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Monday, October 30, 2017

The Highlander is All That: Untamed Highlanders from Sabrina York #Giveaway

The Highlander Is All That
by Sabrina York
Elizabeth St. Claire has always been hard to please. Dreaming solely of Highlander men her whole life, no prancing London Lord can stand a chance at winning her heart...
… But perhaps a Scotsman can.
Elizabeth watches intrigued as the Highlander of her dreams, a Scotsman named Hamish Robb, arrives to oversee her season at the behest of her cousin, the Duke of Caithness. Elizabeth doesn’t hide her feelings for the striking Scot. But Hamish, determined to obey his order to protect the St. Claire sisters, steadfastly rejects her every seducing lure.
Believing that the debutante Elizabeth deserves a better, wealthier man, Hamish continues to turn away from her affection, even though he doesn’t exactly want to. Can this Highlander Scot resist the tempting seductress’ attempts to win his heart?

Read an Excerpt!
He emerged in the kitchens and, after greeting the plump and friendly cook—and snagging a scone from the cooling tray—he followed her directions out into the garden.
Ah yes. This was what he needed. The scent of mown grass, a hint of flowers, fresh air, and sunshine. He turned his face up to the sky and soaked it in.
Granted, it was a watery sunlight, and it struggled to shine through the haze of coal dust, but it beat the hell out of a musty carriage. He strolled along the path, studying the immaculately trimmed hedges, perfectly arranged rosebushes, and the affected pond in the center of the garden.
Everything was prim, proper, and utterly controlled. How British.
He missed the wild heathers of the Highlands, the raw scraggly trees that clung to the cliffs of the coast, the cold breeze gusting from the sea.
While he had been honored that Lachlan had entrusted him with this mission—for it clearly was important to the duke to support this family he had not known he had until recently—Hamish hated being away from home.
He had a business to run and had been in the process of seducing the lovely widow Dunn when the duke’s summons had come. But when a duke commanded one’s presence, one responded.
Ah well. The lovely widow could wait.
Hamish stilled and the little hairs on his nape prickled as he caught the trail of a tantalizing song. Like a sailor called by a siren, he followed the sound. As he rounded a corner, a whimsical gazebo came into view. There, leaning against a column, was his angel.
Her face was exquisite, delicate, and finely formed, utterly classical but for the button nose. Her hair, curly and glossy, skimmed her shoulders, and her dress pinched in at the waist, highlighting a fine form.
His breath caught as she tipped up her chin and warbled a few more notes. Then he must have made a noise, for she abruptly stopped singing and turned.
As she saw him, her cheeks turned a charming pink, and Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Doona stop,” he said before he could halt the words.
“Oh dear,” she said with a delightful laugh. “I’ve been caught out.”
“You have a lovely voice,” he said, stepping closer.
He should not step closer. He should not be alone with her, here in the garden. This he knew to the depth of his being. But, to the depth of his being, he could not resist.
Her grin was entrancing. “You are a very kind liar.”
“I’m no’ a lair.”
“Well, thank you, sir.” She gifted him with a mock curtsey.
“Do you often sing in the garden?” he asked.
“Only when I am certain no one can hear.” She turned away and stepped into the gazebo. He couldn’t help but notice the seductive swish of her skirts.
He clamped down on his lustful thoughts. She was a girl. One who was far too young to know a thing about seduction. Obviously, his imaginings were born of his own desire, and it would behoove him to remember that. He was here to see her wed. To be her protector. Not to pursue her.
She was the duke’s cousin.
Still, he followed her up the steps into the folly. She sat on a padded bench and he took a seat on the other side, far out of reach.
“Have you recovered from your journey?” she asked politely.
“Aye. A walk in the garden has helped immensely.”
“I can imagine. Traveling can be so dull.”
“Have you traveled much?”
“A bit here and there. Brighton, on holiday. York, for a house party. We went to Scotland once, but I was young.”
“Ah.” That caught his attention. “How did you like it?”
“Oh.” Her face transformed to one of rapt excitement. An expression that grabbed him by the solar plexus and tugged. “I absolutely loved it.”
“Did you?” How . . . intriguing.
“It was so beautiful and wild. The people were lovely and the food was delicious.”
“Even haggis?”
Her adorable nose curled a little. “It has its . . . charms.”
He had to laugh. Her lie was so blatant.
