Tag Archives: #tuesdayteaser

#Tuesdaytease 12.24.24

The final little teaser od 2024 is from my very last DICKENS HOLIDAY ROMANCE, A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS, to get your holiday celebration underway…

Amy overheard what she said, though, and commanded, “Come here, girl, and let me give you something to warm you up.” She tugged on Portia’s arm and guided her to the booth.

“Our hot chocolate is a town favorite at this event. Made with real milk and shaved chocolate, not that powder junk they sell at the supermarket.”

Tony had just turned from handing the customers waiting for their burgers their order when his gaze connected with hers across the booth.

Portia’s breath caught when he lifted an eyebrow and bobbed his head, once, toward her.

She tried for a smile but her teeth were clattering so much she worried it looked more like a grimace than a greeting. And not all of that clattering could be attributed to the frigid air. Most of it, if she was being honest, was because of the man standing in the center of the booth.

“Here, Portia.” Amy handed her a Styrofoam cup of steaming dark liquid. “This’ll get you warm on the inside for sure.”

She had no real memory of taking the cup because her attention was zeroed in on Anton – Tony  -and watching him prepare another order. No wasted movements, every flip of his hands precise and intended for the sole purpose of preparing the food.

Why the heck was that so…so… arousing?

Good grief! I’m getting hot and bothered from watching a man flip cheese onto a slab of meat. What. The. Heck??

Without thinking about what she was doing, she lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip of the piping hot liquid, and let it roll over her tastebuds. When the eruption of heat and sweet, rich chocolate exploded in her mouth, she moaned.

Loud.

Loud enough that everyone in the vicinity heard her, including the man her eyes were trained on.

While Amy and Abra laughed, the rest of her family chiming in with their own chuckles, Tony’s head lifted, brows tugging together, hands motionless as he stared over at her, worry slicing across the downturn of his mouth.

Portia stopped breathing. She couldn’t look away from him, as if hypnotized not to. She didn’t think she’d want to if compelled by forces unseen to do so.

“You okay, over there?” he asked, the rasp in his voice deep and filled with concern.

Her head bobbed, spastically, up and down. “F-Fine. This is just,” she held the cup up, “really good. And really hot.”

Amy grinned from ear to ear. “Best in the whole state. Who wants a cup?” she asked her family.

While she poured several cups and handed them out, Portia tried to get a hold of herself, all the while Tony sneaking surreptitious glances her way while he cooked.

With the rest of the group now armed with their own drinks, Colton began leading the march up to the Common again, after first kissing his mother-in-law on the cheek and thanking her.

“What’s going on with you?” Abra said, sidling next to her on the walk.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re jumpy, something I’ve never seen you be before. You’re usually the calm in any storm, the one who keeps her head when all around her are nervous or angsty. But today you’re acting like something is bothering you. Or someone,” she added, her brows lifting with the meaning.

“I told you, Abracadabra. I’m cold. I’m not used to these temps and my nerves are flayed because of it”

“Most people don’t usually get nervous because they’re cold,” her friend shot back.

“Yeah, well I’m not most people, as you well know.” She tried to instill some haughtiness into her tone.

A quick side eye toward her friend and she could tell Abra was in hyperalert mode. She suspected something was up with her agent. That determined eye glare and squint Abra was known for was full-on across her face.

Luckily, Amelia began fussing, diverting Abra’s attention.

Portia took a jagged breath in.

Saved.

For the moment, at least. If there was one thing she knew without a doubt, Abra would get back to the questions she had.

Portia needed a distraction for when that happened.

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#tuesdayTease 9/10/24

Since I’m still promoting the preorders for my upcoming 6th Dickens Holiday Romance, A CHEF’S KISS CHRISTMAS, i figured another little tidbit about food was a good idea today.

Portia Avon is no cook. Not even close. She has one go-to item she can cook, though, and makes it for Tony when she discovers he hasn’t eaten anything in almost 14 hours. She makes him a simple ham and cheese grilled sandwich, and he thinks it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a while.

ANother little tidbit in the book that concerns eating is all the sauces Tony makes taste even better with different spices and ways of cooking them.

Food and cooking play heavy in this book and serve to show Tony the reasons why he should rejoin the “land of the living and walking around,” again.

You’ll understand that quote once you read the book. Oh, and looks: it’s up for preorder right now, here:

https://amzn.to/4g83ATZ

And it you read and review on Booksprout, you can borrow it here: https://bit.ly/47a4LOP

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#Tuesdaytease 1.2.2024

So the next book I’m releasing into the romance reading world will be book 2 in my Heaven’s Matchmaker series, LOVE MATCH, Layla and Cody’s story.

Right now, this is gearing up to be a sweet-with-heat book ( not my typical sensual/steamy). We will see where it winds up in the end.

Here’s a brief snippet – and remember: this is a rough draft, so it’s still pretty raw and unedited:

As she drove through town her stomach growled. The only thing she’d eaten all day was one cookie from the box she’d brought Effie, and now she was feeling peckish. Her gaze caught the sign for the Love Shack as she passed it, and she turned the car around and pulled into the lot. Liv had mentioned the night before it was a great place to get take-out food and they had the best burgers in three states. A loaded hamburger sounded perfect right now.

For three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, the lot was packed. She found a spot and then ran against the cold through the doors. The noise was deafening as she made her way through the jammed entranceway to the bar. Three big screen televisions covered the walls broadcasting simultaneous football games. Every table was filled with men and women in striking blue football jerseys with the Patriots distinct logo and team member names across them.

Football season was in full swing.

With cheers and catcalls from the throng aimed toward the screens, Layla made her way up to the crowded bar.

The bartender spotted her right away.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” he asked.

Layla craned her neck to look the guy in the face. He had to be six-six if he was an inch with shoulders and arms that regularly saw the inside of a gym. A shaggy mass of black waves drifted down to those colossal shoulders.

“Kick Loomis?”

One bushy eyebrow crawled up his forehead. “Who’s asking?”

Years of ingrained business etiquette had her extending her hand as she lifted up on her toes so he could hear her. “Olivia Joyner mentioned your name to me. I’m Kalya Warton. I—”

“Effie Mason’s granddaughter.” He nodded as he took her hand and cocooned it between both of his. Her own was swallowed up in its mass. “Yeah, Liv said you were visiting. And yes, I’m Kick. Your grannie’s a doll.”

“I agree.”

“What can I do for ya?”

“Liv claims you’ve got the best burgers in three states.”

“She’s not wrong.” His smile beamed like bright lights on a darkened highway.

Nodding, she said, “I’d like one, as rare as can be, to go.”

“Rare as in pink or mooing?”

She laughed. “Mooing is perfect.”

“Anything on it? Sides? Condiments?”

Her gaze glanced across the menu above the bar. “Provolone cheese, and an order of sweet potato fries, please.”

“Cop a squat,” he pointed to a recently emptied bar stool, “and I’ll get it for ya. Should be about fifteen minutes, tops. Want something to drink while you wait?”

“Diet Pepsi, if you’ve got it.”

He grinned. “Coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

She settled down just as a wave of shouts and cheers erupted from the crowd behind her. Grinning, she spun on the bar stool and before she realized someone was standing behind her, her knees banged into the person, forcing them to stumble backward.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see—you!

A pair of chocolate brown eyes peered down at her from under hooded lids.

“We’ve got to stop meeting this way,” he said, shaking his head, the ghost of a wry grin sliding across his mouth.

“Are you following me?” she blurted. The idea he could be a reporter bloomed fast and furious within her.

Those dark orbs widened as genuine shock filled his face. “What? No. No, of course not. It’s just…” he shrugged, “serendipity we keep bumping into one another. Or in reality, you keep bumping in to me. Maybe you’re the one doing the following.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and before she could protest, Kick returned with a glass in one hand, a go-bag in the other.

“Hey, Henry. Saw you come in. Got your order.” He handed him the bag, then placed the glass in front of her. “Here’s your drink, Layla.”

