P.G. Forte's Blog, page 50

New Year, New Excerpt?

 

Okay I lied. The excerpt isn't really new. It's from Never Have I Ever (Games We Play, Book Two) which I'm hoping to re-release next month. It's currently available on Radish, however, along with the other books in the series, in case you'd like to get a head start on reading the books that way. But the excerpt I'm about to share has been kicking around the internet (and my brain) for a lot longer than the series it's become a part of. It started out (exactly ten years ago!) as a piece of NYE flash fiction, Luke started out as Tony, and the nameless customer at the end of the bar became a bearded ginger who'll figure prominently in the series...life is full of surprises like that. 

Here's the link to the original, in case you'd like to compare--and also because it includes the "photo prompt" that inspired the whole thing. That's Kristy all the way in the back: 

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/22658466/5845527617175808773

NEVER HAVE I EVER

Kristy loves Luke. But if anything was clear to her back when they were kids it was that gawky, awkward, tomboys didn't stand a chance with the king of the schoolyard. She watched her older brothers set their caps for Luke's glamorous cousins and get shot down. So she did what she had to in order to salvage her friendship with Luke. She hid her true feelings and her need for him to take control.
 

Luke wants Kristy in the worst way – actually, in all the worst ways: tied up, held down, beaten, bitten, whipped. But he knows he has no chance of ever having her. They'd been childhood friends and sweethearts, until she friend-zoned him in the fifth grade. He knows he can either keep her as a friend or take her to bed and lose her forever. His biggest mistake—so far—was in hiring her to work alongside him in the bar he and his cousins inherited from their grandmother. He knows Kristy needs the money and the job, but Luke's self-control can't take the constant contact with the girl he wants to dominate—both in and out of the bedroom. Something has to give—and soon! 

 Now available as a serial read on Radish Fiction at: https://radishfiction.com/stories/6761

EXCERPT:

That strip of bare skin across Kristy’s back—the one that appeared in the gap that stretched between the hem of her shirt and her pants’ waistband whenever she bent to get something from beneath the bar, as she was doing right now—had been driving Luke crazy all evening. Working this New Year’s Eve party together—why had he ever thought that was a good idea? 

Oh, yeah. The money—she needed the tips as much as the hotel needed the income they were hoping to generate with parties like this. Coupled with that was his sad and pathetic crush on the girl, and his even sadder and more pathetic hope that he might get a chance to sneak a kiss at midnight. 
The kiss hadn’t happened. When the balloons had dropped, just a couple of minutes earlier, they’d both been far too busy pouring drinks and making sure everyone’s glasses were topped off for the thought to even enter his head. 
The guests were kissing though, especially that one couple on the other side of the bar. They’d locked lips even before the final ten-second countdown had begun, and if they’d come up for air any time since, Luke must have missed it. All around them, people continued to celebrate the new year with toasts and smiles and kisses. 
“Hey, bartender, can I get another over here?” 
All except for that one guy, the big, bearded ginger sitting alone at the end of the bar, nursing his Guinness. He wasn’t a regular. Luke had no idea who he was or what the guy had thought he was doing coming here tonight. Who went to a New Year’s Eve party alone? Who sat by themselves and drank by themselves—all night—without even trying to connect with anyone else? 
“Bartender?” the man repeated. 
“Yes, sir,” Luke replied. “Right away.” 
But getting the man his beer meant passing behind Kristy, who was still bent over the bar. And that was a problem because all Luke could think about was how it would feel to press close behind her, slide his hand up her back beneath her shirt, and pin her against the polished teak surface of the bar. He could imagine the look of surprise on her face as she’d turn to look at him.
 Luke. What are you doing? she’d ask. Maybe she’d sound annoyed with him, as she often did. Or maybe there’d be a hitch in her breathing, a flare of heat in her cheeks. Maybe her eyes would grow dark with desire in that way he’d rarely seen but often fantasized about… 
 “Don’t move,” he said, using his other hand to tug at her pants, so curious to discover what type of underwear she had on.
A thong would be hot, but he doubted that was the case. Wouldn’t the strap be visible with her bent over the way she was, her tempting derriere on display? Maybe a pair of bikini panties, then…but on second thought, surely there would be lines, if that were the case?
He glanced again at Kristy’s upturned butt. Could it be…? 
“Going commando?” He raised an eyebrow, put on an expression of shocked disapproval. “Have you been a naughty girl this year?” 
So, okay, the year was, technically, only a couple of minutes old, and besides, he was a week late for the whole naughty or nice thing, but who could resist the temptation she represented? He pushed his hand deeper into her pants, seeking the wetness that would let him know she was enjoying this game as much as he was. 
She wiggled her ass, almost as though she were trying to get away, but her fingers were clenched on the edge of the bar. She rocked her hips, pushing herself more firmly into his hand with every motion until his fingers were sliding back and forth over slick, wet flesh. He leaned in even closer then and whispered, “Do you need a spanking?” 
She gave a gasp. “Luke, no. There are people watching!” Well, that was a given. Of course there’d be people watching. What good was a show without an audience?
“Let ’em watch,” he murmured, stroking harder… 
“Hey! Buddy,” the man at the end of the bar barked suddenly. “Think there might be a chance of me getting that beer sometime this year?” 
Luke started, coloring as he was jerked back to reality. “Yes, sir,” he replied, shaking his head in an effort to clear away the fantasy. 
He headed for the cooler where the beer was stored. “Behind you,” he said as he passed Kristy, his voice so thick with lust, he barely recognized it. 
She straightened abruptly and collided against him as she took a startled step backward. Her hair and the scent of her fragrance tickled his nose, and he reached for her without thinking. 
“Careful,” he cautioned, instinctively taking hold of her hips to help her regain her balance. 
“Luke.” She craned her neck to glance up at him, arching her back a little as she did, so that her butt brushed against his groin. He groaned softly. A faint flush colored her cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” 
“No problem,” he said with a weak smile. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Happy New Year.” 
Kristy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thanks.” She turned and pressed an all-too-quick kiss on his lips. “You too.” 
Oh yeah, baby. Luke slid his arms around her, but Kristy was already pushing out of his grasp. 
“What did you need?” 
You. Always. Luke was surprised she was asking, surprised it needed to be said—but only for an instant. Then he realized what she was actually asking. He motioned at the tap. “Oh, uh, get me a Guinness. Please.” 
Kristy flashed him a tight smile. Then she spun around again, grabbed a pint glass from the rack, and began pouring. He watched her in silent frustration. He should be used to it by now. Kristy DiLuca had been driving him crazy for as long as he’d known her—which was basically all his life. 
“Here you go,” she said as she passed him the beer he’d come to get. 
“Thanks.” Luke resisted the impulse to brush another kiss against her lips. 
Another couple of hours and this party would be over. He could go home and jerk off to yet another fantasy about her. He sighed and shook his head and then went off to deliver the drink. Oh yeah, the New Year was off to a great start. Not.

