Peggy Jaeger's Blog, page 7

Two years…

How?

How is it two years since you left us? Left me? Left me motherless? Emotionally adrift? Bereft? I don’t know how I’ve managed to survive without you as a touchstone. You, the person who knew me better than I knew myself. The person who knew me before I was born.

The person who loved me unconditionally.

I have dreams of that day. Nightmares, really. The calls from the doctor informing me that your status was at first, guarded. Then declining. And at last…grave. There’s a description for you. As a noun, it’s a burial place. As an adjective, a description of serious concern or imminent death. Funny how our language can take a word and give it two meanings, and yet, tie those meanings together.

From hospitalization to death…hours. Mere hours.

Those days right after, when I had to deal with your funeral arrangments, Jack’s second fall and subsequent transfer to a trauma hospital 125 miles away with a second major surgery in two weeks; selling your house; dealing with the bills; the forms. The endless forms. Those days are a blur. I think my body shut off the emotional part of my brain so I could get through those days without falling apart. It, my mind, knew I would fall apart eventually, but it saved me from doing it when the grief was so profound and so new. So fresh.

So devastating.

How is it two years?

Two birthdays that were never celebrated. Two Christmas’s without you. The birth of your second great grandchild; seeing your daughter attain publishing success.

How? How is it two years?

Some days it feels like a thousand years; some, just yesterday.

I miss you every day. Every second of every day.

I miss you.

People said the pain would ebb with time; the sadness would lessen; the memories would dissolve.

They lied.

The pain is as sharp now as it was that day I lost you; the sadness? Just as vast. The memories? As vivid as ever.

I miss you.

I…miss…you.

Everyone is Irish today…

…some of us just a wee bit more, LOL.

And because I love a good throwback pic, here’s one of my and my best buds as we walked in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade in the rain in March 1982. And yes, those are our nursing student uniforms! Try and find me..

#Thursdaythoughts on age and romance books…

I don’t make any secret about my age. I was born in 1960. That will make me 65 years old this year when my birthday rolls around. Retirement age ( although I did that at 55!), Medicare eligible ( if it’s even still around this May!), Social Security age ( not betting on that one sticking around for me to get.)

At my age, I have a lot of life experience, a little wisdom, a lot less life-angst, and some not-so-popular opinions about things – opinions that were forged in my Gen X/Babyboomer-cusp growing years.

My references, idioms, and colloquialisms about things are mostly from the 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s. A few 2000s are thrown in there, but not many, and those are mostly references about movies, celebrity, and TV shows.

I tell you all this so you realize something. When I write a romance book, I am drawing on all my life experiences to pen the story. I have 64 years of life that go into each main character, story plotline, and character arc.

Since I am not 20, I don’t write about 20-year-olds. I couldn’t. I don’t have their experience or references. 20-year-olds are very different these days than they were in the 1980s when I was in my 20s. Very different. If I went back in time and wrote a love story about 2 people in 1985, I would be okay because that time period is familiar to me, as is how people in their 20s were thinking and acting back then.

I write some 30-year-olds, but they are usually on the south side of 35 and approaching their 40s.

I am comfortable writing love interests that range from 35+ up and until my present age because their experiences, life references, social media testimonials, and lifestyles are more in sync with my own.

Now, I know someone who reads this will think, isn’t she writing fiction? Can’t she imagine what it would be like to be a different age? The answer is yes, of course. But me writing a YA book or a 20s-something coming-of-age book for this time period we are currently in wouldn’t be authentic to the character. It would be like me writing a Viking love story set in 1425. I know nothing about the time period, Vikings, or anything else pertaining to the topic. I don’t write historical romance for the same reasons, plus, people who do read Viking romance, or historical, or omniverse are rabid fans and catch mistakes or missteps in the storyline without blinking an eye. I don’t want people reading my work and having it not be authentic, accurate, and open for ridicule.

I have enough stress in my life. I don’t need that stressor added to it.

So, when you pick up a book penned by me, you know what you are getting. Well-rounded characters with backstories you can understand and empathize with; usually smalltown, but some city stories as well ( my NYC Socialites series is about female billionaires), some romcom, some medical romance, second chances, and life stories about death, divorce, and mental health issues. All wrapped up in a love story you can relate to or escape to for a few hours.

So…if all that sounds good to you, check out my books. They are on Amazon, B&N, Kobo, Apple, plus you can get them from me, personally, through my website store, where the books are cheaper than the online places.

Happy reading, kids. ~ Peg

A #tuesdaytease with the clock running out…

Today is the last day you can enter my Goodreads Giveaway for a chance at an ecopy of Perfect Match, which will be released on 4.7.25. I’m giving away 100 Kindle copies to 100 lucky winners – the Goodreads Gods choose the winners. I have found that doing a giveaway like this for past books has garnered me a vast amount of new-to-me-writers, so the cost has been worth it.