They both thanked him at the same time.

“Tell your folks I said hey,” Kick said.

The guy – Henry – lifted the bag and saluted. “Will do. And thanks for getting this ready so fast. My old man loves your wings.”

Kick grinned. “Music to my ears, man.” He turned his attention to Layla. “You’re order’s in.”

“Thank you.”

With a quick grin, he moved back down the bar while she took a sip of her drink for something to occupy her shaking hands. Embarrassment bounded through her and she didn’t want to confront the reason for it standing directly to her right. Three times in the span of two days she’d come close to knocking him over. Granted, she hadn’t been paying attention when she left Liv’s office so that was on her, but the time in the grocery store wasn’t her fault because of the way the aisles were constructed. And maybe she should have checked before spinning on her stool to make sure no one was close by. But still.

“I was only kidding,” she heard him say, dangerously close to her ear, the warmth of his breath shooting little tingles of awareness straight down her spine. A hint of citrus and spice hit her next and it took every ounce of will she could summon not to lean into him and sniff his neck. “I know you’re not stalking me.”

She lifted the glass in her hands, her lips firmly circling the straw as she lifted her gaze up to his face. Because she didn’t trust herself to say something inane or worse – snarky – she sucked the icy cold soda through the straw and tossed him a single nod.

His attention drifted down to her lips. She wasn’t sure because the lighting in the bar was subdued, but if pressed she would have sworn his pupils dilated when they settled on the spot, then lifted back to her eyes.

Layla knew she should swallow. The soda was so cold it was actually ice-burning her teeth. But she couldn’t. Either her body simply forgot how to, or the guy had paralyzed her ability to with the intensity of his gaze.

Whatever the reason, she sat there, not moving, just staring up at him. His eyes really were incredibly dark, the brown in them almost black. The threads of burnished red she’d noted in the natural light of day were softened in the artificial bar light, making the hair seem more like a deer’s pelt; a mix of browns, earthen tones, and lighter shades.

And again, an almost aching need to weave her fingers through it bubbled up, the tips of her fingers tingling.

Henry’s gaze stayed glued to hers as her own drifted down his cheeks to the day’s worth of stubble crossing his jaw. She’d always been a clean-shaven kind of girl when it came to her men but right now wondered why.

He tilted his head and inched closer to her, neither turning their attention from the other.

Another raucous cheer erupted from the crowd.

His eyes widened to the size of sand dollars and his entire body shook like a he’d been jolted by an electrical charge. Layla remained stone still, her lips still curved around the straw. He blinked several times before focusing in on her again.

“Well.” He shifted the bag to his opposite hand, cleared his throat. “Gotta go. See ya around. Layla.”

Publication date TBD!! Stay tuned for announcements. ~ Peg

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#tuesdayteaser 9.12.2023

A PRIDE OF BROTHERS: DYLAN releases next Monday, Sept. 18,2023. Today’s little teaser is from Harper Vale’s POV as she reads up on the new hire, Dylan Keane.

Harper peeled her sweaty clothes from her body, tossed them in the hamper, and then jumped into the shower for a quick hose down of the day. That done, she then took a moment to evaluate her arms and legs.

Old scars in various colors and lengths traversed her limbs. Some were so old the skin had turned white where they’d healed. Others were various shades of pink. The most recent – the grad school ones – were smaller, but redder in color.

Harper shook her head as she fingered several of the older ones on her forearms and then her thighs. Her scars were the reason she never wore short-sleeved shirts or shorts in public. The need to explain to anyone who noticed the scarified flesh why they hopscotched across her limbs was a conversation she wasn’t going to have with anyone – ever – if she could help it.

With meticulous care, she pumped a bottle of body lotion a few times, then slathered her arms and legs with the white, coconut-scented cream. Done, she pulled on a pair of ancient gym sweats, an old college t-shirt. Since she was staying home and no one was going to see her, she figured she might as well be comfortable and cool. Next, she saw to dinner.

But first, she had to feed her fish.

