Category: Book Hooks

Who knows what a woman can do? Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

The Woman Behind the Mirror

Blurb –
The Woman Behind the Mirror by Jan SelbourneBetrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable—she runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a “new world” of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is simmering, and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Bank investigator Neil McAlister faces an almost impossible task—to determine the true owner of the documents by deciding who is lying. Most of all, as danger creeps ever closer, he needs to know who wants the secretive, beautiful Sarah dead.

Buy link
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt –
When the early dusk gave way to night, she cut her hair to above her shoulders. Dressed in grubby men’s breeches, a thick quilted coat and cloak she’d bought from a street hawker, her cropped hair pushed under a black hat and a knife in her pocket, she walked past the front entrance, looked around and hurried down the lane to the rear of the building. Stepping over rubble and filth she moved closer to the back door and almost sagged with relief. The cover over the coal chute had not been sealed. Crouching down, she pulled the metal ring and pulled again but it wouldn’t budge. Forcing down the urge to scream and kick, she pulled again. With a harsh scraping of wood against wood it lifted, and she dropped into the black hole. Hitting the pile of coal with a thud, she lay still listening, then crept into the empty kitchen and the hall. A glance behind her and she sprinted up the staircase to Samuel Fenton’s private quarters.

It was as she expected, dark and stripped of all furniture, so she felt her way along the wall until a hand covered her mouth. Her heart thudded with shock then she bit down hard. The grip loosened and she kicked back behind her. Two strong hands swung her around and jammed her face into the wall.

“Move and I’ll cut your throat,” a muffled voice hissed in her ear.

Sarah tried to kick back again but he dodged to one side and threw her to the floor. Winded and terrified she flinched when his knife pressed against her throat.

“Who are you? Answer me!”

“Please,” she begged. “Let me go and I’ll not look back.”

A sharp intake of air. “A woman?”

Sarah was pulled up to face a man shrouded in black and with a scarf covering the lower part of his face.

“Let me go!” she yelled but his grip tightened and now frightened for her life she fought back. Her fingernails clawed at his eyes and when he jerked away her boot lashed into his shin bone. Swearing furiously, he kicked her feet from under her and she landed heavily on the floor.

“Bitch,” he snarled. “If you were a man, you’d be dead.” Within seconds he was gone.

Shaking uncontrollably, Sarah backed into a corner and curled into a ball until the cold and the terrible silence became unbearable. You are so close, and you can’t lie here forever.

Lifting her head, she peered into the dark room before crawling to the alcove where the mahogany desk had stood. Inch by inch, she felt along the floorboards until she found the join. Her fingers moved forward until they found the second join and pushed down. It didn’t move. Stifling a sob, she willed herself to remember the night two men had challenged each other to a duel. She’d burst into this room to find Samuel Fenton on his knees placing a box into the hole. He’d swiftly covered it, spluttering something about dropping his snuff box. She hadn’t so much as glanced at the floor, instead she’d pointed to the salon shouting, “Quick, they’ll kill each other.” Now, she had no idea how to open the hidey-hole.

God, it was so dark she couldn’t see a damn thing. Gritting her teeth, Sarah felt the floorboards again. No keyhole. Her eyes closed in despair, why didn’t she bring a hatpin or… Her eyes flew open. Idiot, the knife!

Keeping one finger on the join, she fumbled for the knife in her pocket and pushed it into the crack. Nothing. “Please, please,” she begged silently and dug the knife into the other join. A soft click. Now what do I do? Her fingers gently pushed again, and the other end lifted. Every nerve in her body was screaming to get out now as she lifted the box from its hiding place. Something else was beneath it.

Her fingers probed and picked up a slim leather folder when a noise outside made her freeze. Dear God, he was coming back. Then it went silent. Most likely an alley cat. She pushed the folder into the pocket of her cloak, clutched the box to her chest and, heart pounding loud enough to hear a mile away, she crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Across the flagstones to the coal chute. “Oh no,” she whispered. There was nothing to help her climb out. Defeated, she slumped down to the floor and put her head in her hands.

It was a scraping noise that roused her. Most likely a tree branch against a window, but wait, how did that brute get in and out? Gripping the knife, she walked beside the walls, touching each boarded window and door and then stopped to listen. Back to the privy where chamber pots were emptied into the sewer outside. The small door was open, its rusty hinges squeaking. Dropping to the floor she crawled through the gap, stepped over the foul-smelling drain and was about to run when a figure loomed in front of her.

Hard hands grabbed her shoulders. “What were you doing in there?”

“Nothing, get away, get away from me!” Jerking away, the box slipped from her grasp and hit the ground with a clatter.

The man grabbed her again. “Slut, answer me or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

Blindly Sarah lashed out at him and her breath caught in her throat when he gave a sickening whoop and staggered backwards to collapse onto the cobblestones.

Oh, dear God. In her panic to get out she’d forgotten the knife in her hand. Her legs were turning to water, she couldn’t move, then a shout from the road.

“What goes on there?” Two night watchmen with lanterns were turning into the lane. Dragging air into her lungs, she picked up the box and fled.

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Making her engine purr #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Blurb:
One Woman Only by Dee S. KnightOne Woman Only, Book 2 of the Good Man series

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:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
“A burger and fries, please.” Jonah had said the words, but in synch with someone else. Someone whose voice was slightly higher and a lot more feminine. He turned his head to the left and met the green gaze of the last person he wanted to see tonight. For an instant, the spit dried in his mouth and his eyes widened as his past slammed headfirst into his present. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and his body responded with an immediate and aching erection.

Then she opened her mouth.

“Oh hell,” Kelly said. “It’s you.”

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Fate or luck? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Passionate Destiny by Dee S. Knight

Blurb:
Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies at a small New Jersey college, is a woman who confidently knows who she is and what she expects of life. Until she loses her teaching position and her well-ordered life gets turned upside down. Then, in a subtle stroke of whimsy, fate tosses her a gift in an historic home and property in Virginia.

Harboring visions of Gone With the Wind, she determines to use River Peace as a temporary reprieve from her troubles. Images of Tara quickly evaporate when she arrives to discover the reality of her inheritance, however.

River Peace has history, grace and style going for it. After only one night, Margaret discovers that it also has a ghost. She’s visited by a male spirit from the time of the War Between the States, who knows how to make a woman feel special. And very loved.

Aaron Belton meets Margaret when she first arrives in Virginia. He’s renowned for historic renovations on a multitude of properties, but he’s got a special place in his heart for River Peace. He and his family believe the property always should have belonged to them. In fact, Aaron will do almost anything to make that happen. When his passion for the house changes to a passion for the house’s owner, Aaron’s as surprised as anyone. Can he gain both, the woman and the house? To do so, he’ll have to face a spectral being.

And his own destiny.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited 

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
Among the standard collegiate notices and envelopes, she found two official-looking envelopes. Both had been signed for by the department secretary. Using her letter opener, she cut a slit along the flap of the larger brown envelope marked Personal and Confidential.

The letter she pulled out was notification that the papers making her divorce from Jackson Hollings final and official—sanctioned and approved by the state of New Jersey—were ready for her to sign.

Funny, she had just commented to him a few minutes ago that the papers were due any day, and they had been sitting in her briefcase, waiting for discovery.

Although she had initiated the proceedings and had fully expected the paperwork, actually seeing the words in black and white caused her stomach to drop and tears to come to her eyes. For six years she and Jackson had shared their lives. But for her eye-opening visit to his office one afternoon last fall they might still be. He was basically a good man, although not a particularly faithful one, and at one time she had loved him fiercely. But now she needed to move on with her life.

She put the letter aside and picked up the second envelope. It was addressed using her full name. Very formal. She glanced at the return address: Ronald Gibson, Esquire, Palmyra, Virginia.

Wrinkling her brow, she tried to figure out who she knew in Virginia. She slid her thumb under the flap and slipped out the sheets of paper. Her eyes widened as she read that she had been named sole beneficiary in the will of one Maude Rawling. Margaret looked at the second page of the notification. She had apparently inherited an antebellum house, with all furnishings and one hundred fifty-three acres, in Virginia.

Images of Gone with the Wind sprung to mind. She pictured a large, columned home commanding an expanse of lawn edged with azaleas and magnolias, and a circular drive around which carriages drove to discharge hoop-skirted passengers. With a grin, she shook her head to dismiss the illusion.

Mr. Gibson urged her to contact him as soon as possible to discuss disposition of the property. Whether she planned to sell or live in the house, he advised, repairs had to be made. He recommended a contractor named Aaron Belton for the work, both for his expertise and knowledge of authentic reconstruction. Margaret reread the letter, wondering who Maude Rawling was, and why Maude would leave anything to her. She almost wished Jackson had come over after all, to sort through this with her.

