Julie Elizabeth Powell's Blog, page 33
July 15, 2017
THE JADE EMPEROR by Suzanne Jenkins
THE JADE EMPEROR
by Suzanne Jenkins
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Fiction
A marriage of nearly half a century faces its greatest challenge when a stranger arrives, bearing life changing news. Although Steve and Kelly Boyd live together, they barely tolerate each other. Marrying in their teens and quickly becoming parents, the separation due to the war in Vietnam forms the foundation for the next forty-five precarious years.
Filling the empty marriage with the companionship of her twin sister, Karen, and the family she made with Steve, Kelly’s life revolves around her six adult children.
The stranger’s sudden appearance clarifies so much about Steve’s lifetime behavior to Kelly.
Heartfelt conversations at the local coffee shop where son Reggie works as a barista, help the family resolve differences, build new relationships, and grow in acceptance of one another.
At the end, love outweighs everything.
Before night fall, Kelly Boyd’s life revolved around her marriage and children. After sundown that same day, many of the things she’d based her life on would no longer exist.
In Michigan, autumn meant apple cider and donuts; pumpkins piled high at every market, the pungent smells of campfires in backyard fire pits, and hay bales stacked decoratively on suburban porches instead of in horse and sheep troughs. Loving fall the best out of all the seasons, Kelly hoped to spend part of the upcoming weekend visiting a local cider mill with her children and grandchildren, initiating the onset of autumn. No one questioned what the weekends would bring; Kelly had something planned for each one far in advance. Looking forward to it all week, the excitement and anticipation made the stress of her job recede. Kelly didn’t need vacations; cruises and trips to exotic places held no interest for her because her family provided all she needed in life.
Simmering away in the back of her subconscious was a seed of non-specific unease that grew and festered if she gave it too much of her attention. A common occurrence for her, she thought it was simply women’s intuition instigating worry with no foundation. Sticking rigorously to her schedule no matter what; her husband, Steve once joked that he could be having a heart attack on the floor, and Kelly would finish whatever task she was doing before she’d stop to call 911.
“That’s not even funny,” she replied the first time he said it, frowning, but he wouldn’t relent.
The routine had become essential for her wellbeing. After a week of grueling hospital work as a nurse, Kelly spent each Friday night cleaning house so the weekend would be free. Dinner long over, she’d talk on the phone to her sister with reruns of Hoarders on the television as background noise while she cleaned. Steve, her husband of over forty years, sequestered in his basement man-cave watching sporting events on a ninety-inch flat screen, was oblivious to whatever Kelly was up to until he heard the vacuum running.
On this particular Friday, the weather was warm; the last days of Indian summer in progress, and in honor of it she’d left the front door open, locking the storm door. While mopping the wood floors that covered the dining room and front hallway, she heard a car pull up in front of the house.
“Hold on for a minute,” she told her sister, holding on to the phone.
Going to the door, she looked out at a Yellow Cab that had stopped directly in front of their house. A tall, thin, man got out of the back, and leaned through the window to chat with the driver. Kelly saw him reach into his pocket to retrieve paper money, watching as he counted out bills, handing them through the window. The driver drove off, and it wasn’t until then that Kelly realized the man was headed to her house.
“Beaver, come,” she called to the dog in a low voice.
Their shepherd - boxer mix obediently came to her side and gave a low growl as he watched the man walk up the steps. Wishing the TV wasn’t on so loud; if she needed to yell for Steve, he’d never hear her. Standing with the mop handle in her hand, the young man came up the steps, smiling. Attractive, clean cut, and possibly Asian, she thought if he’s going to attack me, he’d bust through the door right away, but the dog would get him.
“Hi, I’m sorry to show up at this hour. Is Augustus Boyd here?” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass.
It was uncommon for someone to come to their house late, and never for her husband. Kelly hesitated, wondering if she should at least ask his name, or why he wanted to speak to Steve, but decided against it; she’d let Steve handle it.
“I’ll get him. Wait here just a moment.”
The young man nodded his head, and Kelly, on a whim, shut the big door and locked it, putting her mop handle against the wall, moving quickly to the basement landing. She opened the door and ran down the steps. Steve looked up when she entered his den.
“What’s up?”
“There’s a man at the door asking for Augustus.”
“Did he give a name?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was standing there like an ass with the door wide open cleaning when the cab let him out, and all I thought of was how quickly I could get the door shut without offending him.”
Steve got out of his recliner and followed her up the stairs.
“Who’d come here in a cab?” he said, his lips set in a line.
“I have no idea.” Kelly stepped aside so Steve could get to the door.
Opening it, the young man looked at Steve, smiling. They watched each other, looking into each other’s eyes.
“Can I help you?” Steve asked, his heart pounding, the unfamiliar intrusion upsetting.
Not a deep thinker, something told Steve this man would alter the course of his life.
“Can I talk to you in private?” the young man asked, looking around Steve’s shoulder at Kelly.
Steve looked at her, too and shrugged his shoulders. He unlocked the storm door.
“Sure,” he said, stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind him.
Kelly wondered what could be so important, or so private that the man couldn’t talk about it in front of her. Picking up the phone, she spoke, but her sister had hung up. Calling her back, for the next ten minutes, they speculated about who it might be.
“I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on,” she said before hanging up.
Walking to their bedroom, she grabbed the linen hamper, circling through the rooms on that floor to grab what needed washing, taking it to the basement. Nothing, not even a mysterious stranger could disrupt her routine. Moving clothes from the washer to the dryer, she then fed more dirty clothes into the washer. If she timed it right, she‘d have all their laundry done by midnight.
Life had become regimented for Kelly and therefore tolerable; grocery store after work at the beginning of the week, housework on Friday, visiting on Saturday, outings on Sunday. Monday she’d start all over again, cooking for the week, visiting her children when she could in the afternoon, often lingering over their kitchen tables long after she should’ve been home. Getting things done, being organized; that was what mattered to her. Having every area of her life under control was what brought her anxiety-ridden thoughts into submission.
Their six children lived locally. Augie, Jr., twins Ben and Lisa, Ken, Reggie, and Alice. Two were married with children of their own; they lived in houses and apartments spread around town. Proud of her children, she and Steve had worked hard to educate them, and they were all employed in some form.
Running up the stairs with a basket full of folded laundry, she yelped when she opened the door, Steve standing in the kitchen surprising her.
“You scared me. Who was it?” she asked, taking the laundry back to their bedroom.
Not answering, he followed her.
“I’m going to drive him to his hotel so he doesn’t have to wait for a cab,” he said, picking up his wallet and money clip off the dresser.
“Who is he?” she asked again, making his and hers piles on their bed.
He didn’t answer again, and Kelly turned to look at him.
“Steve, who is it?”
“The son of a friend,” he said. “I’ll be gone about an hour. Do you want anything while I’m out?”
It was so odd, him leaving like that on a Friday night; she was concerned only from the standpoint that he’d be safe and nothing else. She didn’t distrust him, certainly. There was no reason not to trust him.
“No, I can’t think of anything. Are you okay?”
Taking a moment to really look at him, he was as white as a sheet. “What’s going on?”
He went to her, took her by the shoulders, kissing her forehead, so out of character; she knew something was terribly wrong. Steve hadn’t kissed her in months.
“I’ll get the full story from him on our way into town. I’ll have my cell phone if you decide you need anything.”
She thought, what would I need?
“Hurry back,” she said, concerned.
Trying to think what friend had a son who’d show up on a doorstep at ten at night, no one came to mind. Steve was a pipefitter, and the shop where he worked had almost a zero turnover. When he retired in one more year, it would be the first opening they’d have in almost fifteen years. She knew everyone he worked with, and his friend-pool, although she could hardly say they were friends, was made up of other pipe-fitters. They’d all worked together since they were kids. Could it be a son of someone from work? She picked up the phone, wanting to speculate with her sister. It was almost eleven, but she knew Karen would still be up, running the vacuum.
“What did the man look like?” Karen asked.
“He might have been Hispanic or Asian,” Kelly said. “Foreign. Tall. Black hair, high cheek bones, almond eyes. I couldn’t really tell because the light is dim on the porch and it was late. Anyway, like no one I know. Maybe late thirties.”
“Well, you’d better text me the minute he comes back because now I won’t sleep. I’m getting ready to take my shot so you know I’ll be up for a while.”
Kelly laughed heartily. Karen had a shot of vodka nightly, and Kelly’s concern for her sister’s liver was a running dialogue.
“Your husband will drink a six pack tonight. How good can that be for his liver?” Karen said. “Pour another glass of wine. You deserve it.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said, going to the fridge. “I’m going to do it right now.” She took the bottle out and poured a healthy glass of wine. “Okay, I’m all set. Thank you for listening.”
“Don’t forget to text me,” Karen said.
“I won’t. It might be late. He said an hour but who knows,” Kelly said.
She’d polish the furniture while drinking the wine.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said.
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Suzanne Jenkins Bio Suzanne writes page-turning contemporary romance, mystery, and women's fiction with passionately gripping characters that stay with readers long after they turn the last page. The Detroit Detective Stories, beginning with The Greeks of Beaubien Street are a reflection of American fantasy with historical reality. Pam of Babylon books consistently rank in the Top 100 Best Sellers in American Drama with over 500,000 downloads. A retired operating room nurse, Jenkins lives in Southern California.
ESCAPE FROM BEHRUZ by Judy Meadows
ESCAPE FROM BEHRUZ
by Judy Meadows
Genre: Spicy Contemporary Romance
A trek through the mountains to Iran--with her baby, her puppy, her secrets, and the man she must never love.
Two years ago, abandoned, despondent, and pregnant, Olivia was pressured into letting her sister and her sister’s husband, the sultan of Behruz, adopt her baby and pretend he’s their natural child. Her sister died soon after the baby was born, so Olivia has been able to raise her son after all. The sultan lets her stay in the palace, but if she ever reveals the baby’s true parentage, he’ll make sure she never sees the child again.
Now rebellion threatens the country. And the baby’s real father, Rashid, has returned. He arranges for Olivia and the baby he doesn’t know is his to escape with him to Iran, traveling under cover of the nomad migration.
Can Olivia spend nights in a tent with Rashid without succumbing to the attraction that has always drawn her to him? Can she survive the trip without revealing her secret and without losing her heart to him once again?
When the meal was over, the women helped her put on her nomad costume. They wanted to do everything. Their hands were all over her, pulling at her sweater and trying to open the snap and zipper of her jeans. They giggled and exclaimed when they saw her small, pale breasts, but the biggest source of delight turned out to be her lacy briefs. She was relieved when they covered her with the new clothes.
“This reminds me of a wedding,” Fatima said when they all stepped out of the tent. “When a Qashami girl gets married, the women all help her dress in her wedding clothes and then they escort her to her husband’s tent.”
Walking toward the tent of her “husband,” Olivia felt like a bride. The mantle framed her face and fell down her back like a bride’s veil, and the long skirt swayed with every step. Rashid stood in front of the tent talking to Saddiq. He was wearing a long shirt and a wool vest like those worn by the other men. Time stopped for several heartbeats when his eyes fell on Olivia. He seemed to straighten up, to become taller, and everything about him became very still.
She met his gaze boldly. The petticoats swished around her legs when she walked. She felt the swing of her arms, the sway of her hips, even the slight bounce of her breasts. All the women stood behind her, waiting for Rashid’s reaction.
“Spin around again like you did for us in the tent,” Fatima whispered to Olivia.
Rashid’s nomad clothes made him look primitive and very male. His eyes were intent on her, like the eyes of an animal watching its prey. He was motionless except for a slight quivering of his nostrils.
Olivia lifted her arms slowly, and the women stepped back away from her. Then she began the pirouette. She moved as if in a trance. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. But still the skirt rose, its colors blurring as she spun, and she felt dizzy and flushed when she stopped. She gave Rashid a smile that came from some new knowledge.
“You are a temptress,” he said in English. His eyes were dark pools that beckoned her to tempt and be tempted.
“The ladies are waiting to see what you think of their handiwork.”
He stepped toward her and reached his hand up to touch her face at her temple. Then he slid it down until it cupped the nape of her neck. A shiver of response rippled through her, but she didn’t move.
“She is very beautiful,” he said in Farsi. “The costume is perfect. She is perfect.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. The speculations and remarks of the nomads hushed. A crow cawed in the distance, and then it was silent too. She was mesmerized. She felt possessed.
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MIDWIFE IN BEHRUZ
End of 2017
Laila’s trip to Behruz, her father’s country and home of her early years, is meant to be one last adventure before she joins her dreamboat fiancé in Texas. But Behruz casts a spell on her. Her knowledge as a midwife is needed there. Serving women’s health in a country where no one talks about “such things” presents interesting challenges.
Majid, a doctor trained in the States, has returned to Behruz to serve his people. He’s ready to settle down, but because of old family wounds, American women are forbidden to him. That’s no problem until Laila walks into his clinic—with a sassy smile, a jar of semen, and a blond fiancé back home.
I grew up in Minnesota but now live in a small town in Oregon with my husband Jim. I’m a mom, grandma, wife, gardener, cat-lover, nerd, and traveler.
I’ve had a few different careers, starting with work as a systems engineer for IBM after college. Then there was my “earth-mother” stage. Jim and I had a farm in northern California where we raised kids (one of our own and several foster kids), apples, Asian pears, and raspberries. When we retired from farming and moved to Oregon (when we should have been done with the parenting thing), we added one more child, a 10-year-old girl adopted from a Russian orphanage.
Next, when our new daughter was settled into the family, I became a doula and childbirth educator. (See www.doulajudy.com and www.mexicanmidwives.com) During 20 years of working as a doula, I helped 460 women in labor.
During a sabbatical from career number one (computers), I spent a year in the Middle East, traveling and camping in a Landrover. Later, Jim and I spent a year and a half in Iran working as computer engineers on a project that was meant to modernize the Iranian phone system (but was interrupted by the revolution). I based the fictional country of Behruz on Iran and Afghanistan as I knew them back then, before war and political turmoil altered both countries.
Now, at last, I’m fulfilling a lifetime dream by writing. My second romance novel, Midwife in Behruz, which will come out at the end of 2017, draws on my experience with childbirth. I’ve just started plotting the final book in what will be a trilogy of stories set in Behruz.
PROMO TOUR FOR PATRICIA CHARLES
PROMO TOUR FOR PATRICIA CHARLES
UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
Genre: Contemporary Romance with Military Elements
Nothing could drag Kristen McConnell back to re-enacting. Nothing, except the wedding of her best friend. Maybe Creed Graham wouldn’t attend the 150th Battle of the Wilderness. Maybe she wouldn’t see him even if he was.
When Creed discovered Civil War reenacting, he knew it held everything he loved: history, horses, sleeping under the stars, guys drinking beer by the campfire. There was nothing better. Then he met Kirsten McConnell. And she ruined everything for him.
The Wilderness held his salvation. He knew she would return after three long years. This time he would erase her from his heart for good,
While the Battle of the Wilderness rages in explosions of cannon fire, Kirsten can no longer avoid Creed. Will they continue their war or will there be an Unconditional Surrender?
Where else in the entire world but at a reenactment could one cross the lines of history, camp near a forest and go shopping at the same time? She marveled at the people in period clothing as they browsed through the shops—a 19th century shopping mall made of canvas tents. Thousands of men, women and children wandered through the tents for items made especially for reenactors.
The sounds of approaching horses jarred her attention from the earrings. Her hands trembled so much she dropped the jewelry back into the case.
Just because there were cavalry, didn’t mean Creed would be riding with them. Maybe he hadn’t even come, Kirsten rationalized. Perhaps he gave up reenacting long ago.
But as the pounding hooves on the dirt road grew closer, her heart mimicked their thunder. She wiped the perspiration from her quivering hands onto her skirt.
Get it over with. You’ll be anticipating him to be on every horse you hear or see. On the other hand, if she could avoid him for the weekend, she wouldn’t have to address the problems that plagued her so long.
Yet, if she came face-to-face with him again, she might be disappointed. Could it be that only his memory caused her heart to flutter? Impulse drove her to the edge of the sutler’s tent. Hiding behind the rows of Confederate butternut jackets hanging at the edge of the tent so he wouldn’t see her, she peeked over the clothes as the tide of Yankee blue surged upon her. She glanced from face to face, searching for the one who made her anticipating heart threaten to burst from her body.
The snake-like column drew to an end. No Creed. Relief overcame curiosity, and she glided from her hiding place.
Then, as if the devil played with her heart, he appeared at the tail of the procession. Their eyes met. He squinted through the dust at her. Beneath his slouch hat, a frown creased his forehead, and his teeth clenched.
Recognition. Yes, he recognized her, and she recognized something also. If she ever doubted, she appreciated that he was still the most handsome man in the world, at least to her. Steeling herself, Kirsten faced the man she would love forever.
As he neared, she recalled his tousled hair when he woke at her side and how his original declaration of love caused her to sob so hard she couldn’t answer. Most of all, she remembered the look in his eyes as they glowed with desire.
Yet today was different, not just because they already had loved each other or because he proposed and she accepted. Her heart still trembled as it had every time she looked at him, but today was different mainly because a young boy, perhaps two years old, sat before him on the saddle. The child was a close duplicate of Creed from his black hair covered with a Yankee kepi to the boots on his tiny feet. He looked up at Creed with a smile and adoration.
CRESCENT MOON
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Sinner or saint?
When Celine St. Pierre is murdered under the canopy of oaks on St. Charles Avenue, questions arise about this New Orleans sainted woman, and Assistant District Attorney Claressa Dupré vows to find the answers. Top of her list of suspects is the sexy Texan, West Morgan, IV.
Wealthy oil baron Weston Morgan, IV, arrived in New Orleans on a mission to return to Texas what Celine St. Pierre stole from him and his family. But the woman’s death throws a monkey wrench in the works and pins him as the top suspect in the murder investigation. Further complicating his life is the beautiful but determined Clarissa Dupré, whom he can’t seem to get close enough to or far enough from.
As the investigation spirals out of control, Clarissa and Morgan find that nothing is simple in The Big Easy.
The evidence against West Morgan in Celine St. Pierre’s death practically stuffed the valise she carried. Yet she lacked the most important: motive. Why had Morgan come to New Orleans? Why had he killed Celine? What circumstances had driven him to murder? Not that she needed a motive, but she’d learned juries preferred it.
Astonishingly, his attorneys had asked to meet with her.
“Mr. Morgan.” She glanced up from her notes. Eyes cold, calculating, and conceited gazed back at her through hooded lids. Celine St. Pierre hadn’t stood a chance.