CONTEST AND EBOOK SALE!

 Have you seen this year's Stocking Your E-Reader Sale? Check it out at: http://bit.ly/2020StockingSale for awesome reads from today's best-selling and hot new authors in the #pnr #urbanfantasy and  #fantasy genres. 
PLUS, need a new Kindle? Enter to win one! Sale and contest runs through December 30th.  
#booklover #bookdeals #ebooks 

Free For the Holidays!

 

My Ugly Christmas Sweater story, Counting On Christmas (which is a sequel, of sorts, to Let Me Count the Ways) is currently available as a FREE READ. 

Mike's been a very good boy this year and Santa Claire has the perfect present picked out for him--one that's both naughty and nice!

​ 

***This story was originally released as part of the Nine Naughty Novelists' Ugly Christmas Sweater story collection ***

​ 
Click HERE to download.

This story is ONLY available during the Holidays--to make it a little special--and THIS YEAR, to make things even MORE special, I've decided to make Let Me Count the Ways available too.

She's thinking fling, he's thinking forever. 

 Sexy former film star Claire Calhoun is used to having her pick of studly young men. Now that she and Derek have called it quits, however, the actress-turned-entrepreneur is feeling vulnerable. After one mojito too many at a party one night, she decides it would be fun to try something new-in this case, Mike Sherman, her staid accountant and long-time fan. 

Claire has been Mike's fantasy since the first time he saw her bare it all for the camera. Now that she's in his bed he'll do whatever's necessary to keep her there. But he's not a stalker, right? He's just a devoted fan. 

Click HERE to download

And here's an excerpt from Let Me Count the Ways. Because I  love excerpts. 

Claire 

The gallery was crowded. The music was loud and not to my liking. And although some of the art on display was interesting enough, let’s face it; I wasn’t in the market for any more investments. I’d sunk almost everything I had into The Body Electric, which was still in its ‘hot new thing’ phase. Sure, business was good—for now. But who knew how long that would last? 

Still, the evening wasn’t a total loss. The drinks were complimentary and the bartender was to die for. I sipped my mojito and looked him over once again. 

He caught my look and smiled. “How is everything?” he asked, meaning my drink. 

“Just delicious,” I replied, making sure he knew I didn’t. 

Could I just say right here that I love men? For, oh, so many reasons. Just the sheer maleness of them. Even the sight of a five o’clock shadow on a rugged, square chin can turn me on. Can make my skin burn. Can make my fingers itch with the urge to touch and make me quiver as I imagine soft, sandpapery warmth in all my most sensitive places. Then there’s the strength in their hands, their fingers. The softness of their lips. The musk of their sweat. I swear those veins that stand out on their arms when they flex their muscles are enough, sometimes, to make me crazy. Not to mention the muscles themselves. 

