Kissing Toads in the Search for Love
 
Six years ago, on my first Valentine’s Day as a single girl (again), a dear friend gave me a tin of My Prince Gummy Frogs. At the time I wasn’t certain if she was poking fun at how many toads girls have to kiss in the search for love. This also could have been a not-so-subtle message that I had kissed too many toads already. She met some of the guys I went out with, so I fear it was the latter.
 
Kissing toads to find the good guys is the stuff of fairy tales, but for single girls around the world, it’s real. It’s especially difficult for anyone coming out of an emotionally or physically abusive relationship. Relearning to love ourselves and not repeat the past is harder than it sounds. I drew from a few of my comical and heartbreaking experiences to develop Gillian, the main character in Becker Circle. She kisses a few toads, learns from each, and discovers what real love is.
 
They’re not all toads. There are many princes out there. During those years, I enjoyed single life and continued to nibble on the gummy frogs until I finally met my prince.
 
Happy Valentine’s!

About Becker Circle
My first and only boyfriend believed I was too gutless to leave. He was dead wrong. My name’s Gillian. I graduated Harvard early and left his hot temper and everyone else behind for Dallas. Determined to make it on my own, I land a second job bartending at the neighborhood pub smack in drama central where most every jerk in the neighborhood hits on me—at a huge price.
 
A week into the job, the neighborhood’s very popular drug dealer falls to his death a few feet from the table I’m serving. The cops say suicide, but the hot guitar player in the band and I suspect foul play, and I intend to prove it. We dig deeper, grow closer, and make a shocking discovery, we know the murderer. Watch the trailer.
 
Find Becker Circle on  Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, iTunes, Kobo, B&N Nook

​Becker Circle excerpt from chapter twenty-one—on Valentine’s Day
 
The sound of Crazy Little Thing Called Love fills the George & Dragon, one of my mom’s favorites. The funny thing is the jukebox isn’t on.
I’m looking for her. When I round the corner, there she is. Whistle Bitch is hanging red streamers and foil hearts while whistling a melody that would’ve made Freddie Mercury proud. I know because Mom dragged me to the Queen concert when I was ten. I thought I’d hate it but I didn’t. I had no idea the night would be one of our last outings before she got sick.
“How about some help, Makinzie?” I grab a roll of tape then drag a chair around the bar and start sticking red and white cupids around the alcohol signs covering most of the walls.
“You think we’ll be busy tonight?” She stops whistling long enough to ask.
“Don’t know. You’d think people would be on dates rather than at the neighborhood bar we’ve disguised as Cupid’s love nest.” I slap a red cupid in the middle of the giant double revolver beer sign. “But this is Becker Circle. Sad, right? Then we have the band. Who knows what might happen.”
She starts whistling again.
“Is that Heartbreak Hotel?”
She pauses. “I’m impressed. You know your Elvis.”
“I know my dad.”
“Oh my God, mine too!” She high-fives me from the ladder then hangs another row of foil hearts from the beam.
I walk to the other side of the room with the rest of the cupids. That’s when I notice the drink specials scribbled across the chalk board. Lady Killer—heavy on gin I’m sure, Red Nail, Love Bite, Scarlett O’Hara, and Red Hot. I scan the recipes on my phone. SoCo and cranberry, the girls will go for the Scarlett O’Hara. Guys? Not so much except for maybe the Red Hot since it’s a shot. What guy alone on Valentine’s wouldn’t like a cinnamon schnapps and tequila?
Steve bursts through the door. “Hey Gillian. Ready for a zoo tonight?”
Makinzie and I trade glances. “We were just wondering about tonight’s crowd. Do we have any choice?”

​About Addison Brae
Addison Brae lives on the edge of downtown Dallas, Texas. She’s been writing since childhood and continues as an independent marketing consultant. She’s addicted to reading and enjoys jogging, sipping red wine, traveling the world, collecting interesting cocktail recipes, binge-watching TV series, vintage clothing, and hanging out with her artistic other half and their neurotic cat Lucy.
 
Connect with Addison on her website, Tirgearr Publishing, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or YouTube.

