One Month Away! Book Launch and Deals

Ya’ll, I haven’t been so excited about a book coming out since…well ever. I started this book a couple of years ago at a writing conference. It was a rare and beautiful madness, where the characters would regularly interrupt me on my morning commute to the kids’ camps, my Peloton rides, my hikes, in line at the grocery store, with little snippets of their life. Like I was a radio that would pass by their frequencies and catch conversations. Notes were drawn up on my phone, scraps of paper and notebooks. Eventually landing on my screen. Only I didn’t write it as one novel. This book started out as two separate novels, one from each perspective that I then had to go back and merge into the finished project. It was messy and strange, (and an absolute headache for my editor I’m sure) but through it all, I’ve never gotten to know two characters more intimately.

It’s safe to say, I’m in love with them both. I need a Charlie in my life. I think we all do. I think we all need a Meg too. Someone to remind us what’s worth living for. To kick us in the pants when we feel too sorry for ourselves. To be in our corner, no matter what.

So, I hope that you’ll preorder it. Preordered sales count in the total number and it can really help an author to be seen in some of the bigger markets. Its not so much me that wants to be seen. It’s Charlie and Meg. I want the world to know them. So pre-order if you can! But if you want a little something more, I’m running a special book package for No Words.

If you chose to buy the book this way, you’ll be sent a signed copy of the book and some goodies, hand selected by me. The price will include the shipping cost. More details will be released in a couple of weeks, but if you’re interested now (I like to start making my list) shoot me an email (with the subject line No Words Special) or DM me on my socials.

I will also be crowing about the book launch and book signings that are currently getting hashed out, so please stay tuned for those and if you’re in the area, stop on by! I’d love to talk books and writing with you, and sign some copies. Dates and places to be announced soon.

Here’s a little excerpt:

Charlie asks me to meet for coffee the morning after Bradley’s departure. I, of course, comply. Coffee with Charlie always breaks me out of my mood. If there’s anyone crabbier at the world than me, it’s him. Plus, I love to hear him talk. About anything and nothing. I love the way he sits back and listens, discerning brows pulled together, as though he’s contemplating my words. As if I matter. I’m curious as to why he asked me and didn’t mention Gina coming along. Her birthday is coming up soon, and I’m sure Charlie, in his old-school romantic way, has devised a plan he needs help with.
What a man to find, I think as I put on my worn red boots to navigate the slush-deep sidewalks. It’s ten blocks but I don’t have enough for fare today. When I arrive, Charlie is there, already seated, readers on and mouthing answers to the crossword. I watch his lips count through the window. The spaces, the letters, making it all fit. He looks up, a graying curl on his forehead. He waves me in.
He looks pale. Paler than I’ve seen him in a long while and his bright blue eyes pop against his skin. His mouth is downturned, like he doesn’t want to talk first. He rarely does.
“Hey!” I puff out and the breath feels hot on my cheeks.
“Did you walk all the way?” he scowls.
“It’s a lovely fall day.”
“It’s twenty degrees out, Meg.”
I shrug and take off my coat, I settle in, nod for coffee and don’t allow even a moment before I dive into the dramatic end scene of Bradley. Charlie remains a statue as I recount the far-too familiar episode.
“And that’s how I ended up with all the rent and none of the sex.”
Charlie’s scowl deepens. “Well, thank God. The guy was a grade-A moron.”
“He got into Cats.” I say over the menu.
Charlie rolls his bright eyes over his readers and levels them on me.
“He couldn’t get into a bag of chips with scissors. The man was a talentless hack and you shouldn’t have paid his rent as long as you did.”
“You’re just saying that to be sweet.” I sip my coffee and looked out over the busy city street outside. The cloudy morning spits gray flakes against people’s faces as they walk by. I set aside the menu. I can’t afford toast, let alone breakfast.
“When have you ever known me to be sweet? Go to hell.” Charlie studies his puzzle again. I watch him from across the table. I love looking at Charlie. His wild and curly hair, unkempt and disrespectful. His face a map of a million laughs, handsome but in total, unrefined.
“Thanks,” I whisper. For the moment of stability, for reaffirming my faith in men. He reaches out, without looking up from his puzzle, and places his warm hand over mine with a squeeze.
“How is Gina?”
Charlie pauses, and with him, my heart. He never pauses when talking about Gina, he’s over the moon in love with her. There is always some news, some show, some smash hit that she’s working on mastering, filling up their brownstone with repeated notes and lines, and the sparkle that is Gina. There is no pause to a life so full. Charlie clears his throat.
“It’s back.”
The words are like a double hit to my chest. I don’t have to ask what ‘it’ is. It’s only be five years since it took root in her the first time. Now it takes root in me, with the kind of despair that steals words.
“Charlie, no.”
“Yes… It’s bad, Meg.”
I ache with anger. I want to throw my fist into something, but I’m stupid and weepy instead, so I take his warm hand in mine.
“What can I do?”
“Be here,” he says.
I sniff and look up to staunch the deluge. My crying doesn’t help any of us, and he certainly doesn’t need to feel worse for my tears.
“Ok. How is she?”
“Tired,” he shakes his head, tucking the paper beneath his plate. I watch him take off the readers and rub his eyes. “This time is already worse.”
I’m at a loss. What the hell do you say to that? I’m a fuck up, not a doctor. I have nothing to give him, even after they’ve given me so much. My heart aches and I’m desperate to do something.

