Tag Archives: #comingsoon

#teasemeThursday 4.8.2021

Today’s tease is in honor of brothers. I don’t have any but if I did I’d want them to be like the 4 Keane men in Brothers, Inc.

So, for your reading and teasing pleasure, here’s a little something from A PRIDE OF BROTHERS: AIDEN ( release date sometime in 2021). Aiden has just arrived home from a two month assignment out of town and his older brother Dylan is picking him up at the airport.

Enjoy!

At the bottom of the escalator he spotted his older brother, Dylan, waiting and holding a sign reading, Welcome Home, Brain.

Dylan tossed him the cocky, shit-eating smirk he reserved for his baby brother. The one that, when he’d been a scrawny, shy, sickly kid, filled Aiden with insecurity. Not any longer. Now that he matched his brothers for height and strength, Aiden’s insecurity was a thing of the past.

“Hey, baby bro,” Dylan said, tugging his brother close and banging him on the back a few times.

“You’re an asshole,” Aiden said, “with that sign.”

“Yeah, but ya love me anyway.”

Aiden shook his head, while his brother tossed an arm over his shoulder and tugged him along.

“Car’s right outside. And I brought a little lady along with me.”

His mood lifted considerably. “You been taking good care of her for me? I better not find out she gained ten pounds and got lazy from laying around all day.”

“Cool your jets. She’s as fit as always. But I think she’s forgotten all about you. Absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder and she now knows, firsthand, I’m the better brother in every way. She’s grown quite used to being with me.”

“Don’t bet on it. She’s as loyal as they come.”

He’d parked the Jeep outside the loading zone barrier, it’s flashers on, the motor running.

“As least you kept the air conditioning on,” Aiden said when he spotted the vehicle.

The moment he opened the passenger back door he was set upon by one hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle and love.

Laughing, Aiden allowed himself to be licked and pawed, while he rubbed and loved on the dog that meant more to him than most people he knew.

“I missed you, too, girl. Did Uncle Dylan take good care of you?”

The dog answered by jumping and placing her paws on his shoulders, her tail swishing like a windshield wiper, and gracing his face with another slobbery lick.

“Dog’s more spoiled than you were as a kid,” Dylan said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Come on. I don’t want to get ticketed.”

Once the brothers and the excited chocolate Labrador were settled in, Dylan pulled out into traffic.

“She give you any trouble?” Aiden asked as he continued to rub the dog’s neck where she peeked in between the front seats.

“Not an ounce. I don’t think she even barked once while you were gone.” He glanced at his younger brother, a sly grin gracing his face. “I never knew a dog was such a babe magnet. Whenever I took her for a run in the park, chicks flocked around her, and by extension, me. I got more numbers shoot my way than I could deal with.”

Aiden frowned at him. “I don’t like the idea of you using my dog to score with women.”

“I didn’t use Bronte for anything unseemly, but I couldn’t help how many women thought she was quote, the most beautiful dog they’d ever seen, unquote, and just had to pet her and ask me all about her.”

“I’m gonna bet you sang your own praises more than my dog’s.”

“I’m not taking any part of that bet.” Dylan’s smug grin pulled a headshake and a wry smile from him.

Intrigued? I certainly hope so. heehee

Until next time, peeps ~Peg

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#TeaseMeThursday 4.1.2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who she’d be lingering there with.

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

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

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

 

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Cover reveal for new Shirley Goldberg novel, EAT YOUR HEART OUT

Yup, it’s a Cover Reveal for one of my Wild Rose Press sistahs, Shirley Goldberg!

I’m so thrilled to show off her new cover for Eat Your Heart Out, the second book in the series Starting Over.  

 

A little note from Shirley:

Two foodies, Dana and Alex, banter, sauté, and tiptoe around each other. Except for the occasional smooch. What’s with that? 

I’m sharing more of Eat Your Heart Out’s details on my blog. Read the blurb and click this link https://midagedating.com/ to read an excerpt. Too soon for links, but I’m looking for ARC readers, so please keep in touch. Publication date coming soon!

