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Tuesday, July 22, 2014

@Shades_of_Rose Presents: Strangers On A Bus @RonManary #RomFantasy

Strangers on a Bus by Rob Manary

Genre: Romantic Comedy

If you liked When Harry Met Sally, you'll fall in love with Robb and Gertrude from Strangers on a Bus...

Robb is crushed by a failed relationship with the love of his life and finds himself unexpectedly on a long bus trip from his adopted home in the U.S. back to his native Canada.

At the first stop in NYC, a girl gets on and so begins a contemplation of life, love, and strange events that will bring tears of laughter and heartache streaming down your face.

Is this girl Robb's real true love or just a rebound? How far can they get on a bus ride anyway?

This is a true story.


The sun started to come up as we crossed into Canada, and Gertrude told me we wouldn’t be making out once it was daylight. Lip dancing on a brightly lit bus was too “tacky” for her, and besides her lessons were having a not entirely unpleasant side effect on her.

I find it best to try not to understand women at all. But, there is one phenomenon that causes me more confusion than any of the other baffling behavior women indulge in.

When you tell a woman something and she doesn’t believe you, so you tell her the opposite, and she doesn’t believe that either, I like that.

So, you tell her the first thing you said was, indeed, the truth, and she doesn’t want to believe that one either.


So am I. Here is the latest incarnation of this occurrence.

Gertrude: “All this kissing isn’t bothering you? You’ve got more restraint than any guy I’ve ever met. I thought you would have been trying to feel me up hours ago.”

Me: “Would it have worked?”

Gertrude: “Maybe, probably not. I think it’s nice. You’re a gentleman.”

Me: “Not really. Every time we stop I take care of that in the bathroom.”

Gertrude: “You’re such a pig! You washed your hands right! You’re so gross! You didn’t! Did you?”

Me: “I thought I was a gentleman! I lie! I lie! I lie! Of course I didn’t.”

Gertrude: “You’re such a pig! You did! Didn’t you? You’re so gross!”

Me: “Stop laughing at me if I’m so gross! I didn’t! I didn’t!”

Gertrude: “You did so! You’re such a pig!”

Me: “Okay. Fine. I did.”

Gertrude: “No you didn’t! You’re not that big a pig. Close. But no. You didn’t.”

Me: “I tell you I didn’t and you say I did. I tell you I did, and you say I didn’t. You’re such a weirdo.”

And then I kissed her, because the sun was rising quick, and because I couldn’t see another way to end that conversation. It is possible that debate could have gone on indefinitely, and there was no way I could prove conclusively what I had or had not done in a bus stop bathroom.

After what might be our last extended lip dancing lesson Gertrude whispered in my ear, “I was horny and wanted Dicky-bird…that is fun to say, so in the bathroom… I did.”

Buy Link: Amazon

~About the Author~

Robert Manary is an international playboy and man of mystery, with the charm and sophistication of James Bond shaken not stirred with a couple ounces of Cyrano de Bergerac, a dash of Rasputin, and garnished with the rapier wit of Thurston Howell the Third.

That’s how he sees himself, anyway.

The truth is Robert Manary is a construct created to protect the dubious reputation of his Clark Kent like mild mannered writer/puppeteer/the man pulling the levers and breathing life into the Great and Powerful Oz (don’t look too closely behind the curtain).

Robert Manary’s alter ego dropped out of Radio Broadcasting College to pursue a lucrative career bartending at a seedy gentlemen’s club, played around stocking shelves at a small grocery store until he screwed up badly enough to be given a promotion, and finally left the glamorous life of fighting with Parmalat representatives over the quantity of soy milk required for a small Northern Ontario town to function adequately, for the bright lights of New York.

Author Links: Site    Facebook   Twitter   YouTube 

Monday, July 21, 2014

Inspired by music…Bella Signorina #RomFantasy

Inspired by music…
(A look at where the story was born)

Back in 2006 a young Italian singer by the name of Patrizio Buanne had come onto the international music scene. He was an old style singer, with a powerful and seductive voice, rich in emotion and range. He was in his mid-twenties then, and had just recorded his second album, a collection called Forever Begins Tonight. It was on this CD that a particular song caught my imagination, with the story it told and the romanticism of the tale. Bella Bella Signorina was one of the most popular songs on this CD, and remains a fan favourite. For me, the more I listened to the song, the more certain I was that I wanted to write a story. I met Patrizio after concert in April of 2007, and by then the story had come into being in my mind. I asked for, and was given permission to use a few lines from the lyrics of the song as the framework for the story I wanted.