​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

​When I was a little girl, my dad got lost, a lot. Since we took a lot of road trips, this was a source of frustration for my mom. Finally, when I was about eight, she decided to teach me how to read a map. While she rode herd on my four brothers and sisters in the back seat of the car, it was my job to sit in front and provide directions to our next destination. I always managed to get us there. Until one day, my aunt invited me and my older sister for an overnighter at her new home in a town about 60 miles away. Before we left, my mom handed me written instructions. However, when we got to the town, we got lost. It was past dinner time and we couldn’t find any open gas stations or pay phones. So we drove around and around. Finally, I said, “Daddy, Mommy always says that “sometimes you just have to follow the moon.” I pointed at the moon in the sky. “Follow it.” He did and to our amazement, we found my aunt’s house. To this day, when anyone in my family gets lost, they get the same response. “Just follow the moon!” 

​“You think I’m Sally Jane Powell?”
 
“I can’t confirm that, not without a DNA test, but…” Lisa pulled out two driver’s licenses from the envelope. “I found these in that shoebox you gave me, the one with your parents’ personal effects and your photos and stuff. Your parents were first issued driver’s licenses in Wisconsin in nineteen ninety-four, five years after you were born, also the year Sally was kidnapped.”
Lisa tapped the photos on the licenses. “Look at your parents, Slee. You look nothing like them. Do you know the chances of two brown-eyed adults, both with dark hair, having a blonde, blue-eyed child? It’s exceptionally rare. It’s possible one of your grandparents had blue eyes, but I couldn’t find any photos to confirm.”
 
“Maybe I was adopted. I always wondered…”
 
Lisa shook her head. “I’m sorry, Slee. I couldn’t find a record of that either.” She pulled out two more news clippings. “Slee, this is a photo of you when you were seven. When you won a spelling bee? It was in your box.” She handed the other clipping to Sarah. “Compare that photo to the one of Sally. The one the police distributed when she was taken.”
 
Sarah studied both photos. Then she shook her head. “There are some similarities, sure. Same eyes. Same color hair. But there are also some differences. My face is thinner. My hair is long and straight. Hers is curly. It could just be a coincidence.” She looked up at Lisa and her eyes filled. “No way I was kidnapped. My parents loved me too much. Besides, don’t people kidnap for money?”
 
Lisa shook her head. “Not always. Sometimes, they just want a child.” She patted Sarah’s hand. “Slee, I know this is disturbing, but let’s not put the cart before the horse. And no matter what we find, that doesn’t make your parents any less your parents. Sure, there’s a chance that you don’t share their blood, but they loved you. Hold on to that.”
 
Buy links:
 
Publisher--http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-2032-1-the-presidents-daughter
Amazon:  coming soon
 
Smashwords: coming soon

​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 President’s 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!
 
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/

​Thank you for having me, Connie!
 
In high school, I had the best job a teenage social butterfly growing up in a small Texas town in the early 90s could want. I worked at the town video store. It was great because this little video store sat on a very active corner of the town square. And, being that this was BC (before cellphones) the social network was the square, so I had the good fortune to make $5.15 an hour while hanging out with my friends. Oh yeah, and occasionally ringing up customers.
 
While there were plenty of hilarious stories to go around (like the time my boss thought it would be fun if I were the “Rollerblading Rentender,” but the store sat on a slant and I wiped out half of the shelves), it was the reflection of this now bygone era that fueled my Christmas novella, The Crazy Yates.
 
In this story, twentysomething Callie Yates is forced to be the breadwinner in her family. Her mother left when she was twelve, and her dad developed agoraphobia. Now, just days away from Christmas, she faces the reality that the town video store where she works is closing. But rather than dampen the holiday spirit, Callie is determined to give her teenage siblings a memorable Christmas. 

Callie Yates grew up the day her mother left. It was never easy caring for her agoraphobic father and trying to give her three teenage siblings the childhood she never had. But when she learns the store where she works is closing after the holidays, Callie is forced to make a decision. Will she be honest with her family, or give them one final Merry Christmas?

​Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Crazy-Yates-Kimberly-Packard-ebook/dp/B01N2KAHZ8/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1544997308&sr=8-4&keywords=Kimberly+packard
Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-crazy-yates
Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-crazy-yates-kimberly-packard/1125191796?ean=2940156792306
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-crazy-yates/id1179114236?mt=11
 
The Crazy Yates excerpt:
Callie Yates always thought families were a lot like lottery tickets. You won’t really know if you’ve got a winner until you scratch away the silver fillings to match up the magic numbers.
            Same with families. You won’t know if you’ve been lucky enough to be born into money, power, good looks or smarts until after you’ve hurtled through the birth canal screaming into the light.
            Some people match up only one or two of the numbers. Money and looks. Power and intelligence. A few hit the jackpot, three of a kind.
            But, not the Yates family. They’ve been scratching off duds longer than there’s been lottery tickets in the dusty west Texas town of Keane.
            Callie rolled over and her alarm clock came into focus. 5:59. She even got shorted that last minute of sleep. A mountain of quilts tumbled to the floor. One stretched-out sock dangled from her foot, the other absent, the latest sacrifice to the Laundry Gods.
            “Good morning, west Texas.” A deejay howled through her clock radio. Some mornings she greeted him with a cordial ‘Good morning, Mr. Deejay’ and other mornings she cursed at him as if he were the Devil incarnate. “If you’re not done with your Christmas shopping, get at it. Only two days left and, folks, looks like we’ve got some snow and ice moving into the Panhandle.”
            She sighed and fell on her back, pulling her pillow over her head. This morning she wanted to punch him. Two days until Christmas. Two days to explain to her family why the only gifts under the tree were the wrapped empty boxes they’ve used for decorations. Two days to fess up that she’s known for some time that when the calendar flipped over to January, she’d be out of a job.
            In a town as small as Keane, jobs were as rare as blue diamonds and were as heavily guarded.
            Callie threw the pillow off her head. Make it through the holiday. Save that conversation for the 26th. Give them one last joyful Christmas. She cringed as her unsocked toe touched the floor. She’d already started preparing for January by closing off the vents in her room. It probably didn’t make much difference in the gas bill, but telling herself that her brother, sisters and dad deserved the heat more assuaged some guilt.
            Emerging from her upstairs room was like crossing from a realm of peace into the bloodiest battle history has seen: her fifteen-year-old brother and seventeen-year-old sister were fighting to the death over the bathroom.
Laila won the looks lottery in the family. Long, thick auburn hair that belonged in a shampoo ad, not on the head of a poor west Texas teen, was Laila’s strength and the family’s curse, especially when it came to shower time.
The beleaguered it-takes-so-much-work-to-be-pretty whining amplified by don’t-hate-me-because-I’m-beautiful moaning usually ended with no-one-gets-me desperation. On a weekly basis Callie was hiding the scissors to prevent someone from cutting off Laila’s hair. Sometimes even hiding them from herself.
            Blake’s recent growth spurt gave him a four-inch advantage over Laila, but his sister fought dirty.
            “Laila, I’ll be out in three minutes,” he said, his bony arms trying to elbow her out of the doorframe. “After that it’s all yours.”
            “You go in there and I’ll tell the entire school that I caught you with my aerobics DVDs.”
            Callie cringed. It would have been so much easier if he’d been using those videos for working out.

​Kimberly Packard is an award-winning author of edgy women’s fiction. She began visiting her spot on the shelves at libraries and bookstores at a young age, gazing between the Os and the Qs. Kimberly received a degree in journalism from the University of North Texas, and has worked in public relations and communications for nearly 20 years.
When she isn’t writing, she can be found running, doing a poor imitation of yoga or curled up with a book. She resides in Texas with her husband Colby, a clever cat named Oliver and a yellow lab named Charlie. 
Her debut novel, Phoenix, was awarded as Best General Fiction of 2013 by the Texas Association of Authors. Other published works by Kimberly includes a Christmas novella, The Crazy Yates, and the sequels to Phoenix, Pardon Falls and Prospera Pass. Her latest novel, Vortex, will be released in early 2019.
Follow Kimberly online at www.kimberlypackard.com, Twitter or Instagram @kimberlypackard, or Facebook, www.facebook.com/kimberlypackardauthor. 

​Hi Connie! I’m delighted to be here today! My story has a dash of humor, since I called it a ‘tug-of-war’ with a certain character. She was definitely not my first pick for my current story, even though she was a major secondary character in the previous two books of the series, Legends of the Fenian Warriors. Let me explain further…
 
I have never had a story developed so quickly as Trial of a Warrior. Princess Abela stunned me one cold winter morning when she stepped forth within my thoughts and Liam’s prison. Uncertainty filled me as I fought against her choice for the heroine. Yet, she refused to leave, and I yielded to her demands. After all, she is royalty.
 
In the end, it was a perfect match.
 
Liam and Abela took me on an amazing adventure. I allowed these characters to involve me—the writer—on their epic journey. We also learned that the greatest Fenian Warrior, Aidan Kerrigan, had his own secret. Did I know this important fact? No. The warrior chose not to reveal this particular information until I was almost finished writing the story.
 
And this is what happens in the life of a writer. Some elements of a story unfold immediately before we hit the first keystroke. However, there are times when you have nothing, and when you sit down to begin, the characters reveal the story to you.

​"You met them in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their legends!”
 
A warrior sentenced to die.
 
On trial for breaking a supreme Fae law, Fenian Warrior, Liam MacGregor has no regrets. He is prepared to accept his sentence—even if it means his death. However, freedom comes in an unexpected manner, and brings with it certain dangers as he travels through the Veil of Ages. 
 
A princess honor-bound to remain hidden.
 
Princess Abela might be a priestess and the daughter of royalty, but that doesn’t prevent her from doing the unimaginable. She sacrifices duty and honor to set free the man who captured her heart so many years ago. No matter the severity of his crimes, she cannot let Liam die.
 
A rescue that will bring about a war and divide a kingdom!   
 
In their quest to secure a treaty to forestall Liam’s death sentence, they must fight their desires for one another, as well as the Fenian Warriors sent to capture them.

Taking the end of her braid, Liam wove the soft hair around his finger. Black as ebony, the lock glistened in the soft glow of the fire. She’d tempted him beyond reason. Once, he thought there might have been a destiny, but her words of rejection slammed the door on any possibility. If she had no desire to claim him, why did Abela come to his initiation?
 
“Why witness my ceremony?” He let out a frustrated breath and brought the braid to his lips.
 
“Because I never said goodbye,” she uttered softly. Lifting her head, her eyes sought his and her cheeks colored from the heat of his gaze.
 
Liam was unable to look away from her beauty. “No. I recall harsh words and tears.”
 
“We were young--naïve.”
 
“Stubborn and set on a path of adventure,” he added.
 
“But our roads have led us to this fork, so to speak.”
 
Liam cupped her chin. “Was it destined?” He felt her tremble from his touch.
 
“I am not a seer,” she replied, darting her tongue out along her bottom lip. 
 
His mind screamed at him to move away. She was a princess—a priestess. But the temptation to taste her lips once more seeped into his being. Liam bent his head and placed a feather-like kiss on the corner of her mouth.
 
A small breathless whisper escaped her lips, “More.”
 
Her invitation sparked a desire that had remained sealed. Cupping the back of her head, he continued to kiss her tenderly on the eyes, nose, and forehead. As he shifted his position, Liam brought his arms around her and dared to feast on something that was forbidden. If death was his future, he wanted one more kiss to take with him.
 
 
Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JGMH8XS/
 
BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/trial-of-a-warrior-mary-morgan/1129784209?ean=2940161545003
 
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/trial-of-a-warrior/id1441254175?mt=11
​

Award-winning Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.
 
Mary's passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn't until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling--writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.
 
If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.

Social Media Links:
 
WEBSITE:  http://www.marymorganauthor.com
BLOG:  http://www.marymorganauthor.com/blog
TWITTER:  http://twitter.com/m_morganauthor
FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.facebook.com/MaryMorganAuthor/
GOODREADS:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8271002.Mary_Morgan
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:  http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Morgan/e/B00KPE3NWI/
PINTEREST:  www.pinterest.com/marymorgan50/
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/marymorgan2/
BOOKBUB: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-morgan

​Thank you, Connie, for hosting me on your blog today! I know you like to share humorous stories with your readers, so I have an amusing experience to share. When I was nineteen or twenty, I got called to jury duty. I was selected for a trial and after much deliberation, it ended up being a hung jury.
My husband and I moved to California a few years later, and even though we only lived there for a little over a year, my name was picked for jury duty (the defendant was found guilty). A couple years after moving back to Milwaukee County, I was again summoned to jury duty (the defendant was found not guilty).
A year and a half later, we moved to a different county in Wisconsin and no joke… I was summoned to jury duty for the fourth time before the age of thirty. That time, I wasn’t picked for the actual trial. Maybe they were intimidated by all my experience? Ha! I’m now 38 and have been summoned one additional time but not selected for the actual trial.
My husband and I moved back to Milwaukee County last year, so I’m expecting another summons any day now, lol. Although my uncanny experience inside a courtroom could provide some good material, none of my books have involved jury duty of any kind 😊
My latest book is Christmas in Meadow Creek, a contemporary Christian romance novella. This is my second published book, with Blast from Her Past being my first. Both are available for Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and paperback on Amazon.

