Saturday, March 17, 2018

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

In my Silver Town Wolf series, some of the Silver brothers/cousins, have married two of the triplet Irish sisters who run the Silver Town Hotel. I'll be writing the third's ones story for release next year.

Several of my ancestors were born and raised in Ireland. So my hat's off to you on St. Patrick's Day!
Corned beef, potatoes, carrots and cabbage are on the menu!

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”
Connect with Terry Spear:
Wilde & Woolly Bears:
Newsletter Sign Up:
Follow Me for new releases and book deals:
signature line email Seal Wolf Undercover, Cougar Undercover, Dreaming of a White Wolf Christmas, My Highlander 300 x120

Monday, March 12, 2018

5 Ways Writing A Book Is Just Like Having Kids! — By Alyson McLayne

My five-year-old daughter had a major meltdown on the way to school this morning. We were walking fast because we were running late, and I’d been encouraging her and her brother to gallop their “horses” to each corner and wait for me to catch up. This worked well until we were a block or so away from school. Suddenly she was tired and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Carry me,” she said.

“No,” I said. “We’re almost there.”

Not to be ignored, she laid down on the sidewalk and cried while I persuaded, cajoled, and counted to three—several times—to get her moving again.

Ten minutes later, I finally got her off the ground and into class. As I was walking home, all I could think about was how I should have handled the situation differently. Being pushed for time, I tried to force her to keep moving rather than stopping, picking her up for a hug—on her schedule, not mine—and encouraging her to keep walking, staying open to her needs.

Which made me think, isn’t that just like writing a book! And a new blog topic was born…

5 Ways Writing A Book Is Like Having Kids!!

1.  Sometimes when you write, the words just aren’t flowing, and you end up forcing them because you have a deadline to meet. But often the best thing to do is take a break and let the story breathe. See what ideas rise to the surface. Then go forward gently, staying open to the organic needs of the story. Which is what happened with me and my daughter. When I tried to force her to keep moving and failed to address her underlying needs, she dug in her heels and refused to take another step!

2.  In a similar vein, the characters you create can be just like kids, they’re demanding, unreasonable, and never want to go where you want them to go in a timely manner! They have minds of their own and can say and do things that make you want to scream.

3.   One of the biggest frustrations about writing can be a diminishing word count. You spend all morning writing a scene and then delete the whole thing that afternoon because it’s just not right. Which is kind of like cleaning the house when you have kids—you spend hours cleaning only to have them come along behind you and mess it all up again, leaving you right back where you started.

4.     In romance novels, the hero and heroine are like toddlers—they have trouble keeping their clothes on and have lots of sleepless nights! (Thanks to my friend and fellow author Kari Cole for this one!!).

5.     Lastly, when your book is finally done, and it’s time to release it into the world, it can be hard to let go. You want to save it from criticism by people who see things differently from you. But in the end, you have to pry your fingers free and hit ‘send’ even if you’re afraid. If you’ve done your job right, as an author and as a parent, your book and baby will not only survive, but thrive.

I hope you had as much fun reading this list as I had writing it. If you think of other ways writing a book is just like having kids, please let me know!!

* * *

Alyson McLayne writes historical romance set in the Highlands of Scotland. Highland Conquest, Book 2 in her series, The Sons Of Gregor MacLeod, is out now!

He was looking for vengeange…

Laird Lachlan MacKay never planned on leading his clan, but when his older brother was murdered, he was left with no choice. His vow to avenge his brother has led him to the MacPherson clan—and their bewitching healer, Amber.

Instead, he found her

Amber MacPherson is desperate. Dressed as a boy to escape her clan's treacherous leader, she runs right into Lachlan—who orders her detained. At first she causes him nothing but frustration, especially when she blackmails him into helping her clan. But when she’s threatened by the same man who murdered his brother, Lachlan will do whatever it takes to keep her safe—and by his side.

Snag your copy today!


