Guest Interview–Kathy L. Wheeler

Welcome to an author friend I met through an online author community.

How about you introduce yourself by providing the basics?

I write contemporary and historical romance. I’ve been writing since 2007, and wished I’d started back in the 70s!

Where were you raised?

I was raised in Texas, the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, and Boulder/Longmont, Colorado.

Family members?

I have 2 sisters, 2 brothers, 1 daughter (who just had a baby), 1 husband, and 1 cat.

Did you attend college?

I graduated from the University of Central Oklahoma with a BA in Management Information Systems and a vocal minor in music.

What’s your favorite sport to watch?

NBA Thunder Basketball. And it’s been a rough year. **sigh**

Did you always want to be a singer? YES; Computer programmer? I thought I did. Writer? I never knew how much I would love it.

Are you a pet person?

I love animals. But it’s very hard when something happens to them. I love my cat. She’s quite adorable, demanding, sweet, and demanding! Right! She’s very demanding.

Do you have any hobbies?

I love to karaoke, hang out with my Martini Club 4 friends, writer friends. I just joined the YMCA, so I haven’t met anyone there yet. Of course, basketball, NFL, travel.

List your favorite movie of all time.

An Affair to Remember with Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant.

Where did you go for your most recent vacation?

Well, in February I went to Seattle to see my dad. I went from OKC through Denver and my brother ended up on the same plane! In January, I went to San Francisco to see my daughter and her new little boy. He’s adorable, though it took me two days to get up the nerve to hold him.

Is there a place you’d always wanted to visit?

I’m dying to go to Ireland. I’ve already been to London, Paris, Köln, Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona, Avignon, Vancouver, Victoria, Grand Cayman, Hawaii…(now I’m just bragging)

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BLURB for Reckless, part of the Martini Club 4 series

Lady Margaret turned Lady Bootlegger…

Singer Margaret (Meggie) Montley needs money…fast. Her friend is in a dire situation with nowhere to turn. While Meggie is on the brink of stardom, it’s not soon enough to save her friend.

Harry Dempsey is out to avenge the deaths of his father and brother at the hands of a ruthless gangster. But trouble spirals out of control when Meggie Montley shows up the night he meets his nemesis to settle the score. Saving the impetuous woman from a crime lord might be easier than saving her from her own reckless behavior.






“He’ll be here. He’ll be here,” Butch snapped.

“What the hell is his name?”

Butch barked out a laugh. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Harry? I’ve never seen you this out of sorts. Ah, need a boff, do ya? I saw you talking to Alyce. I’m pretty sure—”

Meggie cringed. Did Harry have a thing for “The Kitchen”?

“That’s enough,” Harry growled. “His name.”

“Sid. Flash is sending him over. Keep an eye out for him, I’ll be in the office if you need me.” Butch slipped inside.

This was it. Now or never. Meggie pulled her cap down over her brow and stepped from her hidden place among the bushes.

“Sid? ’Bout damn time,” Harry said. “Let’s go.”

With a steady pace, Meggie edged her way to Harry, knees threatening to give way. Harry’s mood kept her quiet and watchful. With the grace of mountain lion, he leaped up in the bed of the truck. Her first real attack of fear slammed her when she gaged the height at which she’d need to somehow maneuver and appear masculine. She stole a glance at Harry who watched her, with curled lips. She threw out a gloved hand. The curled lip shifted to a disgusted smirk, but with a grunt he hauled her up. Just like the Harry she believed him to be.

He banged on the ceiling and the truck jerked into motion, tossing her to the straw covered floor.

Lightweight. Harry turned his gaze out to the street. The boy couldn’t have been more than sixteen, though that mustache was pretty full for one so young and slight. “You been doing this long, Sid?” His shirt was too damned white.

The kid just grunted, leaned back and pulled his cap further over his face.

Harry decided to do the same. No sense wasting unnecessary words. These weren’t the assignments where a man made lifelong friends. Pelham was an hour’s drive. They’d catch the boat out to the Long Island Sound. Hell, he’d be lucky to make it home by six.

The depth of night meant less traffic and faster time. The usual sixty minute trek took forty-five. The truck lurched to a stop and Harry jumped out. The kid attempted the same, barely avoiding a conk on his head but for Harry’s grab on his arm. The maneuver sent his cap flailing. Jesus, the kid needed food, he had no muscle.

Harry narrowed his eyes on the brown, lackluster hair tied back with a black strap. Sid jerked his arm from Harry’s hold and swooped his cap from the ground.

A whiff of something vaguely familiar—soft and floral, flowers of the hothouse variety, tingled his nostrils. A not-so-good feeling started deep in Harry’s gut. The kid jammed his cap on his head, stepping back. Roses.

“Meggie,” he whispered harshly.

The kid whipped his head around, facing him, mustache slightly off center. Angled like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

“What the fu—” He stopped himself from letting his vulgar language touch such delicate ears.

“Boat’s ready for you, cap’n.”

Harry jerked ramrod straight. “Give us a minute, Marco.”

“Sure thing, cap’n, but time’s a wastin’, they won’t give you too long. You know the score.”

“Yeah, yeah. I said a minute,” he growled. He turned back to his companion, fury surging through his veins. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He kept his voice to a whisper. The danger temperature just hit the hundred mark.

Her brilliant eyes flashed. “I need blunt. And this seemed the quickest way to obtain it.” Her clipped British accent was low but definitely the same distinct voice that haunted his dreams night after night.

“The butt of a cigar? What the hell are you talking about?” The effort to keep his voice low was building the pressure in his skull.

“Money. Cash. Currency,” she said just as hotly.

“For what!”

“For—” she stopped, mouth gaping. It snapped shut. “Never you mind—cap’n—I-I have my reasons.”

“I’ll give you the god damned money. How much?” He glanced over his shoulder.

A figure stood on the bow of the boat. “What’s the hold up, cap’n? Time’s a’wastin’.”

She followed his gaze. “One thousand dollars.”

“One thous—are you out of your fuc—” Harry pulled himself up. “What the hell for?”

“Keep your voice down.” She raised herself up. She looked magnificent, despite the crooked mustache. Only where the hell were her curves?

“What for?”

Her gaze dropped to her feet. “I can’t say.”

“God almighty. Do you know what kind of people these are? What kind of danger you’re putting yourself in? Me in?”

That jerked her head up.

“These men don’t give a shit whether you are the biggest star on the Silver Screen or the lowest life in the subway.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Tears glinted on her lashes.

“Oh, for God’s sake. You’ll damn sure give us away if you blubber like a girl.” He squinted out in the dark. “I can’t very well leave you here. You’ll have to come with me.” He rested his gaze back on her. “Keep that hat low on your head and don’t say a fucking word. If they kill me, you can bet when they find your body there won’t be anything recognizable.” He felt like an ass letting the curse words fly. But if something happened to her—it didn’t bear thinking about. Then, to see her lips tremble. Hell. “I don’t suppose you know how to use a gun.”

“I-I used one on stage once,” she whispered.

Compressing his lips, he tugged the Luger from his trousers at his lower back, hidden beneath his jacket. “Damn thing’s loaded.” He grabbed her hand, its utter femininity reaching through her glove. How had he missed that when he’d hauled her into the truck? He was an idiot.

Shoving away fear that centered deep within his belly, he positioned the gun in her hand, showing her the proper hold. “If you have to shoot, try to aim it in someone else’s direction. Stay behind me.”

He let out a held breath at her shaky nod.

“Let’s go. And straighten the mustache.”

Kathey Wheeler

Kathy L Wheeler has a BA degree from the University of Central Oklahoma in Management Information Systems that includes over forty credit hours of vocal music.  As a computer programmer the past fifteen years, she utilizes karaoke for her vocal music talents. Other passions include travel, fantasy football, NBA and musical theatre. She is a long time member of several RWA Chapters, including OKRWA, DARA, and The Beau Monde. As an avid reader of romance and patron of the theatre, her main sources of inspiration come mostly from an over-active imagination. She currently resides in Edmond, Oklahoma with her musically talented, attorney husband, Al, and their bossy cat, Carly.

Visiting Bath by Rachel Brimble

Visiting Bath & A Weekend with Teri Wilson…

I am lucky enough to live just a short thirty minute drive from one of the most famous cities in the world…Bath, England. Taking this into consideration, how could I not write historical romances? My career started by writing contemporary romantic suspense and mainstream contemporary romances, but all too soon the sights of Bath poked and prodded at my muse until I had no choice be to sit up and take notice.

Bath is probably most famous for the Roman, Georgian and Regency eras, but none of these periods were as appealing as my already established love for all things Victorian. If I was going to attempt an historical––which terrified me––I had to choose an era I found fascinating, so the Victorian period won!

What A Woman Desires is the third Victorian book in my series with eKensington/Lyrical Press (although they can be read stand-alone), and I am currently writing the fourth. My books are darker romances because the majority of the characters are lower class, with a sprinkling of the upper classes, so the issues are a lot more intense than balls and dances. Be warned, lol!

Me & Teri - Jane Austen centre

When an online friend, Teri Wilson contacted me to say she was flying in from Texas for a visit to the UK, I couldn’t wait to take her to Bath. This was the first time Teri and I had met so it was such an exciting time! It happened to be the week of the 2013 Jane Austen Festival which was perfect. Teri and I had so much laughter, chat and fun, I truly didn’t want our short forty-eight hours together end. We watched the parade, visited The Guildhall where we watched dancing, tried on hats (and moustaches) and even had our palms read. After a bizarre show in the evening (which I’m still not entirely sure was about eighteen months later), we were exhausted and said good night before finishing the next day with a lecture on the seedier side of Bath during the 19th century…which was, of course, of immense interest to me!

Bath is a place of great history, amazing architecture and fabulous sights – if you haven’t been, add Bath to your bucket list. You won’t be disappointed.

Oh, and my parting tip – do not order a veggie burger from the local cafes…Teri knows why!

Brimble Cover


From country girl to actress of the stage, one woman dares to live her dreams—but is she brave enough to open her heart…?

Monica Danes always wanted more than the village of Biddestone had to offer. After a failed courtship to a man of her parents’ choosing, she fled for the city of Bath and never looked back. Today, Monica is the undisputed queen of the theater—a wealthy, independent woman. But when she is called home in the wake of tragedy, Monica returns—intending to leave again as soon as possible.

Thomas Ashby has been a groom at the Danes estate since he was a boy—and has been enamored with Monica for almost as long. He knows he isn’t a suitable match for his master’s daughter, despite the special bond he and Monica have always shared—and their undeniable attraction. But now that she’s returned, Thomas has one last chance to prove himself worthy—and to show Monica a life, and a love, she won’t want to give up…


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Rachel lives with her husband and two teenage daughters in a small town near Bath in the UK. After having several novels published by small US presses, she secured agent representation in 2011. In 2012, she sold two books to Harlequin Superromance and a further three in 2013. She also writes Victorian romance for Kensington–her debut was released in April 2013, followed by a second in January 2014 and the third is released Jan 2015.

Rachel is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America, and was selected to mentor the Superromance finalist of So You Think You Can Write 2014 contest. When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Rachel with her head in a book or walking the beautiful English countryside with her family and beloved black Lab, Max. Her dream place to live is Bourton-on-the-Water in South West England.

She likes nothing more than connecting and chatting with her readers and fellow romance writers. Rachel would love to hear from you!






Facebook Street Team – Rachel’s Readers

Guest Promotion–Fated To Be Yours

Fated to be Yours

Fated To be Yours, 2015 Collection from the Heart


Flowers and Fangs

Derek Hayes and his family are preternatural hunters. Stake and dust is their motto, but Derek has a difficult time accepting his sworn duty when Sloane McBride, his ex-girlfriend from high school, is the one he’s been sent to eliminate. Once infected from a Nosferatu bite, there is no turning back. Sloane has been bitten and she will eventually change.

It proves a race against time when Derek puts aside his core beliefs and teams up with Sloane. The Nosferatu wants Sloane for his own bloody Valentine, Derek’s brothers are hunting her, and every second brings Sloane closer to changing into the very fiend they want to kill.

Other titles in the Anthology:

Ring for a Lady by Gerald Costlow

A Season for Love by Linda Swift

Cupid’s Beau by Nan O’Berry

Flowers and Fangs_couple_dramaticII_blackandWhite
Sloane and Derek


She was halfway up the stairs when someone knocked at her front door.

Lad’s ears perked up and a low growl vibrated from the back of his throat. Her gaze landed on her lab with a frown. Lad usually loved everyone. Who could be at her front door that had him agitated? She strode over to it and peeked out the peephole. She half expected Freddy Kruger to be standing there by the way Lad’s fur stood up on end, and the snarl he produced to go along with his bad fur day. She sighed in relief when she recognized her visitor. She threw opened the door with a smile.

Lad came bounding to the door, snarling in rapid barks. She’d never seen him act like that—ever. “Lad, sit. It’s only Tim.” She didn’t understand her dog’s weird behavior.

Lad backed up, but his stance clearly indicated he would take out Tim’s throat if she only gave the word. She turned toward Tim who gave her a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe it’s my new aftershave.”

She pursed her lips. “Give me a sec. I’ll put him out back.”


It took her a few minutes. Lad didn’t want to obey her. She had to drag him outside and sprint for the door, slamming it shut, just to keep him outside. He continued to bark and snarl, but she would have to ignore him for now.

She hurried to the front door. Tim still stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe. He stood up straight when he caught sight of her. For a brief second, she could have sworn his eyes had an eerie glow to them, like a pair of eyes looking back from a thicket, warning her of danger, but she blinked and his eyes were the same soft brown color she’d remembered.

“Are you going to ask me in?” His brows lifted in question. He must be feeling better. He looked a little pale, not feverish. It was good to know the flu would only last twenty-four hours.

“Sure, but I must warn you I think I caught what you had a few days ago.”

“I’ve already been exposed and I doubt I’ll catch it twice,” he said.

She opened the screen and stepped aside. She frowned when he didn’t move. “Well, come in already.”

His lips slid into a grin, but the smile made her uneasy. Something was off with him, had been for a few days.

Before she could shut the door, he pulled her flush against him. She gasped in surprise and he chuckled. “Don’t be scared.”

Funny, how those words sent a chill down her spine. “I’m not scared.”

“Your heart is beating fast.”

Her brows drew together. “How do—” She didn’t have a chance to finish her question. He captured her lips and her words were swallowed into a passionate caress. His tongue swept inside her mouth and she met his passion, but something pricked her lip and she drew back in alarm. Her hand flew to her mouth. When she looked at her fingers, she spotted drops of blood coloring the tips. “You bit me.” Again, she thought the last to herself.

“You say it as if it is a bad, thing.” He stalked toward her. This time there was no mistake; his eyes gleamed with a weird sheen before turning red. Red? What the heck was going on? When he grinned she caught sight of two pointed incisors. Vampire came to mine, but that was insane. Self-consciously, she touched the side of her neck where he had bitten her the other night and stumbled back a few steps.

Tim’s mouth quirked and a low menacing chuckle greeted her. “I can see your wheels are turning inside that pretty little head of yours, but I’ll make it simple, unlike how my brother did for me. I’m a vampire. You know—the kind that drinks blood and all that.”

The kind that drank blood—was there another kind? She shook her head. “That’s impossible. You’ve been ill. You must be…running a fever.”

“I’ve never felt better.” He shook his head and kept grinning like he’d given her the best news. He took another step toward her. “I can make you feel good, too.”

“Stay back.” She bumped into the wall, separating the kitchen from the living room and quickly sidestepped.

“But I can’t stay away from you. You invited me in and I’m soooo hungry.” His gaze roved over her like she was a delectable treat he’d been anticipating sinking his teeth into.

She whirled away from him, attempting to run, but it was useless. He was upon her in a second, spinning her around to face him and slamming her against the kitchen counter. She ignored the sudden jar to her body and pushed at his chest, but he was so strong…so very strong. “Let me go, Tim.” His fangs lengthened. “Oh God, no!” She would have screamed but a deep baritone voice, from somewhere behind Tim, halted her cries.

“I believe the lady asked you to let her go.”

Tim’s body went rigid as if rigor mortis had set in and turned his body to stone.

Curiosity proved too strong and she chanced a peek around Tim’s shoulder. A man with dark reddish brown hair and eyes as green as a cats stood there in the archway of her kitchen with a medieval crossbow aimed at Tim’s back.

This time she did scream.



Amazon UK



author pic Karen and Jack_2014_2 IMG_2596

Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, historical or time travel, all of Karen Michelle Nutt’s stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.

When she’s not time traveling, fighting outlaws, or otherworldly creatures, she creates pre-made book covers to order at Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”.


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Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”




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Guest promotion–The Widow’s Gallery by Marilyn Baron


part of the Lobster Cove series, published by The Wild Rose Press


Childless heiress Abigail Adams Longley and three other widows bond over a Renaissance masterpiece in Florence, Italy, and find love, friendship and joy in their joint venture to open an art gallery at the Longley mansion in Lobster Cove, Maine.

Since the death of her husband, Abigail has been lonely and drifting in a house that’s too big and a town that’s too small. When she literally runs into sexy widower and whale-watching excursion captain Tack Garrity on the dock, she’s entranced by his adorable five-year-old daughter. But will Tack, who has harbored a secret crush on Abigail for almost two decades, be able to capture her heart?


Abigail Adams Longley looked aroundat the three women flanking her in Hall 10/14 of the Uffizi Gallery. They were all staring at The Birth of Venus like wide-eyed art students. Admittedly, the painting was as compelling as when the Medici family originally commissioned the tempera on canvas in the fifteenth century. But for Abigail, seeing the painting again wasn’t cathartic. It was beautiful, but that wasn’t the feeling she was going for. Peace. Why couldn’t she get some goddamned peace in this life?


