Tag Archives: #readRomance #amreading #amreadingRomance
This little gem released this month to some wonderful reviews. My heart is so full!!!! Here’s a little snippet for your Sunday reading delight:
Cal led her around the outer perimeter of the barn, towards the back parking lot. Once he was certain they were away from prying eyes and ears, he stopped.
Turning to Silvestra, he saw the golden glow of the moon reflected over her head and wondered, for just second, if she could possibly be real.
“You’re beautiful in moonlight, Silvestra. But then, I’ve found you’re beautiful at any time.”
His hands found their way to her upper arms, gently pulling her towards him. “I’ve been dreaming about doing this since the last time we were together.”
Amber eyes widened just a fraction when he brought his head down. Her face lifted to his, a look of open anticipation dancing across it.
With a swiftness born of desperation and cutting need, Cal’s mouth claimed hers.
When her lips parted on a sigh, Cal needed no further invitation. A swift snap of his tongue and he was inside her mouth, probing, exploring. She tasted sweet and full of spice, and so very alive. His heart pounded against his chest, nearly exploding with excitement. The two brief kisses they’d shared were mild temptations, when, once taken, could no longer be ignored.
Silvestra’s mouth moved under his and Cal groaned with need. One hand cupped the nape of her neck as he bent her back across his arm, deepening the kiss. The gasp he heard escape from her thrilled him, spurred him on.
His other hand slinked down her neck, past her shoulders, to rest in the hollow below her breast. Resting his palm against the gentle swell, his thumb flicked across the center. He was rewarded with the nipple instantly beneath the fabric of her dress.
Silvestra arched against him, molding to his form as small mews of pleasure rose from her throat.
Cal’s mouth began a slow descent from her lips, down her neck. When he nipped at the fleshy part of her earlobe, he smiled in delight as she fisted her fingers into his hair, yanking his head further in its exploration.
Silvestra wanted him, of that he was certain. Her body wouldn’t respond this way if she didn’t. But would she respond to that wanting? Or would she be shattered with guilt, tormented by her need? A husband, waiting at home. A son, too.
Cal tried to banish the thoughts. For the moment, for this one special moment, she was his, not another’s.
A wonderful warmth stretched within him; a sensation of rightness followed it.
Intrigued? LOL You can read it on Kindle, in KU, and paperback, here: THE SHERIFF & THE PSYCHIC
Happy Sunday and happy reading, peeps ~ Peg
Release day for THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE – Romantic Hauntings book 2 #magnoliablossompublishing #PNR
So excited to share that Book 2 in the Romantic Hauntings series, THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE is out today!
We met WIll in book 1, Merry’s Ghost. He’s Merry’s older brother, an Academy Award Winning indie filmmaker. In this book, he’s filming the script of Merry’s Ghost, as penned by CD Seacort – his now brother-in-law and Merry’s hubby, and he’s found the perfect house to shoot in. The only problem? The owner is very reluctant to have a film made in her home.
Here’s the blurb and a little taste of the story…
Hotshot movie director Wilton June is in pre-production for a new movie. The moment he sees Maison Toussaint he decides it’s the perfect setting for the film and wants to rent it. The one stumbling block? The owner isn’t sure she can let her ancestral home be used in a movie.
Botanist Jerica Toussaint needs cash – a lot of it – to keep her home up to code and her herbal healing business alive. June’s financial offer is oh-so-tempting, as is the director himself. But the house has a secret Jerica’s guarded her entire life. Can she, in good conscience, rent it to a man who may expose it?
Convincing Jerica to trust him with her home – and her secret – is no easy feat and after a time Will realizes he needs to convince her to trust him with one more thing: her heart.
As far as spooky, make-your-skin-crawl, haunted-looking houses went, this one was perfect, Wilton June mused as he gazed up at the Victorian structure. It could have been on the cover of a coffee table book titled The House Buyer’s Guide to Ghostly Mansions.
Four stories tall, it was by far the biggest house he’d seen since he’d started scouting for locations in Boston and the surrounding area.
The uppermost level consisted of a single, square room, circled by floor-to-ceiling windows on all four sides, and set in the dead center of the house.
I bet you can see the entire town from any window you look through. The natural light must be incredible on a sunny day.