Today’s tease for the book is the first time Olivia and Hunter kiss. It’s an awkward kiss, neither of them thinking it was going to be on the lips – much less as mindblowing as it was for both of them…

“I need to go back,” he said, returning.

“Problem?”

“My Arms patient has taken a turn and the staff is worried.” He tucked his phone back into the holder on his belt, and slipped the pager into his pocket.

“Well, I’m glad you at least had something to eat.” She followed behind him to the front door as he slid his suit jacket back on. “Especially if you’re going to be at the hospital for a while.”

As he shot the cuffs he peered down at her, his brows kissing as his mouth quirked. Once done, he buttoned the jacket and exhaled. “Olivia.”

Nervously, her lips twitched. “Hunter,” she said in the same serious tone he’d just used. “One of these days we’re going to have a discussion about why you don’t call me Liv like everyone else does. Olivia is so formal and stuffy.”

“It’s not formal or stuffy at all. It’s beautiful, just like you are and it suits you.”

Her nose squinched and wriggled. “Makes me sound like a maiden aunt with fifteen cats.”

He shook his head and then bent down to kiss her cheek. For some reason, though – and she was seriously going to have to think about why once he was gone – Liv turned into the kiss and his mouth landed on hers.

Shock paralyzed her. She knew she should back away or at least turn her head again, but simply…couldn’t.

Truth? Didn’t want to.

His mouth, Lord, his mouth!

How was it possible for such a masculine man, a man with a body that hinted at strength and solidity, to have the softest lips she’d ever felt?

Soft and silky and…succulent. Like ripe peaches, juicy and just begging to be…eaten?

It was as if she hadn’t just had dinner – hadn’t had anything to eat in days. Like a woman starved of sustenance, Liv simply devoured him.

Before she could understand what was happening, her hands lifted to his cheeks, cupping them, the subtle scratch of his evening scruff prickling against her fingers and driving her…insane.

Insane with a need she couldn’t have guessed she’d possessed.

Her own shock was nothing compared to the swift hiss she heard him expel right before he shifted, drawing her closer as he wound his arms around her waist. With her next breath, she was plastered against him, every long line of his body pressed against her. Had he pulled her to him, or had she simply cleaved?

She wasn’t sure, but the descriptions she’d had of him being strong and solid were proven truthful. She could add one more word to the list as her body molded to his, liquifying into every ridge and muscle and valley of his form: hard.

All over.

His tongue swiped at her mouth, insistently; firmly; commanding she open for him.

It was never a thought or consideration not to.

Liv’s lips parted and she inhaled him as if his very breath gave her life.

 As he deepened the kiss, Liv’s head dropped back giving him full access. To her mouth…her body…her very soul.

Her career, her business, her reputation be damned. All that mattered was right here, right now, with this man.

She slid her fingers through the opening of his jacket to glide up and down his back, every curve of muscle she skimmed over harder than the one before it.

The man was a mountain of defined sinew under his clothing, begging the image of what he must look like without it to surface in her mind. A tiny gasp escaped her when his hands slid down to the dip in her spine, his fingers spreading the expanse of the space, flirting with the top of her ass.

Her blood zipped through her veins, heating her in places she hadn’t felt warmth in quite some time.

Too long.

The shriek of his pager abruptly screeched around them, shocking them apart. Liv had no idea what she looked like, but Hunter’s face told a story she thought might mimic hers. Confusion creased his brow while desire still danced in his eyes. His mouth was a swollen mass of perfection, his lips wet and plump, his face flushed from chin to temple in a rosy glow of lust.

Without a word, their gazes locked, he reached down to his belt and pulled the annoying device from its holder.

A quick eye flick at it then he said, “I have to…go…” his voice jagged and, to her ears, thick with emotion.

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around her chest and moved around him to open the door.

“Olivia—”

“You’d better go, Hunter,” she said, shocking herself at the calmness in her voice, when her insides were swirling like wind galloping down Tornado Alley. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

He winced, his eyes almost closing.

Don’t forget to enter the contest. And if you’re not on GoodReads, or just want to get the book on your own, the pre-order is available now on Amazon at the link above. It’ll go into KU for 90 days, then go wide.

Good luck and happy reading, kids ~ Peg

I rise…

I’ve thought about this quote often in my life…

When I was bullied in grade school because my last name was different from my mother’s. The 60s were a difficult time for the children of divorce because it was such a new phenomenon and people fear what isn’t familiar.

But even as a child, I rose above the bullying.

When I missed prom, senior day, and all the fun festivities of high school life because no one asked me to attend.

When I was told I was fat and ugly and everyone hated me because I thought I was smart and teacher’s pet. ( P.S. I was smart.)

When I was called difficult and overstepping by a doctor because I challenged him on a patient’s status. (P.S. I was right, in the end, and the doctor never wanted to work with me again.)

And I rose to a position of authority within the nursing department, forcing the doctor to work with me or move his patients. He didn’t move his patients.

When I was told the hospital/clinic wouldn’t give me the raise I deserved because I wasn’t worth the money. (P.S. I got the raise after I threatened to walk off the job and they had no one to replace me. Plus I proved to them, through income stats, that I made them money.)

When I was rejected over 500 times by agents/publishers/editors who told me my work wasn’t good enough for them, or that it didn’t fit the kind of books they wanted or needed. That my words wouldn’t sell and just weren’t…marketable.

And still, I rose by winning contest after contest and garnering a reader following.

From every soul-killing, tormented, and tortured event in my life, where I was kicked down, mortified and made to feel less than, I rose.

Why?

Why was I able to do this, to feel this powerful sense of self when I should have cowered in a corner and faded away into an emotional dustbunny?

When I should have been defeated, dejected, and despondent?

When I should have given up, given in, and let gloom invade my soul?

The answer lies in my DNA.

I’m a woman.

When we fall, we get up.

When we are punched down, we lift and strike back.

When we are made to feel less than, we prove we are more than enough.

Because we rise; we always rise.

Like air, we rise.

And always will…

89

Strange title for a post, but read on, and you’ll see why.

My mother was born in 1936. Yup. She would have been 89 years old today if she had lived.

This is her high school graduation picture. She never graduated, though. She had to leave high school with just six months left to graduate to take care of her ailing mother and younger sister.

At 17, she had to go to work full-time. Back in the 1950’s there weren’t many jobs an uneducated woman could get that would actually help support a family. She wound up in a bank as a junior teller.

For the rest of her life, that missed high school diploma followed her from menial job to menial job. Did we live in poverty? By today’s definition, yeah. In the 1960’s and 70’s, we were considered lower middle class. A two-income household that barely paid its bills each month and had a lot of debt. We didn’t have extras, sometimes had just a sandwich for dinner.

But my mother persevered. She tried to get her GED twice, but the work didn’t compute in her brain and she couldn’t pass the test.

She died suddenly two years ago. She’d just turned 87 a week before her death.

Today, I honor her life, so hard lived. She never lost her capacity to love, though. She had her issues, mental and physical. But she was my mother, and even though our relationship was tortured at times, I loved, and love her, with everything in me.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mommie. If I can’t have you here with me, I’m glad you’re one of my guardian angels in Heaven now.

#Saturdayshare and a reminder…

Last week I told you about my current GOODREADS GIVEAWAY for PERFECT MATCH book 3 in my Heaven’s Matchmaker series, so today I just wanted to send out a reminder in case you haven’t entered yet.

The contest ends on March 11, and it’s for 1 of 100 copies of the book, which will be distributed on release day, APRIL 7, 2025.

In case you’ve forgotten ( or been living under a rock, because I’ve talked about this book to the extent even I’m getting sick of hearing about it! LOLOLOL) here’s the blurb:

PERFECT MATCH (OLIVIA AND HUNTER, HEAVEN’S MATCHMAKER, BOOK 3)

Third-generation matchmaker, Olivia Joyner, enjoys a 99% success rate when it comes to helping people find their happily ever afters. But her newest client is proving to be part of the 0.1 percent.

All the women Olivia have matched geriatrician Hunter Reinhart with have been perfect on paper. None of them, though, have resulted in a second request for a date, and all the women say the same thing: Hunter, although handsome and successful is just…dull. And boring. And too reserved.

Olivia can’t understand it, because to her? Hunter is none of those things. In fact, he’s the exact opposite of dull, boring, and reserved. He’s a man she would consider worthy of marrying herself – if she was in the market for a spouse.

Which she isn’t.

Olivia needs to figure out why she can’t find Hunter Reinhart the perfect match, and it just may require her to do something she’s never done before: go on a “date” with a client.

Purely for research and educational purposes, that is.

Here’s the entry link again: GOODREADS GIVEAWAY

And if you don’t want to enter, you can just preorder the book, here, at AMAZON or on my Website, here: order form

The benefit of getting it from me is that it’s cheaper than the ‘Zon plus I can autograph it!

#ThrowbackThursday

It’s always fun for me to go back and re-read posts I did several years ago when I was just starting out as a full-time writer. This post is from August of 2018, which was only 6 years ago but seems like it took place in an alternative universe eons ago. Pre-pandemic, pre-my mother’s death, pre-Insurrection, pre-everything we are going through right now.

Title of the piece was A DIFFERENT TRACK?

It’s been a little over a week since I got home from the RWA 2018 conference. Last week I basically played catch-up with my life.  Laundry needed to get done, groceries needed to be shopped for, I had to pay a passel of bills, clean my house, visit and check on my mother, the car was scheduled for an oil change and tune-up, I had a repeat mammogram, a weeks’ worth of blogs to write, PLUS I had a deadline for edits due yesterday on a second holiday release, and my final audio chapters had to be listened to and corrected before the book goes to Audible.

Oh, and let’s not forget I needed to reconnect with my husband and daughter.

Can you spell S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D?

So, because I’m only one woman and even I – Miss Chronic Insomnia – sleep 2 hours a night, I am doing something I’ve never done before with regard to my writing.

Get ready for it, because it’s a doozy!

I, Mrs Writing is my Oxygen, am taking a bit of a writing break.

I know. Shocked the s**t out of me, too!

I’ve never actually had a vacation from writing before, even when I worked full-time. I always wrote in the evenings, on weekends, and when we traveled.

But I’m going to give myself 2 weeks off starting in a few days. I need to rest my brain and re-examine my career. This has been a busy year, writing and publishing-wise for me. I had one book come out in April ( CAN’T STAND THE HEAT), and I have at least 2 books ( DEARLY BELOVED and CHRISTMAS & CANOLLIS)  and an e-book (HOPE’S DREAM) coming out before the end of the year, plus 2 Audible books.

That’s a lot.

Really. A lot.

So….let’s see if I survive this little vaca from writing every day. I just might not be able to….breathe, and by breathe, I mean make it out on the other end alive!

Hahah. Dramatic, thy name is Peg Jaeger.

Any hoo. I’ll report back after my self imposed exile ends. Until then, I’ll be scheduling some stuff  on Hootsuite I’m writing a head of time, so you’ll still hear from me regularly.

Re-release day and I…forgot!

How do these days just keep rolling by so fast? Today is the re-release day for SKATER’S WALTZ Book 3 in the MacQuire Women series and I totally spaced it. Didn’t do any marketing, preorder alerts, release countdown!

Yikes!

Tempus Fugit to the max!

This book was originally published as the first installment in the original MACQUIRE WOMEN series from The Wild Rose Press. I wrote Tiffany’s story first, and then the publisher wanted to make it a series, so I went backward and wrote Carly’s story, then Serena’s and her children’s.

When I attained the copyrights back, I decided to republish them in the correct order so you could experience the lives and loves of the MacQuire women as they unfolded.

THE VOICES of ANGLES is book 1 now. This is Carly and Mike’s story.

PASSION’S PALETTE, book 2, explores Serena and Shamus Cleary’s love affair.

SKATER’S WALTZ, book 3. Tiffany and Cole are front and center.

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME, book 4. Moira Cleary ( Serena’s daughter) and Quentin Stapleton

and FIRST IMPRESSIONS completes the series with book 5 centering on Padric Cleary (Serena’s son) and Dr. Clarissa Rogers.

I hope you enjoy reading all the books in the series as much as I did writing them. Some of the original text has been changed, updated, and modernized. Hopefully, these changes – although they don’t change the storylines – will make the books easier to read.

Happy reading, and don’t forget to believe in Happily Ever Afters. They really do exist.

SKATER’S WALTZ

Olympic award-winning figure skater Tiffany Lennox is busy with rehearsals for an upcoming ice show when the only man she’s ever loved comes home after a two-year overseas stint. She needs him to see her for the woman she’s become and not the child he knew to ensure he stays home, this time, for good.

With her.

For all his wanderlust and hunger for professional success, Cole Greer comes home wanting nothing more than to rest, relax, and recover. He is delighted to be Tiffany’s hero and has a special place in his heart reserved for her. But faced with the oh-so-desirable woman she’s become he starts questioning his determination to keep their relationship platonic.

A series of “accidents” plagues Tiffany and threatens her show and Cole realizes he will do anything to keep the woman he loves safe. When forced by the television network to go back on assignment, Cole – for the first time in his life – is torn between his career and his heart.

Let’s talk about a Goodreads giveaway…

I’ve done so many Goodreads giveaways now, I’m an expert at setting them up.

Really.

For my 4.7.25 release of PERFECT MATCH ( Heaven’s Matchmaker book 3) I wanted to try and garner some new readers. Whenever I want to do that, a Goodreads giveaway seems like the perfect way to do it.

So………

You can probably write what’s coming next, kids.

For my 4.7.25 release of PERFECT MATCH, starting today, February 27.25 and going until March 11, 2025, I’m having a GOODREADS GIVEAWAY.

Enter here for a chance to win 1 of the 100 free Kindle copies I’m giving away for book 3.( You don’t have to read books 1 and 2 to know what’s going on because they are all standalone novels.) GIVEAWAY

Don’t forget to add the book to your WANT TO READ LIST and check the box, here:

Hurry! Enter today.

And GOOD LUCK!

(PS> even if you don’t win, I hope you’ll still consider preordering it and reading it when it’s released on 4.7.25~0

Peg.