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Saturday, March 17, 2012

Sweet Saturday Sample of "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights"

Thank you for stopping by. Here is an excerpt from the opening chapter of Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights my first sweet romance.

 “You’re running away, Miss?” Harry, the butler, asked her.
“Yes, I am. I’ve had enough. Thank you for all your kindness over the past five years. You helped to make unbearable times better,” she said, warmly, shaking his hand.
Harry, a non-descript, plump, fifty-year-old man blushed, putting color in his sallow cheeks.
“Don’t know what’s wrong with Mr. White. When he has you here, why would he…? Well, it’s not for me to understand, I guess. But I wouldn’t be doin’ that if I were him.”
She was grateful for his sweetness, but it was time to get started. She had a long trip ahead. Caroline Davis White dashed into the sunroom to grab her sketchpad and her fawn pug when the doorbell rang.
“It’s Stanton Cauley, Mrs. White,” Harry said, returning to the sunroom.
Caroline went to greet her visitor, a tall, slim, attractive man with gray hair, dressed in casual pants and a button down shirt.
“Stan, nice to see you, but I was just going out. Is there a problem with the collection?” she asked, smoothing down her long blonde hair.
“No, no, Caroline. My people have packed up your paintings now that the show is over, and I wanted to deliver them to you personally.”
“That’s nice of you, but unnecessary,” she said, looking at her watch.
“You’re looking ravishing as ever,” he said, his eyes roving over her body, focusing too long on her cleavage, unconsciously licking his lips before raising his eyes to hers.
“I’d love to invite you for coffee, Stan, but as I said, I’m on my way out…” Caroline said, uneasy under his stare. She backed away from him, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
“Always working, Caroline, you’re such a gifted artist, but even a driven one takes time off to…ah…play once in a while,” he said.
“Yes, well, today is not the day for that, I’m afraid,” she said, moving toward the front door, hoping he would follow her.
“Come on, Caroline. Let’s stop beating around the bush. You know why I’m here.”
“Honestly, Stan, I don’t have a clue. But whatever it is will have to wait.”
“But love can’t wait.”
“That’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t pretend, Caroline. You know I want to have an affair with you. I’ve wanted it for a long time. Brad has his…other life…so why shouldn’t you have yours?”
Caroline’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“What happens between Brad and me is none of your business. I’m married, Stan, and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be interested in sleeping with you. Never have been, never will be. I suggest you leave.”
“Come, come, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time, believe me. We can sail away for the weekend together on my yacht. I’ll treat you well, just say the word.”
“No way. If Brad knew you were coming here with this…this proposition, he’d—” 
“But he does know. He thought if you had some diversion of your own, you wouldn’t mind so much if he had his,” Stan said, stepping closer and reaching for her hand.
Caroline moved back away from him.

Only $2.99 on Amazon & Barnes & Noble & Smashwords. Available in Paperback, too.

Can Caroline run away from her present and into her past? Can she hide out in the safe, summer community where she grew up and dodge a controlling, cheating husband? Can a new life spring from the ashes of an old one? Will Caroline be able leave her fancy life behind and build a new one on her own or will she need help from a new man?

Thursday, March 15, 2012


Welcome, Lee. Pull up a chair. No, try this one, much more comfy. Coffee's ready. Can I pour you a cup? Milk? Sugar?  First let's look at the gorgeous cover of Lee's new book.

Living in a Fantasy World

*waves* Hi, all. I’m Lee Brazil author of m/m romance for Breathless Press and The Story Orgy. *sips coffee* I live on Face Book in between writing. Why? Cause it makes writing less a solitary vocation. I have a myriad of friends with different interests and different perspectives, and we can have a lot of engaging conversations or just plain old fashioned fun. I find that having that outlet lets me refresh and go back to writing with enthusiasm.
And...sometimes, they give me something to think about that blossoms into something like this blog post.
A while ago Jean posted a hypothetical question in one of our writing groups. Here's the scenario. You're out to lunch. Across the room you see the significant other of a close friend, dining intimately with someone. Do you tell your friend? The implication, of course is that the SO is cheating on your friend.
On the surface it seems to be a yes or no question. Gut instinct tells me it's not. I thought briefly about it. And honestly, if I saw a man I knew lunching with a stranger in a public place, I'd just walk right up to the couple and say hi. If I knew the man's partner, especially if he were my friend, I'd probably ask how he's doing and suggest we all get together soon. Someone called my response an "affair killer". Maybe. But, anyone who is trying to hide what they're doing probably shouldn't be having lunch in a public place.
In retrospect, while that might be my first response, it kind of avoids the question being asked. The question really is, if you know your friend's lover is cheating on him, do you tell him?
That's more difficult. See, your friend is living in a fantasy world. He's in love with his partner, or thinks he is. He probably thinks his relationship is all roses and red wine and two heads on a pillow. He's looking at the world through rose colored glasses, and anyone who's ever been in love can tell you, those glasses make the world a very fine place. They make plain men beautiful, paupers princes, and flaws cute.
Without the glasses, the rose means I'm sorry I'm giving you this single flower because I feel guilty about something I'm doing. With the glasses, it means I love you, you're perfect, we belong together. With the glasses, the red wine is just the perfect little touch to an evening meal, the buzz on the ending of another day together. Without the glasses? The red wine clouds his judgment. He's so buzzed, he can't see clearly. The two heads on a pillow? Well...they're just sleeping tonight. *sips coffee*
Still, wearing those glasses, your friend is happy. Do you have the right to rip that away? Don't you want him to be happy?
What if you tell him, and he doesn't believe you?
Or...worse.  What if you tell him, and he gets mad at you for butting into his relationship? I mean, you don't know all the parameters of this couple's relationship dynamic. What if he already knows and doesn’t care? What if they have an open relationship? It's none of your business, is it? You risk coming off looking like an interfering busy body by talking to your friend.
And, there's one bottom line here. Your friend is going to get hurt living in that fantasy world. Surely that can't be good for him? Eventually, he's going to find out, and then...You'll have to pick up the pieces, maybe share a pitcher of margaritas or a gallon of moose track ice cream.'s my take. Let him have the fantasy, as long as it lasts. Sooner or later, if there's a problem, he's going to figure it out. At least then, after the margaritas and the ice cream, he'll have the fantasy to look back on. Don't rip off the band aid, don't steal his rose colored glasses. Just be there when he loses them.
That's what I'd do. What about you?

I hope you can take a few minutes to check out my March release, Loving Eden.

A little bit about the book
Eden St. Cyr wants to let the boy who's crushing on him down easy.Drew Harris wants to protect his son from what he considers a 
disastrous relationship.
Neither of them counted on being attracted to the other.
Eden St. Cyr has wandering feet.  He shuffles around the country from place to place and college to college, changing majors and lovers at whim. When Bailey Harris starts following him home, mooning around and showing signs of affection, Eden hatches a plan to let the kid down lightly before he leaves for the next semester, the next college, and the next lover.

Drew Harris is stunned at the changes in his son.  His responsible dependable, cheerful boy has become a moody despondent, irresponsible teenager. Drew knows exactly who to blame, too.  When Eden doesn’t return his phone calls, he's forced to be a little more devious in his plans to get the bad influence out of his son's life.

An unexpected attraction derails both men from their plans, but when Bailey walks in at the least appropriate time, can things be put right?
"You're one of Bailey's friends? I'm Drew, his Dad." The man asked, reaching down and picking up Eden's back pack.
"Yes," He mumbled in reply, striving to fight down the shivers of arousal that rippled through him with the deep voice. The effect from the answering machine was magnified in person. That voice was a caress in itself, stroking over his body, making him tingle with awareness.
"Let me show you where you'll be sleeping. I'm putting you in with Bailey. Sorry I can't stay and talk, but I've got to get down to the market in town and pick up some supplies for our weekend."
Eden willingly followed the man into the house and down a short hallway. Bailey's dad opened a door and gestured into the room. "Here you go. People should be arriving soon, but I hope to be back before anyone else gets here."
Eden stepped up to the doorway inadvertently brushing against that hard muscled body as he did so. Heat seared through his thin T-shirt and gooseflesh prickled his arms. He bit his lip to keep the moan inside, just nodding his head, too afraid that his arousal would show to speak. He ducked his head and made to move into the room, when a hard warm hand closed around his upper arm. He found himself turned to face Bailey's dad, and looked up into puzzled blue eyes.
"We'll talk later, yes?" The man asserted. Eden was trapped in the depths of those deep blue eyes and unable to utter a response. A big, calloused hand came up to cup Eden's jaw, thumb rubbing gently over the two-day growth of beard he hadn't bothered to shave. Shaking his head, Drew began to speak again but then his head tilted slightly to the side and his lips came down. Eden caught his breath in surprise. Surely Bailey's dad wasn't going to kiss him?
But he was. Warm dry lips pressed to his own briefly, sliding a little to the side, nipping lightly at his own lower lip. The gentle kiss swept right across his mouth in a brief warm touch that left him craving more. It had barely begun before Drew pulled away. Wow. Pressing his fingers to his still tingling lips, Eden stared after the handsome man who'd shown him his room. Definitely scrapping plan A for this weekend.

Sound good? 
Let's get to know Lee a little better
I’m an avid reader and former teacher of grammar and composition who believes that falling in love is the grandest adventure anyone can have.  In a nutshell, that’s every story I have to tell. 
Relocating from the crazy pace of life in Southern California's Orange County to the beautiful and leisurely atmosphere of the Illinois countryside has given me the time to indulge the desire to write that I set aside when I started teaching fourteen years ago. Readers can find out more about me and my writing by visiting me at my blog, Lee's Musings or finding me on Facebook.  Feel free to drop me a line at 

Monday, March 12, 2012


First story in the Hollywood Hearts series. This WIP doesn't have a name yet.

“I always said, he’s got the looks, the charm and she’s got the brains.” Mary Davis’ voice carried beyond the master bedroom.
“Shhh, she’ll hear you.” Her father shut the door.
Those words had been ringing in Megan’s head since she was eight. And she couldn’t disagree. Her twin brother, Mark was blond, blue-eyed and gorgeous. Megan had straight brown hair and dark brown eyes, nothing to write home about. Everyone loved the outgoing Mark Davis and few knew his shy sister, Megan.
On the football field her beloved brother could complete more passes than any other quarterback in his high school or college. Megan maintained a 3.8 average without breaking a sweat. They both attended Wellington College in Pennsylvania where Megan gave her brother a leg up with his schoolwork and he helped her get dates.
After graduation, Mark headed for the Delaware Demons, eventually becoming their starting quarterback while Megan headed to Harvard Business School.
New York City – ten years later.
Megan knocked on the door of her brother’s room.
“Get up, you two. Breakfast is ready and I’ve got to go.”
She heard a rumbling noise then the sound of large feet hitting the floor. A few seconds later her handsome brother opened the door. Scratching his stubbly face and wearing only boxers he yawned.
“Timing has never been your strong suit, Meg.”
She led him to the breakfast nook. A few paces behind him, an embarrassed Penny Davis, Mark’s wife, was fastening her robe.
“Sorry but it’s my first day and I need to be on time.”
“Penny and I can make our own breakfast…when we’re ready, you know.”
Megan turned and flashed a one thousand watt smile at her brother.
“I like to do it when you’re here. Part of my concierge service.” Megan placed two plates with scrambled eggs and bacon on the table.The six foot four inch athlete shoved his sister playfully in the shoulder and folded his large frame into a seat.
“Still not sure this ‘arrangement’ is such a good idea.” Mark picked up a mug of coffee prepared the way he liked with a dash of sugar and plenty of milk. Penny slid into the seat next to Mark and sipped her coffee.
“Ten years from now, you’ll be glad you have this money.”
“Collecting rent from my sister feels…wrong somehow.”
“I have to pay rent to someone. You own this place, I pay rent into a fund for college for your kids...a win win.”
“Don’t have any kids…yet. And if you keep interrupting like that…we won’t!”
 “Very funny, Mark.”
He leaned over and kissed his wife.
“I’m your financial planner and I know what’s best for your future…both of you.” Megan brushed off her suit jacket.
“If you say so. It’s all Greek to me.” Mark picked up his fork and tucked into the eggs on the plate in front of him.
“Someone has to protect your money, Mark. You sure as hell can’t do it.”
“Got that right. But you can’t throw a pass either.”
Megan put her empty mug down on the table.
“Good luck today, Meg.” Mark squeezed her forearm gently.
“Thanks, Big Guy.” Megan bent down and kissed the top of Mark’s head and shot a smile at Penny before she picked up her briefcase and went out the door.