“I would love to go back sometime.” He appreciated the wistful note in her tone.
“I miss it already.”
“I can imagine you do.” She sighed. “It must have been difficult to put your life on hold to come here and help us.”
“The duke insisted.” He regretted his words immediately, as she flinched. “However, I’m certain we shall enjoy this adventure.”
“I do hope your time here is pleasant.” Unfortunately, she’d gone all prickly and formal, which he couldn’t help but regret.
“Thank you.”
“It must be difficult for your family to have you gone as well.” She looked away as she said this, but he caught an odd glimmer in her eye before she did.
“My family?”
She cleared her throat. “Your . . . wife? Children?”
Ah. That was it. The little minx was fishing for information. Something warm trickled though his veins, and he bit back a grin. “I doona have a wife, lass.” Why he invested the words with a low rumble, he did not know. Or perhaps he did.
Her response was immediate. A slow smile blossomed on her beautiful face. Was it possible it made her even lovelier? “No wife?”
“No’ a one.” He chuckled. Damn, if she wasn’t flirting with him. Though it was foolish, the prospect danced through him in ribbons of pleasure.
“And the baron?”
His mood plummeted. “What?”
“Does the baron have a wife?”
Aye, she was fishing for information.
On Ranald.
He shouldn’t be disappointed. He’d already acknowledged that his friend was a far better catch for her. “He is a widower.” A disgruntled offering.
“Oh, how sad.”
“He has a daughter.”
“Oh, that is even sadder. A helpless little mite without a mother?”
“Aye.” Though Catriona was hardly a helpless mite. She was more of a hellion.
“Does the baron plan to marry again?”
This was going from bad to worse. “He hasna spoken of it.”
“I was just wondering, you know, because he is very handsome.”
“And he seems very nice.”
“Aye.” There was no call for such misery, but it swamped him nonetheless.
“What a pity that Anne dislikes Scotsmen.”
Hamish blinked. “Anne?”
“They are of an age.”
Indeed, they were. He cleared his throat. “Anne . . . dislikes Scotsmen?”
“Oh yes. On account of the fact that she fell in love with one, and he broke her heart.”
He barked a laugh. “She canna blame all Scotsmen for that.”
“She can,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “And she does. Faithless philanders, all of them,” she warbled.
“That is no’ true. Scotsmen are the most devoted lovers!”
“Really?” She fluttered her lashes at him, which sent rivulets of delight and alarm through him. Her expression was far too intent. And again, not intent enough.
“I . . . ah. Aye. You’ll never find a more loyal man than a Scotsman.”
Her smile was stunning. “Well, I believe you,” she said, coming to her feet. He followed suit. “But you will need to convince Anne of that.”
He had no intention of doing any such thing.
She held out her arm and he took it as a matter of habit, and then they headed down the stairs.
He had no idea what happened next, other than the vague recollection of Elizabeth tripping on a stair, and his arms coming out to catch her.
But then, there she was. In his embrace. Staring up at him with wide doe-like eyes. Lips parted. Breath soft and sweet on his cheek.
She slipped a bit and gripped him closer, pressing her delicious body against his. His head spun. His cock rose.
She’s too young, some small voice cried from the back of his mind. She is unequal to your experience. This is wrong!
Ah, such a chorus of dissent.
He ignored them all and lowered his head.
The desire to taste her was far too strong, and try as he might to resist, he could not.
He was going to kiss Elizabeth St. Claire, and he was going to kiss her now.

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Read all the books in the Untamed Highlander Series!
Other Historicals
Dark Fancy, Book 1
Dark Duke, Book 2
Brigand, Book 3
Defiant, Book 4
Folly,  Book 5

Sunday, October 29, 2017

Bella Signorina: romance Italian style...

Inspired by music…
(A look at where the story was born)

Back in 2006 a young Italian singer by the name of Patrizio Buanne had come onto the international music scene. He was an old style singer, with a powerful and seductive voice, rich in emotion and range. He was in his mid-twenties then, and had just recorded his second album, a collection called Forever Begins Tonight. It was on this CD that a particular song caught my imagination, with the story it told and the romanticism of the tale. Bella Bella Signorina was one of the most popular songs on this CD, and remains a fan favourite. For me, the more I listened to the song, the more certain I was that I wanted to write a story. I met Patrizio after concert in April of 2007, and by then the story had come into being in my mind. I asked for, and was given permission to use a few lines from the lyrics of the song as the framework for the story I wanted.

Later in the summer, I wrote the first draft of Bella Signorina and after getting the properly signed release from the copyright holder, it was submitted to a publisher. The decision was made the “tone down” the sensuality of the story and make it a sweetheart story, so any sexual overtone were removed, leaving the romantic fantasy to play out like a song. The book held the #1 best-seller spot for over six months, but went largely unnoticed, despite good reviews. I revised the story after the contract expired, and it was released again. This time it was largely unnoticed.

So, when I finally located the file of the original story and had the chance to read this story the way it was originally written, I thought this time it could be released as it was meant to be. Eirelander was willing to give the sexy, sensual version a home at last.

Set in Rome, Bella Signorina is a sweet, romantic story of two people who meet in a trendy caffè, and through the magic of dance and music discover they have many things in common. Bianca comes to Caffè Rosati every week, and for many weeks she's been watching a special man, a handsome, charming stranger who dances, flirts, and leaves alone each week. Bianca is a woman who enjoys her freedom, and has been hurt before, so she's not anxious to fall in love again. Something about the enigmatic Stefano has captivated her heart, though, and she is drawn to him in spite of herself. When she finally gathers her courage to approach him, and ask him to dance, little does she know that her entire world is about to change.

Stefano Esposito is a man who's past relationships have not left him much in the way of ideals about women. Many have claimed to love him, none have understood him. Stefano is a rare breed in today's world of fast-paced life and love. He is a gentleman, a man who many consider a little out of step with the times. For Stefano, falling in love is the completion of a soul, not the consummation of a sexual itch. He wants the woman in his life to respect, understand, and adore him, as he will her. When he meets Bianca, he wonders if he's finally found the one he's waited a lifetime for? She understands his internal conflicts, his desires, and his dreams, after only hours together.
When their attraction to each other flares too quickly and too intently, Stefano pulls back. Confused and uncertain, Bianca flees his beautiful home and business, and goes back to her busy life. But, once the dance has begun, is there a way to go back to what you knew before, or is it just a matter of time before the music lures you back to your dreams and, perhaps, makes them reality?

Exclusive excerpt:

            Stefano kept a close eye on the pretty dancer even as he walked to the small caffè. She was lovely, and he’d seen her many times, always enchanted by her presence, but never inclined to find out if the outward beauty was all there was to her. If she was another vain and brainless girl, he didn’t want his illusion shattered. The romanticism of the thought made him smile. He wasn’t as jaded as he pretended to be if he was still protecting his heart with illusions.
            Less than fifteen minutes after he’d left her, he rejoined her and handed her a steaming cup of coffee.
            “It’s so different here at night,” Bianca noted, her eyes scanning the area. In a matter of hours, thousands of people would begin their daily movements, passing over the steps, not noticing anything but the need to be wherever they were headed. “There’s peace here now.”
            “Is that why you dance, to find peace?”
            She sipped her coffee and considered an answer. When it came, it surprised him.
            “The music is freedom, and the motion is passion. Sometimes the only passion that matters.”
            “All passion matters, bella,” he commented. “It’s what gives us life.”
            “Or burns it out of us.”
            He turned on the steps, faced her fully. Then he touched her chin and made her look at him.
            “Who abused your love so fully that you can believe that?”
            “People destroy each other for love,” she replied after a lengthy pause.
            Stefano shook his head. “Love is the only gift there is worth having, Signorina. It’s what men live and die for.”
            “Who are you, Signor?”
            He was startled again, twice in less than five minutes.
            “Would you like to walk?”
            She laughed in the growing darkness, and Stefano felt it ripple the length of his spine, as though cool, flawless silk had glided over him.
            “Where are we to go, Stefano?”
            “I think you’ll like the place,” he observed, with a hint of irony texturing the subtle undertone of his voice.
            She eyed him for a few timeless moments, then nodded and rose.
            He smiled when she offered her hand, and he curled his fingers around hers in a loose, but firm grip.
            “So, is there a wife hidden somewhere?”
            He laughed. “No. What about you? A husband who will come looking for me before dawn?”
            She shook her head and sipped her coffee. “How does a man with so much passion not have the woman of his dreams in his arms every night?”
            “I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out. “Why are you alone?”
            Her laughter washed over him again and she stopped walking to look up at him. “No one I’ve met has inspired the things I need to feel.” She shrugged. "I've been too honest with too many, and it scares them away."
            For a moment he said nothing, weighing her surprising confession. “What do you need?”
            “To be respected for who I am, what makes me unique.” She tilted her head to one side and held his level gaze. “I need to be given all the things I’m expected to provide, and that seems to be something quite beyond many men. Real men, who understand the value of a smart woman, also see that her beauty is in her wisdom, and her spirit.”
            “And her ability to be all things without effort, because she is all things naturally,” he concluded, genuinely pleased at the startled flicker of surprise his words lit in her eyes. “We’re here,” he announced, indicating the building they’d reached.
            She looked up, and her smile was radiant in the soft glow of the nearby streetlight. “La Galleria d'arte di Idillio,” she murmured. “I love this place.”
            “It’s mine,” he told her as he dug out the key that would unlock the doors to the small gallery.
            There was enough real shock in her voice to make him stop as he held the door for her to go inside. “Why does that surprise you so much?”
            “I’ve come here a number of times, and I’ve never seen you,” she replied, once he’d locked the doors and turned on the lights.
            “I’ve never seen you,” he noted. “Except at the caffè.”
            “I’ve always felt this place was a tribute to love, and romance.”
            “It is. My father began the collection for my mother.”
            “Your father was a romantic?”
            “My father was a gentleman, in the truest sense of that word,” Stefano said with a familiar sense of loneliness and pride combined. “He lived la dolce vita,” he smiled, “with the passion of a man who loved all life had to offer him, good and bad.”
            “He’s gone?”
            A curt nod was all he could offer without revealing how deeply the loss still affected him. He set his coffee on the reception desk, hung his jacket on a rack then did the same with Bianca’s things. Then he took her arm and led her to a small area that had been his work for the past year.
            “This is my latest addition to the collection.”
            Bianca wandered the area, studying the beautiful collection of photographs. Each one was in a different area of Italy, and the women smiling and lovely, but each one as unique as her surroundings.
            “What do you see?”
            “Beauty. Romance.” Bianca stared at the photographs for a few moments longer, considering them with serious thought, then turned to face him. “In every photograph, they are not looking at you, but at the camera. They’re seeing the opportunity, but not your reason for wanting them.”
            Something fluttered against Stefano’s chest from the inside, an excitement he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He let his gaze drift, cataloguing the woman in front of him. Standing next to him the top her head was at his chin. She had long, waving hair, dark brown with a distinct tint that caught the glow from the lights and turned her thick mane into a mass of warm, burnished auburn. She had eyes that resembled Chinese jade, and a wide, full mouth that curved upward, as though a secret hid behind her smile. She was curvaceous and feminine, effortlessly graceful, and with minimal makeup, appeared very much without artifice of any kind.
            “What is my reason for wanting them?” He forced his tone to calm and curious, sincerely interested in her reply, but also caught in the spell she was exerting. Part of his mind was still watching her, measuring the emotion and internal workings of her mind as she analyzed his photographs with real interest. Her teal-colored dress was simple in design, flared skirt unevenly cut at the hem, swirling around her shapely legs as she walked, pausing often to peer intently at the images on the walls. The upper half of the dress clung to luscious contours, and the silver crucifix, her only jewelry, drew his eyes to the shadow between her breasts. He wanted very much to touch her, and instead stuffed his hands into his pockets and went to join her as she stopped at one of the last photos, then looked at him over her shoulder.
            “She loved you.”
            “So she said.”
            “You didn’t love her?”
            “Not the way she thought I should.”
            “You wanted love from every woman here, yet not one of them saw who you really are,” she observed softly, sadness evident in her tone.
            His eyebrow rose. “Who do you think I am, bella?”
            “How honest do you think I should be?”
            “I admire honesty, Signorina,” he told her. “I respect the courage it takes to offer it to anyone.”
            “But do you respect it if the object of discussion is you?”
            “Now you’re beginning to worry me,” he teased with a smile. He was fascinated by her intelligence and her insight. She looked past his appearance and his presence to probe his secrets, and whatever she was seeing made her even more alluring to him.
Want to know more? The dance is only beginning for Bianca and Stefano, drop by Eirelander Publishing and indulge the fantasy more…

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Saturday, October 28, 2017

Happy almost Halloween by Janice Seagraves

Happy almost Halloween!

My gloves and stuff for fall
Don't you just love the cooler temperatures? 

I actually wore a sweater this morning.

Next week we'll be handing out candy. 

Our cat Freya

Our old haunted house

At our old country home were we used to live, we didn't get trick-or-treaters except for one time a father brought his little girls to our door. His daughters had spotted our house with the light still on and begged their daddy to take them to the big scary haunted house. We had candy. I always buy it even if we didn't get trick-or-treaters. Hubby gave each little girl half the bowl. (grin)

When we first moved to our current house here in town, the neighbors across the street warned us that we'd have a deluge of trick-or-treaters coming to our door. And boy were they right. We ended up giving away all nine bags of candy. I've never seen anything like it. And it was quite a shock going from only two trick-or-treaters in twenty-five years to what felt like hundreds.

This from Wikipedia

Trick-or-treating is a Halloween custom for children in many countries. Children in costumes travel from house-to-house, asking for treats with the phrase "Trick or treat". The "treat" is usually some form of candy, although, in some cultures, money is used instead. The "trick" is a usually idle threat to perform mischief on the homeowners or their property if no treat is given. Trick-or-treating usually occurs on the evening of October 31. Some homeowners signal that they are willing to hand out treats by putting up Halloween decorations outside their doors; others simply leave treats available on their porches for the children to take freely.
In North America, trick-or-treating has been a Halloween tradition since the late 1920s. In Britain and Ireland the tradition of going house-to-house collecting food at Halloween goes back at least as far as the 16th century, as had the tradition of people wearing costumes at Halloween. In 19th century Britain and Ireland, there are many accounts of people going house-to-house in costume at Halloween, reciting verses in exchange for food, and sometimes warning of misfortune if they were not welcomed.[1] The Scottish Halloween custom of "guising" – children disguised in costume going from house to house for food or money – is first recorded in North America in 1911 in Ontario, Canada.[2] While going house-to-house in costume has remained popular among Scots and Irish, the custom of saying "trick or treat" has only recently become common. The activity is prevalent in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, the Republic of Ireland, Puerto Rico, and northwestern and central Mexico. In the latter, this practice is called calaverita (Spanish for "sugar skull"), and instead of "trick or treat", the children ask ¿me da mi calaverita? ("can you give me my sugar skull?") where a calaverita is a small skull made of sugar or chocolate.


Can I ask a huge favor? I'm doing a blog hop and need some comments on my blog:


Year of the Cat

(with a hot Scot)

