Saturday, December 8, 2012


Ecstatic?? YUP! Petrified?? YOU BET!! About ready to pee my pants?? THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT!!!  This is me when I found out that my BLOG TOUR for PHOENIX: THE RISING is in the works:

Pic taken out so I can avoid possible litigation!
(YUM--Love me some Bacon)

I am TOTALLY pumped and honored that the AMAZING blogs by the Girls In The Stacks, My Guilty Obsession, and Kate's Tales of Books and Bands (so far) have welcomed me with open arms. 

Sounds like I'll be doing some guest posts, a playlist, giveaways and **whispering in sweat-inducing anticipation** A PODCAST **gulp**. That last one made me rush to previous podcasts by my girlies to try and figure out what they'll be asking me. I found out two things: 1) There is no generic list of questions because they are really interested in YOU and YOUR story, and 2) there is a LOT of giggling that goes on, which is good, cuz I'm gonna giggle like a school girl on her first date!  

As soon as I know the names of the other blogs on the tour and all the dates are set in stone (this begins 1-12-13), I will SHOUT IT FROM THE MOUNTAINTOP! If you'd like to be part of the tour, just let me know, or contact Emma at We'd love to put you on the schedule!

Meanwhile, I will have a little Irish Mist and REMAIN CALM... :)

Monday, December 3, 2012

I'll Take Manhattan...Another SNEAK PEEK!

I've been working on my next WIP--I'LL TAKE MANHATTAN--one of my Four Sisters novels--and decided to rewrite the whole thing in first-person-present POV. I've written in first person before, but choosing to go present-tense is a big, risky step for me. New authors can sometimes slaughter present-tense and make it extremely uncomfortable and unenjoyable for the reader, but I'm hoping I can really sink my teeth into the characters and their internal conflict by going present-tense. I at least have to give it a try. Anyhoo, here are the first 750 words or so of I'LL TAKE MANHATTAN. Please let me know what you think...

“Wish me luck, George.” My shoes hit the pavement of 15 Central Park West, and I know this is it. I tug at the knot of my Lorenzo Cana charcoal silk. Her favorite. At least that’s what she says every time I wear the damn thing. Today it feels like a noose around my neck. Choking me. Taunting me to turn and run while I have a chance. I can broker multi-million dollar deals, butt heads with Trump and his cronies, but this one little deed, the utterance of four simple words, has me sweating like Fat Bastard in a Santa suit. Is it worth it? Damn straight it’s worth it. She’s worth it.
George closes the door behind me as only George can do. Noiselessly.
“Ain’t no such thing as luck, Mr. Jamison. Either the woman loves you, or she doesn’t.”
My hand slips over the obscenely expensive lump in my jacket pocket for the millionth time that morning, seeking some type of palpable reassurance of the decision I’ve made. Pffft.  Of course she loves me. Who wouldn’t? I’m Collin Edward Jamison III. Heir to the largest real estate development firm in New York City. Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor...
George raises an eyebrow as he waits for my reply. He’s expecting me to say something like that. Something cocky and self-absorbed. But George knows as well as I do that Annette Bradshaw is the love of my life. This time, he’ll have to settle for the truth instead of a smart-ass answer.
“She loves me.”
Shit. Now what?
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? In case she chases you off with her briefcase?” George winks and lets loose a throaty James Earl Jones chuckle, the kind that seems to start in his toes before working its way up to his deep baritone vocal cords. I can’t help but smile.
“I don’t plan on needing your services until later in the day, George.” I shoot him my own wink. “Much later. Miss Bradshaw and I will have a bit of .... celebrating to do.” I pat the lump one more time, then head for the door to Annette’s building.
George’s booming voice stops me in my tracks, the same way it did when I was eight years old and he caught me pissing in my mother’s rose bushes. I turn, expecting George to give me one more tidbit of unsolicited fatherly advice, or at least a May the Force be with you. After all, it isn’t every day that a man asks a woman to marry him, and George’s advice was the closest thing I’d be getting to anything fatherly. Instead, I find him holding out a brown paper bag.
“You forgot your bagels ... and I think you’re gonna need your strength, Mr. Jamison. Celebrating takes a lot of energy.” George guffaws at his own joke and shoves the bag at my chest, but I block the assault before it crushes the Lorenzo Cana. Her favorite.  Those two words follow on the tail of “Lorenzo Cana” as automatically as the succulent memory of her wearing nothing but that charcoal silk and an I’m gonna make you beg for mercy look in her chocolate brown eyes the day she gave it to me.  The thought elicits a delicious but inconvenient tug in my groin. At least I don’t feel like I’m choking anymore.
“Thanks, old man.”
“Old? What do you mean, old, you little pipsqueak?” George puffs his chest out like a rooster in a henhouse. “I’ve done more celebrating on a daily basis for the last thirty years than you’ll do in the next sixty.” George struts around the Mercedes to the driver’s door. “As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna head on home and do some celebrating myself, since you won’t be needing my services for the day.”  
I chuckle. “You do that, George.”
George slides into the driver’s seat and, for the first time in recorded history, slams the door of his beloved Mercedes. Holy shit! Seems I ruffled the old man’s feathers.
I turn and face the nineteen-story tower as George drives away, take a deep breath to calm my nerves, pat the lump in my pocket one more time, and smile.
She loves me.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

CHARADE by Nyrae Dawn--A Review

I can't help myself ... I just have to review CHARADE by Nyrae Dawn! That's how much I love it!

Nyrae Dawn has made me fall in love with contemporary romance all over again, first, with her YA hit--What A Boy Wants, and now with her New Adult masterpiece--Charade--a beautiful, heart-wrenching love story of two souls who need each other more than each ever want to admit.

Colt and Cheyenne swept me away in their little charade and it wasn't just the romance that got me, but their stories--the relationship each of them have with their mothers--the lives each have had to endure and overcome. I could feel the hopelessness, the choking fingers of panic around Cheyenne's neck I've experienced so many times in my own life, and the relief and true passion they found in each others' arms.

Charade is a novel that will make you laugh, cry, and order pizza for your family so you can finish reading it. It deserves nothing less than five stars!

Here's her cover (YUM!!) and a blurb about the story!

Nineteen-year-old Cheyenne tries to portray the perfect life to mask the memories of her past. Walking in on her boyfriend with another woman her freshman year in college threatens that picture of perfection. 

Twenty-one-year-old Colt never wanted college and never expected to amount to anything, but when his mom's dying wish is for him to get his degree, he has no choice but to pretend it's what he wants too. 

Cheyenne needs a fake boyfriend to get back at her ex and Colt needs cash to take care of his mom, so they strike a deal that helps them both. But what if Cheyenne’s past isn’t what she thought? Soon they’re trading one charade for another—losing themselves in each other to forget about their pain. The more they play their game, the more it becomes the only thing they have that feels real.

Both Cheyenne and Colt know life is never easy, but neither of them expect the tragedy that threatens to end their charade and rip them apart forever.