Tag Archives: #books #ebooks

#1stKissFriday 5.17.19

Today’s first kiss is from my newest novella, HOPE’s DREAM (Deerbourne Inn #2).

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?

 

“Well.” He buried his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “I can see for myself you’re fine. You’ve had a full day, so I’ll let you get on home. Thanks again for the great lesson this morning. And for keeping me company while you worked.”

“It was nice to have someone to talk with, so in reality, I should be thanking you. And for seeing that I was safe.”

She wasn’t sure why, but when his cheeks darkened and his chin and gaze dropped down again at her words, she was utterly enchanted.

Without thinking why she shouldn’t, Hope stretched up, intending to kiss his cheek. At the moment right before her lips touched his skin, Tyler lifted his head and turned toward her. The kiss meant for his face landed squarely across his lips instead.

They both went stone still at the contact.

She’d put no heat behind the kiss. After all, it wasn’t as if she were kissing a man she was involved with. No, she’d simply planned it as a sweet way to thank him for being so kind and solicitous toward her, as she would to anyone she considered a friend.

Why, then, didn’t this feel like a chaste kiss between friends?

Why, then, did she feel as if she’d been dropped into a spewing volcano?

And why, then, did the thought of breaking the kiss leave her cold and lonely?

Tyler kept his hands in his pockets, never moving closer, and yet she felt enveloped by him as if he’d wound her into his arms and pulled her against his body. He let out a deep, long breath, the warm air drifting over her face and sending little tingles of…something…straight down her spine. Anticipation? Expectation? Desire? She had no clue, but Hope felt more alive and more aware than she had in years.

A tiny gasp pushed from deep within her when Tyler shifted his head, changing the angle of the kiss.

His lips parted, the taste of hops and barley riding on his breath as she breathed him in. He kept the kiss light, never pushing her into more, giving her all the control of where it went.

Hope had no idea how long they stood there under the bright streetlamp on the empty corner. It could have been a minute. It could have been an hour. The notion briefly blew through her mind that they were out in the open in a town where everyone knew her and liked nothing more to do on long winter nights than gossip. As quick as it came, the knowledge that she didn’t care a whit countered it.

The jarring blare of her cell phone blasted through the silence around them. They both jerked back at the same time.

Tyler’s eyebrows were pressed together in the center of his forehead, the eyelids under them blinking at a rapid staccato pace, his lips parted ever so slightly. Hope would bet a month’s tips her face had the same kind of confusion crossing it.

Intrigued enough to want to read more? Here’s where you can get your own copy of Hope’s Dream:

Amazon// Nook //itunes//  Kobo //  // Google Play

And as always, you can connect with me here: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

 

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#1stKissFriday 5.10.19

Hee hee. I love this picture, don’t you?
Any hoo… It’s #1stkissfriday and today I’m pulling a kiss from DEARLY BELOVED. It’s a little long, but I wanted to give you the feel for the animosity that turns to desire these two have for one another. As a quick set up, they’ve gotten caught in a rain storm which Colleen refuses to come out of until she’s done with a task. Slade is pissed and thinks she’s the type who “doesn’t know when to come in out of the rain,” a character trait he can’t stand.

 

“You know, I can’t figure out if you’re obstinate by nature or you simply don’t like listening to anyone else,” Slade said. He fisted his hands on his trim hips and looked down his perfect nose at me. With his brows touching in the middle of his forehead, he shook his head in disgust. Rainwater flung from his hair with the motion, the cold droplets slapping me in the face.

I flicked a few off my cheek. “Both,” I shot back, letting my own annoyance break through.

It didn’t escape me that even drenched and aggravated the guy was something to look at. How was that fair? I knew—knew—I looked like a drowned poodle. I’d straightened my hair before leaving for the office, but I could hear it frizzing and recurling as I stood there, the humidity and moisture whipping it up into a waterspout of kink. I was sure my mascara had me mimicking a rabid raccoon and God knows what other harried feral creature.

