Saturday, April 30, 2016

Saturday's Blurbs - Books by Mari Manning #Suspenseromance #MFRWauthor

Stranger at My Door
A new romantic suspense by Mari Manning

The only thing standing between Dinah Pittman and a killer is a man she can’t trust …

As far as Dinah Pittman is concerned, men can’t be trusted. Especially cops. Her own father was a cop and a convicted felon who stole a small fortune before dying in prison. The best part? No one knows where the money is…and someone is willing to kill off everyone who knows anything about it.

And Dinah is next.

Rafe Morales left the Dallas police force to settle down to a simpler life in the small Texas town of El Royo. Instead, he finds himself protecting an infuriating, tough-as-nails, oh-so-sexy victim—and driving himself crazy with a thoroughly unprofessional desire.
But as the body count rises, Rafe and Dinah must find a way to trust each other…before they both end up dead.

Buy links to all the major electronic sites are here:

Angel Without Wings

When Linnea Reyes sets out to help wounded veteran Adam McCormick save his family’s organic farm, she runs straight into a six-foot-three roadblock – the soldier’s older brother, Jesse. Jesse McCormick, who survived Afghanistan without a scratch, is waging a battle at home on three fronts — the local bank that is threatening foreclosure, his manipulative former girlfriend who is determined to get the farm for a pittance and the stubborn do-gooder — Linnea — who wants to save the one thing he is trying to escape — the family farm. Hidden motives and secrets abound, and no one is who they seem, including Linnea and Jesse. Each must discover the truth about themselves and the people in their lives if they are going to beat the forces lined up against them.

Buy links are here:

Holding Out for a Hero

Feisty, hot-tempered Seneca Simms has a big problem on her hands. Two birth certificates and two weeks to figure out which is genuine before her wedding to self-absorbed fiancé, Michael. She has no time in her tight schedule to deal with the amorous detective she just hired. Rudderless and haunted, Collin Atlee hides behind a handsome face and a cocky attitude. Then he meets a girl who is immune to his charms. Solving the mystery behind her birth is the easy part. The hard part? Stealing her heart without exposing his painful past.

 Buy links are here:

Mari Manning

Available now: Book 1 in the romantic suspense series, "A Murder in Texas":
"Stranger at My Door." Watch for "Stranger in My House" and Stranger in My Bed later in 2016.
From Entangled Publishing

Available now: from Crimson Press: Noir Nights: 5 hunky detectives, 5 fabulous love stories, 5 unforgettable heroines in one amazing bundle.  

Friday, April 29, 2016

Friday - Who She Was Before - Mari Manning #MFRWauthor

1. What were you in your life before you became a writer? Did this influence your writing?

I've been lots of things that were writing-related. I've been a staff writer and editor for a news magazine, I've written dozens of newsletters for various industries, I've been manager for a national accounting firm. Currently I'm director of marketing for a local accounting firm.

2 Are you genre specific or general? Why? I don't mean genres like romance, mystery, fantasy etc. There are many subgenres of the above.

I am not genre-specific, but my tendency when I write romance is to go with suspense or mystery. Romance needs tension beyond the will-they-or-won't-they question, and character arcs are hard for me. So I go with some kind of mystery, although in the book I'm planning now, I'm trying to avoid mystery and use character arc to move the story forward. 

3. Did your reading choices have anything to do with your choice of a genre or genres?

No. I don't read romance when I am writing it, because I don't want to be influenced by others work. That said, I have a subscription to Audible so I will listen to it at times when I am driving and working out just to see what people are up to. I am not an auditory learner so I don't retain much of the stories once I finish them. I am actually a very eclectic reader. If you want to follow what I read, find me on Goodreads. I list all the books I've read or listened to, plus I do at least a short review of each.

4. What's your latest release?
My latest release is the first in my Murder in Texas series, Stranger at My Door, which came out in January. The second book, Stranger in My House, will be released on June 13. I am still waiting to see if Entangled will take the third, Stranger in My Bed. Hopefully they will.

5. What are you working on now?

I have just finished two mainstream mysteries, and I am working on the first in a series of romances for Entangled's Bliss line, which is sweet, small town romance.

6. Where can we find you?

I am at Check out my Facebook page or follow me on twitter @mari_manning

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Thursday's Opening Scene - Horu's Chosen #MFRWauthor #Alternateworld #fantasyromance

Horu's Chosen

Chapter 1

Seth slumped in the subway seat and shielded his face with a newspaper. Of all the luck. He was on his way to a meet with his handler and he didn’t want to be recognized. With care he moved the tabloid to study Tira. Panic showed in her expression. Perspiration dotted her forehead. Her tee shirt bore dirty smudges. She snatched a piece of paper from the seat beside her and seemed to study the words. As the car slid into the third stop she jumped to her feet and followed the crowd.
Another bit of bad luck. His stop, too. Just before the doors started to close he jumped out and headed up the stairs. When he reached the surface he searched and saw her running across the street. She entered the coffee shop. Strike three. That was the site of his meet.
Damn. Not a good idea to go inside. He would be late but late was better than made. Not that he didn’t trust Tira, but Ramos wanted her and the drug dealer had ways of making people talk. Tira’s sister had been a user and seller. Luci had angered Ramos by not paying what she owed and stealing drugs.
Seth slipped into a dark doorway and waited. Five minutes. Ten. At the fifteen minute mark Tira exited and stopped to use her phone. Moments later she dropped something on the sidewalk and hurried away.
Seth dashed forward and picked up the paper and read.
            Life got you down? Have unsolved problems?
            Looking for an escape? The answer is in your stars.
            A counselor is available night and day.
            Dial 1- 800- 555- ASTR
He read the paragraph again. Truth or scam? Had this piece of paper lured Tira into danger? Should he follow her? He frowned and peered down the street. She had vanished. When he’d warned her not to go home, he’d done more than he should have. But he liked her and knew she’d done nothing wrong. Her sister’s murder had put Tira in danger. The cops would have questioned and released her. Then Ramon would have stepped in. Seth hoped she had a safe place to hide. Holding this thought close he tucked the flyer in his pocket and entered the coffee shop.
As he slipped into the rear booth his handler glared. “You’re late.
“Better late than identified.”
Bob Tolena rubbed his hand over his receding hairline. “What?”
“The girl who just left the shop was Luci Gray’s sister.”
“And you let her get away?”
Seth shrugged. He grabbed the cup of coffee and drained the bitter brew hoping a caffeine jolt would unclog his head. If he didn’t get some rest soon he would make a fatal mistake.
The waitress arrived and refilled his cup. She slammed a plate with a burger and fries in front of Seth. He glanced at the older man. “Yours?”
“Not. Eat. You look like hell.”
As soon as the waitress left, Seth looked up. “That lead to Ramos is dead. What now?”
“If you see that young woman, have her picked up.”
“Why? She’s innocent.”
“Don’t you think someone official should make that call? No matter. We’ll keep an eye on her.” The older man slid a piece of paper across the table. “There’s some new info surfacing. You still have an in at that church-run community center?”
“Sure.” Seth picked up the burger and took a bite. How much longer could he continue undercover? For two years he had slunk through the alleys passing information to his handler. Three drug busts based on what he’d learned had gone down. But the bosses wanted more and more. Ramos would be the biggest.
Seth’s hands shook. Would he ever see the end? He felt older than his twenty-five years. “I want out.”
“Not yet. You’re young. Hang in there for another year or two. About the center, Ramos is sniffing around.”
The burger dropped to the plate. A year was too long. So was a month. He hadn’t gone to the academy or joined the force for this secretive life.
Bob clamped a hand on Seth’s wrist. “You’re good at this. Pete would be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
Seth rose. He felt sick. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

