Tara Chevrestt's Blog, page 107

Strong is Sexy Heroine of the Week: Alda

Book: The Cross and the Dragon
Author: Kim Rendfeld
Heroine: Alda 


What Makes Alda StrongAlda is strong-willed, intelligent, wise, and compassionate, but what I admire most about her is her courage. Falsely accused of adultery, she points to the tomb of a saint and swears her fidelity, adding “May Saint Melaine strike me down if my words are not true!” On the night her beloved, battle-scarred husband, Hruodland, will leave for the invasion of Hispania, Alda has a premonition of danger. Rather than lie passively, she gives him her most precious possession, a dragon amulet, for protection, even though she believes it makes her more vulnerable.What Makes Alda Sexy Hruodland thinks his young wife is beautiful, yet what attracts him on an emotional level is her cleverness, honesty, and fierce loyalty. He had expected the perfect wife to be meek and obedient, yet Alda is anything but that. What he loves about her is that she is untame, that she is strong, that she will give up her most precious possession to protect him.Blurb:Francia, 778: Alda has never forgotten Ganelon’s vow of vengeance when she married his rival, Hruodland. Yet the jilted suitor’s malice is nothing compared to Alda’s premonition of disaster for her beloved, battle-scarred husband.Although the army invading Hispania is the largest ever and King Charles has never lost a war, Alda cannot shake her anxiety. Determined to keep Hruodland from harm, even if it exposes her to danger, Alda gives him a charmed dragon amulet.
Is its magic enough to keep Alda’s worst fears from coming true — and protect her from Ganelon?

Inspired by legend and painstakingly researched, The Cross and the Dragon is a story of tenderness, sacrifice, lies, and revenge in the early years of Charlemagne’s reign, told by a fresh, new voice in historical fiction.

An Open Letter to My Hearing Friends from Shanna Groves

Recently, I discovered this amazing woman and author who is bringing awareness to hearing loss and difficulties via literature, her blog, and YouTube. Here is a letter from her. Please welcome Shanna Groves.
Dear Friend,
I want to discuss an important difference we have—something that can impact our entire communication from this point forward.
When you were born, your hearing was normal. So was mine. For years, I took the ability to hear for granted. I listened to my car stereo several notches too loud and sat in concert arenas filled with the shrill sounds of guitars, drums and vocalists belting out tunes. As a college student, I worked in a noisy printing press environment without wearing earplugs. All the while, my hearing gradually suffered.
For the past 11 years, my life has differed from yours. It’s all because of a diagnosis I received two months after my oldest child was born: I have progressive hearing loss.
What does that mean? Imagine losing the sensitive hairs that line the back of your neck, one by one. You wait and wait for them to grow back, but they never do. For some unknown reason, the hairs are gone forever. That has happened to my inner ears. The nerve hairs in the deepest part of each ear have been destroyed permanently. Cause unknown. Without these hairs, my ears are not as sensitive to sound as yours.
The first part of my hearing that disappeared was with high-frequency pitches—birds singing, kids screaming, phones ringing, and all soft consonant sounds (f, s, t, v). Gone. Permanently. I am deaf to these noises.
The inability to hear high-frequency pitches affects all of my conversations with you.
You: “Is the baby sleeping?”What I hear: “Ha! Baby leaping.”
You: “What time is it?”What I hear: “Whoa, I’m in.”
I have worn hearing aids for nine years to help with hearing better. But please repeat after me:
HEARING AIDS ARE A HELP, NOT A SOLUTION FOR HEARING LOSS.
With my hearing aids, I can hear the phone ring and the kids scream and soft consonant sounds—most of the time. Yet even with the aids, I still can’t hear robins chirping over me as I sit on my backyard swing. Do I miss that sound? Yes. Every day.
I want to ask that the two of us find a way to bridge the gap between our hearing differences, to understand each other. So, here are my suggestions...
~ Please face me when you speak. My eyes have become my ears. I watch your lips move and interpret your facial and body gestures. That is impossible to do when I am in the driver’s seat and you are talking to me from the passenger’s side of the car. Let me stop the car or come to a stoplight so I can give you my full attention.
~ Quiet rooms are always the best place for me to hear you well. When this isn’t possible, I hear better in a private booth rather than at a table in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Better yet, pull me aside, look me in the eye, and speak slowly and with good articulation. Doing this will decrease the chances of you having to repeat yourself three times before I get it.
~ I don’t expect you to walk on eggshells if you are unsure whether I have heard something you said. It is much better to tell me that I didn’t respond to your question, than to assume I am rude, dumb or zoned out for not answering.
~ If any of my suggestions seem too radical, I’d like you to try an experiment. Wedge two cotton balls in both of your ears, then try to carry on a conversation in a noisy room with your eyes closed. Difficult, isn’t it? Welcome to my world!
By writing to you, I hope to provide insight that will help when we have our next conversation. You are a good friend for taking the time to read this letter. You’ve shown support in my hearing journey by taking an interest in what I write. Thank you for that.
As your friend, here is my commitment to you...
~ I promise to give you my full attention when you speak to me.
~ I promise to politely ask you to repeat yourself if I have missed something you said.
~ I promise to care about what you have to say because I care about you.
Blessings,Shanna Groveshttp://LipreadingMom.com
###
AUTHOR BIO
Shanna Groves was diagnosed with progressive hearing loss two months after her oldest child was born. She was 27. Her books, Lip Reader, and Confessions of a Lip Reading Mom, were inspired by her experiences with deafness. Follow her blogs LipreadingMom.com and Deaf-Insight.com/Ask-Lipreading-Mom, and read more about her writing and speaking at www.ShannaGroves.com.
She has a book releasing soon called Confessions of a Lip Reading Mom. Also, take a moment to watch her YouTube video. SHOW HER YOUR EARS! 

Grace Elliot...What Makes Her Cry?

Please welcome Grace Elliot.

"Last Saturday I went to the cinema and was taken on the most wonderful emotional journey. Forewarned by tales of people not leaving at the end credits, because they didn't want others to see they had been crying, I braced myself. Indeed, about ten minutes into the movie at the first emotional hiatus, my 20 year old son was swallowing so heavily I could hear him in the dark, but I remained dry eyed. After three-quarters of an hour and the death of a main character, I congratulate myself on still not having shed a tear whilst those around me sat sniffing. So I was totally unprepared, when after nearly three hours, and the movie reached its conclusion I was like a helpless baby with tears rolling down my cheeks and soaking my roll-neck sweater.



And what was the movie?

Les Miserables.

The irony is, that despite being left bereft at the end, I , along with the rest of the cinema stood and clapped. And the reason we clapped was that we had seen a towering example of the glory of the human spirit and the power of love. Not only that, but the film was a feast for the senses; from wonderful sweeping vista shots and searching close-ups, to the soaring music and wonderful lyrics, a true celebration of creativity, and a wonderful escape to a different world.

And that's what I look for in a good book; that sense of being immersed in a world that becomes real and to care about the characters such that their troubles become mine. As an author, my aim is to write the sort of page-turner I love to read, but only you, the reader can say whether I have succeeded or not.

In my latest release, "Hope's Betrayal", Captain George Huntley falls in love with his prisoner, a smuggler called Hope Tyler. But love on opposite sides of the law is a difficult destiny to follow when it means court-marshal for Huntley, or Hope betraying her own family. 


***
Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace believes intelligent people need to read romance as an antidote to the modern world. As an avid reader of historicals she turned to writing as a release from the emotionally draining side of veterinary work.

Grace lives near London and is addicted to cats. The Elliot household consists of five cats, two teenage sons, one husband, a guinea pig - and the latest addition - a bearded dragon!



Author Links

Website / Blog / Newsletter / Facebook / Twitter / Amazon Author Page


Hope’s Betrayal 
By 
Grace Elliot Historical Romance 
November 2012 


One wild, winter's night two worlds collide. 
Known for his ruthless efficiency, Captain George Huntley is sent to stamp out smuggling on the south coast of England. On a night raid, the Captain captures a smuggler, but finds his troubles are just beginning when the lad turns out to be a lass, Hope Tyler. 
With Hope as bait, the Captain sets a trap to catch the rest of the gang. But in a battle of wills, with his reputation at stake, George Huntley starts to respect feisty, independent Hope. Challenged by her sea-green eyes and stubborn loyalty Huntley now faces a new threat - his growing attraction to a sworn enemy. But a love where either Hope betrays her own kind, or Captain Huntley is court-marshaled, is not an easy destiny to follow. 
Excerpt 
Lass Not a Lad.- Captain Huntley Makes a Discovery About his Prisoner. 
Alone with his prisoner the Captain set to work, his face all harsh angles in the lamplight. First to stem the bleeding. Working with deft hands, he pulled the bloodstained scarf from the felon's head. Surprise registered, as he noted the delicate ears and elegant neck. The boy’s hair gleamed like polished-coal in the lamplight; tied back in a pony tail, black-as-the-devil’s heart. 

