On Conversations: #YA #author PJ Sharon

Please welcome YA author PJ Sharon! She's here to talk about her contemporary YA/NA romance novel, Heaven is for Heroes. So, be sure and check out the blurb and excerpt below and her Story Behind the Story. Thanks for sharing PJ!

Lisa ~

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HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES

Seventeen year-old Jordie Dunn must face the loss of her brother when he’s killed in the war in Iraq. But Jordie doesn’t believe the military report that his best friend and fellow Marine, Alex Cooper, is at fault. In her quest to find the truth and help Alex, the guy she’s had a crush on since the ninth grade, Jordie discovers that the truth isn’t the only thing she wants.

A disgraced young Marine is faced with a tough recovery, a rekindled high school crush, and the girl determined to prove his innocence.






PJ Sharon on HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES, the “Story Behind the Story”

HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES came about because I wanted to give voice to the generation of teens who are growing up in a time of war and dealing with the many losses associated with that issue. My father was a WWII vet, my sister was in the Navy, and I had two brothers in the military—one in the army, the other in the Marines—so I have a firsthand understanding of the deep roots of patriotism in a military family. One of my brothers committed suicide, and being Catholic, the question as to whether he would go to heaven haunted me for many years. Writing this book was my way of answering that question.

Heaven is for Heroes is a contemporary YA/NA romance that deals with the tragedies of war, overcoming loss, and the determination of one seventeen year old girl to find the truth. Filled with moments of poignant reality, hard lessons, and the angst and sexual tension of first love, the book combines family drama and the relationship between childhood sweethearts, Jordie Dunn and Alex Cooper. Because the focus of the story is the tenuous romance with the underlying plot of a family’s search for peace in time of war, HIFH will appeal to adult readers as well as older young adults. One reader said,

“With entertaining secondary characters and a challenging mother-daughter relationship, the story deals with real life issues with both unwavering comprehension and uplifting humor.”

And NYT and USA Today Bestselling author, Kristan Higgins had this to say:

“Filled with the complex emotions of grief, confusion and first love, HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES is a rich, uplifting story that will touch a reader’s heart.”

Set in a fictitious Connecticut lake-town, the story has the feel of hometown USA and is relatable to anyone questioning the value of war and the cost to the families of lost and wounded soldiers. Although the main character, Jordie, is only seventeen, she has spent most of her teenage life studying martial arts and yoga, her Grandfather’s solution to keeping her from following in her brother’s destructive footsteps. When Alex Cooper, her brother’s best friend and the guy she’s been crushing on since the ninth grade, returns home wounded and determined to blame himself for her brother’s death, Jordie uses her experience and pushes the boundaries of convention in her attempt to help him recover.

Heaven Is For Heroes takes you through one family’s loss, and the recovery of a young Marine dealing with both the emotional and physical ravages of war. It’s the story of how the love and determination of one person can change a whole family, and how the truth they’ve been hiding from can set them all free.

I hope you enjoy this heartwarming Thanksgiving story.

The e-book is available on Amazon, B&N, and Smashwords
Print copies are available on demand at Amazon, CreateSpace, or B&N
Also available on audio at Amazon, Audible, or iTunes

As thanks to our Veteran’s, a portion of November’s sales of HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES will be donated to the Wounded Warrior Project.

Peace and blessings,
PJ Sharon



Excerpt from Heaven is for Heroes

        As promised we ate fish for dinner. Three trout, two large-mouth bass and an old boot made up the day’s catch. The old boot was thrown back along with a dozen sun-fish, and both Brig and Alex were a deep shade of red-brown like native warriors. I was a lobster. Red stripes marked all of the areas I’d missed with the sun block, and I’d forgotten my face entirely. My cheeks and forehead felt hot and tight, my nose stiff.
        “Are you sure you still want to go to the movies?” Alex looked on with sympathy as Mom spread after sun moisture lotion onto my skin. It smelled of mint and had some kind of numbing agent that tingled over the burned areas of my shoulders.
        “Absolutely. I’m fine.” I rubbed the lotion on my nose and cheeks, and winced at the sting.
        Alex looked doubtful. “We can do it another time.”
        “No. This is great. I’m fine,” I repeated. I pushed Mom away, giving her an impatient glare. I was going to the movies if I had to bring a cooler full of ice to stick my face in. The only movie theatre in a thirty mile radius was an old Drive-In that had been open for decades. I couldn’t wait to be alone in the CR-V with Alex. Then we’d see if he was interested in me.         
        Another shiver ran through me. Great, now I had the chills to alternate with the flames of hell. The thought of Alex touching me suddenly didn’t sound so appealing. Crap.
        “Take it with you,” Mom said, a mild look of satisfaction on her face as she handed me the lotion.

Award winning author PJ Sharon has several independently published, contemporary young adult novels, including Molly finalist, HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES, FAB Five finalist, ON THIN ICE, and SAVAGE CINDERELLA, Winner of the 2013 HOLT Medallion Award and the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award. She is excitedly working on The Chronicles of Lily Carmichael, a YA Dystopian trilogy. WANING MOON, Book One, was runner up to SAVAGE CINDERELLA in the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Awards and a finalist in the Colorado Excellence in Romance Fiction contest. Her books are available on Amazon, B&N, and Smashwords. WESTERN DESERT, Book Two in the trilogy is now available at Amazon.

Writing romantic fiction since 2007, and following her destiny to write stories of hope for teens and beyond, PJ is a member of  RWA, CTRWA, and YARWA. She is mother to two grown sons and lives with her husband in the Berkshire Hills of Western MA.  Website, Facebook, Twitter

On Conversations: #USAToday #bestselling #author Sophia Knighly

Please welcome romance author Sophia Knightly! She's here to talk about her new release, Heart Melter, the second book in her sexy and suspenseful Heartthrob Series. And Sophia is giving away a digital copy of book one in the series, Heart Raider to one lucky commenter!! So, be sure and check out the blurb and excerpt below for Heart Melter and leave a comment for a chance to win!

Lisa ~

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HEART MELTER

He was her fiercest protector...and her heart's captor.

Scottish surgeon, Dr. Ian MacGregor, has no desire to see his ex-fiancée again. But when the dazzling Broadway star lands in his office wounded, the healer in Ian can't turn her away.

Natasha White has no idea why anyone would knife her on a crowded street in Times Square. At first she thinks the cut on her thigh is an accident, but as frightening events unravel, she learns the mob is after an incriminating flash drive they think she has. She's grateful when Ian whisks her away to his castle in the Highlands, far from the mob.

Irresistibly drawn to her, Ian tries to deny the sexy sparks that ignite as he becomes her fierce protector. Their hot chemistry deepens into strong feelings as they dodge impending danger and he fights to keep her safe. Ian will do anything to guard Natasha, but will their love be strong enough to survive the shocking secrets revealed?

Kindle / Nook / Kobo / iBookstore

Chapter One

      “You’re flat,” Simon called out from the third row of the dark theatre.
      “No, I’m not.” Natasha White gritted her teeth and raised a challenging eyebrow at the director. Her hands curved on the waist of her fawn satin teddy as she tamped down her simmering temper. Simon Worth was referring to her pitch, not her breasts, although he had spent most of the morning ogling them while she danced. It was the third time he’d rudely interrupted her song, and he’d made Freddie the choreographer change her tap number so many times, her muscles were screaming in protest. But she ignored the pain; it was worth having the starring role of Legs LaRue in “The Bee’s Knees”, a new roaring twenties musical sure to be a Broadway hit.
      Simon was pushing hard during dress rehearsal—unfairly so. But what else could she expect from the control freak who had written the songs and lyrics of “The Bee’s Knees” and was also directing it? The thirty-nine-year-old musical genius was temperamental and rude, but that wouldn’t have stopped Natasha’s mother, legendary Broadway diva, Anitra White, from letting loose a rant that would have singed Simon’s bushy black brows. Where her acerbic mother would have screamed, Natasha held her tongue, even if she felt like strangling Simon. She didn’t want any comparisons with her drama queen mama, not now, not ever.
      “She was pitch perfect,” her accompanist, Bruce, said instantly. Her white-haired defender pushed his horn rimmed glasses up on his high-bridged nose and glared at Simon. Bruce was an experienced, old school Broadway accompanist and nobody dared contradict him, not even Simon.
      “Sounded gorgeous to me. Piss off, Simon.” Freddie the choreographer’s jaw clenched beneath his trim salt-and-pepper goatee as he sent a supportive nod Natasha’s way. He had already had a meltdown this morning over Simon’s intrusive meddling in his choreography. His compact dancer’s body was coiled tightly, ready to spring on the director if he continued to bully Natasha. Not that she needed protecting. If she could handle her mother’s tough criticism all those years growing up, she could certainly endure Simon’s.
      “Thanks, guys,” Natasha said, blowing them kisses. She alternately rolled her neck and shoulders, and then peered into the theatre, her gaze zeroing in on her understudy, Lisette Raye, who watched with rabid ambition.
      It was no secret Lisette was hot for the starring role—and the director. The pushy twenty-one-year-old actress and Simon were already sleeping together. Once he’d plowed through the ensemble and slept with most of them, Simon settled on Lisette, who eagerly pleased him in all areas. Well, she could have the pompous gasbag. Musical genius or not, he didn’t appeal to Natasha, and she’d be damned if she’d sleep her way to the top. She’d seen too many failed “showmances”—mostly hook-ups that thrived during shows, but rarely made it past the last curtain call. Hanging around backstage as a child during her mom’s Broadway shows had taught her to steer clear of romances in the business. It had also toughened her enough to let Simon’s insults slide and not affect her performance.
      “Let’s take it from the top, and this time make sure your E makes me weep,” Simon drawled caustically, ignoring the collective groans from Bruce and Freddie.
      An hour later when Elisha, the stage manager, called lunch break, Natasha fled the theatre intent on grabbing a bite to eat and taking her Pomeranian puppy, Evita, for a quick walk. Evita was a gift from her childhood friend, Ronnie, and Ronnie’s gorgeous new husband, Nick Cameron. They’d given her the puppy before leaving on their honeymoon. The moment the puppy emitted a melodious, crooning howl while Natasha sang, she promptly named her Evita, after the musical.
      Natasha hurried across Times Square, her nerves frayed from Simon’s heedless interruptions and unwarranted criticisms. Something wasn’t right; she could feel it in her bones. Thinking back to her horoscope this morning, maybe she should heed Sydney Taggert’s advice: Keep an eye on your back and an eye toward the future.
      She zipped her tan leather jacket against the blast of ice cold air swirling around her. A bit early for such frigid weather in October, but everything this month seemed off.  She usually made her way home at a brisk trot, but today her leg and butt muscles quivered from the morning’s repetitive variations of the same dance. She was used to grueling workouts, but Simon had gone overboard. It was almost as if he were trying to push her to the breaking point. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. He had underestimated the kind of grit she had developed over the years. She wasn’t about to relinquish the plum role of Legs LaRue to a greedy newbie like Lisette.
      With her head bent forward and her heavy dance tote slung across her chest, Natasha wove through the teeming crowd of tourists. She was two blocks away from her apartment when she felt a firm jerk on her dance bag. As she grappled to hold onto it and not lose her footing, a sharp pain sliced across her outer right thigh.
      “Ouch!” She craned her neck to the side to see where the jab had come from. A quick glance at her leg made her gasp at the slash in her jeans and the long red line on her skin revealed by the gaping fabric. Within seconds blood rose to the cut’s surface. With shaky hands, Natasha pulled her long knit scarf off her neck and tied it tightly around her upper thigh, forming a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
      She stepped onto the curb and frantically hailed a taxi. Within seconds, a cab drove up and she clambered inside.
      “Where to?” the driver asked, turning to stare at her when she didn’t answer right away.
      Natasha could barely breathe, let alone speak as she stared at the driver. She swallowed and said through trembling lips, “Take me to the closest emergency clinic.”
No, that wouldn’t do. If she went to an emergency clinic, she’d be there all day. With Simon’s foul mood and Lisette itching for her starring role, Natasha had to get back to rehearsal ASAP.
      When the driver turned on 40th Street onto 6th Avenue, she remembered Ian’s medical clinic was on that street. Her heart leaped at the thought of seeing her ex-fiancé again and it brought an onslaught of painful memories. Given the way they’d split up seven years ago, would he even agree to see her? At this crucial moment, who cared? She needed his expertise and who better than brilliant renowned cosmetic surgeon, Dr. Ian MacGregor, to treat her wound and not leave a disfiguring scar?
      Knowing Ian, he’d take care of her too. He was a doctor first and foremost. Years ago, he’d been strong and protective of her…and they’d been passionately in love. Did she really want to go there after struggling for seven years to get him out of her heart? How would he react to her unexpected visit? She’d soon find out, she thought, quaking inside as she made a rash decision.
      When she recognized Ian’s building, she told the driver, “Stop here. Please. I’m getting off.” She handed him a ten dollar bill and bolted out of the cab.
      Inside the building, Natasha gulped air and tried not to look at her wound as she pressed the elevator button. Thankfully, it was empty and she rode up to Ian’s office alone. But the moment she entered the reception area, she panicked at the roomful of patients waiting to be seen. Summoning strength—and courage—she limped toward the counter and tried not to put too much pressure on her injured leg.
      “Excuse me,” she said to a gray haired woman whose narrowed gaze was fixed on the computer screen before her. “I need to see Dr. MacGregor.”
      “Do you have an appointment?”
      “No, but it’s an emergency.”
       “I’m sorry. Dr. MacGregor doesn’t take walk-ins,” the woman replied briskly. Her name tag said Carla and Natasha wondered if she was the office manager.
       “But I’m hurt,” Natasha said, her voice rising in anguish. She motioned to her injured leg, hoping Carla would take pity on her.
      “You’re bleeding! You need to go to an emergency center. Now!” Carla said with a disapproving shake of her head.
      A collective gasp sounded behind her and Natasha didn’t need to turn around to confirm that all attention was riveted on her, from the buzzing voices of waiting patients to the concerned faces behind the glass reception counter.
      She leaned forward and clutched the counter. “I don’t feel very well. Please tell Dr. MacGregor that Natasha White needs to see him. He knows me.”
      “I can’t interrupt him while he’s with a patient,” Carla said firmly.
      Natasha closed her eyes and drew in calming breaths. How on earth was she going to get past Ian’s gatekeeper to see him? Desperate times called for desperate measures. She swayed on her feet and collapsed, making sure to land carefully on her uninjured side. Good thing her acting classes had included pratfalls, she thought wryly, as she lay on the floor pretending to be unconscious.
      Carla rounded the corner immediately. “Good Lord! She fainted. Get Dr. MacGregor. Quick!” she yelled, patting Natasha’s cheek.
      Seconds later, Natasha heard a deep male voice say, “What’s going on, Carla?” He reached Natasha’s side in seconds. “Tasha? Oh God. What happened?”
      The hairs on Natasha’s arms stood on end and butterflies swarmed her belly at the sound of Ian’s rich voice, resonant with a Scottish burr. She opened her eyes and slowly met his—silver-green wolf eyes densely rimmed with sooty black lashes. Her heart pounded riotously as his arresting gaze locked with hers and a familiar weakness overcame her making it hard to breathe.
      Ian’s sheer male force engulfed her, held her in thrall as she lay before him, almost sick with anticipation of his next move. A jumble of potent emotions blindsided her. Longing, excitement, trepidation, despair. She hadn’t realized how much seeing him again would affect her and she needed a moment to pull herself together.
Natasha closed her eyes and let her body go limp again.
      Muttering “bloody hell”, Ian lifted her up and carried her down the hallway and into a room. She didn’t dare open her eyes. Please let him think I’m unconscious, she thought, mortified she’d had to resort to fainting like a damsel in distress. Before Ian, of all people.
He gently deposited her on the examining table and made short work of removing her jeans with the help of a nurse named Judy. While the nurse cleaned the wound, Ian examined it and Natasha kept her eyes closed the whole time. 
      “It’s superficial. I’ll take it from here, Judy. Please go to Mrs. Phillips in room six. I’ll be there shortly.”
      “Yes, Doc,” Judy said and hustled out of the room.
      “Nobody faints for that long. Open your eyes, Tasha,” Ian said in a voice laden with irony.
Tasha. Hearing Ian’s pet name for her made Natasha’s heart squeeze. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked at the bright lights and focused on Ian’s face. He loomed above her, handsome as ever with a straight, aristocratic nose, a firm jaw and sensual lips that rivaled any Michelangelo statue. Thick dark brows formed straight slashes above narrowed crystal green eyes that raked over her with concern. Ian's vibrant wolf eyes stirred her blood and a tremor coursed through her as his steady gaze held her immobile.
      "Ian.”  Natasha took a deep breath of the sterile air in a fruitless attempt to calm her racing heart. “I…I…” she stammered.
      Ian arched one brow and stared at her meaningfully.
      She rubbed her arms against the shivery sensations he aroused, fervently hoping he couldn’t tell how unhinged she felt. She stared back, trapped in his penetrating gaze. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything to say. He had to be wondering if she’d lost her marbles.
      “I’m sorry I passed out and bled all over your carpet out there. I’ll have it replaced,” she finally managed to say. She held her breath and waited for Ian to do something. A smile, a frown—anything to break the crackling tension between them.
Ian’s mouth tightened. “I don’t care about the bloody carpet. Let’s turn you on your left side so I can tend to the cut.” He placed a supporting hand on Natasha’s upper back and carefully eased her onto her side.
      The moment his warm skin touched hers, gooseflesh spread on Natasha’s sensitized skin and zips of excitement shot to her pleasure points. It had always been like this with him. Ian’s touch or a look from his heated eyes was all it took to set her aflame.
      She huffed for air before meeting his gaze. “I probably shouldn’t have come here, but I don’t trust anyone else with my legs. You’re the best.” The moment the words left her lips, she regretted it. Where was her filter for God’s sake?
Ian raised a sardonic brow. “Oh?”
      This was no time for modesty, but she couldn’t help feeling utterly exposed in nothing but her blouse and bikini panties. A light blanket was draped over her hip, but her legs were bare to his gaze from thigh to ankle. He kept a blank expression, professional as a doctor should, but still…
      She gave a shaky laugh. “Wait, that didn’t come out right. I meant you’re the best physician.” She cleared her throat and looked at her thigh. “Is the cut very deep? How bad is it?”
      “It’s not deep at all. You’re lucky your jeans were in the way or it would have been worse.” Ian’s angular jaw was set in taut lines and his clipped tone spoke volumes.
Natasha lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. She was still reeling from his touch and the electrifying moment their eyes had met after so many years. Now the sexy sound of his Scottish burr and his nearness were making her heart pound and her senses buzz. This wouldn’t do. Ian’s intense gaze wreaked havoc on her composure as she wondered what lurked beneath the stillness.
      She shivered inwardly, dropping her gaze to compose herself. He could read her like a book and he wouldn’t tolerate any artifice or acting on her part. He knew her too well.
      “Are you going to stitch it up?” she asked, finding her voice.
      “No. I’ll close the wound with tissue glue. It should heal without a scar.”
      “No scar? Oh good.” She heaved a sigh of relief. No stitches and no scar. Now if she could just get him to smile, she’d feel a lot better.
      “Be sure to keep the area clean and dry for 24 hours.”
      “I will. Thanks, I appreciate it.” Ian’s expression didn’t soften when she smiled at him. With a sigh, she stared at the unyielding set of his mouth. The same mouth that had once smiled at her with heart-melting tenderness, had crooned Scottish endearments while making love to her, had kissed her everywhere into quivering acquiescence. All of it had been wonderful until seven years ago when she’d broken off their engagement and he’d thundered, “Stay out of my life!”
      “How did you get cut like that?” he asked, jarring her from her musings.
      “I don’t know. One minute I was rushing home on my lunch break, and the next I felt a tug on my dance bag. When I pulled back, something sharp sliced across my thigh.”
He touched her leg again and she jerked in response.
      “Hold still,” he said firmly. One masterful hand held her thigh immobile as the other treated the cut. “Are you in pain?”
      “A bit.”
      He slanted a sympathetic look her way. “I’m almost done. I’ll give you something for the pain before you leave if you still need it.”
      Natasha nodded and bit her lip. It wasn’t so much the pain that was jolting; his touch was making her heart race and awakening every nerve portal of her body. She closed her eyes and cast aside the thrilling memory of his hands caressing her legs when they’d first made love. Think of him as a doctor, nothing more.
      When he finished tending the wound, he straightened and folded his arms over his chest. “When was the last time you ate?” His keen eyes bored into hers.
      “I had breakfast this morning. Why do you ask?” She drew aside the light blanket to inspect the large bandage wrapped around her thigh.
      He studied her with thoughtful deliberation. “You passed out earlier and you’re thinner than I remember. Have you been on some crazy diet?”
      “No, of course not,” she said, wincing as she sat up. “It’s all the dancing I’ve been doing.” She wasn’t about to divulge that Simon had rudely told her, “Better not lose those round tits and ass, babe. The role calls for it.”
      Ian’s dark brows furrowed. “You used to love food.” His elegant surgeon’s hand turned her face toward him and his eyes settled on hers with the familiarity born of intimacy. Their eyes locked like lovers, electrified by the memory of their ill-fated passion years ago when his mere touch could set her on fire. The feel of his long fingers gently touching her face made Natasha’s heart hurt. His unswerving gaze was fathomless as he stared at her.
      “I still do.” She drew in a heavy sigh and broke eye contact as she struggled to tether unraveling emotions. Did he remember how amazing it had been between them? Even in his sterile office, and despite the sharp headache budding behind her eyes, Ian aroused turbulent emotions inside her. She felt hot and cold and shaky at once reliving the memory of their heartbreaking split. He’d been her first and only love. No man she’d dated since had filled his shoes…or captured her heart. Especially not the last guy she’d dated. Tony Martin had been the exact opposite of Ian. Try as she might to forget Ian by dating Tony, it hadn’t worked—especially when Tony revealed his violent personality. After he unleashed his nasty temper on her, she ended things right away.
      Natasha’s phone beeped with a text message bringing her back to her present predicament. On the way to Ian’s office, between panicking and fighting nausea, she’d texted the stage manager and alerted Elisha that she’d had a minor accident and would be late.
      “Will I be able to dance tomorrow?” she asked, fighting the urge to check the text.
      “No. Not for several days.”
      “Several days?” Her shoulders slumped in spite of her resolve to be strong.
He frowned. “Do you want the wound to open again?”
      “No, but…” How could she tell him this show was crucial to her career, when it was her career that had been the catalyst of their break-up?
      “Follow my directions and you’ll be as good as new. When was your last tetanus shot?”
      Natasha shrugged. “A long time ago. Just before summer camp.” A vision of Simon’s snarling face suddenly made her frantic to leave. She swung her legs over the side. “I have to get back to rehearsal.”
      “You’re not leaving until you get a tetanus shot. And you’re not going to rehearsal today.” Ian’s steely eyes brooked no arguments. He was annoyingly authoritarian, yet a brilliant physician and a born healer. She had a scrapbook filled with newspaper and magazine articles about Dr. Ian MacGregor, the eminent laser surgeon and dermatologist, who worked magic removing disfiguring scars and birthmarks. His recent laser invention had catapulted him into celebrity status and garnered him billions. 
      But it was his work with underprivileged children and adults that made Natasha’s heart swell with pride. Since she’d last seen him, he had traveled extensively with Doctors Without Borders and The Smile Train, removing the stigma of disfiguring cleft palates and port wine birthmarks for those who couldn’t afford it. Ian would insist on not letting her leave until he could “fix” whatever was wrong with her, but she couldn’t stay a moment longer.
      “I don’t want a shot. I have to leave now!” Not going to rehearsal was out of the question.
Ian’s silver-green eyes darkened to gun metal grey as they zeroed in on her with such ferocity she fought the urge to squirm. “What in bloody hell is going on, Tasha?”
      She lifted her chin. “I’m starring in a new show and we start previews tomorrow. If I don’t get back to dress rehearsal, I’m going to get fined, and possibly replaced.”
      Ian’s lip curled as he shook his head. “Nothing has changed. The show must go on. Comes before everything. Right, Tasha?”
      His ironic tone irked the hell out of her. “Yes, that’s right. Just like your patients always come first,” she retorted. His accusation rubbed a raw spot as they faced an impasse. He was right. Nothing had changed—he was as stubborn and narrow-minded as ever when it came to her.
      Natasha inched toward the edge, ready to get off the table, when his hand clamped down on her shoulder.
      “Don’t get up. Tetanus shot first,” he said, turning to the table beside her.
      She twisted her neck to see if the syringe was there, but she couldn’t see over his broad shoulders. “Fine, I’ll take the shot. In my arm and from someone other than you.”
      “I wasn’t planning on it,” he said coolly. “Judy will be in shortly.” He turned and stalked away.
      Natasha got off the examining table when he shut the door. She promptly called her agent, Marty Cranshaw, only to get the bad news that Simon had replaced her temporarily and called a put-in rehearsal for Lisette.
      “No sense in going to the theatre now. Most likely they’ll be there all night. Go home and rest, hon,” Marty said in a caring voice.
      “I will, but make no mistake, Marty. I’ll be back on that stage stronger than ever for opening night,” she said fervently.
      Marty chuckled. “I know you will. Have I ever doubted you?”
      “Nope, and that’s why I love you. Bye, Marty,” Natasha said, hanging up with a smile.
      A smiling, middle-aged woman walked in holding a pair of blue scrubs in one hand and a small metal tray with a syringe in the other hand. “I brought these pants for you to put on after I give you the shot. We keep a few extra pairs in the office for the nurses.”
      “Thanks. That’s very kind of you. I can’t exactly leave here in a leather jacket and panties,” Natasha said grimacing. “Which arm do you want? Right or left?”
      “Neither. Doc ordered it in your gluteus muscle. Bottoms up,” Judy said cheerfully.
      “Great.” Natasha rolled her eyes and privately cursed Ian. “Let’s get it over with then.”
      “First a tiny jab, then a bit of stinging as the liquid goes in. Relax your muscles so it won’t hurt,” Nurse Judy said. She pulled on plastic gloves and lowered the edge of Natasha’s panties, rubbing alcohol on the spot she’d inject.
      Natasha gritted her teeth and silently endured the needle even though it hurt when the liquid went in.
      “Okay, we’re finished, dear. If the area gets sore or swollen, put an ice pack or a bag of frozen veggies on it. That should take care of it,” Judy said reassuringly.
      With a nod, Natasha turned over and reached for the scrubs.
      “I love your hair color. I want to dye mine the same shade of red, but yours looks natural,” Judy said, patting her short curly brown hair.
      “It is.” Natasha smiled. “You should go for it. It would look great on you.”
      Judy grinned broadly. “Thanks, I think I will. You’re the Broadway actress aren’t you?” she asked as she helped Natasha into the drawstring pants.
      “Yes. Do you like musicals?”
      Judy’s big brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I love musicals. They’re my biggest indulgence. I heard you’re starring in ‘The Bee’s Knees’. When is it—”
      A few sharp raps on the door interrupted her question as Ian entered. “All done?”
      “Yes. All done, doc.” Judy winked at Natasha and left the room.
      “Are you planning any more surprise jabs before you let me go?” Natasha inquired with a sleek lift of one brow.
      Ian’s lips twitched. “You needed the shot, so don’t complain. You can leave now, but you’ll have a hard time finding a taxi at this hour. My car service will take you home.”
      “Thanks, that’s kind of you,” she said, grateful for his consideration.
      “Are you still in pain?”
      Natasha gave a half-shrug. “Not too much. I’ll take a painkiller when I get home if it feels worse.”
      He handed her two prescriptions and written instructions. “Come back in a week for a recheck. I’m leaving for London tomorrow. Carla will give you an appointment with my partner, Dr. Delacorte.”
      Natasha hid her disappointment. He didn’t intend to see her again? Ian was acting so detached, it made her nostalgic for the Ian of before—the young man who’d told her she was his first love, his only love. If he hadn’t been so dead set on making her leave everything behind to join him in Scotland, things would have worked out between them. It was ironic he was still in town. All that time wasted apart. He had been too damn proud and stubborn to take her calls afterward, making her withdraw and immerse herself full force in her career to heal the pain of their split.
      “Tell me something,” she said, on impulse. “Why are you still living in New York when you were so eager to make Scotland your permanent home?”
      A flash of annoyance hardened his features. "I intend to move back as soon as my clinic is ready. It’s taken longer than I’d planned,” he said in a strained voice.
      “Oh. I’m sorry to hear it,” she said softly. Natasha recalled his Aunt Maggie, whom she’d stayed in touch with over the years, telling her that Ian’s inheritance was still unresolved. Was it because of that? Better not go there. The shuttered look on Ian’s face silenced further questions.

      Ian’s eyes narrowed on Natasha. She might sound concerned and have a kind heart, but there was no room in it for him. Her fair cheeks glowed pink and her wide blue eyes were clouded with disappointment, yet he felt no compunction to feed her curiosity. Not now, especially when reclaiming Glenhaven was so close at hand. 
      The first time he’d set eyes on Natasha was when she’d visited from the States with her parents. She was a dreamy-eyed dazzler, recently graduated from Juilliard and ripe for romance. Ian’s father, Malcolm, and her father, Walter, had known each other since they were students at Oxford, but it was the first time Ian had met Natasha. From that moment on he couldn’t get enough of her. Her warmth and sparkling wit were just what he’d needed during the lowest point of his life when he’d learned many disturbing things about his late father. Drawn into the cocoon of her beautiful heart, Ian had immediately set out to keep her in Scotland as long as he could and make her fall in love with him as rapidly, and completely, as he had with her.
      She’d stayed the whole summer and captivated not only Ian, but also his Aunt Maggie and Uncle Ranald, the caretakers of Glenhaven Estate. Tasha had embraced Scotland as if she’d always lived there. He had loved sharing his homeland with her and she’d been as delighted as a kid at Disneyworld. She’d wanted to explore every castle, sample the local food and fine Scottish whiskey and meet his friends and neighbors. By the end of that glorious summer, he wanted to keep her with him forever, but they embarked on a long-distance romance for two long years, taking numerous passion-filled trips back and forth while she performed in America and he finished his doctoral degree in biomedical science. The moment he graduated, he proposed and she accepted, tears of joy flowing down her cheeks.
      Sharp desire made him shift his stance as he stared at Tasha, a stunning woman now. More enticing than ever.
       “If anyone can solve this, it’s you, Dr. Who,” Natasha said, jolting him back to the present.
Ian stiffened at hearing her nickname for him and the teasing intonation in her voice.
“Don’t you remember I used to call you that?” she said, a soft smile playing at her rosy lips. 
       “No,” he lied, looking away from her tempting mouth. Of course, he remembered. Tasha had loved the popular British sci fi show since she’d first seen it.
       “I think you do.” The tiny dimple at the left corner of her mouth deepened seductively. It was the same dimple that had lured him to kiss her for the first time. Ian's palms grew damp while he scrutinized Natasha's face. Still the face of an angel—a wayward one. Her creamy complexion, flushed pink now, was framed by long, burnished copper curls. Luminous, curly-lashed blue eyes tantalized him, and her mouth, lush and pink, held his attention. It was the sweetest mouth he'd ever kissed—and the most deceptive. 
      I want a chance to make it on Broadway. Theatre is my life. I love you, Ian, but I would be miserable without performing. She’d said those words when she’d broken off their engagement—after telling him for months that she loved him and couldn’t wait to be his wife!  He had offered his love and a wonderful life complete with a castle and servants in Scotland, but she had made an immediate about-face right after her controlling mother had interfered.
      Anitra had flown to Glenhaven from New York the previous day to muck things up between them. He recalled their meeting as if it were yesterday. The witch had laughed mockingly in his face as she’d spewed hateful words. Natasha needs to spread her wings. She's destined to be a Broadway star like me. You didn't really think she'd give up her career to marry you and move to Scotland, did you? To be a country doctor’s wife surrounded by sheep? My daughter adores the theatre, much more than she'll ever love you!
      Ian had barely held onto his temper and hadn’t given into the urge to drag Anitra’s bony behind out of his castle for good. Unfortunately, her harsh words were confirmed the next day when Natasha ended their engagement—by phone. He’d never forget the feeling of being gutted by her and he wasn't about to waste another second trying to figure her out. Impatient to end their little visit, Ian took hold of her elbow and helped her down from the table.
      “Does your mother know you’re injured?” he asked curtly.
      “No, and I plan to keep it that way. I’m not the same girl you knew seven years ago. I’ve made it on my own, without Anitra’s help.” 
      “Still not calling her mum?” he said with a shake of his head.
      “Nope. As far as Anitra’s concerned, she’s too young to have a thirty year old daughter,” Natasha said ironically.
      Ian snorted. “So that’s how it is. Pity that.”
      "I don’t want to talk about Anitra. Can’t we make peace, Ian? Or are you going to continue scowling at me?"
      Natasha’s gaze was direct as she waited for his answer. Now that she’d brought it into the open, he couldn't summon the initial bitterness he'd felt at seeing her again. He just felt empty inside. She had once held the deepest part of his heart and soul captive and he’d loved her ardently, but they had no future together.
      Ian headed toward the door and said, "Time to go, wee nyaff."
      "Just a minute." Natasha grabbed his sleeve and faced him with fiery blue eyes as she tossed her flaming curls. "Don’t call me an irritating little person!" She thrust her chin up and smiled slyly. "Dunderheid," she retaliated, daring to insult him.
      Ian stifled the rumble of caustic laughter rising in his chest. They hadn’t spent more than an hour together and they were already trading insults. Tasha had a way of getting under his skin and provoking him more than anyone else could, yet her quick wit never ceased to entertain him.
      Striding out the door, he squashed the powerful urge to turn and grab the maddening redhead and kiss her senseless. And that wasn’t all he felt like doing.

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USA Today bestselling author, Sophia Knightly, loves to cook up hot romance and delicious humor in her feel-good stories. Whether it's romantic suspense, romantic comedy or chick lit, her books are fun and sexy contemporary romances that feature hot alpha heroes and strong, smart women.

A two-time Maggie award finalist and a P&E Readers' Poll finalist, she is traditionally published by St. Martin's Press, Kensington and Samhain Publishing. Her popular Tropical Heat Series books, Wild for You and Sold on You, have consistently been on multiple Amazon bestselling lists and sold over 100,000 copies.

When not writing or reading, she loves walking the beach, exploring museums, going to the theatre, enjoying good food, and watching movies. One of her favorite pastimes remains simply watching people, especially those in love!

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Write to her at: sophiaknightly@gmail.com
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WILD FOR YOU Book Trailer
SOLD ON YOU Book Trailer
GRILL ME, BABY Book Trailer
 

On Conversations: #bestselling #author Debra Salonen

Please welcome author Debra Salonen! She's here to talk about her laugh-out-loud funny and not-so-typical romance novel, Are We There Yet?, and Celebrate!, the boxed set featuring five heartwarming holiday stories by five different authors, and it's only 99¢ on Amazon right now! So, be sure and take a look at the blurbs below. AND Debra's also here to give us a glimpse into a day in the life of a nationally bestselling author. Check it out and find out just how fun her writing is!

Lisa ~

______________________________________________ 

A Day In the Life of Debra Salonen

What a terrible week to post this! I am a creature of habit. I do my best work when I have routine. This week my routine has been shot all to heck by the arrival of my older sister, who I have not seen in four years. I'm very glad for the chance to spend time with her, since her health is iffy and we're neither one getting any younger. But, having another person in my space blows my routing to smithereens. So, rather than share the crazy days of late, I'm going to post my usual day, my ideal day. 

My phone's alarm goes off at 5:42 OR 5:38. Believe me, those six minutes make all the difference some mornings. The earlier time rings on Tues, Thurs and Fridays. The later, on Monday and Wednesday. I get to "sleep in" before going to yoga. On the early mornings, I get up and drive to my daughter's. She's a single mom and a schoolbus driver. I help out with her six-year old daughter. You gotta do, what you gotta do, right?

But Yoga is a godsend. I sit too much. Yoga keeps me from turning into a hunched-back scribe.

And, since my son is a yoga instructor and he lives next door, I'm able to walk to class. Lucky me!

6:03: start coffee (for my hubby) and tea (for me) then wake up my granddaughter who sleeps over on the nights before my yoga days. I supervise her very quick ablutions then ply her with oatmeal before sending her out the door to catch a ride to school.
 
7:30: Check email while eating my granola. (I'm pretty sure this is a bad habit, but I can't seem to break it.) Here's a recipe I like a lot: Power Granola.
 
8:30: Yes, it does take me a full hour. In part because I'm still answering questions from my hubby or other family members about things that don't concern me in the least. Why is that? Can't they see I'm working? For some strange reason, they seem to think Facebook and Twitter are social platforms where people have fun. What's that about?
 
9:30 - 1:00: This is my ideal writing time. In truth, it's broken up by emails, texts, laundry, food preparation, and miscellaneous nonsense. But, on those rare occasions when the moon is in conjunction with Sparticus, the magic happens. (Don't ask.) The voices of characters who are secure in their own identities and strong enough to avoid my urge to make them conform to my preconceived ideas of them speak to me in strident voices loud enough to be heard over the persistent hum of my self-doubts. You do know writers are a little crazy, right?
 
1:05 - food stuffs: Did I mention I'm a bit of a health nut? My usual lunch consists of almonds, dates, and an apple. I nibble on these while checking my email, tweets and FB.
 
1:30-3:00 - Depending on how much I got done book-wise, my afternoon consists of laundry, walking the dogs, research, reviews, editing copy, or PR.
 
3:15 - school lets out and, if I have the opportunity to spend quality time with my granddaughters, I try not to pass this up because fiction can't compare to real life when kids are involved. 

My older brother is 80 and in poor health. He's an interesting character with a colorful past that includes great success and wealth, but he reminded me the other day that money doesn't mean squat if you're not well enough to enjoy it. So, my closing wish for all readers is to give yourself time to enjoy the sweetness of each and every day. And don't forget to breathe.

ARE WE THERE YET? 

She may be over the hill by some standards, but 50-something divorcee Judy Banger knows she's sick and tired of plodding along the same old road to retirement. She joins a gym and charts a new course in search of a healthier, happier, more adventurous Judy. But the road less traveled is not without hazards, speed bumps and detours. Her first attempt to re-ignite her sex life winds up with a 911 call. 

Add Judy's platinumdigger BFF, a sue-happy lawyer, a carpenter with a Mrs. Robinson fixation, and a young cop who thinks Judy is in need of sex addiction therapy, and Judy's ready to burn the map, give up her exercise class and move in with her hypercritical mother...until she meets Judge Wilson "Wiley" Canby. Wiley embodies the sexy fire and smoldering angst of every romance hero Judy ever imagined all in one perfect package. Too bad Judy's never considered herself romance heroine material. And to make matters worse, their first meeting involves a black lace bustier, fishnet stockings and a whip named Gerald.

If this is the road to love, where's the closest exit? 

Excerpt from Are We There Yet? 

Getting older isn't for sissies!

        Judy had been thinking about this moment for a week and she'd decided to go big. "In for a penny, in for a Euro," Pru liked to say. Luckily, Pru was on a cruise around Greece and would never have to hear about this moment if it turned out ridiculous and embarrassing.
        "I thought I'd strip for you, Buddy. Would you like that?"
        He laughed. A big, happy rumble she loved hearing. "Sure. Why not? As long as you wind up with this baby...," He gave his member a quick flick of the wrist."...buried to the hilt in your coochie-coochie, I'm up for anything. Up. Get it?"
        Coochie-coochie?
        The old-fashioned word zapped a few more butterflies. Old-fashioned equaled safe and non-threatening in Judy's book. She could handle this. Buddy was a friend. He didn't have any diseases...well, not the sexually transmitted kind. She knew because he'd shown her a printout from his doctor.
        "Let's do this." 

Kindle / Amazon Print

CELEBRATE!

 
From USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara McMahon, and National Bestselling and Award Winning Authors Linda Barrett, Rogenna Brewer, Karen Sandler and Debra Salonen.

CELEBRATE! Five heartwarming stories celebrating the sweet gift of romance on Father's Day, the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah and Christmas.

Man of the House by Linda Barrett
Bobby's been the man of the house since his father died, but now his mom is spending time with Steve. Steve makes his mom happy, but no one can take Bobby's dad's place. Can Bobby have a change of heart and accept a new man of the house?

One Star Spangled Night by Rogenna Brewer
Navy Chaplain Lieutenant Lindsey Alexander is not as naive as world-weary Aircraft Carrier Captain Doug Reese believes. When the Top Gun is ordered into counseling, the junior officer is the only thing standing between him and his losing command of his ship.

Love With All the Trimmings by Barbara McMahon
An unexpected reunion at Thanksgiving changes a growing relationship when an old flame shows up just when Juliana has hopes for a future with Matt.

The Eighth Gift by Karen Sandler
When widow Sarah Meyer’s house is broken into and her son’s Hanukkah gifts stolen, her late husband’s best friend comes to her rescue. But as the friendship between Sarah and Jake Goldman blossoms into something more, it takes a Hanukkah miracle to lead to a new and lasting love.

My Christmas Angel by Debra Salonen
"Little Dickie Daniels is a Christmas angel." So, 8-year old Abigail believes...until she meets the scruffy child her mother brings home on Christmas Eve. But looks can be deceiving Abigail learns, and some encounters leave an indelible mark. Thirty years later, Abby--author of the children's book "My Christmas Angel"--receives a call that proves holiday miracles really do happen.

Only 99¢ on Amazon now!

Debra Salonen is a nationally bestselling author with 26 published novels for Harlequin's Superromance and American lines and one single title release with MIRA. Several of her titles were nominated for "Best Superromance," including UNTIL HE MET RACHEL, which took home that honor in 2010.  Debra was named "Series Storyteller of the Year" in 2006. Her current Indie publications include ARE WE THERE YET? -- one woman's funny, quirky, risqué journey of self-discovery on the road to love, a foursome of naughty novellas in her Screw Senility series, several short pieces, including a sweet "love story--not a romance" called A HUNDRED YEARS OR MORE, and CELEBRATE!--a newly released holiday anthology with four other authors.
 

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