Monthly Archives: January 2013

Monette Michaels: Prime Chronicles Trilogy

I have said it before, the only thing better than a great book, is a great sequal. I love, love, love revisiting fantastic characters and Monette’s characters are defintely fantastic!

This is book two in the Prime Chronicles Trilogy, Prime Selection. Book one was Prime Obsession.



Commander Nadia Petrovich, Science Officer of the Alliance Starship Galanti, has a problem—which has nothing to do with science. Her problem is Commander Huw Caradoc, the Galanti’s Chief Engineer. She and the stubborn Prime male have a growing connection he refuses to acknowledge—a bond that could drive him mad.

They are connected psychically and the bond grows stronger every day. If Nadia didn’t know it was impossible, she would suspect they were mating in the Prime tradition—a biological imperative that locates and marks a Prime’s optimum mate. But she isn’t Prime, as Huw tells her and anybody who’ll listen.

Nadia’s emotional anguish couldn’t have come at a worse time. The Prime and Galactic Alliance merger is finally under way, and the all-male Prime crews are learning how to work with female Alliance crew members. The Antareans threaten the outer arms of the Milky Way, and Prime rebels wreak havoc on the Prime home planet and elsewhere.

Despite the conflict surrounding them, Nadia and Huw will not be able to avoid their fate or their growing love. Prime selection will make the decision for them whether the timing is right or not.

Don’t miss out on this one! Buy it here!!

And be sure to stop by Monette’s web site!


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Excerpt: Seducing Kate-Rated R

CONTENT WARNING: This is for big kids so if you are under eighteen turn away..turn away now!


I desperately tried to come up with something new and interesting to share today but all my thoughts are consumed by this WIP that is very nearly finished (how long have I been saying that??).

Instead of trying to push those thoughts aside and coming up with something juicy to tell you, I’m just going to share a sniplet from this book that has been dancing naked around my head for far too long.

Here it is, an uneditied, unfinished, unpublished bit from Seducing Kate:

I’d just rounded the corner of the house and reached the back door when I heard Kate’s voice filter out to me. The teasing in her tone caused me to stop.

“The boys are right outside,” she said.

“They’re out by the fire pit,” John said. “They’ll never know. Come on, just let me taste you.”

Stepping to the door, I peered in through the screen and watched Kate wiping the countertop with a rag while John stood behind her, his face buried in her neck. I swallowed as I watched his hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt. He fondled her breasts for a moment before Kate turned so she could look up at him. I inhaled at the look on her face. She was grinning a wickedly seductive grin that let me and I’m sure John, know her resistance was just a game.

He grabbed her hair and kissed her hard and I clenched my jaw, feeling jealousy swim through me. Damn it, I wanted that to be me.

“One of them could walk in,” she said after pulling away from him. She cast a glance over his shoulder toward the door and I held my breath. For a moment I was certain that she’d seen me, but she looked away.

“That’s what makes it so good,” he teased as his hand went between her legs. I knew when he slid his fingers in her by the way her head fell back and she moaned.

I watched his arm move several times as he nipped at her neck. “I don’t care what you say,” he told her, barely loud enough for me to hear, “I know what you like. My sweet little slut.”

I tensed at the word but Kate mewed out a sultry laugh that made my dick grow even harder. “You’re terrible,” she said teasingly as he continued fingering her in the kitchen.

John pulled his hand from her, pushed her shorts down and then lifted her onto the counter in a move so swift I was amazed I caught it all.

She grinned and bit her lip as John dropped to his knees in front of her. Her legs draped over his shoulders and her hands gripped his hair as he pressed his face between her legs.

Swallowing hard, I glanced around the corner at the yard I’d come through to make sure none of the guys were headed my way. Confident I was alone, I reached down and released my cock and stroked it in time with Kate’s moans. Jesus, what I wouldn’t have given to have been the one between her legs.


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Sara Daniel: Wyatt’s Guilt character interview

You guys know that I love a good character interview! And a sexy cover…



Author Sara Daniel has convinced (coerced?!) Wyatt Truman, leading man from the Finally Ever After romance Wyatt’s Guilt, to consent to an interview.


Wyatt, thank you for coming to chat with us today. Why do you think Sara Daniel choose you to represent her?

You’re welcome. But I’d think the answer would be obvious from the title Wyatt’s Guilt. Clearly, she thinks I have some issues that need to be resolved.


