So if my ego wasn’t already swelling, A PRIDE OF BROTHERS: RICK is a RONE NOMINEE in the suspense/thriller category this week. Voting goes from April 26-May2
The rules for voting are the same. You have to log into www.indtale.com and then click on the SUSPENSE/THRILLER category to see the nominees. A PRIDE OF BROTHERS:RICK should be at the top to vote.
Thanks so much to anyone who gives me a vote/shoutout. This has been such an ego booster for me lately, when I’ve been lamenting poor sales and writing angst.
Elite bodyguard and P.I. Rick Bannerman’s job is to protect. He doesn’t get emotional with his clients, but when a woman from his past is threatened, his next job becomes personal.
Family lawyer Abigail Laine is the target of a client’s vengeful husband, but refuses Rick’s offer of protection. He walked away from her four years ago, and she swore to forget him.
Now her reluctance to accept his help could cost Abby her life.
When three single sisters inherit their Scottish great-grandmother’s wedding dress, they also inherit the legend that comes with it: put on the dress, look in a mirror, and reveal their future. The dress is more than just silk and lace, for magic has been stitched into the seams of the heirloom. For the MacLellan sisters, the enchanted wedding dress promises a legacy of everlasting love.
BLURB
Can something old lead to something new?
Jamie MacLellan is content with her life. Her business as a certified public accountant is going well, she owns her own home, and she never wants to live anywhere but Vermont, near her sisters. Why bother getting married, when no man could measure up to her father’s example of a loving, respectful husband? Then she tries on her grandmother’s wedding dress. Is the shadowy man she sees in the mirror her future, or just a trick of the light? Jamie may have vowed to stay single, but could the handsome lawyer she’s been dating could be “the one”? Then she meets his sexy twin brother, who, with a simple look, sets Jamie’s heart racing.
Caleb Sullivan has clients all over the world who appreciate his skills as a traveling personal chef. The footloose and fancy-free lifestyle isn’t always as glamourous as it seems, and sometimes Caleb secretly longs to settle down, but for now, there’s a lot of food to cook and a lot of world to see. But Jamie MacLellan’s crystal blue eyes have him dreaming unexpected dreams.
How can Jamie fall for a man who’ll be away more than he’ll be home? She’s a happy homebody who loves her roots. He’s a traveling vagabond. But it was Caleb that Jamie saw in the mirror. Will she turn her back on a chance at a once in a lifetime love, or is Jamie ready to embrace the promise an enchanted old wedding dress holds for a new future?
EXCERPT
Jamie went in search of scissors and pointed to the closet. “Kenz, the box is in there.” Kenzie opened the door and carefully carried the box to the coffee table, as if it contained something irreplaceable.
Jamie returned, and said, her hand hovering over the tape, “Here goes nothing.”
Grace came in holding a bottle of wine. “Be careful, Sissy,” she whispered reverently. “It was Gran’s, so it’s really old.”
Jamie held her breath as she cautiously sliced through the layers of packing tape and eased back the cardboard flaps.
Standing on tiptoes, Kenzie peered over her shoulder. “What is it?”
Jamie withdrew a cream-colored envelope. “It’s a letter.” Grace reached out to pull back the bubble wrap when Jamie touched her hand. “Wait. We should read it first and then we’ll see what’s inside.”
Kenzie stretched out her hand. “I’ll read it.” She slit open the wax seal and pulled out several pieces of stationery. Glancing down, she said, “I don’t remember Gran’s handwriting so spider web like, so it might take a while.”
Grace leaned in and studied the page. “I don’t think its Gran’s. What if it’s Great-gran’s? You know Dad’s grandmother.”
Jamie admonished, “If we stop talking and let Kenz read, I’ll bet we find out.” She picked up her wineglass and settled back on the sofa cushions.