The bartender had it all going on—including a killer smile and a soulful, sweet expression beneath a pair of jet black brows. He was an actor, of course. Just like everyone in this town. At least, everyone under twenty-five. That seems to be the cut-off. By twenty-six you know if you stand the ghost of a chance or are just marking time. If you’re still in the business at twenty-eight it’s because you’ve either tasted success or figured out that there’s nothing else you’re suited for. 

When I was twenty-five, I thought I was Money. I had it made. It didn’t last. I wonder, sometimes, if it wouldn’t have been better—for me—if it hadn’t ever happened at all. Sure, I wouldn’t have been famous, but maybe I’d have been happy instead. 

Some days it feels like I gave up a lot to get here. Others, it feels like I gave up too much. Still, even on those other days, fame does have its perks. Maybe especially on those days. I’m a name. I’m a face. And I could still recall how the game was played. 

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked, getting into the role.
The bartender’s eyes lit up. 

“Javier,” he replied, with another deadly smile. 

I pushed my glass across the bar and returned his smile with one of my own; every bit as lethal. “Well, Javier, the ice in my drink has begun to melt. Why don’t you be a darling and see if you can’t find a way to freshen it up for me, okay?” 

His smile disappeared. “Right away, Miss Calhoun,” he said as he hustled away. 

“Claire,” I murmured watching him run. Have I mentioned he had a nice butt, too? “Call me Claire.” 

Would Javier sweetie really be quite so attentive if I was just a washed-up, not quite middle-aged, no-one-in-particular? Not bloody likely. But even tarnished stars still have some shine. No doubt he thought I could open doors for him. That I knew people who knew people who would give him a break. And maybe I did. Maybe I would. For a price. 

Cold? Possibly. But don’t expect me to shed any tears over yet another aspiring Adonis. This town is full of them. And, male or female, we all have to pay our dues. There’s only one real difference between Javier and me and it’s this: when I was in his shoes I was wearing heels. 

In less than a minute, he was back with a fresh new mojito. I smiled my thanks.
“So, Claire, what are you doing after the party tonight?” he leaned in to ask, ambition gleaming brightly in those sweet brown eyes. No doubt he’d checked out the room while he was re-filling my drink. He’d obviously concluded that I was either the biggest name here or the easiest to hit on. Maybe both. The next move was mine. 

Before I had a chance to make it, however... “Red wine, please,” a man’s deep voice ordered sharply. 

Startled, Javier scrambled back to work. I turned to find Mike looming menacingly behind me. He looked quite resplendent tonight, if a little grim, dressed in charcoal pin-stripes paired with an olive silk shirt. 

“Nice suit,” I said, as I took it all in. “Fioravanti?” 

Mike snorted in amusement. “Don’t I wish. No. Dolce and Gabbana.” 

“Also nice.” I continued to study him, idly twirling the straw around in my glass. “You clean up good.” 

“Thank you,” Mike said, shooting another stern glance in Javier’s direction. The slight clenching of his jaw drew my attention higher, to the small, brownish gold stone shining in his left ear lobe. 

“Is this new?” I asked, reaching up to touch it, my fingers grazing his cheek as I did.
Mike’s eyes widened into an astonished expression. His gaze flew to my face. 

“Oops.” I grinned. “Sorry. I guess my fingers are cold, huh?” 

Mike shook his head. “No. Not at all.” Red stained his cheekbones. His skin felt very warm against my fingers. 

“Liar.” Clucking my tongue, I withdrew my hand. My eyes, however, stayed locked with his and a familiar thrill ran through me. I love being desired. Who doesn’t? I love that flash of heat that flares in a man’s eyes when he wants you. I could see it in Mike’s eyes now and it made it hard to look away. 

“Your wine, sir,” Javier murmured from somewhere far away. We both ignored him. 

“You don’t wear that all the time, do you?” I asked. 

“Not very often. Just special occasions.” 

“Oh? So is this a special occasion?” 

Mike nodded gravely. “Yes. Most definitely.”

For more freebies, please be sure and check out my holiday free reads at:  https://www.pgforte.com/only-for-the-holidays

OR join my FB reader group in the next couple of days to get even more freebies: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheCronesNest

Happy Winter Solstice!

 It's the Winter Solstice--and a very special one, what with the Jupiter-Saturn conjunction happening TODAY. And, God knows, we all need a little Christmas Magic to turn this trainwreck of a year around--or move it off the tracks or whatever metaphor works for you. But, being as it is the solstice, I couldn't let the opportunity pass to post a Winter Solstice excerpt. 

I  live for excerpts, after all.

This is from OAK (previously published as The Oak King) which is ON SALE for the next few weeks along with several of my Winter-Holiday--themed stories (details below). Enjoy!

