Seeing Red – family will be family!

There’s nothing like meeting a date’s family to spice up a meal. While some members are on best behavior, siblings often add to the tension by provoking their brother or sister.

In Seeing Red, Quentin hasn’t brought Emma around to meet his family because of his lousy track record with women. He already knows he’s crazy about her. If his family likes her, he might ask her to marry him and Lord knows he doesn’t want to do that, not with four failed engagements hanging around his neck. So, when his step-sister Lucy invites Emma to the Sunday family meal, Quentin is … well, you’ll see.

Here’s an excerpt from SEEING RED:

Emma parked her Saturn behind a white Toyota on the city street. The address Lucy had given her was in a quiet Baltimore neighborhood with immaculate lawns. The huge two-story house would make a perfect bed and breakfast, she mused.

With confidence, she strode to the door and rang the bell. Quentin would be so thrilled that she could afford to hire his company now. She couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.

A brawny fellow with Quentin’s chin opened the door. He swooped her into a big bear hug. “You’re my birthday present, right?”

She shrieked in alarm. “Put me down. I’m Emma Heartly, Lucy’s friend. I’m expected.”

His luminous brown eyes twinkled at her. “I know exactly who you are, but I couldn’t help myself once I saw you. No wonder my big brother is going crazy. You are one hot-looking babe.”

She laughingly tried to bat away his arm, which seemed to have become glued to her shoulder. “I’m no babe. And yes, I am also a friend of Quentin’s.”

“What’s that perfume you’re wearing? I’ve never smelled anything so good in all my life.”

She angled her head up at him to see if he was pulling her leg. From his rapturous expression, he seemed truly enchanted with her appearance. “Uh, I have no idea. My sisters dressed me. One of them spritzed me on my way out the door.”

“Who is it, John? Are you and Harrison boxing in the foyer again?” a female voice called from another room.

“Nope. It isn’t Harrison, Jeanie. It’s a knock-out redhead.”

Emma cringed inwardly. Oh dear. Had her sisters made her look like a fashion model? She’d wanted to surprise Quentin, but from the way his brother reacted, the surprise was on her. She reached for the doorknob. “I can’t do this. I’m a fraud, John. Please give my regrets to Lucy. I need to go home.”

He planted a beefy hand on her shoulder, turning her around. “Now, now. There’s no reason to bolt. My family will skin me alive for scaring you off. Come on in.”

With that, he maneuvered her deliberately into the family room. She reached deep for courage. Why had she ever thought a surprise would be a good idea? She didn’t like surprises. Quentin wouldn’t like this one either.

A wall of faces surrounded her. Quentin’s stepmother, Dottie, wore a red scarf. Jeanie had a sparkling engagement ring. Alf looked like a young James Dean with his black attire. Tabby was the bubbly blonde.

Where was Quentin?

Her heart pounded in her throat. She searched the room for exits.

“Come sit by me,” Lucy said, patting the sofa next to her.

“No, wait.” John slung an arm over her shoulder. “Do you like baseball?”

“I’ve heard of the sport.” Her statement loosened a torrent of information on the subject of baseball. She squirmed under the weight of his arm. Her brain struggled with RBIs and at-bats.

Quentin strolled in, and all conversations ceased. His gaze connected with Emma’s. His forward momentum halted.

Expectation vibrated through the air. Her skin tingled. The silence lengthened. She’d surprised him all right.

She’d rendered him mute.

That thought brought her a small measure of joy. Mister know-it-all didn’t know everything. She smiled brightly. “Hello, Quentin.”

He glided across the room, knocking John’s arm off her shoulder in one swift move. “What are you doing here?”

His entire family burst into laughter. She frowned at his relatives. “Lucy invited me. Would you rather I leave?”

He caught her hand. “You’re not leaving here dressed like that. Who did this to you?”

She tried to take a step back, but there was nowhere to go. “Good grief. You’re embarrassing me. Now your whole family thinks something’s wrong with the real me.”

He scowled. “Anyone who is rude to Emma will answer to me.”

John leaned lazily against the wall. “I’ve never seen you like this, big brother.”

“You were right.” Lucy gave her a hug. “Quentin is snarly around you. No wonder he kept you to himself. I can’t wait to watch you make him behave.”

Lucy had lost her mind. Emma couldn’t make Quentin do anything. She couldn’t even make the lump in her throat go away. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t go,” Quentin said in a deep rumbling voice.

–

This full length sweet romance is available for 99 cents at online sites.

Buy it now at:   Kindle  Smashwords Barnes and Noble

Wishing everyone a most blessed Christmas and a happy new year!

Maggie Toussaint

www.maggietoussaint.com

http://mudpiesandmagnolias.blogspot.com/

author of romance and mystery

OTHER TITLES: House of Lies, No Second Chance, Muddy Waters, In for a Penny, On the Nickel. COMING SOON: Death, Island Style and Murder in the Buff

Want more of Seeing Red? Another excerpt at www.maggietoussaint.com and reviews.

Two Wrongs by Morgan Mandel

   

Two Wrongs by Morgan Mandel

Two Wrongs was my first book published, in 2006, and I’m happy to re-release it now on Kindle and Smashwords at the more reasonable 99 cent price for today’s economy.

Two Wrongs is a mystery with romance, set in Chicago where I grew up, in the days when Marshall Field’s was still Field’s, and Chicago basketball was king. Included are Field’s references, such as the Big Tree at Christmastime and ice cream snowmen in the Walnut Room, as well as Frango mints. You’ll find DePaul University, Chase Park, St. Vincent DePaul Church, and other Chicago landmarks also sprinkled in. 

