They say the rule of thumb when blogging is to have new material every week.  Unfortunately, unless I tell all of you the personal details of my personal life (read: the things I wouldn’t share with my mother) I can’t come up with that much material. Boring life.  My husband hasn’t been attacked by bees lately.     Unless you want to hear about my dogs.  Hey, that’s a thought.  Watch for doggie stories.

Today, I’m popping in to affirm I am working on a sequel to Creatures of the Moon.  Do you want to know what happened to Detective Lydia Davis’s partner, Sergeant Adams?  He was last seen being wheeled away in an ambulance.  Stay tuned.

One more thing before I go.  Brenda Novak, a fabulous romance author is currently holding her auction for diabetes research here.  I’m high bidder on a couple things as I type this.    They’ve got some really nice items over there, and it’s a great cause.  Pop in and check it out.

I’ve copied the following from Brenda Novak’s website:

As a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author, Brenda has been able to count on her fans and her peers to support her annual online auctions, which runs May 1 – May 31st, helping her raise over $1.6 million so far!

Brenda is an active mother of five whose youngest son, Thad, was diagnosed with Type I Diabetes at the age of five. There began her personal crusade to fight a disease that affects millions. The 2011 statistics on diabetes are alarming — and clearly establish a challenge Brenda is trying to meet: improve lives by helping to raise money to battle this devastating disease. Data released by the ADA January 26, 2011 reveals there are 25.8 million children and adults in the United States — thus 8.3% of the population have diabetes. Another 79 million people have prediabetes. In 2010, 1.9 million new cases of diabetes were diagnosed.

There are many ways you can participate and help Brenda raise money toward a cure:

• Visit the Brenda Novak for The Cure website for more details.
• Join the cause in a variety of ways- from donating an item to helping us spread the word.
• Donate in your own way in the For The Cure Cafepress store.
• Visit the auction and make your shopping list! Items go up every day for the auction that opens on May 1st.

Do you want to know what happened to Eric Adams, last seen injured at the end of Creatures of the Moon?

Or would you rather another installment of Dr Josie Lester’s adventures in Villa Hollow?

Both of these stories are screaming to be written. I’ve found myself switching off between the two.

Do any of you have an opinion?

I’ve placed everyone’s name or twitter handle on a slip of paper, placed it in a bowl, closed my eyes and drew two names…

I’m happy to announce the winners:

Trish StJohn
And
Karen Y. Bynum

Congratulations ladies!

Available December 10, 2012 wherever eBooks are sold

Today is Once Upon a Couch’s release day! Happy birthday to my light paranormal romance, may you transport many readers to the town of Villa Hollow.

And now, the very last excerpt. This client, Amanda, is the one that turns Josie’s world upside-down. Josie’s first impression of Amanda certainly isn’t the most normal.

After closing the front door behind George, she turned to find Amanda on all fours sniffing the sofa cushions. Okay, sure. A perverse part of her wanted to wait to observe what the woman would do next. Unfortunately, the professional side said, “Excuse me.”

Amanda lifted her head and sniffed.

“Did you still want to talk?” Josie asked.

Amanda rose from the floor, her head tilted to one side. The hem of her skirt had hiked up to reveal about three inches of slip, and one of her shoes lay discarded on the floor behind her.

“Amanda?”

She sniffed again and tilted her head the other way.

“Amanda.” Josie spoke louder. She could be having a seizure. “Amanda.”

Her eyes refocused, and she seemed to wake. “Sorry, I blanked out there for a minute,” she said, smoothing her skirt and retrieving her shoe. “Are you ready for me now?”

“Yes, please go on in. I’ll get the paperwork.” Josie retrieved the clipboard and flipped through the pages.

Amanda worked as a real estate agent and lived alone. In the space where clients could list issues they wanted to work on, she’d started to write, but after the first few words, I think I may have, the pen trailed off the page. Apparently, around that time, she’d begun to sniff the furniture.

