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#SundaySnippet 11.3.19

It’s not difficult to figure out what the Sunday Snippet is this week, is it? Since IT’S A TRUST THING released on Friday, it makes sense I offer a little sumthin’ sumthin’ to whet your appetite and hopefully get you to read the book. Hee hee.

There’s nothing I like more than when a strong woman  – or man – shows his/her vulnerability. In this scene, it’s Nell who does. This is the beginning of her learning to trust in a man she knows practically nothing about except he makes her feel like no other man ever has.

Can she trust him? We’ll find out, won’t we? Hee hee

This is nice,” I said again, eyeing the treetops and the panorama of the horizon. “Do you love sitting out here?”

“I do. Sometimes, when I’ve got nothing that needs my imminent attention, I’ll sit out here on an afternoon and read a book, or bring my laptop out and catch up on what’s going on in the world.” He glanced over at me. “Probably sounds pretty boring to you.”

“Not in the least. I love quiet days, truthfully, because they happen so rarely.”

“What’s your idea of a perfect day, then? One where you could do anything you wanted?”

I didn’t even need to think.

“I love to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and spend an afternoon strolling along the waterfront.”

He cocked his head.
“Have you ever done that? Walked from Manhattan to Brooklyn?”
“I haven’t, no.”
“It’s so much fun, especially on a sunny weekend day. Families with kids in strollers; old folks walking arm in arm. Musicians set up along the walkway and play for donations. I love to people watch. Plus it’s a great way to get in a few miles of exercise without thinking of it as a workout.”

“We’ll have to do it sometime, together. Sounds like a fun day.”

“It is.” A little ball of pleasure bounced through me that he wanted to do it with me.

When I bit into the red velvet cupcake I’d put on a dish, I couldn’t help the moan that broke through my lips. I closed my eyes and let the sweet flavors dance over my taste buds, Forget pumpkin spice. I could eat red velvet cupcakes every single day,” I said, “and still come back for more. They’re so sinful.”

“Hmm. They are good.”

When I opened my eyes, Charlie was sampling his own. His lips, those full and utterly kissable lips, were open and pressed against the cake. A dab of cream cheese frosting dotted the corner of his mouth as he took a bite, then swallowed. Without even a thought to stop myself from what I was about to do, I reached over and swiped my index finger across his mouth.

Charlie went stock-still. He was so still I wasn’t sure he was breathing. The dimmed outdoor lighting reflected twinkling shards of moisture in his eyes as he stared at me. Silent anticipation drifted from him in waves.

Or maybe it was from me.

With a tiny bit of pressure, I swiped the frosting from his mouth, then slid my finger between my lips to suck it off.

How was it possible it tasted better coming from his lips than it had from my own?

The air suddenly changed around us as Charlie let out a deep breath. I was right in thinking he’d been holding his breath, because the volume of air he expelled was vast.

With deliberate and careful movements, he placed the rest of his uneaten dessert on the snack table between us, tossed his legs over the edge of the chaise, and rested his elbows on this thighs, his fingers folded together. With his chin dropped to his chest, he took in another breath, as if bracing himself for something. When he lifted his gaze to mine I had a pretty good idea what it was.

With the sun almost set and the lights from the city shining around us, his beautiful blue eyes had turned to pale ash. They were so enflamed with heat I wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke billow from their corners.

The look of desire is something I’m familiar with. Too many times I’ve seen one of my hunky employees glance at one of Ella’s girls with blatant sexual hunger filling their faces.

I’ve seen it boldly displayed on some of the men I’ve dated who’d thought being with a fringe celebrity was a boost to their narcissistic fantasies, to puff up their already swollen egos. Their desire was more for the situation than for me.

The need in Charlie’s eyes wasn’t like any of those other examples. No, his was pure and raw and all about…me.

A moment ago the tea had protected me against the cool evening air.

But I didn’t need it now. The warmth from Charlie’s gaze was enough to counteract any external chill. And despite the cauldron of heat coming my way, the hairs on my skin stood straight up at attention.

This man, this lovely, charming man whom I still really knew nothing about except his name and a few minor tidbits of his life, wanted me.

Me.

