Tag Archives: Limitless Publishing

A little #sneakpeek at DIRTY DAMSELS

I’ve got a new book release going livelivelive on July 2 – just in time for Summer Beach Reading season. While my cover is being finalized by the talented graphic artists at Limitless Publications  I’ve been doing a little graphic work of my own and have made some Book “Teasers” to share to get people interested in the book. Remember that Influencer post from yesterday, peeps? Hee hee

Here are some of the graphics I designed:

I’m kinda proud of myself, you know? I deal in words, not pictures, so for me to make these was hard work and made me use creative muscles I’m not used to using.

Once the cover is set in stone, I’ll share that, along with preorder links. Just know for now the Publication date is 7.2.19 and the pre-order date will probably be about a week earlier.

I’ll keep in touch, never fear!

~Until next time…. ~Peg

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Filed under Dirty Damsels, Dot Com Girls Romance, Limitless Publishing

#teasertuesday 5.21.19

So the premise of this Tuesday blog feature was to give you a little insight and previews into books that are coming out, or that I’m writing right now. Today, we’ve got the second category. This is from the second book in my dot com girls series from Limitless. It’s not contracted yet, but hope springs eternal in my house and in my mind! This is the story of Eleanor “Nell” Newbery, a once-upon-a-time heiress, who, through her father’s greed ( think Bernie Madoff) has  tumbled from rich girl to poor. Because of her strong will and business acumen, though, she’s made a success of her moving  and handyman company, Helpful Hunks. Nell’s not a trusting kind of girl – she’s been burned too many times by men who want to date her so they can sell their stories to tabloids. But when she meets Econ professor Charles Churchill at a lecture, for once she decides to toss her distrustful issues aside.

Here’s a little taste – it’s raw so please don’t judge any mistakes yet! This is their first meet, told in Nell’s POV.

A lifetime of innate clumsiness has prevented me from ever wearing anything taller than a tiny kitten heel. A higher heel spelled complications in situations that involved doing anything with my feet and legs in tandem – such as walking. It’s been said by my friends that I can trip standing still. They’re not exaggerating, so today I’d donned a pair of well worn and much loved ballet flats just as a precaution against any movement mishaps. The last thing I wanted to do was fall while I was lecturing. Not in this age of camera phones where my ungainliness could be uploaded and Instagrammed to the world in a matter of seconds.

I should have added walking up stairs to that precaution because three steps away from the second floor landing I slid, stumbled, and slipped. Honesty, who but me could fall up the stairs?

Flailing, my brief case tumbled down behind me and the papers I’d been holding flew around me like confetti in the wind when I dropped them in order to put my arms out and brace myself against face-planting into the marble.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I landed with my palms splayed flat on the stair. The slap of my flesh meeting the hard step reverberated around me, and my forearms trembled with the force of the hit. My left shin slammed against the stair tread, the sharp edge of it connecting right under my rounded kneecap. One of my consignment store-bought Kate Spades slid off and plummeted downward, chasing after my briefcase.

For a moment I stood stone still, shocked at the loudness of my hit in the stairwell and the immediate pain filling my hands and knee.

I said a silent prayer of thanks that no one had been a witness to my fall and then took the prayer back when a voice drifted up from below me.

Good Lord. Are you okay?”

Why do people ask such a stupid question? Obviously, I wasn’t. I’d just fallen flat on my face, my papers were strewn about me as if they’d exploded out of a canon and, because this was me of the lousy luck we were talking about, my laptop was probably damaged beyond repair.

Just as I was about to toss the questioner a snarky retort, I felt a hand wind around one of upper arms and haul me up as if I weighed nothing more than a wisp of air.

My dress had three quarter sleeves but even through the cotton the warmth that oozed from the hand heated my skin as if touching it bare.

“Can you stand?” the voice holding me asked.

While the hand oozed with warmth, the voice flowed in a sultry, sensual tone that shot straight to my insides and heated all the parts of me that had been experiencing an arctic frost of late.

Well, a lot more than of late. More like the past decade.

Deep toned and delicately accented like Prince Harry’s, I’d bet cash-money it was English to the core.

“I think so.” With my free hand on the rail, I righted and gingerly placed my unshod foot flat on the stair tread. My knee ached, but I could tell nothing was broken. I was going to be sore tomorrow, though, for sure. And bruised without a doubt. My fair skin always looks like I’ve been in a ten-round prize fight whenever I bang against something.

