Tag Archives: writing snippet

I’m visiting with Chris Fey, talking abt MISTLETOE, MOBSTERS, & MOZZARELLA

I’m so excited to be over visiting on Chrys Fey’s blog today, talking baout my new release, MISTLETOE, MOBSTERS, & MOZZARELLA. Stop on over and join in the conversation. Chrys just had her own new release last week, so I’m very honored she took some time our of her own book promotion to talk about my little Christmas RomCom!

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#sundaySnippet 10.18.2020

If you follow this blog you could have seen today’s book snippet from a mile away!!!

I just released MISTLETOE, MOBSTERS, & MOZZARELLA on 10.14, so of course today’s snippet it going to be from that!! Hee hee. Hey! I know what I’m doing…most of the time!

“Tomorrow you go solo,” I said, jumping out of the van. “Now that you’ve met all the regulars and they’re okay with you, I can stay back here and do my job.”

“I told you, Donna, people love to talk to me. And old folks adore me.”

“That’s the truth, if nothing else.” He handed me the van keys. “When we were kids all the old nonne in the neighborhood fawned over you, my own included.” Shaking my head I started to walk back inside but Tony shot out his hand and grabbed my arm.

“What?” The heat from his grip felt like I’d stepped into a natural hot spring on a cold, winter’s day. Instantly, my body warmed inside and out. How the heck could one simple touch do that?

“I wanted to say thanks,” he said, not letting go of me.

“For?”

“Showing me the ropes.” He took a step closer, still keeping me imprisoned in his grip. “I know you’re super busy with the reopen, but it means a lot you took time to get me up to speed. And I also want you to know how much I appreciate what you and your dad are doing by letting me be here. It can’t be easy on either of you, but you’ve both been nothing but kind and accepting, so thank you.”

Kind to old people, ridiculously good looking, and now a heartfelt and sincere thank you for something my father felt compelled to do. Was it any wonder I lost all brain function around this guy? He ticked off so many boxes on my what-I’d-like-in-a-man list it was scary. That I could picture what it would be like to be with him on a purely personal level and not just because he was on the job, proved scary, too. I’d been head over heels stupid in love with him at seventeen. It had taken a long time to get over the hurt from his dismissal after those glorious minutes in the back of his Z8.

I knew I had to keep some emotional distance from him now because Tony Roma could inflict serious damage to my heart.

Again.

My one saving grace was that I wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl anymore with stars in her eyes and looking for some positive attention from the cutest guy in school. I was an intelligent, grown woman who managed a thriving business and had self-confidence up the hoo-ha. In addition to knowing the man I wanted to give my heart to for forever would want and cherish it.

I had to ensure I didn’t embarrass myself and fall for Tony all over again when I knew the feelings would never be reciprocated. One broken heart in a lifetime was all I was willing to give to any man.

I took a breath, nodded, and said, “Just make sure you find out who killed Chico. Now, I’ve gotta get back to work.”

I tugged on my arm and he let me go.

Was it my imagination he had what looked like reluctance in his eyes when he did?

Intrigued? I hope so! You can get your copy, here:

And don’t forget to follow me on my Goddess Fish tour. Here are this weeks stops, beginning with tomorrow morning:

October 19: Two Ends of the Pen
October 20: Danita Minnis
October 21: Long and Short Reviews
October 22: Archaeolibrarian – I Dig Good Books!
October 23: Unabridged Andra’s

Until next time, peeps ~Peg

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#TeaserThursday

I’m waiting on copy edits for my third book in the MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN series, BAKED WITH LOVE, but while I wait, here’s a little something from Maureen O’Dowd’s perspective….

Lucas nodded. “He seems pretty stoked about working, something I’m surprised about. Glad, for sure, but surprised. I figured…” He shrugged.

“I know. I thought a fifteen-year-old boy would rather be any place than in a kitchen every day, but he actually asked to work most days during the week and on weekends for the weddings. We’ll see how long this enthusiasm lasts.” I grinned up at him while I towel-dried a mug.

“I don’t know, Mo. If it was me, I wouldn’t mind being stuck in a kitchen every day—”

“That’s because you’re always hungry.”

“—if it was with you.”

My hand stopped rubbing the porcelain.

Okay, what?

I’m usually fairly adept at not showing my feelings or have what’s running through my mind cross my face. Nanny has commented many times over the years I’m the person she least likes playing poker with because she can’t read me. The ability to hide my true feelings has gotten me through some testy times with my parents, a bad breakup with a verbally abusive boyfriend, and my twin’s illness then death. Plus, for as many times as we’d been together over the years, Lucas had never once guessed how I truly felt about him.

Right now, though, I was finding it next to impossible to school my features and body into its usual calm nonchalance. I can only imagine how I must have appeared to him, standing there with the towel thrust into the mug, my hand paralyzed—my body as well—as I stared up at him, silent.

“What’s wrong?” He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward me, his brows grooving toward the middle of his forehead. “Maureen?”

I blinked a few times when his hand snaked around my upper arm. A soothing, comforting warmth seeped through me from his touch. I wanted to move in closer, melt into his arms, and snuggle into all his heat. When I found myself shifting so I could, I took a step backward, mentally and physically. Lucas didn’t drop his hold but kept his hand on my arm, his other one following suit.

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m fine.” I shook my head a few times and planted what I hoped looked like a self-deprecating grin on my face.

“I lost you there for a second.” His gaze swept across my face, searching, silently questioning.

