Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Kindle Countdown .99 cent sale!!

Hurry! Grab the Man of Her Dreams for under a buck!! 

Excerpt from Man of Her Dreams. 

Stepping into the store was like passing a threshold to another era. The wood screen door slapped softly behind her and the smell of licorice drifted from a glass bin beneath the counter. Dark walnut shelves made up the aisles and were filled with incense, candles, soaps and handmade figurines. Each corner she turned yielded a wicker basket brimming with peanut brittle, pistachios, and cashews. 

Her gaze flew from one wall to another covered with velvet paintings of unicorns, Jesus, and Elvis. Multi-colored whirligigs dangled from the ceiling, spinning wildly despite the fact there was no breeze. The floor squeaked whenever she stepped on a loose board. 
“Awful late to be out driving.” 
The voice came from behind, low and smooth and Leslie eased around to get a glimpse of the owner. Who-la-la… She’d swallowed a gush of air. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t begin to describe the guy standing a few feet away. Her breathing returned, soft, but shaky, and with a tad more control than the gulping fish-mouth a minute ago.
His dark, brooding eyes surveyed her, a slight cleft chin tilted upward a notch. When he smiled, a dimple appeared on the right side of his cheek. It required enormous effort to drag her gaze from the lean, muscular body to look at her watch. 

“Depends on what you call late,” she said, the words sounding suggestive even to her ears as she glanced at her watch. It was only 10:30 p.m. He carried an armload of canned vegetables to a display stand. 
“We usually roll up the sidewalks after supper. And by ten, most hard working folks are in bed.”
             Since she was ogling him, she may as well enjoy the whole package. Broad shoulders, tanned forearms, and strong hands so perfect she nearly stumbled. “Are you Jay?” she murmured.
“I am.”
“Hi. My name’s Leslie. The guy out there said you might have takeout or something?” 

“That right?” He chuckled and she wondered what she’d said that was so funny. Her heart thundered when he stepped around the tower of corn and peas and continued placing one can carefully on top of another.  “If Harvey sold take out it’d probably be cornbread and Northern Beans.”

The image of plump white beans swimming in broth and golden cornbread smothered with butter made her mouth water.  “That sounds good.”
“You’re serious?”
“Just hungry.”
           “I’d be glad to make you a sandwich.”

The sensation of homemade bean soup warming her empty belly quickly zapped and her heart sank. “No white beans or warm bread?”
He shook his head. “Hate to disappoint you.”
A sandwich would have to do. “Turkey?”
“I’ll pass,” she laughed. “Thanks just the same.” She wandered slowly around the store increasingly aware of his gaze upon her. Not the kind of surveillance to see if she was shop lifting gaze. But the kind from a guy who’s interested in a woman kind of look. Her insides fluttered. The throbbing in her head returned and she reached for a bottle of aspirin. This was so weird. One minute she was planning a wedding and the next, a single woman on a mission, determined to forget the last few hours and start fresh. But first, she needed to get through tonight. Uncle Bob had been divorced five times and claimed the only warmth he needed came from a small bottle of Old Crow he kept stuffed in his hip pocket.  
Leslie grabbed a couple bags of chips, some beef jerky and orange juice then carried the armload to the counter. “I didn’t see any wine. Where—”
“Sorry. You’ll have to wait until Reams opens in the morning.” When he nodded toward the window, threads of black hair spilled onto his forehead. “Down the road and on the right. Has everything you’ll need from bologna and cheese to soap and tissue.”

“Tomorrow?” she said, becoming more frustrated by the minute. All she wanted to do was find the cabin, put on her bathrobe and have a glass of wine. Was that too much to ask?
“At nine.” 
A small carton of novelty bottles sat near the cash register. A variety pack of vodka, whiskey and rum. 
“This’ll do in a pinch,” she said and scooped up a handful. 
A dream catcher suspended from the ceiling twirled gently. Soft turquoise, pink, and gray downy feathers woven around a circle and laced with white leather. The effect was mesmerizing and signified a belief in possibilities, the promise of hope. “Is that for sale?”
“Looking for a little magic?”
Even though he spoke softly, she saw the judgmental attitude behind the casual remark. Seems Mr. Handsome was just like every other man she’d run across, hung up on appearances. Go figure. Would anyone care or remember that tonight Leslie had been knocked flat on her face by a no-good, two-timing cheat? Or that her prince charming turned out to be a toad? If magic could be found in this tiny bottle, she was all for it.

Pasting on her best smile she said, “Isn’t everybody?”


I just love sales and I'm super excited to announce my less than a buck countdown is underway

If you've ever needed a dose of magic, the kind best friends deliver, then you're definitely going to want one! Thanks much! Oh, and don't forget to add your own two cents by leaving a review!

Check out a what others have been saying about Man of Her Dreams....

Format:Kindle Edition
The small, rural town of Sleepy Falls is a perfect place to get away from your problems.

Fun and sexy July 21, 2014
Format:Kindle Edition
Teresa Blue's contemporary romance is a fun and sexy romp bringing together a hero and heroine from very different walks of life.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Dusk before dawn...

I was skimming my files and happened across the following passage, a new ending in my novella Night Bird. Written years ago, this is still a favorite story for me.
Although it deals with death and the unknown, it also leans toward the possibilities of something more. That death is not the end, but the beginning..   
*   *   * 

       Heavy clouds shadowed the courtyard like a widow’s cloak, the wind coming inland like a sigh. Rattling chains from a pair of shackles broke the eerie silence as a young man of nineteen was led across the plank floor. Somber steps tread cautiously as if each was his last…and indeed it was.
       The lad tottered precariously upon the rickety scaffold, his thin body shaking from the icy chill that seemed ever-present in the prison. He turned toward the pocked face henchman as a thick noose was placed around his neck. Mind weary and weak from starvation, the lad trembled with a fear of what was to come.
       “Billy Ray, you were found guilty of helping yourself to His Majesty’s stables, thus sentenced to hang for your crimes,” the hangman began in a dreary tone. “Have ye’ any last confessions?” he said, cocking an unruly brow. The jailer’s wide mouth twisted with a mocking smile. “Or any last requests, boy?” His laughter filled the platform and echoed throughout the yard.
        The lad’s shoulders sagged beneath the cumbersome weight of the rope. A gusty wind picked up, howling mournfully, and causing his tattered sleeves and torn britches to whip tight around him outlining the frailness of his body. Billy struggled to remain on his feet. An ugly bruise marred his cheek as the wind tugged at his hair. Even at a distance the scars circling his wrists where the steel manacles had been were visible.

        “Well?” the jailer prodded. “Have ye’ nothin’ to say fer’ yerself?”

Night Bird can be read free on Kindle Unlimited or purchased for .99 cents. 

Check it out. 

Blurb: Travis Howland washes up on the shores of Lost Isle and into the arms of an angel. 
Known as the Night Bird, Emma Samson dedicates her afterlife to a solitary existence of Lost Isle, easing the passage of the dying. When she finds Travis near death and desperate, she gives him a unique gift- a few more days to settle his affairs before his death. 
Sorely lacking in faith, Travis lives life with no thought for the future. When his lovely rescuer claims he has died, he's determined to tie up loose ends. He must warn his father that their ship was plundered by a greedy business partner. Only a leap of faith can save him. 
Together, Emma and Travis use his last hours to avenge the traitorous deeds that torment him, and along the way discover that love can be found at any stage of life...even after death,

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Letters From Inside

Letters From Inside, a romantic suspense with a chilling concept- the dangers that lurk around every corner. I'm thrilled to at last have the opportunity to share with you some of what I love best about the novel.  

The idea-

I love to be creeped out. Any unexpected noise sends me jumping off my seat, hands to mouth and eyes sqeezed shut.
                                   The dedication reads -
        This one is for me. Because it started with a simple evening drive.

And the squeal of your tires as you recklessly sped past.

              You nearly ran me off the road and

                          Your blurry gaze left me wondering…

                                  If you were coming back.

If you're curious how it all began: read about here-  

A great thing about being an author is typing along, making stuff up in your mind and -wham! Your character lets loose. Its like- OMG, I can’t believe I wrote that!

Here's a sample of the things that popped up when I least expected.

Jessie, the darling daughter that has foolishly been exchanging letters with a prison pen-pal.

“Guess what I ask him?” Her girlish giggles erupted and she dropped her voice barely above a whisper. “If they really make license plates,” she said and snorted with laughter. “Can you imagine? I get my permit next year. I could probably get a discount on my tags.”

The worst part...she signed her mom's name to the letters!! Yikes! No doubt Linda has her hands full.

Detective Tom Harrington tries to stop the parole.

 At the parole hearing Tom watched Jenkins practically bouncing in his seat, his eyes and face flushed with excitement, and wondered if any minute the guy would raise his hands and give a testimony.
"I got plans," Jenkins said, "once I'm released. My lady's got everything I ever wanted. A big house, and lots of land for farming. Lots of possibilities. I going to spend my days farming, fishing, and well, you know, it's been a long time. "

A peaceful evening at home is brought to a screeching hault....
The ringing telephone brought Linda back to reality. “Hello,” she answered. There was no response, just dead silence. “Who is this?” she said firmly. The only response she got was heavy breathing.

“Who was it, Mom?” Jessie asked. “Anyone for me?”
Linda’s cheeks flushed as she struggled to keep a lid on her feelings. “I don’t know because whoever it was didn’t want to talk, preferring to slobber into the phone instead.” She glared in Jessie’s direction. “On second thought, maybe it was for you.”

And then there's the sex-pervert Carl Jenkins and his high hopes for them. Branded since he was fifteen in the juvie with a time-dot, Carl's been sneaking into homes and windows for a long time.
As a boy....
When he first arrived tonight, it had been his intention to see her eyes beaming with pleasure at the gift he'd brought her. But now, before he left, he needed to see them shining with gratitude. Gratitude that he'd allowed her to live.

He’s crept in through the bedroom window and waited for the perfect opportunity to get better acquainted.

“I came bearing gifts, and I expect a few trinkets in return.” He leaned down and nuzzled Linda on the neck. “I’m game for whatever it takes. Even if it takes all night long.”
There was nothing gentle as he continued to kiss her, his breathing growing heavy...rapid. Strong arms imprisoned her like bands of steel. He finds their weakness, Tom had said.

Secondary characters are such fun. Meet Flo, a loveable waitress who made the mistake of loving the wrong man.
"Is everything all right?" she asked, lightly touching his shoulder. She kissed his cheek. Her harispray stung his eyes. "You're sweaty. Why don't you take off your hat while I get you a beer? I've got a surprise for you."
By the time he turned around, she'd aready hurried back to the stove, lifted the pan and shook it vigorously, sending the glazed shrimp around the rim without dropping a single one and then set the pan back on the burner. Despite her size, she flitted around the kitchen like a hubbing bird, swift and precise.
He pressed the hat's knit edges around his ears and slowly unrolled the stocking cap into place, pausing to adjust the material across his nose and eyes before finally covering the rest of his face.
"I've got a surprise for you, too."

Ooooh, he is such a bad dude!

I hope you'll check it out and let me know what  you think. And thank you so much for dropping by!

Wednesday, February 8, 2017


Words are powerful and have the ability to hurt, heal, and seal the deal into a promise of a lifetime.

I had never really thought about it when I was younger but I always knew I had the ability to weasel out of a situation by quick thinking and a silver tongue. Sure, it didn’t always work but not because I didn’t try. Seeing my mother standing in the doorway looking at her watch with the dark leather snake hanging at her side was encouragement enough to dig deeper and give it another go.

I later learned this is called lying, or stretching the truth. Fabricating. And soon after discovered ways to enhance my …um, silver tongue by using it to my advantage. 

I write fiction.

That's right. The stories I pen are false. Not real. They happen in my head. I dreamed it all up.

It’s funny how something we struggled with during infancy, drooling and gurgling until finally popping out a recognizable word, suddenly opens up a whole new audience.

Not only are Mom and Pop looking on gleefully, but they’re shoving you front and center into a whole set of on-lookers while you proudly babble off this remarkable talent. Seriously, I remember being the only one in Sunday school singled out to sing Jesus Loves Me. My brother sat in the pew making faces. Geesh...what an experience.

Um...but back to words and their marvelous magical substance they possess.
Upon entering school one of the best thing I remember is my introduction to Jane, Dick and Spot, bold printed simple words that opened up a whole other group of friends. Books. Page after page of words delivered in such a way I’m changed, transformed, no longer the same. Because of words.

The Bee Gees said it best, “It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.”

Thursday, December 8, 2016

"What's the matter? Doesn't he like Christmas?"

Hurry! Grab your free copy! Because giving never goes out of style!

It's Christmas Eve and street urchin Victoria and her little dog spend hours wandering the chilly streets selling ribbons and peering through the store glass windows at the grand gifts designed to fill boys and girls Christmas wishes everywhere. 
But Victoria has a wish of her own. A yearning for something she wants more than anything else in the world. And perhaps this year Father Christmas will find her and make all her dreams come true. 
When a withered old storekeeper and his gentle wife find themselves in her company, they are at a loss. The couple has long forgotten the joys of Christmas spent with a child and the magic sure to follow when they open their home and their hearts to... The Season For Miracles.

                                                         Merry Christmas ya'll! 

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Goodbye is never easy...

Remember what it feels like when the last day of school or summer camp is over and it's time to say goodbye to the people with whom you've shared so many hours of your life? There's a heaviness in your chest, a gloom that just won't lift no matter what you try. And despite the promises to stay in touch, you know things will never be the same from this day forward. Life will go on, and sadly, those faces who have meant so much, will eventually, disappear from your life forever.

That's kinda of how I'm feeling. After spending an exciting, and very emotional summer with the Bravo Company, a platoon of soldiers during the Vietnam war, I must accept the fact the series has ended...and without a happy-ever-after. Of course, I knew it couldn't end any other way, and yet as I watched all three seasons as Tour of Duty exposed the turbulent years 1967 through 1969, I prayed the men would return home safe and sound to smiling faces and warm embraces.

Sadly, that didn't happen.
Many of the young men who found themselves stationed there, eager to serve their country, were sent home in a body bag to a country who gave no consideration of what their lives had meant to their families or of the ultimate sacrifice they gave. The ones who did survive, returned wounded, scarred and disillusioned to a homeland that had turned its back on them. This award winning series opened my eyes to many issues of the Vietnam era I'd only heard of. There were examples of soldiers risking their lives to take a hill- many dying in the attempt- only  to be ordered to leave the area and let Charlie reclaim it. I also discovered that over the course of the war 18 million gallons of chemical war far we know as Agent Orange was sprayed over the jungles, the fields, and homes, and our men included. Because of this show, I understand now why this war was not won. It couldn't be. It was not our fight.

These episodes were heartbreaking. And yet, I'm glad to have watched the entire series. And to all the real men and women who served in Vietnam, a heartfelt thank you.