For more Wordless Wednesday if you click here.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Teaser Tuesdays - April 30th
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Teaser Tuesdays
If you'd like to play along on Teaser Tuesdays, just click the button above.
Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:
* Grab your current read
* Open to a random page
* Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
* BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
* Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
This week I'm reading...
Magnolia Plantation wasn't really a Southern plantation, the guests milling around the verandas and lush green lawn weren't really extras from Gone With the Wind, and that wasn't Scarlett descending the curved staircase but my auntie KiKi in a green flouncy dress with enough crinolines to cover all of Savannah.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Blog Tour: To Tame a Montana Heart by Dawm Luedecke (Spotlight)
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blog tour
To Tame a Montana Heart
Montana Girl Series, Book One
Montana Girl Series, Book One
Dawn Luedecke
Genre: Western Historical
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
ISBN-10: 1612172016
ISBN-13: 978-1612172019
ASIN: B008MZR7DS
Number of pages: 308
Word Count: 87,193
Cover Artist: Tina Lynn
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/nhBEPCsswTs
Book Description:
Running from a past of privilege, deceit, and danger, Travis Simms is ready to settle down. What better place to forget all he left behind than the quiet little Montana town of Lolo Hot Springs? His goal is clear — build a hotel and his own destiny without complications —until one of the town’s most troublesome women captures his attention.
Dusty Larson is hell bent on independence, helping her sister run the Triple D Ranch. She can do anything a man can, and do it better, so she certainly doesn’t need one in her life. The only problem is she seems to attract bad luck and danger...and Travis. Can he tame her wild ways and keep his bachelor status intact — or does he risk losing his heart?
About the Author:
A country girl born and bred, Dawn Luedecke has spent most of her life surrounded by horses, country folk, and the wild terrain of Nevada, Idaho and Montana. As a child she would spend many afternoons reading books, watching western classics, and Rogers and Hammerstein movies.
When she grew up she decided to leave the quiet country life for a chance to find adventure by serving a successful tour in the United States Coast Guard. During that time she found her soul mate (and alpha male) and started a family and writing career. She enjoys writing historical and paranormal romance and spends as much time as she can working on her current manuscript.
For more information visit www.dawnluedecke.com
Facebook
Twitter @d_luedecke
Goodreads
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/dluedecke
It's Monday! What Are You Reading?
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what are you reading
This meme is hosted by Sheila at Book Journey.
It’s Monday! What Are You Reading is where we share what we read this past week, what we hope to read this week…. and anything in between! This is a great way to plan out your reading week and see what others are currently reading as well… you never know where that next “must read” book will come from!
An okay reading week for me...
I finished reading...
and finished listening to...
I'm currently reading...
and listening to...
Next up...
What was your week like? What are you reading this week?
Sunday, April 28, 2013
The Sunday Post - April 28th
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The Sunday Post
The Sunday Post is a weekly meme hosted by Kimba the Caffeinated Book Reviewer ~ It's a chance to share news~ A post to recap the past week on your blog, showcase books and things we have received and share news about what is coming up on our blog for the week ahead.
This week was a bit better for me. I finished a couple of books and I finally feel like I'm getting back into the reading groove.
Here's what's been happening at Socrates' Book Review Blog this week...
Blog Tours/Spotlights/Reviews/Giveaways
I Hosted
Blog Tours/Hops Coming Up Next Week
I Hosted
Posts This Week
To Tame a Montana Heart by Dawn Luedecke (Spotlight)
Topped Chef by Lucy Burdette (Review, Guest Blog and Giveaway)
Her Master's Kiss by Vivien Sparx (Spotlight)
What was your week like?
Cover Reveal: All My Life by Rucy Ban (Giveaway!)
Labels:
blog tour
About the Book
Seventeen-year-old Kari meets Neil Mars. “Neil as in Armstrong and Mars…as in Bruno.” A boy who beats every vampire, werewolf, highlander fantasy Kari has ever had. But she knows can’t get close to him. Not ever. Because that would mean telling him everything. Coming clean. And Kari can’t bear the idea of changing the way Neil looks at her. Like she’s the only girl in the world. His reverence is something too precious to lose. Perhaps even at the cost of losing him.
But Kari doesn't know why Neil calls her his ‘Angel’ and when she finds out, she realizes what love is all about. Boundless joy, unending longing and a fuckload of heartache.
Excerpts
“I can take care of myself,” I tell him.
His lips twitch in response. “Oh, I’m sure you can, little shrub.”
“You are warned!” I take my voice down a notch and point my ring at him, “I’ll tunnel your leathery knighthood right out of this galaxy!”
Neil suddenly halts in his tracks and pins me down with eyes. “Batman vs. Green Lantern? Batman wins. Every. Single. Time.”
“Ohmygod! So not true. In the…”
He cuts me. “One word…yellow.” I stare at him with my mouth half-open.
“‘Nuff said,” he says smugly and then tugs on my hand.
******
Maybe I’ll forget this feeling someday. Maybe it’ll just be reduced to a memory made up of a flickering gas heater, the salty dew of his skin and the love in his dark, inky eyes. This feeling of pure unadulterated joy. Of reaching a high so potent that your spirit feels like it’s soaring across the universe…and falling from that glorious peak only to find yourself enveloped in someone’s warm caring hands. When you feel like you’ve just died or been born, right at the same time.
It could be that I’ll forget this feeling someday. But I’m sure it won’t be anytime soon. Maybe when I’m a hundred and looking forward to my lunch of mashed bread. Not one single day before.
Full length New Adult Contemporary Romance:
HEA ending.
Check it out at Amazon
About the Author
Rucy Ban was born in 1978 and still continues to thrive. Ever since she first met Francine (the protagonist of her favorite novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn), Rucy fell in love with the written word. Rucy has a B-school degree in Marketing which she now puts to good use teaching lovable rowdy rogues and negotiating with her equally belligerent adolescent. In her previous avatar, she handled corporate communications for companies. At present, Rucy lives in Sao Paulo, travels often, speaks decent, if not quite fluent, Portuguese and really hates talking about herself in third person.
