Hello there! I’m Mellanie Szereto—author of (currently) 28 romances, baker of bread and pies, gardener of vegetables, hiker of woods, and master of introverting.
Are you going stir-crazy from social distancing yet? So far, I’m not. As a full-time writer who lives in the country, social distancing is a way of life!
Have you taken advantage of the free and 99-cent books while you’re trapped at home? I have quite a few waiting for me as rewards for meeting my writing goals. Books are a wonderful way to escape when you need a break, but even more so when you’re in a forced timeout!
Goals… Having people in my space during writing time for two weeks and counting has required a major adjustment. Indefinite Christmas break—that’s what teach-and-learn-from-home classes have turned into at my house. Hubby (The Professor) and son (The College Student) are now spread across the living room, the family room, and the makeshift upstairs office with two desks, one of which I won’t be using while The Professor is up there. He talks to himself and anyone else in the room as he works. Science nerd. What can you do? This is not the ideal situation for someone who prefers quiet during writing time.
How am I adjusting? The writing hasn’t developed a new routine yet, but I’ve put a book on sale for 99 cents, released a super-steamy romantic suspense short story last week, and set up an automated welcome email to new newsletter subscribers with links to two free short stories—the new one and another that’s also available for sale. (Hint-hint. Find the links below!) I’ve also shared my process for writing series with an author who will be teaching a class on that topic, updated my website, gotten a cover for one of my summer releases (see below!!!), and listened to a podcast that helped me better define the characters of a five-book novella rom-com series I’m working on. It’s forward progress, and that’s what counts!
I have plenty of stories to finish writing over the next few months and enough ideas to last several years, so I just need to work the kinks out of the domestic chaos. You should see my to-write, to finish, to rewrite, to-edit list! It runs the gamut of romance sub-genres and heat levels, from contemporary to historical to paranormal to romantic suspense and warm to hot to super steamy. Because I’ve found myself at the midpoint of my fifties (How did that happen???), I’m drawn to writing older (over 40) characters more and more as well. Oh, and nerds. See mention of The Professor above. 🙂
How about some of my favorite lines from the new release/newsletter freebie, my 99-cent-sale book, my cover-reveal book, and a couple of my works-in-progress?
Mad About You
Jessamine Youngblood (heroine) to herself from Mad About You (new short story) ~ Can I get away with murder on my wedding day?
Jessamine Youngblood is getting married today. Or is she? She’s having second thoughts even before Maddox, her sexy ex-con ex-husband, crashes her wedding-breakup preparations. Trouble follows him when her soon-to-be ex-fiancée makes a surprise visit—one that threatens their reunion and promises far more danger and gunfire than she expects.
Alice Carlton (secondary character at Montgomery Crossing Retirement Village) to Flynn Hastings (hero who is a chef) from Love Served Hot (book 1 of the Love on the Menu series) ~ “There’re sheets to set on fire and a happily-ever-after to wrangle into submission.”
Lilith Montgomery has hired a hot Irish chef whose culinary creations give her foodgasms. Keeping the heat in the kitchen is going to be tough. Falling head over stockpot for his new boss wasn’t part of his plan, but Flynn Hastings finds himself experimenting with a new recipe for love.
Carmen Valero (teenage daughter of heroine) to Kyle Morton (hero) from Hot Tamale Nights (book 3 of the Love on the Menu series) ~ “See? You’re my father.”
Entrepreneur Kyle Morton has a keen eye for investments, but pumping capital into an ex-lover’s business generates more conflict than he bargained for—and his longstanding grudge doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Aside from his constant pursuit of the next monetary venture, his motives shift from retribution for her betrayal to admission of his true feelings. The girl who claims to be his daughter further complicates a matter that should’ve been simple revenge.
Her children and Hot Tamale fill the once-empty hole in Isabel Valero’s heart. Or do they? The love of her life challenges that assumption and brings chaos when he invades her restaurant, especially with her ragtag family’s objections to his tendency to take over. Then his business enemies become her enemies and put them all at risk, despite his vow to protect them. Now their future together could burn to the ground again—permanently.
**Sneak peeks at my older woman/younger man novella rom-com series!**
Five women between the ages of 42 and 50 bond over fiction, food, and being single at the weekly meetings of The Homegrown Café Book Club. Coming this summer to an e-reader near you!
Big Jim Cochon (hero who is a pig farmer) to himself after re-meeting his best friend’s older sister and his lifetime crush, Tate Madison (heroine who owns The Homegrown Café), from Makin’ Bacon (book 1) ~ If you don’t want the woman of your dreams to think you’re a redneck, don’t wear manure-covered work boots, bib overalls, and ragged plaid flannel to introduce yourself. And leave the cruddy John Deere cap in the pickup.
