The day is done…more or less.
I hope you guys had a peaceful weekend. I've heard from some
of you that you spent the time with family, and others worked, while one or two
of you just hung out alone.
At least one person said she and her family served at a
homeless shelter for awhile this weekend. Kudos to you. It's not easy, I know. It's
a valuable experience from both points of view--that of the server and of the
served.
As I told you before, I stayed home and worked with the hop,
spent time with my family, and wrote on the book coming out tonight or
tomorrow. I hate to let them go, you know? There's always a little more that I
can do to improve the story, or so I think at the time.
I wanted to share a picture of my daughter's visiting Nanday
Conure and my new Green Cheeked Conure. Banana is the big green guy, the Nanday. He
has a Snape-like personality. If his feathers were a cloak, they would be
billowing as he moved. He's very snarky sometimes, but full of personality. The
little guy is my bird, Baker Tin-whistle. I named him Baker after Sherlock Holmes's
address, and Tin-whistle because that's what he sounds like. I call him Baker,
of course.
Now I'm going to give you a couple of excerpts--after all,
there's got to be some instant gratification, right?
Within the next few days , I will announce the winner of my
Gertrude Hawk chocolate prize. I'll email the winner if I can but I'll certainly
post it on my blog. I'll either let you know who won what else from the Blog
Hop, either by choosing the winner, or telling you who the Blog Hop gurus
picked.
Look around
HERE to get an idea of the earrings you have to choose from.
So, with no further adieu, here are a handful of excerpts--all
from books released in the last three months.
$.99
by
J.J.
Massa
Eian MacGregor existed in a never-ending limbo, caught in an envelope in time.
Eternity stretched ahead of him, a hopeless and lonely place. Or was it? Shaken
from his lethargy by two intricately drawn pictures of himself, Eian was
equally moved by the young woman who’d painted them. He looked at her and saw
breathtaking beauty.
What did she see when she looked at him?
Excerpt:
Finally, Eian could take no more. This woman drew him as no other had, even
when he’d been alive. He wanted to see
her privately but Ida and Malcolm were all over her. He made his way to the chamber above hers and
waited for her to come to her room.
.
It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of running
water. He waited in her chamber, holding
his breath as she emerged from her bath wearing a satiny green robe, cinched at
the waist.
.
He watched as she pulled a bench up to his portrait that
hung above the small fireplace in her room.
Standing on it, she reached out and touched the likeness of his face.
.
“Have you missed me, Eian?” she asked. His breath caught. “I wish you could be in my bed tonight
instead of hanging on my wall.”
.
“I can think of no better place to be, mo rìghinn” he
responded. My lady. “Your wish is my command.”
With a gasp, she spun around on the padded bench and it
began to wobble precariously. Eian
surged forward to catch her knowing that he couldn’t. He knew that she would fall through him to
the floor.
.
He couldn’t say which of them was more shocked when he
snatched her in mid-fall and clasped her against his chest.
.
Her eyes were huge as she looked up at him. She trembled in his arms.
.
“Eian MacGregor,” she whispered. He continued to look down at her.
.
“None other.”
.
“It can’t be… You are my dream man.”
.
“And you, Bòidheach rìghinn, are the woman of
my dreams.” Beautiful lady.
.
If he could hold her and touch her, he could kiss her. Eian needed to kiss her. He hadn’t had human contact in almost three
centuries. He wasn’t letting go of this
woman now.
.
Yes, over the years, some had seen him. Some had heard him. But this woman was real and solid. He felt her.
He needed her. It was obvious to
him that she needed him, too.
.
Swinging her into his arms, he strode to the bed with her
and placed her upon it. He released the
clasp at his shoulder of his kilt and then the belts he wore. Her eyes never left him when he removed his
brogues and socks and pulled his shirt over his head.
.
Turning back to her, he was naked, his manhood jutting
proudly from the nest of black curls between his legs. He hadn’t removed his clothes in two and a
half centuries, nor had he felt the stir of desire in all that time.
~~~
For the last decade, Von Branigan has lived his solitary
life estranged from the only woman he had ever loved. He’d been wronged and for
ten long years he isolated himself from the world, keeping his hurt and
loneliness wrapped around him like a cloak.
Tati is tired now. She’s done. If not for Von, she would have thrown in the
towel and let the bad guy win. He was her best friend once. Have the years
without her taught him bitterness or has he finally grown into the man she
thought she’d married? Is there a safe haven out there for her hunted, wounded
heart?
*
Excerpt:
.
“Can
you identify the person in that photograph, Mr. Branigan?”
.
Von
nodded, swallowing. “Her name is Tatiana Branigan,” he managed, his throat dry.
