Tuesday, March 25, 2014

A TASTY EXCERPT

Hello Everyone!

For those of you who've not yet indulged in "Perhaps Another Time," I want to give you a taste of it here. Mmm, maybe a bit more than a taste ... how about a mouthful?

Now, to set the scene, allow me to introduce ex-factory-girl,Amanda Levesque. Having lived the first 25 years of her life in the 1800s, she is now in a whole new world ... our own 2014. Needless, to say her take on matters of a sexual nature are more than a little more ... shall we say, modest, than those of her fiance, Jesse Randall, musician and jingle-producer from the present day. This scene takes place shortly after a violent quarrel over whose century really is better. Enjoy!


*     *     *     *
Jesse was startled awake sometime around two by the first loud clap of thunder. His eyes flew open and, through the skylight over his bed, he saw bright angry flashes of lightning and heard their crackling reports. As he came wider awake he noticed that the rain was falling in torrents. After a few more minutes he dragged himself out of bed, wearing only the navy boxers he slept in, and went to close the vulnerable living room windows. After cranking them shut he started back to his room.
     He detoured into the kitchen to check the window there. Then, a heavy clap of thunder drew his attention toward the Florida room. There he saw Amanda’s stark silhouette against the patio door just as it was backlit by couple of flashes.
     She was gazing outside, seemingly unaware that he stood in the doorway behind her. He was about to announce his presence so as not to startle her when, without turning, she spoke first.
     “When I was a little girl, and there was a thunderstorm, Papa was always afraid. He would gather all of us to come sit with him by the window, where he would remain until the storm passed, even if it took half the night.” She paused, then said, “I suppose I have inherited some of his traits after all.”
     As she spoke, Jesse came up behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and touched his lips to the back of her head. “I’m sorry, Mandy,” he said softly. “I am.”
     He felt a little laugh lift her shoulders. “How did you know I was awake and out of bed?”
     “Well, I ...” He decided not to tell her about the windows. “I just did.”
     “Hm.” Amanda turned toward him and for the first time noticed his state of dress. And he, hers. She drew in a quick breath at the sight of his near-nakedness. Jesse did the same when he saw that she was wearing her knee-length nightshirt and perhaps little else.

* * *

Amanda considered leaving to put on something more appropriate. Seconds later she was surprised to realize how little it seemed to matter now. She was no less surprised to discover that she was not at all offended by the sight of his bare chest. She was flustered, however. Not to mention captivated. Lightning flashed white across it, making it look like sculpted ivory. She saw the hard muscles of his breast rise and fall above his heavy breaths and beneath a broad T of hair. It was tawny gold, she imagined, but now silver in the flashes of searing white light. And that ever-present charge flared between them in full force.
     Many seconds passed before she became aware of her indiscreet gaze. “Oh ... forgive me,” she said in an embarrassed whisper.
     “There’s nothing to forgive,” Jesse said just before the loudest clap of thunder yet. It was deafening, nearly synchronized with the lightning, and it made them both jump closer together. His hands squeezed tighter around her elbows and he smiled comic relief as the boom echoed away and the mesmerizing sound of the rain could be heard again. “I’d be happy to ride ‘er out with you,” he offered without a trace of patronizing. Amanda looked deep into his eyes for the first time in many hours and smiled.
     “Boy, do I miss seeing that,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. She gave him another, and together they walked over to the loveseat. A strange sort of calm flowed through them, though the storm raged on.
     Jesse sat down and drew her down beside him. She considered one last time putting on something more discreet, but Jesse seemed no longer concerned by their lack of dress and, despite the lightning, the room remained sufficiently darkened.
     Here they watched the storm together and, at times, she hoped that it might last forever for it felt so good to be held. She smiled inwardly when he continued to hold her long after the thunder had moved away, leaving only the sound of the rain in its wake.
     Amanda listened to it spatter heavily onto the glass above them for a moment. Softly, she said, “This is nice, sitting here. Even with the darkness and the rain.”
     Jesse smiled. “Why don’t you put the TV on — just to brighten the room a little.” Amanda reached over and pressed the remote’s on button, having already mastered the modern custom of not even bothering to lift it off the end table. She settled back, then lurched forward when a scene came on showing a prim English gentleman and his short, mustached servant lifting off in a balloon from the streets of Paris.
     Amanda could not believe what she was seeing. “Oh, mon Dieu, do you know what that is?”
     Jesse grinned. “Mm-hm. And something tells me you do, too.”
She watched some more, her elbows resting on her bare knees, her expression growing more certain. “That, sir,” she said, settling back into the crook of his arm, “is Around The World In Eighty Days by Jules Verne. You’ve heard of it? It’s still known?”
     “Of course it is. But I didn’t know you’d seen it already.”
     She feigned impatience with his teasing. “It was a book long before it was a — a movie. And yes, I’ve read the book. Several times, in fact. I’d know Phileas Fogg and Passepartout anywhere.” She chuckled. “They’re just as I’ve always imagined.”
     She became lost in the beauty, the majesty, and the romance of the French countryside. It was as intoxicating as champagne. “My grandparents were born in France,” she whispered, shaking her head. “It’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined.”
     Jesse drew wisps of her hair back behind her ear and he said, “Hey, Mandy, look ... you get to fly over France after all, if only on TV. Someday we’ll do it for real. I promise.”
     She smiled and continued to gaze dreamily at the scenery as it moved from farmlands and vineyards to the snow-topped Alps and beyond. She pressed herself a little more snugly against his chest.

* * *

Jesse drank in the scenery of her parted lips and soft eyes. Never had she ever looked more beautiful or more filled with passion than at that moment.
     Never had he felt more pain. What if something were to go wrong and Amanda became trapped in the past? And what if he couldn’t get back there to her? The chance of something like that happening was perhaps small in percentage points but frightening in its implication. He had to go with her, damn it, no matter how much she kicked and screamed. They were engaged and he intended to keep it that way.
     They couldn’t very easily maintain any kind of a relationship if each of them were stuck in different centuries.
     But just then he glanced at her again and marveled at the strength and determination he saw there now, thinking as well of the courage she’d displayed in making her decision to go back alone. He found himself torn between honoring her request, and going back to 1879 with her in spite of it.
     He stared out at the rain for a moment. “It’s just so impossible for me to think of letting you go back there alone.”
     In a soft voice, Amanda answered, “As I’ve said before, I am quite capable.”
     “I know you are. But there would be that slight chance that something would go wrong beyond your control. And that’s what I have so much trouble dealing with.” He turned toward her. “I didn’t mean to yell at you earlier.”
     Amanda smiled. “Yes, you did. And I understand why. But, somehow you must understand that I’m doing this because I love you. You live a wonderful life here and I simply cannot bear the thought of you losing it. I couldn’t live with myself.” She took his hand in hers. “Let me be strong, as the women of your time have taught me. And I promise that, by the grace of God, I’ll return to you and become one of them.”
     Jesse sighed in a sign of acceptance. “So when do you think you’ll leave?”
     “After dark — when I won’t be seen leaving the mill.”
     His lips formed into a despondent wow.

* * *

Amanda closed her eyes to block the sight and, a second later, felt those same lips upon hers. In another second, their arms were flung around one another and they kissed as never before. Their tongues were fever-hot and they darted and probed as their hands sought to memorize the landscape of each other’s body in exacting detail.
     Jesse raised his hands to cup her face, then to trace its outline, feeling the constrictions in her throat as she suckled him. Amanda ravaged his hair with frantic fingers desperate to know every wave. Jesse used his lips to draw her tongue deep into his mouth and she responded for the first time by thrusting it in and drawing it back so expertly that neither could help but see the danger ahead. He broke free for a moment and kissed her neck all over until he’d cooled down.
     But when he returned his lips to hers she resumed her probing assault upon his restraint and he soon forced himself to break free once again. He placed a series of quick kisses lower and lower upon her chest until he reached the place where her flesh became soft enough to drive him mad. He continued to move hopelessly toward the edge and he knew it. Nonetheless, he gave her mouth a taste of her own teasing. She answered with a series of feather-light touches across the breadth of his bare chest.
     “Mmm ... Mandy,” he breathed against her skull.
     “Ah, que je t’aime,” she breathed huskily against his chest, her breath hot from a month of suppressed longing.
     They had slid forward on the loveseat and the hem of Amanda’s nightshirt had ridden far up her thighs. Jesse riveted his gaze upon them, her white skin reflecting the many colors of the movie’s scenery flickering on the TV screen. His left hand dropped to her knees and he began to caress her legs softly and sensually, in ever-widening, ever-climbing ovals. At once their breathing quickened as they careened down a reckless road toward the brink.
     As his hands dared themselves higher, Amanda clearly saw up ahead the looming point of no return. The bold, foolish touch moved higher still and mingled with the masculine scent of him, mingled with the hardness of his chest beneath her own daring fingers, mingled with the sound of unashamed murmurs and moans accompanied by the film’s mesmerizing music.
     Amanda felt her body arch in response to this onslaught of fantastic and frightening sensations that threatened to crumble the last of her defenses. She felt her breasts straining desperately against her nightshirt. Seconds later she gasped when his hand left her thighs to cup and caress her breast as if stroking the kitten that was plumped in three-dimensional relief by it. He grazed her nipple with his fingertips, ignoring her Victorian morals, and it sprang toward him. He grasped and kneaded it between his thumb and forefinger and this time her gasp was loud enough to break him from the spell his desire had upon him.
     “Mandy,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, “this is getting dangerous.”
     “Shh.” She pressed a fingertip to his lips. “It’s getting wonderful. Before I go back, I think I want to know something about this ‘passion’ thing.”
     As the unspoken words just in case hung over them like melting icicles, their eyes locked together. With them Jesse and Amanda told one another all that needed to be heard and sought all that needed to be found.
     She reached back and quickly located the mute button on the remote.



I hope you enjoyed this morsel. If you would like to read more you can get your copy HERE at Amazon Kindle. And remember, you don't need a Kindle e-reader to enjoy Kindle books! You can download Amazon's free Kindle reader app for your tablet or mobile device right HERE!

Until next time!
Love,
Maggie

Monday, March 24, 2014

MY PACE OR YOURS? GREAT REVIEWS!

Hello everyone!

I was so happy to receive this review from Book Viral:

Type - A workaholic Beth Turner sure has her hands full: An eighty-hours-a-week real estate career ... "The Yesteryear," an unfinished inn left to her by her dad ... a loan-shark waiting to snatch away the extremely valuable property if Beth misses the almost impossible completion deadline ... and now: Sean Campbell. Brilliant. Charming. A carpenter of legendary renown, he has no trouble convincing Beth that he's the man for the job ... except for the irritating fact that he is quite possibly the slowest-moving human on the face of the earth. Now add in some sultry summer heat, lust, and romance to mess things up and slow things down. Top it all off with a string of sabotage, courtesy of the murderous loan-shark, for which Beth blames Sean, and there goes the romance. And, barring miracles, there goes The Yesteryear.

Romance, mystery and more than a little menace make for a heady concoction in My Pace Or Yours, the fabulous debut novel from author Maggie Maloney. One of those delightfully unpretentious tales that proffers a tantalizing maelstrom of frenetic fiction, Maloney strikes an affable balance between suspense, tension and levity with a host of disparate characters that are altogether engaging. Her plot is well considered and confidently woven, rarely lingering in the detail, but when it does Maloney brings an emotive resonance to her tale that is both uncommon and beguiling. Yes, her novel might fundamentally be labelled ‘chick lit’ but that would be a tad disingenuous, for her style of writing certainly begets much wider appeal.  

A confident and undeniably accomplished debut, My Pace Or Yours definitely provides for timely escapism whilst being sure to build an enthusiastic following for author Maggie Maloney. It is strongly recommended.

That one sure made my day! And I am grateful as well to the thousands who have read MY PACE. Your support has been astounding and has more than convinced me that it should, indeed, have a sequel ... or perhaps more than one! I plan to start that project in about a week or so! Stay tuned!

Until next time, 
Maggie

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

SEAN CAMPBELL: CARPENTER EXTRAORDINAIRE (in more ways than one)

It would appear that, out of my two romance novels, Sean Campbell -- hero of MY PACE OR YOURS? -- is the most loved by readers. I love Sean, too, actually, and thought you might like to know him a bit better (whether you've read "MY PACE" yet or not!) ...

According to the story, Sean Campbell hails from the bucolic little town of Windsor, Nova Scotia. After receiving his architectural engineering degree from Dalhousie (in Halifax), he hit the road to begin his life.

And he hit it in a big way. Crisscrossing the North American continent for years on end, following his own whims as well as the calling of the highway as to where to go next. Just wandering ... wandering ... searching ... seeking. He did settle for a time in LA, doing carpentry for TV studios and Hollywood celebrities, all the while perfecting (and I mean perfecting!) his carpentry skills and building up a reputation as a craftsman of legendary renown. (No offense, Sean, but how much y'wanna bet that your looks, charm, and masculinity didn't have at least a wee bit to do with it?)

Finally, for reasons I won't disclose (out of respect for those who've not yet read the tale), he hit the road once again and soon found himself in my own Rhode Island ... ambling right into the heart of heroine Beth Martin.

But ...

Where did Sean Campbell really come from? Was he simply conjured up out of my overactive and decadent imagination? Not really. For that I have to thank a true love of my life ... my Dad, David Maloney.

My father was, like Sean, a carpenter. Perhaps not of the same "legendary renown" as Sean, but every bit as much a hero in my eyes ... and every bit as much a perfectionist. He was a true genius at his craft. As I grew up and matured I came to see that, in the world of carpenters, Dad was weird.

A good kind of weird, thought. Actually, an incredible kind of weird. Like Olympic skaters for whom artistic impression is half the battle, my Dad was ever-concerned with the beauty of the finished product and the happiness it would provide its user ... every bit as much as its technical merits of function and durability.

And it all came so naturally to him! He just had that gift and then polished it with forty-something years of hard-labor while loving every minute (even when he wasn't loving every minute!)

Another one of Sean's traits -- his most outstanding trait -- that arose directly from memories of my Dad is Sean's propensity to take things nice and slow -- in work, in life, everywhere. Some of the things Beth notices very early on are:

  • Sean taking, like, five minutes to swallow a mouthful of coffee (think: wine taster).
  • His habit of moving through life with all the vigor of a "Vermont milkman.
  • How Sean drives warp-speed Beth up a wall by sawing lumber like he's "cutting a diamond."
  • How, in bed, Sean drives Beth over the edge with his very welcome (and rare) ability to stretch a moment into eternity ... (I'm left wondering if there are, in fact, any Vermont milkmen with that particular life-skill!)
Well, the bottom line is that exasperatingly slow or not, Sean is a loving, caring, and devoted man who will do just about anything for the people he cares about. Especially Beth Martin.

And, you know, with his looks, and lean work-hardened build sometimes ... y'know ... you don't want him to move fast anywayt. Just let him ease ... ease ... through his work and life ... ah, nice and slow ... nice and slow ... so you can just drink him in one ... sip ... at a time ... mm, mm, good.

And that's really what Campbell the man is: mm, mm, good.