My dearest granddaughters,
This is your father’s grandmother writing to you long before you were even a gleam in his eye or even before he had any interest in lassies. If you have received this box, it means that I’ve had the joy of seeing my beloved daughter, your grandmother, again. I’m sorry for your loss and hope your memories of her will sustain you through the years to come and her wisdom will guide you. I will assume you have a box from your Gran. Have you looked inside? If not, carefully unwrap the contents and lay the three items I chose for you on a table.
Jamie’s eyes grew wide as she looked at her sisters. “What the hell, is she psychic or something?”
Grace clapped a hand over her mouth. “Remember, Gran said the women in our family were special. Maybe that’s what she was talking about.”
Kenzie’s eyebrow shot up. “That would explain a few things about Gran. She always seemed to have eyes on us all the time.”
Absentmindedly Jamie tapped her glass with her finger. “Do you remember the time…I must have been around ten. We decided to get up early and go fishing, and when we got to the bottom of the stairs Gran was dressed and waiting for us? I know we never talked about sneaking off while we were in the house where she could hear us.”
“You’re right.” Grace let out a rush of breath. “Our sneaky plans were always hatched underneath that old willow tree near the creek.”
Kenzie gasped. “Oh, wow. That does make me wonder about all kinds of things.”
Jamie waved her hands toward the box. “Enough speculating about Gran being able to read our minds—let’s see what’s inside.”
Taking care not to rush, Grace took a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. She pulled back the paper and cut the bubble wrap inside, to discover a carved wooden box. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Should I open it?”
“Hold on, let’s see what Kenzie has.”
Kenzie withdrew a large floppy package wrapped in white tissue paper tied with the deep green satin ribbon. She pulled back the paper, revealing a large piece of wool, a Scottish tartan. “Isn’t this the MacLellan plaid?” She carefully placed it on the back of the sofa.
Jamie and Grace nodded, eager to see the third item.
“One item left, Jamie, your turn.” Kenzie slid the box in front of her older sister.
Jamie pulled out an identical-looking package tied with the same ribbon. “Do you think it’s another plaid, maybe a cape?” She tugged the bow and eased back the tissue paper.
“Oh my gosh! It’s a wedding dress.” Awestruck, Grace reached out and fingered the silky fabric. “Do you think it was Great-gran’s?”
This is the first time I’ve ever added an anthology for my backlist.
At the beginning of 2020 ( before Covid ruled the world) Australia was engulfed in flames. One of the Wild Rose Press authors is an Australian and asked if there was some way we, as authors, could come together to raise money for the RedCross to aid the firefighters and the people devastated by the fires.
A three part anthology titled AUSTRALIA BURNS came from that one question. Multiple WRP authors contributed stories to the collection and took no royalties from sales – their money was donated instead.
Love that.
My addition was a little story I’d written when I was concetrating on writing murder mysteries and not romance. The story, THE TUESDAY NIGHT MEETING, is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written.
Here’s a quick excerpt, and if you want to purchase the anthology, here’s the link: AUSTRALIA BURNS. I’m in volume 1
“Cora,” Mavis aid, capturing the entire attention of the room, “do you know anything about our group?” She shook her head and swiped at her still running nose. “Not much, Ma-am. I know you give out scholarships to worthy high school girls for college. And you support the poor, especially at the holidays. I’ve seen write-ups in the paper about the good things y’all have done. But aside from those, I don’t know much else. Excepting,” she said, “ that you’re all widows.”
The members of the club collectively smiled at her.
“That’s why I thought it strange to be asked here tonight. I’m not a widow.”
“Let me start at the beginning, dear, so you’ll understand how our little club came to be.”
Settling back in the chair, Wisteria took a breath then began her tale.
“You probably don’t remember my late husband, Major Plowright. I believe he passed when you were just a baby. Well, my dear, if there was ever a tougher man in the world to live with, I’d be sore pressed to believe it. I truly feel the moment he was brought into the world a military angel crossed his path and predestined him for a soldiers’ life. His mother told me after we’d been married for about a year that even as a child, everything had to be precision perfect in his world. He tolerated no fools, silliness or any kind of good-natured fun. I didn’t realize this when I married him, mind you. I know now I fell in love with his spit and polish exterior and superior manner. I never could resist a good lookin’ man in a uniform.”
A few well-knowing chuckles escaped throughout the room.
“Well, married life was kind of sweet for a while. I got used to his ranting and raving about precision and cleanliness and order. But when the Major was forced to retire at a very early age, well, it all changed. He changed. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I was plum worn out with three babies and a big house to care for, and he never helped a lick with anything. One day he came home from his club and my youngest had spilled his juice all over the kitchen floor. I was just about to clean it up, but the Major didn’t let me. He stormed into the room, saw the mess and started screaming and hollering so loud I thought my little Jimmy’s diapers were gonna fall off. When I tired to explain about the mess, he smacked me across the face. Knocked me clear across the kitchen with one felled swoop of the back of his hand. I was so stunned I didn’t see the next one coming. He was raving about me being an inadequate wife and mother and that he was going to teach me a lesson I’d never forget. He was right about it, too. I never forgot that first beating or all the others he gave me after. I do believe he came to enjoy it when he struck me down. I’d see a gleam in his eyes, kind of like the one I’d seen when he was in the throes of passion, whenever he hit me.”
Wisteria stopped and refreshed herself with a sip of tea.
“Miz Plowright, ma-am. I had no idea,” Cora said.
“Of course not, darlin’. In those days, why, a woman was barely a step above chattel. Men’s property; bought and sold.”
“What did you do? I mean, did you stay with the Major?”
“For a while. I ran away with the children once, to my mother. But the Major followed me and dragged us all back. The beating I endured that night broke my left arm and two of my ribs.”
“I remember he went around town the next day telling everyone who’d listen that you fell down the front steps because you were rushing off somewhere in a dither,” Molly Kane said.
When Cora gasped, Wisteria patted her hand sand said, “You see, Cora. We’ve all lied at one time or another about our bruises.”
“Finish your story, Wisteria,” Mavis commanded.
After taking another sip of tea, she did. ”I knew I had to do something about the situation, but what? I couldn’t leave him. He’d shown me how he’d hunt me down and bring me back. Divorce was out of the question in those days. No self respectin’ woman of the South would ever be seen in divorce court, airing all her dirty personal laundry. I finally figured out I had two options. I could stay and put up with this man I’d grown to fear and hate until he finally succeeded in killing me, or…”
“Or?” Cora prompted.
“Or I could rid myself and the children of him right then and there.”
Cora’s loud intake of air was the one sound in the room. To the question in her eyes, Wisteria merely inclined her head.
“Yes, my dear. I killed my husband. It was the only way I could survive.”
In honor of April, I give you an April showers mug that my dear friend Jill gave me several years ago. One of my book covers has a couple embracing in the rain under a red umbrella. She found this mug and thought of me.
And the cover of the book was based on this very famous photograph I sent to my cover artist for inspiration:
Don’t you just love when all that stuff ties together? It’s like art Karma meets book Karma meets cup Karma!
Love that!!!
So, do you have any seasonal mugs?? Show me so I can gawk, heehee!
And here’s a little about THE VOICES OF ANGELS if you’re interested – which I hope you are, LOL!
Love is the last thing Carly Lennox is looking for when she sets out on her new book tour. The independent, widowed author is content with a life spent writing and in raising her daughter. When newscaster Mike Woodard suggests they work on a television magazine profile based on her book, Carly’s thrilled, but guarded. His obvious desire to turn their relationship into something other than just a working one is more than she bargained for.
Mike Woodard is ambitious, and not only in his chosen profession. He wants Carly, maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything or anyone else. As he tells her, he’s a patient man. But the more they’re together, Mike realizes it isn’t simply desire beating within him. Carly Lennox is the missing piece in his life. Getting her to accept it-and him-may just be the toughest assignment he’s ever taken on.
Happy Monday, peeps ~ Peg
And remember, if you’re looking for me, I’m always here:
So, I’m not the type of person who puts it all out there. I know that sounds ridiculous because I write a blog where I post about my writing life, a few weird and wonderful things that happen to me, and introduce my readers to other authors I love. I tell things about myself that are public knowledge and that don’t really dig deep into my psyche. I don’t write a great deal about my family because they didn’t ask to be used in a forum such as this and I value their privacy.
I do, too.
But…
There comes a time in life when you simply need to get a few things off your chest and admit you have a problem.
I’m putting on my big girl Depends today and doing that.
Bear with me for a little backstory and explanation, first.
The past year hasn’t been one any of us will remember with pleasure. Covid, for lack of a more sophisticated phrase, sucks moose. Big time. Not being able to see friends or family, not being able to hug my daughter, having her postpone her wedding at 3 different times, none of that has been grand. My parents have basically seen no one but each other and me for the better part of 12 months.
Fast forward a bit.
My husband and I adopted a dog in September 2020. I missed not having a dog in the house – but it’s been 21 years since I did. Being the parent of a puppy at the age of 60 is not like it was when I was 28 and we adopted our first lab. I’m older, more tired, and not as strong. Plus, I hate to admit this, my patience is not what it was, either. These past 7 months have been challenging, to the say the least, with her. But we love her to the moon and back, so…
Fast forward again.
A few weeks ago my mother fell at home and broke the one hip she hadn’t broken yet. Three years ago she broke the first. So now she’s 2 for 2. As of last week she is in a rehab center with very strict Covid restrictions. She can have no visitors who are not fully vaccinated, and even then, she can only see someone for 20 minutes twice a week. My stepfather is at their home, bored, lonely, and let’s be honest- not at his mental best at the age of 83. I have been shuttling to and fro ( they live in another state, 25 miles 1 way from me, so 50 miles round trip) several times a week to take care of him, make sure he is okay, and even take him to visit my mother when he is allowed. I am not allowed to visit her yet because I only received my second vaccine dose this past Wednesday. I need to quarantine from her for 14 days, so by the end of the month I can see her in person.
Trying to write has been…trying. There is no other word for it. I am exhausted from caring for the puppy – who has been sick monthly since we got her with various ailments – traveling to my parent’s, taking care of my own house and husband and basically, trying to get a shower in once in a while.
My mental status reads OVERWHELMED on a daily basis. So much so, that today I did something I haven’t done in twenty years just to attempt to comfort myself. More about that in a sec.
It’s accurate to say I have reached a mental and physical low point. I haven’t been able to go to the gym because…Covid and restrictions, so my body is as gelatinous as it has been in decades. If I were able to get it measured, I would venture to state there is not one hard part of my body.
Well, maybe my head. But that’s it.
There aren’t many ways I can comfort myself and try to perk myself up, other than writing, which…read the above! So I’ve been eating.
A lot.
A way lot.
Today, after bringing the dog to the vet for the second time in two days, and after traveling in a wonderful April Nor’Easter to Vermont to bring stepdad to the rehab center, then back home again, I was feeling so low, basements looked as high as sky scrapers to me. So…I went to McDonalds.
Were you expecting that? Maybe not. But here’s the thing: I haven’t eaten fast food like that since my daughter was 9 years old, won the State Spelling Bee and one of her prizes was free Mcdonalds’ for a year.
Things have changed since the last time I was there. First…Covid, so everyone wears masks and gloves. Two, the drive thru is high tech. No more screaming into a speaker that distorts your voice and makes chicken mcnuggets sound like “licking maggots.” Three, you pay in a different place on the drive thru line than where you pick up your food. How they keep it all flowing and get the orders right is a mystery I don’t want to know the answer to. Suffice it to say, my #1 ( Big Mac meal) was perfect when I got it. Last…supersize. That’s a thing now. No wonder our country is so overweight.
I won’t bore you with the details of how my taste buds all stood at attention – happily- the moment I opened the fries bag and got my first whiff of grease and salt. Or tell you how I don’t even think I chewed the burger, just bit and swallowed. Or even how my stomach revolted a half hour after eating. Just know that Nightshade allergies are a real thing. I’m not supposed to eat potatoes in any form. And no, I didn’t forget french fries are really potatoes.
Somethings are better off left unsaid, you know?
What I will tell you is that, for me, this was the rock bottom of the bottom. When I have to get fast food that I know makes me sick to eat in order to comfort myself and try to pull myself out of a funk, I have truly reached the bottom: emotionally, mentally, and physically.
And when you’ve reached the bottom, there really is no place else to go except back up. For me, that only means one thing. I need to get a handle on my eating again and not use food to attempt to comfort myself. The way I have done that in the past, when my emotions have run away with me, is to go back on Weight Watchers, which is what I’ve done.
I re-upped my membership and am determined to get my life off this rollercoaster of bad, non-thinking eating.
Weight Watchers has changed, just like McDonald’s has.
First…Oprah owns it now. That’s cool.
On their points program, fruits are zero points, instead of in the past when every banana, apple, or grape I ate cost me 2 points out of a daily 20.
I get points for exercising now, so yay to that! Once my 14 post-vaccine days are over, I am hitting the gym again.
My self disclosure may not seem like much to you. But for me to admit I have an eating problem at the advanced age of 60 when I should have figured this shit all out by now, is HUGE with a capital HUGE! And doing so in this forum makes me accountable, because people will read it and in the back of their minds remember it. Since I am at my core a people pleaser, I don’t want to fail at this because I don’t want to disappoint people.
And let’s face it : I don’t want to disappoint myself this time, either.
I’m debating whether or not I want to take the dreaded BEFORE picture, though. Everyone (and by that I mean the WW people) says you should, so in the future you can see how far you’ve come, but I don’t know. That will force me to really see what I look like – something I don’t want to do. Okay, let’s be honest: it’s something I’m terrified of seeing!
What’s that old saw? If it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger?
Here’s hoping I don’t drop dead when I see myself in celluloid!
My wonderful and talented Wild Rose Press sistah, D.V. Stone, stopped by the other day so we could celebrate the 1 year anniversary, or as we writers say our BOOK BIRTHDAY, of her novel ROCK HOUSE GRILL. D.V. was all faklempt – and so was I – when she told me about her road to the book’s publication. I think you’ll enjoy the story, too, so here’s D.V…..
I can’t believe it’s been a year already since publication. The road to get there was filled with potholes and detours. Rock House Grill started out as a NaNoWriMo challenge in November of 2015. The challenge is 50,000 words in 30 days. I was able to complete the first draft and received my certificate. Then, like many manuscripts, it was set aside while I finished other projects. I had a couple of independents in the hopper and focused on those.
Fast forward to 2019. I pulled up some old files, and there sat Rock House waving at me. “Hey, remember me?” I did, and with fresh eyes, began to revisit. I’d always dreamed of becoming a traditionally published author. To be able to say, my publishing house—my editor. I began to send out query letters. Let’s just say most places don’t even send a response, much less express an interest.
I sent several letters out in May. Word of warning. Be careful to look things over before you hit send. In horror, I realized the salutation in the email to The Wild Rose Press had another’s name on it. Panic ensued, and a new email went out. “Wild Rose Press. I know you’re The Wild Rose Press!”
Well, I blew that one. Wait. Not necessarily. A few days before my birthday, there was a ding in my inbox. Please send… OMG! Then came the next. Please send the full manuscript. After a couple of starts, stops, and a change in editors, this came on Jul 13, 2017.
Dear Donna,
My name is ELF and I am the editor who has been assigned to evaluate your story, “The Rock House Grill,” for The Wild Rose Press.
Poor ELF didn’t know what she was getting into. At one point, she had to use tough love and warn me I had one more chance.
