Karen Docter's Blog, page 185
May 11, 2017
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s: Creamy Crockpot Chicken Stew
It’s time for Karen’s Killer Fixin’s! Over the years, I’ve filled two 4-inch, 3-ring binders with my own creations as well as recipes my family and friends were willing to share with me. I simply love to cook and want to share that love with my readers. So every Friday, I share one recipe I think you and your family might enjoy. It might be a main course recipe. A cookie or baked item. Candy. Salads. Whatever strikes my eye and fancy…which today is CREAMY CROCKPOT CHICKEN STEW!
Even though the children are all gone, I still make family-sized batches of this flavorful chicken stew. It’s so easy to just throw it into the crockpot and have a full meal available at dinnertime. My husband likes it so much, he takes leftovers to work for his lunches. It’s even better after steeping in its own juices overnight.
May 10, 2017
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Bayside Desires (Bayside Summers Book 1) by Melissa Foster
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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BAYSIDE DESIRES
Bayside Summers Book 1
BY MELISSA FOSTER
Blurb
As the co-owner of Bayside Resorts, Rick Savage has a fabulous job working with his best friends and brother, and a thriving business in Washington, DC, which he’ll be returning to at the end of the summer. Spending time with his family is great, but being back on Cape Cod has unearthed painful memories. When sweet, smart, and overly cautious Desiree Cleary moves in next door, Rick is drawn to the sexy preschool teacher, and she just might prove to be the perfect distraction.
Running an art gallery was not in preschool teacher Desiree Cleary’s plans, but after being tricked into coming to her impetuous, unreliable mother’s aid, she’s stuck spending the summer with the badass half sister she barely knows and a misbehaving dog. If that’s not frustrating enough, she can’t escape the sparks igniting with her strikingly handsome and pushy neighbor, Rick, who makes all her warning bells go off.
Passion ignites as Desiree and Rick spend long summer nights sharing heartfelt confessions and steamy kisses. For the first time in years Rick is enjoying life again instead of hiding behind mounds of work miles away from his family. Desiree has touched him in a way that makes him want to slow down. Only slowing down means dealing with his demons, and he isn’t sure who he’ll be when he comes out the other side.
BAYSIDE DESIRES
BY MELISSA FOSTER
Excerpt
Oh shit. Rick Savage beached his craft, threw his life vest onto the sand, and ran after the woman he’d soaked. He’d been so captivated by the curvaceous blonde that when she’d started to leave, his first instinct had been to stop her. He’d clearly lost his mind. He knew better than to come that close to the jetty or to fishtail near people.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, jogging over as she stepped off the rocks and onto the beach.
She turned, mouth gaping, strands of wet hair stuck to her cheeks, forehead, and shoulders. The most beautiful green eyes stared back at him in shock and horror. He felt like a total ass.
“I’m sorry. I saw you watching me, and—” There was absolutely no excuse for what he’d done, so he went with the truth, no matter how bad it sounded. “I wanted to meet you before you took off.”
“I wasn’t watching you.” Her eyes darted around them, as if someone else might hear her lying.
He cocked a brow.
“Okay, maybe I was for a second. But you were stalking me.” She swiped at her sundress, which clung to her incredibly sexy body like a second skin.
He tried not to leer, but damn…
Forcing his eyes up, he said, “I wasn’t stalking you—”
Her deadpan stare stopped him from telling his own lie.
“Okay, fine,” he said with a laugh. “I was. You caught me. I’m sorry.”
“Does this usually work for you? Drenching unsuspecting women?” she said with a hint of annoyance, and a smile, as she shook the water from her arms. “Not that I’m an expert on being hit on, but it doesn’t seem like the best way to go about it.”
“I’m sure you get hit on all the time, but this wasn’t planned. It was a stupid mistake. It’s actually illegal to go that fast near the jetty, so you can have me arrested if you’d like. I wasn’t thinking. I was—”
She arched a brow, a slight smirk playing across her beautiful face as she tossed his mannerism right back at him.
He felt himself smiling. Man, this woman was as sweet as she was spunky. “What can I say? If you weren’t so hot…”
“So, it’s my fault?” She rolled her eyes. “You really do kind of suck at picking up women.”
The caveman in him grunted, and he squared his shoulders. “I don’t suck at it. I’m actually really good at it. A pro. A master. A champion.”
She laughed. “Sorry, but…” She waved at her wet clothes. “Evidence proves otherwise.”
And I’m about to prove that evidence wrong. “Let me buy you a sweatshirt and something warm to drink at Mac’s so you don’t freeze.” Mac’s was a walk-up restaurant by the Wellfleet Pier, a five-minute drive by car. Less by Jet Ski.
Her eyes rolled over his face, as if she were considering it. He’d never had anything close to a poker face, which meant she saw his remorse and his attraction. At six two, two thirty, he was a big dude, and he kept in prime shape with running and water sports. He was used to women ogling him and practically doing cartwheels to get his attention. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes dropping to his bare chest, and she bit her plump lower lip. “Sexy” didn’t begin to describe the dichotomy of sweet and sultry this woman possessed. But she wasn’t doing cartwheels. In fact, those hungry eyes shifted away from him.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I was getting ready to leave anyway.”
She was blowing him off? There was no way he was letting her leave without doing something to make up for this debacle. Okay, maybe he also wanted to strip away those wet clothes and warm her up. But that was beside the point.
“Are you staying at a cottage on the beach? I can give you a ride on my Jet Ski.”
“As tempting as that sounds, since I’ve never been on one, I have my car.” She pointed to the parking lot with the hand that held her phone, and her smile faded. “Oh, shoot. My phone got wet.”
“I can take care of that.” He took it from her and wiped it on his shorts. She watched his hands, his biceps, his pecs, his shorts, with laser focus. His fish wasn’t off the line yet. “It should be okay now. Want me to put my number in your contacts? In case you change your mind about that drink?”
That brought a curious smile. He noticed the cutest dimple beside her mouth when she smiled. “Does that usually work?”
“No idea. I haven’t had to use that line before.”
He stepped closer, unable to resist brushing a lock of hair that was stuck to her cheek away from her face so he could see her better. Their eyes connected, and the temperature spiked. She must have felt it, too, because she was licking her lips like a hungry tigress. In the next breath, her eyes darted nervously around the beach. Christ, now she looked sweet and innocent. How did she do that in the blink of an eye? Rick was only at the Cape for a few more weeks, working on renovations at the resort before returning to his real life, and design-build business, in Washington, DC. The thoughts running through his mind were not sweet and innocent. He should let his apology ride, get on his Jet Ski, and drive away. But she had his rapt attention, and he was unable to walk away.
“You don’t have to use my number,” he said. “But you never know. Maybe when you’re lying in bed tonight, unable to stop thinking about me, you’ll wish you had it.”
Her cheeks flushed, and those sparkling green eyes moved over his face and down his chest again, lingering long enough to send a stroke of heat to his core.
“Why not?” she said, surprising the hell out of him. “Go ahead and put your number in my phone…?”
“Rick.” He entered his contact information and handed it back, curling his fingers over hers and holding them for a beat.
Her eyes flicked up, dark and alluring. “I’m Desiree,” she said a little breathlessly.
Oh yeah, you feel it, too.
Meet Author Melissa Foster. ..
Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance and new adult romance with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa’s emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented–perfect beach reads for contemporary romance lovers who enjoy reading about wealthy heroes and smart, sassy heroines.
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Links to Melissa’s website, blog, books, etc.
Link to Follow Tour:
http://tastybooktours.com/tours-master/2017/3/5/bayside-desires-melissa-foster
Goodreads Link:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32595084-bayside-desires
Goodreads Series Link:
https://www.goodreads.com/series/196328-bayside-summers
Buy Links: AMAZON | B & N | GOOGLE | ITUNES | KOBO
Author Links:
WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
~~~
Thanks, Melissa, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
May 9, 2017
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: A Smile In A Beautiful Sky by Sherell Cummings
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
~~
A SMILE IN A BEAUTIFUL SKY
BY SHERELL CUMMINGS
Blurb
After an accident at seventeen takes her memory, there is something the adult Skylar Danes has to remember in her old hometown…but only her heart knows what.
A SMILE IN A BEAUTIFUL SKY
BY SHERELL CUMMINGS
Excerpt
“This could be good for you. Who knows? A new house, new school, new friends should give you a new outlook on things,” Uncle Max says, shaking my shoulders. We’d only met four months ago, and with everything I’ve put him through in that short period of time I’m surprised he still cares. “This is a good change. Hopefully, you’ll see that in a couple of days.”
I huff. Is anything ever a good change?
“Really? So losing my parents, selling my home and leaving my friends are supposed to be good things?” I ask sarcastically, looking around my room. “Wow, I so see your point.”
“Stop being a brat. Would you rather be in foster care, having to share a room with six kids?”
“Six, really?”
“Or more if you’re lucky.”
Cue the eye roll. He’s even more dramatic than me. “Whatever.”
“Good, then that’s settled. Come downstairs when you’re finished sulking.” Stepping through the bedroom door, he disappears with his words down the hall.
Everything from my old room is stacked in front of me in eight medium-sized boxes. My life is supposed to be different now. I’m supposed to be this new Sky, build new dreams and create new adventures, but all I can do is stand here and stare at these eight boxes.
Moving to the window, I view the empty street and freshly cut grass. The two-story yellow Victorian I’m currently standing in is beautiful, I admit, but it still isn’t my home.
When my uncle said I was moving to Anderson, South Carolina, I hated the idea of leaving behind everything I had worked so hard to build. We are made to believe that change is supposed to be good. But I don’t agree. You make plans and have these endless dreams built up in your head and then something bad happens and they all get taken away, as quickly as it takes to open your eyes. What’s left is the uncertainty of everything you once hoped, dreamed or even prayed for ever coming true.
After a while of standing there I abandon the unopened boxes and head downstairs to the living room. With its plain white walls and only a few pieces of furniture, it looks more like a bachelor pad instead of a three-bedroom house. All the furniture is old, brown or leather, and the seventy-five-inch TV mounted against the wall doesn’t help the imagery much.
I turn to the sound of the front door opening. My uncle walks in carrying the rest of my stuff. “I did as much as I could, but I’m not a decorating kind of man, so I’ll leave that up to you,” he says, dropping the bags by the stairs as he straightens and takes a breath.
“Really, you’re leaving me to decorate? I have never decorated anything but my room before and that was sticking posters up to cover the holes I accidently made with a pencil. I’ll probably mess it up.”
Picking up the bags, he continues up the stairs. “Well, if you do, we’ll just be living in a messed-up house. Hope you won’t be ashamed to bring any friends over.”
“Good thing I don’t have any of those.”
“Too bad,” he says, before disappearing from view. I roll my eyes and turn for the kitchen.
My uncle Max is great in the sense that I see him as more of a big brother instead of a rule enforcer. He’s a joker and tries hard to make me feel comfortable, seeing as I couldn’t remember much about him from when I was little. He’s my mother’s brother and the only family they could find that would take me. Not that I’m complaining, because so far he’s amazing.
When we got in this morning, he parked behind a red 2011 Honda Civic and before I even got out of his car he said it was mine. Days before we left Texas, he sold my dad’s old Chevy because I couldn’t stand the sight of it. I’m surprised he bought me that beautiful baby as a moving gift, and trust me, it was love at first sight.
I grab a water from the fridge and take a seat on a stool by the kitchen table. I would like to think if I’m anything, I’m a planner. I had my whole senior year planned out from the day I stepped foot in that building, to the day I would walk out in my cap and gown. I knew what classes I would take, what parties I would go to, even what I would wear on a day-to-day basis. That’s what my friends and I talked about since we were sophomores. How good it would feel to finally make it to the end, in hopes of starting a new beginning. Now nothing makes sense and I have to start from the beginning again, and as much as I was looking forward to senior year back in Texas, I’m dreading it now, because here I’ll be the new girl.
“All your crap is finally in your room. So what do you want to do now?” he says, grabbing a beer out of the fridge.
“Hey, can I have one of those?” I nod toward the beer.
“Ah, no. Do that on your own time, when I’m not around, like a normal teenager.”
“But aren’t parents supposed to encourage their kids to drink at home instead of on the streets with strangers?”
Don’t know who I’m kidding.
He chuckles with an amused look. “Really, after that party where I walked in on you a couple weeks ago?”
“You didn’t walk in…”
“You were hungover.”
“I was just tired.”
“There was vomit in the kitchen sink.”
“I didn’t do that, and that’s a very good example of drinking at home under my own roof.”
“Right…great example of getting drunk under your own roof with a bunch of strangers when I wasn’t in town.”
What he’s referring to is this pity party I threw and a bunch of strangers showed up who trashed my house while I was passed out drunk in the tub upstairs. It wasn’t one of my finest moments, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. I didn’t even invite any of those people—my lack of people to invite was the reason I was having a pity party in the first place.
When I finally woke up around two the next morning, I found my uncle downstairs brooding and pissed off. It was the first time I had ever seen him angry, and it was scary because he’s a really big guy. The house was trashed, a window was broken, and the front door was hanging on by the hinges. I burst out laughing. I was lucky he didn’t ship me off to social services that day.”
Meet Author Sherell Cummings. ..
Sherell Cummings is an IT Technician whose mind is consumed with what to write next. She and her fiancé, Jude and their two children live on the island of Trinidad and Tobago and when she’s not reading or trying to find time to write, she’s at work doing the regular nine to five.
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Links to Sherell’s website, blog, books, etc.
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/ B01MSDXWQ2
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/bo oks/view/700855
Paperback:
https://www.createspace.com/69 05819
Kobo:
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebo ok/a-smile-in-a-beautiful-sky
Amazon Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/Sherell-Cummings/e/B01N5W3WUD/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
Boroughs Publishing Group:
http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/authors/sherell-cummings
Twitter: https://twitter.com/arabellaj19
~~~
**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Sherell will give away a Kindle copy of A SMILE IN A BEAUTIFUL SKY to one reader who comments on her Karen’s Killer Book Bench blog. Thanks, Sherell, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
May 8, 2017
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Claiming His Mate (Mates of Zatari Book 1) by Claire Conrad
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
~~
CLAIMING HIS MATE
Mates of Zatari Book 1
BY CLAIRE CONRAD
Blurb
Though Octavia is enthralled by Prince Markus of Delti the moment she sets eyes on him, she is shocked when the huge, handsome warrior takes her captive and informs her that she is his fated mate, bound irrevocably to him for the rest of their lives.
Markus quickly makes it clear that he will demand obedience and submission from his mate, and when the beautiful, headstrong Zatari priestess questions his honor he does not hesitate to bare her bottom and spank her hard and thoroughly.
The humiliating punishment leaves Octavia furious yet helplessly aroused, and though it fills her with shame, she soon finds herself begging for her mate to master her body completely. When Markus claims her at last, his skilled, dominant lovemaking satisfies her more deeply than she would have thought possible, but will she forsake her own people and stay by his side forever?
Publisher’s Note: Claiming His Mate is the first book of the Mates of Zatari series. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
CLAIMING HIS MATE
Mates of Zatari Book 1
BY CLAIRE CONRAD
Excerpt
Free me. They’re going to kill me. It will mean war.
These men were supposed to be willing participants, their seed given freely and in fair trade. None were meant to suffer, to bleed as our ancestors had bled. Had we learned nothing from our history, from the mistakes of our ancestors, from decades of war with the people of Delti?
Sweat ran from the long golden hair at my temples, winding down my cheeks. My body ached with need, with tension and fury. His fury.
I wanted to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair, to trace the hard strength of his thighs and wrap my hand around the thick steel of his shaft. I wanted to lick his skin and take his seed.
I did none of those things. He spoke to me mind-to-mind as only a noble of Delti could do. Telepathy, mind tricks were forbidden among my people. The penalty for using such power was execution. And yet, the male chained to the table bombarded me with his power. Why did no one else feel him? Hear him? What was I to do?
Years of forbidden study raced through my mind. As I watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, reveled in the heat and power his body emanated, I knew that if I walked away and allowed his death, it would haunt me forever. The elders meant to breed him and kill him. I had no doubt. It was wrong. Plain and simple. And yet, I was not foolish enough to believe that was the only reason I could not walk away from him. I’d seen other wrongs in my life and done nothing. Why him? Why did I feel like I must save him? Why did every cell in my body scream that he was mine?
As I studied his muscular frame I wondered what it would be like to have a man who was mine to keep. To choose a mate for myself and not simply follow the dictates of the elders.
Dangerous thoughts. I needed to leave this place for now. I needed to get away from him, to think.
As if he sensed my leaving, cold madness flooded my mind. Anger that I would abandon him to this fate. His primal, gut-clawing need to possess me shocked me into a quick jolting step away from his hard body.
The elder watched me like a hawk, her eyes never leaving me as I walked toward the exit.
No. Do not leave me here, woman. I feel you. I know you hear me. Do not start a war. Do not leave me here to die.
From beneath lowered lashes I watched the other women in the room. All eyes were fixed on the newest warrior as she rode her chosen breeder. No one in the room appeared to notice anything out of the ordinary. Others had never been able to hear the telepathic communication between members of my family. And none here were blood relations to me.
Satisfied that none of the women would hear my thoughts, I closed my eyes and tried to calm the mating frenzy in my body as I reached out with my mind.
I’ll return.
Who are you? One of my father’s spies? Answer me!
I took a deep breath and focused my mind to send him a message. The presiding elder’s eyes were fixed on Mira. I am a Zatari priestess. Who are you?
He froze on the platform, held his breath. Was he shocked? He shouldn’t be. He’d started this conversation.
I am Markus, son of King Thadron. Your elders intend to kill me, to break the treaty, to declare war on Delti.
You lie. I could not believe him, not about this. War with the planet Delti had killed millions over hundreds of years. The treaty that ended the war had been signed decades ago, long before I was born. Our people had flourished since. My sister and the elders on the council often complained about the Delti invaders who controlled not only half of our home world, but the planet of Delti as well. But to start a war? No.
I speak the truth. Free me now or your people and mine will suffer unimaginable horrors. My father will not stop until every man, woman, and child is burning.
Speaking mind-to-mind was not new to me. I knew well the flavor of another’s thoughts and emotions, the bitter taste of manipulation, the warm glow of caring, and the sour tang of untruth.
This man, this prince, was not lying. He believed what he told me.
Why was he not part of the ritual? Why were his hands bloody and his body drugged so heavily that he could not even lift his head?
From deep in my soul, from the place that touched the sacred beating heart of the planet, I received an answer.
None had touched him, and none would, I knew, until later. What the elders planned was not for public consumption, not for the eyes of a priestess or lesser daughters of the Temple. Evil did not like the bright light of day, or eyes to bear witness to its schemes.
I knew then what I had to do. Goddess forgive me if it were the wrong choice. I had little time to prepare. Once the ritual was over, it would be too late to save him.
Meet Author Claire Conrad. ..
Claire Conrad is a full time writer and chocolate enthusiast who knows just enough about a handful of topics to dabble in many and master none. She loves a good red wine, traveling just about anywhere, coffee (as long as it’s dark), romance and never met a sci-fi story she didn’t love – including comically horrible “B” movies – much to her husband’s chagrin.
Claire writes sexy alpha male aliens, fantasy lovers and anything else her muse thinks might be fun (or a little naughty). All of her books take a wee little ride on the wild side, so hold on tight. Things are about to get panty-melting hot in here.
May 7, 2017
**Author Peek** Interview with Sherell Cummings, Author of A Smile In A Beautiful Sky
**Author Peek** Interview with SHERELL CUMMINGS
A SMILE IN A BEAUTIFUL SKY
INTRODUCING…Sherell Cummings.
Before we get started talking about your writing, tell us a little about yourself, where you’re from, what you do for a living (if you’re not a full – time writer) what hobbies you have, etc. Whatever you’d like to share to introduce yourself.
Okay, I’m from Trinidad, less so Tobago since I’ve only been there five times in my life. But I think if I had to choose between the two I’d choose Tobago. People are a lot less hostile over there and it’s basically vacation paradise twenty four seven. I work for an Interiors company that also sells copiers, so basically I’m the one customers complain to when their copiers broken. Not that I fix them I just assign the guy who does. And apart my glamorous job as a technical coordinator and my hopefully prospering writing career, I spend most of my time reading other people’s books, daydreaming about the stories I should get started on, but never do (I’m a terrible procrastinator) Or I’m at the gym laughing it up instead of actually working out.
1. What genre(s) do you write in and why?
Most of my books so far have been contemporary romances because I’m always searching to create that grasping heart twisting love story. I’m trying to break free from that formula that romances usually follow and twist it up so to speak.
2. What’s your favorite beverage?
Orange soda, hands down and maybe the occasional Coke to mix it up.
3. If you had to listen to one song over and over again for a whole day, what would it be?
Every teardrop is a waterfall by Coldplay. I’m obsessed with the band and all their music and that’s the one song that makes me most happy.
4. What is your least favorite part of writing?
Finding the right words to put on paper. It can sometimes be very hard watching a story play out in my head and then I find myself in front of my laptop completely lost for the correct words.
5. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?
Ireland. I love the country side and seeing all that land and smelling fresh air every day, would be like paradise to me.
6. Are you an avid reader? When you do read someone else’s writing, what is your favorite genre?
Romance of course. I read all the time and some of my favorites are the ones that are really funny and have some of the craziest things going on. Like the Consequence of Loving Colton by Rachel Van Dyken and pretty much all her books in that series. And then I love the real sappy one that make you think and cry, like Confess by Coleen Hoover.
7. Where do you get the ideas for your stories?
I don’t actually have a specific thought process, sometimes it just happens or sometimes I’m reading a book and I’d want the story to take a different direction and then suddenly I’m creating characters and placing them into a story.
8. Tell me about your ideal read .
It would consist of all books by Rachel Van Dyken and Coleen Hoover, than I’d add all fifteen episodes of My Master’s Nightmare by Marita A Hansen. Then there’s the whole Random Acts of Crazy series not to mention Vi Keeland’s books and to top it all off Olivia Cunning’s Sinners on tour series.
9. If you were to choose one superpower, what would it be?
Telepathy. I’ve always wanted to know what others were thinking. It would be the easiest way to get the truth.
10. Tell us about your next book & when is it being published?
My next book is called BUTTERFLY IN THE SAND; it’s also a contemporary romance. It’s about learning your true strengths when it comes to loving someone and finding a way to live without them when you’re not given a choice. I don’t have a publish date yet but I’m working on it and hopefully it will be out before the end of the year.
~~~
Be sure to come back to learn more about Sherell’s novel, A SMILE IN A BEAUTIFUL SKY, on Wednesday’s Karen’s Killer Book Bench blog.
~~~
Links to Sherell’s website, blog, books, etc.
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/ B01MSDXWQ2
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/bo oks/view/700855
Paperback:
https://www.createspace.com/69 05819
Kobo:
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebo ok/a-smile-in-a-beautiful-sky
Amazon Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/Sherell-Cummings/e/B01N5W3WUD/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
Boroughs Publishing Group:
http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/authors/sherell-cummings
Twitter: https://twitter.com/arabellaj19
~~~
**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Sherell will give away a Kindle copy of A SMILE IN A BEAUTIFUL SKY to one reader who comments on her Karen’s Killer Book Bench blog. Thanks, Sherell, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
Enter to WIN 105 #Romance Paperbacks in #ThatBookRocks Spring Fling Contest!!
Love to Read? – Enter this amazing contest
I’m so excited to share this amazing contest with you!
Right now is your chance to enter to win 105 (yes, that’s more than 100+) PAPERBACK Novels, featuring your favorite best-selling ROMANCE authors (including me!) of all genres.
Did I mention that the Grand Prize winner will receive a Read and Relax Prize Pack (worth $150) as well? They will also receive a copy of all 105 books. One additional winner will also receive all 105 books!
Expand your book collection now! Simply enter below.
Congratulations Week 05-01-17 Blog Giveaway Winners!
CONGRATULATIONS WEEK
05-01-17
BLOG GIVEAWAY WINNERS!!
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Karen’s Killer Book Bench with Darlene Deluca…
**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Darlene will give away a digital copy of BAREFOOT DAYS, the final book in her Women of Whitfield trilogy, to one reader who comments on her **Author Peek** Interview or Karen’s Killer Book Bench blogs. Thank you, Darlene, for sharing your story with us.
WINNER: KATHLEEN BYLSMA !
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Karen’s Killer Book Bench with Belle Blackburn…
**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Belle will give away an ebook copy of THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER, THE CHOICE to one reader who comments on her Karen’s Killer Book Bench blog. Thank you, Belle, for sharing your story with us.
WINNER: BN100 !
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6 DAYS LEFT!!! You can still win a $25 Amazon eGift Card!! Enter Claire McEwen’s giveaway at http://www.karendocter.com/karens-killer-book-bench-his-last-rodeo-sierra-legacy-4-by-claire-mcewen.html for a chance to win. Good luck!
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EVERYONE’S A WINNER WHEN YOU READ A DOCTER NOVEL!!!
KILLING SECRETS
A Thorne’s Thorn Novel – Book One
by K. L. Docter
**LIMITED TIME** DISCOUNT $2.99!!
Blurb: Some secrets are better left dead. Too bad the Angel Killer’s digging them up. Rachel James’ ex-husband is released from prison determined to reclaim her and her traumatized child, his key to the James fortune. Patrick Thorne isn’t interested in helping another of his parents’ charity cases, especially after losing his unborn son and wife to suicide. Only trust will untangle the secrets that dominate their lives, free a child of her silent prison, and save them both from a killer who stands too close.
“This romantic suspense is full of wonderful secrets, twists, turns and has an evil serial killing villain. The kind of killer we see on the TV show CRIMINAL MINDS.”–RT Book Reviews, Bernadette Cychner
All of Karen/K.L. Docter books are stand alone novels. No cliffhangers!
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2m6Bv4P
B&N: http://goo.gl/wsqVxB
Kobo: http://goo.gl/KM563U
iTunes: http://goo.gl/pg58wN
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21965828-killing-secrets?ac=1&from_search=true
HAPPY READING!
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All giveaway winners chosen by random.org from reader comments with the exception of Rafflecopter giveaways which are determined and announced offsite by publisher/authors. Thank you!
May 4, 2017
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special** with LIES OF GOLD Author, Jan Selbourne #recipe ~ Lamb Roast
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s
**AUTHOR SPECIAL**
with JAN SELBOURNE!
Welcome to my Friday bonus feature called Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special**!! Today, in lieu of one of my own recipes, I’m going to introduce you to a new author who will share one of her favorite recipes. Not only will you and I occasionally learn how to make something new and delicious, but we’ll get a chance to check out some wonderful authors. Introducing author, JAN SELBOURNE, and her favorite recipe for LAMB ROAST!
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LIES OF GOLD
BY JAN SELBOURNE
BLURB
Their love affair ended in anger and painful consequences. Lady Katherine Ashford has guarded a secret through years of abuse. Fighting wars and hard living has numbed Julian Ashford. Then fate steps in. A traitor is smuggling gold across the Channel to Napoleon Bonaparte and Julian is ordered back to Halton Hall and Katherine. It’s her secret and the increasing danger that rekindle the love they once shared, then a murder reveals the shocking truth of the gold smuggling. However, nothing could prepare them for the devastating betrayal when they finally face the mastermind behind this sordid operation.
LIES OF GOLD
BY JAN SELBOURNE
EXCERPT
He walked out of the drawing room and felt a sliver of shock when he opened the door to his bedchamber. He couldn’t remember how he got here. Swearing softly, he walked to the window overlooking the front courtyard and rested his head against the glass. He’d fathered a child, a daughter. For nine years, his daughter had lived in this house as Charles’s daughter. His vision blurred. Ten years of hard living had buried those deep painful scars and all it took was one look at Katherine and that small girl’s face to peel it all away. Like peeling an onion, his eyes were stinging like hell.
He remembered the night he met Katherine as if it were yesterday. Charles was in France and he was in London attending a debutante’s ball. Bored out of his head with the simpering young females and strutting males he was looking for an excuse to depart when his cousin’s tall, elegant wife, Katherine was introduced to him. The orchestra began playing and he asked her to join him on the floor. It was a waltz; he took her in his arms, her eyes met his and he knew he’d met the only woman he’d ever love. They’d set off murmurs behind fans for dancing twice and they didn’t leave each other for a week. They’d made intense, passionate, love, they’d laid in each other’s arms and talked for hours, they were as one. She’d confided Charles was a hard, brutish man but she would not leave him because she’d lose all rights to her four years old son. He’d begged her, made promises he knew he couldn’t keep. She’d shaken her head in despair. As soon as Charles returned to London they would go home to Halton Hall.
He’d prayed Charles’s ship would sink to the bottom of the Channel. She’d cried in his arms; he’d cried in her arms. The day before Charles was due to arrive in London they became tense with each other and finally, distraught, he’d accused her of selling herself for the title and privilege. She’d thrown a heavy teapot at his head. When it struck, he’d seen stars for several seconds before shouting more insults. She’d furiously told him he couldn’t afford to keep her on his army pay. He’d walked out.
Julian barely remembered the following months of heavy drinking and angry self-pity until the army knocked his arrogance and selfishness out of him and saved his sanity. He knew damn well his army pay wouldn’t have kept her and he knew damn well she’d have lost all rights to her son. Knowing Charles, he would have demanded she be brought back to him and the law and the church would have supported him. Her life would have been worse than hell. Now this, Christ, never in a million years did he expect this. He wanted to walk away but he couldn’t because the whole damn top secret investigation would crumble or blow up in his face.