-----------
GOODREADS AUTHOR PAGE
FACEBOOK
TWITTER
BLOG
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Blog Tour: No Way Back by Andrew Gross (Showcase)
Labels:
blog tour
Synopsis:
No Way Back is a thrilling page-turner from Andrew Gross, the New York Times bestselling author of 15 Seconds and The Blue Zone. One woman is framed for a horrific crime, and desperate to prove her innocence.
A chance meeting with a stranger in a hotel ends in a shocking murder. Wendy Gould is an average mom--and the only witness. Nanny Lauritzia Velez knows a shocking secret that could prove to be deadly. Both of their lives in danger, this unlikely pair must work together against a network of dangerous men who want nothing more than to see them dead.
A fast-paced, riveting tale with strong, compelling characters, No Way Back is an edge-of-your-seat read with nonstop action and a complex mystery.
A chance meeting with a stranger in a hotel ends in a shocking murder. Wendy Gould is an average mom--and the only witness. Nanny Lauritzia Velez knows a shocking secret that could prove to be deadly. Both of their lives in danger, this unlikely pair must work together against a network of dangerous men who want nothing more than to see them dead.
A fast-paced, riveting tale with strong, compelling characters, No Way Back is an edge-of-your-seat read with nonstop action and a complex mystery.
Excerpt:
He was handsome.
Not that I was really checking anyone out, or that I even looked at guys in that way anymore—married going on ten years now, and
Neil, my youngest, my stepson actually, just off to college. I glanced away, pretending I hadn’t even noticed him. Especially in a bar by myself, no matter how stylish this one was. But in truth I guess I had.
Noticed him. Just a little. Out of the corner of my eye . . .
Longish black hair and kind of dark, smoky eyes. A white V-neck T-shirt under a stylish blazer. Late thirties maybe, around my age, but seemed younger. I would’ve chalked him up as being just a shade too cool—too cool for my type anyway—if it wasn’t that something about him just seemed, I don’t know . . . natural. He sat down a few seats from me at the bar and ordered a Belvedere on the rocks, never looking my way. His watch was a rose-gold chronometer and looked expensive. When he finally did turn my way, shifting his stool to listen to the jazz pianist, his smile was pleasant, not too forward, just enough to acknowledge that there were three empty seats between us, and seemed to say nothing more than How are you tonight? Actually the guy was pretty damn hot!
Truth was, it had been years since I’d been at a bar by myself at night, other than maybe waiting for a girlfriend to come back from the ladies’ room as part of a gals’ night out. And the only reason I even happened to be here was that I’d been in the city all day at this self-publishing seminar, a day after Dave and I had about the biggest fight of our married lives. Which had started out as nothing, of course, as these things usually did: whether or not you had to salt the steaks so heavily—twice, in fact—before putting them on the grill—he having read about it in Food & Wine magazine or something—which somehow managed to morph into how I felt he was always spoiling the kids, who were from Dave’s first marriage:
Amy, who was in Barcelona on her junior year abroad, and Neil, who had taken his car with him as a freshman up at Bates. Which
was actually all just a kind of code, I now realized, for some issues I had with his ex-wife, Joanie. How I felt she was always belittling me; always putting out there that she was the kids’ mother, even though I’d pretty much raised them since they were in grade school, and how I always felt Dave never fully supported me on this.
“She is their mother!” Dave said, pushing away from the table. “Maybe you should just butt out on this, Wendy. Maybe you just
should.”
Then we both said some things I’m sure we regretted.
The rest of the night we barely exchanged a word—Dave shutting himself in the TV room with a hockey game, and me hiding out
in the bedroom with my book. In the morning he was in his car at the crack of dawn, and I had my seminar in New York. We hadn’t
spoken a word all day, which was rare, so I asked my buddy Pam to meet me for a drink and maybe something to eat, just to talk it all through before heading home.
Home was about the last place I wanted to be right now. And here it was, ten after seven, and Pam was texting me that she
was running twenty min late: the usual kid crisis—meaning Steve, her hedge-fund-honcho husband, still hadn’t left the office as promised, and her nanny was with April at dance practice . . .
And me, at the Hotel Kitano bar, a couple of blocks from Grand Central. Taking in the last, relaxing sips of a Patrón Gold
margarita—another thing I rarely did!—one eye on the TV screen above me, which had a muted baseball game or something on, the other doing its best to avoid the eye of Mr. Cutie at the end of the bar. Maybe not looking my 100 percent, knockout best—I mean,
it was just a self-publishing seminar and all—but still not exactly half-bad in an orange cashmere sweater, a black leather skirt, my Prada boots, and my wavy, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Looking decently toned from the hot-yoga classes I’d been taking, texting back to Pam with a mischievous smile: Better hurry. V. sexy guy @ bar and think he’s abt to make contact. *grin* And giggling inside when she wrote me back: Hands off, hon! Ordered him esp for me!
Then better get your ass here pronto :-) I texted back. “Yanks or Red Sox?” I heard someone say.
“Sorry?” I looked up and it was you know who, who definitely had to be Bradley Cooper’s dreamy first cousin or something. Or at
least that’s what the sudden acceleration in my heart rate was telling me.
“Yanks or Red Sox? I see you’re keeping tabs on the game.”
“Oh. Yanks, of course,” I said, a glance to the screen. “Born and bred. South Shore.”
“Sox.” He shrugged apologetically. “South Boston. Okay, Brookline,” he said with a smile, “if you force it out of me.”
I smiled back. He was pretty cute. “Actually I wasn’t even watching. Just waiting for a friend.” I figured I might as well cut this off now. No point in leading him on.
“No worries.” He smiled politely. Like he’s even interested, right? “Who happens to be twenty minutes late!” I blurted, thinking I might have sounded just a bit harsh a moment ago.
“Well, traffic’s nuts out there tonight. Someone must be in town. Is he coming in from anywhere?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “Park and Sixty-Third!” Then I heard myself add, not sure exactly why, “And it’s a she. Old college friend. Girls’ night out.”
He lifted his drink to me, and his dark eyes smiled gently. “Well, here’s to gridlock, then.”
Mr. Cutie and I shifted around and listened to the pianist. The bar was apparently known for its jazz. It was like the famous lounge at the Carlyle, only in midtown, which was why Pam had chosen it— close to both her place and Grand Central, for me to catch my train. “She’s actually pretty good!” I said, suddenly not minding the thought of Pam stuck in a cab somewhere, at least for a while. Not to mention forgetting my husband, who, for a moment, was a million miles away.
“Donna St. James. She’s one of the best. She used to sing with George Benson and the Marsalis brothers.”
“Oh,” I said. Everyone in the lounge seemed to be clued in to this. “It’s why I stay here when I’m in town. Some of the top names in the business just drop in unannounced. Last time I was here, Sarah Jewel got up and sang.”
“Sarah Jewel?”
“She used to record with Basie back in the day.” He pointed to a stylishly dressed black woman and an older white man at one of the round tables. “That’s Rosie Miller. She used to record with Miles Davis. Maybe she’ll get up later.”
“You’re in the business?” I asked. I mean, he did kind of look the part.
“No. Play a little though. Just for fun. My dad was actually an arranger back in the seventies and eighties. He . . . anyway, I don’t want to bore you with all that,” he said, shrugging and stirring his drink.
I took a sip of mine and caught his gaze. “You’re not boring me at all.”
A couple came in and went to take the two seats that were in between us, so Mr. Cutie picked up his drink and slid deftly around
them, and asked, motioning to the seat next to me, “Do you mind?”
Truth was, I didn’t. I was actually kind of enjoying it. And I did have a rescue plan, if necessary. I checked the time: 7:25. Wherever the hell Pam was!
“So this friend of yours,” he asked with a coy half smile, “is she real or imaginary? Because if she’s imaginary, not to worry. I have several imaginary friends of my own back in Boston. We could set them up.”
“Oh, that would be nice.” I laughed. “But I’m afraid she’s quite real. At least she was this summer. She and her husband were in Spain with me and my . . .”
I was about to say my husband, of course, but something held me back. Though by this time I assumed he had taken note of the ring
on my finger. Still, I couldn’t deny this was fun, sitting there with an attractive man who was paying me a little attention, still reeling from my argument with Dave.
Then he said, “I suspect there’s probably an imaginary husband back at home as well . . .”
“Right now”—I rolled my eyes and replied in a tone that was just a little digging—“I’m kind of wishing he was imaginary!” Then
I shook my head. “That wasn’t nice. Tequila talking. We just had a little row last night. Subject for tonight with friend.”
“Ah. Sorry to hear. Just a newlywed spat, I’m sure,” he said, teasing. This time I was sure he was flirting.
“Yeah, right.” I chortled at the flattery. “Going on ten years.”
“Wow!” His eyes brightened in a way that I could only call admiring. “Well, I hope it’s okay if I say you surely don’t look it! I’m Curtis, by the way.”
I hesitated, thinking maybe I’d let things advance just a bit too far. Though I had to admit I wasn’t exactly minding it. And maybe in a way I was saying to my husband, So see, David, there are consequences to being a big, fat jerk!
“Wendy,” I said back. We shook hands. “But it sure would be nice to know where the hell Pam is. She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” I checked the time on my phone.
“Would it be all right if I order up another of whatever you’re drinking?” He raised his palms defensively. “Purely for the imaginary friend, of course . . .”
“Of course,” I said, playing along. “But no. One more of these and I’ll be up at that piano myself! And trust me, I wasn’t playing with anyone in the eighties . . . Anyway”—I shrugged, deadpan— “she only drinks imaginary vodka.”
Curtis grinned. “I’m acquainted with the bartender. Let me see what I can do.”
My iPhone vibrated. Pam, I was sure, announcing she was pulling up to the hotel now and for me to get a dirty martini going for
her. But instead it read: Wend, I’m so sorry. Just can’t make it tonite. What can I say . . . ? I know u need to talk. Tomorrow work? Tomorrow? Tomorrow didn’t work. I was here. Now. And she was right, I did need to talk. And the last place I wanted to be right now was home. Will call, I wrote back, a little annoyed. I put down the phone. My eyes inevitably fell on Curtis’s. I’d already missed the 7:39.
“Sure, why don’t we do just that?” I nodded about that drink. I’m not sure exactly what made me stay.
Maybe I was still feeling vulnerable from my fight with Dave. Or even a little annoyed at Pam, who had a habit of bagging out when I needed her most. I suppose you could toss in just a bit of undeniable interest in the present company.
Whatever it was, I did.
Knowing Dave was out for the night on business and that it was all just harmless anyway helped as well. And that there was a train every half hour. I could leave anytime I wanted.
We chatted some more, and Curtis said he was a freelance journalist here in town on a story. And I chuckled and told him that I was kind of in the same game too. That I’d actually worked for the Nassau County police in my twenties before going to law school for a year—having signed up after 9/11, after my brother, a NYPD cop himself, was killed—though I was forced to resign after a twelveyear-old boy was killed in a wrongful-death judgment. And that I’d written this novel about my experience, which was actually why I’d been in the city today at a self-publishing conference. That I’d been having a tough time getting it looked at by anyone, and that it likely wasn’t very good anyway.
“Care to read it?” I asked. I tapped the tote bag from my publishing conference. “Been lugging it around all day.”
“I would,” Curtis said, “but I’m afraid it’s not exactly my field.”
“Just joking,” I said. “So what is your field?”
He shrugged. “I’m a bit more into current events.”
I was about to follow up on that when the pianist finished her set. The crowded room gave her a warm round of applause. She got
up and came over to the end of the bar, ordered a Perrier, and to my surprise, when it arrived, lifted it toward Curtis. “All warmed up, sugar.”
Curtis stood up. I looked at him wide-eyed. He shot me a slightly apologetic grin. “I did mention that I played . . .”
“You said a bit, for fun,” I replied.
“Well, you’ll be the judge. Look, I know you have a train to
catch, and I don’t know if you’ll be around when I’m done”—he put
out his hand—“but it was fun to chat with you, if you have to leave.”
“I probably should,” I said, glancing at the time. “It was nice to talk to you as well.”
“And best of luck,” he said, pointing as he backed away, “with that imaginary friend of yours.”
“Right! I’ll be sure to tell her!” I laughed.
He sat down at the piano, and I swiveled around, figuring I’d stick around a couple of minutes to hear how he played. But from the opening chords that rose magically from his fingers, just warming up, it was clear it was me he was playing when he coyly said he only played “a little.”
I was dumbstruck, completely wowed. The guy was a ten! He wasn’t just a dream to look at, and charming too—he played like he was totally at one with the instrument. He had the ease and polish of someone who clearly had been doing this from an early age.
His fingers danced across the keyboard and the sounds rose as if on a cloud, then drifted back to earth as something beautiful. It had been a long time since goose bumps went down my arms over a guy.
Donna St. James leaned over. “You ever hear him before, honey?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“His father arranged a bunch of us back in the day. Sit back. You’re in for a treat.”
I did.
The first thing he played was this sumptuous, bluesy rendition of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” and the handful of
customers who were paying their checks, preparing to leave, started listening. Even the bartender was listening. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Whatever my definition of sexy had been an hour ago, forget it—he was definitely rewriting it for me now.
I didn’t leave.
I just sat there, slowly nursing my margarita, growing more and more intoxicated, but not by the drink. By the time he segued into a sultry version of the Beatles’ “Hey Jude,” it was as if his soul had risen from that keyboard and knotted itself with mine.
Our eyes came together a couple of times, my smile communicating, Okay, so I’m impressed . . . The twinkle in his eye simply saying he was happy I was still there.
By the time he finished up with Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind,” goose bumps were dancing up and down my arms with the
rise and fall of his fingers along the keys. With a couple of margaritas in me—and fifteen years from the last time anyone looked at me quite that way—the little, cautioning voice that only a few minutes back was going, Wendy, this is crazy, you don’t do this kind of thing, had gone completely silent.
And when our eyes seemed to touch after his final note and didn’t separate, not for a while, I knew, sure as I knew my own name, that I was about to do something I could never have imagined when I walked into the place an hour before. Something I’d never, ever done before.
Not that I was really checking anyone out, or that I even looked at guys in that way anymore—married going on ten years now, and
Neil, my youngest, my stepson actually, just off to college. I glanced away, pretending I hadn’t even noticed him. Especially in a bar by myself, no matter how stylish this one was. But in truth I guess I had.
Noticed him. Just a little. Out of the corner of my eye . . .
Longish black hair and kind of dark, smoky eyes. A white V-neck T-shirt under a stylish blazer. Late thirties maybe, around my age, but seemed younger. I would’ve chalked him up as being just a shade too cool—too cool for my type anyway—if it wasn’t that something about him just seemed, I don’t know . . . natural. He sat down a few seats from me at the bar and ordered a Belvedere on the rocks, never looking my way. His watch was a rose-gold chronometer and looked expensive. When he finally did turn my way, shifting his stool to listen to the jazz pianist, his smile was pleasant, not too forward, just enough to acknowledge that there were three empty seats between us, and seemed to say nothing more than How are you tonight? Actually the guy was pretty damn hot!
Truth was, it had been years since I’d been at a bar by myself at night, other than maybe waiting for a girlfriend to come back from the ladies’ room as part of a gals’ night out. And the only reason I even happened to be here was that I’d been in the city all day at this self-publishing seminar, a day after Dave and I had about the biggest fight of our married lives. Which had started out as nothing, of course, as these things usually did: whether or not you had to salt the steaks so heavily—twice, in fact—before putting them on the grill—he having read about it in Food & Wine magazine or something—which somehow managed to morph into how I felt he was always spoiling the kids, who were from Dave’s first marriage:
Amy, who was in Barcelona on her junior year abroad, and Neil, who had taken his car with him as a freshman up at Bates. Which
was actually all just a kind of code, I now realized, for some issues I had with his ex-wife, Joanie. How I felt she was always belittling me; always putting out there that she was the kids’ mother, even though I’d pretty much raised them since they were in grade school, and how I always felt Dave never fully supported me on this.
“She is their mother!” Dave said, pushing away from the table. “Maybe you should just butt out on this, Wendy. Maybe you just
should.”
Then we both said some things I’m sure we regretted.
The rest of the night we barely exchanged a word—Dave shutting himself in the TV room with a hockey game, and me hiding out
in the bedroom with my book. In the morning he was in his car at the crack of dawn, and I had my seminar in New York. We hadn’t
spoken a word all day, which was rare, so I asked my buddy Pam to meet me for a drink and maybe something to eat, just to talk it all through before heading home.
Home was about the last place I wanted to be right now. And here it was, ten after seven, and Pam was texting me that she
was running twenty min late: the usual kid crisis—meaning Steve, her hedge-fund-honcho husband, still hadn’t left the office as promised, and her nanny was with April at dance practice . . .
And me, at the Hotel Kitano bar, a couple of blocks from Grand Central. Taking in the last, relaxing sips of a Patrón Gold
margarita—another thing I rarely did!—one eye on the TV screen above me, which had a muted baseball game or something on, the other doing its best to avoid the eye of Mr. Cutie at the end of the bar. Maybe not looking my 100 percent, knockout best—I mean,
it was just a self-publishing seminar and all—but still not exactly half-bad in an orange cashmere sweater, a black leather skirt, my Prada boots, and my wavy, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Looking decently toned from the hot-yoga classes I’d been taking, texting back to Pam with a mischievous smile: Better hurry. V. sexy guy @ bar and think he’s abt to make contact. *grin* And giggling inside when she wrote me back: Hands off, hon! Ordered him esp for me!
Then better get your ass here pronto :-) I texted back. “Yanks or Red Sox?” I heard someone say.
“Sorry?” I looked up and it was you know who, who definitely had to be Bradley Cooper’s dreamy first cousin or something. Or at
least that’s what the sudden acceleration in my heart rate was telling me.
“Yanks or Red Sox? I see you’re keeping tabs on the game.”
“Oh. Yanks, of course,” I said, a glance to the screen. “Born and bred. South Shore.”
“Sox.” He shrugged apologetically. “South Boston. Okay, Brookline,” he said with a smile, “if you force it out of me.”
I smiled back. He was pretty cute. “Actually I wasn’t even watching. Just waiting for a friend.” I figured I might as well cut this off now. No point in leading him on.
“No worries.” He smiled politely. Like he’s even interested, right? “Who happens to be twenty minutes late!” I blurted, thinking I might have sounded just a bit harsh a moment ago.
“Well, traffic’s nuts out there tonight. Someone must be in town. Is he coming in from anywhere?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “Park and Sixty-Third!” Then I heard myself add, not sure exactly why, “And it’s a she. Old college friend. Girls’ night out.”
He lifted his drink to me, and his dark eyes smiled gently. “Well, here’s to gridlock, then.”
Mr. Cutie and I shifted around and listened to the pianist. The bar was apparently known for its jazz. It was like the famous lounge at the Carlyle, only in midtown, which was why Pam had chosen it— close to both her place and Grand Central, for me to catch my train. “She’s actually pretty good!” I said, suddenly not minding the thought of Pam stuck in a cab somewhere, at least for a while. Not to mention forgetting my husband, who, for a moment, was a million miles away.
“Donna St. James. She’s one of the best. She used to sing with George Benson and the Marsalis brothers.”
“Oh,” I said. Everyone in the lounge seemed to be clued in to this. “It’s why I stay here when I’m in town. Some of the top names in the business just drop in unannounced. Last time I was here, Sarah Jewel got up and sang.”
“Sarah Jewel?”
“She used to record with Basie back in the day.” He pointed to a stylishly dressed black woman and an older white man at one of the round tables. “That’s Rosie Miller. She used to record with Miles Davis. Maybe she’ll get up later.”
“You’re in the business?” I asked. I mean, he did kind of look the part.
“No. Play a little though. Just for fun. My dad was actually an arranger back in the seventies and eighties. He . . . anyway, I don’t want to bore you with all that,” he said, shrugging and stirring his drink.
I took a sip of mine and caught his gaze. “You’re not boring me at all.”
A couple came in and went to take the two seats that were in between us, so Mr. Cutie picked up his drink and slid deftly around
them, and asked, motioning to the seat next to me, “Do you mind?”
Truth was, I didn’t. I was actually kind of enjoying it. And I did have a rescue plan, if necessary. I checked the time: 7:25. Wherever the hell Pam was!
“So this friend of yours,” he asked with a coy half smile, “is she real or imaginary? Because if she’s imaginary, not to worry. I have several imaginary friends of my own back in Boston. We could set them up.”
“Oh, that would be nice.” I laughed. “But I’m afraid she’s quite real. At least she was this summer. She and her husband were in Spain with me and my . . .”
I was about to say my husband, of course, but something held me back. Though by this time I assumed he had taken note of the ring
on my finger. Still, I couldn’t deny this was fun, sitting there with an attractive man who was paying me a little attention, still reeling from my argument with Dave.
Then he said, “I suspect there’s probably an imaginary husband back at home as well . . .”
“Right now”—I rolled my eyes and replied in a tone that was just a little digging—“I’m kind of wishing he was imaginary!” Then
I shook my head. “That wasn’t nice. Tequila talking. We just had a little row last night. Subject for tonight with friend.”
“Ah. Sorry to hear. Just a newlywed spat, I’m sure,” he said, teasing. This time I was sure he was flirting.
“Yeah, right.” I chortled at the flattery. “Going on ten years.”
“Wow!” His eyes brightened in a way that I could only call admiring. “Well, I hope it’s okay if I say you surely don’t look it! I’m Curtis, by the way.”
I hesitated, thinking maybe I’d let things advance just a bit too far. Though I had to admit I wasn’t exactly minding it. And maybe in a way I was saying to my husband, So see, David, there are consequences to being a big, fat jerk!
“Wendy,” I said back. We shook hands. “But it sure would be nice to know where the hell Pam is. She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” I checked the time on my phone.
“Would it be all right if I order up another of whatever you’re drinking?” He raised his palms defensively. “Purely for the imaginary friend, of course . . .”
“Of course,” I said, playing along. “But no. One more of these and I’ll be up at that piano myself! And trust me, I wasn’t playing with anyone in the eighties . . . Anyway”—I shrugged, deadpan— “she only drinks imaginary vodka.”
Curtis grinned. “I’m acquainted with the bartender. Let me see what I can do.”
My iPhone vibrated. Pam, I was sure, announcing she was pulling up to the hotel now and for me to get a dirty martini going for
her. But instead it read: Wend, I’m so sorry. Just can’t make it tonite. What can I say . . . ? I know u need to talk. Tomorrow work? Tomorrow? Tomorrow didn’t work. I was here. Now. And she was right, I did need to talk. And the last place I wanted to be right now was home. Will call, I wrote back, a little annoyed. I put down the phone. My eyes inevitably fell on Curtis’s. I’d already missed the 7:39.
“Sure, why don’t we do just that?” I nodded about that drink. I’m not sure exactly what made me stay.
Maybe I was still feeling vulnerable from my fight with Dave. Or even a little annoyed at Pam, who had a habit of bagging out when I needed her most. I suppose you could toss in just a bit of undeniable interest in the present company.
Whatever it was, I did.
Knowing Dave was out for the night on business and that it was all just harmless anyway helped as well. And that there was a train every half hour. I could leave anytime I wanted.
We chatted some more, and Curtis said he was a freelance journalist here in town on a story. And I chuckled and told him that I was kind of in the same game too. That I’d actually worked for the Nassau County police in my twenties before going to law school for a year—having signed up after 9/11, after my brother, a NYPD cop himself, was killed—though I was forced to resign after a twelveyear-old boy was killed in a wrongful-death judgment. And that I’d written this novel about my experience, which was actually why I’d been in the city today at a self-publishing conference. That I’d been having a tough time getting it looked at by anyone, and that it likely wasn’t very good anyway.
“Care to read it?” I asked. I tapped the tote bag from my publishing conference. “Been lugging it around all day.”
“I would,” Curtis said, “but I’m afraid it’s not exactly my field.”
“Just joking,” I said. “So what is your field?”
He shrugged. “I’m a bit more into current events.”
I was about to follow up on that when the pianist finished her set. The crowded room gave her a warm round of applause. She got
up and came over to the end of the bar, ordered a Perrier, and to my surprise, when it arrived, lifted it toward Curtis. “All warmed up, sugar.”
Curtis stood up. I looked at him wide-eyed. He shot me a slightly apologetic grin. “I did mention that I played . . .”
“You said a bit, for fun,” I replied.
“Well, you’ll be the judge. Look, I know you have a train to
catch, and I don’t know if you’ll be around when I’m done”—he put
out his hand—“but it was fun to chat with you, if you have to leave.”
“I probably should,” I said, glancing at the time. “It was nice to talk to you as well.”
“And best of luck,” he said, pointing as he backed away, “with that imaginary friend of yours.”
“Right! I’ll be sure to tell her!” I laughed.
He sat down at the piano, and I swiveled around, figuring I’d stick around a couple of minutes to hear how he played. But from the opening chords that rose magically from his fingers, just warming up, it was clear it was me he was playing when he coyly said he only played “a little.”
I was dumbstruck, completely wowed. The guy was a ten! He wasn’t just a dream to look at, and charming too—he played like he was totally at one with the instrument. He had the ease and polish of someone who clearly had been doing this from an early age.
His fingers danced across the keyboard and the sounds rose as if on a cloud, then drifted back to earth as something beautiful. It had been a long time since goose bumps went down my arms over a guy.
Donna St. James leaned over. “You ever hear him before, honey?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“His father arranged a bunch of us back in the day. Sit back. You’re in for a treat.”
I did.
The first thing he played was this sumptuous, bluesy rendition of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” and the handful of
customers who were paying their checks, preparing to leave, started listening. Even the bartender was listening. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Whatever my definition of sexy had been an hour ago, forget it—he was definitely rewriting it for me now.
I didn’t leave.
I just sat there, slowly nursing my margarita, growing more and more intoxicated, but not by the drink. By the time he segued into a sultry version of the Beatles’ “Hey Jude,” it was as if his soul had risen from that keyboard and knotted itself with mine.
Our eyes came together a couple of times, my smile communicating, Okay, so I’m impressed . . . The twinkle in his eye simply saying he was happy I was still there.
By the time he finished up with Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind,” goose bumps were dancing up and down my arms with the
rise and fall of his fingers along the keys. With a couple of margaritas in me—and fifteen years from the last time anyone looked at me quite that way—the little, cautioning voice that only a few minutes back was going, Wendy, this is crazy, you don’t do this kind of thing, had gone completely silent.
And when our eyes seemed to touch after his final note and didn’t separate, not for a while, I knew, sure as I knew my own name, that I was about to do something I could never have imagined when I walked into the place an hour before. Something I’d never, ever done before.
Tour Stops
Don't forget to visit because many of these stop have a book to give away!Author Bio:
Andrew Gross is the author of the New York Times and international bestsellers 15SECONDS, EYES WIDE OPEN,THE BLUE ZONE, THE DARK TIDE, DON'T LOOK TWICE, and RECKLESS. He is also coauthor of five number one bestsellers with James Patterson, including JUDGE & JURYand LIFEGUARD. His books have been translated into more than twenty-five languages. He lives in Westchester County, New York, with his wife, Lynn.Websites & Links: 
Thank you to Andrew Gross, Harper Collins and Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for generously offering this book to me for review.If you'd like to join in on an upcoming tour just stop by their sites and sign up today!
Friday, April 26, 2013
Blog Tour: Tickling Daphne H. by Veronica Frances (Spotlight and Guest Blog)
Labels:
blog tour
About the Book
Tickling Daphne H. follows
the ticklish journeys of Daphne, Dave, Carol and Harold, exploring how tickling
deeply affects the lives of these four people.
The story deals with the many
different faces of tickling; the addictive and
torturous, the pleasurable and erotic and the humorous and romantic.
This is the very unusual love story
of Daphne and Dave, two people facing their tickle-demons together. It is
primarily the journey of Daphne, a 21-year-old very ticklish woman. Daphne finds
herself in a world where every important person in her life has a tickling
fetish, including her boyfriend Dave. She finds herself constantly surrounded
by feathers and wiggling fingers, unable to
escape the taunting sounds of her own laughter. She is also unable to escape
her own mixed-up feelings about tickling.
As Daphne’s relationship with Dave
grows, she must learn to face her fears and deeper feelings about tickling, for
the sake of their relationship and herself.
AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | ITUNES
About the Author
Veronica
Frances is the pseudonym for a creative writer, residing in New York City. She has had a love of
tickling for her entire life. She enjoys singing and writing songs. She also
writes non-fiction and poetry.
Her latest book is Tickling Daphne H.
WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | GOODREADS | TWITTER
Guest Blog
Is There More To Tickling Daphne H.
Than Meets The Eye?
By Veronica Frances
At first blush, some people might come to the conclusion that Tickling Daphne H. is a lighthearted, fun romance. The cover perhaps gives that impression. But isn’t it true what they say, that you can’t judge a book by its cover? Is there more to Tickling Daphne H.than meets the eye?
Tickling Daphne H.is indeed a love story and it does have some very fun and romantic moments. However, lighthearted would not be the word I would use to describe it.
One reader recently commented that she expected Tickling Daphne H. to be primarily a light, chick lit kind of a novel, based on the fact that the book’s subject matter is tickling. Instead of finding a lighthearted ticklish tale, she found characters behaving in ways that didn’t seem typical, definitely not fitting your every day romance novel.
Tickling has many faces and comes in many flavors. It can be romantic and fun.But it can also be incredibly hot, naughty, and fraught with BDSM, as is the case with Tickling Daphne H.
I am not one to write light, fluffy stories. I am all about creating heated situations, intense challenging characters and breaking the mold. What is socially acceptable in real life does not matter in fiction, at least not to me. It is all about unusual people, living on the edge of their fervent, steamy lives.
Daphne is an intense and feisty character. Is it any wonder why it is so much fun to tickle her? Some people have asked me why I made her so bratty and difficult and I tell them this;if she were a bland, agreeable character, there would be no story. I feel that in fiction, the more challenges the characters face, the more there is to write about. I feel that to be especially true if the challenges that the characters face are on an emotional level.
Daphne and Dave are two very complex characters. There is much more to discover about them as time goes onand as they both get closer and closer to each other, and the truth about their tickling obsessions.
People want to know what to expect as they enter the mysterious realms of Daphne’s ticklish life. As the author of Tickling Daphne H., I can honestly say that the characters continuously surprised me. Even I did not always know from moment to moment what directions the characters and plot would take.
I can tell you this much. Expect to be taken into a world where laughter and erotica are intertwined and where the characters are caught between their tickling desires and common sense. Daphne’s life is but a feather, yet it is not a light journey. It is an intense journey, where boundaries are few and desires are plentiful.
You may be wondering what kind of emotions this thick, intense tickling novel might evoke in you. You might wonder, is tickling really the gateway to sex? Is it really
Thursday, April 25, 2013
The Friday 56
Labels:
the friday 56
This is a fun meme to do hosted by Freda's Voice. If you'd like to join on the fun go to The Friday 56.
Rules:
*Grab a book, any book.
*Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader.
*Find any sentence that grabs you.
*Post it.
*Link it here.
It's that simple.
I'm reading...
From page 56....
"I'm puzzled," said Chef Adam. "You chose to present an Italian dish and yet your background appears to be in Mexican food. Explain."
Follow Friday Four Fill In Fun Blog Hop - Week 109
Labels:
blog hops
This is a fun meme and it's hosted by Hilary at Feeling Beachie. Check out her lovely blog, if you'd like to participate.
This week’s statements:
This week’s statements:
1. The color red reminds me of love (How corny is that?)
2. Lately all I've been thinking about is retiring so I can have a relaxing life.
3. Does the sound of breaking glass make you cringe?
4. When I wander into a bookstore I want to buy everything on my wishlist.
Blog Tour: More Than Friends by Jessica Jayne
More Than Friends
Jessica Jayne
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Publisher: Cobblestone Press, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-60088-800-7
ASIN: B00AQKM5LG
Number of pages: 45
Word Count: 14,000
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Book Description:
Jeni Acerna’s longstanding sexual relationship with her best friend, Brian Hamilton, is both blissful and troublesome. She’s been unable to commit herself to another relationship because no one compares to Brian in or out of bed.
Prior to attending a friend’s wedding together, they place a wager…the first to beg for sex owes the other $500. After a tortuous night, their passion erupts and their sexual relationship picks up where it left off…hot and heavy. However, this time, Brian wants Jeni… and not just in his bed. Can he convince her the risk is worth taking?
Prior to attending a friend’s wedding together, they place a wager…the first to beg for sex owes the other $500. After a tortuous night, their passion erupts and their sexual relationship picks up where it left off…hot and heavy. However, this time, Brian wants Jeni… and not just in his bed. Can he convince her the risk is worth taking?
My Review
This is a short "friends with benefits" story. It has romance, sex and friendship all rolled up into one story. It's definitely fast-paced and can be read in one sitting. In fact, it can be read in an hour - it's only 14,000 words. The romance and sex scenes scorch each page and is more than just steamy. They practically sizzle! I loved the characters, but my one complaint is that it's not longer. I found myself wanting more. I wanted to know more about the characters. It wasn't enough for me, but what little there was - was oh so good! It's a hot read for an afternoon of fun.
FTC Disclosure: The author provided me with a copy of this book to review for this blog tour. This did not influence my thoughts and opinions in any way. All opinions expressed are my own.
I am a born and raised small town Ohio girl, who moved to the Sunshine State after graduating from college. I graduated with a bachelor's degree in English because I could not imagine doing anything else but reading and writing. It is such a pleasure to be able to share all the stories in my head!
In the journey of life, I also became a wife and a mother of three children. So, life is always an adventure. But the love of writing has never died.
My favorites: I love to read and write... obviously! But I also enjoy all sports, especially college football and the Ohio State Buckeyes! Go Steelers! Go Rays! I LOVE to travel... LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to travel. And I love sharing my love to travel with my children. I love to drink Teavana teas! I love a good glass of wine, especially if it comes from a bottle made by the FOOLS wine club… yep, I’m a member of that! J I love hanging out with my family and my friends! Big fan of music, but love nothing better than putting on my jean shorts, tank top, cowboy boots and hat and watching Tim McGraw belt it out! I’m a sucker for a cowboy hat! J
In the journey of life, I also became a wife and a mother of three children. So, life is always an adventure. But the love of writing has never died.
My favorites: I love to read and write... obviously! But I also enjoy all sports, especially college football and the Ohio State Buckeyes! Go Steelers! Go Rays! I LOVE to travel... LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to travel. And I love sharing my love to travel with my children. I love to drink Teavana teas! I love a good glass of wine, especially if it comes from a bottle made by the FOOLS wine club… yep, I’m a member of that! J I love hanging out with my family and my friends! Big fan of music, but love nothing better than putting on my jean shorts, tank top, cowboy boots and hat and watching Tim McGraw belt it out! I’m a sucker for a cowboy hat! J
Favorite quote: “If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies.”
Booking Through Thursday - Sports
Labels:
booking through Thursday
If you'd like to join in on Booking Through Thursday, just click the button above.
This week's question...
1. Do you read books about sports?
2. How about AT sporting events? (Kid’s soccer practice?)
My answer...
I love baseball and the Yankees, so I will read books about them, if they interest me. I do love reading sports romances - I prefer baseball romances, but I will read other sports too - football, hockey, basketball, etc. I'm familiar with all those sports even if they aren't favorites of mine.
As for reading at sporting events, the only time I go to sporting events is to see a Yankee game and I get too caught up in the game to even want to try and read. I don't have children so going to kid's sports practices aren't an issue for me. I probably wouldn't read there anyway because there would be too many distractions.
Cat Thursday - April 25th
Labels:
cat thursday
Welcome to the weekly meme that celebrates the wonders and sometime hilarity of cats! Join us by posting a favorite LOL cat pic you may have come across, famous cat art or even share with us pics of your own beloved cat(s). It's all for the love of cats! Enjoy! This fun meme is hosted by The True Book Addict. Go over to her site to join in the fun.
From: LOL Cats
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
A Killer Read by Erika Chase (Giveaway and Interview!)
Genre:
Cozy Mystery
Format:
Paperback
Publisher:
Berkley Prime Crime Mystery
Release Date:
April 2012
Teacher Lizzie Turner loves her mystery books and is very excited for the first meeting of the Ashton Corners Mystery Readers and Cheese Straws Society. The meeting is held in her friend Molly Matthew’s mansion. Suddenly real life becomes more intriguing than the group’s fiction read when a stranger wanders into Molly’s home and winds up dead. The murder weapon turns out to be part of Molly’s antique gun collection.
When the reading group members become the prime suspects, Lizzie is determined to prove they had nothing to do with the death. She mysteriously begins to receive chapters from a manuscript and wonders if they are connected to the murder.
Added to the mystery is a bit of romance. Lizzie had a high school crush on the local police chief and the feelings surface again. If she’d only stay out of his investigation, their relationship would be perfect, but Lizzie has no intentions of letting that happen.
This is the first book in a new cozy series. Of course this book has been in my review pile for a year, so I guess it’s not all that new since there is already a second book released and a new one coming out soon. I’m just sorry it took so long for me to read.
Setting a mystery to the backdrop of a reading group is perfect for me. It gives us a small group of characters – each with their own personalities and quirkiness. I know I will enjoy re-visiting with these people in future books. My only complaint was that there are two beautiful cats on the cover but they didn’t have enough to do in the book. You know me and cats. LOL The cats have great names though – Edam and Brie.
Each chapter begins with a quote from other mystery stories. I thought that was a nice addition. The story moved at a nice pace and I tried so hard to figure out whodunit and I came to all the wrong conclusions. That’s a good thing! I like being surprised.
This series is off to a wonderful start. Looking forward to the next one.
FTC Disclosure: The publisher provided me with a copy of this book to review. This did not influence my thoughts and opinions in any way. All opinions expressed are my own.
For reading challenges:
A-Z Reading Challenge 2013
2013 ARC Reading Challenge
Where are you reading? challenge (Alabama)
Cruisin’ thru the Cozies
What An Animal Reading Challenge
Interview With Author Erika Chase
Socrates’ Book Review Blog and Socrates’ Cozy Café would like to welcome author Erika Chase to our little corner of the world. Erika is the author of An Ashton Corners Book Club Mystery series. Her first book is “A Killer Read” which I recently had the pleasure of reading and reviewing.
Let the questions begin…
- Who is the greatest influence in your writing career?
My good friend Mary Jane Maffini, who is role model of good writing and promotional skills, plus being very supportive. Also, my critiquing group, The Ladies Killing Circle – we’ve been through a lot in the 20+ years we’ve been together and we’ve all grown in our writing skills. But, way back at the start of it, my eighth grade English teacher, Mr. Ross, who thought I could write and gave me good marks for my short stories.
- As a child, did you read mysteries?
I read widely but really enjoyed the Nancy Drew books as well as Trixie Belden. In fact, Trixie was my favorite for a long time and I’ve lately begun buying old copies when I come across them.
- Do you have any favorite authors or books to recommend?
My favorites often change according to what I’m reading or what mood I’m in. I always buy the latest books by Andrea Camilleri and Martin Walker, probably because I’m such an armchair traveler. And, I’m always ready for a book by Mary Jane Maffini. Love her cozies – all of them, especially her new series written as Victoria Abbott.
- Do you outline a book before you begin? In other words, do you know who did it from the beginning or are you as surprised as the readers are?
I used to wing it when writing, trusting the plot to unfold as the characters did their thing. However, my editor at Berkley Prime Crime likes seeing a synopsis and I’m now in the habit of writing them. I find it works as a road map if I lose my way or make a wrong turn. However, sometimes I continue on that wrong road and it turns out right.
- Do you have any idea how long this series will go? Do you have ideas for future storylines?
Book #3, Cover Story comes out in August and I’m working on the fourth book, Book Fair and Foul for next year. I have a couple of ideas beyond that and hopefully, will be able to use them. Sales are such an important factor is the longevity of a series, so we’ll see.
- What do you think of the current ereader explosion? Do you like ebooks?
I’m amazed at how quickly all new technology bursts onto the scene and takes over. I’m all in favor of whatever helps the reader to do just that. However, I personally am not a big fan. I do take ebooks along when traveling but prefer the traditional paper variety when at home. Besides, they make a great decorative statement.
- How long does it take for you to write a book?
I have a 9-month deadline for each book however, the first draft takes about six months and the remaining time, I’m re-writing and polishing until it’s due.
- How did you feel when your first book was published? What was your first published work?
I have no words to describe the feeling of that first book being published, not a good thing for a writer to admit. I will attempt to though by saying I felt joy, gratitude and pride. A Killer Read is my first novel to be published (but not the first I’ve written -- no more will be said about that :). I’ve also had several short stories published, and was short-listed for an Arthur Ellis Award for Best Short Story from Crime Writers of Canada.
- What kind of environment do you do your actual writing in? Describe the setting for us.
Music plays a large role in my life and I always have it on in the background when writing. It’s usually classical music that can be unobtrusive but sometimes, depending on the scene, I’ll choose a CD with more vigor, like the soundtrack from The Big Easy.
- Have you done book signings? What kind of experience have you had with fans?
I’ve done several book signings and thoroughly enjoy them. It’s such a pleasure to meet readers and talk about mysteries. It’s all been good although there’s always someone who says she or he never reads fiction. Hmmm.
- Can you give us a sneak peek into your future releases?
The third book, Cover Story, immerses the book club sleuths in murder, mayhem and counterfeiting when an old childhood friend of Molly Mathews’s returns to town as a newly-published author. She’s a colorful lady and comes with a few skeletons in the closet. And as we all know, that door never stays shut.
Book Fair and Foul, the following book, takes a peak at the lives of authors attending book fairs and festivals. Of course, there’s a murder and of course, the book club gets involved, especially after one of their own becomes the prime suspect.
Thank you so much, Erika, for taking the time to visit with us.
BOOK GIVEAWAY !!!!
Now you can win a copy of this book for your very own. Thanks to Berkley Publishing, I can a paperback copy of A Killer Read to one lucky winner.
Just a few simple rules...
1) You must fill out the form below (including a valid email address).
2) US residents only.
2) For an extra entry: Follow this blog
3) For an extra entry: Follow me on Twitter
4) For an extra entry: Follow me on Goodreads
5) For an extra 2 entries: Post this giveaway on your blog.
6) For an extra 2 entries: Tweet about this giveaway.
The giveaway begins on April 24th (midnight est) and ends on May 1st (midnight est).
The winner will be notified by email and has 48 hours to respond, otherwise a new winner will be chosen.
Good luck!
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