Picking up the phone, she dialed her mother.

Patricia Ackerman, a vivacious, beautiful woman, was a most unconventional mother. Only eighteen years older than Margaret, she had just turned fifty-one at the end of the previous month. Married three times, although never to Margaret’s father, Patricia had shared their various homes with several lovers. Living what she laughingly called an eclectic lifestyle, she’d built up quite a large bank account, as well as a strong network of friends. Although she was currently unmarried, even now she had a man firmly in the palm of her hand, and Margaret fully expected to be invited to another wedding in the near future.

When she promised to love Jackson until death, Margaret had tried to keep the specter of her mother’s love life out of mind. Then, after the separation, she had hoped more than anything that the inability to have a truly loving relationship wasn’t a part of her genetic makeup. Or at least that the inability to find a true man wasn’t. But she somehow thought it was. She’d never had a relationship last. Jackson had been it, the longest, the one she’d committed to, and still she’d been disappointed in love.

About Dee:
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.

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A mysterious proposition—Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

The Proposition by Jan Selbourne

The Proposition
Blurb:
They met on the eve of a battle. One enlisted to avoid prison, the other enlisted to avoid the money lenders. On the bloodied fields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It is a risk, a hanging offence, it’s his only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs.

Now Andrew, he is just another face in post war London until a letter arrives with a proposition. Accepting is out of the question, refusing pushes him into a nightmare of greed, blackmail and murder. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake, until Lacey, her secrets and the truth.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
“Excuse me, call of nature.”

The niggling coil of unease had been growing and now, as Andrew watched the dining room door close behind Elliot, his instincts were jabbing at hm. His host had been charming and hospitable. Last night, after a delicious dinner at Browns Hotel, they’d touched on their family connection, unsure of what to say without offending the other. Elliot had twirled his glass between his fingers. “My grandparents made a lot of money from the textile industry, my father sold seventy percent of those businesses and invested in other profitable enterprises. To put it simply, he was a very astute, successful businessman, but I’m afraid he was not a good husband and father. He cared little for us and it distresses me that he cared even less for you and your mother.”

Today, Elliot had proudly introduced him to his pride and joy, a dark grey Austin-20hp, motoring smoothly out of London and onto the soft Essex countryside. When they’d stopped at Thaxted’s Swan Inn for lunch, Elliot had commented, “Every spare acre in Essex has been growing vegetables, doing their bit for the war effort and rationing.” When they continued on to Saffron Walden, he’d pointed to his left, “Railway station, a branch line from Audley End. Made a big difference to this town.”

They’d stopped briefly in High Street, then through the marketplace, bumping over cobblestones to a wider road and finally stopping at the entrance of a large Victorian house. He’d been shown to his room overlooking the rear of the house with its garden rows of vegetables. Elliot had apologized again, business to attend to and please make himself at home. Not used to the substantial meals, he’d slept until five pm. At seven pm, he’d joined Elliot in the dining room where silver serving dishes containing roast beef, baked potatoes and green vegetables sat on spirit warmers.

“Very informal this evening,” Elliot had said breezily. “I asked my daily help to prepare something easy for us, so please, help yourself.”

The only time his host’s friendliness disappeared was when the daily help tapped on the door to tell him she’d answered the phone and left the message on the phone pad.

Something was very wrong, or perhaps he was too jumpy from living on this tight rope of lies. The door opened again.

“Much more comfortable,” Elliot grinned and sat down. “More wine?”

“No thank you, I might not be able to climb the stairs, but I must thank you for another very pleasant evening.”

Elliot’s grin disappeared. “It’s time to discuss the business proposition which will give us both what we want.”

“I confess I was intrigued when I received your letter,” Andrew replied guardedly.

“You will perform a service and if that service is completed satisfactorily, I will pay you three hundred pounds and pay your outstanding debts.”

Andrew went perfectly still. “Perform a service?”

“You will impregnate the woman I married.”

Jan:
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.

Contact Jan:
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Are you listening? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Only a Good Man Will Do by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Daniel Goodman is a man on a mission. For years he has striven for perfection, fighting for the pinnacle achievement in his world of academia, Headmaster of Westover Academy. Westover, established before the American Revolution, is still one of the most prestigious schools in the country. They accept only boys whose parents fit a certain mold and only those teachers who hold to a stringent set of mores, on and off campus. His brother Jonah considers Daniel a prig. Daniel sees himself as doing his best to serve his students. How much better can he serve them as headmaster? That is what he seeks to find out.

Suddenly, into his cut and dried, strictly black and white life of moral and upright behavior, comes Eve Star, formerly one of Europe’s foremost exotic dancers. Her life is anything but cut and dried, black and white. Bad enough that she’s enrolled her son in Westover Academy under false pretenses. More, she runs the town’s most disreputable bar. Worst, much to Daniel’s dismay, he finds himself drawn to her like a kid to chocolate. Nothing good can come of this attraction. Or can it? He is after all, a good man.

Buy link:
Amazon Kindle Unlimited: https://amzn.to/2q7ovi4

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
“Daniel, am I talking to myself, here?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” He chuckled an amused admission. “Tell me what you said again.”

He could almost hear Eve smile. “I said, you called at four-thirty on Saturday and Sunday, so I took a wild leap that you would today, too.”

“Ah.” Smiling to the empty room, he squirmed to get into a more comfortable position. “A woman of logic.”

“Absolutely. You don’t want to play me in chess. I think five or six moves ahead.”

“I’ll remember that. There’s nothing worse than seeing a guy cry when he’s been beaten at chess by a girl. Now tell me why you’re upstairs. I know you don’t have a lot of help this time of day.”

“I’m paying Jed extra to come in a bit early.” Her voice was low, as though she didn’t really want to tell him. The words struck his heart.

“You don’t have money to be paying Jed extra, Eve. I’ll start calling later, after dinner and before I grade papers.”

“No, don’t. It’s quiet this time of day and I want these few minutes to myself. Jed doesn’t mind, and he can use a few extra bucks.”

“Well, okay.”

“Besides, you won’t be calling forever. Soon you’ll be head of the school and won’t have free time for the likes of me.”

Daniel hadn’t promised her on Friday that he’d call. He’d simply felt the desire and acted on it. Then, by unspoken agreement, they hadn’t mentioned what might happen next in their relationship. They’d spent time sharing that day in their respective worlds.

Today, he’d discovered the desire to talk to Eve wasn’t an “at loose ends” feeling that sometimes came over him on weekends. After his dorm assistant had arrived, Daniel had locked his doors, put his books and papers away, and picked up the phone. Only after they’d been well into the fantasy did he remember he hadn’t even removed his gown and jacket before pressing her number. He’d wanted to hear her, find out what her day had been like and communicate his own. He felt seventeen again, with an infatuation about to drive him crazy. Except men his age didn’t have infatuations. They had obsessions.

“Hey,” Eve charged, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, like I was hunting for compliments or reassurances. I was simply stating a fact, the way we both know it to be. I want this to be short term as much as you do, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

But he was. How long did obsessions last, anyway? Daniel had never allowed himself to be distracted by a woman or anything that might waylay his goals.

Until now.

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Naughty teacher! #MFRWHooks

Only a Good Man Will DoThis is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Blurb:
Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Daniel Goodman is a man on a mission. He aims to become headmaster of Westover Academy. For that he needs a particular, special woman to help him set high standards. Into his cut and dried life of moral and upright behavior, comes Eve Star, formerly one of Europe’s foremost exotic dancers. Her life is anything but cut and dried, black and white. Daniel is drawn to her like a kid to chocolate. Nothing good can come of this attraction. Or can it? He is after all, a good man.

Buy link:
Amazon KU: https://amzn.to/2q7ovi4

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
Daniel stood. “Shall we talk in the kitchen?” The woman sighed, but led the way.

“I feel so awful for that boy,” she started, lifting the coffee pot and raising her brows at Daniel.

“No, thanks.” Daniel leaned against the counter and stared at the woman. With only the light over the stove casting a glow, her hair shone like an auburn halo. Her head bowed to blow on the hot liquid in her cup. Full, round breasts rose and fell with each breath, tempting him to touch. Her narrow waist and curvy hips were pure sin and there wasn’t anything he wanted to do more than press her against him and explore every curve. He’d never get the chance, considering how tangled she was with Michael Haynes and The Bare Moose.

“Feeling awful. Is that how you happened to put both him and yourself at risk by becoming involved with him?”

Her head snapped up, and eyes he’d fantasized glazed with lust a brief moment ago now flared with fire. “We’re not involved. He said it, we’re friends. My—” she stopped, looked away, took a breath, looked back, “—my son, Timmy, and I were in the park by the river one Sunday last June. I was painting. Michael stopped to talk. We saw him several times in the park after that. I didn’t see any harm.”

“Didn’t see any harm? The boy’s infatuated with you, couldn’t you tell? Besides, The Bare Moose is a long way from the river.” Fifteen miles from the park, light years from Westover Academy.

She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “One Sunday I took a picnic and Michael joined us. He always seemed so alone. When he asked if I knew how to cook pot roast and I said of course, he looked … I don’t know, wistful. So I asked if his parents would mind if he came to my house for supper the following week, and he assured me they wouldn’t. I didn’t think it was all that wrong. Until the school year started, I didn’t know he attended Westover and he hasn’t visited here since then. He’s never been inside the tavern, and I certainly don’t give him alcohol.” Her eyes flashed again. “I promise you, we don’t engage in anything racier than passing the mashed potatoes or cutting hair.”

Daniel frowned. “Cutting hair?”

“Yes. I thought he looked a little shaggy one day, so I cut his hair. Look, he plays with Timmy and tells me jokes and stories. I teach him art. We’re company for each other. There’s nothing more to it.”

Daniel hadn’t gotten past Eve’s cutting Michael’s hair. He could feel her fingers raking through his own hair, skimming his scalp, skating the tips of his ears. His cock rose, hard and throbbing, not caring that he and Eve were strangers and that impressionable children were mere feet away.

“So, you were a dancer?” She blushed, and the certainty of what caused the blush made his dick ache even more. He’d bet the tassels on his mom’s old pasties that he knew exactly what kind of “dancer” Eve Star was.

Evening Star. He could picture what her costume looked like. Battery-powered star headdress to illuminate her path to the center pole, silver lamé cape sailing behind like the tail of a comet, shimmering bra, panties and high, high heels that showed off her sexy-as-hell legs. He’d bet she made every man in the room salivate and want to become an astronomer so they could examine her heavenly body up close. Just like Daniel wanted to do right then. The kitchen counter was just the right height to…

He shook his head to clear the image of taking her on her spotless kitchen counter.

“Dancing’s behind me. I run the tavern now.”

At least she can do that with her clothes on.

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Families—we can’t choose them #MFRWHooks

One Woman Only by Dee S. KnightOne Woman Only

Blurb:
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:
Amazon KU

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
Thanksgiving dinner was as solemn as the rest of the meals Kelly remembered in her house. On the pristine white, laced-edged cloth, the table was beautifully set with gleaming candlesticks and flickering candlelight. Her mother’s wedding china—more Limoges, soft cream colored with a delicate rim of gold—shone as finely as the sterling silver flatware beside each plate. A centerpiece of small pumpkins, patty pan squash, and other gourds, mixed with colored leaves and white mums, graced the center of the table. The turkey was the perfect shade of brown and neither the gravy nor the mashed potatoes showed lumps. Corn pudding, still steaming from its time in the oven, looked inviting in its dish. Sweet potato casserole, green beans, and Brussels sprouts cooked with onion and bacon completed the meal, along with homemade dinner rolls that had played their part adding to the day’s aromas. Two pies—a sweet potato and an apple—waited for later, on the bachelor chest behind her father. The room and the meal should have looked like a Norman Rockwell painting.

Except this painting was flat. There was no feeling, no emotion. No smiles, no laughing family poking each other in play or joining hands in prayer. They were just four people sitting at a table preparing to eat. Kelly hated it. And she hated knowing that every time she’d come home over the years she had expected things to be different.

She ventured a smile at Mama Rio, who sat across the table from her. “This all looks delicious. Thank you for your hard work.”

“You worked with me. This meal is thanks to you, too, little one.”

Kelly’s mother sniffed. “I never had to lend a hand in the kitchen for a meal in my day. There’s something very unseemly in your slaving away in the kitchen, Kelly. We pay Mama Rio to do those things.” Her mother nodded in Mama Rio’s direction. “No offense. We’re very happy to have you share dinner with us since your family isn’t here this year. And as usual, the meal is delicious.”

Kelly looked at Mama Rio who sighed and said, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t have to help in the kitchen, Mother. I wanted to. It’s fun working alongside someone one you love to prepare something this special. Doesn’t it look wonderful?”

Mama Rio looked up and smiled shyly. She had on a clean blouse and nicely fitted slacks. Her hair had streaks of gray and she had pulled it back into a braid. She wore no jewelry except her wedding band, which she’d never removed in the years since her husband’s death.

