Thursday, November 23, 2017

Thursday's Third Scene _ Featuring Seducing the Doctor by Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #Medical #romance

Hot water chased the chill from Matt’s bones. Several spots ached but he agreed with his hostess. No serious injuries and bruises were to be expected. He wasn’t sure if the accident had brought good luck or bad. He groaned and thought of his bike. How much damage?
An image of the woman who had rescued him appeared. The accident hadn’t been all bad luck. Auburn hair, green eyes, long slender fingers. The shapeless shiny yellow raincoat had covered the rest of her. What had she kept hidden and why had she continued to wear the garment.
Mentally he removed the coat and envisioned a tall, slender naked body. Long legs were a given. She was taller than his usual preferences. He gave her a slender waist and breasts large enough to fill his hands. A few subtle moves on his part and the night could turn into a lover’s delight.
His cock throbbed. Down boy. Rushing this lady would mean a strikeout. She had seemed shy and even skittish. He couldn’t give in to his desire to leap into action. Seduction was the way to go. He grabbed his erect member and worked a bit to remove the edge. He had all night.
After drying he pulled on sweatpants and his favorite tee shirt. The blue matched his eyes and acted like a magnet drawing eyes to his chest. He shoved the towel in the hamper and hung his trousers on the towel bar.
Matt left the bathroom and collided with his hostess. He grabbed her around the waist to prevent their crashing into a wall. He’d been on target with every imaginary feature of her body. Need flared.
“Are you accident prone?” she asked.
“Not usually.” He stepped back to leisurely study her. His gaze followed long legs to a slender waist. Even her breasts were as perfect as he’d hoped.
Their gazes locked. A fire spread over her cheeks. Had she read his intentions? In an instant his thoughts leaped from a simple thank you to finding a way into her bed. He grinned. Her stare made him wonder if her intentions matched his.
She stepped back until she pressed against the wall. He braced his hands near her head. “Thank you.” His mouth brushed hers. She tasted of chocolate. He ran his tongue over her lips. She gasped. He plunged inside.
His hands slid around her and pressed her closer. Their tongues danced. He cupped her rear and held her against his erection.
She pushed against his shoulders. He gasped a breath. She turned her head away. “You’ve taken your thank you far enough.”
Laughter he dare not release choked him. He planned to take his thanks a long, long way. “You’re right. We should introduce ourselves. I’m Matt Blakefield, Editor of Good Livin’, one of the Good Magazines.”
“I know.”
He frowned. “How? Have we met? There’s no way I could forget you.”
“Try high school.” Frost coated her voice.
“I’m drawing a blank.”
“Cassandra Moore.”
Knowledge arrived like boulders rolling down a mountain slope during an avalanche. Shame washed through him. “You’ve changed.”
Great line, jerk.
Her eyes narrowed. “I have. I’m no longer a scarecrow with bottle bottom glasses and carrot hair.”
He groaned. “What I said that day was wrong.”
“In a way but the description fit. Wasn’t nice to hear though.”
Her voice chilled him. Visions of an uncomfortable time formed. Did she want an apology? He would give her one and more. “Believe me or not, after you ran off I tried to find you. I stopped at your house. Your mom said you weren’t home. At school on Monday I looked for you. You weren’t there. You never returned. What happened?”
She stared at the floor. “Asking you out that day was my last chance to make my dream work. We moved that weekend. My step-father was reassigned.”
“What spurred you to ask?”
“The cheerleaders said you were shy and liked me. I took a chance. Dumb move.” She shrugged.
Shy. Him? That was a joke. A flurry of emotions cascaded. “Can I make it up to you, Cassandra?”
“Cassie. Only my mother calls me Cassandra.” She slipped down the hall to the main room and sat on the couch. “What happened years ago can’t be changed.”
“I could try.” The desire storming his body should have subsided following her chilling glare and the fountain of guilt. His younger sisters had told him of how the words and actions of teenage boys hurt girls. How badly had his ill-chosen words hurt Cassie? He sat beside her and rested an arm on the back of the couch. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“Absolutely sure.” She reached for the remote and turned the movie off.
How could she be so sure? Hadn’t she experienced the urgency of his kiss? His body hummed with energy and need. He glanced at the champagne flute on the table. “Expecting company?” If some man arrived they would surely lock horns. For tonight this woman was his.
“No one.”
“Why are you here alone?”
She looked away. “Needed time and a quiet place to think. What are you doing miles from nowhere?”
“Escaping a wedding.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yours?”
“Not in a million years.” What had happened to cause the bite in her voice? “My brother’s. Do you remember Mark?”
“I do.” She folded her hands in her lap. “How are your sisters?”
“Getting married in December. Double wedding. Dad recently married.” He shuddered. “Had to escape the celebration and all the schemes to make me the next victim.”
He inched his hand toward her shoulders. “All the recently paired spend hours trying to match me with their single friends. I hate weddings.”
“So do I.”
He edged closer. A woman who shared his views. The possibilities of this chance meeting excited him. “I thought all women loved the fuss and bother.” Then he noticed her name engraved on the champagne flute. “I see. What happened?”

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Wednesday Hooking The Temple of Fyre #MFRWBookHooks #MFRWAuthor #Fantasy romance

Temple of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 1)

The excerpt is PG but the book is spicy.

Today I'm joining other authors here #BookHooks My selection is The Temple of fyre a fantasy romance. I'l sure other authors will have great books to show off. find them here,

Sold by her family to the priestesses of the Temple of Fyre, Ria soon masters using each of the four fyrestones, white, yellow, orange and scarlet. Her curiosity leads her to the archives and there, she learns things that disturb her. There are no men serving as priests but in the past there were. Men are kept in the harras where the priestesses visit. On the day of her testing she is ordered to perform a task she dislikes and refuses to destroy a town. Many of the priestesses fall into unconsciousness. Melera, the chief priestess, beats and banishes Ria for the carrion crows to consume.

Ari was abandoned as a child and found by two elderly firestone miners. He has pursued this and is the best of the finders. He goes to the temple to sell the stones he has gleaned. On leaving, Ria attempts to steal the fyrestone he has worn since the day he was found. He thinks she is a boy and a thief and he takes her to his room at the inn. On discovering her identity, he refuses to turn her over to the priestesses and they leave town. They are searching for the fabled blue fyrestones. They also learn to use them they must be bonded physically, emotionally and spiritually. Can they learn to master the blue stones and defeat Malera so they can rule the temple with love and understanding?


Ria stuffed the scroll she’d taken from the shelves beneath her caftan and tightened the sash to make sure the cylinder holding the rolled papyrus remained hidden. Beads of perspiration covered her forehead. She rubbed the sleeve of her robe over her face. The night air held sultry remnants of the heat of the day. Usually, the thick walls of the temple complex kept the rooms and corridors cool. Tonight was different. The usual night breezes were absent so the heat remained. Perhaps the approaching solstice was the cause?
Or, maybe her fear of discovery caused her heart to thump against her chest and her muscles to tighten into confining bands? She was in a place where she had no right to be without the presence of one of the priestesses. Acolytes were forbidden full access to the scrolls found in the scriptorium. She drew a deep breath. She’d acted out of necessity. The scroll beneath her caftan was one she’d discovered during another of her night searches. She wasn’t permitted to read this one, but she had and the words had stirred questions her tutors had refused to address.
On the morrow, her ability to control the flames of the fyrestones would be tested. She would be ordered to call flames from a pair of scarlet crystals and blend her blaze with those raised by the priestesses of the circle. Then, the chief priestess would assign her a task. Ria believed the things she’d read in this particular scroll would help her during the ordeal. The test was not without risk. One slip and the flames she sought to control could turn her into a living torch.
She crept to the scriptorium door and peered into the hall. With senses alert, she listened and searched the shadows cast by the flickering torches on the white plaster of the walls. Sensing no one was nearby, she scurried along the corridor toward the living quarters of the priestesses and acolytes. With luck, she would reach her room without being discovered.
Her hand pressed against the scroll she wanted to read again. The words of this particular one were vastly different from the lessons she’d been taught by the priestesses. Had they lied? Were the ways to use the fyrestones described in these writings true, or were they only a fable invented by some ancient scribe?
There were other scrolls that told tales that seemed unreal. The aged priestess in charge of the scriptorium had laughed when Ria had asked about dragons with eyes the color of the scarlet fyrestones. The old woman had scoffed when Ria had showed her passages describing wands wielded by wizards that sent lashes of bright or dark flames to control people.
There was no one she could ask if this scroll contained truths. Questions weren’t encouraged. Still, she wanted to believe what she’d read in this scroll about the uses of the stones, for they told of helping the people and that appealed to her.
Ria sighed. Since the day she’d been bought from the slavers by the chief priestess, her life, though interesting had been lonely. Not for her the crowded classrooms, or the dormitory where she could form friendships with the other acolytes. She had her own chamber and a private bathing room. During her lessons, she’d been the only student. Even her meals had been taken with the priestesses, not the other acolytes.
Why had she been kept isolated from the other acolytes? What make her so different? Like Ria, most of the others had been brought to Rosti by the slavers. At twenty, she was a year or two younger than most of the young women who had entered the temple with her.
She’d learned to call fire from every color of the crystals and learned how to blend the flames to form sheets of fire. She could impose maps and pictures on the sheets and knew the ways of sending spears of flame to various places. From the tiny flames of the white, to yellow, orange, and scarlet fyrestones, her progress had been steady.
A peal of laughter made her stiffen. She ducked into a shadowed alcove. After the evening meal, acolytes were to be in their rooms, not wandering in the halls. A pair of senior priestesses, their orange robes gleaming in the light from the hall torches, appeared. The women hurried past Ria’s hiding place and entered the harras.
Ria trailed behind them. The noises from the studs’ quarters stirred her curiosity. The men seldom left the harras, except for exercise in the garden, or when they were summoned to the room of one of the priestesses. Until Ria passed her final test, she wasn’t allowed into the rooms where the men were kept. Several times, she had spied on the studs, but only during the day and never in the evening when the priestesses visited. She paused beside the beaded curtain and peered inside.
Her eyes widened. Most of the men were nude or scantily clad. Priestesses reclined on low couches. Studs offered beverages and finger foods. Ria watched as one of the men fondled a priestess’ breasts. Another man swayed to the sound of a flute. He held his organ in his hand. Ria felt a stirring low in her belly. Her breath caught in her throat.
Malera’s husky laughter rolled toward Ria. Before the chief priestess could discover her, Ria ducked into the hall leading to her chamber. When she reached the doorway, she carefully parted the beaded curtain and slipped into the room. If she’d been caught, Malera would have been furious. The chief priestess’ temper outbursts often ended in an injury for the culprit.
Ria sank on the bed. The scene in the harras filled her thoughts and stirred her curiosity. What would have happened next? Though she’d been betrothed before her clan had sold her to the slavers, he had died and the women hadn’t yet instructed her on the ways of a woman and a man.
A frown wrinkled her brow. The lessons of her teachers arose. Acolytes were forbidden to interact with men, except for official business. A priestess was permitted encounters, but she must never allow a man’s organ to enter her body. Such a surrender would destroy her ability to control the flames she drew from the fyrestones.
Memories of her first training session with the chief priestess had been a series of commands. Once again, Ria had heard Malera’s throaty voice raised in warning.
A priestess is not permitted to bear a child. To give birth means the loss of power. She must find a daughter among the acolytes. For that reason, I called you from the plains before your clan brought you to the marriage bed. If I hadn’t, your talent would have been lost. When my days as chief priestess end, you will take my place. Though you are not of my body, you are the child of my spirit.

At first, those words had brought Ria pleasure and a sense of smugness. If all the acolytes in the temple, she was special. Lately, she’d begin to question her mentor’s motives. Ria remembered no call. All she knew was her betrothed had died suddenly, and the next day, her clan had sold her. Had Malera sent the slavers?

My places:

Buy Mark 

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Tuesday's Writer's Tip - The five story elements in use #MFRWAuthor #Writing #story elements

Before you write the book you need to organise your five story elements into a statement and question. Many thanks to Dwight V. Swain for this little trick. I'm still learning how to mke this work completely but it really shows you where the story is going. Since the book I'm working on now is a romance, I do two of these since that helps me put the characters into focus.

I'll do Caleb's since I believe he has the most to gain.

Character Caleb Winstone MD.
Situation - He's returned home to begin his practice as a pediatrician.
Objective To avoid his family's decision that he should marry Regina Bishop.
Opponent Suzanna Rollins the woman he hurt and angered.
Disaster She has also arrived in town to begin as the nurse manager of the Pediatric Unit

So now what
When Caleb Winstone MD returns to his hometown to begin his practice as a pediatrician he finds his wealthy parents have chosen his bride, Regina Bishop, a woman he doesn't like and also the woman he wanted Suzanna Rollins, is the new nurse manager of the Pediatric Unit.

How can he fight his parents mechanizations, Regina's willingness and convince Suzanna he was a fool and she is the woman he wants in his life?

Monday, November 20, 2017

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWAuthor #Poetry #Writing #Christmas stockings

Meander 1 - Poem Man's Gift

Love is never a selfishness.
It doesn't hide inside.
It's not a hidden vastness thing.
It's infinitely spaceousness.

Love never keeps itself apart.
It recognizes needs
And finds a way to give itself
To another's yearning pleas.

Love understands a wordless cry.
It reaches out a hand.
To hold another's hand in love
Is the greatest gift of man.

Meander 2 - Christmas stockings. I've been shopping lately and finding interesting and cute or practical things to put in the stockings of my family. This is something I really enjoy doing but I wonder who will do this when I no longer can. There are stockings for my family in Florida and some are hard to figure what to give. They've been away so long that I don't totally know their likes and dislikes. But I struggle on. There are the two family members in Georgia but they'll be here this year. That's good but what I include in their stockings depends on if they are going to drive or fly. There are the five in the town near us. I do see them frequently though not so much these days since going out to dinner night has changed due to work schedule. But I can find lotsof interesting things for them. Finally there are the ones for the people in this house. They are relatively easy to find little things for. And I have and amazed myself by choosing a scarf for one that totally matches her new coat I hadn't seen before I made the purchase. So I'll soon be done ant they comes the fun of packing them, plus the ones for the members of the critique group who I will party with in a month.

Meander 3 - Writing - The new story is going well, surprisingly well. I have nearly 10,000 words on the page and this is just the rough draft. There are a few things to add and some to change but that will happen once I have the whole story down in black and white. I love starting a new story and following the plot and the characters who exist in my head. The characters change the plot and the plot changes the characters. An amazing thing.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Sunday's Book - Seducing the Doctor #MFRWAuthor #Contemporary romance #medical romance

Seducing the Doctor (At First Sight Book 4)

“You’re next.” 

Those words send Matt Blakefield fleeing his brother’s wedding. Marriage or even falling in love is the last of his desires. What he wants to learn is the identity of the owner of the house he wants to use as a make-over for the magazine he edits, Good Livin’. A fall rainstorm and a pine tree sends his motorcycle into a spin and into the arms of an old acquaintance, a girl he hurt in high school.

Cassie Moore has borrowed a cabin from one of her partners in a cardiology practice to come to terms with a broken engagement. The news came via an email. Her fiancĂ©e had married another woman just weeks before their scheduled marriage. The appearance of Matt at her door brings an old attraction into full bloom. She realizes love is lurking but he’s a player and she needs to forget the connection.

Is it possible that a weekend of love can become a lifetime? 

on June 2, 2016
Format: Kindle Edition

A K/U book.

This is a cute story. I loved Cassie and Matt's characters and I loved how his family
couldn't keep their noses out of their business.

Matt has sat around long enough and watched everyone pair off and get married. No matter
who is getting married, Matt always finds himself getting set up with someones co-worker or
friend. The last thing that Matt wants is to settle down and get married, but his family has other
plans. Going away for the weekend to one of his families cabins seems to be just what he needs
right now.

Cassie is a doctor and up until a couple of weeks ago, she was engaged to Tim. Much to her
surprise, Tim marries the office nurse, all of a sudden, out of the blue and on a Thursday no less.
Needing to escape, Cassie borrows one of her Senior Partners Cabins for a much needed get away.

This book is filled with surprises, some more pleasant than others.

My Places:

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Saturday's Blurbs featuring Books by Tricia Mc Gill #MFRWAuthor #Blurbs #romance

Laurel’s Gift (Paranormal/Contemporary):

The plaintive singing of a ghostly child in the night sets off a chain of events that lead to Laurel learning the dark secrets that dwell in her Great Aunt Maggie’s house in a Melbourne suburb. When Eli comes into Laurel’s life, instead of instantly uncovering the secrets that have been buried in this house for many years, their joint efforts lead them to discover even greater mysteries.
Eli’s past is tied up with the ghost of the child who haunts the house, and there are many hurdles to cross before he discovers just why he also sensed strange vibes in the old house as soon as he entered.
In their search for the answers to an extraordinary mystery they uncover a passionate love affair shared by the people dear to them or those who dwelt in the house at one time of another. Despite their shared psychic abilities can the couple also find such a love?

Amethyst (Contemporary Romance):
Love comes in many guises. Although Amy cares for Tony, and in the small country town where they live they are considered a couple, Amy still carries a torch for Tony’s older brother who spurned her adolescent avowals of love.

When Andrew returns home, now a wealthy, prosperous man, Amy’s whole world is in turmoil. Because of his rejection in the past, how can Amy trust this man who proposes to settle down in the small town he walked away from years ago? Amy has no doubt that he will soon long to be back in the bustling world he has become accustomed to in the city, and is determined to keep her head and not let her heart divulge its secrets this time around.

A Call Through Time (Time-Travel):
The Lord of Castlegrove Manor, heir to a vast fortune, is a studious History buff who loves reading about the years following the Roman occupation of Britain. Dissatisfied with running his extensive estate, a distraction from Bart’s boredom is his erotic dreams. No woman but his dream lover will ever offer him the satisfaction he craves.
During one of these dreams Bart wakes up miles from his comfortable existence and in the year 450AD. When he comes face to face with Haesal, he knows instantly this is the woman who has shared so many of his heated fantasies.

Most Celts have fled west to escape invaders from over the seas. Haesal and her brother have been captured by an evil barbarian and Bart comes to realise that his mission is to rescue them and return them safely to their home in Cornwall. Haesal’s belief in shapeshifters and the fairy folk helps her better understand the sudden appearance of this handsome stranger in her life who claims to have a deep knowledge of her. But can the love they find with each other survive through time and treachery?

Friday, November 17, 2017

Friday's Guest - Tricia Mc Gill - Panster or Pl;otter #MFRWauthor #writing #panster or plotter

1.      Are you a panster or a plotter or perhaps a bit of both?

I’m a panster for sure. I gave up plotting too deeply years ago when it hit me that my characters wanted to take over the story and I realised there was little point in trying to persuade them to do otherwise. It works out better that way for me. My dreams often help me out of a tricky situation too when I come to a semi halt in a story. This was the case in my latest book Laurel’s Gift. I awoke about 3 am from the most vivid dream which told me exactly what path to take next. My dreams have helped me over many a hurdle as well as getting me started on a new story.

2.      Which comes first - characters or plot for you?

Definitely the characters. Unless I have them and their personalities all worked out before I start I have nowhere to go as noted above.

3.      What are you working on now? Is this a book in a current series or something totally new?

This next book is one that started life as a novella but is crying out to be extended into a full length novel. It is a reincarnation story about lovers through time. Because I have always believed in reincarnation this belief has carried though into a couple of my time-travels. Only the other night I dreamed of myself living a parallel life that was so clear and precise in its details that I am convinced I have lived before and will come back again someday—perhaps next time when earth people are settled on another planet.

4.      Do you have some kind of object or place that figures in most of your books? I use gems a lot, hospitals and caves.

Not so much an object but dogs, cats and horses have featured in most of my books and they usually have some quirk that sets them apart. In Amethyst she has a cat that goes everywhere more or less with her and likes to sit in the basket in front of her bicycle. In my latest release, Laurel’s Gift, there are a pair of cats that are not so much weird but perhaps think they are humans, plus a dear King Charles spaniel. Lani owns a horse in A Dream for Lani, which sets the course of the story as she is looking for a property to buy with room for her horse and so meets the hero of the piece, a real estate agent. Oh, and she also owns a small poodle.

5.      Do you write every day or just when the spirit hits?

I try to write every day when I am working on a book even if it’s only a few passages.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Thursday's Third Scene - Seducing the Innkeeper #MFRWauthor #Contemporary romance #hidden child

* * *

 “Do you?” He reached for her hand. “There’s a second reason for my visit.”
“And that is?”
“A feature of the inn in Good Travelin’. Would be good for business. My head writer’s suggestion. An Inn For All Seasons.”
The dangled carrot tempted her. A feature might bring interest from potential buyers. If the inn sold she and Davy could vanish. Or could they? Mark knew he had a son. Christa slumped against the counter. What she needed was a pair of iron rods to act as a spinal brace. She had wanted the strength to deal with her hang-sisters. Mark Blakefield’s arrival had added to the problems she faces. She wanted to collapse or hide until all the irritants vanished. That wasn’t going to happen.
Her decision to tell Peggy and Stella their free-loading days were over had promised a storm. Mark’s presence meant a hurricane. She willed her knees to lock. Fainting was not the answer. Mark had arrived and he knew about Davy. Thank heavens her son was in school. She had to find a way to send Mark away before the school bus arrived at three- thirty.
She gulped a deep breath. She should have found a way to tell Mark about the pregnancy. Ten years ago her life had been chaotic and loaded with guilty feelings. The death of her father and step-mother had catapulted her into a life she hadn’t wanted. The inn was hers. There were tons of debts. Her half-sisters were spoiled, frightened and angry. Three months had passed before she’d had time to think of her own needs.
The day she’d realized she was pregnant she had tried to let Mark know. He had graduated and gone to work for one of the magazines his family owned. A secretary reported he was in Europe and she wasn’t sure when he would return. She hadn’t left a message. Several more times she’d called only to learn he wasn’t available.
There had been nothing for her to do but make order out of her hectic life. Keeping her half-sisters out of trouble had been a fulltime job. So had running the inn and caring for Davy. Telling Mark had been pushed aside and while not forgotten, hadn’t been a priority. Now he was here and he was angry.
“Interesting situation,” Peggy drawled. “The man seems determined. You need to think about what he can do for you and Davy. The car he drives screams money. Not to mention he’s hot.”
Stella laughed.  “He’s beyond hot. Incandescent, Shoulders like a football hero. Dynamite smile. Killer green eyes. If you don’t want him I’ll have a taste.”
“Stand in line.” Peggy grinned. “How about a double or a triple?” She winked. If I were you I’d hit him for child support. With a wad of cash you can give Stel and me the money for a cruise.” She sighed. “We’re ready for balmy nights and single men.”
Christa pressed her hands against the counter. The desire to slap them grew stronger. “Listen to me. I am selling the inn. You need to find jobs. I’ll give you enough money to rent an apartment and for basic living expenses for three months. You can put your college educations to work.”
Stella shook her head. “No deal. You have to buy us out. If you sell each of us gets a third. Dad had three kids.”
“You’re entitled to nothing.” Christa stared at the door. Though he presented a different problem what was taking Mark so long?
“We’ll take you to court,” Peggy said.
“You don’t get the picture. The inn was left to me by my mother. Until I turned twenty-one Dad was my guardian. I was twenty-one when he died. The inn is mine.”
“I don’t believe you,” Stella said. “I know what Mom told us.”
Christa drew a deep breath. No matter what their mother had said Stella and Peggy had no share in the inn. Christa had paid for their college educations, fed and clothed them. Over the years she had given into their demands to avoid tantrums and her guilt over the days following the accident when no one had known where she could be found.
She wanted to scream. She had avoided this confrontation for too long. The pair had pushed her far beyond her tolerance level.
The door opened. Mark wheeled stacked suitcases to the desk. Christa groaned. He had come to stay. He placed a laptop on the counter. Her heart raced. Anticipation pulsed through her body. Why did he bother her this way? Her thoughts flooded with memories of his kisses and caresses.
“Room key,” he said.
She smiled. “I’m afraid the inn is booked solid through next week. I can give you a list of other places that might have vacancies.” She had to explain the past but not yet. “You could leave and return when there’s room in the inn.”
“Not a chance. We need to talk. I’m not leaving until we do.”
Christa stared at the floor. Why had he come? Was he here to take Davy away?
“He could use one of the cottages,” Stella said.
Christa glared at her half-sister. “They’re closed until ski season.”
“Do they have water, electricity and heat?” Mark rested his elbows on the counter.
The look of determination in his eyes reminded her of their first encounter and the way he’d pursued until she’d agreed to a date. Three weeks later she’d been in love and had agreed to spend a long weekend with him. Those four days had been a whirlwind fantasy of love and laughter. When the web of tragedy had created a shroud of responsibility those days had ended. She stared at her hands. To meet his gaze meant realizing how little her feelings had changed.
“Christa, the cottage,” he said.
“They’re meant for groups.”
“I’ll take one.” He slid his credit card toward her.
He would persist until she agreed. “Do you want to pay for a place accommodating eight to ten just for yourself?” His shrug told her he hadn’t changed. He would pursue relentlessly what he wanted.
“Why not? I can afford to pay. There’s never been anyone to help spend my money.” He brushed a finger over the back of her hand.
Christa felt tendrils of heat spiral along her arms and take root low in her belly. She held her breath but the scent of him seeped to take room through her pores. Would he change his mind when he saw the weekly rate? She ran the card and filled in the amount. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” His feral grin sent shivers along her spine. “Haven’t heard those words before. Didn’t you say that to me the day I asked you to spend the weekend with me?” He signed the slip.
She felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. Or a woman used by a man whose desire for conquest rode his scent and colored his voice.
He put the pen down. “Send the audience away. Time for us to have a chat.”
Every word jabbed like a needle. How could she fight a man who signed for a thousand dollars a night without checking the amount? “I can tear this slip up and you can go home. There’s nothing to discuss. I chose my life.”
“But you also chose mine. Just because you didn’t intend to marry me didn’t mean I would cede all my rights to my son.”
She looked away. What did he mean? Years ago she would gladly have married him. “I see.” She spoke with more calmness than she felt.
Would he fight for custody?
Christa drew a deep breath and donned her innkeeper persona. “Welcome to Green Mountain Inn. The restaurant is open at six for breakfast. Dinner service begins at five. The dining room closes at ten but the bar remains open and has a limited menu. There is a gift shop carrying the usual plus some local items.” She handed him a key. “Stella and Peggy will show you the cottage.”
“Why don’t you do the honors, Christa?” His deep voice caressed her name.
“I have work to do.” She waved the pair over. “Show Mr. Blakefield to cottage five.” His accommodation was as far from the house she shared with her family as possible.
He pocketed the key, lifted his laptop and grasped the handle of his luggage carrier. “Lead on, ladies. Christa, I’m looking forward to our talk.”

As the door closed Christa sagged like her lungs had lost their air in a rush. What was she going to do? He had a right to be angry but the cold fury in his eyes frightened her more than if he had exploded. Why hadn’t she found time during the past ten years to tell Mark about Davy? She’d never been able to answer the question. How could she resist the temptation to fall in love again?

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Wednesday Hooking Murder and Sweet Tea #MFRWBookHooks #MFRWauthor #Cozy mystery

Murder and Sweet Tea (Mrs Miller Mysteries Book 6)

Join Katherine Miller as she meets her new neighbor, a young writer who has hit it big. Why are some people wishing for their share?

