As many of you may know, our beloved sister hostess SHARON DONOVAN, tragically passed away on 11th April 2012. We who knew her, loved her, and were inspired by her courage and determination to face head on whatever life threw at her. When she could no longer see to paint she turned to writing and showed her amazing talent in the Inspirational Romance and Romantic Suspense genres, and her story 'Charade Of Hearts' was awarded the coveted Predators and Editors Award in January 2011.

This Blog was a source of great delight to her, she was one of the founder hostesses and she contributed to the fun and silliness in her own original way, and was kind enough to let her unique creation, the hunky butler 'Oliver' join us for our Friday romp and prepare 'virtual breakfast' for the guests on the following morning. It's beyond hard to have to go on without her, but we know that she would have been the first to insist that 'the show must go on.' She is, and will always be with us in spirit.
Sharon, dear friend, we will never forget you.
The Author Roast and Toast is part of the legacy you left us. Let's raise a Toast to you as well as all our guests.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

And the winners are:

Linda Conrad was kind enough to offer TWO books as prizes - and the winners are:


Congratulations to both of you, Linda will be contacting you shortly.  Thanks for being such a great Guest of Honour, Linda.

By the way could CINDY who won Roseanne Dowell's prize last week please  let us have your E-mail address, so Roseanne can send you your prize.  Thanks.

Sharon, Mary, AJ and Lyn appear on-stage, holding hands, to take a bow
They hug each other and wave before leaving the stage.

"Just another Roast and Toast!"

Thanks to everyone who commented and made this Roast such fun.  We really appreciate all the great comments.
Join us again on  1st April at:

when we'll be roasting  Linda Conrad  at:

Friday, March 25, 2011

Linda Conrad celebrates her latest book at the Rio de Janeiro carnival

The girls are in beautiful Rio de Janeiro for Carnival. Today they welcome a new sister hostess, A.J. Best.  All three are excited and not only do they have a new hostess to greet but they're looking forward to meeting best selling author Linda Conrad, and laying on a special celebration party for her.
The Carnival in Rio de Janeiro is a world famous festival held before Lent every year and considered the biggest carnival in the world with two million people per day on the streets. The first festivals of Rio date back to 1723.

 “Listen to this girls.” Mary reads the comment to them off of her computer screen. “I told you it had something to do with Lent.”

Sharon tries to wiggle her bubble butt into the tight costumes Lyn has bought at the last minute.

All feathery, Lyn is in blue, Mary peacock and bronze and Sharon is in cerise and green.

 “I have no clue what squeezing myself into this costume could possibly do with Lent. Anyways, that is not important right now, you know what the problem is.”

 “What,” Mary looks at her cluelessly.

“Surely you jest.” Sharon grimaces. “Lyn, is the problem, you didn’t order shoes large enough to fit her ‘tiny' feet.”

Mary eyes Sharon in the bathroom. “She does look grand doesn’t she though? If only for her feet. And her denial over her feet."

“If worse comes to worse, she can wear her flip flops.” Sharon points to the offending footwear.

“What’s up sisters? Is Tami here yet? Oh my goodness Mary, could you squeeze those into something smaller.” Lyn gestures to Mary’s large hooters and her tight top. “If it weren’t for feathers, we’d be near naked.”

All three laugh as one.

“Mary you’ll be fine. Don’t worry. AJ is a doll. And she has this fantastic cat, Thor. He’s got some special talent like our own sidekicks. Wonder what it is?” Sharon blows up at an errant feather on her head that keeps tickling her nose. “I dropped off her costume, it’s such a pretty shade of  lime green.

A knock at the door and all three rush to open it. On the other side is AJ new sister hostess for the Author Roast and Toast.

Mary, Lyn and Sharon throw their arms around her. All four start to cry.

Oliver shakes his head as he carries a huge tray of sushi, crab, shrimp, cheese, hearts of palm and  Sirloin skewers to add to a delectable salad bar.

Deserts include key lime pudding and luscious rich carrot cake with her new book,‘
Secret Agent Sheik’, on top,
in the icing.

He has a mini bar set up to make caipirinha the local drink of liquor plus crushed ice, sugar and lime juice, the local version of a Mojito. Delicious fare for Linda’s own Rio de Janeiro ball for Carnival 2011.  The three sister-welcomers step back and take a look at their new co-hostess.

“Well,” AJ tilts her head and smiles. How do I look?
“Your costume is fabulous.” Lyn smiles encouragingly.

“Yes and the green and yellow color is wonderful on you, you have the body of a 20 year old!” Sharon exclaims.

“You have fuzzy hair. You look like you put a mop on your head.” Mary tells her honestly.

Sharon and Lyn each punch Mary hard in both arms.

“OWWWW,” Mary whines, “I was just trying to be honest. Did you want me to lie to her? Besides, I have this beautiful headpiece she can wear. It will cover the frizz and she’ll look perfect.  And here, Lyn’s shoes have arrived."
She hands the large footwear to Lyn, who hides the size on the box with her hand.

Everyone notices but no one says a word as she tugs them on.

"Tact,” Sharon tells her. “Just a little more tact next time.”

“Okay,” Mary hugs AJ. “We all have issues sweetie, these are mine. Make it through the day without losing one or both, it’ll be a miracle.” Mary raises her hooters and tries to cover them better. “It’s the costume.”

“Sure it is dear.” AJ grins at her and all four hostesses join Oliver at the parade site. AJ can hold her own!
They all arrive at the parade site.

The carnival parade is filled with people and floats from various samba schools. A samba school can either be an actual school or just a collaboration of local neighbors that want to attend carnival.

The purpose of carnival is for samba schools to compete with fellow rival schools; this competition is the climax of the whole carnival festival.  Each school chooses a theme to try and portray in their entry. The samba schools work to build the best floats and costumes to represent their themes, and to include the best music they can from their band called the bateria.

The group reaches Linda Conrad’s float, covered with titles of her many published books. Linda sits on top, looking exquisite in a beautiful golden costume, ready to wave to all the partiers.
“Everything is ready for the ball Linda. Good luck.’ Sharon yells to her. “We’ll be here if you need us!”

Linda blows kisses to them and the parade begins!

“We love you Linda!” The hostesses bellow and they all begin to walk and dance in their beautiful costumes.“Stop singing La Cucaracha Mary, wrong song!” AJ laughs and they all dance alongside Linda’s fantastic float!



"Working together doesn't mean we have to like each other..."
Jass O'Reilly doesn't trust ex-agent Tarik Kadir.  A bedouin from an ancient tribe, the dark and brooding Tarik isn't who the lovely CIA agent wants by her side as she tracks down rogue nuclear weapons.  Besides, the mysterious sheik is just too handsome for an agent--the passion burning in his eyes just a little too hot.
Tarik knows Jass doesn't want him by her side as they delve deeper into the sultry Rio nightlife. Well, tough.  But before the Carnivale is over, he will have to question everything he thought he knew about his mission, his job, and his family.  His own heart, he just might find, is the traitor.


            What is Tarik saying?

Jass struggled to come out of her haze and listen, but the blood boiled in her ears.  With her pulse screaming through her veins as though she were pulling down five Gs, her body throbbed with passion.  And all because of the masculine body currently lying suggestively between her legs.

            Geez.  She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to snap herself out of it.  They were supposedly working a sting.  She was Celile.  But he was not the real Zohdi.

            Work.  Work.  Work.  This was an important assignment and not the most intimate experience she’d ever had.  Worse even than the idea of taking a risk with her career, there’d been a camera trained on them this whole time.

            She’d lost her mind.  But, oh man, what a terrific way to go insane.  The sexual chemistry between the two of them left her soaring.  Tarik’s mere touch jolted her with an intense excitement, sparking a conflagration that had sent her down in flames.  His naked and aroused body surprised her, but it shouldn’t have.  He was so much more than she imagined.  The most potent male she’d ever seen.

            Like spontaneous combustion, she’d found herself wet and set to explode.

            But they were only acting at their mission.  Right?

Remember the mission.

          “Hold on.”  Tarik left her long enough to drag the covers up and over their heads, covering them completely from view.

How could he remain unaffected?  Well, not totally unaffected, she’d noticed.  He was hot and pulsing…and huge.  He’d been ready just like she was.

            But his mind had stayed in the game.  A trait she’d better learn how to mimic.

            “Laugh,” he demanded in a raspy whisper.  “Or giggle.  Anything that makes it seem as though we’re doing what it looks like in this bed.”

            His words actually made some sense through her clearing fog.  At last.  She wiggled out from underneath his body and rolled over to face him—while both of them remained hidden under the covers.

            Watching him closely, she opened her mouth and let out one of the loudest moans imaginable.  “Ah.  Ah. Ah.”  She forced the volume higher.  “Oh, Zohdi.  Oh.  Oh.”

