Category Archives: Writing

A RECKLESS HEART Facebook party 4.3.2021

Tomorrow, Saturday 4.3.2021, I have the honor of being one of several authors to help one of my favorite authors, Jennifer Wilck, celebrate the release of her newest book, A RECKLESS HEART. We’ll be having fun at the Facebook party for A Reckless Heart from Noon until 7pm EST.

I go on livelivelive at 2:30 pm and I’d love to “see” some friendly faces, hee hee!

Here’s a little about Jenn’s book:

Meg Thurgood, former society girl, took the blame for her friend and paid a steep price. Now all she wants is solitude and a chance to rebuild her life. She thinks she’s found that in an isolated house she rents from a mysterious stranger.

Simon McAlter has hidden in his house on the coast of Maine since a fire left him scarred. A successful landscape architect who conducts his business and teaches his classes remotely, he’s lost his inspiration and is trying to pretend he’s not lonely.

Simon’s new neighbor is more than he bargained for. When he learns Meg’s secret, will he retreat into the shadows or will he learn to see past the surface and trust in Meg’s love?

Sounds great, doesn’t it? Here’s my review: Goodreads

Hope to see you at the party.

~peg

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#TeaseMeThursday 4.1.2021

Last Christmas season, I was part of a 10 author holiday anthology titled CHRISTMAS COMES TO DICKENS. The series received such amazing success and reviews, Christmas is coming back to Dickens in 2021 with another series of stories set in the fictional New England town. This year, each story will be longer and published individually.

As such, many of the authors are doing prequels to their upcoming stories, myself included. SANTA BABY ( Dorrit’s Diner) will be released in july. It’s a novella/prequel to the full-length story, FIXING CHRISTMAS, that will be published on November 9th of this year. Here’s a little tease from SANTA BABY:

38 years ago, on a cold Christmas Eve morning in the tiny town of Dickens….

Amy Dorrit considered it one of life’s simple gifts that she didn’t have to commute to work each morning. She could jump out of bed five minutes before she needed to be ready, and, courtesy of the shower she religiously took each night to rid her of the day’s clinging aromas of grease and coffee, could simply run a quick washcloth over her eyes to rid them of the sleep nestled there. A dab of deodorant, a speedy dance with her toothbrush, a tug of her shiny, waist-length, honey-colored hair into a ponytail, and then she threw on her work uniform of old and much-loved jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers, before skipping down the thirteen steps from her apartment to the diner.

As the owner and operator of one of Dickens’s favorite eateries, and the only one opened 364 days a year, Amy turned the closed sign to open each day and then reversed the act every night. A dedicated work ethic had been drilled into her from the time her parents brought her home from the orphanage at the age of three.

As a child, she’d completed her homework sitting at the lunch counter every afternoon while her mom poured her a glass of milk and her dad cut her a slice of the day’s pie. As a teen, she’d filled out her college applications sitting in one of the booths with her mother and her mother’s best friends, Corrine and Matilda, looking on, giving sage advice and opinions. She’d bussed tables and learned how to brew a delicious cup of coffee before she learned to ride a bike. She’d washed dishes, and when she could be trusted not to burn herself, learned to sling hash and grill a mouthwatering Dickens Burger the locals still asked for by name.

In the two winters since her parents’ deaths within days of one another from the flu, running the diner and serving the citizens of Dickens consumed the bulk of Amy’s life. To honor the parents who’d loved her unconditionally, and to keep their memories alive, Amy kept the diner flourishing.

On this cold Christmas Eve morning, Amy bounded down the stairs, her lips lifting at the knowledge Santa would visit the children of Dickens tonight. The smile broadened when she considered how long she could linger in bed the following morning since the diner would be closed.

And who she’d be lingering there with.

As she moved through the breezeway connecting the diner to her apartment, Amy heard a mewling sound at the back alley door. Her cook, Willie, often left scraps out for strays, especially in winter, and sometimes when she took the trash out at the end of the day, Amy would find a mamma cat searching for something to feed her kittens.

When she opened the door, expecting to see a hungry animal looking for a handout, Amy got the shock of the century when she found a baby carrier, complete with a bawling infant nestled in it.

And so begins the tale…hope this intrigues you! hee hee

 

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#backlistthursday 4.1.2021

SO today’s backlist book isn’t very old or backlisty- it’s from November 2018, but it’s a good little story and I wanted to garner some press for it.

HOPE’S DREAM  is part of the Deerbourne Inn Novellas from the Wild Rose Press. It’s a story of lost dreams and career disillusionment set in a tiny Vermont town during the winter ski season. The h/h, Hope and Tyler, are two people that in the real world would never have met and fallen in love. Thank goodness for fiction! heehee.

Enjoy HOPE’S DREAM 

Hope Kildaire gave up her dream of becoming a nurse practitioner when a car accident killed her father and left her mother an invalid. Working two jobs and caring for her mother leaves the twenty-seven-year-old with no time for fun or relationships. When a law firm representing her paternal grandparents sends her several letters, Hope ignores them. She despises the family who disowned her father and wants nothing to do with them.

Lawyer Tyler Coleman’s job is simply to obtain Hope’s signature on a legal document. Getting it is harder than planned, though, when an unexpected attraction blossoms between them. If Ty is honest with Hope about why he’s in Willow Springs, he’ll fulfill his assignment but may risk hurting her.

The opportunity to have everything she’s ever desired is at Hope’s fingertips. Will her dream come true at the expense of Tyler’s love?

The story is also avialable in audiobook form

As he started back toward the inn, his hands secured in his pockets against the night chill and his neck burrowed under his scarf, he realized he needed to tell her who he was before this went any further. He should have done it tonight, as he’d originally planned. Why he hadn’t was as clear to him as the night sky above: he was frightened once she knew the truth she’d want nothing to do with him.

Could he blame her? While he hadn’t outright lied, he hadn’t told her the truth, either. Which was worse? An intentional fabrication or a lie of omission? Both felt equally wrong right now.

Disappointment had clouded her face when he’d broken their kiss. She felt something for him. That look proved it. He could only hope once she knew who he really was and why he was in her home town, she’d be able to forgive his subterfuge.

Intrigued? here ya go: HOPE’S DREAM

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#goodthingsTuesday 3.30.2021

Today, for the first time in over a year, I took a full breath. Why, you ask? Because my parents rec’d their second Covid shots yesterday. While we still have to use common sense and precautions – hand washing, masks, low number congregations, what this means is that I can take them shopping for groceries once again. I’ve been doing it for them the past year because I didn’t want them around potential carriers of Covid 19. Now that they are immunized, I can allow them out of the house to shop and take walks again.

They are truly thankful.

And, praise Jesus, so I am!

So, what good things happened to you this past week? Inquiring minds ( mine!) want to know.

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#mugshotMonday 3.29.2021

Today’s theme is “define what you drink.”

Everyone who’s ever met me knows I drink tea. I can’t stand the taste of coffee and, in fact, when I was pregnant I wouldn’t allow it to be made in my house – which caused my husband a daily caffeine headache until he got to work.

I bought this mug at a Hallmark store eons ago. So, show me your daily drink-themed mug – if you have one!

Loonking for me? Here I am

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#TeaseMeThursday 3.25.2021

Something new for me today – TEASE ME THURSDAY where I share books I’m currently working on.

Today’s little tidbit is from BALANCE, the next edition of the Uptown Girls series I hope to release in September. The heroine, Phillipa Doubletree, has survived an abusive marriage and is trying to forge a life on her own for the first time in her 38 years.  This is the opening -so far – unedited as of yet. Hope you like it.

The other day while waiting for a manicure, I took one of those rate your life tests you find in old editions of Cosmo and Elle. You know the ones. Your overall score gives an empirical value of how your life’s going at the moment.

Not exactly the healthiest way to take stock of your present situation, I know. But I had a few minutes to kill before my manicurist finished up with her previous client and I figured, what the hell?

I scored a whopping 41 percent on the test.

The only question garnering a complete 10 was the one that asked if your finances are in order.

Mine are.

When you’re the only child of a father with a seat on the Stock Exchange and a mother who was lucky enough to be born into one of the oldest families in the country, you can’t help but be fiscally sound.

Legend has it in my family that trust fund baby were my first coherent, spoken words.

Unfortunately, the rest of the questionnaire’s results were anything but stellar.

~Do you feel fulfilled in your work situation?

I don’t work.

~ Are you happy with your current love life?

What love life?

~Does getting up each day fill you with a sense of purpose?

Okay, that one I’m seriously working on, but I still only rated it a 5. I gave myself that much for the effort I’d been making of late to become a better person.

~Do you have any mental health issues you are grappling with?

I should have given myself a 10 for this one since I was still in therapy twice a week, but since I wasn’t so much grappling with as learning how to deal with my issues, I scored it low.

By the time my name was called, a deep, dark, funk had invaded my soul.

Here I was, staring 38 in the face and had nothing tangible to show for a life of spoiled riches except a few grey hairs and a frown line my mother suggested—strongly and often—I get botoxed away.

I’d married young – way too young – for the wrong reason, and then stayed in the emotionally abusive relationship out of fear. I’d abandoned my best friend when she needed me the most and I’d never taken advantage of all the, well, advantages, my parents’ social standing and financial security offered me.

In essence, from the age of twenty-one, I’d stopped participating in being an adult and went through the next fifteen years in a zombie state. The reason is something I was still coming to grips with, hence the twice-weekly therapy sessions.

And I sound like I’m whining. I’m not.

Well…maybe a little.

But in truth, I was trying, hard, to fashion something for my future aside from therapy, society lunches, and shopping.

Which explained why I was in the back seat of a cab at two in the morning, holding an hysterical, bleeding woman twice my age, while commanding the driver go faster so we could get her to the nearest emergency room. I offered him twice the amount on the meter and told him I’d pay any speeding tickets he got along the way.

In order to give some purpose to my life, I’d been volunteering at a women’s center for the past three months. My best friend Aurora – who’d I’d reconnected with after a fifteen-year separation – got me the position after I told her I needed to do something constructive with my life. Aurora had been a volunteer at the center for a few years and felt my participation would help both the marginalized women there who were in need, and myself. Since I’d been in a relationship that had taken over my mind, body, and spirit, and I’d managed to come out on the other side of it emotionally and physically intact (mostly), she figured I’d be a good role model to women in similar, and even worse, circumstances.

Because I could walk the walk and talk the talk of a woman who’d been subjugated and made to feel less than by the person who was supposed to love me unconditionally, Aurora figured I could relate to the women’s fears and worries. I’d actually been through the fire they were currently navigating through.

She wasn’t wrong. Despite our economic and social differences, the women I’d dealt with found in me a sister in arms. Since joining the team, I’d woken on volunteer days with a sense that I was doing actual good in the world (which explained the score of 5 on the questionnaire.)

Here’s the tentative cover – which I may change. Not sure yet:

Looking for me? Here I am:

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#goodthingsTuesday 3.23.2021

My good thing today is a VERY GOOD THING!! My first Covid Vaccine is scheduled for tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be my only one, depending on if they use the J&J innoculation.

Stay tuned for details.

So, what is something good that happened to you this week?

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A RECKLESS HEART, a new #book release from #author Jennifer Wilck

My writing friend ( and wonderful human being) Jennifer Wilck, is visiting me today, talking about writing, marketing, and her new book release. Please, give her a big show of love!

Here’s Jennifer….

One of the first things I do when it’s time to market a new book is contact my writer friends to see if they have any guest spots open on their blog. I love meeting new readers, and blog visits are the perfect way to do this. Peggy is always extra generous with her time and enthusiasm, and I’m so grateful that she offered me a guest spot.

She and I are both authors at the same publisher—The Wild Rose Press. We were lucky enough to meet in person at a writer’s conference in New York City two years ago. Ahh, the good days, when we could go places and do things and hug people. Anyway, I was so excited to finally meet her in person, after spending lots of time speaking virtually over social media and on our publisher’s author loop. She is even more joyful and supportive and fun in person as she is online.

While writers might be known for being solitary creatures, we can’t do our jobs without the help of other people. I’m lucky enough to have a host of people who support me in so many ways—whether it’s help with plotting, critiquing my writing, marketing my books, or just cheering me on. The support system is essential, and I couldn’t do what I do without them.

For my latest book, A Reckless Heart, another one of my writer friends helped me with the backstory for my heroine, Meg. I needed a reason for Meg to be rebuilding her life. My friend told me about a story she’d read in the newspaper about a publicist to the stars who caused an accident at a club. We then started brainstorming—what if… I can’t tell you where we went from there, because it will give away part of the plot, but I can tell you that it’s because of the help I received from my friend that I was able to tie everything together so nicely (although it took a lot of work to get there!).

A Reckless Heart is the first in a four-book series, Scarred Hearts. Friends play a huge role in the entire series. I hope you enjoy reading the books, and I hope you are lucky enough to have a group of friends who support you when you need them. I couldn’t do this without them.

A Reckless Heart 

 

Meg Thurgood, former society girl, took the blame for her friend and paid a steep price. Now all she wants is solitude and a chance to rebuild her life. She thinks she’s found that in an isolated house she rents from a mysterious stranger.

Simon McAlter has hidden in his house on the coast of Maine since a fire left him scarred. A successful landscape architect who conducts his business and teaches his classes remotely, he’s lost his inspiration and is trying to pretend he’s not lonely. 

Simon’s new neighbor is more than he bargained for. When he learns Meg’s secret, will he retreat into the shadows or will he learn to see past the surface and trust in Meg’s love? 

Simon opened his email to find a new message from Claire.
“I met your tenant today. You didn’t tell me she was our age! She seems nice. Do you have her phone number? I want to invite her over for coffee.”

Simon shook his head and responded. “Oh. You didn’t ask. Okay. Yes. Why?”

He was difficult on purpose. Claire was one of his oldest friends. They’d both gone away to college and returned, although for different reasons. His family’s wealth never fazed her; she was the only one who continued to try to get him into the world. He admired her useless tenacity.

Scrolling through his other emails, he responded to clients and students and sent inquiries to contractors over the next few hours. None of his projects inspired him. Not even the project he worked on for Claire. Especially that one, truth be told. All he saw when he looked at the drawings were plants and flowers. They didn’t speak to him, didn’t provide dimension, offer a creative outlet, or touch his soul. They didn’t convince him to bear the scrutiny he’d receive if he provided alternate plans to Claire for the town’s open land. He already regretted agreeing to design the land into a community park.

Meg distracted him from all of it.

She’d run away from him. Despite her actions, he thought about her all day. It was annoying.

He didn’t let Claire see him. Why in the world would he interact with a complete stranger, regardless of how pretty she was? Because the sound of her voice, other than the shriek, intrigued him. Because he needed to thank her for the zucchini bread. Because he’d scared her. Because he was a complete idiot.

His email dinged, and he opened Claire’s response. “Because.”

Annoying female. His mouse hovered over the trash icon. What if Claire didn’t take no for an answer and came over to his house to get Meg’s number? She often went to great lengths to get what she wanted. And he could further imagine Claire deciding he needed a visitor. Or several. She would shatter his seclusion and peace. He responded.

“410-555-4819”

A moment later, she responded.
“J”

With a sigh, he stalked toward the old mansion.

Buy Links

Amazon: ~ Barnes & Noble: ~  Apple: ~ Goodreads: ~ BookBub:

Jennifer started telling herself stories as a little girl when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Pretty soon, her head was filled with these stories and the characters that populated them. Even as an adult, she thinks about the characters and stories at night before she falls asleep or walking the dog. Eventually, she started writing them down. Her favorite stories to write are those with smart, sassy, independent heroines; handsome, strong and slightly vulnerable heroes; and her stories always end with happily ever after.

In the real world, she’s the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men she knows. When she’s not writing, she loves to laugh with her family and friends, is a pro at finding whatever her kids lost in plain sight, and spends way too much time closing doors that should never have been left open in the first place. She believes humor is the only way to get through the day and does not believe in sharing her chocolate.

She writes contemporary romance, some of which are mainstream and some of which involve Jewish characters. She’s published with The Wild Rose Press and all her books are available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

You can connect with Jennifer, here:

Website ~ Facebook ~ newsletter ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ Bookbub

 

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#mugshotMonday 3.22.2021

So, today’s mug just makes me laugh. I don’t know when or where I got it – I think it may even have been a gift, but it has a writer thinking he’s typing the great American novel in a thought bubble over his head, and on the typewriter paper he has one word. The caption for the mug is DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR – something I think all writers have invade their thoughts at one time or another during their careers.

Now I showed you my funny mug of the day…where’s yours??

Be well and stay healthy, Peg

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#SundaySnippet 3.21.2021

Recently, my indie published RomCom IT’S A TRUST THING went wide, meaning it’s now available across all digital devices. Here’s the link : IATT.

Today’s snippet is from the book.

A few “’Night, professors,” reached my ears and when I lifted my gaze to the entranceway, Charlie was standing there again, much the way he’d been before the class started: one shoulder relaxed against the doorjamb, his briefcase in one hand, his other in his pants pocket.
Lord, the man could have popped off the cover of a fashionable menswear magazine. No one should look that delectable in real life.
When the last of the students exited, he entered. My pulse rate tripled the closer he came. With a smile I can only describe as irresistible and devastatingly sensual, he leaned down once he reached the podium, those lips twitching at the corners, and said, “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s smitten with you.”
And then he pressed that gorgeous mouth right to mine.
I inhaled him as he smiled against my lips, and just like that, without a word or a notion of a warning, my heart turned over.
Was it possible to fall in love in an instant? To know the person you were with was the one; the true one? The one meant for you, destined to be yours for eternity?
In the time it took me to consider how dumb it all sounded in this day and age, I countered with the ferocity of the emotions coursing through me.
Was this love? Was this what the poets clamored on about and romance writers swore truly did exist?
I didn’t have an answer, since I’d never felt this way before. No other man had ever caused such a commotion and chaos inside my mind and heart as this one did.
The thought was terrifying, enlightening, and hopeful all at once.
But even if what I was experiencing was love it didn’t mean Charlie felt the same. Smitten wasn’t exactly an I’ll love you forevermore declaration, maybe more just a pronouncement of intent. We’d gotten past my third date rule, so the question of exploring one another on a more intimate basis was definitely on the table.
But sex didn’t equate with love, this I knew for fact.
No, my feelings were my own and since they were new and raw and unfamiliar, I didn’t want them revealed, so when he pulled back from the kiss I reverted to type.
“Are you sure you don’t teach English Lit? Because ‘smitten’ simply screams Jane Austen.”
His grin grew to a wicked cheek-wide smirk that had my insides going bonkers again.
“They’re considered classics for a reason,” he said as he reached over and grabbed my briefcase. “Come on. I’m hungry and I’ve been looking forward all day to spending some time alone with you.”
Awww. Forget flutter. My tummy muscles moved into disco dance mode.
Intrigued? I hope so. Heehee

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