“Hey, Tony,” she said as she sprinkled some of the fish food her mother had given her as a gift for Christmas into the bowl sitting atop her kitchen counter. The single goldfish swam to the surface to suck in the flakes. “Do anything fun today?”

Tony ignored her as he darted around the bowl to catch every single flake of food before it drifted to the bottom.

“Yeah. Me, neither.”

She pulled open her refrigerator door. Her fridge wasn’t what anyone would call stocked. Several cartons of generic yogurt, a bowl of leftover spaghetti from last night’s dinner, a half-loaf of bread, and a carton of eggs were the only things on the shelves, reminding her she needed to go grocery shopping soon. The salad she’d treated herself to at lunch today was supposed to be a nod to try and eat better. She’d forgotten the prices of the salads at work were based on weight, though. Her first one had consisted mostly of lettuce and some sliced egg bits and still cost her almost four dollars. Luckily, when the new guy bumped into her and offered to replace her ruined meal, she’d opted to add more on it since she wasn’t paying. The soda and cookies she’d tossed in were an indulgent treat. And since he didn’t protest, she figured, why not?

As she reheated the spaghetti in the microwave she thought about the new guy.

Dylan.

After she’d gone back to her office she’d retrieved the email introducing him to the company and discovered his last name was Keane.

Dylan Keane.

A pretty ordinary name for a guy anything but.

She read through his biography again paying special attention to the personal stuff and not the professional achievements.

Vital statistics: Thirty-six, single.

No mention if the single status was because of divorce, never married, or something else.

Personal interests: biking, karate, running.

Now she understood why he’d been impressed with her bike. If he was an avid rider himself, he’d surely have recognized the classic Schwinn 10-speed. This version hadn’t been produced in over twenty-five years and collectors paid a fortune for originals.

Wonder what he would have said if he knew it was her first bike, gifted to her on her tenth birthday by her parents and which she’d lovingly cared for all these years?

The microwave dinged and she stood in her small kitchen, bowl in hand, and ate.

So he was a runner. The memory of his six-foot-plus, trim, long-legged body proved it. He had that classic male model physique – the inverted coat hanger. Broad, square shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and lean hips and ending in legs that went on for days.

For a tech geek he liked sporty stuff. Most of the techies she knew from work and while she’d been at school eschewed physical sports of any kind, preferring to sit in front of their screens most of the day. Gamers were the inveterate couch potato. She couldn’t picture Dylan Keane sitting in a chair with a joystick or control panel in his hands for hours on end.

Future aspirations: to be independently wealthy and one day run a non-profit devoted to helping underprivileged kids enter STEM careers.

Well, well. It seemed Mr. Gorgeous had lofty future goals. Or he just mentioned those because he knew it would look good to others.

Harper didn’t know him well enough to decide which characterization was the more truthful.

Intrigued?

You can preorder the book here if you are: POB

Add it to your GOODREADS WANT TO READ LIST here: POB

Watch the trailer here: POB

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#teaserTuesday 8.29.2023 INFLUENCE

So, I’m still hyping my newest NYC Romance INFLUENCE, and decided for today’s Teaser tuesday, to give you another little look between the pages!

Somewhere between waiting for her to arrive and when I spotted her walking into the restaurant, I realized how excited I was to see her again and not simply because I had a story to write. I hadn’t felt this level of anticipation about a woman in a long, long time.

Kissing her like that, without asking permission, or even wondering if she felt the same way I did should have felt like a mistake.

Should have…but didn’t.

And also wasn’t a mystery.

Mackenzie Craymore was, without a doubt, the most intriguing woman I’d ever met. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d been wanting to kiss her since we’d danced.

“I love walking in the park,” she said as we ambled along. We’d joined midday runners, joggers, moms and nannies with baby carriages, rollerbladers, as we walked, hand in hand.

“When we first moved here,” I said, skirting around an elderly woman walking her Schnauzer,  “I spent most of my free time here. Biking, or with my skate board tucked in my backpack. I hung out here every afternoon after school.”

“Alone or with friends?”

“Mostly alone. Later on, when we’d been back awhile I started making friends. It was hard, at first, because by the time I arrived on scene the social cliques had already formed. Life long friends who all go to the same schools, same camps, same music lessons, tend to congregate. When you’re an outsider,” I said, “It’s hard to worm your way in.”

She sighed. “Kids can be mean.”

I shook my head. “Not so much mean as insulating. And I didn’t mind being on my own.”

Anything was preferable to the silence that met me at home every day and night.

“Is that when you began writing? During those alone times?”

Surprised, I turned to find her staring up at me with the question on her beautiful face.

“That’s an astute question.”

With a careless shrug she said, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. A lonely kid, living in new place. No friends. There aren’t many scenarios that fit. I don’t picture you as the kid who sat at home and played video games all day long.”

I laughed. “Nope. Not even close.”

She nodded. “So, that leaves potential mayhem and rabblerousing, or something worthwhile to occupy your time. And again, I can’t see you being the kid who stole from the local bodega or did a little pharmacology dealing on the side.”

I speared her with a speaking glance. “I’ll have you know I can cause mayhem and mischief with the best of them.”

Her laugh was so free and easy I couldn’t help the feeling of contentment it bolstered in me. I really wanted to kiss her again, but from the dark recesses of my brain I remembered I had a job to do and no matter who alluring I found this beautiful woman, I needed to do it.

“Enough about me. I want to ask you something, something about your new career.”

Her sigh floated on the gentle breeze around us. “Go ahead.”

“Why do you do it? I mean, no offense, but I don’t think you have to work, do you? Your family wealth is solid.”

It was subtle, and if I hadn’t been looking down at her when I asked, I might have missed it, but the corners of her mouth tightened a bit, her smile loosing some of its luster.

“What’s that old saying?” she asked. “You can never be too thin or too rich?”

I wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. But I knew I had to tread lightly. Otherwise, she’d shut down even more.

“Is that why you do it, then? For the money? Because I don’t see you as the type of person who courts fame and loves the attention.”

She stopped walking and looked up at me through her sunglasses. I wished I could see her eyes, try to discern what was going on behind them.

“Let’s sit.” She tugged me toward an empty bench. The earthy scent of fresh grass invaded my senses and somewhere behind us I heard a power mower working.

Mackenzie dropped my hand, placed hers in her lap as she faced me. Shaded from the tree canopy above us, she finally removed her sunglasses by shoving them up on her head.

She looked about sixteen years old as she pulled a corner of her mouth between her teeth.

“You’re right about my family’s wealth. My great-grandfather set the next five generations up for life, and my father and grandfather have only added to the family coffers.”

I nodded.

She sighed again. “If you Googled me then you probably spotted an article or two about me from…before. From when I was younger.”

Another nod. “Lots of them, in fact.” My lips lifted.  “The gossip pages were filled with mentions of your escapades.”

She rolled her eyes. “I did a lot of stupid things when I was a teenager, and then in my twenties, to garner attention. Some I’m not proud of, some I couldn’t care less about. Once something is on the Internet, though, it’s never lost. Or forgotten.”

“Truth.”

“When you’re young you don’t care what people think about you, what they write about you. You feel invincible and that it’s no one’s business but yours what you do, or say. How you conduct your life. It’s when you get more mature that you begin to realize your actions and the opinions of others do make a difference.”

“Again, that’s true. Reputations are lost and gained on one simple act.”

She nodded. “You must know I was engaged.”

“Lucky Blumenthal. Hotel heir and ridiculously wealthy in his own right.”

“His parents built that empire. When he lost them, he personally made it his mission to keep the business growing.”

“He was a bit of a reckless wild child, though.”

“He was, but his brain for business was unparalleled.” She bit down on her cheek again.  “You know what…happened?”

I unwound her hands and pulled one into my lap, cocooning it with both of mine.  For once I didn’t think words were necessary.

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#teaserTuesday #tuesdaytease SABLE ( ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID) #comingsoon #preorder #medicalromance

Today’s little tease comes from my upcoming addition to the ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID collection, SABLE.

