Thank you, Delilah for sharing your blog with me today. It is my pleasure to be with you and your readers.

October is a month usually dedicated to watching the changes in leaves, winery trips, apple and pumpkin picking, and closing with the ghosts and goblins of Halloween. It is also Domestic Violence Awareness month.

Where does that fit in today’s world of #metoo and the constant barrage of negativity, violent and crass behavior anywhere from our child’s sports games to all the way to the President? We have seen OJ Simpson, Chris Brown and most recently Rob Porter in the White House.

Civility is missing. Anger is the replacement. Our environment is ripe for abuse. A sobering statistic is 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men will experience severe intimate partner physical or sexual violence or stalking by an intimate partner.

With the #metoo movement going viral, we saw the tidal wave of support for victims. Women of all races, religions and economic backgrounds received encouragement to share their stories and when the courts allowed it, prosecute their offenders. It was often the case that an offender had multiple victims. The strength and power in numbers.

The #survivorspeaks movement created by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence is a lonely journey. Domestic violence occurs in the vacuum of a consenting adult relationship. The abuse takes place over months and years. The stigma rings like church bells. “Why doesn’t she leave?” Abused men suffer a double stigma. “Why doesn’t he leave? What a weak man that a woman could do that.”

In my many lives I was a collegiate date rape victim, an Emergency Medical Services first responder, and an advocate for victims of rape and domestic violence. I am also a wife and mother of sons and daughters. Where does the conversation start? Parents want to believe everything is going to be okay in the world they grow up in. In reality, their future is a minefield. My advice is to begin at the beginning.

Awareness. It begins early with teaching your child the names of their body parts and the understanding that some parts are private. Body secrets are never okay. No one should take pictures of your body parts. Teach them they will never be in trouble for telling a body secret. Teach them how to get out of a bad situation—scream, run, find a safe adult—police officer, firefighter, postal person, teacher and even a mom with a group of kids. The rules apply to people you know too. Importantly, there is a lot of discussion about good touches and bad touches. Sometimes an inappropriate touch will tickle or feel good. Without understanding that, every stigma is enhanced by guilt. If a child grows up with the understanding about their own body, they learn to set boundaries. Knowledge is power.

Teens have a growing need for greater understanding. Anyone can be a victim of domestic violence.

Victims of abuse do not bring it on themselves. They do not necessarily lack confidence. They are not a co-abuser. Abuse occurs when the abuser feels entitled to the power and control and uses verbal, physical or sexual abuse to get there. POWER AND CONTROL. THIS IS NEVER ABOUT LOVE.

Why stay? That’s the biggest question outsiders ask. An advocate and a provider of emergency care, I have seen many reasons. All I can understand. Love. They love the abuser. He or she wasn’t always like this. Stigma. What will people think. They want the relationship but not the abuse. A nice version of the abuser is very nice. Niceness creates a false sense of security. Isolation–abuser controls all aspects of the victim’s life. Fear to reach out to old friends. Depression. Retribution. Loss of custody. Don’t want to leave a pet. Every potential bad outcome of reporting is seen on TV, online and in the movies. They are caught in a vicious cycle with law enforcement. In some states, if an incident is called in and there is evidence of abuse, the abuser will go to jail. This occurs no matter what the victim says. The police know you didn’t fall down the stairs, walk into a door, or are so flexible that you reversed your hands to leave hand prints on your upper arms or cheeks. A police officer who arrives at the same address often, easily can become less attentive each time. They are keenly aware that one in three female and one in twenty male murder victims died from an intimate partner crime. The responders feel helpless when a victim returns over and over again. The victim is so tired, and they feel their options are few, but there is light at the end of this tragedy.

One phone call. One hand reaching out. For anonymous, confidential help available 24/7, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY) and Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center International Toll-Free (24/7) 1-866-USWOMEN (879-6636).