Thanks to Debbie Taylor for her cover and the team at The Wild Rose Press for all their hard work!

Blurb for Eat Your Heart Out

When a tyrant in stilettos replaces her beloved boss, and her ex snags her coveted job, teacher Dana Narvana discovers there are worse things than getting dumped on Facebook. Time for the BFF advice squad, starting with Dana’s staunchest ally, Alex—hunky colleague, quipster, and cooking pal extraordinaire. But when the after-hours smooching goes nowhere, she wonders why this grown man won’t make up his mind. 

Alex Bethany’s new lifestyle gives him the confidence to try online dating. What he craves is a family of his own until a life-altering surprise rocks his world. He knows he’s sending Dana mixed messages. Alex panics when he thinks he’s blown his chance with his special person. From appetizers to the main course will these two cooking buddies make it to dessert? 

Funny and bittersweet, Dana and Alex’s story will have you rooting for them.

Peggy here: this sounds fun, doesn’t it? And I love the cover!

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#Teasertuesday 11.24.2020 BAKED WITH LOVE ( A Match Made in Heaven, bk 3)

Since BAKED WITH LOVE is due out in less then 3 week ( I’m not freaking out.I’m not!) I figured a teaser from the book would be good for today. This scene is Maureen’s first indication Lucas may feel something for her more than friendship…

“What were the three of you talking about?” I asked Lucas once the others left the kitchen.

Before answering me, he closed the dishwasher and wiped his hands on a dishtowel.

He leaned back across the sink ledge and crossed his arms over his chest. The material on his dress shirt pulled against the bulk of his biceps, and my mouth went dry as unprocessed baking flour.

“Mac’s bachelor party. Cathy said she’s busy next weekend finalizing some wedding stuff with Colleen, so they’re both free. We’re gonna do something Saturday night.”

“What? Heaven’s not exactly the place where three guys can run amuck as a last hurrah to bachelorhood. Not that you’d ever run amuck, but still.”

His right eyebrow rose on his forehead. “Run amuck?”

I shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

When he dropped his chin to his chest, I got the distinct impression he was laughing at me and didn’t want me to see. When he shook his head, I was certain of it.

“I should pay you to help Robert with his SAT prep. Amuck. Good word.”

“And accurate. So, what are your plans? Getting out of town for the night? Driving into Concord or Manchester? Hitting a few bars and drinking your weight in beer?”

He angled his head to one side as he regarded me through half-closed eyes. His entire stance as he leaned against the sink, arms folded, ankles crossed and pushed out in front of him, radiated a calm, cool, and disinterested façade. I knew he was anything but. Lucas Alexander was never so focused, so intense, or so stealthy as when he appeared exactly the opposite.

His ability to remain calm and unreadable was another facet of his personality I loved.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked me. “What are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried.”

“You say one thing, but your body language says another.”

I rolled my eyes. “My body language says nothing. There’s no reason for me to be worried about anything since Slade and Mac are going to be with you, Lucas. Whatever you wind up doing, I know they’ll be safe. I’m asking because, like my sisters are fond of saying, I inherited Nanny’s nosy gene.”

His brows pulled together between his eyes and that head tilt shifted.

“What do you mean you’re not worried because they’ll be with me? And what did that crack about me never running amuck mean? Jesus.” He unfurled his arms and swiped his hands through his hair at the temples. “I’ve said amuck more times than I’ve ever said it in my life.”

“That’s a dumb question, since you’re the chief of police.” I held my hands up at my sides. “You’re the most responsible and trustworthy human being I know. You don’t do anything that crosses a line either morally, ethically, or legally. I’ve seen you drunk once in your life after Danny’s funeral, and you deserved to be since you’d just lost your best friend. You’re dependable, Lucas. Completely.”

It was a wonder he didn’t get a headache from the way the skin over his forehead puckered inward.

“Dependable and trustworthy? You make me sound like a cub scout, or an unemotional robot with a stick up his ass. Dull and boring. Like I don’t know how to have a good time and never do.”