Later in the summer, I wrote the first draft of Bella Signorina and after getting the properly signed release from the copyright holder, it was submitted to a publisher. The decision was made the “tone down” the sensuality of the story and make it a sweetheart story, so any sexual overtone were removed, leaving the romantic fantasy to play out like a song. The book held the #1 best-seller spot for over six months, but went largely unnoticed, despite good reviews. I revised the story after the contract expired, and it was released again. This time it was largely unnoticed.

So, when I finally located the file of the original story and had the chance to read this story the way it was originally written, I thought this time it could be released as it was meant to be. Eirelander was willing to give the sexy, sensual version a home at last.

Exclusive excerpt:

             Stefano kept a close eye on the pretty dancer even as he walked to the small caffè. She was lovely, and he’d seen her many times, always enchanted by her presence, but never inclined to find out if the outward beauty was all there was to her. If she was another vain and brainless girl, he didn’t want his illusion shattered. The romanticism of the thought made him smile. He wasn’t as jaded as he pretended to be if he was still protecting his heart with illusions.
             Less than fifteen minutes after he’d left her, he rejoined her and handed her a steaming cup of coffee.
             “It’s so different here at night,” Bianca noted, her eyes scanning the area. In a matter of hours, thousands of people would begin their daily movements, passing over the steps, not noticing anything but the need to be wherever they were headed. “There’s peace here now.”
             “Is that why you dance, to find peace?”
             She sipped her coffee and considered an answer. When it came, it surprised him.
             “The music is freedom, and the motion is passion. Sometimes the only passion that matters.”
             “All passion matters, bella,” he commented. “It’s what gives us life.”
             “Or burns it out of us.”
             He turned on the steps, faced her fully. Then he touched her chin and made her look at him.
             “Who abused your love so fully that you can believe that?”
             “People destroy each other for love,” she replied after a lengthy pause.
             Stefano shook his head. “Love is the only gift there is worth having, Signorina. It’s what men live and die for.”
             “Who are you, Signor?”
             He was startled again, twice in less than five minutes.
             “Would you like to walk?”
             She laughed in the growing darkness, and Stefano felt it ripple the length of his spine, as though cool, flawless silk had glided over him.
             “Where are we to go, Stefano?”
             “I think you’ll like the place,” he observed, with a hint of irony texturing the subtle undertone of his voice.
             She eyed him for a few timeless moments, then nodded and rose.
             He smiled when she offered her hand, and he curled his fingers around hers in a loose, but firm grip.
             “So, is there a wife hidden somewhere?”
             He laughed. “No. What about you? A husband who will come looking for me before dawn?”
             She shook her head and sipped her coffee. “How does a man with so much passion not have the woman of his dreams in his arms every night?”
             “I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out. “Why are you alone?”
             Her laughter washed over him again and she stopped walking to look up at him. “No one I’ve met has inspired the things I need to feel.” She shrugged. "I've been too honest with too many, and it scares them away."
             For a moment he said nothing, weighing her surprising confession. “What do you need?”
             “To be respected for who I am, what makes me unique.” She tilted her head to one side and held his level gaze. “I need to be given all the things I’m expected to provide, and that seems to be something quite beyond many men. Real men, who understand the value of a smart woman, also see that her beauty is in her wisdom, and her spirit.”
             “And her ability to be all things without effort, because she is all things naturally,” he concluded, genuinely pleased at the startled flicker of surprise his words lit in her eyes. “We’re here,” he announced, indicating the building they’d reached.
             She looked up, and her smile was radiant in the soft glow of the nearby streetlight. “La Galleria d'arte di Idillio,” she murmured. “I love this place.”
             “It’s mine,” he told her as he dug out the key that would unlock the doors to the small gallery.
             There was enough real shock in her voice to make him stop as he held the door for her to go inside. “Why does that surprise you so much?”
             “I’ve come here a number of times, and I’ve never seen you,” she replied, once he’d locked the doors and turned on the lights.
             “I’ve never seen you,” he noted. “Except at the caffè.”
             “I’ve always felt this place was a tribute to love, and romance.”
             “It is. My father began the collection for my mother.”
             “Your father was a romantic?”
             “My father was a gentleman, in the truest sense of that word,” Stefano said with a familiar sense of loneliness and pride combined. “He lived la dolce vita,” he smiled, “with the passion of a man who loved all life had to offer him, good and bad.”
             “He’s gone?”
             A curt nod was all he could offer without revealing how deeply the loss still affected him. He set his coffee on the reception desk, hung his jacket on a rack then did the same with Bianca’s things. Then he took her arm and led her to a small area that had been his work for the past year.
             “This is my latest addition to the collection.”
             Bianca wandered the area, studying the beautiful collection of photographs. Each one was in a different area of Italy, and the women smiling and lovely, but each one as unique as her surroundings.
             “What do you see?”
             “Beauty. Romance.” Bianca stared at the photographs for a few moments longer, considering them with serious thought, then turned to face him. “In every photograph, they are not looking at you, but at the camera. They’re seeing the opportunity, but not your reason for wanting them.”
             Something fluttered against Stefano’s chest from the inside, an excitement he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He let his gaze drift, cataloguing the woman in front of him. Standing next to him the top her head was at his chin. She had long, waving hair, dark brown with a distinct tint that caught the glow from the lights and turned her thick mane into a mass of warm, burnished auburn. She had eyes that resembled Chinese jade, and a wide, full mouth that curved upward, as though a secret hid behind her smile. She was curvaceous and feminine, effortlessly graceful, and with minimal makeup, appeared very much without artifice of any kind.
             “What is my reason for wanting them?” He forced his tone to calm and curious, sincerely interested in her reply, but also caught in the spell she was exerting. Part of his mind was still watching her, measuring the emotion and internal workings of her mind as she analyzed his photographs with real interest. Her teal-colored dress was simple in design, flared skirt unevenly cut at the hem, swirling around her shapely legs as she walked, pausing often to peer intently at the images on the walls. The upper half of the dress clung to luscious contours, and the silver crucifix, her only jewelry, drew his eyes to the shadow between her breasts. He wanted very much to touch her, and instead stuffed his hands into his pockets and went to join her as she stopped at one of the last photos, then looked at him over her shoulder.
             “She loved you.”
             “So she said.”
             “You didn’t love her?”
             “Not the way she thought I should.”
             “You wanted love from every woman here, yet not one of them saw who you really are,” she observed softly, sadness evident in her tone.
             His eyebrow rose. “Who do you think I am, bella?”
             “How honest do you think I should be?”
             “I admire honesty, Signorina,” he told her. “I respect the courage it takes to offer it to anyone.”
             “But do you respect it if the object of discussion is you?”
             “Now you’re beginning to worry me,” he teased with a smile. He was fascinated by her intelligence and her insight. She looked past his appearance and his presence to probe his secrets, and whatever she was seeing made her even more alluring to him.
Want to know more? The dance is only beginning for Bianca and Stefano, drop by Eirelander Publishing and indulge the fantasy more…

