Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 105

Afton Locke: Thelma’s Song — Out Today!

The fifth book for Oyster Harbor series was a blast to write. It was my first time writing slightly older characters. We’re talking adult children and emotional baggage on top of the usual relationship problems. I’m happy to say the steam level didn’t go down at all. In fact, Thelma and Tom might be the hottest couple ever in Oyster Harbor!

Thelma’s Song by Afton Locke

historical romance/women’s fiction
Release Date: 19 November 20—TODAY!

 Order from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BK715P93
Other vendors: https://books2read.com/u/mY8lzW
Amazon Oyster Harbor series: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074CCLCMK

Though her bluesy voice can bring grown men to tears, Thelma Waters moves to Oyster Harbor for a peaceful life—avoiding singing and men. Anything to forget her wild youth as a performer, so addicted to fame she’d do anything to get it. When Tom Lewes—Oyster Harbor’s remaining bigot—hires her as a lounge singer to save his failing restaurant, he stirs up more than her old talent.

His obsession with profits reminds her of every man who used her, especially the one who shattered her heart. Meanwhile, his grief over his daughter’s death intensifies when restaurant renovations uncover a shocking secret. Reminding her of the child she lost so long ago.

And as soon as Oyster Harbor restores what Thelma has craved for so long, her dreams of family are ripped away, turning her song of joy to the bluest of blues. Will Tom be the answer to her prayers, or her biggest heartache yet?

Playlist

“Private Dancer” – Tina Turner

“Let’s Make a Baby” – Billy Paul

“Nightlife” – Ray Price

 

Excerpt from Thelma’s Song…

Copyright © Afton Locke, 2022

Silence hung between her and Tom, thick and greasy as a lump of lard left out in the summer heat. Frozen, she watched the flush rise up his neck and fill his face. No wonder he served a drink called Red Tide.

What would he do? Break all business ties with her? Or worse? At the moment, she didn’t care what he did. She simply needed to get away from him.

“Miss Waters, don’t ever strike me again,” he said quietly, “or there will be consequences.”

Ignoring the fine trembling working her legs, she took a step closer to him. “What does that mean? Tying me to a tree like poor Jimmy Clark?”

“I never touched a hair on his head,” he shot back.

“You were there. Cali told me everything.” Luckily, Jonathan had reformed.

“Do you want to be punished?” Tom asked. “Because it seems you’re itching for a fight.”

He was right about that. Her fingers ached to throw his sorry ass into the washing machine then iron his face. No need to add starch because he already had plenty.

Instead, she burst into tears. Couldn’t stop. When it came to Letty, she had no strength.

“Easy. Easy,” he muttered, patting her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, for Christ’s sake.”

“Watch your language,” she said between sniffles. “You’re nothing but a heartless heathen. You know that?”

“You’re probably right.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Letty may mean nothing to you, but today….” Her voice broke. “Today is her eighteenth birthday. Or would have been, if she’s not drawing breath anymore.”

“I didn’t know.”

She turned her head to look at him. The arrogant smirk was gone. His eyes, contrite. The skin below them, puffy.

He stiffened and dropped his hands when she traced a soft fingertip under his lower eyelids. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’ve been crying too,” she whispered.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, turning his face aside.

“I’ve done it enough to know what it looks like. Did my singing do that to you?”

“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “The one song really— Well, it shook me up, kind of.”

Her legs stopped trembling. She even smiled. “That’s what the blues are supposed to do.”

“I’ve probably been working too hard lately,” he said, giving his shoulders a good shake.

Their gazes met and held. She struggled to look away but failed. Truth was, it felt good to get angry for a change. The sadness wore at her every day. Like sandpaper.

This man knew her sadness. Breathed its same stench. Endured the same tentacles squeezing his heart. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Now, her legs simply felt weak. Her entire body did. The performance, topped off by their fiery argument, had taken every bit of her strength. She rested her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his chest.

His tall, solid frame felt so good. His heart thrumming against her ear, music. It had been so long since she’d been with a man.

A strong finger pressed her jaw and tilted her face up. It was the last thing she recalled before drowning in a tidal wave of hot, deep kissing. Beard stubble—black as his hair—brushed across her cheek. Ground against her neck, along with his open mouth.