“Sorry. I’ve got a lot going on up here.” I pointed a finger at my head. “Thinking fifteen steps ahead about what needs to be done around this place.”

He waited a beat, those intelligent, intense eyes never wavering from my own. “Why don’t I believe that’s all it is?”

It was no wonder he was such a good lawman. With his gaze zeroed in on me, piercing and probing, and his voice low, deep, and commanding, almost seductively sly in its cadence, I imagined people who’d broken the law were no match for him when it came to his garnering confessions.

I pulled a Colleen-worthy eye roll. “Because you’re a cop and you’re naturally suspicious. It’s ground into your DNA. Like the green in your eyes.”

One eyebrow quirked high up on his forehead. “The green in my eyes?”

His mouth stayed perfectly straight, but I got the distinct impression he was laughing at me.

“It’s true. Your eyes are green, and you’re naturally nosy.”

His inspection grew more intense as he dipped his chin and glared at me. The heat in his stare shot straight down to my core and exploded. I’m pretty sure I shuddered.

Lucas’s fingers kneaded my arms. Every nerve ending in my body stood straight up, like I’d walked across a rug in the dead of winter and then touched something metal, sparking an electric shock. I licked lips that had suddenly gone desert-dry.

His gaze took a slow stroll down to my mouth and lingered. Enough so those butterflies finally made a break for freedom. Without any will to prevent it, my mouth fell open and I dragged in about a quart of air, my shoulders lifting, then dropping with the effort. I lost the grip on the mug and when it slipped out of my hand, Lucas let go of my arms as we both reached for it at the same time.

My reflexes are quick. Lucas’s are like lightning.

Both our hands went around the cup at the same time, but in moving for it, Lucas had to bend from his substantial height. When he did, our heads connected and a resounding thwack echoed around us.

Ow.” I let the mug go free into his hand and palmed the spot of contact on my forehead. “Your skull’s made of cement.”

Lucas placed the mug on the counter, then tugged my hand off my head.

I swatted him away. It was like slicing air because it had no effect on halting him from touching me.

“Let me see. Stop squirming.” He cupped my chin to hold me in place.

In all honesty, I’d gone statue-still again the moment his hand curled around my jaw. I knew Lucas’s fingers were strong, an effect of being a life-long shooter. Thick-skinned, coarse, and powerful, his grip was surprising gentle though, as he held my face in one hand and pressed against the throbbing notch on my forehead with the other.

“You’re gonna have a goose egg.”

“And whose fault is that?” I mumbled.

“Better get some ice on it, fast.”

This time when I glanced up at him, he was attempting—and failing—to hide a grin.

Through narrowed eyes, I said, “Thanks for the advice. Mind letting go of me so I can?”

Lucas glanced at the hand wrapped around my chin, frowned, then drew his attention back up to meet my eyes.

Calling them green hadn’t done them a bit of justice. There are so many variations of the simple color, and none of them applied to Lucas.

They weren’t the bright green of a shamrock or the metallic sheen of jade. Neither were they pale like sage nor brilliant like winking emeralds. The purest and most accurate way to describe them was they mimicked the color of fresh moss at midnight: deep and dark with shards of yellow in the mix reflected in moonlight. Long lashed with a tiny tilt at the corners and subtle lines fanning out to his temples, Lucas’s eyes had always been captivating to me. Right now, with his hand holding my chin, and his body so close I could detect the brand of soap he’d used in the shower, they were mesmerizing.

The air between us changed in a finger snap. Energized. Ignited.

Something in Lucas changed, as well. His shoulders were drawn up almost to his ears, and his breathing went a little deeper, a little louder as we stood there. The groove between his eyebrows folded inward even more than it usually did. When his tongue flicked out and crossed over his bottom lip like mine had a few moments ago, I bit down on the need to press my own mouth to his.

I may have moaned.

The swift inhale Lucas took convinced me he’d heard the sound and recognized it for the naked desire it was. The hand at my chin tensed and drew me in closer. So close, I could count every hair of the afternoon stubble shading his etched cheeks and strong jaw.

An insane urge to run my tongue along the length of that shadow hopscotched through me. I might have succumbed to the impulse if Robert’s voice hadn’t spilt into the room.

“Dad?”

We both blinked at the sound.

“What’s going on?”

“Maureen dropped a cup,” Lucas told him after a moment, his attention never wavering from me. His voice was thick and low. “We bumped heads when we went to get it. Grab some ice from the freezer, would ya, son?”

“There’s a cold pack in there,” I said, stepping back when Lucas finally freed his hold on me.

He stood, immobile and silent, in front of me while his son set about his task.

I’d give anything to know what he was thinking, but his expression had gone back to its usual relaxed one. His body, though, remained stiff and tense.

Robert handed me the cold pack and said, “Here.” When he glanced at my forehead, he added, “Ouch. Dad, you hurt her.”

“It’s nothing,” I said, wrapping the pack in the dishtowel I still held in one hand. I placed it against the throbbing ache I now felt on my head and winced. “Okay, ouch is right. But it was an accident, Bobby-Boy.”

I wanted to alleviate the troubled expression on his face, so I added, lifting my lips in what I hope was a comical smirk, “Your father’s got a head like a rock. No surprise, there.”

My quip hit its intended mark as both of the men in my kitchen grinned. Lucas’s shoulders finally relaxed, and the ghost of a sigh slid from him.

They left shortly thereafter with Lucas promising to have his son to work on time in the morning.

Intrigued? I’ll put up release dates and a cover when I have them. Until then, be well, peeps.

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Filed under A Match Made in Heaven, Writing