Along Came Pauly by Chris Redding

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Blurb:

A contemporary romance about a dog that brings two people together who don’t want to be. She’s a vegetarian veterinarian who needs cash for a no-kill shelter. He’s the heir to a hot dog fortune who must give away money before he gains his inheritance. Sounds like a perfect match. It isn’t.

*~*

Excerpt:

     She didn’t have time to soothe his ego. If he couldn’t understand about animal emergencies than she couldn’t explain it to him.

Not now. Not ever.

Running down the steps in front of the hotel, she stumbled. When she landed upright, the heel of one shoe broke. “Damn. Cheap shoes.” She pulled them off, standing in her stockinged feet.

She gave the valet her ticket then waited for her car. A light drizzle, dropping the temperature. She shivered hoping the valet hadn’t parked too her car far away from her.

After what seemed like an eternity, the young man pulled up. She shook his hand, slipping him some bills for his trouble. At least she tried. She ended up dropping the bills. He reached for the money the same time she did. Her shoulder hit him in the eye.

“Ouch.”

“I’m sorry.”

The parking guy managed to stay on his feet. Daria landed on her butt in a puddle. Another dress ruined. “How about I let you get the money?”

“Can I help you up?”

“Maybe you better not.”

 

Fight Card Romance: Ladies Night by Jill Tunney

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FIGHT CARD ROMANCE: LADIES NIGHT

L.A. 1954 … gangsters, crime, young love and – murder.

Boxing hopeful, Jimmy Doherty’s in the fight of his life to save his bride, Lindy, from a murder rap before both of them wind up on a slab.

*~* 

MY FAVORITE EXCERPT FROM “LADIES NIGHT” IS:  when Lindy, the young bride of the boxing hopeful, Jimmy Doherty, arrested for the murder of another boxer, is placed in a jail cell where she meets two “pro-skirts” – prostitutes.

 

Lindy turned and strained to see into the shadows of the cells further away from hers, toward the laughter. She thought she was alone in the large depressing room.

The voice came again. “Keep you pants on, Bertha May. Don’t mean no harm.”

“Well, watch yourself,” Bertha May said, turning around to stalk back to her post. A moment later, she got up from her chair and left the cell block.

Lindy continued to stare in the direction the voice had come from. “Hello. Who’s there?”

“Hey, chicky, it’s me.”

Two cells across and down from Lindy’s, a woman’s hands appeared through the bars. “Saw you come in today. Guess they pinched you, too.”

“Pinched?” Lindy said confused.

“Yeah, you know. Got snatched up by the heat, put the screws to, given a vacation in the big-house.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You was arrested, right?”

“Yes,” Lindy said hanging her head until it banged against the hard steel bars.

“So whatcha do? They catch you wearing iron tryin’ to pop one of your johns.”

Another female voice chimed in, “No, Daisy. Miss Priss ain’t never been a night-lady like us.”

The first woman turned around to look behind her at someone else in her cell. “That right, Louella?”

The second woman, who must have been laying down on one of the cots, stood and glanced across the aisle at Lindy through the gloom. “Cain’t you see just by lookin’ at her she ain’t no pro-skirt. That’s a right fine dress she’s a wearing. Classy. Not like you and me. Ain’t that right, honey?”

“No. I’m not a …” Lindy waved her hands looking for the appropriate word.

“It’s all right, honey. We know who we are and what we do. It ain’t no crime.” She and her companion burst out laughing. “Well, I guess it is a crime.”

“That is unless the chief and the squad boys want some.” Both women guffawed.

“Done that one a time or two,” Louella said.

Lindy recognized the women now. They were the two pro-skirts, ladies-of-ill-repute, who were sitting in the waiting area.

Louella, a Negro woman, was dressed much like her companion – short, tight skirt, overly stretched-sweater pulled low exposing most of what the good lord blessed them with. They’d teased their hair up into the mile-high beehives – Daisy’s, fire engine red and Louella’s, an unnatural midnight black.

Even in the dark, Lindy could see their make-up hadn’t survived the day. Most of it had floated south on their faces like a slow-moving river making them look like sad circus clowns. Daisy especially. Or had she been crying?

“So, if you ain’t one of us, who’d you mug or rub out?” Daisy said.

“I was arrested for the murder of Rocko Russo, the fighter.”

“Ain’t no way,” Louella said. “You tellin’ the truth?”

“Yes. Rocko’s dead. But I didn’t kill him.”

