Many thanks to Delilah for having me today!

Now. I’d like to discuss the VERY important topic of why I cannot get The Mountain Between Us out of my head, in spite of the many negative reviews. (CAUTION: SPOILERS AHEAD)

Is it because Idris Elba takes his shirt off? Partly. Really though, it’s the cabin. The cabin where these two frozen and bedraggled people stumble in, finally get a break from fighting life or death circumstances, and the bow-chicka-wow-wows ensue.

I am a total sucker for the stranded in a cabin story. Or the stranded on an island story, or the riding out a storm in a barn story, or… you get the idea. Put two people who wouldn’t otherwise be together into a situation they can only get out of with the aid of falling in love and smexy naked times, make it even a little believable, and I’m there.

As I sit here thinking about it, honestly any good trope that is well-executed (or well subverted), will get my motor humming. Enemies to lovers? Oh, yeah. Workplace romance? Forbidden circumstances? Secret baby? Yes, even the secret baby stories. Make me love it, and I’m yours.

I’m such a sucker for the tropes, that I’ve realized I squeeze as many as I can into each book, often without really trying. They’re just so delicious, I can’t stay away. For me, if one trope is the cake (which, I mean, who doesn’t love cake??), then two are the frosting, three are the sprinkles, and the more sprinkles the merrier.

Now I’m hungry. Anyone else dying for cake now?

In my upcoming book, DON’T LET GO, I’ve managed all sorts of many-layered goodness. I couldn’t be more excited. There’s an alpha male (two, actually), an emotional love-hate situation, a fake relationship, a fling, a touch of class warfare, a playboy, a protector, a run at revenge, a super-delicious May-December kind of thing, and IMO the best? A road trip, during which they become temporarily stranded (YESSS!!!).

Quite a lot of sprinkles on that cake, and I hope you’ll enjoy digging in.

So tell me: What are your favorite cak—Uh, topping—Uh, tropes?  Ok seriously, I gotta go bake a cake now, people.

About DON’T LET GO

(find it at: Amazon | B&N| iBooks | Kobo | Goodreads)

Left behind by everyone he’s ever loved, Alonzo Grover lives as if he’s got no tomorrow. The discovery of a letter from his deceased boyfriend breaks him out of his rut and spurs him to right an old wrong, but the local stick-in-the-mud sheriff’s lieutenant seems determined to ruin his plans.

Lieutenant Sebastian Haas despises tangling with his small town’s most promiscuous party kid. Alonzo’s youth and recklessness drive him crazy in more ways than one… So does the uncomfortable secret they share. But when Haas’s estranged family arrives in town to throw a wedding he wants no part of, he jumps into Alonzo’s car to avoid the family drama.

Together, they wind up on an unexpected road trip. With one setback after another, it looks like they might kill each other before they make it home to Evergreen Grove. That is, unless they find something better to do than fight.

Go get it: Amazon | B&N| iBooks | Kobo | Goodreads

Mini Excerpt:

I’m about to turn and leave when the door slams in against the wall and I find Sebastian Haas, local sheriff’s lieutenant and town hard-ass, giving me the stare down. His blue eyes glitter with the help of the bar’s twinkly fairy lights, serving me a look that’s half “Don’t fuck with me” and half “Can U Handle It?”

“Mr. Grover. Staying out of trouble this evening?”

Everything about this guy pushes my buttons. Can’t stand his perfect cop face. Can’t stand the way he pulls off the world’s ugliest green uniform thanks to a jaw that could crush rocks and a body with no signs of a donut fetish. This guy is the biggest fake goody-goody I’ve met. And I’ve met a lot of fake people in my time. The system is full of liars, let me tell you.

“Maybe you’ll want to help me get into some trouble. Eh, Lieutenant Haas?”

Yeah, I know. You’re supposed to be respectful around law enforcement. My buddy Tyler warns me all the time about the consequences of my attitude, even though I learned that lesson when I was eight. But there’s something about Lieutenant Haas.

He brings out all my ugly, as my old friend, Ruthie, would have said.

