It’s the day after Labor Day, and I’m having to come to terms with the fact the pool is cooling. Sure, we’re going to have 90-degree weather this week, but the shorter days mean longer nights where temps in the 70’s are going to spell the death of another swimming season. I hate, hate, hate giving up my daily swims.

Is there something you hate about the changing season, summer to fall?

My daughter’s ready not to sweat. She wants sweater weather. She wants to put up the Halloween tree and decorations (our Halloween tree is a counter top metal tree that we hang Strangeling Ornaments from). Fall is her favorite season and her reason is two-fold: relief from the heat and Halloween!

Is there something you love about the changing season?

And while you contemplate those questions, here’s a sneak peek at Before We Kiss…

A hand settled at the back of her neck. Fingers played with the tendrils of hair that slipped from the clip she’d used to secure her up-do. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Wiley shifted in his chair, moving closer toward her, while maintaining his conversation with Captain Lundt regarding his training and the ships he’d commanded before being hired by the Countess line. Polite conversation, but his questions were intelligent. All the while, he touched her lightly, keeping her in that state of awareness that had continued unabated since he’d dragged her to the ground outside the bus. Was this attentiveness all part of the act? Ensuring the other passengers and the crew, not in her father’s pocket, believed a romance had been struck between them? And they’d believe it. He’d lost his hat, his scruffy beard. Tonight, he wore a white button-down shirt and dark slacks—looking as handsome as a man straight out of a romance novel. The breathy sighs and interested stares from the women seated at the tables around them said they were buying the story, hook, line and sinker.

Poppy had no doubt where this was leading. Him in bed with her. That was inevitable, but was that result because he wanted to be there, or because he wanted to insert himself into her life aboard ship to keep her safe—and amenable to his care?

She wished she knew. She really did. But she admitted to herself the outcome wouldn’t change a thing. Once they returned to her suite, clothes would drop. Period. Needs she’d denied for too long would be addressed. Desire tugged at her belly, and she pressed her thighs together. She had no doubt he’d be well able to see to her pleasure.

Again, he shifted. “Have you seen enough?”

His warm breath brushed across her cheek. She knew what he meant. The meal, served in courses, had been splendid. The menu plentiful and varied. Service itself had been impeccable, and the dining room beautifully appointed. The lighting was perfect, but subdued. Music played in the background, but nothing that would draw passengers’ attention from their conversation at their tables. “Yes. This has been nice.” She smiled at the three older gentlemen who weren’t very good at pretending that they weren’t tracking Wiley’s every gesture. They each fought knowing smiles. She cleared her throat. “I suppose we could excuse ourselves,” she whispered, angling her face to meet his gaze directly.

His dark eyes studied her expression. His mouth tightened. “Then let’s make our farewells.” He moved away, pushed back his chair, then stood to help her from hers.

The other men at the table rose, the captain’s eyebrow rising as his gaze went to Wiley.

But since she wasn’t looking at the man whose hand rested possessively at the small of her back, she didn’t know what his expression might have conveyed. Instead of worrying, she took the time to shake the Marines’ hands and wish them a good night.

Once they’d departed the dining room and made their way down the long corridor toward the elevators, she drew deeper breaths, trying to calm her heart rate. She was really doing this. Sleep with a man she’d just met.

When the doors slid shut with a whisper, he took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You tired?”

Her chance for an out—if she wanted to take it. She swallowed. “Not particularly.”

“Good.”

Silence stretched between them. When the doors opened, they both stepped out, and maybe they walked a little more quickly, but she didn’t mind. She already had her card key in her hand when they reached the her cabin’s door.

He waited as she opened it then followed closely behind her. When he closed the door, he touched her upper arm. “Wait here until I have a look around.”

“Right,” she said, hating the reminder of why he was really here.

Minutes later, after he’d checked both bedrooms, baths and the balcony, he returned to her and turned the deadbolt. “All’s clear,” he said softly.

