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Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Janet Lane Walters and 50 Years of Writing

Janet lane Walters was born in Wilkensburg, Pa July 17, 1936 reported to be the hottest day of the summer. She has been a published author since 1968 beginning with short stories and moving into novels when an editor told her a short story sounded like a synopsis for a novel. In the 197os and 1980s she published 4 sweet nurse romance novels. Then she returned to school to earn a BS in Nursing and a BA in English. Returning to work as a nurse to help put four children through college she put her writing career on hold. In 1993 she retired from nursing and began writing again. A new nurse romance followed in print. Then she discovered electronic publishing and since 1998 has been electronically published.

Janet calls herself an eclectic writer since she moved from genre to genre. There are mysteries featuring Katheine Miller a former nurse who seems to stumble over bodies wherever she goes. Using her interest in Astrology, she ahs several series that use Astrology as a premise for the stories. Once she earned enough money to travel to Ireland by casting charts for people. She has many books in the romance genre, some of them are contemporary and are nurse romance, others fall into the fantasy or paranormal forms of romance. Interested in reincarnation, she has used this as a jumping point for at least two novels. Two of her novels deal with alternate worlds using a love affair with Ancient Egypt.

Under her other name J.L. Walters she has written a YA fantasy series called Affinities. She has also written a non-fiction book when her co-author Jane Toombs that won the EPIC Award in 2003 for best Non-fiction. During her career she has received other awards and has a number of great reviews.

Besides her four adult children, she has seven grandchildren. Five of them are the models for the YA series. The other two arrived too late to play a large role in the series. Four of her grandchildren are bi-racial and 3 are chinese so the eclectic even invades her family. She has been married to the same man for more than 50 years. He's a psychiatrist who refuses to cure her obsession for writing.


A funny thing happened on my way to publish my first novel. I had sent a short story to an editor who had purchased several others. Her response set me off to do some research. "Your story sounds like the synopsis for a novel." I had mastered short stories and had no intention of writing a novel. Two things intervened. The short story market was dwindling with fewer magazines printing short stories. The second was the challenge. Could I write a novel? My short stories were short between two thousand and five thousand words. A novel was a lot longer. I went to the library and took out every book I could find about writing novels and sat down to read. The first bit of advice was "Write what you know." Though the short story had been a mystery, I felt writing one was too complicated, so I looked for another idea. I knew about nurses, doctors and hospitals. I also knew romance might be something to try so I sat down and planned and plotted. Pages of character development. Searching for the perfect settings. Visiting a small town to get a feel for the location. 

Finally, New Nurse In Town was born. The heroine needed to get away. She had caught her fiancé in bed with another woman. Though he tried to assure her this meant nothing, she was crushed, and she runs to the town where her brother lives. There she meets the local doctor and applies for a job at the clinic. I began the book in 1969 and felt confident that I had written a great book. Weren't my short stories bought almost as soon as they were written. Wrong. But I learned. The book was finally published in 1972. There may be copies, other than the ones on my shelf, floating around.

As you can see, I've been published for a long time. Fifty years ago, things were different from today. At the time I began, both magazine and book publishers abounded. Then the short story market dried up, unless you wrote literary stories and could be published by a university press. When I began submitting my novels, there were dozens of book publishers. Some only published hard cover books and the others published paperbacks.  Now the number has dwindled and changed. There are print only, print and eBook, publishers and eBook only. When I began, there was something that really helped me hone my writing skills. The editors wanted the whole manuscript. The editors often made comments all over your manuscript or put words of advice in the rejection letter. New Nurse in Town was rejected many times, but the comments came back, such as "Your characters are acting in vacuum." "Your characters sound the same. Where are their voices?" There's a weakness in your plot line." "Revise, revise, revise." All of these suggestions helped immensely and finally the first book became published. A version was published in England and it was also serialized in a newspaper. All in all, these past 50 years have been an adventure, alone, with friends and with the characters in my books.

Buy Link for Murder and Bitter Tea:
 
https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Bitter-Mrs-Miller-Mysteries/dp/1773622463/ref=la_B0034P79H0_1_13?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1518640533&sr=1-13&refinements=p_82%3AB0034P79H0
 
You can Find Janet at
https://twitter.com/JanetL717
https://www.facebook.com/janet.l.walters.3?v=wall&story_fbid=113639528680724
http://bookswelove.net/
http://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com
http://bookswelove.net/authors/walters-janet-lane-romance-fantasy-suspense-medical/

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Computer Tech Scams

My husband experienced a scam I hadn't heard of so I thought I'd share info about it in case it happened to any of you.

He turned on his computer and a loud voice said "Your computer has been locked and blocked. Do not turn it off or you could be exposed to id fraud and virus. Call this number right away.
He immediately called that number and someone answered and helped him unlock the computer and explained that he had been hacked and about the number of virus that had infected the computer, but they would clean it up for him. However he had to purchase one of three plans, immediately before they could start work. The plans were 1-2 and lifetime and went from $400 - $700. It was with American Geek.
I told my husband to tell them no and hang up, and searched American Geek and it immediately came up tech scam.

Here's some of the information it said.
One easy way to quickly detect a Windows tech support scam is to look at the domain name that appears in the address bar of your browser. If you're being told that Microsoft has found a problem on your computer and the address says something confusing like originifitsnormalpro.xys, you can be pretty sure someone's trying to scam you.
When the scammers go full screen on you things get a little more complicated. At first glance, everything seems legit: the browser has that reassuring green button at the left that indicates the web page is secure and belongs to Microsoft. The address bar reads support.microsoft.com. The scary alert pop-up even shows "https://support.microsoft.com/ says:" at the top.

It's a full-screen webpage that's pretending to be a browser. Like other tech support scams, this one does its best to convince you that there's really something wrong with your computer. The alert assaults users with warnings about very real malware.
And just like a good late night "as seen on TV" pitch, the scammers try to create a sense of urgency. They tell you that your computer will be locked and blocked from the network "to prevent further damage." To make sure you feel compelled to take action, they ask that you call in the next five minutes... just like the Sham-Wow guy so famously did.
Beware of American Geek.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Self-publishing News


I’m having a few challenges with my blog, so I hope you’ll hang in there with me. You think you have everything under control and then life comes up and smacks you down.
I lost one of my Shiba’s this past week, my best friend for sixteen years. It’s an extremely difficult thing losing a family member as I’m sure many of you know. And Thursday my guest blogger didn’t show up.

I’m trying to get back in to a routine – so here’s the blog I should have posted Tuesday.  This is from ALLi. You can read it the full article at https://selfpublishingadvice.org/self-publishing-news-epub-and-you/
Not so long ago, we were waiting for Apple to smash through the ceiling to become the first $1Tn company. That may still happen, but there was a brief wobble as iPhone sales dropped from 78.2 to 77.3 million in the last quarter of 2017, though revenue of $88bn with an eye-watering $20bn profit is still pretty extraordinary. Amazon, meanwhile, on sales of $60bn, made a profit of “only” $1.9bn, though this was double their previous high and the first time they’ve broken through $1bn. I took home several messages from these figures (how very different the business models are, for example), but the main one for us as indies is salutory and it is this: we are a tiny tiny part of the pie for these behemoths, and when we start talking about flexing our muscle  when we don’t like changes, that’s what we need to remember. And talking of big moves and big numbers, Facebook‘s drive to reduce the time we spend there seems to be paying off, with a reported 2.14% drop in time spent on the site – which equates to 184 million daily US users, down from 185 million.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Kathleen Rowland's New Book and Tour


Book Buyers Best finalist Kathleen Rowland is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with an erotic love story sure to melt their hearts.  Her latest release is One Night in Havana, #34 in the City Nights series.
Kathleen also has a steamy romantic suspense series with Tirgearr Publishing, Deadly Alliance is followed by Unholy Alliance. Keep an icy drink handy while reading these sizzling stories.

Kathleen used to write computer programs but now writes novels.   She grew up in Iowa where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake Okoboji.  Now she wears flip-flops and sails with her husband, Gerry, on Newport Harbor but wishes there were lightning bugs in California.
 
Kathleen exists happily with her witty CPA husband, Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California where she adores time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, one bunny, and noisy neighbors.  While proud of their five children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write.

Character Interview from One Night in Havana
What’s your name?
Veronica Keane, but family and friends call me Roni.
Where did you grow up?
New York City
During what time-period does your story take place?
Today.
What’s your story/back story?
You might say I’m a parent-pleaser, but what only child isn’t? My dream is to continue my late father’s research for the octopus’ nervous system by winning the grant at Cephalopod conference in Havana. I’d gain my mother’s respect, but she’d be even more ecstatic if I settled into a marriage and had children.
Why would someone come up with a story about you?
I only appear to be living an opulent lifestyle. Frustration is building. Except for research, my existence is sterile.
What’s your goal in this story?

