26 March 2012

Tuesday Tales - Night 26th March

Another Tuesday Tales rolls round, and this week's prompt is 'Night.'  So I have dipped into my Regency WIP again, and come up with a bit on introspection on Julian's part, this time.

Once again, many thanks to all those who drop by each week. I also appreciate, and often act upon comments and suggestions left.  Thanks again.

The starlit night sky drew Julian’s attention.

Destiny? Did it exist?

Even as a child, Deborah caught his attention. Admittedly as one he’d looked on most of the time as a pesky kid who trailed after her elder brother and his friends. In retrospect, she appeared to spend more time away from her classes than attending them, and yet, the woman he was learning to know was bright, intelligent and kept her wits about her in a crisis.

Oh, he’d known about her mother’s death in childbirth, but at the time he’d failed to consider the impact it had on Deborah’s life within the household. Her need to abandon the schoolroom to take over her late mother’s duties simply hadn’t occurred to him. The stability and the support she’d given her siblings, when grieving herself, was probably never fully appreciated at the time by them or her late father. In retrospect, her life had not been an easy one, therefore to expect a meek and accepting bride would be a big mistake on his part. On the other, and a purely practical level he need never worry about the running of his home when put into his wife’s hands.

With her loyalties so obviously given to her existing tenants he wondered how they were going to achieve that.

21 March 2012

Please give Brenda Whiteside a warm welcome

Hi Brenda, thank you for visiting with us today. 

Author Bio:
Convinced she was born to be an artist, Brenda never took her love of writing seriously. And then one day, sometime after college, after marrying a man doing a stint in the army and the birth of her son, she found more satisfaction filling a blank page with words than an empty canvas with color. She left her paints behind. After publishing several short stories, she turned to writing novels. Regardless of the length of her story, the characters drive her forward, taking her on their journey of discovery and love.

Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. Recently, they moved to prairie country in Arizona and are enjoying the wide-open spaces while tending fruit trees and veggie gardens. They share their home with their dog, Rusty. When Brenda isn’t at her laptop writing, she enjoys hiking, motorcycle riding and the company of good friends.

Hi Sherry. Thanks for having me here today. I brought along Claire Flanagan and Benjamin Russell. They asked if they could conduct the interview of me and I agreed. So take it away, Claire and Ben.

Claire: What’s your favorite movie?

Brenda: I have a couple and it’s hard to choose.

Claire: Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Don’t you just love a good musical?

Brenda: One of my favorite movies is Dirty Dancing and although not exactly a musical, there is a great deal of music and dancing.

Claire: Dirty Dancing? I’ve never heard of it. That sounds so brazen!

Benjamin: A deep throated laugh.

Brenda: Oh, sorry, Claire. I can’t exactly explain it. How about I stick to my favorite movie that you might know? The Dolly Sisters with Betty Grable is a good one.

Claire: I just love Betty Grable.

Benjamin: Tell us how your writing career began. Did you always know you wanted to write or did it come to you after you’d tried something else, like when I decided that construction was the business I wanted?

Brenda: I’m not sure of the exact beginning, but I suppose I could call it a career when my first book was published in 2010. What a thrill. I knew writing was what I wanted to do the rest of my life.

Claire: Do you sing?

Benjamin: Claire, honey, movies and singing?

Claire: Oh, Ben, everyone is interested in Hollywood.

Brenda: I do sing, Claire, all the time but, no one wants to hear me sing like they want to hear you sing.

Benjamin: What’s your favorite time period to write?

Brenda: I had a lot of fun writing about the forties. I think it’s easier to write in my own time period but the forties are so romantic, so stylized.

Claire: So you really enjoyed telling our story?

Brenda: I did. I hope I got it all correct.

Claire: I got tears, how `bout you Benjamin?

Benjamin: No, honey, not tears, but I got a good laugh now and then.

Claire: Not at me, I hope.

Benjamin: Well, you did put Arnold in his place a time or two.

Claire: I didn’t see the humor.

Benjamin: A chuckle. Clears his throat. I understand the inspiration for our story actually came from your mother.

Brenda: Oh yes. She’s a bit like Claire. And as for you, well, very masculine like my dad.

Claire: Oh how sweet. I didn’t know my mother but according to my father, Hamish, she was like a beautiful Indian princess.

Benjamin: Very masculine, huh?

Claire: Bats her eyelashes at Benjamin, flicks her hair from her neck. You are, Benjamin.

Benjamin: Standing a little taller, biceps flexed. Who has most influenced your life?

Brenda: I can’t give you just one. Can I give you a few? Joan of Arc for refusing to deny who she was and what she fought for. I read about her when I was ten years old and I was touched.

My father for his entrepreneurial spirit. Just like you, Benjamin. Writers need that spirit. My son for his creative work ethic and hardheadedness about his beliefs.

Benjamin: So is there another forties book coming up?

Brenda: Right now I’m writing a contemporary romantic mystery. But I think I see another book set in the forties or even the thirties in my future.

Thank you, Claire and Benjamin, for taking time to interview me. I appreciate it.

Benjamin: You’re welcome.

Claire: Oh, Brenda, by the way – if someone should want to do a movie from our story, do you think I could play myself?

Brenda: I’ll certainly propose that to the studio, Claire.

When seventeen-year-old Claire Flanagan is wrenched from her father and deposited at the Good Shepherd’s Home for Wayward Girls, all dreams for Hollywood stardom are lost. But when twenty-year-old Benjamin Russell helps secure her release, she starts to believe in a happy future with him…until she discovers his ex-girlfriend is pregnant.

In this post WWII coming of age novel, Claire discovers the silver screen can’t compare with the fight she takes on for the leading role in her own life.

“I’ve never snuck into a theater before. Sneaking into a dark theater with Arnold …” Paulie laughed. “Are you sure this isn’t supposed to be a date?” Paulie appeared at once timid and suspicious.

“I’m sure. He’s getting me … us in to see a movie for free. Dick Hames! He’s so dreamy.”

“Arnold’s dreamy.”

“You know, Paulie, Arnold is a dear friend …”

“Oh, pooh, Claire.” Paulie batted at my skirt.

“Okay, okay, a special friend. We haven’t made any promises to each other or anything. He’s cute, he’s fun … but …”

“But what?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” A hint of guilt over the difference between how I felt about Arnold compared to how he felt about me passed like the breeze drifting over the porch boards. His were childish whims of infatuation, pushy, uninvited. “It’s kind of hard to explain…” I toyed with the folds of my skirt. If most of the girls at North High were stuck on Arnold, a great catch I didn’t appreciate, then I wished my best friend could change places with me. If only …

“Hey, ladies.” The blur of a male figure in jeans had ascended the porch steps, not pausing to pass pleasantries.

He opened the screen door and stepped into the house. Benjamin. My second encounter brought on an unexplained reaction; my heart pattered even though I’d barely caught a glimpse.

“Oh, hey, Ben,” Paulie said. “You look tired, big brother.”

Her words stopped him. “Little bit.” He paused behind the screen door.

“This is Claire.”

He tipped his head to me. “Nice to meet you, Claire.” He continued on into the house.

“Same here,” I muttered as the screen door shut.

“Now, where were we?” Paulie put a finger to her mouth.

I looped an arm through my friend’s. “We were going to see if your momma could use some help. Come on.” I pulled her from the seat. “Let’s help then freshen up before dinner.”

We let the screen door slam behind us and turned into the kitchen in time to see Benjamin lift his mother from the floor and spin around twice.

“You stop that, Benjamin Willis. Man or no, I can take a hand to your hide, if I need to.” Her hands flailed gently at his chest.

He laughed as he set her down, steadying her before letting go. Taut muscles on the back of his arms flexed with the effort; his deep laugh filled the kitchen. I couldn’t help being drawn into this entirely pleasant scene, comical and radiating warmth, inviting me to take part in their joy. His mother snatched a dishtowel from the counter and swiped at his legs.

“Hold off now. I give, I give.” He withdrew what appeared to be a check from his back pocket.

Mrs. Russell accepted the paper without comment and stuffed it into the frayed pocket of her red checked apron. He kissed her on the forehead, took the bottle of beer she offered him, and leaving the kitchen, nodded in my direction.

I sniffed the sweat of hard work and the yeasty smell of beer as he passed by. My head reeled for a moment with the warmth of the kitchen and the people within, combined with the essence of what I labeled man.  

Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.
Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9th and 24th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about prairie life on her personal blog http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

19 March 2012

This week's Tuesday Tales prompt is SKY.  Yes :-) another week's vanished into the past and it has been a particularly busy and highly satisfying week for me.  Sadly the downside is I've done very little writing, so I have found another snippet from my WIP, No Job For a Woman, to share with you.  I have skipped forward seven chapters from my last offering from NJFaW and to save her tenants from her neighbours' vengence, Deborah has agreed to a marriage that means she loses everything she holds dear.

Thanks to everyone who visits. -->

“Are all your locks so well oiled?”

“No of course not, why should they be?” A whimsical sigh escaped Deb’s lips. “I often sit outside and watch the stars in the sky. Sometimes I imagine Harry is looking down on me. What am I going to do about this place?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Freddie, it doesn’t suit you. We both know Julian will expect me to move to his home in Lincolnshire. After all, what man will forsake his own home for that of his wife’s first husband?”
“I can’t answer that, my dear. But rest assured, Julian is aware of the value you put on this place and the people on it. I am sure he will not expect you to become an absentee landlady.”
“But that’s just it, Freddie.” The tears in Deborah’s voice made themselves known. “I am no longer their landlady. Julian, by marriage takes on that position. And I am convinced that unlike Harold, he will not tolerate my participation in its management. Especially now we have discovered the plots against me.” A tear slipped its anchor and tracked down her cheek.

For many more fabulous Free reads.

12 March 2012

Tuesday Tales 13-03-12 Legs

Today's Prompt for this week's Tuesday Tales is LEGS. So I have chosen to offer a scene from the first of my Gasquet Princes series, From Now until Forever.

Thank you to everyone who visites and to those who leave comments, too. :-)

Unfurling his six-foot-five-inch frame, he scrambled to his feet. More dirt flew up around his shoes. He raced for the house, dove through the aperture and rolled beneath the solid pine table in the centre of the room.

Sunlight—bright, golden, offering false promises—cut a path across the floor to his sanctuary. “Shut the freaking door,” he snapped.

Stillness replaced the sound of gunfire. Even the birds, outraged by the disturbance of their tranquillity, fell silent.

Expectancy hung in the air.

What would their attackers do next?

The view from beneath the kitchen table changed the dimensions of the room. Chair legs, square and curving away from him, still managed to crowd his refuge.

The frayed hem of Mel’s jeans brushed her sun-kissed bare feet. Her sandals lay where she’d abandoned them beneath one of the chairs. A rogue ray of sunlight stroked the surface of the faceted coloured glass adorning her sandal-straps and shot rainbow beams of tinted light across the surfaces of the cupboards and nearby walls. Who would have thought the owner of those girly sandals could tote a gun as though it was second nature to her?

9 March 2012

Sweet Saturday Samples

If you blink these days the week's gone by before you know it!  And it's time for another Sweet Saturday Sample. :-)
This week I am again taken a snippet from my WIP No Job For a Woman.  I have gone back a ways to scene where deborah's life as she knows it is going to hades in a handcart, and she's none too pleased about it!!
This is the opening to chapter 13.
Thanks to everyone who comes by.  I enjoy your comments and they often give me pause for thought enough to make changes to a scene, so thank you.

‘I owe it to your brother.’ Why did Julian’s stark words add to her ever increasing sense of doom? If he’d known of her childhood feelings for him, at least he never made fun of her for it. And just because he stole her heart, it did not mean he saw her as anything more than Freddie’s pesky little sister, even now, especially now.

“I understand your reasons behind your arguments. They are powerful indeed, but you cannot ask it off me. It is disrespectful. I know many people do not recognize my place as the head of the estate, but my tenants accept me as dear Harold’s successor and they look to me for guidance. It is unquestionable that I would consider deserting them in their time of need. After all, indirectly I am responsible for their problems.”

Julian searched for a cloth and began drying the dishes she washed. “What do you mean ‘their problems’?”

“How can you ask when one of their children has been abducted?”

“Have you alerted the constable?”

Deborah slammed the plate down of the surface so hard it cracked. “I have. He said if we gave her time enough he was sure she’d come home on her own. It would turn out there’d been cross words between her and her parents, he said, and if she hadn’t come back by the end of the week to let him know.”

“I find his disinterest hard to understand.” Julian gathered up the broken plate and disposed of it in the waste bin near the kitchen door.

7 March 2012

Please welcome Amy Lignor today

As we sit here in our favorite library, my partner and I have to look at this lady and wonder why she chose us to write about? My name is Matt, I’m a warrior. Beside me, sits Emily. She’s a little quiet. I think she’s worried about what she’s about to hear…

Amy…why us? Why now?

Well, Matt. As you know, you’ve been stuck in my head for a long time. Remember? When I was 13, I started thinking about you - angels, I mean. You were my guide. You were the one I saw in my dreams when I was struggling. You told me about your training, and even showed me around some of the rooms - including this cool library. When my father passed away a few years ago you came again, and that’s when I realized that the world should know about you both, and how different you are from all the rest.

I know there are a lot of books about angels out there, so what makes us different?

Because you’re not ‘fallen.’ (Emily sighs) You may be tormented right now, Emily, but your story will show you how much you gained from coming out of a perfect world into our imperfect one. When you and Matt were up here you were training for a job. And you, the angel, had your work cut out for you when you were placed down below to make things right. You were both so new and fresh and wanted that taste of freedom that every teenager wants. So, it was a real adventure to be able to see you keep your faith in each other in a world that was attempting to rip you apart.

I like it down there but Emily’s getting a bit “hardened” to the whole idea of coming back. Are we?

Yes, Matt. You and Emily have much farther to go. You’ll have to play the roles of defender, guide, protector - even judge and jury when it comes to you, the warrior. There are a lot of journeys you and the people you met still have to take.

Speaking of that…(Matt sits up in his chair, as a bit of fire appears in his eyes.) I like some of the people we met - Faith and Charles were great! But, why did Jason have to be there?

Well…Emily has a bit of an issue, Matt. She loves you, of course. You’re her soul mate up here; you’re her partner and you were ‘made’ to be a team. But Emily has a soul mate down there, too. And she’s going to have a real tough job in front of her trying to figure out what she’s going to do about that.

Will she choose him…?

I can’t tell you that Matt. That’s up to Emily

(Emily jumps in, trying her best to stop her partner from continuing on this track.) People are talking about the cover a lot - even up here - why am I the one on it?

In this tale, you and Matt both had the scrapes, cuts, and damage from the humans you ran up against. The envy, anger, secrets, lies - everything came at you at once. But your heart, and not your power, was the thing you used in order to get through it. That’s why you’re on the cover, because your innocence was tested. You had to experience life, and in order to have the good, both of you figured out that you had to take the bad.

So you’re going to tell everyone what we’ve done?

I have to. Readers will want to feel the fire from the training pit; see the romance spark; and they’ll want to see the mistakes you make along the way. But they’ll also be routing for you, and will really want to find out how the adventure comes to an end.

You’ve written our next story, right?

Yes. You were kind enough to share your next trip, and I wanted to make sure readers saw what you did in your ‘gilded’ time on earth. It was extremely exciting.

And then?

We’ll have to wait and see. Until Next Time…

Until Next Time: The Angel Chronicles, Book 1 Summary
How does a girl choose between the one who steals her heart and the one who owns her soul?
Matt and Emily were created for a specific job. Raised and trained as the ultimate angel/warrior team, they are sent down to save, defend, judge and forgive, depending on the 'life' they've been assigned. What they don't realize is that the power of human emotions, such as love, anger, passion and fear can take over even the best of souls, causing them to make mistakes and follow paths that lead to confusion and heartache.
When the reason for their training is finally revealed, the angel/warrior team find themselves thrust into a world they know nothing about. Matt takes over the life of Daniel, a young man with a great deal of baggage. Emily becomes Liz, a girl living in a remote village who relies on nothing more than her own strength to survive. A violent storm erupts one night, and framed in the window of Liz's establishment is a frightening face. Let in by the soul of a Good Samaritan, the two visitors bring with them a past full of secrets that could literally change an angel's path and a warrior's plans.
From murder to redemption, this angel/warrior team must find a way to keep the faith they have in each other in a world that's ripping them apart.

Amy Lignor's Bio:

Amy Lignor began her career at Grey House Publishing in northwest Connecticut where she was the Editor-in-Chief of numerous educational and business directories.
Now she is a published author of several works of fiction. The Billy the Kid historical The Heart of a Legend; the thriller, Mind Made; and the adventure novel, Tallent & Lowery 13.
She is also the owner of The Write Companion, a company that offers help and support to writers through a full range of editorial services from proofreading and copyediting to ghostwriting and research. As the daughter of a research librarian, she is also an active book reviewer.
Currently, she lives with her daughter, mother and a rambunctious German Shepherd named Reuben, in the beautiful state of New Mexico.

ISBN: 9780983741855
ISBN: 9781465992697
Pages: 295
Release: February 1, 2012

Kindle buy link:
Nook buy link
iBookstore buy link coming soon
Smashwords buy link
PDF buy link https://www.payloadz.com/go/sip?id=1554857

Leave a comment for a chance to win a giveaway of one ebook in the format of the winner's choice.

Thee Angel Chronicles web site: http://www.the-angel-chronicles.com/
The Angel Chronicles Facebook page:
Until Next Time GoodReads page:
Amy Lignor's Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alignor
Amy Lignor's Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/HelloWritersAmy
Amy Lignor's Website: http://www.thewritecompanion.com/
Amy Lignor's Blog: http://hellowriters.wordpress.com/
Amy Lignor's GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5222068
Tribute Books website: http://www.tribute-books.com/
Tribute Books Facebook:
Tribute Books Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/TributeBooks
Tribute Books Blog Tours Facebook:

The book's official site is: http://www.the-angel-chronicles.com/

6 March 2012

Tuesday Tales - 6th March - Life

Another week spins round and here we are again ready for a fresh Tuesday Tales offering.  This week's promp is 'Life' and since I am offering short snippets from my experimental Regency romance, No Job For A Woman, elsewhere I thought I would continue from my two posts on Saturday & Sunday
My thanks to everyone who stops by, I appreciate your support.

Anger and frustration ripped up from nowhere, she wanted to lash out, to hurt someone in return for the injuries sustained by her husband. “Now if you are staying here, make yourself useful and sit with Julian, while Nurse and I get some air. We have seen no more than our beds and the sick room for seven days now, and it is hard on Nurse, she is no longer as young as she used to be. I want to ensure she takes a break.”

The doctor had shared their vigil for several hours on the first two nights before apologising for the need to return home to get some sleep. “For I have several patients to visit on the other side of the village tomorrow morning,” he’d explained.

Soon after the doctor’s departure she’d persuaded Nurse to rest on the truckle bed she’d set up for herself, in the room.

She did not attempt to explain how they’d both sat through those first nights with Julian until his fever broke. Nor of the struggle she had to administer his medicine. As the fever rose so the task became harder until it took both women and the doctor to hold him, while one handed, Deb trickled the medicine between his parched and split lips.

So the burden had lain on her shoulders to nurse him through the ravages until his fever broke. Not to anyone had she spoken of her fear that in return for his support he might lose his life.

And for what?

If Julian died, Ned Grainger would take up where he’d left off. No one had given any thought or time, since the tragedy, to search for whatever the Graingers’ were looking for.

Julian’s life was worth more than that.

Freddie may harbour guilt, but none more so than her own. After all she had agreed to their suggestion that she marry Julian before Ned Grainger’s deadline.

Click on the picture below so you don't miss the opportunity to read more free stories from several gifted authors.

5 March 2012

Egg-cerpt guest Zrinka Jelic

Thank you, for having me here today as your guest. My debut novel “Bonded by Crimson” has been released on January 28th, and it is available in all formats at Black Opal Books, Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble and All Romance eBooks

4 March 2012

Six Sentence Sunday

Today's Six Setences this Sunday  follows on from yesterday's sample and is from my 'experimental' Regency romance No job For a Woman.
Thanks to everyone who visits and to those who stop long enough to leave comments.  You're all appreciated :-)

“I blame myself.” Freddie looked from his sister's worried face to his friend’s inert body on the bed.

As soon as her envoy reached him, Freddie sent several of his men over to help patrol her lands. Not that they could do much if Ned and his brother followed through on their threat of more attacks.

The news of Deborah's marriage to Julian had spread abroad, and Ned could no longer coerce her to wed him but she wished she knew whether it may, or may not incite them to further violence.

Upon his arrival, an hour after the fired was doused, the constable and his fellow officer followed Deborah into the drawing room and closed the door behind them.

3 March 2012

Sweet Saturday Samples - I missed it!

Where does the time go to, these days?  Or am I getting more 'dittzy' by the day?  Now there's a frightening thought!

So why have I once again missed the wonderful Sweet Saturday Samples well, I'm not sure.  I've been no busier than usual, yeah I'm trying to work on three stories at once and find my characters gaily cruising through each other's stories, which is fine, except one of them is a Regency and the others are not!  What joy :-0

But that's no reason not to offer you something else instead, is it?  I keep talking about my wip Regency story, No Job For a Woman, so why don't I offer you a little snippet from that today?

Julian, (my hero) is rescuing two women from a burning building when tragedy strikes...

A sound, reminiscent of canon fire, did not give him time to escape the building as burning timbers rained down, pinning his legs just inside the doorframe.

Careful hands cradled him while others fought frantically to free his him. He didn’t hear the woman’s sobbing thanks.

Only Deborah’s voice filtered through his agony, kept him striving to hold on. Rough hands swept him off the ground and carried towards his wife’s home. The soft touch of her hand, wrapped round his, faded into the engulfing blackness.

1 March 2012

Egg-cerpt with Kathy Reinhart

Meg Embry has finally faced up to the fact that the shine has worn off her engagement ring, her family members are the equivalent of comfortable strangers and her dreams are running faster than she is. Change is imminent, but where does she begin?

With the support of her two closest friends, one who’ll make her laugh and one who’ll let her cry, Meg faces life head on and learns that sometimes, love, family and betrayal are bound together by lily white lies.

I bit down on my lip as the door handle slowly turned. The door opened and a big-bosomed woman in a simple gray dress squealed with delight. “Connor, my boy. Come here and give me a hug. Why do you wait so long between visits?”

Con wrapped his arms around the woman’s waist, giving her what she requested. Turning to me, he said, “Meg, this is Ivory…” the affection in his eyes was apparent as he continued, “She’s been like a second mother to me and the only person—other than my grandmother—who could put up with Joker for any length of time.”

Ivory let out a belly laugh. “The ornery one. Yes, well, he’s an acquired taste.” She extended her hand. “Ivory Steck, I’m the housekeeper here, and you are?”

Taking her hand, I replied, “Meg. Meg Embry.”

“Embry?” Turning her attention to Con, she asked, “Is your grandfather expecting you… better yet, is your grandfather expecting her?”

Offering a mischievous smile, Con answered, “I thought we’d surprise him.”

Ivory shook her head and motioned us in. “Oh, you will. The man’s over seventy-years-old, you may just be dishing up his last surprise.”

I found her remark disturbing and turned to Con for reassurance. He smiled and shook his head at Ivory.

“Mom used to say there wasn’t enough arsenic in the world to kill him off so I wouldn’t worry about this fazing him.”

Ivory let out another full belly laugh causing her large chest to vibrate, and then led us from the foyer, down a long hall.

The house was enormous with pressed tin ceilings that had to be at least twelve feet high, an open staircase that was a solid sex feet wide and plank flooring covered with enough lacquer to reflect the light that streamed through the floor to ceiling windows. Carved in intricate detail, the woodwork was commonplace in a house built over a century ago. Antique furniture filled every corner of every room and framed artwork hung on the walls.

The hallway ended at a set of French doors, the glass panes covered by white lace curtains. Ivory stopped I n front of the doors, turned toward us, and said, “Good luck,” as she knocked twice.

I heard, “What is it?” barked out from behind the door.

Ivory appeared unaffected by his rudeness. “Your grandson is here to visit. Shall I send him in?”

“Grandson? It’s been so damn long since I’ve seen the boy; I almost forgot I had one. Yeah, get him on in here.”

Ivory opened the door, offering a sympathetic smile.

Con patted her arm and whispered, “Don’t worry Ivory. I’ll get her out before he hurts her.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. What had I gotten myself in to? I looked up in time to catch Con wink at Ivory and let out the breath I’d been holding.

About the author:
Kathy Reinhart, restauranteur turned author of 3 novels, including the award-winning ‘Lily White Lies’ lives in southern Pennsylvania where aside from writing, she enjoys interacting with other authors on her blog ‘Ink Drop Interviews’, cooking, horses, travel, but most of all, spending time with her granddaughters, Joonie & the Little One.

Lily White Lies – Paperback or Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Lily-White-Lies-ebook/dp/B005C478SG/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1328721969&sr=8-1Ink

Drop Interviews: www.inkdropinterviews.com

Website: www.kathyreinhart.com