Releasing “It’s Complicated”

HAPPY BOOK BIRTHDAY TO 
IT’S COMPLICATED!
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It’s Complicated
Contemporary Romance
by Joyce M. Holmes

Release date: December 4, 2017

 

He wants a real relationship, she’s afraid to love. It’s complicated, but is it impossible?
She’s a children’s counselor devoted to helping others; he’s a stubborn client reluctant to accept her assistance. He wants a warm and loving relationship; she prefers to keep things physical. Professional boundaries dictate neither of them can have what they want.

Having grown up with no one but herself to count on, Maggie Lapage carefully guards her feelings. Professionally, she goes above and beyond to give others the support she wishes she’d had as a child. When she develops a forbidden attraction to a client’s father, she does what she thinks is necessary, to save his family, and to protect her own heart.
 

Tom O’Shay finds his life caught in a nightmare when he risks losing custody of his daughter. It goes against his character to seek help, but he doesn’t have a choice. That doesn’t mean he has to like it. Everything changes when he falls hard for his daughter’s counselor, and he suddenly has two fights on his hands. One for his daughter, and another for the woman he loves.

It’s complicated, but is it impossible?

 
 
~~~oOo~~~
 
EXCERPT:
“That’s a big gallery, with lots of people going through it. Just think of the exposure your work would get.”
Tom did take a moment to consider it. The Langquest Art Gallery was highly reputable, and the show Tom had done with them had been a sell-out. But to have Maggie go on his behalf to seek out representation, that was too much.
 “What makes you think I want or need to sell my pieces in his gallery?”
“Because, excuse me if I’m wrong, but I had the impression you could use a little financial help at the moment.” The sympathetic look in her eyes made him squirm. No bloody way did he want her wasting any sympathy on him.
“The offer of support is nice, but seriously, my professional life, at least, is doing fine. You don’t have to fix it for me.” Which was the honest, if optimistic, truth. Business was passably good. It could always be better, but it wasn’t on life support yet, and he sure didn’t need Maggie out there drumming up customers for him.
She threw a hand up. “Look, maybe I’m interfering and you didn’t ask for help, but,” she hurried on, gaining speed as she went, “I spoke to this man with the best of intentions. You have lawyer fees and counseling fees, and heaven only knows what else with this court case. They can start to add up—”
“Okay, just stop. You’re making my head hurt.” He folded his arms across his chest. He had no intention of discussing the precariousness of his financial situation with Maggie. “This conversation is over.”
Her eyes sparkled with the love of combat. “Not if I keep talking, it isn’t.”
He glared at her, making it clear he didn’t appreciate her interference. She met his accusing gaze without flinching. “Know what your problem is?” she asked, after
an uncomfortably long stare-down.
“I only have one?”
She reached out and clutched at his hand, those long slender, talon-tipped fingers curling themselves around his, distracting him with their touch. Then she started yapping again, effectively killing the moment.
“You put on a good show, and sometimes I think you even believe it yourself, but you’re not invincible. You can use a helping hand once in a while.”
He shook his hand free and swung away from her, pacing off his frustration. “Contrary to what you believe, I’m not a charity case requiring someone to rescue me. I’ve always maintained if you’re looking for a helping hand, check the end of your own wrist first. I don’t need your pity.”
She moved in front of him, forcing him to stop, returning his impatient glare with an impressively irate one of her own. “It’s not pity, damn it. And it’s not charity. It’s a practical solution to your financial situation. Excuse me for caring.” Both arms flew into the air. “Excuse me for trying to help you out. For going out of my way to come up with
some creative ideas to increase your income. This is a winning proposition for you, one that can pay dividends for years to come. Why are you so stubbornly against it?”
Her logic was infuriating, and it fueled his temper that he didn’t have a reasonable comeback. “Please, just shut up already.”
“Come on. We both know I can’t do that.”
He threw his head back and laughed, more out of exasperation than amusement. “You really can’t, can you?”
“I was only trying to help.” Her tone contained a pout, but her expression remained fierce.
“I don’t want your help. I didn’t ask for your help. Anyone ever tell you how maddening you can be, Maggie Lapage?” 
The force of his words didn’t make her retreat. She stood her ground in front of him and poked a finger into his chest. “And you’re the most pig-headed man I’ve ever met.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“Sure it was.” Even though he was still pissed off, it wasn’t hard to let the smile stretch into a smirk. She looked so damn exasperated, and for some perverse reason he found it amusing. 
“You’re infuriating!” she yelled and wheeled away from him, flailing her arms in the air again. “Why can’t you see my intentions were good?”
He let his smile twist cynically. “Have you heard about the road to hell?”
“I…give…up.” She emphasized the words by drawing them out slowly.
“Wish I could believe that.”

~~~oOo~~~

 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 
Joyce Holmes lives with her husband and very small dog in the beautiful Okanagan region of British Columbia. Photography and blogging about her travels are two of her passions, along with visiting her kids and grandkids. When she’s not dreaming up stories in her head or planning her next great adventure, she’s off enjoying the great outdoors.
 
Links:
 
~~~oOo~~~
 
GIVEAWAY!
 
A $10 Roane Publishing gift card!

Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use a RoanePublishing.com Gift Code.  No purchase necessary, but you must be 18 or older to enter. The winner will be chosen by Rafflecopter, and announced on the widget. Winner well be notified by emailed and have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. The number of entries received determines the odds of winning. This giveaway was organized by Roane Publishing’s marketing department.

Released: “Must Love Fashion” by Deborah Garland

MustLoveFashion_CvrGwendolyn Mallory has landed her dream job. After years at a small fashion retailer, she’s been given a chance to show off her public relations skills for a major brand. What woman wouldn’t be excited to work for Prada in New York City?

Former male model turned Prada Brand Manager, Andrew Morgan is ready to move on with his life—his wife passed away from cancer fifteen months ago. Even though he and Gwen share an initial fiery spark, getting involved with a co-worker has always been on Andrew’s to-don’t list.

The weeks leading up to an L.A. fashion show bring Andrew and Gwen closer to the flame. At night, she dreams of this tall handsome man taking her on his desk. And Andrew is having a hard time keeping his own fantasies under control. But when one of the designers vies for Gwen’s affections, Andrew is awash with jealousy. And out of excuses.

After the show, they share an intense, passionate kiss and some killer heavy petting in one of the dressing rooms. And in her bed, Gwen brings out the man Andrew used to be, wild and hungry. But in the afterglow of their bliss, Andrew learns Gwen has been hiding something about her health. Unable to deal with all that pain again, he leaves.

During a business trip to Milan, Gwen and Andrew give into the heat still smouldering between them. Then Gwen finds out she’s about to be transferred to Italy. Andrew doesn’t want to hold her back from such a great opportunity, but he can’t live without her. He proposes in hopes of keeping her in New York, with him.

What woman wouldn’t be excited to marry a devilishly handsome man in a Prada wedding gown?


Published by Roane Black on White (click the logo to buy your copy now..).


Extract:

It was a secret Gwen would keep throughout the day. A secret for her and Andrew to share.
Gwen and Andrew… That did have a nice ring to it.

“So, he takes up a lot of oxygen in the room, doesn’t he?” Andrew pushed on one of his knees and stood.

“Salvatore’s all showy though.” Gwen fingered the skirt and swooshed the fabric back and forth.

“Do you prefer a man who is more subtle?”

It was the first time he’d dared to ask her personal preferences for a mate, and before he could retract his question or dilute it, she said firmly, “Yes, on the surface.” And smoldering underneath. Like you Andrew.
He stepped a few inches away. “I’m still concerned all the attention will be on you in that dress.” He held his chin, smooth and fresh.

“I was planning on wearing my hair up.” She gathered a handful of waves and swept them away from her face. But when he only stared at her bracelets as they clanged together, she let the bundle fall. “Or—”

“No. No.” The words caught in his throat. His fingers brushed past her cheek, lifting the hair off her shoulders again. “This is perfect.”

Yes, it is perfect. And he should be kissing her by now. Those amazing lips, pink and full on hers…and on other parts of her body, making her feel alive.
His eyes bore into hers, but he said nothing. Gwen preferred to not have to make the first move. How would she know if Andrew really wanted her in the first place, and wasn’t just taking advantage of a willing partner? But how long could she wait for him, before a crazy impulse took hold of her?

“I guess it’s settled. I’m wearing my hair up tomorrow,” she whispered, locking eyes with him.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, letting her hair fall. The weight of so many waves warmed her skin, even though she preferred the heat coming off his body. She stepped back as well and slipped into co-worker mode. “Andrew, be honest. Is this dress…too much? I prefer clothes that are simple and classic. Conservative even.”

“I would call you classic, Gwen. But not simple. You wear our clothes beautifully.” He ran his hand over the suit jacket she had draped on a desk chair. “The way they sit on you tells a story of…of the woman we know other women want to be.”

The compliment left her breathless. “Thank you, Andrew.”

“No, Gwen. I want to thank you.” His shoulders softened. “I need you to know, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“That’s not true.” She swiped at eyes she suspected were shiny with tears, she wouldn’t let fall. Better to be respected as an equal, and not thought of as a weepy lightweight. “You’ve run plenty of these shows.”

“Yes, and I know what it takes to pull this off. There was no way I could have done what you’ve done…for this show.” He ran a hand through his hair, his wedding band was—gone!

The sight took Gwen’s own breath away. She twisted her hair to the side, to keep her hands busy. “Did you want to do one final walk through for tomorrow?”

“No. We’re set.” He bent down to the pick up the shoebox. His back straightened, emphasizing his dramatic height.

She moved toward Andrew to hug him. Immediately there was a different feel to his touch from the night of their first drink. The night when everything had turned around. And upside down. His fingers pressed into her skin. His body molded against hers. Oh, the smell of him, musky and woodsy. Masculine. There it was, his heart, beating wildly. There was so much of this man, his heart must work so hard to pump his rich blood through so many veins.

The feel of his grip softening, meant it was time for her to let go. “Have a good night Andrew.” She touched his hands and leaned upward for a kiss on the cheek. The edge of his mouth—warm and tender as she remembered—caught the corner of her lips. Tickle, Tickle went her stomach.

A strand of her long hair caught in his collar, binding them together for a brief moment. Creating a bridge that could bring them together…if someone was brave enough to cross.


 

One Character To Another

2017-04-24 to 28_Symphony o Heart Strings
T E Hodden has provided this insight to one character in  A Symphony of Heartstrings.
you will have to read the novel to work out which character wrote this letter, as it is a “bonus” – it is not in the novel.


From: Barbary, London.

To: CL9

Subject: Worrying anomaly.

Right, there is no easy way to say this, but there is something wrong with the Loom.

For any auditors reading this, I will assume you know exactly as much as everybody else who tells me how to do my job, which is to say I am going to assume you have trouble finding your own buttocks with both hands and a diagram. The Loom is the web of emotions and relationships that binds the mortals together. Every emotion and action echoes through the web. There are threads of light and magic that links you to every other life you have touched.

Assuming you were mortal. At some point.

The music of the Loom is the symphony of the city. For weeks now there has been a little romantic melody surrounding a girl called Jenny. Nice girl, as it happens, a librarian, born with cerebral palsy, but flourishing. Sweet, kind, and pretty. Her music swells, all strings and brass. That should mean she is meeting somebody who resonates with her. But it never sets. It drops away before it reaches a crescendo. I don’t think this is an accident. I think somebody is manipulating the Loom.

With me so far? Good. Then you are probably asking why somebody doesn’t investigate. They did. Opal had one of his agents, Bob, investigate, and… I am going to remain polite and suggest this is “a worrying anomaly” and not “an absolute shambles.” But… You understand there are only really three rules to what the agents are meant to do? “Help people find life, nudge the world towards harmony, and don’t be seen.” The third of those being somewhat important.

Was it really too much to ask, that Bob not throw himself at the poor girl and introduce himself? We have mortal peeping behind the curtain. This is never, NEVER, a good idea. Do you know how many times this has ended well? NONE!

Opal, you need to get your house in order.


Purchase From Roane Publishing


About T.E. Hodden

T. E. Hodden trained in engineering, and works in the rail industry. He writes as a hobby, when he is not walking the Kent coast, looking for forgotten nooks and crannies of history and folklore.

T E Hodden can be found at Facebook

 

Show No Weakness: Exclusive

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Taylor Sinclair, Joely’s teenaged son, has mixed feelings about his mother’s burgeoning relationship with Cole Dennison. In this exclusive, we “listen in” to Taylor’s phone call to his friend after visiting his father. Note: this is Not in the novel Show No Weakness.
Check the “Released: Show No Weakness” Page for details of the book, released 10th April


“Hey, Taylor, how did the visit go with your dad last weekend?”

“Ah, it was okay,” Taylor told his friend, Nelson. He sprawled out on the couch and thumped his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Really? Cuz, you don’t sound okay. You sound kinda pissed. Did something happen with your dad?”

“Nah.” Taylor frowned and switched the phone to his other ear, then reached for the glass of juice he’d just poured himself. “I’m choked with my mom.” He took several long gulps of juice and put the glass back down with a loud sigh.

Nelson laughed. “That’s been happening a lot lately. What’s up now?”

“You remember that cop I told you about?”

“The one you met when you got in trouble, and now you’re playing basketball with him?”

“That’s right. Cole. He’s a really cool dude, for a cop, and we’re actually, like, friends. But now I find out he and my mom are dating.” Frustration surged through Taylor, and he barely stopped himself from kicking the coffee table.

“Yeah, so what’s wrong with that?”

“Seriously, Nelson?” Taylor couldn’t believe Nelson didn’t automatically see the problem. “What are the chances they’ll stay together? Practically zero,” he answered himself before Nelson could say anything. “And then Mom will hate him, just like she hates my dad, and she’ll stop me from spending time with Cole, just like she’s done with my dad. Where’s that fair? He was my friend, first.” Even he could hear the pout in his voice, but he had a right to be damn mad about this.

Nelson kept quiet for a moment, then he said, “Yeah, but what if he and Joely do stay together? That’d be cool, wouldn’t it? And you’d get to hang out with Cole even more.”

Taylor gave another exasperated sigh. Before he could tell his friend what he thought about him taking Joely’s side, he heard the condo’s hall door open, signalling the arrival of his mom. No way was he sticking around to deal with her staring at him with that disappointed look on her face.

“Look, Mom’s home from work, so I gotta go. Talk to you later, okay?”

He chucked the phone onto the couch and bee-lined for his room without even glancing at his mom. If she didn’t like it, tough. She deserved the silent treatment.

~oOo~

“Poisonous Whispers”, by Jana Begovich

 

 

Released on December 5th, this is Ms. Begovic’s 2016-12-5-to-8_poisonous-whispers
début novel – a romance, but much more.
Written in a literary style, it is a saga of discovery
of true love.

In brief:
       “Don’t you ever forget about me…,” he whispers during their secret encounters. Like a curse, these simple words now haunt Leandra, a reputable psychiatrist, who finds herself in emotional chaos after the sudden breakup of her illicit affair. Unable to heal on her own and tormented by dreams in which supernatural forces create havoc with her fate, she desperately turns to David, a colleague psychiatrist, asking him to take her through past-life regression therapy. She hopes that this unorthodox and somewhat suspect technique will explain her profound connection to the lover who has abandoned her so abruptly.

The sessions take Leandra through 17th and 19th century Ireland, Italy and England, where love, loss and betrayal are the leitmotifs in an ambiance of co-mingled fantasy and reality. In her hypnotic state, Leandra recounts a saga of intoxicating love, dizzying passion, flaming lust and profound heartbreak. Despite the painful answers she finds under hypnosis, Leandra still cannot let go of the hope to reunite with her lover. Ultimately, the shattering revelations from her past-life incarnations, along with the turmoil over her ruined marriage, become the stepping stones of her introspective path to healing, self-discovery and an appreciation of true love.

With its seamlessly interwoven sub-plots, “Poisonous Whispers” lures the reader from one continent to another, from past to present. The affair at the center of the story is an anatomy of the heart in which the heroine’s sorrow-laced journey reflects the universal themes of love and loss.

The author:
jana-portrait       As far back as Jana can remember, she has been fascinated by storytelling and intoxicated with the written word. As a young child, she began spinning stories, talking to an imaginary friend and devouring fairy tales. As a teenager, she wrote maudlin love poetry; and as a young mother, a collection of fables. Her love of reading and writing drove her to study languages and literature, resulting in B.A. degrees in English and German Languages and Literature, an M.A. Degree in Literary Studies, as well as a B.Ed. Degree in English and Dramatic Arts.
She works for the Government of Canada in the field of military language training and testing and her work, as a subject matter expert, has taken her all over the world. She was born in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina but has lived in Canada since 1991, currently
in Ottawa, Ontario with her husband.
As of the time of this posting, she is working on her second novel, as well as a collection of short stories.

An excerpt:
       A tiny streak of pale light is cascading softly down the cell window and making a shy sliver in the veil of darkness. I open my eyes, disoriented. I do not move; I do not even dare blink until I get my bearings. Then I remember and freeze in horror. I sit up, an aching all over my body and cold dread in my heart. Instinctively, I try to disentangle my matted hair with my fingers, but it is hopeless. All around me, I smell mold, decay and death. How can I survive another day in this hole? The sound of the door opening with a screech makes me jump in terror.

The gaoler walks in; a heavy set of keys dangling and jingling in his hand.

“Come. You are being moved in preparation for tonight’s execution. A verdict was reached.”

I speak not but follow him. We climb a steep staircase. Below us, I hear moans and yells and what sounds like the death throes of those hopelessly lost to the world and forgotten by justice, compassion and mercy. Again, I am feeling dissociated from the event of my calamity; I see my body walking, but my soul is not in it and indifference over what might happen floods me. Death is not the end. Death offers me salvation from pain, from the torment of living a human life.

We leave the jailhouse and enter the house across the street to the village inn. The inn owner, James Bourke, looks at me with hatred and disdain. He also always hated my husband because his wife had hoped my husband would marry her. She was in love with him, and when he married me she tried to kill herself. James married her later, but has always known that she never stopped loving my husband.

The gaoler takes me upstairs to one of the guest rooms and locks the door behind me. The room is wide and clean even though sparsely furnished. The bed is large and looks inviting and I realize how exhausted I am. On the bed is a white, thin chemise and I immediately understand this is what I will wear tonight when I am pushed off the bridge into the water that is cool even on the hottest of summer days. Will I have the strength or the will to swim and save myself? What surprises and almost delights me under such grave circumstances is a bathtub in the corner of the room. There is steam rising from it and I immediately undress and slip into it, relieved to be able to wash off the dirt, the grime, and above all the horrible stench on my body. I rub myself raw trying to clean my skin. Washing my hair is more difficult because at home I have servants who help me with bathing, dressing and undressing. I have been spoilt by marrying a man of wealth and power. Where is my husband now? I crave his protection. If he saved me now, would I give up Kieran, would I give up love in order to live? I surmise I would.

Available at:
Roane Black on White

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Second Chance – Released Today!

 

second-chance_coverTeige Adams fell for the dazzling Alexandra “Zani” Fairmichael ‘way back in high school, but Zani was far too sophisticated to fall for a tall, geeky misfit like Teige.
Twenty years later, he is a successful photographer with a string of glamorous ex-girlfriends behind him, and Zani has become plain Allie Brown, the mother of demanding teenage twins.

When Teige discovers Allie has separated from her husband and is moving back to their hometown, he is determined to try for a second chance at the girl he never had.  But Allie, on the rebound from a difficult marriage, isn’t certain what (or who) she wants.

Plus, Teige’s slightly unhinged ex-fiancée and Allie’s soon-to-be-ex-husband have their own ideas about who Teige and Allie should be with.  And then there is Katie, who is certain Teige is “The One” for her.

Will Teige finally win Allie’s heart – or is it too late for a second chance?

Second Chance
A Contemporary Romance Novel
By Suzi Macdonald
Roane Black on White
{edited by Lynne, Red Penn Services}

Buy from Publisher

Or:
Print editions: CreateSpace   or   Amazon
Digital editions from
Amazon or Amazon (UK) or Barnes & Noble or SmashWords or
All Romance  or BookStrand

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