At
that moment, realization dawned. Alex was the fire she’d been longing for – the
one who stoked desire to unimaginable heights – the one who made feeling
uninhibited as natural as the air she breathed.
From: Stella in Stilettos
Humorous, heartwarming, always-believable, clean romance! I also write romantic suspense, humorous women's fiction, and have ventured into non-fiction as well. ♥ www.authorjanromes.com
Monday, April 22, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Sometimes you have to break the rules; sometimes you have to break them wearing stilettos!
We all have unique ways of coping when life tosses us a grenade! We either catch the live munition, hurl it away and move on, or...we run for cover until the danger has passed.
In STELLA IN STILETTOS, Stella Matson chooses the latter. She runs for cover for almost a year.
This is a story about learning to trust again and lowering your fences so love can find a way in. It's also about the things you do for friendship, that you normally wouldn't even consider. (And of course, it's about doing it all in stilettos!)
Blurb:
Stella Matson has had it with handsome guys who schmooze their way into a woman's heart and walk out the door when they get a better offer. As far as she's concerned, she needs to focus on the one thing that won't leave her teary-eyed on a Friday night -- her job with the lingerie company. That plan goes awry when drop-dead gorgeous, Alex Clay, is temporarily assigned to her department. He both frustrates and excites her, turns her into a klutz, and she's afraid her heart is once again in real danger.
Alex Clay is trying to find his place in the business world. His boss seems to be grooming him for big things by giving him a taste of everything from the mailroom to the boardroom. When he does a short stint in the advertising department and meets hardheaded but intriguing, Stella Matson, she challenges his convictions and stirs an unwanted desire. He doesn't know whether to kiss her until they're both breathless, or find a new job.
Excerpt:
(In this scene, Stella and Alex bump into each other outside the office. Stella and her best friend, Trish, are enjoying a drink at their favorite bar when Stella's ex shows up and once again she wants to run for cover. Alex and his friend, Steve, enter the bar and a rescue of sorts takes place.)
"Weasel-alert," Trish said, looking past Stella to the front of the bar.
Stella sipped from her glass of wine. "What?"
Trish's animated expression sobered. "Don't look behind you."
Saying don't look was the same as saying look. Curiosity always won. Stella was on her way to turning around.
Trish stopped her with a stern look. "Seriously. Don't. It's Jace."
Almost a year and the mention of his name still induced a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Stella instinctively lowered her head as though it would throw an imaginary veil over her. "Tell me he walked back out. Lie to me. Anything."
"Wish I could."
Stella groaned quietly, but the volume-control on her pulse cranked up. She was sure the whole place could hear it thumping in her chest. The breath caught in her lungs. "He didn't see us, did he?"
Trish shook her head. "I don't think so, but it's a matter of time because he's scanning the place." She described him with some pretty strong cuss words.
Stella couldn't sit still. "Why did he pick this place?"
"Uh-oh," Trish whispered. "Breathe. He's not here for you." She wrinkled her nose. "But who knows, maybe he is."
Stella squinted. "That's calming."
"Sorry. Trying to loosen you up before he descends on us."
Jace spotted Trish and worked his way through the crowd. "Trish O'Brien."
Trish's exaggerated sneer said "Hello, scumbag" but her mouth said, "Well, if it isn't Jace Fairchild."
Stella wanted to slither under the table so she wouldn't have to make eye contact with Jace. It was a tiny booth, so the only thing fitting under the table was her feet. She felt the infidel's eyes bore into her. She didn't want to acknowledge him. Not now. Not ever. Doing so would give him the power to rip the duct tape off that was holding her heart together.
"Stella. How the heck are you?"
His voice rumbled the contents of Stella's stomach. She couldn't say his name. "I'm just peachy. Couldn't be better." She drowned the lie with a significant swig from her wine glass.
"It's been forever. Where've you been? Hiding out?"
Jackass. Of course she'd been hiding out. It was the natural thing to do when someone makes a complete fool out of you.
She wanted to karate-chop him in the neck, or at least pour hot wax on his eyebrows and then rip them off. His brainless question deserved a brainless answer. "Armadillos have four babies at a time and they're all the same sex."
Trish sputtered in her margarita.
Jace looked dumbfounded. "What?"
Trish nudged her under the table. "Oh my gosh, Stella, look who's here." She nodded toward the door.
Good ploy, Trish! Keep the diversions coming, no matter how bizarre.
"Your honey just walked in."
My honey? Okay. Not sure they could pull that one off. Stella checked her watch to strengthen the story, plus she pretended to be irked. "It's about time." She looked to where Alex Clay and Steve Benson stood brushing snow off their jackets.
Stella's eyes flew to Trish's, where she recognized an appeal to play along.
How could she? This was Alex. She couldn't play along when it involved him. Besides, she was already on emotional-overload from Jace. If she missed a cue and did something foolish, she might have a need to go back into...hiding. Grr.
She glanced at Jace who was sizing up the two men.
Trish flew out of the booth and practically ran to Alex and Steve.
Stella tried to gauge their expressions when Trish approached. What would Trish say? Ack! She wanted to guzzle her glass of wine.
"How long have you two been dating?" Jace asked.
There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that was wickedly satisfying.
She would love to spout that they'd been together for almost a year so Jace wouldn't think she wasted time grieving their breakup, but she was afraid to squander a lie that could possibly take a chomp out of her butt later. "A few months."
Alex took a step away from Trish and linked gazes with Stella.
Dang. Now what? Impetuously she blew him a kiss and then mentally thrashed herself for doing something so ridiculous.
Jace yanked her attention back to him. "Can't wait to meet the guy."
Stella swallowed hard. Soon she'd be exposed as a fraud...to both men.
Trish came back arm-in-arm with Alex and Steve. "They got held up in traffic." She and Steve slid into the booth. Alex didn't hesitate sliding in beside her.
The heat of embarrassment colored Stella's face when their gazes connected. There was something indescribable in his eyes. Anger, perhaps? Was he ticked about participating in a sham? Or were she and Trish kinking a trolling expedition?
Stella didn't have time to figure it out because Alex pulled her over to him and brushed his lips across hers.
"Sorry we're late, hon. I thought I'd be clever and take a shortcut. All I managed to do though was land us smack dab into backed-up traffic. Must've been an accident or something around Third and Broad Streets."
Stella was blown away. She smiled with complete affection; to her surprise, it wasn't an act. "No worries. We haven't been here long."
A curl fell across her cheek and Alex tucked it behind her ear. He was about to say something, but Jace coughed to nab their attention.
"So you're the new man in Stella's life." He held his hand out to shake Alex's. "I'm Jace."
Alex didn't rush to divulge his name or acknowledge the gesture. "Yes," he finally said. "Stella's my woman."
Stella widened her eyes. Trish crossed hers.
Jace nodded to Stella. "You've got a treasure there."
A treasure? Stella eyed her ex suspiciously and waited for the slam she knew would come.
Alex clasped her hand under the table and kneaded the top of it with his thumb. He looked at Stella instead of Jace. "I certainly do."
This was all for show, but his words warmed and calmed Stella.
Jace wasn't about to let her stay calm. He patted Alex on the shoulder. "I messed up when I let her go." He raised both brows. "I didn't realize what I had. She was a little inhibited, and like a fool, I went looking for someone who was open to anything. If you know what I mean."
Stella was instantly mortified and wished a sinkhole would open up and swallow her. She ventured a shocked look at Trish, who was also stunned by the brainless statement. Everyone knew inhibited meant uptight in bed.
Salty tears burned the back of her eyes. Do not cry. Do not cry. She had to repeat that over and over to hold off the tears.
"Inhibited? Are you sure you're talking about my Stella?" Alex laughed maniacally.
Trish followed his lead. So did Steve. They hooted like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
Stella still wanted to cry, but from joy. Alex, Steve and Trish had her back. They were shoring her up and it was the most wonderful thing.
Alex stopped laughing long enough to gather her in his arms. "This woman's a freak."
Stella couldn't believe how she went from being inhibited to a freak, but she couldn't be happier. She dropped her eyes to her lap to get her emotions under control. Don't look up. Don't look up. If she caught Trish's eye, the game was over.
Alex lifted her chin to make her look at him. At the same time, he brought her hand to his lips. "We try something new every day." He turned her hand over to expose her palm. After a mischievous lift of his brow, he trailed his tongue across it.
Tingles of excitement riveted to every clothed and unclothed part of her body, and an inescapable sound of pleasure worked its way out. Stella felt lightheaded.
The ruse worked. Jace was intimidated. He talked so fast his words ran together. "It was good seeing you, Stella. I have to go."
He was long gone before Stella came down to earth.
Trish put her hand up to give Stella a high-five. "That moan was priceless."
That moan was real. Stella closed her eyes for a second to stabilize. Running into her ex had been a test. She failed parts of it, others she passed with flying colors -- like knowing for certain she was completely over him. "Thanks, guys." She put her hand over her heart. "I don't know how to repay you."
"We have a debt settlement all worked out." Trish said excitedly. She turned to Steve. "By the way, I'm Trish."
Steve perked with amusement. "Steve Benson."
Stella looked from Trish to Steve to Alex, and offered a grin. "What are the terms of the agreement?"
Trish winked at Alex. "Could you fellas give us a minute?" She waited until they were at the bar before she leaned across the table. "Here's the gist of it. We're hanging out with these stud muffins for awhile."
It sounded too simple, and easily payable. "That's it?"
"Yep. You aren't exactly cozy with Alex, but I had to make a decision. Put up with Jace or put up with Alex."
"You did good, Trish. Thank you."
"And damn, Stella. Steve Benson is a hunk." Trish made a sizzling sound.
Stella turned to see where the guys were. "Be careful, Trish. He's nice, but he's also a big flirt. A real womanizer."
"You're preaching to the choir, honey. We'd be perfect for each other." Trish almost fell out of the booth while surveying Steve. "Six feet of pure hotness. Did I mention blond men are the bomb?"
"Every day since kindergarten." Stella put her hand on Trish's. "Seriously, be careful."
Trish sparkled with challenge. "Taming him will be fun."
Stella giggled at Trish's lack of fear and turned to take a good look at Alex. He was the bomb too.
Her pulse climbed a few dreamy notches and her saliva glands kicked into high-gear. She'd been too consumed by Jace's presence to realize Alex had a casual-look going on. He'd transformed himself from an upward-bound professional to a scrumptious bad-boy with tattered jeans and a slightly worn leather jacket. This less-than-perfect look made him look completely perfect, and Stella decided Trish wasn't the only one who needed to be careful.
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Thank you so much for stopping by my blog to read about Stella. I hope you have enjoyed this scene from my book.
www.authorjanromes.com
In STELLA IN STILETTOS, Stella Matson chooses the latter. She runs for cover for almost a year.
This is a story about learning to trust again and lowering your fences so love can find a way in. It's also about the things you do for friendship, that you normally wouldn't even consider. (And of course, it's about doing it all in stilettos!)
Blurb:
Stella Matson has had it with handsome guys who schmooze their way into a woman's heart and walk out the door when they get a better offer. As far as she's concerned, she needs to focus on the one thing that won't leave her teary-eyed on a Friday night -- her job with the lingerie company. That plan goes awry when drop-dead gorgeous, Alex Clay, is temporarily assigned to her department. He both frustrates and excites her, turns her into a klutz, and she's afraid her heart is once again in real danger.
Alex Clay is trying to find his place in the business world. His boss seems to be grooming him for big things by giving him a taste of everything from the mailroom to the boardroom. When he does a short stint in the advertising department and meets hardheaded but intriguing, Stella Matson, she challenges his convictions and stirs an unwanted desire. He doesn't know whether to kiss her until they're both breathless, or find a new job.
Excerpt:
(In this scene, Stella and Alex bump into each other outside the office. Stella and her best friend, Trish, are enjoying a drink at their favorite bar when Stella's ex shows up and once again she wants to run for cover. Alex and his friend, Steve, enter the bar and a rescue of sorts takes place.)
"Weasel-alert," Trish said, looking past Stella to the front of the bar.
Stella sipped from her glass of wine. "What?"
Trish's animated expression sobered. "Don't look behind you."
Saying don't look was the same as saying look. Curiosity always won. Stella was on her way to turning around.
Trish stopped her with a stern look. "Seriously. Don't. It's Jace."
Almost a year and the mention of his name still induced a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Stella instinctively lowered her head as though it would throw an imaginary veil over her. "Tell me he walked back out. Lie to me. Anything."
"Wish I could."
Stella groaned quietly, but the volume-control on her pulse cranked up. She was sure the whole place could hear it thumping in her chest. The breath caught in her lungs. "He didn't see us, did he?"
Trish shook her head. "I don't think so, but it's a matter of time because he's scanning the place." She described him with some pretty strong cuss words.
Stella couldn't sit still. "Why did he pick this place?"
"Uh-oh," Trish whispered. "Breathe. He's not here for you." She wrinkled her nose. "But who knows, maybe he is."
Stella squinted. "That's calming."
"Sorry. Trying to loosen you up before he descends on us."
Jace spotted Trish and worked his way through the crowd. "Trish O'Brien."
Trish's exaggerated sneer said "Hello, scumbag" but her mouth said, "Well, if it isn't Jace Fairchild."
Stella wanted to slither under the table so she wouldn't have to make eye contact with Jace. It was a tiny booth, so the only thing fitting under the table was her feet. She felt the infidel's eyes bore into her. She didn't want to acknowledge him. Not now. Not ever. Doing so would give him the power to rip the duct tape off that was holding her heart together.
"Stella. How the heck are you?"
His voice rumbled the contents of Stella's stomach. She couldn't say his name. "I'm just peachy. Couldn't be better." She drowned the lie with a significant swig from her wine glass.
"It's been forever. Where've you been? Hiding out?"
Jackass. Of course she'd been hiding out. It was the natural thing to do when someone makes a complete fool out of you.
She wanted to karate-chop him in the neck, or at least pour hot wax on his eyebrows and then rip them off. His brainless question deserved a brainless answer. "Armadillos have four babies at a time and they're all the same sex."
Trish sputtered in her margarita.
Jace looked dumbfounded. "What?"
Trish nudged her under the table. "Oh my gosh, Stella, look who's here." She nodded toward the door.
Good ploy, Trish! Keep the diversions coming, no matter how bizarre.
"Your honey just walked in."
My honey? Okay. Not sure they could pull that one off. Stella checked her watch to strengthen the story, plus she pretended to be irked. "It's about time." She looked to where Alex Clay and Steve Benson stood brushing snow off their jackets.
Stella's eyes flew to Trish's, where she recognized an appeal to play along.
How could she? This was Alex. She couldn't play along when it involved him. Besides, she was already on emotional-overload from Jace. If she missed a cue and did something foolish, she might have a need to go back into...hiding. Grr.
She glanced at Jace who was sizing up the two men.
Trish flew out of the booth and practically ran to Alex and Steve.
Stella tried to gauge their expressions when Trish approached. What would Trish say? Ack! She wanted to guzzle her glass of wine.
"How long have you two been dating?" Jace asked.
There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that was wickedly satisfying.
She would love to spout that they'd been together for almost a year so Jace wouldn't think she wasted time grieving their breakup, but she was afraid to squander a lie that could possibly take a chomp out of her butt later. "A few months."
Alex took a step away from Trish and linked gazes with Stella.
Dang. Now what? Impetuously she blew him a kiss and then mentally thrashed herself for doing something so ridiculous.
Jace yanked her attention back to him. "Can't wait to meet the guy."
Stella swallowed hard. Soon she'd be exposed as a fraud...to both men.
Trish came back arm-in-arm with Alex and Steve. "They got held up in traffic." She and Steve slid into the booth. Alex didn't hesitate sliding in beside her.
The heat of embarrassment colored Stella's face when their gazes connected. There was something indescribable in his eyes. Anger, perhaps? Was he ticked about participating in a sham? Or were she and Trish kinking a trolling expedition?
Stella didn't have time to figure it out because Alex pulled her over to him and brushed his lips across hers.
"Sorry we're late, hon. I thought I'd be clever and take a shortcut. All I managed to do though was land us smack dab into backed-up traffic. Must've been an accident or something around Third and Broad Streets."
Stella was blown away. She smiled with complete affection; to her surprise, it wasn't an act. "No worries. We haven't been here long."
A curl fell across her cheek and Alex tucked it behind her ear. He was about to say something, but Jace coughed to nab their attention.
"So you're the new man in Stella's life." He held his hand out to shake Alex's. "I'm Jace."
Alex didn't rush to divulge his name or acknowledge the gesture. "Yes," he finally said. "Stella's my woman."
Stella widened her eyes. Trish crossed hers.
Jace nodded to Stella. "You've got a treasure there."
A treasure? Stella eyed her ex suspiciously and waited for the slam she knew would come.
Alex clasped her hand under the table and kneaded the top of it with his thumb. He looked at Stella instead of Jace. "I certainly do."
This was all for show, but his words warmed and calmed Stella.
Jace wasn't about to let her stay calm. He patted Alex on the shoulder. "I messed up when I let her go." He raised both brows. "I didn't realize what I had. She was a little inhibited, and like a fool, I went looking for someone who was open to anything. If you know what I mean."
Stella was instantly mortified and wished a sinkhole would open up and swallow her. She ventured a shocked look at Trish, who was also stunned by the brainless statement. Everyone knew inhibited meant uptight in bed.
Salty tears burned the back of her eyes. Do not cry. Do not cry. She had to repeat that over and over to hold off the tears.
"Inhibited? Are you sure you're talking about my Stella?" Alex laughed maniacally.
Trish followed his lead. So did Steve. They hooted like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
Stella still wanted to cry, but from joy. Alex, Steve and Trish had her back. They were shoring her up and it was the most wonderful thing.
Alex stopped laughing long enough to gather her in his arms. "This woman's a freak."
Stella couldn't believe how she went from being inhibited to a freak, but she couldn't be happier. She dropped her eyes to her lap to get her emotions under control. Don't look up. Don't look up. If she caught Trish's eye, the game was over.
Alex lifted her chin to make her look at him. At the same time, he brought her hand to his lips. "We try something new every day." He turned her hand over to expose her palm. After a mischievous lift of his brow, he trailed his tongue across it.
Tingles of excitement riveted to every clothed and unclothed part of her body, and an inescapable sound of pleasure worked its way out. Stella felt lightheaded.
The ruse worked. Jace was intimidated. He talked so fast his words ran together. "It was good seeing you, Stella. I have to go."
He was long gone before Stella came down to earth.
Trish put her hand up to give Stella a high-five. "That moan was priceless."
That moan was real. Stella closed her eyes for a second to stabilize. Running into her ex had been a test. She failed parts of it, others she passed with flying colors -- like knowing for certain she was completely over him. "Thanks, guys." She put her hand over her heart. "I don't know how to repay you."
"We have a debt settlement all worked out." Trish said excitedly. She turned to Steve. "By the way, I'm Trish."
Steve perked with amusement. "Steve Benson."
Stella looked from Trish to Steve to Alex, and offered a grin. "What are the terms of the agreement?"
Trish winked at Alex. "Could you fellas give us a minute?" She waited until they were at the bar before she leaned across the table. "Here's the gist of it. We're hanging out with these stud muffins for awhile."
It sounded too simple, and easily payable. "That's it?"
"Yep. You aren't exactly cozy with Alex, but I had to make a decision. Put up with Jace or put up with Alex."
"You did good, Trish. Thank you."
"And damn, Stella. Steve Benson is a hunk." Trish made a sizzling sound.
Stella turned to see where the guys were. "Be careful, Trish. He's nice, but he's also a big flirt. A real womanizer."
"You're preaching to the choir, honey. We'd be perfect for each other." Trish almost fell out of the booth while surveying Steve. "Six feet of pure hotness. Did I mention blond men are the bomb?"
"Every day since kindergarten." Stella put her hand on Trish's. "Seriously, be careful."
Trish sparkled with challenge. "Taming him will be fun."
Stella giggled at Trish's lack of fear and turned to take a good look at Alex. He was the bomb too.
Her pulse climbed a few dreamy notches and her saliva glands kicked into high-gear. She'd been too consumed by Jace's presence to realize Alex had a casual-look going on. He'd transformed himself from an upward-bound professional to a scrumptious bad-boy with tattered jeans and a slightly worn leather jacket. This less-than-perfect look made him look completely perfect, and Stella decided Trish wasn't the only one who needed to be careful.
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(The folder that contains the rough outline, scraps of paper with juicy tidbits and ideas, sticky notes and everything that eventually became, Stella in Stilettos!)Thank you so much for stopping by my blog to read about Stella. I hope you have enjoyed this scene from my book.
www.authorjanromes.com
Friday, April 5, 2013
I Bet You Didn't Know...
So often we only show the business-side of us, concentrating mostly on promotion and marketing our books. I thought it would be fun to do a 'tag-it' blog where we reveal our personal side. Since I'm initiating this type of tag-you're-it communication, I thought I would do the first one about me so everyone knows how it goes!
(Yep! It's me!)
I bet you didn't know...
1.) That I have an aversion to sweet potatoes. In some of my stories, my characters do too. *grins* (Official apology to those folks who grow sweet potatoes for a living -- it's nothing personal about your fine crop. Just saying!)
2.) I once wrote lyrics for John Mellencamp. (He just wasn't aware of it! ha ha)
3.) Big city driving turns me into a basket-case.
4.) Unlike many people, I love watching commercials. (I currently laugh my butt off at the AT & T commercials with Beck Beckett and the little kids; most especially the one where the little girl talks about werewolves. LOL!)
5.) Neil Diamond was my husband in another life. (He probably doesn't know it though. If he's reading this blog -- as many celebs do *cough* -- he is probably saying..."I thought she looked familiar"!!) Just kidding folks! My heart belongs to Bill!
6.) I'm an NCIS fanatic!
7.) I think intelligence and a sense of humor are sexy!
8.) I'm a dancing fool! (I'm not good at it, but it doesn't stop me. LOL!)
9.) I've memorized the capital of each state. (I obviously need to get a life!)
10.) My nickname used to be .... (purposely omitted because it's just too dorky. You didn't really think I'd tell you what it was, did you? Okay, you bent my arm...it was 'dink'! Told ya it was dorky.)
11.) I blush way too easily! Gah.
12.) I'm an eternal optimist! Always try to look on the bright side. View tomorrow as a fresh start.
(Me and daughter, Kelly, at a writer's conference)
I'm tagging fellow authors to reveal a little about themselves: (just click on their name to go to their blog or website)
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Stella in Stilettos - cover reveal!
I am overjoyed to share the cover art for my forthcoming novel,
Stella in Stilettos
This awesome cover was designed by Deborah with Tugboat Design
(www.tugboatdesign.net)
Stella in Stilettos
This awesome cover was designed by Deborah with Tugboat Design
(www.tugboatdesign.net)
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Romance In The Countryside!
ROMANCE IN THE COUNTRYSIDE!
Surrounded by corn and soybean fields, creeks and ponds, romance is alive and well in the countryside. One of the definitions of romance is: to court or woo. Most of us are quick to picture someone trying to win the heart of another. This morning, as I started my day with wide open spaces, sunshine and blue skies, I thought about romance from a different angle -- country living, for me, is a nonstop romance with the earth. I've been wooed by the sounds of bull frogs and the blooms of pumpkins, corn stalks and breathtaking sunsets.In recent years I've developed a fondness for gardening. While I'm no expert by any stretch of the imagination, I learn something new every year; how to be kind to the soil to keep it healthy, what plants do better in our neck of the woods, organic pest control for crawling and hopping creatures, and so much more. My garden and I have a special relationship -- a love affair to be nurtured with time and patience. Watching the sunflowers reach for the sky and the watermelons ripen on the vine make me smile, but when my three lovely granddaughters wander through my garden and ask, 'Grandma, what's this?' it warms my heart.
I would like to spout that I have country blood flowing through my veins as a result of a long lineage of farm folks, but I can't make that claim. No, I grew up in town but I think I've always had the heart of a country girl. In 1978, my husband and I moved to the outskirts of town, and with each passing day my affection for the rural community grows.
When the miracle of the seasons change and I am surrounded by inches of snow, I spend my time at the computer writing contemporary romance. But I long for the return of warm days so I can open my windows to let in the freshness known only to those of us living in the country and to renew my romance with an amazing plot of ground that has my heart.
I write contemporary romance with sharp, witty characters who give as good as they get. If you would like to follow my writing journey or check out my books:Website: www.authorjanromes.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JanRomes
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.romes.5
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jan-Romes/e/B005OMZICY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Amy Gregory - author of the Racing to Love series!
Today I'd like to welcome Amy Gregory to my blog. She's a fun, vivacious personality who also happens to be a remarkable author!
Amy Gregory leads an incredibly active lifestyle in Kansas with her husband and their three fantastic kids who keep them running in three very different directions. When she's not rushing her oldest daughter to tumbling, her youngest daughter to culinary lessons, or sitting track-side watching her son race motocross, she's taking the few minutes in between to scribble the next pages in her Racing to Love series.
When asked, "When do you have time to write?" Amy giggles. "In bits and pieces," she says.
Amy is known for her snarky, off the cuff sense of humor, which you'll find shining through in the characters she's created. Her debut novel, Racing to Love, Carter's Treasure, released in June, 2012, and Racing to Love, Jesse's Soul, released in December, 2012.
I've spent my whole life trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and now I've finally found it. ~ Amy Gregory
Jesse Frost lived the life most men would kill for. Fast bikes, fame, money and good looks. However, he wasn't a man that gave as much thought to that as most. Jesse was just an easy-going guy from a small speck of a town in Texas, a guy that worked hard for everything he had achieved in life. When everything else seemed to go his way, it was women that left him disheartened, and finding the right one always seemed to be just out of his grasp. After a run-in with his high-school crush left him even more confused and emptier than ever before, he had decided he would never find the type of love his best friend Carter had with Molly.
Emery Kincaid had a last name that was revered in their world. Born into a world of gas, grease and speed, she was a woman in a man's world, but she grew up more comfortable with a wrench in her hand than a doll. Irish through and through, she has the temper and sass to boot, and a reputation that precedes her. Determined to carry on her family's legacy, despite the chromosomes she was born with, she works harder than any man she's come across and never backs down. However, things aren't always as they seem. Emery had remained strong because she's had no other choice, but the pain she masks runs deep and hiding it is the only way she can survive.
Thrown together by circumstance, and forced to be in each other's space day in and day out, sparks start to fly -- from chemistry and the brakes Emery desperately tries to throw on. Without a doubt in his mind, Jesse knows he has finally found her, but the girl that stole his heart has a stubborn streak a country mile wide.
What Emery doesn't realize about Jesse is that he's a competitive guy, by nature and by profession, and he has no intention of letting her slip through his fingers. Not when she is the first woman to understand him, to appreciate his dedication to his career, and well, the fact that she's beautiful is icing on the cake in his mind. It is what Jesse doesn't know that could break his gentle heart. Hiding her true feelings for him is the only way for Emery to protect him, and in turn -- herself. She barely made it out the first time. If she lets Jesse in and he walks away, that's a risk her heart can't take.
You can find/follow Amy at:
Website: www.amygregory548.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmyGregory548
Racing to Love, Jesse's Soul can be found on:
Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/racing-to-love-jesses-soul-amy-gregory/1114052796?ean=2940016165417
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Cynthia Meyers-Hanson: Her publishing story & special highlights about the S.H.E. Anthology
Today I'd like to welcome a very special guest to my blog, Cynthia Hanson - author of Christian and Inspirational/nonfiction and fiction. She's going to share her writing and publishing journey, and also talk about the S.H.E. Anthology (A very special compilation - royalities will help charities involved in grief counseling or with mental health issues - especially for children therapies for the types of traumas witnessing massacres produce).
Welcome, Cynthia!
Thanks for having me, Jan.
I work for GOD! I write many nonfictions that are really just scribing the history of HIS Stories. My tales are Christian based; at least one of those books points directly to HEAVEN. I explain how bad situations and good ones have the potential to bring hope and love along with stronger faith.
How did my writing adventure start? How do I do PR? How do I help others including other nonfiction authors? What is my latest effort?
My early writing HISTORY comes first. In high school, with a math strong suit, I helped out in the library. At that time, I admired anyone that could write more than a five page term paper about science, history, math or some fact based subject. I was only good at nonfiction stories and joined the school's newspaper team. With my skills for logic, I went on to the telecommunications industry via computer programming, which was my college major. Until age 35, I avoided long winded writing until God handed me a book to scribe for HIM entitled Mom's on the Roof and I Can't Get Her Down. Many years later, God came knocking while pointing out that some of the prophecy mom and HE gave me and I copyrighted in 1994 was unfolding in the new millenium. In short, the account of mom's miraculous encounters with Heaven, angels, and God was proving itself to be true even without my help.
At almost the same time, people asked about Stacey. That girl was orphaned by her parents' deaths. When she was old enough to tell her story, she asked me to help her write Stacey's Song. In about that same moment in HIS story, friends and family asked if I'd write the story of our neighborhood's encounter with a curse; so I asked some of The Evans Terrace Girls to decide what might be said about their club's reaction to many deaths and their community's grief. Soon after those three books were written, other people asked me to co-author or direct their nonfictions. That writing with others kept me busy for a few years.
A book without a reader is like a day without sunshine. In the beginning, we sold or gifted copies of those books to friends or local mourners. Soon, I began trying to find a larger audience. Nonfiction branding is much harder than people think; biographies of the non-famous can be hard to sell. I'm sure that is why many mainstream publishers avoid those book genres - until they go viral. While doing that facet of publishing, I always keep in mind that I need to differentiate myself and books - especially due to the explosion of eBooks and indie authors. What makes my witness in books unique starts with my sense of humor; I can make light of hideous situations and yet stay real and truthful about the harshness of those realities. My ability to see and convey the light keeps me going - which is remarkable since I was born blind; landmark eye surgery and tenacity got me to today. I chronicled part of that inspirational tale in my nonfiction entitled The Vision.
Meanwhile, I rarely submit pieces for anthologies announced online or through writer's societies because their editors are usually looking for fictional short stories or poetry. Recently a random invite happened; someone offered to add one of my stories or essays to their anthology helping Newtown, Connecticut. I heard about the massacre in their elementary school and submitted a story that I co-authored. That tale was steered and illustrated by my grandchild when she was five; she is now six. I thought her empowerment storybook might help the struggling people of Newtown and elsewhere. However, the editors rejected my entry because they wanted poetry and prose; they compiled adult reading level stories about how it might feel to be a Newtown resident.
I appreciated the editors' candor. However, I was amazed the compilers of that anthology didn't realize what the children (and adults) of Sandy Hook Elementary might really need to go forward. I thought that town might enjoy rhetoric from kindred spirits. Due to fears and anxieties, I felt those kids and folks might feel less alienated and alone if they were shown the light at the end of their tunnels. I wanted to find a way to empower those children while revealing to them a HOPE that things can and do get better. I felt bystanders including health care professionals might enjoy those types of stories too. After pondering the anthology rejection, I woke up one day as God illuminated my next step. Thinking of three books that I had partial copyrights to, I immediately had the title of an anthology in mind. I began compiling that book.
By the way, the S.H.E. Anthology is NOT a romance anthology but it was written by all females. In this book, the girls recollected traumas, mostly related to death, that they faced while in elementary school. Their stories reveal their path out of mourning along with many minor miracles that they encountered. Their tales of hope and inspiration are true accounts from those children turned authors. One writer and illustrator is only six; Thai wanted to be a part of empowering children to survive harsh things in life, so her piece is story number three in this compilation.
The abbreviation 'S.H.E.' also refers to Sandy Hook Elementary. Isn't God the best at setting up coincidences? This book is meant to empower Newtown as well as others that read it. We hope that this anthology also sheds some new light on grief recovery in the minds of teachers, mental health professionals, and adults handling major life changes. The compilation's royalties will help charities involved in grief counseling or with mental health issues - especially for children therapies for the types of trauma witnessing massacres produce. For example, one local group 'New Hope for Kids' (Orlando) will get some of the profits from this compilation because the group that started this organization helped Stacey over 20 years ago.
Speaking of the child, in one part of this anthology, there's great insight into being the victim of death and childhood loss. Stacey's Song is an intimate look at a ten year old girl's personal story about the results of her mother's death due to cancer. She also deals with the aftermath of her dad's subsequent suicide. Obviously, tragedies such as Sandy Hook Massacre touch home with her. In her book contained in this anthology, the young girl talks candidly and inspirationally about surmounting her PTSD. Her honesty through writing is only surpassed by the miracles and guidance from those around her including God. The excerpt that follows reveals how God taps into this young girl's anger and grief to show her hope and HIS love as HE answers her naive childhood prayer.
Hail, What's Next?
...
Later in another conversation, Cindy told me, "There are a ton of reasons why you need to live. First, you haven't even seen all the world has to share with you. There are some really beautiful places left to visit.
...
"I get two weeks vacation in December. We can drive into the mountains and find snow for the holidays."
...
(Her child) Jenny was hospitalized after repeated infections. Her tonsils needed to be removed, and the promised trip was postponed.
...
"I wish it would snow here!" My response arrived.
"Get real! It rarely snows in Central Florida. If it does, it falls in January and never hits the ground. It melts on the way. It sometimes falls just north of us and stays a few hours but nothing close to snowman weather. We can drive to see snow next winter, but we are not flying anywhere this vacation."
"I'm going to pray for snow within driving distance of our house. I am going to ask for it now." My style less angry these days converted to belligerent.
"Pray away! But, it isn't possible," she added as the other car passengers giggled. At age seven and nine, they realized I could be unreasonable at times.
...
The next day, the front page of the local newspaper pictured the hail storm that happened just south of our home. Hail stones piled into drifts so high that it appeared to have snowed in Florida...
Since Stacey didn't see that version of snow in person, she kept praying for snow. What happened next? Read her full story in Stacey's Song or in the S.H.E. Anthology.
Also in that anthology, The Evans Terrace Girls give their account of what happened when 7 or more parents died within a year or 2 of each other in a small subdivision of about 110 homes. People started saying their land was CURSED. The children heard those rumors about their subdivision and were scared to death. When a neighbor lost her dad to a blood clot after surgery, the kids felt the need to help. When one of the girls heard the rumor that the mourning family ran out of milk, she set up a traditional solution or lemondade stand. That day, other angels or young children arrived; many of those neighbor kids ran door to door selling half glasses of hot lemondae. They raised enough quarters to buy milk and other perishables. More importantly, they formed a group that became a club and led their neighborhood out of grief. Find out how by reading their story; an excerpt follows.
'Tis The Season
...
One of the boys was just two weeks old and the other was eighteen months when their single mother died in her apartment of an epileptic seizure. These two miracles survived two days with their deceased mother before authorities found them. Their aunt's family was not well to do but had inherited two cribs for the boys. However, just near Christmas, they needed real beds for these toddlers.
...
There were donations of new jewelry and Christmas items to raffle. We charged a dollar a ticket. On our little table sat our flyer of community services completed and goals to finish this year.
As one guest read the document, she handed us a five-dollar bill whispering to my mother, "What is their goal?"
"At least one bed," she responded.
"Well, good luck. They probably won't even raise enough for a mattress," this woman added.
"I've seen them sell one hundred and seventy one dollars' worth of lemonade and still have over half the original gallon. I bet they can get this bed," my mother defended.
"Good luck," the guest reiterated.
"I believe in miracles," Mom observed smugly. "'Tis the season!"
...
The stranger stopped our movement back to our vehicles. "I'll let you have both beds for two hundred dollars but only if you can pick them up by tomorrow."
"Sold!" We all screamed as Laura and Mom flinched. The club was sixty dollars from reality.
...
Did the girls find the cash? What other minor miracles happened when these angels joined forces with others to make wishes come true? Read The Evans Terrace Girls or their section in the S.H.E. Anthology.
By the way, I'm offering an eBook copy of the S.H.E. Anthology to anyone reading this blog. Use the link provided: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/278511 . The promotional price will come up as $0.00 once you place the coupon code SZ68X in the box on that site's ordering page. This coupon expires on February 14, 2013 - the day of love. Please, leave favorable reviews if you freely download this book. Plus, feel free to share the eBook data. We hope you'll love the S.H.E. Anthology enough to buy copies of this book in paperback format for others to enjoy or at least be kind enough to leave a review. The paperback versions comes in black and white, and color.
Amazon -
Black and white version:
Thanks for having me, Jan.
I work for GOD! I write many nonfictions that are really just scribing the history of HIS Stories. My tales are Christian based; at least one of those books points directly to HEAVEN. I explain how bad situations and good ones have the potential to bring hope and love along with stronger faith.
How did my writing adventure start? How do I do PR? How do I help others including other nonfiction authors? What is my latest effort?
My early writing HISTORY comes first. In high school, with a math strong suit, I helped out in the library. At that time, I admired anyone that could write more than a five page term paper about science, history, math or some fact based subject. I was only good at nonfiction stories and joined the school's newspaper team. With my skills for logic, I went on to the telecommunications industry via computer programming, which was my college major. Until age 35, I avoided long winded writing until God handed me a book to scribe for HIM entitled Mom's on the Roof and I Can't Get Her Down. Many years later, God came knocking while pointing out that some of the prophecy mom and HE gave me and I copyrighted in 1994 was unfolding in the new millenium. In short, the account of mom's miraculous encounters with Heaven, angels, and God was proving itself to be true even without my help.
At almost the same time, people asked about Stacey. That girl was orphaned by her parents' deaths. When she was old enough to tell her story, she asked me to help her write Stacey's Song. In about that same moment in HIS story, friends and family asked if I'd write the story of our neighborhood's encounter with a curse; so I asked some of The Evans Terrace Girls to decide what might be said about their club's reaction to many deaths and their community's grief. Soon after those three books were written, other people asked me to co-author or direct their nonfictions. That writing with others kept me busy for a few years.
A book without a reader is like a day without sunshine. In the beginning, we sold or gifted copies of those books to friends or local mourners. Soon, I began trying to find a larger audience. Nonfiction branding is much harder than people think; biographies of the non-famous can be hard to sell. I'm sure that is why many mainstream publishers avoid those book genres - until they go viral. While doing that facet of publishing, I always keep in mind that I need to differentiate myself and books - especially due to the explosion of eBooks and indie authors. What makes my witness in books unique starts with my sense of humor; I can make light of hideous situations and yet stay real and truthful about the harshness of those realities. My ability to see and convey the light keeps me going - which is remarkable since I was born blind; landmark eye surgery and tenacity got me to today. I chronicled part of that inspirational tale in my nonfiction entitled The Vision.
Meanwhile, I rarely submit pieces for anthologies announced online or through writer's societies because their editors are usually looking for fictional short stories or poetry. Recently a random invite happened; someone offered to add one of my stories or essays to their anthology helping Newtown, Connecticut. I heard about the massacre in their elementary school and submitted a story that I co-authored. That tale was steered and illustrated by my grandchild when she was five; she is now six. I thought her empowerment storybook might help the struggling people of Newtown and elsewhere. However, the editors rejected my entry because they wanted poetry and prose; they compiled adult reading level stories about how it might feel to be a Newtown resident.
I appreciated the editors' candor. However, I was amazed the compilers of that anthology didn't realize what the children (and adults) of Sandy Hook Elementary might really need to go forward. I thought that town might enjoy rhetoric from kindred spirits. Due to fears and anxieties, I felt those kids and folks might feel less alienated and alone if they were shown the light at the end of their tunnels. I wanted to find a way to empower those children while revealing to them a HOPE that things can and do get better. I felt bystanders including health care professionals might enjoy those types of stories too. After pondering the anthology rejection, I woke up one day as God illuminated my next step. Thinking of three books that I had partial copyrights to, I immediately had the title of an anthology in mind. I began compiling that book.
By the way, the S.H.E. Anthology is NOT a romance anthology but it was written by all females. In this book, the girls recollected traumas, mostly related to death, that they faced while in elementary school. Their stories reveal their path out of mourning along with many minor miracles that they encountered. Their tales of hope and inspiration are true accounts from those children turned authors. One writer and illustrator is only six; Thai wanted to be a part of empowering children to survive harsh things in life, so her piece is story number three in this compilation.
The abbreviation 'S.H.E.' also refers to Sandy Hook Elementary. Isn't God the best at setting up coincidences? This book is meant to empower Newtown as well as others that read it. We hope that this anthology also sheds some new light on grief recovery in the minds of teachers, mental health professionals, and adults handling major life changes. The compilation's royalties will help charities involved in grief counseling or with mental health issues - especially for children therapies for the types of trauma witnessing massacres produce. For example, one local group 'New Hope for Kids' (Orlando) will get some of the profits from this compilation because the group that started this organization helped Stacey over 20 years ago.
Speaking of the child, in one part of this anthology, there's great insight into being the victim of death and childhood loss. Stacey's Song is an intimate look at a ten year old girl's personal story about the results of her mother's death due to cancer. She also deals with the aftermath of her dad's subsequent suicide. Obviously, tragedies such as Sandy Hook Massacre touch home with her. In her book contained in this anthology, the young girl talks candidly and inspirationally about surmounting her PTSD. Her honesty through writing is only surpassed by the miracles and guidance from those around her including God. The excerpt that follows reveals how God taps into this young girl's anger and grief to show her hope and HIS love as HE answers her naive childhood prayer.
Hail, What's Next?
...
Later in another conversation, Cindy told me, "There are a ton of reasons why you need to live. First, you haven't even seen all the world has to share with you. There are some really beautiful places left to visit.
...
"I get two weeks vacation in December. We can drive into the mountains and find snow for the holidays."
...
(Her child) Jenny was hospitalized after repeated infections. Her tonsils needed to be removed, and the promised trip was postponed.
...
"I wish it would snow here!" My response arrived.
"Get real! It rarely snows in Central Florida. If it does, it falls in January and never hits the ground. It melts on the way. It sometimes falls just north of us and stays a few hours but nothing close to snowman weather. We can drive to see snow next winter, but we are not flying anywhere this vacation."
"I'm going to pray for snow within driving distance of our house. I am going to ask for it now." My style less angry these days converted to belligerent.
"Pray away! But, it isn't possible," she added as the other car passengers giggled. At age seven and nine, they realized I could be unreasonable at times.
...
The next day, the front page of the local newspaper pictured the hail storm that happened just south of our home. Hail stones piled into drifts so high that it appeared to have snowed in Florida...
Since Stacey didn't see that version of snow in person, she kept praying for snow. What happened next? Read her full story in Stacey's Song or in the S.H.E. Anthology.
Also in that anthology, The Evans Terrace Girls give their account of what happened when 7 or more parents died within a year or 2 of each other in a small subdivision of about 110 homes. People started saying their land was CURSED. The children heard those rumors about their subdivision and were scared to death. When a neighbor lost her dad to a blood clot after surgery, the kids felt the need to help. When one of the girls heard the rumor that the mourning family ran out of milk, she set up a traditional solution or lemondade stand. That day, other angels or young children arrived; many of those neighbor kids ran door to door selling half glasses of hot lemondae. They raised enough quarters to buy milk and other perishables. More importantly, they formed a group that became a club and led their neighborhood out of grief. Find out how by reading their story; an excerpt follows.
'Tis The Season
...
One of the boys was just two weeks old and the other was eighteen months when their single mother died in her apartment of an epileptic seizure. These two miracles survived two days with their deceased mother before authorities found them. Their aunt's family was not well to do but had inherited two cribs for the boys. However, just near Christmas, they needed real beds for these toddlers.
...
There were donations of new jewelry and Christmas items to raffle. We charged a dollar a ticket. On our little table sat our flyer of community services completed and goals to finish this year.
As one guest read the document, she handed us a five-dollar bill whispering to my mother, "What is their goal?"
"At least one bed," she responded.
"Well, good luck. They probably won't even raise enough for a mattress," this woman added.
"I've seen them sell one hundred and seventy one dollars' worth of lemonade and still have over half the original gallon. I bet they can get this bed," my mother defended.
"Good luck," the guest reiterated.
"I believe in miracles," Mom observed smugly. "'Tis the season!"
...
The stranger stopped our movement back to our vehicles. "I'll let you have both beds for two hundred dollars but only if you can pick them up by tomorrow."
"Sold!" We all screamed as Laura and Mom flinched. The club was sixty dollars from reality.
...
Did the girls find the cash? What other minor miracles happened when these angels joined forces with others to make wishes come true? Read The Evans Terrace Girls or their section in the S.H.E. Anthology.
By the way, I'm offering an eBook copy of the S.H.E. Anthology to anyone reading this blog. Use the link provided: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/278511 . The promotional price will come up as $0.00 once you place the coupon code SZ68X in the box on that site's ordering page. This coupon expires on February 14, 2013 - the day of love. Please, leave favorable reviews if you freely download this book. Plus, feel free to share the eBook data. We hope you'll love the S.H.E. Anthology enough to buy copies of this book in paperback format for others to enjoy or at least be kind enough to leave a review. The paperback versions comes in black and white, and color.
Amazon -
Black and white version:
Color version:
So come on, buy to be inspired and help grieving children. It's a WIN-WIN.
** A copy of this anthology went to Newtown's public library as well.
Author's bio:
My favorite question during book interviews is: How did you get started writing? The short answer is that in 1991 my mother died. Some people dream of being authors; my writing began as what could be described as a nightmare! However - as she died, mom experienced what would be called a Christian Near Death Experience (NDE) or miracle. My witness became Mom's on the Roof and I can't Get Her Down. After that, I have co-authored or compiled other Divine and inspirational tales; they range from faith healing to other Near Death journeys. To date, my Christian books total seven. Meanwhile, I have ghostwritten novels including The Vision, which is based on a true story of overcoming blindness, bipolar dysfunction, and living 'The Golden Rule'. Also, I've produced four picture books for and with children. Finally, I wrote one historical, YA novelette. I use my real name, Cynthia Meyers-Hanson on nonfictions as well as children's literature. My pen name, Sydney S. Song is reserved for my fibs or novels. You can find out more about my writing on my author webpage which is at: http://mchanson714.weebly.com/ and you can follow my author blog indexed there too.
I'm married with children and foster children. I also have two grandchildren under the age of seven; they are Stacey's girls. Their last name translates into SNOW. When Thai was born, I joked that we found a little snow in Florida in the summertime, too!
Other contact information:
Email -- mchanson714@yahoo.com
Twitter -- www.twitter.com/mchanson714
Facebook -- www.facebook.com/meyershanson
My generic blog -- http://mchanson714.blogspot.com
My Smashwords generic link to all my eBooks is -- (they distribute to Sony, iBooks, etc.)
Amazon's generic link to all my Kindles and paperbacks --
My generic YouTube link to find my book trailers is --
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