On life, the universe, and coffee.
Oh yeah, and books...
**this is an 18+ blog!**
On life, the universe, and coffee.
Oh yeah, and books...
GUYS. I am SO excited about sharing this one with you!!!!
Author Gail Hart has a new release out, Her Magic Touch. I've been lucky to know Gail for several years now, and she is my editing goddess when I need to cut words and just get to the damn point. Seriously, she cut a few hundred words from In Self Defense for me in order to get under word count so I could make the limit for Evernight's Romance on the Go line when I couldn't figure out what else could go.
She's got a great story here that I was fortunate to read as a beta, and I think you'll love it.
Thank you for having me, Loralynne—and for being a beta reader for Her Magic Touch!
I wrote the “ugly first draft” of Her Magic Touch during National Novel Writing Month in 2012. After that, though, I put Sarah and Matt on the back burner to concentrate on my first published romance, Confessions of the World’s Oldest Shotgun Bride. Then this spring I dug the manuscript from the deepest recesses of my computer and got serious about whipping it into shape, and on October 18, almost exactly five years after I wrote the UFD, the book went up for sale on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. Print and iBooks versions are still in the works.
Her Magic Touch is a light paranormal romance with sprinklings of magic, snark and steam. I hope your readers will enjoy it!
Sarah Talbot is trapped in a life at odds with her free spirit. She wishes she had the guts to chuck the business world for something more creative. Until then, she’s eager to explore her newfound gift for casting spells. Too bad the hunky bartender who gets her all hot and bothered has had his fill of hocus-pocus.
Abandoned by his teenage mother, ex-Marine, personal trainer, and part-time bartender Matt Lucas grew up in the loving but chaotic home of his aunt, a quirky local witch. He longs to buy his own gym, meet a sensible businesswoman, and build a secure, conventional life. The last thing he wants is to fall in love with a witch.
Can love conjure the magic these two hearts need to thrive?
Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/ydfjhchz
Createspace (print): https://tinyurl.com/ycqaaoys
Sarah Talbot had a makeshift doll, she had a match, and her boss had left her psyche wrecked and raw.
“I call on the forces of the universe to smite you, Jay.” She touched the match to the voodoo doll she’d fashioned out of cocktail napkins and held the doll over the congealed remains of her nachos.
She had always thought of herself as a sensible person—not some lunatic who’d set fire to a voodoo doll in a bar full of suits during happy hour. But desperate times justified a little craziness.
The flames licked up and devoured the doll.
Stuart Black, the Caldwell Foundation’s General Counsel, sat across from her in the Coastal Zone bar. A man in his thirties with a professorial air, his eyebrows rose into an are-you-on-crack expression. “I can’t believe you did that. Who’d think an heiress to the Talbot fortune would be a pyromaniac?”
“You dared me to torch him.” Sarah dropped the smoldering doll onto the nacho mess.
“True, but I didn’t think you’d do it. Girl, you have a mad on today.”
The lilt of his voice made Sarah giggle. “You sound gayer than a Project Runway contestant. That’s not like you. Usually you come across as hetero as a linebacker. The stress level at the Foundation must be getting to you too.”
“It is. I needed a laugh.” He gestured toward the center of the room. “But your crush isn’t laughing.”
Sure enough, Sarah’s favorite bartender was bearing down on them, the look in his eyes lethal. And lovely eyes they were, the deep, bottomless blue of a mountain lake. Okay, that was a cliché, but looking at this man robbed her brain of oxygen. Especially since the eyes came with shining collar-length brown hair and shoulders broad enough to fill any doorway.
“Oh shush.” She ignored her increased pulse. “I don’t even know him.”
“But you want him.” Stu wiped her chin with a nacho-stained cocktail napkin. “Stop drooling.”
The bartender dumped a container of Margarita salt onto the smoking doll. One arm was charred but otherwise the salt had saved the doll. “Jesus! What are you trying to do, burn the place down, get me fired, or both?” His tone was rough with annoyance. “Pull a stunt like that again and you’ll have to find another place to drink. Lots of people would be happy to snap up your regular window table.”
“You’re no fun.” Sarah’s voice sounded slushy even to her. She was only on her second Lemon Drop, but the alcohol was already fuzzing her judgment. Probably because she was so eager to get drunk. Nothing else stood a chance of making her feel better—other than the bartender with the bodacious biceps. Too bad he looked beyond pissed off.
“We’re sorry.” Stu dropped all traces of the drag queen. “Our joke got out of hand.”
“Yeah, we had a hard day and needed to let off a little steam. Well, steam, fire… same difference.” Sarah burst into more giggles.
Stu leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You’re not helping.”
He only had a few years on Sarah, but his scolding tone reminded her of her father. Ignoring Stu, she pushed her tangle of red hair away from her face and licked her lips. “We won’t do it again—cross my heart and hope to die.” She drew a hand across her chest, purposely drawing his gaze to her boobs. She wasn’t above using her D cups to draw the bartender’s attention away from the stupid doll. She’d learned in middle school that guys would forgive a lot if she flaunted the girls.
The bartender’s expression didn’t soften. “Just don’t do it again.”
“We won’t…” Damn it, why couldn’t she remember his name? She looked at the gold name badge on his tuxedo-style uniform. “Matt.” She smiled, hoping for seductive over sloppy, and thrust out her chest and hand at the same time. “I’m Sarah.”
Up close, Matt’s eyes were even more mesmerizing. She’d never met anyone with eyes that shade of blue. And they were fringed by amazingly long eyelashes. What a cruel injustice to waste them on a man.
“I know. You told me before.” Matt shook her hand, his grip firm but not bone-crushing. Skin made contact with skin, and Sarah’s palm tingled. Too bad he didn’t give any sign he’d noticed her reaction.
“Just behave yourself.” He let go of her hand and his gaze flicked to the charred remains. “Who were you burning in effigy, anyway?”
“Ah. Understandable, but please, the next time he pisses you off, leave your matches at home.”
“Yes, sir.” Sarah flashed him a mock military salute.
Matt turned and walked back to the bar. As they watched his tight backside cross the room, Sarah and Stu sighed in unison.
Before becoming a writer, former Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest finalist Gail Hart spent a few years as an Air Force JAG, then settled in as a lawyer and manager for the US government. Despite what opposing counsel sometimes said about her briefs, she didn't write any fiction until later in her career. She must have been destined to be a romance writer, though, because even the law review article she wrote had "sex" in the title. She spent most of her life on the east coast but now lives in San Antonio, where she doesn't miss the cold.