Friday, July 28, 2017

Friday's Film Adaption: Green Dolphin Street by Elizabeth Goudge


Summary:
When William Ozanne departs the British Channel Islands for a new life in the Royal Navy, he leaves behind sisters Marianne and Marguerite Le Patourel in the clutches of love and longing. A letter to their father finds its way back, requesting William’s beloved to join him in New Zealand, and the sisters are separated. It’s not until she arrives to marry him that William realizes he has asked for the hand of the wrong woman.



Film
In 19th-century New Zealand, two sisters compete for the same man against a backdrop of political unrest and natural disaster.

Release Date: November 5, 1947
Release Time: 142 minutes

Cast:
Lana Turner as Marianne Patourel
Van Heflin as Timothy Haslam
Donna Reed as Marguerite Patourel
Richard Hart as William Ozanne
Frank Morgan as Dr. Edmond Ozanne
Edmund Gwenn as Octavius Patourel
Dame May Whitty as Mother Superior
Reginald Owen as Captain O'Hara
Gladys Cooper as Sophie Patourel
Moyna Macgill as Mrs. Metivier
Linda Christian as Hine-Moa
Bernie Gozier as Jacky-Poto
Patrick Aherne as Kapua-Manga
Al Kikume as A Maori
Edith Leslie as Sister Angelique
Ramsay Ames as Corinne
Gigi Perreau as Veronica (child)
Lynn O'Leary-Jameson as Veronica (infant)
Douglas Walton as Sir Charles Maloney

Awards:
1948 Academy Awards
George Folsey - Best Black and White Cinematography - Nominated
George White - Best Editing - Nominated
Warren Newcombe, Douglas Shearer, Michael Steinore, Arnold A. Gillespie - Best Special Effects - Won
Douglas Shearer - Best Sound - Nominated


Trailer

Clip

Author Bio:
Elizabeth Goudge was an English author of romance novels, short stories and children's books.

Elizabeth de Beauchamp Goudge was born on 24 April 1900 in the cathedral city of Wells, she moved with her family to Ely when her father, a clergyman, was transferred there. When her father, Henry Leighton Goudge, was made Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, the family left Ely and went to Christ Church, Oxford.

Goudge's first book, The Fairies' Baby and Other Stories (1919), was a failure and it was several years before she authored Island Magic (1934), which is based on Channel Island stories, many of which she had learned from her mother, who was from Guernsey.

Goudge was awarded the Carnegie Medal for The Little White Horse (1946), the book which J. K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter stories, has said was her favorite as a child. The television mini-series Moonacre was based on The Little White Horse. Her Green Dolphin Country (1944) was made into a film (under its American title, Green Dolphin Street) which won the Academy Award for Special Effects in 1948.

A Diary of Prayer (1966) was one of Goudge's last works. She spent her last years in her cottage on Peppard Common, just outside Henley-on-Thames, where a blue plaque was unveiled in 2008.


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Changing Lines by RJ Scott & VL Locey

Title: Changing Lines
Authors: RJ Scott & VL Locey
Series: Harrisburg Railers #1
Genre: M/M Sports Romance
Release Date: July 12, 2017
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
Summary:
Can Tennant show Jared that age is just a number, and that love is all that matters?

The Rowe Brothers are famous hockey hotshots, but as the youngest of the trio, Tennant has always had to play against his brothers’ reputations. To get out of their shadows, and against their advice, he accepts a trade to the Harrisburg Railers, where he runs into Jared Madsen. Mads is an old family friend and his brother’s one-time teammate. Mads is Tennant’s new coach. And Mads is the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Jared Madsen’s hockey career was cut short by a fault in his heart, but coaching keeps him close to the game. When Ten is traded to the team, his carefully organized world is thrown into chaos. Nine years his junior and his best friend’s brother, he knows Ten is strictly off-limits, but as soon as he sees Ten’s moves, on and off the ice, he knows that his heart could get him into trouble again.


