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NOVELLA SALES TO RAISE MONEY FOR CHARITY BENEFITING VETERANS
deMora announced Lone Star Warriors Outdoors (LSWO) selected for yearlong donation efforts.

Author MariaLisa deMora announced the start of a yearlong literary charity effort today. With the help of book bloggers and related social media she intends to raise money to help support the Lone Star Warriors Outdoors nonprofit organization in their efforts to assist combat wounded military veterans.

“Research for a number of my fictional characters led me to interview military veterans from all walks of life. So many of these warriors are struggling with Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), in addition to devastating physical injuries received while serving our country, most with minimal support as they do so,� Ms. deMora continued. “I want to give back in a way that will make an impact at the local level. Lone Star Warriors Outdoors is focused on reconnecting individuals who were injured serving our country with things they once loved: outdoors and hunting. There is an additional benefit to bringing the warriors together for an organized excursion, because they are provided with a priceless opportunity to bond with men who share their service experiences. My family has a strong military history. All his life, my father remained friends with men he’d served alongside during his 22-years in the Air Force. I also saw the instant kinship he would find with virtually any serviceman he encountered. There is a soul-deep camaraderie between men like that, and (LSWO) recognizes and provides an environment where that connection can thrive.�

Ms. deMora began her self-published writing career in 2014 with the release of �Mica,� book #1 in her Rebel Wayfarers MC (RWMC) series. Followed quickly by another several books, this saga has inspired a spinoff series, as well as several short stories and novellas. Her novella, �,� will be the foundation of royalty-earning efforts on behalf of LSWO. With a story centered on the struggles of a combat vet returning from overseas, the book is a natural fit for this charitable campaign.

“I’m an advocate for paying success forward. Or sideways. Or backwards. It’s important to me to ensure the gifts I’ve been given are shared, in whatever fashion. During February 2016, all royalties earned from sales of �Jase,� book #4 in the RWMC series went to support Puck Cancer, a charity that provides assistance to families dealing with cancer diagnosis. That effort was very successful, and I’d like to build on what I learned,� deMora said. “The tie-in for that book was that the main character was a hockey player, which made an easy bridge from the book world to the real one in order to help Puck Cancer. For this one, the hero is a wounded veteran attempting to pick up the pieces of his life back home.�

For the period of one year, half of all earnings from sales of �A Kiss to Keep You� will be donated to Lone Star Warriors Outdoors, a tax exempt 501(c)(3) charitable organization located in Tyler, Texas, near deMora’s hometown.

“Moderately priced, �A Kiss to Keep You,� is on the long end of the novella literary form, both things that readers enjoy. The story’s sweet happily-ever-after ending should be a hit for readers, too,� deMora continued. “Once I had the idea, I sat down and did the math, and saw I could swing it to donate half of all earnings for this book to the charity for at least a year. I’m so glad that Lone Star Warriors Outdoors will benefit from this project. It’s a great cause.�

Starting November 21, 2016, �A Kiss to Keep You� will be sold on all popular book retail platforms including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, and Scribd. $2.99 per electronic copy, $12.99 for paperback. Read more about the story at deMora’s website, .

MariaLisa deMora is a best-selling author of eleven contemporary fiction and romance novels in three series. Her books and stories have topped numerous categories at Amazon, and one short story has been listed in the top-100 of its category for more than a year.

Lone Star Warriors Outdoors mission is to say “Thank You� to our Nation’s combat Wounded and Injured Warriors who have sacrificed mind and body in the fight on terrorism by providing a fun and relaxing atmosphere while introducing or reconnecting and teaching the American tradition of hunting, fishing and other outdoor activities. Second to provide a time of mental healing or therapy by allowing Wounded Warriors to meet others that have been in the same situation, allowing each to talk about issues that only they understand.

Learn more about LWSO charity atÌý

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There’s been a LOT going on since I last posted. I’ve been too busy writing stories and books to do a blog post, but I promise to try and � who am I kidding. If the guys wanna talk, I’ll listen to them � that’s who you want to hear from anyway, right?

So let’s take advantage of their relative silence at the moment to begin with the biggest news ever in the history of big news. A couple of our guys are going to make an appearance in an upcoming book, ³¢¾±±¹¾±²Ô²µÌý°Â¾±³Ù³ó´Ç³Ü³Ù.

I am uber excited to have worked with Lila on this project. Those who know me understand how much I love to read her stories, and to know that my words are going to be included in one of her books is unreal. It’s been an absolute blast getting to tuck little bits of our guys into Lila‘s story, and even being small cameo appearances, I’m thrilled that she selected me to work with on this cross-over effort. I hope you like your little taste of the Rebels Down Under.

Available Nov. 7, 2016, preorders on all platforms:

Amazon:

iBooks:

Kobo:

Nook:

So that’s one thing. Another is that Watcher, Rebel Wayfarers MC #9, is in my editor’s hands. Eeepp! Right now I am sticking to the Dec. 5 release date, but if the stars align we might get to see this book before Thanksgiving! So exciting, yeah?

We follow Michael Otey from age 15 to present day. We get to tag along with him overseas, where he was in the Army, fighting in the war, We see him working construction back in the US. And of course, we get to watch as he matures into the role of president of the Southern Soldiers, taking over from his brother.ÌýI’m hoping you’ll love him as much as I do. He’s been breathing my air for a while now, and I’ve come to decide that he’s an alright guy. One I’d want in my corner, for sure.

Available Dec. 5, 2016, preorders on all platforms:

Amazon:

BnN:

iTunes:

Kobo:

Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ:

Excerpt:

Playlist:

I feel like an infomercial dude. But wait, there’s more!

A surprise novella. How’s that for more?

A Kiss to Keep You is a gorgeousÌýHEA story that falls alongside Watcher’s book in the series timeline.ÌýLove will find a way, and for Brute and Bexley it comes to life standing under the bright lights of a grocery store aisle. ‘A Kiss to Keep Youâ€� is a short, sweet, happily ever after story that you are going to adore.

Richard Monte had it all. A satisfying career in the military, where he took pride in serving his country. He had close friends, good ones, and a goddaughter he doted on. His life was filled with riches, and looked to stay that way for the foreseeable future. All of that was stripped away in an instant, destroyed along with his face in the flash and explosion of a roadside bomb. Struggling to find his way in a new world, one where his very appearance is cause for fear and dismay, he stumbles upon a woman who seems to see beyond the surface, a curvy blonde named Bexley. Her reaction to him is so different, and she offers him an unexpected taste of beauty from her sweetly upturned lips. They seem destined to be together, but a rising danger in a far western state threatens everything he’s worked to build. Not without her own demons, Bexley has to fight overwhelming odds to hold onto the man she’s come to love.

Available Dec. 26, 2016, preorders on all platforms:

´¡³¾²¹³ú´Ç²Ô:Ìý

Barnes & Noble:Ìý

iTunes:

Kobo:

Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ:

Excerpt:

I hopeÌýyou had a chance to read Gun Totinâ€� Annie, theÌýshort story of mine in the Biker Chicks 2 anthology.ÌýDid you know that book was an Amazon best seller? So excited about my contribution to this three-part book series. I hoped you liked the story.

Gun Totin� Annie

Annie lived for her sisters in the club, but she was closest to Coates. They had founded the riding club together, and the women looked after each other. Always. In the search for even greater stability for their sisters, things had gone sideways and Annie had to scramble to find her center when Coates was brutally murdered. Enter Domino, one of the few men who knew enough about her recent errand to warrant suspicion in her sister’s death, but there’s something about him. Something different. So different, that even in this moment of grief, Annie knows it is rare and worth exploring.

Don’t forget about the serial story that I’m giving away in my newsletter. Have you been keeping up with Kevin Hartley’s story, Road Runner’s Ride? The 1st installment is available on my website, but you’ll have to join the newsletter to get access to the rest of the story.

The next newsletter send is 10/17, installment #11, leaving only 7 segments to go in this story! Past installments are available via the “View in browser� link from within the newsletter.

Once She Was Mine

Thumb sweeping across her bottom lip, Kevin was speechless with delight. He was certain it was her. Aurelie. She had matured since he last saw her, but the perfection of her beauty remained the same. Everything he remembered, everything he had dreamed about, right here in his hands. The only thing that marred the experience was the overwhelming terror staring back at him from �

Newsletter signup:

And � I think that’s it for this post. I’ll try to be more faithful in posting, but you know me � Oh, wait. There’s a free holiday story coming out early in December. More on that later!

Muuwah!

Woofully yours,

~ML

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LIVE!!
This Is The Route Of Twisted Pain

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$25 Amazon Giftcard Giveaway

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There’s been a tale rattling around in my head for a while now, ever since I penned Twisted Penny, a short story for the OAMC anthology. George Bell, aka Twisted, has been all up in my face, demanding he get more pageÌýtime, so what else could I do? I’m giving it to him.

Set deep in the bayous and canalsÌýof southern Louisiana, this is turning into a full length novel, and I’m excited to see what y’all are gonna think about Twisted and his petite redhead, Penny Dane. Their’s is not a typical love story, and so full of turns it will be interesting to see how it all winds up.

In the story, Penny has occasion to make oyster po boy sandwiches for Twisted and a couple of men (thanks for the idea, Kelsi). Here’s her recipe, which happens to be one I’ve used many times:

Oyster Po Boys

What you need to buy

Fresh shucked oysters, half a bushelÌýor so depending on what you need to yield in terms of sandwiches. Figure 10-20 oysters per sandwich, do the math yourownself. Can substitute mussels or shrimp, it all works if you can fry it.
Po boy or sub sandwich buns, sliced longways
Creole spices like Tony Chachere’s, Zatarian’s, or King Creole
Tartar sauce
Green onions
Sweet onions
Tomatoes
Red chilies
Lettuce
Oil or grease

Want to make your own creole spices? Easy ’nuff:

Combine a quarter teaspoon each of onion powder and garlic powder. Add a dash pr more of oregano, basil, thyme, black pepper, white pepper, cayenne pepper, and paprika. Salt to taste.

