Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Spring? Not in my neck of the woods

It's March. Finally. And the weather people are starting their countdown to the first day of spring. Which by the calendar is March 20th, although I don't consider it spring until I see the first crocus or snowdrop peeking out on someone's lawn.  Which won't be until late April in my neck of the woods.

Creative Commons use attribution:

Those of you attending the Romancing the Capital conference will miss the Canadian Tulip Festival which takes place from May 8th - 18th. There's a really cool story about why there are so many tulips in the Ottawa area every spring -- and how the Ottawa Civic Hospital was officially made 'extraterritorial' back in 1940 for the birth of Princess Margriet so the princess could maintain her exclusively Dutch citizenship until the family could safely return to their homeland after World War 2.

But as I said, we won't see those blossoms until May. So those of you in the south who are posting photos of your spring flowers already on Facebook? Picture me totally jealous.

For now this is my view from my kitchen window.

*sigh* Yup, I expect to have a leak when all that ice backs up underneath the shingles soon.  Which might explain why I enjoy writing stories set in Texas. Where even though they get the occasional dusting of snow...well, usually within a few days it's back up to shorts weather. Or it is for us Canucks. (And if you're on the east coast where you've had 7 feet of snow in the past month? My sympathies!)

Feeding the Flames

Sometimes your soulmate has been right in front of you their whole life. It shouldn’t take almost losing them to find them.

Volunteer firefighter Zac Buchanan has been carrying a torch for Tabatha Morgan since…well, forever. A promise he made years ago backfired, sending Tabatha into the arms of another man, and him into a decade of heartache. Now Tabatha’s back in town, newly divorced, and the sparks between them are setting them both aflame.

Tabatha would have bet her secret five-alarm chili recipe that her school girl crush on Zac had died out long ago. Except those slumbering embers reignited the moment Zac walked into her diner. Now each time she sees him—hears him, thinks about him—she can’t imagine her life without him again.

But if their new-found love and sizzlin’ hot action in the bedroom—and living room, kitchen and bathroom—is to survive, Tabatha must also accept the smoke, flames and danger of Zac’s job. Or their happy-ever-after will forever be extinguished.

FEEDING THE FLAMES was originally part of the FIVE ALARM ALPHAS bundle.

Smashwords:  http://bit.ly/1z9TTqH
Amazon.com http://mybook.to/FeedingtheFlames
Kobo http://bit.ly/1zATQrt
Nook http://bit.ly/1I261EU
iTunes http://bit.ly/1zSycm3


Quinn squared his shoulders. “Did you ever consider that you’ve been dating her all along.”
What the fuck? “No. Dates involve holding hands and kissing. Going home and getting naked and sweaty.” He adjusted himself at his body’s reaction to that image.

“Think about it, Z. How many times do you stop by her place and have dinner with her in your average week?”

Four times last week.

“Who helped her paint the diner after the asshole she hired disappeared partway through?”

“Both of us.”

Quinn shook his head. “I helped paint half of one wall before I got called in for an extra shift. But you helped not only paint the diner, but put down a new floor, and made sure her sprinkler system and electrical was up to snuff. And how many movie marathons have you guys had?”

They’d watched the entire Breaking Bad series, eight seasons of Criminal Minds, and watched Firefly at least a dozen times. And he’d enjoyed every damned minute.

“Hell, you even told me that she fell asleep with her head on your lap last week, remember?”

It had been hell and heaven at the same time—heaven with her hair spilling onto his lap, over his fingers, her lips curled into a soft smile, her breath warm against his jeans-covered cock. Hell because he kept picturing her waking up, lowering his zipper and taking his cock in her mouth. Hell, because she hadn’t. When she’d finally awoken, he’d made a mad dash to the bathroom to beat one off.

Quinn continued, obviously unaware of the memory he’d revived—or maybe he was and wanted to drive home his point. “You know what her favorite dessert is.” Cheesecake. “Her favorite movie.” A tie between Princess Bride and Serenity. “You know that she loves manicures, pedicures, back rubs, and vintage clothing.”

“Hey, you know all that stuff too. Which means you’re perfect for her.” The fuel tank refilled, he replaced the nozzle in the tank and climbed back into the chopper.

If he’d been hoping Quinn would give up and leave him alone as he parked the chopper in its reserved spot, he’d been dead wrong. The moment he finished his final inspection, Quinn started after him again. “Just take her to the concert already. Give things a chance—and don’t deliberately try to screw things up to push her my way. You have to give it a real shot.”

“What if I scare her off?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Buchanan, I don’t remember you ever bein’ such a whiney ass girl. You’ve put Tab up on this fucking high virgin pedestal. She isn’t afraid of you because she already knows all the worst parts about you. Trust me.”

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