In December, this Southern girl packed a 26-foot rental truck with all my worldly possessions, hooked up a car trailer, and left Alabama, my grown children, friends, job (and oh yes, my ex-husband) and pointed the car/truck contraption to a destination 1,300 miles west. To a new life and a new adventure—the physical journey known! The life journey and ultimate outcome, not so much. As I was climbing out of my car through the window, fielding questions from my midnight, dog-walking neighbor inquiring if I was moving, I looked down at my “Follow your Dreams” T-shirt and for one last time questioned my decision to move west. That’s another story. Let’s just say reading is a valuable skill and the importance of reading instructions, even on your T-shirt, is underappreciated. 

My dog and I left the sultry south for the wild west. We successfully managed to drive and admire the American landscape for that 1,300 miles in the largest, longest vehicle I have ever driven. No one was maimed, no gas pumps blown up, and I didn’t get lost. We even managed to navigate the Dallas traffic without incident. I felt on top of the world. I could do anything. I was invincible. 

My string of good fortune continued. The universe had more than just smiled on me. I had the best friends that sheltered me as I settled in and played find-a-house in a hotter than hot market. They fed me local favorites, served me champagne from the local winery, and showed me around town. I fell in love with my new home state of New Mexico. As a curly-haired Southern girl, frizzy hair has been the bane of my existence. No one ever told me about the miracles of the moisture-less air out here. “Come to New Mexico for amazing hair” should be the state motto. The hiking, the Hatch green chilis, the many bounties of this state are extra. 

Until the snow. 

It all started last week. The weather forecasters were in a fever pitch. The Super Bowl of weather was coming. They got major airtime. It was going to be cold. The conditions were perfect for accumulation. I lived in the city. I was a veteran of hurricanes. I had boots, gloves, and a long down jacket. I was invincible, have I mentioned that? Winter watches were posted for days. I was excited for snow. It was supposed to start after midnight. I waited up. At midnight, I threw open the doors, the artic blast created instant goosebumps, and the dog and I plunged into the darkness. We gazed up. Nothing. Not even the spectacular universe of stars was present. No precipitation from the sky. Deflated and shivering, I headed to bed. 

My alarm roused me from dreams of a winter wonderland. I bounded out of bed, tossing the comforter and three blankets to the floor and threw open the drapes. Nothing. I trudged to the kitchen, started the coffee, and let the dog out. Wait. There was something falling from the sky. It wasn’t perfectly formed works of art. It was more like ugly little ice shards. The weather people lied. Where was my first snow? The fluffy, pristine white miracles of Mother Nature that made you want to curl up by the fire with a hot drink and hotter book? Ice. Hmm. That possibility never entered my mind. How do you drive in that? Luckily, there was nothing on the streets. My commute to my new job—oh, another story—was without incident. The feeling of being robbed of a milestone event lingered as did the sleet. 

Throughout the morning I wandered past the windows, assessing the weather situation. People started leaving around noon. As the parking lot emptied, I noticed there was ice. I heard a passing comment of “Got to get the ice scraper out”. That got me thinking and wondering, “What’s an ice scraper?” and “Why isn’t there a winter storm prepared checklist?” Just then my email dinged with a note from the Safety department. I was supposed to wear my boots to the office then change into regular shoes. Note to self as I looked down at my winter boots. I did not dare venture out for lunch. What was I thinking? Did I not follow that thought through – like I wouldn’t have to drive home? I hunkered down in my jacket and boots working at my desk, apprehension growing. 

My trips past the windows grew in frequency. It was bleak outside. The wind was blowing great gusts of ice, and dare I call it snow, around the lot and building. Where was the picturesque, magical snow? Where were my co-workers’ cars? How do you drive in ice? Visions of news stories from the great Birmingham ice storm flooded my mind. By three, my excitement for snow was completely extinguished and fear of the commute home made work impossible just as the Director of Safety walked past. She noticed me. “What are you still doing here? Haven’t you seen the roads?” I explained that I was new and this was my first winter storm in town. She stopped and gave me a quick overview of winter driving: go slow especially around corners, leave lots of room between cars, and don’t brake when you slide. And I thought driving cross country in a pseudo tractor trailer was daunting! 

I made it the 1.7 uphill miles to my house, again without incident. The invincibility feeling was not coursing through my blood like previously. I was cold, hunkered down in my house looking out wistfully, grateful to be home safe. The pantry was not stocked with hearty foods. Spring mix lettuce ruled the fridge along with a nice bottle of Gruner Veltliner. Apparently, I was still a shopping southern girl. Night fell on the confused Southern girl with the meteorologists still predicting snow. 

The alarm roused me the next morning well before sunrise. I headed to the kitchen for coffee. I didn’t need to turn on the light to see. The moonlight was reflecting off the most exquisite pale powder in my back yard. I ran for my boots and bathrobe. The dog danced at the door. Warm coffee in hand, I opened the door. I didn’t notice the steam coming off my drink or the frigid air blasting. The stars sparkled. It was blissfully still and quiet. Mother Nature had pulled out all the stops. It was all I had imagined. The dog raced through the accumulation like a puppy, barking. Flurries were still falling. It was breathtaking (not just from the temperature). I tossed my head back, twirled, stuck my tongue out to catch snowflakes, and laughed. I threw a snowball at my dog, missed! And, OMG, just missed an attractive, bathrobe clad man, who was peering over the wall at us. I pulled my bathrobe back tight and looked again. No neighbor. My dog didn’t bark. Was there a man or not? The bathrobe had been identical to mine, also loosely tied. I tiptoed over and peeked over the divider. There were definitely tracks, but no handsome man?!? No way I could have imagined that? Could I?

Work had been postponed by several hours. I had a free morning. I turned on the gas fireplace, snuggled into my favorite chair with a steamy novel, and mused about my experience as I finished my second cup of coffee. Yes, there had been a neighbor. No, not possible. But the tracks. Yes. He had been there. I think. 

For the first time, the girl felt like a Western girl, the journey wonderfully unpredictable with endless possibilities. 

I hope the winter storms that have been ravaging the country find you safe, warm, and reading your favorite authors. I had the most fortunate opportunity to contribute to Passionate Ink’s Falling Hard charity anthology. It’s a collection of seven erotic short stories that benefit Proliteracy.  

Check it out if you are looking to discover new authors and stories ranging from historical to paranormal to contemporary. It’s available at Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. Also take a moment to learn about the wonderful work of www.Proliteracy.org. 

What are you reading and how are you coping with the winter weather? I would love to hear from you.  

Thank you to Delilah Devlin for letting me post on her site and reach her fantastic readers. 

XoXo
Candy 

About the Author

Candice LaBria is a writer of erotic romance short stories and a member of Passionate Ink. She is on Facebook facebook.com/CandiceLaBria, and Instagram and Twitter @Bria_Writes. Her website is www.CandiceLabria.com.

***

Girl in Snow photo credit
Photo by Brooke Lewis from Pexels

UPDATE: The winner is…bn100!
*~*~*

Let me tell you a little secret…

Plot bunnies—affectionately named because of how fast the little suckers multiply—are persistent bitey jerks that burrow into a writer’s brain and attempt to take over their mind at the expense of jobs, dentist appointments, and laundry—which is fine, because who needs laundry. *wink*

These evil plot bunnies wake me from a dead sleep to scribble illegibly in a little notebook I keep on my nightstand, leaving me to interpret my drowsy jotting in the morning like I’m staring at Rorschach inkblots. Hey, Stephenie Meyer dreamed up sparkly Edward Cullen one night, inspiring the bestselling Twilight Saga, so it’s not totally off-base to get a good one once in a while.

To be fair, it’s not just paid writing that works this way, since I’ve had the same experience with fan fiction ideas; fic that demands it be written right now. Have a sandwich for dinner, family—I’ve got writing to do!

Once a plot bunny has its fangs in you, it’s all over until you give in to its demands like it’s a bank robber with all the leverage.

Plot Bunny: “Hey. Hey. Hey. You know that thing you’re working on right now?”

Author: *guzzles coffee* “You mean the novel I’m finishing because I’m on deadline?”

PB: “Throw that in the trash. I got something for ya. You’re gonna love it.”

A: *groans* “Not again.”

PB: *cracks knuckles* “So, there’s these two hot guys, only one bed in the whole hotel, and wouldn’t you know it, there’s a blizzard…”

This was my experience last year when I got my weekly email with freebies from a stock photo site. I opened it and scanned the selection—probably the usual “woman laughing while eating a salad”.

But one picture caught my eye: two women side-by-side in a yoga studio, doing a stretch that looked like cobra or upward dog. Nothing out of the ordinary, but something about it…

Hmm…I’d never written a story set in a yoga studio. Maybe they’re friends?

Wait. Friends or not, they’re totally gonna get with each other if they haven’t already, if you know what I mean.

*CHOMP*

The plot bunny grinned, it’s teeth glistening with the fresh idea. I had no choice—I needed to write this now now now now now!

The opening line hit me hard: The first time it happened was between my legs in downward dog.

Oh yeah, I wanted to see where this was going. So, I sat my butt in the chair and feverishly typed while overloading on caffeine and ignoring my eye twitch. Words flowed like a vinyasa, and when it was finished, I knew it would be perfect for an anthology submission.

My evil plot bunny…um…story, Third Time’s the Charm, is in Cleis Press’s Big Book of Orgasms Volume 2: 69 Sexy Stories, available on February 8, 2022.

To celebrate the Big Book of Orgasms Volume 2 release, I’m giving away an ebook of another anthology I was lucky to be a part of last year, Passionate Ink’s Falling Hard: Erotic Romance Anthology. If you haven’t read it, grab it now, since it’s only available for a limited time. All proceeds go to ProLiteracy, too! My story in Falling Hard is Hard Cider Crush, a gay second chance romance full of all the autumn charm of New England and more heat than July in Florida.

Enter below to win an Amazon ebook copy of Falling Hard—U.S. only, 18+. Giveaway will last from February 9^th—11^th and a random entrant will be drawn on February 12^th to win and receive a copy. (Delilah Devlin isn’t associated with this giveaway.)

Question: Tell me about the best book you’ve read recently in one sentence. Or tell me where you’d love to see a romance set!

About the Author

Ryley Banks writes award-winning bestselling sexy romance between the covers, mostly of the LGBTQ+ variety. She’s a connoisseur of tea and gin and loves language, especially creative profanity. When she’s not begging her characters to behave or reading fan fiction, you can find Ryley at: https://ryleybanks.com/ and everywhere at: https://linktr.ee/ryleybanks

Enjoy getting to know Ryley? Then you’ll love her monthly VIP newsletter! Sign up for access to free books, giveaways, sales, and exclusive member extras! https://ryleybanks.com/ryleys-vip-newsletter/

Contest

a Rafflecopter giveaway

I’m thrilled to be on Delilah’s blog today. I loved working with her on the latest Boys Behaving Badly anthology – COWBOYS. Writing my story, THE SCOUNDREL, reawakened my love of writing short stories, and I plan to continue writing short as well as the full novels I write for Entangled Publishing, and the series I self-publish.

Early in my career, I wrote a lot of erotic romances. It was ground-breaking back then (God, I feel so old!) and this was long before Fifty Shades. I’m not kidding when I say discovering erotic romance changed my life. I grew up a “good” girl in a rural area. Before the internet, before erotic romance, I didn’t know other women had sexual fantasies. I didn’t know it was okay to fantasize about blindfolds and handcuffs, or of being scared and aroused at the same time, or that pain and pleasure could be two sides of the same coin. I didn’t know it was okay to dream about sexual situations I’d never want to find myself in. Or that it was okay to dream about some I might want to.

I’m sure as Delilah’s readers, you know all about erotic romance and sexual fantasies, and it’s probably hard to imagine there was a time when you had to get your kicks from magazines like Playboy and Playgirl (and you had to gather enough courage to go up to the man at the register and ask for copies that were kept behind the counter) or maybe you could find erotica books like The Story of O or Anne Rice’s Beauty series, but I never read them until I could get them over the internet. But once I could buy an eBook in the privacy of my own home, it was a revelation. Suddenly, I wasn’t ashamed to explore my fictional fantasies, and I felt free to act on some of them, and I could even begin to write my own (believe it or not, it was a struggle for me to even type words like “cock” and “pussy” when I first started.)

I didn’t intend this post to be a history lesson, but just to explain that I will forever be grateful for the authors of erotic romance, and while I don’t focus my writing exclusively in that direction anymore, I will never stop writing it, never stop sharing my fantasies for other women to enjoy. And that is a long, and hopefully thought-provoking lead-in, to my newest release, one of 69 erotic shorts included in Cleis Press’s The Big Book of Orgasms, Volume 2, releasing on February 8^th, and available for pre-order now.

Publisher’s Weekly said “… 69 bite-size stories ideal for a quick, sensual break. Myriad settings—including alien planets, bathrooms, and sex parties—genres, kinks, and sexualities offer a little something for every erotica lover. Standouts include Natasha Moore’s “A Perfect Match,” about a husband who likes to watch his wife with her lover…” My first PW mention! And tons of sexual fantasies to explore.

Contest

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to share with you today. I’m giving away one digital copy of one of my earlier erotic romance series, Paolo’s Playhouse. Five novellas in one collection that let readers explore several different fantasies.

Comment below for a chance at the giveaway. I’d love to know if you think erotic romance is getting commonplace now. Are readers tiring of it? Do you get enough of the sexy stuff in your other reading? Or do you still look for those stories that focus on sexual fantasies and, through them, give women freedom and power?

Natasha M.

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My name is Raisa Greywood. I write contemporary romance. I waver back and forth between dark and comedy, but hey, life is too short to pick just one! I also write paranormal romance under the pen name Minette Moreau.🐉

A question I’m often asked is, “How/why did you start writing?”

I don’t think I’m unique—every author has been asked this at some point in their careers, and probably more than once. The answers are as individual as the authors.

The how is easy—and incredibly difficult at the same time. One simply parks their backside in a chair and…

Wait! You mean there are grammar rules? What the heck is past perfect and why do I need it? Character development? Plot? Story structure?

Aaaah!

Here’s a Raisa fun fact. Until I was somewhere around fifty years old, I thought the past perfect verb tense was a joke created by my middle school English teacher to torment me.

The why is a bit more muddled. I was teaching high school math at the time, after a long career using numbers in another field. My last formal English class was sometime during the Regan administration. I’ve always been an avid reader though. Romance, fantasy, science fiction, horror… If it was printed between two pieces of card stock, I’d likely read it.

Yep, I was the kid who read cereal boxes.

I remember being delighted beyond words when my father brought home a whole set of very cheaply printed Nancy Drew mysteries from one of his business trips. Those books went from Maryland, to Germany, to Hawaii, and finally to Ohio. Unfortunately, after so much time and so many moves, I’ve lost track of them.

As I got older, my tastes changed, and it became harder to find books that truly resonated with me. When I first started writing, I was a year away from being an empty-nester, and I had my very own happy-ever-after with my amazing husband. More on him later.

Let’s face it. I wasn’t a twenty-something virgin. Heck, I wasn’t that woman when I got married. Even then, I was separated from that archetypal heroine by a decade of experience, relationships, and a career. This isn’t to say those heroines aren’t great, but they weren’t me.

Where was the mature bisexual woman who chose a geeky engineer for her knight in shining… coveralls?

I wanted realistic characters. People of color. LGBTQ+ people. People with scars, damage, histories, and rich backstory. I remember hearing someone say something along the lines of, “Only straight white people get a happy ending.”

Calling bullshit, honey.

I finally decided something along the lines of, “If nobody is writing the books I want to read, what’s stopping me from doing it myself?”

Cue the rabbit hole.

So… I wrote. My first attempts (note the plural there) were abysmal. One was a three-hundred-thousand-word behemoth that shall never see the light of day again. My second attempt is still one of my biggest regrets.

It was a Regency romance with an older heroine, and of course, a handsome duke. The heroine’s name was Miranda. She was wrongly convicted of theft, transported to Australia, and became quite a brilliant pirate before she found her true love. I adored her!

It was a wonderful story, but I lacked the skill to do it justice. I still think about dusting it off sometimes.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes. Attempts. Plural. Every author has a collection of early work. We all look back on them with a mixture of fondness and horror, yet that is how we learn. We practice.

One of my dearest friends from high school convinced me to keep writing, telling me I was good. I, of course, didn’t believe her a bit.

But I kept at it.

And I got better.

I embraced the learning curve. Any skill worth doing is worth doing well.

Then I got good.

Someone commented on one of my books that she’d never laughed so much while reading a dark romance.

THAT is what I want. I want all the dark humor and scorching chemistry. It was as if my skills had finally gotten good enough to communicate my vision.

I’m a USA Today bestseller now. Remember my husband? My knight in shining coveralls? Well, he’s supported me at every step. When his parents threw me shade, he backed me up.

When they said, “It’s a phase,” he said, “Buy a fucking USA Today. My wife is in it.”

I love that man so hard. He’s the reason I do enemies-to-lovers so well. We hated each other in college. I’d like to say I fell in love with him because he’s got romance novel equipment in tight boxer briefs, but it’s really because he’s truly amazing. He’s the man who shovels snow for an elderly neighbor and won’t take money for it and spends twenty years helping with a Cub Scout pack—even though we don’t have boys.

In fact, my first published work was a joke, written for him. He loves space opera, so I wrote him one. He was impatient though and was forever bugging me for just one more chapter.

So, I gave him one.

Our house is two stories with a finished basement. When he got to the end of what I’d written, in which the heroine had faked her own death, I could hear him yell from the upper floor. He now mutters darkly about never reading another living author again.

In any case, my mother-in-law now introduces me to people. “This is my daughter-in-law, Raisa. She writes dirty books.”

I thought her caregiver was going to lose her shit.

Meanwhile, my dear friend—the one who has encouraged me all along—is still writing but is struggling. She received crushing critique from someone who isn’t her audience and doesn’t read her genre.

It’s my turn to encourage her now because I absolutely refuse to let her give up.

So many people have helped me, and the authors I once fangirled over are some of my dearest friends. In fact, Delilah Devlin—the host of this blog—is one of them.

Well, she’s one of the authors I fangirl over. Considering I just got up the nerve to send her a Facebook friend request, I’m not about to be cheeky enough to call her a friend. She’s definitely a colleague though, which is totally cool by itself.

Give me time. Delilah doesn’t know about my seriously epic bar or my selection of yummy snacks yet. I’ll have her in my clutches soon!

Yes, authors are easily bribed with food and booze.

Anyway, I digress. Quite a lot actually.

I digress so much, I had to create a second pen name because I’m constitutionally incapable of being just Raisa.

Raisa writes steamy contemporary BDSM. Minette Moreau writes steamy paranormal. But you know what? No matter who is writing the story, you can guarantee the characters are going to be snarky, sexy, and will love as deeply and as powerfully as they fight.

I’m busy with a literal crapton of projects, but if you want to catch up with me at all the usual places, find your favorite at this convenient Linktree: https://linktr.ee/RaisaGreywood.

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to her blog, and especially special thanks to everyone who reads.

UPDATE: The winners are Mina Gerhart and Christy Smid!
*~*~*

I’m being lazy! I pieced together this patchwork of covers last week for a contest, and I’m using it again because I’m super busy and don’t have time to be original! Do you care?! LOL!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
tell me if you have any furbabies/pets, what kind, and their names—and I’d love for you to say what your pets do for you.

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

Excerpt from Ride a Texas Cowboy…

The house Katelyn Carter had bought sight unseen was kind of like her—weathered by storms and in need of a lot of TLC.

After a quick glance around the empty road, she set her truck into park and stared down the long graveled drive. She let her eyes blur and tried to imagine how the old house must have looked once upon a time before the harsh South Texas sun had baked its exterior. She wasn’t encouraged. Even seen from behind her dirty windshield, she could tell the one-story ranch needed a lot of work, and at the very least, a fresh coat of paint.

A lone tear streaked down her face, surprising her, and she sniffed. One last cry—she deserved that much. Then no more feeling sorry for herself. She had too much to do and a whole new life stretching in front of her.

A loud honk sounded, and Katelyn swung her gaze to her rearview mirror to find that a dusty, older model pick-up truck had pulled up behind her. She swiped away the tears with the back of her hand, and then stuck her arm out the window to wave the driver past.

Instead, the driver-side door opened, and a tall Texan in faded jeans and a cream-colored cowboy hat stepped onto the pavement.

Katelyn cursed under her breath and quickly tilted down the mirror to see whether her mascara had smeared. She didn’t really care what a stranger thought—that was the old Katelyn. Still, some habits died hard.

When boot steps stopped beside her, she glanced up…and found herself trapped by a moss-green gaze that raised the temperature within her cab a notch. The rest of him was just as captivating. Dark brown hair peeked from beneath his hat. His jaw was angular, his chin chiseled. Shallow crows’ feet surrounded those amazing eyes and crinkled when he frowned—as he was doing now. But they were wrinkles caused by the sun, not the weathering of a few years, like hers.

Damn! Here stood the first man she’d met since her separation who made her think of all the steamy possibilities, and he was too young.

She didn’t realize she’d cursed out loud until his soft chuckle washed over her like a silky caress. Her cheeks flamed instantly.

“Women don’t generally cuss me ’til after they know me better,” he said, his baritone voice thick as molasses.

UPDATE: The winner is…Mary Preston!
*~*~*

It’s early a.m. on Saturday. I have to rise at the butt-crack of dawn for a little quiet! I’m busy writing the book releasing later this month, Eli. Plus, I have three books to edit for other authors. Looooong books. So, I don’t have any time to waste. Did I mention that I started on Weight Watchers on January 1st? So far, so good; I’m down six pounds. And I love the new points system—you know, all foods have certain points and you can only eat so many points a day, blah-blah. If I want to eat something really bad, I can “earn” points by eating my veggies. I can’t tell you how many cans of green beans and spinach I’ve consumed whole to get those extra points!!! I’ve found a recipe for artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, and fresh spinach that you sauté and toss over spaghetti or onto pita bread that is to die for. And here’s me obsessing over food, again!

Anyway, I released a short story yesterday. It can be read alone but follows my novel, Dark Legacy. Anyway, if you’re looking for a quick sexy read, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed!

After stepping through a mage’s portal with her lover into a distant past, newly Born vampire Natalie Lambert is ready to give Rene Broussard the ultimate bite and make him hers forever. It’s time for this vampire to get her man.

Get your copy here!

This is a SHORT STORY and picks up after the events in my full-length novel, DARK LEGACY.
And it’s FREE in KU! DARK LEGACY is still in KU, too!

Puzzle Contest

To win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle and then tell me this…

When the weather’s cold outside, what’s your favorite thing to do?

Happy New Year to you all from Melbourne, Australia, and thanks to Delilah Devlin for hosting my blog.

What’s your favourite time of year? Is it Christmas? Your birthday?

For me, it’s the beginning of a new year. It starts with the magical build-up to midnight that will farewell the old and greet the new. My lovely husband and I get together with my cousin’s family for a night full of excitement and noise. Our lively conversation during dinner centers around the year that has been and what we hope is to come. It transitions into a games night and our competitive spirits come out to play. The husbands get a little merry, the volume increases and there’s always a side-splitting moment that will become folklore for the years ahead.

Somewhere between ten and eleven, a lull settles over the room. There are yawns and regular clock checking. Then a welcomed snack and refreshment interlude revives us for what is left of the countdown.

During those dozen or so precious minutes, as the celebrations peak, we head outside for the festive, 360-degree fireworks, and it’s then that my reflection time begins. I relish the good that has evolved during the year and let go of the bad. I shed a tear for those I’m leaving behind and feel that glorious tingle for the possibilities that lay ahead.

After the cheers fade and the hugs are distributed, our short drive home is consumed by Christmas lights and a call to more family for New Year’s greetings.

At a more reasonable hour on the first of January, the organized Libran in me gets to work. I pull out the latest purchase that’s going to take control of my world and keep me balanced. It’s amazing to think how much stock we put into the idea of an inanimate object changing our life. What is yours?

Barista hubby would tell you that for him, it’s the coffee machine I gave him as an early Christmas present. After keeping me caffeinated all year, he deserved an upgrade.

But for me, it’s all about my new, glossy day planner. Who doesn’t love a brand-new piece of stationery? With meticulous thought, I write my goals, the steps I need to take and the words of motivation that will keep me focused throughout the year. I fill it with tasks for that all important first month that will set the tone for the year. And I’ve got big plans for 2022.

In 2021 I published my first hot contemporary romance novel on Amazon Kindle. The Cop was mostly written during Melbourne’s sixth lockdown (Yes, that’s right! The most locked down city in the world. Bah!)

The Cop focuses on the chemistry between a sexy as sin cop, Kane Browne and Jess, a woman who is battling self-confidence issues due to an illness. Kane’s selfless nature is put to the test when a possible promotion to Sergeant would see him moving to a rural town, three hours away. There’s also the issue of the three younger brothers, Kane and his next in line sibling had to raise due to the passing of their parents. Just as Kane has everything under control, the unthinkable happens which has him questioning everything he knew about himself.

This novel is not only about love, delicious sex scenes and a happily ever after. It’s also about resilience, overcoming adversities and the importance of family. And for Kane, it’s about the ultimate test of selfless versus selfish.

It is the first in a series featuring the Browne brothers and I‘ve already begun work on the second novel. Although I am prepared for the battle between working twenty-five hours a week at an office job (dealing mostly with figures), writing and maintaining housework and a husband (wink).

Publishing a novel was a dream that was a long time in the making, mostly from a lack of hard work and dedication. Over the past decade, I’d started and stopped so many times, it’s embarrassing. But being open and honest about failures is part and parcel of life. It’s how you grow or so I’ve been led to believe.

So, what changed, I hear you ask. The blunt answer is the passing of my father.

My Dad, Kevin was diagnosed with Leukemia at the start of 2019, after previously beating lymphoma a year or so earlier. As you can imagine, writing was an outlet for expressing my feelings and it served as a distraction from his fight. I told myself that if he’s strong enough for his battle than surely, I could match him with dedication and finally finish something I’d wanted to achieve for the majority of my life. Although, it should be noted the novel I was working on at the time, isn’t quite finished yet. The characters need a little more development. But I’ve promised them they won’t be left on the shelf for too long.

Unfortunately, Dad lost his battle in August 2020, but it fueled my desire and need to write more than ever before. I came up with the idea for The Cop in the middle of 2021, got to work and never looked back. Three beta readers gave me both good and constructive feedback. I tweaked and re-wrote some scenes until here I am, a smile of accomplishment on my face and a self-published novel to show for my efforts.

I like to think my father’s battle and his subsequent passing weren’t in vain. I like to think he gave me the desire. That sink or swim moment I needed to pursue and conquer the dream I’ve had since I was a naive fifteen-year-old who thought writing would be all about the glory and less about the hard work and dedication it requires.

So, now what’s going to drive me? My characters, of course. They’re all in my head, ready to burst out onto a fresh, white blank computer screen. The plotline for the next Browne brother’s chance at love has my fingers itching to hit the keyboard. I’m ready for the challenge of completing a second novel. And then a third. The prospect is exciting.

Whatever it is you’re planning for 2022, I wish you joy, health and happiness. I wish you nothing but success. And I’d love to hear about your plans, your life changing inanimate object or anything else you’d like to share.

The Cop

Kane Browne is a sexy as sin cop who is used to accommodating everyone else’s needs before his own.

Cue Jess Frost, the gorgeous woman with a sharp tongue and eyes like the ocean.

From their first roadside interaction, sparks fly but an illness has robbed Jess of her self-confidence and Kane needs to convince her he’s worth taking a chance on.

This sexy, contemporary romance is a little sweet, a little naughty and comes with a side of handcuffs and a HEA (happily ever after). First book in a series, featuring five very different brothers.

The Cop is now available in paperback and e-book formats on Amazon.

Get your copy here!

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