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Friday, September 29, 2017

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - Holiday cheer coming early this year!

Have you ever read a contemporary Christmas fairy tale before? There's always a first time. 

At Christmas, Laura Fleming lived her fantasy adventure. Paid to house-sit for the fabulously wealthy financier, C.W. Banley, while he traveled, she eagerly headed for New York City. As mistress of his elegant townhouse, she baked cookies and dressed the old gent’s richly-furnished residence for the holidays.
As December rolled around, the lonely, lovely writer eagerly anticipated soaking up the Christmas atmosphere in the grand city. With only the cat for company, she’d turn Banley’s elegant home into a wonderland of sparkling lights, fragrant garland, and shiny tinsel. 
Every year, she wished, in vain, for a happy ending. Will this be the year that Miss Fleming discovers her dreams can come true, even in a big city, like New York?
A sweet, New York City Christmas Fairy Tale.
CAUTION: There is some violence, and a bit of cursing, but no sex.  

Here's an excerpt:

Episode One

 Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan Island. And, it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic.
The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help—the house-sitter, paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays.
This was Laura’s third year house-sitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him—but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.
A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity, and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door, and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic.
“First time in the City?” he asked, while they waited at a stop light.
“Oh, no. I’ve been coming during the holidays for several years.”
“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”
“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”
“You own a place here too?”
She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”
“Now that’s a great gig!”
“You bet it is,” she agreed.
Laura looked out the window as the chauffeur maneuvered his way through congested Amsterdam Avenue. All the restaurants, and even the delis, had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with holiday decorations or elaborately decorated trees in the windows.
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid, then handed her a sealed envelope. Laura gazed at the beautiful, cream-colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her.
The winter sky turned teal blue as the sun set. She climbed the steps to the carved, wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries, and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She ripped open the envelope and retrieved the front door key. She smiled. Mr. Banley was a bear about security and would never leave a key under a mat. Eager to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate 
Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant, or a cookie, waiting too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into luxury she could only dream about.

Find it here for only $2.99 for the ebook:

Tuesday, August 8, 2017


“Why do they hire pretty girls to sell hot dogs?” Dan asked his teammate, Jake Lawrence, in the next shower stall.
“Guess they sell more dogs,” Jake said, lathering up his hair.
“That must be it. The new one I just met is fine.”
“Yeah? What about what’s-her-name?”
“That’s it. What about her?”
“This girl sells hot dogs, Jake. Get real. You don’t think Mr. All Star Pitcher would hook up with a Hot Dog Girl, do you?” Matt Jackson piped up from the other room.
“If she’s hot, and he’s a horndog, sure. Why not?” Jake said, rinsing off.
“She didn’t look like a Hot Dog Girl,” Dan said, wrapping a towel around his hips.
“Probably one of Bud’s charity cases,” Jake said.
“Yeah, a hooker or a drug addict.” Matt stripped off his clothes.
“She didn’t look like either. Kind of classy.” Dan headed for his locker.
“You’d give up a great blow job from Valerie for a Hot Dog Girl?” Matt stepped under the running water.
Jake snickered. “You never know. This girl might give more than hot dogs, Matt.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not giving up Valerie. Just curious.” Dan pulled on jeans.
“Damn! I was already dialing her number,” Jake said.
Dan snorted. “Like you’d ever have a chance with her.”
“What makes you think I haven’t?” Jake cocked an eyebrow.
“Why, you fuckin’ asshole!” Dan bunched Jake’s shirt in his fist.
“Keep your fuckin’ pants on, Mr. All Star. I never touched her.”
“And you’d better not.”
Jake smoothed the fabric across his hard chest. “Geez. Pretty touchy for a guy checkin’ out other chicks.”
“Boys, boys,” Matt said, imitating a mother’s voice. “No fighting. We’re all on the same team.”
“Leave my girl alone,” grumbled Dan.
“I don’t need your girl. I’ve got plenty of my own,” Jake said, zipping up his pants. “It’s Matt who needs some hand-me-downs.”
Dan laughed. “That’s right. Got some rejects for him, Jake?”
Jake whipped out his phone. “Let’s see.”
“Fuck off! I don’t need anyone’s rejects. I can find my own babe,” Matt said, heading out the door.
“You need something!” Jake called after him, but Matt was already gone. “You really checking out hot dog chicks?” he asked, while tying his shoes.
“Naw. Ran into Bud. He introduced me. She’s cute. That’s all. You’re right. She’s a Hot Dog Girl. Not in my league.”

Dan combed his short, brown hair and headed for his car. The fullness of the girl’s lips and the curve of her hips stayed with him. She didn’t look like the usual stray Bud Magee dragged in and hired. This one was different. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about her that made him curious. He wanted to know her story. His intuition told him she had one, and it was probably a doozy.





Thursday, June 22, 2017


Coming soon, Bobby Hernandez, Second Base. 
Bottom of the Ninth, book 5
This book can stand alone. 

A bit about the book:

Star Nighthawk second baseman, Bobby Hernandez shunned groupies looking to share his bed and his bank account. Seeking a woman who would recapture the Dominican culture he’d lost was like finding a four-leaf clover…until he met smart, sassy, in-your-face Elena Delgado, newbie reporter.
A confrontation, and a hostile interview couldn’t cool the sparks igniting between them. Secrets smoldered. Lies revealed. Could Bobby stop protecting his heart and take a leap of faith? Would Elena risk everything for him, or sell him down the river to get ahead? 
Caution: locker room language.

A taste of the book. Please note that this excerpt has not been professionally edited yet. 


“Is that you?”
Anita Mendoza tossed an open copy of the magazine, Celebs ‘R Us, on her desk. 
“Don’t play with me, Elena. Are you that woman, in the picture? The one who dumped a drink on Bobby Hernandez?
Elena Delgado, sat across from her boss, editor-in-chief of Hoy!, a New York City Spanish language newspaper. The young reporter crossed and re-crossed her legs. She shifted in her seat.
“Are you?” Anita sat forward, her eyes blazing, her brows drawn down.
“Okay. Yes. That’s me.”
“What the Hell?”
“He was being obnoxious. Coming on to Tina.”
“Tina? That flirt? And I suppose she had nothing to do with it? He just wandered over from the bar and hit on Tina?”
Elena looked down at her hands. “Well, no. Not exactly.”
“I didn’t think so. Why did you take her there? You know how she is. Every time she sees an attractive man, she has to add him to her list.”
“She’s only eighteen. She wanted to meet him.”
“And how did you know where he was?”
“I looked him up on the Internet. The Hide-Out was listed under ‘favorite places’.”
Anita shook her head slowly. “You have a temper, Elena. You’re going to have to curb it.”
“I was only protecting Tina.”
“You want to protect Tina? Take her to a movie.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what the big deal is. The picture only shows my back.”
Anita sat back, an inscrutable smile on her face.
“I know that look. Whatever you’re thinking, forget it.” She waved her hand.
“Yesterday I received a reply to my request.”
“What request?” Elena asked, sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“To interview Mr. Hernandez.”
“What?” Elena rose halfway out of her seat.
“That’s right. He’s an important member of the Hispanic community. He’s risen to the top, worked hard, used his talent, and has succeeded. He’s a role model. And we’re going to interview him.” Anita smiled.
Elena plucked a tissue from her purse and mopped her face. “Some role model, hitting on young girls.”
“Tina is eighteen. She could have walked away.”
“Fine. You’re giving the story to Luis, right? He loves baseball.”
“Nope. I’m giving it to you.”
“What? Oh no, you’re not. I’m not interviewing that jerk.” Elena shook her head.
“Oh yes you are. I don’t need some suck-up to interview this man. I want a real reporter. One who will ask the hard questions. And that’s you.”
“No, it isn’t me.”
“Oh yes, it is. And this story here,” Anita poked the magazine, “just confirms what I’ve thought all along–you have guts and are not afraid to speak up. You’ll get an in-depth interview. One that goes beyond the surface and the adoration. Yours will be worth reading. That’s why you’re doing the interview.”
“I’m not interviewing that man.”
“Then you’d better call unemployment,” Anita said, her voice low.
“You’re kidding, right? You’d fire me over this?”
“Damn right I would. I’m the boss, Elena. And if you can’t respect that and take the assignments you’re given, then you can damn well work someplace else.” Anita’s lips compressed into a thin line.
Elena recognized that look. There was no arguing.
“What a great opportunity to apologize for humiliating the man in public! He’s very attractive, you could do worse than to spend a couple of hours in his company,” Anita said, sitting back, twirling her pen.
“Yeah, yeah. If you say I have to do it, I will,” Elena said, tamping down her anger.
“Here,” the boss lady leaned forward, holding out a piece of paper. “The front office gave me his cell. Get going. Make it a long interview. We’ll do it as a two-parter. Get more bang from the buck.” She laughed. “Bang! Eh, Elena? I doubt that will apply to you though, right? Unless it’s a bang in the head with a baseball bat.”
“Okay. Don’t rub it in. No, I don’t like him. But I’m a professional. I’ll do the interview.”
“Good. Have the rough draft on my desk in ten days,” Anita said, picking up her phone.
That was Elena’s signal to leave. She pushed up from her chair and headed back to her cubicle. Her heart sank. Last thing she wanted was to see that asshole, Bobby Hernandez, again. Fortunately, the story in Celebs ‘R Us gave Anita a plausible excuse for Elena to object. Then she’d never have to admit the real reason to her boss.


The book should be published within two weeks. If you'd be interested in reviewing an ARC, please email me at: 
Put BOBBY ARC in the subject line. 

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

FREE eBook! GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK - Cheap-o Audio book #free #romance #sportsromance #football

FREE, for the first time! 
And the audio book is also available -- dirt cheap!

A bit about the book:

He wants to find a wife. She doesn’t want to marry again –ever. Not exactly a match made in heaven. Or are they? Ten years ago, Griff Montgomery, star quarterback of the Kings and womanizer, became a stand-in father for his widowed sister’s kids. His happy family life collapsed when she and her new husband moved to California.  Griff wants his own family. But where does a “player” go to find his ideal mate?

Having sworn off marriage forever, Lauren Farraday barely kept her life together after her divorce. With her career shaky and depression closing in, the last thing she needed was a courtroom battle with a sexy athlete.

Forced, by a judge, into an uneasy truce, the pair denied their growing chemistry. Wary of Griff’s reputation with women, and hiding a secret, Lauren keeps him at arm’s length. Determined, Griff  marches toward his goal. Can the quarterback handle the truth or will he walk away, like he always has in the past?      


“Even better.” Carla licked her lips. “I’ll bet she has no idea you’re having sexual fantasies about her.”
“I’m not. It was an accident,” he hissed.
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Wonder what she’d think if she knew?”
“Don’t, Carla. Please don’t. I’m begging you.” Griff reached for her arm, but she shook him off.
Buddy faced the quarterback. “What the hell did you do?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Oh no. You didn’t?” His eyebrows rose.
Griff nodded. “Guilty.”
“Whoa, stand back, Tony. There’s gonna be some fireworks in a minute.” Buddy pushed Hastings to the wall.
“You wouldn’t be lying, now, would ya?” Carla asked, directing her stare at Buddy.
“See for yourself.” He gestured to the brunette at the corner table.
“Lauren!” Carla cupped her hands and yelled.
Lauren stood up, turning to face them.
“You Lauren?”
“Please, please, Carla. I’m sorry, so sorry,” Griff whispered. “Don’t do this.”

Monday, April 24, 2017

What people are saying about NAT OWEN, FIRST BASE...
"This series just gets better and better. This time we have a male protagonist, Nat, who has to deal with more than the usual tough decisions brought on by his past and current circumstances. Throw in a heady mix of temptation, a feeling that he needs to grab the bull by the horns because, if nothing else, fame is fleeting and he's got one shot to really hit the spotlight, and you have a very real conundrum for a man who wants to do right by everyone. In other words, he's blinded by success and making some poor choices he'll live to regret. Naturally one of those regrets has to be Nicki who tries hard but comes up short enough she's forced into making mistakes that mirror Nat's.

Their journeys and the consequences each must deal with makes for a very realistic scenario, and I will admit, my pompoms beat wildly for Nicki and maybe not so much for Nat, but in the end, he managed to win me over... big time.

The writing, as always, is crisp and on point, and it draws you completely into this very competitive and demanding world of professional sports. But Nat Owen, First Base goes that extra mile and takes you into the uncomfortable world of reality checks when ambition and fame seriously conflict with what makes their star players and everyone close to them tick. The ending is satisfying and I'm eagerly looking forward to more books in this excellent sports romance series."
Beach Bum Books

Find it in ebook and paperback here:



Friday, April 7, 2017


A sneak peek at Nat Owen, First Base.
A gritty, realistic, baseball romance. It marries real life with fiction. No sugar coating, no cookie cutter characters in this story. Here's a small piece, anything larger would give away too much. Plenty of twists to keep you on the edge of your seat.
Out of my comfort zone, but a story I love...

The club had a neon sign on the front. The drum from the live music inside reverberated like the beat of a huge heart. Nicki tapped her foot while she waited for her escorts...
Two burly men stood by the entrance, their arms crossed over their impressive chests. Nicki chuckled to herself. If she had come alone, she probably wouldn’t stand a chance of getting in. But with Skip and Bobby, easy peasy.
“Private party tonight, lady,” one of the men said to Nicki.
The bouncers recognized the Nighthawks and greeted them with smiles and handshakes.
“It’s a private party tonight, gentlemen,” the dark-haired bouncer said.
“Nat Owen’s inside. First base? He invited us,” Skip lied.
The big man nodded. “Yeah. I saw him.” He stood aside for the men but closed his meaty fingers around Nicki’s arm. “Just a minute, sister.”
“She’s with us,” Bobby said, putting his arm around Nicki’s shoulders.
“Any friend of yours is welcome, Mr. Hernandez,” the man said, releasing her arm and stepping back.
“Bobby, please.”
The man smiled, and the three were admitted. Inside the club was dark. Purple and magenta lights strobed across the room, highlighting people on the dance floor and at the bar in lurid shades, adding a surreal effect. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. She snaked her arm around Bobby’s waist and clung to him.
Totally at home on the softball diamond, Nicki was out of her element in this tony, upscale nightclub. Bobby squeezed her shoulder, glanced down at her and grinned. She shifted her gaze to the dance floor. The brightness of a too-blonde head bouncing to the beat attracted her eye. Lucy and Nat were grinding together to the music. Nicki’s heart sank. She turned to leave.
“Come on, Nick. We just got here,” Bobby said, taking her elbow and escorting her to the bar. “Whatcha drinkin’?”
Instantly, she got why Dusty had tried to discourage her from coming. Did she really want to see Nat and Lucy practically doing it on the dance floor?

Up for pre-order (releasing next week):








Friday, March 31, 2017

Sneak Peek - Nat Owen, First Base - Book 4 in the Bottom of the Ninth series

How many times have you read about an athlete making it to the top and then crashing and  burning? It seems to happen all the time. I couldn't write about sports without addressing how hard it is for some top athletes to handle success. And thus, Nat Owen, First Base, was born. 

A bit about the book:

What would you do if Lucy Albright, the hottest new female country music singer, asked you to come up to her place?
Nat Owen, formerly nobody from nowhere, now World Series MVP, followed his instincts. The star first baseman fell under the spell of the singer the minute she batted her eyelashes at him.
What about Nicki? Were they only friends, or about to become more? The female pro softball catcher and the first baseman had chemistry. Just as Nat made his move on Nicki, Lucy strutted into his life, offering stardom, glitter, and a lifestyle he could only dream about.  

What’s a man to do? With his head in one place and his heart in another, Nat bounced from one to the other, trying to make up his mind. When an offer he couldn’t refuse was dangled in front of him, he went for it. Little did he know, he had a lot more to lose than his heart. 

Here's the Sneak Peek:

Caution - this excerpt has not been through final proofing or editing yet. 
Chapter One

Nat Owen, World Series Nighthawks MVP, stumbled into a taxi in front of a hotel in midtown Manhattan. Hung over from celebrating, he’d spent the night with Lucy Albright, CMA’s top female country vocalist.
Memories of last night floated through a haze of alcohol. He remembered that someone had offered him pills, and there was white powder on a mirror going up someone’s nose. He’d turned away from the drugs. He’d never taken drugs of any kind. Alcohol was a different story.
Since his intake was restricted during the season, his capacity for liquor had dropped to practically zero. It had saved him a shitload of money since he could get a buzz from only two beers. The celebrations had been champagne all the way. Lucy’s entourage had refilled his glass time and again, so he had no idea how much he’d drunk. It must have been plenty because he had a thirst that wouldn’t quit and a pounding in his head like nobody’s business.
Once inside his apartment, he downed two bottles of water. Then he opened the egg sandwich he’d picked up at the deli and took a bite. Next, he filled the coffee pot and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. After wolfing down his sandwich, he popped three pain pills and washed them down with coffee.
He took a large mug of java into the living room where he sprawled on the sofa. Kicking off his shoes, he rested his feet on the coffee table. Eyes shut, he tried to recreate last evening in his mind. Had he slept with Lucy? He couldn’t remember. Retrieving his wallet, he flipped it open and, sure enough, a condom was missing.
Country music played in his brain. That’s right, Lucy and two members of her band had harmonized. He remembered a platter of sandwiches. More champagne. Someone took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
A vision of Lucy taking off her clothes popped up. Wow! Yeah. Lucy naked came back to him, clear as a bell. He’d been on the bed, and she had been riding him like a cowgirl. Her large breasts had bounced in his face. Oh, yes, it was all coming back.
Nat padded into the kitchen for a java refill but stopped to down two glasses of water first. Hell, he’d never been this thirsty in his life. As the pain receded, he grinned. Skinny, little Nat Owen from Willow Falls had banged Lucy Albright, country music star. Raised to be a gentleman, Nat wouldn’t brag to the guys about his conquest, but they’d probably guess anyway and tease the hell out of him.
Wouldn’t the folks back home be surprised? He’d been the smallest kid in his third-grade class. The fourth child of seven, he’d never been anything special. His siblings went out of their way to remind him of that every day. Whenever he acted up, his mother would turn a stone-cold eye on him and yell, “Who do you think you are?”
Hell, Nat Owen didn’t think he was anybody at all until baseball came along. What would they think of their little brother now? World Series MVP and Lucy Albright’s lover—all in one week—was more than a regular guy could believe.
After hydrating himself and popping a couple more painkillers, Nat flopped into bed and zonked out for the rest of the day. As the sun set, he awoke to the sound of text messages popping up on his phone. He read Bobby’s first.

                 Where the hell are you? Party at Matt’s starts NOW

Then Skip’s:

                 Free food and booze at Matt’s. Where are you?

Then Jake’s:

                 Missing a great party, asshole. Get to Matt’s now!

Bleary-eyed, half-asleep, and with a mouth as dry as month-old bread, Nat wracked his brain trying to remember what his friends were talking about. Then it hit him! Dusty, Matt’s fiancĂ©e, and Nicki Overton, her teammate, were making a huge pot of chili, salad, and cakes. Matt was buying a keg and a victory party had been scheduled.
The thought of chili and beer made Nat retch. He ran to the bathroom. The warm bed with soft sheets called to him. But he’d promised the guys he’d go. He was the guest of honor, so he had to show up. Then there was Nicki.
Nat had noticed Nicki when she first showed up with Dusty at Freddie’s Bar & Grill—the New York Nighthawks’ hangout. Dusty’s sidekick was the prettiest catcher he had ever seen. She had chin-length soft brown hair, huge, translucent, light turquoise eyes, and a wiry, athletic build. She played on the same women’s softball team as Dusty.
  Nicki was the first professional softball player he’d met, besides Matt’s girl. They played on the New York Queens. Along with his teammates, he’d watched Nicki handle the job with cool-headed intelligence and grace. Matt and Dusty’s connection intrigued Nat. He’d never dated a female athlete before and wondered if a man and a woman playing the same sport agreed about it or fought about it. Couldn’t help but wonder if the sex was better.
He had quizzed his teammate about Dusty, never about the sex part, though he had been curious. Matt would probably laugh in his face, anyway, or punch him out. He wasn’t the kind to kiss and tell. Just twenty-nine with his career in full swing, Nat had it all—except a steady girlfriend. From time to time, he’d hook up with a girl on the road. The sex wasn’t great, but it was good enough—hell, better than no sex.
He’d wondered about that. All the guys on the team living with women appeared happier, calmer. Nat figured relationship sex must be head-and-shoulders above the get-it-while-you-can kind. He’d never had a steady girl, even in high school. At sixteen, he’d had to go to baseball practice every day after school and on Saturdays. With seven kids in his house, on Sundays, he worked at the ice cream parlor in town to help support the family. There was no time or money for dating.
Once he got into pro ball, women crawled all over him. He had flitted from flower to flower, seeing no reason to deny himself or every attractive woman who wanted a piece of him. He didn’t get puffed up about his success. Not Nat, he’d been humbled by his hardscrabble early life. Grateful to baseball for lifting him up from a going-nowhere existence, he’d focused most of his energy on staying sharp. He had worked out, practiced like a maniac, and had made it to the top.
Tomcatting on the road had lost its luster. As his teammates settled into solid relationships and prepared for marriage, there were fewer and fewer guys hitting the bars. He wanted a woman who he could talk to, about the game, life, whatever. Banging a steady diet of different women left him needing something more.
He wanted what his teammates had—a girl he could count on. The time had come for Nat Owen to admit that being on his own didn’t cut it. He needed to grow up, find a good woman, and make a commitment. Easier said than done.


Not your "cookie cutter" sports romance, Nat Owen, First Base will make you mad, make you cry, make you laugh and keep you turning the pages until you're done! 

It's up for pre-order now. Release date is scheduled for April 18. Find it here:

Coming soon to paperback and audio. 

Check out the other books in the Bottom of the Ninth series: