A #tuesdaytease with the clock running out…

Today is the last day you can enter my Goodreads Giveaway for a chance at an ecopy of Perfect Match, which will be released on 4.7.25. I’m giving away 100 Kindle copies to 100 lucky winners – the Goodreads Gods choose the winners. I have found that doing a giveaway like this for past books has garnered me a vast amount of new-to-me-writers, so the cost has been worth it.

Today’s tease for the book is the first time Olivia and Hunter kiss. It’s an awkward kiss, neither of them thinking it was going to be on the lips – much less as mindblowing as it was for both of them…

“I need to go back,” he said, returning.

“Problem?”

“My Arms patient has taken a turn and the staff is worried.” He tucked his phone back into the holder on his belt, and slipped the pager into his pocket.

“Well, I’m glad you at least had something to eat.” She followed behind him to the front door as he slid his suit jacket back on. “Especially if you’re going to be at the hospital for a while.”

As he shot the cuffs he peered down at her, his brows kissing as his mouth quirked. Once done, he buttoned the jacket and exhaled. “Olivia.”

Nervously, her lips twitched. “Hunter,” she said in the same serious tone he’d just used. “One of these days we’re going to have a discussion about why you don’t call me Liv like everyone else does. Olivia is so formal and stuffy.”

“It’s not formal or stuffy at all. It’s beautiful, just like you are and it suits you.”

Her nose squinched and wriggled. “Makes me sound like a maiden aunt with fifteen cats.”

He shook his head and then bent down to kiss her cheek. For some reason, though – and she was seriously going to have to think about why once he was gone – Liv turned into the kiss and his mouth landed on hers.

Shock paralyzed her. She knew she should back away or at least turn her head again, but simply…couldn’t.

Truth? Didn’t want to.

His mouth, Lord, his mouth!

How was it possible for such a masculine man, a man with a body that hinted at strength and solidity, to have the softest lips she’d ever felt?

Soft and silky and…succulent. Like ripe peaches, juicy and just begging to be…eaten?

It was as if she hadn’t just had dinner – hadn’t had anything to eat in days. Like a woman starved of sustenance, Liv simply devoured him.

Before she could understand what was happening, her hands lifted to his cheeks, cupping them, the subtle scratch of his evening scruff prickling against her fingers and driving her…insane.

Insane with a need she couldn’t have guessed she’d possessed.

Her own shock was nothing compared to the swift hiss she heard him expel right before he shifted, drawing her closer as he wound his arms around her waist. With her next breath, she was plastered against him, every long line of his body pressed against her. Had he pulled her to him, or had she simply cleaved?

She wasn’t sure, but the descriptions she’d had of him being strong and solid were proven truthful. She could add one more word to the list as her body molded to his, liquifying into every ridge and muscle and valley of his form: hard.

All over.

His tongue swiped at her mouth, insistently; firmly; commanding she open for him.

It was never a thought or consideration not to.

Liv’s lips parted and she inhaled him as if his very breath gave her life.

 As he deepened the kiss, Liv’s head dropped back giving him full access. To her mouth…her body…her very soul.

Her career, her business, her reputation be damned. All that mattered was right here, right now, with this man.

She slid her fingers through the opening of his jacket to glide up and down his back, every curve of muscle she skimmed over harder than the one before it.

The man was a mountain of defined sinew under his clothing, begging the image of what he must look like without it to surface in her mind. A tiny gasp escaped her when his hands slid down to the dip in her spine, his fingers spreading the expanse of the space, flirting with the top of her ass.

Her blood zipped through her veins, heating her in places she hadn’t felt warmth in quite some time.

Too long.

The shriek of his pager abruptly screeched around them, shocking them apart. Liv had no idea what she looked like, but Hunter’s face told a story she thought might mimic hers. Confusion creased his brow while desire still danced in his eyes. His mouth was a swollen mass of perfection, his lips wet and plump, his face flushed from chin to temple in a rosy glow of lust.

Without a word, their gazes locked, he reached down to his belt and pulled the annoying device from its holder.

A quick eye flick at it then he said, “I have to…go…” his voice jagged and, to her ears, thick with emotion.

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around her chest and moved around him to open the door.

“Olivia—”

“You’d better go, Hunter,” she said, shocking herself at the calmness in her voice, when her insides were swirling like wind galloping down Tornado Alley. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

He winced, his eyes almost closing.

Don’t forget to enter the contest. And if you’re not on GoodReads, or just want to get the book on your own, the pre-order is available now on Amazon at the link above. It’ll go into KU for 90 days, then go wide.

Good luck and happy reading, kids ~ Peg

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I rise…

I’ve thought about this quote often in my life…

When I was bullied in grade school because my last name was different from my mother’s. The 60s were a difficult time for the children of divorce because it was such a new phenomenon and people fear what isn’t familiar.

But even as a child, I rose above the bullying.

When I missed prom, senior day, and all the fun festivities of high school life because no one asked me to attend.

When I was told I was fat and ugly and everyone hated me because I thought I was smart and teacher’s pet. ( P.S. I was smart.)

When I was called difficult and overstepping by a doctor because I challenged him on a patient’s status. (P.S. I was right, in the end, and the doctor never wanted to work with me again.)

And I rose to a position of authority within the nursing department, forcing the doctor to work with me or move his patients. He didn’t move his patients.

When I was told the hospital/clinic wouldn’t give me the raise I deserved because I wasn’t worth the money. (P.S. I got the raise after I threatened to walk off the job and they had no one to replace me. Plus I proved to them, through income stats, that I made them money.)

When I was rejected over 500 times by agents/publishers/editors who told me my work wasn’t good enough for them, or that it didn’t fit the kind of books they wanted or needed. That my words wouldn’t sell and just weren’t…marketable.

And still, I rose by winning contest after contest and garnering a reader following.

From every soul-killing, tormented, and tortured event in my life, where I was kicked down, mortified and made to feel less than, I rose.

Why?

Why was I able to do this, to feel this powerful sense of self when I should have cowered in a corner and faded away into an emotional dustbunny?

When I should have been defeated, dejected, and despondent?

When I should have given up, given in, and let gloom invade my soul?

The answer lies in my DNA.

I’m a woman.

When we fall, we get up.

When we are punched down, we lift and strike back.

When we are made to feel less than, we prove we are more than enough.

Because we rise; we always rise.

Like air, we rise.

And always will…

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89

Strange title for a post, but read on, and you’ll see why.

My mother was born in 1936. Yup. She would have been 89 years old today if she had lived.

This is her high school graduation picture. She never graduated, though. She had to leave high school with just six months left to graduate to take care of her ailing mother and younger sister.

At 17, she had to go to work full-time. Back in the 1950’s there weren’t many jobs an uneducated woman could get that would actually help support a family. She wound up in a bank as a junior teller.

For the rest of her life, that missed high school diploma followed her from menial job to menial job. Did we live in poverty? By today’s definition, yeah. In the 1960’s and 70’s, we were considered lower middle class. A two-income household that barely paid its bills each month and had a lot of debt. We didn’t have extras, sometimes had just a sandwich for dinner.

But my mother persevered. She tried to get her GED twice, but the work didn’t compute in her brain and she couldn’t pass the test.

She died suddenly two years ago. She’d just turned 87 a week before her death.

Today, I honor her life, so hard lived. She never lost her capacity to love, though. She had her issues, mental and physical. But she was my mother, and even though our relationship was tortured at times, I loved, and love her, with everything in me.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mommie. If I can’t have you here with me, I’m glad you’re one of my guardian angels in Heaven now.

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#Saturdayshare and a reminder…

Last week I told you about my current GOODREADS GIVEAWAY for PERFECT MATCH book 3 in my Heaven’s Matchmaker series, so today I just wanted to send out a reminder in case you haven’t entered yet.

The contest ends on March 11, and it’s for 1 of 100 copies of the book, which will be distributed on release day, APRIL 7, 2025.

In case you’ve forgotten ( or been living under a rock, because I’ve talked about this book to the extent even I’m getting sick of hearing about it! LOLOLOL) here’s the blurb:

PERFECT MATCH (OLIVIA AND HUNTER, HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER, BOOK 3)

Third-generation matchmaker, Olivia Joyner, enjoys a 99% success rate when it comes to helping people find their happily ever afters. But her newest client is proving to be part of the 0.1 percent.

All the women Olivia have matched geriatrician Hunter Reinhart with have been perfect on paper. None of them, though, have resulted in a second request for a date, and all the women say the same thing: Hunter, although handsome and successful is just…dull. And boring. And too reserved.