Friday, July 18, 2014

NEW from Kinsey Knight: Elemental Earth @KaydenMcLeod #RomFantasy

Elemental Earth
Kinsey Knight
Young Adult Fantasy
Pages: 262

Website | Buy-Link | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter

My name is Trinity Liathain, typical human teenager to many. But reality is I’m a young fae, split between two very different worlds. Just as I find a guy who I can be myself with, my little corner of Blue Cove erupts in drama I’m not prepared for. The gauntlet to a war that shouldn’t be mine is at my door, bringing creatures that terrify and mesmerize me. I’m visited by ancient forces who for some reason, think I’m the answer to another dimension’s problems. They grant me tremendous power to protect myself. From what, you ask? If my short journey through life has taught me anything, it’s that the people closest to you, make the worst enemies.

         A tarantula the size of a football crawled over my book, clear liquid dripping from its oversized fangs. Where the venom touched, chunks of my book disintegrated.
         The chair careened behind me as I jumped to my feet. Adrian’s growl shook the windows, the only warning of my stupid mistake. He reached for me too late. Mr. Conevetti’s stick arm shot around my waist and dragged me over the desk.
         “You can’t ssstop me.” His mechanical screech resonated through my eardrums. “He wantsss her.”
         I choked back a scream as he gave up his glamour, revealing a horrific face caught between an alien and an ant. I flailed, punching him in the neck, shoulder—anything my fist blindly reached. His rock hard exoskeleton prevented his injury. Cuts broke out over my knuckles.
         “Put her down,” Adrian snapped, every pound the goblin royal.
         “Trinity…” My name coming from those pincers serving for a mouth was the single most horrible thing I’d ever heard. He hissed at Adrian, who circled us.
         I was not, nor ever would I be a damsel in distress, waiting for her prince to save her. Not in this lifetime, or the next. I sought any kink in his armor. I elbowed the bug man in the face, gritting my teeth as his pincers sliced into my flesh.
         He released me with a surprised squeal. I landed wrong on my feet. My knees ached, but I ran. My momentum propelled me toward the terminals. I jumped, my foot landing on the chair. I was airborne, flying over the grotesque spider and the computers, thrashing awkwardly on my descent. The back of my head slammed against the opposite terminal, changing my trajectory.  I hit the floor, twisting my ankle. The shock of pain on top of everything else forced a gasp from me.
         The spider dropped, scuttling across the floor.
         “You all right?” Adrian yelled. Under the row of desks, only legs were visible—a pair of jean-clad ending in thick biker boots, and two sticks in loafers.
         “I’m good!” I lied through my teeth.
         The spider scurried closer. I ripped a keyboard out of its USB port, wielding it as a weapon. The thing paused.
         “Come on. I don’t have all day.”
         It jerked as if it understood. It crept around me, I suppose seeking a weak spot. It lunged, and I swung. I hit the rounded, furry body across the room like a baseball. It hit the window with a sickening thump and didn’t move again. The acidic poison from its fangs ate through the glass in a watery line. The rancid smell intensified.
         I peeked over the walls of the desk. Adrian darted and weaved, the skill of a fighter shocking me. Sure, every now and then a guy might scrap, but this was taking it to another level. Mr. Conevetti wasn’t fast enough for him.
         They danced around each other in a primal, masculine array. Adrian bared his teeth. “Trinity, for the love of the Goddess, run!”
         Sounded like a good plan to me. But I couldn’t leave Adrian. Not with a psychotic bug fae. I tried to stand and almost toppled. My ankle throbbed. I felt my heartbeat in my temple from where I’d slammed my head. The pain twisted my stomach and sent bile up my throat.
         “Yousss will die in pain, goblin. Yousss fear death, and me most of all.”
