​My great-grandparents were born and raised in Bejas, Spain. Unfortunately, Spain was in the midst of a civil war when they were marrying age and rather than fight, my great-grandfather decided to move to Mexico. But Mexico was also in the throes of civil war, so they then moved to America. They married in Cuba and took a boat over to Louisiana in order to get to Texas directly after. They had hopes to have a nice honeymoon, and they did, but it was put on hold for a day when the train stopped in Baton Rogue. It wasn’t supposed to stop. But it was New Years, and those Cajuns do love a party. Everybody got off the train to celebrate, except my sweet and quiet and very shy great-grandparents. They had to spend their first night as husband and wife on the train. They always loved that story and were quite tickled by the fun everyone had. This story, or a version of it, ended up in Destiny’s Secrets. I’ve always loved the tale and was lucky I got to include it.

​Andrew and Ben Lonnigan, brothers and private investigators, have accepted an important case—to reunite the long-lost DuBois daughters with their rightful inheritance. Abducted from their childhood home in New Orleans when they were three and two-years-old, Jo and Charlotte were adopted by separate families.
 
Andrew heads north to find Josephine Tatum—a pants-wearing, spitfire veterinarian who challenges his mind and captures his heart. Ben travels south to find Charlotte Ryan—the financial mind behind her father’s ranch, with a sweet disposition and, unfortunately, a fiancé.
 
As the sisters journey toward destiny, Charlotte must guard her heart against Ben, a man too daring to ever return her love. And Andrew must hide his feelings from Jo, a woman determined to carve her own path. While the foursome battle feelings, they must also war with a villain from the sisters’ past, one with the will and the means to destroy everything the DuBois daughters hold dear.

​Buy Link:
https://amzn.to/2RJmwB4

​The moonlight shining through the window above the sink bathed the dark room in a silver glow. He wished he’d brought a lantern in order to better see her face. Quiet settled around them, and he cleared his throat. “Did…Did you have a good time?”
“Yes.” She leaned against the counter, putting several feet of space between them.
“You weren’t scared?”
“I was.”
His mouth tipped up at the corners. “But you went anyway?”
“Yes.”
He tried to imagine her sitting in a saloon and couldn’t wrap his mind around it. “What’d you do?”
She pushed her hands behind her back. “Played cards.”
“Poker?”
“Yes. The owner found us spots, and we used some of Jo’s money. I only played two hands because I wasn’t comfortable betting.” She waited a beat. “That’s not a game someone should learn while using someone else’s coins.”
He had no reply and ached to move closer to her. He wished he could gather her in his arms. The last several hours had been pure torture, and his pulse raced at finally being in the same room with her.
“I also drank some whiskey.”
Her statement had him gaping. “Really?”
She didn’t expand and asked a question of her own. “Is this what you wanted to speak to me about?”
“No, I…” How in the hell did he begin? Why bring this up when she so obviously wanted to avoid it? But he couldn’t handle a chasm in their friendship. Even though he might not see her after Tuesday, he had to fix the tension between them.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” she blurted. “I shouldn’t have done it, especially without asking for permission.”
Permission? Her sweetness punched him in the gut. Before he could respond, she went on.
“I have feelings for you, Ben. Strong ones. I didn’t want you to know because I’m very aware I’m not a lady you’d ever be interested in, but I don’t want to hide my regard anymore.” She pushed away from the counter. “I love you.”
His breath caught at her honesty. Her courage.
“You’re probably confused because I was engaged only a short time ago, but…” She shook her head. “I didn’t love him. Not like I should have. I agreed to marry him to give my family some happiness after the death of my mother.”
Her words came with authority, shocking him into further silence.
“You came into my life, and you dazzled me. You’re so kind,” she said with reverence. “So caring. So…handsome. I’m glad I met you. I don’t regret losing my heart to you, but it’s going to take some work to get it back, and I need your help with that.”
What did she want of him?
“I need space. Distance.” She took a moment. “I’d appreciate it if we just said goodbye now.”
Already? Rebellion reared its head like a fire-breathing dragon.
When she said no more, he realized she waited for his agreement. How could he give her what she wanted?
But why would he hesitate? Her request should be easy to grant. He understood it. Respected it.
“Ben?” she prodded.
“Yes,” he rasped.
“Yes? You’ll honor what I’m asking?”
The hopeful, grateful note in her tone was like a knife to his heart. “Of course.”
Even in the darkness, he easily detected the slump of her shoulders. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t respond. It was impossible.
She shuffled forward a few steps, and he sensed her looking at him expectantly.
“So,” he uttered. “This is goodbye, then.”
“Yes.”
He heard her heartache, the tears she tried hard to hold back. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t lose her already.
“Goodbye,” she said softly, her voice breaking.
He swallowed. “Goodbye.”
One second more, then she swept past him, and he quaked with the force it took to keep from yanking her into his arms. He didn’t turn as she walked out of his life.