*~*~*

I write Romantic Suspense, often using what I know. The journey to writer took a more twisting route. A mom of four, and wife of a fellow first responder, my life was filled to the brim. In 2001, New York was victim of a heinous terrorist attack. That day, I watched my husband leave and for the first time in his law enforcement career, I thought he wouldn’t come back. My oldest son, 11 at the time lost his innocence. He realized truly what daddy did. He got off the school bus and asked will Daddy die. In 2006, a parent’s nightmare, my youngest was diagnosed with Leukemia. I’m proud he is a survivor today. In 2010, my health declined. A stent in the main coronary artery, followed by a tumor on my kidney, followed by a Lupus diagnosis and two strokes–on either side of the front of my brain left me reeling. Unable to read more than a newspaper headline, I began an arduous rehabilitation. Add mega-doses of steroids to alter dreams and play with sleep, I started to create a story. Ian Chase came to me in a wildly, wicked dream.

I’d like to introduce you to the results of that effort. Secure Desire: A Chase Group Story. The story is the opening of a series about the men and women of the Chase Group. Designed by Billionaire brothers Ian and Kieran Chase, a high octane venture capital company stakes a private security company that takes on cases where justice has been skewed. This first novel tells the story of Chase Group CEO Ian Chase, and Art Historian/FBI agent, Cassie Ellis. Six years after a first meeting, their paths cross for the second time, Ian leads his personnel to save Cassie and in turn the future of the United States. Part romance, part thriller, filled with political intrigue and modern medicine, Secure Desire is a cover to cover page-turner. Secure Again will be coming soon.

Visit me at http://www.rldunnauthor.com. Ask a question or leave a comment. Include you are from Delilah Devlin’s blog and three of you will have a chance to receive your choice of a piece of jewelry from the five (5) dollar collection at 8thaveemeralds.com (No purchase required.)

Autumn is my favorite time of year. Crisp air, bright colors, and I can wear my favorite sweaters without having an instant hot flash!

I’m a knitter so when I get my words done for the day I can be found in front of a good movie or binge watching a new series, sipping my favorite coffee or tea.

We’ve been blessed with two baristas in the Krotow family, one of which is my husband. He makes me a London Fog and I have to tell you, it’s the best non-coffee hot drink I’ve ever had. You don’t need an espresso machine or frother for this, either. A little handheld battery whip or frother is nice, but again, not necessary.

Here’s how I like my London Fog:

Steamed Milk (you can heat it in the microwave, just make sure to stir it so that you don’t get burned)
Brewed Earl Grey tea (or any other favorite tea)
Vanilla syrup (I like all natural, without corn syrup)

Pick out your favorite mug from your cupboard, which is probably way neater than mine.

Brew the tea of your choice according to instructions. Usually for black tea it’s best to steep it for 3-5 minutes.

Steam/heat the milk. If you can, froth it with a frother or whip.

Add vanilla syrup to your taste, to the hot tea. I like the bare minimum, as I enjoy the full flavor of the tea. But a lot of folks love tablespoons of the stuff. Do whatever works for you! Stir.

Top with steamed milk.

Enjoy with a great book or pair of knitting needles. Preferably both!

Thanks for having me! It’s always great to connect with Delilah Devlin readers. You all rock!

Peace,
Geri

The Pregnant Colton Witness

One night of passion with Officer Nash Maddox left Dr. Patience Colton breathless—and pregnant! The two are unexpectedly reunited when Patience becomes a witness to a murder and K-9 cop Nash rushes to her rescue, along with his canine companion. The two will stop at nothing to protect their growing family, but a killer has other ideas

THE COLTONS OF RED RIDGE Harlequin™ Romantic Suspense Continuity
Buy Links:
Amazon
https://amzn.to/2Ip32d2
Nook
https://bit.ly/2OWwsle
Apple Books
https://apple.co/2RalKZE
Google Play
https://bit.ly/2DEq8h4
Kobo
https://bit.ly/2R8B0Xh

About the Author

Geri Krotow is the bestselling author of the Silver Valley PD series for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and the Bayou Bachelors series with Kensington Lyrical Caress. A U.S. Naval Academy graduate and Intelligence Officer, Geri left her Naval career to pursue writing. Geri enjoys creating sexy contemporary romances and tingling suspense.

Geri loves to connect with readers!

