Ever wonder if Romance Authors know what they are writing about?

Okay, you want to be an author and you've heard a dozen times that you need to write what you know. There are a lot of authors out there doing just that and you want to know why they are writing romance? Let's find out if they know what they are writing about. I woun't share the whole discussion, but here is how one about bits of marrage advise tht these romance writers shared.
These authors are from all over the world, from different parts of the country with differentreligios and non-religious backgrounds. What do these women have in common? Pull up a chair and listen (most of them are authors of your favorite romance novels!)


1. I was taught to never go to bed angry. The argument only festers.
2. Marriage is like a good job. If you want to keep it, you have to work at it.
3. Compromise is essential.
4. Never spend more than what you have. :-)
Jaclyn

Never take your mate for granted.

Barri Bryan
http://barribryan.com/

You've heard it said marriage should be a 50/50 deal. When in reality it's a 100/100/100 You, your spouse and God. That's how two become one a union cannot be made, IMHO, without love, prayer, patience, communication, consideration, compromise and forgiveness and laughter, (but not at the expense of each other)

Shadowed Dreams -- http://tinyurl.com/94vzlao
Tina Pinson

When you are frustrated or angry with your spouse or feeling like you don’t want to be married, think back to all of the things that made you fall in love with him/her. Love is a choice, sometimes we must choose to love when things are bad, but by remember why you fell in love in the first place, it often rekindles that spark. Also, ask God to renew you passion for your spouse each day

www.marcydyer.com/blog

The one piece of advice I'd give that I believe has helped me and Hubby reach year 19 is... remember you're friends and laugh together, a lot.

Oh, and hold hands whenever possible.
A.R. Norris
AmberNorris2000@yahoo.com

Avoiding an issue doesn't make it go away. If anything, avoiding an issue compounds it. You have to be open to each other, no matter what the other person has to say, even and especially if it's bad or worrisome.

This is for men especially... sometimes when we tell you something is bothering us, it's not because we want you to fix it. We just want you to listen, and in the talking, the solution can come on its own.
And remember, you chose this person to be with for life. There was a reason for that. :-)
My husband and I have been together 21 years this past August, married 20 1/2. :-)
http://www.GailDelaney.com

After 21 years of marriage (21 years on 14 NOV this year) I have this advice:

Don't sacrifice your precious time to clean up after him - you need sleep, too. Now I'm getting close to 6 hours sleep a day. :)
Be firm - tell him you're going to sleep so he'll: take the kids to school, pick up the kids from school and and take the kids to their after school activties.
Let the dishes pile up in the sink and get your sleep. He'll eventually get the hint when you run out of dishes and load them in the dishwasher.
Don't run yourself down to the point where you are missing sleep and get a migrine. It will only freak you - and him out. :)
No, seriously...
Communication is big. Even if you're on opposite schedules and opposite days off find ways to talk - even if it's just to send a text message saying "Hi - how are you doing."
Make "couple" time without the kids. It can be a challenge with our modern schedules, but it's so important to keeping a marriage happy.
Get your sleep so you're not a shrew. Let him get his sleep so he's not a grump.
http://www.stephanieburkhart.com

When we hit a rocky spot, and you will too eventually, we sat across a small table, held hands and looked each other in the eye as we talked. It took more "talks" than we ever thought, but staring at each other was great. Sometimes we would wind up in bed. Other times we would laugh. Mostly it was serious communication, but we got through it. (He has really nice eyes. I had forgotten.
Jan Lane


Remember that out of all the gin joints, or places he or she hangs out, he chose you and believe it or not, you agreed to it. Treat him like it, your knight in shining armor, and tell him because we all need a bit of reaffirmation at times.
Shaunna Gonzales

Marriage advice?

After 45 years, I would agree with what has been written. Marriage is definitely a 100% give and take all the way around.
Tom and I share in the house keeping, the cooking, the dishes, the laundry, the groceries, you name it. It wasn’t always that way. But that’s what happens when you become best friends.
To me a husband and wife MUST become best friends, though it doesn’t happen overnight. We earn the trust of one another as the years progress.
Shirley

When my husband and I had our first argument, he insisted we not go to bed angry. My mother had always shut my father out of the bedroom. We said, "Daddy's in the dog house", and sometimes it lasted for weeks, but my husband was having none of that, and it worked for us. We always found a way to talk through any disagreement before kissing good night.

P.S. That goodnight kiss is important to. This has kept us together for over sixty years.
www.ToniNoelAuthor.com

Having worked with abused children and spouses and seen pretty much everything in over two decades of social work, I can say one thing for sure... Never marry a man who hates his mother. He will abuse you and possibly also the children. Men that hate their mothers turn on the women in their lives. It's pretty much a universal concept that without intervention does not change.

Michelle Sutton
For more about who asked the question and what she posted on her blog, visit http://pattyfroese.com/on Nov. 19th.

Debra Parmley

Debra, thanks for taking time to visit today. Despite being blunt, what novel are we talking about today?

Aboard the Wishing Star, my first contemporary romance which comes out Oct. 11th

So I'm sure you're counting down. Every release is exciting. Remind me why should we read Aboard the Wishing Star.

Aboard the Wishing Star is set on a cruise ship sailing the Caribbean with an ex-marine hero, a young widow who has a fear of water but learns to snorkel anyway, her creepy boss and an element of danger. If this intrigues you, this might be a good story for you.

Intrigues me? Of course, this is my kind of romance. What makes this novel different from others?

Without giving away plot twists/surprises I haven't read any romances which had a heroine with a water phobia and though there are stories set on cruise ships what happens when the heroine disembarks on one of the islands and finds her boss waiting is probably unique.

Ah hah! I see the typical "What would happen if?" that authors make a living asking, at work here. How long did it take you to write it?

This was actually the second novel I wrote, though it has been almost completely rewritten three times. (Me chuckling 'cause I just did this with one of my own.) From third person to first person then back again into third. It was a real learning experience, one I would not repeat. Trying to please a former agent and editor tied this book up for a few years. How long to write it? Six years, though I would set it aside and work on others while waiting to hear back about this one. Two of my books were published during that time frame and several others started.

A real lesson in not sitting on ones laurels. Did you do any specific research? What did you learn that surprised you?

This one required no research because it comes very much from what I know. I was a travel consultant and prior to that I traveled a lot. The Caribbean cruise route they are on is one I have traveled on more than one occasion and I've sailed on many different cruise lines and ships.

Wow, that makes for a promising read with all the pictures you can paint with your words. I'm getting excited about the cruise from here. What is it that you would like readers to take with them from this story?

To face fears and phobias so they don't get in the way of a joy filled life.

So true, so true. You say you've been on lots of cruises. Tell us one thing from your personal life that made its way into this story.

The heroine has a phobia of water and so do I. Like her, I learned to snorkel anyway.

I'll bet you added in a good measure of your fear with this. What are you most passionate about, other than writing?

Dance. I love to dance and to watch all forms of dance.

Blondes think alike. Gentlemen, are you listening. We love to dance. Do you have a pet?

Now that our youngest son and his dog have moved out our house is empty of pets. I'm trying to decide which breed of dog I would like next and have been pet sitting and visiting friends dogs while I contemplate this. (My hand shoots in the air.) A Shih Tzu, you have to get a Shih Tzu. They don't shed even if you have to keep their hair cut or comb it out regularly.

Are you a baker, a chief, a microwave mom, a quick and easy or a take-out/delivery queen? Your favorite?

Ever since I was in high school I have baked and I have a big sweet tooth. I've never been a microwave mom or a takeout/delivery queen. As the only female in our family of four, that would have been beyond our budget. Now that they're grown and on their own I much prefer healthy salads, veggies and fruit from the farmers market.

Thus the trim figure to go with the dancing. Where do you get your inspiration to write?

Everywhere. Every life experience I have really.

How did you choose the title?

The Wishing Star is the name of the ship they are sailing on, so this one really fell into place.

Is there any symbolism with the cover art for this book? Tell us about it.

There are three falling stars to wish on, on the cover. I'll leave it to my readers to find them. ;-) (Owwe…pause here to enlarge photo and search for stars.)

Of all you heros/heroines, who is your favorite and why?

Right now, Bethany, the hero of the book I am working on now. She's the youngest heroine I've written so far and she's learning to be more independent and more assertive. "Trapping the Butterfly" is set in the 1920's and will be an April 2013 release.

Love the title. So, any funny "researching your book stories" that you would like to share?

Nothing funny so far. Hot, loud, heavy and with plenty of smoke though. That was the experience of shooting black powder guns for research for my second book, "Dangerous Ties", which is set in the wild west.

Are you a panster or a planner?

A pantser by nature, though I have to plot some to submit a proposal.

Are any of your characters based on real people? If they are, do you tell them?

Threads from here and there are woven. If I borrow one aspect of a real person, I make sure everything else is different. Though I am pulling a real gangster into my roaring twenties novel, I'll keep him as a minor character and make sure he doesn't grab center stage. My secondary characters sometimes come out strong and have to be toned down.

Strong is better than paper thin in my way of thinking. If you could legally lay claim to writing any book from the classics to the most recently released book, what would it be and why?

Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland or some equally imaginative story which would bring new worlds alive for children and adults. Books like that have always given me great pleasure, however I've yet to pull off a children's story. Most of my stories turn themselves into romance whether I intend it or not and I very much enjoy writing romance. (Me smiling my agreement here.) There's something very beautiful though about children's faces who are listening to a story and caught up in that world. What a gift such storytellers give to the world.

If you could be any fictional character, who would it be and why?

I'd rather be a real character and travel the world in a beautiful ship with an excellent captain and a chef to cook all the meals while I write my stories.

Nice, can we come along? I promise to stay on my side of the ship and write, except when we agree on a critique session of course. What have you loved the most about this story? What have you hated about it?

I love the way Nate treats Kara, teaching her to snorkel, letting her know she is safe and he's there for her. He's protective and will take care of her but he also wants her to learn to be strong and unafraid.

Back when I had rewritten the story into first person (on advice I should not have followed) I didn't like the story very much. But maybe it didn't like me either. It didn't want to be in first person and that is what I should have listened to. Lesson learned.

If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?

Well, that ship with the crew would be nice. That or a beach house to write in. Other than that, I'm doing what I love and so grateful I am able to write full time now.

What is the one question you never get asked at interviews, but wish you did? (And of course we would like your answer.)

Hmm I've never really thought of that before. Who's my favorite secondary character? Old Moss, in my first book. He's one of those cranky old men, who isn't so cranky beneath that outer crust.

Where can we purchase your book?

My book is available online wherever ebooks are sold and on my publishers website.

http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-360/Aboard-the-Wishing-Star/Detail.bok

Thank you for having me here today. It's been fun!

You are welcome! Come again in the spring with your next release too, won't you?

Updates

Well, I'm not at Debra Parmley's blog today as expected. Instead we are shooting for the 6th. Don't hold your breath unless you are reading something that warrants that involuntary response!
Since I won't be hopping from blog to blog today it is time to decide whether or not my hero and heroine in Talisman: Crisscross in Time get out of their current crisis or rather how.
It is a romance so they will in the end, but at what cost?  Quinn- the hero is on trial for murder. Trish - the heroine has yet to pass the bar, but does she know enough to get him off? What game is she playing? Is one of them, or both insane? Of course at this point neither has verbally admitted to the other that they are in love, but if a character is willing to die for the other, doesn't that make it obvious?
Are you dying to know what I'm talking about? Okay, I know T. is, so here's a short excerpt to get you wanting more of this time-travel to the late 1800's.

"Would you care to tell the court of that afternoon?"


Quinn accurately related the events that took place up until they had left the saloon, but didn't mention the details of why such plans had been made.

"What happened when we left the saloon? I will remind you that you are under oath. There is no place here to spare the sensitivities of the women present, including myself."

"I drove ya to my place and we talked. Then ya left."

"We talked. Nothing more? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, we talked… maybe argued, but nothin' else I'm sure."

"Did you infer, by direct means, or hint… at bedding me?"

Quinn dropped his gaze. When he looked up Trish noticed the pain etched there.

"Yes, I did invite ya to my bed."

"For money?" Trish ignored the murmurs and pushed on before her resolve faded.

"No." His features wore a tentative apprehension.
"Didn't you indicate that you would make it 'worth my trip'?"

"Yes, but it was a ploy to cover your actions." he defended.

Judge Fairbanks shifted in his chair.

"Is this a ploy now?" she asked.

"I don't think so, no."

Trish wanted to press him further but her wanting to know how deep his feelings for her ran had nothing to do with this trial.

"Thank you, Quinn. Your honor, I am through questioning this witness, but request that I have the right to recall him."

The Sixth Key

will be released by Desert Breeze Publishing. "The Sixth Key" is a fantasy romance set in an alternate world.

Knocked down by a truck Riley wakes on another world. Her ex boyfriend Jothur has transported her there to help his people learn to shield their telepathic minds, although he doesn't tell Riley this. She dreams of two Jothurs, the blond boyfriend and a dark mysterious man. Danger threatens Riley and she flees to the Mutes. The non-psychic Mutes, led by Tynan, will be destroyed if Jothur's people learn to mind shield. Riley must use the Riddle of the Keys to learn the truth of Sacral's past and decide who to support in the battle for the future.

Publisher's Link for further information: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-324/The-Sixth-Key-Sue/Detail.bok

Sizzle from "Decision to Love"

By: Michelle Sutton      
We ran out of Sundays for Michelle to Sizzle. This one is available on Amazon kindle and Nook It will be in paperback in July.

She gazed at him. Her attention slid to his lips. The signal sent a rush of warmth through him. She was giving him a signal he hadn't seen in a very long time. She wanted him to kiss her.

The parking lot was virtually empty, and except for a few cars scattered about, they were alone. He inched closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her chin up and held his gaze.

For the first time in his life he was almost afraid to kiss her. He didn't want to lose her, but he didn't want to revert to the lover boy persona that charmed women in the past. He wanted to be real with her, and not worry about impressing her with his skills. He wanted to express his feelings of love for her. He just wanted her.

She didn't inch forward, but simply waited for him to make the next move. His throat suddenly parched, he forced himself to move past the fear and kiss her, hoping it would relax his nerves.

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers. She had the softest, most pliable lips he'd ever made contact with, and he didn't want to stop. But after several long moments, he leaned back and gazed into her eyes. He had never kissed a woman so gently and yet with such passion before.

Charla smiled at him and said, "That was nice."

It was beyond nice, but he didn't want to say that. Who knew that a closed-mouth kiss would stir him so deeply? He wanted to kiss her again, but didn't want to rush things if it would upset her.

They needed to go slow if their relationship was going to last. Yet, he'd never wanted anything more in his life, and his voice sounded breathless as he said, "I would like to do that again."

She said in a tender voice, "I would like that, too."

Cupping her face, he lowered his mouth to hers again, and this time he moved his lips over hers. His heart pounded like never before and he knew for certain that he loved this woman. He loved her in a deeper way than he'd ever loved before.

His kiss had been motivated by love, and not just passion. Though his blood stirred and his body responded to her touch, this time it wasn't about lust.

Charla sighed against his lips and ran her fingers through his hair. He nearly wept from the pleasure her gentle touch brought. He never thought he'd fall in love again.

When he broke the kiss, he peered into her eyes and said, "I love the way I feel when I'm with you, Charla. I believe God gave you to me as a gift, and I will treasure you always."

Her eyes welled with tears and she smiled. He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. Yes, his love for her ran deep, and yet they had only been dating two months. Granted, they'd spent nearly every day together over the past few weeks, and they enjoyed each other's company, but what he felt as he held her in his arms made him think about forever.

Michelle Sutton - Healing Hearts - fiction making an impact on real lives...

new titles releasing in 2012... Decision to Love, It's Not About Her, Somebody Love Me,

Out of Time, and Surprise Love    You can find me here...

Sunday Sizzle

This is from Out of Time (releasing in mid June 2012 -- this inspirational has a sensual rating)
Excerpt used by permission of author, Michelle Sutton.

Tears filled her eyes and she covered her mouth. "It's so beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you are," he whispered. "Can I help you put it on?"

She nodded and lifted her hair so he could clip the chain without it getting caught in back.

He leaned close as he put the necklace on her. She could smell his minty breath and felt its warmth on her cheek. Now would be a good time to give him a real kiss, right? Her heart pounded as she slowly turned her head.

Donny lowered his arms once the necklace had been secured. She dropped her hair and studied him, noting how he hadn't moved away from her like he often did.

Maybe it was the fact they were dressed up and ready to go out that had her nervous.

She'd been this close to Donny a number of times, but had never felt scared before. Not like she did right now.

His gaze dropped to her lips, but he made no attempt to close the space between them.

When he did kiss her, it was often a brief peck when he picked her up or brought her home. He'd kept his hands to himself and treated her with complete respect.

She admired his restraint, but for once she wished he couldn't control himself. It would make things so much easier for her right now. What would he think if she kissed him first?

Rather than waiting until she lost her nerve, she plunged ahead and said, "Merry Christmas."

He smiled, until she inched closer.

Her lips captured his with as much emotion as she could offer. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and she pulled him closer. The scent of his aftershave made her dizzy with desire. Whatever scent he wore on his skin made him even more irresistible.

With a soft moan in his throat, Donny tugged her closer. He parted his lips like he wanted to taste her and ran his tongue over her lips. She relaxed in his arms while his tongue slipped inside and explored. What a heady, sensual feeling they made as their mouths moved over each other in a way that made her pulse pound. She could get lost in the sensation of their lips caressing and his tongue gliding over hers in an intimate dance.

To get even closer, she scooted until she sat on his lap. She couldn't miss his arousal, which made her passion spark to life until she groaned.

Parts of her body heated that she never knew kissing could ignite. She felt herself contemplating things they could do right now. Things she'd told herself they would not do. So why had she changed her mind? His kisses were like a drug, and she was hooked.

The way he kissed her made her rules seem silly. Kissing shouldn't feel this good, but it did. In fact, kissing Donny was sinfully delicious. Their contact was so sensual and alluring; she couldn't help but want to experience more. This was the reason she needed to stay away from him. She never should have opened the door through sensual kissing. Now it was too late.

He shifted on the couch as she eased away from him. He captured her gaze and said, "Wow. Was that my Christmas gift?"

She licked her lips and moved so she sat up straight and in the process she'd inched a bit further from him. She knew if she didn't create some space between them soon they would get into serious trouble.

"Yeah, it was."

Donny ruffled his bangs and blew out a tense breath. "What took you so long?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I've been waiting for months for you to feel comfortable enough to kiss me, and wow, when you finally did, it was enough to set me on fire."

A shy grin tugged at her lips. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to tease you."

"Don't be sorry. It was amazing. Maybe because I wasn't expecting it."

"Maybe." She grinned. "Or maybe our chemistry is just right."

His eyes grew serious as he studied her a moment. "I'm not sure what to do about my feelings for you. They keep growing. You said you didn't want to be more than friends. Have you changed your mind? 'Cause I am so ready for more if you are."



You can buy Out of Time (in June) HERE

Chatting with Dave Bond

Q:  Regular followers will notice that the scrolling books have disappeared. There is a reason for that... to accommodate my guest, Dave Bond. Dave, would you like to share with readers why you have requested this accommodation?


A: The complete answer is more technical than anyone, including me, wants to delve into, as a blind person, I use software on my "normal" computer known as "screen reading" software. It is very smart (and expensive), and simply reads what is on the screen. I have a tremendous amount of control over what it reads me, and how, including the speed and pitch of the voices, as well as the ability to change voices if I choose.

I use the standard voice pre-loaded with the software. The software is called JAWS (Job Access With Speech). You might derive from this name (first sold back in the early 90s I believe) how the focus of making computers accessible to blind persons has a connection to jobs. How well things have worked out is a topic for another discussion, but suffice it to say, because of JAWS, I can type using a regular computer and a regular word processing program (Word), and do most of what any other author is able to do concerning writing and editing a manuscript.

In recent years, with the Internet (and most other computer programs) becoming more and more graphical, screen readers struggle to interpret the screen properly, if at all. An image file of a building, for instance, has no data within itself to pass on to JAWS. "Hi, I'm a 50-story building. I am made out of mostly glass and gray stone. I'm facing east, with the rising sun giving all my glass a sparkling look. There are some high clouds, so the sky you see above me is a powdery blue."

Really? Anyway, graphics make things very tricky sometimes. The banners many blogs (and many web sites) display are not necessarily graphical (although they might be), but because they are moving (constantly changing), screen reading software is confused, as it tries to read the changing text, instead of other text I may be interested in reading. If the banner or scrolling displays are turned off, or don't exist, then my screen reader has a much easier time navigating and reading the page.

I hope this helps some understand the basics of using a screen reader!

Q: ...our disabilities are not limitations, but windows to new avenues in our lives. In my case, and I'm assuming in yours, our writing.

A: I am fairly confident I wouldn't be an author had I not lost my sight 24 years ago. I was 33 then, and working as a project manager for a construction company. I had a degree in technical illustration, and was a very "visual" person. It took some time after losing my sight, but when a window to write in fact opened, I did enter in and am glad I did!

Q: I also find it inspiring that you continue to enjoy the outdoors and would like to ask you about that.

A: Actually, my love of, and participation in the outdoors has lessened since losing my sight. I have years of memories of hunting and fishing, of hiking, of camping, and canoeing. I also did some skiing, I loved to play ice hockey on the ponds and lakes in the winter, and I loved playing church softball. I have tons of memories, and it's these memories more than any present day participation I interject into my stories.

Q: You know, I considered writing only after so many other avenues in my life where shut down, closed or pulled out from under me. I know I mourned over those things I lost. Did you go through a type of mourning, too?

A: I can't say I experienced a clearly defined period of mourning. Interestingly, now that I've been blind for about 24 years, I find I have "down" moments when I experience a kind of mourning. If you can call frustration and a little anger, mourning. I also tried a number of career avenues after the job I landed in after graduating college (as a blind person) was eliminated. This was in 2000. I initially sent out some resumes for non-profit organizations looking for a program director (my previous position) but soon gave up on that. I tried everything from web site design/maintenance, to becoming a certified nutritionist, to going back to college to begin masters working marriage and family counseling. But, writing eventually became something I quickly developed an interest in, and as they say, the rest is history!

Q: So, I hope I'm not spoiling anything from "The Attache", do you think the cable up the mountain is feasible? I mean it sounded totally possible to me, except that maybe if the mountain is public land there might be issues there. Obviously an author must pretend those political challenges don't exist.

A: Zach Brenner (the blinded male protagonist) inherited 300 acres, on which the mountain was located. So, it was not public land. I am fairly mechanically minded, and I "invented" the cable system based on what I considered a feasible concept. From a mechanical point of view. Because in reality, it really wasn't practical. But when Zach first thinks up the system, yes, it was entirely plausible IMO. Not that there wasn't any other way, but the cable system is what he thought up. FYI, in book 3 (Out Of The Desert), Zach's brother, Joel, returns to the Rocky Glen homestead, and, without giving too much away, Joel will end up with some of the 300 acres. You'll have to read the novel to see what he wants to do with it!

Q: Since you brought it up... Book 3. How many books are you planning in this series?


A: I've got 2 3-book contracts with DBP. Two trilogies, to put it another way. The Attaché was book 1 in the series entitled, 'All Things Are Possible,' and A Time To Build is book 1 in the series entitled, 'A Time For Everything' series. I hope to have my web site updated shortly where visitors can read more about these books/series, as well as see the cover art for both book 1's.

http://www.authordavidbond.com/newest.php

Q: Can you give us a blurb for 'A Time to Build'?

The short blurb which may appear on the Desert Breeze page follows:

Thirteen years is a long time. But not long enough for Brian Marshall to forget the face of the woman who stepped inside his office one July morning. Has the one mistake he made in his life finally come back to exact its toll?

Q: Can you share a link to your website?

http://www.authordavidbond.com/

Tickle Tease on Thursday

Tickling your interest with Dave Bond's new release, Just out today - A Time To Build.

Brian took his time making his way to The Corner Café shortly after five. The front door stood wide open at one of the vacant spaces half-way between the Donahue Brothers office and Hallie's place. He paused and peered into the darkened interior. He heard voices, but saw no one. He looked for a sign announcing what might be coming, but couldn't find one.


In front of the café, sure enough, a large butcher-block island stood on the sidewalk, as if the previous owners wanted to dump it and get away as fast as possible. He went up to it and gave it a tentative push. It barely rocked. A closer inspection showed him the block was probably eighteen inches thick, with massive legs. He wasn't so sure Joe would be strong enough to help him.

"You're here. Thank goodness."

Hallie spoke to someone inside then walked toward where he stood. He repeated his earlier push on the massive piece of wood. "This thing weighs a ton."

"I know. Wanda and I tried to move it." She lifted her eyebrows at his expression. "I'm tougher than I look."

A middle-aged man approached Hallie, and she turned and spoke to him for a minute. He stood, his hand resting on the oily, knife riddled butcher-block top. Brian's gaze stole a glance at this woman whose mysteries drew him to her like a magnet. She had a pair of work gloves on, and he detected the sharp smell of varnish. A dark brown speck sat on the tip of her nose as if she'd dipped it toward the open can to smell it.

He jumped when a finger jabbed his side. Joe smirked and nodded toward Hallie, still engrossed in a conversation. "Man. I was hoping you would have had this thing in there by now."

Brian repeated his pushing action for the third time. "Did you eat your Wheaties today?"

"Gees. Just leave it here. She can serve outdoor stuff."

"We're going to put this inside, exactly where she wants it."

"Rock climbing later?"

"I told you. No."

Had he subconsciously wanted to allow free time to be around Hallie? He looked at Joe, dressed in his sport shorts and woven athletic shirt. The guy had the look of a man with supreme confidence in himself, especially in the area of coaxing a pretty girl into some liaison. A glint in his eye wasn't hard to translate.

"Sorry, gentlemen. Hello, Joe?"

Joe attempted a clumsy bow. "At your service."

Joe stepped around the hunk of wood separating him from Hallie and held her hand. "I've come by a few times during my lunch hour these last few weeks. Fantastic coffee."

"You look familiar. I'm glad you approve."

Hallie's expression lacked its usual save-the-world glow. She extracted her hand from Joe's and blew air through her lips which funneled up toward a few rebellious tendrils of hair sliding across her forehead.

"We'll get this inside so you can get back to whatever you're doing. You must have a million things to do."

"We've been working all hours, but it's coming along. Actually, I had a good day today. Three women from the church I attend volunteered to help me stain and hang wall coverings. The place is really looking good, if I do say so. You'll have to let me know what you think."

Her words might have been meant for both males standing near her, but her gaze never left Brian's face. She all but ignored Joe. Brian nodded involuntarily. A reflex action she had control of whenever she was near.

Hallie darted inside the café and returned with a heavy-duty dolly. The men wrestled the butcher-block onto it, then eased the solid mass inside. It took all of fifteen minutes to move it and deposit it where she indicated.

"Man. It's probably a good thing we're not rock climbing tonight. I think I used up my vitamins for the day."

Guilty Hearts Tease

http://www.susanjaymes.com/

"Give your mom a hug and a kiss goodbye." He resisted at first, but relented. "You be good. I'll see you tomorrow."


"Okay." He pushed away from her, looking around the room hoping no one important had seen them.

"Come on, crew." Sandra led the boys out with Nate following behind them.

"He'll be fine, you know. My sister is a wonderful mother, and Nate isn't so bad himself."

Tears pricked Dee's eyes and she blinked hard. If Matt had stayed in Pine Crest afterSteve's funeral, it could have been them walking out as a family, arm in arm. She wouldn't have to be alone. Why am I so emotional tonight? Did Sandra get to her that badly? She just sent her son into the lion's den, and he'd rather be there than with her. Every time Jared opted to spend his time with friends or Matt, she felt like he was slipping away. Dee shoved her hands into her back pockets.

"Yeah, I know. I just have such a hard time letting him go. Man, when he goes off to college, I will have to be locked away for a week!"

Matt shoved his arms into his jacket and zipped it up. He grabbed her jacket and held it open for her to slide into. "Come on. Put on your jacket and walk out with me before you embarrass the kid more by crying. If anyone he knows from school sees it, he'll never be able to hold his head high again."

Dee shook her head. "Gee, thanks. That helps a lot." He chuckled. She turned around and let him help her with her jacket. His arms slid around her as he pulled her close to whisper in her ear. "He'll always be your little boy. Just maybe not in public." He squeezed her tight, and she heard him inhale deeply as he breathed in her scent, tickling her neck. A warm sensation shot though her body, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring it. Then she recalled Sandra'swords, which chased away the comfort of being held. With all the force she could muster she pulled away and he let his arms fall.

"This probably isn't a good place for this, either, with Jared's friends here and all."

"Okay. I'll walk you out." He grabbed her hand and held tight. There was no way she could shake loose without making a scene, so she relaxed and let him lead her out. Gradually, for some reason, she lost the strength and the need to push him away. Instead she found the need to not let him go. All rational thought slipped away from her mind.

The air, cold but no longer frigid, didn't cool her desire. Warmer temperatures and the bright sun had caused the snow to melt, and the smell of wet earth tickled her nose, reminding her spring was near. Maybe it was cabin fever that made her want to jump Matt. No, that's just an excuse. She never stopped wanting Matt, and at the moment, she had no desire to resist him.

Jared had gone to Matt's sister's, and she was feeling weak after being attacked. There didn't seem to be a good reason to deny herself the comfort Matt could give her.He held her hand as they walked to her car in silence. There were no words needed, they both knew what was about to happen. Maybe Matt had planned it from the moment she sat down at his table. Although she still believed it wasn't right, she knew she wouldn't put up a fight tonight.

"Here we are, my dear." Matt stopped in front of her car.

"Where are you parked?"

"Over there." He pointed to his car.

"No more rusted Mustang?"

"Hey, I loved that car."

"Did it get you far enough away from me?"

Matt rubbed the back of his hand gently down her cheek. Dee leaned into it as her eyes closed. "Not tonight, Dee. Let's not discuss it right now. Tonight it's all about you and me and what we never finished."

Dee opened her eyes. "I don't want to finish anything. I just want to feel good with no guilt, just once."


Where to buy:


http://www.amazon.com/Guilty-Hearts-ebook/dp/B007K1OCQA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332552126&sr=1-1

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/guilty-hearts-susan-jaymes/1107712025

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-guiltyhearts-751695-149.html

http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-274/Guilty-Hearts-Susan-Jaymes/Detail.bok

Sunday Sizzle

When Love Collides

Excerpt used by permission of the author, Michelle Sutton.

He coughed into his hand and rubbed his eyes. "I wish I had known. I never would've let you go. I would have loved you the way you deserved, so you wouldn't have gone back to him."

She touched his damp cheek, turning his face toward her so she could look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"The thing is..." His voice thickened, "I never stopped loving you."

He said he still loved her?

Cradling her face with his hands, he drew closer. "I still love you."

His lips gently pressed against hers. She expected it to remain chaste and end there, but he deepened his kiss, exploring her mouth as he caressed her tongue. With a low moan deep in her throat, she plunged her fingers into his hair and drank as much sweetness as he poured into her. If she'd known his kisses would be so sensual and intense, she might have persuaded him to kiss her a long time ago.

He eased away from her, his breathing ragged. "I need to catch my breath."

Still amazed at her intense physical response, she trembled, afraid to look at him. Where did he learn to kiss like that?

"I... I need to take you home."

She'd never known such depth of emotion in her life. Or such heated passion. She'd never felt this way about Carl. Not even close. Scott had opened the door to his heart and offered her entrance. Now she wanted so much more.

But could she give him her heart in return?



You can buy When Love Collides HERE

It's Not About Her - Sizzling Kiss

It's Not About Her by Michelle Sutton (excerpt used with permission)
http://edgyinspirationalauthor.blogspot.com/

The idea of her purity held his attention, because that same innocence had captivated him once before, when he'd loved Annie. "So you've never kissed a guy?"

"No." Her eyes met his, glistening with emotion. Was that shame? Why? She had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Wow." Tony stared at her for several seconds. "I thought you and Chase…"

Choking on her tears, Deena cried, "I'm sorry we teased you."

Loosening his grip on her wrists, he paused. Then it suddenly occurred to him. She was embarrassed by her lack of experience.

Chase, being a nice guy, probably befriended her to boost her confidence, not because he was attracted to Deena.

His heart thumped as a soul-stirring impulse filled his mind and permeated his bones. "I could be your first…if you want."

Her eyes widened and she gasped, "My…first?"

His heart now slamming against his ribs, he smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Okay." Her cheeks reddened.

He could feel her small frame trembling underneath his weight. He hoped she wasn't afraid of him. He would never hurt her, or any girl for that matter.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his face until their lips met. The softness of her welcoming mouth surprised him as his lips clung to hers, drinking her in. He couldn't seem to pull away, and savored the taste of her a moment longer than he'd anticipated.

He hovered above her for several seconds, staring into her gorgeous eyes. She tasted pure and innocent, reminding him of Annie, only Deena's hungry mouth moving beneath his felt even more sensual and appealing.

As he observed the emotion displayed in her eyes, an unexpected earthquake of pleasure shook Tony to the core. Stunned by the intense emotion her kiss had brought to his soul, he sat up and released her hands. Never before had a simple kiss rocked his world to its very foundation.

To his surprise, he actually wanted to kiss her again. The thought startled him as his gaze lingered on her lips. His heart pounded until he could hear his pulse in his heartbeat.



You can buy It's Not About Her HERE http://www.amazon.com/Its-Not-About-Second-Glance/dp/0983883661/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

Sizzling Kiss from Dark Days of Promise

Wondering how I put the exercise of writing a Sizzling Kiss together in my own work?
My first effort last fall  for your perusal.

(excerpt are unedited)
Going to the refrigerator, I pulled the gallon jug from the cold, shaking it.
“Oh those boys, I can’t seem to keep milk in the house. Looks like we’re almost out.” I pulled the last clean glass from the cupboard to pour the last of the milk. He stood to join me near the counter. The milk looked refreshing. I licked my lips in subconscious knowledge of the sweet coolness of the liquid.
“Why don’t you drink it?” He suggested, making a fist to cover the cough that escaped with his words.
“I couldn’t, I poured it for you.” I answered, offering the glass to him.
“You have a few swallows, then I’ll finish it.” He accepted the glass but didn’t lift it to his lips.
I gazed into the warm recesses of his eyes, overwhelmed with his nearness. My previous immunity to his charisma wilted before plunging into the warmth of his magnetism.
“Drink,” he ordered placing the glass in my hand.
“Yes sir,” I answered, lifting the glass to my lips while watching his eyes. They seemed to change, their color growing richer, warmer and more intense. I busied myself with swallowing and watching his eyes and didn’t notice when he reached in his pocket for the mistletoe again. When I handed the glass to him, he finished the milk with two large swallows. Smiling, he lifted the mistletoe above my head once more. I glanced up at it before returning my gaze to his eyes. My stomach flew to my throat. His presence overwhelmed me.
“Another kiss on the cheek?” I murmured the question with a smile.
He lowered the mistletoe while setting the empty glass on the counter. His gaze locked with mine. “Do you trust me?”
“Do I have a choice?” I whispered.
With the mistletoe still in hand, he placed it at the back of my head. I felt the strength of his fingers as they became entwined in my hair. My heart accelerated its beating dance, knowing a much more euphoric rush would accompany his kiss. More than his first visit, more than his peck on my cheek, more . . . A warm quiver of anticipation settled over me, fixing me to the spot. The music from the movie in the next room swelled, intensifying the moment. His lips brushed mine hinting of gingerbread and milk. In that instant, I wondered if I had ever truly experienced such a kiss. The gentle pressure was warm and sweet, inviting me to live in the moment. An experience that had eluded me in all my years with another . . . I couldn’t even remember his name. My adrenalin roller coaster revved its engine in my stomach before climbing with massive force in an upward motion before dropping to my deepest core. And yet it didn’t last long enough. He no sooner released my lips than I had the distinct feeling that he reclaimed everything he had just given me.

---Not enough sizzle? Stay tuned for more Sizzling Kisses and the second kiss between these characters--- but no promise as to the date as some wonderful authors are sharing theirs as well. *snicker -tease*

Tickle Tease Tuesday

Do you see the counter to the right??? --->>>
I'm soo excited!!
Sorry, this excerpt isn't from that upcoming release but another project that I just can't let die.

Least readers begin to complain that I never post any of my own work these days...
Let me indulge by sharing a unedited scene from a manuscript I'm still debating on.

Trevor stopped Kim's hand as she gently dabbed at his face with his own. “I’m being doctored by a graduate of ‘Mickey Mouse’ first aid?”

“Who said anything about graduating?”
He reached for her to tickle her sides. She laughed and wiggled away from his hands while rolling her chair backwards. “Stop, or I’ll pour peroxide all over your cut!”
“No you won’t,” he stated, ready to resume his tickle attack.
“Then stop.” She continued when he leaned back in the chair. “Actually I did graduate from some organized first aid class, but I think I cheated.”
“You cheated? How can you cheat in a first aid class?”
She applied the bandage to his cheek. “I kissed the instructor.”
“Just one kiss?” Trevor eyed her suspiciously.
“Well,” she dragged her answer. “He said he was teaching me mouth-to-mouth.”
Trevor chuckled knowingly, “And you believed him?”
“No.”
“You’re right. You cheated.”

Launching Mysterious Mondays

A Legacy of Lies with Stephanie McGee.

It was cold.

Too cold.

The eerie silence of a moonless, starless night engulfed him.

Jim shivered. It had been high noon only a few minutes ago. Had he fallen asleep? He didn't remember being tired. He shook his head and tried to focus his groggy mind. He peered around cautiously. Where was his horse?

A rustling sound in the bushes startled him. His eyes darted to investigate. Nothing.

No, wait. There it was again. Off to the left. His eyes strained, searching for the slightest movement or shape. Something. Anything.

Silence.

He felt like a kid afraid of the dark.

Get a hold of yourself, man.

Fingers of fear teased along the back of his neck. The hairs stood on end. He shivered.

Where was that horse?

"Ciervo!" His voice sounded weak even to his own ears. He tried again. Now he was completely hoarse.

Swallowing the panic rising from the pit of his stomach, he took a cautious step forward.

He heard stirring in the woods behind him. Squirrels? He listened intently.

The noise came again. No. Definitely not a squirrel. Something was pacing in the woods. Deliberate. Stalking. Jim's mouth went dry.

Mountain lion.

His heart raced and he looked desperately around, scanning the darkness. Blackness blanketed the meadow. Jim hoped Ciervo hadn't wandered too far. He started to walk. Slowly. Calculating. He couldn't tell in what direction he moved.

His cell! He could use it as a light source. Jim's hand brushed at his hip. It wasn't there. He frowned. It always stayed on his belt. He never left the ranch without it.

Jim's eyes strained, but he could barely make out his surroundings. The farther he walked, the darker it got. His breathing came in quick, rapid intakes.

A shrill sound broke the silence. His heart leaped.

"Ciervo?"

Where was he? Was the mountain lion after him?

Hoof beats. Thank goodness.

They were pounding quicker than his rapidly drumming heart. A shadow appeared about thirty feet in front of him.

It wasn't his beloved horse. It looked like something galloping up from Hell.

The horrid creature ran wildly toward him. The cold air caused the hot breath to billow from its nostrils like a smoking dragon.

The monster's eyes looked like no earthly thing he had ever seen. The bulging orbs had a luminescent shine that came from deep behind the pupils. In the pitch black they glowed like a ghostly beacon.

The horse-shaped beast lowered his head. The creature was preparing to slam into him.

Jim threw himself out of its path and landed sharply on his hip. His right thigh slammed into a large, extruded boulder. Fire shot down his leg. Ignoring the pain, he jumped to his feet, eyes probing the darkness for the crazed brute. The ghostly version of Ciervo had vanished.

Despite the cold, he began to sweat. Jim felt eyes boring into him. Someone or something watched him. He was exposed. Unprepared. His heart hammered in his chest. His body refused to move.

Another sound. Different. It wasn't rustling limbs or bushes, and it certainly wasn't the horse's wild hoof beats. It was quiet, like a soft whisper. Crying? No, calling out for something.

He strained to catch the garbled words. The voice grew louder. More urgent. Still he couldn't make out the woeful tone. Then, as if his brain finished translating some cryptic code, the word became clear.

"James!"

Again. Louder this time. "James... James..." The voice rose and fell in the darkness. Its eerie sound slithered into his ears.

"Hello?" His voice echoed hoarsely. He held onto a feeble hope the voice came from someone nearby lost in the dark along with him. No one here knew him by that name. He stood holding his breath, listening.

Suddenly, a freight train of frigid air knocked him backward. Terrified, he dared not to move. The voice came again.

"You must help. Soon it will be too late--"

An insidious roar erupted around him. Hot, musty breath bathed Jim's face. He struggled backward. He couldn't quite make out the figure standing over him. The silhouette was enormous. Its shoulders spanned at least four feet. An odd-shaped head swayed from side-to side.

It growled.

Paralyzed with fear, Jim lay helpless. The creature rose to stand upright. Seven. Eight feet tall. Jim gasped for air. His feet tore into the soft ground, trying to gain footing. Desperately trying to get away.

The creature came crashing toward him.


Buy links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/A-Legacy-of-Lies-ebook/dp/B007K1LS58/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1332042156&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-legacy-of-lies-stephenia-mcgee/1107713261?ean=2940014338950

Desert Breeze Publishing: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-273/A-Legacy-of-Lies/Detail.bok

Sunday Sizzle

In Sheeps Clothing

Michelle, I am seeing a trend with your kisses...they are getting better...Your first one was posted on May 6th and we have continued each and every Sunday since then with one from you. It is true, one gets better with practice and in writing, we know that the first kiss is the SIZZLE of the book.

(Excerpt used by permission of the author, Michelle Sutton.)

Jacob shrugged. He tried to act nonchalant, but his blood roared through his veins, making his pulse sound like it hammered in his ears. He'd never felt such an intense physical reaction when his ex touched him. His response to Stephanie was almost overwhelming. What could that mean?

Stephanie sighed and said, "Okay, so you aren't scared. But I get that you're nervous about kissing me. I'm nervous too."

He shook his head hoping to snap out of the haze. "Nervous? Not at all."

"So kiss me then. I've never been kissed by a Christian man before. I want to know if it's better than kissing a regular guy." She studied him a moment as if challenging him to try.

He wanted to respond, but he couldn't seem to get his body to move. She closed the space between them and gently pressed her lips against his.

A spark ignited between them the moment their mouths touched. And as quickly as the kiss began, it was over. She stepped back and rolled her eyes to the side as if thinking.

He blinked and tried to clear his thoughts. She'd kissed him so fast he hadn't had time to kiss her back. The situation felt awkward to say the least.

"Not bad. At least I wasn't repulsed by it." Her teasing grin made him long to pull her into a fierce embrace and give her a kiss that would leave her breathless. Before he could talk himself out of it, he did just that.

Her soft curves molded against him as he pulled her close. He angled his head to give him better access to her mouth. Her lips were soft under his, velvety even. He savored her moist kisses like a man hungering for affection for far too long. His body stirred and he had to pull away before he got himself in serious trouble.

"Wow. Much better that time." She smiled. Her cheeks had flushed bright pink. "Christians are definitely better kissers."

Jacob smiled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Not all Christians. Just this one."



You can buy In Sheep's Clothing HERE

Simmering Saturdays

I recently read a romance that the author's view of making a romance simmer was the romantic lead's constant whispering in the protagonists ear and his fingers always wrapping a lock of her hair around his fingers. In my opinion that is not simmering, that borders on letting the romance go stale!
And yet not every scene can hold a sizzling kiss so where does that leave us? My answer? Letting the relationship simmer to a boiling point.
Okay, granted -- I am far froma amaster on this one, but here is what I propose in the novel I am currently working on, Book One in The Talisman Series. Mind you, this excerpt is still in the writing stages...

A breeze stirred Trish's hair about her face, tickling her nose and eyes. Echoes of a sharp headache reminded her of her collision with the livery door. She slowly opened her eyes. A man stood at her window. She squinted, forcing bleary eyes to focus. "Quinn?"


He turned slowly and she noticed he held something. Fabric. Her clothes? "My bet is that this ain't your blood. No woman bleeds like this."

Trish tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness making her head spin pulled her back down. Swallowing hard and refocusing, she pushed herself upright. "Blood? What blood?"

"Found these bloody clothes. Ya had 'em tucked under your mattress. Whose blood is this?"

Trish stared at him wishing his back wasn't to the light. She couldn't make out his expression. His tone was as level as it had been at the poker table with Ace. Usually his tone held a vibrant quality, even when training a young horse. Not now.

"You rifled through my things?"

"No. Answer the question, Trish. Whose blood?" his tone, though still quiet had an edge to it.

Trish struggled with how to answer, her words rushing out without the usual care of an attorney. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I couldn't save him. He died in my arms. I didn't kill him. You've got to believe me."

Quinn's chest expanded with his deep intake of air, yet his words remained calm. "Whose blood?"

Trish shook her head, the pain rolling from side to side as the tears she'd held back burst to the surface. "Albert," her voice cracked. "I didn't--"

"Why didn't you stay with him?"

"I did," she swallowed trying to regain her composure.

"No. You weren't there when I found him," he said, his words accusing her.

"I did. I just-- I heard someone coming and realized how it would look if they found me with him. You have to believe me, I didn't kill him."

He stepped closer and she shrank back. "And the blood? Why?"

Trish kept her hands close to her body, but raised them defensively.

"I found him there, bleeding when I arrived. I held him in my arms and tried to comfort him. I lost it. I didn't know what to do. The horse was stamping. The scent of blood-- oh." Her hands flew to her face, covering her tears. "So much blood-- I tried to stop the bleeding and it just kept coming."

Sobs drowned out her words; she shuddered wishing she had done more. Wishing she'd never been there. Wishing she had never come here. Wishing he believed her.

Quinn stepped to the bed, dropping the stained clothing between them. "Ya should have stayed."

"I didn't know it was you. I thought the murderer…"

Quinn sank to the bed. The bedsprings groaned under his added weight, but he didn't touch her. "Ya should have stayed and told me who murdered him."

"But I don't know who did it."

Quinn glowered at her. "Tell me. No more lies. No more tears."

Trish stared at him in silence. She couldn't tell him.

"Damn it, Trish," his words sounded tortured. He pushed her back on the bed, seizing a handful of hair, constraining her. His kiss demanded she yield herself to him. At first she fought him, but when the weight of his chest came down on her, she surrendered.

For most of a week she had dreamed of his kissing her here. Her dreams had warmed her with excited anticipation. This was not as she had hoped. Tears of abject horror replaced tears of sorrow. The pressure of his lips bruised hers and yet his hands remained in her hair and against her cheek. The moment was brief, feeling torturously long.

He moved away, turning his back to her and breathing hard. "No more lies, Trish. The truth. All of it."

She remained prone on her bed where he had left her. "I told you," she whispered.

"Start at the beginning." He pulled the sheet up to cover her. "Why did Curly have you tethered?"

"I guess because he was sick. I certainly didn't deserve it."

"He isn't your papa?"

Trish gasped. "No!"

"Where you giving your--your body to Albert?" He sounded like he might choke on his words.

"No!" Trish rolled away from him, coming to a sitting position. "Never, how could you think that?"

Strong hands reached for her pushing her back to the mattress. "Woman, I am through playing games with you. Tell me the truth, all of it."

She stared up at him, willing him to believe her. She shook her head, fresh tears spilling form her eyes, marking fresh trails to her ears. "I can't."

He let go of her only to flick his bowie knife free, placing it at her neck. "Tell me the truth."

"I would never offer myself to Albert," she whispered. "I couldn't."

"Why?"

She swallowed and answered, "Because I'm --."

"He didn't want your body so you swung the hammer at his head in jealous anger. Is that it?" Twisted distaste wrinkled his handsome features.

"No," she gasped. "I'm not a murderer."

"But you killed Old Curly." Quinn's eyes glared at her, daring her to lie.

"That depends on how you plea and your defense attorney. Technically, I could plea self defense and get off while you would be found guilty. I'm only an accessory."

"How do you know that?"

"You wouldn't believe me." He applied pressure to her skin with the knife.

"Try me."

"Put your knife away and pull up a chair."

He looked around her scantily furnished room. "You don't have a chair."

She forced a weak smile, "Details… the knife, put it away?"

With a flick of his wrist the knife disappeared. "It is where I can get to it if you don't tell me the truth."

"Then you better find yourself a really comfortable place to sit and have an open mind."

+++++
Tension? You decide.

Feisty Fridays

Introducing Feisty Fridays.
Trying something new as usual.
I'm not sure if I should focus on fist fights within a manuscript, feisty heroines, frisky romances, or energetic dialogue.
Maybe all three, but not necessarily all at the same time.
If you have a preferance, please feel free to leave a comment.

For now, I'm thinking a fist fight. Granted, I'm not real good at writing a fight scene so I'm willing to accept a few helpful comments.

(Dark Days of Promise excerpt is unpublished and unedited.)

“Do you want me to stick around?” Trevor asked before turning off the engine.

“Maybe a little while. I thought I’d fix us some spaghetti or something. It might not be very good. I haven’t cooked since I moved here. Ben’s a gentleman, I’m sure he’ll leave if I ask him to. You didn’t leave him much room to move his car,” she observed.

“Mind sliding over?” Trevor smirked. Kimmy moved across the bench seat recognizing his negative vibes for Ben. He helped her to her chair, with showy concern, while a stormy-eyed Ben watched from the top of the cabin’s ramp. Trevor pushed the chair around the truck only to find Ben blocking his path.

“I’ll take her in,” Ben stated flatly.

“I don’t think so. I’ve been invited to stay.”

“I don’t like your tone,” Ben retorted.

“I don’t care what you like, she asked you to leave earlier,” Trevor countered.

Ben sidestepped slightly as though to move out of the way, only to throw a roundhouse punch above Kimmy’s head at Trevor’s jaw. Trevor blocked most of Ben’s punch with his cane. The cane clattered to the gravel. Trevor stepped back to regain his balance. He recovered quickly sending a straight right to Ben’s chin. Ben hit the ground. He found his hand on Trevor’s cane. He picked it up and swept Trevor’s feet. Trevor went down landing on his backside. He took a moment to recover his wind. Ben didn’t wait. He struck Trevor with the cane. The balled end sliced across Trevor’s cheek. Ben swung again bloodying Trevor’s nose.

Kimmy found it hard to believe what she witnessed. Other than this morning, she’d never seen either man raise his hand in anger, yet here they fought at her feet.

“Stop it! Stop it! That’s enough!” She reached for the cane stopping Ben’s third blow with her arm, receiving a nasty bruise.

None of the three noticed the group that gathered. Randall stepped in, ripping the cane from Ben’s hand.

“Ben, I never expected you, of all people to strike a disabled man,” Randall intervened, offering Ben his hand. “I think you should leave.”

Ben looked at Kimmy, anger clearly written in his expression as he accepted Randall’s hand.

“If this broke down wanna be pimp’s what you want, get out. Leave.”

Kimmy dropped her jaw, retorting, “You can’t fire me Ben. I don’t work for you.”

“You may not think so,” Ben hissed.

Kimmy looked at Randall, her eyes begging him to refute Ben’s words.

“Kimmy, get him cleaned up.” Randall said, pointing at Trevor. “We’ll talk about this later.”

He handed Trevor’s cane to a boy who stood nearby, his other hand heavy on Ben’s shoulder.

“Give the man his cane after Ben leaves,” he said to the boy, steering Ben toward his car.

Trevor wiped at the blood on his face before taking Kimmy’s proffered hand.
 
++++
Humm...what do you think? Needs more action, but how?

Tickle Tease Tuesday

Dave bond is Tickling us with this excerpt from The Attache.

Zach pushed away from the table. She figured he was getting the phone, but he trailed his hand along the edge of the table until he arrived where she sat. He reached out tentatively then pulled his hand back. "Can you... um, stand up?"


He wore an odd look. She placed the last of the granola bar on the table and pushed her chair out. "Okay. What's this about?"

He reached again, and she realized he wanted to hold her hand. Slivers of sunlight filtered in through the kitchen window, and a shiver traveled up her spine.

"I might have waited for a better time, whatever that is, but I'm not going to. Jessie? I want to tell you something... I need to tell you something, and I'm not sure how you'll take this. I'm not sure how to say it either."

His grip was firm, his hands slightly damp. Zach hid his nervousness well. His eyes were wide though, so wide she wondered how it was possible they were sightless. Whatever he wanted to tell her, Zach was paying a price. She instinctively gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

"I'll be all right. You don't need to worry. I'll be with Suzy for a couple days, and then I think I'll go back to Lancaster for a little while. So, Zach..."

"Lancaster? Home?"

"Well, yeah. What else?"

He shook his head, trying to smile. "You can't think of any other options?"

"Not at the moment. No."

"Is this because you think there's no job?"

"I don't have a job. How could I?"

"I don't know. No one's fired you, as far as I know."

"There's nothing for me to do. No business. You don't have to fire me, I'll just quit."

Jessie tugged her hands away. She heard the words, flying out of her mouth laced with poison. She was under attack, emotions and logic warring for dominance, something inside her clinging to a desperate memory. For the past three years, one thing, one man, had given her a reason to dream. Joel understood life, knew the meaning of love between a man and a woman. He was slipping away, his memory a gray mist in the awakening dawn.

If she stayed here, instead of seeing Joel, she would precipitate his demise. Joel would be gone forever. It was ludicrous to hope he would show up. How often did he come here? Almost never. She had to leave, had to flee for her sake, and Joel's sake. If not, Zach would block the way forever.

Zach's hands reached for her, but she was out of reach. "Jessie. Listen. What I need to tell you is this. I love you. I. Love. You. But the thing is, I know how you might take that, and I understand. But I couldn't have gone much longer without saying how I feel."

"Don't say that. Just don't say that. Zach, you remember the time I talked about Joel? Remember? There was this connection thing? I didn't tell you the whole story." She clasped and unclasped her fingers. "You see, he left his attaché, I told you that, but inside it, there was this... this manuscript. A romance story he was writing. Over the years, I've read it and re-read it. It isn't finished, but there was something in his writing, something that reached out to me and held on. You're laughing. Stop. Stop laughing..."

Jessie was finished with this. Joel had gotten more defense than he deserved at the moment. She needed him in the flesh, not in her dreams. Even a few more minutes in this house would threaten his emergence into her reality, bringing about her own betrayal.

Great Sizzling Kiss from Changes

By: Debra Erfert

Debra delivers with this one!

This is unedited and will soon be published by Walnut Springs Press.

“Did you kiss her goodnight?” His brows scrunched together at my question. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”


“No, I didn’t.” Micah ran his hand along the back of my calf, nearly driving me crazy. “I couldn’t think of kissing another woman—after you.”

“Micah?” I leaned closer again, close enough I breathed in his woodsy aftershave scent. “Why . . . why haven’t you . . .” How could I ask him why he never asked me out before? I felt like such a jealous woman—not after what he told me. He placed the bandage on my snakebite, and I got up. Maybe, if I didn’t look at him, I might be able to find out why we haven’t dated. My new fridge became very interesting. The top part was double-sided, and the bottom part was a freezer drawer.

“My brother is a plumber, and he’ll hook up the line you need so you can have water and ice coming out the front—if you’d like.” Micah stood behind me. I felt the warmth of his body, or it could be my nerves reacting to his close presence. “Did I tell you that my mom ordered a new range?” I shook my head. “It won’t be in for another week, but she’s happy you wanted the fridge, and she wants you to have the range too. Mom’s even going to switch out her dishwasher with a stainless steel version.” I turned my head a little, enough for me to see how far away Micah stood. “Do you want a dishwasher?” he asked.

I nodded, and realized not looking at him wasn’t any easier than staring at him.

“Why haven’t . . . haven’t you asked me—” I took in a quick breath, “out on a date?”

Micah turned me around by my shoulders. I kept my eyes on a single, totally fascinating button of his shirt, afraid of what I’d see if I looked into his eyes. But then all I had to do is remember how they matched the bright desert sky on a warm afternoon and my heart flipped against my lungs.

“We’ve never officially been out on a date, but . . .” he slowly slid his fingers down the back of my arms, creating a wave of gooseflesh in their wake, “I know so much about you. I know you’re deathly afraid of spiders.” He moved closer, and it was harder to take in a breath. “You have the cutest dance when you’re happy, and your best friend sets her own style trends every time she steps out the door.”

He lifted my hands and studied the scratches on my knuckles. “You have a solid right hook. You’re not afraid of snakes, and you’re smart—you know when to wear your boots. You can feel a touch as light as a web against your neck,” he said, brushing his fingers against my skin below my ear, making me dizzy. “You love your dog so much you let him sleep with you. And I know I don’t want to spend time with any other women since I met you.”

“Then . . . why haven’t . . . you ever . . . asked . . . me out?” I gasped a breath when Micah ran his fingers under my jaw and lifted my chin upward.

Micah lowered his head and whispered, “I’m asking you now,” and pressed his mouth on my trembling lips.

I’d waited for his kiss, wanted it as much as it seemed he did. I slid my hands up his chest, feeling the strong muscles in his shoulders before looping my arms around his neck. I didn’t want him to end the kiss as he did the last time—too quickly and abruptly. Every second that passed sent me tumbling deeper in love, as passion roiled in my stomach. Micah’s arms tightened around my waist like an amorous boa constrictor about ready to devour its prey, and I was in his unbreakable grip.

Sunday Sizzle

First Response

Sunday is becoming a habit for Michelle Sutton and I. She shares yet another of her Sizzling Kisses.
(Excerpt used by permision.)

"It's okay. Shh..." he whispered into her hair.

How could it be okay? Glancing up, she captured his gaze. "Why do I always cry like a baby when I'm with you? It's embarrassing."

He smiled tenderly. "Maybe you feel safe with me."

She couldn't help responding with a grin as she wiped her wet face with her palm. "I do."

"That's good." He sighed and kissed the top of her head. "So what do we do now?"

Muttering into his shirt she snorted, "You're asking me?"

He nudged her shoulder and chuckled softly as he reached for her chin. "Yeah, I am."

With heavy lids she peered at him and said, "Kiss me."

He scanned her face and rested his gaze on her lips. The inner struggle she witnessed in Chet's eyes made her stomach tumble. She could sense the tension building between them as his breathing grew shallow.

"I don't think I can court you, either." His thumb stroked her cheek.

A sensation, like a heavy weight had fallen on her chest, made it difficult to breathe. It was already over between them and their relationship had barely started to develop.

"You don't want to kiss me?" Nibbling on her lower lip, she fought more tears.

"Oh, I want to." He dipped his head and captured her mouth before she could respond.

His lips were gentle, yet insistent as they caressed hers. He plunged his fingers into her hair and drew her closer. She wrapped her arms around him.

Wow, this man sure knew how to melt her heart.

She tasted the salt from her tears as he kissed her again. Was she crying? She thought she'd stopped. Resting her hand on Chet's face, she sensed dampness and knew that he was getting emotional. But why would kissing her make him cry, unless he was saying goodbye? A chord of fear struck in her heart, so she broke the kiss to study him.

The passion filling his eyes left no doubt of his intentions. He wasn't planning to break up with her. Something deeper was happening between them. Something she couldn't describe, but wanted to feel more of. Leaning in closer, she kissed him again.

They still hadn't gone beyond gentle kisses. They were so tender and innocent, and breathtakingly sweet. After several more kisses she sensed his mouth opening and his tongue gently exploring, tasting hers. Hot and exciting, she couldn't contain her moan.


You can buy First Response HERE