Author Archives: Peggy Jaeger

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About Peggy Jaeger

I've been many things in my life,but the most consistent is WRITER.

#TBT

All year long I’m taking a look back on some of the blogs I wrote when I first started this writing project. It’s fun to see how far I’ve come in my writing and in my philosophizing, lol! This one is from September 2017

I’ve mentioned before that I’m blessed and lucky to be retired so I can write whenever I want, for how ever long at a stretch I want. This usually adds up to 5-9 hours daily, depending on everything else in life that needs to be taken care of: laundry, grocery shopping, exercise.

But….there was a time not too long ago when that wasn’t the case. I worked outside my home at a job I detested, so writing was relegated to the back burner. During that time I’d sneak a few minutes before getting ready for the day to jot down a few lines of dialogue. Or I’d bring my laptop to work with me and take a solitary lunch so I could finish a scene. My menopause insomnia ( don’t laugh. It’s a real thing!) was good for one thing and one thing only: I used my inability to sleep to write in the middle of the night when everyone else was dreaming. My first book, SKATER’S WALTZ, was completely written between the hours of 1 and 3 am.

My husband worked, my daughter was out of the house, so it should have been easy to eek time out of the day to write. But it wasn’t because, you know….life.

Balance is a hard job for some people and for me it’s one of the most difficult concepts to accomplish. I never felt like I was giving my all to anyone or anything when I was working and writing. I am in awe of writers who have small children, volunteer at their school, plus work and have husbands/wives they need to care, in addition to homes that need to be tended. And by tended, I mean cleaned! Those writers truly have superpowers that I do not possess. They can write a book, bake cookies for the school fundraiser, prepare nutritious meals for dinner, and everyone has clothes to wear, even on laundry day.

These writers have found their inner balance between writing and life.

I never did. It was only when I retired from that despised job that I was able to finally devote the time necessary to each part of my day and not feel as if I was cheating some aspect of it along the way.

So the title of this piece is Managing my writing time. I’m doing pretty well now that I don’t have any place to be during the daylight hours – and by that I mean I don’t have to go to a job location. All my friends still work, so there is no one I can get into Thelma and Louise trouble with during the day and the last time I went out to lunch on a weekday was way back in the beginning of the summer. I have no life, really, and I think I’m doing just fine!

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#WednesdayWIsdom 3.27.24

THink about this for a moment.

You have a roof over your head, food on your table, the bills are paid, you have luxuries like a cellphone, vacations, a laptop. You drive a car you own. You can buy clothes whenever you want; go out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Go to the movies.

Do you ever think you’re blessed because you have all that? Or do you just accept it? Take it for granted because it’s always been that way?

Here are some statistics that might surprise you – or may not.

9.2% of the global population live in extreme poverty with half the world’s poor children under the age of 18.

In this country, 37 million Americans with 1 in 6 being children, live below the poverty line, don’t have enough to eat, don’t have adequate access to health care, clean water, even a roof over their heads.

Now, tell me: are you still taking the things you do have for granted?

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#teaserTuesday #Tuesdaytease

Today’s little sumthin’ sumthin’ comes from RETRIBUTION, which is releasing on 4.23.24 YOu can order is on Amazon or from me, directly at the above link. You’ll get your print copy autographed that way, hee hee.

After Kella is outed by the Assistant FBI Director to the press, the team worries she’s now compromised and will leave. This scene is the aftermath of that.

Kella was disconnecting a cell phone call when they came into the room.

Frowning, she looked up at Tucker from her chair.

“Don’t tell me, I already know,” he said, putting up a restraining hand. “Sean’s furious and wants me dead. You can tell him I feel pretty much the same way.”

Kella leaned forward, grabbed his hand, and said, “Yes, he’s furious, but no, he didn’t say anything about killing you.”

“That’s because he’s smart and doesn’t want you tagged as an accessory.”

Good humor restored, she grinned and squeezed Tucker’s hand. Hard. “You’re an idiot, but I love you anyway. The one saving grace, in Sean’s opinion, is that the Assistant Director didn’t give the media my name.”

“That’s a very small comfort, Kel, because those people are human bloodhounds. Especially people like Donovan Rule who make their living off people’s secrets. My guess is that by the end of today, one of the major networks will find out who you are and broadcast it all over the airwaves, official confirmation or not.”

“He’s right, you know,” Anna said, pouring two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Tucker and kept the other for herself.

