Sunday, May 31, 2020

4 CUPS from @CoffeeTimeRoman THE BETA'S SPITFIRE #paranormal #romance @ChangelingPress

The Beta’s Spitfire by Gale Stanley

Erotic, Paranormal Romance, Werewolves
Rating: 4 Cups

"The Beta’s Spitfire is a wonderful coming of age story paranormal style. I like how Delilah’s character grows and becomes stronger with every page. Samson is a strong man, though initially he appears weak. The story is about an evolution of love and personal growth and what happens when the life the characters thought they would have is turned upside down."

Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More

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Thursday, May 28, 2020

Throwback Thursday ~ OFF-LIMITS #MM #ShapeShifter #Romance @sirenbookstrand

OFF-LIMITS Sanctuary 1

Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 21,584
[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Contemporary Paranormal Romance, shape-shifter, M/M, HEA]


When Quinn Hart’s best friend died, he became guardian to the man’s ten-year- old son, Noah Stone. So far, Quinn has been able to conceal the growing attraction he feels for Noah, but now Noah is twenty-two and returning home from college. Honor still holds Quinn back from revealing his true feelings. Their community of bear shifters consider reproduction a priority, and Quinn fears they would never accept a homosexual relationship.

Noah has always hidden his romantic feelings for his guardian, but now he’s a man, and his desire is stronger than ever. Unable to handle his feelings, Noah leaves Oregon for a position in a research facility. But when Noah arrives in New York, he discovers his employer is harvesting bear bile and he’s the new source.

Quinn is determined to find Noah. But can he admit what he really wants before it’s too late?


Home. Noah had forgotten how much he missed the endless expanse of lush green landscape and the sparkling river. And the trees. Especially the trees. When the leaves whispered in the wind, it made Noah’s heart ache. Whoever had named their small town knew that trees were sanctuaries.

But for all that, home wasn’t a place, it was a person—Quinn. Noah could live anywhere with Quinn. But a life with Quinn was as likely as a sharknado ripping through Sanctuary.

Noah moved away from the window and gazed at his reflection. The mirror was wall mounted and speckled in places. The frame matched the wood dresser beneath it. A handknitted brown and tan spread covered the crude pine bed. The room had been decorated on a meager budget, but it was warm and comforting because Quinn had handcrafted all the furniture himself.

Noah’s bedroom hadn’t changed since he was a kid. Yesterday, when he’d first stepped through the door, he’d felt the walls close in on him. As a kid, this room seemed huge, but now that he was a man, he could see how small it really was. It felt surreal like turning back the clock, but not in a bad way. If only he could—

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

The sound of loud voices traveled up the stairs. More guests had arrived for the party. The community was small, but when everyone attended an event, it could be overwhelming. Noah checked his image in the mirror again. He’d already changed shirts several times, and he still wasn’t sure that he liked the blue chambray shirt he’d put on with his khakis. Why am I making such a big deal out of this? He felt like Marcus primping for one of those stupid frat parties. What difference did it make what color shirt he wore? Stop stalling, he told himself. You can’t stay in your room forever.

Noah stood at the top of the stairs. Below, friends and neighbors were chatting excitedly. Noah had nothing to say to them. He would disappoint them. Anxiety made his stomach churn.

Happy Reading!
Available at

Author Bio and Links

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Snuggle up with a Romance Tonight ~ Surrender at Canyon Road by Debora Dale #RomanticSuspense

Snuggle up with a Romance Tonight 

Debora Dale:

When planning the release of my debut romantic suspense novel, I anticipated some bumps and hurdles, but I never anticipated anything as catastrophic as a pandemic. My state has been the hardest hit in the USA so far, with immeasurable levels of fear, suffering and grief.

Because of that, I’ve kept fairly quiet about the release of my book. I purposely scheduled it for the end of May as a birthday gift to myself, but wondered whether I should postpone it, and if so, for how long? A few months? A year? Then, as I listened to the advice of friends, fellow authors and fellow readers, I agreed many of us actually need to escape into a book right now. Just as many of us have escaped into baking, cleaning, exercising or even lip syncing.