Riley Fenniman (heroine who loves stilettos and the f-word) in a chance meeting with Deacon Jeffries (hero who is her accountant) on the sidewalk after another offer from her cousin’s lawyer to buy part of her farm from The Farmer Takes a Husband (book 2) ~Late October air kissed her bare face, arms, and calves as Riley exited the building, cooling her body temperature if not her irritation. “Fucking menopause.” “Who pissed you off this time?” Amusement colored the question, the only not-some-shade of-beige part of the man’s entire presence, right down to his hair and personality.
Do you like whiskey? Whether you do or don’t, it’s a drink with a fascinating history. The name comes from the old Irish uisce beatha, which means “water of life.” It was invented by Irish and Scottish monks in the Middle Ages, who used it for medicinal purposes. Now that’s a good excuse for a dram if ever I heard one! St Patrick’s Day was on 17 March, so now seemed a good time to tell you about my favorite drink and how I came to discover it.
I arrived in England from France in 1997, and one of my first jobs was as a finance analyst for a drinks company that owned several brands of Scotch and Irish whiskeys. They sold it, and they loved it. I’ll never forget the time when I was helping one of the directors with his budget figures. When we finished the work, he breathed a sigh and declared, “Ah, time for a break!” I expected him to brew a cup of tea or coffee. Instead, he pulled a book from his bookshelf. Behind it sat a bottle of Scotch. He opened it and drank a good mouthful, then offered it to me. It was 10 am, so I declined politely. There was also the time when we arrived at a company meeting, to be met with six shot glasses of whiskey lined up before every seat. We were to drink the shots, then guess which whiskey was the new one we were launching. I work in the pharmaceutical industry now, nothing this fun happens to me anymore!
Many countries produce whiskey, including Japan and India. It remains the liquor of choice in its old Celtic heartlands of Ireland and Scotland. Wales has also recently started, or rather restarted, to produce whiskey. When I created the world of my award-winning Sea of Love fantasy romance series, it seemed natural that my Welsh shape-shifting mermen would produce and drink whiskey. In the first book of the series, A Merman’s Choice, the merman hero Yann and the heroine Alex are stranded on Yann’s island during a storm. Yann is forced to take Alex to his home, in defiance of the laws of the merfolk. Alex is soaked and frozen. Yann wants to warm her up… what better way than to offer her a glass of his own whiskey? Read on to discover more!
A MERMAN’S CHOICE is the first book in the Sea of Love series, winner in the Paranormal Romance Guild Reviewer’s Choice Award. Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/31xw7a
A Merman’s Choice
For centuries the shape-shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands have lived incognito among humans. But one of them, Yann, has developed some bad habits. Like rescuing humans, even when doing so risks revealing his true nature. When he fishes Alex out of the sea, he doesn’t expect her to reappear eight months later, and turn his life upside down by asking him to be her guide. Alex is determined to fulfill a promise to her dying grandmother, by gathering pictures and stories of the Morvanns. But she soon discovers that, on these remote Welsh islands, legends have a habit of becoming true!
Over the course of a few days, Yann and Alex grow close. But some mermen hate humans. Their hostility, and Yann’s secret, threaten to tear the couple apart just as they are discovering that they are soul mates. Can Yann overcome the obstacles in his path and make the right choice?
MUSIC FOR A MERMAN is Book 2 in the Sea of Love series. The books can be read independently. Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/mdG7Bw
Music for a Merman
Rob Regor knew that humans were trouble. All the shape-shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands knew it. And human women were double trouble… especially when they were lying on the road in front of a digger.
Rob has a mission. Go to the mainland. Work as a policeman. Spy on humans. Report back to his father, the head of the Regor Merman Clan. It should be easy. Until he has to arrest Charlie. Rob can’t fight his attraction to the sexy eco-warrior, and it puts him on one hell of a collision course with his family and his Clan. Will he break the rules – or break her heart, and his?
Love ‘em and leave ‘em, that was Charlie’s motto. It had served her well until now. But Rob is different… Can she open up her heart to Rob – when a secret buried in her past surfaces and changes her completely?
Excerpt from A Merman’s Choice
An ear-shattering roll of thunder shook the air. Alex flinched. “It’s right above our heads.”
Yann stopped himself from stroking her shoulder to reassure her. “That means it’ll soon go away.”
Not soon enough. How could he pass the time until then? He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost midday. Lunch would distract her from the storm and the ocean she’d only just escaped. Perhaps it would distract him from the sight of her, shimmering in the gloomy room like a pearl made of flesh.
