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Here's another snippet from the short story about Barbara and Elmer.  I'm leaning toward The Warden's Light as the title.

         She admired his focus and determination for learning about weather disasters and helping to prevent people being injured or killed in them. It seemed to be his only interest. Her mother said she was just as single-minded about numbers. Well, Barbara had other interests, hobbies, pursuits. She fantasized about plastering herself across the bank of weather monitors in his office, but she wasn’t brave enough to actually do it.

But maybe she could prove to him that not everything was connected to the weather. She’d have pictures to establish the Warden’s Light as a ghostly manifestation. These weren’t ideal conditions for a paranormal investigation, but she wasn’t a professional. She was bored and decided to check it out.

A Friday night and she was hanging out in the woods. Alone. Didn’t say much for her social life.

She hadn’t seen a thing so far. Not even the ghosts wanted to hang out with her. That’s what she got for being too interested in math, her mother said. Or being in love with the guy who never noticed when you wore that sweater, her best friend said.

A light flashed between the trees and Barbara’s pulse leapt. The air seemed to hum. She knelt on the ground to steady her arms against her knees. Her arms were shaking so badly, she’d end up with a hundred images of a fuzzy dot. She forced herself to calm down. Here it was. Here was her proof. Her camera poised in front of her nose, she snapped picture after picture. Her pulse zipped along at one twenty bips a minute. This was going to be good. 

I shared my favorite holiday cookie recipes last December.  You can find them here. 

You can also purchase my books at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Astraea Press, All Romance eBooks, Bookstrand and Smashwords.

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From an untitled work in progress, hopefully a short story: (Barbara is a secondary character in Hauntings of the Heart.)

         The fishy, seaweedy smell of the lake wafted in the breeze, mixing with the damp mossiness of the trees. Barbara stared down the trail where the path disappeared around a curve.

The legend claimed a light would bob along the path shortly after twilight and when one approached it, the light disappeared. Those who claimed to have “seen” it said was the lantern of a warden who disappeared searching for an escaped inmate. Neither he or the inmate had ever been found. Some said the inmate killed the warden and buried him in the sand dunes. Others said the warden lost his way as a storm came across the lake, disoriented by the wind and raid, he wandered into the raging surf and drowned.

Ever since, the light had been called the Warden’s Light and had yet to be documented by an official team of paranormal investigators. She’d checked on the Internet at work this afternoon. Her boss wouldn’t care. He was the one who brought up the haunting. As always he claimed to think it was a natural phenomenon, but to him everything was a weather event. Blizzards, hurricanes, tornadoes, rain storms, cumulous clouds and clear skies. He was fascinated by it all. She doubted he thought of anything else.

Barbara had told herself that a lot lately. Specifically, every morning as she got dressed for work. It didn’t matter whether she wore the pencil skirt that accentuated her hips or the sweater that hugged her breasts, Elmer still wouldn’t notice her. 

Any title suggestions?

As always, you can find my other books at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks, Bookstrand and Smashwords.

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From an untitled work in progress, hopefully a short story: (Barbara is a secondary character in Hauntings of the Heart.)

Barbara adjusted the motion setting on her camera and snapped another shot of the trail. She wrapped the strap around her wrist and wandered a few yards along the road—if it could be called that anymore. Weeds grew up through the middle and crowded in from the sides. A gust of wind caught a handful of leaves and tossed them in front of her. The trees swayed and creaked, sending chills down her spine.

It’s certainly creepy out here. No wonder there were stories, but with the dim light and building fog, she doubted she’d find anything useful tonight.

She took off her glasses to clean them on the bottom of her black turtleneck. The fog clouded them up in minutes. Surveying the woods, she tried to discern the shapes of brush and undergrowth from the darkening sky. Professional investigators would have been better prepared. Tripods, extra batteries, voice recorders, flashlights. The farther she traversed from her car the more items she added to the list of things she should have taken. She’d headed into the woods with only a camera and pepper spray on a dare. 

Any title suggestions?

As always, you can find my other books at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks, Bookstrand and Smashwords.


And Sucker for a Hot Rod got a great review from the Knight of the Round Table. 

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From Hauntings of the Heart:

Gordon Anderson dropped his fedora on the worn Formica
counter in the Carterville Register of Deeds office. He pressed the
bell labeled ‘ring for service’ and waited.

An empty office chair sat in front of shelves of files and
ledger books on the other side of the counter. Some of the books
appeared a hundred years old, and one of them held the records of
his family’s downfall. Events he planned to rectify, if only to ease
his mother’s final days.

