At first glance, you would think this is an easy question to answer, but in reality, it is multi-faceted in many ways.

First of all, especially in the Romance industry, not only are we writers, but we are also readers.  So as readers, we tend to be more empathic when it comes to our own readers.  Maybe it is a little do unto others as we would have them do unto us mixed in there.

But for me, I never realized how much of an impact the writer/reader’s relationship was until I became a writer myself.  The interaction between writer and reader is like no other, because we are one and the same.

For the indie author, this relationship is even more important, because as an indie author, you don’t have a big publishing company or public relations firm out there doing all your advertising; we have ourselves and our readers.

I remember when I first retired from the Army last year, deciding that once I was out I would finally finish the novel I had started back in 2010, and I would send to a big time publisher, and be published by them.

As I researched profusely on various BIG Publishers, I soon found out, that even though I could have had great support, I possibly could never be in control of what I wrote or how I wrote it, was not my cup of tea.   So this for me was a BIG NO, after 23 years of having every part of my life controlled, there was no way I wanted to go that route of BIG Publisher, at least not at first.

I sat down at my laptop and began to finish my novel, I had started in 2010 and titled it “Warranted Pleasures”.  When I finished, I was so proud of the work I had accomplished, but I still had NO idea what or where to go next.

So on to more research and many “How to” books read, it wasn’t until literally weeks ago that I truly figured out what and where to go, to get my novel out to the masses.  I published “Warranted Pleasures” in December 2015, and although I used some social media, and made contacts with other authors and readers; I just wasn’t doing enough in my opinion.  So one day, I posted on Facebook what I felt on the inside, it would be my last ditch effort to get the word out, and gain more readers.  I don’t remember the exact wording, but in essence it was a scream for help.  I think it read pretty much like this, “HELP”…….. ha ha

It was that post that caught the attention of a woman I had recently just added as a friend, on Facebook from another authors Facebook page.  I had corresponded with her via comments and she seemed nice, so I clicked add as a friend. What was it going to hurt? But it was that add that changed everything.  She offered to help, she added me to some groups and put me in contact with another woman, who was also a big reader, and part of many readers, and author groups on Facebook.  I hired her as my assistant and she went right to work finding signings around the country, and Facebook author takeovers with bloggers and reviewers.

I was finally getting the word out, enjoying my time taking over different groups, and events on Facebook.  Things were finally starting to work out and go the way I had envisioned them.

It has been so much fun and so exhausting at the same time, but it is the readers that make our job as a writer so much fun. It’s the readers that gets the word out and it’s the readers we get to interact with.  It’s the readers that are important, being able to finally connect with more and more of them has made me realized how amazingly blessed and honored I am to be able to bring my stories to them, and be a romance author.

I am having such a great time, being able to interact with readers, as a reader myself, I have Fangirl moments too.  Like when I am doing a takeover, and I find myself doing one with a couple of USA Today and New York Times best-selling Authors, I seriously Fangirl.

It’s amazing to me as a writer, how close we are able to become with our readers, especially in the Romance Genre.  I think it has a lot to do with the fact that we are readers too; we have our Fangirl moments and that makes this job so much fun.   We have signings, Facebook events, conferences, and of course the Romance Writers of America national conference.

I mean come on, you can’t get this close to Gerard Butler on the Red Carpet or on a movie set. By the way, if you decide to follow me, friend me or meet me, you will find I am convinced he and I were married in past lives.  Ha ha.

We, as writers, are readers first and writers second.  We are the readers and as the readers, don’t we always spread the word about our favorite author or a new book we just read?  What a blessing and an honor it is for me to be able to say I am a Romance Novelist, and that we have the best readers and fellow authors in this industry.

We are approachable, because we ourselves, are the FANS and we are the readers. Don’t we all love a HEA?   That’s what we get when we pick up a romance novel, well most anyway, some are HEA for now stories, and that’s ok too.

We all love a great HEA story, from the time we were little kids until the day we die, because HEA show us all that there is always a Once upon a Time.

So for me, our readers are IMPORTANT, because WE are them and WE are a FAMILY, and as a FAMILY we help each other. And I believe, that is what I found.

So a big thank you, to all of you who have read, will read and who won’t because no matter what, we are FAMILY, the Romance FAMILY.

