US Publisher Release & Second book release!

 I'm not sure I'm quite out of blog hibernation as yet, but when one has good news it's great to share it with friends (blog followers). HELLO!! Hope you're all doing well writing-wise...

My good news the US published novel, long awaited novel has come to fruition one year after subbing it.  This it it, a cross-genre chick-lit/sensual romance novel.

It's on release at Amazon! 

Amazon. co.uk

Amazon. com

Blurb:
In the past Tania has masqueraded as Nina at parties, and likewise Nina has pretended to be Tania. As far as Tania is concerned one more act of deception isn’t going to hurt anybody. Despite Nina’s reluctance, she’s won over by Tania’s pleading ways and travels to London on a pre-arranged date with a Polo playing playboy. Against her better judgement she becomes as smitten by Allessandre as that of his prized stallions, and one mad moment of intimacy seals an inescapable bond between them.

Aware his heart is already captured, nevertheless Allessandre has it in mind he’s been duped by identical twins. Although a man borne of honour, he has a ruthless and vengeful nature. Determined to unveil the twins and teach them a lesson they won’t forget, revenge proves bittersweet when the one he truly desires takes flight. Forced to travel half way around the globe in attempt to redeem his unforgivable behaviour he has no idea she walks with lions, nor that a lioness will challenge his desire to be the life-long protector of the one he loves.





My second release is a historical:

Amazon .com

Amazon .co.uk

~

A Romantic Georgian Murder Mystery: the year is 1800: Naples and Venice.

Amidst a gathering of nobility and gentry a daring jewel theft occurs. A young naval lieutenant suggests the notorious Venetian jewel thief could well be a woman, but a beautiful Russian countess scoffs at his suggestion albeit in coquettish manner. Determined to unmask the identity of the thief, at the same time intrigued by the countess, Lt Herne covertly follows Therese around Naples. But where the countess treads murders occur with frequency and she suddenly takes flight to Venice.

Ordered to the Adriatic on naval business Herne drops anchor in Venice. Tempted ashore by Carnivale a second encounter with the countess proves fatal for both. Madly in love they indulge in pleasurable pursuits but become embroiled in the mysterious death of a Russian count, and Therese feels duty bound to return to St Petersburg. Herne awaits her promised return to no avail. Three years later and back in England he discovers the countess on his doorstep, and wonders if he dare let his heart rule his head again? Equally, Therese fears a secret is best kept secret but Herne asks a potent question and she cannot lie for the truth is staring him in the face!



    

Romantic Friday Writers' Challenge!

The prompt for RFW this time is: 'Yes. No. Oh, All Right Then! '

Well, typically I had to modify this to fit existing prose, because I've again cheated with snippet from present WIP.

Brief: Lt Herne British Royal Navy (newly promoted to Commander Herne) and Countess Roscoff are highly attracted to each other. Although he knows the secret of what she is and what she has done, he has to prove it and is wary she may be one of Napoleon's spies...BTW, she lost her monkey and he's found it, or rather it found him... 