After you've visited here, find some of the other great writers who are touring along and perheap find some new authors to read

Lars is her new husband. He loves Katherine but doesn’t understand why she’s always trying to protect her near and dear. Even though she saved his life while visiting him in Santa Fe, he often questions her involvement in other people’ lives.

Into their lives arrives a new neighbor, Sabrina Gates. Sabrina bought the house next door. She has had a phenomenal success as a new author but moes from her past and present threaten her peace and ability to write. There is the blogger who posts snide and not so nice posts about other authors. Sabrina’s former agent wants a share of the huge amount of money Sabrina has received for a trilogy. And there is her ex-husband, a needy greedy coward who wants money.

Above all there is Robespierre who makes his presence known.


When we reached the Dutch Colonial, I rang the doorbell.
My new neighbor opened the door. She was beautiful and blonde. I had expected blue eyes but hers were a brilliant green. “Hello, I’m Katherine Claybourne from next-door and this is my granddaughter, Megan. We would like to welcome you to the neighborhood. I handed her the basket.
“How lovely of y’all. Reminds me of home. I so wondered about my neighbors.” She paused. “Oh, I’m Sabrina Gates.”
Her smile warmed me. I felt an instant connection. I turned to leave. “Once you’re settled we’ll visit again.”
She shifted the basket. “Why wait? I’m dying for a break. Why don’t y’all come in?”
“If it’s no bother.”
We stepped into a central foyer with stairs leading to the second floor. On one side double doors opened into the living room. On the other side a hall led past a small room, a powder room and into the kitchen.
Sabrina placed the basket on the table. Like a child opening a birthday present, she pulled out the jars and read the labels.
Megan climbed onto a chair. “Grandma Kate make some really good cookies.”
Sabrina’s laughter filled the room. “Would you like one of the really good cookies?”
Megan looked at me and I nodded. “One.”
She turned to Sabrina. “She say one. I’m four and gonna be five when I get my birthday. How old are you?”
“Not a polite question,” I said.
“Oh, do you have any children?”
“I don’t but I do like children.”
“My daddy like them, too. He makes pictures. Him needs a girlfriend.”
I hid a grin. Was the child match-making?
Sabrina finished her exploration of the tea jars. She selected one. “I’ll brew a pot of this one.” She had chosen pekoe and peppermint. She took a pinch and sniffed. “Smells great. I just finished making sugar syrup for sweet tea.”
“Sweet tea?” I looked around the room. The walls had been painted off white, the same color as the ones in the foyer and the hall. Were all the rooms the same color?
“Sweet tea’s a Southern thing. You’ll see.” She put water to heat and filled a tea ball with leaves from her selection. While the water heated, she examined the banana bread. “This will make great breakfasts with cream cheese. She pulled a large jar of clear liquid from the refrigerator and hung the tea ball on the side of a pitcher. When the water boiled, she poured it into the brewing pitcher, waited for the water to color and then added the syrup and ice.
“I read your first book. Well-written and held my attention to the end. I’m waiting for a copy of your second to be available at the library.”
“Wait a minute. She dashed from the room and soon returned with two books. “Now you won’t have to wait. What is your name?”

“Katherine or just Kate.” She signed both books and handed them to me.” Thank you.”

My Places:

BUY Mark:

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Tuesday's Writer's Tip - Story Elements Line up #MFRWauthor #Amwriting #writer

According to Dwight V. Swain when you're ready to begin your story, the first thing to do is line up the story elements. This is a way to keep yourself on track. Just whatare they.

Character - You need a focal character to drive the story forward. Often times especially in romance there are two focal characters.

The Situation - Just what is happening when the story opens and how does this impinge on the focal character.

The Objective - Just what does the focal character want. Without an objective, there is no reason for the story.

The Opponent - This is the obstacle and can be a person, an event. This will force the focus character to fight back.

The Disaster - What is the dreadful the focus character must face as the story comes to an end.

Next time  the way of looking at these five elements and lining them up to make the story will be shown.