Friday, February 27, 2015

Girl Power! Kick-Butt Female Characters Massive eBook Giveaway

YES! Who doesn't love a good butt-kicking female character! I love that we have some many amazing female characters in literature, movies, TV, and other pop culture venues today. There is always room for strong female role models.

Given I've now seen Frozen 7,000 times, and I generally loathe the movie, I still love the empowering message. In my house, we've seen ALL the Disney princess movies, and I have to admit, they certainly promote "woman seeking man to save her" mentality. Yeah, I don't think we need yet another generation of women programed on that nonsense, thank you very much. Maybe Frozen resonates so loudly simply BECAUSE girls these days don't want or need to be saved by a man. Maybe Frozen is so popular because it reinforces the message mothers are sharing with their daughters: love is not immediate, there are more important things than finding a man, and family love might just be worth more than romantic love. I love that notion, and for that reason alone, I'll watch Frozen 7,001 times with my daughter.

Let's get mom some girl-power too; with over 100 books to win, you can't go wrong!

Thursday, February 26, 2015


In case you haven't jumped on to my newsletter yet, I wanted to let you know that my first "Saturday Morning Quickie" will come out this weekend. What to expect? Some romantic flash fiction (like a mini short story or scene) and recipes that are perfect for the weekends! I love all things food and romance! These pictures will give you just a taste (love the pun?) of what's in store!

Sign up here:

See you Saturday!

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

RBTL Presents Ill Fated by Rachel Rawlings

Title: Ill Fated
Author: Rachel Rawlings
Series: Maurin Kincaide #6
Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy 
Publisher: R Squared Publishing 
Release Date: Feb 11 2015
Edition/Format Available In: eBook & Print 
Some things are destined to end in death. After the first attempt on her life Maurin wasn’t scared. Hell, she was almost flattered. But someone put a price on her head and things are getting complicated. Trouble is brewing in the fae courts and it’s spilling over into Salem. The UnSeelie Dark Guard have answered the call for her head on a platter and people closest to her are disappearing.
Can Maurin master court politics and find her missing men before someone claims the bounty on her head?

  I was born and raised in the Baltimore Metropolitan area but my family is originally from Rhode Island. I spent summers in New England with my grandparents, which probably sparked my fascination with Salem, MA. I started writing fictional stories and poems in middle school. In fact I had notebooks and notebooks full of incomplete stories and poems. One of which I managed to hold on to and is safely stashed in a box under my bed. When I was in seventh grade I entered a poetry contest in the back of an Archie comic and won, after that I was hooked on writing after that. Amazingly it took almost two decades to find a voice for my snarky, ass kicking heroine Maurin Kincaide and complete my first length novel. Meeting the love of your life and raising three amazing children together must have caused a rift in time because I still can't believe it's gone by so quickly. I'm fortunate to have a loving and supportive family who don't mind sharing me with all the other people in my head.

Places to find Rachel

Places to find Ill Fated 

By Rachel Rawlings 
The Maurin Kincaid Series 
Wolfsbane #3 Novella
Mistletoe Meltdown #5 Short Story

Monday, February 23, 2015

Giveaway & Spotlight: Chosen, The Djinn Wars: Book 1 by Christine Pope

Paranormal Romance
Date Published: February 4, 2015

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It began as a fever of unknown origin that its victims dubbed “the Heat,” but as it burned through most of the world’s population, it became known simply as “the Dying.” And for those left behind, the struggle has just begun….

In the aftermath of the Dying, survivor Jessica Monroe is protected and guided by the gentle voice of an invisible being she thinks of as her guardian angel. When she reaches the sanctuary he’s provided for her, however, she realizes that her unseen companion is no angel at all. The destruction of humanity was only the first step in a much larger plan, and now Jessica must struggle to discover her own role in a frightening new world where everything has changed.


Now was the time to say a few words, but nothing seemed to come to mind. I couldn’t even remember the Lord’s Prayer, or more than the first few words of the Twenty-third Psalm.
“The Lord is my shepherd,” I began, then shook my head. What came next? The lines were all jumbled together in my head, nonsense syllables that sounded like something straight out of “Jabberwocky.” And what did it matter, anyway? We weren’t a religious family; we went to Christmas Eve services some years and some years not, maybe Easter. I’d gone to Sunday school when I was really little, but my parents hadn’t even bothered with that when Devin came along.
For the longest time I stood there under the oak, the sun disappearing altogether, deep dusk falling upon the yard. Then I moved, and the motion-sensor light mounted to the side of the garage flashed on.
“I love you all,” I said finally, then set the Waterford vase and the football trophy on top of their grave.

After that, I went back inside and shut the door behind me. It seemed to echo in the unnatural stillness of the house, and I realized it was hardly ever this quiet — someone always had the TV on in the background, or there was music playing, or somebody talking on the phone. Now the quiet pounded against my eardrums, and I realized how big a three-bedroom, two-thousand-square-foot house could feel when you were the only one in it.

The only one in the world….

The thought whispered through my mind, and I did my best to ignore it. Surely if I were immune, and not just having extremely delayed onset for some reason, that meant other people had to be immune, too. How many? I couldn’t begin to guess. I didn’t know the mortality rate of the disease. Even if 99.9% of the population was dead, that would leave around a thousand people still alive in the greater Albuquerque area, if I was doing my mental math correctly.

I turned on the overhead lights in the kitchen, then went through the house, turning on all the lamps. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do — maybe advertising my presence would do more harm than good. But I couldn’t sit there in the dark, not after everything I’d been through that day. Besides, when I peeked out through the curtains, I saw mine wasn’t the only house on the street that was all lit up. Most likely the others just had their lights on because no one was around to turn them off, but it did make mine seem less conspicuous.

“Are you there?” I asked of the darkness. Even a voice that was only a product of my imagination was better than this deep, deep silence, the kind of quiet you should never hear if you lived in a big city.

No reply, of course. My gaze shifted to the remote control, still lying where I’d last dropped it on the coffee table. I didn’t quite dare to turn on the television, not after what I’d seen the last time around. I could only imagine how bad it must be by now.

But there was still the stereo, and all the CDs my parents wouldn’t get rid of, despite Devin and me telling them all that plastic just took up space and that they should just rip all their music off those CDs and then play it through Apple TV or something. And now I had to be grateful for their stubbornness, because that meant I could get up and choose something to blot out the silence. My father liked country, but old country, like Hank Williams and Willie Nelson and Patsy Cline, and my mother preferred classical. That sounded better to me right then, so I found her favorite, Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, and put that on.

It actually was better, with the sound of an orchestra and Vladimir Ashkenazy on the piano overriding that awful stillness. Or at least it was better until I realized that no one would ever play that piece live again, that there would be no more symphony orchestras or Arcade Fire concerts or anything, ever again.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, pushing myself up from the couch and running into the kitchen, where I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in my face. As if that could begin to help. It was all too big to comprehend, so awful and enormous that I could literally feel the horror of it beginning to sink in, like some  noxious chemical seeping into my skin.

And then it was as though strong, invisible arms wrapped around me, bringing with them a soothing warmth. Unseen lips brushed against my hair, and I heard the voice again.

Be strong, my love. Be strong for just a while longer.

Just as suddenly, the presence was gone. I held on to the tile of the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface beneath my fingertips. In that moment, I truly wondered if I’d lost my mind.

What other explanation could there be?

About the Author

A native of Southern California, Christine Pope has been writing stories ever since she commandeered her family’s Smith-Corona typewriter back in the sixth grade. Her short fiction has appeared in Astonishing Adventures, Luna Station Quarterly, and the journal of dark fiction, Dark Valentine. Two of her short stories have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
Christine Pope writes as the mood takes her, and her work includes paranormal romance, fantasy romance, and science fiction/space opera romance. She blames this on being easily distracted by bright, shiny objects, which could also account for the size of her shoe collection. After spending many years in the magazine publishing industry, she now works as a freelance editor and graphic designer in addition to writing fiction. She fell in love with Sedona, Arizona, while researching the Sedona Files series and now makes her home there, surrounded by the red rocks. No alien sightings, though...not yet, anyway!

Author Links

Buy Links


Three ebook copies of Chosen

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Friday, February 20, 2015

Giveaway & Cover Reveal: Murder, Mystery, & Dating Mayhem by D E Haggerty

Humorous Chick Lit with a dash of Murder/Mystery
Date Published: March 1, 2015

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My name is Izzy. I drink too much, am clumsier than a newborn foal, and my brain-to-mouth filter often malfunctions. My daredevil husband killed himself in a parachuting accident five years ago and my best friend Jack has decided it’s time I jump back in the dating pool. He’s perfectly happy to throw me in if I don’t listen. Just when things in the dating world start to heat up, my grandma dies. Only her knitting group of Jessica Fletcher wannabes is sure it’s murder. I’m not convinced but I’m always up for a bit of excitement as long as it doesn’t lead to a night in jail. Well, more than one night anyway. Will I miss my chance at love because I’m chasing imaginary killers? Did someone really kill grandma or am I and my merry band of geriatric thieves imagining things?


The first ‘date’ starts off well. His name is Ed. He’s not drooling or anything, is talking to me and not my boobs, and seems to be interested in my graphic design work. Maybe Jack was right after all. I need to get myself back into the dating game.

“So,” Ed says after we’ve exchanged the usual pleasantries and some small talk. He leans forward and starts to whisper. “How do you feel about whips and chains?”

Not the appropriate moment to be sipping my wine, but how could I have expected that! I choke and spit a bit of wine into Ed’s face, which seems to excite him. He wiggles his eyebrows. “I take it that’s a yes?” He asks eagerly.

“Um no. That’s a definite no. N.O.” I lift my glass and down the remainder of my wine. The bell rings and I yell loudly “Next!”

Ed looks disappointed as he walks to the next table, but I’ve got my eyes on the prize. A cocktail waitress is headed my way. I snag another glass of wine before turning to my next date. Oh dear lord! The man is older than grandma. He struggles to lower himself in the chair opposite mine.

There goes that annoying bell again. Time to put my game face on. I smile and decide that I’ll check this guy out for grandma. She could use a date. Although to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember her going out with a man – ever. There’s no time like the present.

The old man’s name is Wilbert and the five minutes pass pleasantly enough – as long as I pretend he’s dating grandma and not trying to pick me up. When the bell rings again, I rush from my chair to help Wilbert stand. I take his elbow and guide him to his next date – a girl that could be his great granddaughter.

I sit back down and gather my courage for my next winner. I try to smile at the guy across from me, really I do. But have you ever tried to smile at a man with the biggest comb over ever? Let me tell you, it’s not easy. I may be grimacing a tiny bit.

Mr. Combover leans over and leers at me. Yes, leers at me! His eyes are surgically attached to my boobs. True, I have good boobs, but maybe pay a bit of attention to the person attached to the boobs?

Finally done leering, he leans back and takes in my face. “You’re not the youngest anymore.” Really? That’s the first thing Mr. Combover is going to say?

“I could say the same about you,” I respond in my nasty voice. The voice I’d perfected from nagging my lazy butt husband.

Mr. Combover clears his throat and leans in again. I bend backwards as far as possible in my chair, but he’s undeterred. “So, I’m just gonna get this out there and not waste my time.” At this point, I should raise one eyebrow, but, as we’ve established, I can’t do that so I just stare at him. “Do you put out? ‘Cuz if not, I ain’t got time for you.”

Oh no, he didn’t. “What,” I sputter and grab for my wine glass, which I down in one go. Never said I was a classy lady.

“Do. You. Put. Out?” Yes, he really enunciates it like I didn’t understand him the first time.


