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#Author C.B. Clark talks about her newest book SECRET BETRAYAL

I’ve said this before, but I love when one of my Wild Rose Press sistahs comes to visit, and I doubly love it when they’ve got a new book to promote! Today, romantic suspense sistah, C.B. Clark is here, talking about her newest release, SECRET BETRAYAL. The subject matter in the book sent her on a research expedition before she sat down and wrote this fast-paced, timely tale and she agreed to tell me a little about her process.

Here’s C.B…..

Authors research the most bizarre topics in preparation for writing their books. In the past, I’ve investigated unique ways to poison someone, how to distinguish human bones from animal bones, how to fly an airplane under the radar, and a dozen other topics guaranteed to raise eyebrows. For my newest novel, Secret Betrayalwhere the heroine is a victim of stalking, I researched incidents of this crime, talked to victims, and met with community support groups.

I was shocked to discover that 1 in 6 American women will be stalked in their lifetime. Victims often receive unwanted phone calls, emails, texts and lavish gifts. The terror of knowing someone is watching you and monitoring everything you do is overwhelming. No wonder these women suffer serious physical, social, and psychological effects. Most stalking occurs between people who know each other, but one-quarter of victims are harassed by strangers. Fortunately anti-stalking legislation is in place in most states, and the authorities are taking this crime seriously. If caught, stalkers face serious jail time.

Head college librarian, Marissa Reynolds has spent years distancing herself from her crime king pin uncle and his criminal empire. When she awakens in an unfamiliar hotel room with blood on her hands and no memory of how she got there, the past returns with a vengeance, and her life spirals into a nightmare. 

Straight-laced, Assistant district Attorney, Scott Bannister has spent a lifetime seeking justice for the senseless gangland shooting deaths of his parents. When he realizes Marissa is the niece of his prime suspect, he crosses a line guaranteed to put in jeopardy both his life and his beloved career. 

He’s made it clear he’ll do anything to destroy her uncle. She fears he’s using her to achieve his goal. As the body count mounts, and their lives are threatened, they must put aside their distrust and work together to find the devious killer. Will they be able to forgive and find true love?

 Excerpt: 

She pushed to her hands and knees. The pounding in her brain mushroomed into a full-blown, jackhammer assault. With a moan, she sank onto her bottom and grabbed her head in a fruitless effort to keep her brain from exploding. Despite the pain, she needed to get up. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Faint wisps of light seeped through the edges of the window curtains. The distant sound of traffic echoed through the glass. A lamp imbued the room with a soft, rosy glow, revealing a king-size bed. The cover on the bed was a glossy, garish pink, the pillows covered in the same lurid color, the edges trimmed with frilly, black lace.

She rubbed the back of her neck and closed her eyes, but when she opened them again she was still in the unfamiliar room. A battered desk faced the bed, a large, flat screen television on top. The flickering images of a naked, full-breasted woman being entertained by two equally naked men played across the screen.

A wingback chair, covered in black leatherette sat in the far corner where a door was ajar revealing the cracked linoleum floor of a bathroom and the edge of a chipped porcelain sink. A framed diagram of a fire escape route was posted on the back of the other door. A hotel room? She dug her fingers into her temples. Why couldn’t she remember?

You can get your copy of Secret Betrayals here:

Amazon // iTunes // Nook // Kobo // Google Books //

A little about C.B. Clark: 

Award-winning author C.B. Clark has written five romantic suspense novels published by The Wild Rose Press. She has worked as an archaeologist and an educator. She enjoys hiking, canoeing, and snowshoeing with her husband and dog near her home in the wilderness of central British Columbia.

You can connect with C.B here:

instagram // Blog // Twitter //Facebook // Goodreads // Amazon 

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I have no voice…literally and metaphorically

Since last week I’ve been aphonic. For those of you who didn’t go to nursing school like me, that means, I have no voice. Allergy season is in full force here in New England and the pollen, rain, mold, moss ratios are uber-high, so when that happens and my allergies go “Yippie!” the polyps I have on my vocal cords swell, resulting in a very quiet Jaeger household. Hubby is pretty decent at reading lips, but I’ve become a real hermit this past week because leaving the house without a voice is difficult if you need to interact with people vocally. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve been aphonic. Several years ago my ENT doc put me on voice rest for 2 months because the polyps were gigantor and he wanted to give them a rest. Have you got any idea what it’s like for a girl who loves to talk not to be able to?? Torture is too tame a word.

Anyhoo….

This past week, and like with every event in my life, I started thinking about how I could use this aphonia, or some aspect of it, in my writing.

How would you help a person who can’t speak, communicate?

What tools would you give them ( if any) in order for them to go about their lives?

Would a character like this be sympathetic? ( In reality, I’m not a sympathetic character, so this one stumps me.)

What kind of love interest would be willing to become involved with someone who can never SAY Iove you?

This is where the show, don’t tell part of writing would be strong, because I would need the character to continually be in movement, trying to get their point across, because they couldn’t say what they wanted to say.

Can you see how difficult, challenging, and thought provoking an aphonic character would be to write?
Kinda like my life right now: difficult, challenging and thought provoking.

Oh, and for those people who think they will be helpful and write to me telling me I can have surgery or laser removal of my  polyps, know this: it isn’t a possibility for me. I would lose my vocal chords completely due to the size and scope of the polyps, so, no. I can tolerate a few days or weeks without a voice.But  the next 40-50 years. yeah, not so much. Thanks, though.

Until next time ~Peg

Oh, and don’t forget:

  1. I’ve got a BOOKSWEEPS contest right now for Romantic Comedies that DEARLY BELOVED is a prize in. Enter here: BOOKSWEEPs
  2. The ROMANCE GEMS are having a June giveaway. Enter here: JUNE 

 

TTFY

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#LongandShortReviews #Wednesdaybloggingchallenge 6.5.19

Today’s topic is BOOKS THAT NEED A SEQUEL and…..I’m lost.

I have a feeling I know the books  most people think need sequels, but I’m not so sure.

The Catcher in the Rye – I’ll be honest – I hate this book. But…I can see people wanting to know what happens to Holden when he ( finally) grows up.

Gone Girl. Want to know if she had the baby? If she was ever sent to prison?

The Handmaid’s Tale. The HULU show makes you believe the story continued after the end of the book. But Atwood hasn’t written a sequel yet and I’m not sure the way the TV show depicts what happens in Gilead is what she’d like to happen.

To Kill A Mockingbird. Want to know if the town changes it’s opinion of Boo based on how he’s treated by Scout and Addicus? Or if the racist attitudes of the town folk change with time and wisdom?

Charlotte’s Web. Want to know what happens to Wilbur and the gang after Charlotte’s “babies” appear?

In all honesty, most books that are standalones are standalones for a reason ( in my humble opinion). I’ve gotten closure on them. We all saw how miserably a sequel fail, esp. if not written by the original author. Anyone remember SCARLET, the supposed sequel to Gone With The Wind? Yeah, I don’t either.

Just sayin’..

Let’s see what books the other authors in this challenge think need sequels: L&SR

Until next time ~Peg

 

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#teasertuesday 5.21.19

So the premise of this Tuesday blog feature was to give you a little insight and previews into books that are coming out, or that I’m writing right now. Today, we’ve got the second category. This is from the second book in my dot com girls series from Limitless. It’s not contracted yet, but hope springs eternal in my house and in my mind! This is the story of Eleanor “Nell” Newbery, a once-upon-a-time heiress, who, through her father’s greed ( think Bernie Madoff) has  tumbled from rich girl to poor. Because of her strong will and business acumen, though, she’s made a success of her moving  and handyman company, Helpful Hunks. Nell’s not a trusting kind of girl – she’s been burned too many times by men who want to date her so they can sell their stories to tabloids. But when she meets Econ professor Charles Churchill at a lecture, for once she decides to toss her distrustful issues aside.

Here’s a little taste – it’s raw so please don’t judge any mistakes yet! This is their first meet, told in Nell’s POV.

A lifetime of innate clumsiness has prevented me from ever wearing anything taller than a tiny kitten heel. A higher heel spelled complications in situations that involved doing anything with my feet and legs in tandem – such as walking. It’s been said by my friends that I can trip standing still. They’re not exaggerating, so today I’d donned a pair of well worn and much loved ballet flats just as a precaution against any movement mishaps. The last thing I wanted to do was fall while I was lecturing. Not in this age of camera phones where my ungainliness could be uploaded and Instagrammed to the world in a matter of seconds.

