Category: Author Information

Find out more about your favorite author or maybe someone new.

Charity Sunday: Save Our Allies

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I’ve written about Save Our Allies (https://saveourallies.org) before, but back in 2022 the focus was on the rescue missions done to save Americans and allies in Afghanistan after the U.S. withdrawal. This great organization is also serving here at home, particularly after Hurricane Helene in western North Carolina, where they’re rescuing people cut off from towns, homes, even roads. My dad, as well as Jack’s family, was from the Asheville area but “up the mountain,” if you know what I mean.

Fortunately, I know that my folks are all safe and helping each other recover. But there is still so much to do and so much help needed. The mission of Save Our Allies is to serve where Americans need them the most. Please post a comment and I will donate to this worthy outfit. Thank you!

For Asheville, NC:

Even having lived in Virginia Beach for many years, my experience with hurricanes was small. But my senior year of high school, in Florida, I experienced a somewhat mile Hurricane Camille. Somewhat mild in Florida. When she raced north, through Alabama, Tennessee, North Carolina and up the Shenandoah Valley into Virginia, she somehow gained strength in destruction. She wiped out the town of Vesuvius in Virginia and caused a 100-year flood on the James River up the road from what would one day become my hometown. Now, Helene has done the same to the area of North Carolina that I visited so often as a child. Dad was from an area outside Asheville called Sandy Mush. I have no idea why. Now the population is 344 but it was much less back in the day. It was a mystical place filled with hard-working people who dealt with hardship and praised God for their blessings. The terrain was so mountainous that my uncle’s barn and cows were on one steep slope, while across the road the land dropped off so sharply, the roof on his house is all you could see from the road. Having grown up in the city, Sandy Mush was like going to a different planet. But it was fun. In that regard, I could identify with Jack/Kyle in my book.

This excerpt is from what was originally titled It’s All Relative. This book will be republished very soon and I don’t even have a working title or cover yet. It’s the closest thing I’ve written that pays homage to Asheville and Wonderful Western North Carolina and too my family still there—and thankfully safe (though not sound, yet) after Helene.

Blurb:
When Jack and Sally meet one weekend in Nags Head, neither are prepared for the instantaneous attraction they feel. It makes both of them nervous, and while it was wonderful, there’s relief felt when the weekend ends. Months later, in a city on the opposite side of the state, Geneva Jameson is shocked to meet Kyle McCaislin, the cousin she’d never met—and the man she’d known as Jack. Sparks fly between the two as they try to deal with their quandary, not knowing the many surprises before them. Will their hearts discover what their minds already know? That in passion as in life, things aren’t always what they seem.

Buy link:
Coming soon

Excerpt:
Just when she thought they were finished, the minister gestured for her to come forward. What was this? She didn’t have a part in the service. She had turned slightly to see if someone behind her was getting up, when Kyle stood and walked to the front. He moved behind the podium, rested his hands on each side and looked out into the church.

“Good morning. I know it’s late and hot and I won’t keep you. My name is Kyle McCaislin and my father was known to some of you here.” Geneva heard a murmur of voices in acknowledgement. “I only wanted to share with you some few remembrances of my namesake, my grandfather. I can’t say I spent much time with him, but he ensured that the time we had together was meaningful and exciting. Especially to a young boy.

“My sister and I grew up in New York City, in a brick building in a block of other brick buildings and concrete streets. It was a nice section of Manhattan and we had a good childhood, but starting from when I was quite little my dad brought me home, here to Asheville, to spend a month each summer with his parents, and I saw a world totally different from where I lived.” Kyle glanced at the front row of people. “Unfortunately, these visits always took place during the time you and your families were off on vacations, so we never got the chance to get to know each other. Based on the fact that we never had contact, I’d say that was all planned, for some reason.” He looked at Geneva, and then out into the church again. “Feelings between my dad and Grandpa weren’t good when Dad left home, but they made things up over the years, and by the time of our last visit, when I was eighteen, the love between them was evident.”

Kyle cleared his throat and looked down at the podium for a moment before continuing. “When I was small, I only remember a big man. Gruff to everyone but me, with whom he was gentle as a lamb. I sat on his stomach as he lay on the sofa and read me stories. He was a horse on the living room floor when I wanted to be a cowboy. He was an endless source of stories about the fairies and magic of Scotland, and a boon companion when grandma baked scones and we sat on the back steps eating them slathered with butter, watching the clouds.

“When I was older, Grandpa took me on hikes around the estate, pointing out trees, flowers, bushes, animals. He was a genius when it came to planting and gardening, and he knew every bird in the forest.” Kyle smiled, as he noted heads nodding in agreement. “Visits to the Biltmore gardens were frequent, and we went on other trips, too. He showed me where O. Henry had once lived, out in Weaverville, landmarks for Thomas Wolfe and the Carl Sandburg home. He once slid off Slippery Rock with me, and we admired the view from Blowing Rock. He showed me Grandfather Mountain where the highland games are played, and Cade’s Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where we watched bears lumber across our path. These things all inspired a boy who spent most of his year surrounded by mountains of skyscrapers rather than mountains covered with trees and mountain laurel, and Grandpa knew it. He wanted me to know his world and be able to imagine it when I was home, so far from him. And I did.

“He had a good philosophy for life too, and as a teenager, when I began to feel the urge to rebel in some way, he told me stories replete with life lessons. His eyes would twinkle when he got to the ‘punch line’ and he saw that I got it. Usually his parables were laced with the Golden Rule, the importance of being true to one’s self, the joy that comes from being generous, in business, life and love, the vital connection between family—I think he emphasized that because of the trouble between him and Dad—and that nothing—nothing—is as important as love itself.” Kyle glanced at Geneva.

“These were all tenets he embraced, as was obvious to anyone who ever knew him. I’ve tried hard to keep these lessons in mind as I’ve grown and gone into business for myself, and although I can’t say I have always paid attention to them, they’ve been in my heart as a compass for me to find my way back to the right path. I hope I’ve grown into a man he would be proud of. As proud as I was that he was my grandpa.”

Geneva felt a lump in her throat. What her uncle and the others had said about granddad had been touching, but hearing these things about her grandfather from someone she didn’t realize even knew him, was very moving. Kyle’s recollections of granddad were somewhat different from her own, but basically it was obvious that they had loved the same man. She could hear sniffling coming from several points behind her and knew that Kyle was touching a chord with more people than just her. She wondered why her grandfather had kept all of this such a secret. And here Kyle had kept in touch with him until he was eighteen. She wondered why he had stopped.

“Finally, although my visits stopped when I started college, Grandpa and I always kept in touch. We wrote constantly and exchanged gifts at Christmas.”

Geneva stared at Kyle in shock. It was like a movie she had seen on TV once where a man died and it came out that he had two families in different parts of the country. Her granddad had led a whole secret life right up until he died, evidently. She knew it was selfish, but she had always thought she was her grandfather’s favorite and now a small part of her felt betrayed. She still loved him fiercely, and missed him horribly, but here was a side of him that she hadn’t even known. Right along with a cousin she hadn’t known.

“While I was in the service and again after I started in business, I was able to travel. I got to Scotland several times and have been able to visit the town where he and grandma grew up. As he would say, it’s a bonny place, and very much like the area around here, which I’m sure is one reason he loved Asheville so much. I’m sorry he’s gone from our lives, but I’m glad he and grandma are together again, and I’m glad to be able to get to know, finally, the family I’ve missed knowing these many years. Thank you.”

When Kyle returned to his seat Geneva noticed moisture in the corners of his eyes. She leaned her arm against him to give some small comfort. The final hymn was announced and she nudged him with her elbow. He leaned down and under the brim of her hat. “That was very nice,” she whispered, suddenly aware with every nerve in her that his mouth was enticingly close. But he simply nodded and stood up again.

A little about me:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: Caldwell Institute for Public Safety

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I’d like to highlight a brand new charity this month, the Caldwell Institute for Public Safety

The institute was founded by Gianno Caldwell who has personal experience with crime and how it affects communities. His brother was shot and killed in Chicago two years ago. Chicago is a city I love and the crime rate in the city breaks my heart. Hopefully, Gianno’s new organization will make a difference in Chicago and every other city in the country where crime is a major issue.

“The Caldwell Institute for Public Safety is … dedicated to ensuring a justice system that prioritizes the safety and security of all law-abiding citizens by strategically supporting anti-crime candidates, advocating for legislation that makes communities safer, and providing comprehensive support services for victims of violent crime. We aim to create and foster solutions that effectively combat crime, support law enforcement, and uphold the principles of fairness and justice for every American.” Please comment and I will send a donation to the Institute. Thank you!

Blurb:

As family wage earner and pawn shop manager, Evelyn Collins thinks she’s kept a good watch on everything in her corner of the world. That is, until Harve Liddell, son of a local crime family, and Detective Joshua Rosen step up to show her just how much she’s missed.

Evelyn Collins inherits the family pawn shop and thinks things are starting to change for the better. Now, if she could keep her younger brother out of trouble, and handle two surprising suitors, things would be great.

Harve Liddell suffers from the reputation of his family’s involvement in organized crime, but Evvie Collins has always treated him as a friend. Far from friendship, he wants to set her blood afire with passion. When Harve’s ready to move, he finds Detective Joshua Rosen is, too.

For years Josh Rosen has wanted Evelyn in his bed, but stayed away because Jews were second class citizens in Minneapolis. He’s no longer willing to wait. The only thing blocking him is Harve Liddell, and the trouble Josh is sure he’s embroiled Evelyn’s brother in. He must find a way to trap Liddell without causing Evelyn pain before he can claim her.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Menage-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B009HA6D9Q/

Excerpt:
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in and have a drink. Our dinner reservations aren’t for half an hour yet.”

The valet opened Evelyn’s door and extended his hand to help her out. Then Joshua was at her side. He slid his arm around her waist and led her inside.

At a desk near the front door, a man in black tie looked up. “Rosen,” Joshua said. “We have reservations for eight, and we’ll be in the bar.”

“I’ll let you know when your table is ready.”

“Thank you.” Joshua guided her to the right, into a room lighted with candles and low illumination from wall sconces. The only point in the room with decent lighting was behind the bar, where two men busily mixed drinks for the many people seated at the oak bar and tables scattered across the floor. Joshua pointed out an empty booth against the far wall. “If you’ll wait there, I’ll order for us. What will you have?”

Evelyn rarely drank, but this evening’s adventure called for something celebratory. Her dad drank whiskey, but that was too strong for her. “A screwdriver, please.”

He nodded and turned to the bar.

The walls were a mosaic of the cities’ skylines, done in silver against black—sleek but comfortable somehow. A stage and dance floor were at the far end of the room. She didn’t realize Harve offered dancing, too, and live performances. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never come to his restaurant. It was far too pricey for her, but now that she saw the place, she realized that it said a great deal about him. Sleek and modern. Relaxed and comfortable. Efficient yet personalized. So many contrasts all rolled into one establishment, into one man.

She looked around. People were having a good time, laughing, talking. Drinks and cigarettes were in handy supply. She almost wished she smoked so she’d have something to do with her hands. Then Joshua came and slid in beside her. Taking one of her hands and thus ending her dilemma, he rested their hands on her thigh.

“The waitress will be here in a minute with our drinks.” He looked around, too. “What do you think of the place?”

“I like it. It’s relaxed and yet modern. I’m not sure how Harve pulled it off.”

“Yeah, old Harve is a real wunderkind.”

The thick sarcasm threw her for a minute, and then she laughed. “You two are like oil and water. Is there anything you agree on?”

He faced her. His black eyes glittered like polished onyx. She blushed under the intensity of his stare, but she couldn’t turn away. His hand tightened over hers, and he rubbed the backs of his knuckles on her dress, at her thigh.

“I’m pretty sure there’s one thing.”

“Your drinks, sir.” The waitress bent low, showing off a generous cleavage. To Evelyn’s surprise, Joshua seemed not to notice. He tipped the woman, handed Evelyn her drink, and focused on her once again.

“To many more evenings,” he said.

“I’ll go along with that,” she replied. The vodka burned on the way down, but the orange juice sweetened the sip. Her second taste was smoother, and the third, downright refreshing.

“What happened to that pin you had in the case yesterday?” Joshua asked.

The alcohol spun through her system, made her settle into the soft leather banquette seat and feel warm all over. “What pin?”

“The one in the front display case. The circular one with the stones set into it. It wasn’t there when I stopped by earlier today, and I just wondered if the owner came back for it.”

Evelyn took another sip and then examined her glass. It was nearly empty. How had that happened? She blinked and focused on Joshua. “Circular stones pinned in my display case?”

Joshua smiled and removed her glass. “You don’t drink very often, do you?”

She plopped her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm. “Nope. Maybe if I had a friend to drink with.”

“I’ll be your friend, Evelyn,” Joshua said quietly.

She swiveled her chin in her palm and squinted at him. “I like that, Joshmea.”

He brushed a tendril of hair from the corner of her mouth to behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, Evelyn.”

She started to giggle. Good God! When had she ever giggled? No one with brass balls giggles. And she giggled again.“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Oh, Joshea, I’m just avmerage. You are handsome, though. You and Harve both, just damned handsome.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops! I said damn.”

Joshua started laughing. “Wow. You’re in trouble. Shall I go and find some soap?” He looked over her shoulder and then nodded at someone. “Our table’s ready. Are you able to walk, Evelyn?”

She sat up straight and waved her hand. “Oh sure. I learned how to walk a long time ago.” He laughed again. What had she said that was so funny?

She scooted to the edge of the banquette, but somehow her legs didn’t obey the command to stand. Joshua held out his hand, the sweetheart, and she grabbed hold. Rising to her feet, she wobbled in her heels for a second or two and then steadied herself. How far was it to their table? She’d stay on her feet if it killed her. With great confidence, she stepped off.

And fell flat on her ass.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: United Through Reading

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

United Through Reading is a unique charity that should be near and dear to every author’s heart because it seeks to instill the love of books and reading in children of all ages through reading time with their military parent. Their mission: “United Through Reading strengthens military families’ literacy, emotional bonds, and well-being through the power of reading together at every age, no matter the distance.”

Because of parent deployments, over a quarter million children are left at home, meaning lots of story times are missed—for both the child and parent. Story time is typically at the end of the day when quiet and comfort take priority and parent and child have a moment for closeness. With United Through Reading, prerecorded videos can be watched by the child (along with their own copy of the recorded book) whenever they want that special closeness to their deployed parent. “Being read to by a parent helps military children feel like their parents are closer to home, reducing stress and anxiety levels and making it easier to cope while their parents are away.”

Charity Navigator gives United Through Reading a top rating. I think this is a great charity. Please comment!

Blurb:
Bride of the Pryde (Jenna Stewart)

DAT agent Susan McAllister escapes Earth with killers in hot pursuit. She normally runs toward danger not away, and she likes controlling her own fate, not relying on three strange men and an irreverent cyberbot. Skilled and experienced, she doesn’t believe there’s any way the three crewmen of the cargo ship Erik’s Pryde can help her.

Captain John Erik thinks the sexy, headstrong passenger is nothing but trouble, but he also knows she needs help. And not being men to shrink from adventure, he’s convinced that he and his crew are the ones to provide it. When they’re infected by an illegal drug that releases inhibitions, the crew of the Pryde shows they are men who not only can fight, but can satisfy a woman’s every fantasy.

It’s no surprise when Susan discovers that being a member of the Pryde’s crew has unexpected, lasting benefits.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Bride-Pryde-Siren-Publishing-Menage-ebook/dp/B007NIR4HO/

Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bride-of-the-pryde-dee-s-knight/1109689352

Excerpt:
The smell hit Susan McAllister first. The sharp scent of iron, immediately recognizable, stung her nostrils and made her gag. Then she noticed the door, normally locked at all times, hung open a crack.

She’d been ready to call out that she’d brought back French pastries from the restaurant where she enjoyed an early lunch but instead dropped the white bakery bag on the back steps. Removing her Renthaur X-89 laser pistol from her oversized shoulder bag, she inched forward and released the safety. She eased open the door and stepped inside and then pushed it nearly closed. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from sunlight to the dim interior.

The office fronted as a real estate agency but actually served as Centre District’s Domestic Anti-Terrorism headquarters. Susan had arrived that morning from the global headquarters in Mt. Saussat. In fact, if not for the fact that she never ate while flying and wanted an early lunch upon arrival, she would have been here for whatever shit had gone down.

Hugging the wall, she edged toward the workroom where her close friend and office manager, Lisle Hamilton, had set up the hologram generator, coffeepot, and storage shelving that helped form their cover of handling real estate. Behind an encrypted-lock vault door and out of sight, secure phones and code-deciphering, sub-particle computers were used for the real business of the storefront.

The Centre City office took a lot of ribbing in the Agency because of their cover. The joke was, what’s more boring than a DAT agent on desk duty? A realtor. What’s deadly boring? A DAT gent on desk duty posing as a realtor.

Deadly boring?The overwhelming scent of blood seemed to prove it. Criminy. What in hell happened?

Susan dropped to a crouch at the corner where the back hall entered the workroom. Pistol aimed up and grasped with two hands in classic shooter pose, she slowly leaned forward and peeked into the workroom.

Blood had begun to congeal where it covered the floor. Mark Nichols, who she’d just met that morning, lay on his back, his right hand inside his jacket pocket as though reaching for his weapon. Anne Barnewell lay face down. The size of the hole in the back of her head indicated a Succher 380, the weapon of choice for big-time drug dealers.

Also for cops’ personal weapons. The thought ran quickly through her mind and left just as fast.

The workroom connected to the main office by a swinging door of louvered wood, reminiscent of mid-twentieth-century architecture. From under the door she saw the body of Kyle Angustino, the son of one of Lisle’s friends and an actual real estate intern who had nothing to do with the DAT. Six people worked in the office, including Kyle, five of whom were DAT agents. Susan had no hope any of them were alive unless, like her, they’d been out of the office when hell struck.

The place appeared to be empty, but Susan didn’t change her position. Instead, she examined everything in her line of sight and listened with an intensity that had her shoulders tight with tension. Peering along the wall to the left she scrunched her brows in worry. The vault door stood ajar.

The only person in the office who had the combination was Lisle. A woman’s foot extended out the door, her burgundy shoe half-off. Lisle!

Her friend had bragged about the “killer burgundy pumps with little gold bows” when Susan had called to make arrangements to use one of the office cubicles for the week she would be in Centre City. They’d gone through Agency training together, and their paths crossed regularly. Later she would grieve for Lisle, but right now she needed to keep her wits about her and her emotions in check.

The bell over the front door tinkled, indicating someone entering from the street. A woman said, “Here’s a box for—Oh, dear God, what is this? What’s going on here?” There was no answer. Then, “No, please, no! Oh—”

Susan heard the unmistakable sound of the Succher firing and then a loud noise as something fell to the floor.

“What the hell?” A man pushed the vault door farther open. All that showed was a cuff-linked, white-shirted arm and a hand with long fingers. “What’s going on out there?”

“Nothing,” came a male voice from the front. “I didn’t have the keys to lock the door. I thought pulling the blinds would be enough to make people think we were closed. Forgot about delivery people.”

“Goddamn it. Go through Hamilton’s purse, for Christ’s sake, and find the keys.”

“Okay,” the guy in the front grumbled.

“Jesus, I have to do everything,” Vault Man said.

Susan pulled back. The lead guy knew Lisle’s name. Because he knew her or because of information gleaned while there? And how did he know about the vault room? Had he come to the office because of it, or had he and his buddy happened into the office and thought the heavy door hid more than it did? She dismissed that idea right away because really, who in the world robbed a realtor’s office? So, assuming they already knew about the vault and Lisle, the conclusion was ominous—the murderers were associated with DAT.

Quiet footsteps alerted Susan to the emergence of the man from the vault. He carried her suitcase to the table, holding the hologram generator. Lisle had suggested she leave the suitcase in the vault and out of traffic areas when she arrived earlier. She hadn’t given a second thought to the security of her things when she dashed out to eat. Now, unceremoniously, Vault Man pulled out the contents and dumped them on the floor.

“Any hints on where McAllister is staying?” the second man asked.

They’re looking for me?How could that be? Only a few people knew she was there.

“Nothing yet. Lisle wouldn’t say. Or maybe she didn’t know. I thought I might find a hint in here.”

Susan edged forward, trying to identify either man. She could see Vault Man from the back. He’d put on a dark suit jacket, wore black shoes and a fedora over short brown hair. He looked to be about five feet ten or eleven. The second man leaned just inside the doorway separating the two rooms, but Vault Man hid him from view. His shoes were shiny and his pants were light gray. That was all she could see—which was as good as nothing.

She pulled back from the wall’s edge. At most, the men stood ten feet away. If either of them looked her way at the wrong time or decided to check the back parking area, she’d be caught like a virgin between two punks on Pheron.

Pheron, the newest designer street drug—and the latest form of domestic terrorism just hitting Earth cities—had brought her to Centre City, where the crime rate soared right along with the supply of the drug that released a person’s deepest desires and washed away their inhibitions. The effects of the drug sickened her. So did her prospects, if the two murderers in the other room found her.

Rising to her feet, she continued straining to hear everything the men said. Vault Man asked if Succher Guy had checked the hotel where she usually stayed in Centre City. The answer was affirmative but that she hadn’t arrived yet. And she hadn’t because that morning Lisle had invited Susan to stay with her instead. The two had a lot to catch up on, and not all of it business. Lisle had finally met Mr. Right, and they were talking marriage. Susan simply hadn’t called to cancel her hotel reservation yet.

Vault Man ordered Succher Guy to stake out the hotel and to call when he had Susan in sight. Succher Guy grumbled a reply, sounding not too happy to be relegated to the hotel lobby. The bell chimed again with the opening and closing of the street door, and then silence descended on the office.

Susan slowly sidestepped along the wall toward the back door. So intense was her focus that she jumped when her suitcase flew through the air and crashed into the flavored-water dispenser before hitting the floor.

“Goddamn it, McAllister, where the fuck are you?” Vault Man grumbled.

From her right, the back door opened. “Hey, Susan,” Buddy Knowlton called out with a smile. He held out the white bag from the steps. “Did you drop something?”

Two things happened at once. Footsteps pounded from the workroom toward the short hallway where Susan froze momentarily in shock, and she then leapt toward Buddy. Knocking him back out the door, she yelled, “Get out, Buddy! Move, move, move!”

They tripped down the steps. Buddy, looking confused and shocked at first, gathered his wits and withdrew his weapon from his suit jacket. She ran, hell-bent, for the street, assuming he was hot on her heels. The back door to the office slammed open. A laser bullet whizzed past her ear, missing her by an ando-width.

Ffttt! Another laser shot just missed her head. A grunt came from behind. She slowed enough to turn. Continuing with back steps, she saw Buddy on the ground. Had he tripped? Was he hit? Hesitating could kill her, but could she leave a fellow DAT agent behind?

He waved his arms, signaling her to go on. “Go!” he yelled. She didn’t like it, but she spun toward the street and kept on, not looking, not thinking, running on instinct alone. Around the corner of the building, she sprinted for the intersection and the hotel across the street. Cabs lined up in front, particularly at lunchtime.

“She’s headed for The Centre!” Vault Man shouted. “Converge there.”

Reviews:

“…desires are fulfilled and emotions are awakened. BRIDE OF THE PRYDEis an imaginative futuristic adventure overflowing with limitless fiery heat.”

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: Project DYNAMO

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

Project Dynamo “…is a veteran-led, donor-funded organization on a mission to deliver hope and safety in the chaos of war and conflict zones where the U.S. government does not have a presence.

“Project DYNAMO launched in the wake of the U.S. pulling out of Afghanistan, leaving behind not just American citizens but countless allies in dire straits.

“Fast forward two years, and the story’s much the same, only the locations have changed – Ukraine, Sudan, the ravages of Hurricane Ian, the fires in Maui, the unrest in Haiti – you name it, we’ve been there.

“To date, nearly 7,000 men, women, children, and yes, even their beloved pets – have been pulled from the brink by Project DYNAMO. That’s 7,000 stories of hope, all lives given another shot, all because we step in where others can’t or won’t.

“We’re the ones working in “The Grey Space,” when the government is unable or unwilling to provide assistance. We’re about action, about making the impossible happen, because at the end of the day, it’s not just about the rescues; it’s about humanity.”

Please leave a comment and I’ll donate to help Project Dynamo continue their work. Thank you!

Blurb:

Another erotic fairy tale with Princess Katherine and Prince Cole.Susan Baer is not only a successful businesswoman and founder of Baer Hugs, health centers for women, she’s also beautiful. But she hasn’t always been that way. She’d spent her teen years lost, lonely and anxious, wondering if she would ever find a place to fit. Now, with those years behind her, she longs to find her special person. Though she’s not the overweight, nearsighted girl with braces anymore, she’s still lonely and there are no prospects in sight to share a happy ever after.

Suddenly, three golden-haired men come into her life. All successful, all gorgeous. And all with their own unique problems. One is too rough and hard in his treatment; one is too soft and wants her to take charge. The last is…well, let’s just say he’s not available.

Will Susan ever find the one man who’s “just right?”

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited Baer and the Three Goldilocks

Excerpt:
It was five minutes before nine o’clock in the morning at Baer Hugs, a health club for women. No need to check the big Seth Thomas clock on the wall for confirmation, Susan could set her watch by them. At the same time each weekday morning, every trainer, aerobics instructor and nutritionist, who wasn’t involved in a class, found a way to observe the parking lot and front entrance. That’s when Duncan Morrison arrived for work.

Not that she blamed them for wanting to stare. He was gorgeous. Over six feet of rippling muscle, the smooth grace of a ballet dancer and shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the world. Make that two worlds. They were broad. She knew because she saw them flex and settle each day when he took off his suit jacket. It did such things to her insides that she almost missed the dimples deep enough to swim in or the way the slightest amusement could make his lips turn up in a smile and light the deep, rich blue of his eyes.

Yes, his shoulders were a distraction. Almost distraction enough to keep her mind off the way his blond hair tipped his ears and had started to curl against his nape.

The difference was Susan Baer didn’t have to stand around and watch Duncan make his way in from the parking lot in order to quench the lust in her heart. He was her assistant. She could gaze at him all day. Nonetheless, this morning she stood where the hall gave way to the lobby of the building and watched, right along with everyone else.

Sighing, she gave in for a moment to the natural tug on her emotions, the strong need to share her life with someone, to end the loneliness she’d always felt. She wanted to love and be loved, and now, at this point in life, she was ready and able.

In the business world, all she’d wanted to prove, she’d proven. A good portion of what she’d wanted to accomplish, she’d successfully completed. But when it came to personal goals, she hadn’t even begun.

So, considering where she’d started and where she was now, it was grossly unfair that she wanted to do more than gaze at Duncan. It was harder and harder to ignore the tingle that radiated through her each time they touched. Almost impossible to keep the longing out of her voice when they talked about anything non-business related. And she wondered how he missed the fact that she wandered into his office to ask questions she already knew the answers to. Undeniably, the attraction was driving her crazy. Yet she had to remember that he was an employee.

And, of course, there was the annoying fact of his being gay.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: DAV Charitable Service Trust

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

In my normal quest to find organizations that benefit the military and service families, I don’t think I’ve ever donated to the DAV—the Disabled American Veterans Charitable Service Trust. This charity rates a 100%, 4-star rating from Charity Navigator. The DAV Charitable Service Trust is: “dedicated to one, single purpose: empowering veterans to lead high-quality lives with respect and dignity. To carry out this responsibility, the DAV Charitable Service Trust supports physical and psychological rehabilitation programs; enhances research and mobility for veterans with amputations and spinal cord injuries; benefits aging veterans; aids and shelters homeless veterans; and evaluates and addresses the needs of veterans wounded in recent wars and conflicts. For those of every era, the Trust also supports programs that benefit the caregivers and families of ill and injured veterans.”

Please comment! For each comment I will donate to this worthy organization.

Desire Me Again

Blurb:
The hopeless romantic believes that a soulmate exists for each of us. That there is one person who makes us feel how good it is to love them. For some couples, things trigger them to push that love away. They find out too late they’ve lost true-love. Sometimes genuine love deserves a second-chance at the happy ending that eluded them the first time.

Desire Me Again is an eclectic assortment of short stories exploring a second-chance at love. The collection is as diverse as the authors who wrote them. Here’s a chance to read the work of talented writers you may not have read before. Within these pages, there are blends of tender, often moving and thought-provoking stories.

Featuring: Annabel Allan, Patricia Elliott, R.M. Olivia, Carol Schoenig, Virginia Wallace, Gibby Campbell, Dee S. Knight, Alice Renaud, Jan Selbourne, Zia Westfield

Buy link:
Amazon

Excerpt:
From Second Chance:

“Tom,” Mrs. Henderson exclaimed. Like everyone he knew in their town, she stretched the one-syllable word into two. Tah-um. Until he’d joined the Corps he didn’t really know what people meant when they talked about southern accents. Now he considered the soft consonants and extended vowels charming. Part of being home.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tom saw Sandy stick her head around the kitchen wall. “Hey,” he called out to her. Then concentrating on her mother, he held out a bouquet. “These are for you, Mrs. Henderson.”

She flushed like a schoolgirl when she took the flowers. “How did you know that tulips are my favorite?”

He hadn’t.  He’d asked the florist to put together something cheerful that an older lady might like. He hoped the brightly colored blooms might bring a smile to Sandy, too.

“Just a guess,” he answered.

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Henderson backed up and held the door wide.

He stepped into a living room that had seen very little change in the last two decades. It was neat but held a slight whiff of shabbiness. Mrs. Henderson would probably call it comfortable rather than shabby. Tom wondered what Sandy thought of it.

Finally, the woman in question emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. The night was warm and she looked as though she’d just finished doing dishes. Her hair was damp and stuck to her forehead, and a light sheen of sweat clung to her cheeks. His groin tightened when he noticed that her shorts hugged her hips and her sleeveless blouse was slightly dampened, too, showing her white bra through the thin fabric. His mind filled with ways he could make her body slick with sweat, the ways he could make her much more than warm.

“I know I said we should try to get together before I leave, but I didn’t actually mean tonight.”

“I’m sorry to barge in, but I wanted to ask you to dinner tomorrow night.” Before Sandy could form “No, thank you,” as her lips where shaping up to do, he interjected, “And your mom, too.”

Her mother’s eyes widened and she slapped the hand holding the tulips to her chest. “Oh, my! Sandra, we have a beau!”

Sandy smiled. Then she turned to him. “I don’t know. We have so much to do here.”

“Sandra, please. It will be so much fun. I haven’t had dinner out since your father last took me, and that’s been…at least three years.” She turned to Tom. “Could we go to that cafeteria up on the highway?”

Tom laughed. “We can go anywhere you want.”

Mrs. Henderson snapped her head back toward Sandy. He knew the minute Sandy gave in. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she smiled at her mother. “If Tom is willing to make every other man in town jealous by escorting the lovely Henderson women out to dinner, who am I to stand in his way?”

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: Shriners Hospitals for Children

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. Thanks for your help and your participation!

This month’s charity is one near and dear to my heart: the Shriners Hospitals for Children. https://www.shrinershospitalsforchildren.org/shc Charity Navigator has awarded Shriners Hospitals “with its prestigious Four Star Charity award. Such distinction recognizes Shriners Hospitals for Children for its sound fiscal management and commitment to accountability and transparency.”

When I was ten-months-old, a polio epidemic struck Sioux City, Iowa and the surrounding area. Polio was not at all uncommon in the early 1950s, but this epidemic was horrible. I had been walking at nine-months. Then one morning I was crying in my crib and when Mom came to get me, I couldn’t stand. We have never figured out why I contracted the disease and no one else in my family did.

While my case of polio wasn’t that severe. I didn’t die and plenty of people during that epidemic did. If not for the Shriners Hospitals for Crippled Children (as it was known then), however, I might never have danced or run or played hopscotch. Or walked down the aisle to the man I love. A few years ago, a girl asked why I limp, and I told her that I’d had polio. “Polio?” she said. “You must be really old!” I laughed at the time but with the incidence of polio increasing lately, it’s not so funny. Children must be vaccinated against this deadly disease or else the Shrine Hospitals will be needed again to treat the results of this terrible virus.

The Shriners Hospitals never charge a family for any medical care. When I went into the hospital for surgery, I was generally there for a a month or even two. During that time, they housed me, fed me, schooled me, entertained me, and provided all medical care, before and after surgery—all for free. Our only responsibility was to get to the hospital and home. I received the very best of care in a safe and clean environment, with the best medical staff, and I will be forever grateful.

Please leave a comment and I will make a donation to an organization for which I have lasting gratitude. Thank you!

Let’s celebrate a wedding at New Year! One Woman Only is a story of second chances and the fulfillment of true love. What better way to end one year and start the next?

As one of a set of triplets, Jonah Goodman has always stood out as the least academic—and the last one to take the world, or commitment, seriously. Thing is, that’s not really who he is. But who can he convince of that? Not his family, who see him as they always have. And maybe not his one love, the sweetheart he left behind in high school but with whom he is now sharing an erotic holiday. Will he get his second chance to prove to Kelly that he is a loving man who wants more than a sensual few days, but a real relationship with the woman he lost once and doesn’t want to lose again? With that chance and Kelly’s love, Jonah knows that a “good man” can become a better man.

Buy link:
One Woman Only is on KU

Excerpt:

“May I have this dance?”

Kelly turned at the sound of Jonah’s voice behind her. Dinner had ended. All three of the boys had given best man speeches and Eve had even given a very creditable matron of honor speech, considering she had only known Marilyn and Caleb a short time. Lots of toasts had been raised and finally the live band had struck up the music. Caleb led his bride onto the floor for a foxtrot—a dance more than half of the guests had no idea how to do, including her.

Facing Jonah she sighed inwardly at how scrumptious he looked. Sure, his face was pretty much displayed on his brothers’ heads, too, but there was something different about Jonah. His nose was just a little crooked from when Bobby Hendricks had broken it in ninth grade and his eyes held an especially bright sparkle in his eyes when he smiled. Maybe… Well, she didn’t know what caused the difference between Jonah and his brothers. Whatever it was, she had never been fooled by the so-called identical nature of the identical triplets. She’d wanted to be his girl since elementary school. Thought she would be in high school. And then forced every last thought of him from her mind from senior year on.

Until now.

“I don’t know how to foxtrot.”

He shrugged. “Who does except those over fifty?” He glanced at his folks, still alone on the dancefloor, although a few couples were wandering out to join them now. “We can pretend.”

She mentally compared standing on the sidelines alone now that Mama Rio left the party, or being held in Jonah’s arms. Smiling, Kelly held out her hands. “Just don’t step on my toes, Jonah Goodman, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Together they walked onto the dancefloor. He took her right hand in his left and placed his right hand on her waist. Fortunately for them, the music changed to a slow tempo. Kelly laid her head on Jonah’s shoulder, and he tugged her closer as they swayed to the music.

“This is nice,” he murmured.

“Yes it is,” she replied. So very nice. He smelled good. Beneath the light citrus fragrance of his aftershave was a slight whiff of pure man with maybe a twinge of motor oil or something so Jonah it brought tears to her eyes.

He rubbed a path up to her shoulder blades and gave a squeeze. “You fit me perfectly, Kelly.”

“I do?”

“You sure do. I think our hearts can feel each other beat.”

Kelly chuckled. “Smooth talker. Face to face like this our hearts are on opposite sides.”

“Hey! I’m trying to be romantic here.”

She sighed. “Keep on. It’s appreciated.”

Author Biography:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Social Media Links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Charity Sunday: 1 Jar Foundation

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

For two years Jack and I lived just outside Chicago and his brother and sister-in-law still live in the city. It breaks our hearts to see the state the city is in and hear about the violence that kills so many, especially the innocents like Janari. To help a bit, we’d like to donate this Christmas season to 1 Jar Foundation (www.1jarfoundation.org) so some little kids can receive gifts. 1 Jar’s mission is: “Protecting and securing a purposeful future for our kids and all youth!” Working to ensure a safe environment for Chicago kids to grow and develop into productive adults, Janari’s mom and family have moved from tragedy to a giving, loving resource for children of all walks of life. We’re happy to give to such a worthy cause for a city we love. Please comment and help us!

Finding a Christmas Miracle by Jan Selbourne and Anne Krist

Blurb:
Two exceptional novellas featuring two men engulfed in a war no one understands or wants—Vietnam. They’re both hoping for a miracle with little expectation of finding it.

Jan Selbourne lends her award-winning writing talent to A Miracle in the Outback. Nick Saunders is in a hurry to escape a family argument and also to return to his Army base in Wagga Wagga. He doesn’t need another complication. Rachel Garth is a woman with a broken down car, a small girl, a deadly snake, and a baby on the way. She needs Nick’s help. He doesn’t know it, but he needs hers, too.

In award-winning author Anne Krist’s The Miracle of Coming Home, Army PFC Tom Stabler wins a trip to his parents’ Nebraska farm for Christmas. He needs the time away from the war. Lately, he’s been feeling lost and too alone. Trouble is, being home is almost as bad. Then Susan Swensen arrives, just as sweet and pretty as he remembers. Can Susan help him find himself again, or will it take a miracle?

This December, Finding a Christmas Miracle will be released in paperback.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Finding-Christmas-Miracle-historical-novellas-ebook/dp/B09MR8PKYT  

Excerpt:
Miracle in the Outback

Noelle’s face turned red as she let out another loud wail.

Ellie pointed to the crib. “Mum, Noelle’s crying.”

“I know, I know.” Rachel closed the sliding glass doors and pushed the hair out of her eyes.

 Another louder squeal.

 “Mummy, Noelle.”

“I can hear her, Ellie,” Rachel snapped, and went to the sink to wash her hands. “The whole bloody street can hear her.” She picked up the little noise machine and felt the wet clothing. Pulling off the soaked nappy, she reached for a clean one to wrap around the squirming baby.

“Scream, feed, and pee,” she muttered as she opened her blouse. Like an alarm clock, every three and half hours, day and night. So different from quiet, placid Ellie and she was so tired. As soon as the little piranha finished feeding, she’d give Ellie colouring pencils and toys and try to snatch an hour’s sleep.

Rachel rested her head against the back of the sofa and reached over to Ellie. “You are such a good girl, come sit next to me. When we go shopping tomorrow, I’ll buy you a present for helping me with this noisy baby.”

Twice a week, she pushed the pram, with Ellie sitting on the toddler’s seat, to the shopping centre. Always early to avoid the heat and between feeds so Noelle would, hopefully, sleep. Then wash the pile of baby clothes and nappies. She’d take a few more dollars from her stash and buy more disposables.

Fifteen minutes later, Noelle had fallen asleep against her breast. She gently laid her in the crib, turned on the fan, and lay on the sofa.

 A shrill noise jerked her awake. Blinking, she sat up and rubbed her eyes as the front doorbell shrilled again. No way was she climbing the stairs to see who it is. They can come back later when her mother was home. Probably the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Last week it was the Mormons and she’d told them where to go in very blunt language.

She lay back down and felt herself drifting off when footsteps on the side path made her sit up. Two men in suits were walking towards the sliding glass doors. They looked around the back garden before knocking.

Now alarmed, Rachel hesitated before opening the door a couple of inches. The two men produced ID badges.

“Rachel Garth?” The tall man with piercing eyes asked.

 “Yes.”

 “Detective Thomas and”—his hand flicked to the man beside him—“Detective Jones. Sydney City Police. We’d like to talk to you.”

The Miracle of Coming Home

Susan Swensen flew into the small three-bedroom house she shared with Carol Buley and Mildred Hammersmith. “I won!” she shouted. “I won, I won, I won!!”

Carol stepped out of her bedroom and into the hallway, brushing her hair and already In her blue flannel pajamas. “Won what?”

Susan dropped an envelope on the scarred coffee table and threw off her wool cape, tossing it onto the used couch dressed up in a winter slipcover. A Christmas tree displayed prominently over the center cushion. Brightly wrapped gifts beneath a midnight-blue sky scattered with stars filled out the rest of the space. This was the second year the women had used it to hide the worn arms and cushions of the sofa, and it saddened Susan somewhat that it would be the last. The three would graduate from nursing school in June and go their separate ways.

She reached to remove the pins that secured her white cap to her blonde curls and then slid the bobby pins onto the edge of the cap before placing it carefully on the table. Then she picked up the envelope and removed the letter she’d read three times already.

“Susan Swensen. This is to inform you that your submission to the Home for Christmas contest sponsored by WCHI Radio Chicago has won one of seven prizes. WCHI has confirmed that PFC Thomas J. Stabler will be transferred from Saigon, South Vietnam to Norfolk, Nebraska (via Omaha, Nebraska) on or about December 16, 1970 until December 27, 1970. The Department of Defense is relaying this information to PFC Stabler’s commanding officers and to him. WCHI is happy to be a part of this Christmas homecoming. Thank you for your heartfelt submission. Merry Christmas! John Marbury, President, WCHI Radio.”

Susan looked up at Carol with a smile that felt like it might split her face. “Tom is going to be able to come home for Christmas.”

Reviews:
“Both stories grab your attention quickly and carry you along with the fast moving plot lines! Both main characters are flawed perhaps due to the service to their country! One saves a young mother about to deliver her second baby alone in the outback. The other brings the Vietnam war home! Kudos to both ladies for their exemplary stories!” 5-star

“Two fabulous reads with relatable characters and heartwarming emotion. Both stories dealt with war but we saw the personal side of it and the way the horror impacts normal people. … I was rooting for both couples to find their Happily Ever After.

“Both novellas are stirringly heartwarming holiday romances.” 5 Stars”

“Well done, both ladies.” 5 stars

“For heart-warming Christmas romance, the two novellas in Finding a Christmas Miracle certainly fit the bill.” 5 stars

“Two wonderful books. … I enjoyed every turn of the pages. So good to feel the love Always in awe of this wonderful talent Of putting words to paper. Looking forward to the next novellas.” 5 Stars

“YOU CAN’T GO WRONG READING THESE TWO BOOKS!!” 5 Stars

Author Jan Selbourne:
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

Author Anne Krist:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Jan author links:
Website
Twitter
Facebook
LinkedIn
Newsletter:

Anne author links:
Website
Blog
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads
Newsletter
LinkedIn
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Available now from Lisabet Sarai: Serpent’s Kiss!

When a woman atoning for past sins heals the human avatar of an ancient god, she’s drawn into a perilous dance of destiny and desire.
From the first, Dr. Elena Navarro senses that the wounded man she discovers outside the gate of her rural clinic is not an ordinary mortal. With his chest ripped open, Jorge Pélikal still demonstrates unnatural strength and power. Elena is irresistibly attracted to Jorge, although he warns her their coupling could open the gates of chaos and cost her life. Despite his dire predictions, they fall in love. Gradually Elena comes to understand that Jorge is a supernatural player in a cosmic drama that will determine the fate of the earth and of mankind—and that even if he triumphs in his apocalyptic struggle with his nemesis, she may lose him forever.

Note: Serpent’s Kiss was previously published by Totally Entwined. This new edition has been re-edited, revised and expanded.
Reader Advisory: This book may not be appropriate for individuals with a fear of snakes.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1317-serpents-kiss/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CL2HPVV4

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CL2HPVV4

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1465062

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/serpents-kiss-lisabet-sarai/1017488008?ean=2940166119209

Kobo  – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/serpent-s-kiss-26

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6469359665

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/199721219-serpent-s-kiss

Add on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/serpent-s-kiss-by-lisabet-sarai-2023-10-15

Excerpt:
“Doctora!” The voice rose out of the darkness—the voice of the man who had vanished that morning from a sealed room, leaving no trace but a brilliant, multi-colored feather. As if conjured by her thoughts, Jorge Pélikal emerged from the shadows. He waited at the foot of the steps, mutely requesting her permission to ascend.

He looked far healthier than when she had seen him last. His step was firm and strong, with no indication that he was in pain. His hair cascaded over his shoulders, gleaming in the light of the rising moon. She could not see his face—he was still too distant—but she could smell him. Vanilla and wood-smoke—the same scents that were evoked by the mysterious token she had found under the bed.

He was dressed in rough-woven trousers and a peasant’s cotton tunic, all in white. His skin, in contrast, was a deep cocoa-brown.

Elena’s heart rose into her throat. He was beautiful. He was dangerous—she sensed this—not because of what he might do, but because of who he was. But who exactly was he?

“Jorge! Why did you run away?” She gestured for him to join her on the porch. In an instant, he stood in front of her, a half-smile on his full lips.

He grasped her hands. His skin was cool now, and moist like the jungle night. His fever is gone, she thought gratefully. Joy bubbled up in her chest. She almost laughed. She had thought that she would never see him again.

“I had no choice. I was in grave danger. And by remaining in your clinic, I was placing you in danger.”

“Moving when your chest has been ripped open and is held together by nothing more than a few feeble stitches wasn’t exactly the safest thing to do,” she scolded. “But I’m happy to see that you’re so much better.”

“Much better, thanks to you…Elena.” He squeezed her hands. Desire raced through her, sharp, irrational, irresistible. “I’m sorry that I had to return and place you at risk once again. But I left something behind. Something important.”

“I know. I have it, hidden safely away.”

He searched her face, apparently trying to determine how much she knew about the feather. “Give it to me, then, and I’ll leave you in peace.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No—I don’t want you to go. I’ll give you the feather, but only if you promise to spend the night with me.” Listening to herself, Elena was appalled. What was she saying?

She had not planned this. She was keeping the feather for him and had honestly intended to return it. But now she wanted him, with a single-mindedness that drove out all reason. She would do anything to satisfy this uncharacteristic craving. She could not let him escape again.

He cupped her cheek in one of his strong brown hands. Elena nearly swooned.

“You don’t know what you’re asking. It’s not possible.”

“I know what I want. What I need. And I won’t return the feather until you give it to me.”

He removed his hand, leaving her mourning for his touch. “I could force you.” Though his voice was soft, his words rang with power.

“Go ahead and try.” Elena’s words were defiant, but there were tears in her eyes.

“You don’t understand what you ask. If we couple, you and I, we will open the gates of chaos.” He hovered close, leaning over her, gazing into her eyes. His scent made her dizzy.

“I don’t care. So be it.”

“No. I dare not, Señora.” Taking a step backward, he glanced around the porch, as if seeking a way to push past her and enter the clinic. She moved to block the door, legs apart and hands on her hips.

Perplexity marked his handsome features. She didn’t doubt he was strong enough to physically overpower her, but he seemed reluctant to do so.

“Please.” Now his voice held a note of supplication. “Be reasonable, Elena.”

“Don’t you want me?”

“What I want does not matter. I must do my duty and refuse you. The tasks before me will be difficult enough without the distraction of love.”

Love? That wasn’t what she was asking for, was it? The desire that raged through her seemed as far from love as a fierce hurricane from a gentle spring shower. At the same time, her intuition told her that a single night in Jorge’s arms would never be enough.

Introductory Essay:
Embracing the Shadows

What makes paranormal romance so popular? I’ve been pondering this question for a while. Readers, it seems, are happy to consume as many tales about vampires, shape shifters, ghosts and psychics as we authors can produce. You’d think that they’d get bored, but that doesn’t seem to happen. Why not?

I’ve got a theory. We’re all tempted by the dark side.

The realms of paranormal romance are vast, but most books offer characters with dual natures, torn between normal humanity and―otherness. The “other” aspect conveys special powers―unnatural strength, heightened sensation, hidden knowledge―but always at a price. The characters suffer because of their power. Blood-drinkers and half-beasts are ravaged by conscience because they maim or kill. Immortals bear the weight of lonely, isolated centuries and the pain of watching mortal companions wither and die.

In my novella Fin d’Espoir, vampire Etienne de Rémorcy haunts the forest around the ruined plantation of his former mistress, guilty, bitter and alone. He has sworn to never again taste human blood, but when the woman he rescues begs him to take her, he cannot resist. My prescient hero Kyle in At the Margins of Madness can see the future but the fury of his visions drives him insane. In my new release Serpent’s Kiss, Jorge Pélikal is the incarnation of an ancient god but each time he makes love to his human mate he comes close to killing her.

In the paranormal genre, power and darkness go hand in hand. Yet somehow, we are attracted to the darkness. We brush the suffering aside; we want to feel the power. A vampire isn’t sexy when he’s fighting against his blood craving.  Only when he sweeps his victim into his arms and buries his fangs in her flesh does he make us breathless and moist.