Always a bonus for a cinematographer. The ground floor was ringed by a full, covered porch, Corinthian columns supporting the overhang awning every few feet. Stained glass windows filled the second level, the third supporting a half balcony running along the length of the front of the house. The paint, a steely, cold grey, could have been the original as it was faded and peeling in spots. The drab, lifeless color added to the house’s eerie aesthetic. The shutters ran to black and a few hung from their hinges. A huge front yard sported beyond rust-laden wrought iron gates and boasted an overgrowth of dead grass and weeds he’d bet hadn’t seen any action from a lawnmower in some time. Off to one side stood a rose arbor, withered vines and decayed blooms covering it from top to bottom and once again adding to the dead look and feel of the place.
“It’s perfect,” he told the woman standing at his side.
Realtor Genevieve Gordon tossed him a look indicating either, a, he was crazy, or, b, she was afraid he might be pulling her leg and wasting her time.
No one who viewed this place would ever use perfect as a description.
But for what Will wanted, it was.“What are the specs?”She handed him a brochure filled with the home’s dimensions. Will calculated the necessary room he’d need for three stationary cameras, sound equipment, and extra lighting.
Perfect shot through his mind again.
“Can we go inside? I’d like to see how the rooms are situated and get an idea of the space.”
Ms. Gordon made a face his mother would have termed pinched.
“Are you sure you want to? I mean, the spec pages have pictures of the main rooms and all the dimensions. Isn’t that enough?”
He wondered what prompted the concern lacing her tone.
“If you don’t mind, I want to see the setup for myself, the flow from room to room, to ensure it can fit all my equipment and if it’s big enough for what I need to do.”
She sighed. “I’ll have to call the owner for approval.”
He cocked his head. “Don’t all owners want potential tenants to do a walk-through? In my experience, that’s what usually seals the deal.”
“You’re the first person in over two years who’s expressed any interest in the place.”
He could tell the moment she uttered the words, she regretted giving them life. Her mouth slammed to a hard, closed line and she glanced down at her shoes.
Strange response for someone looking to make a commission.
“You mentioned at the office the owner refuses to sign a rental agreement until she meets the potential renter, right?” he asked. “Wants to size them up? Interview them?”
“That’s the major stipulation for her leasing it. This is her ancestral home. It’s been in her family for four generations and she wants to ensure whoever does rent it is going to take care of it.”
“Got it.” He glanced back at the structure, saw in his mind’s eye the opening scene, how he’d film it, the angles he’d shoot from.
“I have every intention of taking care of this place.”
“Just know as another condition for renting,” the realtor said, “Miss Toussaint would require six months’ rent, up front. No refunds if you leave early. No matter what the reason.”
Again, strange wording, but he let it slide. He’d only leave when the project planned was complete and the film was in the can. Nothing else would make him leave, because one thing everyone said about Academy Award-winning documentarian and director Wilton June, he never walked away from anything before he was done with it.
With anticipation to start working twitching about within him, he turned to the petite brunette and said, “I want to see the inside of the house. Go ahead and give her a call. Let’s do this.”
Intrigued? Get your copy here:
I’m so tickled that I’ll be appearing at Romanticonn 2022 this year as a singing author! I’ll have all my newest releases for sale and I’d love to meet old and new friends and readers who are attending.
To help garner more readers and give loyal ones a chance at attending FOR FREE I’m joining many of the attending authors and promoting a special giveaway.
If you would like a chance at winning a free ticket to attend from me, you simply have to do one thing to be entered in my contest:
From 5/1-5/31, purchase a copy of either MIX and MATCH or THE SHERIFF & THE PSYCHIC from Amazon ( links are below) and then once you do, email me with a copy of the Amazon receipt. I’ll be compling the emails of everyone who does this and who wants to enter, and at the end of the month a winner will be chosen and that reader will receive a ticket to attend ROMANTICONN2022 from the coordinator.
Here are all the links you need, including my email address.
MIX AND MATCH (on sale right now until 5.8.2022 for just 99cents!)
my email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Remember: In order to be entered for a chance to win a free ticket to ROMANTICONN from me, you must:
- purchase one the listed books from Amazon
- email me the receipt of your purchase.
Well, I would hope you’d read and review the book you purchased, too! LOL.
Good luck and I hope i hear from a bunch of you!!!
Really getting into the promotion part of the career this year.
My dear friend and fellow romance writer, Lucinda Race, has a new addition to the LAST CHANCE BEACH series that’s just in time for St. Patrick’s day. Read below for all the deets on SHAMROCKS ARE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND
Battered, broken, and looking for solitude smoke jumper Tric heads to Last Chance Beach and without warning walks into Kelly’s cottage. She knows from experience this is the best place for him to recover and she’ll share her safe haven with him. Will a bit of Irish luck and a matchmaking uncle give them a chance to find love?
