Sharing some fun facts about myself and a few author friends. And, we all have questions for readers…
End of Lonely Street – A Vintage Romance Short Story from The Wild Rose Press – $1.99
Alicia Dean Fun Fact:
I wrote my first romance at eleven years old. My hero’s name was Lonnie Beal (after Elvis Presley’s character in the movie, Tickle Me) and I describe him in the story as looking just like Elvis. 🙂 I still have my pencil-written copy of the story, although it’s faded and difficult to read. When I began publishing, I continued the tradition of mentioning Elvis in most of my stories, although I learned to be a little more subtle. 🙂
Blurb:
All Toby Lawson wants is to go to college to become a teacher and to be free of her alcoholic mother and some painful memories. But when her mother nearly burns the house down, Toby must put her dreams on hold and return home to care for her. The only time she isn’t lonely and miserable is when she’s listening to her heartthrob, Elvis Presley. His music takes her away and helps her escape from everything wrong in her life.
Noah Rivers has always loved Toby, but no matter what he says, she can‘t get past the fact that her drunken mother once kissed him. He soon realizes the true problem lies in Toby’s belief she’s not good enough for him and in her fear she will be just like her mother.
What will it take to prove to her that she deserves to be happy, and that he would give anything to be the man to make her dreams come true?
Question for readers:What is your favorite era to read about? Contemporary? Vintage? Civil War? Regency? World War II? Other?
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A Red, Red Rose Cozy Mystery, Southern Gothic, The Wild Rose Press
Susan Coryell Fun Fact
I got the inspiration for a Red, Red Rose when I explored an actual Colonial estate that was rumored to be haunted. Though I never experienced anything unusual there, every family with children that toured the place reported that the kids felt “something weird.” One asked, “Did someone die in here?” Another said, “Oh no! I see a man in the fireplace!” My writer’s antennae went up and I started writing my cozy mystery/Southern Gothic on the spot.
Coming Spring of 2015 Beneath the Stones – The Wild Rose Press – sequel to A Red, Red Rose, 5 years later.
Blurb:
When twenty-year-old Ashby Overton travels to Overhome Estate for the summer, she hopes to unearth her ancestral roots and the cause of a mysterious family rift surrounding the horseback riding death of her Grandmother Lenore many years ago.
From the moment she enters her room in the oldest wing, Ashby feels an invisible, enfolding presence. She learns the room belonged to a woman named Rosabelle, but no one is willing to talk about Rosabelle—no one except Luke, the stable boy who captures her heart. As Ashby and Luke become closer, she realizes he can be the confidant she needs to share the terrifying, unfolding secrets.
Ever present is a force Ashby never sees, only feels. Candles light themselves, notes from an old lullaby fall from the ceiling, the radio tunes itself each day. And roses, always meant for Ashby, appear in the unlikeliest places. Are the roses a symbol of love, or do they represent something dark, something deep and evil?
Question for readers: Have you personally had a supernatural or paranormal experience?
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Now available for $.99— Gingerbread Wishes – Book 1, Sugar & Spice Bakery series. Holiday, Indie release
Linda Carroll-Bradd Fun Fact:
This story has made a progression from a holiday story aimed for a confession magazine to a short story included in a holiday anthology (but the company went out of business) to an indie release. Each time, I made changes (from first person to third, added the hero’s POV, lengthened the word count). But the essence of the story has remained the same and I’ve loved it in all its versions.
Blurb:
Tora can’t wait to sell the family bakery run by generations of Hammond women and seek excitement outside of Dorado, Texas. Widower Jordan Dawson, the town’s star quarterback from a decade ago, returns to his hometown with plans to develop a sporting goods store. He also hopes experiencing a small town Christmas will cheer up his five-year-old daughter, Jenna, still recovering from the loss of her mother. Will the spark of interest Tora sees in Jordan’s eyes be the excitement she’s looking for?
Question for readers: What do you like best about romances set in small towns?
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Nobody’s Baby, Contemporary romance, holiday ending, Indie release for only $3.99
Carol Burnside Fun Fact:
NOBODY’S BABY came about during a brainstorming session as I attempted to put a twist on a secret baby trope or plot. Well, the baby was a surprise to Rio but not in any way I’d ever read in a book. Authors are supposed to torment their characters and and—whoo-ee—do Kate and Rio have a lot to deal with in this heartwarming story with a Christmas ending! I hope my readers enjoy my twisted take on an inherited baby/secret baby plot.
About Carol: Award winning author of “Sizzling romance with heart and humor.” A native Texan, Carol is a southern gal through and through, a gardener, amateur chef, avid reader, dog and cat lover, crochet enthusiast, seamstress, and creative diva who dreams up ways to torment her characters from an imagination fueled by too much sweet tea. Also a traveler and at one time a nomad, Carol loves to draw upon her memories for story settings, whether close to home or far-flung.
Blurb:
She was the incubator, nothing more until the parents died tragically. Now she’s having Nobody’s Baby.
For Kate Morissey, becoming a surrogate seems like a great way to refill her tuition account and get the education she’s always wanted. After putting her life on hold to raise and educate her two brothers, she’s desperate for freedom and a college degree that will secure her future. Weeks away from realizing her dreams, a freak accident threatens everything.
Adopted as a boy into the safety of the Hawthorne family, Rio swore he’d never become a father. He won’t pass along his cruel legacy of abuse. When he inherits the last Hawthorne heir, obligation and duty dictates he abandon the challenges of guiding safari’s and become a parent. Convincing Kate to teach him infant care was the easy part. Proving his love isn’t her prison may be the hardest thing he’s ever done.
Question for readers: As a reader, what are your favorite tropes / plots / storylines?
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The Marriage Trap – Hawaii, Sexy romance, The Wild Rose Press
Marissa Garner Fun Fact:
I set THE MARRIAGE TRAP in Hawaii because every time I’ve visited the islands, it’s been a romantic adventure. The book draws on some of my experiences. I’ve actually stayed in the Volcano House overlooking the Kilauea Caldera, which is where my hero and heroine plan a getaway. I’ve hiked on Maui’s dormant volcano, Haleakala, which my characters also visit. I’ve snorkeled in the coral reefs and bodysurfed on the crashing waves. But I let Drew and Ginny do something that I never had the pleasure of experiencing. You’ll have to read the book to learn what they got to do that I didn’t.
THE MARRIAGE TRAP (First in the Hawaiian Heat series) is available now and only $4.61 from Amazon.
Blurb:
Ginny Fitzgerald has always dreamed of marriage and motherhood. But when she escapes her domineering former fiancé to attend a two-month writing seminar, she discovers more about herself than about fiction. Sparks fly and then ignite when she meets enigmatic Drew Morgan. He melts her reserved façade and unleashes her repressed passions. Sadly, Ginny believes she can never achieve her goals with Drew and fears the only happily-ever-after in her future is the one she’s writing for her romance novel.
Drew thinks marriage is a trap, and he’s made a pact with his brother to remain bachelors forever. Even when the Hawaiian Heat welds love and lust into his dream soul mate, he can’t marry Ginny. After she declines his invitation to live with him, he must choosebetween his opposition to the chains of marriage and the possibility of a lifetime of happiness.
I am pleased to welcome Jill James with a fun interview, and an intriguing new release….
Where did you get the idea for Love in the Time of Zombies?
I love reading in the zombie apocalypse genre and of course, romance. So I thought, why not combine the two?
Why did you choose this genre (is it something you’ve written in before)?
No, this is my first time. My other books are contemporary and paranormal romance.
Was there anything unusual, any anecdote about this book, the characters, title, process, etc, you’d like to share?
The title is, of course, a play on Love in the Time of Cholera. I wanted to write a very strong female lead and LITTOZ is definitely Emily’s story.
What is the most difficult thing about writing a book?
Butt in chair, Hands on keyboard. Once I’m writing, I’m fine. But that showing up every day is hard for me.
What was the most difficult thing about this one in particular?
This book had my largest cast to date. I had to use index cards on a white board to keep track of people and attributes.
What book have you read that you wish you would have written?
World War Z by Max Brooks. That book started my zombie apocalypse binge reading. He took such a chance writing it as a series of articles and interviews.
What do you love that most people don’t like and wouldn’t understand why you do?
Well, probably the whole zombie apocalypse thing. I love The Walking Dead, Zombieland, and even Shaun of the Dead. I’ve probably read 500 ZA books in the past two years.
What’s your favorite book of all time and why? What’s your favorite childhood book?
Skye O’Malley by Bertrice Small That book is timeless. Skye O’Malley is such a kickbutt heroine. I love her!! My favorite childhood book was the Little House on the Prairie books. It opened my eyes that someone could write a book about their life and people would want to read it.
What actors would you like in the main roles if your book were made into a movie?
I’ve always envisioned Alex O’Loughlin as Seth Ripley in my book. With longer hair and those soulful eyes. Yum! For Emily Gray it has always been Alyssa Milano in my mind. That deceptive fragility she has and the under layer of steel.
What genre have you never written that you’d like to write?
Historical romance. The research necessary scares me.
Influenza swept the planet. In months, two billion were dead. In the decimated United States, President Andrew Thomas signed an Executive Order to spray the national food and water supply with a flu vaccine. It spread and mutated up the food chain. The infected craved the flesh of the living and the undead walked the earth.
Overnight, Emily Gray’s privileged world was ripped away. From pampered trophy wife to sharpshooter zombie hunter. From an elite address in San Francisco to the outskirts of an East Bay farm town. You never know what event will define you. The apocalypse showed Emily what she was truly capable of doing to survive.
Seth Ripley was a truck driver with simple dreams. Pay off his mortgage, not live paycheck to paycheck, and take care of his mom. The end of the world as he knew it stole all that away. His home and livelihood are gone and the only dream he has left is for his mother to awake from her diabetic coma brought on from the trials and tribulations of getting out of Oakland ahead of the horde of undead.
When surviving day to day is all you ask of life, love seems an unrealistic dream. Who would ever think that something as terrible as the zombie apocalypse could bring Seth and Emily something as wonderful as their other half, their soul mate, their true love?
Now all they have to do is survive death, destruction, and a madman who wants to control what is left of the world they knew.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Guess you never know. Who would have thought something as terrible as the zombie apocalypse would bring me something as wonderful as Seth Ripley?
Of course, the zombies got my mother and my father, and my husband, Carl. Pretty much, they got my whole family. Okay, my husband Carl had been an asshole so he was no great loss. Never could keep it in his pants, if I may be so crude. If he could’ve kept it in his pants, he may have kept that appendage altogether. But, it was the early days of the Z virus mutation and how could he know the hooker he took to the cheap by-the-hour motel had the sickness? I’m sure he didn’t realize anything until the woman chewed it off, to be honestly blunt. He never was a great one for paying attention during sex as it was. Oh, maybe in the early days of our marriage, but he’d changed in the last few years, just before the end of the world.
Five years of him spreading it far and wide to prove his virility and all I was left with was a one-sheet police report and a blurred photo of Carl with one between the opaque, dead eyes. The police had stopped trying to take sickies to the hospital a couple of weeks before. By the time Carl was attacked it was kill ‘em, identify ‘em, and burn ‘em in a pile. KIB was the order of the day. A few weeks after that andthey skipped the identify part of the acronym too. A few weeks more and there weren’t enough police or bullets for the killing part either.
Six months had passed and the police were all gone, along with the military. Now it was survival of the fittest. Never in a million years would I have pictured myself; neglected society, trophy-wife, Emily Gray, in that category. Guess you never know.
Your day could start so shitty and end so… well, not great, because there weren’t too many great days anymore. The only definition to divide the monotony of the days were get bitten by a zombie day and not get bitten by a zombie day. But that day would turn out better than most. At least it would with a great deal of hindsight and distance from the event. Adding a whole hell of a lot of seeing a silver-lining after the fact helped too.
As with most days, I had zombie patrol for the morning, which was so not my best time of the day. But zombies don’t have an off switch so we had to hunt first thing in the morning to clear the perimeter around the giant mall.
Did you know shopping centers are the best defense against zombies? Me neither, until I got shipped out of what was left of San Francisco to the middle of nowhere—Brentwood. I’d never even heard of the town before I got sent there. Shopping centers are like medieval castles. Brick up the front doors and small back doors and the roof is like the battlements of a castle. Zombies can’t climb. Thank God for any small favor we could get. It’s about the only advantage we have. Because we have to sleep and the zombies don’t.
We were the last escapees of the city by the bay. Pre-Z the city had a population of more than 850, 000. In the end, San Francisco had 5,000 living beings to round up and ship to other communities to the east. The lieutenant governor (the governor had turned on live television and been put down) declared San Francisco the land of the undead, and blew up the bridges connecting it to the rest of the state and collapsed the Caldecott Tunnel for good measure. A bunch of massive explosions of entire city blocks to the south and San Francisco was pretty much an island of zombies.
My skin had burned lobster-red my first week of roof living here. San Francisco is more known for fog and chilly days than for getting a suntan. Once I tanned, it was the burnished copper of my ancestors—Native Americans of some unknown tribe, according to my mother. Way back in our ancestry, she had always been sure to add. The long hair my husband had insisted on was gone—happily. Long hair and zombies did not mix. My first day there I’d seen a young, blonde girl pulled back by her long braid and devoured in a dirt field. Long hair gone. Also happily gone, the extra thirty pounds I had carried through my unhappy marriage years. Running from zombies was the best aerobic exercise around. The penalty for missing a day of exercise was death—or nondeath in our case.
No one knew for sure back then if the animals were susceptible to the mutation, and what eating them would do to us, so breakfast was lots of fruits, vegetables, and soy patties. After six months of eating the food and drinking the water, either we were going to turn undead or not as far as I was concerned. I looked at it like this, if we were going to turn, we would have already done so. Scientific types were still testing cows and pigs to see if they just had the flu vaccine in them or if it would mutate in them too. Hadn’t seen any pigs or cows running amok yet.
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Author Bio:
Jill James is a published author with The Wild Rose Press and now self-published. Her books are contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and urban fantasy romance. She lives in Northern California with her husband who is the inspiration behind all her romance novel heroes.
Jill has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 2004. She started her work career as an accountant but soon realized that books and writing were her passion. Her first published book, Tempting Adam with The Wild Rose Press was a combination of her love of romance novels and the golden era of Hollywood movies.
Her hobbies are writing and reading, not necessarily in that order.
I’m happy to introduce Katie O’Sullivan and her new release…
Hi, Alicia! Thanks for hosting me on your blog today to talk about my latest contemporary romance, MY KIND OF CRAZY. It’s definitely a “beach book,” which might sound crazy in the middle of this cold, cold winter but books are an escape, right?
My pleasure…yes, if you want to escape from the cold, a beach read is a great way to do it!
Where did you get the idea for MY KIND OF CRAZY?
My novel is set on Cape Cod, which is a popular tourist destination in the summertime but also my year round home. There are tons of cute little B&Bs and inns, although my innkeeping experiences were all in Vermont, where my parents owned a ski lodge/inn in Killington. Many of the secondary characters and businesses in the book are based on real people and places, although I had no specific B&B in mind while writing.
During the time I was working on this book, we were going through the process of home renovations, and talking with contractors and builders. The stories they told about some of their jobs were eye-opening!
Do you have another occupation in addition to writing?
I earned my degree in English literature, so all my “day jobs” have had something to do with writing. Since graduation from college, I’ve worked in advertising, public relations, journalism and bank reporting. I’ve covered high school football games and edited technical manuals. My current full-time job title has been “Mom”, but with one off in college and the other two in high school, I now have more time to write and edit. I love working with other authors to edit their work and help make their ideas sparkle on the page.
Would you rather have a bad review or no review?
I used to think “no review,” but I’ve realized that even bad reviews give you feedback and insight into what resonates with readers and what falls flat. And at least I can see that people are reading and responding to my writing. I mean, a reader gave me a one-star review for MY KIND OF CRAZY because there are – gasp – sex scenes in the novel!
If you could change something about one of your books that’s already released, what would it be?
I would love to rework my second novel, PERFECT STRANGERS, and re-release it. The editing wasn’t the best, and I feel like my writing has gotten so much stronger. I got the rights back from that publisher, and it’s definitely a project on my to-do list for 2015.
Tell us your favorite…
Movie:Groundhog Day (Bill Murray at his best)
Music:Rock/Punk Pop
Place you’ve visited:Stonehenge (have you been?? You have to see it in person!)
Place you’d like to visit:Australia
TV show from adulthood:True Blood
Food:Chocolate. No wait, is coffee a food?
Sports team: Red Sox, of course!
Thanks for having me here today!
It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being here. I also love the Red Sox! They’re my second favorite American League team! 🙂 I also LOVED True Blood, but I’m afraid the final season was a huge letdown. 😦 I have not been to Stonehenge, but it sounds like I need to go. Ha! How dare you put a sex scene in a romance novel!
About MY KIND OF CRAZY:
Kendall Roarke is betting everything on making her Harwichport Bed & Breakfast into the premier wedding destination on Cape Cod, despite her recent messy divorce.
Jonathan Reynolds moved back to the Cape to take over his uncle’s business and start fresh after his own marriage ended. He’s not looking for anything complicated – until he meets Kendall, with her big plans and wild mop of curls.
Throw an unruly foster puppy and an uptight new neighbor into the mix and things get a little crazy. Now Kendall has to decide if it’s the kind of crazy that she can live with… for the rest of her life.
Excerpt from MY KIND OF CRAZY:
He reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around her arm, not letting her leave the front hall. “Kendall?”
Again with the major electrical sparks zinging through her! She was afraid to look him in the eye, afraid he’d be able to see it in her face, the devastating effect he had on her. They stood so close she felt the heat from his body radiating, warming the small space between them. His touch was fire on her bare skin. She finally raised her gaze to meet his eyes, luminous and deep. She felt like she might fall into those green pools and drown.
Breathe in, breathe out. She searched for words to answer the unasked questions in his eyes but none came to her.
“Kendall.” He whispered her name again as if it were the answer to some puzzle he was trying to solve.
Thoughts whirled through her head at lightning speed. Nothing about this made any kind of sense— especially not her attraction to a complete stranger. But there was no denying the electricity that ran through her body from his simplest touch.
“I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” Her low whisper matched his.
“What are you looking for?” He moved closer, his lips brushing her mouth, tasting of beer and salted peanuts. His warmth pulsed through her in shock waves, her traitorous body responding all too eagerly. He tasted so good, the salt sizzling on her tongue. The kiss shifted from soft and gentle to solid and deep. Arms slid around her, pulling her close, but she was too wrapped up in the kiss to protest. Why complain? He felt so good, the hard muscles of his arms and planed chest underneath that thin dress shirt, and another hardness evident, despite his proper dress pants.
Suddenly Kendall remembered that this was the same man who was fooling around with the married cougar of a librarian. She wanted to be outraged for the unwitting spouse, but all she could think was, Lucky librarian.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. Vaguely she registered the wall behind her, pressing hard against her back. His clever tongue tangled with her own, sending fresh waves of desire rippling through her.
Even as her body screamed Yes! she slid her hand between them, firmly pushing him backward and breaking the connection. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to get hurt again.” Her eyes searched his before she turned her head to look away. If she looked into those eyes for one more second she would forget all about saying no and let her body do whatever it wanted.
About the Author:
Katie O’Sullivan lives with her family and big dogs near the ocean on Cape Cod, drinking way too much coffee and inventing new excuses not to dust. Living next to the Atlantic influences everything she writes, and her YA paranormal series features the mermaids who live in Nantucket Sound, outside her windows. A recovering English major, she earned her degree at Colgate University and now writes romance and adventure for young adults and the young at heart. Her editing column, “The Write Way,” appears in CapeWomenOnline magazine.
*** I’m posting my weekly Elvis blog on Thursday instead of Friday this week ***
As everyone in the free world and beyond knows, today would have been Elvis Presley’s 80th birthday. He was born January 8, 1935 in Tupelo, Mississippi. He’s been gone for 38 years, but his legacy is thriving. Never has another entertainer had such a profound and lasting impact on the world. I often wonder, what would Elvis be like today had he lived? His hairdresser, friend, and mentor, Larry Geller, stated that, in the months preceding his death, Elvis spoke of turning his life around. He wanted to get healthy, he wanted to rid his life of some of the people around him who weren’t good for him, and among other things, he wanted to focus on making serious movies. I fervently wish he’d had that opportunity. While I would not have wanted him to stop touring (and I don’t believe he could have done so completely, he loved it too much), I would have loved to see what kind of new chapter he could have begun.
I have loved Elvis my entire life. He’s as much a part of me as breathing. I saw him in concert three times, I own all of his movies on DVD, my car stereo permanently remains on Sirius XM Elvis Radio, I named my son Presley, and my first ever romance, which I wrote at age eleven, was titled ‘Just Pretend,’ and my hero, who looked like Elvis, was named Lonnie Beal (after Elvis’ character in Tickle Me :)).
Today, in honor of Elvis’ 80th birthday, I am pleased to announce the release of ‘End of Lonely Street’, a Vintage Romance Short Story set in 1957, in the era when Elvis first burst on the scene. I have over twenty published titles, and I mention Elvis in almost every one of them, but this story is even more Elvis-oriented. It was so much fun to write it, and I hope it’s as much fun to read.
Who can tell me where the title of my story comes from? 🙂
Check out End of Lonely Street and enter to win GREAT prizes…
GIVEAWAY: – Entries accepted from January 8, 2015 through noon on January 22, 2015
Three prizes –
Elvis Gift Basket including DVD, CD, plus more
$25 Amazon Gift Card
$10 Amazon Gift Card
First place winner has first choice, second place winner has second choice, third place winner receives remaining prize.
Can she let go of the past, before it destroys her future?
All Toby Lawson wanted was to go to college to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher and to be free of her alcoholic mother and the painful memories of finding her and the guy Toby loved kissing. But when her mother nearly burns the house down, Toby must put her dreams on hold and return home to care for her. The only time she isn’t lonely and miserable is when she’s listening to her heartthrob, Elvis Presley. His music takes her away, helps her escape from everything wrong in her life.
Noah Rivers has always loved Toby, but no matter what he says, and even though she knows her mother initiated the kiss, and that he didn’t kiss her back, she can‘t seem to get past what happened. He soon realizes that the true problem lies in Toby’s belief that she’s not good enough for him and in her fear that she will be just like her mother.
What will it take to prove to her that she deserves to be happy, and that he would give anything to be the man to make her dreams come true?
Excerpt:
After work that night, Toby wasn’t ready to go home, so she sat in her car in the parking lot of Winstead’s, listening to the radio. “Love Me” by Elvis came on, and she cranked the volume.
Nothing else calmed her and lightened her heart like listening to him. She could escape into his music and all the bad just…faded away. When Elvis sang, there was no drunken mother, no failed dreams, no dying Miss Murdock. Toby didn’t only listen to his music, she felt it. It seemed to vibrate through her blood.
Although she was embarrassed to admit it, sometimes listening to him, watching him on television, made her all squirmy and hot—just like Noah made her feel. Especially that one night, when they had almost gone all the way.
Toby had been a senior in high school, and he’d graduated the year before. He picked her up and they drove out to the bluff, known as Make Out Row, overlooking downtown Mapleton.
The town was shrouded in darkness, but scattered lights shone, as though a starry sky were laid out below them. There were other cars around, but closed up in their cocoon, it was as though they were the only two people on Earth. Noah had kissed her, deep and long, whispering love words, telling her she was special, beautiful. She’d fallen in love with him at that very moment—wanted to be with him forever. He’d been the one to halt their make out session. She would have willingly gone all the way that night. She was helplessly under his spell…the feel of his lips on hers, his hand covering her breast through her thin blouse…
A tapping sound on the window made her jump. She looked through the glass to find Noah standing outside the car. Was he real, or just part of the fantasy world she’d drifted to? When another tap came, she blinked away the memories. He was definitely real.
**** Bonus Giveaway
I will draw one name from those who comment, and the winner will receive…
A free ebook of End of Lonely Street
Their choice of any other Alicia Dean title in their choice of any available format
A $10 Amazon Gift Card
(Winner will be drawn on Sunday, January 11th. My books can be found on this page: http://atomic-temporary-24849064.wpcomstaging.com/books/ – Only residents of the U.S. are eligible to receive print books. Non U.S. residents must choose an ebook format)
Purchase End of Lonely Street Ebook for only $1.99
(If you do not have a Kindle, you can download a FREE Kindle App for your PC or other devices. Click Here: Kindle App)
Elvis passed away so young, that it’s unimaginable to think of him as a grandfather. Lisa Marie was only nine years old when he died, but she is now forty-six. She’s been married four times. Her first marriage was to Danny Keough, with whom she had two children, Ryleigh and Benjamin. She was briefly married to Michael Jackson and Nicolas Cage. She is now married to Michael Lockwood, and they have twin girls, born in 2008. The twins’ names are Harper Vivienne Ann and Finley Aaron Love. The ‘Ann’ is from Priscilla’s middle name. And, of course, Aaron was Elvis’ middle name, and Love was his mother’s middle name. I think it’s awesome that she gave her children those names, but I can’t help think it’s a little unfair to poor Harper that she gets Priscilla’s and Finley gets both Elvis’ and his beloved mother’s middle names. 🙂
*** Susan Coryell mentioned the ‘twin’ connection, and that is something I meant to briefly address in my post. As I’m sure everyone knows, Elvis was born a twin, but his brother, Jess Garon, died at birth. It’s pretty awesome that Elvis’ only child also gave birth to twins.
Perhaps not all that surprising, both Ryleigh and Benjamin are in show business. Ryleigh is a model and actress. I first discovered this (although I should have already known) when I saw her in a small role in Magic Mike, the quite memorable male stripper movie starring Channing Tatum. Did any of you see the movie? Do you remember Ryleigh?
Benjamin is a singer, and he is purported to have a record deal, although the record has not been released yet.
Both of them most definitely have that ‘Presley’ look. Can you see it?
I can just imagine how proud Elvis would be of them. He was a doting father, and he adored Lisa Marie. I am sure he would be just as enamored of his grandchildren, if not more so. How awesome would it be to see the four of them perform together?
I love that Lisa has respected her father’s name and that she’s proud of her legacy. I just hope Elvis’ grandchildren do the same. Their heritage is a special one, and they owe their looks and their talent to him. Hopefully, they realize and appreciate that.
I’m pleased to welcome Juli D. Revezzo and her latest release, Sing a Mournful Melody…
Where did you get the idea for your novel?
The idea for “Sing a Mournful Melody” came from a daydream about a woman (Maribelle) hearing a ghostly voice from her Victrola. As I looked into the time period in which I wanted to set the story (1901) I found a phonograph developed by Alexander Graham Bell called a Graphophone. It’s a version of the record player that people don’t seem to know much about, so it drew my interest. The story of Maribelle’s beloved composer husband, and what becomes of him, blossomed from there.
What book have you read that you wish you would have written?
Oh, I wish I’d written “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, or Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Barring that it would be great to know Coleridge or Woolf, I think. 🙂
What’s the main thing that you could get rid of in your life that would give you more writing time?
I hate to say it, but social media. That’s the biggest time suck in life these days.
What’s your favorite book of all time and why?
My favorite book of all time? Elric of Melnibone by Michael Moorcock is probably my all-time favorite fantasy novel. As far as Classics, I have to go with LeFanu’s story from 1872,“Sir Dominick’s Bargain” and “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798) as an influence on my inclusion of Supernatural elements in my work. They particularly had an influence on the genesis of my story “Sing a Mournful Melody”.
What do you want readers to come away with after they read “Sing a Mournful Melody”?
I hope they will enjoy the story. Perhaps it will send their spines. 😉 Maybe, they will even learn something they hadn’t known before.
Would you rather have a bad review or no review?
That’s a tough question. A think a bad review. For all that they sting, I’ve noticed they do boost the signal a bit. 🙂
What genre have you never written that you’d like to write?
From the first time I picked up a pen, I have pretty much always experimented across genres. However, I would like to try my hand at a historical novel. In fact, I’m working on a Gothic romance right now, so it’s a distinct possibility I may tick it off my bucket list eventually. 🙂
What is your favorite…
Movie: I’m a movie fan, so there are many. Room with a View, Excalibur, Enchanted April, Pan’s Labrynth, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy…I could go on, but I won’t bore you. 🙂
Music: I enjoy a wide range of music—Rock, blues, heavy metal, classical, some new age, even some alt-country. Johnny Cash rocks, Elvis is good too. 🙂
Place you’ve visited: South Carolina.
Place you’d like to visit: Italy or Ireland.
TV show from childhoodBeauty and the Beast and Isis.
TV show from adulthood: I loved Gilmore Girls. Currently I’m obsessed with Once Upon a Time and Sleepy Hollow.
Food: Italian
Sports team:I must admit, I don’t pay attention to sports.
Which do you prefer:Board games/card games or television? I do like a good game of Monopoly but I must admit, I veg out in front of a movie on the DVD player more often than not, these days.
Thank you for joining me, Juli. Some very interesting information. I agree about the bad reviews. Uh, and you know I liked that you mentioned Elvis in your list of music 😉
Juli would like to ask readers a question now…
Who is your favorite Gothic heroine?
Blurb:
At the turn of the 20th century, tragedy has left Maribelle grief-stricken. After her beloved husband is murdered, his body disappears from his crypt. Worse, ghostly voices call from the widow’s Graphophone. Is she losing her mind, or does something wicked this way come?
Excerpt:
Maribelle, Maribelle. The words rang from the Graphophone in the corner, its needle humming across the short cylinder.
A shudder crept over her skin. Maribelle frowned and berated herself. Of course she was alone. How could she have expected otherwise? And yet, the voice gave her pause.
She couldn’t remember any song that mentioned her name, couldn’t remember having left the Graphophone running. Certainly not in so short a time.
“By God,” she said approaching the Graphophone, intent on shutting it off, “how could you let that thing scare you?”
“Maribelle,” the disembodied voice of the Graphophone said, deep and different now, “I know what you would do. You wish to die.”
Maribelle gasped and halted in her tracks. “How could you?”
The voice continued, oblivious to her question, “I have another suggestion for you.”
She flicked the switch on the side of the Graphophone’s case. “Be quiet, won’t you? I can’t hear myself think.”
She turned toward the door.
“Maribelle,” the voice came again.
Maribelle screeched in shock and turned, heart fluttering like a nervous sparrow’s wings.
The Graphophone played on its own. Its polished nickel tone arm glowed with a gloomy blue light as its needle scraped across the brown wax cylinder.
“As I said, I have another suggestion for you, if you’d listen for moment.”
Maribelle reached toward the needle. “I will hear no more,” she said.
“No,” said the stranger’s voice. “Listen to me. The one you loved is gone forever. No one can reunite you.”
She sniffled. “I know that much, sir.”
“So all the authorities say. But what do doctors and police truly know of death?” said the voice. “They cannot help you. Perhaps I can.”
Juli D. Revezzo is a Florida girl with a love of speculative and romantic fiction and legend, and loves writing stories with all kinds of fantastical elements. She is the author of The Antique Magic series and the Paranormal Romance Harshad Wars series, New Adult romance Changeling’s Crown, and many short stories. She is also a member of the Independent Author Network and the Magic Appreciation Tour. To learn more about this and future releases, visit her at:http://julidrevezzo.com Follow her on
This afternoon, a wake will be held for slain New York City Police Officer, Rafael Ramos. The services for Liu have not been scheduled yet. I would like to take a moment to remind people that, every day cops put on a uniform, they lay their lives on the line to keep us safe. While, of course there are some bad ones, for the most part, the job is an underpaid, thankless position, and the officers who risk their safety to protect citizens are truly heroes.
I have a great amount of respect for the police, as did Elvis. He had an extensive collection of police badges, and used several police officers for security detail. He was friends with many in the Law Enforcement world, including Denver Police Captain Jerry Kennedy. In 1971, Elvis was visiting Denver when Officer Merle Nading was gunned down. Elvis was deeply troubled by the tragedy and donated $5,000 to the Denver Police Department.
Just thought I’d share a brief post in honor of our fallen heroes, in conjunction with my weekly Elvis post.
Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and that 2015 will bring peace and accord in the United States. We are all Americans, and if we turn against one another, that leaves us broken and vulnerable to the enemies who wish to destroy us.
Destiny Calling – The Enchantlings, Volume 1 by Maureen L. Bonatch
Hope doesn’t know if the man she can touch is a dream come true, or a nightmare just beginning
Paranormal Romance from The Wild Rose Press
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor (DCA Graphics)
About Destiny Calling:
Hope only wants to find out if her ability to infuse euphoria or despair with her touch makes her the devil’s spawn, or his exterminator. But when the woman who raised her is murdered by something not human, she loses the only family she knew and discovers one she might wish she hadn’t.
Drawn back to the home town she vowed never to return to, her ability is seen as an asset to everyone but Hope, and she doesn’t know who to trust. Her family wants her to help them overcome an enemy oppressing the human population, while the man of her dreams is courting her for the Underworld.
Time is running out, and Hope’s choice may be made for her, as she discovers she’s a pawn in a bigger game played by a merciless ruler who doesn’t lose.
I strained to release my arm from Griffith’s vise-like grip while scanning the surrounding trees, trying to determine which was less of a threat, the beast of a man holding me or those who might be waiting for me in the woods.
“You will come inside, now.” Griffith spoke slowly and deliberately as if I were a small child.
I batted at the hand Griffith placed on my head. “I’m not a puppy, quit petting me.”
“I will protect you.” Griffith’s warm breath caressed my ear. “If for no other reason, to find out what I’m giving up and why she wants you so badly.”
I inhaled his masculine scent, like musky earth. It washed over my face, and the tension in my jaw released. I stopped struggling. “Are you the devil?” My tongue was thick and heavy so the words came out slurred.
“Not even close.” His words soothed and comforted, like having a weighted blanket cocoon me. Each movement was an effort. It wasn’t the same as the thing in the woods. This was more like the feeling after a long massage or bubble bath.
“It’s not safe.” Griffith wrapped his arms around me, and I rested against his broad chest.
“It’s not safe.” I nodded. My muscles relaxed and my eyelids grew heavy.
“It’s cold. We’re going inside.” Griffith kept his arm supporting me as he steered me toward the house.
“We’re going inside.” I parroted and walked up the steps, leaning heavily on him.
Out of the corner of my eye, something was cautiously moving at the edge of the woods. Branches snapped as whatever was observing us crept closer.
About the Author:
Growing up with four siblings had Maureen familiar with escaping into a good book, or the recesses of her mind. She realized later in life everyone didn’t have characters telling stories in their heads, or weren’t envisioning magic and mayhem within the everyday. This, and long walks in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania spawned a love of writing.
