Please welcome Stephanie Berget to my blog today with her book, Silver Dreams On A Tin Can Budget. Let's hear about Toughie, the family goat!
We are a rodeo family. If you’re a rodeo family and have girls, you are going to have goats. Each spring, my husband would go to the cow sale and buy a goat or two for my daughter and her friends to practice goat tying. One year, several friends asked him to get one for them. He came home with eight goats, seven sweet little ones and a Pygmy billy goat of indeterminate age.
I’ll give you one guess which goat we ended up with.
Toughie was a pain from the moment he became ours. He climbed on cars and haystacks, ate the neighbor’s flowers, and stood in the middle of the road and dared cars to make him move. Butting anyone who got close enough was his favorite pastime. He could chew through any rope we used to tie him up in ten seconds flat. After resorting to a light chain, we made him a home beneath the big cottonwood tree out the back door. Even then, he couldn’t keep himself out of trouble.
One day, I was feeding him and watched as he walked to the garage, stood on his hind legs and peered in the window. Then, he reared back and butted the glass, shattering it.
He apparently saw himself in the reflection and wanted to show that other goat who was boss.
Despite that, he lived with us for many years.
I haven’t written a goat into any of my books yet, but the sequel to Silver Dreams will feature Toughie
What a little troublemaker! LOL. He could probably get his own book!
Let's find out about Silver Dreams On A Tin Can Budget....
She’s found her dream… He’s losing his…
Reed is desperate to save the family ranch and can’t afford to be distracted by a fun-loving blonde who delights in making him laugh. But Catie is determined to leave tragedy behind her and reach for her dreams—no matter what. Working with silver and gemstones calls to her creative soul, and so does the quiet cowboy with a lot on his mind.
Can love bridge the gap between their two worlds?
Join Reed and Catie in this “opposites attract” cowboy romance where city meets country and sparks fly.
Come Visit Copper Mills, Arizona--a small town with a heart as big as the wide-open spaces and a long history of making dreams come true.
Reed watched as Catie’s eyes went wide. Softer looking than her twin, but alike in every other way. His heartbeat picked up, and he almost reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. McCoy?”
Her voice changed from determined to that of a giggly high school girl in a scant second, and she batted her lashes fast enough to take flight.
He studied her for a moment longer. How could two women look exactly alike and give off such different vibes?
From what he’d seen of Eleanor so far, she was self-sufficient and studious, calm and contemplative. Totally focused on her new business. From what he’d heard, she succeeded in anything she undertook.
Catie appeared to be a little girl lost. The corners of her full, pink lips quivered as he stared, and he pulled himself from his musings. If she giggled one more time, he was out of here.
There was nothing about this woman that was what he was looking for. Catie was not the woman for him. There was no way he was going to be a caretaker to another person as long as he lived.
“Never mind. I’ll talk to Eleanor later. Good luck with those beads.” Now, why in the hell did he say that? Keeping his eyes on anything but Catie’s pretty face, he turned and walked out the door. Once in his truck, relief covered him like a blanket.
Too bad it was immediately replaced by disappointment.
Eleanor Kershner was the type of woman he’d always been attracted to, but when he closed his eyes, it was Catie he saw. Catie’s sweet expression. Catie’s tempting body. Catie’s wicked grin. After talking to her today, he couldn’t imagine why people couldn’t tell them apart.
He slapped his palms against the steering wheel. It must be the stress of worrying about the ranch that was messing with his mind.
A movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see Eleanor striding down the wooden walkway the town had restored in front of the shops in the original part of town. It didn’t take a genius to know which twin was walking toward him. Eleanor’s no nonsense walk ate up the distance from her car to the antique store. So different from the fluid way Catie moved.
There his traitorous mind went again.
It was time for him to find a wife and start a family, and Catie wasn’t right for either position. That would be Eleanor.
Eleanor would have the business sense to help him regain ownership of the family ranch his father had pissed away. And the confidence to not be needy.
Babysitting dear old Dad, when the man finally gave up any pretense of work, had drained Reed.
Eleanor’s smile was so small he wasn’t sure her lips had moved after all. It occurred to him that he’d never seen her smile. He hadn’t seen her show much expression at all as opposed to Catie whose thoughts played across her face in Technicolor.
Just as he reached Eleanor, Catie came through the door of the Turquoise Moon. “Ellie, did you get the mail? Did my package come?”
Reed shook his head. She was like a kid at Christmas.
He stepped in between the sisters and faced Eleanor. It was a boorish move, but he didn’t have time to wait around while Catie got whatever bright bauble she’d ordered. “Do you have a minute?”
He felt a soft tap on his shoulder and heard the whispered word. “Jerk!” When he turned to answer, he found Catie wearing the same smile she’d had in the shop, bright and sappy.
He suspected it was the one she bestowed on her few customers and on jerks. To give her credit, he had been rude, but still… “Excuse me?”
“Oh.” She giggled after the word, but there was no humor in her gaze. “You are definitely excused. Now, Eleanor, if you’ll hand me my order, I’ll leave you to take care of Mr. McCoy all alone. He has something really important to discuss, and he’s made it clear it would be over my silly little head.”
Uh oh. I can feel the conflict coming..... This sounds like a great read.
Let's find out a little bit about Stephanie Berget.
Stephanie Berget was born loving horses, a ranch kid trapped in a city girl’s body. It took her twelve years to convince her parents she needed a horse of her own. She developed a lifelong love of rodeo when she married her own, hot cowboy. She and the Bronc Rider traveled throughout the Northwest while she ran barrels and her cowboy rode bucking horses. She started writing to put a realistic view of rodeo and ranching into western romance. Stephanie and her husband live on a farm located along the Oregon/Idaho border. They raise hay, horses and cattle, with the help of Dizzy Dottie, the Border Collie and Cisco, barrel and team roping horse extraordinaire.
Stephanie is delighted to hear from readers. Reach her at http://www.stephanieberget.com
Amazon: Stephanie Berget
Thank you, Stephanie, for dropping by. I hope you have great success with your book.
If you're a visitor, please leave us a comment and let us know you've dropped by. We love to hear from our readers!
Please welcome back Beverley Oakley as she tours the circuit with her new release, Keeping Faith. Let's find out about the book.
Fair Cyprians of London Series (Book 3)
By Beverley Oakley
Beverley has a print copy of Her Gilded Prison to giveaway during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may enter every day for your chance to win a print copy of Her Gilded Prison. You may find the tour locations here.
About Keeping Faith:"My beautiful Revenge." Four years ago, Faith’s mysterious benefactress falsely accused her of stealing and deposited her in Madame Chambon’s exclusive brothel. There, Faith was to learn how to entrance London’s noble gentlemen with her learning in philosophy, politics and art. Her body was to be saved for the greatest enticement of all: revenge. Faith doesn’t care what she has to do. She lives only to fulfil a bargain that will set her free. But when Faith is recruited as the muse of a talented, sensitive painter whose victory in a prestigious art competition turns them both into celebrities overnight, she discovers the reasons behind her mission are very different from what she'd been led to believe. Now she is complicit in something dark and dangerous while riches, adulation and freedom are hers for the taking. But what value are these if her heart has become a slave to the man she is required to destroy? Genre - historical romantic suspense Heat Level - Medium Keep Faith Buy Links: https://www.books2read.com/u/bP5pGY Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2Dg70UP
Excerpt:Chapter One “What did you learn last night?” “A gentleman must always believe he knows best.” Confident that her answer was pleasing, Faith reached across the table to help herself to a macaroon but a sharp slap across the back of the hand stopped her progress by the silver teapot. Her smile of feigned contrition was rewarded with a raised eyebrow from Madame Chambon. Not an invitation to partake of a macaroon, unfortunately. The table laden with eclairs and petit fours in Madame’s private sitting room was merely for show. “Greedy girl, Faith! You can eat at the Dorchester tomorrow and I daresay you won’t even spare a thought for the other girls who are justified in being somewhat jealous of your cossetted life.” Madame sniffed as she patted one of the grizzled, orange curls of her elaborate coiffure. Faith suspected a squirrel’s pelt had made its contribution. “I’m sure they wonder every day why you never have to stir yourself – or anyone else, for that matter – to get your fine clothes or a roof over your head.” Madame Chambon piled three macaroons onto her already laden plate before making a sweeping gesture that encompassed the furnishings of her surprisingly decorous private sitting room with its gold tasseled green velvet curtains and flock wallpaper. “What have you told them, Faith? About why you are here, I mean?” Faith’s stomach rumbled as she gazed from the prints of the famous artists that lined the walls to the fine fare in front of her, ordered from Fortnum and Mason. These monthly sessions in table manners were supposed to give Faith the practice she needed to deport herself like a lady when eating in public. However, under Madame’s guardianship, Faith never actually got to try the specialties. “Answer me, Faith. In all the three years that you’ve been here, you’ve had to do precisely nothing to justify your existence. Surely the girls have questioned you? I have my own version of the truth for them, as you know, but I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.” Faith didn’t answer. She already knew how lucky she was, but Madame was not ready to drop the subject, despite having just crammed an entire chocolate éclair into her mouth. Faith just managed to make out the muffled words, “Every night you lie peacefully in your bed while the other girls have to earn their livings.” Lying peacefully in her bed was not how Faith would describe the restfulness of her slumber. She was kept awake every night by the grunts and cries of ecstasy that penetrated the thin walls of her attic chamber. Still, she’d finally learned when it was wise to respond meekly, so she bowed her head and stared at her neat kid gloves while dreaming of the delicacies Mrs. Gedge would order for them when Faith really was dining with her at the Dorchester Hotel the following afternoon. The Sacher Torte Mrs. Gedge had ummed and aahed over before finally choosing the baked Alaska from the sweets trolley last month still haunted her. However, since part of Faith’s tutoring included how to win over reluctant gentleman ‘and make them wild with wanting’ which is how Madame phrased it, then surely Faith could persuade her American benefactress to order the Austrian chocolate specialty? She was so busy rehearsing her words for tomorrow that she almost missed Madame’s prophetic and appalling statement. “Well, Faith, the time has come for you to start earning your way, now.” Faith brought her head up in shock. Was Madame teasing? When it appeared not, she gripped the table edge as she struggled for composure. For so long she’d known the reckoning would come. Yes, and with three years preparing for it, she’d believed she could meet it head-on with the necessary fortitude. But there’d been no warning. She began to shake, biting into her bottom lip and clasping her hands in her lap to try and keep secret the manifestations of her terror from Madame who’d only be spurred onto gloating and make her suffer even more. “Mrs. Gedge reported last month that she wasn’t entirely happy you were ready for what she has in store for you when she took you to tea, Faith.” Madame chewed noisily, unperturbed, it seemed, by the crumbs that landed on her gaudy vermillion skirts. Faith didn’t suggest that Mrs. Gedge’s dissatisfaction was perhaps the fault of Faith’s tutor – the one sitting in front of her - who knew nothing about deporting herself as a lady. With a dainty gesture using only her forefingers, Madame Chambon raised her plate and licked at the crumbs that had not been dislodged before saying, “Fortunately, Lady Vernon is recovered at last from her long indisposition and has agreed to forget your rudeness to her from six months ago. In fact, she’ll be here shortly. Yes, she’ll soon have you passing the scrutiny of the most discerning duchess.” Madame gobbled down another macaroon with as much finesse as the dogs Faith’s father used to goad into fighting each other after they’d fought over the scraps from the scrubbed wooden table at the farm. Not that there’d been many scraps with ten children to feed. “Should we not have waited for Lady Vernon?” Faith suggested, daringly. But she had to say something to stop herself from launching into a volley of querulous questions about exactly what form this ‘having to earn her own way’ might take. Madame Chambon pushed aside an untouched plate of bread and butter to reach for another chocolate éclair and sighed. “There was just so much food on the table it seemed unnecessary to wait if her ladyship was going to be late. Ah! And here she is.” Madame’s orange painted mouth turned up at a knock on the door. “Shoulders back, Faith! And make sure you don’t talk with your mouth full.” Since this was not a danger, Faith supposed there might be some compensation in having to face her former nemesis who surely must subscribe to the belief that learning table manners required one having to eat. Madame threw her arms wide in a welcome as the door opened to admit the new arrival. “Good evening, Lady Vernon. We’re so glad you’ve recovered from your chest ailment,” she gushed. “A good rest has done you the world of good. Why, you look ten years younger. Just as you do every time I see you, in fact. And we’re indeed humbled that you’ve consented to return.” Madame simpered at the elderly woman, dressed all in black who looked, Faith thought, even more wraith-like than usual as she pinned up the veil of her bonnet and took the seat at the table proffered by Madame who went on, “I’m sure you’ll feel even better once you’ve heard Faith’s heartfelt apology.” Faith blushed under the scrutiny of the two pairs of expectant, unforgiving eyes, and glanced longingly at the remaining macaroon. Yes, there were times when it was worth being abject. She mightn’t mean what she said, but if the last three years under Madame Chambon’s roof had taught her one thing, it was how to sound heartfelt and sincere when she felt anything but. “I’m sorry for my rude comments about…” Faith hesitated. Perhaps it was best not to stir up old memories. While it must be perfectly obvious to anyone who met Lady Vernon as to why an earl’s daughter could remain a spinster into her sixtieth year, it hadn’t been in anyone’s interest – Faith’s least of all, it turned out – for Faith to have gone into quite such specific and extensive detail regarding her thoughts on the likely reasons. “I behaved like a child, though it’s such a long time ago, now, I can barely remember what was going through my head at the time. I was only seventeen and, in those days, prone to losing my temper but now I’m eighteen and, thanks to all your efforts in teaching me how to act like a lady, Lady Vernon, I’m so far from the rude and impulsive young thing I was before, you’d not recognize me today. Thanks to your thorough tutelage, I am determined that I will never speak out of turn, to you, or anyone. Indeed, I have changed! I truly believe that, confronted by a table of delicacies like this, for example, I would certainly not embarrass you or Mrs. Gedge or any lovely young man or his mother who might take me out to tea by any show of greediness or lack of restraint.” Lady Vernon’s eyes remained fixed firmly on Faith for the duration of this speech with no indication of how forgiving or otherwise she might prove to be. After a long silence, she spoke. “Restraint?” She sniffed. “Restraint is the most important requirement of any young lady, Faith. I’ve told you this many times, so I’m glad it’s a lesson you claim to have finally learned.” With her eyes fixed on Faith, she reached towards the remaining macaroon that sat lonely on its plate just in front of them both, her long-fingered hand hovering just above. “Please pass that to me, Faith. I can’t seem to reach it.” Wordlessly, Faith complied, schooling her features into impassivity while she railed inside, I hate you! I hate you! as she watched Lady Vernon transport the coconut confection to her thin, bloodless lips. “Delicious,” Lady Vernon murmured. “In fact, I believe it is the best macaroon I have ever tasted? You must surely agree, Faith, since the plate is now empty.” She looked pointedly at the two remaining crumbs that clung to the edge of the fine china, as if to imply that Faith had eaten the rest. Then she indicated the plate of bread and butter near Madame Chambon. “Please eat, Faith. Madame Chambon and I have a leisurely afternoon at our disposal. She and I will partake of the remaining chocolate eclairs --” Her pointed chin wobbled slightly, whether from the suppression of mirth or the swallowing of bile, Faith could only guess, “while you make good work of the bread and butter with all the ladylike restraint you’re so anxious to prove.” Other Books in the Series: Saving Grace Amazon Buy Link: https://amzn.to/2z7rVGx Forsaking Hope Amazon Buy Link: https://amzn.to/2DlzV9M Beverley Oakley’s Bio: Debutantes, widows and the occasional courtesan test society’s boundaries in Beverley Oakley’s wicked, passionate historical romances dripping with scandal, intrigue, and suspense. Her Fair Cyprians of London series is about a group of determined and clever courtesans at a high-class Soho brothel who use their wit and beauty to avenge past betrayals - and who find lasting love along the way. How can there be a happily ever after? is a question many a reviewer has asked before admitting to being delighted and satisfied by the unexpected plot twists and surprise endings – just like in Beverley’s own life. You can read more on her website. Beverley's Social Links: Website: http://www.beverleyoakley.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBeverleyOakley/ Pinterest: https://au.pinterest.com/beverleyeikli/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/BeverleyOakley Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/5989577.Beverley_Oakley a Rafflecopter giveaway
The book sounds really delightful, Beverley, I hope you have a lot of great success with it.
If you are visiting, please leave us a comment to let us know you've stopped by. We love to hear from our readers.
Please welcome back Madison Michael with her release Moonlight & Moet on my blog today.
Moonlight & Moet
B&B Billionaire Romance Series (Book 2)
By Madison Michael Madison has put together some really awesome Prize Packages to giveaway during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may enter every day for your chance to win one of the prize packages. You may find the tour locations here (https://goo.gl/ESBmdA).
About Moonlight & Moet:
Exhausted and anxious to return home, Leigh wasn’t paying attention as she stepped out the door of the small law office at the end of the row of storefronts. Leigh went down hard on the cement, her skirt flying up, her brochures flying. A shook-up Leigh assessed the damage and caught her breath. Her dignity was beyond repair.
Leigh was brushing the dirt from her palms, scraped from trying to break her fall when a shadow blocked the sun, and a large, dirty hand, attached to a long, strong arm reached down to assist her. Leigh’s gaze followed the flannel covered forearm up over a muscled bicep and continued until her scrutiny was arrested by a pair of coffee-colored eyes surrounded by the deep laugh lines of an outdoorsman. He was staring vast expanse of creamy thigh and more than a hint of her magenta panties. His expression told Leigh that he liked what he saw.
Leigh clumsily scrambled to lower her dress, gather the brochures fluttering in the breeze, and take the proffered hand all at once. Several pamphlets escaped down the sidewalk, but she quickly forgot them as she was lifted like a feather against her mountain’s chest and too swiftly placed gently on her feet. She winced when the blisters made contact with the hard surface beneath them and the lumberjack buried behind a grizzly bear beard reacted.
“Injured, little lady?” he asked with concern. “Let me help you get you to urgent care.
"That won't be necessary," Leigh responded, smoothing her dress to cover her embarrassment and interest.
"Then at least let me help you to your destination.”
“I was just heading to my car, down the ways,” Leigh tried to gesture with the arm the man still held. “But, I’m fine. Really. I can take it from here.”
“Fine, indeed,” Grizzly Adams replied in a sarcastic, deep baritone.
He was tall, covered in a subtle sheen of dirt and sweat, but Leigh quickly realized the shirt under her fingertips was the finest wool and his boots, caked in an inch of dried mud, were Scarpa Phantom 8000's. He was a very wealthy Grizzly Adams, and a dedicated hiker too. Those boots were featured in the mountaineering store up the road for over $1000, way too rich for Leigh’s blood.
He stood still, his smile twitching as caught Leigh checking him out. Then, without warning, he swept her into his arms, carefully adjusted her dress to modestly cover her behind while managing to slide his hand all along them. The man was a pro. Leigh couldn't fault his effort, even as she realized he was copping a feel. Carrying her easily, he began taking long strides in the direction she had pointed.
“This is completely unnecessary,” Leigh repeated more than once, interspersed with “put me down, please” and “Really I can walk.” He ignored them all, speaking right over her repeated and flustered objections.
“You took a nasty fall there. People are always missing that last step." His face was too close and too handsome. He smelled of the outdoors - pine, sweat and sunshine. It was intoxicating.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer I took you over to the doc’s office or the urgent care?”
“Just to my car, thanks,” Leigh requested, done trying to argue with the hard-muscled man. Who was she kidding? It felt incredible to rest against his broad chest, his arms holding her securely and his minty breath blowing on her face. He may have been filthy, a bearded mountain man who was certainly not her type, but he was sexy as hell. Leigh wished her car was miles away. ,
“Will you be ok to drive, Miss…”
“Miss Leigh,” he repeated, caressing her name. “Are you sure you’ll be alright to drive?”
Leigh bobbed her head in the affirmative. She loved resting her head against the power of this man’s chest, secure in his firm grip. Leigh looked up at him from under her eyelashes, admiring what she saw. She could tell that under the caked on mud and scruff, he was handsome, with a cocky smile and those laughing eyes. She wished she could see more.
“This is my car,” she finally motioned. “Thank you, Mr…”
“You’re certain you can drive?” he asked in his slow, smooth drawl, ignoring her question.
“I’m not going far,” Leigh reassured him. “I’ll be fine.”
The mountain man placed Leigh on her feet, holding her by the waist as if waiting for reassurance that she was solidly standing. Leigh looked down as if to assure herself both feet were there and with a deep breath made eye contact. The man was a head taller, broad and powerful, and staring at her as if he wanted to devour her. A hot flush filled Leigh's cheeks, and she extended a hand to shake his.
“Well, thank you again. You certainly turned out to be my knight in shining armor today,” she jested.
“Well, Miss Leigh, then I guess I get my knight’s favor,” the man responded with a devilish grin. Leigh was still registering his warning when he lowered his head to hers and placed his warm lips upon her cooler ones.
Other Books in the B&B Billionaire Romance Series:
Desire & Dessert Amazon Buy Link: https://amzn.to/2Fg1qo5
About the Author:
Madison Michael is an indie publisher, blogger and the author of the Beguiling Bachelor Series as well as the novella Desire & Dessert, from her sizzling B&B Billionaire Bachelor series.a Rafflecopter giveaway
I love a billionaire romance story so I can't wait to get my hands on this book. Thank you Madison, for stopping by with your new book. I hope you have great success.
If you're visiting today, please leave us a comment and let us know you've stopped by. We love to hear from our readers.
Hello all, please help me welcome back Claire Gem, to my blog with her story, Hearts Unloched.
Thank you, Constance Bretes, for inviting me to your blog. The book I’d like talk about today is my first Haunted Voices novel, Hearts Unloched.
Okay, ask me how many times I’ve had to go back and correct the spelling of this novel! Autocorrect just won’t let me spell it “right,” which is, just as you see it, with an “h” and not a “k” in Unloched. My editors, my beta readers, my family members all had to timidly ask: isn’t that word spelled wrong? Except for my eldest son, Justin, because he’s the one who came up with the title.
The book takes place in a tiny burg in upstate New York named after its lake, Loch Sheldrake. The loch is a small but very deep lake and has its own macabre urban legend.
It’s rumored that the Mafia, back in the 1950s, chose Loch Sheldrake as their dumping ground—for bodies of their “hits.”
My husband grew up in the area and told me of the legend years ago. One day as we drove around the lake, the idea hit me: why not put a fictional hotel on the loch’s shores—and of course, make it haunted?
I was struggling to come up with a title that would include the word “loch” in it. My son wandered into my office, plopped down in a chair and said, “Why not Hearts Unloched? And so, Hearts Unloched was born.
Winner of the 2016 NY Book Festival, it’s on sale for a limited time only for .99.
I have to admit that when I was typing in the title above for this blog, I had to check the spelling a couple of times to make sure I had it right. LOL
Tell us a little about the story...
A psychic interior designer reluctantly agrees to renovate a sexy investor’s abandoned hotel on Loch Sheldrake, a lake rumored to have once been the mob’s body dumping ground.
Interior designer Kate Bardach loves her single girl's lifestyle, living in Manhattan and spending weekends at her lake house. She's passionate about her career, too—reinventing old buildings. But there are some projects she can't take on because of the spirits trapped inside. Kate is psychic—she sees dead people.
Marco Lareci is one of Wall Street's most successful investment brokers who's achieved all of his life's goals—except for finding his soulmate. His latest project, an abandoned resort on Loch Sheldrake, needs a savvy designer to transform the crumbling complex into a boutique hotel. When Marco meets Kate, he can't believe his luck. She's the perfect match for his business and his heart.
Marco's body excites Kate even more than does his renovation project. But he wants more than a casual relationship, and she's not willing to give up her freedom. Plus, the haunting at Marco's resort, a bonafide poltergeist, affects her on an intensely personal level. Kate's aunt disappeared from the place fifty years ago.
Will the spirit doom Kate and Marco's love, or drive them closer together?
