Interview with Scruffy

This appeared on the Creatively Green Write at Home Mom  blog on July 20, 2016 http://creativelygreen.blogspot.com/

Thru the 25th you can enter to win free e-books. Go to www.dawn-ireland.com

 

I’ve always wanted a West Highland Terrier. My husband is fond of large dogs, and I’ve fallen in love with the homeless pups we’ve adopted, but I’m hoping someday…  

Scruffy in kilt One of the great things about being a writer? You can give your characters the pets you’ve always wanted. That’s how Scruffy ended up in Highland Yearning. I made him a Westie mix, with a torn ear and bedraggled fur, but his personality more than makes up for what he lacks in grooming.

 Adding a dog as a character was a new experience for me as a writer. I always had to wonder, where was Scruffy while Caden was kissing Ariel? Then I had to consider who the dog liked, or didn’t. Animals are as particular as people, and you can always tell how they feel about a person. With this in mind, I thought it might be fun to “interview” Scruffy.

Today, I have Scruffy with me, one of the characters from my latest book.

Scruffy, you weren’t allowed to speak in Highland Yearning. (Barking doesn’t count.) So I thought I’d ask some questions about the story and get the answers from your point of view.

Scruffy’s whole body moved, even his backside followed his wagging tail. “Finally, I get to tell what really happened.”

And it was quite a story. Did you know you were going to be sent back in time with Ariel?

He settled down and stared at me. “No one ‘sent’ me back. I chose to go.  A few days before we ended up in Scotland I was visited by one of the Ring of Belief’switches. The witches are okay. This one, Elspeth, is beautiful by human standards and unlike most humans, she had no trouble understanding me.

The witch asked, very politely, if I wanted to go back to 1775 with Ariel, or stay in this time. I told her I wanted to go back, Ariel needed me.” Scruffy raised his bushy eyebrows. “Actually, we needed each other.”

I had the feeling you weren’t over-fond of Caden, the hero in the story.

In spite of what some readers may believe, I want to state, for the record, I am not jealous of the hero. Human women are always sighing over Caden, but I consider him an acquired taste. Oh, he’s big, and can hold his own in a fight with other humans, but his sense of smell is terrible. It’s a good thing he doesn’t lose Ariel on a regular basis. I’m used to the Mackay, and Ariel loves him, so I have to make allowances.

A little bird told me you found your own ‘lassie’ in Scotland.

Birds talk too much. But yes, I met Ellie there. You won’t come across a finer West Highland Terrier this side of the Dornoch Firth. She likes to think she’s ‘domesticated’ me, but that’s only because I let her believe I’ve been tamed.

She must love you.  I understand you have pups of your own.

“Aye.” Scruffy stuck out his chest. “They’re fine little lads and lassies. One of them, Scout, has huge paws for a little pup, but he’ll grow into them. No doubt, he’ll be bigger than his father.” He cocked his head. “My pups aren’t nearly as much trouble as Ariel and Caden’s. I don’t envy them their helpless offspring, they have to keep them around for years.

Is there anything else you’d like to say about Highland Yearningwhile you have the chance?

Scruffy’s eyebrows raised, and his liquid brown eyes twinkled. “I like what you did with our story. Now, will you write me back to the Highlands? My family’s waiting.

 

Excerpt From Highland Yearning:Highland Yearning _505x825

“Are we done, lassie?” Caden’s voice sounded tight. Almost as if he were speaking through his teeth.

“I guess so.” She turned and leaned back against the rough stone. “We’ve searched all the rooms in this part of the tower.”

“And thanks to you, every person we came across thinks I’m bedding you.”

“Would you rather I let them know we were searching for what they consider to be an imaginary ring?” She inclined her head. “I had to come up with some reason for us to be alone in the upstairs bedrooms.”

“They’ll never truly believe I’d bed a Sutherland.”

Ariel reined in her anger. “Yes, they will. After all, your brother is about to marry a Sutherland.”

He came to within a foot of her. “Nay, he will not.” His tone softened. “Don’t you ken what other men will think of you, lassie?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“They’ll believe they can take liberties, and you’ve no one to protect you.”

“You’re worried about my safety?”

“Aye.”

When was the last time someone worried about her? Her heart did a little twist. “That’s sweet, but I can take care of myself.”

“But your reputation—”

“Isn’t a problem. After all, I’m not staying. If anything, you need to worry about your reputation.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the mixture of frustration and confusion on his face.

She shook her head. “We left some of those rooms in five or ten minutes. Word could get around that you are . . . shall we say, less than adequate.”

He smiled, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Then I’d have to prove otherwise to every lassie who questioned it.” His voice lowered and he studied her face. “Would you be wondering about my capabilities?”

 

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Top 10 Advantages of Living in a Houseboat

I’ve always wondered about houseboats.

Joanne Guidoccio

I’m thrilled to welcome back Soul Mate author Ryan Jo Summers to the Power of 10 series. Today, Ryan Jo discusses the advantages of living in a houseboat and shares her latest release, Upon the Tide.

Here’s Ryan Jo!

ryanjosummers1I have long had a fascination of living in a houseboat, upon the tide. I liked television shows that featured some character living such the dream. However, in feeding my fantasy, I’ve learned a couple key differences between true houseboats and floating homes, which the names are sometimes used interchangeably.

The houseboat, which can be a cabin cruiser, trawler like the one used in the story “Upon the Tide” or a yacht, must meet certain requirements. It has to be capable of leaving the dock under its own power and fulfill the US Coast Guard standard call for having seaworthy hulls, engines, navigational equipment and more. It also needs to…

View original post 1,227 more words

A Leprechaun’s Love

images“Will you be choosing the gold or the Leprechaun?” The Irish glen fairly rang with a voice that didn’t quite sound human.

Maddy stared at the tiny man who could have walked from the pages of the Celtic Myth volumes that she used to teach her class. She’d been piecing clues together for the last five years, but now that she had the Leprechaun and gold in her sight, she realized she’d never really believed.

The creature’s bored voice. and raised bushy eyebrows caused her to study him. He either didn’t care about the outcome, or he wanted to hurry her along for another reason. Leprechauns were known for their trickery. She needed time to puzzle it out. “Were you born one of the Wee Folk?”

He looked startled for a moment, then something else, regret or anger passed over his features. “We’re not allowed to tell of our past. As ye found me out, you need to choose.”

She twisted her long black hair into a knot at her nape, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on her bare arms. Her life had always been about her work. At twenty-seven she’d surpassed many in her field, but here she was, with the proof that her theories were correct, and she’d have no one to share her accomplishment. “How much gold is in the pot?”

“Does it really matter?” He moved to the overflowing kettle, which sat atop a mound in the center of the glen. Birds sang sweetly and butterflies wove patterns in the air above his head, but he reached down, hefted a gold coin, then tossed it at her. “More than you’ll ever need.”

Her hand came up, but the coin bounced off the tips of her fingers. Okay, so maybe she didn’t have great hand-eye coordination.

The Leprechaun smirked.

“Who needs to be able to catch?” She turned, then bent to retrieve the coin from the grass. Maybe he would disappear if she didn’t keep him in her sight. When she spun around it was obvious the Leprechaun had been ogling her backside. “Are all the fairy folk this rude?”

“Not rude-appreciative.”

She could see it in his eyes, he meant what he said. “Thank you.” Somehow, this little man made her feel more attractive than the hollow compliments of the grad students and professor’s she’d known. “Do you have a name?”

“I’ve not got all day.” In truth, he had nothing but time. Still, her interest in him hurt. It stirred hope, and hope could cut deeper than the keenest blade.

When she simply stared at him with those black-fringed blue eyes he let out a noisy breath. “ Fine, ‘tis Maximilian.”

“Max.” Her low voice caressed his name.” He swallowed. For three hundred years he’d played out this same scenario. For the first hundred, he’d tried seducing the women. It had been humiliating to realize that without his true form, no woman saw beyond the shine of gold. And only a woman who chose him over money could free him from his hell.

“Nowhere, in any of my books, does it say anything about making a choice.” The woman tipped her head and her eyes narrowed. “The gold should be mine because I outwitted you.”

“You didn’t. I let you find me.” He shoved his hands in his pocket. “I always let beautiful women find me. It’s an old habit. One I should break.” Why would a woman chose what he’d become over security?

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “What happens if I choose you?”

Max’s heart started to pound. He’d never been asked that question before. “Look, Miss..” He held his hands out, palms up, fingers spread. “What is your name?”

“Maddy.”

“Look, Maddy. I don’t know. It’s never happened.” He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “I suspect we’ll be bound in some way.”

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“Have you been doing this job?”

“Nearly three hundred years.”

The expression of pity on her face made him angry. He’d brought this on himself with his arrogance and pride, but he would not let her feel sorry for him. “I don’t need your pity, or your help. You’ll be leaving once you claim your gold.”

“No, I won’t.” She stepped to him and smoothed down one scraggly eyebrow. “I was never in this for the money. I needed to prove that magic exists. And now I know it does.”

He searched her face, and what he saw made hope slam into his chest. She smiled, a smile that warmed her face, her eyes – and his heart.

“I chose you Maximilian. Gold is fleeting. True riches lie in valuing others.”

He felt the change at her words. Mist swirled around him. His limbs stretched and he rolled his broad shoulders. As his vision cleared, he once again wore the dark, blue, velvet waistcoat that had been his on the night he’d unwisely taunted the witch.

Maddy stared at him, and he couldn’t help the smile that turned up the corners of his mouth at her incredulous expression. He bowed, then took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You have freed me.”

A voice filled the glade, and Max recognized the witch who’d put him through such torment. “Well, Max.  I still don’t see the appeal, but obviously she’s smitten. Consider the gold my wedding gift.”

Max cupped Maddy’s face. “And are you? Smitten?”leprechan

Her eyes had gone wide and her voice sounded shaky. “You’re gorgeous!”

“Well, that’s a start.” And he sealed their future with a kiss.

Christmas Traditions

H6Tradition is important in my family. Through our traditions come some of our best “stories.” For instance, my sisters and I ring the bell at church every Christmas morning. One of my sisters insists on adding a couple of minutes to the time each year.  We are now up to 22 minutes.  My husband took pity on us a few years ago and presented us with bell-ringing gloves. (Hemp is murder on your hands.)

Of course, that same sister is the chronicler in the family. The problem is, her candid shots – aren’t.  I put my foot down when she missed a shot of me opening an important gift. She wanted me to re-wrap it and look surprised when I opened it. I enjoy acting, but on Christmas morning?

Then there was the year that we went out to cut the tree (as we do every year) and our dog Nikki decided to roll in some animal droppings. It may have smelled good to her, but we were forced into a half-hour ride, in a closed vehicle, with a very smelly dog. Needless to say, she didn’t come with us the following year.

Speaking of dogs, I’m surprised Brandy (another of our well-behaved pets), made it through Christmas several years ago. One of my sisters was sick and couldn’t attend church. We left her on the sofa, and she had a pound of chocolates next to her on the coffee table. When we returned, each wrapper was in its place, but the entire box was empty. We unjustly accused my sister, but it turns out Brandy had a sweet tooth. 

And it’s not just the animals that have Christmas stories. We’ve had some Christmas Parties that would have made Mr. Fezziwig (A Christmas Carol) feel right at home, complete with pastry covered hams, unique games (It’s a Wonderful Life Trivial Pursuit) and my sisters and I lip sinking to “The Chipmunks.” (Yes, I lip sang “I still want a hula hoop.”)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Thursday Threads

thehighlandersreluctantbrideThe Highlander’s Reluctant Bride

Author: Cathy MacRae

Genre: Scottish Medieval Romance

Heat level: Sensual

Determined to keep the Macrory clan’s holdings out of the clutches of marauding pirates, King Robert II sends his man, Lord Ranald Scott, to hold Scaurness Castle. There, Laird Macrory lays dying, awaiting word from his son who is missing on the battlefields of France. If the son is not found before the old laird dies, Ranald will take over as laird—and marry Laird Macrory’s headstrong daughter.

Lady Caitriona sees no reason she cannot rule the clan in her brother’s stead, and is bitterly disappointed with the king’s decision to send a man to oversee the castle and people. Not only is Ranald Scott only distantly related to the Macrory clan, but he was her childhood nemesis. She has little trust or like for him.

Her disappointment turns to panic when the king’s plan is completely revealed and she realizes she must wed Ranald. Pirates, treachery, and a four-year-old girl stand between her and Ranald’s chance at happiness. What will it take for them to learn to trust each other and find the love they both deserve?

Excerpt:

Absently Riona brushed a wayward strand of dark auburn hair from her face as she took two quick paces to catch up with him. The movement reminded Ranald of her as a child.

“I don’t suppose ye were too anxious to come here,” she said.

He formed a rueful expression. “Nae. ‘Twas no’ my first choice.”

“I know ye dinnae like it here. Ye always seemed relieved to depart.”

Ranald laughed. “‘Twas ye I dinnae like.”

Rather than take offence, Riona nodded again. “Nor I ye.”

“Ye were a difficult lass.”

She drew up short, staring at him. “Me? Difficult? All I ever wanted was to be included. Ye were forever running off, trying to leave me behind.”

Ranald did not check his pace. “Ach, we did let ye play sometimes.”

With a huff, Riona scrambled to his side. “Oh, aye. Ye let me play ‘princess.’ The princess ye kidnapped and held for ransom by tying me to a tree all afternoon.” She grabbed at her skirt again as she stumbled and caught herself.

Ranald paused and his horse tossed his head at his master’s sudden halt, but Riona didn’t slow her stride. With one long pace he was even with her again.

“And what about the time ye let me go fishing?” she tossed at him. “Except I had to sit in the bottom of the boat and use my skirt to hold yer catch. I smelled of fish for a week.”

Ranald chuckled and shook his head. “That wasnae me, lass.”

She bit her lip, and Ranald wondered why her straight, white teeth fascinated him so. He stared at the reddened mark her bite left behind.

“True,” she allowed. “Ye dinnae like the water, do ye?”

Ranald swallowed back his wayward thoughts. This was Riona, his childhood nemesis, not the sweet widow he’d left behind at Scott Castle.

He caught her sideways glance at him and realized he’d not answered her. “Nae. ‘Tis all that up and down and sideways motion. Makes my stomach churn.”

“How do ye intend to be laird of a people who live by the sea?”

“I cannae say if I’ll ever be much of a sailor, but I will be laird.”

Cathy MacRaeBUY LINK: http://www.amzn.com/B00J1PNPPC/

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Website: www.cathymacraeauthor.com.

Twitter: @CMacRaeAuthor

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Thursday Threads

BuccaneerBeautyBuccaneer Beauty

By Viola Russell

Genre: Historical Romance

Heat Level: Sensual

BUCCANEER BEAUTY is the story of Grace, Graínne, O’Malley, the beautiful daughter of a powerful Irish chieftain and a conventional mother. At the age of eleven, Graínne cuts her hair and sneaks aboard her father’s galley ship, determined to follow a life at sea and to seek the company of a handsome Scottish gallowglass, Bruce Donnel. Graínne proves herself a budding warrior when Spanish marauders invade her father’s vessel, but her parents have other plans for her. Though she proves an able sailor, Graínne is forced to marry Donal O’Flaherty, another powerful chieftain. Though enamored of Bruce Donnel, she nonetheless obeys her parents and proves an able helpmate to her violent and rash husband, continuing her own adventures at sea while raising children and supervising her husband’s home. Her heart, however, still belongs to a handsome Scot who she can never have.

Upon Donal’s death by ambush, Graínne continues her adventures along the Irish coast and Europe, secretly battling England’s growing power in her country. Alternately sleeping with the devil or manipulating the British authorities to her own ends, Graínne is determined to save her family and people from the tyranny imposed upon them by England. To make her family stronger, she weds Richard Bourke, one of the most powerful men in the region, but she can never forget Bruce Donnel and the passion he incited within her soul. Richard proves Graínne’s most stalwart supporter and she his, their minds and bodies uniting in an almost mystical union. Together, they faced the English with no fear—with only audacity and boundless courage. Still, the shadow of a youthful gallowglass intrudes on Graínne’s peace.

BUY LINK:  http://www.amzn.com/B010MOFENQ/

Excerpt:

“I wish you could come with me to Bunowen.” Grainne heard Bruce’s footsteps when he stepped on the hay spread along the barn. She looked up from grooming her chestnut horse.

“Now what would I be doing there?” Bruce ambled toward her and began stroking the mare’s nose. The horse stomped on the ground with her right front hoof and let out a fierce snort. The Scot took a step back.

“She thinks you mean to dishonor me.” Grainne grinned at him as she combed the horse’s mane. “My da gave her to me after that first voyage. Before that, I’d only had a pony. He said I could handle Anu after that.”

Bruce had regained his courage. He searched within the folds of his cloak and offered the horse a carrot. Anu gazed at him with what looked like suspicion, sniffing the tempting vegetable. “She’s a wild one.”

Grainne laughed and threw her arms around the animal’s long neck. “She’s a smart one, you’re meaning.” She stared at the now fully-grown man before her. His fair hair fell lightly onto his shoulders, and he wore the tartan trews typical of his people. She glanced at the way his muscular legs bulged within the tight material of his tartan trews. He’d spent most of his life yielding an axe, and Grainne didn’t want to admit to herself how lonely the months were when he returned to his native land with the rest of his men. “How old are you now, Bruce Donnel?”

Bruce watched as Anu took a generous bite from the carrot, then he lifted it to his own lips, grinning. “Older than you, Lady Grainne.” He studied her for a few minutes. “Twenty.”

“So no Highland Lass has won your heart, has she?” Grainne swept the coarse mane from the comb and tossed it aside. She wiped her hands on her trews and pushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“No, my heart’s been stolen by an Irish goddess, but I can’t have her.” He turned to the pawing horse and shared the rest of his carrot.

Grainne’s heart hammered inside her breast. She took a deep breath and forced levity into her voice. “Who is she, pray tell?”

Bruce was suddenly so close to her that she could feel his hot breath feathering the slight hairs on her neck. “Don’t play with me, Grainne. It hurts too much.”

Grainne swallowed hard as her very being lurched with desire and aching need. Every sinew in her body wanted to wrap him within the all-consuming fire of her passion. She forced a laugh into her voice. “What hurts? By what I hear aboard ship you waste no time pining for the chieftain’s daughter. You’re quite the man about port. Many a Spanish and French lass can attest to that.”

“They mean nothing.” His fingertips lightly touched a strand of her hair, but he jerked away as if an electric jolt raced through his body. He added bitterly, “But you’re the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Connaught, and you’re soon to be the wife of another. I’m a poor mercenary.”

“Not so poor by what I’ve heard.” Grainne struggled to control her own rapid breathing. The heat of his body infiltrated her very pores. “Rumor has it you’ve farmland in the Highlands.”

Bruce’s face was very close to hers as he moved closer to her, his breath fanning against her lips as they lightly touched hers.  Grainne involuntarily touched his cheek, her fingertips on fire and her own breathing sounding loud in her ears. “You’ve heard right. It would be a great place to raise sheep, if I had the right woman.”

“Aye. It would be in a place with the right woman.”

Grainne looked away, but she still felt his heat. He cupped her chin under with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. His brown eyes bore into her soul. Grainne’s whole body grew hot, and she gently slapped away his hand. Turning from him, she replied softly over her shoulder, “I have to finish with Anu.”

“Would you leave with me, my wild rose?” Suddenly, Bruce’s powerful arms encircled her waist. He ran his lips along her neck as his hands shifted to her breasts.

Grainne turned to him, almost against her as though she couldn’t help her conscious will. In his arms, she wasn’t possessed of a mind at all, only an aching body that longed for sexual release. During her long journeys at sea, Grainne had acquired many unsavory sailors’ habits. She loved to game and swore in such a way that made her mother cross herself before flailing her only daughter, but Grainne had never given of herself to man. She’d purposefully withheld her sexual favors from the men inhabiting her father’s ships. Grainne was a chieftain’s daughter. She wouldn’t disgrace him or herself.

Viola Russell

Thursday Threads

SONOFTHEMOONLESSNIGHTTITLE: The Turning Stone Chronicles: “Son of the Moonless Night

AUTHOR: C.D. HERSH

GENRE: Urban fantasy, Paranormal, Romance

HEAT LEVEL: Sensual

 

Currently available in eBook on Amazon at: http://amzn.com/B00XK3E172

Owen Todd Jordan Riley has a secret. He’s a shape shifter who has been hunting and killing his own kind. To him the only good shifter is a dead shifter. Revenge for the death of a friend motivates him, and nothing stands in his way . . . except Katrina Romanovski, the woman he is falling in love with.

Deputy coroner Katrina Romanovski has a secret, too. She hunts and kills paranormal beings like Owen. At least she did. When she rescues Owen from an attack by a werebear she is thrust back into the world she thought she’d left. Determined to find out what Owen knows about the bear, she begins a relationship meant to collect information. What she gets is something quite different-love with a man she suspects of murder. Can she reconcile his deception and murderous revenge spree and find a way to redeem him? Or will she condemn him for the same things she has done and walk away from love?

Excerpt from Son of the Moonless Night:

A crash in the alley stopped Katrina Romanovski mid-stride. Like the October mist swirling in off the lake, her gypsy blood stirred sending her intuition into high gear. Something unnatural was happening.

Go see what’s wrong. She heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he stood next to her.

On the heels of his words came her mother’s pragmatic warning in clipped British tones. You know what curiosity killed. Katrina pushed the ever-present warning aside. Mom never approved of Dad’s supernatural hunts and even less of his drawing her into them.

Pulling the oversized cross she always wore out from under her shirt, Kat looked around for a weapon. Please, not a vampire. I hate vampires! A piece of wood sticking out of the trashcan at the front of the alley caught her eye.

Grabbing it, she broke the end off into a sharp point. The mist-filled air filtered the light from the single bulb over one of the alley doorways. The wind swirled the loose trash around making a quiet approach difficult. Sidestepping the paper, with the stake in one hand and holding the gun she took from her purse in the other hand, she crept into the alley.

A roar echoed against the buildings, the sound nearly sending her running. That roar wasn’t a vampire. It sounded more like an animal. Kat inched closer. In the yellow pool of light from the back door of the building, a black bear, over seven feet tall, reared on its back legs and swung its paw at the man standing at the edge of the light. He crashed to the ground, shirt torn open from the slashing claws. Blood covered the fabric, and he clasped his left hand over his shoulder to stem the flow. The bear bent toward him, teeth bared in a smile. A wicked smile.

Kat aimed her gun, but before she could pull the trigger, a shot rang out. The flash of gunpowder lit the face of the injured man. The blast reverberated against the buildings. With an enraged bellow, the bear staggered backward against the wall. Shaking his head, the animal dropped to all four paws. Weaving like a drunk, he lumbered toward his attacker. The man took aim again, shooting the animal between the eyes. Animal and human collapsed on the dirty, littered pavement.

As she started to move forward, Kat’s gypsy senses crawled over her skin like angry red ants. As she slipped back into the shadows, the bear shed fur. Changing size. Then, finally, turning into a man.

Shape shifters. Her stake wasn’t any good against them, and her bullets weren’t silver. This one appeared dead anyway. Had the wounded man seen the shift? Tossing the stake aside, she paused by the shifter and quickly moved to the wounded man. Out cold. Still human.

When she touched him, his eyelids fluttered open. “Did I get it?”

“What?”

“The bear.”

20140417 hersh_smallWhere you can find CD:

Soul Mate Publishing: http://smpauthors.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cdhershauthor

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/C.-D.-Hersh/e/B00DV5L7ZI

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCDHersh

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CDHersh

Thursday Threads

thewidowswalkThe Widow’s Walk

Paranormal Romance

Sexy, Heat Level 3-4


(available in ebook and print)

http://www.amazon.com/Widows-Walk-Carole-Ann-Moleti-ebook/dp/B00PHYCLHY

Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted. By their own ghosts. The Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Mike, Liz, and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were they doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?

Excerpt:

Look, for now, we’ll just stay where we are–together. If Liz and Mike are united, then Jared and Elisabeth aren’t going to be able to get in between us.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks.

She stared at him intently, fear, maybe desperation in her eyes. “We can only talk to each other about this. Others might use any information against us.”

“Who would do that, Liz?’

Her demeanor hardened. She sat up, raised her chin. “My son. Your daughter. Sandra.”

“You’re paranoid. The kids have no inkling about ghosts. All Sandra has are theories. She doesn’t know about your incident–or my illness. And I’m not going to tell her.” Guilt twanged in his gut. Sandra had come up with all the ghostly interpretations on her own, right?

Liz jumped up. “She knows about my injury. Maybe not how it happened, but when Mae went in there to get my things, she figured out it was for me. She reads minds, or manipulates people into blabbing what they know.”

Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t take much for Mae to spill information. I think you’re giving Sandra too much credit.” Yet, she did ask him about the ghosts as soon as he sat down.

“You can joke all you want, Mike, but this is serious. We can’t let anyone else in.”

“I won’t say a word about anything ghostly to anyone. As long as things stay under control.”

Liz studied him.

Mike squirmed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” He settled back on the sofa.

She tucked the blanket around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go help Mae with dinner.”

She didn’t believe him. He didn’t trust her. This was never going to work.Carole Ann Moleti (1)

 

Thursday Threads

forestofhtemistawakeningTITLE:        FOREST OF THE MIST: Awakening

GENRE:        YA Fantasy Romance

HEAT LEVEL:   3

BLURB:

Upon awakening from the coma that put her in the alternate realm known as Paradise Valley, Jennifer Burke Kyle discovered her infant son was half-grown, had some rather unique powers, and was the new leader of Paradise and the adjoining Dark Land. If that wasn’t enough to make her want to go back to sleep, she finds her dead husband, David Kyle, has ordered a complete stranger, Alex McGuire, to marry her and raise her young son as his own. Together, Alex and Jennifer, with the help of Davy, must escape the agents of PRI, a government research group, in order to protect the still comatose, Colin O’Brien.

AMAZON BUY LINK:

http://www.amzn.com/B012T8JT5W/

EXCERPT:

_“What?” Jennifer said. “I’m not ready to be married to you. I don’t even know you.”

Alex had had just about enough of her routine. “Listen, sweetheart, it’s no picnic being with you either. I’m tired of trying to live up to your lofty expectations. I’m not David Kyle, nor would I want to be. I’m doing this all for you, to protect you and Davy. A little gratitude would be welcome.”

“Excuse me?” Anger flashed in her eyes. “You are darn lucky that I even give you the time of day. You overbearing, egotistical control freak.”

“Control freak!” Alex shouted weakly. “Are we back to that song and dance again? Can’t you come up with some original material? I’ve busted my ass in order to help you, and you have the nerve to say I’m controlling you?”

“Oh, what a load of crap, Alex! You are not doing this for me or Davy. You are doing it for Lily.” Jennifer spun away from him in disgust.

Alex wanted to pound something in frustration, but he could barely move his arms. “For crying out loud, Jennifer, Lily isn’t here. She married Connor. They moved away. Lily has nothing to do with this. If she did, I would already be in Texas. I’m here with you because I want to be with you.”

“You do not know me!” she shouted.

“Because you won’t let me get to know you!” Alex countered.

Alex stopped speaking. His face turned red. Spots appeared before his eyes, and he had a hard time catching his breath. He saw Jennifer back away from him as the machine he was hooked up to began to scream. A team of doctors rushed into the room and began working on him. Alex felt himself begin to fade and then he was gone.

Carly Jordynn (1)ALSO BY CARLY JORDYNN:

FOREST OF THE MIST: Travelers

http://www.amzn.com/B00ND8C3RE/

SASHA BISHOP: Retired Slayer

http://www.amzn.com/B00O99U4V8/

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

www.carlyjordynn.com

www.facebook.com/carlyjordynn777

www.twitter.com/@CarlyJordynn

www.pinterest.com/CarlyJordynn

http://carlyjordynn.blogspot.com

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7200409.Carly_Jordynn

Thursday Threads

MySexyValentineMY SEXY VALENTINE HOLIDAY ANTHOLOGY

Featuring Tina Susedik’s Short Story, The Valentine’s Proposal

 

Other Contributing Anthology Authors: Cheryl Yeko, Sage Spelling, Lynn Cahoon, S.C. Mitchell, Char Chaffin

ANTHOLOGY HEAT LEVEL: STEAMY

Blurb for The Valentine’s Proposal: 
When a Valentine’s Day proposal doesn’t go the way she expected, librarian Janetta Simonson’s life changes in ways she’s never dreamed.

BUY LINK:  My Sexy Valentine: http://amzn.com/B00SSFM1OChttp://amzn.com/B00SSFM1OC

 

EXCERPT FROM The Valentine’s Proposal:

 

Devlin Baran followed the statuesque brunette as she stomped from the woman’s room and headed to the bar. His cock twitched as her hips swayed in tight jeans. Was the guy who dumped her crazy? To trade in this hot piece for the washed-out blonde?

He’d noticed her the moment she’d walked into the building. Full breasts. Tapered waist. Not too thin. Tall. His body had reacted immediately. He liked his women tall. He’d been ready to join her when the jerk arrived. During their argument he’d called her Janetta. The name seemed to suit her.

Pseudo cowboys irritated the hell out of him. New boots, shiny belt buckle, cheesy western shirt were all signs. But even real cowhands dressed up for a Saturday night on the town, so he could be mistaken. When the man tossed his hat brim side down on the table, Devlin knew him to be a fake. Any real westerner knew you put your hat top side down so not to ruin the folds.

Since he was out of luck with the brunette, he’d headed to the men’s room, where he observed the encounter. He nearly applauded when the woman smacked the pretend cowboy across the cheek and threw the ring into the crowd. Hell. Not only did he like them tall, he loved them spirited, like his fillies on his ranch.

As she headed to the bar, he shook his head. He couldn’t let a hot woman interfere with the job he had to do, needing all his focus to find out who was slipping drugs into women’s drinks. As a rancher working undercover as an FBI agent, he always seemed to be one-step behind the assholes who thought it fine to have sex with unconscious women.

The man, or men, moved from bar to bar in the small rural area. This was the only one that hadn’t been hit. He hoped to hit pay dirt tonight.

He tried to ignore Janetta’s shapely ass as she sat on a stool next to another pseudo cowboy. She must have a thing for their type. After taking her time with one drink, the man tipped his overly white Stetson, leaned in and said something, making her laugh. The back of Devlin’s neck prickled. He seemed familiar.

What was she thinking, Devlin wondered as she let the guy put his hand on her thigh. Even though she oozed sex appeal, after her encounter with Fred, he had the feeling she wasn’t a sexually aggressive person. She seemed more like a kindergarten teacher.

Janetta took a sip of her orange-colored drink and spoke to the man—who threw his head back and laughed. The hand went a bit further up her leg. She took another drink and swayed into him. Maybe he was wrong and she was just another floozy looking to pick up an unsuspecting cowboy.

The man swung an arm around her shoulders and lifted the glass to her lips. Her head dropped into his neck. He glanced over his shoulder and snuggled her into his side. After a few minutes he pulled her from the stool, and like a man helping a drunk companion, headed toward the door.

Shit. She’s been drugged.

Tina Susedik

ALSO BY TINA SUSEDIK:

Riding for Love: http://www.amazon.com/Riding-for-Love-ebook/dp/B00CLJD31Q

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/riding-for-love-tina-susedik/1119333999?ean=9781619354289

All I Want for Christmas is a Soul Mate: http://www.amzn.com/B00GH2I458/

http://tinasusedik.wordpress.com./

Twitter: @tinasusedik

Website: TinaSusedik.com

Facebook: Tina Susedik, Author

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17908316-riding-for-love

http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/riding-for-love/