I should have added walking up stairs to that precaution because three steps away from the second floor landing I slid, stumbled, and slipped. Honesty, who but me could fall up the stairs?

Flailing, my brief case tumbled down behind me and the papers I’d been holding flew around me like confetti in the wind when I dropped them in order to put my arms out and brace myself against face-planting into the marble.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I landed with my palms splayed flat on the stair. The slap of my flesh meeting the hard step reverberated around me, and my forearms trembled with the force of the hit. My left shin slammed against the stair tread, the sharp edge of it connecting right under my rounded kneecap. One of my consignment store-bought Kate Spades slid off and plummeted downward, chasing after my briefcase.

For a moment I stood stone still, shocked at the loudness of my hit in the stairwell and the immediate pain filling my hands and knee.

I said a silent prayer of thanks that no one had been a witness to my fall and then took the prayer back when a voice drifted up from below me.

Good Lord. Are you okay?”

Why do people ask such a stupid question? Obviously, I wasn’t. I’d just fallen flat on my face, my papers were strewn about me as if they’d exploded out of a canon and, because this was me of the lousy luck we were talking about, my laptop was probably damaged beyond repair.

Just as I was about to toss the questioner a snarky retort, I felt a hand wind around one of upper arms and haul me up as if I weighed nothing more than a wisp of air.

My dress had three quarter sleeves but even through the cotton the warmth that oozed from the hand heated my skin as if touching it bare.

“Can you stand?” the voice holding me asked.

While the hand oozed with warmth, the voice flowed in a sultry, sensual tone that shot straight to my insides and heated all the parts of me that had been experiencing an arctic frost of late.

Well, a lot more than of late. More like the past decade.

Deep toned and delicately accented like Prince Harry’s, I’d bet cash-money it was English to the core.

“I think so.” With my free hand on the rail, I righted and gingerly placed my unshod foot flat on the stair tread. My knee ached, but I could tell nothing was broken. I was going to be sore tomorrow, though, for sure. And bruised without a doubt. My fair skin always looks like I’ve been in a ten-round prize fight whenever I bang against something.

I lifted my gaze to tell he-of-the-soulful-voice I was okay and the words stuck in the back of my throat.

Concern wrinkled a high brow and the skin at the corners of his eyes. And, goodness, what eyes. As deep and blue as a ripe blueberry on the vine begging to be picked. I’d never seen that color on an actual human before and it was beyond striking. Thick, blond hair tinged with gray at the temples was cut short along the nape. My gaze slid from his gorgeous eyes down to cheeks carved from alabaster and dusted with a salt and pepper stubble that ran down the length of his jaw. When they flitted to his mouth the air stuck in my throat finally broke free in a gasp that echoed around us. Full and luscious, smooth skinned and deep blush in color, they were the most perfect lips imaginable. For a hot second the ache in my hands and knee disappeared to form a totally different kind of ache in my core.

I blinked, shuddered, and teetered a bit when I recognized the alien sensation swimming within me as awareness.

Sexual awareness.

His beautiful lips tugged down at the corners as he stared at me, worry in those compelling eyes. His hand tightened on my arm.

“Steady,” he said in that silky voice.

“I-I’m okay. Really.” I tired to move out of his hold but he wasn’t having it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thanks. I’m fine. Well,” I rolled my eyes as he continued to peer at me, “I’m a little banged up and embarrassed, but fine. Really. I fall all the time. Everywhere.”

Geez, Eleanor, shut up, my internal snark instructed.

Mr. Sexy didn’t look all that convinced, but he did let go of my arm.

“It’s true. And now I’m embarrassed and late.” I bent to retrieve the notes that had gone helter-skelter when I stumbled. I didn’t relish going back down the steps to get my briefcase, but I was saved from having to when he did the honors.

I slung the strap over my shoulder after taking it from him. Then he gave me my shoe. I held onto the rail while I slipped it back on.

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Battered and bruised but I’ll live. Thanks again, but I’ve gotta get going.”

“Where are you heading?”

I blinked, wondering why he asked.

“Room 265. It’s supposed to be right up these stairs.”