No hidden agenda; no nefarious reasons; no thoughts to use me to his own gain.

Just…me.

How I knew this to be true was baffling. But I was as sure of it as I was that the moon would rise and then give way to the sun. What I was going to do about it was the question.

I don’t remember tossing my legs over the edge of the lounge chair or placing my dish on the table between us, but I did.

Charlie sat up straight, his face an open mask of curiosity with a dose of caution mixed in.

I took a step—literal and emotional—toward him, moving into the open space between his thighs. For a hot second I was afraid it was the wine making me bold.

In the next breath I realized that for the lie it was. Alcohol had nothing to do with what I was about to do.

“Nell?” His hands lifted to settle on my hips.

I licked my lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”
I nodded.

“Can I lie down, here, next to you?”

If he thought the question odd, he kept his opinion hidden as he continued to peer up at me.

“I have this overwhelming need for you to hold me right now,” I told him with more honesty than I’d ever given another man. “Is that okay with you?”

Intrigued? I hope you are! You can get your copy here: Amazon 

Until next time ~ Peg

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Filed under Dot Com Girls Romance, It's a trust thing, Strong Women

#SundaySnippet 3.1.19

I loved writing this wrap-up book for the Will Cook For Love Series sososososoos much! It’s the first book of mine that has a physically scarred heroine and an angsty teenager as a major secondary character. Nikko Stamp is either a love him or not hero for people. I, of course, love him, because even though he’s a bear of man to work for, there’s a real reason he’s the way he is ( you need to read the book to see why! heehee). Plus, he absolutely adores his daughter and would do anything for her. I love a hot dad!!!

This little scene introduces Stacy to Nikko. As you’ll read, Nikko’s new Executive Producer isn’t anything like he thought she’d be.

This couldn’t be the new executive producer.

She looked like an intern, barely out of college, not the seasoned television producer Teddy Davis had emailed him about.

The one he’d emailed back saying he neither wanted nor needed.

Hair the color of champagne fell just below her shoulders in a soft cascade of waves and ripples. Even in the heat and humidity engulfing them, it looked fresh. Her face was a perfect heart, a tiny dip in the center of the hairline bifurcating her brow into two perfectly aligned sections, her flawless chin falling into a delicate point. She had one hand out to shake his, the other shading her eyes from the strong and harsh afternoon sun, but underneath her fingers he was able to make out a pair of sloe-shaped eyes in a deep, forest green.

Taller than average but small boned, her legs took up most of her lissome body. With her lips held together in a tight line, she reached him.

“I’m Stacy Peters, Mr. Stamp.”

He stopped and planted his feet, his gaze shifting to her outstretched hand and then back up to her face without taking it. Her eyes narrowed into a determined glare and it looked as if she wasn’t going to back down until he shook it. With reluctance, he did.

Like the rest of her, her fingers were narrow and thin as they coiled around his.

A blast of heat instantly warmed and calmed his entire body like a few shots of his favorite Irish whiskey did after a rough and painful day. The subtle aroma of vanilla floated to him, filling his senses with the sweet fragrance. The persistent, throbbing ache in his left leg the liquor helped chase away was momentarily forgotten with his hand rooted in hers.

As soon as she pressed her fingers firmly against his palm once, she pulled her hand back.

For a split second, Nikko missed the touch. In the next, he found his anger again. “Look, Miss Peters—”

“Stacy is fine.”

He ignored her. “I told Davis I didn’t need an executive producer. I don’t need anyone telling me how to run this show, what’s going to make it a hit, how to rip the best from the concept. The show will be fine without someone questioning every decision I make and counting every dollar I spend.”

Stacy nodded and folded her hands together in front of her, her gaze staying locked on his as he spoke.

“Those last two he sent me were worthless and more trouble than I could stand.”

“Yes. I know there were…problems with the previous EPs—”

“Problems?” His scornful bark of a laugh was loud and harsh as he cut her off. “Two of the most annoying, incompetent people I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. One was worse than the other. They had no knowledge of how to run a television production. Knew nothing about costs, location shots, or even how to set up food service for the crew. Between the two of them together, I don’t think they had a full brain.”

Surprised was too tame a word to describe his reaction when she laughed out loud. The sound hit him square in the chest like a bullet ripping through his rib cage.

Christ, was she laughing at him?

His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, forcing her head to lift so she could meet his gaze. If he’d thought to intimidate her with his height, he knew he’d failed when she stood her ground, her gaze never wavering from his, her shoulders staying square.

A tiny bit of respect warred with the irritation churning inside him.

“They never even made it out here, one of them quitting an hour after she arrived at the studio. I don’t need incompetents like that around me or this production.”

“I agree.”

Her words didn’t stop him. “Davis promised me creative control when I signed on to this show. That included managing the budget and costs as I saw fit. He gave me his word no one would bother me about piddling things like the price of airfare, how many damn cups we use for coffee or how much it would cost to film at night.”

He took another half step closer, so close now his body almost came in contact with hers.

“What he didn’t promise me was annoying paper pushers who don’t know a thing about running a television show, so you can get right back in that car and have Dixon take you back to the airport, because you’re not needed or wanted here.”

From the side of his vision Nikko saw a small crowd had formed around them. Set technicians, a few of the ranch hands Dixon employed, even the food-service people. He knew he should get a leash on his temper, but the annoyance of being saddled with yet another producer—and one who didn’t even look old enough to vote—had him unable to curtail his fury. Added in was the throbbing mess his leg had turned into from sitting in Dixon’s truck for so many hours.

She’d been nodding at everything he’d said and hadn’t interrupted him once. When he finally stopped, she came to life.

“I can assure you, Mr. Stamp,” she said, her gaze slicing through him with its intensity, “I have no intention of taking any control away from you. This show is yours. Your name is on it, not mine. It’s your baby. And unlike my two predecessors, I do know what I’m doing.” She took a breath, snaked a side-glance at the gathering group of people, and added, “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

The crew laughed.

Before Nikko could form a response, she shot her gaze to the senior rancher. She moved toward him, saying, “Mr. Dixon? I’m Stacy Peters, from EBS. Thank you so much for allowing us to film our competition here, for putting us all up, and putting up with us all.”

Nikko watched a free and easy smile grow on her face, one with twin dimples winking at the corners of her mouth, as she slipped her hand into the rancher’s.

“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve seen around here all day,” Amos Dixon said, shaking her hand and wrapping the other one around it to cocoon it between his. “And it’s my pleasure, young lady. My pleasure.”

Stacy giggled at the rancher, her nose crinkling. Nikko’s stomach muscles contracted at the adorable expression on her face.

“I was familiarizing myself with your ranch on the flight and I have to tell you how impressed I am with your business, and how I’m a little in awe of the scope of everything I’ve seen so far. I can’t imagine living here, seeing all this beauty everyday. It’s breathtaking.”

Dixon’s barrel chest puffed out at the praise.

“I’d be delighted to take you on a tour around the ranch anytime, darlin’—you just say the word.”

“I’d love that.”

“Well, you must be tired from the long trip,” Dixon said, keeping her hand tucked in his. “And I imagine you’re getting hungry too. Little thing like you needs a good, hot meal in her and I’ve got the best cook in the state.”

She laughed and said, “I can always eat, Mr. Dixon—”

“Call me Amos, darlin’. Everyone does.”

She nodded. “And a hot meal sounds great right now, but I’ve got some things I need to see to first before I take you up on your offer.”

Turning her attention back to Nikko, she was all professional polish once again, the smile gone, a blank, unreadable look on her face when she said, “Why don’t I drop off all my stuff, and then I can meet with you privately, Mr. Stamp? I know filming starts the day after tomorrow and there’s probably a million things that need to get done before that. I’ve been brought up to speed on everything, but I’d like to hear from you what you need, when you need it, how I can help you get it, and how I can make

everything easier for you. Would fifteen minutes be good?”

Dumbfounded, Nikko just nodded.

“Great.” She turned to Dixon’s son. “Beau, can you show me to my

room?”

Nikko watched father and son jockey for her attention as Dixon senior said, “Boy, you get the little lady’s bags. I’ll show her up. Shall we?” He held a cocked elbow for her to take, while his son pulled luggage from the trunk of the car.

