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Tomorrow I leave for my first book event of 2025 – ROMANCE in CNY taking place in Utica, NY.

Today I need to pack up all my stuff. I’ve got a list ( I’ve always got a list!) of things I need to bring: chargers, SQUARE, books, banner. Stuff like that for the event itself.

Yesterday, I went shopping for clothes because I wanted something new to wear. Having lost almost 70 pounds over the past year, my clothes no longer look decent. I look like I’m wearing another person’s clothing – someone, well, 70 pounds heavier. I went to five stores in my town and found NOTHING for me.

Kids, when did stores stop selling pantyhose? Doesn’t anyone wear them anymore? I’m gonna be 65 next month and have almost 65-year-old legs: creepy, veiny, lily white. I want pantyhose covering them up if I wear a dress. I found a store that carried a very limited supply, and the cost almost shut me down for the day: $10.00 for one pair. Not even control top or anything! Just nude hose. God forbid I get a run, that’s $10.00 down the tube. Back in the day, I wore L’EGGS exclusively. Never ran, always fit, came in a cute little egg container I saved and used as easter decorations. Remember those? Fab hose.

And when did it become fashionable for women to show their nipples and hoo-haas in public?

Everything I found had a collar that dropped down to the middle of my chest ( potential nip-slip territory) or was so short, the bottom edge of my underwear showed. I have trouble showing my bare arms in public, never mind other body parts!!

I was so discouraged. I haven’t been clothing shopping since before COVID, and had no idea fashion had changed so drastically. I’ll mention my age again: at almost 65 I do not want to be dressing 40 years my junior. I want age-appropriate, body-part-covering clothing that looks nice, fits well, and doesn’t cost a mortgage payment. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, the answer is yes.

I came home with a $10.00 pair of pantyhose and soul-crushing defeat in my stance.

Today, I’ll need to try on everything I still own to find something I can jury-rig to fit and look appropriate for the book signing.

The life of a writer is never dull, kids, despite what you’ve heard.

Le sigh.

I was away all Easter weekend visiting with the grandkidlets, so I didn’t post anything to any of my socials, including here. But before I left for the holiday, I received a lovely email from the contest coordinator of the CAROLYN CONTEST, sponsored by THE NORTH TEXAS ROMANCE WRITERS. The email was to inform me that the second book in my HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER series, LOVE MATCH, was a finalist in the contemporary category of the contest in the Low Heat division.

I’m gobsmacked, kids! And so humbled and honored. THE CAROLYN is a prestigious award in the romance writing community, and to be a finalist is just jaw-dropping, and like I said, humbling.

Winners will be announced soon, so I’ll let you know the outcome, but really, just to be a finalist is such an ego boost when Imposter Syndrome rears its ugly head at me! But I will mention, I’ve got some pretty stiff competition:

LOVE MATCH ( HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER, BOOK 2, Layla and Cody.

Running away from a public scandal may be cowardly, but to Layla Warton, it’s her best option.

After her politically connected fiancé is indicted for a laundry list of crimes, Layla wants to put the public ridicule and shame of her guilty-by-association status behind her. Not easy to do when all her supposed friends and supporters lose her number and the taint of scandal-adjacent destroys the successful design business and life she’s built for herself.

Happy childhood memories and the blessing of a local friend push her toward the tiny New England town of Heaven where she spent summers with her loving grandparents. Hiding out in the town until the scandal dies down is the perfect plan.

With the paparazzi hot on her tail, an ancient family home she needs to get livable, and a contractor too hot for her sanity, Layla worries she’ll never be able to get her old life back.

But would that really be such a bad thing?

Well, actually, a re-release.

Today, THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, the 4th book in the MacQuire Women series released into the book reading world. With everything going on – the death of our beloved POPE, Easter, and the collapse of democracy ( just to mention a few things!) I forgot about the release until Amazon sent me a “your book is available today” email.

So…

If you’ve been reading along with the series, THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME is the 4th book in the series and tells the tale of Quentin Stapelton, Veterinarian, and Moira Cleary, concert pianist and their road to an HEA that is so deserving, my heart sings just thinking about it.

Oh, and there are animals galore in this one ( Veterinarian – right??! LOL) and a set of adorable twin puppies.

Symphony pianist Moira Cleary comes home after four years of touring, exhausted, sick, and spiritually broken. Emotional and psychological abuse at the hands of someone she trusted has left her gaunt, anxious, and at a crossroads both professionally and personally and she longs for the peace and love of her family around her.

Moira’s best friend, veterinarian Quentin Stapleton, wants nothing more than to help Moira get back to her old self. Can his natural healing skills make it possible for her to open her heart again?

And can he convince her she’s meant to stay home now with the family that loves her – and with him – forever?

Available in Amazon/print/kindle/KU

Happy reading, Kids!

So recently, I was interviewed by CanvasRebel magazine. Here’s the text. Have a gander…

CanvasRebelInterview

Here’s a little one from March 2019 ( Pre-covid!!!)

Last Friday I exhausted all my books’ first lines, so I thought I’d try something new: #1stkissfriday.

I’m going to take an excerpt of the first kiss from all my characters and each week spotlight one.

Today, of course it has to be the kiss from my first book SKATER’S WALTZ which recently had its 4th book birthday.

When he removed one hand from her arm, she reached up to trace the outline of one of his eyes. Her finger moved from the outer canthus to his cheek, smoothing the skin she touched. “You didn’t have these little lines when you left.”

Cole stared down at her face.

Her finger roamed down to the corners of his mouth, outlining them, then on to the small dent in the middle of his chin. An impish grin fanned across her face. “I remember being little and wondering if I smoothed this line away would I be able to see inside you, like it was a door or some kind of opening to your insides. Dumb, huh?”

“Sweet,” he said, softly. “Little girl sweet. Never dumb.”

Her eyes traveled up to his and locked there.

“When I got older I wondered what it would be like to kiss it.”

His breath hitched.

“Would it taste like soap, left over from shaving, or would it be all spiky and nubby because you missed a few hairs. Or would it taste uniquely like you do. I still wonder about that.”

“Tiffany.”

Knowing what he was about to do, and to whom, should have sent him jumping off the couch, running in the other direction. Instead, when his head came down to hers all Cole could think about was how much he wanted to taste her again, how he wanted to lose himself in her, and how both those feelings somehow seemed right, even though he knew they shouldn’t.

Her body tensed as he inched closer. When his lips finally captured hers, she turned fluid under his hands.

Her smooth, small body slackened beneath him as his lips gently moved across hers, tasting them, savoring them. Releasing his grip on her arms, he leaned on his elbows and ran his fingers into her hair, cupping her face while holding fistfuls of the glorious mane.

New, strange emotions jumped about in his body, heightening the sensation of every touch, every caress. She had a mouth made for kissing, for being pleasured and for giving pleasure in return. When he parted her lips with his tongue and edged into the inner treasures of her mouth, taking every inch of it captive, Cole felt as if he was falling to an abyss of pure and total joy.

A moan escaped from somewhere within her, so raw, so seductively feminine, it made Cole’s heart jump, thrilling him with the knowledge that he was the cause.

Tiffany’s hands fisted in his hair, moved down to his neck, his shoulders, massaging, kneading the tight muscles.

His lips traced down over her perfect jaw to the small hollow just behind her ear, and she shivered against his mouth.

A hot burst of sanity blew through his mind.

With a suddenness that left him breathless, Cole pulled back and gazed down into green eyes that were cloudy and drowsy and utterly sexual.

“Tiffany—”

“If you say you’re sorry, I’ll kill you.”

Taken aback, he flinched.

“I mean it,” she said, eyes now wide open and glaring straight at him.

“Tiff, I, I don’t know what to say.”

“The truth would be a good place to start,” she told him.
Cole pulled back to a sitting position and avoided her eyes.
When he hung his head into his hands, and swiped his hair behind his ears, Tiffany sat up.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, with the two of us,” Cole said. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. All I think about is—God, I’m sorry.”

“You’re a dead man,” she said flatly.

Intrigued? If you want to read Tiffany and Cole’s story, SKATER’S WALTZ is available in print and ebook, here:

Read a preview of SKATER’S WALTZ

Goodreads Reviews

Looking for me? I’m usually here:

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

So, I had my three-month dermatology check this week. Now, if you don’t know me, you’re probably asking, “Why does she have to see her derm every three months? Isn’t that a little excessive?”

Here’s the Cliff notes: I’ve had many instances of melanoma in the past 6 years, necessitating surgical removals of tumors/spots from my face, shoulders, back, stomach, and thighs. Going every 3 months helps keep my derm guy on the watch for changes.

And I had some this visit.

A biopsy of a spot on my shoulder that he is 99% positive is another cancer, probably melanoma because, apparently, my body likes that type of skin cancer. He also did a cryogenic freezing removal of a precancerous spot on my nose.

A two-fer. I haven’t had a two-fer in a year.

Lucky me. (Did you detect the sarcasm here?)

I haven’t been a sun worshiper in over 35 years. I’m gonna be 65 next month so that means when I hit 30 I stopped dousing myself in lotion and laying out in the sun.

Too little, too late, it turns out. Before I hit 15 I had 2-3 bad sunburns every summer because I am the very definition of pale-skinned. All the Irish heritage has played against me. I got the light eyes, light eyebrows, and light skin and the predisposition for skin cancer. When I was a kid, my mother used to slather me in baby oil and iodine and tell me to go lie out on the roof to get some color.

Boy, did I get color. The wrong kind.

As a teenager, my skin had toughened up a bit, and I was now responsible for the products I used to tan. Remember Ban de Soleil? It was basically baby oil in a spray can. There were no SPFs, nothing to block the rays. In fact, the oil attracted them—right onto my pale skin.

I stopped worshipping the sun when I turned 30, not for any health benefit. I just didn’t have the time anymore. I had a family to take care of and a career. Hours of sunbathing was a thing of the past.

It’s too bad I didn’t make that decision in my teens. It would have saved my 50s and 60s-year-old life a lot of money in surgical fees for skin removal and repair.

When I go out in public now, I have to wear a lot of makeup to hide the scars—of which I have five very prominent ones on both cheeks, forehead, chin, and under jawline.

I was never pretty. Now? I shudder to think what runs through people’s minds when they meet me without makeup.

ANyway. This was a long-winded way of saying a few things:

~ get a yearly dermatology check if you can

~wear a hat when you’re out in the sun, and sunglasses

~wear sunscreen EVERY SINGLE DAY.

~avoid harsh chemicals on your face and body like rock salt body scrubs.

Take care of your biggest organ, kids. Be kind to it. It’s the only one you get!

This little ditty is from over 10 years ago…

I get asked this question a lot. A LOT.

I think it’s because I work outside the home, then I take care of my family, plus I have hobbies such as painting and cooking.

Writing requires a great deal of time and commitment to get it to come out just right. But so does painting, cooking, taking care of loved ones, and working outside the home.

It’s all about time management.

When I worked as nurse, I had fifteen patients every day to care for. Bathing, feeding, administering medications, in addition to interacting with the doctors about the patient’s care, the families, the ancillary services and departments, all were required on a daily basis, and hundreds more I can’t even begin to remember. Back then, overtime was frowned upon and if you couldn’t get all your care and tasks done in your 8-hour shift, you were looked at by the powers that be to see if you needed to be retrained, demoted or fired.

Luckily, I was never any of those because from the get-go I learned how to manage my day accordingly. The most important tasks were done first. Sometimes, this changed daily, or even hourly, but I always started with the most time sensitive and important tasks. Then I went down the line to the ones that required less immediate responses.

This always worked for me and the only time I ever had overtime was when every one else did too: during Code Blue emergencies.

I write in exactly the same mindset.

If you’ve read any of my past posts, you know I’m a plotter, not a panst-er. First thing I do is come up with an idea, then the characters, then I set the plot out in a very detailed synopsis. Once that prep work is done, I start writing the story, but just like when I worked in nursing, I prepare for emergencies: in this case, plot turns and twists. Sometimes during writing I come up with a better idea or situation and I go with it.

Now, to the time I spend writing. I find time EVERY DAY and yes, I mean EVERY DAY, to write. Something. It doesn’t have to be an entire scene. On the days I still work outside my home at my paying job, I tend to write snippets of dialogue or scene descriptions. But I do it everyday, usually before I head to work for a half hour in the morning. No one else is up, I have the entire house to myself and I don’t have to worry about anything else but typing a few lines or paragraphs or pages.

At night, after dinner, dishes, prep for the next day, I write again.

On the days I don’t work outside my home, I can usually devote 6-8 hours at a clip or in divided doses to pound out what I want. Now, of course, there are those off days that I need to do other things, such a doctor appointments, hair dressers, grocery shop etc. so that cuts in to the time.

But the moral of this story is that I write everyday. Every single day. Something.

So the answer to the question of where do I find the time to write is, simply, I just do it whenever and wherever I can, every day.

I love influencers.

I know that sounds weird considering my age ( advanced! lol), but I truly love content creators who are killing it, and I follow a few. One of my faves are/is the Sebrero Sisters on Instagram.

They post, daily, newly released books in the Romance genre. I’ve had several listed over the past few years and whenever I see one on their page, I am just tickled pink. It may sound odd, but when I see a posting with my book listed I feel a little more like I MADE IT!!!

This is a screenshot of today’s post over on Instagram:

SKATER’S WALTZ was currently re-released under my own publishing brand, with a new cover and some updates in the text. Now, this was the first book I was ever lucky enough to have published. It was done so by the WILD ROSE PRESS back in 2015. For the tenth anniversary of the book’s birthday, I obtained the copyright back from the publisher and rebranded and re-issued it.

Now, is it the best book I ever wrote. Nol But it was the first one and you always have a fond memory of your first in the publishing game.