C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 121
December 18, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday History
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
The Anti-Opium Crusader
By Caroline Warfield
Not all the interesting and colorful characters from the 1830s were British. Lin Zexu, also known as Lin Tse-hsu, a Chinese scholar and government official, rubbed against the British mercantile ambitions of that era with dogged determination and incorruptible integrity. Unfortunately, the First Opium War broke out as one unintended consequence of his efforts. The humiliating defeat and resulting unequal treaty caused in Lin’s downfall. He became a scapegoat and spent much of his remaining years banished to the mountainous central-Asian Xinjiang frontier province of Xinjiang. Today he is widely regarded as a hero in China.
Born August 30, 1785, in in Fujian province in relative poverty, his father, a teacher, made sure he received a classical Confucian education. His brilliance. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
December 14, 2017
Friday Features Wild Whispers
New book
Wild Whispers
by
Ryan Jo Summers
Set against the exciting backdrop in the chase for the Triple Crown and filled with mystical surprises. Season is not a witch, but she can make a horse run and Ty’s heart race.
Season Moriarty is part fey and part druid. She can see the future and alter it. She welds control over the natural elements of earth, wind, fire and water as well as manipulating life and death. And she is an accomplished racehorse trainer, able to get any horse to run like the wind. Now Season has landed the dream job that will test all of her skills and abilities.
Ty Masters runs his horse racing business with an iron fist. No one dares to question him. He hires Season based on her reputation. Then they meet. Immediately, she questions him, challenges him, infuriates him, intrigues him, captivates him, and even intimidates him a little. Then she spellbinds him. But can she make a Triple Crown winner out of his willful colt?
Mysterious threats to Ty’s racehorses bring him and Season together in another kind of race against the clock. As the stakes for the Triple Crown rises and the identity of who wants to destroy Ty, so does the undeniable interest and fiery sparks between them.
Buy link for Wild Whispers
Bio:
Ryan Jo Summers writes mashed romances. Sweet love stories that include any combination of contemporary theme: Christian, humor, mystery, paranormal, shape shifting, suspense, or time travel. She writes non-fiction pieces for various magazines. In addition to a full time job, and a full time writing career, she also has a pet sitting business. She comes from a family of wordsmiths, with members who have been song writers and poets.
In her limited free time, she likes to read, escape to the wilderness and rivers, visit with friends and family, or just hang with her pets. She enjoys chess, crafts, painting, poetry, and word find puzzles. She lives in a century-old mountain cottage in North Carolina with a menagerie of rescued animals and way too many house plants.
My social media links:
December 12, 2017
Wednesday Special Spotlight YA fantasy novella
Shines On
Keeper of the Dawn by Dianna Gunn
Dianna is here sharing her post about the power of stories of hope. SO, take it away Dianna.
Thank you Catherine and Donald for sharing your blog with me today.
The world today is awash in grimdark fantasy and dystopian science fiction, and we’re sure to see an even bigger surge in both genres now that we’ve entered the era of Trump and Brexit. I personally know half a dozen authors who have been inspired to write new dystopian stories, including myself.
Keeper of the Dawn, my debut YA fantasy novella, is a different kind of story. It is a story of hope. There are many struggles along the way, even periods of hopelessness, but in the end hope always returns.
I don’t believe that the timing of my publication is a coincidence. Hope is incredibly precious, and stories of hope are more important now than they have ever been. It is so easy to feel hopeless about everything going on in the world, with governments and corporations working together to destroy our planet and steal our rights. Stories of hope, even fictional ones, help us imagine a brighter future for ourselves.
My wish is that Keeper of the Dawn will remind you there is always hope, even after devastating failures.
All Lai has ever wanted is to become a priestess, like her mother and grandmother before her, in service to her beloved goddess. That’s before the unthinkable happens, and Lai fails the trials she’s trained for her entire life. She makes the only choice she believes she can: she runs away.
From her isolated desert homeland, Lai rides north to the colder, stranger kingdom of Alanum – a land where magic, and female warriors, are not commonplace.
Here, she hears tales about a mountain city of women guardians and steel forgers, worshipping goddesses who sound very similar to Lai’s own. Determined to learn more about these women, these Keepers of the Dawn, Lai travels onward to find their temple. She is determined to make up for her past failure, and will do whatever it takes to join the sacred order.
Falling in love with another initiate wasn’t part of the plan.
Keeper of the Dawn is a story of new beginnings, second chances, and the endurance of hope.
EXCERPT
Lai practiced until well after dark, ignoring the call for supper. She tore a massive hole into one of the dummies with a training sword in her rage, but it didn’t make her feel better. She had spent most of her life training for this day, and Kaiden ruined it with a few words about their father.
