Iris Blobel
May I introduce: Chris Redding "A View To A Nerd"
"A View To A Nerd"
by Chris Redding
Do you plot or do you write
by the seat of your pants?
I used to be an avowed plotter, but I had more energy
then. Now I find it harder to keep the story in my head so I plot it out
loosely.
What do you know now that you
are published that you didn’t know pre-published that you wish you knew?
I wish I had known that the publishing world would
change so dramatically. I was published more than ten years ago the first time
and I feel as if I’m on the same spot in the learning curve now as I was then.
The curve had just gotten higher.
If you have a day job, what
is it?
I’m also a fiction ghostwriter. It has taught me how
to be more disciplined in my writing. I more prolific than I’ve ever been. I
also have a job that I call my “get out of the house” job. I work part time at
a winery. They pay me to talk to people, about wine. And I will be writing a
trilogy that involves a winery next year. I’m looking forward to it.
What do you consider your
strengths in terms of your writing?
My strength is dialogue. I listen to people around me
all the time. Sounds strange, but you get the rhythm of how a conversation
plays out. It isn’t always simple back and forth.
What’s your favourite quote?
Life is what happens when you’re busy making other
plans. It’s John Lennon from a song he wrote for his son called Beautiful Boy.
I’ve found it to be very true.
Blurb:
Waking up next to a dead guy can ruin your
whole day. When a wise-cracking interior decorator wants to put her past behind
her, the dead body of the mayor’s son makes her realize that won’t happen too
easily. A conservative former computer geek for the FBI is holding on too
tightly to his past. His wife died under suspicious circumstances and he
believes the decorator has the information to solve the case. Unfortunately for
him, she isn’t speaking until a series of events convinces her she needs protection
especially when her biggest secret threatens to destroy both of their lives. This
was originally published as A View to a Kilt.
Author:
Chris Redding lives in New Jersey with her husband, two kids, one dog and two show rabbits. Her youngest son is a member of 4-H, hence the show rabbits.
Chris graduated from Penn State with a degree in Journalism and is still a diehard Nittany Lions fan. In fact, she bleeds Penn State Blue! Her dream is to get her Masters in Education degree and teach creative writing at Penn State.
Her books are filled with romance, suspense and thrills. She also dabbles in copywriting, including web content and product descriptions. When she isn’t writing, she works for a local winery.
Excerpt:
“There’s a pack of reporters out there.”
“Reporters?”
Gazing past him out the two sets of glass doors, she
saw the news vans. Damn. She bit her
lip, glancing from him to the door. She sighed. “Is there another way out?”
He nodded and she found herself following the man.
She took two steps, then stopped short. Am I crazy?
He turned to look at her.
“What? The other door is this way.”
“Who are you?”
He smiled and saluted. “Gus Macpherson, a friend of
Lieutenant Bob Carnes.”
Her eyes narrowed, but he looked like the type of
friend Bob might have. With his erect posture and constantly scanning eyes,
“Cop” might well have been stamped on his forehead. She looked around the hallway then back at
Gus. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.” Just in case she assessed him incorrectly.
He put his hands up. “These will not come anywhere
near you.”
“Okay, lead on.”
He continued in the direction he had indicated
earlier. Some part of her brain registered a nice butt in worn jeans. The
thought went no further. The tall man led her through the emergency department,
down a hallway to the Main Entrance.
She stopped by the door, arms crossed. “Won’t there
be reporters, here?”
The redhead shook his head. “Take a look.”
No news vans.
“You’re right,” she said, but when she looked up the man had disappeared.
Get hooked on "Innocent Tears" - #MFRWHooks #Reading
Welcome to another MFRWHook!
"Innocent Tears" is set in Melbourne / Australia
I hope you get hooked by this
Snippet
BLURB:
Becoming a parent can be daunting at the best of times, but for Flynn, a business lawyer in Melbourne, it almost pulls the feet from right underneath him. He’s become a father to six-year-old Nadine literally overnight! He had no idea about her existence, and the news throws him into chaos, even more so when he is asked to take over custody.
With the help of Emma, an employee at the hotel where Nadine and her grandparents are staying, and his parents, Flynn tries to do the right thing. Yet, the right thing in his eyes differs from his parents’, and Emma is voicing her opinion as well. And right in the middle is little Nadine, still grieving the loss of her mother and finding a wonderful friend in Emma. There’s no doubt she’s afraid where and with whom she will settle.
But in the end, it’s a letter Flynn receives that helps him figuring out what to do.
Today's hook:
Emma
leaned across the counter and smiled at Nadine.With the help of Emma, an employee at the hotel where Nadine and her grandparents are staying, and his parents, Flynn tries to do the right thing. Yet, the right thing in his eyes differs from his parents’, and Emma is voicing her opinion as well. And right in the middle is little Nadine, still grieving the loss of her mother and finding a wonderful friend in Emma. There’s no doubt she’s afraid where and with whom she will settle.
But in the end, it’s a letter Flynn receives that helps him figuring out what to do.