Please sign up for her newsletter: https://gerikrotow.com/contact/

Find Geri on Social Media!
https://www.facebook.com/gerikrotow
https://twitter.com/GeriKrotow
https://www.pinterest.com/gerikrotow/
https://www.instagram.com/geri_krotow/

UPDATE: The winners are…Katherine Smits and Mary Preston!
*~*~*

First, thank you so much, Delilah, for hosting me on your blog. Much appreciated.

Since it’s Halloween month, I want to talk to you about ghosts and the five haunted cities you should put on your Bucket List (“Things To Do Before I Leave This Earth”).

Not long ago, I was browsing through my back list of books and came to a surprising realization—many of my books have ghosts between the pages. The translucent spirit is usually a secondary character (at least, so far – lol). I had to ask myself two questions: 1) Why do I gravitate toward writing about dead people… er, I mean those who have crossed over and, 2) Does it have anything to do with seeing them as a child? Yes, you read that right—I started seeing ghosts about the time I turned three years old.

My wonderful Mom, now 91 years young, will vouch for me. She remembers those days with excellent recall. Every night, I insisted there were little people sitting on the coving near the ceiling of our very old home. I remember being frustrated that she couldn’t see them like I could.

I still don’t know if that’s why I write about them but it’s an interesting theory, isn’t it?

Anyway, back to the haunted cities. If there’s any way you can get to these ghost-sighting places, you should really check them out. You won’t be disappointed.

1) Savannah, Georgia

It’s believed that Savannah was built on American Indian burial grounds, which goes hand-in-hand with hauntings. It was also the site of Revolutionary and Civil War battles and yellow fever outbreaks. Best-selling novel Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil boosted the city’s spookier side, putting such locales such as Bonaventure Cemetery on the national radar.

Or go the DIY route and take your pick of haunted restaurants, like The Pirate’s House or The Olde Pink House. If you’re brave enough, spend the night at a haunted hotel: Room 204 at the 1790 Inn & Restaurant is reportedly visited by a ghost named Anne. She can be heard crying after turning off the lights. The Marshall House was once used as a hospital during the Civil War and yellow fever outbreaks, and tales abound, from ghost children who bite to soldiers carrying severed limbs. Other majorly haunted sites include Moon River Brewing Company, which was the city’s first hotel in 1821, and featured in an episode of Ghost Adventures.

2) Washington, D.C.

The White House, The National Theatre and Hay-Adams Hotel are among the city’s haunted hot spots. Get the lowdown on its seedy past with Washington DC Ghost Tours, Scary DC or Washington Walks. However, The U.S. Capitol Building, which was built in the mid-1800s, is filled with specters, from construction workers to politicians (John Quincy Adams actually died there). In fact, there’s even a “demon cat” that appears right before national tragedies.

Historical hauntings also happen at The Octagon House. Dolley Madison, wife of president James Madison, lived there for a spell, and loved throwing parties; she’s sometimes seen in her party frock. Less happy occurrences in the mansion’s past include rumored murders and unexplained deaths. If you take a self-guided tour of the now museum, don’t be alarmed to feel cold spots on the staircase or hear knocking inside the walls.

3) Chicago

The Great Chicago Fire of 1871 lasted two days and killed at least 300 people. However, even worse was the 1903 fire at the much-touted fireproof Iroquois Theater, which killed more than 600 people at an afternoon performance. In fact, the alley behind it has been nicknamed “Death Alley,” after those who jumped to their death to escape the fire. It’s also where recovered bodies were temporarily placed. The Oriental Theater now resides on the spot, and people have seen ghosts in period dress, heard screams and smelled smoke.

Try your luck by booking a room at the Congress Plaza Hotel, said to be overflowing with ghosts. Room 441 is believed to be among the most haunted, with a woman that shakes the bed, shadowy figures and projectile objects. Even scarier, there’s a sealed shut room with no doorknob on the 12th floor. You probably wouldn’t want to spend the night there anyway. Weird Chicago Tours and Chicago Hauntings cover more haunted spots around the city.

