I’m having a special TUESDAY TEASE today because it’s also a chance to win 1 of 5 Amazon Gift Cards once SABLE releases.
Here are the rules:
And here’s today’s teaser:
“Listen,” he said, “I’m starving and I imagine you are, too, since neither of us got a dinner break last night. Want to go grab something quick before heading home? The diner across the street makes the best waffles this side of the Mississippi.”
When a corner of her mouth lifted a bit, he felt ten feet tall. In the next instant it flattened again.
“I’m actually heading there for a breakfast meeting right now, so, sorry. I can’t.”
When she rolled her eyes, he thought she looked all of sixteen years old again. Since he’d known her when she was that age, a familiar feeling of warmth moved within him.
Sable expelled a tortured groan. There was no other way to describe the sound that rumbled up from the back of her throat and blew past her lips.
“I wish it were a business meeting, but no.” When he cocked his head, she added, “I’m meeting with my cousin, Moira. She has something to”—she lifted her fingers in air quotes—“discuss with me, but I already know what it is and I really wish I had an excuse not to go.”
“Okay, now I’m seriously interested. What’s so horrible she wants to talk about?”
“Me.” Another eye roll.
“What about you?”
“Not me specifically, I guess, but my unmarried, childless state.”
If he wasn’t mistaken there was a hint of bitterness in her tone, topped by a whole lot of embarrassment, solidified when her cheeks turned three different shades of crimson within a millisecond.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I can’t believe I said that out loud. And to you, of all people,” she mumbled.
He’d think about the last part of her sentence later. For now, he said, “Let me take a guess here.”
She opened her eyes and – halleluiah – looked him in the eye.
“She wants to fix you up.”
Eyes closed again, she nodded.
“And you…what? Don’t want to be?”
“Because? You don’t like to be set up? Or you’re already seeing someone?”
He said a silent prayer it wasn’t the latter.
“The whole thing is ridiculously embarrassing, for starters,” she said. “I’m thirty years old and can get my own dates, thank you very much. But you’d think I was either twelve and knew nothing about the world the way my family acts, or pushing fifty and looking at a lonely later life with nothing for companionship but cats and Netflix movies.”
He wanted to laugh but kept the merriment inside him, understanding she was dead serious. She hadn’t said she was seeing someone, though, so that was telling.
Preorder your copy here: SABLE and then follow the rules if you’d like a chance to win one of those 5 Amazon GCs!
I’ve got a brand new-to-me- author and WRP sistah here today for a visit and an interview. I’m so excited to introduce you all to STELLA GRAE. Let’s get to know her a bit and then take a glance at her new WILD ROSE PRESS book JUST CALL ME CONFIDENCE releasing March 22, 2023
Stella…take it away.
Stella –The Writer
1. What drives you to write?
For me, writing has always been cathartic. I write when something bothers me, upsets me, or when I’m trying to process something. So, writing has become almost this extension of my personality. And, I just love creating an alternate reality where I might want to live…for a just little while at least.
2. What genre(s) of Romance do your write, and why?
I write erotic romance, which I had never thought I’d do. When I first began writing, romance writing was at the bottom of the list. Honestly, I was very frustrated with my lack of success in other areas, so I thought, “Why not?” and the words, plot, characters—everything flowed really well. I’m very fascinated with sexuality. I will often look at people and wonder how they are sexually. I know…it’s odd, but for me, erotica is as much about the psychology as the sex.
3. What genre(s) of Romance do you read, and why?
I prefer romance with a dark twist. I have read and enjoyed Pepper Winters writing. I love that the characters are allowed to evolve and triumph out of dark, gritty situations.
4. What’s your writing schedule? Do you write every day?
I do not write every day unless I have a work-in-progress that is pulling me to it. Some weeks that means I may write every day, but usually I devote part of a weekend to writing. Since I teach, I do a lot of writing during the summer and on breaks.
5. Give us a glimpse of the surroundings where you write. Separate room? In the kitchen? At the dining room table?
I have devoted a corner nook in my bedroom as my writing space. The gorgeous old table that my family used when I was a kid is my desk. It’s a little cluttered, but I am essentially an organized person. I love the table because I can see the indentations in the wood that spark a lot of memories. It’s a very comfortable place for me to be mentally as well as physically.
6. Are you the kind of writer who needs total quiet to compose, or are you able to filter out the typical sounds of the day and use your tunnelvision?
I really like quiet. I am bothered by background noise, so I do writing in the early morning or late at night.
7. Do you listen to music while you write, and if so, what kind? If not, why not?
No! I honestly don’t know how people do that. I might be able to do some classical music, but usually silence is best. Now, I can be inspired to write by a song, but that’s it.
8. How did you come up with the plotline/idea for your current WIP?
So, this will be an interesting answer because most authors pull some part of themselves into a work, even if it’s just their own personal fantasies. Just Call Me Confidence and its sequel, which I’m working on right now, were both born of a failed relationship. I was lonely in the relationship, but didn’t want to do anything stupid, so I created characters and situations that were based a little on reality, but twisted them to create the kind of relationship that I actually had wished I had. The relationship fizzled, but the plot sizzled, as they say.
9. Which comes first for you – character or plot? And why?
I’d have to say that the plot comes first, but the character and his or her conflicts will come a close second. I often think about real people and their stories—why something is the way it is, or how it could be—and can flesh out a story pretty quickly. The characters have to be spot on though for a story to click, and that’s why, for me, character development really drives that plot.
10. What 3 words describe you, the writer?
Intelligent, determined, and passionate.
Stella –The Gal
Tell us one unusual thing about yourself – not related to writing! I love to work with my hands, especially on home improvement projects. I’ve tiled a bathroom, put in flooring, installed crown molding. I even have my own saws, levels, and such.
Who was your first love and what age were you? I was young—maybe first grade—and I had a crush on this boy named Greg. I just thought he was wonderful, but he only had eyes for someone else. I can’t remember why I liked him, but I do remember that by middle school I had a mild obsession with Rick Springfield.
If you could relive one day, which one would it be? Think GROUNDHOG DAY, the movie for this one – you’ll have to live it over and over and…. I think I would relive the day that I was with my grandmother, brother, and other family on a train trip to the West. We were going across the Continental Divide and it was just magic—the scenery, the people I loved—I just could live that feeling of majesty over and over. It was very humbling to know, in a moment, how blessed you are.
What’s one thing you love about your significant other? I absolutely love that my significant other gets me and my writing. He isn’t jealous of the time I put in to it and really lifts me up. He’s so encouraging!
If you had to give up one necessary-can’t-live-without-it item, what would it be? Pencil and paper—I’d go crazy if I couldn’t write things down.
What three words describe you, the person? Intelligent, kind, and independent. (Peggy here – loves those descriptions!)
If you could sing a song with Jimmy Fallon, what would it be? “Tide Is High” by Blondie. It’s a fun, feel-good song that Jimmy would like and I love Debbie Harry’s voice—she sings in my range, so I’d sound somewhat decent.
If you could hang out with any literary character from any book penned at any time line, who would it by, why, and what would you do together? There are so many great characters, but I think I’d hang out with Edward from The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. While it’s geared toward kids, that story has one wise bunny! He makes the best of any situation and keeps himself open for love, even if it’s fleeting. I like to hike and cook, so I imagine that Edward and I would do both because he likes that independent, vagabond life. I could make some cowboy beans over a fire, build a little shanty, and we’d philosophize under the stars.
I love the Actor’s Studio show on Bravo, so this is my version of it:
Favorite sound I love nature sounds—birds singing, leaves blowing in the wind, little animals scurrying. It’s so peaceful and humbling.
Least favorite sound Loud talkers. I cannot stand loud talkers.
Best song ever written Well, I’m going to pick something suggestive because I write erotica, right? So, a song that’s always in my line up is “Physical” by that late, great Olivia Newton John. I fell in love with the Xanadu soundtrack and “Physical” is just a perfect combination of seductive lyrics and music.
Worst song ever written I’d say I’ve always disliked the Carpenters—“Rainy Day and Mondays.” Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me.
Favorite actor and actress George Clooney is my favorite actor; he’s always very natural, and easy on the eyes. My favorite actress is Kate Winslet. I loved her in Revolutionary Road. She seems very genuine, and I love that she embraces her age—bravo!
Who would you want to be for 1 day and why? ( It can be anyone living or dead) I think I’d like to be Queen Elizabeth. Can you imagine the secrets she took to her grave and the things she’s seen? I could take that information and write some great stories. Plus, a castle, a carriage, corgis, and servants—yes, please!
What turns you on? A great vocabulary and a kind heart.
What turns you off? A person who is narrow minded and unkind or rude.
Give me the worst 5 words ever heard on a first date ( here’s mine: “Is that your real hair?”) You have a stripper’s body.
What’s your version of a perfect day? My perfect day begins with a snowy morning in a cabin, freshly brewed coffee, and a day completely dedicated to writing. I’d see some sun later for a quick hike, then a nice fire—and more writing!
And now, here’s a little about Stella’s book:
Jenna Craig is a 40-year-old freshly-minted “hot momma” looking for a little love in her post-divorce life. After a night out with her cougar tribe, she wonders whether she’s still got “it”—the double-takes from the college clowns at the bar quickly put her doubts to rest. Though she may be alone, she knows she’ll never be lonely.
Jenna’s newfound confidence is buoyed by some swim club eye candy: Travis the lifeguard. Hot trysts in the locker room leave her wondering if she might want something more. When her naughty, new boy toy introduces her to his friend, Collin, Jenna is engulfed with waves of emotion that she thought she might never feel again. With two younger men vying for her heart, will she choose the perfect guy for right now, or the man who could give her another shot at love?
The experienced Ms. Craig is certain of one thing: She better bring the confidence to pull off the choice of her desire.
“I’m glad we’re friends, and that you think nothing of racing to my house to help me with my man woes, and my panties. But you know what I appreciate most?”
“You appreciate my sarcastic, brutally honest, down-home wit?”
“No, the fact that you don’t judge me or what I do, or don’t do. You’ve never said you think I’m acting like a whore.”
Fielding hugs me and doesn’t let go. Patting me on my back she responds, “I’ll never stoop to calling you a whore because you’re simply acting like a woman with a man’s morals.”
Stella Grae is an unassuming English professor, copyeditor, and copywriter living in Lexington, Kentucky. She’s the author of the short story “Power Play” that was originally published in the website erotica journal Oysters and Chocolate. In her spare time she enjoys sipping on bourbon, nibbling cheesy grits, and philosophizing about love and sex in her blog, “Bone Up,” which can be found on her website: stellagraeerotica.weebly.com…along with other sexy tidbits. This is her first erotica novel.
She just turned 87 last week and joked many times in the past few years that she never expected to live “this long.”
I always quipped back, “I didn’t either.” The first time I said it she got mad. Every time after that she laughed.
My mother was a severely complicated, emotional, mentally broken woman.
She was also the strongest person I’ve ever known.
She survived the sudden death of her father when she was nine years old, leaving a crater in her heart that never healed. She barreled through the suicide of her oldest sister when life became too much for the woman, and the death of her own mother 29 years ago, a woman who admitted she neither loved nor liked her middle daughter. Just a few months ago she suffered the loss of her youngest sister.
She lived through a World War and three other wars that saw her lose childhood friends, the tale end of a depression, numerous stock market crashes and recoveries.
She survived a mentally abusive first marriage to my father, and the censure of the Catholic Church when they excommunicated her for leaving him. This was prior to Vatican II before things get a bit laxer. Mother Church refused her petition of an annulment and her second marriage was then “tainted” by her strict family who saw it as her basically living in sin with my stepfather, even though they were legally married.
My mother was the most devout woman I’ve ever known. She lived her life with her faith even though the practice of it was denied to her.
She never graduated from High School because she had to drop-out to help support her ailing mother and her younger sister. She never got her GED, either. And despite the lack of education, she had extremely important jobs in her lifetime.
She worked on Wall Street as a stock transfer manager in a time when there weren’t many women in the job. And she made 45 cents to every dollar the men in the same position made.
During the financial crisis of the 1980s she was let go ( women were fired first) and subsequently changed career paths. She cleaned houses for very wealthy people for a while to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. She babysat for several couples who absolutely adored the way she cared for their children. Then, at the age of 54, she became a licensed home health aide. She went into the homes of the people she’d cleaned for, now relegated to sick beds, and cared for them until the died.
During her 87 years, she suffered a miscarriage, two emotional breakdowns that left her anxious and paranoid, two broken hips and the subsequent surgeries to repair them, and broke with her husband’s family when they accused her of a crime she didn’t commit. They, like my grandmother’s family, felt she was living in sin with their brother and wanted her out of the family.
She was a gregarious person – right up until the end – and I can’t remember the number of times I asked her to stop speaking so I could tell her something important.
Today I wish I’d never tried to silence her.
It’s a complicated relationship between a mother and daughter, especially when the daughter has lived through the highs and despairs of the parent. My mother was not what anyone would call a book-smart woman, but she was the wisest person in my life, and no matter how many arguments we had, or tears we shed over fights, she always ALWAYS had my back.
I’ve written that I had to recently place her and my stepfather in a nursing care facility because they just couldn’t care for themselves anymore. This was – at the time – the most painful decision I’d ever made. My, mother, though, in typical fashion, told me to feel no guilt. She and her hubby had warm beds and a safe place to lay their heads down at night, 3 hot meals a day, and people to talk to. Although, I bet she was the one who did most of the talking.
I went to visit them on Thursday right before I went to visit my grandson for the weekend in New Jersey. She was alert, oriented, and chipper because the next day was St. Paddy’s day and they were being served corn beef and cabbage for dinner – her personal favorite. I kissed her goodbye when I left and her typical, “my love to the kids, Larry, and Maple,” rang in my ears.
Friday night she felt queasy in the nursing home, vomited, and then aspirated. She began having chest pain and shortness of breath. They transported her to the hospital where she was diagnosed with aspiration pneumonia. During her admission, they believe she also suffered a heart attack. I was called and updated and told they were going to keep her for a few days to give her IV antibiotics. She was alert, short of breath, but joking with staff – one who told me she was gregarious.
Saturday afternoon I received a call from the hospital doctor telling me they did a repeat chest x-ray and the pneumonia was progressing and they were upping her antibiotics.
Saturday at suppertime I was called again and told her condition had worsened from severe to grave. My daughter convinced me to let my son-in-law drive me back to Vermont since the doctor was fearful she wouldn’t survive the night. My husband went to be with my mother, and I had the nursing home bring my stepfather over. They made it in time to see her take her last breath on this earth.
I did not.
My one consolation is that my mother died surrounded by the man I love most in the world, and the one she did.
She didn’t die alone.
Today I have to do the one thing I have always dreaded: make parting arrangements. The one thing that is getting me through that horrible event is that she was very specific in what she wanted and what she didn’t.
And because I love her so much, I am obeying every wish she has.
It amazes me how, in just 24 hours, a single day, your life as you know it can change forever
As I grieve the loss of the woman who gave me life I am remembering the last time I saw her – barely 3 days ago. Her smile and her positive attitude are what I am carrying with me into the future, along with her absolute faith.
This little gem is up for preorder right now and releases on 5.27.2023, just in time for my birthday. SABLEis book 12 in the ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID series.
Instead of the typical tease for today, I want to show you the book trailer I made the other day when I had an hour to kill waiting for dinner to cook.
Always a bridesmaid… never a bride. It’s the siren song of many a frustrated woman. While they might not be able to compete with 27 Dresses—the hilarious comedy on the subject—each of our heroines has a story to tell about playing second fiddle to the beautiful bride.
Will they ever find their own happily-ever-after? Or, will once again be buying a dress they’ll never wear again?
Welcome to the new multi-author series, Always a Bridesmaid, a fun companion to last year’s wildly successful Last Man Standing series. All books in both series are standalone stories, linked only by subject matter.
ALWAYS BEING A BRIDESMAID IS GETTING OLD…
Pediatrician Sable Miller is sick and tired of being the go-to, dependable bridesmaid in all her family and friends’ weddings. But her demanding job, the ridiculous hours, and endless family commitments keep her from finding the perfect man. A matchmaking service? Sounds like too much work. Swipe right dating? Not her thing. The bar scene? When was the last time she even had an evening free to go to a bar?
And forget about dating the myriad of on-the-make doctors and residents in her hospital. Besides, workplace romances never work out.
Sable’s options to meet the man of her dreams and start a family are dwindling and time is running out, because she promised herself the next wedding she would attend would be her own.
Kristopher Lee, the Physician’s Assistant assigned to Sable has a crush on his new mentor. But she’s got a hands-off rule when it comes to dating someone she works with. Kris is nothing if not persistent, though. After all, he didn’t survive three tours in the Army without focusing on a goal. And making Sable Miller fall in love with him is his best goal yet.
Award-winning authors Lisa Olech, Kathryn Hills, Nancy Fraser, and moihave each written a story about the Crowe’s Nest Tavern, located in the fictional New England town of Last Light Point.
Don’t look at the gibbet… Legend has it that disaster will strike all those who do. The townspeople of Last Light Point have come to respect the centuries-old advice. Those that didn’t, paid the price. 4 stories – 4 time periods – 1 haunted tavern…
The Pirate’s Promise by Lisa A. Olech
Autumn 1728 The Crowe’s Nest Tavern was located in a fortuitous place. If you were condemned to hang in Execution Square, they were your last stop.
Everly Crowe along with her father and two sisters ran The Crowe’s Nest that was rumored to be slightly haunted, although Everly never believed in such foolishness….until she did.
John Beckett was a pirate, or not. Forced upon the account, he’d lost his belief in many things before he caught the eye of a bonny serving lass who was fierce enough to go toe to boot with his captor and captain, Bartholomew Jacques.
Jacques held a note on the tavern and tormented Everly and her family as he terrorized all the small towns up and down the coast. But even his threats couldn’t keep Everly and John from promising themselves to each other, “‘till death do us part.” After Jacques and his crew are captured and sent to the gallows, Everly learns those fateful words have little meaning when love is forever.
Smoke and Mirrors by Kathryn Hills
Autumn 1867 Sometimes when you knock on heaven’s door. . .the dead answer back.
Willow Pinch lives life on a razor’s edge in world of deception and disguise. By day she hides in plain sight as Will, a servant boy. Nights are spent as a table knocker, aiding so-called spiritualists in duping townsfolk into believing loved ones speak from the grave.
That is until the ghosts of Last Light Point unmask her before the only man she’s ever cared for. Dare she trust Morgan Blackwell with her secrets?
Morgan invests every hard-earned penny in The Crowe’s Nest. He doesn’t trust strangers. Yet the last thing he expects are charlatans hell-bent on destroying his reputation with so-called séances. Not to mention there are ghosts in his tavern now! Be damned, must he turn his back on the infuriating woman he longs to protect?
Will the dead of Last Light Point guide Willow and Morgan to lasting love? Or will the dark forces they’ve unleashed lead to ruin?
For the Love of Grace by Nancy Fraser
Fall, 1941 Grace O’Hearn has lived in Last Light Point since long before the ’29 stock market crash took so much from so many. Ten years later, things are looking up. When Grace’s father is murdered, Grace becomes the sole owner of the Crowe’s Nest Tavern–an establishment that dates back centuries, and comes with its own resident ghosts.
FBI agent, Max Stewart, is sent to Last Light Point to investigate racketeering and police corruption. Could it be connected to man’s murder? When he first meets Grace, he’s convinced she’s hiding something. Yet, her keen insight about the town, and everyone in it, may be the best lead he has.
Can they work together to bring down the guilty? Or, will an attraction neither of them wants keep getting in the way?
A Promise Fulfilled by Peggy Jaeger
Late October, Present Day After winning millions in a national lottery, local librarian Daisy Morgan sets out to revitalize the infamous Crowe’s Nest Tavern. After saving the historic inn from the auction block, Daisy begins a major renovation only to discover some hidden secrets – and a few unearthly spirits – tied to the tavern’s history.
Writer Keegan Warren arrives to do a story on the tavern weeks before the grand re-opening. Keegan’s got a few secrets of his own about why he wanted the assignment – secrets that unfold no matter how diligently he tries to keep them hidden. With Daisy’s help, he unearths a centuries-old murder tied to his family’s past.
As they investigate, their mutual attraction grows. But will their budding relationship suffer when the truth is discovered?
From A PROMISE FULFILLED…
The door blew open a moment later, pulling her out of her musings of swashbuckling pirates, bar wenches, and spectral messengers.
The wind whipped the door backward and for the thousandth time, she cursed the fact she hadn’t made Cooper change it to a push open instead of a pull open door. Her obsession with historical accuracy sometimes made things more difficult than they had to be.
A man, backlit by the partly sunny day, stood, holding the door ajar with both hands. She couldn’t make out his features, just the fact he was tall.
With both hands, he yanked the door closed as he stepped inside and shook his head like a dog shucking rainwater from its coat.
“Lord. It’s windy here,” he muttered. Standing inside the doorway now, she had a full view of him. Hair the color of warm chestnuts flirted with the collar of his jacket in a chaos of waves. With a flick of his head, he flung them back from his face as he turned and lit on her.
Daisy didn’t recognize this workman from the too many she’d already met since the renovation project started. One face and name inevitably bled into another as the number of Cooper’s guys grew almost weekly.
But this face? This one she would have remembered.
She wouldn’t have been able to forget it if she tried.
Eyes the color of a savage sea peered across the room at her, the corners tilting upward. The brows over them mimicked the warm deer-tones of his hair. The line of his jaw was sharp and hard as steel forged in fire, the cheekbones slashed across his face, chiseled from marble. All those granite lines and steely angles were a total contradiction to his mouth, though. Full, thick lips made her suddenly think of poets and love sonnets and promises whispered in the dark.
She bobbed her head a few times to clear it of the strange thoughts and moved toward him, hand outstretched. “Yes. Yes, that’s me. Daisy Morgan.”
He took her hand, those storm cloud eyes widening when a spark shot between them.
“Sorry,” she said, tugging her hand back and fisting it into her jacket pocket like a naughty child clutching something it didn’t want to be caught with. “It’s wicked dry in here, still. Old wooden floors and walls, you know? No moisture. The new heating unit’s supposed to have a built-in humidifier, but I don’t know if it’s working or not. Maybe you can tell.”
A babbling brook’s got nothing on you, girl. Get a grip. The guy’s gonna think you’re cuckoo for coco puffs.
His forehead grooved like a Venetian blind as he stared down at her.
“You want me to tell you if your new humidifier is working?” he asked.
“Yeah. Cooper said the system is top of the line, and after doing all the research I agreed, but I don’t want people getting shocked every single moment they’re in here because the air is dry.” She started walking toward the back of the bar to the utility room Coop had set up. “Maybe the moisture valve needs to be turned up higher. Who knows? Come on, I’ll show you where it is. You can look at it before you deal with the switches and see if it’s an easy fix.”
The man followed behind as she walked into what had originally been the tavern’s storage area. Over the decades, needed architectural changes were made to the building, including during the time the place had been a speakeasy in the 1920s.
“An easy fix?”
Jeez, this guy’s like a parrot. Why is it the gorgeous ones are always either a little slow on the upbeat or know-it-alls?
“With the opening in two weeks, I want this place locked down and ready to go way before that. I want nothing to ruin it.”
“Yes, about the opening, that’s why I’m—”
“The schedule was tight to begin with, then with these nuisance things popping up, like the switches, I’m worried we won’t be ready. Did you bring new ones?”
She moved into the room, devised originally as a tiny storage chamber. The modernization of the tavern to 21st-century standards had been one of the most expensive issues when Daisy bought the place. New lighting, plumbing, and some structural updates she’d expected and budgeted for. Having to install a new heating and cooling system with all the necessary state and federal codes to bring it up to date, had added considerably to the cost.
“Here’s the system,” she said, pointing to a behemoth four-foot rectangular unit. She glanced down at his empty hands. “You didn’t bring tools with you?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any tools. If you’d give me—”
She sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a repairman or contractor who doesn’t cart his own toolbox around like a bad habit he can’t break. Oh well, I’m sure Cooper’s got something around here you—”
“Miss Morgan, please. Stop.”
He stretched out a hand to prevent her from leaving the room and Daisy swore she felt her arm singe under the layers of her jacket and sweater. She stood, rooted to the ancient wooden floor as the most delicious warmth she’d ever felt oozed deep, deep into her very core. Like freshly poured champagne bubbles bursting over her lips, her entire body…tingled.
Those storm-colored eyes peered down at her, their brows tugged low, a question blazing across them. His gorgeous mouth pulled into an upside-down U as his fingers pressed into her arm.
“There seems to be some confusion here,” he said, after taking a sizable breath, his attention never wavering from her face. “I’m not—”
“Hey, Daisy? You in here? Oh, good. You are. Cooper sent me over to have a look at the switches.”
They both turned to see a burly, middle-aged man sporting a toolbox in one hand and a to-go coffee cup in the other, looming in the doorway.
This guy she recognized. Brad? Ben? Bill? Something with a B, at least. His gaze ping-ponged from her to the man at her side, then back to her. “Everything okay, Daisy?”
No. No, it definitely wasn’t. If Ben/Brad/Bill was here to work on the switches, then just who the heck had she been speaking to for the past ten minutes?
“Like I told you,” the man said when she glared at him. “There’s been some confusion.”
“Who are you, and why are you in my tavern?” Daisy asked, pulling out of his hold. He let her go then shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Keegan Warren. I’m a writer and I’m here to do a story on the renovation of The Crowe’s Nest Tavern,” he told her, adding, “and you.”
Starting on March 1st, I’ll be highlighting each individual story – one a day! Come back for more entertaining snippets of ghosts and romance!!! Until then, preorder the book here: GHOSTS OF NEW ENGLAND: LAST LIGHT POINT
And add it to your TO BE READ list on Goodreads, here: GHOSTS
I love when my author friends come to visit me. Today, I’ve got multi-published, best-selling author, Liz Flaherty, joining me and she’s telling me all about a re-release of one of her backlist books. She’s updated the story a bit to modernize it just hair and I’m excited to share it with you.
I’ve been married for a long time. I’ve fallen in love over and over during the 51-plus years of our marriage. Always with the same guy and often with a different one who looks like him but…really, did he just say that? We’ve stayed married, never living apart or even doing any bedroom-door-slamming or sleeping on the couch. I’ve never either asked or ordered him to leave and he’s never driven away with any intent of not returning.
It has not always been nearly as easy as that sounds.
In A Soft Place to Fall, Early and Nash were married for a long time, too. She got pregnant while she was still in high school and they got married when she was 16 and he was 18. They both worked nearly all the time and got Nash through medical school and raised four children. Thirty years after they got married, they’re living in a pretty gated community in Lexington, Kentucky, enjoying grandbabies and freedom from debt and…
And maybe not enjoying anything at all. At least, Nash isn’t.
Divorced and in search of herself, Early moves back to the Ridge in rural Kentucky. She takes care of Nash’s father after he has heart surgery, of her mother when she breaks her ankle, and…finally…of herself, too. As she builds a quilt shop named A Soft Place to Fall, she also creates a life for herself.
But then there’s Nash.
A Soft Place to Fall was first released in 2013. Nine years later, with a few changes, it still feels relevant. I hope you find it so, too.
Early McGrath doesn’t want freedom from her thirty-year marriage to Nash, but when it’s forced upon her, she does the only thing she knows to do – she goes home to the Ridge to reinvent herself.
Only what is someone who’s spent her life taking care of other people supposed to do when no one needs her anymore? Even as the threads of her life unravel, she finds new ones – reconnecting with the church of her childhood, building the quilt shop that has been a long-time dream, and forging a new friendship with her former husband.
The definition of freedom changes when it’s combined with faith, and through it all perhaps Early and Nash can find a Soft Place to Fall.
USA Today bestselling author Liz Flaherty started writing in the fourth grade when her Aunt Gladys allowed her to use her portable Royal typewriter. The truth was that her aunt would have let her do anything to get her out of her hair, but the typewriter and the stories it could produce caught on, and Liz never again had a day without a what if… in it.
She and Duane, her husband of at least forever, live in a farmhouse in central Indiana, sharing grown children, spoiled cats, and their grandkids, the Magnificent Seven. (Don’t get her started on them—you’ll be here all day.) To find out more about her, stop by http://lizflaherty.net/ or any of the other places she hangs around by visiting linktr.ee/LizFlaherty