You don’t agree?

Oh, I admit I have regrets about the past. But I’m only going to discuss them with the person I have a reason to feel guilty toward. Unless your name is Nicole DeMonde, this is none of your concern.


All right, then. Moving right along…What do you feel comfortable telling our readers about yourself.

My name is Wyatt Truman. I’m the police chief of Dentonville, Illinois, population 1,463. I was born and raised in this town—was even captain of my high school baseball team. We would have made it to the state championships too if I had been expelled at the end of my senior year, but never mind that. The important thing is I plan to spend the rest of my life in Dentonville, carrying out justice and keeping my family, friends and neighbors safe.


Where have we seen you before?

I’m Julianne’s brother, so you might have seen me in Zane’s Art. But honestly, I felt like I was portrayed like a jerk in that book, and that’s not true at all. Of course, I have to protect my sister from any guy who thinks he can take advantage of her, especially one like Zane who already broke her heart.


If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’re wound pretty tight. What do you do to relax?

If I’m off-duty, I’ll put my feet up and have a beer in front of the TV. Hopefully, a Sox game will be on that I can tune into. An evening my squad car, patrolling town while everything is quiet and everyone else is asleep, is probably when I’m most at peace and relaxed.


Well, you do sound pretty mellow now. What really pushes your buttons?

Injustice. If someone does something wrong, they’ve got to atone for it and do what they can to make it right. The last thing I want to do is bring up the past with Nicole, but I’m going to do it and I have to apologize. I fully expect her to rip me to shreds for it. But that’s good because then justice will be served.


Thank you for joining us, Wyatt. Good luck with those guilt issues. I guess we’ll have to read the book to find out how they get resolved.


Wyatt’s Guilt

Nicole trusted Wyatt with her heart once. She won’t make the same mistake twice.


Nicole DeMonde’s car breaks down the moment she returns to her hometown for her brother’s wedding. The cop who stops to help her is none other than local hottie Wyatt Truman, who slept with her then dumped her when they were teens. She has no choice but to accept his help. However, she knows better than to trust him with her heart twice.


Wyatt is determined to earn Nicole’s forgiveness and make amends for his callous past. Once he lays eyes on her, he can’t help wanting a lot more than forgiveness, despite his intention never to hurt her again.


Just as Wyatt starts thinking his best intentions are of the forever variety, Nicole decides to work Wyatt out of her system with a one night stand. Can either of them make peace with the past in a single weekend, let alone survive with their hearts intact?


Buy Links:

Musa Publishing
Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks


Connect with Sara Daniel:



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Guest Blogger: The Princes Knighted by Robin Danner

This is a very special Monday, folks, very special indeed. I usually save guest bloggers for Wednesday, but I just couldn’t wait to share The Princes Knighted by the very talented Robin Danner.

Shocking revelations rock a kingdom in Robin Danner’s The Princes Knighted. Curious to know the identity of the rebel leader? Hugh d’Arcy stumbled upon the answer, but he’s not telling!


The highly anticipated third book of The Princes is now available here.  Grab a copy of The Princes Bound and The Princes Determined while you’re there so you don’t miss all the clues to the puzzle.

Excerpt from The Princes Knighted by Robin Danner:

Wilhem led them to a smaller area of the cave which formed into a sort of room by the curving of the walls around it. Wilhem stopped near the entrance and turned toward Hugh. An emotion resembling pity appeared in his eyes. “Wait here, and I will see where he wants me to take you.”

He? It had to be the leader of the rebels. If not for the precious burden in his arms, Hugh would follow Wilhem into the room and finally see the identity of Noventia’s faceless enemy. The two rebels stepped close to him as if they sensed his thoughts. He heard the whisper of voices and then a long silence before the voices came again. He could not make out the words no matter how much he strained to hear.

It was several minutes before Wilhem reappeared. “Hand me the lass. He wants to see you.”

Wilhem sighed as Hugh shook his head in answer. “I will not hurt her.” He stepped closer to speak in a rushed whisper. “She will be safer with me. For the love of God, give her to me.”

Hugh eyed the rebel. He seemed earnest and honest. He looked down at Sara, who still slept. Her face turned into his chest, her warm breath whispering across his skin. Her hair streamed across his forearm where it had come undone from it pins during their travels.

He lifted his gaze and pinned the rebel with a look of deadly intent. “If you harm her…”

Wilhem scooped her into his arms before Hugh could finish his threat. “I will protect her for you.”

The rebel hurried away, and Hugh watched them go. Once they were out of view, he turned back to the opening of the room where the rebel leader waited. A couple of steps, and he would finally know.

One of the rebels behind him prodded him. “You should go in now.”

Hugh longed for a weapon, anything he could use to defeat the enemy once and for all. The minute he saw the leader, he had no doubt he would be killed. It would be too much of a risk for their cause to allow him to live. He could only pray Sara’s position as the prince’s sister by marriage kept her safe once he was gone. But by God, he would not go down without fighting.

He entered the doorway naturally formed by the rock wall and scanned the small area. The reflection of candlelight flickered on the damp wall and illuminated the space where a lone man sat at a makeshift table, furiously scribbling. His back was to Hugh, but something ruffled along the edges of Hugh’s memory. The way the man held himself, the set of his shoulders called to him.

He took a few more steps closer, unable to stop moving until he was at the man’s elbow. The leader turned his head toward him.

All the pieces of the puzzle are revealed……



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Lynn Lorenz: Storyville

Please join me in welcoming the amazing and talented Lynn Lorenz to the blog today!


So….gay noir romance, huh?

Exactly. This month (January 20th) the PAX offerings from Amber Allure will feature 5 novellas all set in the dark underbellies of the world.

Not sure what Noir means?

Think a gay Sam Spade. Maltese Falcon. Sunset Blvd. Chinatown.

Now, think 1916 New   Orleans. World War I is on. Musicians like Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton are perfecting jazz. Ladies are wearing short skirts, cutting their hair short, drinking, and dancing. Gentlemen look for sport of all types.

The most infamous red light district of all is Storyville — a small area just outside the French Quarter known for it’s high and low class bordellos. Some as grand as any mansion on St. Charles Ave and some as low as shanty shacks, but all of them noted in the notorious Blue Book.

Think Yellow pages for whores. That’s right. No gentleman of the time in New Orleans did without his handy Blue Book, listing every address, every whore, her talents and her prices for the Storyville district. Most of the houses had names, so I gave mine names too, The Pleasure Palace, The Brown Pelican, and The Big 50.

Where better to set my Noir? When I signed up for it, I didn’t even have to think…duh! It was a no-brainer. Storyville. So once I’d done a little research, I knew I wanted my two heroes immersed in the district, and I wanted one to be a cop and the other to be a jazz piano player.

Officer Max O’Rouke is big and Irish. He has dreams of moving off the streets and up to detective. He also has dreams of Tommy LeBarre, the piano player at The Pleasure Palace. But loving Tommy could ruin his career and land him in prison doing hard labor. And if Max’s suspicions are right, someone is trying to kill Tommy.

Dark, seedy, dangerous. Storyville.

 Excerpt –

New Orleans, 1916

I’d been a cop walking a beat since I was nineteen. Nothing I ever wanted to do but be a cop. I’m Irish. It was cop, fireman, or bartender, but my dad was a cop, so, there you have it.

I’d been assigned to Storyville since I was twenty-seven, almost three years ago. In all that time, I’d gone with the flow, like the flotsam and jetsam in the muddy waters of the river running past this city headed to the gulf. If my captain said no busts in Storyville, I’d lay off. If he said go break some heads, I’d swing my baton.

Like a good cop. It’s all I’d ever wanted.

Until I stepped through the doors of The Pleasure Palace and caught sight of Tommy LeBarre playing that beat-up upright piano. I’d never wanted anyone so much. And I knew wanting him was so far out of line, so far over the edge of fucked up, that if I ever crossed that line, there’d be no turning back. Not for me.

Not for a good cop.

So I stuffed my want down deep. Kept listening to Tommy play that piano—jazz they called it—through the open windows of the Palace. Kept pushing him outta my head, and outta my cock and my balls, where the want for him was so bad it hurt.

And kept walking my beat.

“I heard there’s talk about shutting Storyville down,” I told James Stoli, my wop patrol partner, as we strolled down Basin   Street.

That’s right—an Italian and an Irishman. We made quite a pair. Both of us were second generation. His parents could barely speak English, and if you count the thick Irish accent, neither did mine. New   Orleans was changing; it was no longer just French and Spanish. Immigrants were moving in, changing neighborhoods, like the Irish Channel down around Magazine   Street, where my parents lived.

His family lived off Esplanade behind the Vieux Carre. Lots of Italians there.

So, you see, James and I had more in common than you might think, us two cops on this beat.

All around us, Storyville came to life, rising out of the dusk. We passed old Joe at the top of his ladder lighting the streetlamp and raised our batons to him. He nodded as he swung the glass door shut.

“Never. Too many of the hoi-poloi have Blue Books.” James tapped his chest pocket where he kept his own copy of that little book describing Storyville’s most talented ladies of the night. Used to call them soiled doves, but here in Storyville, these doves were more like peacocks and their houses no cheap saloons, but well decorated salons where New Orleans’ rich and famous played.

The door to the Brown Pelican opened, and a woman stepped outside. She pulled a dark red flowered dressing gown around her, lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply. “Hi, boys,” she drawled. Her whiskey-roughened voice and southern accent could excite even the most straight-laced men.

James answered, “’Evening, Miss Lavidia.” He doffed his hat to her. It worked on him, not me, but I gave her a polite nod.

“Coming ’round later?”

He gave me a quick look, then said, “Sure. Tell Miss Victoria I’ll be by after my shift.” Not for the first time I wondered if I should say something about James’ fancy for Miss Victoria, a mulatto whore he’d fallen for hard.

We all knew nothing could come of it, but that didn’t stop James from giving it to her every chance he got. For a fee. Miss Victoria might have liked James, but she was still a whore and still charged him, just like all the others.

Another thing James and I had in common. We were both in love with the wrong person.

Miss Lavidia winked, finished her cigarette, and then stubbed it out on the cement steps of the large house. Ever since the Chicago fire, people were more careful.

James puffed up and twirled his baton on its leather strap. I hated when he did that—made him look like pompous ass. Not that he wasn’t, but I had to walk next to him.

Old Joe had carried his ladder on to the next lamp on the street.

Across the street, at The Pleasure Palace, music floated out of the open windows. My mouth went dry and my cock took notice. Tommy had started playing early.

My partner caught my frown. “Don’t you like jazz?” James asked.

“Not really. Why?”

“Nothing.” He walked on, keeping up with my longer strides. “It’s just that whenever we pass the Palace, and the music is playing, you get…so…tense.”

For a second, fear coursed through me. Had James figured it out? Had I let my guard down? Had he seen something in me? Something between me and Tommy?

“Well, it makes me nervous. I like a nice slow waltz,” I lied. In truth, I liked jazz. Especially what came out of one particular piano. However, I didn’t want James in on that. Even if he was my partner, even if I knew about his love for a whore, I didn’t trust him enough to tell him my darkest secret.

I glanced over at the Palace. Tommy would be sitting, hunched over the keyboard, his foot working the pedals of the old black upright, his slim, strong fingers dancing over the ivories, lost in making that music.

Last time I was in there on a routine call, he looked up at me, smiled, and I about lost control. “Hi ya, Max!” He didn’t even stop playing to talk to me. “Bust any heads today?” He always asked me that. Every time. I always said, “Not yet.”

Then I’d get the hell outta there before I said something more.

I fixed my gaze on the street in front of me, determined I’d not go in there tonight. Not without cause. Too many visits and it’d be suspicious. And I didn’t want anyone asking me questions I didn’t have the answers to. Or the wrong answers.

So we kept walking.

As the sun set, both horse drawn wagons and those new pickup trucks jostled for positions in front of the rows of houses lining each side of Basin. Deliverymen and houseboys of all colors carried barrels of beer and crates of hooch into the houses. Negro maids, dressed in black uniforms with white aprons and little white lace caps, stood on the stoops, and ordered them about, pointing and shouting. Old gray-haired Negro men with push brooms and buckets of soapy water cleaned the banquettes in front of the houses of the filth from the previous night and day.

In just a few hours, Basin Street and the rest of Storyville would come to life. Carriages and automobiles carrying New Orleans’ finest gentlemen, dressed in black tuxedos and white gloves, would arrive. They’d descend from their vehicles and enter whichever house they’d chosen to spend the evening in, being entertained by New Orleans’ finest whores.

And James and I, two of New Orleans’ police force, would just keep walking our beat, making sure those fine upstanding citizens were safe and no trouble broke out on the street. Or occasionally we’d be called into the houses to remove some gentleman too deep in his cups and safely escort him home or to his club to sleep it off.