​Sarah Laughlin left her big-city life and dead-end relationship behind for a fresh start as a fourth-grade teacher in the small, Wisconsin town of Meadow Creek. And it feels like home, too, despite the persistent troublemaker in her class and the lack of familiar faces. But the holidays are going to be lonely this year. Until she meets firefighter Lincoln Thompson. Suddenly, the hope of spending Christmas with someone she cares about is within reach.

Lincoln loves his home town of Meadow Creek, but ever since his long-time girlfriend left him for a better life in the city, he wonders if he’ll ever find love in this small town where everyone knows everyone. Then he meets Sarah during her class's field trip to his firehouse, and a spark is lit. But when they discover that Sarah's troublemaking student is none other than Lincoln's beloved nephew, their newfound relationship is put to the test. Can they navigate through the complexities of family dynamics to find a love that will last?

“Y’know, it’s kind of funny how we keep running into each other.” Lincoln leaned his elbow on the table with his head resting on his hand, as if blocking out anyone behind him, and focused solely on Sarah’s face.
 
She was suddenly ultra-conscious of her breathing, her blinking, her every move. And was it just her, or was it getting hot in here? “Yeah,” she finally managed to say. “Three days in a row now.”
 
Lincoln’s lips formed a slanted smile, and for the first time she noticed a dimple on his handsomely rugged cheek. He leaned in before speaking again, his voice extra low. “I was wondering if you wanted to make sure we saw each other again? Maybe tonight—for dinner?”
 
She prayed he didn’t notice how hard she swallowed upon hearing his question. And what was that noise—was that her heart beating? She hoped he couldn’t hear it. Why was it so hard to think straight all of a sudden? This was the first request for a date she’d received since moving. Well, since Todd had broken up with her, really. Thankfully, her brain was finally able to send her mouth the message to smile. “Sure. Yeah, I’d like that.”
 
Lincoln’s crooked smile turned into an all-out beam. “Great. Can I pick you up at seven? If you don’t mind giving me your address.”
 
Quickly nodding, Sarah got out her phone. “I can text it to you. What’s your number?”
 
She sent the text to the number he recited and put her phone away.
 
Lincoln’s eyes crinkled as he spoke. “Well, I better get back to serving.” He stood to leave, touching Sarah’s arm gently. “I’m glad I ran into you again. I’ll see you at seven.”
 
Sarah nodded. “Looking forward to it.”
 
As she watched Lincoln walk away, her heart raced. Did that just happen? She peered at the faces around her table and locked in on Jessica’s gaze. She was flashing Sarah an excited grin, and Sarah blushed. I know, she mouthed, making Jessica laugh. Thank goodness she’d changed her mind about coming to the breakfast. The excitement gurgling around in her stomach was more than she could ask for. She now had something to look forward to this holiday season after all.

Buy links:
https://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Meadow-Anaiah-Romance-Novella-ebook/dp/B07K6XLK8B

​Author Bio and Contact Links
Katy Eeten is the wife of a youth pastor and mother of two school-age boys. She lives with her family in southeast Wisconsin, despite her dislike of cold weather. She works full time in the business world, but her true passion is writing. Katy’s newest release is her holiday novella, Christmas in Meadow Creek. She’s also published Contemporary Christian Romance Blast From Her Past and has another novel, A Heart Held Captive, due out next spring. When she’s not working or writing, she can be found taking walks, baking goodies, dining out, or spending time with her family.
 
To connect with Katy, find her on social media at the below links.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KatyEeten/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/KatyEeten
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/KatyEeten/
Website: https://katyeeten.wordpress.com/
 

​2018 was a hard year. We lost wonderful relatives, jobs, and at the worst of it- hope. Still, we always try to look on the bright side and find ways to bring joy into our lives. So this past Thanksgiving we wanted nothing more than to be thankful for everything and everyone in our lives and to make it a cheerful event. We had all the traditional food and added in some Sangria which those that didn’t drive guzzled up. With Sangria in hand we all talked about funny things that happened during the past year and one topic that came up was chicken butts. Now, you may think- what!? Backstory- we raise chickens and this past summer we added four new hens to the flock. Well, these hens are different from our other hens in that they are so fluffy especially around their belly and butt. Believe me, you feel it when you pick them up. I never felt anything so fluffy in my life. I felt like Agnes from Despicable me when she talks about the unicorn and how it’s so fluffy she could die. Except in this case it’s a chicken not a unicorn.
Of course no one in the family believed us so it had to be proven. So we went to the coop and picked one out and brought her inside. Everyone took turns rubbing her belly and cute fluffy butt. She was confused as to what was going on but she was okay with it since we handle all of the hens a lot (helps a lot when they are sick or injured because they are not afraid of us). Everyone agreed that chicken butts are very fluffy and the term “Pass the chicken” took on a whole new meaning.
 