About Shannon

Shannon grew up in a small town called Macomb, IL. A university town nestled in the heart of Central Illinois. Corn fields and soy beans surround the town and her Friday nights consisted of reading and television. Surprising her entire family, she joined the US Army in 1987 with an MOS of Unit Supply Specialist.  The 4-year stint lead to a retirement in April 2015.  She began writing in 2010 as a way to help deal with some of the stress and pressures of daily Army life. It was her best friend who pushed her to pursue writing as a career.   “Writing is my release, I love telling a story and I learned to always write about what I know.”  Since she has served half her life in the US Army, her stories surround the lives of soldiers. She love’s Sci-fi and fantasy and has thought about exploring it some for future works.  She is a mother of four and a grandmother of 1 with another granddaughter on the way in Dec 2016, she has been married for 22 years.

Find Shannon:
www.shannonnemechek.com
www.facebook.com/srnemechek

www.goodreads.com/shannonnemechek
Twitter @srnemoauthor

Warranted Pleasures Book 1 (A Warranted Series)

Sergeant Samantha O’Hara had no idea that when she was assigned to the 1266th Transportation Company, that she would meet sexy and flirty Chief Warrant Officer Raleigh Fitzgerald. But when their eyes met, sparks flew as well as the bullets.

It was against Army Regulations they knew that, but it was an undeniable attraction. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold out, he had a way of getting under her skin.

Raleigh was used to getting what he wanted and right now little Miss Sam, is on the top of his list

Meet Sergeant Samantha O’Hara- She’s young, beautiful, extremely driven, and very much single. Her love life, completely non-existent.

Meet Chief Warrant Officer Raleigh Fitzgerald- He’s young, flirtatious, and quite frankly sinfully delicious. Oh and yes, he’s very much single.

Welcome to Samantha and Raleigh’s world.

A world where seduction, dirty talk, and let’s say yumminess comes into play.
A world where no one can be trusted, where secrets are unraveled.
A world of internal conflicts and fears.
A world of hurt and pain where scars run so deep it’s hard to catch your breath.

This is their story……. Available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01795R1IW

Warranted Desires Book 2 (A Warranted Series) Releases Dec 2016

Hi Delilah Fans!

Finally some fall weather! Love these nights when I can sleep with the windows open.

Thank you to those who commented on my September post about falling in love with a gay man. Apparently I’m not the only one who has gone through this. Back when this happened to me, homosexuality wasn’t an open topic. Young people had many reasons not to face the truth about their sexuality.

At that time, men who didn’t realize they were gay tried to be ‘normal’ by dating girls and even falling in love with girls. That’s what happened to me. Today, thankfully, being gay isn’t as terribly stigmatized as it was in the past. Gay men and women are more likely to think about their sexuality early on and come to terms with their true inclinations. Thus many fewer women are left with the fallout that comes from a first love who turned out to be gay.

For myself, as I said in my September post, the four-year love affair I had as a teen led to permanent issues in my self-esteem. What I learned then can’t be fully unlearned, that I wasn’t enough of a woman to drive his passion, that if I had been more flirty, more buxom, he would have wanted me more. I fully understand that nothing I did actually had anything to do with his final realization that he was gay. That doesn’t undo four years of thinking something was wrong with me.

No doubt the experience for him was even more traumatic.

So thanks for listening and sharing your thoughts with me.

And now for something entirely more entertaining! Here’s an excerpt from a new short story, “The Lawn Guy.” This work was inspired by a new anthology Delilah is working on about blue collar men. Are these guys too sexy for their shirts or what?!

Lizzie Ashworth’s “The Lawn Guy”

I stand at the window, dodging out of sight when the mower loops at the far end and starts heading back toward the house. It’s pure self-indulgence, watching him with the wind blowing his hair, his sweaty back gleaming in the sun. His back muscles do amazing things when he leans.

Why I’m torturing myself, I don’t know. I’m helpless here, a hundred other things I could be doing, and I can’t do any of them. I want him on top of me.

Is this pathetic or what?

I have the best mowed lawn in the neighborhood. Best trimmed bushes, best raked leaves, best mulched flowerbeds. I owe it all to Justin Younger, damn him.

Damn his amber eyes and crooked smile and a roughhewn face that belongs in the movies. Damn his enthusiasm about random things like the broken limb on the old elm, the turtle stuck under the back fence. I tell myself that’s why I hire him.

It’s a lie. I hire him because I’m infatuated. I’m slack jawed at the window watching him park the mower and stride across the yard with a rake. If I’m not careful, I’ll be wiping drool off my chin. How do men become so beautiful?

There’s one thing about becoming widowed. You get a paid-for house and supportive friends and time to relax.  If you’re lucky, you get left with enough money to hire your yardwork done. All that’s supposed to help make up for losing the man you meant to spend your life with, the man who’s gone. I’m so lucky.

I feel something stirring in me, something dangerous. When I watch Justin, I feel like I might explode. Everything is fucked up.

I’ve dusted every shelf, rearranged the contents of every cabinet. I can tell you exactly what part of which drawer you’ll find the tape. I tidy up whether I need to or not. It’s what I do, dusting, organizing, making sure every single thing in this house is in perfect order.

I know the clinical stuff. I’m seeking control. Control over things that happen for no reason and destroy lives. I find myself standing in places for long periods of time, like I’m waiting on something. Like David’s going to come walking through that door all smiles and I’ll fly into his arms. My hands will grab those lean muscles that curve down his back, and never let go. My hands still feel him.

I’m waiting for my life to come back. But all I can do is manage minutia and stare out the window at the one man who interests me. It feels wrong, like I’m being unfaithful to David. It doesn’t help to remember that David is never coming back.

I think this guy interests me because I can see his bare chest, his wide shoulders, his energetic response to the world. Men do that, respond energetically to the world. As if with their own hands they could move mountains and battle lions. It’s what I loved about David. It’s what got him killed.

~~~

Last night I dreamt about Justin. He was over me. I can’t get it out of my mind.

He smelled like sunshine and cut grass. His skin smoothed under my fingertips. He was gentle, slow. I woke up wet between my legs.

That’s just fucking great.

~~~

“Thought you might need a drink,” I say. I hand Justin a tall glass of iced tea with condensation running down its sides. My heart is beating in my throat standing near him.

He squints up at the sun, takes the towel from his waistband, and wipes his face and neck. I watch his shoulder flex. His chest gleams. I watch his throat move as he drinks. He slides the cold wet glass across his chest.

I’m desperate to touch him. This is sick. How did my life get so out of control?

“Thanks, Ms. B.” He sizes me up. “Did you want me to deal with that broken limb today?”

I look up at the old elm. A big limb broke in a mid-summer storm and it’s been up there dangling. “I’m worried about you climbing up there. Maybe I should hire a tree service.”

He laughs. When he laughs, lines crease his cheeks. I thought he was late twenties, but maybe he’s a bit older, maybe mid-thirties like me. He gives me this look of authority.

“Five minutes.”

I watch him climb the tree. I’m helpless down here wringing my hands. Does my homeowner’s policy include liability?

Hell, I’m old before my time. Everything terrifies me. The chainsaw whines and sawdust drifts down and I can’t watch.

Five minutes and the chainsaw comes down on its rope and then the limb is coming down on its rope and then Justin climbs down. He slides down the last few feet and lands right in front of me. Plants his boots hard on the ground. Breathing hard. Sweating. Grinning at his success.

He leans toward me. I think he’s off balance and grab his arm. He looks at me and I jerk my hand away.

“I told you,” he says. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I worried anyway.”

“If I can’t do something, I’ll tell you. Trust me.”

Is he saying more than he’s saying? I want to read between the lines. He tugs off his leather gloves, stuffs them in his rear pocket, and touches my cheek. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

“You worry too much,” he says, peering down at me with an expression of…I don’t know. “You have sawdust on your face.”

Read the rest of this story.
Only 99¢ at Smashwords.

About the Author

Lizzie Ashworth has been through career, marriage, kids, and even ran her own cafe, but writing has always been her secret love. She has authored eight novels and several short stories which explore the intimate nuances of human relationships. She likes to show a process in her stories where discovery or acknowledgment of sexual pleasure or desire is key to character development. Hidden away on a remote woodland hilltop in the Arkansas Ozarks, she accepts advice from her hound dog Weezie and her cat Esmeralda. When she’s not slamming words, she enjoys cooking, gardening, and the Pacific coast. Sunrise and sunset provide her favorite moments, the magical twilight between two worlds when anything seems possible.

I just came back from a book signing in Valley Forge, and, as usual, the hit of my table wasn’t my books or my writing, it was my patches.

I’m not sure how I got started buying them, but I’ve done it so many times, Amazon keeps showing me new ones I cannot live without. I use them to award to people who buy multiple books from me at an event, or sometimes just to award to an avid fan who stops by to say hi and already has all my books. Or just because I feel like being generous.
It creates quite a buzz at the table and we do attract attention.

Tonight at Kym Grosso’s launch party, I even gave away some Sugar Skull duct tape and stickers, in keeping with the theme.