He went to the dresser against the wall and picked up a bottle and two glasses. “Would you like a dram of whiskey to warm you up?”
She slid back down the sofa. His ears registered the squeak of leg against leather, and his mind instantly pictured her sprawled on the cushions, her golden hair fanned behind her head, milky thighs open wide. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the maddening image.
Her voice dropped into a seductive purr. “I’m quite warm already, thank you. But I can cope with more heat.”
He poured a glass of the golden liquid and brought it to her.
“Thank you.” She sipped it and made a grimace, which turned into a smile. “Even better than cider.”
Her mouth glowed against her milky skin like a forbidden fruit. He thought of the first summer berries—tart redcurrants, juicy raspberries. Would she taste like them?
They needed food. If he didn’t get lunch down her soon, she’d get drunk. The demon voice in his mind whispered that Alex would be great fun if she lost her inhibitions. He tried to shut the demon out. What could he prepare quickly?
He strode to the trap in the floor by the front door and lifted it. The smell and sound of seawater, sloshing in the dark, rose up.
Alex padded over to investigate. “Oh, wow. You have a whole aquarium down there!”
The corner of her blanket brushed his bare arm, sending another twig to feed the fire that smoldered in his loins.
“That’s how islanders keep their seafood fresh. Why don’t you go and sit at the table, and I’ll open a dozen oysters for you?”
She didn’t need to see the tunnel on the side of the “aquarium”, that led to the lower floor of the house, the level that flooded at high tide and opened onto the sea. The level where a more respectable merman would spend most of his time.
She moved away to the center of the room where the oak table stood. Not far enough. He’d become so attuned to her that every one of her movements seemed to ripple across the space and lap against his body. He grabbed a knife and bucket from the tool shelf, snapped the first oyster open and dropped it in the bucket. Now she was crossing her legs, damn her. Did she know that the woolen fabric was opening, uncovering the ivory skin of her inner thigh? Was she flirting with him, or was it his imagination?
“I love oysters.” Her voice wrapped itself around him like a silk scarf. “Pity we don’t have any champagne to go with them, but this whiskey is just as good.”
Ready to go off the grid? I’m not sure why I’ve been so fascinated with it, but after a fan asked for a sequel to Follow Me, I couldn’t resist roughing it once again.
At the moment, it also happens to be a hot topic. With schools, restaurants, and bars closing from the pandemic, we are being forced to live a simpler life — at least for a while. It makes us appreciate what we usually take for granted, and some of us may end up realizing the simpler life can be better.
While Follow Me hung out in the West Virginia mountains and rivers, Find Me’s setting is a Louisiana swamp. Hot, sticky, and oh so sexy… Sheltering-in can be a thrill instead of a prison sentence if you’re locked away with the hero of your dreams. Away from outside distractions and conveniences, you can immerse yourself completely in the other person’s body, heart, and soul.
Can a civil rights attorney and a southern rocker find love at a Confederate statue rally?
Weary of climbing the corporate ladder to care for her aging hippie parents, Dee Dobson marches in a rally. When violence erupts, Rodney Walker, lead singer of Breeze, comes to her rescue. Their dramatic picture hits the papers, but an interracial relationship is out of the question for both their careers.
Between a long-distance concert tour, her endless overtime, and his racist brother, Jack, they struggle to build a future from their powerful connection. When a senator pursues Dee and helps her run for political office, things get even more complicated.
But their biggest obstacle is Jack. As a southern gentleman, Rodney values family above all else. Due to a long-buried secret, he always gives his brother the benefit of the doubt, a decision that could cost him and Dee everything.
He grabbed an enormous green towel and washcloth from the metal rack and set them on the vanity. “Here you go. Soap and shampoo are inside the stall. Do you need anything else?”
Their gazes caught and held…too long.
When he grabbed the belt buckle of his jeans, her gaze dropped to his hand and didn’t let go.
“I need a shower, too,” he said hoarsely. “And, well, there’s no flag in here.”
“I expected you to have one as a shower curtain,” she joked.
But she caught his drift. Running water would mask any sounds they made in case the evil brother woke up. Without taking her eyes off Rodney’s waist, she stooped to remove her sneakers. She straightened and padded toward him in slow motion. The thick rug massaged her feet, which only fed the desire rising inside her like a high tide.
Her hands got a mind of their own as they fastened around the big, round buckle and tugged it open. He jerked his zipper down and pulled off his tank top. Her nipples tightened so hard they ached. Ever since he’d rescued her at the rally, she’d wanted him. No, before that. She’d wanted him the first time she’d heard him sing.
She ran her palms over the warm, solid planes of his chest, but he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down. Lord, the man had a thick package. The bulge she’d always seen in his pants didn’t disappoint.
