Showing posts with label humor and romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor and romance. Show all posts

Monday, March 26, 2018

I Love Hearing From Readers by Vonnie Davis

Writers live for book reviews. But when a reader you've never heard of takes the time to reach out personally with an email, it brightens your week in so many ways. Every writer hopes she touches a reader. With me it's usually with a giggle or snicker. So much sadness and meanness is happening to us now. A few words of kindness brightens my world.



Here's her email--
"I just started reading my very first one of your books- "Finding Cameo"- and I have a minor complaint.

My ribs hurt, my glasses are all messy from where I've had to keep wiping the tears out from behind them, and my cat is mad at me because I'm making these weird laughing, gasping, and wheezing sounds when she was trying to sit on my lap.

And I'm only to chapter 9 so far. Heaven only knows WHAT shape I'll be in by the time I finish the book.

Good heavens, you're funny. I LOVE the way you write. I sadly needed a good laugh tonight, and you have definitely delivered. I just wanted to drop you a line and tell you thank you SO much for making me laugh so hard tonight.

-Jenny X, still giggling and wiping the tears out from behind her glasses


AMAZON ORDER LINK:  http://a.co/gxHWWhs

BLURB:
Bowie Matheson filled in the blanks of a computerized arrest form for public drunkenness against Giles McFlinn—his third apprehension this month.  It was nae coincidence Giles’ wife had moved out a month ago.  ′Tis what a man got for marrying for lust instead of wedding a friend. Someone he could talk to and discuss the secrets of the world with.
Bored to death with the dull routine of police clerical work, he stood, stretched, and snatched his empty coffee cup off the metal desk. He was pouring a fresh jolt of caffeine when a wild-eyed, redhead stormed into headquarters. She vibrated with angry thunder and flashed with lightning. Bloody hell if she didna make the fine hairs on his arms stand straight out.
Bowie wasna so sure what it was about the unknown female that snagged his attention or made him overflow his mug, burning his hand. He cussed, reaching for napkins to wipe up the mess and dry his hand. His scalded skin stung. Even so, his policeman’s eye for detail took note of her advance.
He didna think it was her long, swinging ponytail or her huge golden spiral earrings that mesmerized him. Nor did he imagine it was her attention grabbing siren-red lipstick she wore so thick it needed kissing off, nae that he’d offer. And he certainly wasna a bit aware of her tight navy skirt hugging thighs made to wrap around a man’s neck.
Her blue gaze landed on him like a thousand-watt sex bomb. That is if bombs had wattages, he wasna so fookin’ sure right now.
“You!” She pointed with a deep-red fingernail as she swayed down the aisle toward him. Navy stilettos beat a staccato beat on the tiled floor further wakening his sex-starved cock. “I want to talk to you or I won’t ever get a decent night’s sleep again.”
What the bloody hell? She couldna mean him. True, he’d gotten shite-faced drunk two nights ago when he found out about his promotion, but he hadna picked this beauty up. Fook him stupid, he’d never forget a pair of legs like hers. She must be yelling at someone else. He spun to see who was behind him. Nae one.
A prickle of unease zigzagged up his spine as she continued to stalk toward him.
Damn, the lass certainly ken how ta make an entrance. There wasna an eye in the place nae focused on the crimson-haired beauty. He supposed the whole police department wondered why she resembled a tigress on the prowl. Sheer irritation shimmered off her and it seemed to zero in on him.
Och, she’s the one. I pick her fer ye. She’s got a mind fit ta challenge ye.
Bear, I ken ye have the duty to pick a mate fer me. But nae now. Nae her.
In their shifter world, the bear half chose the mate for the human half. It was their tradition and at this moment Bowie would like to belt the rat-arsed bastard who’d thought of this insane idea. His bear was choosing on looks which was verra nice for a couple of night’s fun. But when it came ta the long haul, he was more attracted to a woman’s mind; someone he could have long, intelligent conversations with.
Bowie kept his eyes lowered as he carried his coffee to his battered and scarred metal desk. He didna want to give her cause to yell at him some more because he had nae clue what was bloody wrong with her. When she settled in the chair in front of him, her citrusy perfume damn near took his breath away.
His hand trembled slightly when he placed his coffee mug to his right. He leaned forward, folded his hands, fell headlong into her mesmerizing cobalt eyes—and waited.
It didna take long for the next verbal explosion to happen. “My name is Cameo Stone. I’m from south of Cambridge, here in Matheville for a job interview.” Her fingernails clicked a beat on his desk, grating his nerves. “I’ve come to warn you.”
“And what would ye like to warn me about, Ms Stone?” He twirled his ballpoint pen between his fingers.
“I’m going to run you over with my car.”
Aw shite, another nut case. Better bring an officer over to witness the threat.
Bowie motioned for his cousin Chief Detective Kendric Matheson to join them. “Kendric, this young lady is new to our town from England and her name is Cameo Stone.”
Kendric sat on the corner of Bowie’s desk and folded his arms. “I’m pleased to meet ye.” His gaze shifted from Bowie to Cameo, a dark eyebrow arched in question.
“Would ye please tell the head detective what ye just told me?” Bowie gulped his coffee and burnt his tongue. Bloody hell!
She tugged on the hem of her white sweater, emphasizing her full breasts. “I’m a normal woman who has a gift or a curse, depending on how you look at it.” She paused, her gaze going from Kendric back to him. Neither one spoke. They’d heard stories begin like this many times. “I have prophetic dreams. I can foretell the future through them.”
“We ken what prophetic means, miss.” Kendric muttered before giving Bowie an amused look. After all, they lived in an area of bear shifters, witches, fairies, seers, and a warlock who occasionally passed through on his way to wreak havoc on someone’s life.
She nodded. “Good. Last night I had the same dream three times. I was driving on a narrow country road somewhere around here. A man ran out of the woods with a sawed-off shotgun. He had pale-green eyes and wore a black knit cap and a thick black jacket. I didn’t see him at first. Along the edge of the road was a large red rock with a rivulet of water draining from a crack in the tall boulder. He turned his weapon on me and I saw this emblem with the initials, HSS. 
“I tried to swerve my car out of the way since he was aiming at me and I hit a patch of ice. From the water draining out of the big red rock, I guess, the water had frozen because it was so cold.” She grabbed Bowie’s hand. “Then you came running out of the woods, shooting your pistol at him. I tried to miss you, but I ran into you and saw the name on your badge.” She pointed at it. “You rolled over my hood, across my windshield, and made some strange noises on the roof of my car. Then a bear rolled off the boot and ran after the first guy.”
Both Kendric and he laughed.
“It wasn’t funny! I couldn’t find you,” she yelled. “Three times I was naked and I couldn’t find you!”
Laughter erupted throughout the open working space. Officer’s heads swiveled in their direction.
Bloody hell, Bear, this beautiful whacko is who ye want me ta mate?
Kendric, known for his often bizarre humor, glanced at Bowie. His laughter turned into hysterics for they were both shifters. He ken why the man in her dreams had morphed into a bear.
Bowie had stopped laughing, though. In fact, he’d slipped his hands under the desk to hide Bear’s claws materializing along with his warning.
Dinna laugh at our mate. I willna stand fer it.
“Fook me blind with a pogo stick,” Kendric managed between guffaws. “What I wouldna give for a naked woman ta come after me three times in one night.” He stood and walked toward his desk.
Something Cameo had said niggled at his mind. “Did ye just say ye saw the initials HSS?” His bear claws retracted.
“Yes, there was an emblem on his black knit skull cap with those initials on it. His cheeks had these odd tattoos.” He nodded in response to her answers. She relaxed a little now that he’d taken her words to heart. 

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Four White Roses - by Judy Ann Davis


Can a wily old ghost help two fractured 
hearts find love? 
     I'm excited and honored to discover that my newest novel, Four White Roses," was a finalist in the Book Excellence Awards. The Book Excellence Awards were founded by Literary Excellence Incorporated. Books that have received a Book Excellence Award have been recognized for their high quality design, writing, and overall market appeal.


I decided to just post an excerpt from the books along with a few details:
       Rich continued to peer at the vacant rocker, now rocking at a faster pace. “Grandmother? Gertie? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“I am dead.”
 “Then aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else? Like in another dimension?  In heaven or riding a cloud somewhere?” He pointed upward. “Or am I drunk and I don’t know it?”
     “Phfftt, you’re hardly drunk. And I’m not going anywhere while I have unfinished business here on earth.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you to go toward the Light?” His voice rose an octave now.

“Of course.” The voice was getting as annoyed as he was. “But not when I know things you don’t. Not when I need you to finish a few unresolved issues for me.”
Rich moved a little closer to the moving rocking chair and blinked, still trying to process everything. “Can you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Just waltz around willy-nilly on earth after you die?”
The rocker slowed.
Rich dropped his head in his hands and mumbled, “Please, please, please. Let this be a dream…or the effects of good eighteen-year aged Irish whiskey. I’m losing my marbles.”
The voice interrupted, “Buck up, Richard Lee. You aren’t losing your marbles, although you may have a hole in your bag. You are my last hope. You need to find your half-sister, who needs your help, and you need to find those Austrian rubies I’ve searched for my entire life. If not for me, for your daughter, Estella. It’s my great-granddaughter’s heritage and inheritance.”
“Yes, but for the record, how can I tell you’re really the ghost of my grandmother? Tell me something most people don’t know about me.”
                “For goodness sake! What is this? Jeopardy? I see you still can be a pain in the backside with your endless quest for the truth. How about this? The kids used to tease you and call you Richie Rich. And every time you got yourself tied in a sanctimonious knot over it, I used to tell you they could have chosen worse names like Dumbo or Dimwit.”
               Rich’s eyes widened as he stared at the rocker. “It really is you. Grandmother Gertie. Why me?”
               “Because you’re the only direct surviving relative, Dimwit.”
               “But I really don’t know where to start.”
               There was a long whoosh of air, like a disgruntled sigh. “Just how did you pass the bar with such a dull, negative attitude? How about some creative thinking? How about your grandfather’s study for starters?”
               “Where in the study?” he asked, but he instantly he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. The rocking chair now stood motionless.
               “Holy moly, let this be the effects of alcohol or a bad dream,” he muttered before turning and trudging inside, locking the door, and heading straight to his room to sleep.  

A word about the author…
 Judy Ann Davis began her career in writing as a copy and continuity writer for radio and television in Scranton, PA. She holds a degree in Journalism and Communications and has written for industry and education throughout her career.

Over a dozen of her short stories have appeared in various literary and small magazines and anthologies, and have received numerous awards. She is published in multi-genres, including romance, mystery, western, and comedy. Four White Roses is her fourth novel to date.

When Judy Ann is not behind a computer, you can find her looking for anything humorous to make her laugh or swinging a golf club where the chuckles are few.

She is a member of Pennwriters, Inc. and Romance Writers of America, and divides her time between Central Pennsylvania and New Smyrna Beach, Florida.
                             Four White Roses Amazon Buy Link: 


Visit her on: 
Blog: www.judyanndavis.blogspot.com 
The web: www.judyanndavis.com

Facebook: Judy Ann Davis Author 
Twitter: JudyAnnDavis4 
Pinterest: JudyAnnDavis44/


Other Judy Ann Davis titles 
KEY TO LOVE
RED FOX WOMAN
UNDER STARRY SKIES
SWEET KISS [A Novella]
UP ON THE ROOF AND OTHER STORIES


 




 



Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Southern Grandma & Small Towns by @JoanReeves #SmartGirlsReadRomance


Occasionally, I post something funny. Since I'm late blogging this morning, I thought I'd share a joke with you. (See the end of the post for a FREE ebook offer.)

Actually, this joke is more than a joke. It's a picture of life in small towns and rural America--and not just in the South.

A friend who grew up with me sent it to me by email a while back. We are both from the same small southern town.

He and I could probably name more than a dozen women, heck, make that two or three dozen, who could be the Southern grandma at the heart of this story.

Let the Joke Begin

Lawyers should never ask a Southern grandma a question if they aren't prepared for the answer. In a trial, a Southern small town prosecuting attorney called his first witness, a grandmotherly, elderly woman to the stand. He approached her and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know me?"

She responded, "Why, yes, I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a young boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife. You manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realize you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you."

The lawyer was stunned! Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?"

She again replied, "Why, yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. One of them was your wife. Yes, I know him."

The judge asked both attorneys to approach the bench. In a near whisper, he said, "If either of you idiots asks her if she knows me, I'll send you to the electric chair."

In Summation

Yes, that's how it is in small towns. Everyone knows everyone else from cradle to grave. One thing about it, you can't get away with anything in a small town.

That sense of community--the good and the bad--is why I love setting a book in a small town. Recently, I published a romance short story, another in my short reads series A Moment in Time.

Blame It On Chocolate

A Moment in Time is all it takes for Love to be revealed.

Chloe Elliot was the good girl. She’d never been a hell-raiser. Never gotten drunk, used drugs, smoked pot, or slept around. She didn’t even curse!

Since her dad was the son of a minister and the oft-elected mayor, and her mom was the elementary school principal, she'd had no choice but to live a life above reproach. Truthfully, it really hadn’t been that difficult.

Until Hunter Cole returned to his home town.

That was the beginning of Chloe's fall from good girl status. There was just something about the man that addled her brain and created havoc in her body.

Hunter Cole reckoned he had the best of all possible worlds. He'd played for the NFL, and even though two back surgeries had ended that career, he was lucky enough to follow in his dad's footsteps and work the family ranch and also follow his granddad's path and be the sheriff in his west Texas town. Life was perfect.

Until he dropped by the library to say hello to his best friend's little sister.

Chloe wasn't so little any more. In fact, just looking at her made his common sense evaporate. She affected him like no other woman--and he'd had women throwing themselves at him since he was a high school quarterback! If he made a move on her, her brother would nail his hide to the wall. There was only one thing he could do, but did he really want to do that? The thought of it made his bachelor heart shudder with alarm.

This romantic comedy short story, Blame It On Chocolate is only 99cents, and it's available only at Amazon Kindle for now.


Get a free ebook today! Just click to claim yours. Joan is giving away copies of one of her most popular romantic comedies. Just click and follow the prompts.

Joan Reeves is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Sassy, Sexy Contemporary Romance. Her books are available in audio, ebook, and print. All of her books have the same underlying theme: It's never too late to live happily ever after.

Joan lives her happily ever after with her hero, her husband, in the Lone Star State. Visit Joan online: Blog, Website, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Serious Bout of Spring Fever by Joan Reeves

Anyone remember spring cleaning?

My mom used to go into serious domestic overdrive when spring arrived. She gave new meaning to the phrase spring cleaning.

Curtains would be taken down and cleaned. Wax would be stripped from floors. Walls would be washed. Oh, my. The list of cleaning tasks that she thought necessary just because the season changed was formidable.

Me? I'm the opposite. When spring comes, I want to work in the garden, pick flowers, and stare up at the blue sky and fluffy clouds from the comfort of a lounge chair on my back deck.

Spring Break & Other Spring Anomalies

I think spring break must have been invented for people like me. Spring is my favorite season. Just smell that sweet aroma of pollinating flowers and trees! Ahchoo! Uh, oh. That's something else that was invented for people like me. Flonase.®

Spring cleaning, spring allergies, spring break, oh, and spring fever. Spring fever has become the namesake for many things including college festivals, triathlons, mixed drinks, perfume, several movies, poems, and books. The spring equinox has figured in human history for thousands of years from pagan rituals to college pagan rituals known as spring break.

Sap Rises

When days grow longer and warmer, primitive people obviously felt a need to celebrate surviving another winter. The sap rose, in more ways than horticultural, if you get my drift.

Human instinct doesn't seem to have changed much since caveman hunted T-Rex. Even today, we look forward to similar pursuits that involve shedding winter wools and slipping on tee shirts, shorts, and sandals.

Spring Fever

My grandfather always said spring fever is when "a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love." I looked up spring fever in the dictionary. It defined spring fever as "a feeling of languor or yearning brought on by the coming of spring."

Hey, I'm a romance author. I write about yearning all the time. In my novels, a man and a woman yearn for each other—often against their better judgment. That's what creates the push-pull in a relationship that can be quite funny.

In my latest book, Cinderella Blue, I read a review for it that talked about that push-pull and how delightful it was. I like to write that kind of thing.

By the way, by this date, I was supposed to have increased the price of Cinderella Blue to $3.99, but this feeling of languor came over me, and the resulting laziness prevented me from doing so. To paraphrase Miss Scarlett, "Tomorrow is another day—I'll do it then."

Cinderella Blue: available at Kindle * All Romance Ebooks * Kobo * ibooks * Nook * Smashwords.

Do you remember spring cleaning or do you indulge in it yourself? Leave a comment with your email address to be entered to win an Audio Book from Audible.com. Giveaway open until 04/22/2015. Open to anyone who has not won a prize from me in the last 90 days. Winner chosen by random draw on or before 04/25/2015.

(Bestselling romance author Joan Reeves lives her happily ever after with her husband in the Lone Star State. Her books, available as ebooks and audiobooks, all have the underlying theme that is her motto: "It's never too late to live happily ever after." Find Joan online: Blog * Website | Subscribe to WordPlay, her mailing list for readers, or Writing Hacks, her free NL for writers.)