Monthly Archives: October 2014

Thursday Thread with Author Sandra Harris!

Today’s featured author is Sandra Harris, who has written the novel, Love, Encoded.

Love Encoded Cover Small

Title: Love, Encoded
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
Heat Level: Sizzling
Buy Link:
Book 1 in the Selected Evolution Series

Do you really know who you are? What you are?

Earth: Near Future
Experience has taught Sarah Rasmussen that hot guys don’t go for geeks like her. Their retreat speed is usually proportional to the value of her IQ. However, for every rule it seems there is an exception—or in her lucky case, two.

When confronted with the disturbing fact she has been genetically manipulated in order to save an alien race stranded on Earth for a thousand years, she needs the strength of the men’s devotion to deal with the life-changing news. But when she learns that the love of the two men she has come to care for deeply is not quite as it appears, it could shatter her heart forever.

Nick Bannister and Adam McKeoun will never stop fighting to convince Sarah she is their world, no matter what the source of their emotion. They will let nothing stand in their way of forging a happiness that will transcend any challenge, especially not a calculating and determined enemy bent on Sarah’s destruction.

Fear coated Sarah Rasmussen’s harsh, rapid breath.
Her feet pounded over the uneven, dirt track and she pushed her body hard to keep the pace up a rise. Through the thick, early morning mist the familiar stippled trunks of spotted gum loomed like every nightmare she’d ever had. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against her ribcage and her ears strained to catch the slightest sound of her pursuer.
She pulled to an abrupt halt, heaving cold air into her starved lungs, then struggled against her desperate need for oxygen to smother her gasping breath and listen. Through the mist the echo of footsteps slowed, halted. Sickening apprehension corkscrewed through her stomach. A shiver prickled her heated skin.
She tried to force some semblance of calm over her panicking wits, but her instincts would not be denied. The fact that initially an unseen runner seemed to play cat and mouse with her had spooked her. They’d remained out of sight, had not responded to any of the hails she sent into the mist. She’d even taken a small sidetrack to try and throw them off.
The footsteps picked up again and the possibility of what might happen if she were caught speared a surge of black fear through her heart. Adrenaline charged through her body and she took off, feet flying over the rough surface of the track. The sole of her shoe landed heavily on a small rock. Her ankle collapsed and she lurched sideways, straining every muscle to remain upright. Twisting, burning sensation ripped through her right calf. She choked a cry as she tumbled to the hard ground, her running shorts and sleeveless top providing little protection. Every bone in her body jarred to the cruel impact.
A whimper of frustration and dread escaped her lips as the strangling pain of cramp throbbed through her leg. She made to stand. Agony tore through her lower limb and she collapsed back to the hard dirt. Desperation and pain stole her strength and for a moment she huddled on the ground in a limp mass. She dragged determination from the depths of her soul and pulled herself together, raised a shaking fist and pummelled it into the tight knot of her muscle. Again. Again. Her weak punches had no effect.
Footsteps approached. Terror twisted her nerves. Her skin felt like it wanted to crawl off somewhere and hide. She’d love it to do just that, so long as it took her with it.
Maybe I’m just being fanciful.
Her fears seemed to think otherwise, coiling nausea through her stomach. She pushed herself to her hands and knees. Sharp-edged pebbles and forest debris dug into her flesh as she crawled off the track. She thrust her back to the wide girth of a big gum tree and forced her breath into slow, deep inhalations. Heart faint and fingers trembling, she pulled her cell phone from a pocket again. And again hope died at the lack of coverage bars.
That shouldn’t happen. Not here.
She closed her eyes tight and bunched her fists against escalating terror.
Get a grip, Sarah. Get a grip.
The cool air brushed a clammy hand against her hot skin. A soft footfall and the rustle of clothing drifted through the mist. She snapped her eyes open. Gravel crunched. Her heart exploded into a wild gallop. Frantic, she scanned the ground for a weapon. Anything. A rock . . . sand . . . broken glass left by a careless hiker . . . anything. The smooth, pearl grey bark of a discarded ghost gum branch poked through yellowing clumps of grass. She lunged for it, wrapped her fingers around its width and lifted. The weight of the solid, four-foot piece of wood eased a little confidence into her mind.
Yeah, and now I’m being self-delusional.
Despite her doubts, her resolve strengthened. Looming shadows snatched her attention to the edge of the mist. Dark shapes moved towards her. Her heart leapt to her throat. She struggled to her feet, put her back to the tree and hefted the branch across her shoulder.
Two big, jeans and T-shirt clad men stepped clearly into her vision.

