Make me laugh! #MFRWauthor

CharactersOver the years of reading, I’ve fallen in love with angsty characters (ooo-la-la, Mr. Darcy!), sweet characters (Donald in Finding Camlann), quirky characters (Don in The Rosie Project), and any number of alpha males (any of the SEALS in Suzanne Brockmann’s books). But the character that will steal my heart for real, is the one who shows humor. That goes for male or female. If a character makes me laugh, that’s most often a 5-star read for me.

I love good banter. Whether characters hate each other or feel that first Banter and humor in dialoguespark of electricity, if they also share a great back and forth in their dialogue, I consider that a winner. Sarah Ney has written a series called How to Date a Douchebag, and all of them contain great banter, Her books make me laugh—and a few have made me tear up. Spectacular interaction. In fact, while writing this post I started reading one of the books in the series again. So, if you’ll excuse me, I plan to add a little humor to my afternoon.

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

On a planet far, far away #MFRWHooks

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

The Triple S Bride by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
For most women, one husband is more than enough to handle. But Sabina Volt has three mates. Gosh, that would have been nice to know before she’d left Earth in the dust. Being a mail-order bride on a planet far, far away might be more of a challenge than she’d anticipated.

Buy links:

Amazon https://tinyurl.com/y67f948v
B&N https://tinyurl.com/y6clqmur

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
“Do you need help with your bags, ma’am?”

Sabina Volt looked up into the earnest young face of the transporter steward. He set her two duffel bags beside the seat, retrieved from the storage closet assigned her. Once petrified of stepping aboard a plane or shuttle, Sabina now wished she could hide in the cabin and avoid disembarking. She no longer had that option—she had to get off.

She shoved to her feet. “No thanks. These are all I have.” A glance up the aisle showed an empty cabin. Though the young man’s face didn’t show impatience, he probably wished she’d get her sorry ass in gear so he could leave.

The steward politely stood aside so she could follow the flashing green lights embedded in the floor leading to the hatch. Dragging her feet as much as possible, dread building with each step, she made her way.

How had she ended up here? It had been sheer madness, signing a contract as a mail-order bride to a man she didn’t know in order to escape a man she knew all too well. But the remaining ache from nearly-healed broken ribs proved that most any action would be better than staying on Earth as Kevin Groman’s punching bag.

“Thank you for flying with us,” said another steward at the hatch.

“Sure,” Sabina muttered. Hopefully she wouldn’t soon fly with them or anyone else. Not back to Earth at least, or anywhere near her former fiancé.

She took a deep breath, eyeing the length of insulated portable structure connecting the shuttle to the terminal. You’ve come this far. Don’t turn coward now. “It’s going to be all right,” she muttered. “Buck up.”

The lights in the terminal stung her eyes, and after the quiet of the shuttle the noise struck her like a living thing. Comm sets dotted the walls every fifty feet or so, all sending out the latest news from Earth at top decibels. Dozens of people, mostly men and shuttle crews, stood around watching the sets or holding shouted conversations over the din. She blinked and stood a moment, adjusting to the new environment.

Then she saw him. Or at least, the cowboy with crossed arms who leaned insolently against the check-in desk sure looked like Walter Sheridan. She’d stared at his hologram often enough to have his features memorized, yet the man watching her wasn’t exactly what she expected.

His face looked sculpted from stone, with a squared chin and sharp cheekbones. Wives’ tales claimed smiling caused wrinkles, but no tell-tale lines marred this man’s face. He had the coloring of someone with brown hair, but she couldn’t tell the color because a sweat-stained, dusty cowboy hat covered his head. When their gazes met, his eyes gave her pause. Green as late spring fields depicted in laser paintings, they were also penetrating and unforgiving. This man wouldn’t trust easily or give any quarter. Like Kevin.

Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe. For a panicky moment she thought she might pass out. Turn around! Get back on that shuttle. Make them pry you out if need be. She swung back toward the door only to find it locked. Fanning her face with her hand, she had no choice but to find someplace to hide. Coming here had been a mistake, a horrible mistake. Run! Anywhere would be better than—

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t look but knew instinctively who stood beside her and took her elbow. He firmly guided her to a chair. When she sat, he forced her head down between her knees.