.
Detective
Lester stood. “Wait here, please, Mr. Branigan.”
.
“Is
she...” Von began.
.
“Please
wait here, sir,” Detective Lester said, standing abruptly. Before Von could get
a word out, the other man had left the room. Von’s head was spinning. Had he
just identified the body of his wife? Was she dead or alive? His tangled
thoughts ebbed and eddied, twisting in his mind like burrowing, insidious
worms.
`
I don’t know if I can live in a world that she isn’t living in. There
must be something wrong with me. How can I still care so much after what she
did to me? To us? But…what if she’s
dead? Oh, god, what if she’s dead and gone?
`
As
he sat trying to absorb what had happened so far this night, Von began to
notice the quiet of the building. After a moment heard footsteps approaching
and began to focus on the voices he could hear nearby. It seemed the good
detective had failed to close the door properly, allowing him to listen in to
the conversation growing louder as heavy footsteps approached.
.
“Go
easy, Jim, it’s been a heck of a night.”
.
Von
heard a door open across the hall and turned slightly, focusing on the voice.
.
“Bill,
it’s bleeding again. I’m gonna check her eyes.” The new man had to be
addressing the detective that Von had met. Sure, Yonkers was big, but how many
men named Bill could be lingering at the police department in the middle of the
night?
.
“Stop
it, Jim. You’re making my headache worse!” Von sat up straight. A voice that
sounded seductive even when she was irate. That couldn’t be...
.
“Tatiana,
you need to be in the hospital. I know
you have a concussion. You’re not really recovered from the pneumonia.” The
voice designated as Jim sounded very agitated.
.
He
called that woman Tatiana! It has to be her! My angel is alive!
.
“You
know I’ll refuse further treatment. What are they going to do for me, Jim?”
came her soft-voiced reply. “They can’t put my head in a sling.”
.
“Tati,
I’m going to call that number you gave me. You need someone to take care of you
now.” That was definitely Bill, the big detective.
.
“Bill,
I told you to call it if I died, and only
then. Nobody at that number wants to care for anything besides my remains. Don’t
make me sorry I trusted you.”
.
Is
that what she thinks? And why wouldn’t she think that? I made it pretty clear
she wouldn’t be welcomed back, didn’t I?
.
Her
melodious voice drew him closer until, before he realized he’d even moved, Von
found himself standing in the hall. The irritated voice of Bill Lester reminded
him that the conversation was still going on and he moved a step closer to the
voices.
.
“It’s
only a happy accident you’re not sporting a toe-tag right now, dang it!” the
detective snapped. His words were angry, yet his tone made it clear that he was
worried and even afraid for Tatiana. Von wanted to rush into the room, but
something made him hesitate.
.
Tatiana
was less than ten feet away. .A step to the left and he’d be looking at her. He
waited for the pain of her betrayal to wash over him but could only feel
elation. He needed to get himself together. She’s alive!
~~~
By J.J. Massa
A girl can't choose who her parents are, but Tabitha Baker isn't
complaining. Her mother died when she was young, leaving her with a psychic
gift and precious memories. Her father loves her, though. He's a good man—the
entire country agrees. They just don't know their president is her father. Her
lineage is a state secret. Everyone has secrets, but sometimes it's a real
problem.
.
Garth Cavanaugh is a Secret Service agent assigned to the
President of the United States. He doesn't tell most people that, only his
family. His twelve brothers and sisters all work in various fields of law
enforcement. He'd like to introduce them to the woman he's dating, but she
seems to be hiding something, maybe even someone. Whatever it is, it's big. He
wants his family to meet the woman he loves—not watch him nurse a broken heart.
That he can do by himself…
Excerpt:
Garth saw the man grab her purse and backhand her when he
was still a few feet away. She was a crumpled heap on the pavement, but he recovered
her property. Unfortunately, her cell phone was a total loss. That had gone
flying when the dirt-bag had tugged on her purse.
.
The police arrived almost right away. Since it was an
upscale Maryland suburb, Garth wasn’t surprised. He let the officers take
credit for the collar but stayed with the young lady while the paramedics
checked her over.
.
A petite five feet, two inches in her white sports shoes,
she was pretty as hell. Her long, dark brown hair was slightly wavy. It framed
a lovely oval face with beautifully arched brows and delicate cheekbones. Almond
shaped eyes the color of copper pennies had captured his attention right away.
Garth knew he could stare at this woman for hours and be completely happy.
.
At some point during the proceedings, a reporter appeared on
the scene asking her if she worked at the White House. She admitted that she
had a minor position in the research department. Before she even knew what was
happening, a photographer snapped a picture of her attempting to block her face
with small hands that were completely inadequate to the task.
.
The little lady seemed very upset about the entire incident.
Garth thought she was showing signs of shock. When her teeth began to chatter
he gave her his denim jacket. It was so large on her that she was lost in it.
.
“Can they do that?” she asked Garth. “Can they just take
your picture and put it in the paper?”
.
Poor thing.
.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he told her, “It’s the Freedom of
Information Act. You are a White House employee.”
.
“Can I borrow your cell phone?” she asked him, brow
furrowed.
.
He winked at her. “Anything for a damsel in distress.” He
wanted to get to know her better. This could be the edge he’d been looking for.
“Need to call your husband? Boyfriend?” he asked her, artlessly.
.
Her mouth curved into a little smile. He already loved that beautiful
dimple.
.
“Daddy,” she said.
.
He handed her the phone, smiling back at her. He saw her
start when her hand wrapped around the phone.
.
She smiled weakly and turned away
from him as she began to push buttons. He listened shamelessly.
.
When someone answered, she said, “Kill Devil Hills, mile
marker seven, twelve-twenty-seven A.M.” She waited for a minute.
.
His brow was furrowed now. That was an odd way to say hello.
He turned a little away so she wouldn’t notice him listening.
.
“Hi, it’s Tabby. Could I speak to him please?” she said.
“It’s important.” Her voice wobbled. She waited again.
.
After a minute, she said, “Daddy?” he saw her fighting to
keep her chin from crumpling. She was obviously distressed.
.
“Someone tried to steal my…” her eyes were misty and
apparently, “Daddy” didn’t make it past the word “steal” before he had
something to say.
.
“I’m okay, Daddy, really. It's just they took my picture for
the paper and I have a bruise and…” evidently Daddy didn’t like some part of
that sentence. Garth bet the word “bruise” had gotten his attention this time.
.
“Daddy, you can’t do that! I’m just a researcher; you can’t
assign me a detail.” She took a deep breath and listened.
.
Both she and Daddy certainly had his attention now. There
weren’t that many people in Washington who could assign anyone a “detail.”
He knew that because he was a “detail."
.
Garth Cavanaugh was a Secret Service operative assigned to
the Presidential Protection detail. This was his afternoon off.
~~~
Starting at: $2.49
by J.J. Massa
It's been too long since Langley has had his ashes hauled -
-so long that even his snarky old supervisor looks good to him.
.
Garret keeps a tight rein on his passions… his burning
desires. For two years, the fire for his assistant has smoldered. After two
years of Langley Johnson stumbling into work looking debauched and delectable,
that fire is blazing out of control.
.
What will it take to bank the fire? Or is it too late for
anything but ashes?
.
Excerpt:
.
Garret had seldom been so grateful to see the hands of the
clock reach five.
What a day. What a long and tedious day.
His assistant had been late again. The little bastard. Did
he have to be so damned sexy in the mornings?
Langley Johnson had a natural, just-rolled-out-of-bed look that ate at Garret.
It wasn't fair. Did any other manager in the company have this to deal with?
How did the young man find suits that clung to his tight little ass like that?
Did he have them measured? Most men aimed for something a little less…
revealing, perhaps.
That messy dark hair, those drowsy blue eyes, sleep-soft face… it was worse if
he came skidding in with his tie half-off like this morning. He had a
freshly-fucked look that fairly screamed to the ravenous, dangerous part of
himself that Garret kept locked away most of the time.
It wasn't hard to keep his… proclivities
contained, usually. He was from an old-fashioned family and worked for an
old-fashioned firm. It had taken him many years to get where he was today. He
wasn't at the top, exactly, though he was the manager of his section. He was
settled, comfortable. That is, until his assistant stumbled in appearing
debauched. Every time the man wandered in, late for work and looking used,
Garret had to fight to keep from making sure the job had been thoroughly done.
~~~
The Montgomery Family Chronicles - Book Four
How many Weres could manage to find their mate and lose her
all at the same time? Yancey Montgomery's mate has been right under his nose
for at least a decade. When he makes her his, he also chases her off. What will
it take to convince the delicate little werewolf that he is a worthy mate?
.
Never had Sue been so glad to be back in America, and now
she was moving into Old Moon, the town where her best friend lived. What could
be better than that--there was no drama at Tracey's place…or so she thought.
.
Excerpt:
.
…And now, now, he stood amidst a crowd, badly made sign held
aloft, watching for a woman he was beginning to wish he’d never heard of, all
the worse because she had no idea that he, or werewolves in general, existed.
That was more than a little odd, given that she’d been friends with the Darke
family for a decade. On top of it all, he was supposed to live with
her? Okay, it had been couched as a request, but really—how was he going to
turn his Alpha down? Aside from everything else, the pack owned the house in
question.
Oh well, if there was one thing Peyton knew how to do, it
was follow orders. If the order was dangerous or stupid, he would…misinterpret
it a little. Sharing an expensive and roomy old house with a beautiful woman
who was allegedly a great cook—what could be dangerous about that?
The sound of a throat clearing pulled Peyton from his distracted
speculation. Taken by surprise, he jerked and spun, hands still in the air,
cardboard sign flapping loudly like a drunken paper flag.
Peyton could do little more than gape as the woman’s
breathtaking scent washed over him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, just
stood there, arms held high, the thin poster sign held at arm’s length above
his head.
“I’ll take that,” the goddess informed him, hand out
expectantly. Confused, all he could do was shake his head in the negative and
stare. He had no idea where his cognitive abilities had gone. “What? It has my
name on it, therefore, it’s mine,” she insisted, brow arched. “Hand it over.”
What could he say? It did have her name on it, after all.
At a loss, Peyton did as ordered, watching in bemusement as
she folded it until it was long and thin, then pressed it in half and marched
it to a nearby trashcan, stuffing the abused cardboard inside. Returning to his
side, she dusted her hands off in a deliberate manner.
“Now then, how can I help you? Are you the friend Tracey and
Tav mentioned in their phone call?” She spoke with a mild Italian accent which
just added another intriguing facet to a very alluring puzzle.
Peyton had every intention of agreeing and suggesting they
head toward baggage claim, post haste. Instead, he blurted, “You’re my mate!”
Sue cleared her throat again and shook her head sharply,
seemingly disappointed.
“Why don’t you try introducing yourself first, hmm hotshot?
That’s how this is supposed to go. I don’t know what Tracey’s told you about
me, but I don’t “mate” with strangers.”
She paused, “Is that what you kids are calling it these
days?”
Peyton groaned aloud. How could he have been so gauche? That
was probably the most out-of-character thing he’d done in over a decade, maybe
his entire life, though he had gotten in some awkward scrapes
entertaining his favorite cousin. It was just that this woman’s scent had been
so moving, so overpowering. No doubt, his Alpha was going to skin him alive,
Peyton bemoaned internally. After all that he’d gone through for the honor of
becoming Beta to this pack, to throw it all away, along with the claiming of
his newfound mate, just because of a few ill thought out words.
Not thought out words, to be precise.
And now she was going to live with him? Or he with
her…either way, this was going to be tough.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Capitello,” he choked out. “Please
forget I said that. Can we start over? My name is Peyton Livingston.” He
extended one hand and waited. He could have sloughed the entire thing off as a
joke—a slick flirtation…except that she was his mate and he
frankly didn’t do flirtations. No, he couldn’t scare her off
or take a chance that he’d offend her. For the first time in his life, Peyton
hoped for something more, something beyond duty to his pack, and possible
acceptance.
* * * *
After due consideration, Sue extended a hand to the young
man. It had to be one of Tracey’s practical jokes…or maybe Tav’s. He didn’t
seem to have a very active sense of humor, but you never knew when that man
would get together with those brothers of his and decide to make mischief.
Well, she could be just as naughty as the next forty-ish single woman.
Sue stepped back and gave Peyton a slow, deliberate look
over. Starting with his long, lean legs, her gaze lingered at his trim hips
encased in business-casual slacks, then traveled up over a tight, sculpted
abdomen, taut torso, thick, well muscled shoulders, tanned throat and up. She
was nearly breathless by that time and swallowed discreetly. Moving on, her
eyes feasted on his strong, angular chin, imagining the brush of his stubbled
cheek against her skin. The appearance of a dimple drew her to his sensuous
lower lip and looked up, before she became lost in sinful thoughts.
He had an amused, questioning look in his deep, amber
eyes, bracketed by welcoming laugh lines, but she only lingered there a moment.
His thick, sleek eyebrows waggled, but she ignored it, letting her gaze sweep
his wide forehead, resting on wavy hair that seemed an even mix of rich
chocolate brown and cinnamon. If she had to compare him to anyone, Tom Selleck
came to mind. She wondered if he had that lovely carpet of chest hair sported
by the actor he favored.
Well, that was neither here nor there. What was important
was that he thought he had the upper hand and of course, he did not. So, not
only did she have a sexy toy to play with, it was time to tease him a little.
Today was indeed her lucky day.
~~~
And thaaat's all folks!
At least for now. I enjoyed myself completely and I hope
you'll come back to my blog and visit often--I'll try to keep things fresh for
you
Take care!
J.J. Massa
www.jjmassa.com