Kella watched as he absentmindedly took a sip of the brew, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“I figured you needed that,” Anna said. “That press conference was anything but pleasant.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Tucker told her. Kella knew that he never noticed the hint of a pleased blush that spread across the younger woman’s cheeks. “Well, so much for keeping you out of the limelight.”

“It couldn’t be helped, Tuck. Myrna Rowlands is big news,” Kella said.

He nodded, sipping his coffee. “I’m sorry. I did my best.”

She squeezed his hand again and said, “I know.”

“Does your husband want you to come home?” Anna asked, sitting down across from her.

“If you can believe it, no.”

“I’m safe for another few days, then?” Tucker asked, his face and expression deadpan as always.

“Actually, no,” she told him. “He’s flying up as soon as he makes sure everything’s okay at home and at the restaurant.”

Tucker took a moment to register her words. “Is he going to stay?”

“That’s the plan. He says he knows I want to see this through to the end but he says there’s no way I’m staying here without him. He thinks the same way you do, that the media hounds will find out who I am. He wants to be there if they do and keep me protected.”

Anna couldn’t help herself. She sighed, loudly, and dropped her chin into her fist on the table. “He really loves you.”

Tucker turned to her.

Kella’s smile was wide and open. “Yeah, he does. So it looks like you’re going to have to find us a hotel. Both of us can’t stay with Anna. And the FBI’s paying,” she added, a stern warning look in her eyes. “That is if you think you still need me. I’d like nothing better than to go home and let you and the Posse finish this up.”

“No. You’re staying,” Tucker said. “Not another word.”

Intrigued? I hope so.

Amazon LInk RETRIBUTION

Direct Sale from me WEBSITE SALE

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#mondaymusings #musings on a Monday 3.25.24

This is a question I get asked a great deal…

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#fridayfive 3.22.24

Today, I want to tell you about 5 books that impacted my life. A few of them I read years and years ago, a few, recently. But all of them left a mark on me and made my life, and my insights into life, a little bit better.

UNDER THE BANNER OF HEAVEN by Jan Krakour. I knew nothing about the Mormon faith until I read this book. It is an encyclopedia of info and deals with a modern-day murder involving the belief system. Very powerful.

MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL by John Berendt. The most fascinating look into a society murder. The book was much better than the movie, but the movie wasn’t bad.

SHANNA by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. The very first grown-up ( read SEX ON THE PAGE) romance I ever read when I was 16.

THE 7 HUSBANDS OF EVELYN HUGO by Taylor Jenkins Reid. This book truly impacted me and gave me a great deal of insight into the issues with being gay in this country. I adored this story, the characters, and the phenomenal ending.

7 HABITS OF HIGHLY EFFECTIVE PEOPLE by Stephen R. Covey. Insights into how the mind works and what makes habits turn into success, this book is a must-read for anyone who wants to get ahead int he word be it financially, socially, or academically.

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RETRIBUTION

So I’m doing something different for my next release. I’m going to be selling print copies of RETRIBUTION directly from my website. The link is on the menu on the home page, but I’ll provide it here, too. The cost is $15.00 per book and that includes shipping and handling. Now, this offer is only available to US residents because shipping costs overseas are prohibitive. In that case, if you want the print book Amazon is the best place to get it.

One advantage of getting it from me is that it’s autographed!

Here’s the direct link to getting the book: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfjUQmo2awwfvrFZtf-2Ix7U-Gt6vFFLm4KDVOtBx0xvO2cbQ/viewform?usp=sharing

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#tbt 3.21.24

So this year, on Thursdays, I’m taking a look at some of my older blogs to see if they have any relevance today. Here’s one about reviews.

Published July 3, 2020.

title: WORDS HURT and REVIEWS can be Crushing…

I really have had some weird – but exact – blog titles lately, haven’t I? Hee Hee

I’ve talked about book reviews here many times – the good, the bad, the mean. Today I’m going to add confusing to that short list.

WOKE released the other day to good (mostly – 95%)  to excellent reviews. I’ve come to realize that the people whom I know personally are always kind even if they don’t like one book more than another, they always say kind words in their reviews. But I know a book is good if reviewers I don’t know from Adam ( or Eve) say something wonderful.

