Susanne Matthews's Blog, page 112

Gorgeous Georgia

Day 7 of the   A to Z Blog Challenge and here comes the letter G. I had a hard time deciding what to write about today. I thought maybe the post should be on Getting Things Done, but I procrastinated so long about it, I didn’t know where to start. Instead, I decided I’d post about Georgia, my inspiration for the heroine in Holiday Magic, Book One Second Chance. 

Holiday Magic tells the story of reunited lovers. Gentle Georgia, the eldest twin, had her heart broken just weeks before her dream wedding, based on the Disney theme Beauty and the Beast, was supposed to take place. Devastated, like a wounded animal, she ran away and hid to lick her wounds. The brave, strong, “I can fix anything girl” was gone replaced by a timid, broken woman who lost all confidence in herself.

How did it happen? I almost started the book three years in the past, but Holiday Magic, by virtue of its name was designed to be a Christmas book, and there was a definite word count maximum, so much of the reason why things fell apart got left behind. I have two granddaughters, Eleni and Georgia and their names and temperaments were the inspiration for the characters. Only six and seven years old, they aren’t adults, but I can see the seeds of of the women they’ll become in them. While my granddaughters aren’t twins, I thought I’d like to add that aspect to the story to make the sisterly bond stronger.

A couple of days ago, my E post was about Eleni. She does march to her own drummer. Georgia, while actually the younger  one of the two is the more sociable and responsible one. That being said, she’s also incredibly stubborn, and when she believes she’s been wronged, look out! Baby does not back down. When she cries, she’s in it heart and soul. Her wails would make a banshee run away. Where Eleni is fair like her mother, Georgia is darker like her father. The girls are like night and day. Georgia tends to weigh her options before doing something, but once she does it, she won’t back down. She will protect her sister and brothers to the best of her ability, and if she feels she’s wronged. look out.  If she’s made a mistake, she won’t admit it, but will simply dig the hole she’d put herself in deeper.  A couple of years ago, it was her turn to be the class leader and that involved turning off the classroom lights. A little boy turned the lights off when it was her turn. Furious, Georgia bit him–yeah she has a good set of choppers. She quickly left the room and went to the office to get ice for the boy’s bite. To the last, she didn’t understand why she was in trouble–he took her turn. Yes, she bit him, but she got him ice, and he didn’t get in trouble. It wasn’t fair. It was those character traits I used to create my heroine. 

Three years earlier in the story, Georgia was the friendly, fun-loving twin who fell in love with Mark in the Glee Club’s presentation of Beauty and the Beast. he was the Beast, she was Belle. Happy beyond anything, Georgia refused to listen to Eleni’s words of caution and trusting everyone was honest and above board, she went to bring a sick friend comfort and found Mark, her fiance, the man she loved body and soul, naked in bed with a woman she thought was her friend. Devastated, she refused to listen to explanations and ran away from everything–Mark, their wedding, her home, Philidelphia–everything that mattered to her including her twin. Three years later, feeling far from whole, but healed enough to return, she decides to go back home and try to pick up the pieces of the life she left behind–sans Mark. When Eleni leaps before she looks and needs immediate help, Georgia steps up to the plate to assist her beloved sister, never realizing that fate is going to place her and Mark together once more. 

Excerpt from Holiday Magic

Georgia was so angry with Eleni that she could spit nails as they said. How could she have been so stupid as to sign that contract without reading the fine print?  She had warned her to do so, but it was so like her twin to ignore advice that would be common sense to anyone else.

To discover that it was year-end time, and Mark would be underfoot every day was a low blow, but finding out that she had to be his escort at the Christmas Eve Snow Ball? Well, she was still reeling from that!  

Eleni was trying her best to placate her, but she was way beyond calming now. She had not been this furious in years.

“Georgia, I told you that the Ball was one of my all-inclusive gigs, so don’t get bent out of shape about it; Mark would have been there anyway. The organizing committee insisted on it; I told you before, he’s my partner, and the people who are paying the shot want him there. They’re quite annoyed with me that I can’t attend, but they’ve agreed to let you stand in my stead; there is no way that Mark can give them the slip too. Look, you’ll probably be so busy hobnobbing with the elite; you’ll hardly spend any time with him. I’m sure some of your old friends will be there. It’ll be a great opportunity to reconnect now that you’ve decided to move back and join the living, and you can push your jewelry too. Who knows? If the Governor’s wife likes it, she might want some, and you could have a whole new client base in Washington.”

Georgia shook her head. “Forget it! As Grandma used to say, ‘Whitewashing the pump won’t make the water clean.’ If you’d told me about all this, I would never have agreed to help you out; I’m sure that’s why you’re springing this crap on me now. You knew I wouldn’t come if you’d been honest about it. I find it hard to believe that you just conveniently forgot to mention this. Seriously, you expect me to be his date for the night? That night of all nights? I’m sorry, Eleni, but you are out of your cotton-picking mind!” Her voice had risen attracting the attention of some of the diners, so she lowered it immediately.

Eleni’s lower lip started to tremble, and Georgia knew that the waterworks were next. It wasn’t fair; her sister could read her like a book – a first grade primer, at that!

“Eleni Jean Baxter, don’t you dare cry!” she hissed. Maybe it’s good that I’m angry, she thought, at least when I’m angry I’m not feeling sorry for myself!

 “Nobody gives you more trouble than you do yourself, honey, but you just don’t think things through. You’ve created this mess, and you really didn’t think about the way it would affect others; you have to stop jumping in with both feet before you test the water. One of these days, you’re going to get hurt. This will be hard for Mark – well maybe not hard, but uncomfortable at best.”

Eleni giggled; Georgia realized what she had said, and the double meaning that could be attached to it.

“Seriously? You’ve got your mind in the gutter now? Oh! You know what I mean!”

Disgusted with herself, Georgia couldn’t stop the blush that suffused her cheeks as her imagination brought that image of him vividly to mind. Heat spread through her body. The one thing they had always had was chemistry, lots and lots of reactive chemistry.

“Mark and I haven’t spoken since that morning; seeing him again will be very difficult for me, and now you tell me that I’ll have to see him almost every day? Leni, that’s not playing fair.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and reached for her wine glass.  

