Cinqo de Mayo has always sounded like such a fun holiday, a celebration of spring and flowers and margaritas. (I especially love margaritas, yes more than I love flowers and spring weather.) (Myren, my chauffeur is tsk-tsking me right now as if I’m a teenager expressing forbidden desires. I wish.)

Anyway, this year the celebration was extra special because May 5^thhappened to also be the same day as the running of the Kentucky Derby. (Forget the mint juleps. Picture ladies in big hats—maybe a few sombreros—sipping big fat icy margaritas with salted rims.) I digress.

It’s not that I go wild every year on May 5^th. It isn’t always on a Saturday and sometimes I don’t look up from my computer long enough between May 4^thand 6^thto notice that Cinqo de Mayo just happened. (Myren, my chauffeur is laughing at me now and I’m not really sure why… so I slap his arm and stare him down until he stops. Politely.)

But this year, this was the year the Derby ran away with the Cinqo and I went to a Derby de Mayo party thrown by an old college friend and had a ball with a dozen or so ex-UConn huskies. I’ve included pictures as proof. We wore hats and bet on the race and there was a prize for the best hat—pictured here. Not a UConn alum, but I feel obliged to illustrate how far some people will go to win a prize. She deserve it.

For me and my friends, the fun had little to do with the derby or the cinqo and everything to do with old friendships still alive and well (Myren pointed out that we ought to be happy that us old people were alive and well never mind the friendships. I slapped his arm again and threatened a punch in the nose. Politely. He offered a smug look in return. Darn chauffeur.)

We became friends forty years ago and have managed to get through the grind of life in the intervening years without losing our zest, or sense of humor and fun and sense of what’s most important. Our people.

Also, we drank lots of beer and sangria and margaritas, not unlike we did forty years ago, and celebrated our friendship and raised a glass to Derby de Mayo for giving us the perfect excuse.

As an author, no celebration would be complete without a new release. Beachcomber Danger is just out and the 8^thinstallment in the Beachcomber Investigations romantic detective series is the best yet. (Myren finally shakes his head in agreement, but not because he’s taking my word for it, only because he read it in a review.)

Beachcomber Danger is $.99 for a limited time or free on Kindle Unlimited.

Beachcomber Danger

Amazon
StephanieQueen.com

I’m not good at following directions. I know this about myself. So as soon as someone tells me not to do something, or that something can’t, or shouldn’t, be done, that’s pretty much an engraved RSVP ASAP invitation to me. When that inability to do what I’m told and my insatiable curiosity intersect all kinds of wild things happen. In this case, the thing is my new release, Make Me Blush, a beach-read anthology of stories I’ve been told were too sexy for publication.

Here’s something I know: women like to read stories about dedicated partners in sexually-charged situations.

In my other life, I teach freshman composition at a college. We write essays, the standard sort that college students have been writing for years. Thesis statements, MLA formatting, research. All the usual stuff. One place where I get to mix things up is in the prompts. A while back I was wondering what my students thought of the 50 Shades phenomena, so I included a prompt about the widespread popularity of the series. The prompt encouraged the students to question the contrast between the book’s content, the relationship between the two characters, and the current wave of new feminism. Bottom line—why do women connect with this book?

As you might imagine, the prompt generated interest. After reading several essays I’ve found a distinct difference between the younger, 18-20, and older, 25-30 women in regard to Mr. Grey’s relationship appeal.

The younger women find him super romantic. They are drawn to the idea of having a man so dedicated to you that he is “interested” in every aspect of your life. They don’t find him stalky or boundary-crossing, they find him devoted. These younger women write very little about the sex; they write almost exclusively about the attentive relationship. It seems that while young women view career and societal contribution as essential and validating, they still long for a dedicated partner.

The older women write about the sex. They are drawn to the idea of an extremely intense almost completely sexual relationship that has no emotional commitments. These women reflect that while they hope to have an emotionally intimate relationship in the future, they are, at present, busy with school and work and don’t have time to develop “that sort of thing” right now. This staying-single-longer, waiting-for-real-commitment life plan is on the rise, but as noted above with the younger set, this older set seeks devotion. They simply define devotion in a different way.

Here’s another thing: the popularity of female-centered stories are on the rise.

My thinking is that there are two reasons for this. Social media, the obvious one. Privacy and easy access afford the opportunity to enjoy, or experiment with, whatever intrigues. The second reason is the increase in younger readers. In the past, the typical age of the romance reader was about 30-60. Thanks to the popularity of YA books, and the creation of the new adult genre, younger women are reading romance—and women this age don’t want ‘the usual.’ Young women aren’t looking to reinforce their traditional values, they want to test boundaries. They want adventure. They seek vicarious thrills. What they heck, we all want vicarious thrills; that’s why we read romance.

We also love the happy endings.

Of course I write romances with happy endings. That’s one rule I won’t break. There’s a reason why its called escapist fiction.

In short: Dedicated partners + female centered, sexually charged situations + happy endings = Make Me Blush

Make Me Blush is out now. Get your copy and see if you think its too sexual, too feme focused. Its on Kindle and available from other outlets: books2read.com/u/3G98Gp.

MAKE ME BLUSH

Three men: risking everything for the women they love…
The result: three stories of wild, over-the-top sexy satisfaction and three happily-ever-afters.

Pink Lace
Edward knows his wife wants more than his usual brand of gentle lovemaking, so he signs a contract with Winona, a woman who creates custom sexual experiences. He expects a simple lesson in seduction, something to spark Kelly’s interest, but as he settles in front of newly installed video monitors, he realizes he’s been neglecting his wife’s beautiful passion.

Pink Bow
In a luxurious house on the beach, where couples gather to privately enjoy a taste of sexual freedom, Abby’s about to experience the hottest gift a husband can give.

Wicked Pink
If Matthew knew how intensely Tara, his gorgeous raven-haired wife, loves him, he might not deliver her into the arms of his best friend, Dan. Dan thought he’d left behind his life filled with whips and exotic tools. But when given a chance to put his talents to use, he realizes that knowing how to unleash a woman’s wicked side has advantages.

Get your copy on Kindle http://a.co/gHI2Njp and other outlets: books2read.com/u/3G98Gp

I just got back from Hawaii and a wonderful writer’s retreat! I spent time with my sister Delilah Devlin, J.M Madden, Susan Stoker and my daughter Megan. We swam, snorkeled, saw a turtle and lot of fish, rode ATVs through Kualoa Ranch where they filmed Jurassic Park, Jumanji, Skull Island and 50 First Dates. We visited the Polynesian Cultural center where many of the Pacific island cultures were represented like Samoa, Tonga, Fiji, Tahiti, Hawaii and New Zealand. I wrote 24000 words on my 6th book in the Mission Six Series while there. The first one is live today! All in all, I refilled my creative well with ideas. Now to get back to work! Get a copy of ONE INTREPID SEAL and start reading the series!

One Intrepid SEAL

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Hello Sexy Readers,

My name is Sierra Brave, and I’m excited to be featured on Delilah’s blog today! A big thank you to her and you for having me. In my recently released book, Real Cowboys Love Cats, the heroine is a volunteer with a Trap-Neuter-Release (TNR) program.

So what’s a TNR program?

First, let’s discuss what TNRs are not. TNRs are by no means an alternative to responsible pet ownership and aren’t meant for cats that could easily fit into a family and be adopted.

TNR organizations attempt to manage feral populations through the non-lethal option of capturing strays, finding low or no cost spay and neuter resources and then returning the animal to it where it was found.  TNRs have both pros and cons and as many opponents as proponents. Advocates of TNRs believe the program saves cat lives while also allowing feral cats to thin vermin populations. Detractors believe TNRs are irresponsible at best and dangerous at worst. Personally, I think anyone willing to donate their time in an effort to help others (humans or animals) is admirable. Which side of the debate you fall on is up to you, but either way, please spay and neuter your pets.

Sources/Resources for more information on TNR Programs:
Pro – http://forallanimals.org/community-cats-and-trap-neuter-return-faqs/
Pro – https://www.alleycat.org/our-work/trap-neuter-return/
Con – https://blog.nationalgeographic.org/2017/03/08/tnr-is-dangerous-both-to-cats-and-to-other-animals/
Con – http://www.takepart.com/article/2014/03/31/sorry-cat-lovers-trap-neuter-release-flat-out-doesnt-work

So, onto the main event! Real Cowboys Love Cats is a smoking hot, BBW + cowboy/shifter romance. Although the book is the second installment in the Horse Mountain Shifters series, it’s a standalone with a HEA and absolutely no cheating.

Real Cowboys Love Cats

Having grown up isolated from other shifters, Abram’s not completely comfortable in his own skin. Nevertheless, after the death of his beloved human mother, he relocated to Horse Mountain to reconnect with his father’s side of the family. Love was the furthermost thing from his mind until he met Maddie.

When Maddie meets Abram, she’s smitten but doesn’t see much of a future. A man, who doesn’t like cats, should be a deal breaker for a mountain lion shifter like her. Yet every time he’s near, her body goes crazy. Could he possibly be her fated mate?

***

Excerpt:

Absently, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Wow. She’s super cute. She had porcelain skin and a short, button nose that accented her high cheekbones and heart-shaped face. Stop staring. You’re here on official business not to flirt with hot babes. His silent, self-scolding did nothing to deter his pounding heart; he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She lifted a meowing meat-bag from her lap, bringing his count to three, before placing the orange tabby on the floor. How can someone so good-looking have so many disreputable pets? As she stood, he eyed her full figure with interest. The tiny bounce in her step as she walked over made her large breasts jiggle beneath the snug tee shirt she was wearing. She stopped in front of him and presented her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Maddie.”

***

Sexy Snippet:

He yanked her arm before twisting it behind her back while reaching out and grabbing a fistful of her hair and then pulling it taut. It’s as if he can read my mind! He began to buck his hips, gradually building speed. He pounded into her, creating an amazing slapping sound with each mighty thrust. “Yes! That’s it, Abram…so good.”

He leaned over her back, his lips near her ear. “You like?”

“Yes.” She teetered, balancing her weight on her knees and the one arm he’d allowed her.

“Then you’ll love this.”

***

Buy a copy of Real Cowboys Love Cats for only .99 or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.

About the Author

Sierra Brave is a multi-published author of blush-inducing, racy romance. She writes across genres, dabbling in a little bit of everything, including ménage and BDSM.  Her love of erotic fiction started in her last year of high school when she first read the sensual classic, Fanny Hill. She felt so naughty yet liberated with her copy tucked away in her book bag and hopes her work will have the same delicious effect on her readers.

Stalk Sierra!
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Wyoming is a land of contrasts. There’s the rugged peaks of the Teton Range on the west side of the state, just south of the geysers and painted pots of Yellowstone. On the eastern edge of the state, you have Devil’s Tower among the rolling hills of near Hulett. In between, you have miles and miles of prairie and high plains, where there are more cattle than people.

But in the middle, there’s a strange geological site that few tourists ever see.  Even from the highway that goes by it, you can easily miss it if you don’t know it’s there. Until a few years ago, you were able to stand right at the crumbling edge if you dared to look over the sight, but now it’s fenced off.

The area goes by the name of Hell’s Half Acre, and I’m sure the early settlers thought it deserved the title. It’s a lot bigger than half an acre-actually about 320 acres. It’s an area of cliffs and rock spires and boulders and an assortment of colors. It’s hard to imagine what geological forces created it.

Lori Grenville, the main character in my new release, Wolves’ Gambit, didn’t have the opportunity to visit Hell’s Half Acre while she was in Wyoming. (I couldn’t figure out a way to write it into the story.) She spent her time in the dusty plains nearer to the Bighorn Mountains. She didn’t have time for sightseeing anyway.

Wolves’ Gambit

Wolf-shifter Lori Grenville was rescued from near-slavery and a brutal pack leader by the Free Wolves. To pay back the favor, she’s dedicated her life to helping others in the same situation, leading shifters to safety and a new start, risking her life in the process. She’s faced down alphas and has no qualms in undermining pack structure.

Now she’s challenged with the task of restoring an alpha to his rightful place. If she gets it right, she can stop a war from ripping apart two packs and spreading across an entire state. If she fails, she’ll be among the first to die.

There’s still the option of walking away and letting the Jaeger and Destin packs destroy each other. That means she’ll fail in her original mission of rescuing the daughter of the Jaeger alpha before the girl is forced into marriage for political gain.

Lori hasn’t failed in a mission yet. This one may be the exception.

Excerpt:

“Breathe, dammit, breathe!”

Hands pounded on her chest. A spasm ran through her body and she gasped. Air rushed to her aching lungs. She struggled to breathe but her throat was blocked. She couldn’t stop coughing and bile rose. It settled at the back of her mouth. The acid mingled with the sweet flavor of blood and her stomach churned. She retched and a seizure wracked her body.

She was rolled on one side, too weak to protest. Her hair was gently brushed away from her face. She took a shuddering breath and spit, trying to get the bitter tang out of her mouth.

“I’ve got you,” a low voice said.

She heard the words both with her ears and her mind. She slammed the blocks into place. It was too risky to reveal herself when she had no defense against an attack.

A trickle of water slipped across her lips and her tongue darted out to capture it. “More,” she pleaded, and then coughed again.

“I’m going to sit you up so you can have a proper sip. Don’t worry, I have you, little human.”

Strong arms wrapped around her and brought her to a sitting position. The screaming pain in her leg settled into a dull ache. A warm body behind her gave her something to lean against. A cool object was pressed to her lips and she tilted her head back as water slipped into her mouth.

“Spit it out,” ordered a new voice.

Reluctantly, she did so. It seemed a shame to waste perfectly fine water.

“This time, swish it around and rinse out your mouth.” It seemed like a good idea. She didn’t want the bitterness of blood to ruin the water’s freshness. She spat out the third sip as well, and the coughing started again.

“It’ll get better. You can swallow this time.”

She lapped greedily as the water bottle touched her lips, demanding more. It was pulled away far too soon. She whined in disappointment.

“A little at a time.”

The swallow was bigger this time. She tried to open her eyes but they were glued shut. Like a tired child, she raised her fists to rub them. Someone grabbed her arms to stop her and she groaned.

“Let me wash your face first. We need to see what the damage is and don’t want to injure your eyes.” Another new voice. How many people were there?

While wet fabric stroked her face, she listened. She counted the breathing of four people close to her, but quiet murmurs told her there were many more nearby. A soft buzz in her head was either the beginning of a massive headache or a sign of many unheard conversations going on.

Buy links:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1368542376
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wolves-gambit-1
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1128396666?ean=2940159062932

GIVEAWAY!

And a Giveaway! In celebration of the release of Wolves’ Gambit, one or more lucky people will win an e-book version of Wolves’ Pawn, the first book of the series. You can enter here:

Rafflecopter http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/a7d27c8b1/?

About the Author

Born and raised among the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania, P.J. MacLayne still finds inspiration for her books in that landscape. She is a computer geek by day and a writer by night who currently lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. When she’s not in front of a computer screen, she might be found exploring the back roads of the nearby national forests and parks. In addition to the Free Wolves’ stories, she is also the author of the Oak Grove series.

P.J. MacLayne can be reached on: 
Facebook https://facebook.com/pjmaclayne
Twitter https://twitter.com/pjmaclayne
Google + https://plus.google.com/u/0/+PJMacLayne/posts
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/P.J.-MacLayne/e/B00HVE8WZI
Blog http://pjmaclayne.blogspot.com/
BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/p-j-maclayne

Growing up I was a sucker for history. How people lived in ages past always intrigued me. Born in 1956, I grew up a child of the 60’s Black is Beautiful movement. Nacent pride in being Black — as we were calling ourselves then — intensified my curiosity. I hungered for anything and everything that could teach me African American history. That’s why TV shows touching on the hidden stories of African Americans stick with me to this day.

I remember Ossie Davis guest starring as an ex-slave caring for his son on Bonanza. Watching Yaphet Kotto on High Chaparral where I first learned about Buffalo Soldiers. I can still see the boxed paragraph with illustration in the pages of the old TV Guide highlighting the episode. Little did I know as I watched those shows and others like them I too would be using historical fact to create historical fiction.

My most recent novella, Better To Marry Than To Burn, was inspired by a true story.  African-American married women in Arizona mining towns advertised back East to bring marriageable women West. They convinced the unmarried miners to settle down instead of fighting over prostitutes all the time. What a great set up for an opposites-attract second-chance romance.

