Best-Seller Mysteries for Your Summer Reading

 

TS-505254387 Murder Mystery1It’s time to gather up mystery fare for the long, lazy days of summer. If you are a fan of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, you’ll like two new best sellers.

For those attracted to mean-girl protagonists, try Jessica Knoll’s The Luckiest Girl Alive. Ani FaNelli has reinvented herself as a New York magazine writer, boasting a wealthy fiancé and a brand-name wardrobe, but the past threatens her perfect life when she agrees to participate in a documentary about a long-ago shooting at her fancy private high school.

If twists by an unreliable narrator were your Gone Girl turn-on, then The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins is your English cup of tea. Protagonist Rachel is a boozy, fantasizing mess who has been fired from her job but structures her days by continuing her London train commute, a trip that conveniently allows her to spy on the street where her ex-husband and his new wife live. She fantasizes about the street’s other inhabitants, including a young couple, and when the young woman goes missing, Rachel injects herself into the police inquiry and the lives of the missing woman’s husband and her own ex-husband.

TS-101152226 murder Mystery2Of course, there are many well-known writers on the best-seller list this summer–James Patterson, David Balducci, John Sanford, etc.–but if you’re tired of urban crime detectives, try these alternatives. First, how about a trip to Wyoming’s high plains to meet Craig Johnson’s Sheriff Walt Longmire? In Cold Bones, Longmire investigates whether a local Cheyenne man’s murder is related to valuable dinosaur bones unearthed on his property.

Another alternative detective is “enigmatologist” Jeremy Logan in Lincoln Child’s The Forgotten Room. Logan is called in by a prestigious think tank to investigate the suicide of a respected doctor following suddenly bizarre behavior and, in the organization’s sprawling mansion, discovers a secret room full of old equipment for mysterious experiments.

Finally, Stephen King’s 2015 Edgar Award-winning Mr. Mercedes plays with the trappings of the hard-boiled detective story but transforms it with unlikely heroes, including a nervous 43-year-old spinster, who take on the unsolved murder of 23 people run down by a stolen car and then race to prevent the crazed killer from more deadly mayhem. For more options: http://www.amazon.com/Best-Sellers-Books-Mystery-Thriller-Suspense/zgbs/books/18

ABOUT  KATHERINE SHARMA

Katherine Sharma’s family roots are in Louisiana, Oklahoma and Texas. But after her early childhood in Texas, she has moved around the country and lived in seven other states, from Virginia to Hawaii. She currently resides in California with her husband and three children. She has also traveled extensively in Europe, Africa and Asia, and makes regular visits to family in India. After receiving her bachelor’s degree. in economics and her master’s degree in journalism from the University of Michigan, Katherine worked as a newspaper and magazine writer and editor for more than 15 years. She then shifted into management and marketing roles for firms in industries ranging from outdoor recreation to insurance to direct marketing. Although Katherine still works as a marketing consultant, she is now focused on creative writing.

Just in Time for Wedding Fever – Five Romantic Proposals

From Amazon.com and Kindle Blog Writers:

Just in time for June weddings, Debbie Mason asked five New York Times bestselling contemporary romance writers how their husbands popped the question:

 

Robyn Carr, author of Never Too Late

robyn carrMy boyfriend took me on a little canoe outing down a river in Minnesota, in which the mosquito is the state bird.  The river was speckled with little islands where one could lounge and talk and be romantic.  He brought a pillow and blanket, and the mosquitoes were eating us alive.  I slapped and complained, and we went to isle after isle up and down the river and within an hour looked like we had chickenpox.  There was no lounging, no romance, and I begged to go indoors while I scratched and swatted, which led to a fight, which led to him throwing the pillow at me and telling me I’d complain about a million dollars.  And inside the pillow was a lovely little engagement ring.  We got married the following June and have sworn off canoe trips, especially in Minnesota.

 

Kristan Higgins, author of Waiting on You

krista higginsMcIrish, being a man, is not exactly a master of subtlety. Though we’d only dated six weeks, I knew the guy was crazy about me (it was mutual), and we wanted to be together forever. Unfortunately, the lad wanted to take me to see the full moon rising over the East River.  So we walked over to the United Nations, choking on the exhaust fumes from the East Side Highway, and there, in front of the building that represents, uh…getting along and not fighting and stuff…he popped the question. Forgot to buy a ring. It was okay. I said yes. I’d give him a D for proposing and an A+ for husband.

 

Brenda Novak, author of This Heart of Mine

brenda novakI was only nineteen when my husband proposed (he was twenty-four). We were living and working in Los Angeles—where I knocked on doors, setting up appointments for him to sell insulation on a summer program for college students, which proves true love right there—when he bought me a ring. He had only $600 and bought a ring from a pawn shop, which he carried in his shoe (since he didn’t have any pockets) while we were visiting Mexico with a group of friends. I could tell something was going on with him and his buddies, but it wasn’t until he took me out to a seafood restaurant that night (a big splurge since we didn’t get paid until the end of the summer), and that was where he proposed. We now have five grown children and have been married more than thirty years!

