Kathryn Nolan's Blog, page 13

Moving forward.

Dear beautiful reader,

I want to start this off by saying Black lives matter. And to quote Angela Davis: "In a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist." 

Since the killing of George Floyd on May 25th, I have listened, learned, un-learned, read, listened some more -- to Black activists, creators, romance authors, writers, and voices. One of the clearest messages is the reminder that fighting for racial equality, creating an anti-racist society, and being an ally are all verbs. Actions, not nouns. The work is behind-the-scenes. We must continue to examine our behaviors and actions, then commit to keep going.

To that end, this newsletter includes some of the resources I've found most useful. This list doesn't even scrape the surface, and there are many more comprehensive lists online, like this one. There are also many, many more qualified Black voices who are (and have been) speaking about injustice - this list is a good start. Since it's also Pride Month, and I am a very proud bisexual lady, I'm also including some of my favorite queer romances.

Before writing romance, I had the great privilege to work alongside men, women and children experiencing homelessness for 8+ years. This gave me the opportunity to work with many talented activists, advocates and policy-makers. I share this not to paint myself as an expert -- I most definitely am not -- but to reiterate that this work is truly behind the scenes -- from a phone call, to a petition, to voting, to protesting, to demonstrating your values through philanthropy. It's all of that plus a million more actions. It might be easy to feel overwhelmed, but I share because I also witnessed that each action mattered. 

I've listened a lot in the romance community and have seen so many romance readers standing up and taking clear action. If you're reading this right now and wondering why a romance author is talking about this in her newsletter, just a reminder that the romance novel community reflects the world we live in. Which means the romance novel community is steeped in racism and bias (among many other forms of discrimination). The only silver lining to that egregious fact is that it means *you* can make a difference in the community you love so much. We will not "go back to normal" -- that "normal" is and was unacceptable. 

I also deeply acknowledge and recognize the vital role that romance novels and happily-ever-afters play in the life of my readers. You have all shared your love for books about love and I take that seriously. I will always continue to provide Walter pictures and camping stories and share my steamy romance novels with you. But I am making it clear that we as a community - authors and readers alike - have an enduring responsibility toward progress. Moving ever forward and not backward. 

With love,
Kathryn

Gladys and Gloria's Top Drink Recipes!

Gladys and Gloria are the twin sisters who "work" at Big Sur's only post office. They love drinking on the job, spying on the neighbors with military-grade binoculars, and steamy Harlequin romance novels. When we first meet these two in LANDSLIDE , they are trying to convince Gabe to hang up their paintings of erect penises at his bar. 

And they only get better from there!

*****

Gloria: Now it's important to remember that while at work, you can legally begin mixing cocktails at 11:00 am.

Gladys: Gloria and I watch a lot of NCIS, so our legal knowledge is unparalleled. A lot of locals come to us for legal help, which we're happy to give while processing their stamps and packages.

Gloria: Technically, according to our boss Kevin, this kind of behavior is "frowned upon" and also "cause to be fired" but the last time I listened to Kevin I had a perm and was wearing acid-wash jeans. So there ya have it.

Gladys: While I get out our newest romance novels to enjoy, Gloria will usually start preparing the ingredients. Our first recipe is called the Vodka Neat and we make it using the stash of vodka we've been storing beneath our desks since our first day on the job.

Gloria: Our motto since birth has been to appropriately plan for the Apocolypse via strategic liquor stashes across Big Sur. If the world ends, and you're hankering for a drink, come find us. Oh and we own a surprising amount of Victorian-era erotica.

Gladys: To make the Vodka Neat, you pour two fingers of vodka into your coffee mug and enjoy. Customers and Kevin will never know what's inside!

Gloria: This drink is a real favorite of ours. Especially on Mondays.

Gladys: Now the Whiskey Neat is similar, except it involves whiskey. My whiskey guy is Fritz, the farmer, and every time he comes in for stamps he'll unload three or four bottles for Gloria and me. Glo and I repaid the favor by singing Prince songs to his cattle when they won't move.

