Monday, May 23, 2022

Sorry I've been such a bad SRR author...by Kristin Wallace

I have to start off this post with an apology. I’ve been MIA for a while. The truth is I’ve also been MIA from writing for a while. First, I’ve been dealing with a terrible “brain fog” that I can’t seem to solve completely. This makes it difficult to focus in the same way that I once did. The ideas don’t’ flow, and frankly, the voices that once lived in my head have been pretty silent lately. 

 

Maybe it’s also a form of burnout. After 16 books, written while working full-time “day jobs” that also includes writing, I just don’t feel the same excitement or urge to sit down and write my books. I managed to write a Christmas novella last year, which was only 20,000 words, and even that was a struggle. 

 

I also wonder if the COVID pandemic, and all the drama, worry, crazy politics, and angst surrounding it, made writing more difficult. Just like it became less important to put on real clothes and makeup every day, it seems somehow less urgent to write about fantasy romance. (Although you’d think it would be the opposite.)

 

I hope things change at some point because I do miss creating new characters and places. I miss writing in many ways and the joy I felt as characters came to life in my head. 

 

But I WILL do better about communicating with you.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Something Blue by Janice Lynn

 Wedding season is here! Already my social media feed is filled with love and smiles from happy couples. I often think how wonderful it would be if the way couples look at each other on their wedding day was exactly how they still looked at each other after 50+ years together. I know some couples who do, fictional & real life) This week has been a fun week as I had a short romance to come out with some dear friends on Tuesday. All our stories have a wedding theme. To be honest, mine is quite tame compared to some of the fun these ladies wrote. There's something for everyone with boy next door, wedding rivals, amnesia, beach weddings, destination weddings, puppies, and more.  


My story features Lacey Collins who has had a crush on her older brother's best friend for what feels like her whole life. She hasn't seen him in 10 years, but is about to come face-to-face again at her brother's weekend wedding in the Georgia mountains. I did a chat this week with several of the authors and we discussed titles and some of them are so fab--Petals and Playlists...I mean, that's such a great wedding story title. And, The Wedding Rivals--I instantly know what the story is about. Wedding Veils and Puppy Tails--how cute is that? Sigh, I just want to curl up with this e-book and read, read, read. 

There are 18 stories for just 99 cents through tomorrow, so grab your copy asap. But if you missed the introductory special price, no worries as this collection is still a bargain at $6.99.  



Say "I do" to this collection of 18 sweet wedding-themed romantic comedies by some amazing bestselling authors and get swept away in the wedding magic.
Kobo: https://tinyurl.com/yckkmhx2

Janice's Wrapped Up in Christmas books from Hallmark Publishing are available, also!
Buy Your Copy HERE

USA Today, Wall Street Journal, & Publishers Weekly Bestselling author JANICE LYNN lives in Tennessee with her Prince Charming and their princes and princesses, her vivid imagination, an adorable Maltese named Halo who's the true royalty of the house, and bunches of unnamed dust bunnies that moved in after Janice started her writing career. In addition to writing romance, Janice is a nurse practitioner, a quilter, an exercise queen, a military mama, and an avid supporter of the Quilts of Valor Foundation. Just kidding on the exercise queen. www.janicelynn.com  The WRAPPED UP IN CHRISTMAS books are available at AMAZON Barnes & Noble WALMART & many other place where you buy books. WRAPPED UP IN CHRISTMAS LOVE is coming Christmas 2023.

Thursday, May 19, 2022

I Had Questions by Merri Maywether

Close to twenty-five years ago, my husband and I were married. We eloped at the end of August and had a Vegas destination wedding in November. The wedding was fun. I’d go as far as to say life-altering (hee hee ). With that being said, other than the ceremony, the only event that stuck with me was the roller coaster ride at the MGM Grand. 


My husband’s mother, Irene, rode in the seat in front of us, and his brother and niece rode in the seat behind us. From start to finish, Irene giggled.  The sweet sound rose the minute the cars creaked on the track, remained through the looped-de-loop, and then she laughed a little harder when we were jarred through the swirls. 

Everyone else was screaming. 


My husband’s then seventy-year-old mother laughed. 


I’d always wondered what she was thinking. 


Then, last week, I had an experience that answered the question. 


