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Archive for October, 2012

And, yet another The Wild Rose Press author joins me today for Friday Funny. Please welcome Nancy Jardine. The excerpt she sent for Take Me Now is both cute and has the chemistry buzzing between her two main characters. What a treat! Enjoy:

Lead in:

Aela Cameron goes to the Scottish island of Lanera, to interview for a temporary job with Nairn Malcolm. In plaster casts, after a mysterious accident, Nairn now needs a pilot and an office manager. Unfortunately, the travesty of an interview is only three days after the accident; he’s still concussed and collapses. Aela puts Nairn to bed, with help from his father, Ruaridh. Checking him during the night has its moments.

The following morning…

 

Excerpt:

“I do initial consultations for the expensive yachts and vessels we produce, at venues of the client’s choice, hence the need to travel so much. Ruaridh handles other negotiations here on Lanera.”

 “Okay, got Gale Breakers.” Aela’s mumble came after Nairn rattled off the last details on Gale Breakers.

Another of Nairn’s companies used worldwide locations for providing extreme sporting experiences—water based ones like white water rafting, river tubing, canyoning and different kinds of bungee jumping. 

“Adrenalinn Adventuring?” she asked, remembering the name from her initial searches.

Nairn nodded. An attempt to steeple his fingers failed and mild curses ensued when his arm cast slipped off the edge of the desk. His grumpy moans about his ineptitude made her smile. It was gratifying to know the guy could laugh at himself, and loosen up a bit, though Nairn Malcolm laughing at himself was just too unsettling.

“I’m impressed, Miss Cameron. How did you know that?”

Her answer was nonchalant. “A little internet research before coming to Lanera yesterday. Your companies have nice names, and sell exciting merchandise.”

Nairn’s tight smile acknowledged his appreciation of her compliment as she continued to jot.

“Adrenalinn Adventuring also provide land based experiences like tank driving, dirt buggies, quad biking, sphereing, bogshoeing,” he rattled on.

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold on a minute.” The peremptory, pleading tone she used stemmed his flow. She’d devised her own system for note taking, but his lecture was stretching it to the absolute limit. Smiling up at him, an apologetic grin broke free. “Got my notes in a tangle. Can you backtrack, please?”

“Do you always take such thorough notes, Miss Cameron?”

Aela looked to see if he was teasing; his infinitesimal change of tone implied it as he made proper eye contact with her. How disconcerting! There was just something there he wasn’t quite masking. A flush of arousal rippled through her that she squashed, again. It took a moment to rally her thoughts enough to answer him.

“Initially, till I’ve got the basics,” she said, changing her pencil during the lull. “Okay, so those last pursuits? Did you say sphereing?

“Rolling down a hill in a large plastic ball like a hamster,” Nairn drolly supplied. A hint of a smile broke free, a marginal twinkle in both of his eyes.

Oh my! Aela’s stomach flipped again. The man was definitely thawing. Why did his almost-smile have to be so appealing? She remembered the feel of those lips against her own and wished she hadn’t for she wanted reruns, and more reruns. But that wasn’t going to happen again. In a contrary way she didn’t want him to be anything other than a detached employer. Temporary job, that was all. She determined to keep her tone light and airy. “Yeah! I know that as zorbing. Tried it in New Zealand. Fantastic fun.”

“I expect you had lots of experiences on this world trip of yours, Miss Cameron.”

Nairn’s low husky tones rippled down her backbone: far too delicious.

“Oh, I did, sir.” She decided she wasn’t rising to his cryptic bait, sexual or otherwise. Her clarification sounded prim, even to her own ears. “On my trip I experienced things I wouldn’t have done at home, all equally exciting. But I’ve never heard of, or tried bogshoeing.”

Want More?

Blurb:

Nairn Malcolm’s looking for the impossible. He needs a highly skilled, enterprising aide who’ll be at his beck and call 24/7. No ordinary Jane Doe will do. He doesn’t expect the only candidate who drops in at his Scottish castle for an interview to be so competent…or so stunning.

Aela Cameron’s got exactly the right mix of talents to satisfy all Nairn Malcolm’s needs, and more. She loves the jobs he needs done, adores his castle, and finds his frenetic lifestyle energising. But she’s only looking for temporary: not to fall in love with the man.

Can Nairn convince Aela she’s tailor-made for him in every way…and not a passing fancy?

