Category: MFRW

Re-reading—a rarity #MFRWauthor

I love (love, LOVE!) reading. Some books haven’t been really great, but a lot have been. So many stories have occupied my mind long after reading them, for the characters or the lyrical writing or something I can’t quite put my finger on. But it’s not very often I go back and re-read them. In fact, off the top of my head, I can only think of two books I’ve re-read. Well, four I guess, but three are of the same series.

The first I thought about was Diane Gabaldon’s Outlander. I did love that book! The romance was strong, the historical aspect was interesting, and then (of course!) there was James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. He’s what kept calling me back, not Claire, the witch, with her nose in the air. I also re-read books 2 and 3, when a friend and I decided to read the entire series. I still have not read the final book (is there an actual final book out?) because I don’t want Jamie to die. I was ready for Claire to die by the end of book 4, to tell the truth, but that’s neither here nor there.

The other book that came to mind is one by Emma Holly called The Demon’s Daughter. I absolutely lost myself in that book!! I really like Emma Holly’s writing style, but then she wove a tight, exciting sci fi/fantasy adventure romance that kept me glued to the book from start to finish. In fact…I kinda want to read it again now.

I just finished reading Ed Hoornaert’s The Saint of Quarantine Island, and I think it has the quality of a book I could read again. There’s so much happening and so many quirks and twists that I think I could discover things the second time around that I might have missed the first. I really enjoyed it!

And I could also re-read Jan Selbourne’s Perilous Love (or Behind the Clouds if you prefer a cover without the naked chest!) In that book, Jan wrote a real love story—more than a romance—and set it against the opening chords of WWI. It is very exciting, and she brought the romance out slowly but surely. Wonderful book!!

Which books have you re-read?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

There’s magic in the air #MFRWHooks

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

Your Desire by Dee S. Knight
Blurb:
Your 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? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town….

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
Allison Hayes berated herself for the millionth time as she hurried up the street. Spending her lunch hour shopping wasn’t her greatest desire, but she had little choice.

Why had she agreed to help at the reunion yet again? Hadn’t she been masochistic enough when they’d celebrated being out of high school five years? She’d handled all of the arrangements then. And when the tenth anniversary arrived, hadn’t she accepted the tasks of tracking down everyone in their class, bringing in the entertainment and setting up the welcome dinner?

As the third reunion approached, she’d determined to stay out of it. Yet here she was, sucked in again. At least this time she only had responsibility for handling the welcome table for the mix-and-mingle dinner on Saturday. The opening ceremonies, as it were.

“And I think that will be the extent of my appearances, too,” she mumbled. Why emphasize the chasm that existed between her and her classmates one more time?

The first reunion hadn’t been so bad in that respect. Everyone either had recently graduated from college or was trying to establish their place in the world in some way. She’d felt on equal footing. At the next, she had been among the few who weren’t married, one of only a handful who hadn’t left the Lexington area. This year, she knew she would be almost alone in her single status. Probably a few of her classmates had been divorced and remarried, even, sampling two or three times what she hadn’t known at all. She would feel odd and provincial, still being unmarried and never having left their small hometown.

Walking with purpose down Main Street, she headed for the Belk’s department store. The reunion committee, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to make the introductory party a retro theme.

“So much more fun,” her friend Mary had explained on the phone last week.

“Fun? But I don’t have anything I can wear to a retro party. I’m not even sure what retro clothes are,” Allison had complained.

“Sure you do. Now look, Allison, you must be there. I’m really counting on you. It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Have your hair styled in a flip and find an old bridesmaid’s dress somewhere. Somehow they always look like they’re from the fifties.” With that bit of sage advice she’d hung up to take care of some child-related disaster in the making.

So here Allison was, on her lunch hour and only a few days before the event, trying to find something that filled the requirements. Tugging on the door to Belk’s, she saw the sign posted on the glass: “Closed due to broken pipe. Please visit us again later this week.”

“Great.” Heaving a deep sigh, she wondered where else she could find the kind of dress she needed, in—she glanced at her watch—thirty minutes. Nowhere. She groaned knowing she’d now have to do more shopping than could be handled in a lunch break.

Viewing her reflection in the glass, she noted the lines of fatigue already there, and the week wasn’t over yet. Leaving her plain face starkly exposed, her brown hair was pulled back in a bun, its luster normally hidden under a nurse’s cap. She looked tidy and efficient in the white uniform. But she hurt from the hours on her feet combined with the walk uptown, making her lean to the right in order to take weight off her left leg. The ache added to her weary expression. The last thing she needed was to go shopping.

“Damn!” She hadn’t wanted to go to the reunion in the first place and now she had to rearrange her schedule in order to find a dress she really didn’t want to buy. She turned to trudge back up the street toward the hospital.

Suddenly, a noise caught her attention and she glanced up to find the source, a sign hanging over the sidewalk, squeaking on its hinges. Your Desire, the sign said in fine script. Vintage Clothing. An arrow pointed up the alley where Allison saw another, smaller sign hanging over a doorway. Puzzled, she looked up and down the street. She’d never noticed this sign before. She hadn’t especially noticed this alley, to tell the truth. Vintage Clothing.

“What do I have to lose?” she murmured, dragging herself up the alleyway.

Pushing open the door, she experienced a rush of anticipation, a tingle up her spine. She walked into a store surprisingly different than what she’d expected. From the outside, the storefront appeared tiny. Inside, shelves and racks spaced on each wall extended far into the back, making the shop very deep. She supposed because the windows fronted the alley, the natural light that filled the space seemed filtered, creating a hazy, gauzy ambience.

She stepped farther inside. Background music was loud enough to be heard but not overwhelming. A song by a swing band ended and a Hit Parade ballad by Perry Como began. To her left she saw a Victorian wedding gown hanging on the wall. To her right, a flapper era dress, complete with fringe and sequins. Surely these were reproductions. No one store could have such a wide range of exquisite originals.

“May I help you?”

She started, slapping her hand to her chest. “Oh, I didn’t see you.” The man standing beside her looked like someone she thought she should know. An actor or something. That was it! One of those old actors. What was his name…?

He smiled and she forgot to remember.

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Wrong place, wrong time, right woman #MFRWsteam

This is a blog hop! Please see the end of the post for the link to other
steamy excerpts!

Only a Good Man Will Do by Dee S. KnightBlurb for Only a Good Man Will Do:
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:
KU

Excerpt:
Daniel couldn’t wait to get Eve to the bedroom. When he heard the click of MFRW Steamthe lock, it was as though they’d pushed the world away and existed alone in that island of an apartment.

What are you doing? Are you out of your fucking mind? He was where he shouldn’t be and with a woman he shouldn’t be. And he didn’t give a damn.

He backed her against the door. “Take off your clothes.”

Locking onto his eyes, she started unbuttoning her blouse. She must be as crazy as he. If he said the wrong word at the Academy, her son would be out, yet she—

“Wait a minute. Swear you aren’t doing this to keep your son in school.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed then widened. “Are you using his position at Westover as a threat?”

“Hell, no.”

“I want you as much as you want me. That’s the only reason I let you in this apartment.”

Satisfied, he nodded. She loosened the last button and let her blouse fall to the floor. Still watching his eyes, she reached behind and unhooked her bra. Her breasts were large, but not overly so. He cupped one. The stiffened peak of her nipple scraped his palm as he massaged her. He removed his hand and raised his eyes back to hers.

She unzipped and unsnapped her jeans. He crowded her but in a great stripper move, she slithered down the door, pushing her jeans and panties with her. On her haunches in front of him, she unbuckled his belt. He reached in his pocket for the rubber he’d brought and let her free his cock as she pulled down his trousers and briefs.

