Monday, December 30, 2013


Things that made 2013 memorable, in no particular order.

1.  All the emails, texts, messages, and posts that I received congratulating me on Present Perfect.

2.  When I was told by another author that my book was the talk at the Naughty Mafia event in Vegas.

3.  The passion, kindness, humor, and thoughtfulness of my readers.

4.  Readers telling me they loved Tweet, they hated Tweet, they wanted to strangle Tweet, but they cried for Tweet.

5. All the Noah love.

6. My mom loving the book.

7. The incredible community of bloggers who supported me.

8. The amazing group of beta readers I have.

9. I got a fantastic agent in Amy Tannenbaum.

10. Moms telling me that their high school or college age daughters also read the book. Thanking me for giving them something to bond over.

11. My 18-year-old niece loving the book.

12. The mother who wrote me, telling me her son had gone through the same thing as Tweet, is happy and in college now.

13. The nursing student who asked my advice on working with patients.

14. My name being in the same sentence as Colleen Hoover,

15. The generosity of readers and bloggers, including Present Perfect on their best of/fav of 2013 lists.

16. Jax Teller and SoA (The list wouldn't be complete without him.)

17. Present Perfect broke into Amazon's top 100.

18. My incredible new contact lenses that not only improved my vision, but my quality of life.

19. Starting my second book.

20. All the lessons that I've learned, personally and career wise.

Thank you everyone for making this year one of the best of my life. Cheers 2013! It was a helluva ride!

I wish health and happiness to you and your family in 2014.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Past Imperfect by Alison G. Bailey

Past Imperfect
Alison G. Bailey
Copyright 2013 Alison G. Bailey
(unedited and subject to change prior to publication)
Chapter 1

The Present

I can’t keep my leg from bopping up and down while I sit here and wait. Every part of my body that has a gland is sweating. I’ve never been  this nervous in my entire life. Standing, I start to pace, alternating between checking my watch and the entrance. She’ll be here any minute. I have everything planned out to perfection tonight.

I’ve rented the private patio at our favorite restaurant in downtown Charleston, the Peninsula Grill. I had them remove all the tables except for the one we will be sitting at. The area is secluded and away from the noisy activity of the restaurant and street. Small white lights snake up and around each palmetto tree that surrounds the area. In the center a table for two is dressed with white linen, crystal champagne flutes, and pristine silverware. In the middle of the table there’s a crystal vase with a dozen orange tiger lilies and some sort of purple flowers. Being a graduate of Clemson University, her favorite colors are orange and purple. Tiger lilies are her favorite flower. I just told the florist orange tiger lilies, purple, and make it look perfect.
         Checking my watch for the five hundredth time in the past ten minutes, I steal another glance towards the entrance. I can feel my breathing speed up and my palms feel as if I have dunked them in water. If she doesn’t get here in the next few seconds, I’m going to be a hyperventilating-sweaty-impeccably dressed mess. Just as I let out a deep breath I hear her soft voice float through the air.

            “Brad,” she says breathlessly with just a hint of surprise in her tone.
             God, I love the way my name sounds coming out of her mouth. Her incredibly talented mouth that’s surrounded by her full pale pink lips. The bottom lip is slightly more plump than the upper one. When she’s concentrating hard on something, her teeth graze across that bottom lip as it’s sucked into her mouth. There is no better sight in this world than Mabry Darnell concentrating. Whenever she is thinking hard, I get hard. I can’t help it. It’s as if her mouth and my dick have this synchronicity. In fact, everything about us feels in synch.

            From the moment she walked into my dad’s law firm, she grabbed my attention. We are both first year lawyers which means we are low on the food chain in the firm. Even though it’s my father’s law firm, dear dad doesn’t believe in playing favorites, especially where I’m concerned. Mabry and I have spent a lot of late nights together preparing for cases. We flirted, got to know each other, and I asked her out. She kept refusing until she could no longer resist the charming masculinity that is Brad Johnson. We’ve kept things casual, but I knew from the second I laid eyes on her, my reaction was different. It was more than lust at first sight. I’ve fallen for this girl and need her in my life.
           I’ve been with a lot of pretty girls, but Mabry is the first beautiful woman for me. When I say beautiful, I don’t just mean on the outside, although, the outside is mouthwatering. Everything about her holds my attention.  She stands about five feet six inches on shapely toned legs that lead up to her perfectly round ass, small waist, and one of the all-time best racks the good Lord has ever created. I’ve seen a lot of racks, so I consider myself an expert.  Her shoulder length chestnut brown hair frames a well-defined, but soft square jawline and when she smiles, smirks, or grins her straight little nose crinkles up in the most adorable way causing my heart to skip a beat every time. Her azure blue eyes pop against the backdrop of her creamy pale skin, and are captivating. The outside is effortlessly beautiful and sexy, but what drew me in and has held me is what’s behind those eyes.