Will I ever love a man enough to want to be with him for twenty-four hours? After that day is over, will a longing to be together follow or will I go back to my passionless life?
What conflicts are you facing?

I meet my competitor for the grant, Dr. Carlos Montoya. He’s smart, funny, and as ironic as it is, our research intersects.  After a couple of hours of talking and loving, I’ve met my soulmate. He’s a communist. I love my country.
Do you have a plan for resolving them?
What can star-crossed lovers do? Just when I met the love of my life, we’ll have to go our separate ways. How can I make the dream to be with this vibrant man come true?
confroIs there anything else you’d like us to know about you?
In spite of the fact Carlos is prideful and somewhat confrontational, I bring out the best in him. He needs a pushy New Yorker like me. She listens to his ranting until the bottom falls out. Trepidation builds inside me, and I don’t know what to expect at the final rewards ceremony.

Blurb from One Night in Havana:
A desperate competition and sizzling attraction leads to dangerous desire.
New York Marine biologist Veronica “Roni” Keane is attending the Havana Bay Conference in Cuba. Tomorrow only one grant will be awarded which will provide the winner with professional recognition, resources for a project, and living expenses for two years. She hopes to continue her deceased father’s work, but smooth operator, Carlos Montoya, has won many grants in the past.

 Carlos, a freelancer for the Havana Port Authority, works to help protect Havana’s reputation as a bastion of safety. As international travelers flock to the island, attracted by its 1950’s time-warp and colonial architecture, the drug business is running rampant, particularly on Roni’s cruise ship. Something’s not right, and when her scuba tanks are tampered with, Carlos brings in the military police to investigate. For her safety, he keeps her close, but he craves her body.

Their attraction leads to a fun night with a bit of kink. But Roni finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for when the criminals blame her for alerting the military police and come looking for her. Can Roni trust Carlos to protect her? Will she stay in Havana if Carlos wins the coveted grant, or kiss her lover goodbye?

Excerpt from One Night in Havana::
Chapter One
“Why, Veronica Keane.” A voice heavy with a Spanish accent drawled from behind her. “A dive bar?” A taunting tsk. “What do we have? A slumming New Yorker?”
She stiffened and closed her eyes. She knew that voice and its owner, Dr. Carlos Montoya, a finalist like her, competing for the same damn grant at the biggest Cephalopoda conference of the decade. Her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs. To turn toward him would intimate distress, or worse yet, weakness. She wouldn’t fail to win this grant, not when she was a final contender. “I like this funky little place.” Sia Macario Café, smack in the center of Havana, allowed her to observe locals and their daily lives.
“You need to eat with all the mojitos you’ve downed.” The big tease wasn’t counting. This was her first drink, but his rumbling, sexy timbre hinted at all kinds of dark, hot promises. She’d rubbed shoulders with the Cuban scientist all week. This splendid specimen of Latin male brought on a physical ache that punched low.
A flare-up stirred fear. For her own good, she needed to resist. “I ordered camarones enchiladas.” By now she knew the menu on the chalkboard by heart. She tipped her head back to whiff grilled shrimp soon to arrive in sofrito sauce with fried sweet plantains.
“The flan is good. Just like my abuela makes.”
I bet. Your grandmother would be happy to hear that,” she said, knowing he brought out the best in most people. Two days ago he'd invited her and a handful of others scuba diving. The chance to ogle him had been one of the perks. He’d worn nothing but swim trunks, his bare chest on display. Every glistening muscle was finely etched. Not a drop of fat on him. Since he’d not given her the time of day, she’d checked him out without him noticing.
The hard-bodied host had led the way toward habitats of soft-bodied creatures. To find where invertebrates lived was never an easy task. Octopuses squeezed into narrow passages of coral for protection and gave females a place to keep their eggs. She’d discovered the remains of a few meals nearby. Octopuses scattered rocks and shells to help them hide.
This grant meant so much to her and no doubt to him as well. Veronica mindlessly toyed with the gold necklace around her neck, but anxiety crackled through her brain. Unlike this man of action, she lacked the flamboyant personality necessary to talk people into things. Carlos had that ability. He'd made friends with judges on board while she’d conversed with an older woman about a box of scones made with Cuban vanilla cream.
That day the wind had picked up to a gale force, and this woman named Bela with Lucille Ball red hair needed help walking to her home. The half mile down the seaside promenade, The Malecón, had provided her with time to practice her Spanish. Turned out Bela was Carlos’s grandmother. She’d worked as a maid when the Castro government came to power. When private homes were nationalized, titles were handed over to the dwelling occupants. Bela owned a crumbling home in the respected Verdado district and rented out rooms.
What Veronica detested about Carlos was his abnormal level of talent for schmoozing. Not that he wasn't charismatic; he drew her like a powerful magnet with emotions hard to untangle. Why was a self-assured woman who ran her own life thinking about a man who commanded everyone around him?
She inhaled a breath and turned around on the barstool, caught fast by a gut punch of Carlos Montoya in the flesh. She sighed and surrendered to the tendrils of want, sliding up between her thighs.
Tall and muscular, his lush dark hair curled to his collar giving him a wild, roguish appearance. His face was lean and chiseled. His mouth full and tempting. His eyes the smoky-gray of a grass fire and fringed with black lashes as dense as paintbrushes. He smiled. A faint hint of mockery curved his mouth, a sensual mouth she imagined to be either inviting or cruel. Or both at the same time when he leaned over a woman with a diamond-hard gleam in his dark eyes while she drowned with pleasure. She fought a fierce desire to run her hand across his broad chest, tip her face upward, and…
His breath tickled her face.
Not going there. She blinked and forced her mind to focus. Carlos Montoya was not the kind of man you lost focus around. But that image of putting her mouth full on his and peeling away his shirt once introduced in her mind was impossible to expunge. Pointless even to try.
He was an intimidating blend of intellect and sexy danger. Both qualities had her leaning back against the bar’s edge. If it weren’t for him, she’d have a chance at winning the grant.
His lips twitched. “You’re staying on one of the cruise ships, am I right?” He rolled up the sleeves of his linen jacket to reveal a dusting of manly hair.
”Yes." Her cabin served as her hotel room while attending the January meetings with perfect high-seventies temperatures. His eyes locked with hers. She willed herself to move and yet she remained seated, clutching heat between her legs, a wetness so intense that her breath stalled in her chest while her heart hammered faster. Soon she’d return to freezing New York City.
“So, Bonita, give.” He slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What brings you down from a lofty ship to grace us lowly Cubans with your presence?”
Bonita. Pretty lady was not an endearment coming from the mouth curved in a taunting smile, but not a slight either. Not with his deep, melodic voice speaking words as if he knew secrets about her. What secrets did he know? Would he pry into her personal life? She doubted this bad-boy college professor acknowledged boundaries.
“Just drinks and dinner.” She scrambled for composure. “Aren’t we attending a world-class conference? I find the local population to be friendly and kind. That’s not slumming.”
The bartender set down a saoco. “Hope you like it, senorita.”
“Gracias,” she said. “Very nice, served in a coconut.”
“Ah, the saoco,” Carlos said. “Rum, lime juice, sugar, and ice. The saoco,” he repeated, disbelief heavy in his words. “Um. Wow. Once used as a tonic for prisoners of the revolution.”
“Medicinal?” She couldn’t help it. She chuckled and sounded as if a rusty spoon had scraped her throat raw, but it was genuine. The warm glow in its wake was welcome and needed.
He leaned an elbow on the bar, his beer bottle with the green-and-red Cristal label dangling between his fingers. “Be careful with that one.” He dipped his head toward the front door as if he needed to go somewhere soon.
That fast, the glow snuffed out. She cleared her throat and gripped the fuzzy surface of the coconut container.
He placed a five-peso coin with a brass plug on the counter and whirled it. The spinning motion mirrored a dizzying attraction going on in low parts of her belly.
She cleared her wayward mind and nodded toward artwork on the opposite wall. “I plan to buy a painting tonight.”
Don’t buy anything unless the seller gives you a certificate. You’ll need one to take art from Cuba. Artists deal in euros in case you don’t have pesos.”
She’d come prepared but said, “Thanks for the info.”
His coal-black eyes widened as he gazed from her head down to the tiny straps around her ankles as if she wore high heels and nothing else. “You give off a Barbie doll image,” he replied and stood up.
“Huh?”
“Where’s Ken, anyway? Kenneth Morton. He came with you to the talks in Antarctica. Five years ago.” He grinned, and the mortification in her belly gave way to a longing which she had no business feeling toward her competitor.
“Ken and I broke up.” She hesitated for a moment. “You have a gift for remembering names. Like a salesman.”
A person’s name is, to that person, the most important and sweetest sound. Back then I introduced myself to Ken in the men’s room.”
“I remember now. Didn’t you give a talk on a specialized pigment in the octopus?”
“Ahh, si.” He splayed his fingers over his chest. “A pigment in their blood is—”
 “—called hemocyanin. Turns their blood blue and helps them survive subfreezing temperatures. Were you awarded something?”
“The antifreeze protein grant? No. It went to a deep-diving photographer. He wasn’t chicken about getting lost or trapped under the ice.”
She slid from her stool and strutted around, jutting her chin in and out like a chicken. “Bock, bock, bock, bock, bock, begowwwwk.”
He chuckled. “Cute chicken dance. Very cute in that skimpy black dress.”
Her cheeks heated, and she clutched her necklace. He’d seen plenty of women in body-fitting attire. In Cuba, women wore dresses to meetings. If she'd harnessed sexier mojo, she’d have livened up presentations. Her presentations with an abundance of dull data went south. She slid back against her stool and clutched her purse to her stomach as if the small satin bag could calm the nerves playing deep down kickball. She belonged in her tidy New York office filled with computers, modems, and research manuals. Not in this softly lit café where passion oozed from a man’s pores, and artists displayed their canvases. Here was where Havana’s trendsetters congregated, and Ernest Hemingway wrote about desire.
“Good luck with your purchases, Veronica Keane.”
Okay, so they weren’t going to pretend they were going head to head for the grant.
As if he had more to say, he grinned at her, his perfect white teeth flashing.. “Do you find us different, like apples and oranges?”
“What am I, an apple or an orange?”
“Hmm. You’re an apple.” He was doing that sexy voice thing which made her brain shut down. Heady.
It started with an unexpected spark, an instant attraction, the jolting jab of oh-I’m-feeling-something. Something like a flashfire in her belly, but now they were talking. “Am I the apple of desire? Want to take a bite out of me?” She pulled in a breath. Had she really said that?
Bonita, do I ever.”
“Tomorrow is the final ceremony.” Would she watch him walk to the podium to accept the grant?

