Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 47
March 23, 2015
The Varsity Letter
The Princess received a varsity letter in swimming last night. Apparently, she’s a good swimmer. Now, before you go thinking I’m a horrible mother for thinking that, much less writing it here for the four of you to read, hear me out.
I think she’s the most amazing kid to walk this earth. She hangs my moon and her sister hangs my stars. In my eyes, she’s the brightest, kindest, strongest girl ever born. But I’m her mom. I’m supposed to think that.
She’s loved swimming since the time I decided to brave having people see my 6-month-post-baby body in a swim suit, signed up for a baby swim class and prayed that the pregnant woman who still wore a belt during those pregnancy classes I took wasn’t in it. She wasn’t, but lots of new parents with babies were. And the Princess was the only one in the class who laid back in my arms in the water, folded her arms behind her head, crossed her legs and went to sleep every time she entered the water.
All the other babies screamed or splashed or stiffened their bodies. The Princess smiled and drifted off to sleep. I thought she was amazing.
Once we graduated from baby swim/sleeping class, we moved onto actual swimming classes, where instead of sleeping, she had to learn to swim. Or as I said, not to drown. She took classes once a week, every week, until I was convinced that she could approach a body of water and not drown. We finally stopped in middle school. It takes a lot to convince me. But I sat and watched her swim and she was fast and smooth in the water. I thought she was amazing.
When she was about to enter high school, she told me she wanted to join the swim team. So we took private lessons ahead of time to make sure she was ready—I was pretty confident at that point she probably wouldn’t drown, but decided the extra money for swim lessons was worth it if it ensured it. It did and she didn’t. I watched her swim endless laps and thought she looked like a warm knife slicing through butter. I thought she was amazing.
She joined the swim team, and I was no longer allowed to watch her swim. Ever. Not a practice and not a meet. She went to practice six days a week and swam in a few meets. Having nothing to compare her to, I still thought she was amazing.
And then we had to take time off for back surgery and recovery. I won’t even say here how amazing I thought she was through all of that. I hope she’s never quite as amazing again.
She went back to the swim team this year very rusty. She had to relearn all of her strokes, since she no longer swam with a curved spine and that, apparently, affects everything. But she did it, and her coach thought she was amazing enough to get a letter.
It’s no longer just me.
I think she’s the most amazing kid to walk this earth. She hangs my moon and her sister hangs my stars. In my eyes, she’s the brightest, kindest, strongest girl ever born. But I’m her mom. I’m supposed to think that.
She’s loved swimming since the time I decided to brave having people see my 6-month-post-baby body in a swim suit, signed up for a baby swim class and prayed that the pregnant woman who still wore a belt during those pregnancy classes I took wasn’t in it. She wasn’t, but lots of new parents with babies were. And the Princess was the only one in the class who laid back in my arms in the water, folded her arms behind her head, crossed her legs and went to sleep every time she entered the water.
All the other babies screamed or splashed or stiffened their bodies. The Princess smiled and drifted off to sleep. I thought she was amazing.
Once we graduated from baby swim/sleeping class, we moved onto actual swimming classes, where instead of sleeping, she had to learn to swim. Or as I said, not to drown. She took classes once a week, every week, until I was convinced that she could approach a body of water and not drown. We finally stopped in middle school. It takes a lot to convince me. But I sat and watched her swim and she was fast and smooth in the water. I thought she was amazing.
When she was about to enter high school, she told me she wanted to join the swim team. So we took private lessons ahead of time to make sure she was ready—I was pretty confident at that point she probably wouldn’t drown, but decided the extra money for swim lessons was worth it if it ensured it. It did and she didn’t. I watched her swim endless laps and thought she looked like a warm knife slicing through butter. I thought she was amazing.
She joined the swim team, and I was no longer allowed to watch her swim. Ever. Not a practice and not a meet. She went to practice six days a week and swam in a few meets. Having nothing to compare her to, I still thought she was amazing.
And then we had to take time off for back surgery and recovery. I won’t even say here how amazing I thought she was through all of that. I hope she’s never quite as amazing again.
She went back to the swim team this year very rusty. She had to relearn all of her strokes, since she no longer swam with a curved spine and that, apparently, affects everything. But she did it, and her coach thought she was amazing enough to get a letter.
It’s no longer just me.
March 20, 2015
Hot For Friday Weekly Blog Hop
Today I'm participating in the Book Boyfriend's Cafe weekly Hot For Friday Blog Hop. The theme for this week is "Hot Encounters." Below is an excerpt from my just-rereleased contemporary romance, Skin Deep:
She arranged and rearranged drawers and tools. The trailer contained three stations, each with its own make-up chair. A long table ran down one wall, with plenty of drawers for storage space. Well-lit mirrors hung above the table. Unable to find anything else to do, and convinced by the silence that everyone had to have left, she took out her keys to lock up. She jumped as a knock sounded at the door, the trailer rattled and a head peeked in.“Valerie?”“Oh, hi, John.” She expelled a deep breath and willed her heart to slow its frantic beat. “Do you need something?” “No.” He entered and stood by the door. John Samuels played the lead. At almost six-foot three, he dwarfed the trailer and had to tip his head to fit. He folded his muscular arms across his chest and spread his feet apart. “Michelle told me you were not joining us tonight. I thought I would see if I could change your mind.”Valerie rolled her eyes. “She’s persistent.”“You noticed.” John’s dark eyes twinkled. His mouth widened with a ghost of a smile. Valerie tried not to gasp. He reminded her of a rugged cowboy — broad-shouldered, with a prominent brow, dark piercing eyes, high cheekbones, and a cleft chin. When he smiled, even a slight trace of one, his eyes looked like liquid velvet and his dimples twinkled like stars in the night sky. A five o’clock shadow covered his cheeks. Her fingers itched to brush against their rough texture, to tease his mouth into a full-blown grin. “So, what can I say to make you join us?” As he leaned against the wall in well-fitting jeans and a T-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, Valerie’s mind said, “Sleep with me.” Heat crept up her neck, over her cheeks and continued to the roots of her hair. A thin sheen of sweat dampened the space between her breasts. She felt the sudden urge to fan herself, like a damsel in distress in an old B-movie. Instead, she ignored her traitorous thoughts. Her balled fist pressed into her tight stomach. “Tonight, not even chocolate will change my mind.”She didn’t exactly lie. She had no intention of going to the bar, or of sleeping with him, no matter how her thoughts might try to sabotage her good intentions. She’d been fooled by surface finery before, and it had almost killed her. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
“I will remember that,” he promised. “But next time you will not get off so easy.” His eyes bored into hers for a moment, and then he turned on his heel and left.