His eager erection was the best thing she’d ever felt, too. When she rubbed the length of him, a moan escaped him and he slumped against the vanity. Before she could do it a second time, he growled and peeled off her clothes.
“Don’t move,” he said as he reclined against the vanity, watching her.
His gaze felt as heavy as a caress. In response, goosebumps popped up all over her flesh. Without another word, he walked her toward the shower and turned on the water. In moments, the glass-doored stall filled with steam.
Hot water pulsed over their bodies. Rodney’s hair looked even sexier wet. Long sheets of it framed his muscled flesh, which turned rosy in the hot water. His jutting organ reddened, too.
He sat on one of the built-in seats and pulled her back-first onto his lap as he had in the boat. His cock, slick and hard, rubbed against her buttocks. When would she feel it inside her? To fill her aching need? If he decided to act like a southern gentleman now, she’d scream.
With his arms around her, he leaned toward the nearby soap dispenser, built into the shower wall, and squirted a dollop of pearly fluid into his palm. It reminded her of cum, which made her cleft burn even more. With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed it over her arms, releasing its herbal scent. Going back for more and more to cleanse her legs, back, and belly.
When he lavished extra care on the scar from her stab wound, it made her recall the rally. She’d been terrified of dying until he’d carried her to safety. I must be dreaming! Never let this shower end, even if my skin turns into a wrinkled prune.
When would he wash the parts she needed most? As if reading her mind, he palmed her breasts. Through the soapy bubbles, the warm friction of his hands against her swollen nipples sent her into the stratosphere.
Then he shut off the faucet, dropped to her feet, and nudged open her thighs.
Oh, no he isn’t…
Coming Soon
Look Into My Eyes – in case you missed the Crossroads boxed set
You’d think, being a minister, I’d wake on Sunday morning wondering what miracle lay in store for me that day. Unfortunately, more often than not I’d have the Saturday night why-did-I say-I’d-preach-on-Sunday blues. My colleagues and I lead our parishioners in choruses like “Victory is Mine” or classic hymns like “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God”, but many of us leave the ministry suffering from compassion fatigue or badly burned by well-intentioned dragons. I could have been one of those casualties but for a faith-reviving miracle.
From 2013-2015, I served as interim pastor to the United Presbyterian Church in Paterson, NJ, where I met an enthusiastic member named Diane Anderson. She wanted to hold an evangelistic service outdoors so members of the community could hear the message. For the benediction, we’d write prayers on index cards, tie them to helium balloons then release them. The Sunday of the service was warm and wonderful. We worshipped in the church parking lot and, at the end of the service, released our balloons as planned. They dotted a blue and cloudless sky.
The following Tuesday on our answering machine was a message from a woman who lived in Massachusetts just outside of Boston. She shared how one of our balloon blessings reached her backyard and was an answer to a prayer.
I called her back and had a wonderful conversation. It seems her father had recently died after a long bout with cancer. She’d gone that Sunday to his graveside and just talked to him, letting him know how much she missed him and didn’t know how she was going to go on without him. On Monday, as she was washing her dishes she glanced out her kitchen window and saw something stuck to a shed in her backyard. She went to retrieve it. It was a balloon with the following message attached: “Jesus, I am asking and believing in your name to continue to bless all those free of cancer and to those suffering that you will comfort them during this time.” She told me she wasn’t a religious person, but she felt sure our balloon was a sign from her dad that all was well with him and all would be well with her. Because our address was on the card she was able to track us down and thank us. She mailed the card back so I could share her thank you with the congregation the following Sunday.
I told Diane first. She had always wanted to do a service like this and thanked me for encouraging her to do it, despite the grumbling from the we’ve-never-done-it-that-way-before naysayers of the congregation. Diane now leads a ministry called Faithworks that feeds 500 people a month.
That balloon traveled 220 miles from our parking lot in Paterson to this woman’s Boston neighborhood. Ever since that call, I greet each morning with this prayer: “Thank you, God, for another day to be used by you for good.”
Coincidence or miracle? I believe the latter. What do you say?
One Breath Away
Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. She’s never been courted, cuddled or spooned, and now no man could want her, not when sexual satisfaction comes only with the thought of asphyxiation. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.
Wealthy, freeborn-Black, Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing the mysteriously exotic woman was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex. Hope ignites along with lust until the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…
Excerpt from One Breath Away
She circled around him as if he were an open bear trap. “What if touching you in those ways doesn’t give me pleasure?”
Her words sliced across his throat. He pressed a fist against his heart then sucked air through his mouth to recapture his breath. “Then I’m wrong…but I honestly don’t believe I am.”