Buy link for One Night in Havana
Amazon Buy Link
 
Kathleen will be awarding 3 lucky winners a $10 Amazon Gift Certiticate. Winners will be chosen randomly with Rafflecopter. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

Social Media Links:
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Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Put a Bounce in Your Writing


We’re writers, and the saying is ‘butt in chair and write.’ So, we sit down and write, sometimes for hours.

This is called a static unmoving situation and can translate into immobility of joints and tension on the muscles that support those joints.

I’m guilty of this and thought my stiffness was just part of getting old.

The biggest thing to help to prevent the stiffness is small breaks. I set a timer for every hour.  Then I get up and take a walk. You can also stretch, do a five minute workout, whatever works for you. as long as you're moving those joints.

This will help bring mobility back to the joints and stretch the muscles.

It’s also important to increase your activity when you finish writing; workout at the gym, take a yoga class or try Tai chi. These will help counter the time spent in one position, hunched over the computer.

You can also change the way you write. I know someone who uses a standing desk because of her back. There are other ergonomic desks you can try. Or use a fitness ball. It’s fairly inexpensive, helps with your core muscles and gets you moving a little more than a regular chair.


You can also buy fitness ball chairs. (Who knew?)

If you're using a ball, keep your feet flat on the floor and you should be at eye level with your computer screen.
Whatever works for you, but you still need to take those breaks.

I’m bouncing along as I write this blog. I prefer it to the standard chair. And my timer just went so I’m off for a short walk to get more coffee. Anyone want to join me?

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Madison Michael's New Book and Tour


Madison Michael traded 28 years in Fortune 500 tech and management positions for a chance to spend her days with sassy heroines, sexy, rich heroes, and nothing but happy endings. Growing up the daughter of a librarian, she learned to love books, especially classics and romances, and spent winters cuddled under blankets losing herself in books.

Madison is the author of three novels in the Beguiling Bachelor series, as well as several short stories. She is a member of Romance Writers of America.

After living in the northeast, southeast and the west, Maddy returned to her Midwest roots. She lives in Evanston, IL with two feline editorial assistants and great views of Chicago’s famous skyline.

Character Interview
Interviewer: What’s your name?
Matthew: Matthew Herrington
Interviewer: Where did you grow up?
Matthew: Just outside San Francisco in the fabulous town of Burlingame CA.
Interviewer: During what time period does your story take place?
Matthew: This story takes place from 1950 to the present.
Interviewer: What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?
Matthew: I am really just your average guy, I have no idea why Madison thought I was worth a story. Well that is, until a special winter night in Chicago when my world went topsy-turvy. I don’t want to give too much away, but if you ever get a chance to experience a Thursday “Swing Night” at The Green Mill Lounge, don’t pass it up.
Interviewer: What’s your goal in this story?
Matthew: I have met a special girl, Patty Dennisen, and I want to win her heart. I would love to learn a few spiffy dance moves too.
Interviewer: What conflicts are you facing?
Matthew: Well, it’s as if Patty and I lived in two different worlds – literally. This is a huge obstacle for us to overcome.
Interviewer: Do you have a plan for resolving them?
Matthew: Patty and I are trying to work things out but it doesn’t look good.
Interviewer: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?
Matthew: I always loved traveling, but when I became a consultant I discovered the lonely side of traveling for work. So be patient and kind if you meet someone traveling for business. Remember they are far from friends, family, and home.

Blurb from Our Love is Here to Stay:

Thirty-year old Matthew Herrington is weary of solo nights in strange cities. He is ready for a change. And that is exactly what he gets when he steps into Swing Night at The Green Mill and is instantly immersed in the sights and sounds of another era. Intrigued by the club’s authenticity, Matthew is enchanted when he meets Patty, a mixture of sexy and sweet who steals his heart.

Patty Dennison has never met a man like Matthew in all her twenty-one years. A sophisticated man, he stands out from the usual Swing Night crowd. He is self-assured, smart, charming, and handsome as hell, even if he is a lousy dancer. Once he takes her in his arms, Patty is more than willing to give him a few dance lessons along with her heart.

Repeated missed dates and unanswered phone calls strain the relationship and frustrate the pair. But unraveling their mystery exposes an impossible scenario, one that will torment their sanity and test their love.

How can they make their fairytale last? Can love transcend time?

Excerpt from Our Love is Here to Stay:

A waitress came to take it off his hands. “Another?” she queried, and he nodded agreement, placing a crumpled dollar on her tray. “Too much,” she told him shaking her head no. Matthew was surprised by her response, but the tray was covered with loose change, so he removed his bill and left the equivalent in quarters. Everything was so inexpensive, but the server still needed to make a decent living.

She gave him a grateful smile and turned to move to her next customer, carefully balancing her tray above the heads of the young people around her. In the process, she nudged Matthew slightly causing him to lose his footing and fall gently against another body. Turning to apologize he found himself staring into the clearest, lightest blue eyes he had ever seen. He couldn’t look away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled when he finally regained his composure.

“That’s okay,” she replied with a quick, bright smile. She was lovely, in a wholesome girl next door way. She had her blond hair pulled into a ponytail that curled like a hair product ad, clear-skinned cheeks that were pink with warmth and perhaps exertion, and a curvy body displayed under a bright red sweater and a flared plaid skirt.

Matthew felt his mouth go dry and his palms get sweaty. She did something to him, this fresh-faced woman that he found incredibly sexy. Her red lipstick was a slash of bright color mimicking the red of the sweater. Until this moment, bright red lipstick screamed “tough broad, stay away” to Matthew but on this girl it whispered “come hither.”

“Matthew,” he squeaked out, extending his hand to shake hers. Thinking twice about it, he retracted his arm, running his palm against his pants swiftly, and hopefully surreptitiously, before he extended his hand again.

“Patty,” she responded, placing her soft fingers in his large palm. She shook like a girl. After all the bone-breaking handshakes Matthew had endured across the globe, this limp, fingers-only shake surprised him. She looked athletic, not tough but toned, and not sickly pale like most Chicagoans in winter. The handshake didn’t match the image and normally would have bothered him. Nothing about Patty bothered him. Everything about her bothered him.

Buy Links for Our Love is Here to Stay:

 
 
Madison has some fabulous giveaways for this tour. Remember you may visit the other tour stops to increase your chances of winning. You may find those locations here

Romance and TimeTravel Prize Package #1: Includes  Books: Outlander, Time Traveler's Wife and Beyond the Highland Mist and  DVDs: Somewhere in Time, The Lake House, the eBook Our Love Is Here To Stay.
Romance and TimeTravel Prize Package #2: One of the books above and 1 of the DVDs plus the eBook for Our Love Is Here To Stay.
Romance and TimeTravel Prize Package #3: One of the books above or one DVD plus the eBooks Our Love Is Here To Stay.

You can contact Madison at:
Website | Madison's Blog | Maddy's Romance Madness | Facebook | Twitter