Friday, April 26, 2013

Sweet Saturday Samples - A Bit of UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON



Something sweet from my latest sweet novel, UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON, the third book in the Moonlight Series. Drew is trying to figure out what beautiful Mindy wants:

He dropped his hands and backed up. How could I have been so wrong about her? 
 “Goodnight, Mindy. It’s been fun. I hope you succeed with your theater and all. Have a good time for the rest of your stay here.” He raised his palm to wave before turning toward the driveway. A tiny pain shot through his heart as he walked away. Before he reached the SUV, Mindy was tugging on his sleeve.
“Don’t leave, Drew. Come upstairs. Let’s talk.”
“Just talk?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. What does she want from me?
“I thought you weren’t a mover.”
“I’m not. But are you?” Does she want sex?
“I don’t have to be. You said it yourself. Looking the way I do—and I don’t want to look like I’m bragging, but I’m pretty good to look at—usually means I call the shots. Most men go as far as they can until the woman says ‘no.’ So, I’ve never had to make the first move with a man.”
The curve of her calf caught his attention. Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m only human.  

“So what do you want from me? Do you want me to make a pass at you? It'd be very easy... Or do you just want to talk? I can’t read you at all. One minute you’re cozying up to me, the next you move away.”
“I like you. You’re sweet. Can’t we just…talk?” Her eyes were pleading, and he couldn’t resist.
“Of course.” Nice to know my radar still works.
She slipped her small hand into his then led him back to the staircase. “These stairs are steep as hell.”
“You’re in good shape. You can do it.” He took a peek at her legs.
“You noticed.” She glanced at him.
“I may not be a player, but I’m not dead either.”


A Bit About the Book

Can attending a wedding and a funeral on the same day change your life? Mindy Winslow’s life was altered forever when she met gorgeous lawyer, Drew Armstrong, and found out about her inheritance from her mentor, Lou. Embraced by the townsfolk at the wedding of her college roommate, Mindy sought to make her goal a reality in tiny Pine Grove, New York. But the exposure of a promise made then broken secretly, destroyed her dream. Will she be forced to face “I told you so” from her father or will love find a way to resurrect hope from the ashes? 
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Wednesday, April 17, 2013

SNEAK PEEK AT SOME TRULY GREAT WRITING

Writers talk about the quality of writing. Sometimes that's hard to measure. Until I started reading Jeff Conine's book, LAST AUTUMN. All I can say is WOW! This is literary fiction, a different genre, still us romance writers can learn a thing or two from Jeff's amazing command and use of language. 

With his permission, I'm posting the opening of one of his books to inspire the rest of us. 

(Book cover from Amazon)



LAST AUTUMN
by Jeff Conine


      Jake jerked up from his deep, dreamless stupor with an urgent sadism.  Wide-­eyed, his sweat-matted head eased a slow retreat onto the pillow. He hoped the morning’s chill would soon clear the haze.  Minutes later the fog lifted: she was coming today.
This registered, he leapt from bed and scrambled for his alarm clock.  In his adrenaline-etched haste, he slipped, crack­ing his knee against the bedside table--an old crate bumpy with candle wax, overlaid with a cigarette-scarred cloth--sending a near-empty jug of wine ass over tit into some beer empties.  As the Dago Red fluid anointed the aluminum, he stared, his mind encumbered in vague memory of the night before--and all those before, leading a domino-lined blackness backwards, out of memory to some half-lit past where it must have been differ­ent.
He found the clock peering up at him from a heap of poetry chapbooks scattered on his steamer trunk next to his desk.  Ner­vously he checked the time.  Ten-thirty.  Christ, he cursed as he surveyed his cabin, crib's a mess--no way to clean this bastard up in time.
He sighed.  No surprise: the cabin hadn't had many thor­ough cleanings in the many moons he had come to call it home. In its present state, though never a garden club showplace, it looked worse than usual. He nodded knowingly at this recent development as he looked back at the clock.
The smell of musty cigarette smoke emanated from the walls and curtains and found visible source in brownish yellow tinted splotches on the ceiling and windows, eye-sored with lung poison. An even worse odor of stale alcohol--puke-provoking blends of wine, beer and whiskey--issued from throw rugs and favored parts of the hardwood floor.  Jake had the post-facto, guilt-inducing habit of drunkenly knocking over near-empties tactically placed upright across his knotty pine nursery--decoy ducks surrounding his kiddie pool blind. (Naturally, the brace of swallows inside did not merit the usual preternatural reflexes he mustered when preserving larger doses of his sacrament.) He would never wash out these royal spots--to do so would be treasonous to his mur­derous lifestyle.  Besides it took all the fun out of awakening to his latest floor mural.  

Jake had stumbled the night before.  The corners of his Persian rug nearest his mattress betrayed signs of a scuffle. The winner, he couldn't say, but his smile as he dabbed at a scab at his temple betrayed the loser.  Although he had lost, he had not gone down easily or willingly: he had fought the noble fight.  Looking closer he discovered drops of dried blood in the dust next to the clear area where his rug had been.
He continued to survey the room for other damage, his eyes alighting on his paint-spotted desk perpendicular from the wall. Untouched long since...how many weeks, he mused?  He noticed the yellowish taint of the mass of wadded-up pages laying siege to the dusty typewriter.  His cavity-ridden bookshelves grim­aced over opened books overlapping and terracing outward, wave­like, also stained yellowish with tobacco and neglect.  Seeing the prevalent jaundice, Jake grieved at his seeming loss of respect--of them--and he supposed of himself.  Even his precious books, he shook his head.
Jake's clearing sense of smell shifted his eyes to the little kitchen recess off the far corner of the cabin--easily the worst section of his digs--sink and counters piled high with dishes--unrinsed, unwashed for days.  Pots encrusted with canned food crowned these heaps while paper sacks full of aluminum and tins mobbed the floor, adding superfluous testimony that Jake, a good cook, had been too lazy of late.
“Dinty Moore says,'This place recommended by Drunken Hines,'” John smiled without humor.
It all seemed so silent and unashamed and blatant.
He turned his gaze back to his books.  He got to his knees and crawled over on all fours to them.  He began to stuff his books back to their rightful places in the bookshelves.  Done, he tenderly aligned the rows, his fingers lingering here and there, his thoughts drifting.  Then, shaking himself to his feet, he decided it was too late to clean the kitchen, or much of anything.  As for himself, at least he had managed a bath the night before--before deciding to have a drink.  No need to dress since the 'drink' had put him to sleep in his clothes, also clean enough despite his late-night wrestling match with his unknown assailant.  He smoothed and straightened his uniform: dull, patched jeans; striped tee-shirt; loose flannel shirt.
“Move over Dinty and Mr. Hines and make room for the third stooge...the far side of thirty and I still can't tie a tie."

Check the book out on AMAZON
Brilliant writing, Jeff. Thank you so much for sharing with us.

Friday, April 12, 2013

UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON - Sweet Saturday Samples

Welcome, thanks for stopping by. My Sweet Saturday Sample is from my latest sweet romance, UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON. 
“Hope. Some hope. The place is a mess…it’s falling down.”
“Maybe with that money you can refurbish…”
“It’s a disaster area. Everything needs to be replaced. And I haven’t even looked at the other buildings. I doubt they are in better shape. Shifty’s right. This property isn’t worth crap. Hope? The only hope is to sell it and move on.”
“Lou tried to sell it. The property has been on the market for the past seven years.” Drew bowed his head before raising his gaze to hers.
“Anyone interested?”
He shifted his gaze away. “Not even a nibble.”
Mindy hid her face behind his handkerchief. “I’m so stupid. I thought this was my big break, but it’s nothing but a junkyard.”
Drew stepped closer to her and folded her in his arms. She cried softly against his chest while he stroked her hair.
“Don’t give up yet. Let’s look at the other buildings. There must be something you can do. A theater up here would be fantastic.”
She dried her eyes and stepped back, raising her gaze to his. “Why are you saying that? Stringing me along? This is a disaster. There’s almost nothing that can be reclaimed here, the whole damn thing should be torn down and sold for firewood.” The heat of anger brought color to her cheeks.
“That’s nice. Give up. Why not?” He let go of her hand. “You say you have a dream and just because everything isn’t perfect, you put your tail between your legs and slink away. I thought you were a woman with gumption. Hah! Princess is more like it…spoiled princess. Lou gave you this chance and what are you doing? Giving up and walking away. Do that by yourself. I hate quitters.” He snatched his handkerchief back and turned away from her.
She grabbed his elbow and pulled. “That’s it! That’s exactly what I wanted you to say. Like a great scene from a Jimmy Stewart movie. I hate quitters, too.” 
Click HERE for more Sweet Saturday Samples.
Click HERE for buys links to all retailers on my website.
A bit about the book
Can attending a wedding and a funeral on the same day change your life? Mindy Winslow’s life was altered forever when she met gorgeous lawyer, Drew Armstrong, and found out about her inheritance from her mentor, Lou. Embraced by the townsfolk at the wedding of her college roommate, Mindy sought to make her goal a reality in tiny Pine Grove, New York. But the exposure of a promise made then broken secretly, destroyed her dream. Will she be forced to face “I told you so” from her father or will love find a way to resurrect hope from the ashes? 
Click here for short excerpts from the first 2 books in my new Hollywood Hearts series.