Friday, May 30, 2014

First Fight Friday: The Waiting Game by Eve Devon

Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.

Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share a first fight from one of their books.

  Eve Devon      

    is here for ...

First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

  The Waiting Game
     I’m thrilled to share a ‘First Fight Friday Scene’ with you all…and have chosen the first fight from my debut book,  
which has just turned one!

With her stalker Andre Spinks released from prison, ex-songstress turned recluse Brooke Bennet knows her life is back to balancing on a knife-edge. But that doesn’t mean letting former protector, sexy security consultant Cam Dexter, call all the shots.

“Since the trial, I’ve lived in a safe manner. Trying to breathe life into my existence in a way that wouldn’t worry anyone. And okay, so my body might go into hyper-drive whenever I feel threatened. So I may never be able to get a full night’s sleep or ever fully relax. But to suggest I can’t be trusted to help keep myself safe?”

She stopped in front of him, her breath coming in choppy bursts. “I’ve done all of that, lived like that, and isn’t it ironic—”

“It’s not ironic. It’s sad,” he cut in, putting the truth right in front of her.

“What?” Her question came out tortured and hit him hard.

“You want to stand here in front of me and argue that the timid existence you’ve carved out for yourself is living? You haven’t been living. You’ve barely been going through the motions.”

Seconds passed. Then her shoulders slumped, and it seemed as if her spirit had folded in on itself.

Damn. He was scum.

That sense of self-loathing was marginally alleviated when a light finally re-entered her eyes, and she recovered enough to draw air into her lungs. He didn’t know whether to feel proud of her or wary. He focused on her as she licked her lips and squared her frame.

“Spinks is waiting on purpose, you know,” she said dully. “Tiny actions that amount to nothing—that’s what he’ll use to pull us in and keep us on edge. He’ll string it out forever if he wants to. That’s how he works. And what will we do, Cameron? Will we wait forever, too?”

He let her march away from him, across the gleaming polished wood of the yurt’s raised floor. Let her spend a couple of minutes gathering a towel and fresh clothes from her bag. But when she made to brush past him, he blocked her path.

“I need you to use your head,” he said. “You have to know there’s no way I’m letting this end in a bloodbath. This ends with Spinks back where he belongs. In prison. And you getting to go back to your life.”

He stared down at the top of her head and waited. And while he waited, he held his breath. Finally, he felt the give in her stance. He exhaled.

She gave a short, tight nod of her head and said softly, “I’m going for a shower. That is, if I can be trusted?”

Copyright © Eve Devon


The Waiting Game by Eve Devon 

Five years ago a madman stalked her. Kidnapped her. Tattooed her.

When security expert Cameron Dexter—the man Brooke Bennett once loved—appears unexpectedly at her door with terrifying news, the former musician discovers she can no longer hide from her past. After five years, her vicious kidnapper is out of prison and on the hunt—for Brooke.

Now he’s returned to complete his art.

Cam failed to protect Brooke once before. Now he’d rather die than let her be captured. With her life at stake, Cam vows to keep her hidden and safe. Brooke, however, is done with running. Unlike Cam, she wants to stand and fight. Emotions both old and new roil between them, but addressing their heated past must wait. Together they set a trap in London to catch a killer. But they soon discover the enemy wears many faces...

And waiting is no longer an option.

The Waiting Game 
is available on 

Amazon      Barnes & Noble     iTunes     Kobo

About Eve:

Growing up in locations like Botswana and Venezuela gave me quite the taste for adventure and my love for romances began when my mother shoved one into my hands in a desperate attempt to keep me quiet during TV coverage of the Wimbledon tennis finals! When I wasn’t consuming books by the bucketload, I could be found pretending to be a damsel in distress or running around solving mysteries and writing down my adventures. As a teenager, I wrote countless episodes of TV detective dramas so the hero and heroine would end up together every week. As an adult, I worked in a library to conveniently continue consuming books by the bucketload, until realising I was destined to write contemporary romance and romantic suspense myself. I live in leafy Surrey in the UK, a book-devouring, slightly melodramatic, romance-writing sassy heroine with my very own sexy hero husband!

Follow Eve Devon online

Thanks for sharing Eve!