I have to start off by saying that I am NOT a hockey fan.  I don't dislike it but if all the hockey arenas in the world were to disappear tomorrow, I would not miss the sport. Just felt the need to make note of that fact before beginning, lol.

Tennant "Ten" Rowe is the youngest member in a hockey dynasty who finds himself on the expansion team, Harrisburg Railers.  He is satisfied with his new team but his brothers feel its beneath his talent.  Jared Madsen, one of the Railers' coaches due to his playing career being cut short, finds himself attracted to his best bud's little brother.  Will the fear of coach/player, age factor, or family interference be enough to keep these two apart or will they defy the odds and find happiness together?

I am an only child as is my dad and my mom only has one brother so I have no direct experience with siblings as most of my friends are either the only child or one sibling as well, so I really can only guess that the sibling relationship between the Rowe brothers is typical.  Whether its typical or not, their fighting and loving is believable, entertaining, and just plain fun.  I don't like to touch on the plot too much as most of my followers will know but I will say that when Ten finally stood up to his older brothers, I laughed so hard and frankly I don't think I could have had a bigger smile on my face than I did at that moment.

As I said at the beginning, I am not a hockey fan so on one hand I had some reservations going in fearing that I would be subconsciously effected by my lack of interest in the sport but on the other hand I am a HUGE RJ Scott fan and although I've never read VL Locey, I have heard many good things of her writing.  So I turned on my Kindle with an open mind and jumped in.  I'm so glad I did because Changing Lines is wonderful!

Hockey fan or not, Changing is a lovely fun read that will leave you smiling from beginning to end.  That's not to say there is no drama, because there is but the balance is perfect.  I look forward to reading more tales of the Harrisburg Railers.  It goes without saying how much I love RJ Scott's writing and always have my eyes open for her work but now I look forward to checking out VL Locey's backlist and future work as well.

RATING: 


34398649
First Season #2(Coming September 27, 2017)
Summary:
Layton Foxx has worked hard for what he's achieved. The condo, the career, the chance to make his mark...it's all down to the sacrifices he's made. With tragedy in his past, he doesn’t want or need love. Then he meets Adler Lockhart, the extroverted, sexy winger for the Harrisburg Railers, and abruptly he can’t avoid love even if he wanted to.

Adler Lockhart has had everything handed to him his whole life. Cars, villas, cash, college tuition at the finest Ivy League schools. The only thing he doesn’t have is parents who care, or the love of a good man. Then Layton walks into his privileged life and shows him what real love can be like.

Layton wants success, Adler wants a family...how can love make both these things possible?



RJ Scott
RJ Scott is the bestselling romance author of over 100 romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men and women who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn't with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn't like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.

VL Locey
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.


RJ Scott
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Changing Lines #1
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First Season #2






July 12 - Xtreme DelusionsThe Way She ReadsAu Boudiour Ecarlate
July 14 - Reading In Sarah's CornerThe Smutbrarians
July 17 - My Fiction Nook
July 19 - Sarandipity Book Reviews, MM Good Book Reviews
July 21 - Jessie G BooksBack Porch Reader
July 24 - The Geekery Book ReviewWicked Faeries's Tales & Reviews
July 26 - Nautical Star BooksWe Three QueensBFD Book BlogBook Lovers 4 EverJim's Reading Room
July 28 - Padme's LibraryDog-Eared DaydreamsBayou Book Junkie

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Thursday, July 27, 2017

Peepshow by Clare London

Title: Peepshow
Author: Clare London
Series: London Lads #4
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: July 26, 2017
Cover Design: Tibbs Design
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Summary:
Ever wanted to spy secretly on other people’s lives?

Ken doesn’t have a choice: his student summer job is manning the CCTV screens for the new central London shopping mall. But instead of spotting criminals or vandals, he becomes fascinated by a cute waiter from the local bistro who sneaks out to the backyard for his break—and plays sexy to the camera.

