Bette Maybee's Blog
January 11, 2015
IT'S TIME TO CELEBRATE!!
EVERNIGHT TEEN turns two this month and we’re having a huge party to celebrate! It may be EVERNIGHT TEEN’s birthday, but you get the presents. So, grab a piece of cake, hop from blog-to-blog and discover EVERNIGHT TEEN! Be sure to visit every stop on the hop and answer each question. The more you blogs you hop, the more chances to win the GRAND PRIZE of an iPad Mini sponsored by EVERNIGHT TEEN (one entry per blog). Plus, hop each blog for a host of other fabulous prizes. Have your TBR list handy because we have lots of new titles for you to add, including my featured book, PHOENIX: THE RISING! Two years ago on January 10, I celebrated my birthday with the release of my first novel, PHOENIX: THE RISING. It was the launching title for the new teen imprint, Evernight Teen, which now has over 30 fantastic titles! PTR is still one of their top three sellers and even maintained the top seller spot for over 15 months, a fact which I still find mind-boggling, considering the fantastic titles that followed mine. But that stat is because of YOU, my readers. Thank you for believing in me and Evernight Teen!
For a chance to win EVERNIGHT TEEN’s GRAND PRIZE of an iPad Mini and my blog prize, a $10 Evernight Teen gift card, click on my “Excerpt” page and read the first excerpt that begins “Three hundred years ago…”. Once you’ve read the excerpt, answer the question below in the comments section following this post. Be sure to include your email address to be eligible to win! The question is: Why did Laylah hide herself and the Fire Child under the basket in the council shelter?
The birthday blog hop continues here: http://evernightteen.blogspot.com/
January 10, 2015
BIRTHDAY BLAST!
My idea of the perfect birthday is being able to spend my day at home, at my computer, writing with no other distractions, no other pressing demands pulling me away from what I really want to do. I think if you asked just about any writer how they'd like to spend their day, they would describe a similar scenario. So, here I am, sitting once again in my own little corner, in my own little chair, diving headfirst into my own little imaginary world. I love it!
As my birthday present to all of you, I thought I'd treat you to a birthday scene from THE TIP TOP CAFE', the first of the Four Sisters series I'm querying. Liza Erickson, our heroine, is turning 18 (and happens to have the same birthday is Yours Truly **wink-wink-nod-nod**) and gets a visit from our yummy hero, Jacob Gallagher. Enjoy!
My eighteenth birthday fell on a Saturday, and I, of course, had to get up early to work. The Tip Top Café wasn’t going to shut down just because it was my birthday. Jake had to drive Emma to the airport in Des Moines mid-morning. She was flying out to see her sister in Amarillo for the next two weeks, so I didn’t expect to see him until after the 5:30 mass, which, of course, he was helping Father Kelly with. I was used to Jake’s absence between 4:30 and 6:30 on Saturdays, and was even a little jealous of the fact that he was so devoted to this. It’s not that I’m a heathen or anything; I’m just Lutheran. Church is supposed to be on Sunday mornings. It’s just not natural.January 10th turned out to be an unusually beautiful day. It was warming up and was expected to hit the low forties. That’s shorts weather in Iowa. The town was buzzing with activity, and it seemed we were busier than usual at the café. Even Evelyn, one of those strange old birds who frequent the Tip Top, ventured out to grab some pie and coffee. Evelyn is barely five feet tall and one of the skinniest people I’ve ever met. Every Saturday she wears her red polyester outfit with a matching red hat. Her stiff, awkward gait makes me wonder sometimes if she isn’t really a robot. I wouldn’t be surprised if her batteries ran out one day and she just totally shut down in the middle of drinking her coffee. At about 1:30 we started to shut things down. I was helping Mom clean the grill when the back door opened, and in walked Jake. I ran up and threw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.“I am so glad you’re here!” “Wow! Nice greeting.” Jake pried me loose, backed up, then smiled. “Happy birthday, Eliza!” He whipped his right hand up, holding a single long-stemmed red rose, or rather, what had once been long-stemmed. The stem was cracked in the middle and the bloom hung awkwardly to the side.I raised my eyebrows, looking at the wonderful, pitiful thing. “Gee, thanks Jake. It’s ... beautiful.” Jake was staring at his gift. “Oops. Sorry. It must have broken when you attacked, I mean, hugged, me.”“I don’t care.” I took the rose, stood it upright, and breathed in its glory. It really was the most beautiful thing I had ever been given.“It’s from you, and I love it.” I cupped his face in my hand, and gave him a quick kiss, remembering not to carry things too far. I’d learned a lot this past month. Mom filled a vase with water. I cut the stem at the break, placed it in the vase, and set it on the kitchen windowsill. I stared at it for a moment, and bit my lower lip. It was the first real rose I ever received, not counting the corsage from the dance ... and I had gotten it from him. I turned around to find Jake staring at me with a thoughtful grin on his face. He was obviously enjoying my reaction to this simple gift. I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him gently. “I really do love it, Jake.” My heart was beginning to pound. Please don’t notice!“Well, Miss Erickson,” Jake explained as he held me close, ignoring my obviously out of control heart, “I couldn’t wait until tonight to see you, so I thought I’d make a little surprise visit. There’s no way I would come empty-handed.” He snuggled his nose into my hair and breathed deeply. “Mmm. Eliza Jayne, you smell so good.”I backed away. Cripes! I knew exactly what I smelled like. “I smell like French fries!” I cried, horrified.Jake smiled crookedly. “I know. Makes my mouth water.” He winked. Mom took that as her cue, and popped an order of fries in the deep fryer.“I’ll have a batch ready in just a minute, Jake,” she smiled. Jake walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re my favorite, Mom!” Mom touched the spot Jake had kissed, and turned three shades of red.“Now, you stop that!”She was smitten. It was hard not to be.“You better make it to go.” He looked over at me as he sat on a stool. “I’ve got things to take care of. Shopping to do. Plans to make.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. God, he was so sexy sitting there! He had one leg splayed out with the heel of the boot on his other foot hooked onto the middle rung of the stool. He leaned back, draping his elbows on the counter behind him. It was taking every bit of willpower I had in my body not to pounce and make him mine, right there, in front of my mother. I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes as I tried to get the picture running through my mind to leave. The fryer ‘dinged’ the image right out of my head, and I pulled out the fries, flipping them into the draining tray. I sprinkled a smidgen of salt on them and packed them in the bag. Jake’s eyes were focused on mine, and he had this smug grin on his face as I stood about two feet away, holding the bag out to him. He grabbed my wrist and slowly pulled me towards him. I found myself standing in the crook of his legs, a very uncomfortable, very wonderful position to be stuck in. Mom high-tailed it for the dining room, pulling Anne by the arm behind her. I kept my eyes focused on his, giving him my own version of the ‘evil eye’.“You are a dirty bird, Jacob Gallagher!” I accused, shoving the bag into his chest. “You think you can break me, don’t you?” I was dangerously close to the melting point, but there was no way I would admit this to him.He slid off the stool. I didn’t budge an inch, forcing the length of his body to slide up mine as he stood. I stood on my tip-toes, raised my lips to his ear, and whispered heavily, “Two can play this game ... remember that.” I punctuated that with a soft brush of my open lips and a slight flick of my tongue just under his ear.“Holy Mary ...!” Jake grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back. “Okay, Eliza, you really need to control yourself. It was just a little test.” Jake beat it for the door with me in pursuit.“I AM in control, or haven’t you noticed?” Jake disappeared out the door before I finished my sentence. I grabbed the handle to the upright freezer when Jake suddenly stuck his head back inside.“Eliza Jayne, wear something special tonight. I have a little surprise for you. I’ll pick you up at eight.”Still holding the handle of the freezer, I swung towards him, grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me, kissing him full on the lips.“You won’t be able to handle what I wear tonight, Jacob.” I ended that with a lift of my own eyebrow. The look on his face was laughable as he backed out the door. As soon as he was gone, I opened the freezer door and stuck my head inside, pressing my face against a bag of frozen peas. Holy Mary ...!