What it’s about:

Mix a Charles Bronson two-sided revenge theme, John Grisham court scene, Danielle Steel 2nd chance at love ADD Chicago and Marshall Field’s at Christmastime – you’ll get some idea about this book.

An innocent girl is slain. Her brother knows who did it – or does he?

A tale of vengeance and the healing power of love -

Kevin loses his cool when Mary Alice turns him down for the prom. Her brother, Danny, hears them argue. Later that night Mary Alice lies dead in the alley. Danny is determined to make Kevin pay, but did he do it? Prison can turn the most innocent human being into a killer.

Excerpt – Chapter 29

“Danny, can you hear me?”

She bent so close he could smell her perfume—a scent which had driven him over the edge. This was not Cathy. He lay helpless, again in her power. What would she do to him?

Footsteps approached.

“I’ve found him,” her voice called out to the new arrival.

Someone tried to move him.

“Answer me, Danny boy. Can you hear me?” Tony’s voice floated up. “Hey, man, just nod if you understand. That’s all I ask.”

Okay, he could do that. Cautiously, Danny moved his head, but a gong clanged inside.

“Okay, he’s still with us. Dora, stay here. I’ll get the car.”

Dora sat beside Danny, holding his head in her lap, brushing her soft fingers through his hair. He sighed at the soothing feeling. He’d missed the touch of a woman, especially this one. He shouldn’t allow her to do this, but it felt wonderful. He’d been so alone. Each soft stroke dulled the roaring pain.

Then he was lifted up and carried. He found himself resting in the back seat of a car, with his aching head cuddled in Dora’s lap. He wanted to stay there forever. Dora was strong. He needed her.

There had always been a link between them. Out of respect for Cathy, he’d denied it. Now he hadn’t the strength to fight it.

On Kindle at  http://tinyurl.com/7whvzkj

On Smashwords at: http://smashwords.com/books/view/113202

Thanks for letting me share.

Morgan Mandel

Divorce, Interrupted

Do I like controversy? Um, not really. Not really, a lot. When I set out to write Divorce, Interrupted I just wanted to write a story a little outside the box. A story that might not be looked at by my small e-publisher, but only because they don’t do married couples with problems or divorced spouses working on their problems.

I was unprepared for the emails commenting on how I took a very tough subject like infidelity and made it work. How I was sensitive to the delicate subject I was writing about. Wow! I hadn’t planned that at all. For the record, my husband knows if he ever cheated he wouldn’t be able to run far enough, fast enough, to escape my wrath. But I felt with Todd and Lisa like they did still love each other and there might just be hope for a new happily-ever-after for them. We write fiction because then, anything is possible.

Excerpt: Lisa is cleaning up the wedding cake topper she threw against the wall and shattered.

Lisa walked to the trash bin and dumped the contents of the dustpan. Todd winced as the tinkle of pieces of the cake topper hit the bottom. Kind of like their marriage; in pieces and thrown away in the garbage.

“We could hike to the highway, catch a ride.” He sat up and turned toward his ex. “It’s only about seven miles, give or take.”

Lisa smiled at him. “We could do that.”

As if to shatter their hopes of escape as she had shattered the figurine, lightning flashed blindingly through the bay window, followed instantly by the roar of thunder marking the storm as overhead. Rain began to pelt the roof. Todd turned to view a waterfall coming from the roof onto the ground in front of the porch.

“Shit.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Lisa added. “Now what do we do?”

Todd walked to the window. “We wait. How long can it rain?

His ex gasped and rushed to the dining-room table. She strode toward him with a piece of newspaper crumpled in her tightened fists.

He pried her hands off the paper. Their fingers touched and Todd jumped back as the old spark flared between them. He turned his back on her and smoothed out the page.

Possibility of Flooding in Lake County Certain glared at him from the headline.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“Exactly,” Lisa added, over his shoulder.

Her sweet breath tickled his neck. His face heated up as he moved away from Lisa. He couldn’t do this. A whole weekend trapped in this cabin with the only woman he loved as much as he hated her. They said love and hate were two sides of the same coin, and he believed it.

Todd slapped the paper, the sound lost in the cacophony outside and on the roof. He needed to move. Cabin fever was already setting in and he had only been here moments. All the times before, they had the outdoors for an escape. Boating, fishing, catching butterflies with Michelle or tadpoles with Michael. His mind played a family movie of good times together.

His gaze skittered over Lisa, her hands wrapped tight around her body. Just like the marriage ended, the happy family time movie ended in his thoughts. How could he be so mad, angry and hurt over her affair and see her for a few minutes and want her so badly?

He was screwed. He still loved the woman who betrayed him

Available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords

Addie and the Gunslinger-by Celia Yeary

Addie and the Gunslinger

Blurb

 Ex-gunslinger Jude Morgan lands in jail in a far-flung West Texas town. On the fourth day in his cell, the sheriff arrives with a beautiful woman dressed in men’s pants and toting her own six-shooter. Adriana Jones claims he is her worthless husband who married her but never came home.

The young woman makes a bargain with Jude in front of the sheriff. Jude is to come home where he belongs, and she will have him released. When they’re alone, she explains his job is to pose as her husband to thwart the marriage advances of her neighbor, wealthy rancher Horace Caruthers. The older man wants her ranch to join his, because the Pecos River runs through her property.

To seal the bargain, Jude wants a kiss. During the next few weeks, however, Jude and Addie learn that the kiss meant more than they meant it to be. Then, Addie’s life is in danger. Will Jude rescue his Addie? Or will Addie save herself and her gunslinger?

1st Mini- Excerpt:

“Ever been kissed, Miss Jones?” Wanting to loosen her up, he tried teasing, but it didn’t seem to work.

Her voice trembled a little. “That is none of your business. I don’t intend our relationship to be at all personal. You just come and go, do your job, and pay no attention to me.”

Chuckling under his breath, he thought, like hell.

2cd Mini-Excerpt

Before she kicked her horse into a gallop, she lifted her chin and said, “You need a bath, Mr. Morgan.”

“Addie. It’s Jude.”

“Jude. You need a bath.”

 BUY LINK:

http://www.amazon.com/Addie-and-the-Gunslinger-ebook/dp/B006LXB6GW/ref=sr_1_13?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1324161074&sr=1-13

Celia Yeary-Romance…and a little bit ‘o Texas  
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com
http://www.celiayeary.com

http://sweetheartsofthewest.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Celia-Yeary-Author/208687145867971             

HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS…

And what’s better as a gift to yourself than a 99 cent e-book? Take a break from all the festivities and planning and relax with one of our books!

At this time of year I’m as bad as any child. I love the Christmas season. Our tree and lights went up Thanksgiving afternoon so we could turn them on that evening, thanks to my husband. He is the gift I’m most thankful for all year!

Was it at Christmastime or another season that the idea for BE MY GUEST came? I honestly don’t remember, but it was on one of the gazillion trips we made between our home in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex to visit parents in Lubbock in West Texas. Believe me, we traveled that route so often we knew when a rancher or farmer painted his barn or house or got a new truck. We even knew when the mercury vapor light salesman made it through the area.

Let me tell you about BE MY GUEST…

BE MY GUEST is a romance with suspense. Aurora O’Shaughnessy is her way from Houston to buy a gift shop in Colorado. She’s vibrant and outgoing redhead, but a woman in control, a woman with a plan to which she expects to adhere no matter who or what might tempt her from her charted path. Yes, she’s a control freak. No falling head over heels for her! No sireee, she is going to be a successful businesswoman before she lets herself become involved with any man. But fate doesn’t always follow our plans, does it? Not enough that two ruffians almost hijacked her and her car outside Snyder. As she’s driving from the West Texas town of Snyder toward Post in a torrential downpour, her car is washed off the highway. Not to be defeated, she lugs her suitcase, her attache case holding her laptop, and trudges along the raised railway bed toward–she hopes–the town of Post. But then that huge snake frightens her and…

Rancher Will Harrison is a widower with a young daughter, Kelly. Kelly and Will’s other relatives have banded together to get him back in circulation. He isn’t cooperating…not until he meets Aurora in a restaurant in Snyder. He has to admit he’s more than a little attracted and thought she shared the sparks, only to see her shut down and disappear. Too late he realizes that his wedding band misled her and she must have thought him a cheating philanderer. When she reappears that evening, drenched from the storm that’s isolated his ranch, her rescue is hampered by Will’s broken leg. He’s a true hero, though, and successfully saves Aurora from the rushing floodwaters. They’re cut off from the world for 36 hours, long enough for Will to decide to change her mind and keep her in his life forever.

Yes, that’s model Jimmy Thomas of www.romancenovelcovers.com posing as Will Harrison. Actually, Will (in my head) has lighter hair. I took the Texas wildflower photo behind Jimmy one spring. My sweet husband integrated the two photos for the cover.

Here’s an excerpt from BE MY GUEST:

The clock on the dashboard displayed one o’clock when Aurora found herself free to concentrate on lunch in Snyder. Clouds gathered and rumbled with thunder over the West Texas town. Aurora’s empty stomach rumbled with them. After a hazardous morning, fatigue overshadowed her usually cheerful nature. She passed by the fast food places before she spotted the family restaurant recommended by the Texas State Trooper a few minutes ago.

Cars and trucks filled the parking lot. What a lucky break, she thought, when she spotted illuminated taillights and a car backed out of the prime parking slot at the entrance. Aurora saw the lone man in the dusty red pickup truck facing her, waiting for the space. He sat in the very same type and color truck used by two ruffians who had terrorized her earlier in the morning. Although she knew this man could not be one of those two men, an unreasonable anger bubbled up in her directed toward all cowboys, especially those in red trucks.

Her normally pleasant nature turned aggressive and she zipped the Mustang into the vacated park before the less maneuverable truck could occupy the space. The man honked the truck horn at her as she got out of her car. She just smiled and blew him a saucy kiss as she hurried into the restaurant. After all, any real gentleman would have let a lady have the only space in the first place, she told her nagging conscience.

Her conscience would not be quieted so easily. She must be in shock from her morning encounter. Never had she acted so rudely. Regretting her impetuous actions already, she thanked goodness the exchange occurred with a stranger and not someone she might meet again.

Seated in the corner booth, Aurora ordered a hamburger, French fries, and a large Dr Pepper. While she waited for her food, she reviewed the items listed under the town of Snyder in her Texas guidebook. Suddenly, she sensed someone standing beside her booth. As she looked up–and up–a huge cowboy with most of his left leg in a cast leaned his crutches against the side of the booth. He slid onto the seat beside her, which pinned her in the booth with him.

Aurora scooted to the right as far as possible. “Hey, who do you think you are? This is my booth, and no one invited you to share it with me!”

“Your car’s sitting in my parking space, so I’ll sit in your booth,” he said calmly as he removed his Stetson and ran his fingers through sandy brown hair. He turned in his seat to hang the hat on the hook at the end of the booth by his crutches.

Aurora blushed when she realized this must be the man whose parking space she mischievously stole. Oh no, how terrible. He must have had to park a long way from the door and hobble in on those crutches. How embarrassing. The one time in her life she acted rudely, her victim turned out to be a man handicapped by a leg cast and crutches. Still, he had his nerve sitting beside her without so much as a “may I.”