“It still hurts to remember what we had; I don’t know about him, but I wish it had never happened – that we had never met.” She took a sip of her wine, and Eleni had the common sense to stay quiet.

 

 

Look Who Dropped By Today: Ana Blaze

My apologies to Ana. I’m a little late posting today, but I’ve had a gazillion things to do. Today, Ana is offering you a peek at her latest book, A Late Thaw. It’s a  Comedy, Contemporary, Romance (Adult). A Late Thaw was released originally in October of 2013, was withdrawn due to problems with the original publisher, and is being released again this month for your reading pleasure. Consider ordering the book and mark it to read on Goodreads. 

GOODREADS BOOK LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17830852-a-late-thaw

SYNOPSIS: Barrett, Vermont, home to nearly as many goats as people. It’s the perfect picturesque spot to stop for cocoa after a ski trip or to buy your Christmas tree from a hunky farmer wearing snug jeans and a pair of well-worn boots. Kiley St. Claire isn’t there for either. She’s come home for one reason and one reason only: make enough money waiting tables at the local tourist trap to survive her final semester of graduate school. Of course she is going to have to see that Christmas tree farmer eventually. That’s fine; Kiley isn’t the same nerdy little girl he palled around with. Nope, she’s done crushing on Cole Thomas. Totally done.

Cole thought he was ready, but seeing Kiley again is a punch to the gut. She rejected him and ran away without explanation. He still couldn’t imagine a future with another woman.  Now at least he’ll have a chance to say what he’s needed to say for years and then, just maybe, he’ll be ready to move on. He only wishes she didn’t look so damn good in her uniform.

Here’s your chance to win an Ebook copy of Love and Other Games

Love and Other Games is a collection of four sexy new adult stories centered around athletes competing in the Winter Games by Ana Blaze, Melinda Dozier, Aria Kane, and Kara Leigh Miller.

Giveaway link

 

This link in the A Late Thaw Cover Reveal was sponsored by: 

Focus on Foes

Welcome to Day 6 of the  A to Z Blog Challenge, brought to you today by the letter F. Today is a beautiful, sunny day. From my window, I can see the shingles on my neighbor’s rooftop for the first time since early November. The expected high is 12 C, or 53 F for my American friends. It’s the most spring-like weather we’ve had to date.

So, what can I talk about that starts with the letter F and is bright and new under the sun? I think I’ll focus on foes. Like many of those participating in this blog hop, I write romance, but I’m all over the place when it comes to sub-genres. To date I have a historical romance, two Christmas holiday romances, two contemporary romances, a co-written sports novella, and five romance/suspense novels sold and either released or to be released shortly. On the back burner, I have a historical romance and another suspense/romance being looked at by publishers, and I’m currently working on a romance/suspense. So, of the fourteen books I’ve completed, half of them are suspense/romance and add to that both of the historicals which are also suspense based. I guess it’s safe to say suspense seems to be my preferred sub-genre. 

The hardest thing about writing suspense romance is selecting the foe. In a romance, you have the hero and heroine, attracted to one another, but unable to connect because of issues or circumstances surrounding them. In historical romance, class is often one of the problems keeping our lovers apart. In contemporary romance, it’s frequently pride and lack of communication. Sometimes it can be trust issues or miscommunication too. In suspense/romance, you have to blend the hero/heroine problem with danger. Someone is after one of the characters–usually the heroine, although in Cupid’s Arrow, a yet to be released book, the hero is the target of a person seeking revenge and the heroine tasked with protecting him and his teenaged daughter. 

I’ve been told I do an exceptional job of creating foes. The Fire Angel in the book of that name is a cruel vindictive creature bent on exacting revenge. In Lie Down With Dogs, also yet to be released, the Harvester is a serial killing monster who drugs young single women, impregnates them, and then kidnaps them once the pregnancy is established.  When the child is born, he keeps it and murders the mothers, leaving their bodies in public places where they can be easily found.What is he doing with the babies? Watch for the book to find out.  In Until It’s Over, the Butcher is a contract killer, a sociopath without a conscience who kills anyone for a price, but he’s not the worst enemy in that book–it’s the person who hired him. In Echoes of the Past, the foe is a crafty meth dealer who’ll do anything to hide his profitable venture. In Hidden Assets, the sociopath on the loose is involved with the Colombian drug cartels who will kill as many as it takes to keep his assets hidden. Watch for these books out later this year. 

In Plain Sight, a novel many of my reviewers consider my best, there are two foes–one dead who continues to influence my heroine’s behavior and thoughts. He’s the reason she can’t trust her attraction to the hero. The other is a force that threatens not only Misty and her daughter, but everyone around them. Misty and Debbie, in the Witness Protection program, are hiding from the Irish mob. This is their third placement, and the last thing Misty needs is to draw attention to herself. When her home catches fire–with no proof it wasn’t simply an accident–Misty needs a home in a safe place. Enter Nick, a psychosomatic blind man who will do anything to protect the woman whose voice touches his soul. The foe in this book has the money, power, and resources of the Irish mob to fuel a blood feud time and nothing but the complete obliteration of Misty and her child will satisfy. Can a blind man, even one with money and incredible resources, protect Misty and Debbie from someone with that much hatred in their soul? You’ll have to read the book to see. In Plain Sight was a challenge to write because everything that affected the hero had to be described using senses other than sight–a challenge in its own right, worthy of a blog all its own. 

Excerpt from In Plain Sight

The stranger was tall, well over six feet, with short, dark hair that curled at the neckline, attesting to the fact that it needed a trim. There was a recently healed, jagged scar along the right side of his forehead that ran from the top of his hairline to his eyebrow, but instead of marring his beauty, the mark made him seem more intriguing and reminded her of a similar scar on a young wizard from a series of books she’d loved in her teens. He was clean-shaven, with a Roman nose, and had a generous mouth with full lips currently turned down in a frown.

He wore black, brushed-denim jeans, which molded to his muscular legs like a second skin, a charcoal gray shirt, and a black, kid-leather jacket. His feet were shod in black leather loafers. Everything about him, from the way he held his head to his shoes, screamed, “Look at me! I’m somebody!” Misty shivered. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem at all pleased to be here.