Kelly’s mother on the other hand, sported diamond earrings and a pendant with a stone large enough to be seen from space, on a gold chain. Diamonds graced the fingers of smooth hands that had rarely seen a lick of work. Her dress was couture and probably cost more than Kelly’s and Mama Rio’s wardrobes combined. Yet the neat but virtually poor woman sitting across from her shone more brightly than any of her mother’s diamonds. Why was that?

“It looks like Thanksgiving dinner is supposed to look. I don’t know what more you want me to say,” Kelly’s mother said.

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More magic! #MFRWHooks

Your Desire by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
Your Desire. Two stories about a mysterious shop that appears for one reason: to bring a special person the thrill of love and the spice of passion. Magic reveals the hidden, usually surprising, desires of the heart. Then the store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town….

Buy link:
Amazon KU

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
“Here comes Allison now. We’ll ask her.” His voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the ER. She slipped through the opening to see Frank sitting on the edge of the bed. Walter Neeley, the ophthalmologist, stood in front of him. Mike stood apart, his arms crossed over the metal cover of the hospital chart held tightly against his chest. His face was serious but a look of mischievous glee colored his eyes as he observed the verbal sparring between the two men. Beside him stood Richard Matthews, head of neurology, who nodded a greeting to her.

“Ask Allison what?” She knew she’d have to referee something, based on the bull-headed expressions of both doctor and patient. Frank and Walt had already turned toward the opening in the curtains when she slipped in. This damn noisy dress.

“I want to hold Mr. Hughes overnight. He refuses. Says he’ll be all right at your house.” Walt Neeley arched a brow at her. “As he’s your friend, perhaps you can convince him that it’s in his own best interests to be admitted for the night.”

Unconsciously, she moved to stand beside Frank, touching his hand to let him know she was there. His head followed her every movement. “Actually he’s not my fr—”

“Tell him there’s no need for me to remain here overnight, Allison. If he’d give me something for this damn headache, I’d be fine. Well, if I could see, that is.” He practically growled out the last.

“They can’t give you anything that will make you sleep.”

“But it hurts like hell.”

“I know, but buck up,” she stage-whispered.

He snorted and turned away.

“Actually, Frank,” she stated in her most persuasive tone, “it is in your best interest to stay here. If anything should happen, the staff and equipment you need will be here.”

“No.”

Damn it! She couldn’t take him home. Besides the obvious medical risks, there was the unsettled feeling she experienced around him. It was unreasonable, but there, nonetheless. Why wouldn’t the obstinate man allow them to admit him so she could go home alone to her safe and ordered life.

“Mr. Hughes.”

Frank turned his head, his recalcitrant expression carved in stone.

“You don’t seem to realize the seriousness of your condition. You have a contusion, and as Nurse Hayes suggested, that’s bad enough. But if the swelling of your brain worsens during the night, you’ll need care she can’t give you at home.”

Frank seemed to consider this. “Dr. Matthews, is it?” He asked but continued without waiting for confirmation. “I think I do understand the seriousness of my condition. If you and the staff here haven’t explained it thoroughly enough, my own doctor, after examining the test results you sent, has told me plainly that I’m a jackass if I leave here tonight. However, he’s well aware of my nature and knows I’m a man used to taking judicious risks. I trust Ms. Hayes. She’s a well-trained nurse, is she not?”

“This has nothing to do with Allison’s capabilities,” spit out Walt Neeley.

“This has to do with your welfare and the liability of the hospital if you leave and something happens.”

She sighed, knowing the men could butt heads all night without resolution. “What about the blindness?”

Walt spoke. “As far as we can tell, the problem is trauma-induced and will resolve itself when the swelling goes down. Tonight he’ll have to be checked every two hours.”

“Allison will do that.” Frank didn’t give the slightest intimation that she might say no.

She looked at him, really looked at him. He acted the tyrant, totally commanding, used to having every whim fulfilled and order followed without question. But there was an odd hesitance under it all. She’d noticed the characteristic earlier, too, when they were making their way out of the pasture. Discomfort, almost fear.

His hands fisted on his legs, his brows puckered ever so slightly in worry. Other than those tells, no one would know he wasn’t the controlling force he pretended to be. Maybe only she saw he had the false bravado of a man used to being in charge, suddenly finding himself at the mercy of fate. If so, she might not understand his attitude but she wouldn’t betray him.

She tried one more approach. “What if I stayed with you? I’d be here each time the nurse woke you up.”

He shook his head. “If you won’t take me home I’ll call my assistant. He’ll come down immediately and we’ll drive back to DC tonight.”

Walt Neeley threw his hands up and snorted in disbelief. Frank’s lips turned up in a tiny smile, probably secure in the knowledge that he’d presented an alternative worse than going home with her.

Mike gave a one-shouldered shrug when she glanced at him. “I strongly advise he be admitted.” Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Mike cut him off. “If he insists on going, we can’t stop him. You’re one of the people I’d entrust him to. If you want him, of course.”

All four men waited to hear her judgment. “I suppose he could sleep on the sofa in the office. I wouldn’t want him climbing the stairs.” She spoke out loud, but more to herself, reasoning what to do. “I can get him back here very quickly if need be.”

“Good.” Frank spoke as though her decision had been a foregone conclusion all along. His hands relaxed on his thighs.

Dr. Matthews slid by on his way out of the cubicle. “You’ll have to sign an AMA form. That’s Against Medical Advice.” He turned to look sternly at Frank then at her. “I wish you’d reconsider, Mr. Hughes.”

“I appreciate your advice, Doctor, but get the form, please.”

“I’ll see to the rest of the paperwork so you can get home,” Mike said. He threw Allison a worried look before following the neurologist out of the cubicle.

Walt lounged against the wall, arms crossed, staring at her. “I assume you know who this is, Allison? If anything happens with someone of his position, I’d hate to think what the repercussions might be.” He studied her.

“I had no idea you were friends with—”

“She doesn’t need you telling her about her friends, Doctor. And I’d appreciate your restraint when it comes to the rest of the staff. No one needs to know what I do since it has no bearing on why I’m here.”

“Huh!” Walt pushed himself away from the wall. “Call if you need help tonight, Allison. And I hope you make sure he pays for the fence, and your hospitality,” he advised before leaving.

“What is it with you people and fences?”

Do you believe? #MFRWHooks #MFRWauthor

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Passionate Destiny by Dee S. KnightBlurb:

When Margaret Amis-Hollings inherits an old house in Virginia, she never suspects she’d be sharing it with a very loving ghost. Or that her interest would be divided between her spirit lover and the very live man who’s renovating the place. Suddenly her life is intertwined with a soldier from a previous century and with his descendant, Aaron, who has a secret concerning her home. Is it coincidence or the power of a past love that makes her want to share her life—as well as her destiny—with Aaron?

Buy link:

Amazon KU

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:

“What do you mean I’m being cut?” Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies in the sociology department at Hardis College, shot out of her chair and stared at the dean, Sally Smith, who remained seated.

“Calm down, Margaret.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You just told me that I’ve lost my job.” Pacing, she raked her hand through the tangle of auburn hair that never seemed to stay contained in barrettes. A million things went through her mind, not the least of which was how she would make her rent, her car payment, buy food.

“Oh my God, how am I going to live?” Collapsing in the chair she’d just vaulted out of, she turned to face her friend and boss. Her expression was half despair, half anger, all shock.

“I’m so sorry, Margaret. The board has ordered more budget cuts. It hasn’t been easy. You know how we’ve had to scrimp for the past few years. Now we even have to cull courses we think aren’t serving the full interests of the students.”

“But—but…” Tears choking her throat, she couldn’t at first finish her sentence. “But the women’s studies classes? They’re vital.”

In fact, she had thought the reason for meeting with Sally was to discuss the addition of a new offering: Women Villains. She’d been so proud of the catchy and intriguing title and even had the hook for the course description. “What makes ‘Jane the Ripper,’ and how do her contributing factors differ from Jack’s?” She’d anticipated sharing the materials she’d already prepared, and hearing Sally’s happy response when she revealed the number of students who’d already indicated an interest.

She’d planned for questions of course, but anticipated support and excitement from Sally. The last thing she imagined was being let go.

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What’s in a dress? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Blurb:
Your Desire by Dee S. KnightYour Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold ad the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?

The Artist and the Director
Derica Meadows, the conservative Director of Accounting at a large San Francisco firm, sees the most beautiful dress imaginable in a shop window. So different from her usual genderless pant suits, she’s swept into acquiring the gown for a formal business affair the next night. But a funny thing happens on the way to her party, in the form of a compelling man and a photo shoot. Suddenly, the normally logical Derica finds herself swimming in a sea of romance and sexual freedom she’d never before considered. The hunk of an artist can satisfy her fantasies, but what will happen to her climb up the corporate ladder in the process? And to her heart?

Buy link:
Amazon KU

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
Your Desire. The name was painted on the door in simple block print. She pulled the handle and stepped into the cramped store, where she came face to face with an older, prim man in a well-worn suit. Gray touched his temples but not his thin moustache. His dark brown eyes warmed her to her core, and she felt immediate trust in him.

The shop didn’t inspire such trust, however. It was on the shabby side of shabby-chic, and like the man’s suit, had seen better days. That explained why she hadn’t noticed the place before—it wasn’t the sort of establishment in which she usually shopped.

“May I help you?” the man asked.

She turned toward the window display. What the hell! The effect remained the same. The satin seemed to change shades of purple depending on her position. One way she noticed the beads, another she saw the pearls. Now she saw barely visible lines of sequins between folds of the skirt. Although there was no breeze, the skirt seemed to shift, and tiny shards of light shot from the sequins otherwise hidden in the yards of material.

“Yes, that dress in the window, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It is unique, part of our special collection.” He sounded proud. “May we make one like it for you?”

“Make one?” She stepped forward and reached out. The touch of her fingers caused swirls of violet to run through the fabric from waist to hem, and she gasped as she jerked her hand away. “No, I need the dress for tomorrow night.” Curious, she faced the man. “I can’t believe you made this. It’s wonderful!”

He closed his eyes and graciously nodded his acknowledgement.

The mannequin in the window drew her attention again. She’d never owned anything so soft and feminine. Suddenly her black pantsuits seemed totally unsuitable for the office party, dull and lifeless, even when she imagined them paired with a bright scarf or lacy camisole.

“How much for this dress?” Damn! She’d failed to keep intense interest from her voice. If she were the salesperson, she’d immediately jack up the price.

“Oh, you don’t want that. It’s only for display and very old. I can’t guarantee your satisfaction.”

Slowly Derica turned to the man, her mind turning over possibilities of why he wouldn’t want to take advantage of a sale. Did he think to haggle and increase the price, now that she’d shown her excitement? Well, if that was his game, she could play, too.

“Perhaps you’re right. I have a formal affair tomorrow night. Do you have anything else?” Casting a glance at the drab interior, she carefully kept her expression neutral. “I’m a size eight,” she offered, seeing him give her an appraising look.

He nodded. “That’s exactly what I would have said. If you’ll follow me, I think we have just what you’re looking for.”

They walked to the back of the store and through a curtained doorway. There she found a softly lighted alcove with two stuffed chairs on either side of a dark-stained piecrust table. A cup of steaming tea and a plate of shortbread were on a tray. She examined the room in amazement, not having expected a showroom. In fact, she’d barely expected curtains on the dressing rooms, based on the appearance of the shop.

“Just make yourself comfortable, and we’ll see what we have, shall we?” He waved her into one of the chairs then turned toward another, smaller doorway to her side. “Edwina, we’re ready.”

A young woman dramatically swept aside the material covering the entryway and emerged wearing a pink chiffon formal with a fitted bodice and long sleeves. What caught Derica’s attention however, was the woman’s shape. She could have been Derica’s body double with her long legs, narrow, rounded hips, and tiny waist. The woman’s breasts would have nicely filled out Derica’s own B-cup bra. The difference came in her beautiful violet eyes and heart shaped, Kewpie doll lips, painted bright red.
And also in her short spiked hair that was a most interesting shade of yellow. Derica was so taken with their similarities in shape, it didn’t occur to her to wonder why the woman was poised and ready to model formal gowns.

“This is my granddaughter, Edwina.” The man beamed at Edwina then turned his warm smile on Derica. “And I’m Nigel Brown.”

“I’m Derica Meadows. That’s a lovely gown, Mr. Brown,” she said, as the woman twirled to show off the flow of the skirt. “But it looks like something for a prom.”

His smile fell ever so slightly. “Oh, dear. Well, Edwina…” He shooed her behind the curtain.

After what felt like only seconds, Edwina came out again, wearing a lime green skirt and white ruffled blouse.

“No, that’s not right at all. I need something for a company dinner, and I want a gown that will knock everyone back on their heels.”

She’d barely taken a sip of tea before Edwina left and came back, this time in a sleek black sheath that displayed too much leg on one end and far too much cleavage on the other. Derica cringed then smiled, thinking of the reactions of The Wives if she wore this dress to the party. But a sexy little number wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted mystery underlying a thoroughly feminine sophistication.

She wanted the dress in the window.

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