At times it’s necessary, for our health, to decompress

That had me thinking about my heroine. She’s a woman who endured great trauma as a child, who kept her fears and frustrations locked deep inside, thinking she had defeated them when what she actually did was lug them around with her everywhere. She let them direct her actions and reactions. Her thoughts and habits. That is, until her every method of defense was met with challenges she could have never imagined.

Even then, she believed she could rely on her old tried and true tactics if she only thought them through a little more. Finally, when the odds mounted against her and the man she’d grown to love, she called on her own strength and fortitude, which she had only just begun to recognize.

That comes with time, and with pain. It comes when we feel there's no other choice, when we fear all is lost except this one thing – our own hidden abilities. It helps to know there are other people who are willing to help, to fight with us and for us. That we are not alone. And in this case, in our fight against this cruel virus, none of us are.

Covid19 is so much bigger than each of us but so much smaller than all of us. For that reason, we have to stay strong together, with common sense and compassion.

And so it’s right that we take care of ourselves in every way we can, to fortify our minds, our spirits, our bodies. To eat well, rest, relax if possible, and replenish.

A story with seemingly insurmountable odds that promises a well-earned happily ever after might be one path toward the goal of helping to make us whole, even if only for an hour or two.

Stay safe. Take care of yourself. Pour a glass of wine or a cup of tea, and snuggle up with a romance tonight. You can give lip-syncing a go tomorrow.

Not Your Mother's Hero - Surrender at Canyon Road

From the Back Cover

Surrender at Canyon Road
Bound by her past

Freed by his love

Ransom in hand, Johnny "Blake" races to the drop point to rescue his sister and nephew only to wind up blindsided by a terrible double-cross. Now he's stranded in the Colorado Rockies in the dead of night with no car and no options. Then the kidnappers call with new demands and Blake is forced to do the unthinkable.

Dani Moyer is only a few good photographs and some winding mountain roads away from winning a contest that will change her life--until a stranger kidnaps her. She doesn't believe his story about a kidnapped sister and her child. And she's not giving up her dreams without a fight.

But when the kidnappers call again, Blake and Dani hear the agonizing sound of the child's frightened voice. Blake will stop at nothing to save the boy from this nightmare, and Dani knows that to help him, she must surrender her own dreams.

Debora Dale's first literary love is romantic suspense - to read and to write. A New Yorker born and bred, Debora uses the diversity, excitement and seedy underbelly of her hometown as fodder for her stories. While she adores happily-ever-afters, she makes certain her characters toil for theirs.

When not writing, she can be found baking a decadent little something in her kitchen or enjoying a quiet moment in her tiny urban yard. Mostly, however, you will find her trying to plot a new story while at least one of her five rescued felines settles in for a nap on her keyboard.

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Surrender at Canyon Road

Available Now from your favorite bookstore in paperback or digital format

Monday, May 25, 2020

Out Now—Blue Magnolia (Red Farlow Mysteries No. 2) by WF Ranew (@wfranew) #GrandOleOpry #Mystery