Blurb: Haunted by the loss of his parents, Jared Catterick earns his keep working for the Catclaw Clan. But, once he finds out the truth he runs to his one true mate, Morgan, who he had met while she was on holiday.
When his past and present collide, it’s worse than he imagined and he’s forced to fight for his life.
heart knot
Auntie walked into the middle of the hollow. “We the Catcall Clan are gathered here together to witness a challenge. Called by Munch son of Tiger, who challenges Jared Catterick son of nobody.”
“I am the son of somebody,” Jared yelled. The sudden flow of anger had his heart pounding hard against his ribs.
“Who? What are their names?” Auntie crossed her arm and leaned on one hip and tapped a toe.
“I donna remember. I was too young when they killed them and took me away,” Jared muttered. “And she knows that.”
“Is Catterick your real last name?” Killer asked him in the canine speech.
“Aye. I donna remember much about me old life, but I never forgot me name.”
“Just tell her Mr. and Mrs. Catterick,” Killer said.
“Me parents were Mr. and Mrs. Catterick,” Jared said in a loud clear voice.
A few people around the hollow snickered.
Auntie gave a quick nod. “Jared son of Mr. and Mrs. Catterick. Munch challenges you for the death of his da, Tiger.”
Munch marched to Auntie’s side. He was every bit as big as his father. Well-muscled and not just tall but wide. Where Tiger’s hair was gray and white, Munch was blond and black. Another man accompanied him, his second, a tall, lanky male named Boyd. Jared knew him well, even though he was younger.
“Och. Here we go,” Jared told Killer and walked out into the middle of the hollow.
“He’s big,” Killer said in the canine speech.
“And ugly. I wouldna want to ride him into battle.”
Killer stayed at his side. “Psst.”
“You can fight, right?” Killer asked.
“Good to know.”
Auntie looked at both males. “Jared, as the challenged, you may decide on weapons and forms.”
“Human and no weapons,” Jared said.
“Very well,” Auntie said. “You may use your feet, hands, elbows and knees. Even your head if you feel the need.”
“What aboot sticks and stones?” Munch asked, his voice youthful.
“Will break my bones,” Jared said under his breath.
Killer snickered.
“No weapons,” Auntie shook a finger at Munch. “That includes sticks and stones.”
“Well,” Munch crossed his arms, “since I canna change into cat form, I think I should be able to use whatever I find in the hollow.”
“This isn’t a free-for-all, Munch. There is discipline to a challenge. You must remain in your human form and fight like a human. With this match, we’ll have a square go.”
“Not very cat-like.” Munch sniffed.
Auntie fisted her hands and leaned toward Munch. “You’re not a cat. You are a shifter. You shift between three forms. Now stay with one for the duration of the fight.”
“Doesn’t he understand?” Killer asked.
“A bit daft that one,” Jared muttered back. Munch doesn’t seem have a lot of self-control. Unlike Tiger who would have done exactly what Auntie said to the letter.
“Seconds, to the side.” Auntie pointed. “You may view the fight only. Do not interfere unless your partner is hurt or someone breaks the rules.”
Both Boyd and Killer trotted to edge of the clearing.
Jared stood facing Munch. Several feet separated them. Jared shook out his arms, moved his head from side to side, and loosened his muscles.
Auntie raised her hand and did a karate chop between them. “Now fight.”
“I swear on me da’s grave, I will end you!” Munch roared and the skin on his face boiled. His hands burst out of his gloves and feet from his boots. The shift made Munch bigger, tearing his clothes. He stopped in the in-between state, like movie werewolves of old, but in this case half-cat and half-human. The only thing that remained of his clothes was his black overall snow pants and even that stretched taunt across him. Extending his claws, he snarled and reached for Jared. “I want to see you bleedin’.”

Find Year of the Cat on Amazon:

Friday, October 27, 2017

Join the Frightful and Delightful #SPOOKTACULAR Blog Hop #RB4U

Did I scare you?

It's time for the Frightful & Delightful Spooktacular Blog Hop!

Join me and the authors listed below to win a Kindle Fire 7 with Alexa!


Visit each author blog in the hop and look for their unique clue.
Each author will have their own unique clue so you do have to stop by each blog in order to solve the puzzle. 

It will be a black square like this:

Each blog in this hop is numbered. In order to solve the puzzle, I recommend you visit them in order.

After visiting all of the blogs below, submit your answer here:

This sweet through hot collection of love stories includes contemporary, period, and historical romance, otherworldly romance, and romance with a touch of magic by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors: 

Beltane Lion by Cindy Spencer Pape 
Operation Man Hunt by Marianne Stephens 
Desire’s Dilemma by Jean Hart Stewart 
Werecat Love by Janice Seagraves 
Riviera Rendezvous by Gemma Juliana
Something Moor by Denyse Bridger 
I’ll Be Seeing You by Paris Brandon
Capri Nights by Cara Marsi

With the summer months slipping by, the temperature will still stay hot when you read this heart stopping collection of passion and seduction. Brought to you by the authors of Romance Books 4 Us, and written by today’s hottest bestselling authors, there is a little bit of something for everyone in each story. So run, don’t walk, to your nearest online eBook retailer and one-click this compilation of sexy reads which will pull you into… summer nights of delight.

★ Featured Authors ★
Marianne Stephens
Tina Donahue 
Nicole Morgan
Cindy Spencer Pape 
Janice Seagraves
Jean Hart Stewart
Paris Brandon 
Denyse Bridger
Krista Ames


  1. Nicole Morgan -
  2. Katalina Leon -
  3. Janice Seagraves -
  4. Suzanne Jenkins -
  5. Jo Grafford -
  6. Lisa Chalmers -
  7. Louisa Masters -
  8. Krista Ames -
  9. Tina Donahue -
  10. Sensuous Promos -
  11. The Book Pub -
  12. Romance Books 4 Us -




Thursday, October 26, 2017

Newbie In The House ~ #LynnCrain #RomanceBooks4Us #AmWriting

Good morning everyone! Sorry I’m late but I’m new here and still trying to get the hang of things as it’s been a while since I’ve consistently posted to a blog. But that’s another story.