“Lieutenant Herne, Lieutenant Herne,” rang out like sweet music to the ears. For there was Therese, skirts hitched up, petticoats frothing and hat held to head and of all things, she was running like a wild young girl, not her usual elegant poise. Ropo squealed, deafeningly as he leapt from his shoulder. Subsequently, his naval hat bit the dust of the quayside steps. “You found him,” she managed, semi-breathless almost toppling over the edge of the quayside in her mad rush. The damn little monkey clung to her and chattered crazily as she hugged him to her temptingly exposed cleavage, and how he envied Ropo that treat. “I am so sorry my little love, so sorry you witnessed such a terrible, terrible happening. Poor, poor Ivan.” Tears brimmed and spilled forth, and it once again became his duty to offer a kerchief. “Thank you,” she said, a half smile, as he clambered ashore. “I already owe you so much, and now this. My Ropo safe and well.”
    “I had little to do with his rescue. He was more intent on robbing my pocket.”
    “Oh no. He tried to rob you.”
    “Only, in that I had demonstrated my pocket held nutty treats.”
    “Oh, I see.” She beamed a smile. “I heard you and Lord William tried to lure him from a rooftop but he wouldn’t oblige.”
    “We did, and finally gave up. I assumed he recognised the residency and would stay close if not finally venture to it in hope of finding you.”
    Damn, he should have kept quite, for her look implied wariness and he rightly expected a white lie in response. “But Ropo has never been there.”
    Thinking off-the-cuff and not wanting to alienate her, he said, “Yes, but primates like other animals have a greater sense of smell than you or I. Is it not more than possible his refusal to leave the rooftop implied sense of your presence, your scent keening his attention?”
    She scowled. “You choose to insult me by implying I smell?”
    “You know perfectly well what I meant.”
    She chuckled, a soft infuriating Therese chuckle. “I so love it when your eyes turn devilishly defensive, yet your tongue rebukes whilst visage a picture of amusement.”
    The waiting seaman coughed, a polite cough to attract attention. “Commander Herne,” said he. “Do you wish to stay ashore?”
    “No, I’ll be with you shortly.”
    He caught up Therese’ elbow and steered her out of earshot of the seaman, whilst she in excited haste exclaimed, “Commander Herne. Oh, I do apologise most sincerely. I had no knowledge of your promotion.”
    “No matter, it is of no great importance. Mere formality. But, what say you to a sea voyage, a short one on HMS Penultimate?”
    “Aboard your ship?”
    “All prim and proper and above deck, I assure you.”
    Her lip curled at the edge, provocative in extreme, her words tantalising. “Not to see your cabin, the captain’s cabin?”
    “If you wish.”
    “I wish.”
    Then will you grace Penultimate’s decks, tomorrow?”
    “Yes. No.” There was a long, excruciatingly long pause, and, “Oh, all right then!”
  In exuberance he broke with protocol, leaned forward and kissed her forehead.    
    “I do smell, then?”
    He laughed, leaned forward again and this time placed his lips to hers. Mercy mercy, this was dangerous territory for she could be one of Napoleon’s many spies.

Over word count: who cares...

To see entries by other participants, go here.

Picture Prompt Challenge!

~

My contribution to the Romantic Friday Writer's Challenge.

~

“Not bad, not bad at all. Legs up to their . . .” Momentary silence befell them, while Danny eyed the The Lollipops, the girls who were gigging at the pub. “Should have come here before . . . Why haven’t we?”

   “Dunno, but the girls said to meet ’em here tonight,” replied Ginger, eyeing a new arrival shimmying toward the bar. “Get a load of that.”

   Danny swung round, beer swilling from his glass. “Oh shit.”

   Tom burst out laughing. “Am I seeing things?”

   “Like what,” groaned Danny, a wet patch in his groin area. “Jeez, that’s all I need.”    

   Ginger glanced at Danny’s predicament, and roared with laughter. ‘Classic, mate. A sure sign of wet Lollipop dream. They’ll love you.”

   “Hey guys,” intoned Tom, eyes glued to the newcomer. “You sure you wanna hang out here?”

   “Yeah, why?” Ginger followed Tom’s line of vision. “Ah, see what you mean.”

   Danny turned in his seat, his foot catching that of a Lollipop girl: the trio making toward the podium. “Sorry about that, didn’t  . . .”

   Bright blues locked onto his, and Danny sensed . . . No, felt the vibes going through his body. Whoa, this couldn’t be happening.”

   “Hey sugar,” said blue-eyed Lollipop, deep rasping voice akin to that of an old movie star he’d seen on TV and kind of sexy with it, “come and see me later, after the gig.”

   Once again silence befell them as the Lollipops strolled past on skyscraper heels.

   “I’m out of here,” said Ginger, getting to his feet.

   “Too late,” said Tom, “the girls just walked in.”

   Danny glanced toward the door, Jenny having spotted their table and waving as though not having set eyes on him in weeks. Love’s young dream, and Jenny as remote from a Lollipop girl as that of . . .Damn it, why had the girls selected this pub for an anniversary do?

  “Oooh, big boy,” she said, slipping onto his knee, a kiss to lips as the Lollipops burst into song. “Missed me?”

  “Not yet, I’m still trying on that score.”

  She puckered her nose. “Great here, in’t it?” she said, addressing her best mates, his best mates girlfriends. “Different. Like kind of funnnnn different.”

   Charlene, Ginger’s girl said, “Yeah, and those Lollipops in’t half got some balls to stand up their in them there skimpies.”