EXCERPT:

December 1895At the time of the winter solstice
 From his vantage point, beside the farmyard gate, Kieran surveyed the seemingly peaceful scene spread out before him. The night was still with nary a breeze to stir in even the topmost branches of the nearby trees. High above his head, thin white clouds stretched misty ribbons across the sky, blotting out great swaths of stars and wrapping the half-dark moon in a gauzy embrace. Kieran studied the orb’s shadowed form for several moments, the better to divine her wishes. Fionn might claim to serve the sun alone, but Kieran, Ruler of the Waning Year and creature of the ’Tween, knew better. There was naught on this earth could escape the Night Queen’s influence. 
In a little over a week, when the moon rose full, it would be for the thirteenth time this year. A rare and unusual occurrence, it signaled a time of transition and change, a time when one might reasonably hope to alter one’s path. A hot swell of anticipation arose within him as he thought of it, the moon of opportunity and rebirth. The opportunity to change—wasn’t that exactly what he needed, what they all needed? 
Tonight. Why should it not be tonight? 
The sentinels of the forest were used to biding their time. A delay of several decades before a goal could materialize or a dream come to fruition meant little to one such as he. That didn’t mean he didn’t suffer through the waiting, however. It didn’t mean he couldn’t yearn, or covet, or long for what he could not have, what he might never have, or what he might have foolishly thrown away. 
Tonight. Please let it be tonight. 
 On the surface, the cozy farmhouse nestled in its tidy yard looked much as it had the previous year, snug, warm, and inviting, but as Kieran well knew, looks were oftentimes deceiving. 
Last year, even despite the pleasant setting, the sight of this place had sparked only fear and uncertainty within him. Tonight, the small stone building, with its whitewashed walls and slate-tiled roof, with candles burning in the windows and a lazy curl of smoke eddying from the chimney, marked the seat of all his hopes and dreams, as well as the crux of his restless discontent. Within its four walls resided everything he longed for and ached to possess. 
It was that which kept him standing out here in the cold, which made him hesitate, afraid to enter or even to make his presence known to those inside. Fear. Anticipation. Hope. Uncertainty. Excitement. Desire. Love. Regret. 
If his dreams were ever to be realized, it would have to happen sometime. It might be now, or a hundred years from now. Kieran would much prefer it be now, of course, but even a hundred years was better than the third possibility—that his dreams should die aborning and never be realized at all. 
Maybe he’d already had his chance and lost it. Maybe what he longed for now would never be his again. In truth, he didn’t know what to expect. That, at least, was the same as last year. 
He’d sped here last winter on the full moon’s bright wings and his own breathless terror, his whole mind focused on a single goal—that of saving Fionn’s life. When he’d arrived at the farmhouse, it was just in time to hear Aine’s threat to cut down his grove—and out of nothing more than spite! It had seemed to Kieran then that his fears had all been justified. 
Now, he could laugh about it. A smile creased his face as he remembered it. How fierce and fiery she’d appeared. Despite the danger she’d represented, she’d been radiant with her red-gold hair catching the fire’s light and her blue eyes gleaming like sapphires over her flushed cheeks. Even smudged with flour and seething with rage, she’d been a sight to render him almost speechless. 
She’d seemed even more magnificent in her anger and wounded pride than she had on that previous midsummer morning. She’d looked like a goddess or a proud young queen as she’d stared Fionn down. Her hands had been fisted on her hips. Her chest had heaved with every angry breath. But queens and goddesses are ofttimes cruel, as Kieran was well aware. And, in that moment, nothing about the situation had struck him as even remotely humorous. 
On the surface, his plan to stay close and keep an eye on his temperamental goddess had seemed a good one. He’d thought it sensible, rational, certainly harmless enough. It turned out, of course, to be anything but. How could he have known how disastrous it would prove to be? How could he have ever anticipated that, in the process of getting to know Aine, he would fall so deeply in love? 
The fact that she was Fionn’s bride should have been his strongest ward against her. That alone should have sufficed to keep his feelings in check. He’d been insulted when Fionn suggested he might be planning to seduce his wife. In retrospect he could better understand the Oak King’s concerns. 
On the other hand, Kieran would dare anyone to do what he had done—spend six months in Aine’s presence, day in and day out—and not fall under her spell. Over the course of those six months, he’d become hopelessly enthralled. And when it came time to leave her, the grief had nearly killed him. 
Last summer, he’d told himself he was only acting to protect Fionn when he convinced Aine to wait at home for her husband to return, rather than venturing out into the woods to meet him there. And it was true in its way; it didn’t hurt Fionn to have a moment to himself. Mostly, however, Kieran had been protecting himself. 
 The hint of despair in Aine’s eyes as he bid her good-bye had done more to warm his heart than even a thousand summer days could have achieved. It was that memory he wanted to take with him into the darkness. It was that he wished to hold on to during his months away, not her subsequent joy at being reunited with her husband.
And tonight, it was that memory that finally propelled Kieran to push open the farmyard gate, that and the hope of what he might see in those eyes tonight, if he were lucky—his own feelings reflected back at him.
BLURB:
Twice each year, Aine Murphy ventures into the woods to hold ceremonies to honor the Oak King and the Holly King, never dreaming these Lords of the Forest could be anything more than myth. When the legends spring to life in front of her, how can she help but fall for the sexy demi-gods she's loved all her life? 
 From midwinter to midsummer, Fionn O'Dair rules the Greenworld as the Oak King--a role he feels is beyond his abilities, and one that dooms him to a loveless future, forever craving the one man he can never allow himself to have. How can he resist what Aine offers--the sweet devotion that soothes his aching soul, and the slim chance to live a "normal" life as her husband, if only for half a year? 
 Holly King Kieran Mac Cuilenn never desired a human lover--until now. Seeing Fionn and Aine together fills him with longing for the love he threw away and awakens feelings he thought he'd buried with the last Oak King. Is there enough magic in the solstice to correct the mistakes he made years ago? Or is he doomed to be forever left out in the cold? 
 Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends

Online Cocktail Party

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Romance Giveaway 

June 11-30




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Going To The Chapel--take two

Yesterday I released my novella Going To The Chapel for the second time. But it's not a re-release, exactly. The venue for the wedding has been changed, so to speak. When I originally published this story--only two years ago! It was set in the Sapphire Falls Kindle World. I love Sapphire Falls. I would have been happy to leave my story there forever--and had actually planned to write a couple more stories set there--but Amazon decided it was no longer supporting the Kindle World program, which meant the secondary characters from Chapel (I'm looking at you Wyatt and Arielle) would never get their HEA.




That broke my heart. I started falling in love with my bad-boy biker from the moment he drove his loud-ass machine up Main Street. I started planning his story right then and there. By the time Amazon lowered the boom I had a title, an outline, and a cover. But without access to Sapphire Falls I really had nothing. My only option was to take the action out of town. But where?




Luckily, I had a couple of quirky, small towns of my own to choose from. Atlas Beach, New Jersey and Oberon California. I'd just written a trilogy set in Atlas Beach, New Jersey, so that was the immediate front-runner. Plus, The characters from Going To The Chapel were originally part of my LA Love Lessons trilogy. I'd already been promoting the two trilogies together under the Love From Coast to Coast slogan. So it made perfect sense to set my story there.




In addition, summer thunder storms feature heavily in Going To The Chapel, and of those two locations--Coastal California and the Jersey Shore--only one has summer storms, like, AT ALL. However, a lot of the action in the book takes place on the heroine's family's farm. And, while it's not the first thing you think of when you think of the Garden State (okay, it's probably NOWHERE on the list of things you'd think of when Jersey is mentioned) there is still some farmland to be found there--not to mention the best tomatoes EVER. But, despite all of that, Atlas Beach was just not rural enough for the story. 




Oberon, on the other hand, is plenty rural. That's part of its charm. It's also quirkier than Atlas Beach, and already has a well established festival calendar--which was something else I needed for the story to work. What it doesn't have, in the ordinary way of things, is big summer thunder storms, but on the other hand, Oberon's magical, mystical vibe doesn't actually preclude the possibility of atypical weather either. SOLD!




There were a lot of adjustments to be made moving a story from the middle of the country to either of the coasts. In some ways, California and New Jersey have more in common with each other than either of them do with Nebraska. Or maybe that's just how it seems to me, having lived in NJ and CA (and NY and FL) and only ever having visited NE. Among other things, the bonfire, skinny dipping and mud-run afterparty had to be moved from their original riverside location. Because while, yes, Oberon does have multiple small rivers, ponds and creeks, socializing on any of them just isn't part of the culture. All the beach-going and water sports (surfing, for example) take place on the Bay. Which is as it should be. lol  




Overall, I think the transplant was a success. I hope you'll enjoy this NEW edition of Going To the Chapel; and I look forward to releasing Wyatt and Arielle's story, Going Up The Country, this fall.



Going To The Chapel is currently available only at Amazon, and can be read for FREE as part of the Kindle Unlimited program.

Happy Mother's Day!

To all the mothers out there, hope you're having a wonderful day! Here's a link to a free download. Being Mom is a small collection of poems I wrote about some of my experiences of being a mom. I make no claims to being a great poet, but I thought these were fun. Hopefully, you'll enjoy them, too.









Download HERE

Last Day! HOLIDAY 99@99 BOOK FAIR

HOLIDAY 99@99 BOOK FAIR 

NEW GIVEAWAYS DAILY 

December 12-15





https://bookwrapt.com/9999-holiday-bo...






If your wallet is feeling the pinch during the holidays, but you’re looking for some
awesome new reads, you’ve come to the right place. As the name suggests, we have 99
books on sale December 12-15 for 99 cents each. Less than a buck for hours of
amazing storytelling!













Plus, check in daily for a chance to win Amazon gift cards or play instant ebook
giveaways for one of 12 books being awarded to lucky winners each day.






Look for Books from Your Favorite Authors!





Alathia Paris Morgan • Alexia Adams • Alicia Street • Allyson.R.Abbott • Angel Lawson •
Angie Wilder • Ani Gonzalez • Aubrey Wynne • Bethany Strobel • Cara Marsi • Cate
Tayler • Cornelia Amiri • Crisanne Marz • Crystal Dawn • Debbie White • Debby Conrad •
Dena Garson • Denise Jaden • Donna Fasano • EG Manetti • Eli Lang • Emily Leigh •
Gary Guinn • Gayle Parness • Honey Phillips • Jacqueline Diamond • Jennifer Faye •
Jody A. Kessler • Julie Brookman • K.A. Servian • Kat Drennan • Kate Rudolph •
Katherine Gilbert • Katie O'Sullivan • Kris Pearson • L.E. Harrison • Laura A. Barnes •
Lily Bly • Linda Nightingale • Lisa Chalmers • LJ Swallow • Lucy Naylor Kubash •
Margaret Daley • Maria K. Alexander • Marilyn Peake • Marlow Kelly • Mary Gillgannon •
Mary Vine • Melissa Belle • Mila Young • N.D. Jones • Nicole Casey • P.J. MacLayne •
PG Forte • PJ Fiala • R.M. Gauthier • Regan Walker • Rose Pearson • Selena Kitt •
Simone Leigh • Soraya Naomi • Stacey Joy Netzel • Stephanie Queen • Sydney Jane
Baily • Tamara Ferguson • Tanya Dawson • Tara Lain • Aileen Harkwood

It's a holiday scavenger hunt!

HOLIDAY FACEBOOK
SCAVENGER HUNT 

December 7-10





https://bookwrapt.com/holiday-scaveng...





Does the Christmas season already have you in a rush? Ditch your lengthy “To Do” list
for now play this fun and easy hunt! You could be the winner of our $90 See’s Candies
Holiday Gift Pack or win an Amazon gift card!





With 36 authors participating—many hosting individual giveaways of their own—our
holiday tree is surrounded with prizes for some lucky booklovers to unwrap!








Authors Participating in the Hunt





Alex Gordon • Amanda Uhl • Ani Gonzalez • Anna Durand • Anne McClane • Anne Stone
• Aubrey Wynne • Cailin Briste • Carrie Pulkinen • Christine Grabowski • CJ Warrant •
Debbie White • Donna R. Mercer • Greta Boris • Heather Karn • Holly Cortelyou •










Jacqueline Diamond • Jacquie Biggar • Jim Stein • Joanne Fisher • Karen Michelle Nutt •
Kerry Adrienne • Kerry Blaisdell • Kristine Smith • Leigh LaValle • Maria Geraci •
Monique McDonell • PE Kavanagh • Peggy Jaeger • PG Forte • S.L. Sterling • Soraya
Naomi • Stella Marie Alden • Stephanie Queen • Taylor Marsh • Aileen Harkwood

Finders Keepers re-released

I'm happy to announce that Finders Keepers has just gone LIVE! 



Sometimes finding what you want is the easy part.


Caleb is a bionic soldier with little-to-no memory of his past. Aldo's an undercover cop who's searching for the man who got away. Then there's Sally, an ER physician who used to be married to Aldo's late partner, Davis. Sally's just looking for a reason to keep on getting up every day. 

This holiday season, chance will bring them together and give them an opportunity to help one another find what they each want most. But every gift comes with a price. And keeping what they've found once they've found it? Yeah, that's gonna be the hard part.







Here are the links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07K8K8BKX

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/…/bo…/finders-keepers/id1445375713…

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1114148929…
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/finders-keepers-123




This is one of my favorite books--in part because I dreamed it up. Literally. It was an actual dream I had. Yes, while sleeping. How crazy is that?

I still remember waking up the morning after, running through the storyline in my head, and thinking, "Yeah. That could actually work!" 

It's also one of my favorite covers (the original cover art was awesome, as well. AND it contains one of my favorite scenes, which I've copied below.




***** Spoiler Alert! *****

WARNING: The following scene might give away some very important plot points, so continue reading at your own risk.




Aldo poured himself
another drink. He couldn’t believe how quickly things had fallen apart tonight,
couldn’t accept the fact that, this time, he might have lost Sally too.

Guys? Hell yeah. He was
used to losing them. And unless he
figured out how to stop falling for every attractive and painfully unavailable man who crossed his path,
he’d probably lose a dozen more. But he and Sally were friends, damn it.
Friends for life. Best friends. She was supposed to trust him. She was supposed to love him.
She was supposed to take his word
when something like this happened—not the word of some asshole she’d only just
met.