Sometimes it’s just the way he stares. He seems out of place in this little town, looking like the product of a science experiment where Channing Tatum and Matt Bomer got smashed together into one person. Then that person put on a cop uniform that fits extra tight through the backside. And then acts so uptight, he could blow diamonds from his asshole.

For real, how can a man so hot be such a bucket of cold water?

You really want it now, don’t you?  Amazon | B&N| iBooks | Kobo | Goodreads

About Elisabeth Staab

Elisabeth Staab used to be the kid who loved getting grounded because there were mystery novels in her bedroom. One day reading romances saved her life, and now she writes them, because the world needs more happy endings. Keep in touch by signing up for her newsletter, or stopping by ElisabethStaab.com.

First, thank you, Delilah, for letting me take over the blog. I’m so happy to be here!

Now let’s talk about the royal wedding. As a romance author (and reader) I feel like I’m more invested in the upcoming royal wedding than the average person. It’s like a romance book come to life. They are so adorable together; you can see their love and adoration for each other in every interview and photo they do. I wish I could post a few pictures as examples, but I don’t have the budget for it 😉

And I realize Meghan Markle is a smart and accomplished woman in her own right, but I can’t help but see shades of Cinderella in their love story. She went from a regular American girl to (in a few months) marrying a prince. Granted, in between she became a successful actress and earnest humanitarian, but still. She’s an American citizen who will be marrying a prince.

And Harry! He’s just so cute with his mischievous smile and ginger hair. He feels like the most approachable and relatable of the royal family. Between his Vegas shenanigans (playing strip pool) and his serious job in the military fighting for freedom, he has all the makings of a romance hero. (And this is making me want to write a yummy ginger military hero.)

So I for one will definitely be tuning in May 19 when Harry and Meghan tie the knot. Are you excited for the royal wedding?

In the meantime to satisfy your royal cravings, check out my new release with Loveswept, Reluctantly Royal, out now!

A bad-boy prince is tamed by a vivacious American beauty in this charming love story.

Officially, the world knows me as His Royal Highness Prince Lucien of Monaco, but you can call me Luc. A long time ago, I vowed never to let my heritage stand in the way of a good time. Now the party’s over.

With the death of my father and my twin brother, I’ve lost a part of my soul—and my freedom. My heartless older brother tells me that not only do I have to settle down, I need to marry a girl with the right bloodlines. AKA, a princess. Yeah, I’ll get right on that . . . after one last trip to Vegas.

That’s where I meet Hannah. Not only is she gorgeous and down-to-earth, she reminds me what it’s like to live completely in the moment. Plus she has no idea who I really am. Hanging out with the locals, I feel like I can just be myself again. Besides, our chemistry is undeniable—especially after we take things to the next level.

What happens in Vegas is special, and I don’t want it to stay there. But I’ve been keeping a secret that will tear us apart. The last thing I expect, though? Hannah’s been keeping a secret of her own . . . one that might just bring us together.

Buy links:
Amazon- https://amzn.to/2phApU4
B&N- https://bit.ly/2pS5G3y
iBooks- https://apple.co/2qNiYwu
kobo- https://bit.ly/2pS3yZX
Google Play- https://bit.ly/2qEgF1l

About Gillian

Gillian Archer has a bachelor’s degree in mining engineering but prefers to spend her time on happily ever after. She writes the kind of stories she loves to read—the hotter the better! When she’s not pounding away on the keyboard, she can be found surfing the couch, indulging in her latest reality TV fixation, or baking something ridiculously tasty (and horrible for her waist line). Gillian Archer lives in the wilds of Nevada with her amazing husband, gorgeous new baby, and goofy dog.

✫✫Other places to stalk Gillian✫✫
Website: https://gillianarcher.com/
Newsletter: https://eepurl.com/n3UWf 
Follow Gillian: https://www.facebook.com/GillianArcherWrites/
Tweet Gillian: https://twitter.com/gillianarcher
Add Gillian to your bookshelf: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4970467.Gillian_Archer

I’m on grandma duty today. She’s resting in the background, while I steal some time to work. Thank God, for my MacBook Air—a gift from my sister. It’s light as a feather to lug up and down the stairs as I need. Today, Grandma saw me coming with a bowl of ice cream (really, just a spoon), which she now always suspects has her crushed-up pills mixed in (sometimes it’s apple sauce, sometimes crushed pineapple). She called me a wicked witch and held up her hand to say she wasn’t going to eat a bite. She also called me Mother, so I’m not taking any of this personally. 🙂

So, while she’s dreaming about buggies and cold Montana winters (she was born in 1919, so horse and buggy were still a thing on the prairie back then), I’m taking a minute to post.

