Thursday, December 5, 2013

Sandcastles of Love only 99 cents!


Now is the time, this chilly December, to get your beach fix! Sand castles of Love, my first Young adult romance with Books We Love, is only 99 cents for a short time on Amazon.





Link: http://amzn.com/B004X6Z9RQ

When Logan Becker’s family embarks on a summer “house swapping” vacation in a beach town in Oregon, Logan is overjoyed. Similarly, Tricia Merrit, the daughter of the other family, is thrilled to be in the farm belt of Minnesota. 

Logan falls in love with the beach boy surfer of her dreams, but soon she discovers he’s Tricia’s boyfriend. Logan’s dreams are shattered. Meanwhile, there’s another boy who is attracted to Logan—the totally uncool Grant Duncan who is busy trying to launch a campaign to clean the local beaches. Can Logan come to realize that true love often reveals itself in unexpected ways?

“A wonderful story of a summer romance with interesting twists and turns...” Reviewed by Michelle Poulson-vick at Sharpwriter Reviews
“Ms. Voeller’s talent is superb, and I was impressed with her ability to write as if she were the actual teenager in the book. Sandcastles of Love is a light-hearted young adult romance that’s attention grabbing, well-written, and charming.” Reviewed by JB Leese, A Story Weaver

"Charming story of young love and summer romances. Perfect for a lazy day in the sun." Judith Pittman

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Dummy & Me! Only 99 cents!


New Kindle Countdown! Grab this YA book for only 99 cents within the next couple of days before the price gradually climbs back to the original 2.99.



Dummy & Me (Books We Love Young Adult Romance) [Kindle Edition]

Sydell Voeller 

Digital List Price:$2.99 What's this? 
Kindle Price:$0.99
You Save:$2.00 (67%)

Kindle Countdown Deal

Price goes up to $2.99 in
6 days

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Night Owl reviews rates Free to Love! (Books We Love)

Check out my great review for Free to Love from Night Owl reviews:


http://www.nightowlreviews.com/v5/Reviews/Melodyreads-reviews-Free-To-Love-by-Sydell-Voeller


Joanna is a young widow who is trying to move on with her life after her husband, Kyle, died while doing the job he loved, being a fire fighter.  In order to move on, she decides to move back to her hometown where her Aunt Marcella lives.  She secures a job at a local aquarium and decides to repair a broken duplex.  Finally when she thinks she could move on, Austin, Kyle’s brother shows up in town.  Austin offers to help her with the repairs and she reluctantly agrees.  But Austin resemblance to Kyle is too much for her.  Everything about Austin reminds her of Kyle.  Every day they are together she begins to fall in love with him.  But does she really love him for him or does she love him because he resembles her dead husband?
This book is a quick and clean read.  I really like the fact that this book doesn’t have any graphics scene which makes the story sweeter in my opinion. So if you are looking for a quick and sweet story, this is for you.  Austin and Joanna are attracted to each other but they can’t be with each other.  For Joanna, she feels like she’s betraying Kyle by loving Austin and for Austin, he blames himself for the death of Kyle because he encourages Kyle to follow his heart and be a fire fighter.  The death of her husband is devastating to her and the loss is unbearable.  Throughout the book, I can feel Joanna’s pain.  She loves her husband so much that she doesn’t take off their wedding ring even after time has passed and she feels guilty when she is attracted to another man who happens to be Austin.  Both of them suppress their feelings they have for each other because they respect Kyle.  It is very sad to see them like that because throughout the book, we can see they love and care about each other.  This was a quick read for me because the story is pretty short and once I started to read it, I finished it after a couple hours.   It’s a very sweet and heart-warming story for me.



Thursday, November 28, 2013

Book Blitz at ebookreviewgal.com

My book bliitz at ebookreviewgal.com begins today through December 1. More good news! The Heart Leads Home is free on Amazon today and tomorrow www.amazon.com/Heart-Leads-Home-Sydell-Voeller-ebook/dp/B00DFAVVAK/ref=sr_1_9?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1385648220&sr=1-9
Banner created by Susan at ebookreviewgal.com

Friday, November 22, 2013

Free to Love Featured Today at The Fussy Librarian

My book, Free to Love, is being featured Friday at The Fussy Librarian, a new website that offers personalized ebook recommendations. You choose from 40 genres and indicate preferences about content and then the computers work their magic. It's pretty cool -- check it out! www.TheFussyLibrarian.com



Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Fisherman's Daughter Featured on Freebooksy


Hi Everyone,

I'm happy to announce that my romantic suspense novel The Fisherman's Daughter has been featured on
the Freebooksy website today.

Please check it out at the follow link:

http://freebooksy.com/freebooks/2013/11/7/free-romance-and-womens-fiction-kindle-books


I'm a featured author at Freebooksy

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Reclaim My Heart by Donna Fasano Book Blast November 12

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Now with Montlake Romance - Release Day TODAY 12 November, 2013
On becoming a Montlake Author:
Let me tell you about my wonderful publishing experience! I have to back up a little bit… to this past spring. I self-published a romance titled Reclaim My Heart. The book received great reviews immediately, and it sold well from the beginning. Very well. In fact, during the first week of August I was enjoying a mug of coffee while perusing the USA Today Bestseller's List (my usual Thursday morning routine), and I nearly choked when I saw that Reclaim My Heart was sitting at #123 on the list. A couple of days later I was contacted by an editor from Montlake. She told me she'd read one of my books months before and had been keeping an eye on me. She said she'd read Reclaim My Heart and loved it. Now, what author doesn't love to hear that? She made an offer I couldn't refuse. The Montlake editor and the design team loved the cover that was on the indie version of the book; however, Amazon had trouble licensing the rights to the image. So we searched for weeks before finding the picture that's on the current cover. I love it! And I hope my readers do, too. I'm happy to be writing romance novels for Montlake. I feel wanted and appreciated, and it can't get much better than that in the publishing industry!
~Donna
 
Reclaim My Heart by Donna Fasano Cover photo 91D5bs609NL_SL1500__zpsbe57f93f.jpg
Title: Reclaim My Heart Author: Donna Fasano Publisher: Montlake Romance Pages: 282 Formats: Paperback, eBook, AudioCD ISBN: 978-1477817988 Purchase Now: Paperback § eBook § AudioCD About The Book : Sixteen years ago, Tyne Whitlock cut all ties to her past and left town under the shameful shadow of a teenage pregnancy. Now her fifteen-year-old son is in trouble with the law, and she is desperate for help. But reaching out to high-powered attorney Lucas Silver Hawk will tear open the heart-wrenching past in ways Tyne never imagined. Forced to return to the Delaware Indian community where Lucas was raised, Tyne and Lucas are tempted by the heated passion that consumed them as teens. Tyne rediscovers all the reasons she found this man irresistible, but there are scandalous secrets waiting to be revealed, disgraceful choices made in the past that cannot be denied. Love is a powerful force that could heal them both—if the truth doesn't rip them apart.  
Excerpt
From Chapter Two"Please, Lucas." He couldn't dismiss the tone of those two small words, nor could he ignore the magnitude of emotion clouding her expression. He had no choice but to relent. "Sit down," he murmured. He closed the door of his office and then returned to perch himself on the corner of his desk. He steeled himself before asking, "What's on your mind?" She seemed to shrink a little as a thousand thoughts ran though her head. Seconds passed, and still she didn't speak. Lucas witnessed the phenomenon almost on a daily basis. The people who wound up in his office often felt as if they were carrying the world on their shoulders. He knew her anxiety would eventually discharge, and from the looks of it, he wouldn't have to wait long. Finally, she pressed her hand to her chest. "I can't breathe." "Relax. Do you want some water?" She shook her head, a lock of her long, platinum hair falling over her forearm. "No. I need to get this out. I promised you I'd hurry." He couldn't keep his brows from arching a fraction. She hadn't kept her promises in the past. Why would he expect her to now? Tyne ran her tongue along her full bottom lip, hesitated another moment, then blurted, "I need a lawyer." Lucas closed his eyes and stifled a sigh. He could have guessed as much, of course. He'd worked hard to get himself into the privileged position of being able to pick and choose his clients. The last person he wanted to represent was Tyne Whitlock. "A good lawyer, Lucas." Common sense told him Tyne wasn't attempting to flatter him. She was speaking purely out of desperation. "Look, Tyne—" Something made him stop. He sighed, and then he stood, taking his time rounding his desk and sitting down. The leather-upholstered arms of the chair were cool and smooth under his fingertips. "I know some of the best attorneys in the city." He plucked a pen from the cup on his desktop. "And many of them owe me a favor or two." He reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out one of the business cards he always kept handy, and turned it over, poised to write. "Let me give you some names and numbers—" "I don't want just any attorney." Her chin lifted. "I want you. Why else would I have come here?" His gaze lowered to the small white card in his hand. With much deliberation, he set down the pen and the card, and then he looked her directly in the eyes. Every muscle in her body appeared board-stiff. "Listen to me—" he kept his tone calm "—when people find themselves in trouble with the law, or victimized, or wrongfully sued, or unjustly accused, they tend to get lost in a strange, I don't know, franticness. A recklessness that they almost always regret. Believe me when I tell you that no situation is hopeless, and circumstances are rarely as desperate as they might be perceived. Whatever trouble you're in, don't let panic and fear haze your thinking." "You don't understand." "I think I do," he rushed to assure her. "I see it every day. Honest, hardworking people finding themselves in dire straits. And this unfamiliar territory throws them. They grasp at help from the first source that comes to mind." "But—" "Just like that old adage warning that only a fool acts as his own lawyer, it's also foolish to choose an attorney in haste. You and I have a past, Tyne, and even though all of that took place years and years ago, the fact remains that we have a history. I don't believe I would be the best person to represent you in a court of law. You need someone who'll be totally unbiased. Let me give you some names. I'll make some calls for you myself—" "Stop!" She lifted her hands and scooted to the edge of the seat. "You don't understand. And I can't make you understand if you won't shut up for a minute." His eyebrows arched and the frustration in her statement had him leaning back a bit. She frowned. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I had to stew all day yesterday." She fisted her hands in her lap. "I didn't expect to reach anyone on a Sunday, but do you know that your firm doesn't offer an emergency number on the answering machine?" She exhaled with force. "I'm a nervous wreck just being here. Seeing you. But all that aside, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Please accept my apology." He didn't react, didn't move. He just waited for her to continue. "The thing is… what you need to know…" Once again, she grew terribly cautious, and Lucas found that extremely curious. What the hell was it she found so hard to tell him? What kind of trouble was she in? She blanched, but then her spine straightened. "I'm not the one who needs a lawyer. I want to hire you, yes. But I'm not the one needing representation. It's my son who's in trouble." A nerve at the corner of her eye ticked, but her gaze never veered from his as she added, "Our son, Lucas."

About Donna Fasano

Donna Fasano is a three time winner of the HOLT Medallion, a CataRomance Reviewers Choice Award winner for Best Single Title, a Desert Rose Golden Quill Award finalist, and a Golden Heart finalist. Her books have sold over 3.6 million copies worldwide and have been published in nearly two dozen languages. Her books have made the Kindle Top 100 Paid List numerous times, climbing as high as #17. What others are saying about Donna’s books: “…complex, funny, and realistic…” ~Wilmington News Journal “Excellent!” ~Bookreview.com “Could not help myself from reading excerpts to my husband and friends. This book is well written, the characters are real, everyday folks. It is very easy to identify with them. Donna Fasano is a talented author.” ~Elizabeth M. Caldwell on Amazon “…a fast paced riotous look at family life today. Donna Fasano is right on target!” ~Donna Zapf, SingleTitles.com

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Friday, October 4, 2013

A Few Lines from Mystic Mountains by Tricia McGill

This week, a few lines from Mystic Mountains by Tricia McGill "So, you're filling out a bit, I see." He tightened his grip just below her breasts. "A full belly hasn't improved your temper though. Now, be still, little bundle. I'm your master an' I have the right to do as I like with you." "Do as you like?" Isabella squirmed away from him. With violently shaking hands she straightened her skirt. Her cheeks flamed when she looked up to see he watched her every movement closely, as if it was his right. The twinkle in his eyes made her temper rise. "I'll kill myself if you take what you see as your rights. Anyway, what would you want with the likes of me when you have so many other women chasing after you?" "Oho, so you've heard the tales of my exploits with the fair sex, have you? I feel I must set you straight on that account. There aren't that many. But you're right on one thing. I wouldn't fancy you in a fit. I prefer my women to be amenable." He placed his hands on his hips, returning her stare with the arrogance that set her teeth on edge. "Then I'm saved from a fate worse than death, for amenable I'll never be." Isabella stepped out of his reach. But to her horror he made a grab for her, grasping her hand. She tugged but he refused to release it. "Now then, which fruit did you want?" he asked, his tone now quite pleasant. "Perhaps I can reach it without resorting to climbing the tree." Isabella stared at him, then pointed to a bunch within easy reach for him. "That one, and those there." She breathed a small sigh of relief when he finally let her go then reached up to pluck them. "Hold out your apron," he ordered, dropping the apples in. "There, will that satisfy Thelma?" Pulling free the cloth tied round his neck, he used it to wipe his brow. As he retied it he watched her like a cat stares at a cornered mouse. "I ... I think so." Isabella gathered her apron to her chest and turned to flee, but he caught her by the arm again. "Bella. Satisfy my curiosity, will you?" His soft tone made her suspicious. She watched him cautiously. "How?" "Are you happy here in my household?" he asked softly, those strange eyes of his searching hers. "As happy as any woman can be working for an Englishman." That was a dreadful lie, for she'd seldom been happier. "You're not yet a woman, Bella. You have a lot to learn about how real women behave." She disagreed, but wasn't about to go into that argument now. Mystic Mountains is available here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EFE5UL6

Friday, September 27, 2013

Inside Books We Love: A Few Lines from . . . Diane Bator

Inside Books We Love: A Few Lines from . . . Diane Bator: A Few Lines from The Bookstore Lady by Diane Bator   ...

A Few Lines from Diane Bator

A Few Lines from The Bookstore Lady by Diane Bator When the hunched over, balding pharmacist next door called out, “Good morning, Katie,” her hand flinched and her heart raced. It took her nearly a full minute to remember she’d been Katie Mullins for two months and she’d better answer before he got offended. “Hi.” She nodded. The drugstore opened at eight every morning and it was now quarter to ten. Must have been a slow morning if he had time to stand in the doorway with a large cup of coffee rather than hanging out behind the back counter. “You’d best convince Ray to get some air-conditioning for that store before your new books curl up and warp. It’s beyond me how he’s never lost half his books every summer.” “Dust absorbs the humidity.” She smiled wryly. “I don’t think we can afford air-conditioning this year.” “I know a guy who’ll give you a quote. He’s not bad looking once you get past the bug eyes and scars. I can call him, if you’d like.” “Maybe some other time.” Like when hell froze over. He waved and went back into the drugstore. Katie drew in a deep breath. The air was fresh from last night’s rain and the hint of a breeze mussed her hair. In two months, the only thing to find her was the sunshine and a case of withdrawals that made renovations hell. Nate, bless his heart, had had more compassion while she fought “the flu” than any man she’d ever met. She blew a strand of stray copper hair out of her mouth and jiggled the door lock. Another thing that needed to be fixed before winter. She should have done it during renovations, but it hadn’t seemed as important as books and workmen. Luckily, Nate worked cheap and she hadn’t had to dig into the money from Dunnsforth. The money was tucked up in a box in the backroom, fastened with half a roll of duct tape. She’d ask him to fix the lock when he delivered her order later. The door opened with a groan. “It’s about time.” Available at: http://www.amazon.com/The-Bookstore-Lady-ebook/dp/B00DWKNGPQ/ Tricia McGill follows with A Few Lines next week. Diane Bator Website: http://penspaintsandpaper.com Blog: http://dbator.blogspot.ca/

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Free at Amazon Sept. 25-29 ~ A House Divided by Sydell Voeller Rebecca Lorenzo, the young widow of a Hollywood actor who was killed by a crazed fan, is struggling to raise their young daughter, Wendy. Rebecca is embittered that God allowed her precious husband to die. She has turned her back on Him. Rebecca and Wendy move from L.A. to Rebecca's hometown on the Oregon coast. Due to a miscommunication, Rebecca mistakenly believes she can buy a Victorian house there. She hopes to cocoon herself in the security of her "safe" hometown. Rebecca meets the handsome, enigmatic homeowner, Mark Simons, and learns of his plans to tear down the house. Mark, a psychiatrist, is attempting to raise money to build a halfway house on the property, and he is admittedly a workaholic. He believes this project is God's will for him. Mark refuses to budge when Rebecca approaches him about selling the house. As Rebecca and Mark struggle to battle their individual demons from the past, they also struggle to resist their growing love for each other. "A heartwarming and memorable story. I was drawn to the story from the beginning, with very realistic characters and situations. Mark and Rebecca struggle with their respective pasts in and their faith in a very positive way. The characters were well developed, the plot was fast paced and never boring. This story is an inspiration to us all. Bravo, Sydell Voeller!" ~ 5 Stars, Lettetia, Amazon Reader and Vine Voice Member "A HOUSE DIVIDED is a two-character driven inspirational tale that focuses on the differing needs between a pair in love that though powerful seems not strong enough as each has not yet contended with tragedy in their pasts. The story line focuses on the struggles of the present relationship to cope with what has scarred their respective hearts..." ~ 4 Stars, Harriet Klausner, Amazon Hall of Fame Reviewer http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008PN9ONI/

Friday, September 20, 2013

A Few Lines from Victoria Chatham


Friday, September 20, 2013
A Few Lines From . . . VIctoria Chatham



A FEW LINES from  COLD GOLD by Victoria Chatham

“Well, look ‘ee here!” The first rider grinned at her, revealing a mouthful of stained and crooked teeth that reminded her of broken tombstones. “New blood in town.”

“Hello, fancy lady,” the second rider said. “You goin’ to share a drink wi’ me before we share somethin’ else?”

The other riders dismounted and gathered around her, jostling Serena until her back flattened against the wall of the saloon. Her mouth quickly dried up. Her heart pounded. She smelled their sour breath and sweat-stained clothes, felt their anticipation and wished she had paid more attention to Sheriff Johnson’s warning.

“Oy, you lot!” Every head turned at the strident tone of a woman’s distinctly English voice. “Jasper, you idiot, you don’t know a real lady when you see one. Cal, you wouldn’t know what to do with one anyway. Tom, Walt, Clarence, stand back and give the lady some room. Clear off, the lot a’ ya.”

Grumbling, the men turned away and walked into the saloon. Serena closed her eyes and sighed with relief.

“Are you stupid, or what?”

Serena pushed off the wall and faced her rescuer. The force of the expression in the woman’s blue eyes almost caused her to take a step back again.

“I...I wasn’t thinking,” she stuttered.

“That was perfectly obvious,” the other woman retorted. “Come on, we need to get you off the street. This way.”

The woman took Serena’s arm in a strong grip and hurried her along the boardwalk in the opposite direction to the Eldorado.

“In here.” The woman opened a door and pushed her into a store redolent with the warm and wonderful aromas of coffee and fresh baking. “Go on, straight through that door facing you. I’m right behind you.”

Her rescuer’s hand, firm on her back, gave Serena no choice but to go where directed. The moment she passed through the second door, she spun on her heel.



“Just who are you?” she demanded. “And what gives you the right to push me around?”

“Well, pardon me for breathing.” Anger spiked the woman’s voice and blazed in her blue eyes. “You’d rather be pushed around by a bunch of randy miners, would you?”

“No, of course not. And I do thank you for coming to my aid, but who are you?”

“Someone you shouldn’t be seen with, that’s for sure.”

“Why shouldn’t I be seen with you?” Serena looked her rescuer up and down and might have been looking in a mirror, so similar were they. The woman was her height, dressed in clothes as fashionable as her own. Tendrils of hair, blonde rather than dark brown, framed the woman’s face and, just like Serena’s own skin, the woman had a fresh, clear complexion.

“Because I’m Lorelei Sutton and I own a brothel just outside of town.”


Buy at http://www.amazon.com/Cold-Gold-Buxton-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00F04HD1K

Visit Victoria Chatham at
www.bookswelove.com/chatham.php
www.facebook.com/AuthorVictoriaChatham

Join us next week for A Few Lines from Diane Bator

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

It's All In Your Mind, Young Adult Novel by Ann Herrick. Published by Books We Love

Blurb:
17-year-old Vija Skalbe wants to be an all-American girl—no matter how hard her parents try to impose their strict Latvian standards on her. Then one day Nolan, a folksinger, steals her heart at a coffeehouse.
Soon Vija is cruising from one adventure to another, dizzy with joy, her new-found freedom and the excitement of being with the kind of guy who is a challenge.
However, when Vija's father has a heart attack, she must take over running the family lawn-care business. She feels overwhelmed until sweet brainiac Joel volunteers to help. He shares the workload and lifts her spirits with his humor. But it is Nolan who fills her heart.
It doesn't matter that Nolan wants everything his way. Or that he's constantly eyeing other girls. Or that he can be pouty and punitive. Or that he says she's seeing things all wrong. Until it does matter. But Vija's in so deep. The thing is, she likes the excitement of being with him. Now, she is about to find out just how much she likes it.