I’m Lynn Crain and some of you may know me while others not so much. I’ve been in the writing and publishing business for positively years, so I guess that makes me ancient in some circles. I write a variety of stories with most of them being in the romance genre. For me, being a writer means I write the story I’m passionate about. Some days that may be a science fiction story with just a hint of a relationship whereas on other days, I just want to write straight romance.

I live in the Land of Enchantment and just love it here. Then again, I loved all the places I’ve lived and that includes Vienna, Austria, which I thoroughly miss this time of year. Vienna has a wonderful, wonderful holiday season. Here in New Mexico, the weather is cooling and the trees are in full color that just beg us to go on those wonderful Sunday drives. On any given day, I might see a deer or two in my yard or a bear walking down the street. We’ve been told that there’s a bobcat around as well. Can’t say we’ve seen those yet. I can’t believe it was at the beginning of the summer that our two pups treed a bear in the yard next door.

The best thing I find about New Mexico is the diversity of people and cultures. I have used this back drop for my latest story, The Summer Cabin. It’s about a couple who were high school sweethearts that come together again after a fifteen year hiatus. The results are explosive and segway right into the next book in the series called Body at the Cliffs. You can expect that one sometime early next year.

The genre of romantic suspense is new to me but these are stories I feel passionate about as I’ll be able to use all the knowledge I’ve garnered about the Southwest for the last thirty years. This place is full of mystery and the unknown in many ways. The history is full of Spaniards and Pueblo Indians and rock paintings and ruins. It is the land of turquoise and fetishes and Kachinas and so very much more.

It is just as enchanting as the name implies.

Some of you may wonder just how I got to this fabulous place but to be honest, I’ve been trying to get here for over a quarter of a century. The first time I ever saw New Mexico was when we moved to Nevada in 1969. It was desert with a touch of red and though we didn’t see too much from the moving van’s window, even then I could tell it was something special and much different than the places in Utah and Arizona that we would later visit on family vacations.

The next time I was able to come here was with a college trip in a geology class. We visited all over the state of New Mexico from the Rio Grande river valley to the plazas in Taos and Santa Fe to the mines in Silver City and the ruins at Chaco Canyon. From the moment I stood in the plaza at Taos, I was hooked. Sure, there was a lot of other things going on but I knew that New Mexico was where I wanted to live.

One of the most fascinating places is the Navajo Nation that stretches over Arizona and New Mexico. It starts right outside the Grand Canyon and stretches across that state to Shiprock, New Mexico. Going through the vast and sun-drenched land that many see barren, you can understand why the Navaho settled there. Driving through the beauty of Monument Valley and ending at the volcanic dike at Shiprock, totally sealed my fate of have a lifelong love affair with the Southwest and New Mexico.

About three years after that trip, I married my husband and proceeded to try and convince him that we needed to move to New Mexico. We took a trip to Chaco Canyon and other places in the state and while he did see the beauty of the place, he wasn’t convinced right away. Eventually, he got a job that had opportunities in the state but he never got chosen for a position. It took a move to Europe before we’d finally land to a place we had wanted to call home for a long time.

Right now, we’re living in a house that was built in 1951 and needs some remodeling. We’re having a retaining wall put in for a sloped path so we won’t have to climb the stairs in the winter. Having the yard dug up has caused a variety of issues but at least it’s getting done.

When we first moved here, reno was going slow, then it went at a snail’s pace as my husband of over thirty years was diagnosed with colon cancer. Now that is all taken care of and he’s in full remission, we can get back to the reno work that had been put off for nearly a full year.

So life is wonderful, yet challenging, here in the land of Enchantment. And I don’t want to miss a thing.

How about you…do you love the place you live? If not, where would you truly want to live and why? I’ll be giving away a copy of my story, The Summer Cabin, to one lucky commenter by next month’s column.

Hope you all have a great month…see you next time!


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