Olivia can’t understand it, because to her? Hunter is none of those things. In fact, he’s the exact opposite of dull, boring, and reserved. He’s a man she would consider worthy of marrying herself – if she was in the market for a spouse.

Which she isn’t.

Olivia needs to figure out why she can’t find Hunter Reinhart the perfect match, and it just may require her to do something she’s never done before: go on a “date” with a client.

Purely for research and educational purposes, that is.

Here’s the entry link again: GOODREADS GIVEAWAY

And if you don’t want to enter, you can just preorder the book, here, at AMAZON or on my Website, here: order form

The benefit of getting it from me is that it’s cheaper than the ‘Zon plus I can autograph it!

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#ThrowbackThursday

It’s always fun for me to go back and re-read posts I did several years ago when I was just starting out as a full-time writer. This post is from August of 2018, which was only 6 years ago but seems like it took place in an alternative universe eons ago. Pre-pandemic, pre-my mother’s death, pre-Insurrection, pre-everything we are going through right now.

Title of the piece was A DIFFERENT TRACK?


It’s been a little over a week since I got home from the RWA 2018 conference. Last week I basically played catch-up with my life.  Laundry needed to get done, groceries needed to be shopped for, I had to pay a passel of bills, clean my house, visit and check on my mother, the car was scheduled for an oil change and tune-up, I had a repeat mammogram, a weeks’ worth of blogs to write, PLUS I had a deadline for edits due yesterday on a second holiday release, and my final audio chapters had to be listened to and corrected before the book goes to Audible.

Oh, and let’s not forget I needed to reconnect with my husband and daughter.

Can you spell S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D?

So, because I’m only one woman and even I – Miss Chronic Insomnia – sleep 2 hours a night, I am doing something I’ve never done before with regard to my writing.

Get ready for it, because it’s a doozy!

I, Mrs Writing is my Oxygen, am taking a bit of a writing break.

I know. Shocked the s**t out of me, too!

I’ve never actually had a vacation from writing before, even when I worked full-time. I always wrote in the evenings, on weekends, and when we traveled.

But I’m going to give myself 2 weeks off starting in a few days. I need to rest my brain and re-examine my career. This has been a busy year, writing and publishing-wise for me. I had one book come out in April ( CAN’T STAND THE HEAT), and I have at least 2 books ( DEARLY BELOVED and CHRISTMAS & CANOLLIS)  and an e-book (HOPE’S DREAM) coming out before the end of the year, plus 2 Audible books.

That’s a lot.

Really. A lot.

So….let’s see if I survive this little vaca from writing every day. I just might not be able to….breathe, and by breathe, I mean make it out on the other end alive!

Hahah. Dramatic, thy name is Peg Jaeger.

Any hoo. I’ll report back after my self imposed exile ends. Until then, I’ll be scheduling some stuff  on Hootsuite I’m writing a head of time, so you’ll still hear from me regularly.

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Re-release day and I…forgot!

How do these days just keep rolling by so fast? Today is the re-release day for SKATER’S WALTZ Book 3 in the MacQuire Women series and I totally spaced it. Didn’t do any marketing, preorder alerts, release countdown!

Yikes!

Tempus Fugit to the max!

This book was originally published as the first installment in the original MACQUIRE WOMEN series from The Wild Rose Press. I wrote Tiffany’s story first, and then the publisher wanted to make it a series, so I went backward and wrote Carly’s story, then Serena’s and her children’s.

When I attained the copyrights back, I decided to republish them in the correct order so you could experience the lives and loves of the MacQuire women as they unfolded.

THE VOICES of ANGLES is book 1 now. This is Carly and Mike’s story.

PASSION’S PALETTE, book 2, explores Serena and Shamus Cleary’s love affair.

SKATER’S WALTZ, book 3. Tiffany and Cole are front and center.

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, book 4. Moira Cleary ( Serena’s daughter) and Quentin Stapleton

and FIRST IMPRESSIONS completes the series with book 5 centering on Padric Cleary (Serena’s son) and Dr. Clarissa Rogers.

I hope you enjoy reading all the books in the series as much as I did writing them. Some of the original text has been changed, updated, and modernized. Hopefully, these changes – although they don’t change the storylines – will make the books easier to read.

Happy reading, and don’t forget to believe in Happily Ever Afters. They really do exist.

SKATER’S WALTZ

Olympic award-winning figure skater Tiffany Lennox is busy with rehearsals for an upcoming ice show when the only man she’s ever loved comes home after a two-year overseas stint. She needs him to see her for the woman she’s become and not the child he knew to ensure he stays home, this time, for good.

With her.

For all his wanderlust and hunger for professional success, Cole Greer comes home wanting nothing more than to rest, relax, and recover. He is delighted to be Tiffany’s hero and has a special place in his heart reserved for her. But faced with the oh-so-desirable woman she’s become he starts questioning his determination to keep their relationship platonic.

A series of “accidents” plagues Tiffany and threatens her show and Cole realizes he will do anything to keep the woman he loves safe. When forced by the television network to go back on assignment, Cole – for the first time in his life – is torn between his career and his heart.

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Let’s talk about a Goodreads giveaway…

I’ve done so many Goodreads giveaways now, I’m an expert at setting them up.

Really.

For my 4.7.25 release of PERFECT MATCH ( Heaven’s Matchmaker book 3) I wanted to try and garner some new readers. Whenever I want to do that, a Goodreads giveaway seems like the perfect way to do it.

So………

You can probably write what’s coming next, kids.

For my 4.7.25 release of PERFECT MATCH, starting today, February 27.25 and going until March 11, 2025, I’m having a GOODREADS GIVEAWAY.

Enter here for a chance to win 1 of the 100 free Kindle copies I’m giving away for book 3.( You don’t have to read books 1 and 2 to know what’s going on because they are all standalone novels.) GIVEAWAY

Don’t forget to add the book to your WANT TO READ LIST and check the box, here:

Hurry! Enter today.

And GOOD LUCK!

(PS> even if you don’t win, I hope you’ll still consider preordering it and reading it when it’s released on 4.7.25~0

Peg.

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#tuesdaytease

Okay, so Tuesday teases are supposed to be little snippets of the books or stories you are currently writing, editing, or working on.

Today, I want to do something a little different for my “tease” and tease a workshop I was just notified I will be giving at the National Romance Writers of America conference this July in Ontario, Canada.

I am so honored to be able to present at a national conference of romance writers.

So stinking honored!

So the title of my workshop is ENTERING CONTESTS AS A MARKETING TOOL.

I first gave this workshop a few years ago to my local chapter and I am also presenting it at the Maine Writers Retreat in May. Here’s the description….

As writers, we know finding new readers can be difficult. The advent of the pandemic shutdown made it next to impossible for writers to meet new readers face-to-face at places like book signings, library events, or conferences.  Social media only gets you so far, and let’s be honest: wouldn’t we all rather be writing than marketing our books?

Have you ever considered entering a contest to find new readers? It’s a unique mindset because most people enter contests to, well, win them!

Come hear why I believe entering writing contests is an effective marketing strategy and tool for getting your books into the hands of new-to-you readers.

This workshop explores the ins and outs of contest submissions, the ones that are right for you, where to find them, and the things you should consider before entering one.

If you are a member of RWA ( yay!) I hope you will consider attending the national conference this year. It will be at Niagra Falls on the Canadian side, someplace I have never been. I’m looking forward to being a tourist and exploring Canada while I’m there.

When things like this happen to me it really validates that what I am doing with my life – writing romance – is what I AM supposed to be doing with my life.

That’s just a little mental health thought for my day…

Be well, kids. ~ Peg

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Monday musings…

Or just one musing, really. Is that a proper phrase? One musing? Or should it be one thought?

These are the things that drive me insane some days.

Who am I kidding- MOST days! LOL

Anyway. Today’s musing ( singular) is this…I was thinking yesterday while writing that I haven’t done much of anything aside from write for almost three weeks. Granted, I’m on a deadline and have to finish my current WIP in order for it to be out this year, but I’ve been pretty much chained to my desk and my bed ( my favorite place to write) for 21 solid days.

That can’t be healthy, right?

I need an outlet other than writing for my mental health and physical well-being.

Sure, I cook for hubby, do laundry, iron, clean the house, grocery shop, do all my social media marketing daily, but those are more chores than things that give me true pleasure and take my mind away from the business of writing.

I need an outlet. Something I do just for me. Something that will give me a respite from the stress and angst my writing causes me some days.

I need a hobby.

I used to repair and refurbish old steamer trunks and then give them as gifts to people for storage or as faux coffee tables, but I haven’t done one in a few years.

I used to scrapbook. Haven’t touched the one I started for my daughter when she got married – almost 5 years ago.

Back in the day, I was a gym rat. Back when I had good knees and no arthritis, that is.

I studied karate for 10 years. Daily. 7 days a week. Again… back before my body decided it hated me and rebelled.

There was a time I embroidered. I made blankets, wall hangings, lots of things for Christmas presents and baby showers. That was back when I could actually sit down and watch TV or a movie for more than a half hour at a clip. And when my eyesight was oodles better than it is now. And my hands could hold both the needle and the circular frame without screaming in cramping pain.

Same with knitting and crocheting. I loved doing those things back when my hands cooperated, that is.

Le sigh….

I was painting last year. I needed some new swag to give out to readers at book signings, so I spent a few weeks increasing my stock of painted note cards. But my brushes haven’t touched any paints in a while now.

Basically, all I do now is read – books I want to and those that need reviews for Netgalley.

And I write.

Every single day.

8-12 hours a day most days.

You really can’t call what I do a hobby, like my hubby tries to classify it. It’s more like a full-time job.

No. It is a full-time job.

I need a hobby.

Any ideas? They’d be appreciated, for sure.

It can’t be anything physical, though, because…arthritis. Or that requires me to leave the house because…it’s frigging frigid here and I hibernate in the winter. And it can’t be anything that requires close up vision because…double vision and prism glasses rule my life.

And it shouldn’t be anything that needs to be done with a partner or other people because…well, I’m an introvert.

Le sigh…

I guess I’ll just go write some more.

Or maybe read something…

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#sundayshare…

PERFECT MATCH ( HEAVEN’s MATCHMAKER book 2) releases in just 6 weeks, so, of course, I’ve got to start the pre-promo blitz for it.

This is the part of being a writer I hate – all the marketing. I swear, if I ever hit Powerball, I’m hiring a PR and marketing firm to do all this for me!

Anyhoo…

So, Perfect Match is book 3 in the series, and it’s the story of matchmaker Olivia Joyner and Hunter Reinhardt, one of the .01% of clients she can’t find a match for. Since she has 99% success rate, she figures finding him a wife should be easy peasy. After all, he’s handsome, successful, rich, and actually wants to get married again. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Yeah…no. So far, none of the dates she’s set him on have worked out and for the life of her, she can’t understand why the women think he’s boring and reserved and no fun, since she finds him none of those things.

Liv devises a plan to find out just what’s happening on those get-to-know-you-dates. What ensues, is a story filled with acceptance, caring, and a slow burn love awareness of one another. I loved writing this book and was so happy I could give Liv her HEA.

Here’s a little sumthin; sumthin‘ from the book to ( hopefully) whet your appetite to preorder it.

“You are the most capable woman I’ve ever met,” he said, simply, because it was the truth.  Without knowing why, he rose and crossed to her side of the table. Squatting in front of her, he was fascinated when her eyes went wide as he took her hands and squeezed them. “But even the most capable people need someone they can just,” he shook his head, once, “let loose with. Unburden to. Discuss and digest everything with.”

“I-I’m…okay,” she managed, her gaze never leaving his. Her eyes were huge, wet pools of emotions. His insides quaked when he found her eyelashes spikey with unshed tears. The urge to kiss her, yank her into his arms, and calm away all those fears he knew she carried about inside her, hidden from everyone, was so strong, he physically had to pull his head from leaning down and sliding his lips across her beautiful mouth. He’d give anything to just spend the day with her. Just her. No fake date attached to it all.

He swallowed.

“I know you are Olivia, but please know, please realize, it’s okay not to be okay at times.”

Wonder crossed her gaze as one wet, fat tear cascaded down her cheek. Hunter released one of her hands and swiped at it with his index finger.

“And,” he added his voice hushed, “there’s no shame in asking for help. Especially from people who care about you. Please believe and know that.”

“I- I…do.” She managed to say. Her voice was raw and raspy, like she’d given fifty public speeches that day and now her vocal cords were revolting.

He squeezed her hands again, the rest of what he wanted to say going unspoken as his pager blared from his belt buckle.

With an unsaid oath, he stood and pulled the device from its holder, simultaneously taking his phone from his pocket.

“Excuse me,” he said, seeing fear jump to her face. Gentling his voice, he said, “It’s the Arms, not the hospital.”

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