         Adrian laughed. “I don’t think so, cursed one. I came into this world kicking, screaming, and covered in someone else’s blood. I have no problem going out the same way.”
         Using the desks, I hobbled through the row, desperately grasping at anything I could reach as the blood dripped down my arm. With every successful step, I breathed through a little bit more agony. I’d adapt.
         At the end of the row, I flailed for a weapon, anything at all. A keyboard wasn’t effective enough. The blue supply closet door was a gaping neon sign against the monotony of the white walls.
         Every second that passed, the nearer I got, the smell became more repugnant.
         My hand rested on the doorknob. What lay behind door number one? Did I open it? Wasn’t the wrestling behind me enough problems for one detention? I snarled, gripped the door handle, and pulled.
         I reeled back as the door was thrown open against my will. I was tossed back, crying out when a jab of agony convulsed throughout my calf. I blinked. Lying on the ground with a milky blank stare, skin tinged grey and bloated, was the real Mr. Conevetti.

Author Bio:

Kinsey Knight is a fantasy young adult author, who dreams big, and writes bigger. She gets her inspirations from all manners of life and events that surround her. As she embarks into the new world of Maeryn, she will explore the realm of the fae, as her characters drag her through a journey that will not be soon forgotten.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Meet an Award-winning Wolfshifter in Cursed Awakening @nikkitrueblue #RomFantasy

by Nikki Noffsinger

Available at:

An ancient evil has returned and betrayal is everywhere. In the midst of all hell breaking loose, two hearts-one wild and the other one still wounded will stand before hell itself to fight for what's right and for a love forged from a Cursed Awakening.

Ivy Morgan has re-invented herself and is looking forward to the future for the first time, in a very long time. Since fleeing for her life from an overzealous religious cult, she is able to be a modern woman that is gaining her independence; so taking up with a sexy stranger named Nyx is the last thing she needs. Or, is it?

Nyx Wahpeton can’t stop thinking about the young woman he’s met. It couldn’t have come at the worse possible time with the clans meeting and his family wrapped up in a centuries old war that’s nothing short of what horror movies are made from. He’s been a protector of his people and those that reside at the Reservation. There’s betrayal and evil at his front door; but, in his heart he knows Ivy is the one for him. She’s surrounded by secrets that he’s vowed to unlock, as well as her heart. However, can he keep her safe from his own secrets?


Ivy hadn’t even noticed him until Trudy, one of the waitresses told her he was there. Ivy’s heart soared. He had been on her mind so much it had been hard to concentrate. She turned around after filling her serving tray up with five pieces of pie and one chocolate fudge sundae for table nineteen, to see him sitting there with a sly grin on his face. He took her breath away

His hair fell in waves past his shoulders, those brilliant blue eyes were enough to stop a heart dead in its tracks. He was dressed in a long sleeved American Eagle Outfitters shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. Nyx winked at her, and she winked back before she headed off to table nineteen. Nyx scanned the restaurant and probed out with his senses. Everything was on the up and up. Grady, the manager came through the kitchen into the restaurant in order to flip the “We’re Open” sign off. The man looked exhausted. He looked at Nyx, “Hey how ya doin’ Nyx?” he asked. 

“I’m fine. You look like you’ve been busy today.” Nyx greeted. 

“Busy…busy doesn’t even come close. Usually I wouldn’t argue with good business, but I’m not as young as I used to be.” Mr. Grady sighed. 

“Ah, you’re not old Grady. You’re the same age as my old man and he hasn’t keeled over yet.” Nyx mused but in truth, while his dad looked middle-age he was well over one-hundred years old. 

Mr. Grady smiled and went back to the kitchen. Ivy came over and slumped into the seat beside Nyx. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“You might not want to get too close…I’m sure I stink! I’ve been busier than a one legged man in a butt kicking contest and seriously I think I’m the one that’s been getting kicked!” she joked.

Nyx laughed and then whispered in her ear, “Ivy, I could think of a lot better things to do with your ‘butt’ as you put it except you’d have to be naked first.” She blushed.

“You are bad! Very, very, very bad!” she mock chided.

“You don’t know how bad I can get where you’re concerned! I am thinking of going for wicked!” his voice was sinfully delicious, sending tremors through Ivy’s body.

“Ivy, table seven needs you, they’re ready for their check!” Alisha called out.

Ivy rose and gave Nyx a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to table seven. At ten o’clock Ivy finally clocked out, turning in her apron and pad. She came through the kitchen doors where Nyx was standing waiting for her with a devilish look on his face. She said good-bye to Alisha who had volunteered to help Bill with the kitchen clean-up.

“So are you off?” Nyx asked.

“Yeah and I am off all day tomorrow too! Thank God because I don’t think I could lift anymore feeding troughs.” She laughed.

“Give me your keys! I’ll drive.” Nyx offered.

Ivy fumbled in her Hello Kitty knapsack, pulled out her keys and dropped them in his waiting hand. Nyx put an arm around her, pulling her close as they walked out the door and into the parking lot. They headed over to Lorna’s cherry red 1970 Chevelle SS. Nyx’s jaw went slack as Ivy noted the definite interest he had for cars. “It’s just a car Nyx!” she teased.

“That is not a car, Ivy! Damn, that is a thing of beauty!” he retorted.

“Ah well it’s just a car to me! An engine with four wheels that gets me from point A to point B.” She mused.

Nyx walked her to the passenger side door, helped her in and then slid in the driver’s seat. The man actually looked as if he had just walked into Disney World or something. “Ivy…it’s more than just an engine and wheels! You just watch, baby. Let me tutor you on just how spectacular this car is!”

Ivy rolled her eyes and pulled the seat belt into position. Nyx started the car and burned rubber out of town onto the country roads. When they finally stopped it was just outside of town at Piedmont Lake. He parked between two trees and got out. He strolled over to Ivy’s door, opened it and offered her his hand.

“Wh-What are we doing here?” she asked.

Nyx didn’t say anything as he stood and pulled off his shirt. He walked over toward Ivy and kissed her as he started to unbutton her white shirt. She frantically put her hands on his and pulled back, “Nyx! What are you doing?”

“Well actually I’m un-doing! Come on, it’s a warm night and a swim would do you some good!” he answered.

“Nyx!” she protested

“Ivy!” he answered trying to mimic her voice.

She giggled but still was adamant about not getting naked in public.

He stepped back and then started to unbutton his pants. Ivy felt her whole body turn into molten liquid Nyx never missed a beat though; he just kept undressing until he was completely naked. He stalked over towards her and she took a few steps backward. “Nyx…what are you doing?” she asked cautiously.

“Well since you won’t take your clothes off, I guess I’ll just have to toss you over my shoulder and throw you in clothes and all!” He kept coming closer.

“You wouldn’t dare! Nyx… I can’t swim!” she screeched as she headed to the other side of the car.

“That’s okay Ivy; I don’t plan on letting you do any swimming! I promise, I won’t let you drown. I’m a good swimmer! I’m good in the water period!”

He tracked her like a predator. He was slow and calculated. Ivy tried to watch his every movement. “Nyx…okay give me a minute to get my clothes off!” she finally relented.

She took her shirt off and then her pants, socks, and shoes. She left her bra and panties on.

“Nah, you’re still overdressed Ivy!” he said with his arms folded over his chest.

“Well toooo damn bad! When we get caught out here, I don’t want to be naked as babe when we’re arrested!” She said still keeping a fair sized amount of space between them.

He smiled and crouched down as if he were getting ready to spring. Ivy screeched and took off running. Before she knew it, he had her up in his arms and they were laughing. When he started walking into the water, she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly and let out a fairly good yell when the cold water hit her skin. Nyx stood her up seeing as they were in a shallow part where the water came up to her shoulders.

He went underneath the water and nipped her thigh before resurfacing. Ivy splashed at him when he came up. The water running rivets down his sculpted body in the moonlight was really something to behold. Not even a Calvin Klein or GQ could pull off something like this. Nyx took a step towards her, pulling her up against him. He laid back and swam as he held onto her. Nyx tried to teach her the basics of swimming but Ivy was far too interested in holding on for dear life. She wasn’t afraid of water but rather afraid of drowning.

“Ivy, relax! You’re not going to drown.” Nyx said as she flicked some water his way.

