Thank you, Delilah, for hosting me on your blog today. I’m very excited to be here.

One question I get asked a lot is how I come up with my story ideas. Some are based on experiences, things I see or read, and some are based on my family.

I was so excited when my first book was published. I had worked hard on it with my editor. It was a very proud moment when I saw it on Amazon. It was a time travel romance with a handsome druid knight and modern history professor. Everyone loved the book except one reviewer. I read and re-read the critique and finally realized only a small part of the review was about the story, the rest was a personal attack. Devastated, I spoke to a good friend. A day later I had an email from a very well-published author who talked to me about reviews.

How did I turn that into a story? I used some of that review in the opening to my book Happily Ever After. Well-published author Beth Alexander has fallen off all the list and blames it on a bad review that has gone viral and the new author JD Watson, who has replaced her. She has no idea JD is the man romance covers are made of. He may have been the cause of her fall from literary stardom but only until he became her salvation!

One of my stories is about my brother and his wife. They had been married for ten years when they discovered their marriage had never been registered. Their second wedding was wonderful, but it got me thinking about what I could do with that storyline. You can find Alan and Eloise’s story—yes, I used their real first names—in How to Marry a Stuart Brother.

My most recent story, Heart of the Matter, also comes from a family incident. My mother left me her small bible that was handed down in the family. It had a beautiful mother of pearl cover. I was looking through it and found a letter. It was addressed to my mother but wasn’t in my father’s distinctive handwriting.

This was a story begging to be written. This is truly a love story that just in time for Valentine’s Day.

Heart of the Matter

Digging into the past can be murder…

Addison Moore, a well-known psychiatrist, is having difficulty coming to terms with the death of her grandmother Cookie. The woman was everything to her after her parents died in the plane crash over Lockerbie, Scotland. Little did Addy know that an old picture, tucked away in the family bible of Cookie with a handsome stranger would lead her to a discovery for which she is little prepared.

Ethan Taylor is an art historian. He’s lived with his Great Uncle Ben for a long time and would do anything for him. He never anticipated that Ben’s dying wish would introduce him to Ben’s biggest sacrifice.

Neither Addy nor Ethan are prepared for the lengths at which their families went through to keep Cookie and Ben apart. As they try to put the pieces together, they uncover a decade’s old unsolved murder implicating Cookie and Ben. Will Addy and Ethan’s blossoming love be able to stand the strain of finding the truth? Will they be able to overcome their own matters of the heart?

Excerpt from Heart of the Matter

Havenport, Rhode Island
September, 2019

The dull thud of earth hitting the casket again and again tore at Addy’s heart. Generations of Foxes filled the small family cemetery. Some died well into their old age while others died much before they ever lived, the youngest only nineteen days. Addison Moore looked out over the low wall surrounding the family graves, past the cliff, to the ocean beyond. The beauty of the day and the sailboats gliding across the water was lost on her. Addy gaped at the shovel in her hand then the half-covered casket. A movement to her right made her turn. She faced a lone man standing across the grave, bowed in reverence. She didn’t want to interrupt but couldn’t pull her gaze away. He straightened, raised his head, and she stared into the most compelling gray eyes she’d ever seen. The mingled expression of eagerness and tenderness momentarily blurred her pain, but nothing could ease her grief. Her chest tightened. She struggled for breath against lungs unwilling to operate. Beads of sweat dampened her forehead. Her pounding heart echoed in her ears. Again, she tried to take a breath. Nothing.

“Stay calm. Open your mouth,” the man demanded.

But nothing went in or came out. Breathe, damn it! The silent scream echoed in her head. Her lungs burned for air.

Her eyes flew open. Her breath stuttered. One gasp followed another. Addy gaped at the book in her hand, not quite comprehending what she held. A quick glance at the room and the cobwebs cleared. She was alone. Her body sank deeper into the overstuffed chair. Her tension eased. She took a calming breath and let the life-giving air fill her lungs. Home. Her panic subsided and details of the library came into view. The safety of her family’s old Victorian house, Fox Hole Manor, held her close.

The memory faded until it became a lost dream. Only fragments of the disconnected emotional panic permeated her psyche. She rose and put the psychology book, The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg, in one of the many boxes scattered around the room. The bookcase with several empty shelves stared back at her like a boxer’s smile with several missing teeth. She made progress, slow, but progress nonetheless.

The hint of ginger floating on the dusty air made her turn toward the hall. A smile spread across her face. Her grandmother. Many people would expect a robust woman with gray hair, and perhaps an apron and the aroma of freshly baked apple pie coming from the kitchen. Not Addy’s grandmother, who stood tall, sleek, a well-dressed woman with short light auburn hair streaked with silver, and sporting only a touch of make-up.

“Make sure the shelves are dusted and the floor swept. I don’t want the historical society to think I didn’t keep a clean house. Besides, you never know when company may arrive.”

