Dakota Hearts series: Book 11

Hawk McKinnon has been waiting for his lady love, Regis, to marry him ever since she stepped foot in Rudolph, South Dakota. Now that they're expecting a baby, he's determined to finally make her his wife. But Regis has doubts and fears Hawk can't possibly understand given his upbringing in such a big and loving family. As Hawk works to make Regis fall in love with him again, making her believe in the power of love and family, will he succeed in making Regis his bride?


Teaser Tuesday: Badland Bride

Dakota Hearts Book 2
Badland Bride

Raised an Army brat, Regis Simpson was used to calling new towns home, learning to quickly make friends but never letting anyone get too close.  When devastating floods tear through the Badlands of South Dakota, she thinks Rudolph is just another town that needs to be rebuilt.  Nothing more.  The sooner she gets her work done, the sooner the people of Rudolph can heal and she can move on to the next town in need.  She never counted on the sexy town doctor, Keith “Hawk” McKinnon or his determination to break down walls she’d spent a lifetime building, making it impossible for her to leave.

Nothing pained Hawk McKinnon more than seeing people he’d known his whole life hurting.  He traded a high-paying salary at a city hospital to come back to Rudolph and make a difference where he’d dug his roots.  When the beautiful Regis Simpson comes to town offering help, he’s immediately drawn to her even though she’s spent a lifetime packing armor around her heart.  But once her work is done, she’ll be leaving again.  He’s determined to do everything possible to make her stay.

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Army brats weren’t wusses. She’d been dealing with tough situations from the moment she’d pushed her way into the world. At least that’s what Regis Simpson’s daddy always told her. She should've known better than to traipse through mud and rubble without proper boots, no matter how stylish her flats looked in the store window. Her reward was the nice chunk of medal from the rusty fence that had somehow embedded itself into her ankle when she’d slipped.
     “You’re going to need a tetanus shot for that.”
     Regis looked up at the man standing over her. He’d just taken her on a thirty minute walk around his property to assess flood damage. It wasn’t pretty. Now as she was sprawled out on the muddy ground, smelling earth and Lord knows what else decaying, she tried to focus on the wetness from the ground seeping into the fabric of her pants rather than the pain in her leg.
     “I’m up on my shots,” she said, trying her best not to pass out as she pulled her leg away from the twisted fence. 
     Regis took the man’s proffered hands in hers and welcomed his help. She’d already been out to six properties today and couldn’t remember all the people she’d talked to.
     Tim Bennett. That was this guy’s name, right? Relief flooded her. She hated when her brain became overloaded with details. And Mr. Bennett had bigger worries than the damage she’d done to her leg to help keep her straight. Everyone in Rudolph and the surrounding towns in the Badlands of South Dakota were worried about whether or not insurance would cover enough to repair the damage to their property after the worst ice storms and flooding in a hundred years had swept through the area. That’s what she did and the only reason she was on a marathon tour of destruction. And there were days she wondered why she was still doing it after five straight years of living out of a suitcase and calling the local motel in Anytown, USA her home.
     “No, you really should have Hawk take a look at that. It looks pretty bad. Might need stitches.”
     “Hawk? What is he, a local Native American shaman or something?”
     Mr. Bennett smiled. “More like the local dare devil. Or he used to be anyway. People around here joke he went into medicine just so he could stitch up his own wounds because the thieving insurance companies cancelled his policy.”
     The joke fell flat and Mr. Bennett’s smile immediately faltered as if he suddenly remembered who he was speaking to. “Let me see if I can find something clean to wrap that leg.”
     “I’d appreciate that.”
     Regis couldn’t exactly blame Mr. Bennett for being nervous. It didn’t matter what town she was in across America. When a natural disaster struck an area, it caused upheaval and destruction that she needed to help these fine folks fix. She was their hope of a swift recovery…so long as she approved their claim.
     And that, she was sure, was the reason for Mr. Bennett’s nervous energy.
     While she waited, she carefully tried to put weight on her foot but felt warm moisture seep into her shoe as pain shot up her leg. She quietly let out a colorful stream of expletives that she knew sounded odd coming out of the mouth of someone in her position. But being raised by a single father on Army bases around the world, she heard a thing or two that made even her toes curl.

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Teaser Tuesday: Her Dakota Man

Dakota Hearts Book 1

Everyone knows that the Dakotas didn’t get the name Badlands for nothing.  Harsh weather and rough living are a way of life.  But single dad, Logan McKinnon, had seen more than his share of bad times after the death of his wife a year ago.  The last thing he needs is Poppy Erickson, an old flame and his late wife’s best friend, showing up unannounced to help after devastating floods nearly washed away their hometown.  With no place to stay in town, he has no choice but to offer her a bed at his house.  But can he live under the same roof with a woman he’d once loved passionately without feeling he’s betraying his late wife?

Poppy Erickson had spent the year wondering how all their lives might have been different after hearing the death bed confession of her childhood friend.  She’d left South Dakota years ago because she couldn’t bear to watch the man she loved loving another woman.  But now she knows the truth.  She’ll keep the promise she made to a friend, but will Logan understand when he learns the truth?  More important, can they again recapture the passion that had been between them all those years ago?
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One look on Logan McKinnon’s face told Poppy that his foul mood had very little to do with the devastating destruction all around the Badlands of South Dakota…and everything to do with her showing up in town after nearly ten years.
     She didn’t have to be standing next to him to feel his anger simmering just below the surface of his composure. Sitting in her rental sedan was close enough. What the hell was she thinking coming back home? Why had she made that ridiculous promise to Kelly?
     She parked the car next to his truck and took a deep breath, mumbling under her breath as she pulled the door handle, “This may just turn out to be the stupidest thing you have ever done, girl.”
     Truth was, even as pissed off as Logan looked, he was still an amazing sight to see. Part of her had hoped that she was wrong. That she’d gotten over him a long time ago. That she’d take one look at him, make sure he and Keith were okay, and be able to get back in her car and drive right to the airport in Rapids City.
     He turned to her, standing tall and proud. His thick dark hair blew in the March wind, fluttering around his face and making him all the more strikingly handsome.
     Yep. Stupid.
     He was taller than she’d remembered, and he’d long since lost that too-lean teenage body that had driven her crazy in her youth. He worked hard on his ranch and it showed in how much his arms and chest had filled with muscles.
     Despite the cold, he’d taken off his jacket while he worked in the yard and Poppy had a clear view of just how much his male body had filled out in places she’d dreamed of touching.
     Lord, help her. She was in trouble. And she hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet. She pushed the door open and stepped outside to get it over with. It was either going to be the shortest visit on record…or the life changing experience she’d been dreaming of ever since she was a teenager.
     “Hi, Logan.”
     Logan starred at her for a long, agonizing moment. She read the emotional tug of war playing on his face as the sudden chill from the South Dakota winds bit into her exposed skin like a whipping.
     Then his expression turned hard. “What are you doing here?”
     He must have heard the car drive up. But Logan’s four-year-old son, Keith, remained so focused on the mud puddle he was poking a stick into to even notice anyone was around. That was good. The next few minutes would go easier for both of them if Keith weren’t aware of the tension.
     Logan stared at her as if he’d been startled. Or maybe too focused on making sure his son was safely playing nearby to notice her car had driven up.
     Or perhaps he’d been too pre-occupied with assessing the damage the recent angry South Dakota weather had done to his property. Poppy had seen just how Mother Nature had shown no mercy to her childhood town as she drove from the airport to the ranch. She couldn’t exactly blame Logan for being in a foul mood because of that.
     Seeing her was just the icing on the cake.
     “What the hell are you doing here, Poppy?” he repeated.

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On Conversations: #AAMBC #author E. N. Joy

Please join me in welcoming author E. N. Joy to Conversations today! E. N. is here to talk about her book 1 in her Always Diva Series, I Ain't Me No More! So be sure and check out the cover, blurb and excerpt below! And don't forget to check out her interview too and get to know E. N. Joy.

Lisa ~


I Ain't Me No More

Helen wasn't just born the devious vixen of New Day Temple of Faith. There has to be something rooted deep within her to make her feed off of the pain she inflicts on other people. Perhaps it is her own pain that she has suppressed for so many years. It's an unimaginable pain that creates an internal prison in which her mind is the only captive.

Whatever the cause, once the demons within her break free, those around her better beware.

Helen feels no shame about the fact that she hasn't been saved. Will the divas of New Day Temple of Faith think Helen is worth saving? More importantly, can God save Helen from not only her evil past, but from herself?

Excerpt from I Ain't Me No More

Man, I hate the cleaning guy!  Why does he have to do his job so well?  Can’t he ever leave just one spot, smear, or smudge on this dang stripper pole? Something so that I don’t have to see myself so painfully visible like this?  What makes him think I want to be able to see myself twirling around this pole like some skilled monkey—caught up in the powerful grip of the almighty dollar; a grip known to have choked the life out of many while leaving others gasping for their last breath?

“That’s for you,” Damon spoke out over R. Kelly’s “Your Body’s Calling.”  With his chestnut brown, bald head and facial hair that was edged up nice and clean, Damon licked his thumb and used it to flick a twenty-dollar bill off the stack of money he was palming.

I swiveled my body down to the ground, the same way the vanilla and chocolate swirl ice cream at the DQ makes its way from the machine to the cone. “Baby, you know it takes gas to keep a Cadillac like myself going,” I said to Damon. “As long as you keep filling up the tank, I’ma go-go all night.” I swiveled my body back up to a standing position while adding, “In any direction you want me to go.”

Damon’s lips parted into that sexy signature smile of his.

“Whatever you want,” Damon said. “It’s your Caddy. I’ll drive, ride, heck, I’ll even be a backseat passenger. Just know that I got you, Ma.” Damon began to flick off bills like he was the dealer in a game of spades.

I was very much content with the hand I was being dealt. So much so that I wanted to drop to my knees and begin scooping like a kid standing under a piñata that had just been busted open. But I didn’t want to appear too desperate.  Resolving to strip in the first place was out of desperation. At the time of making the decision I had felt trapped, like Jonah in the belly of the big fish. I was always trying to make ends meet, but neither of my ends were the least bit interested in getting to know one another. Bills were due. I weighed some options on my immoral scale of desperation, and stripping was a less load to travel with in my mental carry-on. I mean, at least I wasn’t selling my whole self—just bartering off a piece of me.

“Go on, Go-Go Girl.  You know you wanna bend that thang over and pick up that loot.”

Once again, Damon licked his thumb and lightened his pile of money as he flicked a couple more bills onto the stage at my feet. “Come on, just show me a li’l sumpin’-sumpin’,” Damon urged. His eyes perused my body from head to toe, wetting his thumb in preparation to keep making it rain.

And this was rain, might I add. Ones being flicked off; that’s a chance of rain.  Fives being flicked off; that’s a little drizzle. Tens being flicked off; that’s a scattered shower.  Twenties; that’s rain.  Benjamins; an all-out thunderstorm!

“Come on, Damon, you know the rules. You don’t want me to break the rules and get put on punishment do you?” I asked, making a puppy dog face.

“Forget the rules,” Damon barked like the big dawg he was. “And if all that is worthy of just a peek,” he said, referring to all the money he’d laid at my feet, “I can only imagine what this will get me.”

I froze on the stage, which meant the bill Damon was now displaying must have triggered some type of ice storm.  Until that very moment, I had never even known that such a bill existed.

“What’s the matter, Go-Go Girl?  You ain’t never seen a five-hundred-dollar bill before?” He chuckled.  “So what do you say you make tonight a first for a lot of things?”

All of a sudden, I was starting to think about church, kicking myself for not having paid my respects (or tithes) to the house of the Lord in a couple of months.  At the same time, I was trying my hardest to recall one of those messages that had to do with temptation—a scripture or something— because to tell the truth and shame the devil, I was beyond tempted to take Damon up on his offer.

“A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches . . .” That wasn’t exactly the scripture I was grappling for, but it still seemed fitting.

My name; Helen Lannden.  How much is it worth today? Twenty-five year old Helen Lannden. How much will my name be worth tomorrow, especially if I trick for this money today?

Interview with E. N. Joy

What advice would you give to those going through similar situations in your book, I Ain’t Me No More?

The entire theme of the domestic abuse the main character, Helen, who is based on my own life, endures is the fact that it started off when she was just a teenager in high school. So I really want my readers to make note of that. I want parents to look at their child’s homecoming or prom picture and ask themselves “Is that person standing next to my daughter smiling with his arm around her abusing her?” or “Is my smiling son abusing that girl he has his arm around?” And vice versa, because although underreported, males suffer domestic abuse as well. And young ladies, your choice to keep company with a guy who will put his hands on you is a matter of life and death. I survived, but not every abused woman does. Choose life . . . choose to leave!

Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of your family.

Hands down-THE READERS. #Readersarethebossofme. What I need people to understand is, yes, as an author, a part of me wants to write stories that I myself want to read. But the moment an author begins to make it all about them and not the reader is when the author needs to rethink their purpose for doing what they do. Ultimately, when a product is created, it is created to please and satisfy the consumer. Well, if you are a writer, your product is your written word and the reader is your consumer. Readers are my literary heartbeat. Every time they turn the page of one of my books, they are flying with me.

My readers inspire me to challenge myself. I don’t write for myself and I’m absolutely not one of those authors who you will hear say, “If I could just sell one book and reach one person, then I’m happy; I’ve done my job.” No ma’am and no sir. I’m grateful to reach one person, but that is not my goal. I do not put all that I put into my work—sacrifice all that I do—to sell one book or reach one person. Did Jesus set out to reach one person? Did Jesus die, go through all that He did and die on that cross just to save one person? I think you get my point.

Introduce us to your book and the main characters.
I Ain’t Me No More is book one of my three book “Always Divas” series. The main character, Helen, is not only the newest member of the New Day Temple of Faith Singles Ministry, but she quickly becomes the vixen with all her evil ways and antics. Helen is not one of those church folks the members love to hate. They just outright hate her! But is there something more to Helen than the hard, nasty exterior she puts up? Lord knows she wasn’t saved all her life, but was she born evil? Why else would someone set out to intentionally inject turmoil into the lives around her? Well, the women at New Day don’t know, and most don’t care. But when Helen decides to let them in on her past skeletons, it may change a few minds (or not). The women just might find that Helen is worth saving. Question is, though; Does Helen want to be saved?

What are some other titles you have written?

I’ve written 14 books in my Divas series. What I love about my series is that you can read them in any order. Each book highlights a different main character. What makes it a series is that each character that I write about is a member of the same church. But if you are a stickler for having to read my Divas series in the order of which I wrote them, then here goes: She Who Finds a Husband, Been There Prayed That, Love Honor or Stray, Trying to Stay Saved, I Can Do Better All By Myself, And You Call Yourself a Christian, The Perfect Christian, The Sunday Only Christian, I Ain’t Me No More, More Than I Can Bear, You Get What You Pray For, When All is Said and Prayed, One Sunday at a Time, Lady of the House.

My stand-alone books are Me, Myself & Him, She’s No Angel, and A Woman’s Revenge. Ebook only books are Ordained by the Streets, Let’s Do Summer, Behind Every Good Woman, The Miserable Wives Club, and Flower in my Hair.

You can also check out my children’s books written under the name N. Joy: The Secret Olivia Told me, Sabella and the Castle Belonging to the Troll, and Operation Get Rid of Mom’s New Boyfriend.

What events or projects do you have coming up that we can look forward to seeing or attending?

I believe everyone has a story to tell, that they should tell it, that they should tell it right, then publish it right. So, I’m putting on the first annual Path To Publishing “Act Like an Author, Think Like a Business” Three-Day Self-Publishing Conference, kicking off September 2018 in Las Vegas, NV. On day one we will focus on building your book (the entire self-publishing process). On day two we will focus on building your book business (incorporating, doing business as, taxes, etc.) On day three we will focus on creating multiple streams of income as an author outside of book sales and royalties. To stay updated, visit and sign-up for the free newsletter.

Former president, Bill Clinton, years back, right after he had his first memoir published, said, “Anybody over fifty owes it to his family to write down everything that’s happened during his life and pass it on.” I’m in total agreement. But tomorrow isn’t promised, so don’t wait until you’re fifty to begin penning your message . . . your story. This is the reason why I became a literary consultant, a course instructor with Path To Publishing, and the host of the YouTube series, “Act Like an Author, Think Like a Business.” Not only do I have a strong desire to help people tell their story and put it in a book, but I also want to teach them how to turn their book into a business. Our stories should be a family legacy . . . in more ways than one. Visit me at  if you are interested in any of my literary services.

What was the pivotal moment or book that inspired you to write?

One day I got my hands on one of my auntie’s grownup books, which was Black Girl Lost by Donald Goines. It was the first book I’d ever read with main characters that looked like me. With characters that walked, talked, and thought like me. I remember sneaking the book out at night time and reading it while lying in bed. I was so deeply enthralled that I felt like I became that black girl who was lost. I remember closing that book upon the final chapter and saying to myself, “One day I’m going to write a book that does that to people. I’m going to write a book that black girls like me can relate to, take something from.” I think I’ve accomplished that in my books.

I hear authors say it all the time: “I write my book for everybody, not just one particular audience.” That’s all fine and well, but the book business is just that; a business. In dealing with business you have to have a target audience that you start off promoting and marketing to. Once you have saturated your target audience, then you have the bull’s eye affect, where you begin to expand outward into other areas. There is absolutely no shame in my game; I write my books for women, namely Black women. If anyone outside of my target audience wants to pick up my books, that is an awesome blessing. But I want to make sure that my sisters—my target audience—can walk right into the book store and know exactly where to find me.

Where do you expect to be in your career as an author five (5) years from now?

Had I been asked this question five years ago (which I’m sure I was) my answer would have been (and I’m sure it was) “I want to be a New York Times Bestselling Author. I want to have “A Million Copies Sold!” stamped on my book covers. I want to be selling out of books after every book signing. In short, five years from now I want to be a famous author.” I know that was a mouthful, but when I first started writing, achieving all of the above is what motivated me. But now, after having my greatest Ah-Ha moment ever, those answers have changed.

A couple years ago I was in a room with some authors who had pretty much achieved what I’d wanted to achieve by that point in my writing career. Their reputations preceded them. All the readers in the room knew who they were. In that moment, I felt so inferior that I felt myself shrinking in my seat. I remember saying a silent prayer: “God, one day I want to walk into the room and everyone knows who I am.” God’s response to me was, “Me too!”

I always say the greatest Ah-Ha moment a person can ever have is when their life begins to make sense. In that moment, my life began to make sense. So, this is how I now answer the question of where do I expect to be in my career as an author five years from now: “I want to be a BLESSED selling author. I want to have “A Million Souls Saved!” stamped on my book covers. I want readers to be sold out on Christ after reading my books. In short, five years from now I want to still be writing, not to become a famous author, but to make God famous.

BLESSED selling Author E. N. Joy is the author behind the “New Day Divas,” “Still Divas,” “Always Divas” and “Forever Divas” series, all which have been coined “Soap Operas in Print.” She is an Essence Magazine Bestselling Author who wrote secular books under the names Joylynn M. Jossel and JOY. Her title, If I Ruled the World, earned her a book blurb from Grammy Award Winning Artist, Erykah Badu. An All Night Man, an anthology she penned with New York Times Bestselling Author Brenda Jackson, earned the Borders bestselling African American romance award. Her Urban Fiction title, Dollar Bill (Triple Crown Publications), appeared in Newsweek and has been translated to Japanese.

After thirteen years of being a paralegal in the insurance industry, E. N. Joy divorced her career and married her mistress and her passion; writing. In 2000, she formed her own publishing company where she published her books until landing a book deal with St. Martin’s Press. This award-winning author has been sharing her literary expertise on conference panels in her home town of Columbus, Ohio as well as cities across the country. Now residing in Las Vegas, Nevada, she also conducts publishing/writing workshops for aspiring writers.

Her children’s book titled The Secret Olivia Told Me, written under the name N. Joy, received a Coretta Scott King Honor from the American Library Association. The book was also acquired by Scholastic Books and has sold almost 100,000 copies. Elementary and middle school children have fallen in love with reading and creative writing as a result of the readings and workshops E. N. Joy instructs in schools nationwide.

In addition, she is the artistic developer for a young girl group named DJHK Gurls. She pens original songs, drama skits and monologues for the group that deal with messages that affect today’s youth, such as bullying.

After being the first content development editor for Triple Crown Publications and ten years as the acquisitions editor for Carl Weber’s Urban Christian imprint, E. N. Joy now does freelance editing, ghostwriting, write-behinds and literary consulting. Her clients have included New York Times Bestselling authors, entertainers, aspiring authors, as well as first-time authors. Some notable literary consulting clients include actor Christian Keyes, singer Olivia Longott and Reality Television star Shereé M. Whitfield.

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Teaser Tuesday: Cold Harbor

Heroes of Providence Book 6

FBI Agent, Charlotte "Charley" Tate has loved only one man in her life.  The one man she betrayed, Tyler Jacobsen.  Tyler had given up a career he loved as a Providence police detective after realizing how easily a beautiful face and sweet smile had led him astray. Now Charley is back in his life as they fight to undo the organized crime corruption that has infiltrated the city he loves by a Colombian drug lord.  Can he work along side a woman he still loves without risking his life...and his heart?



There are worse ways to die than drowning. Of course, as Charlotte Tate stepped through the door of the pilot house deck on the one hundred and seventy foot yacht, Mystique, she couldn't think of even one.

Oh, yeah. A bullet to the brain execution-style wasn't very appealing. That would certainly ruin her day, she thought as she moved quietly, blood racing through her veins so fast she could hear her pulse thrumming in her ear. Her choices were to swim out into the bay as far as she could and likely suck water into her lungs until she was unconscious—unless, of course, she actually managed to get to shore—or sit back and make it quicker by letting Franco blow her brains out on the deck. That scenario was very likely in her immediate future if she didn't do something to prevent it from hap-pening. Like, now!

It was time to go for a swim.

Heart pounding, she slipped past the bathroom into the spiral stairway located in the center of the yacht and carefully made her way down to the main deck, secure in the fact that she had a few precious minutes to formulate some type of a plan that didn’t involve her dying. The yacht was moored about a half mile, maybe less, from shore. Who knew how bad the current was between the two to keep her from making it to the beach? Given her limited options, it seemed like the best one for her.

Instead of bolting onto the main deck, Charley waited a few stair treads up from the bottom and listened. Laughter roared from the deck above her, where Franco was having one of his infamous dinner parties. No doubt one of the other women he'd invited had slid into Charley's chair at the table as soon as she'd excused herself and vacated her seat. Charley was counting on it. It would keep Franco occupied a little while longer if some other gal had her hands on his thigh.

Movement on the main deck kicked her heart rate up and had her chest pounding. She recog-nized the voices of two crew members as their voices became louder. Flattening herself against the wall as best she could, she remained still as they walked by the landing. All it would take was for one of them to see her out of the corner of his eye, and it would be all she wrote. Goodnight, Charley!

She kept her breathing even as the chef and one of the crewmen walked to the crew's quarters behind the guest cabins. The chef was grumbling that Franco hadn't even complimented him on the dinner, which Charley had to admit had been truly amazing. She hoped this dinner wasn't her last.

When they were out of sight, she quickly decided which way to turn. She could escape by the powerboat tied to the side of the yacht. That would ensure she made it to shore, but Charley wasn't sure if she could get it freed from its mooring and get it started without being heard and shot in the process. Being a fairly notable member of the Richie Trumbella crime organization in Providence had given Franco access to a lot of gunners. Richie was gone, having been killed in a night club shooting the year before. That left his goons to find another leader in Franco.


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