Sometimes our guys and gals overseas can wear some of them. Most the ones I buy, like the ones I show here, not so much. Lots of my friends ride motorcycles and have them all over their jackets. I just like looking at them, and probably will make a nice display of them, right next to the police, firefighters and paramedic patches I’ve been collecting over the years. And why not.

We ladies (and gents) like to have fun, right? What’s life without a little kinky humor now and then. Sort of goes along with my Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3 navy blue condoms and my pink Stimulus Package ones.

Sharon’s new release, Love Me Tender, Love You Hard is in the brand new launch St. Helena Kindle Worlds, based on the small wine country town of St. Helena. Autumn In The Vineyards, Marina Adair’s book that is the basis for this World, is airing as a Hallmark Movie on Saturday October 8 at 9 PM on the Hallmark Channel. Enjoy!

Sharon Hamilton
http://amzn.to/2cM1lss
http://www.authorsharonhamilton.com
Goodreadsà http://bit.ly/2doKUEU
Join my group: http://bit.ly/2czpjUB

Do they still make Love’s Fresh Lemon? Because sometimes I think I get a whiff of it—and bam, I’m back in my pale blue Dittos, the hot sun on my head, and a tube of strawberry Lip Smackers in my hand. Scents are like that, though. They take you back to a vivid moment in time.

Music, for me, is even more evocative than smell. A simple melody has the power to alter my mood—engraving its memory on me so that every time I hear it I return to that emotional place. I love that—the power of a song.

I first felt the impact when I was ten years old. The movie Friends by Lewis Gilbert came out, and the moment Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s title track came on, I got slammed. That soundtrack unearthed all the nascent feelings of yearning and want, the fierce craving for romantic connection I couldn’t even begin to understand at that age. And the funny thing is I don’t remember the movie at all. I don’t remember the actors or the story. It’s the music that stayed with me.

Music informs every book I write. No matter how well I map out the plot and character arcs, I can’t catch my groove until I figure out the tone of the story. And it’s almost always music that reveals it to me.

Years ago, I was several revisions into a book I couldn’t quite feel. I had all the details worked out, as I always do, but I was only skimming the surface—couldn’t quite pierce the skin and get inside the story. Until I heard the soundtrack for Elizabethtown by Cameron Crowe.  60B (Etown theme) plunged me into the reflective and nostalgic mood of my story world.

I’m not a fan of pop music, but A Thousand Years captured the tone for my new release YOU REALLY GOT ME. Sure, Christina Perri wrote it about Twilight. And, no, you won’t find vampires in my contemporary romance books—although, hey, vampire rockers? That could totally be a thing. But it wasn’t the lyrics that fit my book; it was the tune itself. The yearning, the want, the passion. Even now, two years later, hearing that song whisks me right back into the world of that book, with Slater and Emmie and the guys. Which, you know, isn’t a bad place to be.

While I always have music playing when I write, I can’t listen to anything with lyrics. First, I can’t stop myself from singing along with it. But, also, lyrics tell stories, and I’m a reader. I have to pull up a chair and listen.

I envy the way lyricists can tell a story in a few stanzas, deliver an emotional punch in a line or two. The song You Love Me by Kimya Dawson does exactly that. Personally, though, I seem to need more elbow room—like a whole stadium to accommodate my one hundred thousand words—to tell my own stories. Hey, it’s an emotional journey—it takes time to make it authentic!

So, basically, for as much as I love music, I’m locked out of the process of making it. I can’t sing, I can’t play an instrument, and I can’t write lyrics. But the artists who can? They rock. I wish I could do it.

If I could, I would’ve written these three songs that pack the emotional wallop of the best romantic fiction. Tell Her This by Del Amitri is filled with regret and longing. It’s about a man who can’t get past his own demons (STAND BACK—romance writer coming through—I can fix him!). And You Just Forgot by Mindy Smith kills me every time I hear it. This girl is hanging onto a love long past its end date. I can totally fix her problem! Just give me a hundred thousand words and access to the man she loves. And then Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. Is this guy not the classic bad boy hero? Do NOT make me fall in love with you because you are going to tear my heart out…just like my mother who left me/ex who cheated on me/babysitter who abused me. I got this—just let me at him!

Now, of course music isn’t just about connecting with deep emotion and creating a compelling mood. It moves me in other ways. Ways that make me get up and shake my booty. Can you sit still when Jump Around by House of Pain is playing? Yeah, didn’t think so. How about Insane in the Brain by Cypress Hill?

And sometimes songs serve no other purpose than to turn your frown upside down. Like Be Okay by Oh Honey. I won’t believe you if you say your heart didn’t soar just a teeny bit with that one. And Thunder Clatter by Wild Cub. You’re smiling right now, right?

I can’t carry a tune, and I can’t play an instrument, but music has had a profound impact on my life and my work. I’ll bet you feel the same way.

What songs move you? Do any in particular stick with you, reminding you of an important time in your life?

From the award-winning author of the Rock Star Romance books comes a sizzling new series about the O’Donnell siblings. The pull of wild love is irresistible.

She’s had enough drama in her life.

Nicole O’Donnell is more than ready for the fresh start college offers. After a lifetime of trying to help her alcoholic mom and ex-boyfriend get sober, she’s finally learned her lesson: people don’t change. They certainly don’t change for her.

He can never leave his drama behind.

Thanks to his mom’s substance abuse issues, Dylan McCaffrey’s persona non grata in his hometown of Gun Powder, Colorado. So when he scores a free ride to the top university in the country, he’s determined to make something of this fresh start. But his mom has always relied on him, and she’s not handling his absence well at all. If he can just keep up his grades, pay her bills, and come home every break, he might be able to pull off this opportunity.

True love won’t be denied.

No matter how determined they are to steer clear of each other, their combustible connection explodes, especially when Nicole offers Dylan the one thing he can’t bear—hope. Once he has a taste of it—and the irresistible force of her—there’s no going back.

But when he falls too deeply, when he loses sight of his priorities, he might just lose it all.

You can get MINE FOR NOW here: http://amzn.to/2cIopY6. 10% of pretax income for all Erika Kelly books goes to the Semper Fi Fund. It provides immediate financial assistance and lifetime support for wounded, critically ill and injured members of the U.S. Armed Forces and their families, directing urgently needed resources to post-9/11 service members. I hope you’ll check them out: https://semperfifund.org/

Social media contact information:
http://www.erikakellybooks.com/
https://twitter.com/ErikaKellyBooks
https://www.facebook.com/erikakellybooks/
https://www.instagram.com/erikakellyauthor/

When I was a kid, my favorite stuffed animal was a lion. As a pre-teen, my favorite YAGA t-shirt (dating myself *ehem*) had a lion on it. One of the first chapter books I read was Born Free, the big cats are the first thing I visit at any zoo, and when my daughter was ready for her big girl bed, guess who found an antique iron bed with lion heads? That’s right, this girl.

I, Sukie Chapin, am a crazy cat lady. Maybe not what you imagine when you hear the term, but it fit, nonetheless.

Oh, yes, I have a domesticated fur baby, too. Her name is Posie, and she’s a wonderful pain in my butt and the best writing buddy a girl could ask for. But my first love is the big cats, the exotics, the lions and tigers and cheetahs, oh my!

The term crazy cat lady carries a certain connotation. Single lady, maybe getting up there in age, perpetually in pajamas, curlers in her hair, surrounded by a myriad of cats and not much else. Sometimes I think it’s used to hurt. And I’m not okay with that. I say be proud of what you love, whether that’s cats, coffee, or good books. Wear it as a badge of honor.

So when a group of writers began toying with the idea of a Crazy Cat Lady series, playing on the stereotype and showing just how incorrect it is, I pounced at the opportunity. Right up my alley, folks. But part of me wondered if we could do it justice. Would we fall back on the outdated and inaccurate depictions of feline aficionados?

But I’m so proud to say that we didn’t. Most of the authors who contributed to the Crazy Cat Lady Anthology are crazy cat ladies themselves. And you know what? We’re all as different as our stories are from one another. And our heroes and heroines reflect that. We have kickass, strong heroines who know what they want in life. Each loves their life with their cats, but the cats aren’t the only love in their life.

When I say that there’s something for everyone in the Crazy Cat Lady Anthology, I mean it. From sweet to steamy, big cats to small, suspenseful to laugh-out-loud funny, even a shifter or two. Whatever tickles your fancy, we’ve got a taste of it.

And the best part? You can get it in your hot little hands on Tuesday, October 11^th. Just around the corner, y’all.

And the even better bestest, best part? We had so much fun writing our stories and putting them together that we decided to make a freebie as well. Wooing the Cat Lady in Your Life is your one-stop-shop for dating rules and tips for cat ladies. It’s pretty awesomely hilarious, if I do say so myself. So follow this little linky, and get your copy today. For FREE!

Freebie Link – Wooing the Cat Lady in Your Life: https://www.instafreebie.com/free/5I7pI

The Crazy Cat Lady boxed set lets 9 new purr-fectly wild romance stories out of the bag. We hope you enjoy these paw-some tails from New York Times, USA Today, & other authors.

Amazon US – http://bit.ly/CCLAmzUS
Amazon AU – http://bit.ly/CCLAmzAU
Amazon CA – http://bit.ly/CCLAmzCA
Amazon UK – http://bit.ly/CCLAmzUK
iBooks – http://bit.ly/CCLiBooks
Nook – http://bit.ly/CCLNook
Kobo – http://bit.ly/CCLKobo
Goodreads – http://bit.ly/CCLGoodreads

Okay, guilty pleasure admission coming in three…two…one: I completely love hearing about other people’s fur babies, so leave me a comment and tell me about yours! The quirkier, the better! 😉

I can’t start things off without thanking Delilah for this opportunity. For a debut author, getting to guest blog on a well-known, established author’s blog is a BIG deal. So, HUGE thank you!

I’m a little nervous, to be honest. I spent more than a few days trying to come up with something to blog about. I finally asked another author what I should talk about and she said share what people are saying about your book. Well, you can go read the reviews for yourself, so I won’t rehash that, but one of the things that keeps coming up in reviews is the relationship between my heroine Bree and her best friend Denise. So I’m going let you in on some of the inspiration that drove Bree and Denise.

Bree and Denise met in Iraq while deployed…just like me and my best friend — we’ll call her Sue (no, that’s not close to her name). Sue is badass. Seriously. If Special Forces had been open to women when she was younger, she’d have kicked all their asses. There is a lot of Sue in Denise. We were trailer mates for more than six months. We saw each other at our best and our worst and we came out the other side stronger for it.

She is my heterosexual life mate (kudos if you get the Jay and Silent Bob reference). We’ve already planned it out — when I retire, I’m going to build a house on part of her five acres and we’re going to raise our kids village style.

Bree and Denise’s friendship is as important to the story in Stitched Up Heart as the relationship between Bree and the hero, Jase. So with that, here’s one of my favorite scenes between Bree and Denise:

“Uh huh. You’ve got it bad, sister. I’ve never seen you like this. Not even when we got tasked to that SEAL team for two months in Jalabad.”

Bree stared off into space. “Mmm…that was good times.”

“My point is you’re completely distracted by Jase.”

“I know.” Bree folded her arms on the stall door and rested her chin on them. “He’s only been gone a few days. It’s ridiculous. I feel ridiculous and I don’t know what to do. I’m being all… what’s the word for it?”

“Girly.”

“Girly!” Bree snapped her fingers and pointed at Denise like she had just solved the world’s energy crisis. “How do I quit being all girly and emotional?”

“Don’t look at me. I haven’t done girly since I went through puberty. I’m void of emotions.”

“You do emotions,” Bree said.

Denise lifted the latch on the half door and entered the stall. The dog’s tail thumped on the ground as Denise knelt next to her head. “I do some emotions, none of which are girly emotions. My emotions usually involve fireballs and razing insurgent strongholds to the ground.” Denise pat the dog on the head and checked the water and food bowls.

Bree quirked her mouth. “Valid point. Either way, I need to figure out how to quit doing them.”

“Why?” Denise asked.

“Why?” She opened the door for Denise. “Because I don’t want to be girly. I don’t want to moon over some guy and lose who I am in the process.”

“Who says you have to lose yourself?” She swung the door closed and checked the latch. “Why can’t you figure out a way to be who you are and still fall in love with Jase?”

“Um, first, no one said anything about being in love.”

Denise gave her that look again.

“Fuck.” Bree drew the word out as she groaned. She hated it when Denise called her on her bullshit. It was easy to avoid the truth without her around. “I can’t. It’s way too soon.”

“Not according to Gran it’s not,” Denise pointed out.

“Okay, Gran lived a fairy tale. We know that’s not how life really works.”

“Says whom?”

“Says everyone except Gran. Hell, even Elsa said you can’t fall in love with someone you just met.”

“You’re referencing animated characters again.”

“Hello? Fairy tale?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Whatever. You love my face.”

“At the moment, I want to high-five your face,” Denise told her.

*~*~*

I hope you read Stitched Up Heart and at some point call your best friend and say, “Listen to this, it’s so us!”

Thank you for having me!

Tarina

Stitched Up Heart

As an Air Force medic, Bree Marks saw the worst the War on Terror had to dish out. Now a physical therapist, she uses her experience to help other veterans heal from their physical wounds; while she battles her own emotional damage.

