Tag Archives: #SundaySnippet

#sundaySnippet New in #audiobooks #romcom #NYCsocialitesseries

So the little snippet from today’s selection is from my NEW YORK SOCIALITES series, IT’S A TRUST THING, which was just released on APPLE AUDIO!

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.

SNIPPET…

That old expression if you want something done, give it to a busy person describes my life to perfection.

I was already late for the two-hour lecture I’d agreed to give at Columbia Business School. And I say agreed with my tongue in my cheek.

When Dean Arnold Dietrichson, an old friend of my mother’s from her cotillion days, emailed and asked me to fill in for a professor who’d requested time off to visit a sick parent, I ignored the missive. And the two follow-ups he’d then sent. When he called me directly, I couldn’t come up with an excuse fast or truthful enough to squeak out of it. Public speaking is the last in a long laundry list of things I never want to do. Having my fingernails removed one by one without anesthesia and shaving my head supersede public speaking, so that tells you how much I didn’t want to do what I was about to do.

A scheduling issue had disrupted my afternoon and I found myself two men short for a moving job I’d booked weeks ago for an extremely influential client. It took me two and a half hours, seven pleading phone calls, the promise of an extra day off, plus time and half for the two guys who finally agreed to come in.  I toyed with the idea to add sexual favors to the asking price if no one agreed.

That would have been an empty promise, but desperate times…you know?

My business, Helpful Hunks, rents gorgeous twenty and thirty-something between-jobs male actors and models by the hour to do all the things you can’t—or don’t want to—do.

Are you a woman living on your own and need shelving put up but don’t know the business end of a hammer from a screwdriver? Call me. Are you relocating from one small New York apartment to another and don’t want to pay the exorbitant cost a commercial moving business charges to move the meager stuff you own? Check out my website. Need heavy furniture rearranged? Boxes brought in from storage? Someone to help relocate mom’s belongings from her home to her new assisted care facility? Send me an email.

The idea for the business came to me in college. I was my first client. At a spit above five foot, and with a mother residing in a psych facility and a father who was a guest of the state, I had no one to help me lug all my stuff into the dorm room I’d be living in for the next four years.

When a group of upperclassmen who were involved in a project offered to help me in order to gain service points for their frat house, I readily agreed. Flirty, fit, and hunky-hot, the guys got all my crap moved in one one-hundredth of the time it would have taken me on my own. While I watched them heft and heave my trunks, luggage, books, and bed linens, a little idea wormed its way into my entrepreneurial brain.

Despite my father’s mortifying public trial and his subsequent incarceration, Dennison Newbery’s business acumen-laced DNA flowed through me.

Before sophomore year began, I’d already hired a few classmates over the summer break to aid anyone who needed help moving into dorms and student housing. For a nominal fee, of course. My profits that year paid for the next two years of my education.

Business school, a business loan, and a solid marketing plan after I graduated, and here I was.

And you can listen to a selection here: AUDIO

Advertisement

2 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#Sundaysnippet THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE, #pnr #romantichauntings #readromance

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.

SNIPPET…

“Thanks for setting this up,” Will told Genevieve the following morning when he arrived at her office.

Looking at him with skeptical eyes, she nodded and accepted his handshake.  A man who could have been her twin in the looks department stood to her right wearing a three thousand dollar suit and if Will wasn’t mistaken, the remnants of a rough day or two. Railroad track red lines crisscrossed in the whites of his eyes and the stubble on his jaw was at either an attempt to grow a beard, or he hadn’t had the compunction to shave for a while. Before Will could be introduced, the guy tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, muttered a choked, “Excuse me,” and then blew his nose twice.

“Sorry,” he said, swiping at his nose with the swatch of white. “Allergy season. Gavin Gordon.”

Will’s eyes ping-ponged between the realtor and this man.

As if hearing the unasked question, he said, “I’m her brother.” He hitched a finger toward Genevieve.

“He’s also my lawyer,” a new voice said from behind him.

One of the most beautiful women Will had ever seen stood in the doorway.

No, beautiful was too tame a word. Striking and exotic were much more appropriate.

Hair the color of a raven’s feathers at midnight – dark and sleek and shiny – fell to below her waist in a mass of curls he knew instinctively were natural. Eyes the color of tempered chocolate regarded him from across the room. The corners were tipped upward in a delicate line, her brows, the twin color to her hair, two perfect arched wings above her eyes. High cheekbones any number of actresses he knew would have killed for covered unlined skin, rosy from the Fall winds blowing about outside. The tiny indent under her lips, bifurcating her chin was the sexiest thing he’d seen on a woman in… forever.

The vision came into the room, nodded at the realtor, then moved to hug the lawyer. For an insane instant, Will grew jealous of the contact between the two of them.

“Thanks for coming down, Gav.”

“Anything for you, babe.”

“Let’s get started,” Genevieve said. Indicating a chair behind the round office table, she said, “Mr. June?”

When all of them were seated – Will on one side of the table and the three of them across from him like opposing counsel in a courtroom – he said to the homeowner, “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me. I understand you have a few questions?”

