Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you to everyone who leaves comments, and visits every week.

Today I am sharing more from of my Valentine Story about the brother, Henri, of the hero, Liam, in my current novella, From Now Until Forever, published by Astraea Press.

“I have not been unaware of the burden you have carried since my heart attack a year ago. Combining your own commitments with those you took over while I recuperated would have felled a lesser man.”

Feeling the heat burn his cheeks, Henri shifted in his chair.

The past twelve months had been tough, and for the last six, his advisors almost competed with each other in counselling him to slow down unless he wanted to occupy his father’s hospital bed.

“I am also aware you have ignored their advice to cut back. So I am decreeing that of this moment you are on indeterminate leave of absence.”

You'll find plenty more great offerings at Six Sentence Sunday

Elaine Cantrell introduces us to Marley's New Guy

Marley’s New Guy

Welcome back to the blog! I’m romance writer Elaine Cantrell, and Sherry was kind enough to invite me to her blog. If you’re curious about me and my writing, check out my website at http://www.elainecantrell.com. You might also like my blog which is found at http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com

Yesterday I promised I’d tell you what my heroine in A Table in the Window did when her fiancé jilted her. Uh, I mean what happened after she cried a river and went shopping to make herself feel better.


In this excerpt, Marley is Christmas shopping and stops to eat at the restaurant where her fiancé jilted her.

Excerpt:

Barton’s hostess picked up a menu. “Table for one?”
“Yes.” Marley’s eyes prickled, but she swallowed hard and followed the hostess to a small table near the kitchen. Guess they saved the nice window tables for hunks like Michael.
She sat her purse and packages in the empty chair beside her and tried not to stare at the table where it had all occurred. Her heart burned. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here after all.
“Hi, may I take your drink order?”
Marley looked up and saw Robert, the waiter who’d served her and Michael on that awful day when Michael broke up with her. She blushed and hoped he didn’t know why. “Maybe some hot tea,” she decided, “and I know what I want to order. I’d like a chicken salad plate.”
He smiled at her. “Coming right up.”
As he vanished into the kitchen, Marley heard someone yell, “Hey, Rob, what are you doing here? Your shift’s over.”
So Robert’s friends called him Rob. Marley liked that name better. Robert sounded like someone her father’s age, but Rob sounded young and upbeat. Wonder why he wanted to hang around Barton’s after his shift ended? Didn’t he have some place he needed to be at Christmastime?
He returned to her table and set her tea in front of her. “Have you ever tried tea the way the English drink it?” he asked. “I brought you some cream in case you’d like to try it.”
“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” Marley answered. “Maybe I will try it.”
She thought he’d go away, but he remained standing beside the table. “Uh, is there anything else?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “My shift’s over. If I’m not bothering you, I wondered if you’d like some company for lunch.” His eyes twinkled. “In case you’d like to know, you’re the first customer I’ve made that offer to.”
How strange. She’d seen this guy in Barton’s for over a year now, yet she couldn’t have described him to save her life. She paused for a quick inspection. He wore black trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt with a red and black striped tie. A green bib apron covered his shirt and tied around his neck and waist. He’d spiked his short, blonde hair ever so slightly in front. He had blue eyes and a square jaw and definitely wasn’t as buff as Michael who spent a lot of time in a gym. Michael was taller too.
The sparkle in his blue eyes decided her. “Sure. Have a seat.” She swept her packages and purse into the floor, and he sat down beside her.

Oh, she’s done it now! Can Rob be the one to mend her broken heart, or will she find that rebound relationships never work?

If you like the sound of A Table in the Window, please check it out at http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=1651593&mode=product&product=7885677 or at Amazon. By the time you read this it has released. Find it at: http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=662245&mode=product&product=7885677

Marley works at a bakery in New York City. I nagged her until she agreed to share her recipe for chocolate cake. If you have a better recipe, let me know. This is one of the best I’ve ever tasted. In fact, if you post a recipe for us I’ll throw your name in a hat for a book giveaway.

Marley’s Chocolate Cak
2 cups flour
4 TBSP cocoa
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 stick butter
1 tsp soda
½ cup cooking oil
2 eggs
1 cup water
1 tsp vanilla

Sift flour and sugar together in a large mixing bowl. Place butter, oil, water, and cocoa into a saucepan and bring to a rapid boil. When mixture boils, remove from heat and pour over sugar and flour mixture. Mix well with spoon and add buttermilk, soda, eggs and vanilla. Beat lightly and pour into greased and floured 13 X 9 X 1 ½ inch pan. Bake at 325 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes.

Wet Chocolate Frosting
1 stick butter
4TBSP cocoa
6 TBSP evaporated milk
1 box powdered sugar

Place butter, cocoa, and milk in saucepan. When mixture comes to a boil remove from heat and add 1 box powdered sugar and 1 tsp vanilla. Pour over cake while hot.

Amber Lea Easton tells us why she writes

Please welcome Amber Lea Easton today, when she tells us 'why she writes'.

 Why I write romance

I’m a firm believer in romance and love. Call me naive if you’d like or a Pollyanna if you choose, but there’s something about a happy ending that really lights up my world.

Let me tell you about my own love story. When I was twenty-seven, I met a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed mountain boy named Sean. He swept me away from our first meeting and proposed to me only three weeks later after filling his apartment with wild flowers he’d picked along side the road. I said yes without hesitation.

My “yes” sent my friends into intervention mode. I was never the relationship type...and my friends knew this. I couldn’t care less about having a boyfriend, let alone getting married. Oh, I loved men, that’s true. Back in my twenty-something days, I had more guy pals than girlfriends. I was okay with being single. But Sean...wow...the man sent my nervous system into electrical overload.

Long story short--we married six months later and ended up having two gorgeous kids. Happily ever after, you ask? No. He died six years ago, leaving me a widow with two kids to raise solo.

I still love him.

So, you see, I write romance because I believe in true love, soulmates and passion. I know love exists. I also believe that, if you’re not in love with something whether it be your hobby, your life, your pets, yourself...if you’re not passionate about something...then what’s the point? Yes, I’m a widow who’s flying solo at the moment, but I love my writing, my kids, my pets, the view outside my window, my ability to laugh at myself...I love.

To me, love is all that matters at the dimming of the day...and that’s why I write romance novels.

Please come back tomorrow when Amber interviews Grace and Jonathon. 

Blurb:
Neck-deep in a set-up that could have him in jail or dead by Monday, Jonathan Alexander trusts no one in his inner circle. It’s Saturday. His only hope is Grace Dupont, the best forensic accountant in Miami. But there’s a glitch with that idea. She's also his ex-girlfriend who would rather watch him drown than throw him a life vest. Going to her feels desperate...because he is.

Grace enjoys seeing Jonathan squirm. On your knees boy, she thinks as he pitches for her help. Always a sucker for the dark-haired-blue-eyed boys, she risks her precariously balanced life of secrets to help him. Helping him slaps a target on her back--she's the key to proving his innocence and that's a bad, bad thing.

Trapped in whirlwind of conspiracy, murder, million dollar money trails and diamond smuggling, Jonathan and Grace flee to the sea to stall for time to prove his innocence. Romance sizzles beneath Florida Keys’ sunshine. Both scoff at happy endings. Both doubt justice. Both know each kiss could be their last.

Amber Lea Easton, author of Kiss Me Slowly available on
www.amazon.com and
http://www.bookstrand.com/kiss-me-slowly.
Follow Amber Lea on
Twitter as MtnMoxieGirl,
Facebook or her website at http://www.amberleaeaston.com

Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wI89yCQHrHg

Six Sentence Sunday 9th Oct

As always, my thanks to everyone who stops by. I appreciate your company and your comments.

This week I am again posting six sentences from my current WIP.  Today's offering carries on from last week.

“I have come to look through your accounts before I speak with Brandon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are a woman.”   Worth paused for the effect of his words to sink in.
“I am aware of that!  And,” she huffed out a breath, her intention to maintain her temper abandoned, “if you are implying that as a woman I am incapable of running my late husband’s estates... estates, moreover, that Harold left in my sole charge, I suggest you acquit yourself of that misconception.”


To enjoy more SSS offerings  Click HERE

Sweet Saturday Samples

Thank you to everyone who visits every week and to those joining us all this week. Click here-> Sweet Saturday Samples to enjoy many other fabulous excerpts.

This week I'm sharing a last snippet of my short paranormal story, Riddick.


My niggling suspicions ballooned, explaining the unease I’d experienced earlier. “No!”

“Yes!” The adamant contradiction slapped at my beliefs, sweeping them away, like ice in a heat-wave, and settled somewhere deep in my heart. “When you arrived, we watched and waited. We had to make sure, you see.”

I looked beyond the tow-haired, emerald-eyed god standing in my palm. “No I don’t see anything at all.” I apologised. “Who are you?” Apparently, he had the advantage. He knew me, but I knew nothing of him or his identity.

“I am Riddick. King of the Faeries.”

http://www.sherrygloag.com/

Sweet Saturday Samples

Thank you to everyone who visits me every week and to those joining us all this week. Click here-> Sweet Saturday Samples to enjoy many other fabulous excerpts.

This week I'm taking a break for The Brat and sharing more of a short paranormal story that so far has failed to find a home.

A moth, a light beige moth, with fuzzy hairs on its head, ignored the solar lamps and settled on the cushion beside me. I smiled. Moths, butterflies and other insects fed and bred off the plants and flowers, birds nested in the boxes I set up, and used the shrubbery as secret pathways to their destinations when they didn’t want to fly. But faeries?

“Nah!” Even I had trouble with that idea. The moth launched into the dark, hovered, then settled on my knee. Its beady eyes staring straight into mine. If a moth could exhibit disgust, then I was witnessing the event.

“The trouble with humans,” an indignant voice huffed, “is that they can’t see beyond the end of their noses.”

Sweet Saturday Samples

Thank you to everyone who visits me every week and to those joining us all this week. Click here-> Sweet Saturday Samples to enjoy many other fabulous excerpts.
This week I'm taking a break for The Brat and sharing more of a short paranormal story that so far has failed to find a home.

A cool breeze replaced the relentless heat of the day and I imagined the garden sighing with relief. I sipped my dry white wine and let the taste linger on my tongue before enjoying its slide down my throat. Only the solar garden lamps lit the deck-area. I’d left the indoor lights off, allowing the breeze to filter through the house before going indoors and locking up for the night.

This was the time I usually ‘talked’ through the events of my day with Gerald.

“That is just so weird.” Rachel exclaimed when she turned up unexpectedly, one evening. “He’s been gone for nearly two years now and you ‘talk’ to him every night!” She’d shifted to the other end of the rocker. “I suppose you’re going to tell me he ‘talks’ right back at you!” She didn’t quite snort with derision, but it was close!

“Sort of.” I admitted cautiously. After all how did you explain the ‘sort of knowing’ that settled after you vocally aired your thoughts and problems aloud to an empty garden?

“Like I say,” she’d moved back and given me a hug to take the sting from her words. “You’re seriously weird.” She paused for effect, “but I still love you.”

Six Sentence Sunday

Thanks again, to everyone who came by last Sunday. I appreciate your comments and company :-)  Today's snippet carries on from last week.

The storm.
Their flight from the house.
The river.
And when they‟d been pulled from the raging torrents, she‟d adamantly refused to let the medics take her to hospital. The images he'd rather forget flashed through his mind. The comfort they sought in each other's arms and the realization life might have ceased for both of them that night.

Duty Calls is available ~ HERE & HERE

Please visit my website to learn more, and read the reviews.

You will find other participants of Six Sunday Sentence HERE

Six Sentence Sunday

 Thank you to everyone who visited last week. I appreciate your company and comments.
This week's 'six' follows on from last week's.

The memory of her straggly, dirty, shoulder length hair, wide frightened eyes and hands that sought refuge in the skimpy black cotton skirt hanging limply against her bare legs, still haunted his dreams. And turned them into nightmares.

Rafe swallowed. No way could he kid himself. The memories of the night would haunt him for the rest of his life. He‟d treated her like a side of beef hanging in a butcher's shop in an effort to maintain a cover already blown.


Duty Calls is available ~ HERE HERE & HERE

Please visit my website to learn more, and read the reviews.

You will find other participants of Six Sunday Sentence HERE