Is he an old friend, or just an anonymous exhibitionist? Should Ken be excited by this naughty peepshow, or will people think he’s a voyeuristic pervert? Poor Ken’s confused and thrilled in turn. It’s like living in one of the movies he’s studying at university. He knows the man can’t see him, yet Ken feels a connection of some kind. It all encourages Ken to continue with his guilt-ridden Waiter Watch.

Ken bears the suspense as long as he can, until a chance meeting and an abortive blind date provide the explanation to the secret assignations. But will this guide Ken to a real-life chance of romance?

First Edition published by Amber Quill Press/Amber Allure, 2013.


Ken had to admit he hated his job. With a passion. Or rather, with a slow-burning boredom and distaste. Passion implied some kind of energy—the agony and the ecstasy!—and Ken had none of that left after another night sitting in the small, stuffy room and gazing at a wall of screens.

He leaned back in his hard-backed chair, stretched, and yawned. A glance at the clock confirmed it was a good hour until his official break time, when the steroid-enhanced Tomas would reluctantly pause in strutting his security patrol around the shopping centre, and arrive to cover Ken’s post while he went for coffee and a sandwich. Then another two hours until the end of the shift at 2:00 a.m., when old Charlie would shuffle in for duty, complete with his tatty Aran cardigan, his Maeve Binchy paperback, and an oversized thermos of homemade vegetable soup, to take over from Ken until the offices opened.

Ken sighed. What a way to spend a Saturday night—or any night, for that matter.

Over three hours to go.

Over three hours….

He yawned again. The screens flickered and settled into a range of views from another angle. There was a bank of them, covering critical points around the shopping centre, and they were manned 24/7. Ken was one of those “manning” people. He was meant to watch the screens closely at all times. The centre was a small one, in Surbiton on the outskirts of London, and couldn’t compete with the massive retail complexes built off the M25 in Essex or central London’s Oxford Street. It was really just a dozen shops hanging out together under the same roof. But these were high-fashion, prestigious-designer stores, full of valuable goods and constantly at threat from thieves, vandals, and general abusers. Or so Ken’s summer-job employers, Safeguard Assured, would have people believe.

Ken thought it wouldn’t be so bad if he actually saw something. Look out, it’s beHIND you! He knew it was ludicrous to wish for theft, destruction, or general abuse—whatever that covered—but he’d been working here for over a month now, and he’d seen nothing untoward. Nothing at all. No fights, no malicious damage to the shops or the building, no tanks ramming through the night-time shutters, no intercontinental ballistic missiles shrieking in from the dark night skies above—only twenty-four hours left to protect historic London!—to destroy everything the population held dear….

Okay, so his mind was rambling again. His mum always said he had a vivid imagination. He’d chosen well when he took a media and film studies course at Kingston University, because he’d always spent far too much time imagining book and movie quotes around real-life events. Of course, Mum’s respect wasn’t always matched by the rest of the family—Dad said Ken lived in a fantasy world, and his teenage brother, Joe, said he was just a sad bloke. Ken sighed again. He knew he was pretty safe here in the control room—except, of course, from the intercontinental ballistic missile scenario—because he wasn’t expected to leap into personal action if he saw any crime taking place. There’d never been any training session for that, just a brief run-through of the screens and the logging in and out procedures, and a schedule of the night-time shifts. He’d been given a list of contact numbers if he needed help. From the way his boss had wrinkled his nose at that, Ken knew it wouldn’t be welcome if he called up his boss at a quarter to midnight to ask where the milk was for his tea. I’m sorry, caller, there’s no record of that number…. No, the contact numbers were for the duty security guards like Tomas, and also an emergency number to the local police station. That was if something went seriously wrong.

Which it never did.

No, of course he wasn’t inviting that missile again. But Ken hadn’t seen any action so far except people coming and going at the takeaways and late-night restaurants, which stayed open until the early hours of the morning. He swung aimlessly back and forth on his chair and opened another packet of cheesy snacks. He could feel the coating sticking to his teeth, but at least chewing it off helped to keep him awake. The Lord of the Rings paperback—three books in one, special offer!—had been last week’s additional incentive, but the boxed set of assorted crime thrillers he’d borrowed from Mum this week—murder, intrigue, and suspense from some of Britain’s finest!—hadn’t worked as effectively. Screen-watchers weren’t meant to spend their time with their head in a book—how would they see the incoming missile?—but it was about the only way to keep the boredom at bay.

“You should knit,” his mate Simon had suggested. Simon knitted, but not lumpy long scarves or hideously misshapen Christmas gloves like Ken’s gran. Si created cool beanie hats and cotton gilets and wonderful album cover designs on sweaters. He was studying textile design at the same university, with fellow students far more arty than Ken’s peers, judging by their clothing and the bold interior design of their rooms. Ken had tried knitting a hat once—you shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it, right?—and Mum was still using it as a tea cosy. She said the gaps down the side gave the steam somewhere to go. Ken hadn’t battled with knitting needles again—he was happier with a storyboard. Yet where had his first year of film studies taken him? Watching rain fall on the concrete pavement outside a shopping centre for hours at a time. There was irony there, somewhere.

He’d tried plenty of things to help pass the time. He played solitaire until he found himself almost homicidal when a three of clubs refused to reveal itself. The book of crosswords had been abandoned at page nine, after he’d expressed his frustration by inserting every obscene word he could think of, whether they fit the grid or not. And his songwriting attempts had never got any further than I woke up this morning before he started salivating for bacon sandwiches and brown sauce. He’d tried sketching out a storyboard for a film project of his own but, unfortunately, Charlie had caught sight of it one night, and now he kept suggesting Ken should remake a couple of Maeve Binchy’s classic stories. Charlie even suggested casting and the songs for the soundtrack. Much as he liked the old codger, Ken now found it less teeth-grinding to keep that work for the privacy of his own room. So he was back to nothing but the screens for distraction.

There was a small yard at the back of one of the restaurants where the waiters came out to smoke. It was plumb in the middle of Ken’s central screen. This one was a French bistro, which meant the prices were too high for his student pocket. Spare a coin for a sandwich, sir? He didn’t have sound as well as a view, but he watched the way the waiting staff nodded to each other, laughed, shared matches for the ciggies. There wasn’t much space to move around in the yard, because the wall between the restaurant and the next-door dry cleaners was covered almost entirely with huge, shoulder-high recycling and waste bins. The waiters leaned against the bins or scuffed their shoes on them. Sometimes the chef opened the door from the restaurant and yelled at them to get their arses back to work. Well, Ken couldn’t actually hear the words, but the chef’s face looked flushed and impatient—even in grainy black-and-white—and Ken’s imagination supplied the language. Although the waiters rolled their eyes and mimicked his gestures as soon as he turned his back, they usually stubbed out the cigarettes quickly and shuffled back indoors.

Sometimes Ken saw them leaving at the end of their shift from a gate at the farthest point of the yard. It was a shortcut back to the housing estate across the ring road. He had to imagine the gate, because it was out of view of the camera, but the waiters would tumble out of the back door with their coats on and backpacks slung over their shoulders, waving and joking with the new shift who were taking over. The place did breakfasts too. Didn’t it ever close?

He’d noticed a group of friends who seemed to work and travel everywhere together—a cluster of students like him, presumably, all dressed in similar hoodies and jeans; two men who were obviously a romantic couple; a mother and daughter who still had a smile for each other after a long night in the kitchen.

Ken grimaced. So it had come to this—he was getting familiar with the monochrome faces of people he’d never meet in real life, probably didn’t want to meet, and who probably wouldn’t want to meet him. He didn’t think of them as friends, did he? That’s what his other good mate Robbie said when Ken shared some of his stories at the pub. “You’re not mates with these people, Kenny. That’d be bloody weird.” Everyone around the table agreed with Robbie. In fact, Ken laughed and agreed too.

Because that’s not how it was. He preferred to consider the people caught on CCTV as his own private soap opera. Previously, on the Surbiton Spectrum Shopping Centre Security Channel…. The waiters at the restaurant. The foxes that came sniffing around the bins, arrogantly careless of anyone else. The police cars that periodically cruised the front of the centre. The fat man who ran the all-night grocer/newsagents, who took a break every now and then, drained a bottle of cola, and had a thorough scratch of his crotch through trousers shiny with wear. The young couple who stocked up the Moroccan cafĂ© at weekends and who loitered in the service road behind the shop for a snogging session. The boy would have taken it further; Ken could see his eagerness—and bloody quick hands—but the girl was always looking over her shoulder in case someone caught them.

Yes, even outside shopping hours, there was a lot of activity in and around the centre. It wasn’t really what Ken was employed to watch out for, but he reckoned he could weave it into his film projects; he could let it inspire him. Everyone enjoyed people-watching, didn’t they? And his personal soap opera was benign. It wasn’t full of clichĂ© gun battles or car chases. Only sometimes did he feel like a voyeur, but without the sexiness.

A waiter ambled out of the French bistro, and Ken’s attention darted back to that screen. The young man moved quickly—maybe he only had a few minutes’ break—and made for the far side of the yard. That corner was partially hidden by two of the largest bins and out of reach of the security lights. The only CCTV screen that covered it was one of the oldest and with the poorest picture. Sometimes one of the waiting staff would sneak behind these particular bins, and Ken assumed it was because they didn’t want to be seen, either by CCTV or from inside the restaurant. Was that what this man was doing? He had his back to Ken, hiding what he was up to. Was he smoking? Taking drugs? Ken had seen it on other evenings. Was he meant to report that kind of thing, or just crimes that involved damage to the centre itself? And how hypocritical would he be, when he’d smoked more than a few things in his time?

He peered more closely and wished there was a zoom feature. He didn’t like to touch the controls too much, since the time he’d fiddled with the brightness, messed up screens one to four, and spent three hours looking at static—I’m breaking up! I’m breaking up!—until Charlie arrived. The old man had shrugged at Ken’s apology, turned the control button to its fullest point, thumped somewhere under the desk, and the screens had all popped back into focus. Luckily, of course, the missile hadn’t arrived at that very time, though Ken rather thought there’d be other clues if the building were attacked from space.

The man in the yard turned his head, and Ken caught sight of his shadowed profile. He wasn’t smoking; he was sucking juice from a carton. A new employee? Ken didn’t think he’d noticed him before. Tall, lithe body in tight black trousers and a white shirt that stretched taut over his pecs, short-cropped dark hair, prominent but attractive nose. Ken couldn’t see his eyes because he was looking down at the carton, but the heavy lids were sexy. Even though the picture was blurred, Ken could tell that clearly enough. And the way the man’s lips tightened on the carton straw was…. Be still, my beating heart. Ken laughed at himself a little bitterly. His poor old dick hadn’t hardened that quickly for a long time. He shifted on the seat, trying to get comfortable again. He really needed to get back out in the dating game again. Oh wait, first he had to find the time to date, didn’t he? But if and when he did, this was just the kind of look he’d always liked, ever since school days, however shallow Mum would say it was to judge a book by its cover alone….

And then the guy turned towards the camera so that one side of his face eased out of the shadows—and he winked.

Huh? Ken leaned forwards in his chair, startled, but the moment was gone. The waiter turned on his heel, threw his empty carton into the bin, and sauntered back inside the restaurant.



Author Bio:
Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.

She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.

All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!


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EMAIL: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk



Peepshow #4
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Pink Lock Picks and Sequined Witch Hats by Carla Rehse

Title: Pink Lock Pinks and Sequined Witch Hats
Author: Carla Rehse
Genre: Young Adult, Urban Fantasy
Release Date: July 24, 2017
Summary:
Seventeen-year-old Gracie Mason is homecoming queen, co-captain of the cheerleading squad, and a member of the student council. She’s also a budding burglar. While attempting her inaugural break-in, Gracie blacks out and wakes up far away from the scene. It turns out she accidentally intruded on a male witch’s “circle of power,” and now she’s bonded to him for life. To break the bond, Gracie must delve deeper into a society of witches that involves a secret club, a shadowy council, and all sorts of magical mischief.

Gracie quickly learns that dissolving the bond with Asher, admittedly a very handsome and charming witch, is more complicated than she initially thought. And right when it seems things can’t get any worse, witches start turning up dead. It’s clear that Gracie is out of her depth as her quest to sever the bond magically turns into a murder investigation.


~One~
New Hobbies
Daddy told me years ago that to succeed in life I need a strong plan, the right tools, and the gumption to follow through. His words of wisdom helped me get elected homecoming queen, become co-captain of the cheerleading squad, and voted on the student council. Now I plan to use them to help me pull off my first burglary.

My plan is solid. I’ve also never backed down from a challenge, not even last year when Brittany Thomas became overly friendly with the entire football team in a sad attempt to deprive me of my crown. People say I started the rumor about the rash of STD cases spreading through the boys’ locker room faster than a brush fire. I didn’t, of course. Why start gossip when the squad of doctors from the local Health Department did it for me?

I take a deep breath as I enter the Trinity Building. At almost four o’clock on a Friday before a three-day weekend, the place is deader than a PTA meeting. It helps that today is the hottest July first on record for Central Texas and the air conditioning in this building is dismally subpar. The Trinity Corporation may claim to have the most upscale rental space in town, but one look at the gold leopard granite floor paired with peach-painted walls shows that’s a downright fib.

The only guard on duty leans back in his chair and sucks down a Sonic Route 44 Coke like his life depends on it. I wave as I pass the security desk, wearing a megawatt smile and fully confident in the strength of my lavender-scented Lavanila deodorant—vegan, of course. Deputy Dawg gives me his usual perv stare before returning to the comic book balanced on his knee.

Centex Therapy, LPC occupies most of the first floor office space. A small bell tinkles when I open the frosted glass door. What decorum the overall building lacks, the waiting room has in spades. Brown leather chairs sit on a bamboo rug and pastel paintings from local artists brighten the walls. A tall grandfather clock in the corner softly chimes four times. This late on a Friday means the room is empty of other patients. Perfect.

Jane, the receptionist, fans herself with a copy of Country Living. “Cutting it awfully close, Gracie. Go on in.”

Dr. McDozzle gives me a pained smile as I enter the room.

“Good afternoon, Miss Mason. Have a seat.” For a head shrinker, he’s incredibly formal. And a non-Texan, who hates football and sweet tea. I haven’t learned much more about him in the last month, but that’s enough to get him tarred and feathered if word got out.

The leather recliner squeaks when I sit down. “Thanks for seeing me on a Friday, Doc.” I twirl a strand of newly highlighted platinum hair around my finger. It goes wonderful with my bubblegum pink manicure. “Mr. Anderson, Daddy’s new lawyer, is now insisting I have two sessions a month with you. Of course, Mama’s lawyer says once a month is just fine, seeing how I’m such a well-adjusted high school senior and all. Almost a senior, I guess, since school’s not started.”  

Dr. McDozzle straightens his glasses. “Yes, well, your parents do seem to have quite the barrage of attorneys involved in their divorce. Have you worked on the homework I gave you during our last session?”

This is such a waste of time. My parents have spent the last five years embroiled in a divorce dirtier than a greased pig-wrestling contest. Both sides of the family have more money than sense, much to the delight of every lawyer in the tri-county area. Not that I want my parents to get back together. Anytime they’re within spitting distance of each other, the tension between them gives me a migraine. Besides, if they hadn’t split up, I never would’ve met Ben.

Ben’s the son of Daddy’s ex-girlfriend. Until four months ago, they all lived together in Daddy’s condo. Ben is a sophomore at the local college and is truly hot, in a geeky, stud muffin, save-the-world, kinda way. Crushing on my almost stepbrother might seem a bit sketchy, but it’s legal—I Googled it twice.

Which means it’s time to start step one in my Get Ben Plan.

I toss my hair over my shoulder before pulling out a pink glitter notebook from my Eiffel Tower-shaped mini-purse.

“You wanted me to write down my feelings about my parents’ shared custody thing. Honestly, I don’t understand why the lawyers are so panty twisted about me spending a week with Mama and the next with Daddy. It means I get double the wardrobe. Hello? What girl would say no to that? It’s way better than Heather’s situation. I told you about her last time, I think. The girl with the hideous frizzed-out curls but drives a cute BMW Z4 roadster? Anyway, her parents are insane.” I continue a steady stream of babble until Dr. McDozzle’s eyes glaze over.  

There’s no clocks in the room, but Dr. McDozzle keeps checking his watch. I’m sure the poor man created a nice therapy plan for me, but I’ve completely derailed it. Mama always says a girl has many tools to choose from in her arsenal—perfectly curled hair, well-placed boobs, and endless chatter are my faves. Besides, Daddy’s been paying therapists a fortune for years to show the divorce court how concerned he is about me. Dr. McDozzle’s earning his car payment today.

Tell us a little about your main character.
Gracie is rather complicated. She’s trying to figure out herself and what she wants in life, like a lot of seventeen-year olds. She also has a strong sense of loyalty and a fuzzy moral compass.
Gracie is the person you’d want in the foxhole with you, as she’d do anything to get everyone out alive.

What actors/actresses do you envision for a Hollywood adaption of your book?
Gracie:  Griffin Arnlund
Asher:   Dylan Sprayberry
Willow: India Eisley
Uncle Jonah: Matt Bonner

Are you a plotter or a pantser?
I’m very much a plotter. I have a “storyboard” wall in my office with three chalkboards for an outline, plot threads, and characters. It helps me to be visual.

How many books have you written? Published?
I’ve written 5 books, but Pink Lock Picks and Sequined Witch Hats is the first to be published.

What are you currently working on?
I’m working on a sequel: Pink Duct Tape and Glittery Broomsticks

And a fun question, what crazy thing do you want to do?
I want to touch a penguin. I have no idea why, but they fascinate me.

Lastly, where can readers find you?
I’m on twitter at @CRehse. You can also find updates on my website.

From 7-16-17 to 8-16-17, I’m also giving away 3 signed copies of Pink Lock Picks and Sequined Witch Hats at Goodreads book giveaway.

Author Bio:
Although not a native Texan, Carla prides herself on having mastered the correct usage of “y’all” and “bless your heart.”

Carla is owned by a persnickety kitty, who rules the computer keyboard and only allows Carla to write when demands for cat treats are met.









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Love at the Right Tempo by Michael Mandrake & Remmy Duchene

Title: Love at the Right Tempo
Authors: Michael Mandrake & Remmy Duchene
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: July 25, 2017
Summary:
Violinist Frederick Tremblay is one of the biggest names in classical music. When it comes to work, he’s all in. There is only time for music and working to make his dreams come through but none for love. Hell, he barely makes time to eat. When he agrees to play at an acquaintance son’s birthday party he figured he’d go in, make his rounds then go home—but his plans change when he walks into the path of Vaughan Singleton.

Vaughan “Sin” Singleton is the disowned heir to a candy empire. After he came out, his life basically ended and he had to start over from scratch. Joining the military was the thing to save him and also the one thing that brought him to his knees. Forced to retire, slinging alcohol wasn’t his dream but he needs something to pay the bills and to assist with easing back into civilian life. When he meets Frederick, Vaughan isn’t looking for love, but one unguarded moment changes everything.

From different sides of the track, Frederick and Vaughan have much to teach each other. But what is to become of their new romance when Frederick’s quirks come to light and Vaughan’s brother shows up?


“Way to step out, man.” Deena giggled.

Frederick ignored her comment and put up his free hand. There was a man behind the bar, but he had his back turned and right now, no one else was there working with him. He looked to be busy drying glasses or perhaps washing. Though Frederick didn’t want to disturb him, he really wanted something else to quench his thirst.

“I’m sorry, excuse me, sir.”

The man turned around and approached them. “What can I get you?”

Frederick eyed the mature gentleman in front of him, taking in his features. Dark brown eyes, hair cut low with a beard and well trimmed mustache. His lips were thick. Kissable. Frederick loved a man with distinct features.

“Oh … um… I’d like a soda. Perhaps a 7-Up or Sprite if you have it.” Frederick continued staring, clutching his violin case tightly in his hands.

Deena seemed to pick up that he was tongue tied. “And I’ll have a beer. Heineken if you have it?”

“Heineken for the lady and a—um—soda for the gentleman,” the bartender said. There was a slightly hitch in the way he said soda, almost as if in disbelief. He then focused his attention on Deena. “Would you like the bottle or a glass?”

“The bottle is fine. I’m a simple kind of gal.” She giggled.

Frederick smiled at the man, still holding onto his violin as if it were a life raft. He wondered why the bartender seemed put off by his request. “Something funny about 7-Up or Sprite?”

The bartender eyed him with his head tilted slightly to the side. “Oh nothing.” He spoke, his lips forming over the two words making them escape his being easily. “Nothing at all.” Without another word, he walked over for a clean glass that sparkled. They had the word Prince’s with a crown on the side in golden letters. Using large hands, the bar man operated the tap to expertly fill the glass with Sprite before grabbing a green bottle of Heineken from a cooler and prying off the cap. When he returned he set the glass before Frederick without a word but offered Deena a smile with her drink. “Ma’am?”

“Thanks.” Deena batted her eyelashes at him.

Flirtatiously.

Frederick suppressed a growl and eyed his glass, watching the bartender walk away again. For some reason, it bothered him that the guy appeared to be bothered by his choice of beverage. “I don’t drink alcohol, by the way. I’m sort of boring. The fact I play violin is the most interesting thing about me.” Frederick set Gabriel beside him in a vacant chair. He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed slowly, still gazing at the handsome gentleman working the bar.

Deena nearly spat out her beer, and she nudged him with her elbow.

“To each their own,” the bartender said. “Did anyone let Stuart know you’re here?”

Frederick finished his Sprite, still gawking at the man. “Yes, the hostess did. I suppose she’ll be back shortly. Do you mind if I ask your name?” Frederick thought he’d go for broke even though it was quite possible he’d be barking up the wrong tree. A part of him said he wasn’t, or perhaps he hoped that to be true.

Deena gasped next to him, seemingly in surprise.

The bartender moved to stand directly across from Frederick, braced his elbows into the bar and leaned in. “If you wish to tell my boss I’ve been an ass to you,” he said, his voice warm and rough. “You don’t need my name for that. All you have to do is tell him the black guy at the bar. I’m the only one here.”

Frederick shivered at the sound of the man’s voice and how he leaned in so close to him. Instead of shying away as he usually did, he decided to play the game. “Actually, I wasn’t thinking that at all. More like, I wanted to know your name so I know the lovely man that is taking such good care of us tonight and, maybe might like to have a drink with me after my performance?” Frederick knew he was going for broke. Gazing at the bartender, Frederick had every intention on finding out something about him, even if it was the disappointing news he’d dread.

“I see.” The barman licked his lips. “I’m working. Drinking on the job is strictly prohibited, and besides—you’re not a fan of alcohol.”

Frederick sighed inwardly. He looked to Deena for help, but she only kept drinking her beverage.


Michael MandrakeMichael Mandrake
Michael Mandrake pens complex characters already comfortable with their sexuality. Through these, he builds worlds not centered on erotica but rather the mainstream plots we might encounter in everyday life through personal experiences or the media.

Remmy Duchene
Multi-published Remmy Duchene was born in St. Anns, Jamaica and moved to Canada at a young age. When not working or writing, Remmy loves dabbling in photography, travelling and spending time with friends and family.


Michael Mandrake

Remmy Duchene







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