Wednesday, February 20, 2013

The Importance of Backing Up

Welcome Melissa Fox to Tattered Pages today, who brings with her a very interesting post about electronic malfunctions. Melissa, after reading this post, I think you absolutely MUST include these incidents in a story. You MUST! How completely bizarre! LOL

Thank you AJ, for having me visit Tattered Pages today! 

My husband and I exist in some kind of weird electrical black hole. The man can put out streetlights like no one I’ve ever met. We just drive down the road, and at least one blinks out as we go under. This happens with enough regularity not to be coincidence and has for years and years—ever since I’ve known him.

He can’t buy electronics, like sound systems or TVs. He does the research and picks out what he wants, but I have to actually make the purchase. We learned that lesson after returning brand new component after component that refused to work for no known reason. Even his car when we were in college. The electronic dashboard stopped working one day, which made for guessing speed and how much gas was left an exhilarating game. And the brand new one he bought right from the dealer to replace it when he graduated? The windshield wipers refused to work during the first big downpour after he got it. I buy all the cars now, too.

Me, on the other hand, I’m a computer death ray. Hard drives take one look at me and faint like a Margaret Mitchell heroine. I buy a new computer, and one month, one week, six months later…all gone. Everything. For no apparent reason. Doesn’t seem to matter what kind. Brand new PC, top of the line technology—dead in less than a year. Replacement? That lasted just over, waiting until the warranty expired by about three days. So, off to the Apple store I go, and you guessed it. Two months later, I’m back, with a laptop that mocks me with a gray screen.


What my mis-adventures taught me is to back up, all the time, every night. That, and the time I accidentally hit “replace” and saved the wrong file, losing the last twenty thousand words of the manuscript I just finished, but that’s another story. I back up to an external hard drive with Time Machine and use a program to save from my laptop to the desktop PC (still pretty much fried and only used for browsing and playing games) and an online location. Every night, before I go to bed, I copy my “Stories” file to a flash drive. That clammy, cold sweat, hot flash, stomach-tumbling, nausea-inducing feeling of losing hours, months, years of work is nothing I ever want to experience again, so the paranoia and extra effort is worth it.

Do you have a nightmare story of losing important files?

Demon-slayer Conor O’Shea is about to engage in the most dangerous encounter of his life—facing the woman he scorned.
For years, Merry Bradbury's world revolved around Conor O'Shea. After his sudden betrayal leaves her alone and heartbroken, she comes home to settle her past and move into the future. The last person she expects to see is Conor.
Conor never wanted anything more than forever with Merry. Discovering he is a Wraith warrior, honor bound to fight demons, destroys that plan. Merry is his Amorta, his one true soul mate, but he leaves to keep her safe from the evil that stalks him.
Eight years later, Conor's worst fear is realized, and he returns to defend Merry from his enemies. Can he save her from an unspeakable fate and reclaim her heart? And if he does, will Merry be able to accept all that he is?  


“Stay here,” Conor told her. “Don’t move, no matter what you see. No matter what happens, Merry. Stay right here.”

He waited until she nodded her assent before he turned. The woman hissed, and his shoulders rolled as he took a step toward her. Merry’s eyes grew round when long-bladed weapons appeared in his hands.

“Wraith,” the woman snarled, lowering herself into a half-crouch.

The wicked blades twisted in his hands to point in her direction. He took another step toward the redhead, unnaturally swift but pure and beautiful in his power.

“Go now,” he said in a quiet, even tone. “And I’ll let you live one more day."

The woman’s attention left him for an instant to settle on Merry, her eyes narrowing with speculation. A slow, feline smile curved her red lips.

“You think you can protect her,” she purred. “How sweet. I’m going to find out if she is as delicious as she smells after I’m done with you. 

Melissa is hosting a GIVE-AWAY!

Author Bio:
After being rationed books by my parents like most kids get rationed candy, I turned to writing to tide me over between fixes. Having lived in the suburbs of the Mid-West, desert of the Southwest, foothills of the Rocky Mountains, I’m now on an island in the Puget Sound with my husband and dogs.
My debut paranormal romance, WRAITH REDEEMED, is now available in print and all e-formats from The Wild Rose Press.

The Wild Rose Press
Barnes & Noble

Here's where you can find Melissa on the web: Twitter Website Facebook Goodreads

Thanks for being my guest today!

Monday, February 18, 2013

Flappers, Flasks and Foul Play!

I'm totally psyched to have my friend and fellow author Ellen Mansoor Collier at Tattered Pages today, who brings with her a peek inside her latest release, Flappers, Flasks and Foul Play. I'm reading it now, and I'm here to tell ya' -- this one's a keeper! So, so good!
"Boardwalk Empire" meets "The Great Gatsby" in this soft-boiled "Jazz Age" mystery, inspired by actual events. Prohibition is in full swing in 1920s Galveston, Texas: the "Sin City of the Southwest." Jasmine Cross, a young society reporter, feels caught between two clashing cultures: the seedy speakeasy underworld and the snooty social circles she covers in the Galveston Gazette.

During a night out with her best friend, Jazz witnesses a bar fight at the Oasis--a speakeasy secretly owned by her black-sheep half-brother, Sammy Cook. But when a big-shot banker with a hidden past collapses there and later dies, she suspects foul play. Was it an accident or murder?

Soon new Prohibition Agent James Burton raids the Oasis, threatening to shut it down if Sammy doesn't talk. Suspicious, he pursues Jazz, but she refuses to rat on Sammy. As turf wars escalate between two real-life rival gangs, Sammy is accused of murder. To find the killer, Jazz must risk her life and career, exposing the dark side of Galveston's glittering society.

A loud bang sounded, a crash, a door cracking. Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs and three men in dark suits entered the Oasis, holding badges. Their guns raised high, the trio circled the room like Wild West lawmen. We had no place to hide. A stocky man shoved Dino against the wall and for once, he didn’t fight back. Sammy must have warned him to be on his best behavior. Frank crept towards the back like a spy, trying to disappear into the woodwork. I’d never been in a raid before, but I’d seen them on news reels. My heart throbbed in my chest as I braced myself for the worst: What if we all got arrested and thrown in jail?
“Federal Agent James Burton, Treasury Department. Don’t move and no one will get hurt!” yelled the tallest of the trio. Over six feet, he wore a fancy three-piece beige suit and felt hat. I didn’t know flatfoots got paid so well.

Cool as ice, Sammy sauntered out from the kitchen, smiling at the men as if they were regulars. “Welcome! How can I help you gentlemen?”

“You can tell us where you keep your booze,” Burton said, scanning the room.

“Booze? You’re in the wrong place, boys. All we serve here is good food and soda pop.” Sammy wiped his hands on a dirty red apron he’d thrown on for effect. “Hungry? How about today’s special—home-made spaghetti?”

“We need a drink to quench our thirst,” said Burton. “On the rocks, since we’re on duty.”

Sammy feigned surprise—not a bad job of acting for an amateur. “How about root beer or a Coke? The only cold drinks we serve here are soda pop. We’re bone dry.”

“That’s not what we heard—Mr. Cook, is it? We hear this place is full of hooch.”

I held my breath, trying to quell a bad case of the screaming meemies. How’d he know Sammy’s name? Who mentioned any hooch? Agent Burton and his men slid between the tables, his eyes dancing back and forth, studying each customer, as if memorizing their faces.

A burly cop in glasses pointed to an older bald man cowering in his chair. “You there! What’s that poison you’re drinking?”

“It’s lemonade,” the man stammered. “I swear.”

“Looks like a cocktail to me.” The agent stuck his finger in the glass, tasted it, then threw it down. Glass splintered into tiny slivers as liquid seeped into the wood floor....

Dropping his friendly facade, Sammy marched over to Burton, his boots crunching on broken glass. “I told you it’s a diner, not a bar. Leave him alone. Who do you think you are?”

“Like I said, name’s Burton,” he said, as if talking to a dim-witted child. “I’m the new head of Galveston’s Prohibition enforcement office.” He held up his badge like a shiny trophy. The two men were polar opposites: With his tanned skin and thick honey-blond hair, Burton resembled a golden retriever ready to attack a Doberman. No contest, if you ask me.

“You’re wasting your time here. No need to harass my help or my customers.”

“Seems your customers must like to play rough.” Burton tapped his own cheekbone, indicating Sammy’s black eye.

I nudged Nathan under the table, impressed by Sammy’s bravado. But maybe this wasn’t the best time to question authority. His big mouth could earn him a fat lip.              

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Nathan. My throat was so dry, I could barely speak.

“Who knows? Never been invited to a raid before.”

Burton must have heard us because he strode over to our table, and draped an arm over my chair. “Evening, ma’am. What’s a classy dish like you doing in this crummy gin mill?”

How dare he! “Get your hands off me!” I shrugged off his arm, shoulders stiff. He backed away, surprised. Up close, I noticed how young he was, late twenties, face smooth and tanned.

Nathan stood up, a full head shorter than Burton. “Back off, buster. Leave my date alone.” Obviously Burton’s gun and badge failed to impress Nathan. What he lacked in stature, he made up for with attitude.

“Your date?” Agent Burton smiled. “Lucky guy.” He took a sip from my cup, then spit it out.

“If you’d asked nicely, I could’ve told you it was Coca-Cola.” Watch it, Jazz. In school, I’d often gotten in trouble for talking back to my teachers, but they hadn’t carried a badge or a loaded gun.

“Excuse my manners, miss. I can’t resist a pretty face and a smart mouth.”

And now for a bit about this very talented author:

Ellen Mansoor Collier is a Houston-based freelance writer/editor whose articles, essays and short stories have been published in several national magazines.She graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a degree in Magazine Journalism, and was active in Women in Communications (W.I.C.I.), serving as president her senior year. FLAPPERS is her debut novel, and she’s currently working on the sequel, BATHING BEAUTIES, BOOZE AND BULLETS, due out this Spring.
Here's where you can find Ellen on the web:
Website | Goodreads
And here's where you can find her most excellent book! Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

Thanks for stopping in and thanks for being my guest today, Ellen!!


Tuesday, February 12, 2013

An Interview with Rachel Brimble

It's my utmost pleasure to host Harlequin author, dear friend and agency mate, Rachel Brimble, to Tattered Pages today, who spoils us with some information about her busy life, her latest release and those WIPs! 

Let's start by asking, of the characters you've created, which one is your favorite and why?

I couldn't possibly choose a character because I love them all in different ways, BUT I am usually in love with the main character of the book I am working on at any one time. At the moment, my heroine is a Victorian prostitute trying for a better life. I just love Laura. She is so determined and feisty, yet has a heart of gold. She makes me very happy :)
My favorite setting, however, is Templeton Cove where my novels for Harlequin take place. As I'm planning books three and four, the entire town and community have now become very real and very dear to me. I really hope I can keep adding more and more stories to the series because I can't imagine every saying good bye to the town now!
I'm always falling in love with my characters, too! They become so real, don't they? What are you working on now?
I am just coming to the end of the first draft for my second Victorian romance for E-Kensington. I hope to have it finished, polished and submitted to my agent by the end of February. In addition to that, I am plotting my next romantic suspense for Harlequin Superromance - this will be the third book in the series. I'm very excited about it! :D
Love it! So, after finishing a manuscript, do you take some time off or dive right in to the next story?

Time off? Time off? What's that?? LOL!!
Seriously, I dive straight back in - more often than not, I'm working on more than one project. I love working this way because it gives me somewhere to redirect my attention when I hit a stumbling block. I often find working on something else (especially a different sub-genre), frees my mind and when I resume work on the 'halted' book, I know exactly where I went wrong. There's method in my madness, honestly!
There are never enough hours in the day, are there? But that's a great strategy! What’s on your nightstand (or downloaded onto your Kindle) right now?

Right now, I am reading the debut novel of my dear, sweet friend from the UK - Alexandra Brown's Cupcakes at Carringtons. Just fabulous! I'm also reading the huge bonkbuster of the 1980s, Lace by Shirley Conran. I can't believe I missed this the first time round. Such a great, epic story :)
Uhhh...sounds like two books I need to check out! What about hobbies? What are your favorite things to do besides writing?

I love to knit, read and walk my beloved black Labrador, Max - I am also thinking of taking up an American history course as I'm obsessed with all things American despite being a Brit, living in the UK. Hence why I write for the US market!
Thank you so much for this peek inside Rachel's world!! And now on with the show!
Old friends, new secrets 

Sergeant Cat Forrester lives by her own set of rules. When her childhood friend is murdered, Cat's world is thrown into chaos. Especially because Jay Garrett-a man from her past-is a suspect, and he needs her help to prove he's innocent. After all they once shared, how can she say no? 
The attraction flares between them, and getting involved with a suspect is a huge risk. But the more time Cat spends with Jay, the stronger the tug on her heart. He is the same caring, irresistible man she remembers. Yet she can't let her emotions interfere with the case-solving it is top priority. And as she digs deeper, she discovers Jay has secrets that may jeopardize any possible future together.
“I need your help, Cat. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.”
The timbre of despair in his voice alerted her to grief. Loss. She heard it loud and clear. It didn’t matter whether the speaker was male or female, young or old. When you lost someone before you should, it always sounded the same. She was trained to recognize it--personally and professionally. To listen and help. To alleviate others’ pain and hide her own. She stopped pacing and tightened her grip on the receiver.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Sarah.”
Her mind whirled back seven years ago to the last time she and her family took their annual holiday to Templeton Cove. A picturesque town situated amongst the spectacular “English Riviera” region of South West England. The place Jay and his family had lived for generations.
“Sarah? Is she okay?” Cold dread seeped into Cat’s blood, making goose bumps erupt on her arms. “Jay?”
“She’s dead, Cat. Murdered.”
She sucked in a breath as a lump of stone dropped into her abdomen. “What?”
“You need to come to the Cove. Investigate her death. The police here aren’t getting anywhere.” His shaky breath rasped down the line. “I’m a suspect, Cat. You have to help me. You have to help me show them--”
“Wait. You’re a suspect?” How could good, kind-hearted Jay Garrett be a suspect in a murder investigation? The Jay she remembered always smiled, laughed and kissed with lips that could lead a girl into all sorts of trouble…
“Please tell me you’re the detective you always swore you would be. You have to help me. I need you.”
He needs me. After all this time. “Jay, listen to me. If you’re a suspect, what happened? Cops do not go around accusing people--”
“The cops are walking around like their bloody heads are cut off.  Sarah’s parents are waiting for them to release her body while the police point the finger at me rather than the real killer. I feel trapped, Cat. You’ve got to come to the Cove.”

Rachel lives with her husband and two young daughters in a small town near Bath in the UK. After having several novels published by small US presses, she secured agent representation in 2011. In 2012, she sold two books to Harlequin Superromance. She also writes Victorian romance for Kensington--her debut was released in April 2013.

Rachel is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America. When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Rachel with her head in a book or walking the beautiful English countryside with her family and beloved black Lab, Max. Her dream place to live is Bourton-on-the-Water in South West England…although she hopes a dream visit to Canada might just change her mind!
She likes nothing more than connecting and chatting with her readers and fellow romance writers. Rachel would love to hear from you!

Friday, February 8, 2013

Careful...this one's a little steamy...

Hang onto your hats, ladies, it's a face-melter!
I just received the cover for my new contemporary romance
She's Got Dibs
scheduled to be released soon from

That's right...go ahead and enjoy the view.
And the guy's not bad either.
It was designed by the beautiful, brilliant and abundantly talented
Thank you, sweet pea! XOXO
As soon as the release date is scheduled, I'll be posting around the globe!

Saturday, February 2, 2013

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye...

So I just recently sent off my last round edits on a contemporary romantic comedy I have been working on for five years. I originally wrote She’s Got Dibs way back when I first decided to become a published author. Oh, the bliss of ignorance. At that point in my career, I freely admit I had no idea what I was doing. All that mattered was the process of writing, sitting down at the keyboard and getting my thoughts into some sort of cohesive plot from start to finish.

As luck would have it, I sent the story to my publisher and it was assigned to a newly acquired editor who loved it—bless her heart. However, once she sent in a contract request to her Sr. Editor, the manuscript was returned to me with a request for revisions. No big surprise now that I’ve become privy to the myriad rules governing the elusive craft of writing.

I glomed onto my editor’s advice, rewrote and resubmitted the story, thinking a contract offer was just around the corner. The submission was sent back for more revisions, so I dove in again, rewrote and resubmitted…only to have it returned to me a third time. Still too long. Still not enough focus. Still too much extra fluff that needed to come out.

To be honest, I’ve lost track of how many times I rewrote and resubmitted this one (I’m guessing five or six times), and would have probably given up and stuck the story in a file on my hard drive had it not been for the unwavering support and belief of my editor. She truly championed this story…sometimes even more than me.  

But this post isn’t about the dogged perseverance any new author must exemplify once they’ve decided to dive headfirst into the bottomless chasm of publishing. It’s about what happened to me during those five years.
My son went from a shy, glasses-wearing 2nd grader to a hulking, Jr. High man-child who races dirt bikes, has a FaceBook page, and knows how to work the electronics in my home better than me. He’s also my “go-to” guy whenever I can’t get the pickle jar open. The kid has hands the size of a yeti. My daughter grew from a one-year-old baby into an artistic fourth grader who plays the scores of Andrew Lloyd Webber on the piano, writes, edits and posts her own videos on YouTube, and comes home each afternoon with stories of the “drama” that happen amongst her classmates during recess. You want great ideas for twisting plot turns? Spend the afternoon dissecting the relationship dynamics of a fourth grade girl. You will emerge the other side a changed person. My husband and I saw our home-based business through a recession (hopefully), he learned to fly a powered parachute and I became an agented author and full-time editor.

Throughout all this, the characters in She’s Got Dibs were with me. Whenever I needed an escape from reality they were there, patiently waiting for me to bring them into sharper focus, deepen their commitment or write a snappy line of dialogue. They became good friends of mine. I began to think of them as real people, with real issues, fighting their way through to their happily ever after.

So while the goal of each author is to take those folks we spend our time creating and send them out into the world for others to enjoy, and I can admit a huge sense of satisfaction and relief accompanied my hitting the SEND button, I also must confess …I am deeply saddened to see these folks go on their merry way. After accepting the last of my editor’s requested changes, I got in the bathtub...and sobbed. Like…sobbed. Then I spent the remainder of the day walking around in a fog.
Was I really done? Did my two dear friends seriously just smile and wink, wave goodbye and disappear into the ether? How could that be? What about their tomorrow…or the next day? What about their future, for crying out loud? How could they just leave me like that? Didn’t they realize how close we’d become? Did they even care?

While I know that, yes, the only true way to get over this leave-taking is to craft another story—and I have been doing just that—I also have to wonder. Just how crazy am I? Is it time I called my physician and begged for Prozac? Perhaps I should forgo pharmaceuticals entirely and proceed (do not pass go, do not collect $200) to the nearest mental healthcare facility? Am I the only writer out there who undergoes a grieving process at the completion of a story? Your advice would be greatly appreciated.   

Friday, February 1, 2013

Heroines...what's your stance?

I am thrilled to have Joanne Stewart, author extraordinaire and agency mate, visiting Tattered Pages today. And I LOVE this post. Love it. It speaks to me on several different levels. If you're an an author like me and Joanne...heck, even if you're not..I wonder...what is YOUR favorite type of heroine? Leave us a comment and let us know. Oh, and do yourself a favor and scroll down to the excerpt. Whoot! LOL

Take it away, Joanne!
If you’ve ever read one of my books, you’ll know I don’t write feisty heroines. In fact, my heroines tend to be the exact opposite. They tend to be the quiet girls. Bookworms. Geeks. Shy girls. The type of people who usually get overlooked. I prefer them, because, well, they’re more like me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I like the kickass heroine. It’s kind of fun to be in the shoes of someone strong, who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself and say to hell with what others think. In fact, I wrote one. Becca Morgan from Winning Becca. She hasn’t gotten published yet. She’s still sitting with my agent, waiting to be edited. But Becca is a third degree black belt in karate and she isn’t afraid to stand up to the likes of the hero, Jackson Kade. I had fun watching Jackson break down her defenses. I’m also partial to Vonnie’s Evie from Those Violet Eyes and Jezzy from AJ Nuest’s Jezebel’s Wish. And no. I’m not just tooting their horns because I like them. Both books blew me away. If you haven’t read them, you should! (Okay, LOVE JOANNE! LOVE HER! LOL THANKS, TOOTS!)

Back to my point (I’m a yapper once you get me going)… despite all that, I’m still more partial to seeing poor, picked on, overworked and under-appreciated Cinderella get her prince. I was that shy girl once. Unsure of herself, quiet, positive she just didn’t make the grade. I certainly wasn’t popular and I was definitely on the dorky side. lol So, I like to see the little guy or girl get his or her man (or woman).

That’s the type of heroine you’ll find in my books. The girls usually passed up. The wounded women who have fears and secrets they don’t want made public. The ones who often suffer in silence. The heroine of Her Knight in Black Leather, Cat Edwards, is a woman like that. She’s shy and quiet, a bookworm who works in her father’s small bookstore. She’s grown up with a self-absorbed mother who had an infamous reputation and Cat grew up fending off advances from guys who assumed she was exactly like her mother. Cat learned to fade into the wallpaper. She and I are a lot alike in that respect. I spent my life playing the part of the wallflower, so writing her was very easy, because in a lot of ways, she is me.

 Cat meets the hero in the town bar. She’s been dragged there by her best friend. She’s supposed to be having fun, but feeling twice her age and way over her head….


“Follow my lead.” His voice flowed against her ear, rich and smooth and darkly sensual. The kind of voice she could well imagine whispering to her in the dark. It added to the stubble prickling her cheek and, for a moment, her mind twisted off in another direction, filling with naughty fantasies. Suddenly she was dying to see the face behind the voice.

Louder he said, “Miss me?”

Velvet soft lips brushed her earlobe as he spoke, combined with the deep, sensual quality of his voice and sent delicious shivers slipping down her spine. For a moment, Cat forgot to breathe, forgot what in the world she was supposed to be doing. Somewhere through the haze that took over her mind, his meaning finally occurred to her. Her body went limp with relief. She had the sudden urge to turn and hug the man. Chivalry hadn’t died with King Arthur after all.

“You’re late.” Playing her part, she straightened on her stool and reached back to twine her fingers with his. Soft, thick fingers that filled her overheated mind with visions of them sliding over her skin.

The clod’s hand finally released her thigh, and Cat swallowed a sigh of relief then spun to face her savior. “You were supposed to be here...”

Her train of thought derailed as she came face to face with the center of a broad chest. A thickly muscled chest barely contained by the black T-shirt covering it. Her heart skipped several beats as she followed the muscles upward, past even wider shoulders, until her gaze collided with a pair of dark brown eyes that made her breath catch.

Oh boy. She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard. A five o’clock shadow covered a strong, square jaw, giving him a rough and rugged edge. His thick, almost black, hair licked at the collar of his worn leather jacket, just long enough to be rebellious, and tousled by the wind. Her fingers itched to reach up and slide through his hair to see if it felt as soft as it seemed.

“Forgive me.” As he bent down to her eye level, his eyes burned into hers, a hidden meaning in the dark depths she couldn’t quite grasp. She couldn’t concentrate much past the fact his face was now a scant inch from hers. His soft, warm breath fanned her lips, and her gaze zeroed in on the mouth that had sent delicious sensations thrumming through her body barely a minute ago.

Before she could ponder what on earth he meant or come up with a proper response, he took their charade a step further.

He kissed her.


Cat Edwards has spent her life playing the wallflower in an effort to escape the repressive weight of her mother’s tarnished name. Dragged to a bar by her best friend in an effort to forget a broken heart, the shy bookworm is determined to be someone else for the night, but quickly gets in over her head. She discovers chivalry isn’t dead after all when a mysterious stranger comes to her rescue. He’s wearing black leather and a mischievous smile that promises to be exactly what she needs.

When his terminally ill father suffers a setback, Michael Brant returns to the town he swore ten years ago he’d never return to. He’s come back this time determined to make peace with the past, but being home brings up memories he doesn’t want to remember anymore. His first night in town, he’s captured by a damsel in distress. Cat’s beauty is made all the more alluring when he realizes she has no idea who he is. He can’t resist spending a single night in her arms. With her, he’s only a man, disconnected from his family’s name and the past that haunts him here.

As the town erupts with the news of his return, Michael’s dark past comes back to haunt him, putting Cat in danger. Someone is threatening her life and the life of her family. Desperate to keep history from repeating itself, Michael offers her his family’s name in order to keep her safe. When the lie spirals beyond their control, can they stop their hearts from becoming entangled as well?  

About the author:

J.M. Stewart writes sweet and heartwarming contemporary romance with a touch of passion. She’s a wife, a mother, a spiritualist, and lover of puppies, and happily addicted to coffee and chocolate. She lives in the Great Rainy Northwest with her husband of sixteen years and their two sons. She’s a hopeless romantic who believe everybody should have their happily-ever-after and has been devouring romance novels for as long as she can remember. Writing them has become her passion.

Where you can find Joanne on the web:

Buy link: