Author Archives: Peggy Jaeger

And I’m a little nervous about it.

So.

I’ve been a full-time published writer for 11 years. 75 books, a few anthologies, a few novellas.

I’ve had 4 publishers that I actively sought out because I had no literary agent.

Let me repeat that: I’ve had 4 publishers, over 75 published works, and no agent.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to get an agent. I have tried. Or, rather, I had tried.

After too many form rejections, one person should shudder through, I was able to pitch to an agent at the RWA 2017 conference. You had to send 3 chapters of your WIP prior to the meeting so she would know the work you were pitching.

My appointed time came, and we met, shook hands, and then I introduced myself and reminded her which was my work because she was seeing people every 15 minutes for 2 hours. The very first thing out of her mouth was, “Oh, yes. I didn’t like your voice.”

I’m sorry…what?

She didn’t like my writing voice, so the appropriate assumption was that she didn’t like the work I’d sent either; that assumption was proven correct when her next sentence was, “I didn’t like the pages you sent.”

Okay. So…what now? I’ve got a 15-minute pitch session with this woman who absolutely shut me down before I ever said a word. Do I stay and talk about the weather? Politics? How ’bout those Yankees?

Yeah…not happening. Can you spell awkward?

What would you have done?

I’ll tell you what I did. Blinked a few times and took a few breaths so I wouldn’t go postal on her, then stood back up, plastered a fake as a three-dollar bill on my face, put out my hand and said, “Have a nice day.”

And then I turned and left. She never stopped me. Never said, wait, tell me about something else you’ve got. What else are you working on?

Nothing/Nada/zilch/zip.

Nice, right? ( insert sarcasm)

Ever since then, I haven’t pursued getting a literary agent. Why would I? I mean, a masochist I am not.

But…

About a year ago, I started writing a book that I truly feel is my best writing to date. Layered characters, a great backstory, a present-day situation anyone can relate to. And I thought, do I really want to self-publish this one? Wouldn’t it be nicer if I could get it trad pubbed?

Yeah, I answered. It would.

So…last week I reactivated my Query Tracker account and started searching for agents.

I know…am I crazy? Like I said…masochistic? Or just plain stupid to even try?

The one saving grace for me in using this tool (QT) is that I don’t have to sit through a face-to-face rejection. It will come in the form of an email. So much easier to stomach. At least for me. I don’t have to pretend my heart isn’t breaking or put on a good show face when I’m told, in person, “I didn’t like your story.” A faceless, speechless encounter is about all I can stomach at this point in my life.

You would think after all the writing awards I’ve won ( and you know they’re a lot! -No brag, just truth.) and the number of books I’ve had indie and trad published, someone, SOMEONE, and by someone I mean a literary agent, would want to take a chance on me and my story.

Most of the agents I queried have a response time of 8-12 weeks, so I’ll be debating with myself until the end of summer if this was a good idea or not. Until then, I’m perfecting the story and if I get nothing but rejections, it’s going live immediately!!

Why is this so hard, kids? Why?

~ Peg

So this is the fourth year I don’t have my Mom on Mother’s Day. This day hits harder than all the other “holidays” for me since her death. It’s the one day (and really, it should be every day!) that we, as a society, collectively celebrate the women who bore us, pushed us out, loved us unconditionally, and helped us grow into the beings we are.

One day.

Honestly, it’s not enough, but like I said, this one hits harder. probably because it’s an individual reminder of the loss for me. I’m pasting the blog I wrote for the first Mother’s Day she was gone – barely 2 months from her death, here. It’s included in the book I wrote about my grief journey, “My Love to you all” A daughter’s journey through grief, and I am amazed that the feelings I was going through that first year are exactly what I’m experiencing today. No real change.

Grief is hard. It lives, breathes, and hits you at the worst and most unexpected times.

I miss my Mom. Tortured though our relationship was, I miss her.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY?

I’m not going to lie. This has been the hardest day of my life to date.

In 62 years I’ve lived through a lot.

A lot.

So that’s saying something about the agony of today.

Chronic pain; numerous surgeries; life-changing accidents; rejection; multiple types of skin cancer with subsequent disfiguring surgeries.

It’s a lot.

But it’s all paled in comparison to the unstoppable ache in my soul today.

This is the first Mother’s Day I’ve ever had without my mother.

