Tag Archives: Contemporary Romance

Sadira Stone on Love, Art, and Other Obstacles

One of my favorite Wild Rose Press writers, Sadira Stone, has a new book out titled  Love, Art, and Other Obstacles. Isn’t that an amazeballs title?? I love it. I’ve already got it preordered on my Kindle and I can’t wait to dive in. And as an added bonus – the book is ON SALE for $2.99 from May 18th until the 29th!

Sadira very graciously offered to share a little about the book with you all, so sit back and get ready for a sexy treat!

 

 

She’s a free spirit. He’s a one-woman man.

Blurb:

Rejected by her family for her bisexuality, graphic artist Margot DuPont yearns for a life with no fences, no limits, and no family ties. Between college, work at Book Nirvana, and an art competition, she barely has time for her part-time girlfriend, much less a flirtation with her competitor.

Dumped into the foster system at a young age, ceramics artist Elmer Byrne craves a big, loving family of the heart. His artist family almost fills that need, but something is missing…until Margot. But when he offers his heart, her thorny defenses shatter him.

Thrown together in an art competition that could jump-start one artist’s career, but not both, their irresistible attraction forces them to reconsider the meaning of success.

Excerpt

That fuzzy, flame-colored beard of his must tickle. What would it feel like brushing against her breasts, over her belly, between her thighs?

She bit her lip hard. Too much time in the red room.

The guy turned toward her and grinned. Was it just her imagination, or did his eyes flash when they met hers? Warm hazel eyes, thickly lashed and sparkling with playful energy.

A happy little vibration rose from her belly and twitched the corners of her mouth upward—until she recognized him.

Oh, yuck. This guy. She’d seen him hanging around the shop, flirting with Laurel, all swaggering, macho bullshit. She remembered how Doug, Laurel’s boyfriend, had tensed like an angry stork and glared at the shorter, buffer man.

 Maxie waved. “Margot, you remember Elmer? He gave me a ride.” She nudged him with her bony elbow. “Isn’t he cute?”

Real cute. And he knows it.

“How’s it going, Margot?” His grin widened as his gaze flicked down her body and back up.

Creep.

No way to avoid his extended hand without offending Maxie, so she took it. Warm, calloused, his grip firm but not too tight. A tattoo of a foaming beer mug adorned the back of his hand. Beneath the copper hair on his forearm, pretty muscles flexed.

 Feet on the ground, DuPont. You’ve got no time for flirtatious fuzz-beards.

Maxie’s merry gaze flicked from Elmer to Margot. “He’s exhibiting at the Rainbow Center on Saturday.” She grinned up at Elmer. “Margot helped Laurel design that poster for the art show.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s your work? Really nice.”

She shook her head. “It’s Laurel’s work. I just helped her with the graphic design software.”

“Graphic design? Like ads and words and stuff?”

She curled her lip and prepared for battle with yet another snooty artist who looked down his precious nose at graphic arts, like nothing with words or photos could ever count as real art. “I make stuff everyone sees, not just rich people in art galleries.” She stepped closer, glaring up into his startled face while she ticked off on her fingers. “Posters for community events, book covers, the logo for this shop, and its website and signage and—”

He raised both hands and backed off a few steps. “Relax, angry elf. I wasn’t putting down your work, okay? I said I liked the poster. Jeesh.”

Maxie’s painted-on auburn brows rumpled. “Margot, I’m surprised at you.”

That stung. She lowered her gaze and shuffled her boots. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of snobby artists.”

He crossed athletic arms over his impressive pecs. “I’m not one of them.”

Her cheeks flushed hot. “Okay, cool. Sorry. So, um, what are you exhibiting at the show?”

“Ceramics. Beer steins, mostly. Donated a dozen to the Rainbow Arts Center.” He winked, her dig seemingly forgotten. “If someone likes my stuff, maybe they’ll order a complete set.”

Beer mugs. Definitely not snooty. Embarrassment drilled deeper into her skull.

The pretty potter smooched Maxie’s cheek. “Well, gotta shove off. Max, I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday. Ladies.” He pantomimed lifting a hat brim, then ambled toward the door.

Maxie prodded Margot’s boot with her cane. “Why’d you bite his head off? He’s a nice boy. You should ask him out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Max, I’m not looking to date right now. Especially not that guy.”

“What’s wrong with Elmer?”

“I’ve seen him in action. He flirts for sport. I’m not gonna be anyone’s plaything.”

The doorway bell tinkled as Elmer strolled through. Laurel looked up from wiping the counter. “You want to wait in the café, Aunt Maxie? I’ll be done in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, doll.” Maxie tottered toward the coffee shop next door.