At his downward glance, she wet her lips, anticipating that now they’d kiss.

But he gently cupped her shoulders. “Before we kiss…”

So he had been thinking about it, too. She raised her gaze to his.

“I just wanted you to know a couple of things.”

She nodded, but otherwise she kept silent. He would tell her he wasn’t the type to stick around. That she shouldn’t read too much into the fact they’d be making love. This encounter wouldn’t be love…

“I never cross lines. Usually, I don’t fuck the people I protect.”

Her mouth dropped a little at the f-word, but only because he’d been so blunt—and she hoped he wasn’t changing his mind about making her the exception. “I get that.”

“No, you don’t.” His brows creased. “You’re pretty. And female. Which doesn’t happen often in my job, but that’s not even why I’m here.”

Her mouth was drying. Maybe she ought to shut it before she blurted something humiliating. Like, we can talk…after.

“I just wanted you to know, that if you weren’t the job, I’d have been all over you by now.”

The way his voice deepened to a rasping growl told her everything she needed to know. First, that her neglected sexy bits didn’t need direct stimulation to grow aroused. Second, he was just as ready as she was. But while he was wrestling with his conscience, she wasn’t nearly as conflicted. Frank had abandoned her. She’d grieved long enough. She wouldn’t deny herself the pleasure of the well-muscled man in front of her.

Holding her gaze, he bent toward her.

Watching as he descended, she tilted back her head. But at the last moment, she reached up and pressed a finger against his mouth. “Before we kiss…”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You should know…” She bit her lip. “I haven’t been with a man other than Frank.”

He gave a sharp nod, but since she hadn’t removed her finger, he still held back.

“I have high expectations,” she whispered, then slowly dragged away her finger.

For Serious Readers: Let’s play a game…

Who Am I?

My hair’s a mess and I’m still in my robe at 4:30 in the afternoon. I have dark circles under my eyes and around my arm pits. I’m surrounded by a guilty mountain of discarded candy wrappers and a pill-inducing Mount Everest pile of … books.

That’s right.

I’m a book-aholic.

Lest you think my affliction is limited to the luscious inky smell of the print version of the seductive species, you would be wrong.

I have two kindles, an iPad, an iPad mini and a Nook reader. I’m seriously considering buying a KOBO reader, but I would need to stop reading long enough to get my credit card, type in all that delivery information an order the thing.

That’s right.

It’s a serious affliction.

And I love it.

Books are like my air. I breathe to read—wait—no—that’s not right. I live to read and I read to breathe. No. That’s not right either…

Whatever.

You get the picture. It’s in a book.

That’s right.

I’m seriously crazy—about books.

The thing is—no one takes it seriously. I hide it.

If someone’s comes over, I’ll dress. Comb my hair. Hide my book in my blouse.

If I go out, I read on my phone. Pretend I’m texting. I wear a hat and a long coat with deep book-filled pockets. It gets hot in the summer, but whatever. I keep my secret.

No one knows I chain read.

That’s right.

I’m a chain-book-reader.

My basement is filled with old books and I built an addition to the garage out back to store more. I’m running out of GBs on my hard drive and I’ve taken to the cloud where I have a commercial storage package.

If Amazon had a VIP high roller club, I’d be a platinum member.

That’s right.

Amazon knows my name.

Who are you?

That’s right.

I want to know what book you’re reading.

Beachcomber Heat

This summer’s heat wave on Martha’s Vineyard is breaking records–and so is the crime wave. A rash of jewel thefts creates a demand for more security than the police can handle.
Shana insists that Beachcomber Investigations take a case to protect the Gable’s jewels because she’s desperate for the big fee from their rich client.
Dane will do almost anything to keep her happy–and to keep her with him on the island.
Almost anything.
But the case turns dangerous when a dead body turns up and they find their ruthless old enemies are behind the thefts. Dane has to decide how far he’ll go to catch the thieves–and how far he’ll go to keep his partnership with Shana.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Stephanie Queen loves to play games—don’t take her seriously. Unless you want to read her books. She writes the romantic detective series BEACHCOMBER INVESTIGATIONS. The stories include some humor—no kidding—and lots of sizzle and suspense. You can find out all about her and her books at StephanieQueen.com.