But Slade Harrington looked like a model for a popular men’s fragrance. Any second, I expected him to murmur something in French, like oui or eau.

What was it about this guy that pissed me off to no end but turned me on enough to consider licking him from head to toes at the same time?

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He lowered his voice, dragged in a breath, and raked a hand through his hair from his temple to his neck, slicking it flat against his skull. Like a squeegee, water slid from the tips of his fingers with the movement. “Jesus. We’re drenched.” He looked down at his shirt and pants, and then back to me. His gaze took a slow amble from my head down to my neck, over my breasts and nipples, which were—gulp—as hard and pointed as his were, then farther down. My thin, cotton-blend skirt was literally glued to me from waist to knees. I could only imagine the view he was getting.

Every inch of skin on my body went goose bump crazy under his inspection. Or maybe it was because the rain was so chilly and the day had been so warm.

Nah. The temperature outside had nothing to do with it. The temperature of Slade’s expression though, did.

When he dragged his attention back to my face, the annoyed glare in his eyes changed. Irritation was gone and in its place, want.

Pure, bold, rain-soaked want.

I can’t truthfully say who moved first, but with the next breath I took, his mouth was on mine.

And mine, blessedly, was on his.

During the moments I’d fantasized about what kissing him would be like this past week, I’d imagined all sort of things.

His lips would be firm and forceful or, conversely, tender and soothing.

He’d go slow, savoring the kiss, allowing each of us to get to know the other’s taste, or he’d swoop in and take over, overpowering me—willingly, I’ll add.

So many thoughts ran through my head and every single one of them proved true.

From the moment he put his mouth against mine, all annoyance fled and, with it, the cold. Where moments before I’d been chilled, now a furnace blasted all over me, heating me straight down to my marrow. I craved the warmth, clung to the heat.

Slade’s full lips completely consumed mine. Owned them. Branded them. Never in my life had I been kissed with such…possession. There really was no other word for it.

The sexy mouth I’d daydreamed about was at equal times hard yet soft, insistent yet giving. A thoughtful sigh bounced around my ears, followed by an erotic growl when he parted my lips and plundered. His hands, warm and wet, lifted my jaw, tilted my head back, and changed the angle of the kiss to go deeper, further, to draw out every and any response he could.

And there were quite a few, believe me.

He tasted of the rain—woodsy-fresh like morning dew—and clean. When I snaked my hands up his drenched shirt, kneading all that muscle and strength as I glided upward and then wound my hands around his neck to hold on fast, it never occurred to me I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be standing in a storm, drenched with rain and desire, kissing a man like I’d never kissed a man before. Kissing a man who’d made no secret of the fact I annoyed the crap out of him.

A man who, for all thoughts and speculations to the contrary, was now totally absorbed with kissing me as if I was the last woman he ever would.

I don’t even remember moving, but I felt my back ram into the opened front door, slick with rain, my shoulders flattening against the wood. Slade’s knee eased between my thighs and rubbed side to side along the front part of my lacy thong while his tongue wound with mine and sucked to the same rhythm as the movement of his knee.

This time the groan that echoed around us was mine. His hands moved from my face, up and through my temples to clutch my saturated hair. A gentle tug and he changed the angle of my head again, this time though, his lips left mine to skim across my jaw. The feel of his hot breath along my neck as he made his way to my ear sent tiny shocks and jolts of electricity all through my body. I started to shiver, and it wasn’t because I was cold. About as far from cold as a girl could get, if truth be told.

When Slade let out a smooth chuckle against my neck and then pulled my earlobe between his lips and bit down, the shiver turned to a quake, then a little jump, and I simply lost the tiny bit of sanity I had left.

With more force and ardor than I think I’d ever invested with Vlad, I tugged on the ends of Slade’s hair, still gripped tight in my hands, and yanked his head so his mouth settled against mine again.