A woman with unnaturally auburn hair approached the
reception area from behind the shelves. It had been long enough
since she’d been to the beauty shop that a half-­‐‑inch of white glared
out from her roots. She placed a stack of manila folders on the
counter and evaluated him over her half-­‐‑rimmed glasses. She wore
a cream blouse with a large silk bow at the collar and light blue
polyester pants. Dust smudged her sleeves where the folders had
rested.

“May I help you?” she asked, brushing at the marks.
Gordon leaned against the counter. The woman seemed
familiar, but he didn’t know anyone around here that old. Then he
realized she was probably the same age he was, probably one of his
friends. He’d been gone too long. He guessed, “Maybelle?”

The woman flushed slightly. “Yes.” She paused and he
could feel her dissecting the wrinkles around his eyes. “Gordon
Anderson?”

He smiled. She did recognize him, but he couldn’t judge the
tenor of her voice. Pleasantly surprised, or mildly disgusted? “It’s
been quite a while,” she said. “What brings you back to town?”


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From Hauntings of the Heart:


“My client is prepared to make it worth your while.”
Minnie Schultz rolled her eyes and shifted the phone against
her shoulder. She’d received offers to sell her bed and breakfast
before, but this was outrageous. She traced the six zeroes the
attorney had quoted on her notepad until there were indents in its
cardboard backing. One million dollars.

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From CEOs Don't Cry:

“I heard you have a new boss at the tax place,” Bryce said, tracing the broken edge of his fingernail along the wood grain on the table. “Is she pretty?”

This was it. This was why Bryce was badgering him. Why he thought Mark might need an extra ticket to the race.

Mark made some notes on his list before answering. “Yeah, some uptight career woman from the big city. She spends all day tapping away on her laptop.”

“A woman, huh? Is she hot?” That would be the only thing that concerned Bryce.

Mark sighed. Like Bryce hadn’t known the new manager was a woman. Leslie had been in town less than twenty-four hours. Enough time for Bryce to learn her measurements in Carterville. “She has brown hair she wears all twisted up and I’ve seen more curves in plank of wood. I’m not asking her out.”

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From CEOs Don't Cry:

Mark and his friend Bryce are discussing the figure-eight demolition derby race that Bryce has won for the last six years.

“Competition’s always tough. Never let your guard down. Hey, while I’m thinking of it…” Bryce leaned forward and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He flipped it open, withdrew two tickets, and handed them to Mark. “I got a couple extra tickets with my entrance fee. The rest of the guys are getting in with the pit crew, so I thought you could use them.”

“Thanks.” Mark reached for the tickets. They were curled from the fold in Bryce’s wallet. “I only need one.”

“Take ‘em both. You never know.” Bryce winked at him.

Mark pressed his lips tightly together and counted. When he was calm, he asked, “What craft do you bring to the Ladies Night Out gatherings? I always thought you could make jewelry out of petrified bird crap like that guy I saw on the Tonight Show a couple years ago.”

“Very funny. It’s three weeks away,” Bryce insisted, pushing the extra ticket back at Mark. “Lots of things can happen between now and then.”

Mark took the tickets and stuffed them in his wallet. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is not going to end up in Carterville solely to go on a date with me. Let me know if you need the extra one back. I’m sure it won’t get used and it’s a shame to waste it.”

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Scroll down to participate in the Autumn Harvest: Fall Between the Pages Blog Hop. CEOs Don't Cry is available in hardcover on Amazon.com.

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From CEOs Don't Cry:
Genre: Sweet romance

“Hi,” the man said as he balanced on the ladder, then climbed down. He tossed a flashlight into an open toolbox.  Then he looked at her with bright blue eyes and hair littered with cobwebs.

Watching him descend the ladder was the best part of her day.  Not that getting transferred here and spending four hours driving on snowy roads constituted a stellar one.  His jeans and t-shirt clung in just the right places and she couldn’t help but smile back at the grin on his face.  

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CEOs Don't Cry is available in hardcover on Amazon.com. 

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From CEOs Don't Cry:

“Could this day get any worse?” Leslie Knotts muttered to herself, eyeing the watermark-circled hole in the ceiling tiles above her head.  Thudding and a muffled expletive rumbled from the hole.

She yanked her cashmere scarf from her neck and stomped the slush off of her Prada heels.  She took one look around her new office in the Carterville Branch of Hanston and Boyd Accounting and gasped. This place was a phone call away from being condemned. 

Someone shoved the few pieces of furniture haphazardly to the side in favor of a paint-spattered ladder and water stains marked the paneling and the worn carpet.

            As the jingling of the bell on the door died away, something scraped against the ceiling above her and dust sifted onto her hair.  Leslie snatched the handle of her Coach briefcase and backed into the door, jangling the sleigh bells on the handle again.  If a rodent appeared in the hole, she would drive all the way back to Chicago tonight.  She forced herself to take a deep breath, murmuring to herself rats didn’t swear.

Available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. 

Also check out related stories: Sucker for a Hot Rod ebook (on SALE!) and print, and coming soon Hauntings of the Heart. 

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From CEOs Don't Cry:

“Not much.  I’ll pick up a replacement pipe at the hardware tomorrow morning and then I’ll finish the repair.” He leaned against the door frame.  “I’ll have the mess cleaned up by tomorrow afternoon. Where are you staying?”

Leslie reached in her purse for the crumpled Internet directions. “The Lilac Bower on Oak Street.  It was the only listing I could find with long term rentals.  I hope it’s not a dive.”

“My aunt, Minnie, owns it.  I guess you can’t avoid her.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “The rooms are nice.  You won’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh.” Leslie felt her face flush with heat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply--”

Mark shook his head. “No worries.  It’s exactly as the name sounds.”  He coughed. “Purple.”

Leslie’s lips twitched and her gaze locked with Mark’s.  Merriment filled his eyes and Leslie felt something strange happen inside her. She started to laugh.  At the sound of Mark’s low chuckle, Leslie’s heart froze.  Her fingers released the faxed papers and they scattered to the floor.

“Let me get those.”  Mark knelt and shuffled the papers together.   Leslie’s gaze followed his hands.  His fingers were scuffed and a purple bruise marred his thumb nail. A shiver traveled down her spine at the thought he’d smashed it with a hammer.

“Thanks.”  She snatched the papers from him and hurried toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said while whipping her scarf around her neck and throwing her jacket over her arm.

“Hey, if Minnie invites you to the library, don’t go,” he called after her as the door bells jangled.

Look for CEOs Don't Cry at your local library or on Amazon.  For more about Minnie and the Lilac Bower, you'll have to wait for Hauntings of the Heart. Have a great weekend. 

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He couldn’t wait to get Judi out of his garage and out of his truck. How was he supposed to concentrate when she hung around his garage with that swaying ponytail?


Ponytails always revved his imagination. His fingers itched to tug the elastic out and watch her hair tumble down around her face.


He had no idea what he had done in the twenty minutes since her car arrived in his garage. He’d been concentrating on not staring at her or ticking her off.


From Sucker for a Hot Rod.

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From Sucker for a Hot Rod: (Sweet contemporary romance)

“You know her?” Judi asked.Bryce peered over his shoulder at the retreating waitress.Is he checking her out, Judi thought, or trying to remember? He’d probably recognize her more easily if he was looking at her face.“It’s a small town,” he said. “I come here a lot.”


Sucker for a Hot Rod (ebook) Astraea Press

Sucker for a Hot Rod is now available in trade paperback from CreateSpace.

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From work in progress, Locations of the Heart (a sweet, small town romance):

 “You’ll never believe who I saw at the Register of Deeds yesterday afternoon.” Edith tossed her purse on the red vinyl booth across the table from Minnie before she scooted into the seat.

Minnie waved to their favorite waitress, Rachel, who balanced a tray of the day’s specials and a half-empty pot of decaf coffee.  She acknowledged them with a nod and headed toward the rear of the dining room.  The rest of the diner was filled with the usual bunch of early lunchers, reminiscing with their cohorts on the morning news, the chance of an early frost and the state of affairs at the zoning commission.  Years of baked-on grease permeated the air and accounted for the signature flavor of the scrambled eggs.

Edith smoothed down her more salt than pepper coiffure and reached for the special card clipped to the jellies. “I didn’t think he’d set foot in Carterville again.”

“Who?” Minnie asked, already knowing the name that would spill from Edith’s lips.

Edith slapped the menu card on the table.  She looked both ways, then leaned across the table.  “Gordon Anderson.”  Edith raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. 

“I had hoped he wouldn’t.” Her stomach roiled.  He’d been here sixteen hours and she was jumping out of her skin at every sound, expecting him to appear whenever she turned her back.  She attributed it to loathing, but it felt like a high school crush. 

Also available:

Sucker for a Hot Rod (ebook) Astraea Press

Sucker for a Hot Rod is now available in trade paperback from CreateSpace.

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