Eventually she gave up and collapsed in a heap on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest so she could rest her chin on them. She forced herself to breathe deeply, using all her willpower to push the rage into the ground. Bit by bit it drained into the soil around her, dispersing harmlessly.
She sat like that in the clearing until clouds engulfed the stars and rain started pouring, one of the last rains before the dry weeks of summer. Lifting the hood of her robes to cover her head, she rose and hurried towards the temple.
Her left foot caught on something and Lai flew through the air, losing her grip on her sword and landing face first in a puddle. Her nose shattered when it smashed into the tough ground, and when she grabbed it to feel the damage her hand came away covered in equal parts mud and blood. Her stomach churned as she picked herself back up, her whole body aching.
Something sharp pierced her back, tearing into her skin and muscles like sharp fire. She screamed and fell face first to the ground. She caught herself on her forearms, avoiding bashing her head against the rocky path.
Lai’s attacker pulled the knife out of her shoulder. She screamed as warm blood flowed freely down her back, mixing with the rain. Fiery agony filled her body, blurring her vision. She gritted her teeth and flipped over to face her attacker.
She froze at the familiar sight of white robes with golden cuffs. Another initiate. Her hood hid her face completely.
Lai gathered her strength with a deep, ragged breath and reached for her training sword. The initiate kicked Lai in the back then stomped on her wrist, grinding bone under her boot, sending sharp waves of pain up Lai’s arm.
“You understand, it has to be me.”
Lai knew that voice, but she couldn’t focus on it through the pain, couldn’t remember who it was.
The initiate seized a clump of Lai’s hair and yanked her head backwards. She knelt and raised her knife towards Lai’s exposed throat.
Something knocked the initiate into Lai’s back. Black spots appeared at the edges of her vision as agony surged outward from her wound. The other initiate didn’t move, suffocating Lai with her weight. Lai tried to lift herself up with her elbows, but a fresh wave of pain knocked the wind out of her. She col¬lapsed onto her stomach and closed her eyes, willing her body to die quickly.
AMAZON BUY LINK
Dianna L. Gunn is a freelance writer by day and a fantasy author by night. She had known she wanted to be a writer since she was eight years old. Dianna wrote her first novel for Nanowrimo at the age of eleven years old, but quickly discovered that writing books is not an easy way to make a living. So she decided to broaden her horizons, seeking another career that still allowed her to work with words.
Her freelance writing career started when she became a marketing intern at Musa Publishing(now defunct) in September 2011 and quickly became a staff writer in charge of multiple imprint blogs. Since then she has worked with a variety of small businesses and non-profits to improve their online brands and create long term marketing strategies. Some of her most notable work has been for the tech education non-profit STEAMLabs and natural dog care company ProPooch. She is dedicated to helping her clients build successful brands and making their dreams come true.
Need help creating awesome content for your business? Send an email to diannalgunn@gmail.com explaining what your needs are, and she will help you.
When she isn’t helping her clients bring their dreams to life, Dianna can be found working on her own dream of being a successful fantasy author.
Dianna blogs about writing, creativity, and books at The Dabbler.
Learn more about Dianna on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.
December 11, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday Classic Cocktail
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
10 Interesting Facts About Martinis
By Joanne Guidoccio
When it comes to food and hospitality, Chef David Korba is the consummate pro. In addition to developing signature entrées and desserts, David also offers trademark martinis with such tantalizing names as Babyface, Bellini, and Long Kiss Goodbye.
Definitely an auspicious start to Xenia, an innovative Greek restaurant near Sudbury, Ontario. But the VIP dinner quickly spirals out of control and the guests leave with empty stomachs. Well, almost empty stomachs. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
December 7, 2017
Friday Feature Ghosts of Christmas Past #freebook
Guest shares background of
Ghosts of Christmas Past
by
Jessica Aspen
Today we turn our blog over to an author friend, Jessica Aspen, who’s books we enjoy reading. She is going to share some background on her new book and has a gift for you.
Hi all,
I’m Jessica Aspen and I write twisted fairy tales, fantasy romance and paranormal romance. First of all, I want to thank C.D. Hersh for having me on their blog. And to show how excited I am, I’m offering each and every one of you a free copy of my book, Ghosts of Christmas Past.
I wrote Ghosts of Christmas Past because I love all the thrills, chills and danger of Gothic romance. I was brought up reading classics by authors like Daphne Du Maurier, Victoria Holt, and Phyllis Whitney and when I had the opportunity to write my own modern Gothic, I jumped on it. There’s nothing like writing spooky stories where heroines get to explore old creaky houses. Why, just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine.
I did have a chilling experience a few years ago, not at Christmas, but just before Halloween. I live in Colorado, and the Boulder Historic Society usually does some kind of spooky tour the last weekend in October. It was one of those dark, windy fall nights, and this tour ran from house to house through a neighborhood just outside of the Boulder Downtown. This tour covered the houses of the workers who built the big mansions for the rich people and these craftsmen had put their own special skills into their own small houses. Lovely woodwork and hand-crafted windows made each house special and we could tell they were built with love.
In addition to the historical person, each of the houses had a psychic to give the tour and tell us if they felt any ‘vibes’. We went to the first few, and everything was fine, but just outside of one of the houses I got a chill. It stuck to my back, tracing tension over my skin. We entered the house and got the regular history of the tour, but when the psychic spoke she told us that there was a dark, male energy lurking on the front porch. Yes, this one was haunted, and not only that, to get inside we’d walked right through that heavy, threatening darkness.
We finished the tour, but I couldn’t shake that feeling that some kind of energy was touching the entire skin of my back. I even took it home with me. Brrr!
I’ll never forget that feeling. It took a few days to shake, and boy, was I glad when I finally woke up with it gone. If that was just a lurking memory of a ghost, can you imagine running into the real thing?
I had to write about it. So, that’s how Jen and Nate’s story was born. I hope you enjoy my style of romance, and just to give you the chance, you can download your free copy of Ghosts of Christmas Past HERE, at Amazon.com.
But act fast! This deal will disappear like a ghost on 12/11/17.
And, just so you know what you’re getting into, here’s a sneak peek into the book.
Enjoy!
-Jessica
Ghosts of Christmas Past
By: Jessica Aspen
Gothic romance with a New Adult and Christmas flair.
Jen turned, gazing over the bare winter fields to the tangle of trees. No explanations, no obligations, no complications. For two whole weeks she could just hide here, and write.
The first genuine smile she could remember since April spread her face wide.
Then the pickup arrived.
Black, large, and full of male attitude it parked right next to her vacation house, dwarfing her small car and taking up the entire drive.
“Oh, there’s Nate now.” Mrs. Castlebury waved at the man pushing an eager black Labrador back into the cab while trying to exit the vehicle.
He got the door shut, faced them, and grinned. Dressed in New England casual of laced-up work boots, jeans, and plaid shirt under a denim jacket, Nate Pierce, striding across the snow, hand out in welcome, was a commercial for settling down. Tall. Good-looking in a rugged, works-for-a-living kind of way. And he had a dog. A big, sloppy, super-cute dog, wagging its tail and drooling on the driver’s side window.
For one impulsive moment Jen wished this was her life. She loved big dogs, the country, and secretly, men in plaid shirts, but she hadn’t had the opportunity for any of it since her dad’s death. Their daddy-daughter fishing trips, where he’d gotten to get out of his suit and she’d gotten to be free of her school uniform, had stopped cold the year she’d turned twelve.
This was the first time since then she’d ventured outside of somewhere hot and warm with a very clean, very controlled hotel. Her mom’s idea of a vacation. Of course, neither her mom nor her ex, Jason, tolerated dogs of any size. And as for living outside of the Boston city limits?
Neither of them would consider the horror.
She squashed the sudden surge of loneliness and desire for something she’d probably never have, and pasted on a smile.
Mr. Good-Looking Country Boy tramped through the snow to the porch, pushed his overlong forelock of sandy brown hair off his face, and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Nate Pierce, your landlord.”
“My what?” She shot a quick look at Mrs. Castlebury.
“Your landlord, dear. I’m just the listing agent. Nate owns the house and he’ll see to any upkeep you need.”
“In fact, I’ll be back in an hour or so after you’ve gotten settled and bring the Christmas tree.”
“The Christmas tree?” She’d forgotten. She’d purchased the Christmas in New England package because it had been cheaper than renting by the day. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice chillier than she’d intended.
“I’ve already cut the tree down.” Nate’s friendly grin wavered as did his hand hovering in the air between them. “It would be a shame to waste.”
She didn’t want to be friendly with the neighbors. She wanted to hide out and recuperate. Make up her mind as to what in the world she was going to do next. But good manners won out.
Jen repressed a sigh, reached out, and slid her bare hand into his. As it disappeared into his tan callused grip, her hand seemed slim and small. He squeezed gently and a tingling warmth spread across her skin.
Hot caramel sensation slid from the connection between them, up her palm, along her arm, and through her entire body. Her hand tightened automatically, and a responding spark lit in his eyes.
Jen swallowed. Shoot! She wasn’t ready for this. She was here to lick her wounds, not some guy’s abs. And given the strength in his hand and his wide shoulders, she’d bet he had some killer abs.
She gazed up into Nate’s warm chocolate brown eyes and his face blurred. For a moment she saw another face superimposed over his. Same brown eyes, same tanned, rugged New England skin, but more boyish, broad-boned and black haired.
