Sarah Ballance's Blog, page 50

$10 Amazon or B&N #giftcard #giveaway

Did You Know?

Every week I give away a $10 gift card to either Amazon or Barnes & Noble, winner’s choice, and there is only ONE way to enter: subscribe by email. Easy, right? But it gets BETTER! Once you subscribe, you are automatically entered every single week for as long as you remain an email subscriber. To enter, sign up using the subscription box at the top of the left hand sidebar. One entry today means one chance to win EVERY WEEK! That’s all there is to it–no, really, it’s that easy–but if you want the fine print, please click here.

Current Giveaways

Enter to win a $10 gift card to Amazon or B&N – click here (Nov 15-25)

Other Benefits for Subscribers

I offer a LOT of giveaways, and by subscribing you’ll be among the first to know about each and every one. I also keep almost all of my giveaways open to international addresses, and this does include paperbacks.

Drumroll please …

This Week’s Winner

Congratulations to skol818, random.org’s choice for the 11/16 prize. Winners are announced here each week (most often on Saturday) and contacted via their winning email address, so keep an eye on my blog AND your email to claim your gift card.

11.18.2012 #SixSunday with Last Call

       Coming soon to FTMP!

We’re still in Nick’s POV. The man he references is from an earlier scene where Nick watched Rhys sleep. She opened her eyes and reached for Nick … then murmured another man’s name. Here, Nick is trying to talk himself out of his feelings for her.

They had now, and whatever it was they were caught in, but he didn’t have a white picket fence in him. He’d proven that when he walked away—not just in spite of loving her, but because of it. 

No need to tatter that wound.

And there was still the little matter of her pal Corey. Just the thought of her with another man heated Nick’s blood to a caveman-inspired boil. Leaving Rhys’s past where it belonged would be a lot easier if she wasn’t whispering names in her sleep.

LAST CALL is now on GoodReads! Click here to add it to your TBR list.

Enjoy your Sunday six sentences at a time!  To see other participating authors, click here.

Warm up with Milly Taiden, “Mr. Buff,” and an Amazon GC (G!veaway)

Today we welcome Milly Taiden, also known as April Angel, who is here to tell us about Mr. Buff. (How’s that for a round of introductions? *grin*) And the news gets hotter, because one lucky reader will have the chance to cool off with a $5 gift card to Amazon. More on that later … for now, let’s say hello to our guest!

Welcome, Milly! I swear, woman, you’re giving off heat! What draws you to write mega-hot erotic romance?

LOL. Well I’ve loved romance since I was little. My mom used to buy the Harlequin books and let me read them (the tame ones) and I loved how there was always a happy ending. I guess I’m a romantic. But as I got older I wanted more. So I started writing my own sex scenes as I wanted. It was quite a transition for me since I had a hard time even saying the words at first, much less write them. I swear my face turned red every time I had to do it. But eventually I got over it. Now I love love love writing sizzling romances with super-hot men and the women that they give their hearts to.

Ah, you give me hope. I’m in the “I can’t write that word” phase, LOL. (Love reading it, though!) Your latest release is MR. BUFF. Will you introduce our readers to the story?

Every morning, Alexandra drinks in the sexy vision of Mr. Buff through his office window across the street. He takes his workouts seriously, and Alexandra never misses the opportunity to see him return, sweaty and pumped, to his office suite to shower. Turns out Andrew enjoys the view just as much as she does and can’t take his eyes off the woman who makes his blood roar.

But when Alexandra bumps into Mr. Buff at a club, things go from visual to physical. And much to her delight, she learns that Mr. Buff is really Mr. Dominant. She loves spending time with him and getting to know him the way nature intended, but she’s looking for more than a fling. How’s she supposed to make Mr. Buff realize he’s Mr. Right?

Sounds delicious, and I love the play on words! What might readers be surprised to learn about the plot or characters of Mr. Buff?

Well I like this story because even though both are successful people in their professional lives, it’s their personal insecurities I focused on. Alex is normally an outgoing woman who knows what she wants, but a bad breakup makes her a little insecure in her choices. Andrew knows what he’s looking for, but he has a hard time voicing his feelings. It becomes interesting to see both have to face their fears if they want to remain together.

I love how you offer readers a look at both sides of these characters. ;c) Let’s have some fun with Mr. Buff. What’s the first sentence?

“So? What’s he doing? Come on, come on. Stop holding out already.”

Yep, I’d keep reading. LOL. What’s your favorite line in the book?

LOL well… I have a few favorite lines in this book. I love the sexual tension. Like the one below.

Smooth and deep with a rough, sexy timber, his voice enhanced the arousal that swelled within her. 

Oh, yummy! How about an excerpt … three sentences long! Yep, that’s it. Three!

A dangerous, giddy thrill raced up her spine. He brought his face down to within inches of hers. She had to tilt her head back, thrusting her breasts out, to look him in the eye.

I love how she takes advantage of that posture, LOL! Which scene of Mr. Buff was most difficult for you to write? Why?

I think the climax. When she lets her insecurities get the best of her and he needs to open his mouth if he wants to keep her. I think speaking out about feelings can be difficult to put into words and describe properly.

I love how he had to speak up — seems it’s extra hard for men sometimes. Which scene would you most like to experience for yourself? From whose POV?

Hehehe. Probably the club scene. It was just so HOT! And definitely from her POV. Andrew is just…HOT.

*fans self* Oh, you TEASE! What inspired the title of Mr. Buff?

LOL. Believe it or not, I was chatting w/ my BFF (also an author – Mina Carter) and I kept referring to the guy as Mr. Buff. So I said I needed a title and she said to keep it as that. LOL. It was easy to do. And the story does revolve around his being Mr. Buff.

Ha! Perfect from the start. What are you currently working on? 

I have a release November 2nd under my Milly Taiden pen called Fate’s Wish. Every exciting. My next one as April Angel will be in January called Stranded Temptation.

Mr. Buff

Every morning, Alexandra drinks in the sexy vision of Mr. Buff through his office window across the street. He takes his workouts seriously, and Alexandra never misses the opportunity to see him return, sweaty and pumped, to his office suite to shower. Turns out Andrew enjoys the view just as much as she does and can’t take his eyes off the woman who makes his blood roar.

But when Alexandra bumps into Mr. Buff at a club, things go from visual to physical. And much to her delight, she learns that Mr. Buff is really Mr. Dominant. She loves spending time with him and getting to know him the way nature intended, but she’s looking for more than a fling. How’s she supposed to make Mr. Buff realize he’s Mr. Right?

Find it @ Amazon | ARe | B&N

Milly Taiden

Want to know about me? Milly Taiden (aka April Angel) was born in the prettiest part of the Caribbean known as the Dominican Republic. She grew up between New York, Florida and Massachusetts. Currently, she resides in New York City with her husband, bossy young son and their little dog Speedy.

She’s addicted to shopping for shoes, chocolate (but who isn’t?) and Dunkin Donuts coffee.

A bookworm when she can get her hands on a good story, she loves reading all Mina Carter, Cynthia Eden, Laurann Dohner and Dianne Duvall among others.

Stalk @ Website | Blog | FB Author Page | Amazon Author Page | Twitter

Giveaway

If you’d like a chance to win a $5 Amazon GC, please comment with your email address and an answer to the following question: What is your favorite romantic movie? Can’t wait to see all your answers! Milly, thanks so much for being here today. Readers, I hope you’ll give her a warm welcome. Thank you all for hanging out, and have a fantastic weekend!

 

Morrigan: Young Adult Fantasy from Laura DeLuca

Morrigan

Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan doesn’t know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future. Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true identity.

Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked with guiding the heir of Tír Na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother, their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an ancient evil.

Find MORRIGAN @ Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

Excerpt

“Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”

“Stop it! Sit down!” Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to avoid any further confrontations.

The cats took a seat on either side her legs, but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer, even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.

“Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his feet. “I hate Guardians.”

“They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the big deal?”

“Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance, even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”

Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.”

“They most certainly are coming!”

Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your Highness. They would only get in the way. Possibly even get killed.”

Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again, as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. “If they stay here alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”

Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your mongrel felines. Just keep in mind that Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”

“Lycans?” Morrigan repeated. A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach, as the truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her dreams.

“Why yes, Your Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”

Find MORRIGAN @ Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

Laura DeLuca

Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years.

Laura is the author of four young adult novels including: Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, and Morrigan and has many other works in progress.

Stalk Laura @ Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Gratitude G!veaways Blog Hop Nov. 15th-25th (Easy Entry $10 GC INT)

‘Tis the season to be thankful, and to let you all know how very grateful I am for your readership I’m offering a $10 gift card up for one lucky entry. But first I’d like to thank I am a Reader Not a Writer for hosting the hop – please swing by for a visit, where you’ll find over 200 other awesome giveaways.

Easy Entry – International Giveaway

I’m giving away a $10 gift card to either  Amazon or Barnes & Noble, winner’s choice. To enter, please comment with your email address and you’ll be included in the random.org drawing at the close of the hop. I’d also greatly appreciate it if you’d like my Facebook page, which you can do so in the sidebar on the left or by clicking here. 

The Fine Print

Void where prohibited. Open to everyone who can legally participate. No purchase necessary to win.  Again, VOID WHERE PROHIBITED. For more information about giveaways, click here.

For more fabulous giveaways

Please click here to return to the full list of participating giveaways!

New Low Price for “Tide of Lies” (Romantic Suspense from Sarah Ballance)

If you didn’t like the previously high price tag on TIDE OF LIES, I’ve got great news for you: it’s been SLASHED! Though the story stands alone, you can also catch the beginning in the pages of FAMILIAR LIGHT for just $1.50. Want to learn more? Keep reading for blurbs, buy links, and an excerpt!

Familiar Light

Seven years of longing comes down to just one night.

Laney Kent returns to Barrier Shoals hoping to reunite with her first love, Bridger. She anticipates his reception might be chilly, but what she doesn’t expect is to become the victim of a deadly obsession . . . or that this night with Bridger could be her last.

Bridger Jansen tangled a lot of sheets trying to forget about Laney, but his heart knew what the rest of him refused to admit: he could love no one else. He’s determined not to forgive her for leaving him without explanation, but when he fails to protect her from a viscous attack, the person he can’t forgive just might be himself.

Get for $1.50 from All Romance eBooks or Noble Romance (Also available from Amazon and B&N)

Tide of Lies

A devastating secret. A shocking betrayal. A deadly obsession.

Haunted by three unsolved murders, Detective Holden Whitlow is stunned when his cold case takes a heated turn. Julia Cohen, his ex-lover, is back in town, and in the face of a brutal attack she’s ready to run. No matter how tightly she holds her secrets, for Holden, turning away from the woman he’s spent a decade trying to forget isn’t any more an option than walking away from his job . . . even when it threatens to cost Julia her life.

Julia is still reeling from a past she can’t bear to face. When she becomes the target of a killer, fate throws her back into Holden’s arms, but she’s yet to recover from a truth that has stripped her of everything—and everyone—she loves. Will she tell him the secret that will destroy him, or will her lie destroy them both?

Only $3.49 from Amazon (Also available from B&N)

Tide of Lies Excerpt

[Holden's] hands abandoned [Julia's] thighs to cup her cheeks, the dress held up by his pelvis pressing against hers. “Just tell me one thing, Jules. I have no right to ask this, but just tell me if you’re with anyone. Because whatever happens now, I just want it to be about us. No more secrets.”

“I’m . . . alone.”

The words were still on her breath—the half-truth heavy on her heart and her conscience alike—when his mouth touched hers in a gentle, electrifying sweep. The light kiss, little more than a caress, sent her blood thundering through her veins, exacerbating her need for more.

She clutched his shirt, longing for him to lose control. Her every memory of him began and ended with sweaty, clothes-flinging, breathtaking, and utterly wild sex. If the man didn’t stop treating her as if she’d break, she’d explode.

Then his phone rang, and she thought she might break after all.

“I’ve got to check that,” he said. “Just don’t . . . don’t go anywhere.”

When he stepped away, Julia was torn between righting her dress and taking it off. She settled to an adjustment. She ached for him to rip it over her head. She wanted that moment in her collection of memories.

No doubt, it would be among the last of the good ones.

Holden palmed the phone, his casual stance not hiding the burn in his eyes. “I have to go. This is about your case. I’ll try not to be gone too long, and I’ll bring dinner. Wait for me?”

She nodded. It wasn’t as if she had a choice. Unwilling to watch him go, she turned her back, focusing on a narrow sleeve of ocean through the window. There was a certain camaraderie with the endless churning of the water.

It’ll be over soon.

“Hey, Jules?”

She glanced up to see him waiting in the doorway.

“We were kids.” He paused, the moment growing more intense with each passing second. “Nothing you could have said or done would have screwed things up between me and Hannah if I didn’t let it happen. Ten years ago I found something with you, and I haven’t found it since. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but it matters to me. A lot.”

This time, she couldn’t hold back the tears. She’d braced for a myriad of possibilities, but acceptance hadn’t been among them. “Me, too,” she said in a faint whisper.

“We’ll talk when I get back. Maybe,” he added, “you can use me again or something.” He stepped from the apartment and shut the door, leaving in his wake all the warmth—no, love—a simple look could hold.

That did it. Choking back sobs, Julia crossed the room, her perfectly polished toes peeking from the thick carpet underfoot. She attached the chain on the door, not caring if she locked him out of his own apartment. The sooner he came back, the sooner it would be over.

She had to tell him. She cared for him too much to keep her secret any longer.

And he couldn’t possibly care enough to forgive her for what she had to say.

Shocking secrets, thrilling twists, and an unforgettable finale … catch it all for only $3.49 from Amazon! 

$10 Amazon or B&N #giftcard #giveaway

Did You Know?

Every week I give away a $10 gift card to either Amazon or Barnes & Noble, winner’s choice, and there is only ONE way to enter: subscribe by email. Easy, right? But it gets BETTER! Once you subscribe, you are automatically entered every single week for as long as you remain an email subscriber. To enter, sign up using the subscription box at the top of the left hand sidebar. One entry today means one chance to win EVERY WEEK! That’s all there is to it–no, really, it’s that easy–but if you want the fine print, please click here.

Current Giveaways

Thankful for Books Blog Hop: Enter to win a $10 GC to Amazon or Barnes & Noble – click here

Other Benefits for Subscribers

I offer a LOT of giveaways, and by subscribing you’ll be among the first to know about each and every one. I also keep almost all of my giveaways open to international addresses, and this does include paperbacks. (I am so thrilled to say my books have found their way to Ireland and Poland in just the last month!) Okay, enough yappin’. I know why you’re here. *wink*

Drumroll please …

This Week’s Winner

I didn’t post a winner last week so I have two to report, courtesy of random.org. Congratulations to r.d1 (11/2) and yankssssrule08 (11/9). Winners are announced here each week (most often on Saturday) and contacted via their winning email address, so keep an eye on my blog AND your email to claim your gift card.

11.11.2012 #SixSunday with Last Call

       Coming soon to FTMP!

Nick and Rhys arrived at a safe house. She’s inside, and he’s checking the perimeter.

He took his time getting back to Rhys. He needed to be alone with his thoughts—try and make sense of things without the rage of guilt and desire that seemed to explode every time she was near. Losing her left him looking at his life through a web of shattered glass, and no matter how much he regretted his actions after he shot her, nothing could make those shards whole again. Instead, he was left sifting through the broken pieces—splinters, cuts, and all. But he welcomed the pain. He deserved it … she didn’t.

LAST CALL is now on GoodReads! Click here to add it to your TBR list.

Enjoy your Sunday six sentences at a time!  To see other participating authors, click here.

Are You Ever *Really* Alone? Taylor Dean’s “Lancaster House” (G!veaw@y)

Happy Friday! Today I’m please to welcome author Taylor Dean, who has to her name a collection of book covers at which I can’t stop staring. She’s giving us an inside look at her paranormal romance LANCASTER HOUSE, and if you stick around to the end one I’ll let you know how you can enter to win an e-copy. But first, let’s meet Taylor, shall we?

Welcome, Taylor! It’s great to have you here. I must say, LANCASTER HOUSE looks *amazing*!  Can you introduce our readers to the story?

Here’s the blurb:

Are you ever really alone?

Zoe Grayson needs a change. So, she moves to another state, purchases an old, dilapidated 1920s Victorian Mansion, and sets out to restore it to its former glory. As she begins the restoration, she finds herself falling in love with the old house . . . not to mention its illustrious builder, Mr. Lancaster. Zoe becomes obsessed with the house as she discovers its secrets; hidden rooms, secret passageways . . . and a mysterious man who seems to think the house is his. Who is he? More importantly, how does he live in her home unseen and unheard?

The unexpected answers leave her reeling—and questioning everything she’s ever known. To her dismay, Zoe’s actions land her in the local psychiatric hospital, scheming for ways to return to Lancaster House . . . and the love of her life.

Yep. Totally amazing! From where did you draw inspiration for this story? Do you have any personal ties to the plot?

My inspiration for this story came rather unexpectedly. You see, I’m not really into paranormal! As a matter of fact, other than Twilight, I don’t really read it very often. It all started when my daughter called and challenged me to write a paranormal story. It’s her favorite genre. I promised to think about a plot, knowing in my heart it would never happen. My mind just doesn’t think that way!

Ha! Or so I thought!

About this time I was utterly addicted to American Idol and Adam Lambert! When Adam sang his rendition of Mad World on a fog shrouded stage, dressed in vampire-like garb, I was a goner.  My imagination went wild. It was all the inspiration I needed! From that one visual, the plot of Lancaster House took form in my overactive imagination.

I do have personal ties to the plot. In my childhood, I visited a few creepy mansions in San Jose, California, where I grew up. The experiences of wandering these mansions definitely influenced my writing. The feelings I underwent while exploring were palpable—and unforgettable. One was the Winchester Mystery House and the other was the Hayes Mansion. They, of course, made their way into the story!  The Hayes Mansion has since been restored, but many years ago— back when it was a dilapidated monstrosity under threat of being torn down— my parents considered becoming the caretakers and actually living in the house! My siblings and I actually had our rooms picked out! Can you imagine? I never would’ve slept a wink. My mother admitted to me that the reason they decided to NOT do it was due to the fact that during the day, we’d all be at work or school, and she’d be all alone in the huge house. No, thank you! I don’t blame her one bit!

I am addicted to old houses, and I nearly drooled when you said you’ve been to the Winchester House. And the Hayes Mansion … wow. I just googled it and all I can say is O.o and (!!!!)! How incredible that might have been, but I’m with you – I definitely don’t blame your mom, LOL! What else might readers be surprised to learn about the plot or characters of Lancaster House?

I think most people are a little surprised that Andre was inspired by Adam Lambert. He was my inspiration, but the reader has the pleasure of picturing Andre any way they want! That’s the beauty of reading! Happy imagining!

Awesome perspective, and a fantastic point! Let’s have some fun with Lancaster House. What’s the first sentence?

“9-1-1, what is your emergency, please?”

Right into the action there! What’s your favorite line in the book?

Believe it, know it, accept it.

Intriguing … I can’t wait to find out how you use it in the story. ;c) How about an excerpt … three sentences long! Yep, that’s it. Three!

“I repeat, could you have created him, Zoe? The answer may surprise you.”

Zoe was quiet for several minutes, until she responded in an even tone, “The answer may scare the hell out of you.”

Oh, man. I SO want to read this one! Which scene of Lancaster House was most difficult for you to write? Why?

The most challenging scenes were the ones between Zoe and her psychiatrist. After all, I’m not a psychiatrist and I had no idea what kinds of methods a doctor of mental health would actually use during therapy sessions. However, my ‘recently-graduated-psychology-major-daughter’ was a huge help to me. I constantly asked her, “What would Doctor Channing do in this instance?” She gave me advice every step of the way and I couldn’t have written the book without her expertise!

That’s a pretty awesome source of information, and what fun for you to work together! Which scene would you most like to experience for yourself? From whose POV?

I never once go into the mind of Andre and tell the story through his POV. I’d love to experience the entire story through Andre’s perspective. It would be fascinating.

That’s a really cool thought. What inspired the title of Lancaster House?

I’ve hardly told this to anyone! Since Adam Lambert was my inspiration for Andre, I thought, “A.L., hmmmmm, what name could my main character have that would have the same initials?”

Hence, Andre Lancaster was born!  After that, the title of Lancaster House seemed fitting.  The house became a character in the book without prior planning on my part.

I am honored to have the scoop! And it’s funny how we sometimes figure things out, and how well they work from  the strangest beginnings? LOL. What’s next for you? 

I have been slowly releasing my six completed novels and the endeavor has taken up all of my time! Here’s the release schedule:

Lancaster House – June 2012
Sierra – June 2012
I Have People – Sept. 2012
The Middle Aisle – Dec. 2012 (sequel to Lancaster House)
Joshua’s Folly – March 2013
For Nick – June 2013

Lancaster House

Are you ever really alone?

