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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.