I felt a grin split his lips right before I touched the tip of my tongue to his bottom lip. The grin died when he sucked my tongue back into his mouth. That feeling of total possession overtook me again, especially when he slid his hands from my hair all the way down my back to cup my butt. Just as a clap of thunder boomed directly above us, Slade lifted and pressed me into him, so close in fact, I couldn’t tell where his wet clothes ended and mine began.

From shoulders to knees, in one fluid line of connection, our bodies molded together. I can’t begin to imagine how it felt for him to hold me this way, but I can tell you point blank, pressed against all that hard and defined muscle, all that rigid and long length of him—and, oh baby, was there a lot of length!—I felt so desired, so wanted, so bloody turned on, I didn’t care if a twister from Kansas whooshed around us and transported us to Oz as long as I could stand there, held in this man’s arms, and be kissed as if my next breath depended on it.

Look, it had been a long time since I’d tasted desire for, and from, a man. Too long. I’d thought more than once over the past year that Vlad had killed my on button with his lies and meanness. Because of his betrayal, I’d almost forgotten what deep want, that aching, needing longing, I’ll-die-if-I-don’t-have-this- man feeling was like.

For some weird reason, Slade Harrington knew exactly how to turn my sex-switch back to the on position—from zero to eleven with a kiss that shot me out of my shoes.

Another clap of thunder, closer and much louder, boomed above us. This time when I jumped, Slade’s arms tightened around me.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against my ear, then trailed his mouth down to my collarbone. His tongue lapped the rainwater from my skin. When his lips nuzzled against the spot and I felt the subtle tug of sucking, combined with the gentle pressure of his knee between my legs, I swear on all that’s holy and blessed I was a heartbeat from shattering.

I truly think I would have come on the spot, standing up, my panties and the rest of me dripping with lust, if my cell phone hadn’t screamed “Trouble” right at that moment.

The phone call accomplished what the thunder hadn’t, namely, jolted us apart.

I snapped back too quickly, the back of my head careening off the old wooden door, the thwack competing with the crack of the rolling thunder.

Slade’s eyes went wide as soon as I yelled, “Ow!” and he slipped a hand behind my head.

“Are you okay?” He grabbed my shoulders and tried to force me forward while he dipped his head around to the back of me.

I slapped his hands away and gave him a non-too- gentle push. “I’m fine. I need to get this.”

Intrigued? You can get your own copy here: DEARLY BELOVED 

Dearly Beloved was recently named the Long and Short Reviews BOOK OF THE MONTH. You can read the review that sent it over the top, here: Review

And one last brag, I promise! Dearly Beloved came in 3rd Place in the New England Readers Choice awards for 2019 in the Long Contemporary category.

I’m so proud of this book!!! ~peg

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May 10, 2019 · 12:10 am

#LongandShortReviews #WednesdayBloggingChallenge 5.8.19

Topic choices like this one just make my heart go zing!

Today, the writing prompt is  Books I want Youth to discover. So…do you have a couple of hours? Hee hee. Just kidding…not.

I pared my choices down because I really could talk about this subject for a while. The word YOUTH can, to me, mean any age range, so I’m going to cover a few here to be inclusive. The choices I’m laying out are all older books, from the last century even, and not what I would consider popular these days with kids. Which is a shame, because each of these books speaks to universal themes inherent in all children (and adults!). They are all written in language easy to read and understand, and each of these choices is in itself a part of my own youth and growth experience.

In no order, I wish kids (youth) would read these wonderful tales:

So, of course, I start with the book I think should be in every child’s home and read to them by their parents or even by themeselves, over and over until the message is ingrained in their DNA.

The Little Engine that Could . 

Originally published in, I believe, 1941, this is the best story I’ve ever seen about self motivation, and believing in yourself. The confidence that  little engine had in himself is the kind of confidence I wish every single child possessed. I’m 58 years old and I still think of this book and its message when my confidence starts to fail.

Anne of Green Gables

In fact, the entire Lucy Maude Montgomery collection about Anne Shirley. There are many themes explored in these books, but the ones I feel are still topical today are adoption, the plight of homeless and parentless children, acceptance in society when you are different, and the beauty of each person being unique.

Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret.

Maybe it’s because my real name is so similar to the title character. Maybe it’s because the story of 12 year old Margaret is one that mirrored my own life. Maybe it’s because Margaret’s feelings of not fitting in – and of wanting to, desperately – and wanting to be liked were exactly the same emotions and feelings I had at the age of 12. Heck, maybe it’s because she feels the only one who get’s her, who really listens to her is God, just like I did, and still do. Whatever the reason, this book is filled with the universal theme that we all want to loved and appreciated. Plus, there aren’t many books about kids and spirituality that lay out God’s love  so simply  and beautifully.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

I grew up in Brooklyn, NY, just like Francie Nolan. My heritage is Irish, just like Francie’s. I knew firsthand the effects of alcoholism in my family, as does Francie. Is it any one wonder I love this book and wish more kids these days were exposed to it? Yes, it takes place in the last century during a time unlike any other we’ve seen in this country. But again, I go for the universal themes and connectability rampant in the book. This was the book that solidified for me that even if you were poor, considered white trash, and shunned by society, you could still find happiness in every day things, and feel love for those closest to you. Education was the ticket out of poverty and strife, and Francie loved to read – just like I did ( and still do!) Reading for was escape, adventure, knowledge, and beauty.  Betty Smith’s words are as timely now as they were when the book was released in 1943.

“From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.” 

Love that message!!!

So, those are just 4 books I wish more kids read these days. Let’s see what the other authors in this blog challenge have to say. L&SR

And if you’re looking for me, I can always be found here:

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

 

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#Long&ShortReviewsWednesdayBloggerChallenge 4.17.19


Today’s prompt was a thinker for me. We had to come up with 10 unusual things about ourselves. I actually think I’m the most boring person on the planet, so this was kinda tough to write. I had to dig really deep and even go back to high school days to come up with anything. So, here goes: 10 unusual things about me ( the most person alive!)

10. I love scary movies

9. my left eye is significantly smaller than my right ( 2 cataract surgeries, and 2 retinal detachments, plus facial fractures as a baby from an accident)

8. I have vocal cord polyps, which is why I sound like a big smoker when I’ve never had a cigarette in my life.

7. I can name every movie made in 1939 ( being a lonely kid made me a big TV movie watcher)

6. I can recite the entire Wizard of Oz movie along with it

5. I have a heightened senses of taste and smell because of an accident I had as a baby

4. I got a perfect English score on the SAT

3. I can sit in full Lotus

2. I can’t whistle, try though I might

1.  I’m a great mimic

Let’s see what some of the other authors in this blog challenge have that’s unusual about them: L&SR

And when I’m going about living my normal, boring days, you can find me here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend 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

And I can’t forget the OKRWA 2018 Award video

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#L&SR #WednesdayBloggingChallenge 4.10.19

Today’s blog prompt, Characters I never want to meet, was a hard one for me to wrap my head around. I wondered if it meant characters who are already out in the book reading world that are so heinous and unlikable I wouldn’t want to waste a breath on meeting them. Or… if it’s people who haven’t been written yet, just little nuggets of character profiles.

A conundrum to be sure.

I’m gonna go with my first thought that it’s people who are already alive and walking around in the pages of books who I simply want to avoid at all costs.

Hannibal Lecter for example. I mean, would YOU want to meet a cannibal? I’m kinda chubby and I know he’d be thinking LUNCH whenever he looked at me.  Pass.

Jack Torrance is another one who’d I’d rather not shake hands with. He could have an axe behind his back, at the ready to whip it out and go-a-chopping-crazy. No thanks. Pass.

I’m thinking Amy Dunne is a gal I’d rather not meet up for a chat and a cuppa at the local Starbucks for so many reasons, but the biggest one is anyone who has that expressive a resting bitch face is the kind of person you know is planning 50 ways to make your life miserable while she’s chomping at a biscotti. Yeah…BIG PASS!

And does anyone REALLY want to meet Voldemort? I know I don’t. Creep factor aside, there’s that whole moving to dark side thing that’s so unappealing. Pass. Big Pass. Never-gonna-happen-pass.

Maybe the reason I stick to writing romance is because none of my villains are terrifying. Just nasty and petty. I can deal with nasty and petty. Terrifying? Not so much.

Let’s see who some of the other author/bloggers participating in this challenge want to avoid. L&SR

And please don’t avoid me or my characters! We’re nice people. Really. You can find us here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend 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

And I can’t forget the OKRWA 2018 Award video

 

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A little sample to whet your #bookreading appetites

I love when one of my publishers comes up with something new and exciting. The Wild Rose Press has put together a collection of 1st chapter samplers from many of its authors to whet the book reading appetites of readers.

Don’t know if you really want to read that new book you saw marketed all over Twitter? Not sure you want to take on a new-to-you author without first reading something by them? This is the perfect opportunity for you, then.

The first sampler is a collection of 10 Contemporary Romance first chapters, titled FALLING FOR YOU: Contemporary Romance Sampler,

and my own book DEARLY BELOVED is included.

 

The other fabulous authors  and their books included are:
Sunset in Laguna by Claire Marti
Dearly Beloved by Peggy Jaeger 
The Millionaire Mountain Climber by Laura Boon 
Morgan’s Walk by Suzelle Johnston 
Only the Beginning by Daphne Dubois 
Saying Yes to the Mess by M. Kate Quinn 
The Saffron Conspiracy: A Novel by Marilyn Baron 
Operation Sizzle by Darcy Lundeen 
Without Love by Theresa Stillwagon 
Don’t Let Him Go by Kay Harris

At just $.99cents, this is a great way to find some really good books to read and fabulous authors to get to know. In the coming months there will be more samplers in different genres released and I’ll be spotlighting them here.

Until then, I hope you find your new favorite author among this list ( and I hope it’s me! Shameless, thy name is Peggy!)

Find me here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend 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

And I can’t forget the OKRWA 2018 Award video

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Filed under Contemporary Romance, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, WIld Rose Press AUthor

Procrastinator, thy name is Peggy

Procrastinate: delay or postpone action; put off doing something.

When you open a dictionary and look  up the meaning of this word, you will see my picture as the illustration of what a procrastinator looks like.

Truly. This is what you’ll see.

Just sayin’.

Over the weekend I was all alone. Hubby was away and I had the house all to myself. I’d planned on doing my usual daily stuff – gym, laundry, book reviews – and write all I wanted to. I wouldn’t have to stop to cook a meal or take a shower. I could stay in my jammies all day and eat cereal if I wanted to for dinner.

I had such wonderful ideas about how much I was going to be able to write, since I’m working on three projects right now. I could devote all the time I wanted to to each of them, even writing in bed if I wanted to.

You’ve heard these two expressions, I’m sure: delusions of grandeur and the best laid plans?

That about sums up the amount of writing I got done over this alone-time weekend.

What did I do instead, you ask? Well, I’ll tell ya… I binge watched Hollywood Medium and the new season of Queer Eye ( Tan France is my favorite! @tanfrance)

And the term BINGE WATCHED is an accurate one. One right after the other without a pause or a thought that I should be working.

Not even an ounce of regret, either.

Hope your weekend was more productive. ~ Peg

OH – I almost forgot. This happened:

Yeah, I’m pretty stoked right now. It’s for the first book in my Match Made in Heaven series DEARLY BELOVED.

Life is good – even though I didn’t get any writing done over the weekend…..

When I’m not procrastinating you can usually find me working, here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend 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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#L&SR #wednesdaybloggingchallenge I don’t JUST write, you know!

This week’s topic is Your Favorite Hobby and why.

Folks, this one wrote itself.

I was a kid in the 1960’s ( I know: I’m ollllllllllld!) and one of the fun-est things to do on craft day at school was decoupage.

Decoupage  (noun) the art or craft of decorating objects with paper cut-outs.

As a kid it was sososososo much fun acquiring and stocking up newspapers, magazines, comic books, even old catalogs, and cutting out pictures, items, images that I loved just so I could them glue them to things like shoe boxes, jewelry boxes, pictures frames, and give them as gifts. I was between the ages of 5 and 10, so in those days, these were the extent of my gift-giving persona.

Nowadays, I do better.

Nowadays, I decoupage old steamer trunks that I find at rummage sales, and in second hand stores.

I’ve decoupaged 5 trunks over the past 3 years and have 2  more waiting for me to find some free time. When they are complete, I give them away as gifts to people around me who ask. My daughter has 2, my BFF has one, and I’ve got the other 2. This one is sitting in my office behind the couch I use to take naps in when the words aren’t flowing as fast as I want them to.

You can see a cut out of my first book SKATER’S WALTZ on the top of this one! The book just celebrated it’s 4th book birthday on Monday and is on sale until 3.15 for just 99cents an ecopy. ( hee hee, shameless plug, sorry. Had to!)

This is the entire top of the picture above it and if you have really good eyes, you can see a cut out of my second book THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME. I’ll give you a hint – it’s to the right ( your right as you’re looking at this) of Judy Garland.

Anyway, self promo over.

A trunk usually takes me anywhere from 1-2 months to complete, depending on the amount of damage the trunk has when I acquire it. The longest I’ve ever taken is 4 months because I had a trunk with an internal removable shelf. Both the inside of the trunk and the shelf had to be repaired, then papered, then decoupaged. I did the internals first, then proceeded to the outside.

That trunk is my favorite to date and holds sososososo much stuff I can’t stand it!

So. That’s my hobby. What about you?
Let’s see what the other authors in this blog hop do when they’re not writing away: L&SRBlogChallenge

And as always, look for me here when I’m not decoupaging, writing, or doing the other 7689 things I need to do daily:

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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It’s my #BookBirthday Let’s #celebrate with a #99centsale

It’s really amazing to think that 4 years ago TODAY my very first romance book SKATER’S WALTZ was released by The Wild Rose Press. Those of you who know me have heard the story of how this book came to be published more times than you probably ever wanted to hear. But mine truly is a Cinderella publishing story. I wasn’t relegated to sweeping, dusting, cooking, and being a house-maid, and I didn’t have a magical fairy godmother (just a wonderful editor-godmom), but my road to publication started with a contest and ended with a contract.

In the end of 2014 I entered the first romance writing contest of my life. I’d written my first romance novel and wanted to see if it had any chance of being published traditionally. I loved the book but I wasn’t sure anyone else would and I entered the contest, basically, for feedback. The contest called for the first three chapters, so that’s what I sent. And then, I simply forgot about it. I was still working full time, menopause was kicking my chubby tush, and I was uber busy in my personal life.

Four months after entering, I received an email from the contest chairperson telling me I’d won my division. Included in the email were my scores by the various judges and comments they’d made. Once the shock at winning wore off, I read all the comments and felt like I had a shot a getting published. A day later another email arrived from Rhonda Penders, the publisher of the Wild Rose Press. She was the final judge for my entry. She wrote that she’d liked what she’d read and asked if I had a completed manuscript. Boy, did I! Could I send it along to her? Boy, could I! So I did.

Two months after that I received another email from the editor Ms. Penders had assigned the book to, to be read. Condensed version here of the story : they were offering me a contract to publish.

When I scraped myself off the floor and stopped crying, I said YES.

And 4 years later, I’ve never looked back.

So, come celebrate my book baby’s birthday with me with a sale. The ecopy is only 99 cents now until March 15. If you haven’t read it yet, now’s the perfect time. It’s available at these online retailers at the sale price right now:

Amazon // Nook // Apple(iTunes) 

I’ll be out celebrating and birthday-partying today, but if you’re looking for me, 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

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 Contemporary Romance, Friends, MacQuire Women, Romance, Strong Women, The Wild Rose Press, WIld Rose Press AUthor

#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:

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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