“Of course not, honey,” Louella said. “A little thing like you couldn’a hurt a fly let alone that horrible monster. That big brute had some mean muscle on him, went all the way to the bone all right.”

“And a terrible mean fist,” Daisy said, sadness on her make-up smeared face.

Lindy was afraid to ask. She could only guess how they were acquainted with Rocko and she hurt for them.

“So, DeLuca, he’s the one that nabbed you?” Louella said, threading her arms through the bars. “He’s a looker, that one. Um-mmm. That’s right. Mighty fine.”

“You ever do him?” Daisy turned to Louella.

“Nah. He’s a saint. Waiting on Miss Right an all.”

“Say, chickie.” Daisy turned to Lindy. “You and DeLuca …” Daisy winked.

“What?” Lindy felt the blood drain from her head. “Absolutely not. I’m married.”

“That right?” Louella perked up. “Who’s the lucky man?”

Lindy smiled for the first time in many hours. “He’s a boxer and such a wonderful, handsome man.”

“You don’t say? What’s his name? Maybe I know him.” Her smile was sly.

Lindy hoped she was teasing. “Jimmy Doherty. Won his first bout last Friday night.”

Louella shook her head. “Remember, Daisy. We was with Rocko till nearly midnight after his fight before he ditched us and took off.”

There was a deep sorrow etched on Daisy’s face and for the first time, Lindy saw the remnants of what looked like a mouse under Daisy’s eye. “Oh, yeah. I remember.”

Louella broke the somber mood that fell over the cellblock. “So what now, honey? You just coolin’ your heels in stir with us here big-time mama’s?”

Louella shook her dark head and hooted a bawdy laugh. “That just don’t seem right, a pretty little thing like you accused of murderin’ that no good, dirty snake. Not right at all. DeLuca’ll find out the truth. Yes, sir. Ain’t right. At least that bugger ain’t goin’ hurt us no more.”

What had Rocko done to these two women? Lindy could only imagine and she didn’t like what she thought. She couldn’t understand how women like Daisy and Louella could shame themselves and take up the oldest profession. She wished she could help them, take away their troubles and removed them from the filthy, self-degrading way they had to make a living. But what could she do?

*~* 

AUTHOR BIO: 

Carol Malone successfully combines her three passions – writing, sports, and romance to become the very first woman to climb into the boxing ring of a male-dominated series called Fight Card. Think Rocky meets The Untouchables, Carol’s written a mash-up of happily ever after with kick-in-the-pants, fist-pounding action.

If not hammering out new tales to entice her readers to scramble into a front row seat for thrilling tales of physical endurance and tender passion, Carol’s reading, watching sports on TV, or hanging with her end-of-the-world author husband on the cool coast of California. To talk sports and amour, and learn about Carol’s latest book releases, visit Carol on her website: www.carolmalone.net.

Simple Man by Lydia Michaels

SimpleMan_LRG| SCP |

Blurb:

Months after Shane Martin’s sister vanishes, life crashes down and he finds himself the guardian of a nephew he never knew existed. Blissfully ignorant, Shane trades in his musician status, full of late nights and fast women, for midnight feedings and lullabies. But when Kate McAlister, his prissy, stuck up caseworker, arrives unexpectedly, he realizes he could lose everything.

Kate isn’t impressed by Shane’s messy bachelor pad, rocker image, or sexy tattoos. As a matter of fact she finds it all very sophomoric. The sooner she’s off the case the better. Everything from his long hair to his sarcastic attitude threatens her professionalism. But when he lowers his guard and asks for help, she discovers a side to this tattooed musician she can’t resist. Behind this simple man is an unsung hero.

Book Trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwSnY5u_sak

 

Simple Man is told strictly from the male hero’s POV and takes readers on a comical and heartwarming journey.

EXCERPT

When Duce left, Shane sifted through the bag. There were tiny diapers, wipes, some sort of yoga mat thing, a bunch of creams. He laughed when he saw something called Butt Paste. That was self-explanatory.

There was something resembling a miniature turkey baster. He found clothes, itty-bitty socks, a knit cap, a few rattles, two containers of formula, some bottles, and a small booklet with doctor’s visits listed in it. He recognized the writing as his sister’s and a strange, sad nostalgia settled over him.

Was she here watching him now? “He’s beautiful, Noel,” he whispered. “I’m gonna do this. Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out and I’ll take good care of him for you. You’ll see.”