Margot moved behind the counter and watched through the plate-glass window as Elmer crossed the street and unlocked his rust-bucket pickup. “Pain in the ass, isn’t he?” Nice ass, though. Firm and crunchy.

Laurel chuckled. “Oh, he’s not so bad. I think he just flirts out of habit, like some people nibble their nails or twiddle their hair.” She turned away to straighten a pile of flyers. “Margot, do you—um…”

“What?”

“Do you date guys?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes. Why?”

“On his way out, he asked about you.”

“Oh, so I should date him, get him off your back?” She scrubbed her fingers through her hair. “No thanks.”

“Well, I hope you’ll come to the art show anyway. I’m running the race at ten, but I’ll help with the set-up beforehand.” She cracked a crooked smile. “I’ll do my best to corral Elmer. Gotta warn you, though—if he sets his mind on you, he’s persistent.”

“Don’t worry.” She shoved a hand through her spiky hair. “I can handle pushy guys. I know how to push back.”

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53105312-love-art-and-other-obstacles

Get your very own copy here: 

Amazon        Barnes & Noble    Apple Books     Kobo       Google Play

A little about Sadira Stone

Ever since her first kiss, Sadira’s been spinning steamy tales in her head. After leaving her teaching career in Germany, she finally tried her hand at writing one. Now she’s a happy citizen of Romancelandia, penning contemporary romance from her new home in Washington State, U.S.A. When not writing, which is seldom, she explores the Pacific Northwest with her charming husband, enjoys the local music scene, plays darts (pretty well), plays guitar (badly), and gobbles all the books. Visit Sadira at www.sadirastone.com .

 

Inspiration for the Book Nirvana Series:

Until 2016, I was one of those readers—literary snobs who look down their noses at romance for the usual stupid reasons: too corny, too predictable, too fluffy. Then I read about how fun and lucrative writing erotica can be. I thought, what the heck? Let’s try.

I have never had so much fun with a writing project! My first steamy romance, Through the Red Door, nearly wrote itself, though it damn sure didn’t edit itself. Now I’m totally addicted to passionate, heartfelt stories with happy endings, both as a reader and as a writer.

Why set the series in a bookshop? Ever since I was a wee lass, I dreamed of owning one. Add to that my fascination with historical erotic art and literature, and you’ve got the Book Nirvana series, set in an indie bookshop with an extensive erotica collection behind a locked red door.

I love writing stories in which a couple’s powerful physical attraction leads them to consider a partner outside their usual M.O.—one who just might turn out to be their perfect match. That’s how it happened for my husband and me!

I wanted to set my series in a college town, so I chose Eugene, home of the University of Oregon, with its lively arts scene and rich counterculture legacy from the hippie era. It’s now my favorite Oregon town to visit!

Sign up for Sadira’s quarterly email newsletter for freebies, news about upcoming books, and some really bad romance jokes!

Visit Sadira on All the Socials her

Author Website   Facebook   Twitter Goodreads   Bookbub   Amazon Author Page   Pinterest   Instagram   Author Newsletter

 

 

 

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#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

#1stLineFriday Can’t Stand the Heat 3.1.19

“I can’t believe I let Teddy Davis talk me into this,” Stacy Peters mumbled as she rifled through her underwear drawer.

In Peggy Jaeger’s delectable series, delicious food is just an appetizer for life’s main course: the kind of love that feeds your soul. 
 
With three successful TV series under her belt, including her cousin Kandy’s, executive producer Stacy Peters is ready to helm her own show. But to make that happen, she has to do her network boss one favor first—spend two months on a ranch in Montana wrangling the notoriously difficult director of Beef Battles. Apparently, he eats producers for breakfast. Yet all Stacy can think when she meets the lean, rugged man is how hungry he makes her . . .

Dominic Stamp—Nikko to his very few friends—has had enough interference from TV newbies. And when Stacy climbs out of the car in Montana, he’s not convinced she’s even old enough to drive, much less produce his show. But he can’t deny that the long-legged blonde with the stubborn will and the dazzling smile whets his appetite. And as Stacy proves her talent with the crew and the budget alike, Nikko vows to prove to her that love is on the menu for both of them . . .

Get your copy here:

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

And you can connect with 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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#SundaySnippet 2.24.19 A Shot at Love

When I set out to write A SHOT AT LOVE I wanted to write my first bad-ass heroine. Gemma Laine jumped to the head of the line in my head and exploded on the page. She’s the type of gal I’d want in my corner if I was ever kidnapped by terrorists, if I was walking down a  dark and deserted street at night, and if I ever needed someone to -literally – cover my 6 ( Gibbs reference there, peeps!) This scene proves what a warrior she is.

“How many do I have to hit for you to be satisfied?”