Since her desire to become a Solid Gold Dancer was thwarted when the show was discontinued, Maureen opted to pursue other paths. Attempting to conquer new endeavors proved fruitful with her first novella, while other attempts, such as challenging a fear of heights with parasailing, were unsuccessful.
Therefore she’s chased other interests, though none-the-less-daring, but closer to the ground, such as belly-dancing, becoming a self-proclaimed tequila connoisseur, fulfilling her role as biker babe to her alpha hubby and surviving motherhood to twins (so far).
Penning stories boasting laughter, light suspense and something magical in the hope of sharing her love of finding the extraordinary in the ordinary world.
Book One in an exciting new series from The Wild Rose Press…
Karilyn Bentley with Demon Lore, an urban fantasy novel
Will Gin discover who wants her dead before she becomes the next victim in the ongoing battle?
Fun Fact:
I wrote this book a couple of years ago for a contest my RWA chapter held to meet an agent. The agent didn’t want it, but my publisher did. The original first chapter has been eliminated, a complete rewrite, and it reads a lot better. However, I do like that scene and am trying to decide if I want to place it in another book in the series.
A favorite line or two:
Blue sky peeks through gaps in the leaves as I suck down air into shocked-still lungs. Did I slip on a stone or did Mr. You-Don’t-Need-A-Caffeine-Hit just sweep my feet out from under me?
Christmas was Elvis’ favorite time of year. He was very much a homebody, and he loved Graceland, loved his family and friends. So, gathering at Graceland for the holidays was a special time for him. He was also extremely generous, and Christmas was an opportunity to share his good fortune on a grand scale, although he was generous all year round.
Here are a few photos of his home during the holidays. Graceland still uses the same decorations that Elvis had when he was alive. I have yet to visit his home during the Christmas holiday, but I would love to.
I love Christmas as well, and when I was younger, we used to listen to Elvis Christmas music while we decorated. I carried that tradition into adulthood and my children and I would do the same. It was a sweet, magical time and I cherish the memories.
My favorite performance of my all-time favorite Christmas song, Blue Christmas:
A few years ago, I wrote a very short (only three chapters) Christmas story as part of an anthology with other authors. I’ve inserted my entire story below. Guess what it’s titled? Give up? Blue Christmas! 🙂
I hope you enjoy…Merry Christmas!
*** Warning – Rated PG-13
BLUE CHRISTMAS
by Alicia Dean
Chapter 1
Someone was in the house.
Sophie Winston halted in the doorway, her hand frozen on the knob. A swallow clicked in her dry throat.
She’d turned the lights off before leaving for work that morning. She always did. But the lights were on now, and a man’s jacket was thrown across the back of her easy chair. Why would an intruder leave his jacket lying around? Not a smart move. But dumb or not, the guy could be dangerous.
Her heartbeat pounded through her eardrums. She fumbled her phone from her purse. Before she could dial 911, a man emerged from her kitchen. She screamed and dropped the phone.
“I-I have a gun,” she blurted.
He grinned. “Yeah? So do I.”
Oh God. She was lying, but he probably wasn’t.
She lifted her chin. “I called the police. They’ll be here any second.”
He frowned as if perplexed. “That’s odd since I didn’t hear you speak to anyone and I saw you drop your phone.” He inched closer and crossed his arms over his chest. “I assume Nathaniel didn’t tell you I was coming.”
“Nathaniel?”
“Your fiancé.”
She clenched her teeth. “I know who Nathaniel is. Why would he invite you here?”
He ran a hand through short dark hair. “I’m part of his security team. He sent me here to look out for you.” He reached into his jeans pocket, and she tensed, but when he pulled his hand out, a ring with a lone key dangled from his fingers. “See? He gave me a key. He didn’t tell you about the threats?”
Although she and Nathaniel didn’t live together, they each had a key to the other’s house. The man’s story was starting to sound plausible. But she wasn’t entirely convinced. “What threats?”
As a candidate for State Senate, Nathaniel was often in the public eye, but she’d never known of anyone wanting to harm him. If he’d sent someone all the way to Oklahoma City from Los Angeles to keep an eye on her, he must be concerned.
“It’s just a precaution. These things happen all the time. Some nut bag sent him a threatening email. He thought I should keep an eye on you. Just in case.”
Now that her fear had lessened, she took a moment to study him. He wore jeans and a button down black chambray shirt. The gun resting in a holster on his hip and the steel in his grey eyes made for an odd mixture of danger and sex appeal. Chill bumps raced over her skin, and she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to suppress a shiver.
“I’m sure you won’t object to my calling to confirm your story.” She bent her knees and lowered to retrieve her phone, careful to keep her skirt from hiking up while her gaze remained locked on the intruder.
He inclined his head. “Be my guest.”
She snatched up the phone and rose, then dialed Nathaniel.
“Nathaniel,” she said breathlessly when he answered. “Did you send Mr….” She lifted her brows questioningly at the stranger.
“Cooper,” the man provided. “Chase Cooper.”
Into the phone, she said, “Did you send Mr. Cooper to guard me?”
“Oh God, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I forgot to mention it, didn’t I?” He let out a frustrated sigh. “This campaign has got me going in a thousand different directions. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I received a threatening email, so I sent one of my security guys to stay with you until I get back.”
She closed her eyes, only semi-relieved. Chase Cooper was who he claimed to be, but how the hell was she supposed to live with a complete stranger for an entire week?
“Is it really necessary? I have an alarm system.”
“I’d feel better. Do it for me, please? Give me one less thing to worry about?”
Her heart warmed at the affection in his voice. She missed him. Why couldn’t he be the one here to look out for her? Because, he had a campaign to win. One that had taken up a majority of his time for several months. If she planned to be the wife of a politician, she had to make certain sacrifices. “Sure, yeah. He can stay.”
“Thank you, darling. Love you.”
“Love you.” She hung up and slid the phone back in her purse.
Chase lifted his hands, palms up. “All settled?”
She gave a reluctant nod. “You can put your things in the spare room. It’s down the hall on the left.”
“Already done.”
She didn’t ask how he knew which the spare room was. The man exuded a keen awareness of his surroundings. He likely didn’t miss much. Then, there was the fact that all her things were in her own bedroom. Not many people would miss that piece of evidence.
Moving further into the room, she said. “I’ll go change. I’d planned to make a light dinner for myself. I’ll cook enough for us both.”
“Don’t bother about me. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Easier said than done. His very presence dominated her small living room. She couldn’t pretend he wasn’t here if she lived in a twenty room mansion.
****
Sophie cooked spaghetti and tossed a salad. At her insistence, Chase joined her, and they ate in an uncomfortable silence.
When dinner was over, she said, “I’m going to watch Home Alone. Would you like to watch with me?”
“The movie about the kid whose parents leave him alone at Christmas?”
She nodded. “I usually end up seeing it half a dozen times during the Christmas season.”
“No thanks. I’m not much of a movie watcher. Especially Christmas movies.”
“You don’t like Christmas or just movies about it?”
He pushed away from the table and rose. “I’m not a fan of the holiday.”
“Why not?”
His dark brows drew together in a frown. “Can’t a guy hate a holiday without having a reason?”
She gave him an overly sweet smile. “I suppose so.” Grinch.
Standing, she began stacking plates, but he reached out and took hold of her wrist. His touch elicited a disturbing tingle, and she tugged loose from his hold.
He met her gaze, a small grin playing over his lips, as if he sensed the effect his touch had on her. “I’ll get this. You cooked. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your sappy movie.”
She swallowed, releasing the plates to him. “Thanks.”
An hour later, she was settled in front of the television. Chase wandered around the room, checking locks, studying the alarm pad, periodically moving from one window to the other, peering outside.
She lost track of his movements as the story drew her attention. When it showed the part where Kevin talked to the old man in church, tears clogged her throat, then spilled down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?”
Chase’s deep voice came from over her shoulder where he stood behind the sofa.
She wiped at the tears, embarrassment heating her face. “I always cry at this part.”
“Why do you watch something that makes you cry?”
She twisted to look at him and shrugged. “Because I love the movie. The ending makes it worthwhile.”
“All’s well that ends well, huh? Gotta love those happily ever afters.”
His sarcastic attitude took away her enjoyment of the movie. Pointing the remote at the tv, she clicked the power off and stood.
“I think I’ll turn in now.”
“What time do you go to work in the morning? I’ll take you.”
“Actually, we’re closed until after Christmas.” Thank God. She couldn’t imagine having him show up at work with her, shadowing her every move.
“Oh? What do you do?”
“I work for a printing company. It’s a small operation, family owned. They’re all about the holidays and family time.”
“Works for me. Makes my job easier. I’ll be across the hall. Let me know if you need me.”
****
The next morning after a shower, Sophie wrapped a towel around her body and opened the bathroom door. She glanced up and down the hallway for signs her guest. Seeing none, she headed toward her room.
She’d taken no more than three or four steps when Chase opened his bedroom door. He saw her, then halted, his brows lifting. She tightened her hands around the top of the towel to keep it from slipping.
