Peggy Jaeger's Blog, page 243

BUSY is a four letter word!

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I saw a report on the news last night that stated 1 in 5 KIDS under the age of 6 are stressed out. For teens, the number is 3 in 5 and for adults, 1 in 2  are feeling so stressed it is effecting their health, their happiness, and they psychological wellness.

These numbers staggered me. If this is the normal amount of people experiencing stress on a daily level, what the heck must it be like during the holiday season? Those levels must jump to the stratosphere.

I found this definition of stress in my computer’s dictionary: a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances.

What is so demanding that 1 child in 5 under the age of 6 has to be stressed about? Well, the answer is probably clearer than I think. Single parent households, poverty, not having enough to eat, bullying. All those things will increase a kid’s stress levels, so I get that. Teens are so hormonally off the charts anyway, that the slightest tweak in a day can set their stress skyrocketings. Adults, well we all know the stressors attached to trying to make it in the world these days. Add in the very possible threat of nuclear war or a homeland terror attack and, well…’Nuff said.[image error]

The title of this blog is another factor in the stress I feel too many people around the holidays experience: we are friggin’ BUSY. Busy trying to squeeze in a little present shopping; having to attend the annual office party; getting the traditional cookies baked and wrapped and sent via a postal service that is getting more crippled every day. Then there’s the added stress of the relatives. People you’ve managed to avoid all year are now going to be sitting across from you at grandma’s table talking about stuff you’d rather not like politics, religion, healthcare.

Simple equation: BUSY + Holidays = STRESS. So when I call BUSY a 4 letter word, you know what  I mean.

Now, the antidote for all this stress, if there is one, should be bottled and given away for free. My simple solutions have worked well for me for years. I don’t stress out about all the stuff I need to do, places I need to go, or the people I absolutely need to see around the holidays anymore. This is what I do instead.

Less is more in decorating. I used to decorate the entire inside of my house for Christmas. It got so cluttered I couldn’t move around in it. So, less decorations=less time decorating= less stress. ( Yes, I still have 4 trees, but 3 of them are little!)    [image error]
You don’t need to have the party of the decade every year. I used to have a HUGE holiday party and did all the food prep. Yeah. It’s a wonder I wasn’t institutionalized for exhaustion after each one. Now, I have a simple, small dinner once a season with my closest friends, that I call a Christmas Comfort food Dinner. The menu is all comfort foods – mac and cheese, fried chicken, chili, and of course desserts. I tell my guests they can come in slippers, pajama pants, sweats, if they want. This is an evening filled with fun, good friends, and no stressing about what to wear, what to bring, and how long to stay. In fact, I have to shoo my guests sometimes out the door!!
Do a Secret Santa for family gifts or have a Yankee swap. Now, I love presents, especially presents for me. This concept of not getting a present for and from every family member was a hard one for me to accept. But. In the end, it works out better. Less time spent trying to find the perfect gift for everyone, less time spent shopping and fighting the hoards, less time wrapping, carting, and obsessing if they’ll like it.   [image error]
Realize the people you want to see and keep in touch with are the ones you already do. AKA, no Christmas cards. I stopped sending Christmas cards years ago because 1. it took forever to do, 2. I hadn’t seen nor heard from a lot of people on the list since college. With Facebook and other social media now, you can keep in touch with the people you really want to very easily. I don’t really care that a girl I spent one semester in college with now has six kids, all are traveling abroad ( and I’ve never met them) and she needs back surgery in the new year. I haven’t seen this chick since 1980. Wouldn’t know her if she passed by me on the street.   [image error]

Now, those are only 4 things I do to make the holiday season less busy and stressful. I’m sure you’ve got some good ideas as well. Share them in the comments section if you do!

And when I’m not busy – because I’m not! – you can find me here during the workday: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// Book Me

 ANd because I’m a shameless self promoter ( AKA WRITER!) another way to destress is to sit back and enjoy a good book. I’ve got one sale right now for one more day. It’s alittle Christmas tale of love and family and food. Enjoy:

A KISS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.

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Gia San Valentino is the beloved baby in her large, loud, and loving Italian family. Family dramas, passion, and food rule the San Valentino clan, and Gia takes it all in stride, her family the touchstone of her life. But with Christmas fast approaching she longs for a life and home of her own with a husband and bambini she can love and spoil. The single scene doesn’t interest her and the men her well-meaning family introduce her to are all wise guy wanna-bes, with old world views on women – the pregnant and barefoot kind – just the type of man she’s trying to avoid.

When Gia lends a helping hand at her neighborhood parish’s Christmas Festival she meets a guy who has all her requirements for perfect-man status. Tall, sweet, good looking, and from a big Italian family of his own, it seems she might finally have found a man she can give her heart to.

Tim Santini believes he’s finally found the woman for him, but Gia will take some convincing she’s that girl. A misunderstanding has her thinking he’s something he’s not.

 

Can a kiss stolen under the Christmas lights persuade her to spend the rest of her life with him?

Why my Christmas Tree ornaments mean so much….

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Memories can be captured several ways. I tend to like the physical way of remembering things – getting a program at a concert (despite the fact they are a gazillion dollars now!); keeping the seat stubs from a Broadway play. One way I love more than any other is the acquiring of Christmas tree ornaments. (BTW – that tree above is not one of mine!!!)

I routinely have 4 Christmas trees on display in my home each year.

Yeah…I know. But when you grow up poor, stuff takes on a new meaning when you have spending money!

Anyway….about those trees. Or more directly, the ornaments.

Since I’ve been married I’ve been acquiring ornaments of memories. I have one tree that is loaded with ornaments purchased from all the places around the world we have visited. I have another tree with all cooking and baking related ornaments because for several years I hosted an annual cookie swap with dozens of friends. As a thank you for them coming to my swap, they not only got cookies, but an ornament cooking/baking related for their own trees. I kept one for me each year.

My husband is not the lover of ornaments that I am…not even close! But there is one ornament that he insists get put up on our tree every year and it is the one he looks for when I’m done decorating. This is it:

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Yes, that it a Goodwill box, and yes there is a tree sticking out of it. I want to tell you story behind this favored ornament.

Hubby moved to Wisconsin to start a new job six months before we got married. I stayed behind to plan the wedding and to finish up my Master’s degree. With just one course left, I didn’t want to leave until it was completed. Hubby was due to come back to NYC for our wedding which would take place the day after Christmas ( Boxing Day for you UK-ers). He had a small apartment that I would move into with him until we found our perfect house. As I’ve mentioned, Hubby is not the Christmas decorator in our family so the apartment was bare of all holiday accoutrement.

One day, on his way to work, he spotted a Goodwill box in the parking lot of the building he worked in. Sticking out of it was a fully tinseled Christmas tree, complete with the star at the top. Obviously, someone was going away for the holidays but didn’t want to just toss their tree into the garbage, electing to put it in the Goodwill box in the hopes some needy family would see it and have their own tree.

Hubby is a fast-on-his-feet thinker. He pulled the tree from the box- it still smelled fresh and evergreen-y – and drove it back to the apartment . The stand was attached ( smart donators!) so he filled it with water and went back to work. And that’s the way it stood in the apartment. No other decorations, just the tinsel and the star. He came home to NYC for a few days, we got married, and immediately flew back to Wisconsin because he didn’t have enough earned time for a honeymoon. Needless to say, when I saw the tree I was thrilled. And touched.

And then he told me the story of how he’d acquired the tree.

And I laughed because this is my hubby in a nutshell!

Of course, he had to share what he’d done with his co-workers before he left to get married. When he went back to work on Monday there was a wrapped gift from one of the people in his office. It was the above ornament, handcrafted by the husband of an officemate who is a woodworker. Every year now for the past 30 years that ornament sits in a place of honor on our Christmas tree and Hubby looks for it to make sure it’s there.

I love the thought of ornaments as platforms for memories. If I keep making more memories, though, I’m going to need a bigger house for all the trees!

I’ve got a Christmas book out that I hope makes memories for the people who read it. If you’re interested, here’s the link: A Kiss

And if you need to find me in cyberland, I’m usually here: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// Book Me

 

How can I pick just one??

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We’re winding down on the 52-week blog. Just a few entries left and today is such a hard one for me. I have to share a favorite recipe with you all. Just one. One recipe. I think I mentioned before I am a cookbook hoarder. Truly. I own upward of 130 cookbooks from all over the world and from all eras – case in point, I have a church-sponsored spiral bound cookbook from a Methodist church dated 1913. EVERYTHING, EVERY SINGLE RECIPE calls for whole milk, real butter, pork fat, or fresh cheese. Proof that nutritional times have changed greatly in the past 100+ years!

Any hoo…I digress.

I delved deep into my recipe card files, trolled through my holiday food prep books and came up with a family and friend favorite that’s easy, delicious, and depending on how you make it not too too too calorie-laden!

My Chocolate Trifle

I made this just last week for a holiday party and was smart enough- for once – to snap a pix.

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Here’s the EASY recipe ( the harder one follows!)

Ingredients

1 box of any commercial brand chocolate cake

2 16 oz tubs of Cool Whip Lite

1 5 oz box of instant MyTFine Chocolate, sugar-free  pudding

Crumbled chocolate bar of your choice ( I use the Cadbury Chocolate Orange that comes out at the holidays)

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Instructions

Prepare and bake the cake as directed on the cake box using 2 9″ round baking tins
Prepare the pudding and chill
Once the cake is baked and cooled in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours, place one complete cake round into the bottom of a trifle bowl. You can either place it in one whole piece, or crumble the cake up.
next, layer one tub of cool whip lite over it. Smooth it out so you get two distinct lines of color
next, layer 1/2 the pudding over the cool whip. Smooth it out so you get 3 distinct lines of color.
Repeat steps 3-5 with the other cake round, the other tube of cool whip and the rest of the pudding.
top with crumbled chocolate bar pieces or you can shave the chocolate on top if you prefer small chunks.
Cover with plastic wrap and chill for 2-4 hours.

Delish!

Now the harder recipe ( and the one I make!!!) And the reason the above picture has 3 cake rounds instead of two!

Ingredients:

a. for the Chocolate Cake:

1 1/2 sticks of unsalted butter at room temp

3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

3/4 cup all purpose white flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 cup refined sugar

3 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup sour cream

Instructions:

1.oven goes to 350 degrees to preheat. Take 3 9 inch cake pans and grease them

2.In a bowl, mix the cocoa, flour, and baking soda together and set the bowl to the side. With a mixer, cream the sugar and the butter until soft and light. Beat in one egg at a time on low speed. Add the vanilla and mix. Then add in half the flour and cocoa mixture, then the sour cream. Finish with the remaining dry  ingredients.

3. Pour into baking pans evenly, about a 1/2 -1 inch each to make even layers.

4. bakes for 20-25 mins, or until a toothpick comes back clean when placed in the center. Oven temps vary. Check at 20 minutes and every 5 minutes until this happens.

5. cool completely.

b. For the pudding:

Use either  Packaged instant or the packaged kind you have to cook. If you use the old-fashioned kind, make sure the pudding is completely cooled and set before the layering starts.

To assemble, see the instructions as above. Cake/cool whip/pudding. Finish with a  cake layer ( like my pciture_ and top with candy.

Both the easy recipe and the from scratch one are delish!!!! To save calories, substitute skim milk for any whole asked for,  use cool whip LITE and SUGAR-free pudding made with skim milk ( not whole)

Every single time I make this whether it is for a dinner party 0f 6 or a group gathering of 10+, it is GONE. I never have left overs of this dessert. Ever.

I can’t wait to see what recipes the other authors in this blog hop have to share. I’m sure to pick up some new goodies!

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1.
My Favorite Recipe #MFRW




2.
Holiday Recipe Time!






3.
Family Favorites




4.
The reason we have Weightwatchers






5.
Simple Everyday Cooking




6.
A Heritage – Lokse






7.
One of 365 plus ways to cook chicken




8.
My Favorite Recipe Isn’t Made By Me






9.
Good Food and Memories of Long Ago




10.
Quick Enchilada Casserole from Kris Bock






11.
Anything with Garlic




12.
My Green-Onion Cheese Ball Recipe for the Holidays






13.
Secret Recipes and Family Favorites




14.
Don’t Make Me Pick! (My Favorite Recipes!)






15.
How can I pick just one??

 

An #authorinterview with #Writer Mary Morgan

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Another one of my fabulous Wild Rose Press sistahs is joining me today for a sit-down interview! Please give a warm welcome to Mary Morgan. Mary has a new historical book out just in time for the Holiday gift giving season!!! She’s giving us a little preview of it today and I’m sure after reading the blurb and excerpt you’re gonna head right over and click on one of the buy links! Here’s Mary.

Mary: The Writer 

What drives you to write? The passion of my stories. They demand to be told, and I love weaving a good tale. It’s the Irish bard within my blood, and writing is another way for me to breathe.
What genre(s) of Romance do your write, and why? Historical, Paranormal, Time Travel, Fantasy. It’s a mixture of everything I love—from Celtic Mythology, history, and a yearning to return to the past. Often times, I’ve stated I’m a woman in the wrong century.
What genre(s) of Romance do you read, and why? I’m an eclectic reader, and it depends on my mood. During the spring, it’s regency romances. Summer is a mixture of fantasy, contemporary, and non-fiction reads. Autumn is mostly paranormal (I love a good vampire romance). And during the holidays and winter, it’s mostly short holiday/winter romances, in particular the Harlequin seasonal historical. They’re short and a perfect way to keep me in the spirit of the season. It’s a ritual I started when I worked for Borders Books. The retail industry can put a damper on anyone working during that time of year.
What’s your writing schedule? Do you write everyday? I write every day. Monday-Saturday, my day begins at 5:00am. I tend to all the business side of writing—from checking emails, writing blog posts, and scheduling social media blasts. At around 9:00, I go for a walk, bike ride, or yoga. Not only do I get in exercise, but also I’ve found this to be a good time to plot out scenes for the day. It’s what I call, “my character round table.” I’m listening to where they (my characters) wish to go. My writing hours are generally from 11:00 (thirty minutes for lunch) until 5:00-5:30pm (I turn into a pumpkin after 6pm). On Sundays, I print out what I’ve written during the week and do line-edits on the couch. I love looking at my book this way. It’s a wonderful time to edit, add, delete, and really read the story. I call this my “down time.” Recently, I’ve challenged myself to write seven to eight hours one day a week. It’s phenomenal. I shut out the real world and dive into my story early in the morning.
Give us a glimpse of the surroundings where you write. Separate room? In the kitchen? At the dining room table? The magic happens in the corner of my bedroom overlooking my garden. My writing desk is an antique (approximately 300 years old). To my right is my father’s desk he had as a child. Books on writing, history, and Celtic mythology surround me. Ancient maps, stones (from my travels in Europe), and crystals are tucked into nooks within the desk. In addition, I’ve become a collector of blades—from owning a claymore to a small sgian dubh, a Scottish small, single-edged knife.
Are you the kind of writer who needs total quiet to compose, or are you able to filter out the typical sounds of the day and use your tunnelvision? Yes, I require a quiet environment. However, I’m usually in my room with the door closed. I envy those that can go to coffee places to write. There’s too much energy, and I wouldn’t be able to focus on my writing.
Do you listen to music while you write, and if so, what kind? If not, why not? Music is my muse, especially Celtic music. I have a huge collection of instrumental music on my computer. It fuels the emotions. The only time I don’t listen to music is when I’m doing edits from my editor. I need total concentration.
How did you come up with the plotline/idea for your current WIP? Desmond O’Quinlan first appeared in Dragon Knight’s Axe, Order of the Dragon Knights, Book 3. He’s one of Fiona’s (wife of Dragon Knight Alastair MacKay) brothers. He kept tapping me on the shoulder (and sometimes yelling), requesting his story. Apparently, he had unfinished business with Alastair MacKay and was harboring resentment toward the Dragon Knight for leaving his sister. I loved returning home to Scotland, the Dragon Knights, and their families.
Which comes first for you – character or plot? And why? The character. I see them all standing in a Great Hall within a castle, demanding their story. Usually, there’s a sequence of events that will place one before the other, but I’ve found that when the strongest character will voice his/her reasons, I’ll listen and go from there.
What 3 words describe you, the writer? P assionate. Romantic. Bard. (Peggy here: LOVELOVELOVE that!)

 

Mary, The Person:

Tell us one unusual thing about yourself – not related to writing! I’m a Beauty and the Beast fan. The television series (late 1980’s) starring Ron Perlman and Linda Hamilton.
Who was your first love and what age were you? A boy in my history class and I was thirteen.
If you could relive one day, which one would it be? Think GROUNDHOG DAY, the movie for this one – you’ll have to live it over and over and…. Summer Solstice 2000 on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Mystical, magical, and one that remains with me.
Do you like a guy in boxers, briefs, or commando? Definitely commando.

#AuthorInterview with Alyna Lochlan #BookPromo #bookHugs

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Today, I’ve got an interview with a new writer to me, but she’s a Wild Rose Press sistah, so I know she’s fab! Please give a warm welcome to author Alyna Lochlan as she tells us a little about herself and then gives you a peek at her newest release – today! -of DRAGON LAIRD.

Welcome, Alyna…..

Alyna, The Writer

What drives you to write?

I love to read and have built stories sense I was a little girl. I wrote my first story in kindergarten with a friend illustrating it.

What genre(s) of Romance do you write, and why?

I have always loved fantasy and paranormal. The magic and adventures with unseen twists and turns then add in a sexy vampire or a dragon and sorcerer is awesome. Past or future it works for me.

What genre(s) of Romance do you read, and why?

I read the same genre I write. I am hooked on fantasy and paranormal. I also love to read historicals as well.

What’s your writing schedule? Do you write every day?

Yes I try to. I schedule to write one thousand words a day and have twenty-eight books in the works with four series. J

Give us a glimpse of the surroundings where you write. Separate room? In the kitchen? At the dining room table?

Normally I write in my office. I sit at a large wrap around desk with two computers and three monitors. I have music and candles going and shelves with dragons on them. Many of the dragon statues have come from fans. I love them. I display everything fans send me in my office. I will also write on the back porch in sunny weather, and if it’s late I will sometimes take pen and paper to bed with me and write there. I always have a pen and pad by my bed so if an idea pops up I can write it down.

Are you the kind of writer who needs total quiet to compose, or are you able to filter out the typical sounds of the day and use your tunnelvision?

I can get distracted easily. I have to turn off my phone and I use earphones with music to loose myself in the story. I love to burn candles as well.

Do you listen to music while you write, and if so, what kind? If not, why not?