Ky looked over to where she stood at the side of the garage, the Glock in her hand, its barrel aimed at the ground. Her eyes had gone wide at the hidden supply of weapons Bannerman had in the pantry access room, but her only comment had been a muttered, “Why am I not surprised?” before she’d made her choice.

He’d watched her load the clip, then weigh and balance the gun in her hand like she did it every day of her life.

“This’ll do,” she told him.

He found a box of empty beer and wine bottles in the garage and set them up at varying distances from where he’d told her to stand. He wanted to ensure she was comfortable shooting up close and far.

“All of them.” He came and stood next to her.

“Are you kidding? All of them?”

“You might never get a second chance if a first bullet misses an attacker, so yes. All of them.”

She moved to the line in the grass he’d drawn for her to shoot from, mumbling something he couldn’t hear, but guessing it wasn’t something complimentary.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yup. Any particular order you want me to hit them in?”

He had to bite back the grin threatening to fly free at her snooty, disgruntled tone.
“Your call.”

Gemma nodded and planted her feet. He wasn’t surprised when she angled her body with one foot slightly behind the other in a Weaver stance—a more aggressive, weight-forward position—and not the triangular, or Isosceles stance. Gemma held her gun up to her face, lining up her shot, both elbows bent and close to her torso. Her brother-in-law, Josh, had been a New York City cop, and if he’d taught her to shoot, it made sense he’d taught her this way. Although the Isosceles stance was the more popular, Ky knew the Weaver was a power stance, and Gemma was a woman for whom power could have been a middle name.

She flexed her shoulders and neck, the motion so subtly erotic, it made his pulse quicken, and shifted her weight. From his viewing position behind her, he appreciated just how tall and lean she was. Narrow shoulders were relaxed and tapered down into a waist no bigger than a hand span. How many times in the past few days had he thought what it would be like to slip his own hands around that tiny area and pull her in close? Too many for prudence, that was for sure.

The first bottle, the one he’d placed the farthest from them, shattered into a thousand fragments. Before he could take a full breath, she’d hit the next two.

The final three closer ones she dispatched with equal ease.

When she turned to him and asked, “Satisfied?” in a tone filled with condescension, Ky had to physically restrain himself from running to her, lifting her up in his arms, and kissing the gorgeous smirk off her mouth.

Because he’d discovered how much he liked sparring with her—go figure that out—he pursed his lips and nodded. “Not bad.”

Gemma’s smirk grew into a self-satisfied grin.

“But they were all stationary targets. Really adept shooters practice with moving targets, so I really can’t gauge how well you’ll do with that. But for now, you’ll do.”

The squinty-eyed glare she aimed at him would have made a lesser man run for the hills.

“Trust me.” She dropped the empty cartridge case from the weapon into her free hand. “I can shoot those as well.”

He handed her another clip and watched as she loaded it.

“Let’s hope you never have to prove it to me.”

Gemma slapped the cartridge in place. Ky handed her a holster and waited until she fastened it around her waist.

After tightening it, she secured the gun in place, dropped her hands on her hips and asked, “Can we go now?”

She looked like a warrior armed for battle. Strong, self-possessed, and so bad-assed sexy standing in front of him, her bangs blowing back from the slight breeze surrounding them, her perfect chin tilted up defiantly.

He could imagine her leading an army into a crusade against evil, each soldier following her blindly, minions pledged to fight for her, perhaps die for her without hesitation.

And he’d be one of them.
“Sure. Get your camera. I’ll secure the house.”

Intrigued for more? You can purchase a copy in print or ebook here:

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

Goodreads Reviews for A SHOT AT LOVE

Want to read a preview? Click 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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#CharacterNames #L&SR #WednesdayBlogChallenge 1.30.19

So the prompt this week is Characters I’d name a baby after. Great idea, no?

So why am I having so much trouble with it??

Here’s what I do know – characters I wouldn’t name a baby under any circumstances:

Boys first: Christian, Addicus, Ashley, Rhett, Fitzwilliam, Tom, Marvin, Bruce, Elvis

Girls next: Scarlett, Melanie, Lisbeth,  Portia, Juliette, Mulva, Hermione, Anastasia, Scout

Those names are so recognizable, and some of them are iconic, that I fear the poor child would be doomed to always being compared to his/her fictional counterparts.

 

 

 

Can you imagine a tomboy named Scarlett? Or a WWF fighter named Ashley?

I can’t either, but maybe to other writers, those would be perfect character names for their mismatched personality-typed characters.

But not for me. I like ethic names for my characters to enhance their heritage. I like naming my characters after their fictional grandparents or great aunts and uncles. I like the idea of family names and nicknames, like number-naming. You know what I mean: Harry is  grandpa, Pop in H-Two, grandson in called Trey ( for third). I know this is quirky, but I love it.