Tasting. Sucking. Claiming. Until every nerve ending in her body shrieked with ecstasy.

She drew back, giving her pounding heart a rest before it exploded. “I-I thought we weren’t going to kiss anymore.”

“I guess we changed our minds,” he murmured against her ear.

About Afton Locke

Afton Locke is a USA Today Bestselling Author who writes outside the box. Her trips always inspire her, sometimes years after they’re over. She lives with her husband, usually surrounded by animals, both wild and domestic. When she’s not writing, Afton enjoys hiking, cooking, reading, and watching retro TV.

Where readers can find Afton…
Newsletter: http://www.aftonlocke.com/mailing-list.html
Web site: http://www.aftonlocke.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AftonLockeAuthor
Twitter: http://twitter.com/aftonlocke
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Afton_Locke
YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/user/aftonlocke
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/aftonlocke/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aftonlocke/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/afton-locke

The post Afton Locke: Thelma’s Song — Out Today! first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Early Turkey Love (Puzzle-Contest)

I’ll have a guest on my blog tomorrow, so I’m sharing a puzzle early. And since it’s the last jigsaw before Thanksgiving, I thought I’d go with a turkey theme.

Enjoy the puzzle. For a chance to win a download of your choice from my backlist, let me know whether you’ll be celebrating the holiday, and if you are, who with?

The post Early Turkey Love (Puzzle-Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Word Search: Things to do with kids during the holidays… (Contest)

The holiday is approaching! It’s not just The Day I’m thinking about. The kids will be out of school next week, and we have to think about how to fill that time with memories.

We’ve got a few plans. A family bonfire is always fun. Movie nights, too. But how else will we fill all that time? I started a list.

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then add some things to the list of things to do! And tell me, did you enjoy the puzzle?

The post Word Search: Things to do with kids during the holidays… (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Michal Scott: The Dream and the Hope of the Slave: Mary Eliza Mahoney 1845-1926 (Contest)

“I am the dream and the hope of the slave.”

When I read this line penned in Maya Angelou’s poem, “And Still I Rise,” the inspirational example of a woman like Mary Eliza Mahoney comes to my mind.

Mary was born in the spring of 1845 in Boston Massachusetts to former slaves. They had moved to Boston from North Carolina in search of a better life for themselves and their children.

At age ten, Mary attended the Phillips School, one of the first integrated schools in Boston. By eighteen, she knew she wanted to be a nurse and began working at the New England Hospital for Women and Children. For fifteen years, she acted as janitor, cook, washerwoman, and finally as a nurse’s aide, where she got hands-on experience with the nursing profession. In 1878, at the age of thirty-three, Mary’s diligence and work ethic gained her admittance to the hospital’s professional graduate school for nursing, despite not meeting the age range criteria of being twenty-one to thirty-one. The program, which ran for sixteen months, offered lectures and first-hand experience in the hospital. Of the forty-two students that entered the program in 1878, Mary was one of four to graduate in 1879, making her the first African American in the US to earn a professional nursing license. Due to racial discrimination in the public sphere, Mary worked as a private care nurse, mostly, but not solely, for white wealthy families.

Because the nursing associations she was active in were not always welcoming to blacks, she co-founded the National Association of Colored Graduate Nurses in 1908. The mission of the NACGN was to improve educational access for black women to nursing practices, raise their living standards, and change the poor perception society had of them. It existed until 1951 when it merged with the American Nurses Association.

In 1911, Mary became the director of the Howard Orphanage Asylum for black children in Kings Park, Long Island and served until 1912.

After forty years, she finally retired from nursing but not from advocacy. When the 19th Amendment was ratified in August 1920, Mahoney was among the first women who registered to vote in Boston.

Mary lived until she was eighty and died of breast cancer on January 4, 1926. Ten years later her achievements were honored by having an award named after her to recognize individual nurses or groups of nurses who promote integration in the nursing field. One of those honorees campaigned to have a monument erected in her honor. In 1973, the monument was dedicated at her gravesite. In 1993, Mary was inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame in Seneca Falls, New York.

Many African-Americans, male and female—myself included—are the embodiments of the dreams and hopes of their enslaved ancestors. I’m glad to have learned of the dream and the hope that was Mary Eliza Mahoney.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts on Mary’s story or on anyone you can think of who paved the way for others. 

One Breath Away

Sentenced to hand for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. Never having been courted, cuddled or spooned, Mary now fears any kind of physical intimacy when arousal forces her to relive the asphyxiation of her hanging. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.

Wealthy freeborn-Black Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing a relationship with Mary was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.

Then just as Eban begins to win Mary’s trust, an enemy from the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…

Excerpt…

He shouldn’t have agreed to the marriage stipulation, but Judah wouldn’t return the land to a bachelor. At the time marrying hadn’t entered Eban’s mind. Without Nora, he had no desire to leave a legacy anyway. And after sampling women of many races, Eban accepted he’d never marry. Then the stars changed his mind.

He glanced at them now. They shimmered as they had the night of that fateful watch. According to the first mate who swore by astrology, he’d perceived a special celestial alignment for Eban. The stars foretold a coupling resulting from a rescue in which Eban would meet his wife. Having found Mary, Eban knew that prophecy would be fulfilled.

“How could ya have believed ya heritage held no worth for ya without Nora?”

Eban blenched, though he shouldn’t have been surprised his aunt knew where his thoughts had gone and had headed him off at the pass.

He clucked his teeth. “To tell the truth—”

His aunt snorted. “That’d be a nice change.”

Eban frowned, but ignored the barb and continued. “I came home, not to reclaim Heart’s Ease, but to assuage my curiosity. Secretly I’d hoped to find Nora as miserable as I was. Then I met Mary.” Mary. He chuckled. “After meeting her, I see how short-sighted—how Esau-like—I’ve been.”

He glanced up again. “She’ll marry me, Clem. It’s written right there in the sky, and the stars don’t lie.”

Buylink: https://amzn.to/2u5XQY

The post Michal Scott: The Dream and the Hope of the Slave: Mary Eliza Mahoney 1845-1926 (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Flashback: Cochise (Contest–3 Winners!)

I love my Montana Bounty Hunters. I’ve said it before, but I try hard to make each of them individual rather than cookie-cutter characters with different names. I also love to dream up unique takedowns for your reading pleasure and to showcase who these men are. One of the sexiest characters I’ve written is Cochise.

Cochise

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

Former Army sniper, Cochise Mercier, left Denver SWAT under a cloud of controversy, which was why he ended up back home in Montana, and where he heard about the Montana Bounty Hunters. The “cloud” didn’t seem to bother his new boss, so he’s “all in” and finding he enjoys hunting down fugitives for bounties, encumbered by fewer rules.

Sammy McCallister is a by-the-book sheriff’s deputy, who has a beef with bounty hunters. Forced to stand by with her gun in her holster, while hunters take down scumbags, she’s particularly irked by the new guy in town. Cochise, with his long black hair and thousand-yard-stare, makes her uncomfortable, itchy in ways she’s never felt before. When she finds herself needing his help late one night, the reason for her irritation becomes all too clear. She wants him. But first, they have to make it out of the mountains alive…

Contest

Are you all caught up reading the original Montana Bounty Hunters series?

For a chance to win a download of one of the stories you may have missed
(I’ll pick three winners!), tell me this:
What profession other than bounty hunters would you like to see in my Montana Bounty Hunters—Dead Horse branch, and beyond— stories ?

Here are all the Bear Lodge Montana Bounty Hunters! Yes, it’s an old meme and Brian’s been out a while, but do you really care?

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Bear Lodge, MT
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…
Reaper: https://amzn.to/2NztLpv
Dagger: https://amzn.to/2zo6Dav
Reaper’s Ride: https://amzn.to/2KKkisI
Cochise: https://amzn.to/2zq4avV
Hook: https://amzn.to/2UrpyYh
Wolf: https://amzn.to/2yUTjr5
Animal: https://amzn.to/2H4Roob
Big Sky Wedding: https://amzn.to/33GprwK
Quincy: https://amzn.to/2QlleM8
Brian: https://amzn.to/2ZV8m2G

Excerpt from Cochise:

Cochise Mercier, the new hire at Montana Bounty Hunters, took a deep breath to force his heart to slow its pace. A trick he’d learned as an Army sniper to make sure a jerking breath didn’t mess up a shot. The trick worked in most situations when he needed his mind to slow and for his focus to home in on a target or a situation. Clearing his mind meant he was able to take in more of what was happening around him and enabled him to discard the things that weren’t important—like the way the wind beat a tree branch against the side of the house, a steady thump that sounded almost like clomping footsteps. Instead, he concentrated on the way the light, beaming through the tall arched windows at the front of the house, flickered whenever his target paced left or right, telling him where their mark was. An important fact, because in minutes, he’d have to breach the oak front door and be ready to take him down—with his weapon or his body, depending on whether Randy Pinter was armed. A fact Cochise would have to ascertain in a split second.

“Can’t see any movement in the back rooms,” came Jamie Burke’s voice through his earpiece. “I think he’s alone.”

He still wasn’t used to hearing a woman’s voice on the comms. He’d never had a female as part of any of his missions on the ground with the Army, and Denver’s SWAT had, at the time, been all male. That voice interrupted his calm. His instinct was to protect women and children, but she was a part of this team—and his boss—so again, he drew a deep breath, pushed aside his concern, and concentrated on his target. Pinter was pacing in front of the window to the right of the front door.

“Girlfriend’s car isn’t in the garage,” came Sky Reynold’s deep voice. “Must have gone for takeout. I’m moving around to the front.”

“Deputies just arrived,” Lacey Jones’s too perky voice sounded. “I’ll go brief them about what’s about to go down. Make sure they know we have the owner’s permission to be here.”

Cochise could hear the excitement in her higher pitch. Thank God, she was back at the road with the vehicles. The thought of her cotton-candy sweetness being anywhere near Pinter made him shudder. The girl might have qualified with her weapon and might be doing well with her self-defense classes, but she had no real experience going head-on with bad dudes. He didn’t want to be around the first time she was truly tested.

“You call it, Cochise,” Jamie said.

With his heart as slow as when he slept, he felt the familiar ice-water chill flow over him. “Ready,” he whispered and then stepped away from the bushes beside the porch. “Moving toward the door… On three. One…two…three.”

He pounded three times on the door. “Federal Recovery Agent! Get down on the floor!”

Then, just as they’d rehearsed, Sky popped up, used a short cudgel to break the right front window, and tossed a flashbang grenade through the opening he’d made.

Cochise turned his back and crouched beside the door. A split second later, he heard the explosion and a muffled shout. He stood and swung the battering ram against the thick front door. The frame around the door splintered. He tossed the ram and kicked the thick oak, waiting as it slammed forward against dark wood flooring. Then pulling his weapon from its holster, he stepped onto the door into the foyer.

Inside, he saw no sign of Pinter. “Not in foyer. Moving to living room.”

“I’m coming your way,” Jamie said, and then a moment later, “Mudroom, clear. I’ll check the garage.”

Sky stepped to the right. “I’ll take the kitchen.”

Cochise headed through the living room. “Living room clear.” Then he moved toward the room farther to the left—a study he’d peered inside earlier. He shoved open the door, stepped to the side, then quickly darted through the opening, bending low as he entered. He glanced behind a sofa, opened the closet. “Clear.”

“Clear in the kitchen,” said Sky. “Moving toward the stairs.”

Cochise cleared the downstairs bathroom, another hallway closet, and then ran up the stairs. Just as he reached the darkened landing, he saw Sky back out of a bedroom and shake his head.

Cochise signaled that he’d head right toward what he suspected was the master bedroom, while Sky took a smaller bedroom at the other end of the hallway. Cochise unclipped his Maglite from his web belt and shone it down the darkened hallway.

“Garage clear,” Jamie said.

“Make sure the bastard didn’t circle around to the backyard.” Lacey and Dagger had the road and yard fence line covered, and both were quiet.

Just as he reached out to turn the door handle for the master bedroom, Sky whispered, “Clear.” Cochise tensed. Last possible place.