 

Jill Shalvis, author of Still the One

jill shavisI’d just had one of those days where I’d locked my keys in my car (while it was running) and I’d been let go at the bank where I worked (low man on the totem pole) and I was pretty sure life sucked beans.  Alpha Man rescued me (and my car) and made me dinner and then we had an earthquake.  A small one, and because this was L.A., neither of us were surprised.  But it was sort of the last straw for me, and I said I was going to go to bed until life straightened up or until someone brought me cookies, whichever came first.  Alpha Man brought me cookies.  And a ring… and said he’d keep bringing me cookies for the rest of my life if I married him.  I’m not stupid; I married him!

 

JoAnn Ross, author of You Again

joann rossWhen I was eighteen, my boyfriend bought me a bag of saltwater taffy at Depoe Bay on the Oregon Coast, then we strolled across the street to the sea wall. And as we watched the resident whales, he proposed. 0f course I said yes! (Back then the girl could be had for taffy. LOL) Everyone said it’d never last, but we’re celebrating our 50th anniversary this June. We visit often because it’s still our most romantic place on earth, which is why I set my Shelter Bay books there.

 

 

 

6a00e54ed05fc2883301bb08330644970dDebbie Mason is the bestselling author of a contemporary romance series set in Christmas, Colorado.  Her husband proposed to her on Christmas Eve, of course!

If It Was Easy: The Misfires of Marriage

 

200311046-001When you said “I do,” you promised you’d stick it out no matter how sick, poor or miserable you got. Now you realize till death do us part is a really long time. Happily ever after? Perhaps a slight exaggeration.

Honeymoon is for the roughly half of us still hanging in there, mostly happily.

Author Jenna McCarthy presents an uproarious but insightful peek behind the curtains at the unholy state of matrimony in her latest book, If It Was Easy, They’d Call the Whole Damn Thing a Honeymoon: Living with and Loving the TV-Addicted, Sex-Obsessed, Not-So-Handy Man You Married. honeymoonWith ballsy wit and bawdy humor, she explores everything from male domestic idiocy and the frustrating misfires in spousal communication to how to stay true to the peskiest of vows: forsaking all others. Part in-your-face guide, part brutal confession, this book is a must-read manifesto on surviving marriage in an age when everyone seems to live forever and getting a divorce is as easy as ordering a latte.

Here is an excerpt:

Til Death Do Us Part Is a Really Long Time

“This book was born of something from which few good things (besides hot, furious makeup sex) ever come: a nasty, name-calling, knock-down, drag-out brawl with my husband. After we exchanged some particularly ugly insults and I lobbed a large cup of ice at his head, we did what the pros tell you never, ever to do (besides lob large cups of ice at your partner’s head): We went to bed angry at each other. Pissed off, if we’re being totally honest here. When we woke up in the morning, I looked at the man I’ve spent thirteen years assuming I will purchase adjacent cemetery plots with and I thought:

“I hate you.

“Now, as husbands go, I have to admit I did all right. Joe is unquestionably handsome, doesn’t leave ragged toenail clippings scattered about the house, and has never once, in nearly five thousand days of togetherness, left the toilet seat up. He’s seen me naked on numerous occasions and still wants to have sex with me. All in all, he’s a catch by pretty much anyone’s standards. And yet he still can make me madder than a bag of rabid badgers.

TS-507546185 Mad Couple“Like I said, my husband is a decent guy. No, he’s a great guy. But living with the same person day in and day out, for years on end, is no confetti-dusted cakewalk. I once saw a comedienne slay an entire audience with this line: “When I said ’til death do us part, I had no idea it was going to take this long.”

Clearly she was joking. Mostly.

Ms. McCarthy’s TEDx talk has over 3 million views. In it, she shares surprising research on how marriages (especially happy marriages) really work. One tip: Do not try to win an Oscar for best actress.

Watch her hilarious trailer for her new book, too.

McCarthy’s past books include The Parent Trip: From High Heels and Parties to Highchairs and Potties and Cheers to the New Mom/Cheers to the New Dad, as well as the upcoming companion books Big Rigs for Moms and Tea Parties for Dads.

What others say:

“If Chelsea Handler and Dr. Phil had a love child, it would be Jenna McCarthy.” — Celia Rivenbark

 

300 Sandwiches Launch a Love Story & Cookbook

 

300 sands“Make me a sandwich!”

It’s not the most romantic line a boyfriend can utter to his girlfriend, but that simple “command” sparked a new blog with a very interesting story.

Stephanie Smith is a Midwestern girl living in New York City and working as a writer for the New York Post. Not one to back down from a challenge, when her boyfriend Eric (aka E) made a casual comment about sandwiches, Stephanie ran with it and began making sandwiches and writing a blog. Little did she know that she would be creating one of the sexier and more controversial love stories of her time.

Stephanie launched her blog, 300sandwiches.com, with the following story:

Things are fairly serious between E and I. We’ve been dating for more than a year, and recently, we moved in together to a lovely Brooklyn apartment. We talk about the future—-getting a dog, buying a country house, we’ve even talked about having a family without him breaking into a cold sweat and changing the subject. But I didn’t know when E would be ready for marriage. Like every woman in her mid-30s in a relationship, I wondered if we were going to go the distance.

I realized what it would take to get him to commit after the first time I made him a turkey on whole wheat bread, with mustard, lettuce and Swiss cheese.

dagwood“Honey, this is the best sandwich ever!” . . . And then, he dropped a bomb me: “You’re, like, 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring.”

That was it—a proposal hinged on me making him sandwiches.

The proposal from E came with sandwich #257, and Stephanie now has her own cookbook, 300 Sandwiches: A Multilayered Love Story . . . with Recipes. She and Eric will marry this week.  Whether you agree with Stephanie and E’s philosophy or not, no matter how you slice it, she got her man.

300 sands1300 Sandwiches is the story of Stephanie and E’s epic journey of bread and betrothal, with a whole loaf of recipes to boot. For Stephanie, a novice in the kitchen, making a sandwich—or even 300—for E wasn’t just about getting a ring; it was her way of saying “I love you” while gaining confidence as a chef. It was about how many breakfast sandwiches they could eat together on future Sunday mornings, how many s’mores might follow family snowboarding trips, how many silly fights would end in makeup sandwiches. Suddenly, she saw a lifetime of happiness between those two slices of bread.

Not everyone agreed. The media dubbed E “the Internet’s Worst Boyfriend;” bloggers attacked the loving couple for setting back the cause of women’s rights; opinions about their romance echoed from as far away as Japan. Soon, Stephanie found her cooking and her relationship under the harsh glare of the spotlight.

onion soupFrom culinary twists on peanut butter and jelly to “Not Your Mother’s Roast Beef” spicy French Dip to Chicken and Waffle BLTs, Stephanie shares the creations—including wraps, burritos, paninis, and burgers—that ultimately sated E’s palate and won his heart.

 

300 sandwiches

Her appearance on ABC’s Good Morning America:

http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/video/stephanie-smith-releases-book-300-sandwiches-multilayered-love-31145478

5 Crazy to Cool Gadgets for the Temporarily Single

 

ThinkstockPhotos-465006345“Forever alone” is such a daunting phrase, isn’t it? Sure, it’s thrown around occasionally as a joke (because everyone knows you’ll find someone eventually, right?) but it can quickly send you into a frenzy to find “The One.” We all know that process just can’t be rushed (otherwise you might settle for a d-bag), so here is a list of some of our favorite products, rated from crazy to cool, for the “forever alone” (or “temporarily single,” as we’d like to rebrand it) that’ll help you keep your cool and satisfy your need for affection (however fake it may be) while you await your happily ever after.

 

gadgets21. The Selfie Arm– Cool

This spin-off of the newly-popular “Selfie stick” is just a prototype right now, but we can see this actually blowing up. The actual arm itself might need a few improvements, but otherwise, it looks like the perfect excuse for a whole selfie photoshoot. Giving a whole new meaning to fake candids!

 

gadgets32. iPhone Hand Case– Crazy

I’d like to compare this to waking up in the middle of the night with one arm completely asleep, and upon touching it, you suddenly think a stranger has climbed into bed with you. Of course, there’s only that one split second of fear, but can you imagine coming into contact with foreign fingers every time you reach into your back pocket? I’d take my chances without a case.

 

gadgets43. Boyfriend Pillow– Cool

Sure, he’s got an unrealistically large bicep, impossibly bent elbow, and is apparently sleeping in a dress shirt, but what’s not to love? He’s soft, won’t move in the middle of the night, and has no mouth, so you don’t have to worry about snoring.

 

 

  1. gadgets5 Girlfriend Leg Pillow– Crazy

Does this really need an explanation? The fact that they suggest using this as a neck pillow alone is extremely strange. To each his own, I guess.

 

 

 

 

gadgets65. Ex-Boyfriend Punching Bag– Cool

It may seem like just a regular punching bag, but it’s actually got an insertable area for pictures, so now you can get fit, release anger, and get revenge on your ex without the repercussions. If you’re not all that into this design, we strongly suggest a Bozo the Clown Punching bag instead- he’ll also bear a close resemblance to your ex.

 

 

So there you have it. No need to settle with a d-bag with these products here to make your temporary single-dom a walk in the park.