            Finally, she wound herself up and screamed incoherently.  A thing she had never done during the throes of passion in her entire lifetime.

            Tarik actually smiled as he murmured low, “Nice work, agent.  I’d like a repeat performance someday.  But not for the cameras.”

            That did it.  He had to move away.  Now.

            “Get out of bed and turn off the lights, Zohdi.”  She gritted her teeth.  “And then bring me a robe.”

            Why hadn’t the man thought to turn out the lights in the first place?

            In a hushed tone, Tarik answered.  “Okay, but I’m betting turning off the lights won’t help.  The camera is probably NVC, night vision capable.  Most surveillance equipment is set up that way.  I’ll gladly get the robes.”  He scowled and rolled out from under the blankets, leaving her covered and furious.

            Seconds later he pulled down the covers and immediately threw one of the terry bath robes over her.  “Get up, Celile,” he announced in a loud voice.  “You need a shower and I have work to do on the laptop.”

            “What did you say?”  It was easy to fake a little indignation.  She felt every bit of Celile’s part.

            Tarik turned his back.  “Get up.”

            “Well, isn’t that romantic?  You bastard.”  She shoved her arms into the robe and stood.  “I’m going.  But if you think for one minute that you’re in for a repeat performance tonight, you are out of your mind.  You and your damned laptop can sleep out on the terrace.”

            Grasping the robe around her like a shield, Jass marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.  Once alone and out of camera range, she leaned both hands heavily on the countertop.  Hanging her head and breathing in and out through her mouth, she tried to calm her shaky nerves.

            Realization began to sink in.  He had actually picked a fight in order to save them from having to sleep together tonight.  The whole scene back there suddenly became clear.  Everything he’d done in the bedroom—stripping himself and not her, carrying her to the bed and covering them from view—all of it was done for her benefit.

To save her from embarrassment.

by Linda Conrad
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Releases in April 2011 and will be available everywhere, including Kindle

ISBN 978-0373-27722-3
Copyright 2011

Linda Conrad bio-

Bestselling author, Linda Conrad, has written thirty contemporary novels for Harlequin-Silhouette Books. To date, her books have been translated into more than sixteen languages and sold in over twenty-two countries.

Linda's sensual characters and passionate stories have brought her numerous awards and superlative reviews. Over the years her workshops and articles have helped other writers learn new skills and techniques.

Linda’s books have appeared on the both the Walden Books Series Bestseller lists and on the BookScan Top One Hundred.  Her books have been honored as the winner of the Reader’s Choice Award, Write Touch Readers Award, Holt Medallion Award of Merit,  Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award,  and the Maggie Award for Short Contemporary Romance. 

Linda, her husband and dog, KiKi, live by the sea where Linda enjoys boating, shopping and telling the stories in her heart.

To learn more about Linda and her books visit her website:  



Friday, March 18, 2011

A Spring celebration with Roseanne Dowell

 A beautiful spring day. The scent of  green apples and peppermint wafts through the cottage. The buds are budding, the air is clear and fresh and the birds are chirping - if you can hear them that is, above the excited chatter of the hostesses as they prepare for their latest guest, Rosanne Dowell, to celebrate her latest release 'Stranger On  The Shore'.

The three hostesses are getting ready in one of the spacious guestrooms, while in the kitchen, Oliver is preparing a feast, perfect for such a beautiful spring day. Cream of brocolli soup, garden salad,  Lobster tail, Prime Rib au jus with horseradish sauce, Roast Turkey    Garlic Mashed Potatoes, mixed vegetables and for dessert a choice of Pina Colada Mousse, and French Chocolate Chambord Cake, decorated with a sugar copy of Rosanne's book cover.

"I'm really looking forward to seeing Rosanne again," Mary gasps as she adjusts her sexy red backless top over her larger-than-life hooters. "We had such fun with her  'Christmas In July' party last year.
"I know," Sharon grins as she eases her ample butt into a pair of tight silk trousers, it's nice to have a spring celebration today though, it's been a long hard winter and I'm so glad the sun's shining and the weather's calm. We might even be able to go boating out on the lake, afterwards."

 "Lake - did you say lake?  I didn't realise."  Lyn rushes over to the window, nearly tripping over her oversize sling-backs in her haste.  Yes, the lake can be seen clearly from the windows at the side of the house, as well as from the roomy conservatory.  "Look at the way it sparkles in the sun - and are those waterlilies, on the far side? Isn't it beautiful!"
"It certainly is - and Rosanne's heroine, Jordan, lives in a cottage by a lake too, I wonder if she'll drop in today."
Sharon slaps her on the back and giggles.  "Mary! I think you ought to rephrase that!"

Mary starts chuckling as she realises what she's said. "Well, you know what I mean - and if anyone falls in the lake today, no worries, we'll just use Lyn's shoes as a boat and row out to rescue them!"

Lyn's grin freezes on her face and she scowls at Mary. "That's not funny Mary, I don't know why I let you girls choose my shoes every week - and how could I have picked a pair of trousers that aren't long enough to hide them? It's quite embarassing you know."

"Yes, you shouldn't tease her," Sharon scolds, "you know how sensitive she is about her feet. She might just hide one of your hooters in retaliation."

"Now there's an idea."

Mary clasps her hands to her chest as Lyn reaches out her hand with a wicked gleam in her eye. Sharon leaps forward to Mary's defence, trips over Lyn's feet and grabs Mary for support and the three of them end up in a heap on the floor, just as the doorbell rings.

Oliver in his cool white teeshirt and black jeans, grins to himself as they fumble around trying to pick themselves up.  He's used to their squabbling and knows how much they love each other really.  He opens the door and there stands Rosanne, looking beautiful and elegant in a long flowing jade cotton dress and sunhat, with designer shades. Oliver bows low, presents her with a bouquet of  spring flowers he's gathered fresh from the garden, and escorts her to the conservatory where he places a chocolate martini in her hand.

The hostesses rush in and hug her, begging for copies of her book. A stack of her novels, with'Stranger On The Shore' in pride of place sits on a sidetable in the dining room waiting to be signed.

So without further ado, let the party begin - and for your chance to win a copy of Roseanne's book leave a comment and answer this question - what for you is the first sign that 'Spring Has Sprung'?

Blurb for Stranger on the Shore
Author, Jordan Blake lives in a house along Lake Erie. She’s a recluse and likes it that way. No interruptions while she’s writing. At least not until that day in October when an early Lake Effect Snow storm brews up. Not that she minds snowstorms. Far from it. She loves them. While she’s on her deck securing chair cushions and chairs, something along the rocky shoreline catches her eye. A body? Hard to tell from where she stood. Not being one to ignore someone in need, she rushes across the yard. It’s a body all right–a male’s body. Thank God he was alive, but unfortunately unconscious. After much pulling, rolling and pushing, Jordan manages to get him to her house and finally inside, undressed and into something dry. Jordan finds herself strangely attracted to the man.
More than a storm rages inside and out.
 Excerpt from Strange on the Shore
“Darn, it’s getting cold.” Jordan shivered and zipped her sweat shirt.  She hated storms, hated thunder and lightning most of all.  Grabbing at some papers that flew across the deck as the wind picked up, a movement caught the corner of her eye. Something washed up on the shore. Something big. A body?
Jordan jumped off the deck and raced toward the craggy shoreline.  Dark clouds hovered across the lake. Cold water splashed against her as waves crashed against the rocks like angry arms hurling water at an invisible enemy. The crash of thunder echoed across the lake. Ducking her head as lightening streaked across the sky and the air crackled with electricity, she thought she must be nuts. Probably just a bunch of old clothes washed up. Still, she had to see for herself.

Surely, no one in their right mind would be in the water this time of year? There had been storm warnings on the radio all morning. No one would be stupid enough to ignore the forecast. Would they? Heavy rain and strong winds then turning to snow, with a drastic drop in temperature, and blizzard-like conditions weren’t anything to ignore. Jordan winced as lightning flashed again, back-lighting the dark clouds.  Darn it, she wanted to be inside cuddling by the fire not out here in a storm. For two cents, she’d turn around and go back. But something drew her forward.

A man’s body against the rocks.

Oh, Lord, please don’t let him be dead. She had planned for a quiet weekend, writing. A weekend with a corpse wasn’t on her list of quiet. But she couldn’t leave him out here either.

 Jordan came closer and stooped down next to him. Lifting his head out of the water, above the crashing waves, she felt for a pulse. Thank God, he’s alive. Now how to get him out of here? She grabbed his arm, rolled him over and tried to pull him from the fury of the lake. Wave after wave pounced on him, their foamy peaks trying to reclaim him. Lord, if she ever needed help, now was the time.  Struggling to roll him to higher ground, she lost her breath. His long, muscular frame outweighed her slender five foot two body and felt like dead weight.

