Kids…this is a PRESTIGIOUS award! I’ve had honorable mention twice for the award and was a finalist one other time with other books, so I am really, really stoked about this!!
I’ll let you now if I make it all the way sometime after June 1.
Wish me luck, and if you haven’t readINFLUENCE, now is a good time to! It’s available in print, Kindle, and KU, all through Amazon and from me ( autographed copies) here, from my webstore
Just an fyi- today’s snippet is fromINFLUENCEwhich is currently FREE on kindle until 12.19.2023. Have you read it yet? Now is the time to before the price goes up again on the 20th!
“Excuse me, Mr. Craymore,” I said. “I believe I’m next on your daughter’s next dance card.”
Sterling Craymore’s gaze raked me from head to feet, an assessing glare in his eyes and one, if I’m being truthful, meant to assure me he could cut me off at the knees if he wanted to. If I’m ever lucky enough to be a father I’m going to use that withering glare on all my daughter’s boyfriends.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” she said, removing her arm from the crook of his elbow crook and simultaneously planting a kiss on his cheek. She whispered something in his ear that had the suspicious look dissolving, to be replaced with one of pure paternal love.
I didn’t want to give her a moment to reconsider, so I stepped forward and extended my hand. “Shall we?”
Effortlessly she slid into my arms. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to simply enjoy the feel of her body close to mine. The song was a slow, jazzy ballad perfect for swaying to. Both of us, though, were too practiced as dancers to ever simply sway.
We were silent for a few moments as I glided her across the dance floor, each of us learning and concentrating on the movements of the other.
“You’ve done this before,” Mackenzie said, smiling, as I spun her to the right.
“Never underestimate the benefits of a good dance instructor.”
“Miss Davenport’s?” She asked, naming a school I knew catered to the wealthy.
“No. I took lessons in England as a boy, where I was born.”
“Why don’t you sound like your brother, then? His accent is charming.”
I lifted a brow as I stared down at her. “And mine isn’t?”
The tips of her ears went pink. “I meant,” she said, “When Charlie opens his mouth you know he’s English-born. I don’t hear a hint of anything in your voice.”
“It’s because I grew up in the States. When my parents divorced, my father wanted to come back here after being away from the country for almost a decade. He’d been running his business from England, but with the split, decided to return. Charlie got mom and I got dad in the divorce settlement.”
“That’s sad. But you two kept in touch, right?”
“Of course. He’s family. My older brother.” I grinned down at her. “Of course, he does like to laud the older part over me.” I glided her to the left. “We saw one another on most of my school holidays. The bond between us is strong.”
Her sigh drifted over me, the sound like the high register keys on a piano tinkling.
“It must be nice to have a sibling. I always wanted one, but.” She delicately lifted a shoulder.
“A blessing and a curse is what I tell people having a big brother is like.”
Her smile was like a thunderbolt and knocked me back as if I’d been struck by its force.
“So,” she asked, “how do you know Gideon?”
“I don’t. Not personally. I know of him through Nell. He’s friends with her new stepfather.”
“William McNab.”
“Yeah. When Charlie mentioned they were attending this shindig tonight, I wormed an invite.”
“Why?”
To meet you would have been an answer I’d need to explain, so I told her instead, “The cause is a worthy one and my mother raised us to support worthy causes.”
She nodded. “His clinic is wonderful. He takes in anyone, whether they can afford to pay for the top-notch care they receive, or not. One hundred percent of tonight’s proceeds from the silent auction are earmarked to continue that service.”
“Worthy and noble,” I said.
I glided her around a couple who’d stopped to speak to another pair of dancers.
“So, is this how you spend your free time, Mackenzie Craymore? Attend charity auctions? Hobnob with society movers and shakers? Have lunch with friends?”
“Dance with strange men?” she said back, making me laugh.
“Touche. I didn’t mean to sound snarky. I’d just like to get to know you better.”
That must have touched a cord. Her expression blanked a bit. “I keep busy,” she responded, noncommittally.
“Which tells me absolutely nothing.” I smiled when I said it.
“A woman likes to be a little mysterious,” she said, her lips twitching. “How about you? What do you do all day when you’re not attending charity fundraisers garbed in a five thousand dollar tuxedo?”
