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Welcome to my place in the blogosphere!
feel free to explore the Flight Deck and check out my books and website.
Then fasten your seatbelts, sip a glass of something sparkling and let's chat awhile!
I hope you'll stop by again for guest authors and spotlights from time to time.

Beloved Enemy joined Starquest and Children of the Mist to continue the Destiny Trilogy and I'm thrilled to announce was shortlisted for the R.N.A. RoNA Awards 2017, awarded 2nd Runner up in the RONE Awards 2017 and was the winner in the SF/Fantasy category of the 'Best Banter Contest'.

Tuesday 12 August 2014

To Tempt An Angel, super book blast and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patricia will be awarding a free eBook from Lachesis Publishing to a randomly drawn winner via the rafflecopter at the end of this post during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

NOTE: this book is FREE everywhere!  Buy links are at the end of this post -- why not download your own copy today?

Angelica Douglas has no idea that she’s the Countess of Melrose. What she does know is that she needs to support her family as a card shark, while finding a way to seek revenge on the men who ruined her father and sent her family spiralling down into poverty.

Robert Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, heir to the Duke of Inverary, has no idea who Angelica truly is. He just wants to watch over her and make her his mistress.

Angelica thinks Robert is simply a dashing rogue who is far too dangerous for her peace of mind. Robert thinks Angelica is an angel except when she’s being a pain in the behind.

When Robert finds out that his own father may have been one of the men who ruined Angelica’s family, he vows to keep a careful eye on her. When Angelica finds out that Robert’s father may have been one of the men responsible, she vows to stay as far away from Robert as possible. But when danger threatens, both Robert and Angelica must face the truth and let fate take the upper hand.

Enjoy an excerpt:

London, 1812

He knew she was cheating.

Angelica read the suspicion in the man's alcohol-glazed eyes. She was confident of her talent, so being caught didn't worry her, but drunks almost always proved dangerous. With the exception of her own father, of course.

Eighteen-year-old Angelica Douglas wet her lips, gone dry from nervousness, and felt a droplet of perspiration roll slowly down the valley between her breasts. Reaching up, she brushed a wisp of golden hair away from her face and adjusted the wreath of fresh-cut flowers she wore like a crown on her head.

Angelica gave her intended victim a sunny smile and flicked a glance at the group of fairgoers gathered in front of her table. Seated on a stool, she began moving the thimbles around and around on the makeshift table that consisted of a board resting on top of a trestle.

“Stop,” the man growled.

Angelica looked at him expectantly.

He pointed at the middle thimble. Angelica lifted it to reveal nothing and laughed with delight.

“Yer cheatin',” he accused her, his foul breath making her stomach queasy.

Seemingly unruffled, Angelica looked him straight in the eye. “Sir, you are a poor loser,” she told him in an affronted tone. “Would you care to throw dice instead?”

“I ain’t throwin’ dice with no girl,” the man snapped, and turned to go.

“Afraid?” Angelica challenged him, making her audience laugh with approval. When the man kept walking, she shifted her blue-eyed gaze to those watching and asked, “Would anyone care to throw dice with me?”

“I would love to throw with you,” answered a voice in a tone suggesting intimacy.

The crowd parted for the handsomest man Angelica had ever seen. Older than she by ten years at least, the black-haired and dark-eyed English Adonis carried his tall, well-built frame with athletic grace. Though commonly dressed in black breeches and white shirt, the man had the bearing of an aristocrat.

Sacred sevens, Angelica thought, his devilishly good looks startling her. She felt as if Old Clootie, in all his sinful perfection, had stepped out of the crowd to lead her astray.

I'm a dog person. Who lives with 10 cats. Get the picture?

My first brush with the romance genre happened in my high school junior year. I discovered Gone With the Wind and hid it behind my American history book to read during class. (The Civil War is American history.) The ambiguous ending left me dissatisfied, though. Rhett and Scarlet needed a happily-ever-after. Believing in happily-ever-afters positively screams romantic-at-heart.

On the other hand, I love murder and mayhem as much as happily-ever-after. My usual television fare is fiction and nonfiction crime shows, not love stories. Which accounts for the mysteries I sneaked into my historical romances. Now I'm trying my hand at writing a humorous mystery, sans historical and sans emphasis on the love interest. I even prepared for my mystery-in-progress by attending the local NRA's Pistol School. Shooting pistols is great fun. I adore the .22 semiautomatics.

After graduating from high school without distinction, I earned both Bachelor and Master degrees at a state college. Again, without distinction. I held several part-time jobs during my college days: file clerk in an insurance company, long-distance telephone operator, kimono-wearing waitress in a Japanese restaurant.

And then I began my teaching career, eighteen years in the eighth grade and thirteen years at the high school. Weary with the same old routine, I decided I needed a creative outlet. So I decided to write a romance novel but only managed to talk about writing one. After five years of listening to me, a friend said to stop talking and start writing.

So I did.

I made every mistake known to man. Blunder would be a more appropriate word, but I did learn using the trial and error method. As well as studying the works of authors I admired.

After five years of writing for nothing but love, I sold my first novel. Since then, I've sold eighteen novels and won several awards--- National Readers' Choice Award New England Readers' Choice Award, Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice and KISS Awards, B. Dalton and Bookrak Awards for best-selling author. My novels have been translated into fifteen languages and sold in twenty countries.

If I had my life over, would I become a writer? Nope. I would enjoy being a Victoria Secret model. Perhaps in my next incarnation I won't be too old, too short, or too unphotogenic.





a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday 11 August 2014

Tribute to Bouncer

Bouncer at the shelter, before we adopted him
Instead of my 'Welsh Legend Monday' I'm devoting today to my beloved little 'rescue', Jack Russell, Bouncer.

Tragically we had to have him put to sleep last Thursday. He had several brain tumours and had slowed down over the last few months, although he was still happy and mischievous, and very, very 'knowing'.  On Wednesday night he started having convulsions and on Thursday we had to make the terribly sad decision to make sure he did not suffer any more.

Bouncer first came into our lives in September 2007.  I had emailed an animal shelter in Wales and they sent me his picture. There were other dogs available for rehoming, but how could I possibly refuse that little face and the silent plea in those dark eyes?  I knew he was meant to be ours.

From the minute he stepped through the door it was as if he'd always been part of the family.  I put the blanket we'd bought for him which he'd been lying on, on the way home, in his bed and he climbed straight into it and curled up, quite at home.  Among his new toys was a red, plush dragon which he 'loved' to death. After a few weeks it was as flat as a pancake, and missing its eyes and horns, but he slept with it every night of his life with us.

He'd been badly treated in the past, and his hip had been broken and allowed to heal without a vet, so it healed a bit crooked and he walked with a bit of a swagger, with his feet pointing to a quarter to three, like a little penguin, as he 'sashayed' along.

He was such an inquisitive little dog and soon found a small hole in the garden fence where he could spy on next door's cat.
I think he believed if he slept on a growbag, he might turn into a Great Dane and not have to stand on flowerpots.

He loved going down  to the horses with us, and would investigate every nook and cranny of the feedroom, where he could probably smell the resident mice and our 'feral' stable cats. 
His favourite thing in the world was his 'treatball' and as soon as he finished his morning and evening meals he would sit and ask for it to be filled with treats and chase it around, batting it with his nose or his paw to get the treats out with a dexterity and expertise that would have made David Beckham green with envy!

About two years ago he started to lose his sight and gradually went completely blind, but he didn't allow it to interfere with his enjoyment of life and still managed to get around and play with his treatball and enjoy his daily 'walkie'. In November last year he had what the vet at first thought was a 'mini stroke' but scans revealed to be inoperable brain tumours. We were devastated.  How could our clever, happy little dog have this inflicted on him on top of everything else?  For a while we thought we were going to lose him, but he was such a little fighter and after a week or so on new medication, bounced back, true to his name, and it was hard to believe there was anything wrong with him, he certainly didn't lose any of his zest for life, or knowing ways, and was still as bright as a button.

We went 'home' to Wales for a few days last week and while we were there he began to have convulsions and we knew it was time to say goodbye to our beloved little friend and companion. He is buried, his paw resting on his red dragon,  in a lovely, peaceful spot on my sister's land, with her two dogs. It seems fitting that he should be laid to rest in Wales, where he came from.  He will be sorely missed by us and everyone who knew him, and will never ever be forgotten.  Rest In Peace little Bouncer, and wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge.