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Archive for the ‘romance books’ Category

                                        Romance for the Ages

 

Catherine Castle is visiting today. Her newest book, a sweet romantic comedy entitled A Groom for Mama, released September 2017 from Soul Mate Publishing. And isn’t this cover just too cute? I think so. And Catherine has included her list of the top ten signs you might be headed for a really bad date. It’s included at the bottom of the page.  So, with no further adieu, welcome, Catherine!

                                               About “A Groom for Mama”:

My new release, A Groom for Mama, is a sweet romantic comedy, with a touch of drama.  The book has a number of bad dates the heroine endures as an agreement with her mother, who wants her to find a husband.

* * *

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

Excerpt:

Allison snapped her suitcase shut and shoved it under the bed. “I don’t want to talk about the one who got away, or any other man, Mama. They grab your heart and break it—just like Daddy did to you . . . to us.”

“Not all men are like your daddy,” Mama said. “There are good ones out there, too.”

“Not in my experience.” Allison gave her mother a hug. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?”

Mama’s silence told her she hadn’t heard the last of this subject. Her mother’s stomach growled, easing the way to a subject change.

Laughing, she asked, “Are you hungry, because I’m starving. Come on, I’ll fix you some lunch. How does your favorite—tuna salad—sound?”

“Lunch,” Mama echoed. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—Jack’s bringing something over.” The doorbell rang and Mama smiled sweetly. “You’d better run and answer the door, dear. I’m not taking the stairs too good, what with my arthritis and—”

Allison cut her off. “Please don’t say it, Mama.”

With a nod, Mama said, “Hurry then, before whoever it is thinks we’re not coming.”

“Do you need me to return and help you downstairs?”

“No thank you, dear. I can manage.”

Allison didn’t doubt that for a minute. Her already-stubborn mother grew more stubborn every day, if that was possible.

It’s just the situation. I won’t lose my temper when we’re both so stressed, she promised herself. Time is too precious to waste on arguing.

Bounding down the stairwell as the bell rang, she shouted, “I’m coming! I’m coming. Keep your pants on!” She threw the deadbolt off and jerked open the door.

Jack Somerset stood in front of her, his chin perched on top of a stack of Chinese take-out cartons. Shoving down her tingling gut reaction, she commanded her heart to stop jumping like an over excited puppy.

Except for a few more laugh wrinkles around his eyes, Jack hadn’t changed a bit since college. His brown hair still dipped over his forehead in a shaggy mane. A lopsided smile spread across his face when he saw her. He winked at her, his green eyes twinkling.

“Well, if it isn’t the bride-to-be. Nice to see you again, Allison.” He jiggled the cartons balanced in his arms. “I brought Chinese. I remember it was your favorite. Moo shu pork, right?” He pushed past her and headed toward the kitchen, apparently as well acquainted with her childhood home as she.

Grabbing her head between her hands, she squeezed her temples.

Chinese. Of all the things he could have brought, he brought Chinese.

She’d broken it off with him in a Chinese restaurant . . . over moo shu pork. Very loudly and very violently. The pork and the pot of hot tea had landed in Jack’s lap when he tried to keep her from leaving the table. Did his choice of entrees mean Jack hadn’t forgotten the incident? She hadn’t, and she’d been unable to eat that particular Chinese dish since.

Trailing behind him into the kitchen, she said, “You can put the boxes on the table.”

He obliged then started taking plates out of the cabinets.

A frisson of annoyance crept up her spine at the familiarity he showed in her mother’s kitchen. “Why don’t you just make yourself at home?”

“I will.” He shot a boyish grin at her. “Been doing it for some time now.” He set three plates on the table then turned and dug into the silverware drawer.

Stunned, she watched as he laid the silverware out on the table just the way Mama liked them—the knife, fork, and spoon lined up on the right-hand side of the plate. He hadn’t been joking when he said he been making himself at home.

What in heaven’s name had her old flame been doing in her absence? Courting Mama?