Just because they
weren’t lovers didn’t mean Aldo didn’t still love her. Hell, he loved her more
than he’d loved most of the men he’d gone to bed with over the years. Loved
her, trusted her, needed her in ways he probably still hadn’t discovered…

He’d always figured the
two of them were in it for the long haul. He figured he stood at least half a
chance of not fucking up his relationship with her—and maybe part of that was because they weren’t lovers.

He tossed back his drink
and was reaching for the bottle to pour another when the stealthy sound of
footsteps climbing the stairs reached his ears. They were too quiet, too
careful; he knew instantly who they belonged to. He put down his glass and
turned. only slightly surprised to see that his visitor had already reached the
top of the stairs. The sight still hit his overworked nerves like a fist. He
jerked as though startled, his whole body on alert, a firestorm of lust
igniting every nerve from head to toe, turning his cock to fucking stone.

Goddamn it. That made
the second time today. Couldn’t the bastard have found some other clothes to go
with those low-slung jeans?

“What are you doing
here?” Turning away, Aldo picked up the bottle and willed his hand not to shake
as he refilled his glass. Ha, fat chance
of that! He was already too drunk to control his reflexes to any great
extent, too drunk to even control his mouth. Liquor missed the glass and
splashed over the desktop. Fucking
perfect.

“I figured you’d want
to talk.”

But all that made Aldo
want to do was laugh. So he did. “I can’t imagine why you’d think something
like that…” Shit. He didn’t even know what to call the guy anymore. Kyle?
Caleb? Asshole? Hey, if the slur fit…

“C’mon, Al, don’t be a
dick. Are you telling me you don’t have anything you want to say to me? Really?
After all this time? Or after all the shit you put everybody through this week
just to get my memory back?”

“Nope. Can’t say as I
do.” Aldo waved his glass as he spoke, not really caring when the whiskey
sloshed up the sides; plenty more where that came from. “What’s the point?
You’ve made it real damn clear you’re into women now. Hell, maybe you always
were. Maybe I was just deluding myself back then. Either way, I’m through
fighting it. You can do whomever you please—just as long as it’s not me. And
for the record, restoring your memory was not
what this week was about. Not by a long shot. If that was even on my priority
list, it was waaaay down at the bottom somewhere.”

“Bullshit.”

“Truth. If I did it for
anyone, I did it for Sally. I hope you and she are very happy together. Just
remember what I told you when I first learned you were seeing her. Don’t hurt
her like you did me, and I’ll let you live. I do want the chance to talk to
her, though, and explain my side of
the story—assuming you haven’t already turned her totally against me.”

Caleb shook his head.
“You really think I’d do something like that?”

Caleb,
not Kyle. That was good. That’s who he was now. That’s how Aldo would think of
him. It was easier that way.

“You think I’d hurt her
or turn her against you? You think that little of me now?”

Or
maybe not. The bastard just had to keep driving home the fact that they had a
past together, didn’t he?
“I thought you were dead,” Aldo
reminded him. “That’s what I thought,
Kyle. So how the fuck do I know what you’d do now?”

“I was dead, asshole. Or close enough. Not that you cared.”

“Take that back.” Aldo
slammed his glass on the nearest surface. His hands bunched into fists.
“Goddamn it, you take it back right now, or I swear I’ll make you wish you were dead. I didn’t care? My husband
gets blown up or shot down or who the fuck knows—no one would even tell me how
he died—and you think I didn’t care? Losing you just about killed me.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?
’Cause you couldn’t be bothered to return any of my calls? Or respond to even a
single one of all the messages I left for you? That sounds like guilt, Al.
Guilt ain’t grief. It was still all about you.”

“I didn’t get any of
your fucking messages—not until after, not until it was too fucking late. Don’t
you think I’d have returned them if I had? And damn right I felt guilty! Is
that why you sent them? Because you knew what they’d do to me? Because you knew
the thought that you’d tried to reach me and I hadn’t been there would shred
what was left of my heart? Well, mission accomplished, asshole, so fuck you.”

“What do you want from
me?” Caleb closed the distance between them. The scowl on his face raised
Aldo’s hackles. “You’re still a self-righteous prick, you know that? What d’you
want to hear me say? That I’m sorry? For what? You left me, remember? You’re the one who called it quits, who walked away.
Am I supposed to apologize for being broken up when my husband takes it into his head to do a fucking disappearing act?
When he goes off and enlists in some stupid black-ops program and leaves me
with no way to reach him?”

“Yeah, ’cause I did
that for shits and giggles, right? ’Cause everything was so perfect between us?
’Cause you weren’t fucking everything in sight?”

“No. I wasn’t. Not the
way you thought. Still, even if I had been, didn’t I at least deserve the
chance to talk to you, to work things out?”

“How many chances was I
supposed to give you? Besides, if I recall correctly, your idea of working
things out was to fuck me until I forgot why I wanted to leave in the first
place.”

“Well, it worked,
didn’t it?”

“There’s a word for
that kind of thing, you know, and it’s not called ‘working things out.’”

“Yeah. It’s called
‘satisfied.’”

“No, it’s
dysfunctional.”

“Oh, lighten up.” Caleb
sighed. He looked tired. His face was bleak and hopeless. So was his voice as
he said, “I didn’t know what else to do, all right? I was fucking desperate
back then, and bed always seemed like the one place I could always connect with
you. After you left… Shit, I had no idea how to even find you. All I knew was
that the program you’d entered had something to do with altering brain waves.
And I got the stupid idea that if I enlisted in a parallel program, maybe our
paths would cross.”

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

“Oh, that was a great
plan.” Aldo rolled his eyes, anger churning in his gut. He couldn’t believe
what he was hearing. Kyle had let himself get carved up, worked over,
rearranged, so changed his own husband hadn’t known him—and all for what? “Of
all the stupid, shit-for-brains ideas. And people say I’m impulsive. You can’t seriously be blaming me for that screwup.
That’s bullshit. I wasn’t going to be incommunicado forever, you know. Six
months. Big deal. If you really cared, you’d have waited.”

“It felt like years.”

“No.” Aldo shook his
head. “No, Kyle, it didn’t. You know what felt like years? Years—that’s what.
Fifteen fucking years.”

“I still don’t know
what you expect me to say about that. Sorry you broke my heart? Sorry I didn’t
handle our breakup as well as you
think I should have? What do you want from me, Al? Tell me.”

“You wanna know what I
want?” Need flared inside him, a hungry, howling ache that threatened to wipe
out whatever was left of his common sense. He shouldn’t give in to it. Should not do it. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t
right. “Well, fuck you. No! You can’t just come back after all these years—come
back from the dead—and just waltz in here and expect me to tell you what I
want.”

“Why the hell not?” A
frown creased Caleb’s brow. “C’mon, you bastard, I came up here tonight to try
and make things right with you. Why you gotta give me such a hard time? Why
can’t we just—”

“Because.” Aldo
clenched his fists tighter. He turned away and tried hard not to think of the
many times he’d imagined this moment, all the fantasies over all the years. No.
It was wrong. He shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t do it. No. Fuck that.

As far as he knew,
neither of them had ever filed for divorce. If Kyle wasn’t dead—that had to mean
they were still married. That had to count for something, didn’t it? That had
to put him somewhat in the right. He spun around and then grabbed Kyle by the
shoulders. He shoved him until his back connected with one of the posts that
held up the ceiling. “Because this is
what I want, “Aldo said just before he kissed him. “The same thing I always
wanted, Kyle. You.”

He kissed him quick,
hard and demanding, before either of them could come to their senses and change
their minds. And for the first several seconds, it was bliss. Kyle’s mouth was
hot and wet, yielding under his. Aldo’s knees threatened to give way from the
pleasure, from the pressure and the taste of him. Kyle moaned low in his throat
as he wrapped his arms around Aldo’s waist and pulled him close. Aldo ground
his erection against Kyle’s, and the friction made them both moan.

This was even better
than that night in the parking lot. It was better than any dream, any fantasy,
any memory, definitely any job. It was right and perfect, and it was Kyle.
Kyle, who was not dead but right here
in Aldo’s loft, looking better than he had any right to after all these years,
and who was about to get a serious ass whipping if Aldo found any more changes
hiding inside those jeans.

Desperate to find out,
he slid his fingers into the waistband of Kyle’s jeans. He’d undone the top
button when Kyle stopped him.

“No, wait,” he gasped
as he tore his mouth away from Aldo’s. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Aldo
asked. He sucked in a breath as one horrifying possibility occurred to him.
“Fuck. You’re not gonna tell me you’re sick now or something, are you?”

“No, of course not.
It’s Sally.”

“What?” Aldo
straightened in a hurry, heart stuttering in alarm. Is that why she’d seemed so
pale lately, so quiet? “Sally’s sick? Since when?”

“No.” Laughing now,
Kyle took hold of Aldo’s face and pulled him back in for another kiss, soft and
sweet this time. “Jeez, lighten up. No one’s sick.” He ran his hands over
Aldo’s shaved head, pressed their foreheads together for a moment, then pulled away
again. “I think I love her, Al.” He sounded far too serious, and much as Aldo
knew he should be happy about that, he just couldn’t do it.

He thrust the thought
away. Maybe if he drank enough, he could forget he heard that. Write it off as
just another of Kyle’s lies. After all, he used to say he loved Aldo too, in
exactly the same kind of sincere-sounding way. And look how far that had taken
them. He probably didn’t mean it now either, and in the morning…maybe Aldo
could figure out what all of this meant then.

“Al? Did you hear what
I said?”



















































































































“Yeah. Good for you. I
love her too. That’s why I’m not going to hold it against her that she’s been
sleeping with my husband. You, on the other hand, still have a lot to answer
for.”