Every year a team of teachers takes the senior class on a celebratory trip. This year, it was my turn. 


On a whirlwind adventure, we visited several iconic Montana destinations. My favorite stop was our stay at the Fairmont Hot Springs. 


The Fairmont Hot Springs is fed by a natural spring, and they are the temperature of bathwater. That in itself is exciting. But there’s a little more to add to the fun. At the edge of the spring, there is a swirly slide that ends with a plunge into the water. 



Of course, the kids talked me into trying it. 


I’ll be honest. At first, I was nervous. 


I had questions. 


What if I’m too big? What if I get stuck? What if I go too fast and bump into the walls? What if my bathing suit fails? What if there is a sinkhole beneath the pool and it opens up just as I land, and I plummet into uncertainty? (Hey, I’m a writer so I have a gloriously vivid imagination) 


The questions taunted me as I walked up the three flights of stairs. 

I actually thought about pretending I had to go to the bathroom and turning around. 


Then it was my turn. 


I sat at the top of the slide. A buzzer sounded, and gravity took over. 


It was almost like it tickled me. 


I started giggling. It was kind of fun. 


After the first swirl, I bounced into the air. But I landed–and the giggle grew into a laugh. 


At the next swirl, I decided I really like this. 


Somewhere after the third swirl, daylight reflected off the side. The next thing I knew, water was going up my nose, and I could hear the kids cheering. 


I gushed at how much fun it was and thanked them for talking me into taking the metaphorical leap. 


Left to my own resources, I’d have been happy soaking in the water on the edge and watching everyone else have fun. All it took was a gentle, “This is the only time we’ll be able to do this together.


As we climbed the stairs for our second foray down the slide, they said, “We heard you laughing all the way down.” 


Later that night, when all was quiet, it was like Irene whispered in my ear. “Now, you know.”




*****



Today's a special day at the Sweet Reads Cafe.
Make sure to visit the Facebook group and join the fun. 

*****


Merri Maywether lives with her husband in rural Montana. You can find her in the town's only coffee house listening to three generations of Montanans share their stories. Otherwise, she's in the classroom or the school library, inspiring the next generation's writers.


*****

Brock Buchanan's homecoming starts when the summer festivities begin.


Brock made sacrifices for his military career. Love is at the top of the list. Now it’s time to build bridges he shouldn’t have burned.

Katie thought she was over Brock. When she reconnects with him at a high school reunion, she’ll need 20/20 hindsight of everything that went wrong to resist his let’s try again charm.

If that doesn't work, she has something or someone to remind her to guard her heart.

Or could that work in Brock’s favor?

There’s a reason why Brock is Home for Good. Read this heartwarming, small town, clean romance and find out why.


For a limited time, Home for Good is available for 99¢ 


Amazon| Apple | B&N| Kobo

Wednesday, May 18, 2022

New Release by Lyn Cote


A duet of heartwarming, clean romance mysteries with characters, some four-footed, you won't easily forget. And a second chance at love for a later in life heroine. 


First story:Two wounded souls, a puppy and someone out to destroy a man’s dream~


Second story: By starlight, a frantic dog leads Lois to a young woman lying in the snow, unconscious. She awakes, diagnosed with amnesia. Who is she?

Click here for more info. 



 

Monday, May 16, 2022

Finding Love In San Antonio Releases By Kimberly Rose Johnson

 One of the best days in the life of an author is the day their book baby is released into the world. Finding Love In San Antonio released yesterday. I'm still celebrating. 

I co-wrote this book with Miralee Ferrell. I was tasked with the job of writing Sandra's story. I wrote a novella that was woven into the larger story. It was a truly fun experience.

Here's the back cover blurb:

For TV chef Adela Romero, the lights of LA have lost their luster. The grief of her husband’s death three years ago still hangs heavy over her and her daughter, Fabi.

When Adela returns to San Antonio for a summer break with her daughter, she learns her mother-in-law's Mexican diner is struggling. Adela wants to help, but her career is tugging her in another direction.

Local food critic David Agraponte has a history with Adela. A history he’d like to rekindle. When he interviews Adela, sparks fly—both good and bad. In Adela’s struggle to put her past behind her, she’s tentative about a new relationship, but David hopes she’ll stay at Romero’s long enough to give him a chance.

Sandra always dreamed of managing Romero’s one day, but her chances of proving herself to her aunt are slim with her famous TV-chef cousin taking all the attention. Can’t her aunt see that Adela’s just passing through on her way to her next big gig? Still, as much as she resents it, Sandra may need Adela’s help if there is going to be a Romero’s left for her to manage.

When Adela gets a TV offer that’s sure to shoot her career to the stars, her choice may hold more than just her future in the balance. Can David and Adela find a way to save Romero’s and hold onto their own dreams, or will Adela’s opportunity push them apart?


Buy on Amazon 

Award winning author Kimberly Rose Johnson married her college sweetheart and recently moved to Montana after a lifetime in the Pacific Northwest. From a young child Kimberly has been an avid reader. That love of reading fostered a creative mind and led to her passion for writing. She especially loves romance and writes contemporary romance and romantic mystery and suspense with a heart.

Kimberly holds a degree in Behavioral Science from Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington, and is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers.

Subscribe to Kimberly's newsletter at https://kimberlyrjohnson.com/

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Friday, May 13, 2022

Bargain Book for You!

 

A little boy  chases a stray dog into the path of a cement truck. This heart-pounding meeting brings two wounded souls together.


Rosa Santos, a single mom, has come to the groundbreaking for her Habitat for Humanity house. When a handsome volunteer, Mark Chambers, puts himself in harms way to save her seven-year-old son, she can barely thank him, her heart in her throat.


From then on Rosa and Mark’s paths keep meeting--when they work together building her house and when he coaches her son’s Little League team. Rosa suffers from her own broken heart, but the gray smudges under Marc’s eyes tug at her sympathy. What secret pain bedevils this good, kind man?


From a USA Today Bestselling author, a heartwarming story of love, faith and God’s healing power. And the joy of furry friends! Click here for more info. '-)--Lyn





Wednesday, May 11, 2022


Did you know that today is National Limerick Day? Observed on May 12th, National Limerick Day celebrates the birthday of English artist, illustrator, author, and poet Edward Lear (May 12, 1812 – Jan. 29, 1888).  Lear is known mostly for his literary nonsense in poetry, prose, and limericks. While Lear is credited with popularizing the limerick, the poetry style existed long before the publication of his book. The limerick celebrates fun turns of phrase, rhythm, and humor in short form.

THERE WAS A YOUNG LADY
By Edward Lear

There was a Young Lady whose chin
Resembled the point of a pin;
So she had it made sharp, and purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.

Here are some more limericks for you to enjoy.

There was a young woman named Bright,
Whose speed was much faster than light.
She set out one day,
In a relative way,
And returned on the previous night.

A maiden at college, Miss Breeze,
Weighed down by B.A.s and Lit.D’s,
Collapsed from the strain,
Said her doctor, “It’s plain
You are killing yourself—by degrees!”

There was a young lady named Perkins,
Who just simply doted on gherkins.
In spite of advice,
She ate so much spice,
That she pickled her internal workins’.

And there you go. Happy limerick day

Grab a copy of my latest novella LANEY. 


LANEY
Vickie McDonough

A woman fleeing her past runs straight into her future.

Laney Dawson is desperate to leave Council Grove, KS. Her abusive father is getting out of prison soon, and she refuses to allow him to hurt her again. With few options available for a young woman, she poses as Lane, a teen boy, and hires on with a family traveling the Santa Fe Trail to New Mexico. Laney regrets lying to the kind Buckley family, especially Ethan, the oldest of the five siblings. As her feelings for Ethan grow, she knows she needs to tell him the truth, but will he leave her in the next town when he learns she's a woman?

Available on Amazon

Why are the arts important? by Josie Riviera

 This month, I'm focusing on the arts, because my newest contemporary inspirational release, A Summer To Cherish, features an artist losing his eyesight.



David Fodero is the hero of the story.  Ashley Madden is the spunky heroine who teaches art to children with disabilities.

I am a musician, a pianist, and I applaud the arts. In my research for this book, I found many similarities between art and music.

The process of producing art--playing an instrument, writing a poem (or book!), painting a picture, is good for you. For many people, the arts offer a release--a stress reducer--from everyday life. Instead of feeding on the numerous social media influences we are bombarded with,  let's create our own outgoing activities. 

The arts offer our own individual outlets, and a freedom to express ourselves.

So, I encourage you to draw, take up an instrument, or build a shed. In fact, the possibilities to express ourselves our endless. I guarantee that your well-being and contentment will improve.


New Release! Do you love inspirational contemporary romance? Small-town romance? Series books?

A Summer to Cherish is only 99¢ for a limited time! 

Faith is fragile. Faith takes time. And the best solutions are always painted with love.



Grab your copy of A Summer To Cherish today! FREE on Kindle Unlimited.

Josie Riviera is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary, historical, and inspirational romances that read like Hallmark movies. She lives in the Charlotte, NC, area with her wonderfully support husband. They share their home with an adorable shih tzu, who constantly needs grooming, and live in an old house forever needing renovation.


Sign up for her newsletter and get a FREE ebook on her website: josieriviera.com

Monday, May 9, 2022

My Un-Designer House .... by Christine Bush


I admit it. I’m a bit old.  Aside from the physical aches and pains of aging, I’m not complaining.  I’ve had a good life.  I’ve been through a lot, good and bad.

It would be nice to turn back time and be able to play tennis again. But I can’t.  Instead I hang out at the Y and do aqua aerobics. And it’s ok.  The truth is, I’m happy to have experienced all I have in this wonderful long life. I don’t want to pretend to be young.

I have lots of young people in my life. As a college professor, I get to hear the hopes and dreams and ups and downs of the younger generations. They think differently than we did. Their life is different than ours, and I accept that. I would never lecture them about their likes and dislikes, or tell them how much better it was “back in the day.” It’s just different.  I respect their right to find their way and make their choices.

But I have to laugh.  We’re constantly being bombarded by eye catching articles in magazines and on Facebook about the changes we “Oldsters” should make in order not to appear old. 

For instance, in decorating, they seem to believe that we all aspire to the styles and designs that suit them today. 

                           “Your Designer House”

“Fifteen design ideas to eliminate in your home that show your age.”

“Ten items to avoid in your house that scream “Granny’s House”

What? It’s a bad thing to look like a Granny’s House?


The lists include things like:

No floral furniture.

Get those family pictures off the wall and off the buffet. Minimalism is in.

No nick- knacks. They make clutter.

No flowered wallpaper. Neutral, neutral, neutral. Everything.

No doilies, even if created by your grandmother.

That crocheted afghan blanket on the back of the chair has to go.

That farm theme in your kitchen shouts old. Sleek is in.

Stop!

My undesigner house is a demonstration of experiences, memories and love. I like my "Granny House"!

The doily under the lamp was made by my Irish grandmother, a treasured person in my life, long gone.

The pictures celebrate the people I love, both old and young. They are symbols of family and connection.

The knickknacks are mostly souvenirs, reminders of beautiful places I’ve been.  And some are primitive art projects made by young grandkids.

My elderly aunt made the afghan. I miss her.

I love my floral couch. Curtains. Wallpaper. I guess I just like flowers.

Neutral leaves me a bit cold.

Yes, I’m older.  But my tastes haven’t changed, and I can’t really see why they should. 

So I’m going to sit in my un-designer (but comfortable) recliner and contemplate my un-designer house.

Then I might learn how to make a doily.  And keep celebrating life and its many memories.

How about your house?  I’d love to hear!

 ***********

Here’s a novella, “Meddling Mona” about a hilarious great grandmother who has decided her beloved great granddaughter should stop being a “workaholic” and find a great man. And of course, she has a great idea who that might be….  Available in print, ebook and Audible audio book! Go get it!

Meddling Mona - Kindle edition by Bush, Christine. Contemporary Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com. 


Christine Bush is a USA Today Bestselling author of romance, romantic mystery, and suspense.  She can be found living in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania with her husband and 2 lazy cats, and spending time with her 14 grandchildren.   When she’s not writing, she’s teaching Psychology at a local college, and working with clients in her private practice as a Marriage and Family Therapist. She loves to hear from readers and writers!

www.ChristineBush.com

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christine-Bush-Author/213919128638762
http://www.amazon.com/Christine-Bush/e/B001KHSLRG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1392688497&sr=1-2-ent

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday, May 7, 2022

Sneak Peek from Falling for the Scotsman ~ Jean C. Gordon

This weekend we're on our way to a surprise birthday party for my husband's sister on the other side of the state, so I'm taking an easy out for my May blog and treating you to an excerpt from my latest release.

Falling for the Scotsman

Hopeless Romantics of Willow Ridge, Book 8

Can their book boyfriends lead a book club of hopeless romantics 
to a real happily ever after?

Available in eBook and Paperback

Chapter One

It was sad. Sorcha Laurent looked at the tray of upside-down shot glasses she’d put on the oak bar for today’s tour tastings. No change that. It was pitiful. Euan’s Choice Distillery, the family business, had become her whole life. She could count the number of dates she’d had in the last three months on one hand. Her only saving grace on the social front was the Hopeless Romantics Book Club at Edie Rogers’ Once Upon a Book Store and her book boyfriends.

Sorcha snorted as she finished readying the tasting room for the day. Where she was now was a far cry from where she’d expected to be when she’d left Emory University with her newly minted MS in Chemistry to supplement her undergraduate degree in in pre-med and a sparkling new engagement ring on her finger.

Then Grandpa had died and her mother needed her help with the distillery—for a “short while” until Grandma was back to herself—and Sorcha’s plans all unraveled. She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. Her research job in Chicago, where her ex-fiance was attending medical school, was gone in three months. They could only hold it so long. At six months a one-hundred-year flood damaged part of the distillery, and the business took a hard financial hit. Employees had to be let go. Just temporarily, Mom and Gram had said when they’d asked her to stay a bit longer. Sorcha, again, cancelled her plans to join her fiancée. At nine months, he broke the engagement, saying he couldn’t handle med school and a long-distance relationship.

Sadly, by that time, she hadn’t even felt any great loss, and the experience had helped her define real love. She didn’t mind managing the distillery while she figured out what she wanted to do. But she had wanted a definite out date. So Sorcha had signed a five-year employment agreement. An agreement that was up this year. Emptiness hollowed her gut. Mom and Gram were pressing her for her plans. She still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do—what new dream might replace the old.

She huffed and angrily shoved back her hair. If she were being honest with herself, not having new dreams or even a new plan after five years looked a lot like fear. She was simply too afraid to make any work decision or any personal plans. And until she could figure her way past this, she was stuck in time, stuck in Willow Ridge, and stuck with her book boyfriends. Stuck with what seemed like no way out.

Sorcha checked the clock. Seven-forty-five. Early to be done setting up, but she wanted to make it as easy as possible for her mother and Gram, who’d be handling the usually heavier Saturday crowd by herself today.

A knock on the front glass door startled her. Couldn’t people read? The package store didn’t open until nine and tasting room and tours ten, as the sign on the door said in big black letters. Sorcha looked up, saw her friend Abby Cameron Howard, and smiled.

She hurried across the room and unlocked the door. “Hey. You’re early.” Abby was never early.

“How could I not be?” Abby asked. “Food. Drink. And men in kilts competing in manly physical challenges. I may not be into all things Scottish like you are, but I can’t believe I’ve lived in Willow Ridge my whole life and never heard about the Scottish Games in Savanah before Edie mentioned them at our last book club meeting.”

Sorcha laughed at Abby’s enthusiasm. “And here you are, a newlywed, I thought I’d have trouble tearing you away for an entire day, it being the weekend and all.”

“Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I don’t want to expand my experiences in other ways, too.” Abby grinned. “Besides, it gives Matthew some new-dad time with my kids.”

“Yep.” Sorcha ignored the pang that hit her more often now that all of the other members of the book club were in romantic relationships. She walked back, grabbed her leather satchel from behind the counter, and pulled out her keys to lock back up on their way out. At the door, she stopped to text Mom that she was leaving.

Abby grabbed the phone, erased the any-problem-call-me part of the text, and sent it.”

“Hey.” Sorcha glared at her and took the phone back. “What was that?”

“Your mother and grandmother can handle anything that comes up. It’ll give them practice for your great break when your contract is up.”

Sorcha slid into the passenger seat of Abby’s car. “Right.” She put Mom and Gram and the distillery and her future out of her mind until the boys’ academy where the games were held came into view. A smile spread across her face.

“What are you grinning about? We can’t even see any hunky Scotsmen yet.”

Sorcha gave her friend a playful shoulder shove.

“Watch it. I’m driving. I wouldn’t want to hit any prime specimen that might be jogging the road. You want as big a playing field as possible.”

“Newlyweds,” Sorcha said in fake disgust. “Always trying to fix people up. She touched the Celtic design necklace her grandfather had given her as a child. Her great-grandmother’s necklace. “I was thinking about all the times Gram and Grandpa brought me to the games. I had my own Cawdor tartan kilts and competed in the Scottish dance competitions.”

“Oh, you should have worn one.”

Sorcha grinned. “And be arrested for indecent exposure? I was about eleven or twelve when I stopped competing and didn’t get my growth spurt until I was a high school freshman.”

Abby laughed and pulled up to the parking lot admission booth.

“I’ve got this,” Sorcha said, and handed Abby the parking fee and their admission tickets. Nostalgia filled her again as she and Abby walked onto the grounds of the academy where the games were held.

“OMG! It’s him.” She clamped one hand over her mouth and pointed with the other, while her heart pounded.

“Him who?” Confusion clouded Abby’s face as she looked in the direction Sorcha pointed.

“The tall auburn-haired guy in the Campbell kilt and tank top. Laird of the Isles. Lachlan. The book I’ve been reading since I finished this month’s book club book early.

Abby continued to look puzzled.

Sorcha pulled a paperback out of her bag. “I hinted to Edie to make it the November club read.”

Abby looked at the book cover and sucked in a breath. “He could be the cover model. I’ve never met a cover model.

Sorcha shielded her eyes from sun. “He’s gone now.” There was no reason for the pang her words caused her. Maybe Mom was right. That she got so wrapped up in her romance books that she didn’t leave any room for real relationships. She had started reading them right after her broken engagement.

“Maybe, we’ll spot him again later.” Abby waved her program. “The border collie herding is starting. I’d like to see that.”

“Sure.” Sorcha slapped her program against her and increased her pace, as if she could outwalk the emptiness. “I like dogs.”

“I know what I want for my birthday,” Abby said as they left the sidelines of the field where the herding exhibition had been. “The kids would love a dog.”

“They are cute, and smart,” Sorcha said. “Made me want one, too.”

“Why not get one. You’re on the edge of town, could fence in a nice run for a dog.”

“Um. Hmm.” Except she might not be staying in Willow Ridge. But she wasn’t ready to share that out loud with anyone, not even a close friend like Abby. All the book club knew was that she was considering other work options.

“I know that look,” Abby said. “Your mind is back on that hunky Scottish clansman you saw.”

Sorcha kicked a stone from her path. “Actually, no.”

“Sorcha, Abby!” Edie’s voice calling from behind them saved Sorcha from spilling any more. She and Abby stopped and waited for the older woman to catch up with them.

“I’m glad you took my advice and came,” Edie said. “But I wish you’d let me know. We could have come together.”

Abby caught Sorcha’s gaze and they both pasted smiles on their faces. Edie was a darling, and they loved her bookstore. But she was also the second biggest busybody in Willow Ridge, after Edie’s best friend Millie who owned the Latte Da coffee shop.

“I expect you’re also headed for the athletic competition,” Edie said.

“We are now,” Sorcha agreed.

“Did you catch the preliminaries before the herding?”

“No,” Abby said. “We got here just in time for the border collies. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who breeds them?”

“I do. We can track her down after this next round of athletics. There are some fine, fine lads competing this year. Some young and a few a bit older.” Edie’s eyes twinkled.

The trio was lucky enough to get a spot in the front row of the roped off competition area. Sorcha scanned the field—both area-wise and competitor-wise. “So you have a couple of favorites, Edie?”

“Yep, one for you and one for me. The silver-haired one with the neatly trimmed beard in the Gordon tartan is mine. I bet he’s not a day under sixty, and he breezed through the preliminaries with the guys half his age.”

Sorcha and Abby laughed.

“And here comes yours.” Edie pointed at the guy Sorcha had spotted earlier, and Sorcha fanned herself with her program.

“Right. I know,” Edie said. “He looks exactly like the warrior on the cover of the book you dropped not-so-subtle hints about as a club read.”

“What are they doing?” Abby asked.

“Tossing the caber,” Sorcha answered.

“Throwing those trees?” Abby’s eyes widened.

“Yep.” Sorcha and Edie said in unison. “The goal is to see who can get the caber to go farthest end over end,” Sorcha finishes.

As the other competitors took the field, she couldn’t help comparing them to her “Lachlan.” Most were burlier, some with a bit of paunch. What looked like a muscled paunch, but one none-the-less. Lachlan was as well muscled with no paunch. She checked out his arms and thighs. More than as well muscled as some, but leaner, taller looking. Was that a plus or a minus? Gram would know. Edie would, too, but she didn’t want to go there with Edie.

A couple other men were up before Edie’s pick and the Lachlan lookalike.

“Watch their kilts,” Edie said.

Abby turned to Sorcha. “I thought we were watching the trees.”

“Drat,” Edie said. “They’re all wearing spandex cycling shorts. Except Marcus.”

“Marcus?” Sorcha mouthed to Abby.

The older man stepped up for his throw.

“He’s got on Gordon tartan boxers.”

Sorcha choked and kept her gaze glued to the caber while the man threw. Not bad. Marcus was in the lead. The Lachlan lookalike was next.

He stretched, biceps bulging in a nice way as he lifted his caber, his muscles tensing from his face to his calves. One, two, three. Sorcha held her breath. Eyes on the caber, she admonished herself. Almost successfully. She glanced down just as he tossed the caber, and a flip of his kilt revealed a strip of navy-blue spandex. Her cheeks heated at she redirected her gaze and watched the caber tumble a couple of times before landing about the same distance as Marcus’s throw.

A group of teenage boys not far from Sorcha uh-ed in disappointment, as two men with a measuring line ran out. The men measured and nodded at “Lachlan.” He raised his fist toward the boys in a winning motion, and the boys changed their disappointment to a cheer: “Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell.”

“Wonder what that’s about,” Abby said.

“Got me,” Sorcha answered. She watched Lachlan stride toward her, kilt swaying. That wasn’t the only thing that had her. She smiled, ready to congratulate him when he turned slightly and walked to the boys. What was with her. He hadn’t been headed to her. He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him, except as a book boyfriend. And she’d thought she was pitiful earlier.

The competition continued with one of the burlier guys taking first, followed by “Lachlan” and Marcus.

Edie grabbed Sorcha’s arm. “Let’s go congratulate our guys before they leave the field.”

Our guys? She stumbled after Edie toward the group of teens. Who knew the woman had such strength? Edie pushed through the boys waving and calling Marcus.

“My Lady.” Marcus bowed when they reached the fence, and Edie curtsied.

Abby snorted.

“Nice showing.” Edie nodded to Marcus and his younger competitor before returning her attention to Marcus. “These are my friends Abby and Sorcha. They wanted to meet you both.” Edie’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Sorcha especially wanted to meet Mr. Campbell.”

I did not. Well, maybe a little for curiosity’s sake.

The teens snickered. Had she said that out loud. Her stomach tightened, then relaxed when she noticed the teens were focused on Mr. Campbell. She half waited for them to chant “Mr. Campbell has a girlfriend.” Sheer determination drove out the sing-song chant starting in her head. If he had a girlfriend, it wasn’t her. She attempted to give him a once over without being obvious. It was unlikely he didn’t have a woman, or several women, in his life. Her breath caught. How could he not, looking like that?

“Certainly.” Marcus’s voice brought her back from her mind drift. “This is …”

Mr. Campbell’s gaze pinned hers. She drank in the deep blue of his eyes, his chiseled cheekbones, the way the breeze blew an auburn curl across his forehead. “Lachlan Campbell in the flesh,” Sorcha blurted.

Available in eBook and Paperback

The Hopeless Romantics of Willow Ridge series are sweet, small-town contemporary romances. Each book is a standalone and can be read individually or as part of the series.

Hopeless Romantics of Willow Ridge series
Book 1: Falling for the Boss
Book 2: Falling for the Fireman
Book 3: Falling for the Doctor
Book 4: Falling for the Deputy
Book 5: Falling for the Hockey Player
Book 6: Falling for the Single Dad
Book 7: Falling for the Farmer
Book 8: Falling for the Scotsman



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