Every hair on her scalp tried to climb out of its slicked back, ponytailed restriction.
Then her new neighbor’s sharper, more intense features came into focus. Jen panicked and jerked her hand away. Wiping her buzzing palm on her long red wool coat she backed up, nearly running into Mrs. Castlebury.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Pardon me.” She circled around, putting the older woman between herself and Nate Pierce.
What the hell just happened?
Blurb:
When Jen MacNamara flees the Christmas wedding of her best friend to her cheating fiancé she runs to the country to spend the holiday alone. It’s the perfect plan. Until her unexpectedly sexy neighbor and landlord, Nate Pierce, insists on bringing the holiday to her—complete with a Christmas tree, hot chocolate, and an unexpected kiss.
And that’s not Jen’s only problem.
The cozy country farmhouse is already occupied…by something evil. Now Jen’s nights are spent wrapped in sensual dreams of a past life, and her days growing closer to Nate, as they solve the mystery of the malevolent ghost that haunts not only the house, but also wants Jen dead.
Dare to discover Jessica Aspen’s spicy, new adult, contemporary, Gothic romance, today.
Available at: Amazon.com
Add Ghosts of Christmas Past to your Goodreads shelf.
Short Bio:
Jessica Aspen always wanted to be spirited away to a world inhabited by elves, were-wolves and sexy men who walk on the dark side of the knife. Luckily, she’s able to explore her fantasy side and delve into new worlds by writing spicy paranormal romance. She loves indulging in dark chocolate, reading eclectic novels, and dreaming of ocean vacations, but instead spends most of her time, writing, walking the dog, and hiking in the Colorado Rockies.
Click HERE to claim your FREE book today.
To get your exclusive Jessica Aspen Starter Library please go to: http://eepurl.com/zs4Sj
Find Jessica at:
Website
Goodreads
Twitter
Facebook
Pinterest
Amazon author page
December 5, 2017
Wednesday Special Spotlight Holiday Punch
Shines On
Leigh Goff
A holiday drink all adults will enjoy.
HOLIDAY PUNCH
1 750-ml bottle orange vodka
2 750-ml bottles Prosecco
2 1-liter bottles of orange-flavored seltzer
½ gallon orange juice
½ gallon lemonade
2 pints orange sorbet
Gently mix vodka, Prosecco, seltzer, orange juice, and lemonade in a large punch bowl.
Scoop the sorbet into the punch bowl, so it has time to melt. Add the ice ring to keep the punch cold and colorful.
ICE RING
Water
15 seedless red grapes
10 maraschino cherries, halved
1 orange, peeled and sliced thin
In a 6 – 6½ cup ring mold, arrange thin citrus slices and grapes or cherries in an attractive design. Pour water into mold to partially cover fruit. Freeze.
When frozen, add water to fill mold ¾ full. Refreeze. At serving time, unmold and float fruit side up in punch bowl.
If you prefer, freeze ring without decorations. Or, instead of water, freeze with orange juice. This will keep punch cold without diluting it.
Serves 12 – 15
Here’s a little from my latest novel to enjoy as you sip your punch.
Hannah, the thirteenth great-granddaughter of the Wizard Earl Fitzgerald, has always known she was descended from a troubled legacy of alchemy and dark magic. Although a stranger to her coven in Annapolis, she is no stranger to grief and denial; however, when an ancient prophecy reveals the rise of a young, powerful witch and the impending death of another, she realizes she can no longer afford to suppress the magic that has taken away so much. She seeks out the frighteningly scarred, yet mysterious W who is destined to change her life, but even he cannot prepare her for the secrets she must unlock – including one that reveals the location of an unimaginably powerful elixir.
Enemies will hurt her. Loved ones will make her vulnerable. And the impending prophecy that drives her to unleash her magic will cause her to unearth the sins of the past and doubt any promise of a future. Without knowing whom her true rival is, Hannah isn’t certain she’ll survive the game Fate is playing, and if she loses, she may lose everything, including the ones she loves.
EXCERPT
The imposing entrance segued into the main part of the old family chapel. Shadows flickered across the white walls as candlelight streamed down from an ornate iron chandelier cradling clear-colored hurricanes. Angelic sculptures hung between the arched windows and beneath the cloud-painted ceiling that Michelangelo himself would have envied, four wooden pews graced each side of the aisle.
I tiptoed farther in and spotted another black-lined white envelope on the altar. I was definitely in the right place.
My fingers trembled as I traced the letters that formed my name. This was way beyond ordinary, but why and—more importantly—who?
“W?”
A hint of the Shadow’s amber and woods scent mixed with the faint candle smoke of the chapel. “No. Way.” I spun around ready to stomp right out of there.
In that moment, a heavy gaze fell on me and the air felt charged with electricity. I searched right and left, seeing no one. “W? Whoever you are, show yourself.”
“This will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.” His potent voice reverberated off the walls and seemed to come from everywhere, including the inside of my head.
I locked my wandering gaze on the loft above the entrance where I spotted his silhouette. “Was leaving me in a burning wreck the hardest thing you ever had to do? Was it?” I raised my volume. “Who are you? Why did you leave me for dead?”
His intake of breath was audible. “I would never. I mean. I didn’t want to do that. I don’t.”
“Oh, lucky me.” I stuck my hands on my hips and tapped an impatient foot on the floor. “If you don’t want to finish me off, then you lured me here to do what, exactly?”
“To help you. I want to help you.”
“Ha!” The sarcastic laugh burst out before I could stop it. “You’ve done a bang up job inspiring my confidence and trust in that department.”
He simmered in silence for a moment. “What do I have to do to inspire you to follow my directions?”
Following someone else’s directions was definitely not my strength. I grimaced, but curiosity got the better of me. “What do you want?”
“You read the note.”
His desire to remain in the shadows was increasingly irritating. “I consider myself a very smart girl, so when a guy who left me in a burning car tells me he wants to help me take on a different deadly problem, I have to wonder if he’s not setting me up to fend for myself again. What’s your motive?”
I dropped my eyes to the envelope, turning it to and fro.
“Emme Blackstone is a mutual enemy and means us both harm.” A tinge of anger laced his tone.
The anger, I understood. After all, we were talking about Emme, but there was also a hint of sadness that intrigued me further. “Why do you think Emme means you harm?”
“It’s inevitable—because of what I am.”
What was he besides completely contemptible?
“It’s in her blood and I believe it’s in her destiny to wreak havoc, especially against someone who can challenge her in talent like you can.”
I dropped my hands to my sides, still clasping the enveloping. “Whoa. Like me? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. How could you? I’ve been gone for the last year.”
A chortle caught in his throat. “What’s a year when you come from a bloodline with hundreds of years of history? A history that’s written down and available to certain people with the right—pedigree.”
Confused, I creased my brow as I continued to stare at his silhouette. “Have you been cyber-stalking me on Ancestry.com or something?”
“Hardly.” There was disdain in his voice as if he considered cyber-stalking to be worse than leaving a girl to die.
“Look, whatever you think you know about my family, I’m not like them. I’m not talented, and I don’t want to challenge Emme. I just want to live a normal life. Normal.” My voice escalated. “Do you hear me all the way up there?”
He huffed. “Normal? You don’t get to pretend to be normal when you’re not. It doesn’t work like that. Not in Annapolis. Someone always knows. Someone always unravels your secrets.”
I thought of the Witch’s Grave. I pictured the women’s slender figures dangling from sturdy, gnarled branches. Their tragic endings proved what I already knew. Magic only brought suffering and death. “You make it sound like I don’t have a choice. I’m telling you I do, and I won’t be a part of this.” I stomped my foot hard on the floor.
He shifted from the shadows into a dim ray of light, seething. “You read the note and you know Emme won’t stop. You need my help.”
I glared, trying desperately to make out the details of his face. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“You don’t have to like it, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a part of this. You know you are or you wouldn’t have come here. However, if that’s how you feel then you should leave.” The cold in his voice crystallized.
My pulse escalated. “Yup. That’s how I feel. And I’m only leaving because that’s what I want to do, not because you suggested it. Bye.” I marched to the door and wrapped my hand around the knob. I yanked it open. From the moment I’d first laid eyes on him, he’d been nothing but trouble. Horrible, awful trouble. However, as much as I hated to think it, he knew about me and the other witches in town. He was full of answers—answers I needed. I shut the door and turned back around. “How do you know all this about Emme and me?”
AMAZON BUY LINK
Leigh Goff loves writing young adult fiction with elements of magic and romance because it’s also what she liked to read. Born and raised on the East Coast, she now lives in Maryland where she enjoys the area’s great history and culture.
Leigh is a graduate of the University of Maryland, University College and a member of the Maryland Writers’ Association and Romance Writers of America. She is also an approved artist with the Maryland State Arts Council. Her debut novel, Disenchanted, was inspired by the Wethersfield witches of Connecticut and was released by Mirror World Publishing. Leigh is currently working on her next novel, The Witch’s Ring which is set in Annapolis.
Learn more about Leigh Goff on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads.
December 4, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday Civil War History
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Elizabeth Van Lew–Self-Taught Spy
By Becky Lower
The Civil War was a trying time in America’s history, and brought out the best and worst in people. The nation divided itself into North and South, with the livelihood of the South hanging in the balance. A person’s sensibilities on the issue of slavery did not always necessarily align with their state’s position on the matter.
Female spies on both sides of the conflict were known as secret agents in hoop skirts. Historian Elizabeth Leonard, author of All The Daring of the Soldier: Women of the Civil War Armies, claims “One of the things that made women so effective as spies during this time period was that. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 30, 2017
Friday Features Nerd Who Spied Me
Guest talks about
Secret Operative
by
D.R. Grady
What is a secret operative?
The short answer is—I have no idea! I’m not entirely cognizant on the training secret operatives receive, or the skills they’re expected to possess. The little I know I picked up from books and the internet. Who knows if that information is accurate?
In the usual manner of writers, I made up my characters’ abilities for my newest story, THE NERD WHO SPIED ME. I need them to know how to do certain things in select scenes, so they display that aptitude.
I can certainly state that my characters who are secret operatives, or spies, as they are also known, are impressive people with impressive expertise. My secret operative characters possess the Navy SEAL and Army Ranger skill sets. These include, but are not limited to—weaponry, multiple languages, advanced survival skills, in-depth computer knowledge, and basic medical training. They can function in any terrain and are trained to handle any situation.
Or they die. We can therefore conclude that those who have lived long enough to retire are impressive people. I’m not entirely clear on their missions. I suspect I don’t have a high enough security clearance to be privy to their assignments.
You’ll meet Cian Hunter and Verity Wellington in THE NERD WHO SPIED ME, two operatives who both have plenty of successful jobs to their record—a major feat. They’ve endured situations they can’t talk about, and typically don’t think about either.
This book is a little darker than my usual novels, and it’s entirely due to their profession. I couldn’t write this in the usual lighthearted manner as most of my books. Although you’ll encounter plenty of humor, their very lives are often in jeopardy, so I couldn’t undermine this by glossing over the stomach squelching aspects of their assignments.
It’s still a romp and still has my lighter voice, as well as plenty of the Morrison family who make an appearance. I hope you’ll pick up a copy of THE NERD WHO SPIED ME to enjoy.
The Nerd Who Spied Me blurb
Cian Hunter is tasked with the impossible: find Verity Wellington and bring her home safely. His survival is not guaranteed.
Everyone in their business knows Verity is perfectly capable of getting herself home, since she’s the gut-them-first-and-ask-questions-later type of operative. She also has the advantage of knowing where she is, which would be helpful.
He accepts the assignment, aware two operatives are better than one when dealing with the nebulous factions who lurk in the shadows. Plus, the chance to get close to Verity to see if his attraction to her is more than a fleeting interest is too good to pass up. Provided she doesn’t gut him first.
Cian is confident in his secret operative abilities, despite wishing to leave them behind. However, his relationship goals leave something to be desired. If he can figure those out… he might stand a chance of getting them both home alive.
The Nerd Who Spied Me buy links:
Createspace: coming soon!
BIO:
D.R. Grady lives with her husband near Hershey, PA. She adores chocolate, laughing, collecting bags, books, and shoes, and writing stories that resonate with others.
Find D.R. Grady at:
Website Amazon Facebook Twitter Google+ Instagram
Other works by D.R. Grady
The Morrison Family Series:
The Nerd and the Marine
The Corpsman and the Nerd
the Nerd and the SEAL
The Nerd’s Pocket Pets
Shadows and Spice
Macy’s Parade
Bad Nerd Rising
Bad Nerd Falling
Nerds on Fire
Nerds Unite
The Trouble with Nerds
The Nerd who Spied Me
The Me Series:
Treasure Me
Save Me
Trust Me
Heal Me
Love Me
The Dragon Chronicles Series:
The Dragon Chronicles Book 1: Learning
The Dragon Chronicles Book 2: Shifting
The Drabon Chronicles Book 3: Healing
For additional buying options and updates, please visit my Website.
November 28, 2017
Wednesday Special Spotlight #sweet, #southern #romance of forgiveness & #second chances, love & fun kids.
Shines On
The ever-interesting Ryan Jo Summers bringing us her Homemade Alphabet Soup and a sweet, southern romance of forgiveness & second chances, love & fun kids, Rainbows in the Moonlight. Be sure to get your copy today!
Koda Jacobs urgently needs a nanny–right now. Fresh from prison, Dalton Clayton needs a job–and just about anything will do.
Divine Intervention steps in and tosses Koda and Dalton together. Koda struggles with the conflicts of her impulsive decision to leave her babies with an unknown, convicted felon. That just can’t be wise, can it? But she can’t help but see how quickly the children bonded to him and trust him. Or the reassuring sense that this is just right. Meanwhile, Dalton stumbles through the spills and thrills of two young children, and his growing interest in their mother. A chance meeting brings him back to his estranged family as well.
Over time mutual attraction forms between Koda and Dalton as the bond between Dalton and the children deepens. A sweet, southern romance full of forgiveness, second chances, and fun kids.
Koda Jacobs is a widow, a single mother of two young children. She has a mama with Alzheimer’s disease, and a full time job outside the home. She tries to cook good, nutritious meals and spend quality “table time” with her children. Except it’s hard. So she relies on quick recipes she can make from scratch, with a few modernized shortcuts. One example is Homemade Alphabet Soup. Perfect for a chilly night when time is short. And like most busy moms, Koda likes recipes that items can be subbed if she is out of something without requiring a run to the store. This one takes a mere 30 minutes or less.
1 Lb ground beef
1 medium onion, chopped
2 quarts tomato juice
1 can (15 oz) mixed vegetables, un-drained–or frozen equivalent
1 Cup water
2 Beef bullion cubes or 2 tsp. bullion granules
1 Cup alphabet pasta or small pasta
Salt and Pepper to taste
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1. In large saucepan, cook ground beef and onion over medium heat until meat is no longer pink. Drain. Add tomato juice, vegetables, water and bullion; bring to a boil. Add pasta.
2. Cook uncovered, for 6-8 minutes or until pasta is tender, stirring frequently. Add salt and pepper.
Yield: 10-12 servings, (2 3/4 quarts)
* Can also be topped with shredded cheese or sour cream dollop and chives, etc.
* If there is no small pasta on hand, substitute instant rice or quick cooking barley.
Nutritional Facts 1 cup: 148 calories, 4g fat (2g saturated fat), 19mg cholesterol, 858mg sodium, 19g carbohydrate (7g sugars, 2g fiber), 10g protein.
Source: Taste of Home Ground Beef Cookbook 1999
Excerpt:
Finally she reached her road, then her driveway. Pulse racing, she parked and approached the front door. Swinging it open, the utter quietness greeted her and made her pulse sky rocket. The house was never quiet when she returned with Mandy in charge. It was noisy with the kids playing or fighting. The television would be blaring or the radio cranked. Or else they’d be out in the yard, drop what they were doing, and race to meet her.
Now, the eerie silence chilled her as blood roared in her ears. Goosebumps popped up along her arms. She reached for her cell phone. That still, calm quietness persisted, telling her to go slow. Huffing a breath, she replaced the cell phone. She could still call 9-1-1 in thirty seconds when no one answered her greeting.
“Hello?” she called out, moving along the hallway to the living room. “Is anyone here?” She cast about, searching for evidence to tell the police. Both back packs lay on the floor. Terry’s school work was stacked on the table. A sparkle caught her eye. Ruthie’s red sparkly shoes peeked out from the full curtain.
A rush of breath left her feeling weak as she swept the curtain aside, revealing Ruthie glaring up at her.
“Mommy, we’re playing hide-and-seek. He’ll find me if I don’t re-hide.” She stoutly tugged the curtain back in place.
Re-hide? Hide and seek? She watched the drape settle back, with just the tips of her red sparkly sneakers extending. About to cover them, she heard footsteps. Looking up, Dalton came into the room.
“Okay, ready or not, here I come.” Seeing her, he slammed to a halt, color flooding his face. He jabbed his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans and rocked backward. “Hi. We’re, um, playing hide and seek.”
She nodded, a bit distracted by the sight of his obvious embarrassment. “So that explains why I don’t see the kids.” What else could she say? “How’d it go today?”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, looking around the room. “Okay. Ruthie creamed me in Candyland. Terry’s homework is all done. They’ve had something to eat and the kitchen is cleaned up.” He paused, looking around harder. “And now I’m supposed to find them. Somewhere.”
She smothered her smile. It sounded like it went well. She had to admit, she was impressed. And thoughtful. Mandy didn’t always clean up after meals. And Terry might sometimes still have homework for her to help with. Mandy tried but Koda guessed she hadn’t been the best student when in school. Terry said she tended to give up too soon on things like math and science. And Dalton’s perplexed expression slowly lit a fuse inside her that had long been extinguished.
“Are they supposed to be just in here? Or anywhere in the house?” She knew the rules usually changed with each game they played. He shrugged, as if not sure himself.
“Ah-ha! Got ya!” Striding to the window, he pulled back the curtain, smiling down at Ruthie’s frown. “Hello there.”
“How’d you find me? Was it Mommy?”
He blinked. “No, I just got lucky. Now let’s go find your brother.” He extended his hand and she automatically reached for it. Watching them marching off, something slammed in Koda’s heart. Dropping her purse, she sank to the sofa, hand pressed to her fluttering chest. It felt like wings of a caged bird, desperate to fly.