I lifted my gaze to tell he-of-the-soulful-voice I was okay and the words stuck in the back of my throat.

Concern wrinkled a high brow and the skin at the corners of his eyes. And, goodness, what eyes. As deep and blue as a ripe blueberry on the vine begging to be picked. I’d never seen that color on an actual human before and it was beyond striking. Thick, blond hair tinged with gray at the temples was cut short along the nape. My gaze slid from his gorgeous eyes down to cheeks carved from alabaster and dusted with a salt and pepper stubble that ran down the length of his jaw. When they flitted to his mouth the air stuck in my throat finally broke free in a gasp that echoed around us. Full and luscious, smooth skinned and deep blush in color, they were the most perfect lips imaginable. For a hot second the ache in my hands and knee disappeared to form a totally different kind of ache in my core.

I blinked, shuddered, and teetered a bit when I recognized the alien sensation swimming within me as awareness.

Sexual awareness.

His beautiful lips tugged down at the corners as he stared at me, worry in those compelling eyes. His hand tightened on my arm.

“Steady,” he said in that silky voice.

“I-I’m okay. Really.” I tired to move out of his hold but he wasn’t having it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thanks. I’m fine. Well,” I rolled my eyes as he continued to peer at me, “I’m a little banged up and embarrassed, but fine. Really. I fall all the time. Everywhere.”

Geez, Eleanor, shut up, my internal snark instructed.

Mr. Sexy didn’t look all that convinced, but he did let go of my arm.

“It’s true. And now I’m embarrassed and late.” I bent to retrieve the notes that had gone helter-skelter when I stumbled. I didn’t relish going back down the steps to get my briefcase, but I was saved from having to when he did the honors.

I slung the strap over my shoulder after taking it from him. Then he gave me my shoe. I held onto the rail while I slipped it back on.

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Battered and bruised but I’ll live. Thanks again, but I’ve gotta get going.”

“Where are you heading?”

I blinked, wondering why he asked.

“Room 265. It’s supposed to be right up these stairs.”

He gave me a quick head bob. “It is. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Oh, no, really. That’s okay. I can find my way. You’ve done enough. I don’t want to make you late for wherever”—I flapped my free hand in the air—“you need to be.”

Those amazing lips twitched at the corners turning his intriguing face into a whole new level of handsome.

“I happen to be going in the same direction, so no problem.”

He held a hand out to indicate we should move up the remaining stairs.

With my papers bundled in one hand, my shoe back in place and my briefcase, thankfully, not emitting sounds of my laptop jiggling in a thousand pieces, I held onto the rail with the other and walked – slowly and cautiously – up the remaining steps while he kept an eye on my progress.

My chaperone, because that’s what he was at this point, kept his stride coupled with mine. At the top of the landing he pulled the corridor door open, held it, and nodded for me to precede him.

It was easy to find my scheduled room because outside it on the wall was a scotch-taped notice indicating my name, the course I was teaching, and the time the class started, which, after a quick glance at my watch, was right now.

“This is me,” I said, placing what I hoped was a normal smile on my face and not a grimace. “Thank you again for your help.”

His gaze shot from the paper on the wall to my face. With his head tilted just a bit to the side, the look he gave me was indecipherable. I couldn’t tell if he was silently laughing at the title of my class, me, or if he was wondering if someone who was as clumsy as I was had personal knowledge and experience with shattering ceilings euphemistic or otherwise.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Newbery.” He pronounced my name as if the second e was missing, the b and the r rolling off his tongue together, and not berry the way people usually did. I have to admit, I liked this pronunciation way better. It sounded…classier, somehow. “Have a good class. And you might want to ice that knee later on just as a precaution.”

With that he nodded again, turned, and then walked down the long hallway away from me.

The back of him was as interesting as the front. Broad, straight shoulders encased in a sport’s coat that dropped effortlessly from shoulder to hip; endlessly long legs wrapped in fitted trousers. He held himself in a manner my mother would have approved of: erect, like a solider but graceful, like a dancer. I could actually picture him in both a uniform holding a rifle and a tuxedo holding…me.

Holy crap.

I stayed in my spot until he opened a door at the end of the corridor and then disappeared inside it without ever glancing back at me.

With a shake of my head to clear it of the wacky thoughts, I opened my own classroom door and entered into what I hoped wouldn’t prove to be one of the nine circles of Hell.

So – that’s it for now. Like I said, this is raw – no editing yet, so don’t be judgey( Hee hee).

If you’re looking for me when I’m not writing new stuff, here’s where I’ll be:Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

and please don’t forget I’m participating in the BOOKSWEEPS Sweet and Mild Contemporary Romance Contest until May 29. Enter Here for a chance to win great prizes.

Until next time ~ Peg.

 

 

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#AuthorVisit with Marianne Rice, #Contemporary #Romance writer

Today one of my wonderful writer friends ( and don’t I just love saying those 2 words together – writer and friend!) has a new book out. Marianne Rice is a multi-published contemporary romance author who writes stories set in small New England towns. Her latest book, STAYING GROUNDED, ( A Rocky Harbor Novel) is set in the beautiful state of Maine and releases today. She’s giving us a little taste of what we can find inside the pages and believe me – you’ll want to read it all after this little snippet! I’m so happy to call this talented, lovely lady friend.

STAYING GROUNDED by Marianne Rice (A Rocky Harbor Novel)

mariann4

Blurb:

Graham Riley enjoys the laid-back freedom of a pilot’s life—until one choice puts his career in jeopardy…

Graham loves his job—it allows him to escape his troubled past and the stigma of being a murderer’s son. But after an altercation with a drunk passenger is posted on social media, he’s forced to go on administrative leave until his name can be cleared. To get his wings back, he must attend anger management classes, and to avoid the media frenzy near his home base in Texas, he heads to Rocky Harbor, Maine.

Responsible therapist Maggie O’Fallon wants a stable relationship with a man who’s not going anywhere…

Maggie grew up with parents who were never around, physically or emotionally. Needing steadiness in her life and in a relationship, she only dates men with normal jobs. But when Graham walks into her office and flashes his charming steel-blue eyes at her, she’s at a loss for words. Torn between her ethics and her heart, Maggie asks Graham to see a different therapist so they can explore the chemistry between them.

He has everything she’s been looking for—except stability…

Maggie touches something deep within Graham and he panics, pushing her away, too scared to face his feelings. But when a private investigator threatens to discredit not only Graham, but Maggie’s practice as well, he is faced with two choices. Fight…or take flight.

Battling a lawsuit and his heart, Graham must decide what’s more important—the life he thought he wanted…or Maggie. Maggie might be the only thing that will ever help Graham
Stay Grounded.

Excerpt:

“I haven’t been with Ashley, or any other woman, since I met you.”

Her girly parts tingled at the admission. But still…

“Congratulations. You must be very proud. And horny.”

Graham smirked and her toes curled. Double damn! Her snarky comments were supposed to piss him off, spar a fight, not twist his lips into a magnetic grin.

“You might not believe it, but I have pretty good control over my…sexual tendencies.” The words rolled off his tongue and she had to clench her thighs. “Except when I’m around you.”

“That’s a good one. Do most girls fall for that line?”

“First time I used it. How’s it working?”

Too. Damn. Well. “I’ve heard better.”

Graham stood, stalking her with his eyes, doing that unfair panty-dropping grin thing with his perfect lips.

“Maggie.” He stepped closer, and she told her legs to move backward, but they wouldn’t listen to her and stayed locked, waiting, wanting, Graham to come closer. “You do things to me I don’t understand.”

“Ditto.” Oops. She didn’t mean for that to slip out.

“I want you to think about kissing me as much as I think about kissing you.”

Buy Links:

Kindle Unlimited:      Paperback

MEET THE AUTHOR: 

mariann

Marianne Rice writes contemporary romances set in small New England towns. Her heroes are big and strong, yet value family and humor, while her heroines are smart, sexy, sometimes a little bit sassy, and are often battling a strong internal conflict. Together, they deal with real life issues and always, always, find everlasting love. When she’s not writing, Marianne spends her time buying shoes, eating chocolate, chauffeuring her herd of children to their varying sporting events, and when there’s time, cuddling with her husband, a drink in one hand, a romance book in the other.

Find Marianne here:

Limitless Publishing:   Facebook:    Twitter:    Website:

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Alpha Male, Author, Characters, Contemporary Romance, love, Romance, Romance Books, RWA, Strong Women