Whiskey on Our Shoes by Tonya Preece

 

 

When the attention-avoiding daughter of a celebrity couple and a Texas cowboy college student with his own troubles fall hard for each other, they must face their truths together or be torn apart by a media storm.

Whiskey on Our Shoes

by Tonya Preece

Genre: Contemporary New Adult Romance 

Eva dodges the fans, media, and gossip that follow her supermodel mom and rock star family members by wearing disguises. After an aimless gap year, she struggles to figure out what she wants from life. She moves in with her famous guitar god brother in Austin while he recovers from a drunken stage stunt accident and tries to stay sober. When a hot Texas cowboy named Alex takes Eva by surprise, she risks her safety and security of anonymity by letting him into her unconventional life.

Alex is captivated by Eva and promises to protect her privacy. Yet he has a secret of his own—the fling he had with an older woman is fraught with scandalous potential for him and now Eva. He broke free of that mistake months ago, or so he thought. As things heat up with Eva, his old flame returns and won’t leave him alone.

Just when Alex thinks he has the reins on the situation, his ex teams up with a gossip reporter hell-bent on invading Eva’s privacy. The resulting exposé, with a sly spin on a recent encounter with his ex, is Alex’s worst nightmare, and Eva’s unsure what to believe. Can she face the world with Alex at her side or will she return into hiding?

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Checking that the wig hides all my blonde hair, I ask Mom, “Who am I today?”  

Her head whips around, and she gasps. “I almost forgot. How about…Bella?”  

“Works for me.” I slide on a pair of oversized sunglasses, and she puts on a floppy, wide-brimmed hat.  

She’s told me before how being spotted in public doesn’t concern her unless there’s a chance of me getting drawn into the attention. On the few occasions I’ve shown up in snapshots with the celebs in our family, I looked slightly different each time, thanks to various disguises. And in those rare photos, I’m in the background, facing away from the camera. 

Managers and salespeople create a subtle barrier between us and other shoppers, but my goal is to be invisible to them as well. Not so easy when they give us the royal treatment behind the scenes. I trust they won’t take pictures or video, but a lot of my energy’s spent pretending to be someone else. I’m rusty at avoiding curious stares. It’s more exhausting than I remembered.  

As Mom browses from display to display, I find it easier to stay engrossed in a game on my phone. Staring at the screen, my face is shielded by the tresses of the brunette wig.  

“Earth to Bella.” Mom waves a hand in front of my eyes. “Isn’t it cute?”  

I glance at the summer dress she’s holding. “Yeah, it’s nice,” I say, and my gaze falls right back to my phone. She must not notice my lack of excitement and moves on to another dress, chattering non-stop.  

“Ooh, Bella, check this out.” “Hey, Bella, I could see you in this.” “Bella, do you like this dress?” She won’t stop, and I have an absurd sense of not being me anymore. How the hell should I know what Bella likes?  

The next time Mom calls me Bella, I wince and squeeze my eyes shut.  

“Are you okay?” Mom touches my arm.  

“I’m not feeling well.” I press my fingers to my temples.  

She guides me into a curtained dressing room. “Try not to puke or faint or anything.” She lingers by the entry, eying me warily. “Are you good now?”  

“I will be. You should keep shopping. I just need a minute.” I sit on a bench in the small space.  

“Maybe you’re dehydrated. I’ll have someone bring you a drink.”  

I close my eyes and lean on the wall, craving the freedom I’ve enjoyed without Mom.  

My heart sinks, though. I love Mom, and I’ve missed her, but is this what Lor means when he talks about me finding independence?  

“Excuse me, miss, are you Bella?” someone says.  

I open the curtain. There’s a lady, mid-twenties, offering me a bottle of water. Grateful, I take it, and she has an eager, starstruck look in her eyes.  

“It must be cool to hang out with Sloane Silver, huh? How do you know her?”  

“She’s a friend of my mom’s.” I take a long, cold drink.  

“Wow, where’re you from?”  

Cornered, I mutter the first thing to pop into my head. “I’m from Budapest.”  

Her eyebrows rise, probably from disbelief since I don’t have an accent.  

Oops. I stand. Time to leave.  

The lady moves aside, and Mom’s standing there, the color drained from her face. She stares in my direction, her eyes glazed over.  

I approach her. “What’s wrong?”  

She startles and snaps out of whatever made her look like she’d seen a ghost. “Oh, nothing.” Her gaze flits to the lady. “We’re good here. Thanks for your help.”  