Sable’s a pediatrician and is sick and tired of being a bridesmaid in all her friends and family’s weddings. She’s determined that the next big wedding function she attends will be her own. Figuring out how to do that is a problem….

In this snippet, she’s trying to fend off the good intentions of her cousin’s matchmaking desires.

You can’t pick your family. ~ Sable Miller

Lord, please grant me the patience of Job.

Sable took another steadying breath – the sixth in as many minutes – and graced her oldest cousin with what she hoped was a normal smile and not an annoyed one.

“So I just knew he’d be perfect for you,” Moira said as she cut her pancakes into tiny bites, as if she were preparing it for a child.

“Moira—”

“The fact he’s never been married is a plus, don’t you think? No bad habits from the first wife to contend with. No kids to worry about sharing weekends with. Of course, I know your first question is going to be why isn’t he married if he’s so great. But thirty-six isn’t old by anyone’s standards anymore. He’s been building his business, devoting all his time to that. And it’s a success. Really. And now he’s ready for the next chapter in his life, and when he asked me if I knew any women looking to settle down, your name jumped right into my head.”

Of course it did.

“So I invited him to dinner this Saturday. You’ll be done with night rotation by then, right?”

Sable sighed and shoved her plate of barely-eaten eggs away from her. She hadn’t been hungry to begin with, but Moira had beat her to the diner and ordered for them both.

She wanted –desperately wanted – to lie and tell Moira she was still going to be working on Saturday night. But it was an easily verified fact and she knew Moira had it in her to call the hospital and find out if she was scheduled or not. She wondered if she already had and her question was merely an affirmation. Besides, Sable knew she was a terrible liar.

“I’ll be done, but Moira I –”

“Great. I told him seven, but you can always come early. In fact, why don’t you? I’ll do your hair and makeup so, you know? You’ll be more appealing. Not that you don’t do a decent job when you take the time, but you never wear makeup when you’re working, and I’d think you’d want to look, you know? Alluring.”

Alluring? This was too much.

“I’m not working Saturday night, Moira, but I already have plans. Plans I can’t, and don’t want to, break.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of plans?”

And this is why she didn’t lie. Thinking quickly, she said, “I’m having dinner with an…old friend.”

“Who?”

“A guy I knew in high school.” Stick with the truth as much as possible, she thought, because Moira was known for her grilling tactics. “I tutored him, in fact, in chemistry. You wouldn’t know him since you were years and years ahead of me.”

Okay, that was a little petty, but it felt good to see Moira’s back go up a tad. She never liked being reminded of her age.

“He’s recently begun working at the hospital and we decided to have dinner so I can clue him in to the workplace politics and such.”

Moira’s mouth stood open, a half-chewed slab of pancake sitting front and center, as she gaped across the table at her cousin.

“Is he good-looking?” she asked after finally swallowing.

“Very.”

“Give me his stats. Name. Age. Ever married? Kids? The aunts will want to know.”

Sable shook her head. “I’m not going to do that, Moira. It’s just a simple dinner. I don’t need you all Googling him and—”

“So he’s Googlable? That’s interesting. Is he a celebrity or something?”

Patience, Lord, pretty please?

If you’re interested in reading it before it’s officially released, and you’re a Booksprout subscriber, here’s the link to read and review: BOOKSPROUT

Or, you can preorder here: AMAZON

And check out all the BRIDES in the entire collection: ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID COLLECTION

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#Tuesdaytease #giveaway #preorder SABLE (ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID – Book 12)

I’m having a special TUESDAY TEASE today because it’s also a chance to win 1 of 5 Amazon Gift Cards once SABLE releases.

Here are the rules:

And here’s today’s teaser:

“Listen,” he said, “I’m starving and I imagine you are, too, since neither of us got a dinner break last night. Want to go grab something quick before heading home? The diner across the street makes the best waffles this side of the Mississippi.”

When a corner of her mouth lifted a bit, he felt ten feet tall. In the next instant it flattened again.

“I’m actually heading there for a breakfast meeting right now, so, sorry. I can’t.”

