Tag Archives: #BacklistThursday

#backlistthursday 1.21.2021 FIRST IMPRESSIONS (MacQuire Women, book 3)

Keeping with our theme of revisiting all my books in series in order, today I give you FIRST IMPRESSIONS (book 3 in the MacQuire Women series).

This was the very first book I wrote where I had the hero fully formed and developed before I ever had a plot or a heroine. I just knew I needed to tell Pat Cleary’s story because he’s such a misunderstood guy. People think he’s a player, but he’s really just searching for THE ONE. He wants a marriage as wonderful and long lasting as his parents, so he’s picky and realizes he needs to kiss a lot of frogs first!! hee hee.

 

BLURB:

Family Practice Doctor Clarissa Rogers’ first impression of Padric Cleary is biased and based on gossip. The handsome, charming veterinarian is considered a serial dater and commitment-phobic by his family and most of the town. Relationship shy, Clarissa refuses to lose her heart to a man who can’t pledge himself to her forever.

Pat Cleary, despite his reputation, is actually looking for “The One.” When he does give his heart away, he wants it to be for life. With his parent’s marriage as his guidebook, he wants a woman who will be his equal and soul mate in every way.

Can Pat convince everyone – including Clarissa – she’s the only woman for him?

ENJOY….

“I told you I thought I should apologize but I didn’t want to, and it was the truth. I enjoyed it. I’d hoped you did, too.”

When she didn’t answer but continued to stare at him, an expression he couldn’t name on her face, he shook his head and, said, “My ego really takes a beating around you.”

She smiled then and squeezed his hands. “I think your ego is pretty intact, Pat.”

“I really like when you do that,” he said, a heartbeat later.

“What? Talk about your bruised ago?”

He shook his head, charmed by her teasing. “When you laugh. And smile. I really like when you smile. Especially at me.”

Her blush deepened. “Pat…”

Without thought, like he had in his office earlier in the afternoon, he dipped his head down. With her hands still in his, he gently tugged her closer, and watched her eyes widen as he moved in.

He gave her a second to resist, to pull back. He thought she might.

But she didn’t, so he did what he’d been dying to do all day. Hell, since they’d met.

With her caramel-colored gaze boring into his, Pat kissed her.

A brief touch, barely a whisper of contact is all it was, but Pat’s insides imploded when her mouth settled against his. His hands still held hers and when he pulled back to stare at her face, two things happened simultaneously and almost made him lose his mind.

First, Clarissa trailed her tongue over the area he’d kissed, moisture wetting her plump lips. A shot of pure want bulleted through him when her lips glistened in the dim lighting of the doorway. At the same time he felt a tug on his hands and in the next second, Clarissa’s arms were wrapped around his neck, her hot, sweet mouth plastered to his.

He couldn’t think. Wouldn’t have been able to answer a question if asked. All he could do was feel. Stretched up against the length of him, up on her toes, Clarissa molded her body to his while her mouth pressed against his. His hands went around her waist, up her back to push her in even closer, their bodies separated from one another only by the width of their clothes.

Pat’s hands pushed against the butt he’d been fantasizing about minutes before, clutching it. It fit his palms as if it’d been forged for his hold.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

He lost the ability to breath when Clarissa traced the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip. In less than a heartbeat, he sucked it into his mouth, twirling it around his own, exploring every part of her mouth. She tasted like sin laced with sugar. A tiny whimper cried up from the back of her throat, and she tightened her grip around his neck.

With a quick tug, Pat yanked her up his body and settled her butt in his spread palms. She wound her legs around his hips to cross high on his waist around his back. The hottest part of her, damp and blazing, now nestled against the hardest part of him, straining against the zipper of his pants. Using her front door as a plank, he turned and braced her against it. Torturously, he ground his hips against the soft fabric of her jeans, causing another whimper to morph into a full-fledged, erotic moan from deep within her.

She fisted his hair, tugging, twirling it around her fingers, massaging his scalp, as his tongue moved from her mouth to slide across her cheek, skim her jaw, taste the back of her ear. He licked his lips, then trailed his wet mouth back and forth against the hollow of her shoulder.

She tasted like sunshine and smelled like a warm summer night.

“God, Clarissa, you feel so good.” He nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear and gently nipped her lobe between his teeth.

He tugged on it, and his heart skipped a beat when she cried his name. With purpose, one of his hands trailed down her side to trace the outline of a breast. He swallowed her gasp as his fingers splayed over her hardened nipple and delicately pinched it through her shirt. Her butt jumped against his hands, and he felt her vibrate—actually vibrate—against him.

“Pat—”

“I love when you say my name.” His lips found hers again, and like the first time, his stomach did a frantic little jig.

He felt her back shake and her hands push against his shoulders, trying to separate them. When she succeeded, his mind went blank as a tiny little suction sound, sexy and unbelievably hot, shot from them when they parted. Her eyes were huge and wet, the brown so deep they looked like chocolate tempering, and he melted right into them. The most intimate part of her was pressed against him, shaking with what he thought was need.

She smiled, almost laughing. He didn’t think his ego could take another blow, when a muffled sound hit his ears.

“What’s pinging?” he asked.

“My beeper. It’s going off.”

They both looked down at the same time. Her pager was pressed against his substantial erection. The vibration shook straight to his toes, and his penis pulsed against it. He knew she could see what was happening to him, when, suddenly, he realized he had her pinioned against the door.

With an oath, he gently lowered her, and when she had a solid footing, released his grip.

She pulled her pager from her waistband, repositioned her glasses, which had gone askew from her shirtfront, and went to get her phone.

While she answered the page, Pat none-too-gently banged his forehead against the door she’d been plastered against.

What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, he had her bracketed against a door—a door—like some out- of-control, hormone-driven teenager.

And it hadn’t taken anything other than a small, innocent kiss to drive him crazy. He blew out a deep breath and tried to summon up some calm.

“Pat.”

With his eyes closed, he pushed off the door and turned around. When he opened them, he wasn’t surprised to see a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I have to go see a patient in the E.R.”

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and nodded. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to voice what he thought he should.

Intrigued? you can get your copy across all digital media and in print, here: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Happy reading, peeps  ~Peg

 

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#BacklistThursday 1.14.2021

Last week I shared a little snippet from my debut novel, Skater’s Waltz. This week on #BacklistThursday, the second book in The MacQuire Women series, THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.

This book is so dear to me because it was my very first, true Friends to lovers romance novel.

Blurb:

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.

Moira’s best friend, veterinarian Quentin Stapleton, wants nothing more than to help Moira get well. 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?

and here’s a little snippet from the book…

She started to open the front door but stopped when Quentin abruptly turned back and started up the porch steps again.

“I forgot something,” he told her.

“What?”

When he came up the last step and crossed to her, he said, “this,” and without another word pulled her into his arms.

Her first and last coherent thought was her best friend was going to kiss her goodnight. After a heartbeat, she forgot the best friend part and knew down to her toes friendship had nothing to do with this.

His lips slid across her mouth, soft and gentle, testing, tasting. Moira’s mind went blank as she succumbed to the sensation of them, hot and hard, pressing against hers in a kiss like none he’d ever given her before. Slowly, he traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, silently asking her to open for him. When she did, he entered her mouth and began to explore, each movement becoming more demanding, more insistent. Moira fell against him, fisting his jacket lapels to steady herself. When she felt his heartbeat pounding under her hands, she grew lightheaded with need. Quentin framed her face with his fingertips, softly tugging down on her chin, changing the angle of the kiss.

She’d been kissed before, but never, never with such all consuming need and longing. She heard a deep moan and was shocked to realize the sound had escaped from her. One of Quentin’s hands left her face to slide down her back. When he pushed against her backside and molded her body to his, Moira’s stomach jumped. This time, though, it wasn’t with the painful contractions she’d come to expect, but with a heart- stopping craving.

A craving for him.

She unfurled her hands from his jacket and, without thought, wound them upwards, weaving them over his shirt collar and up through his hair. She grabbed onto the ends, pulled his head down closer, and held on fast.

All aspect of time was lost. Nothing mattered but the delicious feel of his strong hands caressing her back and the taste of him as his tongue mated with hers.

This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream.

But no dream had ever made her want like this, feel like this. When he skimmed his lips across her jaw and down her throat, stopping to take her lobe into his mouth, Moira knew this wasn’t a dream. That same feeling she’d had when she looked at him in the movie steeped through her again, tickling her stomach muscles. With a jolt, she realized the sensation was desire. Pure and simple.

Quentin pulled back and stared down into her face. With a heavy sigh, he laid his forehead against hers, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. So damn long.”

“Q—?”

He traced one finger lazily down her jaw and across the lips he’d just caressed, silencing her. “Remember when your cousin Tiffany got married in the backyard here?”

Confused, Moira nodded. She licked her lips, running her tongue across his caressing finger. The hiss that blew from him made her thighs shake.

Quentin rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “When the Reverend told Cole ‘you may now kiss your bride,’ and he swooped her off the ground, spun her around, and kissed her silly? Remember what you said?”

Moira tried to conjure the scene. “I think I said it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.”

He nodded. “The exact quote was ‘I hope someone kisses me like that some day.’”

Her grin was quick at the memory. “Pat snorted and said I’d better be satisfied with licks from the horses and Rob Roy because no guy was ever going to kiss me like that.”

“He wasn’t known for tact back then,” he said, rubbing a hand down her back as he held her next to him in the soft lamplight from the porch. The soothing, rhythmic smoothing of his hand made every nerve on Moira’s body stand at attention.

“Later on that day, behind the barn, remember what happened then?”

Because she did, she couldn’t stop the heat from spreading up her face like wildfire. When she merely nodded, he traced a kiss across the area he’d just caressed, and said, “You wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed like that and since I was your best friend, you thought I should be the one to do it, because you—quote—felt safe with me—unquote.”

“What was I? Eleven?” she said, finally finding her voice, and unnerved to hear it whining.

“Thirteen. We both were, and I was more than willing to do it. Almost broke my heart in two when you said afterward, ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about.’”

His lips twitched at the corners when he said it, and Moira felt the warmth of her blush intensify.

“Q—”

“Hush.” He kissed her forehead. “Ever since that day, all I’ve wanted is a second chance. Now,” he pulled her body closer, wrapped both arms around her small waist, his hand resting just above the dent in her spine. “We’re both a little older, a little more mature. Some of us are much more experienced—”

“And conceited.”

“Experienced,” he said, the laugh in his voice quiet and seductive, “and things can be so much better.”

And if you read the book, you know they were, hee hee!

Intrigued to read more? Here ya go, let me make it easy: There’s No Place Like Home

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#BacklistThursday

Here’s a different take on the old #TBT ( throw back Thursday for those unfamiliar with the hashtag).

Every THURSDAY I’m going to add a little snippet from one of my backlist books from the beginning of my writing career. As writers, we tend to get hyperfocused on our newly published books. I want to give some love to my first titles, the ones that launched my career and made me sososo very happy!

First up: SKATER’S WALTZ, my debut romance from the WILD ROSE PRESS.

Figure skater Tiffany Lennox is busy with rehearsals for an upcoming ice show when the only man she’s ever loved comes home after a two-year overseas stint. She needs him to see her for the woman she’s become and not the child he knew to ensure he stays home. This time, for good. With her.

For all his wanderlust and hunger for professional success, Cole Greer returns to New York wanting nothing more than to rest, relax, and recover. He is delighted in being Tiffany’s hero and has a special place in his heart reserved for her. But faced with the oh-so-desirable woman she’s become, he starts questioning his determination to keep their relationship platonic. When forced by the television network to go back on assignment, Cole—for the first time in his life—is torn between his career and his heart.

And here’s a little taste to whet your book reading appetite!

To recover his balance, Cole leaned back into the couch, grabbed what he hoped were her upper arms, and shoved. In a heartbeat, she was lying backward along the length of the couch with him spread out on top of her.

Both were laughing and wriggling, each trying to get the upper hand.

Tiffany squealed, trying to twist her hips out from beneath him. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance. I know how your devious little mind works, and I taught you how to do this. The minute I loosen up, you’ll hip check me over the back of the couch. No, thanks.”

Tiffany burst out laughing. “You rat. That was exactly what I was going to do.”

“You know retreat and surrender are inevitable, Tiff. I outweigh you, and I’ve got the distinct advantage of your injury in my favor. Give?”

“Okay, you win.” She went limp beneath him.

The corners of his eyes narrowed as he smiled down at her. “You must be maturing,” he said. “You never used to give up so easily.”

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 so, the book is  Available from these ebook stores: ( and in print from Amazon!)Just click on the icon and it will take you directly to the site.

AmazonAppleBarnes & NobleKoboGoogle PlayScribdThaliaBol.de!ndigoAngus & RobertsonMondadori Store

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