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Thursday, December 18, 2014

MISTLETOE BLOG HOP - PRIZES - ENTER FOR AMAZON GIFT CARDS!


Welcome! How about a holiday gift?  Leave me a comment, your email address, follow this blog (will contact you for snail mail, sorry, U.S. only) and I'll send you this fridge magnet with my new book cover on it. 
I'll also be drawing one commenter to win a $5.00 Amazon Gift Card, on Monday. So don't forget your email address.  
Scroll down for rafflecopter 
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Here's a bit about  the book. Can a craving for mint chip ice cream and a passion for the theater keep a summer romance hot through a freezing winter? Clint is a high school English teacher and a budding playwright. Nina, a former actress, is now a beautiful and wealthy widow.
   A chance meeting brings them together. Their passion for the stage joins their minds while love blossoms, despite their age gap. The theater, that once united them, may be the one hurdle they can’t clear. It's a steamy romance in the glorious and glitzy Big Apple at Christmas with a happy ending you’ll never see coming. 

Stand under the mistletoe with me and receive a delicious kiss from one of my sexy elves.

A wintry excerpt from the prologue. 

Wrapped in a luxurious mink coat and nothing else, Nina Wells stood, alone, on the terrace of her lavish New York City apartment, watching snowflakes fall. Even the Christmas lights, blinking at her from Fifth Avenue across the park, didn’t melt the frost surrounding her heart. The wind gathered strength, whipping tiny, icy bits into her face, stinging like a million needles. The blowing sent the chill factor plummeting to zero. With a little shiver, she flipped up the collar to cover her bare neck.

Will I ever see Clint again? Probably not. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. I’m too old for him, anyway. How stupid to fall for a younger man. I should’ve known better. She blew out a breath then returned to the warmth her tony place.

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ONLY  $.99 
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Monday, December 15, 2014

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "DANCE"

Back to Buddy Carruthers' story in the First & Ten series this week. The word prompt is "dance". Thank you so much for coming. Click on Tuesday Tales at the end of this post to go back to the wonderful writers on the Tuesday Tales blog. 

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In the locker room, under a hot shower, Buddy thought back to the first time he and Emmy made love. They had been friends in college, hanging out, studying and eating together for weeks with nothing but a few steamy kisses, until the Spring Dance.

He’d attended all the dances in high school, even though he wasn’t much of a dancer. His best friend and quarterback for the Kensington State team, Mark Davis, had kidded Buddy about getting a date. It didn’t take him but a second to decide to ask Emmy. Buddy had seen the beauty and sweetness of the shy girl, hiding behind her guitar.
 As he toweled off, he pictured her in a teal blue, shiny dress. It had hugged her curvy figure like a second skin. Once she had shed her baggy jeans and big shirts, she had been the most gorgeous girl on campus. He had wanted her.
 They had danced mostly slow dances as neither one had liked dancing fast. She smelled of spring blossoms and shampoo. Buddy had wished everyone else would vanish, evaporate somehow, so they could be alone with the music.
   It was warm for April. Buddy had taken Emmy out to eat, then they ended up at the old, deserted barn on the outskirts of town. Emmy had expressed interest in exploring the dusty, smelly structure.  
   Buddy had picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her across the soggy ground. The moon had shone through a hole in the roof. He put her down on some hay and joined her.
As he put his car in gear, he remembered how soft her skin was. She was willing, almost anxious to give herself to him. He relished the idea of being her first. They had taken their time undressing, their shyness covered by shadows. He had been gentle and had tried to take his time, but the sight of her moon-kissed, naked body had stoked his passion beyond his endurance.
   Stopped at a red light, the memory of his second try in that old barn, his amazing self-control and the pleasure he had received at satisfying her brought warmth to his heart. Tonight he was going to make love to her that same way. He could hardly wait to rekindle those old fires, still smoldering deep inside.  
   He turned into his street and raised his eyebrows at the sight of news vans blocking his driveway. Buddy maneuvered his way through the scraggly crowd. He evaded their questions, hammering him from all sides.
   After murmuring “no comment” a dozen times, he pushed his way into the house and shoved the door closed. Silence greeted him.
   “Gert! Gert! Are you here?”
   A soft scuffling of feet greeted him. She appeared from the kitchen.
   “What the hell? Where’s Emmy?” He dropped his keys on the front hall table.
   “Gone, Mr. Carruthers. Gone.” She shook her head. 

         
 

Monday, December 8, 2014

TUESDAY TALES PICTURE PROMPT



Picture prompt week! We have a snippet from a new story, still forming, that will be book 5 in The Manhattan Dinner Club series. This is Kate's  untitled story. Thank you for stopping by.

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Kate looked out the window, watching fluffy flakes falling steadily. Pulling a blanket tighter around her shoulders, she returned to her chair by the fire. Her pug, Lulu, curled into a ball on a cushion next to the blaze. Kate opened her cell and dialed.
“I’m stranded, Terry. The furnace isn’t working and I think my car battery died. Motor won’t turn over.”
“What do you want me to do? It’s Thanksgiving. I’ve got plans.
We’re not married anymore. You wanted that old wreck, Kate. Deal with it.”
“But it’s freezing up here. Snowing, too.”
“Throw another log on the fire and figure it out. I’m not coming up there to rescue you. Those days are over.”

He hung up. Tears pricked at her eyes.
Terry had always taken care of the things like the furnace. Kate had no idea what to do and it was Thanksgiving. She had tried one or two repair numbers, but went to right voicemail.
No one was fixing furnaces. They were gathering with their family and friends in cozy, warm houses while she froze alone.
She braved the cold to haul in several more logs, then plopped down, cross-legged to warm herself in front of the fire. Her cell rang.
“Hey, lady, I was wondering if you wanted to catch brunch with me this morning.”
“Jeff?” Kate blew out a breath as she explained she wasn’t in the city. She recounted her plight before wishing him a happy holiday and hanging up. She prepared a bowl of cereal and piled up all the blankets she could find. Kate and her pug huddled together. Warmed by the flames, they dozed.
Two hours later, there was a loud knock. She yawned and padded across the room. Surprise mixed with relief when she opened the door.
“Jeff?”
Thanks for coming! Comments are always appreciated.


Saturday, December 6, 2014

SECRET CRAVINGS WOUNDED WARRIOR BLOG HOP

WELCOME! Thanks for coming. I'll donate $1.00 for every comment or $1.50 for every new subscriber to my newsletter (scroll down to subscribe), up to $100, to THE WOUNDED WARRIOR PROJECT. Christmas is a time for giving.

 
“People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
― George Orwell


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I'm also giving away this bracelet to one lucky commenter chosen at random. Christmas is a time for giving!
LEAVE your name and your email address in your comment. Any comments without emails can't be eligible to win (because I can't contact you).  
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Christmas is a time for fun, too! Here are some of my book covers, dressed up for the holidays. They make great gifts. Most are also available in paperback. 
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 (this book is free)




 Thank you for coming. May you have a happy and healthy holiday. RETURN TO THE BLOG HOP HERE  to be entered to win a $50 gift card!  MY Website  HERE

Don't forget to leave a comment & your email!



Monday, December 1, 2014

TUESDAY TALES - READ BUDDY'S CONTINUING STORY

Welcome back! Today's word prompt is "raid." We return to the First & Ten series and Buddy Carruther's story. 
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Buddy couldn’t sleep. He padded downstairs to the kitchen. His raid on the refrigerator didn’t turn up much. A bottle of champagne, six pack of beer, dozen eggs. and some old cheese. He found two, chocolate-covered ice cream bars in the freezer. They had been there a long time. He didn’t care. He put the kettle on for a cup of chamomile tea and unwrapped a frozen treat. 
 He straddled a chair and watched the kettle while he chomped on the pop. A glance at the clock told him it was three. It was dark outside, the house was still.

The question rolling through his mind, keeping him from sleeping was about Emmy. How can I make her quit singing and marry me? After seeing her again, the dim, but persistent feelings for her in his heart blossomed in full color, pushing out all other women. The man, who was content to be a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em kinda guy, had disappeared. 
Visions of Sunday mornings with Emmy, reading the paper, brunch, and making love filled his head.
“How do you tame a wild woman who’s got the world at her feet?” He said to no one. Buddy shook his head. In the dead silence, a scratching reverberated like a Velociraptor trying to break in. Buddy went to the back door and peered out. A whine drew his attention. A rail-thin pug dog, sitting on his back step, raised its huge eyes to Buddy’s. He stepped back and let the scruffy, dirty dog in.
“Look at you. You need a bath.” He picked up the small canine under the belly and hauled it into the bathroom.
When the dog was clean, Buddy boiled up a couple of eggs for the starving pooch. He gobbled them down then curled up at the wide receiver’s feet.
“Just what I need, a dog. Damn. I can’t take care of you. But you can stay tonight.”
Now, if he could find a way to have Emmy scratching at his door, life would be perfect.
He shook his head.
“Yeah. Good luck with that.” The dog barked.
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