Gloria: We also don't spy on him as much as we do our other neighbors. Common courtesy. I mean, if you're gonna bring me whiskey, the least I can do is not look in through your windows.

Gladys: The Whiskey Neat can be made in that same coffee mug, or enjoyed out of shot glasses lined up by your computer. Either works and it's really a matter of preference.

Gloria: Our tequila cocktails we save for Fridays and Wednesdays. We prepare and drink those out of shot glasses that Lucia bought us. Mine says "I'm the hot sister"

Gladys: Mine also says "I'm the hot sister".

Gloria: Listen, we're both the hot sister. And tequila goes down smooth in this recipe we call Tequila Neat. Simply pour the tequila and knock it back like it's Prohibition and you're worried cops will bust in at any second.

Gladys: Truly delicious.

Kevin: For the love of god, have you done any work today at all?

Gloria *rolls eyes*: We haven't done a day of work since 1979. Now cheers!

Gladys: And next time you catch us with our binoculars, please invite us in for dinner. We'll bring the cocktails.

Updates from the Big Sur Channel!

Gabe: As usual, any week in Big Sur isn't a 'typical' week. And ever since Josie started working with me at The Bar half the year, it seems like every local has even juicier gossip to share.

Josie *smirking*: It's because I'll do anything for juicy gossip. And it's not just me, I have to tell Lucia too. Which means I need salacious details.

Gabe: It should be mentioned that Josie and I are often the source of some salacious details.

Josie *smirking, again*: Gabe and I have gotten caught...several times...having sex...in places we shouldn't.

Gabe: Like the woods.

Josie: Trees get me goin', you know that Vikingo.

Gabe: Gladys and Gloria have taken great pride in broadcasting our romantic news across the town.

Josie: Actually, the other day, it was fucking Calvin at the Post Office, telling everyone that you and I were planning our next road trip and taking bets on where we were going to go.

Gabe: And Calvin said he'd never gossip here.

Josie: And Lucia said she'd never live in a place like this and now they run a bookstore together. *rubs hands together* But let's see. What's new on the Big Sur Channel? A herd of cattle crossed Highway 1 last Sunday and refused to move. A bunch of locals had to go out and sing "Raspberry Beret" until they moved along.

Gabe: Wait...what?

Josie: Fritz said his cattle only respond to Prince songs. Raspberry Beret gets them movin'. Which is relatable given that's my favorite song to dance to.

Gabe: I'm well aware. All of Big Sur is aware of your dancing, Josefine.

Josie *shrugs*: Well what do you got, gossip-wise? I gave the readers lazy cows.

Gabe: Calvin and Lucia hosted a Stranger Things-themed party at The Mad Ones and my father got so drunk he gave a dramatic reading from one of Gloria's favorite Harlequin novels and then passed out in the Poetry section.

Josie: Oh that's right! Fritz and I were too busy dancing to Prince.

Gabe: My fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Manahan, held a sex-toy party on the beach and a sea-gull tried to fly away with one of the vibrators.

Josie: Gladys rescued it, knocked the sand off, then took the toy home with her in her purse. It was an intimidating-looking vibrator with tentacles like a squid.

Gabe *head in hands*: Jesus.

Josie: Listen, you're the one who got me to fall in love with you and this kooky place. I'm just repeating what I saw that day. Lucia and I laughed so hard we fell off our beach chairs.

Gabe: There's never a dull day in Big Sur, that's for sure.

Josie: And the next time you're in Big Sur, be sure to stop by The Bar. We'll pour you a drink and I'll make you look at our giant album of wedding pictures.

LANDSLIDE on Ku!

Gladys and Gloria give Gabe dating advice

Gladys and Gloria are sharing their favorite drink recipes in my newsletter this week — so if you need a funny reminder of who these amazing Big Sur women are, this is one of my favorite chapters in LANDSLIDE featuring them!

