Five months or so ago, in the midst of the very stressful and time-consuming task of forcibly downsizing my parents’ living situation, a wonderful thing started to happen. An opportunity for a full-time job sort of evolved in an industry I left in 2003 and never thought I would re-enter. All I can say is this path felt more clear, sensible, and stimulating than the idea of continuing to write when I can’t seem to earn the support of more than a few people who buy books. So, I’m starting this week on a new/old professional journey.

Local readers often ask if I’m working on the next book. I have a few in my head, in both my existing series and one totally different story, but writing them is another thing. The inclination exists, the love for the written word and my characters is still there. I just can’t imagine I’ll have time. If I choose to continue, it will begin again as a hobby, which is how I started, after all.

Thank you for visiting my blog and website, and for being one of the fans who enjoys my writing. I’m sure I’ll be distracted by this new chapter for awhile. Hopefully, one day, some characters will become so loud in my head that I’ll start to let them out again. And when that happens, I’ll definitely be talking about it here!

Here’s a little more about the story: Loving the Hawke is the first full-length book in a brand new series, The Seven Curses of London. Two wounded souls, a wallflower and a war hero, stumble upon each other time and again in slums and ballrooms, realizing they fight a common cause and share an unbridled passion. Will the curse they fight be their downfall? Or will love win the day?

EXCERPT  Nathaniel Hawke, unwillingly retired captain of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, couldn’t believe his eyes. Considering all he’d witnessed during the Indian Rebellion, the Second Opium War and his military service, that was a considerable feat.

Yet no matter how hard he stared at the cloaked figure speaking with several girls near the bridge, it didn’t change what was happening. A well-to-do woman was accosting several young girls, leaving their factory jobs for a quick meal before returning to work. She was about to ruin an entire week’s worth of reconnaissance.

He’d positioned himself in the doorway of a shop several doors down from the bridge entrance. He’d hoped to identify the men said to be luring girls from their factory jobs with the promise of high wages as a house maid, only to put them on ships to be sold as prostitutes in faraway lands or to serve in London brothels.

Instead, a lady, by the fitted cut of her cloak, was drawing far too much attention by attempting to speak to the young women. What on earth was she about? If one of the men he was trying to find observed her, she would be in grave danger. She might very well find herself on board a ship alongside the girls to whom she was speaking.

Nathaniel waited several precious moments, hoping the woman would proceed on her way. But no. She continued to speak earnestly with the girls. Several more stopped to listen.

That was the last straw. The crazed woman was ruining his chances of identifying the men running this operation, which would allow him to save the girls. Now he’d have to take the risk of revealing himself in order to force her to move along before something terrible occurred.

As he stepped out of the doorway, cane in hand, he once again cursed the damaged leg that caused him to limp. It was the reason he’d been driven from his previous life where he’d made a difference. Its constant ache was an unwelcome reminder that he could no longer protect his men, that he was no longer needed.

He thrust aside the dark thoughts as he tried to decide how to play this particular mission. He’d been forced to disguise himself on various operations during his military career, so while this was nothing new to him, he didn’t care to do draw attention to himself in a place he wanted to return to. Blast the woman.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel caught sight of a man strolling toward the bridge. With his bowler hat and better-than-most attire, he might very well be one of those Nathaniel had been watching for. Double blast.

Nathaniel had nearly reached the woman. Her face was hidden by a fawn-colored bonnet with a ridiculous bow on the side of it. He took an immediate dislike to the ugly thing.

“Excuse me,” he said, with a slight bow. “May I have a word with ye, miss?” He did his best to disguise his accent, not wanting to display his Cambridge education.

The woman turned in surprise as the side of her bonnet had blocked his approach. For some reason, he was stunned by how attractive she was. Large hazel eyes framed by dark blonde lashes and brows regarded him suspiciously. Her alabaster complexion was flawless with the exception of a tiny dent in her chin. “No, thank you.” Her tone was polite but firm before she turned back to the girls.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, but I must insist.” Her refusal made it difficult to hide his irritation. His position as an officer for so many years meant no one refused his orders. At least until now.