                            Want to read more? I sure do. Check out the book on Amazon.
Connect with Catherine!

Catherine’s website: http://catherinecastle1.wordpress.com
Catherine’s blog: http://catherinecastle1.wordpress.com/blog/
Catherine’s Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/catherinecastle
Catherine’s Goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7085414.Catherine_Castle
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCCastle    @AuthorCCastle
Facebook: http://facebook.com/catherinecastleauthor

 

 Group blogs where you can find Catherine:
Stitches Thru Time: http://stitchesthrutime.blogspot.com/
SMP authors blog site:   http://smpauthors.wordpress.com/
Book Links:
A Groom for Mama: www.amzn.com/dp/B074SZSGB1The Nun and the Narc: Amazon http://amzn.com/B00CHU9DH2
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-nun-and-the-narc-catherine-castle/1116942061?ean=978161935296
                                            About Catherine Castle:
Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. Before beginning her career as a romance writer she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. Besides writing, Catherine loves traveling with her husband, singing, and attending theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

 

Her debut inspiration romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing was an ACFW Genesis Finalist, a 2014 EPIC finalist, and the winner of the 2014 Beverly Hills Book Award and the 2014 RONE Award. Her most recent release, A Groom for Mama, is a sweet romantic comedy from Soul Mate Publishing.  Both books are available on Amazon.

     Bonus: Ten Signs You Might Be Headed for a Disastrous Date List:

(My apologies to Catherine. She gave me her list with the countdown in chronological order. My system automatically renumbered them upwards and will not play nice with Catherine’s system.)

Considering the context of the book’s humor, I thought it might be fun to do a countdown of ten signs that you might be headed for a disastrous date.  Here’s my list:

  1. You can smell him before you see him, and the odor is not his aftershave.
  2. When he arrives, he turns his empty pockets inside out.
  3. He has more holes in his shirt than you have in your designer jeans.
  4. He looks nothing like his dating site profile picture.
  5. The flower he presents to you looks suspiciously like the prize-winning rose from your front yard flowerbed.
  6. He greets you with the words, “Can you hurry up? The meter’s running.”
  7. His online profile lists him as a world-renowned chef, yet he pulls in at the Golden Arches to take you to dinner.
  8. If you don’t end up at the Golden Arches, when the waiter offers up a $17 bottle of artesian water for your drinking pleasure, your date asks, “Do you have tap water?”
  9. He orders the cheapest thing on the menu and says, “Bring two plates. We’re going to share.

And the number one sign you’re headed for a disastrous date . . .

  1. He goes to the bathroom after dessert and never returns, leaving you with the check for dinner and a taxi cab bill to get home.
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Heaven is hell without her.

The Soul Mate Tree series has been quite a wonderful project, with talented authors adding a new story each month. I have had the pleasure this year of reading many of them and hosting a few of the writers here on the blog. This month I am happy to have author L.D. Rose visit. Her contribution is called “Sweet Sacrifice”. Welcome, Linda! Can you tell us what “Sweet Sacrifice” is about?

Former Navy SEAL Sebastian “Bash” Lockard died in Afghanistan after leaping on a grenade to save his comrades. Little did he know his act of heroism would grant him a ticket into Heaven’s elite army as one of the few and powerful Archangels. Struggling with his new existence, Bash still retains his human memories, leaving behind a wife he loves with all of his heart. Although he’s forbidden to see her, he can’t resist her lure, or the mortal desires he harbors for her.

As a young widow and nurse, Irene Lockard still mourns her husband two years after his untimely death. His absence is everywhere, and when her best friend weds, she hits an emotional rock bottom. As if summoned from the skies above, Sebastian appears before her, and they share an unforgettable night. But when he once again vanishes, she wonders if she’s truly gone mad with grief.

The only way Sebastian can remain with Irene is if he makes the ultimate sacrifice. But will she overcome her fear of losing him again to another war?

And here is a short snippet of it:

Bash’s gaze caught on a couple on the dance floor, the sight of her sinking into him like hooks and bringing him to a standstill.

