Author Archives: Peggy Jaeger
Photo of the day, day 263
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Photo of the day, day 262
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#sundaySnippet #kindlevella #crimedrama
For this week’s selection, I decided to show you something new – my Kindle Vella work. This little ditty is from THE JANE AUSTEN MURDERS, rated a fan favorite for over 32 weeks! Check it out and if you like it, subscribe to Kindle Vella on your phone. It’s free and the first 3 chapters of any story are always free to read.
Enjoy….
Lizzy followed her partner into a vacant row and took a seat on the aisle.
From her vantage point, Darcy’s voice was quite clear as he spoke at the front of the room from behind a podium. Her vision of the professor was restricted, though, due to the height and distance she and Frank were. She could see his hair was dark, his skin light. He wore a nondescript pullover, a sports jacket over that. Trousers, not jeans, covered his legs. He could be tall, she thought. He certainly wasn’t short, with most of his upper body showing above the pulpit.
“Guy’s got good pipes,” Frank said, “for a teacher. Makes it hard to fall asleep listening to someone like that.”
Lizzy understood what he meant. The voice was steeped in a calm, controlled timbre that commanded authority. Darcy wasn’t American, and Lizzy was surprised at that. English, born and bred, if she wasn’t mistaking the accent. A small flicker sparked in her stomach as she listened to him deliver his lecture, never once referring to any notes or cards.
He spoke of love. Tortured, unrequited love, and how it could kill a young woman’s very being through its harsh, unrewarded, and unknown existence. To never know what it feels like to have another’s love returned to you in the same vein, at the same measure. A love so strong-willed it could overtake and outstrip a heart and mind of its very desire to live.
A love, so pure, so complete, and so wanting, that it caused nothing but heartache for the one who felt it.
Lizzy blinked a few times. Darcy’s lyrical voice conjured up a daydream where she’d actually seen the picture he was describing.
A young woman, innocent and heartbroken, felled by unrequited love.
She spied her own face atop that imagined female form.
“Jesus!”
“What?” Frank whispered, turning to her. “What’s wrong?”
A brisk, full shaking of her head almost cleared the fog. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I spoke out loud.”
“You okay? You look a little pasty.”
“Yeah. I think I just need to eat something. I’ll be fine.”
When his eyes narrowed and he continued to stare at her, Lizzy knew he could see more than she liked. She sat forward and heard the bell ring at the same time.
“Good,” she said, rising, hoping he didn’t hear the relief in her sigh. “Let’s go.” She was two rows in front of him by the time he moved to join her.
The students, all female, were gathering up their things and exiting via the bottom amphitheater door. Lizzy watched several make their way to the front of the room to surround their instructor. She slowed, knowing it would be a few moments before the throng thinned. The further she got down the steps, the clearer Darcy’s face became.
She was correct when she took him for tall rather than short. At least six-one, he was a full head above most of the girls swarming around him. On closer inspection, the dark curly hair was flecked with silver at the temples. Unlike Bingley’s, Darcy’s hair was not in need of a trim. Full, perfectly arched brows sat over eyes whose color she had yet to ascertain. His cheeks were etched into two hollows that ended in a square, brick-hard, jaw.
Lizzy stood on the bottom step, hands in her pockets as she and Frank waited for the professor to be free.
“Guy’s got a fan club,” Frank whispered.
“I see that,” she answered, her gaze staying on Darcy, one delicate eyebrow bending upwards in conjunction with the opposite corner of her mouth.
It was at that moment Darcy looked up and their eyes met over the head of one of his students.
Blue.
His eyes were blue. Solid, deep, and intermingled with shards of silvery gray.
Darcy’s perusal never left her face as the student before him asked a question.
Lizzy realized that neither she nor the professor had blinked once since his gaze found hers. The sting of moisture drying within them, blurry the vision, finally made her lids do their job.
She watched Darcy when her sight cleared and focused again. He shook his head once, blinked a few times, and then turned back towards his student, intent on what was being said to him.
“Crowd’s thinning,” Frank said, moving by her towards the podium. “Let’s go.”
Lizzy found her feet a moment later, after first taking a deep breath and rolling her shoulders.
You can see all my Kindle Vella Stories, here: and a word of warning – these stories are not my typical romance, HEA books. They are all murder mysteries/crime drama/suspense stories.
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Photo of the day, day 261
Filed under year in photos
Photo of the day, day 260
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A new #bookrelease from talented author C.B. Clark FORGING FORGIVENESS #romanticsuspense
You all know – because I say it all the time – but I lovelovelove when my Wild Rose Press sistahs come to visit and bring me their new books. Today is a treat for me and you! C.B. Clark has a new romantic suspense out titled Forging Forgiveness and she is allowing me to share a bit of it with you! Take a gander at this sure-to-be-a-bestseller novel…
When small-town college instructor Candace Cooper discovers bloody, bare footprints in the snow while running in a state park deep in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, it brings back the horrific nightmare of her past.