Courting the Lion: An Excerpt and Call for Thoughts

Gentle Readers:

I’m so in love with my new couple and I’m beginning edits on their story. I just wanted to share this scene with you. I hope you enjoy. And while I appreciate any feedback, keep in mind that I do not debate religious or ‘moral’ issues, with trolls on line.

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Thomas sat opposite of him and put his hands between his knees. Richard took his books from the satchel, donned his glasses and began to read.

“Are we not going to discuss the matter?”

“Are you going to discuss, or are you going to yell at me?” Richard said, over the top of his spectacles. The carriage started to amble through town, the hoofbeats and city noise keeping their conversation private. The blinds were open and Thomas looked out at the cobbled streets and bright doorways as they passed.

“Last night was—”

“Beautiful.” Richard said.

“A sin—”

“Thomas, I cannot—” Richard huffed, took off his glasses, tapped them on his knee and sat forward. “I cannot undo the years of abuse and hurt you have suffered. Not in a day of riding boats or carriages, and certainly not when we arrive at the source of it. I can only assure you that you are not alone. You are not the first man or woman to fall for one of their own. It is not something that we chose. Any more than our hair color or our height.”

“But the bible—”

“Has been interpreted and reinterpreted by hundreds of men in power who sought to repopulate the earth with the poor and pious as to remain in power.”

Thomas was silent. “Richard—”

“They do this with fear. Not for the love of a god, but the fear of his retribution. And it keeps us all subjugate. Do you honestly believe a God would make you, perfect as you are, and mistakenly lead you to sin? That love, in all its fantastical and natural forms could be wrong?”

“I do not know.”

“You are a learned man. Think on it.” Richard said, put his glasses back on and began to read. The carriage jostled and swayed as they left the smoother cobble stone streets of Chippenham and tracked on to the dirt road. Richard tried to focus on his book, poetry…a love sonnet, that could have been meant for man or woman, or anything in between. He’d said the word love to the duke. And the duke had not said anything in return.

It was silly to be in love after a week. But Richard had known Thomas for so much longer. Hadn’t he wished he could meet a man like that in his own time? When there wasn’t a chasm of hurt to travel across to reach him. Love was not love when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove….

“It is an ever-fixed mark,” Richard whispered and stared out the window. Thomas sat, arm still crossed over his chest, eyes on the road that stretched out behind them, the rolling green fields. The stillness and the sway of a journey taking him back home to the expectations of his family.

Thomas let the swaying settle his mind. Richard could not change the years of abuse. But he could offer him a safe place. Thomas had been a great many things in his life. Rich, strong, kept and shaped. But never safe. He looked up, Richard was still staring out of the window, biting his bottom lip and thinking over whatever verse he’d just read. A warrior body, a scholar mind. Damn, if he didn’t love the man. He wanted to know more. He wanted to spend years learning what made Richard Shaw such an enigmatic mystery. He would not get to know him in silence. Or from so far away.

“Make space,” Thomas grumbled and came to Richard’s side of the carriage.

“My lord?” Richard began but the duke gently nudged him to the side and sat down, swinging his legs up on the seat and laying his head in Richard’s lap. Richard lifted his arms in surprise and looked down at the scowl on Thomas’ face.

“Well?” Thomas asked.

“What is it you expect of me?” Richard asked, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow.

“Read to me, Doctor of Books.” Thomas whispered, folded his hands across his stomach and closed his eyes. Richard smiled, the weight and warmth of Thomas’ head on his thigh bringing such a beautiful sense of ease. He began, soft, even and intoning the rich language of a man who knew the power of words. His hand fell to where Thomas’ were folded and he caressed the duke’s fingers. Soon, his own hands and eyelids felt heavy and he took of his glasses. Thomas was asleep, curled into his stomach. He gently caressed his forehead, brushed the dark blonde hair away from his eyes and leaned his head back on the cushion. He tried to think through it, be logical…breathe deeply and let go of what he could not change. He kept stroking Thomas’ soft hair and felt some of his tension ease. They were here, they were safe.

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