By bus and on foot he made his way to one of his hidey holes. He stretched on the bed and slept.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Wednesday's Writing Tip - Writing ABC - Setting #MFRWauthor #writing

Last week we looked at how Plot and Characters work together. Now comes what was a problem for me when I began to write - Setting. The first comment I received on my first manuscript went like this "Your characters exist in a vacuum." The editor kindly went to point and make suggestions in several scenes where showing the setting could have helped. I took those suggestions and when I re-wrote the book, I made sure to have settings. There were other editorial suggestions and other rejections but I finally published that book.

Back to setting. The settings of a book can do many things. Sometimes they are like a character in some ways. Settings can help show a character's reactions and actions. Settings can show the tone of a story drama, comedy or something between. Settings can show atmosphere either by nature of by contrast. Showing a house that's old and falling down can add to the atmosphere of the story by nature. Think ghosts and eerie events. Or by contrast show hope , history and many, many things.

I write a lot of fantasy stories and have used settings found in books of pictures. In an Egyptian alternate world trilogy, I've taken some of the ancient artifacts and changed them slightly. Even in modern stories the setting has helped the story flow. Showing a taste of a hospital room, a village group of homes. All these will bring the setting into the story and to the characters' lives.

So when revising, check to make sure you're using setting in the best possible way. When I'm doing revisions, I have one draft where I just look at setting and make sure it's clear. Thanks to that editor of many many years ago I've learned not to allow my characters to exist in a vacuum.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Tuesday's Inspiration - Giving #MFRWauthor #aminspired

While reading Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott there is an essay on giving. Her take on it is a bit different from mine. Yes, I agree that while writing you are giving your all to your story and your characters. In a way this is also giving to the readers.

What I think about with giving is giving to outhor writers. By reading what they have written. Also by giving them a helping hand. Giving of your experience and your ways of writing is another way. I've been doing this for years through my critique group, by judging contests that allow feedback and little tips to help new writers gain a path to publication.

What about you? Other than your stories do you give new writers a help by a critique, one that points them in a direction where they may have strayed. Or are you the kind who feels threatened by the new kids coming behind and when asked for critiques gives criticisms. This isn't giving. So when a new writer or one of your writer friends asks for help give it with as much as you give your stories, your characters and your readers,

Monday, April 25, 2016

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #poetry

Meander 1  Poem - Lent


The mountains of temptation,
Rocky, torturous heights.
Stand up and look!
Volcano rocks lie scattered
to the plain.
The way to peace is treacherous.
Denial is the past.
Deny your lusts, your secret dreams,
The hidden, hiding schemes,
Deny, deny, rings the cry.
Make a sacrifice.
Push back your fears,
Descend the rochs.
Scramble bloody, bruised.
For forty days and forty nights
Wrestle with yourself. The fasting silence screams with doubt,
And flagellates your soul.
Fires burn deep within,
Erupting sores and wounds
Till on the plain you stand
Truimphant - purified.

Meander 2 - Dandilions - My neighbors probably hate me. Their lawns are pristing green grass. Dandilions dot the grass with their bright yellow cheer. Maybe I'm a bit touched but I really like dandilions. The bright yellow flowers spread cheer in my heart. There are things I could do with them. I could cut the leaves when they're young and use them for a salad. I could make dandilion wine. I don't. Mostly I just look and even when the blooms turn white and the seeds are scattered on the winds, I still look at them with wonder. I also know no matter what people do to weed them from their lawns they will persist and com again.

Meander 3 - Writing - A bit slow this week. Computer needed 2 looks to see what the trouble was with amking it so slow. Problem solved so next week I will hopefully complete what I need to do.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Sunday's Book - Horu's Chosen - Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #fantasy #alternateworlds

Seth, an undercover cop has been betrayed by his handler. To escape he calls a number on a flyer and is transported to an ancient Egypt he doesn’t understand. He must rescue the Daughter from the evil priests of Aken Re.

Merin is the Daughter. She must find the man who by wedding her will become Pharaoh. She plots to escape the priests of Aken Re and flee to those who years ago saved her life.

Can Seth and Merin find a way to defeat the priests? Is love the answer to their problems? Can they join with the Warrior of Bast and of Horu to bring unity to the Two Lands?

RT Review
Following on the heels of The Warrior of Bast, this story is filled with magic and fascinating characters. Those interested in ancient Egypt will find this an enthralling tale. A satisfying ending is presented for the hero and heroine, with a promising lead-in to the next story.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Saturday's Blurbs featuring Books by Gail Roughton #MFRWauthor #paranormal #susepnse

Paralegal extraordinaire Ariel Anson’s life isn’t going at all the way she planned. Not after private investigator Chad Garrett of War-N-Wit, Inc. roared into her life in response to her urgent call for a skip-trace. Instead of settling down with her steady CPA fiancé, Ariel’s swept into another life entirely. How could she know War-N-Wit stood for Warlock and Witch? Or that Chad Garrett was a warlock in search of his eternal soulmate, the witch he’d reincarnated with through many lifetimes? The witch he insisted was – her! From Vegas to Savannah to Daytona Bike Week and back to Vegas, this series takes the characters on some out-of-this-world adventures! 

