By her 21st birthday, Jessica had completed two years of college, put 1,685 miles between herself and her family, got married, started work in a federal prison, got pregnant, and obtained an (illegal) abortion. That should have been enough adventure for any intelligent, well-raised young lady.

But Jess was just getting started.

Not that her seven years with Parker Grant came without sacrifices:

Excerpt…

More than anything, I wanted this to be his plan, not mine. Such a proposal belonged to men and I was well aware I was violating time-honored courtship norms. But I had waited all my life for a man to take the initiative, make me feel loved. I longed for him to sweep me up in his arms, tell me he couldn’t live without me, and get down on one knee to reveal the diamond ring that symbolized his promise. Whisk me away to be his wife forever.

My failure as a woman meant I would never have that.

His response, after a period of quiet pondering, came in a soft, stern voice. “I won’t have a wife who smokes.”

A flush swept up my neck. How could he agree to get engaged and criticize me in the same breath? Was this an excuse for saying no?

I stuffed away hurt feelings, not seeing far enough ahead to recognize the harness he was slipping over me. At the time, I prided myself on my ability to be whatever anyone required me to be. But then, what choice did I have?

“Okay! No problem,” I chirped. “No more cigarettes.”

*~*~*

And its rewards:

Excerpt…

At our southernmost destination, we checked into a resort nestled in the midst of tangled forest that curled down to the banks of the Pagsanhan River. In the resort’s sprawling dining room, open to jungle fringing the sides of its big vaulted roof, we sat around a huge fire pit to drink rice wine, feast on chicken adobo with rice, and exclaim over the custard of soft coconut they served for dessert.

A routine for the tourists included dancing the native “tiningaling.” First the demonstration: held close to the floor, two long bamboo poles were rhythmically clacked together and apart while trained dancers performed a series of jumps in and out of the poles. The tourists were expected to try their luck at this, and with the help of more rice wine, Parker and I managed to jump at the right time to avoid having our ankles whacked.

After the festivities and giddy on wine, we left the common hall and retired to our tiny room with its one window looking out into darkening emerald night.

I stood at the window. “How do people live out here, without telephones or television, without roads?”

“They probably have a lot of sex,” he muttered, coming up behind me and running his hands over my hips.

“You’re twisted.” I laughed as he pulled at my clothes.

“In all the right ways,” he laughed back.

We finished undressing each other and fell groaning into the bed.

“I love you, Parker,” I said later. My head rested on his chest, both of us sweaty from our bout of lovemaking.

“I love you, too, Jess.”

I meant it. I felt joyous in the experience of honest affection for him. I felt cared for, protected. Somehow things were right. We made love again, drawing out the embraces until the Filipino maid knocked with towels and halting instruction that the electricity and water shut off from ten p.m. until six a.m.

Looking back fifty years to tell her story, Jessica struggled with concerns about how to avoid hurting people who had been part of her journey. About how to avoid tarnishing her modern-day reputation and the lives of her grown children. More than once as editor and publisher of Jessica’s story, I (Liz Ashworth) questioned whether it would all be worth the effort.

Not many young women today appreciate the obstacles facing women of the late 1960s and early ’70s. So many things taken for granted in 2020 were mountains not yet climbed fifty years ago. And who among readers today want to delve into the torment of that era?

Jessica was driven to tell her story, and I’m glad I helped her. It was an emotional experience for both of us. No matter whether the book becomes a bestseller or even sells one copy, Jessica has satisfied herself that her story is told, that the love, despair, guilt, and frustrations she experienced are preserved as a testimony to life in those times. This is one woman’s story in the framework of her relationship with Parker Grant.

About Jessica

When I was nineteen, I longed to be a writer. Actually, I was a writer, winning awards in high school for poetry and essays. But what I slowly came to realize was, I had no life experience. So you could say that I started living my life in a way that gave me something to write about.

My memoir chronicles seven years of that fully-lived life. From age 18 to 25, I saw some of the world and a lot of adventure, what would later become poignant memories of a man and the times we shared. Now as the fire crackles in the stove and wind howls at the window, I can sit back in my comfortable chair and smile at the story I have written.

But it wasn’t just me writing it. I enlisted the help of my friend, Lizzie Ashworth, to put this story together and make it come to life. I can’t thank her enough!

Ebook buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08121M6VZ
READ FREE! On Kindle Unlimited

Those of us who have multiple pen names usually use them to differentiate one type of writing from another. For instance, I have Dee S. Knight for erotic romance, Anne Krist for non-erotic romance, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter books.