This story didn’t make it to any of my books...yet but our rooster Twitter is mentioned in my story ‘Gargoyle’s Sky’ in the ‘Heart of a Hunk’ boxed set. 

Romance doesn’t take time off for the holidays, and neither should you. 
Amidst all the chaos of the upcoming holiday season, be sure to snatch up your copy of this compilation. Hunky heroes from all walks of life will fill your eReader. From blue collar to white, from the quiet to the demanding. Allow yourself the treat of sinking into these mouth-watering delights. 
Regardless of your favorite romance trope, this set has something for everyone and will warm up your winter nights.
 
Excerpt from Gargoyle’s Sky, one of the stories in Heart of a Hunk
"I need a glass of wine. Do you want a glass?" Kenzie's hushed voice asked him. He twisted around and felt all the breath leave his lungs.
She had just finished taking a shower, so her hair was damp and hung loosely around her shoulders. He itched to touch her, feel that silky skin of hers. He had a few flings after she left, but they were all just to blow off some sexual energy. None of them really meant anything to him, not like Kenzie did.
"I'd like to check your wounds first."
She shook her head and wrapped the terry cloth robe tighter around her. "You really don't need to, Nathan. They are healing."
"Did you put fresh dressings on them?"
"No, I was going to let them air dry overnight."
"But Wiley said..."
"I'm fine, Nathan," she told him gently. Her eyes captivated him so much he could barely listen to her words.
He stalked up to her, wanting to grab her and throw her over his knee for a good spanking. It might make her listen to him for once, but he knew that would probably arouse her... and him. "You'll be fine when you listen to doctor's orders."
"Wiley's over-reacting."
He moved to tower over her and reached out to touch her porcelain  skin. He instantly regretted the action as a jolt of electricity traveled down his arm and hit him in the groin, causing an instant erection. "Why do you fight me?" His voice was hoarse, laced with desire.
"I...." Her eyes began to darken.
His fingers threaded into the wet strands of her golden hair. The liquid covered his hands and dripped down into his sleeve sending shivers through his body. How many times had he made love to her in the shower? The water would roll down her body and he would lick it away and make her thrust herself against his aroused body.
He leaned in, his lips a mere inch away from her ear. "I would never hurt you, Kenzie."
 
Buy Links:
#Books2read - https://books2read.com/b/Heart-of-a-Hunk
#Amazon - http://a.co/d/0RSzwpB
#Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/heart-of-a-hunk
#Nook – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heart-of-a-hunk-nicole-morgan/1129837843?ean=294016193900

D. Anne Paris began conjuring up stories even before she could put words on paper. When other kids in her class submitted stories about their vacations and puppies, she submitted ones that had to be blessed by a priest.
 
The paranormal has always called out to her and she’s usually the one that’s running into haunted houses and graveyards. She strongly believes Halloween should be a national holiday and everyone should have a favorite paranormal hero or heroine.
 
When not in the writing cave D.Anne can be found in the garage working on her first love- her Trans Am, or working on her blueberry farm.  She is the wife of one hot Silver Fox and the mom of one mini salesman who tries to convince his friend's mothers to buy her books.  
 
You can find connect with her through these channels.
 
FB Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/authordanneparis
Email: author@danneparis.com
Website:http://www.danneparis.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15108261.D_Anne_Paris
Twitter: https://twitter.com/danneparis
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/authordanneparis/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/d-anne-paris
Triberr: https://triberr.com/DAnneParis
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/D.-Anne-Paris/e/B01DB8C2TE
 
Social Media:
Not sure how to share Facebook posts but here is my Facebook page- https://www.facebook.com/authordanneparis/

​When I began the Bringer of Chaos series, it was a given that the immortal hero, Pietas, and his twin sister mistrusted one another. As I wrote, the reason came to me, and I made the most of their mutual dislike in writing the first book. But in the second, they reconciled. Their relationship changed. That didn't mean their argumentative spirits went away. Arguing with a sibling is different from arguing with a friend. You have a kind of shorthand with siblings. You've known them all your life. You know which buttons to push and just when to push them. Some of those arguments become memorable exchanges. "Remember that time..." I drew on that experience to write the following scene between Pietas and Dessy in Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire.
Pietas and his twin sister have just reconciled after more than 1500 years of misunderstandings and mistrust. He is eager to share an opinion with her but needs them to be alone to do it.

After grasping Dessy's hand, Pietas set off into the forest with her in tow. Low branches slapped wet leaves in his face. Moisture dripped. Insects buzzed. The stink of wood rot made him sneeze.
"Tas, where are we going?"
"Nowhere. I have to think."
"We need to get back. The others are--"
"Hang the others! I need to think and I want you with me." He darted around slender trees and through breaks in the undergrowth, tugging his sister along behind him. In a small clearing, he slowed and then halted.
Birds fluttered among the branches. The rain-washed forest gave up the scent of spores mixed with flowers and damp wood.
"There's something out there." Dessy released his hand and turned outward, scanning the forest. "I can't hear it or smell it, but I sense it. One of those black cats is stalking us. We need to go back."
"Watching."
"What? What is it?" She looked up and around. "I don't see anything but trees."
"Not me. It's that panther I told you about yesterday." It had tracked him halfway across the planet. "It's not stalking us. It's watching. Guarding."
"Tas, you've been through a lot. You're overtired and overwrought, but I promise you, no animal talked to you. Not yesterday and not today."

​"Dess, I didn't talk to it! It communicated, but not with speech. Telepathic. Like Joss. She can tell you in words, but also concepts. You know what she wants from you."
"Okay. Let's say for the sake of argument there's a big kitty cat out there and it's guarding us. Why? Is it guarding us from other cats so it can eat us itself?"
"Don't be absurd."
She gestured to herself. "I'm absurd? You're the one talking to cats."
"I am not--" He stopped, reining in the impatience his sister always fostered. He took a deep breath, let it out, did it again for good measure. "I'm not talking to cats and I'm not talking to you about talking to cats. Is that clear?"
"Fine." She cast a pleading look toward the heavens. "Let's agree the kitty cat's guarding us. Why are we out here in the forest?"
"If it's true that Father wanted us to be exiled, then there has to be a good reason. It's not the kind of thing he'd decide on a whim. When has he ever done anything without a plan?"
"I'll admit, never. Then what is he planning?"
"When native people sign a treaty and are driven from their land, they don't get a better deal. They get less. They get the discards no one wants. Vast grasslands with no cattle and no crops. Barren deserts. Endless mountains covered in eternal snow. Here we are, stuck on Sempervia, the last planet on the rim of the galaxy. Not even fully terraformed. They gave up on it. This is where they shunt the outcasts. Us. Sempervia's what we get in exchange for a treaty."
"Treaty? We didn't sign a treaty."
"You're right. We didn't."

About Bringer of Chaos: Forged in FireWhen the immortal Pietas is marooned on a barren world with no food and few survival tools, he knows it could be worse. He could be alone. But that's the problem. He's not.
Half a million of his people sleep in cryostasis, trapped inside their pods and it's up to Pietas to free them. He can't release one at a time. It's all or nothing. He's facing over five hundred thousand hungry, thirsty, homeless immortals who will call on him for rescue and he has no way to answer.
It's not all bad. The beautiful telepathic warrior he's loved for lifetimes is at his side. He's bonded with a sentient panther. He hates humans but the one dumped on this planet with him has become a trusted friend.
Before Pietas can build shelter, figure out how to grow food, or set up a government, he must take back command from a ruthless enemy he's fought for centuries. His brutal, merciless father.
Immortals may heal, but a wound of the heart lasts forever...
Amazon and in print. Free on Kindle Unlimited
http://amzn.to/2ABIcCI
​
Kayelle Allen writes Sci Fi with misbehaving robots, mythic heroes, role playing immortal gamers, and warriors who purr. She's a US Navy veteran who's been married so long she's tenured.
Website https://kayelleallen.com
Sci Fi /or/ Sci Fi Romance Reader Groups http://kayelleallen.com/reader-groups/
Twitter http://twitter.com/kayelleallen
Facebook http://facebook.com/kayelleallen.author
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/kayelleallen/
Amazon Author page http://amazon.com/author/kayelleallen
​