Born and raised in Texas, the state had to be the setting for my first series. From the food to the fun, like floating the rivers, it is the fire in my blood that inspires me. My family and friends take center stage in my books. My sisters and best friends are my heroines, and my husband created my favorite hero. Love and family are the point of my stories, and I seek to entertain, relieve stress, and inspire people. Books can take one on a journey that one can relive over and over. I am extremely grateful to those authors who did that very thing for me. I learned and I fell in love with their words and characters. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Please visit me at www.karaoneal.com.
 
Links, etc:
My website: www.karaoneal.com.
My facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/KaraONeal84/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/karaoneal7/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Kara-ONeal/e/B00FL19TH8/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1465007993&sr=8-1
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/kara+o'neal?_requestid=845025
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7278350.Kara_O_Neal
​Twitter: https://twitter.com/KaraONealAuthor 

​Q.  Why do you write romance?
 
Because I am fascinated by the games people play to find and secure a lasting relationship, which is not always love. There’s the chase, the courtship, the falling, the surrender. That’s what I try to capture in my stories.
 
Q.  Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero?
 
I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, I also love strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love.
 
Q.  Why did you write “Infamy?”
 
The characters featured in this story—Sheikh Harun Ali and his wife, Marianne Benson--are both lawyers who focus on international law and their practice is devoted to compensating the victims of terrorism. So I was looking for a new hook, something on the horizon that could pose a serious threat to the world and in particular, the United States. I found it in an article on advances in “cloaking” technology or making planes disappear. For years, we have had stealth planes that do not appear on radar, but can be seen in the air if anyone is looking. I wanted to take that a step further: What if someone created a means to actually cloak a plane and hide it from everyone’s view? What if that technology fell into the hands of terrorists? And “Infamy” was born.
 
Q.   How does your former profession as a lawyer impact your writing?
 
After 30 years, the law and the legal world are so firmly embedded in my brain that I can’t flush them out. That has become the lens through which I view the world and that naturally guides my characters and plots. Little peculiarities that I have witnessed in lawyers and the law always work their way into my stories.
 
Q.   Any plans to write outside the romance genre completely?
 
Actually, I ghostwrite non-fiction for other professionals—doctors, lawyers, financial gurus—so I dip my toes into a lot of different genres. However, I have been itching to write a book about a relative who founded a religious cult. I researched it for years and found a lot of information that had been buried. I have a pile of paper a foot high. Someday, I need to go through it carefully and start writing. I have the interest, just not the time.

​Infamy. An evil or wicked act. Terrorists bent on revenge have found a way to make planes disappear from the sky, without a trace. And when one winds up buried in a Wisconsin cornfield, it’s a race against time to rescue the passengers from certain death.
 
When international law attorney Sheikh Harun Ali is lured to the Amazon and warned of a frightening plot against the United States, he and his wife, Marianne Benson, enlist the assistance of their neighbors, covert agent Cade Matthews and his wife, Constitutional Law Professor Janet MacLachlan. Ultimately, these feisty lawyers are pushed to the wall, desperate to find a plane that has been buried in an unknown cornfield, the passengers still on board. The terrorists’ hatred for the Alis is absolute—the Alis once left their organization bankrupt and broken—but they hate America more. And their fiendish games are just beginning. They are seeking a much bigger prize, one that could destroy a nation and possibly the world. An act that will live in infamy.
 
Excerpt:
Cade grasped his water bottle with both hands. “Before his brother died, he said eight words.”
Harun nodded. “They are going to make American planes disappear.”
Dianna’s eyes grew wide.
Anders rubbed a hand over his face, then through his long dark hair. His deep green eyes stared up at the ceiling of the plane. “Fucking hell. Nine-eleven all over again.”
“That is our fear,” Harun said. “However, so many precautionary measures are in place in this country, simply hijacking planes and flying them into buildings is no longer easy. They must have a different plan.”
Cade emitted a heavy sigh. “And that is what we need to figure out. What exactly do those eight words mean? For example, he did not specify that the planes would disappear in America, which could mean that they will disappear abroad or over oceans.”
Anders sat up straight. “And disappear could mean many things. Crash. Hijack. Pull a Malaysia. How many ways can you make a plane disappear?”
 
Buy links:
 
Publisher: http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2291-2-infamy/
Amazon:  coming soon
      Smashwords: coming soon
 
Barnes and Noble: coming soon
 
About Seelie Kay:
 
Seelie Kay is a nom de plume for a writer, editor, and author with more than 30 years of experience in law, journalism, marketing, and public relations. When she writes about love and lust in the legal world, something kinky is bound to happen!  In possession of a wicked pen and an overly inquisitive mind, Ms. Kay is the author of multiple works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, the Feisty Lawyers series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, and The President’s Daughter.
 
When not spinning her kinky tales, Ms. Kay ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. She resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
 
Ms. Kay is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS:  Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
 
Author links:
 
www.seeliekay.com
www.seeliekay.blogspot.com
Twitter: @SeelieKay https://twitter.com/SeelieKay
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/seelie.kay.77
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Seelie-Kay/e/B074RDRWNZ/
 
Prior Books:
 
http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs/
http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-too/
http://www.extasybooks.com/kinky-briefs-thrice/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1734-5-kinky-briefs-quatro/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2023-9-kinky-briefs-cinque/
http://www.extasybooks.com/the-garage-dweller/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1504-4-a-touchdown-to-remember/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1795-6-the-presidents-wife/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2263-9-snatching-diana/
http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2032-1-the-presidents-daughter
Coming soon:
 
Cult (Part Three, Feisty Lawyers): TBD
Seizing Hope (Divorce Divas anthology): TBD

​Everyone borrows a pen then walks away with it inadvertently. At my job I had to return pens and pencils to the church secretary's desk so often I started wondering if I had Velcro fingertips. Worse yet, I was the minister. Having a rep for being the sticky-fingered pastor doesn't inspire trust. One Friday I had helped put together the bulletin for the Sunday service. Finished, I was saying goodbye to the other volunteers when one of them couldn’t find his glasses. We were all puzzled because he hadn’t left the room and hadn’t moved far from his seat. He checked his pockets while we rifled through the batches of bulletins, checked the floor, moved papers off the secretary’s desk, even looked behind the Xerox machine. We were all puzzled. What could have happened to them? All of sudden he pointed to me and started laughing. I looked in a mirror on the wall behind me and burst out laughing too. I had picked up his glasses and was wearing them! Sticky fingers Sweringen strikes again.
 
I’ve never used this incident in a story, but it would make a funny meet-cute one day.

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Caesar King's ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society's traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave's offer and heads West for marriage on her terms. Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit makes it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender? 

Excerpt:
Caesar looked at Queen. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. She gasped then swallowed hard, unnerved by the sight. Her lips trembled.
Reverend Warren smiled at Queen then addressed Caesar. “You may kiss the bride.”
Kiss? Queen flinched. There’d be no kissing in this marriage. She’d promised to be his wife for two years with sex provided at agreed upon intervals. At the end of two years that requirement would end and she’d be free to live as she chose. She could go anywhere she pleased, especially with the respectability of missus before her name and Caesar’s promised severance. No. This coupling made them business partners. Business partners did not kiss.
She extended her hand to seal their arrangement. He returned the handshake but instead of releasing her, his too rough fingers imprisoned hers and pulled her to him. With his other hand he captured the back of her head and secured her mouth to his.
A squeal of surprise parted her lips. His thick tongue swept into the shelter of her mouth. The assault ambushed her with pleasure and vanquished her resistance.
Her hands rose, as if of their own volition, and pressed against his chest. The firm muscle beneath his shirt coaxed her hands to linger, to explore—however discretely—the muscle beneath her palms and fingertips.
Caesar broke off the kiss.
The embrace didn’t last more than a few seconds, but Queen swayed, robbed of reason and resentment.
Reverend Warren handed Caesar the marriage certificate and shook his hand. Queen stood, mouth gaping, startled by the confusion roiling through her mind, amazed by the moisture roiling in her sex.
With a simple kiss, this bull of a man had exhumed the sexual hunger she’d thought buried.
“Thanks for being available, Pastor.” Caesar shook the minister’s hand. “Mother Maybelle.” He hugged and kissed the older woman. Again, their affection stirred an unexpected sympathy in Queen’s chest. She sucked in a breath to dispel it.
He gripped Queen by the upper arm and hauled her back to the wagon.
 “What’s the rush?” she asked.
He hoisted her up to the seat by her waist before she could object. She swallowed the gasp elicited by the press of possession in his grasp.
“Daylight’s burning,” he stated. “Don’t want to be caught out after dark.”
Queen eyed his lips, their fullness still remembered against her mouth. She shifted several times but found no relief from the pressure pulsing along her labia. Good Lord, how was she to make sense of so strong a physical reaction to this stranger? Had celibacy left her defenseless against physical contact from anyone?
Or was this physical attraction genuine?  
Buy links:
Amazon -  https://amzn.to/2JyLKu1
Wild Rose Press -  http://bit.ly/2DHdb0x