“Business meeting?”

When she rolled her eyes, he thought she looked all of sixteen years old again. Since he’d known her when she was that age, a familiar feeling of warmth moved within him.

Sable expelled a tortured groan. There was no other way to describe the sound that rumbled up from the back of her throat and blew past her lips.

“I wish it were a business meeting, but no.” When he cocked his head, she added, “I’m meeting with my cousin, Moira. She has something to”—she lifted her fingers in air quotes—“discuss with me, but I already know what it is and I really wish I had an excuse not to go.”

“Okay, now I’m seriously interested. What’s so horrible she wants to talk about?”

“Me.” Another eye roll.

“You?”

She nodded.

“What about you?”

“Not me specifically, I guess, but my unmarried, childless state.”

If he wasn’t mistaken there was a hint of bitterness in her tone, topped by a whole lot of embarrassment, solidified when her cheeks turned three different shades of crimson within a millisecond.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I can’t believe I said that out loud. And to you, of all people,” she mumbled.

He’d think about the last part of her sentence later. For now, he said, “Let me take a guess here.”

She opened her eyes and – halleluiah – looked him in the eye.

“She wants to fix you up.”

Eyes closed again, she nodded.

“And you…what? Don’t want to be?”

Another nod.

“Because? You don’t like to be set up? Or you’re already seeing someone?”

He said a silent prayer it wasn’t the latter.

“The whole thing is ridiculously embarrassing, for starters,” she said. “I’m thirty years old and can get my own dates, thank you very much. But you’d think I was either twelve and knew nothing about the world the way my family acts, or pushing fifty and looking at a lonely later life with nothing for companionship but cats and Netflix movies.”

He wanted to laugh but kept the merriment inside him, understanding she was dead serious. She hadn’t said she was seeing someone, though, so that was telling.

And promising.

Preorder your copy here: SABLE and then follow the rules if you’d like a chance to win one of those 5 Amazon GCs!

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#sundaysnippet from THE NEW YORK SOCIALITES series WOKE #romcom

Today’s snippet comes from book 2 in the New York Socialites Series, WOKE. This modern take on Sleeping Beauty was so much fun for me to write.

Waking up each day is a gift….

On her 21st birthday, someone slipped a potent drug combination into socialite Aurora Brightwell’s champagne putting her in a coma for the next ten years. It’s been a long road back, and it’s time to reclaim the life she lost and find out exactly what happened on that fateful night.

Financier Kincade Enright has his own reason for helping Aurora discover who poisoned her, but for the time being he’s keeping that – and his true identity – to himself. What he can’t keep hidden though, are his growing feelings for the one-time paparazzi darling and party-girl.

When this prince of finance joins forces with the former sleeping beauty, nothing can stop them from finding the answers they seek…or prevent the powerful emotions developing between them as they search for the truth.

SNIPPET:

“Mr. Enright,” I said when he stood and held my chair. “Thank you.”

He sat after I did, earning an approving, eyebrow-raised perusal from my mother.

“You’re welcome, and it’s Cade,” he said, his head tipping close to mine.

The subtle scent of man and soap drifted over me and I had to restrain myself from leaning in closer for a more thorough whiff. A warm, masculine scent is always so much more appealing than aftershave or cologne.

While I put my napkin in my lap, he kept his head inclined and said softly, “You’re probably wondering how I wound up at your table.”

I lifted my water glass and before taking a sip said, “It had crossed my mind since I know for a fact you were at table twenty. Since I don’t see Dominic Dupont I’m guessing you switched with him.”

His gentle exhale sounded…amused. I snuck a side eye his way and saw I was correct. The corners of his mouth were pulled in and up and for the first time I noticed a tiny dimple wink back at me.

“Dominic’s father is one of my clients,” Enright said, “and when I told him I wanted to sit at your table he agreed to switch.”

“How did you know this was my table?”

“I asked Ms. Spring.”

I peeked over his shoulder to see Dabney chatting with the person on her right. Turning my attention back to the man, I asked, “Why?”