4) San Francisco, CA

The lawless gold rush period and the 1906 earthquake, which triggered a fire that killed at least 3,000 people, likely contributed to San Francisco’s haunted present. However, Alcatraz Island is also notoriously haunted. Tales of death, murder and insanity surround the prison that once held mobster Al Capone. You can visit at night for the chance to experience cold spots, whispering in empty cells and sounds of slamming doors. Learn about other haunted sites, from the USS Hornet to Chinatown, with San Francisco Ghost Hunt Walking Tour, Haunted Haight Walking Tour or SF Chinatown Ghost Tours.

Although about an hour from the city, it’s worth detouring to visit the Winchester Mystery House, whose history is just as fascinating as its hauntings. Long story short, a medium advised Mrs. Winchester to never stop building a house in order to prevent ghosts from haunting her. Mrs. Winchester took this to heart, and after 38 years of endless construction, the result was 160 rooms with baffling architecture, from doors that open into walls to staircases that don’t lead anywhere. Ironically, despite her efforts, Winchester is most certainly haunted; take a candlelight tour in October and watch out for lights turning on or Mrs. Winchester herself calling your name.

5) Portland, Oregon

At one point, Portland was considered one of the most dangerous port cities in the world thanks to prostitution, gangs, opium dens and gambling rings. One of the most persistent stories from this era is about the Shanghai Tunnels, which are underground tunnels that connected hotel and bar basements to the docks. Originally intended to transport goods from the waterfront, they’re rumored to be where hired hands in the 19th century would kidnap, or “shanghai” men to work as slaves on ships bound for Asia. Victims would be dropped into the tunnel via trapdoors found in bars and imprisoned in cells until their ship set sail. Some ghost tours such as Beyond Bizarre Ghost Tour, Haunted Pub Tour, Hawthorne Ghost Tour and Shanghai Tunnels/Portland Underground Tours start at Hobo’s Restaurant, where there’s a basement entrance to the tunnels. Besides hearing screaming and crying, people report seeing Nina, a prostitute who met an untimely end at the bottom of an elevator shaft of what’s now Old Town Pizza.

Happy Ghost Hunting!

* * *

I’d like to share an excerpt from my most recent book Comes A Specter, Book 2, Ghostland Series. Several reviewers said the ghost scared the bejeebers out of them (although they loved the book).

Setup: Sutter (known as the shaman Yellow Smoke) confronts the ghost, Ten Wounds.

Excerpt:

A haze of gray mist swirled around the spirit’s form, his human form. If the situation weren’t so serious, Sutter could have shouted with joy. He took in the ghost’s visage. A quiver hung from his shoulder, stocked with sharp, pointed arrows—a sign he’d transformed into the fierce warrior who once walked the earth. Steeped in blood (no doubt from his recent kills), his clothing hung in tatters around his massive frame—a vest made of animal hides, a breechcloth and fringed leggings. Sutter’s gaze traveled to his painted, pock-marked face. Yellow and white stripes marked his forehead and chin, and black circles blended into his dark eyes. For a brief second, Sutter’s insides quivered and ropes of tension knotted every cord and fiber of his body.

Bleary, unearthly eyes speared Sutter when the wraith raised a hand of claw-like fingers and pointed at his enemy’s chest. The wind, much like the sound of a thousand women wailing, keened into the deafening silence. Fire exploded from the ghost’s eyes—flames the fires of Hell couldn’t compete with.

Sutter shouted over the infernal noise and flames. “You are not welcome here! Hear my words, you are dead!”

Like a misty cloud of energy, Ten Wounds lurched forward, a staccato rhythm of hisses and howls spewing from his foam-drooling mouth. Sutter had never imagined such a demonic apparition.

Read More On Amazon

* * *

Contest! Contest!

To qualify to win a luxurious, specialty bar of soap (from Keta’s favorite vendors) sign up for my Newsletter HERE and leave your email address in the comment section below. Two winners will be selected and the soaps mailed out several days after this post.

Thanks so much for visiting Delilah’s blog and reading about Comes A Specter, Book 2, in my Ghostland Series (Comes an Outlaw, Book 1) available HERE.

At the core, we are all animals. Our mammal DNA contains certain predispositions that cause our bodies and our brains to simply react. I’m no behavioral scientist, but I believe I’ve got some evidence to back this up. I, for one, will confess to being addicted to the sound of a rich, gravelly male moan, or the heavy rasp of a command dipped in arousal. I can literally binge on those sounds. If you’ve ever inspired these little pieces of ear candy from a guy, then I think you’ll know what I mean. Describing tasty bits of maleness in my books is an absolute must! Until, now I’ve only been able to imagine the sounds my characters make. Now that I have three titles in audio, the phenomenon is real!

Here’s a little experiment. Which of these clips get your inner kitty to purr?

Listen:

Clip 1 is narrator Curt Bonnem as Hill from Four Real. He doesn’t know what that rasp in his voice does to Tricia, until she tells him.

[From Four Real] Coming to Audio in October

The air was sweet and thick with the smell of him. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his thigh as he pushed his fingers into her hair. His scent comforted a place in her that always felt uncertain. He smelled like a cherished memory of something good she lost long ago, and she wanted to write the word “mine” across his chest so she’d never forget it.

She kissed the salty tip of his c**k and the hiss he exhaled vibrated through her body. Then, with wet lips, she caressed his engorged head.

“Fu****ck Teeee…” It was all he managed, but it was plenty. He loved her, and today she believed him.

Clip 2 is narrator Adam Riley portraying Jack in Swept. I must like the sound of a man saying the F word in the heat of passion.

[From Swept]

“Go ahead, Ror. Touch yourself. You earned it, sweetheart.”

Rory moaned from the other side of the table. Spencer couldn’t see her, could only smell her arousal mixing in the air with Jack’s scent. Jack pumped his c**k a few times and stopped. Spencer sensed a shiver run through him.

“Mmm, f*ck,” Jack whispered, clearly trying to maintain control. “Hey, baby, don’t you want something nicer than your fingers to get you off?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

Clip 3 is narrator George Orlando as Jack in Polished with that tone that snaps your head…yeah that’s the one.

[From Polished]

Jack placed his hand on Spencer’s neck, thrusting his hips forward as he did so. He grunted at him. “Look at me.”

Spencer raised his head, tearing his eyes away from the sight of both their c*cks sliding in Jack’s hand. The way Spencer’s breaths passed through his clenched teeth in short puffs made him feel like a steam engine ready to blow. His eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Jack, and Jack stared back with the same intensity. And that was what did it. He came like a bullet…

You can stream or download 6 chapters of Polished for free here!

Thanks to Delilah for having me over! If you’d like to hang, be sure to join my Facebook group The Vixen Room and sign up to my newsletter on my blog, AlyssaTurnerWrites.com

I’m also here:
Mailing List: http://alyssaturnerwrites.com/p/loading.html
Website: http://alyssaturnerwrites.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/imagine.alyssa
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alyssa-turner
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AlyssaTurner
Twitter: https://twitter.com/alyturn
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/alyturn/
Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/alyssaturner
You Tube: https://www.youtube.com/user/0alyssaturner0

Morning all! Cynthia D’Alba here. Hugs and kisses to DD to allowing me to invade her private space today. (Wow! Upon re-reading that last sentence, I realize that can be taken in a couple of different ways. Oh well. Whatever! HA)

I’ve taken A LOT of time off from writing during 2016, 2017 and 2018. Those who follow me in Facebook, you know all about my illness. Those whose do not, no biggie. That’s in the past. My point is I am finally back to writing. My brain can once again string together words. WOOT! Progress.

I have TWO (gasp) new releases coming in October. I hope you’ll enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

First up, Hot SEAL, Cold Beer – which released yesterday!

©Cynthia D’Alba 2018

Hot SEAL, Cold Beer is about a destination wedding, a blind date, and a SEAL who isn’t looking for love. Well, actually, my heroine isn’t looking either! Here’s a little more about the story…

Nicholas Falcone, aka Nikko, aka Falcon, is five months out from active SEAL duty, putting his pre-service accounting degree to use while going to law school at night. He’d love to take a vacation between semesters, but every buck is earmarked for his education. When a fellow accountant approaches him about his sister needing an escort for a destination wedding, Nikko jumps at the idea. With the wedding families footing the bill, what does he have to lose?

Surgeon Dr. Jennifer Pierce is still stinging from a broken engagement. Going to a destination wedding at the Sand Castle Resort in the Caribbean would be great if only her ex-fiancé and his new wife weren’t also attending. Her options are to find a date or not go, but not going isn’t really an option. That means letting her brother set her up with a guy from his accounting office…Heaven forbid. When did accountants start looking like this?

Amazon 📷http://bit.ly/2Of9GnZ
Barnes and Noble 📷http://bit.ly/2LT2EIO
KOBO 📷http://bit.ly/2Mm4NsK
Apple/iBooks 📷https://apple.co/2MiODQO
Add to Goodreads TBD! – http://bit.ly/2MkktMV

The second, Hot SEAL, Black Coffee, releases Oct. 23!

©Cynthia D’Alba 2018

Dealing with a sexy ex-girlfriend, a jewel heist, and a murder-for-hire can make an ex-SEAL bodyguard a tad cranky.

Trevor Mason accepts what should be a simple job…protect the jewels his ex-girlfriend will wear to a breast cancer fundraiser. As founder and owner of Eye Spy International, he should send one of his guys, but he needs to get his ex out of his system and this is the perfect opportunity to remind himself that she is a spoiled, rich debutante who dumped him with a Dear John letter during his SEAL training.

Respected breast cancer doctor Dr. Risa McCool hates being in the limelight for her personal life. Her life’s work is breast cancer treatment and research, which she’d rather be known for than for her carefree, partying debutante years. She agrees to be the chairperson for the annual breast cancer fundraiser even though it means doing publicity appearances and interviews, all while wearing the famous pink Breast Cancer Diamond for each public event. The multi-million dollar value of the pink stone requires an armed bodyguard at all times.

Past attractions flame, proving to be a distraction to the serious reality of the situation. When Risa and the millions in diamonds go missing, nothing will stop Trevor from bringing her home, with or without the jewels.

Here are the preorder links. Order both and I’ll publicly thank you on Facebook and Twitter! Seriously, I don’t usually do preorders so this makes me nervous!

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H7W28XF
Apple/iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/hot-seal-black-coffee/id1435829603?mt=11
Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1129508808?ean=2940161795552
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/hot-seal-black-coffee

Now, if you’re STILL with me, THANK YOU. (Breathes sigh of relief!)

Leave a comment here on the blog to be in the running for a prize TBD by the winner!

AND here’s all are my online homes where we can visit!

https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.dalba
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCynthiaDAlba/
https://www.amazon.com/Cynthia-DAlba/e/B0067UOSH8/
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/cynthia-d-alba

Meeting and introducing myself to new people is always a struggle. I’m not really a people person, I’m rather shy and, more days than not, I have a bad disposition. But now, as the age of 40 is not on the far horizon anymore, I can say I’m not as bad as I used to be. I can ever stretch it to enjoying meeting new people. Of course, those new people I come to meet have passed my husband’s first approval, and I’m more inclined to know them.

Still, the moment inevitably comes when they ask the question. Defining and unavoidable. And with the potential of crushing an Author’s ever-fragile self-esteem.

“What do you do for a living?”

What happens next can make or break a writer’s night (and the next few days, the time it takes to snap out of it).

To be clear, this is not a post about how an Author survives it. It’s a half-serious guide on “How to Kill an Author in 7 Questions.” The hope behind it is that nobody asks these anymore (yeah, right).

Oh, and BTW, some of the following apply to Romance Readers as well! Who’s never hidden a romance book because she/he didn’t want to get caught with it? Or lied and said she/he read only Chaucer and Hemingway?

So, here it is.

– Are you making any money?
Sure, a truckload. Artists of any kind are known for how much money they make.
Why it hurts: Because we’re not making money, man. At least, not enough to survive with it. So we have other jobs to keep us physically alive, while something inside us dies because we can’t give our art all we’ve got. Thank you for reminding me, asshat.

– Aw, that is so sweet.
Is it? Really? I think making pink cupcakes with a rainbow frosting and a glittery top is sweeter, but whatever.
Why it hurts: because there’s nothing sweet in doing it. There are blood and pain (not literally, but it just as bad) and tears. And the tone in which is usually said implies that it’s a very nice thing we like to do when we have time to spare. You know, between farting glitter and sweating honey. Because it’s so sweet.

