Hello and Happy All Hallow's Eve to you! Please join me in welcoming author Margery Scott to the blog today! Margery, the stage is yours ~

Happy Halloween!

Are you taking the little ones trick-or-treating tonight? Or are you the candy-hander-outer? I live in the country, so there won’t be any ghouls or ghosts or superheroes at my door. It’ll be just another night.

Which makes me think about Brae and Jennie, the hero and heroine of HER ROCKYMOUNTAIN GUARDIAN.

When I’m plotting a book, I have a character profile I work on for each of the main characters. I fill in the information until I know them better than I know some of my real-life friends. But one question I don’t have on my character profile is whether they have gone trick-or-treating as children?

In both Brae and Jennie’s case, the answer is no.
Brae lived on a ranch, the closest neighbor more than a mile away. Not that his father would have allowed him to go trick-or-treating anyway. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, being a judge’s son. He had standards to maintain, and allowing his children to lower themselves to begging for candy just wasn’t acceptable.

Jennie, on the other hand, lived in town. Her house lay in darkness, and she sat on the window seat in her bedroom, tears filling her eyes as she watched the other costumed kids laughing and racing from house to house. There was no costume for her, no home-made goodies to give out. Why? Her mother was passed out on the sofa in the living room, oblivious to the occasion.

When I was young, I didn’t trick-or-treat either, but only because we didn’t have Halloween in Scotland. We did have Guy Fawkes Day in early November, though, and we made up for it.

What about you? Did you go trick-or-treating? What was your favorite costume? Your favorite treat?


An unforgivable disappearance…

Four years ago, Jennie Brooks and Sheriff Brae Colton were engaged to be married—then Jennie disappeared without a word.

Leads to a mysterious reunion…
Brae hated Jennie for deserting him just as they were set to begin their life together. But when he finds her badly injured in a hit and run accident on a snowy mountain road, he can’t deny the love he’s never forgotten—until she regains consciousness with no memory of her identity, or what they once shared.

Where love holds the key to everything…

Brae wants to know why Jennie’s come home. Despite everything, she’s still the woman he fell in love with in high school—the woman he’s falling for again. But when the bullets start flying, his first priority is to protect her and catch her would-be killer. And if they can’t find a way to restore her memory soon, they may both end up dead.


Jennie gazed out the passenger window as Brae steered the SUV through downtown Eagle Ridge. Ever since they’d left the hospital, he’d been tense, his eyes constantly shifting and taking in the vehicles around them.

“Do you think we’re being followed?” she asked finally.

“Probably not, but I don’t want any surprises.”

She stayed silent then, letting him concentrate. A lock of hair hung over his forehead, and she had an almost irresistible urge to brush it back. The muscles in his face were tense, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Those lips… Her thoughts strayed back to the kiss they’d shared in her hospital room.

Obviously they’d kissed before, and more than likely they’d done a lot more than kiss. She didn’t remember those kisses, though. His kiss from a half hour earlier, she’d never forget. Something about the way he held her, the way his mouth slanted over hers, the heat pooling in her belly when his tongue had touched hers…it felt so familiar, so right.

“You look like you’re thinking hard,” he said, his baritone voice filling the interior of the car.

She felt her cheeks heat. If he only knew where her thoughts had taken her.

“Remembering something?”

Oh, yes. She remembered every detail of the kiss they’d just shared. Although she would like to know whether the memories of his kisses back then were as exciting and breath-stealing as the reality of the one they’d just shared. She doubted that was what he was asking, though.


As a little girl in Scotland, I loved reading the words in books, and using those words even when I had no idea what they meant. My favorites were consecrate (my version of concentrate), and puncture (meaning temperature).Within the pages of those books, I lost myself in the fantasy worlds the authors created. But I had no idea that someone – a real, live person – was writing the stories that enthralled me. And it never occurred to me that I could write stories, too.

When my family left Scotland and settled in Canada, I began to write – not stories, but long, rambling letters to my grandparents. Looking back, they were really mini-novels, filled with my adventures and tales of growing up in a new country. In school, I loathed English class. So what was I destined to be? Yes, you guessed it. A writer.

It wasn’t until my children left home, that I started writing and seriously pursuing a new career as a published author. These days, I’m lucky enough to be able to combine my love of travel (thanks to my father’s wanderlust) and writing by personally researching the settings in my books.

Now, I live on a lake and I’m lucky enough to wake up to this gorgeous view every morning (it does tend to distract me from the computer, I admit).

When I’m not writing, I can usually be found wielding a pair of knitting needles or a pool cue. Oh, and dealing with that wanderlust thing …

You can find Margery at:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads



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Today I am delighted to have author Aleah Barley on my blog today, talking about--->

Scents, Set Ups, and Surprises

Third stop in the tour. I’m starting to feel some momentum. I take a deep breath, glancing around the narrow Las Vegas alley. My ab-tastic cover is plastered on one of the nearby walls. Evidence that my publicist has been here, even if she’s still afraid to show her face after the debacles at my first two stops.

“This is it!” I tell the crowd of women who’ve decided to join me on the tour. Is it just me, or has the audience gotten bigger? I see a couple of fingers flying across smart phone touchscreens. I guess people have been getting the word out on Facebook and Twitter.

I take a deep breath. The alley smells like success. It smells like—I cough, trying to hold my nose. Better not to think about what it smells like. It might be the setting for one of my book’s first turning points, but it’s still a Las Vegas alleyway. No wonder smell-o-vision never took off. If they got it working properly, CSI’s ratings would plummet.

