Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Welcome, Nancy Fraser!

How Inspired Must You Be to Write Steamy Sex Scenes?

 When Jennifer asked for a short post about what inspired my newest release, Teach Me (Lusty Liaisons #3), I had a moment...a laugh if you will.


What inspires any author to write a really hot love scene, much less 15K words worth? Sometimes it’s just what the market is looking for at the time. Sometimes it’s to live vicariously through our characters. Or, for me, it’s a way to blow of some steam and not have to worry about too many actual plot details. The plot is the mind-blowing sex, and what the morning-after repercussions bring to each characters’ development.


My specific inspiration for this story came from some long-ago personal experience. While there was no ultra-exclusive dating service like Lusty Liaisons in my college years, there was an older-than-me professor. So, this wasn’t as much living vicariously as it was reviving old memories. And enjoying every minute of it.



Author Bio:


NANCY FRASERJumping Across Romance Genres with Gleeful Abandon—is an Amazon Top 100 and Award-Winning author who can’t seem to decide which romance genre suits her best. So, she writes them all.


Like most authors, Nancy began writing at an early age, usually on the walls and with crayons or, heaven forbid, permanent markers. Her love of writing often made her the English teacher’s pet which, of course, resulted in a whole lot of teasing. Still, it was worth it.


Nancy has published over thirty-five books in full-length, novella, and short format. When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five wonderful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.




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Med student Jayne Willis is devastated when she's stood up for a date arranged by hookup service Lusty Liaisons. Really, who stands up someone willing to have sex?

Widowed professor Noah Gallagher's chance encounter at a hotel bar with an alluring young woman is unexpected but might be just what he needs. He's on the last leg of a cross-country trip prior to returning to the university, ready to start a new chapter in his life.

One lonely widower looking to reconnect plus one beautiful, albeit inexperienced, young woman equals one hot night. Will she get an A in lovemaking, and will he get a hall pass back to life?





As cliché as it sounded, it truly was a dark and stormy night. Not nearly as dark as Noah

Gallagher’s mood or as stormy as his thoughts, but still not the optimal weather for driving.


The outskirts of Chicago were minutes away. Two exits off the highway at most. With little hope of the storm letting up, pulling over for the night made the most sense. Noah shook his head in self-admonishment. When, if ever, had he been guided by common sense? Certainly not for the past eighteen months. Certainly not since…Ellen.


The familiar stab of heartbreak shot through him at the speed of light, lessened somewhat by time but still there whenever he needed a jolt of reality. This ill-advised cross-country trip was just the latest in his flights of fancy, his vain attempt to put some excitement back in his otherwise nondescript life. To forget.


The fall semester was less than three weeks away. He had until then to get this feeling of

wanderlust out of his system. It wouldn’t do for a tenured Ivy League professor of English Lit to be seen as a flighty mess of self-pity and abject anger.


Which meant, for all intents and purposes, he needed to get his head on straight and his shit sorted out as quick as humanly possible. Beginning with his pent-up energy, his need to get back in the saddle, so to speak. What he needed was a night of hot sex. No commitment, no morning-after regret. Just sex.


He took the first exit toward Inverness, one of Chicago’s upscale suburbs. Within minutes, he pulled into the parking lot of one of the chain hotels and took a spot directly opposite the entrance.


Grabbing his overnight bag from the backseat of the truck, he ran to the carport. Shaking off the worst of the downpour, Noah stepped through the sliding glass doors and stopped to survey the standard-issue hotel lobby. The welcoming sight of the bar beckoned him. Checking in was his first priority, followed by dry clothes, and afterward a drink and some greasy bar food.


What would Ellen think? His conscious prodded him, reminding him of his late wife’s

penchant for healthy eating.


Shed think Id fallen down the rabbit hole without her to pull me out.


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Monday, March 29, 2021

Cake For Breakfast

 My girls were always picky eaters—still are, to some extent, although they’ve gotten better. I’ve never been a big breakfast person. Breakfast buffets are wasted on me, growing up, I preferred tuna salad or an Eggo waffle (not together), and now I like a half of a muffin or bagel.

So Passover is a challenge, especially when the girls were little. They always liked specific food, and while I could experiment with something new once in a while, experimenting during Passover wasn’t ideal, since the fallback couldn’t be pizza. Lunches were met with groans, and they ended up eating a lot of peanut butter on matzah and complaining all day how hungry they were.


Therefore, I tried to make breakfast fun.


“How about cake for breakfast?”


The first time I asked them that, their eyes grew huge, probably picturing birthday cakes and frosting, all while wondering who the person was who was impersonating their mom, and how could they keep her?


There aren’t a lot of options for Passover breakfasts that don’t taste gross. Actually, I’m of the opinion that most prepared Passover food in general tastes gross, but that’s beside the point. If you shop early enough for Passover food, you can snag boxes of Passover “cake mix.” The earlier you go, the more varieties they have—vanilla, chocolate, marble, coffee. 


Here’s a secret, they all pretty much taste the same. And they certainly don’t taste like the kind of cake my kids were picturing. However, for breakfast? Knowing that it’s “cake” adds a level of forbidden fruit to the idea, and even though I draw the line at frosting, all my kids’ complaints about Passover food disappeared once I made them cake and gave it to them first thing in the morning.


It soon became a tradition—for them, it gave them food to look forward to, since the rest of the year certainly did not allow for cake for breakfast. And for me, it was easy and staved off the complaints until later in the day.


I have another reason to have cake for breakfast today. Not only is it Passover, but my latest book is out today! A Reckless Heart is the first in my steamy contemporary Scarred Hearts Series. Reviews are coming in and they are making my heart happy. I’d love for you to consider adding a new book of mine to your e-reader or bookshelf!


Blurb: Meg Thurgood, former society girl, took the blame for her friend and paid a steep price. Now all she wants is solitude and a chance to rebuild her life. She thinks she's found that in an isolated house she rents from a mysterious stranger.

Simon McAlter has hidden in his house on the coast of Maine since a fire left him scarred. A successful landscape architect who conducts his business and teaches his classes remotely, he's lost his inspiration and is trying to pretend he's not lonely. 

Simon's new neighbor is more than he bargained for. When he learns Meg's secret, will he retreat into the shadows or will he learn to see past the surface and trust in Meg's love? 


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Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Welcome, Pamela Thibodeaux

 The Inspiration for Tempered Truth can best be summed up in the letter to my readers I put at the end of every book….

It was never my intention for the question of whether Craig Harris and Scott Hensley were blood brothers to be a main thread linking the lives of the characters throughout the four previous Tempered books. After all, Proverbs 18:24 tells us that a true friend sticks closer than a brother and they had been true friends their entire lives.

Although I addressed that question in Tempered Joy, the answer left me wondering… How? Why? Who? What really happened?

Many of you have asked the same questions….


Tagline: Will the truth set them free or will it destroy a lifelong friendship?


Blurb: Fate declared them neighbors. Scandal insisted they were brothers. The fact that they looked enoughalike to be twins only added fuel to the rumors flying about their parentage. 

For fifty-plus years Craig Harris and Scott Hensley have enjoyed a bond nothing can sever. 

Not the insinuations that they share the same father. 

Not the years of strife and grief and heartache.

Not even death.

Will the truth set them free or will it destroy the friendship that has lasted a lifetime?


Scott wiped the tears from his cheeks. He was right, had been right all along, in thinking he would not be the same after reading what was inside that envelope. And he wasn’t. He was better, richer, wiser. He possessed a deeper understanding of who he was, why he was here, and what love—true, sacrificial love, was all about.

As usual, his mind turned to Craig Harris, his friend of a lifetime. He remembered how difficult Craig’s childhood had been, how strong he’d become, how close they were, and how blessed he was to have him in his life. Through the love and wisdom God had given his parents, he’d had it all… a best friend and a brother, and his life was far richer than it would have been had they not been obedient to Him.

Author bio: Award-winning author, Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.” Sign up to receive Pam’s newsletter and get a FREE short story!



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Monday, March 15, 2021

It's Been A Year

I’m late to the “one year of lockdown” game. Game. Ha! Nightmare, more likely. But our lockdown started a few days later than everyone else’s. We were still hoping to go to Australia to visit the Princess, who was studying there. Her program hadn’t yet been cancelled, and she hadn’t yet been sent home. Banana Girl was still at school, and campus hadn’t been shut down. We were in denial. So our official lockdown anniversary is March 17.

It’s been a year—and I mean that with every inflection you can make. A year of lessons and losses and losing time. Because really, when every day is the same, it’s hard to keep track. What day is it? What’s the difference between seasons, days of the week, weekdays and weekends? But I tried to keep track, and although I didn’t keep a journal or blog regularly about the pandemic—who wants to read about how every day is the same?—I will never forget this year and what I learned.


I’ve learned that living through history isn’t as glamorous as the movies and history books and literature make it sound. I should have probably realized this much earlier in life, but it took a goddamn pandemic to drive that point home. I remember as a child, hearing whispered explanations about relatives who behaved certain ways because of the Depression or the War. I wonder what habits I’ll keep and what people will say about me?


I’ve learned that when the world stops, and silence reigns, there are still beautiful things to be seen—flowers, birds, dogs (lots and lots of pandemic puppies), smiling eyes behind masks, and even the occasional bear. I’ve had to search harder for the beauty and the joy, but it’s there. The wildlife took over when the humans retreated. People smile more with their eyes now so their greetings can be seen while masked. It’s effort, but it’s worth it.


I’ve learned that fear not only stops the world from turning, but doesn’t do anything to get it back on its axis. Hope, however, does. And despite a rotten year (or several) of unimaginable horror, my hope never died. It dimmed, it hid, but it’s still there. It reminds me to feel, to cry, and to laugh. 


I’ve learned a full-blown panic attack in the grocery store is not as weird as I might have once thought. In fact, there’s an element of camaraderie that develops between those of us who have them, and pride for each other as we learned to conquer them.


I've learned 20-second songs to wash my hands, with a continuous loop playing in my head. Thanks, Anxiety! I can rattle off my favorite scents of hand soaps, and have revamped my basement storage to accommodate truckloads of sanitizers, wipes, sprays, gloves, masks, and lotions. If you're planning to rob my house, please take the TV, but don't touch my cleaning supplies.

I’ve learned resilience is a THING. And while everything else may have disappeared this year, resilience thrived. If I can get through this pandemic, I can conquer anything—um, God, that’s not a challenge, so feel free not to test me. I’ve been tested enough. You win.


I’ve learned that my mother wasn’t nearly as insane about cleaning as I thought she was, and that I may have surpassed her when it comes to that insanity—it is, after all, hereditary. And, my habit of keeping hand sanitizer in my car that started when my oldest entered kindergarten was really, really smart.


I’ve learned that there are a lot of stupid people in the world and that Darwin works really slowly. But there are also a lot of kind people and funny people, and they are the ones who kept me going. Being able to help me find the humor in a situation has never been more appreciated than during this year.


Speaking of kind, I’ve learned that kindness is really all we have, and the myriad ways that kindness has been expressed is awe-inspiring. Messages of hope have sprung up in the most unlikely places, carried on like a game of telephone—from painted rocks to driveway chalk messages to hearts and bears in windows.


I’ve learned I’m exceedingly lucky that no one in my family got sick or died from Covid (and that’s despite some really questionable judgment at times, by all of us). I’ve also learned it’s really, really hard keeping those same people alive, no matter how careful they might want to be.


I’ve learned that the world has failed this group project and probably won’t learn from its mistakes. 


I’ve learned that as much as I used to love being alone I need people. Even though I like my personal space, I miss hugs (occasional ones from specific people, so don’t get any funny ideas). And while I love my house, I will love it even more when I get to leave it.

I've learned my husband and I can spend almost every waking moment together and still love and tolerate each other--despite my propensity to talk to myself, his really loud voice during work hours, and our significant differences in body temperature.


I’ve learned it’s lonely and scary to be the one always trying to do the right thing, but it’s necessary. And the people who do it with me are lifesavers. They’re my bubble, my trusted friends and family, and the ones who convince me I’m maybe not quite as crazy as I think I am. And that my inconsistency and irrationality during a pandemic is okay (even when it’s not).


I’ve learned who my true friends are, those who make the effort to reach out and find ways to connect. I’ve had fun finding new ways of socializing. I’ve seen more nostrils on Zoom than I ever want to see again, but I’ve cherished being able to see people I probably wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise. I hope we continue to bridge the distance when we no longer have to keep our distance.


I’ve learned that silly things keep me sane, like wearing real clothes and creating a routine—yes, I change out my jewelry on Saturday. It’s weird, I know. But it reminds me what day it is, it lets me see and wear pretty things, and boy, don’t you feel normal right now? 


I’ve learned to stop wondering if I can handle something and just do it. Because what other choice do I have? 

I’ve accepted that creativity has flown out the door, and my writing has suffered, but in its place is forgiveness. I’m easier on myself when I have a bad day, when I don’t do what I thought I should. There’s peace between the panic, and I just have to look for it.


And I hope, I hope, that as the pandemic eases and life returns to a new normal, I don’t forget these lessons—well, some of them, anyway. Because forgetting will not offer justice or peace or honor to those who have suffered, including ourselves. The only way we can heal is by remembering. And by remembering to cherish hope.

Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Welcome Back, Sadira Stone!

Sadira's latest book, Opposites Ignite, releases March 15!

Back Cover Blurb:

A mismatch sparks the hottest flames.


Blue-haired, buxom, and bodacious, server Rosie needs her job at Bangers Tavern, where her work family adores her weirdness and supports her hunt for a tattoo apprenticeship. When too much New Year’s bubbly tumbles her into a sweet, shy coworker’s bed, she craves more. But guys like Eddie never stick with girls like her. 


Strait-laced, soft-spoken, and skinny, barback Eddie has a huge crush on his curvy, tattooed coworker. Their New Year’s surprise is a dream come true—until grandma walks in on them.  Eddie begs Rosie to fake-date him to appease his old-fashioned family. He’s already keeping secrets, so what’s the harm in one more? But the longer he pretends with Rosie, the deeper he falls.


Their boss lays down the law: No relationship drama at work, or you’re fired. Rosie’s everything Eddie ever wanted—but to keep her, he’ll have to drop a terrifying truth bomb on his loving but stifling family. And Rosie must trust her bruised heart with the guy who nearly crushed it.


Come back to Bangers Tavern for a steamy, laugh-out-loud, opposites-attract romance that ignites in all the worst ways—and the best! 



But why did Dawn hang mistletoe from the bar’s ceiling if she didn’t want people to kiss? Eddie would wait until the boss was in her office, then find some excuse to linger beneath that clump of green, his eyebrows flicking up in a flirtatious question. You wanna?

Damn it, she did wanna. His crooked smile was so tempting. And his lips were so soft, his kisses so sweet—unlike the slobbery mauling she got from most guys she dated. Desire simmered under his cool surface, making her want to dive deeper.

New Year’s Eve served up the perfect excuse. When the bar staff toasted the new year, it was so easy to land in Eddie’s arms. So easy to keep dancing as their coworkers filed out, leaving them alone beneath the kitschy disco ball, its dizzy sparkle whirling them around and around. 

And now he slept beside her, sunlight glinting off his wavy brown hair, glossy lashes fanned across his cheekbones, dark scruff shadowing his razor-sharp jaw. So pretty, so vulnerable, so one hundred percent wrong for her. Clean-cut guys like Eddie never stuck around with girls like her. God knows she’d bashed her head against that brick wall enough times to learn her lesson.

Breath held, she gingerly removed his hand from her breast and wriggled toward the edge of the bed. Eddie sighed and squirmed into the space she’d vacated, nuzzling her pillow. No, she corrected herself, his pillowGotta get out of here.

Rising on unsteady legs, she turned back for a final look. Sleep melted his solemn daytime expression into peaceful sweetness. His bare shoulders rose on a shiver. As she bent to tuck the quilt around him, her boob brushed his arm. 

“Huh?” His eyes fluttered open. His brow rumpled, then smoothed as a bleary smile spread across his pillow-creased face. “Good morning,” he croaked and pushed up on his elbow. His gaze sharpened as it raked over her naked body. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.” She waved a limp hand over the bed. “Last night was, uh—really something.” She shuffled backward, stifling the impulse to cover her bits. After all, he’d seen every inch of her. He’d sampled it all, too. Twice, if she recalled correctly. The details were still kind of blurry, but she remembered lots of giggling, Eddie’s silky hair tickling her inner thighs, the slap of flesh on flesh, and a climax so powerful she nearly blacked out. 

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Ever since her first kiss, Sadira’s been spinning steamy tales in her head. After leaving her teaching career in Germany, she finally tried her hand at writing one. Now she’s a happy citizen of Romancelandia, penning contemporary romance from her new home in Washington State, U.S.A. When not writing, which is seldom, she explores the Pacific Northwest with her charming husband, enjoys the local music scene, plays darts (pretty well), plays guitar (badly), and gobbles all the books. Visit Sadira at

I’d love to hear from you! Please visit me on all the socials.


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Monday, March 8, 2021

Calling All Gamers!

As an author, one of my responsibilities is getting the word out to the general public about my books. Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s a hassle, and sometimes it’s downright embarrassing. But, since I’m neither Nora Roberts nor Danielle Steele, it’s a necessary part of my day. In fact, it’s a regularly scheduled part of my daily routine—I spend at least one to two hours daily on marketing, either current books, an upcoming book, or looking for new opportunities.

One of those new opportunities recently landed in my lap, and I’m pleased to share it with you now.


My book, Five Minutes to Love, has been chosen by Romance Fate, a company that turns romance novels into interactive games, and will appear on their gaming platform in six to nine months. 


When my publisher contacted me about this opportunity, my first reaction was to double check she had the right Jennifer. Seriously. Then it was to check out the site, because really, a game? But I checked them out and they’re legit. Turns out, they have more than one million subscribers, and their demographic is women between the ages of 25 and 35 years old. From what I understand, they develop an interactive game based on the book where the player can choose what to do.


It actually sounds kind of neat, especially for this particular book.


Normally, I might be concerned about them choosing the second book in a three-book series, but since all of the book stand alone, and since Five Minutes to Love actually takes place chronologically before the first book in the series, I think it works. And with speed dating, or rather, a failed speed date, as the meet-cute, well, I think there are great possibilities!


Of course, I had other concerns. Will the company remain true to my brand? Will they make radical changes that I find embarrassing or offensive? The answer is no. They categorize their games by romance subgenres, and they’re not going to change my subgenre (although they may add a character or two). What that means is they’re not going to make my contemporary romance into a dinosaur romance, or erotic, or violent. J


So, here’s what you can do for me. If you have friends or relatives who play games on their phones, let them know about Romance Fate. And my book. If you know someone who might want to play these games, let them know about the apps. And, if you’re curious about which of my books is going to be part of the gaming world, of course, feel free to check it out.

Monday, March 1, 2021

Time For A Cover Reveal!

Today I'm excited to show off the cover for my upcoming release, A Reckless Heart.

This one has a funny story connected to it. As an author with a publisher, when I submit my manuscript to my editor, I also fill out a cover art form, telling the art department what my book is about and what I’m looking for in a cover. Ultimately, I don’t get much of a say, but this form is where I pour my vision out—what the hero and heroine look like in my head (if I even want them on the cover), what the setting is (in this case, setting is super important and I’m so glad they featured it here), taglines, etc. And then I wait.

Well, in case you haven't noticed, I’m not the most patient person, but I tried really hard not to bother them. They have a lot of authors to deal with, and I don’t like being annoying. But finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and I asked my editor when I might possibly get to see my cover. For what it's worth, seeing my cover is one of my very favorite things about publishing books. Turns out, they’d sent me the cover almost two months prior, only I never received it, thanks to email glitches on both sides. Needless to say, the comment period had long expired. Luckily, I LOVED what the artist created. 


What do you think of it?


To whet your appetite for the story, here’s the blurb: 


Meg Thurgood, former society girl, took the blame for her friend and paid a steep price. Now all she wants is solitude and a chance to rebuild her life. She thinks she's found that in an isolated house she rents from a mysterious stranger.

Simon McAlter has hidden in his house on the coast of Maine since a fire left him scarred. A successful landscape architect who conducts his business and teaches his classes remotely, he's lost his inspiration and is trying to pretend he's not lonely. 

Simon's new neighbor is more than he bargained for. When he learns Meg's secret, will he retreat into the shadows or will he learn to see past the surface and trust in Meg's love? 


As I like to say, it’s a little bit like the Kardashians meet Beauty & The Beast. 


The book is up for preorder, and I’d love you to grab it now!



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PS. Kristan Higgins loved one of the lines in this book, but that's a story for another day. It had to do with zucchini bread.