Friday, November 28, 2014


Okay. I admit it. I am no domestic goddess. Besides not being overly concerned about a dusty shelf or a counter sprinkled with dirty dishes, I cringe as holidays approach, knowing that I owe it to my family to make an effort to decorate for the season. But, no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to conjure my inner June Cleaver (except for soup art at which I excel). So when I walked in the front door the other day after work and discovered that a Christmas Wonderland had exploded in my house (courtesy of my holiday-loving husband)  I was ecstatic at the thought that I wouldn't have to spend my few free hours in the evening trying to find the perfect spot for the fourteen boxes of nutcrackers, Santas, snowmen, and angels we had lugged up from the basement the day before. My evenings could now be devoted to GETTIN' MY BETTE ON! No, I'm not talking about baking. (The only Christmas pumpkin pie smells you'll find here will be coming from the scented candles my husband placed in each room.) My BETTE is a writer, not a pie-maker. My BETTE is an idea-generator, not a cookie decorator. So, I'm writing. Developing story ideas. Searching out the perfect literary agents and publishing houses to query for my TIP TOP CAFE' series.

I'm also curious. How do you get your BETTE (replace my name with yours) on? I'd love to read your comments, which you can leave below (and while you're at it, I'd also love for you to follow my blog.)

Oh, I almost forgot. Here's another snippet from my current manuscript, MOONFLOWER ROAD. Enjoy!
Collin watched as Jeannie turned and rushed out of the kitchen. He was exhausted, but not too tired to notice the gentle sway and roll of her hips as she exited. He felt a familiar tug deep in his groin. Stop it, you fool! A damned woman’s the reason you ended up in Iowa in the first place!  That did it. Thinking about Annette was like throwing water on a fire. Not a pleasant feeling, but it produced the desired effect. He’d be armed and ready with those deflating thoughts and whip them out when the temptation became too great.
The bathroom ended up being a combination bathroom/laundry room. Figuring he could kill two birds with one stone, Collin ran a bath instead of opting for a shower. That way he could run his clothes through the washer while he bathed, which was an absolute necessity since what he wore was the only set of clothes he owned right at the moment. At least he had enough sense to figure that he probably couldn’t attempt a shower and run the washer at the same time without either getting scalded or getting a blast of cold water as the washer moved through its cycles.
Removing wet jeans was harder than Collin realized. After falling over twice, and ramming one knee on the corner of the counter, he finally succeeded by stepping on the bottom of one pant leg and yanking his leg out, then repeating the process with the other leg. Good thing Jeannie wasn’t witnessing this. She would have had a good laugh and never let him forget it. Only after peeling off every stitch of clothing, throwing them into the washer, and deciphering the instructions on how to run the damned thing, did Collin allow himself to slip into the glorious, hot water.  He leaned back and slid under, soaked his hair, then lathered up, and slid under again, running his hands through his hair to get out all the shampoo. Son of a... He looked down at his stinging hands. Blisters, ripped open from the repetitive movement of the scraper, dotted the palm of his right hand.  Sitting behind a desk for the last ten years had softened him up. His skin wasn’t used to this much manual labor. Well, he’d have to grin and bear it. They’d have time to heal up a bit after the bath. Plus, he could just wear gloves tomorrow.
After giving himself a scrubdown, he settled back into the tub and closed his eyes. He’d have time to rest just a bit before he would have to move his clothes from the washer to the dryer...
Collin’s eyes flew open. He was up to his nose in cold water in a bathtub in a strange bathroom. Bam-Bam-Bam! Someone was pounding at the door. Jeannie! He regained his senses, remembering where he was as he hauled himself out of the tub.
“I’m taking a bath!” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
“You’ve been in there for almost two hours, and, might I remind you that this is the only working bathroom in the house?”
Two hours? I must have fallen asleep! Collin ran over to the washer, grabbed his clothes and tossed them into the dryer.
“I need to dry my clothes.”
“Just get dressed and get out of there, unless of course you want me to pee in the bushes.”
Collin held onto the towel with one hand, and opened the door with the other. Jeannie’s jaw dropped as her eyes flashed down to the towel. “Sorry, but the rest of my clothes were stolen out of my saddlebag.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then grabbed the knob of the door and slammed it shut.
“Just wait. Don’t come out.”
Collin could hear her feet pad across the room, up the stairs and across the floor above him. It was quiet for about ten seconds, then the sound returned as she retraced her steps. Within a few seconds, she knocked quietly at the door.
“I have a robe you can borrow until your clothes dry.”
The door inched open and she stuck her hand through the opening. Collin peeked out to see that she had turned her head to the side. Her eyes were pinched shut. He smiled to himself. The naïveté and innocence of these Midwestern girls was so unlike anything he’d encountered in New York. This woman was actually flustered! He took the navy blue terrycloth, and she snatched her hand away.
“Just hurry, will you?”
Jeannie heard a click behind her. Within a few seconds, the door opened. She turned to see Collin standing in front of the door wearing Jason’s robe. It didn’t help. He might as well have been naked. She already knew what he looked like underneath—well, at least from the hips up, and what she had seen a few minutes ago had knocked the breath from her. His tanned torso and rippling abs had been forever etched into her mind, burned onto her retinas, and she could just imagine them under the robe...
“It’s all yours!”
Jeannie blinked, confused as she came out of her brief reverie. “What?”
Collin smiled. “The bathroom. You said you’d prefer the bathroom to the bushes.”
Jeannie’s face shot a blazing red once again. She knew why he was smiling. That smug, son of a bitch was getting a kick out of this…out of watching her ogle him like a star-struck teenager. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and brushed past him, trying to preserve some thread of near non-existent dignity.
“Right. It’s about time.”
Collin turned to face her, but she slammed the door and threw her back against it before he could say a word. She held her breath, waiting to hear retreating footsteps. Instead, she heard a low chuckle.
“You’re welcome.”
Jeannie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment.
 Shit. What have I gotten myself into?

Friday, October 24, 2014

Evernight Teen 99 Cent Specials--WOOT!!

I LOVE it when we have special promotions on Evernight Teen!! So, if you didn't get your e-copy of my novel, PHOENIX: THE RISING, here is your chance to get it for $0.99 (that's 99 pennies, folks!) Let's move it up to that Top Seller position again! :)

Monday, September 15, 2014

Things are heating up on MOONFLOWER ROAD...

And, as promised, once again, here's a final little snippet of MOONFLOWER ROAD, giving you a taste of some sparks that are soon about to fly....Enjoy!!

Jeannie flipped the light off in her room and peeked out her bedroom window just in time to see Collin ascend the steps of the pool in all his naked glory. She gasped and jumped away from the window, pressing her body against the wall. The pounding of her heart amplified against the daisy-patterned wallpaper and she knew at that moment she was going to look again. Dropping to her knees, she inched her way across the floor, and slowly peeked over the window sill. The lights around the pool illuminated Collin’s glistening muscles as he grabbed a towel off a deck chair and wiped his face and arms. She moaned as he wrapped it around his waist. Oh my god, I’ve turned into a peeping Tom!

As if on cue, his head snapped in her direction and she dropped to her stomach. Shit! Did he see me? Blood shot to her cheeks and she scrunched her eyes shut. He saw me! I just know he saw me! Frozen to the spot, she pressed her ear to the floor and waited until she heard the screen door slam before she rose and made her way over to her bed.

            Jeannie pulled her lone bikini bottoms off, then grabbed a camisole out of her dresser drawer and a matching pair of panties and threw them on her bed. She flicked on the small lamp on her nightstand and was immediately faced with the reflection of her naked body in her dressing mirror. I wonder what he thought when he saw me? She let her eyes trail down the length of her body. Did he find me attractive? She allowed herself a brief glance at her breasts. They still looked pretty good. Very good, as a matter of fact.  She thought she saw a smile on Collin’s face as he ogled them. The thought elicited a warm glow in her cheeks. Her eyes dropped lower. She even had a hint of abs. Definitely not a “hard body”, but better than most of her friends from high school. Most of them already had a couple of kids. Of course, they also didn’t have a husband, or, more precisely, ex-husband, doing time in a state penitentiary. She drew her hand across the smooth flatness of her abdomen. Obviously the lack of the effects of motherhood were a good thing…at least that’s what most people would think. Footsteps in the hallway halted the route her mind was taking. She wiped away the lone tear that had mysteriously appeared on her cheek, jumped into her panties, and pulled the camisole over her head just as she heard the knock. He’s knocking at my door. My bedroom door. She wanted to jump in bed and pull the covers over her head, but she knew she couldn’t...


Thursday, September 4, 2014

MOONFLOWER ROAD: Chapter One continued: HER

And now, as promised, it's time to meet the heroine of MOONFLOWER ROAD....

One month.

Hot, foreign tears threatened to spill down Jeannie Butler’s blanched cheeks as she scanned the page, trying to see beyond the bolded date of October 1, beyond the panic-inducing mention of foreclosure that popped up every few sentences. The tears threatened to spill, but she wouldn’t let them. Not this time. She’d had this feeling before. Two years earlier. The day she got the call. What was it that he said to her? I’m in trouble, honey? She cried the day she got that call—furious, crazed tears. Tears of dreams shattered, of love lost. She cried until there was nothing left. No tears, no anger, no love…and she hadn’t cried since. Jeannie squashed the final notice into a tight wad and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall then rebounded back at her, rolling to a quick stop in front of her bare feet.

When she looked back, she had to admit the signs were there even before she walked down the aisle.  Jason liked to spend money on himself, and on her, and it made her giddy with ecstatic disbelief when he did. She’d grown up not knowing if her mom would have enough money to put food on the table since her father drank most of it away, so when Jason took her out to eat on a daily basis, bought her the clothes she’d never been able to afford on a teenage waitress’s pay, it didn’t enter her naïve mind at the time that gambling might be involved. By the end of their third year of marriage, six months after she took a second out on their dream home to finance the downpayment on the café, it was evident by the collection notices arriving on a regular basis that he was draining their savings account, not for paying bills as he claimed, but for some shady reason. Then the call came, and the next thing Jeannie knew, her husband was serving a seven year prison sentence for embezzlement and she was stuck paying off all his debts. He’d stolen almost everything from her, and now the bank was taking the last two things she held dear to her heart: her home and her beloved café.

Jeannie sighed and reached down, snatching the ball at her feet. She unrolled it as best she could and stretched it out, running the wrinkled sheet across her thigh in a lame attempt to iron it out. She folded the single sheet and stuffed it back into its envelope, then tucked the envelope and its contents into the front of the file cabinet beside the fridge, along with all the other letters. But this one was different. There would be no more letters after this. No more warnings. This was it.
            She glanced at the pile of bills on the table, then to the picture of her, her three sisters and her mom at the grand opening which she’d attached with a rooster magnet to the side of the fridge. The original was on the wall at work, of course, in a fancy pewter frame she’d paid too much for. This was just a copy she made on her scanner, but it didn’t matter. Reading the caption still brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. Jeannie Butler, new owner of The Tip Top Café. She felt so proud at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Finally, she had something of her own. Something she could be proud of. A tear escaped. She brushed it away with a flick of her finger. One month. How could she tell them? What she needed was a miracle, because it was going to take a miracle to save the café, let alone her house.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014


Soooo, I've been in a funk lately, especially since I took my last child, my baby, my only daughter, to college on Friday. Yesterday, after about four hours of sitting in my chair not accomplishing anything except watching Netflix and taking a two hour nap, my husband turned off the TV and suggested I find my muse and start writing again. With nothing else to lose since my baby was now gone, I opened up MOONFLOWER ROAD, primed the pump by reading my last chapter, and the writing began. Success! I added another thousand words in just a couple of hours! In honor of this auspicious occasion, over the next week I'll introduce you to both my main characters with my first chapter, then spice it up at the end of my celebration with my most recent scene, which is a little naughty, if I do say so myself!

And now, heeeeeere's Collin!

“Wish me luck, George.”

The moment the leather of his soles hit the cobblestone of 15 Central Park West, Collin Jamison knew there was no turning back. He flicked away the bead of perspiration trickling down his temple then tugged at the knot of his Lorenzo Cana charcoal silk. Her favorite. At least that’s what she said every time he wore the damn thing. Today it felt like a noose around his neck...choking him…taunting him to turn and run while he had a chance. He could broker multi-million dollar deals, bang heads with Trump and his cronies, but this one little deed, the utterance of four simple words, had him sweating like Fat Bastard in a Santa suit.

George closed the door behind him as only George could do. Noiselessly.

“Ain’t no such thing as luck, Mr. Jamison. Either the woman loves you, or she don’t.”

Collin’s hand slipped over the obscenely expensive lump in his jacket pocket for the millionth time that morning, seeking some type of palpable reassurance of the decision he’d made. Pffft.  Of course she loves me. Who wouldn’t? I’m Collin Edward Jamison the III, heir to the largest real estate development firm in New York. Manhattan’s Most Eligible Bachelor...

George raised an eyebrow.

He’s expecting me to say something like that…something cocky and self-absorbed. But George knew as well as he did that Annette Bradshaw, the willowy, raven-haired, thirty-year-old Wall Street attorney, was the love of his life. This time, George would have to settle for the truth instead of a smart-ass answer.

“She loves me.”


Shit. Now what?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? In case she chases you off with her briefcase?” George winked and let loose a throaty James Earl Jones laugh, the kind that seemed to start in his toes before working its way up to his deep baritone vocal cords. Collin couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t plan on needing your services until later in the day, George.” Collin shot him his own wink. “Much later.  Miss Bradshaw and I will have a bit of .... celebrating to do.” He tapped the lump one more time then headed for the door to Annette’s building.


George’s booming voice stopped Collin in his tracks, the same way it did when he was eight years old and George caught him pissing in his mother’s rose bush. Ruined a perfectly good pair of Chuck’s that day. Collin turned, expecting George to give him one last tidbit of unsolicited fatherly advice, or at least a May the Force be with you. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man asked a woman to marry him, and George’s advice was the closest thing he’d be getting to anything fatherly. Instead, George held out a brown paper bag.

“You forgot your bagels ... and I think you’re gonna need your strength, Mr. Jamison. Celebrating takes a lot of energy.” George guffawed at his own joke and shoved the bag at Collin’s chest, but Collin blocked the assault before it crushed the Lorenzo Cana. Her favorite.  Those two words followed on the tail of “Lorenzo Cana” as automatically as the succulent memory of her wearing nothing but that charcoal silk and an I’m gonna make you beg for mercy look in her mahogany eyes the day she gave it to him.  The thought elicited a delicious but inconvenient tug in his groin. At least he didn’t feel like he was choking anymore.

“Thanks, old man.”

“Old? Who you calling old, you little pipsqueak?” George puffed his chest out like a rooster in a henhouse and strutted around the Mercedes to the driver’s door. “I’ve done more celebrating on a daily basis for the last thirty years than you’ll do in the next sixty. As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna head on home and do some celebrating myself, since you won’t be needing my services for the day.” 

Collin chuckled. “You do that, George.”

George slid into the driver’s seat and, for the first time in recorded history, slammed the door of his beloved Mercedes. Holy shit! Seems I ruffled the old man’s feathers.

Collin turned and faced the nineteen story tower as George drove away, took a deep breath to calm his nerves, patted the lump in his pocket one more time, and smiled.

She loves me.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Give the Gift of Education!

Haven't gotten an e-copy of PHOENIX: THE RISING yet? Well, now you can buy a book and give the gift of education! Just click the link below, and make a difference in a young girl's life...

Friday, July 4, 2014

Celebrate the 4th of July!

WHAT??? Did I just say that you can get PHOENIX: THE RISING by YOURS TRULY in an e-format for 25% off this 4th of July weekend? Yes, I did! is offering all titles for 25% off from July 4th through 6th.  Let's move that lovely Eli Sullivan back up into the Top Seller spot!

Thursday, January 23, 2014


That's right!  It's been one year since ET's top seller--Phoenix: The Rising--debuted as the launching title for Evernight Teen, which means both Evernight Teen and Phoenix: The Rising are sharing a birthday! What does that mean? TIME TO CELEBRATE with a BLOG HOP and tons of GREAT PRIZES!!

ET will be raffling off a $100 iTunes gift certificate, taking 25% off all Evernight Teen titles on the ET site from 1/24-1/31, the other authors and reviewers may have their own special prizes, and I'll be giving away TWO $10 Amazon gift cards!

All you have to do to win a chance at one of my $10 Amazon gift cards is A-join my site (just to the right) and B-answer a simple question about the excerpt below. Leave your answer in the comment section along with your email address and I'll contact the winners after February 1!

The excerpt:

“Where in the hell have you been, young man?” 
Eli spun around, nearly dropping the towel he clutched around his waist. Lucy giggled and waved from her spot near the window. “Surprise!”  
“Ah, jeez, Lucy, you about scared the crap out of me! What are you doing in here? Do you know what time it is?” Eli tightened his grip on the towel and marched over to his dresser.
“I was worried. I thought for sure something happened to you.” She strolled over to his bed and sat, crossing one long, smooth leg over the other. “What are you doing out so late, anyways? We do have school in the morning, you know.” One of the straps of her camisole fell off her shoulder, revealing tanned, soft skin and a hint of cleavage.  Lucy didn’t make any attempt to cover up. She knew her body was bangin’, and she wanted to make sure Eli noticed as well. Unfortunately, his eyes landed only momentarily on her legs, barely hesitating on them before he turned and headed towards the closet.
“I’m well aware that we have school tomorrow, and where I was is none of your business.” To Lucy’s delight, Eli’s use of the flimsy closet door as a dressing screen while he changed into a pair of athletic shorts was about as successful as her own attempt to seduce him. Lucy bit her lower lip as brief glimpses of muscular, naked ass made her blood race in her veins once again. It took everything in her to keep from pouncing on him at that moment. Instead, she rolled to her stomach and batted her eyelashes at him as he approached the bed. 
“I bet you went to see a gir-rl,” Lucy sang, but the taunting elicited nothing from Eli but a dark, exasperated stare. Lucy slid off the bed and began circling him with the giddy anticipation of a vulture about to dive-bomb fresh road kill. “Hmmm.” She tapped her chin as she pushed further. “Let me see if I can guess who it was. You went to Homecoming with that girl. What was her name?” She raised an eyebrow and smiled in self-satisfaction at her game-playing skills. “Julie, wasn’t it?” The muscle in his jaw twitched. Bingo! She stopped her circle of attack just inches from his nose. God, he smelled good! “You are a naughty boy, Eli Sullivan. I thought you said you didn’t know where she was?” Lucy tapped him on his nose, yelped, and pulled her finger back as a small burst of electricity passed between her finger and the end of his nose...

And now... the question: What was the name of the girl Eli took to Homecoming?  Post your answer in the comment section below, along with your email, and don't forget to join this site so you are sure to be entered into the drawing! Good luck!

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