Yes this is an important part of my writing. The music I listen to goes with what I am writing. Hard fast rock with battle scenes and music with a strong beat goes with sex scenes. Music for me is inspiring.

How did you come up with the plotline/idea for your current WIP?

Funny that normally the characters come to me and start bombarding me with their stories or I will dream an idea and have to write it down. I even get ideas in the shower and that sucks because I have to wait until I get out to write it down.

Which comes first for you – character or plot? And why?

The character comes to me and shows me a scene of their lives and then hounds me to get it down on paper. I have a DVR movie that runs through my head so I can see, hear, smell, and taste everything the character shows me. And if I don’t get it down on paper it’s like the movie got stuck on repeat and plays over and over like the movie groundhog day.

What 3 words describe you, the writer?

Passionate, dedicated, imaginative.

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Alyna, The Person:

Tell us one unusual thing about yourself – not related to writing!

I have a graphic design business and love to can and preserve food.

2. Who was your first love and what age were you?

His name was John and I was 14

3. If you could relive one day, which one would it be? Think GROUNDHOG DAY, the movie for this one – you’ll have to live it over and over and….

The birth of my daughters would be right up there. Loved every minute of it.

4. Do you like a guy in boxers, briefs, or commando?

Oh baby commando is sooooooo hot. Love that idea.

5. If you had to give up one necessary-can’t-live-without-it beauty item, what would it be?

This is hard. I have to have my mascara. I hate to go out without mascara. LOL

6. What three words describes you, the person?

Creative, busy, loving

7. If you could sing a song with Jimmy Fallon, what would it be?

LOL it would have to be, Whip my hair.

8. If you could hang out with any literary character from any book penned at any time line, who would it be, why, and what would you do together?

I have a bad boy vampire named Blade I am writing now that I so love, and honey I would do anything he would let me do with him. LOL

Bonus round

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I love the Actor’s Studio show on Bravo, so this is my version of it:

Favorite sound

Wow do I have to choice only one? I can’t do that. I love Two steps for Hell, Sickicks, Chainsmokers, Sucide sheep or only a few. Music to me is like breathing.

Least favorite sound

I don’t do rap. I just can’t get into that.

Best song every written

Barbra Streisand – Somewhere. Love this song. Inspires dreamers to make a world where everyone is accepted just the way they are. J

Worst song ever written

I don’t listen or remember songs I don’t like.

Favorite actor and actress

Actor: I think Jason Momoa is soooo hot he is Blade in my new book Tame the Blade coming out in 2018.

Actress: I have always like Angelina Jolie. After her movie tomb rader I was a big fan.

Who would you want to be for 1 day and why? ( It can be anyone living or dead)

LOL you didn’t offer anyone that is fictional. If it was fictional I would be Laura Croft. But if I had to pick someone in real life, I would say myself. I like the person I am. Wink.

What turns you on?

I really love a confident guy. A man who’s not afraid to tell me what he wants or his likes. A man that knows who he is and can be in touch with how he feels and his needs.

What turns you off?

I don’t care for winy people at are negative about everything and feel they need to point out everything that can or will go wrong. Yes shit happens so what. Life is an adventure. Live it to the fullest. J

Give me the worst 5 words ever heard on a first date ( here’s mine: “Is that your real hair?”)

LOL “Are you paying for mine?”

What’s your version of a perfect day?

Sunny in the 70’s, sun sinking over a mountain range. You on the over hanging porch in a large cushioned lounge, cuddling with your favorite man, drinking your favorite beverage. Music playing and a log fire burning in the fire-pit close by, and the man can’t keep his hands off you.

Blurb for Dragon Laird:

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Enchanted as a child, Rhiannon grows up hidden, safe from a destiny that could be disastrous to her world. But when an evil sorcerer, seeking to destroy the Power of Two, opens the veiled gate that holds the dragons underground, Rhiannon must emerge. She must find the warrior marked with the dragon’s flame, for only he can defeat the evil devouring the land.

Laird Dylan is a shadow in his own keep. Branded at birth with a dragon’s head mark, he is shackled to a cursed life. Now dragons lay waste to his land. But his duty to stop them is derailed when he meets a woman who is unafraid of his shadowed past—a woman he could love.

In the midst of evil, Dylan and Rhiannon find a love more powerful than dragons and sorcerers. But will it be lost to save the world they know?

 

Excerpt:

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When Laird Dylan’s gaze touched hers, the breath left her body. It was as if her soul somehow connected with his. He was the very image of the warrior from her dreams, but could they be one and the same? Could this be the man Dela had spoken of, the enemy who would be hers? She wondered how he would affect her life, this man from her vision. She placed a hand over the moonstone lying under her shirt and felt its cool surface. There was not evil within the walls of this castle. She couldn’t look away from him, but he broke the gaze first, as he continued his inspection of the prisoners. A guard to her right yelled, startling her from her thoughts. “Kneel ’afore the Laird Dylan MacGregor.”

Rhiannon watched the members of her clan kneel one by one. Some of the men were bleeding, and most of them were muddy and defeated. A new shaking took over as anger filled her.

Her thoughts turned to the women without husbands, children without fathers, and sisters far from their brothers. When all knelt but her, she knew she would not and stiffened her spine. She would endure this humiliation. She stood up for all that died that day.

The guard advanced, pulling his sword free. “Kneel or I shall cut you down where you stand.”

Never taking her gaze from the Laird, she spoke clearly, “My knees are stiff from the mud and blood. They will not bend.”

She knew they saw through her lie from the expressions of surprise, open irritation, and even apprehension. The warrior sneered and moved to strike her.

There was a stirring among the people kneeling on either side of her. The spirit was returning to them and though unarmed they would protect her.

The MacGregor’s eyes narrowed. Their dangerous sparkle pierced her soul. She knew he saw the peril of more bloodshed and barked a command before the blade met her flesh.

“Hold!”

The guard stayed his hand and turned toward his laird. The blue fire in the MacGregor’s eyes severed her failing courage, yet she could not find the strength to bend her knees.

“Lad, speak truth, why do you not kneel, knowing you will be struck down if you do not?” The laird asked.

Before she could hold her tongue, words bubbled forth. “The MacKays have been humbled enough. We have lost this day’s fight and have yet to bury our dead. We concede to your victory for battle is honorable. But we will not toss our already wounded pride and honor upon the floor to be trampled.”