So I guess I’d better get to the actual prompt for today. Characters I’d name a baby after.

Girls first this time: Isabella, Jane, Nora, Eve

 

Boys next: Roarke, Dylan, Edward, Sonny

Since this is a blog challenge, here’s where you can find other authors who are participating and get their take on character baby names: L&SR WednesdayBlogging Challenge.

And if you’re looking for me, I’ll be busy naming my characters here: 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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#1stLineFriday 1.25.19

Carly Lennox strode into the television studio armed with the self-confidence she’d been born with.

THE VOICES OF ANGELS, The MacQuire Women, book 4

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.

Amazon // Wild Rose Press // B&N // Kobo // Walmart // Books-a-million // Google Play 

Also available on AUDIBLE: 

Find your bliss today, peeps, and let your beauty shine.

And you know I’m always here if you need me:

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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#1stLineFriday

I’m trying something a little new each week on Fridays, #1stLineFriday. Each week I’ll post the first line from one of my books. Today’s line is from my first book in my new bridal series A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN, DEARLY BELOVED.

“9-1-1! Colleen, I’ve got a 9-1-1 in the Bawl Room!”

For those of you who grew up Catholic, especially from the 50’s to the 80’s, you’re gonna know exactly where this 911 is originating from in a church!

Get your copy here:

amazon //wild rose press // b&n // kobo // apple // google play // books-a-million

and find ME, here:

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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#Top10Finisher! Love this.

Just found this!!! so Stoked. Here’s the link: P&E

CHRISTMAS & CANNOLIS finished #6. YOWZA!!!!!

What a nice way to finish up a busy Tuesday, no?

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Filed under Contemporary Romance, Romance, The Laine Women, WIld Rose Press AUthor

The tour continues….

Today, I’ve got a really great interview over on BOOKAHOLIC all about how CHRISTMAS AND CANNOLIS came to be written. Stop by and discover some stuff about the book – and my weird writing process! There’s a rafflecopter!

Here’s the link to the interview  :Bookaholic: Peggy Jaeger Interview https://www.ourtownbookreviews.com/p/what-made-you-want-towrite-this-book_14.html?spref=tw

And the link to the rafflecopter

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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A look ahead….

Seems appropriate that I title this one a look ahead when the last blog was about looking back.

I’m nothing if not consistent, peeps. Hee hee

I’ve got some career goals for 2019 that I want to accomplish, in addition to some personal ones that need doing, as well.

First, a little backstory. This is me, afterall.

In November 2018 you  may remember I attended a conference where Jack Canfield was the primary speaker. He spoke about many things – all of them wonderful – but one thing he said stuck with me and resounded so completely, I’ve already begun putting its intention into use. Jack said, “You can’t have an uncluttered, focused life and mind, if your workspace and environment is cluttered, filled with detritus, and unfocused.”

Can I just tell you how that was a Come to Jesus moment for me?!

Since the day I arrived home from that conference I have been culling, cleaning, reorganizing, and reprioritizing my life, my environment, and my workspace. I started with the closets. All 15 of them. I’ve moved on to the bedrooms. After that, the kitchen, bathrooms, and then the living spaces will all be refreshed, culled of unnecessary items, and cleaned.

Yes, it’s exhausting work, and yes I find myself stopping at times to remember why I have this object, or obsess about whether or not I still need it – just in case! But then I remember what the point of this exercise in selective personal item culling is all about and I get on with it.

So, everything should be done by 12.31.18

On 1.1.19, in my newly refreshed, reorganized and restructured workplace/office, I will being writing the next 2 books on my TBWritten list and start planning out the next 3.

About those goals for 2019: here they are, in no apparent order.

1.Write a minimum of 1000 words before you start your actual day – what this means is that while I’m still in jammies, I write, Once 1000 words is achieved I get to get dressed, and do the adulting things I need to – like gym, laundry, etc. When they are done, I can write more.

2. Finish 2 complete manuscripts in 2019; have 2 published that are already completed.

3.Meditate for 20 minutes every day. No excuses. No matter what.

4. Gym 4-6 times per week.

5. Eat better, and by better I mean, cut out the crap!!

6. Blog no more than 2-3 times per week. I blogged upwards of 5 times a week in 2018 and it just got to be too much for me.

7. Perform daily aspirations re: career goals and personal issues. – these are private, so don’t ask!

I think that’s a good start, don’t you. We’ll see how far they get, which ones drop off by the wayside, and which ones become habits-for-life.

The happiest of New Years, peeps. ~Peg

If you’re looking for me while I’m culling, here I am: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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