While your writing it, it's like being pregnant. Sure you think you can handle it, but the reality of it hasn't hit you. There is unlimited potential and as long as you feed it well it grows into a healthy baby.

In the first trimester, no really even knows what’s going on unless you tell them. Your husband finds out you’re not as interested in him and you’re up at all hours possibly throwing up. This goes for both sides of the metaphor.

As your stomach grows people take notice. They may want to feel your belly (read what you’ve written). You share ultrasound pictures which ninety percent of the public can’t even tell what it is, but they all say it’s adorable. In other words your family and friends read your book.

Now comes the uncomfortable third trimester when you waddle and have to pee every five minutes. Otherwise known in the writing world as submitting to publishers/agents. Now for some this lasts forever, others get picked up right away. Whichever it was for you, we all had the pain that comes along with that. False labor, returned, but rejected submissions. Back pain, from secretly cyber stalking the people you submitted to. And the worst of all, those people that ask if you’re having twins because you’re sooooooo huge. Otherwise know as the people saying “you’re not published yet?” Right because it’s that easy and people do it in a few months.

Finally you go into labor, aka get a contract. Suddenly you’re sent into a spin as you fill out forms for a cover you may or may not actually have a say in. Some publishers give you drugs so you don’t have to feel the pain of labor or editing. Let me warn you now, run from those publishers. Sure it feels good to only have surface pain, but you need that pain so you appreciate all your work.

We’ve now entered the hard labor part of your book coming out. This part seems to go fast at moments and drag at others. You’re head may be a little bit fuzzy and although there may be documented proof this all occurred you will forget ninty percent of it. There’s a reason for this, it’s so you’ll have more kids.

You’ll have to push, you may bite at your editor because it’s all his/her fault that you’re going through this. When you’re almost done you’re ready to give up, you’re so damn tired of seeing the same lines over and over. You can’t stand the story you loved for months. You don’t care and you just want to go to sleep and pretend it never happened. Then your editor does what they always do… snap at you to put your big girl panties on and finish this because your deadline is also theirs. So you push through, all night long crunching on ice chips (or a pan of brownies… no judgment) to get it out by the last possible moment.

With a scream a goo covered baby is delivered. Sure a copy editor takes your baby to a bath and now it smells wonderful and before you know it’s on display on social media like Simba being held up before all the animals.

You’re fearful. You’re not sure if they will accept your book as a good thing or not. Sure you have Scar grumbling because he’s not as loved in the background, but whether your book some day leads the pride and becomes a best seller. Or if it sits with virtual dust covered on an ebook shelf you’re proud of it. It’s your baby and even though it was surreal at moments once you cradle it in your arms, you’ll realize you love it more than you ever thought you could. A few words that resemble you will take off on their own and before you know it you’ll be wanting another one. Small and needing you to feed it so it grows big and strong.

On a side note, my son turns 14 next week, so in honor of one of my babies that I’m so proud of, even when I get a one star review, I’d like to dedicate this blog to him. Happy Birthday Jacob, even when you go off on your own I’m glad you’ll still have that little bit that resembles me so you’ll always know where you came from.

What's better than a Valentine? 11 Valentines. Check out all the Valentines available from The Red Hot Valentine Stories.

Here's a little excerpt... Is the best love the one you didn't expect?

“Excuse me.” A beautiful woman’s velvet voice cut off Marcus’ story like an errant teenager merging in traffic. “Are you Marcus?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You look just like the picture Kurt sent me. I’m Jenna. Jenna McMillian.”

Jenna Turner’s heart dropped to her gut as Marcus looked at her, then back to the other Jenna, and back again.

“What’s your last name?”

“Turner. Kurt Turner’s my brother.”

“Who’s Kurt Turner?” Jenna McMillian asked as her perfectly manicured finger tucked her luxurious dark hair behind her ear.

“Wow, this is awkward,” Marcus said as he stood up and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“It doesn’t need to be. It was nice meeting you, Marcus, but I have to get to work.”

Jenna gathered her belongings and practically ran across the street to the safety of her desk. Of course her brother couldn’t give her a tall, dark, and handsome man with a sense of humor and a smile that made the frozen part of her melt.

Rushing into her office she flung her sketchpad in the corner and plopped into her rolling office chair.

