Award winning author Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance, and paranormal and romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas and currently resides in Westchester County, New York with her daughter.
To Tame a Highland Earl
A man torn between two worlds. Both need him…neither wants him.
Groomed for a life amongst the English aristocracy, Lord Erroll Rushton is unexpectedly thrust back into his father’s Scottish world when the Englishwoman he compromises refuses to marry him.
No gentleman breaks into a lady’s bedchamber…but then, no lady sleeps with a pistol under her pillow.
Miss Eve Crenshaw will marry for love or won’t marry at all. When London’s most notorious rakehell breaks into her bedchamber in the dead of night and compromises her beyond repair, Eve plans a daring escape that shocks even the Earl.
To Tame a Highland Earl
My newest book, To Tame a Highland Earl: A MacLean Highlander Novel, is now available for preorder for the sale price of $2.99.
If ever a woman deserved to be shot, it was Miss Crenshaw. But dawn appointments weren’t meant for the weaker sex. Weaker sex. The lady was anything but weak, which is why Erroll intended to throttle her.
Erroll laid a shilling in the innkeeper’s palm. “You understand the need for discretion.”
“Indeed, I do, my lord,” the man replied. “Your betrothed’s reputation is safe with me.”
Erroll managed to maintain a bland expression as the innkeeper handed him the key to the lady’s room. So news of his impending nuptials had sped from Coventry to Manchester even quicker than he had—which meant London society would hear the news by morning light and the story would cross the border to Edinburgh just as quickly.
Which of the gossipmongers had he to thank for that? He was grateful to the heavenly powers that his mother had remained in Scotland and not accompanied his father to England this month. God help him if she got wind of this entanglement before he had a chance to extricate himself from the tenacious claw of the husband-hunting wench.
“A beautiful woman is hard to resist,” the innkeeper said.
“Indeed,” Erroll murmured, glad the man had interrupted the mental picture of his mother outfitting the deceitful huntress in her wedding dress. No bachelor’s mother was more determined to see her son wed than Erroll’s own dear mamma, and since his return from the navy, his father had put his considerable weight behind her efforts.
He whirled toward the stairs, climbed to the second floor and made a left down the hall. At the third door on the left, he stopped. Erroll had endured his father’s hour-long diatribe that ended with the command to marry the woman who had accused him of compromising her—a woman he’d never laid eyes on—before he finally broke away to discover his accuser had fled Coventry. The hard five hour ride to catch her before she reached her father’s estate would have been in vain if not for the fact a wheel on her carriage broke forty miles distance from Manchester.
This experience would teach him to dally with the women outside of London. Had he satisfied himself with the eligible ladies in Town—if those females could be called ladies—he wouldn’t have gone to Coventry and attended the damn house party that had gotten him into trouble. The fact he’d spent a pleasurable hour with a lady in the hostess’ gardens had only served to put him in the very place his accuser said he’d been. Erroll felt sure the cunning creature was well aware he’d been in the gardens, and therefore claimed to be the object of his attentions.
Erroll quietly unlocked the door, slipped into the darkened room, then eased the door shut and slipped the key into his pocket. Faint moonlight filtered in through thin curtains and outlined the sleeping figure in the bed. Erroll crept forward until he reached the bed. He braced a knee against the side of the mattress, then placed a hand on each side of the woman and brought his face to within an inch of hers.
She shifted in her sleep and lush breasts grazed his chest. He wondered how long it would be before she became aware a man was in her bed, then concluded that since she hadn’t awoken with a shriek she must be accustomed to having a man in her bed. He should ravish her as she’d said he had just for good measure. The thought froze at the pressure of a pistol jammed against his abdomen.
“I am a crack shot.” The feminine voice was steady—as was the hand holding the gun. “But even the worst shot in Great Britain couldn’t miss.” The gun dug deeper into his belly. “Move away.”
Erroll considered. Her calm response to his presence almost made him think she’d expected him. “If I’m to be shot, I should at least commit the crime for which I’m accused.” The click of the pistol’s hammer being pulled back was his answer. “I see you do not agree.” He straightened off the bed.
“Step back,” she ordered.
He retreated two paces.
He moved back another two paces.
“I promise you, sir, my aim is as true at such short a distance as it was when you were an inch from my face. Back against the door.”
Erroll complied. A light click indicated she had released the hammer back into place. She rose, a small figure in the shadows, and picked up something from the night table. The clink of glass was followed by the scrape of a match on wood, then light flared and he got his first look at the woman who claimed he had ravished away her innocence. Dark brown eyes pinned him with a hard stare. Honey-brown hair tumbled down her shoulders. The top of her head was no higher than his chest.
The muff pistol remained pointed at him as her attention shifted to the lamp on the nightstand. She bent slightly and her full breasts strained against the nightgown as she lit the wick. His cock jerked and he couldn’t deny his good fortune in not having met her at Lady Baldwin’s party. He very well might have fallen prey to her charms and been guilty of her accusations.
She blew out the match and tossed it onto a metal tray, then took a step toward him. The lamplight illuminated the outline of her body through the nightgown. The curves he discerned were fuller than were fashionable and the kind he’d sought without success. His cock began to lift. He might end up shot after all.
“You are no common housebreaker,” she said. “Who are you?”
Erroll’s mind snapped to attention. The wench didn’t recognize him. Fury doused his lust. He gave a mocking smile and bowed. “Lord Erroll Rushton, at your service.”
Shock registered on her face, then an answering fire appeared in her eyes. “I see we shall have to break you of the habit of entering a lady’s room uninvited.”
“You use the term lady too loosely.”
“That is the pot calling the kettle black.”
He nearly laughed.
“One would think a prospective groom could keep his cock in his pants with his wedding but two days hence,” she said.
“Three days,” Erroll corrected. That was how long it would take him to get the special license his father ordered him to procure. “Pray tell, what sort of lady carries a gun?” He didn’t ask what lady used the word ‘cock’ as easily as the word ‘groom?’ That was perhaps too obvious.
“The sort who knows what to expect of a man,” she replied.
“The very sort who understands a man might object to being forced into marriage?” he said.
She gave a derisive laugh. “You are a rakehell, sir.”
“I never denied being a rake, madam, but I am no liar.”
She wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d been told this was to be her second season, but this woman was no debutante and, given the way she unabashedly stood before him in her nightclothes, he would wager she was no virgin.
“Surely, you’re a little old for this game?” he drawled.
Her brow knit, but he detected no shame. She was too collected. But a level head—along with a liberal dose of nerve—is exactly what it took to accuse a complete stranger of compromising her.
“Did you really think you could get away with it?” she asked.
The question startled him.
“Now who is the pot calling the kettle black?” he said. She shifted and Erroll could have sworn he discerned a dark patch between her legs. “A shame we met under these circumstances.” He flicked a glance at her breasts. “We could have been friends.”
Her mouth thinned. “By God, I really should shoot you.”
“Tut tut, love, not until the vows are said and I claim what is left of your virtue.”
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Your righteous anger is completely undone by the fact that you’re nearly naked.”
Her mouth twisted in a derisive smile. “Forgive me, my lord. Had I known you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.”
“You are impeccably dressed for the occasion.”
Did she have any idea how visible the contours of her body were with the lamplight behind her…or how her nipples pressed against her nightgown? She shifted, widening her stance slightly and his cock jerked harder. Oh yes, the witch knew.
“I should send you to hell this instant,” she said.
He lifted a brow. “The marriage vows will take care of that—had I any intentions of marrying.”
“My father will ensure that you do not escape this time.”
“That sounds as though you think I am getting what I deserve.”
“You do not deserve such a good and innocent wife.”
Erroll laughed. “Innocent? A woman who puts herself in such a position is no innocent.”
“How dare you?” she hissed.
“How dare I? I understand there were several suitors for the honorable Miss Crenshaw’s attentions at Lady Baldwin’s party. I wager none of them were as good a prospect as I, which is why you gambled that no one would notice if I was included on that list.”
He didn’t miss the way her fingers flexed on the gun.
“Everything I’ve heard about you is true,” she said. “You have no conscience.”
“In that we are alike. Should my father succeed in coercing me into marriage, I will make the worst sort of husband you can imagine. I will not settle down and sire an heir as he expects. Instead, I will send my wife to the family estate in Scotland while I go about my pleasures in London.”
“So the choice is desertion or ruination?”
“Be honest, the ruination was done long before you concocted this plan.”
“Plan?” she repeated. “I feel certain I can convince the magistrate of self-defense. After all, you broke into my room.”
“Think again.” Erroll reached into his pocket.
“Beware,” she said.
He slowly withdrew the key from his pocket and held it up. “The innkeeper was very obliging. He feels nothing should stand in the way of true love.”
She frowned, then comprehension cleared her expression. “I should have guessed. You think you can browbeat me into helping you avoid the marriage vows. You, sir, are the worst sort of knave.”
“So we do understand one another.”
“You are a fool,” she muttered.
He’d had enough. “You are the fool if you believe I will marry you.”
“Marry me? What—”
Erroll started toward her.
She took a faltering step backwards and he lunged. She gave a startled cry. He seized the hand holding the gun and shoved it upward in their tumble backwards. They landed on the bed, him on top of her. Her lush body yielded beneath his hard planes—his stiffening cock in particular. To his surprise, she didn’t struggle, but released the pistol. The weapon bounced off the mattress and struck the carpet with a thud.
“Is this how you described my having ravished you?” he demanded.
Shock registered on her face. He blew out a frustrated breath. He’d come ready to battle the vixen and she was already crumbling. Moisture appeared in her eyes. Ah, there it was. She was simply moving onto another tactic.
“Lies, pistols, tears, and…” He moved suggestively against her breasts and felt the rigid nipples beneath his shirt. “Your arsenal of weapons is impressive, madam.”
“I tell you, mamma, I heard a scream.”
A woman’s voice penetrated the door on the right wall. Erroll jerked his gaze in that direction as the door swung open. Two women stood in the doorway staring, one young—in her second season, he would guess—the other, the mamma the girl had addressed.
Erroll looked at the woman lying beneath him. “I thought that was a closet.”
Title: Burst Into Flame
Series: Burning Lovesick
Author: Lyssa Layne
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 2014
“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”-Albert Schweitzer
Life before her husband had been simple. Dr. Katy Garrity ran, went to work, came home, and repeat. It wasn’t a glamourous life by any means but it was safe. She didn’t have to worry about getting close to anyone, getting hurt, or worse—losing them. But that was before she met Nick Garrity.
In a matter of ten months, they’d met, married, she’d become pregnant, and then in one quick instant, he was gone. She was a widow. It was a title she never thought she’d carry, especially not at thirty, but that’s what she was. She was no longer known as a runner or a doctor or a mother, she was a widow.
After losing both her father and her husband in the line of duty with FDNY, she should’ve learned her lesson but she was a stubborn woman which was part of the reason why her husband’s best friend fell for her. After Nick died, his comrade, Jesse O’Neil, stepped up as the man of her house and the head of her family. But can she fall in love with another fireman and risk being burned again?
Dr. Katy Garrity hopped out of the St. Luke’s Roosevelt ambulance, stepping cautiously onto the sidewalk. Fire and glass rained down from the inferno in the high rise building. Heat fanned from the fire, but Katy stood frozen watching the scene unfold in front of her.
A child’s screams could be heard above the sirens and splashes of water from the violent stream of the firemen’s hose sprayed the doctor’s cheeks. The stench of burnt plastic and wood filled her nose while soot and ashes now covered Katy’s chestnut ponytail, which was whipping against her face in the wind. Her eyes stung from the smoke that hung heavily in the air she was breathing.
Jolted forward by a passing paramedic, Katy snapped back to reality shaking her head. She rubbed her shoulder where her co-worker had run into her and looked at the triage area. Instead of heading to the red or yellow patients, her feet took her to the black section. Black meant the victims were already dead.
Her eyes scanned quickly searching for one fireman. Her stomach settled when she didn’t see who she was looking for. Satisfied for the moment that her heart wasn’t broken again, she returned to the red patients who were in need of immediate attention.
Seconds, minutes, hours passed and she cared for burn after burn until she couldn’t see straight anymore. The smell of burnt skin and the cries of the victims as she cleaned each wound were not things that would easily wash away when her shift ended. Tears had stung her eyes as she treated the first of the victims but now she was numb. Numb to their pain, numb to her compassion, numb and ready for the night to be over.
A commotion behind her broke her concentration. She heard firefighters screaming and shouting as they ran out of the building. She turned her attention to them and there was the fireman she’d been looking for earlier—slumped lifelessly between the two men calling for help.
Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears, blocking out everything, and her eyes focused only on the man in front of her. Sprinting to the injured fireman, Katy did her best to remain calm. Her finger pressed against his carotid artery, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. She moved her fingers checking for it again. Still nothing.
Her body trembled as panic took over her body. She shook his shoulders trying to rouse him but his head bounced lifelessly. A pot belly pushed against her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away. She thrashed her arms and legs trying to get out of his hold, but he only squeezed her tighter. Watching them take the lifeless man away, she cried out, “Jesse!”
Lyssa Layne is first, and foremost, the proud momma to her precious daughter, AR. In addition to working full-time and being a mommy to AR, she is also an avid St. Louis Cardinals fan, a runner, blogger, and an infertility survivor.
Having watched one too many medical dramas and being inspired by author Rachelle Ayala, who introduced her to the world of indie writing, Lyssa decided to try her hand at writing a romance story. Her attempt turned into the Burning Lovesick series. You can find Lyssa’s own interests throughout her stories although all stories are fictional.
You can visit Lyssa’s writing blog at http://www.lyssalayne.wordpress.com. You can also follow her on Twitter @layne_lyssa or check out her Facebook page at Lyssa Layne Her debut novel, Love is a Fire, is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
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If you liked When Harry Met Sally, you’ll fall in love with Robb and Gertrude from Strangers on a Bus…
Robb is crushed by a failed relationship with the love of his life and finds himself unexpectedly on a long bus trip from his adopted home in the U.S. back to his native Canada.
At the first stop in NYC, a girl gets on and so begins a contemplation of life, love, and strange events that will bring tears of laughter and heartache streaming down your face.
Is this girl Robb’s real true love or just a rebound? How far can they get on a bus ride anyway?
This is a true story.
Robert Manary is an international playboy and man of mystery, with the charm and sophistication of James Bond shaken not stirred with a couple ounces of Cyrano de Bergerac, a dash of Rasputin, and garnished with the rapier wit of Thurston Howell the Third.
That’s how he sees himself, anyway.
The truth is Robert Manary is a construct created to protect the dubious reputation of his Clark Kent like mild mannered writer/puppeteer/the man pulling the levers and breathing life into the Great and Powerful Oz (don’t look too closely behind the curtain).
Manary is an award winning blogger, an erotic romance novel writer, the author of a pretty decent romantic comedy, and for a brief period in the early nineties served as dictator of a small South American country.
Most of that is true.
Manary is also an experimental artist who has no clue how to write an Author’s Bio, and definitely no idea how to end one.
P.S. He is also a shameless plunderer of pop culture.
Find out more at:
The Authors and their Stories
Aaron Calnan has seen enough of the horrors of war. Now, Aaron finds himself immersed in a world where humans work within the realms of the paranormal, where Werewolves and Vampires become friends and Fae like to kick your ass. One encounter changes everything and Aaron finds his life turned upside down. Will he finally find his own piece of heaven?
*All proceeds will benefit The United States War Veteran’s PTSD Foundation*
Genre: Romance Print Length: 288 pages Publisher: e-penguin (May 14, 2014) Sold by: Amazon Digital Services Inc.
After months working on an oil rig in the Atlantic Ocean, engineer Jo Blaine can’t wait to get home. Her job is tough, and she is desperate for some long overdue girl time. The last thing Jo needs when she walks through her front door is to find a strange man staying in her house. When she learns that her uninvited guest is none other than Stephen Hardy, she’s tempted to head straight back out to sea.
Stephen has always felt guilty for the part he played in ruining Jo’s life years earlier and immediately jumps at the chance to make things up to her by looking after her apartment and her giant cranky cat. It takes some fast talking, but Jo is finally convinced to let him stay. And by the time she leaves for her next shift at work, they’re both eagerly anticipating her return. But as they grow closer, it soon becomes clear Jo is hiding something about her past that is coming back to haunt her. After a lifetime of taking care of herself and her sister Amy, Jo isn’t used to sharing her problems, especially when they involve her messy family history. But when threats start to escalate, Jo must decide whether to trust Stephen before her stubborn independence places them all at risk.
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I’d like to introduce Georgina Penney. We first met on Goodreads when she read and reviewed my holiday story, Merry Christmas, Henry. Thrilled with a stranger appreciating my work, I looked her up. I am now a fan of her writing as well. If you have not read Unforgettable You, it needs to be on your TBR list for the summer. I am honored to have her as a guest blogger today.
Well That’s Awkward: Character Names and New Friends
I have a confession to make. I’m relatively sure, in fact I’m almost positive, that my characters are sabotaging my life. Not in a vindictive come-out-of-the-TV-and-scare-the-widdle-out-of-you sort of sabotage. That kind of thing is terminal. Nope, this form of sneakiness is much more subtle. It has everything to do with names. Usually, about one or two months after finishing a manuscript, I will inevitably befriend a person in real life with the same name as my leading gentleman or lady. Why is this a problem, you ask? Well, when you’ve just invested a couple of months in creating a character and contorting them five ways sideways, putting them through all kinds of mayhem (and sometimes naughty stuff) it’s a little difficult to suggest that your new friend read your book, knowing that there’s a risk they’ll assume it’s all about them. Awkward, much? Massively so. I mean, I love a bit of dodginess. I think the people who know me would gladly agree that I’m stupendously dodgy, but there are just some things that are a little hard to come back from in a budding friendship. I wonder if crime fiction writers ever deal with this. They finish their novel, pack it off to the publishers for its slow and onerous journey through the editorial gristmill and woe and behold they make a dear friend out of someone who has the same name as the serial killer they knocked off gruesomely on page three hundred and twenty. What do you think they’d say? “I’m terribly sorry Ignatius, the serial killer I beheaded and then had impaled on an eight foot Christmas tree wasn’t you. Oh no, you weren’t even around when I wrote the scene, it just took a little while for the novel to get published… (insert nervous, strained laughter.)” Well, in my case, it’s a matter of “So sorry Dirk, the male hero, Dirk that I had make love to the heroine in the hot air balloon? The one who has dark hair like yours and just happens to like football too? Ahhh, nope wasn’t modelled on you. I didn’t even know you when I wrote the— oh bugger it, I give up, pour me a glass of wine and we’ll pretend this conversation didn’t happen.”
About The Author
Georgina Penney first discovered romance novels when she was eleven and has been a fan of the genre ever since. It took her another eighteen years to finally sit in front of a keyboard and get something down on the page but that’s alright, she was busy doing other things until then. Today she lives with her wonderful husband, Tony in a wooden stilt house on the edge of the Bornean jungle along with a contrary stray cat named Milli Vanilli. Connect with Georgina:
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Georgina-Penney/e/B00I967F5A/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Other Books by Georgina Penney:
You don’t become a notorious British celebrity without rubbing a few people the wrong way, which is why writer and comedian Ben Martindale has decamped to Australia until the latest media frenzy dies down. When he meets Amy Blaine, a perky blonde who dresses like a 1950s pin-up girl, he knows he’s hit the satirical jackpot. He begins to fill his weekly London column with snarky observations about her life, clothes, and even their most intimate moments. It doesn’t occur to him that Amy, who is letting her guard down for the first time in her adult life, might be upset – after all, it’s hilarious, and his readers love her! It isn’t until Amy discovers the extent of his betrayal that Ben begins to realise just how badly he’s cocked up the best thing that ever happened to him. But is it too late?
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Series: The Diviner’s Trilogy #3
Genre: Epic/Historical Fantasy
Other books in the series designed by Nadica Boskovska
Genre: Contemporary Romance
When Sigrid O’Herlihy and Sandro Totti meet a short time before Christmas—with the help of an injured cat and a pink Vespa—the last thing either wants is love. Sigrid can’t forget the betrayal of her ex-fiance, and Sandro can’t forget the Italian beauty who broke his heart. But the attraction between Sigrid and Sandro is sizzling, so they decide to give lust a try. Love, after all, is for the naive and Sigrid and Sandro, both in their thirties and both determined to avoid future pain, take a more practical approach. With the Eternal City as their playground, the pair enjoy their Vespas—and occasionally Sandro’s fancy Italian sports car—fine wine, and helping homeless animals. A holiday visit to Sandro’s family in Tuscany, however, threatens their no-strings agreement and forces the pair to face their feelings and their fears. Will a little Christmas spirit be enough to bring about a leap of faith?”
“Time to face her, Sandro thought grimly, walking towards the bedroom with two cups of coffee in hand. She was sitting up in bed, having put her panties and shirt back on. She was checking her phone for messages. “Buongiorno,” he said, giving her a kiss on the nose, as though she were an annoying young friend entrusted to his care, not an equal, not a lover. He handed her a cup of piping hot black coffee.
“I didn’t know how you took it, so if you want milk or sugar, I can go get those for you.”
“No, no, black is fine. No calories.” She smiled. Awkward, she thought.
“You are slim. You could stand to take some kilos.”
“Women love hearing that,” she said. “And I am sure my remaining weeks in Italy will help in that regard.” Goodness, I sound so stilted, she thought. My remaining weeks in Italy will help me in that regard? I sound like a visiting public official. Such passion with this man last night and now we’re all weird and formal with each other. “The food here is amazing. But I try to be careful, now that I’m over thirty. Weight doesn’t come off easily as one gets older.”
“You look like a kid. I couldn’t believe it last night when you said you were over thirty.”
Finally! “Thanks, yes, I’ll be thirty-two in March.”
“And not married?”
“No,” she said indignantly. “But neither are you and you are how old?”
“I haven’t said.”
“I know, but how old are you?”
“I’ll be thirty-four in May. But it’s different for men.”
Sigrid rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Have you heard from the vet?” Best to change the topic, she told herself, than embark on a never-ending argument about double standards.
“For once you don’t want to fight with me,” he smiled.
“No, I don’t. How is Pinot? Have you heard anything yet?”
“The bad news is that he will have to have his front right leg amputated. The good news is that he can live well like that, provided he is cared for safely indoors, and the even better news is that the staff at the hospital say he is much less of a street cat than we realized. He is friendlier now that he has been fed and given some flea treatments and is feeling more trusting.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I am saying that he needn’t be euthanized. I know that you were against that and I only thought it was an option when I believed he was a very feral cat who could never live indoors.”
“We have to find a home for him, though. I can take him, of course, and I will if needs be, but it would be better to find someone in Rome. I mean, if he comes to Canada with me he’ll have to learn to speak English, just for starters, though, of course, there is a big Italian community in Toronto.”
Sandro laughed. “For a moment I thought you were serious. You can really be quite funny when you aren’t being difficult.”
“Well, thank you, I think. But I wasn’t fully kidding. I mean, he would have to learn English in Canada.”
“Yes, well, in fact, that won’t be a problem. We don’t have to find a home for him. I have been informed that one of the young veterinary technicians at the animal hospital has already fallen in love with him and is determined to adopt him and take him into her home once his surgery has been successfully completed. I can’t think of a better match, for she will know all the proper care he might need as a cat with a disability. And of course, he will have to be neutered, as well.” Sandro winced and put his hand protectively between his legs as he said the word.
Sigrid laughed. “It’s not you being neutered!” And what a tragedy that would be.
“Well, I know, but I feel for him.”
“Believe me when I tell you, it’s better for him to be neutered, for myriad reasons.”
“Certo. My father will be happy to hear this outcome—he was worried about the little fellow yesterday. And the Totti family will be happy to pick up the cost of the surgeries and recovery time in the hospital for Pinot.”
Sigrid gasped. She had gotten so carried away the night before she hadn’t even realized that Sandro’s father might have been right down the hall the whole time. “Your father? Is he here? Does he know that I’m here?”
“No, no, don’t worry. He went to Tuscany late yesterday afternoon. We are alone here. Now, can I get you some breakfast? Would you like to take a shower? I don’t mean to rush you but I have some meetings starting in about an hour.” It was a lie. He had no meetings, at least not that morning.
Sigrid felt a figurative jackboot in the gut. Any woman who had been single long enough could recognize what was happening. Something had changed. Sandro wanted her out of there and he wanted her out of there fast. No post-sex cuddling or cooing and billing. He was distancing himself, drawing lines. It was the apparently inevitable “Baby Don’t Get Hooked on Me” moment.”
BY AUBREY WYNNE
Aubrey Wynne is a member of the Coffee Talk Writers and a guest reviewer. This review was originally published on June 12 on http://coffeetalkwriters.com
Amore and Pinot-Grigio is a classic love story. Both main characters came out of relationships that left them sour on romance. Sigrid O’Herlihy is a Canadian determined to tackle Rome with enthusiasm and independence. (I would not manuever those narrow streets and raucous drivers on a pink moped.) Deceived by her fiancee, she is on a mission to forget men and love. Sandro Totti is haunted by another Italian beauty who broke his heart. When they meet, sparks fly but both decide they will proceed with a ‘no-strings attached’ attitude. The scenes are steamy but do not border erotica.
This practical relationship works perfectly until Sandro decides to take Sigrid to his family’s house in Tuscany. (Again, travel lovers will eat up the details. No pun intended!) Things start to unravel from here. Do you run the other way when true feelings of passion come to the forefront? Do you take a chance and trust someone one more time?
What starts out as a typical ‘boy meets ‘girl’ formula quickly turns into a warm and entertaining holiday romance with the necessary misunderstandings and memorable secondary characters. Ms. Bell creates an adorable accomplice in Guido (cats and animals in general brought the pair together). The story also included the magic of Christmas and a mysterious man, Niccoli, who offers advice and guidance. But will the two scorned lovers listen and allow love to heal their scarred hearts?
As a past tourist in Italy, this took me back and made me appreciate the Eternal City all over again. It brings me back to spectacular vacation packed with wonderful wine, food and lovely people. Those who have not visited will want to book a ticket after closing this book. I am also a humane investigator so the animal rescue theme made me smile and appreciate both characters even more. Love, Christmas, cute furry rescues–what more do you want? I give this story a hearty four mugs.
Hot, strong, and addicting!
Plot and pacing: 12/15
Technique and Editing: 9/10
About The Author
Veronica Bell grew up in British Columbia, Canada. She loves wine, travel, reading, writing, her handsome husband and her adorable pets…and not in that order. ‘Amore and Pinot Grigio: A Guido la Vespa Christmas Tale’ is her first book and she is working on a sequel which will allow Guido la Vespa to make some more mischief.
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For The Love of Westerns
By Aubrey Wynne
I was raised on old westerns. High Noon with Gary Cooper, Who Shot Liberty Valance with Jimmy Stewart and anything with John Wayne. My family gathered around the television to watch Bonanza and Gunsmoke every week. I read Louis L’Amour and Zane Grey. Fortunately, the Western is alive and well: Dances With Wolves, Open Range, Lonesome Dove and the many authors who continue to pay tribute to the Wild West. And now the modern western maintains the tradition of the rugged cowboy for a whole new generation. Leave us a comment and share your favorite movie or novel.
Shirleen Davies Top 10 Western Movies/Shows
1. Winchester ’73 with James Stewart
2. The Searches with John Wayne
3. Dances with Wolves with Kevin Costner
4. Lonesome Dove with Robert Duvall
5. High Noon with Gary Cooper
6. The Outlaw Josey Wales with Clint Eastwood
7. Stagecoach with John Wayne
8. Red River with John Wayne
9. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance with James Stewart
10. Will Penny with Charleston Heston