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Enter Your Paragraph to start the next Written Fireside!

Usually Written Fireside creates one story, round robin style. I gather a group of authors together, make up a schedule spanning a couple of months, and then start the story on the Written Fireside blog. Each author adds their part to the story in turn. Not one story has evolved into my original concept. In fact, after each story is completed, I’m amazed at the how different the visions each author had of the characters and back story.

To celebrate Written Fireside’s first birthday, I thought it’d be great fun to take many of the authors who’d participated in its first year, give them all the same starting paragraph, and let them share how wonderfully different each one would write the story.

For the month of August, every few days, successive authors will take the starting paragraph provided and share how she would build a ‘Christmas by the Fire’ story from it. The schedule and all the links will be on the Written Fireside blog as well as the authors. We will end up with 14 unique visions all from a single source, that one paragraph.

Normally I write the beginning of a Written Fireside, but on this one special occasion I’d like to invite one of our readers to start the stories….

To enter follow the link to the HarperImpulse Blog and leave your first paragraph in the comments below their post about the competition by 15/07/2014. Harper Impulse will pick their favorite starting paragraph and an amazing group of authors will each write their own story that starts with your beginning. The anthology of short stories will be released just in time for Christmas, with a full credit to you for starting it, and a link back to your website, social media, or other writing.

Remember, although it might be warm outside, the theme for this Written Fireside story is Christmas, so keep that in mind when you write your starting paragraph!

Friday, May 23, 2014

First Fight Friday: The Roman by Caroline Storer

Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.

Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share the first fight out of their latest book.

Fellow Harper Impulse author 

  Caroline Storer      

        is here for ...

First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

  The Roman
     ROME AD 79 

Marsallas and Justina were young, beautiful and desperately in love once, until a tragic betrayal tore them apart. 

Six years have passed since that day and the last thing he expects is to see her again. But beneath the hurt, an attraction so intense still burns between the two…

Unbidden, he came slowly into the room, smiling a wolf’s smile, and Justina blushed at having been caught staring at him again. He lifted his arms in a gesture of supplication, the action faintly mocking, as his blue gaze fixed on hers with such intensity that it caused Justina’s stomach to clench partly in fear, and partly in response to the sheer masculinity he exuded.

"So here I am. What was so important that you had to travel to Rome to see me?”

Justina swallowed, her nerves on edge, as he came further into the room, his muscular presence instantly shrinking the room. She felt her breath catch as he came closer, standing no more that three feet away from her. The harsh lines of his face had been carved out by his life in the Circus. But he was also ruggedly handsome, and just looking at him caused her heart to beat erratically even after all the years away from him.

She had the urge to move away, to put some distance between them, but didn’t want to appear a coward, so instead she lifted her chin and looked him squarely in the eyes. Her fear dissipated somewhat, when she saw with some surprise, that he looked ill. His skin was a sallow yellow colour, his eyes bloodshot, and she could see sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. Concern overcame fear, and she ignored his question. Instead she asked, “Are you ill?”

She saw him raise an eyebrow, and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Your concern is touching, Justina. No, I am not ill, just recovering from the excesses of last night, if you know what I mean. Life as one of Rome’s great charioteers, is just one long endless party.”

Justina blushed at the sarcastic tone of his voice, and she turned away, annoyed with herself for showing concern for him. She should have realised that he would turn it against her.

After a tense silence had fallen in the room, she turned back to him and saw him watching her through narrowed eyes. He was obviously still waiting for an answer as to why she had come to see him, so taking a deep breath she said in a measured tone, “Your uncle is dying. I’ve come to Rome to ask you to return to Herculaneum. To… to come home.”

Another long silence descended in the room until Marsallas barked, “Home! Since when has that mausoleum ever been a home? No, I don’t think so Justina. You can tell my uncle that I am far too busy here in Rome!”

Justina said nothing. She didn’t argue with him, or try to persuade him as she knew it would be futile. She had, at least, carried out the order she had been given, and could now return to Herculaneum knowing that she had spoken with him. If she was honest with herself, she agreed with Marsallas. In all the years she had lived in the vast villa, she had never felt comfortable living there, and she had prayed every day for the opportunity to be presented to her so she could leave the cold austere place.

“Tell me one thing though, Justina.” Marsallas asked, breaking into her thoughts, “Did my uncle ask, or order you to come here?”

Justina looked up at him, guilt stealing over her, as hot colour stained her cheeks at his question. The unspoken reaction was answer enough for Marsallas, and he laughed, the sound harsh and guttural in the silence of the room. “Just as I thought,” he said, his mouth twisting in derision. “No, I will not come back to Herculaneum, Justina. My life there is over, you can tell my uncle that. It was over the day he bedded you!”

She stiffened at the harshness of his words, but said nothing, watching as he walked back towards the door, and back out of her life once more. But then he stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly remembered something, before he turned and walked back to where she stood. She had to resist the urge to flee when she saw the intense look on his face as he came towards her. But she stood her ground, willing her body to remain calm. But when he came to within touching distance of her she was potently aware of his raw sexuality. Her skin prickled in awareness, and she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She could well imagine the women of Rome wanting him in their beds.

“I almost forgot,” he murmured softly, lifting up her chin with firm fingers, and Justina not having any choice, looked up into his face. She felt her eyelashes flutter slightly as her eyes clashed with his. His fingers were rough, calloused, with the hard work of his life. Then she felt his thumb skim over the fullness of her bottom lip, and she had to fight the urge to taste his skin with her tongue. She could see resistance in his eyes as he touched her, as if he were fighting his own internal battles as far as she was concerned. Then his eyes darken with suppressed passion, and before she could think, or react, he leaned forward and took her in his arms and kissed her - deeply – his lips firm and unyielding, his tongue demanding, and gaining access to the softness within.

Justina gripped his strong bare forearms, wanting to break away from the kiss, but unable to do so as a surge of desire flowed through her. She closed her eyes, caught up in the headiness of his mouth on hers. Eventually he pulled away, and Justina felt bereft that the kiss had ended so soon. But then the enormity of what had just happened hit her, and her eyes flew open.

For a heartbeat neither of them moved, but then Marsallas broke the spell between them, his lip twisting in derision. He cocked his head and clicked his tongue, in what was obviously a false gesture of regret, before asking in a mocking tone, “Tell me, do I kiss better than Quintus?”

Justina gasped in horror at his words, and before she could think, she slapped him across the face. Hard.

For a moment she couldn’t believe she’d hit him, and she stood open mouthed with shock at her audacity. She watched as a large red mark appeared on his cheek, before stepping backwards in an involuntary movement when she saw his eyes narrow in anger.

“Witch,” Marsallas hissed, a nerve ticking furiously along his clenched jaw line. For a moment Justina thought he might retaliate, but he didn't. Instead, he turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance, the door slamming shut behind him.

Copyright © Caroline Storer


The Roman by Caroline Storer 

ROME AD 79 - The one woman he ever loved was the one woman who betrayed him. And now, the Roman will have his revenge… 

Marsallas and Justina were young, beautiful and desperately in love once, until a tragic betrayal tore them apart. Six years have passed since that day and Marsallas has since thrown himself into the deadly world of chariot racing, gaining fortune, fame, and a salacious reputation throughout Rome. His bed could be kept warm by a different woman each night if he chooses, but his heart remains iced over as the memory of Justina’s betrayal continues to haunts him. The last thing he expects is to see her again, but when she steps back into his life he sees a chance to avenge his broken heart. But beneath the hurt, an attraction so intense still burns between the two, and as their fates begin to intertwine once more, their determination to resist one another starts to falter…

The Roman 
is available on 
Amazon  Amazon UK  Google Play  Itunes  Sainsbury's  
Nook  Barnes and Noble  Kobo

About Caroline:
Being a poor sleeper, I’ve been making up stories for years now to try and exhaust my mind, and get some much needed sleep. It doesn’t always work as the stories then demand to be written! I write mainly Historical romances, but I’ve also written Contemporary romances, Romantic Intrigue and I’ve also tried my hand at Futuristic and Time Slip romances.

I live on the beautiful island of Anglesey in North Wales, with my wonderful husband, Colin. By day I’m an Environmental Health Officer, where I get to meet lots of interesting people – all grist to the writer’s mill.

Follow Caroline Storer online

Thanks for sharing Caroline!

Friday, May 16, 2014

First Fight Friday: Terms of Temptation by Lorrie Farrelly

Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.

Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share the first fight out of their latest book.

  Lorrie Farrelly      

        is here for ...

First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

  Terms of Temptation


Deputy Game Warden Bram Killoran and Kinley Cantrell are irresistibly drawn to one another, but her passion and spirit clash with his tangled conflict of duty and desire.

KINLEY, staring at Bram in shock and dismay, struggled to get her wits together. How had their joy and passion in each other’s arms turned into this unhappy march to martyrdom he seemed determined to take now?

She suspected that she was falling in love with him – almost certainly already loved him – but it was dreadfully apparent he regretted ever touching her. She got that. Oh yes, she got it in spades.

The jackass!

“Mr. Killoran,” Kinley said carefully, struggling to keep a tremor from her voice. When he heaved a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes, she acquiesced. “Bram. You told me in no uncertain terms that you are not a marrying man. Why are you so determined now that we must marry?”

His eyes narrowed. “Weren’t you listening? I just told you. You could already be in the family way! You are my responsibility.”

Why, you big old sweet-talker, you, Kinley thought with almost unbearable exasperation. Why was he taking something beautiful and making it so dreadful?

“It’s very unlikely I’m pregnant, you know,” she said cautiously. “My sister Virginia was married for almost two years before she conceived. I don’t think you need to be overly concerned.”

Bram stared at her. “Overly concerned?” he echoed incredulously. “There ain’t no overly about it. We’re getting married, and that’s all there is to it.”
His flat, discussion-over tone nearly broke Kinley’s heart. She felt tears burn her eyes, but she blinked hard and kept them at bay. Her voice was barely a whisper, but steady, when she asked softly, “Oh, Bram, please tell me truthfully. Do you want to marry me?”

If his hesitation didn’t tell her everything, his next words did. “It ain’t about want,” he said flatly.

“But it was last night.”

The sadness in her eyes nearly broke him. Why couldn’t she see he was doing this for her? “Kinley,” he said, a little desperately, and his hand seemed to reach out for her of its own accord. “Please, honey, be reasonable. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the very last thing I want.”

She shook her head. “No, Bram. No, it isn’t. Marrying me is the last thing you want. But it doesn’t matter. I do thank you for asking, although I suppose it was more like ordering. The point is, I do not wish to marry you. I do not intend to be anyone’s cross to bear, not even yours.”

When he began to protest, she cut him off. “Thank you for your trouble,” she said with terrible calm. “You did not have to treat me with care, but you did. You were kind and generous and exciting. It was wonderful, and I am very much obliged to you.”

She was thanking him? For likely ruining her life? Bram snarled, all but sputtered with temper. “I don’t want you to be blasted obliged! I want you to … Hey, don’t walk away from me! We’re not finished with this!”

Unable to bear arguing with him any longer, Kinley ignored him, walking back to Snowbird and mounting up. Bram followed her, but after a few steps he stopped, shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to pull her right off her horse and into his arms.

She nudged Snowbird, and the little Appaloosa jogged forward. Kinley turned her gaze straight ahead, even as she passed within a few feet of the man who had loved her so well, with such tenderness and passion, but who now stood fuming near the cold remains of their campfire, his jaw clenched, furious frustration in his hard, storm-colored eyes.

Copyright © Lorrie Farrelly


Terms of Temptation by Lorrie Farrelly

Deputy Game Warden Bram Killoran is certainly no saint, and he has wanted headstrong Kinley Cantrell since the day he first saw her outside Crowheart’s Paradise Saloon – backing a burly drunk three times her size up against a hitching rail and giving him a truly inspired and colorful upbraiding for mistreating his horse.

Kinley’s determination to defend herself and the animals she loves will make her Bram’s unlikely ally. They are irresistibly drawn to one another, but when her passion and spirit clash with his tangled conflict of duty and desire, not only their hearts will be in danger, 
but their very lives as well.