For an hour or so they played in the water like two children. When Nyx noticed she was shivering with cold he picked her up and carried her up to shore. Ivy popped Lorna’s trunk where there were two blankets that she kept on hand for emergencies next to the first aid kit and roadside emergency box.

Let it never be said that Lorna was one to ever be caught unprepared. Ivy tossed a blanket at Nyx who caught it and dried off. He walked over to Ivy and wrapped her in the pale yellow blanket. He would much rather have her lying down on it, but it was getting late and sooner or later the local law would be making their rounds.

For now, time was standing still, barely moving as in each other’s arms. 

Visit Nikki:

Monday, July 14, 2014

A chat with @ElleJamesAuthor, and a look at her new release! #RomFantasy

Today, we have the privilege of chatting with the awesome Elle James, and she's going to share a peek at her new release: SECRET SERVICE RESCUE!

Has writing been something you always did, or was it a discovered talent that came to you at a later point? 

As a child, teenager and young adult, I dabbled. I wrote short stories in grade school, maudlin poetry in high school and spoof plays in the work force. The one constant in all this was that I was an avid reader. It wasn't until I turned 40 that my sister and I challenged each other to write a romance novel. One thing led to another and here we are today, both multi-published authors!

Do you remember how it felt when you were offered that first contract? What emotions stand out in your memory? 

I was at work as an IT professional, just got back from a heavy Mexican food lunch with a full tummy. I was pulling into the parking lot and got the call from the editor that she wanted to buy my book. I think it was toss-up between hyperventilating and throwing up. Needless to say, I was worthless at work for the rest of the afternoon!

Is this a first book, part of a series, or the latest in a long line of many? 

SECRET SERVICE RESCUE is the 4th book in the Adair Legacy series. These are the books in the series:

Her Secret, His Duty by Carla Cassidy
Executive Protection by Jennifer Morey
Special Ops Rendezvous by Karen Anders
Secret Service Rescue by Elle James

What is the oddest thing that’s happened to you since you chose to become a professional writer? Will it ever make it into a book, or is that a secret? 

Receiving a rejection letter from an editor 3 years after submitting the proposal and with it was a copy of someone else's work attached. I might have to write it into a book about a down-and-out author. 

Do you have your next book underway, or other titles in the planning stages? 

Do I? Oy! I'm working on SEAL'S OBSESSION a novella that will be part of my TAKE NO PRISONERS Series. Then I'm on to write the next in my COVERT COWBOYS series. I have at least 8 more Harlequin books to write between now and the end of next year and I have more SEALs to write and I also write as Myla Jackson so I'll be writing some more books in my HEARTS AND HEROES series. I can barely keep up with all the work I have lined up!

Do you have a favourite genre and why? Is it one you write in, read in, or both? 

Wow, not really. I love all of them. I've written suspense, mystery, contemporary, paranormal, really sexy and a time travel historical. I'd like to write more historical and some Young Adult and New Adult genres. 

What, to you, is the most exciting part of the writing process? Does it change from book to book or remain the same? 

Brainstorming with my sister is the best part of writing. The ideas are fresh, evolving and fun! I always love the brainstorming part.

If you could co-author a book with anyone, who would you choose and why? What kind of book do you think would come from the collaboration? 

I already have! My sister Delilah Devlin and I have coauthored several books, some of which we have yet to release. We started our writing together and learned the process by co-authoring. We have such a synergistic vibe when we get together. It's fun! (Comment: I've had the pleasure of reading some of Delilah's work, too - and she is wonderful!)

Where can readers find you on the web? 

Thanks so much for being my guest.

The Adair Legacy Book#4

Secret Service Rescue
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
July 2014


The Adair legacy concludes with a shocking revelation… 

Kidnapped and held captive for weeks, Shelby O'Hara is grateful to be rescued by handsome secret service agent Daniel Henderson. But the rebellious beauty balks at his 24/7 protection until she learns the shocking secret of why she was abducted: she's the granddaughter of the former U.S. vice president, a woman with lethal opponents in a deadly political game. 

To elude those enemies, Daniel and Shelby go on the run, although they are constantly at each other's throats…until the fighting stops with a torrid kiss. Suddenly, Shelby doesn't feel so safe. From the bad guys, maybe, but from Daniel? He's a clear and present danger to her heart!


Copyright 2014 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited

Chapter 1

Daniel Henderson stood with his hand on the butt of the HK40 pistol resting in the shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket, his gaze locked on the man standing in the middle of the room.

“I repeat, your granddaughter has been missing for two weeks,” Patrick O’Hara insisted, worry lines etched deep into his weathered face. “I’ve pursued all other options. I’ve filed a missing persons report, but the police have no leads. I’m at my wit’s end. That’s why I came to you.”

“What do you mean, I have a granddaughter?” Former Vice President Kate Winston stood straight, her shoulders squared, her lips tight. The only indication that the man in front of her had disturbed her normal calm was how pale her face had become. She glanced around the room at her three sons, Trey, Thaddeus and Samuel. “Is there something you three haven’t told me?”

The three men shook their heads as one.

O’Hara, who’d made the shocking statement, shook his head. “Not the child of one of your sons, the child of your daughter. Our daughter.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Trey, the oldest son, demanded.

Patrick O’Hara’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should ask your mother.”

Kate closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her chest.

“You’re upsetting her.” Thad slipped an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Perhaps you should leave, before we have you escorted out.”

“No.” O’Hara stood firm, his gaze locked on Kate. “I need help finding my granddaughter and you are my last hope. Unless you’re going to throw her away like you did our daughter.”

Samuel lunged forward. “Get the hell out.”

Kate’s arm shot out. “No, wait. Let him speak.”

Patrick glanced from Trey to Samuel and back to Kate. “Shelby was at the university library Tuesday night two weeks ago, working on some research paper for her graduate program. She said she’d be home by midnight. At two in the morning, I closed the bar and went home. She wasn’t there. Her car wasn’t parked out front. I got worried and drove all the way into Beth City, to the university. I found her car in the library parking lot, but not Shelby.” He scrubbed a hand down his haggard face. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Daniel’s heartstrings were tugged by the desperation in the man’s tone and eyes. Two weeks might as well be forever. A woman missing for that long had little chance of being alive.

“How old is she?” Kate pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“Twenty-three. She’s never late for anything.” Patrick stepped forward.

Daniel walked between Patrick and Kate, holding his gun out. “That’s far enough.”

Patrick’s glance shifted to Daniel. “I just wanted to show her the picture of Shelby.” He looked back at Kate. “She looks just like her mother. And Carrie looked just like you. Brown hair, bright blue eyes.” He smiled, then the smile quickly faded. “We have to find her. She’s all I have.”

Daniel took the photo from the man’s hands and held it out to Kate.

Trey intercepted it. “The man is crazy. You’re not really going to help him, are you? He’s preying on your weakness—” Trey shot a glance at the picture, his eyes widening. “Damn.”

Kate held out her hand. “Give me the photo.”

Trey handed it across. “It has to be a forgery. You can do almost anything with computer graphics these days.”

Patrick’s lips turned up. “She’s her mother’s daughter.”

Kate stared at the picture for a long time, tears welling in her eyes. “This could be me as a young woman.” She stared across at him. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? You gave up your daughter. I raised Carrie, and she had a daughter, Shelby. Whom I also raised.” He jabbed a finger at the photo. “Shelby Raye O’Hara. A beautiful, smart young lady with a full life ahead of her. If I can find her before something awful happens to her.” He swallowed hard. “If it hasn’t already.”

If she had been missing for two weeks, Daniel predicted bad things had, indeed, happened to the girl. And nothing anyone could do would bring her back.

“I didn’t give up my daughter. She died,” Kate whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She lifted her head, her chin trembling.

“Is that what you told yourself?” Patrick laughed, the sound completely without humor. He stepped closer. “I don’t care if lying to yourself helped you throw away your own flesh and blood. I can’t believe I ever loved you. You’re selfish, heartless and deserved the man you married.”

Daniel laid a hand on the man’s chest. “Back off.”

Patrick stared at Daniel as if it was the first time he’d seen him and his gun. “Kate, I don’t give a damn about you or your high-society family. What I do care about is getting my granddaughter back. Alive. If you have any sense of decency, you’ll help. She’s your family, too.”

“Mother,” Sam said. “Say the word and I’ll throw him out.”

Daniel braced himself for a fight with Patrick O’Hara. He didn’t want to use his gun, it would leave a big mess in the Winston’s house. And as far as he could tell, O’Hara wasn’t armed.

“No.” Kate shook her head. “If someone thinks Shelby O’Hara is related to me in any way, she’s in danger.”

The Adair Legacy Book#4
Secret Service Rescue
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
July 2014

Amazon | Nook | Kobo

Monday, June 30, 2014

The Rules of Writing #RomFantasy

Write what you know. Write every day. Write for yourself. Change this. Learn that… Then do it all over again. A few times. This is the glamorous world of writing at its’ core. All the learning is on-going. It never really lets up if you are a writer who respects and understands craft–and yes, despite the shoddy way it is often treated, writing IS considered to be a craft, or an art.

There are endless ways to address writing, some that give it an air of mystery, or glamorize what is often a very lonely and personal process for most of us. You’ll see phrases like “show, don’t tell” a lot. References made to a writer’s “voice” – like it’s something Divine or magical. Some banter about monikers like “natural writer” because the stories come as easily as drawing breath – while others struggle to dredge up one solid idea that can be hammered into a story plot.