I power on. “This is the alley where—”

“The alley where Luke and Glory have their first kiss!” A tall woman shouts from the back. She’s wearing a filmy purple dress and clutching a Kindle. “It’s so romantic!”

Okay, so the book’s been out for a few days. I guess a couple of people have read it. I flush happily at the thought. I live in a teeny-tiny Detroit apartment full of Ikea furniture and a cat who’s intent on world domination. Every dollar I earn is going straight into the ‘buy Aleah a little house’ fund. Just like Glory—the West Virginia wild child who stars in Leaving Las Vegas—I want to be part of a bigger community.

“They only kiss because they’re running from gun-wielding bad guys,” someone else shouts back.

“It’s still freaking hot!”

Okay, I take a step forward and clear my throat. Time to start the book-talk before a fight breaks out. I’ve got a whole lecture planned out for this stop. It’s about keeping momentum going and balancing romance with suspense. It’s great. It’s got slides.

Beeeep! A car horn blasts through the man made canyon. Readers scatter as a classic Mustang rumbles into the narrow space. The car parks and two familiar figures clamber out.

Glory Allen and Luke Morrison. The couple at the center of my new book. Glory’s wearing jeans that skim her thighs and a boat necked t-shirt that advertises the diner she owns back in West Virginia. Luke’s looking mind-blowingly sexy in a suit tailored to his lean, muscular, body. His vintage watch is clasped to his wrist. He takes her hand as they walk towards me.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Are you guys really following me around?”

“We were going to ask the same thing about you,” Luke said.

“Yeah.” Glory’s mouth twitches up into an impish grin. Her eyes are glowing and her lips are bruised. Like she’s just been thoroughly kissed. “Was that you pounding on the wall back at the motel? Because that’s so not cool. I was in the middle of—“

Luke’s free hand wraps around his fiancé’s mouth, pulling her tight against him. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Glory pulls free with a laugh. “Good thing I’m not a gentleman. I’m a rip-roaring, holler living, small-town saving good time girl.”

“My good time girl.”

“Right.” She smiles up at him, and the love between them is so intense it practically glows. Clearly these two have come a long way since the last time they were in this alley. The readers are all gathering around them now, asking for autographs. I’ll never get to talk about momentum. Keeping things moving forward.

Why can’t characters ever do what they’re told? As a writer, do you like when your characters come up with surprises? As a reader, do you like a book that keeps you guessing?

What happened at the first two stops? Go to my website to check out the rest of the tour!

Or jump straight to the action by checking out Leaving Las Vegas available now!

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Leaving-Las-Vegas-Entangled-Ignite-ebook/dp/B00FO8GVGA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1382280602&sr=1-1

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/leaving-las-vegas-aleah-barley/1117054073?ean=9781622660841

And don’t forget to follow me at:

My website: http://aleahbarley.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aleahrbarley

or Twitter: @aleahbarley


When West Virginia wild-child Glory Allen gets caught in the middle of a kidnapping attempt, she has to decide if rescuing the sexy Luke Tanner is worth risking her life. Especially after the high and mighty casino magnate just accused her of cheating in his casino.

Her decision to help, causes Luke to step into her hometown to develop a community that doesn’t need improvement—a community Glory’s gambling earnings were meant to save—and Glory can’t help but question her judgment, because the chemistry between them is about to explode, and it has nothing to do with the Vegas thugs hot on their trail.

Now Glory is stuck helping Luke figure out who set him up and what to do about their own burning attraction…before Glory’s hometown, and her life, are lost for good.


“You’re cheating.”

Glory Allen was keenly aware of the long pause that followed that statement. Ice collided with glass, creating a tinkling noise, the only sound in the cheap Las Vegas motel room. The neon lights from the Strip a half mile away streamed through the window, making the stacks of neatly piled hundred-dollar bills gleam blue and red. Not the neat ceramic chips used at the fancy casinos on the Strip, but real money. Cash. And surrounding the table sat serious poker players. Big men with square jaws and bulges under their arms.

Normally, Glory wouldn’t give a rat’s rump what anyone thought about her.

Normally, she wasn’t playing poker for high stakes in a private game well off the Strip.

In Beaux, West Virginia, cheating at poker could get a girl’s behind beat black and blue. Here in Las Vegas, she figured they’d just shoot her. Two to the head and a quick burial in the nearest patch of desert.

Under the table, she curled her free hand into a fist, fingernails digging into her palms. The pain helped her to concentrate, kept her expression still. She forced herself to keep looking straight ahead, staring into the eyes of the man who’d accused her.

Luke. That was his name. The man with the green eyes who’d almost made her forget what she was doing when he’d undone the top few buttons of his shirt halfway through the night, displaying a chest that was lean but still muscular. He wasn’t her type. A little too clean-cut. But confident, with backbone to spare.

Confidence was drop-dead sexy in a man.

And yet it didn’t matter how sexy Mr. Fancy Pants was, not when so much money sat on the table. Five-card draw. Jokers wild. Real, old-fashioned poker. And over two hundred thousand dollars, stacked at her elbow. But she needed more. She had to keep playing.

More importantly, he had to keep playing. Had to keep upping the ante until she’d won enough to get out and go home.

“You got proof?” she challenged him. When he shook his head, she said, “Losing is no excuse for bad manners.”

He clenched his jaw tight. The face of his watch knocked against the table. His emerald eyes flashed, changing his expression from one of contempt to something a little more testy. Not good.

She felt about as safe as a red wriggler dangling in front of a hungry trout.

The other players leaned forward. The man on her left drummed his fingers against the table. Mr. Grant, a Los Angeles film producer who liked to adjust his tie when he thought he was about to win. His hand was at his throat now, undoing his crisp Windsor knot. His lips turned up in a thin, dangerous smile. “Let’s keep the game rolling. If you’re still in.”

Luke’s gaze swept around the table, confirming that the others wanted to continue the play. “I’m in.” His gaze stopped on Glory. “What about you?” His green eyes narrowed. Thin lines radiated out from the corner of his eyes, the small imperfections making him somehow more real. Human.

“I’m not going to fold,” she said. She couldn’t leave now, not when she had a game to win. A bus to catch. A town to save.


Aleah Barley is an author of funny (she hopes) contemporary romances. After recently moving to Detroit, she discovered that the rumors are true: it is a post-apocalyptic wasteland full of abandoned buildings, zombies, and hipster coffee shops that don’t open before nine in the morning. It’s also a great place to live.



She spends her days working hard to make the world a better place and her nights writing about kick-ass women who live life to the fullest and the men who love them.

She’ll do anything for a box of chocolates. Or ice cream. Seriously. Try her.

You can find Aleah at:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

You can find LEAVING LAS VEGAS at:


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The Soundtrack: 

I love popular music. Classic rock n’ roll, country rock, ballads, Latin pop. I especially love it if the lyrics tell a story, maybe because I like to tell stories. I don’t listen to music when I write. Frankly, I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing if I’m listening to music—unless I’m cleaning my house. :-)

But before or after writing, during those quiet times when the story is seeping into me, I think of favorite songs that could make up the soundtrack for my novels. The musical setting, if you will. In the Arms of a Stranger is a romance heavy with action, adventure and danger. The opening begs a song like Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” or Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild.” Action, the road. A man on the run.

To calm things down a bit and establish the setting, John Denver’s “Country Roads” works well, or maybe Brad Paisley’s “Old Alabama.” Neither of my characters is from a big city. JP Blackmon is from a small town. Abby Price grew up in the country, rural South Alabama to be exact, driving those Alabama country roads. She’s on a sorry excuse for one when JP runs into her.

What about romance? Oh, there are so many songs that could apply to that moment when attraction becomes more. Something like Lionel Richie’s “Hello,” maybe the one recorded on the television show Glee.

Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” seems like a good pick when the romance heats up but something holds the lovers back. And the time when they can no longer resist each other? Maybe the old Moody Blues song “Nights in White Satin.” Or something more modern, like Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years.”

And for that everything is lost moment? Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now” fits the bill.

Then, because it’s romance, despite the danger, the complications and obstacles, the happily ever after begs Rod Stewart singing “Have I Told You Lately.” Sigh.

Do you have a sound track for your favorite book? Or a song that inspires you to clean the house? Leave a comment for a chance to win. Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter.

I hope you’ll come along with me on this blog tour and get to know JP Blackmon and Abby Price. You can easily follow along on the tour by checking my Facebook Page. I’ll post the stop of the day there.

Next stop? Tuesday, October 29. A little about the setting of In the Arms of a Stranger at For Whom the Book Tolls.


A dangerous man on the run…
Wounded and accused of treason, CIA operative JP Blackmon is on the run from his own agency and desperate to clear his name. When he finds out his old partner is dead, he’ll do anything to get to the truth…including using his partner’s widow.

Finds a vulnerable woman looking for answers…

Abby Price wanted nothing more than a family and a safe home. But her late husband kept big secrets from her—secrets that got him killed and has government agents watching her every move. And she’s started fearing for her life. The only man who can help her is a mysterious stranger who suddenly appears out of nowhere. But can she trust him?

Together they discover a passion worth dying for.
As danger stalks them at every turn, unexpected passion flares between JP and Abby. But the last thing either wants or needs is more complications. Romance? No. Way. That would involve trust—something neither is willing to do. But in the end, sharing their deadly secrets is their only hope for survival…their only hope to hold onto the love they’ve just begun to share…


“Is JP your real name?”

He smiled, and she realized she hadn’t seen one of his real smiles before. This one lit up his face, made his eyes laugh. There was devilment in the smile. “I don’t know you well enough to tell you that yet.”


The look of him, the timbre of his voice, as if he really would know her well enough to—

Her breath caught. She couldn’t look away. That well?

She wanted to frown, to be outraged. But his eyes… Good heavens, his eyes. Everything about him, from his short dark hair, to his smile, to his broad shoulders, he was all captivating male.

Instead, she laughed. It was a totally unexpected reaction. She’d never reacted to anyone the way she did to JP. If that was his name…

And what came out of her mouth next was a total surprise. “When do you think you will?”


An RWA Golden Heart® finalist, Virginia Kelly’s first book was published as To the Limit and finaled in several contests such as the Holt Medallion, The Golden Quill and The Aspen Gold.

Virginia has always loved adventure novels, but romance is at the core of her stories—romance with the adrenalin rush of danger. Against the Wind, a full-length novel, and Dancing in the Dark, the prequel novella to In the Arms of a Stranger, are about dangerous men and the adventurous women willing to take a chance on them.

Traveling is a passion that came early in life. Her first airplane ride was a trip over the Andes Mountains in Peru at the ripe old age of two months. Her travels provide the settings for her novels, whether it’s a fictitious Latin American country based on Peru, the country of her birth, or Florida and the American South where she now lives.