Terms of Temptation 
is available on Amazon

Terms of Temptation has been awarded Readers’ Favorite 5 Stars:

Bill Howard: Reviewing for READERS' FAVORITE

Farrelly captures the struggles of love and romance in a fantastic way... She has... penetrated the hearts and emotions of the two lead characters...under circumstances that add to the romance. Horses, strong men, conflicts, and adventures...a daily part of western life at the turn of the century...make the reader long for that simpler time...Passionate, emotional, adventurous, TERMS OF TEMPTATION is an adventure in romance that will hold the reader spellbound...

Faridah Nassozi: Reviewing for READERS' FAVORITE

A beautiful story about life on a ranch, love of family, love for the wild, and a challenging love between two people. The descriptive and skillful way the book is written takes you back a hundred years and draws you into life on a ranch and the versatile range of characters... TERMS OF TEMPTATION is the type of book you...want to keep reading because of the way the plot is so skillfully put together and because you can easily relate to and connect with the characters.

About Lorrie:
A Navy brat and graduate of the University of California, Santa Cruz, LORRIE FARRELLY is proud to be a Fightin’ Banana Slug (well, okay, they’re really lovers, not fighters). Following graduate school at Northwestern University, she began a career in education that included teaching art to 4th graders, drama to 8th graders, and finally, math to high school students (if anybody loses asymptotes, she can probably find ’em...).

She’s a three-time winner on Jeopardy! (despite forgetting the chemical symbol for sulfuric acid … oh, wait – she never knew that in the first place), has shepherded wide-eyed foreign exchange students along Hollywood Blvd. (“As many stars and lunatics as there are in the Heavens”), and happily curried and shoveled as a ranch hand at Disneyland’s Circle D Ranch. And always, she writes.

Lorrie has won a Presidential Commendation for Excellence in Teaching Mathematics. She’s been a Renaissance nominee for Teacher of the Year and a finalist for the Orange Rose Award in romantic fiction. She’s never won the lottery, except where her family is concerned. For her, they’re the ultimate prize.

Follow Lorrie Farrelly online

Thanks for sharing Lorrie!

Friday, May 9, 2014

First Fight Friday: Much Ado About Madams by Jacquie Rogers

Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.

Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share the first fight out of their latest book.

  Jacquie Rogers      

        is here for ...

First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

Much Ado About Madams
(Hearts of Owyhee #2) 

At the end of a long day, Reese couldn't wait to crawl into bed.  
He didn't plan on meeting Lucinda before he could rest. 

Life isn't always comfortable at The Comfort Palace!

Reese McAdams felt pretty damned lucky as he rode up to the Comfort Palace. He’d been able to conduct all his business over the wire and hadn’t needed to go to Wichita after all. Thanks to the full moon, he’d ridden late into the night to make his way home with money in his pocket and arrangements for a herd of cattle to be delivered to his new ranch.

Ranch land. Somehow, he had to find the time to build a bunkhouse, at least, so he could hire some cowhands. They’d need a place to stay, but he could live in the Comfort Palace another year before he built a house.

He dismounted, legs wobbly after the twelve-hour ride, and led Buster to the stable where he fed the exhausted roan stallion an extra ration of oats. Even though Reese’s fondest desire was to soak in a hot bath and crawl into his soft bed, he took extra care rubbing Buster down. The old boy deserved a little special attention.

With one last effort, Reese threw his bulging saddlebags over his shoulder. They were loaded with small things for the women—cheap jewelry and a few lotions—and the freight wagon due in the next morning would bring the other things he’d bought for the ladies.

He’d hated his father’s gambling and whoring, and hated more that he’d ended up inheriting a brothel. His first inclination had been to sell it, but he couldn’t bear to see the faded whores turned out. Where would they go? More than likely most of them would end up in the cribs. Instead, he vowed not to take money from their labors, except for selling the building when the time came.

Reese willed his tired legs up the back stairs that led directly to his room. Guilt nagged at him for not greeting Fannie and the girls before he went to his room, but they’d just have to forgive him this time. The need for sleep nagged at him more.

Even though he’d often cursed the noise of the brothel for robbing him of sleep, tonight it seemed a blessing. No one would hear him come in. He slipped quietly into his bedroom, felt his way to the dresser, and gently laid the saddlebags on the chair beside it, his hat and gunbelt on top of them.

In one motion, Reese yanked off his sweaty shirt and tossed it on the floor, then leaning against the dresser, pulled off his boots and pants. He peeled off his overripe long-handles and threw them in the farthest corner of the room so he didn’t have to smell them all night. That he stank of sweat and horse didn’t bother him, though. A hot bath was a good way to start the day.

He felt his way over to the bed. Knowing he’d be asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, he lifted the down comforter and crawled in. He bumped into a lump, tried to pat it out.

It jumped.

Then it screamed. “Get out of my bed, you filthy whoremonger!”

A crazy woman pummeled his head with her fists. Reese tried to dodge the blows, but not before she’d whapped his nose a good one. Leaping out of bed before she could do more damage, he stubbed his big toe on the leg of the bed.

“Stop it!” he bellowed as he hopped over to the dresser. His nose ached and his toe throbbed. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” He pounded his fist down, propelling something gooey onto his chest.

“Your room!”

Reese lit the lantern. As the flame rose, he saw an irate woman with tousled blonde hair and blazing mad eyes. She clutched his comforter to her neck like armor.

“Yes, my room.” He made a swipe at the pie sliding down his chest and licked his fingers. Sadie’s berry pie was his favorite, but not mixed with chest hairs. “Who the hell are you and why are you in my bed?”

The strange woman turned her head and spoke to the wall as if she were too good to speak to a lowly rancher. “I’m the new schoolteacher, and Fannie told me I’m supposed to stay here. In this room. Alone. Without a naked man.”

Oh hell! Reese grabbed his duster and wrapped it around himself, berry pie and all. “Schoolteacher?”


Dickshooter didn’t have a school. She must have stopped for the night. Fannie, in her infinite wisdom and the kindness of her heart, agreed to put her up. He’d wring her neck. He’d wring both their necks.

“I’ll get this mess straightened out with Fannie.” The berry pie stuck to his chest and adhered to the duster. “Damn!”

“There’s nothing to straighten out. You need to find another place to sleep.” She sniffed daintily. “And please don’t curse in front of a lady.”

“The hell I will—er, won’t! Oh, hell!” He charged out the door, swearing at the righteous woman in his bed, saving a few choice words for Fannie, and, for good measure, all females in general.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Lucinda hurled her pillow at the closing door. Who did he think he was, invading her bed like that? He didn’t even apologize for giving her the scare of her life. The vile man. Beast.

And he had stood in front of her naked as the day he was born with no shame whatsoever. Had he no pride? Yes, plenty. Probably an overdose. She had to admit, she’d seen few men who could compete with him in the looks department. Of course, she hadn’t looked below his waist.

Maybe just a little peek.

Were she the romantic type, which she wasn’t, she’d have thought him very handsome, indeed. Those dark eyes with the little smile wrinkles at the corners had probably coerced many woman out of anything without him saying a word. His long black hair looked rakish, and it seemed in keeping with the patch of black hair sprinkled on his chest and . . . well, other places she hadn’t looked.

Copyright © 2012 Jacquie Rogers


Much Ado About Madams (Hearts of Owyhee #2) by Jacquie Rogers 

This is the second book in the Hearts of Owyhee series, all set in Owyhee County, Idaho Territory, during the 1880s.

A suffragist schoolteacher with a hidden past,

Six shopworn whores cooking up plans for a better future,

And a hunky cowhand who isn't quite sure what to do with all these women...

Life isn't always comfortable at The Comfort Palace!

Much Ado About Madams 
is available on Amazon


Check out the whole Hearts of Owyhee series 

Jacquie's bio:

My parents were poor but honest sharecroppers …

Okay, perhaps that's stretching the truth a little, but I come from a long line of no-holds-barred storytellers, so I like to exaggerate. Worse yet, I'm a writer, and writers do tend to get carried away. My parents actually owned a dairy farm in Owyhee County, Idaho, near Homedale and I grew up milking cows, breaking ice on the calves' water troughs and checking the bottoms of my shoes before entering the house. While I don't miss the frigid Idaho winters, I do recall those soulful calf eyes with fondness. Nowadays, the only soulful eyes I see are those of my husband when he pokes his head in my office for the tenth time and asks me when I'm going to fix dinner.