“Ruthie,” she called, clearing her throat. “What are the rules? Where can you hide?”
“Terry said we got to stay here in the living room.”
Dalton shot her an appreciate glance, warming her all over. Still holding Ruthie’s hand he stopped. “Okay, I give. Where are you at, Buddy?”
Buddy? He just called Terry Buddy? A thud sounded, making everyone look at the closet near the hallway. The door swung open and Terry tumbled out, landing in a pile of assorted toys, umbrellas, and a bunch of stuff she’d forgotten about.
“No fair, Terry! You didn’t say we could hide inside stuff.”
He stood up, dusting himself off. “Well duh, Ruthie. Think about it. Hide and seek.”
Koda bit back a groan. Dalton knelt at his side, pushing stuff back inside. “Great spot, Buddy. Good thinking. Ruthie, now you’ll know for next time, right?”
“Can we play again?”
Dalton shot a look at Koda. “Now that your mama’s home, I should go.”
“Tomorrow?”
Chuckling, he tipped her nose with his finger, then stood up, turning to Koda. She jumped to her feet. “We never discussed your payment.” She cleared her throat again. “Would you prefer daily or weekly? It seems you survived your first day so I assume you are open to the rest of the week?” Not only did he survive, clearly better than she had, he seemed to have created a firm bond with the kids. They clustered around him, not ready to say good-bye.
“Daily is fine. If that’s not a problem for you.”
Color touched his cheeks again. The man sure could blush easily. She reached for her pocketbook. “Not at all.” She handed out the bills, glad she’d gone to the ATM at lunchtime. He held her hand a moment, the heat searing her skin. An intensity darkened his brown eyes, making her breath race away like a fluttering bird, finally freed.
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about if I could. Alone.”
She licked her lips, nervous at his somber tone. “Sure. Kids, stay here a minute.” She motioned him out toward the porch.
“Are you coming back tomorrow, Dalton?”
He smiled, and then looked over to Koda. “I sure hope so.”
Her heart raced ahead, caught on the ache in his voice. What could he want to talk about that would affect him coming back? He was incredible with the kids. Far better than she had assumed. She led him back outside, heart thumping. Realizing he had stopped following, she looked back, then smiled. He stood, hands back in his pockets, staring at her favorite painting. The silent angst on his face knocked at her heart. This, at least, she understood.
A full three feet wide, and almost as high, it was an imposing piece of art. A mountain scene, a dark and stormy night, with a semi-truck barreling down the steep mountain road. Hard, merciless rain fell, pummeling the rig. White lightning sliced through the black sky. A driver peered out, anxiety lining his face. Headlights swept the rocky grade, illuminating the storm’s fierce onslaught. How many times had she felt like she were caught in the same storm?
The saving grace was the superimposed white-robed, bearded man painted over the top of the truck and trailer, pointing the way, calmly and steadily guiding the driver safely down the mountainside. A light penetrated the darkness, illuminating the way to safety. The plaque beneath simply read ‘Fear not, I am with thee.’ Those words never failed to calm her racing fears.
Dalton’s lips moved, as he read the words slowly to himself. Yes, she understood. Stepping to Dalton, she rested a hand gently on his shoulder, noting when he jumped a little.
“It’s Isaiah.”
He looked over at her, blush touching his face again. “Sorry, I’m not familiar with his work.”
“No, it’s from the book of Isaiah. In the Bible. He was a prophet in the Old Testament. I don’t know who painted the picture. But it’s very powerful, isn’t it? Now was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
By the way– this painting is real. We had one hanging on our wall when I was growing up, complete with Isaiah quote plaque. It’s been lost over many moves and us kids growing up. I am not sure what happened to it, but would dearly love to get another copy of it someday.
Bio:
Ryan Jo Summers writes mashed romances. Sweet love stories that include any combination of contemporary theme: Christian, humor, mystery, paranormal, shape shifting, suspense, or time travel. She writes non-fiction pieces for various magazines. In addition to a full time job, and a full time writing career, she also has a pet sitting business. She comes from a family of wordsmiths, with members who have been song writers and poets.
In her limited free time, she likes to read, escape to the wilderness and rivers, visit with friends and family, or just hang with her pets. She enjoys chess, crafts, painting, poetry, and word find puzzles. She lives in a century-old mountain cottage in North Carolina with a menagerie of rescued animals and way too many house plants.
My social media links:
November 27, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday Why Write?
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
The Importance of Balance
By Toni Kelly
Why do we write? I’m sure the answer to that question differs for each of us. And for some of us, writing simply may not be a passion, perhaps it is reading or running or golf. If I were to ask you (or someone important in your life were to ask you) to give up your most favorite thing, your absolute stress reliever, could you? Would you?
A few weeks ago as I was. . .
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