Based on his austere clothing and the scowl on his face, Misty decided he must be a serious-minded individual, and from his glare, she’d bet he was no more impressed with her costume than she was. Then again, it might have been her tactless comment that had soured his disposition. For all she knew, if he was the money behind this particular staging of Jesus Christ Superstar, she might have struck a nerve. He might even have chosen the color and the fabric with economy in mind. She knew Martha had bought up all the remnants she could find in town.

It was her turn to frown. Fabulous guys like this were either gay or married. Hell, Martha, the wardrobe director, might even be his wife. Hadn’t Amber said Martha’s husband was a trust-fund hottie? Well, this man was most definitely hot, and the clothes he wore so well shrieked money. The unexpected shot to her libido momentarily had her forgetting who and what she was. Reality quickly reasserted itself.

Misty had been living in Pine Falls for eight months now, and she really didn’t want to move again. She and her daughter, Debbie, were happy here. This man was a stranger, and strangers spelled danger. For more than four years, she’d run from relationships and people, including confident, powerful men like this one, avoiding friendships and commitment. She’d kept to herself, believing that if she did, she’d be safe. It hadn’t worked, and good people had died. What made her think stepping outside the box to become a member of this community and make friends here would be a wise thing to do? At the moment, it looked as if she might have made a colossal error.

Her mind focused on the present and the gorgeous stranger who reminded her of a sleek black cat, whose stormy, gray-blue eyes seemed to look right through her. She shuddered. This man was dangerous. He walked with the grace and ease of a panther on the prowl, wary of everything and everyone in the room. He might look like he could purr under the right circumstances, but at the moment, it was more likely he’d rip your throat out if he got the chance.

Micah walked over to the center of the room with the stranger following close behind him. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t seem to get her eyes to cooperate with her brain. She was like a moth drawn to the flame, unable to escape its destiny.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Micah said as he and the newcomer approached the center of the room, capturing the attention of the female cast and the men who’d filed into the dressing room. “I have some good news and some bad news for you tonight.” The cast gave a group groan. It seemed as if this musical was cursed; they’d been practicing since September, and every time they thought they had some glitch worked out, something else went wrong. In fact, it had been one of those minor disasters that had resulted in Misty’s joining the company.

In September, Amos, the agent who’d brought them to Pine Falls, had helped her purchase a small, two-story house just down the street from his. With his help, she’d established a solid cover story, and she and her daughter had fallen in love with their new home, the first real one they’d had since she’d made the fateful decision to testify against the Irish mob. Amos had put in a good word and helped her get a job as secretary at the local elementary school.

She’d been talked into joining the theater group after Amber had heard her sing karaoke the night of the school’s Christmas party. Her rendition of “I Love Rock and Roll” had brought the room to its feet. Since the theater group’s best soprano had been transferred to Oregon, they hadn’t been able to find a replacement. Misty’s voice was just what they needed to fill the void.

Although Misty had wanted the role, she’d declined because she hadn’t felt right asking Beryl, Amos’s wife, to babysit. When she’d mentioned it to Charlotte, her widowed neighbor who had a four-year-old of her own, she’d offered to babysit for Misty.

After more than four years of running, hiding, working, and looking after Debbie, Misty had needed some “me” time and had finally agreed. She enjoyed being part of the theater group and had even been persuaded to go on a couple of dates, but no one had pushed her buttons.

She shook her head and tried to focus on what Micah was saying because the man beside him worried her. Who was he? What did he want? Why was he here? The fear she’d cultivated all these years ate at her.

Check out my website for buy links to In Plain Sight.

Don’t forget to check out the other great blogs in the  A to Z Blog Challenge

Exceptional Eleni

Day Five of the  A to Z Blog Challenge. Check out the other entries by clicking on the link.  

Today’s blog is brought to you by the letter E. Meet my granddaughter, Eleni, pronounced e (like in red)-len-knee. It’s the Greek form of Helen as in Helen of Troy. This picture was taken at age five to commemorate her kindergarten graduation, before all her teeth started to fall out. It’s one of my favorites. Why? Because I see it as a glimpse into the future when she’ll repeat the process at her post secondary graduation. 

Eleni has an incredible imagination. She was the inspiration for the two child characters who appeared in Fire Angel and In Plain Sight. When she was four and five, Eleni invented a vocabulary all her own and snippets of that show up in In Plain Sight. Her stuffed unicorn was a hornekin, her blue hippo, a hippohorse, and of course, there were chibins at Grandma’s house. What are chibins? They are pigeons. Why are they called chibins, because they walk like chickens. All of her words had a logic of there own. And let’s not forget the green blanket from which she is still inseparable most nights. 

Eleni dances to her own song. Ask her to pack a bag for an overnight visit–she is seven now–and you’ll probably end up with a bag of stuffed ponies and no underwear. She loves to draw and color. Make a mess? Hell, yes, but she’ll be so proud of her creations, it’ll take the sting out of your annoyance in seconds.  Recently they’ve been talking about fundraising for cancer research at school and Eleni has decided to sell her artwork at her mom’s next garage sale and give the money to cancer research. How sweet is that? Mom plans to buy dollar store frames and frame the masterpieces and sell them for–you guessed it–a dollar. Eleni will bring her earnings to the school and be proud of herself and her efforts. Cost to mom: $10.00, cost to kids learning about good citizenship and sharing: priceless.

Eleni is also the name and character behind Eleni, the heroine in The Perfect Choice. She is beautiful, artistic and spontaneous. She is caring and sensitive. Eleni is exceptional in all the best ways. 

Excerpt from The Perfect Choice

Eleni stepped out into the glorious sunshine and smiled. One thing about working for yourself was that you could take a few hours off when you really wanted them, not when someone else decided it was your down-time. Yesterday, she’d arranged for Allie to come in for the whole morning, so she’d been able to see the Dean, visit with old teachers, run the sketches for the wedding by Meredith, and of course, see Clyde, her favorite dinosaur.

She looked at her watch. She had time to walk over to the fountain. On a day like this, probably one of the last ones before the weather changed, Leo would still be playing in the park, entertaining the tourists. He’d been playing the blues each morning in Logan Circle, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, for as long as she could remember. Her grandmother used to love listening to him play. With the amount of money she’d put in his guitar case over the years, he should be able to retire. Last fall, she’d asked him why he didn’t, and he’d smiled at her shaking his head. ‘Lordy child, why would I do that? The folks come to listen to the blues. I’ll retire when the Good Lord calls me home, not a moment sooner.’

She took her sunglasses out and put them on. From here, she could see that there were a number of kids enjoying a romp in the fountain—she and Georgia had done it often enough as kids and a couple of times as teenagers. If she weren’t wearing her good clothes, she’d probably go wading right this minute. She looked toward her favorite bench and saw that it was occupied. From here, the guy looked like a student. She’d relished those carefree days, but now, she was a woman of business, and rarely got time to relax, let alone loll on a bench on a sunny summer day.

It won’t hurt just to go and listen to Leo for a few minutes, she thought. It might be the last chance I’ll have this summer.

She walked across the sidewalk to where the elderly man played for the enjoyment of others. As soon as he saw her, he smiled, finished the song he’d been singing in his silky, gravelly voice, and began to play her favorite, Georgia on my Mind.

She stood there wrapped in the music and memories until the song ended. After tossing money in the guitar case, she strode toward the street where she’d planned to get a cab. She could probably walk to Holiday Magic, but as nice as her new sandals were, she’d have a blister if she strolled that far in this heat.

As she passed by her bench, she noticed that the man sitting there was older than she’d expected, and he looked sad and lonely.

Probably down on his luck, she thought.

As she neared him, she recognized the t-shirt he wore; she’d seen him with Clyde. As she approached, she sensed that he was staring at her; maybe he’d noticed her at the museum.

***

He’d  closed his eyes to focus on the music and re-opened them. He was about to stand and leave, when he saw her coming along the sidewalk toward him. She carried an artist’s portfolio and seemed to have all the time in the world. He was stunned; she was without a doubt the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. He blinked his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining her. There was something regal about her. He could almost hear his mom speak.

“That’s class, Joe. Someday, when you’re a man, you’ll want to find yourself a woman with class, not a nobody like me.”

She was tall, at least five ten, and well over six feet with the strappy, red, high-heeled sandals she wore. Her short-sleeved, apple-red coat-dress was stylishly short, and showed off an incredible pair of legs. The neckline was a V, not a plunging one, but one that offered a glimpse of a white lace camisole beneath it. Her long strawberry-blond hair was pulled back from her face and earrings shaped like red apples hung from her ears. She wore large black-framed sunglasses and carried a red handbag. She was the most incredible woman he’d ever seen, and he was lost.

As she approached the musician, she waved at him, gave him a beaming smile that all but blinded Joe, and the guitarist saluted her and changed songs. He started to play Georgia on my Mind. She stood still listening to him, a melancholy look on her face that gradually became an open, friendly, and just a little dreamy, smile to show that the music brought back pleasant memories. Joe couldn’t pull his eyes away and stared hungrily at her.

When the song ended, she tossed some money in the man’s guitar case, saluted him, and continued walking toward him, her Mona Lisa smile still in place. He wanted to say something to her, anything to get her to stop a moment, and he was trying to think of something witty when his stomach growled loudly, announcing to anyone who had ears that he hadn’t yet had lunch.

She stopped in front of him, and started to laugh, her laughter as clear and crisp as a crystal bell. She gave him a curious smile and a quick once over, but there was nothing judgmental in her face when she looked into his mirrored glasses. Her sunglasses were lightly tinted, and he could see her eyes clearly through them. For the first time in his life, he wished he were himself, better dressed, standing out instead of blending in with the crowd.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I shouldn’t have laughed, but the only other person I know whose stomach growls like that is my sister, and I was thinking about her. I guess you need lunch. I’m pretty sure they’re still serving at the Mission.” Her voice sounded both amused and friendly. “I’m going in that direction; if you want to come along, I can show you the way. I’ve had a few meals there myself. They don’t charge much, but if you can’t pay, you can do dishes or something.”

“I can pay.”

He was completely disarmed by her genuine friendliness, feeling more comfortable with a woman than he ever had. She was so open and unaffected that he relaxed and enjoyed this unexpected blessing.

 “I didn’t want to give up the sunshine just yet. It’s my last day here; I wanted to make the most of it. Tell me, pretty lady, do you always talk to strangers?”

“Only those whose stomachs talk to me first.” She giggled softly. “It’s a unique pick-up line, that’s for sure. Besides, you’re not a stranger.”

“Have we met?” asked Joe, suddenly wary.

She shook her head.

“Nope. We haven’t been introduced, if that’s what you mean, but you were with a friend of mine earlier.”

“You must have mistaken me for someone else,” he said, disappointed that he wasn’t the guy she thought he was.

“Oh, it was you. I recognized your t-shirt. I love the Stones. You were having quite the discussion with old Clyde.”

He frowned in confusion, and she laughed.

“We share a common interest. I saw you in the fossil room at the Academy when I went there this morning. You seemed quite fascinated with him.”

“Clyde?” He stood.

“I feel anyone who’s hung around a place as long as that fossil has should have a name. Clyde just seemed to suit him.”

He laughed—a real belly laugh, the kind he hadn’t given in ages, and slung the backpack over his shoulder. “Can I carry your portfolio, pretty lady?”

“Sure. It’s not heavy, but it’s awkward. I’m Leni. Welcome to Philadelphia. How do you like my city?” She stuck out her hand.

Check out my website for buy links.

Don’t forget to visit the rest of the  A to Z Blog Challenge

Dare to be Different

Welcome to Friday, brought to you by the letter D. This is stop # 4 on the  A to Z Blog Challenge. Lots of fun to be had here. Today I thought I’d blog about daring to be different.

The one thing every kid wants is to fit in, to be part of the in-crowd, to be accepted. Sometimes people go to great length for that to happen. They’ll abandon their beliefs just to be part of a group they admire, and often for all the wrong reasons. When something happens, and they don’t make it into the in-crowd, they have two choices—blame it on the crowd and do nothing, or accept the situation and do something about it.

When I was teaching full-time, I saw how desperately some kids wanted to be accepted by others, and I watched good kids give up so much to be like everyone else. Why? Because being different, being your own person takes guts. Daring to be different means opening yourself up to pain and ridicule. It means standing on the sidelines instead of doing what everyone else is doing. It means standing up for who and what you are, daring to put it all out there because it’s the right thing to do.

Being an author can be like that. You can choose to do what everyone else does, or you can choose to be different, unique in some way. If your book sells, you feel great, accepted, if it doesn’t, you feel crushed. Rejection letters, especially those that go, “publishing is a highly subjective business and while your manuscript isn’t right for us, it may be right for someone else” are painful to receive and not in the least helpful. We make a choice, we go back in make changes hoping that will help, and subbed again, and hoping this time the publisher will like it. We want to be part of the crowd, we want to be accepted, and if we have to change this, that, and the other thing for it to happen, so be it.

Some of you may have heard about the recent debacle at Entranced Publishing. Yes, the publishing house closed under strange, even suspicious circumstances. Many incredible authors, editors, cover artists, publicists were left high and dry by people they trusted. I was luckier than many because my book was still at the editing stage. Others had to watch newly released books get taken down, even when they were doing well. Everyone with a book out there was shafted—not paid royalties owed, not paid for editing done, not paid for beautiful covers that would no longer see the light of day.

Those awesome authors had no recourse. Were they bitter, angry, upset? Of course they were, but instead of wallowing in their misery, they’ve dared to be different. They’ve taken the bull by the horns and moved on. Once they received their rights, they’ve resubmitted books to other publishers and a number of them have chosen to self-publish their books. So, my fellow former Entrancies, I congratulate you. Dare to be different. Get on with your careers and don’t let what one person did ruin your lives. Books are about authors, not publishers and I know, by daring to be different and moving on, each and every one of you will be a great success.

Cover Reveal: One Lucky Night

I’m so happy today to share the cover and official blurb of One Lucky Night with you!

 

 

 

One night can change everything…

 

The crew at Boston’s Brazen Head Pub hasn’t been very lucky in love. Can a mysterious visitor inspire them to look past old hurts and misconceptions and give romance a chance? One Lucky Night is a collection of five sexy interwoven novelettes by Aria Kane, Grace Teague, Ana Blaze, Constance Phillips, and Melinda Dozier.

 

Lucky Break by Aria Kane

Four years ago, chef Derek Chase walked out of Andrea Rivera’s life after a tragedy neither of them were prepared to deal with. When she’s called to the Brazen Head to repair a dishwasher, old sparks ignite buried feelings.

 

Lucky Star by Grace Teague

When her life is threatened by a mugger, Charlotte Price realizes she’s in love with her best friend, Tommy Leung. The Brazen Head seems like the perfect neutral place to confess her feelings, but nothing goes according to plan.

 

A New Tune by Ana Blaze

When it comes to dating, Holly Hall has one unbreakable rule: no musicians. Not even gorgeous ones. Especially not gorgeous ones. Dating them only leads to heartbreak. So why did she let singer-songwriter Cian O’Neill kiss her? And why is she thinking about doing it again?

 

Lexi’s Chance by Constance Phillips

As a bartender, Sean Whalen meets all kinds of women every night, but none turn his head the way that Lexi has. She’s been playing cat and mouse with him for weeks. Tonight, Sean’s determined to get Lexi to quit teasing and take a real chance on him.

 

Drink or Dare by Melinda Dozier

A bachelorette party Drink or Dare game pairs paramedic students, Rachel Robertson and Killian Whelan, in a flirting match. Soon, the dares threaten to turn their academic rivalry into something much more.

 

 

One Lucky Night will be available in print and at all major ebook retailers on May 7th. For now, you can add it to Goodreads!

 

 

About the Authors

 

Aria Kane is a recovering mechanical engineer and romance writer. As a military brat, she grew up all over the country, but now lives in sunny Florida with a 60 lb mutt who thinks he’s a chihuahua.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads

 

Grace Teague lives in Pittsburgh with her spouse, children and a cat named Mr. Sushi.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

 

Ana Blaze lives near Washington DC with her charming husband and three cats who firmly believe they are royalty. Ana is a member of Romance Writers of America.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads | Tumblr

 

Constance Phillips lives in Ohio with her husband, two ready-to-leave-the-nest children, and four canine kids. Her perfect fantasy vacation would involve hunting Dracula across Europe with her daughter, who also digs that kind of stuff.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads | Tumblr

 

Melinda Dozier teaches English to middle schoolers by day and writes at night. She lives in Guatemala, Central America with her college sweetheart and three sons.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads

 

 

Giveaway

 

The authors are giving away four print copies of One Lucky Night before you can buy it! 

 

Enter here.

Awesome Authors

This is my third entry in the A to Z Blog Challenge. Since I started on Day C, I posted there first. 

I think the most wonderful thing that has come out of my writing career has been meeting other people, in particular the awesome authors who have become my facebook friends. In September of 2012, I decided to become serious about my writing and joined the Harlequin SYTYCW challenge. I knew nothing about becoming an author, other than the fact I wanted to tell a story. Gradually, I found the author boards at Harlequin and joined, slowly commenting on different things. 

Harlequin is the Holy Grail of aspiring romance writers, and while thousands of us send manuscripts there, few are chosen. I met some excellent writers on the boards. In one particular thread, there was a monthly writing challenge. People would write a 1,000 word story based on a theme, incorporating certain words provided by that month’s judge. I participated a few times, but once I sold Fire Angel, I bowed out. For me, as an unpublished author, those boards taught me many things, and when I was finally published–not with Harlequin–I stayed in touch with some of them. They have become friends in the truest sense of the word. Many have gone on to sign contracts with Harlequin, or its many imprints, and others have signed elsewhere as I did.

Among the many things offered by the Harlequin boards was the chance to pitch a story to Harlequin’s various editors. I haven’t sold a book to them although I did have a pich accepted, only to have the book rejected without a reason in the end. Through my first pitch experience, the one for Fire Angel in fact, I met some incredibly talented people. We formed a support group to get us through the pitching event. Sadly, due to what I like to call artistic temperament, the group eventually lost its focus. I did get the chance to meet some wonderful people, and unfortunately some I wish I hadn’t met, but such is life.

From that group, a smaller more cohesive group formed. These women and I have become family. We’ve shared tears over rejections and handshakes and celebrations over sales. Many of us have faced the heartbreak that comes with the dissolution of a publisher as seen in the recent Entranced debacle, but we soldier on, supporting one another as best we can because we are awesome authors one and all. So, I lift my glass to Christy, Danielle, Meredith, Anne, Nancy, Monica, Misty, Siren, Melinda,my friends, my mentors–awesome authors one and all.  I make new author friends everyday, and although I may not be getting rich form my book sales, I have a wealth of awesome authors as friends.  What more can a person want?

To learn more about me and my writing check out my website.

Now, time to visit the other blogs in the  A to Z Blog Challenge

Book Birthdays

Happy birthday, Fire Angel!

This is my second entry in the  A to Z Blog Challenge.

On April 29, my first novel, Fire Angel will celebrate its first book birthday.  What is a book birthday? It’s the day the author, in the case of self-pubbed books, or the publisher releases the book to the vendors and the public. Fire Angel was the book that kickstarted my writing career such as it is. I’d like to think I’m a exceptional writer about to be launched to the top of the New York best seller list, but the truth is I’m one of several thousand hopefuls out there looking for a break. Like the Hollywood starlet working in the coffee shop, I’m waiting to be discovered. Sadly, I don’t think anyone is looking to discover me. 

As parents, our children’s birthdays march across the years from infancy to adulthood, but a book is born full-grown. If it sells well, each year it will mark another birthday, if it doesn’t, the publisher will drop it and it will be consigned to book oblivion. Sad, but true. Publishers can’t afford to keep books that don’t sell. Fire Angel did not do as well as I thought it would, but like many other authors, I saw the book publishing business through rose colored glasses that in now way prepared me for the heartbreaking reality of the industry. Everyone who’s read the book tells me how much they enjoyed it– a few didn’t, but that’s okay too. You can’t please all the people all the time.  I love Alexis and Jake as much as I do any of my characters. Their personalities are based on people I love dearly. She’s feisty and independent. He’s protective and determined. Opposites attract and they’re made for one another. 

Excerpt from Fire Angel

“Let me do my job and worry about this jerk. He isn’t the first to try to stop me, and I doubt he’ll be the last. Now that I know he’s out there, I’ll watch for him; I’ll find him, and I’ll stop him. I don’t like threats.”

When he didn’t argue further, she relaxed and sat down once again. She quickly described her encounter with Bullwinkle, as she referred to the moose. Although there had been nothing funny about the incident, her dry sense of humor manifested itself in the way she related the story. Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself, he thought.

“So when the rental agency gets the car back, they can say the finger grooves in the steering wheel are for improved navigation control.” She chuckled. “I don’t think they’ll be open to returning my security deposit though.” She reached for her beer and took a drink.

“Now, let’s forget my stalker for a minute and talk about the fires. You people have not been very forthcoming with information. Since there doesn’t seem to be anything specific in the files that I’ve been given, I’m a little confused about this so-called link. From what I’ve read, the first fire could have been set by a careless squatter, the second sounds like a kitchen fire, and the third is most likely the result of that dropped cigarette; there doesn’t appear to be any connection at all. Accidents, plain and simple; what do you know that I don’t?”

She had changed, and he found the change very appealing. She had been more beautiful in her indignation than anyone could have imagined, her eyes flashing fire and growing more compelling for it. Her sense of humor relating the story of her encounter with the moose showed her courage and determination; it was nice to find a woman with a backbone, but whether she liked it or not, he would watch that backbone for her. The memory of a woman who allowed others to brainwash her into doing what they wanted flashed through his mind, but Alexis’ presence and her question didn’t allow it to take root.

“Whoever the arsonist is, he’s very clever, and he’s been extremely careful,” said Jake. “It was a fluke that we caught on to him in the first place. We’ve made a potential connection, but not in the fires, with the victims. That’s why it’s taken so long to call you in on this.”

“What do you mean by that? I’m a fire investigator, not a forensic anthropologist.” She scowled.

“At first, everyone believed, like you, that the first fire had been an accident, a careless camper squatting in a hunting camp. That being said, we didn’t rush the autopsy and identification. We got the report just after the second fire. Our first victim was a small time drug dealer from Montreal known as Bandit, a.k.a. John Slaney. They identified him from dental records. His mother had filed a missing persons report on him early in September, but no one had taken her seriously. It seems young Mr. Slaney made a habit of relocating when the rent was due or the police were getting close.”

 Fire Angel is available in paperback  from Amazon and  as an ebook wherever ebooks are sold

Now, don’t forget to check out the other  A to Z Blog Challenge entries.

Cleo: Who Is She Really?

Hello, I’m jumping on the  A to Z Blog Challenge bandwagon three days late so here is my third entry. I’ll post A, and B, after this to get caught up. I just heard about the challenge and I’m willing to try anything at least once. On April 11th, Just For The Weekend will be released. I’m really excited about it. This story is one that was near and dear to my heart because I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas and see the Grand Canyon. Cleo, my heroine, has an awful lot of me in her–more than any character I’ve created. She’s usually uber responsible and thinks everything to death before she acts, but  this time she’s steps out the box to experience life. I haven’t done it often myself, but the few times I did, the experience was memorable. 

As a teacher, Cleo is part of a career that exacts more than a pound of flesh from the teachers involved. We are all expected to be above reproach and can get our fingers slapped for doing things that are perfectly acceptable for others.  When I researched the morals clauses in many U.S. teacher contracts I found the moral turpitude clause. Even the slightest hint of impropriety can earn you a reprimand–and it only has to be the appearance of it in someone’s eyes.

Following her attraction for Sam is really consuming forbidden fruit, but sometimes you just need to do what’s best for you and everyone else be damned.

In Vegas, Cleo attends a sci-fi convention dressed as an Orion slave girl, a costume that not only makes her feel uncomfortable, but seems to bring out the pig in men. Here’s an excerpt to wet your whistles.

Excerpt from Just for the Weekend:

Mitch owed her big-time for this, and she’d collect. She started out trying to be polite; after all, some of these guys were fans, but by now she was fed up with their lewd innuendos. She’d resorted to sarcasm, but they were either too drunk or too thick-skinned to appreciate it. Why did some men think they could objectify women the way they did based on the clothes they wore? This was a costume. It wasn’t who she was.  

“Back again?” She forced a fake smile on her face for the blue-skinned Andorian who’d been plaguing her the last hour. His battery-operated antennae wiggled more slowly now than they had earlier. “I can’t imagine I have anything left to give you.” His hand shot out, but she quickly stepped back out of reach.

“I can think of a couple of things I wouldn’t mind holding.” He smiled lecherously at her showing a mouthful of poorly maintained teeth that weren’t part of the costume. “What can I say? You’ve entranced me. How about you and I get together later tonight? I’ve got a room upstairs and a bed just waiting to be broken in.”

You can break it in alone, you slime ball.

“Sorry, that’s a tempting offer, I’m sure, but I’m busy later.”

“Thought so; I saw you with the Cardassian earlier. What about tomorrow night? The convention lasts three days.”

“Sorry, busy all weekend.”

“Sure you are.” He winked. “If you change your mind, I’m in room nineteen eleven. We’ll have a party—it’s come as you are.” He leaned over. “I’d like to lick every inch of that green paint off you. You can return the favor.” He blew in her ear and she shuddered, the stench of his beer and stale cigarette breath making her want to barf. What a loser.

“If the soap doesn’t work, I’ll keep it in mind.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he took the bookmark she’d been holding, but almost gagged when he turned her hand over and licked her palm.

Gross!  She rubbed her hand on the table cloth.

She replaced the pile of books next to Mitch, added more swag to the table and jumped when a man dressed as a vampiric, hive-dwelling Wraith from Atlantis leaned across the table. He’d been standing over to the left of the booth watching her, and she’d tried to ignore him as best she could.

 “Hey gorgeous, I’ve been watching you turn down the guys all night. If you like to party with the ladies… I can arrange a ménage à trois. I’m all for new experiences. What’s your name?”

“Leaveme.”

“Leaveme? Is that an Orion name?”

“No, it’s one hundred percent Terran as in leave me alone.”

He laughed loudly, drawing the attention of several people nearby. “I like my women feisty. I’d love to suck the life force out of you.” He raised his mini-suction-cup-covered hand and ran it along her bare arm.

She shuddered at the uncomfortable feeling of hard plastic against her smooth skin and pulled away.  He stuck out his tongue—it had to be as long as Mick Jagger’s. She rolled her eyes. Really?

“Yeah, well, it isn’t going to happen. I like my life force right where it is, thanks. You’ll have to find someone else to play with.” She shoved a bookmark in his hand.

“Relax. I’m just looking for a good-time same as you. That’s why we come to these things, right. There’s nothing I’d like better than to look down at you with your mouth on my…”

“Stop right there while I bleach my eyeballs to get rid of that image. It isn’t going to happen, not now, not ever.”

She turned her back on him and focused her attention on the remaining books. She was spitting mad. How dare he make those assumptions and suggestions? She straightened the bra that had a tendency to slip and was glad to see her nemesis had gone. At least he’d taken the hint. That guy had left a bad taste in her mouth.

You can pre-order Just for the Weekend here: 

Just for the Weekend:

Check out the other challenges on the  A to Z Blog Challenge Facebook site. 

Something New: Welcome to the Mid Week Tease

Let me start by welcoming all my new visitors and saying hello to those who drop by regularly. I hope you enjoy my ramblings and musings. Wow! April’s here, and we’re still deep into winter. This doesn’t bode well for spring, summer, and fall since we’ll soon run out of months to fit them all in!

Today I’m trying something new. I was invited to join other writers in providing you with a sample of my stories as a way to pique your interest. Follow the link at the bottom of the post to visit other mid week teases. Comment on mine, and one lucky reader will win an e-copy of Just for the Weekend. 

Just for the Weekend, my new Crimson Romance novel due out April 14, 2014, was inspired by my hubby.. It’s long been a dream of his to attend a sci-fi convention where he could rub shoulders with his Star Trek heroes. While I enjoy the sci-fi stories as much as he does, I’m not sold on spending the weekend doing nothing else. If I were in Vegas, staying at the Rio, I think there are many other things I’d like to do, things I’d like to see. Money would be my only problem. I have rich tastes on a poor person’s budget. 

Meet Cleo. She’s not a huge sci-fi fan, but she’ll do anything for her best friend Mitch, a sci-fi writer, including attend a sci-fi convention and wear a costume. What she discovers on her weekend vacation is far more precious than gold pressed latinum. 

Excerpt from Just For The Weekend:

“Holy crap! You could have warned me.”

Mitch wore a long black wig, heavy brown makeup, and the facial ridges of a female Klingon warrior. Her body was shoved into a tight, black leather corset-styled top that accentuated her breasts and a long, leather skirt paired with heeled boots with silver toecaps. She had a knife of sorts shoved into her belt.

“Wow! You look fantastic. I could use one of the push-up bras from hell if I ever wanted to look sexy.”

“What are you talking about? You’re one of the sexiest woman I know, and you’re completely oblivious to it. Get your nose out of your father’s ancient history books and look at yourself in the light of the twenty-first century. I love you, girl, but sometimes you frustrate me.”

“Yeah, well, let’s agree to disagree on that. I don’t want to be noticed that way. There’s more to me than a set of boobs and long legs. I’m much happier out of the limelight. Now, are you going to tell me about your makeup?”

“It’s a mask. My friend Hailey works at Paramount and made it for me last year. It gets a little warm after a while, but it’s a lot easier than putting the makeup on each time.”

“I wish I had something like that. Where’s the rest of my costume? I’d better be wearing more than green body paint, blood red lipstick, and gold eye shadow.”

“It’s on your bed.”

Cleo stared at the scraps of fabric and jewelry on the spread.

“No way! There’s got to be more to it than that.”