Her chin came up defensively. “Okay, I apologize. If you used one of those disability placards on your rear view mirror, people would know you have a problem.”

“Lady, my problem is that you stole my parking space,” Will Harrison said coolly. He lifted his left leg so that the cast-encased foot rested on the seat facing them, then swiveled to gaze at her.

Aurora smelled the cowboy’s after-shave mixed with the clean scent of his breath when he turned his face toward her. His stone gray eyes met hers. She saw anger drain from his eyes, replaced by stunned amazement. He leaned toward her.

Her awakened senses rocketed into response. Each thread on the sleeve of his blue chambray shirt seared where it touched her arm. For a moment Aurora had the astonishing thought that this cowboy might lean further forward and kiss her right here in public. Equally astonishing, but fleeting, came the thought that she wouldn’t mind a kiss from this man. Her tongue flicked across her lips and she gave herself a mental shake, unable to turn away from his mesmerizing gaze.

What can you be thinking? You have absolutely no business falling for some good-looking cowboy out here in the middle of nowhere. Get a grip on yourself.

Her heart quelled the voice of reason within her mind. Aurora’s her stomach somersaulted from butterflies to flip-flops as she stared into the cowboy’s wide gray eyes. She broke his gaze and peered at her folded hands a second before she threw them up in capitulation.

“Okay, Okay. I just don’t know what came over me. I know you saw the parking space first, but I’m on Bubba-overload. Look, it’s a long story, but it’s been a real killer morning. Once again, I apologize and plead temporary insanity” She placed her hands palms down on the table.

His gaze raked over her, and one eyebrow elevated. “Well, well. I’m almost convinced there’s remorse here. Almost–but not quite. Would you like to explain to me what ‘Bubba-overload’ is and what it has to do with me?”

“Listen, I apologized. Let’s just drop it. Okay?” Surprised at the petulant tone in her voice, she adjusted the dark green scarf that held the hair back from her face

The man peered at her steadily, his voice polite but firm when he spoke. “No, ma’am, we can’t drop it. I think I deserve an explanation after that ‘Bubba’ line. It sounded very much like an insult to me.”

This man obviously had his hackles up and wanted a full explanation. After her morning’s adventures, she found herself impatient with this cowboy, even though her mind recognized his request sounded reasonable. Finally, Aurora swiveled at her waist to face him as much as the limited space allowed. “Oh, well, if you insist. You wore that western hat and were in a pickup truck. At a glance, you looked like the typical red-necked Bubba. All you lacked was a big wad of tobacco bulging in your cheek.”

She raised her hand and shook a finger at the man as if he were a delinquent school boy. “Listen, I’ve had my fill, and then some, with you guys. You follow me, whistle at me, lean out a truck window to sing to me, shout, or wave to me. I even receive various very rude gestures and get mooned. Believe it or not, I do nothing either to initiate or encourage any of this behavior.”

A skeptical smile appeared and he raised his eyebrows. A flush of color heated her face at the memory of her behavior in the parking lot. She held up one hand to stop any comment he might make before she continued.

“Oh, I know, I acted brashly with you outside just now. Let me assure you, that’s entirely unlike me. In fact, it’s truly a first. I’ve never, ever done anything like that before.”

She shook her head in wonder. “I don’t know what came over me. As I said, it must have been temporary insanity due to Bubba-overload.”

She pinched the fabric on the leg of the neatly creased blue denim jeans she wore. “Look at me. My jeans aren’t skin-tight. They’re not painted on me.” With a tug at the hem of her hunter-green knit top, she added, “My shirt isn’t too tight, it has three-quarter sleeves, and the neck isn’t low or revealing.”

Aurora moved her knees and elevated a foot to display canvas shoes. “I’m wearing my little Keds, not flashy pumps with stiletto heels. All in all, I think I’m dressed very sedately and not at all in a provocative way.”

The cowboy slid his glance slowly up and down her then back to her face before he smiled a slow, lazy smile that lit up his eyes and brought a dimple to his cheek. He reached over to grasp her untouched water glass and took a drink from it, his eyes returning to her face as he sipped the icy water.

Her own mouth opened as she watched his mouth against the rim of the glass. The tip of her pink tongue slid against her upper lip as the water slid into his mouth. She could almost feel his lips as they received the liquid. To hide the rising turbulence in the pit of her stomach, Aurora glared at him. In vain she tried to avoid thoughts of his stare or the dimple that appeared with his smile.

She forced herself to concentrate on her defense. “Um, I just drive along in my little blue Ford Mustang, enjoying the scenery and minding my own business. I do nothing to call attention to myself. I even try to be a good sport about the immature behavior some guys display.”

She took a deep breath. “I try to take it all in stride and just keep on schedule but”–Aurora slammed her hands against the top of the table–”this morning, two very frightening Bubbas tried to run me off the highway and hijack me or my car.”

His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, but she continued, “I’m only here because a State Trooper happened by in time to interrupt my abduction. Frankly, that scared the life out of me. The longer I thought about it, though, the angrier I became. By the time I got to this restaurant, I had completely lost my cool.”

Aurora took a deep breath and gazed at her hands. She recalled the fright that consumed her when she realized the two men followed her. Only quick thinking on her part prevented the two ruffians from succeeding at their attempt to run her off the road and get her out of her car. She shuddered to think what might have happened if not for the State Trooper. And never, never would she forget the faces of those two men!

She waved her hands in a fluttery motion. “When I saw you in a truck the same color as the one that ran me off the road…well…I guess I just went bananas, berserk, crazy. That’s why I’m pleading temporary insanity.” Aurora leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her.

At this moment the waitress appeared with their food. Aurora stared in amazement as the waitress set the burger, fries and Dr Pepper in front of her and a duplicate of the order in front of the man beside her.

The waitress flashed what she probably thought of as her most seductive smile at the man. In a low, honeyed voice, she asked, “Anything else today, Will?”

He seemed unaware of the invitation in her voice or the hopeful sparkle in her eyes. “Not right now, Norma Sue, thanks. Go ahead and leave the check now and save yourself time.”

When the disappointed waitress left, Aurora appraised Will. How could he fail to notice the waitress’ blatant invitation? Had he any idea how attractive he was? Hold on, this guy might be too good to be true.

Aurora gazed over he shoulder at the departing waitress. “How on earth did she know what to bring you? When did you give her your order?”

“When I came in.” He leaned across her to get the salt and pepper. Will paused to flash her a truly breathtaking smile and the bottom fell out of her stomach again. “I also told her you would pick up the check.”

Buy links for BE MY GUEST are:

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/BE-MY-GUEST-ebook/dp/B004M8T1EC/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1323632473&sr=1-3

Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/36811?ref=CarolineClemmons

You can find me elsewhere on the web at

http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com

www.carolineclemmons.com

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/CarolineClemmonsRomances

Twitter @CarolinClemmons (no E in Caroline)

Goodreads and LinkedIn

Thanks for stopping by today! Keep reading our books, please!

Hot romance, suspense and a touch of humor

In Wild for You (Tropical Heat Series, Book One), Marisol Calderon’s carefree lifestyle comes to a halt when an anonymous stalker begins to terrorize her with increasingly menacing threats. The only bright side to her suddenly dismal situation is Clay Blackthorne, the hot, brooding detective who is lethally strong and resolute in protecting her. From their first meeting, hard-edged Detective Clay Blackthorne is blindsided by his instant attraction to lively Marisol Calderon, yet he’s honor bound by a promise to her older brother to protect her without letting her know what he’s up to. Hot romance, suspense and a touch of humor spice up this love story between two opposites who never expected to fall in love. Wild for You is on three Amazon  bestseller lists.

Buy: Kindle: http://amzn.to/tfQCeF Nook: ttp://bit.ly/sjZKUS

Blurb: To Love, Honor, and Protect
Detective Clay Blackthorne has his hands full when he promises to safeguard an old college pal’s sister without letting her know what he’s up to. He never imagines that lively Marisol Calderon will knock his socks off and put a ring on his finger—and all at his suggestion! Their marriage of convenience is meant to protect her and Clay doesn’t plan on being hitched for long to the tempting beauty. But the honeymoon sure feels real to him…
Sassy Marisol is used to doing whatever she wants—and right now her plan is to shake up the hot detective’s hard-edged demeanor. But the fun turns to danger when a mystery stalker bent on marrying her marks her as his prey. Temporarily becoming Clay’s wife seems like a practical way to thwart the stalker. But as passion ignites and Marisol falls for the tender heart buried beneath the tough detective’s chest, Clay’s true identity is revealed and she begins to wonder who—if anyone—she can trust…

Excerpt from later in Chapter One:

        Clay’s sunglasses fogged up when he got in the steamy interior of the car, but he smiled wryly at the real reason for misty sunglasses—his recent session with the cute blonde. During the shampoo, his body had reacted instantly to Marisol’s round breasts hovering mere inches from his face. He’d closed his eyes, but all that charm packaged in a petite figure was too tantalizing to ignore, even with his eyes shut.
        From the minute he’d set eyes on her, Marisol had bombarded his senses like a warm, bright ray of sunshine. Her lilting Argentine accent was melodious and damn sexy. Clay’s sex stirred at the hot memory of her pulse-pounding little strut and then he stopped cold. Knock it off. Marcos asked you to watch over his kid sister, not seduce her, he reminded himself.
        A sexy, but naïve kid sister, he added wryly. Marisol might be good at running her business, but in her personal life, she was naïve. She’d agreed to go out with him too readily, without knowing who he was. Sure, she’d asked a few questions, but for someone getting anonymous flowers and messages from a potential stalker, she was too damned trusting.
        Marcos wouldn’t be happy to hear about it, Clay thought as he reached for his iPhone to call him. He glanced at his watch—four hours left before he was to meet her at the salon.

        Clay returned to Marisol’s salon that evening and almost mistook the receptionist, Laila, for Marisol as she locked the front door of the salon. There was a striking similarity in their hairstyles and coloring, but the resemblance ended there. When he reached her side, Clay noticed Laila had a fuller figure and was taller than Marisol.
        “Where’s Marisol?” he asked.
        “Ack!” Laila whirled around with a hand on her heaving chest. “You scared me. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she said, staring at his feet. “I didn’t even hear you walk up!”
        “I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I’m Clay Blackthorne,” he said, smiling so she’d calm down. She was probably skittish because of Marisol’s anonymous messages and gifts.
        Laila gave him a small, hesitant smile. “I remember you were here this afternoon.”
        “That’s right. Marisol and I made plans for dinner. Is she inside?”
        “No. Uhm.” Laila’s brown eyes flickered uneasily. “Marisol left about fifteen minutes ago with a terrible migraine. She said she was going to run an errand before going home to lie down.”
        “Did she leave a message for me?” he asked, exasperated by the obvious—Marisol had changed her mind and stood him up.
Laila nodded. “She said she’d take a rain check on dinner with you.”
        “All right, I’ll come by tomorrow. Thanks for the message.”
Clay drove directly to Marisol’s apartment, thinking if he hurried, he might intercept her at the door and get some answers. She’d been too lively earlier to suddenly have such a bad headache that she had to go home and lie down. Why had she stood him up? The thought of foul play nagged at him.
        He stood outside her apartment and jabbed her doorbell several times. No answer. He folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Twenty minutes later, he heard the elevator doors open and shut and then the sound of high heels tapping on the tile floor, signaling Marisol’s arrival.

        When Marisol caught sight of Clay, she turned and headed back to the elevator.
        Clay caught up with her in seconds.
        “What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a step backwards. She lost her balance and landed smack on her behind on the dry cleaning she’d just picked up. Mortified that she’d probably flashed him a good view of her lace panties, she grasped the hem of her short skirt and yanked it down to cover her thighs.
        Clay helped her up. “I work here, remember? Laila told me you canceled because you weren’t feeling well, so I came by to check on you.”
        Goose bumps teased her arm where Clay’s warm, steady hand held her. “Laila told you where I live?” she asked incredulously.
        “She didn’t have to. I know all the tenants’ names.” Still holding her arm, he gently pulled her closer. “Why did you stand me up tonight?” His low, rough-edged voice made her nerves tingle.
        Stepping back from Clay’s unsettling nearness, she winced when pain jabbed her foot. “Ouch. I must’ve twisted my foot when I fell down. My head hurts, too,” she added, so he wouldn’t think she’d made it up. “Didn’t Laila tell you I have a migraine?” She walked to her door, trying not to put pressure on her sore foot.
        “That’s what she said, but you don’t look sick to me.” Clay got to the door before she did and waited, with crossed arms and a challenging look in his intense, dark eyes. “What’s going on?”
        Marisol sighed. Clay didn’t look like he planned on budging from the door until she gave him some answers. “Well, if you must know, the weirdo called me again after you left. I called the police, but nobody there took me seriously. Apparently, the anonymous caller hasn’t done anything illegal until he threatens bodily harm.”
        A muscle ticked in Clay’s jaw. “Unfortunately, it’s true. Even though aggravated stalking is considered a felony in Florida, sending flowers and notes doesn’t constitute a crime unless there’s proof that the person is out to physically harm you.”
        “You sound like the detective I talked to,” she muttered. “Anyway, after that depressing bit of information, I regretted accepting your dinner invitation so impulsively.” She paused and studied his impassive face. “I decided to ask the doorman about you first.”
        “How did I check out?”
        “Pretty good, considering you’re new, but you’ll still have to prove yourself,” she said lightly.
        Clay gave a muffled snort.
        Marisol smiled. “Actually, Alan raved so much about your qualifications, I couldn’t shut him up.”
        “Alan’s a good guy. Aren’t you going to open your door?” he inquired calmly.
        Marisol’s hand fumbled inside her handbag. “I need to clean out this purse.” After a few moments rummaging for her keys, she smiled triumphantly. “Here they are!” When she leaned down to pick up her dry cleaning, her left leg almost buckled when she put weight on her foot. “Whoops. I’d better get off these heels.”
        “Here, lean on me,” Clay said, picking up her dry cleaning and holding his arm out for her.
        “No, thanks. I’ll take that,” she said, taking the plastic bag from him. She waited for him to leave before she unlocked the door.
        “You can’t even stand without hurting your foot. Let me help you inside and I’ll order pizza for us.”
        Marisol started to say no, but her growling stomach won out. “Okay, but only because Alan vouched for you.” She braced her weight on her uninjured foot and opened the door. “Come in.”
        Clay folded the dry cleaning over one arm, and then lifted her in his arms and effortlessly carried her inside.
        “Hello? Aren’t you overdoing it a bit? I can walk you know,” she protested, even though the ride in his strong arms made her pulse race. God, he smelled delicious—the heady mixture of evergreen and maleness sent lusty shivers skittering through her. Her face was close to Clay’s lean jaw and she was sorely tempted to run her finger along the groove next to his mouth just to see it deepen into a dimple. What a beautifully sculpted mouth, she thought, perfect for slow, deep kisses…

White lies and Second chances with humor

NO MORE LIES, Sweet and Spicy, with a sprinkle of humor, 99 cents, http://tinyurl.com/3lenmfd

Please twitt and re-twitt!

To write NO MORE LIES, I asked my sister, a psychiatrist, for help. She refused to talk about her cases but handed me two big volumes of psychiatric cases. “Here, read these, and if you have any questions, let me know.” Apparently, she was serious and expected me to read the medical jargon.

Honestly, I enjoyed the reading and couldn’t believe there were so many nut cases in the world. I chose the lighter ones, those that could be funny in a romance.

NO MORE LIES is based on a real case. The story’s theme revolves around a famous saying by Walter Scott: “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Successful physician and loving mother, Dr. Olivia Crane has no problem listening to the most complicated cases of abuse, but deep down, Olivia fiercely believes youthful mistakes should be kept secret and skeletons are better left in closets. A little white lie can bring a smile while the truth may deeply hurt those she loves.

 When the visiting physician from France strolls into her office, with open arms and a confident smile, her perfect control is about to crumble. He’s Dr. Luc George, the man she loved ten years ago. Should she return his scorching kisses, or should she lock her door before he digs into her many secrets?

Secret daughter, secret friend, secret enemy. Had Luc really known his sweet Olivia back then? He wants her back, but he wants the truth too.

 Excerpt:

Olivia loved her mother to death, but at the moment she wanted to scream her frustration at her beaming Mama. It was obvious Marianna Crane had fallen in love with Luc the moment she’d seen him, or more precisely at the very minute he bent over and kissed the back of her hand with an “Enchanté, madame.”

 “I’m delighted to meet you, Luc. Please have a seat. Where have I put my glasses? Melissa, bring the tray of hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen. Olivia, can you serve the drinks? Luc, what can I get you?”

 Mama bustled with energy, the way she always did before starting a new project. Seeing her fussing around Luc, Olivia was afraid to guess the name of the new project—her mother’s ongoing goal.

 But Olivia was too tired to protest or interfere. Two hours ago, when she’d voiced her panic at the possibility of losing Melissa’s love, Luc had cut short their session. He’d told her she needed to relax now that she’d exteriorized her real fear. They’d continue next week.

 “May I help with the drinks?” Luc offered.

 “Of course. Make yourself at home,” Mama purred.

 Dropping onto one of the overstuffed chairs of the old-fashioned living room, Olivia rested a moment. She liked coming home to her mother’s. The warm aroma of potpourri soothed her rattled nerves. Tonight, the garlic and nutmeg smell of Mama’s masterpiece roast emanated from the kitchen. Her mother had sharpened her tools to conquer their guest.

 Olivia recognized the symptoms. Good dinner, good drinks, good stories. Luc wasn’t going to leave unscathed tonight, not when her mother wanted Luc’s heart for her daughter.

 Mama turned toward her. Eyes narrowed, she signaled to Olivia to follow her into the office. “I need you for a second,” Marianna ordered with a you-failed-big-time look.

 Olivia braced herself for the worst.

 As soon as they stepped into the office, Mama closed the glass double doors behind her, spun around to face Olivia and pointed to the door. “This Luc, is he the French boy you dated when you were in med school?”

 Mama’s scowl promised her lecture was going to be worse than Olivia had expected.

 “And you sent him packing? And you let us believe he was no good? Olivia, are you crazy or what?” Marianna snatched a chocolate from a crystal bowl and popped it into her mouth.

 “Mom!” Olivia scowled and took a step toward the door.

 “Oh no. I have to tell you what I think. Madonna mia, you are a great doctor, but as a smart woman…phht.” Her mother cut the air with her hand. “Any uneducated Italian girl would know that when she meets such a handsome, nice, good-mannered…” Her mother paused for a second to catch her breath and launched again. “Intelligent, famous, wealthy…” She stopped, at a loss for adjectives, and glanced toward the living room for more inspiration.

 “Mom, I get your point.”

 “I’m not finished. He came back. Now you have a second chance. Don’t lose it, girl. For once, listen to your mother and keep him. You understand, Olivia?” Mama threw another chocolate into her mouth and chewed on it, and then clucked her tongue. “Bambina.” Her mother stood on tiptoe to pat her cheek. “Grab him without hesitation.” She tugged at Olivia’s hand and walked toward the door. “I’ll be watching you tonight. I’ll keep Melissa out of the way, and I want to see some action.”

 You can find more books from Mona Risk at:

www.monarisk.com

www.monarisk.blogspot.com

Twitter: MonaRiskS

Facebook: Mona Risk, Author

My vampires don’t suck!

Yes, I can hear your groans. Yet another vampire romance. But wait! Mine’s different. My vampires don’t suck! Literally. They do not drink blood. Rather, they infuse themselves with their victim’s (or willing donor’s!) blood by biting the carotid artery. There is sufficient positive pressure in the artery to push that blood into the vampire’s venous system through the vampire’s hollow-tipped, telescoping fangs. Cool, huh?

Even the critics agree my vampires don’t suck:

Award-winning author and Kindle bestseller Lina Gardner says: “I loved Merzetti Effect. The vampire mythology in this story is fresh and interesting. The characters will steal your heart, and have you rooting for them. It’s fast paced, action packed and a must-read!”

The Readin’ Librarian says: “Delano Bowen is a vampire and a medical doctor determined to find a cure for vampirism. Ainsley Crawford is a woman with secrets–those she knows and one she doesn’t. Utilizing familiar vampire tropes, and inventing a few new ones, Wilson gives us a vampire, strong, handsome and with an unbending morality, that we can love. Ainsley is caring and determined to do whatever she needs to protect those she loves…Del included.”

Good Book Alert says: “Vampirism has been interpreted many ways throughout the history of fiction: walking corpses, aliens, mutants, and even the occasional fallen angel. Unlike the vampires of The Merzetti Effect, no one would assume that Dracula could be “cured” of his conditions with a little applied molecular biology. This medical emphasis, though not unique in the history of vampire fiction, did provide a still interesting basis for the plot, which, in turn, helped generate dramatic interest absent some of the other more standard vampire danger elements one tends to see in vampire paranormal romance. In fact, I was surprised at the level of clinical detail and how several of these elements played important roles in the plot. It was a nice touch that helped make the vampirism a bit more interesting than usual.”

Nookmom for Bitten by Paranormal Romance says: “This was not your typical vampire story. Delano Bowen is trying to create a vaccine to protect humans from rogue vampires and possibly find a “cure” to reverse vampirism. The answer lies in the genetic code carried in the blood of one family, thought to be long gone, hunted to extinction.”

Get your copy now and see for yourself. It’s currently priced at 99 cents (75% off), just for this holiday sale. And look for the 2nd book in the series, NIGHTFALL.

Buy links for

Amazon – http://amzn.to/rYATBe

B&N – http://bit.ly/tGf7z2

iTunes:  http://bit.ly/sD6gUk

Devil’s Harvest by Margery Scott

 Blurb:

When surgical resident Taryn Hayes becomes the prime suspect in a renowned physician’s murder, the only person who can help her is Luke Dawson, a private investigator searching for information about a friend’s sudden death. Taryn, a believer in facts, and Luke, a man who trusts his gut instincts, clash as their investigation leads them to a link between the two cases. At the same time, they can’t deny opposites attract. But will they survive long enough to catch a killer before he strikes again, and to find out if their chemistry is merely physical, or something more?

 

Excerpt:

                  Taryn would have recognized him anywhere – the hair a little longer than the current trend, the square jaw — and those eyes, the midnight blue eyes that had bored into hers.
                There was no question about it. It was the same man.
                He’d been waiting for her. And now he was going to kill her, too.
                Taryn raised her hands to push him away. She wasn’t quick enough. He shifted his weight, moved closer.     The hard wall of his body pressed her into the soft leather seat, trapping her hands between them. Beneath her fingers, she felt the play of muscles in his chest.
                He leaned close. His face was only inches from hers. His breath smelled of mint, and coffee. It was warm on her cheek when he spoke. “Take it easy,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
                Sure he won’t, Taryn thought. How many murder victims have heard that line before they ended up buried in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere?
                Don’t panic. Stay calm. Think. Fight.
                She squirmed, shoved against his chest. Tried to connect her foot with any part of him. It was useless. He didn’t budge. In fact, it didn’t seem to take any effort whatsoever to keep her still. And he knew it. He held her, securely but without hurting her, against his body. Waiting, she knew. Knowing that eventually she’d tire herself out.
                The pressure of his hand relaxed until only two fingers rested against her lips. “Shh. Don’t bother screaming. Nobody will hear you.”
                She glared at him. He was right. The parking lot was practically deserted at this time of night. A silver SUV in the back corner, Stan’s maroon convertible straddling the line, as it always did. A few other vehicles belonging to staff who wouldn’t be off duty for another hour or so.
                A faint bass beat drifted through the night air from the radio on the security guard’s desk. She might as well save her breath. He wouldn’t hear her scream.
                She kept fighting. But she was weakening. They both knew it. It was only a matter of time.
                “Stop struggling. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
                True. She was only wearing herself out. So much for all those years of aerobics and weight training.
                She had to think. She needed to save whatever strength she had left. At some point, she’d get her chance to escape. She had to be ready when it came. She nodded slightly, and slumped against the seat.
                “Keep still. Understand?” His voice was low, tense.
                Taryn understood only too well. She was in serious trouble.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon http://amzn.to/ruTxK0

Smashwords  http://bit.ly/pDw0Rc

AllRomance Ebooks  http://bit.ly/ozgj8h

Counterfeit Love by Elysa Hendricks

The Story:
Ten years ago a student’s unfounded accusation of sexual misconduct drove Jared Blake out of his hometown, forced him to give up teaching, and destroyed his marriage. Now he’s back in town to raise his daughter and return to the classroom. The last thing he expects – or needs – is an attraction to a stunningly pretty student in his algebra class, Maggie McCade.
To ferret out a computer hacker and further her dream of starting a high tech security firm of her own, twenty-nine-year-old Maggie McCade descends into high school hell by posing as a math-challenged senior. The last thing she expects – or needs – is to fall in love with her teacher.

Excerpt from Chapter One:

In the normal order of things Maggie McCade would be hot on the scent of the hunk standing at the front her high school math class. But in this incarnation he was off limits. Not only was Jared Blake a high school teacher – he was her teacher and her prime suspect.
As if her first time through high school hadn’t been bad enough, at twenty-nine being undercover as a high school student was pure hell for more reasons than one.
She peered into the classroom. Good, his back was turned. She tried to ease into the room without being noticed.
“I’m glad you could join us Miss McCade.” He never even turned around. Under that thick blanket of shiny black hair the man had eyes in the back of his head.
She groaned in defeat and dropped into her chair. Her bag slipped off her arm and crashed to the floor. The class tittered in amusement.
Then Jared Blake did turn around. Again she considered how unfair life was. High school math teachers should be fussy middle-aged men, with thinning hair, myopic eyes, and pocket protectors. This man was gorgeous, tall and well built, with movie-star good looks.
Somehow she made it through class without drawing further attention.
“Homework is on the board. Page 29, problems 25 through 50. Class dismissed.”
She grabbed her bag and started to leave.
“Ms. McCade could you stay a few minutes?”
The bag slid with a thump back to the floor. What now? Was he getting suspicious? After four weeks, she thought she had this high school senior role nailed. “Yeah, what you need?”
Jared – she had a hard time thinking of this hunk as Mr. Blake – leaned back against his desk at the front of the room, crossed his arms and gazed at her. His white shirt pulled taut over his broad chest revealing hard muscles he hadn’t gotten by pushing chalk across a blackboard.
Maggie felt her insides going liquid. Looks like his should be declared illegal. Nonsense. After over two years of celibacy, any man would look good. Then why wasn’t she drooling over Mr. Hoffman, her squirrelly English teacher?
She could count on one hand without using up all the fingers the number of men she’d been with, none of them memorable. So why did this man turn on the libido she thought dead and buried?
She couldn’t help track Jared as he walked over to her desk. The man moved like an athlete, his body sleek and toned. She could picture him dressed in an Armani suit controlling a corporate boardroom or better yet, dressed in a leather loincloth holding an equally scantily clad woman, preferably her. Why would a man with his looks, intelligence and innate charisma choose to teach a bunch of disinterested teenagers a plus b equals c?
Leaning toward her he laid a sheaf of papers on her desk. The subtle piney scent of his cologne wafted over her. His face was so close to hers she could make out each whisker on his cheek. Her mouth dried up. Why did the sight of this man’s five o’clock shadow stir her?
“You seem to be having some trouble with your assignments. You know I’m available for extra help before and after school as well as during some study periods.”
Available. God, the images his words conjured up in her mind drove out the rest of his speech. How she wished he were available to her. Then the teacher would become the student.

Buy Link :

http://tinyurl.com/d2m9vw3