Excerpt link: http://momsday.blogspot.com/2015/03/have-you-lost-your-mind-excerpt-from.html
Read the first chapter here: http://drb1stchp.com/2015/04/losing-who-by-cynthianna/#comment-3012
Driving in England
by Cynthianna and A J Matthews
Read an excerpt from the first chapter at my blog: http://momsday.blogspot.com/2015/01/driving-in-england-now-available-from.html
Coming from Desert Breeze Publishing:
Country Boy, City Girl
Read an excerpt at: http://momsday.blogspot.com/2014/05/down-home-lovean-excerpt-from-country.html
"Readers will not be disappointed...You will be
rewarded with a down home love story that will long be
Coming from Desert Breeze Publishing:
Preachin' to the Choir
A love story of "heavenly" proportions!
Preachin' to the Choir
A love story of "heavenly" proportions!
Confessions of a Blonde Writer blog.
Click here to read another excerpt at my blog.
Read an excerpt (and an explanation) at my blog:Click here to read!
An exceptional writer with a flair for humor. --Romance Reviews Today
The man...the magic...the movie? Screwball romantic-comedy meets the world of Doctor Who fandom. Cici Connor's life will never be the same when she takes John Smith, a mysterious Brit, into her bed and her life begins to change... possibly for the better. After all, how many alien assassins tracking her does one girl need?
A wonderful book, with galloping pace and excellent characterization, and laden down with more Who-ish in-jokes that a city full of sci-fi conventions, Loving Who is a story about fans; being a fan, spending time with fans and, from the Doctor’s point of view, having fans … a book that touches you where you live, but also one that you can wholeheartedly recommend to those friends of yours who “just don’t’ get” the show itself, no matter how many times you make them watch Aliens of London. A second instalment is promised. We’re waiting. – Dave Thompson
An excerpt from Loving Who
That's how it all began. A week later, 'John Smith' sat next to me on my slate-blue sofa with a bowl of microwave popcorn balanced on his lap. His eyes seemed glued to the TV screen as if it was the most wonderful invention to come to St. Louis since the introduction of microwaveable toasted ravioli.
“The crazy things that bloke gets up to,” he murmured as the credits began to roll on the third episode of the latest series. “Quite unbelievable at times.”
I laughed. “That's why it's called science fiction. It sure the heck isn't science fact.”
Suddenly those big brown eyes of his bore into mine. “You enjoy studying the sciences, don't you?”
I swallowed hard. How did he know? I nodded automatically. “Yeah, sure I do. I didn't get a chance to study any science in depth in college, but I've always had a layperson's fascination with all things astronomical.”
“Yes, I noticed your Amateur Astronomer certificate on the wall when we came in. It hangs beside the bookshelf containing an astrolabe, a year's worth of Sky and Telescope, and the hardback edition of Stephen Hawking's' A Complete History of Time.”
Whoa. This John Smith was much more observant that I had credited him. Here I thought for the last three hours he'd been simply enjoying my TiVoed episodes of Doctor Who. Instead, he'd been scoping out my apartment.
“You know what an astrolabe is?” I wondered aloud. Most of my friends had mistaken it for an unsually shaped, miniature telescope.
He frowned, puzzled. “Of course I know what an astrolabe is.”
A chill raced down my spine. Perhaps bringing this handsome stranger home hadn't been such a good idea after all…
“Is your fascination with the heavens why you've become such a fanatic over a television program about a time traveler?” he asked.
I blinked, but still I found myself glued to the spot. “Partly. Mostly it's pure escapism for me. I have to have something in life that will rescue me from this dreary existence occasionally. Doctor Who is a godsend.”
“Even when it went off the air for a decade?”
“Even then. There were the books, the conventions, the awful TV movie and the fans. The fans are the best. I've met a lot of lovely Doctor Who fans over the years. They've cheered me up enormously when I was down and out between jobs and husbands. When Southwestern Bell transferred me here from Dallas I didn't know a soul, but the local fans soon became my family. I'm not alone in the universe as long as I know there are others out there who like the same thing I do.”