The lady makes herself scarce as Mom shoos me back into the dressing room and closes the curtain.  

“Eva, what made you think of…that place?” Mom whispers.  

“What place? Oh, Budapest?” I shrug. “It came to mind because of the postcard. The one in Lor’s living room.” I note the clenching of her jaw as she turns away. “Does the postcard mean something? When I asked Lor, he wouldn’t say.”  

“If he didn’t tell you, it must be private.” She faces me again, with a tight smile. “You’ve hardly shopped for yourself today, and I want to buy you something. Try these on.” She hangs the dresses she’s holding on a hook in the dressing room.  

I absentmindedly flip through them, waiting for her to leave before I strip.  

“Ev—Bella,” she whispers. “Why are you checking price tags?”  

I shrug. “I guess it helps me decide if something’s worth it or not.”  

“Worth it?” She eyes me, head to toe, like I’m a stranger. And I do feel strange. Maybe she doesn’t know me anymore. Do I even know myself?  

Tonya Preece writes romance and contemporary young adult fiction and incorporates music into all her books in one way or another. She lives near Austin, TX where she’s a small business manager for a forensic engineering firm. She and her husband enjoy traveling, live music, wine, and spoiling their fur babies.

As an active SCBWI member since 2015, Tonya has volunteered for several conferences and has served as a critique group facilitator. She joined the Writer’s League of Texas and The Author’s Guild in 2021. She served as the 2022 WriteOnCon Financial Administrator and Critique Boutique Coordinator.

Tonya’s 2022 debut, Whiskey on Our Shoes, was selected for the 2019 #WriteMentor program. One of her YA novels, CLOSER TO THE FLAME, earned her a 2020 scholarship/mentorship with Austin SCBWI and was a finalist at the 2018 Houston SCBWI conference.

An avid consumer of written stories, Tonya reads and/or listens to an average of 75 books a year. Some of her favorite YA authors include Jeff Zentner, Julie Buxbaum, Sarah Dessen, and Robin Benway. In adult romance – Kate Clayborn, Christina Lauren, Helena Hunting, Emily Henry, and Abby Jimenez. Series she tries to keep up to date on: Rhys Bowen’s Royal Spyness and Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum. Recent mainstream faves are Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens and Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid.

Five Fun Facts about Tonya that aren’t reading or writing related:

1. She volunteers at a local food pantry, where she’s enjoyed serving weekly since 2017.

2. Her travel bucket list includes Italy, Ireland, and Bora Bora. Australia would be awesome, too!

3. She loves ziplining, indoor skydiving, and rollercoasters.

4. She’s a fan of bands like With Confidence, Broadside, All Time Low, State Champs, Sleeping with Sirens, and As It Is.

5. 5. In her free time, she can be found indulging a jigsaw puzzle habit and/or binging shows like Outer Banks, Never Have I Ever, Downton Abbey, Bridgerton, Good Girls, Veronica Mars, and iZombie.

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By Caroline Clemmons

                     

Moving into Fall brings expectations and refreshes memories of changing leaves, chrysanthemums, cooler weather, family gatherings, and certain foods—what folks call “comfort” foods. I’ll include a couple of recipes later in this newsletter.

Have you ever thrown a coin into a fountain or wishing well and made a wish? If so, did your wish come true? When I was writing this blog, I discovered there are dozens of sites online that sell special wishing well coins (most of them plastic). You can even rent a wishing well for a party. 

Sometimes our wishes come true, but with unexpected complications. That’s what happened to Serena Winter in WINTER’S WISH, now on sale for only 99¢ through Thanksgiving Day.

 

Here’s the description for WINTER’S WISH:

None of the eligible men in the town of Hopeful, Colorado appeals to Serena Winter. Working at the mercantile owned by her aunt and uncle, she meets everyone in town. Her aunt warns her against falling for a prospector as they always leave town in the spring. One full moon, Serena quietly leaves her aunt’s home and drops a coin into the town wishing well. Her wish was she would attract an interesting man. She should have been more careful about wording her wish.

Brent Adams has filed on his claim and brought gold ore with him to the assay office in Hopeful. He fears taking it to an assayer closer to his mine will attract claim jumpers and robbers. He’s immediately charmed by Serena. Now he has a new fear—incurring her anger when she learns the secrets he’s withholding.

When Serena is lost in freezing weather, Brent frantically searches for her. If he can find her in time, can they reconcile their differences and find lasting love?

WINTER’S WISH is a sweet western historical romance available from Amazon in e-boo and print, and is free in Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/Winter-Wish-Caroline-Clemmons-ebook/dp/B088QMXJW2/ 

 

Thank you for encouraging me and for reading my books. Your friendship means the world to me. As Lester Holt says at the end of the evening news, "Stay safe and be kind to each other.” Kindness is powerful!

Rebellion's Fire Book 1: Last Flame of Alba by Mary Lancaster

Rebellion's Fire 

Book 1:  Last Flame of Alba

by Mary Lancaster

Amazon Buy Link

Book Blurb:

“The MacHeths are coming!”

By 1156, Malcolm MacHeth, one time Earl of Ross, languishes a prisoner in Roxburgh Castle while his rampaging sons raise rebellion in his name. Optimistically, the King of Scots promises the earldom of Ross to landless Norman knight, Sir William de Lanson, if he can somehow defeat the infamous MacHeths.

It wasn’t quite how William’s disgraced wife Christian dreamed of coming home. Capture by the strange and ferocious Adam MacHeth was hardly part of her plan either, although she and William quickly become pawns in his.

Adam, warrior and seer, fights for his father’s freedom and for his family’s right to claim the kingdom of the Scots. Plagued by waking dreams which threaten his sanity and his life, he’s learned to use his prophecies to further his family’s goals. But when he abducts his enemy’s lady, his dreams and his desires are suddenly more personal.

Surrounded by intrigue, ambition and betrayal, Christian must choose between loyalty and love in order to keep a fragile peace for her people and for the man she loves beyond life.

Read Free in Kindle Unlimited!

Last Flame of Alba
Book1: Rebellion’s Fire
Book 2: A Constant Blaze
Book 3: Burning Embers

*Note: Rebellion's Fire was previously published as Rebel of Ross. This second edition contains new material for readers to enjoy.

Review:

I enjoyed this historical romance.  While there was plenty of violence and plunder, it wasn't the usual Highlander book.  Adam will be violent and ruthless when necessary, but truly cares about people, especially his people.  He will do anything to care for them, even when it places him in danger.  I was drawn onward in the book almost against my will.  The book ends happily, of course.  I don't read books that don't end happily.  I recommend this book to curl up with for an afternoon in front of the fire.

 

Finding the End Zone by Tam DeRudder Jackson

 

 

It started as fun and games. Now I’m playing for her heart—and my own. 

Finding the End Zone

Game Time Series Book 1

by Tam DeRudder Jackson

Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance

Never date a player.

Football god Callahan O’Reilly can keep his blazing blue eyes to himself. I have a scholarship to maintain, and I do not have time to babysit a jock through a make-or-break class project. Even if one smoldering glance from him sets my panties on fire.

Time to change her mind.

Jamaica Winslow opens her mouth and spews sass like a volcano. One look at her uptight package and I want to coax the genie from the bottle, unleash all the passion she hides beneath a mop of unruly curls and a smart-ass attitude. She’s not my type, she doesn’t know one damn thing about the game that rules my life, and I can’t stop thinking about her.

Who said anything about love?

Jamaica does her best to keep me at arm’s length, but I’m not a pro prospect because I let the plays come to me. With the game on the line, I always want the ball. When an alum with deep pockets and delusions of grandeur makes demands that threaten my NFL chances and Jamaica’s scholarship, I have no choice but to man up and do the right thing no matter the cost.

It started as fun and games. Now I’m playing for her heart—and my own.

Game Time.

**Only .99cents!**

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Tam DeRudder Jackson is the author of the paranormal romance Talisman Series and the contemporary romance Balefire Series. Her favorite “room” in her house is her patio where she dreams up stories of romance and risk. When she’s not writing her latest paranormal or contemporary romance, you can find her driving around in her convertible or carving turns on the slopes of the local ski hill. The mom of two grown sons, Tam likes to travel, attend rock concerts, watch football and soccer, and visit old car shows with her husband. She lives in the mountains of northwest Wyoming where she spends most of her free time trying to read all the books. Her TBR piles are threatening to take over her office, and she’s fine with that.

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Time For Christmas Stories

 It is time for Christmas stories now that the heat of summer is over and the cool of fall is here.  Here is one of my Christmas stories you might enjoy.

Gloria

by Caroline Clemmons

Amazon buy link

Book Blurb:

A desperate woman…
A distrustful rancher with a secret…
And a boy in need of a family.

Orphaned at an early age and sent to live with her relatives, Gloria Tabor is fed up with the treatment she receives from her aunt, uncle, and spiteful cousin. In a moment of desperation, she leaves her only relatives’ home. With only a small savings, where is she to go? The question is sobering, but she is determined she will not return to her kin’s home.

