Category Archives: Candy Hearts

#SundaySnippet 8.25.19

AS I continue with my no-using-my-right-arm imprisonment/status, I wanted to give you a little sumthin’ sumthin’ I’ve been writing, off and on, for about 2 months. Some days I get the urge to add to it, others not, even though it’s fully outlined and plotted.

I love my San Valentino family books and the newest one I’m penning concerns a branch of the San Val’s we haven’t seen yet. Luigi San Valentino is Sonny (CHRISTMAS & CANNOLIS) and Joey’s ( A KISS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS) cousin. He owns a deli and is married to Frankie’s sister, Gracie ( Both books, plus 3 Wishes Their oldest child is Madonna “Donna” and she works for her father in the deli. Madonna would really like to NOT work for her father, but, as the oldest, the responsibility has fallen to her, especially since her five younger brothers are all pains in the ass!

These scene is a long one and sets the tone of the book. It’s unedited so don’t send me any messages about misplaced modifiers, runon sentences, or tense issue. I already know about them because this is free-writing, not uberedited prose. Hee hee.

Chapter One

Life lessons for surviving in an Italian family, number 1: never let them see you sweat.

I knew something was wrong the moment I arrived at the deli. The first indication? The back door was unlocked, something my obsessive/compulsive father made sure never happened since he was the last one to leave the store every night. He did this religiously because I was the first one to arrive every morning at the crack-ass of creation, just like today, and had to plug in the security code on the wall box in order to gain entrance and get the deli ready for the day’s business.

My daily bread and roll delivery, courtesy of my cousin Regina’s bakery, sat outside the door in a large wooden crate. I grabbed  it, and hip checked the door wide open.

The second sign all was not as it should be was the lights were lit in the entrance hallway. Since I got to work when it was still dark out no matter if it was Daylight Savings time, or Standard, I routinely had to fumble to find the wall switch to illuminate the back end of the deli.

Not so this morning.

The final signal something was amiss was the smell.

I’ve been around raw meat my entire life since I grew up in my father’s kitchen and then worked at the deli he owned and operated in our neighborhood since I was eleven years old. The smell of animal blood was as recognizable to me as my mother’s knock-off L’ air du temp. Although, admittedly, mom’s perfume smelled way better. Most days, anyway.

The scent filling the air this morning was both familiar and different. Wrong, somehow.

“Hello?” I called out. “Is someone here?” An eerie sense of quiet surrounded me. I put the bread crate down on the tiled floor. Cautiously, I crept along the hallway leading to the front end of the deli, my hand sliding against the wall, my huge purse held in front of me like Wonder Woman’s golden shield of protection.

Being the oldest of six kids and the only girl to boot, I don’t scare easily. My brothers, are, each and every one of them, a pain in the ass to their cores and I’d grown up the victim of their arguably stupid shenanigans too many times to keep count. Cooked linguini placed in my bed to look like worms; a farting cushion stuck in my usual chair at the dinner table and just waiting for me to settle unknowingly on it; toothpaste spread on my sandwich instead of peanut butter. More times than I could remember one of them would hide in my closet and then jump out at me when I least suspected it. Anything and everything dumb and dumber they could think up to annoy me, they’d done. And still did to this day if they thought they could get away with it. Chronological maturity hadn’t made its way to their brains yet and they all still acted liked little boys when it came to infuriating me.

This spine tingling sense of unease ripping through me didn’t feel like this was one of their usual pranks, though.

But with my brothers, you never know.

“I swear to Christ, Rafeale,” I called out, naming the baby in my family and the one voted most likely to do something asinine, “if this is some dumbass attempt to scare me, I’m gonna make you suffer.”

I crept along the hallway, passed my father’s office and my own. Both doors were open, the rooms empty.

Now that I was closer to the front of the store, the smell was stronger, more pervasive and…ripe.

If you’ve ever left a piece of meat or pork out all day trying to defrost it, and forgotten about it until too late, you’ll recognize the odor.

“Vinny? Vito? Are you guys here?” I called out again, naming my twin brothers. Silence came back at me.

The overhead lights in the front of the store weren’t on so I couldn’t see much inside the deli-proper. A tiny bit of illumination filtered in through the storefront window, enough to make out the shapes of the little tables and metal chairs that lined the front windows. A few years ago my mother had the idea to install these tables so people could come in on a lunch hour, order, and then sit down for a few minutes to eat instead of taking it away with them. It turned out to be a good idea, too, because once we added them, lunch hour business doubled by the end of the first month. It was the one and only time my father had ever listened to one of my mother’s business ideas.

She never let him forget it, either.

When I’d left yesterday afternoon, the tables and chairs were all straight and set into their little spaces surrounding the front window. When he closed the store, my father would upend the chairs onto the tables so he could sweep and then mop the floor.

I sidled up to the back of the glass display cases and looked right, then left. Nothing was amiss, but that itchy feeling hadn’t left me yet. I slid my free hand along the wall, found the switch and threw the place into total light, something I never did at this time of the morning. If anyone passing on the street saw the lights, they’d think we were open for business, which we weren’t, not for another two hours.

In retrospect, I should have left them off and never have come into the store once I found the back door unlocked and standing open.

Hindsight, as my Nonna Constanza used to say, is for sciocchi—fools— who think too much after the fact.

She wasn’t wrong when she was alive, and she wasn’t now, either.

The seating section looked as if a bomb had exploded. Tables and chairs were scattered every which-way, some turned over, others pushed up to the wall, a few of them lying on their sides. Glass salt and pepper shakers were smashed, their contents sprinkled across the tiled floor in a dust cloud of seasonings, the glass embedded within the debris. The breadbaskets I was due to fill were in a tangled heap on the floor, alongside broken bottles and jars of stock items that had slipped from the wall shelves.

If it wasn’t an explosive device that had caused this mess, than at the very least some kind of fight had occurred here during the night.

My eyes darted across the mess. Fury had replaced that tingle of uneasiness as I came around the display cases, calculating how long it was going to take to clean all this up.

I stopped short in front of the mozzarella display I’d rearranged yesterday, when I discovered the reason for the sickening smell: a wet pool of what I knew instinctively was blood, splattered across a two foot by two foot area. It looked like an obscene Rorschach blob.

It was at this point I knew my annoying brothers weren’t attempting to play a sick joke on me and something else entirely was going on here.

I pulled my cell phone from my shield/purse, fingered in the 911 code and then walked back down the hallway, heading toward the back door I’d come into less than five minutes earlier.

After speaking with the dispatcher, who assured me she was sending a unit to the store immediately and a caution to touch nothing, I went back out to the parking lot and called my father.

***

“Madonna Maria, why didn’t you call me when you first saw the door was open?” my father asked, twenty minutes later. His thick white hair stood all on end and the right side of his face was a web of sheet marks, indicating I’d woken him and all he’d done was thrown clothes on to get here as fast as he could. Half of one shirt-tail was tucked into his suspendered pants, the other, hanging free. He had two different sneakers on his feet, another indication he’d flown the coop fast. As he stood behind the deli counter with me, our two uniformed neighborhood beat cops examined the blood splotch.

“What if somebody was hidin’ in here, little girl? You could’a been hurt. Or worse.”

My father, unlike my mother, tends to keep a tight hold over his emotions and reactions. Perpetually calm and unendingly rational, even when plagued with five obnoxious sons who invented the term rambunctious, Luigi Leonardo San Valentino was the endless calm in a sea of family bedlam. Since my mother had no sway over the behavior of her ragazzi—the boys, especially—she tended to either ignore everything or get so pazzo—crazy—that nine times out of ten any situation, even the most innocuous and miniscule, could escalate to the equivalent of Mount Vesuvius erupting.

So when my father called me by my full given name instead of Donna, like he had every day of my life, and then little girl, I knew he was genuinely distressed. The sight of the six foot three, two hundred and forty pound bear of a man whose DNA I shared, with his forehead creased like Venetian blinds and the corners of his lips pulled down into two concerned commas, made me want to ease his mind any way I could.

“Daddy.” I wrapped my arms around his barrel chest and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’m okay. There was no one lurking in here, waiting to do God knows what. I got out as soon as I called the cops.”

My father rubbed a beefy hand down my back. Whatever he’d been about to say was stopped when one of the beat cops called his name and asked to speak with him, privately.

“We can use my office,” he told them.

“Can we get that cleaned up?” I asked, pointing to the stain. The smell was even worse that when I’d found it. “We’re due to open in an hour.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be opening for business today, Donna,” Angelo Racconova, one of the cops told me. Angelo and I had gone to school at St. Rita Armada’s Academy. He was three years younger than me and had been best friends with my brother, Vito, ever since they were both in second grade. To say he grew up in my house wouldn’t be a lie.

“Why not? Can’t you just,” I swiped my hand in the air, “mop that up and go file a report or something?”

“Sorry, no.” His tone implied there was no arguing with him. “We don’t know where the blood came from. We gotta leave it there for the forensics guys to deal with. Don’t touch it, or nothing else, okay?”