Follow Jacquie Rogers online

Thanks for sharing Jacquie!

Friday, May 2, 2014

First Fight Friday: The Best Thing I Never Had by Erin Lawless

Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.

Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share the first fight out of their latest book.

Fellow Harper Impulse author and a Fire Writer for Written Fireside: His Way Home Part 10 & Written Fireside: Changes Part 9 -coming May 27.

[check out her Fire Writer Friday 
interview with Cowboy Marvin]

Erin Lawless is here for ...

First Fight Friday 

with a scene from 

The Best Thing I Never Had

Five years ago at university they had been seven friends 
that laughed hard and loved harder.

Nicky and Miles were the couple that were always meant to be… Leigha and Adam, not so much…

So when Adam and Harriet grew close during endless days in the library, they did the one thing that changed everything – they kept a secret. And when it came out, it all fell apart.

Harriet groaned as Adam turned around and revealed what he had just bought at the bar. “I said one more drink, not one more pitcher,” she called across to him. “We’re expected home already!”

“Listen to yourself, woman!” Adam said incredulously, reaching the table and putting the jug of Snakebite down. “They’re not our parents!”

“Yeah, but – its board game night, ‘The Game of Life’…” Harriet said, stupid with her share of the two jugs of Snakebite they’d imbibed already.

“F*** ‘The Game of Life’,” Adam replied, with great delight, refilling their pint glasses with a clumsy slosh from the pitcher. “I always get the shit jobs anyway.”

“Leigha will be cross,” Harriet predicted, taking a deep drink regardless. Adam’s eyebrows rose.

“With you or with me?” he asked. Harriet shot a look at him through her eyelashes.

“Both,” she replied, neutrally, reaching forward and drawing shapes in the condensation on the swell of the pitcher with her forefinger.

“Let her,” Adam stretched out his legs casually under the table. “She’s not my keeper.”

“Shows what you know,” Harriet said; her tone was light and playful but Adam glowered at her in response. Harriet rolled her eyes and reached forward for her glass again, the drink making her indiscreet. “Christ, any other bloke would be falling at Leigha’s feet for one iota of the attention she’s bestowing upon you.” Adam redirected his glower towards his drink, which he then saw off with slow, careful swallows. Harriet was not to be deterred; “what’s wrong with you?” she persisted.

“Nothing’s wrong with me! I just don’t like this whole sense of ownership, it’s so obvious that you guys totally assume me and her will be getting together.”

“And what’s so odd about that?” Harriet challenged. “You’re single, she’s single, you clearly fancy one another. Get on with it. Stop messing her around.”

Adam inhaled sharply, incredulous. “Messing!”

“Yes, messing!” Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you’re the sort of guy who’s just after one thing.”

Adam reddened. “Of course not.”

The swift and emphatic denial seemed to take the wind out of Harriet’s sails; she fell silent but looked him square in the face, exasperation still showing on hers.

“Never mind,” she said, finally, standing up. “Look, I’m going to go to the toilet and then we really should head back home.” She was away from their table before Adam could even reply. He sat back against the dark leather backing of the booth, feeling entirely unsettled, eyes on the swing door to the Ladies’ which Harriet had just disappeared through. For the fourth time that evening, he ignored the persistent vibration of his mobile ringing in his jeans pocket.


The Best Thing I Never Had by Erin Lawless

Five years ago at university they had been seven friends that laughed hard and loved harder.

Nicky and Miles were the couple that were always meant to be… Leigha and Adam, not so much…

When the day comes for bridesmaids to be chosen and best men to fulfil drunken promises, Nicky and Miles’ wedding isn’t just a wedding, it’s a reunion – loaded with past hurts, past regrets, past loves…

The Best Thing I Never Had is available to buy at these places:
Amazon | Google Play | iTunes | Sainsbury's 

Erin's bio:

Erin Lawless lives a happy life full of wonderful friends, in love with a man who buys her books instead of flowers. To mix things up a little, she writes books where friends and lovers hit obstacles and (usually) overcome them. When she’s not doing that she reads absolutely everything she gets her hands on, spends an inordinate amount of time in pyjamas and runs a fun-but-informative blog on British history.

Follow Erin Lawless online

Thanks for sharing Erin!

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