While deliberating her lack of choice, she overhears a young man comforting a sobbing woman she recognizes as a friend from school. After a few minutes of conversation with them, the friend offers Gloria the chance to escape town to a ranch in Texas as a mail order bride. In exchange, Gloria must promise not to divulge her real identity until the couple has eloped and had a honeymoon. Elated at the opportunity, Gloria agrees. She vows she will never let herself be told what to do or think again.

On the way to her prospective groom, Gloria rescues a ten-year-old boy from a policeman who wants to take the boy to the local orphanage. Heart filled with sympathy for the homeless child, she intercedes. Later, she wonders how her prospective groom will react to her bringing a ward with her.

Texas rancher Dwight Price is a stickler for honesty. Once someone has lost his confidence, he won’t er fully trust the person again. He strives to live up to his beliefs. On the one hand, he isn’t certain her wants to wed the daughter of his father’s oldest friend. On the other hand, he looks forward to a life of quiet harmony with his mail order bride.

Near Christmas, Gloria gets a telegram releasing her from her promise. Dwight wants to know who sent the wire and why. Her explanation destroys the faith he had in her—and then his own secret crops up.
Can these two overcome the damage to their relationship or will each be alone again?




You would be surprised at the amount of trouble two people can get into together and separately.  I hope you enjoy this story and it helps you get into the Christmas spirit.

Stuck with the Off Limits Protector by Maia Ambrose

 

 

A BWWM Workplace Romance

Stuck With the Off Limits Protector

by Maia Ambrose

Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance

I was sworn off men until this hot alpha hero fought his way into my life. 

Turns out he’s ex-military and works for my new boss.

Just my luck, he’s the one man I'm not allowed to have.

But constant road trips cause our worlds to explode like fireworks. 

His skills give secret service duty a whole new meaning.

And we're playing a dangerous game as lovers and friends.

We can't stop despite our jobs and lives are on the line.

Ironically, our pasts are already intertwined.

Yet, saving me won't right the wrongs done. 

Now that I know what he’s been hiding, he must think I’m a fool to let it fly.

While my heart feels he’s the one, everything else is telling me to say goodbye.

**Only .99cents!**

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"Okay. But what’s your stance on it? Are you pro-abortion or anti-abortion?" 

 

“Well there seem to be solid reasons for and against the matter. What I will say is I think men should have a say so.” 

 

“And what do you mean by that exactly?” 

 

“If a guy gets a girl pregnant, he should know and have influence on the decision.” 

 

“See that’s the problem right there.” She responds. “Let me ask you this, when’s the last time women ever got involved with how or with whom men can procreate? Think about it. Have we ever tried to pass laws telling men what they can or can’t do with their testicles? I’ll wait” she says sharply. 

 

Damn, this woman has some wit about her that I like. And she also has a point – to a degree. 

 

“I get where you’re going, I’m just saying men have feelings too when it comes to becoming a parent. It takes two to make it, so it should take two to eliminate it. The decision for a baby to live or die shouldn’t be one-sided that’s all” I respond. 

 

“Ah just like the government does when playing God sending the military overseas to kill innocent people. I’m starting to see a pattern.” 

 

“Whoa, it’s not like that. The military executes orders to protect and serve. And exactly whose side are you on Tiffani?” 

 

“I meant no disrespect. It’s just a correlation. Say for instance we were having a baby. I’m leaning to terminate but you want to have it. It’s my body and I’d have to deal with all the complications that come with carrying to term because men get the last word. If laws are in place to force the pregnancy, where are my rights and respect as a human being before anything?” 

 

My brain is stuck imagining what it would be like having a kid with Tiffani Bradshaw. I snap out of it quickly. 

 

“That’s why I said it there’s pros and cons. Why do you care so much?” I reply. 

 

“I’m a woman, why shouldn’t I? And I want to give the issue a voice without taking a side.” 

 

“Seems like you’re already a bit biased, no?” 

 

“And that’s why I’ve been interviewing men like yourself” she contends. 

 

“I think I find it easier discussing how the USAID deployed a disaster assistance response team to Ukraine,” I say. 

 

Her eyes turn sullen. “You know, thinking about the Ukraine-Russia war right now is crazy. I know it’s a lot we civilians don’t know, but it honestly seems senseless. We’re here because two men in power want to see whose balls hang lower. It’s fucked up people are losing their lives and others becoming displaced. Foreign policy I get – but this doesn’t make any freaking sense.” 

 

I turned to her amazed at her opinions on the matter, visualizing kissing her passionately. 

 

“Yeah I hear you. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t get involved.” 

 

“Imagine how better the world would be if we didn't have to deal with wars,” she says. 

 

“Unrecognizable is the first word that comes to mind. When you strip down the bullshit, war boils down to two things and two things only, money and power. He who has the most wins” I declare. 

 

She goes quiet, and so do I. 

 

Why it’s taking so long to get the elevator fixed is beyond me. I know I wanted to chat with her, but staying this close to her is affecting my ability to resist kissing her. I take my eyes away from her, but she drifts closer to me, causing her arm to brush against mine more intensely than it did before. 

 

Her skin is soft, and I want to feel more of it. The urge in me to kiss her full lips grows. Am I'm the only one feeling this tension? I wonder what she thinks as she’s leaning on my shoulder or if she feels the same way. I try to keep holding back but looking ahead. But once I look down at her, she looks up at me almost in synchronicity. Our gazes lock and there’s only one thing that feels right to do. I can't take it anymore. I crush her lips with a kiss and she doesn't move back or pull away. Instead, her mouth gladly welcomes my swirling tongue. This makes it hard for me to resist the urge to stop kissing her. So, I don't. 

Maia Ambrose is an African American Steamy Romance author from the Midwest who believes in the power of love and everything it has to offer. Her stories illustrate the dynamic of contemporary interracial relationships between strong, resilient black women and heart-throbbing, irresistible white men. Maia believes there's truly someone for everyone and aims to inspire more love energy in the world with her work.

Maia is a notorious night owl, who frequently burns the midnight oil, coming up with creative romantic ideas. When she's not writing her BWWM stories, she's spending time with the people she loves most and practicing self-care.

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Cookin' Up Murder by D.J. Adamson

 

 

Tuesday Welsh, a witty and tenacious private investigator whose life takes an unexpected turn when she stumbles upon the lifeless body of Eric Kenny, owner of Mr. Yummy's donut shop. Yet, upon going to the home of Eric Kenny, she finds him standing in the doorway, ready to greet her. 

Cookin' Up Murder

Davidson & Welsh Investigations Book One

by D.J. Adamson

Genre: Cozy Mystery 

"Cookin' Up Murder" is a lighthearted and captivating mystery set in Appleton, Oregon. The story revolves around Tuesday Welsh, a witty and a tenacious private investigator whose life takes an unexpected turn when she stumbles upon the lifeless body of Eric Kenny, owner of Mr. Yummy's donut shop.

Tuesday is thrust into a web of secrets and danger that extends far beyond the sugary confines of the donut shop. As she delves deeper into the investigation, determined to unearth the truth, she finds herself entangled in a sinister plot that will shock her community. And possibly gain Davidson & Welsh a new client.

Filled with a blend of humor and suspense, "Cookin' Up Murder" is sure to captivate readers who enjoy mysteries. It offers an engaging puzzle that will keep readers guessing until the satisfying reveal of the culprit.

“Neither snow nor hunky cops nor angry cats will keep intrepid P.I. Tuesday Welsh from the (sometimes tardy) commission of her appointed rounds, chiefly trying to figure out why the body she discovered shows up alive and kicking elsewhere. “Cookin’ Up Murder” offers a delightful demonstration of how small towns can cook up big problems, with an ever-resourceful (despite herself) heroine as your guide.” – Michael Mallory.

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I stepped out of the shower and suffered a chilly assault, sending a body shiver down my spine from my nipples to my toes. I quickly dried myself, swiftly slipping into my undies like a woman whose boyfriend’s wife just got home. Not that I would ever date a married man. A friend of mine discovered dating a married man wasn’t the best way to maintain a non-committed relationship. Especially if the man’s wife owned a gun.

Next. I stepped into a pair of black polyester slacks, grabbed a white, wrinkle-free, stain-resistant cotton blouse, and buttoned it. Unfortunately, I found I’d skipped a button and had to re-button it, this time starting from the bottom. Finally, I rescued my shoes from under the couch, where a gazillion dust bunnies attacked me. I toed on my shoes. When I glimpsed the clock, its hands pointed to eight-fifty-three. This meant I had a mere seven minutes to get to work. The office was at least ten minutes away.

***

“Before I leave, I want you to promise that you’ll open the office on time,” demanded Harley Davidson, my business partner, last Wednesday night.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I replied, pretending I didn’t already know the answer.