Everything had a place in Cookie’s house, including the twist ties lined up in the kitchen drawer. The woman kept every book, note, piece of paper, everything. Cookie considered herself organized, not compulsive. More often than not, their ongoing discussion, with examples, brought them both to tears.

Fox Hole Manor was one of the oldest homes on Manor Road, an area where the old guard lived in their grand mansions, an extension of the magnificent estates across the causeway in Newport. The children of each generation found a closeness and a tie that lasted a lifetime. They were civic-minded and politically active, with Havenport at the heart and soul of it all.

All those years ago, Edythe Emerson, of the annual Halloween Masquerade Ball fame, and Cookie rallied the other residents on Manor Road and established the Manor Road Christmas Cookie Exchange. One hundred percent of the proceeds went to the Havenport Historical Society.

Nothing was done small on Manor Road, not even the annual Christmas Cookie Exchange. Cookie and Edythe decided on the themes for their houses and each year added touches and refined the décor. The Emersons decided on an elegant Victorian Christmas. Her grandmother branded her event Cups and Cookies at Cookie’s, which brought peals of laughter from everyone. Her grandmother put her heart and soul into decorating the house and handled this event with the same attention. Each meticulously decorated room on the tour represented a different faith’s winter celebration.

Hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon and pungent ginger cookies greeted each visitor entering the Garden Room. The cups and cookies were always arranged on the table with precision. Yes. Everything had its place. No one would ever accuse her grandmother of a messy house.

The outside of the house, with its welcoming front porch and strategically placed flowerpots in place of railings, was just as important to Cookie as the inside and made Fox Hole Manor at Christmas a mecca for tourists. A must-see stop during the holidays. People came to watch the live deer that magically stayed on the lawn, the 1936 red Cadillac convertible filled with wrapped gifts parked outside the front door in the circular drive, and hear holiday music playing from strategically hidden speakers.

“I’ll make sure everything is neat and clean,” Addy said. “Is there anything else?”

“Concerning yesterday,” Cookie said.

She gave her grandmother a withering glance.

“There’s a finality in shoveling dirt onto the casket. The task takes a lot of love. I’m proud of you. All-in-all, the funeral was well-attended.”

Addy shuddered and searched for her cup of tea without success. “Please find another topic. This one creeps me out.”

Cookie raised a finely shaped eyebrow. “Should we discuss you finding a husband?”

Addy’s eyes welled up.

“So you made a bad choice. Live and learn. I think you should have waited. Neither of you knew each other very long.”

“We lived together for two years. I thought we knew each other very well.”

Another of Cookie’s stares meant to intimidate almost comforted her.

“You came to your senses before the wedding.”

Addie came to her senses a year ago. Her grandmother had it right, as usual. Don’t settle. Wait for the right man.

“It’s time for you to move on. Find your destiny.” Cookie leaned against the door frame. “What’s-his-name was an okay guy. I even liked him until you rushed here and cried in my arms. Afterwards, I pretty much hated him. Has he stopped calling you?”

“Yes,” Addy lied.

Cookie gave her a stink eye.

“Why the evil eye?” she asked, sounding like a high school teenager.

“You are aware Kenneth doesn’t believe the two of you are over. He doesn’t think sleeping with his secretary for the last year of your relationship has anything to do with you. The very obtuse boy thinks you have cold feet, not a cold heart, and doesn’t believe you’ll ever find a better man than him.” Her grandmother’s voice was quiet, but deadly. “I’m holding you to your promise. You’ll wait for the right man. Are you listening to me? Not just any man, not an okay man. The right man. Your destiny.”

Addy nodded. The words were etched in her brain, Cookie said them so often, even well before Kenneth Kendall made it into her diary.

“Was Grandpa Sky the right man?” She could play the deflect game, too.

Cookie smiled one of those wistful smiles loaded with silent meaning, said nothing and headed down the hall.

Addy followed, intent on getting an answer. She entered the kitchen. Empty. Her heart sank. Last Friday’s paper sat on the table next to her cold half-empty cup of tea.

“This is the story of Dr. Jessica Fox Jordan. Jessica was a wonderful woman who was loved, is missed, and will always be cherished. Called “Cookie,” by her only granddaughter, Addison Moore and a privileged few close friends, “Honey,” by her husband Skylar, and Jessie to everyone else, was an amazing wife, mother, grandmother, psychiatrist, and baker of the most amazing cookies. No one could bake a better ginger cookie than Jessica. Attendance at Fox Hole Manor for the Manor Road Christmas Cookie Exchange proves my point. Jessica Fox Jordan was the only child of Madison and Mildred Fox. Madison Fox was the colorful and flamboyant founder of the privately-owned Fox Brewery. Jessica is predeceased by her husband, Skylar; her daughter, Agatha Jordan Moore; and son-in-law, Phillip Moore. She is survived by her granddaughter, Addison Moore.”