What goes around comes around. That’s justice. Especially in small towns where everybody knows how many eggs you ate for breakfast before you've even left the Scales of Justice Café. Funny thing, though. Usually what everybody thinks they know—they really don’t. Take the folks in Turkey Creek. Oh, everybody knows Maggie Kincaid doesn’t speak to her father. They think they know why. But they don’t. They know Billy Brayton died twenty-five years back. Too bad nobody told him. Because now he’s home. And it’s time to right some past wrongs. Time for justice. Country Justice. 

Deep in the woods that slide off into Stone Creek Swamp, teenage drug dealers retrieve their stash and receive an unexpected dividend—the unwitting resurrection of Cain, powerful Bokor of Black Magic. Atop Coleman Hill, two young attorneys renovate a decrepit relic of a house for their home and office. A house with a past it wants to share, showing Ria Knight tantalizing scenes of its original owner, Dr. Paul Devlin. Dr. Devlin’s not exactly alive and well, but he’s not dead either. With Cain’s resurrection, the battle between the two first begun in 1888 rages again. Because the past, like evil, never dies. It just—waits. 

Friday, April 22, 2016

Friday - Who She Was Before - Gail Roughton #MFRWauthor

1.      What were you in your life before you became a writer? Did this influence your writing?

To a certain extent, I think every writer is born a writer. It’s something that’s just there, the urge (and hopefully the ability) to make something that lives only in your imagination come to life for others through your words, and I say this because without that urge (and hopefully ability) writing in the sense of telling a story’s just not possible. That being said, of course there’s that day-to-day thing of making a living. In my case, I worked as a paralegal for forty-one years and yes ma’am, that’s had a huge impact on my writing, both in technique and subject matter. I’m also a country girl raised in the small town Deep South, which has definitely had a major impact on my writing. I’m also a wife, mother, and grandmother, and since everyone’s life is their own novel, that’s also a great source of material.   

2.       Are you genre specific or general? Why? I don't mean genres like romance, mystery, fantasy etc. There are many subgenres of the above.

I’m all over the place. I never set out to write a specific anything. A story occurs to me and I tell it, and it’s whatever genre or subgenre it turns out to be. In general, if I have one thread that does recur in my work, it’s a paranormal slant.  Sometimes a little, sometimes a whole lot; sometimes humorous, sometimes anything but. 

3.      Did your reading choices have anything to do with your choice of a genre or genres?

Undoubtedly. I’ve always been an eclectic reader, and my preferences have changed over the years. I’ve always loved romantic suspense and thrillers, I’ve always preferred novels with a paranormal element. I used to be quite a horror fan, but with age I’ve grown away from that. Life’s sometimes horrible enough, just watch the news. In the last few years, I’ve preferred to read lighter suspense, especially the ones with humor. I read for entertainment, and in fact, I write for the same reason. Entertainment. My own. So my hope is in entertaining myself, I manage to entertain readers, too. 

4.      What's your latest release?

Let me think, it’s been a while, actually. I’ve just retired and my last two years in a law office were rather—well, brutal, and didn’t leave me much mental stamina for writing.  But my actual last release was the fourth War-N-Wit, Inc. novel, MeanStreet, LLC.  That’s a light, paranormal romantic suspense series with lots of humor in it (that is, I hope it’s got lots of humor in it, that’s what I’ve been told anyway.) I tend to throw a lot of genre elements into one book. 

5.      What are you working on now?

Right now I’m working (and have been working) on the second novel in the Southern Justice series (Country Justice being the first novel in that series), titled Black Turkey Walk. Those particular books are small town suspense/thriller novels which are very dear to my heart. As I’ve always said of the first book, I know the places of Country Justice because I live there, and I know the characters of Country Justice because I’m part of them and they’re part of me. I also write occasionally with friend and fellow writer Jude Pittman and she asked me a few months ago to collaborate on a book she’s working on, the fourth of her A Murder State of Mind series titled Deadly Lights featuring private investigator Kelly McWinter. There was one plot line in there just screaming the name of one of the characters from my Southern Justice series, a character readers know as T-bone. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. So T-bone’s making a guest appearance. 

6.      Where can we find you?

I’m at Books We Love, Ltd. and available on Amazon. Readers can also visit on Facebook and at my blogs, Writin' With Southern Stylin'! and Flowers on the Fence.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Thursday's Opening Scene - Bast's Warrior #MFRWauthor #Alternateworld #paranormal #swords

Bast’s Warrior

Chapter 1

Tira wanted three things in life and she had little chance of gaining any of them.  She wanted to be financially independent.  She wanted to go to Egypt and study the ancient ruins.  And she wanted her sister to stop using drugs.
The last desire brought memories of this morning’s quarrel.  Luci had taken the money Tira had squirreled away to see them through the rest of the month.  “Luci, why?”
“You don’t understand,” Luci screamed.
True.  Tira didn’t understand why her sister needed to escape into a drugged stupor instead of studying and working to step onto the road leading from the slums.  Tira’s hands stung with the memory of slapping her sister.  And the words she’d shouted as she slammed out of the apartment echoed in her thoughts.  “I hate you.  I wish you were dead.”  Tira shuddered.  She hadn’t meant those words.  As soon as she reached the apartment she would tell Luci.
With a sigh she turned back to the museum display.  The Egyptian artifacts awed her.  For a short time she allowed the beauty of the objects to carry her into dreams of pyramids and temples, of gods and pharaohs and of digging in the earth to uncover treasures of the past.
The dream hovered beyond her grasp.  Her chances of gaining a position on a dig in Egypt were slim.  Positions were avidly sought by students who had chosen the right colleges and the right professors.  Those choices had been beyond her financially.  She sucked in a breath.  Instead of adventure, when the summer ended, she would take her place in front of a classroom teaching history at an inner city high school.
A glance at her watch said dreamtime was over.  She had to reach the apartment in time to change for her evening shift as a restaurant several blocks from the cramped fifth floor efficiency she shared with her older sister.  Once again flash moments from the morning’s quarrel exploded in Tira’s thoughts.  She’d been so upset she’d missed her morning martial arts session at the local center.
Tira cast her dream self aside and donned the role of practical sister.  She hurried to the exit and stepped from the past into a steamy August day.  Heat shimmered from the sidewalk.  The air hung heavy and filled with the odors of the city and the noises of traffic.  She strode along the crowded area taking advantage of every opening.
Ten days to dream.  Ten days to walk the halls of the museum.  Ten days to study the artifacts that had become her lodestones.  She breathed the aromas of real time, spices of cooking foods, metallic scents of passing traffic and the odors of people, some pleasant and some not.
Several blocks from the apartment building the crowds thinned.  In an alley she glimpsed furtive movements in the dark shadows.  She hurried past.  On the corner across the street a group of gang members gathered.  She sucked in a breath and held her head high.  For all her twenty three years she’d avoided the gangs.  As she strode past she heard the usual crude remarks about her body and her attitude.
Get a life, she wanted to scream.
When she saw the ambulance and two cop cars in front of the building where she lived she halted so abruptly she stumbled.  A hand caught her arm.  Tira saw the gray-streaked beard of one of the winos who slept in the doorways or the alley.  “Get your hands off me.”
“Don’t go home,”  he whispered.  “Lose yourself in the crowd and keep your head down.”
Tira saw a keen intelligence in the man’s dark eyes.  Who was he?  He wasn’t as old as she had imagined either.  “Why?”
“Your sister’s dead.  Cops’ll be looking for you.  They heard about the fight.”
Tira’s stomach clenched.  She blinked away a rush of tears.  Though hearing about her sister’s death wasn’t unexpected another dream shattered.  There would be no rehab for Luci.  “Junkies O.D. every day,”  she said.
“She was murdered.”
A chill slithered down Tira’s spine.  A rush of acid burned her throat.  What?  Why?  Who?  Keeping her eyes on the ground she inched away from him.
“Murder.  Murder.”  The murmured word spread through the crowd gathered on the sidewalk and stung like attacking wasps.
The EMTs wheeled a gurney from the building.  When Tira saw the body bag strapped to the frame her nails bit into her palms.  Despite the heat of the day she felt chilled.  A wave of guilt made her knees buckle.  She stuffed her fist against her mouth to keep from crying aloud.
What now, she wondered.  The apartment was a crime scene.  Until the cops finished their investigation she wouldn’t be allowed inside.  An officer stepped from the building.  “More along, folks.  There’s nothing to see here.”  He stepped from the stoop.  “Anyone seen her sister?  We have some questions for her.”
“Most evenings you’ll find her waiting tables at Louie’s,”  someone said.
Tira hunched her shoulders.  As people dispersed she slunk away.  All her life she’d avoided trouble.  Even if she wasn’t a suspect she knew too much about Luci’s friends and suppliers to be safe.  She needed to hide and think.  Where could she go?’
As she retraced her steps she noticed the home boys had vanished from the corner.  Show’s over or just about to begin, she thought.  She feared she was destined to become the star in a life or death drama.  She continued the slow amble away from the apartment building.
Every instinct urged her to run but that would attract the attention she didn’t want.  As she passed the alley someone grabbed her arm and dragged her into the shadows.  The man who held her arm and the other at his side were large and scary but not as menacing as the slender man who joined them.
Tira fought to control rising panic.  She felt as though she would faint.  Center.  She had to escape.  All she needed was an opening.  Her muscles tensed in preparation.  “What do you want?”  Had her voice remained calm or had fear coated the edges?
“My drugs.  My money.”
“I know nothing about either.”
The slender man laughed and the sound chilled her.  “She was your sister.  She told you everything.”  His smile turned feral.  “Her last words were, ‘Tira knows.’”
Anger flared and slashed the fear and grief holding her immobile.  “And you believed her?”
“Why not?”
His silent companions edged closer.  One held a knife.  The other reached for her.  Tira sucked in a breath.  She whirled and kicked.  The toe of her sneaker caught the knife holder’s arm.  Her sudden movement pulled the second man off balance.  She grabbed his arm and knocked him into the knife man.  They landed in a tangle.
Tira ran.  As she darted around the corner something whizzed past her.  She didn’t stop to learn what.  Where to go?  Just ahead she saw the steps leading to the subway.  She pulled her Metro card from her pocket and bounded down the steps.  A shout sounded.  She kept running.  At the gate she swiped the card, ran onto the platform and into a waiting car.  A bell dinged.  The doors closed.
As she peered through the smudged glass she saw one of the thugs reach the platform.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  For the moment she had escaped.  Where did the rattling car take her?
Was there a way to get the things she needed from the apartment?  The drug dealer’s men would keep watch.  Who could she ask?  Not the cops who either believed she had killed Luci or wanted information she didn’t have.  She barely knew the neighbors.  She and Luci had moved into the building in June.  Could she sneak into the building after the cops left?  Doubtful.  Her few friends from college wouldn’t be willing to enter the scene of a murder.
Tira sank on a seat.  Once again tears threatened.  Why had Luci lied?  Tira swallowed convulsively.  When she understood the reasons for the betrayal she could grieve.  Now wasn’t the time.
For seconds or minutes Tira blocked the groping fingers of fear.  At the moment she was safe but she couldn’t ride the subway forever.  She considered her options.  She had some change, her Metro card and the twenty she always kept for emergencies.  Not enough to rent a room.  Going to work at Louie’s was out.  Until her first pay check from the teaching job arrived she was broke.
Think.  Plan.  Where was the nearest homeless shelter?  Sure they could be dangerous but she could protect herself.  Tira wiped her hands on her jeans.  Even if she could hang out for ten days she couldn’t begin her first day as a teacher wearing dirty jeans and a sweat-stained tee shirt.
