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Teaser Thursday- Dawn Over Dayfield

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This room smelled even more of old things and dust, and Andy stifled a cough. Around him, papers were crammed between books or piled in unsteady stacks. Andy saw no one else in the room.

He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

“Oh. Hang on.”

Andy waited, rocking slightly back and forth on his feet. A slim man who barely reached Andy’s shoulder walked out from between two shelving units. His brown hair was tousled, and a small gold hoop adorned each ear and one eyebrow. He had a sparse mustache and goatee, and his brown eyes gleamed even in the dim light.

He seemed as out of place in Dayfield as the elderly librarian would have been in downtown Boston.

Andy cleared his throat again and tried to moisten his dry lips. “Hi. I’m Andy Forrest. She, um, the librarian said she told you I’d be here today?”

“Yeah.” The man’s face crinkled into something resembling a smile. He held out his hand. “Weston Thibeault. Historian, such as it is.”

Andy shook hands with him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, though I wish it was in a nicer place.” Weston grimaced. “Sorry. I tend to be a bit cynical about this town. No reason for it to spill over on you. You won’t be here long, I take it.”

“How long I stay depends on how easy it is to find the information I need.” Andy glanced around.

Weston chuckled. “Yeah, it’s kind of a mess, isn’t it? People keep dropping off stuff they figure I can shoehorn in. Which I sort of can, but it isn’t a matter of simply shoving things onto shelves. There is, believe it or not, a system, and I haven’t had much time lately to put things away.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re going to have to. I’m the only one who knows where things are around here.” Weston gestured at the nearest shelves. “This is what a degree in history gets you. So Mildred said you want to find out about a family from Dayfield?”

“Yeah.” Andy hadn’t given the librarian the whole story when he’d called. There were some things he wasn’t comfortable saying over the phone. And after the way the woman—Mildred, he guessed—had greeted him, Andy doubted he would ever be comfortable enough to tell her anything. “My birth father’s from here.”

Weston raised his pierced eyebrow. “You’re adopted?”

“Yeah.” Andy braced himself for the myriad questions he generally got when people found out he’d been “given away.” Questions which, for the most part, he couldn’t answer.

“What about your birth mother?” Weston asked.

“I think she lives on the North Shore. At least, that’s where she was living when I was born, as far as I know.”

“She might have moved since.” Weston paused. “What are their names? If one or maybe both of them are here in town, you could bypass all the paperwork and talk to them.”

“I don’t want to meet them,” Andy blurted. “I’d rather leave it at finding out more about my father and the family. History, you know?”

“Sure.” Weston wrinkled his forehead. “Okay, well, if you have their names, I’m sure we’ll have something about them here. At least about your father. We have info about pretty much everyone who’s lived here, at least in the past century and a half or so.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Andy glanced around again. There was no guarantee the shelves and piles contained anything about his biological father, and even if they did, he hadn’t decided how much he actually wanted to learn. The biggest question he had was one old books and papers probably couldn’t answer: Why had his birth parents given him up?

“The names?” Weston prompted.

Andy took a deep breath. “My mother is Elise Cummings. My father is Vardon Chaffee.”

He expected some sign of recognition from Weston. In a town as small as Dayfield, it was unlikely Weston wouldn’t have heard the name. But Andy didn’t expect the disgusted twist of Weston’s mouth or the narrowing of his eyes.

“Chaffee?” Weston spoke the name as if he were spitting out a mouthful of shit. “You’re a Chaffee?”

“No. I’m a Forrest.” Andy folded his arms and squared his feet. He had no clue why “Chaffee” was a bad thing, but he damn sure wasn’t about to let Weston insult him because of a guy Andy had never met. “My birth father was a Chaffee. And I’m guessing you aren’t too happy about it?”

Weston pressed his lips together and looked away for a moment. When he faced Andy again, his expression was blank. “Sorry. Yeah, that name tends to leave a bad taste in most mouths around here. You don’t know anything about the family?”

“Not really.” Andy’s adoptive father had tried to give him what little information he had beyond the names of Andy’s birth parents and their hometowns, but Andy had refused to listen. He only wanted to learn enough to relieve his dad’s fear that Andy might carry some unknown health condition, like the heart problem that had killed Andy’s mom.

“Wow. Okay.” Weston ran his hand through his hair. “So not only am I going to have to find you information about the family, but I’ll have to educate you so you don’t say that name in too many places around here.”

Dawn Over Dayfield Release!

Finally! I’ve been waiting a year for this day!

Well, actually for tomorrow… but close enough.

I’ve blogged a few times now about the creation and development of the novel known as Dawn Over Dayfield, so I won’t rehash what I’ve already said. Suffice it to say, a then-friend planted the plot seed and helped me with some brainstorming and research, I fell in love with the book as I was writing it, and fortunately, since it turned out not to be a romance but a suspense novel, Dreamspinner Press had recently launched its non-romance imprint DSP Publications, and they were happy to take the book.

Dawn Over Dayfield was accepted last March. I don’t mind the amount of time between then and now, because it means DSP Publications and I have been able to do some advance promotions that might not otherwise have been possible. When you’re releasing a book, it’s kind of important to let readers know it exists!

But now, at last, it’s time for Dawn Over Dayfield to see the light of day, and I hope readers will love the story and characters as much as I do. You can get your copy from DSP Publications, Amazon.com, and Omnilit.com.

New Book Next Week!

Next Tuesday, March 1, marks the release of my first suspense novel, Dawn Over Dayfield. While the story has romantic elements, it isn’t a romance. The characters didn’t seem to want it to be, and that made sense to me; it’s difficult for love to form over a few days of research, mystery solving, and nearly being murdered.

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Dayfield is a fictional town in central Massachusetts, and it definitely has issues. Once a booming factory town, Dayfield began its decline in the 1980s when the furniture factory which employed many residents closed for good. Nearly thirty years later, the town’s fate was sealed when a tornado struck the area, destroying some buildings that no one can afford to rebuild. (While Dayfield and the furniture factory are fictional, the tornado that hit that part of Massachusetts in 2011 was all too real, as were the effects on some of the towns in the area.)

During the editing process, one of the editors who worked on this novel said that Dayfield almost seemed like a character in and of itself, and that’s how I felt writing the book. I didn’t develop the town entirely on my own; someone who, at the time, was a good friend helped. And all the work he and I put into creating Dayfield definitely paid off.

Dawn Over Dayfield is available for preorder from the publisher, DSP Publications; Amazon.com; and Omnilit.com.

Dedications

When an author has a book published, many times they’ll include a dedication at the beginning. This might be to a friend, a family member, fellow authors who were supportive, their editor…any number of people. The point is for them to let not only that person/those people know they’re valued, but to let readers know as well.

I have several books that are dedicated to my husband. He’s the one whose emotional–and often, financial–support has made it possible for me to write and get published. Under my YA pen name, I have books dedicated to my kids and a few of their friends who inspired the stories or asked me to write something specific.

One of my Real Werewolves Don’t Eat Meat books, Tempeh for Two (the final in the series) is dedicated to my friend Paul, who had read the previous books in the series and for whom I was struggling to come up with a holiday gift. That book was my 2013 holiday gift to him, with the dedication and the inclusion of a character, Paul Drake, who was based on him.

Unfortunately, I have other books that are dedicated to people who are no longer in my life. One of those is Dawn Over Dayfield, which releases March 1 from DSP Publications. A little over a year ago, my then-boyfriend (I’m polyamorous, for those who don’t know; I’m married but sometimes also am involved with others, and my husband is on board with it) and I were talking about a story I wanted to write. He and I came up with the town of Dayfield, inspired partly by towns in which he’d lived growing up. He helped me with historical research about aspects I wanted to include in the story, and he cheered me on as I wrote it and beta read it before I sent it to the publisher.

He broke up with me in August, and I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times since, most recently in October. Which means the release of Dawn Over Dayfield is going to be a little bittersweet. Instead of being able to celebrate with him as I’d hoped, I’ll be sitting here wondering if he even remembers it’s being released. The book is dedicated to him, by the nickname I gave him when we were seeing each other, but he’s probably not going to know it.

Even so, he contributed a lot to the writing of the book, and I don’t regret the dedication. Maybe someday, he’ll see it.

Teaser Thursday- Vengeance Is Sweet

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Finally Norris beckoned me to the table. I sat down, and she glared at Ghast until he got up and walked away. “So tell me what happened,” she said.

“Starting with what?” I didn’t want to go into the whole leaving the apartment too late thing if she only wanted to know about the part after I’d discovered someone had taken Keeley from school.

“Starting with why someone else picked up the little girl,” she replied.

Ah. “I’m still learning the transit system. I’m new around here. I didn’t realize I’d be running late, and something held up one of the trains. I showed up at Keeley’s school about ten or fifteen minutes late and the secretary said Alex—Mr. Ruiz—had picked her up already. He’d told her I’d called to say I’d be late.”

She jotted something down on a small notepad. “Why didn’t you call him?”

“I tried. He was in a meeting.” I’d said that before. I knew I had. Keeley had a point about people not listening. “I didn’t have the phone numbers for the school or for his receptionist, as I think you heard. When he didn’t answer his phone, I could only go on to the school and hope for the best. Unfortunately, I found the worst.”

“A bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” She put down her pen. “Who do you think you’re kidding?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I shivered under her penetrating look. She hadn’t figured out the truth about me, had she? Even a child who recognized angels and other demons didn’t know I wasn’t human. This woman didn’t have any way of knowing what I was. I hoped.

“You show up at her school late, which opens the way for someone else to take the kid.” She ticked this off on one finger. “Then you conveniently figure out they’ve brought her here.” Another finger. “And you run in and, without noticing a fight that caused about two thousand dollars’ worth of damage, just happen to find the kid hiding in a pile of beanbags. Have you always wanted to be a hero?”

Now I understood. She thought I’d either lied about what had happened or had staged it to gain attention. Although her assumption irked me, it was probably for the best. At least she wouldn’t attempt to find the perpetrator and wind up running afoul of one of Hell’s higher-ups.

I didn’t like being falsely accused, though. “I showed up at the school late because of the trains,” I repeated. “I’m sure if you check with the subway people, they’ll tell you about the delay. The secretary said the person who took Keeley told her to tell me I’d know where they’d gone. Alex had asked me to bring Keeley here, so I figured maybe they’d come here for some reason.”

“Why would a kidnapper take a child somewhere people would be likely to look for her?”

“If I knew that, I’d be a kidnapper, not a babysitter,” I snapped. “Look. I know you’re under pressure to figure all this out. All I can tell you is what happened. If you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. I’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I’d like you to stop and think about what might have happened to Keeley if I hadn’t found her when I did.”

“Nothing, if you’re the one who set it up,” she countered.

“Excuse me.” Ghast approached the table. “If you’re charging Omara with something, please get on with it. If you aren’t, she has a dinner engagement, and I have other business to attend to.”

“She doesn’t leave until I say so.”

Something in her tone made me take a closer look. The Officer Norris we’d seen outside had been quiet, almost shy. Probably a first-year officer or something. Now, though, she seemed completely authoritative and confident.

The change had occurred after I’d persuaded her to get permission to bring Keeley inside while we waited for Alex. Norris had been out of sight for several minutes. Longer than it should have taken to get a yes or no answer.

We’d assumed Tertarch and his buddies had gone away. Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe we just hadn’t been able to see them.

Special Guest Nancy Corrigan

Bridged by Love

Nancy Corrigan

 

Follow his head, he breaks her heart. Follow his heart…he breaks his pack.

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Kagan Wolves, Book 1

From the moment he was born, Nic Kagan’s future was sealed. He’ll accept a mate, have kids, and eventually take over his father’s role as pack alpha. There’s just one problem.

Long ago, his heart settled on Riley, the pack’s human doctor and honorary member. Except only half of him can have her. The other half—his wolf—won’t give a weak non-shifter female a second sniff.

No one—human or shifter—has left a mark on Riley’s soul like Nic. But with his father hospitalized, any hope things could work out between them is slipping away. Yet Riley understands something else about pack life. Power isn’t always a physical gift; love is just as strong. What she and Nic have is worth fighting for.
With rival threats mounting, Nic realizes he can’t simply turn his back on Riley. Though his wolf could tear his heart out for it, he must fight for what he wants before he loses his mate. His pack. Maybe even his sanity.

Warning: Contains a reluctant alpha with only one roadblock between his heart and the woman he loves—biology. And a woman who isn’t giving up on him, even if it means risking her life to fool Mother Nature.

 

The details…

Book Title: Bridged by Love

Series Name: Kagan Wolves

Series Number: 1

Author: Nancy Corrigan

ISBN13: 978-1-61923-004-0

Length: 63,982

Categories: PAW: Paranormal, PAW: Red Hot, RH: Paranormal & Alternate Worlds

Tags: Shape-Shifters; Werewolves

Price: 5.50

Publication Date: July 21st 2015

 

Read a teaser…

Nic ran through the woods. The broken twigs and rocks poking into his paws barely registered. He pivoted and headed deeper into the underbrush. The sharp pulling of the low-hanging tree limbs on his fur appealed to his need to punish himself. He wanted to hurt. A fight would’ve been better, but he couldn’t go around initiating any. Actions like that would come off as a dominance tactic, and the Kagan males had always held to a higher standard. They understood all members of a pack played a vital role.

He lowered his head and pushed through the bowing evergreens. An open space greeted him. He froze. Sides heaving and blood soaking his fur, he panted and took in the small home in front of him—Riley’s place. His dad had bought it for her. Last time Nic had seen it was right after she’d moved in. She must’ve remodeled since then. Where the concrete stoop once stood, a wide front porch spanned the house. It looked inviting with the swing and chairs decorating it. He could see himself lounging on it, enjoying the night.

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

It didn’t surprise him that he’d ended up here. He hadn’t been able to get thoughts of her out of his head. Guilt ate at him. He’d treated her like shit the last time they were together. She deserved an apology and explanation. If he’d been man enough, he would’ve been straight with her then.

He padded across the gravel road. On the other side, soft grass met the pads of his paws. Halfway across the front yard, the door opened. Riley stepped out, a bottle of beer in hand. An oversize flannel shirt covered her chest and bare thighs. Jealousy surged, knowing she wore another male’s clothes. Shock replaced it with his next breath. It was his shirt, the one he’d had on the last time they were together.

She whipped her head in his direction. Narrowed eyes zeroed in on him. They widened on a gasp. She set her bottle down and sprinted across the yard. Her loosely buttoned top gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her legs. He sat on his haunches to watch her, but she reached him before he could decide if the swath of black between her thighs was a thong or a bikini.

“Nic”—she dropped to her knees in front of him—“what happened?”

He couldn’t answer her in his wolf form. She knew that. She also understood that depending on how much control he gave his other half, he might not even hear her. It never stopped her from approaching shifters. She’d said she could tell who was in charge by looking into their eyes.

“You’re bleeding.” She brushed back his fur and gently touched the skin around a long gash. “This wasn’t from a fight, was it?”

He shook his head, the only answer he could give in his limited form.

She stared into his eyes. Not a hint of fear showed in her expression. She treated his dad and the other dominants with the respect owed them by avoiding eye contact. Never Nic, at least not in private, but the rules were different around the other wolves. Riley had always understood the need for hierarchy among the members. In the pack’s eyes, she was as low as one could be. In his, she was his equal.

“Shift and tell me why you decided to drag your sorry ass to my house. None of these cuts need my attention.”

 

Get the book at…

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For more purchase links, visit my website.

 

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A little about Nancy…

A true romantic at heart, Nancy Corrigan is convinced there’s a knight in shining armor for every woman (or man), but you won’t find damsels in distress in her stories. She adores pairing alpha heroes with women strong enough to match them and bring them to their knees. She also enjoys flipping the traditional roles in romances because her motto is—love and people should never be forced to conform to anyone’s norm.

She holds a degree in chemistry and has worked in research but now focuses on ensuring quality. She considers it the perfect outlet for her as she’s the first to admit she has some OCD tendencies. It carries over into her writing life too. While engrossed in a novel, she has a habit of forgetting to eat and sleep. Fortunately, she’s married to her own knight in shining armor who understands her oddities and loves her anyway. They reside in Pennsylvania with their three children, dog, snake and guinea pigs. Her other interests include tattoos, animals, classic cars and all things spooky and sexy.

 

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The Story Behind With Every Touch

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In spring 2013, a lot of things were changing in my personal life. Mostly good changes, but still, change sometimes messes with getting things done. I was struggling to continue writing, and I felt like I was treading water with stale plots and characters, just trying to make them fresh somehow so I could keep my backlist going and bring out new releases.

I finally reached a point, though, where I had to stop. My brain was frazzled, and the ideas just weren’t there. For a couple of months, I didn’t write anything at all.

Then I had to start again, because I owed a book to a publisher. I couldn’t think of a single idea, so I went into a chat room I belong to and asked for suggestions. A guy I know–who happens to be a plumber–said, “You should write about a good-hearted plumber with incredible hands.”

We took the conversation private, and with his feedback, I brainstormed the story. A plumber and a TV reporter meet, have sexytimes, and then unexpectedly fall in love. When I started writing the story, the words, for the first time in months, just plain flowed. Everything came together.

The publisher to whom I owed the book accepted it, but then many things happened and the book never reached the editing stage. I asked for a contract cancellation, which was granted, and took the book to Loose Id instead. And tomorrow, it will be available for sale! Check it out on the Loose Id website.

Teaser Thursday- I Should Tell You

My new male/male contemporary romance novel I Should Tell You released Tuesday from Loose Id. On Monday, I posted a contest for a free PDF copy of the novel. 

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It took him a few seconds to register that he’d thought the L word, and he wondered about it, but his brain wasn’t clear enough to figure out anything.

Meanwhile, Hunter had said something, and Mitch had completely missed it. He shook his head. Hunter sighed. “I said, because I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get you out of my mind easily enough to tell you to go fuck yourself. And I’m a little too stubborn to give up on you anyway.”

“I don’ gettit.” Mitch’s words ran together even more now. He needed to sleep. His eyes drifted closed, and he tried to force them open again, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded, or if he was just seeing outlines through his eyelids. That happened sometimes.

“I know you don’t.” Hunter’s voice was growing more distant. “I’ll explain in the morning. Get some sleep. I’m going to turn off the lights.”

“Wait. No.” This time Mitch did manage to open one eye. “Need li’ on. Mine.”

“You want me to leave the lamp on beside you?” Hunter said. Mitch nodded, and Hunter turned off his own lamp. “Okay. I’m shutting off the other lights though. We don’t need those on, right?”

Mitch nodded again. He just needed a little bit of light to keep the monsters away.

The second Hunter left the bed to switch off the other lights in the room, Mitch’s heart stopped. He was alone. “Stay.”

“I’m not leaving,” Hunter said. “Just shutting off the lights. See?” He killed the light in the bathroom, which left the room illuminated only by the small lamp hanging above Mitch’s nightstand. Then he got back into bed. “I’m right here, Mitch. I’m not leaving you.”

His voice was so gentle it brought tears to Mitch’s eyes. For a moment Mitch was afraid he would break down like a little baby. He couldn’t let that happen. Hunter would consider him weak and whiny, and then he would leave regardless of what he said.

“Hold me.” Mitch wasn’t sure he’d said it out loud. He hoped not. He hadn’t meant to.

But Hunter nodded and moved closer to him. “Solara said you don’t like to be touched.”

“I don’…” Mitch trailed off, trying to wrap his brain around what he was trying to say so he could get the words out. “Know y’ere.” He hoped Hunter would be able to translate the last as know you’re here, because that was as clearly as Mitch could say it.

“You want me to hold you so you know I haven’t left?” He held out one arm. “Come here. Can you sleep if I’m touching you?”

“Dunno.” He wondered how Hunter knew he’d had trouble sleeping in the past with someone else in the same bed. It must have just been part of the magic of Hunter.

“Let’s try,” Hunter said. “Put your head on my chest, and I’ll just keep one arm around you so you can move away if you need to.”

Mitch scooted closer to him. He’d never been able to sleep in the same bed with another person. Sometimes he couldn’t even sleep with someone else in the same room. It was impossible to know what they might do to him.

But Hunter wouldn’t do anything. Mitch couldn’t have said how he knew it, but he had absolutely no doubt. He rested his head on Hunter’s chest, and Hunter’s arm curled around his back. A strong arm. One belonging to the man who would fight all the nightmares. The man who would protect him.

“I’m right here,” Hunter murmured. “You can get up if you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

The last few words trailed into fog and haze as Mitch gave up fighting the pills. His eyes closed by themselves, and he didn’t know anything more.

He had no nightmares.

Happy Release Week!

I have another novel releasing this week. Tomorrow, as a matter of fact. And I’m really excited!

I Should Tell You is a male/male contemporary romance very loosely inspired by the song “I Should Tell You” from the musical Rent. In my novel, Hunter Girard is a guitarist who is six years sober. He turned to alcohol as a teen to deal with an incident of abuse, and it took time and the support of his family for him to choose to stop drinking. Which means his choice to audition as a guitarist for show at a drag club may be an odd one, but he needs the extra money from the gig to be able to move away from his partying roommate.

Mitch Walters chose drag as a means of bringing out Starry Daye, the confident, “unbroken” person he wishes he could be. Throughout his childhood Mitch suffered at the hands of his father, while his mother pretended not to know anything was wrong. As a young adult he became involved in the drag scene, and he was gay bashed outside a club. Now, Mitch uses prescription painkillers to cope with his flashbacks and memories. With the help of his drag mother Solara Flare, Mitch is trying to kick the habit–but when he and Hunter become involved, Mitch doubts his ability to handle the relationship without the drugs.

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Although the themes and content of I Should Tell You are very dark–and potentially triggering–the story is hopeful. True love doesn’t heal all wounds, but sometimes it can give someone the motivation to try to heal. Hunter and Mitch are just beginning their relationship, but their support of each other helps them both.

I Should Tell You is already up on the Loose Id website, and will be available for order tomorrow. And you have a chance to win a free PDF copy right here by posting a comment about one thing you have done for someone you love. I’ll draw the winner on Saturday, March 8 at noon.