“I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure since you became chief, you’re more aware than ever of the small minds and big mouths living in this town. You can’t be seen doing anything”—I shook my head again— “questionable or unseemly, like getting drunk in public at a bachelor party. You need to be on the safe side of gossip at all times. And you are. It’s what makes you such a good leader.”

“Unseemly? Lord, Maureen. Now you’re making me sound like a modern version of Josiah Heaven. You gonna accuse me of having a God complex next?”

How the heck had this conversation veered into him thinking I was comparing him to our town founder?

“What?” I fisted my hands on my hips, well and truly confused and getting irritated by the second. “Weren’t you the one who told my sister in that very breezeway”—I pointed behind me—“not more than two hours ago you weren’t going to condone anything illegal because, quote, you’re the chief of police, unquote? I don’t think I imagined it, Lucas.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard me.

“I’m not old and tired and worn out yet, you know.” He started pacing back and forth, his hands slung in his trouser pockets.

“I never said you were. I—”

“I’ve got responsibilities to this town and its citizens, Maureen. I’m on call twenty-four hours a day for the city. Never a day to myself, never a night to call my own. Christ. I had to promise Pete Bergeron three weekends in a row off in order to be free Saturday night.”

“Lucas, what—”

“I haven’t had a vacation in six years. In addition, I take care of a man who wants nothing more than to die and finds it amusing to take pot shots at my son.”

For the first time in my memory, Lucas’s voice rose. He was always the proverbial calm during a crisis, the one everyone gravitated to for guidance, the man people regarded as a natural leader.

It dawned on me he wasn’t simply tired, but exhausted. And not only physically. The weight of all the responsibilities he carried on those strong, broad shoulders was taking its toll, and he had no one in his life to help shoulder them.

Placing myself straight in front of him, I barred his pacing. I reached out, wrapped a hand around his forearm, and pressed, forcing him to pay attention to me.

He blinked hard a few times, as if coming awake after a deep sleep. The confusion in his eyes worried me.

“Lucas. Stop.”

He focused in on me, then to where I held his arm. When he lifted his gaze back to me, his forehead was furrowed. “Maureen?”

I squeezed his arm again. “Are you okay?”
 He tilted his head to one side while he continued to stare at me for a few beats.
“I’m worried about you,” I told him.

“Worried?”

“Yes. You’re being”—I shrugged then shook my head—“weird. And you’re scaring me.”

He blinked a few times. “You’re worried about me?”

“Yes, dammit.” I stamped my foot, frustrated and getting mad, now. “I care about you, and I’m worried because you’re acting so out of character. What about that is so hard to comprehend?”

I removed my hand from his arm, only to have him grab it back with his own.

“Let go of m—” I stopped dead. One look at the expression on his face and any and all words were forgotten. The confusion reeling in his eyes shifted, cleared, then flew completely to be replaced by a piercing, all consuming…hunger.

Intrigued? I hope so. You can preorder your ecopy here, now: BWL

And if you’d like a PRINT version before the book is released, I’m selling them on my website store for a drastically reduced price, here: STORE

And not to brag ( even though I am) Long and Short Reviews gave BAKED WITH LOVE a BEST BOOK RATING.

Love that!!!

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NaNoWriMo 2020 – the year of Covid-writing…maybe

I know…we’re already 9 days into November and NANOWRIMO started on 11.1.2020.

I started on that day, too, I’ve just been too busy to post about joining again this year. And what was I so busy doing, you ask??

WRITING!!! of course!! heehee

This will be my 8th year in a row participating and every single year the book I’ve gotten into first draft during Nano has gone on to be published!! I think that’s so cool, don’t you?

The 2019 book I penned during November is actually releasing on 12.9.202o, and this Wednesday, on my blog, I’ve got the official cover reveal for BAKED WITH LOVE ( A Match Made in Heaven, book 3). I can’t wait for you all to see the cover and read the story. It was such a cathartic write for me and I’m so happy I get to share it for the holiday’s this year.