“I only have a few questions.”
“Take all the time you need,” he answered. “I’ve nothing else on my agenda today.”
“Why did you kill Celine St. Pierre?”
“I didn’t.”
“Didn’t you?” She glanced at the three attorneys, and suddenly she envisioned the three monkeys: see, hear, and speak no evil. “Then prove it to me.”
Removing the Stetson, he threaded his fingers through his hair. “Hell, Honey, I don’t have to. Remember? I’m innocent until you prove otherwise.”
Honey? She’d worked long and hard to get where she was. No one called her, “Honey.”
His hand was on the doorknob.
“Mr. Morgan, you agreed to answer some questions.”
After several anxious moments, Morgan shrugged off his attorney’s instructions not to answer. “Ask away.”
Glancing back at the note pad where she had listed the questions, she proceeded. “Why did you sell more than half of your assets before you came to New Orleans?”
He sat in the hard wooden chair at the end of the table, like a corporate giant ruling his boardroom. Crossing one leg over the other, he rested his ankle on his knee and his Stetson on the table. His long legs appeared to go on forever.
She asked again, “Why did you sell off your assets?”
“Ask my accountant.”
“I have.” She waited, hoping he would reply. Nothing.
“Why did you put all of it into checking accounts?”
“I’ve been to New Orleans before,” he said, and Claressa inched forward, anticipating his answer, the last puzzle piece. “Knowing your city’s reputation, I didn’t want to carry that much cash on me.”
Smart aleck. “And why would you need that much money during your visit?” At least this cowboy didn’t spurt four-letter words at her. Or lunge for her throat. Not yet, anyway.
Thankful for the civil atmosphere, she took a deep breath and a different route. “How long have you known Celine St. Pierre?”
No response.
“Mr. Morgan . . . “
“West.”
“Mr. Morgan, why did you kill Mrs. St. Pierre?”
He shot forward so quickly that Claressa jerked back. West leaned as far as possible over the wide table and demanded, “Look at me.”
She tilted her chin defiantly, met his gaze, and tried to seem undisturbed.
“I’m successful. I’m rich. Why would I have to kill someone?”
“Rich people kill all the time. Don’t you read the news? Why would you kill Mrs. St. Pierre? What’s the connection?”
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Patricia Charles remembers going to the public library when she was a small child. The library was only a block away. Because she was too young to cross the street alone, her older brother reluctantly volunteered to take her. Of course, she wouldn’t let him carry her books. She was a big girl. She had so many books she had to balance them with her chin, and she cried when she had to return them. Books have been in her life as long as she can remember.
Her love of books eventually lead her to the theatre. She has a Master’s of Arts in Drama and Communication and a Master’s of Library and Information Sciences. Naturally, she is a librarian, a medical librarian.
She is a member of the Romance Writers of American, Southern Louisiana Chapter of RWA and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers. In 2013, she won Best Historical and Highest Overall Score in the Dixie Kane Contest.
Patricia lives on the Gulf Coast, having moved there from New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. Frodo, her large 16-pound Pomeranian, likes to lick her feet while she writes.
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July 13, 2017
Romance Between The Pages presents...
Ever wondered about the personalities behind your favorite books? Victoria Danann's new podcast with Riley J. Ford has an incredible lineup of authors booked through the spring. No question is out of bounds. Check it out!
THIS WEEK'S BEST SELLING AUTHOR...
L.P. DOVER!
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.
Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can't forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols.
Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written countless novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, the Armed and Dangerous series, the Royal Shifters series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
Listen on Itunes (Subscribe so you never miss an episode! It’s FREE!)
July 10, 2017
SIMON SAYS by Victoria Danann
SIMON SAYS
Simon Tvelgar wasn’t always the staid and steady director of the Order of the Black Swan headquarters in Edinburgh who manages the most unruly congregation of talented misfits ever assembled into one organization.
No. He was once a young, beautiful, athletically gifted knight, wild and lustful as any, until he fell in love with a Scottish fae girl who on bereavement leave. He lost her to the stones of the Orkneys as they picnicked there on Lammas twenty years before. She was swallowed up and faded from view, a look of panic on her face as she reached for him while her mouth silently formed his name. He lunged to grab her, but she was simply gone.
Year after year he traveled back to the Orkney Islands and talked to locals, but Shivaun was never seen again. Simon channeled his sorrow and loneliness into work until he eventually rose to the highest position open to an ex Black Swan knight.
Now, for the first time, he thinks there might be someone who could find Shivaun. Rosie Storm.
This novella introduces a new Black Swan series, D.I.T., Department of Interdimensional Trespass.
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Victoria Danann is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty romances. For the past four years in a row, Victoria's Knights of Black Swan series have won prestigious Reviewers' Choice Awards for both BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES and PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL OF THE YEAR. This past year three of her series and three of her novels were nominated. Two of her series took the top two places and two of her books took first and second place in the PNR Novel of the Year category.
In addition to vampire hunting knights, Victoria writes other paranormal romance, scifi, fantasy, and contemporary romance.
Victoria co-hosts the popular ROMANCE BETWEEN THE PAGES podcast which can be found on itunes or at → www.romancecast.com
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DIGITAL VELOCITY by Reily Garrett
DIGITAL VELOCITY
The McAllister Justice Series Book 1
by Reily Garrett
Genre: Suspense/Thriller
The deadliest weapons are the ones we never see.
Keyboard prodigy, Lexi Donovan has risen from teenage orphan of the streets to complete independence with little help along the way. When a pervert threatens her friend, she sends an anonymous message to police, leading to a firefight that leaves a cop wounded.
Detective Ethan McAllister’s well-ordered life turned upside down the day an obscure text message led to a sexual predator’s identity and arrest. Since then, Callouston PD’s finest can’t trace the elusive hacker. The latest tip leads him to a brutal mutilation and a riddle indicating the identity of the next murder victim.
The dark net houses a playground for the morally depleted and criminally insane. When Lexi discovers the killer’s digital betting arena, she finds herself centered in a cyber stalker’s crosshairs, a psychopath bearing equal talent.
Street life strengthened Lexi while toughening her protective shell, but nothing could shield her from the shrewd detective forging a path to her heart.
“Digital Velocity is a fast-paced romantic suspense thriller that sophisticatedly weaves drama, excitement, grit, raw emotions and mystery. Garrett takes her readers on a journey where suspense and romance are taken up several notches as she unfolds and reveals the identity of a murderer that is on the loose. With her vivid prose, Garrett entices readers to see the bond that is brewing between Detective Ethan McAllister and his unlikely informant.” Michelle Tan, RT Book Reviews
I move frequently—but gain no distance.
I am warm, moist, and dark but give no comfort.
I can stretch and shrink, giving or taking at will, bringing both pain and pleasure with each.
“If God wanted you to tie the knot, he’d give you a near-death experience to better appreciate life, along with a craving for procreation. Then he’d smother your soul with the essence of venison, squirrel, frog legs, taters, and beer, to attract a likely counterpart from the sticks. No, wait. The latter has already happened, hasn’t it? Sorry.” Ethan narrowly kept his balance on the green-slicked, handmade bricks leading up the two-story, mauve-colored Victorian. If his 210-pound mass ended up sprawled on the steps, no doubt the picture would be splashed all over the precinct by noon with various unsavory captions.
“Maybe you should try it. The stick up your ass has to cause at least minor discomfort.” Larrick’s early-morning snark was a common greeting.
“Hey, I’m a normal guy.” Ethan glared over his shoulder.
Larrick snorted.
“Still wet from our early-morning storm. Watch your step, it’s slippery.” Scanning the myriad amorphous shadows lurking in the wood line, realization struck that he and his partner were sitting ducks if a sniper perched among the loblolly pine and oak trees lining the front and side yards.
Larrick’s reply came in equal measure of soft tones. “Either that or a large flock of birds dropped in recently to help her redecorate. Great detective work.”
“Bird droppings are—”
“Are sought after for facials. Especially the Japanese Nightingale shit.”
“Only you would know that.” Ethan adjusted his tie, an acknowledgment of the apprehension filling his mind.
“Are we whispering because your paranoid gut can’t assimilate food well enough to distinguish indigestion from an outside threat? This woman lives alone, gonna think we’re a couple of perverts and be liable to shoot us.”
“Word has it she’s a pacifist.”
“Fine. You’re one to talk about signs—dragging my ass to a stranger’s house at this ungodly morning hour to knock on the door and ask, ‘Lady, are you all right? We’re police detectives who received an anonymous tip you might have a hangnail. Perhaps we could lend you a pair of nail clippers?’” Derision and humor warred for dominance in Larrick’s tone, yet his sharp gaze continually scanned the perimeter in consideration of his partner’s unarticulated hunch. Yin and yang, they fit together, a clean-cut detective and his partner whose hair length had passed regulation specs weeks ago.
“You know this isn’t the first tip we’ve gotten, not to mention the fact that the other leads were solid and led to arrests. And while we’re at it, why don’t you step to the side? Standard police procedure when approaching an unknown situation.” Ethan turned sideways, standing by the door with his hand poised to knock on the solid oak. He hesitated. Moisture coated his palms, a rare occurrence. Scrutinizing the interior through the door’s narrow sidelights yielded nothing more than expected. Elegantly upholstered furniture, gleaming hardwood floors, and delicate bric-a-brac adorning the thick mantle and each side table completed the sophisticated picture. “Don’t see any problem. Maybe she’s fallen and can’t get to a phone.”
“You expected an old lady brandishing her curling iron? As for leads, I get mine from three-dimensional people while you get yours from a bunch of ones and zeroes. Why can’t our IT department trace your anonymous texts further than the loony bin? Though that’s probably appropriate, since your secret admirer’s last present consisted of a flower basket bigger than my TV, along with fur-lined cuffs. I’ve never laughed so hard I pissed myself. I thought that was hogwash, a myth made up by old ladies.” Larrick leaned over the iron railing to peer through the window. “Can’t see squat, bottom sill’s too high.”
“As my partner, you’re supposed to have my back, not stab me in the back. You didn’t have to broadcast it through the whole department by hanging the cuffs from the sprinkler system with a bunch of roses twined in them. Now my brothers won’t let up, and I’ve been subscribed to every kinky magazine known to the publishing world. You think I should know why some whacko chose me for their personal marionette?” Ethan suppressed a shudder before his partner gained more verbal ammunition. If his suspicions were correct, his informant was, in fact, a beautiful enigma with waist-length, chestnut hair and an emerald gaze capable of melting steel.
“Maybe because you were the youngest to make detective? Rising star, golden boy, and all that shit.”
“No. Probably afraid your redneck ways would rub off on them, or maybe because I’m the biggest sap.” Ethan’s gut rumbled, more of a warning sign from a well-heeled intuition than hunger. “Larrick, this doesn’t feel right.” Behind him, the slide of metal on leather let him know his partner just palmed his Glock. Three years of working together circumvented the formality of dissecting gut reactions.
A creak of leather sole betrayed Larrick’s backtracking to scrutinize the surroundings. “Side windows are lower. I’ll take a look.”
“Hood of her BMW is cold. Didn’t go anywhere recently.” Larrick’s harsh whisper halted a nearby squirrel scampering up a tree, its head cocked to one side while studying the strange human interlopers.
Sunshine warmed the first spring buds on the low shrubbery bordering the walkway to complete the idyllic setting. Nothing but peace and serenity, yet Ethan’s heart hammered against his ribcage like an aggressive punk drummer. With his partner disappearing around the corner, he again scanned the perimeter while the morning’s corrupted equanimity formed a sour wad in his chest. A lazy March breeze combed its cool fingers through his short hair while the deep foreboding received with the initial text message blossomed into multiple horrific scenarios, leaving one of them a corpse, their life’s essence forming macabre shapes on gleaming hardwood floors.
“I see bare feet beyond the kitchen island. Toes up. Probably female.” Larrick’s disembodied whisper just provided probable cause. “Backup?”
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A Dark Prequel to Digital Velocity
Theft of spirit is no one’s birthright.
A quirk of her X chromosome furnished Alexis with an edge few others enjoyed. After fate plunged her into orphan status and an intolerable foster home forced her to the streets, a group of prostitutes sheltered her from their vicious pimp. Seeing something special within, they nurtured and shielded her from their harsh reality until she could forge her own path in life.
Destiny frequently takes us back to our roots. Lexi’s return journey begins when a serial killer attacks one of her adopted sisters. Relying on courage and wit, she must stay a step ahead and secure evidence to free her family from a psychopathic murderer.
Reily’s employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction.
Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed…after the kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.
In life, hobbies can come and go according to our physical abilities, but you can always enjoy a good book. Life isn’t perfect, but our imaginations can be. Relax, whether it’s in front of a fire or in your own personal dungeon. Take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.
THE TROUBLESOME APPRENTICE by Liza O'Connor
THE TROUBLESOME APPRENTICE
Genre: Victorian Sleuths/Mystery series
While investigating the death of a friend and client, Maddy Hamilton, Xavier Thorn (reputed to be the greatest sleuth in England) is greatly impressed with Maddy’s nephew, Victor, and offers him a job as his secretary. Aware of Xavier’s history of firing secretaries, Victor garners a promise that for three months he cannot be fired.
Vic then proceeds, in Xavier’s view, to be cheeky and impertinent at every turn. Xavier endures the impudent pup because Victor is most skilled in extracting the truth from clients and intuiting facts with little evidence to assist.
As they solve a string of cases, Xavier discovers a few more important details about his troublesome apprentice, such as her true gender, and the realization that she has awakened his long dormant heart.
“Heed my words, Victor, for if you disobey me tonight, I will torture you each day forthwith and you will never be allowed to accompany me on another mission.”
His dark eyes narrowed as he studied her, evidently trying to determine if she intended to obey his orders. “Consider it a test of your ability to follow my instructions and do not dare fail.”
“I won’t.” Vic ensured her response sounded less surly and more sincere in tone.
Xavier placed his hand on her back. “Good lad. Now, if Inspector Stone received my note, his men are probably watching the exterior of your house. When this man…, let us call him Mr. GewGaw, arrives, they will no doubt insist upon sneaking up the stairs to stand ready outside the door. I’ve forewarned your impudent butler, lest we have a commotion. However, the key reason I mention this, Victor, is to warn you to remain in the closet. If Inspector Stone burst into the room, he might mistake you for the murderer. You will thus remain hidden until I retrieve you. Do you understand?”
With a sigh, Vic nodded her head.
“Good. Now not another word or you will find yourself in hell.”
She wanted to say threats were not necessary, but she feared her protest might toss her into the promised hell, since he had said ‘not another word’.
***
Vic learned much about her new profession over the next four hours.
Lesson one: Waiting for a criminal to show might rank the most tedious and boring occupation in the world.
Lesson two: Remaining perfectly still, stuffed into a dress closet for hours, caused muscle cramps that hurt like bloody hell.
Lesson three: The desire to sniffle can reach a level of mental anguish in less than an hour.
Lesson four: One should always go to the water closet before beginning a surveillance mission.
Lesson five: If not for the mental torture of sniffle prevention, the pain of muscle cramps, and great need for a toilet, a person waiting to assist would surely fall asleep, for the body is accustomed to sleeping when it’s dark and nothing is going on.
Lesson six: The profession of banking has its good points and should be reassessed.
A soft bumping noise distracted Vic from her list. At first, she suspected Xavier had dozed off and fallen onto the floor. However, as further noise sounded, including the breaking of glass, Vic knew their plan had come to fruition. Soon, they would have Aunt Maddy’s killer.
Vic listened as the window opened followed by a great deal of huffing and wheezing. Finally, the sound of feet thudded onto the floor. Drawers opened and closed while someone systematically searched Aunt Maddy’s room. As time went on, Vic questioned the wisdom of her hiding place. Soon, the man would open the closet to search it as well. Vic readied herself to leap out, deciding surprise would be her best defense.
She could hear the man breathing outside the closet and readied herself for attack. Before the door actually opened, the lights in the room came on and Xavier spoke with a deadly calmness that sent chills down her spine. “Lost something?”
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The Missing Partner ✯ The Mesmerist ✯ Well Kept Secrets ✯ Pack of Trouble ✯ The Darkest Days ✯ The Crimelords’ War ✯ Toxic Diamonds
Liza O’Connor lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels.
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XMAS IN JULY ROMANCES by Nikki Lynn Barrett
XMAS IN JULY ROMANCES
We Wish You A Ferret Christmas, Scrooge You!, and It's Always Something
by Nikki Lynn Barrett
Genre: Holiday Romances
WE WISH YOU A FERRET CHRISTMAS
One lost and found ferret may bring two broken families together this Christmas.
Widower Lance Rossiter is struggling this holiday season. His young daughter is recovering after an accident. The first thing she asks for when she's able to talk again is her lost pet's whereabouts- the very same one Lance blames for the accident...
Cara McLean is still dealing with her feelings about her son's recent diagnosis. The widowed mother of two very different kids feels like she's coming apart at the seams. When her son attaches himself to a stray ferret, the situation brings her closer to Lance and his daughter.
The pair quickly learn they have a lot in common and form a deep emotional bond, but neither can let go of the insecurities from their past. They're forced to reevaluate the things that haunt them before the shot of a future together is shattered.
Lance enjoyed the 'Watching Cara' game. Actually, her habits and gestures were hard to peg. So she could get him correctly. Was it the way he tucked in his shirts? The slacks? He debated on asking her what gave it away and how she guessed him to be organized.
The one thing he noticed about her was she always looked around nervously, very aware of her surroundings and the people. “You're either a people watcher, or you're nervous about something.” He blurted.
Cara stopped picking at the tomato slice hanging from her sandwich and narrowed her eyes. “Is this you trying to peg me?”
“A little. I notice this because I'm trying to peg you.” He smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I'm a little of both. I watch people for their reactions, and I am nervous for several reasons.” Her cheeks reddened. Lance loved the way he easily made her blush, not that he meant to do it.
“Reactions? To what?”
A heavy silence fell over the table. Cara scanned the deli before facing him again. “Force of habit. I guess even when he's not around, I watch the people around me because of how Alex is at times. I've had several rude comments about his behaviors. Until you pointed it out, I never realized how much I do this.” Setting her food down, Cara sat up straight. “Now I feel all weird.”
“Wasn't meant to make you feel weird. I'm sorry if that's what happened. I was just trying to find quirks about you.”
SCROOGE YOU!
After a nasty public break up, actor Kevin Wright returns to his small Nevada hometown for his baby sister's wedding. Dubbed as “Scrooge” by his ex girlfriend's slander, Kevin's life and career are on the verge of being destroyed. He'd give anything not to have to tell the truth of what really happened, but staying silent may not be the answer.
Sasha Moretti has big dreams, but is weighed down by the lack of funds to get her ailing father into a facility that can provide twenty-four hour care. He's all she has, but he isn't getting any better. Taking care of him at home is proving to be harder with each passing day. After several run ins with Kevin, the boy she loathed in high school, an opportunity arrives that Sasha finds hard to turn down...
Between the holidays and a wedding, there's a little madness and magic in the air. Romantic feelings develop between Kevin and Sasha, but when the truth is spoken, can they both get past their demons and let a little love in their hearts?
Kevin left her completely flabbergasted. He was so...Kevin! Sarcastic, sexy, sweet, lovable, and so much more. The fact that he was honest and sincere tugged on her heart. She had him figured out all wrong back then. Becoming an actor hadn't changed him, either.
People were staring. Big time. Some whispered to each other, and some pointed. One woman even started walking toward them, then changed her mind.
“I think you're being noticed today,” Sasha whispered to Kevin.
“Or maybe it's you. It's not often I have a gorgeous girl on my arm.” He winked and kissed her cheek. He was being very touchy feely today. Sasha would almost think it was for show, but Kevin did it privately as well.
They fit. The two meshed so well. Two misfits in a world of confusion and change. Her future was uncertain, while Kevin's only went up as time went on. Could they make something work? Sasha's feelings for him grew stronger, especially with his genuine concern over her life.
“What do you think of this one?” He pointed to a tree which barely had any limbs on the bottom. It was tiny, maybe about four feet. The tree reminded her of herself, someone who never bloomed.
“Are you messing with me again?” Sasha asked.
“This tree needs a home. Look at it. He's lonely. The droopy limbs here? It's because the tree is hunched over in sadness. No one wants to take it home.” Kevin actually ran his hand along one of the limbs in a petting motion.
This man was damn convincing. Kevin's words tore at her, making her care about the stupid tree as if it were alive. Well, trees did live, but... Damn him. She was a sap!
“I see it in your eyes. You're contemplating.” Kevin moved behind the tree. “Take me home, Sasha. Love me! Love me!” Then he gently shook the longest limbs, trying to reach out for her. “Hug me! Decorate me!”
“Oh my God! Stop! We'll take it!” She laughed, clutching her stomach.
Kevin peered from behind the tree, flashing that gorgeous smile again. “Aren't I a stinker?”
“Yes!” She hugged him. “A kind hearted, annoying, and funny one!”
“I'm glad you said kind hearted first.” He tousled her hair, holding her close. “Now let's go take our new tree home and spiffy it up.”
IT'S ALWAYS SOMETHING
This isn't your every day sweet holiday story. Between mishaps, crazy work schedules, and giving back to others, this wild ride is full of the unexpected.
Christmas. The magical time of the year where you spend it with your family. Go out and do a little holiday shopping. Spread the Christmas cheer. Cherish the memories and your loved ones.
But when you're famous celebrity couple Tucker and Quinn McGinnis, things don't always go as planned. This year, they want more than ever to spend their first holiday together, but their celebrity status has them pulled in a thousand different directions.
When marriages are crumbling all around them, how does this newlywed couple manage to keep things going when it's always something keeping them apart?
Tucker covered her hand with his. “A few weeks left. We just have a few weeks, and we can go home.” Home to a house full of memories. Full of love. Memories of bringing Quinn there the first few times consumed him. How in awe she'd been over his awards. The guitar lessons which started their friendship in the first place, until Piper needed guardians and he'd gotten ahead of himself and blurted that they were getting married.
No regrets. He had absolutely no regrets letting this woman in his life.
“Love is enough, right Tuck?” Quinn's voice came out in a low, fearful whisper.
“What do you mean?”
She slapped a hand to her head. “Listen to me, I sound like an idiot. You know what happens when I'm left alone to my thoughts. It's not easy being a celebrity couple. After hearing about all these break ups, it makes me wonder. Is love enough? Can a couple survive on it?”
“Aww, darlin'. Is this because we're seein' each other on weekends right now? I can't speak for other couples, but love is more than enough. You're it for me, Quinn. You're what keeps me goin'. I get dang lonely when I'm not holding you close to me at night, but I go through what I need to because I know I have your love and support. Whether it be five days or five weeks, when I know I get to see your smiling face, it means everything.”
Hearing her doubts, Tucker knew he needed to find a way to get the two of them some quiet time. Away from the responsibility of life, careers, and things they'd committed to. Was she feeling this lonely and worried all week? For Quinn to express her vulnerability this way after they'd been so strong together, he had concerns.
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No matter where she goes, USA Today Bestselling author Nikki Lynn Barrett hears voices in her head. Instead of calling her crazy and locking her up, her family realizes it's just a product of being an author and allows her to write the stories so that the voices shut up.
But they don't. And probably never will. There's no need to lock her up, Nikki knows she'll never escape the voices, not until each and every last story is written. And for every story she writes, about ten or more ideas pop up.
When she isn't slaving away at her computer writing books that will probably make you cry and keep you in suspense, Nikki plots to take over the world one book at a time. What? It's a sickness. One she can't escape!
Books aren't her only addiction, though. Nikki can be found making up parodies to drive her son crazy, and bantering back and forth with her husband, who somehow manages to steal her away from the fictional world she lives in all the time.
Nikki lives in Arizona with her husband and son, where she can be found using every creativity outlet she can find through music, photography, handcrafted things, and random interests that she may pick up from time to time.
If you want to learn more about the author who makes people cry for a living, check out her website.
KITTEN MINE by Kay Maree
KITTEN MINE
Mine series, book 2
by Kay Maree
Genre: Romantic Suspense 18+
KATHERINE -
The day Antonio walked into my Café I knew things were about to change. He had this presence about him, and I could see shadows in his eyes of things I could never understand. But he was like a force of nature, taking what he wanted, when he wanted. He was big, strong, and had eyes the color of the finest chocolate. Everything he made me feel, scared the hell out of me. When he opened his mouth, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap him or kiss him, he made every nerve in my body come alive. But, I have a secret. I didn’t want to let him go but its better this way. I have let enough people down in my life so, I tried to distance myself, and push him away. I never thought I could love, or trust, any man after my father left, but Antonio was here to prove me wrong, and he wasn’t going to back down.
Kitten: Antonio was determined to take me to my knees and crack me wide open.
ANTONIO -
Katherine was the kind of woman you could only ever dream up in your wildest fantasies. A woman who oozed sex kitten with every sway of her hips, and she had the attitude to go with it. With hair like fire, and eyes as blue as the sky on a clear summer's day, that body of hers I swear had a direct line to my cock. Then, she pushed me away, but I don’t go down that easy. I didn’t get to where I am today without fighting tooth and nail for it. Katherine was mine and no matter how long it took me, I was going to make her see she belonged to me, just like I already belonged to her. I know she is hiding something, I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me. I don’t care what I have to do, or how long it takes, I will find out what it is. My kitten isn’t the only one with secrets.
Antonio: Katherine brought me to my knees, and I was going to take her down with me.
After slamming my bedroom door shut, I dive on the bed, and bury my head in the pillows, hugging the teddy bear from my father close to my chest while trying to block out the screaming going on downstairs.
“Why would you think it’s ok to take your little sister to that party?" Mom yells.
“Mom, nothing happened." My sister’s words sound slightly slurred.
“That’s not the point. You’re older, you know better than this, and instead of looking after her you got drunk and left her to fend for herself.”
“So, I’m not supposed to have fun because I have to look out for her?"
“You’re supposed to take some responsibility and look out for your sister”
Pushing my head deeper into my pillows so I can’t hear them anymore, I wish I could take back telling mom where I was because I know my sister will turn this around on me. It’s always the way. Suddenly, my door flies open. Ashley, my sister, is standing in the doorway with a pissed off look on her face.
“This is all your fault. If you had kept your mouth shut, none of this would have happened.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think mom would have been home from work.”
“You’re the reason everything has turned to shit. You’re the reason daddy left and now mom says we have to move back to Newcastle. You’re the reason I won’t be able to see my boyfriend anymore. When are you going to stop being mommy’s little girl and grow the fuck up?"
She rushes at me and I cower. She grabs me roughly, digging her nails into my arms. I cry out as I feel her nails break the skin
“My friends are right about you, you’re pathetic and ugly. No wonder you have no friends.”
“That’s not true I have, Brooklyn." I defend myself in a weak voice.
“She won’t be your friend when she finally wises up and sees how pathetic you really are.”
I gaze through tear-filled eyes into the eyes of my sister, not recognizing who she is anymore. Ever since daddy left, she has been different. I use to look up to her and wanted to be just like her when I got older. With her beautiful blonde hair and tanned skin, size 8 figure. She’s perfect. Me? I have fiery red hair, pale skin and curves.
Her words hurt every bit as much as the things she does to me. I feel like I owe her, not being the good sister she deserved. I’m not clever like Ashley either. I do okay in school, but I’m not the smartest person. I don’t have a lot of friends. I have Brooklyn and when we don’t have school we’re constantly together. I’m not sure how I’ll cope if we move away from here.
I run my finger over the recent cut on my wrist hidden under my watch, Ashley looks down and notices what I’m doing.
“Why don’t you save us all the trouble and do it already, I’m sick of hearing you cry every night. You're broken and that will never change."
She pushes me back onto the bed and I watch through tear-filled eyes as she leaves my bedroom. I wait until I hear the door shut before I crawl under the covers, pull my diary out, and let the worthlessness I feel out.
Dear Diary,
Why did I open my mouth, why do I ruin everything I touch?
It’s all my fault. If only I was a better sister, maybe then Ashley would like me.
No wonder daddy left. I’m so pathetic.
I vow from this moment on, the only person I will trust is Brooklyn until she realizes I’m not worth the trouble and she walks away too.
I will build a wall around myself, one brick at a time, and keep pushing forward.
I will try to be stronger than the blade I hold in my hand.
I hate myself.
BROOKLYN -
I'm scared but I have to be strong not just for me but for my beautiful daughter, after years of being emotionally and physically abused it needed to end.
I always wanted a love like the fairy tales I was told as a child, a love like my parents had but after escaping hell I lost all hope.
Trusting another man and falling in love was now the last thing on my mind, making it through everyday was now the new goal for my daughter and me.
Then everything changed the day I looked into the most captivating green eyes I have ever seen, it was like they saw into my very soul.
And I knew nothing would ever be the same again.
DOMININC -
I was brought up in a dangerous world, a world I had to quickly become accustomed to.
It took my brothers death and the events that unfolded after that lead me to be the man I am today a Mob Boss.
One of the most powerful man in Newcastle, I'm not a good guy, I have done bad things.
I closed my true self off the day I failed to protect the one person I loved dearly, and she paid the ultimate price.
But one look into those ocean blue eyes and I felt my whole purpose in life shift, I didn't deserve her but I was going to make her Mine.
I had finally found the missing pieces to my heart I didn't know I was missing and I wasn't letting them go...
Angel: "I WANTED TO BE THE LAST THING HE TASTED AT NIGHT, AND THE FIRST THING HE TOUCHED IN THE MORNING"
Dom: "SHE BROUGHT ME TO MY KNEES, AND I NEVER WANTED TO GET BACK UP"
I live in Newcastle, on the New South Wales coast of Australia with my husband and three beautiful children.
Between being a taxi for my children, and working full-time, I somehow find the time to write. It’s something I love with a passion and with the encouragement of my very supportive husband, I have accomplished one of my dreams – releasing my first novel.
I hope you fall in love with my characters as much as I have.
I love reading and getting lost in a good book when I manage to snatch five minutes to myself.
July 6, 2017
Romance Between The Pages presents...
Ever wondered about the personalities behind your favorite books? Victoria Danann's new podcast with Riley J. Ford has an incredible lineup of authors booked through the spring. No question is out of bounds. Check it out!
THIS WEEK'S BEST SELLING AUTHOR... LAUREN BLAKELY!
A #1 New York Times Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s hot, sweet and sexy. She lives in California with her family and has plotted entire novels while walking her dogs.
With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than eighty times, and she’s sold more than 2 million books. In June she’ll release THE KNOCKED-UP PLAN, a standalone contemporary romance. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter!
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