Cupid's Arrow

I've been so busy lately, sorry that I didn't post last week. Between moving, construction work at my house, relocating three terrified cats and a busy month at work...well, need I say more? I'm glad to put August behind me and hope September will be a calmer month.


So, on that note, I'm going to take a page out of Margaret's book and post an excerpt of my first contemporary romance. Cupid's Arrow was on the Whiskey Creek Press best sellers list for two consecutive months and is a sweet romance.

I can still remember how excited I was when I received the book cover. Mike and Emma had come to life, and the artist did a great job of depicting a scene right out of the book. There are some things you never forget and that is one for me. Enjoy the excerpt.


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."

What he needed to do and what he wanted to do was the same thing. If Emma only knew what she was inviting, he thought to himself. He was standing between her glorious thighs, touching her, his gaze dropped to her breasts noticing the peaks were crowned. They rose and fell softly with her every breath, teasing him, almost begging him for attention. If he made it out of there without making a complete fool of himself it would be a miracle.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts Emma suddenly removed her hands from his shoulders. Lord, he thought, just let him finish up and get the hell out of there while he could still walk.

The Days of Wine and Roses

As I shortly shift into a new decade age-wise, I was thinking about "The Days of Wine and Roses," not the excellent film but the poem by Ernest Dowson. Convincing myself I think, that these are my days of wine and roses.When I moved into the dreaded 60 decade, I took myself off to Australia and New Zealand. I did things I had never done before - traveling extensively on my own and staying at Youth Hostels part of the time. The latter, although frightening at first, was wonderful. I met many people older than even me, and made friendship with people of all nationalities, which was interesting and rewarding.

For some time I wondered what I should do this time and because of my circumstances now, being recently and sadly widowed, I can't get up the impetus to think where I should go and what I should do.

The beautiful picture shows Loch Awe in bonnie Scotland, and for those that have never been to Scotland, let me tell you it truly is bonnie, beautiful in fact, as you can see. This is where I am going next week. John and I were there same time last year, and it was lovely. We had booked a return trip and I've decided to go on my own. It was such a happy time that I know I won't be sad. I will remember the many laughs we shared on this particular holiday.

A week later I am off to West Wales - again a beautiful place - to stay with my cousin and his wife. John and I went there on a camping trip and we both really loved Wales.

Neither of these trips are as exciting at the one I took for my 60th, but never mind...these are my days of wine and roses and they aren't over yet...perhaps another adventure is waiting in the wings and if not...there is always Paris!

Cheers.

Excerpt - Beloved Deceiver

I am not lazy, truly I am not, but my mojo is still not working, so please bear with me as I post another excerpt from one of my contemporary romances. I enjoyed writing this book, I was able to have scenes in the Yorkshire Dales, a favourite area of mine.
Hope you enjoy.



Beloved Deceiver, published by www.whiskeyycreekpress.com

“I have something to ask you and I’m being perfectly serious,” Flora said, then, after taking a deep breath, plunged on, the words colliding. “I would like you to marry me!”
Marsden Collingwood had guessed at a variety of requests, but not this one. This one momentarily knocked the breath from his body. It was a good job he was sitting or he thought he might have fallen backwards. It was just as if she had struck him in the solar plexus. It was incredible!
He looked up the length of the girl standing before him and practically burst out laughing. The gall of it, the sheer damned cheek! She was a chit of a thing, a girl who barely reached his chest; her russet-coloured hair was a riot of tipsy curls and had not pretence of style about it. She was wearing scruffy jeans and a baggy t-shirt that bore the name of some American university, and she asked him to marry her!
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said brightly, smiling up at him.
“That you’re insane?” he murmured, in a more mellow tone than he believed she deserved. “Well, that has been said to me before, but I thought you might have been polite and said that the idea is insane. I am quite sane, as you’ll discover if you listen to me.” His intense scrutiny caused her to blush, but she made herself hold his gaze.
Of course he was surprised. He had to be really. He was considered quite a catch. Tall, well built…thick tobacco-coloured hair that curled at his neck and, in spite of his attempt to tame it, fell across his brow. His eyes were almost the same colour of gold with green speckles on the iris, unusual eyes that at that moment were sparkling with amusement. At least he wasn’t angry.
“I don’t mean a marriage proper,” she went on. “I mean a pretend marriage.”
“I see,” he said, mockingly. “I just let people think I’ve lost my mind and married you.”
“You could do worse!” she said, not offended. She could understand his feelings. After all she was no catch, and she knew that. He went out with really stunning women. She had seen his photo in the society magazines many times, squiring some goddess or other.
“We’d have to do it properly to have it legal, but it would be a marriage on paper and not one that’s in the…in the…”
“In the bedroom? How disappointing, and here I was thinking you were after my body.” His voice dripped sarcasm.
“I don’t want your body. I just want to be married...to someone.”
“Flora, I’m sure there are plenty of young men who’d be delighted to marry you.”
“But I want you…you wouldn’t be intimidated by my father…and that is why it’s so perfect for you, Mars. You’d be able to get one over on him…and you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Her smile was crafty.
“I must confess the idea of, as you so sweetly put it, getting one over on your father would be a real pleasure, but I’m not so desperate I’d marry his daughter!”
She sighed loudly, then sank into the folds of the sofa opposite the white armchair where he lounged.
Her legs stretched out; her grubby trainers attracted his eye. She had very small feet, but the trainers made them seem enormous. She was an urchin and a rather scruffy one at that. Her most redeeming feature was her lapis lazuli-coloured eyes; they were large, round and full of a charming innocence. However, any appeal they may have for him was soon obliterated by her snub nose that was smattered with freckles, her slightly protruding teeth, and her shapeless body.
“I look better when I try,” she said, as if reading his mind.
“I’m sure you do,” he said, “but now, Flora, if you’ll excuse me, I’m rather busy.” He checked his watch meaningfully. It was a ruse, of course, because he had nothing to do but laze around the villa until evening.
“Aren’t you curious why I am asking you?” she persisted.
“Not really. I think perhaps the sun has caused something to happen to your brain. When you get back to England, it’ll sort itself out. You’ll see how ridiculous you’ve been.”
“Ouch!” she said. “You don’t have to be cruel as well!”
“My dear…”
“Ooh, don’t do that either!”
“Do what?”
“Patronise me. I am not your dear, and have no intention of ever being your dear. I am talking business, Mars.”
“Ah, now that is interesting…business is a much better thing to discuss than marriage.”
She pulled herself up, shoving her small hands into the pockets of her jeans. He wondered why she had chosen him. Was it because of how they had met? Did she imagine him as her knight in shining armour?

Renovations are underway!

We're having the double car garage made into a room. Ever done any remodeling? My vision of turning it into a room was cut and dried. All we had to do was cut out a square in the wall and add a window. Then put up two walls, one with an interior door. Finally paint and add carpet. Short and easy and, ah, how much can that cost? Not much. Yeah...right!

The labor is far cheaper than the materials. I discovered that today when I added up the three receipts from Lowes. I never gave a thought to insulation, screws, nails, mud, and the materials it takes to build the frame before you hang the drywall. Then there's the electrical stuff like boxes, wiring and breakers. And a lot of other stuff that means absolutely nothing to me.

We spent half the day just gathering up supplies, it was exhausting. I kept thinking about the syfy I was missing. I know I'm spoiled when it comes to my Saturday ritual but it's the only day of the week I try to keep for myself. The day before my work week begins again. But I have to admit I'm glad the work has begun and by the end of the month I'll have a beautiful addition to the house.

Happy Monday everyone!

Technically Challenged

It's the last week to enter the Eppie Contest for e-books. It shouldn't be that hard to enter a contest? It took me hours and I'm still not sure I did it right.

Also there is Facebook where I don't know how to send a message. So I'm going to curl up with a good old fashioned book and try to forget how technically challenged I am.

A Little Romance

I thought we would do something different today - I am going back to the very first romantic novel I hd published with Whiskey Creek Press. Fortune's Folly is set in England and the romantic island of Cyprus. It tells the story of a couple who divorced but when Andreas comes back into her life, Helena finds he is just as irresistable as he ever was! Hope you enjoy.

FORTUNE’S FOLLY BY Margaret Blake
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.

Comfort over Fashion

I met the sweetest couple in Walmart the other day, where I was doing my weekly grocery shopping. We were standing at the deli. They were getting their order, and I was waiting for my turn. The man was doing the ordering. His wife was just standing there, waiting patiently, looking around. We made eye contact a half a dozen times and just smiled at each other. After a while she came over and paid me a wonderful compliment!

She said every time she looked at me she couldn't help notice how pretty my skin was. I thanked her and said I would be fifty-five this year. She informed me she was eighty-nine. And then went on to say she wished her skin looked as nice, and mentioned she wasn't wearing any makeup. For an 89 year old woman she looked great, and I told her so. She mentioned she'd recently had cancer surgery on her face, and seemed to be very self conscious over it. I looked closer at her, and finally noticed the three little bandages on her cheek.

I hadn't even noticed them before, they were so close to the color of her skin. She seemed so relieved when I told her that. It was then I noticed how well dressed she was, her tasteful jewelry, and perfect hair. Her husband appeared just as well groomed. It was clear they'd had a good, prosperous life together.

Before she left she told me her husband was ninety-six, and that he still drove. I was amazed at how young they appeared, how they moved without canes or walkers. How they took care of their appearance. Not that the elderly turn into slobs, or anything. But some do tend to fall into the comfortable routine of wearing moo moos, shorts and socks. You know it's true. Nothing wrong with that either. I'll be one of them because comfort, over fashion, is everything to me:)