PI Red Farlow dives headfirst into a hornets' nest of extremists. His new client, Hank Tillman, only wants to get a shot at country music stardom. While playing in a Georgia bar, Hank—known as Cowboy to his fans—stumbles into trouble. The kind that kills. PI Red Farlow steps in to help him.
Hank’s song, Redneck Devil, attracts the attention of a violent group called the Blue Magnolia. Its leaders want him to perform at their next hate rally. But there's another, darker reason the Blue Magnolia wants Hank in its fold. An elderly patient in a Florida insane asylum reveals a decades-long secret that devastates Hank. It’s the worst kind of fake news.
Can Farlow root out the truth? The PI has his own problems as he confronts a hired killer face-to-face.
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You couldn’t help but like Hank. He smiled broadly and often, friendly in a wholly Southern way. Which is why there was no easy way to explain what happened to loveable Hank Tillman. But it did happen. How could he offend anybody? Not easy, if you knew him. But he did.
Hank’s story told a long and complicated tale for his number of years, a romance bitten with tragedy, his life’s destiny crawling along like a rattlesnake on a hot July afternoon.
Yet, Hank himself smiled brightly. He always made most well-adjusted people feel good, whether he played in a honky-tonk or just talked while sipping iced tea on his mama’s screened front porch in Norman Park, Georgia. He preferred the sweet tea rather than bourbon during periods of hoisting himself up on the wagon for another short ride. Besides, his mother wouldn’t allow the hard drink in her house. Other times, liquor held on to Hank and wouldn’t let go. He tried Alcoholics Anonymous once. Didn’t take. Couldn’t take. Probably never would.
Hank’s story evolves from a crossroads in his life. There, he encountered some people who wanted to destroy him. He also met Red Farlow, who happened to be in the audience the night in Southwest Georgia.
Farlow worked as a private investigator with a checkered past in law enforcement and a real badass attitude. But, like Hank Tillman, Red was a pretty nice guy. Most of the time.
Cowboy’s story started in Nashville, Tennessee. If you asked Hank, he hoped it would end there one day.

Author bio:
W.F. Ranew is a former newspaper reporter, editor, and communication executive. He started his journalism career covering sports, police, and city council meetings at his hometown newspaper, The Quitman Free Press. He also worked as a reporter and editor for several regional dailies: The Augusta (Ga.) Chronicle, The Florida Times-Union, and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
Blue Magnolia is the second of the Red Farlow Mysteries, published May 20, 2020. The first book in the series, Rich and Gone, was released in April 2019. Both are from Tirgearr Publishing.
Ranew has written two previous novels—Schoolhouse Man and Candyman’s Sorrow. He lives with his wife in Atlanta and St. Simons Island, Georgia.

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Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

#TBT The Boss (Roosters 10) by Gale Stanley #Gay #Romance @ChangelingPress

The Boss (Roosters 10) by Gale Stanley

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Bryan Keller
BIN: 009202-02979
Genres: BDSM, Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary), Romance,
Gay, Silver Fox


Maxwell Barnes runs the top law firm in the city, owns a private BDSM club, and has more money than he can spend in a lifetime. He gets everything he wants, and now he wants his paralegal, Aaron Marshall. Mixing work and pleasure is a big no-no, but their mutual attraction is off the charts. The one thing Maxwell isn’t looking for is love, but sometimes fate has a mind of its own.


This e-book file may contain adult scenes and language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The Boss (Roosters)
Gale Stanley
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Gale Stanley

Fucking traffic. Even at this hour of the day, the streets were as jammed as my calendar. Doesn’t matter what I drive. My Mercedes-Maybach won’t get me to the office any faster than a Prius, but my ride got a lot of looks. It commanded the eye as well as the road. I imagined the other drivers were wondering what VIP was enjoying all this luxury. The thought ignited me. Being the center of attention was a turn-on. It was better than sex.

At last, my building came into view. It was an impressive sight. The Barnes Building was a soaring glass tower, twenty stories high, and one of the most prestigious addresses in the city. I helped design it myself. I demanded a seat at the table with the architects and builders, and my input resulted in a stunning building that met my needs. If you want something done right, do it yourself. ‘Nuff said.

I turned into the parking garage and pulled into my reserved spot, savoring the rewards of success. My car, my building, designer duds, a Rolex, they were all symbols of my wealth and status. None of it was due to luck. I worked damn hard to get where I was, long hours, high-profile court cases, good investments… I was on top of the world. Now I was ready to enjoy myself. For years work had overshadowed everything else in my life. I had made a name for myself and accumulated stuff, but I had neglected the hedonistic pleasures that shaped my life. It was time to focus on the thing that lit me up. BDSM. Erotic play made me feel complete. It energized me. I just needed the right partner. Lately, I had wondered whether the man I wanted even existed. It was a tall order to fill.