About the Author

I was born and raised in Wisconsin, but think I’m a European. After spending my senior year of high school in Germany, I developed a bad case of wanderlust that is yet to be cured. My flying Dutch husband and I have lived in Ohio, Virginia, the Netherlands, Germany and now Istanbul. We still haven’t decided if we want to settle down somewhere – let alone where. Although I’ve been a military policewoman, a commercial lawyer, and a B&B owner, I think with writing I may have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. That’s assuming I ever grow up, of course. Between tennis, running, traveling, singing off tune, drinking entirely too many adult beverages, and reading books like they are going out of style, I write articles for a local expat magazine and various websites, review other indie authors’ books, write a blog about whatever comes to mind and am working on my fifth book.

Author Links

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$10 Amazon Gift Card

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Thursday, February 19, 2015

The Dream Catcher Release Day Blitz & Giveaway

The Dream Catcher
Release Date: 02/19/15
300 pages

Summary from Goodreads:

***Paddle boards, bonfires & bikinis won’t help Penny. She craves the boy from the woods; not knowing she’s already caught in his nightmare. ***

Penny’s nightmare is ruling her life and she doesn’t know why. It started a few months ago, and since then Red Bulls, 5-hour Energy Shots, and Starbucks drive-thru are her lifeline.

When Penny’s parents decide to take their research of a rare Native American cult to a remote cabin for the summer, she's less than enthused.

Then Penny meets Delsin in a clearing in the woods, and her view of the world awakens. Apathy defines her, but Delsin lives life to it’s fullest. A shaman-in-training, he is everything Penny is not.

Each morning she comes to the woods, handing pieces of her heart to him, but when Penny is confronted with her worst nightmare, Delsin asks for a sacrifice Penny didn’t see coming.


“Listen, Penny. I know we are different in many ways, but you have this gentleness about you, and I don’t see it in many people. Most of the girls I’ve known are so intense. You are different.”
“So you keep saying.” But I relaxed a bit with his confident words, knowing that he liked me, straight up. “I should probably get back. We’ve been gone for hours.” I thought about Ollie looking for me. I didn’t want him to find me here. I didn’t want to share this place with him. With anyone.
“I know. I don’t want you to get in trouble, on my account.” He stood and took my hand.
He climbed out of the cave quickly, and then gave me his hands to hold, pulling me out easily. His arms were strong and he helped me to my feet. Once again we were on top of the rock, looking out at the woods, breathing in the mid-day air. But Delsin’s eyes were looking above, into the sky, as if searching for something far from his reach, and he raised his hands, too. As if wanting a hand to part from the clouds, to reach out and take him away.
I didn’t stare. I let him have his moment, even though I didn’t understand it. And I looked out, straight ahead, over the trees.
I didn’t know what I was looking for.

Tell us five things about yourself readers wouldn’t know!

1) In The Dream Catcher, Penny gets sucked into several TV series. I have plenty of guilty-pleasure-shows myself. Namely (don’t judge!), The Bachelor. I’ve been watching it for years (with my husband!). We were even in a Fantasy-Bachelor-League last year together, which, just to clarify, was like Fantasy-Football, not the Fantasy-Suite! And he beat me. I KNOW!

2) When I was in Jamaica a few years ago I went to this cliff diving spot where people were doing crazy jumps. I was like, I so got this! One hundred feet? Ain’t no thing! Until I got to the ledge. Then I was like, Umm, I’m going to do the ten foot jump…

In The Dream Catcher Penny and Delsin take cliff and waterfall jumps, and that is seriously impressive. Because, apparently, I’m not that badass.

3) In The Dream Catcher Penny has a reoccurring nightmare that is freaking her out and so she’s trying to stay awake for as long as possible. Obviously she has extenuating circumstances that are keeping her from getting some shut eye, but I love sleep way too much to stay awake that long. I’m an eight or ten hours-a-night kinda girl. And I still need coffee to function.

4) Penny and Ollie are best friends and their relationship is central in The Dream Catcher. Growing up is crazy hard and complicated, but so is just being a person in general. That’s why friends and finding your people is so important. However, I’m a little jealous of the proximity Penny and Ollie live to one another. Like, they live in the same house for most of the novel. My best friend lives across the country so we rely on texts and FaceTime and voice memos to keep in touch. Thank goodness for WiFi!

5) I’ve never made out under a waterfall. In The Dream Catcher Penny and Delsin do, and I’m kinda jealous. It seems terribly romantic. I need to remedy this, stat.

Three Questions:

If you didn't like writing books, what would you do for a living?
Well, I have a pretty crap-tastic employment history. Basically, it’s non-existent. Which I know is probably not the thing parents want their teenagers to hear, but it’s the truth. I got lucky and found the love of my life at nineteen and wanted a family, so I’ve spent my adult life being a stay-at-home mom.

But if I had to go get a legit-job, I’d like to open a coffeehouse. With my best friend. We would name it The Dirty Hippy, and please do not steal that name. Seriously, that would be so mean.

What books are on your nightstand right now?

A copy of Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums (a favorite of mine!), The Boyfriend List by E. Lockhart (that I need to return to a friend), Vivian Apple At The End of The World (from the library), and on my phone (which often finds itself on my nightstand) I am listening to All The Bright Places, and am reading Gabi: A Girl in Pieces on the Kindle app.

What was your inspiration to become an author?

Life is really freaking hard. We all know that. And it’s hard in all sorts of different ways for each of us. For me, the hard stuff started when I was twenty-five. My husband and I decided to grow our family through adoption and I went from being a mom of two toddlers to being a mom of five, overnight.

It was a steep learning curve, and not just figuring out how to enroll my children in school and put restrictions on electronics and how to meal plan for a little tribe. It was also hard because my entire universe kind of exploded.

I was a mess. Maybe some of that had to do with the fact I had another baby soon after, rounding out our family to the nice, still-barely-fit-in-a mini-van, number eight.

But at some point I knew I couldn’t keep pinning my messiness on circumstance. At some point I needed to figure out who I wanted to be, in the midst of the mess. It took writing a lot of really weird stuff for me to begin figuring that out. And honestly, I still am, but I began that slow process of self-discovery with a keyboard and a full-heart and the desire to crawl out of the place I was in. Some people use therapy; I used the gift of story.

Buy Links:

About the Author
Anya Monroe likes to write stories and paint words on her walls. She believes in love at first sight and fights for happily-ever-afters. As a wife and mom to six kids, she carves out time to write between carpool pick-ups and date nights because words are her heartbeat. She lives a ferry ride from Seattle and is a total Pacific Northwesterner who drinks chai lattes and wears Birkenstocks and has dreadlocks. She's a cliché, but doesn't mind it. Not even a little.

She documents her lovely-messy life on IG @anyamonroe. Find her there!

Author Links:
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Monday, February 16, 2015

Book Blitz & Giveaway: Love Bites by Rachel Burke

Love Bites
Release Date: 12/29/15
Harper Impulse
New Adult
225 pages

Summary from Goodreads:
What do you do when you fall in love with your best friend’s boyfriend?

That is the question that twenty-six year-old Justine Sterling has been asking herself ever since the day she met David Whitman, her best friend Renee’s boyfriend. Justine is determined to ignore her growing feelings for the irresistibly charming David, until one night, when she finds herself in the bed of the one person she should stay away from.

When Justine and David’s affair ends in heartbreak, Justine is forced to repair the damaged friendship with her best friend. In doing so, she learns that right and wrong decisions aren’t always black and white, and sometimes you have to follow your heart to see where it leads.

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About the Author
Rachel discovered she wanted to be a writer at the age of ten, when her love of R.L. Stine murder mystery novels inspired her to start writing her own.
In 2008, Rachel combined her love of writing and music and began freelancing for a music column in Worcester Magazine. She also worked as a music journalist for Starpulse News Entertainment and Jamsbio Magazine, as well as a fitness journalist for Prevention Magazine.
Rachel graduated from Bridgewater University in 2011 with a B.A. in Communications and Media Studies.

She currently resides in Santa Monica, CA.


I was the saddest girl to ever hold a martini. A walking Sex and the City episode. Minus the sex.
I wished Renee was here. If she wasn’t home for a funeral, I would’ve called her for a long distance cheer-up, but it wasn’t the most appropriate time. So instead, I resorted to sitting barefoot on the living room floor, still wearing Renee’s gold dress, crying into a martini glass.
Pathetic, really.
I’m not sure what set it off, because I shouldn’t have been this upset. It wasn’t like I’d invested much time or energy into my relationship with Vincent. I think this was just the last straw. The end result of the bad date build-up. I finally thought I’d found someone who was different, and he turned out to be worse than all of them.
At first, it was quite comical. I chuckled to myself in the cab, wondering how long he’d wait at the table, how stupid he’d feel when our waitress realized he’d been ditched. I skipped into my kitchen, made myself a dirty martini, then sat down on my living room floor and drank.
And somewhere around the second martini, the humor faded.
First, I thought about my parents, and the dreaded question that presented itself every time they called. “So, are you seeing anyone special?” It was the first thing they always asked. Well, technically the third, aside from the traditional “How are you?” and “How’s L.A.?” But the first two were just a buffer to get to the third question, the one they really wanted to ask.
Even worse was their discouraged “oh” after I told them no. I could hear the disappointment echoing from three thousand miles away. And forget about family parties. My mom would attempt to cover up my patheticness by telling my nosy relatives that I was “kissing a lot of frogs” when they asked about my dating life.
You can only kiss so many frogs before your parents start to think you’re a lesbian.
The sound at the door made me spill the remains of my drink onto the floor. I knew Vincent had my address, but I didn’t actually think he’d show up here. I was quiet for a minute, hoping he’d go away, but then I watched in horror as the knob turned and the door swung open.
I could have sworn I had locked it behind me when I came in. No, I definitely had. But then how…
I looked up and locked eyes with David. David in all his six-foot-tall gorgeousness, standing above me with a look of bewilderment on his face.

I could only imagine what I looked like.

Author Links:
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Saturday, February 14, 2015

Like Mermaids? Win a $10 Amazon Gift Card from the authors of the Falling in Deep Collection

I'm so excited to be joining the authors of the Falling in Deep collection coming this summer. This collection will feature 15 mermaid novellas! My novella, The Glass Mermaid, was just added to the line-up. It will be a contemporary romance about...the last mermaid. I'm so excited to bring you this story!

Here are some of the other beautiful covers in the collection. Aren't they lovely?

Want to see the other cover AND enter to win $10 Amazon cash? Enter the giveaway!

Now, giveaway time!

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Share the Love Blog Hop & Giveaway!

Let's share the love, Poppet!

We're Sharing the Love this week and surprise bombing bloggers and authors we adore with a little love! Hop by all of the blogs for chances to win great prizes at each stop and find out which authors and bloggers we think are so darn special! 

Thank you, Herding Cats & Burning Soup, for organizing this event!

So... this is my first blog hop! For this hop, I want to share the love with some of the people who have encouraged or inspired me to share my writing with the world. 

My first novella will be out later this spring. Food and love both have a soft place in my heart. I can't wait to show you how I've married the two and for you to meet my characters. From Melissa, my chocolatier, to Julie, my kitchen witch, I feel like I have a noisy cast in my head! Writing love stories fills my heart, so I'm so glad I can share some of my favorite authors, many of whom are my personal friends, others I admire, with you. Go show them all some love, would you?


Keep Hopping:

Release Day! For Sure & Certain by Anya Monroe & Giveaway

For Sure & Certain
Release Date: 02/05/15
390 pages

Summary from Goodreads:
***She knits, cans jam, and lives in the city. He’s an Amish college student, breaking the rules. They're so right, it's wrong.***

Marigold, a recent high school graduate with a shady past, is looking to redefine herself. She doesn’t know what she wants exactly, but college isn’t it.
When she meets Abel, an Amish guy on Rumspringa, his ‘running around’ time, she doesn’t plan on falling for someone wearing a straw hat and suspenders. But she can't help it, Abel is the breath of fresh air she's been waiting for.
Abel, who’s moved to the city for a summer program at Jamestown, never imagined Marigold would be drawn to the life he was trying so hard to avoid. His family expects him to take over the family farm; college parties and dorm life don’t quite fit in with their plans for him.
Opposites attract, but nothing is easy with love. When they trade places for the summer they learn a life together isn’t as for sure and certain as they thought. 
She documents her lovely-messy life on IG @anyamonroe. Find her there!

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“You came,” she said it like it was a relief, like she wondered if he’d really be here. He was.
 “You’re all set then?” he asked. She nodded and slipped in beside him as the driver shut their door. The taxi delivered them to the bus station, and they were quickly settled into their seats for the ride to Lancaster.
“I brought sustenance,” she said pulling out a paper sack from her purse. “My very best peanut butter cookies and a thermos of coffee.”
“You’re so prepared.”
“I bake when I’m nervous,” she admitted biting her lip.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Did you tell them I’m coming at least?”
“The whole no phone thing kind of zeroed out that plan.”
“Right.” Her face fell slightly.
“Don’t worry. Seriously, girls always over think these things.”
“Do you bring a lot of girls home?” she asked as the bus pulled out of the city and onto the highway. They had a two-hour ride ahead of them and Abel wasn’t all too keen on spending it rehashing past relationships.
“Bringing girls home isn’t really an Amish thing, everything is discreet. I only courted one girl, Esther.”
“And when did you guys break up?” Marigold asked. Even though Abel was bright, he hadn’t exactly thought through how all of this would sound.
“Two weeks ago, on my way out of town,” he admitted sheepishly.
“No!” She buried her hands in her face. “So I’m a rebound girl?”
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good.  And you, Marigold, you are good. You are only good.”


Tell us five things about yourself readers wouldn’t know!

1) In For Sure & Certain Marigold is an amazingly skilled artisan. She can knit and sew and quilt, and basically school us all in that arena. I’m pretty envious of her because I’m what you’d call a ghetto-crafter. This means I don’t put up tape before I paint, I don’t measure before I cut, and I guesstimate when it comes to how much Modge-Podge to use.
2) Speaking of Marigold’s talents, she’s a really great baker. I’m pretty handy in the kitchen myself, however, one summer I got a little cocky. My friend Heather and I were really into canning. We were putting up prize-worthy pickles and applesauce and peaches and jam. Like, we picked our own grapes and made jelly. I know.
Then we took it one step further. We decided we should go all in with making our own condiments. Long story short, 72 hours and 30 pounds of tomatoes later we had about ten ounces of really disgusting ketchup. The moral here is, know your limits. And maybe if you make really good pickles, let that be enough.
3) In For Sure & Certain Abel is from what is considered Amish Country in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I visited the area on a high school trip and loved the rich culture. It began a long, unabashed obsession with Amish fiction. I always said I’d write my own version of an Amish love story one day, and now I did!
4) Marigold and Abel met the summer they graduated high school. My husband and I met the summer I graduated, too. As much as people hate on insta-love, I always shake my head at them because I experienced for sure & certain love-at-first-sight myself. The night I met my future-husband I told my friend Allie, “I’m going to marry that guy.” The next summer I did.
5) In For Sure & Certain, family plays a big role in how both Marigold and Abel view themselves. They both begin the story with having rocky relationships with their sisters, mostly because it’s crazy hard to figure out who the heck you are!

My relationship with my sister, Alessandra Rose, plays an important role in my life, too. In fact, we love one another so much we took it to the proving grounds by getting matching tattoos that say, “I <3 MY SISTER.”. I told you, I really love her. J

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About the Author
Anya Monroe likes to write stories and paint words on her walls. She believes in love at first sight and fights for happily-ever-afters. As a wife and mom to six kids, she carves out time to write between carpool pick-ups and date nights because words are her heartbeat. She lives a ferry ride from Seattle and is a total Pacific Northwesterner who drinks chai lattes and wears Birkenstocks and has dreadlocks. She's a cliché, but doesn't mind it. Not even a little.
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