Today's hook:
“Enjoy
your holidays,” she said and winked. “And come see me sometime to tell me about
the tooth fairy.”
“We’re
not on a holiday,” the girl said in almost a whisper. “We’re
here to meet my dad.”
Then she hopped off after Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, who Emma
assumed were the little girl’s grandparents. Emma wondered about that remark
and then remembered what the girl had said about her mother. She watched as
Mrs. Gibbs rushed her husband and Nadine into the lift, and the door slid shut.
5 Stars:
I am a big fan of Miss Blobel's work. I love her characters and get so into their lives and how that comes together and culminates in the end. I loved Flynn and his apprehension about having to be a new Dad to a child he had never met. Emma's involvement and her torment of having to chose the right man. Jack's dormant abusive behavior and Teresa indifference to Nadine, who by the way was a very endearing child. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and Kudos to its author!!
4 Stars:
A very good story that keeps you turning the pages to find out what is going to happen next. A fairly predictable ending but who doesnt like a happy ending?
Review: Tana French "The Likeness"
ISBN: 9780670018864
My rating: 5/5
Six months after the events of In the Woods, an urgent telephone call beckons detective Cassie Maddox to a grisly crime scene. The victim looks exactly like Cassie and carries ID identifying herself as Alexandra Madison, an alias Cassie once used. Suddenly, Cassie must discover not only who killed this girl, but, more importantly, who she is. A disturbing tale of shifting identities, The Likeness firmly establishes Tana French as an important voice in suspense fiction. (www.goodreads.com)
My thoughts
What a brilliant read. I loved it.
This was my first book by Tana French and although initially I thought it was slow going, it (thankfully!) dawned on me very quickly that this isn't a "fast-food-read" which we get bombarded with from everywhere. It's well and truly over 400 pages, but each page worth the while.
A woman with the name Lexie Madison is found dead - it's the same fake identity Cassie Maddox used in an undercover case years earlier, but not only that, the dead woman looks exactly like Cassie as well.
So Cassie becomes Lexie once again and goes undercover and moves in with Lexie's four friends Daniel, Abby, Justin, and Rafe.
I loved the group, graduate students, who couldn't be any more different from each other, living together in an old house in the country, trying hard to escape the hectic daily life of the big city and the boundaries of society. Even Cassie finds herself getting attached to their life, to a point where her loyalties to her job and the police are tested. But, of course, their perfect life isn't perfect at all and soon cracks appear.
Tana French's writing style is beautiful with details and descriptions near perfect. I felt drawn into the story so much, I felt somewhat lost after I finished the book.
My rating: 5/5
Six months after the events of In the Woods, an urgent telephone call beckons detective Cassie Maddox to a grisly crime scene. The victim looks exactly like Cassie and carries ID identifying herself as Alexandra Madison, an alias Cassie once used. Suddenly, Cassie must discover not only who killed this girl, but, more importantly, who she is. A disturbing tale of shifting identities, The Likeness firmly establishes Tana French as an important voice in suspense fiction. (www.goodreads.com)
My thoughts
What a brilliant read. I loved it.
This was my first book by Tana French and although initially I thought it was slow going, it (thankfully!) dawned on me very quickly that this isn't a "fast-food-read" which we get bombarded with from everywhere. It's well and truly over 400 pages, but each page worth the while.
A woman with the name Lexie Madison is found dead - it's the same fake identity Cassie Maddox used in an undercover case years earlier, but not only that, the dead woman looks exactly like Cassie as well.
So Cassie becomes Lexie once again and goes undercover and moves in with Lexie's four friends Daniel, Abby, Justin, and Rafe.
I loved the group, graduate students, who couldn't be any more different from each other, living together in an old house in the country, trying hard to escape the hectic daily life of the big city and the boundaries of society. Even Cassie finds herself getting attached to their life, to a point where her loyalties to her job and the police are tested. But, of course, their perfect life isn't perfect at all and soon cracks appear.
Tana French's writing style is beautiful with details and descriptions near perfect. I felt drawn into the story so much, I felt somewhat lost after I finished the book.
May I introduce: @KryssieFortune "Knights Vampire"
Knights Vampire
by Kryssie Fortune
Why the Knights Defender became the
Knights Vampire
History records how the Knights Templar met a
sticky end on Friday the Thirteenth. A lesser known organization, the Knights
Defender, briefly eclipsed them, then they vanished.
The Knights Defender, founded by King Henry I
of England, stood against injustice wherever they found it. Soon the Knights
and their order became pan-European, but their determined search for justice
upset noble landowners.
Unbeknownst to his order, the Knights
Defender’s grand master dabbled in dark arts. He foresaw how the nobles would
close ranks around his people and destroy them the way the pope and the French
king stitched up the Templars.
The road to hell is paved with good
intentions. It certainly was in the case of the Knights Defender.
Their grand master dreamed of creating an
eternal police force, and found a way to turn his greatest knights immortal. He
turned them vampire. Brave men surrendered their souls to guard and protect the
world they loved.