How many books have you read where the human hero or heroine willingly submits to “the change”, the transformation that will make them “other” as well? How many characters, in contrast, manage to resist the pull of the dark side?  Not many. Normal mortal life seems absurd, bland and empty after you’ve tasted power. This is especially true because sex on the dark side in erotic romance is always more intense, more extreme, transcending the limits that bind ordinary humans.

Even a villain with supernatural powers tempts us. A well-written antagonist should invite enough identification that the reader can understand what moves him to do evil. The best bad guys are ambiguous, able to justify their deeds so well that they draw our sympathy. They dazzle us with their logic and their beauty, until we can’t see their wickedness. Lucifer still looks like an angel as he bargains for your soul. Stefan Aries, my villain in At the Margins of Madness, is handsome and brilliant enough to make Kyle want him, despite his being a murderer. Jorge’s evil twin Teodoro Remorros is suave, handsome, and terribly convincing as he tries to persuade Elena to abandon Jorge and the world he’s trying to save.

We’re drawn to the dark side, I think, because it’s an escape. Sometimes the real world leaves us feeling so powerless―we can’t help wanting the ability to take control, to bend the world to our will the way our paranormal characters do. Who wouldn’t want to leave the dirty dishes and the unpaid bills behind and slip away into the night, to slink through the shadowy streets scenting for blood or to howl, unfettered, at the moon?

The dark side calls to us in paranormal romance. Every time we open a new book, we flirt with the possibility of ecstatic surrender.

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, LGBTQ, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Essay:

A Father’s Inspiration

My latest book, Serpent’s Kiss, is dedicated to my father. He has been gone for for nearly fifteen years, but I still feel his presence, every day. During the time since his passing, the pain of loss has healed. I’ve come to understand that he’ll always be with me, in my memories and in my heart.

More than any other individual, it was my dad who inspired me to read, and to write. He had the gift of words, and passed it on to his children. I recall him reading aloud to my siblings and me, folk tales, fairy stories, adventures like Treasure Island and Robinson Crusoe. He told his own stories, too, inventing worlds and characters for our pleasure. There were the Gulkons, terrible demons who lived in the fire on the hearth, and Houligan, the god of snow. (I grew up in chilly, stormy New England.) I still remember sitting spellbound while Dad recounted his story of the hapless wizard Thomas Carl Sefney who had to touch his wand to every one of the monster’s thousand tentacles before it consumed him.

Both my parents encouraged me to write. My first poems date from about third grade. During my childhood I wrote fantasies about Martians and ghosts, and plays about the Beatles and politics. In my adolescence, too shy to speak to any of my crushes, I poured out my adoration in anguished free verse. In my twenties and thirties, I wrote science fiction and first tried my hand at romance. Finally, in my forties, I actually managed to publish something (other than in my high school newspaper). My first thought was to call my father.

My dad and I shared favorite books, characters and authors. When he and I got talking about Sherlock Holmes or Frodo Baggins, H.P. Lovecraft or Edgar Allen Poe or Anne Rice, the rest of the family would roll their eyes and leave us to our obsessions. I never had any difficulty figuring out what gift to get him for his birthday or Father’s Day. There was always some book that I had seen or heard about that I knew he’d love.

I never did introduce him to my erotica, though. I was so tempted to show him the pile of paperbacks with my name on the cover, the multiple volumes I had penned or edited. I wanted to autograph him a copy of my first novel, telling him how much he had contributed to my literary endeavors. I wanted him to be proud. However, I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I recalled the way he reacted when I gave him Anne Rice’s BDSM classic The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty – an embarrassed grin and a “oh, that’s interesting”. We didn’t discuss that book much. Though I would have welcomed the opportunity to open up to him about my own pursuits in the world of sex and sensuality, dominance and submission, I sensed that he would rather not know.

I guess that there are just some things you can’t share with your parents, no matter how close you are. But at very least, I can acknowledge him as my lifelong inspiration.


Charity Sunday: Tunnel to Towers

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

There are events in our lives that we always remember where we were when we heard it happened. For me, some of those events were when John Kennedy was shot, when Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon, when Captain Jeremiah Denton arrived home from his imprisonment in Vietnam, and, of course, when the towers and Pentagon were struck and the folks on United 93 made the ultimate sacrifice. On this Memorial Day weekend, the time is appropriate to remember all those who died on September 11, 2001, as well as those who died in service of the fall of the towers and the events that resulted afterward.

On the morning on 9/11/2001, Jack and I were living in San Francisco. Jack had a conference in San Diego the next day and we were on the road, making the drive. We had called his mom in Virginia before we left and she said a plane ran into the trade towers in New York, but gave no further details. I think, like most, she was in shock from what she had been watching on TV. We were in a hurry. We expressed some semblance of horror that such a thing could happen, but we still had a vision of a small plane glancing off the iconic buildings. We had no idea at all that the world had just shifted.

While driving down I-5 we found a radio station, and finally the sheer panic and awfulness of what had happened on the east coast began to sink in. We had gone a couple hundred miles when we turned around and went home, only to huddle in front of the TV, trying to understand how such a thing could happen—like the rest of the nation.

One of the good things to come from that miserable day was the Tunnels to Towers Foundation. The foundation helps families of first responders and military personnel who have fallen. These families not only have to deal with the loss of a loved one but also their income. Tunnel to Towers pays the mortgage on their houses—in full! The relief this must bring is a gift for the soul as much as the benefit of a physical structure. I am honored to gift them this Charity Sunday.

Please comment. Do you know about this organization?

Buy link:
Mystic Desire

Mystic Desire is a collection of short paranormal romance stories. This is a chance to read and discover the work of a diverse group of very talented authors.

The themes in this book are varied, as are the collection of characters and artifacts, including Native American dream catchers, mystical jewelry, and characters such as lustful vampires, hot warlocks, a grumpy leprechaun, a ghostly terrier, a zombie apocalypse and things that go bump in the night.

From soft and tender love to hot passionate, kinky sex, there is something for everyone in this anthology.

The Sweetest Magic of All – Alice Renaud
When a sexy apprentice witch and a hot warlock go back in time to locate a magical amulet, they find more than they bargained for. It’s May Eve, the most magical night of the year, and normal rules don’t apply…

An Awareness of Evil – Dee S. Knight
Only two things stand between evil and a small girl: the visions of Amanda McMasters and Detective Brendan Gilchrist. Neither can afford to be wrong.

Bewitching the Wolf – Zia Westfield
The Witch, Alice Humphreys has poured her heart and soul into creating a magical B&B where guests experience the fantasy vacation of their dreams!  Brodie MacEwan has been sent to investigate the mysterious death of his uncle. He never expected to discover his soul mate in his dreams. But is the illusion real? Alice knows that there is something all too predatory about the Scotsman and he makes her body tingle in places it shouldn’t!

Calling All Angels – Lora Logan
Elijah Baker, an immortal tasked with fighting against demons that exist on earth, finds peace when he meets his new neighbor, Celeste. But when he realizes that their love comes with a cost, he is faced with choosing between his calling and a chance at true love.

Dream Catcher – Callie Carmen
Long ago, a medicine man had made a matched set of dream catchers as a wedding gift to protect the Chief’s daughter and her warrior husband. He had called upon the benevolent spirits to keep the two soul mates safe and in a loving, healthy marriage. It was foretold that if the two dream catchers were ever divided the new owners would be drawn together as soul mates. Was that possible?

Life Saving – Anne Krist
Saving lives isn’t just for adults. Sometimes the innocent magic of a child can do the job better.

Love from the Mist – Patricia Elliott
When Jace Warden learns that his brother plans to announce his engagement at a family get together, he flees to the other side of the world to escape the joyous celebration.

Or at least attempts to…  His plane never makes it, and he winds up trapped on an island. Little does he realize, he’s not alone; there’s a mischievous little entity milling about, and she wants to play.

Love Knows No Apocalypse – Patricia Elliott
Getting stranded in the middle of a storm was not Samantha Wheeler’s idea of an ideal situation, especially in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. But fighting zombies was the easy part; her heart, though, was a whole other matter. Thanks to a man named Steve Jones.

When they find themselves in danger, she has to decide what’s more important – dying for someone she loves or surviving.

Love that Binds – Carol Schoenig
On the outskirts of a small town where nothing grows, a young girl, Ianthee, is being bullied and accused of being a witch. Young Caleb, inexplicably drawn to Ianthee, comes to her rescue. Before they can explore their feelings, Caleb and his family disappear. What happened to him, and what part does a long-ago legend play in their lives?

Love’s Ghost – R.M. Olivia
“Sorry, babe. I know it hurts to hear.” John frowned.  I’ll make this brief. I spoke to the man in charge and he is giving me one last chance.”

“Come again?”

“I’m allowed to make love to my wife one last time before I have to cross over. So, are you ready for your husband? Are you ready for me, Ingrid?” He lifted my chin up and ran his thumb along my lips.  I felt a chill go down my spine. How could this be real? How could this be happening?

The Anniversary – Richard Savage
A cruel twist of fate wrenched Evelyn and Peter apart on their wedding anniversary. Evelyn’s life descends into darkness.  James enters her life giving her a chance of happiness. Evelyn discovers a piece of jewelry, that has the power to grant her time with Peter on their anniversary. She adores James, but needs Peter.  Can she ever really let Peter go, while there’s still a chance they can be together?

The Mortal Vampire – Suzanne Smith
Remy enjoys life as a vampire, never giving a thought to sucking every last drop of tasty blood out of his unfortunate victims and leaving them door nail dead. But his cold and carefree existence changes the day he crosses paths with the beautiful and mysterious mortal Angela.

Through the Veil – Jan Selbourne
A beautiful March day in 1875 ends in tragedy when the wagon carrying Helen and Marcus plunges down the mountainside. Generations pass before Rachel Finlay finds an old sepia photo of a man and woman. She knows them but she’s never met them and now, for the peace of mind she desperately craves, she goes back to where it began. In time, through the veil, knowing she may never return.

Unconditional Lust – Breanna Hayes
The massive, hideous merrow leader, Muruch, craves the taste of human flesh. Confined to the ocean, he feeds his horde with sailors from ships pulled into the maw of the Bermuda Triangle. When US Army Captain, Nurys Shaye, puts her life on the line to save him after being captured, his hunger for human flesh is shadowed by the desire for her body and her love. Will she be able to see past his appearance and trust him to break down her walls and teach her to feel?

Author Dee S. Knight:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K


Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: Boot Campaign

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

The mission of Boot Campaign is: “At Boot Campaign, our mission is to unite Americans to honor and restore the lives of veterans and military families through individualized, life-improving programs. … Our individualized programs are designed to show gratitude to our nation’s veterans, brighten the holiday season for their families and provide high-touch, customized care to treat the root cause of invisible wounds of war, such as posttraumatic stress, traumatic brain injury, chronic pain, self-medication and insomnia. programs are designed to show gratitude to our nation’s veterans, brighten the holiday season for their families ” The incidence of suicide is far greater in veterans than in the majority of the population, but helping end the threat of suicide isn’t the only help our vets need. Check out the Boot Campaign website and see what all they do.

Naval Maneuvers by Dee S. Knight

The book for the month is Naval Maneuvers, one book near and dear to my heart! It’s dedicated to my dad, who proudly sailed the seas for 24 years, for my second father, who believed “once a Marine always a Marine,” and who demonstrated the finest qualities of the Corps in love of his family, and to my own hero who has always shown the best military traits in living life and loving his women. And to all the men and women who serve daily, and to their families: thank you!

Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
“And what is your name, pretty?” Mel Crandall addressed the dinosaur bones in an undertone, bending nearly to face level. The skeleton displayed an open mouth and rows of fierce, sharp teeth.

“Roger,” a man standing next to her said in a low voice. Startled, she looked up. Up being the operative word. She stood a decent five feet ten inches, and he beat her by a good half foot. She studied him. He ignored her.

The guy had a solid profile, strong chin, chiseled cheekbones, and a straight back with muscular shoulders. Short brown hair. He wore glasses and stared straight ahead, but glasses couldn’t disguise the laugh lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. His posture was near perfect and he was not overweight, as evidenced by the trim fit of his jeans and red polo shirt that clung enough to give evidence of a low body/mass index number.

As a doctor, she immediately noticed body characteristics before actual looks. But with this guy, examination in lieu of admiration was hard. Men were often put off by the fact that she paid attention to whether they looked sallow or flushed, or if their hands were cold or warm before she “saw” them. She noticed if a man’s eyes were dilated or glittered with fever before she registered eye color. Dates started with mini examinations before she relaxed enough to enjoy personalities, but that’s just the way she was. Men had to take it or leave it. Sadly, most left it. Which was why she talked to dinosaurs at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History all on her own.

Mel moved on to the next exhibit, a shorter built specimen but still tall and with a nasty spiked tail. “I wonder what you looked like,” she murmured. “What color were you, what did you eat, and what’s your name?” She bent to read the exhibit information.

“Gray. Grass.” That same guy had followed her. Rather than having a strong profile, she was beginning to think he was a weirdo. “Annnd, roger.”

Quickly, Mel moved to the next exhibit. “And you are–”

“Roger.”

He stood beside her again! Mel started to look for a museum guard but saw none. Great. Planting her hands on her hips, she turned to him. “Stop following me,” she said loudly enough that people in the general area turned to see what was happening.

The guy said, “Hold it.”

Hold it? Hold it, as in “Wait a minute, little lady?” She opened her mouth to lay into him when he turned and removed his glasses, showing her the richest, most chocolatey brown eyes she’d ever seen. The words stuck in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, what?”

In a lower voice she said, “You’re following me from exhibit to exhibit and talking to me. I want you to stop.”

“I didn’t realize…” He wiggled the glasses at her. “I’m working here and I’m afraid I didn’t notice you.”

Well. What was worse, that he was a pervert following her place to place, or that he wasn’t a perv and hadn’t even noticed her?

His brow furrowed while he studied her. “Yes. Yes.” Then he shook his head. “Roger.”

Again with that Roger.

“Gotta go. Later.” Then he smiled at her. “Just a minute, okay?” He folded the glasses and put them first in a protective case. Squatting, he placed a briefcase on the floor and opened it. He stored the glass case inside a pocket. Then he removed something from his right ear—an earbud?—protected it and also put it in the case.

Mel watched all of this with curiosity. He expected her to wait for him? What arrogance. And yet, wait she did. When he stood, holding the case in his left hand and smiled once more, her heart stuttered. The guy was drop dead gorgeous—at least to her understanding of the word. Normally, she appreciated the male form, mostly from a medical viewpoint. This man she enjoyed with pure pleasure.

And Good God. He hadn’t been talking to her, he’d been talking to whoever was on the other end of that earbud. Embarrassment flooded her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were…” She slid her hand between the two of them and then to the exhibits.

“No,” he said. “I apologize. I shouldn’t be testing this stuff around people. The last time I did it a kid thought I was calling him Roger.” His voice had a soft drawl to it. Western Virginia or North Carolina, maybe? Somewhere in the mountains. It felt like a cool stream as it ran over a body hot and tired from hiking: refreshing and invigorating, at the same time soothing and relaxing. She wanted him to talk more.

Stop that! She laughed. “I thought you were naming each dinosaur.” He smiled and dimples indented his cheeks. His eyes crinkled and Mel’s breath caught. This guy should come with a warning label. Approach with caution. Could bring on lustful intentions and ultimately, broken hearts. Take only in small doses and in public places.

He held out his hand. “David Stimson.”

She took it gingerly, half expecting lightning to bolt between them. Nope. Nothing. So much for romance novels. He had a nice hand, large and warm with healthy pink nails, and she grasped it firmly. “Melissa Crandall.”

“Nice to meet you. Do you mind if I wander along with you?” Grasping the briefcase with his left hand, he deftly moved to the left of her.

“No, please. It’s a free country.” She walked to the next dinosaur re-creation. “And this one is…” She half waited for his pronouncement.

“Not Roger,” he said, stopping her heart with that killer smile again. He leaned over to read the information. “Torosaurus latus. It says here that these bones were dug up in North Dakota, but that the Torosaurus roamed from Canada to Texas, and that he had the biggest head of any land mammal.”

“Well, I guess that’s something to be proud of,” Mel responded. David laughed and she found herself smiling back. When she moved to the next exhibit, he strolled along with her.

He pointed to the next specimen. “Poor guy. Starved to death.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

“Can’t you tell? He’s all bones.”

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

<!– start LinkyTools script –>

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…