For a peek at the project from last year, click here: Nano2019

The cover you’ll see was a mock-up I used as a visualization of what I wanted. Check back in here this Wednesday when the real cover will be revealed for the first time.

This year, I’m drafting book 2 in the PRIDE OF BROTHERS, series. This book concerns Keane brother AIDEN and I’m having a ball writing it. Two mismatched characters who have to come together to solve a murder. Woot!! Here’s sneak peek:  Nano2020

And just so you know, the cover for that book is a mock up, too.

If you’re a writer are you participating in NANOWRIMO this year? If so, I wish you luck, focus, and a healthy WIN on November 30th!

Be well, peeps and check back this Wednesday to see the BAKED WITH LOVE cover!

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It’s my turn over on the #RomanceGems….

 

It may be August, but I’ve got my sights set on a colder month….come find out what it’s all about, today, on the Romance Gems blog

And you can find me, here:   Follow me……

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Cover reveal for MARASCHINO MARRIAGE PACT from Tamela Miles #OneScoopOrTwo #WRPbks

I’ve got another great book cover reveal today from the much-loved One Scoop or Two Series from Wild Rose Press.

My talented WRP sistah, Tamela Miles’ addition to the series is the MARASCHINO MARRIAGE PACT and this cover, peeps, is hot hot hot!

Get a gander at it:

I’m thinking this book is going on the TBR pile immediately!!!

Here’s a little about it…

Blurb:

Mikayla DiAngelis has spent the past two years traveling the world and avoiding the demands of her overbearing warlock father. A confusing kiss from her former bodyguard is yet another reason for her to stay two steps ahead on the run.

Warlock bodyguard Austin Luca will stop at nothing to bring Mikayla home. His loyalty belongs to her family, but his heart belongs to her, even though he has ties that bind him to his own family responsibilities.

Their encounter was inevitable, and Mikayla is soon caught up in Austin’s passion and the world she vowed to leave behind. Will surrendering to her former protector cost her the freedom she needs?

Excerpt:

“You know better than to use your magick in public, Mikayla. What if I was some ordinary human passerby?”

Mikayla froze midmotion. That deep, amused drawl had been with her since she was a child. She slowly turned around, scowling. “I knew I shouldn’t have come back here for the summer. Am I that obvious, Austin?”

The tall, leanly muscled man with straight dark hair and piercing chocolate-brown eyes shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I lost track of you last year in Rome. Kudos for managing to give me the slip, considering I taught you every trick you know. I bet on your sentimentality about this place bringing you back.” He gestured at the skimpy black sundress she wore. “You’re looking well.”

She nodded. “Thank you. You haven’t changed. You never do. Why can’t every warlock age as gracefully as you do?” Sighing heavily, she placed her hands on her hips. “If you tell me again to come home, I’m hopping off this pier.”

His face shuttered. “I have news about your family, Mikayla. This time, it’s serious.”

Buy Links: Coming soon, with the release date

A little about Tamela Miles….

Tamela Miles is a school psychologist with Ed.S and PPS credential and a graduate of California State University San Bernardino and California State University Dominguez Hills. She is also a former flight attendant. She grew up in Altadena, California in that tumultuous time known as the 1980s. She now resides with her family in the Inland Empire, CA. She’s a horror/paranormal romance writer mainly because it feels so good having her characters do bad things and, later, pondering what makes them so bad and why they can never seem to change their wicked ways.

She enjoys emails from people who like her work. In fact, she loves emails. She can be contacted at tamelamiles@yahoo.com or her Facebook page, Tamela Miles Books. She also welcomes reader reviews and enjoys the feedback from people who love to read as much as she does.

You can connect with Tamela here:

Twitter // Instagram // Facebook // All Author Page

 

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#tuesdayTeaser 8.4.2020 – WIP

In order to be a real tease(r) I figured I give you a taste of the Christmas book I’m releasing independently this year. It’s in final edits and I don’t have a cover yet, but I finally decided on a title after putting up a poll on my facebook page : MISTLETOE, MOBSTERS, & MOZZARELLA. Just from that you can surmise it’s a RomCom!

Here’s the burb, then the little tease from between the pages:

Finding a body in the freezer of the family deli isn’t the way Madonna San Valentino planned to start her day.

Adding insult to injury, the investigating detective is the one guy she’s never been able to forget. After seven minutes of heaven in the back seat of his car when they were teenagers, Tony Roma skipped town without so much as a thanks for the memory.

Just when Madonna thinks the present situation can’t get any worse, Tony is ordered to go undercover at the deli to ferret out a killer. Forced to work together, she vows to keep their relationship cool and professional. But with the sexy, longing looks he tosses her at every turn, Madonna’s resolve is weakening.

With Christmas drawing closer and Tony’s investigation taking an unexpected turn, Madonna is at her wit’s end. Can she really be falling for him again? And will he wind up leaving her broken hearted and alone like the last time?

Advice for surviving in a big Italian family: Family comes first, last, and always. No excuses.

I sent up a prayer to St. John the Silent in the hope it would keep my father from divulging what Tony had informed us about Chico. I should have saved myself the trouble because with no thought to the promise he’d given the good detective, my father vomited everything up to my uncles.

Christ on the cross, what a mess,” Joey said, rubbing his fingers over his eyebrows.

“I heard’a this piece’a work, Archetti,” Sonny said after sipping his espresso. “Low-level drug scum. Got shanked. Good riddance.”

I was cut short from adding something when my mother blasted into the room.

And that’s not an exaggeration.

Grace Liliana Chicollini San Valentino is a force of nature. There’s really no other way to describe her.

At five foot eight, she towers above all her siblings, leading some in the family to ponder if nonna had done the nasty with the milkman when nonno was off fighting the Fascists. She’d been born and blessed with the northern Italian DNA of fair hair, blue eyes, and light skin, unlike my father’s Sicilian genes, which were dark, dark, and darker. I’d always considered it a crime against nature my brothers all took after my mother while I got the lion’s share of Daddy’s genetic makeup.

At sixty, my mother appeared ten years younger in any light. Nary a line warped her skin, due to the religious rubbing of extra virgin olive oil she applied to her face and neck nightly. When I’d been a little girl and plagued with night terrors, the familiar smell of my mother’s skin while she hugged me, soothed away the fears. It’s probably the reason to this day pizza or pasta dripping in oil still calms my soul.

What it does to my ass is another story entirely.

My mother has miraculously kept the figure she’d been gifted with when she sailed through her teen years, even after birthing six kids. Breasts like a screen siren’s, a tiny waist, and hips built for pregnancy, my mother’s silhouette is a classic hourglass and she still dresses in ways that accentuate her assets. The movie star bombshells of Hollywood’s heyday have nothing on my mama for natural sexiness.

As a teen, being her daughter hadn’t been easy. My brother’s friends all fell in pubescent lust with mama. Standing next to her I paled in the female comparison department and looked more like another of her sons than her darling daughter.

But she had a heart of gold and when she loved you it was for life. That military expression I’ve got your six could have been devised for mama because no matter what stupid things my brothers had done, any trouble they’d gotten into, and even through my turbulent and emotional teen years, she’d always had our backs.

“Louie. Louie,” she shouted as she blew like a sirocco into the room. “I just heard from Frankie about a dead guy at the store. Mi amore! Your heart. Are you okay? You ain’t hurt are ya?”

She flung her fur coat off and it landed on the floor in a heap behind her. Wrapping her arms around my father, who’d stood the moment her worried voice boomed through the back door, she cried, “Are you okay?” She ran her hands over his head, down his shoulders, to his chest, her gaze raking along with her movements, making sure all his parts were intact and he wasn’t spouting arterial blood.

My father, ever calm and controlled, took her hands with his and brought them both to his lips. After he kissed each one he continued to hold them as he told her, “I’m fine, Gracie. I’m okay. It was Donna who found Chico, not me. And he was already dead.”

My mother whipped her head in my direction. With her forehead a mass of furrows and her eyes pinched at the corners, she pulled a hand from my father’s grip and grabbed my arm. “You okay, bambina?”

I squeezed her hand and nodded. Then, without any warning, an unusual need to fall into her arms and cry overcame me. When a sob escaped me full-force, she pulled out of my father’s hold, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth, grabbed me, and hauled me against her chest, my nose crushing into her well-supported cleavage.

Her arms were like steel traps and she kept me glued to her body while she rubbed my back and cooed in Italian. A quick whiff of her knock-off L’air du temps combined with a hint of garlic and I closed my eyes as the tears fell.

I’m not gonna lie: as a thirty-four year old, grown-ass woman, nothing made me feel better when I was off-kilter than when my mama held me in her arms. I’m not one iota ashamed or embarrassed to admit it.

As I cleaved to her she asked my father, “You’re sure you’re okay?” He told her he was, then, “Why don’t you take Donna into the kitchen, mi amore? Get her something hot to drink. It’s been a long morning for her.”

My mother nodded then slipped an arm up and around my shoulders. “Come on, bambina. Let the boys talk.”

I allowed her to propel me into the kitchen she’d had remodeled the year before.

“Sit.” She pointed to one of the breakfast bar chairs.

I grabbed a paper napkin from the holder on the marble topped counter, did as she commanded and sat, then swiped at my wet eyes.

This is mama’s domain. Daddy may run a successful deli and is an amazing cook in his own right, but Mama rules the kitchen in our house. When nonna was alive she could be very stingy with any kind of praise, but she always complimented my mother on her cooking skills, honed—of course—at nonna’s knee.

Moving with the finesse of one who knows where every single item is to be found in her world, Mama filled the teakettle then put it on the ceramic-topped stove to boil. She didn’t even look when she reached into one of the cupboards and pulled down two porcelain cups with one hand, the other disappearing into one of the pottery containers on the counter that held the teabags.

I sat, silent, watching her move with efficiency from one task to the other, and marveled as I’d done my entire life at what a dichotomy she was. While she had the body of a pampered goddess and could cook like one of the world’s finest Italian chefs, she wasn’t – what my Uncle Sonny often remarked – the sharpest tool in the drawer. I’d always thought this was mean, but in reality, it was God’s truth. My mother wasn’t a member of Mensa – not even close—and on any given day she was known to pop out with things that made most of us cringe or she’d ask a question a bit too intrusive for the person being asked. She had a habit of saying exactly what came to the front of her mind at any given moment with no regard to filtering it. This was one of the reasons my father never let her work in the deli. She couldn’t be trusted around the customers to self-censor. But, despite this one flaw, he adored her, as did I.

She reached into the cabinet under the sink and grabbed the bottle of brandy she kept there for emergencies. When my nonna had been alive, the bottle had gotten a great deal of use, especially after one of her visits. Mama poured way more than a shot-glass full into my teacup after adding the boiling water. She let it steep for less than a minute then handed it to me.

“Drink this. And then tell me everything ‘cause I know your daddy won’t. He’ll gloss over details thinking he’s protecting me.” She waved a hand in the air with a dismissive flick.

Intrigued? More to come when I have a cover, but I’m thinking an October release. I’ll let ya know.

Until next time, peeps ~ Peg

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A Christmas in July WIP to talk about….

Since we are officially halfway done with this horrendous year and the Christmas holidays are a scant 173 days away, I figured now would be a good time to jump on the Christmas in July bandwagon and talk up my soon-to-be-released 2020 Christmas Romance.

Nothing like a little self promotion to the start the week with, no? Hee hee

So, the title of the book is MISTLETOE, MOBSTERS & MOZZARELLA and takes place a month before, and leading up to, Christmas. This book was written, for the most part, prior to the Covid 19 pandemic that seems to be changing the world in every conceivable way, but I did not include any mention of it in the book because….I didn’t want to. It’s that simple.

Here’s the working blurb for right now – I may change it a bit as I get closer to publication:

Finding a body in the freezer of the family deli isn’t the way Madonna San Valentino planned to start her day.

Adding insult to injury, the investigating detective is the one guy she’s never been able to forget. After seven minutes of heaven in the back seat of his car when they were teenagers, Tony Roma skipped town without so much as a thanks for the memory.

Just when Madonna thinks the present situation can’t get any worse, Tony is ordered to go undercover at the deli to ferret out the killer. Forced to work together, she vows to keep their relationship cool and professional. But with the sexy, longing looks he tosses her at every turn, Madonna’s resolve is starting to weaken.

With Christmas drawing closer and Tony’s investigation taking an unexpected turn, Madonna is at her wit’s end. Can she really be falling for him again? And will he windup leaving her broken hearted and alone like the last time?

It’s a RomCom and even though there’s a murder and an investigation within the plot line, the majority of the story is about these two, their feelings for one another, and family.

When I have the cover you know I’ll share it! Stay tuned in the coming months for teasers and snippets.

Until next time, peeps ~ Peg

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#TeaserTuesday 6.9.2020

It’s fun taking a fairy tale and reworking it. That’s what I tried to do in my Limitless book Dirty Damsels, and in my indie book WOKE, which releases into the book reading world on 7.1.2020.

In WOKE, I took the premise of Sleeping Beauty and modernized it. This sleeping beauty isn’t waiting for love’s first kiss to awaken her, though. She’s a modern woman who’s grabbing life by the proverbial reins and forging her future.

In today’s Teaser Tuesday, A.J. explains a little about her life, after waking up.

When I’d first woken from ten years of immobility, the muscles in my legs had given me the most difficulty. I was confined to a wheelchair for the first six months, unable to lift to a standing position without help. When I was upright, my legs were too weak to support me. Sam and his team had worked tirelessly day after day to build my upper body strength to some semblance of normal. Once my arms were stronger and I could lift myself I was able to use a walker on my own to help my legs get back their strength.

More nights that I could stand to remember I’d broken down, frustrated at my lack of progress and in serious pain. Maeve and my mother had brokered no whining, though, reminding me often that I was a fifth generation Brightwell and strength and intestinal fortitude were our bedrocks. Maeve had massaged my aching muscles while my mother had become an expert on nutrition and health management.

My coma had been caused by an allergic reaction to the drugs I’d been given, so I was unable to take any prescribed meds for the almost continual pain. I learned to grit my teeth and work through it with Maeve and mom’s help, and today I was relatively pain free.

There’s something to be said for generational fortitude and grit, I suppose.

Intrigued? The ecopy is on preorder here, now. If you like a print book, for some reason Amazon has made that available already, here.

And because I love PINTEREST so much, WOKE has it’s very own board, here

You might like these other modernized fairy tales as well…

Dirty Damsels

What if Cynderella had a one-night stand with a man named Prince? When I first saw Cynderella all covered in soot in that sexy maid uniform, I knew I wanted to be her Prince.She’s a smart and savvy businesswoman who’s built her cleaning company from the ground up. But now that Dirty Damsels was booming, I’ve been hired to arrange a hostile takeover. But the temptation of having her was too much to ignore… We ended up spending one night together–a night neither of us will forget. Now, I want more. I need more. I want to spend every night, skin-on-skin, with my beautiful Ella. Problem is, when she finds out who I really am, she’ll never forgive me.

It’a A Trust Thing

Nell Newbery has trust issues. It’s hard to trust when you’re the daughter of a fallen financial scion who bilked people out of billions. Nell’s done everything in her power to keep away from men who see her as their ticket to fortune and fame. All she wants to do is run her ultra-successful business, HELPFUL HUNKS, in peace.

But it wouldn’t hurt to find a guy who doesn’t know a thing about her father’s felonious past; one she can give her heart to and trust it won’t come back to her battered, bruised, and broken.

Is Charlie Churchill that guy? On the surface he seems perfect, all polished manners and quiet mirth. Nell’s convinced he knows nothing about her, other than she likes superhero movies and views junk food as a food group.

Can she trust him to be what he appears to be? Or is he just pretending?

For Nell, trust is everything in life…and in love.

Until next time, peeps ~ Peg

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