I think I have an entity that hides things from me. No joke! Twice in the past two months I bought allergy/mucus relief meds that got lost in my car. Maybe some entity was telling me not to take them, since I had been taking the meds a lot lately and some folks say they are bad for us. With the first set of meds, my calendar also disappeared. I still like paper calendars, and I depend on mine. Of course, I saw none for 2019 in the Dollar Tree, so I bought a notebook to fill in as a calendar and a calendar for 2020. As luck would have it, new calendars for the school year appeared in stores after I created my own. I didn’t find the lost one after I created one. Nor did the meds show up. Usually, things I replace show up to mock me. Maybe Mercury being in retrograde has something to do with my losses.

With the second set of meds I also had herbal tea bags in boxes. That bag never made it into my house, but it wasn’t in my car, either. The boxes should have made losing the bag less likely. BUT it didn’t! Again, maybe I wasn’t supposed to take the meds, but the tea?

The kicker, this time, is a blood pressure cuff and a pack of batteries. I bought it Sunday, but it didn’t make it into my house. Yes, I searched my trunk and the inside of my car, ’cause I tossed my wallet and my cell phone onto the driver’s seat and two larger bags into my trunk. The receipt for the BP cuff and I will go back to the store where I bought it and hope I left the bag in my buggy when I took it back inside.

The clerk seemed off when he rung up my purchases, but I know he gave it to me, and I know my allergy brain wasn’t working, soooo maybe I did take it back inside.

This summer has been crazy. I now have three books in the Protective Series.

Check out Protecting Melissa.

Protecting Melissa

Get your copy here!

Protecting Melissa is a Romantic Suspense set in Georgia.

Melissa isn’t looking for romance since the murder of her cheating, swindling husband. She wants to teach and mind her own business. However, someone her husband cheated is determined to make her repay money her husband stole before his murder in the bed of one of his paramours.

Complications arise when Gabe, her former crush, walks into her classroom to check on his son, one of her students. The kid has a secret, she knows that secret, and his father wants to know that secret.

When Gabe and Melissa leave a basketball game and find all four tires on her vintage Mustang flat, he determines she needs his protection, despite her insistence she doesn’t. Gabe and Melissa’s brother were best friends. He looked after her when she tagged along behind him and her brother. Since her brother is out of the country Gabe feels obligated to protect her, just until her brother returns.

Someone has planted cameras in her house and made intimate looking photographs he shares on the Internet with her students. Who is sending her threatening emails and how far will her go to get what he wants?

Excerpt:

Melissa and Gabe have been to the police station to report a threatening call from the night before and have returned to her house. Gabe has checked every inch of her house to make sure no one has been there or could get inside. Feeling safe, she checks her email.

Following the laughter, he found her at her desktop computer. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Email.”

He leaned over her shoulder, reading her message.

“Mom has her laptop with her. She sends stories about their stops. Look!” She pointed to a comment. “They’re having such a good time.”

“Be a shame to give them a reason to worry about you.”

“After all the stuff you did to my house, no one could break in here. I’m perfectly safe. So go away.”

She closed her mom’s email.

She didn’t recognize the next address. The subject line read Favorite Teacher.

She laughed again. “Probably a project for computer class. Let’s open the attachment and check it out.”

“No signature, darlin’. Do you recognize the screen name?” Gabe pulled a chair beside hers. Her gardenia scent nearly made his eyes cross with desire. Damn the situation. The damned situation was the reason he was alone with her and so close he could feel her body heat and the reason he’d had a hard-on much of the past two days.

“Do you really think I know all the screen names for my students? I have a hundred and forty students and a homeroom list of thirty. Then there are my past students and the faculty.”

“And they all have your email address?”

“A lot of kids use it to ask about assignments. Some keep in touch during school breaks and some send me photos. A few send me jokes and such. I discourage that because of the volume and time factor. Way too many kids.”

She downloaded the attachment and saved to the desktop. Then she opened it.

Her picture appeared on the screen. She stood in front of her classroom.

Gabe laughed. “An admirer, I see.”

“Probably from the yearbook candids.”

The first photo faded and a second one took its place. It showed Lissie running, concentration in her expression. It was grainy like an enlargement of a telephoto lens shot but still a good action photo. It grabbed his attention.

