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…
In one month, on Valentine’s Day, 3 WISHES re-releases and I thought I’d give you a little taste of this romcom, mistaken identity and medical-themed romance today.
Did I mention I’m a chocolatier? My shop is called Caramelle di Chloe, roughly translated as Chloe’s Candy. In addition to my retail business, I cater all sorts of events from bachelorette parties, complete with naughty, anatomically correct chocolates, baby showers, anniversaries, and even weddings. I’ve been written up twice in national newspaper reviews and my business is a solid, financially successful one. Recently I’d begun to dream of expanding.
“Dio mio, Chloe. This is insane.” My sister’s beautiful blue eyes rolled back in her head as she licked her lips and savored the candy-cookie. “This is gonna be a major seller.”
I smiled, pleased. I’d thought so, too, but it was nice hearing it from someone else.
“So, are you going to tell Daddy about his clothes?” she asked, reaching for another sample.
“Not in this lifetime.” The chocolate was perfect, so I turned off the stovetop flame and dumped the gooey confection onto the marble countertop. I had to get ready for Valentine’s Day, a mere week away. While I smoothed the warm caramel from one end of the marble to the other and began rolling it between my gloved fingers into bite-sized nibbles of deliciousness, I told Snoop, whose real name is Gia, about the box mom had left for me.
“She gave me one, too.” Gia licked her fingers. “It was filled with stuff I don’t even remember owning.”
I mentioned the diaries and the candy sweethearts in mine.
“Those are still your favorite.” Gia grinned. “You work with the most delicious ingredient on the planet and you still love those little candies best.”
“I know.” Every year I featured candy hearts in some of my Valentine’s Day offerings. I’d decorate cakes and cupcakes with them, fill bags tied with pink or red ribbons with them, add them to lollipop sticks, anything I could think of.
…So a romance about a chocolatier on Valentine’s Day. Sound good? Lol
You can preorder it here, and it will be in KU for 90 days after release day, then I’m going wide with it.
So, since THE VOICES OF ANGELS re-released yesterday, I figured I’d give you a little teaser into the story if you haven’t already read it.
Mike stared up at the house, liking the white clapboard Vic- torian design, and the solid, sturdy way it stared right back down at him as if saying, I’ve been here longer than you and seen things in life of which you can only dream.
Secure. Able to withstand whatever was thrown at it. A house rooted in strength, built on stability, roofed with resilience and balance.
Much like the woman he found himself thinking of non-stop.
After Carly left the gallery the night before, he’d wanted to run after her and explain about Cassandra. The timing and the situation, though, prevented him. Cassandra was capable of causing an emotional display, which would have ruined Serena MacQuire’s event. Mike had witnessed numerous of her public tantrums during their few months together and was loathe to be embroiled in another one.
No, speaking privately with Carly was the better option all around.
Every time Carly’s hurt and confused face came to mind, Mike swore, fingers itching to hit something. What must she think, making his desire so blatant for her, while Cas- sandra gave everyone the impression they were still lovers? What woman wouldn’t be upset and angry if she believed the man pursuing her was involved with another? Of course, she wouldn’t answer his call. Why should she? To her eyes, his intentions must appear suspect and despicable.
He wished Cassandra had never shown up at the opening. She possessed an amazing ability to be where she could do the most damage, almost as if she’d planned it.
He took a deep breath, tried to put it out of his head, and concentrated on the reason he was standing outside this magnificent home.
Using the antique brass knocker in the shape of a pineapple on the door, he announced himself. Serena’s face broke into a wicked grin when she answered.
“I knew you’d come.”
The tension left him immediately. His smile was as fast and filled with good-natured humor as hers. “Yeah, I imagine you did.”
The final little teaser od 2024 is from my very last DICKENS HOLIDAY ROMANCE, A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS, to get your holiday celebration underway…
Amy overheard what she said, though, and commanded, “Come here, girl, and let me give you something to warm you up.” She tugged on Portia’s arm and guided her to the booth.
“Our hot chocolate is a town favorite at this event. Made with real milk and shaved chocolate, not that powder junk they sell at the supermarket.”
Tony had just turned from handing the customers waiting for their burgers their order when his gaze connected with hers across the booth.
Portia’s breath caught when he lifted an eyebrow and bobbed his head, once, toward her.
She tried for a smile but her teeth were clattering so much she worried it looked more like a grimace than a greeting. And not all of that clattering could be attributed to the frigid air. Most of it, if she was being honest, was because of the man standing in the center of the booth.
“Here, Portia.” Amy handed her a Styrofoam cup of steaming dark liquid. “This’ll get you warm on the inside for sure.”
She had no real memory of taking the cup because her attention was zeroed in on Anton – Tony -and watching him prepare another order. No wasted movements, every flip of his hands precise and intended for the sole purpose of preparing the food.
Why the heck was that so…so… arousing?
Good grief! I’m getting hot and bothered from watching a man flip cheese onto a slab of meat. What. The. Heck??
Without thinking about what she was doing, she lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip of the piping hot liquid, and let it roll over her tastebuds. When the eruption of heat and sweet, rich chocolate exploded in her mouth, she moaned.
Loud.
Loud enough that everyone in the vicinity heard her, including the man her eyes were trained on.
While Amy and Abra laughed, the rest of her family chiming in with their own chuckles, Tony’s head lifted, brows tugging together, hands motionless as he stared over at her, worry slicing across the downturn of his mouth.
Portia stopped breathing. She couldn’t look away from him, as if hypnotized not to. She didn’t think she’d want to if compelled by forces unseen to do so.
“You okay, over there?” he asked, the rasp in his voice deep and filled with concern.
Her head bobbed, spastically, up and down. “F-Fine. This is just,” she held the cup up, “really good. And really hot.”
Amy grinned from ear to ear. “Best in the whole state. Who wants a cup?” she asked her family.
While she poured several cups and handed them out, Portia tried to get a hold of herself, all the while Tony sneaking surreptitious glances her way while he cooked.
With the rest of the group now armed with their own drinks, Colton began leading the march up to the Common again, after first kissing his mother-in-law on the cheek and thanking her.
“What’s going on with you?” Abra said, sidling next to her on the walk.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re jumpy, something I’ve never seen you be before. You’re usually the calm in any storm, the one who keeps her head when all around her are nervous or angsty. But today you’re acting like something is bothering you. Or someone,” she added, her brows lifting with the meaning.
“I told you, Abracadabra. I’m cold. I’m not used to these temps and my nerves are flayed because of it”
“Most people don’t usually get nervous because they’re cold,” her friend shot back.
“Yeah, well I’m not most people, as you well know.” She tried to instill some haughtiness into her tone.
A quick side eye toward her friend and she could tell Abra was in hyperalert mode. She suspected something was up with her agent. That determined eye glare and squint Abra was known for was full-on across her face.
Luckily, Amelia began fussing, diverting Abra’s attention.
Portia took a jagged breath in.
Saved.
For the moment, at least. If there was one thing she knew without a doubt, Abra would get back to the questions she had.
Portia needed a distraction for when that happened.
So this one is from my next HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER book that is releasing on 4.7.25…
Blurb:
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.
He couldn’t have heard her correctly.
Date? The two of them? Like as in date-date? That made no sense.
She was his matchmaker. The person he’d hired to find him a wife, not be a- potential – one.
Before he could say anything, she added, “Not for real, I mean. That would be unethical and I’m certain would get me kicked out of the Matchmaker’s club.”
His brow creased. “There’s a Matchmaker’s club?”
Flipping a hand carelessly in the air, she rose, saying, “Professional ethics,” as if that explained anything. “I think we should go on a fake date or two.”
Hunter shook his head, still trying to get around the fact she wanted them to date.
Fake date? Just what the hell was that?
“Now,” she crossed to her desk and lifted her table, tapped it a few times, then brought it back to the couch, reading. “When you filled out the intake questionnaire for me you indicated you enjoyed winter sports, which is good since you live here and winter’s nine months of the year in a good year.” She grinned across to him. “But you also stated you’re open to trying new things as long as they don’t involve potentially hazardous outcomes.” She lifted her gaze again. “Give me a for instance.”
He blinked a few times. Was she seriously just leaving him hanging with no explanation about the two of them dating statement?
“What do you mean, fake date?”
Liv pulled her bottom lip under her top teeth, her gaze dropping down to her tablet for a moment before rising again and connecting with his. “It wouldn’t be a real date, not in the true sense of the word and the outcome. It would be more an educational experience, from a professional perspective. We’ll pretend to be on a date and you act like you would on a real one.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why, Olivia. Why would we go on a date, fake or real, for educational purposes, which, by the way, I can’t even imagine the meaning of?”
Her smile bloomed quick and bright for a moment he lost his train of thought.
“I see. Well, what I mean about educational purposes is that doing this will allow me to see and evaluate how you interact when you’re on a real date. Understand?”
He cocked his head. “Why do you need to…evaluate me? You said I wasn’t the problem.”
She took a breath and he wondered if she was trying to measure her words so they’d be diplomatic.
Who was he kidding? Of course she was.
PERFECT MATCH Liv and Hunter, Book 3 in Heaven’s Matchmaker is up for preorder right now, right here
My story, MY MATCHMAKER PUPPY, is part of this collection, so here’s a taste of it.
Saturday morning after our first week arrived sunny and cold. I was just about to take Juliette for a walk when my phone blared. Ben’s number ran across the screen.
“I’m going nuts,” he said as a greeting. “Are you free for an emergency consult?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Dart’s not listening to anything I’m telling him this morning. He won’t go out, follow any commands and he’s been howling since I woke up. I’ve tried everything. Chicken, diversion. Praise. Nothing is working. I’m just about at my wit’s end and it’s not even ten o’clock.”
I told him to meet me at my office, asap.
To say he looked stressed when I let them both through the front door was an understatement.
“Thank you so much for seeing us.” Ben handed the leash to my outstretched hand.
The dog stared up at me, his gaze enraptured and focused on my face. He shot a quick side eye to Ben, then settled back on me. I gave him a sit command and he plopped down on his butt, his gaze never wavering. I pulled a small piece of chicken from my training fanny pack and gave it to him as a reward.
“That’s the first time he’s listened all morning.” The strain in Ben’s voice was unmistakable. “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong. I’ve done everything, including what you just did, to no avail. It’s like he’ll only listen to you.”
To put that theory to a test I handed Ben a treat and then asked him to give the dog a command.
Dart complied after first zeroing in on my face.
“Well, geez,” Ben said. “I swear, he didn’t do that before. Why did he decide to, now?”
I had no idea, but dogs, like humans, could be fickle, temperamental, and just plain ornery at times.
“Let’s experiment,” I said, “I was just about to take Juliette for her morning walk when you called. Join us and we can see if he gives you any more problems.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We bundled back up against the cold of the day and then set off to the nearby park. D’Artagnan was 50 shades of happy dog when he realized Juliette was going to walk with him.
“Again, I’m sorry to have bothered you on a Saturday,” Ben said as we rounded onto the street, our dogs walking in perfect harmony despite the difference in their sizes. “I’m sure you have a million things to do.”
I felt a little pathetic telling him I had nothing pressing except for monthly business reports and payroll to occupy my weekend.
“I didn’t take you away from anything…or anyone…important, did I? Breakfast with a…friend? Or something?” he asked.
From the slightly nervous warble in his voice to the way he kept sneaking glances at me I wondered at the meaning behind the questions. It was almost as if he was asking because he was…interested.
In me.
Get your copy today, kids! It’s a great collection of romances!
So, by now, you know A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS finally released yesterday! I’ve been pretty obnoxious about it, posting continually, but that’s because I just love the story so much.
I’d like to share the motivation behind writing this story because it wasn’t the normal “let me just get two people together” mindset I usually have when I pen a new story.
For some time, I’ve wanted to write a post-Covid story.
There were so many losses during those horrible two years, losses of loved ones, careers, lifestyles, everyday freedoms, that I felt now we’ve had enough time since lockdown ended, and we could go on with our lives again, that a story about losing someone to the horrible disease wouldn’t be so raw.
I may have been wrong about that, because when I was writing this, I had to stop several times to cry and grieve along with the characters.
Suffice it to say, I was afraid I’d written a real downer of a holiday tale.
But the saying great stories are made in the editing process is true for a reason. To balance the sadness, I added humor and happy events. Humor that you’ve all come to expect from Amy Charles, her family, and the people of Dorrit’s Diner and Dickens.
And so, because trigger warnings are something many readers want put forth first and foremost now, here are the ones for this tale:
~ loss of a spouse/grief
~depression
~isolation
~aimlessness.
And here are the happy triggers:
~new babies
~new love affairs
~finding your center
~learning to love again
~friendship
And the happiest trigger of all: The residents of Dickens and Dorrit’s Diner.
Enjoy, my dear friends. And wherever you find yourself this holiday season, remember: Love is always in season in Dickens.
If you know, you know…that today’s tease is going to be about (what else??!! LOL) my upcoming Dickens release A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS.
But….maybe not.
Today I’d like to tease the other books in the series – the one’s I’ve written – just in case you haven’t read them yet or been exposed to the Dickens universe.
All my stories center around Dorrit’s Diner and Amy Charles’ adopted kids.
The first book in my part of the series, ANGELS KISSES AND HOLIDAY WISHES, introduced Amy as a secondary walk-on, walk-off character. I loved her so much that I wanted to write an entire series about her.
Then, FIXING CHRISTMAS details Amy’s first daughter, ABRACADABRA CHARLES, life. She’s back in Dickens and living in a house that is literally falling down around her ears. Enter hunky ex-military town Mr. Fixit, Colton Bree. Shenanigans and love ensues.
In SASHA’S SECRET SANTA, Amy’s middle child, SASHA CHARLES, an emergency room nurse, comes home to Dickens after a life-altering event. She leaves the nursing profession behind her and wants to start anew. Enter Steve Caldwell, the new administrator for Dickens Memorial Hospital. He wants Sasha on his staff.
And after getting to know her, his life.
DON’T MESS WITH THE MISTLETOE details the life of Amy’s “baby”, six-foot-four Michael Charles, a pilot. He’s back in Dickens for a rest from his hectic life and gets wrangled into working at his Mom’s diner for a bit while she takes a rest. Waitress Julia Maryland and her six-year-old daughter Blake don’t fit into Michael’s version of a carefree, globe-trotting life. But, he’s beginning to wonder if his wanderlust has burned itself out…and if being a homebody is what will bring him happiness. Of course, is Julia is added into the mix, then…
ANd then there’s this year’s book, A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS, which I have been promoting, ad nauseum, for weeks.
With less than a month until the release of A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS, I’m ramping up the attempts to get to my goal of 1000 preorders before release day, 11.11.24.
So, here’s a little something from Portia’s point of view:
“Why do you all have such a penchant for walking around in freezing cold weather?” Portia asked as she huddled under her scarf, tugging it up over her mouth. “This has to be the coldest day since I got here.”
Colt, Abra’s husband, laughed. While he readjusted three-year-old Stevie on his shoulders, ensuring his little girl was safe and secure, he said, “If you think this is cold, Portia, wait another month. January and February are hibernation months in these parts.”
“I’ll be long gone by then, back to perpetually sunny skies and temperatures above freeze-your-you-know-what-off every day,” she responded.
Abra, who had baby Amelia in a carrier attached to her torso, laughed. Most of Amy’s family, including daughter Sasha, her husband, Steve, and their daughter Mikaela, along with Abra, Colt, their two kids, and Amy’s husband Andy, who was holding Blake’s hand while her mother and father were home with the newborn baby, all ambled down the wide Main Street of Dickens, making their way to the town Common where the annual tree lighting ceremony was due to start in a few minutes.
The town turned out en masse for the yearly event, the crowds shoulder to shoulder as they strolled along the sidewalks and in the streets, which had been cordoned off to traffic for the day. The shops along the main drag were filled with holiday shoppers and tourists alike, all providing a huge influx of cash into the town’s coffers.
The local eateries erected food booths along the streets, Dorrit’s Diner included, and sold everything warm and toasty for the cold day from hot chocolate to fried dough and roasted chestnuts.
As the group made their way closer to Amy’s booth, Portia spied a certain hunky chef cooking something on the portable burner inside the booth. Unlike her, he was without a coat, garbed in a long-sleeved sweatshirt and jeans with a logoed apron covering him and fingerless gloves on his hands. A black skullcap hid his salt and pepper curls. The closer they came, Portia was able to discern he was cooking hamburgers, a portable hot dog steamer next to the grill. The familiar and taste-bud watering aroma of the steamed franks made her lick her lips when it drifted over the cold air to her senses.
It had been a few days since their impromptu after-hours talk in Amy’s kitchen. Portia purposefully avoided the diner when Abra suggested they stop for a cup of coffee or a quick lunch because she didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable should he know she was there.
For some reason, she wanted him to trust her, trust she wouldn’t reveal his secret. That didn’t negate the desire she had to find out what he’d been doing for the past two years, but she would keep his identity a secret, that was assured.
As a unit, they stopped when Amy called out to them, “Family! Come here.”
She came around the booth door opening and pulled first Blake into a hug, then kissed Stevie, Mikaela and Amelia in that order, before she lifted her cheek to her husband’s kiss. While Amy interacted with her family, Portia took the free moment to observe Tony while he filled orders.
Focused and determined were two words she thought described him perfectly. Eyes trained on the grill and the burgers he was cooking, a spatula in one hand, the other fisted on his hip while he waited until the perfect moment to flip the meat. His gaze was trained on the grill, nothing around him robbing his attention. Not the noise from the hoards moving about the street, not the pounding beat of the high school band playing at the Common, not even the squeals and shouts of kids running up and down the main drag.
For a hot second Portia wondered if he had the same concentration and dedication when he made love.
Startling, her lashes blinking through a rapid-fire series of tattoos at the uncommon thought, Portia felt her cheeks scorch.
“What’s wrong?” Abra asked from next to her.
“What?” Portia shook her head and turned it to her friend. “What?”
Abra’s brows inched together under the small expanse of skin Portia could see from beneath the woman’s woolen hat. “You gasped. What happened?”
“N-nothing.” She shook her head, digging for something she could say. If Portia was a determined woman, Abra cornered the market. The woman was an amazing researcher in addition to being an award-winning horror writer, and would talk a subject to death if allowed to. Portia knew her friend would question and pester her, ad infinitum.
Predictably, the writer’s eyes narrowed as she stared up at her agent. “You don’t usually gasp at nothing.” Abra looked over her shoulder in one direction and then the other. “Did something happen? Did you see something? Or someone?”
Wanting to nip the interrogation before it spiraled out of control, Portia reached out and laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Abra. I’m fine. Nothing is wrong. I’m just…cold.”
The writer didn’t look convinced. Not for a moment.
Amy overheard what she said though, and commanded, “Come here, girl and let me give you something to warm you up.” She tugged on Portia’s arm and guided her to the booth.
“Our hot chocolate is a town favorite at this event. Made with real milk and shaved chocolate, not that powder junk they sell at the supermarket.”
Tony had just turned from handing the customers waiting for their burgers their order when his gaze connected with hers across the booth.
Portia’s breath caught when he lifted an eyebrow and bobbed his head, once, toward her.
She tried for a smile but her teeth were clattering so much she worried it looked more like a grimace than a greeting. And not all of that clattering could be attributed to the frigid air. Most of it, if she was being honest, was because of the man standing in the center of the booth.
“Here, Portia.” Amy handed her a Styrofoam cup of steaming dark liquid. “This’ll get you warm on the inside for sure.”
She had no real memory of taking the cup because her attention was zeroed in on Anton – Tony -and watching him prepare another order. No wasted movements, every flip of his hands precise and intended for the sole purpose of preparing the food.
Why the heck was that so…so… arousing?
Good grief! I’m getting hot and bothered from watching a man flip cheese onto a slab of meat. What. The. Heck??
And don’t forget all the other DORRIT’S DINER DICKENS HOLIDAY ROMANCE STORIES….
Peggy Jaeger, Author 