A graduate of the University of Alabama with a master’s degree in Library Science, Virginia is an academic librarian. She tries to include a librarian in all of her books as either the heroine or as a minor character. Having taught high school and college, she has a great appreciation for teachers and often uses that as the profession for her heroines.

Find Virginia at:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Pinterest

Find In the Arms of a Stranger at:


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I love Halloween! Not the blood and gore kind of Halloween, but the happy memories of going trick-or-treating with my sister, of guzzling apple cider, hauling bulging pillowcases, separating candy into piles on the floor, already arranged from best to worst. Or what about those plastic masks with elastic straps that never failed to get cockeyed so that you couldn't see and you'd trip and bloody your chin? Sigh. Those were the days.

There are other memories, too. I remember our neighbors, The Snyders, who always invited you in for donuts, instead of candy. When you walked into their house you were in a huge foyer, with arched doorways on both sides, and a wide curved staircase in front of you that led up to the open floor above where the many Snyders had bedrooms (I feel like there were at least ten, though it's probably more like six). To the right was the dining room and on the long table sat an enormous punch bowl, always filled with some sweet and cooling concoction. I'd close my eyes as I drank, the liquid calming a throat dry from laughing in the October air as I ran from house to house in a furious quest to get the most candy, and the most cavities. 

I remember another house, up the block. They always had a party and when you rang that doorbell you were forced into a living room circled with chairs full of adults, ready to see you perform your trick. Maybe it was the slight of hand move your uncle showed you, or a cartwheel, or semblance thereof. Or maybe you'd tell the corny joke you'd memorized before you left the house. You know, what does Frankenstein eat for lunch? Halloweenies! Or what has four wheels and flies? All together now--a garbage truck! Or maybe, what eight-legged creature rules the sea? Billy the Squid. I don't think my kids have even once performed a trick for their candy. They're missing out. And I miss that! I miss those days.

So I do things to remember. My decorations reflect the nostalgic way I feel about Halloween.


 A bit overdone?

My good feelings have spilled over to the clothes I wear. (And this is just what was clean!) I start October first and then there's a sad period between Halloween and Christmas that I have to wear normal clothes before donning the reindeer and Santa Claus shirts.

I even have Halloween jewelry.

Napkins (and, of course, napkin rings!).

You get the picture.

And I have to make loads of goodies to fill that festive table.

Heck, even my shopping list is Halloweeny!

I get a little nutty, I guess.

What about you? What are some of your favorite Halloween items?

Since we're talking about scary things, let me tell you a little bit about the harrowing trials I put my rock star hero through in TRAPPED UNDER ICE!


Trapped Under Ice is a novel about a three time platinum record-producing band whose lead singer, Chad Evans, is haunted by his past.  Growing up in an abusive home, then being left alone at the age of thirteen to raise his kid brother, Chad still fights the pain he felt as a child, and the anger it causes, despite being a wildly successful rock star.  “Chad [tries] to play his heart out on the stage; but he [can] never quite seem to leave it there.” 

Beth Donovan, lunch lady/writer, is thrilled to be enjoying a Trapped Under Ice concert with her daughter, Cassie.  Even though it has been three years since her husband, Paul’s, death, sorrow still shadows her life, so the distraction of seeing her favorite group is a welcome one.  However, when the concert is over, Beth and her daughter are followed and attacked by two men in one of the stadium’s bathrooms.  When Chad and his bodyguard, Pete, come to their aid, an attraction sparks immediately between Beth and the tall singer. 

Though the pair is drawn to each other, the relationship goes through numerous trials centered on Chad’s unresolved anger, and Beth’s fear of opening herself up again.  Just as the two seem to be able to work through their problems, they face being separated forever by someone who is sending Chad death threats.  Trapped Under Ice is the story of a love-affair fraught with difficulties from without, (ex-girlfriends who resurface, crazed fans who don’t want to take “no” for an answer…), as well as difficulties from within, (jealousy, anger, fear…).  Will Chad and Beth be able to rise above these trials and tribulations? Or will they remain trapped under ice?

Interested? Well just enter to win one of the two e-copies being given away below:

Thanks for coming by and Happy Halloween!

Here's where to hop to next!


Hey, y'all! My friend Betty Meyette has taken over the blog today and she's here to tell you:

Colonial America Was Sexy…Really

Who doesn’t love a Regency novel? The allure of that time period is the touchstone of romance novels for many readers. Beautiful gowns, gallant swains, horse-drawn carriages, the Ton, and strict social mores (that our heroines love to ignore). But if you go back a mere 40 years across the pond, you will find that the American colonial period was just as romantic. Think of the love letters between John and Abigail Adams during their courtship.

In Love’s Destiny, many of the elements that make a Regency novel romantic are also present in this colonial America story. Beautiful gowns with low décolletage that invite a man’s gaze, lovers meeting in moonlit gardens or beside a crackling fire, playful interchange between a man and woman exploring a potential tryst, and the passion that results when their chemistry ignites. The recipe for romance is complete and satisfying.

Jonathon Brentwood is captain of the merchant ship The Destiny, and in his travels, has experienced life and all of its pleasures. He is a committed patriot who works for the Committees of Correspondence and fights against the tyranny of English rule. (Well, I guess that’s a big difference since Regency romances are set in England.) But the dedication and loyalty of friends working together for a common cause that calls Jonathon to danger and heroism are the stuff of which romance is made. The dashing, handsome hero who never compromises his integrity, but realizes nothing in life compares to his love for his lady.