By the time Duce returned Shane was reading the bottle of formula. “What’s that?” his friend asked as he plopped down the paper takeout bag of food.

“Formula. I didn’t find any food. Do you think I should wake him to eat?”

“Uh, isn’t there some rule about never waking a sleeping baby?”

Shane shrugged. “Maybe I should make up a bottle so it’s ready when he does wake. He’s been sleeping for two hours. He’s gotta be hungry.”

Shane wished he had Internet. He wasn’t really computer savvy, but people were always talking about finding shit online. Duce was staring at him with a peculiar look. “What?”

“I think you should give him back.”

“Give him back? There is no back. I’m it.”

“He’s just all perfect and small. What if you fuck him up?”

“Hey, don’t curse in front of him. And I’m not going to mess him up. I just need some practice. I’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe you should ask someone who has kids what to do.”

Shane reached for an egg roll. “I don’t know anyone with kids. I have to take a class and I have a crap load of reading material.”

“When do you take the class? Maybe that was something you should have done beforehand.”

“It starts tomorrow night. I’ll be fine.”

They ate and zoned out to some reality TV. Baby Shane was so quiet they’d almost forgotten about him. Then Duce’s face began to twitch. “Dude, what’s that smell?”

Shane sniffed and choked. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to make his eyes water. “Aw man, did you fart?”

“Wasn’t me.”

In unison, they slowly turned to the baby who still slept soundly. He leaned over and sniffed, almost gagging as he jerked back. “Holy crap! How could something so pintsize smell that bad?”

Duce covered his mouth and went to the window, quickly opening it to let some air in. The little guy made a tiny nook-nook sound and his miniature fist curled up by his chin in a dainty stretch. He looked like the fighting Irish.

“It’s moving,” Duce whispered as though the baby were a bomb about to detonate. And suddenly an explosion happened.

Baby Shane’s face screwed up tight, turning an unnatural shade of red. His mouth opened wide, showing nothing but pink gums, and an unholy squawk roared out of him.

They jumped and stared as the baby screamed, his little chest working in quick breaths as he drew in only enough air to force out another shrill, squawking cry.

“Do something!” Duce demanded.

Shane panicked. He reached for the book and began to thumb through, not sure what he was looking for.

“Don’t fucking read! Pick it up!” Duce snapped.

Shane tossed the book on the couch and quickly kneeled in front of the angry baby. He wailed and Shane began to freak. Was he in pain? Ugh, the smell coming off of him was burning the back of his throat. “Sweet Jesus, he stinks!”

He quickly removed the soft blanket. Shane was strapped down with some sort of five-point harness a person needed a degree in engineering to figure out. He pressed buttons and undid latches, shaking with the urgent need to make him stop screaming.

Sweat seeped through the baby’s tiny cotton jumper. The closer he got the worse the stench became.

“I thought babies were supposed to smell good?” Duce said, fanning the front door to let some air in.

“So did I. I can’t figure out how to unbuckle him!”

“Hit the red buttons on the side. You gotta get the handle out of the way.”

Sweat trickled into his eyes as he tried to dismantle the carrier. Finally he had the harness undone. “Now what?”

“Pick it up!”

“He stinks!”

Duce scowled. “So, my ear drums are about to burst. You gotta get in there. Tough it out. Take one for the team!”

Shane carefully picked up the screaming baby. He held him in front of his chest like a potted plant. He was so incredibly light. “What now?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who’s supposed to be Mr. Mom. Comfort it. Pat its back. Sing or something!”

Shane stood and awkwardly turned, swaying slightly. He didn’t want to shake him and break him. He sang the first song that came to his mind, wincing at the lyrics about loaded guns.

Duce’s mouth fell open. “Teen Spirit? Really? How about Rock-a-bye Baby?”

“I don’t know Rock-a-bye Baby. Nirvana’s the first thing that popped into my head.”

“It’s not really appropriate, Shane,” Duce said coolly as if he were suddenly more qualified than him with babies.

“You wanna try?”

“No, I’m set.”

He continued to sing Teen Spirit and eventually Baby Shane quieted. Blue eyes stared back at him and slowly the world began to settle.

Shane was sweating and Duce looked petrified.

“Hi,” Shane said. The baby blinked. “I’m your Uncle Shane.”