So here we are in 2021. You do the math. Publishing for me is not a straight road. I imagine for many, it’s a long pothole-filled one. But don’t give up. Even when you send the wrong email.
Rock House Grill and I are celebrating our first birthday together. Coming soon is the second Impact book Jazz House. Who knows when that book birthday will be. But I’m sure it will be as sweet as this one. You want to know why? Just like having more than one child, holding each of your subsequent books is an amazing feeling.
My final word to you? Go forth and be bold. Don’t let fear or worry hold you back. I promise it’s worth it.
Rock House Grill
One man’s choices—One woman’s impact
Winner NNLights Book Heaven 1st place Sweet Romance
Author Shout Out Recommended Read 2020
Aden House, successful but driven chef and TV personality, refuses to slow down. His life implodes one night, damaging him both physically and emotionally. He’s rescued by a woman he thinks of as his angel.
Shay McDowell has rebuilt her life after her divorce. She juggles volunteer EMT duties and her job, while dreaming of becoming a chef. She finds her way to Rock House Grill and back into the life of the man she helped save.
Can love be the ingredient needed to survive the many obstacles they face?
Reviews
This engrossing story had it all, mystery, suspense, and romance. The twists and turns made it impossible to put down. I enjoyed the supporting characters as well. I will be looking for more from this talented storyteller.
This book is a delightful, savory, hopeful, fun, romantic, and warmhearted read!!
I really enjoyed this romantic suspense. The author portrayed a vivid description of the glamorous world of the high-end restaurant business. The characters were believable, and I rooted for Shay, the heroine, to overcome the many obstacles in her quest to find true love with Aden, the physically and emotionally damaged hero.
Excerpt
“Easy, you’re going to be okay.” A soft voice eased through the chaos around him.
The owner of the voice grabbed his arms and held them in a firm but gentle grip. “I’m right here with you. You are not alone.”
“Can hardly m-move.” His voice slurred. “C-can’t see anything.”
“You’ve been in an accident. I’m an EMT with the ambulance squad,” the velvety voice calmly explained. “You can’t see well because we’re under a tarp. Hold still, okay?”
“‘K.” A small light flickered at the edge of his vision. It shone into a bag next to him. Penlight.
“You’re restrained to a board. It’s to keep your head from moving and causing more injury.” She continued to talk to him.
The voice reached down somewhere inside him, calming and peaceful, so he focused on it. A glow from spotlights on the outside lit whatever covered them. The shadow gave the woman the appearance of a halo—like an angel.
About the Author
Hi, my name is D. V. Stone. I am a multi-genre author of two independently published books. Felice, Shield-Mates of Dar is a fantasy romance. Agent Sam Carter and the Mystery at Branch Lake is a mid-grade paranormal. Recently, Rock House Grill was released by Wild Rose Press. Rainbow Sprinkles, a novella released on July 8th. I also host Welcome to the Campfire and A Peek Through the Window, both weekly blogs. Here’s a little more about me.
Born in Brooklyn, D.V. Stone has moved around a bit and even lived for a time on a dairy farm in Minnesota before moving back east. Throughout her wandering, she always considered herself a Jersey Girl. She met and married the love of her life, Pete—a lifelong Jersey Man, and moved this time to Sussex County. They live with Hali, a mixed breed from the local shelter, and their cat Baby.
D.V.’s career path varied from working with the disabled to become a volunteer EMT, which in turn led to working in hospital emergency rooms and then in a women’s state prison. After a few years, she took a break from medicine and became the owner of Heavenly Brew, a specialty coffee shop in Sparta, NJ, and a small restaurant in Lafayette. Life handed some setbacks. She ended up back in the medical field, but this time in a veterinary emergency hospital.
“Thank you for taking the time to read about me. Each time you open the pages to one of my books, I hope you’ll be swept away by the story and find encouragement in your own life, never to give up on hope.”