As the trio walked up the drive and then the porch steps, Nikko’s gaze lasered on the slim back and long legs of his new executive producer as she smiled and listened to the senior rancher wax on and on about his “family’s spread.”

What the fuck had just happened?

Nikko turned to see a battery of eyes staring at him.

“Don’t you have things to do?” he bellowed. “This isn’t vacation camp.” Like lemmings, they all turned as a unit and scurried away.
Nikko rubbed his throbbing thigh, the unceasing pain careening through him. He needed to sit down, put his leg up, and relax for a while.

Maybe more than a while.

Intrigued? If you want to read more, you can get your copy here:

Amazon //B&N // Apple // Kobo // Google Play //Walmart // Books-a-million

And if you’re looking for me, I’m usually here:

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

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

and the link to my recent interview on NewHampshirePublicRadio

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Filed under Alpha Male, Contemporary Romance, Cooking, female friends, Food lover, Foodie, Kensington Publishers, Life challenges, Lyrical Author, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, The Laine Women

#SundaySnippet 1.27.19

It stands to reason since my #1stlineFriday was from THE VOICES OF ANGELS my Sunday Snippet should be as well, no? ( Hee hee!)

Here’s the blurb for Carly and Mike’s story:

Love is the last thing Carly Lennox is looking for when she sets out on her new book tour. The independent, widowed author is content with a life spent writing and in raising her daughter. When newscaster Mike Woodard suggests they work on a television magazine profile based on her book, Carly’s thrilled, but guarded. His obvious desire to turn their relationship into something other than just a working one is more than she bargained for.

Mike Woodard is ambitious, and not only in his chosen profession. He wants Carly, maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything or anyone else. As he tells her, he’s a patient man. But the more they’re together, Mike realizes it isn’t simply desire beating within him. Carly Lennox is the missing piece in his life. Getting her to accept it-and him-may just be the toughest assignment he’s ever taken on.

and now, a little sumthing’ sumthin’ from the book:

A sudden gust of spring wind swept Carly’s hair into her face. Mike stopped and brushed it back with his hands. He wound a curly tendril around his finger, marveling at its silky softness, its sheen. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you sitting in the window.”

Since she was tall, she almost mimicked his height. But not quite.
Locking his gaze with hers, he took her face between his hands and very slowly brought his head down. Her body tightened, her shoulders lifted and froze. Ignoring the response, his lips grazed across hers, tasting, testing, moving hurriedly. When his tongue parted her mouth and leisurely explored the hidden treasures within, she tilted her head back. As he deepened the kiss, taking his time, not rushing, just discovering, she finally relaxed against him.

Sweet. So sweet.

His mouth continued to move on its lazy course while his hands framed her face, the velvety softness of her skin a delight to touch. Ignoring the hammering sounds of the traffic around them, oblivious to the irritated pedestrians forced to maneuver around them to pass, he concentrated only on her.

With a steadied slowness warring with the quaking fighting within his system, he raised his head. Carly’s eyes were closed, her lips still parted. She took her time opening them, and then stared up at him through drowsy, languid confusion.

“Am I the only one who’s feeling something here?” His voice was a soft murmur over the loud hum of the city surrounding them.

“No,” she whispered. He saw the regret of her hasty reply a second later when she lowered her eyes.

“Good.” He smiled. “You just made my day.”

“Mike, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“About what?”

Carly eased out of his embrace, shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and began walking again. Possessively, Mike snatched her arm back and circled it within his.

“I…” Carly began, then stopped. “Oh, hell. I’m not good with words in situations like this.”

His laugh came quick, charmed by her nerves. “Pretty pathetic declaration for a writer.”

Carly stuck out her bottom lip in a very alluring pout. He was tempted to stop and take her mouth with his again.

“Don’t mock me. When it’s on paper I can get it right. Real life has no re-writes, no editing.”

Granted.” The sunlight played with the alternating auburn and fire-red highlights in her hair as they began to walk again. He was convinced no color had ever been so alive.