With her dark curls springing over her shoulders, she spun across the hardwood, her pale gray dress flowing around her. Much like in his recent vision of her, she tipped her head back and laughed, beautiful, stunning, her smile as bright as the yellow calla lilies tucked in her hair. She swayed with a man in dress whites, a Marine, another fucking soldier she didn’t belong with. And as the rain of realization became a downpour of comprehension, he remembered the engagement, where Claude proposed to Lucille—at their wedding—right before Bash left for another tour of Afghanistan.

“Bash?” Gabriel stepped in front of him, blocking his view, pale eyes narrowed.

Bash’s hand slammed into Gabriel’s chest, pushing him away as he lurched forward. Gabriel reacted faster, though, snatching his arm and wrenching him back at least four feet. Bash lunged again and the Arc’s hand fisted in his white button-down shirt.

“Don’t,” Gabriel growled, all humor draining from his angular face and setting his expression in stone. “Do not.”

Bash’s heart punched at the angel’s fist, every fiber of his being burning with the urge to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and feel her body against his one more time. Envy, rage, longing, and sadness blasted through him in a toxic tornado of emotion ready to whip this place into oblivion.

He nearly ground his molars into pulp. “Let. Me. Go.”

“You are dead, Sebastian. You’re no longer part of this world. All you’ll do is bring her pain, bring yourself pain. Don’t do this.” Twin streams of air whistled from the Arc’s nostrils as he shook his head. “I should’ve never brought you here.”

Bring him pain? More pain than he’d already endured? No.

No.

 Oh, I like that! And I love that name, Sebastian. Where can we get a copy, L.D.?

List of Links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074KJTJT8/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B074KJTJT8/

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B074KJTJT8/

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/d/B074KJTJT8/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35912787-sweet-sacrifice

Pinterest Board: https://www.pinterest.com/writerldrose/sweet-sacrifice/

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/12150626565/playlist/4nG0R3mLB36hP2osulBBJp

To learn more about L.D.Rose, check this out:

L.D. Rose is a neurotic physician by day, crazed writer by night, and all around wannabe superhero. She writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy, but she’s been known to delve into horror, sci-fi, and medical suspense on occasion. L.D. Rose is a PAN member of the RWA, FF&P, NEC-RWA and CoLoNY. She currently lives in Rhode Island with her studly hubby, her hyperactive boxer, and her two devious cats.

Sign up for her newsletter for the latest on the Senary, sneak peeks, giveaways, and other fun stuff: http://eepurl.com/bKvuXD. You’ll receive a free horror short story with sign-up!

You can also join her reader group on FB for more shenanigans. 😉 DEVOUR THE NIGHT: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1544747369161573/

Where else to find her:

Website: www.writerldrose.com

Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/author/ldrose

Facebook: www.facebook.com/writerldrose

Author page: www.facebook.com/ldroseauthorpage

Twitter: www.twitter.com/ld_rose

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/ldrose

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/writerldrose

Tumblr: www.writerdoc.tumblr.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ld_rose/

BookBub: www.bookbub.com/authors/l-d-rose

And just in case you weren’t already hooked, here is a longer snippet of “Sweet Sacrifice”:

Her eyes snapped open, her vision blanketed by huge white feathers, before a giant wing shoved her back. Her arms flailed as she fell hard on her tailbone, the impact rattling up her spine and clacking her jaw shut.

Pain and awareness ripped into her, the veil of fantasy torn from her eyes as she gawked at the rail in front of her.

She was outside. In the dark. Ready to jump from her hotel balcony.

Her sharp intake of air scraped her ears, her heart kicking against her ribcage as she covered her gaping mouth with her hand. Holy shit. Did I sleepwalk? Was she really about to plummet to her death from fourteen stories high?

And did a huge bird just save her life?

Backpedaling across the concrete, the air cool against her thighs now that she’d nearly torn her dress in half, she hit the glass of the sliding balcony doors. Reaching up with a shaking hand, she clutched the handle and pulled herself haphazardly to her feet, yanking the door open and stumbling inside. She slammed it shut behind her, the glass rattling from the force of the blow as she flipped the lock closed. Retreating farther, she toppled onto the bed, staring at the night outside with growing horror.

She recounted her steps from when she’d arrived at the hotel. The elevator, the housekeeper, entering the room, sitting, crying, falling asleep, the river, the blood, the panic, the tree—

The tree.

Climbing the tree, touching its leaves, remembering . . .

A loud thump hit the balcony outside, muted by the thick glass. Her bleary eyes shot to the figure standing on the ledge and she released a cross between a sob and a shriek, then stifled her mouth with a hand.

Tall, bare-chested, his suit jacket and shirt bunched in his fist as he tossed them aside. Tattoos covered his arms, shoulders, and the base of his neck. Closer now, she discerned the pattern of inked wings, pale muscles rippling, lines and cuts he’d never worn before. His dark hair fell a little longer on top, disheveled from the wind, his face still carved with gorgeous edges, but thinner, wearier. His eyes were black holes, endless, consuming. Infinite.

Sebastian.

His knuckles rapped on the glass, the sound sending a terrified jolt into her nervous system. His eyes bore into hers, cutting through the darkness.

“Reen. Open the door.”

Reen. Her nickname rumbled from his lips, his voice still that resonant timbre she adored. God, some nights she’d pleaded to hear that sound again, just to listen to him speak one last time.

This had to be another dream. He had to be a dream. She was hallucinating.

Christ, had Phillipe spiked her drink?

“Reen.” He grasped the handle, tugged on it, his inked bicep contracting. “I know you see me.”

She couldn’t move, nailed to the bed with fear, paralyzed by disbelief. He pressed both palms flat on the glass, big hands with callused fingers, hands that had memorized every part of her body. He broke eye contact, dipping his head as he murmured, “Please, baby. Let me in.”

As if his plea granted her motor skills, Irene was suddenly on her feet, hurrying across the carpet toward him. She struggled to control her shaking hands, trembles reverberating through her entire body. It took her three tries to flip the latch, and then she backed away, recoiling, afraid of this man who looked so much like her dead lover.

He pulled the slider open in a smooth, fluid movement, the cool ocean breeze escaping into the airless hotel. Setting his sights on her, he stepped over the threshold, his presence filling the room, overwhelming her entirely. When her back hit the main door, the opportunity to flee opened up wide, but she stilled as his scent wafted into her nostrils, a blend of sandalwood and her husband.

Sebastian. Her Sebastian.

The slider closed behind him, the finality of the sound echoing through her bones, and she couldn’t run.

Not from him. Never from him.

An almost strangled sigh escaped him and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A gut-wrenching pain glittered in his dark eyes while he drank her in, his gaze skittering over her from head to toe, as if reacquainting himself with his broken disaster of a wife.

Finally, he approached her in the dark, closing the distance between them, and she pressed harder against the door. If he held her, if he so much as touched her, she would be lost to him, squandering any semblance of sanity she’d managed to retain in these awful years without him.

Blistering tears flowed freely down her cheeks as he halted mere inches away, so close, so goddamn close his warmth radiated off his bare chest. He lifted a hand and she flinched, stopping him as if she’d slapped him. The pained expression on his face yanked a wretched sob from her throat, and she just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe he stood right there in front of her.

The medal, the flag, the decorated casket, the salute . . . had it all been a lie?

His finger brushed her cheek, tentative, soft, waiting for her to strike. When she didn’t, he cupped her face in his hand, his skin still rough and callused, wiping away her tears with his thumb. She leaned into his touch, unable to resist his warmth, and he framed her face with his free hand, staring into her eyes with a need so raw it stole what little breath she had left in her burning lungs.

“My God.” He whispered the words, as if he didn’t have the strength to give them voice. “I’ve missed you.”

.