The sadness surrounding me is like a cloak made of a heavy black depression that weighs more than anyone should bear.

Even during the times our relationship wasn’t perfect, Mother’s Day was always something I never forgot. Cards, small tokens, even just a phone call, were all she ever wanted, just a reminder from me that she was my mother and I loved her.

My mother wasn’t one of those moms who demanded and expected hearts, flowers, and expensive gifts.

She was a simple woman with simple tastes and desires.

One of her favorite gifts, and the one she commented on every year on Mother’s Day, was a ceramic house I made her in third-grade arts and crafts class in school. I’ve looked at this item over the years and have always wondered, why the hell did she love it so much?

I know the answer now.
At least, I think I do.

We lived in apartments from the time I was born until I was in the sixth grade. That year, my mother and stepfather bought their first home. It was a tiny one-bedroom bungalow in a beach community on Staten Island. Low rent district, because it was in a flood zone, but a real house nonetheless.

And yes, I said one bedroom. They slept in it, I slept in the living room on an old Castro convertible – remember them?

The entire house couldn’t have been more than 750 square feet. It had a small fenced-in backyard that abutted a wooded area. The houses were separated from each other by three feet ( 1.5 feet on either side), which meant you could hear and see everything going on in the next house. Railroad track houses they were called. One room falling into the next.

I don’t know how much the house cost in 1971 but they had a sizable mortgage for the time. That I do remember because money was really tight during those years. Those were the times when we didn’t eat vegetables because we couldn’t afford them, powdered milk was the only kind they could buy because of the cheap price, and we ate boiled potatoes five times a week and plain macaroni as our main meal on the weekends.

My mother loved that house.

Why? I think because it was the first real one she ever lived in. Her entire life until that moment had been spent in apartments. First as a child, then as an adult.

This was the first home that was truly hers and not owned by someone else.

I’m not gonna lie and say everything was honky dory in that house. It wasn’t.

The water pressure was practically nil, which meant taking a shower and actually getting soap and shampoo off you took five times longer than it should have. And the water was never really…hot.

The stove was an old burner flame one and the pilot light went out routinely 3-4 times a week. I learned how to light an oven at an age no child should. And with matches, not an electric lighter.

The walls were paper-thin, which meant no privacy. In the bathroom…in the bedroom.

You get the idea.

There was one thermostat to control the heat and it was in the living room so that meant in order for heat to register in the bedroom the temp had to be turned up high. I never went to bed without sweating.

And forget air conditioning. They couldn’t afford one. Summers were…difficult.

But my mother loved that house, despite all the issues.

And I think that’s why she loved that ceramic house I made her so much.

At the time I made it, we were still living in apartments where roaches were our roommates, junkies looking for a fix roamed outside the front doors, and crime lived in the lobbies.

That little ceramic house was my mother’s hope for the future; her dream where we would live one day. Safe, sound, and far from crime and urban squalor.

The funny thing is, that very first home in the beach looked an awful lot like the ceramic one.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms, moms-to-be, aunties, sisters, and step-moms. If you’ve still got your mom with you, call her, give her a hug, tell her you love her.

Thank her.

I wish I could do every one of those things…

Title: “My love to you all.” A daughter’s journey through grief

Author: Peggy Jaeger

Genre: Grief and loss; memoir

Book Blurb:

“Grief comes in waves, tsunamis, and droplets.”

When her mother died unexpectedly, Peggy Jaeger used her writing blog to help her navigate through her grief. Detailing her mother’s tortured life – and their oftentimes contentious relationship – allowed her to understand the decisions and events that comprised her mother’s 87 years and made her the woman she’d grown to be. With brutal and at times painful honesty, Peggy details her mother’s life; one that knew suffering, heartache, supreme loss, mental illness and paranoia.

This is the story of how two women – mother and daughter – learned the power behind the gift of forgiveness and helped Peggy come out on the other side of her grief a stronger, wiser, and more understanding person.

Excerpt:

My mother died, unexpectedly, last night. And I didn’t make it in time to say goodbye.

Measure of grief? Inconsolable.

Measure of guilt? Incalculable.

She’d just turned 87 last week and joked many times in the past few years that she never expected to “live this long.”

I always quipped back, “I didn’t either.” The first time I said it, she got mad. 2very time after that, she laughed.

My mother was a severely complicated, emotional, mentally broken woman.

She was also the strongest person I’ve ever known.

She survived the sudden death of her father when she was nine years old, leaving a crater in her heart that never healed. She barreled through the suicide of her oldest sister when life became too much for the woman, and the death of her own mother 9 years ago, a woman who admitted she neither loved nor liked her middle daughter. Rust a few months ago, she suffered the loss of her youngest sister.

She lived through a world war and three other wars that saw her lose childhood friends, the tail end of a worldwide financial depression, numerous stock market crashes and recoveries.

She survived a mentally debilitating first marriage to my father, and the censure of the Catholic Church when they excommunicated her for leaving him. This was prior to Vatican II, before things got a bit laxer. Mother Church refused her petition of an annulment, and her second marriage was then “tainted” by her strict family, who saw it as her basically living in sin with my stepfather, even though they were legally married.

My mother was the most devout woman I’ve ever known. She lived her life with her faith even though the practice of it was denied to her.

She never graduated from high school because she had to drop out to help support her ailing mother and her younger sister. She never earned her GED, either. And despite the lack of education, she had extremely important jobs in her lifetime.

She worked on Wall Street as a stock transfer clerk in a time when there weren’t many women in the job. And she made 51 cents to every dollar the men in the same position made.

During the financial crisis of the 80s, she was let go (women were fired first and subsequently changed career paths. She cleaned houses for very wealthy people for a while to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. She babysat for several couples who absolutely adored the way she cared for their children. Then, in her fifties, she became a licensed home health aide. She went into the homes of the people she’d cleaned for, now relegated to sick beds, and cared for them until they died.

During her 87 years, she suffered a miscarriage, two emotional breakdowns that left her anxious and paranoid, two broken hips and the subsequent surgeries to repair them, and broke with her husband’s family when they accused her of a crime. They, like my grandmother’s family, felt she was living in sin with their brother and wanted her out of the family.

She was a gregarious person right until the end and I can’t remember the number of times I asked her to stop speaking so I could tell her something important.

Today I wish I’d never tried to silence her.

It’s a complicated relationship between a mother and daughter, especially when the daughter has lived through the highs and despairs of the parent. My mother was not what anyone would call a book-smart woman, but she was the wisest person in my life, and no matter how many arguments we had or tears we shed over them, she always, always had my back.

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):

Universal buy link: https://books2read.com/u/31ygQ6

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/245380374-my-love-to-you-all

Boobkub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/my-love-to-you-all-a-daughter-s-journey-through-grief-by-peggy-jaeger

What makes your featured book a must-read?

The relationship between a mother and daughter is like no other. From the moment a daughter is born, there exists a dynamic that is experienced with no other child with that mother. While I’m not the first daughter to ever lose her mother, I am the only daughter to ever lose MY mother. This book explores the tortured relationship mothers and daughters have.

Giveaway –

Enter to win a $10 Amazon gift card:

https://kingsumo.com/g/3zj5061/mothers-day-bookish-event-giveaway

Open Internationally.

Runs May 5 – May 10, 2026.

Winner will be drawn on May 11, 2026.

Author Biography:

Peggy Jaeger writes contemporary romances and rom coms about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them.

Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, Peggy brings all aspects of life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness, and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she has created the families she wanted as that lonely child.

As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go “What??!”

Social Media Links:

Website/Blog: https://peggyjaeger.com/

Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00T8E5LN0

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PeggyJaeger.Author/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/peggyjaeger/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13478796.Peggy_Jaeger

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/peggyjaeger_author/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/peggy-jaeger

You-Tube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDR8RRIlssIyS0FYZWeGqsg/videos?view_as=subscriber

tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@peggyjaegerauthor

basically, because I am one!

So if you’ve been anywhere on social media, read a newspaper ( do they still exist?) or watched the news on TV since Saturday, May 2, you’ve seen something about the 152-year running of the KENTUCKY DERBY,

The winner was a long shot named Golden Tempo who, LITERALLY, came out of last place to win the race. If you watched it, were you like me? Screaming at the TV “Go! GO! GO!” and then crying when you found out everything about this horse and his trainer?

It’s 4 days later and I still cry whenever I see footage of the race, the trainer’s reaction, and the interview with the jockey after his winning ride. I’m starting to tear up writing this!

Cherie DeVaux, Golden Tempo’s trainer, is the first female trainer to win a KD. The first. She was brought on to be a trainer by the owner of the horse, who is also a woman, Daisy Phipps. Daisy is related to the first woman who ever owned her own stables and produced a generation of winning horses. This win was very female-centric in a sport…that is not.

The jockey who rode him, Jose Ortiz, is a seasoned veteran of horse races. He knew what was inside GT’s soul; that he had the heart of a champion and the legs to match it, and he let the horse prove himself to the world. That, my friends, is a genius move.

Before the race began, Golden Tempo had odds of something like 56-1 because he’d lost his last 2 races. No one, other than Cherie, Ortiz, and GT’s groom, Jose Hernandez, had any expectations for this horse.

And you know what? I simply love that.

Why?

Because all my life I’ve rooted for underdogs; the one nobody believes in; the one people scoff at and say lacks potential; the one who will never amount to anything; will never win. I am not the person who jumps on the bandwagon and praises, dances, and espouses anything or anyone who is popular, or the flavor of the moment. Routinely, I back dark horses in political races, listen to music by artists BEFORE the world makes them popular, and read books by authors who are not bestsellers and publicly well known outside the reading community.

These are my people. Why, you ask? Because they are the faceless, hardworking, nose-to-the-grindstone individuals who are toiling daily to make their lives and the lives of others better. Only a nameless few support them and root for them, but those nameless ( to the world) few, are the reason they toil so hard; they are their impetus to keep going when they don’t believe in themselves; their motivation to keep on keeping on.

Underdogs are not typically popular. Hence, the name, underdog: “a competitor thought to have little chance of winning a fight or contest; a person who has little status in society.” ~ Webster’s Dictionary

Golden Tempo was not considered a winner on Saturday, May 2, at post time. The odds placed on him prove that. 2 minutes after the startbell dinged, the gate opened, and the horses began pummeling the turf, the world learned he was.

Golden Tempo is, in the very basic sense of the word, an underdog.

I am one, too.

My entire life, people have underestimated me. Because I was fat as a child, relatives and bullies would tell me I didn’t matter and would never get far in life because of my weight. Because of the scars on my face from my accident, my own father told me I would never be rich and famous unless I got them fixed. Because I was always considered the smart, nerdy, fat girl in school, my peers ( and I use the word very loosely) said I’d never find a guy to love me.

Did all that hurt? Damn straight it did.

Did I let it stop me from succeeding in life? Not even a little.

When I decided I wanted a writing career after entering my 50s, people told me it was a pipe dream. I was too old, had nothing to say that anyone wanted to read, and was just setting myself up for failure. When I told my husband the moment I got a publishing contract i was quitting me job, he said, “Okay,” with a face and tone that toldme he thought I’d be working forever.

The moment I got a publishing contract, I reminded him I was quitting, and he said, “Wait…what?”

Being underestimated- and by virtue an underdog – has been my motivation to succeed in life.

And I think I’ve done pretty well so far.

Go watch a replay of the Kentucky Derby 2026 if you need any kind of motivation to keep on keeping on despite what people believe about you. Trust me: you will think about your life very differently.

I feel like 2026 has been a year so far where I’ve posted a great deal about book releases… mine!

Well, here’s another, lol!

“My love to you all,” officially released today over all platforms, Amazon, B&N, Kobo, Apple, etc. I put it in 3 versions: hardback copy, paperback, and ebook so anyone could read it at whatever pricepoint and platform they wanted. The ebook is only 99 cents because I figured most people would read it on their device anyway,

The photo on the cover is my mother’s high school graduation picture – an event she never celebrated because she had to drop out with six months left to go in her senior year. The reasons are detailed in the book, but that decision followed her the rest of her life and, I feel, added greatly to her adult mental health issues.

This book started out by me blogging about my mother’s sudden death and how I was trying to cope with my grief while simultaneously taking care of my stepfather’s issues, selling their home, dealing with insurance and government forms, and establishing myself as my stepfather’s POA and POMD. I was never really allowed anytime to sit with my grief during that first year because there was so much going on. Blogging about my struggle became a way for me to move forward and, with the hope others would read it and offer some advice.

Those blogs turned into a book that details my mother’s life, her decisions, the ones that carried her through her life, and her issues with mental health, self-worth, and paranoia. Discovering who she was, finally gave me the grace to accept what happened and to move through the loss.