Harley stands at five-foot-ten, his green eyes framed by well-groomed eyebrows. His eyes hold a mischievous glint as if he harbors something known only to him. He might tower over me with his tousled reddish-brown hair, but he never truly poses a formidable threat. With me, his bark is always worse than his bite.

“Beats me why you’re never on time,” he sniffed. “I bet if you were called to save someone from jumping off a building, you’d arrive after the coroner.”

“Why is it a man jumping and not a woman?” I quipped, my eyes shooting daggers at him.

He scowled, thinking I wasn’t taking his last-minute to-do list seriously.

Harley Davidson and I have been business partners for three years at Davidson & Welsh Investigations. The decision to partner with him was an easy one. He possessed an unwavering sense of integrity, even when faced with tough choices. He is serious about business but has a quick wit that can help calm clients down.

But, I don’t like to-do lists.

So, I added, “And why was I the one called?” I couldn’t help being flippant because I wasn’t the one getting to go to Los Angeles.

“Ahhhhh,” he screamed, his hands gripping his hair like a man driven to madness.

I can cause that reaction sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” I quickly backed off and backed up, giving him some space. He clearly wasn’t in a joking mood. So, raising my right hand, I solemnly vowed, “I swear that the office will be unlocked, and the lights turned on ten minutes early every day.” I crossed my heart, but without hoping to die. A girl can only go so far.

“Hands,” he demanded.

I extended both of my hands, all fingers uncrossed, as a gesture of goodwill.

“Just be on time. That will be miracle enough,” he stated firmly, staring at me. But there was an upward curve on his lips. “On time and no Amazon shopping during office hours. I should get back by Saturday night.”

“But…”

“Find new clients.”

“But…” I tried to protest again. No Amazon shopping? Christmas was on Monday!

***

I meant to be on time.

Only, it was going to be a close call this morning.

***

I scraped my Toyota Corolla’s windshield. Some ice, but not bad. I started the engine, and stepped on the gas pedal, causing the front tires to spin a bit before finding traction. If I hurried, I’d be close to keeping my promise.

Feeling good about keeping my promise to Harley, I then spotted the Mr. Yummy’s shop. A caricature of a large-bellied baker placed on the roofline, wearing a tall white hat and holding a tray filled with frosted donuts is hard to miss. On impulse, I turned into the parking lot, thinking, yummy, breakfast. “In and out fast,” I promised myself.

Getting out of the car, my stomach growled, craving a maple bar. I rushed to the front door. Pushed. But the door wouldn’t budge. I checked the neon sign in the upper part of the large front window, OPEN. Cupping my hands to prevent reflection, I peered into the store. The lights were on. Yet, squinting, I realized the display cases were empty of donuts. Sold out? Not likely.

With each passing minute, my lateness became more pressing, so I headed back to the car. Suddenly, I caught a whiff of something. Something’s on fire. Following my nose, I made my way around the shop to the back door, which was slightly ajar. Cautiously, I stuck my head inside and called out, “Anyone here?”

This wasn’t my first time at Mr. Yummy’s. In fact, I was a frequent customer and had gotten to know the owner, Eric Kenny. Upon entering the sweltering bakery, a repugnant stench made my nose itch and overwhelmed the fragrance of swizzling donuts.

Pallets stacked with cans of oil and cartons of Mr. Yummy’s mixes blocked a clear view. Moving further into the room, I saw a work counter with dough mounds covered in flour, rising. Just beyond there, a small collection of racks displaying donuts, waiting to be glazed.

“Hello? The front door is locked even though the sign says open,” I announced, thinking the owner wasn’t aware of the fact.

Then, I saw him. His arms were hugging a large stainless-steel tub, desperately trying to stop it from falling.

“Mr. Kenny?” I shouted, rushing over to him. His head floated on a vat of oil. His one visible eye, scorched yellow, had popped and stared straight at me.

“Eric!” I grabbed his shoulders and pulled back hard, hauling his head out of the vat. I continued pulling, bringing his body almost into a stand, where we both teetered.

“I can’t hold you,” I shouted, as if his injury caused deafness. For a moment he seemed to know someone was trying to help him. He stood. If I had been thinking clearly, I’d have recognized this was an anomaly, a slight moment when laws of physics hold before gravity takes over. But I wasn’t thinking. I was yelling, “You’re going to be okay,” trying to keep him standing. However, I couldn’t hold him. He was much too heavy. His body toppled to the floor, taking me down with him.

My encouragement changed to, “Help!”

The smell of his charred flesh invaded my nostrils, causing my stomach to churn. I gagged, pushed, and wiggled to free myself from underneath him. Finally, I yelled, innocently, but stupidly, “Get off me.”

Call it pure, straight-up terror.

I struggled to breathe, each breath triggering me to gag.

Holding my breath, I wiggled, scooted, pushed-- wriggled, scooted, and pushed some more, desperately trying to escape. But my 110-pound—possibly 120-pound body—couldn’t match his solid 200 pounds. However, somehow, I slid beneath his shoulder and arm, relieving the heavier weight of his chest and stomach. I crawled out from under him. Then I saw his white chef’s hat lying underneath the tub. And something else--donut dough?

I rushed to the sink and vomited.

D. J. Adamson is an accomplished author known for her captivating storytelling and engaging characters. She has established herself as a prominent figure in the world of mystery and suspense fiction. Her work draws inspiration from classic detective novels and contemporary thrillers. Adamson's literary journey began at a young age, and she continued the journey through her life, recently embarking on her work with novels and her exceptional ability to create immersive worlds and multifaceted characters. She developed her own unique style that combines elements of suspense, intrigue and psychological depth. Beyond her novels, Adamson has contributed to various literary journals and anthologies, sharing her insights and expertise with fellow writers and enthusiasts. Her work has gained a loyal following and her novels praised for their intricate plotting and masterful storytelling. When not immersed in the world of writing, Adamson enjoys the Central CA coast, traveling, and the outdoors. She also engages with her readers through various platforms, fostering a strong connection and appreciation for the support she receives from her dedicated fan base. Readers can connect with her through her website at www.djadamson.com.

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99¢ FOR MAIL ORDER MORIAH!

By Caroline Clemmons

I’m pleased to share with you that MAIL ORDER MORIAH is now only 99¢, book one in the Pearson Grove trilogy available in ebook and in print. This is a sweet, wholesome historical western romance with plenty of adventure and action. The cover is a recent change from the original.

When I was a girl, my dad (who was old enough to be my grandfather) used to tell stories about events in his family’s history—from the time the family came to Texas in 1876 up through the time he and my mom married. Dad was a fascinating storyteller and I was a mesmerized listener—no matter how many times I’d heard that particular story. Is it any wonder that I love writing books set in that time period?

Dad was next to the youngest in a family of one girl and seven boys plus an older half-brother. (Don’t you feel sorry for the girl?) According to my father’s stories, the brothers were a bit… um… shall we say rowdy? He often included tales of other kin, neighbors, and ancestors. That made for interesting tales that became fodder for a writer’s stockpile of images and characters.

I love the contemporary West as well, but there’s something about the historic West that keeps characters and plots churning in my mind. I’m grateful Kirsten Osbourne let me use her Brides of Beckham matchmaker, Harriett Long, for my MAIL-0RDER MORIAH. Kirsten’s series is a favorite of mine and I’m thrilled to be associated even distantly.

MAIL-ORDER MORIAH is set in North Central Texas in a fictional town named Pearson Grove. My dad’s first name was Pearson and he was born in Pilot Grove in Grayson County, Texas. Being a writer is such fun—we can make up people and places at will.

In MAIL-ORDER MORIAH, Scott Ferguson is the owner of a mercantile store in Pearson Grove. He bought the store using an inheritance. His management has improved the store. Now he needs a helpmate, a wife who will be a true partner and help in the store as well as keep the home in the rooms over the mercantile. A brief engagement with the town’s social butterfly has left a bad taste in Scott’s mouth.

Moriah Singleton emigrated from England with the intention of finding a job in a shop. She planned to send money home so her sister could join her.  So far, life has not gone as planned and she soon finds herself with no job. Fortunately, she learns of Harriett Long and visits the matchmaker.

Life in Pearson Grove presents numerous obstacles to Moriah and Scott. After all, we want them to overcome roadblocks, successfully build their romance, and live happily ever after.

If you haven’t yet read MAIL-ORDER MORIAH, I encourage you to read it now. The buy link at Amazon is http://getbook.at/MORIAH

Stay safe and keep reading! 

Bonded For Life by Sharon BuchBinder

 

 

Was she a dangerous infatuation, or a second chance at love?

Bonded for Life

by Sharon Buchbinder

Genre: Small Town, Second Chance, Romantic Suspense 

Lola Getz and Webster Bond felt an instant spark when they met as high school students in Victory Shores. But their budding romance was cut short when Lola’s parents died in a plane crash and she had to return to Mexico. There, she became a famous artist and married a man who turned out to be a fraud. Webster, meanwhile, joined the army, earned medals of honor, and came back to his hometown as a cop.