 “You’re going to have to help me.” Jordan grunted and gasped for breath when the full force of icy waves pulled her down and washed over both of them.
No response.

“Damn it. I can’t do this alone.”

Still no response.
Great, how was she going to pull him to safety? “I hate to do this, but I see no alternative.” Jordan took a deep breath and pushed him over, rolling him like a barrel and trying to avoid cutting him on the sharp rocks. It wasn’t easy, but at least he moved.

“Come on!” Jordan tried to encourage some life from his limp body.  Once he was far enough away from the waves, she stared at him for a moment, before leaning down to give him mouth to mouth. His long straight nose, eyes set wide with bushy eyebrows and the grin on his lips, even in his unconscious state, sent a ripple of excitement through her body.

Not a handsome man, but something about him caused heat deep inside her. Shrugging off the urge to run her fingers through his curly black hair, she began mouth to mouth. When her mouth touched his lips, opened them slightly, something familiar tugged on her heart. She hadn’t touched a man's lips in, what, three years. This wasn’t exactly the way she imagined touching them again. Not that she ever imagined it. Never even thought about it. She’d had enough of men to last her a lifetime.

Roseanne Dowell

Roseanne is the mother of six, grandmother of fourteen and grandmother. She teaches writing classes at Long Story Short Writing School - http://www.lsswritingschool.com// You can find more of Roseanne’s work at Amazon.com, just type in her name. Besides writing, Roseanne enjoys reading, quilting, ceramics, and making jewelry. She’s a member of NEORWA.

Stranger on the Shore, Double the Trouble, A Second Chance, May I Have this Dance,And They All Fall Down and Elusive Mission releasing in 2011 from http://tinyurl.com/22ppkmp

Purchase Stranger On The Shore HERE

To win a copy of Roseanne's book, all you have to do is just  leave a comment and your e-mail
Contest ends tomorrow and everyone who comments is elligible.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Beach Party with Bobbye

Hello and welcome to another wildly wicked Friday at the Author Roast and Toast. We can’t promise that you’ll win the lottery tonight. We can’t promise that Mr. Perfect will pop out of a magic genie bottle to fulfill your every fantasy. We can’t even promise that if you click your heels together three times, you’ll be back in Kansas. But what we can promise is side-splitting laughter from three zany hostesses, a sexy cabana boy who will wait on you hand and foot with a wink and a smile, and crazy group participation from our roastee of the day along with all participating visitors, both regulars and newbees, who dare to take a walk on the wild side with us.

Today’s celebration is at the beach, and we are tickled pink to welcome back one of our favorite roastees, Bobbye Terry, to roast her upcoming release Buried in Briny Bay

The first of four Briny Bay novellas, a fun, comedic murder mystery with two sassy, mouthy sisters from Briny Bay, North Carolina, a fictional town on Pamlico Sound, to be released for your pleasure March 14th.* Stop Press - Bobbye's Publisher couldn't hold back any longer! BURIED AT BRINY BAY is available NOW!

So come on down, grab your beach bag, favorite bikini and plenty of sun screen because the sun is hotter than Bobbye’s book!
Singing Cajun music as he grills, Oliver looks pretty hot himself in his powder blue Speedo swimming trunks. The insatiable smell of the roasted pig, burgers, hot dogs, cheese fries and clams, sizzling in butter and garlic in
 a stone hearth in the

sand, waft over the beach as the hostesses set things up for the weekend bash.

Potato chips, tortilla chips and dip, along with baskets of soft
     pretzels sit invitingly on umbrella tables, while trays of chilled pineapple, water melon, cantaloupe, honey dew and succulent strawberries and sweet grapes scream to be sampled on tables surrounding lounge chairs.

Chocolate chips and fudge brownies sit pretty,  a chocolate celebration cake with a sugar copy of Bobbye's cover, and a frozen ice cream cake stays cool, along with coolers of beer and soda.

“Girls,” Sharon adjusts her shocking pink bathing suit bottom with a grin. “Tell the truth, sisters, has the time come to part ways with my string bikini?”

Lyn chokes on the coke she’s slugging back. “Sharon, sweetie, those waves parted a long time ago. In other words, honey, that ship has sailed.”

“Yeah,” Mary chortles, laughing so hard her hooters shake loose and tumble into the ocean blue, leaving her canary yellow bikini top sagging.