My brows shot up.
“I know the brand.” Her cheeks pinked a bit. Of course she did. As a professional social media influence, she must. But she didn’t tell me how she knew it.
Interesting. Her new career wasn’t a secret, not to people who knew who she was, anyway. Why hide it from me?
Since I hadn’t answered her question yet, I decided to go with my version of the truth. “I spend my days attempting to write the great American novel.”
“How’s that going?”
“Not well, lately. But it looks as if things are starting to look up. Right at this minute they are, at least.”
The implication she was the reason wasn’t lost on her. A rosy flush started at the tips of her ears and drifted down to her cheeks and jawline.
The music pulled to a stop. We didn’t. With the silent band surrounding us, we continued to move as if lazy music pushed us on. If anyone thought it odd, I didn’t care.
“How do you feel about lunch?” I asked.
She blinked a few times. “I eat it two, maybe three times a week.”
Again, I couldn’t help but smile at her dry humor. Was there anything more alluring than a beautiful, sexy woman who could make you laugh?
“Care to make one of those two or three times with me?”
I very – VERY – rarely offer any of my books for free, be they reader or print copy.
BUT…
For the next 5 days 12/15-19, my bestselling and newest addition to the NYC Socialites series, INFLUENCE, will be free – yes free! ZERO MONEY – exclusively on Amazon Kindle.
Why am I doing this? It’s the season for giving, after all, and I want everyone to have an opportunity to read one of my favorite books in the series. So, if you like stories about women who had it all, lost it, then got it back on their own and found love along the way, the NYC Socialites are for you. Why not start with INFLUENCE. I mean…it’s FREE!! LOL. What have you got to lose?
If you’re looking for a good read to get you through the last weekend of Summer, INFLUENCE will be 99cents for Labor Day weekend.
Brand influencer, Lizzy Cray, is killing it.
She’s got a list of high profile clients who pay her handsomely to help their products explode on social media. Everything from cameras to cashmere, shoes to smoothies. One picture of her with a product and the money practically prints itself.
Why does this trust fund-baby need to work so hard to rake in the cash? That’s a question journalist Dominick Templeton wants an answer to, because Lizzy Cray used to be known in the gossip pages as socialite and wild-child Mackenzie Craymore.
Mackenzie disappeared from the public’s eye twelve years ago, right after her fiancé, hotel-heir, Lucky Blumenthal, died in a fiery car crash rumored to be fueled by drugs and alcohol. But now she’s back, still hauntingly beautiful, rebranded, and from everything Dominick’s researched about her, a much different person. When she ignores all his attempts at an interview, Dominick tries a different tactic and soon becomes embroiled in a world he never imagined…with a woman he’s rapidly falling for.
So, I’m still hyping my newest NYC Romance INFLUENCE, and decided for today’s Teaser tuesday, to give you another little look between the pages!
Somewhere between waiting for her to arrive and when I spotted her walking into the restaurant, I realized how excited I was to see her again and not simply because I had a story to write. I hadn’t felt this level of anticipation about a woman in a long, long time.
Kissing her like that, without asking permission, or even wondering if she felt the same way I did should have felt like a mistake.
Should have…but didn’t.
And also wasn’t a mystery.
Mackenzie Craymore was, without a doubt, the most intriguing woman I’d ever met. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d been wanting to kiss her since we’d danced.
“I love walking in the park,” she said as we ambled along. We’d joined midday runners, joggers, moms and nannies with baby carriages, rollerbladers, as we walked, hand in hand.
“When we first moved here,” I said, skirting around an elderly woman walking her Schnauzer, “I spent most of my free time here. Biking, or with my skate board tucked in my backpack. I hung out here every afternoon after school.”
“Alone or with friends?”
“Mostly alone. Later on, when we’d been back awhile I started making friends. It was hard, at first, because by the time I arrived on scene the social cliques had already formed. Life long friends who all go to the same schools, same camps, same music lessons, tend to congregate. When you’re an outsider,” I said, “It’s hard to worm your way in.”
She sighed. “Kids can be mean.”
I shook my head. “Not so much mean as insulating. And I didn’t mind being on my own.”
Anything was preferable to the silence that met me at home every day and night.