“I don’t think he can talk.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

 

D3S_2065editBuy Links:

www.LydiaMichaels.org

http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=736&zenid=3a35226c8c546aac1f9dc4ba86c933a0

 

 

Shifters: An Anthology by Suzanne Rock

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Out just in time for Halloween, this ebook anthology of alpha male shifters is a compilation of three of my most popular M/F erotic stories. Within the first 48 hours, this bundle became an All Romance Ebooks top 20 best seller, and an Amazon top 50 best seller in anthologies. If bought separately, all of these books owuld cost $9.97. If you bought together, you’ll get one book for FREE.

Included in this series:

Cria – Aleta runs the ancient breeding race to gain her freedom, but when she runs into someone from her past deep within the Amazon rain forest, she must decide if freedom is truly what her heart desires.

Spyder’s Web – A tough cop tracks down a beautiful serial killer and discovers that things aren’t always what they seem.

Up on the Housetop – Chloe goes up to the rooftop of her childhood home to escape her controlling family and discovers an an erotic adventure she will never forget.

*~*

Below is an excerpt from one of of the shifter stories, Up on the Housetop:

This time her father had gone too far.

Chloe Bradford threw open the window, grabbed the open bottle of Cristal, and walked out onto her third-floor bedroom balcony. After a few minutes of pitiful acrobatics and a long string of curses, she managed to pull herself up onto the roof. For some reason, the climb had seemed much easier when she was sixteen.

“Damn, my glass.” Chloe carefully placed the bottle down and climbed back into her bedroom.

“Where did it go?” She scanned the pink and white walls in disgust. Chloe had loved the color scheme back when her mother had picked it out. Then again, she’d been only eight at the time. Now, at thirty-two, it made her think of a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. When she’d gone off to college, she thought she’d never see this place again. She’d been wrong. Funny how some things come full circle.

Frowning, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. No glass. Maybe she left it downstairs. Too bad. She’d much rather drink from the bottle than go back down there and subject herself to that humiliation again. It was a “drink from the bottle” type of night, anyway.

She shimmied back out to her champagne on the roof. The Spanish-style mansion was like a lot of the other houses in the area. The roof was very flat and a nightmare during times of rain, but it was perfect for a teenager or two to get away from their parents for a few hours.

Or for a middle-aged woman to hide from a marriage proposal.

Chloe took a seat and placed her almost-full bottle next to her. It had been a long time since she’d come out here to wish on the stars and dream of her future.

Now she just wanted to escape it.

She sighed and held up the bottle of Cristal to the full moon hanging low in the sky. She wasn’t much of a drinker and wasn’t exactly a fan of champagne, but desperate times called for desperate measures. After the huge fight, she just wanted to get out of there. She had grabbed the closest bottle and left her parents and boyfriend gaping in the dining room below.

She brought the champagne to her lips. The bubbly liquid tickled her throat as she gulped it down. What happened to her life?

When she was a little girl, she had dreamed of becoming a concert pianist. Her senior year in high school, she’d gotten accepted into a program at Juilliard. A few months later, she’d become engaged to her high school sweetheart. For a while it seemed like everything was going great.

Then, a semester before she was due to graduate, her life changed forever.

Chloe blinked back tears and took another sip of champagne.

Marcus, her older brother, and her fiancé, Zach, had gone backpacking in Montana. They never returned. A frenzied search turned up her brother’s body but not Zach’s. She shivered as she thought back to that day when they had heard the news. The autopsy revealed that Marcus was mauled by some large animal, a bear or a wolf or something. Zach’s body was never found.

Marcus had been groomed to take over the family business and control the bulk of their inheritance. Chloe would receive a small stipend from the family coffers to live on, but she could otherwise do as she pleased. After that day, she was the sole heir to the Bradford family fortune. Now it was now up to her, not Marcus, to keep the business going when her father retired.

That meant no more school.

No more friends.

No more life.

She should’ve told her father to shove the inheritance, but Chloe loved her parents and knew they were grieving. She’d only intended to stay in Texas for a short time, but somehow she had ended up being her father’s shadow for the past eleven years.

She took another sip of champagne and leaned back on her elbows. Clouds had moved in, hiding the stars and blanketing the moon. She remembered when she and Zach used to climb up here at night to have sex underneath the night sky. It had been so wonderful back then. Before her new responsibilities. Before Karl.

“Why did Karl have to propose tonight? On Christmas Eve?” she asked the moon.

It didn’t answer.