On the seat beside her she noticed a crumpled piece of paper.  Curiosity stabbed.  She smoothed the wrinkles and read the words twice.
Life got you down?  Have you unsolved problems?
Looking for escape?  The answer is in your stars.
A counselor is available night and day.
Dial 1- 800 – 555 – ASTRO
Tira frowned.  She could answer yes to all the questions.  Had the paper been left for her to find?  She smiled at her magical thinking.
When the car stopped at the next station she grasped the paper and rose.  She followed people to the street.  Should she take a chance?  Did she have a choice?  Across the street she saw a coffee shop.  She had to consider her options.
She jogged to the small restaurant and entered the dingy place with the paper clutched in her hand.  A flutter of nervousness settled in her chest.  What to do?  Call or not call?  Go to the cops?  Find a shelter?  She sat at the counter and ordered coffee.  As she sipped the bitter brew her thoughts raced.  The answer to the last two options was a definite no.  She frowned.  If the answer was in her stars they certainly hadn’t brought her a sliver of luck.  Would making the call produce a change?
Tira swallowed the last of the coffee.  She would make the call.  If the paper was a hoax she would devise another plan.  She stepped outside and opened her cell phone.  In the fading light she read the number and dialed.
“Can I help you?”  a woman asked.
“I can answer yes to all your questions.”
“Do you need help?”
“Yes.”  She wasn’t sure what this woman could do.  By accepting the offer she would be off the street and buy time to plan.
The woman gave an address.  Tira repeated the street and house number.
“We’ll be waiting for you.  Ring the bell.  Remember, the answers are in your stars.”
At the corner Tira looked at the street sign.  Fourteen blocks.  Not that far.  Unless a bus came along she would walk.  Though the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest hers was worse.
She walked briskly and directed her attention to the surroundings.  Occasionally she glanced over her shoulder to check for followers.  Once she glimpsed a large man and nearly froze.  Her heart skittered but the next time she looked he had vanished.
Her imagination took fire.  The drug dealer might not know where she had left the subway but the route was known.  He could have snitches everywhere.  He believed she knew where his drugs and money were hidden.  Luci, what did you do?
She glanced at the numbers on the buildings she passed.  Would the drug dealer’s men try to discover where she went?  Probably a given.  By the time she neared her destination her heart pounded.  She saw three men behind her and knew she’d been made.
A rush of heavy footsteps sounded.  She dashed up the steps of the brownstone.  With a staccato rhythm she pressed the bell.  Hurry, she thought.  She glanced over her shoulder.  One of the men was the knife wielder from the alley.
“Tira,”  he called.
The door opened.  An elderly woman pulled her inside.  “Welcome.”  She closed the door.  “Why have you come?”
“The answer is in my stars.”
The woman’s eyes held kindness.  “What is your name?”
“Tira.”  The woman’s eyes, her voice and smile eased some of Tira’s fears.  No matter what happened here she would rather face this woman than the men outside.
“Follow me.  We have time to find your proper place.”
As Tira walked down the hall she noticed a series of photographs on the wall.  One caught her attention.  A temple with stature of cats perched on plinths and a crook behind them.  Hieroglyphics were carved above the feline.  She traced the figure.
The woman turned back.  “So that’s the world to hold your interest.”
Tira smiled.  “Reminds me of ancient Egypt, a place that’s always fascinated me.”
“Perhaps your stars will show you the way there.”  The woman beckoned.  “Come along.  We must be ready when the planets align.”
Tira inhaled the aromas of cooking food.  Had she interrupted the woman’s dinner?  Tira’s stomach rumbled.  She’d had nothing besides the coffee since noon when she’d bought a hot dog from a street vendor.  They entered a large room.  The woman indicated a table.  “Sit.  Food is on the way.”
Tira stared at the wall across from the table.  A large circle divided into twelve segments covered most of the wall.  She moved closer and saw this was a horoscope wheel.  She had no idea what the wheel could be used for.
“Sit, child.”  The woman tapped a bell.
A second woman arrived with a tray of food.  Plates and glasses were taken from a buffet.  “Help yourself.”
Tira studied the tray.  Rice, meat and vegetables.  Once she filled her plate the second woman poured a fragrant beverage into three glasses.  The women joined her at the table.  Little was said until the meal was finished.
The oldest of the women smiled.  “When were you born?  We need the day, the month, the year and the time as accurately as you know.”
“May tenth, twenty three years ago.  My mother said my cries greeted the dawn.”
“Aries.”  Both women went to the wheel.  They turned an inner segment and placed colored balls in segments of the circle.  “A warrior born.  Quick to anger.  Speedy in action.  Sometimes given to rash decisions.  A seeker of justice.  A lover of adventure.  Now tell us about yourself and why you called for help.”
Some quality in the woman’s voice eased the tension and fear riding Tira’s spirit since she had arrived outside the apartment building and learned of her sister’s murder.  Between sips of the fragrant tea she spoke.  The reality of her sister’s betrayal slammed into her awareness.  Her voice broke.  “Luci, why?”
The second woman touched Tira’s hand.  “She did not mean for you to be hurt.  She was afraid and reached for your strength.”
“How do you know?”
“The seeds of the betrayal were written on your chart.  This aspect has passed but you must release your pain.”
Tira drew a deep breath.  Without warning the tears she had held inside gushed forth.  Sobs racked her body.  She cried until no more tears came.  A cloth was thrust into her hands and she wiped her eyes.  Another glass of a different beverage appeared.
The older of the two women clasped Tira’s hand.  “If you could go to ancient Egypt tonight, even if the Two Lands was not the one you studied, would you go?”
If, Tira thought.  A dream she had desired but impossible.  “Maybe.”
“Even if you had to remain there for all your days?”
This had to be a joke.  Tira could think of nowhere she would rather be.  There was nothing left for her here.  “I guess.”
The second woman stood behind her.  “Drink.”  She touched Tira’s shoulder.  “The price of the journey is a quest you must undertake.  The only knowledge you and take with you is what will fit in the time period you reach except for your fighting skills.  You will be unable to speak of this world or of modern conveniences.”
“Tell me more.”
“Many years ago invaders swept through the Two Lands usurping the rule and spreading unrest and chaos.  The army lay defeated.  The pharaoh became a prisoner.  The priests of the invaders brought their god, Aken Re, and sought to make him supreme.  The people rejected the new god.  For years the land and the people were crushed beneath the sandals of the foreigners.  Twenty years ago the men of the Two Lands rose and drive the aliens away.”
The older of the two women nodded.  “The sacred symbols of the rule were hidden and the location lost.  Though the invaders were driven away some of their priests remained.  They scheme to place a pharaoh of their choosing on the chair.  Should this come to pass the Two Lands will be destroyed.”
Tira felt confused.  Their stories deviated from anything she had read about Egypt.  Remnants of her flight, her fear and her grief coalesced.  “And if I don’t go?”
“You will leave this house and face whatever waits.  Will you go?
Tira thought about the men who waited outside.  If she left the house she would die.
“Will you go?”  The women spoke as one.  “If so, drink.”
Tira lifted the glass and swallowed the beverage.  What choice did she have?  As she drifted into a fog she saw the giant wheel on the wall spin.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Writing ABCs - Plot or Characters #MFRWauthor #amwriting