When I first conceived of Anne and later, Jenna, I thought I would use them so readers could avoid confusion as to which kind of book they were picking up. I didn’t consider that writing such different kinds of books meant I would actually be using different personality traits. When a friend pointed it out to me, “What fun!” At her suggestion, I’ve played on the three, whom I’ve termed sisters.

Anne: Dee is the older sister.
Dee: Only by a few minutes. And being older makes me wiser, you know.
Anne: In your dreams, perhaps.
Jenna: I’m the baby and get all the attention, so go ahead and fight it out.
Dee: Keep quiet, Jenna. This discussion is for Anne and me.
Jenna: I’m telling!

Girls, settle down. Years ago, when I conceived Anne, I gave interviews as the two sisters and had such fun I started a blog that featured their opposing personalities, A Little Sisterly Advice, kinda like Dear Abby. Each Sunday night/Monday morning for six years I choose a question and had some fun with it, answering as each author. Anne, is usually reasonable and—

Anne: Did you hear that? She said I was reasonable.
Dee: She’s too nice to say boring.

Ladies, really! Stop sniping. As I was saying, Anne is reasonable in her answers and Dee is…well, not quite so.

Anne: *chuckling* You’re not reasonable.
Dee: *proudly* Damn straight.

*Shaking head* Anyway, I was always looking for good questions mand passed on an eBook for readers who sent one in that I used. I had to remind readers that I am not a psychologist and that my answers were strictly for entertainment. Here’s a sample of a previous question.

Q: My boyfriend of two years says he loves me and has invited me to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner. On previous visits, they’ve made no secret of the fact that they hate my clothing, my hair, my job (beautician)—virtually everything about me. What should I do?
~Not Too Thankful for Dinner

Anne: Talk to your boyfriend, Not Too Thankful. He says he loves you so he should step up to the plate and defend you to his parents. I’m sure he will! And maybe this will be what they need to see the light and realize how important you are to their son. Happy holidays!

Dee: It’s Thanksgiving, so be thankful you’re about to get better advice from me than Anne just gave you. If you’re thinking of marrying this man, remember that it’s better to have a turkey of a Thanksgiving without him this year than to be served up a platter of rejection every year from now on. The fact is, they’ve made “no secret” how little you mean to them. If your boyfriend hasn’t already straightened them out about how he feels about you, your goose is cooked, girl! Get out before someone starts pelting you with cranberries.

This is what I meant when I said I took on the personas of both authors, Anne and Dee. Lord only knows what Jenna would have responded if she’d been around back then!

What do you think of authors having more than one pen name and then revealing them? Should I have kept them secret? Do you enjoy the different personalities, and would they stop you from reading a book from one of the authors? I’m curious!

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist

Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.

Buy link for KU: mybook.to/BurningBridges

About the Author

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex. She is the primary persona of three pen names—triplets, if you will: Dee, Anne Krist, and Jenna Stewart.

As noted above, Dee S. Knight writes erotic romance—emphasis on the romance! She was part of an anthology named a Top Pick in Romantic Times magazine (Resolutions) and the sole author of another Top Pick designation, for the paranormal erotic romance, Passionate Destiny.

“Sister” Anne Krist does not write erotic romance. Her book, Burning Bridges, has received high praise and multiple 5-star reviews because of the depth of the romance and emotion. Burning Bridges is Anne’s first book but she has a series planned that she hopes to have out soon.

Third of the triplets is Jenna Stewart. Jenna has tried her hand at ménage—in both historical and shifter books. She wrote the Sisters O’Ryan series set during the westward migration in the U.S., the Great Wolves of Men-Edge, and Unlikely Bedfellows.

Regardless of the name she uses to write during the day, their dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy. What happens during their nights are their secret.

For romance ranging from sweet to historical, contemporary to paranormal and more join the girls on Nomad Authors. Sign up for Dee’s newsletter with Jan Selbourne and have access to fun free reads. Also, once a month, look for Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: https://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: https://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Thank you for having me, Delilah.

A couple of days ago, I was archiving my 2019 author interviews and guest blogs and it occurred to me that every interview began with the question — “What inspired you to write your book?” The next question asks about our characters — “Are they based on people we know or pure imagination?” “Was the story planned or did it grow as the chapters increased?” And, every author has a different story concerning what inspired him or her to write their story. That’s the beauty of books, each one is new and unique for the reader, taking us on an adventure from the first page.

My first attempts at writing were full of enthusiasm and scenes in my head but lacking in the essential substance – inspiration.

It was by chance while sitting in the doctor’s waiting room that I picked up a three month’s old journal and read an article on how a person’s true character emerges when faced with life-threatening danger or massive upheaval. For example, the tough guy turns to water and runs, the small insignificant person steps up and takes charge. An idea was forming in my head, and again, by chance, I was sorting through old family papers and came across my grandfather’s World War One military record. He served with the Australian Imperial Forces in Belgium and France and was involved in some of the bloodiest battles. He came home but was never the same, and it was years before he could talk about the horrors of that war. I decided to research the events leading up to the German invasion of Belgium in August 1914, and what followed was called The Rape of Belgium. I was reading the atrocities my grandfather spoke about. There was the inspiration and the setting for my first book, Behind the Clouds.

Behind the Clouds

Barely tolerating each other, Adrian and Gabrielle Bryce are trapped in Belgium as the clouds of war loom over Europe.

Plunged into a nightmare of lies and betrayal they flee for their lives as the Germans cross the border. Narrowly avoiding capture, witnessing death and atrocities, they reach safety as two different people – only to face charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see Adrian dead.

Excerpt…

He’d barely slept because of this throbbing foot, and he was as thirsty as hell. Hobbling to the canal he drank the murky liquid, then dipped both his feet into the cold water. He let out a slow sigh as the cool water soothed his aching extremities. Gabrielle knelt at the water’s edge beside him to wash her face and push wet fingers through her hair to slick down the untidy curls. Her voice was low and angry.

“What was she like?”

“What are you talking about?” he scowled, dreading what was coming.

“Sigrid, Maryanne, whatever her name was,” she snapped back.

“What are you trying to do Gaby? Force an argument?”

“No, I’m not forcing an argument. I really want to know. You preferred that woman’s company to mine and your children’s and because of her and my uncle and your unbelievable stupidity, two innocent people have died, and we are forced to rely on each other to stay alive. Are you proud of yourself? And was her beauty and obvious bedroom expertise worth all of this?”

Adrian clenched his jaw and turned away, angry and embarrassed.

“I’m waiting,” she persisted. “I presume you also showered her with gifts and expensive baubles while we would be lucky to see you on our birthdays.”

Something snapped inside him. His face was tight with fury as turned back to face her.

“If I could get up and walk away, I would. Just what are you trying to achieve? We’ve avoided capture by the skin of our teeth, we have no idea how to get away, the Germans are pouring into Belgium, thousands will be killed, and you want to know if I showered her with gifts. Why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here and then you will be free of me? Now for Christ’s sake leave it alone.”

“You want to get up and walk away?” her voice dripped scorn. “Did I walk away from that lonely empty life in that big lonely house? Making excuses to your children, visiting neighbours on my own. Did I show such contempt for our marriage vows?”

“You forgot to mention entertaining Charlton in my home,” he snarled and flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.

“Yes, your home,” she yelled. “I may have lived there and given birth to your children there, but it was always your home. I pray to God we will return to England and you can enjoy your home and your expensive, treacherous harlots!” Her hands clenched into fists. “Yes, Brian did share my bed. You were never there. You couldn’t care less about me or our children. You were so besotted with that German harlot’s devious charms you had no idea what was going on. She was exceptionally clever, and you were exceptionally stupid.”

Adrian rubbed his cheek and pointed his finger at her. “If you hit me again, you will be sorry. You want to know what she was like. I’ll tell you…She had long wavy auburn hair, a figure that made men’s eyes water and yes, she had expertise in the bedroom. She could drink me under the table and she could discuss politics like a man. She was exceptionally clever and yes, you are right, I was exceptionally stupid because I hadn’t a clue she was German or she’d bedded a cabinet minister, or she’d been on other assignments for your uncle. I’ve answered all your questions and I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, but I’m bloody ashamed of myself. And I hope to God we’ll get back to England so you can do whatever you want, and I won’t have to listen to your harping sarcastic tongue. Are you happy now?”

“Oh yes, very happy, thank you. Who wouldn’t be, sitting here with you on the damp ground beside a canal without food or clean clothes,” her eyes glittered with contempt. “How does it feel you, a cabinet minister and my uncle shared her? I wonder if she kept an inventory of her jewelry and gifts to remember who gave her what.”

He pulled his feet from the water and stood up. “I’m not listening to your ranting anymore, nor am I waiting here for them to find me.”

“You can’t face the truth, can you?” she shouted at him. “Well, unpleasant as it is, you need me and I need you to survive. When we reach safety, you can go back to the life you enjoyed with your sophisticated women without the inconvenience of an unwanted wife. And, if we get out of here, I don’t want anything to do with you. Not even a Christmas card.” Her lip curled. “A gentleman never breaks a business contract but it’s of no consequence to break your marriage vows.

Adrian reached down and roughly pulled her up to face him. “I can’t face the truth? It’s a pity you didn’t marry that useless fop Charlton eight years ago, because he’d have been the target for your sainted uncle’s lunacy instead of me! Christ, you haven’t shut up about your miserable marriage but look where it’s got me! Stitched up like a bloody weaver’s loom, set up as a traitor, hiding like a fugitive. And why? Because I had the temerity to marry you.” He turned his back and hobbled over to the grazing horse.

“I’m leaving. Are you coming with me or staying here?”

Gabrielle’s face mirrored the shock she felt at Adrian’s words. Her foot lashed out sending a small log into the water and she walked up to Adrian, her fists clenched, then without warning, she burst into tears. “I have no choice,” her voice was raw with emotion. “All I want is to get out of Belgium and go back to my children and never see you again.”

Adrian gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You’ll get your bloody freedom one way or the other. If we get out of this, I’ll gladly give it. If I’m shot, you can play the grieving widow for a day or two. Now shut up and help me get this horse into the shafts.”

He heaved himself up onto the driving seat knowing damn well they were suffering huge reactions to the events they had witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it again and again. How could he have been so bloody naïve? It wouldn’t matter how loudly he protested his innocence, the fact remained his mistress had wheedled far too much information from him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good, God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the Prime Minister, related to the Foreign Minister. That old fool must be nearly seventy, and you Bryce, are the biggest fool of them all.

Buy links:
https://www.amazon.com/Behind-Clouds-Jan-Selbourne-ebook/dp/B017NSKITO/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/behind-the-clouds-jan-selbourne/1122916686?ean=9780992821593

Author links:
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne
https://nomadauthors.com/JanSelbourne
https://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/

I’m happy dancing all over town because I’ve just released a romance with a Papillon on the cover. Hi this is Tara Lain. I write the Beautiful Boys of Romance, and I love all animals and Papillon dogs, in particular.

My new romance, Passions of a Papillon, is a combination romance, mystery, with a lot of humor. If you’ve ever seen a Papillon, you know why. They’re a riot.

Last year, I saw a Papillon win the agility trials at Westminster — and never stop barking the whole time she ran! Yep, they’re seriously barky, and when you tell them to stop (yell, actually) they look at you like you’ve deeply offended their purpose in life — to inform you of every buttery snail. They say the inventor of the doorbell didn’t have a Papillon.

They’re also the smartest toy dogs (mine weighs just over 8 lbs.) and are one of the top 10 smartest dogs of all sizes. My dog has an enormous vocabulary. We literally spell words, and she often recognizes those – especially c-h-i-c-k-e-n. They’re so smart they can learn any command, but only do them if they want to!

In the book, my pup escapes from some bad people who own her and adopts an originally unwilling lawyer — but she wins him over, of course. And then he takes her to the vet. Hello vet! And Passions of a Papillon is born.

You can get Passions of a Papillon on Amazon and KU: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B083D7HF6W/

Passions of a Papillon

After you’ve sold your soul to the devil, can you renegotiate with a dog?

Brilliant defense attorney, Finn Morgenstern, knows the worst guys pay best, so defending slimeball, Rance Franklin, becomes his path to senior partner and a whole lot of benefits. But then a walk home to his pricey townhouse brings him face-to-ears with a batshit-crazy little dog who just won’t leave him alone. So Finn takes the dog to the local veterinarian to find out how to get her back to her owners. Hello vet! Emerson “Em” Fairweather sure doesn’t match his stodgy name. Tall, platinum blond, and gorgeous, Em puts the pet in pet ownership. But Em has ugly secrets and Batshit dog is up to her ears in larceny. Suddenly Finn is the one who needs defending, and he’s faced with a choice between what he thought was important and a whole new batshit-crazy life.

Contest

If you’d like to enter to Win a $10 Amazon GC hop over here and enter: https://taralain.com/released-passions-of-a-papillon-by-tara-lain-giveaway/

And thank you again to Delilah for having me. Hugs! ~TL

Does anyone else have a big family? Back in the day, everyone had more siblings than your mom remembered to count. I’ve heard those stories about kids being left in grocery stores or never picked up from school (guilty). Then the trend turned to having only a few children, and many of my friends grew up as an only child or with one sibling. I, however, am the oldest of six.

When I was in my twenties, I said no way to a big family. I wanted a couple kids, if any at all. I ended up having five and wouldn’t have shut down the factory if not for my husband (now ex) saying that was enough. I loved having babies, loved raising babies, and I adore everything about big families.

The dynamics between siblings has probably been the focus of many studies, but it only takes a mom to sit back and watch her kiddos interact to realize that they are a breed of their own. We don’t care about loud noises in this house. Was that a scream I heard? Nobody’s crying, so move on. Somebody’s practicing violin or belting out a pirate shanty song in the shower? I didn’t notice. This happens on a daily, which only proves my theory that big families are their own breed.

One of the science teachers in my kids’ high school does a study (I have no clue what the point is), but he makes everyone stand up, close their eyes and be nice and still. Then he throws a book onto the floor. Many people jump or squeal in fright at the commotion, but my kids didn’t even flinch. When this happened to the youngest child, the teacher told him that not one of the Petrovas acted as if anything had happened at all. He seemed surprised by the test, but I’m not. My kids could sleep through WWIII with all the lights on and screamo music in the background.

As a writer, I write what I know and love. For me, writing a big fat cowboy family was so natural. The Dalton Boys has been a series I have laughed and cried through along with the characters. I feel I know these rugged cowboys and sassy cowgirls like they’re my own relatives. This month, the final of the Texas Daltons has gotten her book release, and the heroine means so much to me. She’s suffered the big family messes, scrapes and victories that many of us have, even if we are part of a small family. I hope to see more of these Daltons in the future!

Are you a big family person or small? Do you like to read series with siblings? I’d love to hear from you!

Also, if you’re a lover of steamy hot romance, I’d like to see you on my Facebook page ( https://www.facebook.com/empetrovahardworkingheroes ) and if that’s your tall glass of sweet tea, JOIN ME in my members-only group, the Posse!
( https://www.facebook.com/groups/285592315251592/ )

See y’all there, and thank you for reading!

Em Petrova

About the Author

Em Petrova was raised by hippies in the wilds of Pennsylvania but told her parents at the age of four she wanted to be a gypsy when she grew up. She has a soft spot for babies, puppies and 90s Grunge music and believes in Bigfoot and aliens. She started writing at the age of twelve and prides herself on making her characters larger than life and her sex scenes hotter than hot.

She burst into the world of publishing in 2010 after having five beautiful bambinos and figuring they were old enough to get their own snacks while she pounds away at the keys. In her not-so-spare time, she is fur-mommy to a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff.

Find Em Petrova
Website: https://empetrova.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4342760.Em_Petrova
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Em-Petrova/e/B005D0EXCI
FB Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/empetrovahardworkingheroes
Twitter: https://twitter.com/empetrova
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/em_petrova/
SUBSCRIBE: https://www.subscribepage.com/w4b4s7
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/em-petrova

I think it’s pretty obvious that I love romance. I mean, how can a person write about romance without loving it? One of my favorite past time is curling up with a good romance novel or snuggling under a blanket while watch on television. And it’s fair to say that I love almost everything about romance. Yes, almost. There are some things that I don’t fancy—the biggest one being perpetually beautiful heroines. Now, I’m not saying that heroines can’t be beautiful, and I’m not hating on the pretty girls. And I’m certainly not saying that there is no such thing as natural beauty. However, most women I know put some effort into their appearance. No, I don’t mean facial injections, cosmetic surgeries/procedures, or slathering on layers of makeup. If a woman feels that she wants to do any of those things, it is certainly her prerogative. I’m referring to the heroine who dashes through an obstacle course of fire and water, tumbles down the side of a mountain, sprints ten miles to the nearest roadhouse in stilettos, downs half a dozen shots of premium tequila, hooks up with the local hottie for an evening of adult fun, and manages to look absolutely gorgeous the next morning with barely a hair out of place.

What is even funnier is when, in movies, the “ugly duckling” is beautiful from the beginning. Granted, it is difficult to make bombshells like Julia Roberts, Gabrielle Union, Scarlett Johansson, Ashleigh Murray, Keira Knightly, Zoe Saldana, or Megan Fox look homely or even average. However, it is not impossible. Just look how they transformed Charlize Theron in the movie Monster or Mariah Carey in Precious. One of the biggest criticisms of the film version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is that Hermione Granger’s transformation for the Yule Ball is underwhelming. That was due to Emma’s Watson’s stunning beauty never being downplayed. And no, I’m not suggesting a woman should have to downplay her physical appearance. The point is, most women that I know need to take a few minutes to make themselves look presentable. They don’t roll out of bed looking like a supermodel.

When I discussed this topic with a colleague who is single, she laughed and expressed her fear of what would happen if she got married or a serious boyfriend. She said, “I don’t know how my husband is going to react to sharing a bed with a sea creature. I sleep with a seaweed mask or facial cream nearly every night. I have extremely dry skin and tons of blackheads on my nose. If I don’t follow a beauty routine nightly, my skin looks and feels horrible in the morning. And it’s not in my head, either. Since I started this routine about three years ago, I began receiving compliments on my skin, even without makeup. I’ll be waiting in a checkout line, and a stranger will comment how even my complexion appears.”

Another colleague expressed the following: “It’s difficult seeing unrealistic expectations of beauty. I have a teenage daughter who compares herself with the images she sees on social media. I try to convey to her that most of these aren’t real images because the photos have been airbrushed and retouched. But when these are the images she sees on a daily basis, it’s hard for me to get through to her. I want her to feel positive about her body image, as she is.”

Yet, another colleague said this: “I’m not high maintenance and do the bare minimum. In the mornings, I shower and brush my teeth and hair. I wear comfortable clothes that may not be stylish but are clean and unwrinkled. I wear my nails short and natural but trimmed. I wear sunscreen as a preventive health measure to avoid sun damage and lip balm to prevent my lips from cracking or chapping. I make myself presentable for my job which is very laidback. I’m content that this is my aesthetic. My sister, however, does the most. She is in an industry where fashion matters. She doesn’t go a single morning without either curling or flat ironing her hair unless she has to wear it up. Her face is always beat to the gods. I don’t see how she does it, but she does. She puts a lot of effort into looking that way. But neither of us can hop out of bed and just go to work without doing any grooming. That’s not realistic.”

Realism is an element I want to see in romance novels. This is not a knock at romantic fantasies or science fiction romances. Even in those genres, I must buy into the characters and relate to them. And sorry, I just can’t connect with a character who awakes looking like Sleeping Beauty, and I like a reject from The Walking Dead. Therefore, I write heroines who need a little work. But I don’t stop at my heroines. My heroes are conscious of their appearance—some more than others. No one in my romances gets a free pass. However, I do like getting free stuff.

Contest

The only thing better than receiving is giving, and that is what I’m doing. So, in celebration of the release of Ice Gladiators, my latest sports romance in the Locker Room Love series, I’m giving away the Moon Child Glow Kit by Anastasia Beverly Hills. I picked this palette as a giveaway because it reminds me of many of the themes in Ice Gladiators. The names of the shades include Blue Ice, Star, Purple Horseshoe, Pink Heart, Blue Moon, and Lucky Clover. To enter my giveaway, go to my Instagram page for instructions. Details of the giveaway will be uploaded soon.

Coming February 15, 2020 … Ice Gladiators

Preorder: www.books2read.com/icegladiators

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

Enjoy sports romance and athletic bad boys? Check out my adult romance, Defending the Net. It is the second in my hockey series and guaranteed to melt the ice. It is sold at Kindle, Apple Store, Nook, Kobo, !ndigo, Angus & Robertson, and Mondadori Store. DTN is the second in my gay sports romance novel series and guaranteed to melt the ice. Order a copy now at www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

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

Life’s Roux: Wrong Doors, my steamy romantic comedy about what could go wrong on vacation, is available at Red Sage Publishing. To order, follow the link to https://bit.ly/2CtE7Ez or to Amazon at https://amzn.to/2lCQXpt.

Copies of my romance short stories, anthologies, books, and novels are available in paper, eBook, and audio on Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. The links are listed on my Writing Projects page (https://bit.ly/2iDYRxU) along with descriptions of each of my stories or novels.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and updates about my writing projects, giveaways, contests, and reveals first? Click https://genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com/newsletter/ and signup today.

Don’t forget to visit Creole Bayou. New posts are made on Wednesdays, where no Creole, Cajun, or Louisiana topic is left unscathed. Plus, get how-to self-help tips, how to writing tips, and keeping the romance alive and fresh suggestions. If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors.

Finally, take the fear out of rush/pledging. If you or anyone you know are interested in joining a college Greek life organization, check out my special series posted each Monday for everything you wanted (and didn’t want) to know about college fraternities and sororities. In these posts, you will find information about both formal and informal recruitment for both NPC and NPHC organizations. Don’t know what NPC and NPHC are? No problem. It’s all explained in this series. This series also provides loads of information for parents who are unfamiliar with the processes, what is expected of parents, and how to be supportive. Visit Sorority Bible Table of Contents to view any or all of these posts.

What a phenomenal man Martin Luther King Jr. was. Each time I read his essays and sermons and speeches written fifty to sixty years ago, I marvel at his prescience, his forethought, his ability to inspire as well as be inspired. Asked to find a reading for my church’s 2020 MLK Jr. service, Dr. King’s sermon, “Birth of A New Nation”, called to me.

By the end of 1956 Dr. King had gained national attention because of the success of the Montgomery Bus boycott. In 1957 he, his wife Coretta Scott King and a number of prominent African Americans were invited to witness the independence ceremony of Ghana from Great Britain in March 1957. Moved to tears and joy by the experience, Dr. King went back to his congregation — the Dexter Avenue Baptist church — and in a sermon entitled “Birth of a New Nation”, told the history of Ghana’s struggle for independence and the personal history of its first prime minister, Kwame Nkrumah. Dr. King shared how Ghana’s non-violent ousting of the British intersected with their own fight against segregation. He told his congregation, “Ghana reminds us that freedom never comes on a silver platter.” He warned them to be ready to be spoken about badly, to possibly have their homes and their churches bombed because “freedom never comes easy. It comes through hard labor and it comes through toil” while also reminding them that the aftermath of nonviolence is the beloved community and redemption and reconciliation.

Reading as well as listening to this sermon provided a critique to my mind of many MLK Jr. services I’ve attended over the past thirty-seven years. So many gloss over the hardships Dr. King and those in the civil rights struggle endured but chose to face, so the world could be a better and more just place. Very few acknowledge, as Dr. King did, the connection shared by all struggles against oppression and the importance of making alliances, of fighting not only for your rights but the rights of others. Too often these services focus on the dream portion of his 1963 speech, but not on the bounced check that motivates the fight to make the dream come true.

I hope the portion of this sermon that I chose to share will inspire those attending our MLK Jr. service as the examples of Ghana and Kwame Nkrumah shared by Dr. King inspired the members of the Dexter Avenue congregation. I hope after hearing his words and the songs we sing and the reflections shared, we’ll leave this year’s service with “We Shall Overcome” ringing in our ears, not as a wistful prayer but as a declaration to fight against the injustice anywhere that is a threat to justice everywhere.

May you all have an inspiring MLK Jr. Day, too.

Better To Marry Than To Burn

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Excerpt:

She sidled up to him, cupped his erection and fondled his balls.

“Ready for bed or ready to bed me?”

He moaned, placed his hand atop hers and increased the pressure. Already hard, he hadn’t imagined he could get any harder.

“Is that beautiful brass bed new?”

He gulped. “Ye—yes. Bought it—bought it for the honeymoon.”

“I’m ready to be bedded now,” she whispered. “Or is that something we must negotiate?”

All thoughts of dinner vanished.

“No,” he rasped, leaning forward, as hungry for her lips as he was to be inside her.

“Good.” She stepped back, out of reach. “But, let’s be clear…” She bent over, so her butt protruded toward him. She massaged each buttock so her crack parted invitingly. “Tonight it’s the Greek way or no way.”

He blinked, stunned by this demand to be taken anally. His master had had books filled with drawings, depicting naked Greeks wrestling. Those pen and ink depictions flashed before him now. Arms constrained by arms, legs entwined with legs, butts and groins enmeshed in snug contortions. He’d love to take Queen that way, experience first- hand the erotic intimacy etched in the men’s struggle-laden features.

He took one step toward her then stopped. No. One day, he would…but not tonight. Not their first time. Their first time would be the nose-to-nose, chest-to-breast, cock-to-vagina coupling he’d hungered five years for.

Buy link: https://amzn.to/2KTaGPH
Website: www.michalscott.webs.com
Twitter: @mscottauthor1