Zoe Grayson needs a change. So, she moves to another state, purchases an old, dilapidated 1920s Victorian Mansion, and sets out to restore it to its former glory. As she begins the restoration, she finds herself falling in love with the old house . . . not to mention its illustrious builder, Mr. Lancaster. Zoe becomes obsessed with the house as she discovers its secrets; hidden rooms, secret passageways . . . and a mysterious man who seems to think the house is his. Who is he? More importantly, how does he live in her home unseen and unheard?

The unexpected answers leave her reeling—and questioning everything she’s ever known. To her dismay, Zoe’s actions land her in the local psychiatric hospital, scheming for ways to return to Lancaster House . . . and the love of her life.

Find it @ Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Apple

Taylor Dean

Taylor Dean lives in Texas and is the mother of four grown children. Upon finding herself with an empty nest, she began to write the stories that were always wandering around in her head, quickly finding that she had a passion for writing, specifically romance. Whether it’s paranormal, contemporary, or suspense—you’ll find all sub-genres of romance in her line-up.

Learn more @ website | facebook | twitter: @taylordeanbooks | goodreads

Giveaway

Clamoring to get a hold of this one? For a chance to win it, please comment with your email address. And if you’ve ever been inside an old or haunted house, tell us about it! Thank you all for being here, and Taylor, it’s been an absolute pleasure. ;c)

Elizabeth Morgan: Just Take One Step at a Time (G!veaway)

Please welcome Elizabeth Morgan with this guest blog celebrating her new release STEPPING STONES.

Just Take One Step at a Time

by Elizabeth Morgan

Stepping Stones possibly falls under being a strange name for a book let alone a romance book. And perhaps it is even stranger since there aren’t actually any stepping stones in the story.

Have you ever heard the expression, “just take one step at a time?” You probably have since such sayings like, “take each day as it comes,” falls alongside it.

These sayings are our way of telling ourselves or others that we have to take things slowly, we have to take our time, and we can’t rush decision or choices. Every day we are taking steps in our life path. Some days we may take a couple of steps back, but it’s all about progression; about moving forward.

Have I confused you? I apologize if I have, but I shall start at the beginning.

The idea for Stepping Stones came in a dream. Now, I have had many dreams and been shown scenes etc which I have immediately written down when I have woken up, because I thought they would make interesting stories.  But this particular dream was the first and only one I have had to date where I was basically given the story on a silver platter. Not that I am trying to say writing this story was easy, because it wasn’t and for a couple of reasons, but I saw everything.

In this dream I was in Maggie’s shoes. I remember pulling up in a taxi outside this church situated on a cliff top. The bride ran straight up to me and said that her maid-of-honour couldn’t make it and she wanted me to take her place. I was reluctant, but she talked me round.

I remember walking down the aisle and being gobsmacked that my ex was the Vicar marrying this couple. I stood through the service with my eyes fixed on the wall not daring to look at him, and then when I finally could get out of their I ran . . . right into the last person I wanted to see; my foster brother. I was angry with him, but I missed him.

The next scene I was in the garden with my mother and father who told me – and this is where there were some actual stepping stones – and my foster brother to go and argue it out, and each time we told the truth, or made a point, we could take a step forward. The aim being that by the time we met in the middle we had to be fine and make up.

Now, it’s a bit of a strange dream, and sure it lacks in detail, but that was the seed for Stepping Stones, and I woke up knowing that I had to write the story. It took me a year to do so, but I finally finished it and submitted it and I’m happy to say that it is being released this month.

It still isn’t obvious why I called the book that, though, is it?

Only a few of those elements found their way in to the book. I added and padded the rest out, but I didn’t add the actual scene with the stones. Why? Well, it probably would have worked if Maggie’s father was a psychiatrist and had crazy exercises for getting people to communicate, but that’s not her father, or how he is.

But even though no stones are visible or present, the point of them, and the saying still apply to this story, because Stepping Stones is about Maggie retracing her steps. It’s about her finding her way back home, back to happiness, and having to take the steps necessary to fix the damage she caused six years prior.

She has to take one step at a time to figure out what she truly wants, where she wants to be, and who she wants to be with.

And that is why the book has been titled Stepping Stones.

Giveaway

Thank you so much for joining me today. If you have made it to this point in the post you might be happy to know that I am giving a copy of “Stepping Stones” away to one lucky commenter. So, if you are interested in winning just leave me a comment along with your email address, and on November 14th at midnight – 6pm est time – I shall pick a winner with the help of random.org.

There is an excerpt below should you wish to have a taste of the book. I have to say that this is my first sweet contemporary romance, and compared to all my other books it is completely innocent. But I did enjoy writing it, and should you win or be interested in purchasing yourself a copy, I do hope you enjoy reading it. J

Stepping Stones

There’s nothing like a wedding to bring the family together . . . .

And if it wasn’t her baby sister’s wedding, Margaret West, wouldn’t be returning home at all.

Why else would she go back after six years knowing full well that she has people to face, and explanations to give?

If her parent’s interrogation wasn’t bad enough, the fact that she has to be civil to her foster brother, Adrian, is. Best friends since childhood, they haven’t spoken since he went to America . . . The day before Margaret was supposed to be getting married.

And to make matters worse, her ex-fiancée, William, is the Vicar who will be conducting her sister’s wedding ceremony!

All want an answer from her, and they aren’t taking no as one of them. Why did she run in the first place? Why has she been so angry with, Adrian? Why didn’t she marry, William?

Margaret isn’t even sure she knows the real reasons any more.

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Excerpt

Chapter One

December 9, 2013

Several months ago, Jessica—my younger sister—called to announce that she and Edward finally set a date, and she wanted me to design and make her wedding dress. I had promised her that I would when her big day came; so I had to keep my promise.

That seemed like the simple part.

Then she informed me that she wanted me to be her maid of honour; I hadn’t been expecting that piece of information.

I tried to coax her into changing her mind and giving the honour to her best friend Stacie, but being a sweet and determined young woman, Jess managed to make me agree. Any other sister would be thrilled by such a requested; for some reason, the honour didn’t thrill me.

My sister’s impending marriage to Edward made me happy, but the thought of trying to excuse myself from the wedding, well, the idea slammed against the walls of my brain more than a few times over the last four months, and, I’m ashamed to add, repeatedly. But I couldn’t do that. Not to Jess, not my baby sister, and not on her special day. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I couldn’t. I would never forgive myself.

So why do I have an overpowering urge to fling open the train door and jump?

I watched the passing scenery blend together, turning into nothing more than flying colours as the train to Penzance took me farther away from the hustle and bustle of my busy London life. With each second, I felt my heart sinking lower and lower into my stomach as the carriage gently rocked from side to side.

Survive two days, and then go home. Back to my routine, my life; far away from the end of the world.

I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the seat, holding back the tears.

What kind of a sister am I? It’s bad enough that I’ve delayed coming until two days before the wedding. Now I want to cry like a silly child, just because I have to go somewhere I don’t want to go.

I took a deep breath and looked out of the window. “Stop being stupid.” I mumbled to myself, grateful for the empty seats nearby.

The sun crept downward, trying to hide its face behind the passing hills. Hiding the way I wanted to; the way I had been.

Not yet 4:00 p.m. yet, and the sun had almost vanished. Typical of Jess to want to get married in winter.

“The magic of Christmas.” She laughed down the phone when she told me the wedding would be in December; my sister, the young romantic.

Early today, my mother phoned and demanded I stay in my family home instead of going to a hotel. Reluctantly, I agreed. In all honesty, I actually missed her, and my father, even though I knew he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut for the duration of my visit. He would probably guilt trip me into going back for Christmas.

I looked forward to a long and uncomfortable few days.

And no one to blame but myself.

* * * * *

I paid the taxi driver extra money to take me the long way around, through Church Cove to Helston, mainly because I wanted to drive past Lizard Point.

It took fifteen extra minutes for me to get where I needed to be, but I felt no hurry to arrive at my parents’ house.

The sun completely disappeared, and the moon took her place. I rolled down the back window and stared out across the fields to the distant sea, watching the bitter wind dance through the tall grasses and make its way to me. I inhaled the familiar scent as the gusts spun around my face in a frantic caress, welcoming me home. It would probably be the kindest welcome I received, so I soaked it in as the car continued to drive.

I had walked along the cliffs as a child so many times. My gaze had constantly searched the horizon, while I waited for . . . something; anything or anyone that would sweep me away on an adventure. I had wanted adventures. I had needed them as much as I needed oxygen to live. I had wanted something more than this; more than Landewednack and the Lizard.

Unexpected laughter bubbled up my throat and poured from my lips. I placed my hand over my mouth, my cheeks heated; I noticed the taxi driver looking at me through the rearview mirror. I dropped my hand to my lap and gave him an apologetic smile, then returned my attention to the familiar landscape.

Something more than Landewednack? Perhaps I should have reminded myself of that small fact six years ago, and then everything wouldn’t be such a mess.

I closed my eyes and listened to the distant ocean as it argued with the cliff wall.

The Lizard had always been my favorite place. Just being there made me feel like a child again. My mother and father would take us to the Lizard every second Sunday after church. Jess would sit between me and Adrian . . . . The thought of him sliced through my chest.

I sighed and opened my eyes. I fixed my focus ahead as the taxi turned and Lizard Point vanished from view.

Adrian, my foster brother.

Mother and father took him in when his mother, Joyce—my mother’s best friend since childhood—died of breast cancer. Adrian had been ten years old.

I could still remember how sad he had looked. His golden blonde hair had flopped around his face, hiding his blue, puffy eyes.

I had been seven. Mother hadn’t told me that Joyce had died, just that Adrian would be living with us from that point onward, and that I had be nice to him.

I’d met him only two times before his mother passed, but I found it impossible not to be nice to Adrian.

He took two weeks to come out of his shell, just enough so he could start playing games with me. He didn’t talk, just played. A few months and that eventually changed; we could never get him to shut up.

I still remembered the first thing he said to me after all that time. On an extremely hot day, we sat at Kynance Cove with our feet in the ocean. He pulled my hair playfully, and said, “You know, you have pretty hair.”

We were best friends from that moment onward.

I felt the sting of my tears as they crawled down my frozen cheeks. The wind continued to blast through the open window, pushing against me as if it wanted to sweep my tears away. I buried my chin in the warmth of my crimson scarf and hugged myself tightly, a weak attempt to warm a deeper chill.

I asked the driver to drop me off round the corner from my parents’ house. I paid him, then grabbed the four dress bags off the seat beside me while he got my suitcase from the trunk.

Taking a cigarette from my handbag, I lit it while I watched the taxi drive away. I wanted so badly to go with him.

I took a long drag of my cig; the familiar smoky burn hit me, and I felt my body relax. I could do this. I had to.

Once I finished my cigarette, I flicked it to the ground and stubbed it out, while I cursed myself for not buying some chewing gum from the train station. No doubt, my mother would give me an earache on the dangers of smoking.

I flung the dress bags over my shoulder and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. The steady rumble of the wheels and the sharp click of my stilettos echoed throughout the silence, as if everyone needed to know I had finally returned.

My index finger felt close to breaking, due to the weight of the dress bags, but I refused to walk any quicker. Not that my forced lack of effort mattered, because within a second I stood looking directly at the familiar grey stone house.

I felt the metal handle of my suitcase digging into my palm as my grip automatically tightened. I fought the wave of nausea in my stomach.

Six years later, the house still looked exactly the same, as if trapped in time. The grass-green gate with its bold brass numbers seem to stare at me, while warm light peeked through the net curtains in the kitchen, beckoning me inside.

How much of this place is trapped in the past? The thought alone scared me.

I stood silently on the other side of the deserted road. The wind danced my hair across my shoulders and brought the smell of the salt from the sea with it. Both seem to push me to go and ring the bell to my family home.

I took one last deep breath, hoping to ease the growing knot in my stomach as it slowly tightened. The sudden need to run away took over, again.

“Stop it.” I shivered. “You’re being stupid, Maggie. It’s two days.” I stepped onto the road. The wheels of my case rumbled against the stone; the noise rang in my ears.

“Two days, and you will be on your way back to London.” I pushed open the green gate, then walked through.

“Back home.” I stopped at the porch door, my gaze fixed on the bell. “You can do this.”

Before I knew it, I lifted my hand and my right index finger pressed the buzzer. My mother’s smile greeted me as she eagerly threw open the door. Her faded, strawberry blonde hair framed her oval face in a short bob. Her moss green eyes glinted in the dull lighting, so similar to my own hazel-green irises yet always so much brighter.

My smile came naturally. “Hi, Ma.”

Mother opened her arms wide, and before I knew it, she’d wrapped the dress bags and me in her embrace. She gripped me tightly. The familiar smell of lavender and homemade bread rose from her clothing, hitting me hard as I rested my head on her shoulder. I felt the knot in my stomach shrink as I rested my free hand on her back.

“I’ve missed you.” She whispered, before pressing a light kiss on my cheek.

“I’ve missed you, too.” More than I actually realized. Guilt flooded me. I had acted so unfairly, but I already knew that. As much as I tried to ignore the feeling, as much as I didn’t want to hear anything from anyone else, I knew my actions had been harsh.

Mother pulled back and studied me.

“I smell smoke.” She leant forward, her nose wriggled. “You’re smoking? Oh, Margaret, it’s very bad for you, you—”

I picked my suitcase up and squeezed past her. “You’ve decorated the hall.”

I looked round at the new, warm yellow walls. The familiar art of country landscapes hung where they always had. The hall use to be magnolia. A popular shade for decorating, but I always thought that the colour didn’t look right in any hallway. When people stepped into someone’s home, they wanted to feel warm and cosy; the new shade of yellow gave that feeling.

“No, we haven’t.” She shut the door.

I turned and faced her. “The hall has always been magnolia.”

“What your mother means by ‘no’ is that the hall has been like this for the last four years.”

I turned to see my father stood in the doorway of the living room. His expression appeared unwelcoming. I didn’t think he’d be happy to see me, but he couldn’t force himself to smile, even for the sake of being civil. But my father never changed, always stubborn and straitlaced.

He looked older and slightly larger. Silver streaked through his jet-black hair, and he now wore a beard. It suited him. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. His dark brown eyes fixed on me.

“Welcome home, Margaret,” he said. “It’s taken you long enough.”

“George.” Mother’s tone remained gentle, but the note of warning rang clear.

“I know. I’m”—I sighed—”I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy.”

The lie dripped from my tongue like melted butter.

“Huh.” His laugh sounded forced. “So you always say. Explain to me, then, why Adrian, who lives all the way in America, comes to visit three times a year, yet you can’t manage it, and you’re only three hours up the road.”

“George, please don’t do this right now.” Mother sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “She only just got here.”

“I know that, Victoria, which is precisely why I am doing this now. I don’t know when she next intends to grace us with her presence.”

“It’s all right, Ma.” I hated the fact that I could feel tears gathering in my eyes. “If my father has something to say, he can say it.”

“Well, thank you for your permission, Margaret.”

I really hated my father when he acted like this.

“Adrian is obviously not as busy as I am.” A rather cheap and petty shot, but who cared?

I watched as my father’s face turned red. His eyes darkened as he unfolded his arms.

I needed that; I needed him to be angrier so I could be angry. So I wouldn’t cry like some stupid child getting scolded.

“Besides, you haven’t been to visit me.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Pa. If I’m ‘only up the road’ as you put it, why haven’t you come to see me?”

“Children come to visit their parents. Parents shouldn’t need to visit their children.”

“What a load of—”

Mother’s gaze turned on me. “Margaret Louise West, don’t you curse in my house.”

“Don’t you dare try to turn this on me and your mother, Maggie.” My father continued as he stepped through the doorway. “After everything you put us through.”

“Oh, George, please—”

I felt my nerve snap. “I have apologized for everything, okay? I’m sorry!”

“So you have said—”

“There is nothing more to be said. I am sorry I didn’t sit down and talk to you both about everything; about how I felt. I made a spontaneous decision, and I handled it wrong, but, I paid you back, I—”

“This has nothing to do with money! This is to do with you not being home for six years; for not visiting and for short phone calls every few weeks!” He placed his hands on his hips. “Do you know how many people you’ve hurt, young lady?”

I grabbed my suitcase and headed toward the door. “I can’t do this right now.”

He laughed. It sounded rough and grating, like stones in a blender. “That’s right, Margaret, run away again—”

My jaw tensed. “I am going to stay at one of the hotels. I’m only here for Jess and Edward’s wedding, then I’m going home,” I said, without looking at him.

“I’m surprised you even decided to come—”

“Stop it!” Mother’s voice seemed to shake the entire house. “Margaret, you’re staying here. It is not open for debate. George, go in the living room and please keep your opinions to yourself!”

“Victoria—”

“There will be a time for this, but it isn’t tonight.”

I heard my father shuffle back into the living room with a huff. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Now go and take your luggage to your room, Maggie. I will make you a cup of tea.”

I turned around and watched as she wandered off into the kitchen.

Five minutes. I had been there five minutes and, well, what had I expected from them? Flowers and a welcome home banner?

With a sigh, I walked up the stairs, carrying the dresses and dragging my suitcase behind me.

I didn’t blame my father for being angry. Six years had been a long time not to visit, and I did feel terrible. I tried to visit, many times, but every time I did, I would just stop. The thought alone of being here . . . . It didn’t matter anymore. I had returned.

I stood in the doorway of my old bedroom. They’d left the walls white, and the curtains, carpet, and bedding remained purple. Nothing had changed within it; well, the room looked tidier. I wasn’t the neatest person, so my mother obviously cleared everything up at some point.

My vanity table, which sat just next to the window overlooking the sea, used to be covered with jewellery and products. My sewing machine in the corner, facing my bedroom door, used to have half-made dresses covering the desk. Instead, mum packed all my old material and threads in boxes, put them beneath the table, and placed a vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill.

I smiled as a comforting familiarity settled in me.

I shut the bedroom door, and hung the four heavy dress bags on the hook. I pulled my suitcase to the foot of the bed. I saw no point in unpacking the two spare outfits I had brought with me, because I wouldn’t be staying longer than expected.

I skimmed my finger over the wood of my old vanity table; memories of getting ready in front of the mirror danced in my mind. I glanced out at our back garden, at the moon shining upon the ocean, turning the water silver. I inhaled the scent of the fresh flowers. Standing there made me feel as if I had never left in the first place, and the thought alone freaked me out. But then again, as they say, “there’s no place like home.”

I walked to my wardrobe and opened the door. My heart felt like it had jumped into my throat.

Among a few old tops and a pair of jeans hung a familiar black bag. I reached in to pull out the bag. My hands trembled as I slid the zip down. I could already see the detailed lace bodice peeking through the small gap. I knew Mother hadn’t thrown it out, but why did she have to put it in here?

I lifted out the dress, watching as the white silk skirt dropped and the train formed a puddle on the floor.

My wedding dress; the one I designed, spent days making, and never got to wear.

A simple design; elegant to look at. All the detail scrolled through the black lace that covered the firm white bodice; the intricate swirls, which seemed to climb like ivy. I didn’t know why, but I walked over to the mirror of my vanity table and held the dress against myself.

How many times had I done that? At least once a day, for two months.

I ran my hands across the material and held it close as I studied it. The girl in the mirror cried. Confusion claimed her features. The weight of a sudden decision dragged her down, and what she intended to do hurt her more than anyone else would ever know, but why had running been the answer?

My eyelids fluttered. Tears caught in my lashes. How had everything suddenly gone so wrong, so quickly?

I carefully placed the dress back inside the bag, then hung it in the wardrobe. I ran my hand across the bodice, my fingertips tracing the design of lace one more time.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I could do this. I just needed to concentrate on Jess, on helping her, and being there for her. I could ignore my father’s jabs and dodge everybody else. Simple.

I opened my eyes and zipped up the bag.

“Two days.” I reminded myself as I shut the wardrobe door.

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Elizabeth Morgan

Elizabeth lives in a small country village in Cheshire, England, with two cats. You will always find her on the computer, blasting music and writing away. She started life wanting to be an actress because she loved performing. She enjoyed nothing more than being able to make people laugh, to distract them from reality for a few hours. She studied Musical Theatre in college, but during her second year, her mind started to overflow with ideas for scripts and she began writing plays. Slowly over the following three years, she was writing more and more, channeling her imagination into more detailed manuscripts…

Here she is, years later, hiding away like a hermit, writing like crazy and loving every minute of it.

Where to find Elizabeth Online

Website: www.e-morgan.com
Blog: www.xxxxmyworldxxxx.blogspot.com
Twitter: @EMorgan2010
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/ElizabethMorgan
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.morgan.944
Blog: (Shared with Dianna Hardy): http://notjustastiffupperlip.blogspot.co.uk/
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