Some Visual Branding

As with all writers, my name is my brand. I hope my name denotes heartfelt emotion, humor, well-written stories, and, quite often, some heart-pounding action and suspense.

I recently decided my Scottish Bear Shifters, formally known as Highlander's Beloved, will continue into other parts of Scotland, as well. These will be self-published books.

To tie them all together, I needed a visual brand. Enter Farah Evers who took the bits and pieces of info I gave her and created a logo I'll now have put on every bear shifter book. The navy and green Matheson tartan is also within the circle.

I really love it and hope readers will soon come to recognize the bear in the circle as belonging to me.

As for my contemporary and suspenseful romances, well, my name will have to do it there. In time, I hope more people recognize it, too.

In Less Than a Week I'll Turn 69...

....and I still don't know what I wanna be when I grow up.

Pitiful, isn't it?

Maybe I should clarify that by saying, I still don't know what I want to write.  Most romance writers have a sub-genre they stick to. Not this old chick. I tend to flip-flop like an ungirdled ass in a pair of stretch pants. 'Nuff said there. You get the picture.

I'm not poking fun at the woman. If she'd have short, red hair she could easily be me...if I'd have nerve enough to step out of the house like that.

Back to writing. I'm going to try my best to stick to contemporary and bear shifter romances. I think. See, an idea might sneak into my mind. Or a dream might slip into my unconscious some night. Or I might overhear a snippet of conversation that snags my attention.

My mind is like a clump of chewing gum and ideas, especially odd ones, stick. And they won't unstick unless I write about them. The problem is the ideas aren't always contemporary or paranormal in nature. So there goes my plan to be a two-dimensional writer.

At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

How about you? As a writer, do you tend to write in one vein? As a reader, do you follow a writer you enjoy no matter what types of books he or she writes?

The Amazing Mackenzie Crowne Presents-...

To Win Her Smile, Players #5 is set to release on July 18th. Throughout this series, these larger-than-life athletes and their ladies have made readers laugh, cry, and sigh while producing some heady steam as they searched for their individual HEAs.

Like the first four books, To Win Her Smile can be read as a standalone, but Wyatt and Piper’s lighthearted tale is the perfect conclusion to the series. Seriously, when a story begins with a superstitious pro quarterback accidentally breaking the nose of a down-on-her-luck baroness, you know you’re in for an off-beat, wild ride.


To Win Her Smile is available for preorder. Reserve your copy now @ http://www.ekensingtonbooks.com/book.aspx/35098

Sometimes love and luck collide . . .

When sultry British Baroness Piper Darrow falls on desperate times, she needs a diversion—and cash. As a talented photographer, she jumps at the chance to travel to the U.S. for a Manhattan Marauders football event. But she gets more than she bargained for when buff quarterback Wyatt Hunter’s errant pass lands…in her face. And when it results in Wyatt’s comeback of a lifetime, the superstitious athlete is convinced Piper is his good luck charm . . .

With his sights on the Super Bowl, Wyatt will do anything necessary to keep Piper close. The fact that she’s a feast for the eyes is a bonus. And as they get closer, he discovers that beneath her proper English surface is a sweet, sexy seductress. Soon the notorious playboy finds himself genuinely smitten, and surprisingly open to love—until his powerful family uncovers something about Piper that threatens to shatter his trust. Now he’ll have to decide whether to team up with his fears, or his heart.

Once More With Extra Feeling

I thought long and hard about revamping the Red Hand Conspiracy Series. I had such a good time writing it, yet the series didn't sell well. Was it because of the titles I'd chosen? I'm not the best at that. My recent editors always change them, and I'm not always pleased with their choices. But what do I know?

Could it have been the covers? I loved the covers The Wild Rose Press created for the series.

Could I chalk it up to my being relatively unknown? Heck, I'm still a minor blip on the romance writers' scale.

Yet, the fact remains I loved those books. They took me back to Paris, my favorite city to the magical times Calvin and I spent there. I'd gotten the rights back, so I could spruce them up and freshen the technology used. Add and delete as needed.

What fun I had doing it.

I changed the series name from the Red Hand Conspiracy to Paris Intrigue. I self-published book one on April 25th.

Book two releases on June 13th

Book three will come out sometime the end of August

You know I write bear shifter books and contemporary romance. I'd stopped thinking of myself as a

romantic suspense author. Now I have to add that sub-genre to what I write. I'm not really known for suspense. Readers have to wonder if I can effectively write it. I like to think I can...or hope so, anyhow.

What is the series about?

The first two books contain American female travelers in Paris who attract the attention of Red Hand, a terrorist group. They're put under the protective care of French counterterrorism agents as they also try to find and apprehend gang members. The last book is about Niko's sister who is attracted to a German jazz saxophone player who is also a spy searching for the Red Hand member who killed his brother.

These books contain fast-paced action, smoldering passion, humorous situations, and family closeness. I hope readers give them a chance.

There are Days When There's a Direct Disconnect Between My Mind and the Computer Screen.

I'm in the process of updating a book that was originally published as MONA LISA'S ROOM, a romantic suspense set mostly in Paris. It was released roughly five years ago, so any technology mentioned is out-dated. Something I need to correct. Someone asked me about my lack of humor in the book. Would I be adding some?

I hadn't thought of it.

Maybe that's why the book didn't sell. I'd blamed it on the title. I'm renaming it NIKO: LICENSED TO KILL. And if I could think of a good place to insert humor, by golly, I'd do it because I love laughing when I write. Especially if tears of mirth blur my seeing the computer screen.

Over a week ago, when I laid down for my afternoon nap--to rest my eyes, now. Not because I'm old, mind you. This idea came to me. I could see it happening in my mind. Boy, oh boy, was it funny. I laid there and laughed until the bed shook. This was it! The bit of humor the book needed.

I wrote the chapter leading up to it--a blend of the original chapter two and new segments setting up THE scene. I'm telling you, I couldn't wait to start chapter three. It was going to be hilarious. My readers would love it!

Today was the day and I was out of bed two hours earlier than usual, eager to get started. I wrote what I had seen in my mind.

Not one chuckle.

I rewrote it. Changed normal verbs to more powerful ones. Threw in more description to slow down the pace.

Meh.

How could this be? It had been so darn funny in my mind. I couldn't think of it without breaking into hysterics. Reading it on the computer screen barely made me smile. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. You know, reality just couldn't live up to my expectations

Obviously, between my mind and my fingertips, there's been a great disconnect.

Calvin read it and smiled at a few places. Didn't laugh. Smiled. I sent it to my CP. She told me it was funny as hell. Okay, I feel a little better. I'll move on. In a week I'll go back and read over it again. No doubt make some more changes because...you know...a writer is never satisfied.

The Saga of the Remote Control

I'm sure you've gathered by now how I adore my husband. Here's a picture of him reading to a classroom of elementary students. He's been retired from teaching high school English for sixteen years, but misses encouraging students. He is by nature "a salesman of learning." He also knows many children have never been read to by a man, especially a man of color, and he wants them to have that experience. So, he visits elementary schools here in Lynchburg and reads to them and talks about the importance of learning. For some of them, hearing this from a man is something new. I love how he cares about children, young and old alike.

But, just like all men, Calvin has his quirks. Take the remote control, for example. I mean we've got a gazillion around here. There are remote controls for every TV--including the one in the garage, every blue-ray player--including the one in the garage, every stereo--including the one in the garage, every ceiling fan--including...well, hell, take my word for it, he's got a lot.

I almost hate to go shopping with him. The last time we went looking for a new coffee maker, he got a glazed look in his eyes as he picked up box after box. "Do you think any of these come with remote controls?"

What is it with men and those "buttony" gadgets anyhow?

Where his addiction is the worst is in his recliner in front of the TV in the living room. He has the remote for the television, the Direct TV, and the blue-ray all on his lap or on the arm of his chair. Because, you know, he NEEDS them nearby.

Now these remotes have a way of ending up in odd places. Why? Because DH hates to part with all of them when he goes to do something. They're like his security blanket, only smaller and with buttons. I've found one on the tub beside the commode. In the ice maker tub in the freezer. In the mailbox. I'd have loved to witness the mail lady's expression on that one. And beside the cookie jar. Enough said.

So, Calvin decided to secure the remotes to his recliner. He took pieces of yarn and tied one end of each around every remote and the other end around the recliner's handle since he never reclines. Well, before long, these yarn strings resembled tangled fishing wire. He went to the hardware store and bought thin rope.

I never said a word.

He is, after all, the King of Remotes in this house.

He tried tying the ropes to the remote, but couldn't tie it tight enough so he glued it. The glue didn't hold. Back to the hardware store for stronger glue. He brought home six--SIX, mind you!--different kinds.

I never said a word.

None of them held the rope in place. He went to his tool chest in the garage and rummaged until he found a roll of electrical tape. It held for one day.

Not to be bested by a remote and a piece of rope, Calvin took the whole works out to the garage where much cursing and slamming of drawers followed. Suddenly, there was silence. He walked in, chest puffed out. "I think I've found the solution to the problem. Come see."

I followed him out. "First I dipped the rope into the glue and then placed the tape over the gooey mess. I've got it cranked tight in this until it all dries..."

My chin dropped.

The rope, glue, and tape did hold. The remote's buttons, however, were permanently smashed flat.

Men!

To Cuss or Not to Cuss--How Will My Characters Talk?

Sometimes I worry I do my readers a disservice. They never know what they're going to get from me. Depending on my characters, language can run the gamut from one or two "dirty words" to more "F-bombs" dropped than gunfire in a war.

So, why the difference?

Why don't I write all my books in the same language style?

In short, it's my characters.

As I write their stories, some characters tell me they wouldn't use that word so I clean up the language. Yes, I hear voices. Others, like my hero in a book currently with an editor, have no qualms about using the F-word frequently. The hero in the book I'm writing now speaks with less spice.

But why? Aren't I the writer? Aren't I the one putting the words on the computer screen? Yes. Yes, I am. I am also in my character's head. If I'm striving for deep point of view, I have to mentally become them. Yup...there are times, for hours a day, I might think and write like a man. I have to act and react in an Alpha male manner. Use my pretend hunk swagger.

If I choose not to listen to my character's directions, he or she wakes me up at night. Or preys on my mind during the day long after I've moved onto another chapter.

Not all authors think the way I do. And that's okay. They don't have to deal with how my mind works. I do. So one time you might read a book of mine with little swearing and other times the language will make your hair curl. It's my characters' fault.

Happy Valentine's Day to Romance Lovers

Valentine's Day has changed a lot since I was in elementary school. It was a day all the girls approached with great glee. A class art project was always to make and decorate our card mailboxes. I remember one year, a few of us got creative and made large heart-shaped mail bags to tape to our desks.

Little boys gave valentine cards only to the prettiest girls in the class and to each other, of course. I always hoped I'd get one from a boy, but alas...

By the time I was a mother with children in grade school, teachers sent home a list of names of everyone in the class so no one was excluded. I understood the pain of exclusion and appreciated their thoughtfulness.

In high school, my kids gave and received roses to each other. Red, of course, meant love. Pink said I like you. And white meant friendship. In my sons' senior years, they each carried home nearly a dozen red roses. I threatened to buy them each a chastity belt. Of course, my words fell on deaf macho ears.

Years later, as a divorced woman I detested the approach of Valentine's Day. Female co-workers bragged about what they were wearing to go out for dinner and wondered how many dozen of roses they'd get...or jewelry...or champagne.

I survived with Chinese take-out and a good romance book. Now I've got my snuggler and don't need all the extra trappings. For us, the feeling of Valentine's in year round. Our last words to each other before we fall asleep is always, "Je t'aime."

Whether you celebrate or not, happy heart day this week. Hugs to you all.

Effie's Coming Back!

She's been the pink glue that's held my Highlander Beloved Series together. Pink-haired, pink-clad, cra-cra granny Effie. A Virginia transplant to the Highlands of Scotland. A hippie from Woodstock. A magical force. A real pip. And everyone who read the series loved her.

She's had many moments in each book. It didn't take her long to make her mark in book one. Scene one, in fact...

She wore pink pelican bedroom slippers, called baffies in Scotland. Johnson & Johnson's Baby Powder was her perfume of choice. And no color pleased her more than pink, unless it was the color of skin under a Scott's kilt. But we'd best not go there.

We found out in book two she was a witch, a protector of those weaker and in need of help and protection.

In book three, she imitated Aretha Franklin singing "Respect," using a dildo as a microphone.

Now, in book four, she's back in full-force. She's conned her younger granddaughter to come to Scotland and she's got matchmaking on her mind. Who? Effie's new husband's nephew--Dr. Thane Matheson, who's not ready to halt his women-chasing ways even if his bear claims Willow Munro is the one for Thane.

We all know Effie loves a challenge.

I Was Busted by Vonnie Davis

I've been suffering with a virus, severe cold, grunge for over two weeks. It can't be the flu because I had a flu shot back in early October. Right? So the fever, chills, sore throat, body aches, no energy, unending cough, and runny nose are just a "bug" that has outlived ten-days of antibiotics.

I can still recall the day I went to Walmart to pick up my $138. bottle of freaking antibiotics. I coughed out half a lung at the counter as I exclaimed, "What? What...are these pills made of? Gold, or what?"

I coughed out the other half of my lung in the ice cream aisle. Don't judge. First off, it was ice cream, y'all. And secondly, I was in a shocked delirium over the cost of the drugs.

Well, both the ice cream and drugs are gone and I still feel like crap. I'm still coughing and have chills. But I had to act like I felt okay because my youngest son and his wife were coming to town. You see, my grandson and the rest of his wrestling team from MIT were flying to Virginia from Mass. to wrestle in a 20 team tournament at a local college. Bonus for this grandma...I'd get to see one of my grandkids.

Yay me!!!! I didn't care how crappy I felt.

At one point, my son moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "I know you, mom. You're not fooling me. You feel like hell. Go home. Go to bed."

"Don't think you can order me around. I can still beat your behind."

"That's one of the things I love about you, mom. You always were a dreamer." Then he dug his chin back and forth into my shoulder until I growled his name. I was rewarded with his "mom giggle." Yeah, I still know how to push your buttons.

The kid might not live to see 45.

I Feel All Blogged Out

Six years ago when my first book released, I had a blog tour. I did the same for many subsequent books. Answered all the lovely comments and questions. The last few book tours, set up by my publisher, had zero comments. Except for my typical thank you to the person hosting me that day, no one said a word.

Even the crickets were silent.

Did that mean no one was reading the blogs? Looking at all my pretty promo?

Has everyone turned their backs on blogging or reading blogs?

Frankly, I'm running out of ideas. I blog less and less here at Vintage Vonnie. My time is more consumed with writing. I mainly keep my blog open in case a writer friend needs a place to promote. All the while, I hear more authors are closing down theirs. I just can't bring myself to close Vintage Vonnie.

There are times I think I could blog simply on the Davis household and entertain you for a few

minutes.

Like today. Calvin lost his glasses. He woke up and they weren't on his nightstand. They weren't behind or beneath the bed or among the covers or in the drawers of his nightstand. To stop him from tearing the place apart...I mean, can a man look for anything without items flying through the air? Tell me! I went on the hunt, too, just to save my sanity and the condition of the place.

I found them in the shower.

They were propped between his and my bottles of shampoo. Go figure.

Have a great week folks. Stay dry and healthy.

Using Body Language to Show Emotions

I'm one of those authors who have a small group of body movements I include in my writing. I have a larger list I keep on file. I just need to refer to it more often.

All body language must be considered in context, but if I've set my scene correctly and established my characters' good and bad points, a little body language can help add life to the story. I'll share a few with you.

Anger

Anger is one expression of fight-or-flight mode -- an automatic, instinctive reaction to a threat. In many cases, there is an underlying fear of being harmed. Thanks to autonomic nervous system arousal, the heart rate increases, pupils dilate, and the face may flush. Other signs of anger:

􀂃 Balling the fists

􀂃 Crossing the arms tightly

􀂃 Clenching the fists once arms are crossed

􀂃 Tight-lipped smile

􀂃 Clenched teeth

􀂃 Shaking a finger like a club

􀂃 Stabbing a finger at someone

Attraction

􀂃 Pupils dilate

􀂃 Women will cross and uncross legs to draw attention to them

􀂃 Mirroring - (usually unconsciously) mimicking the other person’s body language

Closed to Conversation

􀂃 Keeping the hands in the pockets (esp. men)

􀂃 Arms and legs crossed

􀂃 Sitting back

􀂃 Folding the hands together on a table (creates a barrier)

􀂃 The “figure-four” leg cross (setting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other) and then grabbing the lower half of the top leg with both hands.

Opennesss and Honesty

􀂃 Exposure of the palms

􀂃 Arms and legs unfolded

􀂃 Leaning forward

Submissive Signals

􀂃 Smiling - that’s why some people smile when they’re upset or afraid

􀂃 Slumping the shoulders

􀂃 Doing anything to appear smaller

Distress

􀂃 Men in particular have a tendency to stroke or rub the nape of the neck when they’re upset. It acts as a self-soothing gesture to deal with a “pain in the neck.”

􀂃 Crossed arms - arms act like a protective barrier

􀂃 Self-hugging - arms are crossed, hands gripping upper arms

􀂃 One-arm cross - one arm crosses the body to hold or touch the other arm - women keep a hand on a purse or bag strap to make this look more natural

􀂃 Clutching a purse, briefcase, or bag with both arms

􀂃 Adjusting cuffs or cuff-links (men’s version of the purse-strap grab)

􀂃 Folding the hands together in front of the crotch (men)

Lying

Lying causes a subtle tingling in the face and neck, so the gestures below are attempts to eliminate that feeling

􀂃 Covering the mouth - can be like a shh gesture, or they may cover the mouth completely - some people try to cover it by coughing

􀂃 Touching or rubbing the nose or just below the nose - often a quick, small gesture, not a scratch

􀂃 Rubbing the eyes (especially men)

􀂃 Scratching the neck with the index finger

Superiority, Confidence, Power, Dominance 

􀂃 Steepling the fingers (aka setting the tips of the fingers together)

􀂃 Folding the hands behind the back

􀂃 Thumbs sticking out from pockets when hands are in pockets (can be front or back pockets)

􀂃 Hands on hips

􀂃 Straddling a chair

􀂃 Hands folded behind the head while sitting up (in men; in women this thrusts the breasts out and becomes sexual)

Two Christmas Reads for 99 cents Each!

Today is the last day of November. In my mind, tomorrow--December 1st--starts the real Christmas season. Some start after Halloween. Others after the turkey's stuffed. Me? I wait until the holiday month arrives. Old school, I guess. That doesn't mean I haven't written a Christmas novella earlier this year. I have. It's up for purchase. Cost? 99 cents for Kindle or Nook versions.

Ciera Parker moves to Willow Bend, New York, to begin a new life away from the scandal her ex-husband created. She loves her job as a dispatcher at the police and fire station in the town. What she doesn’t love is Detective Mason Holt and his overbearing ways. He’s been watching her for two years and she’s beginning to get all hot and bothered. But she’s sworn off men and this one has a reputation of being one step above a man-whore.

Mason Holt is not what everyone thinks. He’s more family man than one would believe. Since his sister’s husband is serving overseas, he takes on duties as a father figure for his two rambunctious nephews and niece. He’s ready to settle down with children of his own and he’s got his eye and his heart fixated on a dark-haired beauty in the communications center.