Pinter must have shot up the steps the second the window was broken. Slippery bastard. Something they’d learned talking to the cops who’d arrested him for a home invasion. The fact the judge had awarded him bail after he’d led the police on a three-mile foot race through backyards, over fences, and through busy intersections, where he’d nearly lost the cops, had the entire team shaking their heads. The $500,000 bail must have seemed an impossible goal for a two-time loser, but the prosecutor hadn’t looked closely enough at the family to raise an argument. They hadn’t known the grandfather doted on the prick. He’d willingly used his ranch to secure the bond.

Why Pinter had chosen a life of crime was beyond Cochise. He came from money, dated money, and now, he was facing decades in jail after beating up a couple he’d robbed at gunpoint for a measly sixty dollars and a wedding ring.

Sky came up beside him, a shotgun loaded with beanbag rounds raised, with the stock against his shoulder, and cupping a flashlight against the barrel. He gave Cochise a nod.

Cochise quietly turned the knob then shoved it open. Sky preceded him through the door, turning his body to the left then the right.

Cochise went to the bed and flipped the mattress off the frame. Nobody huddled under it. He quietly slid open the nightstand drawer, the place where Mr. Anderson said he kept a handgun. Shining the light inside the drawer, Cochise noted it was empty, except for a bag of cough drops and loose change. Catching Sky’s glance, he shook his head.

He moved to the bathroom door while Sky sped to the walk-in closet.

As he turned the handle, he heard the scuff of a foot and froze. Withdrawing his hand, he signaled to Sky, who quickly edged to the opposite side of the door.

Pinter had plenty of warning they were there. He had no place left to hide. Likely had the gun. Cochise’s best route would be to get him to surrender.

“Randy,” Cochise called out, “you’re not getting out of this house. We’re bounty hunters, and we’ve been tracking you for days. A whole goddamn team to take down your sorry ass. We have deputies in the road out front in case you decide to be stupid. You’re not going to be stupid, are you?”

Sky moved a step backward. “We think we have him cornered in the upstairs bathroom,” he whispered to the team. “Get eyes on the side of the house beneath the window.”

“Already there,” Dagger said.

Sky moved closer.

“Buddy,” Cochise said, keeping an even tone. “Your best move is to come out with your hands up where we can see them.”

Ten seconds passed. Not a sound came from behind the closed door.

Again, Cochise reached out and gripped the knob. It was locked. Stepping in front of the door, he raised a foot.

But he heard a click and pitched to the side. An explosion ripped through the door.

On his back on the floor, Cochise stared at a circle with splintered edges right where he’d been standing a second earlier. He rolled to his feet, his weapon aimed at the hole.

“What the fuck?” Jamie shouted in his ear. “Coming up the stairs.”

“Deputies are running for the house,” Lacey said sounding breathless, like she was running, too.

In the distance, he heard several sets of footsteps stomping quickly up the stairs. No way was he letting the women anywhere near this vicious pig. He aimed at the door. “Better get on the ground, Pinter.” Then he fired two shots, just to make sure the dirtbag was taking cover, and kicked in the door.

Inside the room, he made out the glint of metal coming from around the side of the shower stall. He ducked into the stall as a shot was fired. Then he darted out again, reaching out his left hand as the handgun appeared around the corner. With his back to Pinter, he gripped the weapon, shoving it, and the hand that held it, to the side. A bullet hit the toilet, shattering porcelain. Water spilled out onto the floor.

A punch landed against his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs, but Cochise didn’t let go of the gun, he spun and shoved the hand holding the gun against the edge of the stall.

The gun clattered away.

More punches hit his sides—much good that did, because his Kevlar vest took the blows—but Cochise couldn’t end this while all he held was Pinter’s hand. He jerked Pinter forward then backed him into the shower stall, crushing him against the tile with his body, unable to turn because he still held his own weapon outstretched. With his elbow, he beat backwards, catching Pinter in his sides.

Searing pain in the corner of his shoulder sucked away what was left of his breath. “Motherfucker, did you bite me?”

He beat back his elbow and aimed a backward kick at a knee.

The lights to the bathroom flashed on.

Sky filled the doorway, his glance taking in the gun on the floor. He moved forward and reached out. Gladly, Cochise gave him his weapon, and then turned and pummeled Pinter, clipping him in the jaw, the ribs, then giving him another punch to the jaw.

As Randy Pinter sagged toward the gray stone floor of the shower, Cochise kept his fists balled. But Pinter’s eyelids lowered, and his jaw relaxed.

A clap against his shoulder made him wince. “Think we have him,” Sky said.

Cochise lowered his eyebrows. “We?”

Sky grinned. “Hey, I freed your hand.”

“Fucker.”

“Tell me that wasn’t satisfying.”

Cochise grunted.

Just then, Jamie rounded the corner, two deputies crowding in behind her. One tall, burly male and a female with scraped-back, blondish hair and angry eyes.

Suddenly, the spacious bathroom was too crowded.

“Do we have to call an ambulance?” Jamie asked.

Sky leaned over Pinter and ran his hands over his body, doing a quick search for weapons. When he straightened, he aimed a kick at his hip.

Pinter stirred and moaned.

“Nope, he’s conscious,” Sky said, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Jail’s just fifteen minutes away. They can take him to the ER to be checked out.”

Cochise bent and rested his hands on his knees, dragging in deep breaths to clear his head of the anger still pounding through him.

Jamie came up beside him and plucked at the neck of his tee. “Too bad he didn’t get a mouthful of Kevlar. That has to hurt. Buddy, you might need stiches. Sky and I will make sure this one gets to jail, and that they know to test Pinter for any nasty diseases. Your vehicle’s still back at the office; I can have Lacey take you to the ER.”

Cochise straightened, inwardly cursing the fact his truck was back at the agency parking lot. He’d ridden with Sky and Jamie on the way over.

“I’d love to,” Lacey said, her blonde head peering around the corner, “but I can’t wait on you. Dagger and I have to drive to Whitefish to meet up with Reaper. He texted that he may have found Wallace’s hideout.” She gave a hundred-watt smile. “We’re riding into the mountains on horseback.”

Jamie groaned. “Good Lord. Last time Reaper was on horseback, he nearly drowned in a stock pond.”

“You can drop me at my truck. I can get myself to the ER,” Cochise said, and warmed to the idea. Anything to avoid listening to Dagger give Bounty Hunter Barbie another long lesson about how not to get killed doing her job. “You two need to get on the road, or you won’t get any rest.”

A throat cleared to his right. The female deputy’s frown was fierce, but she lifted her chin. “I can drop you, but I won’t wait around.”

He nodded. From her expression, she was about as thrilled with the idea as he was. She’d dump him at the entrance, and he’d be on his own. The way he liked it. “Suits me fine. And I appreciate it.”

Open ContestsWord Search: Things I love about Thanksgiving! (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!Genevive Chamblee: Memory Keeping (Contest & Giveaway) — Win a stationary mystery gift!Saturday Puzzle Contest + Open Contests! — Win an Amazon gift card!Diana Cosby: Nature’s Beauty at Fall! (Contest) — Win a signed book!Another “Books Need Bookmarks” Contest! (Three Winners) — Win a hand-painted bookmark!The post Flashback: Cochise (Contest–3 Winners!) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Another “Books Need Bookmarks” Contest! (Three Winners)

I’ve been painting so many bookmarks that I need to find homes for them! I know some of you mostly read eBooks, but maybe you have an old recipe book lying around you can use this in.

Anyways, this is such an easy giveaway, and I’m feeling lazy. All I need is an envelope and a stamp, and it’s gone!

Three bo okmarks, three winners!
All you have to do is tell me what you’re reading. I’ll use a random number generator to choose the winners.

The post Another “Books Need Bookmarks” Contest! (Three Winners) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Diana Cosby: Nature’s Beauty at Fall! (Contest)

©Diana Cosby 2022

Fall is my favorite season.  The leaves turn to gorgeous red, orange and yellow.  The air grows crisp with the hint of the fading summer during the day, and the cool promise of winter at night.

At the marsh, the Great Blue Heron and other water birds move through the brown reeds in search of food as Canada Geese fly south for the winter.

Along the shoreline, the cries of gulls pierce the air as they glide overhead against the backdrop of the crashing waves.

With colorful leaves gliding to the ground in carefree swirls, squirrels are gathering acorns, carrying them to their nests or burying them before winter arrives.

Peering up from the forest floor, the last few flowers spear through the brown blanket of leaves like nature’s fireworks.

