Nicole Locke: Are You Settled Yet?

Are you settled yet?

I can’t say how many times I’ve been asked this question since arriving in the US on the 17th of December. I'm sure people are simply being friendly and making idle chat. I'm sure they don't truly mean it.

Do they mean it!?  Because that sentence is equivalent to asking a new mother if she’s sleeping through the night. Isn’t it just assumed she isn’t sleeping through the night?

There is no way I am settled. What does that even mean? That I have a routine, that I’ve formed habits?

Because I don’t…I haven’t. I’m sleeping, I’m not. The kids are getting to school on time…they’re not. I don’t even leave my bedroom the same way yet.  I can go straight or turn right to get to the kitchen. Which way should I go? Which is faster, convenient, more scenic?

Does being settled mean my house is furnished because let me share some pictures with you. One is of the living room, and the other of my daughter's room.

These pictures are of the house right now. This is after copious amounts of shopping. Way more shopping than I ever care to do. Going to any store once a month is too much for me. Now I have to go food shopping two times a week, plus the hardware store, and the paint store. Don’t get me started on the online purchases. This is…this is death by shopping for me. And what do I have to show for it? Three mattresses, some bed frames, and a few rugs. Oh, I may have bought some bath towels, too.

But that’s all that people are going to see when they come in. They’re not going to see that I had to change my daughter’s rug three times only to realize none of them worked, so her floor is still bare. That her bed frame came, but the feet were all broken and I've been waiting weeks for replacements.

People aren’t going to come into my house and say: 'Nice paperclips and envelopes!' Or: 'Wow, you really agonized over that toothpaste brand didn’t you?'

Because I did. Absolutely. And that’s a story I’ll share another day when my shudders have lessened, and the store clerks aren’t alarmed anymore by the mumbling.

Quite simply, I can’t seem to have a routine if there’s nothing to routine with. My house is bare.

The horror of it is, you don’t know what you need until you don’t have it. Get out of the bath? Need a bath mat. Want to make fried rice? Buy every ingredient except… soy sauce. Have something stuck in your teeth? Well…you get the picture.

We left some things here in our old home, and are now using our new things, but this doesn’t help at all. There are no habits here. This isn’t the same spoon I’ve been using every day for a decade. I’m not turning on the same hob I’ve used for the last eleven years.

And how am I dealing with the fact I seem to have nothing and yet I’m shopping all the time? Not very well.  In fact, I resent it, am frustrated at it. Just want to set fire and start again. Except, I am starting again and have to buy a laundry basket. 

Does being settled mean what I fear it means. That I feel at home?  Because I don’t. Not at all. Not…yet. But I know something is beginning to happen. I found everyday cheese the family likes. And I think for now, that’ll have to be enough.

In the meantime, I'll keep battling and reporting from the trenches of moving house. Has anyone else moved home? Would love to know how you survived!

-- Nicole :-)

To find out more about Nicole Locke, visit her website, and follow her on Twitter.

The fourth book in the Lovers and Legends series, In Debt to the Enemy Lord, is out now! 

“You have a debt to pay. You owe me your life.”

Chapter 1, excerpt
 

Wales—1290

‘I’m going to die,’ Anwen of Brynmor muttered. ‘And why would that be? Because I climbed a tree and plunged to my death. That’s why.’

She circled the giant oak again. The thick lower branches could easily hold her weight. But it wasn’t the lowest branches terrifying her. No, it was the thinnest sprays of green at the top where she needed to go. She could no longer see her hunting goshawk tangled in the highest branches, but she could hear his screeching.

‘Oh, now you need me, do you? It would have been useful if you heeded me when you broke your creance and flew into Dameg Forest.’

She jumped, reached but missed the lowest branch. Her great blue gown billowed heavily around her legs. She quickly began unlacing the bodice.

‘No, I called and called and you just flapped your little wings, trailing your leather jesses behind you. You care now, don’t you? Now your jesses are tangled.’

Finished unlacing, she shrugged her shoulders until the gown pooled at her feet. Shivering, teeth chattering, she stepped out of the material. It was too cold to be in the forest, certainly too cold to be shedding any layers of clothing. At least it was also too cold for many people to be in the forest at this time of morning so there was no one to protest her lack of modesty. Shaking out any mud or wrinkles, she laid the gown gently on a fallen tree. It was her best dress despite the worn hem and hole in the sleeve.

‘I’d leave you if I could, Gully. But we have England’s fine King,

and Gwalchdu’s arrogant lord, who’d order a hand chopping for losing you.’

The tiny hawk let out a wild screech.

‘Oh, you’re for the death punishment as well, are you? It won’t be me who will be punished, it will be Melun. That kind old falconer never hurt you one day in his life. So I’ll fetch you for his sake, not for your stringy neck.’

Stepping closer to the trunk, she crouched low and leapt. She was rewarded with shredding her hands against the bark and falling on her backside in cold, partially frozen mud.

‘Owwww!’

She sat catching her breath, but not able to catch her anger which bloomed up out of her. Punching the mud, she vented her frustration. ‘Why couldn’t I simply go home peacefully? You know I loathe visiting Gwalchdu village with all its perfectly thatched houses and perfectly cleaned streets.’

Thinking of Gwalchdu angered her more. She sprang up and threw mud at the tree trunk. ‘Then you fly off, making more work for me. And now I’m ranting, you rotten bird!’

Jumping, she grabbed the branch with her lacerated hands. Pain knifed through her arms, but she wouldn’t let go. Swinging her legs, she pushed her feet on to the roughened bark. Her grip slipped and fury arced through her.

It was bad enough losing her pride and yelling at a bird. It was worse yet wanting to sulk. And for what? Only so she could compare Brynmor with Gwalchdu? Her home was superior to Gwalchdu and it always would be.

She bit her fingers deep into the bark. She refused to slip. Strongly Welsh, Brynmor had fought to the end of the war against the English and so would she. Pulling up with all her might, she screamed.

 

 

Megan Ryder: Knights of Passion

I’m so excited to be here this month in the company of so many wonderful authors and readers! Let me start by introducing myself. I’m Megan Ryder and I write sexy contemporary romance for Tule Publishing. My first series is all about a baseball team in Georgia and the people who are associated with them. Why do I say people? Well, unlike most baseball series, not all of the books are about the players!

My first book, Going All The Way, featured a bad boy first baseman, Jason Friar, who needed his very own heroine, Stacia Kendall, to redeem his image, only she ended up completely reforming the bad boy!

My second book, Love from Left Field, was all about the team owner’s daughter, miranda, who desperately wanted her father’s approval and to save the team from her father and a takeover. Only, she was the one who fell for the takeover consultant, Lucas Wainright.

But it’s my third book, The Game Changer, that I want to talk about today. Dylan Prosser is a catcher, totally Type-A, focused on the team and the game and nothing else until a scrawny, abused pit bull comes crawling out of the woods and decides that he’s her new human. Dylan has no time for a dog, or anything else, and tries to dump her at a shelter. Before you start screaming, Savannah Monroe enters the picture, am animal rescue advocate who shames him into the keeping the sweet dog and offers to help take care of the dog. In saving the dog, Dylan is saved and so is Savannah.

The Game Changer comes out February 23 and dogs play a featured role in this book, almost taking over honestly. Check out this little excerpt.

Preorder Link: http://amzn.to/2hNo7CS

Visit me at: http://meganryder.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MeganRyder1

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/MeganRyderAuthor/?ref=hl

EXCERPT:

"I never said thank you or a proper hello." He rasped.

"We do believe in proper hellos in the South. That's just good southern manners." Her words were a mere breath, an exhale, as she stared up at him, anticipation shining in her eyes.

"I might need a few lessons in being a southern gentleman."

"You're making a good start."

She lifted on her toes and pressed her lips to his, wresting control of the moment away from him in that instant. Heat blazed deep inside, arousal flaring from the fire that had only been banked from their kiss two days prior, as if it had only been a couple of hours. His hunger for her had only been hidden, tamped down inside, but now it was an inferno, battering at his senses to get out. Her tongue slipped between his lips and stroked his, teasing him, and lust arrowed straight to his groin. He slid his hands down her back and cupped her ass, pulling her more firmly against his hard length. He lifted her and put her on the counter, settling between her thighs. She locked her ankles behind his back, holding him close and she speared her fingers into his hair, pricking his scalp with her fingernails, dragging them over his skin. He shuddered, his hands flexing hard on her hips.

Susan Sands: Cover Reveal

Dear Friends,

I'm so excited to share the new cover and blurb for my upcoming novel, Forever, Alabama! This

Forever, Alabama

book has been a tough one, I have to say. I've written it through busy and emotional times, so it's a victory just seeing it come to fruition.

I believe the story reflects some of the angst I've lived while writing it, so if it's slightly different, that might be the reason. Personal struggle shows up in an author's work, no matter how we try to maintain continuity. There's a little more independent character development, both with the hero and heroine. They've both got some stuff going on separate from the other. But they come together to help one another with the other's struggles and find something special together. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Be there for each other? I hope you'll give Forever, Alabama a try. 

Oh, and isn't the cover fantastic? Lee Hyat, my cover designer did a fantastic job, as did the rest of the Tule team. I can't thank them enough for the time and effort they put into helping my work out into the world.

Blurb:

Everybody loves local attorney and favorite son, Ben Laroux.  Well, at least everybody of the female persuasion–until he meets Sabine O'Connor. She loathes him and makes no secret of her feelings, even when he pours on his famous charm hoping to thank her for helping his family. Ben has never been told no, and if there's one thing he's never walked away from, it's a challenge.    Sabine hopes she’s finally found peace and safety in the small town of Ministry. She’s changed her name to escape her painful past and her shameful family secrets. Ben Laroux is a gorgeous and sexy complication she can’t afford, but also can't resist. However, when her past threatens to derail her present and future, Ben might be the only man she can trust.

I would love to connect!!

Susan

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/SusanNoelSands
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/susannsandsauthor/
Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/susansands/
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Cowboys, Kids and Bull Riding School -- Anne McAllister

Just last week Tule Publishing reprinted a book of mine called The Cowboy and the Kid.  It is the 4th in a series of loosely related books called The Tanner Brothers because the first three were about brothers, and this guy is the best friend of one of them.

Loosely means you don't have to have read the others to make sense of it, but if you do, you'll know more about the people who make up the hero and heroine's world.  Out of my seventy books, it is one that has remained near and dear to my heart.

In thinking about why it has remained one of my favorites, I've decided that it gave me the chance to celebrate bits of my life that I value a great deal -- and it took me out of myself to a place I'd never been, which is always the best part of research.

So . . . what I value:

Cowboys, of course. Goes without saying. I imprinted on one when I was five and the inclination to follow one anywhere still lingers.  Not sure what it is -- maybe the sense of responsibility, the 'try' that means he always makes maximum effort no matter the cost, the  strong/quiet vibe that so many of them do so well. Or, well, maybe it's the Wranglers and the hat . . . but cowboys, especially ones like sinigle-father Taggart Jones, will get me every time.

And kids.  They're very much a part of my world. I've got four -- all grown up now -- and nine grandkids in various stages on the road to maturity (well, one is already there).  And Becky, Taggart's daughter, owes a bit to several of them who are dear to me, in particular to the daughter of friends who was seven when I wrote about Becky and who had every bit of the curiosity and determination and stubbornness that Becky did.  She's all grown up now, too, and I'm thinking she wouldn't make a bad heroine.

And scrapbooks.  I inherited a few scrapbooks from my long-gone relatives, and they inspired the scrapbook at the beginning of The Cowboy and the Kid.  I always loved looking through them and "reading" the story of the person whose life they reflected by reading the news articles and seeing the cards and bits and pieces of memorabilia they saved.  I did one myself in 8th grade to tell the story of Peter Stuyvesant in New Netherlands for a social studies project.  I remembered it when my then editor wanted me to start with something that focused on Taggart (otherwise the book started from Becky's point of view).  It was fun to do.  (There's still an 8th grader somewhere deep inside me).

And small town folks.  Sometimes they can be urban neighborhood folks, of course. But they are the people who live nearby and who feel almost more like family than they do just acquaintances.  They're the ones you can call on when you need a helping hand.  They're sometimes the ones who know you need a helping hand before you know.

And bull-riding.

This is the research part, the part that took me out of my own life and dropped me straight into one I had only seen from a distance.  This wasn't a natural for me, but this kind of research is one of the parts of writing books that I value  more than anything else.

A year or so before this book, I'd done another book -- The Eight-Second Wedding -- and in it there was a bull-rider.  I sort of fell in love with that bull-rider, and in doing research to make him 'real,' I spent a fair amount of time on the phone with a cowboy who taught bull riding "for real."

He was a great resource.  It was a fun experience, so much so that I wished he could be a resource for another book.  He said, "Well, you could write one about a hero who was a bull-riding instructor."

So I did.  And of course, ever the stickler for authenticity, he said, "You should come to bull-riding school."

So I did -- over the Presidents' Day weekend quite a lot of years ago.

Let me be clear: I audited the course. I did not take it for 'credit'  -- I did not ride any bulls. One of the other things I value, besides authenticity, is self-preservation, and I know my limits.

But I did spend three days attending class and watching my fellow students survive -- and thrive -- in the course and in the arena.

I came away with a great appreciation for what it take to put yourself out there, for the commitment and the determination, for all the tiny details that go into making a success of a ride.  Or not.

That weekend was one of the most memorable of all the many bits of life that have turned up in my books. And that bull-riding instruct or was one of the most helpful, insightful cowboys  I've had the pleasure of following around for three days (and it wasn't just the Wrangers and the hat).

Putting it all together afterwards, and finding the heart of the story in all the details from so many places and people, made it one of the most enjoyable books I've written (sometimes I tear my hair. OFTEN, I tear my hair.  But not on that book).  It was even fun to go back through it and touch it up a bit.

The first book in the Tanner Brothers series, Cowboys Don't Cry is available for free for a limited time as an ebook in a variety of formats.

Check it out at your favorite online bookseller if you like cowboys who don't (as another former editor said) "own multi-national corporations on the side.  In other words, there are no billionaires in this series.  Sorry about that!

Book 5, Cowboy Pride, will be released February 13, and can be pre-ordered now.

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