“Well, when can we open, then? We’ve got a business to run here, Ang. Customers who depend on us.”

“I can’t tell ya, that, Donna. Not today, maybe not even tomorrow.” He turned away from me. “Mr. S?”
My father slid me a side-glance, then nodded to the two cops.“Donna, call the crew. Tell them we’re closed today and we’ll be in touch later on. ‘Kay?”

Fuming, I nodded.

He led them into his office and before shutting the door behind them added, “And call your Uncles. Tell ‘em to get over here.”

He didn’t need to tell me which uncles.

I did as asked, first making sure the closed sign was obvious on the front door and then going into my own office. I notified our staff we were taking an unexpected day off and told them the store had been broken into. I omitted telling them about the blood I’d found. There was only one employee I couldn’t reach,  one of our delivery guys. I had to leave a voice message for him, figuring he was already on his way.

That done, I called my Uncles Sonny and Joey. They aren’t really my uncles, not in the true definition of the word, since they aren’t my father’s or my mother’s brothers. They were daddy’s cousins, boys he’d been raised with and who he’d grown side by side into men with and were still close with to this day. My mother, Gracie, has an older sister named Francesca, my Aunt Frankie, who’s married to  Joey. So that makes him my Uncle Joey. In reality, he’s my second cousin—I think—but in the ways of Italian tradition and culture, anyone senior in a close family is called aunt or uncle out of respect.

Yeah, it’s a little weird. But…famiglia, you know?

Both of my uncles assured me they were on their way.

“Don’t call the cops until we get there and see what’s what,” Uncle Sonny advised.

“Too late. They’re in with daddy right now.”

A long, drama-laced breath filtered through my cell phone. Uncle Sonny’s rep in the family is as “the fixer.” Need a brand new car for way under list price, no credit questions asked, minimal down payment required? Call Uncle Sonny and he’ll hook you up. Want to take the little woman to the hottest Broadway show for your anniversary? The one that’s been sold out for six months straight? Give Sonny a jingle and you’ll have two front row tickets waiting for you at the theater box office. For every family wedding and funeral we were treated to a fleet of no-cost, maxed-out limousines, courtesy of a guy who knew a guy who owed Uncle Sonny a favor. No one in my family ever really knew what the favors being paid back were, and no one asked.

The San Valentino’s originated don’t ask, don’t tell long before the armed forces claimed it.

Sonny’s heavy sigh through the phone spoke volumes.

“Just keep things under wraps as much as you can, Donna, until me and Joey get there, okay?”

“Will do.” I didn’t bother telling him I’d already notified our workers.

Daddy was still sequestered with Angelo and his partner, and I was getting antsy. By now, on a normal business day, I’d already have re-stocked the shelves and display cabinets, gotten the sinks and prep areas ready and put out the coffee urns, milk and cups for our regular morning customers. Since Angelo had ordered me not to touch anything, I couldn’t occupy my time with any of those ordinary tasks. Even though we probably weren’t going to open today, the hope was that we would tomorrow, so I decided to get a jump on the supply ordering. First, I needed to check everything in our walk in storage areas and our industrial refrigerator.

Our supply list seemed to grow larger each time I ordered, something that warmed my mercenary shop-keeper’s heart. More supplies needed meant more things were being sold, which amounted to greater – here’s the mercenary part – profits.

A cold blast of icy air smacked me in the face when I opened the freezer’s heavy door. The usual mounds of deli meats and cheeses, salads, and produce lined the steel shelves from ceiling to floor. I ticked each item and the amount we had off on the clip-boarded list I’d brought in with me. Then, I moved towards the back to see if we needed to order any of the bigger meat items we routinely kept stocked, when I tripped over something sticking out from between two of the metal shelves.

I reached out and braced myself against one of the shelve posts to keep me from falling flat on my face and the clipboard fell from my hand. When I stooped to pick it back up and see what I’d stumbled over, it took me a moment to realize what it was.

A sneaker.

A man’s sneaker. Black and white, it looked…familiar. Like I’d seen it in a magazine or a television ad.

I tracked the shoe from the sole, up across to the laces—which were dirty and knotted and spackled with little droplets like paint—and then all the way up to the tongue.

Then my gaze traveled further. Up a jeans-clad lower leg.

“What the—”

I left the clipboard where it lay on the concrete and moved closer to the leg. I don’t think I realized, truly realized, what I was seeing until I peaked between the two shelves the foot was poking through.

