Sunday, March 1, 2015

Cover Reveal - Tate Linders - Mystery on the Missing Ship



SYNOPSIS

Melodie Crane, her twin sister, Lila, and their mother are embarking on a trip to America on the Titanic. 


What is supposed to be a rather uneventful trip turns into mystery, mayhem, and murder. 



Who will make it out alive? Will they find the person responsible for this tragedy?




COVER DESIGN: BookFabulous Designs

ABOUT THE AUTHOR



Tate has always had a passion for reading all genres of books. She loves to write and draw. She is a very bright young lady who loves to learn. Tate is currently 13 years old. She lives in Seneca, Missouri where she attends school and lives with her mom and 2 sisters. She is an amazing, loving, and wonderful daughter, sister, granddaughter, and friend. She is a very warm-spirited young lady who has such a loving and generous heart. She has overcome a lot of events in her life which have made her a stronger person and shown her what she is capable of and the type of person she wants to be in this world. In turn, this has given her the opportunities to be able to build her character and have her light shine bright.

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Wednesday, February 25, 2015

New Release - The Fixer Upper by Anne Conley

From the author of The Stories of Serendipity, and The Four Winds comes a brand new stand alone novel, The Fixer Upper, by Anne Conley.



James, a UK based chef, has tried to make a career with EAT-TV, but his womanizing ways aren’t what they’re looking for with their wholesome family style image.  However, the producers of a new reality show about single life, The Fixer Upper, think he’s perfect.  His agent convinces him to give it a shot.  His overpriced bachelor pad is needing a mortgage payment, and he needs a job to support the tween-aged daughter that’s recently been dumped in his lap.


Margaret Dumas is control freak who has micromanaged her marriage to shambles.  When she makes a deal with her mother to quit fixing her up if she’ll do this new reality show, she thinks she’s won.  No more blind dates, no more friendly advice, no more “chance meetings” with her Mother’s friends’ sons.  The only catch is she’s got to go on detestable reality television and expose her dating habits to a total stranger who is supposed to “fix” her and make her a dating machine.  As if.

When Margaret meets James, they clash on the surface, but deep down they recognize something in the other that they want: redemption.


Excerpt from The Fixer Upper:


“So, tell me about yourself.”  James took a sip of the juice and managed to barely suppress his grimace.  Okay, so it’s not fresh squeezed, get over it.  Pushing her aloofness back in the forefront of her mind, she was better able to control her reactions to him and focus on the situation at hand.
“I’m thirty-eight, divorced, an accountant.  I live here with my dog, Puppet, he’s out in the backyard, or else he’d be in your lap, messing up your, uh… jeans.”  Looking at his jeans while she’d said that