 

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This is a well done romance with plenty of twists and turns. I am not sure whether Ms. Gilmore is personally knowledgeable about London’s social scenery or if she researched it thoroughly. Either way, the London scenes were most believable. The story spans three countries:, England, USA, and Mexico.

Taylor Fairchild’s dad persuades her to take a vacation from their music insider business, and fly to London, England. Begrudgingly, she complies. While there, she discovers a rock band called Fury. She is convinced they could become hot in America and she starts the pursuit to suggest they create a demo recording for her.

Once she and lead singer, Craig Phillips, join up, the chemistry is undeniable. They spend a large amount of time together. However, Craig and another Fury band member have a secret side-job: being the drop men for a underworld drug kingpin.

Taylor, Craig and the Fury band go to Los Angeles, and indeed they become the next big rock group. Craig thinks he’s left his undesirable side job behind him, in the past where it belongs. He focuses his attention on building his dream with the band, and creating a serious relationship with Taylor.

It all goes smooth for a while, until Craig’s past returns to haunt him. His kid brother, Shaun, disappears, and Craig is summoned to Mexico to get him. There, Craig’s past and present collide, caught in the clutches of a vile, heartless drug lord.

Meanwhile, Taylor grows tired of waiting to hear from Craig, and launches her own investigation to find him. She tracks him to Mexico and soon finds herself caught in the dangerous and mysterious web of his past as well.

With thoroughly despicable bad guys and sizzling chemistry between Taylor and Craig, and plenty of unexpected plot twists; I can only say one thing for Diane Gilmore’s “Perilous Pursuit”: Well done!

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This was received through Reading Alley in exchange for an honest review.

 

The entire story was told in first person, mostly through Candace’s POV. A portion of the book was devoted to Jack’s first person POV. This is book 1 in the ‘I Want Morrison’ series, so called because each book tells the story on one Morrison sibling. This is Jack’s story, the eldest Morrison child.

 

Candance Gleason…Candie to her dad and Jack…has finally achieved her dream. She is a new lawyer at a top firm, ready to work her way up the corporate ladder.  Just when she thinks she has it all figured out, she is assigned to…Jack Morrison.

Activist, devilishly handsome, reckless, he is the bane of his family’s empire. And a major thorn to Candance. Except now she is hired to keep him out of jail, trouble, and the media spotlight. Not an easy task for someone who delights in thumbing his nose at anything and anyone who gets in his way. Someone who seemingly lives to taunt and tease.

One the surface, this looks like a case of rich kid rebellion. It goes much deeper. Jack’s arrogance is actually a driving passion to make positive changes in other’s lives. Underprivileged people’s lives. He is not above using his privileges to aid in his quest, to help those less fortunate, those being beleaguered by his own ‘type of people’.

Ms. Harris does a fantastic job of creating Jack, a multi-layered character who has so much good to offer if one can see past what seems like obvious character flaws. What I did not care for, and what keeps my rating a little lower, is the constant use of the character’s names in dialogue. While I personally like the name Jack, and see the need to identify who is speaking to whom, I do not care to see their names each and every time they are spoken to. There are better literary tools to identify who is being talked to. This is truly a case of “less is more”.  IMHO.

Next, initially I found the whole premise of a family–specifically a wealthy, driven, family like the Morrison’s, hiring their newest firm lawyer to “babysit” their grown son a bit farfetched. If they waited, and gave him enough rope, he would surely hang himself, get jailed for a lengthy stay, and it would put an end to the activist activities that plague the family. It would be must cheaper, quicker, and easier than wasting a babysitter to keep him leashed. For that reason alone, I nearly stopped reading.

However, I am glad I kept on. The story goes much deeper than that summary. The Morrison family does not want Jack in jail, or in any trouble. To avoid spoilers, let me just say when I kept reading, and got to know the family, and Jack’s motivations, better, the loyalty and bonds between them–and the sibling rivalry–between them all became clear.