The one worker I hadn’t been able to notify not to come in today, Chico, was laying on his back, his wrists bound and folded in his lap, a frosty mask of ice crystals covering his head and face. A thin knife, the kind my father uses to clean fish with, was perched in the center of his chest, the hilt sticking up. Little frozen red and white balls covered his t-shirt.

I may not scare easily, but the amount of times in my life I’ve encountered a dead—no, make that murdered body—can be counted on the fingers of one hand and still have 5 left over. A loud gasp blew through my cold lips as I sprinted back to the door. I needed to tell the cops what I’d found. Now.

I yanked the industrial door open, shot through it, and barreled, full body, into a solid wall. The wall smelled, strangely, of citrus. I would have bounced back and hit the door if the tangy smelling behemoth hadn’t reached out and, with a grip forged in steel, imprisoned me within hands as large as the ham my mother was planning to serve for Christmas dinner in a few weeks.

Trapped and suddenly terrified—who wouldn’t be after finding a murdered guy?—my body reacted in that instinctual flight or fight way it’s programed to during stress or danger.

My body, as usual, chose fight.

One valuable lesson being the sibling who was routinely charged with breaking up brotherly fights has taught me, is how to get out of a death hold.

In a move I’d learned out of necessity I took a step forward instead of retreating like a person being held routinely would, bent my arms at the elbows, lifted them up and then twisted them inward. The front of my forearms collided with the giant’s forearms and when they did I pressed outward with every ounce of force I had.

The hold broke, as I’d known it would.

Before the giant could draw a breath and grab me again, I lifted my arms, gripped him by the ears and hauled his head down to meet the knee I’d raised.

A loud, guttural groan reverberated around us.

And then several things happened at once.

The orange smelling wall of a man sputtered, “Jesus Christ, Donna,” while he held his nose in his hands.

My father’s furious “Madonna Marie!” lifted to the ceiling at the same time.

And Angelo Roccanova’s “Holy Shit,” competed with both of them. Another besuited man I didn’t know stood behind the three of them, but he kept his mouth closed and just stared at the guy I’d knee-ed

Confused and breathing like I’d just swam the length of the Hudson river twice, my gaze bounced from my wide-eyed and worried father, to a shocked and nervous Ang and then to the bent-at-the-waist colossus in front of me.

My throat bobbed up and down and the moisture in my mouth evaporated when the hulk lifted back to his full height, his piercing and angry gaze mating with mine the entire time. As he’d stood tall I’d been forced to take a step back in order to maintain eye contact. The now closed steel refrigerator door barred me from going any further.

I knew those eyes. Intimately. When they weren’t filled with anger, like they were right now, I knew how captivating they could be. The palest of blue and heavily lashed, they tilted up a tiny bit at the corners. Jealousy ramped through me. How unfair it was that a man was gifted eyes like that when I’d been cursed with the most dull and boring brown color ever blended.

Light hair, a mix of natural honey and wheat husks, straight and clipped short covered his head. Shoulders that spanned almost as wide as the hallway were covered by a dark tan sports jacket, the pants a deeper hue of the same color palette.

“Donna,” Ang said, in a tone filled with fear, “why’d you punch Detective Roma?”

“I didn’t punch…wait? Detective?”

I tried to lick some moisture back into my lips but my salivary glands had gone dormant during the flight or fight response. I glanced at each of the men standing in front me, stopping last on the one Ang had called a detective.

With one hand still covering his nose, the man lifted his gorgeous gaze to mine and just like I had when I’d been seventeen and climbed into the back seat of his brand new Z8, I lost what little sanity I possessed.

“Hey Donna,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Long time, and all. I see you’re still as sweet and mild mannered as ever.”

The next few minutes were a buzz of activity.

Once I snapped my shocked mouth closed at having the man I’d given my virginity to, who was now a card carrying NYC detective, standing in front of me, a lifetime of ingrained Catholic confession made me blurt out, “I didn’t kill him, I swear. He was dead when I found him.”

The four men staring at me stared a little harder.

Before I could be hauled off to jail, an embarrassment my parents would never survive, I told them to follow me back into the freezer. Once they’d all seen who exactly it was I hadn’t murdered, Tony Roma, the virginity taker, ordered everyone out of the freezer.

Intrigued? Guess we’ll have to see where the story goes….

Check out my PINTEREST page where I’m storyboarding the book, MADONNA, MOBSTERS, and MOZZARELLA

Until next time ~Peg

The San Valentino Holiday Books, available at Amazon. // B&N // Apple // Kobo // GooglePlay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under 3 Wishes, A kiss Under the Christmas LIghts, Author, Author Branding, Candy Hearts, Contemporary Romance, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, WIld Rose Press AUthor

Why #IndependentBookstores are so near and dear to my heart….

