Hey all, I’m still deeeeeeeeeep in deadline heck and my brain is too fried to conjure up anything to say.
So I thought I’d do a couple of things. First, share a few pics from my birthday celebration of last week. (Yes, Bruce outdid himself, as my feeling-so-much-better-back can testify. Knowing I don’t feel comfortable getting professional massages, he bought me a gorgeous, professional massage table. And then set about using it, complete with hot stones. The man could make a fortune offering house-visit massage treatments!)
Anyway, that night, he and the kids had presents and cake and balloons and banners for me. Hilarious. Capped off with…a silly string fight in my family room! 
The floors survived. The dogs not so much. But oh, what a wonderful day! (And the weekend in D.C. was the perfect finisher!)
I also thought I’d share this gorgeous new cover for my July Blaze, SLOW HANDS. Hot, eh? And you know what I noticed and loved the most? MY HERO HAS CHEST HAIR! lolol! Usually romance novel heroes look like bodybuilders who wax their chests. Not this guy–he’s realistic and totally hot. And I couldn’t be happier.
And now, to celebrate my hot new cover, how about a hot little excerpt to whet your appetite for this June release? This is book 1 of a two book miniseries called The Wrong Bed…Again And Again! They’re both about two bachelors sold at a charity auction. In this book, the hero, a super-adorable blue-collar hunk has been mistaken for an international gigolo. And neither he nor the heroine have figured out the mix-up yet.
Hope you enjoy…wish me luck on the book!
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“So who was he?” Jake asked, not even looking into her eyes as he reached for his beer.
“Who was who?”
“The guy who gave you such a negative outlook on love.”
He wondered for a moment if she would take offense, but her soft laughter told him she hadn’t. “Uh, remember who you’re talking to? Jason Turner’s daughter sitting over here?”
Jake had brought his mug to his mouth but hadn’t yet sipped. He slowly lowered it. “Your father is the one who convinced you you’re better off being alone?”
“For the most part.” Her eyes shifted, she wasn’t telling the whole story, but at least she was opening up a little.
He wasn’t willing to risk her shutting down by pushing into areas she didn’t want to discuss. Still, she’d brought it up–again. She’d mentioned her father’s romantic issues during their walk. “Just because he’s had some bad luck?”
“I’ve seen my father fall in and out of love so many times the word has simply lost its meaning. I’ve come to realize he’s in love with being in love.” Her mouth twisted. “Then there’s Tabby, my sister.”
The name hinted at what she was probably like. “Older or younger?”
“Older. Divorced once, on her second engagement since. She hasn’t quite nailed down that true love thing, either, though not for lack of trying. A lot.”
“And what about Madeleine?”
“Not interested.”
“Not even a chance you’re wrong about that, huh?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Not worth it.”
He pointed to her glass. “It’s more than half full.”
She pointed to his. “Yours is almost empty.”
“Easily remedied.” Reaching for the half-pitcher, he topped off his mug. “See? It’s all in your perspective.”
Maddy frowned in pessimism, though he’d swear he saw a hint of unguarded humor in her eyes. It was quickly gone and her manner returned to aloof, unaffected, unmoved. “Perspective doesn’t change fact. And I really don’t know why we’re even talking about this. We’re here, together, because of a charity obligation, not out of any real interest or…” her voice faltered for the first time, “…attraction.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Her pulse fluttered visibly in her throat.
“I am incredibly attracted to you.” He knew he risked scaring her off again, but could be nothing but honest. There was no way he could allow her to go on believing he was only here because she’d bid on him at some charity event. “In case that kiss earlier didn’t clue you in, let me give it to you straight: I have wanted you since I spotted you from behind the curtains the other night at the auction.”
For the second time since he’d known her, Jake had managed to shock Maddy speechless. She stared at him, blinking a few times, her mouth open but no sounds coming out.
Why the hell she should be surprised, he had no idea. She had to have seen the lust in his eyes the night they met, before he’d realized she wouldn’t appreciate any kind of obvious come-ons and gotten himself under control. And the woman was sexy enough to make a ninety year old beg his doctor for a year’s supply of Viagra.
Yet she seemed entirely oblivious to it.
Color washed through her beautiful cheeks. Maddy’s lips parted as she breathed across them and even from across the table he could see the way her chest moved with each deep inhalation.
His body reacted. The lazy hunger that had been flowing through his veins focused in tighter, right in his crotch. “You can’t tell me you didn’t realize it.”
She swallowed, shaking her head. “I did. But I just assumed you were being…that you were used to making women feel like you wanted them, because, you know, I’d bid so much.” Regaining some confidence, she leaned over and accused him with one hard stare. “You haven’t looked at me that way all day today.”
“Did you not notice that I almost tore a guy’s head off because he looked at you that way.”
“That’s different. He was drunk and stupid and…”
“Porcine?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not a pig. I’m a gentleman.” Tension snapping between them, he leaned closer, keeping his voice low and intimate. Raking a hot glance over her, he admitted, “And a gentleman doesn’t come right out on a first date and tell a woman he wants to smother her beautiful nipples in sugar and then suck every bit of sweetness right out of her until she’s begging to be taken.”
She gasped, but he was too far gone. Both his mouth…and his body, which was now rock-hard beneath the table. “And it wouldn’t have been terribly polite of me to tell you I’ve been wondering all day what color panties you have on. Whether it’s a thong, whether the curves of your ass are really as round and soft as I think they are.”
“Jake….”
“Or that if I fell into your incredible breasts and smothered to death, I’d die with a smile on my face.”
“Oh my.”
“Or that when I touched your leg this afternoon, all I could think of was how slim your thighs are. How easily my hands would wrap around them. How amazing it would be to lift them over my shoulders, getting the best possible angle so I could plunge into you, hard, and fill you so completely you feel like you’re gonna break in half.”
“Holy shit,” someone said.
It wasn’t her.
Sanity returned as he realized their waitress stood beside the table, wide-eyed, pink-cheeked. And all ears. “Wow, hot stuff, if she says no, you can have my number!”
The young woman appeared entirely serious. Which didn’t help things, judging by the way the woman sitting across from him narrowed her eyes and clenched her arms tightly around her chest. Small wonder…he’d verbally molested her in front of witnesses. Some fricking gentleman.
“Jesus, Maddy…”
“We’re finished,” she snapped, almost launching herself to her feet. She threw a fistful of cash down on the table, ignoring the waitress, who still watched them, and not sparing Jake another glance.
She didn’t even wait for him, or look to see if he was following. Instead, without another word, she wove her way through the crowd toward the door, not looking left or right, her dark ponytail bouncing against her stiff shoulders with every step.
Oh, God, had he ever screwed this up.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to the waitress.
“Don’t apologize. I think I just came a little.”
Jake closed his eyes and shook his head, about as embarrassed as he’d ever been in his life. Heaven help him if his sisters–or worse, his father–ever heard about this. Talk about not treating a lady right. He’d blown it, starting with the sex talk that had been overheard, and ending with her throwing down a small fortune to pay for dinner, when he would never have let her pick up the tab.
Wanting to run out of the place, he settled for a fast walk. He hit the front door with both palms and strode outside, half-expecting to see Maddy’s tail lights as she zipped her tiny sports car out of the parking lot, dumping his butt right here at the bar.
But her car remained on the far side of the lot, where she’d parked it. He hadn’t gotten more than a half-dozen steps toward it in the warm evening air when he was grabbed. Two hands bunched in the front of his T-shirt and pushed him. Jake stumbled over his own feet until he was backed against the dark, shadowy side of the old brick building.
“Maddy…”
“Shut up.” Her eyes sparked and her breaths were choppy as she glared up at him. She looked ready to hit him.
Instead, she did something far more unexpected. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed that hot body against his, and caught his mouth in a deep, hard kiss.
She wasn’t angry. The ice princess was on fire.
It’s available for super-early pre-order, if you’re interested.
), Don and I have been on a major deep cleaning spree. We’re decluttering, consolidating, and literally cleaning the house from the ceilings down to the floors — and it’s taken us WEEKS to accomplish. 
Thank God we painted the inside of our house with a semi-gloss paint, because it has made such a huge difference in the cleaning process. Oh, and 409 multi-purpose cleaner has become my very favorite cleaner of choice. I think we’ve gone through two gallons of the stuff, and it cleans and lifts dirt/grime/grease like nothing else I’ve ever used. So, a big thumbs up to 409! 
So, I took them outside and sprayed them with . . . you guessed it . . . 409 cleaner, and the dirt/dust/grime just melted away. A quick spray with the hose and they looked sparkling clean and good as new. I love silk plants — they’re no fuss, they don’t require water or fertilizer, you don’t have to talk to them, and most importantly, they don’t DIE when they’re neglected. 
And over the past three years Don has cared for, and nurtured, this one plant that sits on the window sill in our kitchen where it can absorb some sun during the day. This plant has thrived and grown - - just with a few waterings a week and an occasional splash of coffee. Don carefully picks off the old dying leaves, and when it started to become this monster plant that threatened to take over our entire window sill, he had to put a stake in the pot and make sure that all the branches had something to twist around and climb up on. Don is very proud of his plant, and rightly so. It really is a pretty plant, which I admire from afar, because my thumb is black as death and I’m certain that one touch from me and it would wither and croak. 
I even told Don that when he goes to Oregon, he has to take the plant with him — I refuse to be responsible for keeping it alive. I can’t imagine living with the guilt if it died while he was gone — especially after he’s taken such good care of it for three years now! 
Today, Isabel is going to talk about pet peeves she’s developed after judging unpublished contests. We’re going to be talking about contests a bit in future months, so this post is PERFECT TIMING. Thanks for posting, Isabel!!! She has a 