            The times she’s dealing with a colleague or client those eyes match the tone of the meeting, warm and kind, or strong and serious. But, it’s in the quiet times, when she thinks no one is looking that those eyes hold the most truth. There is something intriguing and sad behind them during those unguarded moments.

            “Hey Sweetness,” I say.
             I walk over to her and pull her into my chest. I close my eyes as the smell of vanilla hits me. I pull back slightly and place a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, letting the tip of my tongue skim across the crease quickly. I have to watch myself. Things with Mabry can go from zero to a hundred-eighty in less than five seconds.  Pulling back I stare into her beautiful eyes. I can’t believe I found her. She’s perfect for me. We have been ‘together’ for three months and tonight is the night. I’m going to tell her how much I love her. I don’t know at what point during the night I’m going to say it, I just know I’m ready to say it. I’ve never said those words to anyone before, so I want everything to be special tonight.

            We walk over to the table and I pull the chair out for her. “What’s all this for?” she asks.
            “I just thought it would be nice to do something different, is all.”  I sit down across from her, taking her hand and lacing our fingers together.

            “This is a little more than just ‘different’. It’s not my birthday,” she says as her lips form into a straight line at the same time her head cocks to one side. Then her eyes widen and her mouth goes slack. “Oh god, it’s not your birthday, is it?”
            “Sweetness, if it was my birthday eating dinner with you would be the last thing I’d be doing.”
            Looking up at me through her long dark lashes, she asks in a sultry voice, “What would you be doing?”

            I lean in close so that we are nose-to-nose. “I’d have you spread across my bed tasting you.” I hold her gaze for a moment before I look down and see the huge lump she is swallowing slide down her slender neck.
            “Don’t do that.”

            “Do what?” I smirk.
            “Say stuff like that to me in public. You know what it does to me,” she says shifting in her chair.
            I lean back, happy with myself. I love to tease her and make her squirm. “Then you need to relax and enjoy. Don’t question it.”  My voice now sounds slightly annoyed.
            Mabry is very guarded. She’s less so with me now, but still questions every nice thing I do for her. I hate it and at this point don’t understand why she’s still like that with me. She’s suspicious that ulterior motives are attached. It strikes a nerve with me because I’m not like that anymore. I’m upfront and honest with people. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.

            “Fine. I’m sorry. I appreciate all the trouble you went to. You know you don’t have to do this type of thing for me.”
            “I want to do this type of thing for you.” We hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before hearing her name from across the patio.

            He’s tall, dark, and has douchebag written all over him. As he walks up to our table, Mabry gives me a tight smile and squeezes my hand before pulling hers away.         
           “Hey Ten,” she greets Sir Douche.
           “Hey, I thought it was you sitting out here,” he says.
           “I’m surprised you saw me out here especially with the restaurant being so crowded.”
           “I’d always be able to spot you no matter how many people were in the room,” he replies, staring at her a little too long.

            Who the hell is this guy?
            I clear my throat startling my date.

            “Oh, I’m sorry. Ten this is Brad Johnson, a colleague.” I cringe slightly at the reference.   “Brad this is Ten McGuire,” Mabry introduces.
             We shake hands. “Tin? Like Rin Tin Tin, the dog?” I ask.

            He gives me a smug look, the motherfucker, and answers, “Short for Tennyson. It’s a family name.”
            “Does your family hate you?”

            Mabry gently kicks me under the table causing my gaze to snap in her direction. “Brad!”


            “I’m sorry, Ten. Brad has a weird sense of humor.”

            Is she actually apologizing for me?

            “That’s okay. I get that a lot.” Sir Douche throws another smug look my way before focusing back on Mabry. “You were amazing in court today.” Every muscle in my body starts to tighten.

            I notice a slight blush creep over Mabry’s cheeks. “Thank you, but I didn’t do anything, besides sit there.”

            “The research you did for the case was extremely well done and detailed. Maybe we can get together sometime and discuss your future.”

            Well, fuck me. Fuck you.

            “Maybe,” she says, with a slight nervous laugh, glancing over at me.

            An awkward pause takes over as his eyes roam down, landing on her chest, before shooting back up to meet her eyes. My fists and jaw clench tighter.

            “I should let you two get back to your business. Brad, it was nice to meet you,” he says, never taking his eyes off of her. “Mabry, it’s always great to see you.”

            He takes a step back and Mabry gives him a slight smile just before he exits.

            Turning back to me she looks over with concern written across her face. “I’m sorry about that.” I don’t respond. I’m trying to get my temper under control so I don’t blow the entire place up.  I feel her hand wrap around mine. “Are you okay?”

            “That’s incredible.”

            “What?” she asks.

            “The way Sir Douche can kiss your ass so thoroughly while you’re sitting on it. What was that, Mabry?” I look over at her.

            “A colleague coming over to say hi.”

            “Is that all it is?” My voice is low as I stare into her eyes.

            “To me it is. Are you jealous?” There’s surprise in her voice when she asks the question.

            “Should I be?” My words sound colder than I meant them to.

            “No. I’m not like that.”

            I look deep into her eyes, making sure what she’s saying is true. It is. We’ve never discussed being exclusive, I just assume we are. Of course, we’ve never discussed what this is between us. The leg of my pants rises as her foot travels up and down it. My dick starts to twitch and all thoughts of Sir Douche vanish.



I fumble with my keys, trying to unlock the door to my condo, as I pin Mabry against it. Our tongues take turns darting in and out of each other’s mouths while she’s undoing my belt. I finally get the door open and we stumble into the room, our lips never disconnecting.  I close the door by shoving her up against it. My hips grind into her as my hands move to the back of her neck, my fingers tangling in her hair. Her hands move underneath my jacket and push it over my shoulders, tossing it to the side. She undoes my tie and quickly unbuttons my shirt using the same movement as she did with my jacket. When her hand lightly grazes one of my nipples a bolt of electricity runs through me and I almost come right then. Next, she works the button and zipper of my pants.  Her hand moves inside and she grabs my dick releasing it from my boxers. I feel my knees buckle slightly.

            I pull away in order to take a breath. Staring into her eyes I see desire mixed with the sadness that is always prevalent. I almost tell her I love her, but the words seem to stick in my throat.  Grabbing the hem of her dress, I slide it up as my hands run over her smooth hips and torso. She lifts her arms allowing me to peel the dress off her completely and then it finds a spot on top of my shirt and jacket.  My eyes roam down her body. She’s wearing a black lace push up bra, a pair of black four inch stilettos, and that’s it.

Fuck me, I love this girl.

I plunge my tongue back into its rightful place inside Mabry’s mouth.  My hands glide over her ass as hers move up and down my dick. The only sounds in the room are the moans coming from us and the occasional thud as I push her against the door.

            “Talk to me,” she whispers on my lips. Her tits push against my chest with each heavy breath she takes.  Mabry likes dirty talk and it just so happens that I like to talk dirty.  It’s a win-win.

            I kiss along her jaw until I reach just below her ear.  “I’m going to fuck you, baby.  You want to know how?” I whisper in a raspy voice.

            “Yes,” she moans.

            “I’m going to take my tongue and lick down your body, only stopping to suck on your beautiful tits.” I bring my hand up and pinch one of her hard nipples through the lace causing her back to arch. “I dream about your tits, Mabry,” I continue. “I’m going to lick all the way down to between your legs. Then I’m going to suck you hard just before I fuck you with my tongue.”

            “Inside. Now!” she yells out.

            I slip off my shoes as she slips her hand into my pocket to grab the condom. Holding the foil packet between her teeth, she slides down the door until she’s squatting in front of me, taking my pants and boxers with her. I place my palms flat on the doorframe to brace myself as I step out of my clothes.  Looking down I see Mabry tear the packet, slip the condom out, and on to me, all the while looking up at me through her long dark lashes. She seems to enjoy doing this and who am I to deprive her of any joy.

            She starts slowly sucking and licking her way up my abs and over my chest until she reaches my mouth. Our tongues make another once around in each other’s mouths before my hands shift behind her thighs, lifting her while pressing her against the door at the same time. I can feel the heel of her stilettos pierce my skin as her legs wrap around my waist. The slight jolt of pain turns me on even more than I already am. Her hands find their way into my hair and she holds on tight. Two hard thrusts and I’m buried deep inside her. Everything begins to speed up and intensify, our breathing, my thrusts, and her moans.  She tightens around me in every way and we come together.  We both shiver and cling onto each other like our lives depend on it.

            Still inside her, I carry her to my bedroom and lay her back on the bed.  I begin placing soft kisses across her lips, down her jaw, and to the top of her tits.

            “How is it possible?” I mutter as I continue kissing everywhere my lips can reach.

            “What are you talking about?” she asks as her fingers run through my hair playing with the chunky style.

            Looking up at her I say, “How is it possible that it gets better every time? It was pretty awesome the first time.”

            Tugging on my hair, she pulls me up so we are face-to-face. “I’m trying to up my game. I think you just like my choice of undergarments more and more.”

            “You do have excellent taste in that department. I like what’s under those garments too, and what comes out of your mouth, and what’s behind those eyes.”

            Now is the time to tell Mabry how much I love her. I haven’t looked at, thought about, or wanted to be with another girl since we met. Clearing my throat, I look deep into her eyes and say, “Mabry, the past few months with you have been fantastic. Spending time with you is my favorite part of the day. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing. All that matters is I can look up and see you by my side.”


            “Mabry, I’ve fallen in…”

            “I need to get up,” she interrupts as she shoves on my chest.

            “What? Is anything wrong?” I ask pushing off and out of her.

            Sitting up, she moves away from me and off the bed quickly. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she says as she walks across the room, never looking back at me.

            I watch as the door closes. I get up and remove the condom, tossing it in the trashcan. I grab a pair of pajama pants and slip them on. The door to the bathroom suddenly swings open and Mabry comes rushing out wrapped in a towel.

            Scanning the room she asks, “Where are my clothes?”

            “Excuse me?” I stand in shock with my hands resting on my hips.

            “I need my clothes. I didn’t pay attention to where they ended up.”

            “Why do you need your clothes?”

            “Because, the authorities don’t look kindly on public nudity.” She gives me a slight smirk that disappears in a nanosecond.

            “You’re leaving?” My shock is starting to wear off and I’m getting angry.

            “I have an early day tomorrow. Besides, you know the rules. No overnighters.”

            “What the fuck just happened here?”

            “We had a delicious dinner, an amazing fuck, as usual, and now I have to go,” she says walking out of the bedroom in search of her clothes.

            I find her in the living room shimmying into her dress. I can feel my entire body tense up as I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest staring at her.  “I want to tell you something.”

            She runs her fingers through her hair. “Yeah, well, can’t it wait until morning?”

            “It’s not business related.”

            She stops the nervous gathering of her things. Looking me in the eye she says, “Don’t get all hearts and flowers on me, Brad. You knew what this was when we started.”

            “Yeah, I knew what it was when we started, but somewhere along the way things changed.  I love you, Mabry.”

            Azure blue eyes begin to fill with water, fear, and anger as she steps back. “Fuck you.” Grabbing her purse, she turns on her heels, and is out the door.



I keep moving. I don’t think or breathe until I’m safe and secure in my car. I take several slow deep breaths trying to get control of my anxiety before it swallows me up. I still feel on the verge of hyperventilating. Thank god Brad didn't follow me. I fight to keep the picture out of my head of him standing there looking vulnerable and sad. My throat starts to sting and my eyes burn as I try to hold back my tears. I can’t lose it, not here. I start the car and head home.

            Things were going so well with us. Why did he have to ruin it? The main reason I finally agreed to go out with him was because I knew he had a reputation for being a player and he wouldn’t be looking for anything serious or permanent, which was exactly what I wanted and needed. I couldn’t have anything serious, not with Brad or anyone.  He was supposed to be safe and uncomplicated. What was he thinking telling me that?

            Walking into my condo I’m a bundle of nerves. I was able to calm myself somewhat on the drive home because I had to focus on the road, but now it was too easy for the thoughts to creep in. I have to do something to get my mind off Brad and what he said to me. Passing through the bedroom I kick my shoes off, toss my purse on the bed, and then make my way to the bathroom. I turn the shower on full blast letting the hot water steam up the place while I undress. I focus on every little movement I make, trying to keep my mind occupied. I can’t let the thoughts in. Once they were in I wouldn’t be able to control myself. It would be too hard to make them disappear without taking drastic measures and I’m trying not to do that.

            I step into the shower and immediately flinch when the scalding hot water begins to pelt my skin, but I don’t move away from it. I focus on how the hot beads prick my flesh. It hurts for only a few seconds before my skin gets use to the temperature. I scrub my skin a little more forcefully than usual and do the same with my hair. The roughness helps keep my mind focused. I step out of the shower, dry myself and my hair, and put on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, before crawling into bed. I decide to watch some TV to help distract. I need to stay focused on physical things to keep from disappearing back into my thoughts. I’m reaching for the remote when my phone chirps with a text.

            I try to ignore it, pretend I didn’t hear it, but then it chirps again. I know it’s him. I turn the TV on and try to put the text out of my head. I flip through channel after channel desperately trying to find something to take my mind off the damn text that I know is waiting on my phone. I play this game for at least fifteen minutes before I cave. I grab my phone with shaky hands and swipe the screen.

            Brad: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Please let me know that you’re home safe.

            I stare at the words for a few minutes. Pictures of his sad eyes flood my mind. I toss the phone as if it was on fire onto the bedside table. I try to forget the text. I try to forget the words he said. I try to forget his hurt. I try so hard, but I can’t keep the images and feelings away. I have to do something to stop them from consuming me. I run both hands through my still damp hair. I hesitate. I didn’t want to do this, but I know it’s the only thing that will help me right now. I wasn’t prepared for what he said to me tonight. Hesitantly, I scoot down until the back of my head is in line with the edge of the headboard. My body automatically goes into the ritual of preparing itself for the impact-eyes close, fists clench, heels dig in, all muscles tense. I perform three rapid slams to the back of my head. Relief immediately washes over my body, my mind becomes clear, and my feelings numb.
Add Past Imperfect to your TBR List

Delayed Thanks

I've started this posts three times and then deleted it. Mind you, I only got as far as one or two sentences before hitting the backspace key.

One subject that has always fascinated me is when a person knows they are going to die what runs through their minds right before it happens. Now I know you're thinking two things:

1. What a weird and morbid thing to be fascinated by.
2. Everyone knows they are going to die at some point.

We all have expiration dates stamped on our foreheads, but let's face it, the reality of our death doesn't cross our minds everyday. I mean, do you really think a truck is going to hit you while crossing the street today? It's not until something catastrophic happens that we are forced to think of such things.

My fathered passed away 2 -1/2 years ago after being in the hospital for three months. He was a very smart and sharp witted man. He was a huge football fan. He played football in high school and also in college, at Clemson University. He set college records and was inducted in the Clemson Hall of Fame as well as the South Carolina Athletic Hall of Fame. He officiated high school football from the time I was a little girl, up through my own high school years. I know absolutely nothing about football, but I was so proud of my dad during those two Hall of Fame inductions. Here in Charleston at the beginning of high school football season, we have the Sertoma. it's basically when the local schools get together and scrimmage to kickoff the football season. I always felt so special when going to the Sertoma and seeing by dad out on the field. Like I knew someone on the inside of the action.

My mom, sister and I went to the hospital everyday. We'd stay with Daddy in shifts. My mom and I would go there in the morning and stay until around 5 pm. Then my sister would go after work and spend time with him until visiting hours were over. For three months, seven days a week that was our lives. During those three months I witnessed a strong man who didn't give up, a tired man who wanted to give up, a patient man, a man who adored his family, a man who kept his sharp mind, and sense of humor intact, a man who had to endure the physical pain of an illness, and the emotional pain of the unknown. I sat and watched a couple who had been married for 51 years, sharing good times as well as bad, look to each other for strength. I saw devotion that was unwavering. I saw hope, heartbreak, grace, and strength.

I had seen all of the above at various times throughout my life from my family, but when it's all concentrated for three months, on a daily basis, in one room it makes an indelible impact on you. Daddy had 4 close calls in which we thought he was going to pass away. My mom and I were in the parking garage of the hospital when we got the call that he was having trouble breathing. I looked at her frightened face and reminded her that we had gotten similar calls. We just needed to get to him. It was a 5 minute walk to his room. He passed just before we reached him. I was never as proud of my dad as I was during those three months.

What does this have to do with Thanksgiving 2013? It's taken me this long to be able to look back at that time and feel appreciative and thankful for it. I always knew we were fortunate to have had three months of concentrated time together in a room demonstrating what love and family really meant. But, it's taken me a couple of years to feel it. The mind and the heart are two separate organs. Up until now I would think back on that time and feel all of the hurt and pain. My mom has always told me that you never get over the death of a parent. You get past it, but never over it. She's right. I miss Daddy everyday, but am so thankful that he was in my life and showed me how to leave this world. I often wondered what Daddy was thinking about during those three months. Did he know he wouldn't be coming home? Was he scared? Was he at peace? I never asked because I didn't want to upset him or take away any hope that he had. Knowing him, his final thoughts were on his family. Would we be okay? At first we weren't, of course, but as time has passed we are able to think of his life more than his death.

"Your strength and character grow stronger and deeper as you wait for hope to return."-Present Perfect by Alison G. Bailey

My dad's influence is all throughout Present Perfect, from the Vienna sausage breakfast, to Tweet's humor, to some of the more poignant parts of the book. Thanks to my Dad I gained a new perspective on life and death. I drew on my life with him and his death with me while writing the book. A book that has changed the direction of my life.

Thanks Daddy.  :)

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Momma said there'd be days like this.

Even on a good day, I'm a slow writer. I read posts from other authors about the thousands of words they typed that day and I have to admit, I get a little disappointed in myself. I'm fortunate that I'm able to stay home and write all day if I want. Some of these authors pumping out 4000 words a day are working men and women/dads and moms.

I sit and think a lot about how to phrase things in my books. New ways to describe similar actions. I'm not the dumbest person in the world, but I'm also no genius. I have to admit the thesaurus is a wonderful tool, but even with that you run out of all the actual words that are used in the real word.
I've managed to get more than half way through Past Imperfect without one character contemplating anything or letting out a breath they didn't know they were holding. I'm pretty proud of that.  I want my stories to touch you, inspire you, make you think, deal with subjects that aren't always widely addressed, and hopefully give you a few laughs along the way.

Then there are days like today. When I go back and read what I've written and wonder if I'm repeating the same words over and over. I see the scene in my head, but for some reason the words aren't coming out on to the screen in the order they need to.  Mind you, this happens mostly when I'm writing inner dialogue or describing the setting. If I could write a book completely with dialogue only I would, but then that would be a play, and those are better seen than read.

So, why this post?  I needed to give my brain a break from the scene I've been working on today.  I sometimes keep my TV on, volume down, when I write. When I stop writing because a story about Justin Bieber or Pitbull catches my attention, then I know my head's not in the game. (btw-I can't figure out how I even know who Pitbull is.)

Did anyone watch Sons of Anarchy last night? That was cray cray good. I used to want to be Colleen hoover when I grew up. Now I want to be Colleen Hoover and Kurt Sutter. I could totally see Jax, Will, Holder, Daniel, and Breckin form their own MC, The Sons of Cootters. That doesn't exactly sound tough.

Okay, so I guess I'm done with my rambling for today. I've blogged two whole times this month. I might try to fit in one more before the month is over. MIGHT.

I'll be making an announcement soon regarding Present Perfect. (No, it as not been picked up by a publisher.)

Thanks for reading. Back to  writing!

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Toot! Toot!

I haven't read any reviews of Present Perfect in a while. I look at the number of reviews grow on Amazon, B&N and Goodreads, and I'm so appreciative that folks are still taking time to write them. I was glancing at some today and this one caught my eye. Why? Because anytime my name is mentioned in the same sentence as other amazing authors I get giddy and humbled. So, here's a little shameless self-promo, tooting my own horn, patting myself on the back. Gawd, I'm obnoxious. I'm already tired of myself. I'll probably delete this post...right after y'all read this fantastic review. LOL!
Twice per year Amazon should allow us to rate a book MORE than 5 stars. Sometimes 5 stars just aren't enough and we should get two opportunities each year to rate those mind-blowing books beyond the grid. THIS would be mine.
Reading Present Perfect is something that everyone should do - no joke. If you loved Colleen Hoover's "Hopeless" or JA Redmerski's "The Edge of Never", then delay no longer...you need this book. To put it simply, this was the most emotional book I've read so far this year, quite possibly even ever. I cry at movies, not usually books. I can feel a book deep within my soul, connect to the characters like they're my friends, hurt when they hurt...but usually not cry. This was not the case with Present Perfect. There were not one BUT two occasions in which several tears slipped down my cheeks.
This story takes turns and twists you'll never see coming. Connecting to Noah and "Tweets" character was easy & natural. I'm not sure that I ever wanted love to work more than I did theirs. I silently begged through the entire book that my heart would get what my heart wants.
There are few book boyfriends that you'll love the way you'll love Noah. Perfect is a good way to describe him. From 1% to 99% on my Kindle, he continued to swoon, swoon, swoon me! God almighty, if we could bottle this boy and make some more just like him, ladies we would be bazillionaires. Amanda; aka: "Tweet" will need to grow on you. I will be honest and say I wanted to give her a good ole' open hand `hello' in the face more than once...but I stayed with her - followed her journey and understood a lot of her naivety.
The loyalty that Noah and Amanda have towards each other & the depth of their feelings for one another is pretty much indescribable. When you read it, you WILL feel it - I promise you. This one will stay with me for quite some time and I don't mind at all. Absolutely more than 5 stars!

Thursday, October 24, 2013

"Present Perfect" Halloween Giveaway!!!

I'm having a surprise giveaway just because I love Halloween and it's special to Noah and Tweet!! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

BLOG TOUR! Redemption Red by Delancey Stewart


A culinary student, a troubled ex-marine and a winery with a delectable Pinot Noir…

When Audrey Montgomery’s carefully planned life collides with the self-destructive path Tyson Dawes is on, neither of them can predict what will happen next.

Audrey is a diligent and self-reliant culinary student at Portland’s prestigious Cordon Bleu. She has a clear picture of her future in mind, and it allows little room for the steely-eyed and tormented young man she bumps into by chance while wine tasting with friends.

Tyson Dawes had a perfect childhood, raised among the vines in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. But even the most idyllic of upbringings couldn’t have prepared him for what he would face as a Marine. He returns to his childhood home angry and haunted by the storms of what he has faced and by those he has lost.

Do opposites truly attract? Can the lure of Audrey’s apparent clarity and innocence offer Tyson hope in the face of his emptiness?
Buy “Redemption Red” on Amazon at: http://amzn.to/GR2lYr

Spotify Playlist for RR: Redemption Red


Redemption Red Excerpt

   Tyson slid to the ground with his back to the wall, and looked up at her. His face was chiseled and beautiful, and the fading light illuminated it in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

Audrey re-entered the restaurant quickly, dragging her mind back to what was going on inside.

“Aud,” Ella hissed as she rounded the table, collecting plates. “Chuck took over the kitchen. We need you!”

“I know,” she said. “I just need ten minutes. I’ll be right back.” She dashed to the kitchen and picked up her purse, shooting apologetic glances at Chuck and Ella as she did so. At least Andrew was there that night, his tall dark frame circling the table and keeping the wine flowing along with his cheerful banter.

When she got back outside, Tyson sat exactly where she’d left him, his head starting to tilt to one side.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, leaning down to grab his hand. She pulled, trying to coax him to his feet. Finally, he roused and stood up.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

“My car’s right here,” she told him, opening the door of the Jetta. “Where am I taking you?”

“No, no…” he started to pull away from her.

“Dammit, Tyson. Get in the car.” She was starting to lose patience.

He gave her an amused look then, clearly surprised at her forceful tone. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, folding his tall frame into the passenger seat.

“Shit,” she said under her breath as she walked to the driver side.

“It’s just a couple blocks,” he told her.

They drove in silence, Tyson indicating where she should turn. Portland’s Friday night traffic hummed around them, and it took longer than Audrey would have liked to navigate the few blocks between Fork and the bar. When she found the place, there was nowhere to park. She spent another ten minutes searching for a spot. By then, Tyson was slumped against the door, his breathing even and deep.

Audrey stared at him for a minute after she’d parked, as a streetlight poured in through the windshield. He was beautiful, she thought, his full lips slightly parted, the angular jaw covered with blonde stubble. There was a small thin scar running along his left cheek, she noticed. It was partially hidden in the hair at his jaw. She sighed and turned to look at her own hands in her lap for a minute.

“What am I getting into?” she said under her breath.

She needed to get back to work, and began to feel her responsibilities weighing on her urgently. “Tyson,” she said, hoping he’d snap right back to consciousness, but knowing it was unlikely. “Hey,” she said, reaching a hand out to shake him softly. “Shit.”

She got out of the car and locked it, walking down the block to the bar that Tyson had indicated. It was small and dark inside, and packed with people. She elbowed her way to the bar and waited for the man behind it to give her his attention. He turned finally, catching her gaze. His dark eyes were friendly and warm.

“Hi there,” he called over the music and noise.

“Hey,” she said. “Is Rebecca here?”

He tilted his head slightly. “She’s in the back. I’ll grab her. Who should I say is here?”

“She doesn’t know me,” Audrey said. “I’m kind of a friend of Tyson’s.” She had no idea what else to say.

The man’s face tightened slightly and he turned and disappeared into the back. A minute later he returned, and a woman with a nose ring and tattooed sleeves down each arm returned with him. She had short dark hair tousled wildly on top of her head, and couldn’t have looked less like a relation of Tyson’s if she tried. Until she caught Audrey’s gaze with steely blue eyes.

“I’m Rebecca,” she said, arriving around the other side of the bar.

“I’m Audrey. I, uh, could use a hand. Tyson’s passed out in my car.”

Rebecca didn’t ask any questions, just followed Audrey to her car. With significant effort, the women pulled him to his feet. Once one of his arms was over Rebecca’s shoulder, he began to rouse.

“Thanks for returning him in one piece,” Rebecca said.

Audrey couldn’t tell if there was bitterness in the other woman’s tone.

“He came to me. He was already drunk.” She said.

“I know,” Rebecca sounded tired. “He’s always drunk. One day soon, he’ll be dead.” She said it like a fact, and the beautiful man she was holding up opened his eyes at the comment, looking at Audrey for the briefest of seconds before closing them again. “Thanks,” Rebecca said, and she walked with Tyson back to the bar.

Audrey drove back to work and forced herself to think about anything but Tyson.


Delancey Stewart is the author of the Wine Country Romance Series, featuring A Rare Vintage and Redemption Red. She is also writing the Girlfriends of Gotham series for Swoon Romance. The first book in that series, Men and Martinis, will publish in December 2013.

Stewart has lived on both coasts, in big cities and small towns. She's been a pharmaceutical rep, a personal trainer and a direct sales representative for a French wine importer.

A military spouse and the mother of two small boys, her current job titles include pirate captain, monster hunter, Lego assembler and story reader. She tackles all these efforts at her current home near Washington D.C.

Author links:

GR RR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18133675-redemption-red

***Please Note that all shipped prizes are open to US winners only and an eBook or eBook set can be offered in lieu of for international winners***




3 eCopy sets of “A Rare Vintage” & “Redemption Red” 


2 signed paperback copies of “Redemption Red”


*Oenophilia Wine Glass Puzzle & 1 eCopy of “Redemption Red”


*Wine Wars: A Trivia Game for Wine Geeks and Wannabes & 1 eCopy of “Redemption Red”


*Fashion Women Bubble Bib Bead Statement Party Necklace & 1 eCopy of “Redemption Red”


*Lova Jewelry "Days of Wine and Roses" Reddish-Purple Murano Glass Beaded Stella Fashion Bracelet & 1 eCopy of “Redemption Red”

A Collage photo of the Prizes will be attached.


Redemption Red Blog Tour Schedule and Links for Stops


Oct. 21st Cajun Book Lover
Oct. 22nd The Book Hookers
Oct. 23rd Sweets Books
Oct. 24th Alison G. Bailey
Oct. 24th Aspired Writer
Oct. 25th Shh Moms Reading
Oct. 25th My Daily Romance
Oct. 25th Love N Books