Tric Ryan has spent the majority of his adult life jumping out of airplanes and into infernos. That is until a fateful jump nearly ends his career as a smokejumper. Badly in need of a change, he drives to Last Chance Beach to recover. A short respite at Shamrock Cottage promises him the solitude he needs to recoup or to figure out how he’ll face a future without the dangerous job he loves.
Kelly O’Malley moved to Last Chance Beach after a broken heart. She’s living in her uncle’s rental, Shamrock Cottage, after a fire destroys her home. Brandishing a skillet she’s ready to defend her safe haven from the battered and bruised man in her living room. A quick call to her uncle confirms the mix-up, and that he’s accidentally rented the cottage to both Tric and her for an open-ended stay. When they both agree they can share the spacious vacation home, sparks are sure to fly.
Kelly helps Tric recover with easy walks on the beach and friendship. Will the magic of Last Chance Beach, with a dash of luck from the Irish, heal the heartaches Kelly and Tric carry and help them find the love and a future they both deserve? After all, Shamrocks are a girl’s best friend.
Kelly O’Malley crept down the hallway of Shamrock Cottage, her heart pounding in her chest. The early morning sun streamed through the skylights and the hardwood floor was cool against her bare feet on this late-January morning. The weight of her cell phone was comforting in her sweatpants pocket.
Who the heck was in her house?
She slid along the wall like she had seen in those movies on television where the girl sleuth was stalking the unknown. Dramatic much? When she reached the end of the hall, she peeked around the corner, her gaze sweeping the open space of the living and dining rooms and kitchen. Standing in front of the sliding glass doors, looking out over the ocean, was a very tall man, even by her standards, as Kelly was tapping six feet herself. With a backpack over one shoulder and an enormous canvas duffel bag at his feet, he leaned heavily on a cane.
She tiptoed to the counter and grabbed the cast iron skillet, being careful not to make a sound. If he’d heard her, he hadn’t moved.
She raised the skillet to shoulder height, clutching it with two hands for good swinging leverage. “What are you doing in my house?”
The man slowly turned, grimaced, clutched his leg, and held up his other hand with the cane dangling from it. “What are you doing in my rental?” Confusion and pain clouded his eyes. “I promise I can’t hurt you.” He gestured to his leg. “Recovering from surgery and exhausted from a long drive.”
She didn’t lower her makeshift weapon but instead looked him over from head to toe. He was ruggedly handsome but did look road weary. “Rental?”
“Yes, well, actually this place belongs to a friend of my uncle, who’s a fire chief in Chicago. I signed the agreement on Rental Direct.” He shifted his backpack on his shoulder. “I can show you the agreement on my laptop.”
Well, that was the company her aunt and uncle used to rent their cottage, but that was before her house had burned to the ground in November and left her homeless.
“Who’s your uncle?”
He’d better come up with the right names or she’d call the police to escort him out and then change the code for the door lock. That thought caused her to frown; she’d changed it at the beginning of December.
“John Bannon, and he’s friends with Kevin O’Malley and his wife. I can’t remember her name.”
Well, that was her uncle. She kept holding the skillet with one hand and with the other withdrew her cell. “Joan. Her name is Joan. I’m going to give him a call and I’ll put it on speakerphone.”
“Good idea.” He took a slow, halting step toward her and a flash of agony washed over his face.
She softened but still brandished the skillet even though her arm was beginning to tremble. She lowered it. “No funny business.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Promise.” He gestured to a chair. “Mind if I sit?”
She pointed to a stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. Kelly didn’t want to look like she was a pushover, but his face was stark white and the last thing she wanted was for him to collapse.
Placing the cell on the counter, she stared at the man across from her. After the fourth ring, a deep male voice said, “Kelly, this is a surprise.”
“Hi, Uncle Kevin. I’ve got a situation down here.”
“There’s a list of qualified repair people on the island. You don’t need to call us before you take care of business.”
“It’s not that kind of issue. I have a man in my cottage and he says you rented this place to him.” Then it dawned on her that he hadn’t said his name. “Who are you?”
“Patrick Ryan, but my friends call me Tric.” He gave her a strained smile.
“Did you hear that? Patrick Ryan is in my home.”
“Oh, shoot, Kel. I’m sorry. Up until this moment, I’d forgotten we’d given Tric the family and friends code before your fire, which let him book even though I had put a hold on new rentals. He needed a place to recover once he was well enough to travel, and you know the magic of Last Chance Beach has a way of healing all wounds.”
“You forgot to tell me you rented the house to a stranger. What are we supposed to do?” Inwardly, she sighed. There was no way her uncle would ever rent the house to anyone sketchy.
“Any chance you two can stay under the same roof for a few days? I’ll make a few calls and see if I can find a new rental for Patrick.”
She rolled her shoulders. Not that her uncle could see it but it made her feel better. “I guess, but do me a favor and make sure the rental listing is hidden on RD. I don’t want anyone else showing up as a surprise houseguest.”
He gave a hearty chuckle. “I promise that won’t happen and I’m sure in no time, you two will adjust to living under one roof, at least for a few days.”
Under her breath, she muttered, “Don’t count on it.” Louder, she said, “Give Aunt Joan a hug for me.”
“Will do, and we’ll talk soon.”
She hit the end button and studied Patrick Ryan. He was easy on the eyes, with his dark-brown hair in an old-fashioned style, deep-blue eyes with crinkles at the corners, and a crooked nose that had obviously been broken at one time. Why did he have to sport deep dimples in both cheeks? It was her weakness in any guy—the deeper the dimple, the harder she’d fall.
“So, Patrick, it seems that we’re stuck together for a while until my uncle can make some calls to other cottage owners.”
Get your copy here:
Award-winning and best-selling author Lucinda Race is a lifelong fan of romantic fiction. As a young girl, she spent hours reading romance novels and getting lost in the hope they represent. While her friends dreamed of becoming doctors and engineers, her dreams were to become a writer—a romance novelist.
As life twisted and turned, she found herself writing nonfiction but longed to turn to her true passion. After developing the storyline for The Loudon Series, it was time to start living her dream. Her fingers practically fly over computer keys she weaves stories about strong women and the men who love them.
Lucinda lives with her husband and their two little dogs, a miniature long hair dachshund and a shitzu mix rescue, in the rolling hills of western Massachusetts. When she’s not at her day job, she’s immersed in her fictional worlds. And if she’s not writing romance novels, she’s reading everything she can get her hands on. It’s too bad her husband doesn’t cook, but a very good thing he loves takeout.
Goodreads – Lucinda Race- https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10174985.Lucinda_Race
Youtube Lucinda Race https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=lucinda+race+author
Universal Link https://books2read.com/ap/xyYO2g/Lucinda-Race
Bookbub Lucinda Race https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lucinda-race
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Lucinda-Race/e/B00Q0MMNUM
Lucinda’s Heart Racers Reader Group https://www.facebook.com/groups/118597305361578
I was lucky enough to be snowbound with my daughter and grandson during the weekend snowmageddon and I spent it wisely – Loving on my little grandbaby and reading a good book while exercising.
It was actually nice not to have to go out for anything. I had everything I needed in one place: daughter, grandson, a book ( several, actually) and some exercise equipment.
Hee hee. How did you make put during the blizzard??
from the upcoming first book in my new HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER series, MIX & MATCH, releasing 3.1.2022. ( here’s the preorder link for amazon:) https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09P48WPZC
Olivia Joyner smiled as she hit enter and sent her RSVP response to the on-line wedding site. This affair was going to be such a joyous event and excitement filled her to be included on the guest list.
Of course, since she’d been instrumental in the bride-and-groom-to-be meeting and falling in love, it made perfect sense she would be invited to the nuptials.
Olivia sat back, still smiling, and gave herself a mental pat on the back. She’d done it again – another successful match between two people who might never have met if not for her. As a third generation matchmaker, she got such a kick out of the wins – the couples who found their happily ever after.
But of course, for every tick in the match column, she could always depend on some not taking root. The couple might look perfect on paper, all the planets aligning, all the answers to her in-depth questionnaire in sync. But for some unforeseen reason there’d be no chemistry, no spark, no little zing when hands met, or gazes locked. Looking perfect on paper was one thing, but, try as she would like to, Olivia couldn’t force an attraction on someone if it wasn’t organically there.
Case in point, the client she was currently waiting for while at a cozy table for two in Joy’s House of Java. The coffee shop was a staple in the small town of Heaven, New Hampshire and once upon a high school age Olivia had worked as a barista.
The original Joy went to her maker a generation ago, the shop now owned and operated by her granddaughter.
“You want a refill,” Destiny, the said granddaughter, asked as she waddled up to the table, coffee carafe in hand, the other over her just-about-to-pop pregnant belly.
“I’m good, Des, thanks.” Olivia smiled. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Destiny nodded, her hair a cloud of waves courtesy of the fresh blowout she’d treated herself to at the Nirvana Day Spa and Salon, bobbing with the motion. “Jasmine Green. Heard she went out with the new doc in town last night.”
Olivia fought the strong urge to roll her eyes but kept her smile in place while internally groaning. Gossip was the mother’s milk of small towns and the residents of Heaven were devout lactose lovers. Olivia strove to protect her clients’ privacy despite the wagging tongues surrounding her in the town she’d been born and reared in – no easy feat.
As if she’d been summoned by the utterance of her name, Jasmine Green blew into the coffee shop, glanced around, and when she lit on Olivia, came her way.
“Hey, Des,” Jasmine said as she tore off her sunglasses and plopped into the chair opposite Olivia. “Can I get a full brew, extra milk, four sugars, please?”
“I was already saying it in my head when I spotted you,” Destiny replied. “You’ve been drinking the same thing since we were in high school. Be right back.”
Another head bob and she left them.
Garbed in a bright blue scrub suit, a stethoscope wound around her neck and her nursing pins attached to the front of her scrub top, Jasmine had, obviously, just come from a shift at Holy Mother of God Hospital. Her red hair was tucked back into a messy bun, her face makeup-free. Weariness colored her deep hazel eyes and when she leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table, a heavy sigh escaped from between her lips.
“Tough day?” Olivia asked.
“They all seem to be lately.”
Destiny returned, carrying a steaming mug. Silently, she placed it in front of Jasmine.
“So.” Olivia took a sip of her own brew. “Tell me about last night.”
Jasmine took a breath and then blew on her coffee. “I hate doing this again, but,” she said after taking a gulp, “well.” She shrugged and Olivia got the impression she was embarrassed.
“What? Come on, Jazz, talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what happened.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Nothing happened, that’s just it. The date didn’t go well.”
“Why not? Did he say or do something to put you off?”
“Was he rude? Condescending? Obnoxious?”
She answered with a shake of her head.
“Did he say something off color or insulting? Tell me. What is it? Because on paper you two are a pretty good match.”
And there were. Both were in the health profession so they had a lot to discuss on the work front. Both only children. Both divorced. They enjoyed the same type of music and both were exercise enthusiasts, in addition to a myriad of other attributes Olivia considered compatible.
“He’s, well, boring is the best word. And kinda…stuffy. He reminded me of an older uncle or even grandfather. Stodgy.”
Olivia did her best to hide her shock. The Hunter Reinhart she’d taken on as a client didn’t strike her as any of those things. Not boring, not stuffy, and certainly not like a man past his prime. She’d been thrilled when he’d hired her, and had been captivated by his good looks, respectful manner, and charming smile.
“There was just no…spark, no,” Jasmine shrugged “something special between us. Several times during dinner I wanted to yawn but knew I’d look rude if I did.”
“What did you two talk about?”
“In all honesty I can’t remember. None of it seemed particularly interesting.”
Once again, Olivia employed her face-blanking talent so she wouldn’t give her thoughts away.
“I’m sure he was as bored as me.”
“What makes you say that?” She refrained from telling her the doctor had called this morning, claiming the date went well and he wanted to see Jasmine again if she agreed.
When Jasmine had contacted her, Olivia thought it would be easy to find her a match. The thirty-three year old nurse had recently moved back home to Heaven from New York after her acrimonious and public divorce, intent on getting her life back to some semblance of normalcy. She’d sought out Olivia because, as she’d stated in her email, she didn’t want to get involved in the bar scene and most of the guys in the small town she’d known all her life, attended school with, and hadn’t considered them marriage material before she left town, her opinion unchanged now that she was back. Even with that declaration, Olivia had thought it would be an easy task to match her with someone.
After three dates with three different men, the latest one the newest doctor in town, Jasmine found none to her liking.
All the men she’d met were perfectly charming, suitable, and successful, but Jasmine found flaws with each of them. Olivia was beginning to think the woman was looking for someone—or something—who didn’t exist.
Either that, or she still carried a torch for the ex who’d publicly humiliated her when he left their marriage for a model ten years Jasmine’s junior.
“At this rate, I’m beginning to think I’ll end up like my mother. Alone, depressed, and bitter,” Jasmine said, then heaved another soul-crushing sigh.
Olivia kept her own counsel. She never wanted to give up on a client discovering their one true love. But Jasmine’s words were worrying and Olivia was concerned they just might prove true.
Intrigued? Hee hee. More snippets to follow.
Happy Sunday, peeps