In her haste to fetch them and trying to stifle her cackling, Lyn dashes after them in a race that would do a marathon runner proud, that is, until she stumbles over her barges of feet and falls
head first in the ocean just as a tide rolls in, sweeping her and her spanking new purple bikini away.

Sharon whistles, “Who knew those barges could come in so handy. Wow, look at Flipper go! Holy mackerel, she caught up to that whale, and, don’t look now Mary, but the gigantic porpoise just blew one of your hooters out of his blow hole and Lyn caught it! Who knew she was so athletic! OOPS, spoke too soon, she dropped it and that dolphin nabbed it. What should we do?”

“Whatcha think, sister,” Mary slaps Sharon on the fannie so hard she takes a nose dive head first into the ocean blue, Mary a splash behind her, her voice carrying in the salt scented air. “We’re gonna go fetch my hooters, all for one and one for all! Swim, sister, swim!”

An hour later, the hostesses three, resembling drowned sea hags, sit on lounge chairs, belting back icy cans of beer. Oliver, man of the hour, pumps his biceps with a grin. Just as things got ugly, he paddled out to sea in an outrigger canoe to rescue the damsels as well as tackle a stubborn dolphin for Mary’s hooter. The other rolled in on a wave.

In the distance, a harbor bell rings, echoing over the squawking of seagulls and birds as a boat drifts to shore. Waving and blowing kisses to the guests, BOBBYE sparkles and shines in the late morning sun. Looking drop dead gorgeous in a striking tangerine bikini, diamond earrings, necklace and ankle bracelet, designer shades and her gauzy white beach cover billowing in the breeze, she steps onto the sand, Oliver kisses her and hands her a cold one, jerking his head to the tipsy hostesses.

“Y’all know what they say ‘bout, ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”




Roxie Turner finds herself up to her neck in trouble when her lifelong nemesis, Georgia Collins, is discovered buried in the town’s landfill. To make matters worse, with her characteristic Southern sass, Roxie has been saying she’d kill Georgia for more than twenty years. In fact, she listed the ways to do the woman in, constantly reminding prominent citizens of her intent. It was all a joke, or so she thought. But the joke turns on her as, suddenly, other dead bodies begin to pile up, all murdered with a technique from Roxie’s list.

Enlisting the assistance of handsome hunk, Greg Norris, Roxie’s sister, Trixie Frye, comes to her aid, bent on uncovering the killer and the truth. Can they find out both before Roxie goes to the big house?

Trixie groaned as she flopped on her living room sofa. “I’d never have guessed our town’s detectives could be so downright unpleasant.”

“Make that shitty.” Roxie sat in a side chair and crossed her arms. “I can’t believe our own brother took us in. And you were just about as bad. Thanks for getting us dragged in for two hours.”

“Look.” Trixie waved her finger in the air. “I was dragged in with you. It’s no fun being related to a cold-blooded killer.”

“I am not a killer.” Roxie’s voice quivered on the last word.

“Sorry.” Trixie kicked off her shoes. “I told you the detectives surprised me with how good they are—at the end, they even had me convinced.”

Roxie sagged against the chair back. “Sure I’ve thought of ways to kill Georgia for nigh on twenty years, but I could have done a lot better than dumping her in the landfill. Even throwing her in the Pamlico Sound like I suggested once. That would have been better. There’ve been a lot of bodies they’ve never found out there. It’s just a matter of watching the tide and the moon phase. Then there’s that area, you know the one off the point with all the sharp jutting rocks and the deep drop-off…”

“Roxie, too much information. Remember, Georgia’s dead with a capital ‘D.’” Trixie rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Who else would the police think did it? You had cause, that’s for sure, and you’ve even told the mayor how you planned to kill her. Everyone thought you were joshing, but now that someone’s actually murdered her, well, thinking you did it is a natural conclusion.”

“So how do we convince them otherwise, Trix? I don’t look good in yellow or stripes.”

Bobbye Terry. BE MINE, VALENTINE, 1/28/2011, Turquoise Morning Press (TMP)
w/a Terry Campbell:CRAIGS' LEGACY, 2/11/2011 (BOB); Backlist on Kindle
w/a Daryn Cross, IT'S MAGIC, Crescent Moon Press 

Available from
All Romance EBooks
Barnes and Noble


Where oh where was Mary's other hooter?

To win a copy of Terry's book, all you have to do is just leave a comment with your answer to the above question, and your e-mail address.
Contest ends tomorrow and everyone who comments is elligible.

The photo of The Inn on Pamlico Sound is courtesy of TripAdvisor