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Posted by on October 30, 2014 in Thursday Thread


Spotlight On…Neva Brown’s A Pretty Penny

Today I’m interviewing fellow Soul Mate Publishing author Neva Brown on her novel, A Pretty Penny.

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Q: How long have you been writing?

A: I’ve been writing all my adult life (a LONG time), but most of it was done in the workplace. I wrote grants, curriculum, proposals, all the things that go along with being a teacher and administrator in public school. After I retired and joined a writers’ club, I became interested in writing romance with a happy-ever-after. It has been a fun challenge.

Q: Tell us about your road to publication.

A: I had never considered trying to get published until I joined a critique group made up of writers who were serious about being published. With their help and encouragement, I set out on the adventure. I had a few rejections, but one day that special email came. I signed a contract. Learning to work with an editor was a new challenge. Thankfully, I had a very helpful editor, and, lo and behold, I became a published author.

Q: What advice would you give an aspiring author?

A: I would advice an aspiring author to write every day, to join a good support, read current articles on “how-to” in his or her chosen genre, go to workshop if possible, join a critique group, take and give critiques in a professional manner (always be kind and honest).

Q: Tell us about your latest release.

A: A PRETTY PENNY sizzles with tension of the “I’ll –show-you” kind from the beginning. Penny Jones lost her will to live when her husband was killed, but Clayton Brandt, with his abrasive, insensitive ways, makes her so angry she puts all her talents, skills, and considerable intellect to work to show him just how wrong he is. These two very different personalities have a tough time finding their way to their happy-ever-after. Government agents, vindictive women, moral issues, and ever so many things beset them. Love meets and defeats some really scary enemies as it shepherds Penny and Clayton along their way to happiness.


Wealthy, arrogant Clayton Brandt knows well what a woman costs. Not until Penelope (Penny) Jones comes into his life does he know the value of a woman.
Angry at Clayton, her new boss, Penny snaps out of the lethargy and puts to use all her innate abilities, learned skills, and intuitiveness to cope with the overbearing Clayton and the women in his life. Penny falls in love with him, but will not become one of his women—on his terms.
On her terms, they marry only to be parted by federal agents. The ensuing intrigue, danger, and antic of Clayton’s ex-wife play a part in Penny being in eminent danger. Even after their love survives all this, a letter from a vindictive woman who is dead devastates Clayton and nearly destroys his hope for happiness.
A PRETTY PENNY is a breath-holding adventure at times and a breathtaking love story at other times.


Clayton stormed through the door in a rage. He was dirty, face blistered, and anger oozed from every pore in his body.
“Ms. Jones, get into my office. You have some explaining to do. I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that you were trouble. How you pulled the wool over Wilma’s eyes, I’ll never know, but it doesn’t really matter, since your stint at Brandt Enterprises is probably going to be the shortest on record.”
She followed him through the door. When he turned to glare at her, she was standing stone-still framed by the light of the outer office. Her blonde hair looked like a halo around her pixie face that was white but calm as she waited. Her pale blue T shirt and gauzy broomstick skirt reflected enough of the light to make her look not quite real. He wanted to take her in his arms and absorb that heavenly quiet calm that seemed to protect her. Heaven help him! He needed peace and peace could not be found.
Angry at himself now for letting his thoughts be diverted, he all but shouted “I’ve spent the last few days shouting over the roar of welding machines trying to pacify three temperamental old geezers that call themselves artists. I’d expected to find peace and quiet when I got home, but no such luck. Just what did you do or say to Velma? She’s been in bed with a migraine since her encounter with you. She says you were completely disrespectful to her and that she will not tolerate you in her house. Now speak up, and it better be good.”
“I was not aware that I was living in her house,” Penny said.
He had caught his breath….

Buy It Now!

PIC. Neva 50+ promo (2)

Neva Brown, a retired secondary teacher/administrator, now enjoys the challenge of writing romance novels and doing editing for other romance writers.

Neva spent most of her life on West Texas ranches and uses that culture and environment in many of her stories. She and her husband now live at Rio Concho West in San Angelo, Texas. They enjoy visits from their two sons and their families, are always delighted to hear from old friends, and are amazed at how well they have adjusted to ‘city’ living.
Her social media efforts still need work, but she can be found at:

Neva loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at


Posted by on October 25, 2014 in Spotlight On


Thursday Thread with Author Elle Hill!

Today’s featured author is Elle Hill, who has written the novel, The Tithe.

Elle Hill theTithe_505x825

The Tithe
By Elle Hill

Genre: Science fiction romance
Heat level: Sensuous


“Every seven years, seven persons from each of the ten towns must go into the desert, where they will enter into the realm of Elovah, their God.”

No one knows exactly what happens to these seventy Tithes, but everyone knows who: the “unworkables,” those with differing physical and mental capacities. Joshua Barstow, raised for twenty years among her town’s holy women, is one of these seventy Tithes. She is joined by the effervescent Lynna, the scholarly Avery, and the amoral Blue, a man who has spent most of his life in total solitude.

Each night, an angel swoops down to take one of their numbers. Each night, that is, except the first, when the angel touches Josh… and leaves her. What is so special about Josh? She doesn’t feel special; she feels like a woman trying to survive while finally learning the meanings of friendship, community, and love.

How funny that she had to be sacrificed to find reasons to live.


The lights in the Great Room went out.
No flickers, no dimming, no sizzling sounds—nothing. Just darkness where light used to be.
A man cried out and several people gasped.
“It’s all right, everyone,” Marcus called. Really, he was beginning to annoy Josh, too. He didn’t know that. No one did. “I’m sure this has—”
A whooshing sound, like air displaced, sliced through the room. For a tiny, tense moment, no one spoke.
“Is it an angel?” a child’s voice asked.
Several voices broke out then, some in shouts, some in startled cries, one or two in terror.
Just like the night before, the fold and crack of feathered wings in motion breathed through the room. Weak light from the multiple hallways leaked through the perimeters. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the sudden darkness, Josh found she could identify vague outlines.
Someone a few seats down leapt to her feet and hurled herself toward Josh, perhaps seeking the sterile safety of the kitchen. She stumbled over Josh’s outstretched legs and hurtled to the ground. Josh gasped in pain.
And still, the snap and sigh of wings overhead.
Josh wanted to stand up, to defend herself. She wanted to shrink into the upholstery, to make herself as small as possible. In the end, she sat still, trembling in indecision.
“The angels!” someone cried in something like terror, or perhaps ecstasy.
“Keep them away from me!” Someone—she thought it might be Len—shrieked.
Several people jumped to their feet and pushed their way through the room, seeking some kind of safety. The woman who’d tripped over Josh lay whimpering on the ground.
Whump, whump . . .
A warm arm encircled Josh’s shoulder. She shrieked before realizing it belonged to Blue. The baggy sleeves of his black tunic partially covered her head. She turned to him, and he pressed her closer.
I don’t think I want to court you, she remembered him saying, and almost sprayed laughter. Who knew they’d practically snuggle later that day?
The thump of wings grew closer. An outline of a human-sized object hurtled through the air and the darkness toward her. What had to be its wings spread around it, moving and tilting. Some stray ray of light gleamed whitely off the area where eyes should be. They seemed fixed directly on her.


Book buy link:


Posted by on October 23, 2014 in Thursday Thread


Thursday Thread with Author Char Chaffin!

Today’s featured author is Char Chaffin, who has written the novel, Jesse’s Girl.


Title: Jesse’s Girl, by Char Chaffin
Heat Rating: Sensual
Genre: Nostalgia Romance

Book Cover Blurb:

In 1965, Tim O’Malley returns to his home town of Skitter Lake, Ohio, to clear his name and get the girl: Dorothy Whitaker, the love of his life since eighth grade. Blamed for a destructive fire he didn’t set, only Tim and Dorothy know the truth; that Jesse Prescott, Tim’s best friend and Dorothy’s boyfriend, did the deed that changed an entire town. But Jesse died in that tragedy and seven years later, Skitter Lake still honors him as a hero, rather than Tim, the boy from the seedy side of town whose father was a drunk . . . and whose quick actions saved six people from perishing in that horrendous fire.

In trying to set the record straight and finally claim Dorothy as his own, Tim—and Dorothy, too—will discover that in some small towns the legend often outweighs the truth . . . and their family and friends will forever see Dorothy as “Jesse’s girl.”


Now the need to lock Dorothy in a tight embrace, and never let go, overwhelmed him. He would have picked her up and carried her to his car, then driven her all the way back to Los Angeles just to get her away from a life he instinctively knew made her miserable. Tim remembered her folks. Wilma Whitaker had been a difficult woman when she was healthy and relatively happy. He couldn’t imagine how losing Dorothy’s dad would have twisted Wilma up inside.
He must have squeezed too tightly, because Dorothy let out a breathy gasp and wriggled until he loosened his arms. She stepped backward with a blush and downcast eyes. “I really do have to go, Tim.” She raised her head and all the longing he’d already been experiencing, all the need, was plain to see on her lovely face, for about half a second.
Then, her expression shuttered, she picked up her purse from the battered nightstand next to the bed where she’d laid it, and moved toward the door. Tim followed, unsure what to say even though a hundred different lines crowded his head. Stay with me. Get to know me, again. Love me, the way I never stopped loving you.
They remained locked behind his compressed lips as he escorted her to the door and wished the last seven years had never happened.
In the open doorway she formed a smile that fell short of her eyes. “I’m glad we got to spend a little time together, Tim.” She slipped her arms around his waist for a quicksilver hug, then stepped back before he could reciprocate. “Please give your folks my best when you get back home.”
Tim flicked his eyes up to hers, then over her face, prettier than ever and without a speck of makeup. Her silky, red-blonde hair, combed back in its usual ponytail, was so unlike the current style he’d seen not only in California but here in Skitter Lake. Her dress wouldn’t have been out of place at the sock hops he remembered from twelfth grade. It was almost as if Dorothy Whitaker had frozen herself in time.
And he suddenly knew he wouldn’t be leaving at the end of the week. He’d stick around and see what was what. For Dorothy, and maybe even for Jesse.
Slowly, Tim reached out and clasped her fingers, then her wrist. Before he could talk himself out of it, he yanked her into his arms, up against his body, catching the back of her head, right below her ponytail. As her lips parted to speak, protest, whatever, he covered them with a kiss that spun out of control the instant it began. He wound an arm around her waist to anchor her tightly, but she’d already thrust her hands into his hair as she kissed him back. Tim groaned into her mouth and felt it echo back to him in the whimper she uttered that throbbed in the scant space between them.
For what seemed like an eternity, he kissed her, deep, then slow, then fast, greedy, pouring years of want and desire into a single, perfect moment. If he’d ever kissed another woman like this, he couldn’t remember. He deepened the kiss even more, and felt her fingers fist reflexively in his hair. He didn’t care if she ripped it out by the handfuls, as long as she never let go.
And as if she’d somehow heard his thoughts, she stiffened, opened her fists, slapped her hands on his chest, and pushed until he released her lips. Rosy red and swollen, they quivered as she stared up at him with shock in her eyes. She pushed again, a silent demand for him to let her go. It about killed him, but he loosened his arms and stepped back.
Silently, Tim bent to pick up the purse she’d dropped, and gave it to her. As her fingers closed over the pale yellow leather, she whispered, “Why?”
He managed—barely—to keep his hands to himself as he replied, “Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. And when I do leave, Dorothy, you’ll be coming with me.”

Buy Link, Amazon:
Char’s Links:

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Posted by on October 16, 2014 in Thursday Thread


Spotlight On…Katie O’Boyle’s Coming Home to Love

Today I’m interviewing fellow Soul Mate Publishing author Katie O’Boyle on her novel, Coming Home to Love.

Coming Home to Love MEDIUM

Q: How long have you been writing?
As soon as I learned to read, I wanted to write! I published professionally, as an educator, but writing novels (romance and mystery) was just for fun. In January 2012, I committed to finding at least one hour every day for writing, and I began writing novels seriously.

Q: Tell us about your road to publication.
In May 2012 I attended a writers conference in Maine with a fellow writer. I pitched to an agent, who encouraged me but did not buy the book. I revised the manuscript and, in November 2012, pitched it to Debby Gilbert, Soul Mate Publishing, who requested the full manuscript. The book was released in August 2013 as Stepping Up To Love, Book 1 of the Lakeside Porches romance novels. Book 2, Coming Home to Love, was released in September 2014. Book 3, Finding the Way Back to Love, will be released Winter 2015; this book also took fourth place in The Sheila Contest, sponsored by the Valley Forge Romance Writers chapter of RWA. On my road to publication, each draft of every one of the novels incorporated feedback from critique groups, beta readers, contest judges, and workshop facilitators.

But wait, there’s more! The Lakeside Porches romance novels will spin off a cozy campus mystery series and a series of women’s fiction, with both series set in the same Finger Lakes locale, involving many of the characters from Lakeside Porches. Becoming a published author continues to be an exciting learning process!

Q: What advice would you give an aspiring author?
Join a writers’ group! Find critique partners, ask other authors about workshops and conferences, submit to contests, learn your business, and learn your craft. Being part of a writers’ group has helped me do all these things and has provided encouragement and guidance every step of the way.

Q: Tell us about your latest release.
Coming Home to Love is Gianessa and Justin’s love story. Although this second book can be read as a standalone novel, a tightly interwoven subplot continues Joel and Manda’s story, for fans of Book 1. Like all the Lakeside Porches romances, Coming Home to Love is a college-town love story with a recovery twist.


With his health deteriorating and his spirit dying, Justin Cushman has come home to Tompkins Falls in the Finger Lakes to assist his injured nephew Joel. Sick of accumulating wealth for its own sake, Justin knows that his life is meaningless without a loving relationship and a purpose for his billions. On a whim, he visits Joel’s spa, looking for a massage to relieve his pain. Gianessa Dupioni is a gifted masseuse who knows what ails Justin, and she starts him on a journey of health and happiness. Too bad for Justin that Gianessa is devastated by personal losses and strictly focused on rebuilding her career. Justin may be a master strategist in the financial world, but can he persuade Gianessa to let love in?


“You know,” Gianessa said, as she stroked his palm with her thumb, “I was prepared not to like you. Look how that turned out.”
He blustered. “Not like me?” He winked.
“The first time I saw you, you were badgering Grace.” She leaned forward, leading with her breasts. “That ticked me off.”
“And you wore your hair in that French braid, which ticked me off.”
She gathered her long, toffee tresses behind her shoulders. “You never said you didn’t like my braid.”
“I wanted from that first moment to get my hands in your hair. I plotted six ways to Sunday to get rid of the braid.”
“My braid is perfect for work. It feels elegant and simple, and it makes me feel put together and focused.”
He caressed her cheek and jaw and neck with eager fingers. “But you’re elegant and complex, and I prefer you undone.”

Katie O'Boyle

Author Bio:

Born in the upstate-New York village known as the Birthplace of Women’s Rights, Katie O’Boyle loves the Finger Lakes in every season. She enjoys lunch with friends at charming inns, and she cherishes the lakeside porch as a place for intimate sharing, laughter, and inspiration. To the outside world, she is a tech-savvy college professor. In her soul, she is a passionate author of warm-hearted romance. She is hard at work on book four of the Lakeside Porches romances.

Author Contacts:

Meet Katie O’Boyle:
on the web as
on Facebook as “Katie O’Boyle Author” (
on Twitter as “TompkinsFalls” (

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Posted by on October 15, 2014 in Spotlight On


Thursday Thread with Author Cathy MacRae!

Today’s featured author is Cathy MacRae, who has written the novel, The Highlander’s Reluctant Bride.

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Genre: Scottish historical romance
Heat level: Sensual

Book cover blurb:

Determined to keep the Macrory clan’s holdings out of the clutches of marauding pirates, King Robert II sends his man, Lord Ranald Scott, to hold Scaurness Castle. There, Laird Macrory lays dying, awaiting word from his son who is missing on the battlefields of France. If the son is not found before the old laird dies, Ranald will take over as laird—and marry Laird Macrory’s headstrong daughter.
Lady Caitriona sees no reason she cannot rule the clan in her brother’s stead, and is bitterly disappointed with the king’s decision to send a man to oversee the castle and people. Not only is Ranald Scott only distantly related to the Macrory clan, but he was her childhood nemesis. She has little trust or like for him.
Her disappointment turns to panic when the king’s plan is completely revealed and she realizes she must wed Ranald. Pirates, treachery, and a 4-year-old girl stand between her and Ranald’s chance at happiness. What will it take for them to learn to trust each other and find the love they both deserve?


So, the king forced Eaden to wed,” she murmured. Her gaze caught Ranald’s. “What will he do to me?”
Ranald noted Riona’s sudden pallor, her gray eyes widening until they were naught but huge silver orbs glowing against her skin. Now was as good a time as any to tell her what King Robert intended for her, but he could not force the words.
“Ye are a laird’s daughter,” he reminded her. “And an heiress. Yer mother’s dower lands north of here are of great value to the king.”
“And I am of little worth, aye?” Riona flared.
“Nae. Ye are of great worth.”
“But a pawn to the king.”
Ranald sighed. This was not going as he planned. “We are all pawns in one way or another, Ree. The king willnae let ye stay on yer own. Ye are a ward of the crown, now.”
“So, he’ll marry me off to some rebellious laird he wants to drag over to his side, using me and my lands to hold him?”
“Nae. No’ so bad as all that.”
“Mayhap to a wealthy laird who’s all but doddering in his cups, hoping I’ll no’ breed an heir before he dies, giving title of the land to the king and my next husband?”
Ranald lifted an eyebrow. The lass was getting worked up over nothing. “Marriage, yes. Doddering auld man, no.”
Riona snapped her head to one side, a glower on her face. “Then, who?”
Ranald swallowed and offered a crooked smile.
                                          * * *

Amazon Buy Link:
Facebook: Cathy MacRae or Cathy MacRae Author

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Posted by on October 9, 2014 in Thursday Thread


Spotlight On…JR Richardson’s Cursed Be The Wicked!

Today I’m interviewing fellow Soul Mate Publishing author JR Richardson about her novel, Cursed Be The Wicked.

Cursed be the Wicked final

Q: How long have you been writing?
I’ve been writing all kinds of craziness since I was in middle school, but finishing stories all the way to THE END, for about six years now.

Q: Tell us about your road to publication.
I wrote Cursed be the Wicked in a year. I started, then stalled about 1/2 way through the story, then started again and finished it up in two months. I queried like crazy, never expecting in a million years to get picked up. Not because I didn’t believe in the story, but because I knew how many authors were out there trying to get their story published too. So it was double the triumph when I was offered a contract with Soul Mate Publishing about a month and a half into my journey. Ten months later, a lot of editing and learning new things along the way later, the eBook was out! I’ve been on cloud nine ever since.

Q: What advice would you give an aspiring author?
Don’t ever think you have nothing else to learn. Always be open to new ideas and keep your circle of trust close at all times. They are there for you.

Q: Tell us about your latest release.
Cursed be the Wicked is a Paranormal Romance with mystery entwined throughout and a little bit of humor sprinkled on top. It’s about the struggles of a young man trying to find out what happened to his father a lot of years ago, and how involved his mother was in those happenings. In the process, he finds someone he learns he can trust with both his secrets and his heart.


Cooper Shaw lives his life under a pen name and enjoys the anonymity it provides during his journeys across the globe as a seasoned writer for a travel magazine. When his job lands him in his hometown of Salem, Massachusetts to cover the famous Festival of the Dead, he soon realizes that he can’t stay invisible forever as he faces ghosts from a past he’s been trying to forget ever since he left.

The city holds nothing but bad memories for Coop until he meets a quirky young woman with an old soul and curious insights by the name of Finnley Pierce. While she acts as his tour guide through a town he thought he knew, Finn helps him unearth the truth of his childhood and might even begin to open up his heart.

By unraveling the mystery of his father’s murder, Coop may finally accept who he is, where he came from, and perhaps even realize what he wants for his future.


“It’s you.”
The woman from the front desk of the B&B. The fake Betsy. She’s right there, plain as day and still disheveled.
A smile crosses my lips involuntarily.
“Yeah,” she announces, with her very own brand of contempt, apparently not recognizing me at all.
I’m not sure whether I’m glad about that or not.
“It’s me,” she continues, “And if you don’t mind, I’m trying to listen to the lecture.”
“No,” I say, still grinning over at her like a complete idiot and still finding the need for her to recognize me. “It’s me.” I shift and put my things down to turn for her to see me full on. “From last night? At the Bed and Breakfast?”
Her facial expression doesn’t change one iota. “Yeah, I know who you are.”
“I was looking for you this morning.”
Her eyebrow lifts, her arms cross, and I’m feeling the urge to grin even wider.
Until she answers me.
“Why, so you could scream at me some more?”
“No,” I tell her. “Actually, I was hoping to apologize for last night, but . . .” I hesitate. I’m not exactly saying it like I’d planned to but in my defense, she kinda has this way of getting me all tongue tied.
“Hoping to?” she asks. “You were hoping to apologize?” She feigns flattery. “I am just so, thankful that you were hoping to apologize. Oh my, really, I just . . .”
She shakes her head as she trails off, and, ouch.
I hold my hand up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. I apologize,” I tell her, quietly and leave it at that. I turn my focus back to the task at hand, but find myself mumbling an explanation.
“I don’t even know what got into me, I’m just,” I breathe out and let it out, “having a bad week.”
“Bad week,” she mocks me under her breath. Then she slouches back into her chair. I’m thinking this conversation is over until I hear her ranting in angry undertones, “Did you know the number of public apologies that famous people make have tripled since nineteen-eighty? I don’t even wanna think about the number of private ones that aren’t being counted.”
I peek over at her, reluctant to say anything but curious as to where she’s going with this.
She catches me staring, and then whisper yells at me.
“Do you know how many of those apologies are probably genuine, Mr. Stone?”
It’s a good question. I hadn’t really thought about it. Before I can answer, she does it for me.
“Probably about one percent. And that’s being generous, in my opinion.”
“Look, lady, I just—”
People from the audience let out dramatic shushes and give us dirty looks before returning their attentions back to the speaker. A few minutes later, my row companion finishes her thought.
“Apologies are a dime a dozen. I don’t need an apology. What I need is sincerity.”
She settles down after that and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to apologize again or just shut up.
I go with shutting up.


A movie fanatic, a writer of stories, a lover of life.

Jo grew up in Maryland with four siblings, three parents and an endless number of cousins within the vicinity – but it was too cold up North for this thin blooded girl. So today, she lives in Florida with her two girls and a husband that shares her same sense of humor and basic take on life as we know it.

Life is too short to put dreams on the back burner.

She’s always loved writing and always will. Jo tells contemporary stories with romance, humor, the supernatural, the paranormal, suspense, mystery, action and anything else she can think up.
In 2012, she wrote Cursed be the Wicked, a character driven, paranormal mystery romance that was picked up by Soul Mate Publishing and released in March of 2014. It hit #40 in its category on on day one. Since publishing Cursed, Jo has also written a couple of short stories and is currently editing a romantic comedy that she hopes to get out to the public soon.

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Posted by on October 5, 2014 in Spotlight On


Thursday Threads with author Maggie Mundy!

Today’s featured author is Maggie Mundy, who has written the novel, Unknown Protector.

MaggieMundyUNKNOWN PROTECTOR_505x825


Two things have helped Nicole cope since the murder of her husband. One is running her detective agency, and the other is her guardian angel Mira. When Mira is killed by a demon, Nicole accepts the help of a Ridge, a long haired, cigar smoking diamond in the rough with wings. Things go from bad to worse when a replacement guardian cannot be found. She has to trust Ridge, which is tricky when she realizes there are no demons or angels, just parasitic aliens that humans have built the myths of these celestial beings around. Ridge isn’t an angel or a devil, but an alien half breed known as a Midworlder. He is also way too sexy for his own good, or is it her own good.


“Please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me,” Nicole repeated as she closed her eyes. She didn’t like flying in planes, let alone being dragged through the night sky by an oversexed scruffy angel who was too hot for his own good. Or was it her own good.
“I won’t let you fall. Look around before we go over. I reckon you’ve guessed the events of tonight aren’t the way we normally do things. Humans aren’t meant to be aware of our flying through the night sky which means I can’t let you remember any of this.”
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. His face was close to hers as he gripped her tight around her waist. It was too dark to read what he might be thinking from his expression. His lips were so close and her own were parting at the thought he might kiss her. She trembled, but not from fear anymore and hoped he couldn’t read her mind. They were being hunted and she wanted a kiss, no she longed for it. He had to be putting the thoughts in her head.
She needed to get her mind off him so she gazed down at San Francisco. Her adopted city stretched out below with steep streets reaching down to the harbor, while the lights on the Golden Gate Bridge shone in the distance, reflecting on the water below. She smiled as a tear flowed down her cheek. She had never seen it this way before. For a moment she forgot others were after them or after her in particular. She peeked over Ridge’s shoulder and glanced back over his wings as they glided through the sky. Three dark, winged shapes were following and could be seen against the light of the full moon. Maybe the full moon could explain why strange things were happening, because this was like staring at a scene from a horror movie, except it was real.
The shapes of their pursuer’s bodies blurred. She turned back to the city but the lights of San Francisco were disappearing. In the moonlight she focused on the face next to her. Ridge smiled and touched her cheek with his.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna get you a new guardian and all of this will go away. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She didn’t want a new guardian, she wanted Mira back. It went dark and reminded her of when she went adventure-caving in Australia. The absolute darkness of underground where not even a trickle of light breaks through, no matter how hard you look. She couldn’t see Ridge anymore, but the closeness of him and the darkness amplified the sound of his wings. For a moment they were all that existed in the universe. His lips touched hers and her mouth opened to him only to have him pull away. Did he mean to do that?
“I suggest you close your eyes and give your mind over to me,” he whispered.
Nicole shook her head and tried to get herself back to reality, whatever that was. “I’m not going anywhere with my eyes shut after tonight, and from what I’m picking up at times your mind seems a bit murky to let you in again.”
“Suit yourself darling, but don’t blame me if you pass out.”
Pain sliced through her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively hugged Ridge tighter. His thoughts were in her head again telling her to relax, but this time it wasn’t working. She tried to hold down the rising alarm of what would happen next. Somehow she had an inkling it wasn’t going to be good.

LINKS: Amazon Link

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Posted by on October 2, 2014 in Thursday Thread