He gave me a quick head bob. “It is. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Oh, no, really. That’s okay. I can find my way. You’ve done enough. I don’t want to make you late for wherever”—I flapped my free hand in the air—“you need to be.”

Those amazing lips twitched at the corners turning his intriguing face into a whole new level of handsome.

“I happen to be going in the same direction, so no problem.”

He held a hand out to indicate we should move up the remaining stairs.

With my papers bundled in one hand, my shoe back in place and my briefcase, thankfully, not emitting sounds of my laptop jiggling in a thousand pieces, I held onto the rail with the other and walked – slowly and cautiously – up the remaining steps while he kept an eye on my progress.

My chaperone, because that’s what he was at this point, kept his stride coupled with mine. At the top of the landing he pulled the corridor door open, held it, and nodded for me to precede him.

It was easy to find my scheduled room because outside it on the wall was a scotch-taped notice indicating my name, the course I was teaching, and the time the class started, which, after a quick glance at my watch, was right now.

“This is me,” I said, placing what I hoped was a normal smile on my face and not a grimace. “Thank you again for your help.”

His gaze shot from the paper on the wall to my face. With his head tilted just a bit to the side, the look he gave me was indecipherable. I couldn’t tell if he was silently laughing at the title of my class, me, or if he was wondering if someone who was as clumsy as I was had personal knowledge and experience with shattering ceilings euphemistic or otherwise.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Newbery.” He pronounced my name as if the second e was missing, the b and the r rolling off his tongue together, and not berry the way people usually did. I have to admit, I liked this pronunciation way better. It sounded…classier, somehow. “Have a good class. And you might want to ice that knee later on just as a precaution.”

With that he nodded again, turned, and then walked down the long hallway away from me.

The back of him was as interesting as the front. Broad, straight shoulders encased in a sport’s coat that dropped effortlessly from shoulder to hip; endlessly long legs wrapped in fitted trousers. He held himself in a manner my mother would have approved of: erect, like a solider but graceful, like a dancer. I could actually picture him in both a uniform holding a rifle and a tuxedo holding…me.

Holy crap.

I stayed in my spot until he opened a door at the end of the corridor and then disappeared inside it without ever glancing back at me.

With a shake of my head to clear it of the wacky thoughts, I opened my own classroom door and entered into what I hoped wouldn’t prove to be one of the nine circles of Hell.

So – that’s it for now. Like I said, this is raw – no editing yet, so don’t be judgey( Hee hee).

If you’re looking for me when I’m not writing new stuff, here’s where I’ll be:Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

and please don’t forget I’m participating in the BOOKSWEEPS Sweet and Mild Contemporary Romance Contest until May 29. Enter Here for a chance to win great prizes.

Until next time ~ Peg.

 

 

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Food poisoning, a busted wing, and 3 deaths…oh my!

I was out of social media touch this past Tuesday because I had a horrible case of food poisoning. Don’t know what I ate, but I’m allergic to sososo many food items to begin with it could have been anything! I try to avoid the stuff I know I’m allergic to, so I don’t think it was something I ate by mistake, more that it was something I ate that was contaminated.

That thought alone sends shivers down my spine!

Thankfully, I’ve got a concierge doctor on call 24 hrs a day ( I call him Hubman!) and he was able to treat the rampant and complete dehydration I suffered from this bug/allergy/poisoning, take your pick. Within 24 hours I was back to my normal ( if you can call me normal) state.

So, while I was writhing in agony from diarrhea and simultaneous vomiting ( TMI?) I also got the MRI results from last weeks’ test. Torn rotator cuff.

Yeah, I know. When it rains, it friggin’ floods.

I go back to the doc next week for an eval and to see what we’re – and by that I mean him – is going to do about the tear. Surgery is the top option. Those of you who know what these initials mean will understand how I feel right now: FML

Andddddd beacause bad news always come in threes, the world said goodbye to 3 icons in the entertainment filed the same day I was down for the count.

Tim Conway, Peggy Lipton, Doris Day.

Each of these 3 amazing people made their mark in the world in different ways and each of them will be missed. I adored all of them for varying reasons, and their hordes of fans have all paid perfect homage to them. My favorite remembrance meme of the day, though, was this one:.

RIP Tim, Peggy, Doris. You brought us decades of love, laughter, and entertainment.