“Why did I ask her, or why did I want to sit at your table?”

“The latter.”

That little crevasse deepened, a twin forming on the opposite side of his mouth when his grin turned to a full-fledged, captivating smile.

Oh, my.

“To paraphrase you, it’s amazing how with millions of people in this city, it can be deceptively small. Twice in one day tells me we were meant to meet, so.”

Enjoy~ Peg

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#TeaserTuesday

In addition to EVERYTHING else I’m currently doing with my writing career, I’ve begun the process of converting my first KindleVella story into book form. I hope to have the completed work ( it’s 32 chapters Yikes) ready to publish in KU on January 1. That’s a bit of a daunting date, but I seem to thrive well under pressure these days.

The episodic story did so well in KindleVella and continues to do so, I felt I wanted to offer it to a wider reading audience, so, the process begins.

Here’s a little tease from the book for today’s Tuesday Teaser:

Since first learning of their assignment, a question had been burning inside her. Anna finally gave it a voice. “Can she really be as good as we’ve been lead to believe? I mean, she’s been stuck out here in the sticks for ten years. Can she still have that edge?”

None of the current members of the SPCD, aside from Tucker, had been FBI agents when Kella was a major member of the unit.

“From everything I’ve read in her bio, she’s one smart chick,” Diego said. “Three doctorates before the age of twenty-three; tenth-degree black belt. She was the choice of the Director to head the unit after her old man was killed. She passed, so it went to Petrie.”

“And he’s never looked back,” Jemson said, a flash of humor crossing his face. In the next instant, he grew serious again. “Petrie told me a story once a few years ago when we worked on the Bordello Butcher. Remember that one?”

“I heard about it,” Diego said. “One sick dude.”

“Yeah. Petrie figured out who the perp really was because of something he remembered Kella said when she was just a kid. Seems she was always at the Bureau or Quantico with her old man after her mother died. They were working a case where the guy strangled his little boy vics and then tied a big red bow around their necks as a calling card.”

“I remember that one,” Anna said. “Required reading during training because of the age-specific profile.”

“Yeah. Well, it seems Carson O’Brien was the one who wrote the profile, but it was little Miss O’Brien who nailed the guy. She was twelve.”

“How?” Diego asked, keeping his eyes on the car in front of him as it turned off the main street.

“The team liked a coupla guys for the do-er, but couldn’t finger any of them with the limited evidence. The kid comes into the conference room one day, sees the pictures of the crime scenes all over the bulletin board, spots the bows, and tells her old man the guy’s left-handed.”

“How did she figure that?” Anna asked.

“Well, they’d all been staring at the pictures for days, and Petrie and O’Brien felt something wasn’t right about the way the victims were laid out. They thought the positioning was wrong or something. Anyway, she comes in, looks at the pictures, tells her old man the perp’s left-handed and then demonstrates it by tying her shoes first right-handed and then left. Seems she’s ambidextrous as well as brilliant.”

“I am, too,” Anna said. “Ambidextrous, I mean,” she added, her face turning color.

“You shoot both hands?” Diego asked, eyeing her in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah. My Dad taught me how to use both.”

“Well, then you should know there really is a difference in how the bow falls if you tie it left-handed,” Peter said. “Only one of their suspects was, so the team zeroed in on him and actually caught him, under surveillance, pick up his last victim.”

“Pretty smart kid,” Diego said.

“To hear Petrie talk her up, she’s the best thing that ever happened to profiling. The Director offered her anything she wanted to stay on as head of the unit. She’d had enough, though, when her old man bought it. The killer almost did her in as well. The way I heard it, she was an ounce of blood away from dying when she killed the guy.”

“I heard that story at the Academy,” Diego said. “When we took Weapons and Firearms. The instructor drilled into us how important it is to practice shooting from every imaginable angle, no matter what physical condition we’re in. That kind of training saved Kella O’Brien’s butt.”

Intrigued? I’ll keep you posted and if you subscribe to KU you’ll be able to read it.

Enjoy your day, peeps ~ Peg

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