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December 21, 2017

Do I write 24/7? No way. #crafting #writinglife #hobbies


Would it surprise you to know, I don't write all day, every day. I'm a 9:30 to 4:30 writer. I have tons of stuff to do around my house and have to squeeze it in-today is fix the washer day; tomorrow is a new plumber coming to fix the dripping pipes under my master sink; somewhere in there is the a/c man to figure out why there is weird programming on my Nest thermostat.
I have other things to do too, like reading!! And I'm embroidering on a needlepoint pillow and a 12 days of Christmas lap blanket. I adore watching a good movie and stitching. I like stitching so much, I'd stitch in church if I could.
So I thought I'd share what I completed last year:

From this seventies set, I have a huge wreath to do.
I embroidered tea towels for four girlfriends:
And stitched my first needlepoint Christmas ornaments:

However, there is the writing thing. LOL. I'm always busy with it. Find out more holiday and romantic comedy fun at: Amazon Central
May your days be Merry and Bright!

December 12, 2017

DASHING ALL THE WAY: A Christmas Anthology

#excerpt #giveaway

Good morning all! I hope you are all well into the swing of the holiday season (Hanukkah begins today!) and full of good cheer. To do my part for comfort and joy, I’ve got a short excerpt from my Christmas novella, “Up On the Rooftops, in DASHING ALL THE WAY: A Christmas Anthology with authors Celeste Bradley, Eva Devon, Heather Snow and myself!

Now, my novella, “Up On the Rooftops” is set in London, 1811, features a very Scottish heroine the likes of which I’ve never before written—a widow!

While our Caledonia McAlden Bowmont not exactly the “merry widow” of cliché, she is a woman who is grown up enough to know her own mind, and to know what she wants and likes. And what she wants and likes is our hero Tobias McTavish—an accomplished former thief!

Here they are, spark to each other’s tinder:

He kissed her the way a man kisses a woman he wants beyond distraction—with heat and perhaps a little anger. But he was angry—angry that she tempted him so. Angry that he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her just the same. Angry that she kissed him like he’d never been kissed before—as if she knew she was the most precious jewel he would ever hold in his hands. 
But they were in too public a place. Anyone might come by—her mother, her step-brother Arthur, her step-father the viscount. “Come,” he whispered against her lips, and she came willingly, grasping the hand her offered her to lead her down a corridor to the first door that gave out into the courtyard, where the winter wind lashed against her bare arms.
Toby immediately turned back, determined to find someplace indoors.
“No.” Despite the cold, she was just as determined. “I think I know a spot.”
She led him at a run to the carriage house, which was well-lit on the alley side, with braziers put out to warm the gathered coachmen as they waited for their charges within the house.
But Caledonia Bowmont was as clever as she was beautiful, steering them toward the back of the carriage house, where the Meecham town coach was put up tight and snug. And best of all, dark and inviting.
She clambered in and immediately pulled out a thick, fur-lined rug. “This will keep us warm.”
“No,” he contradicted even as he wrapped the dark sable around her shoulders. “I’ll keep you warm.”
He drew her close to kiss her, so close she was almost in his lap. And then she was in his lap, with her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, kissing him as if it were the rightest and best thing in the world. As if they had always meant to meet in a dark, velvet-lined carriage. As if he had always dreamed of kissing her wrapped in fur and delight.
She smelled of sweet orange blossom—sunshine in the dark of winter—and she tasted of wicked desire and sparkling champagne. Of brightness and light. Of happiness. Of possibility.
That was her allure—that was her danger.
Because she made him think of impossible things. 
She made him hope.

What are you hoping for this holiday season? Me, I just want my family to be all together, and for my sprigs to be home safe and sound from college. :) 

Let me know your hopes in the comments below to be eligible to #win an e-copy of “Up On the Rooftops,” along with the three other novellas in DASHING ALL THE WAY!

December 5, 2017

Michelle Miles: New Release!

I’m going to use this space for my shameless self-promotion.

On Friday, December 1, the second book in my Age of Wizards series released. ON THE HUNT FOR THE WIZARD KING is out for public consumption. I’m so insanely excited about this book. It took me nearly a year to write because these books are long and complex. But I’m happy with the way it turned out and I think readers will enjoy Sunnie and Caleb’s story.

I sort of kicked myself for ending IN THE TOWER OF THE WIZARD KING on a cliffhanger. I’m sure a lot of readers hated that but I…couldn’t…help…myself.

The second book has a real ending. I promise. Most storylines are wrapped up nicely except for one or two lingering ones that will make you wonder what happened to these characters. I’ve been toying with an idea for a third book.

I’ve built this large world where there are wizards and faeries and even a few dragons. I think I’ve figured out a way to cross-over my Realm of Honor series with the Age of Wizards series with a cool new twist.

I have so many stories swirling around in my brain, it sometimes makes it hard for me to focus on what to do next. I want to do EVERYTHING next and that’s pretty much impossible. HA.

Anyway, here’s a little peek at the book. Buy links are at the bottom.

As they made their way down, she saw the shimmering thing in the water. She hadn’t noticed it earlier that day. Had it been there before and she missed it? She couldn’t quite make it out but she knew it was something that didn’t belong there.

“What is that?” She pointed to it.

Caleb beat her to the edge of the creek. She paused next to him and peered down at the long silver staff with the glowing orb nestled in what looked like a silver dragon’s claw. The water sparkled around it, giving it an ethereal glow.

“Stay away from it.” There was something urgent and commending in his voice.

Touch it. Take it. Pick up the staff, Sunnie.

The words whispered in her head, the voice a dark and forbidding presence urging her forward. As though something reached down into her inner psyche and compelled her to do as it commanded. She dropped to her knees at the edge of the creek.

“What are you doing, Sunnie?”

Though she knew Caleb was speaking, she ignored him because the pull from the staff overpowered her senses.

Embrace the magic. Take the staff.

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Was she hearing things? Or was the voice really there?

Become who you are meant to be, Sunnie.

That time she was certain she heard the words in her head. She glanced up at Caleb but he merely stood there, almost like he was frozen in time. Sunnie glanced back at the silver staff in the water and noticed something very strange about the ripples. It seemed almost as though they moved in slow motion.

She heard a commotion that caught her attention and she saw the men on the other side of the creek. Two of them. One of them had the staff. Somehow she knew this was not the present. She was seeing something that happened in the past. It was only a brief image before it faded. The next image that came into view was of one of them falling backward into the creek, releasing the staff into the water.

“I must take it.”

She stretched out her hand but it was out of reach. Her knees dug into the soft ground as she reached toward it, her muscles straining. Her fingertips brushed the cool water.

“Don’t touch it.” Caleb’s hand landed on her shoulder and pulled her away from the water.

“I have to pick it up.” Dark need pounded through her with such a violent fury, she shoved off his hand and reached for it again.

“Sunnie, no.”

He practically tackled her like a defensive lineman pummeling the quarterback. He shoved her away from the edge of the creek, pushing her to the ground. His hands encircled her wrists like a vice as he held them in place over her head. His long lean form pressed against her, covering her, as he looked down at her.

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