Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Friend of the Devil by Mark Spivak (VBT, guest post and GIVEAWAY) GFT

It is my pleasure to share a guest post by author Mark Spivak, who shares a little of his writing life.

MS:  I go to sleep early and wake up naturally around 4 or 4:30 a.m. In my youth I spent a number of years in the restaurant business, at which time the pattern was reversed---back then, I’d probably be going to bed around 4 a.m. The current schedule works really well for me, since I find the early morning hours are the best time to work. My wife is still asleep, and there are no distractions. I still do a fair amount of journalism, so around 9 a.m. the email starts and generally doesn’t stop.

Basically, I’m working on and off from the time I get up until around 5 p.m., although the workday isn’t consecutive. I have the luxury of taking breaks, whether they’re for meals, shopping or working out, but I’m mentally focused on my current project(s) during that period. To tell the truth, I’m mentally focused on my current project(s) for all my waking hours, whether I’m actually working on them or not.

When a writer is working other jobs and struggling to become 100% freelance, he/she usually fantasizes about what the life would be like. Ironically, it turns out to be not very different from a regular job at all: at some point you have to get to your desk and stay there for 6-8 hours each day, even if the work sessions are intermittent. The key difference, of course, is that you’re doing what you really want to do and love to do.

It turns out that the parts of the day when you’re not actually working are frequently the most useful and productive. Daydreaming is a key part of being a writer. I find that thinking about my current plot and characters right before I go to sleep is an important part of the process.

We don’t have a land line at home, and I no longer own a smart phone. I pay no attention to my cell phone at all---the ringer is permanently off, and I might check it once or twice a day to see if anyone has called. I don’t send or receive text messages. I believe that it’s crucial to carve out a mental space that exists solely for the incubation of your plot, characters and fantasies. It’s hard to do that if you’re staring at a phone all day long, and if you work on a computer, as I do, you’ll have more than enough temptations and distractions.


by Mark Spivak


GENRE: Thriller (Culinary)



In 1990 some critics believe that America’s most celebrated chef, Joseph Soderini di Avenzano, cut a deal with the Devil to achieve fame and fortune. Whether he is actually Bocuse or Beelzebub, Avenzano is approaching the 25th anniversary of his glittering Palm Beach restaurant, Chateau de la Mer, patterned after the Michelin-starred palaces of Europe.

Journalist David Fox arrives in Palm Beach to interview the chef for a story on the restaurant’s silver jubilee. He quickly becomes involved with Chateau de la Mer’s hostess, unwittingly transforming himself into a romantic rival of Avenzano. The chef invites Fox to winter in Florida and write his authorized biography. David gradually becomes sucked into the restaurant’s vortex: shipments of cocaine coming up from the Caribbean; the Mafia connections and unexplained murder of the chef’s original partner; the chef’s ravenous ex-wives, swirling in the background like a hidden coven. As his lover plots the demise of the chef, Fox tries to sort out hallucination and reality while Avenzano treats him like a feline’s catnip-stuffed toy.



He perused Chateau de la Mer’s large and mostly incomprehensible menu. Changed every few weeks, handwritten in Avenzano’s elaborate cursive before being photocopied, it closely resembled an annotated Medieval manuscript. Finally, he acceded to the staff’s offer to prepare a tasting menu for him, accompanied by the appropriate wines.

He was presented with a sculpture of dried vegetables in the shape of a bird’s nest, filled with a combination of wild mushrooms and chopped truffles, bathed in an intensely reduced demi-glaze. The carrots, zucchini and peppers had been cut into paper-thin strips, intertwined and allowed to dry, yet retained a surprising intensity of flavor.

He consumed a dish of tomato, basil and egg noodles, bathed in a light cream sauce, perfumed with fresh sage and studded with veal sweetbreads.

He ate an astonishing dish of butter-poached lobster, remarkably sweet and perfectly underdone, flavored with sweet English peas and garnished with a ring of authentic Genoese pesto.