I’ve talked a lot on this blog about how much I love the Independent bookstore I have in my town, THE TOADSTOOL BOOKSHOP.

The managers are so welcoming and supportive of local authors and arrange booksignings, author meet and greets, and fun events for the entire community, in addition to stocking local indie author books ( something the big name book retailers do not!)

This year, when I heard about Independent Bookstore Romance Day,  on August 17, 2019, I called The Toadstool in Keene and asked if they were doing anything to celebrate the event. At the time, they weren’t, mainly because they didn’t know,  but once I informed them about the celebratory day, the managers went into hyperdrive to plan something to commemorate the day. I shunted some of my favorite local romance authors their way, and before I could say #iloveromance, an event was up and running.

See? This is why I love the TOADSTOOL so much!

So, come join me and four other fabulous romance writers on Saturday, August 17, 2019 at 4pm at the Toadstool Bookshop in Keene!

You can checkout the authors who’ll be featured at the event on their Amazon profile pages, here:

Angie Moran

Cheri Allen

Clair Brett

Amber Cross

Peggy Jaeger

I really hope I see a bunch of romance readers I know – and even more I haven’t met yet! – at the event. The Toadstool will be selling our books during and after the panel discussion, so click on the links above to see the books available. All of my print books are currently on sale at the Toadstool, but for the e-print only ones, you can find them here: 3 Wishes, Hope’s Dream, A Holiday PromiseFalling for You, and Be My Hero

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Filed under 3 Wishes, Author, Author Branding, author promotion, Candy Hearts, Contemporary Romance, Deerbourne Inn, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, The Wild Rose Press, Writing

#1stKissFriday

One of my favorite first kisses came from my Candy Heart Romance 3 Wishes

Matt and Chloe are virtually strangers, but the attraction between them is so bright  they light up the night sky! They only kiss twoce in the entire book, but the first one is a doozy. Keep reading and see if you agree.

…he was looking at me as if I were the only girl in the world.

I can’t remember who moved first. All I do recall is when his arms came around my waist and he pulled me against his chest—solid as a rock wall—I felt his breath heat my cheeks while his lips trailed a string of kisses down my jaw, finally—finally—ending at my mouth. It felt so completely right to be standing there that way, with him.

I’d been correct when I thought his mouth was made for kissing. It was. Smooth as marble and warm as Mediterranean sunshine, his mouth took possession of mine in a kiss so all-consuming and powerful I wondered how I was able to stand.

And then I realized I wasn’t. He’d lifted me up and I’d wound my legs around his waist, his strong arms and hands supporting my butt. He turned us, and I bumped straight back against the shop door with him holding me, his mouth doing wicked and utterly sinful things to my own. My hands fisted in his hair, which, as promised, felt as plush and luxuriant as it looked.

I couldn’t believe I was standing—well, being held up, really—in my shop with what amounted to a total stranger, practically having sex against my door.

This wasn’t the Angelina Chloe Gabriella San Valentino anyone knew.

Even I didn’t recognize myself.

His hips ground against me while he tightened his hold. The next thing I knew, my butt was lowered. I’d gone from being plastered against the door to sitting on top of the profiteroles glass display cabinet. He pulled back and cupped my chin with the palms of his hands.

“Chloe.” His breath danced across my lips when he said my name, his mouth a mere whisper from mine. I breathed him in, my heart pounding against my chest, my lungs filling with him, with his essence. One blue eye, one green, gazed at me, their colors heated with desire and something much more. Something I never thought I’d see reflected back at me from any man: pure, raw desire mixed with such a well of emotion it blindsided me.

Is it possible to fall in love in an instant? I don’t really know. But if it is, then this was it for me. Don’t ask me why or how, but I knew straight down to my core Dr. M. D’Amore was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t even know his first name, but I actually envisioned what our children would look like. Tall and lithe like their father, not short with a tendency to chubbiness like me. They’d either have blue eyes or green, but not both like their parents, and they’d all be cherub-faced bambini, complete with Botticelli curls in their hair and smiling, winking dimples on their faces.

He kissed me again, slow and unhurried, taking his time and driving me insane. He cupped my cheeks, his thumbs drawing small, nerve-tingling circles down my jaw, as his tongue mated with mine. Call it crazy, but I felt as if I’d always known his kiss, known it as surely as I knew my own name. The familiarity of his deep, sensual taste bounded through my brain, and I realized no candy I’d made had ever tasted as good as he did.

My legs tightened around his waist, my ankles crossing at his back. He slipped his hands from my face, down my torso and settled my butt in his palms, sliding me closer, closer to him, until I knew he could feel how wet I was through our clothes.

Just as the thought occurred to me of what would happen if I slipped my hand down between our bodies to grab him through his jeans, my store phone blared, shattering the silence. It was attached to my apartment landline so I’d be able to hear it wherever I was in the building.

Coming from a long line of drama-afflicted Italians, I knew no phone call after midnight ever brought good news with it.

With what I can only describe as sheer torture, I yanked my lips from his, pushed against his hard chest, and shimmied off the table, out of his arms. His brows pulled in tight toward the center of his forehead, confusion shooting across his eyes.

Intrigued? Here’s where you can get your own ecopy: 

Amazon // Nook // Kobo // itunes // google play // Walmart

Valentine’s Day is chocolatier Chloe San Valentino’s favorite day of the year. Not only is it the busiest day in her candy shop, Caramelle de Chloe, but it’s also her birthday. Chloe’s got a birthday wish list for the perfect man she pulls out every year: he’d fall in love with her in a heartbeat, he’d be someone who cares about people, and he’d have one blue eye and one green eye, just like her. So far, Chloe’s fantasy man hasn’t materialized, despite the matchmaking efforts of her big, close-knit Italian family. But this year for her big 3-0 birthday, she just might get her three wishes.

Also available in audio book.

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Filed under 3 Wishes, Candy Hearts

You gotta be in it to Win it!

I know I made a New Year’s resolution to blog only 3-4 times per week because last year it got to be waaaaaay too much to do it more often. Well, I’ve already broken that resolution. Last week I blogged 7 times. There’s a pattern here somewhere and I’m gonna figure out why I am so compelled to do this, but that’s a blog for another day.

The reason I’m blogging today is because I have a number of things going on right now in the Romance reading universe and I wanted to let you all know about them at the same time to save myself a hours of Hootsuiting. I don’t think that’s a verb, but whatever. You all know marketing isn’t my strongest point in this publishing arena.

Right now, I’m participating in 3 Rafflecopter giveaways for the month of February. The prizes vary in each from a Kindle fire to free romance books and book bundles, so you’ll want to click on each link below to see what’s being given away. And you should enter each of them. The prizes are fab and in all honesty you gotta be in it to win it!
In no particular order, here are the links:

NN Lights Love and Romance Book Festival : Link to enter 

The grand opening of the new ROMANCE GEMS blog: Link to enter

Author Constance Bretes Love Forever Romance Ebook giveaway : Link to enter.

And….. don’t forget that 3 WISHES ebook is on sale for 99cents until Feb. 15. Links to buy

 

and last but not least, 3 WISHES is also a BARGAIN BOOKSY deal today!

 

I need a nap! ~ Peg

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Filed under 3 Wishes, Candy Hearts, Contemporary Romance, Cooking, Foodie, love, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, The Wild Rose Press

#SundaySnippet 2.3.19

My very first San Valentino romance was part of the Candy Hearts Romance series for Wild Rose Press. This is the book that introduced those crazy San Valentinos to the reading world and is a personal favorite of mine!

Valentine’s Day is chocolatier Chloe San Valentino’s favorite day of the year. Not only is it the busiest day in her candy shop, Caramelle de Chloe, but it’s also her birthday. 

Chloe’s got a birthday wish list for the perfect man she pulls out every year: he’d fall in love with her in a heartbeat, he’d be someone who cares about people, and he’d have one blue eye and one green eye, just like her. 

So far, Chloe’s fantasy man hasn’t materialized, despite the matchmaking efforts of her big, close-knit Italian family. But this year for her big 30th birthday, she just might get her three wishes.

As he moved closer to the table, something deep and primal swirled inside me. He smelled like heaven laced with sin. Spicy, subtle, and with a hint of musk. Whether it was cologne, body soap, or just plain man, he smelled good enough to eat.

And Dio mio, I was starving.

He lifted one of the boxes and read the contents card attached to it. Various nuts coated with caramel and encased in milk chocolate; truffles, their centers filled with the thick, gooey delicacy; even a few bonbons with caramel swirled around the outside in haphazard patterns of pure deliciousness.

He pulled his gaze to mine, a wide, heart-stopping smile on his face. For the first time I got a good look at his eyes, and almost fell to the floor when I did. Like me, he had one blue eye and one green. They were mirror opposites of mine, though, the blue on my right side, his left. My mouth fell open, and I realized I must have looked like an idiot, so I shut it fast enough to make my teeth shudder together, and swallowed.

Hard.

Heterochromia Iridis,” he said. The heat in his gaze shot an arrow laced with lust straight to my girlie parts.

“Excuse me?” It surprised me I could get that much out of my mouth; I was so overcome by his hotness.

His lips pulled into a sheepish grin. “You have one blue eye and one green,” he said. He tapped the outer corner of one of his own eyes. “Same as me. It’s called Heterochromia Iridis.”

“Good to know.” Dio mio, this was the best I could do? Lame, thy name is Chloe.

I cleared my throat and tried for professional shopkeeper again. “You can try a candy,” I said, “to see if it’s the taste you’re looking for.”

“Really?” His smile turned into a boyish grin, showing all white perfect teeth and deepening the utterly irresistible and kissable cleft. “I live for free samples.”

I couldn’t help myself; I grinned back at him.

“The bane of a shop owner’s existence,” I said. I lifted out a walnut-encased dark chocolate morsel with a caramel-filled center. “Freebies.” I held it out to him and almost fainted when he dipped his head and, instead of taking the candy in his hand, let me drop it into his mouth. For a nanosecond I felt his hot breath slide across my skin as my hand came close to his lips. The tips of my fingers actually felt as if they’d been singed.

He pulled back once he had the candy, sucked it into his mouth, and devoured it.

My mind stopped functioning when I saw his Adam’s apple bobble as the morsel slipped down the back of his throat.

He rolled his eyes and licked his fabulous lips. “Amazing.”

My ego shot up a few degrees.

“She’ll love it. The baby’s been driving her crazy. This is exactly what she needs.”

And then it fell back to earth again.

Intrigued? Here’s where you can read more – and just FYI, 3 WISHES is on sale for 99cents until February 15, so get your copy today!!

Buy Links:

Amazon // Wild Rose Press //  B&n  //i-books //

also available in audio

Audible // i-tunes

and you can find me here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

and here’s the link to my TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DAMN BOOK podcast interview, just in case you missed it: TMAYDB

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#99centBooksale just in time for #ValentinesDay2019

My very first San Valentino story, 3 Wishes, is on sale from now until Feb. 15 – just in time for Valentines’s Day! Why not give the one you love a gift that’ll last long after the flowers have drooped and withered and the candy is a memory now settled on your loved one’s hips?!

A book can be enjoyed over and over and a RomCom ( like 3 Wishes) always brings a smile to anyone’s face.

Plus, it’s a romantic love story,  so YAY – perfect for the one day of the year everyone devotes to love!
The ecopy is  available at  these venues for just 99cents right now, so get shopping!

Amazon // Wild Rose Press //  Nook //i-books //

And if the person you’re looking for a gift for is an audiobook lover, well, I’ve got you covered because 3 WISHES is also available in audio here: Audible // i-tunes

WIN! WIN!

(Heehee) ~Peg

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Filed under 3 Wishes, Candy Hearts, Food lover, Foodie, love, Romance, Romance Books, The Wild Rose Press, WIld Rose Press AUthor

#1stLineFriday 2.1.19

“I’m culling,” my mother said. With a snap of her wrist she sent another two-hundred-dollar silk shirt into a black plastic trash bag situated next to her bed.

3 Wishes ( A Candy Heart Romance) 

Valentine’s Day is chocolatier Chloe San Valentino’s favorite day of the year. Not only is it the busiest day in her candy shop, Caramelle de Chloe, but it’s also her birthday. Chloe’s got a birthday wish list for the perfect man she pulls out every year: he’d fall in love with her in a heartbeat, he’d be someone who cares about people, and he’d have one blue eye and one green eye, just like her. So far, Chloe’s fantasy man hasn’t materialized, despite the matchmaking efforts of her big, close-knit Italian family. But this year for her big 3-0 birthday, she just might get her three wishes.

Buy links:

Amazon // Wild Rose Press // Kobo // B&n // Walmart // Google play //i-books // Books-a-million

also available in audio

Audible // i-tunes

and you can find me here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

and here’s the link to my TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DAMN BOOK podcast interview, just in case you missed it: TMAYDB

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Filed under 3 Wishes, audiobooks, Author, author promotion, Candy Hearts, Contemporary Romance, Foodie, Romance, Strong Women, WIld Rose Press AUthor

#CyberMonday, #romanceBooks, and #shoppingfromHome

It’s amazing how nowadays we have labels, tags, and names for everything, including the days we shop for holiday presents! This is the world we live in, peeps. Accept it and move on.

So, CYBER MONDAY. The day where the people in the know state the majority of on-line sales for the holidays are completed. And, like any good little writing entrepreneur, I’m blogging about the day!! Or more specifically, how to order my books on-line.

I’ve become quite the little marketing/ad designer these days. Thank you, Jesus for Canva!! Hee hee.

Anyhoo. You probably already know you can order my books from most of the on-line book retailers out there. With the exception of the anthologies I am part of and the two books that were digital only, all my other books are available in print or e-reader copy, so you can buy them for yourself or gift them to the romance reader on your shopping list this year.

 

I’m still a big believer in the brick and mortar store way of shopping, but since my books are classified as Digital first/POD ( Print on Demand) the only place they are available is in my home town in my local independent bookstore, so if you live in, say,  Kalamazoo,  Kentucky, or Kensington Palace, it just makes sense to order them on-line.

So, do a sistah a solid and put a little romance under your own tree – or the romance reader in your life’s tree – this year!

And don’t forget – several of my titles are now available on AUDIO from AUDIBLE, so if your romance reader is really a romance listener, you’ve got options for gifts. Love that!!

And, as always, #blessyou!

on-line retailers that carry my books: the Wild Rose Press//Amazon //Barnes and Noble//Kobo//I-tunes(Apple)//GooglePlay//Books-a-Million// BookGorilla//AUDIBLE

Brick and Mortar store that carries my print copy books: THE TOADSTOOL BOOKSHOP in Keene, NH

 

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Welcome to #Walmart

In this never ending quagmire of publishing, I discovered today that my ebooks are all available at WALMART.Com

So, if you shop Walmart on line and are looking for some bargains on my books, here you go. These titles are currently available.

Skater’s Waltz 

There’s No Place like Home

First Impressions 

The VOices of Angels

Passion’s Palette

A Kiss Under the Christmas Lights

3 Wishes

Cooking with Kandy

A Shot at love

CAn’t Stand the Heat

SO, in addition to Amazon, WRP, Nook, Kobo, Apple and Google +, I’m really just everywhere these days! hahaha

FInd me here, too:Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

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Filed under Author, Author Branding, author promotion, Candy Hearts, Family Saga, First Impressions, Food lover, Foodie, Friends, Hope's Dream, Kensington Publishers, love, Lyrical Author, MacQuire Women, Romance, Romance Books, Skater's Waltz, Strong Women, The Laine Women, The Voices of Angels, The Wild Rose Press, There's No Place Like Home, WIld Rose Press AUthor, Writing

Post Writing Conference High…

 

SO I’m back home after spending a few days in Burlington, MA at the NECRW 2018 Let Your imagination take Flight writers conference. Tired doesn’t begin to describe me today. My bones are weary!

This year, I made a concerted effort to put my little introverted self out there and meet new writers. Those of you who know me, probably think I’m having some kind of stroke by referring to myself as introverted. But I am, truly. Even though I’ll talk to a rock, I still get ridiculously nervous and feel I’m being judged by people I’ve just met.

But that’s my hangup, so….

Lots of fun and informative times at the conference.

First and foremost, met the amazeballs and national writing treasure Beverly Jenkins. She gave a master class on setting and world building that was so spot on, it’s no wonder she’s the fabulous writer she is. Every writer – whether of the romance genre, or truly, an other genre, could learn something from this brilliant woman that would elevate their writing to heights never thought of before. I have 6 pages of handwritten, excited notes from her class and can’t wait to start putting them into practice.

From the phenomenal and tech-brilliant Nam Patel I seriously increased my knowledge base of keywords, SEO’s and how to navigate through google. Nam is the kind of brilliant person who is able to break down complex knowledge principles to an understandable language for tach-no-savvy’s like me!!

I’d never heard the term Fan-Fiction before until I took a class with literary agent Courtney Miller Callahan on the subject. Boy, did I get an eyeopener!

Of course there were other workshops I attended, but these three ladies were by far the best and brightest of the bunch!

Now, I’m off to start building a better world and setting for my characters, then I have to update my internet accounts, and finally, I may just take a quick trek through a few fan fiction pages to get an idea of what this whole subgenre is really about. I can smell a potential story line here for a couple of people who need an HEA in their lives!

Of course when I’m not writing you can find me here;

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// Book Me

 

and one last shameless plug: Check out my new AUDIOBOOK version of 3 WISHES, available now at Audible // Itunes // and Amazon.

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