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Don't miss this sweet Regency, its excerpt, and a character interview!  Ally


Lady Elinor's Escape

by Linda McLaughlin
Sweet Regency Romance 

Lady Elinor Ashworth always longed for adventure, but when she runs away from her abusive aunt, she finds more than she bargained for. Elinor fears her aunt who is irrational and dangerous, threatening Elinor and anyone she associates with. When she encounters an inquisitive gentleman, she accepts his help, but fearing for his safety, hides her identity by pretending to be a seamstress. She resists his every attempt to draw her out, all the while fighting her attraction to him

There are too many women in barrister Stephen Chaplin's life, but he has never been able to turn his back on a damsel in distress. The younger son of a baronet is a rescuer of troubled females, an unusual vocation fueled guilt over his failure to save the woman he loved from her brutal husband. He cannot help falling in love with his secretive seamstress, but to his dismay, the truth of her background reveals Stephen as the ineligible party.

Buy links:


                                         Character Interview with Stephen Chaplin of Lady Elinor’s Escape
                                                                          by Linda McLaughlin:

I recently visited barrister Stephen Chaplin, Esquire at his offices in London’s Lincoln’s Inn to interview him.

LM: Mr. Chaplin, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me. Can you tell me a bit about yourself? For instance, are you originally from the London area?

SC: No, my family is from Lincolnshire. I grew up on a small estate with my elder brother and my younger sister, Olivia.

LM: Where did you attend university?

SC: Cambridge, of course. The men of my family have done so for several generations. Then I came to Lincoln’s Inn to read for the law.

LM: Did you always want to be a barrister?

SC: Not as a child, of course. Boys always have dreams of being brave warriors or finding one’s fortune at sea. But Father said I wasn’t cut out for the military--not obedient enough--though he thought I would do well in Parliament, since I seemed to enjoy arguing.

LM: You do think for yourself. What do you like most about the legal profession?

SC: I find it most gratifying when the law and justice align, which doesn’t always occur. Many of our laws are unnecessarily harsh, and I’d like to do something about that one day. In the meantime, I do what I can to help those in need of protection.

LM: What are your reading tastes?

SC: The Times, of course; all the London newspapers, for that matter. I rarely have time to read for pleasure, unlike my sister, Olivia, who devours every Gothic novel she can get her hands on, no matter how ridiculous. She even has hopes of publishing her own romantic scribblings one day. I’ve told her in no uncertain terms that she may not use my life experiences as fodder for her novel, or she will be very sorry!

LM: Hmm. What is the oddest thing that’s ever happened to you?

SC, with a smile: That would have to be the day I met the mysterious Mrs. Brown, a.k.a. Lady Elinor Ashworth, now Mrs. Chaplin. I was in the West Country, having a peaceful breakfast when a madwoman in widow’s weeks came bursting through the door, demanding immediate passage to London. She appeared to be in need, so naturally I volunteered to assist, not knowing she would disrupt my life, destroy my peace of mind and make me fall madly in love with her.

If you want to know exactly how Lady Elinor turned Mr. Chaplin’s life upside down, the answers are in Lady Elinor’s Escape.


The Horse and Cart Inn bustled with business when Stephen Chaplin entered the common room. The scent of frying bacon soon had his stomach growling. A fire burned brightly in the smoke-blackened fireplace, dispelling the morning chill.

He had no sooner taken a seat at a small table than a young blonde woman with a rounded belly and a beaming smile on her freckled face approached him. “Good morning, sir, did ye sleep well?”

“That I did, Nancy. Are you glad to be home?”

“Yes, sir.” Her pale blue eyes stared at him earnestly. “I can’t be thanking ye enough fer what ye done for me. I don’t know how I’d have managed, with a babe on the way and all.”

“Yes, well, the next time a charming rogue comes along, perhaps you’ll think twice before going off with him.”

“Oh, I’ve learned me lesson.” A blush suffused her face. “Now, will ye be havin’ tea or coffee with yer breakfast?”

“Coffee, please, and toast.”