My hope with publishing this book is to help anyone else placed in a similar situation by explaining the things I learned during this time; to use it a guideline or yardstick on what should, should not, and will probably happen. I am part of the so-called sandwich generation – a generation that is gaining in numbers. We take care of our aging parents and our children. We are, literally, sandwiched between the two, making decisions we never thought we’d need to; learning things we didn’t know we’d need to know. There is no college course on how to deal with your aging parents, their financial issues, legal issues, mental issues, social ones, too – and there should be. I volunteer as tribute to teach it! I consider myself somewhat of an expert after surviving these past 3 years.

Mother’s Day is next week and it will be the third year I am without my mother.

The loss never goes away, don’t let anyone tell you that. Time just makes it more manageable.

If you read the book and get anything positive out of it, please let me know through either a review or a private messege.

~Peg

I don’t brag. Ever. It’s not in me. I can’t even take a compliment without negating it, verbally.

But stay with me for a moment because 2 monumental things happened yesterday and I am bursting to share them.

Most of you know I am a big contest enter-er. I love me a good writing contest.

Well, I entered a few over the past 8 months. I was a finalist in two already – didn’t win, but was happy just to make it to the finals.

And now…I’m a finalist in 2 more. And not just ANY two contests. Two ultimate, prestigious, amazeballs contests.

The Holt Medallion is a romance writing contest put on by the Virginia Romance Writers. When I say prestigious, I really mean it. Any romance writer would love to win one of the fabulous medallions. My book, YOU’RE MY MATCH is a finalist in the Long Contemproary category along with 4 other authors who are all amazing!!

If that wasn’t enough to drive my ego up into the stratosphere, I also got word that I am a finalist in the most prestigious romance writing award of all for published romance writers, THE DIAMOND HEART from RWA. My book, A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS is a finalist in the contemporary category.

These are two very different romances, and yet…they each speak to an issue I am very vocal about: mental health. You’re My Match deals with mania and hoarding behaviors of the MMC’s mother, while A Chef’s Kiss Christmas deals with grief, loss, and ( a word I hate) closure. The MMC’s wife dies during Covid and he is stuck and unable to move through his grief. It is only as I am writing this post that I realized how much mental health played in both these stories.

Maybe that’s what resonated with the reader/judges?

I may never know, but just to be a finalist in these two amazing award categories is enough to make me stop and take a few deep breaths.

Somedays it really pays to open your emails, kids.

When my mother died suddenly and unexpectedly 3 years ago, I was, to put it simply, emotionally lost. But I couldn’t drown and wallow in my grief like I wanted to because there was so much to do concerning her death and with taking care of my stepfather.

So to help me navigate through the quagmire of all that was coming at me faster than a comet crossing the atmosphere, I started blogging about what I was feeling at that moment in time, that specific day, that hour, on my website blog. Doing this was a way for me to remember what I was going through, how it was affecting me, and how I handled it. There was so much to do after she died: sell the house, dismantle and get rid of their possessions; all the paperwork and government crap that comes with a death.

It was a lot.

A lot.

As her only child, it fell to me to take care of everything because my stepfather was in a rehab center after he broke his hip. So I moved through each day and each new challenge and THING that came up. I had to do.

Let me tell you, there is something to be said for being 63 years old and having to learn a plethora of new things. Hello, Medicaid applications, POA forms, and insurance applications. There were times my brain could only hold so much new info. But I got through it and I think my brain may be stronger for it.

Yes, I got through it and I think the only real reason I did was because I wrote everything that was going on down on my blog, and evaluated my feelings.

Those blog pieces gave me a great deal of insight into the reasons why I was having such a difficult time allowing my grief to settle. And, ultimately, they led me to the other side of the process, allowing me to understand why my mother and I had such a tortured relationship.

I learned a great deal about myself with those posts when I looked back on them: you can teach an older person new things; I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be; I’m a wonderful advocate for others; and one final thing that may be the most improtant: I learned and vowed that I will never leave my daughter in the same positiohn I was in when my mother died. I knew nothing about my mother’s finances, her day to day life, or the extent to which she covered up for my stepfather’s growing dementia. I promised myself then and there that I will make everything known to my daughter before I die and take care of all issues so that she doesn’t have to do anything but grieve once my time has come.

That is the one most important gift I’ve learned from this entire moment in time: Prepare for your death so the ones you leave behind will not have to do anything but grieve your loss.

I’ve taken all those blog pieces and the wisdom I gleaned from that time and put them into a book that details more extensively my grief journey and explores my mother’s life, why she made the decisions she did, and how she came to be the woman she was. It’s out now in all iterations – print and digital. Mother’s Day is next week and I can’t help but think this would be a good present for moms to get them thinking about future plans. No one likes to talk about death, but it’s part of the human experience, so…

…The New England Book Ball

So…

I’m very tired.

But that’s always the case when I get back from a reader/book event. I’m not 22 anymore – and not really sure I had much energy then, either.

But I returned home last night from a great event that I am so happy I decided to join, the NEW ENGLAND BOOK BALL.

I was one of about 45 authors and book vendors who had tables at this two-day event, and it was very reader-centered, which I absolutely adore. Held at the historic Mountain View Grand resort and spa in Whitefield, NH,

The event was loaded with not only authors and vendors promoting and selling their books and wares, but author panels, a Yankee Book Swap, a book bedazzling event, and an amazing Dinner/Ball that took place Saturday night.

I was on two panels – Mental Health in Literature and Behind the scenes, and they had a great turnout from readers.

It was wonderful communing with my author friends, who I don’t get to see enough because — life, and writing! – and I so enjoyed meeting scores of new-to-me readers.

It takes an awful lot of work for the organizer(s) to put on an event of this scope, and my hat goes off to author/coordinator Marilyn Harper and her amazing team of workers, volunteers, and family who put this event together and had it running so smoothly and seamlessly. I joked when leaving the event that I was going to give her 5 stars on YELP! But if I could – I would!

Debut author events are either good, fabulous, or go bust for so many reasons. This one was fabulous because of the organization, thoughtfulness of the coordinators to make things easy for readers and authors, and then the support of the reading community who came out in droves, both days, to buy books, meet their fav authors, find some new ones to enjoy, and to support the most fundamental element of our society – reading and free speech.

Oh, and the part I forgot to mention? The event had a huge raffle to benefit Autism, something near and dear to Marilyn’s heart, and it went very well from what I could see. Just another example of authors and readers giving back where it counts.

Here are just a few of the participating authors and vendors I managed to snag pictures of during the event.

All in all, an outstanding event and I look forward to going again!

Brava, Marilyn Harper, et all. Brava.

MERRY’S GHOST was the first PNR book I ever wrote and it’s the first in the ROMANTIC HAUNTINGS series

“Seated int he deck chair, Chase stared out at the calm ocean, a mug of black coffee grasped between his hands.”

MERRY’S GHOST

When writer and paranormal investigator Chase Seacort comes to spend a few weeks at a friend’s Hampton getaway, all he wants is to be alone, finish his current book about East Coast hauntings, and try to put the horrid events of his past year behind him.

All thoughts about a quiet respite alone vanish when he meets his quirky, gorgeous neighbor. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty captivates him with her perpetual smile and free and easy personality.

Merry June lives a quiet life in her beach house, devoting herself to her two loves – art and photography. Once she discovers Chase’s identity, she can’t wait to introduce him to her great-grandaunt Davinia. But Davinia rarely shows herself to others.

You wouldn’t either if you were a ghost trapped between this world and the next.

Reviews Amazon Goodreads

and I’m so excited!

Today I need to pack, a chore that always gives me angst.

This Friday, I’m heading to the New England Book Ball up at the Mountain View grand resort and spa for two days of books and more books!

Today I have to pack my books, swag, and my clothes, including my ( wait for it…) Ball Gown! This is one event I will make sure to take pictures at! And you all know what a lousy picture taker I am!

I am on two panels for the weekend, Mental Health and one called Behind the Scenes, which is a bird’s-eye view into the author process. In addition, there’s a two day booksigning, and I never ever know how many books to bring or what’s going to sell. I will have my newest, VENDETTA, plus all my romantic suspense books. I am truly hoping this isn’t as heavy a romantasy crowd as previous book signings because I don’t write in that genre and I don’t want this weekend to be a financial bust.

If you’re attending, YAY! My book order form is still live so if you want to ensure you get the book(s) you want, preorder them today and I’ll have them ready for you.

So much fun coming our way!! And I promise: I will take pictures!!