No one got arrested. Not anyone of standing, if you get my drift.

Storyville paid a lot to city hall for protection, and in return, city hall told the force to turn a blind eye. Everyone knew it. It was no secret. Even the newspapers reported on who’d been seen where and with whom. Just like on the society pages of the Picayune.

Frankly, I didn’t give a damn one way or the other. I wasn’t ever going to find myself in one of the houses looking for a good time. I didn’t have the money, first. Second, women were not where I found my pleasure, and third, Storyville wasn’t where I’d go to find it.

There were dark alleys and sloe-eyed, coffee-skinned young men on Rampart Street. Boys who’d let a man do just about anything for the right price. I knew. I’d been.

Being caught on Rampart Street would end my career as a copper and my hopes of making detective one day. I only went when the need drove me and that wasn’t often these days. I didn’t have much, but I still had my dreams.

I stole another look at the Palace over my shoulder. I squashed the foolish thought that tonight we might be called in there and I’d catch a glimpse of Tommy, his blond hair, parted in the middle, falling into his face and covering those thick glasses he wore, playing on that piano and my soul.


Find Lynn’s books about New Orleans at Amber Allure

Hearts of New Orleans series of novellas about gay men in love in a timeless city, through all its ups and downs.

Check out her listing on her website…

Amber Allure PAX blog — check it out for contests and chats with authors!

Or contact Lynn at


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Authors, authors, and more authors

Today I present to you evidence of my ability to get organized. And it is amazing!
I’ve spent the last week reaching out to fellow authors and lining up some great previews of their newer releases and other information. At this point, most of the authors are from the publishers that I’ve worked with so I have personal experience with them, but I’m hoping to reach beyond those three and bring you even more authors in the future.
I’m doing this in hopes of not only introducing these authors to new readers but to introduce you to new writers. There is so much talent out there that never finds its way into the mainstream—not that my blog is even close to mainstream—but by bringing these books to you, you may find something you love that you never would have seen had it not been for the author stopping by to visit.
So, starting Wednesday and for many, many more Wednesdays to come, stop by and read an excerpt, check out a book cover, and leave comments for the author so they knew you were here.
For the rest of January I’ve lined up, Lynn Lorenz to tell us more about life on the Bayou , Robin Danner will make an unusually Monday appearance on the 21st to share her Princes series, Sara Daniels will swing by on the 23rd and we’ll wrap up January with some selling tips from the amazingly talented Monette Michaels.
I hope you’ll join us and say hello!
See you soon,

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Character Interview: Carrie Gable

Character interviews, in case you don’t know, are just that. Characters from books interviewed to get their insight on things. I always think these are a lot of fun to do and to read.

This particular character interview was done by Sloane Taylor. She interviewed Carrie Gable, the main character in my alter ego’s book, Unforgettable You.


Thank you for coming to chat with us today. Why do you think Marci Boudreaux choose you to represent her?

I guess I’m here because everything that’s happened is somehow directly related to me.  My mother-in-law, Doreen, has kept me on my toes for years, but the kicker was finding out that she’d blown through all the savings that her husband had set up for her, leaving us on the verge of having to sell her family home.


I had no choice but to give room and board to all these Hollywood hotshots while they are filming in town.  The last thing I wanted to do was cater to a bunch of snobs, but money talks and they offered enough money that it was screaming.


It hasn’t been all bad.  In fact, some of it has been pretty great.  I never would have met Will if I hadn’t agreed to this and he has definitely been worth the trouble.


Tell us a little about yourself?

Born and raised in Iowa.  I lost my mom when I was young. When I started working at the inn with Doreen, we really connected. She’s the reason I went to culinary school and became a chef. She’s also the reason I married her son Mike. If she hadn’t straightened him out as a teenager, I think I’d have given up on him long before we were engaged.


When Mike died, I leaned on Doreen to get me through. That’s just another reason why her Alzheimer’s has been so devastating. She’s constantly asking where he is and I always tell her the same story.  He’s at the store.  The poor guy’s been running errands for three years.


What do you wish people would know about you?

I didn’t throw myself at William Walker.  It just happened. I know most people don’t think we could possibly have anything in common—me being an inn keeper in Iowa and him being a huge movie star from California—but there’s more to him than that.  There’s more to me, too.


What is your perfect evening?

It would be sitting down and talking to Doreen and having a real conversation.  Not one where I tiptoe around the truth about Mike or try to hide that I’m falling hard for Will.  I’d like to talk to her about him and how he makes me feel.  Unfortunately, that’s never going to happen.


What do you do to relax?

It usually involves wine and a fire on the patio. I didn’t realize how predictable this was until Will came along and started pouring my wine and starting fires while I was putting Doreen to bed.  I’d come downstairs and he’d have everything ready so we could sip our drinks and talk.  I love staring into the blaze and listening to his stories.  It makes everything difficult fade away, at least for a while.



Tell us about Will Walker. What drew you to him?

Wow, that’s really personal.  I guess it was how lost he seemed. It was nice to see that I wasn’t the only one who felt like life was winning.  When he got here, I was at my wits end.  It’s hard trying to be the primary caregiver for someone who doesn’t realize she needs it.


He understood my dedication to Doreen and supported it.  He also trusted me enough to talk to me about what he was going through.  How his life was out of his control and he didn’t like where it was going.

So I guess what drew me to him was his understanding, his patience and his willingness to open up to me.


What really pushes your buttons?

Right now, Juliet Ramirez. Not only does she push my buttons, she stomps on them with every ounce her ninety pound, silicone inflated body can manage.


I’ve never met anyone more full of themselves than that woman. “This is wrong. That is wrong. Old people creep me out.”  On and on and on.  She never stops complaining.


Too bad for her, I’m not very impressed by her so-called glamour. I stopped tripping over myself to make her happy about five minutes after she arrived.  Of course, that doesn’t go over well with the location manager, but he can get over himself as well.


What’s your biggest turn on?

You really go for these personal questions.  My biggest turn on?  Patience. That’s all I can ask for right now.  Someone who is patient and calm and soothing.


What are your biggest turn off?

Any and all things Juliet Ramirez.


What’s your perfect day? Why?

My perfect day is a day when I don’t realize that Doreen has disappeared, when she doesn’t try to burn the house down, when I don’t fall down the stairs, and when Juliet Ramirez spends the entire day on set.  That seems to be a lot to ask lately, but that would be perfect.


Beyond that, I would love to have a day with Will. Just the two of us. One day where we can go out and not have to worry about anything else. I don’t even care what we are doing, as long as we aren’t worrying.


Do you believe in ghosts?

If there were ghosts, I would have had a lot more help with Doreen the last few years. I’d have called on Mike about ten times a day to keep up with whatever mischief his mother was getting into.  Unfortunately, I’m on my own with this one.


What is your biggest fear?

I think right now, I have two big fears.


I know at some point Doreen will become too much for me to handle.  My friends, and I think even Will, already feel that she’s too much, but she’s the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had.  She would never give up on me, I can’t give up on her either.  So as long as I am able, I will keep her in her home and make her life as comfortable as possible.


On the other and, I am terrified of the day that Will returns to California. He swears it won’t happen, but I’m scared he’s going to go back to his life and wonder what the hell he was thinking getting involved with me and I’ll just be a memory.  If I even qualify for that.  I’m scared he’ll forget about me.


Why should the readers be interested in your story?

My story is filled with a lot of emotional ups and downs, anger, bitterness, loss, happiness, love and laughter.  The relationship I share with Doreen is unique. Even when her delusions get the better of her, and she can’t really understand what is happening, the bond between us is so strong it could never be broken.


And who could possibly resist getting to know Will Walker? He’s sweet and considerate. He’s patient not only with me, but with Doreen as well. He is very romantic and is constantly surprising me with his dedication to our relationship. Sure, he’s bound to screw up and make me want to never see him again, but he’s a guy and what guy doesn’t do that from time to time?



Desperate to keep her ailing mother-in-law Doreen in the family home, Carrie Gable agrees to board a few of Hollywood’s elite actors. Despite her resentment of their demands, she can’t stop her attraction to actor Will Walker.


Will, out to save his failing career, agrees to a project that bores him. The more time he spends with his egotistical co-stars, the more drawn he is to their hostess. Long nights talking with Carrie make him realize he wants a simpler life, but his ties to L.A. refuse to let him go.


The temptation to regain stardom pulls Will in one direction while the obligation to family tugs Carrie in another. Against all odds, the couple struggles for a solution to save their new found happiness.


Learn more about Marci Boudreaux on her website Stay connected on facebook and Twitter!/MarciBoudreaux.

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