But, what does any of it really mean? I have collected about a thousand dollars worth of writing guides over the past two years – 50/50 split between paper and eBooks. A few nights ago I forced myself NOT to buy yet another guide, despite the high recommendation it was given. Why? Well, I’ve come to the sad but real conclusion that all this study has not only slowed my writing process, it’s pretty much strangled my voice and joy of creating stories. It’s ironic in one sense because years ago I used to get asked a lot if I had studied creative writing, or gone to school to learn to write. No on both counts – I told many people that sitting in on one “writing course” class was all it took to convince me that being told how to construct sentences and what “rules” should always be observed was the quickest way to silence the stories before they ever stirred to life.

Good editors and writers all know that the only honest and real rule is there are no rules so etched in stone that they can’t be broken or ignored entirely. Writing is like the flow of a river, shifting, rushing, always moving forward to a destination. Rules are like dams – they slow the progress, but they can’t really stop the inevitable burst that will open the floodgates, figuratively speaking, of course.

I like good editors, they teach and draw out your inner visions, sometimes showing you things you didn’t see yourself in the rush of white-water rafting that was your first draft creation. LISTEN to those editors, they care about your story. There’s more to editing than typos, grammar, and rearranging words. Editors who chop out blocks of your text, and expect to be the final word on your story are honestly full of shit for the most part and should be avoided. The story is yours – work with a builder, not a wrecking ball.

Tons of advice out there. You can read and learn forever – which means you’ll never write that book. If you don’t draw the line and just do the writing, you can’t really call yourself a writer. Writer-in-waiting maybe, but you’re the only one who’ll know that.

So, break a few rules, make a few rules, bend a few rules. Do whatever works for you. Don’t write what you know, write what you feel – what pushes and inspires you. Toss your baby out of the nest and into the world. Then – start all over again! That’s the only way to do this gig.

Good luck, and happy writing!!

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Celebrating Summer with a wonderful CONTEST! @LadyBPublishing

Who is ready for a contest? In honour of both Canada Day and the 4th of July, LadyBee Publishing is holding it's first big contest with fabulous prizes. The prizes centre around the Alex and the Wolpertinger series. The first prize is a crystal LadyBee necklace.

The second place prize is a LadyBee one hour timer. The third place, 4th and 5th place prizes are these very cool bookmarks. They not only mark your page, but the line you are reading.

The contest rules are simple. Answer these 5 questions correctly, and your name will be entered. All the answers can be found in the Alex and the Wolpertinger- The Monster Inn, and Alex and the Wolpertinger- The Downhills

1)- Who is Boohoo?
2)-What is Polar Pots and how did Alex first meet him?
3)-How did Spark become an Ice Prince?
4)-What were the directions given to Alex and Ludo, on how to find Fabulous?
5)-What happened to Spark, when he left the Downhills and followed Alex back to the land of humans?

Send your answers to

One entry per person, and must be of legal age. LadyBee Publishing employees, past and present are not eligible for entry.

Winners will be announced on July 16/14 

Wondering where you can find these wonderful books? Of course you are!! Check them out here:

Available Now at: OmniLit  |  Amazon  |  Smashwords

Alex and his friends, Shabby Tabby Chum and Ludo the wolpertinger are on a mission to save the magician Halo. Halo is being held prisoner by Prince Ruff Rumble. The giant prince wants the magician to make gold for him. The prince doesn't know that, and Alex's real mission is to find a magician that can help Halo and get him set free.

~ Illustrated book.

Alex and his friends, Shabby Tabby Chum and Ludo the wolpertinger are on a mission to save the magician Halo. Halo is being held prisoner by Prince Ruff Rumble. The giant prince wants the magician to make gold for him. Halo's magic books are now unreadable after falling into the lake but he couldn't have made the gold even if his books hadn't gotten wet. The prince doesn't know that, and Alex's real mission is to find a magician that can help Halo and get him set free.

Available Now at: OmniLit  |  Amazon  |  Smashwords

Alex and his friends, Shabby Tabby Chum and Ludo the wolpertinger are on a mission to save the magician Halo. Halo is being held prisoner by Prince Ruff Rumble. The giant prince wants the magician to make gold for him. The prince doesn't know that, and Alex's real mission is to find a magician that can help Halo and get him set free.

~ Illustrated book.

Alex and his friends, Shabby Tabby Chum and Ludo the wolpertinger are on a mission to save the magician Halo. Halo is being held prisoner by Prince Ruff Rumble. The giant prince wants the magician to make gold for him. Halo's magic books are now unreadable after falling into the lake but he couldn't have made the gold even if his books hadn't gotten wet. The prince doesn't know that, and Alex's real mission is to find a magician that can help Halo and get him set free.

LadyBee Publishing