She nodded, tossed a quick glance at the lawyer, then leaned her elbows forward on the table and folded her hands together.

When she dragged in a breath heavy with nerves, Will had the sudden urge to reach across the table, squeeze her hand and offer some kind of comfort.

“I understand you want to film a movie in the house.”

He nodded.

“That’s an unusual request. Don’t you usually film in a studio or on a sound stage?”

“I could, but I’d have to construct a prop house. Your home is absolutely perfect for the storyline of the film and it’s already standing. It would be cheaper in the long run to use an already viable structure.”

“What about my house makes it absolutely perfect, to use your words? Ms. Gordon told me you looked at six other properties that are all similar to mine. Surely any one of them would suit your… needs.”

Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a grown woman blush. Her cheeks turned apple-red as she spoke and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the most alluring thing he’d ever seen on a woman.

“True, but when I saw your house it just spoke to me. Screamed to me, in fact,” he said, grinning.

“Sc-screamed?” Jerica swallowed and a fine tremor started in her folded hands. “What do you mean… screamed?”

Will grinned and leaned back in his chair. “The movie I’m set to make is a modern-day love story about two people who try to solve a one-hundred-year-old murder mystery that occurred in the house where the heroine lives. Your house is perfect for the time period, aside from being huge, which is another plus, because of the size of my film equipment. After I walked through it with Ms. Gordon yesterday and got the lay of the land and the room sizes, I’m more convinced than ever it’s the perfect house for my filming needs.”

Her shoulders dropped down from where they’d been hugging her ears. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why his explanation calmed her nerves, but the response encouraged him. Leaning forward, he told her, “I know it’s a huge intrusion to have people and gear in your home, but I can assure you, we’re all very professional. And my crew is only five people plus me. And the actors, or course. I have a very well-oiled machine of people I trust and who are tops in their fields. I promise nothing will get broken or damaged, and we won’t move a thing unless we ask first.”

She tossed a quick glance at the lawyer who caught the move and nodded.

“Should Miss Toussaint agree to your filming in the house – and that’s still a big if – we would ask you to sign a separate waiver stating you’ll take full responsibility for the costs of any damage.”

“Not a problem,” Will said.

“Now, about the use-of-location contract,” Gavin said, taking a stack of papers from a briefcase that materialized at his feet. “The fee mentioned seems a little low since the house will not only be inhabited by you as a resident but your film crew as well—”

“The crew stays off-site. I’ll be the only one actually living in the house at the time of filming.”

“Be that as it may, the recompense paid to Ms. Toussaint should be higher. After all, the film will be seen, potentially, by a large audience.”

“That’s always the hope.” Will grinned.

“People who may actually want to come and see where the movie was filmed. You can see where this may pose a problem with security for Ms. Toussaint. A higher fee would enable her to employ security if needed. This is, after all, her home. We want to ensure her safety.”

Will’s gaze raked over Jerica Toussaint’s face. “Of course. What price were you thinking.”

When he named an amount twenty-five percent higher than the offer, Will hid his surprise, then did a quick mental math shuffle. He could swing the payment increase if he cut the budget a bit somewhere else.

“Okay. Consider it done.”

Surprise galloped around the table, but it was Jerica Toussaint’s wide-eyed face Will settled on.

“Anything else?” he asked after noting the glances between lawyer and client.

Genevive spoke up for the first time. “The sixth-month rent clause is ironclad. If you decide to leave, for whatever reason, before the lease expires, you won’t be issued a refund.”

“Understood. And I’m prepared to write you a check for the full amount today, as soon as you agree to sign the lease,” he told Jerica.

When she took a corner of her mouth between her teeth, that sexy little dent in her chin winked at him. In a hot second, the lower half of his body went on high alert and he was thankful the desk hid him from the waist down.

Intrigued? If you are, here’s where the book is available: The Haunting of Wilton June

2 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#SundaySnippet The New York Socialites – BALANCE #romcom #NYCromance

the third book in The New York Socialites Series, BALANCE, is my little gift to you today.

She’s a wealthy socialite who survived an abusive marriage.
He’s a hardworking guy raising his son and caring for his widowed father.
They come from different worlds, but it’s said…opposites attract.
Can they find the balance between their two lifestyles to make their love work?
Or will their differences tear them apart?

Life and love are a balancing act.

ENJOY….

Joe enveloped me in a full-body hug, told me he enjoyed meeting and chatting with me, then made me promise I wouldn’t be “a stranger.” I assured him I wouldn’t.

Once we were outside the building, Derek said, “He liked you.”

Cockily, I replied, “Of course he did. What’s not to like?”

He grinned, said, “Not a damn thing,” then swooped me into his arms and pulled me against him. “I wanted to do this in the kitchen but…David.” He shook his head.

I had a pretty good idea what he meant, but asked anyway, “Do what?” while I leaned into his hard body and wrapped my hands around his waist.

With the half grin that made me lose the will to stand upright, he nuzzled the side of my nose with his own. “This.”

Soft and sweet, a simple swipe of his mouth against mine, the kiss was as chaste as could be.

Why I went numb from my knees downward was inexplicable, then. My grip around his waist tightened as I fell into his body for support to keep upright.

A deep moan welled up from him, a soul-tugging sigh with it,  and he deepened the kiss as he dipped me backward over his arm.

I held on for dear life.

Okay, that, and because he felt so damn good. I’d have been a fool not to enjoy all the hard, lean muscle pressing against me now, wouldn’t I?

Mr. and Mrs. Doubletree of the Manhattan Doubletrees didn’t raise a fool.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered against my cheek, “ever since that day at the women’s center.”

I shifted until his lips were against my temple. “Why?”

“You mean aside from the way my heart rate kicks up whenever I look at you?”

Pleasure rippled through me.

“When you told me about being recently divorced you looked so…lost and fragile.”

A caustic laugh barked from me. “Two words no one has ever used to describe me are lost and fragile.”

He pulled back and cupped my cheeks. Kindness filled his eyes and I got lost in them. “I think you do a good job of hiding it, but you’ve been hurt. Deeply hurt.”

I rolled a shoulder. “No divorce is ever really amicable.”

Especially when your testimony puts your ex behind bars.

“Some hurt is expected,” I added.

He nodded. “All I wanted to do was pull you into my arms and kiss all the bad stuff away.”

For some reason I didn’t want him to know how his words touched me. My experience with my ex-husband had made me hyper-cautious and unwilling to share any weakness for fear it would be exploited. So, I fell back on past behavior and gave him an old, snarky Phil response to mask the emotions running rampant through me.

“I think that’s your medical brain talking. You see someone you think is hurting and you want to heal them, kiss it and make it all better.”

His grin grew slowly from one cheek to the other and I swear on Grannie Charlotte’s forty-inch string pearls I never wanted to look away.

“Well, the kissing part is true,” he said, bussing the tip of my nose. “But the reason behind it has nothing to do with the medical part of my brain. It has nothing to do with any part of my…brain.”

Proof of that was pressing against my abdomen.

Universal Link: BALANCE

Leave a comment

Filed under sunday snippet, Uncategorized

#sundaysnippet from THE NEW YORK SOCIALITES series #NYCromance #romcom

Today’s little something extra comes from IT’S A TRUST THING, book 1 in the NEW YORK SOCIALITES SERIES.

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.

ANd since it’s pumpkin spice time here in the US….enjoy….

“Let’s take dessert outside and sit. It’s not full-on dark yet,” he suggested while filling a tray with dessert plates, cups, and utensils.

A girl could get used to being waited on like this. Charlie was a much better host than I’d ever been, and that was the simple truth.

A few minutes later we were each in one of the lounge chaises I’d spotted earlier. Twilight was darkening the sky and the horizon danced with stripes of bright orange and red. The avenues outlining Central Park were lit and bright, the streetlights sparkling around the trees. 

“If you’re cold I’ve got throw blankets in the storage cabinet,” Charlie said as he handed me a teacup.

“This’ll keep me warm.” I took a sip and sighed. “I love a cup of tea in the evening.”

“Even though you drink coffee? Most people choose one or the other.”

“I seem to remember you with a coffee mug in your hand in the diner, Professor, so…” I waved my free hand.

He laughed and settled back, his long legs spread out before him on the chaise, crossed at the ankles.

I’d slipped off my flats and tucked my feet under my legs.

“It’s nice out here,” I said, glancing at the city beyond the railing. “We’re high enough up the traffic sounds aren’t annoying; it’s private, without nosy neighbors right on top of you; and you’re buffered from the wind. If I open a window at my place, the wind shear off the Hudson River can be like a cyclone on some days.”

Charlie sipped his tea as his gaze followed mine, and nodded. “The difference between a park view and a water one. I love looking out over the tree line, especially in spring and fall.”

“Two opposite seasons. Kinda like foliage birth and death.”

He turned his attention to me. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. I enjoy watching the trees come into bloom, and I like watching them turn color.”

“I like that, too. Fall is my favorite time of year. The air is crisp, with a tiny bite to it; you can start wearing sweaters and boots. Plus,” I grinned at him, “pumpkin spice.”

A theatrical grown blew from him. “Oh, good Lord, are you one of those who loves pumpkin spice flavored everything? Coffee? Donuts? Tea? I even saw a pumpkin spice-flavored marshmallow cereal in the market last fall. People were buying it by the case. That was a bit much.” He shook his head, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

“Never underestimate the influential power familiar branding has on advertising to the consumer,” I said.

Charlie’s chuckle floated in the air next to me.

“That should be the topic of your next lecture.”

“What? Pumpkin spice?” I asked, cocking my head at him with what I hoped was a serious expression on my face.

Laughter danced in his eyes. “The class would most likely all be able to relate to that topic, but, no. Has Dean Dietrichson asked you to speak again?”

“I got an email yesterday asking me if I could sub again this Wednesday. Seems Dr. Chang’s mom still isn’t doing well. I haven’t replied to him yet.”

As I sipped my tea he silently regarded me. “What?”

“Would you like a little unsolicited advice?”

“If I said no would you give it anyway?”

“No. I’d respect your request,” he answered.

And right there was the reason he was different from every other man I’d ever known.

“You think I should do it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve told you how much chatter there was about your lecture from those who sat in on it. How enlightening the class viewed your insights. Several times I heard what a wonderfully natural speaker you are. That’s a gift, Nell, that ability to connect to a group of strangers and have them not only be comfortable with, and open to, what you’re teaching, but engaged as well. A true gift.”

I can’t explain why his words meant so much to me, but they did. Validation as a savvy business owner is something I’ve strived for. I’ve struggled to be respected and successful on my own, through my own deeds and actions, and not simply because someone’s DNA coursed through my system. I’d had two bank managers deny my start-up business loan because they worried my father’s behavior had been passed down to me.

How ridiculous is that? The sins of the father aside, how truly ridiculous?

I took another sip of my tea and considered Charlie’s words.

“I have to admit, it was…fun, speaking to them. Not nearly as stressful as I’d imagined it would be.”

He nodded.

“And it was kinda cool that they all”—I flipped my free hand in the air again—“valued the points I was trying to make.”

“I’d say you made those points, not tried.”

I bit down on the corner of my mouth and stared back out at the quickly darkening horizon. “I’ll email him back when I get home,” I said. “But I need to come up with a better topic than the benefits of pumpkin spice branding.”

His rich, deep laughter sent a rivulet of pleasure down my spine.

And catch up on all the NY Socialites before Book 4 – INFLUENCE – drops in 2023

3 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#sundaySnippet #kindlevella #crimedrama

For this week’s selection, I decided to show you something new – my Kindle Vella work. This little ditty is from THE JANE AUSTEN MURDERS, rated a fan favorite for over 32 weeks! Check it out and if you like it, subscribe to Kindle Vella on your phone. It’s free and the first 3 chapters of any story are always free to read.

Enjoy….

Lizzy followed her partner into a vacant row and took a seat on the aisle.

            From her vantage point, Darcy’s voice was quite clear as he spoke at the front of the room from behind a podium. Her vision of the professor was restricted, though, due to the height and distance she and Frank were. She could see his hair was dark, his skin light. He wore a nondescript pullover, a sports jacket over that. Trousers, not jeans, covered his legs. He could be tall, she thought. He certainly wasn’t short, with most of his upper body showing above the pulpit.

            “Guy’s got good pipes,” Frank said, “for a teacher. Makes it hard to fall asleep listening to someone like that.”

            Lizzy understood what he meant. The voice was steeped in a calm, controlled timbre that commanded authority. Darcy wasn’t American, and Lizzy was surprised at that. English, born and bred, if she wasn’t mistaking the accent. A small flicker sparked in her stomach as she listened to him deliver his lecture, never once referring to any notes or cards.

            He spoke of love. Tortured, unrequited love, and how it could kill a young woman’s very being through its harsh, unrewarded, and unknown existence. To never know what it feels like to have another’s love returned to you in the same vein, at the same measure. A love so strong-willed it could overtake and outstrip a heart and mind of its very desire to live.

            A love, so pure, so complete, and so wanting, that it caused nothing but heartache for the one who felt it.

            Lizzy blinked a few times. Darcy’s lyrical voice conjured up a daydream where she’d actually seen the picture he was describing.

            A young woman, innocent and heartbroken, felled by unrequited love.

            She spied her own face atop that imagined female form.

            “Jesus!”

            “What?” Frank whispered, turning to her. “What’s wrong?”

            A brisk, full shaking of her head almost cleared the fog. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I spoke out loud.”

            “You okay? You look a little pasty.”

            “Yeah. I think I just need to eat something. I’ll be fine.”

            When his eyes narrowed and he continued to stare at her, Lizzy knew he could see more than she liked. She sat forward and heard the bell ring at the same time.

            “Good,” she said, rising, hoping he didn’t hear the relief in her sigh. “Let’s go.” She was two rows in front of him by the time he moved to join her.           

            The students, all female, were gathering up their things and exiting via the bottom amphitheater door. Lizzy watched several make their way to the front of the room to surround their instructor.  She slowed, knowing it would be a few moments before the throng thinned. The further she got down the steps, the clearer Darcy’s face became.

            She was correct when she took him for tall rather than short. At least six-one, he was a full head above most of the girls swarming around him. On closer inspection, the dark curly hair was flecked with silver at the temples. Unlike Bingley’s, Darcy’s hair was not in need of a trim. Full, perfectly arched brows sat over eyes whose color she had yet to ascertain. His cheeks were etched into two hollows that ended in a square, brick-hard, jaw.

            Lizzy stood on the bottom step, hands in her pockets as she and Frank waited for the professor to be free.

            “Guy’s got a fan club,” Frank whispered.

            “I see that,” she answered, her gaze staying on Darcy, one delicate eyebrow bending upwards in conjunction with the opposite corner of her mouth.

            It was at that moment Darcy looked up and their eyes met over the head of one of his students.

            Blue.

            His eyes were blue. Solid, deep, and intermingled with shards of silvery gray. 

            Darcy’s perusal never left her face as the student before him asked a question.