Seeing the third photo appear, he took the mouse from under her hand. Her gasp made him look at her, then back at the image of her sprawled across her bed, her eyes closed, the cover rumpled. Her gown had settled high on her thighs. One hand held the hem of the gown and the other rested on her breast.

“Pervert!” he growled. His cock loved the photo, but his conscience wanted smash the person who had taken it.

Gabe reached past Lissie to turn on her radio, in case someone was listening to them.

Her voice came out in a whisper. “How did that happen? Gabe, someone broke into my house and watched me sleep. That’s why I felt like someone was watching me.”

He grabbed his cell and dialed Bry’s number. (Bry is a cop.)

Lissie gasped. “Omigod!”

He wrapped an arm around her, waiting for Bry to answer his phone, and watched the next photo materialize on the screen. It showed her car with its slashed tires and Lissie examining them.

“Oh, shit! Come on, Bry, answer.” He pounded the desk. He muttered an obscenity as the voice mail rambled on. “Call me on my cell ASAP,” he muttered into his phone.

The final photo showed Lissie in her shower.

Links: Connect with the author
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Happy Saturday! I just wanted to poke my head in the door today to remind you about something. If you are a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, you have access to FREE books! If want to get a FREE copy of Stranded, you better get it TODAY, because it’s leaving KU tomorrow! Last chance, folks!

Remember, there are 13 luscious erotic short stories inside this volume. If you’re looking for a good deal, get your FREE copy today. But hey, even if you don’t have KU, $0.99 is a GREAT PRICE for this volume!

Then, if you’re still hungry for sexy FREE short stories (sorry, KU subscribers only), every one of my Stepbrothers Stepping Out shorties is in KU! You can check out the stories on my Short Stories Page. Here’s just a sampling of what you can pick up for FREE!

And don’t forget! Next Tuesday, my shorty, Quincy Down Under, releases—and it will be available through KU for a limited time!

UPDATE: The winner is…Colleen C!
*~*~*

As a lot of you may know, I am a water person! Meaning I love everything from a gently-tumbling stream to the splash of crashing waves as they race to a sandy beach. In fact, my new release Dangerous Lies uses a lot of the fantastic places I’ve vacationed in Florida as part of the story’s backdrop.

But this year I decided to head upward, so I took an early June vacation to the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. My family and I spent the week in a fabulous cabin high in the mountains just outside of Gatlinburg, where on clear days the distant mountain tops were visible. Other times they were cloaked in the clouds.

The entire region is just breathtaking! And that includes the ridge after ridge of forested mountains, plus the fast-rushing streams sliding over boulders smoothed by time, to eventually merge with a waterfall’s cascading waters. Then there are the natural trails, such as the one I climbed to Grotto Falls, that offer a different dimension of hiking. Paths that have been walked by many…with endless more hikers to come in future years.

Weathermen kept predicting rain, but most times there was only a brief shower. Except, one morning as I sat in a rocking chair on the porch, the steady drizzle turned into an all-out downpour! I loved the sound of the heavy rain moving through the trees on its way to my location. Thank goodness there was a nice half-porch roof covering so I could just stay where I was and enjoy the morning storm.

Since the cabin was so high up in the mountains, being on the porch felt as if I was one with nature amid the tall trees. In fact, during the downpour, I was able to see the rain hitting on top of the leaves…to see the delicate yet sturdy stems quiver with each drop’s touch…to see the leaves dancing in the rain. And my soul danced with them. That I’ll never forget.

I’d love to hear about a time the weather and its effect on your vacation was almost as exciting as the trip itself.

Contest

In celebration of my July 22 release of Dangerous Lies (Shades of Leverage Book 2), I will give one commenter an e-book of Slater’s Revenge—the first book in the Shades of Leverage series. Winner will be selected July 25.

 Dangerous Lies
(Shades of Leverage Book 2)

Release Date: July 22, 2019
Buy Now

Excerpt

She glanced over her shoulder, and there stood the man who’d hit on her. For all that’s holy, couldn’t the guy take no for an answer? “Back off, Dance Man. I told you before, I don’t care what song you play. And I don’t want to dance.”

“That’s good. Real good.” The corners of his mouth quirked upward, along with the tilt of his head and lift of his eyebrows. He chuckled as he slipped into the seat across from her. “Never been called that before.”

“You must really be desperate to keep hitting on someone like me.” Pointing her finger for emphasis, she gritted her teeth and spoke loud and clear in his direction. “Now, leave my table or I’m calling the police.”

The stubble on his jawline caught the light, emphasizing the dark, weathered tan of his now serious expression. His blue eyes focused on her with the intensity of someone looking for clarity before bidding on a rare diamond. She was drawn to the muscles in his forearms as he flexed his fingers back and forth, back and forth.

Caught in his stare, she shivered then noticed the barely visible earbud. She’d seen those on Secret Service agents when she’d visited the White House for an environmental briefing. She’d also seen the earbuds on people not so glad to see her as she dug for dirt on a corruption story. People who didn’t exactly play nice when she got too close to what they were hiding.

Without looking, she reached her hand into her purse leaning against her side, hoping to grab her keychain mace without him noticing. The purse tilted, and the vial slipped from her hand, landing on the floor with a slight thud.

He didn’t flinch. “You need to practice that move.”

What if he were the danger?  She was alone. In the corner of an almost empty restaurant. No one was at the house to expect her home. No one even knew—

Drake. Drake knew. He was right there on the phone. He had to be hearing what was being said.

She wrapped her hand around her phone, ready to use it as a weapon. “If you don’t go away, I’m going to scream.”

The man sighed loud and heavy as he leaned against the high back of the wooden booth, then tapped his earbud and motioned to her phone. “Drake, you should tell this lady who I am before she rips my head off.”

Glancing at the phone, still on FaceTime, there was Drake holding a photo of the man sitting across from her. She lifted her gaze to the actual man and met his blue-eyed stare with one of her own. Evidently, her life had notched up in things that were out of her control. “You’re who’s supposed to protect me?”

“You got a problem with that?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him.

“No. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because you were too busy calling me Dance Man.”

She leaned forward in rebuttal. “Listen. I’ve had a very, very bad week. So, if I’ve upset you, that’s too damn bad.”

He popped the side of his fingers on the table. “Well, you’re not the only one who’s had a shitty week, lady.”

“Hey, you two want to put a lid on the sarcasm?” Drake sounded like he meant business.

They both took a breath.

“That’s better,” Drake said. “This is your protector agent, Mitch Granger. And, this is Elizabeth—”

“Liz,” Mitch stated.

“My name is Elizabeth Walkert.”

“Liz. As long as I’m your protector, your name is Liz.”

Buy Now:  Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple Books

About the Author

Award-winning author Claudia Shelton could write her name before the first day of school, but now she writes romantic suspense, thrillers and contemporary romance. In addition, she presents workshops for readers and authors. Her debut novel, Risk of a Lifetime, released to 5-star reviews, reached Amazon’s Best Sellers Romance Series Top 100 and was named one of eBooks Galore top reads for 2014. She is also a two-time nominated Daphne Du Maurier (Unpublished) finalist for excellence in mystery. Claudia is the author of the Shades of Leverage action-adventure romantic suspense series.

On a personal note, Claudia considers herself a traveler, music lover and water person. A cool drink while listening to the splash of waves is always nice—so is a mug of hot chocolate in the falling snow. Her main priority is spending time with family, friends and her two sweet, conniving rescue dogs.

Website:      http://claudiasheltonauthor.com/
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The winners are…all 11 commenters!
See comment #12.
*~*~*

I’m late posting this today. I got a little covered up with lots of little things I had to take care of—like spending time with my dd who’s going on a trip with her hubby tomorrow. She’ll be gone for nearly two weeks, and I don’t think I can stand it! 🙂

I piddled at updating my work calendar. I’ll have lots more time to write since she won’t be around. I edited my short story, “Quincy Down Under“, which I’m releasing on its own on the 30th. Sexy cover, don’t you think? This story was originally part of the Stranded anthology. You can purchase either of them for just $0.99, so I’m guessing I know which one you’ll want more! 🙂

Contest

Tell me what you’re “piddling at” this weekend for a chance to win a free copy of “Quincy Down Under”!

Hi, everyone! I’m happy to celebrate my newest release, Trashed, here on Delilah’s blog

Trashed is a standalone book, part of my Eastside Brewery series about three brothers and former gangsters who open a craft brewery.

If you like high heat, bad boy heroes and fierce, independent heroines, I think you’ll love Eddie and Carmen.

PRAISE FOR TRASHED

“Get ready to fall in love.” –Hypable

“Absolute masterpiece of a contemporary romance…visionary.” –The Seattle Review of Books

“A story that’s ultimately about culture, community, and the happily ever after we all deserve.” –Daily Waffle

“Powerful and moving.” –TBQ’s Book Palace

 “Trashed is everything you want in a bad boy meets good girl romance—it’s filthy, sweet and complex.” –Dakota Gray, author of Perv

He burns for her. Lucky for him, she likes to play with fire…

My name is Eddie Rosas, but everyone calls me Trouble. Since I got out of prison six months ago, I’ve had one goal: find my father, whatever the cost. My older brother says I need to move on. He also wants me to leave our gang, East Side Hollenbeck, and go straight, but I can’t—not until I uncover the truth about our family and its missing piece.

One problem? I’m distracted. My distraction’s name is Carmen Centeno. Smart, passionate, and tough as hell, Carmen is a woman from the neighborhood who’s built her career as one of the city’s top chefs. She’s a master of creating pleasure both in and out of bed. But when our connection deepens, how can I show her I’m not the trash everyone says I am?

The pressure’s rising. Carmen deserves a man she can depend on. And when the ghosts of my past rise up, I’ll have to outsmart them—or lose my shot at a future with the only woman who believes in me.

BUY THE BOOK:
Amazon US
Barnes & Noble
Apple
Kobo

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends. Her favorite form of procrastination is baking. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and daughter.

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Finally, a new release! It’s been a while, right? Not something readers who’ve followed me  for a while expect. I used to spit out stories at a crazy pace. But I think I can be given a bit of break given all the trauma-drama my family have gone through in recent months with the injury, long recovery, and then death of my father. Losing him, especially when I was so involved in his care, was devastating, but now, I’m ready to get “out there” again.

Last month, my daughter and I made a two-day jaunt to New Orleans to “refill” my writerly well. I think it worked. You can judge the result for yourself. I’ve been to New Orleans multiple times, but this time, I directly applied that experience to the pages I wrote—including the description of where we stayed while we were inside the city.

Enjoy the trip to New Orleans. Enjoy the very sexy romance between my Cajun SEAL, Thibaut, and his childhood sweetheart, Amelie. It’s a hot story, so be sure to have a glass of ice water handy while you read. And when you do read it, let me know whether you’d like more stories set in the Big Easy. 🙂

Hot SEAL, New Orleans Nights

The last thing this SEAL wants is to open his heart to her again, but Amelie needs the “hands on” kind of protection only he can provide…

Navy SEAL, Thibaut “T-Bone” Cyr, has a lot on his mind. The time is approaching when he’ll either have to re-up with the Navy or leave. He’s come home to New Orleans to spend time in his old stomping grounds while he mulls over his decision. New Orleans is where his roots are, where his family lives, but he wants to stay on the downlow while he considers his future. He’s also hoping the past he left behind doesn’t still haunt him. Fourteen years ago, he fled the city when the woman he loved dumped him.

Amelie Rivette is back in New Orleans, ready to start again. She’s helping her blind aunt run a voodoo shop in the French Quarter, but her aunt’s troubles are getting complicated. After a string of bad luck, which includes a robbery and threatening calls, Amelie finds herself trapped inside the shop when a fire is set, and she’s attacked by an assailant.

Coming to the rescue of his ex-girlfriend, Thibaut finds himself torn. The last thing he wants is to relive the pain of their breakup, but Amelie needs the kind of protection he can provide. Soon, neither of them can resist their attraction, but while they reconnect physically, he holds back his heart, not trusting that what he feels is real and not some remnant of their shared past. Complicating matters is that their families are conspiring to give him a reason to stay in New Orleans.

When Amelie is kidnapped, Thibaut realizes he’s still in love with her. Hoping he’s not too late, he sets out to save her.

Buy links: Amazon | Amazon Print | B&N | Apple | Kobo

Excerpt

He continued toward the sign that read MADAME JOSETTE’S HOUSE OF VOODOO. He stood with his hand on the doorknob, looking through the crowded shop window, past the voodoo dolls, candles, beaded necklaces, and Mardi Gras masks, through to the wooden counter painted in a glossy Chinese red with its old-fashioned apothecary shelving behind it, filled with organic mysteries. Josette wasn’t seated in her tall chair behind the counter. No one appeared to be inside the shop. Didn’t she know when she gave tarot readings in the back that someone needed to keep watch over the cash register?

But then he remembered the bell above the door, which she didn’t really need because of her uncanny knack for sensing her surroundings. The woman couldn’t see her old deck of cards but knew instinctively which she placed on her table, something that had fascinated him as a child.

He turned the knob, listened to the light tinkling of the bell, and stepped inside, inhaling the scent of whatever incense Josette had set to burn that morning.
Shuffling sounded from the stockroom beyond a beaded curtain. “Be right with you,” came a musical voice. Not Josette’s.

He swallowed hard and held his breath as a slim hand parted the curtain, and Amelie Rivette stepped out. His reaction told him that he’d been lying to himself. That she was the reason he was here. Fourteen years hadn’t blunted her effect, not according to the familiar tightening of his chest and his frozen thoughts.

The years had been kind to Amelie. Her curly hair came to her jaw rather than cascading down her back but was still a glossy, dark brown. Fine lines framed her hazel-green eyes, and her cheekbones were a little more defined, but her skin was smooth, and still that lovely dark cream that denoted her mixed heritage.

His glance touched on her mouth for only a moment, but that millisecond was just long enough to cause his blood to heat. Her lips were still full and soft-looking, and partly opened as though she was just as shocked to see him.

“Amelie,” he said, the word sandpaper-coarse because he had to force it past his tightened throat.

“Thibaut,” she said, and then her lips twitched, and she gave him a polite smile.

His back stiffened at that smile. Like he was a stranger, or worse, someone she’d hoped never to see again. A bitter taste entered his mouth because they’d parted, promising to remain “friends.”

“You’re back…” she said, a tiny frown forming between her brows.

“No,” he answered automatically, because damn if he didn’t want to disagree with even the simplest comment she might make. “I’m only here for a little while.”

“Visiting, then…” Her shoulders relaxed.

“You back?” He arched a brow then parroted, “Visiting?”

Her lips closed around a tight smile. “Actually, I moved back to help my aunt. If you stopped in to see her, you just missed her. She’s gone home already.”

He nodded. “Tell her I stopped by.”

“I will. I’ll let her know you’ll see her…another time,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

That was his cue to leave, but he hesitated to turn away. He wanted to keep looking at her. Committing everything to memory. Wiping clean the image he’d carried in his head for years of the way she’d looked before she’d turned to descend the steps of his family’s home and exited the wrought iron gate with the sun gleaming on her long hair, her cheeks pale and her eyes sparkling with tears—and her lips swelling slightly from the hard kiss he’d given her when she’d bid him goodbye.

Firming his mouth, he gave her a nod. “Good to see you, Amelie.”

Amelie stood frozen until he walked out the door. Good Lord, the man sucked the oxygen out of the room. His body seemed taller, larger than she’d remembered, and ripped. Gone was the soft handsome babyface he’d had throughout school that had made all the girls giggle and swoon. Now, his cheeks and chin were hard-edged. Even his dark stare cut like a laser. Like a caged tiger, his movements were fluid but reflected his physical power. She shivered thinking about the way he’d looked at her, his gaze flicking over her face and body, leaving a hot trail of want she fought to quell. There was no use thinking about him in any sexy way. She was the last woman on earth he’d ever want again, something he’d made abundantly clear when she’d broken up with him on the eve of leaving for Illinois.

“Illinois? What the hell, Amelie?” he’d said on that long-ago afternoon, his grip on her upper arms tightening. “I’m going to Tulane. You said you were, too.”

Yes, they’d both received offers of scholarships to Tulane. Him for football, her for math. But she hadn’t told him about the second offer. The one her father had pressured her to accept.

“You lied to me? All summer, you lied…to me?” he’d said, his dark brows furrowing in a fierce frown.

“I didn’t lie,” she’d whispered.

He gave her a little shake. “You let me talk about getting us a place near school…” His mouth curled into a snarl. “I told you I loved you. Said we’d get married.”

She panted, every word making her gasp with pain for what would never be. By his darkening expression, he’d never forgive her, never let her explain.

“I’m s-sorr—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” he spat.

She swallowed, tears beginning to fill her eyes. She’d known she was going to hurt him, but she’d left this reckoning too long. “I h-have to go.”

Thibaut had stared down at her, his nostrils flaring, his cheeks red with anger. Then he’d bent toward her and slammed his mouth down on hers. The kiss had been hard, crushing her lips against her teeth—a punishment, when she’d been accustomed to only soft, sweet kisses from the boy she’d loved. When he’d drawn back his head, he’d released her arms, and she’d stumbled back and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She’d stared for a long moment, memorizing his face, knowing they’d never be here, standing on his mother’s porch, ever again.

She’d left New Orleans and hadn’t looked back, but she’d never forgotten how she’d felt about him then. How she’d felt about herself for hurting him.

She’d been in New Orleans a month before she’d stopped worrying every time the bell tinkled that he’d walk through the door. Crazy thoughts like that had bombarded her ever since she’d returned. She’d seen him everywhere she went. Any burly, thick-shouldered man would instantly set her heart racing until she took a closer look. She’d told herself it was natural, because so many of her memories of this city were wrapped up with memories of him. Before she’d accepted that scholarship from Northwestern, they’d been inseparable, throughout middle and high school, dating as soon as her father had reluctantly approved.

It had taken years for her to get over Thibaut Cyr…

Thank you Delilah, for opening your blog to me today.

Hi, I’m Rue Allyn. I write historical and contemporary romance novels. The most recent is a complete revamp of my previously published book (20 years ago), The Catnapped Lover. This is one of my favorite stories because it combines two tropes, fish out of water and the bet between friends, along with a cat. But more about The Catnapped Lover after we talk about sunsets and retirement.

I’ve been in love with sunsets almost as long as Ive been in love with stories. These dramatic explosions of color are the HEA for the story of each day. Since I am technically retired (I don’t draw a paycheck from anyone but myself and did so for more than forty years), I gain a greater appreciation for those HEA moments in my life. When I was working—for someone else—I never had the time to appreciate these glories of nature. I want you to have the chance to see what I’ve seen from my back door since we moved to Central America. I give you nine different sunsets, all of them taken from the same place. Enjoy.

Now about The Catnapped Lover, here’s the blurb, buy links and cover. Today is release day, so this book is reaching for its own HEA. You can help it get there by either buying a copy or persuading a friend to buy one.

The Catnapped Lover

What does a bet between best friends have to do with a kidnapped cat and a tumbled-down animal shelter?  Nothing, unless you are Adam Talcott and you want to prove to your best-buddy that you can survive without access to your wealth and family connections. Adam would have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for Dierdre Clancy and that blasted cat.

Buy Links:  Amazon   B & N   Kobo   Smashwords

About Rue Allyn

Author of historical and contemporary romances, I fell in love with happily ever after the day I heard my first story. (Yes, I was a precocious little brat who read at the age of two, but I could hear much earlier than that.) I studied literature for far too many years before discovering that writing stories was much more fun than writing about them. Heck, as an author, I get to read the story before anyone else. I am happily married to my sweetheart of many, many years. Insatiably curious, an avid reader and traveler I love to hear from readers about your favorite books and real-life adventures. Crazy Cat stories are especially welcome. You can send me your words of wisdom… Don’t shake your head at me; all words are wise in one context or another. You can trust me on this; I’m an author. As I was saying, you can send your words of wisdom, humor, and friendship to me at Rue@RueAllyn.com. Can’t wait to hear from you.

Keep up with Rue Allyn by subscribingto her newsletter and get a free copy of Forever Hold My Heart when you do.

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