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Sunday, March 26, 2017

Snippet Sunday and Weekend Writing Warriors

Welcome to Snippet Sunday and Weekend Writing Warriors, your chance to sample the work of a talented group of authors. When you finish here you can find more snippets at

We know so far that Rocky ticked off drug dealers and had to fake his death so he can enter the witness protection program. Rocky called Aimee even though he wasn't supposed to and told her he'd bought a house for them. Aimee has car trouble and is worried about how she'll get to Rocky's home. She's nervous about being stranded on a deserted road too. A man who knows her name comes riding down the road on a horse and speaks to her. It's Cade McCoy, the man who helped Rocky fake his death so he can enter the witness protection program.  I've skipped some paragraphs where Cade and Aimee talk about how there's only one realtor in town, and she was the one who sold Rocky's house to him. Cell phones don't work in that place so today Cade is offering Aimee a lift on his horse. She's really scared of horses though. Last week the horse farted when she got on, and this is Cade's reaction.

Cade laughed as if it was the most hysterical thing he’d ever heard. He turned around to say something, took a look at her face, and wisely decided to say nothing. She’d had to put her arms around him, and she still felt him shaking with laughter. Barbarian.

Once Cade got his maniacal laughter under control Aimee enjoyed the ride. The spring sun shone brightly, which made the wildflowers all but sit up and sing. Birds chirped, and not one car tore down the road to mar her pleasure. Her spirits rose. She had worried for weeks about moving to a little backwoods town after growing up in Baltimore and living in LA, but she could get used to this lifestyle with no trouble at all. Who would ever have guessed she’d like communing with nature so much?  

Or will she? This is a romantic comedy after all.

Aimee Sherwood never dreamed that following her fiancĂ© into the witness protection pro-gram would land her in a haunted house in a town that’s downright creepy. She’d have laughed if she had been told the guy who lives down the road might be her soul mate, not the man whose ring she’s wearing. Life in West Virginia is nothing like life in Los Angeles, but between bean ball battles with Marilyn Monroe, remodeling a crumbling farmhouse, and starting a new online business, life in the country is anything but boring.

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Saturday, March 25, 2017

Saturday Sample: Fortuna

Welcome to Saturday Sample. We've learned that Rocky bought some property in West Virginia. Aimee agrees to come to West Virginia even though the witness protection people told her not to have contact with him for months. Aimee's car broke down, and to her surprise Cade McCoy comes down the road riding a big horse. He by chance moved into the same neighborhood as Rocky and agrees to take her to Rocky's house.  

Last Week

She saw a huge, red truck with an extended cab parked under an oak tree near the door. A restored yellow bug circa 1965 sat beside it. “That’s June’s car,” Cade said. “The yellow one.”

“No surprise there,” Aimee said with a scowl. “Nobody but Rocky would want that huge red truck. Bet good ole Dave would have a fit if he saw it. He told Rocky to blend in, not stand out.” She sighed. “If I’d been here I wouldn’t have let him buy it.”

Cade swung off the horse and tied its reins to the door of an old, rusting truck that looked as if it rolled off the assembly line sometime during the 1940s. “I’ll help you get inside,” he said as he held out his arms to pull her off the horse.

Aimee kicked the old truck’s tires. “Stop laughing at me, Cade.”

“Me? I’m not laughing.”

Uh huh.

This Week

rocks, and briars, and climbed the rickety steps. Aimee blinked as Cade pounded on the front door. Did the door just sway or did she? She screamed when it fell backward into the house. The tremendous clatter made by the fall echoed through the empty rooms and brought Rocky and a woman running.

“Hon!” he exclaimed. He grabbed Aimee’s hand and jerked her toward him. She flew through the air as if she had sprouted a pair of wings.
The woman behind him squeakedthat was the only word for itand distracted Rocky. Aimee slammed into him, and the two of them crashed to the floor.

Aimee Sherwood never dreamed that following her fiancĂ© into the witness protection pro-gram would land her in a haunted house in a town that’s downright creepy. She’d have laughed if she had been told the guy who lives down the road might be her soul mate, not the man whose ring she’s wearing. Life in West Virginia is nothing like life in Los Angeles, but between bean ball battles with Marilyn Monroe, remodeling a crumbling farmhouse, and starting a new online business, life in the country is anything but boring.

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Friday, March 24, 2017

Fashionista Friday


Multi color dress

Multi color dress

Pom pom sandals

Brown crossbody

Topshop gel nail color
$10 -

Confessions of a Carpool Captive

Title: Confessions of a Carpool Captive
Author: Dawn L. Chiletz
Genre: Romantic Comedy 
Release Date: March 24, 2017
My name is Liz Foley. I love my accounting job because I’d rather deal with numbers than talk to people. 
My best traits:
I have (RBF) Resting Bitch Face.
I give snarky come-backs.
I have no friends.
My worst traits:
I speak in run-on sentences when I get nervous.
I’m attracted to assholes.
I’m broke.
Enter Finnigan Walsh – the new guy at work. 
His best traits:
He’s kind of hot, I suppose.
He has a working car.
He sings to me and brings me coffee. 
Nothing ever gets to him, even when I add more people to our carpool.
His worst traits:
See above
I don’t like him. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. 
After all, it’s not about how fast you get there. It’s the journey. Right?
Damn this carpool.
You’d better buckle up.

Dawn L. Chiletz is the author of The Contest, Waiting to Lose, Enough, Can't You See, and The Fabulist. She currently resides in Illinois with her husband, two boys, and three dogs. In the summer of 2014, armed with a dream from the night before, she sat at her kitchen table while her boys played on their computers and began the first words of “The Contest.” She’s been writing and drinking large amounts of coffee ever since.

Thursday, March 23, 2017


Title: Hitched
Series: Hearts of Stone #2
(can be read as standalone)
Author: Christine Manzari
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: March 21, 2017
For aspiring journalist Harlow Ransom, life is just a well-oiled machine, and if she plans well, all things will go accordingly. And that is exactly why Harlow lives her life by perfectly polished to-do lists that she refuses to stray from—even when she's celebrating her 21st birthday in Sin City.
1. Visit the Boom Boom Blues Lounge
2. See the water show at the Bellagio
Things can't possibly go askew if she crosses things off her list one by one. But after a night of celebrating leads to waking up in bed with a sexy stranger and a ring on her finger, Harlow realizes that in no point in time did she ever have "Get Married" on her trusty to-do list. Yet that's exactly what she did. 
Professional snowboarder Trace Stone loves a good challenge—he's all about the win. And this time, he's going to find a way to win over the feisty, meticulous Harlow. The wedding may have been spontaneous and impulsive, but when he said "forever," he meant it. Now, the only thing he wants on Harlow's to-do list is him—from this day forward.

“This book has everything I need in a romance novel. Steamy hot scenes (hello!) and humor (Couch Cat! Buzz!) are some of what Manzari does best, but what always strikes me are the depth of her characters.” - Author Laura Ward
“I loved this book! The hero is amazing! He's charming, witty, sexy and made me laugh!” - blog
“This book was an epic love story that starts out with both the reader and the characters having absolutely no clue that their lives are about to be flipped around and turned inside out.” - Nerd Girl Official

Dancing. Alcohol. Heat. Lips. Laughter. Flirtatious touches. 
Harlow naked in my bed.
I had no idea what time it was, but it was late. She said just one drink. She said there would be no bed in our future. She said she was immune to my charm. 
All lies. 
I’d lost count of how many times we’d fucked. All I knew was each time we reached the end, our lips and fingers greedily held on until it started all over again. I knew every inch of her. I’d had my mouth on each spot at least once. I wouldn’t be happy until I’d conquered every fucking inch of her.
I was sore and tired and spent, but in the best goddamn way.
The bed was still in one piece, and that was more surprising than the fact that Harlow was in it. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind if we fucked it into a pile of rubble if it meant that morning never came. I had a feeling when the sun rose, it would all end. She would fade away just like the dancing water at the fountain where I first saw her.
I growled at the thought and worked my fingers into her long curls, for some way to hold on.
Her body was slick underneath me as I pushed up onto my knees, sliding in and out of her. Her limbs were wrapped around mine, holding me close. I could smell the sweet scent of alcohol and sex as I dipped my head to taste her neck. I devoured the tender skin along her throat, my teeth and tongue making her breath catch. Her slim body bucked up against me, and my fingers dug in, trying to tame the wild roll of her hips before she pushed me over the edge too soon. I kissed across her jaw until my mouth found hers and when she kissed me back, it became punishing. She teased her lips against mine, accepting the wild plunge of my tongue, and then pulled away until I was begging for more. 
“Faster,” she demanded against my mouth. She dug her fingers into my skin and pulled me flush against her, pushing up into me recklessly. Soon my body was grinding and pounding against hers. Hard into soft. Over and over again. She was under me, but she was riding me, urging me with every tilt of her hips, daring me to go harder. Deeper. 
And I was so lost in the sensation. My touch was frantic trying to sear everything about her into my memory.
When I thrust into her, my knees dug into the mattress and the headboard knocked against the wall. She moaned into my mouth with every rock of our bodies and it just made me want to do it again. To hear her beg my name. To feel her grab onto me. To feel her come around me.
I pulled my lips away from hers so I could look down at her. Thick lashes lifted and all I could see was green—the deep emerald of shiny bottle glass, gazing back at me. Burning for me. Her hair was spread in copper tangles across the mattress, the pillows and blankets shoved to the floor hours ago by her wild hands. Her pale skin was flushed pink and shiny with sweat. The fingers of one hand were still fisted in the sheet beneath her, yanking so hard she was pulling it free from the corner of the bed. The other hand was pressed against my ass, both of her legs wrapped around mine to keep me close.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “It’s so good.”’
“I told you I’d make it good for you.”

The thump of the headboard spurred me on.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she panted. “You’re a stranger. I’m never reckless. I’m always in control. I never break rules.”
“Rules are no fun unless they’re broken.”

Thrust. Thrust.
Her eyes closed. She made a sexy sound in the back of her throat as she ripped the sheet free from the edge of the bed. I ran my hand up her side, cupping her breast before leaning down to take her nipple in my mouth.
“Maybe I should marry you,” she moaned across the top of my head as her hand clutched my hair, holding me to her chest. “Then we could do this every night.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled around the smooth skin of her breast.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
I let go of her hair and reached between us, stroking her. Making her body tremble. She clenched her teeth as if to hold her moans inside, like she could keep the pleasure all to herself. 

Fuck that. Those moans belonged to me. 
My fingers explored, sliding along the sweet spot where I sunk deep inside her. On the next stroke in, my finger followed, stretching her, filling her more.
Her eyes flew wide open. The wordless shape of her mouth and stuttered gasps were all I needed. She held my gaze as she arched up into me, chasing her release, racing me to the end. Again.
They say you can’t become an addict after just one hit.

They lie. 
One night. One girl. And I could feel it deep in my bones. I was addicted.
The first thing Christine does when she's getting ready to read a book is to crack the spine in at least five places. She wholeheartedly believes there is no place as comfy as the pages of a well-worn book. She's addicted to buying books, reading books, and writing books. She even turned her dining room into a library—reading is more important than eating. She also has a weakness for adventure and inappropriate humor. Christine is from Forest Hill, Maryland where she lives with her husband, three kids, and her library of ugly spine books.