~ Happy Valentine’s Day! ~
~ Happy Valentine’s Day! ~
“…if I wait much longer I will be too old to be accepted into an IVF program.”
“I could give you one of my kids on a rotating basis.” Sharon grinned. “You could take a different one every week. Heck, I’d even throw in Tom for a week, he’s almost as bad as the young ones.”
“I know.” Sharon sobered. “But raising a child isn’t easy, especially if you have to do it on your own. For all I rag on Tom about being a big kid, I couldn’t manage without him.”
“Lots of women do it,” Lori said stubbornly.
“True,” Sharon conceded. She took a sip of her drink and then seriously observed Lori over the rim of her cup. “Okay.” She put the cup down on the table and sat up straighter. “But if you’re determined to have a child, don’t do in vitro. Find some sexy hot stud and, at least, have the fun of doing it the old-fashioned way.”
Lori gagged on a mouthful of mochaccino, trying not to spit it out with laughter. “And where do you think I will find such a specimen?” she asked when she managed to compose herself.
Sharon shrugged. “What about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Yummy?” She pointed over Lori’s shoulder.
Lori swiveled in her chair and found herself staring at the crotch of a poster-sized Mark Wilder exiting one of his famous purple Jeeps. She quickly raised her gaze to the familiar stubbled chin and deep brown eyes, but not before she felt the crimson rush of embarrassment flood her face. He was the only man she’d met recently that looked better than his picture. Take a Trip to the Wild Side with Sedona’s Wilder Jeep Tours, the poster proclaimed.
Yessiree, if she was picking a partner on looks alone, she’d definitely take a trip to the wild side with him.
A bead of sweat rolled down Niall’s spine as every pint of blood in his body seemed to flow south and congregate in his cock. Somewhere there was a woodshed with his name on it for the lessons he’d taught Khloe that night. As much as he’d been drinking, he shouldn’t have been able to move, much less fuck. But he’d taken her like a man possessed. Over and over. On her back. Her stomach. Her side. On his back. And he recalled each and every moment as if the sheer heat of those hours had burned away memories that should’ve been fogged by alcohol. Maybe that was part of his punishment for laying a hand on Michael’s much-loved baby sister. Damned to never forget the most explosive, mind-blowing sex of his life…and doomed never to repeat it because of his friend’s last request before his death.
Yeah, God was definitely a woman.
Only a female could be that fucking diabolical.
THE BRIDE WORE STARLIGHT – On sale February 9. 2016
About the book –
Once comfortable on stage in front of thousands, Joely Crockett is now mortified at the thought of walking—or rolling—down the aisle at her sisters’ wedding. Scarred and wheelchair-bound, the former beauty queen has lost more than the ability to walk—she’s lost her fire. But when one handsome, arrogant guest accuses her of milking her injuries and ignites her ire, Joely finally starts to feel truly alive again, and soon it’s impossible for her to resist her heart’s desire.
Alec Morrissey knows a little something about loss. A famous rodeo cowboy before he was injured in Iraq, he’s managed to create something of a normal life, even if it’s not the one he always imagined. Encountering stunning but damaged Joely, he sees a kindred spirit who can learn from his mistakes.
As these two healing souls begin to fall in love under the Wyoming stars, they must discover if they are willing to give in to the tragedies of life or fight for a future together.
The contact with Alec’s strong, long-fingered hand didn’t do anything to quell the annoyance dancing in her stomach. Or was it attraction? Or just a very long time since a man had taken her hand?
He tugged gently and braced his feet so she could stand and get her solid leg beneath her.
Her eyes came level with his tie. That put him at roughly six feet, she thought inanely, although, in truth, no thoughts but inane ones filled her head. Up close his eyes shone a dark, rich amber, and his full, upturned lips made him appear prone to smiling. His hat looked so natural on him he might well have been born with it on.
He held out his right elbow. “Just think of me as a human hiking stick.”
He hadn’t said “cane.” He hadn’t said “crutch.” She offered a tentative, grateful smile, took a deep breath, and nodded.
What could have been horribly awkward turned out to be an easy partnership. Alec seemed to know instinctively how to step where she needed him for support, and his arm offered a perfect grip that she could lean into as firmly as she wanted. It took a dozen or so strides to get the coordination right, but slowly she figured out how to step firmly with her right leg and use Alec’s weight to help swing and step quickly with her left. She’d walked like this with crutches, but this felt so quasi normal—she almost enjoyed it.
They came to the stairs, and she froze. A flat path was easy. Going up stairs was awkward but doable. But going down threw her weight forward, and she didn’t have the strength or balance to keep from pitching headfirst down the flight.
“We’re doing great,” he said. “There are only six.”
“We’re doing fine,” he’d said. She didn’t know this man from any random person, and yet he knew how to speak as if they’d been doing this forever.
“I really should have a body on the other side, too,” she admitted reluctantly. “I suck at stairs.”
“Here’s the deal.” He removed her hand from his elbow and held it, then wrapped his right arm loosely around her waist. “It’s your balance that’s got you spooked. You haven’t practiced with it, but your left leg is strong enough. Trust yourself. You know the drill: bad leg—”
“First,” she finished. “Yes. But it doesn’t hold my weight.”
“Eventually it will, but for now we’ll step together, and you lean into me when you’re using that leg.”
How did he know so effortlessly what to do? He’d probably had plenty of bangs and bruises when he’d been on the rodeo circuit—maybe this was second nature for him.
They navigated the stairs like they’d been doing it for years. She’d never have made it on her own, and such an exercise had been clunky at best with a physical therapist. When she stood at the bottom without aid of a crutch or two side walkers, her satisfaction had to rival that of any successful mountain climber’s.
“Wow,” she said, unable to keep the pleasure from her voice.
“Why are you surprised? You’re a ranch girl; you’re tough.”
About the author –
Lizbeth Selvig lives in Minnesota with her best friend (aka her husband), and a gray Arabian gelding. After working as a newspaper journalist and magazine editor, and raising an equine veterinarian daughter and a talented musician son, she won RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart® Contest in 2010 with her contemporary romance The Rancher and the Rock Star. In her spare time, she loves to hike, quilt, read, horseback ride, and spend time with her new granddaughter. She also has four-legged grandchildren—more than twenty—including a wallaby, two alpacas, a donkey, a pig, a sugar glider, and many dogs, cats, and horses (pics of all appear on her website http://www.lizbethselvig.com). She loves connecting with readers—contact her any time!
Digital copies of books 1 and 2 in the Seven Brides for Seven Cowboys Series up for grabs: THE BRIDE WORE DENIM and THE BRIDE WORE RED BOOTS – go and check it out right over here: a Rafflecopter giveaway
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THIRST: BLOOD OF MY BLOOD – On sale November 26, 2015
About the book –
~ Kira Sutherland ~
After a near fatal accident (and getting cheated on by her ‘boyfriend’), and beating up the lead cheerleader (with whom the boyfriend cheated…), and being labeled as having ‘issues’ in her school because she, uhm, sees ghosts, Kira is left with two choices:
1. Continue her ‘therapy’ (where she’s told the ghost is a hallucination and also gets her legs ogled too often…)
2. Go to Starkfield Academy, a boarding school for “Crazies and Convicts” (as the social media sites call them.)
She chooses the latter…
~ Cory Rand ~
Cory Rand has not had an easy life. His mother died in a car accident when he was twelve, and so did his mother’s best friend…sort of. You see, Janice made a promise to take care of Cory just before she died, and so she lingers. Undead. A ghost that watches out for him.
Brought up in an abusive home, Cory quickly falls into a life of disreputable behavior. After his third offense (which was prompted by a girl, as usual – he has a weakness) he’s left with two choices:
1. Be tried as an adult and share a cell with a guy named Bubba (he thinks…)
2. Go to Starkfield Academy, which Cory is pretty sure is run by vampires. But, hey, at least he’ll get an education.
He chooses the latter…
It’s at Starkfield that Kira meets Cory Rand, a boy with an insatiable Rage who sees ghosts, too. As well as other things, other things from his past, things that confuse him, things like fire and witches and demons.
Things he’s always ignored.
The Puppy Eyes
My life was perfect.
I had the perfect shoes and the perfect friends and I lived in the perfect house. My nails were perfect and my hair was perfect (except on Sundays, it was always windy on Sundays) and I had the perfect clothes. My lips were a perfect red and my hair perfectly straight. My eyeshadow was perfect, my hips were…okay, and my waist…well…also okay. Nothing was wrong in my life.
But then there was Jack.
Jack was a problem.
He needed to go. I mean, when you’re dead, you’re dead! I had told him this endlessly. Somehow, Jack didn’t get it. I mean, I felt sorry for the guy. Sure. Being stuck between this life and the next. But just because I found him, does that mean I needed to keep him?
I think not!
Sadly, when Jack got that look in his eyes, that weary, almost teary (if his tear-ducts worked) look, I melted. I just couldn’t send him away. Not even Jack knew where he would go after he died.
Would he, like, die? As in — dead, nada, kaput, finito, gone, no more? Bye bye, sayonara, ciao, hasta la vista baby and all that?
I couldn’t have that on my conscience. No way.
I lay on my bed, wondering what to do about him. “Jaaaaaaack,” I hollered.
Still no answer.
His eyes rolled down to the ground. He was making those puppy eyes again. “Jack, I told you not to do that. I told you not to play on my sympathies.”
His puppy eyes became worse.
His skin was gray and, well, dead.
“Oh, brother,” I said. “I have to do something about you. If mom finds out I have another ‘imaginary friend’ — at my age — well, I’d die of embarrassment. But, like, really die. Not like you.” I wondered about this. Would I die? Was Jack a freak accident, or did all people live on like him? Think of the cemeteries…
The idea excited me somewhat.
“What would you have me do, Miss Kira?”
“Knock off the Miss Kira crap. I told you it’s just Kira.”
“Yes, Miss Kira.”
The dead. There’s just no reasoning.
“Fine, Miss Kira it is then.” Rover barked like a lunatic in the garden. No one else might be able to see Jack, but I was sure my dog could.
“I have to do something about this,” I mumbled.
About the author –
R P Channing started writing three years ago, but never published anything even after churning out over a million words of fiction. Thirst: Blood of my Blood is the first book he dared to publish. When asked why, he said, “Because it’s the first thing I wrote that my wife actually enjoyed reading.” When not hammering away (most literally) at his keyboard, he can be found buried in a book, reading anything from romance to horror to young adult to non-fiction to comedy.
At the back of the book there is a giveaway link. Once the book hits fifty reviews on Amazon, one of those reviewers will win a $20 (US Dollars) Amazon Gift Voucher!