The sense of loss hit her hard all over again.

“I miss you, Cookie.” A nervous laugh sounding more like a croak escaped her lips. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

Buy Link: Amazon Kindle Unlimited 

I love the fall. I don’t know why. It’s not that we have much fall weather here. And I prefer when the flowers are in full bloom and the extended daylight hours. I enjoy the warmth of the sun on my skin while walking in the park. In essence, I’m really a summer/spring girl, but I don’t dislike fall.

Fall is fun. With fall comes the warm tone colors of browns, golds, and oranges—all colors that I look fantastic wearing. Well, some browns and a few oranges, but that’s a story for a fashion post. I like to think of fall as the beginning of the festive season. Typically, spring is seen as the season of rebirth; it’s said that mother nature springs to life. (See what I did there?) But if one thinks about it, it’s the fall that things happen that people get moving. Fall is where everything starts booming and falls into place. (See, that I did it again?) Before anyone disagrees, think about it.

In the U.S., it kicks off with Labor Day—the official storage of white clothing. At least, traditionally, that was how it used to be prior to the invention of “winter white” and “I wear whatever the heck I want.” Kids go back to school with the latest uniform fashions. (Being a high school fashion icon is no longer what it used to be and slowly becoming a relic.) Television fall lineups premiere. Usually, there’s a string of fall festivals/Oktoberfests. Pumpkins start appearing and then transform into jack-o’-lanterns. (Does anyone used that term anymore?) Things start to get spooky with the anticipation of Halloween.

Actually, the spook factor is no longer a given with more and more people opting for cute and over-the-top sexy as opposed to ghoulish. People gorge themselves on chocolates and candies (not once or twice, but several times during this season). People get jovial with pranks and having someone make the hair stand on the back of their necks.

Then, there’s a shift towards focusing on family and togetherness and the commercialization of buying overpriced gifts that no one needs, and spirals buyers into debt. In the meantime and in-between time in the U.S., there’s a huge feast fest where no turkey is safe that mainstream media—but not the Board of Education—basically ignores. Dinner tables are stacked with Grandma’s sweet potato pie and Aunt Helen’s (everyone has an aunt Helen) stuffing.

On a side note, when I was in grade school, we got two days off for Thanksgiving—the holiday and a day of recovery from gluttony… Well, that and the fact many people traveled to see family. Nah, the teachers just wanted the day off. Now, kids get the full week and adults are promised earlier and earlier bird sales. What started as opening early at 7:00 AM or 6:00 AM long ago was scaled back to 5:00 AM, 4:00 AM, 3:00 AM, midnight, Thursday evening. Anymore and “Black Friday” will begin November 1. And let’s not forget: Cyber Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. At this point, it’s all ridiculous in my opinion.

But this joyful (for many) time is saturated with nostalgic movies, tall trees with branches sagging from ceramic ornaments, snowball fights (or so southerners are told), and more food (and weight gain). Good will becomes a theme, and red kettlebells can be heard ringing across cities. There are tree lightings and parties after parties. By now, people are calling it winter.

There’s lots of buildup, and before long, Christmas has come and gone. There isn’t much time to recuperate before people drink themselves into a new year with a hoard of self-promises (you know, a.k.a., resolutions) that they break within a month.

Lurking not too far around the corner is V-Day. (No, the other V-Day and not the one that happened on May 8, 1945.) I’m talking about the red heart, baby wears a diaper and shoots pink candy arrows at folks (allegedly). Yes, I’m speaking of Valentine’s Day, which leads us to the present. (Talk about a dissertation for an intro. I think I’ve outdone myself.)

I’ve always known Valentine’s Day to be a crazy bipolar type of day. By bipolar, I mean the mood of most people/shops are to the extreme. Either people love or loath this day. Some consider it one huge money grab, and from the way it is promoted, I honestly can’t disagree. Locally, schools and businesses have limited, restricted, or even barred deliveries on this day. I remember my school office looking like a funeral visitation for a dignitary. Balloons, flowers, and stuffed animals covered ever available surface space. My understanding is that the situation has grown worse, and on Valentine’s Day all deliveries are redirected to tables erected in the gym. Students are allowed to visit at lunch to see if they have a treat and only remove anything after the final bell. A teacher is posted throughout the day to monitor and guard deliveries. Reportedly, public schools have taken steps further and disallowed any school deliveries but allow the student council to sell Hershey’s Kisses and paper heart cutouts.

During my time (to make myself sound antiquated), this was a day of great distress. Students with overly indulgent parents, puppy love-stricken significant others, or birthdays close to that date would hit the jackpot. They would be loaded with so much loot that they had to make multiple trips to load all their goodies into their cars. Other students were left feeling unloved, forgotten, and abandoned as they received nothing. Most times, their feelings were unjustified. Flowers are expensive, and not all families could afford large bouquets, especially for parents with several children. And it wasn’t like today where one could make a run to Walmart or even the dollar store and purchase a bouquet for a couple of bucks. And other parents were clueless. (That would be me.) Who would think to send a kindergartener a dozen roses? Yes, parents did that. Talk about peer pressure at it’s finest. I felt horrible having not thought to send my five-year-old anything and having her see all the other kids with gifts. For what? She didn’t even like flowers. I took her for a Happy Meal that afternoon, but you best believe the next year I didn’t forget. But where I work, they make Valentine’s Day baskets filled with chips, a soft drink, and candy for a reasonable price.

But let me tell you what I think the ultimate Valentine’s Day gift is. It is showing kindness. It is being there for others. It is taking an extra step to make someone feel wanted and loved. And this isn’t something that is done one day of the year. It is something that is done throughout the year. It is an action that should be shown and expressed daily. Because one day, there will not be another Valentine’s Day.

Over the years, I’ve received Valentine’s Day gifts, and honestly, I don’t remember most. But I do remember the day when I was still in high school when thunderstorms cropped up without much warning. Either the meteorologist had missed it or it didn’t show up on his radar. That afternoon, it was pouring. Few people had come to school prepared. When I exited, I saw my father standing with an umbrella, waiting for me. Not only had he thought about me, he’d taken the time to act. That is something I’ve never forgotten. Now that he’s gone, it’s one of my most precious memories. And that day wasn’t Valentine’s Day.

So, the message is don’t look for love in one day. Don’t only store the sincerity of feelings in diamonds and flowers. Many people make wedding vows and exchange rings only to pawn them after a bitter divorce. Flowers die. Chocolates can grow stale and mold. But true love in action is trapped in our hearts and extends into eternity. Have a happy Valentine’s Day.

For more of how I write, my stories, and my shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. And speaking of giveaways, I have one coming soon in celebration of my new steamy, sports romance, Ice Gladiators, guaranteed to melt the ice. It’s the third book in my Locker Room Love series. Ice Gladiators is being released February 15, 2020. Check her out. If you like makeup, you won’t want to miss this beauty of a prize.

Taz has problems: a stalled career, a coach threatening to destroy him, a meddling matchmaking roommate, and a thing for his other roommate’s boyfriend. The first three are manageable, but the last… well, that’s complicated. Because as much as Taz is attempting not to notice Liam, Liam is noticing him.

New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou. If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors.

Missed the two books in my sports romance series? No frets. Out of the Penalty Box, where it’s one minute in the box or a lifetime, out is available at https://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. Visit www.books2read.com/penalty. Defending the Net can be ordered at www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance.

UPDATE: The winner is…Delaine McLafferty!
*~*~*

I just looked at my blog calendar and realized I booked out every date until the 22nd! No playdates for me! 🙁

So, we’d better make the most of today’s post! While I’m gone, writing my book and clearing the junk from my office, please enjoy meeting my guests! But today: Play, and maybe you’ll win a $10 Amazon gift card!

Reminder! Enter to win these open contests while you can!

1. Flashback: Cochise (Contest–3 Winners! Plus an Excerpt!) — This one ends tomorrow night! Free story, 3 winners!
2. My New Hell — Office Chaos (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
3. Puzzle-Contest & 2 Reminders! — Win an Amazon gift card!

Scavenger Hunt

Send answers to the following questions to me privately
via email at delilah@delilahdevlin.com!

1. Have you read any of the recent releases shown on my Home page? If so, which ones?
2. Take a look at my Upcoming/Coming Soon page and let me know which stories you would like to read!
3. On my Series page, what title is Book 13 in my Night Fall series?
4. Also on my Series page, in which series do you want to see more stories written?
5. On the Short Stories page, which cover intrigues you most?

Have fun! ~DD

Thank you Delilah for this opportunity to showcase my newest release, Karma’s Slow Burn, about a sports journalist and a pro-ball pitcher turned chef. This incorporates my second and third passions: food and baseball.

This book is out of my hands now and out there, finally! Each time this happens, it is a thrill. Which I why I keep doing it. I’m actually exhausted by the planning and slotting of promos this requires. Which means I’m less inspired to write which in turn pisses me off. Which brings me to the eternal mystery: Why am I doing this?

Ah yes, I bloody love it! Things are quiet now before a new storm of promos hits me early next week. I will be googly-eyed after that. Still grabbing the time here and there to work on my next contemporary romance, the second in my East meets West series, 100 Acres of Separation: The Princess and the Cowboy. The first, Bollywood Blues, is somewhere out there, and I’m waiting for that boomerang to hit me any time now.

I know many of you are seasoned writers comfortable navigating NetGalley and Edelweiss, but I will not be using NetGalley or Edelweiss for my next book. It was a waste of money for me (as an unknown writer) and all stats and testimonials should be taken with a hefty pinch of salt.

