RELEASE DAY: RosaLinda Diaz "Bee Keeping"

Blurb:

Poppy’s life is in shambles, or at least that’s how it feels. As Poppy struggles against her decision to walk away from Michael, maid of honor duties, a bachelorette cruise, new dreams, and maybe even a chance for love interrupt her summer pity party. Will she seize the chance for a happy ending, or stay rooted in the past?

Several months of denial have revealed the truth. Michael can’t ignore his feelings for Poppy any longer, but what should he do about them? He teeters on the edge of a life changing decision. Will he disrupt his old life in order to create a new one, or succumb to the status quo.

 

 

Author:

RosaLinda Diaz was raised in a particularly magical section of Los Angeles; between the original Disney Hyperion Studios and Snow White’s Cottages. The magic in the air and soil gave her al-ready active imagination roots and wings. Wings that took her gypsying around Europe, Austral-ia, and Africa, and roots that brought her back to California to earn her B.A. at Pepperdine Uni-versity. She makes her home in California’s Central Coast igniting the fire of creativity and sparking imaginations with her creative endeavors.

 

 

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

Act of Contrition – Poppy

The tiny box is warm and comforting. I wait for him to slide the partition open.

“Who is the patron saint of hopeless cases?” I blurt out, completely ignoring protocol.

“That’s an odd question. Why do you want to know?” He asks, interest piqued.

“I’m thinking of applying for sainthood. If that cause isn’t already taken.”

His big, booming, belly laugh shakes the flimsy mesh partition separating us. “Tell me what you have to confess.”

My eyes start to water. I hate admitting when I’m wrong. Which is why I haven't been to confession in ages. That’s not exactly why.

“I’ve fallen in love, Father,” I say, picking at the fraying fabric screen.

“There is nothing sinful about that. Go on.”

“He’s married. I told him I couldn’t see him anymore, but we kissed, made out actually. I guess if I’m going for total honesty here, we did a whole lot more than just make out. Now I just feel hopelessly lost.”

He’s silent for a moment. I’m not worried. Surely, he's heard worse over his years in the confessional, right? I can feel a hot, prickly blush creeping up my neck.

“Love is one of God’s greatest gifts. In fact, it is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Your love for this man, though displaced, is not sinful, I feel. However, engaging in physical expressions of that love, on the other hand, is.” He pauses, probably to let the full weight of my actions sink in, or maybe he wants the dirty details. Either way I dissolve into the ugly cry. “Don’t cry. This is not a place of sorrow, but forgiveness. Hush, hush,” he says.

“I do feel sorrow, Father. This man, this wonderful man is woven into my sorrow by so many threads. I can’t separate him from them, or I’ll unravel,” I say, sniffling.

“You are not comprised of sorrow. Our Father did not make you to dwell in unhappiness.”

I know he’s right, but all I feel inside of me is sorrow. It's as if I’m a one-sided coin eternally landing face down.

“Now,” he continues a little hesitantly, waiting for me to compose myself. I’m probably scaring away the other confessors waiting outside. “No one is perfect, except our Lord.” He pauses. “How long ago was this?”

“A few months, more like three months,” I say a little wistfully, remembering the last time Michael and I were together. When the priest speaks again, my mind is far away. I barely register his question.

“Why did you wait so long to confess?”

“Honestly?”

“That is usually best,” he replies dryly.

“I wasn’t sorry...for any of it.”

“Have you any plans to see this man again?”

“No! I haven't even returned any of his calls, and there have been a few that were really difficult to ignore, let me tell you.”

“That’s good, about not calling, I mean.”

“Do I get extra credit for that?” I ask hopefully. He doesn’t answer, just chuckles. I assume that’s a no.

“I have an important question to ask you Poppy. Do you want to be a path of destruction for this man?”

The gravity of his words settle around my shoulders like heavy chains. Path of destruction? I shake my head, unable to find the words, unable to contemplate being anything but a source of joy and happiness for him.

“If you truly love this man, as you say you do, you’ll only want what is best for him. What is that?” he asks, then waits patiently.

RELEASE DAY: Tracy Blalock "Courting Misfortune"

 

Blurb:

Madeline Haversham wanted to gain the attention of a certain gentleman, but tumbling into an ornamental pond is not how she had envisioned achieving her aim.  Snaring a husband is proving more difficult than she had imagined, as she cannot seem to make it through a Season without countless mishaps.  No sane man would willingly wed her, when she has already broken the nose of one would-be suitor.  Unfortunately, Jonathan Danforth is honor-bound to offer for her hand.

 

Author:

Tracy Blalock lives in Southern California with her family and assorted pets.  In her free time she is most likely to be found with a book in her hands.  She has always had a passion for history, earning a Bachelor of Arts in History, which she has put to good use penning historical romances.  When she is not reading or writing, she enjoys traveling to historic sites off the beaten path, which she uses as inspiration to dream up new characters and stories.

 

 

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Excerpt:

 

Chapter One

 

London, April 1815

 

Madeline Haversham wanted to gain the attention of a certain gentleman.

But not like this.

Sitting in an ornamental pond with slimy green water dripping from her person was not how she had envisioned this scene playing out.

A short time before, while in her bedchamber, she was passing the time staring out the window, weaving pretty fairy tales. Her true love would spot her across a crowded ballroom and finally see she was a woman grown—no longer a clumsy, foolish child. Stunned by her beauty and poise, he would fall madly in love and beg her to be his bride.

Her head filled with romantic musings, she had believed it must surely be part of her daydream when through her leaded glass window she chanced to see the object of her imaginings, walking in the garden with her brother, Morgan.

For a moment, she considered the possibility her hero had been conjured by her fanciful thoughts, as Mr. Jonathan Danforth was generally kept busy with estate matters and rarely made it up to London during the Season.

With severely limited opportunities where he might take notice of her, Maddie was determined to make the most of the unexpected chance she had been granted. After hastily changing into her best walking gown and taking special care to ensure she looked as fetching as possible, she hurried outside to the garden.

Tracking the movements of the two men on the other side of a hedge, she paused out of sight, carefully calculating the exact moment when she would step out and greet them. She imagined Jonathan’s admiration of her ladylike deportment and appearance during the ‘coincidental’ meeting.

But focused on her mission to make a perfectly timed entrance, she did not pay close attention to where she was placing her feet, and she tripped over a stone. Stumbling, she pitched sideways into the pond, which was the focal point of her father’s manicured grounds.

In the comfort of her bedchamber, it had appeared to be the most extraordinary luck that she had spied her elusive gentleman taking a turn around the gardens in the company of her brother. But now, with her torso and knees poking from a few feet of murky water, it seemed a cruel jest played by fate. It was unlikely the men would not have been alerted to her presence.

Wet hunks of hair hung over her eyes, preventing her seeing their approach, but she knew the moment the pair rounded the hedge and caught sight of her, as Morgan started braying like a donkey.

She must look an absolute fright! She could feel her once sophisticated coiffure was now completely askew, sliding down the side of her head. She had the mortifying feeling she was wearing a lily pad for a hat, and her favorite gown was ruined beyond repair.

Pushing her waterlogged blonde tresses out of her eyes, she wiped dirty water from her face. With her vision clear, she viewed two pairs of immaculate glossy black boots—and her horrifying countenance reflected in them, times four! Though distorted, she could see her appearance was even worse than she had feared and a far cry from the ladylike image she had intended to portray.

She looked like a troll!

Tearing her gaze from the dismaying sight, she raised her eyes.

Her brother was bent over double, holding his sides, and laughing so hard he was in danger of toppling over. He clearly found her present misfortune enjoyable, but she doubted he would think the situation as humorous if their positions were reversed.

All that was needed was a bit of a nudge, and he would be sent tumbling into the water. She was sorely tempted to climb out of the pond and do just that, as it seemed the only way guaranteed to squelch his mirth.

 

RELEASE DAY: Christina Lorenzen "A Husband for Danna"

 

Blurb:

Off and running! In her frenzied quest to escape from a groom her father has chosen for her, Danna Rashba ‘borrows’ a limousine parked on Main Street. The last thing on her mind is finding a groom from another wedding in the backseat. What are the chances that the bride and groom from two different weddings running from the altar on the same day? The last thing Danna wants is a hostage as she tries to escape from her nuptials.

The last thing Eric Harmon wants is to be saddled with yet another spoiled, needy woman. He’s furious about this wrench in his plans, he accuses Danna of stealing. He wants to send her home in a cab as soon as they get to the nearest town, but Danna refuses. Much to Eric’s frustration, one thing after another seems to keep them tied together.

Soon the generosity of a local shopkeeper and several people in town have them mistaken for newlyweds. Danna and Eric find themselves stepping into the role as husband and wife leading them to realize they just may be each other’s ‘match’. But will Danna be able to stand up to her rigid, old fashioned father and choose her own husband?

 

 

Author:

Christina Lorenzen started writing as a young teen, jotting stories in wire ring composition notebooks. Her first typewriter made it faster to get all those stories out of her head and down on paper. Her love of writing has sustained her through a myriad of jobs that included hairdresser, legal secretary, waitress and door to door saleswoman. Luckily for her, writing proved to be successful and a lot less walking than going door to door. A Husband for Danna is Christina’s first novel. She is busy working on her next. When she isn’t writing or reading, she can be found walking her dog, talking to her herd of cats and spending time with her family.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

 

Chapter One

 

Panting from the short dash from the church to the curb, Danna looked around wild-eyed, spotting a limo at the curb. The fact that it wasn't her bridal party's limousine didn't matter. She ran around to the driver's side and flung open the door.

The sound of her wedding gown tearing broke the silence in the big empty car. Frustrated, she shoved away the seat belt and fumbled with the ignition key. Fighting the ostentatious bulk of her gown, she wiggled her bottom into the seat. She looked up to see a whirling funnel of pink rushing toward the limousine. In the eye of the storm, a snow-white gown accentuated one very red-faced bride.

A buzzing sound filled her ears. She looked down and saw a small black box, which she recognized as an intercom, between the seats. "Step on it!" a deep male voice boomed from the back seat.

With no time to berate herself for picking an occupied getaway car, she stepped on the gas and sped away from the curb, barely glancing at the side mirror. Drive now, think later. Slapping back the ringlets threatening to spill over her eyes, she checked her mirrors. She was fast approaching the only traffic light in Shady Bridge.

She tried to push the mess she had made from her mind. Goose bumps covered her bare arms despite the unusual October heat. Seeing the light turn yellow, she stepped down hard on the gas pedal and flew through the intersection, her head jerking back and forth. She felt like a balloon as the air sailed from her lips. Apparently her momentarily crazy driving had no effect on her male passenger.

The handful of stores were behind her now, their faded old brick fronts growing smaller in her rearview mirror. Now out of the heart of town, her shoulders began to relax. She took a deep breath as she had seen her mother do countless times during her morning meditation. Even as she relaxed her tense body, she couldn't help but think about what she had done. It was as if she had been someone else — not Danna Rashba, the sensible, practical daughter.

The mix of farmhouses and Victorian homes on the outskirts of town were fading now too. Chewing her lip, she veered onto the ramp that led to Highway Three. Her mind racing, she tried to calculate how many hours she would have to drive to get far enough away from Shady Bridge. Or at least far away enough from Nagpal Singh, her husband-to-be who by now would have found out his bride had run away.

Wriggling in her seat, fighting to flatten the outrageous bustle her sister had talked her into, she cursed herself in silence. Why hadn't she grabbed her t-shirt and jeans? Sighing, she shook her head. What was done was done. At least she had thought to grab the beaded satin clutch she had picked out for the "big day." The petite bag was about the only thing she had picked out on her own. All of the other details of her wedding had been planned for her, including her husband.

Danna kept an even weight on the accelerator as she tried to decide where to go. Of course she would have been able to focus better if not for the images of her very displeased father that flashed in her mind.

Boom! Boom! She had completely forgotten about the body attached to the male voice that had spoken earlier. A low whirring noise filled the quiet car as the privacy screen opened, disrupting her plotting and planning.

A large, tanned hand tapped the driver's seat as he cleared his throat. "I think I've escaped from that mess. Take me home to pick up my vehicle. I'll settle up with you then."

Danna watched him in the rearview mirror, his eyes never looked up from the gadget in his hand. Wriggling to the right, hoping to see the face that went with the gravelly voice, she took in a dark, handsome man pounding buttons on a cell phone.

"It's dead! I don't even have the charger." He seemed oblivious to her as he tossed the phone to the floor. Obviously he had no idea who was driving him.