            Lizzy realized that neither she nor the professor had blinked once since his gaze found hers. The sting of moisture drying within them, blurry the vision, finally made her lids do their job.

            She watched Darcy when her sight cleared and focused again. He shook his head once, blinked a few times, and then turned back towards his student, intent on what was being said to him.

            “Crowd’s thinning,” Frank said, moving by her towards the podium. “Let’s go.”

            Lizzy found her feet a moment later, after first taking a deep breath and rolling her shoulders.

You can see all my Kindle Vella Stories, here: and a word of warning – these stories are not my typical romance, HEA books. They are all murder mysteries/crime drama/suspense stories.

The Jane Austen Murders

Death Between the Pages

VIndication

5 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#SundaySnippet – When #fakedating is acceptable…

So tomorrow my book CHANCE ( LAST MAN STANDING #12) releases into the book reading world and I figured I’d give you one more chance ( see what I did there! LOL) to determine if you’d like to read the entire book.

Today’s snippet goes to the heart of the #fakedating premise of the book between Freddie and Chance.

Enjoy…

When he laid it all out she had to admit, the idea was pretty out there.

“I know it’s a last-minute request and I totally understand if you don’t want to say yes. But I really want you to say yes.”

“I don’t know,” she said, biting down on a corner of her lip. “It’s kind of…deceitful, isn’t it?”

“In a way. But for the best of reasons. If they think I’m dating someone they’ll be happy for me and I’ll have the added benefit of them getting off their hook-me-up endeavors for a while. And believe me, I could use a break from that. There’s nothing worse than a grown man being set up by a bunch of elderly women with good intentions.”

“No, I don’t imagine there is.” She laughed.

“It’s only for one night,” he added. “Just to get through this party. There’s nothing else planned until my Aunt Theresa’s birthday in July and by then I’ll have figured something out to get them off my backs permanently.”

“That’s only three months away, you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m looking at it as three months reprieve where I won’t be harassed with dating matchups.”

“Have you ever simply thought to tell them your views on marriage? Marriage for you, in particular?”

“The cousins—their kids—yes. But they’re all married, too. I’ve never said outright to the aunts that I don’t want to get married. I’m afraid a few of them would have heart attacks or start invoking my mother’s name as a way to ward off whatever bedevilment they think has possessed me. Their definition of a happy life is a happy wife and kids for every man they know. It’s their…generation’s, I guess, way of thinking.”

Freddie nodded. “My mother’s a little younger than your aunts, I think, but she feels the same way.”

She sat back and stared at him for a moment.

“Say I say yes—”

“Please do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Say I agree to go with you as your, what? Fake girlfriend?”

He nodded.

“What are you gonna tell them about me? About how we met?”

“The truth is always the best way to avoid issues,” he said. “You own and manage the coffee bar in my office building. We met and hit if off, decided to date.”

“What happens if they ask if I’ve ever been married? If I have any kids?”

“Tell them whatever you’re comfortable with. You don’t need to lie—”

“Good, since we’ll already be lying about our relationship.”

He frowned. “I guess I don’t consider it lying as much as I think of it as a way to keep the aunts out of my hair for a bit.”

She nodded. “What would you expect me to do?”

He shrugged. “Whatever girlfriends do when they meet their boyfriend’s relatives.” He raked his hands down his face, then readjusted his glasses. “And I can’t believe I’m describing myself that way at my age.”

“You’ve got a few years left in you,” she said with a grin.

Intrigued? I hope so!!! Peg

2 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#SundaySnippet – CHANCE a #LMS coming soon

I haven’t done one of these in a while, but since CHANCE is releasing on 9.12, I thought I should… lol

CHANCE ( LAST MAN STANDING)

Chance Miller, divorce lawyer extraordinaire, knows the whole happily ever after dream is an urban myth. He deals with miserable and wedded warring couples every day and swears staying single keeps him sane and happy. His friends and family consider him the last single man standing and fear he’ll never find someone and settle down. But Chance relishes his carefree status and unencumbered lifestyle and has no plans to change anything.

If only his relatives would stop trying to set him up with their version of the perfect woman.

Fredrika Poole already experienced her one great love, and the widow can’t read any future romance in her tea leaves. She’s content to bake, run her business, and care for her daughter.

When Chance meets Freddie and discovers her marriage thoughts run on the same road his do, he realizes she’s the answer to his prayer for keeping the relatives at bay. But the pixie barista has a way of making Chance question everything he’s always thought about love, marriage, and wedded bliss.

Will his last man standing status go unchallenged? Or will Freddie be the one woman he wants…but can never have?

Enjoy….

Even though she wasn’t nervous, the sensation of Chance’s fingers resting on her back offered a strange sense of calm and comfort.

The moment they entered the ballroom the sound level, which she’d felt knocking against her chest from the intensity, slipped to a decided hush as all eyes turned toward them.

A tiny knife strike of fear slipped in and pierced her quiet mien.

Chance’s fingers pressed against her back. “Breathe,” he murmured. “The way to handle them is to never let them see you sweat.”

She grinned at his word choice.  Jimmy had said the same thing to her the first time she’d met his friends at the firehouse. Her usual state of calm bolted back.