Karma’s Slow Burn

Karma’s Slow Burn, only $0.99, new release!
Buy Links:
www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZJSZD5X
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/957769

Sportswriter Karma Huntington is going to hit Rafael Henley, star pitcher for the Sliders, hard to avenge her husband’s death. Rafael cannot ignore the chemistry between them and decides a one-night stand is in order. Karma agrees. Just to get that itch off. But once they get into each other’s pants, things get complicated. Revenge and guilt take a back seat with sizzling chemistry in control. Rafael likes willowy blondes and women who don’t look to him as their protector. Yet here is, lusting after the complete opposite: petite, raven-haired, Karma with a rose tat running up her neck. Can Rafael overcome the dark secret he hides and give in to what his heart wants? Will Karma finally admit she needs Rafael?

Excerpt from Karma’s Slow Burn: X-rated

Henley got back the very day the Sliders swept the White Sox. He got in late but Karma heard him anyway. She was reading, her face illuminated by the light from the e-reader. She put it down when she heard the door click. He came in, kicked his shoes off and sat down next to her, sighing deeply. She knew the feeling. He was happy to be home.

“I see you were up to the challenge.” He undid the top four buttons on his shirt and un-tucked it.

If he took his shirt off she was going to scream. Or jump him. It all depended. She was not going to ask him if he had eaten or if he wanted a drink. She was not his maid or his wife. He could very well get anything he wanted from his kitchen.

“Yep, I was. Great trip sweeping the Sox.”

A smile bloomed on his lips. “Indeed it was. Thanks for making it happen.”

“No worries. What are friends for, right?”

“So I’m a friend now?” He stood up and unclipped the cufflinks, pecs flexing, drawing her eyes to them.

“You’re not a lover. And friends cannot be lovers. That’s rule number 5.”

“In what book?”

“In my book of life.”

“What’s rule number 4?”

“You’re not an enemy. Enemies cannot be lovers either.”

He frowned then a smile twitched on his lips. “Hmm. Good to know.”

“Wait a sec! What was the smile all about?”

“Oh, just that I’m not enemy so I can be a lover.”

“No way!”

“That’s what you said. I heard you clearly. You said and I quote, ‘You’re not an enemy. Enemies cannot be lovers.’ I distinctly heard you say it.”

“Yeah so?”

“It means I can be a lover.”

“Yes a lover, just not mine.”

“You will not admit defeat.” He turned away from her. “Going to hit the shower. Be right back.”

His shirt flapped open as he walked away, patches of tanned skin flashing at her, leaving her hungry for more. She knew she should skedaddle out of there while she still could. But she was moored to the sectional, an unusual lethargy invading her limbs. Henley after a shower would be impossible to resist. She was a sucker for challenges and this one had her name written all over it.

Rafael stood in the doorway to the corridor leading to the bedrooms, watching Karma as she stared out into the night, her e-reader by her side. She’d gone way beyond a simple favor. And she’d done it, no questions asked. Karma was beautiful and he wanted her in his life. She was loyal and honest, all five feet nothing of her. From the top of her ebony head, down her luscious body to the tips of her delicate feet, she was in his dreams all the time.

He had to accept it. He had to forget the past. What was done was done. She was gorgeous and brave. He wanted her. He craved her touch. And right now all he wanted was to take her in his arms and make her disappear in them. Kiss her sexy mouth and see her with the lights on. That night had been unforgettable. It was not a one-night thing for him anymore. He had a hunch it wasn’t for her either. Her kiss told him that. He wanted to be buried deep inside her again feel her slick velvet folds clench around him and relieve him of this sweet torture.

He came toward her. She turned her head and watched him approach. He wondered if she was wearing the blue lace thing under the black satin top. Her hair was loose and hung down her back in soft waves. He wanted her body on red satin sheets, black hair fanning out and legs spread out for him to feast upon, her brown eyes watching his every move.

Hot desire welled up in him. His dick thickened. From his towering height, he looked down at her. Gray eyes hit her smoldering dark ones pulsing with black and gold flecks. Wisps of her irresistible scent lit sparks and fanned the embers of his desire into a raging fire so hot he took a step back. It would consume him. He would devour her. She would make him forget who he was.

It was what he craved.

He dropped to his knees by her side.

“I want to break the deal, Karma.” He heard her take in a sharp breath. “What happened was not a one-night stand for me. I dream of you all the time, of burying myself deep in you. I can’t forget that. I want to touch you again. Taste you again. Sweetheart, this is not something I can forget.”

He didn’t know it but the endearment was the third strike against her disintegrating defenses. She fell into his arms. He wrapped them around her and she disappeared.

“Rafe, break it then.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

And the deal was toast.

*~*~*

Fireflies in the Night

Literary Fiction, winner of the 2017 Next Generation Indie Book Award; Best Books of 2016 by Kirkus Reviews; Starred Kirkus Review; Finalist Foreword Reviews Indie Fiction Award. A historical, coming-of-age novel.