 By Brianna Porter

(From Never Liked It Anyway, the number one destination for all things break-ups and bounce-back! It’s the place to buy, sell and tell all things ex! Sell your breakup baggage, tell your story and join the community of rock stars bouncing back better than ever! )

 

TV’s Bachelor Host Writes The Perfect Letter

 

chris harrisonIt must be those countless number of men and women searching for true love who inspired Chris Harrison to write The Perfect Letter. Harrison has been the host of ABC’s The Bachelor and The Bachelorette since 2003 and has seen his fair share of true love and heartache.  A romantic through and through, Harrison decided to create his own version of a true love fairy tale with his first book, which is a romance novel. Here’s the plot:

Leigh Merrill has spent ten years running away from her past. A talented young book editor on the fast track at a major publishing house, Leigh is determined to build a life for herself in New York City—a life far from the hay-filled barns, swimming holes, and rolling hills of her grandfather’s horse farm in Texas. And for the most part, she’s succeeded. This new life, one filled with books and parties and romance, was everything she’d dreamt of as a girl. Complete. Happy even, if Leigh considered the future she was building with Joseph, a brilliant, generous man who adoreds the very ground she walks on. Still, when the invitation arrives asking her to be the keynote speaker at the Austin Writer’s Conference, Leigh can’t ignore the nagging feeling that Texas, with all of its tangled secrets, was calling her home.

the perfect letterOut of reasons to say no to a free trip, Leigh sees the conference as a perfectly timed escape—just a few days away to catch up with old friends, meet a few potential authors, and clear her mind. But Leigh’s plans for a quiet retreat quickly dissolve when a stack of deeply personal letters from the past are left in her hotel room. After all these years of running, Leigh has nowhere to hide. In her hands she holds the letters that bare her soul and her secrets, the letters she wrote to one man, the love of her life—Jake. With her past and present crashing in around her, Leigh must decide just how much she’s willing to risk for love.

A remarkable debut by a modern-day love expert, The Perfect Letter is a must-read for Bachelor fans, and hopeless romantics everywhere.

Chris Harrison Interview on Meredith show – discusses his divorce (two months ago)

Put Biographies on Your Summer Reading List

By Katherine Sharma

TS-488651959 summer ReadingI’m a fan of fiction, but I also love biographies and memoirs–from weighty tomes like Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson to slim books heavy with inspiration like I Am Malala by the youngest Nobel Peace Prize-winner Malala Yousafzai, from souffles like Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert to the hard-to-swallow agonies of Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, from the laughter of Bossypants by Tina Fey to the lyrical grief of The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.

I’m certainly not alone in appreciation of biographical literature. Biographies, autobiographies, memoirs and biographical fiction (which embellishes historical fact with imagined elements) are very popular in the book marketplace. Ever wondered why? When publisher Alfred A. Knopf checked with its 70,000-odd followers on Twitter to ask why biographies are popular, the answers fell into four categories: To better understand a certain era (history); to better understand a favorite artist (or hero); to learn something about life from someone who’s lived it; and to be inspired. In other posts, biography readers explain that they hope to mine the lives of others for lessons that will promote self-discovery and inspire personal courage, hope and change. Some say they seek a sort of mentoring at a remove, via others’ path to achievement and forewarning of pitfalls. And still other readers say they hope to promote mental and spiritual growth by exposure to different perspectives, experiences, times and cultures. A well-written biography can certainly aid readers with those goals. So put a few biographies on your summer reading list. For the “top 100 biographies and memoirs to read in a lifetime,” courtesy of Amazon, go to http://www.amazon.com/b?ie=UTF8&node=11021806011

ABOUT  KATHERINE SHARMA

Katherine Sharma’s family roots are in Louisiana, Oklahoma and Texas. But after her early childhood in Texas, she has moved around the country and lived in seven other states, from Virginia to Hawaii. She currently resides in California with her husband and three children. She has also traveled extensively in Europe, Africa and Asia, and makes regular visits to family in India. After receiving her bachelor’s degree. in economics and her master’s degree in journalism from the University of Michigan, Katherine worked as a newspaper and magazine writer and editor for more than 15 years. She then shifted into management and marketing roles for firms in industries ranging from outdoor recreation to insurance to direct marketing. Although Katherine still works as a marketing consultant, she is now focused on creative writing.

Love On A Dare–Will She Win or Lose?

 

ThinkstockPhotos-99273067His lips softened over mine, teasing and cajoling, seducing me with promise. He tasted of wine and desire. He pressed me closer, molding me to his taut frame. Fire swept up my spine and I curled my arms around his neck, lost in his heat, wanting more. Tiny sounds of pleasure I barely recognized as mine escaped me. An ache built deep inside and I forgot everything but the feel of his lips and his body. He cradled the back of my head with his hands, burying his fingers in my hair. I’d never before been kissed like this, with an urgency and expertise that turned my insides to liquid and made me forget everything but the man who held me in his arms.

Suddenly the sounds of clapping and shouts of “More! More!” rose around us, releasing me from my sensual haze. Embarrassment swirled through me and I jumped back. My breathing harsh, I stared at the man in front of me. His ragged breathing matched mine. The intensity in his deep brown eyes made me shift uncomfortably.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” I managed on a shaky breath. My face burning, I hurried over to the table where my friends waited—laughing and leading the crowd into even louder claps and cheers. Calls for more kisses reverberated through the bar, filled with patrons eager to get a start on the June weekend.

“Danielle, that was great,” Amy said when I reached the table. She wiped tears from her eyes. “I can’t remember when I laughed so hard.”

I scooped my purse from the chair where I’d left it and sent a narrowed-eyed glare around the table. “I can’t believe you made me kiss a stranger in a bar.”

“Stop pretending,” Maddie said with a laugh. “You’ve been ogling him since we got here. It’s your thirtieth birthday. Let loose. You wanted to kiss him. And you know you can never turn down a dare.”

My friends and I had been together since kindergarten. They knew me well. Unfortunately for me, they knew I’d always been competitive. Maybe it was being raised with three brothers, but I’ve never met a challenge I didn’t accept. And I never lost. Taking on whatever dares my brothers threw at me, I’d gotten myself into lots of scrapes growing up, to the chagrin of my parents. But I was thirty now, and kissing strange men in bars was too much, even for me.

Amy stopped laughing and looked beyond me. “I think he’s going to come over.”

Heart thumping, I turned around. At the bar, his friends, all part of a bachelor party, laughed and egged him on. I thought I saw money exchange hands. The jerks were placing bets! The handsome stranger walked toward me.

Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help appreciating his good looks as he strode closer. His black T-shirt stretched over his muscular chest, and his wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. Black jeans rode low on his slim hips and encased his long legs. Having been in his arms, I knew he towered over me by at least a foot. His hair was cut short, but the shadow of a beard on his chiseled face gave him a dangerous look and saved him from seeming too “corporate.”

He smiled when he reached me, a wide smile showing even, white teeth. My traitorous heart did a little flip. I felt another flush creep over my face.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he said in a deep voice with a trace of a soft Southern accent. Humor shone from his brown eyes. “I’ve never had a beautiful stranger come up to me and start kissing me. I liked it.”

He stood a whisper away. I inhaled his scent of spice and male and the lingering notes of the wine he’d been drinking. I was never at a loss for words, but his raw masculinity made my words stick in my throat.

Behind me, Amy snickered. I silenced her with a glare, and then turned back to the handsome stranger. “I do need to apologize,” I said, finding my voice. “My friends dared me to kiss you. I’m sorry I used you like that.”

“You can use me anytime,” he said in a smoky voice.

His voice, his words, the appreciation in his eyes, all made my insides heat up. What had I gotten myself into?

“Our friend is suddenly shy,” Alice said, moving closer to him. “That’s not like her.”

He laughed, his gaze still on me. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

I shook my head, squirming under his attention and the stares I felt from everyone in the bar. I hated being the center of attention, especially for pulling such a stupid stunt.

“My name isn’t important,” I said, clutching my purse.

“You’re not married, are you?” Maddie asked him. “We didn’t see a ring. We checked before we sent her over.”

He shook his head. “I’m free as a bird.”

“There you go,” Amy said with a self-satisfied look at me. “You’re both single.” She turned to the handsome guy. “Since my friend isn’t talking, I’ll talk for her. Her name is Danielle.”

“Danielle.” His soft accent made my name sound beautiful, almost musical.

Heat coursed through me. Disturbed by my reaction to him, I jerked my gaze from his and looked around at my friends. “I’m out of here.”

“You can’t leave,” Maddie said. “I’m the designated driver.”

“I’ll wait by the car.” Grabbing my purse, I practically raced out of the bar.

The pediatric office where I was a nurse hummed on Monday morning. It seemed as if every kid in our practice had gotten ill over the weekend. My humiliation over my actions Friday night in the bar had dissipated. I wouldn’t admit it to my friends, but I’d enjoyed kissing the handsome guy, and I had to acknowledge the whole incident was rather humorous. But I’d run off like some scared virgin.

I consider myself reasonably intelligent and attractive, but I’ve never had a long-term relationship. No man I’d dated had ever excited me very much. I usually ended up being buddies with them, like my brothers.

The guy in the bar Friday night sure didn’t give me any brotherly vibes. My face heated now, remembering the sizzling kiss and my wild response.

“Danielle.” Our receptionist’s voice drew me out of my daydream. I turned to see the elderly woman standing by the doorway to the small office the nurses used.

“There’s a guy outside with his nephew,” she said. “Claims the little boy has a bad sore throat. Sounds like strep. The doc is stacked up to the rafters with patients. Do you think you can do a throat culture?”

“Sure, I’ll be right out.”

I tapped keys on the computer to enter the report I’d been working on, and then went out to the waiting area. A man knelt in front of a small boy I recognized as one of our patients, six-year-old Nicky Foreman. His mother, a widow, had recently remarried. The man with Nicky was wiping tears from the little boy’s face with a tissue.

There was something familiar about the man’s short hair and his wide shoulders. My gaze scanned him, admiring the way his white T-shirt stretched taut across his muscled back.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He stood, jamming the used tissue into his jeans’ pocket, and turned to face me. I stared into dark brown eyes. Familiar eyes. The surprise on his face turned to humor.

His full lips quirked in a grin. “We meet again, Danielle.”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” How did this happen? Fate? I don’t believe in fate, yet the last time I saw him we were in a bar in Philadelphia, thirty miles from my home here in Delaware. What were the chances of seeing him again? Very good, I guess.

Nicky clung to the man’s hand. The little boy looked ready to start crying again.

I quickly came around the desk and knelt in front of the frightened child. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” I straightened and turned to the man who’d brought in Nicky. I had a job to do and a little boy to take care of. “You’re his uncle?”

He nodded. Worry flitted over his rugged features. “Will he be okay? I’m not used to kids. His mother, my sister, got married Saturday and I’m babysitting while she’s on her honeymoon. I called her and she said Nicky gets strep throat a lot and I should bring him here.”

“We’ll take good care of Nicky. Don’t worry. I’ll check his throat and do a culture.”

The tension left the handsome guy’s face and he smiled. “I’m supposed to give you this.” He dug into his pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper. “Here’s a note from my sister giving permission to treat Nicky for any medical problems while she’s away.”

I took the note from him, unfolded it, read it, and then handed it back. “So you’re Tara’s brother?”

He nodded and held out his hand. “Adam Delancey. You know my full name. What’s yours?”

“Danielle McAllister.” I took his proffered hand. As we touched, something electric passed between us. I quickly pulled my hand free. He gave me a surprised look and I knew he’d felt the same kind of electricity.

“Now you know why we had the bachelor party Friday night.”

At the mention of Friday night, my face heated again. I looked away from Adam and held out a hand to Nicky. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you fixed up.” The three of us went back to the exam room.

A little later, Adam, armed with a prescription for antibiotics, held Nicky in his arms, comforting the scared little boy. “You’ll be okay, big guy. We’ll call your mom when we get home and you can tell her what a good boy you were at the doctor’s.” Nicky buried his head in Adam’s neck.

“We’ll have the results soon,” I said. “We’ll give you a call.”

I turned to leave the room.

“Danielle,” Adam said, stopping me.

Turning, I met his eyes. “Is there something else?”

He smiled, a bone-melting smile I felt all the way to my toes. “There is. I’d like to see you again.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re single, right?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“We’re not exactly strangers,” he said, leaning closer. “Can I call you?”

His nearness sent a delicious shiver through me. There was no reason for me to say no. But it had been only three months since I’d parted ways with the last guy I’d dated. I wasn’t sure I was ready to start dating again. And Adam scared and excited me. No man had ever made my insides liquefy with such heat and need.

“Afraid?” he asked with a soft laugh.

I bristled. “Of course not.”

A mischievous light came into his eyes. “I think you’re a woman who likes a challenge. I dare you to go out with me for two weeks and not kiss me.” He grinned. “I’ll do everything I can to make you want to though. I double dare you.”

My competitive juices stirred. I couldn’t turn down the dare. I lifted my chin. “You’re on.”

It was my last date with Adam. According to the terms of our bet, if after two weeks, I’d resisted kissing him, he owed me dinner at one of Philadelphia’s best restaurants. Then, he’d walk away from me. If he won, he’d have his kisses and my commitment to keep dating him. Tonight would decide the winner.

As I fixed my unruly curls into a ponytail, I thought back over the last two weeks. I’d enjoyed spending time with Adam. A lawyer, he’d left South Carolina to take a job with a Philadelphia firm to be closer to his sister, his only family. While he waited for his new apartment in Philadelphia, he was living at his sister’s in Wilmington.

What would happen tonight? My insides knotted with anticipation and I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. Ponytail looks good, makeup okay.

ThinkstockPhotos-186474815As I applied a coat bright red lipstick, I felt the familiar pang of need whenever I thought of kissing Adam again. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to do a lot more than that. I’d never lost a dare. But my resolve to resist him wavered with each date. He was charming, funny, and sexy. He knew what his nearness and his touch did to me and he tempted me every chance he got.

We’d waited until his sister returned from her honeymoon before going on our first date, to a trendy bistro in Philadelphia. Adam took me to Atlantic City another time, to a Phillies game, and to dinners at upscale restaurants and neighborhood diners. He’d brought me flowers and candy every time.

The doorbell rang and my pulse raced. I patted my hair and took a deep breath, then went to the door. Adam stood before me, looking gorgeous and sexy. Not fair, I thought, my gaze sweeping him. Dressed in tan slacks and a black T-shirt, he vibrated with a sensuality that enveloped me and made heat gather deep inside me.

He held out a bouquet of yellow roses, my favorite. I could never resist yellow roses. He was good all right. He knew how to play.

“If I could have found blue roses to match your eyes, I would have bought all they had,” he said, his voice husky. His hot gaze trailed over me.

I squirmed under his close scrutiny, and looked down at my black Capri’s. They were okay. No stains. Did I have a stain on my green tank top? I resisted the urge to run my hands down my clothes.

I raised my gaze to Adam’s. His eyes lit with a sexy gleam, a gleam that met an answering awareness in me. Desire curled in my stomach. I wanted him. And he knew it. Well, I’d show him. I’d win this dare.

As I took the flowers from him, our fingers touched, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I stepped back. Holding the flowers close, I inhaled their sweet perfume, willing calmness into my body, fighting a losing battle.

I moved aside to let Adam into my apartment. My cat, Topper, sleeping on the sofa, roused from his nap and opened his green eyes.

“Hey, Topper, old boy.” Adam went to the cat and stroked his head. I heard Topper’s purrs across the room. He really knew how to pour it on. He even liked my cat. Gotta love a man who likes cats.

Adam had pulled out all the stops, taking me on a dinner cruise down the Delaware River. The popular cruise ship, known for its romantic lunch and dinner cruises, was crowded this July Fourth. Once darkness fell, fireworks would start in Philadelphia. We’d have a front row seat from the ship’s deck.

We sat at a table in a secluded corner of the glass-enclosed dining room overlooking the river. The setting sun lit the still waters of the Delaware, bathing the usually murky river in a golden glow. The ship cut smoothly through the water, past the New Jersey shoreline, visible in the dying rays of the sun. The double spans of the Delaware Memorial Bridge loomed ahead, as if beckoning the ship closer.

Candlelight flickered on our table, the light reflecting on the white tablecloth. The shipboard buffet featured rosemary beef, smoked ham, chicken stuffed with cheese and spinach, macadamia-crusted salmon, and pasta—all worthy of the best restaurants in Philadelphia. The waiter poured us each a glass of wine from a vintage bottle of Pinot Noir, then left.

Adam picked up his wine goblet. His eyes sparked with gold fire in the candlelight. “To the most beautiful woman who ever took a dare.” He grinned. “And to my winning.”

I touched my glass to his. “Oh, you think so? I’ve never lost a dare in my life. And I don’t intend to start now.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said with a chuckle.

I picked at my food, my appetite gone. I’d resisted Adam’s considerable charms for two weeks. If I won the dare, he’d be out of my life. I hated to lose, but I couldn’t let Adam walk away. I needed time. I didn’t have time.

Adam set down his fork and touched my hand where it lay on the table. “You’re not eating much,” he said, looking at my plate. Then he smiled, a wicked, knowing smile that raised my pulse a few beats. I’d never before felt this kind of passion with any man, or this need to know Adam better, to have him in my life. Was this what real love felt like?

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” I pulled my hand from his and picked up my wine glass, taking a sip, letting the rich liquid slide down my throat, hoping it would dissolve the confusion that wound through me. It didn’t.

“Could your not having an appetite have anything to do with losing our bet?” Humor tinged his voice.

I glared at him. He threw back his head and laughed.

Our dinner over, we walked outside to the deck and leaned on the ship’s railing. Water lapped the sides of the ship as it cut through the water. Pale moonlight shone a path over the water and drenched the stars above. On the other end of the deck, an orchestra played a slow, romantic tune.

“Shall we?” Adam asked, turning to me and holding out his arms. His lips quirked in a sexy, lopsided smile.

I put my hand on my hip. “Oh, you’re good, you’re really good. We can dance all you want, but I won’t waver. I’m winning this dare.”

He leaned closer. “I don’t think so. Let’s dance, unless you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I said with more bravado than I felt. I couldn’t tell him I was more afraid of my feelings for him.

He took me into his arms and held me close. My traitorous body melted against him. I inhaled his scent—coffee, wine, mint, and Adam. I leaned my head on his firm chest. His heartbeat vibrated through me, sure and steady.

“Danielle,” he whispered. He ran his hand slowly down my back. A sensual knot tightened low in my belly.

The music ended, but we continued holding onto each other, swaying gently to our own music. We finally pulled apart. Despite the warm night, a chill went over me. I missed Adam’s touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked, putting an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m okay.”

He touched my chin with his fingers and tilted my face toward his. He bent his head, his eyes dark and mysterious in the moonlight. “There’s nothing in our dare that says I can’t kiss you,” he whispered.

Oh, how I wanted him to kiss me, but I knew if his lips touched mine, I’d be lost. I pulled away. “No fair.”

“Why is that?” he asked, failing miserably at looking innocent.

“You know why.”

He laughed.

ThinkstockPhotos-137196564The first boom of fireworks pulled our attention to the Philadelphia shore. We ran to the railing as fireworks lit the sky, brightening everything around us. Adam put his arm around my waist and pulled me against him. His touch provoked a rush of pleasure. I’d seen fireworks my whole life, but this night there was something special in the air, something that made the fireworks more colorful, more exciting than ever before. Maybe it was the man next to me. The man who made me feel more alive than ever before.

Suddenly, I knew. I’d waited my whole life for Adam. My relationships with other men were tepid compared to the excitement and sensual energy that coursed through my veins when I was with him. I wanted to keep seeing him, to become a part of his life, and he mine. But I’d never lost a dare. I would figure out a way to win both the dare and Adam.

Forty-five minutes later, the fiery display was over.

I looked up at him. “That was amazing.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You are amazing.”

Desire flared deep inside me, burning me like hundreds of fireworks going off at the same time.

We made small talk as we drove back to Wilmington. Contentment stole over me, along with confusion. Our date and our dare were coming to a close. Who would win?

The usually thirty-five-minute drive took close to an hour and a half with the traffic leaving Philadelphia on the holiday night.

When we got to my townhouse apartment, Adam walked me to the door. I dug in my purse for my keys, and then slid the key in the lock.

“Danielle.” Adam cupped my shoulders and drew me around to face him. “The two weeks is up.”

I blew out a breath and nodded.

His jaw tightened and anger flashed in his eyes. “Seriously, Danielle? I really care about you. I can’t believe you’re going to let me walk away. Don’t you care at all? Is this silly bet worth more to you than a relationship with me? Don’t you want to see what we might have? Take a chance on me, on love. I dare you.”

I looked into the dark eyes of the man I was coming to love. No way could I let him go. I dropped my purse and moved close to him. I skimmed a finger over his full lips, and then stood on tiptoe to kiss him with all the pent-up desire I’d held inside for the past two weeks.

With a small groan, he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I clung to him, pressing against his firm body. Who cared about a bet when I had Adam?

He released me, holding me in the circle of his arms. His eyes shimmered in the dim light from the street lamps. “Danielle,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “My friends and my brothers will never let me forget I finally lost a dare. I don’t care. I’ve won a lot more.”

“I think we both won.” He bent and kissed me again, a possessive kiss that dared me to love him—a dare I gladly accepted.

 

Sheroes: Munn’s the Word for This Star

The Woman

olivia munn2Olivia Munn is feeling pretty super human at the moment. The former model and actress was recently cast by Marvel as the sexy and mysterious assassin, Psylocke in the new X-Men movie. She recently wrapped filming of the Aaron Sorkin hit series, The Newsroom.  As if that weren’t good enough, Munn is also madly in love with and dating MVP quarterback Aaron Rodgers. Good things seem to happen to good people, and Munn is no exception. Continue reading

In Fiction AND Real Life, Looks Can Thrill

By Katherine Sharma

TS-112124384 Couple in WaterWhether to describe, how to describe and when to describe a character’s physical traits are among the conundrums of fiction writers. Many great writers have provided only minimal clues to a protagonist’s appearance and thus freed the imaginations of readers–who are more interested in a character’s, well, character than eye and hair color–to conjure up images that satisfy personal tastes and experiences.

On the other hand, sometimes it is important to plot or character development to describe physical attributes. Especially for romantic protagonists, any description needs to be one that most opposite-sex readers find appealing and most same-sex readers respect/emulate. Luckily, research provides some guidance on physical looks generally rated as most attractive.

Consider just facial appearance: Scientific studies show that women across cultures prefer male faces in the middle of a range from a “masculine” look, with wide smiles, strong jaws, large noses and smaller eyes, to “feminine” features, such as a small nose, narrow chin and large eyes. Men, on the other hand, find women with high cheek bones, big eyes and thin jaws more attractive–consistently preferring facial features characteristic of women aged about 25 (a hard-wired age bias). Some men even prefer the more childlike face typical of preteen girls (hello, Lolita).

TS-57279561 Couple-LooksHowever, men also have different standards for sexy vs. competent women’s looks. For example, an Elmhurst College study found that, in job interviews of women, men awarded mature women, with smaller eyes and larger noses, more respect. Take a look at 2014’s top five actors (Leonardo DiCaprio, Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Robert Pattinson) and top five actresses (Angelina Jolie, Marion Cotillard, Charlize Theron, Julia Roberts, Mila Kunis) to see how well study results fit popular beauty tastes.

For more on appearance and its implications, read http://www.viewzone.com/attractiveness2.html. By the way, if you shrug off the importance of looks in fiction or real life, you may get a shock; in the life-ain’t-fair category, studies show that attractive people earn more salary and get more promotions than average-looking people, for example.

ABOUT  KATHERINE SHARMA

Katherine Sharma’s family roots are in Louisiana, Oklahoma and Texas. But after her early childhood in Texas, she has moved around the country and lived in seven other states, from Virginia to Hawaii. She currently resides in California with her husband and three children. She has also traveled extensively in Europe, Africa and Asia, and makes regular visits to family in India. After receiving her bachelor’s degree. in economics and her master’s degree in journalism from the University of Michigan, Katherine worked as a newspaper and magazine writer and editor for more than 15 years. She then shifted into management and marketing roles for firms in industries ranging from outdoor recreation to insurance to direct marketing. Although Katherine still works as a marketing consultant, she is now focused on creative writing.