Carly squared her shoulders. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about me. Concerning men.” When he didn’t comment, she continued. “It’s only, well…I haven’t been involved with anyone since my husband died. I’ve been busy with my daughter and my writing. I haven’t met anyone I’ve been interested in, I guess.”

“Until now.”

Carly turned to look at him. Irritation crossed in her narrowed eyes. “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m more sure of you, though.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike laughed again. He stopped and cupped her cheeks. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re angry. Your left eyebrow arches ever so slightly and your eyes turn the most incredible forest green.” He kissed her and felt her pulse trip again under his fingers. “I would bet,” he said into her hair, breathing in the fresh fragrance of the shampoo she’d used, “no man since your husband has made your heart beat this fast, or your breath come in such spurts, as when I do this.” He lowered his head to kiss her again.

When she arched her back, Mike’s hands did a slow slide downward, coming to rest on the dip under her waist.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he commanded, his voice charged with challenge.

“You are.”

“You’re a liar, Carly Lennox.” Before she could refute him, he continued, “You’re breathing is way too fast, and your eyes are unfocused. But for now I’m willing to back off. I know we’ll be together. I’m certain of it.”

“Why you arrogant, egotistical—I said you were nice. Ha!” She turned on her heel and started to walk away. His vise-like grip on her arm stopped her short. Mike spun her around, drew her to his chest, and his mouth crushed down to hers in a kiss neither patient, nor tender. It bespoke all the raw desire and hunger churning inside him.

Her resolve began to slip under his hands as she relaxed against him again. He knew she didn’t want to respond, but seemed to have no power to pull away, as he had no power to stop the craving for her firing within him. Instead, she moved closer, molding her body to his and winding her arms up and around his neck. Through her light spring jacket he could feel the softness of her body, the desire vibrating through it as her kiss answered his, meeting it measure for measure. Mike pulled her deeper, immersing them in a contest of shared longing.

A blast of sanity blew through his mind when a car horn blared close to them. He clamped down on his rising desire, and eased his hold, releasing her. Carly lowered her head and, once again, avoided his eyes.

Mike’s hand gently cupped her chin and lifted her face back to his. Through eyes narrowed to slits, he said, “Okay, that kiss was a little crude, I’ll admit. As a rule I’m not so-”

Peggy here – want to find out the rest? Here are the buy links:

amazon // wild rose press // kobo // barnes and noble // google books // walmart // books-a-million

and just for you, THE VOICES OF ANGELS is also available on audio here: Audible

Lastly, if you’re looking for me you know I can always be found hereabouts:

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

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

 

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#SundaySnippet 12.16.18

Since I’m currently on a blog tour for this book through Goddess Fish, it makes sense today’s little sumthin’ sumthin’ should come from Christmas and Cannolis, no?

Not everyone in the book is Italian/American. Connor’s uncle, Aiden Gilhooly, a son of Ireland, fills this scene with charm and an impish banter that is so delightful to the ears ( at least I think its! Hee Hee) that I can hear him speak every time I read his dialogue. Hope you can, too.

Our server returned with our food, cutting off what Connor was about to say. At the same time a tall, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, well- dressed man of an age similar to my father’s sauntered over to our table. Connor slid out of the booth and was enveloped in behemoth arms and smacked on the back like a prodigal.

“It’s been too long, boyo,” the giant said. “Too long. You’re looking well. Busy?”

“Ridiculously.”

“Aye, that’s good then. Keep ya off the streets and outta trouble. And who’s this vision, now?” He stared down at our table, and I did a quick side glance to figure out who he was referring to. Vision is a word no one would apply to me. Ever.

“Regina San Valentino. She owns her own bakery and makes the most amazing things you will ever taste in your life.”

“Is that so? Well, it’s nice to meet you, young lady.” He reached a hand across the table, and mine completely disappeared in it. “Aiden Gilhooly, this young hooligan’s favorite uncle, is me name.”

“You’re my only uncle,” Connor said, shaking his head.

“And happy you should be about it, boyo.”

“Like I have a choice?”
It was impossible not to smile at the loving, playful banter between them. Aiden Gilhooly looked and sounded nothing like Connor. If he hadn’t told me they were related, I would never have guessed it. Both were tall, yes, but that’s where the similarity began and ended. Connor’s complexion was olive and swarthy, while his uncle’s was vampire pasty, as if he shunned sunlight at all costs. A mop of mostly white hair tinged with faded patches of pale red sat on a head as round as a pumpkin. Eyes so blue they were almost transparent peeked out from under wooly white eyebrows while fat freckles danced across his nose and chubby cheeks.

If I’d thought Connor’s heritage was anything other than full-blown Irish before now, meeting this uncle who had Ireland stamped across his features surely would have put an end to that thought.

“This is my place,” Aiden said, a cheek-wide smile beaming at me. “And welcome you are, Miss San Valentino.”

“Reggie,” I said, smiling back at him. “All my friends call me Reggie.”

“And it’s delighted I am to be thought one.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. Charm was stacked into this family’s genes by the fistful.
“Now, boyo, sit yourself back down and eat before it gets cold.” He motioned for a waiter and held up an index finger. When Connor was seated back next to me, Aiden pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat with us.

“I’ve been meaning to call,” Aiden said, “about that reservation app you set up for the place.”

“Trouble?”

“Not at all. In fact, quite the opposite. Revenue’s been up twelve percent since it went live. I’ve been meaning to call to thank ya for forcing me old keister into the twenty-first century.”

Connor’s gorgeous face split into the most devilish grin, and a shock of pure lust whipped through me making the space at the top of my thighs tingle. How was it possible that just moments before I’d been feeling depressed and miserable, but one look at this man’s mirthful face and those feelings dissipated, to be replaced by sensations I hadn’t felt in forever?

Madonna.

I was glad I was sitting, my nether regions under the table. I was sure they were visibly quivering and shaking.

“It only took me, what?” Connor cocked his head as he laughed at his uncle. “Ten years of asking?”

“Pesterin’ and harassing me nonstop, is more the truth.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked.”

“Aye. Me, too, boyo.”

I simply adore Aiden. And Connor, Hell, everyone in the book is near and dear to my heart! Now for a little extra. Have you ever wondered what the author of a story intended you to hear when she wrote a scene? I have, so I’m giving you an example of how the voices in my head ( why does that sound so wrong to say?? Hee hee) sound when they speak to me.  Click on the following link and you’ll get to my You Tube page where I narrated a bit from the book. Regina’s Independence Scene.

and if you’re ever looking for me, I’m here:Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

And one more little extra for you: Christmas and Cannolis trailer: 

 

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#SundaySnippet 11.4.18

For today’s entry we’re going old school. I currently have a pre-holiday sale running from Kensington/Lyrical at Amazon and Kobo for my entire WILL COOK FOR LOVE SERIES.

So why not give you a little snippet from the book that started it all, COOKING WITH KANDY?

Blurb:Sugar and spice and everything sexy make the perfect recipe for romance in this brand-new series by Peggy Jaeger. Look for exclusive recipes in each book!

Kandy Laine built her wildly popular food empire the old-fashioned way—starting with the basic ingredients of her grandmother’s recipes and flavoring it all with her particular brand of sweet spice. From her cookbooks to her hit TV show, Kandy is a kitchen queen—and suddenly someone is determined to poison her cup. With odd accidents and threatening messages piling up, strong-willed Kandy can’t protest when her team hires someone to keep her safe—but she can’t deny that the man for the job looks delicious. . .

Josh Keane is a private investigator, not a bodyguard. But with one eyeful of Kandy’s ebony curls and dimpled smile, he’s signing on to uncover who’s cooking up trouble for the gorgeous chef. As the attraction between them starts to simmer, it’s not easy to keep his mind on the job, but when the strange distractions turn to true danger, he’ll stop at nothing to keep Kandy safe—and show her that a future together is on the menu. . .

Snippet:

Kandy’s feet pummeled the treadmill as she increased the pace through the mountain-climbing program.

She needed this run to clear her head. Last night’s events had left her shaken and confused.

Shaken? Ha! Scared witless was more like it.

The phone message had been disturbing and frightening, sure, but the feel of Josh Keane’s arms around her, warming her and giving comfort, had been overwhelming. The titanium-steel hardness of his chest when she’d buried her face into it had not only reassured, but aroused her.