As my birthday present to all of you, I thought I'd treat you to a birthday scene from THE TIP TOP CAFE', the first of the Four Sisters series I'm querying. Liza Erickson, our heroine, is turning 18 (and happens to have the same birthday is Yours Truly **wink-wink-nod-nod**) and gets a visit from our yummy hero, Jacob Gallagher. Enjoy!
My eighteenth birthday fell on a Saturday, and I, of course, had to get up early to work. The Tip Top Café wasn’t going to shut down just because it was my birthday. Jake had to drive Emma to the airport in Des Moines mid-morning. She was flying out to see her sister in Amarillo for the next two weeks, so I didn’t expect to see him until after the 5:30 mass, which, of course, he was helping Father Kelly with. I was used to Jake’s absence between 4:30 and 6:30 on Saturdays, and was even a little jealous of the fact that he was so devoted to this. It’s not that I’m a heathen or anything; I’m just Lutheran. Church is supposed to be on Sunday mornings. It’s just not natural.January 10th turned out to be an unusually beautiful day. It was warming up and was expected to hit the low forties. That’s shorts weather in Iowa. The town was buzzing with activity, and it seemed we were busier than usual at the café. Even Evelyn, one of those strange old birds who frequent the Tip Top, ventured out to grab some pie and coffee. Evelyn is barely five feet tall and one of the skinniest people I’ve ever met. Every Saturday she wears her red polyester outfit with a matching red hat. Her stiff, awkward gait makes me wonder sometimes if she isn’t really a robot. I wouldn’t be surprised if her batteries ran out one day and she just totally shut down in the middle of drinking her coffee. At about 1:30 we started to shut things down. I was helping Mom clean the grill when the back door opened, and in walked Jake. I ran up and threw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.“I am so glad you’re here!” “Wow! Nice greeting.” Jake pried me loose, backed up, then smiled. “Happy birthday, Eliza!” He whipped his right hand up, holding a single long-stemmed red rose, or rather, what had once been long-stemmed. The stem was cracked in the middle and the bloom hung awkwardly to the side.I raised my eyebrows, looking at the wonderful, pitiful thing. “Gee, thanks Jake. It’s ... beautiful.” Jake was staring at his gift. “Oops. Sorry. It must have broken when you attacked, I mean, hugged, me.”“I don’t care.” I took the rose, stood it upright, and breathed in its glory. It really was the most beautiful thing I had ever been given.“It’s from you, and I love it.” I cupped his face in my hand, and gave him a quick kiss, remembering not to carry things too far. I’d learned a lot this past month. Mom filled a vase with water. I cut the stem at the break, placed it in the vase, and set it on the kitchen windowsill. I stared at it for a moment, and bit my lower lip. It was the first real rose I ever received, not counting the corsage from the dance ... and I had gotten it from him. I turned around to find Jake staring at me with a thoughtful grin on his face. He was obviously enjoying my reaction to this simple gift. I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him gently. “I really do love it, Jake.” My heart was beginning to pound. Please don’t notice!“Well, Miss Erickson,” Jake explained as he held me close, ignoring my obviously out of control heart, “I couldn’t wait until tonight to see you, so I thought I’d make a little surprise visit. There’s no way I would come empty-handed.” He snuggled his nose into my hair and breathed deeply. “Mmm. Eliza Jayne, you smell so good.”I backed away. Cripes! I knew exactly what I smelled like. “I smell like French fries!” I cried, horrified.Jake smiled crookedly. “I know. Makes my mouth water.” He winked. Mom took that as her cue, and popped an order of fries in the deep fryer.“I’ll have a batch ready in just a minute, Jake,” she smiled. Jake walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re my favorite, Mom!” Mom touched the spot Jake had kissed, and turned three shades of red.“Now, you stop that!”She was smitten. It was hard not to be.“You better make it to go.” He looked over at me as he sat on a stool. “I’ve got things to take care of. Shopping to do. Plans to make.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. God, he was so sexy sitting there! He had one leg splayed out with the heel of the boot on his other foot hooked onto the middle rung of the stool. He leaned back, draping his elbows on the counter behind him. It was taking every bit of willpower I had in my body not to pounce and make him mine, right there, in front of my mother. I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes as I tried to get the picture running through my mind to leave. The fryer ‘dinged’ the image right out of my head, and I pulled out the fries, flipping them into the draining tray. I sprinkled a smidgen of salt on them and packed them in the bag. Jake’s eyes were focused on mine, and he had this smug grin on his face as I stood about two feet away, holding the bag out to him. He grabbed my wrist and slowly pulled me towards him. I found myself standing in the crook of his legs, a very uncomfortable, very wonderful position to be stuck in. Mom high-tailed it for the dining room, pulling Anne by the arm behind her. I kept my eyes focused on his, giving him my own version of the ‘evil eye’.“You are a dirty bird, Jacob Gallagher!” I accused, shoving the bag into his chest. “You think you can break me, don’t you?” I was dangerously close to the melting point, but there was no way I would admit this to him.He slid off the stool. I didn’t budge an inch, forcing the length of his body to slide up mine as he stood. I stood on my tip-toes, raised my lips to his ear, and whispered heavily, “Two can play this game ... remember that.” I punctuated that with a soft brush of my open lips and a slight flick of my tongue just under his ear.“Holy Mary ...!” Jake grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back. “Okay, Eliza, you really need to control yourself. It was just a little test.” Jake beat it for the door with me in pursuit.“I AM in control, or haven’t you noticed?” Jake disappeared out the door before I finished my sentence. I grabbed the handle to the upright freezer when Jake suddenly stuck his head back inside.“Eliza Jayne, wear something special tonight. I have a little surprise for you. I’ll pick you up at eight.”Still holding the handle of the freezer, I swung towards him, grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me, kissing him full on the lips.“You won’t be able to handle what I wear tonight, Jacob.” I ended that with a lift of my own eyebrow. The look on his face was laughable as he backed out the door. As soon as he was gone, I opened the freezer door and stuck my head inside, pressing my face against a bag of frozen peas. Holy Mary ...!
November 28, 2014
GETTIN' YOUR BETTE ON...
Okay. I admit it. I am no domestic goddess. Besides not being overly concerned about a dusty shelf or a counter sprinkled with dirty dishes, I cringe as holidays approach, knowing that I owe it to my family to make an effort to decorate for the season. But, no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to conjure my inner June Cleaver (except for soup making...an art at which I excel). So when I walked in the front door the other day after work and discovered that a Christmas Wonderland had exploded in my house (courtesy of my holiday-loving husband) I was ecstatic at the thought that I wouldn't have to spend my few free hours in the evening trying to find the perfect spot for the fourteen boxes of nutcrackers, Santas, snowmen, and angels we had lugged up from the basement the day before. My evenings could now be devoted to GETTIN' MY BETTE ON! No, I'm not talking about baking. (The only Christmas pumpkin pie smells you'll find here will be coming from the scented candles my husband placed in each room.) My BETTE is a writer, not a pie-maker. My BETTE is an idea-generator, not a cookie decorator. So, I'm writing. Developing story ideas. Searching out the perfect literary agents and publishing houses to query for my TIP TOP CAFE' series.
I'm also curious. How do you get your BETTE (replace my name with yours) on? I'd love to read your comments, which you can leave below (and while you're at it, I'd also love for you to follow my blog.)
Oh, I almost forgot. Here's another snippet from my current manuscript, MOONFLOWER ROAD. Enjoy!
Collin watched as Jeannie turned and rushed out of the kitchen. He was exhausted, but not too tired to notice the gentle sway and roll of her hips as she exited. He felt a familiar tug deep in his groin. Stop it, you fool! A damned woman’s the reason you ended up in Iowa in the first place! That did it. Thinking about Annette was like throwing water on a fire. Not a pleasant feeling, but it produced the desired effect. He’d be armed and ready with those deflating thoughts and whip them out when the temptation became too great.The bathroom ended up being a combination bathroom/laundry room. Figuring he could kill two birds with one stone, Collin ran a bath instead of opting for a shower. That way he could run his clothes through the washer while he bathed, which was an absolute necessity since what he wore was the only set of clothes he owned right at the moment. At least he had enough sense to figure that he probably couldn’t attempt a shower and run the washer at the same time without either getting scalded or getting a blast of cold water as the washer moved through its cycles.Removing wet jeans was harder than Collin realized. After falling over twice, and ramming one knee on the corner of the counter, he finally succeeded by stepping on the bottom of one pant leg and yanking his leg out, then repeating the process with the other leg. Good thing Jeannie wasn’t witnessing this. She would have had a good laugh and never let him forget it. Only after peeling off every stitch of clothing, throwing them into the washer, and deciphering the instructions on how to run the damned thing, did Collin allow himself to slip into the glorious, hot water. He leaned back and slid under, soaked his hair, then lathered up, and slid under again, running his hands through his hair to get out all the shampoo. Son of a... He looked down at his stinging hands. Blisters, ripped open from the repetitive movement of the scraper, dotted the palm of his right hand. Sitting behind a desk for the last ten years had softened him up. His skin wasn’t used to this much manual labor. Well, he’d have to grin and bear it. They’d have time to heal up a bit after the bath. Plus, he could just wear gloves tomorrow. After giving himself a scrubdown, he settled back into the tub and closed his eyes. He’d have time to rest just a bit before he would have to move his clothes from the washer to the dryer...#Bam-Bam-Bam!Collin’s eyes flew open. He was up to his nose in cold water in a bathtub in a strange bathroom. Bam-Bam-Bam! Someone was pounding at the door. Jeannie! He regained his senses, remembering where he was as he hauled himself out of the tub.“I’m taking a bath!” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.“You’ve been in there for almost two hours, and, might I remind you that this is the only working bathroom in the house?” Two hours? I must have fallen asleep! Collin ran over to the washer, grabbed his clothes and tossed them into the dryer. “I need to dry my clothes.”“Just get dressed and get out of there, unless of course you want me to pee in the bushes.”Collin held onto the towel with one hand, and opened the door with the other. Jeannie’s jaw dropped as her eyes flashed down to the towel. “Sorry, but the rest of my clothes were stolen out of my saddlebag.”She squeezed her eyes shut, then grabbed the knob of the door and slammed it shut.“Just wait. Don’t come out.”Collin could hear her feet pad across the room, up the stairs and across the floor above him. It was quiet for about ten seconds, then the sound returned as she retraced her steps. Within a few seconds, she knocked quietly at the door.“Yes?”“I have a robe you can borrow until your clothes dry.”The door inched open and she stuck her hand through the opening. Collin peeked out to see that she had turned her head to the side. Her eyes were pinched shut. He smiled to himself. The naïveté and innocence of these Midwestern girls was so unlike anything he’d encountered in New York. This woman was actually flustered! He took the navy blue terrycloth, and she snatched her hand away.***“Just hurry, will you?”Jeannie heard a click behind her. Within a few seconds, the door opened. She turned to see Collin standing in front of the door wearing Jason’s robe. It didn’t help. He might as well have been naked. She already knew what he looked like underneath—well, at least from the hips up, and what she had seen a few minutes ago had knocked the breath from her. His tanned torso and rippling abs had been forever etched into her mind, burned onto her retinas, and she could just imagine them under the robe...“It’s all yours!”Jeannie blinked, confused as she came out of her brief reverie. “What?”Collin smiled. “The bathroom. You said you’d prefer the bathroom to the bushes.”Jeannie’s face shot a blazing red once again. She knew why he was smiling. That smug, son of a bitch was getting a kick out of this…out of watching her ogle him like a star-struck teenager. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and brushed past him, trying to preserve some thread of near non-existent dignity.“Right. It’s about time.”Collin turned to face her, but she slammed the door and threw her back against it before he could say a word. She held her breath, waiting to hear retreating footsteps. Instead, she heard a low chuckle.“You’re welcome.”Jeannie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. Shit. What have I gotten myself into?
I'm also curious. How do you get your BETTE (replace my name with yours) on? I'd love to read your comments, which you can leave below (and while you're at it, I'd also love for you to follow my blog.)
Oh, I almost forgot. Here's another snippet from my current manuscript, MOONFLOWER ROAD. Enjoy!
Collin watched as Jeannie turned and rushed out of the kitchen. He was exhausted, but not too tired to notice the gentle sway and roll of her hips as she exited. He felt a familiar tug deep in his groin. Stop it, you fool! A damned woman’s the reason you ended up in Iowa in the first place! That did it. Thinking about Annette was like throwing water on a fire. Not a pleasant feeling, but it produced the desired effect. He’d be armed and ready with those deflating thoughts and whip them out when the temptation became too great.The bathroom ended up being a combination bathroom/laundry room. Figuring he could kill two birds with one stone, Collin ran a bath instead of opting for a shower. That way he could run his clothes through the washer while he bathed, which was an absolute necessity since what he wore was the only set of clothes he owned right at the moment. At least he had enough sense to figure that he probably couldn’t attempt a shower and run the washer at the same time without either getting scalded or getting a blast of cold water as the washer moved through its cycles.Removing wet jeans was harder than Collin realized. After falling over twice, and ramming one knee on the corner of the counter, he finally succeeded by stepping on the bottom of one pant leg and yanking his leg out, then repeating the process with the other leg. Good thing Jeannie wasn’t witnessing this. She would have had a good laugh and never let him forget it. Only after peeling off every stitch of clothing, throwing them into the washer, and deciphering the instructions on how to run the damned thing, did Collin allow himself to slip into the glorious, hot water. He leaned back and slid under, soaked his hair, then lathered up, and slid under again, running his hands through his hair to get out all the shampoo. Son of a... He looked down at his stinging hands. Blisters, ripped open from the repetitive movement of the scraper, dotted the palm of his right hand. Sitting behind a desk for the last ten years had softened him up. His skin wasn’t used to this much manual labor. Well, he’d have to grin and bear it. They’d have time to heal up a bit after the bath. Plus, he could just wear gloves tomorrow. After giving himself a scrubdown, he settled back into the tub and closed his eyes. He’d have time to rest just a bit before he would have to move his clothes from the washer to the dryer...#Bam-Bam-Bam!Collin’s eyes flew open. He was up to his nose in cold water in a bathtub in a strange bathroom. Bam-Bam-Bam! Someone was pounding at the door. Jeannie! He regained his senses, remembering where he was as he hauled himself out of the tub.“I’m taking a bath!” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.“You’ve been in there for almost two hours, and, might I remind you that this is the only working bathroom in the house?” Two hours? I must have fallen asleep! Collin ran over to the washer, grabbed his clothes and tossed them into the dryer. “I need to dry my clothes.”“Just get dressed and get out of there, unless of course you want me to pee in the bushes.”Collin held onto the towel with one hand, and opened the door with the other. Jeannie’s jaw dropped as her eyes flashed down to the towel. “Sorry, but the rest of my clothes were stolen out of my saddlebag.”She squeezed her eyes shut, then grabbed the knob of the door and slammed it shut.“Just wait. Don’t come out.”Collin could hear her feet pad across the room, up the stairs and across the floor above him. It was quiet for about ten seconds, then the sound returned as she retraced her steps. Within a few seconds, she knocked quietly at the door.“Yes?”“I have a robe you can borrow until your clothes dry.”The door inched open and she stuck her hand through the opening. Collin peeked out to see that she had turned her head to the side. Her eyes were pinched shut. He smiled to himself. The naïveté and innocence of these Midwestern girls was so unlike anything he’d encountered in New York. This woman was actually flustered! He took the navy blue terrycloth, and she snatched her hand away.***“Just hurry, will you?”Jeannie heard a click behind her. Within a few seconds, the door opened. She turned to see Collin standing in front of the door wearing Jason’s robe. It didn’t help. He might as well have been naked. She already knew what he looked like underneath—well, at least from the hips up, and what she had seen a few minutes ago had knocked the breath from her. His tanned torso and rippling abs had been forever etched into her mind, burned onto her retinas, and she could just imagine them under the robe...“It’s all yours!”Jeannie blinked, confused as she came out of her brief reverie. “What?”Collin smiled. “The bathroom. You said you’d prefer the bathroom to the bushes.”Jeannie’s face shot a blazing red once again. She knew why he was smiling. That smug, son of a bitch was getting a kick out of this…out of watching her ogle him like a star-struck teenager. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and brushed past him, trying to preserve some thread of near non-existent dignity.“Right. It’s about time.”Collin turned to face her, but she slammed the door and threw her back against it before he could say a word. She held her breath, waiting to hear retreating footsteps. Instead, she heard a low chuckle.“You’re welcome.”Jeannie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. Shit. What have I gotten myself into?
October 24, 2014
Evernight Teen 99 Cent Specials--WOOT!!
I LOVE it when we have special promotions on Evernight Teen!! So, if you didn't get your e-copy of my novel, PHOENIX: THE RISING, here is your chance to get it for $0.99 (that's 99 pennies, folks!) Let's move it up to that Top Seller position again! :)
September 15, 2014
Things are heating up on MOONFLOWER ROAD...
And, as promised, once again, here's a final little snippet of MOONFLOWER ROAD, giving you a taste of some sparks that are soon about to fly....Enjoy!!
Jeannie flipped the light off in her room and peeked out her bedroom window just in time to see Collin ascend the steps of the pool in all his naked glory. She gasped and jumped away from the window, pressing her body against the wall. The pounding of her heart amplified against the daisy-patterned wallpaper and she knew at that moment she was going to look again. Dropping to her knees, she inched her way across the floor, and slowly peeked over the window sill. The lights around the pool illuminated Collin’s glistening muscles as he grabbed a towel off a deck chair and wiped his face and arms. She moaned as he wrapped it around his waist. Oh my god, I’ve turned into a peeping Tom!
As if on cue, his head snapped in her direction and she dropped to her stomach. Shit! Did he see me? Blood shot to her cheeks and she scrunched her eyes shut. He saw me! I just know he saw me! Frozen to the spot, she pressed her ear to the floor and waited until she heard the screen door slam before she rose and made her way over to her bed.
Jeannie pulled her lone bikini bottoms off, then grabbed a camisole out of her dresser drawer and a matching pair of panties and threw them on her bed. She flicked on the small lamp on her nightstand and was immediately faced with the reflection of her naked body in her dressing mirror. I wonder what he thought when he saw me? She let her eyes trail down the length of her body. Did he find me attractive? She allowed herself a brief glance at her breasts. They still looked pretty good. Very good, as a matter of fact. She thought she saw a smile on Collin’s face as he ogled them. The thought elicited a warm glow in her cheeks. Her eyes dropped lower. She even had a hint of abs. Definitely not a “hard body”, but better than most of her friends from high school. Most of them already had a couple of kids. Of course, they also didn’t have a husband, or, more precisely, ex-husband, doing time in a state penitentiary. She drew her hand across the smooth flatness of her abdomen. Obviously the lack of the effects of motherhood were a good thing…at least that’s what most people would think. Footsteps in the hallway halted the route her mind was taking. She wiped away the lone tear that had mysteriously appeared on her cheek, jumped into her panties, and pulled the camisole over her head just as she heard the knock. He’s knocking at my door. My bedroom door.She wanted to jump in bed and pull the covers over her head, but she knew she couldn’t...
Jeannie flipped the light off in her room and peeked out her bedroom window just in time to see Collin ascend the steps of the pool in all his naked glory. She gasped and jumped away from the window, pressing her body against the wall. The pounding of her heart amplified against the daisy-patterned wallpaper and she knew at that moment she was going to look again. Dropping to her knees, she inched her way across the floor, and slowly peeked over the window sill. The lights around the pool illuminated Collin’s glistening muscles as he grabbed a towel off a deck chair and wiped his face and arms. She moaned as he wrapped it around his waist. Oh my god, I’ve turned into a peeping Tom!
As if on cue, his head snapped in her direction and she dropped to her stomach. Shit! Did he see me? Blood shot to her cheeks and she scrunched her eyes shut. He saw me! I just know he saw me! Frozen to the spot, she pressed her ear to the floor and waited until she heard the screen door slam before she rose and made her way over to her bed.
Jeannie pulled her lone bikini bottoms off, then grabbed a camisole out of her dresser drawer and a matching pair of panties and threw them on her bed. She flicked on the small lamp on her nightstand and was immediately faced with the reflection of her naked body in her dressing mirror. I wonder what he thought when he saw me? She let her eyes trail down the length of her body. Did he find me attractive? She allowed herself a brief glance at her breasts. They still looked pretty good. Very good, as a matter of fact. She thought she saw a smile on Collin’s face as he ogled them. The thought elicited a warm glow in her cheeks. Her eyes dropped lower. She even had a hint of abs. Definitely not a “hard body”, but better than most of her friends from high school. Most of them already had a couple of kids. Of course, they also didn’t have a husband, or, more precisely, ex-husband, doing time in a state penitentiary. She drew her hand across the smooth flatness of her abdomen. Obviously the lack of the effects of motherhood were a good thing…at least that’s what most people would think. Footsteps in the hallway halted the route her mind was taking. She wiped away the lone tear that had mysteriously appeared on her cheek, jumped into her panties, and pulled the camisole over her head just as she heard the knock. He’s knocking at my door. My bedroom door.She wanted to jump in bed and pull the covers over her head, but she knew she couldn’t...
September 4, 2014
MOONFLOWER ROAD: Chapter One continued: HER
And now, as promised, it's time to meet the heroine of MOONFLOWER ROAD....
One month.
Hot, foreign tears threatened to spill down Jeannie Butler’s blanched cheeks as she scanned the page, trying to see beyond the bolded date of October 1, beyond the panic-inducing mention of foreclosure that popped up every few sentences. The tears threatened to spill, but she wouldn’t let them. Not this time. She’d had this feeling before. Two years earlier. The day she got the call. What was it that he said to her? I’m in trouble, honey? She cried the day she got that call—furious, crazed tears. Tears of dreams shattered, of love lost. She cried until there was nothing left. No tears, no anger, no love…and she hadn’t cried since. Jeannie squashed the final notice into a tight wad and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall then rebounded back at her, rolling to a quick stop in front of her bare feet.
When she looked back, she had to admit the signs were there even before she walked down the aisle. Jason liked to spend money on himself, and on her, and it made her giddy with ecstatic disbelief when he did. She’d grown up not knowing if her mom would have enough money to put food on the table since her father drank most of it away, so when Jason took her out to eat on a daily basis, bought her the clothes she’d never been able to afford on a teenage waitress’s pay, it didn’t enter her naïve mind at the time that gambling might be involved. By the end of their third year of marriage, six months after she took a second out on their dream home to finance the downpayment on the café, it was evident by the collection notices arriving on a regular basis that he was draining their savings account, not for paying bills as he claimed, but for some shady reason. Then the call came, and the next thing Jeannie knew, her husband was serving a seven year prison sentence for embezzlement and she was stuck paying off all his debts. He’d stolen almost everything from her, and now the bank was taking the last two things she held dear to her heart: her home and her beloved café.
Jeannie sighed and reached down, snatching the ball at her feet. She unrolled it as best she could and stretched it out, running the wrinkled sheet across her thigh in a lame attempt to iron it out. She folded the single sheet and stuffed it back into its envelope, then tucked the envelope and its contents into the front of the file cabinet beside the fridge, along with all the other letters. But this one was different. There would be no more letters after this. No more warnings. This was it.
She glanced at the pile of bills on the table, then to the picture of her, her three sisters and her mom at the grand opening which she’d attached with a rooster magnet to the side of the fridge. The original was on the wall at work, of course, in a fancy pewter frame she’d paid too much for. This was just a copy she made on her scanner, but it didn’t matter. Reading the caption still brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. Jeannie Butler, new owner of The Tip Top Café. She felt so proud at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Finally, she had something of her own. Something she could be proud of. A tear escaped. She brushed it away with a flick of her finger. One month. How could she tell them? What she needed was a miracle, because it was going to take a miracle to save the café, let alone her house.
One month.
Hot, foreign tears threatened to spill down Jeannie Butler’s blanched cheeks as she scanned the page, trying to see beyond the bolded date of October 1, beyond the panic-inducing mention of foreclosure that popped up every few sentences. The tears threatened to spill, but she wouldn’t let them. Not this time. She’d had this feeling before. Two years earlier. The day she got the call. What was it that he said to her? I’m in trouble, honey? She cried the day she got that call—furious, crazed tears. Tears of dreams shattered, of love lost. She cried until there was nothing left. No tears, no anger, no love…and she hadn’t cried since. Jeannie squashed the final notice into a tight wad and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall then rebounded back at her, rolling to a quick stop in front of her bare feet.
When she looked back, she had to admit the signs were there even before she walked down the aisle. Jason liked to spend money on himself, and on her, and it made her giddy with ecstatic disbelief when he did. She’d grown up not knowing if her mom would have enough money to put food on the table since her father drank most of it away, so when Jason took her out to eat on a daily basis, bought her the clothes she’d never been able to afford on a teenage waitress’s pay, it didn’t enter her naïve mind at the time that gambling might be involved. By the end of their third year of marriage, six months after she took a second out on their dream home to finance the downpayment on the café, it was evident by the collection notices arriving on a regular basis that he was draining their savings account, not for paying bills as he claimed, but for some shady reason. Then the call came, and the next thing Jeannie knew, her husband was serving a seven year prison sentence for embezzlement and she was stuck paying off all his debts. He’d stolen almost everything from her, and now the bank was taking the last two things she held dear to her heart: her home and her beloved café.
Jeannie sighed and reached down, snatching the ball at her feet. She unrolled it as best she could and stretched it out, running the wrinkled sheet across her thigh in a lame attempt to iron it out. She folded the single sheet and stuffed it back into its envelope, then tucked the envelope and its contents into the front of the file cabinet beside the fridge, along with all the other letters. But this one was different. There would be no more letters after this. No more warnings. This was it.
She glanced at the pile of bills on the table, then to the picture of her, her three sisters and her mom at the grand opening which she’d attached with a rooster magnet to the side of the fridge. The original was on the wall at work, of course, in a fancy pewter frame she’d paid too much for. This was just a copy she made on her scanner, but it didn’t matter. Reading the caption still brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. Jeannie Butler, new owner of The Tip Top Café. She felt so proud at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Finally, she had something of her own. Something she could be proud of. A tear escaped. She brushed it away with a flick of her finger. One month. How could she tell them? What she needed was a miracle, because it was going to take a miracle to save the café, let alone her house.
September 2, 2014
MOONFLOWER ROAD, Chapter One: Him
Soooo, I've been in a funk lately, especially since I took my last child, my baby, my only daughter, to college on Friday. Yesterday, after about four hours of sitting in my chair not accomplishing anything except watching Netflix and taking a two hour nap, my husband turned off the TV and suggested I find my muse and start writing again. With nothing else to lose since my baby was now gone, I opened up MOONFLOWER ROAD, primed the pump by reading my last chapter, and the writing began. Success! I added another thousand words in just a couple of hours! In honor of this auspicious occasion, over the next week I'll introduce you to both my main characters with my first chapter, then spice it up at the end of my celebration with my most recent scene, which is a little naughty, if I do say so myself!
And now, heeeeeere's Collin!
“Wish me luck, George.”
The moment the leather of his soles hit the cobblestone of 15 Central Park West, Collin Jamison knew there was no turning back. He flicked away the bead of perspiration trickling down his temple then tugged at the knot of his Lorenzo Cana charcoal silk. Her favorite. At least that’s what she said every time he wore the damn thing. Today it felt like a noose around his neck...choking him…taunting him to turn and run while he had a chance. He could broker multi-million dollar deals, bang heads with Trump and his cronies, but this one little deed, the utterance of four simple words, had him sweating like Fat Bastard in a Santa suit.
George closed the door behind him as only George could do. Noiselessly.
“Ain’t no such thing as luck, Mr. Jamison. Either the woman loves you, or she don’t.”
Collin’s hand slipped over the obscenely expensive lump in his jacket pocket for the millionth time that morning, seeking some type of palpable reassurance of the decision he’d made. Pffft. Of course she loves me. Who wouldn’t? I’m Collin Edward Jamison the III, heir to the largest real estate development firm in New York. Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor...
George raised an eyebrow.
He’s expecting me to say something like that…something cocky and self-absorbed. But George knew as well as he did that Annette Bradshaw, the willowy, raven-haired, thirty-year-old Wall Street attorney, was the love of his life. This time, George would have to settle for the truth instead of a smart-ass answer.
“She loves me.”
Silence.
Shit. Now what?
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? In case she chases you off with her briefcase?” George winked and let loose a throaty James Earl Jones laugh, the kind that seemed to start in his toes before working its way up to his deep baritone vocal cords. Collin couldn’t help but smile.
“I don’t plan on needing your services until later in the day, George.” Collin shot him his own wink. “Much later. Miss Bradshaw and I will have a bit of .... celebrating to do.” He tapped the lump one more time then headed for the door to Annette’s building.
“Wait!”
George’s booming voice stopped Collin in his tracks, the same way it did when he was eight years old and George caught him pissing in his mother’s rose bush. Ruined a perfectly good pair of Chuck’s that day. Collin turned, expecting George to give him one last tidbit of unsolicited fatherly advice, or at least a May the Force be with you. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man asked a woman to marry him, and George’s advice was the closest thing he’d be getting to anything fatherly. Instead, George held out a brown paper bag.
“You forgot your bagels ... and I think you’re gonna need your strength, Mr. Jamison. Celebrating takes a lot of energy.” George guffawed at his own joke and shoved the bag at Collin’s chest, but Collin blocked the assault before it crushed the Lorenzo Cana. Her favorite. Those two words followed on the tail of “Lorenzo Cana” as automatically as the succulent memory of her wearing nothing but that charcoal silk and an I’m gonna make you beg for mercy look in her mahogany eyes the day she gave it to him. The thought elicited a delicious but inconvenient tug in his groin. At least he didn’t feel like he was choking anymore.
“Thanks, old man.”
“Old? Who you calling old, you little pipsqueak?” George puffed his chest out like a rooster in a henhouse and strutted around the Mercedes to the driver’s door. “I’ve done more celebrating on a daily basis for the last thirty years than you’ll do in the next sixty. As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna head on home and do some celebrating myself, since you won’t be needing my services for the day.”
Collin chuckled. “You do that, George.”
George slid into the driver’s seat and, for the first time in recorded history, slammed the door of his beloved Mercedes. Holy shit! Seems I ruffled the old man’s feathers.
Collin turned and faced the nineteen story tower as George drove away, took a deep breath to calm his nerves, patted the lump in his pocket one more time, and smiled.
She loves me.
And now, heeeeeere's Collin!
“Wish me luck, George.”
The moment the leather of his soles hit the cobblestone of 15 Central Park West, Collin Jamison knew there was no turning back. He flicked away the bead of perspiration trickling down his temple then tugged at the knot of his Lorenzo Cana charcoal silk. Her favorite. At least that’s what she said every time he wore the damn thing. Today it felt like a noose around his neck...choking him…taunting him to turn and run while he had a chance. He could broker multi-million dollar deals, bang heads with Trump and his cronies, but this one little deed, the utterance of four simple words, had him sweating like Fat Bastard in a Santa suit.
George closed the door behind him as only George could do. Noiselessly.
“Ain’t no such thing as luck, Mr. Jamison. Either the woman loves you, or she don’t.”
Collin’s hand slipped over the obscenely expensive lump in his jacket pocket for the millionth time that morning, seeking some type of palpable reassurance of the decision he’d made. Pffft. Of course she loves me. Who wouldn’t? I’m Collin Edward Jamison the III, heir to the largest real estate development firm in New York. Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor...
George raised an eyebrow.
He’s expecting me to say something like that…something cocky and self-absorbed. But George knew as well as he did that Annette Bradshaw, the willowy, raven-haired, thirty-year-old Wall Street attorney, was the love of his life. This time, George would have to settle for the truth instead of a smart-ass answer.
“She loves me.”
Silence.
Shit. Now what?
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? In case she chases you off with her briefcase?” George winked and let loose a throaty James Earl Jones laugh, the kind that seemed to start in his toes before working its way up to his deep baritone vocal cords. Collin couldn’t help but smile.
“I don’t plan on needing your services until later in the day, George.” Collin shot him his own wink. “Much later. Miss Bradshaw and I will have a bit of .... celebrating to do.” He tapped the lump one more time then headed for the door to Annette’s building.
“Wait!”
George’s booming voice stopped Collin in his tracks, the same way it did when he was eight years old and George caught him pissing in his mother’s rose bush. Ruined a perfectly good pair of Chuck’s that day. Collin turned, expecting George to give him one last tidbit of unsolicited fatherly advice, or at least a May the Force be with you. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man asked a woman to marry him, and George’s advice was the closest thing he’d be getting to anything fatherly. Instead, George held out a brown paper bag.
“You forgot your bagels ... and I think you’re gonna need your strength, Mr. Jamison. Celebrating takes a lot of energy.” George guffawed at his own joke and shoved the bag at Collin’s chest, but Collin blocked the assault before it crushed the Lorenzo Cana. Her favorite. Those two words followed on the tail of “Lorenzo Cana” as automatically as the succulent memory of her wearing nothing but that charcoal silk and an I’m gonna make you beg for mercy look in her mahogany eyes the day she gave it to him. The thought elicited a delicious but inconvenient tug in his groin. At least he didn’t feel like he was choking anymore.
“Thanks, old man.”
“Old? Who you calling old, you little pipsqueak?” George puffed his chest out like a rooster in a henhouse and strutted around the Mercedes to the driver’s door. “I’ve done more celebrating on a daily basis for the last thirty years than you’ll do in the next sixty. As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna head on home and do some celebrating myself, since you won’t be needing my services for the day.”
Collin chuckled. “You do that, George.”
George slid into the driver’s seat and, for the first time in recorded history, slammed the door of his beloved Mercedes. Holy shit! Seems I ruffled the old man’s feathers.
Collin turned and faced the nineteen story tower as George drove away, took a deep breath to calm his nerves, patted the lump in his pocket one more time, and smiled.
She loves me.
August 30, 2014
All Evernight Teen Titles on Sale This Weekend!
Want to read a fantastic FIVE STAR paranormal romantic suspense this weekend? PHOENIX; THE RISING by YOURS TRULY and all the other Evernight Teen titles are on sale this weekend for 25% off at http://evernightteen.com/! For those who haven't read it yet, here's a snippet to whet your reading appetite...
Sandals were not a good idea. Of course, she hadn’t planned on spending more than a few hours in the dry, desert heat of Death Valley, and that time would be spent in the cool comfort of the white Lincoln that picked her up just outside of Las Vegas. The driver, a balding, grandfatherly curmudgeon, complete with snap-on sunglasses and suspenders, seemed safe enough. Even said she reminded him of his youngest granddaughter.
The old man toodled along at a cool forty miles an hour, recounting stories of his youth as the girl sat silently staring out the window. Her mind was on other things. When he slid his hand across the seat and grabbed her inner thigh, she thought of that granddaughter and got a feeling of righteous satisfaction as she wrenched his thumb back, snapping it at the base. Of course, the car careened out of control as the screaming man clutched his hand to his chest.