He was served a slice of Avenzano’s signature Bedouin-stuffed poussin---a turkey stuffed with a goose, in turn stuffed with a duckling, in turn stuffed with a poussin, or baby chicken, with a core of truffled foie gras at its center, covered with an Etruscan sauce of chopped capers, raisins and pine nuts. This dish had been the source of much controversy over the years, since it bore a close resemblance to a Louisiana terducken. It predated the terducken, however, and was supposedly inspired by a creation first served to the French royal court. For good measure, Avenzano had added influences from the cuisine of the Middle East.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Mark Spivak is an award-winning writer specializing in wine, spirits, food, restaurants and culinary travel. He was the wine writer for the Palm Beach Post from 1994-1999, and was honored by the Academy of Wine Communications for excellence in wine coverage “in a graceful and approachable style.” Since 2001 has been the Wine and Spirits Editor for the Palm Beach Media Group; his running commentary on the world of food, wine and spirits is available at the Global Gourmet blog on www.palmbeachillustrated.com. He is the holder of the Certificate and Advanced diplomas from the Court of Master Sommeliers.

Mark’s work has appeared in National Geographic Traveler, Robb Report, Men’s Journal, Art & Antiques, the Continental and Ritz-Carlton magazines, Arizona Highways and Newsmax. He is the author of Iconic Spirits: An Intoxicating History (Lyons Press, 2012) and Moonshine Nation: The Art of Creating Cornbread in a Bottle (Lyons Press, 2014). His first novel, Friend of the Devil, is published by Black Opal Books.



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Monday, May 30, 2016

Less Than Human by Allen Long (VNBtM, excerpt and GIVEAWAY) GFT

To those who celebrate, Happy Memorial Day.  Honor those who have and/or are serving.

Today I have the pleasure of a guest post from author Allen Long, who answers the question...

ELF: What do you think is the strongest attraction about the genre(s) you like to write in?

AL:  My most natural genre is memoir.  For one thing, I think in this jaded age, a lot of readers crave authenticity.  In a memoir, the writer can say, “Here’s the story of my life, and here’s what I think it means, or here are the lessons I’ve learned from it.”  Then the reader can make up his/her own mind about the material. 

When I wrote Less than Human: A Memoir, I made it a point to show my true self, warts and all.  You don’t want to present an ideal self to the reader because that ruins the integrity of your book, and the reader’s not going to believe you’re telling the truth.  And you want to tell nothing but the truth, because that’s the only way you’ll be able to make valuable discoveries about your life and provide your book with its primary value.

My book is about how I overcame parental child abuse, PTSD, and a nightmarish marriage to finally find true love with my second wife Elizabeth to whom I’ve now been married for twenty years. 

Instead of whining about the child abuse and making bitter and hateful comments about my parents, I set out to discover why the child abuse happened. 

First I analyzed my father.  My father was an only child for nine years before his younger brother came along, and my father has always acted like a self-centered spoiled brat, a fact my mother is quick to confirm.  So my father has a spoiled brat personality, which is probably why he hates children—he doesn’t want to compete with them for attention, and he doesn’t want them impinging on his spoiled brat universe.  Add to this that my father’s mother was mentally ill and abused my father as a child, and it’s pretty easy to see how all of these elements could explain my father as a child abuser.

But when I tried to perform a similar analysis on my mother, I discovered very few clues and had to admit that my mom’s participation in the child abuse will forever be a mystery to me.

Another thing I discovered while writing the book is that, since my childhood environment felt life-threatening, I didn’t learn to comfort myself as a child, causing anxiety attacks that lasted into adulthood and once landed me in the psych ward of a hospital for five days.  I have anxious depression, as do my mother and brother, but psychologists have told me my condition was greatly exacerbated by the child abuse.

In addition, since I didn’t feel truly loved as a child, I had a strong urge to find genuine love with a girl my age during my teen years.  My book contains two chapters about my teenage love life.  I fell in love with the first girl I slow-danced with at a party, and I married the first girl I dated in college because I felt love-starved.

My first marriage was a nightmare because my wife verbally abused and cheated on me.  And I put up with it for fifteen years because I came from an abusive background, and abusive relationships were virtually all I knew.