Make your own tartar sauce

Mix two tablespoons of mayo, two of spicy mustard, one of a sweet relish or chow chow. Dress that with some cracked black pepper and a dash of creole spices.

Breading for oysters

One cup white or yellow cornmeal.
Dust that with onion powder (not salt), garlic powder (not salt), and you can crack a little black pepper on that, too.
Find a good creole seasoning you like, dash in to taste.
Mix well in medium bowl.

Preparation

Coat the oysters in the breading and deep fry in a hot grease or oil. I like a light canola, but use what you want.
Split and butter a po boy bun on both sides and toast. Can brush with oil before toasting for extra crisp on that bun.
Dish up your hot, fried oysters, dab on some tartar, add chopped onion greens, fresh sliced sweet onions, sliced tomatoes, diced medium hot red chilies (hotter if you like it that way), and shredded lettuce (if you like greens on your sammmach).

Enjoy!

Woofullly yours,

~ML

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I’ve been playing with an idea about the early days of Mica, how she came to be embraced by the club, and what kind of encounters she might have had. It’s from her point of view, but kinda not, since we know all the players. Some of the guys are talking, and I kinda like what they’re saying. It does start out far in the future, so this is your spoiler alert. If you aren’t up on all the currently released titles, you might want to turn back now.Ìý

Here be monsters �

***

Mica Redux

She leaned her head back against the hard wooden surface of the straight-backed rocking chair. Closing her eyes, she listened to the soothing sounds of the lake lapping along the shore and docks. Seated on the back porch of the house she had shared with her husband for more than forty years, she longed for the sounds of laughter that once rang through the space.

Mica Rupert sat in the sunlight streaming in through the broad expanse of windows facing Lake Michigan and dozed, dreaming of her life.

***

“Seriously, girly, today was graduation. We need to let loose and live a little.� Jess Nalan broke out into song, dancing awkwardly to her own lyrics to the tune of ACDC’s School’s Out. “Graduation day is over. I haven’t had fun in like forever. Our life’s about to cha-hange.�

Mica looked over at where she stood in their shared kitchen. Their dorm rooms had become a place of safety and sanctuary over the past four years, and today was the day they were supposed to be out. Even knowing it was coming, Mica hadn’t emotionally prepared for this. Plans, yeah, she had those, but prepared? Not even close.

“I know,� she told Jess. “Let’s get the last boxes into the back of the pickup and we’ll head out. Chicago, here we come!� Bending over, she grabbed her computer bag and the box of software she had left for last. With one last glance around the space, she and Jess walked out the door and into their new lives.

In the truck on the way to their new homes, Mica laughed at Jess when she continued on her path of party central for tonight. Interrupting her soliloquy on how sober was overrated, Mica told her, “So, there’s this great looking bar not far from the temp housing the realtor set me up in. We should totally go check it out. Jackson’s looks classy, at least from outside.� She’d bought a house, but it wouldn’t be ready until next week, when the furniture her sister Molly was sending up from Texas would be delivered.

“Walking distance from your digs? Hells yeah, that sounds perfect. We’ll tie on a little celebration tonight and see what kind of hottie we can hook you up with because Mica, girlfriend, you need to get laid in the worst way and by worst way I mean best way as in a yelling, screaming orgasm-filled night of fun in your new by-the-week which happens to be walking distance from an uber-cool bar.� She took a breath, then repeated on a shout, “Hells yeah!�

Mica wasn’t going to touch the hottie comment with a ten-foot pole, and Jess knew the exact reason why. She even knew the name of the reason why, Ray Nelms. “Let’s get your stuff unloaded first, then we can head over to my place.� She cut a glance across the cab of the truck at Jess when she asked, “Does Brandy know you’re moving in next to her bakery?� Brandy Still was the girl Jess had crushed on for the last two years. Jess had been unusually recalcitrant to make a move or announce her interest in the woman, which Mica took to mean it was serious.

“No,� Jess responded, her tone tense as she turned to look out the window.

“She’s going to see you coming and going, you know,� Mica scolded.

“I know, I just don’t…� Jess trailed off, then took in an audible breath before continuing. “I just don’t want her to feel obligated to be friendly. If she sees me and is happy at the surprise, then maybe there’s something there. If she sees me and just waves, or says ‘Hi,� then I’ll know.�

“She’s been watching you all year, Jess,� Mica said softly. “There’s something there, honey.�

“I hope so,� Jess whispered, voice uncharacteristically low and intense, her face still turned towards the window.

Four hours later Mica turned her steps into the parking lot beside Jackson’s, looking at the lines painted on the asphalt in confusion. Finally she saw some appropriately sized parking spaces and stared at one of them. Looking around, she saw the reason for the narrow spaces in the number of bikes parked up near the building. “Oh, crap,� she muttered and Jess laughed.

“You didn’t realize it was a biker bar?� Still laughing, the diminutive blonde turned on her heel, walking backwards in front of Mica so she could look up at her face.

“Jess, get back here,� Mica hissed, looking around. “We’ll find somewhere else to go.�

“Nu-huh, girly. You promised me drinks and I’m holding you to that promise right here, right now. Drinks at Jackson’s, which is walking distance from your digs, but not mine, which is why my first night in Chi-town will be spent sleeping on your pullout instead of mooning over my wanna-be girl on my own bed.� She turned around and skipped the rest of the way to the door, pushed it open and glanced back in clear challenge at Mica before she stepped into the dark doorway, disappearing from sight.

Mica stood for a moment, watching the door slowly close behind her friend, hearing the noise that had flooded out through the opening mute as the door settled into place in the frame. “Crap on toast,� she muttered, walking over and pushing it open again.

When she walked in, there were the normal bar noises of music playing over the speakers, pool balls clicking over by the tables, but it seemed all conversation had ceased at Jess� entrance, and had remained paused while Mica walked in behind her friend. There were about forty faces turned their direction, and she glanced around, seeing a variety of ages, with two commonalities for all of the patrons she could see. They were all rough looking men, and all wore leather or denim vests and jackets. Some of the men were older than the rest, but most looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties. And, as she had already noted, they were all intensely interested in the two women who had just walked into the bar.

“Come on over,� called a woman’s voice, and Mica looked towards the bar where the welcome came from a middle-aged woman standing near the register behind the countertop.

“Jeeezus,� she heard from over by the pool tables and swung her glance that way, but wasn’t able to decide who had spoken. There was one player over there who had his back to her, a large Hispanic man, but she turned away to look back at the woman who was now motioning them somewhat impatiently over.

“If you just come in on, they’ll stop staring,� the woman called and Jess snorted a laugh.

“Doubt that,� Jess said under her voice and Mica found a grin tipping the corners of her own lips.

“Nothing ventured,� she said softly, walking towards the bar, startled into stillness when two men wordlessly vacated stools in front of the woman, one making a gesture towards the now-available seats. There was a light shove at her back from Jess and she began walking again, her footsteps inordinately loud in the bubble of silence surrounding them.

“Beer or you got something else in mind?� The pleasant-faced bartender tossed a coaster down in front of each woman, and stood there waiting, a smile on her face.

“Jack and Coke,� Jess ordered, twirling her stool around to look out at the men in the bar, legs swinging back and forth restlessly.

“Tequila,� Mica said and the bartender raised an eyebrow as she asked in return, “You want well tequila or…�

“Top shelf,� Mica clarified with a grin and the woman laughed as she turned to fill the orders, muttering, “Damn good choice.�

“Wanna play a game of pool?� Jess asked a few minutes later, lifting her half-empty glass for a sip.

Without turning around, Mica asked, “Is there an open table?�

“No, but I bet one of the guys would be open for a challenge,� Jess laughed. “You can beat ‘em, girly.�

“Can, probably,� she responded, watching in the mirrors as there was movement over by the pool tables. “Should? I’m gonna go with probably not.�

“Table just opened up,� the bartender said, stepping over to put a larger glass and several stacks of quarters in front of Mica. “Chilled you a double, hon. Take this over to the table. Here’s your change.�

Standing at the end of the table, Mica waited for Jess to push the coin slider in so the balls would drop. There were men at every available seat in this area of the bar and she had noticed not all of them were part of the same gang. The images on the backs of their vests were different, but a lot of them, maybe even the majority wore the same skull with the words Rebel Wayfarers across their shoulders.

She heard the distinctive noise of the balls falling and squatted. Bringing the rack out of its hiding spot and laying it on the table she began placing balls into the triangle, using both hands, bringing up three at a time. “Daaammmn.� The drawled word came from behind her, followed quickly by a grunt. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the same big biker with his back to her, standing next to a grinning man who was rubbing his stomach.

She stood and swiftly arranged the balls, alternating solids and stripes, placing the eight-ball into its normal spot in the center position. Rolling the white cue ball up the table to Jess, she stepped back and picked up the stick she had already selected from the ones left on the table by the previous players.

Over the next few hours, she and Jess played several lazy, laughter-filled games alone, then they were challenged by one of the men. That changed the atmosphere of the table, and the game was tense for Mica, even though she handily beat him, retaining control of the table. He offered to play again but Jess bumped him with her hip, telling him she was up next and he laughingly acquiesced, walking away. Then came another challenge, and another, until she had played five or six men in a row, Jess seated astraddle a chair nearby, happy to be offering unhelpful advice and laughing scornfully when Mica or the men made a mistake.

A tall man repeated the challenge several times, putting his coins on the edge of the table and waiting. She heard several men joking with him and calling him Digger, so the next time his turn came she greeted him by name and was surprised when he blushed beet red, staring down at his boots for a minute before shoving out his hand. Muttering, “Laich, Nicolas Laich.�

She shook with him, giving him her name in response. “Mica Scott.� Tilting her head, she retained hold of his hand, the tequila making her brave as she asked, “Why do they call you Digger, then?�

“It’s my club name,� he said mysteriously, pulling out of her grip. “You won, so you’re breaking, let me rack.�

No one else challenged after that, and she and Jess alternated playing with Nicolas until it was nearly closing time. The conversation with the young biker became so easy and comfortable, at one point she forgot the masses of other men crowding around to watch. She had leaned far over to attempt a difficult shot, then adjusted, stepping back from the table and stretching out her leg to get better leverage when she felt what was unmistakably a hand stroke up the inside of her thigh to her ass, curving around and squeezing her cheek gently.

Startled, she jumped to one side, head up, and hair flying free from her ponytail as she eyed the three men who were close enough to have touched her. Two of the men looked at the third with sneers on their faces, and one of them glanced back at her and lifted his chin, giving her a soft smile before turning back and reaching out to firmly grip the offender by the shoulder. He and the other man shoved the one away, and she heard the one who had first moved say, “Demon, understand you got business elsewhere, yeah?�

“Bear, you got this?� She heard the voice call from across the room and looked up to see a wiry man stalking across the space towards the crowd around the pool table. Everyone moved out of his way unbidden and she felt a shiver of fear at the power he apparently held over these men. His head twisted, and he called over his shoulder, “Bones, get the door, would ya?�

The man who had Demon by the shoulder responded with, “Yeah, boss. It’s under control.� He was evidently called Bear, and he pushed Demon hard, making him stumble backwards by several feet.

From over by the door she heard an accented voice call, “Why yes, Slate. I can definitely man the door for you.� Glancing over she saw a man with tattoos on every visible inch of skin had pulled the door open, letting in a fresh breeze as he held the door in place with the heel of his boot.

Mica stepped close to Jess, suddenly worried because there was so much going on, and it was all happening so fast, she could hardly keep track of who was doing what. The realization of where they were crashed back in on her, forgotten over the past couple of companionable hours spent relaxing over drinks with Nicolas and Jess. She thought, You forget you’re in a biker bar, Mishy? Tensely, her gaze skimmed across the crowd. Most of what she saw were men’s backs, they had moved between the two women and whatever was going on over by the bar’s entrance. Nicolas was standing directly in front of them, every line on his body tense.

He took a deep breath and turned to face her, relaxing again, dipping his head to look into her face. “Your shot, Mica,� he urged gently, then he asked, “You okay?�

Her gaze skated across the men standing around the table, most of who had turned to face her again, and she swallowed and then nodded. Stepping around Nicolas, she opted for a different shot, one that required a less risqué position from which to shoot and a throat cleared behind her. Turning, she saw an older man, white hair held back with a bandanna. He was making a face and without thinking she asked, “What?�

“You got nothing to fear in Jackson’s, Mica,� he said softly, taking a slow step towards her. “I’m Tugboat, and I promise you that there’s nothing worth your fear in here.�

Copyright (c) 2016. MariaLisa deMora. All rights reserved.
So � ??

What do you think? Want more of Mica before she knew Mason? Be sure to let me know!

Woofully yours,

~ML

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I have procrastination on the brain. I ‘know� what I need to do. I planned to do it today. But then I got stuck in the morass that is social media. And people. All the people. I’ve too many open projects, and if you are one of those /looks at / who can balance the different voices of wildly diverse characters, I admirhate you right now. Seriously. Go unfuck yourself. I don’t seem to have that gene. Can I clone that tiny bit of you? No? Well, fuck me, to use Slate’s pet phrase.

I have Road Runner, our a baby Dom/fledgling biker in the works for theÌýnewsletter serial. I admit I’ve got the monthly installments through June written and edited, ready to go, and then two additional installments written. But, September is looming and I freak out. Yes, I know that’s six months worth of installmentsÌýin the bag, but still. Look! Look at all the loom.Ìý/Jim Carrey voice/ Looooming!

I have book #1 in a spin-off series about 1/3 done. That’s Born Into Trouble, the first Occupy Yourself book, and need it done. Like going from runny-side up to hard-boiled, I need it done. He keeps not talking. Like â€� I’ll get into it and then think â€� what the actual fuck did I just type? And June is looming. That’sÌýlike â€� right around the fucking corner. /freaks/

I have Watcher, book #9 in ourÌýmain RebelÌýseries who has been talking on and off, and I like what’s he’s sayinâ€�. Groovinâ€� on who he is, but I keep feeling like I need to put him aside to work on silent-boy above. December ain’t in the chutes yet, but still, that bull’s gonna wanna come bucking sooner or later. So â€� Looming.

Then there are the rogue projects. A standalone that twisted itself off a novella done for an anthology that just won’t shut the fuck up. Seriously. He’s a chatty guy, twisting his way into my head at all times of the night and day. Waking me up so I can jot down his ideas. No deadline and he’s fucking pushy. Fuck me.

Cassie, book #12 in the current series (See the gap between 9 and 12? Fuck me.) is about half done. Swear to God. TheyÌýwon’t shut up. Will not, because they’veÌýgot a story to tell, but I can’t put this book out ahead of the others, too many timeline spoilers for what’s planned.

Oh, and I’ve thrown my hat into the ring for yet another novella for an anthology. Can you kill me now? That’d be easier and less bloody than me flagellating myself into the ground because I can’t stay on target to save myself. I wish I was the kind of person I could admirhate, but it just ain’t working today.

/vent off/

So the good news for you, the readers? There is a metric fucktonne of work in the corral, ready to be sent down the chute to the arena. Just gotta polish and persuade alla these gents and ladies to perform properly for us all. Yeah? Easy as cake, right? /deep breath/

Woofully yours,

~ML

PS � I don’t hate AJ at all. I admire and love her face off. She’s uber talented and super sweet, and fortunately, good-natured about being picked on!

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I wanna start off with a shout-out to Daddy. See that picture of the good-looking, handsome man? Strong, honest, kind, loyal, hard-nosed but fair. Godly (and he’d probably list that first, but this is my list about him) and loved (definitely not last on any list about my dad).

Giver of many chances, he expected a lot from the folks he loved, but was always the first with an outstretched hand. A shirt-off-his back kinda guy who loved fiercely. A powerhouse, for fun he was a boxer and softball player while in the Air Force, and was proud of his service, putting in 22 years working mostly as a refueling boom operator on a KC135, or a flying gas station, as he liked to call ‘em.

As a small business owner he was frugal, but doted on Mom in every way he could. I learned from him that a single daisy in a plastic cup can sometimes mean more than a dozen roses. It’s not what you do, but that you do it.

He turned to preaching when I was a teen, catching fire for God in a way that you could see when you looked at him. His faith shone through, and I loved that about him. Daddy was all-in, on everything, and especially the things that mattered most.

I have a lot of Daddy-ism’s in my vocabulary, pull those gems out at appropriate times, watch as the wisdom soaks in.

On organizing your time: Do the need-to do first, see how much room you have left for the want-to.
On being an employee: Do a good day’s work for a good day’s pay. (Sounds simple, right?)
On being a boss: Every day do one thing more than they expect; make a place for yourself by becoming irreplaceable.
On sucking it up and pushing past pain: I’ve had worse places on my eyeball. (This remains one of my favorites of all time.)
On handling threats with confidence: (Holding up his left fist) This’un’s iron. (Holding up his right fist) And this’un’s steel. (Holding up his fists in sequence again) If this’n don’t getcha, this’n will.

He was known as Ham, Hambone, T, Bro T, Unka T, Coach, Daddy, and Honey � these were all titles and names that applied to him. Today marks his 21st Home Going Day, and I miss him as much today as I did the moment it happened. An ending of a life, beginning of his eternal reward. Love you, Daddy.

**

Release day. There are few things in a storyspinner’s world that sound better than “Release day.� Oh, sure. There’s “The End� which is mega cool to type or write, but that’s actually just a place to pause in the process because it’s not truly the end. It’s kinda the beginning of some of the hardest work on any story. Where you polish and shine that jewel, bathe the baby, dress up that table, weed the flowerbed, and generally get the story ready for opening day. Then on the actual release day? It’s showtime, baby!

That’s when you push your toddler from the swing, praying they can find working wings under their fancy frocks and togs, stretch them out and fly. Flap those crazy arms and soar up high where everyone can see them.

Course, there’s the paralyzing fear they’ll flop, too.

I don’t have that fear with this book. Not really. Oh sure, there’s the odd thought of ‘what if� that I always have, but I’m settled with this one. Because I spent the time and polished, bathed, dressed up, weeded, and got Reuben Nelms ready for his big day. And he is ready to meet all of you.

There are several blogs who agreed to do reviews, and those folks are amazeballs. So much on the ‘thank you� side of the teeter-totter I’ll never balance the scales. Thank you.

Review schedule:

February 22, 2016

Mommy’s a Book Whore

Confessions of a Serial Reader

iScream Books

My Girlfriends Couch

Naughty Moms� Story Time

Perusing Princesses

She Hearts Books

February 23, 2016

Mommy’s a Book Whore

FMR Book Grind

February 24, 2016

Lustful Literature

Renee Entress’s Blog

Sexy Bibliophiles

TaSTy WordGasms

we stole your book boyfriend

There’s also a blitz, and the blogs who are helping out with that are fabulous. So appreciate everything you all do for my babies. Giveaway should be posted on all the blogs involved in today, so feel free to trot your assets out there and enter. You can’t win if you don’t!

Blitz schedule:

February 22, 2016

Badass Bloggettes

Busy Bumble Bee Book Reviews

Liz’s Reading Life

Southern Vixens Book Obsessions

Stephanie’s Book Reports

Wicked Babes Blog Reviews

February 23, 2016

Naughty Book Eden

Yah Gotta Read This

February 24, 2016

Fallen Over Book Reviews

MJ’s Book Blog and Reviews

Ramblings From Beneath the Sheets

United Indie Book Blog

And, before I forget, I need to thank you. Yeah, you. Reading this. You readers, reviewers, pimpers, alphas, family, and friends. Thanks for putting up with my crazy. Thanks for putting up with my characters, these guys and gals who saunter through my subconscious in a way that lets them come out and say hello. Not in a creepy �she’s flippin� nuts, ain’t she� way, but in a fun, �say Hi to Mason� way!

Woofully yours,

~ML

/whispers to Duck/ “Break a leg, honey.�

Ìý

Reuben Nelms worked his entire life to pull away from a familyÌýlegacy of horror and pain. Returning to his West Texas hometown for the first time in more than a decade, he still finds himself confronted by and fighting ghosts from his past. Treading alongside the remembered fear and regret surrounding him walks a temptation, Brenda Calloway, the woman he left behind.

Will their second chance loveÌýtake root and grow in the dry deserts of West Texas? What does this mean for his brothers in the Rebel Wayfarers MC? Can Duck put aside the man he’s become, sloughing off the brotherhood and leaving that behind to become Reuben again, or can he pick up the pieces of his teenage love and still continue his life in Chicago as a member of the Rebel Wayfarers MC?

Buy links:

Amazon:

Barnes & Noble:

iTunes:

Links for the series:

Amazon:

Barnes & Noble:

iTunes:

Add Duck to your Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ TBR:

Summary:

Reuben Nelms has worked hard all his life. First to escape the West Texas town where he grew up, then to negate the legacy of his family. One of his worst regrets was failing to protect a young woman from evil dealt by his blood brother. For years afterwards, he watched and protected her from the shadows, most comfortable in that faceless role.

Now known by his road name, Duck feels he’s finally found redemption in watching that woman blossom and grow, sheltered by her association with his brothers by choice, the Rebel Wayfarers motorcycle club. Things were settled, predictable, until a desperate call from home sets him scrambling and he is back front and center, home again in West Texas, finding himself confronted daily with reminders of his horrific family heritage.

Treading alongside the remembered fear and regret surrounding him walks a temptation, Brenda Calloway, the hometown woman he left behind. The efficient business manager of the cattle company he inherited from his father, his childhood friend is now a widow. More beautiful than ever, she’s a single parent with a secret, unaware of the power she still wields over Reuben’s heart.

Will their second chance love be able to take root and grow in the dry deserts of West Texas? Can Duck put aside the man he’s become, sloughing off the brotherhood and leaving that behind to become Reuben again, or will he be able to pick up the pieces of his teenage love and still continue his life in Chicago as a member of the Rebel Wayfarers MC?

�Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.�

� Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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Can I be honest with you? I still don’t know exactly how Duck came to be in my head. There’s no one person or moment that defined the character, but rather this was a story that revealed itself to me in bits and pieces, fits and starts. It’s a tale plundered from dream observations, misheard and overheard conversations, and the brilliance of human imperfections.

From the beginning, back when Mica began coming to me as I slept, I liked the idea that she brought along her friends. It was cool to see the people she surrounded herself with. I noticed along the way that there was this one guy who worked in the background to keep her safe. Who tried to steer bad things away from her. An undefined man who often accompanied her, but edged through the shadows.

For a chick who hadn’t much good in her life, it made me happy to know this mysterious character cared enough to give her that and, over time, I found something there I could work with. An echoing kaleidoscope of beauty that helped cement the man, taking him from the shadows and into the light, bringing Reuben Nelms out where we all can benefit from knowing him.

The story spinner in me wanted to know: What would it take to become that person? What could drive a man or woman to devote their life to keeping another being safe when there is no benefit, and in fact, a significant sacrifice required in order to do so? What would have to happen in order for them to become that person doing right, holding on to that charter? And once there…what would motivate them to stay the course?

Life would be good for the person under that kind of protection. What a boon it would be to have someone to count on like that. Someone who we’d know would do right for right’s sake. A guardian who dealt in justice from a position of strength; who would shield and keep us safe at any cost.

This book is about finding that within yourself. Digging deep and discovering the bones to build yourself into that person. That hero. About learning how to heal from what might have seemed a crippling blow. An injury, not on the outside, where people can see the struggle, but on the inside, where things fester. That hollow inside us where bad things have the darkness and isolation needed to grow and take root. Infestations of fear and guilt brought about by betrayal, beaten back when we find a way to shine light on them. Take away their power to hurt, and scar. Becoming righteous. Heros.

Becoming…a man like our Duck.

The cover photo featuring James Xavier () by Michael Meadows Studios () is one of my all-time favorites. To me, James makes a perfect Reuben Nelms, and his secret smile in this image holds so much mystery. Makes me want to get in there and see what I can learn about his story. Get in his head, find out about the character…the man. Love the shot, love the man, love the fotog who made it all possible. Thank you both!

Debera Kuntz (), thank you for being willing to tackle this project with me, I adore the cover! You rock, chickie!

Ìý

Pre-order links:

Amazon: Barnes & Noble: iTunes: Add Duck to your Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ TBR:

Ìý

Ìý

Reuben Nelms has worked hard all his life. First to escape the West Texas town where he grew up, then to negate the legacy of his family. One of his worst regrets was failing to protect a young woman from evil dealt by his blood brother. For years afterwards, he watched and protected her from the shadows, most comfortable in that faceless role.

Now known by his road name, Duck feels he’s finally found redemption in watching that woman blossom and grow, sheltered by her association with his brothers by choice, the Rebel Wayfarers motorcycle club. Things were settled, predictable, until a desperate call from home sets him scrambling and he is back front and center, home again in West Texas, finding himself confronted daily with reminders of his horrific family heritage.

Treading alongside the remembered fear and regret surrounding him walks a temptation, Brenda Calloway, the hometown woman he left behind. The efficient business manager of the cattle company he inherited from his father, his childhood friend is now a widow. More beautiful than ever, she’s a single parent with a secret, unaware of the power she still wields over Reuben’s heart.

Will their second chance love be able to take root and grow in the dry deserts of West Texas? Can Duck put aside the man he’s become, sloughing off the brotherhood and leaving that behind to become Reuben again, or will he be able to pick up the pieces of his teenage love and still continue his life in Chicago as a member of the Rebel Wayfarers MC?

�Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.�

� Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Ìý

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Library � a place where inked dreams are set free, fears will be conquered, and the blinders of narrow-mindedness can be torn away.

I grew up in a library. Not literally, of course, but according to some of my earliest memories, the quiet and smell of the Ìýlibrary in , were part of my summers. I’ve often said I was blessed with an enlightened librarian, one who did not believe in age-restrictions amidst her stacks. One who encouraged me to read as I liked, whether that was the encyclopedia or Stephen King. She never frowned when I checked a book out again and again, and when I turned nine, gave me a special library card so I could check out twice as many books as the rest of the kids.

So imagine the thrill I feel every time I see another library has requested a set of the #RWMC paperbacks. I’m beyond excited to see that in the past week Lee County, Megora County, Dupaige County, Merimac County, and a dozen others have purchased a full set of ebooks. This means someone is reading, and that pleases me beyond anything else.

I hope that my readers never, ever feel anything less than joy when they check out a library book in any form. Don’t worry that you aren’t supporting the writers and authors, because trust me, you are. If I have occasion to go into libraries and find my titles on the shelves, I pray the covers are worn and dingy, patched with tape, and that the register shows they’ve spent more time outside of the library and in someone’s hands, than on the shelf.

So go to the library. Please. Run your fingers along the spines of the dreams waiting for you. Read. Request they carry the RWMC books. Request other favorites, so other readers can discover them. Learn. Expand your mind. Hug a librarian � or not, depending on your local state laws.

Woofully yours,

~ML

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I’ve come to a decision. A resolution, if you will. It’s that time of year, after all.

I will no longer read any story that simply fits tab A into slot B as part of a purely mechanical process. Because that seems to be what a lot of stories do � there are damn few that achieve any kind of emotional connection. Smut for smut’s sake instead of slaked satisfaction.

I find that I need � senses involved. Taste, touch, sight, and even smell � so much more than just my hearing with a moaned, “Oh baby, you’re so big.� One sense versus using all five to immerse me in the moment. That’s just awful, which is so far from what I need � I need to hear her inner thoughts of the strength in his hands, how protected she is, the rustle of the curtains at the window, how the salt of his sweat tastes on her tongue, the beauty of the shadows moving along the wall �

I need the woo.

I’ve decided I definitely need the woo.

And, I have found that you folks who like my stories, you seem to like the woo, too. You shouldn’t settle for less. Demand the woo! The stories you given your time to, the ones you read cover to cover, those should be full of the woo. The writer should suck you in and wrap you tightly, living up to every expectation that you are feeling, smelling, and tasting everything written about on the page. You as a reader deserve at least that much.

If I don’t give you the chance to suspend disbelief and immerse yourself in my stories, then I’m not doing my job, am I? I want to do that. I need to. Definite need there, too.

A short story that I wrote recently is wonderfully wooful. That’s woo-ful, not awful. As in full-of-the-woo. In fact, it was so woo-filled that, until I asked, some of the alpha readers didn’t even notice there wasn’t any sex in the story. Instead it was sweet and romantic, full of tenderness and real reactions. Kissing, yes. Noticing of each other’s charms, also yes. Even a little tasteful (and wooful) groping. But no sex. And some of them didn’t notice, because reading about fitting that tab A into slot B wasn’t important. It was wooful. And the woo was wonderful.

So my resolutions are as follows:

I resolve to ensure I give you the woo. All of the woo. Every single wooful time.
I resolve to only read stories that give me woo, too.
I will only read authors who are better than I am, who are more skilled with a turn of phrase.
I will only read stories that make me better as a person, that push me to make good and right decisions. We are influenced by what we take in, after all, and I promise to only take in things that make my stories better for you. I’m going to feed the woo.

I see good things.

Woofully yours,

MariaLisa

PS � Happy New Year!

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