Abigail glanced at the square-cut, four-carat diamond on her finger, gazed at the sparkle of the ring she hadn’t removed since the day Louis had proposed. And now, a whole year after his death, she still hadn’t taken it off. Conventional wisdom dictated that you weren’t supposed to make any major life decisions until a year after a spouse’s death. Well, it had been a year already, and she hadn’t wanted to make even one decision—major or minor—about where to live, where to go, or what to do. Whoever said money can’t buy happiness had devised another dead-on axiom. She had all the money in the world—in fact Louis had left her a big chunk of the globe. He’d left her set for life, monetarily. But she would have traded every cent for the chance to be with him again. Louis was gone, and the sooner she faced the fact that she was alone on this planet, the better off she’d be.


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Marilyn Baron

Marilyn Baron is a public relations consultant in Atlanta. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America and Georgia Romance Writers (GRW), recipient of the GRW 2009 Chapter Service Award and winner or finalist in writing awards in single title, suspense romance, novel with strong romantic elements and paranormal romance. To find out more about Marilyn’s books and stories, visit

 Web contacts:

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Blog Link—Marilyn blogs with Savvy Authors on the 22nd of each month at


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Guest Interview–Andrea Stehle

Today I’m interviewing a friend from the San Antonio Romance Authors, Andrea Stehle.

Tell us a bit about you and your background.

I am a high school Latin teacher and have been for 25 years.  I have a degree in Classics from the University of Texas.

I discovered the world of mythology back in middle school when I decided to read The Odyssey.  I loved classical mythology from that moment on, and I always include it in my Latin classes.

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

I enjoy theatre – both watching and performing.  Recently I have had the pleasure of sharing the stage with my daughters at the Zion Theatre in Helotes, Texas.  February 2015 marks my debut as a playwright and director for the theatre department at Stevens High School.  We will be doing my Star Wars version of Oedipus Rex and Antigone in the Black Box.

Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

I use the MUSE method.  I create the world and the characters first.  I even have a basic story arc in mind, but once I sit at the computer and begin writing, the story takes on a life of its own.  I often don’t know how the scene will end until my characters start talking and interacting.  I can understand why the ancient Greeks believed that inspiration was a gift from the Olympians.

Have you traveled to any locations that appear in your books?

I wish I could visit Arcadia (a planet thousands of years in the future filled with classical mythology), but the closest I have ever been are the ruins of Delphi on Mt Parnassus.  I actually sat in the ruins of Apollo’s temple and invoked the Muses to inspire my words.  The poem I wrote is about the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius.  Not surprising the ruins of Pompeii had been a previous stop on the tour.  I use the poem with my students to this day.

In what genre do you read?

I am a huge sci-fi and fantasy fan.  I love Anne McCaffrey’s DragonRiders of Pern and Frank Herbert’s Dune.  I am also addicted to romance novels.  Their “love conquers all” endings always bring me to tears.

What resources do you use for picking character names?

Although I get many of the names for characters from classical mythology and history, I also use the names of my students for minor characters.  I recently discovered that might be a problem.  The other day I was writing a scene where a citizen of Metropolis was attacked by a manticore.  I had intended to have him die of his wounds, but I suddenly couldn’t do it, because he was named for one of my students.

Are you a pet person? If so, what do you have?

There are three cats in my home; my daughter’s cat, Phoebe, my mother’s cat, Problem, and my cat, Xena.   No dogs allowed.

What do you hope readers gain from your stories?

I once watched Rick Riordan [author of Percy Jackson YA series] captivate a room full of young readers with his story.  He made them see that mythology is cool, and many of my students learn to love classical mythology because of his books.  I want to inspire young people to love mythology, too.  I love teaching about the classical world.  I hope my books entertain and give me a much larger classroom.


Gods of Arcadia: Daughter of Athena is a sci-fi/fantasy with romantic elements.  It is an INDIE publication through Mind of Minerva.

Eons ago the gods of Mt. Olympus ruled over the developing civilization of ancient Greece.  From the heights of their mountain retreat the gods manipulated and forced mankind to their will.  But one day the Olympians grew bored with the mundane world – as immortals are predisposed to do.  They looked away from their children for just a moment and the Earth changed.  No longer were the names Zeus, Hera, and Athena whispered with awe and terror, but forgotten until they were nothing more than myths from the dawn of time.  To their regret the Olympians discovered no amount of manipulation or terror could bring mankind back into the fold, and so they were obliged to start again.

Transplanting a small group of humans to the distant world of Arcadia, the gods created their own perfect Utopian society.  In their self-absorbed way each Olympian reigned over a cult of followers in a personal city-state where their word was law.  To promote harmony, the Great Law of the Olympians sought to suppress the volatile nature of humanity by forbidding war on Arcadia. Unfortunately, the Olympians learned nothing is ever perfect.  Once every hundred years the Son of Ares is born to disturb the delicate balance of their world.

Although Ardella of New Athens was the chosen of Athena, blessed with the gift of empathy, she was young and naïve.  She made the ultimate mistake – she allowed the Son of Ares to manipulate her and escape.  Almost a decade later, the Daughter of Athena is still battling the chaos caused by that moment of weakness, when her brother is captured by the enemy.

To save her twin, Ardella travels to Metropolis, the fortress at the heart of the Son of Ares’ empire, and offers herself in exchange.  Exiled in a strange new city, the Daughter of Athena soon learns that the enemy she had come to know reading reports in her Tower in New Athens is not the same as the one she now faces in the thriving, very human culture of Metropolis.  Bewildered by her growing admiration for the Son of Ares, Ardella must not only save her brother, but decide if she stands with or against the Gods of Arcadia.




Gods of Arcadia: Daughter of Athena was named the 2015 Best Sci-Fi/Fantasy by the Texas Association of Authors.  Andrea will be accepting this award on the steps of the state capital in April.


“Great journey into a whole new world. It would make a good movie. If you enjoy mythology you would enjoy this book.” - Sandra M.

“The book catches your attention right away. It was hard to put down. Looking forward to next in the series.” – D. Pate


As I knocked on Galynda’s door as the midday sun beat down upon paving stones which in turn warmed my sandaled feet.  I glance up at the star that gave life to Arcadia and thought of the sunrise ceremony for Apollo.  As I waited for the door to open, I suddenly remembered a story I had read in one of the many books from Athena’s archive.  It was from the classical mythology of ancient Earth and it told the story of how the god Apollo drove the chariot of the sun across the sky.   I smiled as I tried to imagine the handsome giant standing silently in Heliopolis’ harbor guiding magical horses pulling the sun behind him.   Our ancestors on Earth had such primitive beliefs.

The Olympians were immortal and had many powers that might seem magical to primitive humans, but where had they come up with such a fantastic tale as Apollo pulling the chariot of the sun across the sky or the seasons being caused by Demeter’s anger.  I finally became so curious, I asked Athena herself.

She explained that the Olympians had lived together on Mt. Olympus far removed from the people in Greece who worshiped them.  It had been a mistake, because the people made up stories about their Gods called myths.  The stories stuck and the Olympians didn’t see the harm in such tales until centuries later when they were used by skeptics to suggest the Gods did not really exist.  It was the dark period of unbelief on Earth that had shaped the nature of Arcadia.

Here each Olympian lives with their followers, so the people would never doubt the Gods were real.  No one on Arcadia would make up or believe such fantastic tales as the myths of ancient Greece, because they have seen the Gods with their own eyes.  Living among humans, the Olympians have been able to shape our societies and guide our footsteps like a trusted parent.  And keep a closer eye on us so we don’t stray into the darkness like our ancestors on Earth.

“Lady Ardella?” I heard Galynda’s voice ask from the doorway.  I had been so lost in thought I not even heard the door open and it took a moment for me to come back to the present and the reason for my visit.

“Lady Galynda, I was hoping to speak to you,” I said.

“Just Galynda,” she replied with a hint of annoyance in her voice and in her mind.

“What?” I asked unsure of what had caused her irritation with me.

“I am a citizen of Metropolis like any other.  I have no title or rank,” Galynda explained.

“I meant no offense,” I murmured.  “I just assumed since you were the sister of the Strategos you would addressed with a title of respect due your role in the ruling class of Metropolis.”

“You are a long way from New Athens, Lady Ardella.  There is no ruling class, or scholarly class, or servant class here.  Everyone in Metropolis is equal.”

“Of course, Galynda.  I am just learning the ways of Metropolis.  Please forgive me for my lack of knowledge,” I offered sincerely and I felt her irritation give way to guilt.

“I’m sorry, Lady Ardella.  I didn’t mean to be rude,” she said honestly.  “Please come in.”

“Thank you,” I said entering her home.

“I am very proud of the way of life we have established here in Metropolis.  I must learn not to be so sensitive,” Galynda explained, her feelings of pride strongly flowing from her heart.

“I have felt a similar sense of pride in many of the citizens of Metropolis.  It has been a surprise for me to learn about the nature of your city firsthand.”

“Most of our society and its customs are based upon the traditions of our ancestors on Earth that Alexander learned from your crystal reader.”

“Are you referring to the crystal reader with the better part of the Academy library stored on it that your brother stole from me?”

“I would love to hear that story,” Galynda laughed.

“Perhaps another time, Galynda.”  I sighed softly.   I took a deep breath and continued,   “I have come to you with the first excerpt of the Book of Artemis. The parts I have translated are the history of the conflict between the Amazons and the followers of Artemis.  I am only about a third of the way through the book, so have no idea what the rest might contain,” I said handing her the pages.

“Thank you.  I look forward to reading the pages.  I can return them to you when I have finished.”

“The pages are yours to keep and share with the others. I want the new followers of Artemis to have access to all the knowledge about their Goddess.  I will keep translating every chance I get.”

“And you are certain there is no payment required for this knowledge?”

“For the knowledge?  No!  I could, however, use some additional paper on which to translate.”

“I believe I can arrange for the paper,” she said smiling.  After a moment her brows furrowed and she asked, “What does that mean ‘translate’?”

“Oh!  Let me show you.”  I said pulling the Book of Artemis from my bag.  I handed the small leather-bound tome to Alexander’s sister.   I watched as she opened the book and a puzzled look crossed her face.  I felt her surge of confusion and suspicion.

“I recognize the letters.  Why can’t I read the words?”

“It is in an ancient Earth language called Latin.  Very few people on Arcadia can still read it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“On Arcadia today we all speak and write in a common tongue.  The Olympians wanted it that way to facilitate communication among our sects.  Our ancestors on ancient Earth, however, had many different cultures and many different languages.”

“And the Olympians preserved one of these ancient languages?”

“Athena did.   I learned to read Latin in an advanced course at the Academy after I became a member of Athena’s Council.”

“The Athenian sect has a secret language no one else on Arcadia can even read.”


I am a Latin teacher at John Paul Stevens High School in San Antonio, Texas.  I have always loved classical mythology.  I earned my degree in Classics from the University of Texas at Austin in 1989.   I have three beautiful daughters–Monica, Amanda & Linda.


Guest Release–Martini Club 4

A four-book series by four authors set in the Roaring Twenties

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Blurb for Ruined by Alicia Dean:

After the Earl of Goodwin attempts to force himself on her, housemaid Eliza Gilbert flees England for New York, hoping to build a better life. But the land of opportunity proves as harsh as the London docks, and she finds herself in a situation more dreadful than the one she escaped.

When Vince Taggart’s childhood friend disappears, he heads to New York in search of her and meets Eliza, a woman with a less than honorable reputation. Inexplicably captivated, Vince can’t force himself to stay away, especially when he learns Eliza may be the key to finding his missing friend.



The next night at Oscar’s party, Eliza tried to put the missing girls out of her mind. The penthouse was filled with people; everyone seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.

She moved across the room and chatted with Oscar’s guests. Her enthusiasm for the position had dimmed, but really, she’d overreacted at the Jubilee. Betty and her husband had been nice people. The music and dancing were incredible. She’d never seen people move like that. Other than some uncomfortable pawing, Betty had been right, Gregor hadn’t made a pass at her. She could do this. The money was fabulous, and employment was not easy to find—especially for a female immigrant.

She forced herself to relax and enjoy the party. She’d been here for three hours, and Oscar hadn’t asked her—correction, insisted—that she leave with anyone. Maybe this would be like the other nights and she could just mingle and drink and entertain guests—here, under Oscar’s roof. Tonight, she wore the last of her new gowns, a black, figure hugging knee-length with fringe along the hem that went down to her ankles. She felt daring…pretty, even. She’d have to go shopping if she didn’t want to start rotating the same dresses all over again. At least she had plenty of funds to buy new things. Oscar had been more than generous. His many moods confused her. He could scare the bloody daylights out of her one moment, then become kind and giving in the next.

Oscar and a tall man with thick, dark hair approached. “Eliza, my dear, I would like you to meet Thomas Killman.”

She took his hand. He was handsome, if a little fleshy. “How do you do.”

“Delighted, my dear.” He bent and placed a wet kiss on the back of her hand. She resisted the urge to rub the saliva off on her dress.

“I would like you to be Mr. Killman’s companion for the evening.”

Eliza smiled. At least she wouldn’t have to leave with this one. “Of course. It will be my pleasure.”

His brows lifted, and a broad smile broke over his face. “Indeed?”

Oscar took her arm and led her a few paces away, out of Mr. Killman’s earshot. “This is going to be a little different arrangement tonight. You’ll have to be extra nice to him.”

“I’m always nice, Oscar. I smile and I’m polite. I even let them kiss me if they want. I will be his escort for the entire evening. As late as he wants.”

“That’s fine. But he’s going to want more than an escort.” He narrowed his eyes. “More than a kiss.”

“More than a kiss?” Her heart thudded madly. “I—I don’t understand.”

“Eliza, please. You aren’t really that naïve, are you? You will have sex with him.”

The room spun and her ears rang. She must not have heard him correctly. “Wh—what did you say?” The words came out in a squeak from her strangled throat.

“I believe you know exactly what I said.”

The world dropped out from under her. She would not do something so, so depraved.

“No!” She’d meant to keep her voice low, but when heads turned her way, she realized she’d shouted the word.

All pretense of civility left Oscar’s features. He tightened his lips and gripped her arm. “You heard me. You’ll have to sleep with him. All the other girls do that sort of thing. You’ve just managed to avoid it so far. But he picked you.”

This was the reason she left England. Her mother warned her on her deathbed that once the Earl was gone, she needed to run. Lord Renwald would make her his whore. She’d run, but not far enough. She’d barely escaped the same thing Oscar was trying to make her.

*** Available now for Amazon pre-order for only 99¢ – Regular price will be $2.99 when the stories release on February 26!***

This book is part of a fun series I did in conjunction with three of my writer friends. We have been meeting for martinis at the Martini Lounge in Edmond, Oklahoma nearly every Friday for the past four years. From those get-togethers, we developed the idea to write a series centered around a Martini Club. Those stories are finally completed, and we’re pleased to present the Martini Club 4 series…

Rebellious by Amanda McCabe – Can an aristocratic lady melt the cold heart of a Russian gangster?

Ruined by Alicia Dean – She vowed she’d be no man’s doxy, but fate had other plans.

Reckless by Kathy L Wheeler – Lady Margaret turned Lady Bootlegger.

Runaway by Krysta Scott – Can she prove her innocence before more than her dreams are destroyed?

Find all four at this link

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Left to Right: Krysta Scott, Amanda McCabe, Kathy L Wheeler, Alicia Dean

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Twitter: @Alicia_Dean_
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My Sexy Saturday–When Lonely Hearts Meet


This week’s theme is a sexy date. What is more sexy that dancing together for the first time? Here are 7 paragraphs from my Valentine’s Day-themed short story, When Lonely Hearts Meet, the second title in my Sugar & Spice Bakery series.

“God, I haven’t heard this George Strait song in years.” He stood and grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s kick up our heels.”

As she followed him to the square of rapidly filling space, she marveled again at their similar tastes. Years had passed since she’d danced. Within a few steps, they were in synch and he moved her through twists and turns like they’d always danced together. Every new tune that played was one he liked, so they remained on the floor, song after song. Responding to the surprise round of applause, she curtseyed and Wade bowed to their appreciative audience. Laughter bubbled up from deep inside her. Everything about this man felt so right. Why did he have to live so far from her home?

Out of breath and toes aching, Clover jerked her head toward the back corner where they’d left their drinks. “Take a rest?”

Wade threw an arm over her shoulders and steered her through the maze of tables and benches. “Hell, that was a lotta fun.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his damp hair before sitting opposite her.

She grabbed her bottle and slugged down the rest of her beer. Hair clung to her cheeks and she shook her head to loosen it.

Planting his forearms on the table, Wade leaned forward. “Do you know how sexy you look?”

“Stop that.” But inside, she glowed from his compliment.


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Guest release–Agent S5: Jaydan by Joni Hahn


Agent S5- Jaydan_Hahn


Now that he’s part of the D.I.R.E. Agency’s elite squad of super-powered agents, Jaydan Rose is walking the straight and narrow.

Days away from his estranged brother’s wedding, Jaydan gets a lead on the missing sister-in-law of Riordan “Saint” St. James, a fellow agent.  If he can locate her, perhaps he can make up for not being there when Saint had needed him most.

As the only daughter of one of the richest men in the world, Hope Powers wants to be taken seriously.   If she can prove the D.I.R.E. Agency needs her new software application, she’ll have the credibility and position she craves.

When she threatens to search for the missing woman with or without him, Jaydan’s conscience compels him to take her.  However, when their quest uncovers scandalous secrets and decades old dangers, they realize they’ve stumbled onto something bigger than themselves.


“Les, why is your father calling me?”

Shutting her eyes against the dread that settled in her chest, she groaned to herself. She couldn’t open that door. If she did, she’d make a complete fool of herself.

Walking over to the dresser, she checked her phone. Three missed calls and a text. Her father must’ve checked his DNA tracker and realized she was in Hawaii.


Looking at the door, she spoke in a raised voice. “Um, I’m not sure. Why don’t you call him back?”

Jaydan chuckled in the hallway. “You didn’t tell him you were coming to Hawaii, did you?”

Swallowing hard, she gave her chin a determined tilt. “I don’t report my whereabouts to my father. I’m not a child.”

His sardonic chuckle angered her.

Storming over to the door, she told herself she had to remember this. During those smokin’ hot visions, she had to conjure up this memory and the dozens like it she’d experienced in the past.

“Hell princess, you –“

She whipped open the door to arms’ length. Jaydan stood naked in her doorway, save for a pair of gray, athletic shorts that hung low on his hips. Water droplets hung from his dark, wavy hair and dotted his broad shoulders. His arms and shoulders looked huge, the angles and braids of muscle sharp rather than round, the sinew dense and inflexible rather than pliant flesh. His sculpted torso was covered in hard, ridged muscles with a light dusting of dark hair. He smelled of rosewood and jasmine, his copper and gold armbands branding him a masculine god.

Now, she understood his cougar-like grace, his confident saunter. No man on earth could call himself cut as long as Jaydan Rose walked around. He epitomized the term.

His eyes swirled with dark desire, their focus on her chest. Glancing down, she saw her robe gaped open, exposing the cleavage between her breasts.

She should cover herself. Close the door and walk away. Yet, she stood there, allowing him his fill while she took her fill of him. The sensation started deep inside, her mind recalling the vision, her body readying itself for him.

There was more than one way to prove she wasn’t a child.

With a hesitant reach, she feathered her fingers down the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles contracted beneath her touch, rippling behind her caress in a symphony of sensuality.

His half smile made her toes curl, his voice a husky croon.  “My turn.”



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Joni HahnBy day, Joni Hahn keeps her secret decoder ring hidden while she works as a mild-mannered HR manager and accounting generalist. She believes the world can never have too many superheroes, and anxiously waits for the call when one will need help saving the world… or getting into his costume. Joni was born with a hopelessly tender heart and believes there is nothing on earth more exhilarating than falling in love. A native Texan, she thinks cowboys are the epitome of masculinity, and that country music is the other soul music.

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Author Interview–R.L. Ugolini

Today I have a friend, R.L. Ugolini, from the San Antonio Romance Authors as my interview guest.

Tell us a bit about you and your background

I lived in California off and on for ten years, studying geology, reading books, and writing stories. I loved it there even though the ground never seemed to stop shaking. I think I lived through some of the largest earthquakes to rock Southern California in recent decades.

The Landers Quake (magnitude 7.3) hit while I was sleeping, dreaming that someone was trying to wake me up, violently shaking me from my bed.

Only three hours later, the Big Bear Quake (magnitude 6.5) struck. This time, a neighbor did get me out of bed, worried for my safety.

I was, unfortunately, wide awake for the Northridge Quake (6.7 magnitude). This one came early in the morning after I’d pulled an all-nighter working on a math problem set. Sleep deprivation made the shaking seem catastrophic – I was sure the floor was going to collapse under me. I think I may have received an extension on the math.

After that, I spent some time in calmer tectonic regions, working at the U.S. Geological Survey. But Southern Californian finally called me back, and within days of my return, the Hector Mine Earthquake (7.1) rumbled through, as if welcoming me home.

What are your hobbies away from the computer?

I love to be outside. I spend a lot of time gardening, hiking, biking, and stargazing. This winter, I am shopping for rock to edge a small seating area I have created in my back yard. I love going to landscape supply lots, walking down the long aisles, past pallets and pallets of rock, and trying to decide between Monterrey and Pueblo Sunset sandstones.

Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

I have tackled projects both ways. However, I am learning I work much faster and with more confidence when I take the time to plot. Quakes was heavily plotted, right down to the phase of the moon.

If you use music while writing, name your favorite types.

I like to listen to music only if it can blend into the background. Sometimes, that means playing something I’ve heard a bazillion times. One of my favorites is an old Dwight Yoakam CD. By the time he gets to the chorus of This Drinkin’ll Kill Me, I’ve found my writing flow.

Have you traveled to any locations that appear in your books?

I’ve taken quite a few trips through the lonesome corners of Baja Mexico. I’ve scaled sandstone sea cliffs, unearthed ammonite fossils, run from rifle-waving landowners, and spent some of the most glorious days I’ve ever lived under the warm Mexican sun.

So much about my time in Baja inspired me to write Quakes, but one particular episode stands out.

We’d been driving all day and into the night when we pulled over to make camp. The ground was soft and sandy, the Pacific ebbing and flowing heavily somewhere close by. Moisture filled the air with a fine mist. There was no moon. Too dark to see anything and too tired to put up tents, we simply crawled inside our sleeping bags and surrendered to dreamless sleep.

When dawn broke, it brought clear skies, warm sun, and mooing. Sometime in the early morning, a herd of cattle had moved in to graze. We were surrounded on all sides by rheumy-eyed, cud-chewing beasts.

Thankfully, the cows were more interested in the grass we’d bedded down on than our persons. As we hastily rolled up our bags and made our way back to our vehicles, we took our bearings. Our makeshift campsite was on pastureland atop a bluff. Far below, the ocean glittered in the morning light, a sea breeze coming off the water. We gathered round a strong pot of coffee and watched fishermen wrestle with their nets. When a friendly goat wandered over, we shared our breakfast.

Everything felt so elemental and so vivid– the wind on our faces, the aroma of black coffee, the mews of cattle. I was there to study the geology of the region, but just then, I knew I would come away with so much more.

Do you write in a genre other than the one of this release?

I have written short stories for literary journals and for the horror market. One of my recent favorites, The Change, in Demonic Visions 50 Horror Tales Book 4, is a love story gone wrong, zombie-style.



Dr. Malcolm Reid goes out on his seismology expeditions alone, and he likes it that way. The fewer warm bodies he’s responsible for bringing home alive, the better.

When the mentorship of  a geology grad student is thrust upon him just as he’s leaving for Mexico’s Baja peninsula, he resigns himself to eight weeks of keeping her safe—from ATV-riding cattle rustlers, from a weather-worn mountain lion roaming the hills, and most of all from her accident-prone self.

Jenna Polaski has needed the canyon-sized chip on her shoulder to get ahead in the old boys’ education hierarchy. Now, needing samples to finish her thesis, she has no choice but to serve as the professor’s pack mule. And wonder if his limp is connected to rumors surrounding a long-ago incident that killed one of her predecessors.

Malcolm keeps a sharp eye out as they penetrate deep into the wilderness. But the one danger he forgets to watch for is the one that captures them both—an undeniable attraction that shatters all the rules.


Mal dropped both packs and walked close, leaning a hip against the vertical rock face. Holding her in his gaze, he tugged at his leather gloves, finally pulling them free and tucking them in his waistband.

“Do you recognize the stratigraphy?”

Her face fell. “Don’t you ever quit? I don’t want another geology lesson, Mal.”

He knew what she wanted, but pretended not to have heard the frustration in her voice. Mal traced a thin band of rust with his finger. “Notice the layering—”

“For God’s sake. Look around,” she said and waved her arms wide. “This place is amazing. Why does everything have to be about science?”

“That’s what we’re here for—”

“Why can’t we just relax and enjoy the rest of the day?”

“Just pal around? Be friends? Is that what you want, Jenna?” He took a half step closer, crowding her. “Or maybe you’d like me to whisper some more in your ear?”

He watched a slow crimson spread across her cheeks, and he regretted his words. So he hadn’t imagined her reaction back in the scrub. Exhaling, he focused his thoughts on his one comfort. Science.

“These are Cambrian units. This formation occurs in small pockets up and down Baja, but nothing quite like here.” He chanced a glance in her direction.

Her brown eyes had never seemed so large. Or so angry.

His chest tightened. “Do you recall the geologic timescale?”

With a shake of her head, she sighed. “The Cambrian is the oldest period of the Paleozoic era, and is generally agreed to have covered the time span between 570 and 500million years before present.”

Her rote answer grated. “Jenna.” Caution sharpened his voice.

In the quiet, he could hear her breathe. Shallow, rapid. He watched her chest rise and fall. The generous curve…

No. He swallowed hard. Think science.

But he couldn’t resist tweaking his lesson plan—just for her. “Imagine the swell of warm tides,” he said, “tumbling into shoals.”

A playful smile twitching her lips, she turned her gaze on him. “The swell of warm tides?”

He nodded. “Interwoven in the sandstone are some distinctive units like this one.” His forefinger picked at a thin maroon layer. Warmth flowed from the cliff wall into his palm. “Beautiful. So smooth—alive.”

“Alive?” Jenna reached out to touch the peach-colored sandstone, her skin blending with the rock. “These units are older than the dinosaurs.”

Mal hid a grin. “You’re correct, of course. But before creatures populated the land, the lush, tropical seas frothed with life.” He pointed to a sequence in the stratigraphy. “Relentless currents of nutrient-rich water ebbed and flowed over soft, fertile beds.”

She leaned against the cliff. “The sea floor must have teemed with plants.” Fire lit her eyes and she continued, “To withstand the powerful force of the tides, they must have had to sink their roots deep, driving them hard until they hit impenetrable rock…”

His heart thudded. “Exactly, Jenna. Colonies of flora and fauna lived, reproduced and died, always straining toward the hot Cambrian sun. For the first time in Earth’s history, predators appeared. They knew what they wanted and they went after it.”

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RLUgoliniR.L. Ugolini studied geology at the California Institute of Technology and has made maps for the US Geological Survey. She’s been in more earthquakes than she cares to remember, has hauled mountains of gear in Baja California and speaks very, very poor Spanish. She lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her husband.

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To learn more about R.L. Ugolini, please follow her on Twitter (@RLUgolini) and Goodreads


1 e-book copy of Quakes, selected at random from commenters posting questions to this blog post through midnight, Saturday, February 7th.

Guest Promotion–Lady Of The Night by M.J. Schiller


Blurb ~

Can she betray the man she loves to save him?

An explosion rips Darius away from Maggie. Everyone believes him to be dead, but in her heart she knows it’s not true.

Will he betray The Order to make his way back to her?

Darius’s captor wants information about Council members.  Will duty win out over love?

Will he betray his best friend for the woman he loves?

Orion has learned to keep his distance from Maggie, but when circumstances throw them together in a very intimate way, how can he be expected to remain a loyal friend to Darius?

Excerpt ~

He entered a hallway lined with doors on either side. About halfway up a patch of light on the polished wood stretched from one of the doorways and then became slimmer and slimmer, disappearing as the door slid shut. He picked up his pace, but footsteps approached from a side hallway. Ducking into a doorway, he flattened himself against the cold metal, his heart racing. The footsteps echoed loudly on the flooring, but soon became more distant. Daring to stick his head out, he got a glimpse of the back of someone turning onto another corridor. He estimated the spot where he thought the light shone on the floor, then strode to the door, took a deep breath, and punched the keypad.

He was horrorstruck when the door opened. Maggie knelt at the foot of a brass bed facing it with her arms spread wide, electro-cuffed to the bedposts. The ape called Mic brought a whip crashing down on her back. Orion jumped at the sharp crack, wincing. He rushed forward and grabbed the slaver’s arm as he pulled it back for another blow. He ripped the whip from the meaty fist and threw it across the room where it knocked over a lamp. Mic whirled in a rage but was laid low by a single punch to his jaw. He staggered backward into the bed and slid slowly, almost comically, to the floor.


He hurried to her side, kneeling and laying his hands on her bare arms. “I’m so sorry.” He peered over her shoulder to see her exposed lower back and the welt already rising there.

“I’m okay.” She leaned to peer around the side of the bed at Mic’s prone figure. “Wow. I guess it is true. The bigger they are, the harder they do fall.” The corners of her lips turned up, but her eyes watered.

He smiled back, relieved she was safe. For the moment anyhow. He ran his hands along her arms to the electro-cuffs and deactivated them. They fell from her wrists, and she grabbed the bars of the bed to help her to her feet. She sucked in her breath through her teeth, then halted, appearing to gather herself for a few seconds. “I’ve got an idea about how I can get into the slave quarters.”



MJ Schiller

M.J. Schiller, lunch lady/romance-romantic suspense writer, is the mother of a twenty-year-old and three eighteen-year-olds. That’s right, triplets! So having recently taught four children to drive, she likes to escape by pretending to be a rock star at karaoke. However, a record label is out of the question.

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LadyKnight_Teasers2 (1)

by author Linda Carroll-Bradd