Monday, August 31, 2009


I work in a small office, there's only five of us. Three of us have been together for years and are pretty close. Melanie commented to me the other day that an old friend of hers in another office has asked if she might consider relocating to their office. When she confided in me my first selfish response was, "you can't leave me! You and Rita are my book ends."

Maybe that's a strange comment to make but it's the truth. I sit in between Mel and Rita so they are my book ends. They keep me sane. Not too long ago I told them that one of the reasons I look forward to going into work every day was because of them. We've been through a lot of changes through the years, stressful times where we've all at one time or another wanted to walk out. And there's always one of us who reins the other two in and makes us see reason, and we manage to get through it to face another day.

I realized my selfishness almost immediately and told Mel to do what she needed to do, that I would understand. But then I went on to remind her how much we, at our ages, hate change.

I was just reminding her!

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Beloved Deceiver

Life is hectic today - so many things going on. Hope you enjoy this blurb.

Beloved Deceiver

”I have something to ask you, will you marry me?” His first thought was. “You’ve got to be joking,” and he thought she was. Only Flora was serious. She was practically being forced by her father to marry a man she detested. Thus begins a daring deception…the only trouble is Flora is a woman in love and Marsden Collingwood can have his pick of women who are more beautiful than her!”

Excerpts and reviews available at

Books available from and

Monday, August 24, 2009

Are we crazy?

A co-worker asked me this morning, "Have you noticed the older you get the more you talk to yourself?"

"Are you kidding?" I laughed with her. "I have a whole conversation with my grocery list when I'm shopping!" We both laughed and started to compare situations and I ended the conversation by saying, "people leave you alone when they see you talking to yourself, they must think we're crazy."

I told her I was glad I wasn't the only one who talked to myself. But it got me to thinking. What must people think when they see me talking to no one? Are they jealous because they aren't brave enough to do it? Are they afraid someone will baker act them? Why do we talk to ourselves? And don't deny know you do it, too.

Then we went on to talk about gravity but that's a whole nother story...

Friday, August 21, 2009

Too beautiful not to post

Happy weekend!

Last Chance

My next novel, Last Chance, will be released shortly from Whiskey Creek Press. It's a historical romance set in the Old West. Lots of cowboys, strong women and...well, let's just say there's a lot going on!

The book's cover blurb:

Young widow Laura Perkins learned the hard way that life in the rugged frontier isn’t all sunshine and roses. She never planned to find herself alone in a land where gunshots and hangings are commonplace. But planned or not, that’s exactly what happens to her and, short of turning tail and fleeing, she’ll have to learn to live with her circumstances—one way or another.

When a handsome stranger saunters into Granite Creek, life takes a drastic turn. Laura and Chance are as different as night from day, but she still finds herself intrigued by the man.

And Chance? He’s as drawn to Laura as a moth to a flame. Too bad that moth has a trail of mystery—and murder—hot on its trail.

Happy Trails--er, Happy Friday!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Broken Bones

Well at last I had the plaster off. A bit scarey when the man came with the round saw like contraption, but made worth while when I got to see the very attractive
Spanish Doctor - oye!

Bones are funny things and being at the "Bone" clinic shows people in really terrible situations. Broken feet and legs but the very worst were two young motor cyclists. Both these lads had broken both their arms! My goodness, they would have to have someone do EVERYTHING for them and if they did not live with parents, or a spouse, they had better have a very good friend!! I mean think about it, let your imagination run riot.

I was lucky it was my left wrist, I could fend quite well for myself - but of course I could not wash dishes. My nails have never looked so good! The first thing John said he was giving up was washng the dishes. Typical man - six weeks of dish washing and the man is wacked! Oh yes, you lovely American people, you probably forgot the onerous task, having a dishwasher and all. Well my only dish washer was John and he has gone on strike!

But seriously, it is great to be able to drive the car. The wrist is painful but what is pain, it is mobile and that's all that matters. I am better off than the motor cyclists.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009


It doesn't take a lot to turn my week around. Today wasn't turning out well and then I found a box of chocolates in the freezer. They are shamrock shaped and have obviously been there since last March but that's okay. Chocolate is chocolate. As an added bonus I found some flavored coffee in there too. So I'm about to go make a cup to enjoy with my chocolate. Small comforts are sometimes what sustains us.

I have also been saved by a good book. Last December I sat in an emergency room reading the memoir, A Three-Dog Life, and the majesty of the writing pulled me through. I'm reading a special book now too -- called Loving Frank -- and it's about Frank Lloyd Wright and the woman who loves him and the scandal they both survive. So I've got chocolate, coffee, a good book and feel blessed. Wishing you all blessings too.

Monday, August 17, 2009

What Brings Us Together

I wanted to share something a friend sent to me.

A father wanted to read a magazine but was being bothered by his little girl, Shelby. She wanted to know what the United States looked like. Finally, he tore a sheet out of his new magazine on which was printed the map of the country. Tearing it into small pieces, he gave it to Shelby and said, 'Go into the other room and see if you can put this together. This will show you our whole country today.'

After a few minutes, Shelby returned and handed him the map, correctly fitted and taped together. The father was surprised and asked how she had finished so quickly. 'Oh,' she said, 'on the other side of the paper is a picture of Jesus. When I got all of Jesus back where He belonged, then our country just came together..'

Have a great week larkers!

Friday, August 14, 2009

A Treat!

I thought I'd share one of our favorite summer recipes today. I hope you enjoy it!

Pineapple Sorbet

1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups water
2 cups crushed pineapple
2 cups coconut milk
1/4 cup lime juice

Combine ingredients in a blender. Pour mixture into ice cream maker and process following manufacturer's directions.

This is one recipe you may want to make over and over again!

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Fortune' Folly

Hopefully this will be my last posting of an extract for a few months - if I get the plaster off next Wednesday. I am also happy to announce that I've signed a Contract with Whiskey Creek Press or my new historical romantic suspense "Dangerous Enchantment" so watch this space for more news.

Now I am happy to post an extract from Fortunes Folly, the first novel I published with Whiskey Creek Press. Hope you enjoy.

Published by Whiskey Creek Press.

The chocolate-colored Mercedes made short work of the journey to London. Andreas had a chauffeur now; nevertheless, he chose to sit in the passenger seat in the front going through some papers.

Alone in the back, Helena looked out of the window and sometimes at the back of Andreas’ head. She saw the familiar, and yet at the same time, foreign, tiny curls of dark blond hair that grew down his neck; the exposed flesh was tanned and smooth and the collar of his white silk shirt fit snugly, disappearing under the rich material of his navy jacket.
He was the only man she had ever known intimately. The thought created a stirring in her lower stomach, causing her to move restlessly against the cream-colored upholstery.
“Don’t do this to me,” she silently implored her traitorous memory. It was warm in the car, it was teasing out the scent of the shaving lotion Andreas used, a familiar one that she remembered he liked. If only she could talk to him …. It would take her mind of these sensual memories, but she could think of nothing to say and so she moved along the seat, trying to stem the heated thrusts of her body. Only in her dreams had she had these erotic stirrings. Andreas had been a skillful and unforgettable lover. Looking at him now, she could remember vividly their sensual moments. It was horrible, she told herself and tried to drive the thoughts away but they would not go; they stayed a long time and she fidgeted through most of the journey, the only consolation being that at least he was not sitting next to her.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Summer Salad

For some great recipes head over to I like this one for a salad supper with shrimp, goat cheese and corn. It makes: 6 servings

1 pound large shrimp, cleaned and deveined
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 cups fresh corn kernels
1 pound grape tomatoes, halved
4 ounces orzo (small, rice-shaped pasta)
2 cups torn butter lettuce
2 ounces soft mild goat cheese, crumbled
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice, plus wedges for garnish
1. Rinse and pat shrimp dry. Heat 1-1/2 tablespoons oil in a large nonstick skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking; cook shrimp, stirring, until just cooked through, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a bowl. Wipe skillet clean and add remaining 1-1/2 tablespoons oil. Cook corn with tomatoes, stirring, until just tender, about 3 minutes. Add corn mixture to bowl, salt and pepper to taste and let cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally, 20 to 25 minutes.