Nancy fisted her hands on her hips. “Now that isn’t enough breakfast for the long trip to London. I’ll bring ye some of our fine Wiltshire bacon, too.”

Stephen laughed. Ever since he’d arrived, one Wainwright or another had been pressing food and drink on him. “Very well, Nancy. Toast and bacon.”

She turned and walked away, weaving between the crowded tables. She seemed like a different girl than the half-starved waif his housekeeper had taken in two months ago. He frowned, remembering her tale of being lured to London by a smooth-talking stranger only to be abandoned as soon as she had conceived. What kind of cad deserted a woman in a delicate condition? The only thing worse was a man who used his fists on a female, like that blackguard Northam.

Stephen closed his mind to that line of thought. Deborah had been gone for six years now, and if not forgotten, at least the pain of her death had faded. At her funeral Stephen had vowed never again to walk away from a woman in need, which was how he found himself at an inn in Wiltshire during the Season.

When Nancy returned with his breakfast, he applied himself to the large slab of bacon and toast dripping with butter, and then washed it all down with strong black coffee.

Rescuing damsels in distress was hungry work.

Author bio:

Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of books and history, so it's only natural she prefers writing historical romance. She loves transporting her readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the journey of life, love is the sweetest reward. Linda also writes steamy to erotic romance under the name Lyndi Lamont, and is one half of the writing team of Lyn O'Farrell.

You can find her online at
Twitter: @Lyndi Lamont


Romancing Christmas: 10 Love Stories to Spice up the Holidays

Multi-author boxed set
Release Date: November 3, 2014
Genre: Holiday Romance

Cover Artist:

Do you like your Christmas nice...or a little naughty? Bring the season into your heart with love stories to match your mood. This boxed set from 10 of today’s hottest romance authors will warm your heart even on the coldest night.

Just 99 Cents for a limited time!


Join the ROMANCING CHRISTMAS authors for their LAUNCH DAY PARTY! The authors and a slew of their sassy friends will be celebrating the release, November 3rd, 4th, and 5th, 10:30 AM to 10:30 PM (EASTERN TIME).

Prizes Galore, Q&A, Authors, Readers, Books, and FUN! So what are you waiting for? Come join us and have a blast!

~~Novellas included in set~~
USA Today Bestselling Author Dale Mayer ~ Broken Protocols 3.5 

Award-winning author H.D. Thomson ~ Shades of Holly

Chantel Rhondeau ~ Season For Love

Award-winning author Leslie Lynch ~ Christmas Hope

Award-winning author Sandy LoydA Christmas Miracle

Barbara Lohr ~ The Salty Carmel Christmas 

Marcia JamesHeating Up the Holidays

Carolyn Hughey ~ Insanity Claus  

Tallulah Grace ~ A Family for Christmas 

Rachelle Ayala A Father for Christmas

Welcome to the Wednesday Coffee Chat!

My guest today is Voss Foster, who is answering questions about his multi-genre writing.

How do you take your coffee, Voss?

2 sugars, 5 creams.

Ally:  Hmm. Maybe a little coffee with that? Okay, sorry, probably not funny except to us coffee hardcores who drink it black. :) I'll pour, while you show readers your bio.


Voss Foster lives in the middle of the Eastern Washington desert, where he writes speculative fiction from inside a single-wide. When he can be pried away from his keyboard, he can be found cooking, singing, playing trombone, and belly dancing, though rarely all at the same time.

Something Unique: I was ranked as one of the top youth trombonists in Washington State in my sophomore year of high school.

Author Contact Links:


Ally: Shall we begin by talking about genres?  What do you write and how did you make those choices?

VOSS:  I write speculative fiction, and I'm not narrowing it down more than that, no matter how may times I get told I should. I write horror, sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal, magic realism. I can't force myself into a tiny box. It's true that most of my work is fantasy, but some of my favorites among my own pieces have been sci-fi, so it's all a big jumble.
As for choosing them, I don't know for certain that I ever had a choice. Even back in elementary school, I was writing about interdimensional portals and superheroes and cursed roller coasters. I even remember getting a bad mark on a short story in fifth grade because it wasn't something that would really happen.

Ally: Writing in such an unusual spectrum of fiction, what was your route to publication?

VOSS:  Currently, most of my available work is through a small press (Torquere/Prizm), with a small amount of it self-published. For Prizm, from submission to publication was about half a year. But before, that, I edited that book for about three years. It was really, really rough. I wrote it fresh out of high school, the month after I graduated, so it needed some tender care. With a big stick.

Ally:  If you could go on a writing retreat with two other authors (living or dead), who would they be? And why?

VOSS:  Questions like these are always hard for me to answer, but here we go. Assuming that there's no language barrier to contend with, I would definitely put Stanislaw Lem on the list. He's a personal addition. One of my all time favorite books is The Cyberiad, so I'd hop on just about any chance to meet him. And for the other, I'd probably pick Christopher Moore. His writing, whether it's bawdy and irreverent or serious and artistic, is brilliance.

Ally:  What writing projects are in your future?

VOSS:  Well, I'm currently working on a top secret fantasy-romance... with unicorns. So that might be fun, I suppose. After that, I'll be working on book two of my Rings of Vivak books, which I'm hoping will be a fun change from all the gobs of fantasy I've been working on lately. Vivak is a world I love to play with, so I'm really looking forward to going back into it.

Ally: Try these quick answer questions:    
  • a. favorite music while you're writing: SJ Tucker    
  • b. favorite holiday movie: Hocus Pocus    
  • c. what kind of car do you drive, and what would you like to drive?: I drive an '88 Caprice. Given preference, I'd love a Chevy Volt.   
  • d. an item on your bucket list: Meet JK Rowling    
  • e. favorite after hours drink: Brandy, neat

Ally: Thanks so much for visiting today! Best of luck in your career. Let's take a look at your book before you go...
Book Blurb:

Zirkua Fantastic has been running steadily since 1753, amazing its patrons with acts of otherworldly skill and prowess. But that talent comes at a steep price: each artist must give a year of his or her life to the circus. None of them know why, only that the circus' owners will go to whatever lengths are necessary to ensure it. Toby, the hoop dancer at Zirkua Fantastic
and son of one of the owners, is content with his life: he enjoys performing and Zirkua's wandering life, and even has a boyfriend among the circus' hawkers. But when a new artist arrives, bringing with him a strange flask and a number of odd occurrences, Toby falls face-first into the truth behind the circus: Its contracts bind King Jester, the immortal embodiment of chaos.

Zirkua's performances and contracts have held King Jester prisoner for centuries, but now something's amiss. King Jester's sister, Dragon, has escaped her own bonds and is working to free her brother, and his power is growing. If he is loosed on the world, it will mean the worst war in human history and the end of civilization... unless Zirkua Fantastic can find a way to stop him.

Buy Links:

Prizm Books:

Thanks for spending time with us!


Autumn is settling around those of us in the north. Why not curl up with a comic mystery?


Book Blurb:

Baby Boomer Carol Andrews is shocked to hear that her hunky landscaper, Will Finnegan, has died, and feels obligated to pay her respects to his family. But this Finnegan’s wake is shut down before it even starts, when Carol discovers someone has added a pair of scissors to the guest of honor’s chest. Once again, her husband Jim and the Fairport police forbid Carol to get involved. But the always curious Carol can’t help herself when one of the most important people in her life jumps to the top of the suspect list.      


Mallory and Mallory Funeral Home, Fairport, Connecticut
Another Finnegan’s Wake

“I hate wakes,” I said, turning my car into the parking lot of Mallory and Mallory Funeral Home on Fairport Turnpike and cruising for an empty spot.

This pronouncement was greeted by a heavy sigh from my passenger. “Mom,” said my usually patient daughter, Jenny, “first of all, nobody likes wakes. Or funerals. Especially the guest of honor. And Dad was right. We didn’t have to come at all. You weren’t that close to the deceased.”   

I matched Jenny’s sigh with one of my own. “I know,” I said. “But when I saw the obituary in yesterday’s paper, I was so shocked. It was only last week that Will Finnegan was raking our leaves and getting our yard in shape. He seemed fine. And now, he’s gone. Just like that.”

I sighed again.

“Life is too short for so many people we know,” I continued, easing the car into the perfect parking spot for someone my age – the kind I can drive straight out of without having to back up. My neck isn’t as flexible as it was when I was younger. Nor are several other body parts, to tell the truth.

“It just seemed appropriate that I come to pay my respects to his family.” I reached over and squeezed Jenny’s hand. “I appreciate your coming with me, sweetie.”

“I didn’t want you to go alone,” Jenny said. “And Mark’s working. I hate it when he works nights. I always worry more about him than I do when he’s on the day shift. I guess I should be used to being married to a police detective by now, but I’m not. Maybe, after we pay a quick visit to the funeral parlor, we can go out and grab a quick dinner at Maria’s Trattoria. My treat.”

“I’m never one to turn down the chance of a dinner I didn’t have to cook myself,” I said. “And your father has plenty of leftovers to graze on, plus there’s a UConn game on television tonight. I bet he won’t even notice how long I’ve been gone.”

I frowned. “Maybe I should get a pair of pom poms and pretend to be a college cheerleader. What do you think?”

“Please, tell me you’re kidding, Mom,” Jenny said as we arrived at the front door of what some locals have dubbed M & M,  the funeral parlor of choice for many Fairport, Connecticut residents.

I smoothed my hair down and tried to make myself look presentable. The late fall winds had been especially punishing on our brisk walk from the parking lot. I could hear organ music – probably pre-recorded – coming from Slumber Room A. There was a sign near the door marking it as the parlor for the William Finnegan wake, as well as a guest book for mourners to sign.

I couldn’t help but notice, as I wrote “Mrs. James Andrews,” that I was the first person on the page. I handed the pen to Jenny.

“I didn’t think we’d be the first ones here, Mom,” she whispered, adding her signature below mine. “Where’s the family? Didn’t he have one?”

“According to the obituary, he did,” I whispered back. “Maybe they didn’t feel they needed to sign the guest book.”

Jenny nodded and pushed me in front of her toward the sound of the organ music. “You first, Mom. At least you have a tenuous relationship to the deceased. I never even laid eyes on the man.”

Slumber Room A was dimly lit, but it took me only half a second to realize that Jenny and I were the only people here. Except for the recently deceased William Finnegan, whom I presumed was residing in the open casket at the other end of the room.

The organ music reached a crescendo, then the room became eerily silent.

“What’ll we do, Mom?” Jenny asked. “There’s no one to pay our respects to.”

“We sit down and wait a few minutes,” I whispered back. “The family is probably in another room, composing themselves for a long and emotional night.” I looked at my watch. “I don’t think I got the time wrong. I’m sure the obituary said the viewing started at seven o’clock. It’s ten past seven now.”

The organ music started up again. Not exactly a toe-tapper, but at least it made me feel like we were in the right place.

Or were we?

“Jenny,” I whispered, “I think I’ll just go up and say a prayer at the casket. And be sure I haven’t made a mistake.” I smiled weakly. “If I have, dinner’s on me.”

I threaded my way through the rows of empty chairs and found myself gazing at the waxen face of our late landscaper, sleeping in his casket.

Yup, Will was dead all right.

But just to be extra sure, one mourner, who’d gotten to the casket ahead of me, had plunged a scissors into Will’s chest.  


An early member of the Baby Boomer generation, Susan Santangelo has been a feature writer, drama critic and editor for daily and weekly newspapers in the New York metropolitan area, including a stint at Cosmopolitan magazine. A seasoned public relations and marketing professional, she has designed and managed not-for-profit events and programs for over 25 years, and was principal of her own public relations firm, Events Unlimited, in Princeton NJ for ten years. She also served as Director of Special Events and Volunteers for Carnegie Hall during the Hall's 1990-1991 Centennial season.  

Susan divides her time between Cape Cod MA and the Connecticut shoreline. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Cape Cod Writers Center, and shares her life with her husband Joe and one very spoiled English cocker spaniel, Boomer, who also serves as the model for the books’ covers.

A portion of the sales from the Baby Boomer Mysteries is donated to the Breast Cancer Survival Center, a non-profit organization based in Connecticut which Susan founded in 1999 after being diagnosed with cancer herself. 

Amazon Author page:
Twitter:  Grammasuze


Thanks for visiting the blog today. Come back soon!

I hope you enjoy today's spotlight on Melanie Robertson-King's novel of young love and time travel!

A Shadow in the Past Blurb:

When nineteen year old Sarah Shand finds herself in Victorian Era Aberdeenshire, Scotland, she has no idea how she got there. Her last memory is of being at the stone circle on the family farm in the year 2010.

Despite having difficulty coming to terms with her situation, Sarah quickly learns she must keep her true identity a secret.

Still, she feels stifled by the Victorians’ confining social practices, including arranged marriages between wealthy and influential families, confronts them head on and suffers the consequences.

When Sarah realizes she has fallen in love with the handsome Laird of Weetshill, she faces an agonizing decision. Does she try to find her way back to 2010 or remain in the past with the man she loves?

Excerpt (from Chapter 3):

When Sarah’s eyes flickered open, the young girl and her wrecked car were nowhere to be seen. Instead of the asphalt surface of Kendonald Road, Sarah lay sprawled out on a narrow gravel lane.
Sarah’s chest felt like the family’s herd of cows sat on it and she gasped for air. Stones gouged her elbows as she tried to prop herself up.

Using her last ounce of strength, Sarah hauled herself to her feet. Her head throbbed as if it were about to explode, and something wet and sticky ran down the back of her neck. Dirt and blood covered her rugby shirt and jeans, and her trainers were gone. Sharp gravel bit into her stocking feet as she staggered, trying not to fall. Sarah was surprised she was able to stand. She was certain the impact with the car had broken her legs and maybe even her back.

She wiped her hands on her shirt and cried out in pain. Dirt and blood covered her palms, and her knees felt like they’d been scraped with sandpaper. Her chest hurt with every breath, and she wondered if her ribs were broken. Where were the terrified driver and her wrecked car? They seemed to have vanished into the mist.

Sarah barely made out a faint light shining in the distance, and she stumbled toward it, thinking it was the yard light near her father’s barn. She clapped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. Taking those pills had been a huge mistake. No matter how badly she wanted to hurt Blair and Niamh, she realized that she didn’t want to die. She couldn’t do that to her family.

Sarah blinked and stared at one of the ghostly trees lining the roadway. The trunk expanded and contracted before her eyes as if it were breathing. A gust of wind rasped through the branches and a sudden cry of a long-eared owl made her jump. Shivering, Sarah crossed her arms and rubbed, but pain shot all the way down to her fingertips, forcing her to stop.

At the narrow stone bridge, she stopped and rested. As she stood there trying to catch her breath, the bridge began to vibrate and black smoke filled the air. A shrill whistle pierced the silence, drowning out the ringing in her ears. Sarah wheeled around and gasped. Off in the distance she saw the tiny speck of a headlight. It grew larger and brighter as the train drew closer and thundered beneath the bridge. Sarah watched the disappearing train and tried to understand what she had seen. There was no railway line near her house, only a flat dirt trail leading to the village.

Soon the smell of freshly cut hay, manure, and farm animals replaced the lingering aroma of the train’s oily coal smoke. If the barn was this close, she was almost home. Drawing closer, she heard the sounds of hooves pawing…

Purchase links:

Barnes & Noble:

Author Bio:

When Melanie isn’t writing, she’s reading. The writing bug first bit when she was thirteen but the itch subsided and it wasn’t until a number of years later that she put “pen to paper” and began writing again.

Prior to returning to fiction, Melanie wrote articles for various publications for a number of years and has been published in Canada, the US and the UK.

In addition to writing, her interests include genealogy, photography and travel, especially Scotland. On one of her trips to the Auld Country, she had the honor of meeting The Princess Royal, Princess Anne.

Author links:

Blog: Celtic Connexions
Facebook Author Page:
Twitter Account: @RobertsoKing

Sliding into Home
A New League Series (Book 1)
Contemporary Erotic Romance

Anne Lange

Totally Bound Publishing
Word Count:  37,827  words
Heat Level:  Hot
Release Date: October 17, 2014

Can an injured ex ball player convince the woman he wakes up married to in Las Vegas to take a second chance on him?


What the hell am I thinking?

She wasn’t a one-night or even a two-night stand kind of girl. She didn’t do fantasy sex. Hell, she didn’t really do sex, period. It was okay. It wasn’t great. Isn’t that why Roger had fallen into the arms of another warm body? Well, that and the fact that her aspirations didn’t match up with his.

She needed to get out of there. She’d pay her friends back for the room—somehow. Devyn took a step toward the door that appeared to be a mile away.

The water stopped, freezing her mid-stride. Panic swelled. She spun in all directions. Oh, God. Typically, she considered herself a strong woman, but at the moment, she felt so out of her element, and a strong sense of foreboding rolled over her. She needed a place to hide. Dive behind the sofa or behind the heavy curtains?

A door opened and steam rolled into the hallway. The slap of wet feet against ceramic tile pulled her gaze back to the hallway but didn’t encourage her feet to move. Then the soft thud of footfalls on carpet and a deep hum preceded the man about to make his entrance.

Devyn began backing up, hands out at her sides to avoid tripping over furniture. The closer the humming got, the quicker she stepped, until she smacked into the patio door, and sucked in a breath, just as he entered the main room.

She couldn’t stop the immediate flood of arousal that shot through her when she caught sight of the gorgeous hulking male specimen strolling into the room, head down, large hands adjusting a fluffy white towel slung low on his hips, his damp hair curling around the edges of his ears.

She licked her lips. Instinct. Gut feeling. Whatever it was—she knew.  She couldn’t look. Yet she couldn’t close her eyes. She noticed every little detail starting at his sexy feet. The dark hair covering his legs. Could knees be sexy? Every hard line, every muscle of his tight abdomen, as her gaze swept up, up and up, until she reached his face.

That face. She must have moaned, must have made some small noise announcing her presence. His head jerked up and his eyes rounded in surprise, his skin flushed from the shower, or from finding her in his room?

Oh God, this has to be dream. Or maybe it was her fantasy after all.



About the Author:

Shoes are her addiction, but books are her passion.  Anne Lange grew up with a love for reading. If you take a close look, she’s got either a book, her Kindle or her Kobo—maybe all three—tucked into her bag or a pocket when she leaves the house. You know, just in case there’s time to sneak in a chapter or ten.  Anne reads many genres of romance, but prefers to write sexy stories, often with a dash of humor, and usually with a side of those sinful pleasures your mom never told you about. 

Oh, and always a happily ever after. 

While embarking on this wild journey of becoming a romance author, Anne juggles a full time job and a family. Not always successfully. Who needs a clean house every day?  And what’s wrong with cereal for dinner? She lives in Ontario, Canada with her wonderfully supportive husband, three awesome kids who are growing up way too fast, and Rocky the bearded dragon.

Welcome, Booklovers!

Vicki Batman, an author who combines romantic comedy and mystery, is our guest today with her book, Temporarily Employed.

May I pour you a cup of coffee, Vicki?

Honestly, I don't drink coffee. I wasn't raised with it either. I drink a lot of milk and diet Dr. Pepper!

Ally: No problem. I'll grab something from the fridge while you introduce yourself to readers.

Author bio:

Like some of her characters, award-winning author, Vicki Batman has worked a wide variety of jobs including lifeguard, ride attendant at an amusement park; a hardware store, department store, book store, antique store clerk; administrative assistant in an international real estate firm; and a general “do anything gal” at a financial services firm--the list is endless, giving her plenty of crazy material for her writing.

Writing for several years, she has completed three manuscripts, written essays, and sold many short stories. She is a member of RWA and several writing groups and chapters. In 2004, she joined DARA and has served in many capacities, including 2009 President. DARA awarded her the Robin Teer Memorial Service Award in 2010. Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking "What if??"

You also asked for something unusual that wasn't in my bio:  
Once Upon a Time, I was Ms. Oak Lawn Moped.

Find Vicki at:

Author Central:

Ally:  Let's talk about the genre you write, and how you got started in that particular field.

I write romantic comedy and romantic comedy mystery. I grew up reading mysteries, devoured them. At age 14, I discovered romance and read those pretty quickly too. I didn't even know I said funny things until a friend told me. I'd always admired the banter in old movies like The Thin Man. A combination of romance, mystery, and funny equals me and my writing.

Ally:  Do you outline? If not, how do you keep track of things?

I don't outline. I go by Opening hook, Black Moment, and Ending. Then toss lots of good things in. With a book, however, I do keep some character information, setting, and a timeline.

Ally:  Do you ever write to music?

I write to classical guitar. There are no words to mess with my head! Give me lyrics and I start singing. The only exception is at Christmas time and I rock away then.

Ally:  When and why did you go from writing just for fun to thinking you might try publication?

After I showed an early draft to my friend and she said to keep going, I did. I couldn't stop. Yet, I wanted to get better at my craft. So I found RWA and my local chapter. It seemed natural to want to publish my book and eventually my short stories. All the people in my chapter who did so were rather inspiring.

Ally:  What's your current work in progress?

VICKI:  Temporarily Insane

Ally:  Quick Answer Questions
  • Favorite movie: The Thin Man
  • Last place you went shopping:  gas station.
  • What author (living or dead) would you like to have lunch with?  Dick Francis
  • An item on your bucket list:  To hike to Machu Pichu
  • Would you rather have a new car or a piece of jewelry of equal value?  New car, specifically a new Jeep.
Ally: Thanks for visiting with us. Let's take a look at that all important book...

Temporarily Employed by Vicki Bateman
Paperback release date: October 3, 2014
Ebook release date: October 17, 2014

Book Blurb:

Hattie Cook's dream job is down the toilet and her new SUV violated. Desperate for cash to cover the basic necessities of rent and food, she takes a temporary job at Buy Rite Insurance Company where she uncovers an embezzling scam tied to the death of a former employee--the very one she replaced. The last thing she wants is to clash with By-the-Book Detective Wellborn, no matter how much he makes her heart pound.
Detective Allan Charles Wellborn has secretly adored Hattie all his life. When the police determine there's more to the death of a former Buy Rite employee, he steps in to lead the investigation. Overly dedicated, always perfect, he puts his job first, even if doing so ultimately hurts the one he loves.
Can the killer be found before Hattie's time is up?



Pretty much covered the whole freakin’ day. 

A blinding red-white, red-white strobe, reflected in my brand new Wrangler’s rearview mirror, seized my attention. The police. I tossed my hands skyward, ready to surrender. I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Like I'd commented this a.m. to my roommate, Jenny, “Today, anything’s possible.”

My Bad Day checklist included:

- Crappy job interview, one which might have provided desperately needed income.

- Wore gut-busting panty hose on a hot day which had now worked past my waist and strangled my diaphragm.

- A barely blowing air conditioner indicated something had malfunctioned in my new, fun car.

I stole another glance in the mirror, and with great reluctance, flipped the right turn indicator. My vehicle coasted to a stop on the shoulder of Boston Avenue in my hometown of Sommerville, a nice suburb located between two large cities. Four lanes of cars and trucks zipped by as I sat there where every single one of my family, friends, friends’ friends, and their friends—including Rat Fink Suzanne—would see a police vehicle positioned right behind mine. Gleefully, drivers would chant the “Ha-ha, got you, not me” ditty.

How embarrassing.

After killing the engine, I flopped back in the seat. Shooting the morons the finger was an idea. Nah. I'm too exhausted to care.

A litany of:  "No, not hiring." "Just filled the position." "You're over qualified." "You're under qualified…" tornadoed through my head. Coupled with the intense job search through various outlets like the internet and completing numerous online employment applications, no wonder my body had been depleted of all life force.

Not even a breeze blew to take the edge off the unbearable summertime heat. Tangled wild trees and dry scrubby bushes banked the roadside. The grass had taken on a scorched look. Rolling down the driver’s window, I surveyed my surroundings. Nothing great. Nothing new. 

I stole a glance in the side mirror at the policeman who strode purposefully along the shoulder. The gravel crunched under his boots. He looked huge, probably because his uniform, which appeared to be bulked with a bullet-proof vest, made him resemble a buffed-up superhero in size. Exceedingly intimidating.

Sigh. When things went wrong, they were really wrong.

Book Buy Links :

(ebook and paperback)
Wild Rose Press:  Ebook      Paperback

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In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn. The Saxons must fight for everything they have in the hopes of winning their country back from the Normans who are determined to break their resistance. Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot.

When the new King decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. The handsome soldier with the kind brown eyes and gentle touch is a threat to her determination to defy the interlopers. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances? John of Normandy resists marriage and wants only to prove himself worthy of William's trust but when rewarded by King William with the gift of an earldom and a Saxon bride, he balks at marriage, driven by the guilt of knowing her father died by his sword. However, John's reluctance is soon replaced by a deep desire to please this woman and win her over as well as her people.  As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England?

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A Norman. I have been given to a Norman to wife.

Rowena Godwinson, daughter of the late Earl of Essex and the last living member of that powerful Saxon family, stood before her reflection in the polished brass. The wedding gown passed down through three generations of Godwin women before her, draped softly across the shoulders, skimming down her waist and falling over the tips of her deerskin slippers. She blinked back with vacant eyes.

Fear tripped up her spine and her stomach clenched. She had lived among the victors for nigh on five years now. Their disdain for her people was quite obvious. Now the man who had usurped her own uncle as rightful king at the Battle of Hastings had ordered her to marry. With both parents dead, she was his ward.

Rowena clenched her teeth and turned to the window. She glimpsed the slate roof of the chapel beyond the trees where the nuptials would take place this very day. Her family's chapel. Countless celebrations with uncles, close friends, and more cousins than she could name, had taken place there. Those were happy years.

"My lady?"

Rowena looked at the drawn face of her handmaiden, Joan. The blonde sheen of her hair, long gone with the stress of the circumstances and occupation they were all forced to live under.


Joan gulped. "Do you think he will be kind to you? Tonight, I mean?"

Rowena's breath caught in her throat. The marriage bed. How would her husband treat her? With kindness? As her husband, he gained much by this union. A lot of responsibility, yes, but also power. Some men loved power.

She tipped her chin up.

"I believe he will be kind as I will give him no reason not to be."

Joan's eyes rounded. Rowena smiled tightly.

"Fear not, Joan. I will be amicable."

"My lady, would that I could impart upon you my own knowledge, but I have none. Your mother's death before she prepared you leaves you in a bad way."

"Perhaps he will be a gentle man. John." His name was all she knew.

"Yes, my lady. He is one of William's most trusted knights."

"A warrior." Rowena's tone was flat and for an instant she saw again her father. Cold and dead. Blood all around. She forced the memory aside. "Then he will be a good protector."

"Yes, but of whom?"

About the Author:

Always an avid romance reader herself, Ashley York enjoys bringing history to life through vibrant and meaningful characters, writing historical romance novels full of passion and intrigue set in the 11th and 12th century British Isles. Her newest release, The Saxon Bride, is the first in the Norman Conquest series.

When she is not writing, talking about writing, or thinking about writing, Ashley relaxes with visits to the local pubs listening to live Celtic tunes. She lives in southern New England with her husband and 3 very spoiled animals.

Contact Links:

Twitter:    @ashley1066york


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She came through the elven portal looking for excitement in New Orleans, but she found more than she bargained for...conspiracy, murder and magic.