“You little bitch!” the old man slammed on the brakes and the car skidded sideways on the shoulder of the road, raising a whirlwind of dust. “Get out!”
The girl already had the door open before the car stopped.
“My pleasure.” She grabbed her bag and turned to him before slamming the door. “You’re lucky it was just your thumb, old man. I could have broken your neck.” The man floored it, screaming profanities as a new cloud of dust and desert rocks pelted her.
She trotted clear of the cloud and looked down at her stinging legs. Small, red welts spotted the surface of her bronzed skin. Blood oozed. She reached down and touched a glistening spot, then brought it to her tongue. Disgusting, but she couldn’t help herself.
The girl looked around. Nothing but rocks and dirt. Off in the distance, tufts of pale green poked out behind some larger boulders. She trotted over to the closest one, and as she got closer, she knew she found what she’d been hoping for. The fat, green spikes of the Aloe plant would provide her with the healing juice she would need to take care of the pesky wounds. They would also provide her with needed moisture for her time in the desert. She plucked a leaf. Aloe oozed from the broken end. She carefully swabbed all the spots she could, then plucked a few spikes to take along. Just in case.
Two hours later, two hours without a single car in sight, she squatted behind a boulder a good hundred yards off the main road. The sun was just setting. That’s when the first scorpion scuttled across her exposed, burnt toes. She screamed and shot upright, expecting pee to run down her leg. But there wasn’t any. She was already feeling the effects of dehydration, and her body sucked up all the moisture it could, reabsorbing the excess water. This was not good. At least she had the cooling darkness of night on her side. It would get chilly, but not cold enough to kill her. She could spend one night out there. Alone. In the dark. Of course she didn’t plan on sleeping. Sleeping meant one thing. Nightmares. There was no way she was going to chance that. She’d had enough nightmares to last a lifetime. Instead, she climbed up on the boulder, retrieved one of the Aloe leaves, split it down the middle, then pulled the length of it across her bottom teeth, scraping out the inner contents. She rolled the slimy mess around in her mouth, savoring the wetness on her parched tongue. Then she waited. Five minutes. The other side would most certainly dry out if she let it set any longer, so she scraped it across her teeth, then swallowed. She knew there was moisture left in the leaves, so she chewed them, extracting every last drop of juice, then spit the tough outer shell on the ground. Rejuvenated by the treat, she hopped off the boulder and trotted back to the road.
Her destination: Bishop, California.
Sandals were not a good idea. Of course, she hadn’t planned on spending more than a few hours in the dry, desert heat of Death Valley, and that time would be spent in the cool comfort of the white Lincoln that picked her up just outside of Las Vegas. The driver, a balding, grandfatherly curmudgeon, complete with snap-on sunglasses and suspenders, seemed safe enough. Even said she reminded him of his youngest granddaughter.
The old man toodled along at a cool forty miles an hour, recounting stories of his youth as the girl sat silently staring out the window. Her mind was on other things. When he slid his hand across the seat and grabbed her inner thigh, she thought of that granddaughter and got a feeling of righteous satisfaction as she wrenched his thumb back, snapping it at the base. Of course, the car careened out of control as the screaming man clutched his hand to his chest.
“You little bitch!” the old man slammed on the brakes and the car skidded sideways on the shoulder of the road, raising a whirlwind of dust. “Get out!”
The girl already had the door open before the car stopped.
“My pleasure.” She grabbed her bag and turned to him before slamming the door. “You’re lucky it was just your thumb, old man. I could have broken your neck.” The man floored it, screaming profanities as a new cloud of dust and desert rocks pelted her.
She trotted clear of the cloud and looked down at her stinging legs. Small, red welts spotted the surface of her bronzed skin. Blood oozed. She reached down and touched a glistening spot, then brought it to her tongue. Disgusting, but she couldn’t help herself.
The girl looked around. Nothing but rocks and dirt. Off in the distance, tufts of pale green poked out behind some larger boulders. She trotted over to the closest one, and as she got closer, she knew she found what she’d been hoping for. The fat, green spikes of the Aloe plant would provide her with the healing juice she would need to take care of the pesky wounds. They would also provide her with needed moisture for her time in the desert. She plucked a leaf. Aloe oozed from the broken end. She carefully swabbed all the spots she could, then plucked a few spikes to take along. Just in case.
Two hours later, two hours without a single car in sight, she squatted behind a boulder a good hundred yards off the main road. The sun was just setting. That’s when the first scorpion scuttled across her exposed, burnt toes. She screamed and shot upright, expecting pee to run down her leg. But there wasn’t any. She was already feeling the effects of dehydration, and her body sucked up all the moisture it could, reabsorbing the excess water. This was not good. At least she had the cooling darkness of night on her side. It would get chilly, but not cold enough to kill her. She could spend one night out there. Alone. In the dark. Of course she didn’t plan on sleeping. Sleeping meant one thing. Nightmares. There was no way she was going to chance that. She’d had enough nightmares to last a lifetime. Instead, she climbed up on the boulder, retrieved one of the Aloe leaves, split it down the middle, then pulled the length of it across her bottom teeth, scraping out the inner contents. She rolled the slimy mess around in her mouth, savoring the wetness on her parched tongue. Then she waited. Five minutes. The other side would most certainly dry out if she let it set any longer, so she scraped it across her teeth, then swallowed. She knew there was moisture left in the leaves, so she chewed them, extracting every last drop of juice, then spit the tough outer shell on the ground. Rejuvenated by the treat, she hopped off the boulder and trotted back to the road.
Her destination: Bishop, California.
July 14, 2014
Give the Gift of Education!
Haven't gotten an e-copy of PHOENIX: THE RISING yet? Well, now you can buy a book and give the gift of education! Just click the link below, and make a difference in a young girl's life...
July 4, 2014
Celebrate the 4th of July!
WHAT??? Did I just say that you can get PHOENIX: THE RISING by YOURS TRULY in an e-format for 25% off this 4th of July weekend? Yes, I did! http://evernightteen.com/ is offering all titles for 25% off from July 4th through 6th. Let's move that lovely Eli Sullivan back up into the Top Seller spot!