Lastly, the chemistry between Candace and Jack felt real. Their dialogue–sans the repetitive name usage–was witty and fun. The shift from irritation to attraction was gradual enough to make it believable. Candace’s move from realizing all her dreams to inheriting a pain in the butt to falling for him once she witnesses his motivations make her real as well. The pacing is great. Candace and Jack’s opposite personalities make a great mesh.

Overall, I enjoyed this book 1 in the I Want Morrison series. It is a stand alone book with no cliffhangers.

 

 

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Disclaimer: I was given an ARC by the author’s publisher, Harlequin, in exchange for an honest review.

 

How can we expect a relationship to build and last? She was a thief and pickpocket, looking for a mark before skipping town.  He accidentally snagged her bracelet as she went for his wallet. She’s on the run from a husband she left on her wedding day. He hires her to work in the family bar.

Not exactly great attributes to lay a strong foundation in a relationship. Yet, through careful weaving of B.J. Daniels’ threads, Mariah Ayres and Darby Cahill do indeed lay that foundation. And over then next three hundred-odd pages, it grows.

Several sets of secondary characters add depth to Mariah and Darby’s story. It seems impossible that one could not care what happens to them as the threats move in.

There are plenty of strong emotions carried through the story. The characters are well fleshed out. The scenes are believable.

Lastly, the conclusion gave a whole new meaning to “It was a dark and stormy night”. It truly was a dark and stormy night when Mariah’s past came to be her very real and scary present, and threatened not only her future, but Darby’s and others as well. Meantime, other character’s lives that ran alongside Mariah and Darby now that their own futures jeopardized.

And with a flick of her mighty pen, B.J. Daniels ties up all the loose threads of her tapestry, leaving a satisfying end result.

Note, this is subtitled A Cahill Ranch Novel, which also includes ‘Renegade’s Pride’ as part of each stand-alone in the series.

 

 

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I am very pleased to have fellow author, Carole Ann Moleti, visit. I love the title and cover of her latest novel, “Storm Watch”, book three of the Unfinished Business series. The official genre is Light Paranormal Romance. It has some spice, open door sex scenes, but no erotic. The author tells me there is minimal foul language.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35436420-storm-watch

 

Welcome Carole Ann!  Tell us about your series.

Thanks so much for hosting me today. Storm Watch is the third book in the series, which I started writing as short story I called Unfinished Business, back in 2006. That initial piece was published in Haunted: Ten Tales of Ghosts. Truly unfinished, it was the middle of the story, and I was encouraged to “novelize” it by adding the backstory for Liz and Elisabeth, which became Breakwater Beach. Then I wrote forward to expand on Mike and Jared’s stories. Storm Watch brings all the characters and their ghosts back onstage together.

The Unfinished Business Series

I’m excited, but a little sad because this is the last book in the series, at least with Mike and Liz as the hero and heroine.  I’ve toyed with the idea of writing two more books, one focused on Mae and Kevin, and one based on Sandra.  Based on past experience, once I’m sitting on Breakwater or Paine’s Creek Beach this summer, or walking the Brewster Flats, I’ll be dictating scenes from Book Four into my Dragon app. Good thing I go walking alone early in the morning else people would think I was nuts.

Oh, I think we writers are entitled to talk to ourselves and not be declared officially insane. Don’t you agree? We can always refer to is as ‘research’. {wink, wink}

All these books have strong autobiographical themes, though most people will not pick up on those unless they know me very well. Sure, the birth scene harkens back to my work at the North Shore Birth Center. But the characters are composites of people I know, put into situations I’ve encountered when on the Cape or wandering around Boston, my adopted city where I lived during my midwifery internship. I’ve put up some of my favorite images on Pinterest boards for the Unfinished Business series https://www.pinterest.com/caroleannmoleti/the-unfinished-business-series/ , Storm Watch, https://www.pinterest.com/caroleannmoleti/storm-watch/   and Liz’s Boston https://www.pinterest.com/caroleannmoleti/lizs-boston/

 

There is so much I’d love to talk about, but I’d really rather answer questions readers might have about the series, or the individual books. So, read the blurbs and the excerpts on my website http://www.caroleannmoleti.com/the-unfinished-business-series/  to get a feel and ask away. {blurbs to each book and one excerpt are also given below} Better yet, subscribe to my newsletter http://eepurl.com/bfNver  All new subscribers get a free PDF of Haunted: Ten Tales of Ghosts, plus special announcements, bonus content, and all my tour information , including sales.

Amazon Order Link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073DJZLD3

 

 

Social Media Links

Newsletter:  http://eepurl.com/bfNver

Twitter: http://Twitter.com/Cmoleti

Website: http://www.caroleannmoleti.com/the-unfinished-business-series/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/caroleannmoleti

Blog:  http://caroleannmoleti.blogspot.com

plus.google.com/103609323247390103301

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomCmoleti

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/caroleannmoleti/

BREAKWATER BEACH ➜➜ http://amzn.to/2spo5a9
THE WIDOW’S WALK ➜➜ http://amzn.to/2sZdi3v

Blurbs:

Breakwater Beach: Book One    

 

Liz Levine is convinced her recently deceased husband is engineering the sequence of events that propels her into a new life. But it’s sea captain Edward Barrett, the husband that died over a century ago, who has returned to complete their unfinished business. Edward’s lingering presence complicates all her plans and jeopardizes a new relationship that reawakens her passion for life and love. What are Captain Barrett’s plans for his wife, and for the man who is the new object of her affections?

 

The Widow’s Walk: Book Two     

 

Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted. By their own ghosts. The Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Mike, Liz, and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were they doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?

Storm Watch: Book Three    

 

Mike and Liz thought they’d gotten control of the specters haunting the Barrett Inn. But things get very complicated when they’re the ghosts from your past life. The Category Five Hurricane bearing down on Cape Cod appears to be headed directly for them–or has it been spawned from inside them? Knowing it’s their last chance to end the hauntings, Mike and Liz must decide whether to run or to defy evacuation orders. Will they survive the storm?

 

Excerpt of “Storm Watch”–

 

Mike and Liz had survived the first round, and they’d remained hopeful the specters would settle down. But there was enough unfinished business for any cosmic disturbance to rile them up again. This storm watch was more than just a minor blip on the radar—or a coincidence.

Noisy seagulls hunted as the storm with enough power to blow them to Rhode Island threatened. Mike rolled his shoulders, flexing the stiff muscles in his back, trying to imagine he could shed his wife and his son to escape the gaping jaws of Captain Edward Barrett’s legacy. Normally a lingering vague threat, it rubbed him raw at moments like this when he had nothing to do but wait for the bay to come in around him so he could go out and make a living.

He rinsed his hands in a tide pool. The shadow sent hermit crabs scurrying. Brine stung his knuckles but stopped the oozing with that invisible layer of stickiness every saltwater fisherman learns to love. An incoming tide rolled across the flats as the storm clouds amassed.

The boat teeter-tottered on its keel as Mike climbed aboard and settled into a seat. Reassured by the glimmering water rippling in to release him from bondage, he readied his fishing gear. Chants of “ohmmmmm” from morning beach yoga carried in the breeze. At least that was connection with living spirits, as opposed to the dead, stale vestiges of lives ended too soon who were unable to give up and let go.

A woman out for an early morning walk grew larger and larger. Her broad-brimmed hat dipped so low over her eyes he couldn’t see her face, though her skinny legs, matchstick arms, and pigeon chest were unmistakable once she’d emerged from the glare. That, the jangling earrings, and the purple and pink broomstick skirt hitched up and secured with a silver belt.

“Good morning, Mike.” Always oppositional, Sandra was headed out when everyone was on their way back.

“Where’re you going, Sandra? Tide’s coming in.”

She flipped up the floppy brim and grinned. “I’m headed over to check on Harley.”

The Whaler rocked in the surf. “Should be ready to roll in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a ride over.”

Sandra didn’t break stride. “That’s okay. I’ll be sitting on the beach with the old buzzard before you even pull up anchor.”

They were both oddballs: He, wearing a Red Sox cap, a scruffy beard, a black tee-shirt showing a bit of belly, while sitting like a bum in a beached boat. Sandra, like an escapee from a Harry Potter novel, headed over to check on a ninety-six-year-old hermit who lived on a dune that was cut off from the mainland at high tide.

 

 

 

 

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I just stood out on my porch and watched the rain fall in heavy sheets. It was wholly refreshing and relaxing. It was perhaps the second time all year I have had such a pleasant experience. When I bought my home in 2014, the porch was one of the big selling points. Then, I could already see myself nestled under a throw, cradling a cuppa tea while either scribbling away at my latest literary work, journaling, or simply–like today–watching the rain drop.

The first couple of years I did just that in regular batches. This year, sadly, I have not had the time. Why? Because I have been caught up in a whirlwind.

A whirlwind is described as a vortex (vertically rotating column) of wind forms due to instabilities and turbulence made by heating (air temperature) and flow (current gradients). Okay, what that technical mouthful means to me is a whirlwind is what occurs when air and things heat up, creating instability and turbulence, which in turn forms a strong rotating column of wind that whirls around, creating havoc and damage.

Yup, that about sums it up. It is bearing down on me, growling like a mad bear, claws at the ready. And I just stand there, too busy, tired, fed up, etc… to do much of anything. Certainly not smart enough to take solace on a wicker sofa with a cup of coffee (and probably something chocolate) on a rainy day.

Sound familiar?  We get busy with this and that and more and still more, and before we know it, the simple pleasures of life have slipped by and we wonder why haven’t we done this more recently. Just look how fast the pages of the calendar turn. I know each calendar’s days are numbered, but come on now. I am still waiting for April to get here so I can tear up the brick in the courtyard and fix a sagging patch. April? Next week I’ll be facing July in the eyes.

We can probably all lament about what our own personal whirlwind is. Mine is responsibility. I have come to see that as a character flaw. I have a full-time job, usually cracking around 44-45 hours a week. I pet sit and dog walk around that, usually around 15-18 hours a week. And my time around those two are devoted to writing tasks.

My second release of the year just came out this week and I am in the middle of a virtual blogging tour. There is a giveaway I am posting about for my romantic suspense novel that just turned one-year-old. There are two more novels coming out in November so there is covers, blurbs, hooks, and tags to work on before edits begin. I am in the middle of first round edits for my first-ever self published non-fiction book, based on the journey with my PTSD dog. Let me just say the world between self-publishing and traditional house publishing is vast indeed. Vast. And should I tire of any of those endless tasks I can always update blog, website, media pages, newsletters,  ads, etc… And should I run out of ideas there, I can always work on my latest work-in-progress. Right now I am about 20,000 words into a time travel romance novel. Roughly a quarter of the way done with the first rough draft.

And any time beyond all of that above is spent doing what zillions of others do. Clean the house, do the laundry, pay the bills, go shopping, brush the dog, fill the bird feeders, visit friends, call family, plus cooking and somewhere in there, sleeping.  Admittedly, everyone’s list of whirlwind activities will look a little different, but we all have them. The point is, we get so caught up in where we have to be, doing what we have to do, seeing who we have to see, that we feel the whirlwind of life swirl around us, and pick us up, and whisk us away from the pleasurable things that we need to keep us grounded, stable, and sane.  Like sitting on the porch and watching the rain fall. Or sitting by the river watching the river bubble past. Or whatever restores your sanity and breath.

This past week, I was doing a drop in visit at a client’s house and was petting a cat on the chin. Kitty loved it so I lingered, chatting and scratching while kitty purred in bliss. A thought struck me and I said it to kitty: “I always thought I was slowly going insane. Now I realize I am on the express freight train instead.”

Kitty didn’t care. Kitty was in his own personal moment of comfortable bliss.

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