Thanks for letting me visit with you, Delilah!  I write both dark, twisty mysteries and lighter, amateur sleuth stories. A shorter story with some heat sounded like a fun addition to the lineup. Alex Montoya is a secondary character in So About the Money, the first in the Holly Price/So About…series. Alex may have been a bit volatile in So About the Money. He simply needed the right woman to help him become the adult he’s capable of being. A bit of nagging from his character led me to write his story—MALBEC MAYHEM.

With all the fabulous wineries located in eastern Washington, choosing a rising star vintner to challenge him seemed a natural fit. Alex and Sofia understand the importance of family—including the joys and challenges associated with running a family business. They simply have to figure out a way to make their hot-blooded nature work for them.

Mix a Spanish chef with an Italian winemaker and create some mayhem—MALBEC MAYHEM.

Successful restaurateur Alex Montoya’s charmed life has hit a snag. His trusted business partner turned out to be not exactly trustworthy, and Alex could be facing jail time over some of his partner’s shady financial deals. As if that weren’t bad enough, creditors are calling in loans he didn’t know he had and he’s desperate to prove his innocence before all his businesses are repossessed.

After a career-building stint in Napa Valley, Sofia Pincelli has returned home to eastern Washington to take over the family’s winery. Running the family business, however, means dealing with her ailing father’s constant micro-management—and his disapproval of Alex. Her father’s condemnation of Alex’s rumored involvement in his business partner’s schemes runs so deep, it threatens Alex and Sofia’s blossoming romance…along with the Pincelli family’s signature red wine. Sofia needs Alex’s crop of Malbec grapes to show her father she has what it takes to make award-winning wine—and save the reputation and finances of the Pincelli winery.

When the Malbec grapes go missing, Alex and Sofia must join forces to find the fruit before it spoils—or risk destroying both of their businesses and their hearts.

Get your copy here!

EXCERPT

In this scene, the bank has threatened to call Alex’s restaurant loan. He’s reeling from that news when Sofia demands to know, Where are the Malbec grapes?

The argument ends with a twist:

Alex stalked to a file cabinet, jerked open the top drawer and grabbed a scrap of black lace. He threw the panties at her. “You might want these ‘delivered’ too. You left them here the other night.”

“Oh for God’s sake, be serious.” Sofia rolled her eyes and thrust her fingers into her hair.

“Why?” He tried to ignore the way her upraised arms pushed her chest forward. “You’re the one who wanted a ‘fun’ relationship.”

“I’m talking about business. Business is serious.”

“What? You like the sex, but not me?” The file cabinet drawer slammed with a satisfying whack. “What is it with you women?”

“It isn’t ‘us women’. It seems to me, it’s you. You have a problem with intelligent women.”

“Bullshit. I prefer intelligent women.”

For a long moment, she studied him. Then she plucked the panties off the floor and stepped toward him. A smile hovered around the corners of her mouth.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes, glaring, more to keep her on-guard than to warn her off. Usually he liked not knowing what she’d pull next, but she loved a challenge—and to win—as much as he did.

She also liked make-up sex as much as he did.

“Nice shirt.” She trailed a finger inside his collar and paused at the first button. “You should wear this color more often. It sets off those gorgeous brown eyes of yours.”

She worked open the button. “Your olive skin…”

Desire rippled down his spine. “Thanks.” He eyed the open door behind them. Not that he cared who walked in.

She leaned closer. Her full breasts brushed his chest. Warm breath tickled his ear and sent a message straight to his groin. A cool scrap of fabric slid into his palm and her fingers closed his around the silk. “You might want to keep these.”