I could go on, but my point is that a completely truthful memoir allows both the writer and reader to make exciting discoveries about the meaning of the writer’s life.  If executed artfully, a memoir like this will be therapeutic and enlightening for the writer while fascinating to the reader.


Less Than Human
by Allen Long


GENRE: Memoir



In Less than Human, Allen Long tells the story of his often nightmarish childhood in the wealthy suburbs of D.C., the wonders and mysteries of teenage love, his ill-advised journeys into corporate America and a hellish marriage, and ultimate breakdown.  And yet, his story is mostly one of triumph.  He draws strength from the joys of fatherhood, he finds true love in his second marriage, and through working with psychotherapists and leading a life rich in self-examination, he overcomes both child abuse and the resulting PTSD, finally learning that instead of being less than, he is, indeed, human.

Less than Human follows an unconventional path, arranged as much by theme and association as by chronology.  These stories take many forms, from driving narrative to lyrical reverie, at times evoking mythic overtones, and this variety, along with an unflinching confrontation with the conditions and consequences of childhood abuse, create its own form of suspense--in what direction will this book take us next?



While the zookeeper threw apples into the makeshift pool and coaxed the elephants to swim to retrieve them, he recited a long string of facts.  These awe-inspiring creatures have 150,000 muscles in their trunks and they can use this appendage to suck up to 15 quarts of water at a time, which they then squirt into their mouths.  Also, he said, elephants can hear with their ears, trunks, and feet.  In addition, these captivating mammals are believed to have the same level of intelligence as dolphins and non-human primates and they can feel grief, make music, show compassion and kindness, mother one another’s infants, play, use tools, and recognize themselves in mirrors. 

When some of the elephants exited the pool, they used their trunks to throw dirt on their backs.

“Dad, what are they doing?” Ben asked.

“Putting on sunscreen,” I said.
The boys giggled.

The zookeeper continued to lecture, but we tuned him out and focused solely on the elephants as the great gray wrinkly creatures with the small dark eyes and long eyelashes and formidable, floppy ears shaped like the African continent bobbed and swayed in the hot July afternoon.  Perhaps the boys’ minds wandered briefly to Babar, one of their favorite books about an anthropomorphized elephant, just as mine may have flashed briefly upon the proverbial elephant in the room at home, but our thoughts quickly returned to the magnificent elephants and our simple but immense male joy.

Sales links:

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Allen Long was born in New York City and grew up in Arlington, Virginia.  He holds a B.A. in journalism from Virginia Tech, an M.A. in fiction writing from Hollins University, and an M.F.A. in fiction writing from the University of Arizona.  He has been an assistant editor at Narrative Magazine since 2007, and his fiction and memoirs have appeared in a wide variety of literary magazines.  He lives with his wife near San Francisco.



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Sunday, May 29, 2016

Lana and the Laird by Sabrina York (spotlight, excerpt, and GIVEAWAY)

Sabrina York's steamy Highland romp, LANA AND THE LAIRD, is releasing on Tuesday! 

Lachlan Sinclair cannot escape his accursed heritage in his Highlands homeland. Somewhat resigned to the fate that destroyed his ancestors, he is prepared to live his life without an heir, without a wife―without love. But when he meets the woman of his dreams in the flesh, the bewitching lass makes him want to throw away his cursed, restrained existence…and unleash the highlander within…
Lana Dounreay has only seen the Duke of Caithness in her dreams as a wild, rugged man, while in reality, his life has been cramped by curses and cravats. He may have forgone his kilt and lost his brogue, but Lana knows that the heart of a true Scotsman beats within his broad, muscular chest. But what plans does the mysterious, passionate Lachlan have in mind for her―and can she convince him that love is stronger than all else?
“You can’t go wrong with a Sabrina York story.”―Desiree Holt

4 Stars from RT Magazine
A sweet, romantic and often funny tale as Lachlan and Lanatry to hide their trysts, while shadowy enemies draw nearer. Plus,kilts!--RTR Online Review
A wonderful and witty story and a must read for fans ofthe series. Top Pick--Night Owl Reviews 

Memorable romance and engaging characters. Otherworldly and electric.--Publisher's Weekly

Lachlan threw back his covers and set his feet on the floor. He had to wait until he stopped shaking to stand, and even then his legs were limp. When he could, he stumbled to the wardrobe and found a pair of breeches and a simple shirt. After a fright like this, he needed to walk, to clear his mind, his soul, of the terror.

