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~~~~~
Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!
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To Hold A Rancher’s Hand
Kadi James
Publication date: July 27th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Synopsis
Rafe is a volunteer fireman who is sworn to protect his ranch and town. Gail has just lost everything to the devastating fire that destroyed her home. Will these two be able to heal their scars and find new love and happiness?
After the trauma of war, rancher Rafe comes home to help his community as a volunteer fireman while trying to find balance in civilian life. He must carry the mantle of his family, who have been Guardians of Coyote Valley for generations. Now its up to Gabe to protect the town from the fires that ravage the national forests around Coyote Valley. But as he gives his all to the community, he often forgets to take care of his own heart.
Loner Gail has just lost everything to the devastating fire that destroyed her home. When the handsome rancher who saved her offers to let her stay at his place, it seems like the perfect solution. Until she remembers she doesn’t really like living with people. It’s why she was living up on top of the mountain in the first place.
Enjoy this peek inside:
“You’ve been back a couple years.” Javier sipped his coffee as he gazed pensively at his former ward. “I think you’ve got a better handle on it than you let on. But it’s alright. I’d rather you take it at your pace and maybe think about settling down.”
“Settle down?” Rafe couldn’t stifle his laughter. “With what? All I ever see are the sheep and dogs.”
“Well, you’re always pent up in this house.” Javier motioned to encompass the kitchen and the rest of Rafe’s home.
“I spend fifteen hours a day working out on the ranch.” Rafe chided, sliding his breakfast onto the plate. “I’d hardly call that pent up in the house. You know I’ve never had much luck with women.”
“It’s only because you don’t actually ask any of them out,” Javier said with a chuckle.
“I just haven’t met a woman who, well, a woman who made sense to me.” Gabriel took a big bite of his toast and egg.
“Maybe you need to rethink how you make sense to other people.” Javier stood up to wash out his coffee mug. “Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at it.”
“I’ve never even had a girlfriend,” Rafe said. “That is as awkward as they come.”
“Well, it’s hard to have a girlfriend when you’re in the military. But I was married when I was 21. You know you need a support system to get you through some of these things in life that you’re going to face.” Javier placed his cup in the drying rack.
“I can’t imagine facing worse than I have.” Rafe took another bite.
“I pray you don’t,” Javier said. “But whatever you face, a wife sure helps with that. Martha is the only reason I was able to make it through when your parents died. Here I was all of a sudden responsible for a whole ranch and a small, grieving child.”
“Well, I don’t have a child to take care of.” Rafe shrugged as he finished his breakfast.
“No. You’re going to have a hundred children to take care of as soon as these ewes start lambing.” Javier laughed and drained his coffee.
Rafe was just rinsing his plate when a loud static sound filled the air. A dispatcher’s voice called out over the radio. “Report of a half-acre in the grass, moderate rate of spread. Coyote Valley vegetation fire…Cow Mountain Road near mile post 12.38. Command 8. Tactical 2. First at scene will establish roadway IC. Stand by for check back on command 8.”
Gabriel and Javier exchanged a look. “That’s on North Ridge.” Gabriel left his plate in the sink and headed to the entry hall to grab his gear.
“All volunteers report to base,” the dispatcher continued. “Fire house 13 we have a report of a blaze starting up on Cow Mountain we need all hands to the fire department please including the volunteers we need as much help as we possibly can get. There’s a fire on Cow Mountain heading south.”
Javier squinted out the window and the trees swaying in the wind. “There are a few houses up on North Ridge. It’ll get to those first.”
“People living up there, still?” Rafe hoisted his web gear onto his shoulder and slung his boots and helmet up in his other hand.
“Yeah, I think there are about five houses up there,” Javier said, pulling out his phone and preparing a group text. “I’ll get the guys together.”
“I’ll head to the houses. It’s probably near where the fire started.” Rafe nodded to Javier who pulled the door open for him. “It’s not like there was a lightning storm going on.”
“You get what you need to get done,” Javier said. “I’ll send the boys up the mountain as soon as I can.”
“We’re going to need all the hands we can get,” Rafe threw his gear in the back of the truck and tipped his hat to Javier. “If the wind is blowing south, the fire will be headed straight to us.”
Author Kadi James
Kadi James was raised on a ranch in Northern California riding horses, writing stories, and waiting for true love to happen. Her passion for storytelling took her around the world to experience global cultures, history, and mythology, always looking for the similarities rather than the differences. After years overseas, country roads brought her back home again and she returned to California, her family, and the ranch where she grew up. Today she writes Sweet Ranch Romance that touches reader’s hearts by reminding them of the simple things that really matter in life; family, kindness, and always…love.
