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Thursday, February 11, 2016


Inspired by a certain reality TV program where a man is looking for a wife, Harley's story is one that came to me when I was writing the Hollywood Hearts series. His story was supposed to be book six, but Gunther Quill pushed him out of the way and took over book 6 for his own story. 

I didn't want to have a 7 book series, so Harley's story went on the shelf.  But the story lived and grew in my head. When I started the football series, I got the idea that Harley's story would fit here perfectly. So here it is: 
Harley Brennan and Shyla Hollings agreed to part company to follow their careers. It was a mutual decision. The star running back had no problem getting dates, but never the right dates. After one year spent trying to replace the only woman he’d ever loved, he declared defeat. Until the reality TV show, Marriage Minded, approached him.
     Harley flew to L.A. after the Super Bowl, ready to find his new soul mate. Bumping into Shyla at the airport didn’t give him a clue that she’d be behind the scenes, designing the sets for the program. And she didn’t tell him.  Was Fate playing a hand, bringing them together? If so, Harley had to admit, Fate had lousy timing.
Convinced his life was heading for a touchdown, Harley’s confidence was high, until his luck ran out. Would the running back get knocked out of the game or sprint to victory?    
A unique combination of reality TV show surprises, football action, humor, and steamy love scenes, HARLEY BRENNAN, RUNNING BACK, will keep you guessing until the last scene.

It's up for pre-order on Amazon. Here
It will be out in paperback within two weeks. And an audio book is planned. 

The book is still with the editor, so I have to share an unedited snippet: 

“So you won the Super Bowl, now you’re looking for a wife?”
He nodded. “That’s about it.”
“I can’t believe you can’t find one on your own.”
“All those groupies in bars aren’t exactly the girls I want to take home to mother.”
“That would be quite a trip, since your mom’s been gone five years now.”
He almost spit out champagne. She laughed and handed him a napkin.
“Nice way to talk about my mother.”
“None of your teammates can fix you up with the perfect girl?” She arched an eyebrow.
“If they could, would I be sitting here?”
She shrugged. “Guess not. Well, they can’t all be me.” Mischief twinkled in her eyes.
He grinned. “You got that right.”
The steward brought out caviar on toast, which they gobbled down. They dined on filet mignon, cooked medium. Harley thought he’d lose it when she pulled out the same book that he had finished the month before.
“Damn it, Shy. Why do you have to be so much like me?”
“A man-whore?”
“You know what I mean. I read Grafton’s latest book last month.”
She laughed. “My male twin. Oops, that would make us incest.”
He smiled before replying, “Is there an ‘us’?”
Color crept up to her cheeks. She turned away, peering out into the blackness of night.
“I guess not. Not if you’re on the quest for connubial bliss with someone else.” 

Come on board for a wild ride through reality TV twists and turns, football action with unexpected consequences and a happy ending you'll never see coming. Pre-order your copy now, here.


Monday, February 8, 2016


Welcome! This week we have our choice of any one of four pictures of windows. This one is my choice as I continue Harley's story. We are restricted to 300 words only. Return to Tuesday Tales at the bottom of the page. 


     Shyla wrapped a towel around her freshly-showered body and sat by the window. The crew was lucky to have rooms facing the beach. Off season? She smiled and rested her chin in her hands. Memories of playing on the deserted beach at six a.m. with Harley in Costa Rica danced through her brain.

At his suggestion, they’d shucked their suits to skinny dip in the warm, clear water. Floating on her belly, Shyla had rested her face on the surface, her eyes open, staring at the multitude of tiny, colorful fish.  She’d never seen anything like them. She grabbed him and pointed to her find. He held his breath and watched with her.
     The cook, a true romantic, whipped up a small breakfast delight and packed it up with two café frío drinks – coffee with chocolate and whipped cream. They dried off, spread out a blanket under the shade of a palm tree, and dined on scrambled eggs and fresh fruit.

Feeding strawberries and kiwi to each other had led to lovemaking. She sighed, remembering the passion, mixed with the naughtiness of being so intimate on the sand. Their physical chemistry always led them there. She had missed that with other men. And now it was over. She lingered, kneeling on a chair, letting the soft, moist Caribbean breeze caress her face one more time. After all, her suitcase was packed. Nothing left to do but dress.
     The knock on her door brought her back to reality.
     “You’re not ready yet? Let’s go,” Dan said, returning to the hall.
     Unable to tear her gaze from the scenery, she dressed by rote. It had been too short, this island visit. And it had ended badly. But she wouldn’t think about that until she got stateside. Plenty of time for a pity party then.

     Thanks for stopping by.


Monday, February 1, 2016


   Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. The word prompt this week is "stolen". We continue with Harley's story, but today it's from Shyla's point of view. 

   As she stood at her window, looking out on the island paradise, Shyla wondered how she and Harley could have built such a strong relationship on the handful of stolen hours they'd shared. 
   She crept quietly out of the room she shared with Biana, her intern, and walked along the deserted beach. At six a.m. she was the only one. She leaned back against a palm tree, enjoying a moment of shade.
   What started at the wedding in Costa Rica continued when they returned stateside. She had been between gigs, so she bunked in with him in his gorgeous, modern house in little Monroe, New York. 
   Two weeks of total bliss. They were never out of sight or touch with each other. Nights were spent making love and talking until three. She'd swore they would never run out of things to say. The snatches of time together continued for a year. Then they agreed that their work needed to come first and they parted. 
   Now here she was, advising him on the women vying for his attention and his hand in marriage. Her stomach clenched. This was not a place she wanted to be, yet she had only herself to blame. 
   "Penny for your thoughts," a deep behind her said. 
   Harley was there, grinning. She smiled. 
   "So who's the bad girl today? And who should I be pursuing?"
   One stab of pain shot through her heart. "Ruth is too timid for you. And Clara has other things on her mind. She's texting constantly with someone. Vanessa's still the best."
   "Really? I might have other ideas about that." He said stepping too close to her. They were alone. 
   She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't stop herself as she leaned into his arms. 
The kiss was sweet, succulent and familiar. He came to his senses first. 
"I've got to stop doing that."
"I suppose."
"You're not helping."
"What did I do?"
"You just stood there."


Thanks for coming. Don't forget to read the others and you can find them HERE

Monday, January 25, 2016


Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. The word prompt is "wood". Harley's story continues. Don't forget to zip back and read all the stories on Tuesday Tales. Link below. 


It was the hardest thing Shyla had ever done –putting Harley’s best interest before her own wants and desires. She remained hidden week after week as he squired different women to the glamorous settings she crafted. Harley deserves to find true love.  Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that that love should come from her.
She had taken to eavesdropping on the girls when Harley was away on dates. The young women hung out at the pool, some in the enormous, wood hot tub, drinking, gossiping and getting to know each other. Alliances were formed and enemies were made.

Shy gulped when she overheard them talking about him like he was a prize, the brass ring on the carousel. She had to snicker to see him objectified by the young ladies. They discussed his looks, especially his body, in detail. Does this happen in his locker room? Is this the way men talk about women? Men are probably cruder. Yet she was surprised at how crude some of the contestants vying for his hand in marriage could be.
Sitting in the shade, a redhead named Cathy, raised a pina colada to her lips.
“He’s on another date with Vanessa,” the blonde, Amber said, taking the lounge chair next to Cathy.  

“I know. That bitch. She’s not here for the right reasons.”
“You can say that again.” The attractive woman flagged down a waiter and ordered a drink.
Shyla sat sipping iced coffee on the other side of the foliage that separated the pool from the hot tub. 

Her producer, Sarah, joined her.
“Listening to them, it’s amazing any of them get chosen,” she said, shaking her head.

“They can be a bit vicious,” Shy agreed.


Monday, January 18, 2016


Welcome! The word prompt this week is "paint". We are still on Harley and Shyla's story. Last week we learned that Shyla has been hired to do the set decoration on the TV show Marriage Minded where Harley is a contestant, looking for a wife. Their story continues...
Don't forget to click below to go to the other Tuesday Tales. 


Helen, huh? Using Harley. What if he picks her, thinking she’s in love with him? I’ve got to warn him. But how? He doesn’t want to talk to me.
Shyla’s ability to focus on a book evaporated, pushed out of her head by a new obsession –save Harley from the grasping Helen. She got his room number from Sarah. After slipping a note under his door, she waited by the phone. She flipped the news on the television, stretched out, and fell asleep.
At one, the phone woke her. She yawned.
“Harley?” She yawned.
“I told you to leave me alone.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About one of the women.”
“Oh?” The annoyance left his voice, replaced by curiosity. “And what do you know about them? Have you been meddling?”
“I overheard stuff. I was in the gift shop, getting world’s most over-priced bathing suit.”
“What did you overhear?”
Shyla sat up and crossed her legs as she recreated Helen's story about launching an acting career after she hooked Harley. He was silent, listening.
“Hmm. Helen, huh? Yeah, I know her. She keeps coming around. I think the other girls are beginning to get annoyed.”
“I just thought you should know what her motive is. Why she’s here. What she’s after.”
“I get it.”
There was silence.
“Thanks. Thanks for telling me,” he said.
“I don’t want you to get taken for a ride, Harley.”
“No one could give me a ride like you did.”
“It wasn’t a ride. I meant everything.”
“I know, I know. Forget it. Thanks again. Gotta go.”
“Good night,” she said. The set designer pushed up from her bed and padded to the bathroom where she washed up. After stripping off her clothes, she got into bed. She wasn't sleepy, so she
turned to peek out the window. Moonlight painted the palm leaves silver. St. Thomas is the most romantic place outside of Paris. The idea of the City of Light brought her obligations to her father and brother to mind. 
She closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander to the secluded condo where Harley would be having dinner with his next date on the morrow. Colors, fabrics, candles and scents swirled through her brain.  I’ll pretend he’s having dinner there with me. She drifted off to sleep.