Want to participate next week or check out other participating authors? Click here.
She arranged and rearranged drawers and tools. The trailer contained three stations, each with its own make-up chair. A long table ran down one wall, with plenty of drawers for storage space. Well-lit mirrors hung above the table. Unable to find anything else to do, and convinced by the silence that everyone had to have left, she took out her keys to lock up. She jumped as a knock sounded at the door, the trailer rattled and a head peeked in.“Valerie?”“Oh, hi, John.” She expelled a deep breath and willed her heart to slow its frantic beat. “Do you need something?” “No.” He entered and stood by the door. John Samuels played the lead. At almost six-foot three, he dwarfed the trailer and had to tip his head to fit. He folded his muscular arms across his chest and spread his feet apart. “Michelle told me you were not joining us tonight. I thought I would see if I could change your mind.”Valerie rolled her eyes. “She’s persistent.”“You noticed.” John’s dark eyes twinkled. His mouth widened with a ghost of a smile. Valerie tried not to gasp. He reminded her of a rugged cowboy — broad-shouldered, with a prominent brow, dark piercing eyes, high cheekbones, and a cleft chin. When he smiled, even a slight trace of one, his eyes looked like liquid velvet and his dimples twinkled like stars in the night sky. A five o’clock shadow covered his cheeks. Her fingers itched to brush against their rough texture, to tease his mouth into a full-blown grin. “So, what can I say to make you join us?” As he leaned against the wall in well-fitting jeans and a T-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, Valerie’s mind said, “Sleep with me.” Heat crept up her neck, over her cheeks and continued to the roots of her hair. A thin sheen of sweat dampened the space between her breasts. She felt the sudden urge to fan herself, like a damsel in distress in an old B-movie. Instead, she ignored her traitorous thoughts. Her balled fist pressed into her tight stomach. “Tonight, not even chocolate will change my mind.”She didn’t exactly lie. She had no intention of going to the bar, or of sleeping with him, no matter how her thoughts might try to sabotage her good intentions. She’d been fooled by surface finery before, and it had almost killed her. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
“I will remember that,” he promised. “But next time you will not get off so easy.” His eyes bored into hers for a moment, and then he turned on his heel and left.
Want to participate next week or check out other participating authors? Click here.
March 16, 2015
My Friend Has A Book Birthday
Today I'm welcoming my friend Denisea Kampe to my blog, to celebrate her book birthday. This is a thing writers do when we want to drum up some publicity for our existing books--we "celebrate" its release day anniversary, or birthday. So, read what she says, check out her book, and maybe even have a slice of cake!
Five Years and I Still Love It (And Now…It’s Only $0.99!)This month mark’s the five year anniversary of signing that first contract and I can still remember the excitement and dancing around the room. I also remember the shock factor of all the publishing world actually entails and later the oh crap feeling when I realized my first baby, The Executive Officer’s Wife, wasn’t all it could have been. Over the course of the past five years, The Executive Officer’s Wife has undergone some serious editing and is now in its second edition, a MUCH better rendition and telling of Libby and Chase’s story. Not only has it undergone major surgery, it managed to spawn a few questions from my readers, like what the heck happened to…fill in a secondary character’s name here. I’m happy to announce, some of my readers are going to be VERY happy to find out, a series has been spawned off The Executive Officer’s Wife and the first book, Parallax, is in its final stages before going off to the editor. I’m also happy to say, I still love my first baby and I still love writing.The good news is, if you haven’t read The Executive Officer’s Wife, now is a great time! In celebration of its five year anniversary, it’s
on sale at Amazon for Kindle for $0.99
for the entire month of March.Target: Libby Calhoun. She’s independent and strong-willed, the daughter of a near infamous Marine Corps sniper. Libby’s been raised by the resident housekeeper, has learned to take care of herself over the years and doesn’t take crap off anyone. She’s also sassy and pretty darn cute. After one failed marriage she’s not in the market for love, a husband or any semblance of children. One night of hot sex should do it but that pesky situation with her father is making that near impossible.
Security Agent: Chase Wayland. He’s not looking for love either but his golden-eyes sure can lure a girl in. Chase is a former Marine turned owner of his own security firm. He also has a failed marriage under his belt and trust isn’t in his vocabulary. There’s only one way in Chase’s world and that’s his way, whether anyone else agrees or not.
Can these two live under the same roof after the incident? Chase seems to think so, as long as they ignore each other, play by his strict 'business only' policy and he makes Libby hate him. Libby thinks so, too, but she wants to do things her way. And her way means Chase’s resolve to be a good guy will be stretched to its limits, especially when she takes to the town in her red boots…Please enjoy an excerpt…“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you red boots would get you in trouble?” a familiar deep voice whispered into her hair.Whirling around, her eyes met Chase’s. “Yeah, he tried to warn me several times. Obviously it didn’t stick.”Grabbing the now full tray, she left the station. She deposited the officer’s drinks on their table and returned to pick up a couple of drafts for another crew while Chase leaned on the bar watching her every move.“How long did it take to figure out where I went?” she asked, taking a couple of napkins from the pile beside her tray.“About as long as it took for me to follow you here,” Chase told her, pushing his Stetson back.“You were behind me? Here I thought I might have actually made a clean getaway.” She trotted off again and on the third trip back saw him talking Murray.Great, they’ll probably band together on this.“It’s probably going to be hard to get that jar filled on this side of the bar,” Chase said, his attention back on her. His eyes roamed her from head to toe leaving a path of flames licking along Libby’s skin. She hoped her outfit was driving him crazy. “Need any help?”“Not from you,” she snapped. It was then she noticed Trent and Phil at the end of the bar watching with what seemed to her to be pure amusement. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. “Kandy, can you take this one out for me?”Libby left the tray and turning on her heel, she headed for the karaoke stage. Grabbing the microphone that started her troubles with Chase in the first place, she returned to the bar and climbed on top of it.“Good evening gentlemen,” Libby said in the sultriest voice she could summon. Seductively strolling along the bar’s length, she was greeted with whistles and barks. “You all know my bodyguard by now I’m sure.” She pointed at Chase with the mic. “A few weeks ago he answered a challenge to fill my jar. Well tonight he’s challenged me. He seems to think I can’t fill it working the floor.”Booing and groaning erupted as Libby watched Chase scowl at her and adjust his Stetson even higher. He looked up at her and took a visible breath.“Last time I believe you all wasted your hard earned pay so he’d be able to, what was it? Dance with me, I believe? That won’t be happening this time. Tonight I’m up for auction. It’s payday, fellas, so dig deep. Whoever wins won’t be paying for someone else to hold me.” Libby finished her little speech and smirked at Chase.Murray shook his head and Chase took a seat on the stool next to where Libby stood. Murmurs ran through the bar as guys counted, and in some cases pooled, their funds. She knew not one of them that would actually take her up on the holding her bit except maybe the new Lieutenant who didn’t know any better.“Now then, who’ll start?” Silence ensued. “Come on, don’t be shy. You all know what this jar’s for. Okay. How about fifty dollars? Anyone?” Libby prompted, shaking her hips and licking her lips playfully.“I’ve got fifty,” one of the enlisted men shouted from a corner.“A hundred….one-fifty over here…” And it went on and on until finally the new Lieutenant stood on his table and exuberantly shouted, “One thousand dollars!”Everyone grew silent. Libby looked down at Chase and saw the agitation churning in his eyes.Standing up, he stared Milner down as he crossed his arms over his puffed up chest and calmly proclaimed, “Five thousand dollars.”Libby’s mouth fell open and she dropped her hands to her sides. No one could top that. He wasn’t supposed to win.When all the mumbling died down and no one challenged Chase’s outlandish bid, he coolly turned, took her by the waist and lifted her down from the bar. “I’ll go to the bank in the morning and get the money.” He slipped two fingers in her front pocket retrieving her car keys, burning her with the golden inferno in his eyes. Finding them after grazing the edge of her hip where her panties stopped and her skin started, he tossed them at Phil. “Drive her car home.”Leaning over, Chase placed his shoulder at her waist, grabbed her by the legs, and hoisted her up and over his back. With her dangling over his muscular shoulders, begging to be put down after realizing her plan had backfired, he strode across the floor and out the door. A sickening round of ooh-rah’sfollowed them.You can get your Kindle copy of The Executive Officer’s Wife for only $0.99 through the end of March at: http://tinyurl.com/p3yzqgt I’d like to thank my hostess today and thank all of her readers for stopping by! You can find me at my blog, Ubiquitous Musings, at Script Chics, or on Facebook.Happy reading!Denisea Kampe
Writing one realmantic moment at a time…
Five Years and I Still Love It (And Now…It’s Only $0.99!)This month mark’s the five year anniversary of signing that first contract and I can still remember the excitement and dancing around the room. I also remember the shock factor of all the publishing world actually entails and later the oh crap feeling when I realized my first baby, The Executive Officer’s Wife, wasn’t all it could have been. Over the course of the past five years, The Executive Officer’s Wife has undergone some serious editing and is now in its second edition, a MUCH better rendition and telling of Libby and Chase’s story. Not only has it undergone major surgery, it managed to spawn a few questions from my readers, like what the heck happened to…fill in a secondary character’s name here. I’m happy to announce, some of my readers are going to be VERY happy to find out, a series has been spawned off The Executive Officer’s Wife and the first book, Parallax, is in its final stages before going off to the editor. I’m also happy to say, I still love my first baby and I still love writing.The good news is, if you haven’t read The Executive Officer’s Wife, now is a great time! In celebration of its five year anniversary, it’s
on sale at Amazon for Kindle for $0.99
for the entire month of March.Target: Libby Calhoun. She’s independent and strong-willed, the daughter of a near infamous Marine Corps sniper. Libby’s been raised by the resident housekeeper, has learned to take care of herself over the years and doesn’t take crap off anyone. She’s also sassy and pretty darn cute. After one failed marriage she’s not in the market for love, a husband or any semblance of children. One night of hot sex should do it but that pesky situation with her father is making that near impossible. Security Agent: Chase Wayland. He’s not looking for love either but his golden-eyes sure can lure a girl in. Chase is a former Marine turned owner of his own security firm. He also has a failed marriage under his belt and trust isn’t in his vocabulary. There’s only one way in Chase’s world and that’s his way, whether anyone else agrees or not.