Purchase Link:
http://www.amazon.com/Its-All-Your-Mind-ebook/dp/B00ED1ZFVG/

Chapter One 

1959

            If I had to pinpoint exactly when I started denying reality, I'd say it was the night I went to The Exit.
            "Turn off the engine, and let's go in," Caprice said.
            "I just want to hear the end of 'That'll be the day.'" I did like the song. But what I really wanted was a few more seconds to gather myself. The dingy building with the dim light struggling to shine through the grimy windows was not exactly in New Haven's new Urban Renewal. "Are you sure it's okay for us to be here?" A mist of cold sweat formed on my brow as I watched people filing in. "Everyone looks ... older. What if they throw us out?"
            "Vija Skalbe, would you cool it just for once? It's a coffeehouse, not a bar. No one here is over twenty. Trust me." Caprice snorted her snide, stifled laugh. "You'll be glad I dragged you here."
            I doubted that.
            Caprice lit a cigarette the second she stepped out of the car. "Just this one," she said. "I'm trying to quit."
            I'd told her Karl had warned me not to let anyone smoke in his car. I took a deep breath as we went inside and ordered coffee from a rough-looking guy with a Frankenstein forehead. Caprice pulled me toward a mushroom-sized table near the low platform that served as a stage. I sat down and wrapped my hands around the mug of acrid liquid. Caprice drank hers black. I had enough cream in mine to turn it white, but still could hardly stand to swallow the bitter taste. My folks loved the dark brew, but my coffee-appreciation gene must have been recessive.
            Blue smoke hung in the air from all the people puffing on cigarettes. One girl with long black hair touched a black cigarette holder to her lips, and blew a thin stream of smoke that swirled in the hazy light. Her over-sized black sweater hit mid-thigh on her black-tights-clad legs.
            I slid my feet under my chair, pushed myself close to the table, and tried to hide. As usual, I didn't quite fit in. Ever since my family finally decided to emigrate from Latvia to Connecticut when I was eleven in order to get away from the ravages of World War Two, I had one foot in each country. I wanted both feet planted firmly on American soil. But my parents constantly reminded me that our roots were in Latvia.
            I'd asked Caprice what I should wear, and all she'd said was, "Something somber." My black pleated skirt and mustard-colored sweater with matching cardigan turned out to be as out-of-place as I felt. I should've guessed, since Caprice had been wearing mostly tight-fitting black for the past two years. Her white lipstick, however, was new. Not a look out of Seventeen. Not that I was either. I tried to follow the latest fashions, but seemed to latch on to them just as they were ending. I was not what you'd call hip.
            During most of the week The Exit held readings. "Beat" poetry, radical writers such as Jack Kerouac, that kind of stuff. I'd read in On the Road. I lost track of how many times the characters drove back and forth across the country on the open roads. I wasn't sure there was any purpose to it, but I envied them their freedom, if not their dreariness. My parents viewed American coffeehouses with profound suspicion. They would be appalled if they knew I was here.
            On Fridays, instead of readings music was featured. I liked music, and that was one reason why Caprice was finally able to strong-arm me into going.
            Caprice and I had become friends in the middle of sixth grade, soon after I moved to the small shoreline town of Chatfield. I was extremely shy. Caprice lived just a block away then. We found ourselves walking to and from school together, and something clicked. She helped me with my English, and radiated confidence. I admired people with confidence.  Caprice enjoyed coming to my house where there was a father and a brother. She had neither. She liked bugging my brother, Karl, and he liked to tease her. Caprice and I became best friends. For a long time she was my only friend, and even now I was not what you'd call popular.
            Caprice and I even had a ceremony to make ourselves Spit Sisters. We were both too chicken to actually cut ourselves in order to become Blood Sisters. So, instead, we spit into each others hands, rubbing them together to "absorb" the saliva. We figured one bodily fluid was as good as another. We cut a lock of each other's hair and clipped the tip of each other's pinkie fingernail. We dug a hole and buried the hair and nails. Then we marked the spot with a pile of round rocks we'd collected from our back yards.
            We started to drift apart in junior high. When we started high school, Caprice announced that she'd dug up our hair and fingernails and scattered them. She didn't want to be Spit Sisters any more.
            This spring I turned seventeen and my brother joined the Navy rather than wait to be drafted. He left his old Chevy in my care. That's when Caprice started getting friendly again. Maybe it was our history together—as well as the car—that renewed her interest in me. We certainly weren't in the same circle. Of course, my circle was much smaller than Caprice's, so I was more willing to adapt. I struggled to find my place in the world.
            "Well, Vija ...." Caprice lifted an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
            "What do I think about what?"
            Caprice let out a loud sigh. "What do you think about The Exit? Is this a cool place or what?"
            What could I tell her? That The Exit felt like a journey to an alien world to me? That my parents, instead of asking me the usual twenty questions, would've grilled me with thirty questions if I'd told them my plans to drive into New Haven at night. It was only a few miles, but to my parents it was another galaxy. I told them I was going over to Caprice's. Since she'd moved across town a couple years ago, it made sense that I'd drive. I just didn't mention that we were not staying at Caprice's. "Yeah ... it's ... cool."
            "Maybe we'll meet some guys."
            "Me? Meet a guy? Yeah, right." I crossed and re-crossed my ankles. What if I did meet a guy? Then what! Caprice talked about trying to meet "men from Yale." Yale! Guys from our own school made me nervous enough. But of course I couldn't tell Caprice any of that. When she'd been convincing me to drive into New Haven and spend the first Friday night of summer vacation at The Exit, she made me think I'd be a failure for life if I didn't.
            Caprice just shook her head. With her naturally flirtatious manner, she couldn't possibly understand what it was like to be drab in every conceivable way. Besides, I wasn't interested in just any guy. I wanted to wait for someone special. Of course, back in junior high when I told Caprice that she laughed and said I was afraid of life. Maybe she was right.
            "Cast an eyeball on him." Caprice gestured toward a lanky, dark-haired guy in a far corner. "He's a cool cat."
            "Um. Yeah." He looked kind of gloomy to me.
            The lights blinked and the room's discordant chatter turned to a soft murmur.
            "Here comes Nolan Shar." Caprice nodded toward the stage. "I've heard he even plays gigs in Hartford."
            "Yeah, I know. You've told me." A hundred times. As if Hartford was the center of the music world. Of course, what did I know? Caprice said this guy was a folk singer. I loved rock n' roll, especially Buddy Holly's music. He was killed in that awful plane crash a few months ago, and I still mourned him.
            Nolan Shar stepped out of the shadows, up onto the platform, carrying a guitar. It was rumored that he'd attended Yale for a semester, then dropped out of school to sing. He was the kind of guy Caprice would set her sights on. I saw him only from the back, and took in the sandals, striped shirt, and chinos. A Kingston Trio look. As the lights dimmed, except for one casting its gentle, muted light on him, he turned. He looked out toward the audience—and smiled directly at me.
            A swath of dark curls fell casually on his forehead. His stubbly five-o'clock shadow gave his face a slightly dangerous look. He moved with nonchalant grace as he placed himself on the tall wooden stool in the center of the stage. His hands gently cradled the guitar. He spoke two words. "Aura Lee." Then his long, slender fingers caressed the strings, and he started to sing in a quiet, yet almost gravely voice. "As the blackbird in the spring ...."
            The music, I realized, had been used for Elvis's "Love Me Tender." But these original lyrics had a haunting quality, and filled me with a sense of peace and satisfaction.
            Every word pulled at me. Or maybe it was Nolan's voice.
            I applauded, too enthusiastically apparently for Caprice, as her mouth was tight with displeasure. I realized then that steady, rhythmic clapping was the approved method of The Exit crowd. Still, in the dim, smoky atmosphere, I allowed myself an intense smile.
            Through his set Nolan sprinkled in a couple of lively songs with high humor. But the general tone of the music was soft and yearning. After his last song, he simply acknowledged the final applause with a nod, and put his guitar its case. As the lights came back on, he stepped down from the stage.
            My throat closed as he started toward the door.
            "Nolan, wait." Caprice's voice shot across the table. She arched an eyebrow. "Join us?"
            Nolan stopped. He looked at Caprice, then me, then at Caprice again. He shrugged, grabbed a chair from another table, and sat down.
            I stared into his peacock-blue eyes. I could not open my mouth. Fortunately, Caprice never had that problem. She launched into a monologue about Chatfield, folk music, and, of course, herself. Word after word tumbled off her lips, effortlessly, like rain off a roof.
            Nolan sat, apparently fascinated, staring at Caprice, nodding occasionally, tossing out an "mmm-hmm," now and then. Finally, the flow of words stopped. Caprice reached out and placed her hand over Nolan's in a possessive gesture. "Can I get you a coffee?"
            Nolan shook his head. "Sorry. Gotta split." He pulled out a pen, tore off a corner of my paper napkin, scribbled a phone number on it, and shoved the piece paper at me. "In case you'd like to talk some time."
            Then he left.
            For a second Caprice gawked in stunned silence. Then she sat bolt upright. "I can't believe he asked you out!"
            "He ... he didn't ask me out."
            Caprice rolled her eyes. "He gave you his number. Same thing."
            "Yeah, right. As if I'd ever call him. Girls don't call guys."
            "Maybe prissy little girls don't. But some of us do."
            I looked down at the piece of paper and traced my finger over the number. I folded the paper in half, and in half again, then tucked it in my pocket.
            From the moment Nolan strummed the guitar I knew he was someone special. I suddenly realized what I'd been waiting for. I'd always wanted to fall in love with a folk singer.


Friday, September 13, 2013

A Few Lines from Joan Hall Hovey


This week, a few lines from The Abduction of Mary Rose by Joan Hall Hovey

The teenage girl hurried along the darkening street, head down in a vain attempt to divert attention from herself as she headed for her bus stop, still over a block away. The car behind her was a soft growl in the still, warm air.  The day was fast fading, the sky a light mauve, only a sprinkling of stars yet. Soon it would be dark... Ignore them, she told herself. But it was impossible to do with the car following so close that the heat from the motor brushed her bare legs, like a monster's breath.

 

Victoria Chatham follows me next week.
 

Friday, September 6, 2013

A Few Lines From Connie Vines

A Few Lines From. . . Connie Vines

Brede swallowed, trying to ignore the thick, tight feeling wedged in his throat.  He didn't welcome the onslaught of emotion that filled his chest and caused him to stroke her jaw with an unsteady finger tip.  He reminded himself that he didn't need to be involved in her problems; he had enough of his own.  As soon as the roads were passable, he'd get her to a doctor and the police could take care of the rest.

Still, no matter how hard he tried to remove himself from the situation, he kept remembering how fragile she'd seemed in his arms.  he felt as if he'd carried a sparrow, all feathers and tiny bones, out of the gully.


Connie Vines
Expect the UnExpected!
https://twitter.com/connie_vines

Stop back next week for a few lines from Joan Hall Hovey.

Friday, August 30, 2013

A Few lines From Angel de'Amor

A Few Lines From… Angel de`Amor

This week, a few lines from His Betrayal Her Lies by Angel de`Amor
She moved to her dresser, opened the bottle, and rubbed the lotion all over her body, paying special attention to his two favorite places to nibble—her neck and legs. The butterscotch skin, brown eyes, and petite body that were reflected in the mirror as she massaged her legs made her feel extra sexy. She stood and did a little sensual dance as she opened her underwear drawer, selected a striking red lace thong, and slipped it up her legs.

Some teeny devil must have been sitting on her shoulder urging her on. “Yeah, this thong is all the clothes you’re going to need.” She pulled her four-inch red pumps out the closet and slid them on her feet. “Sorry, babies,” she told her aching feet, “but I gotta look good tonight.”

She snatched her wallet out of her purse off the nightstand and her Blackberry off the bed as she walked to the living room closet. Wrapping up in the long, black, fox fur coat would protect her from the chilly November weather.

                                                                                                                





Please stop back next week for a few lines from Connie Vines.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

A Few Lines From Jane Toombs


Friday, August 16, 2013

A Few Lines From. . .Jane Toombs

Bride of the Baja by Jane Toombs



After a long ride Alitha was untied, pulled down from the horse and carried to a hut, where she was pushed inside and left alone in the darkness. She lay huddled on the ground for a moment listening to the sounds around her—the pounding of the surf, the drunken shouts of the men, the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs.

Coming Soon! Find this title and Jane's other books at:http://bookswelove.net/janetoombs.php

Please stop back next week for a few lines from 
Kathy Fischer-Brown.

The Heart Leads Home Featured on "Ask David"

  Check out my featured book The Heart Leads Home on "Ask David."  Promotion starts today!  http://askdavid.com/reviews/book/sweet-romance/6646

Friday, August 9, 2013

A Few Lines From Janet Lane Walters


A Few Lines From. . .Janet Lane Walters


A Few Lines from Shattered Dreams by Janet Lane Walters

Without a glance at the waiting patient, she strode to the counter. The aroma strengthened. Hadn’t been her imagination. She turned her head and stared at the man wearing the green cotton examining gown. She gripped the edge of the counter. Blood rushed from her head.
“You’re dead.” The words slashed the silence. This couldn’t be happening.
“Hardly.”
The voice sounded like the one from her dreams. She opened her mouth to ask where he’d been and what he’d been doing for the past twelve years. She sucked in a shallow breath. Asking that question would only stir the emotions she had frozen.

“Don’t bail on me. Sit down.”
Her fingers had no feeling. Waves of darkness dimmed her vision. The edge of the counter disappeared. Her knees buckled. Blackness engulfed her.

* * *
“Manon!” Rafe Marshall leaped from the examining table in time to catch her before she hit the floor. He cradled her against his chest. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered. Why did she think he was dead? He knew news of his accident had been kept quiet because the police believed he’d been deliberately forced off the road. Who had told her? Had the informant been the driver of the dark car his rescuer had seen speeding from the scene?
Find Shattered Dreams here:
Janet can be found daily at http://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com/
Stay tuned. Next week A Few Lines features Jane Toombs...

Friday, August 2, 2013

A few Lines From Betty Jo Schuler


A Few Lines from. . . Betty Jo Schuler

This week, a few lines from Finding Freedom by Betty Jo Schuler



                CELESTE HARTE GLARED at the twenty-nine candles on her birthday cake. She'd squandered her last fourteen birthday wishes asking for a fairy tale romance, and her life still read like an instruction manual. The frog she'd hoped would turn into a prince—God rest his soul—had been a cheating toad. Leaning her hands on her glass-topped kitchen table, she puffed out her cheeks and blew. I wish I'd meet a man who would turn my life into a sizzling romance novel.
            "Easy." Marianne Joest raised an auburn brow as she swiped cream frosting from her blouse with a manicured nail. Closing her eyes, she sucked her fingertip. "Mm. Next best thing to an orgasm."
       "Half over?" Marianne snorted. "And I thought Susan was the drama queen." She cut two slices of cake and handed Celeste one. 
  
       "My life is half over, I haven't made love in I-can't-remember-when, and you talk about orgasm?"
 Celeste shook her head. "It's loaded with fat."
        "Dammit, Cee. This is carrot cake, a vegetable with frosting. You're thin enough no matter what Harry said, and twenty-nine isn't the beginning of menopause."

http://bookswelove.net/bettyjoschuler.php

Come back next week for a few lines from Janet Lane Walters.