   Sharon, Tom’s girl burst into laughter, said, “Big girls, in’t they. Like tall, tall.”

   Charlene started giggling. “Oh Danny, if you could see your face.”

   He laughed. “Come here.” The kiss potent, driven by lust, edged with guilt. “I love you.”

   “I know you do,” said Jenny, semi-breathless, “but what brought that on?”

   “Nothing, just saying.”

   Ginger laughed. “Happy Anniversary mate.” He raised his glass. “To all of us, one year down and two days to go to your big day.”

   “Thanks, Ging,” said Jenny. “Stag and Hen do in one is more fun, don’t you think? And guess what . . . Danny boy, you’re going to get to sing with the Lollipops.”

   “No way,” said Danny, hefting Jenny from his lap. “No bleeding way I am getting up there and singing along with trannies.”

   “Danny. Wait.”  

   Ginger laughed, got to his feet and raised his glass. “Bad move, Jenny, bad move.”

~

Hee hee, over word count if it's 400 for today's challenge. And believe it I penned this over lunch. OK: to see other participants in this picture prompt go here.

A-Z Challenge or posting up Gone Fishing?

Are you in the A-Z Challenge or have you opted for a month's holiday re blogging?

I'm taking a holiday from blogging for a few weeks: Have fun folks... :)

RFW Challenge/Blogfest!

OK RFWers, I'm in this week with a snippet from "Love Walked In"  a semi-autobiographical Romantic suspense penned in fictional context, which will be going live on Amazon in a week's time: or before if the fates smile upon me... 

‘After daddy’s death,’ said Fiona, noticeably tentative, as though doubting her chance of an answer, ‘you never really cried, not once . . . Did you miss him, or was it all over between you beforehand?’

  Cassie reached out, affectionately stroked her daughter’s face. ‘Oh yes, I missed him, very much. And no, it wasn’t all over between us. Don’t ask me why, but I think I would have forgiven your father for virtually anything.’ She would have, she knew that, with exception of a certain indiscretion that had hurt Mac, and hurt her too, when the truth came to light. ‘He had an irresistible appeal, your father, and almost impossible to say no to.’

  ‘I know things were a bit dodgy on occasion, but I’d hate to think . . .’

  Cassie hugged her daughter. ‘Your father never hurt me not while he was with us, not intentionally, but by hurting another it hurt me indirectly. It was something that happened a long time ago and of no consequence now, and life goes on.’  

  ‘And now,’ queried Fiona. ‘What of Mac? Do you think he will come back?’

  ‘Oh he’ll come back, one day.’ Cassie looked out of the window toward the paddocks where horses were standing in the shade of the chestnut tree: idly swishing tails and nodding their heads in the midday heat. ‘He rings me every night, when possible, though didn’t last night.’

  ‘But he’s been gone seven months.’

  ‘What’s that compared to the rest of our lives?’

  ‘True, but why absent so long?’

  ‘It’s going to be a long-distance relationship for quite a while I think, and we’ll only get to see him when on vacation and the occasional snatched long weekend. I must admit, though, when he missed our scheduled call time last night I did try his number. Strangely, the answer-machine was switched off, so there will be no message awaiting his return. I tried his cell phone too and that was switched off, and there was no e-mail this morning. Goodness knows where he’s flown off to at short notice? I’m sure he’ll ring as soon as possible.’ She ruffled her daughter’s hair. ‘Skip this awful mess, and come riding with me, and I’ll help you tidy your room later.’

  ‘Oh must I?’ whinged Fiona, crumpling a blue silk dress in anguished gesture of hands to heart. ‘I’m expecting a phone call from a certain young Austrian, and . . .’

  Cassie kissed her daughter’s brow. ‘I’d forgotten you’re not terribly minded toward equines at the moment.’ As Fiona returned to sorting clothes, Cassie smiled, contentment and a skip in her step as she made for the door. ‘See you later, after you’ve spent ages and ages drooling over a hot phone line.’

  Fiona scooped up a pillow and flung it at her departing mother. ‘Who is it says I love you, love you, because . . . Because what, might I ask?’

  Cassie caught the pillow and tossed it back whilst bestowing a big smile: the because was personal, but Mac knew what it meant, and that's all that mattered. 

To see other contributions to this challenge/blogfest go here.