Now, all he has to do is convince Ciera all men aren’t bad. That he does have his good points—until he gets stuck in her chimney on Christmas Eve.

AMAZON BUY LINK: http://a.co/6gf7jaj

The story that kicked off my "Wild Heat" firemen's series--SANTA WORE LEATHERS--is also on sale for 99 cents.

Take one man-shy reporter, a gorgeous ex-Navy SEAL turned firefighter, add in a thong-stealing dog… and Christmas will never be the same again!

There’s only one thing on Becca Sinclair’s Christmas list this holiday season – her very own column in the local paper. And if she can build a huge blog following, her wish just might come true.

Enter Dan ‘Wolf’ Wolford aka the man-whore next door and the new star of Becca’s popular, post-divorce blog about men. A Navy SEAL turned commander of the Florida Marine Rescue Unit, Wolf’s the very definition of the word alpha – and with an endless rotation of women on his doorstep, this hunk on a Harley has Becca and her female followers all hot and bothered!

All Becca wants for Christmas is her newspaper column, right? But when she finds herself the target of Wolf’s irresistible attentions, her snarky comebacks become less and less convincing and, suddenly, she’s not so sure anymore…

AMAZON BUY LINK: http://a.co/8NoE1eL

Silent Signals, A Cowboy Christmas Series

Have I got a holiday treat for you! SILENT SIGNALS, A COWBOY CHRISTMAS SERIES from the fabulous Linda Carroll-Bradd.

After losing half his herd in the Great Blizzard of 1886, rancher Konrad Werner needs to safeguard his cattle. Tomboy Anora Huxley trains the Australian Shepherds and Kelpies that run the family’s sheep herd. Although cattlemen and shepherds are at odds, the pair discovers common interests. A threat is overheard, and Konrad rides out to Anora’s ranch to protect her. The tense situation reveals their true feelings. Will Anora be swayed by family loyalty, or will she listen to her heart that responds to Konrad’s silent signals?

Mikel returned, dropping two rolls of wire onto the counter. “I have a new shipment of barbed wire too. Perhaps that works better for your needs?”

Konrad turned and laid a hand on the smooth wire. “The fence to pen in my cattle has several components, so this is what I need. But thanks, Toussaint.”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “Some ranchers prefer the barbed.”

“I do too, and I may have to resort to that when the winter weather sets in. But I’ll wait on that purchase.” He leaned his other hand on the counter. “This year, I’m building a brush fence. I’ll use what I can from downed branches and rocks cleared from the field that will be planted in the spring.” He shrugged and straightened.

“Makes sense.” Mikel nodded as he pulled the pencil from his ear. “I remember those types of fences in old country. Uncle had them around his vineyard.”

Konrad was sure his wasn’t the only sad story the store owner had heard over the last year. “Gotta come up with the cheapest solution for protecting my cattle.” He shook his head. “The ranch can’t withstand any more losses like last year.”

“Excuse me, sir.” A female voice floated in the air.

The tone was pitched low, almost intimate. Konrad shifted and raised an eyebrow at the tall woman dressed in an ill-fitting coat and a split skirt that showed several inches of boot-encased legs. “Are you speaking to me?”

“Have you considered using herding dogs to contain your cattle?” The blonde woman took one step closer, her gaze intent.

“No.” This stranger had an opinion about how he ran his ranch? His body stiffened.

“I train the dogs that work the sheep at Green Meadows Ranch, and I don’t see why the dogs couldn’t be used with cattle.” She glanced over her shoulder and then back to connect with his gaze. “The principles are the same, as long as the person uses the right cues.”

He squinted at the green-eyed woman who stood only a few inches shorter than his six-foot height. Wisps of blonde hair had escaped the edges of her plain black bonnet and straggled along her cheeks. Her face was pleasant enough—probably would be more so without the frown creasing her forehead. “Have we met?”

“I apologize, Mr. Werner. I’m Anora Huxley.” A blush reddened her cheeks. “I am acquainted with Gaelle.”

His younger sister by five years. Which explained why he didn’t know this woman from his schooling years. Huxley did sound familiar, though. But he didn’t have time to contemplate why because the woman now stood by his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a thick-set scowling man hovering two feet away who looked madder than a newly branded steer. The second member of the arguing duo.

“My dogs are exceedingly smart. A special breed with strong herding instincts. They respond to hand signs and whistles, and from a distance of more than ten rods.”

He held up a hand lest he be stuck here listening to her run down every detail. “I do not wish to be lectured on how to run my ranch. My brush fence will suffice.” Regretting the stiffness of his tone, he lifted a finger to tap the brim of his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Huxley.” He spotted the brief widening of her gaze before scooping up the roll of wire and headed toward the storeroom. Irritation at the outspoken women and her high-handed advice put an extra punch into each footfall.

Bio:

As a young girl, Linda was often found lying on her bed reading about fascinating characters having exciting adventures in places far away and in other time periods. In later years, she read and then started writing romances and achieved her first publication--a confession story. Married with 4 adult children and 2 granddaughters, Linda writes heartwarming contemporary and historical stories with a touch of humor from her home in the southern California mountains.

Linda’s Links:

Website           Blog    Facebook        Twitter                        Goodreads

When Will the Election Finally Be Over?--Monday Musings and Mumblings

I thought the day Calvin and I went to the voting polls would be the end of all the political sniping. Color me naïve. Yup, I thought as we sat up, watching the results roll in, this unholy mess would finally be over. The winner wasn't a certainty when we went to bed and, once during the night, the light from Calvin's iPad woke me. He gave me the latest update. I groaned and rolled over.

The winner was announced and the loser called to congratulate. Niceties were exchanged. Painful, I'm sure for the one who lost.

But STILL the campaign ugliness continues. Some of the posts on Twitter from both sides are caustic. Facebook posts are just as bad. It's as if everyone is looking for a fight. My own son included and if I could get my hands on him, mid-forties or not, I'd fan his ass. Whether your side won or lost, accept it with grace...and move on.

Stop with the negativity and the "yeah, well what do you think of this?" We're better than that. We're Americans and we're better than that.

I realize my words will fall on deaf ears. See, I don't care who you voted for. As an American, your vote was your right. My thanks to you for exercising it.

Now, let it go. We're better than the protests and the mean tweets and the argumentative posts.

Our country has some real issues. Let's come together and support our Congressmen and women so they can do their best. Call. Email. Make your voice heard to them. Not to the rest of us who can't do anything about it and simply just want a break from it all.

Release Day for "Hers to Heal" is in the Single Didgets

Or 8 or 7, depending on what day you read this. I feel like I wrote this book a year ago and I think I probably did. HERS TO HEAL is book 2 of the Black Eagle Ops series. If you've read book 1,  HER SURVIVOR, you'll get caught up with the characters you met and loved in that story. If you didn't read it, you won't be lost. Both books are stand alones and I tried to write the second one so readers of book 2 wouldn't feel lost.

In this powerful, sensual romance from the author of Her Survivor, a broken woman meets a shattered warrior—and discovers a passion strong enough to heal each other’s deepest wounds.

Navy SEAL Reece Browning sacrificed body and soul in the line of duty. He survived torture at the hands of America’s enemies, but lost his career and his voice in the process. Traumatized and desperate to get his PTSD under control, Reece escapes to Eagle Ridge Ranch. Under the big Texas sky, he finds peace, a renewed sense of purpose—and a woman who makes him feel like a man again. Her smile lights up his dark days, and her caress helps him forget the night terrors

.

Ex-Marine Gina Wilson also bears painful scars: emotional wounds inflicted by men she once trusted with her life. She has fought hard to overcome her demons and build a good life for her daughter, and Reece is too intense, too damaged, too raw to let into her heart. Yet she’s drawn irresistibly to his steely gaze and heated embrace. No one else understands what it’s like to suffer in silence. And when Gina’s daughter is threatened, it’s Reece who risks everything to save the day.

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