Mug Shot: Kangaroo Mug

There are days (or weeks, or months, or entire government administrations) when I wish I was elsewhere in the world. Here's a mug we picked up when we were in Australia. We used to have two (same shape, different designs and color schemes) and they're very nice. Not too big, not too heavy, nicely balanced.

One of the reasons Australia is on my mind these days is because my good friend, author Jenny Schwartz has a new book out--the first in a new series. 

So yay! And, assuming you're reading this on a day that's NOT within the March 7 - 14 Amazon boycott window, go out and get it now!

Stars Die

by Jenny Schwartz 

Book 1 of 3: Caldryn Parliament

https://www.amazon.com/Stars-Die-Caldryn-Parliament-Book-ebook/dp/B0DXMQQT8J/

 

Welcome to Caldryn Parliament. Golden Age mysteries in the Realm of science fiction and fantasy.

Recalled from the frontier, the new Warden of Caldryn Parliament is well aware she’s not a popular choice, but she never expected to portal into a murder scene.

Nor did she anticipate acquiring such a unique partner.

Now, Vanda Kavanagh must discover the truth of a politician’s death, unravel the mystery of her sabotaged wards, and survive her family.

***

Stars Die is a magic parliament mystery. If you've ever wished that Agatha Christie included magic or that Sherlock Holmes fought space pirates, this is the series for you!

 

Teaser Tuesday: Que Será, Syrah

So it's late, but I'm jumping on the Teaser Tuesday wagon...

https://books2read.com/Que-Sera-Syrah

My attempts to grind against him draw a rough chuckle from his throat. I’m close to unraveling, and I’m pretty sure he knows it.

He deepens the kiss. I dig my fingers harder into his shoulders and whimper with need. The taste of his mouth is intoxicatingly familiar. Memories from that night on the river come flooding back—the way he smelled and tasted, the sound of his voice, the heat of his skin. I’m shocked that I hadn’t instantly recognized him when he pulled me over. I’m sure jetlag had a lot to do with it, but if he hadn’t told me, would I ever have known? I’m not altogether certain.

And no, learning that he hadn’t connected the dots at first, either, doesn’t help. It seems like, were it not for the serendipitous circumstance of my having an out-of-date picture on my license, we would never have known. Which only fuels my sense of urgency. We came so close—too close!—to missing each other. I need him now!

I wrench my mouth away from his long enough to gasp, “Take me to bed. I want you naked.”

“Mmph,” he mumbles, his response lost as I seal his mouth once more. I assume we’re in agreement, however, since he immediately hefts me more fully into his arms, pivots away from the wall and lurches through his apartment until we reach his bedroom. There, he releases his hold on me. 

I’m breathing hard and so is he. I sink onto the bed before my knees give out and then watch transfixed as he quickly toes out of his shoes, peels off his shirt, and begins to undo his pants.

He's lean and sleekly muscled. His chest is lightly furred, his abdomen is bisected by the narrow trail of dark hair that runs from his sternum to his groin. There’s so much yumminess, and I can’t stop myself from staring. Damn. My mouth is watering. My hands are itching. I want to lick him all over, touch him everywhere.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as his hands stall on the fly of his jeans. 

Reluctantly, I raise my gaze to his face, only to find him eyeing me critically. “What?” I’m surprised into asking. Does he not like that I’m staring? He doesn’t seem like the shy type. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

He gestures at me impatiently. “You, too: naked, now. Strip.”

“Oh. Right.” I can’t keep from grinning as I hurry to comply, kicking off my own shoes, pulling my dress off over my head, unclasping my bra. I love that he’s as eager as I am.

Or maybe even more eager. Because, before either of us have removed our underwear—black boxer briefs on his part, a lacy thong (as previously mentioned) on mine—he joins me on the bed. Rolling me into his arms, surrounding me with his heat. His lips find mine and we’re kissing again, hands roving everywhere, skimming over each other’s bodies, stoking the fires that—swear to God—feel like they’ve been smoldering for years. 

Mug Shot: Irish Black Sheep Mug

 

Since it's Saint Patrick's Day, it seemed fitting to post one of my Irish mugs. I have a few, although not as many as I once had. This is not one of the mugs I got in Ireland, however, it was a gift from a friend and I think of her every time I use it. I identify with that single, black sheep.

I have several Irish set or Irish themed stories. If you want to learn more about them, I suggest you check out either my Celtic Legends stories:https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends which are set in Ireland, although not on St Patrick's Day. Or the first three books in my Games We Play series:https://www.pgforte.com/games-we-play-series-1 (The Wild Geese).

These stories feature an Irish American family, and the third book--Two Truths and a Lie--is partially set on Saint Patrick's Day. In an Irish bar. 

Actually, here's a scene from that book. In this scene, Brenda (co-owner of the bar) and Max are role-playing as Donna and Mike, two strangers who have just met. 

Max choked back a laugh. Before he had a chance to answer, Kristy had come over in answer to his wave. “Can I get you something?”

“Yes, I’ll have a Guinness, please,” he told her. “And the lady…” He glanced at Brenda inquiringly, but she was already shaking her head. “No?”

“No. Kristy, can you bring us a couple of Car Bombs?”

Kristy’s eyebrows shot up. “You want what now?”

“Irish Car Bombs.”

“You’re kidding. Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Uh…ordering drinks?”

“Stop it. You know what I’m talking about. That damn boggart’s gonna be—”

“Kristy,” Brenda snapped, cutting her friend off before she said something they’d both regret. “Let’s not go there now. Okay? And, yes, by the way, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Well, I don’t,” Max protested. “What’s going on? What the hell is a car bomb?”

“They’re disgusting,” Kristy assured him. “Trust me, you’re not missing anything.”

Brenda waved dismissively. “Oh, stop it. They’re not that bad. Besides they’re an Irish tradition.”

Kristy snorted in derision. “They fucking are not.”

Brenda sighed. Of course they weren’t. But Donna, who was a bit of an airhead, would probably think they were. She waggled two fingers at Kristy. “Two, please.”

“It’s your funeral,” Kristy muttered as she moved away. “I just hope your cousin never finds out.”

“What did she mean by that?” Max asked after Kristy left. “What doesn’t she want your cousin to know?”

Brenda pursed her lips. She hadn’t planned for Donna to have a cousin. And they were breaking character by talking about Luke. “I suppose she doesn’t want Luke to know what we’re drinking. Some people find the name offensive.”

“Can I assume Luke is among them?”

“Well, yes, that was her point. I’ve heard rumors that he’s thrown people out when they’ve tried to order them.”

Laughter glinting in his eyes, Max asked, “And are you by any chance trying to get me thrown out? I suppose that’s one way to ensure that your cousin doesn’t speak to me again.”

“Don’t be silly, Mike; why would I do something like that? We’ve only just met. Besides, I don’t even have a cousin.”

“Right. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. So the Car Bombs. ‘Not that bad’ is hardly a raging endorsement. Why are we doing this? Is there an upside to them that I’m missing?”

“Well, they’re very strong, for one thing. They’re made with beer, whiskey, and Irish cream liqueur.”

“Mixed together? Jesus, I’m starting to see Kristy’s point. Are you sure it’s just the name your cousin objects to?”

“I told you. I don’t have a cousin. And, anyway, taste isn’t as much of a factor as you might think. You have to drink them fast—before they curdle. They’re not meant to be savored.”

“Mmm. Appetizing. Sounds like a good way to get drunk.”

“Why, yes, Mike. Yes, it does.”

A slow smile curved Max’s lips as understanding gradually dawned on him. “Ohhh, I get it. Why, Ms. Donovan, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“So I can take you back to my room and have my wicked way with you? It’s a distinct possibility.”

Two Truths And A Lie

Games We Play 3.0

https://books2read.com/2Truths1Lie

 

All work and no play has been the story of Brenda Donovan's life these past few months. Her concern about the future of her family's inn has her tied up in knots—and not in a good way. Between searching for a buyer for the business, and keeping secrets from her cousins, she's had no time to pursue an actual relationship. But pretending to date sexy Max Murphy, the hotel scout who's there to assess the property? That's totally doable. Especially when games, role-playing, and light bondage are included in the package. Falling in love was never supposed to be part of their deal; but now her heart's in play and all bets are off. 

Max has no problem with hiding his true identity from Brenda's cousins. If that's the way she wants to play it, he's all in. But are Luke and Gwyn the only ones he's deceiving? 

It's game, set, and match this time around. And when all the scores have been tallied, and everyone's secrets are finally revealed, will the cousins lose the Wild Geese Inn?

Saturday Surprise! New Series Available for Pre-Order!

 

Series on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s?i=digital-text&rh=p_27%3APour%2B%2BDecisions&s=relevancerank&text=Pour++Decisions&ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_2

More links on my website:https://www.pgforte.com/pour-decisions

Foodie Friday: Excerpt and Sneak Peek at Que Será, Syrah

 So...here's another excerpt from my upcoming release, Que Será, Syrah, which is the third book in the multi-author series, POUR DECISIONS.

My main character, Allegra (AKA Legs) is the youngest and flakiest of the sisters. Actually, the other sisters aren't flaky at all. Legs is something of a foodie, and a bit of a snob about it. She's back in the States after having spent the last seven years in Europe. Here's a food-related scene set shortly after her return. 

I should point out that, since I'm no longer living in the Napa area, I researched current menus to create the cousins' feast. Sounds yummy though, doesn't it? 

 

The minute I walk through the door of the Golden Cougar I’m greeted by a chorus of familiar voices. 

“Hey, look who’s back!” 

“Allegra?”  

“Legs! Over here!” 

It’s Saturday night. My sisters and their plus-ones had all gone off to attend a wedding earlier in the day, leaving me with nothing to do but rattle around the empty house feeling very Kevin McAllister-esque. 

Unlike Kevin, however, I’m an adult with access to both money and a car so there was no reason for me to stay home alone if I didn’t want to, which I very much did not.  So, I’d dressed up as much as I could—putting on a light, summer dress that’s probably too thin for October, and some rando jacket I’d found hanging in the hall closet—and headed downtown in search of food, companionship, maybe a little adult entertainment, and also to take a break from all the family tension I’d been feeling. 

So of course I end up running straight into my cousins. Great. Just perfect.

“Hey, fam,” I say, feeling a little wary as I approach their table. “What’s up? It’s been a minute.” I’m honestly not sure what to expect. I haven’t seen them in years and, as I recall it, we hadn’t exactly parted as friends. Not that I ever thought of them as friends, exactly, anyway. They’re all older than me—enough so that it made a difference. Gianni’s the youngest and he’s the same age as Rosa…or, I dunno, maybe a little younger? Still. He’s definitely older than Bianca though, so… 

Not that any of it matters anymore. Apparently. It’s all water under a bridge or something like it, at least if the hugs and smiles I’m greeted with are anything to go by. 

I join them at their table where they’ve apparently ordered “one of everything” off the happy hour bar menu. I mean, seriously? Why not just order a meal? 

They’ve got crab cakes and hot wings, short rib tacos, mac and cheese arancini, grilled artichokes, roasted Mexican street corn riblets, barbecued oysters, caprese salad, shishito peppers, and an entire charcuterie platter including cold cuts, baked brie and an assortment of olives… I’m honestly not sure where they’re planning on putting it all. And in a way, I’m doing them a favor by joining their party and taking some of that food off their hands. 

I accept a glass of wine from one of the several bottles they’re working their way through (it’s a decent enough Meritage from a winery whose name I don’t immediately recognize) and we catch up. By which I mean that I give them a heavily redacted version of what I’ve been up to in Europe (Vito is particularly interested in hearing about my work aboard the cruise ship) and they fill me in on what’s been happening since I’ve been gone, and all the local gossip.  

I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying myself. They’re charming and funny and seem genuinely happy to see me. The Cougar is loud and crowded—but not in a rowdy sort of way. Servers bustle about the space, taking orders and delivering delicious looking food. Everything smells amazing; and it tastes even better. 

If I’d stayed at home instead of spending the last few years in Europe, this would probably have been my hang-out. Or maybe not. Granted, I can’t see all of the room, but from where I’m sitting, I only see a few familiar faces—and most of those are gathered around the table with me.

“So, level with me,” I say at last—finally addressing the elephant in the room. “What exactly went on here this summer? I mean, the real story. Because some of the stuff I’ve heard…” I trail off, leaving the sentence unfinished because I don’t know how to finish it. 

If you must know, I don’t really want to believe half of what I’ve heard. I’m hoping to learn that my sisters have been exaggerating how bad it’s been. Except…I don’t really want to think that either. I mean, would you want to learn that your sisters—and business partners—are paranoid and delusional? No, I think not.

pour-decisions

Meet the Martinelli sisters: Rosa, Bianca and Allegra. These partners in wine have just inherited a once-storied winery in the heart of Napa Valley. They’re living the dream, right?

 

Not so fast! Because, as it turns out, not everybody is happy for them. And that includes their Uncle Geno who’d assumed the property would come to him.

 

There are hoops to jump through, barrels to get over, and a mountain of regulations they'll have to scale. But these sisters are crushing it—and we don’t just mean the grapes. They’re making wine, falling in love, and working together to restore their inheritance to its former glory, one pour decision at a time. 

Throwback Thursday: Days of Wine and Rosés

 

So one of the perks of writing multiple books (and/or multiple series) is that it gives you the opportunity to revisit themes, relationships, or settings that you explored in earlier books. It's not so different from artists returning again and again to the same subjects or locations.  

In the case of the book I'm currently working on, Que Será, Syrah, the main topic that I'm revisiting is wine country. 

This is not my first wine rodeo. In the Oberon series, the Lupa e Cervo winery was featured in several books, most notably the fifth book in the series, Touch of a Vanished Hand. 

Touch Of A Vanished Hand

Oberon Book 5.0

 

Sinead Quinn has always been something of a drifter.   But now, with her ex-husband trying to blackmail her, and her ex-boyfriend's widow trying to put her in jail, she has no choice but to go to ground.  What better place to hide than with your family?   After all, what are sisters for?  Especially when you're a twin.

 But the first rule of hiding out, is to keep a low profile.  And that does not mean kissing your sister's boyfriend (even if he can't tell the two of you apart); rescuing a troubled teen; or taking a highly visible job as hostess of Oberon's most celebrated new inn.

 Adam Sasso has always dreamed big.  But big dreams beget big complications.  First, his goal to turn the vineyard he inherited from his grandfather into a world-class winery is threatened by a mysterious saboteur. Next, his plan to run the finest bed & breakfast Oberon has ever seen, is broadsided by a hostess who wants to run him.  Finally, it seems his fondest wish, of finding love-everlasting with the soul mate of his dreams, is about to go up in smoke when he can't convince her that they're destined to be together.

 This summer, it's going to take all the wizardry in Oberon to craft a happy ending for the drifter and the dreamer.

https://books2read.com/TouchHand

The next winery-related project I was involved in was a parody I co-wrote as part of the Nine Naughty Novelists. The Zillionaire Vampire Cowboy's Secret Werewolf Babies was possibly the most fun thing I've ever done as an author. 

You can read more about it here: https://ninenaughtynovelists.blogspot.com/2010/09/welcome-to-bloodsuck.html

Or download a copy here: https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/ftvgSbGg

BUT...they say the third times the charm, and that may well be true. The Pour Decisions series is a group project that has reunited one third of the Nine Naughty Novelists--authors Kat Davies, Kelly Jamieson, and me. And that's another reason to download ZVCSWB. Just sayin'. 

Kelly and I first came up with the idea while on an idyllic trip to Calistoga, CA. But the project has been YEARS in the making. 

Speaking of which, Kelly also has a winery-set book on her backlist:

You Really Got Me

There will be pain…but only if she asks nicely.

Kendall Vioget fell hard for Police Chief Jason Holloway, until the best sex of her life became something more, something she wasn’t ready for. Afraid of what he asked of her, afraid of her own desires, she walked away.

Now her brother’s fiancée has gone missing a week before the wedding, bringing Jason back into her life. She needs his help, but her body is losing the battle to resist the hunger to satisfy the dark cravings he can set free. 

Jason knows what she needs, and when her increasing submission banishes the self-doubts he’s been carrying around, he realizes a perfect match like this comes along only once in a lifetime. Until the missing persons case becomes a murder investigation, and suspicion falls on Kendall’s brother.

Kendall will do anything to protect the only family she has left, and Jason will do anything to make sure a killer is put behind bars. If he doesn’t handle this case right, the most precious gift she could have given him—her trust—will be destroyed. Permanently.

https://www.kellyjamieson.com/you-really-got-me

In any event, the Pour Decisions stories will be available for pre-order starting Saturday. I hope you'll check them out! 

Meet the Martinelli sisters: Rosa, Bianca and Allegra. These partners in wine have just inherited a once-storied winery in the heart of Napa Valley. They’re living the dream, right?

Not so fast! Because, as it turns out, not everybody is happy for them. And that includes their Uncle Geno who’d assumed the property would come to him.

There are hoops to jump through, barrels to get over, and a mountain of regulations they'll have to scale. But these sisters are crushing it—and we don’t just mean the grapes. They’re making wine, falling in love, and working together to restore their inheritance to its former glory, one pour decision at a time.

Learn more here: https://www.pgforte.com/pour-decisions

.

What I'm Writing Wednesday:

 So today, I'm posting a short excerpt from my upcoming book,QUE SERÁ SYRAH. This is part three in a three book, multi-author series that I've been writing with fellow authors, Kate Davies and Kelly Jamieson. 

It's been something of a secret project for us, and today's teaser is that the series is set mostly in Napa, and mostly on a winery.

Spend any amount of time with winemakers and you’ll hear the term terroir mentioned, usually with a certain amount of hushed reverence. Basically, terroir refers to the various environmental factors that might influence or affect the growing grapes. Ideally, it’s what allows the grapes to become the fullest expression of themselves. 

When I wake up on the morning after my arrival, I know immediately where I am. It’s as though, from the depths of my soul, I can recognize my own terroir. From the cool, soft air slipping in through my open window—bringing with it the familiar sound of bird song and the equally familiar mélange of fragrances rising up from the earth—to the same familiar views I’d grown up with, everything looks, sounds, smells and feels like home. And I am quite sure that, before too many more hours have passed, I’ll be able to say that it tastes like home, as well.

This is the place that shaped me, that made me who I am. It’s impossible not to imagine that—if only I could run downstairs fast enough, before I’m entirely awake—I’ll surprise my Nona in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. 

To be sure, there have been some changes (and mostly not great ones) in my immediate vicinity. My room looks nothing like it did when I left it. In the years since I’ve been gone, someone has removed my belongings and most of the furniture, taken down all my posters, and painted everything—walls, ceiling, doors and trim—a dull, dreary white. Blech.

Fun Fact: Before Napa was known around the world for wine, it was best known (at least within the state itself) for its psychiatric hospital. Back in the day, if you’d said that someone had “gone to Napa” it carried very different implications than it does today. This room, with its sparse furnishings and uninspired color scheme, is deffo giving those vintage Napa vibes. 

https://www.pgforte.com/pour-decisions