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.

Friday, September 28, 2012


"Wow, would you look at that!"

The hostesses all followMac’s gaze. The beach swarms with party goers. Bare-chested men and bikini clad young women mill about a bright white tent, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. A heaping fire pit sends up tendrils of deliciously scented steam.

"What a great idea for Heidi’s birthday party. Who doesn’t love a beach bash? We’re going to have such a good time," Lyn announces heading toward the tent.

The hostesses hurry to follow. "What are they cooking?" Patsy eyes the fire pit tended by several hunky guys. "It looks like seaweed. I’m not eating seaweed."

"Who cares what they’re cooking? Who can think of food with all the tanned male skin around here." Mary laughs and drags Patsy along.
 "Besides, you don’t eat the seaweed. They use it to cover the clams and potatoes and corn on the cob, to keep in the heat while everything cooks."

 "And lobster!" Mac exclaims, rubbing her hands together.

Patsy groans  "I don’t know how you can eat those things, Mac."

Mac shoots her a grin.

 "Hey, beach volleyball." Lyn smiles over her shoulder. "Who’s going to play me later?"

"Don’t like to sweat, remember?" Mac flutters her eyelashes.

Mary snorts and tugs at her bikini top. "Don’t look at me. I can’t run around wearing this thing. I’ll end up in jail for indecent exposure." She sighs when one of the hunky cooks sends her a wink. "Then again, a little jail time might be worth it."


All three turn to Patsy, who hops on one foot. She scowls at the remnant of a flowered sandal dangling from her toes "I stepped on a seashell and blew out my flip flop."

"Yeah, but you look great in that bikini. We all do." Lyn preens, shooting a smile at a group of guys tossing a football in the sand.

"It’s riding up my butt," Patsy grumbles, kicking off her ruined shoes.

"Does anyone see Oliver?" Mac stretches to scan the crowd. "Heidi said they’d be serving Sex on the Beach Between the  sheets, and Afternoon Delight. And you know no one can mix up a drink like Oliver."

"There he is." Mary wiggled her fingers at Oliver, looking cool and sexy, as usual. He stamds beside the makeshift bar with Heidi at his side. She grins and waves frantically in welcome. "And there’s the birthday girl."

"I hope you brought your appetites," Heidi says, as they approach.. "We’re about to uncover the feast."

“I brought mine, but first…"

A sudden commotion draws everyone’s attention to the cloth covered table several feet away. A gorgeously decorated, red velvet cake sits at the center. All four hostesses gasp seeing Nibbie, with Foster, Cuddles and Hampy riding on his back, loping toward the table. 

"The cake!" Heidi cries

Before the hostesses can act, Oliver steps to the side. With a simple raised brow, he moves directly into the dog’s path. Nibbie skids to a stop and sits, tumbling his unhappy riders to the sand.

"Nice trick, Oliver." Patsy glares at the sidekicks, who scurry off down the beach.

Heidi’s shoulders slump on a relieved sigh. "Oliver, you’re my hero, but if you don’t mind, I think I need a drink."

“Make that five drinks,” the hostesses say in unison.

They raise their glasses in a toast.

 Happy Birthday, Heidi, and congratulations on your book.  Wishing you many, many sales.

Judging by her pristine yard, Kat already knows J.J. is good with his hands—and she’s more than willing to put those hands to better use. The man fulfills her every lusty dream, and Kat never thought a sex-filled fling would change her life for the good. Too bad it can’t last…


Kat’s heart melted. Her grandmother always said a man who loved his mother was a keeper. “You’re a sweet boy.”

Hurt fluttered over his face and his eyes hardened. Her hand flew to her mouth. She didn’t mean to insult him. “I’m so sorry, I know you’re not a boy. I felt that this morning.”

J.J. grabbed her by the hair, pulled Kat close to him and kissed her hard. White-hot passion rolled through her. Her lips parted. He delved in deeper. She heard a moan from somewhere far away. Was that from me?

When his tongue explored her mouth, Kat felt it all over her body. J.J.’s solid chest pressed against hers, proving he was one hundred percent man.

Heidi Lynn Anderson

Nick Anders

To win a Gift certificate for a copy of Heidi's book, all you have to do is just leave a comment and your e-mail address.
Contest ends Sunday and everyone who comments is eligible.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Kathryn's winner is...

Thank you SO much to everyone who joined us and left comments, and to Kathryn for being such a fantastic and fun Guest of Honour. The winner is:

***D R U M R O L L ***
Congratulations Tifany.

 Join us  again on 28th September  for more fun and Frolics at
 when the guest of honour will be HEIDI COTE

Friday, September 21, 2012

A clambake to celebrate Kathryn Knight's 'Silver Lake'

“I can’t believe you dressed us like this I feel like an idiot.” Mary smacks Lyn on the shoulder and Lyn braces herself from falling with her fulcrum feet.

  “Good save," Mary chuckles. "Didn’t mean to smack so hard. But, look at us. Grass skirts, coconut bras, and the hats, you had to give us hats? This is a clambake for goodness sakes, not a Luau!”
Mary gestures to their outfits and Lyn looks at Patsy’s scowl, and Mac’s glare. Lyn gazes up and down and then at her own outfit. “Well, I had no idea. We don’t have either one of those where I come from. Heck, I thought a party on the beach always meant grass skirts and hula dancers.” Then she cracks up chuckling and it’s contagious! They all burst out in laughter and fall to the ground.

 “Thank God we have time to change. It gets cool on the beach at night here in Connecticut, the breeze off Silver Lake can chill you to the bone at this time of year.”

Patsy grabs their arms and drags them to a tent set down on the beach as they walk from the lot where they parked. The dark water of the lake reflects brilliant sun crystals on the top of each small chop on the lake. The sound of children’s laughter stirs images of sand castles and floats on the water to mind. Patsy drags them into the tent and gestures to piles of clothing. Mac squeals as she grabs a bikini in her favorite color and steps behind a curtain to change.

 “I suggest you all grab something warm to change into later. I brought everything from sweats, to jeans for us all. Actually I thought Mary was choosing the clothes so I figured…” 

Mary’s eyes glaze over and she heads toward Patsy only to trip over Lyn’s feet. “That better have been an accident.” She glares at Lyn as Lyn helps her up. 

“Would I do a thing like that to you sweetie. Here’s a lovely suit for you it will hold those babies up where you want them you’ll look like a 20 year old in it.” Mary grabs the suit and steps behind the curtain.

Once they have changed they leave the tent to see Oliver in a speedo waving to them. “Show off.” Lyn laughs as they reach him. He has set up tables with snacks and a huge lemon poppy seed cake in the middle of the largest table.

Mmmm.” Mac is drawn to the cake like a magnet, Patsy holds her back. 

Huge chests open and overflowing with ice and a myriad of different beers. Even mead for Lyn. Other soft drinks sit in a chest next to a table that holds several bottles of vodka and cranberry juice. Next to that are the fixings for the famous Silver Lake Slammer. “Hey, that’s Kathryn’s favorite drink isn’t it.”

Oliver smiles and shakes his head, as if he didn’t always know their favorite drinks. He gestures for them to look at the fire pit. The girls stroll to gaze down, they know inside there are steamers and mussels, fish, sausages of several types including Mary’s favorite Kielbasa, as well as onions, corn and potatoes. “That explains the vats of butter.” Lyn chortles,“and where the food is.”

"They dig a huge pit and line it with cannon ball sized rocks over which they build a wood fire. Once the stones are glowing hot they take the ashes out and line it with wet seaweed. They layer the food between seaweed and finally cover the whole thing with canvas drenched in water. Gosh I hope they have lobsters in there too. The whole thing cooks for ages. Oliver musta been up way before dawn to have done all that work!” Mary tells them. 

“People are filling the beach the music is rocking and our guest has arrived.” Mac exclaims to the many cheers, whistles and applause. 

“Let’s give a warm welcome to Kathryn Knight and wish her luck with her new release Silver Lake.”

As a child, Kathryn Knight kept her parents on a constant quest to find enough reading material to last her through each week. An early fondness for books about horses later gave way to a lasting preference for both love stories and ghost stories; as a writer, the paranormal romance genre is a perfect fit. Silver Lake is Kathryn's first novel, and she is currently working on her second one. She lives in New England with her husband, her sons, and a number of rescued animals. Please visit her at www.kathrynknightbooks.com or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kathryn-Knight-books/305788679454063

Rain Anderson can’t decide which is more unsettling—encountering the ghost of her missing friend, or reuniting with the man whose love she foolishly rejected. But one thing is certain: the past has come back to haunt her, quite literally.

Five years ago, Rain’s tight-knit group of high school friends unraveled when one vanished during their senior year. Now, a parent’s deathbed request has reunited the friends at Silver Lake, including Jason Lansing, the man Rain discarded. Rain and Jason discover the powerful attraction between them has survived, but though Jason is willing to forgive, he can’t let himself forget. The possibility of falling for Rain again is too risky.
Slamming doors, crashing objects, flaring fires—clearly the ghost has a message to share. As Rain and Jason struggle to unravel the truth, they must face a desperate spirit in need of help…and a burning passion that refuses to die.

Her nails were digging into the bare skin of his back and her face pressed into his chest.  He could feel the warm moisture of her tears as he wrapped his arms around her protectively.  “It’s okay,” he murmured comfortingly, hoping this was true.  “Did you have another nightmare?”

            Rain lifted her head and looked up at him.  “No, I saw something.  In my room.”

            “What was it?” Jason questioned, his eyes darting back to the open bedroom door.  Light reached dimly from the room out into the small hallway.

            “I saw...a figure.  A figure with dark hair, and I think it was Brandy.”  She shuddered and put her forehead back on his chest.

Reluctantly, he moved their bodies apart a bit and scanned her face.  He held on to her shoulders and asked calmly, “You saw Brandy?  Brandy is here?”

            She shook her head.  “No, I saw… like… an image of Brandy.  I woke up, because it was cold, and I saw something moving.  It was Brandy, I’m sure of it, although I didn’t see her face clearly.  And then she, um, disappeared.”

            “An image of Brandy?  Are you saying you saw a ghost, Rain?”  He was pretty sure she’d had another nightmare, but the way she had flown out of her room gave him the impression it had been an extremely vivid one.

            “I know, it sounds ridiculous.  But that’s what I saw.  And she sort of, well, went through the wall.  I’m sure you don’t believe me,” she added miserably, lifting her stormy eyes to his.

            He pulled her back into a hug before he could stop himself.  “I absolutely believe you.  Whether you were awake or asleep, you saw Brandy and that’s scary.  I don’t think we can deny that weird things are happening here.”

            Jason smoothed her hair and waited patiently for her trembling to subside.  If a ghost really was lurking in her bedroom, there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot he could do about that.  A rare sense of powerlessness caused his jaw to clench in frustration.

He stopped watching the door and instead focused on the gorgeous woman in his arms.  She clung to him, and his body responded to hers with a familiar ache.  He knew he was losing the battle to keep his feelings platonic.

Buy links -  



STOPRESS: Katharyn's latest novel   Gull Harbour has recently been contracted by the Wild Rose Press!


To win a copy of Kathryn's's book, all you have to do is just leave a comment and your e-mail address.
Contest ends on Sunday and everyone who comments is eligible.

Friday, September 14, 2012

Bad Hair Day at the Author Roast

Hello to all our loyal followers.  The hostesses are 
playing around working hard at their writing, because it's a 'bad hair' day today, You can see for yourselves by clicking this link:

Join us again next week when normal service will be resumed and we'll have
Kathryn Knight as our Special Guest

Friday, September 7, 2012

Cate Masters at Key West to celebrate Angels, sinners and madmen

          “Shiver me timbers and walk the plank!” Mac adjusts her tricorn hat with a flourish. She waggles her full sleeves. “I think I sort of look like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean!”

            “For heaven’s sake,” Mary groans as she strides barefoot down the beach, calf-length skirt blowing in the wind. “We’re not pirates! We’re wreckers.”

            “What’s the difference?” Patsy spins in her full gypsy style skirt, a multi-layered rope of beads clacking on her peasant bloused breast. 

            “Pirates are the scourge of the seas and wreckers just go through the flotsam and jetsam left when a ship wrecks on the reefs or cargo is thrown overboard to lighten the load.” Lyn ties a bright scarf across her forehead leaving her ears bare so the big gold loops can flash in the sun. She hitches up her linsey woolsey pants. “Crikey, these things itch!”

            “If we aren’t pirates, then why are we dressed like this?” Mac draws a plastic sword and slashes at a frisky crab who scuttles into the water. 

             “Cate thought it would be fun to dress up in costumes befitting the life of a Key West wrecker back in the 1850’s.” Mary sniffs. “Your hat was out of fashion by then.” She bends down and examines a seashell before surreptitiously stuffing it in her pocket as she looks around to be sure no one’s watching. “We got a nice trip to Key West because of Cate.”

            Nibby races by with Hampy clinging to his tail. Foster blinks in, riding Cuddles. They fly off behind Nibby.
            “Come back here you nasty critters!” Patsy chases them down the beach. “Come back here!” She trips and falls headlong.

            “Oh my,” Lyn tsk tsks. “I think her mouth was open when she fell.”

            “Hey, you guys!” Patsy spits a mouthful of sand. “I think we’re here.”

            They round a tall palm tree. On a makeshift stage, right in the middle of the island festivities, dreadlocked musicians croon to the sexy rhythm of Reggae music wafting from loud speakers hung in the palm trees surrounding the open area.  Lo and behold! Dressed in a loose fitting shift and a wide brimmed straw hat, Cate is up there too, singing and swaying to the music!

            She spots them. “Isn’t this just too fun!” She motions to the band. “We’re having a blast.”

            She checks her watch. “Oops, time for the scavenger hunt.” She taps on the microphone to draw everyone’s attention then holds up a small brown wooden box. “Okay, the pseudo scavenger hunt begins. You know the rules. Best flotsam or jetsam find wins what I have in the treasure chest.” 

            A mass of people rush into the water, laughing and giggling as they splash through the waves.
            “What’s in the chest,” Mac whispers.

            Lyn winks conspiratorially. “I heard it was a weekend all expense paid trip to New Orleans during Mardi Gras!”

            “I want some of that,” Mary marches into the water and just as quickly screeches and runs back up the beach. “Something touched my leg!”

            “What’d it look like?” Lyn peers into the waves.

            “How do I know,” Mary grumps. “It just touched my leg.  Felt all slimy and slick.”

            “Probably the skeletal hand of one of those who perished in the dangerous shoals and shallow waters surrounding the islands.” Patsy shudders. “Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

            Cate jumps down from the stage. “Key West was an official port of trade in the early 1800’s. Lots of ships went down around here.” She gazes out to sea. “If a wrecker was lucky, he’d get to the shipwreck first and be the wrecking master. Then he’d get the largest cut of the goods and oversaw the project. Wrecking was an organized industry, not the riffraff as one might expect from a historical aspect.” 

            “Well, I want what’s in that treasure chest.” Mac stumbles into the sea, thrashing like a beached whale. “Gotta be something down here worth finding.”

            “Not me,” Mary shudders again. “I’m all for blended margaritas and some food.” She stomps up the beach.

            “I think I’ll join Mary,” Patsy says. “I can smell seafood cooking from here. My stomach could eat a crab whole, shell included!”

            “Try some of the key lime pie,” Cate yells as she wades into the surf. “It’s the best ever!”

            Lyn wades in behind her. “If an octopus grabs me, I’m going to be so mad!”

            “I’ll save you!” Mac waves her ridiculous toy sword. “The hunt begins!”


Please welcome Cate to her roast and join us in celebrating her new release 'Angels, Sinners and Madmen'

Sam Langhorne loves the carefree life of a wrecker in Key West. The island is perfect – for forgetting the woman who broke his heart. When he rescues Livvie Collins from a watery grave, he’s swept away by her beauty. He’s sworn off love, but is soon captivated by Livvie’s wit – and her independent spirit.

Olivia Collins never planned to visit Key West, or to fall in love with Sam. Handsome and attentive, he’s constantly surprising her with his intelligence and interest in current literature, but she knows better than to believe she’s anything more than a dalliance. As a novelist, she intends to make her own future.
Deception and treachery await them both in New Orleans. Can Livvie and Sam weather the most dangerous storm of all – love?

Previous reviewers called it “enchanting,” adding “I loved it and applaud Cate for creating a time in the past that seems so real in this book.” Another said: “You will fall in love these two characters along with the rest of Sam's wrecker friends. Laughter, tragedy and heroism abound, so make sure you have plenty of time when you start reading Angels, Sinners and Madmen, because you will not want to put this gripping story down until you have read every single word of it.”

It was a Top Ten Finisher in the Preditors & Editors Poll! I hope you’ll check out the book video, reviews, and more:http://catemasters.blogspot.com/2007/12/angels-sinners-and-madmen-historical.html

Inside the tall windows of Whelan’s Dry Goods Store hung sail cloth and rope. Anchors and other nautical necessities unfamiliar to Livvie occupied one side of the store. After wandering several aisles, she found the sewing items. One spool of white thread appeared thick enough to sew stitches in horse hide. While she examined it, a movement caught her eye, and the back of her neck prickled.

She glanced up to see Sam Langhorne stroll in. Walking toward her, his smile widened, and his gaze wandered freely across her, sending heated pinpricks across her skin.

He sauntered closer, his movements panther-like in their grace. “Good morning.”

The prickles traveled from her neck down her spine, deepening along their inward path. She held the mending tape across her chest to hide her quickening breath. “Hello, Mr. Langhorne. What brings you here?”

He stepped closer, his eyes bright. “Our schooner suffered a battering during the storm. I’m charged with mending the sails and am in need of some strong thread.” His fingers closed around hers. “I see you have what I need.”

Her voice failed her. “Pardon?” she whispered.

“The thread.” He slipped the spool from her hand. “Are you mending sails today also?”

Disappointment surprised her. “Mrs. Crowell sent me here for sewing thread.”

From the display, he selected a smaller one and held it up. “I suspect she meant this type.”

Warmth crawled up her neck. “I’m not much of a seamstress, Mr. Langhorne.”

“You aren’t joining Mrs. Crowell’s sewing circle?” He clucked his tongue. “I thought women enjoyed passing the time that way.” His brown eyes sparkled. Stubble shadowed his jaw and chin, framing his mouth.

She forced her gaze away when she found herself staring too long, wondering how his rough face would feel against hers. She pretended renewed interest in the threads. “I’ve little experience in that area.”

He leaned an elbow against the display and looked up at her. “Ah. Your passels of servants took care of your sewing for you, eh? And here I was hoping you might come lend a hand.” Grinning in a teasing way, he searched her face intensely, as though trying to divine the truth.

She lifted her chin. “After my mother’s death, my father hired a housekeeper. I’m afraid I wasn’t an ideal charge. I spent more time with Sir Galahad than at home.” Never had she wanted to be one of the primping girls who practiced domestic skills in hopes of enticing a husband, or took more interest in their appearance than anything else. Now she felt deficient in womanly skills. Sam Langhorne made her feel more deficient. Since their last encounter, she’d dreamed of practicing womanly skills on him.

He pressed his lips tight. “Your own knight in shining armor?”

So he knew of King Arthur. How, she wondered?

“My horse, Mr. Langhorne.” Something tightened in her chest while he held her gaze, so she scanned the mending tapes and selected one, hoping he wouldn’t correct her.

He straightened and stood closer than propriety allowed. “I see. You’re full of surprises.”

His nearness warmed her skin. She stepped away and forced a light tone. “And you, as well. You’re a man of many talents, apparently–sewing, salvaging, sailing. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I’m sure there is. Nothing comes to mind.” His low voice rumbled like an approaching storm, one of searing lightning and drenching rains.

Livvie had always been fascinated by such storms, and the thought of Sam tearing at her clothes like a gale made her shiver.

“A typical male affliction.” The newspaper tucked beneath his arm caught her eye. She tilted her head to read the banner. “Is that a Philadelphia newspaper?”

He held it out for her to see. “Yes, my brother sends it to me now and again, thinking he’ll taunt me into coming home. His letter said this edition had an interesting article on the wrecking industry.”

“You’re from Philadelphia?” She’d imagined him a farm boy, perhaps, from some obscure place providing no outlet for his energy. What else would propel a man to travel far from home to become a wrecker?

His tone fell flat. “Born and raised there.” He inserted the newspaper in its resting place beneath his arm.

“What made you come here?” Surely Philadelphia had entertainments similar to those in New York. Perhaps his occupation–maybe a blacksmith–didn’t allow time for social events. Judging by the abundant muscles on his lean frame, he’d worked hard all his life.

He leaned in dangerously close. “Why don’t you let me walk you home so we can continue our conversation?”

No ready excuse came to mind to refuse him. Nor did she want to.

Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home, but she’ll always be a Jersey girl at heart. When not spending time with her dear hubby, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.
Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters@gmail.com

NB: 'Angels, Sinners and Madmen' is  FREE today through Sunday! Go grab your copy from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008YWQGOU

Cate will be giving  away a copy of her  recent Western historical release with BookStrand called A Midwest Summer Night's Dream.

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