Blaming himself for his best friend’s suicide, former Army Ranger Jase Larken, retreated from life. To honor his best friend’s memory and assuage his guilt, he started an outdoor adventure company to help veterans with PTSD.

Bree had better things to do than catch her cheating fiance in bed with another woman. Jase is something better – for a night at least. For the first time in years, Jase wanted more. When he finds her again, he doesn’t give her another chance to run.

Jase’s protectiveness grates on Bree’s independent nature. She’s dealt with her fair share of alpha-male, door kickers and doesn’t need one telling her what to do now. But as a new danger emerges, Bree and Jase must face their pasts, before someone’s obsession with Bree destroys any chance they have of a future.

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Oh, the dark Jean-Louis and the blond Nik.

Both of the leaders of the Kandesky Vampire family are delicious and dishy, but after finishing the ninth book in the saga, SNAP: I, Vampire, I had to take a hiatus to wear my other hat…murder mysteries.

As much as I love the international scope, the incredible wealth and the beyond-sexy vampires in the Kandesky Chronicles, I also love the puzzles and suspense of the world of mystery.

I write the Amy Hobbes Newspaper Mysteries, a series about a small-town newspaper editor who works to understand the “why” behind dead bodies popping up.  This took me—and almost 2,000 others—to New Orleans last week for the granddaddy of all mystery conventions, Bouchercon.

But New Orleans, the home of voodoo, vampires and other undeads. What a draw!

As much as I wanted to sit in cemeteries, search for love potions, spend the night in haunted houses, I was good and focused on mysteries. And was rewarded.

Lee Child, Harlan Coben, Walter Mosley, Alexandra Sokoloff, David Morrell (of Rambo fame), Michael Connelly, C.J. Box, Caro Ramsey, Catriona McPherson, Charlaine Harris. On panels, meeting in the elevators, sitting next to them at dinner. And I can get fan-girl with the best of them.

Lee Child

Whether you’re a writer, wanna-be writer or fan, conventions are a shot of adrenaline. Every fiction genre has them. Sci-fi and fantasy, romance, LGBTQ, thrillers. Throughout the year, fans and authors of these books get together, swap ideas, tell stories, sign books and talk to fans. You’ll come away exhausted but the high will last for days. Pictures of you and your favorite authors, autographed books, programs and announcements, t-shirts, buttons, book bags and books…lots of books.

Unlike other industry get-togethers (the Oscars, Cannes, Grammies), book conventions are places where the authors and the fans come together to celebrate stories, ideas and talk about the written word.

Your feet will hurt, your back will be sore from lugging around a ton of books, but you’ll come away with memories that last…until next year!

I recommend them.

About the Author

Michele Drier was born in Santa Cruz and is a fifth generation Californian. Her Amy Hobbes Newspaper Mysteries are Edited for Death, (called “Riveting and much recommended” by the Midwest Book Review), Labeled for Death and Delta for Death.

Her paranormal romance series, SNAP: The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles, was the best paranormal vampire series of 2014 from Paranormal Romance Guild. The series is SNAP: The World Unfolds, SNAP: New Talent, Plague: A Love Story, Danube: A Tale of Murder, SNAP: Love for Blood, SNAP: Happily Ever After?, SNAP: White Nights,  SNAP: All That Jazz, SNAP: I, Vampire .

Visit her webpage, www.MicheleDrier.com facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/AuthorMicheleDrier or her Amazon author page, http://www.amazon.com/Michele-Drier/e/B005D2YC8G/

EXCERPT

From SNAP: I, Vampire, Book Nine of the Kandesky Vampire Chronicles

CHAPTER ONE

Sandor, the chief demon and our sometimes butler, hit a button on the remote and the interlocking metal shutters slid smoothly down.

I started to say, “Wait…” then remembered.

Jean-Louis and I had been lazing in the big bed, the centerpiece of the room, and watching the faintest pink wash across the top of an Alp. Lolling to watch the sunrise had been a part of my life with this man, signaling the end of our time together until night came again. Now the present slammed back to me. My slip of memory was natural. After all, both of us were sleepy and sex-logged.

“Wait for what?” my love, my husband and now my fellow vampire said, raising one eyebrow, stroking my cheek. “Did you forget?”

I buried my head in his chest. “Um humm…”

He pulled my head up and watched me with those glorious dark blue-verging-on-violet eyes. This time, there was a hint of mirth and a slow smile.

“Quit mumbling. Did you forget?”