A striking woman in a blue floor length dress and who had six inches and about forty years on her, crossed the length of the room, a man in a tuxedo clutching her hand and tagging along with her.

“Well, as usual you’re late,” the woman said, a huge, pleased smile on her face as she offered her cheek to Chance for a kiss.

He did so, saying, “You look lovely, Aunt Betty. Uncle Louis.” He nodded at the man at her side.

His aunt’s gaze shot to Freddie. If she had to put a word to the expression dancing across the older woman’s face it would be expectant.

“Allow me to introduce Fredrika Poole,” Chance said. A millisecond later he added, “My girlfriend.”

Hearing him say it aloud shouldn’t have sent a delighted shiver up her spine, but it did. Before she could contemplate on why, the woman in front of them let out a screech of delight.

“Well, isn’t this the best surprise!” She let go of her husband’s hand and pulled both of Freddie’s into hers, cocooning them.

“Happy Anniversary,” Freddie said with a smile.

“Thank you. Over fifty years with this man and every one has been better than the last.” The man at her side grinned then kissed her cheek. “But enough about us,” she said turning her full attention back to her. “Tell me, how did you two meet? Was it at work? How long have you been dating? What do you do? Are you a lawyer, too?”

Freddie blinked a few times, unsure of which question to answer first and afraid more were going to be thrown her way before she could give a reply to even one.

“Down, girl,” Chance said as he slid her hands from his aunt’s grip. “You have all night to grill her. We just got here and I’d like to make the rounds, say hello to everyone and introduce her around. Okay?”

His aunt tossed him a peeved pout, then shook her head and grinned.  “Always have to be in control,” she said, clucking her tongue. To Freddie she said, “You probably already know that about him, though, don’t you dear? The original Mr. In Charge, that’s our Chancey-boy.”

Freddie hid the grin she wanted to let loose from the look on Chance’s face. Part embarrassed, part annoyed, and one hundred percent adorably miffed male grimaced next to her.

“Go on, then,” Betty said. “Go show your girl off. But don’t forget your favorite aunt. I want to hear all the deets, as my grandkids say, later on. I’m not letting you leave this party without knowing everything about you,” she said to Freddie.

“Yes ma’am,” Freddie replied.

“Terrified yet?” Chance whispered as he took her arm and propelled her toward a group of people close to their own age.

She tried not to think about how natural his hand felt against her skin as she said, “It takes a whole lot more than an aunt who shows her love by being nosy to scare me, Chancey-boy,” she said, trying to keep the grin from her face.

When he squeezed her arm and said, “I’ll pay you back for calling me that by introducing you to Aunt Theresa next. The FBI and CIA have her on speed dial because of her interrogation techniques.”

“Bring it.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Hey, everyone. This is Freddie.”

The impossibly boorish introduction made her gape at him and then laugh out loud. She needn’t have worried about it, though, because he was immediately chastised by every female in the group.

Names were thrown at her from every direction, accompanied by warm and enthusiastic handshakes and smiles. Freddie glanced over at her date to see him engrossed in serious conversation with one of the most beautiful women she’d ever set eyes on. Long, shiny, deep auburn colored hair flowed freely about a perfectly heart-shaped face framed by robins-egg blue eyes and an upturned, pixie nose and jaw.

Without being told, she knew this was Chance’s sister, Sable. The curve of their jaws and the cut of their cheeks hinted at it, but when Sable pursed her perfect lips in a pout of confusion, she saw Chance’s face stare back at her.

The younger woman glanced over at her, her delicate eyebrows lifting at something her brother was saying.

Questions flew at her left and right. Chance hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her she’d be the topic of interest tonight simply because she’d come with him.

“You’re certainly an improvement over the last girl he brought around,” Moira – she thought that was the name – said. “You actually make eye contact and smile,” she added.

“And you look like you have a brain,” said another. Kitty, maybe?

“Thanks,” she said, adding a crooked smile. “I think.”

“How long have the two of you been going out?” This one she couldn’t put a name to.

“Not long,” she replied, purposefully being vague.

“Where’d ya meet?” Moira again.

“I own the coffee station in the building Chance works in. We met by accident when he was on the receiving end of a thrown coffee cup.”

Eyebrows lifted and mouths pulled into delighted grins as she explained his client’s ex and her tirade.

“I would have paid cash money to see that,” the one whose name she couldn’t remember said.

“All of us would have. So,” Kitty said, “you came to his rescue and what? He asked you out?”

“Something like that.” She smiled when she saw him leave his sister and stride back toward their group.

“Okay, kids, that’s enough,” Chance said as he slipped a hand around her arm. “I want a drink and something to eat and I’m sure Freddie does, too.  You can continue the grilling later.”

“We weren’t grilling her, Chancy-boy.” This from Kitty.

As he turned, Moira sniggered. “Should I have the waiters serve coffee now, or wait until later?”

Chance stumbled a bit while moving her away from the group, but didn’t respond to his cousin.

Gently, he tugged her toward the buffet table. “You told them?”

“They asked how we met. I wasn’t going to lie.”

His theatrical sigh pulled a grin from her.

“You can bet by the end of the night everyone in this room will know the story. My family is like a bad game of telephone.”

8 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#SundaySnippet #PNR #Ghosts THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE

I know reviews for this story are all over the spectrum, but I just love the chemistry between Will and Jerica in THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE.

“Have you ever been in a house that’s supposed to be haunted?”

Her eyes widened to the size of soda bottle tops and her cheeks paled, highlighting the raven color of her hair and brows. The fine tremor he’d noted in her hands before intensified.

“Hau-haunted?”

Even her voice changed, the timbre elevating almost to a Betty-Boop-screech.

“Yeah. If you haven’t, let me tell you the energy you feel in a house with a spirit is like no other you’ve ever felt. It’s like a cold wind invading your bones. One minute your body temperature is normal, the next all the hair on your body is standing at attention and your skin feels as if a thousand ants are crawling all over it. It’s an eerie sensation for sure and one you don’t soon forget.”

“You believe in,” she swallowed, “ghosts?”

“One hundred percent. I’ve seen proof they exist.”

She stared at him a few beats and he’d give anything to know what was behind her piercing gaze.
“And you’re not… you weren’t… scared?”

“Down to my toes,” he admitted, grinning. “But it was amazing, too.”

“How?”

“How was it amazing?”

She nodded.

“Well, for one thing, it made me a believer. Most people aren’t and when you mention you know ghosts or spirits exist, they look at you like you need to be seen by the nearest shrink and then committed. My brother-in-law is a psychic phenomena junkie. In fact, he’s the reason I believe. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

He grinned across the table at her. “Believe in ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night?”
 

2 Comments

Filed under sunday snippet

#SundaySnippet Take a CHANCE on this confirmed bachelor; #preorder #LastManStanding #fakedating

From my soon-to-be-released LAST MAN STANDING addition to the series, CHANCE.

“The trash gets picked up at midnight,” she told him, apologetically, as she led him to an ancient Volkswagen Beetle, the two front fenders different colors.

“How old is your car?” he asked when she popped the front trunk open.

“A hundred and thirty-thousand miles old.” She started placing the containers inside the spacious trunk. “But still running, isn’t a gas guzzler, and has the added benefit of being paid for.”

Chance helped her stack the remaining boxes. When they were done she slammed the hood down, turned to him and said, “Thanks,” with a smile that took his breath away.

He nodded, looked up, then down the alley.  “What time do you get here in the morning?”

“Around six. It’s usually light by then. I can get everything up and running before Lindsey comes at seven and we open.”

He nodded again.

“Well, thanks for the help,” she said. “Can I drop you somewhere? I’m heading downtown, but I can reroute if you need a lift. Or do you drive to work every day?”

He glanced down at her car. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to sit in the front seat without tilting his head to the side. “I don’t have a car in the city. It’s too stressful driving into work every day and my job’s got enough of that already attached to it.”

She cocked her head and a thought popped into the front of his head. Before he could stop himself, he said,  “Let me take you to dinner.” The request surprised him and, apparently, Freddie. Even in the subdued lighting surrounding them he could see her eyes go wide, her mouth drop open.

“Wh-what? Why?”

A good question and one he’d try to answer for himself later on. For now, though, he had the uncontrollable urge to feed her. “I’m sure you didn’t get a break all day and you must be starved. I know I am.”

The quizzical quirk to her brow was followed by, “I’m not dressed to go out to dinner.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be fancy. I love diner food as much as the next guy. In fact, there’s a great place one block up. Best breakfast in town and their burgers are insane.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“You don’t have to run home and fix supper for…anyone, do you?”

Way to go, Chance. You never even considered she might be married before blurting out your invitation.

She didn’t wear a wedding ring and in his experience women always did. It was the men who removed them or elected to keep their fingers naked.

“No,” she said.

“So, no husband waiting for you to get dinner on the table?” he asked because he had to be clear on the subject.

For a fleeting moment something he couldn’t get a bead on crossed in her eyes. Then it was gone. “That’s a little sexist, you know, assuming it’s the wife who has to always make dinner.”

She was right. “Sorry. That was stupid of me.”

Her left eyebrow rose as she considered his remark. He felt like a jerk asking again but he really wanted to know.

“I wouldn’t use the word stupid,” she said. “Maybe unenlightened.”

That pulled a grin from him.

“But no. No husband at home.”

He held back his sigh of relief, then wondered why she didn’t have a guy waiting at home for her. He knew asking would truly make him sound insensitive so he kept the question to himself.

“Then how do the best burgers in the city sound?”

Chance had always been good at reading body language. It was a talent that had suited him well when the words a client spoke often didn’t jive with the truth of the situation. Their bodies outted them every time.

When Freddie’s shoulders dropped from their hunched position under her ears he knew he was making headway.

“Look,” he said, pulling out a grin he usually reserved for friends and family, “I know you don’t know anything about me other than I’m a divorce lawyer and I like coffee.”

A half-smile slid up her face. “And corn muffins.”

He nodded. “But I’m not a serial murder, I don’t cheat on my taxes, and if you ask my sister she’d tell you other than the fact I tend to argue a point to death, I’m a good guy.”

A full smile graced her face from that declaration.

Progress.

“So what’d’ya say? Wanna grab something to eat before you head home?”

He held his breath waiting for her answer.

After a few moments when he wondered if he’d ever be able to breathe again, she said, “Well,” as she shifted her bag to the other shoulder. “I am hungry, that’s the truth. It was a long day and I didn’t get a break.”

“Is that a yes?”

Please let it be a yes.

With her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed slightly she finally –finally – nodded. “I guess it is.”

He couldn’t stop the full-wattage smile that jumped across his face.

Happy reading, peeps. ~ Peg

7 Comments

Filed under Last Man Standing

#SnippetSunday CHANCE( Last Man Standing) #preorder #comingsoon

So here’s little sumthin’ sumthin’ from my upcoming Sweet romance, CHANCE, part of the Last Man Standing series.

You all know that guy: the confirmed bachelor who vows he’s never gonna be tied down to one woman.

And you all know, as writers, we just love to see guys like this fall! LOL.

Chance Miller, divorce lawyer extraordinaire, knows the whole happily ever after dream is an urban myth. He deals with miserable and wedded warring couples every day and swears staying single keeps him sane and happy. His friends and family consider him the last single man standing and fear he’ll never find someone and settle down. But Chance relishes his carefree status and unencumbered lifestyle and has no plans to change anything.

If only his relatives would stop trying to set him up with their version of the perfect woman.

Fredrika Poole already experienced her one great love, and the widow can’t read any future romance in her tea leaves. She’s content to bake, run her business, and care for her daughter.

When Chance meets Freddie and discovers her marriage thoughts run on the same road his do, he realizes she’s the answer to his prayer for keeping the relatives at bay. But the pixie barista has a way of making Chance question everything he’s always thought about love, marriage, and wedded bliss.

Will his last man standing status go unchallenged? Or will Freddie be the one woman he wants…but can never have?

Intrigued? Read on….

Before he could stop himself, he said,  “Let me take you to dinner.” The request surprised him and, apparently, Freddie. Even in the subdued lighting surrounding them he could see her eyes go wide, her mouth drop open.

“Wh-what? Why?”

A good question and one he’d try to answer for himself later on. For now, though, he had the uncontrollable urge to feed her. “I’m sure you didn’t get a break all day and you must be starved. I know I am.”

The quizzical quirk to her brow was followed by, “I’m not dressed to go out to dinner.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be fancy. I love diner food as much as the next guy. In fact, there’s a great place one block up. Best breakfast in town and their burgers are insane.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“You don’t have to run home and fix supper for…anyone, do you?”

Why to go, Chance. You never even considered if she was married before blurting out your invitation.

She didn’t wear a wedding ring and in his experience women always did. It was the men who removed them or elected to keep their fingers naked.

“No,” she said.

“So, no husband waiting for you to get dinner on the table?” he asked because he had to be clear on the subject.

For a fleeting moment, something he couldn’t get a bead on crossed her eyes. Then it was gone. “That’s a little sexist, you know, assuming it’s the wife who has to always make dinner.”

She was right. “Sorry. That was stupid of me.”

Her left eyebrow rose as she considered his remark. He felt like a jerk asking again but he really wanted to know.

“I wouldn’t use the word stupid,” she said. “Maybe unenlightened.”

That pulled a grin from him.

“But no. No husband at home.”

He held back his sigh of relief, then wondered why she didn’t have a guy waiting at home for her. He knew asking would truly make him sound insensitive so he kept the question to himself.

“Then how do the best burgers in the city sound?”

Chance had always been good at reading body language. It was a talent that had suited him well when the words a client spoke often didn’t jive with the truth of the situation. Their bodies outted them every time.

When Freddie’s shoulders dropped from their hunched position under her ears he knew he was making headway.

“Look,” he said, pulling out a grin he usually reserved for friends and family, “I know you don’t know anything about me other than I’m a divorce lawyer and I like coffee.”

A half-smile slid up her face. “And corn muffins.”

He nodded. “But I’m not a serial murder, I don’t cheat on my taxes, and if you ask my sister she’d tell you other than the fact I tend to argue a point to death, I’m a good guy.”

A full smile graced her face from that declaration.

Progress.

“So what’d’ya say? Wanna grab something to eat before you head home?”

He held his breath waiting for her answer.

After a few moments when he wondered if he’d ever be able to breathe again, she said, “Well,” as she shifted her bag to the other shoulder. “I am hungry, that’s the truth. It was a long day and I didn’t get a break.”

“Is that a yes?”

Please let it be a yes.

With her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed slightly she finally –finally – nodded. “I guess it is.”

He couldn’t stop the full-wattage smile that jumped from him.

You can preorder your Kindle copy here or buy it in print now, here.

And it will be enrolled in Kindle Unlimited, so if you’re a subscriber, you can read it as part of your subscription fee after 9.12.2022!

Happy Sunday, peeps ~ Peg

7 Comments

Filed under Last Man Standing, sunday snippet