This is it.  The last day of our Share and Retweet drive.  So share and tweet this post to get the word out.  You have until midnight tonight to spread the word!  Tomorrow I will post the winner of our gift basket giveaway.

Available December 10, 2012 wherever eBooks are sold

It’s a little late in the day, but there’s a little bit of work getting ready for release day.

The second client I would like you to meet is a little more normal than the one we met yesterday.  Though he has a bit more anxiety and his name is slightly awkward.  Without further ado:

“Welcome.” She smiled and took the clipboard. “All right, Mr. Thehob, how can I help you?”

As he settled to the couch, his forehead creased and eyes closed. “The Hob.”

“I’m sorry.” Did he say the? Her stomach sank. This wasn’t going to be a normal session either. Good grief.

“My name; it’s George the Hob.”

Oh rats, he did say the. Should she call him Mr. Hob? “I’ve never met someone with a name like yours before. How would you like me to address you?”

His face smoothed, and for the first time since she met him, he stopped rocking. “George. Thank you for asking.”

Encouraged, she continued. “George, why don’t you start by telling me what brought you here today?”

He stood and began to pace in front of her desk, from the door on one side to the draped window on the other. “The problem is I’m not always pleasant. People will do something stupid or say something stupid, and I just lose my cool.”

“Everyone loses their cool, George.”

“No, not everyone. Not a Hob.” Step, step, step to the window. “I’m different. Sometimes, I don’t want to smile.” Step, step, step to the door. “I can’t be happy all the time. I’m supposed to be, I just can’t. Sometimes they call me hobgoblin.”

She glanced at her notepad. If she watched George too long, she’d need a Dramamine.   “You say you’re supposed to be happy,” she said, sidestepping the nickname. “Who says what you’re supposed to be?”

Time to retweet and share.  Time’s running out to qualify for the drawing!  Spread the word!

Available December 10, 2012 wherever eBooks are sold

Where would a psychiatrist be without patients? But what if the client is nocturnal?  Most doctors don’t have hours after dark.  This scene has Josie being awakened from a dream by her would-be client.

“Doctor.” The man reached a hand toward her. “Doctor, I need to talk to you.” Hoarse and husky, the whisper intruded on her dream.  It faded, and she became aware of her bed around her, the sheets on her skin and a hand on her shoulder.

Fully awake, she jumped and searched for the lamp on the bedside table. With a click, its amber glow illuminated the room and the man standing by her closet.

“What?” She scrambled and crouched on her pillow. All at once, she smelled charred flesh and remembered the man from the deli the previous afternoon. “You?”

“Yes, Doctor, my name is Jared. Please, you must help me.”

“What are you doing here? You can’t just come into someone’s house, into their bedroom.” She grabbed the portable phone from the receiver on her nightstand. “My bedroom.”

“I need your help.” He backed up and sat in the little recliner situated in the corner of her bedroom. With the drape pulled shut, not even light from the street lamps filtered in.

His face was clean-shaven and pale, except for red welts where burned skin had healed. He dressed in black jeans and a black hoodie sweatshirt. His wide eyes and half-open mouth made him appear sincere. Clasping his hands on his lap, he leaned forward earnestly.

He was compelling. So compelling she wanted to climb out of bed and onto his lap. Or come closer. He really should come a little closer. She eased off the pillow and pushed her hair back. He should see her neck. She had a very nice neck. “Anything you want,” she breathed.

“Oh, damn, I thought being a doctor…” He raised the hood of his sweatshirt, removed a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, and slipped them over his eyes.

Those beautiful eyes lost to her, she wanted to weep.

It took another moment before she realized she had dressed for bed, a T-shirt and no bra.  Incredibly uncomfortable, she pulled the comforter up to her chin. “What sort of help?” she asked.

“I’m a vampire.”

Does she believe him?  Why would a vampire need a psychiatrist?  You can pre-order Once Upon a Couch here and find out.