– Nice, but what is your job?
At that, I usually retreat into A) making up a profession – don’t use this strategy if you know you have to see this person again. B) I say I’m a homemaker – don’t use this option if you have already guessed you’re talking with a stupid snob who thinks only a job outside from the house deserves recognition. C) Go with the truth, which is also why it hurts 
Why it hurts: Because it is our job. Even if it’s not what we exclusively do for an actual living, it still feels like our job. The most important one, as far as jobs go, and one worthy of being taken seriously.

– Nice, your husband must be happy.
The implication here is that because I write romance, and romance has sex in it (as life does), then I’m either an insatiable beast under the sheets, one that knows every little bit of the Kamasutra, or a famished maid (in the sense that I don’t get any, despite being married and all)

– Oh, you write Romance.
I do.
Why it hurts: Because the genre is always, and has always been, seen as a second-class genre. Never mind all the research that often goes into it (I’m looking at Historical, but also suspense and pretty much all of them). The effort. Never mind the message of empowered women and smart, good men. It’s still not literature. It’s still not serious enough.

I hope this will help some! Is any of those situations happened to you, either as a Romance Reader or Writer? How did you react?

Thank you all for reading, and I look forward to hearing your stories about it.

His Midnight Sun

Tormented, fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty. He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptance but has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and risk his heart and soul.

Summer’s managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding, breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type, though. All she has to do is ignore the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?

Love can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash devastation and revenge.

Will Aidan and Summer survive the hurricane?

5 Star Read
FREE with KU

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.

Find Viviana:
On her website | On FB | On Twitter
Amazon Author page

Hi Gang,

It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of visiting with you. First, a major thank you to Delilah for hosting me again. I owe her an even bigger thanks for taking time, nearly six years ago, to guide a new writer down the path of knowledge and skill. I stayed the course and have 16 novels, 4 novellas, and 7 short stories to show for it. Thank you for being an great mentor and friend.

My latest and (IMHO) greatest novel is WHO! Get a load of this cover.

And that’s not the best part!

It’s an homage to one of my favorite shows, Sex & The City, and my favorite genres, thrillers and romance. There is a central group of strong, successful women who are fierce friends at the heart of the story. I’ve wanted to write this novel for the last three years, but other projects kept me away from it. But lookout world! The story is written! And it’s the book I’m the most proud of out of all the others. Shhh, don’t tell them. 😉

Here’s a peek inside, Who.

*****

“Why were you on the roof the other night?” she tried.

He simply stood and watched her.

“How’d you get up there?”

“You said a lock wouldn’t stop me.”

“Fine. Fine. You won’t come in. You won’t let me dry your clothes. You won’t answer my questions.” Larkin yanked off her coat, glad for the working thermostat. At least he wouldn’t freeze for as long as she could keep him inside. She sidestepped him and hooked her coat on the rack. If she was going to get this out, she couldn’t look at him. The sight of him all big and fucking sexy as hell muddled her brain. Her feet carried her from one side of the foyer to the other.

“That night on the roof … I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

When he didn’t protest, she looked at him. His gaze followed her, calculating her again and again like a high-functioning computer. Reading and reading and not asking a single question.

“I know it looked that way. I know, now, why you acted the way you did, but it scared me. No one is ever up on the roof. It’s my place to get away from … everything. I hadn’t been up there in a while. Too long. Things were pressing in on me. Work. My …” Why was she blabbing so much to him? He didn’t give a shit. He was probably worried about where his next meal would come from. What did he care about her problems? Which really weren’t problems at all in the grand scheme of the world. People lived not knowing where their next meal was coming from. People lived without proper clothing. Without proper shelter.

Beckett didn’t look homeless. He wasn’t malnourished in any way. His clothes were used but clean and well maintained. The scruff on his face wasn’t more than three days growth.

“Your … boyfriend?”

She stopped pacing and found his gaze. “I don’t have those. They’re … messy.”

“Husband?”

Her face crinkled. “Even worse.”

“Finally, someone who understands.”

“So many people don’t.” She nodded and walked, studying the intricacies of the woodwork and the fibers of the entry’s rug.

“They’re needy.”

“And you don’t need much, do you?” She stole a quick glance at him. His head shook.

“So who was it that night?”

Her gaze dropped to the ring on her finger. “My family.”

His fingers came into view. They grazed the thick band and large stone.

“It was my mother’s.” She hated the words as soon as they were out.

“Why are you mad at a dead woman?”

Her gaze flashed to his. He stood over her, eyes warmer than before. She hadn’t said a word about the rage that boiled inside her bones for her mother, but he was smart. Smart enough to add her action that night and her words tonight and ask the one question she wouldn’t answer.

Larkin’s head shook, jarring loose the tear she’d been fighting back.

“Seems we both have our boundaries.” His thumb wiped the tear from her cheek, dragged it down her face, and smoothed it over her lips. They parted for him. He took his time tracing the high arch. The salt from his fingertip bled into her mouth as the pad dragged over her lower lip and pulled it wide. “Unlock the door and tell me to leave.”

“No.” Her tongue slid along the path with his finger. “You ran away from me Saturday. I’m not going to let you do that tonight.”

“It’s what I should do.” His thumb left her lip and joined the rest of his fingers at the side of her neck. He tilted her face up. “Tell me to stop.” His face, scarred and angry, neared hers, open and intent.

Not a sound passed through her lips. She grabbed his jacket, only inches from his hand, and tugged. His hold broke. The cold exterior chilled her fingertips. The weight of it forced her muscles into action but not for long. She dropped the thing on the ground behind her, toward the wall and away from the door. Her gaze never left his. His gave nothing away.

He was too tall for her to lift up onto her tiptoes and press her lips to his, and he didn’t move from his battle-ready posture. She could climb him like a tree, but if this was going to work, he would have to give … just a little.

Toe to toe, she studied him as blatantly as he did her. A healthy pulse swelled the veins of his thick neck. His gaze narrowed and cooled as though begging her to lose interest. Not a chance. Every inch of him intrigued her. Even the ugly scar that hid in the shadow of the foyer. She reached up slowly. His head shifted higher into the stratosphere of her entryway.

“Don’t tell me a big guy like you is scared.”

His jaw worked back and forth. “Cautious.”

“I won’t hurt you. Don’t think I could if I tried, but I won’t.”

His head lowered.

Larkin grabbed his chin. It barely fit in her hand. The short hairs pricked her fingers. She turned his face to the left and held her breath. Webbed and raised skin slightly darker than the rest of his face gleamed with a waxy smooth finish in the lamplight. Its dips and rises spread wide from a point just below his eye to encompass the hinge of his jaw and a two-inch swath of his cheek. It was fully healed but not an old scar. Her fingers slid up the side of his face. She mapped the ridges of scarred and unmarred skin alike.

He moved under her touch, not visibly, but energy hummed under her fingertips. She dragged her touch down over his scar, his neck, and gripped the collar of his shirt with both hands. Cool water seeped from the fabric, running through her fingers.

Hunger flashed in his eyes.

She pulled his face down. Her heart beat against her chest, urging her to take his mouth, but determination made her wait. He had to give. Saliva pooled. Her breasts ached. Oxygen, so skittish before, heaved in and out of her lungs as though she was chasing him down the street again. If he broke down her door and ran away, she’d chase him again. This wasn’t like her. She took what she wanted. Men gave it freely. But this man just looked at her.

*****

Who is a 410-page beast of a first-in-series novel released October 2nd. It’s regular $6.99, but is on sale for the next two weeks for $4.99!

Amazon
US: https://amzn.to/2DuzlIw
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07HDDTNVB
CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07HDDTNVB

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/who/id1434316342
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/who-19
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Megan_Mitcham_Who?id=1dRqDwAAQBAJ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41540582-who
Author Website: http://www.meganmitcham.com/index.html

*****

Down to business. What is the thing in life you are most proud of? Answer the question in the comments below for a chance to win a signed copy of Never Mine.

All the best,
Megan
—
Megan Mitcham
USA Today Bestselling Author
Sizzling Suspense – Are you sizzling yet?
www.meganmitcham.com