Years later, Lola’s life is in danger when armed men break into her house. She flees to the only place she feels safe: her twenty-fifth high school reunion. Webster is surprised and thrilled to see her again—and vows to keep her safe. But is she his long-lost love or a deadly temptation?

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Prologue Victory Shores High School Victory Shores, New York Twenty-Five Years Ago Lola Getz threaded her way through the crowd, anxious to get to her locker to grab her books for her next class. Members of the football team, spread out between the locker-lined walls, streamed toward her and blocked her path. Madre de Dios. Just what I need today. A hulking offensive linebacker stepped in front of her and stared down her blouse. “Hey, Chica! Why are you in such a hurry?” Waves of body odor rolled off him and over Lola. Wishing she had a can of deodorant to hose him down, she waved a hand in front of her face to dispel the B.O. “I have to get to class.” “I have to get to class,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “Why bother? You’re going to get married and change diapers.” How many times in her life had she heard this sexist crap? She was sick and tired of being told all she was good for was to take care of a man and to breed. She was an artist, a damn good one, and no one was going to take that away from her. No one. Someone pinched her butt. Hard. She whirled and kneed the creep in the crotch. The quarterback, who often bragged he was the smartest player on the team, howled and dropped to the floor. Lola considered the writhing boy. “Not so smart now, are you?” Ms. Cross, the Women’s Studies teacher, materialized at her elbow. “Where are you supposed to be, Lola?” “I was trying to get to my locker—until this pack of hyenas attacked me.” “Go on. I’ll take care of them.” Ms. Cross yelled, “A month’s detention for the entire football team.” “Aww, come on!” “Not fair.” “We were joking!” “She attacked the QB!” “I didn’t do nothing!” “Dickhead made us do it!” Escaping the tumult, Lola raced down the hall and around the corner. She skidded to a stop at her locker and yanked the door open. She had a fraction of a second to register something didn’t belong in the narrow space—a scrawny kid!—before he fell on top of her. With a loud “oof,” she landed flat on her back on the floor. The boy’s face smashed into hers, his beak of a nose pressing into her right eyeball. In the moment, all she could think of was, “At least he doesn’t reek of B.O.!” “Ohmigod, ohmigod!” The kid scrambled to get up, slid on the notebook-paper-strewn floor, and fell on top of her again. A sharp elbow jabbed her in the breast. “Watch it, compadre!” she yelped. His arms flailed and sought purchase on the recently waxed floor. “Sorry,” the kid moaned. “Sorry, so sorry!” She attempted to roll out from under him, only to get tangled in his legs. Madre de Dios. What else can go wrong today? The poor boy’s expression as he tried to get off her, only to slide with a clang into the metal locker, set her off on a burst of giggles. “Ohmigod, you’re crying.” His face creased with worry. “Don’t move. I’ll get the school nurse.” Shaking with mirth, Lola gasped, “No. Stop. Don’t go.” He knelt at her side and peered into her eyes. “Your pupils are dilated. You’re in shock.” “I’m fine, I swear.” She sat up and wiped a tear off her cheek. “Who put you in there?” “My arch-enemy, Dick Heade, and his merry football henchmen.” The kid extended his hand and assisted her to her feet. “They think it’s tons of fun.” “What a cabrón!” “If that means what I think it means, yeah. He is a—” “Bastard.” “I was going to say dickhead, but then that’s his name.” The boy shrugged. “Overkill.” If the kid hadn’t been as skinny as a decoration for Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, he would have been cute—and sexy in a Johnny Depp kind of way. When he’d been on top of her, he’d rubbed her in all the wrong places—and caused all kinds of sensations that she’d never felt before. In fact, she hadn’t wanted the feelings to stop. Where had that come from? And he’d made her laugh. No other guy in this school had made her giggle like that before. “What is your name, amigo?” “Webster. Webster Bond.” “Hmm. Stirred but not shaken. I like that in a man.” His face became a deep red. “And you are…?” “Lola. Lola Getz.” The class bell rang. “Mierda. Late—again.”

Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, obtained a PhD in Public Health, and is an administrator in higher education. She is the author of the Hotel LaBelle Series, the Jinni Hunter Series, and the Obsession Series. When not attempting to make students and colleagues laugh or writing, she can be found walking her pugs, Agent Frank and Igor Valentino, waiting on her Maine Coon cat, Buster Brown,  or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends.

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