There are only two days left to share and tweet and earn entries into my gift basket giveaway!

Available December 10, 2012 wherever eBooks are sold

In Josie’s new town she encounters more than a little strangeness.  Over the next few days I’ll give you a peek.  Today’s excerpt highlight’s Josie’s garage.  I love this garage!  When I was growing up, my Uncle Ray and Aunt Lynn had an attic  with similar qualities, so you know it had to end up in my book.

In this scene Josie is looking for a way to extract her ex-boyfriend from her porch.

({Grins} No, I’m not going to explain more than that.)

Carefully she stepped around him and made her way across the driveway to the detached garage.

It was a dilapidated structure. She’d expected to tear it down once the inspector condemned it, but the garage had passed examination with flying colors. It smelled like paint, motor oil and fresh cut wood. Too bad it looked like termite spit and wishful thinking held the walls together. Wooden shingles that encased the structure had been whitewashed several times, but dark green paint bled through, giving the structure a streaky, stubborn look. Its roof was warped and its windows cracked, but like an obstinate old man, it stood the test of time. She loved her garage. It was a treasure trove.

Inside, she found every kind of tool she could ever want. Everything she could ever need. When she first moved into the house, she came out hoping for yard equipment to get the front looking nice. She found a canvas apron with hand tools and a lovely push mower. It took a weekend, but the front of the house now looked manicured and fresh. When she started painting the office spaces, she hoped to find brushes and rollers. After moving a few wooden milk crates, she found exactly what she needed.

Perhaps one day she’d come out and organize the piles of stuff in here, but the idea of a magic garage tickled her so much she couldn’t bring herself to rearrange.

This time she needed a stepstool. She flicked on the light and scanned the stacks. Nothing. Glancing up, she found a large extension ladder perfect for getting onto the roof, but not for getting her newly ex-boyfriend out of her porch. Darn. Maybe Meranda would have something.

As she turned, she found exactly what she needed. Against the front, a blue three-step ladder peeked out from around a stack of snow tires. “Thank you,” she said and removed the ladder. Why did she thank the garage? Why not? It had what she needed.

Do you want to know what’s up with the garage? Do you want to know how he got into her porch?  Of course you do.  :)  Lucky for you, on Monday, December 10, the wait will be over.  You can pre-order your eBook copy of Once Upon a Couch here.

Have you liked our week of excerpts so far?  Good!  Stay tuned!  Over the next three days you will have an opportunity to meet three of Josie’s clients.  Make sure to share this post with your friends so they don’t miss out!

Available December 10, 2012 wherever eBooks are sold

Let’s continue the momentum by meeting the one of the antagonists.

“If you don’t stop harassing the paranormal shops, John, we’re going to have to have words.” This wasn’t the first time John Nansemond tried to persuade the prominent citizens of the paranormal community to out the others who wished to remain quiet.

Alex’s family was one of the prominent ones.  His mother maintained a hand in local politics even after her term on the council had ended.  More than once she’d thwarted identification legislation proposed by the Coalition Against Paranormal People, or CAPP as they preferred to be called.

The telepathic ability Alex inherited from his mother had come in handy on more than one occasion. People in stressful conditions, such as encountering a curious police officer, inevitably thought about the crimes they were committing.  Like now all John Nansemond could think about was the shops he’d already visited today. He’d left Mrs. McCarthy, the seamstress, in tears.  She would be Alex’s next stop.

“We have a right to know who we’re associating with,” John protested.

“You want anyone from a paranormal family to wear a scarlet “P” on their chest.”

“It doesn’t have to be red.”

“No, John. No.” Alex pulled out his cuffs and waved them in front of John’s nose. “If I catch you at it again, you get to wear these and you’ll spend the night in jail. You’re welcome to bring it up at the next town meeting. See how far you get.”

“I might just do that.” As John strode away, he pulled out his cell phone.

Alex climbed into his vehicle and made the report. The coalition had to keep stirring up trouble. They wouldn’t stop until every paranormal person was either marked and coded or run out of town. People got riled up over things they didn’t understand all the time. As frustrating as it was, he couldn’t allow it to rile him up as well.

He watched from his car as Josie left All Natural and entered Mama’s Deli. Although she hadn’t committed any crime he was aware of, the woman shouted her thoughts every second of every day. Proximity made no difference. It was as if his brain was constantly tuned to the Josie Lester channel. He knew her every thought, need, and desire. Very often, his own thoughts mingled with hers and he’d daydream. He hadn’t daydreamed since he was ten.

She lived in the old Healey place. The others at the station had a pool on when she’d leave town. Most of the residents of that house didn’t last long.

Alex chose not to participate in the betting. He wouldn’t put money on the new doctor leaving. From what he’d heard of her thoughts, she was made of stubborn stuff.

He messaged Amelia he was on a break. Meditation might be the only answer. He wouldn’t be much use if he continued to allow the good doctor’s every stray thought to invade his mind like this.

Oh.  Who did John call?  Will Alex be able to get Josie out of his mind?

Tweet, share, tell your friends!  Every tweet or Facebook share gets your name in the hat for the gift basket drawing!

Available December 10, 2012 wherever eBooks are sold

Now that we’ve met the heroine and hero, on day 1 and day 2, it’s time to meet the heroine’s best friend.  Meranda has come to Josie’s house in order to show off her new boyfriend, Charlie.  He’s a chef…yum.

Charlie brought over a plate of crackers with little piles of gray stuff on top. “Taste this,” he said, before leaning down and planting a kiss on his girlfriend that curled Josie’s toes and had her averting her gaze.

When he returned to the kitchen, they each tried a cracker. The gray stuff was some sort of chopped olives and peppers. Not only did it completely go with the wine, but the smells from the kitchen seemed to add a layer of flavor that had both women humming.

“Is there anything sexier than a man who can cook?” Meranda asked, so he could hear. The look he shot in her direction let Josie know her presence was the only thing keeping her friend’s clothes in place. Meranda winked at him. “Later.” He went back to stirring something on the stove

Good grief. After Meranda refilled their glasses, Josie said, “I saw something pretty sexy this morning.”

“Really?” Her friend curled her legs under her and suddenly it was like they were back in the dorm. Josie told her friend about the policeman and his little dog. When she was done, Meranda grunted in disgust.  “All you did was wave?”

“He caught me staring. What was I supposed to do?”

“Walk over and introduce yourself? Get his number?” She shook her head. “Promise me you’ll do that next time.”

“There already was a next time.” Josie winced.

“What?” Meranda and Charlie chorused.

Jeez. She needed to remember Charlie was listening. “He stopped by a couple hours later to welcome me to town.”

“He did?” Her friend grinned like the Cheshire cat. “What else happened?”

“Nothing.”

They both groaned. Josie knew her friend would have a problem, but she didn’t think Charlie would too. “I have a boyfriend. Remember Tim?”

“Blah,” Meranda said.

“Blah,” Charlie echoed.

“Tim is a selfish swine, and you should have broken up with him months ago.” She pointed a finger with her free hand. “You’ve lived here for over a week, and has he come by? Did he help you move? Charlie would never let me move by myself. Would you, dear?”

“Never.”

“When was the last time you talked to the pig?” she demanded.

Josie loved how her friend never pulled any punches. “I was going to call him tonight—”

“But I was coming over and he hates me. He hates me because I’m trying to bring you to your senses. How many times does he call you? You always call him.” Meranda sighed and refilled their glasses.

She wasn’t wrong, but Josie kind of liked when he didn’t call. Okay, yeah, that’s not good. What did it say that spending time with her boyfriend could be exhausting? Who knew, she might have the same feelings for anyone she dated. “I probably won’t see the sheriff again, anyway.”

“Like you said, it’s a small town. There aren’t all that many police officers in Villa Hollow. You’ll see him again.”

“Remember, don’t ask him out if he pulls you over for speeding,” Charlie chimed in, coming to stand beside his girlfriend, this time offering her a spoonful of something.

“Noted,” Josie told him while Meranda tasted.

“Oh, Charlie, that’s delicious.”

He kissed her and retrieved the utensil.

She smiled dreamily after him. “He’s so talented.”

He was. The savory scents of dinner reached a level of heaven that Josie couldn’t ignore. Maybe if Meranda distracted him, she could sneak a spoonful of something for herself.

As she stood, Charlie removed something from the oven. “Please set the table,” he said. “Dinner is served.”

Dating advice and a great meal, what are best friend’s for, right?

Now’s the time to tell all of your friends.  Share, tweet, spread the word and earn entries into the gift basket giveaway!

Now that you’ve met our heroine, it’s time to meet our hero.  In this scene our heroine is attempting to unpack when there’s a knock at the door…guess who

She had managed to get her front rooms set up and decorated in two days. Thanks to the door separating the front of the house from the back, no clients would see the stacks of boxes she had piled in the large room, which served as both eat-in kitchen and living room. The bedrooms were upstairs and she had only unpacked enough to set up a bed and bathroom. She’d get the rest of the house done eventually, but unpacking was a process.

She pulled up another box when a knock sounded at the door. Another client? She dropped her scissors and tried to step over the pile in front of her. In her hurry, her toe caught on the edge and her collection of CDs cascaded across the floor. Rats. Crap.

Grabbing the shoes she’d slipped off, she bolted for the front of the house. She closed the partition door behind her as she scurried.

A quick glance into a small mirror on the wall in the foyer to be sure she was presentable. She straightened her pale peach blouse. The eyeliner chosen to accent her brown eyes hadn’t smudged. She smoothed her recently highlighted brown hair and quickly reset the combs that held it back. Professional. Competent.

Pulling open the door revealed the same policeman she had seen earlier.  No evidence of the dog.

“Hello.” She stepped back so he could enter. Wow, he was cuter up close. A few inches taller than she. She caught the faint scent of leather and spice as he stepped into the foyer. It took a moment for her to say, “I’m Dr. Lester. What can I do for you?”

“Sheriff Holmes.” He removed his hat and glanced around. “Only you? Most doctors’ offices have at least one support staff.”

She had to be a professional. He could be here for counseling. No need to tell him that she couldn’t afford more than one phone line either. “Only me for now. I’ll be placing an ad soon.”

He nodded. “Once business picks up and you can afford it.”

Was she so transparent? “How can I help you today, Sheriff?”

He strolled into the waiting room. Everything seemed to interest him. He studied the paintings, the curtains and even considered the couch a moment before turning to meet her gaze again.

At a distance this morning, she had the liberty of enjoying the view of his obviously well toned body in his incredibly sexy uniform. For some reason, his magnetism up close made her uncomfortable. It might have had something to do with his intense green eyes. She stepped to the side of an easy chair and placed her hands on the back of it, both as support for her weak knees and to keep from leaning in too close. What’s wrong with me?

 “So what prompted you to set up shop here? Do you have family or friends that live in town?” he asked.

“My college roommate, Meranda, grew up here. She talked about it so much that when it came time to start my practice, I couldn’t think of a better place. Plus there was a trust for the women of my family, and the paperwork that the lawyer—”

“Conrad Wingate. Tiny guy, talks a mile a minute.”

“Yes, that’s him. He said that I would only get the money for college when I’d kept my practice here in town for a year. Not a terrible compromise.” She wanted to expand on how exciting, nerve-racking and borderline terrifying it was starting a business. How her mother disapproved and started the silent treatment the day she moved her things into this house. She wanted to tell him everything, but she controlled herself. No need to frighten the poor sheriff.

Okay ladies and gents, its time to share and retweet this entry for your chance to score one of two giftbaskets that I’ll be giving away!