Tuesday, January 30, 2024

News for Tuesday January 30, 2024

 

Welcome to Oberon released last week—digital only unless I can find some way to make it an actual boxed set (ie three physical volumes in a single box) because it’s HUGE—much too big for a single volume! 

I don’t personally like the “first in series free” model. For one thing, it seems unfair to the people who only buy print books. But even so, I’ve priced the Omnibus at 2/3 of what the three books cost individually, so it’s kind of the same. 


https://books2read.com/Welcome-to-Oberon


You only have two more days to take advantage of the free and discounted books in two MM promos. 

The free promo: https://books.bookfunnel.com/mmfreebies/vu34moeomo includes my story, Angel Mine.



The sales promo: https://books.bookfunnel.com/mmspicybooks/15p4s9binx includes my story, Edge of Heaven.


Put a Ring Around the Rosie releases in just a little over two weeks. It’s available for pre-order now at: https://books2read.com/RingRosie


OR...you can find it—and a whole slew of Valentine’s Day themed reads here: https://books.bookfunnel.com/valentines24/s34z5w4ahl

Monday, January 29, 2024

Mug Shot Monday: Caves of Hella

 



My son and daughter-in-law went to Iceland recently and all I got was this mug. Nah, only kidding. That's actually perfect. I mean, is it possible to have too many insulated travel mugs? I certainly don't think so!

The Caves of Hella are one of the oldest man-made structures in the world. No one knows for sure, but apparently there's reason to believe the caves were constructed by the Celts. Which makes sense, I guess.  Tír na nÓg was an island located to the west of Ireland, after all. So if the Irish journeyed in that direction, that's probably where they fetched up. 

And I guess that's as good a reason as any to post an excerpt from IRON.

“Would you like to see it?” [Aislinn] asked, sitting up in bed with her legs crossed beneath her, wanting suddenly to give something back to him, to make him smile again.

The blankets slid to her waist and Gavin quickly averted his eyes. “Eh? See what?”

“The Summerland. You need only lie back and close your eyes and I will sing ye there.”

“Sing me there?” Curious eyes swung back up to her face. “Ye can do that?”

Aislinn shrugged. “Of course. It is just your mind I’d be transporting. Your body would remain here, in peaceful slumber.”

“Aye, no doubt,” Gavin muttered, his gaze turning suspicious. “But for how long will I slumber? That’s the question, is it not?”

“A night,” she answered. “No more than that. I promise ye, you’ll not travel outside of time tonight. When ye wake up tomorrow morning, safe in your own bed, neither you nor the world will be more than a single day older. Will ye not trust me?”

“Might I not come to harm there? For I’ve heard stories.”

“Not tonight,” she said, leaning closer to smile temptingly at him. “If I give you my word, O’Malley, that I’ll not allow you to suffer any harm tonight, will that not suffice?”

“And have ye the power to make such promises, I wonder?” he asked as he studied her expression but finally he nodded and closed his eyes. “Go on then, Fae. Do your worst.”

Aislinn took a moment to gather her power, humming quietly until the air shimmered and rippled around her and time itself began to shift and there she stopped it, mindful of her promise not to take him outside time tonight. But someday I might, she thought, and smiled at the sleeping form before her, someday, indeed, I might.

And then, still smiling, she began to sing...

*

Gavin sighed as Aislinn’s voice settled over him as welcome as a soft, warm blanket on a cold night; and he’d have gladly snuggled into it, if his body did not seem too heavy to move. His mind, on the other hand, felt light as air, rising higher and higher until, at last, it broke free of the bonds that had kept it tethered within him. And then, like a caged bird suddenly set free, it took off, winging its way westward over a bleak, black sea toward a flicker of light on the horizon.

The light grew as he approached until he realized it was not a light at all, but rather the reflection cast by the rising sun upon the tall, white cliffs of an island.

Gulls swept past him, crying out a greeting; and then he was soaring above the island itself. Gentle, rolling hills stretched below him as he flew and the low, throbbing tones of Uilleann pipes rose up from among them, as though calling him home.

Dipping closer to the ground, he spied horses racing each other for the sheer joy of it across vast, verdant pastures. The sweet, mingled perfumes of a thousand flowers filled the air and a light mist kissed his skin as he landed in a sunny glen.

Deer, browsing amid the trees, paused in their foraging, their tails flicking as they scented him, but they showed no fear. He was aware, too, of a thronging crowd of people that seemed to exist just beyond the edges of his sight and who studied him just as curiously as the deer did. But he paid them no mind for there was a sound that tugged at his consciousness, bidding him follow it.

Aislinn...

He found her, at last, seated atop the bent branch of a willow tree that had extended itself over a clear and sparkling stream, paddling her feet in the crystalline water and singing sweetly.

She broke off as he approached and smiled in greeting. Gavin paused on the sandy bank and stared at her. Though the water appeared cool and refreshing and he was suddenly aware of a great thirst, he was loath to partake.

Laughing, Aislinn jumped down from the branch to stand before him. “’Tis quite all right, you know. The water will do naught tonight but quench your thirst. Although, on another occasion it might, indeed, do more. But did ye not believe me when I promised to protect thee here? What is it that’s made ye so suspicious, O’Malley? What have the fae ever done to thee?”

“I doona know,” he answered with a shrug, trying not to notice the sweet smell of sunlight on her skin and in her hair. She was dressed in a simple, diaphanous gown of shimmering white without so much as a single ornament, but even with her feet bare and her hair undone she looked more elegant, somehow, than any woman he had ever seen.

No wonder her fool of a sister was so worried, he thought, for sure and she has the look of one who should be queen.

“But how is it you’re here?” he asked. “For I thought you were banned from the place.”

“Aye,” she answered, casting a sad glance at the landscape that surrounded them. “From the Summerland itself, I am still in exile. But no one can remove me from my memories of it. This is but a shadow of the place. I could have sent ye there alone, had I wished to. But without accompanying ye, I could not have guaranteed your safety. Nor could I have transported ye into the past without breaking my promise not to take ye out of time. But I thought this would do to show ye what it’s like and why I’m so loath to give it up. Do you not find it beautiful?”

He nodded. “I do. But what of the other place? Will you be showing me that as well, that I might compare the two?”

“Nay,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Perhaps another time. I’d not wish to trouble your sleep with such a thing. You’d not thank me for it if I did. Now, come,” she said, smiling once more as she took hold of his arm. “Let me show you something of my home.”

Instantly, a path appeared on the ground before their feet leading to a sumptuous pavilion that Gavin was certain had not even existed a moment previously. Bright silk brocade gleamed in the morning light and a banner flew above it.

Gavin squinted his eyes to try and make out the device traced upon the fluttering fabric until Aislinn tugged him forward. “’Tis of no import,” she insisted softly as she held aside the flaps that covered the doorway and bade him enter. “Pray do not worry yourself about it further.”

Inside, moss-covered stones were soft against his feet. A scattering of couches piled high with pillows furnished the large, round room and at its center stood a table set with a feast.

Silver bowls of fruit and dishes of butter, clotted cream and honey, still in the comb, stood side by side with wheels of cheese and jugs of ale, cakes and pies and fragrant brown loaves of bread—all manner of delicacies. Above a grated candle, keeping warm, was a pot Gavin was sure contained tea. He felt his mouth water as he gazed hungrily and worriedly at the tempting array. Then Aislinn laughed and, with a snap of her fingers, caused the entire table to disappear.

“Nay,” she said as she turned to him. “I was not forgetting your fears concerning our food and I’ll tempt ye no further with such a display. But I thought it no harm to show ye that I can indeed provide a meal fit for any occasion, as long as it’s here in my own country.”

“I didn’t doubt it,” Gavin replied with more politeness than truth.

Aislinn merely smiled. Then her smile turned sly. “So, then, since we’ll not be eating together, will ye not lie with me, O’Malley?” Her expression was like that of an angel, innocent, pure, without guile, as she cocked her head to the side and gestured toward one of the waiting couches.

Gavin inhaled sharply. Though he knew that to do such a thing here, with her, would be even more perilous for him than eating or drinking, a part of him wanted to answer, immediately and forever, yes! Instead, he posed his own question. “Will ye not transform yourself into Mairead for me, Fae?”

She shook her head. “Nay. That I’ll not. In this, of all places, I’ll be no surrogate, but only myself alone.”

“Then neither will I lie with thee here,” he replied, pleased with the cool, firm sound of his words though he didn’t doubt she could read his mind just the same and sense the disappointment raging within him, for he wished it could be otherwise. And when she gazed into his eyes and he felt her urging him to reconsider, he was tempted to give in. But, with an effort, he closed his heart to the sweet compulsion and, abruptly, felt it cease.

“Ah, well,” Aislinn murmured, taking hold of his arm once more and leading him back to the doorway. “If that’s to be the way of it, I think perhaps ’tis best for you to leave now.”

They pushed through the soft fabric only to find that a soft, silver rain had begun to fall, obscuring the landscape from his sight. Gavin felt a pang of loss and a cry of dismay broke from his lips. “’Tis all gone.”

“Do not sorrow yourself so,” Aislinn whispered in his ear. “For ’tis like the stars in the sky above. Though ’tis only at night you see them. They are always there and, day or night, they shine just as brightly. This place is a part of you now, Gavin; a place to which you might return, in your dreams, if you so wish it; a place you will remember always and, I hope, with fondness. But, sleep now,” she murmured and Gavin felt his eyes fall shut and his spirit start to sink, but soft and slow like a feather drifting to earth. And he heard the amusement in her voice as she added, “And may your angels gather round thee, Gavin O’Malley, and protect thee from all temptations.”

Temptations? “No use in bothering the angels over something like that,” he replied as sleep crept up to claim him. “For there’s hardly enough of those to be after worrying over.” In fact, he thought, there was really only one.

Aislinn...


IRON

https://books2read.com/b/IRON


 Nineteenth century Ireland. Blacksmith Gavin O'Malley is a bitter man, with a heart as hard as the iron he forges. He wants his life back--the one that was stolen from him the day his wife died in childbirth, taking their firstborn son with her. 

 

When Aislinn Deirbhile, an immortal, shape-shifting fae, arrives on his doorstep, he knows he's in luck. For Aislinn can give Gavin everything he's been missing: A devoted-seeming wife in the image of his beloved Mairead, and children who are sure to outlive their father. Now, all he has to do is find a way to keep her--without losing his immortal soul in the process. 

 

But Aislinn has an agenda of her own. On the run from a vengeful fae lord who's vowed to either make her his or end her existence, she knows the iron that allows Gavin to take her captive will also keep her pursuers at bay. In order to put herself permanently beyond her enemy's reach, however, Aislinn will need something more. She'll need to win Gavin's heart and convince him to willingly part with a piece of the very soul he's trying to save.

Wednesday, January 24, 2024

What I'm Reading for Wednesday January 24, 2024

 



So I read two "Weird Christmas" stories recently. The first one was MM and had The Best title: Help! I'm the Big City Guy in My Christmas Comfort Movie by Joel Abernathy. It was cute. And the "Big City" in question is New York City--always a plus for me IF it's done right. And the hero wasn't there long enough for it to be done wrong--so that part was great. The MC is a script-writer--something else I love--who's just been dumped by his cheating boyfriend...who does something in Finance. I forget what exactly. Not that it matters since he's already old news when the story opens.  

Our MC, Matthew, is watching his favorite Christmas movie, Mistletoe Hollow, which came out when he was an impressionable teenager (this is important to the plot) when he's magically pulled into the TV and ends up in the movie. Ben is the hero of the movie--a larger than life, lumberjack-esque, Christmas tree farmer. And the object of teenage Matthew's crush. 

My problem is that if Ben is not the actor that appeared in the movie, and the Mistletoe Hollow that Matthew ends up in is a real place (albeit in a different dimension...maybe?) then he didn't really end up in the movie after all? Still a really cute premise however. Just be prepared to suspend your disbelief.

Which you kind of have to do any time you read a magical Christmas story. I'm sure people have said the same thing about my own Christmas Angel. But, I don't know. I think that's half the fun of that kind of book/movie.

The second book I read is called Landline and is by Rainbow Rowell. It's MF and it's set in Los Angeles. Georgie is (coincidentally) a TV comedy screenwriter. She does a last minute bail on her family's trip to Nebraska to spend Christmas with her mother-in-law because she and her writing partner need to hammer out four scripts by December 27th. 

It's one of the funniest books I've read in a while. It really does read like a TV comedy and it's set in Los Angeles, which is another city that I've lived in and have  odd, proprietary feelings about.  Definitely a ME problem. Although, not in this case because the descriptions were fairly seamless. 

The fact that she never had to stop and charge her electric car, OTOH, that was jarring. Her showers, clothes changes, and difficulties with her cell phone (which wouldn't hold a charge and could only be used when plugged into her laptop, which she apparently never took home with her) were all documented and were a big part of the plot and action. But her car? Never a word. And this was ten years ago--the dates are somewhat important--and I happen to have a ten year old electric car. So I am very well aware of the kind of mileage she would have been getting. She would have had to stop and charge her car at some point during the story. She didn't. And given that she was portrayed as someone who never had time to do a lot of ordinary things--buy clothes, or a new phone, or a new phone battery or even a new phone charger--I think an electric car was a really bad choice for the character.  

Still. This is not a big deal. Most people probably wouldn't notice or care.

It's a VERY cute story about a magic phone that would only connect her to the past. I loved the way she struggled with the reality--was she dreaming? Was she having a psychotic break? Or did she have a "magic fucking phone"? I loved the disconnect between the reality she was experiencing and how the people around her (her friends and co-workers) reacted to her seemingly aberrant  behavior. 

There were just a few loose plot threads that didn't get tied up at the end. It was a very Nora Ephron-esque ending. Which, obviously, a lot of people like. For me, I thought it was a little abrupt and I would have liked some explanations (not about the magic fucking phone--magic doesn't require explanations) but about things that are probably too spoilery to mention. Sorry. Or maybe not. Read the book and come back and tell me what you think. 

Christmas Angel

An Angels in the Afterlife Story


https://books2read.com/Christmas-Angel

Being fully transparent is good for a relationship, right? Well, maybe not when it’s literal.

 

Christmas Angel is a second-chance, holiday romance with a celestial twist. Probationary angel Jake Hennessy's been sent back to earth to mend fences with his ex. Or has he? Certainly Tony doesn’t seem to think that's the case. 

 

Tony DiCecco might have ninety-nine problems—and then some—between dealing with his meddlesome family AND running the family business (a Christmas tree farm in rural Texas) but he's pretty sure that playing catch-up with his ex-husband isn’t supposed to be one of them. 

 

And what would even be the point? It’s hard to imagine what kind of future the two of them could have when one of them is alive and the other...isn't?



Tuesday, January 23, 2024

News for January 23, 2024


 


Welcome to Oberon

PG Forte

Omnibus One: Books 1 – 3

 

https://books2read.com/Welcome-to-Oberon

 

 

Ever wish you could find a small-town love story with magic, mystery, a huge cast of characters and a happy ending? How about an entire series like that? Welcome to Oberon, California. Where murder and mysticism combine. Where the focus is always on friends, families and feelings. And where love will save the day…eventually.

 

Three connected tales of love, murder, mystery...all set in a mystical small town where anything might happen. This volume contains the first three books in the Oberon series: 

 

Scent of the Roses

A Sight to Dream Of

Sound of a Voice That is Still. 

Second Chances, Friends to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Hurt-Comfort, Age Gap, Betrayal, Suspense.




Releases January 26, 2024



Shield 

Jenny Schwartz 

Book 3 of 3: The Delphic Dame

 



If Cherry was a selfish witch, she’d keep running. She’s an oracle. She KNOWS that trouble is closing in. However, there’s an instant in which she could escape, and so could those she loves. 

Too bad she’s surrounded herself with ridiculously noble allies. The kind of self-sacrificing, kind, clever, and resolute people who force you to love them…then go off to risk their lives for the greater good. Of course Cherry has to rescue them. 

And if she’s rescuing those she loves, maybe she could save everyone else along the way?

Shield is the third and final, unmissable book in The Delphic Dame trilogy.

Author’s note: you won’t guess the ending!


Are you Ready for a Snow Day?




23 seasoned romance authors will be giving away books, swag and gift cards! 

Monday, January 22, 2024

Mug Shot Monday: Crissy Field Heron Mug

 



So...here's a picture of my Crissy Field mug appropriately displayed with a Golden Gate Bridge background. I have A LOT to say about this mug. And no, we're not going to talk about the fact that the image was stamped onto the mug crookedly. I choose to believe that it was intentional. But to continue...

I grew up in Fort Lee, New Jersey, so it's not surprising that I have a fondness for WPA style artwork. 

The post office there (the original one on Main Street) used to have depression era murals on the wall. Also Oak paneling and Arts & Craft style tiling--all of which still push all the right stylistic buttons for me. 

We've discussed my YOSHIKO YAMAMOTO obsession already yes?

All. The. Buttons. 

In any event, I grew up, and eventually moved to the West Coast where I ended up in the Bay Area--yet another community with a strong Arts & Craft, depression era aesthetic. Witness the Coit Tower murals.

Really, it's not so surprising when you consider that I basically moved from one end of Route 80 to the other. 

In any case, I lived in the Bay Area for nearly thirty years, and spent at least a third of that time volunteering at the annual Coastal Cleanup Day. For many of those years, the posters for the event were the work of Christopher Wormell--an English Illustrator whose connection to the event is unclear. I don't care. I love his work and did manage to acquire a nice collection of posters that I might still have (although successive moves make that questionable, at this point). Here's an example of one of the posters (NOT my photo):


These posters remind me very much of the artwork you can find in Subpar Parks -- now a book, but also one of the BEST profiles on Instagram, IMO.

Oh, and I also have a special fondness for Great Blue Herons. In fact, I'm attaching a Great Blue Heron excerpt from A Sight to Dream Of below. Which is perfectly apropos since it's one of the three books included in the Welcome to Oberon collection which releases tomorrow. Yay!

But first: the mug. I'm not a big fan of the gray, to be honest, although I suppose it's fitting. Fog Gray. It makes sense, I guess. But, aside from that, it has a lovely satiny finish--except for the black glaze, which is matte. As I mentioned above, the image appears to have been stamped into the soft clay and it looks like a wood-block print. Which, as discussed, is one of my favorite art forms--ceramic is another, making this mug very close to perfect. 

It also has a nice rounded-square shape to it. And I think it would be my absolute favorite mug if it had an image that was visible when I use my left (dominant) hand. Or, if the color was warmer. 

And now, the promised excerpt. This takes place during/after the Coastal Cleanup. Sam is new to Oberon and had NOT gone to the marina to take part in the cleanup, but  he got conscripted into helping out with the talley. 



She’s a witch, Sam decided, as he sent the Day-Glo pink Frisbee sailing across the lawn for the dogs to chase again.  Definitely a witch—and in more ways than one. But he didn’t want to think about that, right now. He just wanted to get the hell away from here. And away from her.

The tally was finished, but they were all still stuck hanging around. Other than that whacko realtor, who’d announced her intention to leave the minute the counting was done, and who nobody had seemed inclined to stop.  

And people said city life was stressful. These small-town folk were seriously nuts.  

The girls were turning cartwheels in the grass, laughing whenever one of them fell, the dogs running over each time to lick their faces. The air was warm, it smelled of seaweed and sage. And the water in the bay looked like countless sheets of shiny gray glass sliding back and forth across each other. He could not for the life of him understand how the people who lived here were not continually seduced, by the beauty all around them, into forgetting all their problems.

Maybe they were just too used to it.  Maybe they didn’t even see it anymore.  Because the only one who seemed to be getting deflected here, was him. And that was not a good thing. Oberon might be a nice place for a visit, but it was obviously a very dangerous place in which to try and live.

The dogs had reached the Frisbee, landed at the edge of the lawn, but they paused and stiffened, and he tracked the direction of their gaze. A huge blue-gray bird, easily four feet tall, gazed back at the dogs. Motionless. Majestic. The most incredible thing Sam had ever seen.  

Sam knew of only one person who might be able to tell him what it was, and what it was doing here. And there was no way on earth he was going back inside that building to ask her about it.

As he watched, the scene came unstuck. The dogs resumed their fight for possession of the Frisbee, the bird shook out its feathers and stalked slowly away. And Sam paused, half turned towards the Nature Center, irresolute. She probably wouldn’t bite his head off again, just for asking about a bird. But on the other hand, he wouldn’t lay odds on it, either.

Scout and Officer Henderson chatted on the porch. Erin, Larry and Gail had gathered together on the steps. All of them forced out of doors by the unbearable tension inside the building. All of them waiting.  

Only Marsha remained indoors. As the source of the tension, she wasn’t being forced anywhere.  

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been sitting in a chair with a wet cloth covering her eyes, blocking out the world. Her feet rested on a second chair, a cup of tea sat untouched on the table beside her, growing cold. A very tired, very stressed out, very angry witch.  

Or maybe she was just working up a new spell? One that would transform her back from the raging she-devil she seemed to have suddenly turned into, would be a nice idea.  And if it worked, be it the blackest of black magic, he was all for it.

The dogs came bounding back across the grass toward him, leaping over the children, who had fallen down in their path. The older dog, a little larger and part greyhound from the looks of her, had caught the Frisbee again. But that didn’t stop the younger one from trying to steal it away. Sam wasn’t sure what kind of dog the second one was, maybe a chocolate lab/chow mix with a little rottweiller thrown in?  

Taking hold of the Frisbee, Sam sent it sailing over the lawn once more, smiling as it flew over the girls’ heads. They squealed delightedly as the dogs barreled over them again. The way the dogs charged through the grass reminded him a lot of those geese.

And thinking about the geese, of course, brought him back to thinking about Marsha. The witch. 

Ah, hell, at least it beat thinking about all the other things his mind was doing its best to not think about. He couldn’t help remembering how pretty she’d looked this morning; or how her smile and her laughter and the touch of her fingers on his arm had lit him up inside.  And then later, when her hooded eyes and the husky whisper of her voice had turned their silly little word game into something more hotly competitive than he would have thought possible.  

Even when she’d zapped his headache away she’d been smiling. A friendly witch. For the most part. Smart and helpful and more than a little innocent-seeming, but with just a touch of fire buried somewhere deep within her. Not at all the kind of woman he was usually drawn to. But someone unusual. Intriguing, even. Someone he wouldn’t have minded getting to know better.

Until she’d gone all rabid on him.

He supposed he should give her the benefit of the doubt. Just because he had no idea what he’d done to set her off like that, it didn’t mean she didn’t have a reason. It was even vaguely possible that the reason might be something…reasonable.  

Besides, he did owe her one. Right now, it appeared that the only thing standing between him and a lengthy, unpleasant police interrogation was her word that he’d been in the parking lot all morning. And he still had no idea why she’d said that. He’d been watching her, hadn’t he? He knew damn well she hadn’t seen him, except that one time.  She couldn’t possibly have known that he hadn’t gone down to the beach. And she didn’t know him from Adam. So why had she vouched for him?

It could be she’d done it as part of some police conspiracy, of course. That she wanted to lure him into complacency, and tie him up here, while elsewhere, nefarious forces were engaged in who-knew-what illicit activities. Camille would’ve probably endorsed that idea, but it seemed a little too unreasonably paranoid, even for him to consider.

He’d just about made up his mind to go back inside and ask her, what was the worst that could happen, after all?  She probably couldn’t really turn him into a toad, could she? But when he’d turned to go inside, he saw the other cop—Kate’s father—bearing down on him. The look on his face was not encouraging, and Sam felt the tension inside him ratchet up again.


Welcome to Oberon
Omnibus One: Books 1 - 3


https://books2read.com/Welcome-to-Oberon


Ever wish you could find a small-town love story with magic, mystery, a huge cast of characters and a happy ending? How about an entire series like that? Welcome to Oberon, California. Where murder and mysticism combine. Where the focus is always on friends, families and feelings. And where love will save the day…eventually.

 

Three connected tales of love, murder, mystery...all set in a mystical small town where anything might happen. 


This volume contains the first three books in the Oberon series: 

 

Scent of the Roses

A Sight to Dream Of

Sound of a Voice That is Still. 

Second Chances, Friends to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Hurt-Comfort, Age Gap, Betrayal, Suspense.

Wednesday, January 17, 2024

What I'm Reading Wednesday: January 17, 2024

 


There was a time when I approached reading the way I approached wine or coffee. I would read just about anything--as long as there was a minimum of violence and/or really outlandish (IMO) mistakes.  I'll never like the aesthetics of boxes, but I can enjoy cheap wine and diner coffee. Cheap chocolate, OTOH, is just nasty. 

But when it comes to reading, I've become...well, I'd like to say discerning, but the truth is I've just become cranky. Which probably means I shouldn't be airing my opinions of other people's books, but so it goes. 

 I've just finished reading a book called Sour Grapes, by Eliza Lentzski--a new-to-me author. I've been seeking out books set on California wineries, to keep me in the proper mind-set for a book I'm working on. A necessity, now that Napa is no longer in my backyard. I mean that literally. For close to a decade the Napa Valley was the view from my back porch. It's where I ate or went grocery shopping. It's where I attended yoga class several times a week. 

But I digress...

Sour Grapes is definitely one of the better books I've read on the subject. By which I mean, I may have had a small problem with a few plot issues, but she pretty much nailed the setting. 

There were so many books that I DNF'd--books that left me wondering if the author had ever even been to California or drank a glass of wine.  I mean, seriously, WTF??? 

Lentzski, OTOH, got so much right.  The weather in particular--notably those cool summer nights that I remember so vividly and that almost everyone gets wrong. And that made me so happy, I can't tell you! On the other hand, I have to say, her characters were getting ENTIRELY too much accomplished before getting to work each day.

The 6 AM start time was referenced repeatedly, yet entire scenes--much of the book, actually--seemed to occur in the morning. Before work. Sexy times, multiple showers, carpentry projects, elaborate breakfasts, long, cross country runs that...well, okay, that was problematical all on its own, given that it came after a serious discussion of mountain lions. 

And look, yes there are mountain lions who occasionally wander into many of the more populous parts of coastal California--including Napa. And yes, people still run there anyway. But you know when you don't want to be jogging--alone--in areas where mountain lions have been sighted? That would be those times of day when mountain lions are most active. Meaning dusk to dawn. Meaning not in the morning. Especially not if you're going to still have time afterwards to come home, shower, dress, make and eat breakfast, and still get to work before 6 AM. Because then you'd be running in PEAK Mountain Lion Time.

So, yeah, I had issues. I also had problems with a couple of scenes that I'm reluctant to mention due to spoilers. But...complicated surgeries are complicated. They take HOURS under the best of circumstances and no one's bouncing back from that shit in only a couple of days.

I also might have wished the author had spent more time working up to the resolution. It felt rushed. Very much like she ran out of time or didn't want to book to get too lengthy. But I've been there and I've done that, so I may just be projecting.  Overall, it was a very enjoyable read.

I also enjoyed several of Marina Adair's St Helena Vineyard series of novels. I hated the hero in the first book because he was a bully to the heroine. And, yes, it was before he got to know her, which is supposed to be a mitigating factor. But how you treat anyone is how you treat everyone and...I think I'm mangling that quote. 

He did redeem himself, eventually, but really...such a dick. But don't let that put you off the series because, as I mentioned last week, that's a me problem rather than a book problem. There's a lot of reasonably realistic Napa Valley goings on, and a lot of  wine knowledge (especially in book three).

 So, there you have it. For some classic winery-set stories, I'd also suggest Josh Lanyon's A Vintage Affair--even though it's NOT set in California. And Kelly Jamieson's You Really Got Me, which is. 


I'm hoping that the wine book that I mentioned earlier--the one I'm working on now--will be released this year. Fingers crossed that I can make that happen. 

My other big winery book, Touch of a Vanished Hand, isn't available now, either. But that one WILL be re-released in the next few months.

In the meantime, Oberon's winery does make a very sexy appearance in Sound of a Voice That is Still, which is out now.  

OR...for a completely different take on wineries, might I suggest The Zillionaire Vampire Cowboy's Secret Werewolf Babies--which is every bit as ridiculous as the name implies? Download a free copy of this not-to-be-taken-seriously PARODY here:

 https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/ftvgSbGg

Oh...there's a video, too. Which I have to drag out every so often because it's just FUN!

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Tuesday/Newsday: For Tuesday January 16, 2024




 

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Ya know how we have Netflix, Prime, Hulu, and HBO Max? Each service has it’s own benefits, because it fulfills a need and want. Because YOLO (you only live once), and even on a budget we deserve to treat ourselves!

What if I told you there is another subscription service similar to the ones featured on Amazon that has THOUSANDS of romance books in both ebook and audio format and is available to customers in the US, AU, CA, UK, IT, NZ, BE, and NL? 

That subscription service is through Kobo, and your first month is FREE! 

Have you seen a post on social media? An ad on Facebook referencing a book you really want to read, only to find out it isn’t in KU? Well, it could be on Kobo Plus – and the borrowing format is the same as Kindle Unlimited.

What is Kobo? An app you can download to your phone or tablet, like you’ve downloaded the Kindle App to your phone or tablet. They also have a branded e-reader like the Kindle. You must have the app or the e-reader to get your free month of Kobo Plus – and to continue with the program, if you so choose. 



Sunday, January 14, 2024

Mug Shot Monday: Floral Starbucks' Mug


 

This is going to be another short post. There's not much to say about this mug other than the fact that I got it at Starbucks (and have no recollection of when or where) and it's exactly the kind of cheery-looking mug that's perfect for a winter's day. 

As it turns out, I do NOT have a lot of stories set in January. Sound of a Voice That is Still is really all that comes to mind. But I guess that's kind of perfect given that Welcome to Oberon (the omnibus in which it's included) releases next week!

So, here's a brief excerpt from Sound and info on the collection--which happens to have one of my FAVORITE recent covers. 


            It was going to be another wild night. Ryan took note of the rising wind and the gathering clouds that signaled a new storm’s imminent approach. He picked up his pace. He wanted to take full advantage of the break in the weather and the fact that his leg was momentarily numb to work off the excess energy that still surged through his body in the aftermath of his treatment. And to work off some of the dog’s excess energy, as well.  

            A fitful, wet wind played havoc with the dog’s coat as Ryan tramped along behind her.  She was clearly enjoying herself and seemed intent on exploring every inch of the winding path that edged the marina.

            The air was brisk and invigorating.  Ryan took several deep, grateful breaths.  He was feeling better and more optimistic about his recovery than he had in several days.  Who’d have guessed that anything as weird as acupuncture would be the only thing that offered even temporary relief?  But at this point, he was willing to give almost anything a shot. 

            At the other end of the leash, the dog left off nosing at a couple of crabs that had been cast up on the rocks to growl menacingly at something on the beach below them.  Ryan followed the direction of the dog’s gaze and was surprised to see a woman walking slowly through the shallow surf.   Her head was downcast, and her eyes scanned the ground around her as though she were searching for something she’d lost along the shoreline.  

She was carrying a five-gallon plastic bucket in each hand.  As he watched, she stopped, put the pails down, and then bent to fumble with something at the edge of the waves.  Water surged around her.  What the hell was she doing down there?  Ryan’s guts tightened with apprehension.  The damn woman was likely to get herself drowned if she wasn’t careful. 

            “Hey!” he called to her, but she appeared not to hear him.  She hauled a dripping object out of the water and dropped it carefully into one of the buckets.  He called again, but she still took no notice of him, just went back to feeling around for something below the surface of the water. 

            Beside him, his dog set up a weird high-pitched howling, and that the woman did seem to hear. She straightened suddenly. To Ryan’s surprise, she turned to look not back towards the shore, but out to sea.  He shook his head in annoyance. What in God’s name did she think she was going to find out there? 

            He watched as she scanned the horizon.  She took a single step forward, and then another--as if she were searching for the source of the sound in the depths of the ocean.  The wind whipped long strands of red hair across her face and she pushed at them with an impatient hand.  Watching her, Ryan grew more and more uneasy.  There was no way in hell he wanted to go down there, but he wasn’t a cop for nothing.  And he couldn’t just walk away and leave her where she clearly had no business being. 

            She continued to stare into the distance, so heedless of the rising swells that broke around her that she was nearly knocked her off her feet by an especially large wave. That decided the matter for him.  Cursing under his breath, he made his way down the rocky slope and splashed toward her.  

            “Excuse me, Ma’am,” he’d begun, when she staggered back a step at the impact of yet another swell.  He grabbed her arm just above the elbow to keep her from falling. 

            She whirled around swiftly, not unbalanced at all now, arms and legs working in precise harmony to sweep his feet out from under him.  In the next instant he was on his ass in the water.  Pain shot up his spine from the rocks he’d landed on.  He was aware of a cold, wrenching sensation in his injured leg.   Oh, fuck, that could not be good.  

            “You!”  She stared at him, an expression of shock on her face.  “But, what—” With a flash of copper fur, his dog erupted out of nowhere and barreled straight into the woman.  And then she was no longer towering over him, but glaring back at him from eye level, as the dog romped around between them barking excitedly.  

“Oh, Christ.  Not you again?”  Ryan groaned.  He recognized her now, and an incontrovertible feeling of doom settled over him.  Things would never come easy for him and this woman, nor ever run smooth.  He knew it in an instant and could only wonder that he hadn’t figured it out the very first time they’d met.  Things between them would not be simple, or straightforward, or even sane.  In the long run, they’d be lucky if they didn’t drive each other nuts. 

            He should be running like hell to get away from her.  But in his present condition, running anywhere was a non-option.  Instead, he found himself wondering how long it would take him to get her to smile this time, or if she’d even smile at all?

            “Just what in the hell were you trying to do?” Siobhan demanded.  “And how dare you sneak up on me like that!”  

            Both the Quinn sisters could have benefited from a little of his father’s philosophy, Ryan decided.  His father had been a firm follower of the Yoda School of Thought.  Do. Or do not.  There is no try.  It was a lesson he’d had drummed into his head at an early age.  

            “I wasn’t trying to do anything,” he informed her crossly. “My objective was to keep you from drowning yourself.”

            She looked startled.  “Drowning myself?  But, I wasn’t— shit!” She broke off as another wave crashed over them. 

            The sea was getting rougher by the minute. Ryan suppressed a shiver as the wind sliced through his wet clothes. Enough of this chitchat. He had to get them both out of this water. Right now.

            “Sonofabitch,” she spluttered as his dog licked helpfully at her face and dripping hair. “Can’t you at least control your dog?”  She tried pushing the dog away, but it wouldn’t be budged. “And I was not trying to drown myself, you idiot.  For your information, I happened to be working.”  

            Working?  That was a good one.  “Oh, yeah?  Nice job you got,” he sneered, barely even listening to her as he felt around on the slippery rocks; trying to find the purchase he’d need to lever himself to his feet.  “Never mind that now. Can you get up?”  He wasn’t altogether certain he could.

            “Well, of course I can— wait.”  She lifted one dripping foot.  “Where’d my boot go?”   

            He nodded at the black object floating on the surf.  “There it is.  No!” he ordered, as she started to get up. “Just stay where you are. I’ll get it.” 

            There was no way in hell he was going to let her go stumbling around in the water barefoot. She’d likely twist her ankle, or maybe cut her foot open on a piece of shell.  And he seriously doubted whether he could carry her any distance.  He heaved himself to his feet.  Not too bad, he thought, pleased that his leg didn’t immediately give out.

            “Thank you,” Siobhan said quietly when he’d retrieved her boot for her.  He extended a hand towards her.  After a moment’s hesitation, she took it.  His hand was wet and cold, just like her own.  It was probably as numb as her own, too, she thought. 

            She was conscious of a faint sense of disappointment as her fingers closed around his.  She felt as though she’d grasped nothing more animate than a piece of hard rubber.  But she was altogether too uncomfortably aware of his strength as he hauled her to her feet.  She’d been lucky, knocking him off balance like she had.  Or maybe lucky wasn’t the right word, either.  She was a little embarrassed that she’d gone right into attack mode, without taking the time to assess the situation.  But he’d startled her, and she’d reacted without thinking. 

            She shoved her foot back into her wet boot and reached for the buckets, intending to pour off a little of the excess water they contained.

            “Leave those,” he ordered, brusquely. 

            She turned to stare at him, embarrassment and concern incinerating in a flash of amazed fury.  Just who the hell did he think he was, giving her orders?  “No, I will not leave them!  I’ve gone to a lot of trouble collecting this stuff.  They’re coming with me.”

            “Look, the tide’s coming in fast and the temperature’s dropping.  We need to get off this beach and out of this weather.  Now.  Hypothermia is nothing to play around with, you know. Anything that slows us down too much could be deadly.  Besides, those rocks up there are dangerous.  You could easily twist your ankle if you tried to carry anything over them.” 

            “Oh, really?”  She glared at him.  She was well aware of the tides and the temperature and the dangers of hypothermia.  And as far as the rocks went, “Listen, you, I can keep my footing up there just fine. Probably better than you can, in fact.”

            “Yeah? I’ll be the judge of that,” he said sullenly, twisting the handles out of her hands. “Give them to me, then.  I’ll take them.  You go up first.”

            She continued to stare coldly at him, as she tried to get her temper under control.  Then, just as she was about to mention the gently graded trail that she planned on taking up from the beach, his scowl deepened. 

            “Well, what’re you waiting for?” he asked. “Let’s move it!”

            She shrugged.  “Fine.  Have it your way.” 

            She turned and scrambled up the embankment.  Let him carry them, then.  The stupid ass. Let him carry the buckets and the weight of all that extra water right up over the rocks, if that was what he wanted to do.  With any luck, he’d give himself a hernia. She reached the path with relative ease, and stood there, shivering with cold, as she watched his laborious ascent.  

            “Jesus, what in God’s name do you have in here?” he muttered when he’d finally reached the top. “Rocks?”

            She smiled at him sweetly. “Yes.  Exactly.” 


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