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HZS28CW

The Enemy Within

Literary Fiction; Women’s Fiction

-Profound, Heart-Wrenching Story 4.5 stars, Amazon.com: Recommended for the mind and the soul

– Intense and Beautiful Look at Life, Love and Purpose, 5 stars, Amazon.com: From the familiar of India to the total unfamiliar of Quebec, Canada, where emotionally unsupported by her arrogant, selfish and traditional new husband, Sita must chart a way for herself through the myriad of problems being a different coloured, different cultured immigrant brings.

-Beautiful but heartrending, 5 stars, Amazon.com: …covers a multitude of issues from the iniquity of arranged marriages to the racism inherent in Quebec’s society to the rivalry and jealousy in the academic world.

Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01N6QVRHJ

About the author

Nalini Warriar dreamed of being a writer then forgot the dream for a bit as she went on to garner a Ph.D in Molecular Biology. While in her lab, the dream came back and hit her on the head and she’s never looked back writing through her years as a scientist. After more than a decade in cancer research, Nalini returned to the creative part of her soul and now devotes her time to dreaming up the perfect alpha male and feisty woman to appear in her books. Her novel, Fireflies in the Night, was a Foreword Reviews Fab Award finalist and won the Next Generation Indie Book Award in 2017. Kirkus Reviews awarded Fireflies in the Night a starred review and named it Best Books of 2016. Karma’s Slow Burn, a contemporary romance will be released in February 2020. She’s working on her next romance, a Crenshaw Brothers book, to be released in 2020. She lives in Ontario, Canada.

Author Links:
www.facebook.com/authornaliniwarriar
www.amazon.com/author/naliniwarriar
Twitter: @nwarriar

UPDATE: The winner is…Ani Stubbs!
*~*~*

Contest Reminder!

Just a quick reminder that there are still two open contests running on this blog! Be sure to enter while you can!

1. Flashback: Cochise (Contest–3 Winners! Plus an Excerpt!) — Win a free book!
2. My New Hell — Office Chaos (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

Sale Ends Soon!

And another reminder! The first book in the Danger Zone trilogy is on sale for only $0.99! If you haven’t already scored your copy, do so now! Because I’ll be setting the price back to the original one tomorrow! Click on the cover to get yours!

The Puzzle-Contest!

When my daughter peeks into my new office/craft room, she shakes her head and says,  “It’ll be Christmas before you have this all sorted! How can you stand it?”

When I quoted Einstein she wasn’t impressed. I could almost hear her thinking, “Mom, you’re no Einstein!” Pfft.

The move continues. My dd has one of the kid’s bedrooms mostly complete. There are boxes and garbage sacks full of things to unpack everywhere. My office desk isn’t cleared, but it is “sorted”. I know where shit is anyway. And I did manage to organize all my magnets on my filing cabinets. Really, that’s all I’ve accomplished so far. Oh, and I cleared a path to the coffeemaker. Priorities!

Today’s puzzle is supposed to inspire me. Ha! If only it could be this easy!!!

Contest: Solve the puzzle, then provide me another nugget of decluttering wisdom for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

 

Psst! Just a reminder that there are three contests still running…
Enter while you can!

So, I’m still buried in “stuff” in my new office area. My desk is still a disaster, but I will tackle that today. In the meantime, my dd is tackling her massive move, ten boxes at a time. She fills boxes at her place, brings them over, puts the stuff away, then takes them back for the next load. Of course, she’s still moving around the furnishings that remained in the house to suit the new arrangement for her children. Since I’m old (**cough**), I’m excused from helping her move her things. But I do things like dishes that need to run through the dishwasher before they’re put away in the cabinets, laundry, etc.—and my workload, since my job still has to be done.

While all that chaos is happening around me, Brian is shaping up. I’m offering you a peek inside the first scene of the book, so you get to meet Brian before he was injured. I hope you like it, and again, if you haven’t already pre-ordered the book, here’s the link: Brian.

I’d love your feedback. I’ll think about offering up an excerpt from Raydeen’s point of view soon as well. Remember, the book releases February 24th!

Brian

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

Physical Therapist, Raydeen Pickering, has seen her fill of stubborn veterans, some too angry to get on with their lives, some still living in hell in their minds, and some unwilling to let their broken bodies hold them back. She hasn’t figured out which Brian Cobb is yet. The first time she met the handsome, wheelchair-bound man, he was wary and defensive, his gaze always sliding toward the door, looking for a quick escape from the Soldiers’ Sanctuary meetings.

Even now, there’s something about the ex-Army MP, now bounty hunter wrangler, that sets him apart from the other men she’s helped mend. There’s something more–not just the haunted look in his eyes or the still set of his shoulders. The way he looks at her when he thinks her attention is elsewhere gives her hope that she’ll reach him, and that he’ll let her help him regain more of what he’s lost.

