C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 93
November 28, 2019
Friday Feature Understanding Vehicle Love @Amontgomery8
Guest talks about
Liking cars
by
Anne Montgomery
I have never cared much about cars. Never understood why people spend so much to get the newest, fastest, sleekest version with the most gadgets. The last vehicle I bought came after my mechanic pointed at my ancient Geo Prism and ordered me to drive it one last time.
“Take it to a dealership and turn it in,” he advised. “Get a new car!”
The day I abandoned my Prism in a dealer’s parking lot, I found a vehicle that spoke to me. It was a black Ford Ranger pickup. Slightly used – I think I read 14 thousand miles on the speedometer. Black paint sparkled in the Arizona sun. I drove it around the block.
“That’s the one,” I said to my sweetie pie, who’d accompanied me on my car hunt. Following what felt like half a day of paperwork, I drove my new truck home.
Later, I stood proudly by my recent purchase. My mother squinted at the pickup’s bed where I’d installed a bright silver toolbox to hold my rock collecting gear, camping equipment, and emergency rations on the off chance I might find myself stuck in the wilderness for any length of time.
She stared at me. “Aren’t you afraid of what people will think of you?”
“I am a black pickup kind of girl, Mom.”
She shook her head.
“Really.”
My truck is now going on 19. I love my old truck. We share lots of memories: good, bad, and ugly. Together we’ve had countless adventures into the mountains and deserts, some wondrous, some difficult, and a few rather dangerous, in retrospect. Still, we always made it home. Eventually.
Then, my parents, in their nineties, mercifully decided to give up their car. I had been begging them for years to stop driving. Anyone who’s butted up against that major-life decision understands the complexities inherent in taking the keys away from mom and dad.
“We’ll sell the car,” my mother finally announced.
That vehicle, a blue 2010 Ford Fusion, now sits in my driveway. Though my mom continues to tell anyone who will listen that I took the car, Ryan and I wrote them a check for a little over seven grand.
A funny thing happened when I started driving the Fusion. I liked the built-in bells and whistles. Note that the vehicle is not high end, but compared to my truck, the little car is like owning a rocket ship. We call her Zippy. Now, when I drive my pickup, it feels only slightly more mobile than a covered wagon.
Then I got a letter in the mail: AIRBAG RECALL! I stared at the red triangle depicting a driver facing a steering wheel that had burst into flames. I read the section that said, “Until parts are available …your dealer is authorized to provide you with a rental vehicle.”
Today, a 2018 Ford Fusion Platinum sits in my driveway. The car boasts a power tilt/telescoping steering column with memory, dual integrated bright exhaust, premium leather-wrapped and stitched instrument panel and console rails, and myriad other extras I couldn’t possibly explain. The overall effect is…well…Wow!
I’ve had the rental for several months. It seems Ford is having a great deal of trouble getting the parts to fix the airbag that might explode and shred me with shrapnel. Apparently, 37 million vehicles have been identified as needing the fix, and more are expected to be added to the list. Takata, the maker of the defective airbags, announced it might take five years to install all the replacements.
I wonder sometimes, especially when those comfy leather seats are hugging me in their soft embrace, when I will have to return my pretty sedan. Neither Ford nor the rental company seem to care that the $40,000 vehicle is occupying space in my driveway day after day.
I have never cared much about cars. Never understood why people spend so much to get the newest, fastest, sleekest version with the most gadgets. Until now.
Perhaps Ford will forget about my cute little rental. I’ve grown quite fond of her.
Here is a brief intro to my novel dealing with abuse and it’s aftermath. I hope you’ll take a moment to peek into it.
Two Arizona teens find their fates intertwined. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?
Rose Madsen will do anything to keep from being married off to one of the men in her Fundamentalist Mormon (FLDS) community, even endure the continued beatings and abuse of her mother. But when her mentally handicapped baby sister is forced to strangle the bird she loves at the behest of the Prophet, Rose frees the bird and runs away.
Adan Reyes will do anything to escape the abusive foster care system in Phoenix, even leaving his good friends and successful high school athletic career behind him. Ill-prepared for surviving the desert, Adan hits the road only to suffer heat stroke. Found by a local handyman, he catches a glimpse of a mysterious girl—Rose—running through town, and follows her into the mountains where they are both tracked and discovered by the men of the FLDS community.
With their fates now intertwined, can Rose and Adan escape the systems locking them into lives of abuse? Will Rose be forced to marry the Prophet, a man her father’s age, and be one of dozens of wives, perpetually pregnant, with no hope for an education? Will Adan be returned to the foster home where bullying and cruelty are common? Is everyone they meet determined to keep them right where they belong or are some adults worthy of their trust?
BUY LINKS
Amazon Paperback – Amazon Kindle
Anne Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. She worked at WRBL‐TV in Columbus, Georgia, WROC‐TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP‐TV in Phoenix, Arizona, ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award‐winning SportsCenter, and ASPN-TV as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery has been a freelance and staff writer for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces.
When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.
Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.
November 26, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight Thanksgiving
Shines On
Thanksgiving
May the day find you blessed with family and food. Enjoy sharing what you are thankful for this year.
November 25, 2019
Tell Again Tuesday Combating Self-doubt
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Writers, Don’t Let Doubt Stop You!
By Lorraine Ambers
There comes a time in every artist’s journey when crippling self-doubt sets in. It’s an agonising period where all your hopes and dreams become overshadowed with fear. But before you scoop out the ice-cream and take cover in your bed, vowing to never write again, try . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 21, 2019
Friday Feature The Turning Stone Chronicles
Character interview with the
Hero of
The Turning Stone Chronicles
Moderator: Today we are talking with Rhys Temple, the hero in The Promised One and an important character throughout The Turning Stone Chronicles. There are several questions we would like to ask you today and then we will let the commenters ask some questions if that’s okay with you?
Rhys: Fire away.
Moderator: Was it difficult working with Alexi Jordan while falling in love with her?
Rhys: Difficult? No, I wouldn’t say it was difficult, especially with the way she looks and moves. Working with her was easy as we seemed to fit together very well, and as our love grew, going to work got easier each day. Things only became difficult when I found out about her secret and the Turning Stone Society.
Moderator: Did you suspect that Alexi had feelings for you?
Rhys: There were some signs, hints you might say, over the years. Alexi has a very intense way of looking and reacting when she is interested in something. I could see that appear in her when the other women in the office made any overtures toward me. Gladys said Alexi really went at a couple of the women when they were deciding who was baking my birthday cake. Glad I wasn’t in the squad-room for that.
Moderator: Were the consequences of admitting your love worth the risk?
Rhys: Well, that question hasn’t been fully answered yet through the four books in the series. Our authors, C. D. Hersh, don’t plan for us to come to fully grasp what all the risks are until the sixth and final book of the series. I have to say though; if you don’t take a risk on love then I’m sure you are going to miss out on a lot. Took me some time to understand that.
Moderator: How long have you known you loved Alexi?
Rhys: Ha! Everyone seems to ask that question. Of course, she looked great from the beginning, so I was attracted. But it was her drive, determination and, I think, dedication to the police work that really drew me in. If I have to pick a specific point that would be about a year after we started working together. There was a murder case, about a dock-worker, where she didn’t wait for me to get to her location before she charged in. For some reason something told me to go around to the back side of the warehouse to enter. That put me behind the guys who had tied Alexi up and were going to use her as a hostage. I was able to take one of them down but the other one almost stabbed me in the back. Even tied up, Alexi was able to block the knife, but she got sliced on her arm. From that point on I realized I loved her.
Moderator: What’s next for the two of you?
Rhys: I’m not the one you should be asking. I am aware that our authors are working on the fifth book of our series and, given what we’ve been through, I’m guessing there is more shape shifting and fighting the rogues. I’m hoping we get to settle back soon and let the youngsters take over but before that happens Alexi has to realize that our son has grown into a man.
Moderator: Okay, now that Rhys has answered some questions from us, what question would you like to ask him?
Excerpt from the Promised One:
No one knew what Rhys Temple liked better than Alexi Jordan. That’s what made them such good partners. That same intimacy would also make them great lovers, a thought that had crossed her mind many times.
Alexi retrieved Rhys’ birthday cake from the back seat of her car. The privilege of baking this momentous-occasion pastry had almost brought her to blows with the rest of the females in the precinct office. She scooped up his birthday gift and then dropped it as the cake box slid down her arm. A quick slap on the clear plastic lid stopped the perilous drop, but squished the yellow roses she’d so carefully crafted onto the German Chocolate cake.
She examined the decorations. Rhys’ name, age, and birthday salutation were intact. She sighed. “So much for presentation.”
A deep chuckle sounded behind her. “Need some help?”
“Hey, birthday boy.” Alexi motioned toward Rhys. “Get your gift.”
His eyebrows rose, and a seductive grin eased across his face as his arm circled Alexi’s waist.
Electricity shot through her causing her to shudder. “Not me.” At least, not for now. “The box. In the car.”
“Oh, that gift.” He released her, his hand trailing across her back.
She jabbed at him with her elbow.
He shrugged, his grin playful. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
He’d been “trying” for some time now. It was starting to get to her, but there was no way she could afford to give in. Too many things stood in the way.
As he maneuvered his tall body in front of her, his taut abdomen brushed against her in a way she felt was purposely seductive. Old Spice cologne mixed with a manly scent, uniquely Rhys, drifted past her. She loved the way he smelled.
She backed away. He made concentrating difficult. So much that in the year and a half they’d worked homicide, she’d often been tempted to ask for another partner. But the thought of not spending most days with him always changed her mind.
Now here is a little about the paranormal series, The Turning Stone Chronicles.[image error]
Three ancient Celtic families. A magical Bloodstone that enables the wearers to shape shift. A charge to use the stone’s power to benefit mankind, and a battle, that is going on even today, to control the world. Can the Secret Society of shape shifters called the Turning Stone Society heal itself and bring peace to our world? Find out in The Series The Turning Stone Chronicles.
The Promised One , book one:
When homicide detective Alexi Jordan is forced to use her shape shifting powers to catch a paranormal killer, she risks the two most important things in her life—her badge and the man she loves.
Blood Brothers , book two:
Shape shifter Delaney Ramsey’s daughter is missing, and she is bound by honor to protect the man she suspects of the deed. To bring him to justice, she must go against her code, the leader of the secret shifter society, and the police captain she is falling for.
Son of the Moonless Night , book three:
Thrust back into the world of paranormal huntress, Deputy Coroner Katrina Romanovski must unravel a string of murders she believes are vampire attacks. When she discovers the shape shifter she’s in love with is the murderer, she must reconcile her feelings for him, examine her life of violence against paranormals, and justify deceiving him in order to bring him to justice.
The Mercenary and the Shifters , book four:
A desperate call from an ex-military buddy lands a mercenary soldier in the middle of a double kidnapping, caught in an ancient shape shifter war, and ensnared between two female shape shifters after the same thing … him.
November 19, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight Chocolate Mousse from @CarolABrowne
Shines On
The multi-talented Carol Browne who brings us an exciting dessert rich with flavour and low in calories plus her latest book.
Image by Chris Tweten from Pixabay
Chocolate Mousse
1 ripe avocado
1 large ripe banana
2 tbsp. cocoa powder
2 tbsp. cold water
Put ingredients in a blender and blitz until smooth.
Spoon mixture into 4 small dishes or glasses.
Chill in the fridge for a couple of hours.
You can add your sprinkles of choice on top, e.g. coconut or chopped nuts or whatever teases your taste buds.
It’s perfect for guests or just a treat for yourself. Give it a try and let me know what you think.
How about a little from my latest psychological fiction while you’re waiting for your mousse to chill?
Gillian Roth finds herself in middle age, living alone, working in a dull job, with few friends and little excitement in her life. So far, so ordinary.
But Gillian has one extraordinary problem.
Her house is full of other people… people who don’t exist. Or do they?
As her surreal home life spirals out of control, Gillian determines to find out the truth and undertakes an investigation into the nature of reality itself.
Will this provide an answer to her dilemma, or will the escalating situation push her over the edge before she has worked out what is really going on?
EXCERPT
Thursday, 26th March, 2015.
My house is filled with people who don’t exist.
They have no substance. They are neither alive nor dead. They aren’t hosts or spirits. They aren’t in any way shape or form here, but I can see them, and now I need to make a record of how they came to be under my roof.
Why now? Why today? Because we line in strange times, and today is one of the strangest days this year; this is the day that Richard III, the last Plantagenet king of England, was interred in Leicester Cathedral, with all due ceremony, 530 years after he was slain at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. How surreal is that? I watched the highlights on Channel 4 earlier. A couple of my house guests sat with me and together we marveled at the event. They did Richard proud, no doubt of that.
I left them to it after a while and came up here to my bedroom to start writing a diary: this diary.
Life feels unreal today, as if time has looped back onto photo albums. The house clearly passed must itself and everything is happening now. And if I can set my thoughts down on paper, perhaps I can make sense of everything, make it all real somehow.
Where did it start, this thing that has happened to me? A couple of years ago? I can’t say when. It evolved without my conscious input. The existence of my house guests was a fact long before I began to wonder at it. I do wonder at it now and I know I must keep track of what’s happening before I lose myself in this crowd of imaginary beings.
At first there was only a few of them, and I observed their doings without much concern. I watched them snooping around the place, choosing the most comfortable chairs to sit in, leaning against the furniture, inspecting the bookcases, checking the kitchen utensils, and peering into my photo albums. The house clearly passed muster and they stayed. In time, they knew me down to the marrow. I have never known them as well as they know me. They have an air of mystery, as though they have a life outside my house they will never divulge. Even so, I felt I was safe with them and I could tell them my problems. Tell them what no-one else must ever hear. And so these shades thickened, quickened; their personalities accumulated depth and solidity, as though they were skeletons clothing themselves in flesh.
I no longer came home to a cold, empty house, but to a sanctuary where attentive friends awaited my return. I was embraced by their jovial welcome when I stepped through the door. I never knew which of them would be there, but one or two at least would always be waiting to greet me, anxious to hear about my day and make me feel wanted, and for a while I could forget the problems I have at work (even the one that bothers me the most). Since then I have felt a subtle change.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I really need this to be a faithful account of the entire situation from start to finish, so I have to try to work out how it all began, even if I’m not sure when.
If I cast my mind back, it floats like a lantern through a city cloaked in fog. I must try to isolate the shadowy figures that flit up at me out of the murk. So, let’s begin with the friend I remember first. I was cooking my evening meal. My mind wandered. I remember feeling sad. And there she stood, at my right elbow, peering into the saucepan.
“Watch you don’t burn that,” she said.
I don’t have names for my imaginary friends, just titles, so I call her Kitchen Girl. She’s dark-haired with porcelain skin, and she’s tall and voluptuous. The sort of woman I’d like to be except I’m small with red hair and a ruddy complexion, and I need chicken fillets to convince people I’m female.
I suppose Kitchen Girl is rather daunting, with those fierce blue eyes and no-nonsense approach to everything. I can stand up to her though. I use humour as my weapon of choice and she appreciates wit and banter. I’d like it if she didn’t nag so much, if I’m honest (“Use less salt… keep stirring… is that all you’re going to eat?”) but, criticism aside, I know she’ll compliment me on the finished product as it lies uneaten between us on the table. Long conversations back and forth have been played out while the meals go cold on their plates. Fried eggs congeal and go waxen. Ice cream melts into a tepid sludge. Sandwiches curl up with embarrassment to be so spurned. You know how it is when you get gossiping. Someone wants to talk to me and that’s better than food.
And sometimes, it’s curious, but it’s Kitchen Girl who cooks the food and serves it to me like a waitress. She likes to surprise me with new dishes.
I have no idea how this happens.
Nor why she never leaves the kitchen. But I wish she’d do the washing up now and then.
Amazon Buy Links e-Book – Paperback
Born in Stafford in the UK, Carol Browne was raised in Crewe, Cheshire, which she thinks of as her home town. Interested in reading and writing at an early age, Carol pursued her passions at Nottingham University and was awarded an honours degree in English Language and Literature. Now living and working in the Cambridgeshire countryside, Carol writes both fiction and non-fiction.
Stay connected with Carol on her website and blog, Facebook, and Twitter.
November 18, 2019
Tell Again Tuesday Do Ads on Facebook help?
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
How my Facebook ad to gain newsletter subscribers went
By D.E, Haggerty
A few weeks ago I wrote about how to attract newsletter subscribers without giving a free book away. (You can read the blog here) As About Face is releasing tomorrow, I thought today would be a good day to discuss the results of my attempt to gain newsletter subscribers by giving readers a free sample of the first few chapters of the novel.
What did I do?
I ran a Facebook ad, which sent readers to a BookFunnel landing page where they could get a free sample of About Face in return for joining my newsletter.
How did it go? . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 14, 2019
Friday Feature Recipe Chocolate Pecan Cheesecake by Gina Briganti
Guest shares
A recipe for a healthy dessert
by
Gina Briganti
C.D. Hersh invited me to their virtual kitchen today to share a clean, healthy dessert. Are you expecting twigs covered in carob? I won’t say I haven’t had yummy carob desserts, but I have serious chocolate on my mind.
Do you think you aren’t allowed to have chocolate pecan cheesecake? Not. True. You can have these. They’re also gluten-free.
One way you stay in balance while eating this treat is that they are decadent and you likely will not eat more than two.
Chocolate Pecan Cheesecake Popper
½ cup organic cream cheese, softened
2 tbsp. organic unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tbsp. organic raw pecans, ground, and another tbsp. for sprinkling on top
Mix all but the final tablespoon of pecans together (by hand works fine) in a mixing bowl until the cream cheese and cocoa powder are smooth and creamy.
Put the mixture in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.
Sprinkle your hands with water, then shape ½ tbsp. of the mixture at a time into balls.
Garnish with the ground pecans you held in reserve.
Keep refrigerated until party time.
Easy, creamy, deep chocolate flavor. That’s what I call holistic!
Here’s a peek into my fantasy romance where dreams and psychic connections become reality. This is the first book in the series. I hope you enjoy it.
Single mom Dana Carapelli wakes up in a parallel world called the Dreaming for the first time the night before she meets a handsome rancher. Soon after she wakes into the Dreaming again and finds that she is on his ranch. He knows all about the Dreaming because he wakes up there every time he falls asleep. When he tests their telepathy link she passes, plunging her into a psychic link with him. He admits that he has been promised a perfect partner for him and his teenage son, but doesn’t know if it’s her. Family and friends caution her to take it slow and that’s without her telling them what she knows will make them sound crazy. Joe is everything her dead husband wasn’t. What if it’s her turn to be happy? What if it’s real?
Start the journey into this fantasy romance today!
Amazon Buy Links
E-book – Paperback
Gina Briganti is an RWA member who writes fantasy and sci-fi romance in north Texas.
She also writes holistic health non-fiction because real life can be magic, too. Her credentials in holistic health include certification as a Reiki Master Practitioner and teacher, certification as a nutrition consultant, and a degree in holistic nutrition.
When she’s not writing, eating delicious healthy food, reading (follow her on Goodreads to see the massive variety she finds appealing) or making videos, she is spending time with family and friends. Her constant companion is a special soul who masquerades as a dog.
Visit her website and blog for book trailers, newsletter sign up, for exclusives and announcements that are shared only in her newsletter.
Stay connected on Facebook, Gina’s Amazon Author Page, YouTube, Pinterest, and Instagram.
November 12, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight Eris Field
November 11, 2019
Tell Again Tuesday People Don’t Understand #Writers #Creatives
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Why There Will Always Be People Who Don’t Understand Your Creative Live
By Lucy Mitchell
This can be a tough one to accept.
If you are a creative person there will always be people in your life who will never: . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 7, 2019
Friday Feature Apples multi-uses @EmmaJLane
Guest talks about
Apples, ways to use them
by
Emma Lane
Photo by Fidel Fernando on Unsplash
Such a gorgeous fruit. Fruit bowl on the dining room table lends a nice fragrance to the room; apple bobbing and caramel apples are for Halloween. Did you mom ever make fresh apple sauce? Nothing like the stuff they sell in the grocery store, is it? At my little Herbtique Shoppe here in Western NY, we sell Gourmet Chunky Rum Apple Sauce. The recipe is a state secret, but here are some hints to make the most of this delicious fruit.
Select both soft and firm apples, ie Courtland is soft, Greenings are firm. One will cook down first leaving the other ‘chunky’. Stir frequently. Burned apples are not delicious and the soft ones cook rapidly.
To peel or not to peel: We leave the peel on at home. Commercially we don’t. Both are good. Taste before you add sugar. Most times it isn’t necessary.
Blend flavors: Buy as many different kinds of apples as you can. Not only is this tasty, but it’s way fun as well. As you peel, take a bite now and then to compare flavors.
Flavorings: You are probably familiar with cinnamon to taste. A very small dash of nutmeg and cloves is good too. Vanilla is a winner. One cap and then taste. Other flavorings are great too-here is a good place to experiment. Let your eye roam over the choices at the grocery store. My son swears root beer would be great; he could be right. Be careful with maple syrup; it gets too sweet fast.
Baked apples are wonderful when you use a touch of flavoring with your brown sugar—vanilla is one of my favorites but you might find others.
Regarding the RUM: If you are making apple sauce, add at the last minute with whatever flavoring you have chosen. It gives it a sort of butter taste. I am about to experiment with BRANDY. You might try it too.
A neighbor just hinted to me that apple added to salsa is good. Can’t wait to try.
Canning apple sauce takes expert knowledge. Please do not try it if you haven’t done quite a bit of reading. PH is a biggie. We use lemon juice and a ph meter.
Enjoy the apple harvest. There are so many ways and I didn’t even mention: apple pie, apples and cheese, cocktail apples, home dried apples, apple pan dowdy, apple crumb cake, apple butter, etc, etc. Dried apples and apple pie are delicious any time.
After you’ve mulled over all the apple opportunities may I suggest a peek into one of my Regency releases?
Can an arrogant duke overcome his prejudice against a beautiful but managing female in time to find true love and happiness?
Miss Amabel Hawkins acknowledges her unusual upbringing, but she thinks James Langley, the Duke of Westerton, might be a tad unbalanced when he protests her efforts to right his badly managed properties. The duke, who has been away on the king’s business, demonstrates no respect for the beautiful but managing Miss Hawkins. Amabel has taken refuge at Westerton, fleeing from a forced marriage to a man who claims to be her relative in order to gain control of her young brother’s estate.
The Duke arrives home to find his estate under the firm control of a beautiful but managing female. His suspicions are fueled by his recent task of spy-hunting and he wonders if Amabel Hawkins is just who she seems. While a dastardly spy lurks, a wicked man poses as her cousin threatening to take over the guardianship of her young brother. Amabel might be falling in love, but she knows for certain the duke would never approve of a meddlesome woman, and she decides to flee his estate. Will the duke finally realize the true value of the woman he loves or will his prejudice ruin his chances forever?
EXCERPT
Fatigue and the effects of the brandy on top of the ale now gave his gait a distinct wobble. He chuckled, amused at his condition.
As he reached for the portrait of great Uncle Barney, he lurched into the back of the red leather sofa in front of the cosy fire. “Deuce take it,” he exclaimed when a rounded arm rolled into view. He spotted the gentle curve of a hip and walked around to the front, where he spied a tumbled haze of dark curls hiding a face. It is indeed a female—a sleeping female.
Who was she? The gown was too rich for his household staff. Curious, he knelt beside the sofa.
“Only one way to find out,” he whispered and moved one dark curl. He sat back, satisfied when a handsome face swam into view. She sighed and rolled over, revealing a generous figure and a pair of rosy lips. She might be Sleeping Beauty—but not one of my relatives. He leaned over and kissed those tempting lips.
As he lingered there, she sighed and came partially awake. He could not resist. He deepened the kiss and sounds of satisfaction like yum and umm came from those delicious lips. Her hand stroked his face, then reached around his head to pull him closer. Delighted with this turn of events, the Duke of Westerton complied enthusiastically and extended an arm around a slender waist. How much of the ale and brandy had he imbibed? Dizziness overcame his senses as he slid down on the floor and knew no more.
Amazon Buy Link
Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes under several pen-names. She lives with her patient husband on several acres outside a typical American village in Western New York. Her day job is working with flowers at her son’s plant nursery. Look for information about writing and plants on her new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma’s face.