Which comes first, plot or characters is much discussed by authors. There are some who find characters looking for a story and by using these chracters wants and needs a story evolves. Other writers have a whole plot down and are looking for characters. At least that's what they say. My truth is that plot and characters go hand in hand. Sometimes a character will take a turn that throws the story off balance and sometimes a plot wants to force the characters into actions they don't want to perform.

I've read some books that acually bore me. They show the characters in many scenes, incidents where they perform actions but these stories have no goal. There's no roadmap showing where they are going and what they want to achieve. They become chracter studies but not books.

Then there are stories that are all plot and the characters mean nothing to the road to the end. The characters could by anyone and often change their natures as the writer needs them to become.

So as you sit to write your story remember to keep your characters consistent and to have a roadmap they will follow to reach the end. This will make a satisfying story.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Tuesday's Inspiration - Finding Your Voice #MFRWauthor #writing

While reading Anne Lamott's Bird By Bird, I came upon an essay on Voice, the writer's voice. Just as each of us has a distinct speaking voice, we also have a writing voice. This is through choices of words, nouns verbs, helping words. Working to find your unique voice happens over the years. At first you may semi-imitate another writer or your voice is buried under the demands of learning the mechanicsof writing. Mechanics can be taught. Voice is developed.

I once read three historical novels for acontest and I really shook my head. All the books sounded the same though a different author and a different time period was covered by the books. Wondering why this had happened I looked at several things. First, the publisher was the same and second so was the editor. What did this tell me?

Each house has what is sort of deemed house style. This editor did a marvelous job of removing the unique aturor's voice and making it the house voice. Certain adjectives and adverbs were found in the books. Certain verbs and nouns were used.

So what can a writer do if someone tries to ruin their voice by editing it from the story? Either accept or go through the edits and accept only those that enhance their voice and reject those that are editorial in flavor. Hard to do but having a reader say after reading a few pages, "I know this author. I like this author."

Each writer has a voice, a unique voice.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #poetry #amwriting

Meander 1 - Poem - Good Friday

These may be out of season but they were written in 1975 oh so many years ago. This is a poem cycle.

Good Friday

Burn the palms of yesteryear.
Bring them to the altar,
Ashes of another life,
And another being.
Secrets carried in the heart,
Little sins and big.
Pile them high upon the dish,
Scapegoat them away.
Build the pyre. Build it high.
Light the fire. Touch the flame.
Watch them burn and purify,
Secrets from the soul.
Hidden things you never knew
Lurked to startle you.
Given as a gift
To burn and cleanse the soul.
Wear them black upon your brow.
Show the world you know
What you were just yesterday
And hope to be no more.
Ashes of remembrance.
Ashes of your life.
Burn the palms of yesterday
And come to see yourself.

Meander 2 - Retreat.- Last weekend I met with a dozen members of Hudson Valley Romance Writers at a spa to write and discuss many things. Two of the people didn't stay over night but 10 of us did. We had lots of laughs and lots of talk about writing. We also had a new drink. Tangerine Rum and for some Diet Coke and for others regular. Call it the Steph. Friday out to dinner at an Italian restaurant where the food was good but they charged for refills. Spent Saturday morning with a small business meeting. Had some interesting bits about our contest. Early Bird special and then a price hike. We'll see how it works. Then we sat and wrote. Everyone with their computers and me with my paper and pen. Managed to put down 2000 words. I write fast. Snacks provided by the spa and then lunch. Afternoon, a bit more writing and then some of us read for critique. I managed what I had set out to do and that was good. Evening dinner at the spa but I've written about that before. Then sitting around drinking and telling jokes. Was a lot of laughs. Over all the retreat was a success and hopefully this will become larger as the years move forward.

Meander 3 Writing - Have almost finished typing in the stuff for Book 5 of At First Sight. Book 4 is up for pre-order. Must promote that soon. Am continuing my project. Learning about horses and stables and trying to make the romance prominent and not bogging the story doen with research.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Sunday's Book - Bast's Warrior - Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #paranormalromance #reincarnation

Tira flees a threat to her life and encounters two elderly women who offer her the chance to be sent to an alternate ancient Egypt with no thought of return. She has had a fascination with Egypt and can even read hieroglyphics. Once there she will be given a task. Failure could mean death. Dare she take the chance and can she find the lost symbols of the rule before an enemy finds them?

Kashe, son of the nomarch of Mero is in rebellion. His father desires him to join the priesthood of Aken Re, a foreign god. He feels he belongs to Horu, god of warriors and justice. He decides to leave home, meets Tira and joins her in the search for the symbols of the rule. Will his aid bring good fortune and will their growing love keep them from making a fatal mistake?

Previously published as The Warrior of Bast

"This engaging voyage into an ancient Egypt that includes power-hungry priests and hazardous treasure hunts entertains from page one. Familial intrigue heightens the tension, as does a kidnapping or two. The cast of characters is dynamic and complements the well-conceived plot." ~ 4 Stars, Susan Mobley, Romantic Times Magazine

 Entrancing Story!, March 26, 2015
This review is from: Bast's Warrior (An Alternate Egypt Book 1) (Kindle Edition)
I loved the book. The story was fascinating and well written. My only problem with the book was the editing - or, rather, the lack of it It was as if it had never been proofread, or perhaps only by a computer. There were many punctuation errors and several places where a word was used that caused the sentence to be nearly meaningless. Perhaps this is nitpicking, but it seriously interfered with a very interesting and well thought-out story. This said, I really liked the book and intend to read the others in the series. I just hope someone read through them before printing! 

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Saturday's Blurbs feature Books by Claire Gem #MFRWauthor #Paranormal #Contemporary

PHANTOM TRACES: A history professor in a tweed jacket, a cheeky Goth chick, and a pipe-smoking, book-hurling ghost. Put them all together in an antiquated library and, well…

Professor Jack Wood’s silver-streaked hair definitely ages him, and he can thank Killer Dawn for that. He won’t be falling into the love trap again anytime real soon. But this new librarian has him curious, with her head-to-toe black Goth garb, piercings, and a defiant attitude to match. Definitely not his type of girl, but still…

Abigail Stryker’s got her work cut out for her. The last two librarians didn’t last a month before airborne books chased them off. But Abby’s determined to make her new life a go–and to stay as far away from older men as possible. Once was enough. Might be tough to do when the library’s best patron is none other than dreamy-eyed Jack Wood. And it seems the eccentric ghost may have taken a shine to her as well.

Available in eBook, Paperback, and Audiobook
Book Trailer:

Erato Publishing

A psychic interior designer reluctantly agrees to renovate a sexy investor’s abandoned hotel on a lake rumored to have once been the mob’s body dumping ground.

Interior designer Kate Bardach loves her single girl’s lifestyle—living in Manhattan and spending weekends at her lake house. She’s passionate about her career, reinventing old buildings. But there are some projects she can’t take on because of the spirits trapped there. Kate is psychic—she sees dead people.

Marco Lareci is one of Wall Street’s most successful investment brokers who’s achieved all of his life’s goals—except for finding his soulmate.  His latest project, an abandoned resort on Loch Sheldrake, needs a savvy designer to transform the crumbling complex into a boutique hotel. When Marco meets Kate, he can’t believe his luck. She’s the perfect match for his business and his heart.
Marco’s body excites Kate even more than does his renovation project. But the haunting there, a bonafide poltergeist, affects her on an intensely personal level. Kate’s aunt disappeared from the place fifty years ago.
Will the spirit doom Kate and Marco’s love, or drive them closer together?

Video Clip

Friday, April 15, 2016

Friday - What She Was Before featuring Claire Gem #MFRWauthor

1. What were you in your life before you became a writer? Did this influence your writing?

Ha! Which era? I've been a hairdresser, a bridal gown designer, and owned a small craft business. I've lived in states, been an accomplished equestrienne, and even raised show Persian cats for awhile. I'm a wife of 38 years, a mother of three (including a set of twin boys!), and grandmother of a 3 year old. Right now I work in scientific research - all of these experiences provide ample fodder for the stories I craft, and I do draw on them often.

2 Are you genre specific or general? Why? I don't mean genres like romance, mystery, fantasy etc. There are many subgenres of the above.

I call my genre New Gothic because it doesn't fit neatly into any one particular subgenre. My stories are contemporary romances, but there is always a mystery, and always a haunting. Contemporary romance with a Paranormal twist.

3. Did your reading choices have anything to do with your choice of a genre or genres?

Yes - I absolutely love authors like Susanna Kearsley, Simone St James, and the late, great Barbara Michaels, who write a similar flavor of mystery/ghost stories to my own. When I ran out of great ghost stories to read, especially those with a contemporary romance in the mix, I decided it was time to write my own.

4. What's your latest release?

HEARTS UNLOCHED, due out today, is the second of my New Gothic romances. The tagline: A psychic interior designer reluctantly agrees to renovate a sexy investor's crumbling hotel on Loch Sheldrake, a lake rumored to have once been the mob's body dumping ground.

5. What are you working on now?

My next projects are to write a prequel to PHANTOM TRACES, my first New Gothic. Tagline: Take a sexy history professor, a geeky Goth chick, and a pipe-smoking, book hurling ghost. Put them together in an antiquated library and...well...
The prequel will take the reader back to six months before PHANTOM TRACES' heroine, Abigail Stryker, took over the library after the ghost chased out the first three replacements of the long-time retiree.
My next New Gothic will be SPIRITS OF THE HEART, set on the grounds of an abandoned mental asylum.

6. Where can we find you?

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Thursday's Opening Scene - Seducing the Innkeeper #MFRWauthor

Seducing The Innkeeper

Chapter One

Christa Sommers counted the receipts for the restaurant and the bar of Green Mountain Inn. She rubbed her forehead and stared at the totals. As she matched the copies of the bills with the cash and credit card slips she clenched her teeth. Someone had slipped with a heavy hand into the cash and she knew the identity of the culprit or culprits. A hundred dollars short. Last week the shortage had been nearly four hundred.
She reached for the stack of just paid bills. For the fourth month she had to use money from the room rentals to cover the bar and restaurant expenses. Her stomach roiled. The time had come to inform the thieves and ignore the guilt trip they would attempt to use again. This time she wouldn’t cave. She might even call the police. But they were family and she had very few relatives.
“Mom, when are we leaving?”
Christa smiled at her son. “Give me ten minutes.” She tousled Davy’s blonde hair and felt a pang of regret. He looked so much like the father he didn’t know.
Do not walk that road. She had no time for regrets. She wrote the last check and sealed the envelope. After putting the money and credit card slips in a deposit bag she reached for her jacket.
Before she and Davy reached the office door her half-sisters barged into the room. She looked at her son.  He didn’t need to hear another quarrel with the pair. “Davy, wait for me outside.”
He glared at the two young women. “Okay.”
Christa cleared her throat. “Just what is your problem today?” She waited for one of them to speak.
“You have to look at this brochure.” Peggy waved a paper. “This is absolutely what Stel and I need to survive boredom. The guests who stay here are old.”
“We need to have some fun,” Stella added. “Meet young and very eligible guys.”
“No cruise.” Christa noted the prices. “This is out of the question.” Though the guests who come to view the fall foliage were older they were little problem. “I’m no longer paying for your fun and games.”
“Why not?” Stella fisted her hands on her hips. “You owe us. Remember where you were when Mom and Dad died. We were left alone and ended in that place for six weeks.”
Christa swallowed. She wouldn’t bite this time “I said so. You need to find jobs.”
“We have them here,” Peggy said.
Stella sneered. “Right. Steering old people to tables and running the cash drawer. Getting paid pennies. All we need is a few thou.”
Christa shook her head. “Not possible. We need to discuss the money that’s missing from the restaurant and bar registers. There are discrepancies.”
Peggy stepped closer. “If people didn’t use credit cards we could have all we want.”
Stella nodded. “She’s right. We just need a vacation. A singles’ cruise is perfect. We might find the right men.”
Christa remembered the bills from the vacation the pair had taken in June to celebrate Peggy’s college graduation. And the problems presented by the two men who had followed them to the inn hoping to share the bounty. At twenty-two and twenty-three her half sisters were selfish and self-centered. When would they stop blaming her for an accident that hadn’t been her fault? She had been out of touch when they’d needed her. The single time had happened years ago. The time had come for them to be responsible for their own lives.
Peggy planted her hands on the desk. “Why do we always have to fight for our share of the inn’s profits?”
Christa drew a deep breath. “You have no share.”
“So you say.” Stella glared. “On Monday we’re calling a lawyer.”
“Go ahead. Do that instead of taking the path you need to find jobs.” There she’d said what she’d avoided since Peggy had graduated in June.
“What are you talking about?” Stella’s voice rose to a strident pitch. “We own more of this dump than you. Mom said no matter what happened to Dad we were set for life.”
“She lied.” Christa knew her father had told his second wife lies about the ownership of the inn. Until his death he’d been her guardian with no more than a life tenancy. After his death she’d learned her mother had left the inn to her. “You also need to know the inn is for sale.”
“You can’t do that,” Peggy said.
“We won’t sign,” Stella added.
“Your signatures aren’t needed. Now hear this.” Before she could tell them her next part of the offer the pair stomped away.
Christa slumped in a chair. Their anger and the thefts weren’t her fault except she had allowed the pilfering to continue all summer. She had meant to tell them the moment Peggy had graduated from college. As usual she had tabled the confrontation. No longer. They had to learn their free-loading days had ended.
“Mom, when are we going?”
“Now.” She grabbed the stack of envelopes and the deposit bag and followed her son to the Jeep. A grin turned her lips upward. She had finally grown a spine. The trick was finding a way to keep the bones firmly in place.

* * *

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Wednesday's Writer's Tip _ Writing ABC's - Ideas #MFRWauthor #Writing

I've decdied to start a seriesof posts based on when I've read books and part of books for critiqueand in contests. I'll start from the beginning and give a little bit of a hint of how I do this and the things I've read about each of the stories I've read, the ones where the author has interested me and the ones who have failed to do this. I won't mention names or give bits of stories but this will be the ideas behind the successes and failures.

The first thing is ideas. I've read many stories where the idea that sent the writer to write a story. They read, see or hear something that sets them to explore. What I've found her while reading these stories is some of the ideas are very trite and don't have a twist on what the writer is staying. They're just like a million other stories I've read. Sometimes the writing is brilliant but I still yawn and think of ten other stories where the same idea is used.

Then there are the stories and I've seen the old idea for a story given a new twist. The twist is what makes the story different and brings the reader in me to sit up and notice. Sometimes the writing is brilliant and I'm swept away. Even when the writing is clumsy and difficult the idea shines through and once the writer learns the building blocks of writing fiction they go on to improve each time they write a story.

There are writers who use the same basic idea time and time again writing enough books to make a series. Their readers continue to give readers what they want to hear.

The world is filled with ideas and it's up to the writer to spin a story that is just a bit different from the stories using the same idea people have written before. So take your idea and examine it with care and spin the story as best as you ca. As you continue to write you'll hopefully learn the building blocks to making a story sing and you're on the way to becoming a story teller.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Tuesday's Inspiration - Inspired by Bird by Bird - Publication #MFRWauthor #inspiration

I chuckled when I read the first sentence of Anne Lamott's essay. "Publication is not going to change your life or solve your problems." How right she is though it sort of changes your life. Suddenly you add a new hat to the ones you're wearing. Idea finder, writer, typist, submitter. Promoter comes to mind and promoting is something you must do. If not the only people who will buy your book will be the few friends and relatives who make the purchase to support you. Then you have to find ways to stir the interest of other people. There's social networking, there are book signings and other fun and not so fun things. Getting your name out there and showing others that your book is an interesting event. Take this slow and easy and learn as you go. There are ads you can buy and they may work or not work. You can hope people will review your books and say glowing words. All this is part of promotion.

So take courage and send yourself into the fray and hope selling your book gives you confidence - probably won't since you don't want to be a one book wonder. Selling that book won't change your appearance and it probably won't make you rich, though that does sometimes happen but usually not with the first book. So ease into tis world and accept the role of promoter. You may find this takes too much time but it's what you have to do.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #poetry #amwriting

Meander 1 - Poem - Soap Bubbles

Soap Bubbles

Those days were childhood, sunshine times and we
Found no misting phantoms just our breaths
Gently blowing bubbles of the mind. Freely
Letting love fly, no thoughts of making choices,
Soapbubbles floating innocentlysurround
Our heads. Children in our buoancy, Wave
The wand abd watch the beads dancing around.
Turning irridescent ranbows, We gave
Each other laughter bubbling from our souls.
In irised fantasies painted on the breeze
Sometimes two bubbles met, joined to make a whole.
We stretched and reached to learn.
Vanished bubbles. Tear damp skin. Drying slowly
In the sun. Childhood's hiddeb deep in memory.

Meander 2 - Writing Retreat. Ten spent Friday night talking and laughing over dinner at an Italian restaurant. Dinner was excellent. We returned to settle in and prepare for the next day of writing. Saturday 10 plua 2 arrived in the meeting room. Were they buns or croussants? I will enver know. Breakfast was good but the fruit salad held too much melon. Coffee was strong. Took six packets of sugar to tame the taste. Had a meeting and then took time for a meeting. Made a change to the contest for the entries. 10 dollars if you enter early, 15 if late. Sounds like a plan and we'll try it. Then we wrote from about 10 until 12 with a break for lunch and then wrote again until about 2:15. Then critique. Seems I managed what I had intended to try.  Around 5 we sought others. Headed to the bar. Decided to eat there. Not nice person wouldn't set a table for 10 people. Don't know why. So we ate where the place would be a dance floor. Anthony, bar tender extroidenary took our orders. Tried tangerine rum in diet Coke first. Too bitter much better when used in regular Coke. Then went to rum and Coke straight. Manager comped one of the drinks. Stayed until they were getting ready to set up our space as the dance floor. Went to our room and I read.

Meander 2 - Writing - Managed to hit 2000 words yesterday. May be less today but that's all right. I will move forward with this project. and then it will be on to other things.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Sunday's Book - Seducing the Innkeeper - At First Sight Book 3 #MFRWauthor #spicyromance

A chance photograph sends Mark Blakefield to Vermont to find something he lost and didn't know about. He has a son. He also has a way to find the woman he fell in love during his last year of college. Her disappearance when he went to pick her up for dinner puzzles him. Though he searched for Christa Parsons for months and never found her. The photograph taken by one of his writers for Good Travelin' shows an inn in Vermont. He rushes off to solve the mystery and claim his son.

Christa Sommers runs the family inn left to her by her mother. Besides making the inn successful, she is raising her nine year old son, Davy. She has to deal with her younger, selfish half-sisters and she has reached the end point of her patience with them.  

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Saturday - Book Free and new release #MFRWauthor #contemporaryromance

Free until Sunday. Just click the cover. Medical romance

Just released - Book 3 of At First Sight