Links: Hearts Unloched
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/cZOY6VHx-nU
All other digital formats:
Wow, this sounds very mysterious and intriguing. I'll be adding this to my TBR list!
Let's find out more about the author, Claire Gem!
Contemporary, Romantic, Soul-Freeing
Claire is an award winning-author of supernatural suspense, contemporary romance, and women’s fiction. She also writes Author Resource guide books and presents seminars on writing craft and marketing. Her supernatural suspense, Hearts Unloched, won the 2016 New York Book Festival, and was a finalist in the 2017 RONE Awards.
Claire loves exploring the paranormal and holds a certificate in Parapsychology from Duke University’s Rhine Research Center. She earned her MFA in creative writing from Lesley University.
A New York native, Claire now lives in Massachusetts with her husband of 40 years. When she’s not writing, she works for Tufts University in the field of scientific research. She is available for seminars and media interviews and loves to travel for book promotional events.
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2nabvbm
Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCO-vB7WDZhEQ8U4YpC937ng
Thank you so much, Claire, for stopping by and sharing this story with us. I hope you have great success with it.
If you're visiting, please leave us a comment and let us know you've stopped by. We love to hear from our readers!
Snatching Dianna Feisty Lawyers Book 1
By Seelie Kay
Seelie will be giving away some great ebooks for this tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may enter every day for your chance to win one of the prize packages. You may find the tour locations here.
The hours are counting down as investigators try to prove that Dianna Murphy has been snatched. Unfortunately, without witnesses and solid evidence, all the police really know is that she is missing.
When suburban Milwaukee law student Dianna Murphy fails to connect with her roommate, there is no real evidence that she has been snatched. Until Law Professor Janet MacLachlan, a former covert agent, discovers a single clue, one that points to a taking by a slave trafficking cartel. In a race against time, Janet recruits her husband, secret agent Cade Matthews, small-town Police Chief David Manders and his wife, criminal defense attorney Julianna Constant, and other law students to uncover the truth. Can they prove she has been taken, before Dianna disappears without a trace?
Romantic Suspense (Three Flames)
Barnes and Noble: Coming soon
After what seemed like hours in the sweltering van, it lurched to a stop.
Dianna heard a man bark orders. A door to the van opened and someone pulled the rope from her feet, then removed her hood. She took a deep breath. A man grabbed her by the arm, forced to her feet, and pulled from the van. Dianna stumbled when she hit the ground. The stones were hot and her feet were covered by athletic socks, no shoes. Show no weakness.
Dianna immediately surveyed her surroundings. It was still night, but she was in a well-lit courtyard. A large stone mansion stood in front of her. She looked to her right, then her left. The courtyard was enclosed by a large stone fence, at least eight feet high. A fortress. Fortunately, Dianna was a rock-climber. She could rappel over the fence with the right equipment. All she would need was something to serve as a pick, maybe a rope. A knife, a screwdriver, even a fork. Keep your eyes and ears open. Be ready.
A large black man, dressed in a white suit and a maroon turban, walked out of the front door and down the stairs. He stopped and flashed a malevolent smile. He flung his arms wide and in a cultured baritone boomed, âWelcome to paradise, ladies. I hope you enjoy your stay.â
Some of the guards laughed.
âCrikey,â Tillie muttered. âSounds like a blasted genie.â
Dianna glanced sideways and for the first time, got a look at her new friend. She was tall and thin, her body well defined. She looked strong and aware, almost fierce. Her eyes seemed to be studying the place, taking everything in. She showed no fear. Instead, she seemed interested. Something was off. Tillie did not act like a victim as the others did. She was not cowed. Was she a cop? Or like Dianna, someone who would not permit themselves to be broken?
There was only one thing of which Dianna was certain. She had found a friend. A useful one.
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 Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, and The Presidentâs Wife.
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!
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Seelie-Kay/e/B074RDRWNZ/a Rafflecopter giveaway
Please welcome back Laura Haley-McNeil with her book, Imagine The Kiss.
“I touched him!”
Honest, I’m not trying to be dirty, but let me start from the beginning.
Growing up, we had cousins who lived near Hollywood. My cousins were very savvy and always knew which movie sets and television shows needed extras. Often times, when we’d visit, my cousins would be on their way to a set. They knew what we needed to wear, etc., to be included in a scene. We’d be on the set all day, which kept us out of trouble. The production companies paid well and provided fabulous meals.
One time, we went to a set that starred an actor who wasn’t that well known. One of my cousins decided to have some fun. When the actor walked past us, she reached out and touched him, then turned to us and exclaimed, “I touched him.”
He turned and stared at her for several minutes, before walking away. During that time, I think my cousin wished she could melt into the floor. Afterwards, we all laughed hysterically about it. It took a while but eventually my cousin realized the entire incident was funny.
How’s that for an inciting incident for a young adult novel, which I don’t write, but I might!
That's so cute. I bet she did want to melt away. LOL
Tell us about Imagine The Kiss
Imagine the Kiss
Two people open themselves to the truth and open themselves to each other.
Her marriage in ruins, violinist Teagan Whitloch Munroe escapes into her music and the solace she finds at the Crystal Creek Ranch. Practicing in the woods helps her piece together her life, but she isn’t alone. When she hears someone hiking nearby, she demands he reveal himself, but the only revelation she gets is a soothing voice that heals the pain in her heart.
Maimed by a crushing accident, the once famous architect Phineas St. Cyr protects the world from his disfigurement by sequestering himself in the woods on the Crystal Creek Ranch. When he hears the intoxicating strains from Teagan’s violin, he can’t resist the beauty that quiets his aching soul, and he yearns to know the woman who creates such beauty.
Teagan finds sanctuary in her friendship with this connoisseur of music, but soon realizes Phin’s hiding more than his hideous scars. As they become entangled with each other, Teagan is stunned to learn they share more than a love of music. They are caught in a web of deceit by someone threatening to reveal Phin’s secrets. His exposed past endangers Teagan, and he can no longer walk away. This time he must face the enemy determined to defeat him. He’ll fight to the finish to protect the woman he can never love. No price is too high to keep buried the secret that will mark Teagan for destruction.
Teagan Whitloch Munroe was trembling. She was trembling, and she couldn’t stop. She’d been trembling for more than two hours—since she’d left the downtown Denver condominium she shared with her husband, Dr. Wilbert Munroe. What she’d seen inside the condo—in their bedroom—made her want to vomit. A cold knot of disgust and revulsion gripped her stomach.
When she’d walked into the master bedroom, she must’ve gasped. Will was lying on the bed, but he wasn’t alone. He’d lifted his head from the pillow. He looked right at her.
He didn’t look surprised. He looked annoyed.
She’d pressed a hand over her mouth.
Blinded by tears, she’d backed into the doorjamb and stumbled into the hallway. She didn’t remember running out of the condo, but she must have. Her legs throbbed, and her chest ached. The only thing she remembered was her husband calling her name. What had he said? Let’s talk? She didn’t know if she should laugh or sob.
And she remembered the dulcet laughter of the naked woman who was servicing him in bed. Teagan’s and Will’s bed. Teagan had thought Ginny Andrews was her friend.
Some friend. Ginny who was svelte and toned. A contrast to Teagan who’d struggled with her weight since she was seven years old.
A shuddering breath rocked through Teagan’s lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away.
She barely remembered driving to the Crystal Creek Ranch, throwing a saddle on her favorite horse, Champagne, and racing through the meadows until she reached the aspen forest covering Crystal Peak.
Fighting against the despair that filled her, she wrapped shaky fingers around the reins and urged the Arabian horse through the trees bursting with spring green leaves. Her vision blurred, and she tried to focus on the pink wild roses and purple elephant’s head mingling with the green undergrowth. The splashes of Crystal Creek tumbling over rocks sounded next to the trail. It was happy and musical and far from the darkness that crowded her heart. Her stomach roiled and begged to be emptied of the half sandwich she’d eaten during the orchestral rehearsal that afternoon.
She ran her hand over the horse’s neck damp from perspiration.
“How’re you doing, Champagne?” Her voice was husky, and she asked the question again.
The mare snorted. She shook her head. Her mane danced through the air before falling in soft waves about her neck.
“Did I run you too long?” She softened her tone. “I'm sorry. I had to get away. You’re lucky you’re a horse. You don’t have to worry about anyone breaking your heart.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Her insides were shattered. She’d never heal, not after what she’d seen.
Fresh tears filled her eyes. The trees around her blurred. The sunshine pouring over her was warm but couldn’t melt the cold penetrating her chest.
She had thought coming to Crystal Creek would bring her peace.
She’d never find peace. Not when the image of Will pleasured by Ginny burned in her brain.
A branch cracked.
Her nerves jumped.
Fear sprang into her chest.
She looked around but saw no one. Had Will followed her? Was this his plan—talk to her in the middle of the forest? But how would he know she’d driven to Crystal Creek?
He’d know. She always went to the ranch when she needed to think things through or needed to escape the rat race of the city.
Champagne’s ears twisted, but the horse didn’t jerk. Instead, she tilted her head and stared through the trees as if she’d expected the sound.
Teagan turned in the saddle. “Will?”
“Hello?” she called out.
A breeze rustled through the branches. They swayed then stilled.
She peered through the boughs.
“Who are you? Tell me your name. I heard you. I know you’re here. Show yourself.” Her voice sounded thin and strained. She turned Champagne around.
The horse stepped like a ballerina over the flooring of pine needles and aspen leaves.
“Answer me,” she demanded.
“It wasn’t my intention to frighten you.” The voice was deep and rich and sent soothing warmth down her spine.
“I’m not frightened.” A swallow clicked in her throat. “I want to know who you are, and what you’re doing on my stepmother’s ranch. You’re trespassing, you know. Step into the clearing. I want to see you.”
Champagne stepped sideways, and Teagan listed in the saddle. She caught her breath and straightened. She patted the horse’s neck.
“It’s okay, girl.” She looked around. She needed to calm down. The horse was sensing her anxiety.
No one. No one appeared. No one spoke. The warmth she’d felt earlier slid away. Coldness wrapped around her.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew this intruder had left. She urged Champagne forward. The horse pushed her nose against Teagan’s boot then took a reluctant step. Teagan peered through the trees. No human form appeared.
The intruder had left. She felt his absence the way she’d felt his presence. His presence was summer sun, his absence winter ice. He’d been near her and now he was gone, but she hadn’t heard him walk away.
As a violinist, she was tuned to sound. His voice had been pleasurable, a melting softness against her heart. It had been as pleasurable as the sounds coming from her violin. She wanted to hear him speak again. She wanted to capture his voice. She wanted to see his face.
She guided Champagne to the main trail that led back to the ranch house. She’d learn the identity of the forest wanderer. He must be familiar with the area. He’d slipped away too quickly not to know his way.
Occasionally, trespassers wandered onto the ranch, a massive acreage filled with meadows and brooks and rich green forests. The ranch was paradise, which was why she was riding her horse through woods colored with the first hint of spring. She’d find out about this trespasser.
Was he a trespasser? She dragged in a breath of the freshly-scented forest. Her heart thundered. This man knew the area. He’d disappeared without her seeing him.
An unnerving thought stirred in her mind. This wasn’t his first hike through the Crystal Creek woods. He knew the area well enough to avoid a face to face encounter with her. He didn’t want her to see him.
She had to know. She had to know what this man with the gentle but powerful voice had to hide.
* * *
Fool. That was the one word that described him—Phineas Bonham St. Cyr. He’d moved through the Crystal Creek woods often enough to avoid detection. But he’d been drawn to her. He’d heard her humming. The sadness in her voice was smooth and soft and felt as if velvet had brushed against his scarred skin.
The tune she’d hummed he’d heard before. What was it? A violin concerto. Mendelssohn, he thought. A concerto known for its melancholy, and its beauty. But it was her sweet voice that made him want to see this woman. Once he’d seen Teagan Whitloch Munroe, he’d recognized her instantly. Anyone who followed classical music would be familiar with this up and coming violinist who stroked the strings of her Stradivarius violin with artistic grace.
In his desire to see her, he’d been careless. He’d stepped on a twig and cracked it. She knew someone was near and she’d called out. “Show yourself,” she’d said. Would that he could. But had she’d seen him, the sadness in her voice would’ve turned to terror. She’d never have understood the deformed figure that would’ve stood before her.
Still, he couldn’t push out of his mind that wounded, demolished look in the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen—startling blue fringed with thick, dark lashes.
If only he could know her, but he was a monster, a monster so badly disfigured no human being could bear his presence.
Wow, what a great excerpt. The story sounds very poignant. Let's see what we can find out about Laura.
A native of California, Laura Haley-McNeil spent her youth studying ballet and piano, though her favorite pastime was curling up with a good book. Without a clue as to how to write a book, she knew one day she would.
After college, she segued into the corporate world, but she never forgot her love for the arts and served on the board of two community orchestras. Finally realizing that the book she’d dreamt of writing wouldn’t write itself, she planted herself in front of her computer. She now immerses herself in the lives and loves of her characters in her romantic suspense and her contemporary romance novels. Many years later, she lived her own romantic novel when she married her piano teacher, the love of her life.
Though she and husband have left warm California for cooler Colorado, they enjoy the outdoor life of hiking, bicycling, horseback riding and snow skiing. They satisfy their love of music by attending concerts and hanging out with their musician friends, but Laura still catches a few free moments when she can sneak off and read.
Thank you, Laura, for stopping by and visiting with your book. I look forward to reading it and I hope you have wonderful success with it.
Please, if you're visiting, leave us a note and let us know you've stopped by. We love to hear from our readers.
Please welcome Robin Michaela to my blog today. She discusses her book, The Santa Bargain. Welcome....Robin.
Thanks so much for hosting me on your blog today, Connie!
The Santa Bargain is a contemporary holiday romance. It’s about a relationship-phobic single mom and the equally commitment-shy guy who agrees to be Santa in their small town’s holiday parade. In order to get Joe to agree, however, Maria has to strike a bargain that promises to heat up the holidays.
Years ago, I lived in Colorado. Some of the small mountain towns went all out for the holidays in the hope of luring tourist dollars from the nearby ski slopes. One town had carolers roaming the streets, dressed in beautiful 1800s costumes. They actually roasted chestnuts over a fire on the street corner, and they sold goodies like gingerbread and mulled cider. When I was writing The Santa Bargain, I remembered how much fun we’d had experiencing an old-fashioned Christmas festival in the mountains, so I wrote the town’s celebration into my holiday romance.
Thanks for checking out The Santa Bargain. Have a merry and bright holiday season!
Title: The Santa Bargain
Santa’s gifts can be both nice…and naughty.
Coffeehouse entrepreneur, Maria Thompson, has sworn off men ever since her young son’s father walked out of their lives. But, when she literally runs into sexy carpenter, Joe Sinclair, she wonders if it’s time to rethink her plan.
Joe Sinclair doesn’t need or want romance or a family. He was raised in the foster care system and learned long ago not to get attached to anyone. Now, if he could just remember that, he could put the sensual owner of Copper River, Colorado’s new coffee shop out of his mind.
After Maria and Joe volunteer to work together on the town’s first Christmas festival, their attraction lights up brighter than a new a string of holiday lights. When Santa comes to town, will they finally find everything they’ve ever wished for under the tree?
Wanting to lighten the mood, he cleared his throat. “I bet Zach is looking forward to Santa’s visit. The holiday is coming up fast.”
He watched a soft smile spread across Maria’s face. “Yes, he is. He’s at that perfect age for Santa – too old to be afraid, but still young enough to believe in the magic of the season.”
She must be working some magic of her own on him because Joe felt the warmth of her smile all the way to his toes. He grinned, remembering his own excitement as he awaited Santa’s visit when he was Zach’s age. “Has he told St. Nick what he wants for Christmas yet?”
“I’ve been waiting until the festival to take him to see Santa because the big guy is supposed to show up there. That is, if I can ever find someone to actually be Santa.” Maria clamped her mouth shut.
He saw a glint come into her eyes as she tilted her head to one side, then squinted at him like she was appraising a prize show horse. “Hmm.”
Joe really didn’t like the way she’d started looking at him. He could practically see the image in her mind – and, in it, he was all decked out in a red suit. He put his mug down on the counter so fast it made a clinking noise as he held up his hands. “Oh no, don’t get any ideas, Maria. I’m the last guy who should be Santa.”
“Why, Joe, I think you’d make a perfect St. Nick.”
He’d swear her voice had dropped by at least an octave. The new throaty tone made his groin twitch.
She picked up her spoon and slowly slid it between her lips. He watched her tongue sweep out to lick a droplet of coffee from it, and he fought to keep from groaning. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull his gaze from her mouth.
“You know, I’ve been thinking…if you were Santa, I could be your elf,” she continued in her sultry voice. “Who knows? You might be very happy with what you find under your Christmas tree this year.”
He suppressed a smile as he thought about that. How she could make being a festival Santa sound enticing was beyond him, but she was managing. Joe was very nearly tempted to tell her he would do it, but he held back and waited to see if she’d sweeten the deal.
So intriguing. I think I have to get this book on my holiday TBR list. Thank you for sharing. Let's see what we can find out about Robin!
Robin Michaela writes heartfelt, small town contemporary romances in all levels of heat, from sweet to steamy. Her stories combine family, pets, hope and friendship – all the elements that bring her readers emotional and enduring love stories.
By day, she’s a dental hygienist. By night, Robin can be found crafting her next novel - often while trying to type around her black cat, Boo. She's a runner and breast cancer survivor and happily married to her own Handsome Prince.
Thank you, Robin, for stopping by. I hope you have great sales from your book.
If you are a visitor, please let us know you've stopped by. We love to hear from our readers.
Hello all! Today I have Beverley Bateman visiting with her book, The Fourth Victim. She shares a little story of a practical joke someone pulled on her. Something that would certainly freak me out!!!!!
Like others, I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of something humorous that has happened in my life, and I may have written about it. But I write romantic suspense and usually kill people I don’t like. Then I remembered when I was back in nurses training and lived in residence. We had a curfew with lights out at that time. However, I knew how to sneak in to residence through a basement door from the hospital. (Not that I did this very often) I was late one night, and it was lights out. I snuck up to my room on the sixth floor and down the corridor to my room, in the dark. I opened the door and reached inside to turn on the lights. I let out a shriek when I touched a cold, clammy hand.
My ‘wonderful’ classmates in the rooms around me opened their doors and laughed and chuckled. I untied the rubber glove filled with cold water they’d hung over the light switch. Thank heavens it was on the sixth floor and our night supervisor didn’t hear me. It was a good joke on me and I was very careful when I sneaked in late after that. But no, this hasn’t showed up in any of my stories.
Oh my gosh! I can only imagine the things running through your mind on that! LOL
Tell us about your story!
Sara’s emotionally abusive husband dies unexpectedly. She’s struggling to reclaim the intelligent, independent person she was before she married. She vows never to let a man take over her life again. Now she’s part of a special team, training to help other women.
Mac is has been responsible for training women in special ops techniques so they are prepared when they are challenged to save other women. When he meets Sara, sparks fly between them. He wants her to quit the training and let him take care of her.
Sara graduates and now she and her team have to save Sara’s daughter from a serial killer. Can Mac step back and trust her in a dangerous situation? Can Sara and Mac resolve their issues, or will they go in opposite directions?
18 months earlier
The office said he’d had a heart attack. Was he alive? Did she want him to be? What if her husband had to stay home for a few weeks to recuperate? Palms sweating, Sara’s breath came in short, shallow bursts at the thought.
The taxi jerked to a stop in front of the hospital emergency entrance.
Sara fumbled through her purse and counted out her meager number of dollar bills. Gordon didn’t allow her to have a credit card and he only allowed her to have a small amount of cash. She didn’t have enough money to pay the taxi.
“I’m so sorry. I left home without any cash. I…I… Would you take a check?” Tears spilled over and trickled down her flushed cheeks.
The driver spun around. A short stubby finger waved at the sign over the rearview mirror. “Look lady, it says right there—No Checks.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. My husbands had a heart attack and I… I don’t know what to do.” Sara ran her fingers through her hair and scrunched the tight bun at her neck.
The driver shook his head. “Aw, shit. Go ahead, lady. Write the check.”
Sara pulled the single crumpled check Gordon allowed her carry for emergencies out of her purse. When she touched the check a vision of Gordon floated in front of her.
She froze and rapidly blinked her eyes. She only saw the ghosts of dead people. Gordon didn’t believe her and forbid her to ever mention it.
Could he really be dead?
“Gordon?” she whispered.
“Lady, are you writing that check or not?”
“Yes, sorry.” Sara scribbled her signature on the bottom of the check. “Please, fill it in, and give yourself a generous tip. Thank you, thank you so much.” She clutched her worn purse to her chest, slid out of the cab, and scurried through the emergency room doors.
What if he was dead? She didn’t have any money. Gordon did all the finances and never shared anything with her. How would she manage?
Twenty years ago, she could have handled it. Could she do it again? But he couldn’t be dead. Gordon would never allow that to happen.
His face flitted in front of her, fixed in an angry glare.
He had to be dead or she wouldn’t be seeing him. He didn’t want to be dead. He didn’t want her to be free. If he thought she could see him he’d be furious.
Sara shuffled toward the reception desk. She glanced over her shoulder, searching for some sign of Gordon, listening for his voice, waiting for him to yell at her. She couldn’t believe he was really dead, even though she had seen him. She clung to the edge of the transition counter, her head down, chewed on her lower lip and waited to be noticed.
Finally, a brusque voice snapped, “Can I help you?”
Sara looked up to see a heavy set, older woman in a loose blue top. The woman’s thick dark brows met in a v in the middle of her forehead.
“I’m sorry, I… I’m looking for my husband. His office phoned to say he’d been brought here.” Sara shrunk into her body.
“Name?” the woman commanded.
“Gordon, Gordon Peters.” Sara stared at her worn black oxfords, then at the scuffed, gray linoleum with the red, blue and yellow lines that led to different areas. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe she should have waited for Gordon to call and tell her whether she should be here or not. But if he was dead she would have to make her own decisions. Her pulse raced. Her head pounded. For the last nineteen years she had never made a decision. Gordon made all of them for her.
“When was he admitted?” The woman reminded Sara of a sergeant major.
“I’m not sure, less than an hour ago. They told me to meet him here. Maybe he’s been discharged already?” She chewed her thumbnail. If Gordon had been discharged, he’d be furious at her for spending all that money on a taxi. But she’d seen his ghost.
Tension twisted her stomach into knots. The pain caused her to clutch her purse tightly against her abdomen. She needed to get home and start dinner. She’d have to take a bus. Did she have enough money? She opened her purse.
The woman moved to a second pile of folders and pulled one out. “You’re his wife?”
Sara nodded. “Yes. Can I see him?”
A sob slipped out. If she didn’t find see him soon, he’d be furious. He’d think she was too stupid to even find him in a hospital and he’d be right.
His ghost floated in front of her. This time confusion mixed with his anger
“Have a seat, Mrs. Peters. I’ll have the doctor speak to you.” The sergeant major’s voice softened. She indicated a chair near the desk.
“No, please, I need to see him right away. He’ll be upset if I’m late.”
The woman rounded the desk and laid her hand on Sara’s shoulder. She squeezed gently for a second. “It’ll be okay, honey. You just sit down for a minute. The doctor will be right out.”
Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-fourth-victim-saras-story-beverley-bateman/1129787236;jsessionid=DCE3DC6D307F1874CC82403A3F744C44.prodny_store01-atgap02?ean=294015575173
How intriguing. I think I'll go and get me a copy of the book!
What can we find out about Beverley Bateman?
Murder, mystery and romance fills award-winning, Canadian author, Beverley Bateman's life. She loves to plot, kill and hopefully baffle the reader. Her nursing and public health nursing background helps with some details and administering a community care facility program had her investigating and directing investigations into irregularities and sometimes a death. She even has court experience.
She began writing in her preteens and loved to write locked room mysteries. Reading Nancy Drew helped her figure out plots. Facing breast cancer, she decided she needed to do what she’d always wanted and began to write. She completed her first romantic suspense novel and hasn’t stopped writing since. She recently moved and now lives among ranches and wheat fields in southern Alberta, with her husband and Shiba Inu dog.
Facebook Authorpage - http://www.facebook.com/AuthorBeverleyBateman?ref=hl
Amazon author page http://www.amazon.com/Beverley-Bateman/e/B008M01F5E
BLOG - http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/
Triberr blog http://beverleybateman.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss
LinkedIn - email@example.com https://www.linkedin.com/in/beverleybateman/
tumblr - darkwriter.tumblr.com
Beverley Bateman and her latest release The Fourth Victim are guests on https://www.constancebretes.com/connies-blog #MFRWAuthors #Newrelease
Check out The Fourth Victim and the secret Foundation at https://www.constancebretes.com/connies-blog #MFRWAuthors #Newrelease #Romanticsuspense
The Fourth Victim, a secret organization and a serial killer check it out at https://www.constancebretes.com/connies-blog #MFRWAuthor #Newrelease
Thank you so much for stopping by, Beverley. I hope you have great success with your book.
If you are visiting, please leave us a comment and let us know you've stopped by, we love to hear from our readers!
Please welcome Kate McKeever to my blog today with her book, Sinner's Redemption. She shares an interesting tidbit about her DIY project that is sure to bring a chuckle...
I’ve always been an independent being. My mother said my first sentence was “Me do it,” and I’ve been insisting on doing things myself for ever since. And, yes, it’s definitely gotten me in trouble.
When I think of examples of the above, I come up with way too many but one that stands out in my mind is the time I bought drainage pipe. If you’ve ever done any work on your yard or house, you’re probably familiar with the flexible plastic pipe that is buried in the ground and connects to either a larger drainage pipe or the guttering of your house. It serves a wonderful purpose, that of making sure your yard doesn’t become a welcome wagon for mosquitos, mold and contractors who have to drain your basement.
I had such a back yard. When I bought my first house, a new construction with a small retaining wall at the back of the patio, I realized quickly that, with any rainfall, the runoff settled in my back yard, making it a squishy, sloshy mess until the sun dried it up. I, being a frugal, responsible home owner and above mentioned independent woman, decided I’d forgo the handyman or contractor route and figure out the drainage problem myself.
I did well with the planning. Always do, it seems. It’s the execution that goes south for me. I compiled a list, headed to the nearest big box hardware store and purchased all the items necessary for my drainage project. However, I hadn’t counted on space. The space in my Toyota Corolla’s trunk, to be precise.
I’d purchased fifty feet of drainage pipe and it came neatly coiled and tied with plastic ties, so to be easily transported. And so it was, until I got to my car. I’d figured on a tight fit but not on the fact that the pipe was too fat, in its nicely tied bundle, to go in the trunk. So I, in my independent wisdom, untied it.
Yep, you guess it. The pipe proceeded to snake its way across my lane in the parking lot and back toward the store, as if missing momma. I ran after it, gathering it up in my arms and hustling it to my car. After all, if someone ran over the pipe, it wouldn’t take any water anywhere.
After trying to escape my car trunk several times, the snakey pipe finally got corralled when I crawled into the trunk, released the back seat lever and folded the back seat. I then threaded the pipe into the back seat and trunk and happily drove home with the pipe in. my rear view all the way.
And no, no one asked if they could help, but I provided quite a show for the early bird contractors in the parking lot.
I haven’t written this in a book, yet. But I have plans!
You probably didn't realize this, but there was probably a whole bunch of guys inside the store watching you. LOL
Tell us a little bit about Sinner's Redemption
About Sinner’s Redemption
Ex Seal sniper Cole “Sinner” Ramsey left the service when one mistake ended an innocent’s life. His job now, that of a rehabilitation counselor at the Brighter Days Ranch outside of Eagle Rock, Montana, keeps him busy and is fulfilling his desire to be of service. He’s put his past behind him. Or so he thinks until Vanessa “Van” Hastings shows up at the ranch with PTSD and memory loss after being held hostage in the middle east for weeks. As Cole tries to put his resentment of her part in his career ending mistake on the back burner, Van’s beauty, bravery and vulnerability make him rethink this woman’s purpose, both in his life and for her own. As Van recovers her memory, the couple realize more may be at stake than their affection for each other. Can they stay alive long enough to find out if love is possible for them?
Cole sighted the target in his night scope and sussed the situation. Too many people around the man now, he needed to wait until there would be no ancillary harm. The woods and brush around him provided cover, along with the ever-present vines. He ignored the trickling sweat pouring down his back, grateful for the band he’d tied on his forehead. It wicked the moisture from his face, keeping sweat out of his eyes. Cole stayed in place, waiting for interminable moments, patient. Watching.
“Sinner,” his commander’s voice hissed over his com unit and Cole clicked in reply. “You got em?”
“In my sights. Waiting for clutter.”
“Take em now, we gotta get the woman out.”
Cole stifled a curse and clicked in reply. He took a breath, centering his body and looked down his scope again. The hostage, a dark-haired woman dressed in dirty jeans and a stained t-shirt, stood alongside the target, her hands behind her. As he squeezed the trigger, Cole watched in slow motion as the woman bent over and pushed at the target with her shoulder. Cole corrected automatically and his second bullet found its home. He wasted a moment to see the results of his shots. Damn it! Instead of the one hit, he’d taken out two. And one of them an innocent.
He policed his area and silently pulled back as all hell broke loose in the encampment. As he ran through the South American forest, Cole tried to get the image of the fallen innocent out of his mind but the blank eyes stared back at him, accusatory, judging.
Cole strode across the snow-covered Montana ground, his hands plunged in his denim jacket pockets. Damn, it was cold and not even officially winter yet. He’d have to get something warmer if he planned on staying at the Brighter Days Ranch for any period of time.
He stomped up onto the porch and entered the main house, wiping his boots on the mat before greeting Hannah, the program head. “Hannah, you didn’t tell me my ass would be numb here.”
She glanced up from the pile of paper on a work-worn table and laughed. “You’re a big boy. You should have done your research on the ranch before agreeing to come work for me. You need a coat, not that dinky jacket.”
Her husband, Taz Davilla leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug in his hand. “After the hot spots you’re used to, I don’t doubt you’re freezing your balls off. Sorry, babe,” he glanced at Hannah and grinned. “The truth’s the truth.”
She shook her head and gestured toward the coffee pot. “Get something to drink and we’ll go over the cases we have.”
Cole ambled to the counter and filled a mug to the brim before taking a tongue scalding sip. He sighed and removed his jacket, hanging it on a hook and took a seat at the table. “You got an office, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Why work at the kitchen table?”
She tilted her head. “I love this room, always have. It’s more comfortable than the office.”
“And she can watch everything that’s going on from here,” Taz joked and kissed his wife on the cheek before straightening. “I need to check in with Hank, babe. I’ll see you later,”
She nodded and Cole waited as she watched her husband leave the room. “He still working for Hank?”
“He takes assignments near home,” she replied. “Neither of us want him to be traveling all over the world and Brotherhood Protectors is growing. He still likes to ‘keep his hand in’, as he says.”
“Better him than me,” Cole muttered and ignored the sharp look Hannah sent his way. He’d been out of the military four years and it hadn’t gotten any easier, dealing with the dreams and memories.
“Are you satisfied with counseling?”
He nodded, not offering any explanation. Rehab counseling suited him now.
“I’ve noticed you still do lots of PE and target practice.” She laid a file aside, face down and opened another, not meeting his gaze.
He shrugged, “I loved shooting targets as a kid. I guess that never goes away.” And paper targets didn’t bleed.
She didn’t question him further. Hannah was good like that. He nodded toward the files, “What do we have?”
She handed a couple files to him for review. “A couple amputees are coming in this week. One has been out of the military for a year and the other is just coming out. And we have a non-military case.”
He glanced up from the folder he’d been perusing. “You haven’t taken any non-military cases, have you? Not in the time I’ve been here, anyway.”
“We make exceptions now and then. This one was a special favor from the State Department.” She pushed the folder toward him. “An amnesia case, along with some trauma. You’ll be in charge, since her wounds are more emotional than physical.”
“She was a hostage,” Hannah murmured and Cole felt his pulse quicken. “She got out of the hospital last week.”
“Syria. Apparently, the extraction team took out a hornet’s nest of bad guys and they found her in the middle of it all. They didn’t even know she was there until they went in to clean up.”
Cole grunted an absent response as he surveyed the information. "Female, early thirties, undernourished, scars from probable beatings, no memories of her imprisonment. Diagnosis of PTSD."
“She’s from DC, worked as a reporter for one of the cable stations. Went on assignments all over the world. She’d been freelancing this past year, after the station let her go. That’s why no one knew where she was.”
“No one reported her missing?”
“Seems that she went on that assignments without letting anyone know her destination. Right now, she’s pretty subdued. And scared. She’s in cabin three.”
Cole finally looked at the name tab on the side of the chart. He didn’t spout expletives, didn’t throw the file across the room, didn’t even change his breathing. Inside, the name Vanessa Hastings made his blood run cold. The woman responsible for the ancillary death was his new assignment.
He stood and refilled the half full cup at the counter, taking precious moments to regain his composure. Vanessa Hastings had bad luck with hostage situations. His last assignment as a Seal sniper, to assist in her extraction from a drug encampment years before, resulted in a final casualty for which he couldn’t forgive himself. If she hadn’t shoved the target–. Damn. His head started splitting with an intense headache, radiating from his neck. He took a breath and turned to Hannah.
“Let me look over her file and I’ll pay her a visit. She okay with me being in the room alone with her?”
Hannah shook her head. “No, we’ll have one of the women counselors with her at first. And the initial meeting will be with her handler.”
“Handler? She that important?”
Hannah tilted her head in consideration. “I think the information she can’t remember is that important. This request came down from pretty high in the government. I couldn’t have refused without a good reason, even if I wanted to.”
He grunted. “The handler male or female?”
“Male. And there’s a secretary that accompanies him everywhere he goes.” Hannah smirked. “Between you and me, that secretary probably has a nine millimeter inside her jacket."
Cole nodded. So the handler had a body guard. Did that mean Ms. Hastings needed one too?
Available at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sinners-Redemption-Brotherhood-Protectors-World-ebook/dp/B07K89LSBD/
I've always liked stories that have military heros. This sounds really intriguing and I look forward to reading it.
Let's find out a little about Kate McKeever.
Kate McKeever was born and raised in the south and spent her childhood rambling in the woods and reading, often at the same time. She spent a lot of time in libraries as a volunteer and reader, then as a perennial student, so her mother thought. She tried several careers before settling down on her current one. Writing is a passion and joy. Kate loves to write sweet and spicy contemporary and paranormal romances.
Thank you, Kate, for stopping by and sharing your story.
I hope you all enjoyed today's blog, and please, leave a comment and let us know you stopped by. We love to hear from our readers.
Please welcome back Barbara White Daille to my blog today. She shares a little experience she's had making Christmas ornaments, and her book, Snowbound with Mr. Wrong. Thank you, Barbara, for joining us!
Thank you to Connie for inviting me back to the blog!
I love the holidays and especially love decorating the Christmas tree and the house with all kinds of handmade ornaments. Uhh. . . handmade by other people, that is. LOL
A long time ago, I tried to get crafty at Christmastime. Really. At the time, I was a Brownie (the younger version of a Girl Scout) and our troop used to spend the November and December meetings getting ready for Christmas. Part of the prep involved making ornaments. Knitted snowmen. . . felt stockings cut out in fancy designs with the pieces hot-glued together. . . wreaths made of macaroni glued to paper plates and spray-painted. And everything I attempted turned into a disaster!
I’ve now passed along my unhappy experiences to Nick, the hero of my first Snowflake Valley book, Snowbound with Mr. Wrong. Nick is trapped in a mountain lodge with his ex and three unrelated kids. As you’ll see in the excerpt below, I put the icing on the cake. . . or should I say, the trimming on the tree?. . . by having the heroine rope Nick into making ornaments with her and the kids. :)
Thanks to my publisher, Snowbound with Mr. Wrong is on sale for 99 cents in e-book format at most etailers for the entire month of November. I hope you’ll check it out!
LOL, I remember those years when making ornaments with disastrous results! I've a feeling Nick is in for a surprise!
Worst. Day. Ever. After Lyssa Barnett’s sister tricks her into reprising her role at Snowflake Valley's annual children's party, she doesn’t think anything can be worse than squeezing into her too-small elf costume. Then tall, dark, and way too handsome Nick Tavlock shows up to play Santa…and an unexpected storm leaves them snowbound in the isolated lodge.
The last thing Nick wants is to spend a cozy Christmas Eve with a trio of kids and the woman who dumped him. But as much as Lyssa frustrates him, he can't stop thinking about her. And soon, he's fighting very un-Santa-like thoughts of kissing a certain sexy Miss Elf under the mistletoe. As Nick starts to fall for Lyssa all over again, he knows it will take nothing short of a miracle to have Lyssa in his arms on Christmas Day.
Lyssa sat on the floor in front of the coffee table sewing her own stocking, making tiny, even stitches invisible to him from this distance.
Nick stared down again at the table and the two fabric pieces meant for his stocking. He still had no plans to join in on this sewing bee. He had flunked basket-weaving at summer camp and botched every project planned during every weekend retreat his parents signed him up to attend.
But somehow his skill in threading a needle had branded him an expert, at least in Tommy’s eyes. The little boy sat next to him on the couch and showed him every stitch he made.
“Do you think Santa likes my stocking?” Tommy asked.
The kid emphasized the word, as if someone here had already insulted his work. “I’m sure he’ll like it. In fact, you’re doing such a great job, I think you should make my stocking, too.”
“But Santa doesn’t—” The boy cut himself off and put his head down over his work again.
Across the room, Mollie gave a huge, exasperated sigh.
Till this morning, the little girl had seemed inclined to stick by his side. Since they had all returned to the living room, she had sat apart from them in his former Santa chair, stabbing her stocking-shaped piece of fabric with her needle as if it were some kind of voodoo doll. He pitied the person she was picturing as her target.
“When we get back to civilization,” he said, “we’ll need to make a shopping trip.”
That caught Mollie’s attention, though she looked up without a word.
It caught Lyssa’s attention, too, judging by the way her hand holding the needle had frozen in midair. Already he could tell she was forming objections to his plan. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to please her.
“Shopping?” Tommy asked. “What can we buy?”
“Christmas presents for all your parents.”
“But I told…I told Santa I made a card.”
“And that’s very nice. But there’s no reason you can’t give your mom and dad a present, too.”
“We’ll make ornaments,” Lyssa said.
“Make how?” Tommy demanded. “And what’s a ormer…that thing you said?”
“It’s a decoration for your Christmas tree. We’ll make them with a very special recipe I have for clay. We use flour and salt and glue and food coloring. Just like you do in school with Miss Barnett, right, Mollie?”
The girl shrugged and stabbed her stocking again.
This time, Nick didn’t blame her. The thought of having to make a stocking had been bad enough. And now, this?
Lyssa was going to great lengths to keep the kids occupied. He had a sneaking suspicion her efforts were also aimed at making sure he and she didn’t get to spend any time alone. After last night, he couldn’t blame her.
Yet even the fresh wave of guilt he felt now couldn’t keep him from wanting her.
Amazon Canada: http://bit.ly/swmw-ca
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/swmw-bn
Entangled Publishing: http://bit.ly/swmw-pg
I will definitely have to get the book to find out how this goes......
Let's find out a little more about Barbara.
Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom. Barbara also loves writing, reading, and chocolate. Come to think of it, she enjoys writing about those subjects, too!
Barbara wrote her first short story at the age of nine, then typed "The End" to her first novel many years later...in the eighth grade. Now she's writing contemporary romance on a daily basis. Sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest in her writing life: https://barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter.
And don’t forget to check out Snowbound with Mr. Wrong while it’s sale-priced at $.99 during November!
Social Media Links
Amazon author page http://www.amazon.com/Barbara-White-Daille/e/B002J6B0QQ
Harlequin author page https://www.harlequin.com/shop/authors/23759_barbara-white-daille.html
Entangled author page http://entangledpublishing.com/category/barbara-white-daille/
Thanks so much Barbara, for stopping by. I hope you have great success for your book.
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