Completely.

She couldn’t remember ever being so turned on just by being held. The feel of him, the actual sensation of his rock-hard body against hers as he held her, gently, was more powerful than any seductive touch could have been.

Josh kept pace with her on the adjoining treadmill. She had her iPod plugged in and ran to the beat of the music. Josh ran music-free, his rhythm steady as he tore through his own preprogrammed routine. Kandy glanced over to check his status to see he’d also selected a mountain run. His stride was much wider than hers, though, his pace almost double.

The ceiling-mounted television in front of them was on and cued to the early morning news. She tried to keep her gaze fixed on the screen, or in front of her, or anywhere that wasn’t on him. Watching those powerful, muscle-laden calves and thighs go through their pace was almost too much to handle. Not to mention the way his T-shirt fit snugly across his ripped-to-godlike-perfection chest and those broad, corded arms, showing and defining all the toned muscle groups beneath it.

No, it was too much to watch.

He wouldn’t be around forever to distract her like this. He’d find out what was going on and then be off to his next job, which was for the best. She had too much to do, too much that needed her undivided attention, to be sidetracked by this gorgeous man following her and watching her every move.

Kandy had no time to worry about things she couldn’t control, like this supposed harasser. She’d tried ignoring the incidents away, tried to convince Stacy it was nothing. Now she had to contend with an outsider going through her friends’ and family’s personal business.

Josh claimed he wouldn’t disturb her life in any way, but he already had just with his presence. In one day he’d insinuated himself into her home, her life. Even her head.

And she just wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

You can purchase the entire series, on sale now, here:

Amazon // Kobo // Nook  // Apple // Google

When I’m not running a book sale, you can find me here :Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

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Filed under Contemporary Romance, Cooking, Food lover, Foodie, Kensington Publishers, Lyrical Author, Romance, Strong Women, The Laine Women

#SundaySnippet 10.7.18 HOPE’S DREAM ( A Deerbourne Inn Novella)

Here’s another little sumthin’ sumthin’ from the upcoming 11.5.18 release of HOPE’S DREAM (A Deerbourne Inn Novella) This little snippet is a very telling one about the relationship between Hope and her mother, Casey.

Hope had had every intention of telling Tyler she was busy again tonight when he’d asked her to dinner, and if weren’t for her mother’s quick butt-in response, she would have. Instead she’d been forced to agree because she couldn’t come up with a legitimate excuse not to fast enough.

Okay, that wasn’t true either, because she’d been torn between wanting to have dinner with him and afraid of what might happen if she did. It had been so long since Hope went on anything resembling a date she wasn’t prepared for the anxiety pouring through her.

That unease had grown when she considered what she should wear. Her choices were limited since most of her clothes were ski related or T-shirts and jeans for working at the tavern. It had been Casey’s idea to tug the long forgotten sweater set from the back of the closet, bought when Hope was in college, and wear it with a pair of dress trousers she’d purchased ages ago.

Since she hardly ever wore makeup, she’d thought to leave her face clean and clear, her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail. Casey nixed both those ideas, insisting her daughter style her beautiful tresses and at least wave some mascara across her pale eyelashes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to reconsider and go instead of me?” Hope asked, hands fisted on her hips. “You’re more excited about this dinner than I am.”

Casey’s smile was animated and bright—two things Hope hadn’t seen for quite some time. If for no other reason than the look on her mother’s face, she was glad she’d acquiesced to dinner.

“I’m excited for you.” Casey rummaged through Hope’s bag of slim makeup choices. “He’s handsome, pleasant, and it’s no secret he’s into you.”

“Mom.” Hope shook her head and tossed a puzzled glare at her mother. “How do you even know what that means?”

From her seat in the wheelchair, Casey straightened her spine and regarded her daughter with a haughty glare. “What do you think I do all day while you’re at work? I watch enough celebrity news shows and daytime talk shows to be up on millennial-speak. I know who’s hooking up with whom in Hollywood, and what housewife is currently under investigation. I’m a treasure trove of up-to-the minute gossip and hot topics of the day.”

Hope pulled the mascara wand away from her face, stared down at her mother with her mouth open, and then blinked. “Millennial-speak?”