She glanced at him again, brow furrowed. Then she looked back at her audience. “Do any of you know this man?”

“No,” they all agreed as they stared at Nathaniel. They seemed to be waiting to see what might happen next.

“There’s no loiterin’ in this area,” he persisted. He gestured with his hand, hoping the girls would continue on their way so he might have a moment with the woman to explain the danger.

The older girls tugged the younger one’s sleeve. “Come along with ye, Alice. This don’t concern us.”

“Wait,” the woman said, sparing a moment to glare yet again at Nathaniel. “If you’re truly interested, here’s the card of the shop I mentioned.”

Alice reached out a cautious hand to take it, staring at it as though it might contain a hidden message. “I don’t know…”

“Think upon it. That’s all—”

Nathaniel snatched the card from the girl’s hand to read it. Madame Daphne. Seamstress. “What is it ye’re askin’ these girls to do?” he asked, allowing suspicion to color his tone.

“None of your business.” The woman seized the card from him then made a shooing motion. As if that would have any effect on him.

“Ye’re causin’ trouble for these poor girls,” he said and turned to glare at them, hoping it would work better on them than it had on the woman. “Leave them in peace.”

“We must be goin’.” The girls eased back, pulling Alice with them, but not before she took the card from the lady once more.

“Wait,” the woman bid them. “I want to help.”

With one last glance over their shoulders, the girls hurried down the street as though anxious to put more distance between themselves and the woman.

Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief. Now he need only get her to do the same. Perhaps his vigil wouldn’t be wasted after all. “If you would—”

“How dare you.” The anger in the woman’s tone surprised him as did the passion that flared in her eyes. But it didn’t sway him from his purpose.

He leaned close, intending to intimidate her, dropping his East End accent. “Do you have any notion of the danger you’re in at this very moment?”

LOVING THE HAWKE is available at Amazon

Amazon Bestselling Author Lana Williams writes historical romance filled with mystery, adventure, and a pinch of paranormal to stir things up. Her historical romantic suspense books include two series set in medieval England and two set in Victorian London.

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Thank you, Lana, for sharing this wonderful first meeting with the readers here! I, for one, love wounded heroes so this is definitely on my TBR pile.

That’s a wonderfully romantic tidbit, and my oldest son’s name is also Peter, though we didn’t pick the name until he was a bun in the oven!

Setup of the scene: Becky Winstanley, mistress to the Marquess of Aldridge, is expecting her protector, who has promised to escort her and her daughter Sarah to Astley’s Amphitheatre as a treat for Sarah’s birthday.

EXCERPT

That was Aldridge now; an unmarked carriage with nothing to distinguish it from a thousand others turning unobtrusively into the mews. Aldridge was as careful with her daughter’s reputation as she was herself, and would not let the scandal sheets pick up on the connection between Rose’s house and the one where Miss Sarah Winstanley lived.

He was early. She crossed to the sideboard where she kept his favourite brandy, and was pouring him a glass by the time she heard his steps in the hall. Two sets of steps? Who did Aldridge have with him?

The other man was as tall as Aldridge, but dark to his fair. He must once have been stunningly handsome, and one side of his face was still carved by a master; subtle curves and strong planes combining in a harmonious whole that spoke of strength and, in the almost invisible network of lines at the corners of his eyes, suffering.

On the other side, dozens of scars pitted and ridged the skin, as if it had been torn and chewed by an animal; an animal with jaws of flame by the tell-tale burn puckers. Thankfully, whatever it was had spared his eye, which, she suddenly realised, was glaring at her.

“Well,” he demanded, and she was shaken anew by his voice, rich and mellow. She had been staring. How rude. But for some reason, she didn’t apologise as she should, but instead blurted, “I was just feeling glad that what injured you spared your eye.”