This wasn’t my first encounter with the concept of mail-order brides. I used to watch a show called Here Come The Brides about three brothers who owned a logging company in Seattle. Bobby Sherman, a teen idol back then played Jeremy the youngest Bolt brother who stuttered and David Soul, later of Starsky and Hutch fame, played Joshua the middle brother. Its premise was the Bolt brothers had loggers who were tired of having no women in their lives and were ready to quit. The solution was to send oldest brother Jason, played by Robert Brown, back East to Massachusetts and return with single women looking for husbands. Many would be available and willing thanks to the lack of men created by the Civil War. I remembered the show had done excellent episodes on finding mates for Jewish and Chinese characters. Somewhere in the dusty recesses of my memory I knew they had done an episode trying to match African Americans, too. Was the memory real or had I made it up? Lo and behold, Google showed my memory was still good.

“A Bride for Obie Brown” had aired in 1970. I was pleasantly surprised to rediscover who had played the roles of Obie and his intended bride Lucenda. They’re now household names although I wonder if some of you may not be old enough to know who they are. Here’s a hint: their equally famous partners were actress Tyne Daly and jazz musician Miles Davis. Can you name them?

Better To Marry Than To Burn

Erotic African-American historical romance
Release date: April 25, 2018

Learn more here: https://amzn.to/2JyLKu1, here: http://bit.ly/2DHdb0x and here: www.michalscott.webs.com.

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Caesar King’s ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society’s traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave’s offer and heads West for marriage on her terms. Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit makes it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender?

Excerpt:

With thanks to God, he pushed past her flimsy drawers to the moist welcome of her center. Her 
vaginal walls gripped his fingers with surprising 
force. No amount of twisting or turning wrenched 
them free. God, to have that grip surrounding his 
shaft.

He pulled back and studied her face. Eyes still 
closed, a sly smile bowed her perfect lips. She 
enjoyed this battling as much as he.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mrs. 
King?”

Her eyelids rose with the slow grace of sunrise. A gleam as sly as her smile shone in her gaze. “You call that brutal, Mr. King?”

She unclenched her lower muscles, allowing his fingers momentary retreat. With great care, she grasped his hand then slid his fingers between her folds once more.

“Holy Christ, woman. What—?”

The gentle rubbing robbed him of his ability to think.

“Jesus, have mercy,” he wheezed.

She slid his fingers from her wet sex into his mouth. He moaned, lost in her delectable taste.

Without taking her gaze from his face, she raked her gloved hand down his chest, across his belly, to his groin. Anticipation tensed his muscles in the wake of her touch. He watched mesmerized as, with a practiced ease, she unbuttoned his fly, pushed past the fabric, sought, found and stroked his cock. Her woolen gloves imparted a delicious friction he couldn’t oppose, even if he’d wanted. Delight enlivened every muscle in his body, including his jaded heart.

Jesus. This couldn’t be more than arousal. Could it?

Her fingers squeezed and his body arched upward on the yes swelling his spirit with joy. He threw back his head, mouth open, ready to shout as he neared the point of release.

Then she let him go.

He doubled over, slain by the abandonment. His lungs constricted, bereft of air. Reason deserted him too.

She stood and smoothed down her skirts with the hand that had massaged his shaft more deftly than he ever had. Reseated, she grabbed the reins and snapped the leather against his horse’s rump.

“Get up there.”

The wagon jostled Caesar from side to side. Still unable to straighten up, he looked into eyes gleaming with triumph. Her lips curved in a regal smirk.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mr. King?”

Some twenty-odd years ago, I was a young airman deployed to the Middle East for the first time. I was one of four females out of a camp of 208 airmen, which may sound like heaven for a single woman, but was truly more a hassle than anything. Luckily, my friends had introduced to me a nice Staff Sergeant a few years older than me, and encouraged me to stick with him. “He’s safe,” they told me. “He won’t try anything and he’ll keep less honorable men away.” (Less honorable may not have been their exact words, but since I’m just a guest on this blog, I’ll keep it clean. *wink*)

They were right. He was good looking and fun, but above all, he was a perfect gentleman. One evening, we were hanging out in my quarters, doing laundry and watching Shaft (“He’s a baaad mother—Shut your mouth!”), and regaling each other with our life stories. We were all alone, and still, he didn’t try anything.

So I did. I kissed him. I never did have much patience.

Two decades and four kids later, and we still celebrate our first “date”. Sometimes we mark the occasion by going out or exchanging cards; other times, we simply enjoy a quiet evening at home. Friends have chuckled at us, but April 25^th is as important to us as our October wedding anniversary. I think because we both knew, at that moment, we’d found a forever thing. Saying “I do” eighteen months later was merely icing on the proverbial cake.

Over the course of our marriage, we’ve had our ups and downs. What married couple hasn’t? Our days are more mundane than extraordinary. After long commutes and child-rearing and housekeeping and all the drudgery of a typical daily life, we more often than not collapse into our bed bone-tired and world-weary, a good night kiss and the tangle of our feet the extent of our romantic interludes. So it’s fitting that our relationship should have begun with something as routine as laundry and a movie.

The thing is, there’s comfort in the routine. I know I don’t have to wow him with fancy lingerie to keep his interest and he knows he doesn’t have to bring me flowers every night to keep mine. That first date showed us that even in the ordinary, we connected. We didn’t need a live fireworks display to feel the sparks between us. We didn’t need moonlight and dancing to feel the romance. We just needed each other.

The hazard with living in an ordinary marriage is that familiarity can breed contempt, or worse. It’s easy to take the other person for granted as you go about your daily routine, and once that happens, it can be hard to get that sizzle and spark back, the one you felt when things were new and different. Each partner falls into a specific role in the relationship and it can be much too tempting to expect them to always play that role. It can provide the perfect breeding ground for resentment and discord.

In my latest release, Love Me Once More, Lainie and Ethan experience this sort of conflict in their marriage. In fact, as the book opens, they’ve been separated for a year. Childhood sweethearts who married young, they each had expectations for their own lives and for each other that they never really communicated. Lainie’s career aspirations took precedence over Ethan’s needs, but in all fairness, he allowed it. He did what a lot of us do, which was suffer in silence, let the resentment marinate in its own corrosive juices until everything imploded. It was the wake-up call Lainie needed and heeded, and though it took her a while, she returns to set things right and repair her marriage. It takes Ethan a little longer to get on the same page, but – and I don’t think it’s spoiling anything to reveal this, since it is a true romance with a happily-ever-after – eventually, they reunite.

Those of us who’ve ever been in long-term relationships have probably experienced something similar. You get caught up in the routine. You forget to kiss him good night. He forgets to say goodbye on his way out the door on a busy morning. Meals are magically cooked and laundry is miraculously washed, all without a thank you or an acknowledgment. It happens to all of us and it doesn’t signify disaster, as in Ethan and Lainie’s case. But it can put a chink in your marital armor.

Which brings me back to why we still celebrate our first date. Because it’s a reminder of how far we’ve come and yet how close we still are to those young little fools connecting over a pile of camouflage uniforms. In the ordinary, we found something extraordinary. We found each other. And that’s something neither of us ever want to take for granted.

Love Me Once More

Cate Tayler’s latest release Love Me Once More is a prequel novella to her Mystic Point series.

Second chances are for suckers.

Or so Ethan Thomas believes. A year ago, he walked away from his wife—the woman he has loved since he was ten years old—after believing she betrayed him. Since then he’s settled in his hometown of Mystic Point, Connecticut among old friends, with a new job and a jaded outlook on life. As long as he can keep his estranged wife Lainie out of his mind, he has a chance to live contentedly, if not happily. Happiness is overrated, anyway.

Lainie Thomas has spent the past year in a solitary confinement of her own making. She once had everything—a successful career, a home in a big city, and the man of her dreams. But she took it for granted and ended up losing it all. Now she’s been given one last shot at redemption, one last chance to show Ethan she never betrayed him, one last time to convince him their marriage is worth fighting for.

But can she convince him to love her once more or is she too late to reclaim the happily-ever-after they both deserve?

Link: http://catetayler.com/book/love-me-once-more/