5 - GABE

As soon as I walked into Big Sur’s tiny post office, everyone wanted to know about the Hollywood People.

“I don’t have much,” I said, laughing and holding up my palms in acquiescence. “And Calvin has asked me to ask all of you to please stop spying on the models through the front window.”

Gladys smirked. “I don’t think that’s a crime. Plus, my binoculars broke when I was watching my neighbor the other day. My only option is to hide in the bushes.”

“Trespassing,” I said, throwing a wink her way. “Definitely a crime, I’m afraid.”

She rolled her eyes at me and continued stacking piles of mail on the desk.

“Your father wasn’t such a rule follower, you know,” she said. “And neither was Calvin’s grandfather. They used to love when we spied on their goings-on.”

That was something I seriously doubted.

Next to her, Gloria hooted. “You just like that one with the abs,” she said. Then, turning to her customer, a red-faced tourist by the looks of it: “Stamps? Sending a package?”

As the customer stumbled through their answer, I leaned against the counter. If I had questions about how to properly court a woman, even for a day, these two would have the answer, but involving them would mean the Big Sur Channel would know everything.

But I could take that bullet for Josie.

“What bodice-ripping hero are you reading about today?” I asked.

“Feign innocence, Gladys,” Gloria said. She turned to me, waving aside the customer like an annoying fly. “Sir, I’m not sure what you’re referring to. My sister and I are simply lowly desk jockeys, proud to serve the United States Postal Service.”

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. “When do the two of you have your break?”

“Whenever the fuck we want,” Gloria drawled. Gladys nodded seriously.

Behind them, Kevin threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“We do have about a dozen customers waiting in line. But I guess that’s fine,” Kevin said with all the sarcasm he could muster. He looked a little rough around the edges, and I guessed he’d had more to drink than me at the party last night.

“Great, we’ll see you over there,” Gladys said, nodding at the counter—which was literally five feet from where I was standing. In unison, they both put up their ‘line closed’ signs, grabbed their iced coffees, and slid over to the smaller counter.

“So I’m guessing you want to tell us the real gossip,” Gloria whispered, sipping through her straw with wide eyes.

I shook my head, wondering if I was about to do something monumentally stupid.

“It’s about a girl,” I started, and before I could even get the next words out, I felt a presence by my side.

“Is it about the purple-haired girl?”

I turned to find Kevin hovering an inch from me.

“Christ, we need a movie theater in this town,” I said, turning around and noticing that most of the customers were listening in. I shot the sisters a desperate glance, and Gloria propped a hand on her hip.

“Kevin, there’s about a dozen customers in line, but I guess it’s fine you’re just standing here,” she said.

“I’ll just call your dad about it later,” he said, scurrying back behind the counter.

I turned back around, glancing at my watch. “I need your best work, ladies,” I said.

My heart was stumbling at the memory of the last time I’d had a conversation like this. Sasha had surprised me one day, asking for some space to ‘consider our future.’ I’d come to the sisters, totally in shock, trying to find a way to woo her back. I hoped romance and grand gestures would be the key to keeping her—and the sisters had whipped up something lovely. A moonlit dance on the beach, wine in a thermos, a picnic blanket on the sand. And yet when the three of us had planned it, the sisters had seemed… hesitant. Asking me questions, trying to pull out the things I loved, specifically, about Sasha. What made her my soulmate.

Gladys, specifically, had come right out and demanded to know why I hadn’t just proposed to her already—it’d been almost seven years.

And I hadn’t had a good answer.

Later when I came crawling back (Sasha had broken up with me on that same beach, and it was awful), they’d exchanged quick, mysterious glances as I told the story. They’d never specifically said ‘I told you so,’ but the loss of that relationship knocked me into an emotional tailspin for a long time.

And I hadn’t dated a woman longer than a month since then.

“Details,” Gladys said, snapping her fingers.

“Funny, weird, artsy, makeup artist from Los Angeles,” I said. “Her name is Josie.”

“What does she look like?”

Like a punk-rock dominatrix sent to make all my fantasies come true.

“A little… alternative,” I said. Even though Big Sur was filled with alternative people, it was more ‘I live off the land’ and less ‘I have a metal bar through my nose.’

“And her hair is only purple at the ends.”

“Have you kissed her yet?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, and dual sets of eyebrows raised in surprise.

“And how long is she here for?” They were scribbling down notes.

“One more night,” I said as they scribbled. I tried to read what they were writing, but they shooed me away.

“Let the masters work,” Gloria said, tapping the pen against her chin. I looked back at Kevin, scowling as he checked out customers. But they were all locals, and they were all listening.

“Does anyone else have something to say?” I said. “Or ask?”

Rex, whose family had owned a cattle farm for four generations, crossed his arms over his chest. “Is the purple-haired girl a Satanist? Kevin told me she had tattoos. Lots of ‘em.” Next to him Rosalie, an old friend of Isabelle’s, bit her lip in concern. I shot a glance at Kevin, who shrugged.

“At this point, I can neither confirm nor deny allegations of Josie’s Satan-worshiping activities,” I deadpanned, but no one laughed. I needed to give them a breadcrumb.

Sorry, Calvin.

“You know, Cal and Lucia, that super model, were getting kind of cozy, too,” I said, already forming the apology I’d need to say later. Because of his grandfather’s status, Cal was treated like a local. But emotionally, I wasn’t sure if his delicate Silicon Valley sensibilities could handle the full force of the Big Sur Channel.

The customers erupted in excited chatter. I turned back to the sisters, who were smugly crossing their arms.

Sliding the paper my way, Gladys slammed her pen down and took a long, celebratory sip from her coffee. “You’re heading to the florist, doll.”

 

 

Dancing in a wind storm!

I was super jazzed last week to do a FaceTime photo session with Heather McBride (who shot my professional portraits back in January)!

She's a rad artist and makes these virtual sessions so freaking fun. I'll be sharing more at a later date, but here are a couple of my first favorites: dancing in my office and dancing in the super-wind on my back patio! It was the reminder I needed that laughter and movement are the best medicine around. 

An Heiress and Her Canine Best Friend: A Profile of Victoria Whitney and Beatrix

A profile for Philadelphia Magazine written by staff writer, Kathryn Nolan

There are few people in the city of Philadelphia that captivate the public’s interest like our local heiress, Victoria Whitney. A wealthy philanthropist with deep, generational roots in Philadelphia’s Main Line, Victoria’s family and heritage has influenced the City of Brotherly Love since the turn of the century.

But today, I am not stepping into her famous Tudor Mansion to discuss her latest charitable endeavors – or her recent brush with the law. Instead, I am here to profile Victoria’s newest addition: a 120-pound bull mastiff named Beatrix.

“The story of how we found each other is rather enchanting,” Victoria tells me, sitting on a chaise lounge in her spectacular living room overlooking her large, forested back yard. Beatrix, all 120-pounds of her, is sprawled next to Victoria on the lounge, her giant head resting in Victoria’s lap. The heiress has dressed for the occasion, and the diamonds on her fingers match the diamonds nestled in Beatrix’s dog collar.

“You see, I had survived a terrible ordeal recently involving an old book and some nosy police officers,” Victoria says. “And I was eager for some companionship I could trust. As it turns out, dogs are much more trust-worthy than humans.”

When I ask if she’s referring to her six-month house arrest – and theft of a rare Copernicus manuscript from The Franklin Museum – she scoffs, waves the question away, and then reminds me of what her lawyers counseled me on before arriving here.

“As I was saying,” she continues, “my lovely friend Bitzi Peterson recommended this darling little nonprofit called Lucky Dog in Miami. Run by this adorable, Hells-Angel-looking man who greeted me warmly and swore he knew just the dog that would make my stone heart happy.”

At this point, the heiress gazes down at Beatrix and pats her head primly. “I was looking for a protector. A dog that would make me feel safe and, well…” she pauses here and pats the dog’s head one more time. “I was looking for a dog I could love and that would love me back. Of which Beatrix does in spades. Truly, I’m not sure if there is some kind of nationally recognized award for best dog but if there were I’d submit her name this very instant.”

When I ask her what award she believes Beatrix should win, Victoria responds with: “Best good girl, of course.”

Victoria then leads me into a grand room filled with portraits – paintings of Beatrix as different queens and empresses throughout time. Beatrix, to her credit, pads along after Victoria like a giant, tame lion, sitting and laying down as soon as her mistress snaps her fingers. “This is a painting I had commissioned of Beatrix as Queen Cleopatra. I sensed the same brave heart and fearless spirit in them both. Did you know Beatrix was rescued from a dogfighting ring?”

Victoria proceeds to show me the various scars marring the dog’s stomach and snout – Beatrix submits to Victoria’s gentle prodding, giving me a big doggy smile. “My little fighter has become such a lover, I tell you. Once we made it back home, I hired the most sought-after trainers and therapists in the country to help my sweet girl feel safe and understand she no longer needed to feel fear. She even has a few dog best friends now that she adores.” Victoria pauses to stare at Beatrix, fixing her diamond collar to center it. “Really, she just had to see that she wasn’t what people said about her at all. The dog on the inside is who she was all along. This is a feeling I’m sure we can all relate to.”

When I ask about these friends, Victoria points across the yard to another Main Line mansion. “Two tea-cup poodles named Eleanor Roosevelt and Virginia Woolf live right there and they just adore my Beatrix. I threw Beatrix a party to celebrate six months of living with me and I believe it was one of the most talked about spring events in the city. I spared no expense, of course. Over 300 people were in attendance, did you know? But Beatrix was the center of attention.”

Before leaving this portrait gallery, Victoria shows me paintings of Beatrix as Catherine the Great and Queen Isabella. We continue wondering through the massive space, with Victoria showing me the industrial-sized kitchen where a local chef prepares Beatrix’s organic meals. (“Grass-fed beef, of course,” Victoria assures me.)

“Now this wing of the house is Beatrix’s,” Victoria says, exposing large, connected rooms with beds, and balls, and complicated-looking exercise equipment. “This yard is Beatrix’s to run, and this is a special sun patio I’ve set up for her 2:00 pm nap. She must have her nap or she gets grouchy.”

Victoria shows me a room where Beatrix receives weekly massages and nail trimming, as well as aromatherapy-scented baths. “The Hells-Angel man who gave me Beatrix sent me a lovely email later checking in on how we were doing. I sent him many pictures of Beatrix dressed in her new cashmere sweater sets and eating at the dinner table with me. She’s so tall, I place her bowl on the table and we eat together every night. He simply adored them and so I sent him a generous check to thank him for acknowledging my role as Beatrix’s rescuer.”

Victoria allows Beatrix to run through the door out into her half-acre of land, and we watch her race around and chase a squirrel before the heiress continues her story. “The Hells-Angel man told me that when they found her she was so scared she slept in the corner of her kennel with her head facing away from humans. That this big girl had lived in a cage two-sizes too small for her when she wasn’t forced to fight for food. And that he didn’t believe she had ever received human affection before, so…” Victoria doesn’t speak for a while, merely fiddles with her diamonds and trains her eyes on her canine companion. With a whistle from her master, Beatrix returns obediently – and Victoria Whitney allows the dog to give her a very sloppy kiss.

“She’s a good girl,” Victoria says. “And she deserves all this and more. I believe Lucky Dog is keeping a watchful eye out for any new bull mastiffs they might find. If we’re lucky, this pretty lady will have a brother or a sister soon. After all, all this love can be spread around a bit, don’t you think?”

Victoria then gives me an extensive, minute-by-minute breakdown of Beatrix’s daily activities – beginning with something called ‘morning cuddles’ and ending with ‘night-night-cuddles’. When I ask where Beatrix sleeps, Victoria immediately replies: “With me, of course.”

The sun is setting as I finally take my leave from this decadent Tudor Mansion that is home to a woman as charming as she is complex. My last image of her as I leave are dog and owner, sitting side-by-side on a small bench near a fountain, watching the sunset together.

The day Victoria Whitney adopted Beatrix the dog

Victoria Whitney is my favorite character I’ve ever written - and although she is technically the villain in Behind the Veil, I know so many readers connected with her kooky spirit, her many “lovers”, her commitment to her own ego and her belief that laws and rules were meant to be broken if you really wanted to own a book. Victoria also had a core of tender loneliness about her, so when I was writing WILD OPEN HEARTS and pairing up these side-characters with rescue pups, I just knew that Victoria deserved some unconditional love. That love, of course, came in the form of a giant bull mastiff named Beatrix.

Chapter 60: BECK

Beatrix was finally going home.

Wes, Jem, Elián and I all came out for this adoption interview because, according to Wes, “the lady who wants Beatrix is fucking dope.”

I needed a happy story right now. It was a few days after Justine’s visit and the big donations from Luna’s foundation and her best friends. I literally ached with missing her. The only thing I could focus on—really, the smart thing to focus on—was Lucky Dog.

Jem had Beatrix on the leash. Beatrix’s big head came up to her waist. She wasn’t the snarling, terrified beast she’d been when we’d brought her in more than two months ago. But I was still wary. If Beatrix didn’t like you, she didn’t like you. And I doubted she’d like the woman standing in front of us.

“Victoria Whitney,” she said, holding out her hand like the Queen. I didn’t know if she wanted me to kiss it or shake it or what. We all just stared at it until she placed it back on her expensive-looking handbag. Victoria was a white woman in her sixties, white hair, giant diamonds in her ears. She held a black umbrella to shield her from the sun, and her nose was tilted high.

“Beck Mason,” I said. “This is my staff. I’m sorry, but did you say you’re here for Beatrix?”

A curl of her lips. “Yes, well, I’ve flown all the way from Philadelphia because my arch-nemesis, Bitzi Peterson, told me I had to get my dog from your nonprofit. I was going to go purebred, as you can imagine.”

She said this in a whisper, as if the tattooed ex-convicts standing around her were the kind of people who cared about a dog’s pedigree. “But Bitzi won’t wear anything other than the makeup from that Instagram model. What’s her name? Luna da Rosa.”

My back stiffened. “Luna?” I croaked it out like a teenager.

“Bitzi told me that if Luna da Rosa says this place is all the rage”—she sniffed around again, like she didn’t quite believe it—“then it’s all the rage. And I am nothing if not all the rage, darlings.”

Who the hell was this woman?

“Uh, okay,” I said, hands in my pockets. “What kind of dog companion are you looking for? Beatrix requires a lot of work. And love.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I have love.” She said this with a slight sadness, which piqued my interest. “And a sinful amount of money. Beatrix would live a life of luxury, I’ll tell you that.”

“Beatrix used to have to fight dogs. She was chained up every hour of the day,” I said. “Luxury is fine. Love is more important.”

Victoria turned around, eyeing Beatrix with a new appreciation. “A fighter, you say? Just like me.”

Elián smirked at me from behind Victoria. But I was watching dog and human carefully.

“Would she protect me?”

“Bullmastiffs, as a breed, are very loyal,” I said. “She’ll love you forever.”

She touched the string of pearls around her neck. “I’ve had some things stolen from me quite recently. I had hired a team of men to keep them secure.”

Victoria fixed her gaze on Jem. “I think I’ve learned my lesson about hiring men for things, right, darling?”

“Dogs are better,” Jem agreed. “No offense to my boyfriend over there.”

“None taken.” Wes beamed.

I hid a smile, watched Beatrix sniffing her way toward Victoria’s high heels.

“Is she trained?”

“She is now,” I said. “But she’ll need firm direction. Jem, can you let her off the leash?” Jem did, and Beatrix began wandering off, following her nose on some scent. Victoria snapped her fingers and said, “Halt.”

Beatrix stopped. Turned. Victoria pointed at her feet. Beatrix went.

“Sit,” Victoria said, like an empress giving orders. Beatrix sat. All four of us watched wide-eyed as Beatrix laid her giant head against Victoria’s leg, and stared up at her.

Victoria smiled. Placed a hand on top of Beatrix’s head. “She’s quite a good girl. Very pretty.”

Beatrix wasn’t pretty, but I wasn’t going to disagree.

“Would you like a collar made of diamonds?” Victoria cooed down at her. “I’ll have one made for you as soon as we return.”

“How about I take Victoria and Beatrix around for a bit?” Jem asked. “See how they do?”

I mouthed They’re a match and Jem flashed me a thumbs-up. I watched them make their way through the field, Beatrix staring at Victoria like she was the center of her universe.

“Wouldn’t have guessed that one,” I admitted.

Your weekend is booked!

A random assortment of new releases to load onto your gorgeous Kindles! Also my last read, my current read and my next read!New releases:

Talia Hibbert’s GUARDING TEMPTATION (Described as a “dirty British novella” so I’m not sure what more you need to convince you…)

LJ Evans’ MY LIFE AS AN ALBUM was just released as a box set featuring all four books and a bonus novella! (These books are southern, small-town, swoony romance!)

Lucy Score’s BY A THREAD (A grumpy boss romantic comedy - need I say more?)

Jamie Schlosser’s BETWEEN DAWN AND DUSK and THE FAE KING’S CURSE - (for PNR fans, I’ve heard these two books are amazing!)

My last read:

MISSING IN ACTION by Kate Canterbary - growly, juicy, delicious M/M with a heaping side of covert spies and strong ties to The Walsh series!

My current read:

ROAD TO FIRE by Maria Luis - Listen, I know you’re jealous because I snagged an ARC of this dark royal romance I’ve been dying for for months now. I’ll let you know how it goes…

My next read:

REBORN YESTERDAY by Tessa Bailey - Tessa is my #1 one-click author and when she decided to write PNR featuring a vampire and a funeral home director like….I might not survive it.

A very fun (very steamy) deleted scene from UNDER THE ROSE...

I thought Sam and Freya might swing by this newsletter to say thank you in person. But they are - *ahem* - making up for lost time...sexually-speaking...so let's give them an extra week, shall we? 

This allows me to say THANK YOU for this past week of love and support for Under the Rose! It's not a secret that I loved the hell out of this book. Loved writing it, loved editing it, loved the characters so much. I feel blessed that Sam and Freya chose me to tell their love story. I feel blessed that readers seem to love them just as much! The world continues to be a scary and uncertain place - and this week was no different. Amidst the chaos, readers took the time to read my book, buy it, review it, share it, message me their favorite parts...it was absolutely not expected and absolutely appreciated so much. My gratitude is as boundless as Freya's love for tacos and wizards!

To thank you, I wrote a (very dirty) deleted scene called 'What Happens in the Soundproof Study Room' - it picks up after the second-to-last chapter. This does contain HEA-spoilers, so I'd wait until you're done Under the Rose before reading. Click that button for some extra steam!

Take me to that (very dirty) deleted scene!

Wild Open Hearts is now live in audio - the Bluewater Billionaires (audio) series is complete!

Now that the complete Bluewater Billionaire series is