“Hmm.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. He seemed to be seriously contemplating my heartfelt disclosure. “Then why do you frequent dodgy establishments such as the place I found you in earlier today?”
I blushed and averted my gaze. It was time to spill the beans, to let him in on the underlying motivation for bringing him back to my place. I suddenly felt ashamed of my actions. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Cici? Is there something you'd like to tell me?”
His voice sounded soft, yet demanding. He placed a hand under my chin and tilted my face until his penetrating eyes meet mine once more. My heart began to race and my breathing became ragged. His prying eyes continued to probe the depths of my soul. Every fiber of my being burned with a desire to make a clean start of our relationship.
“Okay, you caught me,” I confessed with a sigh. “We need you to star in our fan film. You're a dead ringer for the Doctor. My plan involved kidnapping and seducing you, forcing you to stay in town for a while so we could film our friend Sammy's screenplay. He's terminally ill. We want him to see his movie idea made before he passes on. That's all. I promise.
“Zack, man, you look like death warmed over. What gives?”
Zachary Richmond couldn’t explain it. What poor, young man wouldn’t give his eyeteeth to be a sperm donor? After all, the pay for the time spent in the little back room in the clinic exceeded expectations and the reading material rocked. Still, he just didn’t feel right doing it. Keith had it all wrong. This wasn’t the easy way to make it through college.
Keith crammed his stocking cap hard over his short dreadlocks as they exited the plush lobby area, pushing his thick-lensed, wire frame specs back up his nose. He fixed a dirty look at his slightly older foster brother.
“What? You’re giving up now? But it’s so damn easy—and fun. You see Miss September in that issue over by the water cooler? We ain’t ever going to have a chance to snag and hump girls like that, so we’d better just get over it and make some dough to further our education while we read about them.”
Zack sighed. For an A student in computer science Keith Marshall acted clueless at times, especially when it came to the opposite sex. Zack drew his thin jacket closer to keep out the arctic wind gusts that whipped between the tall buildings. He’d be glad when it was spring.
“I don’t want to snag—or hump—Miss September. I want to marry a nice girl from a nice family and raise a couple of very nice kids. And if a woman can’t love me as a poor, working slob… Well, I probably wouldn’t be attracted to her in the first place.”
Keith rubbed his bony hands together then thrust them into the pockets of his baggy jeans. “Sister Mary Agnes would be proud of you, Richmond.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You always were the hopeless romantic type.” Keith threw back his head and laughed. “Remember that snooty rich girl in calc class who wouldn’t even give you the time of day but---”
Whap! Zack torpedoed into the air like a pigeon taking off in front of a Bi-State bus. He flipped over the unseen obstacle and landed in a crumpled heap on the pavement. What the hell did he trip over?
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” came a breathless female voice.
Zack shook his head, looking cross-eyed at the cause of his accident. He blinked once. Twice. He definitely bumped his head harder than he thought on the sidewalk. An angel in the guise of a petite blonde with the brightest violet-blue eyes he’d ever seen stood directly in front of him. She possessed lush rosy lips and dimples nicely framed within a heart-shaped face. Lips perfect for singing praises in the heavenly choir. Lips that looked like they were just aching to be kissed...
“Did you hit your head?” the angel asked.
Zack basked in the warmth of her smile, a smile that easily penetrated the damp chill of a St. Louis winter. The wind tangled her long, straight hair around her camel-colored wool coat, giving her the appearance of a Venus on the half-shell. He blinked again, focusing on the object in front of her. A baby stroller had done him in. Why on earth was this gorgeous creature pushing an empty baby carriage?
“Damn it, woman, you shouldn’t be out with one of those contraptions in this windy weather,” Keith muttered. He offered Zack a hand. For some mysterious reason, Zack found himself unable to move. He lay motionless on his back like an overturned turtle, staring up at the goddess standing in front of him. He couldn’t even breathe.
“Let me help you,” Aphrodite said, bending down beside him. “I am so sorry I ran you over. The wheel thingies sticking out must have tripped you up. I haven’t gotten the hang of driving this baby buggy yet. I’ve got about seven and a half months to go, so I should be able to pass my test before then, huh?”
Then she laughed, a fairy-like giggle with a most interesting twang. Enthralled, Zack willingly allowed the vision to take him by the shoulders and pull him to a sitting position, only protesting when she attempted to pull him to vertical.
“No, please don’t,” He scrambled to his feet. “I’m okay. I wouldn’t want someone in your delicate condition to strain herself.”
The sparkle in her eyes sliced through the gloom of the overcast February day. “How gallant you are. I’m glad the breed hasn’t died out with the Knights of the Round Table. You sure you’re not hurt any?”
Keith snorted. “Only his brain.”
Zack glared at his companion and dusted off the bottom of his nearly worn-out jeans. He felt a bit bruised, but he’d done worse. “Nothing but my pride, ma’am. Here let me help you with your purchases.” He quickly collected the packages off the sidewalk he had knocked out of the stroller and carefully stacked them in the empty seat. “There you go. Be careful in this wind. You need to take care of yourself and the baby,” he said softly.
His eyes met hers, locking in a delicious, lingering look. Their mutual admiration could have gone on forever if Keith’s undisguised rude coughing hadn’t destroyed the moment. It’s for the best, Zack thought sadly, a lump forming in his throat as he spied a gold band on Venus’ left hand. All the good women are married.
from Devine Destinies Books
Adele’s lonely Christmas Eve is made much brighter by the arrival of a mysterious silver-whiskered stranger…
The sound of snow falling off the eaves was familiar to Adele, but something seemed different this time. She threw back the goose down quilt and plunged her feet into icy shoes, grabbing her shawl from the foot of the bed. She glanced at the clock on the mantel as she headed to the front window to see what the ruckus was all about. It was midnight.
Moonlight painted the snow-covered world in a lustrous diamond blanket. The blue-black sky was clear now and only a gentle wind howled across the endless white prairie. Her small home was most certainly encased in a large snowdrift, invisible to anyone but those who knew where to look for it. She scanned the horizon and pulled her shawl closer across her boney frame.
“So beautiful, yet so cold and lonely.” Adele said to Tabitha as she jumped to the windowsill, purring loudly, demanding to be petted. Her owner happily obliged. “You silly thing. You keep me company, but you can’t hold a decent conversation, can you?”
Thump, thump! The sound of snow falling from the eaves startled Adele again. Surely is couldn’t be melting? What else could be on her roof?
“Heavens be!” she gasped. “Could it be ol’ Saint Nick himself?” She covered her mouth with one hand and hugged the shawl tighter against her with the other. “Lordy, no! If I wasn’t sure about losing my mind before, I am now. But, oh, Tabitha—wouldn’t be wonderful if the dear ol’ saint came down the chimney to treat me this one last time?”
Shivering from cold and anticipation, she lowered herself into her chair by the fire, bending to stoke its dying embers. A shower of snow rained upon the glowing coals, effectively quenching their warmth.
“Well, I never…”
A second later another trickle of snow dropped to the hearth from above.
Adele sprang to her feet and strained to look up the chimney flue. “Glory be! Is it really you?”
“Me?” came a deep male voice. “I guess it is. To whom do I have the pleasure of conversing with?”
“Adele. Adele Stougaard.” She stood up and scratched her head. “I thought you knew everyone, Saint Nicholas.”
A jolly laugh then. “My name is Nicholas, but I’m far from being the blessed saint himself. Can you guide me to the direction of your front door, my good lady?”
Adele relaxed. The disembodied voice coming from above was only a lost traveler. She sighed and shook her head, disappointed to think she hadn’t witnessed a miracle.
“Head toward the moon and watch your step,” she called up the flue. “I can see out my front window, so the door should be visible after you climb down from the roof.”
A knock at the door a moment later confirmed her suspicions.