I just wanted to remind those of you who love the Texas Cowboys that the next installment releases on Tuesday. Slow Rider is very sexy. There’s some menage elements. So be warned! Not very long after Slow Rider, the next story will be coming your way. Check out the cover below! It’s HAWT!

Slow Rider

When Joe Chavez and fellow sheriff’s deputy, Logan Ross, pull over a speeding motorcycle in the middle of the night, neither is particularly shocked to find Paraiso’s wild child, Sarah Michelson, riding bare-assed naked, nor are they surprised when she invites them to join her in a sexy threesome.

Talking her way out of an embarrassing date with the county judge, who just happens to be her daddy, Sarah promises the officers the ride of their lives. Having the men turn the tables on her and introduce her to some scary D/s play, she learns some things about herself she never suspected. Too bad Joe will never see her as anything but a sexy hell cat in need of taming…

Pre-order your copy here!

Night Watch, coming February 16th!

Deputy Logan Ross knows good and well he’s got someone watching him at night, but catching his sexy neighbor in the act has proven an elusive quest. For a lawman who wants to keep his D/s lifestyle under wraps in this small Texas town, the consequences of her ever spilling what she knows are too damning to risk.

Schoolteacher Amy Keating never intended to become a voyeur, but one innocent glance into Logan’s bedroom window opened up a world of sexual play she’d never envisioned. However, when she finds the spotting scope turned on her, she can’t help but reciprocate, luring him into a sexy game of one-up-man-ship that can only lead one place, his bed…

Pre-order your copy here!

My first experience with steak pies came in the spring of 2009. My best friend from college informed me that she was leaving Auckland after a two-year stint with her partner, so I decided I’d better get there before I lost the free room and local tour guide. For those of you who’ve read The Officer’s Siren, this might sound familiar. For the purposes of this post, I’ll call her Emily (like I did in the book). Emily took me to the grocery store after my jetlag wore off, and I found a huge selection of these wonderful meat pies. Now I love cheese, and I really love meat and gravy, so the combination of both in a pastry shell had my mouth watering before I even got to the checkout stand. They didn’t disappoint! My favorite by a mile was the steak and brie pies. Australian meat pies have the meat ground, but New Zealand Pies are chunks of steak. I’ve had both, but prefer by a mile the Kiwi (New Zealander) pies. I’d definitely brave the 13-hour flight to have these again.

After returning to Seattle, I didn’t find a source for these wonderful treats until another writing friend, Maia Strong (seriously, check out her stuff – she’s awesome), took me to Pies and Pints on Sixty-Fifth Avenue NE in the Ravenna neighborhood of Seattle. Although they had the Aussie version of the meat pies, I loved the place so much, I sent my guys there in both The Officer’s Siren and in the second novel of the Rain City Tales, Past Secrets Present Danger. Sadly, after 13 years, Pies and Pints in Seattle closed in 2017, but the wonderful space, and the yummy meat pies, live on as our guys’ go-to place after work for pool, pies, and tater tots!

The second installment of the Rain City Tales, Past Secrets Present Danger, is now available for download on Amazon and Kobo today! Past Secrets Present Danger follows accountant Roger Matthews navigating his partner, SPD Officer Paul Tomlinson’s, secrets and past when he lands in the hospital after a shooting. Stay tuned for Rain City Tales Book 3: I’m Yours due out before Valentine’s Day, and Rain City Tales Book 4: The Wedding Weekend, out in May 2018.

****

You can order the first Rain City Tales story, The Officer’s Siren, here.
Checkout Brent’s website for more details on upcoming books.

Excerpt from Past Secrets Present Danger:

The pub teemed with people as they stepped inside, and Roger thought the restaurant seemed overly crowded for a mid-week evening. Paul navigated his way through the sea of chairs, holding Roger’s hand and steering him to a small table not far from the pool table, where Fred Collier waved his arms in animated conversation with Alex and Sarah Templeton.

“Not sitting at the bar this evening, gents?” The bartender, Seb, approached the table with two coasters and tossed the disks onto the table top.

Paul grinned. “No room. How’s married life treating you?”

“I think your buxom Italian wife disappointed all the women and over half the men in this place when she caught you,” Roger joined in.

Seb laughed. “Emily’s amazing. I’m still marveling at how awesome she is.” He leaned in. “Although, just between the three of us, I could do without the jogging outfits she comes up with. Love is blind, though, eh?”

As Seb moved to another table, Fred hurried over. “Paul, good that you’re here. Alex and Sarah challenged me to a game, and I need my partner.”

Eyeing his co-worker, Paul crossed his arms. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his tone wry. “Your pool-shark buddy, Mike, not available?”

Fred’s eyes widened. “It was just that one time, I swear. You were out of town, and I was in a bind.”

“That’s not what Sarah said,” Roger piped up. He loved joining in the teasing interplay between Paul and his boss, and loved even more the fact Paul’s friends and fellow officers had accepted him so readily into their circle. “She told me you constantly beg Mike to come play.”

Paul shifted his gaze from Roger to Fred. “Is this true?” he asked with exaggerated dismay and indignation.

Swinging his gaze toward Sarah and Alex, Fred glared at the couple. The Templetons exchanged glances and shrugged while smothering smiles.

Officer Jason Lynch and his husband Mike Bryant wove their way to Roger and Paul’s table.

Mike’s goofy smile lit up his face. “Did someone mention my name?”

Stifling a laugh, Roger sat back and watched the officers bicker about who was entitled to play and how often Mike was cutting in on Paul’s gig. Seb bustled over and planted his hands on his hips.

“All right, boys. If you don’t cool it,” he said, winking at Roger, “I’ll have to call the cops.”

The room filled with the roar of laughter from the three officers. Jason and Mike took the two extra seats at the table, and Roger handed his menu over to the pair.

“I’m ready to order, Seb,” Roger said.

Seb pulled his pad from his apron. “Shoot.”

“The steak and cheddar pie with a mound of tater tots.” He glanced at the beer list. “And…a bottle of Roger’s Pilsner.”

Mike chuckled next to Roger. “I’ll have the same, except I want a ginger beer.”

Seb nodded. “Paul?”

As his boyfriend and Jason ordered, Roger cast Fred a bemused grin. The poor guy was desperate for Paul to go shoot a game of pool with the Templetons, and Paul was purposefully taking his time, being indecisive about his food and drink order.

When Seb finally left the table, Fred plunked down between Paul and Jason. “Seriously, are you going to help me out, Paul?” He glanced across the table at Mike. “I’m sure there’s someone else here who’d play if you don’t want to.”

Paul leaned toward Roger. “What do you think, babe?”

“Let Mike play.” Roger grinned. “The game’ll be over in about five minutes.”

Another roar of laughter erupted from the table, although this time Fred didn’t join in. He looked like a spoiled child whose favorite toy had been stolen away.

Taking pity on him, Roger turned to Fred. “Just kidding. Go shoot one game.” Roger raised his index finger and waved it in front of Paul. “One game. You have commitments after we’re done eating.”

Heat burned through the look Paul shot him as he pushed himself to his feet. “Okay, Fred. You heard the boss. One game.”

“Commitments?” Jason looked between them.

Mike chuckled and reached his hand under the table. “Commitments.”

Eyes widening, Jason stared at his husband. “Oh. Commitments.”

About the Author

Brent Archer began writing in 2011 at the nudging of his cousins (ahem, Elle James and Delilah Devlin). His first story sold, and he was hooked! Keep up with Brent Archer and his current releases at his website, and follow him on Twitter: @brentarcherwrit.

First off, a big thank-you to Delilah for hosting me here on her blog!

So here we are in January of a brand new year. Can you believe it’s 2018? I don’t make formal resolutions for myself anymore (ugh! too much pressure!), but I do like to look at the new year for a chance to reboot my daily routines and take a look at how I can become a better writer.

One of my goals this year? To interact more with YOU, my readers. I read an article in the New York Times last fall that really stuck with me. It talked about how people need social interaction, and social support networks, to be both physically and mentally healthy. Among the statistics they cited? People who’d suffered a heart attack had only a quarter the risk of death in the next 3 years if they had a strong support network, as opposed to those without one. In general, people who are socially isolated have a higher risk for stress and inflammation, which in turn can lead to mortality risk factors like high blood pressure, a weaker immune system, and coronary heart disease.

Scary stuff, right?

And yet so many of us walk around attached to our phones, or sit in our living rooms focused on our tablets, and we forget to look up, to have a conversation with those around us, to talk and listen and engage in a very human, one-to-one way.

So my goal this year is to be more present and more engaged with the people in my life. I can’t always do that in-person with my readers, but I can chat with them online and in social media groups and I can develop relationships with them both because of, and outside of, the books I write.

All this is a very long way of inviting you to be part of my journey this year in building better relationships with my readers! Two ways I have already started:

I am resurrecting my blog, and each week I’ll put up a post that will feature a giveaway. I hope you’ll stop by, visit, leave a comment, and throw in your chance to win whatever prize I’m giving away that week.

I am also writing 4 short stories exclusively for my newsletter subscribers. These stories will be free, and they’re my way of thanking my loyal readers and followers for supporting me on my writing journey. The first story, “Look Up, Angel,” released last week, so if you’re interested in reading it, you can subscribe to my newsletter for all the details: https://eepurl.com/9TO79

Enjoy this excerpt, and then if you’d like, drop by my blog to check out this week’s giveaway. I hope you’ll become a regular there, or on my Facebook page, or simply drop in every now and then to see what I’ve been up to. In the meantime, Happy New Year! Have a wonderful 2018!

Look Up, Angel

Sometimes love is waiting for us in the places we least expect it. All we have to do is look up…

“You’re kidding.” Angela skirted a mom pushing a double baby stroller and darted across 42nd Street before the light turned red. A cab missed her by a quarter inch, hit a puddle, and splashed dirty water all over her ankles. Fabulous. She pressed her cell phone to her cheek. “Is this guy even qualified to be your cameraman?”

“He’s got some experience,” her best friend Sophie said. “At a local cable station, but at least it’s something.”

Angela glanced over her shoulder and crossed 9th Avenue. “Soph, this is one of the biggest shows of your career. And you’re letting a hometown boy who’s got — what? Two or three hours behind the camera? You’re letting him shoot it? I can’t believe Lon isn’t freaking out about it.” The producer of Sophie’s travel show freaked out about everything.

“Not like I have much choice. I’m in the middle of nowhere. This town doesn’t even have a decent coffee shop.”

Horns blared around Angela. People rushed by in an effort to get home. The marquees, the storefronts, the traffic itself, lit up Times Square. She passed three coffee shops in the time it took Sophie to complain about the lack of one in Lindsey Point. She’d never lived anywhere but Brooklyn, as a child, and now Manhattan, as a journalist fresh out of grad school. She couldn’t imagine a place without espresso and parking garages and twenty-four hour take-out.

“Well, you’re not there for too long, right?” she said.

“I’m not sure. It’s a heck of a good story, I’ll tell you that much. I might be here a couple of weeks.”

Angela turned a corner, then another, and stopped in front of her favorite Italian restaurant. She rarely cooked, and at almost nine o’clock, her empty stomach reminded her that it had no patience for her attempts to. “Listen, I’ll call you later. I’m picking up dinner.”

“This late?”

Angela frowned at her phone. “It’s not even nine.”

Sophie laughed. “Sorry. It’s just that this town closes up after seven on a weeknight. I’ve been eating dinner at six.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Sophie paused for a minute. “Call me later, yeah. I want to tell you more about my new cameraman.”

Forty minutes later, Angela arrived at her apartment house in the neighborhood of Chelsea. The building was tiny, but it had a doorman and an exquisite view, if she craned her neck and peered out one window at just the right angle. Plus she could afford it on her salary, without a roommate.

“Angel,” Mario greeted her. He pushed open the door, tipped his cap, and waited until she was safely inside before securing the door behind her.

She smiled. Her doorman was the only person who’d ever called her Angel, instead of her given name, Angela. She thought maybe it was a nickname in the place he came from, not like she knew where that was, but she guessed maybe the Dominican Republic, from his accent. He had light brown skin and a near-perfect smile.

“Coffee tonight?” He held out a paper cup from the shop around the corner.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He’d started the tradition sometime last year, soon after taking the job. She didn’t know if he gave free coffee to everyone in the building, because she kept crazy hours and didn’t see most of her neighbors, but she imagined it was a perk that came with living in a nice place like this one…

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Hi Delilah Fans! Hope you have a safe and warm holiday season. Now that all the excitement is dying down, I’ve got something to talk about.

Addiction. It’s a horror show for everyone it touches, and I’ll bet that most of you are touched by it, one way or the other. Fortunately—I guess—the addiction that touches me isn’t opiates or meth. It’s alcohol.

Alcohol is one of those ubiquitous parts of our world that almost everyone enjoys, a sociable, relaxing, and tasty treat. It’s been part of the human experience since pre-history. According to a February 2017 article in National Geographic, “Chemical analysis recently showed that the Chinese were making a kind of wine from rice, honey, and fruit 9,000 years ago. In the Caucasus Mountains of modern-day Georgia and the Zagros Mountains of Iran, grapes were one of the earliest fruits to be domesticated, and wine was made as early as 7,400 years ago.”

Plenty of evidence suggests that from the earliest days of mankind, intoxicants—especially alcoholic drink—have been at the foundation of religion, creative arts, and even the development of language. It seems that getting out of our minds actually helps us get into our minds.

That out-of-mind aspect, unfortunately, can become a serious problem for those who can’t get far enough or often enough out of their minds, and take up substance abuse as a way of life. Some even argue that substance abuse isn’t a matter of deciding anything, that compulsive consumption is an illness that we may be predisposed to due to genetics and/or early childhood experience.

It’s said that alcoholism accounts for around 88,000 deaths every year and costs the nation billions. On a personal level, suffering addiction or experiencing the troubles of a loved one with addiction is a tragedy that seems never-ending. So when I wrote alcoholism into a character in my most recent novel, Refuge in His Arms, it was a choice I made with some hesitation.

No one wants to relive painful experiences. Romance novels aren’t exactly a place where you expect to think about addiction. No one experiences difficult relationships in the same way. But alcoholism and other forms of addiction are pervasive. Characters without flaws are simply not believable.

My story isn’t meant to be a definitive analysis of alcoholism, and the character of David isn’t just about his love of drink. By the time we see him in this story, the worst of his struggle is behind him.

But like compulsive behavior for anyone, the tendency is never far away. And as David Evans shows us in this novel, when the right circumstances arise, the desire for that mind-numbing relief becomes a battle all over again.

I’m giving a discount coupon (GC48J) for Refuge in His Arms. It’s good for three days only, January 12-14, at Smashwords. If you have opinions about the issue of addiction, alcoholism, or if you read the story and have comments, I’d love to hear them. You can email me at ashworthlizzie@gmail.com.

Follow my blog for more of everything including a complete list of all my books and short stories!

Sign up for my free monthly e-newsletter, Liz’s Hot News, for freebies, pre-release deals, and much more.

Here’s hoping your shiny new 2018 is another step toward your happiness! ~ Lizzie

A few years ago, my granddaughter self-published two novels on Amazon, at the age of fourteen. I was impressed with this and decided to try writing a novel myself, after all they do say everyone has a book in them. I thought that at the very least it would be a good mental exercise for my then sixty-nine-year-old brain. How much exercise I could never have imagined.

I believed the younger generation thought most people over the age of sixty had one foot in the grave, and were just killing time until the grim reaper claimed them. But, I knew that wasn’t the case for many people, so I looked for a way to write something to show them in a positive light.

I got the idea to write a romance, with the hero and heroine being over sixty. And, I came up with the idea of my characters being residents at a retirement village that was pretty much a private 5* hotel. There was a lot of scope for activities and relationships and I was sure the idea would work.

Unfortunately, I had virtually no previous writing experience or training and no idea about planning, outlining, plotting etc. So, the book started off as a series of conversations, and developed slowly from there. Sadly, my inexperience meant that a lot of what I wrote wasn’t very good, and I had to throw away a lot of material as the book developed and the story just didn’t work properly. This meant the book took a lot longer than I had initially expected it to.

I submitted a sample chapter to a publisher to see if it fitted with the sort of work they publish, and it did. After a year of rewriting and polishing the manuscript I submitted it and ten months ago I won a publishing contract. Now, at the age of seventy-three, my debut novel, Grace’s Turmoil has been published today as Book One of a series called Not Too Old for Love.

It seems that over recent years more and more readers of romance have become frustrated that all the heroines they read about were aged about twenty, whilst they were on average at least ten years older. Now it seems that there are a growing number of authors writing for this new market, which seems to be being referred to as Seasoned Romance, Second Chance Romance, and the like. I’m proud to be a part of that growing band of authors trying to respond to this demand.

Grace’s Turmoil

Divorced and emotionally damaged, artist Grace Stollery wants nothing more than to spend her semi-retirement painting and let time heal her emotional scars.

But when dashing widower Alfred Nobel moves into her retirement village he turns her life upside down and her heart inside out by awakening feelings she wants to keep dormant.

Alfred quickly sets out to woo Grace and slowly she warms to him. But the village’s resident femme fatale wants him for herself. Will she succeed in driving a wedge between Alfred and Grace?

Get your copy here!

Excerpt

Grace jabbed at the volume button on the remote control, turning up the sound on the television. She was trying to drown out the chatter which filled the palatial residents’ lounge. It had been like that for days, and she’d grown tired of it. Who would have thought the imminent arrival of one man could affect mature ladies like that?

One of the things which had appealed to her when she moved to The Grange retirement village was the lack of men. Yet a man who aroused feelings in her she didn’t want was going to add to their number.

Grace had caught a glimpse of him across The Lounge a few months ago, taking the standard tour of The Grange. He’d towered over the young woman he’d been with, and she’d guessed he was at least six-foot-five. Built like a tank, with a mass of wavy white hair and a snow-white beard, he’d reminded her of a polar bear. His presence had been overpowering and almost menacing. An image of him defending a seventeenth century mansion in days gone by had jumped into her mind.

Looking at him had sent a spontaneous burst of attraction rippling through her. It had caught her by surprise. Becoming attracted to anybody was the last thing she’d needed right then. Her divorce had been too recent and too painful. All she wanted was to focus on her painting to block out the pain. Although she hadn’t come there to look for a man, there was no denying how she’d reacted to the sight of him. She wondered how she would cope when they met. And she couldn’t help feeling he was going to have quite an impact on her life. Whether it would be a good impact or not was the million-dollar question. He might be the greatest thing since sliced bread! Or he could turn out to be a snake in the grass like her ex-husband.

About the Author

Peter Perrin writes sweet, seasoned romances involving larger-than-life mature characters who will make you rethink your views on older people in a positive way. His characters are mature in age but not necessarily in their behaviour. They may not be in the first flush of youth but that doesn’t stop some of them acting like hormonal teenagers.

Peter was born in Romford, in the county of Essex, near London, England. For nearly twenty years he has lived with his wife of almost forty years in a quiet suburb of Swindon, in the county of Wiltshire, in England. He is a father and grandfather.

He is a former member of The Royal Air Force who has served in the UK, and in Madagascar, Singapore, and Saudi Arabia. He was also stationed for two years in Aden—which nowadays is part of Yemen.

After almost fifteen-years’ service in The Royal Air Force Peter worked in Engineering, Quality Control, and Procurement Management, not to mention myriad smaller jobs in between those careers.

Now retired Peter’s interests are Writing, Carp Fishing, and (despite being in his early seventies) PC and PlayStation games.

His favourite quote is “Youth passes, but with luck, immaturity can last a lifetime.”

Website: https://peterperrin.blog
Blog: https://peterperrin.blog
Twitter: https://twitter.com/peterperrin44
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PeterPerrin44/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/peterperrin/
Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/PeterPerrin
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B078J3NVHW