screwed her up again, so she looked around the room.  “Not much to tell…”
“Okay, why did you sign up for the show?”
“Oh, that’s easy.  My mother did it.  I’m doing this to make her happy.  Not really interested in a relationship.  Divorce just finalized last month, and I don’t really see the point in a relationship at this moment.  But she’s brutal in her doggedness.”  She flashed him a smile and his faltered, much to her satisfaction.  “She’s signed me up for online dating, tried introducing me to sons of her friends, you name it.  I’m trying to get her off my back.”
He ran his finger over his bottom lip.  “So let me get this straight.  You have no desire to date, yet you’re on the show to find out how to date?  To be fixed up?”  He leaned back, his arms stretched over the sofa back.  “How utterly lazy of you.”
“What?  No, I’m not lazy.  Far from it—”  She started to explain herself, but he didn’t let her words come out.
“Sounds like it to me.”  He crossed an ankle over his knee in an infuriating gesture.  “You don’t want to date, yet you call us in to do all the work for you.”
Her nerves dissolved as indignation materialized.  She was suddenly angry at this man who came into her house with cameras to make her look like a complete loser.  “That’s not it.  I go out!”
James leaned forward, blue eyes sparkling with interest.  “Now we’re getting there.  Who do you go out with?”
“N-no one.  I go out to a bar by my office.  Alone.”  Margaret tried to steel her voice, but heard her resolve crumble in the hopelessness that her life had become.  She didn’t need this man to make her sound like a loser, she was one. 
“Do you pick up men?”  he asked eagerly, and Margaret stiffened her backbone as he managed to make her habitual routine sound salacious.
“No!  How trashy!  I don’t do one-night stands.”  Loser. 
“I didn’t say you did, pigeon, but do you speak to potential dates in this bar?”  His eyes roamed her legs, and Margaret crossed them self-consciously, to no avail.  The motion seemed to draw his attention further, and his tongue snaked out, resting on the corner of his lip.
“Um, not exactly.”  Would you please put that tongue away?  It’s highly distracting.  “I mean, I speak to them, to say I’m not interested.”
His gaze snapped back up to her eyes, and thankfully, his tongue went back to its typical place.  “So, you’re completely uninterested in dating?”
She shrugged.  “Not uninterested, per se, I just haven’t met anyone who meets my standards, yet.”
He steepled his fingers under his chin, as if deep in thought, and Margaret wondered if the affectation was for the camera.  “What, exactly, are your standards, Ms. Dumas?”
She leaned back and relaxed a little.  This was an easy question.  And it got the focus off her, at least.  “Well, he needs to be taller than me, fit physique, have ambition, be neat, attractive, work a good job, enjoy his mother, no children, be close to my age, and have a hobby.”  Margaret ticked each item off on her fingers like a shopping list.
“Well, that’s not too much to ask, is it?”  She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, as she watched him make some notes on a notepad he retrieved from the case he’d brought in.  “How tall are you?”
“Five foot, nine inches.”
“How fit is fit?”  He stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want a muscle bound god, or are you content with a small spare tire, befitting a man of a certain age?”  His accent distracted her mercilessly, and she had to concentrate on his words instead of his voice.
“I’m not into steroid-users.  They don’t have to be that fit, but spare tires?  Um, I don’t think so.”
“Vague.”  He stood, and to her mortification, reached behind his neck and pulled his t-shirt over his head to reveal the perfectly sculpted torso.  Lean muscle, not too bulky, the smallest trail of reddish-brown hair leading to the snap of his jeans alluding to something impressive down there.  “Do you consider this fit?”
Her eyes were glued to the v formation on his abdomen.  Why did that part of a man’s physique always make her mouth completely fill with saliva?  Her eyes trailed back up over his defined chest—dips and valleys punctuated by a smattering of hair—to admire his wide shoulders.  She noticed his Adam’s apple on her way up to his kissable lips, smirking at her.  Was that a gleam in his eyes?
Shit.  He’d asked her a question, and she had no idea what it was.  Hoping an absent nod would be sufficient, she provided one of those before dragging her eyes away.
“Please put your shirt back on, that’s really not appropriate, um… I don’t think.” 
She managed to release the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when he put his shirt back on, covering the smooth tanned skin and muscles.  Plopping back on the sofa, he resumed his note-taking.
“Now I know what fit means, thank you.  I think the word ambition speaks for itself, but attractive has all sorts of connotations.  Can you elaborate on what you find attractive?”
His eyes were back on her, his gaze seeking answers, flicking back and forth between her eyes. 
“Um, I like dark hair, but blond hair, as long as it’s neat is okay, too.  I’ve always been attracted to light eyes and smooth skin, but a certain ruggedness is okay as well.”  She bit her lip in thought, refusing to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the quiches perfectly arranged on the platter in front of her.  “I suppose a straight nose is in there somewhere, as well as nice lips… ” Her voice trailed off as her eyes rose, with a will of their own, to see him staring at her, that damned smirk on his mouth again.  Nice lips.  Plump, but not too much.  Definitely kissable.  She cleared her throat.
“He needs to have good manners, too.  No chewing with his mouth open, holds doors for ladies, things like that,” she added for good measure, noting to herself how squeaky her voice sounded.
He put his pen behind his ear and slipped his notepad into his case.  “So, let me make sure I’m clear.  You’re looking for a financially stable man in his late thirties, early forties, with hobbies, smooth skin, rugged appeal, dark hair, who works out regularly, has no children, good relationship with his mum, who holds doors for others, doesn’t smack when he chews, and aspirations for even more?”  He clapped his hands on his thighs as if he was about to stand.  “You, my dear, have impossibly high standards.”
One of her eyebrows arched in incredulity.  “Excuse me?”

“If there’s a man out there like that, I’m sure every woman on the planet would like an introduction, but we’ll do our best.  In the meanwhile, you need some work yourself.  If you’re going to hold others to such a high standard, you’ll need to go through some changes.”  He stood, towering over her, his eyes roaming her body, expression unreadable.


Grab your copy on Amazon ,  Scribd, Page Foundry, and Kobo.  
Barnes and Noble and iTunes will have it soon.