A few gasps echoed in the hall from those standing about, followed by a deathly quiet. Even the hounds that sat around the Laird’s feet raised their heads from their bowls.

All waited to see what Dylan MacGregor would do. He held her gaze for a long time, making her uncomfortable. Again, she felt him piercing through her disguise to touch her very soul. He wanted something from her. What, she didn’t know.

“You speak well, lad. You have courage to speak truth. For this, we will leave you your honor.”

He turned to the Highlander who had commanded them to kneel. “Put a task to each man, then find them a warm place to lay their heads and someone to bind their wounds. They may start work on the morrow. The lad will serve me.”

She gasped and curled her toes in worry, but gave no other outward sign of her terror. Had he guessed she was a lass and not a lad? Would he take her maidenhead before the night was through? It was his right as victor. The laird still had his dark gaze locked on her, and she had no wish to give her fears away. She had a part to play.

As each MacKay passed, they slapped her on the shoulders to show their pride. Several slaps almost sent her to the floor, but she accepted each with pleasure.

The MacGregor went about filling his trencher, but she knew he missed none of the exchange. Then, with all her kinsmen gone, she stood alone.

Dylan MacGregor’s handsome face and body moved with a predator’s grace. The hair that hung around his shoulders shone like black onyx in the candlelight. His clean-shaven chin a strong compliment. Deep blue eyes, the color of the sea were set with thick black brows. The muscles in his arms twisted and bunched as he used his blade to cut through a piece of meat. His straight white teeth tore into the flesh, causing the meat’s juice to run down his fingers. The smell of roasted chicken made Rhiannon’s stomach gurgle. She hadn’t eaten since the night before.

Leaning over the table, The MacGregor motioned for a man to come to him, then spoke in low tones. The man nodded.

She was having trouble separating The MacGregor from the man in her dream. Dela told her she was to join with her enemy or great evil would befall them all. Being a maid, she had no idea how to go about finding out if he was the one. She had yet to see the mark of the dragon. There must be no doubt before she gave herself to him.

She shook her head. She was more than a little weary, yet she continued to stand and wait. A thirst pulled at her throat. Mayhap this weakness was going to her head. She noticed a large barrel with a drinking scoop near the door and turned toward the water.

“Hold!”

She stopped and turned around to meet the laird’s angry gaze.

“You will not attempt to leave.”

“I was not leaving. I but wanted water to ease my thirst.”

“You will stand by my chair and wait upon my pleasure.”

She wanted to stomp her foot but instead clenched her hand into a fist and grinded her teeth as she went over to stand close to the table. Ignoring her, he resumed eating. Rhiannon waited a few minutes more, and when it seemed he would not give her a drink, she stepped to the table and took a cup full of liquid. She lifted the cup to her lips.

The scrape of a chair was her only warning before a strong hand grabbed her wrist, making her spill some of the liquid down her arm. He took the cup from her hand and put it back on the table.

“What are you doing? I thirst,” Rhiannon snapped. Would he starve her, too?

“You will not take anything but what I give you. You are a prisoner now and subject to my demands. If you thirst, ’tis I you will ask for drink, and if you hunger, you will wait ’til I give you food. Do you ken?”

So, he wished her to beg. Well, he would soon see she would not bow to anyone. She raised her chin.

The Laird’s brow narrowed, and he leaned close. “’Tis by my good grace that you will receive all you need. Do not defy me, lad. For I am law here.” Dylan waved his hand in dismissal of the man beside him. “You may take your leave, Orin. I wish to speak to the lad alone.” The man seated at the table nodded and left.

“Do all jump to your command?” Rhiannon asked. Geoffrey often had to hit a person before his orders were followed.

“Aye.” He answered as he reclaimed his seat. He kicked out a chair beside him. “Do you think your knees will bend enough to allow you to sit?”

Rhiannon moved over to sit in the chair. Every bone ached with tiredness. She yawned and put her hand to her mouth, then realized what she’d done. She closed her mouth and looked at The MacGregor. He watched her, and one corner of his mouth lifted, as did an eyebrow. A small smile curved his lips, and a sparkle lit his eyes.

Without comment, he handed her his mug willing to share his brew. “Drink. A lad seeing his first battle should have good Scottish whiskey. How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“For what? For battle? For women? I think naught. You cannot even grow a beard. Here, eat, you are by far too skinny.”

Rhiannon was too hungry to take offense at his words and found the meat fresh and juicy. She had seen how her cousins treated their prisoners. No mercy was allotted them. Her clan had said Dylan MacGregor was worse, yet this seemed unfounded. “Why are you being kind?”

“Why should I not be? Have you done something to warrant punishment?”

She shrugged.

“Being kind does not make me less of a man. My judgments are swift, but deserving. Do as I ask and you will not find life here so bad.”

Dylan sat back in his seat to watch the lad eat. There was more to this boy than met the eye. At times, he acted almost feminine. He had heard of a person being a man with a woman’s mind, but he didn’t think this was the case. The lad had courage and strength, but his hands were small and slender, his face delicate, and he moved with a gentle grace. The bare skin of those knees below the kilt was smooth and well rounded.

If indeed a female, why would she dress as a man and fight in a battle? He couldn’t understand a woman doing something so absurd and dangerous. Also, there was the strength of character and honor he had never seen in a woman. Mayhap she had followed her lover to the battle. Many women did, but that still didn’t explain the disguise. She could be a thief stealing from the dead. With winter just past, many were without and they took any means to feed their family but it was all speculation

Buy Links:

Amazon // Wild Rose Press //

Award-winning author of Scottish paranormal dragons and wizards and dark vampire bad boy romances, Alyna Lochlan has a love for all things mysterious and magical. It is the heartbeat of all humans to wonder what lies beyond the next turn or what dwells in the darkness. She started writing stories at a young age. She held on to her secret passion and has won various writing awards, one being Romantic Times’ Reviewers Choice Award, Book of the year.

Ms. Lochlan studied commercial art in college, developing several commercials for Channel 6 TV, as well as menus for some top restaurants in Florida. She also is a cover art designer for published books at DCAGraphics.com, but her love of the written word held fast.

Alyna has completed many novels and novellas with many others in the works. Her other published works have appeared in health magazines, newsletters, and other short story publications. She also works as an editor, helping others obtain their dreams.

You can  connect with Alyna here:

Amazon // Website //Twitter // FaceBook //

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating Christmas with two crazy families…

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This Holiday Season I’m channeling my inner Attic Elf and while I’m playing White Christmas on a continuous loop on my CD player, I want to  tell you the inspiration behind my favorite family, The San Valentino’s of Manhattan,

My parents split when I was an infant and both remarried. My parents are of Irish extraction, my stepmother the same. My stepfather, though, was first generation Italian/American. This made for some memorable Christmas get-togethers during my childhood.

Christmas Eve was usually spent with the Italian relatives, starting at around 4 p.m. with the first course of the Feast of the 7 fishes. Every hour on the hour for 7 full hours a different fish course was served by my Sicilian-speaking-only step-grandmother.And with every course, a new bottle of wine would be served, so that by the time my mother, stepfather and I left, most of the relatives were gluttonously full and three sheets to the wind drunk. It made for many an interesting evening, especially when they all started spewing in Italian just so my mother and I couldn’t understand what was being said. (P.S. most of it was about us!!!)

Christmas day was always spent with Irish relatives, starting with Midnight Mass Christmas eve,( and yes, we traveled to them as soon as the last fish course was finished on the Italo side.) and culminating in a day of drinking and eating. And when I say drinking I mean it in the purely alcoholic sense. Unlike with the stepfamily, my mother’s family consumed more booze than food. And they started drinking earlier, too. Like noon early. There would only be two courses for dinner, which was usually served at 5 without any food before that, because my Irish grandmother didn’t want any of us to spoil our dinners and eat too much before the meal was served. I never understood how she didn’t equate the falling asleep drunks at the dinner table with the lack of food to sop up the afternoon booze. By seven p.m. most of them would be passed out in various lounge chairs and couches, the Yule Log blasting Christmas music in the background to drown out the yelling coming from the kitchen where my mother, her mother, and my aunt would be fighting about….anything and everything.

From the time I realized my family was different from all the other families in my school I started asking Santa for a different family every year for Christmas. The number one item on my Santa wish list was : a family that didn’t fight, drink, or yell. I think I actually wrote that for eight years straight. When I never got the family I wished for, I stopped writing it down.

But I never stopped wishing for it.

It wasn’t until I was married and made my own family that my wish turned into my reality.

When I wrote my very first Christmas romance, A KISS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS, I invented the family I wished for as a child. The San Valentinos are loyal and loving and they do fight – but only in the best sense of the word because they fight for each other, not against one another. I got my wished-for family twice: One, I married; the other I created.

A KISS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

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Gia San Valentino is the beloved baby in her large, loud, and loving Italian family. Family dramas, passion, and food rule the San Valentino clan, and Gia takes it all in stride, her family the touchstone of her life. But with Christmas fast approaching she longs for a life and home of her own with a husband and bambini she can love and spoil. The single scene doesn’t interest her and the men her well-meaning family introduce her to are all wise guy wanna-bes, with old world views on women – the pregnant and barefoot kind – just the type of man she’s trying to avoid.

When Gia lends a helping hand at her neighborhood parish’s Christmas Festival she meets a guy who has all her requirements for perfect-man status. Tall, sweet, good looking, and from a big Italian family of his own, it seems she might finally have found a man she can give her heart to. When a miscommunication has her believing he’s the new parish priest, her happily-ever-after hopes evaporate because he’s the proverbial forbidden fruit.

Or is he?

Buy Links: Amazon // Wild Rose Press // Barnes and Noble // KOBO // Google Play

Question for Readers: Do you come from a Big family or a small one? I’ll be picking one reader who comments to receive an e-copy of A Kiss Under The Christmas Lights. Comment in the comments section and let me know!!

When I’m not writing about crazy families you can find me here : Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// Book Me

And please visit these wonderful author blog sites for more Christmas in the Highway Cafe fun!

December 4

Holland Rae – https://hollandrae.com/

Susanne Matthews – https://mhsusannematthews.wordpress.com/

Sorchia DuBois – www.sorchiadubois.com

Mariah Lynne –

December 5

Tena Stetler – http://www.tenastetler.com/category/my-say-what-blog/

Maureen Bonatch – http://www.maureenbonatch.com/blog/

Peggy Jaeger – https://peggyjaeger.com/

Barbara Burke – https://barbaraburkeauthor.wordpress.com/

December 6

Kelly Kalmanson – http://kkweil.blogspot.com

M.S. Spencer – http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com

Hywela Lyn – www.hywelalyn.blogspot.com

Reggi Allder – https://reggiallder.blogspot.com/

December 7

Denyse Bridger – http://www.fantasypages.ca

Clair de Lune – https://clairdelunebooks.co.uk/

Karen Blake-Hall – https://kaydenclaremont.wordpress.com/

Casi McLean – http://casimclean.com/a-christmas-to-remember/

December 8

Darlene Fredette – http://findingthewritewords.blogspot.com

Daryl Devore – http://daryldevore.blogspot.ca

Gini Rifkin – http://ginirifkin.blogspot.com

Linda Carroll-Bradd – http://blog.lindacarroll-bradd.com

 

#BookHugs New Release Book Blast – Fatal Evidence, from Kari Lemor

I am so thrilled that my good friend, romantic suspense writer Kari Lemor, has a new book out tomorrow! It’s the third in her Love on the Line Series from Lyrical Underground, titled FATAL EVIDENCE. Read all about it….

 

What you don’t know can get you killed . . .

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Construction company owner Scott Holland doesn’t go looking for trouble, but he’s just stumbled on plenty. The rundown mill he’s bought is plagued with mysterious incidents, and his investment partner, heiress Heather Silva, is as stubborn as she is intriguing. Dumped by his ex because of his blue-collar job, Scott is wary of Heather’s privileged background. Yet he’s drawn to her independence and strength, especially as the “accidents” grow more terrifying.

Determined to succeed without anyone’s help—especially her wealthy parents—Heather clashes with Scott again and again. But a grisly discovery makes them both targets. Someone wants Heather and Scott silenced for good. And as a killer closes in, the only option is to trust each other—or become the next victims…

Early Praise for Fatal Evidence:

“Fatal Evidence is fun and flirtatious, the characters are nicely developed and the story is engaging. Lemor has brought happily-ever-afters and laughter into the hearts of readers.” ~ RT Book Reviews

“Fatal Evidence has the right amount of everything I love in a book: mystery, suspense, intrigue, sexual chemistry, family drama and great friendships. Throw in an heiress turned real estate agent trying to get out from under her rich family and her entitled role and add a blue-collared construction worker with a chip on his shoulder and it’s perfect. …Enjoyed all the books in this series so far and loved the hint at the next to follow.” ~ Carolyn’s Book Reviews

“Lemor once again incorporates humor, romance and suspense to make this novel another must read!” ~ Goodreads

  Excerpt:

“Hold still,” he scolded and pulled her tighter to his chest. “Now listen up while I give you the run down on the condos up here.”

He walked around the space as if he wasn’t carrying a full-grown woman in his arms. Damn impressive. The pectoral muscles beneath her hand weren’t too shabby either. Continuing on with his description, he seemed to not even realize she was there. At the windows, he set her down and stood behind her looking out, pointing to certain landmarks in the small mill town that you could see from here.

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He had been affected by carrying her. The erection digging into her back was evidence enough. Good to know. Not that she wanted anything to happen. They were business partners now. They had to be professional.

“Ready to go?” His gravelly voice sent goose pimples crawling across her arms, and she rubbed them.

“Cold? You should have worn a warmer coat. You’ve lived in New England all your life. You should know April can be chilly. Plus the heat hasn’t been on in this building for years.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. The cold wasn’t getting to her. It was him and his annoyingly sexy presence. She wouldn’t tell him though.

“I’ll make sure to let you know when the permit comes through. If I don’t have it by next week, I’ll call and check on it.”

“Perfect, but remember I’m in on this too. If you need me to do anything, you only need to ask.”

“I will.” His sexy smile was back as he glanced up and down her body. “Ready for your ride down.”

“You don’t have to carry me. I’m fine walking.”

“And killing yourself by falling down three flights of stairs. Then where does my funding for this project go?”

“You already have access. You don’t need me.”

“Stealing from a dead woman, though. That just seems…wrong.”

The chuckle escaped before she could stop it. He seriously had a warped sense of humor at times. Moving closer, he placed his hand on her hip.

At her indignant look, he said, “You could always ride piggyback if you don’t like me carrying you.”

Scanning her slim skirt, she scoffed. “A piggyback ride? In this?”

“You could hike up the skirt then jump on.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His eyebrows went up and down. “Very much.”

Closing her eyes, she sighed then held out her arms. “Fine, come get me, my prince. Rescue me from the dangerous crumbling castle.”

Scott sidled closer then ran his hands down her hips. One hand continued down her leg until it slipped under. His other hand caressed her back then he scooped her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he trotted back down three flights of stairs. At the bottom he didn’t release her right away. And for some reason she didn’t tell him to.

His eyes roamed over her from head to toe and lingered on those heels. Slowly, he allowed her feet to slide to the floor, her body rubbing against his hardness, sending fluttering sensations through her blood stream. As her shoes touched the ground, he leaned in close, his manly smell assaulting her nostrils. Inhaling the scent, she waited for his next words.

His breath drifted across her cheek. “Next time, you should think about wearing a sensible pair of shoes.”

Buy Links:

Amazon //iTunes // Google+ // Kobo // B&N //

 

Check out my other books in the Love on the Line series:

Wild Card Undercover:

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Running Target:

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Connect with Kari here: 

Website // Facebook // twitter // Pinterest // Tumblr //

A little about Kari….Kari Lemor grew up as one of those kids who read all night under the covers.  Once she had her first glimpse of a romance novel at age 12, it was all over. Romance was in her blood.

It would be many years before the stories that ran rampant in her head finally drove her to put words to paper, though. She wrote self-indulgently for the first few years and only recently began penning stories to share with others.

She still writes stories that are self-indulgent but hopes others might get some enjoyment from them too.   Now that her children are all grown and have moved out, she uses her spare time to create stories of love and happily ever after romances where heroes ride to the rescue of damsels who have already saved themselves.

She lives with her husband in a small town in New England dreaming of warmer weather.  But only if it’s near the ocean.

 

 

#HolidayBookSale Donna Simonetta and A SWEETER SPOT

One of my favorite Wild Rose Press sistahs, Donna Simonetta, is having a book sale just in time for the holiday gift-giving season. A SWEETER SPOT is on sale right now! Below is a little preview to tempt you! And believe me…you want to be tempted. I loved this book so much that I reviewed it!

 

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Blurb:

Magda knows a 28-year-old shouldn’t run away from home, but Rivers Bend is the ideal escape. Helping out her best friend will get her away from her uber-wealthy, controlling grandmother and duplicitous ex. She doesn’t expect the quirky little town to feel so much like home. Add in hotter-than-the-sun Jeff and his daughter, and leaving seems as unthinkable as it is inevitable.

Raising Sam alone, Jeff knew he wanted her to grow up in his supportive hometown. The arrival of a feisty new tenant sends Jeff’s world spinning. Magda fills a void in his life that he’d like to make permanent.

Will love triumph over the most powerful woman in the country, and can they figure out how to make this happy-for-now in Rivers Bend into their happy-ever-after?

 

Excerpt: 

An errant curl had escaped her grandmother- approved French Twist, and she tucked it behind her ear. She smiled and said, “I am. I’m Magda Horvath. Bethanne and her family are the only ones who call me Maggie. That’s how I know you are who you say you are. Even without the photo I.D.” She picked up the wallet and tossed it to him. He caught it one-handed and tucked it into the rear pocket of his shorts.

“Sorry. Do you prefer being called Magda?”

She rolled her eyes. “As long as you don’t call me Elizabeth, or any of its corresponding nicknames, I don’t really care.”

“Okay,” he drew out the word. “I don’t know why I would ever call you Elizabeth, but since it means that much to you, I’ll be sure I don’t. How about I go with Maggie? You look like a Maggie to me.”

He squatted and held out his hand to the dog. “Who’s this little cutie?”

Maggie readied herself to intervene in case Petunia snapped, as she sometimes did with strange men. “Oh! Don’t do that. She doesn’t like…” She abruptly stopped talking as Petunia walked to Jeff, sniffed his hand, and wagged.