I knew who I was and what I wanted -- single, gay Dom looking for a playmate, not a relationship. Nothing serious or exclusive. I wanted a man who was submissive because he loved the way it made him feel, but finding a compatible play partner wasn’t easy. In the past I’d had partners who played at being submissive so they could gain access to me. They were only interested in my prestige and money. I liked a man who was willing to work hard and make it on his own. Someone who was constantly learning and wanted to challenge his limits.

Even with my connections, it was difficult to meet men because my kink was a well-hidden secret. Submissives who were looking for a Dom wouldn’t know how to find me. It had been a long time since my Dominant side got any attention, and it had been frustrating as hell.

Until the day Aaron Marshall showed up. We had instant chemistry. Chemistry counted for a lot, but it wasn’t everything. There had to be more to it than attraction. The big question was, could we build something on that chemistry? This was such an improbable match, I couldn’t believe it was more than a fluke. But what if it wasn’t? I intended to find out because I was used to getting what I wanted, and I wanted this man.

I took the private elevator to the top floor. My suite was bright and modern, a stark contrast to my public office one floor down. There it was all cherry wood and leather, the warm traditional look I presented to the public. But the private penthouse was my home when I was working on an important case so it was all me, a personal office, sitting room, kitchen, bedroom, and a large bath, even a walk-in closet stocked with some of my favorite paddles and floggers.

I listened to my voice mail and found a message from Brett Holiday, my best friend. No need to answer it. I’d be seeing him tonight. I went into the bathroom to check my appearance before taking the back stairs to my office.
Before settling in, I walked out to the front office to greet Aaron, who was now my newest paralegal. My current office manager was teaching him the ropes, a task I planned on taking over shortly. Pun intended.

Aaron always clocked in ahead of everyone, even me. He wanted to make a good impression, and he had. The man was a quick study and very professional, but he had other assets that sparked my interest.

I never forgot our first meeting. I liked his looks immediately -- dark blond hair, hazel eyes, slim build, but his stance was what caught my attention. Aaron stood in front of my desk, his back ramrod straight, arms at his sides, head up, eyes down. His deference was flattering to the point of overkill. I saw it as a tendency to yield to the will of another. He was hard-wired to be a submissive.

We made eye contact and it was hot as hell. I pictured us having wild sex and I sensed he felt the same. The undeniable connection between us was like an out-of-body experience. That mysterious attraction couldn’t be forced. It was what I longed for, but seldom found. Calm down, I told myself. Do not hire this man because you want to fuck him.

“Have a seat, Mr. Marshall.”

“Thank you.”

I decided to test the water. “Thank you, Sir.”

Aaron’s eyes went wide but he responded immediately. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

His reaction was beautiful to behold. Being told what to do excited him. I could tell he wanted me to take control, to dominate him. Anticipation shivered along my spine. I knew an untrained submissive when I saw one. Aaron was struggling to recover his self-command, but his desire and arousal shone like a beacon in a storm. I was intrigued.

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Wednesday, May 20, 2020

Diary of a Lost Witch by Reut Barak #giveaway @goddessfish

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly dawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Visit to begin the story featured on Reut Barak's new blog

Molly is in trouble. Running away from home to escape the dangers of her coven, she ends up in Edinburgh at a time of Corona. Homeless and running for her life, she must find a new coven and get the help she needs to protect herself, or she is not going to make it back.

First Post:

Read a Blog Entry:

April 13

The weekend was long, and I ended up having to sleep outside in the park. There was one guy on gumtree that said he was able to host people, but he seemed creepy. There were two more ads that didn’t reply to my email, but otherwise, it was impossible to find a place to stay.

There is a spell called the Tent spell. It makes a small fixed space safe, invisible to the outside world. You won’t be seen or heard there, and you can use spells inside. When I had given up trying to find a normal bed for the night, I figured I might as well head for one of the parks and cast it there. The park I slept at was called Arthur’s Seat. I found some dense trees at the bottom of it, near the small lake.

Inside my “tent” I cast a mattress and blankets, which were supposed to be comfortable, but I slept horribly. I kept waking up, fearing that someone might accidentally step in and discover me. Someone mortal who would ask a lot of questions, or worse, someone with magic.

