Book feature

BOOK FEATURE: “How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie”

June 4, 2015 Leave a Comment

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“How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie” by Gina Henning

Blurb:

A scrumptious pie. A long distance guy. 4th of July fireworks guaranteed.

Lauren Hauser has it all…nearly. With a shiny new job and sparkly new engagement ring on her finger, the only thing she’s missing is her gorgeous new fiancé by her side. Should she be worried? Jack’s kisses are as sizzling as always and, sure, long distance is hard but, she and Jack are solid, right?

Of course the stress of planning a wedding—or not—is nothing compared to the stress of baking an apple pie. Because it’s not just any apple pie that Lauren must bake for the 4th of July contest; it’s her grandmother’s famous, award-winning apple pie! Yet Lauren is determined to make this pie her own and a little apple pie should be no problem for the Hauser clan dessert queen…!

But with her new job taking up so much time, a prize pie to perfect and the growing distance between her and Jack, Lauren begins to wonder if she can really have it all… Only one things for sure, there’ll be fireworks this 4th of July!

EXCERPT

The timer buzzes on my oven. I pop open the door and a delicious apple pie is staring back at me. I inhale. Wow, apple pie has got be one of the best scents ever. I take in another long whiff. Yum. I pull the pie out of the oven and set it on my countertop. I’m supposed to FaceTime with Jack at any minute. Tingles of excitement dance along my arms. I was hoping my pie would turn out and now I can show Jack that it has. He’ll probably want to hop on the next plane and feed it to me. Mmm…Jack and apple pie, the perfect dessert.

My phone vibrates from the counter. A text message from Jack flashes.

“Something came up at work. I’ll call you when I get home.”

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**Buy “How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie” now!: Amazon – US Amazon – UK Nook Google Play Kobo iBooks

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**About author, Gina Henning:

Gina Henning currently resides where bluebonnets line the highways in the spring, but she prefers the rock flower anemone from under the sea. Above the ocean’s surface Gina likes to dance with her three boys and travel to exotic places like the grocery store with her husband. Her pooch Schatzi is a mix between German Shepherd and possibly pig. One of Gina’s favorite pastimes is running. She recently completed her one-and-done marathon. At the end of the day her glass of wine is always half-full.

**Contact Gina: Website Facebook Twitter

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**GIVEAWAY**

Click HERE to be entered in Gina’s giveaway!

A Thirty-Something Girl

May 26, 2015 3 Comments

“A Thirty-Something Girl” by Lisa M. Gott

Blurb: A Thirty-Something Girl follows the story of Hope. At the age of 30, she finds her life in utter shambles. Everything that could go wrong has – divorce, loss of a child, financial struggles. It is the love and unfettered support of her close friends who keep her from being lost in the quicksand of utter despair. As she slowly begins to wrap her head around who she is and what it means to be happy, she meets a man, Sam. Sam is also not a stranger to hardship and finds himself at his own crossroads. Together they find comfort and peace in one another; a soft, quiet place to fall, when the rest of the world is too hard and too noisy to inhabit. A Thirty-Something Girl is a story about the power of human resilience, the importance of friendships, and the magic of true love. It is a story that teaches us (and reminds us) that happiness is actually a very simple concept: it is a choice. A choice we must remember to make each and every day.

EXCERPT

“Ma’am?”

Ugh. Lucky for him, I don’t have a gun.

I finish off the cup of coffee and yell back, “Coming!”

I find the young man leaning up against the doorjamb, a cigarette dangling from his thin lips.

“That was quick,” I say, eying his smoke.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to smoke on the job. Just have a lot on my mind lately. Helps me clear it sometimes. Um, do you want one?” He reaches into his shirt and retrieves a box of Marlboro Lights.

I instantly feel sorry for him. I’d misjudged him. “I’d love one. Want a cup of coffee?”

“That would be amazing, ma’am.”

“For the love of God, please stop calling me that. Just call me Hope.”

“Right, ma . . . , err, Hope.” He looks away from me and smiles, a deep dimple forming at the corner of his mouth.

He follows me inside and takes a seat on a barstool in the kitchen. I slide a cup of coffee his way, before taking a seat beside him.

“You’re not going to get into trouble for taking a little break, right?”

“No. I’m allowed.”

I nod and take a drag off the cigarette. Clara would kill me if she knew we were smoking inside, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Err, Hope?”

“Yes?”

“Does it get easier?”

I tilt my head and look at him. His face is blank, and he’s not making eye contact with me. “How do you mean?”

“Life. Does it get easier when you get older?”

Seriously. How old does he think I am?

“Well, do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or the truth?”

He looks at me with his beautiful green eyes. “The truth.”

“Well, no. It gets harder. Sure, some things get easier. You can stay up as late as you want without your parents yelling at you, and you can eat pizza for breakfast every day. But . . . there’s so much more. It’s hard to describe, really. When you’re younger, there are only a few paths to choose from. Then, with each passing year, more pop up. Finally, you realize you’re lost. You have no idea what path you are even on, where any of them lead to, or if any of them really suit you. Basically, your youth deceives you into thinking your special: That you can change the world and have anything you desire. All you have to do is work for it. Then, one day, you wake up, and you’re not only old, but you realize nothing about you is special.”

“Sounds deep. And . . . really depressing.” He slumps down and lets out a sigh.

“It sucks. But you have to keep forging ahead. You just have to.”

“But why? What’s the point? If it all just sucks, why keep doing it?”

“Good question.” I am at a loss for words. “My friends, they’d have an inspirational answer for you, but me? I’ve got nothing. Sorry, kid.”

“Well, what keeps you going?”

“I’m not sure. I just keep waking up and repeating the whole sad process over and over again, hoping that one day it will all make sense. That I’ll have the answers.”

He shrugs his shoulders and nods. And I can tell he’s still trying to swallow what I’ve told him. “I’m sorry. I should probably go. I didn’t mean to get all mopey. It’s just my girlfriend. She’s pregnant. She’s only fifteen. I’m nineteen. We were gonna go to school, have a future. Do it right, you know? I mean. I like kids, but . . .” He stops and looks away.

“You still feel like a kid yourself?” I lean closer and place my hand on his, squeezing it lightly. “Life never happens the way we plan. Not for most of us, at least.”

He turns back to me, and his eyes are red and full of sadness. “I know. It’s just hard. My parents, they’re really religious. Like, they think we should keep the baby and get married. But I dunno what to do. I don’t want to drive a truck the rest of my life. I want to travel and do stuff.” He hops off the stool and stares at me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to word vomit my entire life to you.”

“Best advice I can give you is to do what you think is right. Don’t worry so much about everyone else. When people love you, they’ll stick by you no matter what. And if they don’t stay around, then they don’t really love you. Look to your heart. Your heart never lies.” I feel myself getting caught up in the emotion of our conversation and have to look away before I too get upset.

“Thanks, Hope. That’s real sound advice. I better get going.” He wipes his eyes with his shirt and turns to leave, pausing briefly. “My name’s Jason, by the way.” He smiles and disappears.

For a moment, I sit there in a daze from our conversation. Thinking about his girlfriend and his life. Comparing it to mine. I hop off the stool and run outside, and catch him right before he closes the door to the cab of his truck. “Jason!”

“Yes?”

“I know this sounds stupid, but how old do you think I am? Be honest.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “I have no idea how old you are, Hope, but

I think you’re beautiful and really sweet. And in a different life, I would have liked to get to know you better.”

That isn’t the answer I am expecting, especially from such a young guy, but I smile bigger than I have in years. “Thank you for that. Take care of yourself.”

He nods, closes the door, and pulls out of the driveway, leaving me alone with a garage full of stuff.

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**About author, Lisa M. Gott: Lisa M. Gott is a contemporary literary fiction author. Her stories tell of the human spirit – sometimes sad, sometimes not – most can relate to them on some level or another. When she’s not feverishly weaving words, you can find her enjoying nature, spending time with her incredible husband, and sometimes sipping a latte. Okay, maybe more than sometimes.

**Contact Lisa M. Gott: Blog Amazon Facebook Goodreads Twitter

The Daddy Diaries

May 5, 2015 Leave a Comment

“The Daddy Diaries” by Joshua Braff

Blurb: Braff’s new novel, “The Daddy Diaries,” chronicles the very topical world of marital role reversal in which current day Mr. Mom, Jay, his wife, and their thirteen- and ten-year-old kids are suddenly plucked from their life in San Francisco and moved by the new company to Florida. Leaving beloved friends and his Northern California sensibility, Jay struggles to keep his family happy through the learning curves. As Jay searches to steer the group straight, he quickly discovers that the tasks of child rearing grow even more complex as kids grow up. Through a series of misadventures with his narcissistic older brother, his lunatic childhood friend, and his increasingly estranged but beloved son, Jay learns that he must tap his own vulnerabilities if he is to be the rock of stability his family so desperately needs.

With spot-on accuracy Joshua Braff tackles the issues that plague us as parents, sons, spouses, and friends as we move through life. The sense of isolation that comes from being transplanted into a new place, the pain of watching a son turn into a stranger as adolescence takes hold, and the raw and blinding love and sense of responsibility to one’s family. Through pathos and humor “The Daddy Diaries” captures the relatable, yet unpredictable dance of how families similarly, but uniquely ebb and flow.

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Comments: “Honest and heartfelt, Joshua Braff’s novel about the perils of 21st century fatherhood contains more moments of truth than several hundred bestselling memoirs or self-help books. The wry humor and compulsive readability may remind readers of Jonathan Tropper or Nick Hornby, but the hard-won wisdom and disarming vulnerability in “The Daddy Diaries” is all Braff’s own.” –Adam Langer, author of The Thieves of Manhattan

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**Author, Joshua Braff: Joshua grew up in South Orange, New Jersey, and graduated from Columbia High School and NYU. He earned an MFA in creative writing/fiction from St. Mary’s College of California. Josh’s first novel The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green (Algonquin Books, 2004), about a dysfunctional, Jewish family in late ‘70s was chosen as a Barnes & Noble Discover pick. Peep Show (Algonquin Books, 2010), his second book, was about a 17-year-old boy forced to choose between his Orthodox mother’s life and his father’s career in the porn industry. People Magazine raved, “Braff skillfully illuminates the failures and charms of a broken family. That teen longing for adults to act their age haunts long after the final page.” Josh lives in California with his wife of almost 20 years and their two kids. He is an avid baseball fan and an accomplished painter who plays guitar and drums. The Daddy Diaries is his third novel.

**Contact Joshua: Website Facebook Twitter

Boot Camp Bride

February 24, 2015 7 Comments

“Boot Camp Bride” by Lizzie Lamb

Blurb: Take an up-for-anything rookie reporter. Add a world-weary photo-journalist. Put them together . . . light the blue touch paper and stand well back! Posing as a bride-to-be, Charlee Montague goes undercover at a boot camp for brides in Norfolk (England) to photograph supermodel Anastasia Markova looking less than perfect. At Charlee’s side and posing as her fiancé, is Rafael Ffinch award winning photographer and survivor of a kidnap attempt in Colombia. He’s in no mood to cut inexperienced Charlee any slack and has made it plain that once the investigation is over, their partnership – and fake engagement – will be terminated, too. Soon Charlee has more questions than answers. What’s the real reason behind Ffinch’s interest in the boot camp? How is it connected to his kidnap in Colombia? In setting out to uncover the truth, Charlee puts herself in danger. And, as the investigation draws to a close, she wonders if she’ll be able to hand back the engagement ring and walk away from gorgeous Rafa without a backward glance.

EXCERPT

Chapter One

No, No, No

Charlee was listening to Amy Winehouse on her iPod in the large walk-in cupboard that doubled as a storeroom for copier paper, last year’s Comic Relief publicity material and those computers even the techno-geeks couldn’t fix. The sign on the door read ‘Photo Archive’. But looking round the room crammed with filing cabinets and office detritus – and with the sour smell from an abandoned mop bucket wafting towards her – Charlee decided that a spell in rehab was beginning to look an attractive alternative. Trying to keep her spirits up, she sang along with Amy at the top of her voice.

No one ever came down to the basement of What’cha! Magazine of their own volition and the photo archive was rumoured to be haunted. But Charlee guessed that was just a story put about by the post boys to scare her. She glanced once over her shoulder in the windowless twilight, shivered, and then continued with her task. Editorial wanted ‘before/after’ photos of celebrities whose facelifts had gone wrong. And, as a lowly intern who had seriously pissed off the fashion editor, Vanessa Lloyd, Charlee had been given the task.

Listening to the iPod was a small act of rebellion on her part. Out of sheer vindictiveness – and just because she could – Vanessa had banned the use of iPods and mobiles during office hours. However, Charlee’s defiance couldn’t compensate for the crumminess of the task. Or the fact that she’d been sitting in a cramped position for two hours, flicking through photos of lopsided celebrities, dying to use the loo.

Her – that is – not the celebrities!

Cutting-edge journalism? Hardly.

It all seemed far away from the heady day last summer when she’d graduated with a first in Modern Languages and Political Studies. Then she’d imagined herself reporting from a war zone above the rolling titles of a breaking news story on the Beeb. Instead, here she was, wondering if it was possible to get dowager’s hump from sitting hunched over a low desk for hours on end while all feeling left her lower limbs.

‘Montague,’ a voice growled. ‘Is that an iPod I see?’ A pair of hands clamped over her knotted shoulders.

In one well-practised move, Charlee put her hand up her sweater, pulled out the earphones and hid the wires from view. She spun round expecting to find Vanessa Lloyd standing there ready to give her a ticking off for not being on task. Instead, she found Poppy Walker – daughter of What’cha!’s editor-cum-proprietor – her best friend and confidante.

‘You’ve just shaved five years off my life, Walker, know that?’ Charlee said, now she could breathe easy again. Poppy ignored her, looking round the dinginess of the photo archive and wrinkling her nose instead.

‘What is that smell?’

‘I’ve been down here so long I’ve become immune to it. But I think it’s coming from that mop bucket over there.’ Charlee collected the ‘before/after’ photos together, making sure that she’d left markers in the filing cabinets to show where they’d come from. She knew exactly who’d be putting them back once Editorial had finished with them.

‘Poor Charlee,’ Poppy sighed. She reached into an oversized designer handbag, pulled out a bottle of perfume and sprayed a suffocating cloud of some exclusive, spicy scent in Charlee’s direction. ‘There, sweetie; that ought to stop dogs running after you in the street.’

‘Thanks, mate.’ Charlee put a sarcastic stress on the word, but the irony was lost on Poppy. She wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and was only kept on at What’cha! because her family owned the magazine. And no one – not even the almighty Vanessa – dared to complain to Sam Walker about his daughter.

Charlee regarded Poppy with fond exasperation.

Last summer, she’d written to every newspaper from The Times to Pigeon Fanciers’ Weekly in an attempt to get a toehold in the world of journalism – but none of them had bothered to answer her letters or emails. As the weeks stretched into months, Poppy had spoken to her father on Charlee’s behalf, brushing aside Charlee’s half-hearted protests that she was cashing in on their friendship. The result was a year’s internship at What’cha! during which time Charlee had to prove herself worthy of Sam and Poppy’s belief in her.

‘Why can’t you do this online?’ Poppy asked, waving a hand in front of Charlee’s face and breaking her dream.

‘That’s exactly what I asked – dared to ask – Vanessa.’

‘And your head is still attached to your shoulders?’ They exchanged a look of fellow feeling. Vanessa’s high-handedness with interns was legendary, but her dislike of Charlee verged on the pathological. It was Charlee’s avowed intention to make Vanessa review her low opinion of her and eat her caustic words. All she needed was a chance, an opportunity to show everyone her mettle. She had it in her to be a great journalist; she felt it in her water. One day her lucky break would come along and when it did, she’d be ready.

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**Contact Links for author, Lizzie Lamb:

Email Website Blog

Amazon

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The Commitment Test

February 4, 2015 2 Comments

“The Commitment Test” by Amanda Aksel

Blurb: When a Valentine’s Day proposal doesn’t come with an engagement ring, Marin Johns begins to wonder if she and James will ever get married. As her closest friends begin to move forward with their lives, she refuses to be left behind.

Hope is restored as she devises a plan to get James down on one knee by becoming the ideal mate. Everything seems to fall into place until her college boyfriend resurfaces after a decade with his own ideas about their future. Will Marin be forced to choose between the man of her dreams and the diamond ring she’s always dreamed of?

**Purchase links: Kindle Nook iBook Kobo

**Click HERE to buy Amanda’s first novel, The Man Test (The Marin Test Series: Book One) on sale or $0.99!!

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**About the author:

Amanda Aksel is an author with an affinity for love. Becoming a couples therapist was her “backup” career, and after completing her BA in Psychology she was on her way to solving love’s most complicated quandaries one couple at a time. Now she plans to solve love’s most complicated quandaries one novel at a time.

**Contact Amanda: Website Facebook Instagram Newsletter Twitter

That Old Black Magic

February 4, 2015 Leave a Comment

“That Old Black Magic” by Caroline Fardig

Blurb:

Lizzie Hart is back—snooping, lying, and chick fighting to uncover the truth, hoping not to break any hearts along the way…especially her own.

Lizzie hoped her first day back at work after nearly being killed would be uneventful. No such luck. Before she can finish her morning coffee, Lizzie and her co workers find a dead body on the rooftop of their office. Media vultures that they are, the Liberty Chronicle employees are psyched to have firsthand news to report. Lizzie, however, is devastated when she realizes that the victim is her ex boyfriend’s brother.

When evidence begins piling up against one of Lizzie’s friends, she reluctantly dons her detective hat once again, determined to find the real killer. Lizzie ends up juggling a murder investigation, a wacky Wiccan coven, and two men vying for her attention—all while nursing injuries left over from the last time she decided to play Nancy Drew. It’s a good thing she always has a few tricks up her sleeve.

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About author, Caroline Fardig: CAROLINE FARDIG was born and raised in a small town in Indiana. Her working career has been rather eclectic thus far, with occupations including schoolteacher, church organist, insurance agent, funeral parlor associate, and stay-at-home mom. Finally realizing that she wants to be a writer when she grows up, Caroline has released her bestselling debut novel, IT’S JUST A LITTLE CRUSH. She is currently hard at work churning out more novels in the LIZZIE HART MYSTERIES series and in the JAVA JIVE MYSTERIES series. She still lives in that same small town with an understanding husband, two sweet kids, two energetic dogs, and one malevolent cat.

**Contact Caroline: Website Facebook Twitter

Twin Piques

January 9, 2015 6 Comments

“Twin Piques” by Tracie Banister

Blurb:

Forensic accountant Sloane Tobin and kooky pet psychic Willa may have the same face, but that’s the only thing these identical twins have in common.

How she can read the hearts and minds of animals has always been a mystery to Willa, and her rotten luck with men is equally baffling. Although she’s been looking for “The One” for what feels like forever (A teenage marriage to a French mime and dating a guy named Spider seemed like good ideas at the time!), optimistic Willa refuses to give up on love. When she meets Brody, the handsome rose expert hired to save her grandmother’s garden, she’s instantly smitten, but why does he keep sending her mixed signals? Does he return her feelings, or is their attraction all in her fanciful head?

Unlike her twin, Sloane has zero interest in romance. Her passion is her job, where she uses her gift for numbers to take down slimy embezzlers and asset-hiding spouses. When she’s assigned two high profile cases, Sloane feels confident the promotion she’s been angling for is within her grasp. But will her plan to climb the corporate ladder be thwarted by difficult clients, her co-worker-with-benefits, or – most surprisingly of all – her own sister? And how’s she supposed to stay focused on the drama at work when her childhood friend, Gav, moves in next door and the spark between them becomes impossible to ignore?

To get what they both want, can Willa and Sloane band together and rely on each other’s strengths? Or will their differences drive them apart once and for all?

**Buy “Twin Piques” now:

Amazon – US Amazon – Global

Click HERE to find “Twin Piques” on Goodreads!

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**About author, Tracie Banister:

An avid reader and writer, Tracie Banister has been scribbling stories since she was a child, most of them featuring feisty heroines with complicated love lives like her favorite fictional protagonist Scarlett O’Hara. Her work was first seen on the stage of her elementary school, where her 4th grade class performed an original holiday play that she penned. (Like all good divas-in-the-making, she also starred in and tried to direct the production.)

Tracie’s dreams of authorial success were put on the backburner when she reached adulthood and discovered that she needed a “real” job in order to pay her bills. Her career as personal assistant to a local entrepreneur lasted for 12 years. When it ended, she decided to follow her bliss and dedicate herself to writing full-time. Twin Piques is her third Chick Lit release. The pet psychic character in this novel was inspired by Tracie’s rascally rescue dogs. She’d love to know what goes on in their heads!

**Contact Tracie:

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Something in the Heir

January 8, 2015 Leave a Comment

“Something in the Heir” by Jenny Gardiner

Blurb:

He’s a prince with a problem, she’s a commoner with a getaway plan.

Modern-day Prince Adrian of Monaforte has a most old-fashioned problem: his demanding mother wants him wed to her best friend’s daughter, the hard-partying Serena. When his refusal falls on deaf ears, Adrian decides it’s time for him to slip away from his gilded cage and figure out his life, all on his own. As luck would have it, event photographer Emma Davison, weary of a revolving door of lost-cause men and tired of her outsider-looking-in career, is in need of her own escape clause, just in time to help a wayward prince in need. And she soon discovers that sometimes a girl’s gotta sweep a prince off his feet.

For any girl that’s ever held out hope that some day her prince would come…or better yet, hoped that some day she’d come to him.

CHAPTER ONE TEASE

Emma Davison had a date with a prince. Well, not really a date, but yes, really a prince. Calling it a date would be a bit of a stretch, considering she would only be within breathing distance of the man by dint of her professional skills. Emma had been hired to photograph His Royal Highness Crown Prince Adrian William Philip Nicholas Winchester-Westleigh, future King of Monaforte, in a series of grip-and-grins with wealthy donors at a Washington, DC charitable event. Which worked out well, considering she’d sworn off dating men, and since a prince was a guy, and guys, well, she was totally over them, it wasn’t like she’d have entertained the idea anyhow. Not that it was even an option.

Besides, princes were a part of fairy tales, and Emma wasn’t a big subscriber to that sort of fiction. Having already tossed back into the swamp more than her share of warty toads over the years, she knew that at the end of the day, even a prince was just a man. And in her world, men hadn’t exactly panned out. Besides, she’d seen the tabloids: this pretty boy was a player, a new woman on his arm in every city, rumor had it. As far as she was concerned, they could keep him. Prince-schmince. She sure didn’t need another love ’em and leave ’em type in her life. She was here to do a job, and the sooner she did it, the sooner she could go home and take a nice hot bath with a good book and a glass of red wine.

As she awaited the arrival of His Royal Whatchamacallit, hovering just inside the cordoned-off velvet rope section in the palatial Great Hall of the Library of Congress, Emma mentally ticked off the essentials she needed to keep in mind for the shoot. She’d thoroughly reviewed the protocol handbook with the palace’s press secretary earlier in the week. All forty-six pages of it. She’d been told a curtsey would be a nice gesture, and warned not to shake the man’s hand, which sort of seemed annoying, as if her own wasn’t good enough or something. No doubt royals were snooty, but she was there to earn a paycheck, not to pass judgment on how full of himself the guy was. Which she assumed he was. Not that she was passing judgment or anything.

Emma had actually practiced how to address the prince for a good while in advance of the event so that she wouldn’t come across like a complete country bumpkin in his presence, repeating in front of the mirror, “Pleased to meet you, sir” till she could say it no more. She was ready. She’d even straightened her shoulder-length chestnut curls for the occasion, thinking straighter hair lent her a bit of gravitas. Yeah, Emma Davison did not care at all about impressing any prince.

She’d brought along her assistant and best friend Caroline McKenzie, whom she knew wouldn’t screw up—just as long as she didn’t hit on the man herself. Caroline, a green-eyed redhead with a penchant for serial flirtation, was known for her ability to pick up pretty much any guy she wanted. But Emma knew even Caroline had her limits.

Tonight Emma got to remain on the VIP side of the velvet rope as she set up to shoot the prince alongside all sorts of deep-pocketed D.C. dignitaries, with the President of the United States thrown in for good measure. Normally, it was hard to remain too starstruck in her line of work, shooting famous people as regularly as she did. But a prince and a president? As much as she liked to play it cool, even she had to admit that was none too shabby.

Caro, standing just behind Emma, squealed in surprise when the prince’s arrival was announced with blasts from those long royal trumpets draped with crimson flags bearing the Monaforte royal crest. It was straight out of a Disney movie when Prince Charming’s arrival was heralded to the guests at the ball. As soon as the trumpets fell silent, a deep blue velvet curtain parted and the prince, followed by his right-hand man, stepped forward to the thunderous applause of the audience.

Emma was close enough to see that he had mesmerizing bright blue eyes. Dammit, she was a sucker for blue eyes.

Just then a quartet struck up a tune and the music shattered her momentary reverie. She knew she had all of about two minutes to greet the prince and then get started with the host of images she needed to capture. There were titans of industry, political muckety-mucks and a collection of pandering celebrities already queued up, desperate for their own eight-by-ten glossy with famous royalty that they could mount on their wall like some taxidermied bear head. She had no time for gawking.

The prince walked slowly down the line, greeting one by one the organizers of the charitable event and members of the Monafortian embassy staff, all standing in the VIP zone near Emma. Everyone seemed to do a perfectly fine job with his or her allotted three seconds of undivided royal attention, making casual chitchat with the prince. Until it came to Emma. Because as soon as the man approached her, she felt as if her tongue had become a sandbag weighted down in her mouth. And while a curtsey wasn’t mandatory, it was what she’d planned on, until that very moment when her eyes made contact with his deep, sapphire ones, and she knew for certain she’d face-plant on his expensive royal bespoke Italian shoes if she dared try any tricky maneuvers.

Without staring too much like a creeper at those amazing eyes, Emma tried to give him a discreet once-over, but it felt awkward, like gawking at a stranger’s tattoo, or trying to read the T-shirt message on the chest of a person walking by. She knew she’d only look a bit stalkerish, and stalker-chic so wasn’t her style. But then she found herself focused on his thick, wavy black hair, which led to a fleeting fantasy that involved burying her fingers in it while he was busily…Oh, stop it! She tamped down that betraying though, dismissing it as some stupid latent celebrity crush, all the while recognizing that her darned body was selling her out and swooning over the guy despite her strong inner protestations.

So when Prince Adrian bent his head down but raised his gaze and continued to fix it on Emma’s eyes only, reaching both hands out for hers — totally defying royal protocol — she simply stammered, and wished that he’d lean more toward her mouth, darn it! And when he pressed his lips to the top of her hand, she could only gulp as she tried to clear what felt like a giant hairball lodged in her throat.

“Peas to greet you, slur,” she said, failing miserably to just mouth correctly those five simple words, turning about fifty shades of red in the process. She felt certain she was going to be fired on the spot.

But instead of calling for his royal bodyguards to toss her out into the cold December night on the grounds of insanity, he clasped her hand in both of his for a moment longer, his eyes continuing to hold hers, and smiled broadly. Emma could feel her heart beating in her throat, and she wondered for a minute if he was only holding onto her hands until someone else could grab them and haul her away. In handcuffs maybe. You’re under arrest for complete and utter lunacy.

“The pleasure is all mine. And please, call me Adrian,” he said in what seemed barely a whisper, adding with a wink, “Oh, and by the way, I’m most peased to greet you as well.”

Emma was so glad she wasn’t prone to throwing up because if she were, that would’ve been the unfortunate outcome of her moment in the spotlight with her “date.” Instead she let him cling to her hand a second longer while she trembled just a bit and hoped to God her palms weren’t sweating too badly.

The spell was broken when Caroline blurted out, and not in her inside voice, “Oh, my God. His accent is orgasmic. And did you get a look at that friend of his?”

Adrian and Emma’s heads followed her friend’s pointing finger, which led right to the tall, handsome brown-eyed blonde man standing beside the prince.

“You mean Darcy?” Adrian said, waving his hand dismissively. “He’s hardly anything to write home about!” He laughed as he elbowed his friend in the ribs.

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” Darcy said. “He’s just jealous that women always choose me over him.”

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Compass North

September 2, 2014 Leave a Comment

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“Compass North” by Stephanie Joyce Cole

Blurb: Reeling from the shock of a suddenly shattered marriage, Meredith flees as far from her home in Florida as she can get without a passport: to Alaska. After a freak accident leaves her presumed dead, she stumbles into a new identity and a new life in a quirky small town. Her friendship with a fiery and temperamental artist and her growing worry for her elderly, cranky landlady pull at the fabric of her carefully guarded secret. When a romance with a local fisherman unexpectedly blossoms, Meredith struggles to find a way to meld her past and present so that she can move into the future she craves. But someone is looking for her, someone who will threaten Meredith’s dream of a reinvented life.

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Excerpt of “Compass North”:

This morning, when Meredith had woken, bleary-eyed and her throat dry, she buried her head in the soft pillow. Going home. She probed the thought gently, thinking about opening the townhouse door, sensing the silent whispers. Was it even home anymore?

On their way to the Fairbanks airport, someone yelped, “Look, a bear!”

Even though it was the last day of the tour, the bus still shuddered to a stop when anyone shouted out a sighting. Meredith had rushed with everyone else to the left side of the bus to squint at the distant-moving speck on the rain-drenched green expanse in Denali National Park, all the time thinking, Will he be at the airport? No, of course not. I didn’t even tell him my flight information. But he could ask Ellen. But no, he won’t be there. Unless he wants to talk about the divorce right away…

“Wow, look at those fall colors!”

At a scenic viewpoint, they all huddled together against the whistling wind and stared at the rolling tundra outside of Fairbanks, with its late summer greens, scarlets, and browns pocketed by hundreds of tiny lakes shining a deep navy blue in the weak afternoon sunlight. The stiff breeze carried the scent of trampled evergreens, wet earth, and the suggestion of still, boggy water. The bite of the wind made her eyes water and blurred her vision. She murmured some words of admiration, but her thoughts were far away. What will I do next? How could Michael do this to me after fifteen years?

Meredith had found her fellow travelers to be a contented and congenial group, solicitous and moderately interested in their only single, and rather withdrawn, slightly nervous fellow traveler. They must have found her odd, she realized, her slender frame swaddled in layers of Florida cotton, while they had prepared for this trip for months, fortifying themselves in down parkas and carrying brightly colored backpacks. She was at least two decades younger than most of them. But they had been kind to her, and after the first few days they realized she preferred to be left alone.

It was one of the last tours of the season, and though the sun often offered a bit of pleasant warmth midday, the nights drew in sharp and bitter. On the road to Fairbanks, they had driven through vistas splashed with streaks of red and gold stretching to a far horizon, and could see a fine new layer of snow had already dusted the lower slopes of distant, craggy peaks. The brief Alaska autumn had arrived, and winter already announced its intentions. But Meredith might as well have been traveling in the vast expanse of some flat, monotonous desert, for all the magnificence of the country registered with her.

And now, as she exited the airport and stepped onto the curb, her travel bag held tight under her arm, her lungs breathing in the cool, crisp air, the bus looming ahead of her, the sound of a plane deafeningly roaring, coming closer…

Later, she would wonder if she had seen the plane crash into the waiting bus. She didn’t think so. All she remembered was the noise, the terrible boom, then the fiery mass where the bus should have been.

Screams erupted then, and voices wailing. Meredith couldn’t absorb it at first, that the bus heading back to Anchorage—the bus she should be on—had just exploded at the far end of the airport parking lot.

She dropped hard onto the concrete curb in terror, sprawled into a sitting position with her legs awkwardly splayed in front of her. She watched in confusion as people streamed out of the terminal. The crowd pushed a few feet ahead, shouting and pointing and holding their hands to faces that wore masks of shock and horror, but the heat and flames kept them at a distance.

Oh my God, that’s our bus, everyone is on board, everyone is there…

Jonas and Angela were right behind me. And Carrie and John were across the aisle…

Oh my God. I should be on that bus. I should be dead.

But I’m not.

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**Click HERE to read an interview with Stephanie Joyce Cole!

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**GIVEAWAY**

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StephanieJoyceColePic **About author, Stephanie Joyce Cole:

Stephanie Joyce Cole lived for decades in Alaska. She and her husband recently relocated to Seattle, where they reside with a predatory but lovable Manx cat named Bruno. Stephanie has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Alaska, Anchorage. When she’s not writing, she’s hiking, creating ceramics, practicing yoga, traveling, volunteering and discovering new ways to have fun–and oh yes, reading, reading, reading.

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