All That Charm: Excerpt


Hi, everyone, and thanks to Toni for letting me come give y’all a glimpse into my newest baby, uh, I mean book, All That Charm. It’s funny how our books really feel like our children. We create, nurture, mold, cut, paste, worry, cry a few tears and then…send them off into an unknown future.

This is really hitting home with me here lately as I have a senior about to graduate high school. My life has been an emotional rollercoaster of ups, down, twisty turns and the threat of vomit. LOL. Change has been in the air for me and I’m learning to embrace it.

All That Charm marks my very first splash into the indie world. I wrote the book with the plan to publish it with my current publisher, but with the publishing world as it is, fate handed me a new opportunity with Montlake Publishing and I had Eden’s book in my hands with nothing to do but publish it myself. I’ve learned so much about how talented, dedicated and slightly crazy you have to be to be an indie author. It’s tons of work but so fulfilling. Just days ago I got my final files from my freelance editor and the book cover from the designer. I had to put it all together like a quilt and upload it for readers to buy on May 2nd. It was thrilling and scary. But mostly thrilling. I hope you’ll take the opportunity to check out this new book in the Morning Glory series. I think you’ll love visiting New Orleans and watching Eden get her chance in the spotlight (literally). Time to fall in love with Eden, a fun speakeasy, Bourbon Street and a sexy single dad. Check out this excerpt which introduces you to Gatsby’s, the hottest spot on Bourbon Street:



Just as Eden moved toward the booth, a cab stopped and three laughing women in club clothes spilled out. They looked primed for a night on the town, and as soon as one paid the driver, they all three crowded into the phone booth and pulled the door closed. Eden couldn’t see what they were doing, but seconds later they disappeared.

It was serious Hogwarts stuff.

Looking left then right as if she were about to do something illegal, Eden walked to the booth. The metal edging was cold from the damp night and the glass squeaked as she pulled the door open and stepped inside.

“This is so weird,” she whispered to herself, nerves jangling as she lifted the receiver. Probably should have used some hand sanitizer or something. All those people lifting and dialing. She pressed the number and held her breath. Immediately to her left, a door slid open, elevator style.

Eden stepped inside and entered another world.

The alcove was much like a foyer in a fancy home. Except there was black-and-white honeycomb tile, a crystal chandelier, and a smartly dressed woman sitting behind a high desk. She had a sexy librarian look with cat-eyed glasses and very red lipstick. Her neatly secured auburn hair reminded Eden of Rosemary.

“May I help you?” she asked, perfect eyebrows lifted in question.

“Hi, I’m Eden Voorhees. Here to see Frenchie.”

The woman smiled. “One does not merely see Frenchie, but she told me you’d be stopping by tonight. A prospect for ensemble, huh?” The woman’s eyes moved over Eden in an assessing way. Eden staunched her need to wipe her hands on her jeans. “Follow me. I don’t have a table free, but the stools at the bar provide great viewing. You’re in luck because Sista Shayla is about to go on.”

Eden had no clue who Sista Shayla was, but she delivered a smile. “Awesome.”

Redhead pressed a button. “I’m Marla, by the way. I’m one of the hostesses with the mostesses.” A panel slid open, and a fusion of jazz and hip-hop music welcomed Eden to Gatsby’s.

Eden wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been what was revealed to her through the entrance.

Stepping through time.

The room seemed to be divided into three sections with an ornate rococo-style bar on either side of a huge warehouse space. Round tabletops with ivory tablecloths and flickering candles dominated the main part of the room, and a large dance floor stretched before the seating area all the way to a huge stage. An orchestra pit with a horn section sat on one side of the stage and a platform with a Fazioli grand piano on the adjoining. The honeycomb tile continued into the space, and a gargantuan chandelier hung from a rough-hewn wooden beam. It was as if Glenn Dorsey had a baby with a hipster. Art Deco, midcentury modern, and French Regency exploded and somehow looked . . . perfect.

“Wow,” Eden breathed.

“I know, right?” Marla said with a ghost of a smile. “It’s the usual reaction.”


Find it:


A dying friend’s gift delivers a chance to start over…

With Morning Glory in her rearview mirror, Eden Voorhees heads to New Orleans to pursue the dream she put on hold while caring for her disabled mother. But in the Big Easy, she finds a roach-infested apartment, a non-existent job and a dwindling bank account. Refusing to slink home and admit defeat, she accepts a part-time caregiver position to keep her theatre dreams alive.

Nick Zeringue juggles his restaurant empire with the demands of a special needs daughter. Devastated after his wife leaves him, he throws his energies into making his growing restaurants the best the nation. When his daughter’s nanny quits, he replaces her with the quiet and alluring Eden. Attraction sizzles between them, but Nick won’t risk another broken heart for someone who may not stick around.

Eden has a plan for her life and it doesn’t include a man…at least not yet. Then her hidden identity as cabaret singer Lulu LaRue drops her (literally) into her boss’s lap, making her rethink what she’s always wanted. And when the chance to be on Broadway tap dances her way, Eden must decide – does she want love or fame?

Fall in love with Bourbon Street, a thrilling speakeasy…and Eden’s chance for happily ever after.


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Making Waves: Review

Making Waves_ecard_pull quote 5_on sale

Making Waves, the first Beach Lane book by Laura Moore, is a fall/winter book.  It would have been weird to read in spring, except I live in the Rockies and spring often means snowy/rainy gloomy weather.  The timing worked out rather perfectly in that respect.  The season reflects the initial impression of Max Carr, hedge fund billionaire that has just purchased Dakota Hale’s family home and hires her to remodel it.  To say Dakota’s relationship with her family is strained is an understatement.  Her mother is self-absorbed; her grandparents and aunt downright hostile.  Her willingness to remodel the family home certainly doesn’t help matters.

This is really Dakota’s book, though a significant portion of her growth comes from her interactions with Max.  Max himself is not unchanged by their relationship.  They quickly find they are better together than they are apart, though the lesson takes a while to sink in.

I really enjoyed this book.  At times I felt like I could know some of the secondary characters better, but that didn’t diminish my love for Dakota and Max.  This is a great read for a hot cup of tea and a warm fire.  I am eagerly awaiting the next book in the series.



~☆New Release☆~ Mister Moneybags by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward

IMG_5273I met Bianca in an elevator.

She was on her way to interview me when we got stuck.

The beautiful, raven-haired reporter assumed I was a delivery guy because of the way I was dressed.

She had no clue I was really Dex Truitt, the wealthy, successful businessman she’d dubbed “Mister Moneybags”—her afternoon appointment.

Bianca told me how much she hated Dex’s type—snobby, over educated, silver- spooned men who didn’t appreciate the simple things in life. 

So, after the elevator finally started moving again, I cancelled the interview and let her believe I was someone I wasn’t—a bike messenger named Jay. I loved the way she looked at the fake me and didn’t want it to end.

I began dating her as “Jay”—all the while letting her interview the real me over email.

I didn’t expect that our chemistry online would be just as hot.

I didn’t expect the mess I’d gotten myself into.

I didn’t expect that Jay and Dex would fall in love with her.

And she was falling for two men.

Only, both men were me.

And when she found out, we were both going to lose her.

Nothing could have prepared me for that day. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for what came after.

All good things must come to an end, right?
Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.

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Author photoVi Keeland is a #1 New York Times Bestselling author. With more than a million books sold, her titles have appeared in over fifty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twelve languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.


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Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a fifteen-time New York Times bestseller of twelve novels.

Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 12-year-old girl with autism and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.


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Jessica Scott: After I Fall



I needed to get out of my apartment and away from the creeping sadness that threatened to drown me if I stayed alone one more minute.

Tomorrow, I will find the owner of The Pint. Tomorrow I will figure out how to unfuck my life.

But right now, I’m standing in a closed-in space with a man who looks like a real-life rendition of Jason Momoa, and my panties are currently hosting their own episode of Celebration at the idea of standing just a little bit closer. I should be at the Baywater Country Club drinking top-shelf martinis and celebrating with Kylie and Bethany and Meaghan. But I can’t see them tonight. For more than the obvious reasons.

I was planning on drinking myself stupid and forgetting everything about the last twenty-four hours in the human garbage fire that my life has become. It hurts and goddamn it, I’m tired of it hurting. I’m tired of being there for everyone else while I have to smile and look pretty.

Tonight? I thought I wanted the raw pulsing music and the bodies crushed together. I thought I wanted the contact. The distraction.

Don’t make a fuss, Parker. Don’t say anything to embarrass me, Parker. 

What did you do to deserve it, Parker? Why didn’t you just do what he asked? Why do you always have to argue? 

Anger crawls up my spine and squeezes my throat once more.

For once in my fucking life, I want someone to look at me and see me. Not my father’s car, or my not-allowed-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s tailored suits.

I want someone to see me. All of me.

I don’t know what I wanted when I left the apartment, but I think I may have just found it.

And the man standing next to me with the dark beard and dark eyes and terrifying tattoos seems like just the guy to take care of everything for a night.

Except that he might be a little too perceptive. I didn’t plan on him seeing the bruises on my arm. Guess I need to rethink that career as a makeup artist if my graduate school plans don’t work out.

He’s still watching me, a dark intensity in his eyes. An intensity that feels like a brushstroke over my skin.

I wonder what it would feel like to wake up wrapped in those massive arms, to feel those hands run over my skin while I sleep. What it feels like to be really touched instead of just positioned to receive.

My eyes burn, and I blink rapidly. I will not cry about the dumpster fire of my life and the garbage that surrounds me. I didn’t set out to solve anything tonight. I came out to escape. To try and find some release from the trapped air in my apartment.

Instead I think I’ve found a solution in search of a problem.

The Solution is a big man. Rough, too. The kind of man I would expect my father would call to lead the construction on a new project.

It’s his hands, though, that capture my attention. Big and flat and broad. They’re a working man’s hands. Not polished. Not cupped in anger.

Just matter-of-fact hands. Hands that would be honest.

Hands that would feel like heaven on my skin.

I look up to find him watching me. I’ve never physically felt a look before this moment, this lazy caress of a man’s gaze moving inch by inch over my skin.

I part my lips. Just enough that he notices. His nostrils flare.

“Careful, little girl.” His voice is thick and deep and smooth. Like the gaze still trailing over my body.

“Or what?” I whisper. Kelsey’s voice slides through my brain.

This is foolish. Utterly stupid.

This is power.

And it is exactly what I need tonight. I need to feel needed. Wanted.

Tonight isn’t about rational thought. It’s about the opposite. About going in blind, completely on instinct.

“I’m not sure you want to find out.”

But he has not moved away. He hasn’t turned his back on me, and he hasn’t dismissed me as some childish twat playing grownup.

God, but those words burn in my ears.

“Maybe I do.”

The muscles in his neck bunch beneath the thick beard. “Do you always hit on random men at bars?”

I press my lips together and dare to take a single step closer. “Nope. You’d be my first.”

He lifts one brow. “Oh yeah? What’s the occasion?” He jerks his chin toward me. “It doesn’t have to do with the bruises, does it?”

I lift my glass to my lips. Slowly I part them, letting the ice cube bounce off the tip of my tongue. When I lower it, his eyes are locked on my mouth. “No,” I whisper. “It’s got nothing to do with them.”

Nothing and everything. But he doesn’t need to know that. He only needs to take me some place and touch me.


Me. I need him to see me.

He moves in then with a quickness that catches me off guard. In an instant, he is right there, right in my space. I can smell the faint, smoky scent of him. Something woodsy and spicy and smoky.

It’s all I can do to stay still. To not back down from the challenge he presents in that single breath of space.

“What do you want?” His is a murmured question that feels like a demand.

The single word I need is lodged in my throat. It’s thick and heavy, filled with potential and promise.

“You,” I finally say.

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Her entire life has been a lie. Being with Eli is the most honest thing she’s ever done. 


Parker Hauser lives the perfect life and knows exactly where she’s been and where she’s going. Parker has to be perfect. Perfect grades, perfect body, perfect life. 


Until she meets Eli Winter. 


Eli throws her entire life into chaos when he denies her the one thing she wants from him. 


One chance encounter stokes her desire for the man who refused to touch her and left her questioning everything. 


When Parker tries to help his new business, the spotlight turns on Eli’s military record. And the war he’s tried to forget may  destroy them both.


Review: Hot on Ice



Hockey is my sport.  I came to it honestly as college social experiences revolved around the Division I hockey team – what else was there to do on a Friday night?  At a small DI school you interacted frequently with the players.  They were classmates and friends.  Also as a DI hockey school it was a huge part of non-academic learning.  I can still remember a class hockey game.  The 5 hockey players used it for practice, the majority of the rest of us were just trying to keep our feet on skates.  What I learned through those interactions was that these were the nicest guys you will ever meet:  off the ice.  They were respectful, honest, caring, and involved in their local community, not to mention most of them were pretty hot.  In other words, the perfect romance hero.  Thankfully, I’m not the only one that has noticed this and hockey romances are somewhat easier to find these days.  My new favorite is the Hot on Ice anthology.  This amazing collection of eighteen individual novels is authored by some of my favorites, including Kimberly Kincaid, Avery Flynn, Kate Meader, Angi Morgan, and others.  To make it even more enticing, 20% of the proceeds benefit the Homes for Troops charity.  The stories are all centered around the New Orleans Rage, the cup winning hockey team.  Did I mention it is also $.99.  If you are a fan of hockey romance this is a must read.