“Oh?” He managed to keep his tone merely interested while heat flamed through his body. If she kept this up, he could sweep all the papers off his desk. Or there were the chairs. The floor. Up against the wall…

“You keep up that crappy attitude though.”

His brain recalibrated. Problem, problem…

Soft lips brushed a series of kisses against his jaw. “And it’ll be a while before you see a new pair.”

That zinger delivered, she pivoted on her heel, and strolled out.

About the Author

Cathy Perkins started writing when recurring characters and dialogue populated her day job commuting daydreams. Fortunately, that first novel lives under the bed, but she was hooked on the joy of creating stories. When not writing, she can be found doing battle with the beavers over the pond height or setting off on another travel adventure. Born and raised in South Carolina, she now lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.

You can also visit her online at the following places

Amazon – Malbec Mayhem at Amazon
Goodreads –  https://www.goodreads.com/Cathy_Perkins
Twitter – https://twitter.com/cperkinswrites
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCathyPerkins
website – https://cperkinswrites.com
Amazon author page – https://www.amazon.com/Cathy-Perkins

Not long ago I was discussing one of the sub-plots in my latest release When a Marquis Chooses a Bride with someone, and they were surprised to hear that human trafficking had been going on for over two hundred years. They thought it was a modern problem. In fact, it’s been going on for over a millennium, but I will focus on the Regency era.

As readers and writers we tend to idealize certain periods in history, and the Regency is one of them. We focus on Mayfair and think that all parts of England were safe, when even Mayfair, the most exclusive area of London was not truly safe. Not only were there slums that even soldiers thought twice about entering, but predators roamed the town.

Well-bred ladies were admonished not to walk or ride alone for good reason. It was not uncommon for young women just up from the country to disappear and wind up in a brothel. After that, most of them could not return to their families. Why? Because the women were blamed for their situations and their families would not take them back.

Children as young as four and five were kidnapped and made to work for thieves because if caught, they would be transported and not hung.

There were private charities that helped both women and children, but they were few and far between. Many people in government believed that the poor, even children were responsible for the way their lives turned out.

In When a Marquis Chooses a Bride, the heroine, Dotty, is one of those ladies who worked at improving the lives of people caught in bad situations.

A furious female voice Dom knew well rose above the rabble. “He is only a small, hungry child. You will not arrest him.”

Thea. He should have known. Quickening his stride, he swiftly arrived at the gathering of street cleaners, vendors, and the merely curious. The small crowd of onlookers parted for him. At the middle of the scene was Thea squaring off with a sturdy-looking farmer. An underfed, filthy child of perhaps six or seven years clutched an apple in one grubby hand and her skirt in the other, clearly recognizing her as his savior.

“How much for the apple?” she demanded of the farmer.

“That ain’t the point, miss,” the man said belligerently, spittle flying from his mouth. “He’s a thief and deserves to be punished.” The child ducked behind Thea as the farmer leaned to one side. “Hanged or transported.”

Thea’s chin rose as she stood her ground. “I am not saying he was right, but you might steal too if you were starving. The law in this case is too harsh.”

Dom’s cravat threatened to choke him. The law she referred to was one he had supported.

When a Marquis Chooses a Bride Blurb

Thanks to their large extended family and unconventional courtship, The Worthingtons have seen their share of scandal and excitement. But nothing has prepared them for this…

The Dowager Lady Worthington isn’t quite sure what to make of country-girl Dorothea Stern. As the granddaughter of the Duke of Bristol, Dotty is schooled in the ways and means of the nobility. But her sharp wit and outspoken nature has everyone in a tizzy. Especially their cousin, Dominic, the Marquis of Merton.

Prematurely stuffy, Dom was raised by his cheerless uncle to be wary of a host of things, including innovation, waltzing, and most perilous of all: true love. Still, there’s something about Dotty, beyond her beauty, that Dom cannot resist. But the odds are against him if he intends to win her as his bride. Will he choose loyalty to his family—or risk everything for the one woman he believes is his perfect match…

When a Marquis Chooses a Bride Buy Links:
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/1OPiCIK
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/1oP58HL
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/1ILP9mR
B&N: https://bit.ly/1QTj93N
Books a Million: https://bit.ly/1QrfpkA
Kobo: https://bit.ly/21HhiAL

About the Author

Bestselling author Ella Quinn’s studies and other jobs have always been on the serious side. Reading historical romances, especially Regencies, were her escape. Eventually her love of historical novels led her to start writing them. She has just finished her first series, The Marriage Game, and her new series, The Worthingtons, began in April 2016.

She is married to her wonderful husband of over thirty years. They have a son and two beautiful granddaughters, and a dog. After living in the South Pacific, Central America, North Africa, England and Europe, she and her husband decided to make their dreams come true and are now living on a sailboat cruising the Caribbean and North America. Europe is next!

Website: www.ellaquinnauthor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/EllaQuinnAuthor
Twitter www.twitter.com/ellaquinnauthor
Blog https://ellaquinnauthor.wordpresscom

Delilah, thanks for having me over today.

So last year at RWA in NYC, my publisher made a statement that they are looking for sexier cozies. If you know cozy mysteries, they’re mostly low on sex, low on gore, and high on fun.

Then they pushed the envelope. They said my new release was going to be the first in this new experiment. Which made me nervous. How hot were they looking for? Would I disappoint them? And could I write a hotter cozy? I’m kind of a slow steam girl. Even the romances I’ve written are considered mild in this world of 50 Shades.

I sat my editor down and asked her straight out. What are you expecting?

Her answer comforted me. Whatever the story needs and whatever you’re comfortable with.

That’s why I love writing for my publisher. They get me.

After that Spotlight, several mystery authors reached out to me. Apparently a lot of people have been writing sexy cozies, but haven’t been able to find a home for the stories at a traditional publisher. The world of publishing is changing and this is just one example. The writers are out there for all kinds of different books, and the readers are waiting for new experiences.

And so A Story to Kill has a strong reunion romance trope. I even added in a Benjamin Braddock moment for the couple. But it’s not all about the relationship. It’s about the writer’s retreat Cat is starting up in her hometown now that she inherited the Victorian from her ex-husband. It’s about the college and the characters who work and study there. And it’s about the library which plays a big part in the town and the book.

If you haven’t tried a cozy mystery before, I hope you take a chance on the story.

Lynn

A Story to Kill

Former English professor Cat Latimer is back in Colorado, hosting writers’ retreats in the big blue Victorian she’s inherited, much to her surprise, from none other than her carousing ex-husband! Now it’s an authors’ getaway—but Cat won’t let anyone get away with murder…

The bed-and-breakfast is open for business, and bestselling author Tom Cook is among its first guests. Cat doesn’t know why he came all the way from New York, but she’s glad to have him among the quirkier—and far less famous—attendees.

Cat’s high school sweetheart Seth, who’s fixing up the weathered home, brings on mixed emotions for Cat…some of them a little overpowering. But it’s her uncle, the local police chief, whom she’ll call for help when there’s a surprise ending for Tom Cook in his cozy guest room. Will a killer have the last word on the new life Cat has barely begun?

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, Lynn Cahoon is an Idaho expat. She grew up living the small town life much like the settings she now writes. Currently, she’s living with her husband and two fur babies in a small historic town on the banks of the Mississippi river where her imagination tends to wander. Guidebook to Murder, Book 1 of the Tourist Trap series won the 2015 Reader’s Crown Award for Mystery Fiction. Find out more at: www.lynncahoon.com

Links:
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Story-Kill-Cat-Latimer-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0190HGVK6/
Goodreads –https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5857424.Lynn_Cahoon
Twitter – https://twitter.com/LynnCahoon
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/LynnCahoonAuthor
website – https://lynncahoon.com/
Amazon author page – https://www.amazon.com/Lynn-Cahoon/e/B0082PWOAO/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1