My first post for 2021 over on Romancing the Genres is about looking back then, looking forward – with wisdom from Maya Angelou mixed in.
Come, have a look: ROMANCINGTHEGENRES
Until next time, peeps ~ Peg
Keeping with our theme of revisiting all my books in series in order, today I give you FIRST IMPRESSIONS (book 3 in the MacQuire Women series).
This was the very first book I wrote where I had the hero fully formed and developed before I ever had a plot or a heroine. I just knew I needed to tell Pat Cleary’s story because he’s such a misunderstood guy. People think he’s a player, but he’s really just searching for THE ONE. He wants a marriage as wonderful and long lasting as his parents, so he’s picky and realizes he needs to kiss a lot of frogs first!! hee hee.
Family Practice Doctor Clarissa Rogers’ first impression of Padric Cleary is biased and based on gossip. The handsome, charming veterinarian is considered a serial dater and commitment-phobic by his family and most of the town. Relationship shy, Clarissa refuses to lose her heart to a man who can’t pledge himself to her forever.
Pat Cleary, despite his reputation, is actually looking for “The One.” When he does give his heart away, he wants it to be for life. With his parent’s marriage as his guidebook, he wants a woman who will be his equal and soul mate in every way.
Can Pat convince everyone – including Clarissa – she’s the only woman for him?
“I told you I thought I should apologize but I didn’t want to, and it was the truth. I enjoyed it. I’d hoped you did, too.”
When she didn’t answer but continued to stare at him, an expression he couldn’t name on her face, he shook his head and, said, “My ego really takes a beating around you.”
She smiled then and squeezed his hands. “I think your ego is pretty intact, Pat.”
“I really like when you do that,” he said, a heartbeat later.
“What? Talk about your bruised ago?”
He shook his head, charmed by her teasing. “When you laugh. And smile. I really like when you smile. Especially at me.”
Her blush deepened. “Pat…”
Without thought, like he had in his office earlier in the afternoon, he dipped his head down. With her hands still in his, he gently tugged her closer, and watched her eyes widen as he moved in.
He gave her a second to resist, to pull back. He thought she might.
But she didn’t, so he did what he’d been dying to do all day. Hell, since they’d met.
With her caramel-colored gaze boring into his, Pat kissed her.
A brief touch, barely a whisper of contact is all it was, but Pat’s insides imploded when her mouth settled against his. His hands still held hers and when he pulled back to stare at her face, two things happened simultaneously and almost made him lose his mind.
First, Clarissa trailed her tongue over the area he’d kissed, moisture wetting her plump lips. A shot of pure want bulleted through him when her lips glistened in the dim lighting of the doorway. At the same time he felt a tug on his hands and in the next second, Clarissa’s arms were wrapped around his neck, her hot, sweet mouth plastered to his.
He couldn’t think. Wouldn’t have been able to answer a question if asked. All he could do was feel. Stretched up against the length of him, up on her toes, Clarissa molded her body to his while her mouth pressed against his. His hands went around her waist, up her back to push her in even closer, their bodies separated from one another only by the width of their clothes.
Pat’s hands pushed against the butt he’d been fantasizing about minutes before, clutching it. It fit his palms as if it’d been forged for his hold.
He lost the ability to breath when Clarissa traced the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip. In less than a heartbeat, he sucked it into his mouth, twirling it around his own, exploring every part of her mouth. She tasted like sin laced with sugar. A tiny whimper cried up from the back of her throat, and she tightened her grip around his neck.
With a quick tug, Pat yanked her up his body and settled her butt in his spread palms. She wound her legs around his hips to cross high on his waist around his back. The hottest part of her, damp and blazing, now nestled against the hardest part of him, straining against the zipper of his pants. Using her front door as a plank, he turned and braced her against it. Torturously, he ground his hips against the soft fabric of her jeans, causing another whimper to morph into a full-fledged, erotic moan from deep within her.
She fisted his hair, tugging, twirling it around her fingers, massaging his scalp, as his tongue moved from her mouth to slide across her cheek, skim her jaw, taste the back of her ear. He licked his lips, then trailed his wet mouth back and forth against the hollow of her shoulder.
She tasted like sunshine and smelled like a warm summer night.
“God, Clarissa, you feel so good.” He nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear and gently nipped her lobe between his teeth.
He tugged on it, and his heart skipped a beat when she cried his name. With purpose, one of his hands trailed down her side to trace the outline of a breast. He swallowed her gasp as his fingers splayed over her hardened nipple and delicately pinched it through her shirt. Her butt jumped against his hands, and he felt her vibrate—actually vibrate—against him.
“I love when you say my name.” His lips found hers again, and like the first time, his stomach did a frantic little jig.
He felt her back shake and her hands push against his shoulders, trying to separate them. When she succeeded, his mind went blank as a tiny little suction sound, sexy and unbelievably hot, shot from them when they parted. Her eyes were huge and wet, the brown so deep they looked like chocolate tempering, and he melted right into them. The most intimate part of her was pressed against him, shaking with what he thought was need.
She smiled, almost laughing. He didn’t think his ego could take another blow, when a muffled sound hit his ears.
“What’s pinging?” he asked.
“My beeper. It’s going off.”
They both looked down at the same time. Her pager was pressed against his substantial erection. The vibration shook straight to his toes, and his penis pulsed against it. He knew she could see what was happening to him, when, suddenly, he realized he had her pinioned against the door.
With an oath, he gently lowered her, and when she had a solid footing, released his grip.
She pulled her pager from her waistband, repositioned her glasses, which had gone askew from her shirtfront, and went to get her phone.
While she answered the page, Pat none-too-gently banged his forehead against the door she’d been plastered against.
What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, he had her bracketed against a door—a door—like some out- of-control, hormone-driven teenager.
And it hadn’t taken anything other than a small, innocent kiss to drive him crazy. He blew out a deep breath and tried to summon up some calm.
With his eyes closed, he pushed off the door and turned around. When he opened them, he wasn’t surprised to see a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“I have to go see a patient in the E.R.”
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and nodded. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to voice what he thought he should.
Intrigued? you can get your copy across all digital media and in print, here: FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Happy reading, peeps ~Peg
This book is so dear to me because it was my very first, true Friends to lovers romance novel.
Symphony pianist Moira Cleary comes home after four years of touring, exhausted, sick, and spiritually broken. Emotional and psychological abuse at the hands of someone she trusted has left her gaunt, anxious, and at a crossroads both professionally and personally.
Moira’s best friend, veterinarian Quentin Stapleton, wants nothing more than to help Moira get well. Can his natural healing skills make it possible for her to open her heart again? And can he convince her she’s meant to stay home now with the family that loves her – and with him – forever?
and here’s a little snippet from the book…
She started to open the front door but stopped when Quentin abruptly turned back and started up the porch steps again.
“I forgot something,” he told her.
When he came up the last step and crossed to her, he said, “this,” and without another word pulled her into his arms.
Her first and last coherent thought was her best friend was going to kiss her goodnight. After a heartbeat, she forgot the best friend part and knew down to her toes friendship had nothing to do with this.
His lips slid across her mouth, soft and gentle, testing, tasting. Moira’s mind went blank as she succumbed to the sensation of them, hot and hard, pressing against hers in a kiss like none he’d ever given her before. Slowly, he traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, silently asking her to open for him. When she did, he entered her mouth and began to explore, each movement becoming more demanding, more insistent. Moira fell against him, fisting his jacket lapels to steady herself. When she felt his heartbeat pounding under her hands, she grew lightheaded with need. Quentin framed her face with his fingertips, softly tugging down on her chin, changing the angle of the kiss.
She’d been kissed before, but never, never with such all consuming need and longing. She heard a deep moan and was shocked to realize the sound had escaped from her. One of Quentin’s hands left her face to slide down her back. When he pushed against her backside and molded her body to his, Moira’s stomach jumped. This time, though, it wasn’t with the painful contractions she’d come to expect, but with a heart- stopping craving.
A craving for him.
She unfurled her hands from his jacket and, without thought, wound them upwards, weaving them over his shirt collar and up through his hair. She grabbed onto the ends, pulled his head down closer, and held on fast.
All aspect of time was lost. Nothing mattered but the delicious feel of his strong hands caressing her back and the taste of him as his tongue mated with hers.
This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream.
But no dream had ever made her want like this, feel like this. When he skimmed his lips across her jaw and down her throat, stopping to take her lobe into his mouth, Moira knew this wasn’t a dream. That same feeling she’d had when she looked at him in the movie steeped through her again, tickling her stomach muscles. With a jolt, she realized the sensation was desire. Pure and simple.
Quentin pulled back and stared down into her face. With a heavy sigh, he laid his forehead against hers, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. So damn long.”
He traced one finger lazily down her jaw and across the lips he’d just caressed, silencing her. “Remember when your cousin Tiffany got married in the backyard here?”
Confused, Moira nodded. She licked her lips, running her tongue across his caressing finger. The hiss that blew from him made her thighs shake.
Quentin rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “When the Reverend told Cole ‘you may now kiss your bride,’ and he swooped her off the ground, spun her around, and kissed her silly? Remember what you said?”
Moira tried to conjure the scene. “I think I said it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.”
He nodded. “The exact quote was ‘I hope someone kisses me like that some day.’”
Her grin was quick at the memory. “Pat snorted and said I’d better be satisfied with licks from the horses and Rob Roy because no guy was ever going to kiss me like that.”
“He wasn’t known for tact back then,” he said, rubbing a hand down her back as he held her next to him in the soft lamplight from the porch. The soothing, rhythmic smoothing of his hand made every nerve on Moira’s body stand at attention.
“Later on that day, behind the barn, remember what happened then?”
Because she did, she couldn’t stop the heat from spreading up her face like wildfire. When she merely nodded, he traced a kiss across the area he’d just caressed, and said, “You wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed like that and since I was your best friend, you thought I should be the one to do it, because you—quote—felt safe with me—unquote.”
“What was I? Eleven?” she said, finally finding her voice, and unnerved to hear it whining.
“Thirteen. We both were, and I was more than willing to do it. Almost broke my heart in two when you said afterward, ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about.’”
His lips twitched at the corners when he said it, and Moira felt the warmth of her blush intensify.
“Hush.” He kissed her forehead. “Ever since that day, all I’ve wanted is a second chance. Now,” he pulled her body closer, wrapped both arms around her small waist, his hand resting just above the dent in her spine. “We’re both a little older, a little more mature. Some of us are much more experienced—”
“Experienced,” he said, the laugh in his voice quiet and seductive, “and things can be so much better.”
And if you read the book, you know they were, hee hee!
Intrigued to read more? Here ya go, let me make it easy: There’s No Place Like Home
Today, one of my favorite WILD ROSE PRESS author/sistahs is sharing some exciting news!!! CHRYS FEY is a prolific writer and she’s got another addition to her Disaster Crimes series for the book reading world!!! Get a gander, here….
Who is Thorn?
He is Beth’s best friend.
He is like a brother to Donovan.
He is the god father to their children.
He is a detective at the Orlando Police Department.
He is in love with Amanda, a survivor of domestic/sexual abuse.
He is a good man who believes women should be treated right. Always.
He fights for the defenseless, the innocent, the victims, the hurt.
He goes after the bad people who hurt those he cares about.
He is laidback and loves to laugh and tease.
He will always have your back.
He is strong but gentle.
He enjoys Thai food.
*A FIGHTING CHANCE is Book 6 in the Disaster Crimes series, but it’s a spin-off featuring a new couple, so it can be read as a standalone.*
Thorn has loved Amanda from afar, giving her whatever she needs as a survivor of abuse—space, protection, and stability. He yearns to give her more, though, to share his feelings, kiss her, love her, but he’s worried the truth will frighten her away.
And Amanda is afraid. She’s scared of her attraction for Thorn. Most of all, she’s terrified of her ex-boyfriend, who is lurking nearby where no one can find him. When she grows closer to Thorn, Damon retaliates, jeopardizing their happy ending.
Up against an abusive ex and Mother Nature, do Thorn and Amanda have a fighting chance?
Amanda looked up from the current list of up-to-date payments for classes. A movement outside the glass storefront caught her eye. She tilted her head to see a man coming up the sidewalk from the side where the picnic bench sat. Through the vertical blinds, she glimpsed a square face—a short, rugged beard and long, dark hair pulled into a man bun. Her breath fled from her lungs. Her body went from icy cold to flaming hot in the span of a millisecond. She dropped to the floor and slid under the counter, beneath the ledge where they put their purses and cell phones.
“What—” Beth peeked at the windows. Then she snapped her fingers at April and pointed at the stools.
April jumped into action. She pushed the stools in so they blocked Amanda. The bell attached to the door jingled as April removed the jacket she wore and draped it across the stools, creating a curtain to shield Amanda.
From a crack, Amanda watched Beth move to stand in front of the twins, who were in their walkers playing peacefully. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to be closing.”
“I don’t give a shit. I’m here for Amanda.”
The sound of Damon’s voice had her heart beating even harder. That voice had haunted her nightmares, had come back to life in her memories.
Beth cocked her head to the side. “Who? There’s no one by that name here.”
“Don’t bullshit me. I know she works here.”
***FREE FOR A LIMITED TIME***
THE DISASTER CURSE
Author’s Note: I wrote The Disaster Curse to answer a few lingering questions readers may have after reading A Fighting Chance, and to tie the whole series together with a neat, shiny, perfect little bow. Plus, there was one disaster that I hadn’t written about yet. *wink*
The Disaster Crimes Series:
*The Crime Before the Storm (prequel)
Hurricane Crimes (novella, #1)
Seismic Crimes (#2)
Lightning Crimes (free short, #2.5)
Tsunami Crimes (#3)
Flaming Crimes (#4)
Frozen Crimes (#5)
A Fighting Chance (spin-off, #6)
The Disaster Curse (short story, #7)
*Free exclusive story to newsletter subscribers.
***LAUNCHING A WEBSITE***
TheFightingChance.org is a website dedicated to domestic violence and sexual assault awareness. Inspired by the Disaster Crimes series.
Prizes: Hurricane Crimes (Disaster Crimes 1) and Seismic Crimes (Disaster Crimes 2) eBooks (mobi or epub), Hurricane Crimes Playing Cards, Girl Boss Sign, and a Volcanic Blast Scented Candle
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Chrys Fey is author of the Disaster Crimes Series, a unique concept that blends disasters, crimes, and romance. She runs the Insecure Writer’s Support Group Book Club on Goodreads and edits for Dancing Lemur Press. https://www.chrysfey.com
This has been some week, hasn’t it? Since last Tuesday our little corner of the world went through something I sincerely hope it never does again.
So, let’s focus on the positive….what was one GOOD thing that happened since last we met ( 1.5.2021)
For me, I exercised every single day this week – which I haven’t done since the Pandemic hit!!!
Now you…what happened that made you smile or filled you with joy this week? Comment, below!