Emily Wentworth, a young woman who lives in England, defies the social norms of the day because she is educated and well-read. Shocking the ton, (yes it existed even then) she refuses an expected marriage proposal in order to follow Jonathon to Virginia where revolution is fomenting. Her journey is not just across the Atlantic; it is a journey of her heart as well for she must come to terms with her attraction to Jonathon. Their resistance to the attraction each feels for the other melts during a secluded encounter, but many barriers block their happiness including divided loyalties and a former spiteful lover.

In Love’s Spirit, their story continues as the revolution begins increasing the threat to Jonathon’s life, while danger at home threatens Emily’s. Lovers separated by life’s demands and dangers, sweeping vistas of historic countryside, valiant defeat of enemies and transformation through love, these are not just found in Regency romances. Our founding fathers were…uh, fathers after all.


Love’s Destiny The simmering rebellion in the American colonies is the backdrop for this smoldering romance. When Jonathon Brentwood, captain of the Destiny and committed patriot, comes into the life of Emily Wentworth, a young English woman, divided loyalties and desire to honor a father’s dying wish cannot hold their passion at bay. But their pasts and the future of a young country stand in the way of their destiny.

Love’s Spirit As the Revolutionary War breaks out the story of Jonathon and Emily continues. Both face danger: Jonathon from the British who want to hang him for treason, and Emily from the woman whose love for Jonathon has driven her mad. While the impending birth of their baby is cause for celebration, threats from the British and from evil lurking at Brentwood Manor present obstacles to their love.

Excerpts ~  

Love’s Destiny

“Captain Brentwood? I am pleased to meet you.”

Emily was annoyed at the tremble in her voice. He bent and kissed her hand, his lips brushing softly against her skin. Their eyes met as he straightened. Emily tried to steady herself, unable to make her heart stop beating so hard. She was sure he could hear it. She reminded herself of her plan, and quickly regained her composure, straightening to her full height.

“You must be exhausted after your long, hurried voyage. May I offer you some tea,” she paused noting his suppressed smile, “or some brandy?” she added.

“Brandy would be fine. Thank you, … uh … Miss Wentworth,” he replied still fighting back the smile.

Emily led him into the parlor and rang for the maid; Etta appeared. Emily knew this would be difficult for Etta still thought of her as a child.

“Two brandies please, Etta.” She raised her chin as she had practiced before the mirror. Etta started to protest, but something in Emily’s eyes stopped her, and she hurried off to get the drinks.

“Please sit down, Captain Brentwood,” Emily said coolly as she sat on the end of the settee. To her confusion, Jonathon sat beside her rather than in the chair she had indicated. A crooked smile played around his lips as though he attempted to hide a joke. He thought of the “Little Em” of George’s stories and chuckled to himself. Nothing had prepared him for this beautiful girl who was trying so hard to be a woman.

“We have much to discuss, Miss Wentworth,” he said as Etta returned with a tray carrying the decanter and two crystal glasses.

“Indeed we have, Captain,” she replied.

Etta set the tray on the table in front of Emily. The housekeeper poured brandy into the glasses, and Emily was grateful for she had no idea what an appropriate amount would have been. She thought Etta rather stingy based on what was in each glass, but she took them and handed one glass to Jonathon. “Thank you, Etta; that will be all.” She turned to Jonathon dismissing the housekeeper.

“Hmmmph!” Etta grumbled as she left the room.

Jonathon silently saluted Emily and then took a drink from his glass. Emily sipped hers and tried to choke down the spasms of coughing that threatened to overcome her. She had sampled wine before at social gatherings, but had never tasted brandy. Heat spread down her throat and she blinked the tears out of her eyes causing her to miss the fleeting smile that crossed Jonathon’s face. It was a few minutes before she caught her breath enough to speak.

Love’s Spirit

Virginia, March 1776
Emily Brentwood slowly rose to consciousness steeling herself against the assault of anguish and sorrow that accosted her at every dawn. For the last four months the memory of her beloved husband Jonathon, shot and dragged into a British skiff, had been the image that lifted her from her sleep and carried her to waking. The terror she had felt as that scene had unfolded before her, leaving her to believe that he was dead, seeped through her as if it were all happening again.

But something was different this morning. What was it? She battled waking to delay the pain, but there was a whisper of awareness that eased her reluctance. The sun was not rising; it was slanting in the western sky, and the pungent aroma of cedar surrounded her. Slowly coming awake, she started at the sensation of strong arms holding her and warm breath tickling the back of her neck. Jonathon was beside her. She gasped as her eyes flew open.

“Jonathon,” she breathed.

“Love,” he answered sleepily.

She rolled toward him and buried her face in his chest. His scent was intoxicating and the thick mat of hair tickled her nose; she burrowed into him and he kissed the top of her head. Her arms encircled him and pulled him closer, but his gasp reminded her that his injuries were still fresh. She released him.

“No, do not let me go,” he whispered.

“I fear I will hurt you. You are badly beaten, Jonathon.”

Emily recalled the shock of first seeing her husband so bruised and battered when she had arrived at the cabin. His left eye was swollen almost shut, and his cheeks, chest and back bore the marks of a cat-o'-nine-tails. She had been reluctant to touch him at all for fear of inflicting more pain, but he had reached out his arms to her and she had melted into them. Gently, slowly, she had eased against his body tentatively testing each move until they lay together, lost in the bliss of the other’s touch.

Bio ~   

Elizabeth Meyette

Author, poet, freelance writer and blogger Elizabeth Meyette published her first novel, Love’s Destiny in June 2012. She had written the historical romance 30 years earlier, but it languished in her closet during her career in education as an English teacher and Media Specialist. Upon retiring from teaching, she dusted off Love’s Destiny, polished it up and submitted it to Crimson Romance, an imprint of F&W Media, who published it. Unlike her first novel, the sequel, Love’s Spirit took only seven months from inception to submission, and was published as an ebook on April 22, 2013. Elizabeth and her husband Richard live in the Great Lakes Bay area of Michigan. They have an agreement that she cannot cook on writing days after he endured burnt broccoli and overcooked chicken. Fortunately, Richard is an excellent cook. Elizabeth becomes so absorbed in her writing, crying at the sorrows of her characters, rejoicing in their triumphs, that she laughingly describes herself as a “snapdragon” at interruptions, “not like the pretty flower, but like a dragon that snaps.” She will soon publish a mystery set in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. Visit Elizabeth at www.elizabethmeyette.com. Her blog, Meyette’s Musings can be found at http://elizabethmeyette.blogspot.com.

You can find Elizabeth at:

Website: www.elizabethmeyette.com

Blog: http://elizabethmeyette.blogspot.com/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/elizabethfmeyette

Twitter: @efmeyette

You can buy Elizabeth’s books at:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Meyette/e/B0087F27JM/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/elizabeth-meyette?store=allproducts&keyword=elizabeth+meyette
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/elizabeth-meyette/id523130853?mt=11


Today I am featuring the paranormal romance THE HOWLING HEART.


Paige Donovan is an ambitious college graduate who aspires to reach the top of the corporate ladder. She’s climbing fast when given the promotion of a lifetime at a prestigious fashion magazine in New York City. Her bright future comes to an unexpected halt after news of her father’s death. She inherits his old cabin in the Colorado Rockies, and just when she thinks her luck couldn’t get any worse, she has a car accident in the mountains and awakens in the small, remote community of Black River.

Soon, she’s engulfed in the mystical world of Varulv—wolves descended from 13th century Scandinavia and blessed by Norse gods with the ability to appear human. Paige is desperate to return home, but never expects to fall for her rescuer, Riley Gray, a charming young werewolf from England who offers her an alternate future with his pack.

Now, she must choose between the career she’s always wanted and the love she’s always dreamed.


I wasn’t expecting us to have this type of conversation so soon, but there we were, sitting on the riverbank while discussing Varulv sex. He didn’t seem embarrassed to talk about it, and I was getting more curious.

“Have you ever made love to a human?” I asked timidly. My ears felt hot, and I looked at him through shy eyes. I hoped I wasn’t overstepping the boundary of personal information.

He answered quietly. “No.”

His revelation came as a surprise, but I was still curious. “What about a wolf?” I don’t know why I asked. I knew there was no possible way this extremely attractive man was a virgin.

He hesitated this time. Seconds ticked by before he replied, “Pack law states we can only make love after we claim a mate and the leader recognizes our union.”

His indirect answer caught me off-guard, and I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my words. “You’re not one to follow the rules, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

I looked away and lifted my feet out of the water. With my legs bent, I pressed my knees against my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I thought the conversation was over, but Riley was determined to have my attention. His fingers grasped my chin to turn my head toward him.

“That’s probably the only law I haven’t broken.”

Our gazes locked, and he almost stole my breath, again. “Why? I know abstinence can’t be easy for you.”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Not anymore.”

I noticed his green irises had flecks of amber in them—the same color as his wolf eyes. That’s when I realized our heads had moved closer.

Riley’s warm breath caressed my face, and it smelled of hickory and clove. “I’m not interested in any she-wolves in the pack.”


April Bostic is a New Jersey-based, Adult Romance author who enjoys unleashing her creativity and letting her imagination run wild. Her love of romance books inspired her to become not just a reader, but also a writer. In December 2008, she self-published her first novel, a contemporary romance with a supernatural twist entitled “A Rose to the Fallen.”

Her first short story, “Right Here, Right Now,” released in January 2012, is an erotic romance with a dash of S&M. The following year, she released two more short stories: a romantic urban fantasy inspired by the Greek myth of Eros and Psyche entitled “Eros, My Love,” and a sexy romantic comedy entitled “Love Addiction.”After five years, she released her second novel, “The Howling Heart” in August 2013, a paranormal romance that delves into the mystical world of werewolves and Norse gods. To end her busiest year in publishing, April will release her fourth and final short story in December 2013, a historical vampire romance entitled “A Dark Scandal.”

You can find April at: 

 Website | Goodreads

You can buy THE HOWLING HEART at:


I want to welcome back to my blog today, the wonderful and prolific Diane Burton! Take it Diane!


I enjoy watching some cop shows and not others. NCIS and Castle are my favorites. What I enjoy most is the occasional levity. A show that is too serious all the time is not for me. Rick Castle often contributes the comic elements in a show that starts with a murder. Sometimes, though, Beckett lets loose with a zinger that puts him in his place and brings a smile.

In the movie Galaxy Quest, itself a comedy, one of the characters thinks he’s expendable. Another character says he could be the “plucky comic relief.” Characters, either by their dialogue or their actions, can bring relief to an otherwise intense situation. In Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books, the slapstick comedy is so laugh out loud funny I can’t read the books before I go to sleep because the bed will shake with my laughter and wake up Hubs.

Another form of comedy is witty repartee, as in The Thin Man movies. All right, so they are very old—definitely before my time—but they’re still classics. So is All About Eve, one of my all-time favorites. Betty Davis’ lines crack me up every time. One of my wishes is that I could always have a great come back line.

I love the role of a sidekick in my books. They’re allowed to be silly or goofy. In my latest book, One Red Shoe, a romantic suspense, I had a great time with one of the bad guys. He is such a klutz. If he hadn’t been foisted on a legendary assassin, my hero wouldn’t have made it past the first chapter. Good thing.


Wannabe writer rescues wounded spy while risking her heart.

Daria Mason’s life is too predictable. Nothing ever happens in her small Iowa town where everybody knows everybody else. But when she travels to New York City looking for a little excitement, she never expects to bring home a wounded spy.

From the moment agent Sam Jozwiak steals intel vital to US security from a Russian Mafia kingpin, Murphy’s Law takes over. No matter how he covers his tracks, the kingpin’s assassins find him. What’s worse than getting shot in the butt? Accepting help from an Iowa tourist.

Sam and Daria flee cross country with the assassins right behind them. Sharing danger and excitement—and a few kisses—with Sam soon has Daria convinced he’s the man for her. He thinks she’ll be better off once he’s out of her life for good. With their lives on the line, can she convince him they belong together?


The guy with the itchy trigger finger had to be Korioff’s son. If so, the syndicate was in big trouble. Oh, darn. Sam smiled for the first time since the wee hours of Saturday morning when he found Yuri in his hotel room and rolled down the stairs with the bumbling partner. Only sheer dumb luck enabled Sam to escape then. Luck wasn’t with him now.

The two made no effort to conceal their locations. Yuri was searching one side of the room and Junior the other. Since they were separated, Sam could take them out one at a time. Christ, he hated hand-to-hand combat. Too close, too personal. Unlike a bullet. Though trained in self-defense, Sam was no assassin. Unlike Yuri.

Zzt-ping-ping-thud. Christ, the kid was shooting again. Bullets ricocheted off the industrial shelving and penetrated boxes. Yuri yelled at him again. From the vantage point of height in the center of the huge room, Sam watched the shadows of the men searching for him. One, big and clumsy. The other shorter with the stealth of experience. And no Teller. Could the day get more screwed up than this?


Fire streaked across Sam’s butt. He clenched his teeth to keep from sucking air or, worse, crying out in pain. Carefully, he looked over his shoulder.

Damn. Those were his favorite jeans.

What’s your favorite type of comedy?

One Red Shoe is available for Kindle at: 



Diane Burton combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction and romance into writing science fiction romance. Besides the Switched series, she is the author of The Pilot, a series about strong women on the frontier of space. One Red Shoe is her first romantic suspense. She is also a contributor to the anthology How I Met My Husband. Diane and her husband live in Michigan. They have two children and two grandchildren.

For more info and excerpts from her books, visit Diane’s website: http://www.dianeburton.com

Connect with Diane Burton online

Blog: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/dmburton72

Facebook: http://facebook.com/dianeburtonauthor

Goodreads: Diane Burton Author

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/dmburton72/

Diane Burton is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card to a lucky commenter. To enter, use the Rafflecopter below or http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/2013/09/release-day-one-red-shoe.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The winner will be announced on October 31st.

Thanks, MJ, for helping me celebrate the release of my newest book.

My pleasure entirely!


Life Changers…Dr. Drew Can’t Cure This

One of my favorite television shows is ABC’s Once Upon a Time. I love this show because we receive a glimpse into the lives of time-honored and much loved fairy tale characters. We discover their stories—like how did Snow White and Prince Charming meet before the fated kiss? Why did Rumpelstiltskin choose to become an evil, magical imp instead of the loving, self-sacrificing father he once was? How did the queen become an embittered, warped, rage-filled evil bi—I mean, sorceress? It’s fascinating—the histories, choices and events that shaped them into Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella and Pinocchio are fascinating.

Last year my local RWA chapter hosted a program presented by author Carrie Lofty called “From Clichés to Keepers”. She spoke about the events that establish a character’s inner-self and the psychological repercussions that affect their behavior and emotions. What altered a heroine’s path from rebellious, high-spirited child to biddable, don’t-rock-the-boat woman? What event ingrained a fear of snakes inside an otherwise fearless hero?

When I was five, I attended Messiah Lutheran Day Care Center. That summer there was an infestation of Daddy Long Legs. They were every-freaking-where! One hot day while eating lunch out on the playground, a couple of spiders crawled up my arm and—unbeknownst to me—one disappeared inside my Doritos bag. Imagine sprinkling those last, all-important crumbs—cause we all know the bag isn’t truly finished until you upend the crumbs on your tongue!—on my palm and discovering an eight-legged freak amid the chips! Oh Lawd! Up until that point my only fear was water pooling in my bathing suit and dragging down my top to expose my itty-bitty, non-existent boobies to my class! But after that point I developed a horrible, debilitating case of arachnophobia. And as twins often share many things, my sister did, too. We even stapled the spider section together in the Encyclopedia Britannica so we wouldn’t flip to it by mistake! Unfortunately, the fear hasn’t abided. I still haven’t watched that part in Return of the King. I’ve never watched the movie Arachnophobia—had nightmares for two weeks from the trailer alone! If the Daddy Long Leg infestation hadn’t happened, well, I wouldn’t have heart palpitations every time I see a web. Aaand I wouldn’t sit in the car during a hot summer’s day sweating off five pounds waiting on my husband to get home so he can kill the spider on the front porch.

I started thinking about my characters and their life-changing events. In Secrets and Sins: Malachim, my new release from Entangled Publishing’s Ignite line, my heroine Danielle Warren hates the dark. As a child, she and her older sister, Carmen had to often fend for themselves because in the term of priorities they logged in under boyfriends and drugs with their addict mother. Their mother overdosed when they were eleven, and Danielle, home alone at the time with her, had been trapped for hours in the dark bedroom with the body. Since that time, Danielle has found complete darkness claustrophic and terrifying.

Malachim Jerrod, the hero, learned a hard lesson about evil early in life. Twenty years earlier one of the three boys he’d been best friends with—literally—since birth, killed a man who had tried to attack him. He and his other two friends helped cover up the crime, including burying the body and protecting the secret for two decades. It was Malachim’s first brush with true evil, and it tainted him. He never looked at the world through the same eyes again, and he grew up to be an attorney, a defender of the hunted, persecuted, and innocent.

How these characters overcome their fears, hang-ups, and world views—or persevere in spite of them—are as wonderful to read as witnessing them outsmart a psychopath, discover the identity of an obsessed stalker or stand up to their pasts. Now my happily-ever-after where I can kill a spider or even look at a picture of one without flipping out hasn’t arrived yet… But hey! One can dream!

Thank you so much, M.J., for sharing your blog with me today, and allowing me to introduce myself to your readers. There’s still time to enter the Secrets and Sins: Malachim Giveaway September 23rd through October 4th. The prizes are a $20 Amazon Gift Card, a World Traveler Boston cuff bracelet, and the 4 September Ignite releases! You can enter through the Rafflecopter below!


When Danielle Warren shows up on Boston attorney Malachim Jerrod’s doorstep looking for a job, his first thought is trouble. Well, actually his first thought is how does a woman with the face of a saint have the voice of a sex phone operator? But sexy trouble or not, he’s desperate for a paralegal to help keep his struggling law office afloat. Can the boss keep his distance from the silk of his employee’s skin, the siren lure of her body…or ignore the haunting vulnerability in her eyes.

Danielle can’t remember her own name, because it belongs to someone else. The new identity has afforded a fresh start and a new job. She’s taking control, making her own decisions, and refuses to allow anything to distract her—even her unwanted desire for her boss. Because distraction is dangerous and letting her guard down is not an option. Especially with a shadowy figure stalking her every move.

Danger is on the hunt, threatening the boss she’s falling in love with. Should she fight for the future of her dreams or flee to save Malachim’s life? Danielle must make a decision. Because her lies are unraveling. And some secrets can kill…


“I don’t…” Danielle paused as if considering her phrasing. “Have a lot of faith in the police or the justice system. In my experience, they haven’t always been…reliable.”

Oh, Malachim heard so much in that slight hesitation. At some point in her life, those sworn to protect and serve had failed her. She didn’t trust cops. Suddenly, her vehemence about not calling the police after the mugging made sense. Through the years, he’d had clients who’d had troubled pasts and possessed an inherent dislike for anyone with a shield pinned to his or her chest or carried in a wallet. While her reply assuaged some of his questions, it didn’t answer all of them. What had occurred to instill her mistrust? Was it related to the fear of men she tried—and failed—to conceal?

“I get you might have had a negative experience with the police, sweetheart. I do. And I’m sorry about that. But you lied. Why?”

She shook her head, her curls glancing off her cheeks. “I-I,” she stuttered, “I didn’t want to tell the detective what the intruder said to me.”

He leaned over the table as fear slithered across his soul like dark clouds over a bright, full moon. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

Another pause, and the skin over her knuckles blanched.

“He said we…didn’t get to spend time together.”

He exploded from his chair. The piece of furniture teetered before rocking forward, the front legs hitting the floor with a thud. He noticed her flinch, but he could do nothing to reassure her. Not while fury raced through his veins.

He stalked from the room and entered the kitchen. He didn’t want to scare her with his rage. Because part of it was directed at Danielle. Why hadn’t she said something earlier? The home invasion, the shooting, her narrow escape… Suddenly, the robbery-gone-wrong had taken on a darker, more sinister cast.

One where she, not her belongings, had been the primary target.

She wasn’t going back to that apartment; if he had to tie her to his home until she saw reason, he would. If Pat hadn’t been there, she could’ve been…

The desire to see her, to stroke her cheek, to pull her into his arms overwhelmed him. He returned to her, a scrap of driftwood being carried back on the swell of need. He’d scanned her in the hospital waiting room, but he had to do it again. Had to convince himself she was truly all right.

Her gaze settled on him the moment he walked into the room, as if she’d been watching the entrance for him. Acknowledging he faced probable rejection, he still strode to the couch and dropped to his knees beside her. He stared into her eyes. Noted the thick, black fringe of lashes. Studied the delicate arch of her dark brows. Detected the soft gasp of air between lush, parted lips.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered.


Naima Simone is a multi-published author in contemporary&erotic romance.She’s a member of RWA’s Southern Magic chapter,mother of the Dynamic Duo,lover of everything Vin Diesel &wife to the fabulous husband who tolerates this                                       affair.

You can find Naima here:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

You can purchase SECRETS AND SINS:MALACHIM here: