Beach Ya You Could Use A Good Read! ~ #RomanceGems M.J. Schiller

There's not a lot of beach reading for this fair-skinned Irish girl. Most of my summer reads take place from about 40,000 feet up. When I'm strapped into a seat with no other demands placed on me, that's when I get to read. But after I reach my destination, I'm more likely to have my laptop out so I can write and keep on top of social media. And if I'm really on a roll with writing, or if I'm really behind, (much more likely the case these days), I'll have my laptop out while flying too. Unfortunately, this means I don't have a lot of time to read. That's something I hope to change in the future.

When I think of the beach, though, I think about taking walks with my hubby, hand in hand, during the twilight hours of the day, or jumping waves with my family, oftentimes extended family, as we all enjoy getting together on beach vacations.

From a vacation to Door County.

I also have a rather terrifying memory from one year when we visited the Gulf Shores area. We noticed pretty quickly that we were getting pulled far down the beach while we were playing in the waves, and we were continually having to make our way back up to where we started. But when the water began pulling us out, away from the beach, we panicked. If you've ever been caught in a riptide, you'll understand the strange feeling. Even knee-deep in water, you can struggle against this invisible attacker. I was able to get a few of the kids to safety, but my husband had to go out to rescue our son Ryan. I was so scared. And I had a right to be, as it was difficult to get back in. At one point, my husband threw Ryan ahead of him, hoping to get him out of the tow, and he did. Then, luckily, he was able to make it back himself. Just a reminder to you, if you should be beaching it this year, be aware of your surroundings and where your loved ones are, so you know if they're in trouble.

I don't want to end on an unhappy note though. I do love traveling to warm climates, hunting up seashells, and drinking boat drinks, along with all the other things that go with relaxing and getting away from the demands of everyday life. We also like to learn about the history of the area when we visit places, and I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy going out to eat.

From same vaca.

I would leave you with a little sneak peek from my upcoming Last Chance Beach Romance, but it isn't due out until January of 2023, so I haven't written it yet, which would make that hard. ;) Instead, I'll share a beach scene from THE HEART TEACHES BEST. Here's a blurb to set it up:

He’s the cop.

Cooper Sullivan is the cop in charge of investigating a murder outside of a Los Angeles nightclub. The famous romance author, Sydney Essex, has been found strangled in the parking lot. When the young officer returns to the scene of the crime the night after the murder, he gets involved in a fight in order to protect a woman, who he realizes afterward, is the victim’s sister. Soon he finds himself torn by his attraction to the irresistible brunette teacher, and his need to maintain a professional distance.

She’s the teacher.

Laney Essex is distraught over her sister’s death, so the high school English teacher returns to the bar where the crime occurred to find answers. To her dismay, she is only left with more questions, many centered on her developing relationship with Cooper Sullivan. Is the pull she’s feeling towards him reciprocated? Or is the handsome detective only showing her professional courtesy, or perhaps even pity?

But he’s the one teaching her lessons of the heart.

When Laney receives a threatening phone call from Sydney’s murderer, it quickly becomes evident that the man who killed her sister is after her, too. Can Cooper figure out who the killer is before it’s too late? And if he does solve the case, will it be just another file stamped “CLOSED” in red, and locked away in a drawer? Or will the sparks that have been flying between the two finally ignite?

Excerpt ~

This scene takes place when Laney is still in shock after the killer breaks into her hotel room. Cooper, his partner Aidan, and Aidan's girlfriend Jenna take Laney to the beach to distract her and break through the fog of fear muddling her brain...

When they got to the beach, they found a spot in some light shade and spread out. As late as it was in the afternoon, the beach was fairly deserted. Aidan and Jenna took off to play in the waves, leaving Cooper and Laney alone. She sat with her hands around her knees in a relaxed position, staring out at the waves without speaking. At first, Cooper talked about this and that, ignoring that it was virtually a one-way conversation. After a while, he fell silent, trying to come up with something else to say. He stared out over the waves like she did.

“Laney. When I went to talk to the chief, I asked him to take me off your case.”

Her head spun in surprise, then she seemed to swallow the information with resignation. “I understand. It’s a good decision. It’s not safe to be around me.”

“No! Oh, no, Laney, you don’t understand.” He turned her head so he could look into her eyes and make sure he had her full attention. “I asked him to take me off the case because--I tried to explain before, but I guess I didn’t do a very good job.” He sighed, then started over. “I didn’t ask to be taken off the case because I’m worried about the danger. I asked to be removed because… Laney, when I’m with you, my thoughts aren’t very...professional.” He saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “In fact...” he took a couple strands of her hair between his fingers, sliding down their length, all the way out to the ends. Then he released them to touch her face, his gaze flickering back and forth between her eyes. “...my thoughts when you’re close like this are about as far from professional as you can get.” His heart was in his throat. He leaned in and softly kissed her lips, meaning to stop there, but he felt himself falling deeper and deeper.

There was a point at which Cooper knew the kiss would explode into something else—something so intense it wouldn’t have mattered if every man, woman, and child on the beach had been watching them, he would have had no choice but to lean her back onto the sand so he could tear off her borrowed swimming suit—and that point was approaching like an express train. With difficulty, the gentleman in him overcame the pure animal lust, and he pulled back. As he did, he opened his eyes to take in her reaction. He saw, to his great pleasure, that she was having trouble resurfacing from the dark place within where her desire swam.

Hopefully, that makes you want to run to the beach with some hunky policeman with broad shoulders. In the meantime, share with us what the perfect vacation would be for you. Would you want to escape to a mountain cabin? Take in a Broadway show? Hit the sand? Or do something else altogether?  

If you'd like to read the rest of Cooper and Laney's story, you can find it here:


Amazon: mybook.to/TheHeartTeachesBest

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-heart-teaches-best-mj-schiller/1118627507

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-heart-teaches-best-1

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/heart-teaches-best-real-romance/id825996257



Thanks for reading! I guess this will be my last blog post here, (look for an announcement tomorrow), but you'll be able to find all your favorite Gems on Facebook on the Romance Gems: Where Authors and Readers Meet page. And you can always catch me at M.J. Schiller, Romance Author. Until next time, enjoy your summer!

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell Three Times As Sweet ~ by M.J. Schiller

 Moms, roses, and romance. Hmm. I know my mom has read some of my romances, but I don't like to think about that, so we'll skip the mom part and focus on the roses. And I know the roses are supposed to be tied in with mom, but when I think of roses the first thing that comes to mind is the year I received three dozen roses for Valentine's Day. 

No, my husband isn't some kind of massive Romeo. Actually, I can count the times he's purchased flowers for me on both hands, and we've been married for coming up on thirty-three years, been together for thirty-five. But the story I'm thinking about happened some years ago...

The year was 1990. We were fresh out of college, having moved out of state and to a city where we didn't know a soul. My husband had begun his career at the Fortune 500 company he hopes to soon retire from. I was teaching junior high school English and Composition to freshman at the junior college. A huge ice storm had most of the city, well, frozen. With no heat, we went to the mall to watch Driving Miss Daisy and keep warm. (This was back in the day when malls had movie theaters. Remember that?) When we got back, my husband expected there to be a dozen roses there for me, but, alas, they were missing. After a call to the florist-- who was extremely apologetic--we received two dozen roses to make up for the mistake. A half-hour later, the neighbor knocked on the door with another dozen roses, which she'd accepted delivery on for us. Whoops! Three dozen roses in the little townhouse we lived in when we first moved here was pretty overwhelming. Needless to say, I haven't seen the likes of that since, nor would I have expected to see that ever again. It was kind of nice, though.

So, that's my rose story. Of course, as a writer, it got me thinking of roses in my work. With twenty-six books out, I'm sure I'm forgetting some significant rose scenes, but the two that come to mind are creepy, not romantic. In THE HEART TEACHES BEST Laney's sister's murderer sneaks into her bedroom when she's asleep and leaves a rose on her pillow. Later, he leaves one on a carousel that Laney was on to taunt Cooper, her policeman love interest, and show him how close he was able to get to her despite Cooper's best efforts to protect her.

In BETWEEN ROCK AND A HARD PLACE, rock star Jasmine Barrett finds her best friend murdered in the singer's bed. The killer dipped a rose in her friend's blood and left it, theatrically, beside the body. Later, a key clue comes from a vase of roses in Jazz's dressing room. The killer leaves a coded message with the bouquet that doesn't seem like a clue until someone casually mentions one of the words on the card much later. That offhand remark leads Heath to the realization of who the murderer is. But will he get to Jasmine before the killer does?

Maybe it says something about me that the only significant scenes with roses from my books that I can come up with are not some grand romantic gesture by the hero, but instead they are foreboding messages from the villain.

What about you? Do you have a favorite story about a time you received flowers? Do you receive or purchase flowers often?

Thanks for reading! Come back for more tomorrow from another fabulous Romance Gems author!

Showers of Riches by Liz Flaherty #RomanceGems

A week or so ago, when I said, Sure, I'll write a post for a vacant day, I threw that title up there at the top to save my place. "Showers of Riches." Because, you know, showers for April. Riches because...well, because no one had used it yet. And because, when I went to adding them up, April does indeed offer an abundance of them.

Both of my parents were born in April, as were my oldest son and two of my grandkids. That same son married my beloved daughter-in-law 31 years ago on the 30th. I am grateful beyond measure.

But this is a writing blog, isn't it, and my writing life hasn't been quite so enriched in past years. While I'm happy for those who've had great years and who are embracing the changes I can't quite keep up with--actually, there's no "quite" to it; I can't keep up, period--I've spend most of the past several years wondering about my place in publishing. In the inimitable words of Clash, "Should I stay or should I go?"

Of course, it was never a real tossup. I'm staying. Probably until they withdraw the mouse from my cold, dead hand. But I've talked about quitting so much my friend Nan rolls her eyes and my husband completely ignores me. (He does that on other occasions, too, but we're not talking about that today.)

So I did what writers always do. I asked my friends what it was like for them.

Kari Lemor said, "Every time I look at my dashboard and see days and weeks of no sales, I think 'what's the point?' But then the stories in my head nag at me to write them. I'm not really given a choice."

Well, yes, there is that...and Nancy Fraser agreed. "Like Kari, the stories that pop into my head keep me going. I'd hate think how crowded it would get in there if I didn't get them out."

Marcia King-Gamble said, "After writing as many as five books a year, and managing a demanding full time job, traditional publishing underwent a change.  Publishers began buying  a different kind of book. Sex really does sell. My income took a hit, but I couldn't not write. There's still a market out there for readers who want good stories with a slower sensual build."

From Bonnie Edwards: "I'm not sure what my mind would be full of. Without writing I envision a huge black void, like the deepest reaches of space...infinite, cold and alone. What would I fill that with if not characters and stories?

The whole idea is terrifying."

M. J. Schiller said, "I've never thought of quitting, but scaling back on marketing, yes! I have a few more books I want to get out and aggressively market and the others I will take more time with and make it more of a hobby than a job."

From Jan Scarbrough: "Writing is part of my identity. When I was getting chemo last summer, I couldn’t volunteer, I couldn’t go horseback riding, but I could write."

Kara Watson says: "I keep publishing so I can make my characters real. If they stayed in a manuscript on a laptop, no one else would ever get to know them. And that's so sad to me."

From Amie Denman: "Writing makes me happy, and I need a place for all the stories in my head!"

For myself, once I asked this question, I thought over and over about how many 1000s of words I've written since the beginning of the pandemic. Did it make my voice different? Uh-huh. But it gave writers an endless and bottomless place to put our frustration. It reminded us every day that even masked and distanced, we could still laugh, love, and work. 

Quit? Oh, no. Not going to happen.

Thanks to everyone for their answers to my "help me with this!" question. Both the variety and the sameness in the answers reflect back to the blog title, don't they? Whether we are traditionally, indie, or hybrid published, our voices and the methods in which we use them are indeed showers of riches. 

Of course, that prose is a little purple: showers of riches, indeed. Hmph. Obviously, I need an editor. 

SOME LIKE IT WET by M.J. Schiller #RomanceGems

First off, you may have noticed that I'm not Kathryn Hills. We did a switcheroo, but Kathryn will be back next month, don't worry.

When I heard the theme this month was April Showers Bring May Flowers, as a romance writer my mind went to a place that normal people’s minds wouldn’t have. Shower scenes! But, since we don’t have a warning on this blog, I need to keep it clean (which I think is funny because, ya know, with the soap and all…). But which shower scene should I share?

 

In thinking through my options, I realized something. I like my characters wet! Whether it’s Killian and Bridey (SIN WORTH THE PENANCE) in a shower on the Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland, or Sam and Kyle (TO HELL IN A COACH BAG) doing the same in Denver. I’ve got Josh and Cassie (ROCK ME, GENTLY) falling into a pool in Vegas, and the teenaged Chase (ABANDON ALL HOPE) daring Hope to skinny dip, along with the adult Chase and Hope in the waves near Los Angeles shooting a music video. There's also the scene in SATAN, LINE ONE where Killian walks in on Josie in the tub. Even in ROCKED BY GRACE we have Zane coming to apologize to Grace on her fire escape during a storm. And there’s dozens more. I mean, you gotta see what the hero looks like wet, don’t you? Just search stock art sites and you’ll see how much people like a guy with drops of water clinging to him.

 

Holy moly! If I keep on with this, we’re all going to need a cold shower. I will share a scene with you, but first…are you a shower person, or a bath person? I love to send little gifts, but when I'm looking at bath bombs, I sometimes struggle to remember which of my kids and their girlfriends are shower people, and which are bath takers. My sister is a notorious bath addict--although she refers to them as wishy-washies--and I follow that family tradition. Some would say I’m a little obsessive about my foaming bath salts, but a gal needs her suds, right?

Here's a shower scene (clean) from ABANDON ALL HOPE. First I'll give you a blurb to help you make sense of things. 

It was one of those mornings for newspaper-writer/photographer Hope Creswell.

 

The alarm clock didn’t go off and she cut her finger on broken glass. Twice! Not one to let such things get her down, Hope headed into her assignment meeting with excitement, only to leave it stunned. Her new assignment is to trail the sensational rock-star, Chase Hatton, for an article. Chase Hatton. No one knows the power that name holds for her. No one knows of the childhood friendship that blossomed into romance, only to abruptly die on the night of Hope’s senior prom. No one knows of the ache still filling her heart. 

 

What starts out for Chase Hatton as an average publicity trip to Chicago suddenly becomes complicated.

 

Chase's manager tells him Hope Creswell will be interviewing him in the morning.

He spent eight years trying to forget Hope, and now she would be in his penthouse in a matter of hours?

 

When Chase opens the door to his penthouse and finds Hope on the opposite side, his heart begins beating a rhythm the rocker has yet to capture in any of his music.

 

The smoldering embers of their former romance are fanned by their mere proximity. Will they both be burned again? And what about Hope’s boyfriend, Phillip? Where does he fit into the picture that Hope is developing?

 

As Chase let the hot water pour over his body, taking with it all the salt and sand which were deposited on his skin earlier, it dawned on him that on the other side of the shower wall, Hope was naked. His movements stilled and he stared at the marble as if he could bore a hole through it with his eyes. On a whim, he reached out with both hands and touched the wall, then leaned his forearms against it, letting the water flow over his back. He could just make out her voice over their combined water use, singing. Since she hadn’t turned on the jets yet, he was able to make out the melody of “In Your Eyes,” the song they were shooting the video for. It hadn’t even been picked up yet by many stations, but obviously she'd heard it. Did she guess the lyrics were written with her in mind?

All I want is to forever be lost in your eyes,
To sing you my love, and to hear your reply.
I strum in the dark, put my heart on the stage,
To the roar of the crowd, but it’s your voice I crave.

I pace in the shadows and wait for my cues,
All the while wondering why I must pay these dues…

He pushed his arms out straight and raised his head to let the water tap dance on his eyelids and flow over his lips and chin. Then, he hung his head between his arms and let it pound into his shoulders, losing himself in the sensations. He reached down and finally turned off the shower, then stepped through the open marble doorway to grab a towel from the bar.

He rubbed his hair, then patted the moisture off his body before wrapping the towel around his waist. He moved over to the mirror, which was veiled in steam, placing both hands on the marble counter to lean against it. He still heard her sweet singing, if only in his head. He snatched a hand towel out of a basket and rubbed an oval in the steam to peer at his reflection. Why the hell did he ever agreed to let her do this story? Her nearness was like poison running through his bloodstream, burning him from the inside out.

The landline rang in his bedroom. He thought about Hope’s email message and rushed to pick it up before the second ring. “Hello?” He noticed the jets turn off in the next room; she must have heard the phone, too.

Over the static, a male voice replied, “Hello?Is Hope Creswell available?”

He hesitated only a second, moving in the direction of the door. “Umm…she’s in the tub. Just a minute.” He hurried into her bedroom and up to the bathroom door. “Hope, you have a phone call.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be right out.” She sounded flustered. She opened the door, jumping a little when she saw him standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, holding out the receiver. Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly reached up to secure her towel with one hand and grasped the phone with the other. Then she waited, pointedly, until he left.

He knew he shouldn’t be listening in on their phone conversation, but he had to get dressed, didn’t he?

“Phillip. How are you? …Do I have my own room?” 

Chase smiled. His plan to make Phillip nervous about the accommodations worked. 

“Well of course I have my own room. What sort of a brazen hussy do you think I am? Oh. That sort of brazen hussy. Oh my. You have been away too long.” She laughed in that low, sultry way that gave him goose bumps. “You’re in London? That’s fantastic. No kidding? Tomorrow? Sure, let me get a piece of paper to write this down.” He heard her rummaging through a few drawers before she, evidently, discovered a pad of paper and something to write with. “Go ahead. The Sunset Astoria Hotel. Isn’t that expensive? Well, of course I’m worth it. I never questioned that,” she teased. “But can you afford it? What do you mean something special? All right,” she said with a sigh. “I guess I’ll have to wait then. I’ll see you tomorrow night. You, too. I will. Goodbye.”

He listened for any type of reaction to the phone call—an excited squeal, happy humming, Hope throwing the phone against the wall—but he heard…nothing. 

It sounds like What’s-His-Name is on his way back.

He knew perfectly well his name was Phillip, but he preferred not to acknowledge that. 

It’s not like the two are engaged. And I’ll be damned if I let her walk out on my life again. So, I’ve got tonight.

 If you'd like to find out who comes out on top with this one, you can purchase it here:

Amazon:  mybook.to/AbandonAllHope

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/abandon-all-hope-mj-schiller/1115678168?ean=2940016478500

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/abandon-all-hope-1

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/abandon-all-hope/id804684527?mt=11

Thanks for reading! And let us know which you prefer, shower or bath. Inquisitive minds want to know!

One Lucky Girl by M.J. Schiller #RomanceGems

Hi, all! I'm the new kid on the block, your newest, little Romance Gem writer, and I am so glad to be here. I have admired these ladies' work, and the way they support each other, for a long time, and I'm happy I have the opportunity to join the group.

As a brief introduction, my name is M.J. Schiller and I write romance, romantic suspense, and chick lit. I live in the Midwest with my husband and our cat, Serena, and we are blessed to be the proud parents of a twenty-six-year-old and three twenty-four-year-olds. (Yes, they are triplets and no, I don't know how I survived those first months with three premature babies and a two-year-old, but I know it was with a lot of help from God!) My four little birdies have since flown the coop, and at the moment I have one in town with me, one in St. Louis, one in Kansas City, and one in Colorado Springs. I have joked that they've stretched the "Mommy Bubble" of comfort as far as it will go. But I feel I am very lucky that they are all healthy, employed, and with a significant other.

The simple beauty of Ireland.

This is such a great month for me to be here and be able to post about the monthly theme, Lucky in Love, because I have a lot of Irish in me. I offer as evidence that my mother's maiden name was McKee, and her mother's maiden name was Callahan. My grandmother McKee came from a family of eight, seven girls and one boy. (Poor guy!) I believe they all were fairly musically inclined and enjoyed family sing-alongs. My grandmother played multiple instruments including the piano and the banjo. Her father was a postmaster in St. Louis, where I spent my childhood. My Grandfather McKee was a mechanic and boxer in the Navy, a cantankerous sort with a soft heart underneath it all. It was he who fostered my love of Irish music by playing The Irish Rover's "The Unicorn" practically every time we came over. (It's a really cute song and worth looking up. :) ) I can see him now sitting in his chair with a smile on his face and a pipe tucked into the corner of his mouth. I feel lucky to have the heritage that I have.

Enjoying cocktails on the patio of the Ballynahinch Castle.

I have also been fortunate enough to be able to go to Ireland twice. The most recent trip I took with my husband the year our triplets left for college. My son Ryan called it our "victory lap" after successfully getting all of the kids out of the house. It was a very special trip and provided an opportunity to spend the night in a castle and hear an expert on William Butler Yeats read his poetry, while his wife, who was a chef, served us lunch. Their lovely home overlooked Galway Bay, an area often featured in Yeats' work. (While these were some of my favorite moments, my husband, however, most appreciated our tour of the Guinness factory!)

How has all this Irishness affected my writing? I'm so glad you asked. I actually used my grandfather's name in my book DAMAGE DONE which is set in Ireland, and bits of his life story made their way into it as well. I also have an Irish bartender in my chic lit DEVILISH DIVAS SERIES. I loved him so much I had to kill off the heroine in the first book that featured him so I could have fun creating a second romance for him. Even that wasn't enough and Killian's second wife also met her demise! (Some would say he wasn't lucky in love!) But, not to worry, an upcoming book gives him the opportunity to make the third time a charm.

So, to wrap things up, I thought I'd share a bit of Killian with you. That way you can see a little of my writing. This is from the scene when Killian meets the heroine, Bridey (Bridget), in SIN WORTH THE PENANCE.




“Killian?” My Aunt Deidre glanced over from her pour. “Be a love and fetch me a bottle of Jameson’s from the pantry, would ya?” She was a sprite of a woman, in her late fifties, and as sweet as could be. But if her kids got her riled up, she could equally be a terror. I kept on her good side.

“Aye.” I turned to follow instructions.

“And, while you’re at it, a bottle of gin, as well.”

I nodded and crossed the room, noting a table that needed to be bussed along me way. Under the stairs leading to the rooms I rented above was a small stock room. I opened the door and felt along the inside wall for a switch, but could find none. I left the door open instead, thinking the light from the pub would be enough to illuminate a bottle of Jameson’s and some gin. I squinted in the murky interior as I searched the shelf in the back for the familiar green whiskey bottle.

Then, in a sweep, what little light there was disappeared. The door swung shut and I was left in utter blackness. I could feel someone behind me and by the alluring fragrance, a woman. She circled me in her arms and caressed the fronts of me thighs. I froze, completely caught unawares. Then she nibbled on me neck, her tongue gliding along me skin as she went. I’d been a widow for coming up on a year, and with no woman, but me body hadn’t forgotten what need was. Heat quivered through me.

A sultry voice broke the silence. “Guess who?”

I cleared me throat. “I haven’t a clue.”

She swatted my head. “Would you deny me, Murphey?”

My confusion deepened. It wasn’t a case of mistaken identity then. She knew me name. An old flame? I listened more intently, trying to recognize the voice.

She leaned in, her mouth at me ear. “Ya weren’t denying me yesterday in your mother’s bedroom.”

Wait? What? Mother’s bedroom?

She continued to purr. “Or did you just want me to remind ya? Cuz I’ll gladly do that.”

Before I knew it, she’d slipped around in front of me, and lush lips covered mine, pulling me into a dizzying kiss. She put her hands on the sides of me face to guide her and, God help me, I knew I shouldn’t, but I responded. Her lips tasted of sin and sweet strawberries. But if she was a sin, she was a sin worth the penance, for sure.

I knew now that this woman was sorely confused, for I had been in no mother’s bedroom with her, except maybe in me dreams. I should pull away. I should straighten her out on just who she was kissin’. Instead, I weaved me fingers through her silky tresses and hung on for dear life. But when she reached down me pants... I jumped, as did she. We both simultaneously exclaimed, “Oh, me Gawd!” mine a murmur of pleasure, hers a reaction of surprise.

She parted from me and the next thing I knew the door creaked open and light poured in. I spun to both find out who this vixen was, and apologize for not announcing meself more clearly. Blinking in the light, I put a hand up to block it, but all I saw was a head atumble with gorgeous, curly, black as midnight hair and a tight ass in jeans the likes of which I’d never seen before. Feeling weak-kneed I felt behind me and sat on a crate.

What just happened? Me brain had a hard time coming back to its normal senses. Was I kissed by an angel? Or perhaps the heavens are playing tricks on me for some reason?

Too late, I sprang to me feet and stuck me head out the door. And, although it was a wide open room with nowhere to hide, me phantom kisser was naught to be seen.

Blurb for SIN WORTH THE PENANCE: 

Even an entire ocean couldn’t separate Killian Murphey from his grief.

But when shortly after his return to Ireland Killian finds himself in an unexpected liplock, it definitely gives him a distraction from his sorrows. Who is the temptress that mistook him for someone else in the dark of the pantry? And why has that kiss set him ablaze?

 

Bridget O’Flannery is definitely the kind of girl that can leave a man burned.

But is Bridget more than reputation leads people to believe? And when shadows from her past come to claim her, will she be the one who ends up suffering a fiery end? Or will she and Killian be able to smother the flames that haunt her?

 Either way, she is definitely a SIN WORTH THE PENANCE!

To purchase SIN WORTH THE PENANCE:


Amazon: mybook.to/SinWorthThePenance

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sin-worth-the-penance-mj-schiller/1132647298?ean=9781644571231

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/sin-worth-the-penance-the-devilish-divas-series-book-6

iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/sin-worth-the-penance-the-devilish-divas-series-book-6/id1474289833




Thanks for reading! One lucky commenter will win their choice of any of my e-books. I look forward to sharing more with you in the coming months!



What is one of your favorite vacations?