One of my favorite hobbies is watching horror movies. I like all kinds, from silent black and white classics to the latest releases. I like the suspense, the often unbelievable characters and plots, and the creepy atmosphere. One of my favorite parts of the horror genre is the romance. Though not all horror movies involve romance, some of the best fictional romances are from horror movies. I have a long list of favorites, but these are three I would like to share and recommend to those who like romance with horror.

Mutants – In this movie, a wife tries to save her husband who has been infected with a zombie virus. The love between the characters is obvious and touching, even when things get really ugly.

Crimson Peak – This movie is really more dark romance than horror. It has appealing characters and a dangerous love triangle or two. It’s also one of the most visually beautiful horror movies I’ve seen.

Bone Tomahawk – This mixed genre movie has more than a few unbelievable moments, but the idea of a guy with a severe leg injury crossing a desert to rescue his wife from cannibals made this work for me. It satisfies my taste for both horror and romance. The biggest plus was the ending. Few horror romances are ultimately this satisfying.

Are you a horror movie fan? Do you like romance with your horror? If you do, what horror romances do you recommend? I’d love to know so that I can add them to my watch list.

Demon’s Grotto

Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

Ben wants Laura to reconsider staying overnight at Demon’s Grotto, and he has information about the club’s history that should convince her. He tells her three creepy love stories, hoping she will change her mind.

Rise of the Creature – When a mad doctor brings a dead man back to life, only his beautiful assistant can make that life worth living.

The Demon Within – A man on the run stops to rest at a rooming house, not knowing that it’s the hunting ground of a gorgeous succubus bent on devouring handsome guests.

Don’t Cry, Wolf – An ad for a maintenance man at a bed and breakfast is answered by a former soldier who is harboring a hairy secret. The business’s lovely co-owner becomes involved with this sullen hunk who’s more than she imagined possible.

After hearing these stories of love and murder, will Laura decide to spend the night at Demon’s Grotto?

https://www.changelingpress.com/demon-s-grotto-demon-s-grotto-1-b-2848

About Kate Hill

Always a fan of romance and the paranormal, Kate Hill started writing over twenty years ago for pleasure. Her first story, a short erotic vampire tale, was accepted for publication in 1996. Since then she has sold over one hundred short stories, novellas, and novels.

When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, spending time with her family and pets and running the Compelling Beasts Blog, dedicated to antagonists, antiheroes, and paranormal creatures. She also writes under the name Saloni Quinby. Connect with her online at https://www.kate-hill.com, https://www.twitter.com/katehillromance, and https://www.twitter.com/compbeastsblog.

Over the last year and a half, I’ve developed an intimate relationship with grief and loss. Among several passings of family, friends, and colleagues, my family lost our beloved grandmother last year, and my amazing uncle at the end of last month. A few evenings ago, I attended the memorial for a friend who we lost to cancer at the end of February, and I was struck by something one of the speakers said. Our friend had been a long-time and well-known member of the folk dance community in Seattle. The speaker talked about the “village” coming together to help the family both financially and in any way to help ease his journey to whatever was next for him. Up until and through the night he died, the village came out to sing, play music, and bring food and relief to him and his family. Her comments reminded me about the village I had for each loss. Our family rallied around both our grandmother and my uncle as they declined and left us. Friends in the acting community came together to offer support to each other for the fairly sudden losses of two of our colleagues in the last year. And the village came together to throw one hell of a wake for our dear friend in the dance community. He said to “Dance every day,” and that evening, we danced in his honor.

Over the course of the last year, I considered the loss of my grandmother and the impending loss of my uncle while writing Saving Parker. Our protagonist, Parker Rice, is dealt a difficult hand. His father died a hero in the military when he was eight, and his mother never got over her husband’s death. Parker further deals with the loss of his mother, first emotionally when she refuses to protect him through a parade of physically abusive men culminating in the worst of them, Earl, taking her away physically. Alone and closed off, he has a hard time trusting anyone. As the novel continues, Parker suffers more losses, but he finds a village of people ready to lift him up. People who would do anything for him and believed in him even in his darkest hours. Parker discovers the mechanisms to deal with each loss and push forward to improve his life and situation with the help of his friends and the man he finds to love.

The fifth installment of the Rain City Tales, Saving Parker, is now available for download on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo. Saving Parker follows Parker Rice, an abandoned and abused thief who needs a second chance, and the attorney with the unconventional family, Anthony Swifson, who falls hard for him but can’t reconcile the eleven years between them. Stay tuned for Rain City Tales Book 6: Song of Salvation due out in July 2019.

Saving Parker

You can order the first Rain City Tales story, The Officer’s Siren, here, Rain City Tales 2, Past Secrets Present Danger, here; Rain City Tales 3, I’m Yours, here; and Rain City Tales 4, The Wedding Weekend, here. Checkout Brent’s website for more details on upcoming books.

Excerpt:

Sunlight streamed through the open blinds of the window, shining against Parker’s closed eyelids. He turned and opened them with a groan. The events of the prior evening flooded his thoughts, and he endured another round of shivers. Even with Anthony’s assurances, Parker didn’t believe for a moment Earl wouldn’t be back.

With a deep breath, he collected his wits and pushed himself up to sit, dangling his legs off the bed. He stared out of the window, taking in the blue sky and the clouds pushing their way across. A cool breeze blew in through the open window, and Parker tugged the blanket around his shoulders. He rose and closed the window, staring across the lush, green lawn to the guest house. A few windows stood open, but he saw no sign of Anthony.

Turning away, he let the blanket fall. He pulled on the boxer briefs next to the bed. Shuffling into the bathroom, his feet met the cold, tiled floor. With a flinch, he stepped onto the small rug and stared into the mirror over the sink. An angry, purple bruise adorned the spot between his collarbone and the left side of his neck. He turned and found four more between his neck and shoulder where Earl’s fingers had dug in. The rest of his bruises from the prior week’s kicks had largely disappeared, but the fresh marks heightened Parker’s anxiety that his mother’s boyfriend would return to exact revenge for the arrest and the injuries.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention. Anthony’s voice filtered into the bedroom. “Parker? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he called and shuffled back to the bed. He grabbed the T-shirt he’d worn the prior evening and pulled it over his head. “You can come in if you want.”

The bedroom door opened to reveal Anthony in a long-sleeved pullover and jeans. “How are you doing this morning?” He stepped inside, but kept his distance, his gaze raking over Parker’s legs.

Parker sat on the bed, staring at the floor. “I’m fine.” He felt the wall of his defenses go up. Even if Anthony never laid a hand on Parker, he would still abandon him like all the others. He fidgeted with his fingers.

“You don’t look okay,” Anthony replied, his voice soothing and patient. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

With a shake of his head, Parker pushed onto his feet. “I should get a shower.”

“Parker.” Anthony’s voice hardened. “Please sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

The tone brooked no argument, so Parker returned to the bed. He continued to stare at the floor but said nothing.

Anthony stepped across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Though within reach of Parker, he kept a respectful distance between them. “You’re thinking about Primack, right?”

Parker nodded, not wanting to discuss the situation but also not wanting to lie. After Anthony had stuck up for him and decked Earl, Parker had enough respect for the attorney not to withhold the truth.

“I’m not sure how to convince you that he can’t hurt you anymore, but can you trust me to follow through on my promise?” Anthony’s calm voice and soothing tone broke a hole in the brick wall Parker had erected.

A breath caught in Parker’s throat. “Trusting guys hasn’t worked out for me.”

With a sigh, Anthony brought a hand to his shoulder, the now familiar gesture adding a modicum of comfort. “I understand. It takes time to build up trust, but I think we’ve both gotten off to a good start. You saved my life last night.”

Parker hazarded a glance at Anthony. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“Why not?”

Hesitating, Parker considered why he’d rushed to Anthony’s defense instead of fleeing the house. He’d never been able to protect himself, but the thought of Earl hurting Anthony stoked an anger he’d never experienced before. This man who hadn’t turned him in to the police, who’d fussed over his bruises and had taken him to the hospital, and most importantly, who’d defended him from his abuser. Anthony cared like his dad had cared.

But even his father had abandoned him.

The barrier he’d erected sealed again, shutting Anthony out, and Parker dropped his gaze. “You’re a nice guy. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Anthony frowned. “Yeah, it was. You put yourself in danger for me. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me, at least until we can get you into college.” He removed his hand from Parker’s shoulder. “In the meantime, I’ve made us breakfast.”

Parker’s traitorous stomach rumbled its approval.

With a chuckle, Anthony strode to the door. “Come down when you’re ready. I’ve got biscuits and gravy with poached eggs and link sausages. Sound good?”

After another stomach rumble, Parker sighed. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Once Anthony had left the room, Parker tugged off the T-shirt and moved to his duffle. He couldn’t trust Anthony not to abandon him. Just finish your sentence and move on. Story of your life.

About Brent

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

When I started writing CUFFED: A Detective Goldie Locks Mystery I had a picture in mind for an adult version of Goldie Locks, based on the fairytale character, with long flowing blonde locks and an impulsiveness that gets her in constant trouble. But finding just the right hero proved harder.

Would her perfect happily ever after be with Beau White or Jack B. Nimble?

Beau White checks all the boy-next-door boxes. While being the fairest man in all the land, he loves Goldie beyond compare, and even had earned the respect of the Bears, her adoptive parents.

Though her history with the tarnished Jack B. Nimble, as well as his bad boy looks, made him a dark horse. Whereas he professes his desire for her, can Goldie trust a man who spent the last fifteen years of his life running cons across all five kingdoms? After all, he’s had one too many faked spills down hills for Goldie’s peace of mind.

If only I had a fairy godmother like that snobby Cinderella to help me choose…

Which romantic hero appeals to you most?
The Boy-Next-Door or the Bad Boy?

CUFFED: A Detective Goldie Locks Mystery

BUY LINK

Detective Goldie Locks isn’t looking for just the right bed. Or any bed for that matter.

She’s on the hunt for a killer.

When she discovers the fingerprints of a once-upon-a-time lover, a man who jumped over a candlestick and out a window to leave her facing some serious trespassing trouble alone, at a crime scene, she vows to see him in handcuffs.

Jack B. Nimble has other ideas.

He threatens her adoptive family if Goldie doesn’t help him clear his villainous name, much to the chagrin of her current boyfriend and quite possibly the next mayor, Beau White, the fairest man in all the land.

Trying to prove his innocence turns out to be harder than she expected, especially when Jack refuses to aid in his defense, and instead, starts a campaign to ‘win’ her back. Goldie might be a blond, but she’s far from dumb enough to fall for his charms a second time.

Or so she tells herself every time his lips meet hers.

The deeper she plows into the rabbit hole and Jack’s soul, the more she learns about his motives for returning to the city—Destroying her perfectly crafted life.

About the Author

J.A. Kazimer lives in Denver, CO. When she isn’t looking for a place to hide the bodies, she devotes her time to playing with a pup named Killer. Other hobbies include murdering houseplants. She spent a few years stalking people while working as a private investigator before transitioning to the moniker of WRITER and penning over 15 titles. Visit her website at jakazimer.com and sign up for her THIS LITTLE PIGGY WENT TO MURDER Newsletter.

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Thank you for having me here, Delilah!

I’m Juno Rushdan and I write steamy romantic thrillers. My debut book, Every Last Breath, comes out April 30 from Sourcebooks Casablanca.

I first began writing while I was an intelligence officer in the Air Force. My husband, who was also in the military, had a tough round of deployments to Afghanistan at the same time we started a family. Handling two kids under the age of two with no support system was brutal, so I left the service. When we moved to the DC area and my eldest entered kindergarten, the idea for Every Last Breath came to me.

My time spent supporting special forces and poring over CBRN (chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear, and high-yield explosive) threat assessments and war-gaming response plans shaped the foundation for the Final Hour series. I tried to convey what it means to be called to serve and the sacrifices one makes through my characters. Readers will find themes that are dear to my heart, such as service before self and fighting for the greater good, along with plenty of action and a sexy romance.

Every Last Breath

48 hours
2 covert operatives
1 chance to get it right

Maddox Kinkade is an expert at managing the impossible for a clandestine agency. Tasked with neutralizing a lethal bioweapon, she must recruit the last person she ever expected to see again: her presumed-dead former lover. Cole Matthews can’t forget or forgive her role in a tragedy that ruined his life. Enlisting Cole’s help may be harder than resisting the attraction still burning between them, but Maddox will do whatever it takes. Soon they find themselves working side-by-side in a breakneck race to stop a world-class killer with a secret that could end everything.

The clock is ticking…

Read an excerpt.

Maddox crossed the room and crouched between Cole’s legs. “I never wanted you restrained, but they insisted.” The note of sincerity from her struck a sensitive chord in him he despised.

Holding his gaze, she patted down his legs, working toward his shins.

Her hand froze on the hilt of his knife. “Nice to see some things stay the same.”

She wriggled his pant leg up, pulled the Ka-Bar, and cut the flex-cuffs on his ankles. Casting a furtive glance toward the door, she hustled behind his chair and freed his hands.

Cole leapt out of the chair and whirled, pinning her against the wall with a hand on her throat, not hard enough to hurt her, only to compel a straight answer from her fork-tongued mouth. But an electric frisson skipped over his skin, stilling him. That magnetic pull to her revived. No matter how much time had passed, it’d never been extinguished.

Talk about fucked up.

“Don’t crowd me,” she said low and controlled, not a flicker of fear in her fiery eyes.

“Or what?”

Tapping on his inner thigh drew his gaze down. She had the tip of his Ka–Bar pointed at his groin. He glanced lower, noticing her shoes.

She wore black tactical field boots. The cushy, expensive kind.

Who had she become? “What’s going on, Maddox? Why are you with those men?”

“We don’t have much time before they come back.” Her gaze darted to the door. “You won’t be able to take the three of us.”

The words had an unexpected sting. “That’s the first time you said us not meaning you and me.” Damn, had that been his out-loud voice?

An unguarded look broke on her face, vulnerable and somber. “You’re the one who left and never looked back.”

She was the one who had wronged him. Every action he’d taken since had been justified. Still, there was a pathetic niggle of regret.

He forced his grip to slacken and stepped back.

She flipped the matte–black blade in her hand like a badass, handle pointing to him. A shimmer of pride and a hint of alarm seeped through him.

He took the knife and shoved it in the ankle sheath. As he stood upright, she handed him the key to his bike.

“I had them get your motorcycle. It’s parked on the west side of the house. Go out through the window. Lay low until nightfall, somewhere the Russians won’t find you.” Honest concern shone in her eyes. “Then come to my place. My address is written on a piece of paper in your pocket. You’ll be safe there and I’ll explain everything.”

She pressed her palms to his chest, her expression softening. He couldn’t help soaking in the bittersweet familiarity of her touch and the intimacy in her gaze. Emotions he’d buried in an unmarked grave in DC, where his previous life had ended, resurrected with a ridiculous kick.

“I need your help. It’s a matter of life or death. Please, come.” Her emphatic tone tugged at him, and he needed a swift boot heel to the head to snap out of it. “I’ll answer any question.”

“Any?” Just like that, she had him hooked. For him, any condensed to one. Why had she betrayed him?

She squeezed her eyes shut for a breath, the faintest quiver running through her, and nodded before glancing at the door. “Hurry, before they come back.”

He hesitated. Would she be okay alone with them?

It was insanity to be concerned for her. Then again, she’d always triggered his protective instincts. At one time, his entire world had revolved around Maddox, and her safety had been more important than his own.

He would’ve sworn by now he was immune to her, but she was an incurable disease out of remission and might put him six feet under for real.

*~*~*

“Every Last Breath is an electric combination of heart-stopping thriller and swoon-worthy romance.” -LEXI BLAKE, New York Times bestselling author

“A spine-tingling thriller you won’t want to put down! Rushdan is a talented new voice in romantic suspense.” -LAURA GRIFFIN, New York Times bestselling author

“Heart-pounding James Bond-ian adventure.” -Kirkus

“Intense and sexy—a must-read romantic suspense!” -CYNTHIA EDEN, New York Times bestselling author

“Rushdan’s fast-paced, gripping debut will…have readers eagerly waiting for the sequel to this arresting romantic thriller.” -Publishers Weekly (STARRED review)

Available for pre-order now:

Amazon: https://bit.ly/EveryLastBreath
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/BN_ELB
Apple iBooks: https://apple.co/2EF3MJv
One More Page Books (for autographed copy): https://bit.ly/SignedCopyELB
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/AddEveryLastBreath

Learn more about Juno at:

Website: Junorushdan.com
Newsletter: https://junorushdan.com/mailing-list/
BookBub: https://bit.ly/BookBubJuno
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/junorushdan/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/junorushdan/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JunoRushdan

Long before Marie Kondo was touting the joys of downsizing and living more minimal, I was clearing out clutter.

When I was growing up, I was probably the only kid I knew who never had to be told to clean their room. And every spring (and fall), on a Saturday afternoon, I’d close myself in my bedroom with the vacuum, a dust cloth, and a garbage bag. When I came out a few hours later, everything had been moved and vacuumed under or dusted. I’d have gone through my closet and bookshelves. Even though my bedroom was only about eight by twelve, I’d have managed to move some of the furniture around.

As an adult, I’m still the same. I’ve already started going through cupboards and closets getting things together for the big family yard sale we usually have every year over at my brother’s place. The thing is, tastes change. Things I’ve enjoyed for a few years may no longer suit my style. And that’s okay. I’ve used and enjoyed them and now it’s time to let them go. That makes space for things I do love. The yard sale is a fun family day and gives me a few dollars to put toward something I might like. What doesn’t sell gets taken off to charity. Everyone wins!

If you need a break from your spring cleaning, why not check out Embroidered Fantasies, the next book in my Tapestries series.

Embroidered Fantasies
Tapestries, Book 5

With her abusive ex-husband safely behind bars, Roxanne Sykes is trying to carve out a quiet life for herself. Just as she’s beginning to feel free to explore her new possibilities, word reaches her that her cruel ex has been released from prison. When he shows up at her door bent on destroying her, it’s only through the magic of a well-loved tapestry that Roxanne is whisked away to safety—and into the world of a warrior she’s known only from her fantasies.

Radnor Craddock has known only a life of violence and brutality at the hands of his older brothers. Now that they have fallen in battle, Radnor and his twin brother Sednar can finally put their house in order. Just as their efforts are bearing fruit, fate smiles upon them again by delivering a potential tapestry bride to their doorstep. Well aware of what they must do to win her hand and her heart, the brothers dedicate themselves to granting Roxanne every imaginable pleasure, driving her to sensual heights unlike any she has ever known.

With each new erotic encounter stirring a loving bond between the three, Roxanne is tempted to accept the promise of the tapestry and make a new life and new home with the brothers. But she has trusted before and been painfully wrong, and she’s frightened by the whisperings of the brothers’ violent past. Unsure of herself and threatened anew when her merciless ex finds his way to her once again, Roxanne must trust her heart as the brothers vow to protect her and destroy her ex—and to give her a life and love she had never dreamed possible…

BUY LINKS:
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NLFVZYC/
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/929612
Barnes & Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1021397126
Kobo:
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/embroidered-fantasies-1

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:
Website: https://www.njwalters.com
Blog: https://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Group: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/awakeningdesires/info
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

I was one of those lucky children whose mother did not enforce gender specific activities. My brother and I, treated as equals, each participated in the same activities (with the exception of ballet, which my brother felt no interest in pursuing). I came home with skinned knees, ripped clothing (my poor mother, good thing she knew how to sew; a skill I never learned), and coated in dirt. While most girls my age were playing with dolls, I was building forts. However, I got to do the most interesting things; fencing, archery, rock climbing. I learned that I was capable of anything I put my mind to, that gender was not a hinderance. This independent spirit has followed me through life.

I was given a choice, a pinnacle moment in my life, when I decided to remain that way, instead of conforming to expectation. As a freshman in college, I lamented to my father that I was single (which really shouldn’t be the focus of a college freshman, but let’s be honest with each other). He gave me some fatherly advice. If you are interested in getting a boyfriend, you will need to learn to be less independent.

My jaw dropped. Learn to be less; less intelligent, less passionate, less of me.

I wrestled with that suggestion for a while. Could I be less of me?

In A Perfect Plan, I pose that question to my heroine, a tomboy who is struggling to fit into society. One of my favorite scenes is at one of those tedious society functions. Samantha is debating how to escape the party in which she finds herself trapped. What I love about her is that she doesn’t consider whether or not the activity is safe, but whether or not she could make it over the balcony railing before she is caught.

“May I ask you one question?” Lord Westwood gazed at her with a peculiar expression.

“Certainly,” answered Sam, tearing her eyes away from Wilhelmina’s glee.

“What were you concentrating on with such intensity when I threatened to tell the story of our first meeting?”

Sam glanced down, a red tinge crawling up the back of her neck, indicating the balcony with a slight jerk of her head. “Whether or not I could make it over the railing before Wilhelmina realized I was missing.”

“What did you intend to do once you climbed over the balcony?” asked Lord Westwood.

“I was planning to shimmy down the column, using the ivy as a rope.” Sam lifted her head, a tiny smile pulling at her lips. “She would never catch me once I reached the drive.”

Lord Westwood struggled to keep his face neutral. “Do you think about escaping ballrooms often?”

“More often than I would care to admit.”

“I suppose, as a gentleman, I would have to attempt to prevent you from injuring yourself even if that caused a public scene.” Lord Westwood clasped his hands behind his back, casting his eyes upward with a dramatic sigh. 

“Dragged away from the balcony in full view of society by Lord Westwood—that would definitely be one more mark against me,” murmured Sam.

A PERFECT PLAN is available on all platforms and on sale this week
for 99 cents.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Alyssa Drake has been creating stories since she could hold a crayon, preferring to construct her own bedtime tales instead of reading the titles in her bookshelves. A multi-genre author, Alyssa currently writes Historical romance, Paranormal romance, Contemporary romance, and Cozy mystery. She thoroughly enjoys strong heroines and often laughs aloud when imagining conversations between her characters.

Website: https://alyssadrakenovels.com
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I’m often asked, if someone wrote a song about you what would the title be?

My answer is that someone actually did, a few years ago.

“The Outsiders” by Eric Church.

Now, anyone who knows me knows how much I love the guy’s music. He uses words in a way that maximize the emotional impact of a song. His music, even the rowdiest, is always simple in lyrics, and honest. He never names a feeling, but wow, how those exact feelings are shown and wielded like a blade. Okay, my books ride along 60,000 words while a song has between one hundred and three hundred, but I wish I had his talent to show them.

His latest record, Desperate Man, is on repeat on my record player. I put it there when I bought the vinyl, and it still has to leave.

That being said, his song “The Outsiders” is for me. Only for me.

Mostly because I understand. Mr. Church is tad angrier than me, but it still works perfectly (I do am prone to anger, anyway).

I’ve always been an outsider, and I’m saying this with no rebellious attitude. Even less, looking for understanding or whatever else. It’s just what it is. Who I am, and I always lived the definition comfortably.

One way or another I’ve lived a loved life since day 1, I’m a happy, ‘solved’ person. My own person–which makes me an outsider.

I would go horse riding after school, and to pay for my horse’s full livery I shoveled a whole lot of horses’ manure. Okay, I loved doing it, and I would have done it even if I was rich enough to pay for that. I did so deliberately and not to spite the established cool kids’ gang, those going clubbing during the weekend and throwing parties. The cool kids were actually nice and always invited me–and I politely declined. It was simply what I wanted to go riding and shoveling, and didn’t care about what the others did. Nobody ever bugged me, by the way.

I went into law school because I love the idea, the nature, and the spirit of the law (that’s why I always say I’m no lawyer, I’m a scholar of law). And there, I found myself in a less-than-10%-female environment. Remember, we’re talking Italy 20 years ago. Even now, we’re not up there with Sweden and Iceland when it comes to women’s equality. Our centenarian professors, the holder of the dignity and rightness of a man-handled law world (can you hear the mockery here? Good), didn’t treat us girls with flowers and poetry. There were tiers of students, and we weren’t the top one. I didn’t care for that, too. I studied hard, had excellent grades, so much so I managed the entire time with full scholarships.

I have MS, don’t care about it either. The bitch tries to slap me down, I let it believe it’s winning. All the while, I work around it to my target. Yes, it takes me longer. Yes, it’s harder. But at the end of the day (or the week, or the month), I’ll have my way.

I married my high school sweetheart, not out of habit, to settle down, or even out of love only. I did it because he’s the only one who earned 100% of my trust. And he’s a badass.

I was a Country Music fan in the UK. Almost unheard of back then.

I’m an Italian in Florida. Even more, I’m an Italian mom in the States. Yes, it’s different.

Every step of the way, everything and everywhere I’ve ever gone, I’ve always been an outsider, looking at what the majority of people did and shrug it off if I didn’t like it. I never cared about anything anyone ever did, and that always made me different. A winner, sometimes. A loser, others. Eh, life, right?

The only pack I’ve ever lived with is the one made of my husband and son.

As Mr. Church says, I do my talking, walk my walk.

Which gets me in any number of troubles, really.

But then again, who cares? I’m sure I’ll come out of it, somehow.

Crescent Creek Collection
Special offer 99 cents

From the cold Canadian border, the US1 runs along the east coast with patience. Southbound, always south, until it reaches the Sunshine State.

Not the fastest way, sure, but if you have time to drive it all the way down, you might find yourself lost in one of the coastal towns that dot the US1 like little jewels.
Maybe that town’s name is Crescent Creek.

These are the stories of its people.

All Those Miles I Walked ~ Crescent Creek 1

At eighteen, DJ made a choice–her heart or her dreams. Neither was wrong, yet either would break her heart. She chose the world. Over a decade later, she returns to Crescent Creek and to the one regret she’s ever had–Scott.

Scott’s always been steady as a rocky reef. He’d loved once and when she’d left, his strong heart had crumbled like a sandcastle. Now DJ is back, and Scott wants nothing to do with her. If only Eva, his and DJ’s old friend, didn’t need their help. Because of her, he’s stuck with DJ and he’d be damned, she still gets under his skin.

DJ is a free spirit who needs the road under her feet. Scott is a family man who wants to groom his roots. With danger on their doorstep and a baby to keep safe, how much are they willing to compromise for love?

Painted Love ~ Crescent Creek 2

Thou shalt not steal.

Oh, but Florence had, and would do so one last time. Ten pieces her grandfather painted for her because he loved her. Ten pieces her mother lost, along with anything else, for loving the wrong man. She couldn’t get back everything he’d wasted away, but she’d be damned if she’d give up those paintings.

Easy and genuine, Rhett loves his life–his family, his market, his town. Until he meets a British woman with grey eyes and a cute little smile. The woman he’s been waiting for. The thing is, to love her is easy, but can he trust her?

When Rhett pushes to uncover her agenda, Flo knows she will lose something–the man she loves or what she’d been fighting for years. Which road will she choose?

His Midnight Sun ~ Crescent Creek 3

Tormented, fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty. He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptance but has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and risk his heart and soul.

Summer’s managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding, breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type, though. All she has to do is ignore the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?
Love can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash devastation and revenge.

Will Aidan and Summer survive the hurricane?

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THE AUTHOR

Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.

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