Casey’s superior look turned regal. “You know what I mean. And it’s been way too long, Hope, since you did something other than work and take care of me.”

“I like doing those things.”

“Well, you deserve to have some fun, too. Be spoiled. Be treated like you’re special. This man obviously likes you.”

“He liked the way I skied. And I can’t believe you’re okay with me going out with him when I don’t know anything about him.”

Not necessarily true, her head countered. You know he kisses like a dream, makes your insides feel like they’re free-falling off a mountain ledge, and when he looks at you with such focus and concentration, a sensation of being the only girl on the planet washes through you.

“The definition of what dating is,” Casey said. “To find out about the other person you’re attracted to.”

“I’m not attracted to Tyler.”

Liar .

“I’m not going to even dignify that with a response.” Casey rolled her wheelchair to Hope’s closet. “Now. What are you going to wear on your feet?”

With her outfit decided, Hope kissed her mother’s cheek and promised she’d be back early.

“Don’t cut the date short on my account,” Casey had told her, practically shoving her out the door.

Preorder links:

Amazon  // The Wild Rose Press // Barnes and Noble // Apple

And look for the Origination story to the Deerbourne Inn, BY RESERVATION ONLY  by Barbara Edwards, releasing 10.8.18

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Filed under author promotion, Contemporary Romance, Deerbourne Inn, Hope's Dream, Romance, The Wild Rose Press

Another Day, Another Tour. #SDSXX

Happy Sunday, y’all. I don’t quite know how this happened, but apparently, I have an ongoing blog tour booked with Silver Dagger Tours 

that goes all the way into May. Yippie. I missed a few spots along the way but I’m going to make up for that right now. Here’s the complete tour list. There’s  rafflecopter for a $10 Amazon GC and a copy of Can’t Stand The heat in e-book when all is said and done. I’m going to stop by all the sites today and get caught up. Hope you do, too, to support the bloggers ( and me, of course! Heehee)

http://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/cant-stand-the-heat-book-tour-and-giveaway

Apr 9
kickoff at Silver Dagger Book Tours
Romance Novel Giveaways

Apr 10
What Is That Book About
Lock That Door

Apr 11
Readeropolis
3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too

Apr 12
Cloe Michael’s Reads Blog
2 Girls & A Book

Apr 13
Blog of Author Jacey Holbrand
Book Lover in Florida

Apr 14
Nicole’s Book Musings
The Authors Blog

Apr 15
Sylv.net
Yearwood La Novela

Apr 16
Books a Plenty Book Reviews
Book Review Virignia Lee

Apr 17
Bound 2 Escape
Books all things paranormal and romance

Apr 18
books are love
Deal Sharing Aunt

Apr 19
Brianna Remus Books
Fantasticando sui libri

Apr 20
BookwormBridgette’s World
Girl with Pen

Apr 21
Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer
The Book Town

Apr 22
Stormy Nights Reviewing & Bloggin’

Apr 23
Happy Ever After Romance Book Reviews
Inside the Insanity

Apr 24
Jazzy Book Reviews
Little Ray Of Sunshine

Apr 25
Indie Wish List
Lisa-Queen of Random

Apr 26
eBook Addicts
Loves Great Reads Blog

Apr 27
Authors & Readers Book Corner
a small girl, her man and her books

Apr 28
Lisa Loves Literature
The Pen and Muse Book Reviews

Apr 29
T’s Stuff

Apr 30
A Writer’s Life
Luv Saving Money

May 1
United Indie Book Blog
Maiden of the Pages

May 2
Momma Says: To Read or Not to Read
Mello & June

May 3
Plain Talk Book Marketing
Millsy Loves Books

May 4
E-Romance News
Ms. Cat’s Honest World

May 5
Tales of A Wanna-Be SuperHero Mom
XoXo Book Blog

May 6
Teatime and Books

May 7
nanasbookreviews
Rabid Readers Book Blog

May 8
Home for Book Lovers
Unabridged Andra’s

May 9
Books & Spoons
Queen of All She Reads

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Filed under Kensington Publishers, Lyrical Author, The Laine Women