Her father was behind the proposal; she knew it. They were all expecting her to say yes, but the words caught in her throat. She just couldn’t.

She refused to spend the rest of her days as boring Mrs. Karl Radcliffe, heiress to the Bradford billions. Karl was nice enough, but there was no chemistry between them, at least not the type of chemistry she had shared with Zach. But Zach was gone, and it was her

Zach.

Get over it, Chloe. It’s time to move on.

Accepting Karl’s proposal was like giving up on the idea that Zach would return and free her from this miserable life. After a marriage to Karl, there would be no more going back. No more hope. No more dreaming of what could have been. The young, innocent, fun-loving Chloe would finally be dead.

“I wish I could escape this place.” She stood and swayed slightly. “Escape my family.” Tilting her head back and raising her arms, she shouted at the moon. “I don’t want this life anymore, do you hear me? Take it back.”

Silence.

“What’s wrong with me?” Chloe dropped her arms and pushed her curly mop of hair from her face. “Why can’t I just tell them to take the inheritance and shove it?”

She knew why. She was chicken. Her parents were the only family she had left. They’d been through so much with her brother’s death, and she didn’t want to add to their grief. “For once I wish I didn’t have to do what was expected of me,” she said to the moon. “I just want to be me.”

Who was she, anyway? At one time she thought she knew. She was a dreamer, an artist, a lover. Now…

Now she was just going through the motions. Sighing, she took one last slug from the champagne bottle and tossed it over the side of the house.

As the bottle left her hand, guilt immediately took hold. Good girls didn’t throw bottles of Cristal. Nor did they yell at the moon.

A giggle welled up in her throat, and she covered her mouth. She knew she would eventually have to marry boring Karl to appease her parents, but for tonight she’d pretend she was that hopeful teenager, and Zach was once again by her side.

Wait a minute.

Chloe frowned. No crash. If you throw a bottle of champagne over the edge of the house, you would expect it to crash when it hit the ground, right? She made her way over to the edge of the roof and peered down. It was so hard to see anything in the dark. Sinking to her hands and knees, she squinted into the darkness below.

There was movement, a shifting of shadow. Then…nothing.

“Who’s there?” And where’s my Cristal? She bent farther over the side of the house.

There it was again. Something was down there.

“Come out into the streetlight where I can see you.”

She counted to ten, or maybe it was three. It was hard to tell in her present state. Still nothing happened.

“I know someone is down there. Show yourself.”

The wind picked up, rustling the wind chimes on the front of the house. The unseasonably cool Texas night gave her a chill. She shivered and pulled the shawl her mother had made for her over her strapless blouse.

“Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

Chloe jumped up and whirled around. A large, muscular figure stood on the rooftop behind her, just a few feet away. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, and the bottom of his open trench coat lifted slightly in the breeze. Shadows fell over his face, masking his identity. He tilted his head to the side, as if to study her.

How did he get up here?

Her eyes shifted to the large tree, looming behind him. Okay, one question answered. Now for another one…

“Who are you?”

“I think a more relevant question is: why are you out here on Christmas Eve when your family is having dinner inside?” His low voice sounded gravelly, as if he had a cold or sore throat, yet it seemed strangely familiar. The stranger took a step closer to the tree and deeper into the shadows.

“How did you know…?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What I do up here is my business. You’re intruding.”

“You asked me to come up here.”

Chloe snorted and put her hands on her hips. “I did not.”

“You did. You said ‘show yourself.’”

Oh yeah, she did say that, didn’t she? “What are you doing out here? A late-night stroll?”

He chuckled. “You could say that.”

Chloe shifted her gaze down to the long, winding driveway below them. It led from the front steps, down around a sculpture her father had commissioned long ago, between two thin rows of trees, and stopped at the gate leading into the property.

Late-night stroll, her ass. Nobody got on or off this property unless it was approved. How did he get past the guards? “You must have gotten lost, then. This is private property, you know.”

He laughed again, a deep, rich laugh that sent tingles over her skin. “I see you haven’t changed much.”

So, he knew her. The voice sounded familiar, but with the man’s face in shadow, Chloe couldn’t tell his identity.

He didn’t mean her harm; she knew it instinctively. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he moved, that didn’t seem threatening. Then again, maybe it was just the Cristal that made her less wary. She closed her eyes in concentration. That voice… It was rough and sensual, like silk sheets against bare skin. So familiar…

“Do you know my father?”

“You could say that, yes.” His voice caressed her ears, making her heart flutter. “I knew your whole family, once.”

“Ha! I knew it.” This man worked for her father. He’d probably been over to the house numerous times. It explained why he was in the driveway, how he knew her, and why the voice sounded so familiar. “So does my father know you are up on the roof with me?” She opened her eyes.

Where did he go?

A light breeze blew over her, ruffling her blonde curls. She spun around in a circle. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“No, Chloe. No joke.” The stranger’s warm breath brushed against the back of her neck. She shivered as the faint mix of sandalwood and spice reached her nose.

She knew that smell. Chloe started to turn, but firm hands grabbed her shoulders and faced her forward again.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” the stranger whispered.

No, he wasn’t a stranger. He knew her. That voice… If she could just clear the fog of Cristal in her brain, she just knew she’d be able to identify him.

“Who are you…?”

*~*

Fingers with red nailBio: 

A lifetime New Englander, Suzanne married her college sweetheart and has been with him for over twenty years. Every summer she drags her husband and two daughters to Maine on a quest for the perfect lobster dinner. Every fall she can be found down in Foxboro, Massachusetts cheering on her favorite football team. In between those trips, she’s a chauffeur, a maid, a chef, an event planner, a hairdresser, a wardrobe stylist, a tutor and a sometimes masseuse. To keep her sanity, she often drinks copious amounts of coffee and stares at the blank screen of her laptop, dreaming of great adventures. Sometimes she even writes them down for others to enjoy.

Suzanne also writes mainstream romances under the pen name Ava Conway (www.AvaConway.com).

Website: www.SuzanneRock.com

Blog: Romance on a Budget: www.suzannerock.wordpress.com

Facebook: www.Facebook.com/SuzanneRockAuthor

Twitter: www.twitter.com/Suzanne_Rock

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/Suzanne_Rock

Writing Workshops: http://suzannerock.com/workshops/

Journey of the Magi by Barbara Edwards – FREE today!

JourneyOfTheMagi_6513_750| [amazon_link id=”B00ES5DZEQ” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] |

Widow Noel Martin never breaks promises, and she promised her kids they’d have Christmas at her childhood home in Connecticut. But driving across country takes money. Noel is broke when a snowstorm blows them into a tiny Minnesota café owned by a man who can change her mind. She accepts his offer of a job. Despite her attraction to him, she makes it clear she is only temporary help.

Dan Longstreet isn’t adopting any more strays, but he needs a waitress. Dan works so hard to make his café a success, he doesn’t have time for love. Though Noel’s slender blonde beauty stuns him and her two adorable children tug at his heart, he denies how they threaten to change his life.

When tragedy strikes, their new-found love is the first victim. Noel can’t stay and Dan can’t leave. Will their journey be the gift that reunites them?

Excerpt:

Even with her knit hat pulled down over her ears, her high cheekbones and the up­-tilted tip of her nose flamed as bright red as a cheap statue of a Christmas elf. She blinked in the bright light.

Dan’s pulse leaped like a startled deer. He knew everyone who frequented the Deer Run Lounge and Cafe. She was no local wife searching for an overdue husband or one of the three women who made a living, if you could call it that, picking up the lumberjacks and mill workers for an hour or two.

His blood heated but he managed to control his urges by slowly polishing a clean glass and setting it in the rack for the next day’s trade. Dan nodded hello.

Her over-sized man’s winter coat trailed to her ankles, but she visibly shook. He wanted to tell her to take off her coat and get warm. She removed her gloves, pulling the fingers off one by one until her white hands shone in the dim light. A pale circle around her ring finger marked the recent removal of a band.

She returned Dan’s stare. “Is that sign in the window still good? Do you need an experienced waitress?” Her flat, emotionless voice didn’t match the way her fingers twisted round and round her gloves. His palms itched to cover hers until she calmed.

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, his mouth dry. Something in him yearned for her to be more than a passing stranger.

*~*

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Saturday Spotlight: Mary Marvella

At this very moment I am sitting in a session at DragonCon, a sci-fi, fantasy, horror, paranormal fan conference in Atlanta, Georgia. Thousands of fans fill five hotels and over flow into the streets. Many of them look like their favorite movie, television, or comic book characters.    I will spend my day in the Writer’s Track where I can soak in more information about writing and selling.

I started writing seriously in 1991 after I left teaching. Since I am a storyteller who loves reading,  I decided to make my stories available to the reading public. Well, telling stories and writing them are 2 different things. New York publishers did not beg to buy my books. No agents insisted they represent me. Not one small press  pleaded with me for my book.

Being a stubborn person, I decided to do it myself.  I have self-published 2 novellas and 3 novels.   As of October I became an editor for a small publisher where I can say yes to books I love that other publishers didn’t feel were ready.  I can help authors polish those books and get them ready for the public to enjoy.

AND I finally contracted my first novel Protective Instincts. That story has been through so many edits and incarnations, I barely recognize it myself.  After years I managed to cut out the VERY purple prose and modernize it.

Protective_Instincts_Final_LARGE| [amazon_link id=”B00EGE93CC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] |

Blurb:

They met because he had premonitions and she was in peril. But you will never believe why they fell in love. Paranormal romance at its best.

After mourning the loss of her husband, Brit Roberts manages to pick up her life as a teacher for a rural Georgia High school. Things are fine until anonymous phone calls turn creepy and her life is endangered. It’s not until Sam Samuels, shows up to check on her that she finds a little peace, if not a slight attraction to the handsome yet meddling security specialist.

Sam Samuels isn’t just the father of one of Ms. Robert’s students, he’s a man with premonitions so strong, they make him ill. So when he meets his son’s teacher and pain kicks in, he knows something’s awry but can’t put his finger on it until he interrupts an attempt to rape and kill the teacher. 

Excerpt:

Sam rubbed his five o’clock stubble, then started on his second page of meticulous notes. His cramped handwriting made his eyes hurt. He shouldn’t have left his reading glasses in the truck.

Clicking heels on wood distracted him. The wearer sounded small but business-like, in a hurry. He glanced in the direction of the feminine sound. The lady wore navy hose and a navy skirt. He smiled and nodded at Ms. Roberts as she passed him on her way to the parking lot. “Good evening,” he said to her back as she barely slowed her exit, leaving a light floral scent to wrap around him.

Her impersonal nod toward him could have been meant for anyone.   “And a good evening to you, too,” he muttered to the closing door. Typical for her. She wasn’t the friendliest woman he’d ever met. Most women at least gave him a smile when he spoke to them.

Gut pain bent him almost double. He glanced around the deserted hall. Familiar pressure built in his head. A premonition attack was coming on. Why now? Why when his son’s teacher had passed by? He didn’t need an attack now. He hurried to the school parking lot to catch up with the cause of his discomfort. He’d finish his figures later.

Sam had figured he’d probably see Ms. Roberts here sometime before he left, but he hadn’t planned to do more than nod to her as he always did. She was attractive but standoffish. Sean had mentioned she was a widow. Maybe that was why she seldom smiled.

His mama’s training in the ways of a gentleman prodded him toward her and the old Mustang. He’d follow her tonight. He had no choice.  Maybe this premonitions was about car trouble. Probably. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d rescued someone from being stranded.

She whirled around to face him, annoyance in her expression. “Are you following me?” Sounded like an accusation.

“I’m Sean Samuels’ father.”

“I know, but why are you here at my car? Isn’t that your truck, over there?” She tilted her head toward his truck.

“Sean’s always talking about your Mustang, ’65?”

“’64 1/2.”

I had a ‘66 way back when.” He ran his hand along the back fender. “Restoring it?” He pointed to sanded areas.

Her raised eyebrow made him feel like he was intruding. Too damned bad, it couldn’t be helped. The hairs on the back of his neck were still at alert. “Does it run well?”

“Two-eighty-nine, high performance engine, four-barrel carburetor, automatic. I never drive above 85 mph.” Despite the way she seemed to parrot the response, a smile played on her lips.

Sam’s hands gravitated to his pockets as he resisted the urge to reach for her keys and unlock her door. Standing close enough to share body heat and inhale her subtle wild flower fragrance, he noticed she barely came up to his shoulder, even with her heels.

Pain lanced through Sam’s head. His physical manifestations were stronger. If only he could get an idea about the source of the danger. But then he’d have to work on using the pesky gift he hadn’t wanted, one he couldn’t ignore.

He couldn’t let her leave alone to face the unnamed threat. She’d think he’d lost his freakin’ mind if he told her he sensed she was in danger.

*~*

Mom_HS_Scan_R_4www.MaryMarvella.com

www.pinkfuzzyslipperwriters.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/mmbarfield  or Mary Marvella, Author