It was a relief when the morning came, and I finally opened my eyes to hear the birds, and a few runners. It was also a relief from my dreams, of the terrible things I had left behind.

I dreamt that the witches of May’s coven had found me here, and taken me back to Alice. She had a plan for me, to make an example of me for leaving.

I woke up covered in cold sweat, and sat up for an hour thinking, before I was ready to fall back to sleep. I needed to find another coven and fast. There would be a few here in Edinburgh, but unlike back home they didn’t meet in the park during weekends. At least not in the one I’d been sleeping in. I had hoped to bump into a coven that way. That would have justified my homelessness.

This morning was different, though. I was on my way back to a groceries store I found, where the kind seller let me charge my batteries so my new phone doesn’t run out of power. He’d even told me where I could find a local sim card, and I texted the new number back to my moms.

It was really early morning. The store would just be opening. I was walking down the empty streets, when I saw something.

It was a girl, about my age, walking her dog. She had a sweater with a university logo, and the dog suddenly pulled hard on the leash. She cursed, falling straight on her right knee, and then screamed from the pain and cursed again. I rushed to her to help her up, and then I saw, or rather felt something. Something inside her was spreading warmth from her heart towards that knee to heal it. And there was only one way I could sense such a phenomenon. She was using magic.

Molly Evans

About the Author:Following a short stint in the military, Reut graduated as a trained Opera Singer from the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance, and then worked in Berlin, singing church music by Mozart, Haydn and Bach. While arranging concerts in the city and managing artists, she discovered her passion for business. She joined fellow entrepreneurs in the 2013-2014 class at the University of Oxford, with a scholarship to study business (MBA), where she founds that creativity goes far beyond art. She later had a taste of corporate life, seeing the inside workings of some of the world’s largest finance, energy and manufacturing companies, and wrote for National Geographic. Leaving the world of corporate drama behind, she now pursues her dreams of becoming a fiction novelist, a self-published vegan author, blogger and youtuber. She first arrived in Scotland as a hiker, eager to explore the mysterious highlands, where she got her inspiration for her books and blogs.

Well, no not really… The true story is:

Once upon a time…

Reut was born in Camelot in the year 1201, following the famous explosion of the northern dragon tower. She has a degree in fantasy and science fiction from the University of Atlantis and this record can be found in the central library, now twenty thousand leagues under the sea. She likes phoenix riding, dragon fighting and painting the roses red. And Grimm’s Fairy Tales.


Lost Witch Blog:

Start reading from the beginning of the diary:




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Monday, May 18, 2020

A New Excerpt from The Beta's Spitfire #PNR #Romance @ChangelingPress

The Beta's Spitfire (Utopia 2) by Gale Stanley


Levi and I have always been best friends. Now he’s the pack Alpha and I’m his beta, a.k.a. the man who cleans up after his shit storms. This one is a doozy. He dumped his intended bride, and now it’s my job to take care of her while he goes off to find his soulmate. Delilah is beautiful, a real spitfire, and completely off limits. But she ignites a fire that makes my wolf sit up and howl.

I was meant to be the mate of an Alpha, so l accepted an arranged marriage with Levi. But the arrogant jerk dumped me right before the wedding. I’m no damsel in distress, so I took off for New York to live a life of independence. Along the way, I was kidnapped and my situation became desperate. When Samson came to my rescue, I never expected him to claim me for himself.


 This e-book file may contain adult scenes and language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The Beta's Spitfire (Utopia 2)
Gale Stanley
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Gale Stanley



After Levi dumped me, my father called wanting to know our wedding date. When I told him there’d be no wedding, he went ballistic. “Arranged marriages between wolf-shifters don’t fall apart at the last minute. What did you do to make Levi call it off?” 

Of course daddy dearest would blame me. It was the story of my life. My father and I never got along. He blamed our arguments on the “F” word -- feminism. According to him, equality of the sexes ruined the mating game. “Any wolf-shifter worth his salt wants a submissive wife to take care of his needs. If he can keep her barefoot and pregnant, so much the better.” If I’d heard it once, I’d heard it a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. 

Levi was just like my father. I guessed that’s why Daddy picked him for me. He thought once we were married, Levi would keep me in line. Well, the joke was on Daddy. Levi didn’t even try to tame me. I asserted my independence and Levi balked. He gave me that tired old line, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Bullshit! I was sure there was more to it. I wasn’t that naive. More than once, I smelled cheap perfume on him. I wasn’t exactly blindsided, and I wasn’t heartbroken, but I was miffed. After all, I’m a catch -- the daughter of an Alpha, I come from the Chicago Shifters, an old and very wealthy pack. 

But, like I said, there was more than meets the eye here. My spunky spirit was just a convenient excuse for Levi to break our engagement. Yes, he hated the fact that I wanted to be an equal partner in our relationship. Levi would have preferred a doormat, but under normal circumstances, he would have gone along with the arrangement for the sake of tradition. I was convinced Levi dumped me for another woman. 

I’d been in New York for weeks, living with his parents and getting to know the pack, but Levi had been gone most of the time. He might be the Alpha, but nobody has that much business out of town, especially when they’re supposed to be getting ready for their wedding. 

One thing I had learned was to trust my intuition. If I got a feeling that something was wrong, I didn’t chalk it up to being paranoid. I meditated on it and looked for signs. Levi had all the signs. He was moody, uncommunicative, critical, and he never showed any interest in sex.

 She-wolves are supposed to stay pure until the wedding, but rules are meant to be broken. My girlfriends back home all had arranged marriages, but they all fucked their grooms before they said “I do.” I had expected I would, too, but Levi had no interest in fucking me. He had to be getting it somewhere else. No surprise there. Men cheat. But I expected him to at least show some interest in me. I wasn’t exactly an ugly duckling. Even Levi’s beta had eye-fucked me more than once. Samson thought I didn’t notice, but I had seen him checking me out. I knew he was undressing me in his head and wishing he could really fuck me. It was hot as hell, but neither of us ever took it any further. 

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The Alpha’s Demiwolf (Utopia 1)

I’m a demiwolf -- half wolf, half human, and both species despise my weird mix of genes. Despite the fact I strip for a living, I’ve hung on to my virginity for twenty-two years. Until I got knocked up by a big, bad wolf. Now, I’m going to bring another demiwolf into the world, but his father will never know.

I’m all wolf, and Alpha of my pack, committed to keeping our bloodlines pure. Then on the night of my bachelor party, I hooked up with a stripper. I just wanted to teach the demiwolf a lesson, but the sex set me on fire. My wolf claimed her and now I can’t get her out of my head. But what if she won’t accept me?

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Friday, May 15, 2020

An interview with Beth D. Carter, author of Come With Me #SciFi #Romance @EvernightPub

1.What was your inspiration behind this book?
I love writing about dystopian worlds because you can basically create your own version of the future. And since I happen to like writing about women who don’t know their own strength, this genre lets my imagination soar.
2. Do you ever find yourself slipping away and becoming so immersed in your  story it affects how you relate to others?
Yes.  I’m an introvert to begin with, but when my brain is filled with how to write the next scene I can go for days and forget to call my mom or put off grocery shopping until the next day, and then the next day after that.  Before I know it, a week has gone by without shaving my legs.  Gross.
3. Are you in any of your books?
There’s a little bit of me in every book, I think.  Maybe it’s just a random thought or a gesture, but something of me is in all my characters. 

4.  Are you a plotter or a pantser?
Total pantser, although in my mind I do have an idea of where the story is headed.  My characters always surprise me when they make a one eighty from where I thought the story was going.  But as a writer you should always listen to your characters, because they’re basically your muse talking to you.

5. What is your favorite line, or scene, that you wrote in Come With Me?

I had a difficult time coming up with a title for this story. I wanted something clever but one line kept jumping from the page: Come with me. Nolan says it several times to Lainey. I eventually reached a point where I realized that one phrase meant everything.

6. If you could choose, which published author would you like to brainstorm with and why?

Lisa Kleypas because I love how she paces her novels and I’d love to pick her brain on how she plots them out. Or Julia Quinn because she’s hilarious and I have a feeling she likes wine like I do.

7. When you were little, did you ever think you'd be a published author? What was your "dream" job as a child?

My dream job as a child was being Indiana Jones.  When that didn’t pan out, I became responsible by going into the medical field. Being an author was always in the world of fantasy. I grew up in the early Eighties in the backwoods of Missouri, so no, I never thought in a million years I’d be a published author.  Thank holy heck for modern technology!  Ebook publishing opened up doors to me, and to many talented authors, to make our dreams possible.

8. What was the worst job you ever had while working towards being a published author?

I worked one day as an assistant to a urologist. I thought seeing penises all day long would be cool but come to find out, there’s a big different between thirty year old penises and seventy year old ones. 

9. And last, do you have anything you would like to say to your current readers or to those that haven't yet read your work(s)?

First, I’m a really funny person but my humor is dry, bordering on sarcastic. I put a lot of that in my stories, usually in the form of a sidekick or secondary character. Second, I write stories because I want people to read them.  I write for the love of writing.  And I love feedback.  Yes, I’m trying to make a living but nothing makes me happier than to get an email from someone saying they liked something I wrote (or if you didn’t like it, please nicely tell me why it sucked).  So drop me a line anytime to say hi…you can find me on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram:

Name 5 pet peeves that simply drive you insane.
My 5 writing pet peeves…
1. My job. When I go to my day job I have to put my writer brain on hold and sometimes that is so irritating, especially when I get an epiphany about the plot.
2. Insomnia. You’d think staying up at night would be a great time to write, but insomnia turns your brain to mush and renders it unable to string coherent words together.
3. Social Media. Need I say more?
4. My muse.  I’m hard at work trying to write out a complicated and scene and she’s like “Wait!  I’ve got this awesome idea for another story!” Most of the time she wakes me up at three am.  Bitch.
5. Character changes.  Most of the time I can envision the beginning and ending to a story, but every once in a while the ending slips away, due to the direction of where the characters take me.  When that happens I struggle a lot to maintain the plot.  I’ve shelved some great stories because of this.


Those Who Survived Part One
      Lainey is one of the few that survived the virus that ravaged the human population. In order to remain safe, she stays away from people, preferring to live on her own. Not trusting anyone. Until one night she’s attacked and rescued by a stranger who insists that there’s still good in the world.
      Nolan has a fantastical story of a new civilization in Canada, and urges her to go with him. Lainey doesn’t know if she believes him or not, but the unknown is enough to scare her away. Yet day after day he slowly breaks down her walls, opening her up to the possibility that she might be strong enough to take a chance not only on him, but herself as well.

PG Excerpt:

“You’ve amassed quite a bit of provisions.”
“I scavenged the homes of people who left. I never went into the ones where the dead were.”
“Because the houses had become tombs?”
She sat down on the couch. “For a while, when the wind would blow a certain way, I would catch a whiff of the dead. It made me want to throw-up. I think the remaining people made an exodus out of here because of the smell.”
He sat down next to her. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“Didn’t really have anywhere to go,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ve thought about leaving for a long time but always wondered where would I go? What would I face out there? Without a solid plan, it just seemed too risky.”
“And you don’t take risks,” he concluded.
“No, I don’t.”
“I was a risk.” He tapped his chest. “Bringing a stranger into your sanctuary was a huge risk.”
“You had a dozen times you could’ve hurt me,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Something tells me I can trust you and my instincts are rarely wrong. You can help me put the fence up so I’ll be protected, and then you can continue on your journey.”
“There’s another option you know.”
She cocked her head. “What’s that?”
“You can come with me.”
This was the second time he’d mentioned that, and like the last time, she shook her head. “I’m not cut out for that type of unknown. Besides, I don’t know you.”
“You know me more than you think you do. Come on, name three things you know about me.”
“I don’t-”
“I bet you could quote just about every English lit novel ever written,” he said, interrupting her. “You don’t trust that easily, but when you do, your devotion is complete.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And your least favorite color is red because it reminds you of blood.”
She blinked, completely taken aback. “How could you possibly know all that?”
He shrugged. “Observation. Come on, say three things about me now.”
“You…used to be in the navy. And you’re from Arizona.”
He nodded. “And?”
“I, uh, don’t know your least favorite color. Or your favorite.”
“I like green and hate purple,” he said. “But you got two out of three. That’s a start.”
She admired his confidence but didn’t hold out much hope he’d be around long enough for her to learn anything else about him. All the while, ignoring a little voice that had been gaining volume in her head, pushing her to do that very thing. To run. Escape. Yet fear held her back.
“You’re wrong, you know,” he murmured. “The person who would bike ride all the way

from Malibu to Sherman Oaks is completely up for an unknown adventure.”

R Excerpt:

Sex had never been that big of a deal for her, and the couple of men she’d slept with never rocked her boat. It became easier and less messy to ease the occasional sexual need herself. Draping her knee over the ledge, Lainey wished she had thought to bring a toy with her. So instead she closed her eyes, slid her fingers between her thighs, and imagined Nolan watching her as she pleasured herself.
She glided her fingertips over her skin, starting at her throat and letting the backs of her fingers trail down her chest. Between her breasts. Over her flat stomach. The water sloshed gently against her labia, providing its own stimulation.
Gently, with featherlike touches, she brushed her fingertips over her pussy lips. The tease made her hips undulate and her climax rise sharply. She wanted to come so bad, but just as she was about to let herself fall, a slight noise startled her. She jerked her eyes open and saw Nolan in the doorway, staring intently. Embarrassed, she pulled her hand from between her thighs and lowered her leg back into the water.
“W-what are you doing?” she asked, her voice dry. Heat burned on her cheeks.
“You didn’t have to stop,” he murmured.
“Uh, yeah, I did.” She tried sinking lower in the tub to hide herself. “Please. Leave.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for bothering you. But there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, Lainey. We all need to find comfort in our lives.”
She wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “Just go!”
He did, leaving as quietly as he had appeared. Rising from the bath, she quickly dried off and rushed to put on clothes, all the while chastising herself for being so vulnerable. She should never have brought him here to her home. How could she ever face him again?
That night she hid in her room, unable to go down for dinner and sit across from him. To see the smirk on his face, knowing he caught her pleasuring herself. She spent the evening writing him a letter so she could slip it under his door, asking him to leave. Hours later, when it was all quiet, her stomach kept growling with hunger. Opening her door to make sure the coast was clear, the house lay completely still and silent. She looked down the hallway and saw Nolan’s door was closed. Moving slowly, quietly, she headed downstairs for a snack, finding a granola bar and some chips. Not the healthiest, but enough to take away the hunger pangs.
Going back upstairs, she took the letter out of her back pocket, ready to slide it under Nolan’s door. However, it was no longer closed, and a low moan came from inside. The voice in her head told her to run away, go back in her room and hide, but that devil riding on her shoulder urged her forward. Step by step, until she stood at the entrance of the darkened room. Outside light filtered in, highlighting the big man lying naked on his bed. His hand gripped his cock, stroking it from base to tip. The sight captivated her, the letter forgotten in her hand. His big body arched in his pleasure, and she couldn’t help but realize he did this for her. To show himself in the most vulnerable light just as he had seen her. Lainey stepped further into the room, unable to stay back. He turned his head, their gazes locked.
“I’ve been thinking of you,” he said, his voice almost guttural. 
He held out his hand and she stared at it for a moment, the conflict inside her mind came roaring back an in instant. She knew what taking his hand meant.
Come with me.
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I began reading my mom’s Harlequin Presents in the fifth grade, and from the first story I knew I wanted to write romance novels. I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers.  I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box.  I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. You can find me on the web at: