Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Excerpt from COVERED IN PAINT

I'm not very far along with the book yet, but I know you're all waiting to see what's going on with Brooke and Drake. They're off to a slow start, but a sexy one. In the opening scene, I wanted to show a little bit of where Brooke and Drake worked. Yes, I know they are being bad on campus. Let's just say it was a nod to those of you with teacher fantasies.

Okay, enough intro. Here's a draft of Chapter 1. Keep in mind it will change some. Do let me know what you think about it. I have no date, but I will post other snippets as I go along.

Happy reading.

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“So Dr. Daniels, I have a question. Are all philosophers secretly geeks? Or was Descartes an exception? The whole brain in a vat thing sounds like a bad movie plot. Were there any zombies in his theory? If he were alive today, Descartes could open a restaurant that served brains and make a fortune.”

Brooke crossed her arms, mildly glaring at her most annoying pupil, who also happened to be the most promising one in this particular class. If only he didn’t grandstand so much, but she knew young Mr. Shinkel hadn’t figured out yet that it kept him from being taken seriously.

“Are you worried about a zombie eating your brain, Darren?”

With only two minutes left, Brooke became resigned to the class discussion ending on a joke. The other students laughed at her verbal volley back to him.

“Yes. If Descartes is right, I’d just as soon know about where the vat is and what kind of condition my brain is in currently.” Darren offered a wider grin when everybody else laughed.

“A zombie wouldn’t want your warped brain, Shinkel. Get over yourself.”

Brooke laughed as another student, a friend of Darren’s, took over the harassing, sparing her further rebuttal. Inside she was secretly sighing in relief, but hoped they couldn’t see. Darren had a habit of hanging back after class and it was starting to make her uncomfortable. It happened nearly every session now. She had been plotting about asking Shane to show up in a sleeveless shirt now and again just to create the impression that she was dating someone more intimidating than any of her students.

A far off bell ringing interrupted her. It wasn’t the right timing, but the students broke out the moment it sounded anyway.

“Quiz Thursday on Descartes. Finish the reading.” Brooke laughed as she yelled, hoping to be heard over the mad scramble happening at the back of the room. It was always crazy to watch twenty-two students try to push through the room door to exit at once.

Seconds after her yelled announcement, complete silence fell. All she could hear then was the rustle she was making as she gathered up her things. There was rarely a line wanting to extend class discussion even though college students were often natural philosophers.

Problem was they rarely could hold any one thought long enough to see it through to any logical conclusion. She was going to have to get creative in finding ways to teach them to extend their thinking on a single subject beyond their class time.

“I think I like the idea of being just a brain in a vat. It would be nice to think someone else was pulling the strings on the mess I call a life.”

Drake walked into the room, smiling at Brooke’s soft laugh. She was damn appealing, when she wasn’t furious at him.

“Hi.” Brooke smiled at Drake’s uniform of khakis and a polo. It was his teaching uniform, but his shirts did some pretty amazing things to those shoulders of his. She looked at her own slacks and sweater, shaking her head at the similarities. “Everything turn out alright for Brandon and his car?”

“Mostly. I’m just glad it broke down in Ohio instead of Pennsylvania. I know I could have just called the tow service, but I didn’t want to leave him stranded overnight by himself.”

Drake slipped his hands into his pockets, stunned once more to find them wanting badly to be on the young and beautiful Brooke Daniels instead.

“You are a lousy date Mr. Barrymore, but a good father.”

Brooke grinned nonchalantly at the nervous man while butterflies danced in her own stomach. Hopefully it was just because Drake was so damn good-looking. She’d hate to think it was that one kiss in her mother’s kitchen that had her so intrigued.

Maybe he was just growing on her because she wasn’t looking beyond him any more. Exclusivity had never worked out well for her. But after a couple seriously lousy dates, Drake leaving their dinner to rescue his son was still the best date she’d had in weeks.

“It was Brandon’s first time to the make the trip back from Harvard alone. I think he’s wishing he’d picked a closer college now.”

Brooke laughed. “And that’s why I picked Columbus. That seemed far enough away from mom without being too far to come home when I wanted.”

Drake nodded. “Sounds like a smart strategy for you.”

“It was self-preservation.”

Brooke laughed as she gathered her teaching materials into her arms.

“My mother was my best friend, but I still wanted the longest leash I could manage. I didn’t want to debate every decision of my college life with her. That independent woman thing is an act for the benefit of handsome men. My mother would have made a great prison guard.”

“Like I said—very smart.” Drake snorted and held the door open for Brooke to walk through. “I have to ask though—what could Jessica possibly disapprove of with a daughter more conventional than she is? Your mother walks to the beat of a drum I’m certain no one else ever hears but her. I have great admiration for Will.”

Brooke laughed at the dryness of Drake’s tone as well as at the truth of his words.

“Don’t let that cavalier artist persona fool you into thinking she’s not conventional in her habits. My mothers likes her daily rituals. And she requires a lot of quiet alone time to ponder her work. I disturb her space when I’m around, especially since I like to watch TV and listen to music. Mom and Will are quite well matched. I tell myself that all that dating she did finally paid off.”

“Ever found yourself ‘well-matched’ with anyone,” Drake asked, grinning when Brooke slowed her walk to turn an interested gaze to him. He fell into her amused eyes, unable to see anyone else around them. More amazing was that he had no reservations about it whatsoever this time.

Desire for her rolled over and through him. He decided he was really tired of fighting the feelings she stirred up. He just wanted to be with her.

“Me well-matched? Not so far.”

Brook made the remark casually, choosing to momentarily ignore the thorough inspection of Drake’s gaze running over her in a way too possessive manner.

“I think my luck has just gotten worse. The guy I’m currently interested in keeps standing me up. He makes these lame excuses about having to help his child who seems remarkably talented at having crisis after crisis. I’m kicking myself daily because his ‘concerned parent’ routine intrigues me, even when I end up alone at the damn end of the evening.”

“I assure you that all my child crises are solved for the moment. And I swear the man you’re dating is just as tired of waiting as you are.” Drake narrowed his eyes, pleased at Brooke’s flirty laugh. There was a time not so long ago that he thought Brooke would never be that relaxed with him. “Trust me, Ms. Daniels. I’m ready for a real date. One that ends a hell of a lot better than our last.”

Brooke spied an empty classroom near the end of the hallway they walked. She picked up Drake’s hand and dragged him inside the dimly lit room with her. When they were tucked along the side of the wall, she whispered ‘kiss me’, pleased when he did exactly that with no hesitation at all.

His mouth moved on hers with the same level of confidence she always heard in his voice. She put a hand on Drake’s chest to keep a bit of distance between them. Mostly because she didn’t trust herself not to escalate the kiss into a whole lot more.

When Drake finally removed his mouth from hers, they were both breathing hard. Brooke shook her head at the way her heart was trying to beat it’s way out of her chest. Sure Drake kissed well, but how did he reduce to her to a mass of quivering nerves every time? Her inquiring gaze met his focused, determined one, and a shiver honest to God traveled down her spine

“My God, I want to do that with you until I get my fill,” Drake said hoarsely, moving to her side to avoid the bulge of the armload she carried. “Come home with me. Brandon is staying with friends until tomorrow. I promise no crises other than ours this time.”

Brooke sighed at his offer and closed her eyes. If she had found a law student who had talked that way, she’d probably be married by now.

“You are definitely Descartes’ demon where I’m concerned, Dr. Barrymore. But you already know that, don’t you? You mostly irritate me and yet I still want to kiss you every time I see you. What secret power do you have over me?”

“Well. . .I do want to control you, but only your body,” Drake whispered, moving his mouth to her cheek, skimming it with his breath and then his lips. Brooke tasted better than all the fantasies he’d had about her. “How about I promise not to try to put your brain in a vat no matter what happens? And I swear I will step in front of you in case of a zombie attack.”

“Brandon would be so proud of you.” Brooke giggled as she watched Drake’s smiling mouth descending once more to hers.

A throat clearing in the room and a small “excuse me” had them pulling apart.

“Sorry,” Brook said, rising away from the wall. “Oh—hi, Arielle.”

“Hi Dr. Daniels. Class will be starting in here soon. Anyway. . .sorry to interrupt,” Arielle stammered out, her gaze jumping from the uber sexy art teacher everyone talked about to the new philosopher professor who was super nice, but hard. When Dr. Barrymore smiled knowingly at her, she completely understood why all her friends had declared him the sexiest teacher on campus. She’d have risked getting caught with him too.

“I liked your paper on Aristotle. Nice work,” Brooke said, smiling at the girl still staring in awe at Drake. She would have snorted at the girl’s awe of the older man, but given the circumstances, that would just have made her a hypocrite.

“Thank you,” Arielle said, swallowing as she pulled her gaze away from the man slipping a hand in pocket with grin.

“See you in class Thursday.” She and Drake slipped out the door, smiling as Arielle nodded.

Out in the hallway, Drake put a discreet distance between their bodies and sighed heavily. Brooke snickered at the guilty look on his face. “Some bad boy professor you turned out to be. You’re practically blushing.”

“Want me to tell you why I’m feeling guilty? My lustful thoughts about us would even make Jessica Daniels’s daughter blush.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t shock very easily, but you better save the explanation for dinner, just in case. What time should I come over?” Brooke hoisted her load higher as she turned in the direction of the faculty parking lot.

“Is seven okay?” Drake put both hands in his pockets to keep from touching her one last time.

“Seven works for me,” Brooke said, winking at him before she strode off.

At her car, she set everything on the trunk to dig her keys out of her book bag. When she felt eyes boring into her, she looked back to see Drake offer a wave before sauntering off. It gave her an odd feeling to realize the man had been looking out for her as she went to her car. She couldn’t recall ever having a man be openly solicitous of her safety.

In fact, Drake Barrymore was turning out to be a first for her in many ways, starting with his ability to turn her to giggling mush with his poetic words. Her lust was running so high at the moment, she couldn’t recall why she had practically hated him when they first met.

A sigh of longing escaped, defying even her well-developed sense of self-preservation. What she was feeling for Drake wasn’t logical. What could she possibly want with a older man who was still hung up on his dead wife? Obviously, the sooner she slept with Drake, the sooner she would get over this silly infatuation she had developed for him.

It was the way he kissed.  And the way he’d flirted with her at the gallery opening. She couldn’t stop thinking about him—or wanting to kiss him again.

Her logical mind informed her daily that a forty-two year man was more suitable for a woman her mother’s age, than for her. Unfortunately, the rest of her body was refusing to listen to any solution that didn’t end with her getting naked with Drake.

She chalked up her obsession to her own raging hormones, since in her thirties she was allegedly hitting her peak—whatever that meant. As far as she could tell, her mother hadn’t peaked yet. Maybe her female gene pool was extraordinary.

“It’s okay Brooke,” she said to herself as she tossed her belongings in the backset. “No matter how old or young, men are all pretty much the same when the lights are out. Drake Barrymore is not ‘the one’. He’s just the one for now. A couple of weeks and you two will be nothing more than just good friends who slept together once.”

But the excited, hopeful gaze in the rear view mirror belonged to a smiling, illogical woman she didn't recognize.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Robyn Peterman wonders HOW HARD CAN IT BE?

From time to to time, I feature the books of author friends on my blog. I especially enjoy this when they are releasing their first ever books. Today it's my pleasure to feature Robyn Peterman, author of HOW HARD CAN IT BE? 

Robyn's website
I was lucky enough to beta read an early version of this title, but I've also pre-ordered my finished copy. The book is hilarious, and maybe a little too realistic for me because it's about a woman who decides to write a romance. 

Another blogger commented that the hot cop in the book makes you want to get arrested. I'll second that sentiment for sure. I especially liked the initial kissing scene between Rena and Jack. . . anyway--where was I? Oh yeah. . .

Let's just say I'm never revealing which one of Robyn's romance writer characters I most relate to or fear being, but since you all know my work best, you're free to comment if you want. 

WARNING: future romance authors beware. There are OMG moments galore in this book and multiple bathroom trips in your future from laughing so hard while reading it. 

Look at you, Robyn. You're a published author now! I'm so proud of you!

What reviewers are saying

"How Hard Can it Be? is outrageous, profane, hilarious, sexy, and all kinds of wacky. For a good time, read Robyn Peterman!"   ~ MICHELLE ROWEN, national bestselling author

"A zany over-the-top rompfest."   ~ LEXI GEORGE, author of Demon Hunting in a Dive Bar


Buy it at Amazon!
Book description

What happens when an accountant decides to grab life by the horns and try something new? Apparently a pirate named Dave, a lot of pastel fleece, and blackmail—just to start with... Visualize and succeed, Oprah said. I was sure as hell trying, even if my campaign to score a job as the local weather girl had ended in a restraining order. Okay, TV was not my strength. But a lack of talent has never stopped me before. Which is why I’ve embarked on a writing career. I mean, how hard can it be to come up with a sexy romance?
     
Leave it to me to wind up in a group of porno writing grannies who discuss sex toys and apple cobbler in the same breath. Also leave it to me to leak an outlandish plot idea to a bestselling author with the morals of a rabid squirrel. And only I could get arrested for a jewelry heist I didn’t commit—by a hunky cop whose handcuffs just might tempt me to sign up for a life of crime. Maybe I’ve found my calling after all...
 
Mini-interview with the author 
(I asked Robyn to answer just a couple of questions for me)

Donna:  So Robyn, how hard was it writing a romance? Come on, tell us the truth. 

Robyn:  Actually, since romance novels are what I’m obsessed with, it wasn’t all that hard. . .it was kind of soft. Kidding. I adore happily ever afters, a hot hero, a strong heroine, a viciously evil bad guy and a gaggle of porno writing grannies. Soooo, in my warped mind it made sense for me to spew out a romance. You’ll probably have to read the book to figure out what in the hell I’m talking about!!

Donna:  What's next for you creatively? Got another book coming out?


Robyn:  God, I hope so! Actually, I have a sexy, funny paranormal coming out in April called FASHIONABLY DEAD and the sequel to HOW HARD CAN IT BE? tentatively called SHE LIKES THEM BIG AND HAIRY! comes out in June.


Excerpt from HOW HARD CAN IT BE?

“If you handcuff a woman to a headboard, you need to use fur-covered cuffs. Otherwise you’ll rub all the skin off of her wrists during rough sex, and she’ll bleed like a motherf---er. Blood is just not sexy unless you’re writing paranormal.” The gal with the lesbian haircut delivered that little nugget with gusto.

What in the hell am I doing here? I’m going to kill Oprah. Does anybody actually listen to her ‘if you can visualize it you can do it’ crap other than me? Becoming a famous romance novel writer had sounded like such a good idea the other day. The simple fact that I couldn’t really write had seemed beside the point...
          

My best friend and roommate, Kristy, accused me of pulling a Sunshine Weather Girl again, referring to my embarrassing and very recent attempt to become a meteorologist. Kristy’s reminder was a low blow. I didn’t like to think about that. Clearly showing up at the news station for a month straight wasn’t the way to become the new weather girl. It had resulted in a restraining order, six hours in the pokey, and a feature story on the six o’clock news. My mother told all her friends I was adopted...I wasn’t.          

Follow Shoshanna LeHump on Twitter
So here I stood, in the poorly lit back meeting room of the downtown public library, with ten or so women who looked like seventy-year-old church ladies. Why do women in the Midwest think that really short hair shaved up at the back of the neck is a good look? I found out the bondage gal’s name was Sue, but she went by Shoshanna LeHump. Quite the little fireball, she was dressed entirely in lavender fleece. She explained her husband had threatened to divorce her if she continued to write that garbage under her real name. Her words, not mine. I didn’t know if I was more shocked by her pen name or the fact that she was married.
         

 I glanced around the room hoping to spot Evangeline O’Hara, the famous New York Times best-selling author. She wrote a mean bodice ripper and was the main reason I’d joined this group. I hoped she’d like my ideas and mentor me to stardom. Of course, ideas were a slight problem at this point, but I would continue visualizing like hell.
         

 I was looking forward to discussing Evangeline’s books with her, until Kristy, not unkindly, had reminded me I hadn’t read any of them.
         

 “Turkey Noodle Dooda Surprise served with Tater Tot Casserole can really get your amorous juices flowing,” the one who called herself Nancy gushed. Her floral caftan reminded me of Hawaii. The quintessential grandma had no last name. Apparently she had legally changed her name to Nancy...you know, like Cher or BeyoncĂ© or Gaga.
          

Follow Rena Gunderschlict on Twitter
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “I thought this was a romance writers meeting.” My insides clenched. This couldn’t be right. I must be in the wrong room, or hopefully the wrong building.
         

 “It is,” Shoshanna LeHump said. “Nancy writes romantic cookbooks!”
         

 “Oh, aren’t you a lovely thing.” Nancy smiled and squeezed my hands. “Are you a cover model?”
         

 “Um, no. I’m actually a, um...writer,” I white lied. I do write things. I’m a CPA, for God’s sake. I just happen to write numbers instead of words.
         

 “Shoshanna,” Nancy called out to the handcuff-loving porno granny, “we have a new writer!”

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Printed NTL Series Giveaway

Happy 2013! I thought I would start the year with a giveaway. This month, I will be giving away a printed set of Books 1-5 of the Never Too Late Series.

To enter, just tell me which character was your favorite in the series. Every other question or task of the giveaway will increase your chances. Contest ends on January 31. The winner will be selected Feb 1.

Good luck everyone!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, December 21, 2012

New Release: Quickies Vol 1

Looking for something to read while you have a few days off this holiday season? Pick up the discarded wrapping paper later. The dishes can wait too. Take a break and read for short while.

QUICKIES VOLUME 1 had three stories in one book. Like a box a chocolates, you can read one and save the other two for later. Or not. <smile>

In "Her Best Mistake", Lisa Dennison ends up in bed with the wrong man. Or maybe she doesn't. Finn Roberts certainly doesn't think it was a mistake.

In "Teach Me", Leslie Mercer returns to her hometown to visit her old boyfriend and finds out his younger brother has had a crush on her for years. Grayson has been waiting for this chance all his life.

In "Cruising Speed", the Larson men from the Art of Love Series are matchmaking without realizing it. A friend of theirs, Kia Anders, sells a bike to another friend, Mikkel Gunnarsen. Their instant connection is bad timing for both and yet too exciting to ignore.


Click here to read a short excerpt from each.

Price $2.99
66,834 words

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

Apple (available via ibooks)

Smashwords

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Excerpts from QUICKIES Volume 1

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. Here are some short samples of the three stories  contained within Quickies Volume 1 (releasing soon).

In "Teach Me", a summer vacation for an elementary school teacher ends up in her helping an old boyfriend from high school with a head injury. The surprise is not Murphy being stuck in the past, but rather in meeting back up with his younger brother, Grayson, who's had a secret crush on Leslie for years. Not quite a cougar story, but definitely a younger man/older woman theme. 

"Her Best Mistake" is the story of a woman accidentally getting involved with the wrong brother. I love stories about mistaken identities. Plus I always wanted to do one about getting twins mixed up. And yes--this is another cougar story. What can I say?

The last piece is called "Cruising Speed". I wrote it out of guilt for not finishing "Covered In Paint" this year, but had great fun writing my favorite kind of older woman/younger man story. I wanted fans of the Art Of Love series to have a little something this year. So here is a definite cougar story, but with a motorcycle twist. You see I'm a Harley and the guy in my life is a Triumph GT. So I definitely know what it's like to be an older woman who feels like she's moving at different speed. And that's why I had to make Mikkel so irresistible that Kia just could not turn him down. The Larson males and their wives all have cameo appearances.

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Snippet from TEACH ME

Leslie Mercer swung her blue Honda Civic into the old familiar driveway. She turned off the car and then just sat in the blistering July heat trying to remember why she’d felt compelled to give up her precious summer vacation for Murphy Webb. To say she didn’t want to be back here in Brenham, Texas would be an understatement, but to be back and have to deal with Murphy again seemed a worse fate.

Flipping the mirror down to check her face, she raked fingers through dark bangs that had gotten windblown on the drive from College Station. Despite the intense heat, she had needed fresh air more than cool, so the windows had been down for most of the trip. Now she was sticky and dirty, but her mind was at least clear.

She felt sorry for the Webb’s family trauma and truly sorry that a head injury had caused Murphy memory problems. Unfortunately, her memory was still very clear.

It seemed like yesterday, instead of eight years ago, that she’d caught Murphy pounding himself into Sheila Watson in his car the weekend she’d left for college. Since Murphy had declared that he wanted to marry her just the night before, the memory still stung something fierce. She had moved on certainly, but Leslie had no desire at all to take a walk down that particular old lane again, and yet here she was sitting in the car outside his house. Okay, you agreed, she reminded herself, so let’s do this.

Leslie tried to look for the positives. This was what she was constantly telling her fourth grade students at Sul Ross Elementary to do all the time. So she did what she always did to sort things out. She made a list in her head.

Positive #1: It would be good to see Mrs. Webb again. She had always been fond of her. Murphy’s mother had been much more domestic than her own mother, filling the Webb house with the smell of cookies baking or dinner cooking. Leslie had hung for her as much as for Murphy at times.

Positive #2: She wouldn’t mind seeing how Murphy’s brother Gray had turned out. He’d been fourteen the last time she saw him. Now with the ink barely dry on his civil engineering degree, she’d heard from his mother that he’d been hired by a firm in Bryan, a sister city to where she lived.

Deciding that those two positives balanced out the negative of seeing Murphy, she climbed from the car, pulled her wet clothes away from her sweaty body, and walked to the front door. Mrs. Webb swung it open and threw her arm around Leslie before she even let her inside.

“Oh, bless you, Leslie honey. Thanks so much for coming. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” She pulled Leslie by the hand into the house. “Come into the kitchen. I just made some fresh ice tea. Gray is out back. I can’t believe you cut your beautiful long hair. I guess school teachers would find long hair hard to keep up.”

“No,” Leslie said. “I just like my hair short now and again. It grows really fast.”

“It must be at least four or five years since I last saw you. You still look as good as ever.” Mrs. Webb put the ice tea on the counter near where Leslie stood, arms folded.

“It’s been eight years,” Leslie said easily, not meaning to be unkind but feeling a need to emphasize that it had been a long time.

In the mudroom off the kitchen, Leslie heard the screen door open. A giant yellow and brown dog rambled through the kitchen moments later.

“That’s my Lucas,” Mrs. Webb said.

“Well, aren’t you a beauty,” Leslie cooed, stooping to pet the golden retriever/collie mix behind the ears. He licked her in happy abandon as she praised him. She giggled over the wet welcome, thinking it was most excitement from a male that she’d seen in a while. Sighing over her dormant love life, she hugged the dog in sincere appreciation.

Hearing shoes stomping off dirt in the mudroom, she raised her eyes to the tall, blond man who walked through the kitchen doorway moments later. Her tongue literally curled against the roof of her mouth at her first sight of the now very grown-up looking Grayson Webb.

Attractive wasn’t the right word for him, she thought, with his wire frame glasses and his outdated haircut. However, the maleness certainly radiated off him to fill the kitchen. Thinking back to the fourteen-year-old who used to talk her ear off, Leslie appreciated that Gray’s boyish energy had morphed into the man now staring at her.

Snippet from HER BEST MISTAKE

Finn Roberts tried to stand, but quickly found his legs wouldn’t hold him up. Whatever intelligence allowed him to finish two masters and one doctoral degree before the age of thirty obviously did not extend itself to helping him make good decisions when it came to his wicked brother, Eric.

“What the hell was in those drinks?” Finn demanded, grabbing the table to keep from pitching forward and falling on his face. Dizziness engulfed him and his head spun. Thirty-six hours of flying had taken its own toll. Alcohol had only worsened the resulting jet-lag.

Eric laughed, stood, and put an arm around Finn to hold him up.

“Look at you, Finn. Two girlie drinks and your ass is all but on the floor. God, I’ve missed you. I wish you’d quit digging in the dirt and come home to Boston.”

“Digging in the dirt?” Still feeling ill, Finn had to work to put the proper amount of outrage into his voice to keep up with the insult game about their chosen careers. “Well, at least it’s better than gambling for a living.”

“What can I say?” Eric admitted. “All those people with money to invest and I just love helping them with it. It keeps me in BMWs and Italian shoes. What are you doing with all those college degrees of yours, pretty boy? T-shirts and sandals don’t exactly scream success, Dr. Roberts.”

Eric laughed as he guided a grumbling Finn out of the bar.

“The dig site is in a very remote location. There’s nowhere in the middle of the desert to wear a damn suit. I told you I hadn’t had alcohol in two years, yet you have me doing shots within minutes of my plane landing. How do I let you talk me into acting so insanely? You’ve been doing this to me all our lives. Lord, I think I’m going to be sick. I just hope I hit your expensive Italian shoes when I spew.”

“Don’t you dare. I like these shoes,” Eric said as he laughed harder, halting just outside the lounge. “Okay. Stop walking a minute. Get your breath.”

Finn stopped, closed his eyes, and took a few deep, steadying breaths. When he opened his eyes again, Eric was still there holding him up, eyes full of both love and mischief.

And that’s how he always did it, Finn decided. His brother wore him down with a wicked smile and love in his eyes.

“Remember I’m bigger than you. If I fall, I’m taking you with me,” Finn warned.

“Come on, Dr. Roberts. Let’s get your inebriated ass to the room so you can sleep this off. My condo is still a renovation construction zone, so I went all out and booked you a suite here at the Copley under my name. I’m sure it won’t have the ambiance of your desert tent, but it comes with a few perks I think you will appreciate. In the morning, I’ll come by and take you to breakfast if you’re up to it. If not, we’ll make it lunch.”

“Where are you spending the night?” Finn demanded.

“You’re such a worrier, Finn. I have plans to sleep elsewhere,” Eric explained, favoring his serious sibling with a knowing grin. “Besides, there’s only one bed in the suite anyway. I’m not pulling out the sofa, even for you.”

Snippet from CRUISING SPEED

Tucking his hair behind his ears, Mikkel Gunnarsen drew in a deep breath and opened the envelope that had been shipped by courier to his office. He pulled out the sheaf of papers and saw the final judgment in his divorce on top. It stung a bit to see the divorce made a reality, but not as much as it had hurt living with a woman who confessed she had never loved him.

It had taken a year and the sacrifice of a good part of his investments, but now all his ties to Siddha were finally broken. He was a poorer man but also a free one, Mikkel decided, for whatever that was worth. At thirty-six, the end of his only long-term relationship was the kind of loss he had no idea how to recover from. Though after a year of grieving and watching Siddha wait restlessly to remarry, there wasn’t much left to miss.

His grandmother’s clock chimed on the hour from its home on his office wall and announced his next appointment was about to happen. Mikkel shoved the divorce papers back into the envelope before locking it away in his desk drawer. He would look at everything later. Maybe he would do so while he had a large glass of vodka. Right now, he had to meet an old friend and his beautiful wife. He was quite pleased to know his wild-hearted roommate from college had thought of seeking him out to help with his family’s financial needs.

Michael Larson and he were the same in many ways, and not just because their names meant the same in both their ancestral languages. They each had a restless soul, endlessly searching for peace from their striving. Mikkel figured if the wicked Michael could find someone as charming and wonderful as Carrie, then why couldn’t he find someone equally wonderful? Compared to Larson, he was an easier man and had less of a roving eye. In the last year of living like a monk, he had discovered how strong his beliefs were, especially after his ex had left his bed and gone to another man’s.

Despite his disappointment, he was determined not to dwell on his suffering. Being a positive thinker in most areas of his life, Mikkel had no intention of letting the unfaithful woman in his life ruin his romantic future. He preferred to believe that Siddha and he had simply grown apart in the decade since they had married. He truly felt no animosity. All that remained was a desire to move on as she so obviously planned to do.

Smiling at several motorcycle magazines still littering his normally pristine desktop, Mikkel grinned and scooped them up as well. Michael was the only Larson male who wasn’t a biker, and because of that was likely to give him royal hell for his intention to own a motorcycle again if he saw them. So far though, all the bikes for sale in the magazines were far too small for him, even if their used prices did fit his new and more restricted budget.

The magazines were still fun through, Mikkel decided, as he gathered them up. They inspired him to keep dreaming. And after Michael and Carrie left, he was going to spend some quality time surfing the web and seeing what he could find there. Despite the hefty certified check for the final settlement that he had handed over to his attorney earlier in the week, he had promised himself the bike anyway. His new freedom was going to start with recovering the one pre-Siddha activity he had loved. First though, he had to find a motorcycle big enough to hold his six-foot-six, two-hundred-eighty-pound bulk.

But once he had the perfect bike, then he was going to start to look for a warm and willing woman. He would look for one with a loving heart and the ability to erase the sultry, unfaithful Siddha completely from his mind.

Mikkel grinned at the lustful thought of being intimate with a woman again, one of the many that were haunting him daily now. Perhaps his divorce was making him giddy with relief. He was now free enough to look.

Of course to find a woman, he would probably have to start dating, which was a small problem. He truly hated the social necessity of going out with strangers and the rest of the awkward ritual. Dates usually ended for him with either scaring the woman with his intensity or annoying her with his personality. He knew he was loud, big, and way too bold in speaking his thoughts to be comfortable for most females. Siddha had been an exception, which was a good part of why he had married her first chance he got.

Mikkel sighed as he gave himself a short pep talk on his way to the lobby. “Maybe you will find a bike sexy enough to lure the perfect woman. Two birds, eh Mikkel?”

Thursday, December 6, 2012

THE SHAMAN'S MATE Blog Tour & Giveaway

Even if you mostly read my contemporary books, I wanted you to know that I'm doing a giveaway for a new release that you might just find interesting too. To celebrate the release of The Shaman's Mate, my new Fantasy/Paranormal book, my awesome friend over at Pimpin' Reads blog has helped me arrange an awesome book tour.

There will be a chance to enter a giveaway on each blog along the tour route, so you can sign up at each location on the date in the list while checking out their offerings. Winners will get a free ebook copy or signed print copy of the book.

Each of these sites is hosted by at least one avid book reviewer and they will give you the scoop on great books. I saw some other giveaways too, so check them all out.



Dec 3:  Pimpin' Reads
Dec 5:  United By Books
Dec 10:  Page Flipperz Ya

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Have you read Carved In Stone? Check this out.

In preparation for writing "Covered In Paint", I am offering the first book in the series for free. If you have not read this book, this is the perfect time to do so. If you have read it, this is a great time to download into the Kindle, Nook, or other ereader in preparation for the holiday season.

Enjoy.

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Book Description

Even though his sons tease him about not dating, and his ex-wife thinks he is still hung up on her, 53 yr old retired principal and stone sculptor, William Everett Larson, is glad he waited to date until he found 47 yr old high school art teacher, Jessica Daniels. He admires Jessica for her courageous art and for how she has dealt with her life. As far as Will can tell, the only part of Jessica damaged by her past is her heart. Jessica assures Will she is incapable of lasting love, but Will refuses to believe it’s true. Yes, it is a problem that the baggage from Jessica’s past makes her see dating as merely recreational and men as interchangeable, but when she offers him temporary sexual fidelity, Will decides to take what he can get until he can find a way to convince Jessica she is still capable of love.

Jessica Daniels is mostly happy with her life. Her daughter is graduating college. She is a few years away from retirement. Life is good even though lately she has stopped being interested in both her art and men. Since Jessica has never been the kind of woman looking for that one special man to settle down with, she normally dates and enjoys all the men she wants. What's the harm with doing so if it suits her? Will is certainly good-looking and charming, but she’s not sure he’s worth the trouble of an exclusive relationship. She likes riding his motorcycle, seriously admires his art, and thinks he’s mostly a great guy. But after thirty years of being single, Jessica knows that most relationships just don’t work out for a woman with a past like hers. When Will keeps insisting on sleeping with her, she finally gives in, but Jessica knows in her heart it will never last.


Excerpt Chapter 1

Will Larson watched the batter bubbles burst before he flipped the current batch of pancakes. When he heard the motorcycle roar up outside, he knew Shane had finally arrived for breakfast.

“Good morning,” Will said, smiling as his youngest son came through the door sniffing the air like a hungry dog.

“Banana walnut pancakes,” Shane said on sigh, walking into the kitchen of his brother Michael’s house. “Those are still my favorite.”

Will tossed a grin in the direction of his son and then smiled when Shane walked over and dropped an affectionate kiss on his unshaven cheek. Shane looked like his blond-haired, Nordic-looking mother, but had definitely inherited his father’s size, exceeding Will’s height by several inches and the width of his shoulders even more. Will knew it would take the same quantity of pancakes he and Michael ate together just to fill the twenty-seven-year-old up, so he poured out batter to make another six.

“So how’s the graphic novel business? Has the Winged Protector solved any more crimes or saved any more damsels in distress lately?” Will asked companionably.

“Nah. His alter ego, Eric Benton, is mostly a monogamist. He’s still enjoying the last damsel. I did get offered a deal for action figures last week,” Shane said, going to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup.

“Action figures? That’s cool. Was it a good deal?” Will asked, impressed that his son’s creative work was gaining popularity. He was doubly glad now that he hadn’t let Ellen discourage the boy’s comic book drawing too much.

Shane shrugged. “It’s a toy company working with my publisher. My agent said they’re offering enough to buy a small house, plus a percentage of sales over time. I guess that’s pretty good.”

Will stopped and stared. “Pretty good? That’s great, Shane.” He went back to flipping pancakes, smiling and proud.

“I like the idea of getting a house,” Shane said. “I’m tired of condo living.”

“When you get your house, maybe I can come live with you for a while. I think your brother is tired of me already,” Will said, wanting to laugh at the pained expression on Shane’s face. It would be hard for his youngest to bring home his one-nighters with his father in residence. Will was seriously tempted to do it for a while just to disrupt Shane’s habitual womanizing.

“Yeah, I am tired of you,” Michael confirmed, walking into the kitchen, stretching and scratching the six-pack abdominal muscles he worked hard to maintain. It had been harder since his father had been in his house and doing most of the cooking.

Will laughed at his oldest son’s comment about being tired of him because it was half teasing and half truth. The month he’d been living with Michael had been an interesting social adjustment for both of them, but Will had been relieved to have some company for a while, even if it was reluctant. The last year had been a lonely one for him.

When he looked at Michael now and smiled, Will had the same thought he always had that it was like looking in a mirror showing him a picture of his past. Michael had inherited Will’s muscular build but not his height, which he complained about still at thirty-four.

At five-ten, Michael was average in stature, but his wide shoulders, broad chest, and muscled arms only emphasized the passionate nature promised by his dark brown eyes and equally dark hair that hung nearly to his waist. Will’s Celtic heritage had branded his eldest hard.

“Why are you tired of me?” Will asked, grinning.

“You’ve been moping around my house, not dating, and barely working on your art. I’m sick and tired of being greeted by a giant marble penis every time I go out to the courtyard to work. Carve a damn leg or something, Dad. No matter how artistically impressive, a giant marble penis by itself is still creepy as hell,” Michael complained, making his father blush.

To soften his words, Michael laughed and patted his father on a shoulder, sniffing the pancakes with appreciation. He loved to tease him but would never really criticize his father’s art. His mother had done enough of that when she and his Dad were married.

Shane was laughing so hard at his brother’s comments that coffee was threatening to come out his nose.

“So how long has the marble penis been leading its solitary existence?” he asked, pulling a coffee cup out of a cabinet to pour Michael a cup.

“Practically since Dad sold the house and moved in here,” Michael said.

Shane laughed harder as he handed his brother the coffee.

“Thanks,” Michael said, savoring that first bracing sip. “I think Dad’s depressed, Shane.”

Though Michael was joking with his brother, there was a serious element in his tone as well. Despite his father’s amazing financial success as a sculptor, his mother had never thought his father’s art was as important as his other work. As the oldest child, Michael clearly remembered all the fights his parents had had about the time his father had spent carving. Selling the house, which was also the place his father was used to working, had been as bad as the divorce itself.

“Stop talking about me in the third person. I am in the room, not deaf, and not depressed,” Will denied, sighing over their concerns, which were way too close to his for comfort. “I just haven’t felt like carving. Throw a cover over it if it bothers you so much, Michael.”

“Maybe the state of the statue is trying to tell you something, Dad,” Shane suggested, his amused but serious gaze on his father’s face. “Maybe the marble penis isn’t the only penis leading a solitary existence. The divorce was over a year ago. Mom and Luke married a few months after it was final. You’re not even dating yet.”

Will turned off the griddle and set the mountain of pancakes in the middle of the table he’d already set for three.

“Listen, Mr. all-but-dissertation in Psychology, when you actually finish that million-dollar doctorate at Johns Hopkins, then you can analyze me and my man parts. Until then you’re just my smart-ass son. Sit and eat—both of you laughing hyenas,” Will ordered, only partially minding their amusement at his expense.

“Dad, you know Michael and I love you. At least let me give you my best dating advice,” Shane said, sliding into the nearest chair.

He heaped six pancakes on his plate and covered them with a lake of syrup before he paused and schooled his voice into the businesslike tone he had learned from the man he addressed.

“Shave your head, get an earring, and ride your bike around town. Your body is great for a man over fifty. You could be picking up the kind of women I do. Look, I got a tongue stud. You need to get one of these. Women love this kind of stuff.”

Shane stuck out his tongue to show his father, who only rolled his eyes. He heard his brother snickering around a mouthful of pancakes, but merely ignored his jealous sibling.

Will studied the tongue stud with a mixture of horror and shock.

He looked at Michael, who only laughed, shrugged, and went on eating. His eldest son was crazy in love with a woman he couldn’t get along with for more than two minutes at a time. Yet even though the woman wasn’t in his life the way he wanted, Michael wasn’t always out chasing away the good memories with nameless, faceless blonds like Shane favored doing.

His oldest son had only done that kind of mindless dating when the woman he loved got married. When she was divorced, Michael stopped chasing blonds and resumed chasing her, which is the stage he was going through currently. While it seemed fruitless to Will to want a woman so badly who so obviously didn’t want you back, he still never worried about Michael as much. At least Michael cared deeply about someone. Will wasn’t sure Shane even had the capacity to genuinely love a woman.

“Shane, you’re missing the big picture. Do you even remember their names, what they did to you, what you did to them? Do you ever want to go back to any of them so bad you ache?” Will asked.

“No. But I’ve not been looking for that kind of experience,” Shane said, shrugging away his father’s disapproval.

Will pointed his fork at Shane. “Yes, you are. I raised you. You know I felt that way about your mother because I made sure you did. So I know you’re at least subconsciously looking for that whether you realize it or not. There is nothing like finding that one incredible woman who changes everything. There is nothing like exploring the full range of lovemaking with an equally devoted partner.”

“What happens when that one incredible woman changes so much that she leaves you and marries a younger man? Do you just give up?” Shane asked sharply, daring his father to answer his question less than honestly.

He and Michael both knew their father had taken the divorce very hard. They knew he had sincerely and faithfully loved their mother. Neither of them had really understood what had gone so wrong between their parents that it couldn’t be fixed. The divorce had not been easy on any of them, but their father was the one who hadn’t moved on.

“Look—every relationship is a risk in some way. I had thirty-three good years with your mother. We grew apart, and she fell in love with someone else. I don’t know why these things happen. They just do,” Will said, getting up and refilling his coffee. “I am sad about the divorce but not really depressed. When the right time comes, I’ll find someone and start dating again. I have an open mind about it.”

“Good. When?” Shane asked, watching his father walk back to the table and sit down heavily with a resigned sigh. He wanted to laugh at his father’s irritation with him, but he held it in. There was too much at stake to risk his father thinking it was just a joke.

“When I’m ready and I meet someone, I will start dating again. There’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right woman to show up. I don’t need to fill the interim with tall, leggy blonds half my age,” Will said firmly.

“Fine,” Shane agreed easily, his tone dripping with fake resignation. “I’ll take care of chasing all the leggy blonds half your age, Dad. Geez, you’re hard to satisfy. No wonder Michael is tired of you.”

When his father glared at him, Shane turned to look at his brother, his gaze full of wickedness. “What kind of women does Dad pawn off on you?”

“None—and I’m totally pissed now,” Michael said, putting as much anger in his voice as he could over the urge to laugh. “Dad’s always liked you better, Shane. When you buy your house, he’s definitely moving in with you.”

“Oh, shut up and eat—both of you,” Will said, stabbing his pancakes viciously, tired of being harassed by his adult children. “I’m getting my own damn place as soon as I can.”

“When? Mom said you gave all the money from the house sale to her,” Shane said sadly, shaking his head side to side in pity. “I guess that means you’re broke. That marble penis better grow a body soon.”

At the vicious swearing following Shane’s comments, Michael shook his head at his father as well and made sympathetic noises with his tongue. “Did you ever even use the f-word when you were a principal, Dad? I don’t remember you swearing in front of me or Shane, until he ran over your Harley with his car.”

Michael used his fork to point accusingly at Shane, whose glare matched his father’s, and made him want to laugh.

“Thanks, Benedict Arnold. Did you have to remind Dad about me killing his bike?” Shane asked, pancakes all but falling out of mouth. Backing over his father’s beloved Harley was the only thing Shane had ever done in his life so bad that his father had been truly disappointed in him.

“You’re the one making Dad mad this morning, not me,” Michael said, laughing at Shane’s pained expression.

Since it was his house, Michael reasoned he could say anything he wanted to defend himself under his own roof. This included shifting his father’s irritation in his brother’s general direction and away from him. His obvious success at having done so made his smile even wider.

“I’m definitely getting my own place soon,” Will said to his pancakes, even as both his sons laughed harder. “And I’m not inviting you two over for breakfast.”

Shane pointed his fork at his brother. “If I never get banana pancakes again, you are a dead man.”

Michael grinned and gave his brother the finger to let him know how afraid he was of him and his threats.

“I am serious,” Shane warned, stabbing the air between Michael and him with his fork like it was a weapon.

Will rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. Sometimes he wished they had both taken more after their less passionate mother.

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