Detective Aiden Farrell is determined to redeem himself in his new position in Colorado, even if that means ignoring his growing feelings for the beautiful professor he meets during an investigation. His fear that the footprints she saw are connected to a recent spate of missing teens intensifies when Candace is assaulted on campus.
Aiden and Candace join forces, but as they start unraveling the truth, they get closer to each other—and to a killer who’ll stop at nothing to achieve his nefarious goal.
Caught between duty and love, Aiden fights in a race against time to save the woman he loves.
Candace Cooper’s breath fogged out in plumes in the frosty, late afternoon air as she pumped her arms and loped along the narrow trail. Yesterday’s rain had turned to sleet, and overnight, two inches of fresh snow blanketed the path and weighed down the limbs of the tall pine trees.
Hey, what was that?
She slowed to a stop, turned around, and walked back three yards.
What the heck?
Indentations—a heel, the pad of a big toe, and the four, smaller indents of the other toes—were clearly formed in the smooth dusting of snow. The set of small, narrow footprints tracked along the snowy trail, veering into the deeper shadows of the forest. Someone had walked in his or her bare feet down the cold, snow- covered path.
The wind gusted against her damp face, and she shivered. Late November was too cold for anyone in their right mind to be out in the mountainous backcountry of northeast Colorado walking around without proper footgear, let alone barefoot. She squatted for a closer look.
A smear of dark red, stark against the white snow, marked the heel depression of each left footprint.
She touched the red splotch with the tip of her gloved finger. A rust-colored smudge stained the light blue cotton. Her heart rate kicked up.
Blood!
Sinking back on her heels, she peered into the forest’s deepening shadows and shuddered. Only four o’clock in the afternoon, and the sun was already disappearing behind the mountains. Nothing stirred. Even the squirrels were quiet, as if the silent forest watched and waited.
She knew this area of the park, ran the trails in the summer and snowshoed over the flatlands in the winter. Nothing manmade existed out there—no houses, no cottages, nothing but trees and wild animals.
Most visitors to Creighton Springs State Park stayed on the well-groomed gravel walkways and didn’t venture far from the parking lot. She never saw anyone on the hilly trail, not in winter. Yet, as recently as this morning, or early afternoon, someone had gone this way—and in bare feet. They’d left a blood trail. If that person was injured, maybe they needed help.
She slipped off her gloves and traced her finger along the impression. Too small to be an adult male or female’s footprint. Her gut clenched.
A child?
God, no! Please don’t let it be a child. The unspeakable horror of the past reared over her like an attacking beast, and she sagged onto her knees, her heart pounding as if threatening to burst from her chest. A piteous moan escaped her lips. Not again. Dear Lord, please, not again.
Hot tears burned her eyes.
A loud crack reverberated throughout the silent forest.
She bit back a scream and surged to her feet. Gunshot?
An instant later, another sharp boom filled the air.
The piercing sounds of distant rifle fire were unmistakable. But no way would anyone be shooting. It was illegal to hunt in the park. Besides, it was too dark for a hunter to see his target.
Her heart thundered, her breath frozen in her chest. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. Her back tingled with the certainty she was being watched, but she couldn’t move, could only stand there and listen, waiting for the next shot.
The forest remained hushed.
The sun dipped behind the mountains, and the valley filled with dark shadows as night settled in.
A snap of a branch breaking shook her out of her paralysis. The breath she’d been holding whooshed out, and she fumbled in her backpack and drew out her headlamp. Slipping the elastic strap over her forehead, she switched on the light.
Following the thin beam of light cast by her headlamp, she jogged down the trail. Her legs wobbled, and she stumbled over slippery roots and rocks, staggering, almost falling, but she dug deep and kept running.
The parking lot where she’d left her car was an hour’s walk, but if she ran, she could make it in half that time. Heart thumping, her lungs burning, she raced around a bend in the trail but lurched to a stop at a flicker of movement in the trees on her right.
A large shadow separated from the trunk of a fir tree and formed into the shape of a man.
She shone her headlamp into the forest.
The beam of light revealed a tall man with broad shoulders wearing a camouflage-patterned coat and baggy, green cargo pants. A gray woolen toque hung low over his forehead, and a thick black beard covered the lower half of his face. A rifle was strapped over one shoulder.
“He…hello?” Her voice was thin and reedy. He wasn’t a park ranger. Not in that getup, but he had to be the person shooting, considering the enormous rifle slung over his shoulder.
Not one part of his body moved. He didn’t even blink.
Hands shaking, she peeled off her gloves, letting them fall to the ground, and yanked out the can of pepper spray she carried in a canvas holster strapped around her waist. Sliding off the safety guard, she held the can up, the nozzle pointed at the unsettling stranger. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The man remained still and unspeaking.
Her heart thundered in her ears. “Hey, I asked you a question. What do you want?”
Behind the beard, he smiled, his lips stretching wide, his teeth gleaming in the headlamp’s beam. In the encroaching darkness, his muscular frame appeared larger, his demeanor even more threatening.
Fear clawed her throat, and her primal instincts kicked in. Run! The urgent command roared through her, but her knees locked and refused to obey. Her breath puffed in and out in frantic huffs. “Don’t come any closer.” Gripping the can of pepper spray so tight her hand ached, she shifted her finger on the trigger.
Buy Links:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3ASuXim
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3Rc1Vje
Apple/iTunes: https://apple.co/3BeiN3E
Google: https://bit.ly/3PSWbd3
Also available for purchase at Kobo.com and all other major online retailers.
Forging Forgiveness is award-winning author, C.B. Clark’s eighth novel published by The Wild Rose Press. When she’s not busy traveling around the globe or hiking and camping in the wilderness near her home in northern British Columbia, she can be found in front of her laptop plotting her next story.
Social Media Links:
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cbclarkauthor/
Blog: https://cbclarkauthor.wordpress.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cbclarkauthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cbclarkauthor/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15029617.C_B_Clark
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/C.-B.-Clark/e/B01BK61TQG/
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Another LAST MAN STANDING takes the fall as DONOVAN releases today #sweetromance #LMS
My good friend KARI LEMOR has the latest LAST MAN STANDING – DONOVAN, which releases today.
Like sweet revenge?? This book’s for you!
DONOVAN – Kari Lemor
Going, going, gone, to the lady who wants sweet revenge.
Magnolia Popham never forgot the way Donovan Sinclair humiliated her when she worked for his family. Years later, he’s on the auction block to raise money for the children’s hospital, and she’s got the perfect plan to pay him back. A month mucking stalls and feeding chickens is just the thing to make him see what it feels like to be the hired help.
Donovan never meant to embarrass Maggie, yet now he’s paying the price. He didn’t know one stolen kiss years ago could cause so many problems. Toiling beside her at Popham Farm shows him the successful woman she’s become, and he’d like to get closer. Even with the drudgery of working the land, he wants nothing more than to bid on her love…and win.
“Eight thousand for this strong, strapping man to do with as you please. According to our rules, of course,” Cissy clarified, but Donovan wondered how vigorously they enforced those rules.
“Do I hear nine thousand for Donovan Sinclair?”
“Nine thousand.” Mrs. Wisenthall was determined. The others seemed to have dropped out of the race.
“We have nine thousand dollars for this handsome man. Any other takers?” Cissy waited and glanced around. Donovan couldn’t see more than shapes sitting at the tables due to the lighting.
“Okay, then. Going once, going twice—”
“Fifteen thousand dollars.”
Donovan froze. The voice wasn’t one of the ones who’d been bidding before. This one was soft as a breeze and sweet as honey with a lilting southern accent.
“Fifteen thousand. Any other bids?” Cissy cocked her head, but Mrs. Wisenthall remained silent. “Going once. Going twice. I think we have a winner.”
Donovan could make out the shape of a woman walking toward the stage. And what a shape it was. The dress was classy, floral, and hugged her figure lovingly, stopping about an inch above her knee. High heels accentuated her long, trim legs and clicked on the wood floor as she approached. A white, large-brimmed hat perched on top of her head, covering all but a long curl of brunette hair that swirled across one shoulder, then dipped between her breasts.
Well now. This was a new circumstance. Maybe he could forgive his mother if he got to spend some quality time with this exquisite creature. Provided she knew it was a temporary situation.
Cissy cleared her throat as the mystery woman sauntered closer and tipped her head up. As Donovan took in her features, memories drifted through his mind, and the blood drained from his face.
“Donovan Sinclair sold for fifteen thousand dollars to Magnolia Popham.”
Find all of Kari’s books here:
Kari Lemor has always been a voracious reader. One of those kids who had the book under the covers or under the desk at school. Even now she has been known to stay up until the wee hours finishing a good book. Romance has always been her favorite, stories of people fighting through conflict to reach their happily ever after.
Writing wasn’t something she enjoyed when young and only in the last few years began putting the stories that ran rampant in her head, down on paper.
Now that her kids are all grown and have moved out, she uses her spare time to create character-driven stories of love and hope.
She spends her time with her husband divided between a small town in New England and beautiful St. Augustine.
See all the LAST MEN STANDING hunks here: LMS
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Peggy Jaeger, Author 