Anne's stalker links: 



AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE –   http://www.amazon.com/Anne-Conley/e/B00BL2P538/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1418742574&sr=8-2-ent

WEBSITE / BLOG –   www.anneconley.com

FACEBOOK – www.facebook.com/anneconleyauthor (fan page)  

TWITTER –  @anneconley10

GOOGLE+ - https://plus.google.com/u/0/100235866752242897291/posts

PINTEREST – http://www.pinterest.com/anneconley/

GOODREADS – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6907845.Anne_Conley 
Sign up for Newsletter- http://www.anneconley.com/p/contact.html


Tuesday, February 24, 2015

New Book Release!! Eternal Illusion, by KS Haigwood and Ella Medler

Thanks for stopping in!

The highly anticipated return of everyone's favorite island is FINALLY available for print and eBook!

 

Are your bags packed? You can get your ticket back to the island for only $2.99 and stay as long as you like! This sale price will only last a limited time! Don't miss out!



Want a taste?

Chapter 1
Lost in thought, Abe ran a loving hand over Ariana's swelling belly, then grinned
when she stirred from sleep and blinked lazily up at him. Wrapping his mind
around that – not only had she been his wife for over three months, but was
also carrying his child – was too much of a dream come true, one he never wanted
to wake up from.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cambridge. It's fifteen after one."
Nuzzling closer to him, Ariana yawned and let her eyes drift shut. "Five more
minutes."
He snickered against her hair and then kissed her forehead. "Take all the
time you need, baby, but I have a feeling Becky and Janie will—"
Quick and persistent tapping on the chamber door cut off his words and had him
rolling his eyes in irritation.
"—knock on the door soon," he finished through a clenched jaw, his mood swiftly turning sour at the lack of private time the island's residents allowed him to
have with his wife. "I can kill them, you know. Nobody will find their
bodies. I swear it. Did I ever tell you that I'm a shark whisperer?"
Ariana giggled as she pushed against his body, and when he tried to grab her, she threw a pillow in his face and scrambled out of bed.
He fell back to his own pillow, defeated. "We are going on vacation. No cell
phones. No knocks on the door—unless it's room service—and, best of all, no
distractions."
Laughing as she opened the door, Ariana greeted her friends with a hug and took the coffee Janie held out with a sigh and a gracious smile. "I love both of
you so much."
Abe huffed as he glared at them. "You just saw them yesterday. And you don't
need that caffeine; it's bad for the baby."
Ariana took a long sip and winced as the heat bit her tongue. "The only thing
that's bad for the baby is my blood pressure going up when his or her father
fusses over me too much."
Abe blanched, and started to throw back the comforter to go to her, but thought better of it once he caught sight of Becky and Janie looking at him. Unlike
Ariana, he hadn't dressed after making love the night before.
He exhaled in relief as he studied the growing smirk on his wife's face. She was
the only one who could, quite literally, drop him to his knees with only a few
words. He kept waiting for the spell she had him under to wear off, but with
each day that passed, he had only grown more mesmerized by her charm.
Abe raised an eyebrow. "Come here, devil woman."
"Abe," Becky said, laughing. "There's no time—er… take all the time you need,
Your Highness," she said quickly, when his mouth flattened into a thin
line and his teal eyes locked on her, daring her to say one… more… word.
He would burn that damn clinic to the ground before he would allow anyone to take even one more minute with her away from him. She already worked too many hours as it was. It had started out being only five, but then had swiftly moved up to
six, then seven. He had drawn a line at eight, but, more times than not, Ariana
stayed at the clinic up to ten hours, even against his wishes and constant
phone calls.
He tore his piercing eyes away from Becky and they softened as he met Ariana's
smile.
She set the cup down and crawled up on the mattress and into his awaiting arms. She stared into his eyes as her fingers brushed back the hair hanging over his
ears, reminding him it was time for a trim. That would take all of fifteen
minutes, so what would he do with the other four-hundred-sixty-five minutes she
would be out of his sight?
He had some ass-chewing to do, that's what, and he was going to do that first.
"I'll be back before you know it, Abe," she said sweetly, almost convincingly,
but he knew better; she'd been telling him that every day since she’d started
working, and it had never, ever been true.
Even though he knew arguing would get him absolutely nowhere, he still pleaded his case. "Stay here," he whispered. "Take the day off. I could use
a little healing myself." He grinned devilishly.
The only answer he got was a small smile and a long kiss. Abe wrapped his arms
around her and pulled her across his body, rolling with her until she was lying
on her back and he was looking down at her beautiful face.
He knew she wouldn't concede to his wishes today, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. He had faith that one day she would.
"Sunset, Ariana. Please. I have something I want to show you."
She laughed. "I just bet you do."
He tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and softly kissed her lips.
Lingering a breath away, he spoke so only she could hear. "It's sort of
important and special. It's been in the works for several years, but it's almost
complete now. I didn't want to mention it until Roger said you could see it. He
sent me a text last night, but you were too exhausted after work, so I didn't
say anything. I don't think I can keep from telling you what it is until your
next day off, so please don't overwork yourself today, and try to get out of
there by eight." He paused for a moment. "And eat light for supper;
I'm taking you out afterward."
Ariana's eyes narrowed to thin slits, but there was amusement in them that she couldn't hide behind her fake anger. "You know how much I hate surprises."
Abe knew she could have searched his thoughts in one instant, so he quickly rifled through his memory for the lyrics of Mary Had A Little Lamb, just in case. Mindreading was one witchy trait that could be both a blessing and a curse, but thankfully Ariana tried not to use it too often. For that, he was grateful. It was bad enough that he couldn’t keep his hands off his wife for more than five minutes. Keeping his thoughts off her would be downright impossible.
He kissed her quick and moved away, so she could get up and ready for work. The quicker she left, the quicker he could let out his aggression on someone who couldn't paralyze his vocal chords. "You'll like this one. I promise it won't
embarrass you."
"Can we come?" Janie asked, the petite girl nearly jumping up and down at
hearing about something new and exciting on the island.
Abe chuckled. "Yeah, you can come. Bring someone, if you like," he said,
knowing that Janie had been spending quite a bit of time lately with Ryan from
maintenance, and would more than likely want to bring him along. It was killing
Lance to see her with the guy, but since he had been the one who let her go,
there wasn't a whole hell of a lot he could do about it but mope.
"Who else is going?" Becky asked with a sneer.
Abe shrugged nonchalantly, but he knew she was inquiring whether Will, his brother, was going to be there, and possibly be with Katrista, the girl who had flown to
the island on the back of a minion from Hell under the orders of Apollyon, the
demon who damn near took Ariana away from him in more than one way.
Just thinking about that night made him want to wrap Ariana in the tight cocoon of his arms and never let her out of his sight, but that had been almost three
months ago, and they hadn't seen or heard from the guy since his descent back
into Hell. Gloria, their personal guardian angel, was checking in on a regular
basis, but she hadn't sensed any evil hanging around the island, either. It was
still a struggle to relax, but Abe knew how Ariana hated to be smothered, so he
forced his worry from his features, for her.
"I'm not sure, Becky, but if you think I'm going to tell my brother he can't go just
because you'll be there, then you don't know me very well." He ignored the
hurt look in her eyes and slapped Ariana's butt when she crawled over him to
get out of bed. He chuckled when she yelped.
After hearing the shower come on, he looked back to the two girls standing in the middle of his bedroom. "Would the two of you mind leaving? I'm about to go
shower with my wife, and Ariana threw my boxers across the room last night."
He smiled as the two girls immediately avoided eye contact, their faces turning a
bright shade of pink in embarrassment at being in the same room with their
naked king.
"Go on. Ariana will call you when she's ready to leave. I can't promise you'll be
on time for work, so you may want to leave without her." He stopped and
huffed when they only stood there with sullen expressions. "What? She
isn't yours; she's mine. Go!"
Tripping over their feet, both girls turned and ran for the door.
With a smile on his face, Abe threw back the cover and jogged to the bathroom. He could only see the top of Ariana's wet head, leaned back into the steamy shower
spray, eyes closed as she basked in the warmth of the water. He tiptoed around
the tiled wall that separated the shower from the rest of the bathroom, and had
her in his arms before she even opened her eyes.
Ariana smiled as he touched his lips to hers, and Abe noticed that he couldn't fit his body flush to hers any longer, not with his young growing so rapidly within her
womb.
He ran one hand over the soft skin of her belly and pulled her mouth to his with
his other by the nape of her neck. A low moan escaped her mouth and he drank in
the ecstasy like a wino who had just found a forgotten bottle of
eighty-year-old wine in the cellar.
She gasped for air when he released her mouth to devour her neck and that little spot below her ear she loved for him to kiss.
"Abe," she panted. "I'm going to be late for work."
An approving growl rumbled from his chest as her hands slid down to his hips.
"Damn right, you are. I told Becky and Janie to go on without you, that
you would be there when you damn well got there."
She laughed against his mouth when he claimed ownership once again. "You are
such a king."
Lowering his head to explore more of what she had to offer him, he looked from one tempting mound to the other, and finally decided to take the left rosy nub
between his lips and softly massage the other with his hand. Decisions,
decisions. It was a tough job being a man in love. He often thought he needed
at least one extra mouth. Wondering vaguely whether Ariana might be able to
witch it on his body, somewhere, he focused on the task in hand.
Ariana's lips parted, and he smiled when a rush of pleasurable sounds echoed off the walls of the bathroom.
With his other hand free, he ran his long fingers over the cheek of her ass, down
the back of her thigh and pulled her right knee up to his hip. He wasn't
worried about her getting off balance and falling. He had her. He had all of
her.
His head jerked up and he crushed his mouth on hers just as he slid through the
soft folds of her sex and into his most favorite place to be.
His jaw clamped shut and his hand shot out to brace them against the shower wall when her muscles tightened around his erection.
"Yeeees!"
The cry escaped her throat and her nails clawed the skin on his back, but he
pumped into her, keeping a steady rhythm and watching her expression as the
orgasm threatened to rip through her body. "Abe…" she said, winded,
and grabbed his biceps, squeezing the thick muscles and making him grin,
"I—I need…"
"I know, baby. Just let it go." He jerked his hand from the wall, pulling her
other leg up, and just like a pro, she hooked her ankles at the small of his back
and took all of him. His knees damn near buckled.
Aiming to get his own release by the time Ariana's climax was over, Abe growled and quickened his strides. Her body quaked all around him. He was almost there. He
was there.
"Take my vein," Ariana whispered.
Pulling a bit back from the rush, he blinked the water out of his eyes and looked down at her in confusion. Sure enough, her head was tilted to the side and her wet
hair was moved away, baring her neck and that throbbing vein to him. He jerked
his head away, trying to ignore the instant bloodlust and the anger that was
quickly boiling up inside him.
"No," he said shortly.
"Abe, please. You need it. I want you to."
He stopped moving inside her and set her feet on the wet tile. Grabbing a towel
from the hook on the wall, he threw it around his waist, tying it extra tight,
so just maybe it would cut off the circulation in his erection and deflate the
damn thing.
"Abe! Where are you going?"
"Not now, Ariana." He threw open the bathroom door and walked into the bedroom, and wasn't a bit surprised to hear she had followed.
"What did I do? I don't understand why you're acting this way. Talk to me, damn
you!" she shouted when he only stood at his closet and shoved hanger after
hanger to the right. Hell, he wasn't even sure what he was looking for.
He stopped and let his arm fall, but didn't turn around. "You know how I feel
about using you as a meeker while you're pregnant. We've had this discussion
before, Ariana. Hell, we've even fought about it a few times, but you don't
seem to understand or maybe you just don't care; I don't know—"
"You think that I don't care about my child?" she said, and Abe turned around,
the muscles in his jaw doing the same workout they did every time their
conversation led to him feeding from her. "How can you even say
that?" she snapped. "If I felt, in any way, that you taking the
amount of blood from me that you need would hurt the baby, I wouldn't ask you
to do it." She pointed to her chest, and fury burned throughout Abe's bones.
"I know it won't hurt the baby—"
"But I don't!" he roared, causing her to flinch. He shook his head and reached
into the closet, grabbing a random shirt and a pair of jeans. When he looked
back at her, he was a little calmer, but not much. "I don't know what is
good or what is bad for the baby, Ariana, but I can't imagine taking anything
from you that the baby needs could ever be a good thing. I won't do it."
He ripped the towel away, and to his delight, either the terrycloth or his pissy
mood had done the job, because Mr. Happy wasn't so happy anymore. Without
wasting time going to the dresser for boxers, he just shoved one leg at a time
in the jeans then buttoned and zipped the fly. After throwing the shirt over
his head and pushing his arms through the armholes, Abe finally made his way to
the dresser to grab socks.
"Abe," Ariana whispered, but he didn't look at her. He couldn't look at her when he was this mad, especially when it was her that he was mad at. "Abe, look at
me. I have to go to work, and I don't want to leave you upset." He still
didn't say anything.
Abe put his socks on and located his boots by the bar. Tying the sons of bitches
wasn't going to happen with his hands shaking so badly, so he just shoved his
feet in, grabbed his keys from the bar and headed for the door.
"Abe! Where are you going? The sun is out!"
"Go to work, Ariana. I'll see you later."
He jerked open the door, then slammed it shut behind him.

Interested? What? You haven't read Eternal Island or Eternal Immortality yet? No worries! I've got you covered! 



 Eternal Island:

Eternal Immortality:

Eternal Illusion:

Like angels, demons, vampires, werewolves, suspense, urban fantasy and romance? Check out K. S. Haigwood's other books.

 

Like thrillers, suspense, romance and satire? Check out Ella Medler's other books.
Thank you for stopping in!




Wednesday, February 18, 2015

The Holly Project by KA Steritt Spotlight and Interview


Title: The Holly Project

Author name: KA Sterritt



Genre: Contemporary romance

Blurb:
“One foot in front of the other. Breathe in, breathe out.”

Holly Ashton hasn’t celebrated her birthday since her mother passed away. Instead, it’s the one day of the year that she allows herself to grieve. The rest of the year is spent pretending to be the strong and independent woman she wants to be.
Professionally, she has it all together. A great job as an architect at Sydney’s most prestigious firm keeps her focused.
Her personal life is far less charmed. Emotionally detached from everyone other than her small circle of friends and family, relationships are a no-go zone.






Life is exactly how she wants it to be – until the day of her twenty-fifth birthday.
A chance encounter with Ryan Davenport, CEO of a property development firm, turns her tightly controlled life upside down.
Ryan is driven, ambitious and used to getting what he wants – and very unexpectedly, what he wants is the beautiful, smart-mouthed Holly Ashton.
When neither of them believes in happily ever afters, how are they supposed to find their own?



What motivates you to sit down and write?
 I love it! Having a scene in my head and then getting it out in the way I envisaged is an incredible feeling.

Where does your inspiration come from?

I love this question. I am inspired all the time by books, music, my husband, things in everyday life, other authors. If you’re looking for it, inspiration is everywhere!

Do you have any writers that you consider mentors?

GJ Walker-Smith and Beth Flynn. They are fantastic authors and I’m grateful to count them both as friends.

What is your biggest challenge?

As with many writers, I am time poor. Writing a novel takes a serious amount of time and that’s not easy to come by when you need to sleep too.

Do you ever experience writer's block?  How do you get through it?

I find the only way to get through writer’s block is to stop overthinking it and just write whatever comes into my head. I read a quote somewhere that stuck with me. “You can’t edit a blank page.” It’s true. Plus, everything I write is improving my craft and you never know what ideas you get even from scenes which will be deleted.

Name some authors who have influenced or inspired you?

So many! GJ Walker-Smith has taught me so much about writing. Her books are beautiful and inspiring. I love the genius minds of Alessandra Torre and Tarryn Fisher and I aspire to be more fearless like them in my writing. I think Samantha Young writes incredible chemistry between her main characters.

Tell a little about your most recent work.  Title, genre, and tag line.

The Holly Project. It’s a contemporary romance based in Sydney, Australia. Tag line is “Sometimes playing it safe is the biggest risk of all.”

What makes a good story?

In my opinion, a good story is one where the reader is immediately engaged and cares about the main characters. If the chemistry is good, I want to be a part of their journey.

How do you market your work?

Facebook primarily, but I’m also Twitter, Tsu, Instagram and I have a website.

Do you have a current work in progress?  Can you tell a little bit about it?

I’m currently working on a book I am really excited about. It is set in Melbourne, Australia and is another contemporary romance. I had originally thought my second book would be a follow on from The Holly Project focusing on a secondary character, but the story in my head was screaming to be told.

Tell us about yourself, outside of writing.

I’m a very busy stay at home mum to three boys aged 8, 6 and 3. We live in Sydney, Australia and I’m married to my best friend and soul mate. I am a serious Bookaholic and have a To Be Read list a mile long! Writing is an incredibly satisfying outlet for me and I take any opportunities I get to do it.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Valentine's Blog Hop



I'm soooo late to this party, I don't even know if anyone's going to see me or not, but in interests of better late than never, those of you who read this excerpt from The Fixer Upper and comment in the section below will be entered to win some cool shit---swag, paperbacks, and ebooks.  Also, don't forget about the Rafflecopter, and be sure to hit up the other blogs on the list below.  :)


Due out this week, so keep checking the blog for updates!

James is a has-been restaurateur from the UK, trying desperately to get himself out of the hole he’s dug for himself, while trying to figure out how to suddenly be a Dad for his brand-new tween-ager.   He thinks he’s fixing things, or at least he’s making a mortgage payment, when he takes a job on a dating show as the Fixer Upper. 

Margaret’s life is perfect.  At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.  A recent divorcee, she can’t believe she’s turned into a cliché.  When she makes a deal with her ever-helpful mother who will stop fixing her up with men, if Margaret will go on a dating show, she thinks she’s solved one of her problems. 


What happens when the womanizing TV host meets the classy lady with OCD tendencies?  Can they find what they need in each other?




Excerpt:

“You must be Ms. Margaret Dumas.”  Stunned, Margaret stood there as the man’s words fell off his tongue, whirled through the air, and brushed across her skin, tickling it.  He was British, from the UK somewhere, that much was evident.  Accents could make up for a host of various faults, in Margaret’s mind.  A dimple on his chin called to her.  She wanted to rake her hands through his auburn hair, artfully tousled and a little long for her liking.  He was built nicely, but it was hard to say exactly how well built he was, covered in his designer clothes.  He wore jeans, slung low on slim hips and a t-shirt under a black leather jacket.  Tough looking.  Was that an earring?  Why was she looking so hard?  She wouldn’t be set up with him.  He wasn’t her type anyway.  Much too casual.  Too carefree.  Too hot.
She was staring.
“Yes.  Sorry.  Come in.”  Embarrassed, she backed up, allowing him to follow her into the house, gesturing to the snacks on the table.  “Help yourself.”  Suddenly nervous, she smoothed her hands
down her skirt again, pressing out invisible wrinkles in an effort to press her frazzled nerves.
“Call me James, and may I call you Maggie?”  His voice was a decadent mix of husky and smooth, floating in the air around her, embracing her in an erotic coccoon.  She could feel goose bumps raise between her shoulders and rolled them to ease the sensation.  This guy in her house was doing weird things to her, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Um, Margaret, please.  James.”  She tested his name in her mouth, and it sounded… nice.
“Margaret.”  Her name sounded positively sinful dropping from his lips in that accent.  She had to give herself a mental shake as he casually strode to her couch, his movements easy, graceful.  He wasn’t big, just solid, and the way he moved was purposeful, like he knew exactly what he wanted from this situation.  He sat on the sofa and smiled at her, surely an attempt to put her at ease, but it didn’t work at all.  The cameraman hovered in the corner of the room, his lens pointed at the two of them.
She perched on the edge of the chair and poured him some juice into her best crystal glasses, unable to look at him.  Men didn’t make her nervous.  What the hell was happening to her?
“So, tell me about yourself.”  James took a sip of the juice and managed to barely suppress his grimace.  Okay, so it’s not fresh squeezed, get over it.  Pushing her aloofness back in the forefront of her mind, she was better able to control her reactions to him and focus on the situation at hand.
“I’m thirty-eight, divorced, an accountant.  I live here with my dog, Puppet, he’s out in the backyard, or else he’d be in your lap, messing up your, uh… jeans.”  Looking at his jeans while she’d said that screwed her up again, so she looked around the room.  “Not much to tell…”
“Okay, why did you sign up for the show?”
“Oh, that’s easy.  My mother did it.  I’m doing this to make her happy.  Not really interested in a relationship.  Divorce just finalized last month, and I don’t really see the point in a relationship at this moment.  But she’s brutal in her doggedness.”  She flashed him a smile and his faltered, much to her satisfaction.  “She’s signed me up for online dating, tried introducing me to sons of her friends, you name it.  I’m trying to get her off my back.”
He ran his finger over his bottom lip.  “So let me get this straight.  You have no desire to date, yet you’re on the show to find out how to date?  To be fixed up?”  He leaned back, his arms stretched over the sofa back.  “How utterly lazy of you.”
“What?  No, I’m not lazy.  Far from it—”  She started to explain herself, but he didn’t let her words come out.
“Sounds like it to me.”  He crossed an ankle over his knee in an infuriating gesture.  “You don’t want to date, yet you call us in to do all the work for you.”
Her nerves dissolved as indignation materialized.  She was suddenly angry at this man who came into her house with cameras to make her look like a complete loser.  “That’s not it.  I go out!”
James leaned forward, blue eyes sparkling with interest.  “Now we’re getting there.  Who do you go out with?”
“N-no one.  I go out to a bar by my office.  Alone.”  Margaret tried to steel her voice, but heard her resolve crumble in the hopelessness that her life had become.  She didn’t need this man to make her sound like a loser, she was one. 
“Do you pick up men?”  he asked eagerly, and Margaret stiffened her backbone as he managed to make her habitual routine sound salacious.
“No!  How trashy!  I don’t do one-night stands.”  Loser. 
“I didn’t say you did, pigeon, but do you speak to potential dates in this bar?”  His eyes roamed her legs, and Margaret crossed them self-consciously, to no avail.  The motion seemed to draw his attention further, and his tongue snaked out, resting on the corner of his lip.
“Um, not exactly.”  Would you please put that tongue away?  It’s highly distracting.  “I mean, I speak to them, to say I’m not interested.”
His gaze snapped back up to her eyes, and thankfully, his tongue went back to its typical place.  “So, you’re completely uninterested in dating?”
She shrugged.  “Not uninterested, per se, I just haven’t met anyone who meets my standards, yet.”
He steepled his fingers under his chin, as if deep in thought, and Margaret wondered if the affectation was for the camera.  “What, exactly, are your standards, Ms. Dumas?”
She leaned back and relaxed a little.  This was an easy question.  And it got the focus off her, at least.  “Well, he needs to be taller than me, fit physique, have ambition, be neat, attractive, work a good job, enjoy his mother, no children, be close to my age, and have a hobby.”  Margaret ticked each item off on her fingers like a shopping list.
“Well, that’s not too much to ask, is it?”  She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, as she watched him make some notes on a notepad he retrieved from the case he’d brought in.  “How tall are you?”
“Five foot, nine inches.”
“How fit is fit?”  He stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want a muscle bound god, or are you content with a small spare tire, befitting a man of a certain age?”  His accent distracted her mercilessly, and she had to concentrate on his words instead of his voice.
“I’m not into steroid-users.  They don’t have to be that fit, but spare tires?  Um, I don’t think so.”
“Vague.”  He stood, and to her mortification, reached behind his neck and pulled his t-shirt over his head to reveal the perfectly sculpted torso.  Lean muscle, not too bulky, the smallest trail of reddish-brown hair leading to the snap of his jeans alluding to something impressive down there.  “Do you consider this fit?”
Her eyes were glued to the v formation on his abdomen.  Why did that part of a man’s physique always make her mouth completely fill with saliva?  Her eyes trailed back up over his defined chest—dips and valleys punctuated by a smattering of hair—to admire his wide shoulders.  She noticed his Adam’s apple on her way up to his kissable lips, smirking at her.  Was that a gleam in his eyes?
Shit.  He’d asked her a question, and she had no idea what it was.  Hoping an absent nod would be sufficient, she provided one of those before dragging her eyes away.
“Please put your shirt back on, that’s really not appropriate, um… I don’t think.” 
She managed to release the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when he put his shirt back on, covering the smooth tanned skin and muscles.  Plopping back on the sofa, he resumed his note-taking.
“Now I know what fit means, thank you.  I think the word ambition speaks for itself, but attractive has all sorts of connotations.  Can you elaborate on what you find attractive?”
His eyes were back on her, his gaze seeking answers, flicking back and forth between her eyes. 
“Um, I like dark hair, but blond hair, as long as it’s neat is okay, too.  I’ve always been attracted to light eyes and smooth skin, but a certain ruggedness is okay as well.”  She bit her lip in thought, refusing to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the quiches perfectly arranged on the platter in front of her.  “I suppose a straight nose is in there somewhere, as well as nice lips… ” Her voice trailed off as her eyes rose, with a will of their own, to see him staring at her, that damned smirk on his mouth again.  Nice lips.  Plump, but not too much.  Definitely kissable.  She cleared her throat.
“He needs to have good manners, too.  No chewing with his mouth open, holds doors for ladies, things like that,” she added for good measure, noting to herself how squeaky her voice sounded.
He put his pen behind his ear and slipped his notepad into his case.  “So, let me make sure I’m clear.  You’re looking for a financially stable man in his late thirties, early forties, with hobbies, smooth skin, rugged appeal, dark hair, who works out regularly, has no children, good relationship with his mum, who holds doors for others, doesn’t smack when he chews, and aspirations for even more?”  He clapped his hands on his thighs as if he was about to stand.  “You, my dear, have impossibly high standards.”
One of her eyebrows arched in incredulity.  “Excuse me?”

“If there’s a man out there like that, I’m sure every woman on the planet would like an introduction, but we’ll do our best.  In the meanwhile, you need some work yourself.  If you’re going to hold others to such a high standard, you’ll need to go through some changes.”  He stood, towering over her, his eyes roaming her body, expression unreadable.

Other participating blogs:


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We Love Kink
Lucy Felthouse
Victoria Blisse
Romancing Rakes For The Love of Romance
Lily Harlem
The Brit Babes
Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog
Jen's All About Books
The Conley Corner
Livre It To Me Book Blog
KissinBlueKaren
Mama's Dirty Little Reads
Romance Readers Book Blog
book bangs
Nicely Phrased
Perusing Princesses
deal sharing aunt
Bitten By Love
I am a book addict...and proud of it
Love Bites and Silk
Author Amanda Bretz
Ariel's World
Mama's Dirty Little Reads



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