~Peg

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A question of Humanity

I promise that this isn’t going to be an enraged rant. (Just wanted to get that out of the way.)

Now.

Many of you who follow me on facebook know this past Saturday I was at my local gym (Initials of which are PF – you figure it out!) and I had an accident. The gym was packed because it was a Saturday morning and folks who don’t get a chance to come during the weekdays were all there. I was walking on the treadmill at a slow pace of 3.0 mph when my foot slipped and I fell backward. Now, like every single other patron of this gym I didn’t have that automatic STOP  link attached to me – the one you clip on your shirt so that if something happens the machine automatically stops. Because of that, when I fell, the machine….didn’t stop. I fell to my knees and reached out for the handrails to try and support myself and pull myself up, but because the machine didn’t stop my body kept on moving backwards and I couldn’t support my weight, so my arms fell from the handrails, wrenching my left arm seriously, and the machine basically spit me out of its back and landed me flat on my stomach.

Yeah, I know… A Peggy-Lucy moment if ever there was one.

But…

There I was on my big belly, flat out in view of the entire gym including the staff at the front desk and there were three people all lined up next to me on their own treadmills. Do you think anyone stopped what they were doing to help me? To ask if I was okay? Heck, to even laugh in embarrassment for me?

Nope. Not one person – nada, niente, zilch- lifted a hand to assist me. They all saw me fall because I made eye contact with them while I was on the ground. But not one person stopped what they were doing to give me aid.

Who does that? Or in this case, doesn’t? Who doesn’t see someone sprawled on the ground, obviously just suffering a fall or accident and doesn’t even ask, much less off to help, if you’re okay?

When did we turn into a society who doesn’t give a flying fart about one another? Seriously, when did this happen?

My husband was on the other side of the gym, hidden from view, so he didn’t even know about the fall until I told him, so he gets a pass because if he’d seen it he would have been Jonny on the spot to help.

Now before you ask, there was a mix of age groups in the gym that day. Some younger than me, some my age, some older. I would have at least expected the older folks, who were raised with manners, to offer some help, but even they didn’t.

I was raised to hold doors open for the people behind me; I was raised to say please and thank you and excuse me when speaking to others; I was raised to offer my seat on subways and busses to pregnant women, elderly people, and anyone with a disability.

I was raised right.

Apparently, people aren’t raised right anymore. What is this world going to turn into in the future if we can’t even ask if someone who’s injured is okay? If we don’t even have it in us to offer sympathy or aid? Just what the heck kind of society are we turning into???

I guess I should be happy no one did the most common thing of all these days and film my fall and the aftermath with their attached-to-their-bodies-at-all-times phone/cameras and then post it to Youtube and every other social media outlet.

So thankful for small favors ( sarcasm inserted.)

Today I have a doctor’s appointment to see if I tore my bicep muscle in my left arm. The past two days have been agony and I can’t lift or move my arm without wanting to pass out from the pain.

I wonder if anyone in the doctor’s office will hold a door open for me?

~peg

 

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#PublicSpeaking #AAUW

I love that quote. Just sayin’.

So, Friday, April 26, I will be part of a talking panel for the Keene Area AAUW – the American Association of University Woman – annual “Evening with Authors.” I’ll be one of three authors talking about all things writing, publishing, marketing. My panel-mates will be Michelle Arnosky Sherburne, a Vermont historian who writes about The Underground Railroad and Thomas Farmen who writes about his dog, Bessie.

Talk about an eclectic panel.

If you are in the area, please consider joining us. The event will be held at the STONE ARCH VILLAGE COMMUNITY ROOM at 835 Court Street in Keene, starting at 6pm. All the authors ( including moi) will be selling and authographing our books at the end of the talk.

The purpose of the author event is to raise funds for the AAUW’s scholarship program. The Keene area branch gives 5 annual local scholarships to Antioch University, River Valley Community College, Keene High school and 2 ( one undergrad, one graduate) to Keene State college. there will be refreshments ( always a plus, in my book!)

If you want to get tickets, or ask a question, you can call 603-876-3913

I hope to see as many of my friends and readers as I can!! I hate public speaking and it’s always easier for me if I see a face I know attached to a body who’s read one of my books! Hee hee. That was a little muddy of  misplaced modifier, but you all get what  I mean.

Be well and hope to see you Friday at 6pm.

~Peg

And here’s a little present. The fabulous Joan Reeves just produced a video trailer for my Deerbourne Inn Novella HOPE’S DREAM. Check it out ( and buy the book if you haven’t! Hee hee)

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On Girlfriends, a weekend away, and how not to take a selfie

I did something I rarely do this weekend: took off for a girls birthday getaway. Busy work schedules, life and geographic dispersement makes it difficult for me to hang out with my girlfriends as much as I’d like to. So this past weekend three of us finally managed to plan an entire two days of away time, just us, to hang, eat, exercise, shop, eat some more, and shop until we dropped.

Did I mention we shopped?
The first warm and sunny weekend of Spring allowed us to visit Newburyport and Portsmouth, NH, two gorgeous New England-y towns, rife with fun, food, tourist sites, and – you guessed it – shops!

From an old fashioned General Store that had more candy than even I could eat (!) to a housewares store that featured some of the best tea towels I’ve ever read:

   

 

Remember the specialty store SPENCERS? I haven’t seen one in a while now, but I found what I think is an upscale Spencers –  lots of funny stuff but not so dirty ( and by dirty I mean sexually explicit!)

When we weren’t eating and shopping we were walking along the beautiful coast line New Hampshire possesses. Yes, we are mostly landlocked, but we do have several miles of gorgeous coastline. And it was during our attempts at getting selfies with the beautiful water and sky horizon that I learned a valuable lesson about taking selfies, namely: I can’t!!

My girlfriend in the middle looks like one of those fashion DON’Ts from the old Glamour magazine back page, but that’s really my hand holding the camera up. This taught me that in future we need a selfie-stick to take pictures when we are looking toward the sun. And what’s with the prune face on me?? I think I was talking but who knows.

These are better, no?

One of my favorite places to shop is a bookstore. Any bookstore, and boy did we find some good ones. Here are a few of my newest Must-reads:

          

    

 

What a relaxing, fun, stress-free getaway! This was truly the theme of the entire two days:

I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have my girlfriends…and I don’t want to ever consider it.

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#L&SR #WednesdayBloggingChallenge 4.10.19

Today’s blog prompt, Characters I never want to meet, was a hard one for me to wrap my head around. I wondered if it meant characters who are already out in the book reading world that are so heinous and unlikable I wouldn’t want to waste a breath on meeting them. Or… if it’s people who haven’t been written yet, just little nuggets of character profiles.

A conundrum to be sure.

I’m gonna go with my first thought that it’s people who are already alive and walking around in the pages of books who I simply want to avoid at all costs.

Hannibal Lecter for example. I mean, would YOU want to meet a cannibal? I’m kinda chubby and I know he’d be thinking LUNCH whenever he looked at me.  Pass.

Jack Torrance is another one who’d I’d rather not shake hands with. He could have an axe behind his back, at the ready to whip it out and go-a-chopping-crazy. No thanks. Pass.

I’m thinking Amy Dunne is a gal I’d rather not meet up for a chat and a cuppa at the local Starbucks for so many reasons, but the biggest one is anyone who has that expressive a resting bitch face is the kind of person you know is planning 50 ways to make your life miserable while she’s chomping at a biscotti. Yeah…BIG PASS!

And does anyone REALLY want to meet Voldemort? I know I don’t. Creep factor aside, there’s that whole moving to dark side thing that’s so unappealing. Pass. Big Pass. Never-gonna-happen-pass.

Maybe the reason I stick to writing romance is because none of my villains are terrifying. Just nasty and petty. I can deal with nasty and petty. Terrifying? Not so much.

Let’s see who some of the other author/bloggers participating in this challenge want to avoid. L&SR

And please don’t avoid me or my characters! We’re nice people. Really. You can find us here:

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

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

and the link to my recent interview on NewHampshirePublicRadio

And I can’t forget the OKRWA 2018 Award video

 

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How cool is this?

OKRWA International Digital  Awards Winner’s trailer 

Check out whose book is the first to be shown on this impressive list!!! hee hee

and if you’re looking for me anyplace else, look here:

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

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

and the link to my recent interview on NewHampshirePublicRadio

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