Website / Bookbub / Facebook / Instagram
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Carra’s memoir-writing class teaches seniors to resolve the regrets of their past. But to win over elder attorney Jay, will she follow her own advice?
Carraway (Carra) Quinn is a free-spirited English major confronting an unreceptive job market. Desperate for cash, she reluctantly agrees to her realtor stepmother’s marketing scheme: infiltrate a local senior center as a recreational aide, ingratiate herself with the members, and convince them to sell their homes.
Jay Prentiss is a straitlaced, overprotective elder attorney whose beloved but mentally fragile Nana attends that center.
More creative than mercenary, Carra convinces Jay to finance innovations to the Center’s antiquated programming. Her ingenuity injects new enthusiasm among the seniors, inspiring them to confront and reverse the regrets of their past. An unlikely romance develops.
But when Carra’s memoir-writing class prompts Jay’s Nana to skip town in search of a lost love, the two take off on a cross-country, soul-searching chase that will either deepen their relationship or tear them apart forever.
Charming, funny, and heartwarming, The Queen of Second Chances is not just a love story where two people discover each other, it is a story of self-discovery. Like all good romances, this one starts with the two main characters loathing each other before slowly realizing that they are perfect together. But before either Jay or Carra can come to that realization, they have to work through their personal shortcomings. Carra feels like a failure and is unable to get past her mother’s desertion of her as a child. Jay, while his helping people who desperately need rescuing demonstrates his fundamental goodness, puts a little too much emphasis on wealth and status. Helping a group of seniors find fulfillment is the catalyst that allows both the main characters to embrace changing their own lives and then ultimately embrace each other. A joy to read, The Queen of Second Chances is the perfect mood lifter in these stressful times.
The Queen of Second Chances by D.M. Barr is a beautifully written story of two lost souls brought together by fate. Carra was such a wonderful character, her warmth and kindness towards others were admirable. She also put others’ needs before her own safety and this was highlighted during the car scene outside the Garrison house. She was perfectly matched to Jay. Although he seemed to enjoy a materialistic lifestyle, I feel he had a really good heart and when he met Carra, he found the missing piece in his life. My absolute favorite character was Helen; she was extremely insightful and wise even though she was suffering from the onset of dementia. Her words of wisdom throughout were poignant and powerful, especially her views on looking back in life: “It’s more important to heed the present because that’s what it is, a gift. Nothing lasts long in this life, which is why every moment matters. You can’t take anything or anyone for granted.” I found the relationship between Jay and Carra developed gradually and the dialogue exchanges between them were very realistic. I loved the twist towards the end concerning Jay’s background and the nail-biting ending was brilliant. I feel there are so many underlying messages throughout too. For example, live for the moment, never be afraid to chase your dreams, and forgive yourself for mistakes you have made in your past. I highly recommend this novel.
The Queen of Second Chances by D.M. Barr is a lovely, deftly written romantic comedy that fans of the genre will love.
Genre: Contemporary Sweet Romance, Romcom, Chicklit
Published by: Champagne Book Group
Publication Date: June 7th 2021
Number of Pages: 204
ISBN: 2940165375545 (ASIN B094GFWG3K)
Purchase Links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads
Chapter One
I couldn’t take my eyes off the man. He came barreling into the recreational center at SALAD—Seniors Awaiting Lunch and Dinner, Rock Canyon’s answer to Meals on Wheels—as I sat in the outer office, awaiting my job interview. He was tall, but not too tall. His expensive suit barely concealed an athletic physique that fell just shy of a slavish devotion to muscle mass. Early thirties, I estimated, and monied. Honey-blond curly hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, chiseled features, gold-rimmed glasses, and of course, dimples. Why did there always have to be dimples? They were my kryptonite, rendering me powerless to resist.
I nicknamed him Adonis, Donny for short, lest anyone accuse me of being pretentious. He was the stuff of every girl’s dreams, especially if that girl was as masochistic as yours truly. Men like that didn’t fall for ordinary girls like me, gals more Cocoa Puff than Coco Chanel, more likely to run their pantyhose than strut the runway. I leaned back on the leather couch, laid down my half-completed application, and prepared to enjoy the view. Then he opened his mouth, and the attraction withered like a popped balloon.
“I want to speak to Judith. Now. Is she here?” The sharpness of his voice put Ginsu knives to shame. It was jagged enough to slash open memories of my mother’s own barely contained temper when refereeing sibling disputes between Nikki and me. Well, at least until she prematurely retired her whistle and skipped town for good.
The attendant working the main desk looked fresh out of nursing school and had obviously missed the lecture on dealing with difficult clients. She sputtered, held up both hands in surrender, and retreated into the administration office, reemerging with an older woman whose guff-be-gone demeanor softened as she got closer. Her name tag read, “Judith Ferester,” the woman scheduled to conduct my interview. She took one look at Donny, sighed as if to say, Here we go again, and plastered on her requisite customer service smile.
“Mr. Prentiss, to what do we owe the honor of this visit?” she asked in a tone sweet enough to make my teeth hurt.
“Judith, I thought we had this discussion before. I trust you to take care of my nana, but day after day, I discover goings-on that are utterly unacceptable. Maybe we shouldn’t have added the senior center, just limited SALAD to meal delivery. Last week you served chips and a roll at lunch? That’s too many carbs. This week, I find someone is duping her out of her pocket change. No one is going to take advantage of her good nature, not under my watch.”
I half-expected him to spit on the ground. Was such venom contagious? I didn’t want my prospective employer in a foul mood when she reviewed my application. I really, really needed this job.
“Mr. Prentiss,” Judith answered, her patronizing smile frozen in place, “I assure you that your championing of our senior center was well founded. The reason your nana isn’t complaining is that she receives the utmost care. She is one of our dearest visitors. Everyone loves her.”
“Tell me then, what is this?” Donny—scratch that, Mr. Prentiss—drew a scrap of paper from his pocket and flung it onto the counter. I leaned forward to make out the object of his disdain. Then, thinking better of it, I relaxed and watched as this melodrama played itself out.
Judith glanced down at the paper. “This? It’s a scoresheet. They play gin for ten cents a hand. We monitor everything that goes on here; your grandmother is not being conned out of her life savings. You have my word.”
Prentiss shook his head so vigorously his gold-rimmed glasses worked their way down to the tip of his perfect nose. He pushed them back with obvious annoyance. Even when he was acting like a jerk, his dimples were captivating. Would they be even more alluring if he smiled? Did he smile…like, ever?
“It’s not the amount that worries me. It’s the act itself. Many seniors here are memory impaired. How can you condone gambling between people who aren’t coherent? Could you please keep a closer eye on things? Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to take my nana—and my support—to the center I’ve heard about across the river.”
Without waiting for Judith’s response, Prentiss departed as brusquely as he’d arrived. Ah, the entitlement of the rich. Walk over everyone, then storm off. He never even noticed my presence. Just as well, considering my purpose for being there. Even if I wasn’t sorry to see the back end of his temper, his rear end was pleasant enough to watch as he exited, I noted with a guilty shudder.
Judith shook her head, rolled her eyes, and let out a huff. Then she noticed me. “I’m so sorry you had to overhear that. I’m the director here. How can I help you?”
“I’m Carraway Quinn. Everyone calls me Carra. I have an appointment for the recreational aide position.”
Judith typed a few keystrokes into the main desk’s computer. “Ah yes, Ms. Quinn. Carraway, like the seed?”
“Something like that,” I said with a smile.
They always guessed, but no one got it right. Some man would, one day. That’s what my mother said a million years ago, when she still lived within earshot. One man would figure it out, and that’s how I’d know he was the one for me. Not that it mattered right now. I had bigger problems than finding a new boyfriend.
“Tell me, would I have to deal with people like that all day?” I tilted my head in the direction of Prentiss’s contrail.
“What can I say? He loves his nana.” Judith shrugged, staring at the door. “Though I’ve never seen him lash out like that before. He’s usually so calm.” She quickly shifted into public relations mode. “Jay Prentiss is one of our biggest contributors. It’s only because of his generosity that we have this senior center and can afford to hire a recreational aide.” She beckoned me into the inner office. “Shall we proceed?”
I followed, but I had my doubts. I belonged in the editorial office of a magazine or on a book tour for my perennially unfinished novel, not at a senior center. This job was my stepmother’s idea, not mine. Calling it an idea was being generous; it was more like a scheme, and the elderly deserved better than someone sent here to deceive them. I was the embodiment of what Jay Prentiss worried about most.
The interview lasted less than ten minutes, as if Judith was going through the formalities but had already decided to hire me. I was to start my orientation the following day. I shook her hand and thanked her, all the while wishing I were anywhere else.
Afterward, I wandered into the recreation area, where I’d be spending most of my time. The room was dingy, teeming with doleful seniors watching television, playing cards, or staring off into space. A few complained among themselves about a jigsaw puzzle they were unable to finish because the last pieces were missing. I wondered how many had lost their spouses and came to the center out of loneliness, their children too busy with their own lives to visit. It was a heartbreaking thought.
Jay Prentiss was complaining about carbs and gambling when he should have been concentrating on ennui. The seniors’ dismal expressions told me they were visiting SALAD more out of desperation than opportunity. It was clear they needed an injection of enthusiasm, not some aide looking to unsettle their lives. It came down to my conscience. Could it triumph against my stepmother’s directives and my plummeting bank account?
—
Excerpt from The Queen of Second Chances by D.M. Barr. Copyright © 2021 by D.M. Barr. Reproduced with permission from D.M. Barr. All rights reserved.
By day, a mild-mannered salesperson, wife, mother, rescuer of senior shelter dogs, competitive trivia player and author groupie, happily living just north of New York City. By night, an author of sex, suspense and satire.
My background includes stints in travel marketing, travel journalism, meeting planning, public relations and real estate. I was, for a long and happy time, an award-winning magazine writer and editor. Then kids happened. And I needed to actually make money. Now they’re off doing whatever it is they do (of which I have no idea since they won’t friend me on Facebook) and I can spend my spare time weaving tales of debauchery and whatever else tickles my fancy.
The main thing to remember about my work is that I am NOT one of my characters. For example, as a real estate broker, I’ve never played Bondage Bingo in one of my empty listings or offed anyone at my local diet clinic. And I haven’t run away from home in fear that my husband was planning to off me.
But that’s not to say that I haven’t wanted to…
DMBarr.com
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Twitter – @AuthorDMBarr
Facebook – @AuthorDMBarr
Instagram – @AuthorDMBarr
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Vella, My Love
Seriously, Amazon and their Imagination Crews are fantastic. I’ve seen authors, for years, do episodic stories on their websites. Moreover, a few big name authors were doing it on various platforms where the chapters were purchased individually.
When I first started writing, and being published, it was with short stories. I was sixteen when my first short story was submitted to a writing contest. To my ultimate surprise, I took first place, along with a nice little bundle, which was set aside for college.
That put a writing ember under the seat of my pants and I began writing non-fiction articles, and fiction short reads. It was fantastic!
Back then (yes, I’m carbon dating myself), everything was written long hand and I didn’t know how to type. My parents paid someone to type the stories, articles, and edit the pieces before submitting to various publications. (Silly me. At the time, I had no idea they had to pay someone to do that.)
Along came the typing classes, and a whopping 20 words per minute.
What a wonderful surprise when I received an electric typewriter as a gift!
Terrific! I could now do 30 words per minute.
There was nothing to hold me back.
Fast-forward…
To the here and now. I’ve always found short stories, and quick reads to have a special place in my heart.
Yes, I have full-length books. Several:
Native American Time Travel
Private Investigator Time Travel
WW2 Historical Fiction
WW2 Non-fiction
I co-wrote a memoir
And etc.
Short reads and short stories went out the window many years ago when the publishing industry changed.
Now it’s coming back! Yay!
So, tell me. Do you like the idea of episodic stories?
Would you prefer stand-alone short stories and short reads?
Or, do you like a little of “all of the above”?
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Adrift
Isabel Jolie
(Haven Island)
Publication date: June 8th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
I can be your dream girl…for a price…
Ever heard of Only Fans? It’s not my ideal job, but it pays the bills.
It’s even made me somewhat of a celebrity. My subscribers love my provocative shots, and I’m oh-so-good at teasing them.
Then he shows up in my small town and complicates everything.
See, Mr. Green-Eyed Gazillionaire is so far out of my league it’s ridiculous. We’re polar opposites.
That doesn’t change the fact that even though I’m a fantasy to most men, I only want to be his reality.
But nothing real can ever happen between us. Logically, I know that.
Too bad logic and I have never had anything but a passing acquaintance.
Because now, if I’m not careful, I’m afraid this sexy billionaire will smash my poor, pathetic heart into oblivion…A delicious hot billionaire romance featuring two polar opposites adrift on a resort island with a small-town atmosphere, right of the coast of North Carolina.
This is a steamy contemporary romance with a happily ever after, no cliffhanger, and no cheating.
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play
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Enjoy this peek inside:
“Did you hang up on me?” Shock enveloped his words.
“Yeah.” Get over it.
“Don’t do that. If I say something that offends you, tell me. But don’t end the call. I had a shitty day. I called you because I was reaching out as a friend.”
“Yeah, do you ask all your friends what they’re wearing when you call them? Does Tate give you a good rundown?”
“Fine. I might…I don’t know. That was bad flirting. I got it. I won’t do it again.”
I sipped my wine, waiting for an actual apology.
“How’d your meeting with the bank go?”
My emotions shimmied around uncontrollably. “Not well. I’ve decided that on my next loan application I need to take a different approach to describe my current business.”
“What did they say about it?”
“It wasn’t a they. It was a he. And…” I trailed off, unsure about what to admit.
“Did he come on to you?” he asked. I thought I picked up on a mixture of anger and disbelief. The desire to hang up on him evaporated.
“In a totally professional way. Maybe I was reading into it.” It was probably all in my head. He really didn’t do anything wrong. Some might say he was being nice.
“Tell me what he said.”
“He said I wasn’t likely to get a loan without experience running a restaurant, but he was willing to help me work on my business plan—if I met him at a hotel bar.” I held my breath for Gabe’s reaction, curious. He could say that was normal and how things were done in the business world. In Wilmington, I’d seen business executives hovering around the bar. I’d been in the exact Holiday Inn bar he mentioned once.
Gabe muttered something I couldn’t quite pick up. “Look, the restaurant sector isn’t an area I know. But let me make some phone calls. I’ll have an industry expert consult with you.”
“That’s—”
“Poppy, this is how it’s done. You learn from those with more experience and knowledge. I could tell you something off the top of my head that needs improvement in your presentation, but my feedback won’t be as useful as an industry expert. And what the banker said, about the lack of experience, that could be a legitimate obstacle. Does the chef you are partnering with have any ownership or management experience?”
“No.” I’d fluffed his experience up. Clay was currently the line cook at Jules. But he liked healthy food. And my plan was for more of a wine bar, a place for vacationing adults to come and hang out in a relaxing atmosphere, even after dinner.
“Let me make some calls.”
“How much would a consultant cost?”
“Consider it a favor for hanging out with me and letting me crash on your sofa.”
“Gabe, I don’t want to be indebted to you. How much?”
“Won’t cost a thing. I’ll call in some favors. It’ll be an initial consultation, and you can decide how you want to take it from there.”
“Thank you.”
He sighed. “No problem.”
“Why’d you have a shit day?”
“Ah, just another day in the business world.” Shrill beeps and a robotic voice sounded through the phone. “Premise is secure.”
“Are you just getting home now?”
“Yeah. I had dinner with brokers.”
I checked the time. After ten. “You sound tired.”
“I am. I wake at four a.m. This is a late-night for me. Especially given it’s only Monday.”
“Four a.m.? That’s inhuman.”
He chuckled. I sensed he spoke while walking and talking, maybe even preparing for bed.
“I suppose I should let you go so you can get a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll have my assistant email over a consultant’s name. And, Poppy?”
“Yeah?”
“That banker was an ass. And I didn’t mean to be.”
~~~~~
Author Isabel Jolie
Isabel Jolie, or Izzy to her friends, is an Amazon bestselling indie author with an unquenchable thirst for a good, sexy love story. Izzy’s heart pumps faster for stories with strong heroines, down-to-earth realism, and an unexpected twist.
When she’s not writing or reading, she can often be found with a glass of wine in hand relaxing with her husband, daughters, and good friends lakeside.
Izzy fills her Instagram feed with funnies, inspirational “brain candy”, and anything that meshes with her mood of the day. #mood.
GIVEAWAY!
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Country in Bliss
Freda Ann
(A Bliss Cay Novella, #3)
Publication date: May 19th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
After country singer, Blaze Shore, almost cold-cocks Cali Rose with his car door, she hopes to never see the arrogant stranger again. But when she finds herself face to face with the up and coming heartthrob, the wrong kind of sparks fly.
Blaze agrees to take on the role of big brother to Angel, a boy he mentors. He wants to give the struggling kid the best summer vacation of his life. On day two in Bliss, he realizes it may be more difficult than he imagined.
Cali’s daughter, Becca, wants to hang out with the only kid staying nearby. The problem is he lives with Blaze, the man who likes nothing more than getting under Cali’s skin.
Can two kids and a dog find a way to help Blaze and Cali look beyond haunting memories of the past, as well as their first impressions of one another? Or will this summer turn into the worst one ever?
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo
99¢ on Amazon and FREE on other retailers for a limited time only!
—
EXCERPT:
With my disguise in place and feeling like I might explode, I throw the car door open—only for it to stop halfway. It must’ve hit something. I squeeze through the opening while trying to push it further as I see some blonde with large sunglasses gawking at me.
“What’s your problem?” Raising my brows, I stare back at her wondering if my disguise didn’t work. Hopefully she’ll take the hint to leave me alone because I’m not in the mood to sign autographs.
“Excuse me?” Fluttering her eyes, she shuts her mouth and raises her brows. “You’re asking me what my problem is when you’re the one who hit me with your car door? What’s your problem? You barely missed my face!” She props her hands on her hips, shaking her head.
“Why are you walking so close to my car then? You people need to give me a break.”
“You people? What the heck does that mean?”
“Duh, people like you who want something from me. Just give it a rest, okay?”
“Are you on drugs or something?” She pulls her glasses off, looking me in the eyes.
This woman is getting on my last nerve. “Don’t try to play dumb with me lady. I’m not falling for it.”
She squints at me. “Have you lost your mind, or are you rude by nature?”
“You can quit trying to be coy, I’m not interested!”
“Trust me buddy, I wouldn’t be interested in you if you were the last man on earth.” Eyeing the woman, Shane walks around to my door, in an attempt to diffuse the situation before I slam it shut.
“Unbelievable!” she yells before storming off.
Author Freda Ann:
Freda was born in southern New Jersey but grew up in Florida. She has loved writing her entire life. After retiring from a career in law enforcement, she knew it was time to fulfill her lifelong dream of being a published author.
She’s the author of The Hawaii Series, proudly named from her love of the beautiful Hawaiian Islands. It’s a three-book series with all of them written as standalone books.
Freda loves her large family, horses, dogs, cat, and close friends. She hosts monthly family dinners at her home in the country, which she shares with her husband.
She loves baking (she owned and operated a cupcake business for years), cooking, yoga, crocheting, nature and traveling with the love of her life.
What helps her write? Music makes her happy! If music doesn’t give her the right motivation, she puts on a romantic movie, usually from the Hallmark Channel, which she can’t get enough of!
Freda speaks her mind and pushes perfection to its limit. She strives to be her best, most positive self she can be in life. With time, determination, and practice, she believes anything is possible.
GIVEAWAY!
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~~~~~
Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!
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I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.
Rescue Me Me
Second Chance Ranch #2
by Catherine Mann
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Genre: Contemporary Romance
Synopsis
A rescued dog returns the favor in the latest Second Chance Romance from USA Today bestselling author of Shelter Me.
Detective AJ Parker left undercover work in Atlanta to join a small-town Tennessee police force, hoping for an easier workload and the solitude of his cabin. But the scars left by AJ’s previous work are more difficult to escape than he thought…
Mary Hannah Gallo works with the Second Chance Ranch Animal Rescue to train therapy dogs for traumatized patients. It isn’t easy, but her life is under control—until she meets the broodingly sensual AJ, who rattles her composure all the way to her toes.
After an assignment confiscating dogs from a backyard breeder reveals a dangerous drug operation, AJ must work with sexy perfectionist Mary Hannah to train an abused rescue dog—a dog now named Holly. While Holly proves to these two very different people that opposites can, in fact, attract, she also knows more than a few explosive secrets that could heal—or divide—the entire town.
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I added this back on February 2015.
I have the first bookin this series also and they sound delightful!
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Murder Mittens
R.J. Blain
(Magical Romantic Comedies, #13)
Publication date: December 25th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Synopsis
Becoming a bounty hunter and taking on the call sign of Murder Mittens wasn’t Harri’s brightest move, but what’s a lynx to do with millions of debt while working a customer service gig? The scars deforming her face won’t remove themselves, and she’ll bag and tag every criminal in the United States to get rid of them if necessary.
Being assigned a handler could make or break her, but did the powers that be really have to toss Sebastian Sumners her way? The lion with a stubborn streak as wide as hers tests her patience on a good day, but nothing makes her purr more than goading him into roaring.
Add in a protective family, a serial killer on the loose, and more trouble than any one cat needs, and it’s going to take a miracle for Harri to get through the most important job of her life.
Warning: contains magic, humor, cranky shapeshifters, cats, murder, and mayhem. Proceed with caution.
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Enjoy this glimpse inside:
Chapter One
Why was murdering irate, irrational, ignorant, and flat-out wrong customers illegal? The idiot on the phone rambled about how it wasn’t fair that dumping coffee on his router invalidated his warranty.
I thought it wasn’t fair his stupidity might lose me IQ points, and I’d learned long ago that humans—or lycanthropes, such as myself—didn’t come with warranties or guarantees. I had bills to pay, and murdering one of the customers wouldn’t pay my bills.
Then again, in prison, I wouldn’t have to pay any bills. Every day by the end of my shift, I considered incarceration as a viable option.
Free board, free food, good medical care, and asshole inmates to beat on sounded a lot better than dealing with an idiot customer.
“Sir,” I said in the hopes of circumventing his tirade. Mr. Edward Lavell ignored me.
The idiots always ignored me. I bet my gender had something to do with it. On average, the men finished their calls five minutes faster, and every supervisor to review the situation came to the same general conclusion: customers took men in tech more seriously than women, and I, unfortunately, sounded too feminine.
“Sir,” I repeated, only to be ignored again.
Why couldn’t I just hang up on him? Oh, right. I valued my job. As I valued my job, I couldn’t hang up on him, I couldn’t curse, I couldn’t threaten to rip his throat out, and I couldn’t indulge in my desire to murder him.
There was a time and a place for murder, and on the job at a call center for a cable internet company was not the time nor the place.
For the fourth time since calling in, Mr. Lavell explained that it really wasn’t his fault he’d dumped coffee on his router.
“Sir, liquid spills are right in the contract for the router. I’m sorry, but I can’t change the rules for you. Spilling coffee on your router invalidates its warranty.”
“It’s not my fault the cup holder in my computer has a mind of its own,” he complained.
Wait. What?
His computer’s cup holder has a mind of its own? The realization I dealt with someone far worse than just an idiot sank in. Every call center had legends of Code Red customers, who were in an entirely different class from the standard 1-D10T and the unfortunately common PEBKAC. With Mr. Lavell, I had it all. A problem certainly did exist between the keyboard and chair, and he’d definitely deserved his flag as an 1-D10T.
Until his call, I had remained safe from the evils of a Code Red customer.
By the time I got off the phone with him, I’d need some alcohol and someone to kill.
It’d be easier to find someone to kill than the alcohol; me and booze just didn’t mix, and I’d been banned out of every damned bar in town to keep the peace.
Maybe I could whip on some makeup, grab a gray wig, and pass for a little old lady. With my face covered in burn scars, it wouldn’t take much to pull off some makeup artistry and transform myself into an older woman rather than a mutilated one. I could become a conventional beauty given an hour and the right products. An old lady wasn’t an impossibility.
Alternatively, I could shift, pay my family a visit, and steal a bottle of liquor from one of the cabinets. With the number of lynxes running around the place, they might not even notice me before I made off with my alcoholic prize.
As sighing was not acceptable when dealing with paying customers, I took a moment to steel my nerves before saying, “Sir, computers do not include cup holders.”
That caught his attention. “What?”
“Sir, computers do not include cup holders,” I repeated, already dreading the moment I would have to explain what a CD was, how they were used, and what the player’s actual purpose was. Few systems still had any disc drives at all, as most companies had moved to online downloads of their programs and games.
The next few minutes of my life would not be fun, and I typed a message to my supervisor warning him I had a major 1-D10T on my hands, a possible Code Red situation, and to make sure he was aware I faced the demise of some IQ points, I notified him the customer had opted to use his disc drive as a coffee cup holder.
“What the hell is this thing for, then?”
“CDs, sir.” I closed my eyes and waited for the meltdown.
“First, you claim I invalidated my warranty, and now you’re telling me my cup holder plays music?”
“As this is an internet company, sir, I can’t help you with your CD player. However, it is not a cup holder, nor should it be used as one. As for your router, you owe $35.79 on the device. Once you finish paying for the damaged equipment, I can schedule a tech to come to your home and install your new router. Since you’ve been a customer for so long, I can waive the fifty dollar installation fee. Your monthly bill will not change if you opt to pay off the damaged equipment and start a new rental.”
If he gave me a hard time, I’d take my time and give him all of his options. None of them would be as good as my initial offer. I cracked open an eye and checked my messages with my boss.
He wished me the best of luck and promised to send flowers to my funeral. He also begged me not to tell my brothers about the menace wasting my time. If any one of my forty-seven brothers found out I dealt with customers screaming at me five days a week, they’d go on a rampage.
That my boss knew my family drove me crazy on a good day.
I figured my idiot family had gone on a hunt to meet my boss, and because we were all infected with lycanthropy, my boss wouldn’t have thought twice about their behavior.
Lycanthropes had a reputation.
Most days, it wasn’t a good one.
Only an idiot would piss off a bunch of male lycanthropes out to protect their precious little sister. Unfortunately for me, I counted as an endangered species, as the odds of a lycanthrope having daughters in the first place fell somewhere in around ten thousand to one.
I needed to notify my mother she needed to have more daughters. While she was at it, she needed to give me a new name, because nobody ever believed Harri was a woman’s name. I figured she’d meant to name me Harry because she’d expected yet another boy, swapping out the ‘y’ for an ‘i’ to make things easier on her.
When on the job, I went by Christine because Christine seemed gloriously feminine and nobody on the team used their real names. Technically, I was supposed to change my name every day, but I went by Christine for all new callers, and I only rotated through when I knew I was dealing with someone who gave me issues.
My method worked well enough, so my boss didn’t complain.
While Mr. Lavell spluttered and began the tedious process of mulling over his options, I began making plans for after work—assuming I escaped from my job without succumbing to the temptation of informing the customer he was most definitely wrong, he needed to go back to school to join the modern world, and it wouldn’t hurt if he learned to be civil.
I had to explain his options four times before he finally conceded he should stick with his old plan, pay for the damaged router, and move on with life. It took an extra ten minutes of listening to him whine before he finally hung up.
Above all, I hated the rule that we were not supposed to hang up on clients. It wasted time. Had I been allowed to just hang up, I would have wished him a good day, disconnected the call, and began the tedious process of adding notes to his file so the next customer service representatives stuck with him knew they had trouble on their hands.
My phone rang, but instead of a customer, my phone reported my boss wanted to speak with me. With slumped shoulders, I accepted his call and answered, “Sir?”
“I listened in on your Code Red.”
I hated when my boss actively monitored my calls; thanks to how the system worked, he could listen in on me at any time. But, a job was a job, and with my scarred face, finding a job became troublesome at best—and nobody in the call center knew or cared what I looked like. Oh, well. Before I jumped to conclusions, I’d ask. “What’s my grade, sir?”
“You did fine. You stayed professional, you didn’t come across as too condescending, and frankly, there’s no sane tech on this planet stays totally cool a Code Red. It could have been much worse.”
I checked the clock, breathing a sigh of relief that I’d hit the end of my shift and wouldn’t have to take any more calls. “What do you need?”
“I had a question about your schedule. You’re off for the next week, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” I had plans, and they involved the International Most Wanted List along with every legal bounty list I had managed to get my hands on in the past month. If my boss tried to put an end to my hard-earned vacation, I’d finally do what I should have done months ago, snap, and quit.
I wanted him to cross my last line so badly.
“Ted wants an extra shift. How would you feel about an unpaid day added to your vacation? I’ve already gotten approval if you’d like to claim the unpaid day.”
Score. I’d bid for time off almost a year ago, but sick days were the bare minimum the state allowed, which accounted to five for the entire year. An extra day tacked onto my vacation might let me bag an extra bounty.
Any day I bagged an extra bounty was a good day in my opinion.
“I can take an unpaid day, sir. That’s fine. Can you send me an email confirming the unpaid day off?”
“It’ll be in your inbox within the next ten minutes, and I’ll CC human resources notifying them you’re excused for that day.”
“Okay. Will the rest of my schedule remain the same once I’m back from vacation?”
“Yes. Ted just asked for extra hours, and the others with seniority declined the day off.”
I bet; on our income, every hour mattered. Most who worked for the call center had seen better days. I lived like I’d seen better days and I looked like I’d seen better days, but appearances lied. I only worked at the call center to maintain appearances. Thanks to depression in my teens and therapy that hadn’t gone like my parents had wanted, my entire family demanded I check in at least three times a week to ensure I remained human.
They believed if they took their eyes off me, I might shift into a lynx and never come back.
Two years ago, they wouldn’t have been wrong, but I’d found a new purpose in life. Not a single one of my brothers would approve, my mother would have yet another litter of kittens, and my father would be so disappointed.
Personally, I thought it was obvious. I worked in customer service. I was a prime candidate to become a murderous asshole. I did so legally, on behalf of the government and other legal entities, and I did so for a filthy amount of money.
Smiling stretched my scars, but I did it anyway. “If anyone needs any extra hours, I can afford another day or two off,” I offered. “I can take up to a week unpaid. I’ve been saving up to take some time off if any opportunities allowed.”
It would delay paying for the expensive procedure required to piece my face back together and remove the evidence of the fire that’d almost killed me as a child. It took a lot of magic to convince the lycanthropy virus I wasn’t supposed to be a scarred wreck.
A lot of magic cost a lot of money, and I figured I might have the three million dollars within five years if I landed a bounty every weekend and took on some of the more dangerous jobs. While I waited for my boss to mull over my offer, I considered the various jobs on offer.
I liked hunting other lycanthropes. Unmated males were easy catches, and the fugitives usually brought in a pretty penny. The last one I’d bagged as a live capture had added fifty thousand to my bank account.
Then again, if I landed an entire extra week, I’d make up the lost hours with a single small bounty, and anything else would be extra cash in my savings account.
My boss grunted, signaling he’d come to a decision. “I’ll keep that in mind and pitch the offer. I’ll email your personal and work addresses if there are any takers plus text your phone.”
“Thanks, sir. Have a good evening.”
“You, too.”
He hung up, and before something could go wrong, I clocked out, filed my paperwork for my final call, and logged out of the system so I couldn’t be sucked back into doing even more work.
If all went well, I’d be a hundred grand richer by the end of the week and that much closer to being able to look in the mirror without wincing.
Author R.J. Blain:
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.
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