“Is that when you began writing? During those alone times?”
Surprised, I turned to find her staring up at me with the question on her beautiful face.
“That’s an astute question.”
With a careless shrug she said, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. A lonely kid, living in new place. No friends. There aren’t many scenarios that fit. I don’t picture you as the kid who sat at home and played video games all day long.”
I laughed. “Nope. Not even close.”
She nodded. “So, that leaves potential mayhem and rabblerousing, or something worthwhile to occupy your time. And again, I can’t see you being the kid who stole from the local bodega or did a little pharmacology dealing on the side.”
I speared her with a speaking glance. “I’ll have you know I can cause mayhem and mischief with the best of them.”
Her laugh was so free and easy I couldn’t help the feeling of contentment it bolstered in me. I really wanted to kiss her again, but from the dark recesses of my brain I remembered I had a job to do and no matter who alluring I found this beautiful woman, I needed to do it.
“Enough about me. I want to ask you something, something about your new career.”
Her sigh floated on the gentle breeze around us. “Go ahead.”
“Why do you do it? I mean, no offense, but I don’t think you have to work, do you? Your family wealth is solid.”
It was subtle, and if I hadn’t been looking down at her when I asked, I might have missed it, but the corners of her mouth tightened a bit, her smile loosing some of its luster.
“What’s that old saying?” she asked. “You can never be too thin or too rich?”
I wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. But I knew I had to tread lightly. Otherwise, she’d shut down even more.
“Is that why you do it, then? For the money? Because I don’t see you as the type of person who courts fame and loves the attention.”
She stopped walking and looked up at me through her sunglasses. I wished I could see her eyes, try to discern what was going on behind them.
“Let’s sit.” She tugged me toward an empty bench. The earthy scent of fresh grass invaded my senses and somewhere behind us I heard a power mower working.
Mackenzie dropped my hand, placed hers in her lap as she faced me. Shaded from the tree canopy above us, she finally removed her sunglasses by shoving them up on her head.
She looked about sixteen years old as she pulled a corner of her mouth between her teeth.
“You’re right about my family’s wealth. My great-grandfather set the next five generations up for life, and my father and grandfather have only added to the family coffers.”
I nodded.
She sighed again. “If you Googled me then you probably spotted an article or two about me from…before. From when I was younger.”
Another nod. “Lots of them, in fact.” My lips lifted. “The gossip pages were filled with mentions of your escapades.”
She rolled her eyes. “I did a lot of stupid things when I was a teenager, and then in my twenties, to garner attention. Some I’m not proud of, some I couldn’t care less about. Once something is on the Internet, though, it’s never lost. Or forgotten.”
“Truth.”
“When you’re young you don’t care what people think about you, what they write about you. You feel invincible and that it’s no one’s business but yours what you do, or say. How you conduct your life. It’s when you get more mature that you begin to realize your actions and the opinions of others do make a difference.”
“Again, that’s true. Reputations are lost and gained on one simple act.”
She nodded. “You must know I was engaged.”
“Lucky Blumenthal. Hotel heir and ridiculously wealthy in his own right.”
“His parents built that empire. When he lost them, he personally made it his mission to keep the business growing.”
“He was a bit of a reckless wild child, though.”
“He was, but his brain for business was unparalleled.” She bit down on her cheek again. “You know what…happened?”
I unwound her hands and pulled one into my lap, cocooning it with both of mine. For once I didn’t think words were necessary.
Influencewill be 1 week old tomorrow – I can’t believe she’s so old already, LOL!! In honor of her 1 week birthday, I figured a Sunday Snippet was in order. Here ya go:
The place Nick chose, The Good Pig was one I’d never been to before, situated on the west side of Columbus Avenue between 65th and 66th streets. I wondered at the reason for the odd name.
The moment I came into the place my focus was stolen from checking out the surroundings when I spotted Nick at the bar, his attention zeroed in on the front door. He stood, a drink sitting in front of him, an elbow leaning against the top of the bar, one hand in his trouser pockets.
He looked effortlessly elegant and supernova hot at the same time. Magazine model gorgeous looks combined with raw sexual heat.
What a combo.
I stumbled in my Paredos as I made my way to him.
And I never stumble. Not in six inch stilettoes, kitten heels, or flats.
This guy really got to me.
His smile started in one corner of his mouth and ambled toward the other, his lips parting to reveal his pleasure. His entire face smiled, causing tiny lines to fan across his temples and two twin crevices to pop up on his cheeks.
I couldn’t ever remember any man grinning at me the way he was, not even Lucky. My insides went into a free-fall like when you’re on the downslope of a rollercoaster, and I felt my clutch tremble in my hand.
He met me more than halfway, his hand extended.
“You look lovely,” he said as he slid that hand around my bare upper arm and bussed both my cheeks, European fashion.
My toes tingled in my Paredos.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as he removed his hand from my arm and slid it around to my back, stopping just above my waist as he guided me forward.
“I reserved a table in the back,” he said. “It can get loud in here at lunchtime, but the noise is buffered back there.”
He led me through the packed bar area through a connecting door and into a deceptively large dining room. A white shirted, bow-tied waiter met us and escorted us to a booth along the back wall. Once we’d slipped all the way in, he handed us menus and said he would be right back to take our drink orders.
“You were right,” I said, as I opened my menu simply for something to do with my shaking hands. “It’s much quieter back here.”
Nick ignored his menu, instead, leaning his elbows on the table and threading his fingers together. His gaze took a slow stroll over my face, the smile that sent tingles all the way down my spine focused on me.
“I’m really glad you said yes to lunch,” he told me. “I’ve been looking forward to this since last night.”
Those little tingles increased.
I smiled at him, unsure of what to say, another facet of my personality that isn’t usual. I never have trouble making small talk with anyone. Deportment lessons mixed with social graces were ground into me as a child.
Apparently, with this man, deportment went dormant.
Our waiter returned, took our drink orders – a diet soda for me, water for Nick – and then recited the specials of the day.
“What do you recommend?” I asked him.
His pleased smile told me most people never consulted him. My father and mother raised me to be respectful to everyone we interacted with be it a bus driver, garbage man, or the prince of a neighboring monarchy. I was the type who over-tipped, always said please and thank you, and tried to be gracious and courteous to everyone.
“You can’t beat our Caesar salad,” he said, pen poised above his order book. “Our chef does something to the dressing that makes it stand out in a crowd.”
“Sold. I love a good Caesar. I’ll have it with grilled salmon, please.”
He beamed at me, then took Nick’s order of a turkey club.
“You have that effect on men, you know,” he said once our waiter left us.
“What effect?” I wasn’t being coy. I really didn’t know what he meant.
“When you smile at them and give them your undivided attention they practically melt.”
Pleased and embarrassed, I shrugged. “My mother taught me it’s much easier and nicer to be polite to people than demanding and rude, which many in our position can be and are.”
He nodded. “My mother taught Charlie and me the same thing. You get more flies with a drop of honey, she always says.”
“She’s right.”
He nodded again, then unfolded his hands, slid one across to me and weaved his fingers with mine. The gesture shocked me. So much so, I didn’t pull back or give any indication I wasn’t fully on board with him touching me.
“Did I mention,” he said, one corner of his lips lifting, “how glad I am you took me up on my offer of lunch.”
I laughed. “Once or twice,” I said.
The smile broadened and I swear my ovaries popped to attention.
What. The. Actual. Hell??
The waiter returned with our drinks, and a huge smile for me.
Flattering? Sure. But I was still trying to come to grips with how my female organs were all moving to alert status simply from Nick holding my hand.
Clink on the landing page to enter and check out the other great stories in this promotion and enter for a chance to win a $100.00 Amazon GC! : E2L
Good Luck!!
Brand influencer, Lizzy Cray, is killing it.
She’s got a list of high profile clients who pay her handsomely to help their products explode on social media. Everything from cameras to cashmere, shoes to smoothies. One picture of her with a product and the money practically prints itself.
Why does this trust fund-baby need to work so hard to rake in the cash? That’s a question journalist Dominick Templeton wants an answer to, because Lizzy Cray used to be known in the gossip pages as socialite and wild-child Mackenzie Craymore.
Mackenzie disappeared from the public’s eye twelve years ago, right after her fiancé, hotel-heir, Lucky Blumenthal, died in a fiery car crash rumored to be fueled by drugs and alcohol. But now she’s back, still hauntingly beautiful, rebranded, and from everything Dominick’s researched about her, a much different person. When she ignores all his attempts at an interview, Dominick tries a different tactic and soon becomes embroiled in a world he never imagined…with a woman he’s rapidly falling for.
So today’s TT comes right from yesterday’s release ofINFLUENCE( DUH! LOL) You knew I was gonna hawk this book to the max, right? Heehee
I wrote a quick text to my driver and was about to hit the send button when I heard my name called from behind me. The voice was eerily familiar and the all the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up at attention.
I spun around and – yup, just like I thought – Dominick Templeton was dangerously close to me.
I didn’t even think. I simply bolted like a rambunctious puppy let off a leash.
Weaving around the partiers packed in wall-to-wall, I shoved and pushed my way around people so rudely if my mother had borne witness to my behavior she would have had heart palpitations.
With my phone clutched tightly in one hand, my bag in the other, I had to elbow people to get passed them.
Templeton continued to call my name from behind me as he peppered it with excusemes and out of my ways.
I was almost at the door that swung into the kitchen when a hand snaked around the back of my arm, halting me. I would have pitched forward from the sudden stop if Templeton hadn’t wound his free hand around my waist.
I spun around like a mad dervish and shoved him in the chest. “Get your hands off me,” I shouted. I don’t think anyone but him could even hear me because the noise level was at supersonic now.
I think he said, “Please, Mackenzie, stop. I need to talk to you,” but I wasn’t sure. I’m not adept at reading lips.
He slid his hand around my arm again and despite all my movements to shove him off, was able to propel me through the swing doors.
The decibels, thankfully, dropped, but the long kitchen was jam packed with servers, cooks and sous chefs. No one stopped to stare at us as we all but fell through the doors.
Templeton glanced right and then left and with his hand still holding my arm, guiding me toward a back door.
“Get your hands off me,” I said again, trying to pull away from him with all my strength.
The guy had a grip like a steelworker’s vise.
“I will the moment you agree to talk to me,” he said. He pushed through the door, which found us in the back alley of the club. A smelly dumpster and about a hundred empty boxes surrounded us.
Templeton finally let go of me.
“How dare you,” I spat, pushing against his chest again with all my strength. He didn’t even budge.
“Look, I’m sorry for the Neanderthal tactics, but I knew you weren’t going to come willingly with me—”
“You got that right.”
“—and I really need to speak to you.”
“You have nothing to say I want to hear.” I started walking away from him.
“Mackenzie, please. I know you’re mad—”
“Mad doesn’t even come close to what I feel.”
“Please. Hear me out. Let me explain.”
I spun around. “Why should I? You’ve lied to me already. Everything about you is a lie. What’s to prevent you from doing to so again?”
“I never lied to you.”
“You told me your name was Nick Churchill.”
“No I didn’t, Mackenzie. I never told you my last name. You assumed it was Churchill.”
“With just cause. And you didn’t correct that assumption!”
My voice echoed around the empty space. I couldn’t believe I was standing in a smelly, filthy alleyway, screeching like a banshee at this guy. Forget heart palpitations. My mother would need to be admitted to a coronary care unit if she saw this little scene.
Templeton slid his hands into his trouser pockets, his shoulders dropping down a bit as he folded in on himself. Even in the subdued lighting I could tell his cheeks had darkened. “You’re right, I didn’t correct your assumption. That’s on me, and I regret it. But there’s a good reason I didn’t.”
“Of course there is.” My nasty flag was flying full sail. “You want an interview and just like the sleazy gossip rag reporter you are, you used unscrupulous tactics to get it. Showing up and getting introduced to me by someone I knew. Dancing with me, taking me to lunch. Kissing me.” I gagged on that one. “Making me believe you were a good guy, a guy who—”
I stopped myself in time. I’d been about to embarrass myself fully by admitting how much I liked him and wanted to see him again. How much his simple kiss had wrecked me.
Good God.
I dragged in a breath and dug deep down to my toes for some semblance of my mother’s calm demeanor.
“Well, too bad for you, because you failed.” Better. My voice was decidedly stronger. “Horribly. I wouldn’t talk to you if you were the last person on earth.”
I turned around again and too late realized I faced the wrong way to exit the alley because the brick wall of the opposing building was right in front of me. I had to go in the opposite direction in order to do so, which meant skirting around him.
“It’s not a normal interview,” he said when I began walking past him. “Mackenzie, please. Stop. Please.”
I could tell myself a dozen different reasons why I did later. But the truth was something in his voice, something so raw and so real, made me stop, short.
I’ve never intentionally hurt another person in my life. Not that I knew of, anyway. That’s what I heard in Templeton’s tone – a stab of hurt that sliced through my anger.
Suddenly, all the fight left me. I wanted to go home, fall into bed and forget this day ever happened.
Templeton took a step toward me, his hands out at his sides and lifted as if in surrender.
When I didn’t spring away from him or hit him again, I guess he took it as a sign I was going to listen.
Was I?
I didn’t want to. Nothing he could say would ever allow me to trust him.
“Please,” he said one more time while he lowered his hands. “Give me a few minutes to explain everything. That’s all I’m asking.”
“That’s asking a lot. More than you deserve.”
“Five minutes,” he said.
Why did I agree to hear him out? Damned if I know.
INTRIGUED? let me make this easy – aim and shoot your cell phone camera at the following image and you can get your copy. It’s available in kindle and print, and on KU.
Well, you all knew this day (and blog post) was coming. If you’ve been following me for the past few weeks, I’ve been writing up a storm about my newest New York Socialites book, INFLUENCE.
This story was so much fun to write and research. I had to delve deeply into the influencing sphere and it was eye opening, I have to tell ya. For all the time we as writers have to spend on social media hawking our books, influencers and brand ambassadors have to be on 24/7. That’s exhausting just thinking about. And not everyone can make the kind of money Lizzy Cray makes as an influencer, either. The top tier is small and anyone can be pitched off their perch when a newer, better brand ambassador comes around. Too stressful for me, LOL!
Brand influencer, Lizzy Cray, is killing it.
She’s got a list of high profile clients who pay her handsomely to help their products explode on social media. Everything from cameras to cashmere, shoes to smoothies. One picture of her with a product and the money practically prints itself.
Why does this trust fund-baby need to work so hard to rake in the cash? That’s a question journalist Dominick Templeton wants an answer to, because Lizzy Cray used to be known in the gossip pages as socialite and wild-child Mackenzie Craymore.
Mackenzie disappeared from the public’s eye twelve years ago, right after her fiancé, hotel-heir, Lucky Blumenthal, died in a fiery car crash rumored to be fueled by drugs and alcohol. But now she’s back, still hauntingly beautiful, rebranded, and from everything Dominick’s researched about her, a much different person. When she ignores all his attempts at an interview, Dominick tries a different tactic and soon becomes embroiled in a world he never imagined…with a woman he’s rapidly falling for.
I spotted a lone guy in a tux at one end, leaning an elbow on the counter and facing the room, a tumbler in his hand. I couldn’t make out his face clearly from this distance but he was tall, trim, had a mass of wavy dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.
And he was staring straight at me while he lifted his glass to his lips and drank.
His attention never wavered from me while he sipped. There was something so…erotic about that. For a moment I didn’t think he was looking at me, but maybe lost in thought, you know? Looking toward me but not really seeing me? When his lids dropped down to half-mast and he stopped sipping, he held the glass up in a subtle salute aimed right at me, and one side of his mouth lifted.
Every nerve ending in my spine fired and I shuddered like I’d stepped into an ice-cold bath.
But I wasn’t. Cold, that is. Nope, I was about as far from cold as a person could get on a temperature scale.
Hot didn’t even come close to what my insides were experiencing. If you happened to step into a roaring volcano and come in contact with all that molten lava spewing from it, then maybe – maybe – you’d know how I felt with this guy’s piercing gaze glued to mine.
Mesmerized, I couldn’t pull away from it.
You ever have the notion your life is about to change, something big is about to happen, and you can’t figure out what it is but you’re powerless to alter the course? That’s what it felt like with this guy’s focus zeroed in on me.
Peggy Jaeger, Author 