Alyson McLayne is a mom of twins and an award-winning writer of contemporary, historical, and paranormal romance. She’s also a dog lover and cat servant with a serious stash of dark chocolate. After getting her degree in theater at the University of Alberta, she promptly moved to the West Coast of Canada where she worked in film for several years and met her Prop Master husband.

She and her family reside in Vancouver with their sweet but troublesome chocolate lab puppy named Jasper.

Please catch up with Alyson on social media. She loves chatting with her readers! 

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Free From Sourcbooks!

✦FREE ➢ The Rogue Pirate's Bride (Sons of the Revolution... by Shana Galen
✦FREE ➢ A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing (SEAL Wolf Book 1) by Terry Spear
✦FREE ➢ Just in Time for a Highlander (Sirens of the Sco... by Gwyn Cready, Author

These ebooks are free on all bookseller sites!

Have a super day!


Friday, March 9, 2018

New Release: Every Deep Desire by Sharon Wray

Every Deep Desire, the first book in the new Deadly Force romantic suspense series, debuted this week! This story of Rafe Montfort and his wife Juliet Capel is a contemporary retelling of Romeo and Juliet that takes place in Savannah, GA. 

Rafe and Juliet were married young until Rafe abandoned Juliet and deserted his Green Beret unit to work for a secretive army known as the Fianna. Now, eight years later, he’s been released from prison and needs to win Juliet’s trust if he’s to save everyone he loves. He knows she’ll never forgive him—or love him again—but he’ll do everything in his power to protect her. 

After eight years away, Rafe returns and Juliet learns that Rafe went AWOL and abandoned her to work for the Fianna—a mysterious group of assassins who trace their lineage back to pagan Ireland. Now, one of Rafe’s old enemies wants something hidden on Juliet’s land or people will die. 

Except Rafe has been gone a long time and Juliet, who’s rebuilt her life, has no interest in having her heart broken again. No matter that he’s returned a fully-grown, sexy man who still loves her. What she doesn’t realize is that if she helps him, and if they succeed, they won’t just save those they love—they’ll be separated forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~  EXCERPT ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Juliet’s daddy had always told her to stay away from men who bowed. But tonight, as she struggled with her groceries in the snow, she almost asked the stranger in the shadows across the street for help. He bowed as she walked by and, as creepy as that seemed, she was reconsidering her daddy’s warning. It was still Valentine’s Day, after all.

She blinked against the freezing wind, and the man had disappeared. She made it to her apartment and almost stepped on the ivory envelope. Balancing her bags in one arm, she picked it up. From its weight and polished paper, a letter instead of a bill.

A valentine, maybe? From Rafe? 

Flurries blew as she unlocked the door. Five months apart. Five months since their argument. Five months and he’d finally sent her an apology. The ache in her heart loosened, and she went inside. Frigid, mildew-tinged air blasted at her, and her breath came out in cold, white gusts. The heat was off. Again.

She placed the bags on the kitchen counter and turned the envelope over. The linen stationery felt thick and expensive. Someone had sealed it with a wax stamp of a sword piercing a heart and written her name in script on the other side. It wasn’t Rafe’s familiar, irregular printing. 

After trading her coat for her favorite sweater, she curled up on the couch. Her husband was undercover with his A-team. Had someone else sent the letter on his behalf? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d broken the rules. Still, five months wasn’t the longest they’d gone without contact. Last year he’d been away for eight. Except this goodbye had been different. They’d argued, said things she prayed they hadn’t meant, and hadn’t made love before he left.

Something that had never happened before.

She held the letter to her heart and looked at the unpacked boxes stacked around her. Rafe had left the week they’d moved from Fort Bragg’s temporary housing into this apartment, days after his mother’s funeral, and she’d refused to unpack completely. Without him, it didn’t feel like home. Worry and lack of sleep had left her exhausted. Nightmares plagued her nights. Dreams she’d had since childhood that only Rafe’s touch could heal. 

For the past few weeks, she’d been obsessed with a heavy feeling in her heart she could only define as doom. She broke the seal and read. The back of her throat burned. Her sweaty hands gripped the edges of the stationery, tearing it. And she read the letter again. It wasn’t a valentine. No. No. No.

She fell off the couch and crawled to the bathroom. She barely made it before the eruption hit. Minutes later, she rinsed her mouth and leaned her forehead against the window. The room smelled like vomit, bleach, and mold. It reeked of betrayal.

Outside, the moon hung full, like on the night he’d left. Another wave of nausea drove her to her knees. She rolled into a ball, her arms tucked in close. He wasn’t dead. He just wasn’t coming home. Ever.

The doorbell rang, and she ignored it. She lay there for minutes or hours or days. When even the moon turned in, she shifted onto her back and stared at the stained ceiling. The brown concentric circles reminded her of constellations. The star patterns she and Rafe identified together out on the Isle when they were kids. “Pegasus.” 

She raised one arm to reach the sky. The winged horse constellation had been her favorite, only visible a few weeks of every year. She’d always dreamed of flying away from the Isle, her father, her poverty. But instead of reaching the stars, she’d married the man she’d adored since she was four and he was eight.

When the doorbell rang again and again and again, she got up, determined to send whoever the hell it was away. She flung the door open to find two Army MPs in full uniform, wearing pistols, standing side by side. Their grim faces shared identical hard angles. Cold air burst into the room, chilling her even more.

“Mrs. Montfort?” the first MP asked.


“Ma’am.” The second MP held out a pair of handcuffs. “You’ll need to come with us.”


Sharon is a librarian who once studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and now writes about the men in her Deadly Force romantic suspense series where ex-Green Berets and their smart, sexy heroines retell Shakespeare's greatest love stories.

Sharon loves to interact on her website as well as on most social media platforms! 

Thursday, March 8, 2018

An interview with info on my new release and beyond!

      I admit it. This is a slightly paraphrased interview from last summer with Ludvica. The info is still current, so why not use it?  Book 1 in the Phoenix Brothers series was just released Tuesday! 

1.      How did you come up with the idea for this series?
Oh, boy. I don’t know. I’ll just blame it on my muse, Thalia—the muse of comedy!
2.     Fans of your series comment on how “sweet/sexy and funny” the books are. How important is the comedy element in this series?

Comedy is extremely important to me. Writing is hard work, and in my humble opinion, entertaining myself is essential to enjoying the process. What is it they say? If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life?

Readers can tell when your heart is in it and when it’s not. If I’m making myself chuckle, the readers will get a smile out of it too. I get fan mail saying, ‘I love your books. They’re a great escape...or, they helped me through a hard time.’ That’s how i got hooked on romance and when I know I’ve paid it forward, What an honor and privilege! 

3.    Any other books planned?
If I can ever find the time! I’m under contract for 2 more novels—and I promised a Kindle Worlds story to a fellow paranormal romantic comedy author--Robyn Peterman Zahn! 
(Wonder B*tch, in her Magic and mayhem world comes out in June, 2018) And then there are two more series ideas burning a hole in my brain. One is a whole new genre for me, under a new pen name--Liz Lorow. (I don't want Young Adult readers to find my hot adult books! A new pen name is the equivalent of hiding the other books under the bed. LOL) Everything from the ground up has to be redone. So far, I have a name and logo. So many ideas, so little writing time.
      What are you working on now?

The Phoenix Brothers series. Some of the brothers are already included in the Boston Dragons series. Seven brothers. All phoenix shapeshifters. And all but one are firefighters. If the worst happens, they can rise from the ashes. Yup, the legend is real, folks!

And...I'm organizing the next Fall in Love with New England romance reader/author conference! It's not until 2019, but we're already gearing up for another great time!  

Bonus Question:  What would you do if you were not a romance writer?

I’d probably sell real estate, or stage houses. I was trained in Interior Design and my guilty pleasure is HGTV… Oh, by the way, romance novels are not my guilty pleasure. I don’t feel guilty at all for enjoying my life!

J Thanks for the interview! It was fun and I appreciate the chance to reach more readers.

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

New Release from Shana Galen

--> No Earls Allowed is now for sale! Check out an excerpt.
Lady Juliana, only remaining daughter of the Earl St. Maur, could have screamed. She’d had a more abominable morning than usual, and that was saying something.
First, she’d been called away from the Duke of Devonshire’s ball by the appearance of Robbie, one of the orphans from the Sunnybrooke Home for Boys. He’d told her she must come immediately. There was an emergency at the orphanage, and she’d made her excuses and run out, much to her father’s annoyance. It probably hadn’t helped matters that she’d taken the family coach.
Then she’d arrived at the orphanage just as the sun was rising to find that her cook was packing her bags to leave. Julia had known it would happen sooner or later; she’d simply hoped it would be later. Mrs. Nesbit had been complaining for months about the state of the kitchens, claiming she could hardly be expected to work in such conditions. Julia had agreed. The ovens smoked, the roof leaked, and the boys had stolen all the decent knives. Lately, Mrs. Nesbit had also complained the staples she stocked had been steadily disappearing as well—flour, cornmeal, potatoes, and garlic. Julia wondered if perhaps Mrs. Nesbit was cheating her and selling the stock on the sides, but she had no proof and couldn’t afford to lose the cook. She’d begged Mrs. Nesbit to give her more time to ask the orphanage’s board for money and make the repairs.
She’d thought she’d succeeded at persuading the woman, until, of course, the boys had thought it amusing to loose three tame rats in the kitchen as Mrs. Nesbit prepared breakfast. When Charlie had shown her the rats again, just to prove they were harmless, the poor cook had shrieked loud enough to wake the dead—or at least the dead tired, as Juliana thought of herself—and resigned effective immediately.
Which meant Julia had to cook the boys breakfast. One could not simply allow a dozen boys to go hungry, and she did not have the funds to buy them all pies from the hawkers’ carts. Not when each boy ate as much as a horse.
And so, Julia had calmly collected the rats, placed them back in their straw-lined box with a bit of bread for their breakfast, and in her jewels and dancing slippers, heated oats in a large pot she could barely move. She tried not to feel sorry for herself. Even as she rolled and kneaded bread until her arms ached, she pushed memories of walks in the promenade and ices at Gunters aside. And when her once lovely copper ball gown was covered in flour and sticky pieces of dough, Juliana did not allow her thoughts to stray to all the lovely balls where she had worn the gown and danced with countless handsome and charming gentlemen.
Or at least she didn’t allow her thoughts to stray much.
But no sooner had she placed the bread in the oven than Mr. Goring, her manservant, had knocked on the open door and informed her Mr. Slag was waiting for her in the parlor.
Julia had stared at the servant as though the man had gone mad. Sticky white hands on her hips, she’d glowered at Mr. Goring until he’d lowered his eyes. “Why on earth did you seat Mr. Slag in the parlor?” She also wanted to ask where he had been when the boys he was supposed to be watching in her absence were foisting rats on the cook, but she couldn’t afford to lose Mr. Goring too.
“There ain’t nowhere else except the dining room, and the lads is in there making a racket about wantin’ their vittles.”
Julia had heard and ignored the noise. If the boys had wanted to be fed in good time, they shouldn’t have taunted the cook with the rats. “What I meant, Mr. Goring,” she clarified, though she knew he’d understood her perfectly, “is why did you admit Mr. Slag? I told you never to admit him. Not under any circumstances.”
Goring scratched the sparse hair at the crown of his forehead. “Did you want me to close the door on him?”
“No.” She spoke slowly and deliberately, as she often spoke to Charlie, who was four. “I wanted you to say what I told you to say.”
“But, my lady, you are home.”
“Not to him!” Defeated, she removed the apron that was supposed to protect her ball gown and tossed it on the worktable. She’d deal with Mr. Slag then serve breakfast. Before leaving the kitchen, she closed the box with Matthew, Mark, and Luke and perched it under one arm. She did not want to risk the rodents escaping into the kitchen and causing more mayhem.
With a last look of annoyance at Goring, she marched toward the parlor, passing the dining room as she did so. She studiously avoided turning her head to look in. The boys were stomping their feet on the floor and banging their plates on the table. They needed a lecture, and she had no time at present to give it.
She wanted to be angry at Mr. Goring for admitting Slag, but she supposed Goring was as frightened of Mr. Slag as everyone else in Spitalfields. The crime lord ran the rookery, and his methods for dealing with those who displeased him were rather…harsh.
Julia was frightened of him as well, but she was able to mask her fear better than most. After all, she’d met other imposing figures—the King, the Queen, Wellington, and Brummell—to name a few. If she hadn’t flinched when Brummell had scrutinized her dress with his quizzing glass, she would not flinch when confronted by Mr. Slag. And truth be told, until recently, he’d been no more than a minor irritation. But as she’d been forced to spend more time at the orphanage and less at her father’s home in Mayfair, Mr. Slag had been harder to push to the back of her mind.
She opened the door to the parlor, and Slag rose immediately. He was a robust man and not very tall, only a few inches taller than she. He had mentioned on several occasions that he had been reared in a foundling house. She knew how cruel and heartless such institutions could be, which was one reason she was here and trying to improve the lives of the orphans under her care. But Joseph Slag had obviously found no such protector. He might have been a handsome man if not for the ravages of his brutal youth. His crooked nose, the deep lines around his eyes and mouth, and his cold hard eyes were testament to the harsh life he’d led. Even dressed in fine linen and well-tailored clothing, he wore his low station like a permanent mantle. Joseph Slag was known to always carry an ebony walking stick with a golden handle in the image of a flame. The rumor was that he’d beaten more than one man to death with the stick.
Julia glanced at the stick now, leaning against the armchair Slag had occupied, and tried not to shudder. She pasted on a bright smile. “Mr. Slag, how lovely to see you this morning.” She set the box of rats on the table just inside the room and curtsied prettily. Her mother would have been proud.
Slag bowed with some style of his own. “Lady Juliana, how kind of you to take time from your busy morning to see me.”
He hadn’t given her much choice, but she merely smiled and took the seat across from the one he’d occupied. “I’m afraid I am not at leisure to chat this morning, sir. My cook has given her notice, and as you no doubt can hear, I have hungry boys to feed.”
“Ah. No wonder you look”—his eyes traveled down her dress, lingering a bit too long on her breasts, all but on display in the ball gown—“out of sorts. May I be of some assistance?”
“Do you cook?” she asked.
He gave her a look of appalled shock.
“Then I’m afraid not.”
“What I meant, my lady, is that maybe I could find you a new cook. I’m well connected, I am. Maybe I’ll hire a maid for you too.” He didn’t look at the dust covering the table near him, but Julia knew he’d seen it nevertheless.
“I thank you kindly, Mr. Slag, but I have a maid”—though she only came once a week—“and I already have another cook in mind.” This was a blatant lie, but she knew that without a doubt it would be a mistake to put herself in Mr. Slag’s debt. She’d made that mistake once before, and she would not repeat it.

Buy This Book:
Indie Bound:
Google Play:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady can do anything a man can do: backwards and in high-heeled dancing slippers.

Lady Juliana, daughter of the Earl of St. Maur, needs all the help she can get. She's running a ramshackle orphanage, London's worst slumlord has illicit designs on her, and her father has suddenly become determined to marry her off. 

Enter Major Neil Wraxall, bastard son of the Marquess of Kensington, sent to assist Lady Juliana in any way he can. Lucky for her, he's handy with repairs, knows how to keep her and the orphans safe, and is a natural leader of men. 

Unfortunately for both of them, the scandal that ensues from their mutual attraction is going to lead them a merry dance...