“Something up?” her assistant, Brenda, asked while dropping off a tube with a blueprint inside.

“Have you ever just met a guy and knew instantly you never wanted him to…”

“Dress again?”

“I’m not talking about stripping some guy down for a night of carnal pleasure.”

Oh, who was she kidding! All Jenna could think about was handcuffing herself to Marcus until both of them were on the brink of dehydration from a night of hot passionate love. Of course Jenna had never experienced that so it would be a first, but then again, a man like Marcus probably knew how to satisfy a woman in less then five minutes. Damn her luck. Just when she thought it was safe to eat her lunch in the park, Prince Charming had to stroll up and give her hope. Ugh, why couldn’t she have just gotten mugged? That would have been less emotionally draining.

Speaking of Marcus… Jenna turned toward her art desk and looked out her fifth story window. Yep the perfect view of the park and river was now ruined as she saw Marcus still talking to Evil Jenna.

Why had she rushed off like someone had screamed fire? Sure Evil Jenna had fuck-me pumps, a barely there skirt, and boobs with enough form and function they had to be man-made… Yeah that’s why Jenna ran; no reason sticking around just to make EJ look better.

“So, if it’s not to hold a man captive in your bedroom for the better part of a dozen orgasms, what did you want with him?”

“It’s a new fad called talking. I really enjoyed his company.”

“Him!” Brenda shrieked and ran to the window. “Him who? Who’d you meet?”

“No one.” Jenna turned around and opened the tube to lay out the blueprints. “A blind date that was for someone else.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story. When does Ferguson need these?”

“Three days ago,” Brenda smirked. “He’s on a rampage again.”

“Guess I get to have an all-nighter.”

“And not the fun kind.”

“Out.” Jenna pointed to the door as she prayed for some magical mystical power that would let all the hormones shoot from her index finger like a bolt of lightning. Sadly, her action only vanquished Brenda from her presence. Jenna moved her head from side to side and stretched. Taking a deep cleansing breath she looked down at floors one through six and was glad for the sprawling design to keep her mind where it needed to be.

Although she’d been on the project for over six months and triple checked the numbers herself, others had been adding their own nuances that could cause a catastrophic failure.

“Seriously Bennett, I put that wall in for a reason,” Jenna growled at the page. It had only been a half hour, but her focus had been singular to avoid looking up and into the park.

“Is Bennett your other personality?” A deep voice asked from behind her.

Jenna spun to see Marcus leaning against her doorjamb. Her heart skipped and wouldn’t you know, she got dizzy at the sight of him.

“No, if he was, I would have killed him off years ago,” she coyly replied while resting her ass on the table.

“There you are with the murder talk again.”

“It’s all a red herring. I’m really a master jewel thief.”

“I see now why I did so good on my detective’s exam. People just see me and spill their guts.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Marcus began as he pushed off the doorjamb and crossed the office to Jenna’s side. “I thought about statistics.”

“Statistics? Not my favorite math class, but I still did well.”

“What do you think the chances are that two guys named Kurt are related to two women named Jenna?”

 “Any relation or both siblings?”

“Any? The other one was Kurt’s cousin.”

“Mmm… well, it seems pretty statistically low.”

“That’s what I thought,” Marcus stepped even closer to Jenna, then tucked a stray hair behind her ear as a way to cradle her head in his hands.

“What else were you thinking?” Jenna whispered as blood filled her lips and a spicy smell had her breathing Marcus in.

“Meeting two Jennas in a park. What are the chances that one didn’t do a damn thing to me where another has been all I can think about.”

“Twenty-five percent.”

“Jenna, I’d really love to take you to dinner.” Marcus had leaned in so his lips tickled hers when he spoke. His confidence to step into her personal space made the proximity of his presence more than she could handle. The spinning in her head was the least of her problems as she felt a dampness between her weakening legs

“Just dinner?” she breathed, then put more space between them.

“I didn’t get to take you to a proper lunch.”

“I’m going to be stuck here late tonight.”

“There’s a Thai restaurant around here isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Can you work and eat at the same time?”

“Why not tomorrow night?”

“Statistically speaking, I fear you’ll forget me.”

“You leave quite an impression.”

“Do I now?”

“Yes.”

“I have to work tomorrow. My last girlfriend complained about my schedule getting in the way.”

“There’s your problem.”

“What’s that?”

“She was a girlfriend,” Jenna said. “A woman would have known you were worth the wait.”

The sly smile that ran across Marcus’ lips had Jenna’s nipples peaking and the usually soft fabric of her bra now burned against delicate skin. She could see why his ex wanted him around every second of everyday. Then again if she ever wanted to make partner in this firm she couldn’t let a hot guy distract her on a daily basis.

“Sunday night it is. Can I get your info or will you be here at seven?”

“A.M. or P.M.?” Jenna sighed.

“Work-a-holic?”

“You have your dreams, I have mine.”

“I like a girl that looks beyond the moment.”

“I’m an architect. I can see for centuries.”

“I want to know more about that on Sunday night.”

Brenda knocked on the glass wall beside her door with an apologetic face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Brenda inched past Marcus and placed another tube on Jenna’s desk. “Ferguson needs you to go over the casino and have a report for him by four-thirty.”

“Just tell me Bennett didn’t touch it,” she said with a sigh as her fingers rocked the three-foot-long tube back and forth on her desk.

“No, only partner candidates.” Brenda turned, scanned Marcus, then left. Thankfully Marcus had his back to Brenda when she bit her hand and made a very inappropriate gesture toward his ass.

Jenna smiled, then wrote her cell number on the back of her business card.

“Partner huh?” he said as he rocked back on his heels a little. Shit, shit, shit, Jenna thought.

“Well, there are some one-liners that only work in the boardroom.” She handed Marcus her card. “You don’t have to wait until Sunday to use that.”

“A man wouldn’t,” Marcus replied as he flicked the card with his finger and began walking backwards out of Jenna’s office.

Jenna collapsed into her chair and let it roll back until it hit her art desk, knocking her back into reality. Casino review in about two hours. The only good news was it would be a quick Q and A and not a full-fledged double spaced report.

“Oh, so you know,” Marcus popped his head back in her door and Jenna’s head shot up. “When you leaned down to write on your desk there…”

“What?” Jenna sucked in her breath, imagining the rest of Marcus coming in to finish what he started. Already his phantom hands were encircling her hips and— .

“You made me look forward to Sunday,” he said with a smirk and winked at her chest as he exited.

“How did you meet Mr. Drop My Panties?” Brenda asked as she practically fell into Jenna’s office.

Jenna had to pause a moment to compose herself. “You wouldn’t believe me.”



Don't forget to stop by all the websites in the Hop

 

The Chrysalis series is now  complete and in ebooks and paperback. Check out the full series.  Here's a little taste of Unto Us the final book in the series.

I've decided to spend the next 30 days sharing a few titles of mine and my friend's with you so you can get ready for the holidays and fill up those ereaders and bookshelves.  I'm starting with my latest release from Secret Cravings Publishing, Silly Girl.  Don't forget to stop by every day for a new title.

Blurb

Are professional sports just children’s games played by oversized kids?

With an all-consuming focus Matthias Jessup has sacrificed his body in pursuit of greatness. But while he’s enjoyed the spoils of being an elite athlete, the physical punishment can only be held at bay for so long. He knows his time is running out and he will have to face his future soon.

Sylvia Kinder is obsessed with Matthias' public image. But now that her fantasy has walked into her life, could it possibly lead to a happy ending? She worries if there's any place for her in his world, much less his heart.

Drawn to each other on a chance meeting, Matthias must look off the court and discover the real world, while Sylvia will have to find the strength of self to not become lost in a world she doesn’t understand.  But those who aren’t ready for a life after the game surround Matthias and are willing to do anything to keep him on the court.

Excerpt

“Why do you want me to eat the cheesecake?” he growled.

“Because it’s smooth, creamy, sweet on the tongue…”

“I’m liking this.”

“And you need to do something for you.”

“You could do something for me that I would like better than cheesecake.” His finger traced the edge of her cheek to her chin where it slid down her neck coming to rest at the notch on her sternum. “It appears to be smooth and creamy. Bet you a thousand dollars it’d taste sweet on my tongue.”

His voice was perfect. His touch divine. The only reason she let him hold on to her was because Sylvia knew she was about to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Are you warm?” He asked leaning his head so his lips fell next to her ear. “Your face seems a little flush.”

Warm. Hot. Near explosion. She could feel every ounce of her resolve falling away like leaves in autumn. Each whisper that passed by her gently lofted another layer to the ground. Out of sheer necessity she wrapped her free arm around his waist in hopes that she’d be able to hold on.

Buy Links

Secret Cravings Publishing

Amazon 

Barnes and Noble

Allromanceebooks

Bookstrand

            One of the most popular copies of TV Guide was always the “Best Shows You Aren’t Watching”.  Critics have the privilege, or misfortune, of watching all the shows.  They see the good and the bad. Whether a show is tops in the ratings or barely registering they watch it.  Unlike when your best friend tells you they love a show, the critics get to tell millions.

            Now here’s my conundrum, my book The Guardian’s Heart has gotten great reviews.  Some end up just on blogs while others are added to Amazon and Goodreads.  The Guardian’s Heart even earned a Best Book review from LASR. Think it’s easy to earn it?  Think again, only six books earned the honor in January even thought close to fifty books are reviewed each month.  Although the critics love the book I’m not seeing the readership I’d like.  I feel like Cheers.  Is The Guardian’s Heart the “Best Book You’re Not reading?”  Or since all my books that have reviews have had positive ones am I the “Best Author You’re Not Reading.”

            Unlike a TV Guide showing up in a mailbox and sitting around for three or four weeks on someone’s end table a blog lasts forever. Then again unlike a magazine after one day you have to search for reviews on a blog.  Author’s can link the reviews, but again it’s not like it’s sitting there for you to discover unless you know the author.  Then the author wouldn’t be someone you’re not reading.

            As an author you’re not reading how can I reach you? There are plenty of author’s out there you may not be reading.  I’ve decided to create a list.  In fact, I’m going to start with of course my own self-praise because if I don’t believe in myself who will.  Unlike most lists feel free to add authors you’ve enjoyed too, just avoid NYT Best Sellers or ones that have over 75 reviews on one book, they’re being read. If you haven’t been mentioned don’t take it as a slight, I had to stop the list somewhere.

The 10 Best Authors You’re Not Reading-feel free to click on a name and find their books.

Michel Prince-“This is a story I can see myself reading over and over again when I find myself needed to be inspired.”-LASR book reviews

Tricia Drammeh-“I highly recommend this book and am so fortunate to have discovered another wonderful writer! I can't wait to read more of Drammeh's work!” –Amazon Review

W. Lynn Chantale-“This book has everything romance, action, mystery and suspense.”-Amazon Review

D. X. Luc-“Wonderful! I'm quick to put a book down if it doesn't catch my attention right away. That is not a problem with this book. It's draws you in immediately.”-Amazon Review

Kassanna-“The story line was great and captivating. I would recommend this story.”-Amazon Review

J. L. Oiler-“Suspenseful, erotic, intriguing story of myth. If you enjoy vampires, demons, or any other mythical creatures you should read this book. It's fast paced & will keep you reading til the very end.”-Amazon Review

Lindsay Downs-“All three of these novellas packed great suspense, and eroticism. I highly recommend this wonderful reading experience.”-Amazon Review

Laura Breck-Award Winner! Dancing in a Hurricane won RomCon's 2013 Readers' Crown Award for Best Contemporary Romance. –“I loved this book! Go out and get it! You will not be disappointed.”-Amazon Review

Jacoba Dorothy-“No curse here just a good read that builds momentum and ends with you wanting more, and thankfully I understand there is a sequel. The author reminds me of j k Rowling in that you can tell there is a real love for her characters, they are not just there to tell a story they are the story.”-Amazon Review

Mary Wehr-“If you want to read an amazing love story with a hero and heroine who are relatable and anything but typical, run to get this.”-Amazon Review

Thanks for stopping by on this hop.  A few days ago Secret Cravings released my IR Contemporary Romance Silly Girl.  I thought I'd give you a little taste.


“Why do you want me to eat the cheesecake?” he growled.

“Because it’s smooth, creamy, sweet on the tongue…”

“I’m liking this.”

“And you need to do something for you.”

“You could do something for me that I would like better than cheesecake.” His finger traced the edge of her cheek to her chin where it slid down her neck coming to rest at the notch on her sternum. “It appears to be smooth and creamy. Bet you a thousand dollars it’d taste sweet on my tongue.”

His voice was perfect. His touch divine. The only reason she let him hold on to her was because Sylvia knew she was about to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Are you warm?” He asked leaning his head so his lips fell next to her ear. “Your face seems a little flush.”

Warm. Hot. Near explosion. She could feel every ounce of her resolve falling away like leaves in autumn. Each whisper that passed by her gently lofted another layer to the ground. Out of sheer necessity she wrapped her free arm around his waist in hopes that she’d be able to hold on.

Are professional sports just children’s games played by oversized kids?

With an all-consuming focus Matthias Jessup has sacrificed his body in pursuit of greatness. But while he’s enjoyed the spoils of being an elite athlete, the physical punishment can only be held at bay for so long. He knows his time is running out and he will have to face his future soon.

Sylvia Kinder is obsessed with Matthias' public image. But now that her fantasy has walked into her life, could it possibly lead to a happy ending? She worries if there's any place for her in his world, much less his heart.

Drawn to each other on a chance meeting, Matthias must look off the court and discover the real world, while Sylvia will have to find the strength of self to not become lost in a world she doesn’t understand.  But those who aren’t ready for a life after the game surround Matthias and are willing to do anything to keep him on the court.




Find my books at the following retailers Amazon, Barnes and Noble, AllRomanceEbooks and Secret Cravings Publishing


Head back to the hop

            The other day my son made this statement to my husband. “When you talk about the things you can’t stand that people do momma does them all.  Why did you marry her?”  His response.  “She wasn’t that way when I married her.”  I’m not saying it was a slap in the face…okay, so it was.  It’s common to be disgusted by weight gain or that your spouse doesn’t clean up or maybe their family drives you to the point you want to murder; most of those things can be changed by exercise, a slight change in hygiene or cutting back on family picnics.  But every part of a person’s personality?  I guess I’m lucky I have a nice ass or I might have completely lost my family.

            As we get older we’re supposed to get better right?  We learn from our failures and grow into better people.  Is my husband the same person he was when we got married?  Yes.  That doesn’t mean he hasn’t learned and grown as a human being, but at the core he’s still the same guy.  Was who I was then or who I am now the real me?

            I recently was reminded that I’d stolen a car and drove about myself sixty miles back home after a failed date.  I don’t remember telling my friends in 2002 that I’d love to be a writer, but I did.  My husband says I used to have a ton of friends and spoke my mind without a care.  Like my husband said, “If your mother cared what people thought would she have never married me.”  I guess that’s true, but where does that put me now?

            The conversations about who I am and used to be had me crying.  I would never tell my family because I’ve conditioned myself not to blurt out or share my emotions.  That doesn’t make my husband bad or me weak; it’s an adjustment I made probably because one or two times he was in a bad mood and I hit him with something and was snapped at.  Seeing my behavior as a failure, I stopped.

            I think the last time the “old” me emerged in front of them was at a football game when someone had the nerve to comment on how my husband was holding the sticks and talking with the ref.  The funny thing is, when people snap at me for the same behavior I curl into myself.  But someone questioning my man…well let’s just say I had to take over holding the sticks because my husband had to handle the situation I created.  Mind you my husband has told me for years, “You have six-eleven black man behind you always, don’t let people talk stuff to you.”

            The one time I use the virtue allotted to me through the marriage vows it backfired big time.  I received a lecture and ended up crying, because there are two things I’m liable to go all Mama Bear about, my son and my man. 

            Those who’ve followed me for a while know I’m a scouter.  I have many scouting activities and duties.  My son has stepped away as of late, but I’m still involved.  As I’m reassessing my life I began to realize why.  My husband will tell you some Freudian BS about trying to win my father’s approval…blah, blah…Okay maybe in the beginning, but somewhere around year two of my involvement I believe there was a split in me.

            I was good at being a scouter and I could be a nerdy, jackass, goofball, in fact I was encouraged to be one.  There’s a slight rush I’d have while there and I believe it’s because the “old” me still lives there.  Now, that’s not to say some the new me isn’t sadly there also, especially when it comes to my son, but this year with him no longer around has brought the smart ass car thief back.

            Unlike most people I can pretty much pinpoint the death of the old me to exact moments.  These were times when I lost my fight and when I tried to fight back I was shoved back down. The first was the loss of my identical twins at seven weeks gestation followed by a year of failed infertility treatments.  The knock out punch and the shove.  The second was when I left my job in the Emergency Room.  I thought I was doing it for my own mental health and although I love the flexibility and the management team over me at my current job I have very little human interaction.  You see I work from home and only have to be “in-house” four times a year.  The mental challenges I have are no longer life and death, they’re computations.  Even those are fleeting.  Although, yes technically I could try to go back to my old ER or a new one it really wouldn’t work for my family.   Returning doesn’t insure the old me would be back.  Push, and then shove back down.

            The final nail in the coffin, as it were, was my son’s third grade football team.  I was still my old self.  Making, what I thought, were friends only to be slapped with backbiting and stabbing at the end of the season.  The worst part is what the parents were upset about we would have adjusted if they would have just talked to my husband and I.  This was followed up with years of the same people attacking my husband and son and I was afraid to attack back because of repercussions for both of them.  I’ve been suppressing my inner Mama Bear, hence why when she snaps it’s for many slights not just the one in front of me.  When I fought, I was shoved back down, then I just stopped.

            I’ve now learned I’m going to have to fight dirty because suppressing the real me has worse repercussions then what I’d feared would happen to my son.  My son and my husband can survive anything my mouth dishes out (I hope) because my family can’t survive me being safe.  You’ve now all been warned, the “real” me is coming out so don’t be stupid enough to leave your car keys lying around.

           

            Have you ever had a meltdown?  Of course you have.  We all have them.  Who was there to bring you back to earth?  Was it your mom?  A babysitter?  A best friend?  Your partner?  We all have them and they are usually over something that seemed important at the time.  I wonder what Claire would think as she got older about this little meltdown from The Guardian’s Heart…mind you she is only two and half.

Don't forget to go all the way to the bottom to enter and win.



Biology is the least of what makes someone a mother. -Oprah Winfrey

“I wanna my mama,” Claire screamed on the playground as she held her bloodied knee.

“Claire, it’ll be okay. Just let me look at it,” Mandy said, trying to calm down Claire’s tantrum. She’d been running across the playground in the back of the daycare when she fell down.

“Wants mama Bee Ms. Mand,” Claire pleaded.

Normally the staff would try to calm the child down themselves. Even little Lukey knew he wouldn’t get Mary Beth if he cried for her. To him all of the owners might as well be his mother. But Mandy was shocked. Initially she thought Claire was asking for her real mom, not Gabbie.

Gabbie was rocking a baby in the infant room while the devastated Claire sat sobbing in the lobby. Mandy came in and shook her head at Gabbie.

“What?”

“Claire wants her mother,” Mandy said with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, well…” Gabbie always got a pain her chest when any of the Thomases talked about their parents. It was still so fresh.

“Bee, her mother Bee.”

“She called me her mother?” Gabbie said, a little set back.

Claire had said some things over the past few weeks that she was a good mama, but to say she was her mama…Gabbie stood up and put the now sleeping Jane in one of the cribs.

In the lobby, Claire sat on the bench by a set of cubbies with her injured leg elevated.

“Mama, I’s toreded my preddies,” Claire said as her bottom lip trembled.

“I see that,” Gabbie said, sitting on her knees in front of Claire and opening the first aid kit Mandy had left on the bench.

“My preddies no more,” Claire cried as Gabbie put on latex free gloves and started to clean Claire’s injured knee.

The fact she’d hurt herself was not the reason Claire was crying. She had torn her tights or “pretties” as she liked to call them. Claire cherished every one of her pretties. Gabbie had learned Claire was very much a girl, something Gabbie never was. Gabbie never cared about dresses or sparkly shoes when she was growing up, but to Claire they were a necessity.

As Gabbie pulled down Claire’s soft pink tights with the lacy backs, Claire looked as if she was being skinned alive. Whatever pain she felt from her scraped knee could have been as great as an amputation, she’d never acknowledge it compared to losing a set a tights to a hole in the knee.

“Mama inks my bess,” Claire sobbed as if she was just shot through the heart with an arrow.

“You still have your white and your blue and your orange pretties and don’t forget your ones with the little flowers on them.”

“I’s never gets better preddies…” she declared with all the melodrama befitting Scarlett O’Hara declaring her love for Tara.

“These pretties were almost too small for you, you’ve been growing so much. How about this?” Gabbie suggested, trying to hold back from laughing in the poor child’s face. To Claire this was life or death. “Your daddy and I will pick you up a new pair on the way home and maybe some big girl underwear since you’ve been doing so good on the potty. These pretties were made for little girls that wear diapers.”

Claire’s eyes perked up. She started to smile, but only briefly, holding the now-torn tights to her heart as she stood up and stuck her chest out.

“Dees was bestest preddies ever,” one little crystal tear fell from her dark mahogany left eye, catching on her soft lash then flowing down her chubby cheek.

Gabbie gave Claire a hug to hide the fact she was about to piss her pants from laughing. She released Claire, who returned to the toddler room still clutching her torn tights and Gabbie fell back on the floor and covered her face with her hand so she could laugh without hurting any feelings.

“Is it safe now,” Mandy said holding her gut as she gasped for air. “I lost it when…when she said…” Mandy couldn’t hold in her laughter. “I’s never gets better pretties. Did you see her lip quivering?”

“She’s in pain right now,” Gabbie said, trying to be serious. Instead, she ended up rolling on her stomach. “My daughter is such a drama queen.”

“Your what?” Mandy said, catching her breath. “Gabbie, she’s not your daughter.”

“I just called her my daughter,” Gabbie sat up and put her head in her hands. What was she thinking?

“Yeah, you and Case have been together a month and you’re already claiming children that aren’t even his as yours.”


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Every author wants to hold their book in their hands.  Feel the paper against their skin and enjoy the weight of the manuscript that they may not of even printed off.  Some authors are ecofriendly that way, or just too darn broke to afford the ink for the printer, but I digress.

            As we continue to move into a paperless society (okay everyone says the catch phrase in business then the lawyers step in and next thing you know it’s there in triplicate) the publishing world is taking it on from the base level.  There are some traditionalist that need a pen and paper to write with but most of us use our computers for the full process.  Outside of one imprint publisher I’ve never sent my manuscript off in paper form for submission. 

            So from writing, querying, submitting, editing and publishing books are done electronically.  The contracts though do have to be printed (see lawyer comment above.)

            Now to the consumer.  I have many friends, relatives and fans that love the feel of a book in their hands.  Some of them just want my book in their hands because they know me, etc.  Others haven’t moved into the e-reader stage yet for one reason or another.  I remember thinking my friend was crazy when she first showed me a Kindle I don’t know how many years ago.  When my husband bought mine over a year ago as a congrats-you-got-a-publishing-deal I was sure I’d barely use it.  I’m not one to do much on my phone or even my Nintendo DS.  Like most kids I get bored after a month or two.  Well I’m sure you guessed where my fully stocked Kindle is, yep always by my side either being read or reading a story to me on audiable.   I still do have a print book that I’m reading at all times.  I used to keep three or four print books around the house for when my mood changed now, I have multiple books going on my Kindle.

            We’re not moving away from print and I could never truly see that happening, but as I hear horror stories of e-readers being broken I’m not as disturbed as a book being dropped in a mud puddle.  Why?  Because safely tucked in a cloud is the e-reader library waiting to be accessed.    

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Case Thomas is always in control whether its on the basketball court, the lab where he works, or in his love life. He thinks he has everything all figured out. All that changes when his parents pass away during his last year of college and Case is thrown into fatherhood when he becomes temporary guardian to two adorable twin toddlers. Weeks later, exhausted and running out of time, Case must decide if he's ready to become a father to these children, or give them up and move on with what's left of his life. Then he meets Gabbie Vaulst. 

Gabbie is amazing with the kids, owns her own business, and has all the right curves in all the right places. She can tell Case is attracted to her, but does he really love her or is he just settling for a surrogate Mom who can wrangle his new kids? Knowing that she's falling in love with him, she chooses to push him away until his world straightens out. 

Can Case prove to Gabbie, and himself, that his feelings are real? Or is this sudden family too much for both of them to handle? The odds, as well as members of their past who've come out of the woodwork, are against them, but when kids are involved, all bets are off.

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