She frowned. “I told you I’ve no experience when it comes to relations between men and women.”
“You’re a fast learner, remember?”
She looked down. Interest burned in the gaze that traveled to his crotch. His cock twitched under her scrutiny. She returned her attention to his face, stared into his eyes, searched a minute.
Eban held his breath.
Come on stars. Be right.
She tilted her head. “You’ll show me what you want? Guide me? Instruct me?”
“If you’re willing.”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Fine. Show me.”
He unbuttoned his fly, let his pants slip slowly down his legs, and blew out a breath as her gaze followed his movements. He discarded his underwear, swallowed hard as he exposed his member to her. Her eyes widened.
“Your first impression?”
Still clutching her shoe, she approached him, reached for his cock, let her hand hover indecisively.
“Touch it anyway you like.”
She knelt on the mattress, laid her shoe aside and took his genitalia in her hands. He closed his eyes, melted in the immediate warmth of her fingers cupping his balls. A drop of semen pearled from the head’s slit.
“What is this?”
He opened his eyes, observed then relaxed at the curiosity in her gaze.
“Sperm.”
She thumbed the substance onto her fingers, examined it, sniffed it.
“Planted in your womb it becomes a baby.”
She spread the precious seed along his cock slit. He stifled a moan as a delicious thrill tripped up his shaft. She stopped. He looked down into eyes filled with concern.
“Have I done something wrong?”
He shuddered, shook his head. “No. You’ve done something very right. Please, continue.”
Ack! I almost forgot to post! Who knew that having everyone stay at home would make life fast-forward? Okay, so maybe I should have known. However, let me describe my day so far…
Instead of getting up to see kids off to the bus and then enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee before I headed to my computer, I organized kids to take care of animals—scooping poop from litter boxes, feeding and walking dogs, feeding horses.
Just as I was settling at my desk, a kid came rushing down the stairs. “Hey, Nina? Whatcha making for breakfast?” Yes, I am now in charge of all breakfasts, because now that they are home, cereal isn’t good enough. So, yes, I caved and made breakfast. An hour later, it was, “Hey, mom,” from my dd. “Can you help the 16-year-old with her homework? She has an essay to write, and you’re the writer…” Then I had to organize the next round of taking care of animals, putting on a load of washing, etc.
An hour later, I sat at my desk but the morning was gone. I worked on editing someone else’s pages then turned to edit my own. Just as I was getting ready to start on new words, my dd said, “Hey, Amazon isn’t shipping for third parties any more,” and of course, I had to read up on the news, watch a conference Governor Cuomo conducted, because his information is so much better than what we’ve gotten out of our own state’s… And on, and on…
When I went outside to clear my head, I realized I’d forgotten something. A few somethings. Like blogging. Like changing my clothes. Like cleaning off my desk. Like making my bed. Like… There are not enough hours in the day. How long is this self-quarantine going to last, because I’m ready for a break!!!?
And I’m sure you’re feeling just about the same way, too, right? The thought that I might be doing this for longer than two weeks is enough to make me want to have a video-conference with some doctor to request sedatives.
But hey, I do have something to share. The opening pages of the next book I’m releasing, One Hot Night. I set the release on Amazon for April 14th, but I’m doing my best to get it finished for release at the end of this month.
One Hot Night
While investigating seemingly unrelated attacks against visiting dignitaries, New Orleans detective, Remy Cyr, spots a certain reporter trying to use a fake invitation to enter an exclusive nighttime event. Seeing a chance to give the persistent reporter a hard time, he pulls her aside to confront her. He’s distracted and amused by her excuses long enough that, once he heads back to the ballroom, he realizes it has been taken over by a group of armed men and that he and the reporter are the only ones who know…
Excerpt from One Hot Night
Detective Remy Cyr followed the slender woman with his gaze as she made her way around the convention ballroom. That she didn’t belong was obvious. That she was likely a reporter was also, although only to someone trained to observe.
Sure, she was dressed for the occasion in a knee-length, emerald green dress. She should have blended in well with the other well-dressed women. Her four-inch suede heels teased a man’s gaze to travel upward over lightly muscled, sleek calves. The jewels she wore weren’t fake. They were nice enough they might fool some of the men attending the event into believing she did, in fact, belong among the glittering NOLA socialites. But her earrings and bracelet were a classic design, likely passed down, not something purchased on a reporter’s salary. Likewise, the clutch she carried was a classic black quilted piece, probably Chanel.
Remy’s ex-girlfriend had been a social-climbing vlogger, who’d told other women how to dress to get the guy they wanted and would have traded all her followers for that clutch. He should have known when Isabelle had worn sweats and frayed jeans around him that she didn’t consider him “end game material” as she’d called the hapless guys she’d urged her devoted audience to stalk.
At first glance, Remy had thought this woman was cut from the same cloth as Isabelle. A lovely blonde with smoky eyes and a red-rimmed, diamond-bright smile. However, she wasn’t smiling to entice a man into taking her to dinner or even up to his room. One by one, she tried to draw them into conversation only to have the mostly foreign dignitaries raise brows and deflect her with a tight smile and tactical turn. Even now, she was beginning to annoy the man she’d latched onto—the Mayor of New Orleans, Hugo Benoit.
Unfortunately for the woman, it looked like Hugo knew her well because he arched a thick, black eyebrow at the woman, and then raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
In seconds, his personal security team converged. Hugo, always one to turn a moment into a flashy laugh, lifted the woman’s hand and bent over it to give her a kiss. Then he straightened and flicked his fingers over his lapel like he was brushing away dirt.
The woman gave him a narrow-eyed glare as she smiled, waved at the bodyguards, and as she turned away, snatched a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray as she walked toward the exit.
One of the bodyguards spoke into a radio, likely ensuring an escort awaited the woman outside the door to remove her from the venue.
Remy grinned. He’d bet his last dollar the woman would be back inside within half an hour. That cheeky grin she’d given the mayor said she wasn’t a woman who conceded a battle—ever.
“Hey, bro,” his brother’s voice sounded in his earpiece. “We’re not bein’ paid to eye the arm candy.”
“Not arm candy, man,” he said softly as he glanced around the ballroom for any hint of further trouble.
“A reporter?”
“Yeah. This rich a target? They’re not just standin’ behind the velvet ropes along the red carpet. They’re hittin’ up the wait staff, hidin’ in bathrooms…”
“Wearin’ pretty green dresses and high heels…”
Remy’s lips twitched. “She’s made now. I’m wonderin’ what she’ll try next.”
“Think she will?”
“I’d bet money.”
“I won’t take that bet. I’m here to make extra cash, not lose it.”
“Better earn it then, Thibaut, instead of ridin’ my ass.”
“You call that ridin’? I’m just seein’ how much you like the girl. My question is answered,” his brother said, amusement in his voice.
“Don’t even know her name, so don’t go reservin’ the chapel. Just ’cause you and Amelie are tyin’ the knot doesn’t mean the rest of us are ready to tie a noose around our necks.”
“It’s a sweet noose. But damn, weddings are expensive.”
Remy chuckled. “What happened to ‘simple and just family’?”
“Have you seen the size of our family?”
“If you weren’t also countin’ SEALs and cops…”
“They’re family.”
“Well, there you have it. This gig is a sweet deal. Ballard likes you. He’ll give you as many engagements as you want.”
Thibaut sighed. “I barely see Amelie as it is—what with her shifts at the store and all this wedding shit. Do you know she wanted to hire someone to figure out all this stuff?”
“It’s a lot,” Remy murmured. As Thibaut’s best man, he had a front-row seat to the chaos surrounding his brother’s wedding plans.
“Thank God for Laure. She really stepped up after Amelie asked her to be her Maid of Honor.”
“Glad those two put their shit behind them.”
“Amelie had this crazy idea Laure was sweet on me. Said she was jealous.”
“Maybe when you two were kids…”
“Said it was why Laure was always a bitch around her.”
“Doesn’t she know Laure’s that way with everyone?”
They both chuckled. They loved Laure, but the girl had always been a handful. Remy felt sorry for any man who got tangled up with her.
“I feel sorry for any man who thinks he’s gonna put a ring on her finger.”
Remy’s grin stretched across his face when Thibaut echoed his own thought. “Yeah, he’ll have to be tough, or she’ll walk all over him.”
“Maybe I should introduce her to some of my SEAL buddies when they come to the wedding.”
“Thought you liked your teammates.”
They laughed softly.
Remy caught sight of Thibaut across the ballroom floor and gave him a two-fingered salute.
“Man, I’m glad I’m here,” Thibaut said, smiling.
“Me, too. I’m happy for you.” Thibaut’s road to his engagement hadn’t been an easy one. He’d left the SEALs, attended the police academy, and now was a rookie NOLA cop. “Do you miss it?”
“The Navy?” Thibaut drew a deep breath. “Yes and no. I hated losing folks around me, but there’s something about walking into a firefight with your closest buddies. You feel… Man, I don’t know…like you’re part of something big. Like you’re one…organism. If that makes sense. We can function without commands; know each other’s next moves.”
“If you make SWAT, you’ll feel pretty darn close to that. They work hard. Play hard.”
“Did you hate giving it up when you made detective?”
“I’m not lyin’; I did. But what I’m doing now… I like puzzles. Like figuring out who done it.”
“Don’t think I’ll be goin’ after your job, man. Interrogation was never my strong suit.”
“Breakin’ heads more like it?”
Thibaut grunted in his ear. Then he drew an audible breath. “Glad I didn’t take that bet. Check out the waitress. Your four o’clock.”
Remy glanced out of the corner of his eye and found her. The blonde. Only now, she was a brunette. The wig was chin-length. She’d wiped off the bright red lipstick and smoky eyeshadow. Gone were the heels and in their place were functional black loafers.
Remy smiled and began to make his way toward the table where she was removing some kind of shrimp finger food tray and replacing it with fresh entrees.
While he watched, she glanced around then slipped one of the shrimps into her mouth and closed her eyes. Must have been good. Now, he was hungry, too.
Remy had no doubts that what could have been a really boring night was about to get interesting…
Happy Almost Spring from North Texas! I’m Liberty Ireland – Book Wrangler, Aspiring Author, and Super Mom and Wife. I’m so grateful Delilah gave me the reins for the day and I’m glad to meet y’all!
I find that whether we are a reader, reviewer or author, one thing binds us all together – our great love of reading books. I can remember my parents reading to me at bedtime, my Mom always taking us to the library for their Summer Reading fun and choosing a family book to read on road trips. As a teen, I’d leave my door open while doing homework so I could hear my Mom read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing to my brother. I excelled in English throughout my schooling because of my reading and fell madly in love with Rhett Butler, Shakespeare, Atticus Finch and the like. Right about then I discovered Romances and Fabio but somewhere along the way of becoming an adult, reading became less and less of an escape and priority for me.
Eventually, along came Stephanie Meyer and Edward and Becca Fitzpatrick and Patch to whom I will be forever grateful for reinstilling in me that passion for reading. Now I read almost exclusively Romance with many favorite subgenres ranging from Historical to Western to Romantic Suspense to Dark and Twisty. I have hundreds of favorite authors and have learned that I have several favorite tropes as well. I have even rediscovered my desire to be an author.
What about you, Dear Reader? How did you become a reader and/or what are some of your favorites?
Leave an answer below, and on March 21st I’ll choose a random winner of a $10 Amazon or B&N gift card (US only)
From the unedited Prologue of my WIP:
…Jake took a deep breath and knew he had to follow through on what he’d planned. Coming over here today was for the last time. He knew how hurt she’d be when she discovered his deceit and that he wasn’t coming back but it was for the best. Her heart would heal in time and she would find someone who could give her all the things she deserved – a stable home life, a man that worshipped the ground she walked on and a bunch of kids just as beautiful as her.
She stirred as he leaned over and kissed her. He tenderly watched her as she relaxed again into a deeper slumber then he eased up off the quilt she’d
put down for them. As he put his shirt and boots back on, he knew he was doing the right thing. It just sucked that he had to hurt her in order to do it.
He trudged through the rain to his truck and started it up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit redial.
“Mr. Sanders? Jake Peterson. I wanted to let you know that if your offer is still open, I’d love to join the PBR tour. Yes sir, I can leave right after I grab my trailer and put my horse in it. Yes, I know where that is. Okay, I’ll see you there.”
Jake hung up and put the truck in gear. He looked up to where his Panda was sleeping. “Go on and live your life Sugar, the way it is meant to be lived.”
He kissed his fingers and blew it in her direction then he slowly pulled out.
It’s release day!! Yes, my story, Brian released yesterday—but not because I was trying to get out ahead of everybody else. I was simply calendar-challenged when I selected my date. I thought I’d chosen a Tuesday. Which is really kind of stupid, because KDP gives you a little calendar to look at when you choose your date, but I had the 24th in my brain, so the 24th it would be.
Anyways, lots of great books to celebrate today: Mine (ahem, Brian), my sister Elle Jame’s (SEAL’s Vow), and the one I’m featuring here today, written by my friend and fab author, Reina Torres!
From Fab Friend & Author Reina Torres
Part of the challenge of setting a Romance in the early 1970s was giving it a different feel from the modern-day. The book didn’t qualify as a “historical” in the book sense, but since I was setting it back almost fifty years in the past, there were certain things that brought me back into the early 70s: Clothes and Music.
Clothes were fun: terrycloth, corduroy, denims—and all the fun that went along with those fabrics.
Music was a little more of a challenge…
I was born in 1973, and my mother has often told me that I sang before I spoke. I’m guessing she means in complete phrases or sentences, but she just repeats the same stories over and over. My mom and dad both worked for the United States Postal Service, so I think you can safely say that I’m a Postal Child. 🙂
My dad worked the day shift, and my mom worked the graveyard shift. So when my dad headed off in the morning to go to work, he’d put me in the passenger seat (remember, it’s the 70s), laid back and wrapped up in my favorite blanket. He’d put the radio on for the drive into downtown Honolulu, heading straight to the post office where my mother worked. She’d get in the driver’s seat, and my dad would climb in the back, and we’d drop him off at work before my mom turned toward home.
I’d doze the way there and back, singing to the radio the entire time to songs like this one…
When I started writing Jesse, I did a little brainstorming on the earliest songs I could remember, and then came the reality check while going through the songs and checking to see which ones were in the right time period and which came after 1973-1974. With a couple of “oops” choices, I actually managed to put together a list of songs that helped take me back in time.
Much like Richard Collier in the movie Somewhere in Time, surrounding myself with the music of the era helped take me back in time for the book. So, I hope you’ll enjoy a little trip back in time to see how Jesse Sutton and Etta Bradford met and fell in love.
The rest of the series will be the stories of their children as they continue The Suttons – An American Legacy.
The instant he said it, he tensed, expecting to feel her hand across his cheek.
When she didn’t, he gave her a curious look, doubling down on his stupidity, and a moment later he wished that she had cracked him across his jaw. It would have been better than the way her expression crumbled as she took a step back, breaking the hold he had on her hand, and her shoulders sagged.
He was an ass. That was clear.
What he needed to do was apologize.
Quickly.
But all the words he needed to say were stuck somewhere in the back of his mind along with the sense that should have helped him keep his mouth shut in the first place.
“I’ve been kissed before!”
What?
That wasn’t what he asked.
Not by a long shot.
But, then again, her answer was just as telling.
He wasn’t just an ass. He let his mouth get way ahead of his brain. A fucking stampede ahead of the stage.
“I’m not talking about the playground, Etta. I’m talking about a kiss.” His voice had dipped dangerously low, vibrating through him like a tuning fork and making him just as hard.
He took a step closer.
Etta countered by taking a step back. They danced that way across the sidewalk until he knew he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Against the wall.
She knew it too. Her palms flattened against the wall at her sides and her shoulders pushed back. She raised her gaze up to meet his as if she was trying to tell him that she wasn’t nervous, but he saw the way her breathing shallowed, her skin flushed, and her lips parted as he moved even closer.
And he continued until the toes of his boots were almost nudging the tips of her shoes. He raked his gaze up over her feet, the hem of her dress, over the tantalizing rise and fall of her breasts and back up along the flushed skin of her chest, neck, and face.
He lifted a hand and gently touched her cheek. “First,” he smiled at her, “one, or both people, have to move their nose out of the way. So, we’ll go with both here.” He put the tiniest bit of pressure on her cheek and tilted her head a little bit. “Next, we’ll keep teeth out of it, unless you want to bite a lip… that could be fun.”
She swallowed and he swore he could hear the soft sound echoing off the thick concrete walls. “Is that all?”
“All?”
Etta nodded, but he didn’t see the motion, he could only feel it against his fingertips. “The rules?”
The corner of his mouth lifted and he leaned in closer, bracing his free hand on the wall just above her shoulder. “Those aren’t rules, Etta. Just a few things to make it easier.”
“Easier?” She echoed the word with a tight, breathy voice. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t,” he sighed and trailed the hand against her cheek into her hair, enjoying the feeling of it against his skin, “but I’m going to show you.”
She blinked up at him. “Okay.”
If she didn’t stop looking at him like a sacrificial lamb, he was going to lose his mind.
“There’s a time and place for hard kisses, sweetheart.”
Etta nodded as if she was making a note in her head. So beautiful and if he was any judge, innocent in so many ways.
“But tonight,” he moved closer until his lips were close enough to hers to feel the heat of her skin, “we’re going to start with gentle.”
“Gentle…” her lips were so damn close and he could hear the curious plea in her tone, “okay.”
He couldn’t wait another moment. He touched his lips to hers and felt her tense. He waited until her body eased into the sensation before he moved away.
Her eyes fluttered open. And she looked into his eyes as her brow pinched ever so slightly.
He smiled at the curious question he saw in her eyes. “What is it, Etta?”
She swayed closer. “Was that… all?”
“You want more?”
She opened her lips to answer and he swept in to kiss her again. Press in closer until he could feel the way her lips pressed back against his. Plump. Plush. Made for this. Made for him.
Contest
Pick your favorite song from my list above, and I’ll select a random person to win a download of Jesse!