He looked startled, and suddenly a lot friendlier. “Thank you. I am glad too.”

That voice! He could charm bird from the trees with it. Becky wondered if he sang.

“An unusual approach to an introduction,” Aldridge observed. Becky collected herself and smiled at her protector. “No one is more important than the man who keeps you,” a mentor had once told her. “When he is present, you notice no one else except as it reflects well on him.”

And Becky had never before had her attention so focused on a guest that she had been unaware of presenting her cheek to Aldridge for his kiss, giving him the expected squeal in return for his squeeze, and returning the kiss.

“An introduction would be polite, Aldridge,” she said.

“My dear, you have heard me speak of my friend, Baron Overton.”

Yes. She had guessed it must be he from the description in the gossip magazine that was even now on the desk in her little sitting room. ‘Baron O., who, despite his gruesome scars, seems set to bag the full haul of heads, or should we say tails, he and the M.M. need to win their bet. She looked at him without favour. Another heartless aristocrat tomcatting his way through life without thought of the suffering he left behind him.

But why was he here? She turned to Aldridge in alarm.

“Overton is coming to Astley’s with us,” Aldridge said. He expected her to make a fuss. She knew that mulish expression in his eye. He felt he was in the wrong, he wasn’t going to back down, and he’d feel better if they could fight over it.

Instead, she turned to Overton. “Lord Overton, I am going to assume that Lord Aldridge would not have brought you here if you were not sober, trustworthy, and aware that my daughter’s future depends on no one making the connection between her mother and Lord Aldridge’s mistress. Since my lord clearly trusts you, I will too.” And, her tone said, I will find a way to destroy you if Aldridge is wrong.

The woman might be a whore, but she had the carriage of a queen, and when she lectured him, her eyes flashing, all he could do was mutter, “Yes, ma’am.”

He’d heard Aldridge’s mistress was beautiful, but beautiful didn’t come close. What on earth was the man doing with other women when he had this one in his keeping?

Satisfied with his answer, she was pouring him a brandy, having already handed one to Aldridge. Aldridge was teasing her about the present he had in the carriage for the little girl. He’d dragged Hugh to the shop to pick it up; a doll as beautiful as a princess and a wardrobe to match. Inspired, Hugh had ordered two: one with dark hair for Sophrania, and one with fair hair for Emmaline. They would be ready in a week, the woman assured him. Good enough. His one month of freedom would be nearly up in a week, with just enough time to ride home.

Aldridge, though, was assuring the woman he had a sack full of kittens, or a pair of puppies, or a pet bear. She just laughed at him, telling him that the care and feeding of such a menagerie would be to his cost, and not hers.

Hugh couldn’t reconcile her speech, her grace, her manners, with her being a member of the demi monde. She was unlike any whore he’d ever known. And what was her name, anyway? He hadn’t really been listening; had half thought Aldridge was playing one of his japes. A mistress who couldn’t be called by her mistress name, which was Rose or Pansy or something like that, but had to be called some other name, and treated like a lady in front of her daughter. Surely it must be a joke?

But apparently it was true.

“What am I meant to call you,” he asked, and could have bitten his tongue. He was never this graceless.

“Mrs Winstanley,” Aldridge said, looking over his shoulder, “and if you’re not going to behave, Overton, you can leave right now.”

“Mrs Winstanley,” Hugh said.

And Aldridge nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the woman. “Do you not think Sarah would like a pony,” he asked, clearly wanting to continue his game.

From behind his back, Hugh glared at the uppity female, and she, with no idea of her place, glared back.

END OF EXCERPT

Well, no one likes an uppity mistress or a rude guest, and I have no idea how this will play out. Who is first going to fall in love? For the answer to that intriguing question, you’ll find the pre-order links below, and also several ways to keep in touch with Jude Knight.

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Preorder links for A Baron for Becky: release date 5 August 2015

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/548329

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Amazon  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XWEPZK6?tag=ammbt-20

Barnes&Noble  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-baron-for-becky-jude-knight/1122082381?ean=2940151956215

Thank you Jude, and all our readers, for visiting today.

Normally this blog post features first meeting scenes, but this book is about a couple trying to save their marriage of seven years, so the thrill of their first meeting is far behind them, though maybe the flight attendant will become important? Crash and Burn is part of the Crashing Into Love book bundle now available on Amazon.

In the following scene, Keira Matthews is on a plane heading to Australia with her husband for a second honeymoon at the order of their counselor.

EXCERPT

“I’m leaving you.” His harsh words echoed in her head. Her stomach clenched. Did the gasp come from her lips?

Anger boiled in her gut. Strike back. It’s not my fault. She balled her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms. “You never have time for me. You’re always working. How can we even think about a family with you being gone all the time?” Her words spilled from her mouth like acid. She hoped they burned him.

“Look, I want a family, but someone’s got to provide for them.” His hand reached toward hers. His eyes pleading. “I’ll give it one more try. Let’s see a counselor. I still love you, have for seven years….”

Keira’s gaze slid to the wedding photo on the wall. Seeing the younger image of the man she married, vowed to love forever, she took a deep breath and released the anger. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Okay.” Her voice weak and soft. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Slowly waking, she glanced around the dark, unfamiliar interior. Confusion warred in her mind until she put the pieces together. I’m on a plane somewhere over the Pacific. She looked over at the sleeping man on her left—her husband. How did we get to this point? A romantic second honeymoon never starts with orders to fix your marriage, heal your relationship. I pray it works.

She stretched up and pushed the signal to get an attendant. The soft light and beep echoed in the silent cabin. Why can’t I sleep? Time change or bad dream? She observed the crisp black uniform of the put-together woman approaching her.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I get for you?” Her soft voice with a melodious Australian accent soothed Keira.

“Can I please have a cup of ice and bottle of water?”

The attendant nodded and headed toward the front of the plane.

Keira reached over to the carrier in the seat next to her. Shoving her hand inside, she felt the soft coat of her fur-baby. The gentle lick of a warm, wet tongue on her fingers tickled. “Shh. Don’t make noise, Gris. Everyone’s sleeping. Go back to napping. We’ll be there soon, and you can have a treat.” Another doggie kiss made her smile. My mind won’t turn off. I’m too nervous about flying and how important this trip is to my marriage. Appears as if slumber isn’t going to return. I can’t read without waking my husband. Maybe if I get my drink and let my mind wander, I’ll finally get tired enough to doze off.

“Here’s your ice and water, ma’am.” The attendant handed the items over. “Is there anything else?”

Keira noted her name tag. “Thank you, Julie. How much longer until we land?”

She looked at her watch. “About two hours.”

“I think I’m stuck in Midwest time. Still daylight back home.” She smiled at Julie and set the glass and bottle down on her seat-tray.

“Where are you traveling from?” Julie squatted down to whisper.

“We’re from Ohio. Our first trip overseas. A second honeymoon.”

“I’m sure you’ll love Australia. It’s a beautiful country. Let me know if you need anything else. Hopefully, you can rest again.” Julie touched her shoulder then stood and walked away. The tender contact of another person soothed her. It’s been a long time since anyone’s stroked me, hugged me, loved me.

Once again alone with her thoughts, she turned toward her husband. They’d been married for seven years, and his looks still caused her stomach to flutter. I love running my fingers over his buzz cut. And his rough beard left sexy marks on my neck when we made love…not that it’s happened in a while. A part of the reason we’re on this trip is because of our lack of sex, tenderness. Of course, he’d have to be home in order to touch me.

END OF EXCERPT

You can find Crash and Burn within the Crashing Into Love book bundle at Amazon.