So far, so good, but the grand master’s
judgment was flawed. He turned ass-lickers, con-men, and would-be criminals as
well as medieval heroes. His second in command wasn’t noble or unworldly. He
turned some of the greatest knights—like Blaxton the Bold—without their consent
and left them to flounder.
For centuries, Blaxton’s tried to understand
why his order betrayed him. He feels nothing and care for no one—until he meets
Harriet.
Book Blurb
Betrayed by
the Knight Defenders and murdered by his cousin, crusader knight Blaxton de
Ferrers rose as a vampire. For nine centuries, he’s preyed on the people he
once swore to protect. Gradually, as his emotions leach out of him, he forgets
how to feel. Then he meets Harriet.
Harriet Mortlake’s a strong sassy woman who battles her weight and her temper. Her job is to seek out the ancient secrets of the castle that was Blaxton’s childhood home. Instead, she finds the love of her life.
When danger threatens Harriet, Blaxton steps in. Harriet and Blaxton, are a match made in heaven. Except… he’s a vampire and to fully claim her, he’ll have to kill her.
Harriet Mortlake’s a strong sassy woman who battles her weight and her temper. Her job is to seek out the ancient secrets of the castle that was Blaxton’s childhood home. Instead, she finds the love of her life.
When danger threatens Harriet, Blaxton steps in. Harriet and Blaxton, are a match made in heaven. Except… he’s a vampire and to fully claim her, he’ll have to kill her.
Buy links
Amazon UK http://amzn.to/1Ch1LMx
Amazon AU http://bit.ly/1BeXhVm
All Romance
Books http://bit.ly/1AOLsm5
Author Social Media
Twitter http://bit.ly/1Ch2Vrp
Facebook http://on.fb.me/15aWU2D
Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/1BGygF
Excerpt
“How dare you
embarrass me like that?” Harriet Mortlake planted her hands on her hips and
glowered at the man she’d cornered outside the cafe. Spitting mad, she wanted
to slap the condescending smile off his face. Normally, she was iceberg cool,
but as hard as she tried to keep her expression neutral, she could feel
lightning bolts flashing from her eyes.
“It’s a temple, not a chapel,” he insisted.
Stubborn. Damn. Male. She’d been showing the big guns from the Castles’ Management Trust round the building, but they clearly thought her too young for her role as Whitborough Castle’s archivist. She’d almost been too angry to think when this know-it-all first sounded off. Now he infuriated her all over again.
Harriet snorted. “As if! No way would medieval Christians build a pagan temple on their grounds. Superstitious locals would probably have accused them of devil worship and burned them at the stake. Any fool knows that.”
Her degree in library science made her suitable for the post. The castle manager had told her afterward that she’d been the only applicant. She’d almost stuck her tongue out at the head office guys and yelled Beggars can’t be choosers.
Despite Mr. Condescending’s interference, she’d managed to impress the big bosses—she thought. He flashed her a smile so electrifying it would have lit up the dingy, underground chapel where he’d embarrassed her earlier. The way he sat there dripping sex appeal, her anger might have evaporated. If only he hadn’t needed to have the last word.
He took another sip of coffee. “You really should get your facts right.”
Stupid, arrogant male. She couldn’t decide whether to show him her diplomas and degrees or kick his shins. Professional to the core, she’d reined in her temper while the higher-ups carried out their inspection, but now that they’d left, she felt free to vent her rage.
Hands still on her hips, she tapped her foot at him. “Lost for words without an audience? Or maybe you can’t back up your cock-and-bull story? Put up or shut up, Mister. Tell me why you think it’s a temple.”
Mr. Condescending sat outside the tearoom as if he hadn’t a care in the world and enjoyed the early afternoon sunshine. He didn’t know it, but his interference when she’d shown the bigwigs into the chapel could have cost her a job she loved. Whitborough Castle’s extensive records needed cataloging, and she considered herself fortunate to work here. Only sometimes, she got a someone’s watching me feeling that unsettled her.
The last two archivists had vanished, and the police were “looking into it”—whatever that meant. Now people viewed the post as a poisoned chalice. Harriet knew an opportunity when she saw it, and she’d grabbed it with both hands. Everything should have been perfect, but it wasn’t. From day one—just four weeks ago—she’d felt as if the castle’s ghosts studied her as eagerly as she studied the records. Paranoid or what?
After an early start, she met the bigwigs from Castles’ Management Trust for the first time. Things had been going well. Okay, they’d been surprised by her youth, and clearly considered her too inexperienced for the post of archivist. By the time they reached the chapel, she’d almost won them over. Then Mr. Condescending here stuck his oar in, and if she hadn’t handled him right, she’d probably have lost her job.
Teeth gritted, Harriet had thanked him for his interest and told him politely that he was mistaken. Intimidating and so tall she had to look up to see his face, he made her think of the Norman conquerors who’d built the castle. He was all muscle, sex, and sin—but his stubborn assertion that the chapel had been a temple sparked her temper.