“Breathe,” he ordered.

“I’m fine,” Sabina said at last, and she did feel better, though a little silly. Kevin was a long way off. It might have taken her half a year and two beatings, but she finally regained her mind, took back her life and escaped him. The method might prove cowardly and impulsive, but she didn’t care. As long as coming here didn’t mean jumping from the solar roaster into the core generator.

Please don’t let Walter be like Kevin!

With her head down she couldn’t help but notice the dust covering his boots and the hems of his worn jeans. This was the way he came to meet his new bride? The lack of care on his part didn’t bode well. She chose this planet for its distance from Earth and Kevin, thinking her former fiancé would never find her here, or think it not worth the trouble and expense to come for her. She had to stay, she had to. Yet if Walter took so little care when coming to meet his new bride, what did it say about his wanting a wife? “I’m fine,” she repeated, then added, “Thanks.”

Then she had no choice. She looked up. And up. Warm pools of emerald colored eyes stared back with a hint of worry. His shirt wasn’t in much better shape than his jeans and boots. A threadbare collar topped a dull khaki colored shirt almost completely faded. Spots of rust-red plaid marked the fabric here and there. He’d rolled up his sleeves, showing muscled, tanned forearms sprinkled with light-colored hair.

“Are you Sabina Volt?”

She nodded.

He stared a moment longer, examining her face. He must have agreed that she was better because he said, “I’d about given up on you bein’ on the transport. Everyone else who got off is long gone. Let’s get out of here.” He scooped up her bags and took a few steps away before stopping to turn around and look. His gaze softened. “You comin’, or do you need another minute?”

In that instant she knew this man was nothing like Kevin. Kevin wouldn’t have given her a moment’s thought. Sabina’s stomach stopped its loop-de-loops, and her head quit spinning. Standing, she said, “Before we go, I’d just like to be sure of who you are.”

He took in a breath and huffed it out. “We don’t have time to waste pulling out papers. You have my hologram. You should know I’m Walt Sheridan. Your future husband.” He stared and waited, as though letting that sink in. “Now hurry. My truck’s parked outside and the sooner we get going the better.”

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I love humidity…NOT! #MFRWauthor

Summer in VirginiaFor most of my adult life I lived in the South. That is, Virginia (mostly), North and South Carolina. While the winters in those places can be described as mild—not too much snow, but ice instead (yikes!)—even winter has its problems. When it does turn cold and the wind blows, the humidity in the air causes it to to cut right through you. Still, it’s better than having feet of snow to dig through. When we do have ice and snow, it doesn’t usually last too long.

Summers, however, can be downright awful. The temperatures climb well into the 90s F (nto the 30s for you Celsius people 😉) for a good part of July and August. Heat can be hard to take, but heat merged with humidity can drain you of all energy. You sweat more and can easily get dehydrated. Honestly, some days, it’s like breathing water. Humidity + heat is an all-around awful thing!

As I write this, in Greenwood, SC (one place we used to live) it’s 91 degrees FCardinal in the snow (32 C) with a humidity (the amount of moisture in the air) of 57%. That means that the heat index (the temperature it feels like) is 100 degrees (38 C). In Orlando, FL (another place I used to live), the temperature is 93 F (34 C) with humidity of 54%. The heat index is 103 F (40 C). Glad I’m not there today!

Now, Jack and I live in lovely Idaho, and a very dry climate. When we were trucking, we used to say that in Arizona, at 115 F, dry heat doesn’t matter—hot is hot. But we have a dry climate here, too. Some days in August the temperature might get above 100 F for a few days, but the humidity is so low it doesn’t feel too bad. Right now our temperature is 80 F (26.8 C) but the humidity is 32%. The heat index is right at 79 F (36 C). Since we also almost always have a breeze, this is a great climate. Another thing about where we live now, in the evening, as the sun goes down, our temperatures will drop 20-30 degrees. In Virginia, I can’t tell you the number of nights the temperature dropped only 15 degrees until well into the late night/early morning, meaning we slept in uncomfortable conditions.

In the winter, our temperatures can plummet below freezing, but they don’t as a rule, stay that low for very long. The only place we have enjoyed temperatures so much was in San Francisco. Even when the days were hot, the fog would literally roll down the streets from the ocean (like in a scary movie) and the temperatures would drop immediately.

We love where we live now, and a lot of that has to do with the lovely climate!

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

Charity Sunday: Hurricane’s Heroes

Charity Sunday: Dee S. KnightHow 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!


What happens to military and law enforcement dogs who are retired? Some of the lucky ones are adopted, maybe by their previous partners. But due to the services they provided when on duty, they often need specialized care. Hurricane’s Heroes help with that. Hurricane’s Heroes “…provides ‘retired law enforcement and military dogs’ with subsidized veterinary care so they can live a long and healthy life. Often these incredible dogs are the unsung heroes behind the operations put in place to keep us safe.”
Dog handlers and the rest of the team depend on the skills of these remarkable animals. I’m looking forward to contributing to their chance to retire and be “just dogs.”


I can’t think right off of a book I’ve written that has a dog, but I have one that features a horse, so that’s what I’m featuring today.
Regan, Book 1 of the Sisters O’Ryan series

Regan by Jenna StewartBlurb:
Joining in the westward migration, Davey and Regan O’Ryan Stone bought an Oregon farm sight unseen, hungering for adventure. Davey regretted the impulse far past the point of no return, and then he died. Now, unskilled and alone on her farm, Regan fears going home a failure—as a daughter, a wife and a farmer. With money quickly running out, she gladly accepts the offer of help from Seth Pratt, an acquaintance from the wagon train, and his friend Haywood Lawrence.

One-armed Seth seeks work at the remote farm at the end of an Oregon trail with low expectations. When he finds Regan, alone and widowed, he tamps down desire. She deserves better than a man handicapped in war, searching for his soul. She’s worthy of someone like his Shakespeare-spouting, best friend, Hay. Nothing could have prepared Seth for Regan’s simple solution—that both men stay. On the farm and in her bed.
“I might not have recognized her right off, but I sure haven’t ever forgotten her, Koda,” he whispered. “She’s alone out here, and she needs help.” The horse nodded his head and then whinnied. “You’re right,” Seth conceded. “It’s too much to think there’s a place for me here.”

Book links:
Amazon
B&N

Excerpt:
Koda stomped his front left hoof and shook his mane, before calmly munching on another mouthful of hay.

Seth clicked his tongue. “I know. There’s no need my arguing with the notion.”

“So you do carry on conversations with your horse, Mr. Pratt.”

Seth spun around, dropping the brush. “Mrs. Stone. I didn’t hear you.”

She smiled. “I only came down to make sure you found everything to your satisfaction.”

“The bunkroom is nice, and Koda is very happy with his stall.”

She stepped forward and stroked the Appaloosa’s nose. “He’s beautiful. What does Koda mean?”

“It’s Sioux for friend.”

“Well named.” Regan took a carrot from her pocket and fed it to the horse. She gestured toward the pinto in the neighboring stall. “That’s Twinkle. It’s Carolinian for she makes my eyes shine. At least according to my daddy. He says when he gave her to me for my fifteenth birthday, my eyes lit up. He named the horse on the spot.” She strolled over to feed Twinkle a carrot, too.

Hay came around the stall and leaned on the post. Seth didn’t care at all for the familiar way his eyes followed Regan Stone’s every movement. Then Seth leaned against Koda and gave in, watching her graceful walk. Her voice fell on his ears like a melody. Auburn tendrils escaped from a loose bun and framed her small, round face. Her father had named the horse aptly. Her eyes did twinkle, but not just when she looked at the pinto. Her height lent her a regal air. He longed to hold her against him. With her slender frame and unusual height, they would fit perfectly.

Don’t think about it. It will never happen. Daydreams aside, the differences in their social stature and culture leapt out at him. Still, arousal struck just watching her stroke her horse’s nose. He imagined her stroking him and gasped at the flame of desire that struck. When she swung back toward him he thought she must have heard.

“I almost forgot!” She smiled over Seth’s shoulder to the next stall. “Here’s a carrot for your horse, too, Hay.” Then she walked to the end stall where another horse stood quietly. “And one for you, Jethro.”

Seth didn’t think to wonder about the fourth horse in the barn. His conscious thought stopped when she called Hay Hay. Seth knew her first, or knew of her, more accurately, and that scoundrel had worked his charm on her to the point she already used his nickname. Good thing he was leaving. The knowledge that Hay would soon be far from Regan took the sting out of the fact that he, too, had to go now that there was no job.

“…I’ll see you then,” she said.

What had she said? His indignation over her use of Hay had waylaid his mind. “All right,” he replied, hoping he wouldn’t end up making a damn fool of himself.

With another smile, she strode from the barn leaving Seth in more emotional turmoil than he’d known in years.

“Now there’s a nice lady,” Hay said.

“She’s awright.” Seth vigorously set to work on Koda’s coat, not wanting to talk to Hay about anything right now, but especially not about Regan.

“All right? Bullshit, my taciturn friend. Too bad there’s no job after all. I might have considered staying on for awhile myself.”

“Right, too bad.”

Hay’s laugh came through the wooden slats. “I think she likes you.”

“Sure. Talk about bullshit.” Since coming home from the war, Seth made a habit of not meeting people’s eyes. Pity filled others’ expressions all too often and he didn’t like dealing with it. His heart had stuttered when he took a good look at the woman standing at the foot of the porch steps. Regan Stone had made an impression that one, brief time they’d met, but he’d kept his distance after that.

“She remembered you. She didn’t remember me. We were on that wagon train together, weren’t we?”

She had remembered him, hadn’t she? “Not hard to recollect a man with one arm. As for you, too bad you’re so damn forgettable.”

Hay laughed again. His laughter was one reason Seth enjoyed his company so much. Though he rarely engaged in the activity, he couldn’t help thinking his soul benefitted from the sound.

“You and I both know too many ladies along our path who disprove that theory,” Hay taunted.

“You have left quite an impression on the women of the west. Not all of it favorable, I might add.”

“Still, I wouldn’t mind rolling around the bed with our lovely widow. I wonder if she would consider—”

Before he could utter another word, Seth had Hay pinned to the stall. “You will not touch her in a frivolous manner. She’s no light skirt, you bastard.”

Hay’s face split into a wide grin. “I knew it. You like her, too.”

“She’s a widda, for God’s sake. Not even out of mournin’.”

“I know,” Hay said softly. “I was only shittin’ you.”

Seth huffed and let Hay go. “Yeah, well, go to hell.”

Hay slapped Seth’s back. “I think you have a touch of lovesickness, man. Maybe you should give up this idea of settling down and come with me to the coast. There’s bound to be something exciting for a couple of troublemakers like us that will take your mind off the beautiful widow.”

“I think I’ll stick it out around here for a while. Maybe look in town for a job.”

Hay shook his head. “She has you flustered, I can tell.”

Seth went back to finish Koda. “How?”

“You rarely talk to a person this much.” Hay chuckled and picked up his jacket.

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No time like the present #MFRWauthor

Writing romanceWhile I have dipped my toe into the future and the past with my writing, I feel most comfortable writing in present, contemporary time. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy? I don’t know. But writing historical fiction takes a fair amount of research if your books come out sounding true. And there’s a lot to keep up with if you build future worlds. (Same is true if you create series in contemporary time, I’ve discovered!) But because of our trucking years, we traveled over a lot of the country and I feel pretty happy drawing on our experiences to write about all kinds of locations.

And it is important to write truthfully about locations—unless you make up your city or town. I know someone who couldn’t get beyond the first few pages of Fifty Shades of Gray because she said it was so obvious the author knew nothing about Seattle! A reader recently pointed out that I had a horse eating straw instead of hay. Oops! Those kinds of mistakes are always on the author, and whatever time period you write, it’s vital to get details correct.

The biggest thing to remember about writing, no matter the time period,How to write is that we are telling a story. Make it a good one. Show, don’t tell, Engage the reader’s emotions. Have a great beginning, middle, and end. Mind your craft (grammar, punctuation, POV, etc.). Pay attention to details. If you do these things, you will be read (which is what we all want) regardless of the time period you choose.

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

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Do you know who you’re talking to?? #MFRWauthor

I told Jack once that if our marriage ever ended for whatever reason, I would never date again—I’d enter a convent. That convent part might have been a bit of hyperbole, but I was pretty serious about never dating again. Dating takes a lot of effort. And time. Do you know how long it takes to feel comfortable enough with someone before you don’t die of embarrassment if you accidentally let go a little wind? No thanks. I dated for a few years in my life and that was plenty enough. Been there, done that, got the tee shirt.

But even if I were interested in dating again, I would never, ever have the courage to go online. I mean, do you even know who you’re talking to?? Okay, sure, there are lots of anecdotal stories out there about people who connected online and lived happily ever after. Even I know personally of three stories where people met online and got married. But what is that against the number of failures? Women meet enough frogs who want to be kissed in real life without having to go online to meet them, too.

So, my vote is no to online dating. So far never had to, and never plan to, either. Women should meet guys and be disappointed—or thrilled—the old-fashioned way, face-to-face.

That’s just my opinion, What do you think?

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

Oops! This won’t work #MFRWHooks

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

Naval Maneuvers by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
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.

Dropping Anchor (securing movement by dropping the anchor): Two people find (surprisingly) that they are both in the Navy and love their chosen professions—until one turns out to be an officer but not a gentleman and the other is a gentleman but not an officer.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:

Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.

“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.

“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”

How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.

She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.

“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”

She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?

Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.

Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.

The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.

Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.

“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”

She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.

“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”

“That’s pretty shallow.”

Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”

Stupid answer. But it had been his very maleness that captivated her. Well, and orgasms. Who’s shallow now?

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Fun and games–traveling outside the U.S. #MFRWauthor

I admit to not having traveled outside the U.S. very much. And it’s sad because I love going to new places and meeting people and seeing things. However, the U.S. is so beautiful and diverse, there are places here I haven’t seen and should.

My first trip outside the U.S. was when Jack and I were traveling. We went into Canada a fair amount. We didn’t have much time to sightsee or have fun except once, when we rented a car and drove from Calgary to Banff and up the Icefield Parkway to Jasper. What a great time! Besides the scenery, the park at Jasper had opened a little early. We were just about the only guests in the restaurant—where Jack had trout they’d caught in the river practically outside the door. The cabins where we stayed were close enough to hear the rushing water as the spring snowmelt headed downstream. The trip was only for a weekend but it was so special that I remember it as though it were yesterday.

I’ve been lucky enough to have visited Great Britain and Scotland a few Scotland and castletimes. Each has been an enlightening experience. I love Scotland! The people are so friendly and the country feels like home to me. Maybe in another time and another life…? England proper is also wonderful. What a great city York is! So walkable, so historical. I loved my time there. The same for Oxford, where I attended the OxBridge program for teachers one summer. However, I wished Oxford had a few more benches around!

My sister-in-law talked me into going to Italy several years ago. To tell the truth, I wasn’t all that excited to see Italy, but she wanted someone to go with her and Jack encouraged me, so I went. She promised that once I saw Italy I’d want to go back again. The woman spoke truth! We spent time in Venice, Florence, and Rome, Each city was so different, and yet so the same. So much history, so much art. Too much to take in, in any one visit—or two or ten.

So where would I like to go if I were able to travel? I could happily go back to any of those places again. I’d also like to see Croatia and that whole peninsula, and I’d love to meet my pal, Jan in person! Australia and New Zealand, here I come!

I wish!!

What is your dream trip?

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

What’s a guy to do? #MFRWHooks

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

 One Woman Only by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
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:

He lifted his finger to signal the barkeep, who slung a towel over his shoulder and came right down.

“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.”

Irritation struck Jonah right between the eyes at Kelly’s tone if not her words. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“So,” interrupted the barman, “two burgers and fries?” He looked at Jonah. “You paying?”

“Sure,” he said at the same time she said, “No.”

“I don’t mind,” Jonah said.

“No thank you,” Kelly said stiffly. She held out a crisp, new twenty-dollar bill. “Rare as you’ll cook it. Add a bottle of Sam Adams to that, will you? And I’ll be sitting over there in that back booth.”

The guy behind the bar took her money and scribbled on a pad of paper. “Change will come with your beer.” He looked to Jonah. “You?”

“Medium rare on the burger, and I’ll take a refill on my beer.” Standing, he dug out a wrinkled twenty from his front pocket and handed it over. “I’ll be somewhere near that back booth.” The guy nodded and left. Turning, Jonah noticed that Kelly had already gone. She sat as prim as could be, in the back of the dining room, in the booth she’d claimed. A two-top table sat empty next to the booth. Grabbing his beer, he ambled in that direction.

Why in the world, after all the angst he’d suffered knowing he was going to have to see her this weekend, did he now willingly sit near Kelly? He must have some masochist thing going on that he never noticed before. He placed his beer bottle on the table and sat down facing the same direction she faced.

Years ago, she’d worn a lilac fragrance. When the lilacs bloomed each spring since, he’d thought of Kelly. She wore something different now. Jonah was grateful because it provided a break from his memories of her.

“What are you doing? There are any number of other places you could sit, and I wish you would.”

“What was that?” Jonah drawled. “This is a free country and I believe I can sit anywhere I want to. I choose here.”

“Ugh! I thought when we saw each other again you’d be aggravating but I see I underestimated you.” She craned her neck as though looking for another table.

“There’s no place you could move in here right now that I couldn’t find a place close by so let’s just get this initial meeting out of the way and the rest of the weekend will be easier.”

Jonah cast a glance at her and then faced forward again. She didn’t look that much different than when he’d last seen her. How could that be? Same strawberry blonde hair, but cut stylishly short. Her eyes still flashed emerald fire—he’d seen that when she glared at him at the bar. If anything, her shape was more perfect than when they were in high school. Her waist was narrow, her breasts full, and legs that disappeared under her knee-length dress seemed long and curvy. But there was something very different about this Kelly. That glowing, smiling, confident girl he’d fallen in puppy love with and always wondered about had disappeared. In her place sat a woman who looked as though she’d seen a side of the world that had disappointed her.

Protectiveness pushed to the forefront and Jonah wished he could knock her troubles—whatever they were—off her shoulders. One thing remained the same. She still made his heart beat erratically, still had him wishing he could hold her—and do more. He needed to get himself under control if he was going to avoid making a fool of himself.

Quietly she sat, grinding her jaw. Then, her shoulders slumped and she laid her head against the back of the booth as though it was just too heavy to hold up any longer. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Here, let’s make this easier.” He stood up and then slid into the booth across from her. All the better to stare into her eyes and study her plump lips that looked so kissable he nearly groaned.

Fire flashed in the emerald depths of her eyes again. “I didn’t invite you to sit with me.”

“Are you sure? Sorry. I thought you did.” The waitress brought their beers and change. Jonah handed her back a five and gave her a broad smile. “Thanks. I’ll have my dinner here, too, okay?”

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Whatever the kind, give me chocolate! #MFRWauthor

It used to be a tradition in Jack’s family to give Whitman’s Samplers at Christmas. Ooo! I loved that gift! And it was a sign of Jack’s love for me that he used to let me have all the caramels. However, other than chocolate covered caramels, and some candy bars like Baby Ruth, I’m not much of a chocolate lover. Jack could consume his weight in chocolate and be a happy camper, but not me. A piece of cake that he could eat two servings of, I can handle a couple of bites and I’m done.

I guess I’m that rare (strange) woman who isn’t a huge fan of the treat that has such a great effect on emotions and well-being. I had a feeling, though, that someone has matched personalities to chocolate, and I was right. I found two sites that explain how which chocolate we pick from the box shows something about us. For me, I’m an introvert (I pick the squares and rectangles), and I’m happy (caramel). Since it doesn’t matter whether the chocolate is dark or milk—as long as there’s caramel inside—I can be either a hard charger up for a challenge (dark) or relaxed and romantic (milk). It depends on the day, I suppose.

Here are two sites I found fun to read: The Westbridge Hotel blog and Charbonnel et Walker blog. Have fun deciding which personality fits your chocolate preferences! How accurate were your choices?

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