For an example, this review was put up on Bookbub and Amazon by a reader I don’t know:

Drugged at her 21st birthday party, Aurora nearly died, then spent 10 years in a coma. She moves forward after waking, thanks to her devoted mother and their housekeeper, to the point of training to run the NYC marathon, and meeting and dating someone she met at a fundraiser. AJ, as she’s now known, wants to know what happened, and goes in search of someone who can help her. I’ve read two other books from this author, both very nice romances. But holy crapoly – I had no idea that Ms. Jaeger could write such a captivating and suspenseful romance. This story roped me in at the beginning, and never let up. The romance is wonderful. Cade and AJ are just perfect together, until he omits something that she might think to be important. Her mother is a bit overprotective at times, but considering all that AJ went through, fairly understandable, and Mom is supportive. Maeve, their housekeeper, has worked for the family since she came to the US, and she’s so much more than just “the help” – she gave up her chance at forever to take care of AJ when she was comatose. Nick, the detective who worked her case, is a really great guy, and I love AJ’s matchmaking attempt. Best quote in the book: “Forgiveness is a gift, according to Maeve, that should be doled out often, and without incurring interest.” She gave it 5 stars

Great review, right? I think so and it made me feel I’d done my job as a writer well.

Then there are the confusing ones. The reviews that makes no sense to me, like this one, for example:

The plot had its engaging moments, the characters were interesting and their secrets were gradually relieved throughout the story.
It had mystery and twists, single pov, nicely paced.
Regarding the solution of how and why was Aurora poisoned, it was neither brilliant nor mind-blowing. It was far-fetched and spoiled whatever my mood was.
Is there a part two??? Where was the epilogue???? Where was the hea???? There was a hea, but for a secondary character!!! I was left dumbfounded, looking for an epilogue that never appeared and I could not believe how abrupt the story ended!!! 😲She gave it 2.5 stars.

I didn’t promote this book as a romance because, to me, it really wasn’t one. It was more a woman coming to grips with the hand of cards she was dealt in life and trying to learn how to grow from it. The book ended when it was appropriate to end. It didn’t need an epilogue and why does this reader think it does??? See? Confusing.

There certainly are days when I wonder why I ever wanted to be a professional, published writer, that’s for sure…

Oh well. Today I start writing Book 2 in my Pride of Brothers series. Different genre, different voices. I’d better just concentrate on that and forget about the confusing world of reviews for the moment.

Happy 4th, American peeps. Until next time ~ Peg

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#wednesdaywisdom 3.20.24

Truth.

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#Tuesdaytease #Teasertuesday 3.19.24

So, I’ve got a release date of May 21, 2024 for book 2 in the HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER series, LOVE MATCH( LAYLA & CODY).

Here’s a little scene between Layla and Cody’s Mom, Sally, a woman very unlike Layla’s cold and critical mom.

All the nerves she’d been able to quiet manifested again. She stood, knowing her legs should move her to the front door, but couldn’t.

The bell chimed again. With it, she heard Cody barreling down from the attic.

“I’ll get it,” he said, glancing into the room on his way to the door.

Finally remembering how to walk, Layla shot behind the pocket doors, intent on closeting herself in the room. Cowardly? Yes, she wasn’t going to deny it. But then a female voice echoed in the front hall.

“I was in soup-making mode this morning and made a batch of vegetable and tomato, so I figured I’d bring some for lunch for you both. As usual, I made a vat. Way more than just Daddy and I can get through,” the voice said, laughter ringing in the tone.

“You got grilled cheese sandwiches to go along with the soup?”

A beat passed. Then, “Cody Angus Fonda, when have you ever known me not to make sandwiches to go along with soup?”

Layla could hear the smile in his answer. “Never. Thank God.”

Despite wanting to hide, Layla peeked around the half-opened door. She’d imagined the woman would be her age, maybe even younger from the youthful vitality lilting through the voice. But it belonged to a woman in her mother’s generation.

Cody glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring at them.

“Not the delivery guys,” he said. “It’s my mom and she’s brought us lunch. Come meet her. I promise,” he slanted his mother a playful grin, “she won’t bite.”

She shoved a bag at him, then swatted him across the forearm.

“Is that any way to introduce me?” she said, shaking her head.

The smile gracing her face belied the annoyance in her question.

Before Layla could come forward, Cody’s mother crossed the expanse of the foyer to her, a hand extended in greeting. “I’m Sally, Layla. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Layla found her hand cocooned within both of Sally’s and pumped with vigor. “My mother is up at the Arms and is besties with your gran. Effie talks about you all the time and from pictures I’ve seen of her when she was a girl, you’re her spitting image. Both of you, beauties.”

Despite her nerves, Layla smiled.

“That’s sweet of you to say.”

“I went to school with your mom, too. How’s she doing?”

Layla had to bite back the comment she really wanted to make, instead, going for the polite, “She’s well, thank you.”

“Good. Good. Well, I made some soup and sandwiches and brought some along. Cody loves my soups, especially on a cold day like today. Are you hungry?” She wound her arm through Layla’s and began walking with her toward the kitchen. “I don’t even ask Cody that anymore because the man is a walking hunger pang.” She rolled her eyes at her son. “Come on. Let’s go find some bowls and utensils. So, my son tells me you and he are fixing up the house a bit. Good, I’m glad. This house is gorgeous. Effie always left it spotless, too. I remember coming here as a girl with my parents when your grandparents had their annual Christmas party. Everything was so festive and beautiful. Do you have any plans to decorate or entertain like she did?”

Layla let herself be guided toward the kitchen, Cody following behind them, the bag in his hand.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” she admitted. “I want to get a few of the projects completed first.”

Sally led her to a chair, told her to sit, and then started rummaging through the cabinets for bowls. “That’s smart. You don’t want drop clothes and scaffolding, and other things about if you invite people into your home.”

Once she located the bowls she turned to her son and said, “Don’t just stand there, boy. Bring me the food.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He placed the bag on the island turned and winked at Layla.

It was all she could do to stay upright on the chair.

Sally’s not really pushy, just very involved in everyone’s business, LOL

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One Year…

How is that possible? I asked myself this when I woke up this morning. It was just yesterday she died.

It’s said your life can change in the blink of an eye, a single heartbeat, the flap of a butterfly’s wings, once.

All true.

What’s never discussed is how that change impacts your life.

A year ago I lost the person I was more closely connected to than any other.

The very first heartbeat I heard was my mother’s.

The very first voice I heard and recognized was my mother’s.

The very first smell I recognized was my mother’s natural scent.

I grew inside her. She was, truthfully, my everything for the nine months I gestated. Her body fed me, and nourished me. Her heart beat for me. Her lungs breathed for me.

Without her, I simply wouldn’t be.

And there’s something I’ve never thought about or considered until today.

She truly was everything to me; my very existence.

She was there for me every day thereafter, guiding me, caring for me, feeding me, and keeping me safe. Until I didn’t need her help any longer. Until I was able to do all that for myself.

Or until I thought I was so grown up I could do it for myself without any help.

How is it possible it’s been a year?

But then, I remember everything that’s happened this past year, all the grief, all the horrible moments of indecision and mental clouding; the pain – physical and emotional; the way I had to grow up in an instant at the age of 62 and do things I never thought I’d need to do as someone’s child.

Or wanted to.

I look back on this year – God, is it only a year? – and think of everything my mother missed. The birth of her great-granddaughter; her 56th wedding anniversary; the way her husband bounced back from his 2 surgeries.

I look back on this year and think, I can’t believe in the span of three weeks I buried my mother, faced a second surgery in as many weeks with my stepfather, sold their house, assumed guardianship financially and emotionally of my stepfather, settled my mother’s estate, as small as it was, got rid of all their possessions – except for the ones that meant something to me – made all the financial decisions for both of them, which I will continue doing until my stepfather joins my mother, and managed to still write 6 books and not lose myself completely in paralytic grief.

I look back on this past year with surprise and real regret when I think about how much I didn’t know about my mother and my stepfather’s lives, both before they were married and after. About how much I missed because she kept things so close to her vest and never thought saying them aloud was the right thing to do. About the secrets that unfolded, slowly, but assuredly, after she died. About how much she suffered, mentally and emotionally, throughout her life.

Real regret. I think sometimes it edges out the grief.

But then…grief returns.

A year, in the big scheme of things, isn’t that long. Considering the average person can now live beyond 90, one-ninetieth of that seems so small an amount of time.

But then, consider all that’s happened in this year and maybe, not so small after all.

I was asked how I feel today, one year since my mother died. How am I doing? How am I handling the anniversary?

I’ll tell you how I feel, how I’m doing…I’m…surviving. That is, after all, all I can do. One foot in front of the other; one day at a time. All the ridiculous cliches that mean nothing and everything.

I’m surviving.

Every day I’m a little stronger; a little more able to get through the day without blackness circling my heart.

Every day I move through the pain a bit better; faster. It doesn’t incapacitate me any longer. It doesn’t paralyze me, or make me numb. Some days, the pain is actually just a memory, not a living, breathing entity.

And every day I get back to being just a little bit more…me.

One year…

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