Jeff seemed to realize the wagging was an invitation to pet her, and he scratched Petunia behind her ears. The little dog wagged so hard that Maggie was afraid her back end was going to break off, and her one eye was closed in bliss. As Magda watched her dog bask in Jeff’s attention, she had no doubt he could use those big hands to bring any woman to a state of bliss.

When he smiled up at her, his eyes crinkled, and Maggie could swear her heart stopped for a moment. He wasn’t handsome in the way Pierce was—all delicate bone structure and whippet thin. Combined with his baby-fine blond hair, Pierce was almost pretty. Jeff was all man. Tall and muscular with his messy brown hair that looked in serious need of a cut. He wore a sloppy T-shirt and olive colored cargo shorts, but the baggy clothes did nothing to hide the hard body underneath. His nose was just a little too big and a tad crooked, as though it had been broken. His tan skin stretched across strong cheekbones, but it wasn’t the kind of orange tan you got in a booth. It was the tan of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors. But it was those gray eyes, with the little laugh lines around them that really drew her to him. They were full of intelligence and kindness—now that he knew she wasn’t a trespasser.

“She doesn’t like what?”

Magda shook her head in amazement, “Men. She’d been abused before I got her, and she doesn’t usually like men.”

He grinned as the dog rolled on her back to reveal her belly for rubbing. He obliged, and winked at Magda. “Maybe she’s just been around the wrong men.”

Her and me both. Magda felt her knees go weak at his playful expression. Cold fish, indeed! Watching this man pet her dog had her hot enough to melt the zipper on her skirt.

Buy Links:

Amazon // Wild Rose Press // B&N // Amazon UK // KOBO //

Bio:

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Donna Simonetta writes the kind of books she loves to read––contemporary romances filled with heart, heat, and humor, like the books of her favorite romance writers, Susan Mallery and Jill Shalvis.

A Sweeter Spot is the first book in the Rivers Bend trilogy, which is set in a fictional small town, populated by quirky characters. But if you prefer a big city setting and a little fantasy mixed in with your romance, try Angels Fly. A heartwarming story, set in beautiful San Diego, about getting a second-chance with your first love, with a little help from some unlikely guardian angels.

Writing is Donna’s third career. She has worked in the business world, which she decided it wasn’t for her. So she went back to school to get her MLS degree, and worked in a school library, before deciding to pursue writing on a full-time basis. Donna lives in Maryland with her husband, who is her real-life romance hero. They enjoy traveling to visit far-flung family and friends, and spending time on the beach with an umbrella drink and a good book.

 

You can connect with Donna here:

Facebook //Twitter // Goodreads // Amazon // BookBub

 

 

 

 

 

 

#BookSale #99cents just in time for the Holidays!!

Long before Christmas, Long & Short Reviews gave A KISS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS #5stars – read why! http://ow.ly/zNcQ30gYApl The book is on Sale right now for just #99cents Give yourself a little holiday gift or the gift it to the romance reader in your life & order it today! Here’s the link: http://ow.ly/15A630gYArl

Blurb:[image error]

Gia San Valentino is the beloved baby in her large, loud, and loving Italian family. Family dramas, passion, and food rule the San Valentino clan, and Gia takes it all in stride, her family the touchstone of her life. But with Christmas fast approaching she longs for a life and home of her own with a husband and bambini she can love and spoil. The single scene doesn’t interest her and the men her well-meaning family introduce her to are all wise guy wanna-bes, with old world views on women – the pregnant and barefoot kind – just the type of man she’s trying to avoid.

When Gia lends a helping hand at her neighborhood parish’s Christmas Festival she meets a guy who has all her requirements for perfect-man status. Tall, sweet, good looking, and from a big Italian family of his own, it seems she might finally have found a man she can give her heart to. When a miscommunication has her believing he’s the new parish priest, her happily-ever-after hopes evaporate because he’s the proverbial forbidden fruit.

Or is he?

Buy Links:Amazon // Wild Rose Press  // Nook ( B&N) //

Excerpt:

He came toward me and I could see every ripple of muscle, every action and reaction of his gait, every blink of his eyes, as it happened. Detailed, distinct, delicious.

The bright sun shone low due to the hour, but it haloed around his form, bathing him in light.

He looked like an angel.

A dressed-all-in-black angel, but an angel, nonetheless.

“Need some help?” he asked when he was within a foot of me.

I still hadn’t moved, my fingers cemented around the ladder rungs. I couldn’t feel them anymore. Merda, I couldn’t feel anything I was so numb from just looking at him.

But I could hear. My blood, as it river-rafted crazily through my temples; my heart drumming like a heavy metal band in my chest.

And his voice. Mio Dio, his voice.

When I was six I had a terrible chest cold. Wheezing, choking on phlegm, unable to cough anything up. The doctor told mama to keep me warm and hydrated and the cold would ride itself out in time. Nonna Constanza, ancient even when I was a kid, scoffed and prescribed her own old world remedy. She sat me in her lap, cooing to me with her singsong voice and held a tiny shot glass up to my lips coaxing, “Tu bevi, Gia bambina. Tu Bevi.”

Drink, Gia baby. Drink.

She tilted the glass back into my mouth and I did. I drank every drop.

I don’t remember much after. Daddy told me later I slipped into a mini-coma for about sixty-two hours, bombed out of my head from the anisette nonna had dosed me with.

But this is what I do remember. The amber colored liquor slipped down the inside of my mouth to the back of my throat and onward into my belly, tasting of melted marshmallows and warming each place it touched like a million little hits of heat popping everywhere inside me. When it reached my tummy it settled and dug in, filling my senses with the sweet flavor of mama’s Sunday morning caramel rolls and sugar.

That’s what his voice sounded like: warm and sweet, thick, delicious, and soothing.

My entire body relaxed when I heard it. My paralysis flew and my frozen-in-place digits melted.

He’d held my stare the entire time, never wavering, never becoming distracted by something else. He looked straight at me; just me. Like a missile dead-eye-aimed for a target.

“Here,” he said, moving in closer, so close I could make out the actual color of his eyes now. I’d thought they were dark and from far away and they were. But seeing them now, face-to-face, I spotted little flecks of yellow and slivery shards of gold mixed into the center and surrounded by a ring of deep, rich, mink.

If his voice was warm and soothing, his eyes were hot enough to singe, and mama mia, I wanted to be burned.

 

 

5 things on my #BucketList

via 5 things on my #BucketList