2. Cook pasta in a 4-quart pot of boiling salted water until al dente, about 8 minutes. Drain pasta well in a fine sieve and add to bowl with remaining ingredients, tossing to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste and serve with lime wedges. Makes 6 servings.

Monday, August 10, 2009

It's That Time of Year Again

I bought hurricane supplies when I went to the grocery store today, even though we've been in the season for two months. LOL Okay, so it's only a big plastic container of drinking water. But I feel better having it in the house during hurricane season. I'll shop for the other crap when the weather man says there's a storm out there.

When the season ends we'll drink the water.

Oh...a little tip I picked up from the vet. Keep pillow cases by your door for your cats, just in case you have to leave fast. They won't get hurt inside pillow cases. However, make sure you only put one cat in each pillow case:)

Friday, August 7, 2009


Neither Piglet nor I know how August arrived so quickly. I mean, it was just June...wasn't it?

The summer's flying by! Piglet and I hope you're enjoying yourself. Us? We're taking the casual, relaxed approach to this last full month of summertime.

Happy Friday!

Thursday, August 6, 2009

His Other Wife

Another extract - still inconvenienced with my arm in plaster. His Other Wife published by Whiskey Creek Press, available in paperback and e-book. Ciao.

“I just don’t understand it,” Carla Hetherington said for about the fourth time. This time she glared at her eldest son who was lounging by the fireplace, his elbow resting on the marble mantle as if he had not a care in the world. But that was just like Saul.
“What’s to understand?” Saul murmured. “My brother left a small legacy to a woman,” he shrugged, “so what? And knowing Fabio, it shouldn’t be at all surprising.”
“How dare you.”
Saul raised an eyebrow at her. She looked flushed and agitated. Had he forgotten that Fabio – or fabulous Fabio as she always called him – had been her favourite child? He was the one, like his name, who seemed more Italian than English. Like his mother, he had been slim and dark and impossibly good looking.
“Sorry,” Saul conceded and he was. Now was not the time to speak the truth about Fabio, to remind mother that Fabio had been fond of women and la dolce vita! “But it isn’t as if he has left Roxie Rawson all his money, just a small legacy.”
“Roxie Rawson, even the name makes me shudder. She sounds like one of those tap dancers at a men’s club.”
“I think you mean lap dancer…”
“Well, you would know,” she snapped.
Saul did not respond. Maybe she was a lap dancer, knowing Fabio that would not be a surprise but his mother was right to be worried. It was upsetting for Louisa, his brother’s widow. She was confused. They had been married only eighteen months and suddenly Fabio was dead. Fabio had wrapped his car around a tree in Tuscany. Louisa had not even known her husband was in Tuscany. Nor had she had known that he had known a Roxie Rawson so well that he had bequeathed her ten thousand pounds. It was not a drop in the ocean either. Fabio was not wealthy, although comfortable would be more like it; he was really just starting to make his way in the world.
“What are you going to do about it?” Carla demanded.
He supposed he would have to do something. Louisa could not be expected to look for this Roxie Rawson. She was devastated. His mother would claim fragility, although he knew she was about as fragile as a piece of Tuscan marble.
“You have the contacts and know how to do it,” Carla insisted, managing to make it sound like an insult. “You find her…I suppose you’ll have to pay her?”
“Yes, the Will is valid. The lawyer suggests advertising but I think I’ll do it my way.”
“Do it quickly. I want it over with. And I need not tell you to keep this … this Roxie person out of our lives. You can insist on that.”
“I think this Roxie person is out of our lives period. I don’t think she is a recent manifestation,” Saul murmured.
Carla glared at her eldest son as if there were a further insult to Fabio’s memory in the statement. He was like his father. Tall, well built, his tobacco coloured hair often unruly in that English kind of way, his eyes so dark a blue as to be almost navy. He possessed the Roman nose of Carla’s side of the family but that was all. He looked English with that strong jaw and his fine chiselled lips, which were stained by a touch of cynicism. He had always been too tough for her. He excelled at rugby at school…was always captain of this and prefect of that. He had set the mould at school. Fabio had always been made to pay because he was not like Saul in anyway and it was she, and not Fabio who had resented that. Fabio went on in his own sweet way and never seemed to bother about anyone, or how they felt about him.
Carla had been glad when Saul had left home and joined the army. He had succeeded there too…going into the SAS. Now he had his own security consultation firm, offering personal security to the rich and famous. He was doing well. She hated his success, it was in a field of work that she thought was good for bruisers and mobsters and not a Hetherington.

Saul drove away before dinner. He was glad to be away from the house. It was a nice house, a small manor house built in the Stuart period. It was the only thing the family had managed to hold onto. The land had long gone. There was half an acre of garden, most of it beautifully kept in Italian style by a retired gardener. His mother managed to retain the services of a cook-housekeeper but there were no other staff. Bad investments had all but ruined his father and death duties had eroded the rest. Saul did not care; he had made his own way. He had ceased to have an attachment to the house when his Mother had told him that it would go to Fabio. There would be a small legacy for him but the house was to be for her best loved child. Saul had known that the moment Fabio got his hands on it, the house would be sold. It was no good moaning about it. It was the way of things. He was a realist and had long since learned to accept that his mother would never have deep maternal feelings for him. He was too confident in his own abilities to let it weaken him in anyway.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Wednesday Hello

I'm helping to cater a charity luncheon for thirty ladies today so don't really have a blog, but I do have a feature interview over at the Romance Studio and hope you can check it out.

Next week will share some of my summer recipes.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Cupid's Arrow

Okay, I haven't posted an excerpt in a while so I'm going to take a page from Margaret's book and shamelessly plug my first book with Whiskey Creek Press, which was also on their best sellers list for two months!


The bathroom wasn’t all that big and when Mike stepped further into the room it shrunk even smaller. “Sorry if I frightened you.” As he spoke his eyes moved around the room, searching for a good place for her to sit. There was only one place high enough. “Up.” He patted the vanity top.

“Up? I don’t think…” Before she could brace herself Mike’s hands went to her waist, hoisting her up without any trouble. She caught her breath when her legs came in contact with the cold marble surface.

“You were saying?” He took in her pretty blush, noticing she couldn’t meet his eyes.

"Do you always get your way?” There was a slight tremor in her voice, which didn’t go unnoticed by Mike. He couldn’t help wondering if she was as effected as he was by their close proximity. He began questioning his common sense. Her sitting on the vanity brought them almost at eye level.“When it matters,” he responded with amusement

He lowered his gaze, taking in the blood soaking her costume before opening the kit to see what it offered. Not much, but at least it had bandages and antibiotic ointment. He set it aside, reaching for Emma’s leg.

She stiffened immediately.“Ouch.”

His eyes shot up to hers. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I’m practicing,” she said with sass, the light in her eyes catching Mike’s interest and turning him warm inside.

For a second he wanted to do something crazy, like kiss that soft mouth. He wanted to know if it taste as sweet as it looked. He wondered if kissing her would erase the humor that always seemed present in her eyes, replacing it with something else. Something hot and needy. When he realized he was staring at her mouth he literally shook his head, swearing beneath his breath.

“Are you okay?” There was nothing at all innocent about her question. Not when she used that low, seductive tone and was looking at him like something she wanted to lap up.Was he okay? Hell, he hadn’t been okay since the first time he looked into her large, brown eyes. He managed to find enough strength to ignore her comment, bending to the task at hand. His hands reached for the fabric covering her thigh, gently parting it where it was torn.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and stop the shaking of his hands, he carefully inspected the wound. His fingers and knuckles grazed Emma’s soft skin and he clenched his teeth to ignore the rush of heat exploding through him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d touched anything so satiny.He gently probed the area, searching for any remaining glass. Emma caught her breath, stiffening, her hands falling upon his shoulders as though to push him away.

Mike slowly raised his eyes to hers, losing himself in the sensual pools. His hands faltered. The glare of the bathroom light emphasized the situation between them making it more intimate than it should be.“It’s not deep, you won’t need stitches. But if it heals up with glass inside it could become infected.”

“I know you’re not hurting me on purpose, Mike. Maybe I need a bullet to bite on or something.” The soft look in her eyes told him she trusted him. “Do what you need to do.”