Her mouth had watered when she’d first seen him, but his cavalier attitude infuriated her. If her employers hadn’t been watching, she’d have told him exactly what she thought. She’d have regretted it later—maybe—but her temper had helped her survive ever since as a young girl she’d dragged her mother to the women’s shelter.
There he went with that dazzling smile again. He had to be the most handsome man she’d seen in… Well, forever. His masculine essence—sandalwood and exotic spices—wrapped warm tendrils around her heart. Her breasts perked up beneath her blouse, and they ached for his touch.
Her favorite bra suddenly felt so tight it abraded her nipples like sandpaper, and an unfamiliar tingling started in her cunt. Why did her anger evaporate, just because he smiled? What sort of fool woman caved just because a man had the most kissable lips ever? Lips she wanted to taste…repeatedly. Not that having such a tempting mouth made him less condescending. She paused, seeking the right riposte to tear him to shreds.
He stood up and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Blaxton de Ferrers.”
His voice—a deep, masculine rumble that made her want to beg him to say her name—thrilled her more than his smile. This man just kept getting better, but she’d come here to confront him, not drag him over the table and kiss him until they ran out of breath.
Something wild, almost primal, stirred inside her, but she wasn’t the sort of predatory female who encouraged strange men into her bed. Apart from one disastrous night with Martin, she was practically a virgin. Afterward, he’d told his friends she was frigid, and they’d christened her “the ice queen.” She’d squared her shoulders and stood tall—half an inch short of six feet—and ignored them. But her dating confidence had sunk to zero. After that she’d channeled her anger into her studies rather than sex.
Today her body went into sensual overdrive and demanded— Hell, she wasn’t sure what she wanted, but it was all bound up in Blaxton de Ferrers, aka Mr. Condescending.
He told her quietly, “It’s polite to shake someone’s hand when they offer it.”
She kept her hands firmly on her hips. Where did this jerk get off, reprimanding her about her manners? He took condescending to a whole new level, but he’d picked on the wrong girl when he’d heckled her. “Not when they damn near cost me my job. I needed to make a good impression, and you took over like you knew everything there is to know about this place. And heads-up, Mister. It’s rude to stare at my breasts.”
He grinned again. His smile melted her heart and warmed her soul. “Actually, I was staring at your name tag. Harriet’s a pretty name. It suits you.”
Talk about open mouth and insert foot. Harriet blushed and wished she’d said nothing. And hang on… De Ferrers? The family who once owned this castle? Someone once told Harriet she was part cat—always curious, always asking questions—and she supposed they’d been right.
She silently ran through the property’s history. Henry II had gifted the lands to Peter de Ferrers, and he’d turned the wooden stronghold into a magnificent castle. Maybe Mr. Condescending was a distant descendant of the original family.
Blaxton flashed that smile again, the one that made her heart beat double-time. He had to be the tallest man she’d ever seen. Not a beanpole, just a wide-shouldered, broad-chested piece of perfection.
He rested on hand on her arm. “Harriet, I’m sorry if I was out of line this morning. Let me make amends with coffee and cake; then I’ll explain why it’s a temple.”
His touch made her blood sizzle through her veins. She didn’t care that he invaded her personal space. Sitting here at one of the tearoom’s outdoor picnic benches and staring out to sea or watching him smile sounded amazing. Drinking coffee while his bass voice washed over her would make her lunch break perfect. Or maybe she’d enjoy it more if he kept his mouth shut. He made great eye candy, but she still raged about the arrogant way he’d interrupted her presentation. Even now, he wouldn’t see sense about the chapel.
She wanted to storm back to her office, find the original documents, and prove him wrong, but she hated when her temper got the better of her. She deliberately rolled her shoulders and relaxed. “I should apologize too. I try not to be so quick-tempered, but what can I say? Today was an epic fail, and I’m sorry.”
A wayward, feminine part of her still obsessed over his lips. Her common sense shouted for her to get out of there, but sometimes being sensible sucked. “Maybe just a coffee, but no cake. A lifetime on the hips and all that.”
He smiled, clearly taking her words as an invitation to study her curves. His scrutiny made her cheeks burn, and she knew she blushed again. Maybe I should give the low-fat diet another go.
Then, as if he’d read her mind, he told her, “I think your hips are perfect.”
Okay, he was silver-tongued and gorgeous, but it didn’t change facts. She’d gotten through university on a diet of pasta, rice, and chips—anything inexpensive so she didn’t get too deep in debt—but all those carbohydrates had settled on her hips and breasts. Men like Blaxton de Ferrers wanted slender fashion plates on their arms—and in their beds. Still, if he was interested, she’d starve herself for someone as downright sexy as him. The South Sea diet’s supposed to be good. Yeah, like I’ve ever managed more than a few days on a diet.
She sat opposite him. “Just a black coffee, please.”
His predatory walk made her mouth water, and she wondered what he’d be like in bed. He’d look amazing naked and… Her own thoughts made her blush. She knew nothing would ever happen between them, but a girl could dream.
Once he’d proved his point, he’d be on his way. It was probably for the best. Harriet wasn’t letting anyone into her bed easily, no matter how much they made her drool. Not after that disastrous one-and-only night when Martin had stopped over and things ended…badly. His insults had gotten under her skin, and she’d flung his clothes out the window. When he objected, she shoved his naked ass out the door and slammed it behind him.
She’d have been fine if he hadn’t compared her to an iceberg—stationary and freezing. One look at Blaxton de Ferrers and her panties grew damp with desire. How embarrassing was that? Especially after he interrupted her debut presentation to her bosses.
Moments later he returned, a mug steaming in each hand. “Your coffee, milady.”
He’d gone from condescending to charming in the space of a few heartbeats, but she still needed answers. She blinked hard, stunned by the pull this man had on her. Normally reserved, she hated how her nipples pebbled in his presence.
In his crisp jeans and button-down shirt, he looked expensive and…edible. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves. His arms were rock-hard, muscular, and suntanned. When she looked closer, she thought his watch was the same brand all the Hollywood stars wore—a solid gold one at that. His sun-bleached hair fell in casual disarray over his collar. She knew an expensive haircut when she saw it.
Harriet studied him as though he were a bug beneath a microscope. “De Ferrers? Are you a descendant of the original family that ruled here in medieval times? Do you really know things about this castle that no one else does? What makes you think the chapel was really a temple? And if it was, who worshiped there? And if it was a pagan stronghold, then why do the oldest documents mark it with a cross?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Slow down. You’re firing questions the way a machine gun fires bullets. Yes, my ancestors once ruled here, but it was a long time ago. How about you tell me why you believe that black hole’s a chapel? It looks more like a dungeon to me.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Clever, turning my own question back on me. Okay, I’ll play. I’m the new archivist here, but back in Victorian times, they unearthed an original map of the castle. Your dungeon, temple, or whatever you want to call it was marked with a cross. See? Temples are pagan strongholds, not places for Christian worship.”
He grinned that devastating smile that melted her bones, and tossed her a tidbit of information. “The cross on the plans. Were all the arms the same length? Was it bright blue on a silver-gray background, and did the arms have cut off triangle bases inverted and stuck on their ends?”
Harriet’s breath came faster, and as she stared down at her hand, it shook so hard she almost spilled her coffee. “You mean like a Knights Templar cross but in different colors? Azure and argent? Sorry, you’d call them sky blue and silver. Those were the Knights Defender’s colors, weren’t they? Do you really think it was one of their temples where they carried out their most secret and sacred rituals? Really? It’d make my career if you’re right, but we don’t have any Knights Defender connections here.”
Hot coffee scalded Harriet’s throat, but the quicker she drank it the sooner she could return to her office and check out the original map. Proving a Knights Defender connection could make her reputation and impress the higher-ups who’d doubted her. “I’ll dig out those original plans and check, but I can’t believe anyone could make such a foolish mistake. Can I have your phone number or something, and if you’re right, I’d love to talk.”
Mortified, she realized she’d just asked this stranger for his phone number. He wound her up like a clockwork toy, and when she chased after him, he talked with such authority she almost believed him. Besides, even if he’d made his wild story up, she really wanted to see him again. Who was she kidding? She needed to know if he tasted as great as he smelled—all sandalwood and exotic spices. If he did, she’d surely find him addictive.
Blaxton grinned, pulled out a business card, and scribbled a cell phone number underneath his business contacts. “Here. That’s my personal number.”
She studied the card and laughed. “It says here you’re a property developer. I can’t see you being able to do much with a twelfth-century castle, even if it wasn’t grade one listed.”
He stared out to sea, and for a moment he looked lost. His smile returned so quickly Harriet wondered if she’d imagined his brief withdrawal.
He finished his coffee and stood up. “Maybe I could demolish the damned temple and replace it with a real chapel. I’m not staying in Yorkshire long, but would you have dinner with me tonight? We can discuss the Knights Defender if you like. How about we meet up in the Italian restaurant by the harbor? I’ll book a table for eight o’clock tonight if you’re free.”
Harriet blushed, but she smiled back. Tonight she’d be dining with the best-looking guy in the town—if he turned up. She’d been stood up so many times by her ex before she’d stupidly let him share her body and her bed. After the way he’d treated her, dating came hard.
Blaxton de Ferrers seemed genuine. Part of her wanted to run out and get her nails done right along with her hair. What the hell am I going to wear? She wasn’t some sophisticated London beauty, but she cleaned up okay despite her extra ten pounds. Besides, no way would she miss a chance to pump him for information. And if he wants to kiss me goodnight… Well, I might just let him.
“It’s a temple, not a chapel,” he insisted.
Stubborn. Damn. Male. She’d been showing the big guns from the Castles’ Management Trust round the building, but they clearly thought her too young for her role as Whitborough Castle’s archivist. She’d almost been too angry to think when this know-it-all first sounded off. Now he infuriated her all over again.
Harriet snorted. “As if! No way would medieval Christians build a pagan temple on their grounds. Superstitious locals would probably have accused them of devil worship and burned them at the stake. Any fool knows that.”
Her degree in library science made her suitable for the post. The castle manager had told her afterward that she’d been the only applicant. She’d almost stuck her tongue out at the head office guys and yelled Beggars can’t be choosers.
Despite Mr. Condescending’s interference, she’d managed to impress the big bosses—she thought. He flashed her a smile so electrifying it would have lit up the dingy, underground chapel where he’d embarrassed her earlier. The way he sat there dripping sex appeal, her anger might have evaporated. If only he hadn’t needed to have the last word.
He took another sip of coffee. “You really should get your facts right.”
Stupid, arrogant male. She couldn’t decide whether to show him her diplomas and degrees or kick his shins. Professional to the core, she’d reined in her temper while the higher-ups carried out their inspection, but now that they’d left, she felt free to vent her rage.
Hands still on her hips, she tapped her foot at him. “Lost for words without an audience? Or maybe you can’t back up your cock-and-bull story? Put up or shut up, Mister. Tell me why you think it’s a temple.”
Mr. Condescending sat outside the tearoom as if he hadn’t a care in the world and enjoyed the early afternoon sunshine. He didn’t know it, but his interference when she’d shown the bigwigs into the chapel could have cost her a job she loved. Whitborough Castle’s extensive records needed cataloging, and she considered herself fortunate to work here. Only sometimes, she got a someone’s watching me feeling that unsettled her.
The last two archivists had vanished, and the police were “looking into it”—whatever that meant. Now people viewed the post as a poisoned chalice. Harriet knew an opportunity when she saw it, and she’d grabbed it with both hands. Everything should have been perfect, but it wasn’t. From day one—just four weeks ago—she’d felt as if the castle’s ghosts studied her as eagerly as she studied the records. Paranoid or what?
After an early start, she met the bigwigs from Castles’ Management Trust for the first time. Things had been going well. Okay, they’d been surprised by her youth, and clearly considered her too inexperienced for the post of archivist. By the time they reached the chapel, she’d almost won them over. Then Mr. Condescending here stuck his oar in, and if she hadn’t handled him right, she’d probably have lost her job.
Teeth gritted, Harriet had thanked him for his interest and told him politely that he was mistaken. Intimidating and so tall she had to look up to see his face, he made her think of the Norman conquerors who’d built the castle. He was all muscle, sex, and sin—but his stubborn assertion that the chapel had been a temple sparked her temper.
Her mouth had watered when she’d first seen him, but his cavalier attitude infuriated her. If her employers hadn’t been watching, she’d have told him exactly what she thought. She’d have regretted it later—maybe—but her temper had helped her survive ever since as a young girl she’d dragged her mother to the women’s shelter.
There he went with that dazzling smile again. He had to be the most handsome man she’d seen in… Well, forever. His masculine essence—sandalwood and exotic spices—wrapped warm tendrils around her heart. Her breasts perked up beneath her blouse, and they ached for his touch.
Her favorite bra suddenly felt so tight it abraded her nipples like sandpaper, and an unfamiliar tingling started in her cunt. Why did her anger evaporate, just because he smiled? What sort of fool woman caved just because a man had the most kissable lips ever? Lips she wanted to taste…repeatedly. Not that having such a tempting mouth made him less condescending. She paused, seeking the right riposte to tear him to shreds.
He stood up and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Blaxton de Ferrers.”
His voice—a deep, masculine rumble that made her want to beg him to say her name—thrilled her more than his smile. This man just kept getting better, but she’d come here to confront him, not drag him over the table and kiss him until they ran out of breath.
Something wild, almost primal, stirred inside her, but she wasn’t the sort of predatory female who encouraged strange men into her bed. Apart from one disastrous night with Martin, she was practically a virgin. Afterward, he’d told his friends she was frigid, and they’d christened her “the ice queen.” She’d squared her shoulders and stood tall—half an inch short of six feet—and ignored them. But her dating confidence had sunk to zero. After that she’d channeled her anger into her studies rather than sex.
Today her body went into sensual overdrive and demanded— Hell, she wasn’t sure what she wanted, but it was all bound up in Blaxton de Ferrers, aka Mr. Condescending.
He told her quietly, “It’s polite to shake someone’s hand when they offer it.”
She kept her hands firmly on her hips. Where did this jerk get off, reprimanding her about her manners? He took condescending to a whole new level, but he’d picked on the wrong girl when he’d heckled her. “Not when they damn near cost me my job. I needed to make a good impression, and you took over like you knew everything there is to know about this place. And heads-up, Mister. It’s rude to stare at my breasts.”
He grinned again. His smile melted her heart and warmed her soul. “Actually, I was staring at your name tag. Harriet’s a pretty name. It suits you.”
Talk about open mouth and insert foot. Harriet blushed and wished she’d said nothing. And hang on… De Ferrers? The family who once owned this castle? Someone once told Harriet she was part cat—always curious, always asking questions—and she supposed they’d been right.
She silently ran through the property’s history. Henry II had gifted the lands to Peter de Ferrers, and he’d turned the wooden stronghold into a magnificent castle. Maybe Mr. Condescending was a distant descendant of the original family.
Blaxton flashed that smile again, the one that made her heart beat double-time. He had to be the tallest man she’d ever seen. Not a beanpole, just a wide-shouldered, broad-chested piece of perfection.
He rested on hand on her arm. “Harriet, I’m sorry if I was out of line this morning. Let me make amends with coffee and cake; then I’ll explain why it’s a temple.”
His touch made her blood sizzle through her veins. She didn’t care that he invaded her personal space. Sitting here at one of the tearoom’s outdoor picnic benches and staring out to sea or watching him smile sounded amazing. Drinking coffee while his bass voice washed over her would make her lunch break perfect. Or maybe she’d enjoy it more if he kept his mouth shut. He made great eye candy, but she still raged about the arrogant way he’d interrupted her presentation. Even now, he wouldn’t see sense about the chapel.
She wanted to storm back to her office, find the original documents, and prove him wrong, but she hated when her temper got the better of her. She deliberately rolled her shoulders and relaxed. “I should apologize too. I try not to be so quick-tempered, but what can I say? Today was an epic fail, and I’m sorry.”
A wayward, feminine part of her still obsessed over his lips. Her common sense shouted for her to get out of there, but sometimes being sensible sucked. “Maybe just a coffee, but no cake. A lifetime on the hips and all that.”
He smiled, clearly taking her words as an invitation to study her curves. His scrutiny made her cheeks burn, and she knew she blushed again. Maybe I should give the low-fat diet another go.
Then, as if he’d read her mind, he told her, “I think your hips are perfect.”
Okay, he was silver-tongued and gorgeous, but it didn’t change facts. She’d gotten through university on a diet of pasta, rice, and chips—anything inexpensive so she didn’t get too deep in debt—but all those carbohydrates had settled on her hips and breasts. Men like Blaxton de Ferrers wanted slender fashion plates on their arms—and in their beds. Still, if he was interested, she’d starve herself for someone as downright sexy as him. The South Sea diet’s supposed to be good. Yeah, like I’ve ever managed more than a few days on a diet.
She sat opposite him. “Just a black coffee, please.”
His predatory walk made her mouth water, and she wondered what he’d be like in bed. He’d look amazing naked and… Her own thoughts made her blush. She knew nothing would ever happen between them, but a girl could dream.
Once he’d proved his point, he’d be on his way. It was probably for the best. Harriet wasn’t letting anyone into her bed easily, no matter how much they made her drool. Not after that disastrous one-and-only night when Martin had stopped over and things ended…badly. His insults had gotten under her skin, and she’d flung his clothes out the window. When he objected, she shoved his naked ass out the door and slammed it behind him.
She’d have been fine if he hadn’t compared her to an iceberg—stationary and freezing. One look at Blaxton de Ferrers and her panties grew damp with desire. How embarrassing was that? Especially after he interrupted her debut presentation to her bosses.
Moments later he returned, a mug steaming in each hand. “Your coffee, milady.”
He’d gone from condescending to charming in the space of a few heartbeats, but she still needed answers. She blinked hard, stunned by the pull this man had on her. Normally reserved, she hated how her nipples pebbled in his presence.
In his crisp jeans and button-down shirt, he looked expensive and…edible. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves. His arms were rock-hard, muscular, and suntanned. When she looked closer, she thought his watch was the same brand all the Hollywood stars wore—a solid gold one at that. His sun-bleached hair fell in casual disarray over his collar. She knew an expensive haircut when she saw it.
Harriet studied him as though he were a bug beneath a microscope. “De Ferrers? Are you a descendant of the original family that ruled here in medieval times? Do you really know things about this castle that no one else does? What makes you think the chapel was really a temple? And if it was, who worshiped there? And if it was a pagan stronghold, then why do the oldest documents mark it with a cross?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Slow down. You’re firing questions the way a machine gun fires bullets. Yes, my ancestors once ruled here, but it was a long time ago. How about you tell me why you believe that black hole’s a chapel? It looks more like a dungeon to me.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Clever, turning my own question back on me. Okay, I’ll play. I’m the new archivist here, but back in Victorian times, they unearthed an original map of the castle. Your dungeon, temple, or whatever you want to call it was marked with a cross. See? Temples are pagan strongholds, not places for Christian worship.”
He grinned that devastating smile that melted her bones, and tossed her a tidbit of information. “The cross on the plans. Were all the arms the same length? Was it bright blue on a silver-gray background, and did the arms have cut off triangle bases inverted and stuck on their ends?”
Harriet’s breath came faster, and as she stared down at her hand, it shook so hard she almost spilled her coffee. “You mean like a Knights Templar cross but in different colors? Azure and argent? Sorry, you’d call them sky blue and silver. Those were the Knights Defender’s colors, weren’t they? Do you really think it was one of their temples where they carried out their most secret and sacred rituals? Really? It’d make my career if you’re right, but we don’t have any Knights Defender connections here.”