God. How humiliating. She should have brought a robe, but she was accustomed to being the only one in the house and wasn’t in the habit.
“Sorry.” His voice held no hint of sincerity. “I didn’t know you’d be…less than clothed.”
“I didn’t think you were up yet.”
He nodded. “Apology accepted.”
She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, but fear of dislodging the towel kept her from it. “I didn’t apologize.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Does that mean you’re not sorry?”
She didn’t miss the amusement in his tone. He was toying with her.
His gaze roamed over her body, leaving shivery warmth in its wake. Although she knew she should leave, escape to her bedroom, some unseen force held her rooted in place. Her eyes met his, and an almost tangible burst of electricity passed between them. The sensation was disconcertingly close to desire. Did he feel it too or was her near-nakedness contributing to her wanton thoughts?
Guilt squeezed her heart. How could she react that way to another man? She loved Nathaniel.
But Nathaniel had never looked at her like…like she was a steak he wanted to sink his teeth into. Uninvited, thoughts rose of Chase’s mouth doing other things to her. Irritation sharpened her voice. “Nathaniel hired you to protect me. Not ogle me.”
He chuckled. “Ogle? Did we travel back to 1950 when I wasn’t looking?”
“Excuse me,” she bit out. Stalking past him, she hurried to her bedroom, her skin prickling with the certainty he still stood where he was. Watching her.
She avoided him for most of the day—as much as she could, considering they shared the same too-small house. She busied herself cleaning, catching up on emails, anything to avoid conversation, or a repeat of their uncomfortable encounter that morning.
To prevent being blatantly rude, she invited him to join her for dinner that evening. She cooked chicken and rice, making a mental note to go to the grocery store tomorrow—no doubt accompanied by Chase. She didn’t have enough food in the house for two. She hadn’t planned on entertaining for a week.
He seemed not to share her discomfiture. He tucked into his dinner like he didn’t have a care in the world.
After finishing off a second helping, he leaned back in his chair. “Dinner was great. You’re a good cook.”
“Thank you.” She inwardly glowed at the praise. Nathaniel was seldom in town, and when he was, they usually went out to dinner. It was nice having a man to cook for. Especially one who appreciated it.
“Let me ask you.” He glanced around. “Seeing as you’re such a fan of Christmas, why didn’t you decorate? Put a tree up?”
“I’m waiting for Nathaniel to get home. I don’t want to celebrate until he’s with me.” She smiled. “I can’t wait. It’s one of my favorite parts of the holiday. When we were young, my mother would play Elvis Presley Christmas music while my sister and I helped decorate the tree. There was something so special, so magical about it.”
“Magical? Decorating a symbol of the commercialism of a stressful, hectic holiday is magical?”
She refused to allow his cynicism to get to her. “Surely you have childhood memories about Christmas that warm your heart.”
He pushed back from the table and stood scowling down at her. “What part of I hate Christmas did you not understand?”
She flinched. “Sorry. You brought it up.”
He scraped his hand through his hair. “True. My mistake. Look. I’m here to do a job. Nothing more. If you’re in danger, I’ll protect you, but we don’t have to get all chummy and swap stories, okay?”
“Sure.” Annoyance tightened her jaw. Screw him. She refused to allow this cynical stranger to bother her. Even a little bit.
His head jerked in a nod before he strode from the room.
What an ass. He damn sure didn’t have to worry about her initiating any conversations. She was done with attempts at civility.
She gathered the dishes, trying to focus on thoughts of Nathaniel’s return to sooth her. But the hateful Chase Cooper kept intruding. At least with Nathaniel’s arrival, she’d see the last of him.
Just as she was finishing the dishes, her cell rang.
She smiled when she saw her older sister’s number on the caller ID. “Hey, Kate. How are things in Detroit?”
“Not great.” Her sister’s usual gaiety was absent.
“Has something happened? Are you all right?”
Kate’s sigh came over the line. “I wish I could tell you in person, but I think you need to know now, and I won’t be home for another week.”
“Tell me what?”
“Go to your computer. I’m sending you a link.”
Sophie booted up her laptop and signed onto her email, then clicked on the link Kate sent. It took her to a newspaper article that included a photo of Nathaniel.
Nathaniel kissing another woman.
Chapter 2
The headline read, Senator Nathaniel Bingham Rings in the Holiday with a Ho-Ho-Ho. Where is his Fiancée and is this the Gift she Expected?
Sophie’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, but when she looked at the screen again, the damning photo was still there. Tears strangled her voice. “Oh my God. He’s cheating.”
“I’m sorry, sis.”
“There has to be some explanation. He loves me.”
“What other explanation?”
She wanted to hang up, to cut off her sister’s voice of reason.
But Kate’s reality became her own as she stared at the photo of her fiancé playing tonsil hockey with a tall, curvy blonde. There was only one explanation.
“That son of a bitch.”
“What are you going to do?”
Sophie laughed, but it caught on a sob. “Dump his ass.”
“Good for you. That slime ball. Stay strong. Don’t change your mind before he gets home.”
“I’m not waiting until he gets home. I’m calling him right now.”
“Seriously? Atta girl. Call me if you need to talk. See you soon.”
Sophie jabbed the buttons on her cell so hard, the tip of her finger hurt. As soon as Nathaniel answered, she said, “I saw the photo.”
For several moments, there was only silence. Then, “I don’t have to ask which one.”
An icy chill surrounded her heart. For a second, she hoped he’d offer a plausible explanation, even though there was none. His response made it all too real. “Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”
“I knew there was a chance you would. I hoped you wouldn’t. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“Didn’t mean for me to see it, or didn’t mean to be a cheating bastard?”
He released a sigh. “Both. I met Trudy and…and it just happened. I fell for her. If it makes any difference, I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t.” She was annoyed that pain tightened her voice.
He sounded weary and resigned when he spoke again. “I was hoping I could wait and do this when I got back, but that’s obviously not an option now.”
“Do what?” She let out a humorless laugh. “Wait. You’re ending things with me? No way. You don’t get to do that. I was calling you to tell you it’s over. I’m the one ending things with you.”
“Does it even matter who does it?”
It shouldn’t, but it did. She’d been dumped three times in her twenty-five years. Never had she been the one to call things off. She’d examine later what the hell was wrong with her that she couldn’t hold a man’s interest more than a few months. But this time, she would do the dumping.
“It matters, asshole. We’re through.” The words were at the same time liberating and unbearable. “Just out of curiosity, why did you bother to send Chase Cooper to protect me if you care so little for me?”
“I care a great deal for you. No matter what, I don’t want you hurt by some crazed person with a vendetta against me.”
Her mouth twisted with bitterness. “What happens to me from here on out is none of your concern. I’ll send your bodyguard back to you.” She punched the end button, proud that she waited until she disconnected the call to cry.
She tossed her cell phone aside and stared in rapt, masochistic fascination at the computer screen. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from her fiancé—make that ex-fiancé—and the gorgeous bimbo in his arms. But then, she shouldn’t be all that surprised. There was no way she could compete with someone like Trudy. Unremarkable women such as herself—average-looking, auburn hair, blue eyes set a bit too far apart and a frame that often carried a few extra pounds—would always come in second to stunning blondes who looked like they’d stepped off the cover of Vogue.
“You’re crying again. Another movie?”
She jumped, whirling to see Chase standing behind her. Had he heard her phone call with Nathaniel? There was nothing in his expression, or his words, to indicate he had.
She turned her back to him and shook her head. “Please just go. I want to be alone.”
“Must be a doozy. Let me guess. It’s a Wonderful Life?”
With rage bubbling just beneath the surface and no one else to expend it on, she vaulted from her chair and advanced on him. “I’m not watching a movie. You were right, okay? Christmas sucks. The movies, the stupid trees, the music, it all sucks. And, by the way, you’re fired.”
His eyes widened, and he lifted his hands in surrender. “Chill out, okay? You didn’t hire me, so you can’t fire me. I stay on until Nathaniel tells me the job is over.”
She stood directly in front of him, hands on hips. Her chest rose and fell with the intensity of her anger, although why she was angry at him, she had no idea. “Well, Nathaniel’s a two-timing piece of shit, and I’m no longer in danger since I’m no longer his fiancée, so trust me, your job is over.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry. How did you find out?”
Her eyes flew to his. “You’re not surprised. You knew?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I worked on his security detail before he sent me here. I knew.”
“And you didn’t bother to tell me? To save me the humiliation?”
He smiled with sympathy. How dare he smile at her with sympathy.
“Would it have been less humiliating if a total stranger had told you your fiancé was cheating?”
No, it wouldn’t have been, but that was beside the point. “I expect you to be gone as soon as you can make arrangements. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bottle of wine that needs my attention.” She went to brush past him, and he took hold of her arm, stopping her.
“Drowning your sorrows?”
She looked down at his hand, then back up at him, shaking off his touch. “No, celebrating. After all, it’s the holiday season, right?”
****
The wine bottle wasn’t quite full, so it disappeared quickly. The only other alcohol in the house was half a bottle of vodka.
Note to self, buy more liquor.
Not bothering with a glass—or a jacket—Sophie took the vodka out on the patio and plopped into a chair. Snow drifted down, and she lifted her face, letting the cold drops melt on her skin. She loved snow. When she and Kate were little, they’d build snowmen and her mom would make snow ice cream. She looked at the bottle in her hand. Could one make vodka- flavored snow ice cream? Surely there was some kind of recipe involving vodka and snow. Vodka came from Russia, right? It snowed in Russia all the time.
She giggled and tipped the bottle to her lips, taking a long pull. The liquor burned, and she coughed, then shuddered.
The patio door slid open. She didn’t bother to turn around. She knew who it was.
“What the hell are you doing out here? It’s freezing. You’re not even wearing a coat.”
“I’m coating my insides,” she slurred. “With this.” She lifted the bottle over her head.
Chase came around to stand in front of her. “You switched to vodka. Is that a good idea?”
She stood, intending to explain why it was a perfect idea, but the quick movement made her head spin. She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her forehead until the dizziness passed.
“Sticking with wine would be a better idea if I hadn’t run out.” She was pleased to note her words were slow, deliberate. Barely slurred at all. “That unfortunate circumstance made switching to vodka an excellent idea.”
“You’re already drunk. And you’re shivering. Here.” He took off his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders, then pulled the edges together under her chin. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Your jacket makes me feel warmer than the vodka did. Wearing it is kind of like when you touch me. I get this hot, tingly feeling.” She shoved her hair out of her face and looked up at him. “Weird, huh?”
He didn’t respond. Half his face was illuminated by the glow through the patio door, the other half in shadows. The rhythm of his breathing changed. She could hear the shift in the quiet of the drifting snow.
“Yeah, weird,” he finally said, his voice a raspy whisper. “Come on. Come inside.”
She let him lead her into the house where she dropped onto the sofa and took another swig of vodka. This one made her shudder, but it didn’t cause her to cough like the last time.
Chase took the bottle from her hand. “You’ve had enough. Maybe you should go to bed. Sleep it off.”
She peered up at him through a blur of tears. “Can you sleep off a broken heart?”
He smiled and reached down to cup her face in his palm. “Time will take care of the pain.”
She resisted the urge to close her eyes and stroke his hand with her cheek like a satisfied cat. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Pushing unsteadily to her feet, she slid his jacket off and let him lead her to her bedroom. As soon as she reached the doorway, her stomach clenched and nausea hiccupped in her throat. “Oh God,” she whispered.
Chase took hold of her shoulders and turned her toward the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet in time. He squatted next to her and pulled her hair back from her face while she heaved her guts out. In between bouts of vomiting, her cheeks burned with humiliation. She wanted to tell him to go away, but each time she opened her mouth to speak, she got sick again.
When the episodes finally passed, she dropped onto her butt, looking down at the floor so she didn’t have to face him. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him stand. Good. He was going away. Leaving her alone to wallow in her mortification.
She heard water running from the faucet. In moments, he returned and placed a cool, wet wash cloth on her forehead. He took her arm and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I need to brush my teeth. You’ll have to step out.”
He laughed. “I just watched you puke for half an hour, but you don’t want me in here while you brush your teeth?”
It didn’t make sense, even to her. But for some reason, the action seemed a little too…familiar. “Please.”
“Okay. Sure.”
He stepped outside the door. When she was done, she came out of the bathroom and let him guide her to her room. She took off her shoes, but remained fully clothed and climbed into bed.
Chase pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Goodnight. Get some rest.”
“Thanks, Chase. I’m glad you’re here.”
He chuckled and brushed the hair back from her face. “Drinking makes you a lot nicer.”
She might have said something in return, but she couldn’t be sure because, in moments, she was asleep.
****
Oh God, just let me die. Sophie winked her eyes open and quickly closed them. The room spun, so she opened them again, groaning in misery.
Was she still drunk? Her stomach roiled, and shards of pain pierced her skull. She’d had hangovers before, but this was the mother of all hangovers.
The door eased back. Chase stepped inside, holding a glass.
The memories of last night came rushing back, and her cheeks heated. He must be disgusted. Annoyed, appalled, and ready to get the hell away from her. Yet here he was.
He sauntered over and eased down on the edge of her bed. “Here, this should make you feel better.”
Warily, she eyed the reddish orange milky concoction he thrust toward her.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a makeshift hangover cure. You didn’t have everything I needed, so I had to improvise.”
“What’s in it?”
“A lot of stuff that’s good for you. Just drink it.”
She took the glass and brought it to her lips. The first sip made her gag. “Ugh. I can’t drink that. It tastes like fruity vitaminy milk.”
“Something like that. Quit being a baby and drink it. Trust me. It’ll help.”
Because she would have drunk pure gasoline if she thought it would help, she obeyed.
She emptied the glass and, surprisingly, felt marginally better almost immediately.
“Where did you learn to make that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Picked it up somewhere. I also heard that taking a shower and alternating between cold and hot water helps.” A wicked grin curved his mouth. “I’ll volunteer to man the faucets.”
She managed a smile. “I think I can handle that one my own, but thanks for the offer.”
“Any time. I’ve made you breakfast. It’s a good idea to get something solid in your stomach. You feel up to going to the kitchen, or you want me to serve you breakfast in bed?”
She frowned in confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”
He grinned. “I figure after what you’ve been through, you need someone to be nice to you. Even if it comes from an ogling, Christmas hating Grinch.”
His words coaxed another smile from her. “Look, I’ll make sure Nathaniel gives you your full pay, but I really don’t need a bodyguard—babysitter—any longer. I just want to be alone.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be. Not just yet. Is there someone I can call for you? I get why you don’t want me hanging around. A stranger isn’t much comfort at a time like this.”
She thought of his tenderness, the way he’d taken care of her last night. Crazy as it sounded, being with him didn’t feel like being with a stranger. But it was time for him to go. Before she did something stupid, like mistook his caring for real feelings, and made even more of a fool of herself.
“I can call my friend, Rayna. She’ll keep me company.”
He stood and took the glass from her. “Good. I’ll pack. Eat your breakfast, then call her. I’ll wait until she gets here to leave.”
She ignored the pang in her heart at the thought of never seeing him again. Totally irrational. In spite of his not feeling like a stranger, that’s exactly what he was. “You’ve got a good heart, Grinch.”
“You think so? I’ve been told it’s two sizes too small.”
Beneath the nonchalant smile and flip words, she detected pain. He’d been hurt too.
When he opened the door to leave, the aroma of bacon wafted in, making her stomach grumble. She hadn’t noticed before. Probably because she was too focused on her hangover…and Chase. But now she was starving. She quickly showered, then dressed in sweat pants and a tee shirt.
In the kitchen, she found scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the stove. She smiled. Who’d have thought Chase had a domestic side. She ate as much of the breakfast as she could force down, then dialed Rayna. Chase obviously wouldn’t be satisfied that his duties were over until she had company.
“Hey,” she said when Rayna answered. “If you’re not doing anything, can you come over? I could use a friend.”
“I’m sorry, sweets. I’m in Tulsa. I can come over tomorrow when I’m back in town. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. Too much to go into over the phone.”
“Okay, see you soon. Merry Christmas.”
Bah freakin’ humbug.
“Merry Christmas to you.”
Chapter 3
Chase insisted on staying until Rayna arrived. Sophie felt bad about imposing, but in spite of her telling Nathaniel she’d send his bodyguard back, he hadn’t called to officially release Chase from his duties. At least he would be paid for his time.
Later that evening, Sophie pulled back the patio curtains so she could enjoy the snow that had been falling steadily all day. A few inches had already accumulated, and the weather reports indicated a few more were expected by morning. The perfect setting for a perfect Christmas…or would have been if her jackass ex hadn’t totally ruined it for her.
She missed Kate. Missed her mother. She’d never known her father. He died when she was an infant. Her mom had moved to Florida so they only saw her every couple of years. Kate wouldn’t be home until the day after Christmas. Like this holiday didn’t already suck enough.
Sophie felt rather than heard Chase walk up behind her. That special tingly warmth she’d come to associate with him trickled over her skin.
“Sorry your friend can’t make it until tomorrow.”
She looked at his reflection in the frosted glass. “I’m sorry too.”
He settled his hands on her shoulders, and she tensed against the yearning that slithered through her.
“Is it so terrible that I’ll be here one more night?”
His husky voice vibrated through her system. She was tempted to lean into his touch. Only a few short inches separated her from his warm, strong body.
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Maybe it should be. But for some reason, it’s not.”
His breath caught. She wasn’t sure if he’d applied pressure to turn her around, or if she’d done so on her own, but suddenly she was looking up into eyes that were now a stormy grey.
He tilted his head forward, and she raised her face to accept his kiss. His mouth was gentle as he coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside. She moaned and linked her hands behind his neck.
He moved his hands down to her hips, tugged her tightly against his body, pressing forward until she was against the cool glass of the patio door. Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down the sensitive flesh of her neck. A shiver of delight skittered over her flesh.
“Wow,” she murmured. “How did this happen?”
“I’m not sure,” he growled against her skin. “Maybe I’m the rebound guy.”
She cupped his face in her hands and lifted until he was looking at her. “Are you okay with that?”
He quirked a grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Some emotion came and went in his eyes so quickly she couldn’t identify it. Then his lips were back on hers and she no longer cared…no longer thought about anything except the delicious sensation of his mouth moving over hers, then down to her throat, her breasts…his hands shoving her tee shirt up, his fingers scorching heat along the skin of her lower back.
He pulled her with him, and they stumbled through the living room, not releasing contact, but still managing to shed their clothes.
In her bedroom, he pushed her gently onto the mattress. A brief flash of Nathaniel’s face popped into her mind, but Chase’s touch soon erased it. All coherent thought fled until there was only this moment, only the two of them locked together as snow fell against the darkened windows in a world gone silent, other than the sounds of harsh breathing and moans of pleasure as she gave herself completely to a man she’d only met a few days ago, but seemed to have known a lifetime.
****
Sophie thought she’d wake up filled with regret, but when she opened her eyes to find Chase’s handsome face on the pillow next to hers, relaxed in sleep, the only thing she felt was contentment.
Easing out of bed, she threw a robe on and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. While it brewed, she picked up their scattered clothing, a grin curving her lips as she recalled the haste in which they’d shed them. When she picked up Chase’s pants, his wallet fell out, the contents spilling to the floor.
A yellowed square of paper caught her attention. She unfolded it to reveal a newspaper article. The headline read, Christmas Eve Murder-Suicide Leaves Ten-Year-Old Boy Parentless. Sickness coiled in her stomach. The article didn’t mention the boy’s name, but that wasn’t hard to figure out. The parents’ last name was Cooper. The father shot his wife before taking his own life next to the Christmas tree. The boy had found them on Christmas morning.
“Oh, God,” she choked out.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She jumped at the sound of Chase’s voice, dropping the newspaper clipping. He stood scowling at her, wearing black sweatpants he must have grabbed from his room. His bare chest heaved with angry breaths.
“I—I’m sorry. It fell out of your wallet.” She was horrified, sickened, broken-hearted just from reading the article. She couldn’t imagine how Chase must have felt. He’d lived it.
“You had no right.” His voice was deadly quiet. He glared at her, his steely gaze filled with venom.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“
A snarl twisted his lips. “Now you know. Poor, tragic Chase Cooper. I guess that little romp was a way to erase both our holiday blues for a few minutes. Thanks for that.” He bent and snatched his clothing from the floor. “I’ll stay out of your way until your friend gets here.”
“Chase. I—“
“Save it. The Grinch and Mary Poppins make a bad match anyway.”
The ache that filled her heart now was different from when she learned Nathaniel cheated. It was deeper. And didn’t feel like it would go away any time soon.
How had she come to care so much for someone she barely knew? Maybe it was because, in spite of his gruff, tough guy exterior, he’d shown her a gentleness that Nathaniel seemed incapable of. Was it possible she hadn’t truly loved Nathaniel?
A thought occurred that she quickly shoved away. A small snort escaped. No way in hell had she fallen in love with Chase. It wasn’t possible. And it damn sure wasn’t smart.
No words were exchanged between them for the next few hours as they waited for Rayna. When she arrived, Chase politely introduced himself, then left without saying goodbye. The sound of the door closing echoed through Sophie’s aching heart. That was it. No more Chase. She’d never see him again. Why did the thought hurt so much?
“Who was that?” Rayna asked. “What’s going on?”
Sophie filled her in over coffee and poured out her misery.
“God.” Rayna shook her head. “You’ve had a rough week.”
Sophie let out a shaky laugh. “You might say that. Listen, you don’t have to stay with me. Chase didn’t want me to be alone, but I’m fine. I’m sure you have holiday plans.”
“Nothing until Christmas day. I’ll hang here until then. We haven’t had a slumber party in years.”
Sophie nodded, secretly grateful for her friend’s company. The only thing that could make the days leading up to Christmas more miserable would be if she spent them alone.
Over the next few days, they ordered in pizza and Chinese food, watched movies, and talked about old times. Rayna thought decorating would lift Sophie’s spirits, and she offered to help, but Sophie declined. Her heart just wasn’t in it.
By Christmas Eve morning, Sophie was going stir crazy. “How about we get out of the house?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Shopping. Driving around looking at Christmas decorations. Anything. I’ve been cooped up inside for days.”
Rayna’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Cooped up with Cooper doesn’t sound all that bad.”
Sophie groaned. “How about if we don’t talk about him? About either him?”
“Deal. Let’s go shop away your blues.”
The idea was a horrible one. Rather than cheering her up, the symbols of what had once been her favorite holiday only made her sink deeper into sadness.
On the car ride home, Sophie said, “Sorry I’m so pathetic. I promise I’m not going to turn into some maudlin creature pining for my lost love.”
Rayna glanced at her and lifted her brows. “Which love would you be pining for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen the way your face changes when you talk about Chase. I’ve never seen that look when you talked about Nathaniel, not even when you were with Nathaniel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly even know him.” But it certainly didn’t feel that way. It felt as though she’d lost something vital to the very air she breathed. She inhaled deeply and released a heavy sigh. She’d better get used to it. Chase was gone. For good. She forced a smile for her friend. “I promise I’ll be good as new for the new year. I just need to get through what’s suddenly become a depressing holiday.”
“The asshole who stole Christmas.”
Sophie laughed, a rusty sound that hurt her heart.
They pulled into Sophie’s driveway at six o’clock on Christmas Eve. The houses in the neighborhood were lit with colorful lights, save one. Hers stood dark and dismal. A fitting companion for her state of mind.
“Want me to come in?” Rayna offered.
“No, thanks. Your family is waiting for you.”
“You could come stay with me and join us for Christmas dinner.”
“I don’t think so. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”
“I haven’t been alone in weeks. I think maybe I need to be.” She grimaced. “If only to exorcise the demons.”
Rayna leaned over the console and hugged her tightly. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I know. Thanks.”
When Sophie stepped onto the porch, the sound of music reached her ears. Her gaze swept the adjoining yards. Nothing. Was it coming from inside her house? How could that be?
She turned her key in the lock and pushed the door open. She halted, sucking in a breath.
A brightly decorated tree stood in front of the patio door. Red ribbons and gold bells were strung across her living room, and a Poinsettia sat on each of her end tables. “Blue Christmas” by Elvis played on the stereo. Chase rose from where he sat on the sofa.
A knot lodged in her throat when he walked slowly toward her, stopping just inches away. His expression held a hint of hope and uncertainty.
“Too much?” he asked. “It’s the poinsettias, right? I knew that was too much.”
She shook her head. “Oh my God. What have you done?”
His eyes searched hers, the intensity in his gaze stealing her breath. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry for being such an ass. Nathaniel took Christmas away from you. I’m giving it back.”
She swallowed and shook her head again, unable to believe this was real. That he was here. “But…you hate Christmas.”
“I always did.” His voice was low, husky. “But that was before I met you. After I left, I went to a hotel. I didn’t have the energy or desire to book a flight back to L.A. There was no way I would work for Nathaniel again. Speaking of which. He called. The guy who sent the email was his mistresses’ ex. They have him in custody.”
“That’s a relief,” she said, although a small part of her wished the ex had at least had the opportunity to punch Nathaniel’s cheating face in.
Chase took her hand, circling his thumb on the skin along her inner wrist. Heat moved through her veins.
“I tried to stay away, but everywhere I looked, the world seemed to be spewing Christmas. It occurred to me that now it made me think of you. And that just felt…right.”
“You did all this. For me?” She shook her head and looked around. “And you did it really fast.”
He grinned. “I was a man on a mission. I didn’t know your favorite Elvis Christmas song, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with “Blue Christmas,” right?”
“Never.” She was barely able to breathe out the word. Her head swam. Chase…the decorations…his words, all felt like a dream…a crazy, wonderful, impossible dream.
“Say you’ll give us a chance and my Christmases will never be blue again.”
She choked out a tearful laugh. “That might be one of the cheesiest lines of all time.”
“Yeah, but did it work?”
“Oh, it worked, Mr. Grinch. It worked just fine.”
His cupped her face between his palms. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, then lowered his head to claim her mouth in a kiss that melted her bones and wiped away the last remnants of her holiday gloom.
Author Alicia Dean 