I had forgotten. My thirty-two years of waking and watching the sun was pulled from my inherent memory. Only for an instant. Even though we’d been lovers for the better part of three years, now was different. Jean-Louis had wanted to marry me. In my mind, that meant I’d have to let him change me. It wasn’t fair to either of us for me to stay a regular.

A few weeks ago I’d said “yes”. Yes, to marriage and yes to change.

We’d had a lush and beautiful wedding at winter solstice and were on our honeymoon…and I was a vampire.

The sun I worshipped all my life in southern California was now anathema.  Jean-Louis, like all the others in the Kandesky family, spent most of his time working with regulars. He’d adapted an ability to survive small doses of sun, meaning I wasn’t totally cut off from what had been my passion. I’d exchanged passions. He meant more to me than the sun.

The family members used underground garages; heavily-tinted windows in their Mercedes; drapes over windows; dark, dark sunglasses and dinner parties to conduct business. And business was their business. The Kandesky family owned SNAP, the world’s largest and richest celeb gossip news network with TV and magazines that covered the Western Hemisphere and most of the Eastern one, as well.

Now, I was a family member.

Since Jean-Louis and I had been living together, a honeymoon seemed a quaint ritual. He insisted. “You’ve been through mind-shattering changes.” He held my hand, opened it and kissed my palm. “Thank you for saying yes. I want this to be the best for you.”

Then he licked my palm and gently sucked the webbing of my thumb, leering up at me. “Not to mention all the years we’ll have…” The rest of “in bed” was understood.

Winter solstice was the major celebration for the Kandeskys, the longest night of the year. After the ceremony and reception, with close to a thousand guests, Sandor bundled us into a Mercedes for the short trip to an Alp. Not just any Alp, this was in the Bernese Oberland, with Jungfrau barely looming over us. Jean-Louis knew a guy. He always knew a guy. But this guy owned a chalet on one of the lower slopes.

We were helicoptered in and met by two demons and some servants whom Sandor had sent ahead. After the helicopter left, a storm blew in and we had three days cocooned in rustic luxury and warmth.

“You probably didn’t know I controlled the weather,” Jean-Louis said last night and handed me a glass of Bulls Blood, my drink of choice now. “This was to give us a few days with no interruptions.”

“Do you think we’ve had enough?”

His eyes softened. “A millennium with you wouldn’t be enough,” he said, as he kissed me. Our tongues twisted together, heat soared through my body. I felt as though sparks were streaming from my fingers and toes.

“You have a slight glimmer.” He broke the kiss, smiled at me and carried me to the bed where we spent a few hours exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. I loved his long, expressive hands and what he did with them.

His was a well-muscled body, toned by work more than five hundred years ago. Thighs and calves defined from riding horses, back and arms from lifting heavy bales of cloth. Jean-Louis was in his late twenties when Stefan Kandesky turned him, and maintained his young male body. Even his scent, musky male overwritten with a hint of sandalwood soap and shampoo, made me shiver.

Last evening made me so sated and sex-drugged it was an instinctual reaction to try and stop Sandor from closing the shutters. In my haze, I reverted to my previous life as a sun-worshipper.

Once the shutters came down, Jean-Louis turned on a bedside lamp. “We need to talk.”

We need to talk? Wasn’t that supposed to be my line?

“I thought we’d been talking. What about?”

He reached over to pull my head onto his chest, which was sinful. I could feel his voice as well as hear it.

“Our idyll here.”

I tried to sit up, but he held me. “What about it? Aren’t you happy? I thought this was what you wanted.”

He twisted a hand in my hair and raised my face to give me a soft kiss. “I did.  I thought getting us away for a few days on top of an Alp would help you adjust to your new self. I’m surprised you had a flash of your regular life.”

Was he telling me I’d failed some test that I didn’t know was coming? Did he feel my momentarily forgetting was a repudiation of him? Of the Kandeskys?

“No, Maxie. Not that at all.”

Crap, I didn’t think about his non-verbal communication skills. The vampires couldn’t mind-read, exactly, but watched body language, facial expressions and mixed it with a vast collective unconscious. Most times, they used this to communicate with one another. Jean-Louis had been teaching me to control my mind and thoughts, but it seemed I had a way to go.

“Do you want to leave?” In truth, this time was magical and cemented my relationship with Jean-Louis. But I’m a woman of the twenty-first century and need to have adrenaline and stimulation for my mental health.

“I know that, my love. I’ll never be without you, ever. We’ve shut ourselves away for days from our outside lives. I think it’s time we get back.”