Huntley reached for a rag to wipe blood from the boy's eyes and cheek. Soft skin emerged from beneath the clotted mess. The boy was young…a round face with pointed chin, a tipped nose …and lips, softly parted and provocatively plump….just ripe for kissing. A flush of heat warmed Huntley's cheeks. What was he thinking?

Wiping his sleeve across his eyes he forced himself to continue. He bathed the laceration, cleaning away sand and blood. Something about this lad had stirred deep emotions and the captain didn’t like it one little bit. He glanced toward the door, not wanting to be alone with the smuggler and these strange feelings he stirred.

“What the devil's taking that wench so long?”

The fire was crackling nicely now, steam rising from the lad's clothes. But it wasn’t warm enough; cold could kill every bit as much as blood loss.

”Hell's teeth, do I have to do everything myself?”

With rising irritation, Huntley set to stripping the lad of his wet clothes.

He peeled back the patched jacket, twice its weight with water, and dropped it to the floor. A patched and frayed shirt, sticky with blood, clung to the lad’s lean frame. Huntley tugged the shirt-tail free of the lad’s sodden breeches and off over his head, with the result that the Captain's pulse raced alarmingly.

“Get a grip, man.” Huntley muttered.

The lad had unexpectedly slim shoulders, a silver stiletto strapped to his thin upper arm.

“Naughty.”

Unsheathing the knife he held the elegant blade toward the firelight; a finely crafted weapon of silver filigree over an ivory handle— a lady’s weapon, and obviously expensive.

“Who did you steal this from, then?”

Placing the stiletto safely out of reach, he turned back to the table. Stripped of his shirt, it seemed the lad had broken ribs, for his chest was strapped. The bindings were soaked and must come off. Shifting the unconscious lad into a sitting position, balancing him against his shoulder, Huntley unwound the bandages.

As he lay the lad back down on the table, Huntley was suddenly struck by the peculiar shadows playing across the boy’s chest. A flush of blood heated his cheeks. That explained a lot! Huntley’s mouth dropped open; he threw back his head and laughed aloud with relief.

“Tis not a lad….but a lass!"

Alone in the scullery with a half-naked girl…no, not a girl, for she had the soft curves of a woman. Huntley took a step back. The sense of relief was overwhelming, that it was a woman who had excited his body so. He looked around for someone to share his astonishment, but the maid had not yet returned.

In his experience women were tiresome, wearisome creatures that sapped the spirit and drained the mind, but he studied this one with interest. Dark lashes lay brushed against her cheek, an almost catlike tilt to her closed eyes. Her skin was clear, fresh, and unblemished. Her face was wide, round even, but with a pointed chin and a nose turned up at the end. In all he decided, she was beautiful with the stubbornness of a mule and fragility of a china doll. She had been a worthy advisory on the dunes; agile, brave and resourceful and it thrilled him to the core. Lost in thought ,Huntley shrugged off his outer coat and covered her over, then removed himself to a respectable distance.

Nothing had changed, he told himself. She was a felon and would pay the penalty demanded by law. And if Huntley felt uneasy at the prospect he suppressed the emotion, it was just that he had to get used to the notion of interrogating a woman.
Buy Links 
Amazon US / Amazon UK / Smashwords / Kobo 

Out of Sight Out of Mind by Evonne Wareham

A romantic suspense with a paranormal twist, but when I say paranormal, I don't mean vampires or shape shifters or such. I mean...mind reading.

The heroine can read minds and when she meets this homeless and bedraggled man in an alley and feels a weird connection to him, she thinks she's hit the jackpot with a perfect subject to experiment on and gets a lot more than she bargained for. * I appreciate this homeless man twist. Parts here made me think about how quickly we judge others by their appearance when in reality, we know nothing about them or why they are in the situation we are in. *

There's lots of shocking and dirty secrets revealed as the end comes near. Elaborate plots in which it's hard to tell who is one whose side. Even in the end, I was a tiny bit confused by some things. Was the gov't in on it? Did they want it too? Why did they permit this and that... I was left with some questions.

I really enjoyed watching the relationship between her and Jay unfold though. The sex was great--not too much, not too little.

The story keeps you guessing. "Whose side is he on? Did he know about this? Who is responsible?" The entire tale is like neatly made bed in the beginning and very slowly you pull back the covers, inch-by-inch, sheet by sheet. That last 3/4 especially are WOWZA!

And I'm going to be very careful not to reveal much more than that as this is one of those stories in which the less said, the better. I'd hate to ruin it for someone.

I was very surprised by the turn of events. This was NOT a predictable story in any way. I confess in the middle there for a while, my mind began to stray. I feel like it was made a little longer than it needed to be, took too long to get to the point at times. Thus, four stars.

Tracy & Charley Vega Talk Personal Dating Safety for Your Teenage Daughter... Or Yourself.

This post is in honor of February Teen Dating Violence, but I believe we need to be aware of this all year round and not just teens, but women, period. Date rape is a serious threat. Many of us have faced it. Many of you have daughters who will face it. Please welcome Tracy & Charley Vega. I've invited them to talk about this, because I feel it's important. They have a great tip for your daughter to ward off a potential attack...and you women may need to use this yourselves. Who knows?
"We all dread the day that our daughter will ask permission to go out on her first date.  You thought you were prepared but now that it’s actually going to happen, are you and your daughter ready?
Let’s start with some basic questions such as what do you know about the person your daughter is dating?
Where did they meet?
Do you know the family?
Will someone from their family be driving them?
Are they old enough to drive?
What do they drive?              
Do they have a curfew?
What contact information do you have of the date?
I know you are probably thinking that all of these are common sense questions and they are, but is your daughter giving you the information freely? The last thing you want is for her to go on date with someone you know nothing about! Of course a lot of this information will depend on how old your daughter and her date are.  One of the first things I would suggest  you do is go on a few social media sites and see what you can find out.  Sometimes what you hear and what you should know are worlds apart. Before you give permission for the date you should be completely satisfied with the answers you received (or found out) to the questions above.
We all have butterflies before a date but trust your daughter’s instincts. If she reluctant or showing any signs of hesitation trust her instincts and find out why. This would be particularly important if this is happening before a second date. Maybe something didn’t seem right the first time. It’s scary to think that we have to prepare our kids for a “bad date” but we need to.
Would your daughter know what to do if her date was getting a little too touchy feely? Would she know how to make that stop if she needed to? Here is what your daughter should know if her date is paying a little too much attention to her and refuses to remove his arm from around her shoulder. It’s a very simple solution that literally gets the point across.
Imagine making a “girl fist” with your thumb sticking out and over your fist slightly (thumb on top). Now imagine the area where the bottom of your bra strap is and the seam of your shirt meet. This would be the target area. She would take her thumb and with a pushing motion, push hard into the other person’s ribs.  This will create space between your daughter and the date. Tell her to say whatever she wants to get the point across. It won’t hurt them but it does bruise their ego and they will let go. Moms, this is a great tip to hang on to. You might just find it useful at the next family get together!
If the date doesn’t let go and it’s a continual problem, that could be one of the first signs that this person could be a danger to your daughter. After they have been dating awhile always watch for changes in your daughter’s personality and habits. Does it seem like she is covering up more than usual? It’s something you never want to think about but she could be covering bruises. Don’t ever think it can’t happen to your family because it can.
Many times when a girl faces an unruly situation or an attack in her relationship she may be hesitant to say anything or completely reluctant to reporting it in any fashion. Let me say this… If the person causing the harm is starting at an early age it’s likely not going to get better as they grow older. Your daughter may feel betrayed or humiliated that she has to talk about it but she needs to understand that she could be saving a life in the future.  As a parent if someone were harming my daughter I would react very quickly and demand answers. Speak up and tell your daughter it’s ok to do the same!
The safety tips in this article and many others can be found on our Simple Self Defense for Women DVD. Please visit our website www.simpleselfdefenseforwomen.com for more details."
***
Tracy and Charley Vega are the founders of Simple Self Defense for Children, Teens and Women, an award winning company that promotes the personal safety through their PBS TV Show, Keynote Speaking, DVD’s and their popular seminars in which they criss-cross the country speaking to different companies and organizations. 

Their entertaining and lively personal safety lessons have previously been featured on Lifetime television’s “The Balancing Act,” SheKnows TV, CBS 6 News, ABC 2 News, WNZF Radio, The John Tesh Radio Show, The Daily Buzz, The Daytona News Journal, Channel 13 News, My Bliss Magazine, Power Women Magazine & Radio show & numerous others.

Votes for Vixens up for Book of the Month on TBR Pile

I'd appreciate the votes. Hoping many of you have read it.

My light f/f historical novella about suffragettes in NYC warranted a 5-star rating on TBR Pile and is up for book of the month. See the poll to the right of their website.

What they had to say:
"Freaking fabulous! This time period isn’t used often and that’s such a shame. The author did a stunning job with the details and language. It really made me feel like I jumped back in time. Elizabeth was a very well written character. She was someone I wanted to see succeed in life."
You'll have to visit their site for the entire review.
Thanks for all the support! 

Tips from Tara: Don't Be A Twit!

I'm seeing lots of posts like this lately, and I just have to add my own two cents. 

I use social networking a lot, but lately, some things have been grating on my nerves. It seemed like a good post. I could go on and on about DOs, but I'm still learning them myself. But I def figured out a few DON'Ts just by watching. And most of my quibbles are about Twitter.

When someone follows you on Twitter, DO NOT immediately DM them and say, "Thank you for the follow. Please follow my blog and FB page too...*insert link*"

Rude much?

Don't be pushy. Let people get to know you at their own pace. You want to post a mass thing that says, "I have a new FB page. Would appreciate the follow," that's one thing. Directly messaging someone who doesn't know you yet... Just. Don't.

DO (I had one!) talk about something besides your book. Talk about a blog post that has nothing to do with your book. Share an article. I get tired of seeing the same book mentioned twenty times a day.

There is such a thing as OVER-promoing. I won't name names, but I'm so sick to death of seeing certain titles mentioned every 5 minutes on Twitter or FB, I swear to the goddess, I will never read a single one of them and they could be the greatest thing since Coca Cola...or chocolate.

DON'T correct people's spelling on Twitter. Someone was probably excited, strung to the breaking point, perhaps they had 5,000 things to do, and shoot, in their haste, they misspelled a word. Let it go. As long as their book is edited, let them tweet like normal people. Not everyone has a phD.

And now I'm going to talk about another site...

You wrote an erotic romance series... YAY! It got published. Good for you! You think it's hot and sexy. *throws confetti* You discovered Pinterest. Oh dear.

I'm just going to say this. While I'm not a prude, I DO NOT want to see people fornicating every single time I open my Pinterest account. Keep that in mind. We don't need photo after photo of your hero diddling your heroine...in the tub...on the rug...on the top of a car...

Post a bit and then take a break.

That's my advice for the day. Don't let the fact you're behind an avatar give you leave to be rude. 

Below is the slot for YOUR two cents. Let's hear what you have to say.

Can Authors Be Reviewers?

Today I have a question for my readers and my author friends.

This has been weighing on me for some time. I feel as though I've been walking a very fine line. Before I was a writer, I was and still am a reader, and I was voracious! Four books a week. For the last seven years I have posted my honest thoughts on Amazon, LibraryThing, Goodreads, and Blogger.

I don't want that to change. I LOVE reading. I LOVE posting my two cents about a book. I LOVE helping authors I feel have wrote a good book and I love sharing that book.

But occasionally, I read a book I don't enjoy so much. I post those too!

Here is my question/dilemma:

I don't do fake reviews. If I read a book in its entirety and I don't like it, I say so. Sometimes I'll realize in advance a book is not for me and I won't finish it. I normally just mark the book DNF then. Really, life is too short and there are too many other good books to read to waste my time.  But again, if I read it, I say what I thought.

I have even gone so far as to email friends of mine and say, "I don't like your book. Are you sure you want me to review this? At the moment, I think it's best that I don't finish, because if I finish, I'm not giving it a good review."

It's a tad awkward, sending this email, but I do it.

In the last seven years, I've earned a following on my honest book reviews.

But since I've become a writer, I've noticed a change in attitude. I feel as though both sides are watching me with hawk eyes.

The readers expect honest reviews, and I deliver that. BUT then there are those few that eye my less-than-glowing reviews and say, "Oh yeah? You think you could write this better?"

The curse of being writer and reviewer.

When is okay for an author to write a bad review? Is it always construed as something personal? Is it okay for a romance writer to not like another romance writer's book?

To not write honest reviews would lose the respect of my followers. To write honest reviews often earns me scorn from other authors.

Thoughts?

Strong is Sexy Heroine of the Week: Eleanor Elder

Book: Feud
Author: Derek Birks
Heroine: Eleanor Elder


She is a young, beautiful, strong willed redhead who regards herself as the equal of any man. For the later middle ages she is unconventional – even outrageous.
She has had a largely misspent youth but it is brought to an abrupt halt in 1459 as the Wars of the Roses begin. Eleanor’s family is attacked by the Radcliffes, a neighbouring family out to settle old scores. Her father and eldest brother are killed and the estates seized. Eleanor is captured and sent to a nunnery where the Prioress harbours a grudge against the Elder family and Eleanor, to say the least, finds life difficult. Eleanor’s struggle mirrors that of her brother, Ned, who is fighting for his life in the wars and her sister who is forced into a marriage with one of the Radcliffes.  
She is prepared to tough it out with anyone and use her body as a weapon if need be. She takes no prisoners. However, her strength lies in her sheer will to survive and her determination to overcome her enemies to be reunited with her brother and sister.
It would be a massive spoiler to include a description of her pivotal role in the denouement of the story – so I won’t! But the extract below I think gives an accurate impression of her inner strength.Blurb: When Ned Elder’s father and brother are murdered and his sisters abducted by his brutal neighbours the Radcliffes, the young knight is forced to flee from his home. His sister Emma is torn from the quiet harmony of her household and forced into marriage. Eleanor, her wild and beautiful younger sister, is condemned to austere imprisonment in a remote nunnery. However, neither Ned nor his sisters are willing to concede all to the Radcliffes without a fight. And so the feud begins …

But in 1459 England stands on the brink of chaos as the most powerful nobleman in the land, Richard of York, and the weak king, Henry of Lancaster, prepare to settle their differences on the battlefield. 

The fate of Ned and those dear to him hangs upon more than just his skill with a sword, but on the courage and tenacity of his sisters and the small band who travel with him, as the feud of Elders and Radcliffes is played out amid the blood and misery of civil war.
Excerpt:The Nunnery in North Wales, November 1460  A small bead of perspiration dropped from her forehead and splashed onto the stone floor; in the darkness Eleanor couldn’t see it but she knew the growing damp patch would be there. She flexed her arms, forcing her body up and then lowering it again; raising, lowering, raising again, relentlessly working her body as more sweat accumulated beneath her. Soon she could smell it, just as she could feel the sinews stretch and bend, for in the hours of the night she could indulge her senses: she could feel and she could dream.   But during the day she conformed. She hated it but she conformed. She attended the procession of daily services and carried out her work, which was usually spinning and always tedious. The first months had depressed her: there was so much silence – she thought she might drown in the silence. If it wasn’t silence then it was listening to some turgid reading. Well, she didn’t exactly listen.   In those early, angry days Edwina had kept her apart from the other inmates and put her in a tiny cell on her own. Yet it was not quite the penance the prioress had intended, for in time Eleanor filled her nights alone with everything the church condemned most. It started on a warm autumn night when she removed her woollen habit and wimple and in the darkness explored her naked body; she was distressed to discover that in only a month or so it had become soft and flaccid.  So at once she lay down on the cold stone by her bed and began to exercise her limbs. That night she carried on until she could no longer push herself up from the floor.   Now, on this cool November night almost a year later, her body was trimmed to lean muscle: her jaw was tight, honing a hard edge to her face and her legs were as strong and supple as willow. She ceased her exertions and reached in the pitch black for the bowl of water. She cupped the water into her hands and poured it over her hair so that it trickled down cold onto her warm back and breasts. Then she wiped off the water and sweat with a linen cloth and lay down on her bed pulling a single blanket over her. Her body was still tingling and she ached for Will. She had learned much from the Yoredale midwife about being with a man, but it turned out that the most useful thing the old woman had confided in her was how to do without a man: ‘my dear young lady, you’d be surprised what you can do with oil - a little oil can go a very long way.’ Indeed it could and when she went to the chapel for Matins in the small hours of the morning she was still glowing.

Giveaway! Opposites Attract by Lacey Wolfe

Opposites Attract by Lacey WolfeBook 4 in the Hot Bods series

Francesca thought she knew what she wanted in life until one stormy night when she got a blast from the past.When Randy receives a call at his auto shop one night from a woman whose car has broken down and needs a tow, he never imagined he'd be coming face-to-face with his high school sweetheart. Randy has never loved a woman the way he loved Francesca, but she broke his heart, claiming he could never provide the life she was determined to have. That was years ago, but he's still bitter about the way she tossed him aside.
Seeing Randy again, Francesca realizes what a mistake it was to breakup with him. She'd like to try to rekindle the old flame, and she can tell he's still attracted to her too, but every time they're together, all they do is argue. Can she convince Randy she isn't the girl he remembers and that she can settle for love even if it comes without money?Content Warning: explicit sex

Excerpt:Randy cleared his throat, hoping to break the tension between him and Francesca. The way she was looking at him, he was worried she was about to pounce. It was taking everything in him to not walk over there and kiss her.
Picking up a work towel, he wiped his hands on it and then directed her toward the front office. She walked in front of him and it was his turn to devour her ass. And hot damn, the jeans she wore were tight and molded to her butt perfectly. Her pants hugged her legs all the way down. She wore black boots that came to her knees. He wasn't sure what shirt she wore, because his eyes had yet to make it past her luscious behind.
Once in the office, he stepped around her, getting a whiff of a very tempting smell. He quickly sat and scooted under the desk as far as he could. He was hard and didn't want her to see. Francesca took a seat in front of him and he now noticed her pink tank top that was cut low enough he got a hint of cleavage. Inhaling again, he wondered what perfume she used. It really was igniting his senses.
"I spent some time looking at your car today. When was the last time you had an oil change?" he asked.
"It's been awhile."
"I can tell. And how long has the car been leaking oil?"
She shrugged. "Not sure. I wasn't concerned since it was just little drops here and there."
"Those little drops here and there add up. You almost had no oil in your car. And I hate to tell you, but you have torn up your engine."
"Well, can't you just pop a new one in and it'll be good as new?" she asked.
"I wish it was that simple. Here, look this over." He slid a sheet of paper across the desk. "The top portion has to be done, the middle is recommended, and the bottom is optional. The price is on there too."
Her eyes widened as she read over the paper. She then glanced up at him. "This can't be right."
"I'm afraid it is. You haven't taken very good care of the car."
"I get it washed and detailed all the time. I take very good care of it."
Randy shook his head. "There's a lot more to a vehicle than just its appearance. You've got to take care of the things people don't see too."
She was quiet for a moment and then finally spoke. "I don't know if I can afford this."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't you have some rich man who can pay for it?" He regretted saying it the moment it left his lips.
Francesca's mouth fell open and he could see the shock on her face.
"I'm so—" he started to apologize.
"I can't believe you would say that, Randall. You of all people," she snapped."Me of all people," he repeated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? If I recall correctly, you dumped me because you wanted a rich man to take care of you. Tell me, how is that working out for you?"
Francesca stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and leaned forward slightly. As much as he hated it, his focus darted in for a peek inside her shirt.
"I'll have you know that I'm not the gold digger you think I am," she argued.
"I bet you refuse to date any man whose income level doesn't meet your standards. Tell me, why haven't you married one of them yet?"
"Why aren't you married? Can't find a girl who will have you as a husband?"
Randy stood and stepped around the desk. "I haven't found anyone else who can start my engines the way you could." He rubbed the back of his fingers on her upper arm. "Haven't you found a rich guy yet who can kiss you breathless?"

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About the Author: 
Lacey Wolfe has always had a passion for words, whether it’s getting lost in a book or writing her own. From the time she was a child she would slip away to write short stories about people she knew and fantasies she wished would happen. It has always been her dream to be a published author and with her two children now of school age, she finally has the time to work on making her dream come true.

Lacey lives in Georgia with her husband, son and daughter, their six cats and one black lab who rules the house.
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