Buy it now!  and visit Nancy on her Blog!

Watch the Trailer!

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I’d like to welcome another The Wild Rose Press author, Sandra Dailey, to Friday Funny! Boy, do we have some awesomely talented authors, or what?! I’m definitely up for that sorority house luncheon. 😉 Read on, and I bet you’ll be in line with me.

Lead in:

In this scene, her hero, Sheriff Brett Silverfeather (aka Chief), has been hospitalized with a gunshot wound. If any of you have ever had your man go into the hospital, you know their only concern is getting out.

Scene:

Ginny visited Brett at the hospital on Saturday and Sunday, but the room had been crowded with friends, neighbors, family, cops from every law enforcement branch and other emergency responders. Essentially, every adult within a fifty mile radius came through his room. They hadn’t had a single moment alone since they shared their first kiss on Friday night. They’d barely made eye contact. Neither of them knew what to say to the other. Neither of them knew that it had been the only thing on the other’s mind.

The hospital staff was almost as annoyed as Brett by the constant flow of visitors. Visiting hours were bad enough, but law enforcement officers and emergency personnel were allowed the run of the hospital at all hours. No one could get any rest, least of all the patient.

Everyone had finally been run out of the room on Sunday evening when Dr. Baxter walked in to check Brett’s wound.

“You’ve got to get me out of here, Doc,” Brett groused. “I haven’t had two consecutive hours of sleep since Friday morning. If you don’t sign my release tonight, this is going to turn into a murder suicide situation.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about it from the nurses,” Dr. Baxter laughed. “They say you’re more popular than Brad Pitt in the nude at a sorority house luncheon. Now Chief, I’ve known you for ten years and I know I can’t trust you to take your medication. Also, you’re hardly in any position to keep these bandages changed. But one thing’s for certain, something has to be done. The staff is threatening to walk out if I don’t get this floor under control.”

Brett leaned forward and winced. “I’ll do anything to sleep in my own quiet, soft, big bed, anything. You’re looking at a desperate man.”

“Yeah, I got that idea when you threatened to kill me.” The doctor thought for a few minutes before he continued. “Okay, I’ll let you go, but you have to agree to follow three rules, and I mean to the letter. First, you have to take a full series of antibiotics on time until they’re gone. If you get an infection, it’ll be a long time before you see sunlight again. Second, no use of that injured arm, it stays in a sling at all times, even when you’re sleeping. You can prop it on a pillow. And last but definitely not least, no Ginny. I know you just got married, but things could get out of control in a moment of passion and you could pull out all of Dr. Carlisle’s fancy stitching. Then you’ll be in here for so long, you’ll get a permanent, fluorescent light tan.”

“I’ll do it,” Brett said with enthusiasm. “Call Ginny and tell her to come back with a pair of jeans. I’ll be out of here so fast you’ll only see my vapor trail.”

The Chief’s Proposal COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Sandra Dailey

Want more? Here’s the blurb:

Ginny Dearing has finally realized her goal of teaching, but finding a position is proving impossible. After exhausting all possibilities, an Internet ad is her only hope. In a small town hundreds of miles away there is a job with one huge string attached…a husband.

Burned by love once, Brett Silverfeather finds his bachelor life more than satisfying. He’s facing re-election for sheriff, but this time the voters are looking for a family man. Brett finds himself pursuing a marriage he doesn’t want.

Ginny and Brett are opposite in every way, but opposites do attract. Can Brett protect his heart as well as he does his town? Can Ginny hide a secret past that could possibly destroy her future?

Buy it HERE! Visit Sandra HERE!

Bio:

I live in a crowd. I have six siblings, my husband has seven. Together we have four children and seven grandchildren. With a family that large, you see it all; comedy, tragedy, romance, suspense, etc… There’s enough material to keep one writer busy for the rest of her life.

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Please welcome fellow Rose Kae Elle Wheeler from The Wild Rose Press! I owe her and last week’s guest huge apologies. I was under the influence of a nasty head cold and got my days wrong. I’m so very sorry, and thank you for understanding to all who were inconvenienced in this snafu.

Now, onto our scene. 🙂

Lead in:

Pricilla is disturbed by a discrepancy she’s stumbled across regarding the harvest returns versus labor number in her position as Land Agent. So she sets out to question the Northern tenant, Silas Huntley, on her findings. Silas is highly offended. Sir Arnald, in the beginning, thinks seeing Silas set Lady Pricilla in her place would be highly amusing, until he remembers Silas, is a male chauvinist still living in medieval times.

Scene from The Unlikely Heroine:

Monsieur Huntley, ’tis only a simple question,” Lady Pricilla said primly.
 
Arnald detected her frustration as surely as Silas’s irritation. He imagined her lips in a grim line, and he’d be surprised if she were not standing with her hands on her hips. He hoped that was not the case.
 
“It sounds more like’n an accusation,” he returned. His tone hovered in a dangerous resonance.
 
“It is not an accusation, sir,” she said stiffly. “All I know is that there is a problem with the figures on your report. My research indicates this has been going on for some ten seasons. Perhaps longer.”
 
Arnald lifted his eyes to the low ceiling. As intelligent as he attributed Lady Pricilla, he’d have to take off marks for lack of subtlety. And what did she mean ‘ten seasons’?
 
Monsieur Huntley, kindly remove your hands from my person!” Lady Pricilla’s fury snapped Arnald into action. He swept into the room almost bumping into Lady Pricilla “kindly” being escorted from the small parlor. The sight that beget him had him hard pressed to keep his lips from curling. Dainty slippers dug into the shiny wood floors, gliding easily with Silas’s unwanted help.
 
Arnald wisely hid his amusement, noting the heightened color of her fury, tension, blatant.
 
“Silas,” Arnald acknowledged coolly.
 
“Sir Arnald.” Silas’s hands dropped from Lady Pricilla’s arm so suddenly, she would have tumbled backward had Arnald not snatched an arm to keep her upright. With a deft move, he maneuvered her slightly behind him. A slight huff of disgust reached his ears.
“I’ll not be accused of any misappropriation by the mouth of a chit,” Silas thundered. The walls shook with timbre pitch.
 
Arnald felt his self-appointed charge stiffen with outrage. “Silas,” Arnald said coldly. “Might I remind you, sir, you are speaking with an agent of the Crown. Designated, I might add, from Prince Charming, himself.”
 
Silas may have dropped his head in a submissive gesture, eyes lowered, but his shoulders registered disrespect.
 
“My apologies, Lady Pricilla.” Silas deferred in a mild tone, the gesture was offered as subterfuge, not genuine acquiescence.
 
Lady Pricilla bristled, ready with a retort of her own. At once, Arnald realized, she had not appreciated someone speaking on her behalf. “Monsieur Huntley—” she started.

On the other hand, it seemed knowing when to stop was not in her conscionable abilities. 

Want more?

Blurb:

Pricilla is one damsel who does not need rescuing by a Prince Charming unlike her sister, Cinderella. She is a woman with brains and determined to use them as Chalmers Kingdom’s first female Land Agent. 

Sir Arnald is used to women falling at his feet.  After all, his mother’s magical matchmaking machinations are all too obvious. Yet somehow Lady Pricilla is immune to these hexes and those of his own compellation powers. 

Things turn deadly when Pricilla and Arnald stumble upon a hoard of villains smuggling goods.  Where true love discovers them.

Available on Smashwords, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble

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 Giveaway alert! Mackenzie is giving away a copy of her e-book to one lucky visitor! Just pop in a comment on this post to be entered. Easy-peasy.

Please help me welcome Mackenzie Crowne to the Friday Funny ranks. Y’all are in for a treat. The scene from That Dating Thing needs no lead in, so sit back and enjoy.

Scene:

Rylee gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow, maneuvering the unwieldy load of debris toward the bay doors at the back of the building. A sudden shaft of early morning sunlight snagged her attention, streaming through the opening front door. She dropped the rails of the wheelbarrow to the cement floor with a thump when Coop strolled inside, a tray of coffees in one hand, a baker’s box in the other.

“Is this where I check in for duty?” he asked of no one in particular.

The breeze off the river left his black hair mussed and weekend stubble darkened his square chin. Dressed in threadbare jeans and a faded, Harvard T-shirt, molded to the powerful chest she’d explored with her mouth just a few hours earlier, the up-and-coming lawyer looked right at home in the midst of power tools and construction debris.

“Coop.” Rylee shot a quick glance at Brian, rolling her eyes at the knowing smile accompanying his raised eyebrows. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a brief you need to finish?”

“I’ll get to it later.” He looked around the signs of destruction. “I thought you could use an extra pair of hands.”

Brian stepped over to the boom box, twisting the dial to lower the volume, while Rylee did her best to hide her dismay.

This morning’s session of backbreaking manual labor was meant to serve a dual purpose. First, her need to have a hand in the Foundation’s latest project, and second, to allow her some time to regroup, analyze her actions and the corresponding emotions of the last few weeks with a clear head.

Because intelligent thought proved impossible with Coop anywhere in the vicinity, she’d left him before the sun came up, asleep in her bed, a circumstance occurring with alarming frequency since the night of her awkward seduction. Not that she minded. On the contrary. This morning she’d had to force herself to walk away from the big, naked, bruiser tangled in her sheets. And therein lay the problem. Being with Cooper Reed was becoming far too necessary for her peace of mind.

Worse, her need to be with him wasn’t just for the sex, although, holy cow! She’d never known her body was capable of such sensual greed. Forget slut, she was turning into a nymphomaniac. All Coop had to do was look at her a certain way and the next thing she knew, her panties were down around her ankles. But the quiet conversation, the shared humor and comfortable silences were what worried her. Coop wasn’t just another handsome face. He was a nice guy. The type of guy she would happily cast in the role of forever-man—if not for dear old dad.

Just the thought of Pete Morris should have been enough to keep her heart in line, but with each passing day, that foolish organ came closer to succumbing to the inevitable. The smart thing to do would be to make up some excuse to walk away, cutting her losses before it was too late.

Unfortunately, with Coop she couldn’t seem to manage smart. She was stuck on stupid.

“Coffee is always appreciated.” Brian plucked one of the cups from the tray. “So is slave labor. Coop, this is Tony Camponelli, project foreman. Tony, Cooper Reed. He’s a lawyer with the district attorney’s office.” Brian pinned Rylee with a mischievous arch of his brows. “Rylee thinks he’s hot.”

She gasped and heat flooded her cheeks. The intentional dig earned him a scowl. His answering smile shoved the scowl toward a glare. She had seen that particular smile a thousand times over the years and had come out on the short end of the stick with most of its appearances.

Coop grinned, setting aside the coffee and donuts to shake Tony’s hand.

“An extra set of hands will definitely come in handy.” Brian ignored the warning daggers she shot at him through narrowed eyes, and indicated her with a nod of his head. “She may look good, but she’s too puny to be of any real help.”

“Hey!”

“We offered to get her a toy wheelbarrow,” Tony added congenially. “One she can actually handle, but she’s stubborn.”

Double teamed by a couple of grinning baboons.

Coop eyed her tormentors. “She doesn’t look puny to me.”

“That’s because you’ve seen her naked.”

“Brian!”

“Have you seen her swing a hammer?” he continued, ignoring her horrified outburst. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You are so dead,” she gritted from between clenched teeth.

“Who needs skills with a hammer,” Coop’s laughing blue gaze scanned her hips, “when you can fill out a tool belt like that?”

Her jaw dropped.

“There is that.” Brian grinned, clearly delighted by Coop’s contribution to the juvenile razzing.

“Have you seen her walk?” Tony added and whistled through his teeth. “She’s a safety hazard in heels. I’ve banned her from showing up when the crew is around. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s an OSHA plant.”

“Hel-l-o-o-o.” She waved a hand in front of Tony’s face. “Standing right here. Cataloguing evidence for my sexual harassment lawsuit.”

“I can give you the name of a good lawyer,” Coop said, deadpan.

The baboons found his comment hilarious.

Three-on-one were insurmountable odds. Especially when the three suffered from a clear case of testosterone overload—left over from junior high, no doubt.

“Morons,” she growled, hefting the handles of the wheelbarrow. It wobbled, almost toppling over before she regained control. Male laughter echoed through the building, following her outside.

That Dating Thing Blurb:

The daughter of Wall Street’s most notorious stock swindler, dog trainer, Rylee Pierce has perfected the art of flying beneath society’s radar. Prosecutor, Cooper Reed is a threat to her carefully hidden truths, but how is a woman supposed to resist a man capable of handling a psychotic Great Dane while charming her out of her panties before she has the chance to blink?

Available in Ebook and Print!

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