I love to talk. I don’t mean just the usual dialogue that happens between friends and neighbors or a phone conversation with my sister. Nope, I’m talking industrial sized, get the earplugs out, run for the nearest exit, Nina’s opening her mouth kind of chatter.
Seriously. Mr. Nina once bet me that I couldn’t carry on a one-sided conversation for the duration of a three hour car trip—once. The poor man’s ears were bleeding by the time we arrived and I was still going strong. LOL! I have no trouble finding things to talk about.
Marketing on blogs, twitter and facebook are not a problem for me. It releases some of those pent up words. But I digress. This post isn’t really about social media and marketing; it’s about how much I love to share.
So it’s no wonder when I finish reading a really good book, I’ve been known to send the author a note to tell her how much I enjoyed the story. But then I’m quick to give compliments as well. All of us hear so few good things in the course of our day, I like to be that little piece of happiness (and it goes back to my need to chat with everyone) that brightens someone’s day. But I’m an anomaly I’m sure. I don’t think many readers pen a quick note or email to their favorite author.
And I wondered why. Is it a new trend created by a generation that would rather text a brief message 40 times a day before sitting down to write a newsy letter? Has it always been this way? I’m curious, have you ever written to an author? Have you thought about it and didn’t for one reason or another? Let me know. I’m curious like that.
A woman determined to protect her heart…
Landscaping in Delmont, Maine hasn’t been DEIRDRE TILLING’s only passion. Up until two months ago, it had included a live-in lover. Jilted for the third time in as many years, Deirdre’s decided to give up on love. With her feet firmly planted on the path of one night stands, she finds herself heating up the sheets with a dark haired stranger she met at her new employer’s party. But one night with the man who is both sexy as hell and compassionate, may not be enough.
An agent hell bent on proving himself…
DEA agent, AYDEN SCOTT, has a lot to prove after a disastrous drug bust in Miami three years earlier that left a member of his team dead. Working undercover as lead investigator, he’s determined to bring down an elusive drug cartel smuggling heroin into central Maine. He’ll use any means necessary to complete his objective, including sleeping with the suspected drug Lord’s landscaper, Deirdre. He just hadn’t expected the feisty redhead to be so much more than long legs and dangerous curves.
One night neither of them can forget…
Deirdre and Ayden both thought one sexually explosive romp in the sack would be the end of their relationship. But Deirdre’s arrest for heroin possession and her father’s near-fatal heart attack prompts Ayden to confess his true identity. When Deirdre is kidnapped by the drug cartel and used as a pawn, Ayden is forced to choose between his heart and his mission. The question is…who will survive his decision?
As fast as Jameson’s lawyer had gotten her out if the interrogation room, it had taken nearly an hour for the Cutler police to process her. She’d second-guessed her decision not to go with Jameson countless times while the wheels of justice rolled at a snail’s pace. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that Jameson hadn’t somehow managed to throw a wrench into her release.
Unwilling to wait for a ride at the police station, Deirdre had walked out the front door, called the only cab in town on her cell phone and come straight to the condo.
Now Austin stood in his kitchen, fixing her dinner and offering her help she didn’t deserve.
“Deirdre, here, drink this while I finish up the spaghetti. You’re still shaking.” Austin leaned over the bar and handed her the glass of scotch he’d just poured.
She attempted to smile, but her mouth, like every other muscle in her body, only trembled. Deirdre sat on the stool at the bar of the kitchen, sipping the scotch, hoping the liquid warming its way to her belly would take away the cold fear and confusion. Despite the heavy wool sweater Austin had pulled over her head, Deirdre was chilled straight to her core. She knew it had nothing to do with the night air.
“What did Mark have to say when you called him?” Austin asked. He stood at the stove absently sipping his drink and occasionally stirring the two pots.
“He thought it could’ve been one of the kids as well. It’s the only thing that makes any sense in this whole mess. I dump the refuse from my jobs at the school, and they use it as mulch on their farm project. Most of the time I leave the one-ton right there on school grounds.”
Deirdre shrugged before continuing. “They could’ve planned to pick up the drugs tonight while the truck was parked. Everyone knows I don’t bother to lock the equipment. There’s never been a reason.” She sipped absently at the scotch.
“With all the places that truck’s been and the number of people having access to it, it was no wonder Jameson’s lawyer kept them from arresting you. Anyone could get you off with the holes in that evidence. So what, the drugs were in your truck. There’s no way to prove they were yours.” Austin shrugged.
“At the moment my guilt or innocence doesn’t matter. Mark’s pulled the kids from the job. They won’t be going back to the Jameson estate. He’s figuring, with the arrest, we’ll likely lose the job anyway. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he’s probably right.” Deirdre thought about all the things she’d intended to do with the extra money. She knew better than to make plans. It only caused heartache.
Deirdre looked at Austin. “It’ll be for the best,” she said. “But it makes me feel like shit. I suppose I should call Shawn before I go traipsing up there tomorrow.” Tipping her head back, Deirdre downed the scotch. She knew it wasn’t the answer, but the numbing wash of alcohol would be a welcome relief from the overwhelming sense of doom beginning to envelope her.
“And to top it off, I’m bringing all this here to you.” Heat crawled up her cheeks. “After the way I treated you Saturday, I’m surprised you didn’t slam the door in my face.”
He turned to look at her, leaning against the counter. “Not in my nature to turn away a woman in need.”
“Even after she treats you like crap?”
“I’m a grown man, Deirdre. I knew the score that night when I brought you here.”
“But leaving the way I did was cowardly.” She toyed with the glass. “Would you believe me if I told you if I could do it all over again I’d do things differently?”
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Award-winning erotic romance author, Nina Pierce, grew up in a house full of readers. So becoming enamored with books was only natural. She discovered romance stories in her early teens, falling hopelessly in love with knights in shining armor and the damsels who saved them.
Eventually, reading about alpha males and the journey to find their happy-ever-after endings wasn’t enough. She needed to pen her own stories of fated loves and soul mates. Nina’s discovered the passionate side of romance with her sexy stories. For her, it’s all about the sweet scent of seduction mixed with the heartwarming aroma of romance.
Nina resides in the northeast with her high school sweetheart and soul mate of twenty-seven years, their three grown children and several very spoiled cats who consider her “staff”.
You can keep up with her releases at her website (http://www.NinaPierce.com) or follow her on Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/NinaPierce) and Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Nina-Pierce-Erotic-Romance-Author/148783705168578 (And of course she’d love to hear from you Nina@NinaPierce.com)