If you’d like to stalk Melissa (her word, not mine) you can find her here:

http://www.melissakeir.com

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www.twitter/melissa_keir

Thank you, readers, for visiting, and thank you to Melissa Keir for joining me today on First Sight Saturday!

In this scene, Gratia has been trying to avoid a woman claiming to be her husband’s mistress by hiding in the darkness of a garden overlooking the Danube River. Her husband, Leo, has been gone with the emperor for over six months—most of their new marriage—and she fears this temptress is part of the reason why. As she hides, she presses herself against the high stone wall, enjoying the warmth left from the day, when a man suddenly steps up behind her and traps her.

“You should not be out here alone,” he said in a harsh whisper. The man smelled like horse and sweat and the thick dust of hard travel.

“Move away,” she squeaked. She could not free her hands nor turn her head far enough to see her attacker.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he rasped as he dared move his body close to hers, close enough she felt a heavy belt buckle press at the small of her back. “Perhaps a lover will meet you here in the dark, far from the light of the torches outside the house?”

“Move away,” she repeated, glad her voice carried more authority this time, though not enough to make the cur step back. What should she do? With what could she threaten him? “My cousin, the Lord of Regensburg, will hear of this!”

“Are you under his protection, then?” The whisper sounded angry now. Good. He should know he assaulted a woman of means, not some unguarded peasant.

“I am a guest here,” she snipped. “I also have a husband and a father who will—”

“Ah, so you do remember you have a husband.”

A shiver coursed down her spine like cold, inky river water as the whisper resolved into a deep voice on the word “husband.”

Her breath caught. “Leo?”

I really love this couple. Each of them is hurt and unsure, and they struggle to find the way back to each other over one tempestuous night.

If anyone would like a free review copy, please email me or comment below.

Love Like A River is available on Amazon for only 99 cents!

BLURB:

What is new bride Gratia to think when her husband’s been gone for six months and a woman claiming to be his lover attends her sister’s house party? Unsuspecting Leo returns eagerly home to a wife who isn’t there. When he finally locates her in a moonlit garden by the Danube, the reunion of these newlyweds sizzles with anger, accusations, and denied passion as each tries to find a path to the marriage they both desire. Love Like A River is Book Six in the Evolution Series set in Charlemagne’s Empire and is a novella of 11,000 words.

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SETUP OF SCENE:  Kali Shaheen speaks to her new protector for the first time unchaperoned. 

EXCERPT

He motioned her to one of Mayuri’s prized Riesener chairs, covered in a puce, satin-band double damask so fine it showed almost no sign of being woven at all. He took a seat on the accompanying ottoman, sitting forward, elbows on his knees, far enough away she would not feel crowded. His face seemed perpetually curious, as though the world could never give him enough answers, even if he could find the right questions.

“You should understand you are not entirely unknown to me.”

Kali had not thought otherwise. Mayuri had told her Lord Fitzmarten had been inquiring after her well-being for months. Not her suitability for intimate congress, not the condition of her maidenhead, not her skill in music or dance—not her price—only her state of health and happiness. He had offered to meet her expenses, even her sister’s, if it would ease Kali’s way in the world, and he had never once asked to interact with her more closely. He had shown considerable displeasure, once with his fists, when other customers at the Masala Rajah had spoken of Kali in vulgar or lecherous terms.

“I had not pushed for an introduction before such time as you were prepared to take on a protector—you were so very young when you arrived in London—but Mayuri has been aware of my interest for some time. I have always found you exquisite, so terribly graceful, and hope very much you might accept my offer of carte-blanche.”

Acceptance was assured once she had given Mayuri control of the negotiations.

“However, it is rather abrupt to arrange contracts without ever once meeting. I do not wish you to believe I see you as merely a commodity.”

Kali spoke more freely than she had ever been taught. “Is that not what I am, my lord?”

Once the words left her mouth, she placed the back of her glove across her lips, as though she could push the thought back in. Her eyes widened when he grinned. His smile really was devastating.

“I do not want a mistress who sees herself as interchangeable with any other, or less than human. I would like to be able to talk to you, not merely take you to bed. Is that something you desire as well, or do you expect to hold yourself apart from me?”

She retreated to the comfort of her training, hands folded in a dainty twist atop her lap. “I can speak on many subjects, my lord. I am well educated, and will, of course, offer my intellect for your delectation, should you choose. It will be my fondest desire to please you in all things.”

He stood and ran his hand through his thick hair, mussing it, then paced to the fireplace and stared right through the Persian vases on the mantelpiece.

“I’m sorry. This will not work. I apologize for wasting your time.”

Kali sucked in a breath and fell back, stunned. When Mayuri had made it known she was entertaining offers for Kali’s virginity, he had offered any amount to be her protector. The contract terms were the most generous of any girl Mayuri had ever placed. Kali was not sure what had made him lose interest so quickly. She had only repeated, word for word, what she had been taught to say as far back as she could remember.

“My lord, I am confused. How have I displeased you?”

He sighed, his hand stopping halfway through his hair. He dropped it to his side before he turned back.

“I am not displeased—as such. Only this is why I have never employed a tawaif for more… formal… personal services before now. If I am to spend a great deal of time with a woman, I would have her engage with me, not tell me what she imagines I want to hear. I will not pursue an intimate relationship based on habitual phrases that leave me no room to understand who you are. The thought leaves me cold.”

“But—” She sat up straight again, as she had been taught. “I do not understand. A gentleman chooses a tawaif for his pleasure, for enjoyment, not… not for… companionship. Not for love. I exist to serve your needs, not force my own upon you.”

As she spoke, she remembered the pain that had consumed her mother every day she had lived without Birchbright. Of all possible futures, that was one Kali would never want. Living without love was her station in life, and this man had no right to try to persuade her otherwise.

She rose to leave the room, trying to leave ice trailing in her wake. “I believe you are right, my lord. I do not think we will suit at all.”

TO BUY THIS ENTICING BOOK AND FIND OUT HOW THESE TWO GET TOGETHER

Amazon: http://amzn.to/19cKUjY

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TO  LEARN MORE ABOUT MARIANA GABRIELLA

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Can I just say the success of this series supports my love of the good guy, especially the complex, tortured good guy? (Please refer back to my obsession last year with North and South. Richard Armitage. O.M.G. I even have fan fiction on Wattpad for that one.) I know that bad boys are somewhat the rage right now with their tats and their pasts completely devoid of love and understanding. But I like me a sexy nice guy.

I’m releasing one to you almost as we speak. In one week, Rhyolite Drifts: Yellowblown™ Book Two will be released with the continuing story of Violet and her slice of heaven, Boone, all on preorder for 99 cents. So grab yourself a handful of Hotness.

Sitting in the truck on the prairie, the night sky blocked by ash, was like sitting in a closed refrigerator, minus the threat of suffocation. Boone reclined in the passenger seat, gingerly exploring the cut and bruise over his eye. At least the lid wasn’t swollen shut anymore. Sneaking over the train trestle bridge with fifty-percent vision hadn’t been the wisest journey he’d ever made. Violet wouldn’t call him Dudley Do Right when she heard about that.

If.

Distance was supposed to break the bond. That’s what had happened with his high school girlfriend, and with Twyla. He’d gone on to the next phase of his life and they’d receded. He wasn’t so cold that he hadn’t worried about their hurt feelings, but he hadn’t been broken. He hadn’t shuddered with guilt in the daylight and woken at night filled with longing.

He’d been alone—solidly alone, without even a friendly conversation at a gas station—for a little more than two weeks and learned he wasn’t very good at it. Especially now, when time and distance weren’t working in his favor.

Leaving Violet hadn’t been a real choice. He’d had to go. He had to find his parents.

A girl he’d only been with a couple of months couldn’t tag along, even if she asked fervently enough to squeeze his heart. This wasn’t a trip to the county fair, after all.

But the damned bond wasn’t breaking the way it should. It wasn’t even weakening.

Rhyolite Drifts on Amazon

If you need to start at the beginning, Eruption is also on sale. You can find the purchase links here.

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As services are disrupted, Violet Perch uses her bike to deliver mail to her rural neighbors and steal some alone-time for her sanity. She sees the flag up on the mailbox at a house she’s never stopped at before, and is pretty sure the note in the box requesting she come to the slightly creepy house to get a message is just a ploy to lure her into the clutches of serial killer.

I left my bike by the road as a signal that Violet had been here. That way if the cell towers were down and my phone’s GPS failed, the homicide detectives might know where to find the blood spatter with their black lights. Were forensic scientists still employed? I wondered this as I shuffled through the dead leaves in the driveway. It would actually be a great way to evaluate careers. How would such a proficiency test question be worded? “Is it important to you your career remain viable through an apocalyptic event?” Perhaps if I survived the next quarter hour, or the next year, I would take a serious look at who still had jobs and then go get training for whatever they were doing.

As I mentioned above, books one and two are both on sale for 99 cents, so it’s a great time to get started with the Yellowblown™ series. Eruption: Yellowblown™ Book One is highly recommended to be read first, and was a BTS eMag Red Carpet finalist in 2014.

You can find Eruption: Yellowblown™ Book One here:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MRHAIRO

Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/eruption-j-hughey/1120343037?ean=9781500866051

Kobo https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/eruption-3

iTunes https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/eruption/id977183578?mt=11&uo=4

Rhyolite Drifts: Yellowblown™ Book Two is available for preorder at Amazon and will be on other vendors on or around May 5, 2015.

Here’s a blurb:

Abandoned by Hotness.

Held hostage by the Yellowstone eruption, I’m stuck at home instead of loving life at college.

Sanity is restored when my college roommate arrives, but I’m still trapped in my hometown with a bunch of people just trying to survive. Some of them are surprisingly interesting, like the HAM radio opera singer lady. Or the pop star who crushes on me while waiting for an air filter for his tour bus.

Unfortunately there’s also my roommate’s gangster little brother who pushes Grandma to her conservative edge, and the local entrepreneurs determined to capitalize on hard times. They tick me off.

Despite all this I’m determined to find a path to the fabled land of Adulthood even if my heart is broken and all the roads are ash covered.

And where the heck did that Nebraskan cattle rancher go, anyway?

Everything is changing but my heart and my hopes don’t want to change with it.

Admit it, you’re hooked. Give the first book a try for 99 cents.

Also, visit the other authors on todays Book Hooks blog tour by using the Click here link below.

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“I’m here to be with you and I intend to keep it that way. I’m not stepping aside for anybody or any reason, unless you tell me to.”

I nodded again, abrading my forehead on denim.

“And even then, I’m gonna put up a helluva fight for you.”

If Amazon did their job, Rhyolite Drifts should be available to preorder for 99 cents at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VGOQ9VS. To be ready for it, you need to get to know Hotness in Eruption: Yellowblown™ Book One.

Make sure to visit the other Hot For Friday bloggers today. You can find them by clicking the little blue frog.

Everybody’s heard of Charlemagne but many of us have no idea why his name has endured through history. Today is Charlemagne’s birthday, so here are some talking points to grow your brain and impress your friends.

1. Charlemagne was born on April 2, 742 or 747 or 748. (Historians can’t agree on which year, and really, does it matter?)

2. He is known as the “Father of Europe” because he united western Europe, essentially conquering what we know as France, Germany, and Italy.

3. His empire is known as the Carolingian Empire, though it only existed from the year 800 to 888.

4. Through his adult life he had four wives and five concubines. Not surprisingly, he had boatloads of children.

5. He was tall, estimated to be six-foot three-inches in a time period when the average man would be in the mid five-foot range. This probably helped him become such an effective leader.