He sat down by the fire and put his head in his hands. He didn’t know it then, but that night fourteen months ago, changed his life. Benjamin Bloomfield, aide de camp to His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, had ordered Brigadier Sir Ian MacDonald, Sir Henry Whitton and himself to meet at a nondescript location on the outskirts of London. On their arrival, they’d been momentarily lost for words to find a sober and serious Prince Regent waiting for them. Senior government officials had drawn the Regent’s attention to the alarming amounts of gold leaving England. Well-placed sources in France had reported English gold was being smuggled across the Channel to help finance Napoleon Bonaparte’s army. Intensive investigations along the east coast had failed to find any solid evidence but the Regent was not satisfied. He and Bloomfield were convinced someone in the upper echelons of power and influence was behind it or protecting the smugglers. That night the five men present decided that from now on the Prince Regent would shrug it off as rumors and lose interest.
That night MacDonald, Whitton and Julian agreed to begin their search for the source. The Prince Regent named the secret investigation Spider’s Web. The three men thought the name childish but they dutifully indulged His Royal Highness. Not one word of the meeting was recorded and at the conclusion the Prince Regent instructed the three men to meet on the first day of each month and report their progress to Bloomfield the day after. Their investigations were secret and painstaking and gradually they began to close in on this part of the coast. They had observed from a distance, they had moved a little closer and then, as with every other investigation, the scent disappeared. However, they were convinced and MacDonald decreed Julian was the only suitable person to come and go around the Ballingford estates and the coast without raising suspicions.
Julian stretched his feet towards the fire, remembering his furious refusal to return to this place he despised intensely and how he nearly resigned his commission when summoned to a private audience with the Prince Regent. High Treason was involved and as an officer of the Crown he was expected to do his duty. He’d reluctantly bowed to HRH’s orders and it was agreed that to be convincing he’d have to be in dire straits to return. His debts, scandals and fistfights were carefully and authentically orchestrated culminating in him being bawled out by Ian MacDonald who’d conveniently forgotten the raw young corporal and scandal loving clerk in his office. Then their one reliable informer, who’d only agreed to meet him under strict conditions of anonymity, was found with his throat cut. He and Baker had arrived at Halton Hall with no idea of where to start or where to look for the needle in the haystack of boats and fishermen and identify whoever was behind this well organized group of traitors. When he did find evidence, his orders were to send a coded message to MacDonald and Whitton and the net would close in.
No matter what was thrown at him now, he could not walk away. They were so close and if the web was broken it could not be repaired. Nor could he let down Ian MacDonald, his uncle and mentor, to whom he owed so much.
About Author Jan Selbourne… 
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia. Her love of literature and history began as soon as she could read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne business college her career moved into the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live-in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.
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Links to Jan’s Website, Books, & Social Media:
Amazon Paperback: http://amzn.to/2qEtdmE
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jan-Selbourne/e/B0184OSZ6E/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1493920998&sr=1-2
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne
Twitter: Jan Selbourne@JanSelbourne
I hope you enjoy the recipe Jan is sharing today on Karen’s Killer Fixin’s. Happy eating!
Karen
P.S. We’re at 310 recipes and counting with this posting. Hope you find some recipes you like. If this is your first visit, please check out past blogs for more Killer Fixin’s. In the right hand column menu, you can even look up past recipes by type. i.e. Desserts, Breads, Beef, Chicken, Soups, Author Specials, etc.
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Note from Jan: Living in Australia, I was brought up with the Sunday Lamb Roast. Unlike today, lamb was inexpensive and a favourite for the Sunday baked dinner. The only thing better than the aroma wafting from the oven is eating the soft, sweet meat with thick gravy and roasted potatoes.
LAMB ROAST
Leg of Lamb approximately 2 – 2.5kg, (4 – 5.5lbs), removed from the fridge an hour before cooking.
Potatoes – 1-2 medium potatoes per person.
Other vegetables as desired – such as carrots, beans, broccoli.
Preheat oven to 200 deg. Celsius (400 deg. F)
Rub the leg of lamb with oil and, using a sharp knife, cut 2 or 3 small pockets on both sides and insert slivers of garlic into the slits. Put the leg in a baking tray and cook for approximately twenty minutes, then reduce the temperature to 150 degrees C (325 degrees F). Then, for medium cooked lamb, allow 25 minutes per half kilogram or pound, or, for well-done lamb (that I like) allow 30 minutes per half kilogram or pound. Baste the lamb at least three times during cooking.
Wash potatoes and cut them into halves. Place them in a saucepan, fill to the top with water and bring to the boil. Let them simmer for a 3 – 4 minutes, then drain.
Approximately half an hour before the lamb is done, place the potatoes around the leg of lamb. Baste each potato well, and return the pan to the oven.
When the lamb is done, remove from the oven and cover with foil to rest the meat, and turn the oven up to 200 C or 400 F for 10 minutes to brown the potatoes.
The best gravy is made from the pan juices. Drain most of the fat from the baking tray, leaving the dark brown meaty juices. Put the baking tray over a hot plate, stir in two heaped tablespoons of plain flour and keep stirring until the flour soaks up the juices. Immediately stir in a full cup of HOT water and keep stirring, making sure you stir in the brown juices on the sides of the baking tray. If it’s too thick, stir in more hot water to bring it to the consistency you prefer.
Next, slice the lamb and ENJOY.
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Thanks, Jan, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
May 3, 2017
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: The Doctor’s Daughter, The Choice by Belle Blackburn
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER
The Choice
BY BELLE BLACKBURN
Blurb
Kate married into a powerful Confederate family for all the wrong reasons, only to discover her true love from the past. In this sequel to The Doctor’s Daughter: Journey to Justice, Kate’s father-in-law locks horns with Andrew Johnson, military governor of occupied Nashville, and he turns their world upside-down. Murder, deception and a missing Union soldier change their lives forever. Kate has made bad choices before. Can she make the right one this time?
THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER
The Choice
BY BELLE BLACKBURN
Excerpt
Menopause: Swapping One Set of Problems for Another
“It is certainly a scorcher today,” Mrs. Rockwell said, fanning herself with her hand. Redness crept up her face. She unbuttoned her top two buttons and held her neckline out to allow air in.
“I was thinking it was rather pleasant,” I said. “There is a nice breeze.”
Ruby pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at Mrs. Rockwell’s forehead and then waved the handkerchief by her face to create a small movement of air.
Addie Thompson looked up from her needlework. “It feels comfortable to me.”
“It’s your climacteric,” Mrs. Goad said, bent down over her needlework. Mrs. Rockwell looked surprised.
“Brice says the modern name is menopause,” I said.
“Why?” Mama asked. “Is it going to start again? It should be called menostop.”
“I just never paused to think it could be that,” Mrs. Rockwell stammered.
“It’s something all of us here will go through,” Mama stated. “It’s just part of living, if you live long enough.”
“I will certainly be glad to be rid of the messiness,” Mrs. Rockwell said.
“Well, there are good things like that,” Mrs. Goad said, “but you are trading one set of problems for another.”
“Like what?” Mrs. Hamby asked.
Mrs. Goad snorted. “As if you don’t know?”
She turned her attention back to Mrs. Rockwell. “Your hot flushes are first, which last for years. I used to go out in the snow in just my night clothes and it felt good. Probably melted all the snow around me.”
Patricia and I looked at each other and shivered. We were always cold.
“Your skin will dry up. Then one day you will get a good look downstairs and see that your crinkum crankum is skinny and droopy.”
“My what?” Mrs. Rockwell looked terrified.
“Your crinkum crankum,” Mrs. Goad croaked. “The part between your legs, where things come out and sometimes things go in.”
Mrs. Owens sighed. “Mrs. Goad, may I remind you that this is a group of ladies?”
I saw Carolina frown slightly as she stitched and knew she was thinking there were only two ladies there, her mother and her, and I might be a slim possibility for a third by virtue of marriage.
“Ladies have a crinkum crankum too. How do you think they produce more ladies?” Mrs. Goad gave Mrs. Owens a questioning look.
“Do we have to discuss it here?” Mrs. Owens asked.
“Where else will you learn about it if you don’t learn it here? It’s a group of women.” Mrs. Goad lowered her head and rotated it to get a better look at her needlework with her one eye.
“Perhaps from their mother?” Mrs. Owens countered.
Mrs. Goad looked up from her work directly at me and then Patricia. “Have your mamas told you that your crinkum crankum will dry up and shrivel up like two skinny hoecakes that will stick together?”
Patricia and I both looked at our mothers. Surely this was not true. Instead of refuting it Mama’s resigned expression gave confirmation. Patricia and I looked at each other in horror, mouths agape.
“See?” Mrs. Goad said triumphantly. “It’s up to the elder ladies of the community to educate you. And the inside of the crinkum crankum keeps getting deeper and deeper, like it’s trying to crawl back up inside. Then your bladder falls out.”
“Huh!” Patricia started to laugh and then stopped. “Onto the ground?”
“No, it is still attached but it just hangs out. Your womb and backside can fall out too.”
I looked at Mama to rebut this outrageous claim. “Not everyone, just some,” she said, keeping her eyes on her needle.
“What do you do?” I was not sure how, being the daughter of a doctor, that I did not know these things.
“Poke it back up,” Mrs. Goad answered. “We used to keep a board propped up against a tree stump. When it happened while we were working in the field we would lay down with our legs up the board and push it back in and get back to work.”
“There are also pessaries that can be used to help keep it up,” Mama said in a subdued voice.
“Does that have something to do with pissing?” I whispered.
“No. It’s a pessary, not a pissery,” she whispered back.
Patricia and I stared at each other, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. I resolved right then and there not to grow old. I looked around the group and wondered how many were sitting on their insides and shriveled up parts at that very moment.
“Then your shoulders lock up.” Mrs. Goad produced a long, liquid cough.
I looked again at Mama. She sighed and shrugged. “It sometimes happens. Most seem to be women in their fifties for some reason.”
“How long does it last?” Mrs. Conner asked.
“Year or so. Freezes up like a block of ice and hurts like the dickens.” Mrs. Goad grabbed her shoulder in memory.
“I apologize to you, Mrs. Rockwell and Carolina,” Mama said. “Our conversations are usually a bit more dignified.”
Mrs. Rockwell looked stymied, probably thinking she should have kept her hot flush to herself. She let go of Ruby’s hand so they could get back to work.
Meet Author Belle Blackburn.
..
I was the little nerdette with a library card in my kindergarten hand, reading the kiddie books and planning what I would write. Come college time accounting seemed a more certain way to bring in a dollar so journalism was a minor. Writing was put on the back burner while dollars were made and kids and parents were raised, however, reading was always on the front burner. A conversation with my husband 20 years earlier about suicide vs. murder percolated in the back of my mind and then announced it wanted to be written. I obeyed and out came The Doctor’s Daughter: Journey to Justice. The history of Nashville during the Civil War is just so interesting and so important at that time but most people won’t sit down with a history book so I sneaked the history and the antebellum law and medicine in with a good story.
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Links to Belle’s website, blog, books, etc.
Website: belleblackburn.com
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Doctors-Daughter-Choice-Belle-Blackburn-ebook/dp/B01GD7CPKQ/
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**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Belle will give away an ebook copy of THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER, THE CHOIE to one reader who comments on her Karen’s Killer Book Bench blog. Thanks, Belle, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
May 2, 2017
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Barefoot Days (Women of Whitfield Book 3) by Darlene Deluca
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
~~
BAREFOOT DAYS
Women of Whitfield Book 3
BY DARLENE DELUCA
Blurb
Mary Logan believes in the goodness of people. She believes in grace under pressure. But when the ugliness of human nature touches her family, and a series of seismic events shake up her world, she’s put to the test again and again.
She and her husband are supposed to be enjoying the benefits of early retirement. Their nest is empty. It’s time to travel and re-focus. It’s their time. Then an alarming diagnosis and an unexpected announcement from their daughter change everything. Facing the possibility of heart-wrenching loss, Mary finds herself breaking commitments, forcing smiles, and keeping secrets.
Until now, her cup has always been half full. Will a positive outlook be enough to withstand the challenges ahead?
Genre: Women’s fiction. It’s the third book in a trilogy about a group of friends in a small Kansas town.
BAREFOOT DAYS
Women of Whitfield Book 3
BY DARLENE DELUCA
Excerpt
Evening meetings were always harder to get motivated for. The days were getting shorter and colder, and curling up at home in front of the television sounded better and better. At least people were usually in a good mood for this one. Even if they’d had a rough week, everyone would be looking forward to Friday – a sure-fire mood-lifter. Mary shrugged into her denim jacket, said goodbye to Grant, and backed the Acura out of the garage. She considered switching on the seat heater, but figured the warmth could easily lull her to sleep.
Climbing out of the car, Mary took a moment to let the cool night air blow against her face. Then, heels tapping against the tiled floors, she walked into the meeting at the Legion Hall – and looked straight into the icy stare of Regina Daniels. Caught off guard, Mary froze in the doorway. Was it her imagination, or had the room gone silent? Mary sucked in a deep breath. This had to end. She’d speak to Regina tonight and settle this if it killed her. The chairs on either side of Regina were already taken, so Mary smiled and took a seat across the table. But when Regina got up to refill her coffee, Mary made a beeline for the coffee station.
“Regina,” she said, her voice low. “Listen, I want to tell you how sorry I am, Grant and I both are, about Bobby losing his job.
Regina turned, eyebrows raised. “Why are you sorry? Was it your fault?”
Taken aback, Mary faltered. “Well, no. Of course not. We had no idea this was coming. Still, we feel bad about–”
“I hear you’re planning some kind of pity session for everyone. Helping people write resumes or something.”
Mary’s face flushed hot, and it took a moment to find her voice. “Excuse me? A pity session? What are you talking about? I– I’m helping the community center organize a job search event. It’s for the whole community. We hope people laid off from Essex will take advantage of it, but–”
“Feeling guilty? Is that it?”
“Since when does someone have to be guilty to want to do something good, Regina? I don’t understand. What’s bad about trying to help out?” And how the hell had she found out about the workshop?
“Right. This is so typical. You sit up there in your fancy house – like kings in your castle, and you want everyone to love you for tossing out a bone to the rest of us. Well, get over yourself. No one wants your help.”
Someone cleared her throat, and they both turned toward the conference table. “Ladies, I think it’s about time to get started.” A wide-eyed Gloria Swanson, president of the auxiliary, stared at them.
With a shaking hand, Mary lifted her cup and returned to her chair. She picked up the papers in front of her and looked at them without seeing a thing. She heard almost nothing of the meeting, and contributed the same. They sometimes got into debates about programs and procedures or something as trivial as a menu item, but never had Mary been publicly attacked like this. She didn’t move her head until Kelly Jessup, also a member of her book club, nudged her arm and pushed a tablet toward her.
Don’t worry about her, the note read. Mary almost smiled. Passing notes at their age. She drew in a calming breath and turned her attention to their VP of finance. When Gloria declared the meeting adjourned what seemed like hours later, Mary gave Kelly’s arm a squeeze. “Thanks,” she whispered. She hurried around the table, determined to have a last word with her adversary.
“Regina, wait.”
Regina stopped and sent Mary a long-suffering look.
“Listen, I just want to clear the air,” Mary said. “I understand you’re upset. I– we don’t want to make things worse. We want to help however we can.”
“Haven’t you done enough, already? You can’t just butt out, can you? Good God, you want to run the whole damn town. The City Council. Every committee. Every event. What’s next, running for mayor?”
Not a bad idea, was the first thing that popped into Mary’s head. Thankfully, it didn’t come out her mouth as well. Grant had, in fact, been approached about running for mayor a few years back. He’d considered it, and had tucked the notion in his back pocket for possible retirement. And Mary had been appointed to the council when Simon Pritchett and his family had moved after the tornado. She was simply finishing his term. It certainly wasn’t a control thing. They loved Whitfield, wanted to be involved. Wanted to see it thrive, and be a part of that. That was the fun of living in a small town.
With all the poise she could muster, Mary spoke quietly. “Losing a job is never an easy thing to deal with,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice from quivering. “I hope Bobby finds an even better job and discovers some new opportunities that–”
Regina gave a harsh scoff, and turned away. “Oh, he will.”
Mary headed for her car with much less pep in her step than when she’d arrived. Inside, she rolled her neck, and ignored the buzzing of her phone. In the short distance back home, she mulled Regina’s words. Of course the woman was angry. Mary could understand that. What she didn’t understand was the need some people had to cast blame when something bad happened. For whatever reason, they couldn’t accept that bad things just . . . happened.
Anyway, she refused to take it personally. She’d do what she could to help, and she and Grant would go on with their lives, participating and being contributing members of the community.
Still, the idea of having an enemy didn’t set well
Meet Author Darlene Deluca. ..
Darlene Deluca writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction, and likes to explore relationships – what brings people together or keeps them apart. Her intent is to bring to life interesting characters that readers can relate to in real-life situations that combine a little fun, plenty of drama, and big helpings of friendship, love and self-discovery, and will leave you either cheering or sighing with a satisfied smile as you turn the final page.
Darlene has been a reader and writer since childhood, and began her career as a newspaper reporter. She writes day or night, whenever the words/mood/deadlines strike, and almost always has a cup of tea and a bit of dark chocolate nearby!
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Links to Darlene’s website, blog, books, etc.
Website: www.darlenedeluca.com
Buy in the Apple store:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/barefoot-days/id1229855960?mt=11
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**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Darlene will give away a digital copy of BAREFOOT DAYS, the final book in her Women of Whitfield trilogy, to one reader who comments on her **Author Peek** Interview or Karen’s Killer Book Bench blogs. Thanks, Darlene, for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