Today’s Backlisted book was released in July 2019 when I was on a family vacation in England. Two exciting things at once! DIRTY DAMSELS was my first ( and last) book for LImitless Publishing. The company dropped my future books in the series because I didn’t sell a million copies out of the chute! No lie. Actually, I should thank them because of their cancellation, I started Indie publishing and have been very happy with the results.
Anyhoo…
DIRTY DAMSELS is a modern version of Cinderella. This Cindy owns her own cleaning company, the storyline is a riches-to-rags-to-riches one.
Limitless writes their blurbs in the male first person viewpoint, so it’s a little different from what I’m used to. Here ya go:
What if Cynderella had a one-night stand with a man named Prince?
When I first saw Cynderella all covered in soot in that sexy maid uniform, I knew I wanted to be her Prince.She’s a smart and savvy businesswoman who’s built her cleaning company from the ground up.
But now that Dirty Damsels was booming, I’ve been hired to arrange a hostile takeover. But the temptation of having her was too much to ignore… We ended up spending one night together–a night neither of us will forget. Now, I want more. I need more. I want to spend every night, skin-on-skin, with my beautiful Ella.
Problem is, when she finds out who I really am, she’ll never forgive me.
Excerpt:
“Don’t look,” Nell said, close to my ear, “but this insanely hot guy has been staring at you since we sat down.”
“How can you order me not to look when you say something like that?”
“By the bar,” she said. “Dark hair, designer suit, striking eyes. The best mouth I’ve seen on a guy in ages.”
A little bell rang somewhere in the back of my head at her depiction and in the next second my eyes locked onto him.
Shocked is too tame a description when I discovered who it was. He looked as yummy and as magnificent as when he’d stood in the penthouse. With his elbow resting casually on the bar, another be-suited guy with a drink in his hand next to him.
“Do you know who he is?” Nell asked. “Because you’re gonna in about five seconds. He’s heading this way.”
He said something to the guy at his side and maneuvered along the perimeter of the dance floor, squeezing past club patrons and waiters, his gaze locked on mine.
I was hypnotized by those eyes. It was as if he were psychically holding me in place while he made his way over. I had no will of my own to look away.
Or run away.
Fear propelled me up from the chair just as he stopped in front of the table.
“Cinderella? It is you,” he said, his sexy smile slowly growing across his mouth. “You look different with your hair down. Beautiful, still,” he added.
I couldn’t think of a thing to say. The fact he stood in front of me, no, next to me now, moving in so he could be heard over the blast of the music, turned me mute. All brain synapses vaulted from my mind. I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Did you have a good nap?”
Jesus, Ella, are you kidding?
His heart-stopping smile broadened. He leaned in, grabbed my hand, squeezed it, and said, “Good enough.”
When he got closer, my nerves went into hyperdrive as the amazing smell of him wafted across the minute space separating our bodies. He smelled utterly delicious. A tangy orange mixed with musk that almost had me slanting my head into his neck just so I could nuzzle and fill myself with the scent.
“Come with me, it’s too loud right here,” he said into my ear. “I can’t hear myself think.”
In the next second I was tugged along with him, oblivious to everything but the feel of his hand as it slipped into mine. His skin was warm, the grip like iron as he hauled me away from the dance area.
When he stopped in the hallway between the bar and kitchen, he turned and said, “Better.”
For want of something to say, I simply nodded.
I’m usually not such a silent Sadie. The bar was filled to capacity with everyone drinking and yelling to be heard over the music, so the noise level was jacked way up. But we could have been the only two people in the place. My entire system focused in on him and him alone. I glanced down and noticed he still held my hand. He noticed it too, smiled, and kept right on holding it.
“I can’t believe my good luck at finding you. I feel like I need to apologize for zoning out on you this afternoon,” he said.
“It’s okay. You said you were tired.” I was amazed I got that much out of my mouth in one shot.
Intrigued? I hope so. Here’s the Universal Link if you’d like to read it: DIRTY DAMSELS
Peggy Jaeger, Author 