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Friday, September 6, 2013


Is there a man in your past you'd like to revisit? Someone who you left too quickly? Do you wonder what he's like today?
Former ballerina, now choreographer, Dorrie Rodgers goes back for a "do-over" with each of  the three men she left behind. Did she leave them too quickly? Which will she choose? Or will she return to the one man who broke her heart?
Here are a few teasers. LEAVE A COMMENT AND YOUR EMAIL and I'll give away ONE copy of the book FRIDAY, SATURDAY AND SUNDAY!


Dorrie closed the gap between them, grabbing his lapels and pulling him to her for another kiss. This time, she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He responded immediately, crushing her against his chest. She lost her sense of time and place in the sensations his mouth and hands were creating. There was nothing for Dorrie but Archer Canfield and the heat burning through her veins as her need for him grew.                             ********************************************************************************

Dorrie closed her eyes and gave herself over to the experience. Rick was an expert lover, and all she had to do was lie back and enjoy it. Peeking out from slitted lids, she saw him rip his tie off and toss it on the floor. Soon his shirt and T-shirt followed. Unable to move her arms up, she bent her head and ran her lips, then her tongue, along his chest. A smattering of brown hair tickled her face as she licked him. His groan made her smile         *****************************************************
Dorrie followed him in, taking a big breath and plunging head first into the surf. When she surfaced, Johnny was treading water just beyond where the waves break. She swam toward him.

“Still got your suit?” he asked.
     “Yeah. Why?”
     “Hell, I’ve seen more fabric on a wallet than on you.”
“Are you complaining?” She stayed nearby, treading water.

He burst into laughter. “Never! Never complain about an almost naked woman.”
He’s still looking at me like that…                          ************************************************
Or Gunther Quill, the man who broke her heart?
  One puff of hot breath warming her ear alerted her to Gunther’s arrival. She jumped.
“If I was insecure, I’d think you were avoiding me,” he whispered, standing too close to her.
Dorrie’s heartbeat doubled as adrenaline poured into her veins. Fight or flight? Let me out of here. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she pasted a smile on her lips and turned to face him.
“Why Gunther, what a surprise.”
“You little liar. I texted you.”
“Did you? Can’t get those on the plane.”
    “Still playing tag with the truth,” he growled in a deep, low voice. “You’re avoiding me.” 
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Monday, September 2, 2013


Jonesy dragged her into the kitchen for a cup of tea, chatting about University gossip. She gave Dale a hug then left. She wandered about the big house, feeling lost. The pain in her heart was building. She fished out the wedding notice and, careful not to crumble the brittle newspaper, read it carefully. 
 She stared at the picture of the bride, grinning from ear to ear. Sylvia was beautiful. She wondered about Cliff. Had he been delirious with joy or depressed or sad at the time?

She sank down into the comfort of an overstuffed chair in the living room and watched chickadees eat at the bird feeder. 
 The memory of her wedding day flashed back. Anna had thrown herself into wedding plans with zeal. The dress had to be perfect –and it was. The venue had to be just right –and it was. Even the weather had to be warm enough and cool enough – and it was. Everything was spot on, except it was the wrong groom.

She remembered standing at the window, watching the crowd gather slowly. Anna had been called to a food emergency in the kitchen. Begging for a moment alone from her bridesmaids, Dale stood quietly, by herself, unable to stop the tears. 
 She couldn’t stop wishing it was Cliff, pacing nervously in the black tuxedo, Cliff who would be pledging to love her forever, and Cliff who would be making love to her that night. The feelings she experienced then flooded back into her heart. The agony of knowing she could have had her wish stung her like a thousand bees.   
 A crack of thunder indicated an autumn storm. Stupid to wish. Try to forget. It’s past. He’s gone. Let it go. She sighed briefly as she climbed the stairs. I can’t let it go. He hates me for something I didn’t do. Do I tell him? I must, but not now. She slipped under the covers of the bed in the master bedroom and was blessedly lost in sleep by six o’clock.