The costume consisted of a burgundy silk bikini bra, a matching string bikini bottom with gold-colored sheer skirt panels front and rear, gold muscle bracelets shaped like snakes, and two-inch wide metallic fabric ankle shackles without the chain.

“You’ve got to be kidding. I’ll look like a semi-naked leprechaun. How does that fit into a sci-fi convention?”

“It happens to be one of the most popular women’s costumes. For the record, leprechauns wear green, and unless they’re some kind of mutants, they aren’t green. With my five-foot-four figure, the costume loses something, but on you, it’ll be awesome.” Mitch handed her a glass of wine. “Here, take a drink and relax. You showed just as much by the pool this afternoon.”

“Yeah, and whose idea was that? I don’t see why I couldn’t wear my black swimsuit this afternoon. You seem to forget about the moral turpitude clause in my contract. Lying around in the sun half-naked is pushing it. I certainly won’t be wearing that blue bikini to take the kiddies swimming at the local pool.”

“That clause is archaic, and you worry about it way too much—between your father’s ‘rules’ and the school board’s ‘thou shall not’s,’ you’re living in the past. Besides you needed a new swimsuit. Even my mother doesn’t wear a one-piece bathing suit like the one you had. I don’t even think my grandma would wear it. You chose the bikini—there was that gorgeous leopard one…”

“You mean the one cut down to my navel in front, and so high on the hips my ass hung out? No thanks. At least the bikini covered most of my boobs and butt.”

“Whatever.” Mitch rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you dressed. We need to be downstairs in twenty minutes.”

Mitch helped her put on what was surely the skimpiest alien costume in the universe. Cleo stood before the mirror staring at the creature looking back at her.

“I look like a mutant leprechaun belly dancer.” She took a sip of her wine. “It’s a damn good thing you didn’t show me this when you asked me to come. I’d have said no.”

 “For the record, you’re not a mutant leprechaun; you’re an Orion slave girl. Men are powerless before you. Too bad that cutie from the bar last night can’t see you. You’re worth a dozen of the brunette he was with. Come here so I can spray the glitter on you.”

Two glasses of wine in quick succession were easing her embarrassment, but as she allowed Mitch to spray the liquid shimmer on her hair and body, she couldn’t resist one final complaint.

“Well, I’d rather wear what you’re wearing. If the air-conditioning is turned up as high as it was this morning, I’ll be an Orion slave icicle!”

“Seriously, Cleo, relax. Don’t be a prude. No one’s going to recognize you. I know you’re not used to showing so much skin, but you look fantastic, and the men will be drooling all around you. Every woman in the room is going to envy you. You’ll be the most sought-after slave girl here. ”

“God, I hope not. That’s the last thing I want. I feel like a chunk of meat on display for a starving man. You’re the extrovert, the one who wants to be the center of attraction. I’m not. I think that’s why we’re friends—because we’re so different.” Horror filled her eyes as she thought of something else. “Crap, I hope no one takes my picture. The last thing I need is to have someone see us on the Internet and recognize me. I’ll wear this tonight because it’s too late to find anything else, but we’re going costume shopping tomorrow. I’m sure we can find something a little less revealing.”

“Whatever you say, but I don’t think anyone’s going to recognize you.”

Cleo turned around and stood in front of the mirror. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Good grief. It’s even worse than I imagined. Thanks to the glitter, her skin reflected the light and looked alive, shimmering as she moved. Her hair shone the same way, and she looked alluring and mysterious. Her large, hazel eyes seemed more golden than ever. Mitch was right about one thing: she didn’t look like a kindergarten teacher from Gordon’s Grove. She looked like a sexy, alien siren. Just the look I want around a bunch of half-drunk Neanderthals. She remembered how decent guys had turned into absolute jerks at university costume parties.

“If it makes you feel better, you can stand behind the table replenishing the books as I sign them and handing out the bookmarks and the other swag the publisher provided. Come on, let’s go.”

Cleo followed her best friend out of the room. She shook her head. Why do I let myself get talked into these things?

***

Cleo followed Mitch into the convention hall packed with hundreds of people in various alien costumes, and allowed some of the excitement in the air to calm her fears. She recognized outfits from various sci-fi movies and television shows. There were several Orion slave girls in a variety of shapes, shades, and sizes, and Cleo saw the not-so-friendly glares she got from them—especially when one of their male friends stared admiringly at her. She nodded in return and chuckled when one girl gave the guy she was with a jab in the ribs.

She tried to keep up with Mitch, who barreled across the room as if she were in a speed-walking race. Barefoot as she was, conscious of the icky, sticky carpet, Cleo moved slowly to avoid stomping boots and heels. She’d almost made it to the promised land of booth security when a giant, in snake-like makeup and the dark gray leather and chain mail associated with the Cardassians, grabbed her arm. He spun her around quickly.

“Hey, let go of my …” Her angry words died on her lips.

“What have we here?” He eyed her hungrily. “Are you lost, my pretty little slave girl?”

Familiar chocolate eyes pierced hers, and she couldn’t think straight. His whiskey-smooth voice caressed her; his touch ignited a fire along her spine. Realizing what he’d said, she searched for an answer.

“Lost? No, I got separated from my Klingon friend. She’s over there.”

She pointed to the publishers’ autograph area where Mitch stood.

“Then allow me to escort you safely to her.”

Holding her close to him, he ushered her across the congested convention floor. He bowed to Mitch and gave the Cardassian salute.

“I believe she’s yours, but I’m entitled to a reward for coming to her assistance.”

He smiled wickedly before pulling Cleo into his arms and capturing her mouth with his.

Cleo held herself rigid, but the kiss poured liquid fire through her. Of their own volition, her arms wrapped around his neck both to hold her upright and to encourage the incredible sensations to continue. His mouth devoured hers as if she was his last meal. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. When he slowly pulled away, she was breathless. She read desire in his eyes.

“Later, my Orion beauty.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

 “Who the hell is that?”

“I have no idea.” Cleo reached for Mitch’s blue-tinted Romulan ale and drained the glass.

 Pre-order: 

Just for the Weekend

Now: Take the time to visit other authors for their Mid Week Teases

 Check next Wednesday for another Mid Week Tease