Friday, November 30, 2018

Someone Like You

The fourth of the Night Riders’ crew finds redemption in the love of a beautiful woman in Someone Like You, an emotional historical Western romance!

Only she can heal his battered heart…

When Rafe Jerry was ordered off his family’s California ranch, he swore never to return. Instead, he ran away to war, where the harsh realities of battle transformed him into a crack soldier—and an unexpected betrayal made him a man to be feared.

Now the war has ended and Rafe is left with two goals: track down the man who betrayed his brothers-in-arms, and fight for the land that should have been his. He has no room in his hardened heart for love…but Maria de la Guerra is like no woman he’s ever known. With her gentle strength and endless compassion, she may be his only chance to let go of the pain of the past—and finally be free.

The war has changed them all, and each of the Night Riders must decide what is more important: love or revenge?

“An emotional, rich, adventurous romance.” —RT Book Reviews for Forever and Always, 4 Stars

A Whole New Woman

Maria allowed herself to kiss him back the way she’d been wanting to kiss him since the first
time he’d kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his, and
covered his mouth with a needy eagerness.
This new Maria wasn’t afraid to acknowledge what she wanted, wasn’t reluctant to
demand that she get it. She didn’t wait for Rafe to deepen their kiss, ratchet up its intensity, or
decide its length. Nor did she wait for him to pull her firmly against him so she could feel the
hardness of his muscles, the breadth of his chest, the strength in his arms.
She tried to reason with this new Maria, to tell her that Rafe loved her, wanted to marry
her, that they would have years to explore what it meant to be together as man and wife, but the
new Maria wouldn’t listen. She wanted everything, and she wanted it now.
For a moment, she could feel Rafe hesitate, but she didn’t mean to let him pull away.
With slow deliberation, she dropped her arms from around his waist, reached up and placed one
hand on each side of his head. She brought his face toward her and let her tongue invade his
All hesitation on Rafe’s part stopped there.

Thursday, November 29, 2018

Excerpt from You Had Me At Cowboy

You Had Me at Cowboy, book 2 in the Cowboys of Creedence series, is out now!

This cowboy is falling hard

Mason James is the responsible one who stayed behind to run the ranch while his brother, Rock, took off to play professional hockey. Women have used him before to get to his brother—and Mason intends never to get burned again. But after he meets quirky Tessa Kane at his brother’s wedding, Mason discovers he’s ready to take a chance on love.

Tessa Kane is a reporter on the verge of losing a job she desperately needs—unless she’s clever enough to snag a story on the famous Rockford James. But when she falls for her subject’s brother, she’s caught between a rock and a hard-muscled cowboy. What will happen when Mason finds out who she really is?

Enjoy this excerpt:I might have just fallen in love…

He wasn’t kidding. There was meat—and beef, as in beefcake—everywhere she turned. Tess didn’t think she’d ever been in a room full of so many beautiful people. Yet she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the cowboy who was piling ribs onto a plate for her.
She was suddenly aware of how many of those beautiful people were also thin and fit, and if she weren’t starving, she’d probably be a little more conscious of her own full curves. But at the moment, she couldn’t care less. Her mouth watered as Mason dumped a scoop of creamy macaroni and cheese next to the ribs.
“This is supposed to be my mom’s recipe. She gave it to the caterers, and they did their best. It’s not quite as good as hers, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
Somebody needs to pinch me, Tess thought as he led her toward a table. She couldn’t believe she’d just walked through a buffet line behind one of her favorite celebrities.
Mason got her settled at a table and signaled for one of the caterers to bring them some drinks. “What are you drinking? Tea? Soda? Wine? It’s an open bar, so get whatever you feel like.”
“What are you getting?” she asked as she lifted a rib and tore off a bite. A moan escaped her lips. “Oh my gosh. These ribs are amazing.”
He chuckled. “I think I’ll get a beer. They’ve got one from a local brewery called Creedence Clearwater, and it’s pretty good.”
“That does sound good. I’ll have one too.”
His eyes widened, then a grin covered his face and his voice fell into a deep, low tone, reminding her of a biscuit dipped in thick, rich honey. “Damn, girl, I haven’t even known you thirty minutes, and I think you’ve already won my heart. You drink beer, eat barbecue like a truck driver, and I’ve already seen you in your bra. I might have just fallen in love.”
Tessa let loose a burst of laughter, but her stomach had dropped at the sound of his words spoken in a slow, sexy drawl.
She’d better be careful, or she might just fall in love herself.
Whoa. Down, girl. Nobody was falling in love with anyone.
She’d already fallen—into a mess of trouble—and the only way she was going to get herself, and her grandmother, out of it was to forget about the distraction of the cute cowboy and stay focused on the task at hand.
But the task at hand was heading toward the dessert table, and it looked like it would be a while before she’d get a chance to talk to Rock, so she might as well enjoy the food—and the company—while she waited.
Mason took his hat off and set it in the center of the table. It was a small gesture of manners but told her a lot about the kind of man Mason James was.
His hat was black—she couldn’t help but wonder at the significance of that detail—but it was also high quality and looked expensive. Obviously, a good hat and not one he donned to work in. A slight hat ring circled his head, a barely noticeable crease in his dark hair, and a shock of his bangs fell across his forehead, giving him an even more rakish look.
The temperature of the room had just increased a notch, or maybe it was just the heat building in her chest as she tried not to squirm in her chair, with her hands clasped tightly in her lap to keep from reaching up and brushing his hair from his forehead.
A petite blond waitress sauntered up to their table and offered Mason two bottles of beer and a suggestive smile.
Grabbing a napkin, Tess wiped the barbecue sauce from her mouth, noting that the perky blond’s shirt fit just fine over her chest.
Perky, petite blonds were so lucky. Tess had always felt like an Amazon around them—and not in warrior princess way, but in a clumsy, too-tall, size-ten clodhopper-shoes way.
Although the heels she wore today were far from clodhoppers. The cute burgundy pumps had cost more than she usually doled out for a pair of shoes, but they’d seemed worth it at the time. But that was before. Before she’d stopped attending parties and before her grandmother had started chatting online with a Nigerian prince.
Still, no matter how much her shoes cost or how shiny their finish was, Tess still felt gawky and self-conscious sitting in front of a plate full of half-devoured ribs while the waitress swung her tiny hips and cute ponytail at Mason.
He didn’t seem to notice as he took the beers, offered her a polite smile, and turned his attention back to Tess.
Score one for the Amazon.
She took one of the bottles and held it up. “What should we drink to?”
He reached his hand toward her face, and she sucked in her breath as he slowly swiped his thumb across her chin. A dab of barbecue sauce garnished its tip, and he sucked it between his lips. Lord, he had amazing lips.
She couldn’t breathe as she watched him lick the tip of his thumb, and she was fairly certain one of her eggs had just dropped.
Swallowing at the dryness in her mouth, she tried to keep from melting right into her chair.
He tipped his bottle toward hers and offered her a cocky grin. “To good barbecue, cold beer, and…”
He hesitated, and she raised an eyebrow as she waited for him to say lacy bras.
Instead, he winked and said, “…and new friends.”
She let out a chuckle and relaxed her shoulders. She liked this guy. Clinking her bottle against his, she repeated, “…to new friends.”

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Earl to the Rescue is out!

Sourcebooks has just released a refurbished version of my very first book Gwendeline, now called Earl to the Rescue.
Gwendeline, just eighteen and totally unsuited to earn her own way in the world, is about to be evicted from her home when butler ushers in a tall, rather arrogant visitor, Lord Merryn. He had, it seemed, been a friend of her late parents, who had lived too well and too briefly — squandering their fortune and then meeting death in a carriage accident.
But Gwendeline is an older orphan than Lord Merryn expected, a young lady who must be introduced to London society. Quickly, he invents a “group of her parents’ friends” to finance her debut. Never must she learn that he alone is her benefactor — or why.
Booklist called the book “an irresistibly sweet literary confection perfect for readers who miss those marvelous traditional Regencies by the likes of Marion Chesney and Barbara Metzger.” Read an excerpt below.

amazon-app-450x450   ibooks-icon-text  barnes-and-noble-iconbooktopia logo   

Alone in her bedchamber later in the day, Gwendeline thought over what the countess had told her. Why had such a sought-after gentleman, the type her father had called a real out-and-outer, taken an interest in her? Why had he been the one to come and fetch her, or the infant he said he’d expected? If he was a leader of the ton, and Gwendeline saw no reason to doubt his mother’s description of his position, what was his interest in her? Friendship with her parents seemed the only possible explanation, but he never spoke to her of them or appeared eager to answer when she tried to do so. Quite the opposite, in fact.
This thought reminded Gwendeline of a series of odd remarks she’d caught since coming to town. Both Lady Merryn and her son had made references she didn’t understand to her “situation.” Gwendeline hadn’t been aware that she possessed a situation in the sense that they used the word; seemingly, it was an awkward one. And she was becoming more and more interested in finding out exactly what it involved. She didn’t relish the thought that the people surrounding her knew more of her circumstances than she, especially since the knowledge must be widespread. Gwendeline’s chin came up. She was determined to find out the truth and not to flinch from it if it turned out to be unpleasant. Anything was better than this uncertainty.
But no opportunity presented itself in the following days, and thus, as Gwendeline stood beside Lady Merryn in the drawing room doorway three weeks later, ready to meet their guests, she felt rather nervous.
She thought she looked well in a dress of white sarsenet; her hair was newly cut and dressed in a cloud of curls called a Sappho by Lady Merryn’s hairdresser. A silver ribbon was threaded through it, and she wore a new silver filigree bracelet, a gift from the countess for her debut, on her wrist. But as Allison called out the first names, and an elegant couple strolled languidly toward them, she wondered what these world-weary Londoners were thinking about her and what she would find to say to them.
An hour later, she was just as uncertain. The countess had introduced her to what seemed scores of people, and she had said “how do you do,” and smiled a great many times. The guests and their names were jumbled together in her mind, and she knew she would never remember what to call anyone. She thought that they’d looked at her with sharp curiosity; indeed, sometimes she’d felt ready to sink under a particularly piercing glance. She longed to sit down for a moment away from the crowd and gather her thoughts.
“I think we can leave the door now, Gwendeline,” said Lady Merryn. “I can greet latecomers inside, and we must give you a chance to become better acquainted with our guests. Come along.” But as they were turning, the Earl of Merryn was announced, and they held back to greet him.
“Alex,” cried his mother. “I’d nearly given you up. You promised you’d come early tonight.”
The earl raised his eyebrows. “But Mother, I am come early. I haven’t arrived at an evening party before ten in years. Your guests will consider it a great compliment.”
His tone annoyed Gwendeline. “Perhaps we should be grateful that you came at all.”
“Indeed you should, Gwendeline,” he replied. “I never attend come-outs. They are uniformly dead bores.” She stifled a tart rejoinder as he went on. “You’re looking delightful. You’ve done an excellent job of fitting her out, Mother.”
Lady Merryn smiled complacently. “She does look well, doesn’t she?”
“I chose my own clothes, sir,” Gwendeline snapped. “I’m not a child.” She faltered. “Of course, I’m very grateful for your help, Lady Merryn, I didn’t mean…”
“Shall we go in?” said the earl, smiling. He offered each lady an arm. His mother accepted, smiling. Gwendeline hesitated but could see no way of avoiding entering the party on his arm. As usual, she was forced to fall in with his plans.
They paused just inside the drawing room doorway. The large space seemed completely filled with people. Heads had turned to look at them, and she knew that the subject of many conversations must be herself, a daunting thought.
The countess stopped to speak to a friend, and Gwendeline continued into the room on Merryn’s arm. A couple left the sofa against the near wall as they advanced, and the earl guided her toward it. “Shall we sit for a moment?” he asked, handing her to a seat. She sank gratefully onto the cushions. He sat beside her and smiled. “You look a trifle uneasy,” he said. “You don’t find your first London evening party altogether pleasant?”
“To be honest, it’s more frightening than pleasant,” said Gwendeline. “Your mother has been so kind and gone to such trouble for me, but I have no idea what to say to any of these people, and the thought that they have all come to see what I’m like is terrifying.”
The earl laughed. “Many of them would be very pleased and flattered to hear you say so.”
“Are they such horrid people,” wondered Gwendeline, “that they enjoy frightening strangers?”
“They enjoy their power to do so, a great many of them.” He looked over the crowd with some contempt. “However, you needn’t fear the ton. It will find you charming.”
“Because you tell it to, my lord?” asked Gwendeline, remembering what his mother had told her.
“Yes,” replied the earl simply. “And there is no conceivable reason for you to look daggers at me because of it. I never asked anyone to care what I thought. Perhaps that’s why they do so.”

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

All Or Nothing by Alyson McLayne

Anybody else have trouble eating just one bite of chocolate or (ah hem) even just one bar? Or put off important tasks until that book you’re reading is done or that Netflix series you’re watching is over? Or you clean your house like a maniac when…OK, let’s be honest I never clean like a maniac.

The other side of binge eating that chocolate, of course, is denying yourself any treats. Or having to pull a couple of all-nighters to finish your work because you spent a week catching up on The Walking Dead. Or you find out you have nothing to wear to your yearly conference, so you go crazy sprinting on your treadmill. Twice.

It’s called “All or Nothing”, and when I was younger it worked for me (kind of). I did everything in spurts. I studied in spurts, wrote papers in spurts, exercised in spurts, partied in spurts.

And when exams were done, I binged on books, movies, getting healthy again—whatever was the opposite if what I’d been doing.

Well, guess what? I still do this (other than being a middle-aged party mom—rawr!). 

Quite frankly it’s stressful. Maybe it wouldn’t be if my world just revolved around me like it did when I was eighteen, but now it’s not just about me. I have to get up early to take the kids to school so pulling all-nighters totally suck. I have to walk the dog no matter if I have a deadline. I have to wash that pile of laundry that has become a hazardous zone or my family will have nothing clean to wear. I can’t stop everything to finish my book in time.

All or Nothing is draining me like a sexy vampire, while making me feel oh, sooo good.

But what’s the alternative—moderation? Moderation is boring, right? Who wants Sam when you can have Dean? 

Sure, it would be easier if I were to do lots of small productive things every day: my house would be cleaner, my word count would add up in a stress-free way, I would have small, controlled treats every day rather than chocolate pudding and Haagen Daz fests that last a week (and I wouldn’t worry about conference clothes not fitting). Not to mention, I’d get my kids to school before the first bell, instead of scrambling to class just as the second bell goes because I’m tired from working late.

But scheduling my life, like dieting and hard-core exercise plans have ALWAYS failed me in the past. Don’t get me wrong—I’m good at it. REALLY GOOD. I can plan, write lists, and schedule like a boss. That would be the ALL part of this equation. But I’ll only stick to it for so long, and like a boomerang, I’ll bounce back the other way. Which is the NOTHING part of the equation. 

So I’ve been thinking lately that Sam is looking mighty good, and maybe I’ll give him the old college try. But first I’ve got a book to finish—Highland Thief. I’m, ah, behind on it. I might have to pull a couple of all-nighters to get it done in time, which may require copious amounts of chocolate (and some tired mornings with the kids)…thank goodness it’s not conference time.

Sigh… Dean, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Anyone else find themselves caught in an All or Nothing trap? Let’s share some stories and tell me what finally worked for you!

* * *

Alyson McLayne writes historical romance set in the Highlands of Scotland. Highland Betrayal, Book 3 in her series, The Sons Of Gregor MacLeod, is out now!

A Betrothal… A Betrayal… A Love Threatened By Treachery.

To keep her safe, he betrayed his promise.

Laird Callum MacLean vowed to marry Maggie MacDonnell. But when his father's apparent suicide makes him laird of his clan, Callum must unmask his father's killer before bringing Maggie into his dangerous home.

She's a strong Highland Lass. She can save herself.

Maggie's home isn't any safer. When Callum fails to return, Maggie does what any resourceful Highland lass would do. She escapes—and find's herself toe-to-toe with Callum, who's determined to fulfill his promise. Maggie can't bring herself to trust him with her heart again. But with a traitor still at large, they must rely on each other in every way, or their clans—and their love—will be destroyed.

Snag your copy today!


Alyson McLayne is a mom of twins and an award-winning writer of contemporary, historical, and paranormal romance. She’s also a dog lover and cat servant with a serious stash of dark chocolate. After getting her degree in theater at the University of Alberta, she promptly moved to the West Coast of Canada where she worked in film for several years and met her Prop Master husband.

She and her family reside in Vancouver with their sweet but troublesome chocolate lab puppy named Jasper.

Please catch up with Alyson on social media. She loves chatting with her readers! 

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Thanksgiving: A Time for Homecomings

A week from today is Thanksgiving, and I'm so excited because it's one of my favorite holidays. Part of the reason is that I enjoy cooking, another part is that there's no decorating or present pressure, and another part is because I've always believed that Thanksgiving isn't just about being thankful. Thanksgiving is also about homecomings. Grandparents coming home from Florida. Aunts and uncles coming to visit us in New Jersey. Now that I'm a mom, it means my kids come home from college and my mother visits from wherever she's traveling in the world. 

While my current romantic suspense release EVERY DEEP DESIRE has nothing to do with Thanksgiving, it is a homecoming book. It's about an ex-Green Beret who disappeared wife eight years earlier, ended up in Leavenworth, and has come home unexpectedly to protect his wife. I've posted an excerpt below of what I call their HOMECOMING SCENE. It's the first time Juliet has seen her ex-husband Rafe in eight years, and seeing him again is not at all what she expected.


Voices sounded from near the fountain, and Juliet looked up. Bob and the water inspector were arguing again. Sighing, she slipped her phone in her pocket and went toward them…and stopped.

A man over six feet tall had come through the privacy fence and strode toward the fountain. She paused not just because he wore combat boots, low-riding jeans, and a black T-shirt that outlined his ridged stomach, wide shoulders, and tattooed arms. Not just because he reminded her of Michelangelo’s marble male studies exhibit that’d left her with pudding knees. Not just because he carried the aura of carved masculine perfection with ease.

She paused because his gait stole her breath. Elegant, even graceful, he moved with a determined purpose wrapped in fluid weightlessness. She wouldn’t call it eerie so much as powerful. It had to take enormous strength and self-control to move a body as large and muscular as his so…beautifully.
He spoke to Bob, who pointed toward her. The man nodded, shrugged on the leather biker jacket he carried, and turned. Oh God. His long stride ate up the plank walkway while she wiped her palms on her dress and inhaled deeply. In the space of her exhale, he stopped a few feet away. His brown-eyed gaze clasped onto hers with a longing that kept her still. His sheer size and the yearning in his eyes flooded her with the kind of heat that pooled low.

He was larger than she remembered. And the way he studied her, like she was the only thing in this world worth noticing, reminded her of everything they’d been to each other. Everything they’d once had in that forever-and-always kind of way. Which ended up being a total lie.

She had to remember that.

She swallowed. “Hello, Rafe.”

Seriously? The man had abandoned and betrayed her, and that’s all she could say? She couldn’t even keep the tremor out of her voice.

Juliet.” It sounded like a prayer, and her breath hitched in the back of her throat. After eight years, she still remembered how her name resonated on his lips, how the word ended with his soft drawl instead of a sharp consonant.

She blinked while he took her hands and moved in. He brushed a kiss on her cheek, and his familiar musky scent teased her nose. She closed her eyes, and her eyelids burned. It was like the anger and sadness and disappointment that had lived inside her for so long were so deeply buried they couldn’t find their way out. She could only stand there, feel his lips on her face, and remember what used to be. Part of her—the traitorous part that exhaled when the kiss ended—was even relieved that he was still alive. For a few of the eight years he’d been away, she hadn’t been sure.

Could she be more pathetic? Probably not. Because she considered the possibility that if she kept her eyes shut, time wouldn’t only stop, it would swing back to the last hours they’d spent together. The last moment they’d been happy.

What is wrong with me?

She opened her eyes and used her fingers to wipe her cheeks. Her gaze darted around—to her worktable, the fountain over his shoulder, his dusty boots—until landing on the blue ribbon wrapped around his wrist under his jacket’s sleeve. She was over him. So why was this so hard? What was it about him that made her tremble, made her limbs feel heavy? She should be angry and dismissive, yet all she could do was ask, “What are you doing here?”

There were so many other questions loaded into that one: Why did you leave me? Where did you go? What were you doing? Do your tattoos mean what you said they mean?That prickly feeling rushed through her again, and she fisted her hands until her nails cut her palms.

His relentless gaze shone with unapologetic determination. A trait she remembered. “The army released me from prison.”

“For God’s sake, why?” She hadn’t meant to screech—and had, in fact, never screeched before—yet his flinch testified to her pitch and tone. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and shook her head. Embarrassment sent a flush from her neck to her face.

“The army dropped the charges and let me go.” His voice was low and melodic. He even reached out to touch the strand that wouldn’t stay put and hung over her forehead. Except she turned until he lowered his hand. “I know seeing me must be…unsettling.”

Unsettling. Yes. That was a word she could support. She took two deep breaths before meeting the heat in his eyes. “I thought you had a life sentence.”

Or was that a lie too?

He shoved his hands in his front pockets. Despite his jacket, the movement only emphasized the width of his muscled chest. He was so much bigger than when he’d left. “One day I was in solitary confinement, the next I was free.”

She frowned. The whole thing sounded sketchy. “Do you know why? Or who orchestrated it?”


She studied the handsome face she used to cup with her hands and caress at will. Square jaw framed by firm cheekbones and deep-brown eyes. Shorn hair with slashes for eyebrows. Lips that protected white teeth, one with a small chip from the time he fell out of the tree next to her balcony. The same face she’d once loved now had tiny lines around the eyes, a jagged scar on the forehead, and a darkness in its eyes. “So you came home?”

He stayed still under her visual assault, as if daring her to look at all of him.As if daring her to see the man who had supposedly gone AWOL to work as a gunrunning mercenary. As if daring her to ask the question they both knew she wanted to ask but was too afraid to.

“Yes.” He spoke softly, his words edged with steel. “I came home.”

With his obvious physical strength and don’t-screw-with-me-or-I’ll-kill-you attitude, he seemed capable of working for an arms dealer. Heck, he could even bean arms dealer. Yet he kept a polite distance between them and moved slightly so the shadow he cast kept the sun out of her eyes. Then there was his upper body, which shook as if the act of standing still in a garden, talking to her, required a tremendous amount of self-control.

Frustrated with her all-over-the-place emotions, she tucked back that damn stray hair again and walked toward the fountain. He fell into step next to her. “When are you leaving?”

Depends.” The way that word rolled off his tongue, heavy and intense, loaded it with all sorts of meanings.

“On what?”

“On you.”

She stopped near Bob and faced Rafe. “You nuked my life, yet your decision depends on me?”

“Yes.” For the first time, his attention shifted from her to the horse rising out of the fountain four feet away. “Pegasus?” Memories of their childhood were evident in his half smile. “Our winged horse?”

She shrugged. If he wanted to play the deflection game, she would too. Because no matter what he said or did, she wasn’t going to allow him to mess up her life again. She was no longer the wounded bird he’d married. “Classical architecture is still around. Timeless beauty always trumps dead war heroes.”

When he turned to her again, his stare took in her clunky, steel-toed garden clogs and pink linen dress up to her hard hat–mussed hair. “It does indeed.”

She pressed her palms against her skirt. “What do you want.” No question mark. A direct statement requiring a direct answer.

His eyes narrowed. “To see you.”

Why?” Her question sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. “It’s been eight years.”

He ran a hand over his head and glanced away. “Because it’s been eight years, and I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I sent our divorce papers to you in Leavenworth.” She grabbed his leather-clad arm and forced him to look at her. “We’re not married anymore. I’m not your wife.”

“Juliet.” His voice was so broken she almost couldn’t hear the words. “No matter what the world says, and regardless of what you believe, you’ll always be my wife. Your safety always trumps everything.”

Thunder hit hard, much closer this time, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “What does that mean?”

“I’m here to protect you. And I’m not leaving until I do.”


Sharon Wray is a librarian who once studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and now writes about the men in her Deadly Force romantic suspense series where ex-Green Berets meet their match in smart, sexy heroines who teach these alpha males that Gracealways defeats Reckoning.

Her acclaimed debut book EVERY DEEP DESIRE, a sexy, action-packed retelling of Romeo and Juliet, is about an ex-Green Beret determined to regain his honor, his freedom, and his wife.

EVERY DEEP DESIRE is available on: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iBooks | IndieBoundKobo|  Google
And adding it to your Goodreads TBR list is also always appreciated!

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Movin' On...A New Series!

I've been hip deep in edits lately. But it make it easier to work on the same books in a series when you've got book one's edits fresh in your mind!

Here's a look at the first book in my new series, Movin' On, entitled THE WHOLE PACKAGE, which releases January 29, 2019.


BLURB: Always the caretaker, former Marine Reid Griffith wants to help his brother adjust to civilian life…and help other former servicemen. What better way to utilize their brawn, discipline, and charm than a moving company that hires veterans? But although Reid prides himself on being strategic, he certainly doesn’t plan to fall in the spotlight of one brilliant—and beautiful—PR whiz…
PR expert Naomi Starr is determined to bring Vets on the Go! into the spotlight. But when she meets Reid, it might mean breaking her rule to never mix business with pleasure. Especially once she discovers that underneath Reid’s sexy rough-and-tumble exterior is a vulnerable man who just might need what she’s got to give.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Her continuous stare made him a little uncomfortable.
“Something wrong?”
“Hmm. I think we need to brand you as a family company first. You and your brother, together, would really work to sell Vets on the Go!”
“My cousin’s also a partner. We all kind of look alike, so you’d see the family resemblance.”
“Even better.” She made a few notes. “So we highlight you three, then pepper the interview with your brawny, good-looking employees. And bam, you’ve already made an impression on the thousands of single women needing to move.”
“Now we’re targeting women?”
“Yes. And families and veterans themselves. You have an original appeal, and not just because you’re handsome.” She flushed and hurried to add, “And by you, I mean your team and your business.”
“So I’m not handsome then?” he asked to tease her, loving that blush.
Naomi cleared her throat and said dryly, “I think you’re well aware of your looks. My point is we use every weapon in your arsenal. You have fit, appealing employees who’ve served our country. That’s three for three. Now looking at your rates…” She swiveled her computer monitor so he could see it. “Leo, our data guru, sent me a comparison to see who your major competitors are.”
“We went through this before we started the company,” he said.
“Bear with me.” They went over more numbers, enough to make his head spin. In certain demographics, they seemed to hit the mark while missing entirely in others. “So you see, if you raise this rate but drop this fee, you’ll still come out even.”
“That’s if this marketing works.”
She gave him another of those penetrating looks that caused the sparks in his belly to start up and dance. “Oh, it’ll work.”
“Confident in your abilities, huh?”
“You know what, Reid? I am. Now, I’ve got the same issues as most women.” Her charming smile disarmed him. “I often wonder, does this outfit make me look fat? Is my hair the mess I think it is? Will he call like he said he would?” She turned uber-professional between one breath and the next. “But one thing I’m not is deluded about my professional abilities. I won’t promise what we can’t deliver. I know how to help businesses grow and flourish, and yes, I’m damn good at what I do.”
He believed her a hundred percent. “Okay then.” He studied her right back, noticing the plump curve of her lips. The sparkle in her blue eyes. He took his pen and signed the contract, then pushed the folder back to her, irritated that he had to work to maintain control, aware of his racing pulse. 
Reid was man enough to handle being attracted to a beautiful woman. Didn’t mean he had to follow his dick where it led. “But for the record, the outfit is flattering, your hair is beautiful, and if he’s dumb enough not to call back, he doesn’t deserve you.” He stood before he made a bigger fool of himself. “I’ll set up the interview with the news station and let you know.”
“Ah, right. Good.” She cleared her throat. “Once I have that information, we can meet again to prep you for it. That, and I have a few more ideas I’ve been considering.”
“Great.” He just stared down at her.
“Any questions for me?” she asked, sounding way too perky.
“Yes.” He stared some more, until that bright smile dimmed. He let her see his attraction, let her know that yes, he did find her smokin’ hot.
“Your question?” she asked and licked her lips. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for a second before shooting back to his eyes.
Gratified to know she felt the same chemistry, he winked at her and saw her blush again. “My question is this… Where do you get your coffee? Because that cup I had was amazing.”