New Release! The Spirit of the Place is out now!

The Spirit of the Place
Oberon Book 6.0

PG Forte

Paranormal Romantic Suspense

https://books2read.com/SpiritPlace

'Tis the season to be jolly, but Jasmine Quinn is far from happy about her mother's  latest folly: her upcoming wedding to former Wall Street financier, Sam Sterling.  Jasmine doesn't like her future stepfather, or his values.  Anybody with as much money as Sam, should be spreading it around, aiding worthy causes, making it count for something.  Instead, he seems intent on using his wealth to embarrass her mother by throwing a ridiculously lavish wedding.  But there's one thing about Sam that Jasmine can't help but admire, no matter how much she'd like to—the graduate student he's hired as an intern.

​

Brandon Ablemarle is also finding it hard to get into the holiday spirit.  Especially since his dream job has just become a nightmare, thanks in part to the fiery redhead with some of the goofiest ideas he's ever heard of. But what else can you expect from the daughter of a self-proclaimed psychic?   Marsha Quinn has a lot to answer for.  She’s not only encouraged her daughter's esoteric craziness, but she’s also turned one of the most brilliant stock analysts Wall Street had ever seen into a nutcase as well.  One who actually appears to believe that the answers to the stock market can be found in the stars!

 

It's a clash of ideologies when Jasmine and Brandon get together.  Can the spirit of the season, and the spirit of the place help them to see beyond their differences?

Mug Shot: Port Isabel Mugs

 

My recent trip to South Padre Island included a stop at Port Isabel, which is just across the bay. I got these cool mugs there. I couldn't decide on blue or red, so I ended up with both. They're very similar to the Broken Yolk mug I wrote about several weeks ago, only larger. I would have liked them all to be the same size, but it is what it is.

Other than cute gift shops, really good seafood, and pirate-themed bars, there doesn't seem to be much to Port Isabel. But they have a lighthouse! I love lighthouses. In fact I have a WIP set in one.

Right now, it's on the schedule for a 2026 release. But we'll see how that goes. For now, here's a look at the cover, blurb and short excerpt...

Selkie

Celtic Legends

https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends

When an injured selkie washes up on his beach in the midst of a storm, Ronan McDermott has no choice but to take her into his home. He knows she won’t survive long without his help, so he does what he must to keep her alive until the weather breaks and she can get proper care.

 

Stranded in a world where she doesn’t belong, delirious with pain, and unable to communicate with her captor-slash-caregiver, Meara is storm-tossed in more ways than one. Ronan’s firm manner, his aura of quiet command, centers her. He's a rock she can to cling to.

 

She knows she shouldn’t trust him; he knows he can’t trust himself. But despite the many reasons to keep their distance, they find themselves falling for one another—and ignoring the questions they should be asking: What will happen when Meara's wounds heal and she's strong enough to return to the water? Will she be happy to leave Ronan behind? Will he even allow her go?

Excerpt: 

Gulls swooped and cried in the air above me as I dragged myself farther up the beach, away from the punishing waves. After several moments, I paused for breath and took a look around. The beach where I'd landed was not as secluded nor as welcoming as I would have liked. There was no sheltering cave in which I might find rest, no soft sand to cradle my battered body. The shingle slope rose steeply before me and at its apex, set just beyond the high tide mark, stood a lighthouse with a small stone cottage attached. 

Such structures, of course, meant only one thing. There were humans nearby.

There are tales the mothers tell as they gather each year on the moulting grounds. Stories, good and bad, of the experiences they’d lived through, the men they’d met or mated with here on the dry side. How many times had I listened, spellbound, as they spoke of them—our clever-handed cousins, so frighteningly brutal, so treacherously kind. 

The dwelling was close enough that I could see a light shining in a downstairs window. And I could both see and smell the smoke that curled from the chimney. Even with the crashing surf and the din of the gulls, I was close enough to hear a door slam shut, then the crunch of footsteps on loose stones as someone approached. And, once again, I panicked.

I'll admit to having fantasized, from time to time, about having taken one of the landwalkers as a lover. Who among us hasn’t? But I’d always intended that it stay a fantasy. I'd never actually thought to meet one in the flesh—nor, if I were to be honest, had I ever really wanted to. 

Now, however, it seemed I would have no choice. 

It was still within my power to decide as to which guise to take, however, which face to show him. And with no time to consider all the ramifications, I reached for the magic within me.

The wrenching power caught me by surprise. I may have cried out as I felt my limbs elongate, as my skull contracted, and my cracked ribs shifted and creaked. The pain—there are no words to describe it. I can only assume it was due, at least in part, to my injured state. Because otherwise, surely, one of the mothers would at least have hinted at it. It was so intense I barely noticed as my hide split open and sloughed away leaving me naked. Wet. Cold.

Mug Shot: Sea Turtle Inc Mug

 

As I mentioned last week, I just got back from South Padre Island, where I picked up this mug from Sea Turtle Inc. 

My grandson loves turtles, so I'm looking forward to taking him with us on our next trip. It's a great facility. It reminds me in a lot of ways of Shorebird Nature Center at the Berkeley Marina where I worked as a docent for many years, and which I used as one of the models for Oberon's Marine Nature Center. Excerpt from Sound of a Voice That is Still below. But first...

Ryan headed back to the center the following morning in a lighthearted mood.  It was a beautiful day, he decided as he gazed around him appreciatively.  No, a perfect day.  The sky was blue and only partly cloudy.  Butterflies floated on the breeze.  Bright blooms of yarrow and sourgrass poked their way up through the banks of ice plant that bordered the path.  And here and there, a renegade poppy was already in flower.  His dog sniffed delightedly at the fragrant air. 

Closer to the cottage, the brackish marine scents of the shoreline gave way to the softer smell of pine.  A few hardy daffodils clustered around the building’s foundation, braving the perpetual shadows cast by the surrounding trees to raise their yellow heads to the sky. 

Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.  Things were working out so much better than he’d hoped they would.  Yesterday he’d managed to defuse the potentially dangerous relationship between him and Siobhan, and for once without things blowing up in his face.  Even his leg seemed to be less troublesome than usual, despite all his recent hard work.

They’d had wonderful luck with the tank.  They’d gone to the Marina’s more protected side, by the docks where the boats were berthed, to find suitable rocks.  Many of them were encrusted with creatures he hadn’t ever seen before.  Like green and orange striped anemones, velvety red sponges, and tunicates shaped like delicate vases of translucent yellow glass.  They’d even found another sea slug—this one called a Spanish Shawl.  An enchanting little creature; magenta and sky blue with feathery, fringe-like projections of tangerine all down its back.

They’d gotten fish, too. Silvery shiner perch and smelt and a small starry flounder. 

He thought of how Siobhan had held the flounder, suspended in water, in her hand.  She’d explained how its left eye had migrated from that side of its body, over the top of its head to the other.  ²Though he’d tried hard to listen, it was her hands and her long, tapered fingers that had captivated most of his attention.

Afterwards, he’d taken her to bed.  Almost losing himself, as he had the first night, in the wonder of her.  She seemed as magical and unlikely a creature as any she’d shown him.  An impossible combination of contradictions.  So bright and dark, cool and warm, gentle and strong.  Her arms and legs had held him captive even as she’d opened herself to his invasion.  Her soft cries and the rippling contractions of her climax were a siren song he had neither wish nor will to resist.

And then he’d left her. 

Her soft, naked body had lain curled beneath a comforter of shell colored cotton—just like a hermit crab, he’d told her, surprising a sleepy, little laugh.

“A hermit crab?”  Moonlight glimmered in her eyes as she gazed up at him.  “Gee, Ryan, I don’t believe I’ve ever been compared to a crustacean before.  At least not to my face.  You’re a real charmer, you know that?”

Sound of a Voice That is Still
Oberon, Book 3.0

Buy Here: SoundVoice

Some wounds take a long time to heal, others never do.  Four months after being wounded in the line of duty, Ryan Henderson is beginning to fear that his is of the latter variety.  He's a patient man, but a poor patient.  As winter drags interminably on, he's growing desperate for distraction--anything that might take his mind off his injury, before he goes insane.

​

 Siobhan Quinn could give the injured officer a lesson or two in living with pain.  It's been ten years since her life was changed and her heart critically wounded as a result of the tragic accident that robbed her of her family.  She knows firsthand how grief can cripple a soul and drive a sane mind over the edge. 

 

Sometimes it seems like Spring will never come again.  Sometimes, the only alternative to living in inner darkness, is death.  Your own, or someone else's.  In the depths of winter, Ryan and Siobhan will have to make a choice: to help each other heal…or die trying.

Mug Shot: South Padre Mug

 

I spent several days last week on South Padre Island (and yes, there is a North Padre, apparently, except it's not called that). It was lovely and relaxing and waaaaay more humid than it is where we live so I think maybe my next visit won't be during the summer. 

The Texas beaches are very, very chill. Much more so than beaches on either the East or West Coast. Which is odd because Texas beaches give very strong Spring Break energy. Pacific Northwest beaches are chill, as well, but they have an entirely different feel to them. 

I keep thinking it's because Texas is on the Gulf of Mexico, rather than an ocean. I think it makes a big difference energy-wise. 

Mug Shot: Longhorn Mug

 

This is a mug that my husband picked out on a recent trip to Dallas. I think we found it in Buc-ee's. Hubs is a big tea drinker, but he doesn't usually care about mugs. That's why it was somewhat surprising when he decided to get this one...or, you know, any mug whatsoever. 

Maybe it shouldn't be. Thirty-some-odd-years-ago, while we were in the process of moving cross-country, he did pick up a longhorn skull that for many years hung over a procession of fireplaces. It disappeared in the course of one of our moves (as happens with far too many of my possessions--which probably accounts for my trauma response of hoarding everything).

I think this mug is giving very late eighties vibes, which might be why he likes it so much. Plus we're in Texas.  Really there's nothing else to say about this other than that I probably should save all these mugs for next year when I debut the Heartwood, TX series. 

But here's the link to the series page, if you'd like to take a look at what's coming: https://www.pgforte.com/heartwood-texas

Mug Shot: Atlas Beach Mug

 This is my Atlas Beach mug that I made to commemorate the Games We Play series.  They are available for sale, if you want one. It's been so much fun returning to my New Jersey roots for this series. The newest story drops in September as part of the Love and Espresso anthology--although, eventually I'll be releasing it on its own, and then as part of the Whole Latte Love omnibus. 

Here's a brief excerpt from Giada Mazzi is Living her Best Life, which will be available in September. 

“What are you doing in here?” my cousin Rocky demands Friday morning after nearly plowing into me with a tray of cannoli. The space between the bakery showcase and the back counter had not been designed to comfortably accommodate multiple people, especially when one of them is wielding a heavy tray of pastries and the other is holding a pot of scalding coffee. 

“You’re welcome,” I say, as I slide open the doors to the case for him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks,” he mutters, slipping the tray inside, but when he turns back to face me he’s still scowling. “Seriously, though. Why?”

“Why am I here?” With a carafe in one hand and a half-filled cup in the other, I’m not sure why he’s asking. “What’s it look like, dude? I’m getting a cup of coffee.” 

Also, why does he care? DiLuca’s Italian Bakery is a family-run business. And I’m family. So, why the hell shouldn’t I be here? And yes, technically, my last name’s not DiLuca, but my mom’s was (before she married) and my dad used to work here. Which, for the record, is how they met. 

Rocky has always been the big brother I never had and really hadn’t wanted. Mostly because of the bond he had with my father. When I was a kid, I used to think that he was closer to my old man than I would ever be. Now I’m an adult and…yeah. Turns out I was right. But that’s beside the point. The thing is, I’ve been getting my coffee here for months, ever since Joe’s shut down. So you’d think he’d be used to it by now. 

“You know we don’t actually sell coffee here,” Rocky tells me now. “Right?”

“Good thing, too. Because I’m not paying for this crap. What’s your point?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe…it would be nice if I could make myself a pot of coffee in the morning—strong, the way I like it, with maybe a little bit of cinnamon. Not the weak-as-piss bath water I always have to make for you. Not to mention that there’s usually nothing left in the pot by the time I get to it. Which also sucks.”

I roll my eyes. Lucky for him, I can take a hint as well as anyone. “Oh, stop whining. There’s plenty left,” I tell him as I fill a second cup and hand it over. “Here. All you had to do was ask.”

“Salud,” he says, as we toast each other. Then he twists his long torso around, grabs a couple of biscotti from the jar on top of the case, and hands one to me. 

I nod my thanks. He grunts in response. Then we both lean our backs against the counter and spend a nice couple of minutes crunching and sipping in companionable silence. 

But, of course, that doesn’t last long.

“So, what’s goin’ on?” he asks, looking puzzled.  “I thought the coffee shop was finally open? I figured you’d be there now, drinking one of those fancy drinks with the mile long names.”

Which I guess explains this mud I’m currently drinking. I shake my head. “Nope. Not open yet.”

“Are you sure? Because when I drove by the other day, I noticed the paper had come off the window.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Not that it matters. Because I won’t be going in there ever again.”

“Oh?” Rocky’s expression immediately hardens into the classic DiLuca scowl. “And why’s that?” 

My first impulse is to lie. But it’s a small town. He’s gonna find out, eventually. The least I can do is control the narrative. 

“Because I just found out that my ex-boyfriend is going to be working there and…it’s awkward, okay? I don’t really want to see him.”

“Boyfriend?” Rocky repeats in surprise. “Since when you got one of those?”

“Ex,” I correct him. “And what do you mean, since when?  You think I don’t date?” Although, to be fair, it is a lot less often than I’d like. 

Rocky brushes my annoyance aside. “I don’t care about dates. I don’t want to know about your sex life any more’n I want to know about my sister’s sex life. Boyfriend though, that’s a different story. How come you never brought him around to meet the family?”

“Ooh, great idea,” I tell him. “Next time I want to scare someone away, I’ll do that.”

Love And Espresso

A Limited Edition Contemporary Romance Anthology

This collection features meet-cutes that take place in a bookstore/coffee shop. The heroines are looking for their HEA but never expected it to happen while picking up a cup of coffee or picking out their next book boyfriend. 

Available for pre-order: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0CSKS814M

Includes my short novella, Giada Mazzi is Living her Best Life

"life is more than just the lies we try and tell ourselves about what we’ve done and who we are.

​

 I guess the truth is that I never stopped loving Ben. And I never stopped imagining how different my life might have been if he were only the person I needed him to be, instead of the person that he is. Which is silly, right? I mean, truly; it’s laughable. Because if he were someone else, he wouldn’t be him.  And the world is already full of people like that. What good is one more gonna do me?

​

Besides, if I’m honest, Ben wasn’t ever the problem. That was me. I was never the person he believed me to be. Oh, I thought I was, in the beginning. I tried hard to be, and that worked for a while. Sort of. But eventually I reached the point where I had to make a choice between living life for myself, or for everyone else.

​

And when it came right down to that…how could I not choose me?"

Cover Reveal! Spicy Nick--releases this December!

I'm excited for this book, which is set to take place the same Christmas as my short story, I'll Be Home for Christmas, which will also be releasing in December. THAT story is very paranormal. It was HUGE fun to write and it DOES have a happy ending, but the H/H get short-changed on a lot of the fun and all of the sexytimes.

This "companion book" reverses that. It's pretty much all fun and sexytimes. Although I certainly would never rule out the appearance of an angel or two. It's Christmas in Oberon, after all!

Spicy Nick

Part of the Naughty List
An Oberon Christmas Story

It’s beginning to look a lot like NIX-mas!

 Nick Greco is getting worried. His wife has never been a big fan of the holiday season, but this year she seems more distant than ever before. In fact, the last time that he can remember seeing her this distracted was right before their wedding—when she tried to back out of marrying him.

 Can you get cold feet after the fact? Is Scout feeling overwhelmed by the holidays? Or underwhelmed by…gulp…him?

 Whatever the cause, Nick has a plan. He’s going to spice up their marriage and put the heat back in the holidays. And when he’s done, Scout won’t be saying, “Bah Humbug!” She’ll be saying, “ho, ho…OH!”

​Now available for pre-order. Scheduled for release December 8, 2024 as part of The Naughty List collection.

https://books2read.com/Spicy-Nick