Hot coffee scalded Harriet’s throat, but the quicker she drank it the sooner she could return to her office and check out the original map. Proving a Knights Defender connection could make her reputation and impress the higher-ups who’d doubted her. “I’ll dig out those original plans and check, but I can’t believe anyone could make such a foolish mistake. Can I have your phone number or something, and if you’re right, I’d love to talk.”
Mortified, she realized she’d just asked this stranger for his phone number. He wound her up like a clockwork toy, and when she chased after him, he talked with such authority she almost believed him. Besides, even if he’d made his wild story up, she really wanted to see him again. Who was she kidding? She needed to know if he tasted as great as he smelled—all sandalwood and exotic spices. If he did, she’d surely find him addictive.
Blaxton grinned, pulled out a business card, and scribbled a cell phone number underneath his business contacts. “Here. That’s my personal number.”
She studied the card and laughed. “It says here you’re a property developer. I can’t see you being able to do much with a twelfth-century castle, even if it wasn’t grade one listed.”
He stared out to sea, and for a moment he looked lost. His smile returned so quickly Harriet wondered if she’d imagined his brief withdrawal.
He finished his coffee and stood up. “Maybe I could demolish the damned temple and replace it with a real chapel. I’m not staying in Yorkshire long, but would you have dinner with me tonight? We can discuss the Knights Defender if you like. How about we meet up in the Italian restaurant by the harbor? I’ll book a table for eight o’clock tonight if you’re free.”
Harriet blushed, but she smiled back. Tonight she’d be dining with the best-looking guy in the town—if he turned up. She’d been stood up so many times by her ex before she’d stupidly let him share her body and her bed. After the way he’d treated her, dating came hard.
Blaxton de Ferrers seemed genuine. Part of her wanted to run out and get her nails done right along with her hair. What the hell am I going to wear? She wasn’t some sophisticated London beauty, but she cleaned up okay despite her extra ten pounds. Besides, no way would she miss a chance to pump him for information. And if he wants to kiss me goodnight… Well, I might just let him.
Get hooked on "Innocent Tears" - #MFRWHooks #AuthorRT
Welcome to another MFRWHook!
"Innocent Tears" is set in Melbourne / Australia
I hope you get hooked by this
Snippet
BLURB:
Becoming a parent can be daunting at the best of times, but for Flynn, a business lawyer in Melbourne, it almost pulls the feet from right underneath him. He’s become a father to six-year-old Nadine literally overnight! He had no idea about her existence, and the news throws him into chaos, even more so when he is asked to take over custody.
With the help of Emma, an employee at the hotel where Nadine and her grandparents are staying, and his parents, Flynn tries to do the right thing. Yet, the right thing in his eyes differs from his parents’, and Emma is voicing her opinion as well. And right in the middle is little Nadine, still grieving the loss of her mother and finding a wonderful friend in Emma. There’s no doubt she’s afraid where and with whom she will settle.
But in the end, it’s a letter Flynn receives that helps him figuring out what to do.
Today's hook:
With the help of Emma, an employee at the hotel where Nadine and her grandparents are staying, and his parents, Flynn tries to do the right thing. Yet, the right thing in his eyes differs from his parents’, and Emma is voicing her opinion as well. And right in the middle is little Nadine, still grieving the loss of her mother and finding a wonderful friend in Emma. There’s no doubt she’s afraid where and with whom she will settle.
But in the end, it’s a letter Flynn receives that helps him figuring out what to do.
Today's hook:
“My
Mum is dead.”
Somewhat
startled by this statement, Emma peeked over the reception desk into beautiful
green eyes that belonged to a cute little girl with brown curly hair and a
freckled button nose. She couldn’t help but smile. There was something in the
girl’s eyes that held a hint of mischief and curiosity, as well as some
sadness, and
Emma
was drawn to her instantly.
“Nadine!”
The
stern voice of an elderly woman approaching the reception caused Emma to nearly
jump out of her skin. The girl stiffened with eyes wide open.
“My
apologies for that,” the woman said to Emma, though her expression didn’t
actually reveal any signs of apologies. The woman’s face reflected a life of
bitterness, the lines appearing deep and weathered.
Emma
smiled. “No need to.”
An
elderly man joined them, and after a brief nod of acknowledgment she asked, “May
I help you?”
“Yes.
We would like to check in. Gibbs. William and Teresa Gibbs,” the woman replied.
5 Stars:
I am a big fan of Miss Blobel's work. I love her characters and get so into their lives and how that comes together and culminates in the end. I loved Flynn and his apprehension about having to be a new Dad to a child he had never met. Emma's involvement and her torment of having to chose the right man. Jack's dormant abusive behavior and Teresa indifference to Nadine, who by the way was a very endearing child. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and Kudos to its author!!
4 Stars:
A very good story that keeps you turning the pages to find out what is going to happen next. A fairly predictable ending but who doesnt like a happy ending?
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