#MondayMorningMusic – Queen – We Are the Champions

A Man and his Skull…
Sklmsta [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I had a dream about Mike Rowe the other night. Wasn’t a sex dream (though I wouldn’t have complained about that), but rather a dream about acceptance. He was who he was (or, rather, how I imagine him to be, that is not exceedingly different from his public persona – witty, and charming, and the teeniest bit crass. The type of person who what you see is what you get.) As for me, I was my usual goofy, scatterbrained self, easily sidetracked down rabbit holes.

Anyway, in this dream Mike (why wouldn’t we be on a first name basis?) and I lived in an apartment building, but the apartments were more like upper-end-of-affordable hotel rooms, but much larger. Anyway, Mike and I hung out, flirting the way you do when you like someone but no haven’t admitted it to the other, and he ultimately asked me out on a date. (I *so* wouldn’t complain about this, either… Ha!)

For some inexplicable reason, he waited in his car while I went to go put shoes on. I went from adding shoes to changing clothes to looking for a restroom – which involved walking down a city street and finding a place marketed for mothers and their children, which led to playgrounds and an inability to find my way out – forgetting about poor Mike sitting in the car waiting for me. At some point, I checked my phone and he’d sent text after text of funny memes and jokes and the like, poking good-hearted fun at my squirrel chasing and encouraged me to meet him back at the apartments. I felt awful about forgetting him, but felt even worse when I looked down and realized I was wearing two different shoes (a Doc Marten on one foot and a Chuck Taylor on the other, for what that’s worth).

In the end, I raced back to the apartments to meet Mike. We hugged and went a bit curly (K.J. speak for getting cuddly) and just laughed and laughed and laughed.

When I woke up, feeling decided much more like myself, I realized two things – 1 – I should always fall asleep watching something Mike Rowe narrates (in this case, an episode of How the Universe Works) if it means I’ll have dreams about him, and 2 – this dream is a variation on a recent theme.

See, I got to watching the Pitch Perfect movies recently – I’d seen bits and pieces of the first, but had never gotten around to watching the whole thing. And I’d wanted to see the second, because of Flula Borg (I don’t watch his videos often, but when I do, they always crack me up, having grown up in Germany and all.) It was after seeing the Pitch Perfect 2, and through the snot tears and happy feels, that it reminded me of one of my favorite movies from back in the day, Revenge of the Nerds

Obviously, the two don’t have the same story line, but I love fun, clever movies where the underdogs come out on top after struggling against what seems like insurmountable odds.

The end of Revenge of the Nerds where Louis and Gilbert and the crew rock out at the talent show is one of my favorite movie scenes ever.

But it’s the song that plays after the Lambda Lambda Lambdas drop from their absolute high to the lowest of the low that always gets me. I always think of the movie when I hear the song, and I always think of the song when I watch the movie.

I’m including the final bit of the movie, so it’s a bit before the song comes in, but seriously… who doesn’t love We are the Champions by Queen?


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#MondayMorningMusic – I Wanna Dance with Somebody – Whitney Houston

photo: marfis75

Books were definitely my first love, but running a close second – and actually overtaking books for a number of years in the early 1990s – was music. I was too busy hitting the clubs to read much, though I kept my connection with the written word by keeping a journal, handwriting all the drama and insanity that went hand-in-hand with the constant go-go-go.

Back in the 1980s, when I lived in Germany, I spent a few years conning my way into a club in Oberusel, two years underage (14, as opposed to 16 to get into the club). I still have zero idea how I pulled it off, given that I still can’t pass for my age on a good day.

At any rate, a German friend of mine – who I had a huge crush on – used to dance with me and once saved me from being in the middle of the very first bar fight I ever saw (as opposed to when I was in the thick of things, but that was years down the road). He kept an eye on me and made sure I didn’t do anything too stupid. He was three years older than I was, and was a saint for putting up with me for any number of reasons.

I don’t remember how Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” ended up being what I associate with CMR – I do know it was popular during this time, and we must have danced to it somewhere along the way.

I won’t make this post all maudlin – there will be a time and a place for me to write more in depth about CMR and the “too short while” and the only regrets I have in life and sadness, but it won’t be today. Today I’m content to tap my foot and sing along, love on him the only way I can, and wish he was here to dance with me.




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Lapses of Memory by M.S. Spencer

Please welcome M.S. Spencer to the blog. She’s here to share her new release, Lapses of Memory.

I’m a relatively seasoned traveler, but M.S. Spencer puts me to shame, and I bow at her place-hopping prowess. 🙂

In any case, I’m glad she’s here.

Lapses of Memory can be purchased at the following retailers:

The Wild Rose Press / I Tunes / Amazon
Barnes and Noble / KOBO / Bookstrand


Lapses of Memory

Wild Rose Press, 3/15/2017, Imprint: Champagne Rose
Contemporary romantic suspense/Action Adventure; M/F;2 flames
Ebook (70,560); Print: 296 pp.


And Here’s M.S. Spencer…

Old Town Alexandria


Thanks for having me at your wonderful site, K J. I’d like to talk about my new romantic suspense Lapses of Memory, in which two romances intertwine as a mother recounts her life-long love affair while her daughter juggles two lovers. The setting is Old Town Alexandria, one of my home towns, where both Artful Dodging: the Torpedo Factory Murders, and The Mason’s Mark: Love and Death in the Tower take place as well.



Every few years from the age of five Sydney Bellek meets her true love Elian Davies, but while he remembers her, she doesn’t recognize him. Only after surviving wars, revolutions, and years of separation will she realize they are meant to be, but this time it is Elian who has lost his memory of her. Will he remember her before she loses heart or will their new love be enough to replace the old one?

In the frame narrative of Lapses of Memory, Sydney Bellek’s daughter Olivia is writing the story of her parents’ life together.  While Olivia labors to get her mother to cooperate, she has little time to concentrate on her own dilemma.

Poor Olivia! Forced to choose between two handsome, accomplished, loving men. Men who represented polar opposites. Rémy, dashing, rich, world traveler—French. Benjamin, dependable, reasonable, domestic, American to his Pilgrim core.


Excerpt (G):  Sydney Interferes

Olivia opened the door to the dining room and stopped. A tall, thin man stood awkwardly by the table, his long, patrician fingers nervously tapping the back of the chair. He stared at Olivia, mouth twitching in what could have been a rare attempt at a smile. Olivia spat out, “Benjamin!” Hands on hips, elbows out, she swung around, barely skimming her mother’s solar plexus. “Mother!”

Alice appeared from the kitchen door with a tray. “Dinner is served.”

The meal couldn’t have been jollier. Olivia spent most of the time scowling at her mother whenever she thought Benjamin wasn’t looking, and Benjamin spent most of the time examining his plate. Sydney gave up on small talk after the first ten minutes. As Alice cleared the dishes, she poured coffee into her grandmother’s delicate Wedgewood cups.

“Shall we take our coffee into the living room?” The other two diners nodded mutely. Sydney reflected that perhaps she had miscalculated the teeniest bit. She preceded them and surreptitiously poured a thimbleful of brandy into her coffee before turning to face them. “Well, it’s so good to see you, Benjamin. How’s the senator?”

Benjamin sat on a spindly chair as far from Olivia as possible. “Look, Mrs. Davies—”

“Sydney, please.”

“Uh, Sydney. I appreciate your invitation, and I’m ready to talk, but I think”—he glanced at Olivia—“she feels differently.”

Olivia’s eyes grew wide. “Me? It’s you who told me, and I quote, ‘I guess there’s nothing more to be said.’ ”

Benjamin stood and began to pace. His light gray eyes glinted in the lamplight. He dug under his mop of rich brown hair with a finger. “But you said—no, you announced—that you intended to go with Rémy.”

Olivia flounced onto the sofa, spilling her coffee. “I did no such thing. I asked you what you thought, and you—”

“You could care less what I felt, Olivia. You’d made your decision. I know only too well that there’s no changing your mind once you’ve settled on a course of action.”

“Well, I—”

At this point, Sydney slipped backwards out of the room, taking care to grab the brandy bottle. Her work was done. With luck, not temporarily.


About the Author

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center.

Ms. Spencer has published ten romantic suspense novels, and has two more in utero. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

M.S. Spencer Online

Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads
Pinterest / Google+ / LinkedIn

Her Calendar of Events can be Found at:

Romance Books 4 Us



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#YoursTruly Release Day is Here! #TWRP Rocks!

Mornin’, y’all.

It’s going to be a normal, busy work day around these parts, but I’m excited release day is *finally* here, thanks to the hard work of my publisher, The Wild Rose Press. They’ve been awesome (shoutout to my editor, Leanne!) helping me get Yours Truly (re)ready for publication.

If you’re so inclined, here’s where you can purchase Yours Truly:

The Wild Rose Press (E-Book) – The ebook is 50% off!
The Wild Rose Press (Print)
Amazon (E-Book)
Amazon (Print)
Bookstrand (E-Book)
Kobo (E-Book)

I have no idea why it’s not at Barnes and Noble, but you can find the epub version at any of the above, except Amazon. Obviously. 😀


Izzie Greene never wanted the limelight. As a caterer for Poe, the top-rated U.S. TV show, she had background player down pat. Her main focus was to spoil the cast and crew and fantasize about her celebrity crush, Scotsman Cardwell Bennett, while navigating the daily chaos.

Izzie’s professional life takes a sharp left turn when her ex-boyfriend unexpectedly arrives on set. Her personal life spirals into Hell when she runs afoul of an unethical paparazzo. Thrust into the public eye, her notoriety is fueled by equal measures of constant scrutiny, speculation, and half-truths. Her rumored romance with Cardwell further stokes the flames.

Held captive by the media, accident-prone Izzie struggles to keep her privacy, secrets, and sanity intact—not to mention her sense of humor. With help from her best friend Delly, her temperamental cat Edgar, and unexpected backup, Izzie might withstand the onslaught. And survive the season.


Not to be deterred, I shoved a pile to the floor, sat in the small space I’d created, and burst into tears. My hand jerked spasmodically, and coffee sloshed onto my lap.

“Jeez, Izzie.” Delly took the cup and the mutilated donut and set them next to the laptop. “Please tell me you’re not wasting any more emotional space on Ritchie.” She threw an armful of the clothes I’d bulldozed to the floor in a box and crammed the top shut, glancing up long enough to see me shake my head. “Then what’s the problem?”

My breath hitched in a succession of gasps. “I knew this would happen.”

The sound of packing tape stopped mid-scritch. “Knew what would happen?”

“That he would finally decide I wasn’t good enough.”

Delly’s eyes narrowed. “You said this wasn’t about Ritchie.”

“It’s not,” I choked out. “This is what always happens. I’ll live the rest of my life single. Alone. With dozens of cats.”

“You only have one.”

“There’s still time. I’m like Typhoid Mary. A carrier of the dysfunctional relationship gene. I. Am. A. Pariah.” More clothes tumbled to the floor, propelled by my kicking feet, before I curled into a ball.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” The tape clattered to the floor. Delly grabbed my arms and pulled until I was back upright. “Your biggest problem isn’t that the men you choose to date don’t think you’re worth the effort. You’re just dumb enough to believe it.”

I threw her my most hateful look. “Screw you!”

Delly stomped her foot. “Damnit, Izzie Greene, you listen to me. You are amazing. You’re smart and beautiful and funny.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to love me.” My bottom lip jutted out, quivering.

“And you’re an incredible baker.” Her voice rose smugly over my protestations. “Cardwell B. loves your chocolate and cranberry scones.”

“That’s rich.” I snorted my disbelief. “If Ritchie doesn’t think I’m good enough, then Cardwell’s sure as shit not going to.”

“Don’t be stupid. Cardwell is nothing like Ritchie. He’s a nice guy.”

“Riiiiiight.” Nice guy didn’t translate to much in my dictionary. Ritchie had been nice, too…once upon a time.

Delly ignored my sarcasm. “No joke, Izz. He cornered me yesterday while everyone scrambled for that stupid bird, raving about those damn scones.” She shoved a fistful of tissues into my hands. “I know you’re upset, but get your shit together.”

I teared up again and motioned to the clothes-covered futon. “I was trying.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t trying.” Delly sat next to me and threw her arm around my shoulder. “Let’s finish packing. Then we’ll have girls’ night. Tomorrow morning, we’ll work the gig then head to the shop, and you’re prepping scones to bake first thing on Monday morning. They’ll be freshly made. Hot and steamy. Butter will drip off those scones.”

“Only you could make food sound like porn.” I sniffled and wiped my nose.

“Would porn with Cardwell really be bad?” She jabbed at my bare feet with the toe of her boot, forcing me to tuck them out of harm’s way.

I shot her a death glare.

“What?” Delly pulled her innocent face. “At least he can act.”


In the instance of something I find really cool, I stumbled across the following this morning. Any fans in Japan? 🙂


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A Kiss to Build a Dream On by Katie Baldwin

Please meet Katie Baldwin and her debut novel, A Kiss to Build a Dream On, to the blog. Katie is a writer after my own heart – she’s obviously got great taste in subject matter. 😉 Plus anyone who has a “ferocious passion” for Nutella is okay in my book!

A Kiss to Build a Dream On can be purchased at the following retailers:

Amazon / The Wild Rose Press / Barnes & Noble

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: March 1, 2017
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor

ISBN# 978-1-5092-1316-0

Rating: Hot (R)
Number of pages: 252
Word Count: 59190

About the Book

Bethany Michaels leads a fairly isolated existence, but she longs to be an outgoing and sexually confident woman. When her celebrity crush comes to town, and literally falls at her feet, her prayers seem to be answered. But can she protect her heart while still experiencing true passion?

Hollywood celebrity Aidan Shannon, drunk and lost in small-town Virginia, finds himself in the home of a beautiful woman, and he finds her more than just a little alluring. Bethany is voluptuous and nurturing, fragile, yet steely. And that is a problem for a man who never wants to be tied to another woman again.

Living in the now is good enough for Aidan and Bethany for the short term. When the universe steps in and shows them what’s important, will Aidan take a chance on love a second time around when his girl needs him?



Well, either she was a crazy fan about to poison him or she was a shapely woman who was about to save him from a diabolical hangover. In for a penny, in for a pound. He eyed the tea one more time before making a decision.

Aidan carefully sipped the tea, unsure what to expect. Before the liquid touched his lips, his stomach clenched. This was going to be dreadful. Not even someone with his acting skill could pretend this tasted good.

“Drink it all, Mr. Shannon, or it won’t help,” the sweetly militant voice cautioned.

“It tastes worse than it smells,” he said, trying not to whimper. But then he realized she had said “Mr. Shannon.” He sighed. “It appears you know who I am.”

“Are you kidding?” The woman before him giggled softly. “The entire town is in ecstasy because you guys are filming your movie here.” She paused as she narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. Don’t try to distract me; drink your tea. How about this…? If you drink it, I will make you some eggs.”

He considered arguing but drank the whole thing down like a shot of whiskey.

“Good!” She looked as if she were trying not to laugh when he immediately grabbed the bottle of water and drank a giant slug from it.

“I left a towel and a new toothbrush in the bathroom. Why don’t you take care of yourself, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Well, thank you, Ms…?”

The woman smiled. “I’m Bethany Michaels, Mr. Shannon. You are in my home. I found you singing away last night on a bench by the library where I work. I didn’t recognize you right away, I’m sorry to say, but once I did, I tried to get a cab to escort you back to your hotel, but you refused to go. You see…” She paused, as a sweet blush bloomed on her face. “You apparently thought that you and I were going to…to…well, you know. After convincing you that I did not want to “ride the Aidan train,” as you so delicately put it, you somehow convinced me to take you to my place—I’m still not sure how you did that—and you ended up asleep in my guest bed.”

Aidan grimaced. “Ms. Michaels, I—”

“Call me Bethany,” she said, patting him soothingly on the shoulder.

“Bethany, thank you for taking care of me. It means more than you can possibly know.”

“You’re welcome. I admit I’m a fan and am happy to help. I’ll give you some privacy now.”

“Bethany, you’re to call me Aidan then, right? I’m terribly sorry about the ‘train’ remark. Whiskey makes me incorrigible,” Aidan said, smiling.

“Let’s pretend it never happened, shall we? I’ll leave you alone so you can shower.”

“No need to leave, I mean…”—he glanced beneath the sheets at his unclothed body—“you’ve seen me naked so…”

“No! Mr. Sh—I mean Aidan, I most certainly have not! You disrobed yourself after I had already closed the door.” Then she paused, her face reheating. “I mean, well if you don’t count seeing you naked in Robot Warrior. But of course, you don’t mean that. I should go.”

“Bethany, a movie or last night, you’ve already seen me. No need to leave.”

“Are you still drunk? Because you still seem pretty incorrigible to me.”


About the Author

Katie Baldwin has a secret life. During the day she is a mild-mannered administrator at a University. By night she writes fantastical tales of romance and mystery. When she is not pacing her home working out dialogue in her mind, she is baking scones and working out dialogue in her mind. Aside from writing, she has a ferocious passion for the Green Bay Packers and Nutella. She can be found on twitter waxing eloquently about all of her passions. Go Pack Go! She can be reached via twitter @katiebwrites.


Katie Online



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Morning Music Memories – Wenn ich Wollte by @SELIGmusik

“Wenn ich Wollte” by Selig is a song I discovered the last time I went to Germany in 1994 -an elopement trip to marry Army man (a marriage that, thankfully, didn’t happen) which was a year after the death of the man I should have married (who was German and whose mom I got a chance to see while I was there).

I was in my room at the Gaesthaus with MTV playing in the background, when the video came on. I found the scandal over the naked musicians hilarious, especially in Germany where the naked body isn’t as big of a deal as it seems to be in the States.

Long story short, I tracked down the CD and schlepped it back home three weeks later after my relationship fell apart.

You can find Selig online at their website (it’s in German) and their Facebook page, if you’re interested in hearing more.

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Happy Valentine’s Day!

For someone who peddles in romance, I kinda suck at pulling together a thoughtful post about it. More a planning issue than a celebratory issue. 🙂

So…I hope everyone has a wonderful day and enjoy the love.

And Erasure… because even unrequited love deserves a nod. 🙂

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#YoursTruly Now Available for Pre-Order!

They say the third time is the charm, and I’m pleased as all get-out to announce that Yours Truly has a release date and that it’s currently available for pre-order.

So, mark your calendars for March 3rd and take your bad selves over to Amazon (or click on the cover image) and pre-order your copy.

Yours Truly hasn’t yet appeared on Barnes and Noble, but the ebook is also available for pre-order on BookStrand and Kobo. I haven’t seen it listed anywhere else yet, but let me know if you see it available on other sites.

For those of you who’ve purchased previous versions, thanks so much! There are differences between those and this one – every publisher has their own editing preferences, and The Wild Rose Press is no different that regard – so don’t be shy about ordering the most a copy if you wanted an updated version.

Thanks so much for all your support, and y’all have a happy Sunday!



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Goodbye to The Year of the Bitch

Like many others, I am glad to see the back end of 2016 – In short, it was not my finest year. I’ve taken to referring to it as The Year of the Bitch. Honestly, I spent virtually the entire year pissed off or aggravated about something. My chronic health problems kicked into high gear, and I constantly felt like crap, which exacerbated everything. I didn’t feel like being sociable – as many of my friends can attest – or friendly – as members of my family can attest – or witty or creative – as my lack of writing can attest – and I was damn sick of working on Yours Truly. Throw in the presidential election and the seemingly overabundance of deaths, celebrity or otherwise, and it was just an ugly year.

But some great things happened last year, too. My nieces and nephews all progressed by amazing leaps and bounds. My bestie and her partner had a beautiful baby. Work was abundant. My friends and family loved me despite the chronic bitchiness that went hand-in-hand with my chronic illness. And I made it through the edits of Yours Truly despite never wanting to look at the damn thing again. Don’t get me wrong – I love the characters and their story and can’t wait to once again share it with the world (currently waiting on a release date) but…

There’s something about a blank page.

A blank page can signal either abject terror or sheer excitement. It all depends on perspective. And since my perspective in 2016 plowed straight over optimism, this year I’m gunning for pessimism. I’ve had enough. And so, some changes are in order:

1 – Finding a new doctor is high on the list so I can at least have some semblance of order in what I throw at the wall to see what sticks in terms of treatment (one of the hazards of having a chronic illness with no set treatment is wasting time and money throwing random things at the wall because you don’t know what’s going to work).

2 – Figure how to write and be creative even with being sick – that was a huge struggle for me last year. I wasted way too much time berating myself for not writing most of 2016 due to not feeling well because everyone knows you have to write no matter how you feel. /sarc/ No more letting others dictate my rules. This is probably going to be the hardest bit – I have zero idea how to be this sick person.

3 – No more spending so much time on social media (obviously, this has been the case for a while). File previous silence under a disinterest in being social, but after a bit of thought and consideration, I realize the more time I spend on social media, the less I actually have to say.  I’m not yet sure how much or little time this will entail, but my general goal is more blogging and less other social media (though my blogs auto post to other outlets). I also don’t want to continually read drama-laden and mean-spirited posts – I have a hard-enough time maintaining my optimism and since I tend to pick up the emotional states of those around me – even online – I’m being pickier about who gets to spend time in my world. File this under self-preservation.

Hopefully these small changes will create a much bigger effect and my default will be joy and adventuresome – as it was until I got sick – rather than feeling overwhelmed, stomped all over, and generally hateful. I’m always open to suggestions, so feel free to share any you might have.

In the meantime, I wish you a wonderful 2017.

I’m cautiously optimistic.

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The Pirate’s Lady by Tricia Schneider

perf5.000x8.000.inddPlease welcome Trish Schneider and her novel The Pirate’s Lady to the blog, which can be purchased at the following retailers:

Goodreads / Amazon / The Wild Rose Press /
Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: November 11, 2016
Cover Artist: RJ Morris

ISBN: 978-1-5092-1065-7

Rating: Spicy
Number of pages: 70
Word Count: 16,330


About the Book

Captain Marco Dante was captured and sentenced to hang two years ago, but he escaped before his punishment was carried out. Now he’s come back to the woman whose memory kept him alive those long months in prison. Arianne had been his grand passion, but he failed to see how much she meant to him until it was too late. Can he recapture her heart? Or has he lost her forever?

Arianne never imagined she’d see her notorious pirate lover again. Though her heart sings with joy at his return, she knows he hasn’t come back for her but for the treasure he left behind. She agrees to help him find it, but can her heart withstand one more adventure with him?



“I have a life here now.”

“There’s nothing for you here. Your place is by my side. In your heart, you know ’tis true.”
She looked away, turning her gaze to the ocean’s waves pounding the beach with hypnotic rhythm. A few moments ago, she sat here, mulling over her life’s misfortunes and attempting to reach a decision about her future.

Her fate.

Arianne shook her head. “I no longer travel your path. You sail without me, my friend.”

She pushed her bare toes into the grainy sand and stood, brushing the remaining sand that clung to her petticoats. In the silence of the crashing waves, she turned and walked away.

Inside, her heart bled. Yet, she deserved no better. Her life led to this heartache. That she walked away from this man now, after all this time only confirmed it.

“Arianne, you’re coming with me.”

His serious tone warned her of his intentions. She spun to face him, unsheathing her sword in time to block his attack. The sound of metal striking metal pierced the moonlit darkness. Her ears rang with the sound.

They stood, neither moving. She stared into his eyes. “You would take me by force?”

“Never by force,” his voice lowered to a growl. “You will come willingly.” And he smiled, that knowing one she hated.

She let out a howl of outrage and swung her sword. He easily blocked. They stepped a deadly dance of striking blades, until again they were trapped by heated gazes.

Her breathing was heavy, labored, filled with excitement. She looked at his lips, wanting to taste them but knowing she dared not. Her will was never strong around him. With one touch she might lose herself and want him again for forever. But that dream would never be achievable with Marco.

With him, she’d always be alone.

“Come with me, Arianne.”


She pushed away and again they danced. Her feet moved lightly as she sprang, her petticoats swirling with each movement though she hoped they would not entangle her legs. Her arm swung with lithe movements as she fought. She equaled him with skill and grace. Each time their swords clashed, the noise pierced her soul. That she fought him was a testament to her determination to escape his tyranny over her heart. She could not succumb to him again.
As they battled, a sheen of sweat appeared upon his brow. The exposed skin of his chest glistened in the moonlight. His arms flexed as he swung his sword. His grace, his power, his energy seduced her.

Her heart pounded. Her skin ached to touch his. The heat in her lower regions grew to a fiery inferno. She trembled.

Again, they locked blades.

They stood a moment, staring. His gaze burned into her soul. She licked the salty sweat from her upper lip, and his eyes followed the movement with utter fascination.

He pushed their swords away. With his free hand, he grabbed her shoulder, pulling her tight against his chest. Arianne tilted her head to look into his eyes. The blue depths called to her, like the ocean’s waves licking at her feet. The yearning to go to him was too great. She hadn’t the will to fight.


About the Author

tricia-schneider-author-picTricia Schneider is an author of historical, paranormal and gothic romance. Before the supernatural took possession of her pen, she worked for several years as Assistant Manager and bookseller at Waldenbooks. After the store closed, she turned to writing fiction full-time. She has written both short stories and full-length novels published by The Wild Rose Press, including her newest book, The Pirate’s Lady, and her historical paranormal romance series, The Merriweather Witches. Tricia is a member of Romance Writers of America. She lives in the Pennsylvania coal region with her musician husband, their 4 young children and 3 rescued cats.


Tricia Online

Website / Blog
Twitter / Facebook / Goodreads / Pinterest


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