He didn’t wake Dougal. He never did. It was unfair to ask his cousin to bear the onus of his curse. Lachlan made his way through the deserted halls of Lochlannach Castle, down the grand staircase, and headed for the terrace that overlooked the crashing sea below. 

There was a moon tonight. The view of Dunnet Bay would calm his soul. And if it did not, there was always the option of stepping over the edge and into oblivion.

But as he emerged into the cool velvet night, it wasn’t oblivion that awaited him.

It was Lana Dounreay.

She sat on the seawall staring out at his coveted view, dressed in a diaphanous froth that had to be her nightdress. Her hair, turned silver by the night, hung down over her shoulders, glimmering in the moonlight.

His heart pattered, but for a very different reason.

She was so lovely, so serene, it made his breath catch.

He came to stand beside her without a word, tucking his hands in his pockets and staring at the sea. She glanced up at him, but without surprise, as though she had expected him. Together they gazed out at the dark ripples of the water, the shards of light dancing over the surface of the blackness.

A gentle breeze wafted by, bringing with it her scent. It made him dizzy.

Ah, how he wished . . .

He wished he were another man. A man not cursed. A man not haunted. A man not doomed to an early death.

A man who could have kissed her once.

How magnificent would that have been?

He must have sighed because she put her hand on his arm. It was warm. Soft. Alluring.

“Can you no’ sleep?” she asked in a soothing timbre.

He glanced at her and his gaze was snared. Her eyes were so wide, so blue, so deep. He wanted to drown in them. “No. I . . . had a visitor.”

Her brow rumpled. “A visitor?”

“Yes.” He turned back to the sea. Though he was loath to discuss this with anyone, lest they think him mad, he knew she would understand. “My father.”

“Ah. I see. Does he visit you often?”

Lachlan snorted a laugh but it was really not one. “Too often.”

Lana tipped her head to the side. “You . . . doona enjoy his visits?”

“I do not. They are . . . terrifying.”

Why this puzzled her was a mystery. Ghosts were terrifying.

“Can you describe the visit?”

Something in her tone caught his attention. He sat beside her on the wall, listening to the waves crash below. It took a while for him to collect his thoughts, but she waited. “He is always dour. Pained. There is wailing and—”


“Yes. But it is the chains that are the most perturbing.”

Lana blinked. “Chains?”

“Yes. He’s draped in them. Bound by them. It is his eternal torment. Because of the curse.”

“How odd. None of the ghosts I know wear chains.”

“They are probably not cursed.”

“Probably not.” Her lips quirked as she murmured, “As there are no such things as curses.”

His heart lurched. Would that that were true. He studied her face. Beautiful as it was, that hint of amusement pricked at him. “Do you find this funny?”

“Nae. No’ a bit of it.” She patted his hand. Her heat lingered. “’Tis just . . . odd.”

“What is odd?” Was he really asking? This whole conversation was odd.

“Odd that your ghost wears chains. Chains are verra . . . of this earth, after all.”

“He’s being punished. They are probably metaphorical.”

“Most likely.”

As they turned back to the vista before them, Lachlan reflected that this was, indeed, a surreal conversation to be having. But then, with someone like Lana, it made sense.

“Your mother doesna wear chains.”

His belly roiled at the thought. “I am . . . gratified to hear it.”

“She seems quite at peace.”

“Good to know.”

“Except that she worries about you.”

“Will you tell her I’m fine?”

“I canna.”

He gaped at her.

She lifted a shoulder. “I willna lie to her. Besides, she knows you’re no’ a happy man.”

A happy man? Was there such a thing?

“I am a cursed man.”


“I am.” He didn’t know why he smiled. His lips just wanted to move that way.

What was it about this woman, this sprite, that made the shadows waft away? Made all his dark ruminations evaporate like mists in the sunlight? Made him smile after the horrific encounter he’d just had?
Ah, but it didn’t seem so horrific. Not now. Not with her by his side.
Lana shot him a glance that warmed his heart. “She thought you looked verra fine tonight at dinner.”

“Ah. The kilt.”

“Aye.” Her lashes fluttered. “I thought you looked verra fine as well.”

Now, that stirred something in him. Something illicit and naughty. 

“Did you?”


“Was I manly?” He was teasing, perhaps, but when she flicked a glance at him, with that expression—one of hunger and admiration and . . . heat—all his playfulness withered, scorched by the blazing flare of his lust.

There was something about the cloak of night, the refreshing scent of the sea, the fragrance of her perfume, the way her hair riffled in the breeze. Or maybe it was his churning need to wipe the memory of his father’s visit from his mind, or the suddenly clawing desire to be a man he could never be . . . but Lachlan had to kiss her. 

Everything in him ached for it.

And so he did.

Though it was foolish and injudicious and wildly inappropriate of him, he did.

Amazon link

About the author:

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.

Get exclusive reads, enter subscriber only contests and be the first to know about coming books!

Untamed Highlanders Series

Want More Highlanders by Sabrina York?
Luscious—Seven Nights of Sin Collection
Call of the Wild Wind—Ever My Love Collection (Sequel to Tarnished Honor)

More Historicals Coming Soon From Sabrina York
Folly,  Book 1
Dark Fancy, Book 2
Dark Duke, Book 3



Check out this awesome historical romance, and enter to win a tiara here:



Saturday, May 28, 2016

Contests and giveaways

I'm perpetually behind these past few weeks...but I have discovered that there are lots of great blog hops taking place!  If you are in the U.S., I wish you a wonderful holiday weekend.  Don't forget to thank those who are serving or have served...and support them by buying their books or sending letters or care packages or just giving them a thank you when you see them!

Be forewarned, some of the blogs participating in these have even more hops they are involved in, so you could spend hours entering everything!

Sabrina York has FOUR giveaways ending within a matter of hours.

Win bling, swag and more...




And...if you enter any of these next contests, I get extra entries, so thank you! (warning, some of these are for ADULT books!)








Thursday, May 26, 2016

Murder at Morningside by Sandra Bretting (VBT, guest post, excerpt, and GIVEAWAY) GFT

It is my pleasure to have a guest post by author Sandra Bretting, who shares some of the experience of being a published author.

Welcome to the World, Baby Book!

By Sandra Bretting

Today my latest mystery turns two days old. While that may not sound like much, it’s been plinking around in the universe for a whole lot longer.

I originally wrote
Murder at Morningside in 2014. A year later, my agent sold it in a three-book deal to publisher Kensington books. And now…here we are.

The birth of a book is a strange thing. Unlike with babies, books normally germinate for at least a few years before the public gets a glimpse of them. Earnest Hemingway once said he thought about writing
The Old Man and the Sea for seventeen years before he actually did it. (He based the book on a magazine story he wrote for Esquire in the ‘50s.)

Not surprisingly, Hemingway confessed it was his favorite book when he reached the end of his life.

Since I already had two other books under my belt by the time I wrote
Murder at Morningside, I kind of knew what to expect. Like having a firstborn and learning by trial and error, you get the feel for how it’s all going to play out ahead of time. Here’s what those first few months before a book’s release day feel like:

Two Months Before Due Date: Friends and family start mentioning it. “Are you excited?” “Why aren’t you excited?” “It’s getting clossseeerrr.” Little do they know you’ve already started on your next book, and you’re mired in that dreaded beginning stage most writers hate. It’s the stage where nothing sounds good, you must be a horrible writer, and what ever made you think you could do this, anyway? That stage. At this point, you just smile and nod at your friends and family, and try not to throw a laptop at ‘em.

One Month Before Due Date
: This is when book reviewers start weighing in on your beloved baby. Now you have to train yourself not to jump out of bed in the morning to check websites like Kirkus and Publishers Weekly. But you can’t help it. It’s like peeking under a BandAid: you want to know what’s in there, but you really don’t.

The Blessed Event: The morning your book debuts, you awaken like it’s any other (in my case) Tuesday. Starlings still squeak outside the bedroom window, the dog still whines to be fed, and the high schooler once more tears out of the house at the last possible minute. If you’re lucky, a few friends might post something nice on your Facebook page. If you’re not, you spend the morning wondering how the whole world could go about its business when this wonderful thing has just happened. Don’t they know? Don’t they care? And why is the dog still whining?

It’s a surreal way to spend a day. This thing you’ve created—alone, in front of a computer—over many, many months has finally come to life. And, in your heart of hearts, you want everyone to love it as much as you do. You can’t help it…you’re its mother.


by Sandra Bretting


GENRE: Cozy Mystery



Heads turn when milliner Missy Dubois waltzes into town to set up shop on the Great River Road in Louisiana. Heaven only knows the brides who get married in the grand old mansions there could use a bit of help.

But then Missy discovers a murder among the magnolias, and even the worst “bridezilla” seems suddenly tame.



Time rewound with each footfall as I began to climb the grand outer staircase at Morningside Plantation. The limestone steps, burdened with the history of five generations, heaved their way toward heaven.

At the top lay a wide-plank verandah supported by columns painted pure white, like the clouds. By the time I took a third step, the digital camera in my right hand began to dissolve into the sterling silver handle of a ladies parasol. The visitors’ guide in my left hand magically transformed into a ballroom dance card bound by a satin cord.

Another step and the Mississippi River came into view as it flowed to the Gulf, languid as a waltz and the color of sweet tea. Could that be a whistle from a steamboat ferrying passengers past the plantation? If so, a turn and a wave wouldn’t be out of the question once I reached the top of the stairs, and good manners would dictate it.

I was about to do that when I realized the whistle was only my friend’s cell and not a Mississippi riverboat. “Ambrose! Turn that thing off. Honestly.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I always forget you were Scarlett O’Hara in a past life.”

The mood was broken, though, and the sterling silver in my hand returned to plastic while the linen dance card hardened to a glossy brochure.

Amazon link


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Sandra Bretting works as a freelance feature writer under contract to the Houston Chronicle. She received a journalism degree from the University of Missouri School of Journalism and wrote for other publications (including the Los Angeles Times and Orange Coast Magazine) before moving to Texas.

Her Missy DuBois Mysteries series debuts from Kensington/Lyrical Underground in May 2016. Bretting’s previous mysteries include Unholy Lies (2012) and Bless the Dying (2014). 

Readers can reach her online at website and through Facebook.



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Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Second Chances by Nancy Pennick (spotlight, excerpt, and GIVEAWAY) GFT

by Nancy Pennick


GENRE: New Adult, contemporary



Kate is ready to start a new life in a great city. Determined to follow her dream, she left college to write a book. Arriving in New York City, she vows to live in the present, not the past. Easy for most to say, except she has a secret. Kate is a time traveler.  She met the love of her life back in 1927. But he’s here now. No looking back. No going back.


Exclusive Excerpt:

Over the course of that evening, the girls got to know each other and promised to stay in touch. Many texts, phone calls and a few face-to-face meetings took place over the last two years. Kate understood Randi’s struggles. She wanted to act. Freddie wished she worked at the law firm.

“So you were only eighteen the first time we met?” Randi asked. “Kate? Did you hear me?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Kate blinked a few times.

“Where were you?” Randi stared at her. “I think I know. You were thinking of that hot guy you call a fiancĂ©e. When are you two tying the knot? You’ve been engaged like forever.”

Kate inwardly cringed. If only Randi knew she called her uncle “hot”. “Still in the planning stages. We’re in no rush.” She sighed again. “It’s only been a week, but I miss him. We talk every day.”

“Say no more.” Randi rummaged through her Gucci light green leather handbag “Darn phone! Where are you?” She came up with the device and punched in a number. “Papa! Hello, my favorite uncle of all time.” She grinned at Kate. “I will visit. Soon. First I have a favor. Can you fly Kate home this weekend? She needs to see her man. The sooner the better.” She lifted her eyebrows at Kate. “You’re the best. I love you.” She hung up and studied Kate with one eye closed. “You need some sex in your life. Go home, surprise Drew and stay in bed all weekend.”

Kate took a deep breath. Randi said whatever came to mind. She didn’t want to discuss her sex life. She barely talked with her best friend, Lindsey, about that part of her life. “Randi!”

“Oh? You don’t have sex?” Randi’s beautiful chocolate brown eyes stared her down.

If only she knew how hard I had to try when he came to the present. Drew and his old-fashioned values.  Kate rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course.”


“Drew’s a private person, Randi. He wouldn’t like me talking about him.” Especially to you!

Buy Links:

Fire and Ice Young Adult n New Adult Books


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

After a great career in teaching, Nancy found a second calling as a writer. She loves to travel, garden and have a good cup of tea nearby. She is the author of the young adult series, Waiting for Dusk. Those characters inspired her New Adult series, Second Chances.

Twitter: @npennick
Instagram: Nancy Pennick



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Tuesday, May 24, 2016

The Bad Decision Legacy by Morgan Kay (VBB, excerpt and GIVEAWAY) GFT

by Morgan Kay


GENRE: Romantic Suspense



The Men of Machismo series revolves around nine friends who worked together in a male revue. Each book follows the life of a different former dancer seven years later. The Bad Decision Legacy is Will and Tonya’s story.

Tonya’s psychotic ex is stalking her. Not the best time to meet men, still her best friend begs her to show up for blind date dinner. Her plan includes the meet and greet, then heading home. Of course, she never expected a man who sent every hormone in her body into high alert. Will looked like her next bad decision.

Will’s work as a divorce lawyer included discouraging embittered women from ramming their soon to be exes with the car or setting fire to their husband’s latest girlfriend. No wonder he fell hard for Tonya. The first woman he met with no agenda, well almost none. It’s obvious Tonya is knee deep in trouble, but refuses to ask for help. Instead of running the other way, he contemplates dashing into the tornado she refers to as her life. With any luck, he might survive.



A quick scan revealed he was in his business attire, minus the suit jacket. His loosened tie and undone top button announced he was ready to leave work behind for the day. He held out his empty hand. “Hi, I’m Will, Will Robinson.”

Tonya gave his hand a vigorous shake remembering from her business training that a weak handshake always decreased the client’s confidence in your ability. “Hi, Will Robinson. Wasn’t your family trying to get to Alpha Centauri?” The quip may have been ill-advised, but his name brought up memories of an old science fiction show sometimes featured in black and white reruns. It also helped cover her surprise that a simple touch jumpstarted a chemical reaction, one she’d considered out of commission.

Will kept her hand a tad longer than needed, while he smiled with his eyes. “Ah, we weren’t that Robinson family. Mine was the one that hadn’t seen the show and didn’t understand why naming me Will was not a kindness.”

Tonya found herself grinning back at the witty male. “Did the other kids pick on you?”

“Not too much, but there was this one female who gave me a hard time, and I didn’t even know her name.” He nodded toward the front door where Lynne stood waiting.

She almost asked him what grade that was until she realized he was referring to her. “Oh, her. The name’s Tonya Smiley.”

Her last name embarrassed her. It was such a cute name. Why couldn’t she have an ordinary name like Tyler or Brooks? To push past the inevitable remarks about her being smiley or having a beautiful smile or even her name suiting her, she went defensive. “Why were you sneaking around eavesdropping on our girl talk?”

Her abrupt question triggered Lynne’s coughing. In between coughs, she managed to mutter, “Watch it.”

Will threw his hands up over his head, one still wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle. “You got me. I’m guilty. I snuck out the side door that Marc showed me to retrieve the wine I forgot. The two of you were deep into conversation. I didn’t think it was my place to interrupt, but when I felt your outfit was being criticized, I had to say something.”

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The Bad Decision Legacy will be $0.99 during the tour.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Morgan K Wyatt writes steamy romances with a side of laughter under the name of Morgan Kay. The wisecracking heroines and hunky heroes are similar to the ones in her mainstream novels, but in the Steamy Interludes series, the bedroom door is left open.  Real life issues, humor, dogs are also staples in Morgan Kay romances.  

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