First though, he has to figure out he’s in love with the wrong woman. The one he needs is right here, and if she has to do the chasing, so be it, because those looks he gives her have rekindled a fire she thought was lost forever…

Excerpt from Brian…

Sweat trickled down the sides of Brian Cobb’s face. His helmet felt heavy on his head, his pack dragged on his shoulders, and his boots were so hot he was walking in pools of water. The transport vehicles his squad had been promised hadn’t arrived, so they were hoofing it back to camp with half a dozen prisoners chained in a line. Still, their plight was better than the infantry platoon’s they’d left a click back. Once they’d given the ISIS fighters into Military Police custody, they’d headed back to continue their sweep for insurgents hiding inside the village with the unpronounceable name.

“Hey, Corncob,” Private First Class Benny Sanders said as he walked beside him.

“You know I hate that nickname, Sanders,” Brian muttered.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, his smile stretching across his dark face. Benny jerked his chin toward the slender figure striding ahead of the chained prisoners, her dog Tessa walking, unleashed by her side. “I see how you look at her. Are you and she…?”

Brian gave Benny a glare. “No. We’re just friends.”

“She have a boyfriend back in the States or something?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Huh. Just thought since you two spend so much time together…”

Brian shook his head. “We’re friends. We hang. That’s all.” Not that he would mind if their friendship grew into something more. He’d had a thing for Jamie Burke since they’d met during their first drill together back in Kalispell, for what felt like eons ago. Jamie was certainly easy on the eyes with her wheat-blonde hair, lightly tanned skin, and golden-brown eyes.

However much he might have wished it otherwise, Jamie had assigned him to the “friend zone”—and because he valued their friendship, he’d never acted upon his attraction. Perhaps once they were back Stateside, he’d work up the courage to ask her out.

He’d played a multitude of scenarios in his mind of how he’d go about doing it without blowing their friendship to hell should she shoot him down. Not one of them felt like the right fit. Sure, they had lots in common—they loved playing basketball and soccer, liked working out, liked animals, were both from western Montana…

Well, maybe they didn’t have that much in common, but they could certainly build on what they shared now. Maybe he needed to figure out what she liked to do outside of the military, what her hobbies were, whether she liked to dance.

He liked to dance. He could imagine asking her out for a beer, just buddies going for a drink together. The music would start up, and he’d hike an eyebrow. She’d give a laugh and say something like, “If you don’t mind me stepping all over your toes,” and he’d lead her to the floor. Once he held her in his arms, maybe then she’d see him as someone she could consider as dating material…

Ahead, Tessa gave a whine and moved away from Jamie, her nose going to the ground as she searched the trail they walked, moving from one side to the other.

They’d left the village and were following a well-traveled trail that led through rocky hills. The area had been cleared of enemy combatants, so they’d been ordered to march the prisoners back. Still, the danger didn’t have to come from a sniper on a hilltop.

Jamie held up her closed fist, and the squad drew to a halt. Brian looked to his left. “Benny, keep an eye out,” he said, indicating the hills behind them.

The squad leader, Sergeant Milligan, strode up to Jamie. “What’s the holdup, Burke?”

“Don’t know yet, Sarge,” she said. “Tessa hasn’t indicated yet.”

Tessa moved ahead of the formation but lifted her nose from the trail and ran back to Jamie, her tail wagging.

Tessa reached down to give her a pat. “Must have had a whiff of something, but I think we’re cool to move on.”

However, Tessa gave another whine and sniffed the air. A moment later, she left Jamie’s side again, this time heading down the row of prisoners toward Brian, her nose to the ground, sniffing the trail then moving slightly off it to Brian’s right. She whined and moved closer to Brian.

Brian glanced around him. Tessa was a trained bomb dog. An IED might be nearby. But where? The rocky outcropping beside him caught his eye.

“Cobb!” Benny whispered.

He turned to glance at Benny, whose eyes were large. He tilted his head toward a hillside in the distance. Brian didn’t glance at it directly. “You see something?”

“A glint. Then some movement. Might be one tango.”

Brian had a bad feeling. “Jamie, call your dog back,” he said, keeping his voice natural, “I think we’ve got company.”

Sergeant Milligan began moving his way. Brian smiled and shook his head, trying to act like his heart wasn’t racing and his stomach hadn’t dropped to his boots. “Better keep back, Sarge,” he said, keeping his tone carefree. “I think there’s an IED in the rocks beside me, and Benny spotted movement at your three o’clock.”

The sergeant’s gaze betrayed his concern. “We have his buddies chained in a line. Maybe he actually gives a shit about them. How about you move forward, Cobb? Sanders,” he said, calling out to Benny, giving them both a strained smile. “You move, too. Get his friends between you and him. But move slow and natural. Don’t let him know we know he’s there.”

Although every one of the squad members was aware of the threat, they began to patter.

“Man, I can’t wait to get back to my bunk. Mama sent brownies. Got a few left.”

“No, you don’t, Packer. I snuck the last one when you were showering.”

“Shithead, you better not have.”

“Hey, Tessa,” Jamie called to her dog, indicating with a finger toward the ground that Tessa should move back to her side.

The dog ran back, turned in a neat circle, and sat beside her feet. Jamie’s gaze went to Brian. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her gaze shifted toward the rocks as she said, “Brian, you and I have a rematch to play against Pike and Sherman. Better hurry your ass up.”

Brian gave her a crooked grin, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

A shot sounded, and Benny dropped to his knees, his head sagging toward his chest.

Brian took another step, but sound exploded then went suddenly muffled. He felt something hammer against his lower body, felt searing pain, then he was flying, everything moving in slow motion, clumps of dirt and flares of fire, tumbling head over heels until he dropped with a sickening thud on the trail.

He couldn’t hear voices, but he saw movement—Sergeant Milligan pointing toward the hill and signaling for two men to move out and engage with the sniper; Pike kneeling beside Benny, who still knelt on his knees, blood gurgling from his chest.

Jamie’s face entered his vision. Tears filled her eyes.

“I’m okay,” he shouted, then pointed at his ears. “Can’t hear though. And I’m feelin’ a little…dizzy.” Okay, a lot, but he didn’t want to worry her.

Sergeant Milligan knelt beside Jamie, talking into his radio. Someone else moved to the opposite side of him…Kinsey, the medic. His back was to Brian as he leaned over his body.

Brian tried to get up on his elbows to tell him the problem wasn’t with his legs; it was with his head. He couldn’t hear, but then he glanced downward, past Kinsey.

His boots were gone. Then he realized…so were the feet that had been sweating inside them.

He drew a deep breath and glanced up at Jamie.

She was mouthing words he couldn’t hear, cupping his cheeks. When she bent and kissed his cheek, he knew he was dead. “I’m not fucking dying,” he tried to shout, but he knew it came out a whisper because he was weakening, barely able to keep his eyes open.

The wind pulsed against his face, and he opened his eyes, saw the helicopter above, a fiery trail of rounds blasting toward the hill before it wobbled in the air then settled on the sand beside the trail.

He raised a hand to point toward Benny. “Him first,” he said, glancing sideways, but Benny was no longer kneeling. He lay with his eyes open, staring up at the cloudless blue sky.

Kinsey moved away, and Brian glanced down. Tourniquets were on his legs, below his knees. He glanced at Jamie. “They find my boots?”

Her face crumpled, and Tessa wiggled her way in between Jamie and Sergeant Milligan. Her tongue lapped at his cheek. Her cold, wet nose nuzzled his ear.

Any other time, he would have pushed her away, but Brian no longer had the strength. “Hey…they find my boots?”

UPDATE: The winner is…Jennifer Beyer!
*~*~*

Contest Reminder!

Here’s a quick reminder that there are still two open contests running on this blog! Be sure to enter while you can!

1. Story Cubes — Tell me a story (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Flashback: Cochise (Contest–3 Winners! Plus an Excerpt!) — Win a free book!

Office Chaos

So, if you’ve been paying attention to this blog, you know that we lost my mom on January 10th. Now, while we wait for probate to move along, my daughter is moving into the house.

We thought we’d have a little time for an organized move, which included me downsizing my footprint inside the house. I had three rooms—a bedroom/living room area, a large craft room (which was a hoarder’s dream filled with every art supply imaginable!), and an office. I am giving up my office (I volunteered it!) so that all of my dd’s children will have their own bedroom.

The problem? I have too much stuff. And I don’t want to give up a thing. Although, over the last weeks, I have filled trash bags to take to the donation center and the dump. Still, I have too much stuff.

We now have permission for my dd to move in. So she has shifted into high gear. Her first priority? Clearing my office so she can move her son’s things in. This is what it looks like when you cram two rooms of things into one when you don’t have time to skinny everything down first. My basement craft room is filled to the ceiling. The only spot of calm in the entire room is the picture my dd framed for me on the wall above my desk of “Satan Resting on the Mountain” from Milton’s Paradise Lost by Gustave Dore. It’s almost like he’s looking down at me and laughing.

But wait. That’s just one side of the room. It gets worse!

And I didn’t take a picture of what is behind me…

So, as you can see, I have an enormous problem. If I had a week of dedicated time and minions to do the physical work, I could get it done. Maybe. As it is, I have a book to finish, one editing job due by the 10th, more scheduled to come in the door soon, and stories to read for the next Bad Boy anthology. Work is priority #1.

I will only have an hour or two a day to dedicate to making my workspace liveable, and I’ve hired my dd’s oldest girl to be my minion (she’s saving for a car, so very willing!).

Today, my only goal is to clear my desk…

Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, how about you give me suggestions or calming mantras. And no, “load it into a trash can” advice, because my dd says that every time she walks into this awful space!