Monday, August 31, 2020

#MysteryMonday #Caitlin'sDuke


Title: Caitlin’s Duke

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance/Regency

Book Heat Level: 4

 

Buy at: AmazonBarnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo, Google Play

 

Read first chapter

 

TAGLINE

 

Roc Leighton knows the first time he watches Caitlin O'Shea play the fiddle and dance around the pub she will be his.

 

 

BLURB: Caitlin's Duke

 

She played a fiddle in an Irish pub....

 

Caitlin O'Shea Is the most beautiful woman Roc Leighton has ever seen. With her blue violet eyes and long black hair she captivates him. In turn he mesmerizes Caitlin. Caught in the power of his gaze as he watches her, she is wise enough to know he desires her but will never give his heart to her. Caitlin has vowed to never be any man's mistress.

 

And fell in love with an English Lord...

 

Roc knows the first time he watches her play the fiddle and dance around the pub, she will be his next mistress. Despite her protest, he will find a way to convince her that her place is with him. While Caitlin's determination to keep her vows, fate takes a cruel turn and she is forced to seek refuge with Roc.

 

 

EXCERPT: Caitlin's Duke

“You say things that confuse me,” she told him as she stepped over a large rock, lifting her skirts high enough he could see more than just her ankles.

He recalled a short glimpse of her legs earlier today when the dog knocked her over, but he’d uncharacteristically averted his gaze.

“If you were wise to the world, they wouldn’t confuse you, but I like you just the way you are.”

They stepped onto the sand, water whirling only a few feet away. She sat down on a rock, taking her shoes and stockings off. With her skirts lifted, she waded far enough for the water to cover her ankles and splash against her knees.

“Oooo, It’s cold.” Cat ran backwards away from the water then followed the tide out a ways. “You want to join me? Or are you too much of a coward to get your feet wet?”

The simple query gave him reason to pause. He was sure his grin spread from ear to ear. He couldn’t remember the last time he played in the waves. It seemed his life over the last ten years had been a bit stoic even though he’d faced life-threatening danger more than once. “Like watching you better.”

“Chicken,” she said, kicking up the water so the spray filled the air around her. “You will get used to the cold.” She turned toward him.

“Don’t want to get used to numb feet or wet pants. If you don’t watch yourself, you’re going to get all wet.” But he definitely didn’t believe he’d ever get used to seeing her ankles. They were so slim, tiny and her feet were narrow as were the muscles of her legs. A ragged breath caught in his throat as he imagined seeing other parts of her. Bloody hell, he had to stop thinking this way. When he was with her and even when he was not, it seemed his body was in a constant state of arousal.

A large wave caught her by surprise, reaching past her knees. She turned to run but not before her dress was soaked nearly to her waist. He stepped into the receding water, heedless of his perfectly shined Hessians, drawing her into his arms and striding to dry ground.

She was laughing and the sound was contagious. He sat on a large boulder, holding her close, their laughter echoing in the small area.

“You’re all wet?” He brushed her hair away from her face, taking the moment for a quick kiss.

“And your boots are most likely ruined.” She laughed, touching his lips with a fingertip. “Do you care?”

“My boots are meant to protect my feet, and they did the job perfectly. But your dress...” He paused before committing to his next words. “You’re going to have to take it off and let it dry or you most assuredly will catch cold. See, you’re already shivering. I can give you my jacket.”

“I can’t take off all the layers, so I might as well leave the dress on,” she told him, pushing slightly away as if she meant to see into his heart and soul.

If she did, she might find him lacking in too many ways to count. “I’ve an extra shirt and a pair of buckskins in the carriage. You can put those on while your dress and petticoats dry. I don’t want to take you home before the sun slips below the ocean. I won’t let a soaking wee dress ruin the day I planned for us.”

“They will be huge on me. How will I keep the pants up?” She set her hands on his chest.

“I’m sure I’ve got something that can be used as a belt. Otherwise, you’ll have to wear just the shirt and that won’t keep you warm either. As I said, I’d rather not end this outing before we’ve watched the sunset,” he repeated. Truly, there were too few alternatives here. He tugged on the leather thong holding his hair back.

“I’m really not cold.”

“No, of course you’re not. That’s why your lips are blue and you’re shivering so hard the quaking would wake the dead. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it’s an earthquake upon us.” He wrapped the leather around her waist. “Plenty to spare so you can keep the pants from falling down.”

“I am a bit cold,” she tried to stand but he swept her into his arms and strode up the path to the carriage.

“I can walk.”

“But I adore holding you.”

 

 

“Cat. Cat! Wake up. I want to show you something. I know it’s late but you’ve just got to see this. Cat.” Roc called, banging on her door eager to show her the shooting stars. He’d never seen so many sailing through the sky at one time. He looked in the window to see if he woke her.

“Roc?” She sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she stumbled sleepily from the bed to the door. “You’re back. Is that you?”

“Only an hour ago.” He stepped inside the now open door. “Put your coat on and come. Never mind.” Grabbing a quilt off the bed, he wrapped it around her. “You always sleep in wool socks?” he laughed, wondering if she would do the same when she slept in his bed.

“When it’s cold, they keep my feet warm.” She sounded miffed and defensive to him, but he didn’t care. He was so happy to see her and have all his business deals wrapped up. He was going home in the morning and he hoped she’d go with him, but even if she didn’t, he’d come back as soon as he shared all the details of his mission with his boss.

“I’d like to keep your feet warm,” he blurted while he swept her into his arms and made his way down a path to a rock wall overlooking a field. “I saw these on my way home and knew you had to see this dazzling light show.”

Beast woke up and danced around the couple barking and seeming to cry out, Look I’m here. Pet me. Get me out of here.

For a moment he set her aside to pick up the dog. “You best behave or I won’t take you on another outing with your mistress,” he told Beast, roughing his ears.

“What are you talking about?” She snuggled against him and he guessed it was for warmth more than anything. The night was a cold one but clear which made this meteor shower more impressive.

Beast followed them, prancing around Roc’s feet then racing ahead only to return a few minutes later. He was so full of energy, Roc realized he must have spent most of his time in the pen.

Gently, he set his precious cargo on the stone fence before sitting down beside her. He pulled her close, making sure the blanket covered her. “Look in the sky and make a wish.” He pointed heavenward.

“Why?” She sounded petulant as well as sleepy. She rubbed her eyes, staring into the night sky.

“It’s a meteor shower. Most people call them shooting stars, but they aren’t stars at all.” He watched in awe as the show continued.

Beast stood on his hind legs, begging to be picked up but there was no room on his lap. “Lie down, Beast,” he told the dog who didn’t obey.

“What are they?” she asked, finally seeming interested in his excitement over rocks falling towards the earth.

Beast finally settled at his feet, his head resting on one foot. The dog would be loyal to her and possibly to both of them. He could only pray the animal wouldn’t have to prove his loyalty.

“They are,” he paused, thinking about Cat and all she meant to him, “what we call meteors, but they are really rocks falling through the earth’s atmosphere. The heat so far above us sets them on fire. Now make a wish and it’s sure to come true.”

She looked for seconds upon seconds and he didn’t know what she was thinking, perhaps she was wishing to come with him. Well, all she had to do was say the words and he’d have her on his ship in the morning, and they’d say goodbye to Portrush together.

“Did you make a wish?” she asked, finally smiling when she looked at him. “I did too.”

“Good, are you warm enough?” He tucked her in closer to his side. “Tell me what you wished.”

“My nose is cold.” She laughed, what about yours? “Nope,” she said when she touched his. “Can’t tell a person your wish or it won’t come true.”

Holding her close and watching the stars shoot from the sky was the best thing, he’d done in a long time. Their visit to the beach five days ago had been fabulous, but sharing something that he was excited about with her was heaven in disguise. He needed to savor this moment with her, keeping it tucked inside his mind.

“Can’t say I’m sorry I woke you but...” He didn’t want to tell her he was leaving with the morning tide. Didn’t think he stood one chance in hell of talking her into leaving with him, but he did need to know if anything happened during the week he’d been gone.

“I’m glad you woke me up. I was dreaming of you.” She picked up his hand in hers.

Surprised by the simple gesture, he thought perhaps his cause was better today than when he left. He spread his fingers wide, measuring her hand with his. So tiny, exquisitely delicate and fragile, she didn’t think of those as her characteristics, and she was too bricky for his taste. She’d take on the world alone with her fearlessness. Then he let his fingers entwine with hers, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing the back of hers.

“Does that mean you might change your mind about leaving with me?” He knew it was too soon to ask her, but he supposed the answer would be the same now as it would be an hour from now. They really only had a short time to figure this out.

“Honestly, I want to be with you but I can’t become your mistress. The position is not one I would...I have to feel joy and happy about my choices. I would always regret that decision. I will miss you though.” She leaned into him, her hands wrapping around him.

His heart fell for a few seconds. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear but what he expected. “I’m leaving this morning on the tide, only a few hours from now. If you change your mind...” He could always hope. After all, that was his wish, that she come with him.

Pushing away for a moment, he looked into her blue-violet eyes. She had the most unique and beautiful eyes, but when she leaned into him again, he felt the silent sobs of pain. “I understand. I’ll never see you again. I suppose it always had to be this way.”

“I will come back.” That was a promise he intended to keep. After debriefing he would have little to nothing to do with his life. His shipping company as well as the farms they rented pretty much ran themselves. The men his mother had hired were among the most competent in all of England. He’d told Cat he wanted peace and quiet, but what he craved was her beside him, sharing his life.

“But not to stay, just to try to convince me of something I just can’t bring myself to do.” She brushed away the new tears that had fallen. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

As if Beast agreed with her, he stood and let out a low growl as if he sensed something was wrong.

“If you turn down this offer, you might find yourself wed to Blair. Ida told me some things before I left. I don’t like what he has planned for you. It just doesn’t bode well,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to resort to bad news to convince her what was best for her.

“I won’t marry that man, ever,” she said softly, so softly he had to bend closer to hear the words. “He’s detestable and I know he’d hit me every time he got drunk, which is every night.”

“If you stay here, you might not have a choice, He’s a powerful man who is more than willing to wield that authority to get what he wants,” he warned, wishing there was some other way to tell her that her options were limited.

“I think we’ve had this conversation before.” She stood, “Come, Beast, we’re going home,” but it seemed she realized she wore only socks and no shoes and she sat back down.

Looking forlorn and a bit lost, she looked to him, more tears filling her eyes. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. He wanted to kick himself for hurting her, but short of marrying her, there was nothing he could do.

When he first looked at her feet and realized her attempt to leave failed, he almost laughed at her expression but held it back, telling himself not to add insulting her to her misery. “I’ll be pleased to carry you. That way I can hold you closer to me and your socks won’t get wet.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to carry you. Come, Beast.”

Beast became more alert and looked at them when he heard his name and started homeward, leading the way as if he was the king and they were his ever-faithful followers. Once inside, Roc closed the door with his foot and let her slide to the ground against his body.

Beast growled at the partitioned room, but Roc ignored him, thinking the animal a little bit ornery for the late night. Still holding Cat, he opened the pen for Beast. “Go on, get inside and go back to sleep. This adventure is over.” Beast trotted into the pen then lay down, closing his eyes.

Then turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, “Mon petite chatte,” he murmured against her ear. In his arms she completed him, felt like heaven to his heart and soul.

Her quilt slowly slipped off her shoulders. His hands rested on her perfectly formed buttocks, unable to stop himself and needing to feel more of her than he’d allowed himself before, he wound the cloth of her nightdress in his hands until he could touch her, feel her silken flesh the way he’d wanted to for so many weeks now he couldn’t remember.

 

 

Website URL: http://christineyoungromancewriter.com/

 

Blog URL:  http://christineyoung-romancewriter.blogspot.com/

 

Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/Christine-Young-350132315013316/

Twitter handle: https://twitter.com/achristay

 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/christine-young-5a991c21-1f11-47a0-ada5-6c2e6b689cbe

 

 

LINKS

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Caitlins-duke-Christine-Young-ebook/dp/B081739L8Z/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Caitlin%27s+duke+Chrisinte+young&qid=1573573324&sr=8-1-spell

 

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/aidans-love-chirstine-young/1132835336?ean=2940161187739

 

Apple: https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1484810412?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Caitlin%27s+Duke+by+Christine+Young&type=book

 

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Christine_Young_Caitlin_s_Duke?id=Po24DwAAQBAJ

 

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/caitlin-s-duke

 

Short Blurb:

 

She played a fiddle in an Irish Pub and fell in love with an English Lord. Caitlin O'Shea is wise enough to know Roc Leighton desires her but will never give his heart to her. Caitlin has vowed to never be any man's mistress, but fate takes a cruel turn and she is forced to seek refuge with Roc.

 




Sunday, August 30, 2020

#RomanceSunday #CatchingMera


Author: Christine Young
Genre: PARANORMAL Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 5



BLURB: Catching Mera

Meara Thorton was a feisty, world-class computer hacker—cornered by the FBI and shockingly given the chance to be their newly acquired technical analyst.  Brilliant and intuitive, yet aching with the loss of everyone she has cared about, her restless heart led her to discover a love she fought and a world she didn't know could possibly exist.

Jace McKenna was an enigma, a loner, impossibly handsome, sincere and committed. The Apache shapeshifter blood running through his veins burned hotter than the blistering Sierra Madre sun. Jace knew the moment he caught Meara's scent she was his for eternity. 

Review: Catching Meara


"Catching Meara is a superbly written mystery that draws readers in and makes them a part of the team. The characters are vivid and provide a perfect canvas for the life of a unique team that catches some truly nasty villains. Ms. Young provides a perfect blend of paranormal, mystery and romance providing the reader an entertaining adventure."
Rating: 4 cups out of 5





Three more cops followed behind. No, they were government agents. The logo printed in white across their chest announced their profession.

Bright lights swept the room in a slow steady arc, searching for her. Finally resting on her face, she shielded her eyes. Smoke from the crucified computers filled the cubicle, making the agents choke. Sweat from fear beaded on her forehead, and her heart lurched to her throat. She closed her hands over her heart as if she could slow the furious beating.

"Hewitt, check this out. There might be more than this one. Barrister go search through the other rooms."

"Right, McKenna."

"My name is Jace McKenna," the man said as he approached cautiously, kicking debris from under foot until he stood above her. "Put your hands in the air." 

His voice held so much authority and sounded so calm. For a moment she thought he meant to reassure then she remembered she was his prisoner. Well, she would be as soon as she complied with his demands. 

Jace appeared dark, dangerous, handsome and tall, she noted at first. Very tall, which was hard to miss, since she was skinny and short. His eyes were an amber color with a hint of green. He towered over her. Beneath the deceiving bulkiness of his bulletproof vest, she observed next, his shoulders were very broad, and though his hips were lean, his thighs, tightly hugged by his jeans, were muscled and powerful.

His hair was blacker than the midnight sky, nearly indigo with its sheen, his amber eyes were cast into a rugged face that appeared naturally tanned. He was probably somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. He seemed fierce, alive with a striking tension and a volatile energy that seemed to exude from him.

Shaking, sweat dripping down her face, Meara slowly raised her trembling arms. "D-don't shoot--me, please" She heard the pathetic whimper in her voice as she blinked the stinging sweat from her eyes where it melded with her mascara. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would burst through her ribs.

"Stand up, slowly." He swept the flashlight as well as the gun up and down the length of her body, which had been curled into a tight fetal position.

Rising to her feet, she leaned against the wall behind her, trying to keep her hands up and not fall flat on her face. She wiggled her butt against the wall and inched her way to a standing position. Her life flashed in front of her in a series of leaps and bounds until she saw the faces of her parents. 

"Do as he says," they whispered. "Everything will turn out fine. You'll see. We love you." Then, just as they appeared, they vanished.

Their faces faded into the smoke and flashing lights. Her eyes open wide, she gazed at her enemy--her jailor. The man who was here to arrest her. Mind games, or was it mind think that her parents used to play with her, teaching her to communicate through thoughts instead of words. She focused on his brain, sending out feelers, trying to read his thoughts and trying to tell him she was no threat.

The next moment he was beside her, grasping one of her arms, and in one swift move he had turned her, both hands were behind her back and handcuffed. Her breath stopped for a moment. The movement had been so sudden she was thrown against the wall. Her face flattened on the smooth surface. Yet she was glad for that because the impact brought her back to the reality of this moment. Her mind cleared for a brief second. For courage she inhaled a swift deep breath.


Manic Reader Review 
Rating:  4 1/2 stars out of 5
Reviewer: Alberta 
Review: 

Meara is a loner, content to spend time with her computers, without the bother of having too many people around her. When she turns from hacker to government computer specialist, she meets Jace, who knows she is his mate, but all he has to do is tell her he is a panther shape shifter and that she is destined to be his.

There is a lot of dodging bad guys, dodging another shape shifter, and trying to keep secrets from each other. In the end, Catching Meara is pretty entertaining, and I liked both characters, despite Meara’s dysfunctional personality.





Saturday, August 29, 2020

#SciFiFantasySaturday #BewareTheBones


Title: Beware the Bones
Author: Daniel Lance Wright
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Contemporary
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3



TAGLINE


BLURB: Beware the Bones

Forty-three-year-old archaeologist, Jasmine Chandler, is decimated by an abruptly failed marriage and throws herself obsessively into her work. Meanwhile, several hundred miles away on the California coast, retired oncologist, Lowell Strudemeyer, struggles against his own demons by drinking and surfing with an apparent death wish. With help from her friend, Barbara Sullivan, their worlds collide over an ancient burial site and it takes a little magic for these two people, Sweetpea and The Strude, to confess their obvious attraction.


EXCERPT: Beware the Bones

Becoming concerned that the trip may have been wasted time, she backed away and thought,now what?
The only thing left to do was walk around to the back of the house and check there. But before she could take a single step the front door swung open with a jerk and whoosh. There, swaying side to side, was a man who appeared drunk, just past middle age, sporting a scruffy five or six-day growth of salt and pepper whiskers, red eyes framed in dark circles and thick shoulder length unruly silver hair. Sort of a James Brolin meets W. C. Fields look. But that silly smile is Clark Gable for sure.
Straightening to a formal posture, “I’m here to see Mister Strudemeyer. Is he in?”
The man grinned and swayed.
This guy may have broken into the Strudemeyer home and, maybe, even harmed the doctor. She took a tentative backward step.
“I’m sho shorry. The doctor is dead.” He dropped his head with a pitiful sad look.
She took another step back becoming out-right scared. “When...did he die?”
“A few sheconds after I told the hospital board I was retiring.” He snickered, blowing spit from between pursed lips. He stabbed the air with an emphatic finger. “I am a phoenix. From Doctor Strudemeyer’s ashes rose MishterStrudemeyer.”
Jasmine flushed with anger. “Doctor...Mister Strudemeyer—”
“Call me Lowell.”
Ignoring the request, “Mister Strudemeyer, I’m here as a representative of the archaeology department from the University of Southern California. I have a release form—”
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
“My name is Jasmine Chandler and I prefer you not call me darling.” Like most men, he was rude, arrogant and, on top of that, soused. Suddenly, it occurred to her, an angry response might jeopardize getting his signature. Taking measured breaths, she closed her eyes and recomposed. “Look, all I need is for you to sign this release form. “Would you please read it and—”
“Jasmine is shuch a beautiful name.” He stared off into space over her head and leaned against the door jamb. “Jasmine...shuch a shweet smellin’ flower.” He sucked in a large breath, as if smelling the blossom.
“Mister Strudemeyer, please. I need you to hear and understand what I’m saying.”
He shook a finger at her. “Do you know what shmells better than jasmine, though? Shwee’pea...the most divine of all fragrances.”
“Sweetpea...you’re trying to say sweetpea.” Like it or not, she was drawn into an unwanted conversation. She folded her arms in the first challenge to his less-than-courteous attitude.
“That’s what I shaid.  Shwee’pea.” With a finger that seemed to float unattached, he pointed toward the unkempt mass of blossoms around the fountain. “If you don’t believe me go shmell for yourself.”
She glanced back. “I just came from over there and I know what it smells like. I’ll not be sniffing it again.” She took an aggressive step forward to press her cause but his liquored breath hit her in the face before she could speak. “Maybe the stench of the fountain wasn’t so bad after all,” she muttered twisting her head to the side and returning to her beginning spot on the porch. “Mister Strudemeyer, I’ve driven over an hour to get here for a simple signature. Would you pleaseextend me the courtesy of just one minute to explain why we need it?”
Swimming eyes that couldn’t focus was all she saw. He probably didn’t comprehend the question.
Jasmine’s rosy cheeks darkened. She bristled, moving closer to losing control. Lack of alternatives propelled a worsening attitude.
The drunkard responded out of synch. “May I call you Shwee’pea?” He leaned his head against the door jamb in a mock show of adoration.
Inevitably, it happened. She redlined and hit that point of no return, barreling toward an angry explosion.
“No sir! You sure as hell may not call me Sweetpea, or darlin’, or—or any other pet name that tumbles out of that liquored-up brain! My name is Jasmine Chandler and you, sir, are a drunken, arrogant ass!” She leaned in and got in his face. “Care for me to repeat that? You’re a drunken arrogant ass!”


Author Bio:
A lifelong Texan, Daniel Lance Wright is a freelance fiction writer and novelist born in Lubbock, Texas now residing in Clifton, Texas. He lives with Rickie, his wife of 46 years, has two children, and four grandchildren. Having spent the first nineteen years of his life on a cotton farm on the South Plains of Texas and the next thirty-two in the television industry, he has seen the world from two distinctly different angles. Daniel has received recognition for writing skills from The Oklahoma Writers Federation in 2005, 2006, 2010, and 2011; from Art Affair in 2008; from Frontiers in Writing in 2004; from Canis Latran of Weatherford College in 2011; and from The Indie Excellence Book Awards in 2013.


KEYWORDS
paranormal romance, spirit possession, spirit animal, Olmecs, archaeology, alcoholic


SOCIAL LIINKS

Website URL: (blog serves as website)

Blog URL:  daniellancewright.blogspot.com

Facebook page:  facebook.com/DanielLanceWright

Twitter handle:  twitter.com/dlw1150


Friday, August 28, 2020

#Friday'sFeaturedTitle #APlaceOfLearning


         A Teacher's Story
Author: Catherine DePino

Genre: Fictitious Memoir
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1



TAGLINE

This tell-all book about teaching relates triumphant stories of kids achieving against all odds and staff members who refuse to give up on their students.

BLURB: A Place of Learning


REVIEW: A Place of Learning

A Place of Learning: A Teacher’s Story
By Catherin DePino

Five Stars
Review by Jeffrey Ross
Nothing I write in this brief review can do justice to this quality work. On one level, ATeacher’s Storyis DePino’s loving memoir about 31 years of teaching at different high schools. It is also a review of cultural and pedagogic trends in our society since the late 1960’s. The title is most important—the phrase “a place of learning” is used in many chapters in this book—of course, the easy explanation is that a school is a place of learning. But the text itself is a learning experience—you will learn about the compelling struggles of students, teachers, parents, and staff. You will learn that public schools are a daily work place for teachers-- but also a place of hope for inner city kids who need a break, a refuge, from sometimes very tough family lives. I loved the school restroom conversations among teachers (do you suppose real strategic planning and-team building takes place in the lounge and restrooms?) and the snippets of their personal- life dilemmas. The appendix with school recipes is wonderful. But I think my favorite parts were the sections describing   former students who returned to their schools to check in and share their successes since moving on into adulthood.  Teachers are so important in their students’ lives. In many ways, teachers are the unrecognized front-line guardians of our society’s future—not just in academics, but in character development as well. This should be required reading in teacher preparation classes. It is easy to read, fair, and heartwarming.


EXCERPT: A Place of Learning

There's a picture on my wall, faded now, of my students marching down the aisle of our city's largest university's auditorium where our local high schools stage their graduations. Parents, grandparents, and children wave lollipop colored balloons in the bleachers. Sophomores and juniors jump up and shout out names of seniors as they enter the massive hall in their blue and gold robes. "Sheree, Willie, Jonette..." 
The graduates march slowly down the aisle, right foot first, then the left foot meeting the right, then the left again, like a quaint wedding march. Mendelssohn isn't playing. Instead, it's the Sounds of Blackness singing "Optimistic."
Dr. Leeds strides up to the podium. He doesn't shout out his usual, "Looking good, feeling good, and smelling good." Instead, he tells the graduates how he knows many of them are the first in their families to earn a high school diploma and that the act of their coming to school each day in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, such as teen parenthood, poverty, violence, and drug addiction, is an act of profound courage on their part. 
"So, stand up now and applaud yourselves." He is openly crying and gesturing with open arms to the audience. "Applaud each other."
The crowd waves banners and balloons in a flurry of crayon colors. Restless babies squirm in their mothers' arms and cry out for it to be over. Weary grandparents fan themselves. Dr. Leeds calls the graduates up one by one. He tries to say something personal to each one as he hands them their diplomas. 
"Anna, you come back and see me when you finish community college. Maybe we'll have a job for you here." 
"Demetrius, if I ever need a lawyer, I'll be sure and look you up." He smiles and whispers. "First, you need to go get a new haircut, and get rid of those ugly plaid shirts." 
Demetrius smiles widely. He is proud to be valedictorian.
Next Dr. Leeds moves toward Samuel, who beat up Mr. Parks, the security guard. He speaks in a low voice so the audience can barely hear. "Personally, I don't believe you deserve to graduate, but I'm sending you off anyway. Got no choice. Others need to take your place, but if I see you anywhere near this building, I'll take care of you myself. You hear?"
Dr. Leeds ambles back to his seat, his red velvet-stole draped over his black doctoral robes. Miss Janel, the choir director, approaches the dais. Mothers rub their babies' backs to keep them from crying. Sisters and brothers stop waving their balloons. Relatives stop calling out names of their graduates. Their voices trail off. "Terrelle, Rosita, Malik..." 
Miss Janel's lone alto voice resonates through the hall. "When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high. And don't be afraid of the dark..." 
Everyone stands. We join hands and sing along with her. Dr. Leeds gives the signal, and the graduates begin to stride slowly down the center aisle. 
No pomp and circumstance. No hoots and hollers, merely the hushed bustle of shoes brushing the glossy hardwood floors and voices in synchrony singing "You'll Never Walk Alone.". 
Purple and gold robes blur into sun and sky as the class of '93 marches out onto the city sidewalk and into the world.


AUTHOR BIO:

Catherine DePino, Ed.D, has published 15 books about bullying, grammar/writing, spirituality, and women’s issues. Her background includes a BS in English and Spanish education, a master’s in English education, and a doctorate in Curriculum Theory and Development and Educational Administration from Temple University. The author worked for many years as a teacher, department head, and disciplinarian in the Philadelphia School District. After this, she worked at Temple as an adjunct assistant professor and student teaching supervisor. Catherine has also written articles for national magazines, including The Christian Science Monitor and The Writer. Her self-help book, Fire Up Your Life in Retirement: 101 Ways for Women to Reinvent Themselves, recently appeared on the market. Cool Things to Do If a Bully's Bugging You, debuted in 2016. Visit her website and contact her at www.catherinedepino.com.

REVIEW: 

A Place of Learning: A Teacher’s Story
Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Length: 124 Pages
Rating: Five Stars!
Reviewed by: Jonathan Dimmig

A Place of Learning was a very fun read. It provides a detailed look into the life of a teacher named Caterina, whose career path runs the gamut from rough-edged urban schools to a straight-laced academic magnet school.

Readers get a chance to find out exactly what it must be like to live the life of teacher. There are many highs and lows to Caterina’s story as she’s forced to deal with pressures from crazy parents, kids who are more interested in fighting than learning, and school administrators with impossible demands.  She tackles each challenge differently and both her failures and successes showcase the balancing act that all teachers in this world must attempt to achieve.

Caterina’s passion for teaching in some of the toughest circumstances is simply amazing. Reader’s of DePino’s book will walk away with a true appreciation for what it takes to be a quality teacher in today’s society.  I highly recommend A Place of Learning.                  


Thursday, August 27, 2020

#Caitlin'sDuke #HistoricalRomance


Title: Caitlin’s Duke
Author: Christine Young
Genre: Historical Romance/Regency
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: AmazonBarnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo, Google Play


TAGLINE

Roc Leighton knows the first time he watches Caitlin O'Shea play the fiddle and dance around the pub she will be his.


BLURB: Caitlin's Duke

She played a fiddle in an Irish pub....

Caitlin O'Shea Is the most beautiful woman Roc Leighton has ever seen. With her blue violet eyes and long black hair she captivates him. In turn he mesmerizes Caitlin. Caught in the power of his gaze as he watches her, she is wise enough to know he desires her but will never give his heart to her. Caitlin has vowed to never be any man's mistress.

And fell in love with an English Lord...

Roc knows the first time he watches her play the fiddle and dance around the pub, she will be his next mistress. Despite her protest, he will find a way to convince her that her place is with him. While Caitlin's determination to keep her vows, fate takes a cruel turn and she is forced to seek refuge with Roc.


EXCERPT: Caitlin's Duke

“You say things that confuse me,” she told him as she stepped over a large rock, lifting her skirts high enough he could see more than just her ankles.
He recalled a short glimpse of her legs earlier today when the dog knocked her over, but he’d uncharacteristically averted his gaze.
“If you were wise to the world, they wouldn’t confuse you, but I like you just the way you are.”
They stepped onto the sand, water whirling only a few feet away. She sat down on a rock, taking her shoes and stockings off. With her skirts lifted, she waded far enough for the water to cover her ankles and splash against her knees.
“Oooo, It’s cold.” Cat ran backwards away from the water then followed the tide out a ways. “You want to join me? Or are you too much of a coward to get your feet wet?”
The simple query gave him reason to pause. He was sure his grin spread from ear to ear. He couldn’t remember the last time he played in the waves. It seemed his life over the last ten years had been a bit stoic even though he’d faced life-threatening danger more than once. “Like watching you better.”
“Chicken,” she said, kicking up the water so the spray filled the air around her. “You will get used to the cold.” She turned toward him.
“Don’t want to get used to numb feet or wet pants. If you don’t watch yourself, you’re going to get all wet.” But he definitely didn’t believe he’d ever get used to seeing her ankles. They were so slim, tiny and her feet were narrow as were the muscles of her legs. A ragged breath caught in his throat as he imagined seeing other parts of her. Bloody hell, he had to stop thinking this way. When he was with her and even when he was not, it seemed his body was in a constant state of arousal.
A large wave caught her by surprise, reaching past her knees. She turned to run but not before her dress was soaked nearly to her waist. He stepped into the receding water, heedless of his perfectly shined Hessians, drawing her into his arms and striding to dry ground.
She was laughing and the sound was contagious. He sat on a large boulder, holding her close, their laughter echoing in the small area.
“You’re all wet?” He brushed her hair away from her face, taking the moment for a quick kiss.
“And your boots are most likely ruined.” She laughed, touching his lips with a fingertip. “Do you care?”
“My boots are meant to protect my feet, and they did the job perfectly. But your dress...” He paused before committing to his next words. “You’re going to have to take it off and let it dry or you most assuredly will catch cold. See, you’re already shivering. I can give you my jacket.”
“I can’t take off all the layers, so I might as well leave the dress on,” she told him, pushing slightly away as if she meant to see into his heart and soul.
If she did, she might find him lacking in too many ways to count. “I’ve an extra shirt and a pair of buckskins in the carriage. You can put those on while your dress and petticoats dry. I don’t want to take you home before the sun slips below the ocean. I won’t let a soaking wee dress ruin the day I planned for us.”
“They will be huge on me. How will I keep the pants up?” She set her hands on his chest.
“I’m sure I’ve got something that can be used as a belt. Otherwise, you’ll have to wear just the shirt and that won’t keep you warm either. As I said, I’d rather not end this outing before we’ve watched the sunset,” he repeated. Truly, there were too few alternatives here. He tugged on the leather thong holding his hair back.
“I’m really not cold.”
“No, of course you’re not. That’s why your lips are blue and you’re shivering so hard the quaking would wake the dead. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it’s an earthquake upon us.” He wrapped the leather around her waist. “Plenty to spare so you can keep the pants from falling down.”
“I am a bit cold,” she tried to stand but he swept her into his arms and strode up the path to the carriage.
“I can walk.”
“But I adore holding you.”


“Cat. Cat! Wake up. I want to show you something. I know it’s late but you’ve just got to see this. Cat.” Roc called, banging on her door eager to show her the shooting stars. He’d never seen so many sailing through the sky at one time. He looked in the window to see if he woke her.
“Roc?” She sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she stumbled sleepily from the bed to the door. “You’re back. Is that you?”
“Only an hour ago.” He stepped inside the now open door. “Put your coat on and come. Never mind.” Grabbing a quilt off the bed, he wrapped it around her. “You always sleep in wool socks?” he laughed, wondering if she would do the same when she slept in his bed.
“When it’s cold, they keep my feet warm.” She sounded miffed and defensive to him, but he didn’t care. He was so happy to see her and have all his business deals wrapped up. He was going home in the morning and he hoped she’d go with him, but even if she didn’t, he’d come back as soon as he shared all the details of his mission with his boss.
“I’d like to keep your feet warm,” he blurted while he swept her into his arms and made his way down a path to a rock wall overlooking a field. “I saw these on my way home and knew you had to see this dazzling light show.”
Beast woke up and danced around the couple barking and seeming to cry out, Look I’m here. Pet me. Get me out of here.
For a moment he set her aside to pick up the dog. “You best behave or I won’t take you on another outing with your mistress,” he told Beast, roughing his ears.
“What are you talking about?” She snuggled against him and he guessed it was for warmth more than anything. The night was a cold one but clear which made this meteor shower more impressive.
Beast followed them, prancing around Roc’s feet then racing ahead only to return a few minutes later. He was so full of energy, Roc realized he must have spent most of his time in the pen.
Gently, he set his precious cargo on the stone fence before sitting down beside her. He pulled her close, making sure the blanket covered her. “Look in the sky and make a wish.” He pointed heavenward.
“Why?” She sounded petulant as well as sleepy. She rubbed her eyes, staring into the night sky.
“It’s a meteor shower. Most people call them shooting stars, but they aren’t stars at all.” He watched in awe as the show continued.
Beast stood on his hind legs, begging to be picked up but there was no room on his lap. “Lie down, Beast,” he told the dog who didn’t obey.
“What are they?” she asked, finally seeming interested in his excitement over rocks falling towards the earth.
Beast finally settled at his feet, his head resting on one foot. The dog would be loyal to her and possibly to both of them. He could only pray the animal wouldn’t have to prove his loyalty.
“They are,” he paused, thinking about Cat and all she meant to him, “what we call meteors, but they are really rocks falling through the earth’s atmosphere. The heat so far above us sets them on fire. Now make a wish and it’s sure to come true.”
She looked for seconds upon seconds and he didn’t know what she was thinking, perhaps she was wishing to come with him. Well, all she had to do was say the words and he’d have her on his ship in the morning, and they’d say goodbye to Portrush together.
“Did you make a wish?” she asked, finally smiling when she looked at him. “I did too.”
“Good, are you warm enough?” He tucked her in closer to his side. “Tell me what you wished.”
“My nose is cold.” She laughed, what about yours? “Nope,” she said when she touched his. “Can’t tell a person your wish or it won’t come true.”
Holding her close and watching the stars shoot from the sky was the best thing, he’d done in a long time. Their visit to the beach five days ago had been fabulous, but sharing something that he was excited about with her was heaven in disguise. He needed to savor this moment with her, keeping it tucked inside his mind.
“Can’t say I’m sorry I woke you but...” He didn’t want to tell her he was leaving with the morning tide. Didn’t think he stood one chance in hell of talking her into leaving with him, but he did need to know if anything happened during the week he’d been gone.
“I’m glad you woke me up. I was dreaming of you.” She picked up his hand in hers.
Surprised by the simple gesture, he thought perhaps his cause was better today than when he left. He spread his fingers wide, measuring her hand with his. So tiny, exquisitely delicate and fragile, she didn’t think of those as her characteristics, and she was too bricky for his taste. She’d take on the world alone with her fearlessness. Then he let his fingers entwine with hers, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing the back of hers.
“Does that mean you might change your mind about leaving with me?” He knew it was too soon to ask her, but he supposed the answer would be the same now as it would be an hour from now. They really only had a short time to figure this out.
“Honestly, I want to be with you but I can’t become your mistress. The position is not one I would...I have to feel joy and happy about my choices. I would always regret that decision. I will miss you though.” She leaned into him, her hands wrapping around him.
His heart fell for a few seconds. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear but what he expected. “I’m leaving this morning on the tide, only a few hours from now. If you change your mind...” He could always hope. After all, that was his wish, that she come with him.
Pushing away for a moment, he looked into her blue-violet eyes. She had the most unique and beautiful eyes, but when she leaned into him again, he felt the silent sobs of pain. “I understand. I’ll never see you again. I suppose it always had to be this way.”
“I will come back.” That was a promise he intended to keep. After debriefing he would have little to nothing to do with his life. His shipping company as well as the farms they rented pretty much ran themselves. The men his mother had hired were among the most competent in all of England. He’d told Cat he wanted peace and quiet, but what he craved was her beside him, sharing his life.
“But not to stay, just to try to convince me of something I just can’t bring myself to do.” She brushed away the new tears that had fallen. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”
As if Beast agreed with her, he stood and let out a low growl as if he sensed something was wrong.
“If you turn down this offer, you might find yourself wed to Blair. Ida told me some things before I left. I don’t like what he has planned for you. It just doesn’t bode well,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to resort to bad news to convince her what was best for her.
“I won’t marry that man, ever,” she said softly, so softly he had to bend closer to hear the words. “He’s detestable and I know he’d hit me every time he got drunk, which is every night.”
“If you stay here, you might not have a choice, He’s a powerful man who is more than willing to wield that authority to get what he wants,” he warned, wishing there was some other way to tell her that her options were limited.
“I think we’ve had this conversation before.” She stood, “Come, Beast, we’re going home,” but it seemed she realized she wore only socks and no shoes and she sat back down.
Looking forlorn and a bit lost, she looked to him, more tears filling her eyes. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. He wanted to kick himself for hurting her, but short of marrying her, there was nothing he could do.
When he first looked at her feet and realized her attempt to leave failed, he almost laughed at her expression but held it back, telling himself not to add insulting her to her misery. “I’ll be pleased to carry you. That way I can hold you closer to me and your socks won’t get wet.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to carry you. Come, Beast.”
Beast became more alert and looked at them when he heard his name and started homeward, leading the way as if he was the king and they were his ever-faithful followers. Once inside, Roc closed the door with his foot and let her slide to the ground against his body.
Beast growled at the partitioned room, but Roc ignored him, thinking the animal a little bit ornery for the late night. Still holding Cat, he opened the pen for Beast. “Go on, get inside and go back to sleep. This adventure is over.” Beast trotted into the pen then lay down, closing his eyes.
Then turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, “Mon petite chatte,” he murmured against her ear. In his arms she completed him, felt like heaven to his heart and soul.
Her quilt slowly slipped off her shoulders. His hands rested on her perfectly formed buttocks, unable to stop himself and needing to feel more of her than he’d allowed himself before, he wound the cloth of her nightdress in his hands until he could touch her, feel her silken flesh the way he’d wanted to for so many weeks now he couldn’t remember.


Website URL: http://christineyoungromancewriter.com/

Blog URL:  http://christineyoung-romancewriter.blogspot.com/

Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/Christine-Young-350132315013316/

Twitter handle: https://twitter.com/achristay

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/christine-young-5a991c21-1f11-47a0-ada5-6c2e6b689cbe


LINKS

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Caitlins-duke-Christine-Young-ebook/dp/B081739L8Z/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Caitlin%27s+duke+Chrisinte+young&qid=1573573324&sr=8-1-spell





Short Blurb:

She played a fiddle in an Irish Pub and fell in love with an English Lord. Caitlin O'Shea is wise enough to know Roc Leighton desires her but will never give his heart to her. Caitlin has vowed to never be any man's mistress, but fate takes a cruel turn and she is forced to seek refuge with Roc.