Though busy preparing for the winter, against the fleeting warmth of the day, this fox curls up to enjoy a well-deserved nap.  Winter will be here soon, but for now, it’s time to enjoy nature’s beauty at fall.

Contest

***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest blog post about, ‘Nature’s Beauty at Fall!’ on Delilah’s blog between 13 November 2022 – 20 November 2022 and will win a signed copy of His Woman.”

About Diana Cosby

A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series have been translated into five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.

After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers series and The Oath Trilogy, she released the bestselling The Forbidden Series.

Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

God bless,

Diana Cosby, International Best-Selling Author
www.dianacosby.com
The Oath Trilogy
MacGruder Brother Series
The Forbidden Series

Social Media
Website:  https://www.dianacosby.com/
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/978803.Diana_Cosby
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Diana-Cosby/e/B003YJ1MR4/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1417447922&sr=8-1
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Diana-Cosby-Romance-Author-150109024636/?ref=ts

The post Diana Cosby: Nature’s Beauty at Fall! (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Saturday Puzzle Contest + Open Contests!

It’s Saturday! I chose today’s image at random and thought it would make a good conversation starter.

It’s not something I’ve ever done, although I almost did when I was in ROTC. They decided they couldn’t waste a slot on a girl… Huh.

Anyways, solve the puzzle. Then let me know if you’ve ever or would ever do this. Or perhaps tell us about some other risky thing you’ve done for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

Open Contests

Enter these contests while there’s still time!

Storm’s coming… (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!Saturday Puzzle Contest! — Win an Amazon gift card!Word Search: Things I love about Thanksgiving! (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!Genevive Chamblee: Memory Keeping (Contest & Giveaway) — Win a mystery stationary gift!The post Saturday Puzzle Contest + Open Contests! first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Thank you, Veterans!

This is just a shout-out to fellow veterans to thank you for your service. They include my sister, Elle James (Air Force/Army), my brother Steve (Air Force), and my father (Air Force), who’s no longer with us. I was Army all the way.

The post Thank you, Veterans! first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Genevive Chamblee: Memory Keeping (Contest & Giveaway)

For many, November marks the beginning of the holiday season… for better or for worse. I believe most people would agree that the holidays are very polarizing. For a great number of people, it is a time of joy. They tend to get into a tizzy grocery shopping, cooking, decorating, and whipping up holiday delights in the kitchen (or at the bar). This time of year is often one of reflection, being thankful for our many blessings, and extending kindness and generosity to those less fortunate.

For others, the holidays may be a struggle emotionally, financially, or both. It is a time of great sadness and anxiety. Although they outwardly may put on a stoic smile and brave front, they may be fighting many internal demons and turmoil. Sometimes, their distress is a result of not having the financial means to provide gifts for their families and loved ones. Seeing the commercialization of the holidays is hard to ignore. Not having the basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter may be accentuated with media images of people who have an abundance of these things. It may be difficult to see blessings when one has so little. Still, for others, their depression may stem from loneliness—not having family or friends to spend time together.

The Bible verse Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 (which was popularized in The Byrds’ 1965 song Turn! Turn! Turn!) states, “To everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” The holidays should be a season of joy, but for the ones who it is a season of misery, it should be an objective for others to bring some type of peace or, at least, make the attempt.

What does any of this have to do with memory keeping? Regardless of what the holiday brings, many people are so caught up in the moment and rushing that they fail to give it the proper attention that stores it as a memory. Think back. How many Thanksgivings and Christmases (Hanukkahs, Kwanzaas, etc.) do you remember? Who was present at each? What gifts did you receive and give? What did you eat? What did the decorations look like? When pondering these questions, many people will have some answers but not all. Some people will recall more memories, and some memories may be more vivid than others. When holidays become a struggle, may be difficult to remember a time when they weren’t. Memory keeping during the holidays is a way to preserve the good season and a reason to search for any good in seasons not so joyous.

So, what are some ways to memory keep?

Photos/videos. This is likely the most obvious and is self-explanatory.Scrapbooking. Again, this is self-explanatory.Journaling. This is a very inexpensive and effective way to keep holiday document holiday memories.Keepsakes. There is no minimum or maximum number of keepsakes that one may elect to collect. And the best feature about keepsakes is that they could be anything. A friend kept the label from a bottle of wine that was used to make a toast. Another friend made a blanket from the matching Christmas pajamas she and her family had worn throughout the years. Another friend has an album of received holiday cards.Time capsules. Before packing everything away to store for another year, take an item that holds a special memory from each year and store them together. A common item would be a Christmas ornament, but it doesn’t have to be. When her youngest child turned eighteen, a coworker decided that she was done decorating for Christmas. She donated her tree and all the ornaments. Thus, having ornaments in a time capsule for her wouldn’t serve much of a purpose.Music playlist. Create a playlist of songs that will remind you of the Christmas cheer.This one is dear to my heart. Each Christmas, my father used to bake “fruit cakes” from scratch for family members. I use the term “fruit cake” loosely because many of them didn’t contain any fruit and the ones that did were nothing like those horrid things sold in the grocery stores. Without getting into an extended explanation, these cakes were a great delight to family members and brought about many laughs (e.g., cake stealing/ cake wars). Each cake was different—the ingredients depended on the receiver. Once he passed away, this tradition ended. The first Christmas without him, I made a few cakes following his top-secret recipe. (One year, he’d suffered a broken leg from a freak accident and couldn’t stand for long periods of time. As a result, he drafted his youngest—me—to help him make the cakes. And that is how the recipe was passed to me.) However, without him, it wasn’t the same, and the cakes didn’t bring about the joy that they once had. Yet, I missed this tradition. Some years later, my daughter who was a Harry Potter fan wanted to have butter beer on Christmas Eve while we snuggled and watched holiday movies. Well… when I tell you I managed to concoct one of the nastiest “potions” ever tasted, it’s not an understatement. I don’t know what went wrong. The next year, I attempted to redeem myself with a different butter beer recipe and managed to somehow render something even fouler. It’s now become a tradition of trying new recipes each year—not just for butter beer but for cookies, candies, punches, and pies. We write them on the front of recipe cards. On the back, we write our opinion and give it a rating. Now, we could easily store these on a computer, but we elect to handwrite them because one day we each will pass away. The ones left behind will have that handwritten memory.

That does it. What did you think? What is your take on the subject? Do you agree or disagree? Did you find this information helpful or informative? Did you learn anything new, or did it change your opinion? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section. Also, let me know if you would like me to cover more of these types of topics or dive deeper into this one. If you like this post, please click the like button and share it. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. If you’re not following me on the Creole Bayou blog, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

Get ready. It’s almost time to hit the ice again. Future Goals Coming soon.

Future Goals

When a college hockey player needs the help of an attractive older attorney, he gets more than he bargained for when trying to sort out the troubles in his career. Falling in love was never part of either man’s plan, especially as Corrigan’s and Sacha’s lives should never have collided. Now they’re left questioning if they’re standing in the way of the other’s future goals, or if there’s room for redirection.

Preorder your copy at:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3RjPYb9
Other booksellers: https://bit.ly/3CI8d5W

Missed the first four books in my hockey romance series? No frets.

Out of the Penalty Box (book #1), where it is one minute in the box or a lifetime out, is available at http://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. For more links on where to purchase or to read the blurb, please visit http://bit.ly/2i9SqpH.

Defending the Net (book #2) can be ordered at https://amzn.to/2N7fj8q or www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Ice Gladiators (book #3) is the third book in my Locker Room Love series. When the gloves come off, the games begin. Available at https://amzn.to/2TGFsyD or www.books2read.com/icegladiators.

Penalty Kill (book #4) takes the ice again. Get a copy at https://amzn.to/3ex0N9p or https://amzn.to/3ex0N9p and let the pucker begin.

***CONTEST & GIVEAWAY***

Would you like a FREE mystery stationary gift? It’s simple. Leave a comment telling me what how you plan to memory keep this holiday season or your favorite holiday memory. It’s that easy. A winner will be selected at random. Contest will remain open until 11/25/22 at 12:00 AM CST.

For more of my stories, shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou.

If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search for me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors or BookBub or TikTok.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and updates about my writing projects, giveaways, contests, and reveals first? Click https://genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com/newsletter/ and signup today.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

The post Genevive Chamblee: Memory Keeping (Contest & Giveaway) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.