Can these two live under the same roof after the incident? Chase seems to think so, as long as they ignore each other, play by his strict 'business only' policy and he makes Libby hate him. Libby thinks so, too, but she wants to do things her way. And her way means Chase’s resolve to be a good guy will be stretched to its limits, especially when she takes to the town in her red boots…Please enjoy an excerpt…“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you red boots would get you in trouble?” a familiar deep voice whispered into her hair.Whirling around, her eyes met Chase’s. “Yeah, he tried to warn me several times. Obviously it didn’t stick.”Grabbing the now full tray, she left the station. She deposited the officer’s drinks on their table and returned to pick up a couple of drafts for another crew while Chase leaned on the bar watching her every move.“How long did it take to figure out where I went?” she asked, taking a couple of napkins from the pile beside her tray.“About as long as it took for me to follow you here,” Chase told her, pushing his Stetson back.“You were behind me? Here I thought I might have actually made a clean getaway.” She trotted off again and on the third trip back saw him talking Murray.Great, they’ll probably band together on this.“It’s probably going to be hard to get that jar filled on this side of the bar,” Chase said, his attention back on her. His eyes roamed her from head to toe leaving a path of flames licking along Libby’s skin. She hoped her outfit was driving him crazy. “Need any help?”“Not from you,” she snapped. It was then she noticed Trent and Phil at the end of the bar watching with what seemed to her to be pure amusement. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. “Kandy, can you take this one out for me?”Libby left the tray and turning on her heel, she headed for the karaoke stage. Grabbing the microphone that started her troubles with Chase in the first place, she returned to the bar and climbed on top of it.“Good evening gentlemen,” Libby said in the sultriest voice she could summon. Seductively strolling along the bar’s length, she was greeted with whistles and barks. “You all know my bodyguard by now I’m sure.” She pointed at Chase with the mic. “A few weeks ago he answered a challenge to fill my jar. Well tonight he’s challenged me. He seems to think I can’t fill it working the floor.”Booing and groaning erupted as Libby watched Chase scowl at her and adjust his Stetson even higher. He looked up at her and took a visible breath.“Last time I believe you all wasted your hard earned pay so he’d be able to, what was it? Dance with me, I believe? That won’t be happening this time. Tonight I’m up for auction. It’s payday, fellas, so dig deep. Whoever wins won’t be paying for someone else to hold me.” Libby finished her little speech and smirked at Chase.Murray shook his head and Chase took a seat on the stool next to where Libby stood. Murmurs ran through the bar as guys counted, and in some cases pooled, their funds. She knew not one of them that would actually take her up on the holding her bit except maybe the new Lieutenant who didn’t know any better.“Now then, who’ll start?” Silence ensued. “Come on, don’t be shy. You all know what this jar’s for. Okay. How about fifty dollars? Anyone?” Libby prompted, shaking her hips and licking her lips playfully.“I’ve got fifty,” one of the enlisted men shouted from a corner.“A hundred….one-fifty over here…” And it went on and on until finally the new Lieutenant stood on his table and exuberantly shouted, “One thousand dollars!”Everyone grew silent. Libby looked down at Chase and saw the agitation churning in his eyes.Standing up, he stared Milner down as he crossed his arms over his puffed up chest and calmly proclaimed, “Five thousand dollars.”Libby’s mouth fell open and she dropped her hands to her sides. No one could top that. He wasn’t supposed to win.When all the mumbling died down and no one challenged Chase’s outlandish bid, he coolly turned, took her by the waist and lifted her down from the bar. “I’ll go to the bank in the morning and get the money.” He slipped two fingers in her front pocket retrieving her car keys, burning her with the golden inferno in his eyes. Finding them after grazing the edge of her hip where her panties stopped and her skin started, he tossed them at Phil. “Drive her car home.”Leaning over, Chase placed his shoulder at her waist, grabbed her by the legs, and hoisted her up and over his back. With her dangling over his muscular shoulders, begging to be put down after realizing her plan had backfired, he strode across the floor and out the door. A sickening round of ooh-rah’sfollowed them.You can get your Kindle copy of The Executive Officer’s Wife for only $0.99 through the end of March at: http://tinyurl.com/p3yzqgt I’d like to thank my hostess today and thank all of her readers for stopping by! You can find me at my blog, Ubiquitous Musings, at Script Chics, or on Facebook.Happy reading!Denisea Kampe
Writing one realmantic moment at a time…
March 11, 2015
New Release by Joanne C. Berroa
While I'm off visiting blogs this week, to celebrate the re-release of Skin Deep, I'm also hosting several guests. Today, Joanne and I are switching places. I'm visiting her here. And she's visiting me, talking about her newest release. Read on for more!
My new release: The Diamond Legacy is the sequel to my popular: The Diamond Cross, but can also be enjoyed as a stand alone romance. It’s near and dear to my heart, so let me tell you a little bit about it.
BLURB:The year 1907 finds Heather and Brenton Emery celebrating seven years of blissful marriage. They are anything but the average couple. The son of Hungarian immigrants, Brenton owns and manages a thriving, top-notch Saratoga Springs hotel and vaudeville pavilion with his partner-wife Heather. She’s an entrepreneur in her own right. Blessed with a keen business sense, she’s made millions of dollars in her undertakings.
But they soon learn even the best marriages have problems, and their commitment to each other is sorely tested. A charismatic billionaire makes Heather an offer she simply can’t refuse. Given the opportunity to spread her wings thousands of miles away from home, she must choose between marriage and her career. Her choice stuns Brenton. Will the handsome and brilliant San Francisco architect Heather joins forces with succeed in rendering the coup de grace on Heather’s now tenuous marriage?
To further complicate matters, Brenton’s secretary is astute and alluring. Heather’s plans fit her agenda nicely. Brenton is faced with the question: How far can a business friendship stretch before it is no longer just friendship?
The Diamond Legacy is a romance saga packed with bold, colorful characters and surprising twists that will tear at your heartstrings. Can Brenton’s and Heather’s love for each other rise above all odds and endure, or is love sometimes not enough?
EXCERPT:
“Care to comment on this.” He held the papers up for her to see.“Can’t you read? I’m suing you for divorce.”“You couldn’t tell me yourself. You had to get your lawyer to do it. You’re a cheat and a coward. I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. You’re an evil woman. You’re so devious, you probably even caused John’s heart attack. Did you slip a packet of strychnine into his coffee, little black widow spider!”She slapped him hard. “I hate you! You’re pathetic. Your dick is smaller than my little finger.”“Is it? How would you know, my pretty? You haven’t seen it in a damned year!”“I’m sure you’ve been showing it off to lots of other women.”“You should talk. You’ve been sleeping around with that architect and who knows whom else? Which of your lovers lives here with you, bitch?”Her eyes shown puzzlement. “What are you talking about?” she snarled.“The men’s clothing in your bedroom! Are you going to deny it?”Her eyes widened and she relaxed a bit. “No, I’m not. I happen to love that man.”“So you admit it! You’re having an affair!” Brenton clenched his teeth together. “So he’s the real reason you’re divorcing me. If not him, then it’s the architect. I swear, bitch, I can’t keep your lovers straight.”“You’re a pigheaded ass, Brenton Emery. For your information, the man who’s staying with me is my father.”
You can purchase The Diamond Legacy (and my other romances) from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and All Romance ebooks.
www.joannecberroa.wordpress.comwww.joannecberroa.blogspot.com
Amazon
My new release: The Diamond Legacy is the sequel to my popular: The Diamond Cross, but can also be enjoyed as a stand alone romance. It’s near and dear to my heart, so let me tell you a little bit about it.
BLURB:The year 1907 finds Heather and Brenton Emery celebrating seven years of blissful marriage. They are anything but the average couple. The son of Hungarian immigrants, Brenton owns and manages a thriving, top-notch Saratoga Springs hotel and vaudeville pavilion with his partner-wife Heather. She’s an entrepreneur in her own right. Blessed with a keen business sense, she’s made millions of dollars in her undertakings.
But they soon learn even the best marriages have problems, and their commitment to each other is sorely tested. A charismatic billionaire makes Heather an offer she simply can’t refuse. Given the opportunity to spread her wings thousands of miles away from home, she must choose between marriage and her career. Her choice stuns Brenton. Will the handsome and brilliant San Francisco architect Heather joins forces with succeed in rendering the coup de grace on Heather’s now tenuous marriage?
To further complicate matters, Brenton’s secretary is astute and alluring. Heather’s plans fit her agenda nicely. Brenton is faced with the question: How far can a business friendship stretch before it is no longer just friendship?
The Diamond Legacy is a romance saga packed with bold, colorful characters and surprising twists that will tear at your heartstrings. Can Brenton’s and Heather’s love for each other rise above all odds and endure, or is love sometimes not enough?
EXCERPT:
“Care to comment on this.” He held the papers up for her to see.“Can’t you read? I’m suing you for divorce.”“You couldn’t tell me yourself. You had to get your lawyer to do it. You’re a cheat and a coward. I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. You’re an evil woman. You’re so devious, you probably even caused John’s heart attack. Did you slip a packet of strychnine into his coffee, little black widow spider!”She slapped him hard. “I hate you! You’re pathetic. Your dick is smaller than my little finger.”“Is it? How would you know, my pretty? You haven’t seen it in a damned year!”“I’m sure you’ve been showing it off to lots of other women.”“You should talk. You’ve been sleeping around with that architect and who knows whom else? Which of your lovers lives here with you, bitch?”Her eyes shown puzzlement. “What are you talking about?” she snarled.“The men’s clothing in your bedroom! Are you going to deny it?”Her eyes widened and she relaxed a bit. “No, I’m not. I happen to love that man.”“So you admit it! You’re having an affair!” Brenton clenched his teeth together. “So he’s the real reason you’re divorcing me. If not him, then it’s the architect. I swear, bitch, I can’t keep your lovers straight.”“You’re a pigheaded ass, Brenton Emery. For your information, the man who’s staying with me is my father.”
You can purchase The Diamond Legacy (and my other romances) from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and All Romance ebooks.
www.joannecberroa.wordpress.comwww.joannecberroa.blogspot.com
Amazon
March 9, 2015
Skin Deep
I have a new book coming out! Sort of. It’s a re-release of a book published by my old publisher.
While I was very grateful for the opportunity to become a published author with them, I am happier with my current publisher, Rebel Ink Press. I love working with them. So, when the chance to get my rights back for my original books came up, I took it. A Heart of Little Faith was re-released in November, and Skin Deep is being re-released tomorrow.
What’s the difference? Well, I was able to go through the manuscript and make changes that I wanted to make. A new set of editing eyes went over it and flagged things that needed to be fixed. And, I had the opportunity to get a brand new cover. Now, you might wonder what was wrong with the old one. Nothing really. The old one was very pretty. But new publishers like new covers and the old cover didn’t really reflect the grittier nature of this book. The new one does. (New is on top, old is on bottom)
So, to celebrate the re-release, I’m visiting other people’s blogs this week and letting them visit mine. I hope you’ll stop by to meet these authors. They’re friends of mine, great writers and you might just find a book or two you like.
Today, I'm visiting Donna Steele.
And in the meantime, don’t forget to stop by The RomanceReviews’ 4th Anniversary Party going on this month. Lots of prizes to win and authors to meet!
While I was very grateful for the opportunity to become a published author with them, I am happier with my current publisher, Rebel Ink Press. I love working with them. So, when the chance to get my rights back for my original books came up, I took it. A Heart of Little Faith was re-released in November, and Skin Deep is being re-released tomorrow.
What’s the difference? Well, I was able to go through the manuscript and make changes that I wanted to make. A new set of editing eyes went over it and flagged things that needed to be fixed. And, I had the opportunity to get a brand new cover. Now, you might wonder what was wrong with the old one. Nothing really. The old one was very pretty. But new publishers like new covers and the old cover didn’t really reflect the grittier nature of this book. The new one does. (New is on top, old is on bottom)
So, to celebrate the re-release, I’m visiting other people’s blogs this week and letting them visit mine. I hope you’ll stop by to meet these authors. They’re friends of mine, great writers and you might just find a book or two you like.
Today, I'm visiting Donna Steele.
And in the meantime, don’t forget to stop by The RomanceReviews’ 4th Anniversary Party going on this month. Lots of prizes to win and authors to meet!
March 2, 2015
If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium
The 1969 movie, starring Ian McShane and Suzanne Pleshette, was a love story about a European tour guide who falls in love with the beautiful single lady on his bus. The title has become synonymous with being so busy, you’re not sure exactly where you are.
As a mom, that happens to me a lot. Thanks to Mother Nature this winter, however, I’m less confused. My motto this season? If it’s Monday, it must be snowing (or, if it’s snowing, this must be Monday). And inevitably, the kids are home, for at least part of the day.
It’s times like these, I’d usually retreat into Jennifer World, where everyone is exactly as I want them to be, I get to do exactly what I want, my way is the only way, and of course, there’s lots of chocolate. J It’s a made-up world of my choosing. It doesn’t exist in real life. Except…
It almost does! This week, a blogger friend is celebrating “Jennifer Week.” Seriously. Who knew that was a thing? Well, with the number of Jennifers around, maybe I should have suspected something, but how cool! I’ll be visiting her blog on Friday, talking about Miriam’s Surrender and answering her questions. You can check it out here and be sure to stop by on Tuesday as well, to visit with Jennifer Probst, another writer with an awesome name (and fabulous books, too!)
In addition to Jennifer Week, today I’m part of The RomanceReview’s 4th Anniversary party. There are more than 300 authors participating all month long and we’re all hosting games that you play in order to win prizes. You can come play my game here.
And finally, starting next week (March 9), I’m visiting and hosting lots of friends to talk about the re-release of Skin Deep (and let them talk about their new books too).
So, in other words, just like the tourists, I’m everywhere! Hope you’ll join me!
As a mom, that happens to me a lot. Thanks to Mother Nature this winter, however, I’m less confused. My motto this season? If it’s Monday, it must be snowing (or, if it’s snowing, this must be Monday). And inevitably, the kids are home, for at least part of the day.
It’s times like these, I’d usually retreat into Jennifer World, where everyone is exactly as I want them to be, I get to do exactly what I want, my way is the only way, and of course, there’s lots of chocolate. J It’s a made-up world of my choosing. It doesn’t exist in real life. Except…
It almost does! This week, a blogger friend is celebrating “Jennifer Week.” Seriously. Who knew that was a thing? Well, with the number of Jennifers around, maybe I should have suspected something, but how cool! I’ll be visiting her blog on Friday, talking about Miriam’s Surrender and answering her questions. You can check it out here and be sure to stop by on Tuesday as well, to visit with Jennifer Probst, another writer with an awesome name (and fabulous books, too!)
In addition to Jennifer Week, today I’m part of The RomanceReview’s 4th Anniversary party. There are more than 300 authors participating all month long and we’re all hosting games that you play in order to win prizes. You can come play my game here.
And finally, starting next week (March 9), I’m visiting and hosting lots of friends to talk about the re-release of Skin Deep (and let them talk about their new books too).
So, in other words, just like the tourists, I’m everywhere! Hope you’ll join me!
February 27, 2015
Blog Hop--Hot Kisses!
I’m participating in the Book Boyfriends Café HOT FOR FRIDAYS Weekly Blog Hop. This week’s prompt was “Our Characters Share A Hot Kiss.” Below is an excerpt from my book, Miriam’s Surrender.
He leaned his face toward her and she forgot to breathe. Would he kiss her? His irises darkened and focused on her mouth, as if there was nothing else worth looking at. This would not be another kiss on the cheek. His arm grasped hers and pulled her close. His hand cupped her elbow and his fingers stroked the back of her arm. Even through her coat, the pressure of his touch built and she wanted more of him. The movement of his fingers against her coat sleeve created a rasping noise, or was it the sound of her own breath? She pressed against him and fought the urge to whimper. His body heat warmed her and her knees shook. This close to him, she could see the slight shadow of stubble forming on his jaw. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. His skin was smooth, yet unlike her own. Her hand slid around the back of his neck and teased the soft hairs at his nape as he tipped her chin and brought his mouth to hers. Finally. His lips pressed against hers. They were firm, yet soft and she wanted to taste him. He kissed her as if his entire purpose was to give her the perfect kiss. He nibbled her bottom lip and she opened her mouth. With the slight bit of encouragement, his tongue traced where he’d nibbled and dipped inside her mouth. Their tongues danced, their breaths mingled and she tasted traces of vanilla from his shake. His hands slid down her arms and rested at her waist and she melted against him. He traced little circles with his thumbs and tingles ran up her spine. She played with the soft down at the base of his skull and fingered the hollow at the back of his neck. She flicked his ear and he groaned. Desire coursed through her and she reveled in her power to make him moan. Their noses touched and he reached behind for her hand and held it in his. He was warm and masculine and she wanted him. She inhaled and smelled his spicy aftershave. He pulled away and traced kisses along her jaw. She shivered and licked his neck. It tasted salty and his pulse beat beneath her mouth. He hugged her tight against him and she slipped her arms inside of his coat and around his waist. Their bodies were so close it was as if they were one. Still, she wanted to be closer.She tipped her head to the side to give him better access to her neck and his whiskers scraped the sensitive skin behind her ear. She whimpered and he trailed kisses from right below her ear to her jawline. When he pulled away, his breathing was heavy and matched her own.Their gazes met and she smiled.“How do you feel?” he asked and rested his head against hers.“Like I have been thoroughly kissed.”“That’s funny, I feel the same way.”“What a coincidence,” she said with a smile.
Did you enjoy that? I hope so. For more “hot kisses,” or to participate in next week’s bloghop, follow this link to Book Boyfriends Café. And if you’d like to read this, or any, of my books, you can follow this link.
He leaned his face toward her and she forgot to breathe. Would he kiss her? His irises darkened and focused on her mouth, as if there was nothing else worth looking at. This would not be another kiss on the cheek. His arm grasped hers and pulled her close. His hand cupped her elbow and his fingers stroked the back of her arm. Even through her coat, the pressure of his touch built and she wanted more of him. The movement of his fingers against her coat sleeve created a rasping noise, or was it the sound of her own breath? She pressed against him and fought the urge to whimper. His body heat warmed her and her knees shook. This close to him, she could see the slight shadow of stubble forming on his jaw. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. His skin was smooth, yet unlike her own. Her hand slid around the back of his neck and teased the soft hairs at his nape as he tipped her chin and brought his mouth to hers. Finally. His lips pressed against hers. They were firm, yet soft and she wanted to taste him. He kissed her as if his entire purpose was to give her the perfect kiss. He nibbled her bottom lip and she opened her mouth. With the slight bit of encouragement, his tongue traced where he’d nibbled and dipped inside her mouth. Their tongues danced, their breaths mingled and she tasted traces of vanilla from his shake. His hands slid down her arms and rested at her waist and she melted against him. He traced little circles with his thumbs and tingles ran up her spine. She played with the soft down at the base of his skull and fingered the hollow at the back of his neck. She flicked his ear and he groaned. Desire coursed through her and she reveled in her power to make him moan. Their noses touched and he reached behind for her hand and held it in his. He was warm and masculine and she wanted him. She inhaled and smelled his spicy aftershave. He pulled away and traced kisses along her jaw. She shivered and licked his neck. It tasted salty and his pulse beat beneath her mouth. He hugged her tight against him and she slipped her arms inside of his coat and around his waist. Their bodies were so close it was as if they were one. Still, she wanted to be closer.She tipped her head to the side to give him better access to her neck and his whiskers scraped the sensitive skin behind her ear. She whimpered and he trailed kisses from right below her ear to her jawline. When he pulled away, his breathing was heavy and matched her own.Their gazes met and she smiled.“How do you feel?” he asked and rested his head against hers.“Like I have been thoroughly kissed.”“That’s funny, I feel the same way.”“What a coincidence,” she said with a smile.
Did you enjoy that? I hope so. For more “hot kisses,” or to participate in next week’s bloghop, follow this link to Book Boyfriends Café. And if you’d like to read this, or any, of my books, you can follow this link.
February 23, 2015
The Oscars
I didn’t watch the Oscars last night.
I know, I know, that’s horrible. It borders on un-American. And it’s certainly isolating as news and social media is filled with commentary about what happened, while I remain blissfully ignorant.
I did check out some of the gowns. I scrolled through the People website so I could take a look at them. Most seemed elegant and a majority were white.
When my husband and I were dating, we went to the movies almost every weekend. We were up on all the latest and it was one of our favorite activities. Once we had kids and limited babysitting, we fell out of the movie routine.
So then he started recording them. And I’ll confess, we watched a lot of them at home. But lately, I haven’t had much of a desire to watch movies. I’d rather watch TV shows. Movies are one and done. Whatever connection I feel to characters or story is fleeting. With TV shows, though, I can come back every week and see what’s happening to characters I’ve invested time and thought in.
I don’t get that as much with movies.
So the Oscars have little appeal to me. And the speeches? Most of them I find horribly embarrassing. You know how some people, when they watch scary things, cover their faces with pillows (seemingly to forget they have eyelids)? Well, that’s me with awards shows. I hate the speeches. They’re either stupid or so emotional, they’re meant for the privacy of their family, not the public venue of a show broadcast to millions of viewers. I cringe for them as if I’m the one putting myself on display.
I didn’t watch the Oscars, I’m not sorry and I’ll have to smile blandly during conversations about what happened. That’s okay. I hope you enjoyed them!
I know, I know, that’s horrible. It borders on un-American. And it’s certainly isolating as news and social media is filled with commentary about what happened, while I remain blissfully ignorant.
I did check out some of the gowns. I scrolled through the People website so I could take a look at them. Most seemed elegant and a majority were white.
When my husband and I were dating, we went to the movies almost every weekend. We were up on all the latest and it was one of our favorite activities. Once we had kids and limited babysitting, we fell out of the movie routine.
So then he started recording them. And I’ll confess, we watched a lot of them at home. But lately, I haven’t had much of a desire to watch movies. I’d rather watch TV shows. Movies are one and done. Whatever connection I feel to characters or story is fleeting. With TV shows, though, I can come back every week and see what’s happening to characters I’ve invested time and thought in.
I don’t get that as much with movies.
So the Oscars have little appeal to me. And the speeches? Most of them I find horribly embarrassing. You know how some people, when they watch scary things, cover their faces with pillows (seemingly to forget they have eyelids)? Well, that’s me with awards shows. I hate the speeches. They’re either stupid or so emotional, they’re meant for the privacy of their family, not the public venue of a show broadcast to millions of viewers. I cringe for them as if I’m the one putting myself on display.
I didn’t watch the Oscars, I’m not sorry and I’ll have to smile blandly during conversations about what happened. That’s okay. I hope you enjoyed them!
February 16, 2015
The Princess is Driving
The Princess is driving. Like, an actual car. On the roads. And she’s good!
Although I can’t believe she’s old enough to do this, I’ve been looking forward to this for months. I’m not sure why. I’m pretty cautious when it comes to safety. For the past year, I’ve been telling her that allowing her to get behind the wheel of a car is the equivalent of giving her access to a lethal weapon and allowing her to use it. I’ve talked about why driving is dangerous, why she can’t drive with other people and why other people can’t drive with her.
Being the Princess, we’ve also had multiple discussions, initiated by her, about why she has to drive my husband’s old car, which she thinks is ugly, rather than get a brand new car. His car is safe and she’s not getting a brand new car. End of story. But she keeps trying. She’s nothing if not persistent.
As the date of her birthday got closer, she started getting more nervous about driving. I think that’s great. I want her to be nervous. I want her to realize the awesome responsibility being handed to her and not take it lightly. But some of her friends are terrified of driving and are refusing to learn. Fear feeds on itself, and after trying unsuccessfully to get her to call the driving school, I made the arrangements myself. She needs to learn now and she needs to learn before everyone else’s fear takes over.
She pulled into the driveway after that first lesson and I cried. I was hiding by the front window because I wanted to get pictures of her driving and had been told I wasn’t allowed to take any photos of her behind the wheel. But I did want to get evidence. Plus, since the car wasn’t dented, I decided that photographing it wouldn’t be a bad thing. But when she pulled into the driveway, I had visions of my six-month old baby sitting on a blanket on the grass in the sun and I cried.
She’s now finished her six hours of lessons—as a kid, that seemed like an endless amount of time; as a parent, holy cow, they think she’s ready to drive???—and we’re now practicing together. To quote her, she hasn’t killed anyone yet. The car is still in one piece and I haven’t had a heart attack.
Although she currently seems to take after her mother in her parking abilities (straight on, not parallel—she’s amazing at parallel parking, go figure) and her directional sense, I’m hoping those are temporary glitches that will disappear with time. She’s actually quite good with the rest of it—she looks around and past the hood of the car, she basically stays in the center of her lane and she turns pretty well.
She needs practice, but I think we’re going to be okay. If only I could stop seeing this when she drives:
Although I can’t believe she’s old enough to do this, I’ve been looking forward to this for months. I’m not sure why. I’m pretty cautious when it comes to safety. For the past year, I’ve been telling her that allowing her to get behind the wheel of a car is the equivalent of giving her access to a lethal weapon and allowing her to use it. I’ve talked about why driving is dangerous, why she can’t drive with other people and why other people can’t drive with her.
Being the Princess, we’ve also had multiple discussions, initiated by her, about why she has to drive my husband’s old car, which she thinks is ugly, rather than get a brand new car. His car is safe and she’s not getting a brand new car. End of story. But she keeps trying. She’s nothing if not persistent.
As the date of her birthday got closer, she started getting more nervous about driving. I think that’s great. I want her to be nervous. I want her to realize the awesome responsibility being handed to her and not take it lightly. But some of her friends are terrified of driving and are refusing to learn. Fear feeds on itself, and after trying unsuccessfully to get her to call the driving school, I made the arrangements myself. She needs to learn now and she needs to learn before everyone else’s fear takes over.
She pulled into the driveway after that first lesson and I cried. I was hiding by the front window because I wanted to get pictures of her driving and had been told I wasn’t allowed to take any photos of her behind the wheel. But I did want to get evidence. Plus, since the car wasn’t dented, I decided that photographing it wouldn’t be a bad thing. But when she pulled into the driveway, I had visions of my six-month old baby sitting on a blanket on the grass in the sun and I cried.
She’s now finished her six hours of lessons—as a kid, that seemed like an endless amount of time; as a parent, holy cow, they think she’s ready to drive???—and we’re now practicing together. To quote her, she hasn’t killed anyone yet. The car is still in one piece and I haven’t had a heart attack.
Although she currently seems to take after her mother in her parking abilities (straight on, not parallel—she’s amazing at parallel parking, go figure) and her directional sense, I’m hoping those are temporary glitches that will disappear with time. She’s actually quite good with the rest of it—she looks around and past the hood of the car, she basically stays in the center of her lane and she turns pretty well.
She needs practice, but I think we’re going to be okay. If only I could stop seeing this when she drives:
February 9, 2015
Cover Reveal
Rebel Ink Press is re-releasing my second book, Skin Deep, and I have a new cover! It’s completely different from the old one, and reflects the grittier nature of this book. Here it is.
I’m currently doing a last round of edits on the book, tightening things up and fixing any errors that slipped through the last time. Here’s the blurb:
The last thing Valerie needs, after escaping an abusive marriage to an alcoholic and rebuilding her life, is a broody, secretive, standoffish man. But that’s exactly what she gets when she becomes a makeup artist on the set of a hit sitcom and draws the attention of the series’ star.
John Samuels hides a terrible past—a life of abuse and neglect. A successful acting career and the affection and support of cast, crew and friends, does nothing to convince him that he is anything other than an unlovable monster.
Will he learn that the life he’s been living has been built on a lie or will he be doomed to repeat the sins of his father?
Look for Skin Deep on Amazon and other online retailers March 10.
I’m currently doing a last round of edits on the book, tightening things up and fixing any errors that slipped through the last time. Here’s the blurb:
The last thing Valerie needs, after escaping an abusive marriage to an alcoholic and rebuilding her life, is a broody, secretive, standoffish man. But that’s exactly what she gets when she becomes a makeup artist on the set of a hit sitcom and draws the attention of the series’ star.
John Samuels hides a terrible past—a life of abuse and neglect. A successful acting career and the affection and support of cast, crew and friends, does nothing to convince him that he is anything other than an unlovable monster.
Will he learn that the life he’s been living has been built on a lie or will he be doomed to repeat the sins of his father?
Look for Skin Deep on Amazon and other online retailers March 10.