Her breath was hot on him, and her tongue like a branding iron striking across the crown, licking up his pre-cum and dipping into the tiny slit as though digging for more. Her mouth surrounded the head of his cock, hot and wet and so inviting. He closed his eyes and pushed forward, letting the heat envelope him, burn him. He withdrew and the cold air on his tender flesh sent a shiver through him, a shiver she sensed because she surged forward, covering him in heat again. When she pulled back, she wrapped her warm hand around his exposed rod. His cock twitched, gliding like a snake into the recesses of her mouth, sliding ever so slightly past the mouth of her throat. His balls tightened, so ready to let go. Daniel pulled back.

“Here,” he said, handing her the condom. It took her no time to apply it, then, unbelievably, she stood in the tiny space he allowed.

This time, Daniel crouched before her, removing her shoes and slipping the jeans over her feet. He parted her legs and licked his way from ankle to thigh. Her skin smoothed over his cheek, a length of silk leading to the apex, an amazing thatch of soft curls. He nuzzled and her aroma overtook him, the warm, musk scent making his dick pulse with need. With a groan, she widened her stance. He parted her lower lips and studied her. Already, dew drops of her essence glistened along her lips and the entrance to her pussy. His tongue lapped it up, stroking a path to her clit.

“Oh, God!” She slapped her hands against the door.

She was wet enough, especially after his brief exploration. Another time he’d take more care. Right now, he only wanted to feel her around him, to be lost in her touch, her scent, her woman’s heat that could bring the strongest man to his knees.

He stood and lifted her over him. “Are you ready?” His voice was hoarse, the taste of her still on his tongue spurring his desire and emptying him of all reason.

“More than ready.”

In a single stroke he drove into her. She cried out.

“Did I hurt you?”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as he could get. His hands kneaded her ass. Her hips undulated, grinding into him.

“Harder,” she whispered in his ear.

“Oh, God,” he moaned. Feeling like a man of iron, he pounded her back against the door. Someone had started another song in the bar below and the steady bass beat a feral rhythm to which he stroked. Steel sheathed in liquid fire, he drove in and pulled out. In and out, in and out, to the beat from below, to the pounding of his heart, to the grunts of pleasure Eve made while he hammered her to the door.

And then his balls clenched against her butt and he came, hard, strong, for what felt like forever. At the same moment, Eve moaned, holding him tight while her muscles clamped, seeking to trap him deep within. No problem there. He was deep and long and right where he wanted to be. She was tight and strong and hard around him.

They stood there until he had nothing left to give and the ripples of her orgasm died away. His mouth sought hers, drinking and sipping and nuzzling. For the first time, he noticed her hands tangled in his hair. Her tongue invaded his mouth, taking command in a way he found arousing. Incredibly, his heart sped and his breathing quickened. Damn, he couldn’t wait to have her again.

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Raising children #MFRWauthor

Values to teach childrenI can’t think of any job in the world more important but harder to do well than parenting. When you think of the million of things a parent can do wrong, it boggles the mind. And even if you do most everything right, the kid can decide to screw it all up and leave parents wondering where they went wrong. The good news is, no one does it perfectly, and most kids turn out okay and grow up to have their own kids so they can worry about doing things wrong. It’s a beautiful circle.

So, when we think of the most important value to teach a child, it’s impossible to narrow it to one. We want our children to be honest, self-sufficient, loving, hard-working, trustworthy, etc. Sigh. But if I have to pick one, I’ll say that teaching your child to love is the most important.

When parents teach their children to love—not just others, but themselves—they are also teaching respect for life. Loving means they don’t hurt others purposefully and that they learn to say “I’m sorry” when they do it accidentally. It means they learn to share and give to help those who can’t help themselves. It means they grow up trying to do the right thing and not to cause harm.

How do we teach kids to be loving? One way—the best way, I think—is by Parents and childrenexample. If parents show love for each other as well as for their children, they demonstrate what a good relationship is. It builds a web of love that can’t help but extend to outside the family structure.

Perhaps I make it all sound easy. It isn’t. As a parent, loving means being consistent, so the child learns. It means correcting behavior that doesn’t show caring, even when correcting is hard to do. It means taking time to be loving, even when it seems there is no time. It means doing your regular job, but never forgetting that parenting is the real job.

We’re going through a crazy, topsy-turvy world right now, and we could use a lot more love. If we teach our kids to love themselves and each other, I think the ideal will spread from generation to generation, keeping everyone’s little corner of the world a better place.

What do you think is the best value to teach?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist: old letters put the lie to Sara’s life. Now, mending her past mistakes while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.

One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

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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Heroines—how they shape up #MFRWauthor

Slim or full-figuredI don’t think I’ve consciously given a thought as to why I normally create my heroines as slim or slender. I don’t think I purposely avoid the full-figured heroine, but maybe in some way I do. It’s definitely something I will consider in the future. The fact is, full-figured women are as beautiful as slim women.

Just a few short years ago, full-figures were considered sexy. Hourglass figures are also considered full-figured—think Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Russell, Britney Young, or one of my favorite celebrities, Nigella Lawson. Full-figured womanCurvy is great. Curvy is good. Know why? Because beauty comes from within, not at the makeup table or on the scale. It comes from loving yourself and being happy with who you are.

The one sort of disadvantage I can think of for full-figured women is that clothes aren’t easy to buy. Find something that fits the bust and it might not fit the waist. Clothes for women are too often designed for the mythical woman—perfectly proportioned, little hips, and where anything above size 10 is considered plus size. Full-figured woman have hips. They have boobs. They have a little heft to them. When I write my full-figured heroine—and I have her in mind already—I’m going write about clothes shopping, too.

Sexy, full-figured womanWhat about you? Does it bother you to write (or read) about a woman who isn’t a size 6?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Does the figure make the woman?—Jan Selbourne #MFRWauthor

Are my characters full figured or always slim? That is a good question because I try to avoid stereotypical characters such as a woman with an eye watering figure – because I don’t have an eye watering figure – or a Superman with rippling muscles. I want my characters to be like you and me, real and believable, warts and all. I realise now that my characters’ figures reflect their lives and trials and tribulations.

Perilous Love by Jan SelbourneIn my first book, Perilous Love, Gabrielle thought of herself as thin, shapeless and uninteresting. That shapeless figure would be her saviour when she and husband Adrian, whom she despised, were badly betrayed as world war one exploded over Europe. Adrian, the quintessential upper-class Englishman is very conscious of his masculine physique until injury renders him helpless. The only way they narrowly escaped capture was to disguise themselves as male peasants on the terrifying journey to safety.

In Lies of Gold, Julian has the hard, toned body of a soldier, trained in unarmed combat. Without those years of hard living, he could not have stopped the ruthless traitor peddling young people for gold. Katherine, the woman Julian loved and lost, is more worried about her children’s safety than her figure, until Julian comes back into her life.

War changes a man. For Harry Connelly in The Proposition, it’s down to a bullet on the Western Front or arrest and prison at home. Severely injured, he falls beside the body of a dead soldier with the same build, same colouring—his one chance of a new life. What the hell—he swaps identity discs. Now Andrew Conroy, repatriated home with a limp and a small pension, he’s more worried about being caught than his physique. When he meets Lacey Haines, he sees a beautiful woman. Lacey has been a nurse on the European front and she needed strength and stamina more than she needed a reed-thin figure. Does it matter to Andrew? Not likely.

In The Woman Behind the Mirror, Sarah Forsythe’s lovely face and The woman Behind the Mirror by Jan Selbournehourglass figure are her assets, and she’s very aware of that when eloping to the American colonies. When everything she trusts deserts her, Sarah must sell those assets to survive – and in that mirror, every day, she sees a loathsome harlot in a gambling club. It’s not until Neil McAllister, who by the way has a damn good body, investigates her for possible bank fraud, that she has the courage to see herself as she once was.

It never ceases to amaze me that every book has a different story to tell with characters that draw us in and, in a lot of cases, characters we can relate to. That’s the beauty of it.

What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Jan

The Woman Behind the Mirror
The Proposition
Lies of Gold—Silver Historical for 2019: Coffee Pot Book Club

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.

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