Monday, April 29, 2019

Calla's Summer Fantasy - by Amber Daulton

Calla’s Summer Fantasy

Publisher: Daulton Publishing
Release Date: March 18, 2019
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance 
Word Count: 13k
Heat Level: 5 Flames


Calla Lansky needed help at playing the field.
She scheduled two dates for the same night at her favorite seafood restaurant, and she owed her shocked boyfriends an explanation. To her surprise, Nathan Risley and Sam Tomlin handled the awkward situation like pros and happily agreed to her ultimate fantasy: a ménage à trois.
After the hottest night of her life, Calla faced the ultimate decision.
Should she commit to the one man who secretly loved her all along, or keep her options open and indulge in her summer fantasy again and again?


Calla laughed, almost strangling on a bite of grilled salmon as a dirty thought crossed her mind. She forced the food down her throat and chased it with her drink.

“You okay? What’s so funny?” Nathan forked a popcorn shrimp into his mouth. “You only giggle like that when your mind is in the gutter.”

“She crinkles her nose too.” Sam chuckled as Calla covered her twitching nose with her palm. “C’mon, babe. There’s no need to act shy after everything that already happened.” He tugged on her forearm until she dropped her hand.

“Okay, just hear me out.” Calla tapped her feet, drumming her hands on her knees to gather her courage. Then she leaned forward and braced her elbows on the tabletop. The neckline of her dress dipped, revealing a generous amount of cleavage. “I have a silly little fantasy. I’ve always wanted to have a threesome with two hot men who would tease and play with me for hours. Are you interested?” Hope filled her chest, but then Nathan’s mouth dropped open and Sam’s eyes bugged out as though she stood up and stripped naked in the restaurant. She swished her hand in the air. “It’s crazy, I know, and you aren’t into it. I understand. Never mind.”

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About the Author

Amber Daulton is the author of the romantic-suspense series Arresting Onyx and several standalone novellas. Her books are published through The Wild Rose Press and Books to Go Now, and are available in ebook, print on demand, audio, and foreign language formats.
Amber lives in North Carolina with her husband and four demanding cats. Feel free to visit her at

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Sunday, April 21, 2019

Amulet of Darkness by Marianne Petit


  Excerpt  Amulet of Darkness
By Marianne Petit

     Every aroused muscle screamed in protest as Gareth recalled the way Cyrenne had stood watching him, her eyes filled with curiosity. Despite the brisk chill of the water, a lustful heat stirred his blood, continued to course, despite his best efforts.
     She’d demanded he stop; but he’d sensed her desire to see more. He’d heard the anticipation in her slumberous voice. 
     Gareth strapped the leather sandal around his ankle and shoved to his feet.
     He knew women, knew them well, thanks to Anacone. He’d become a man in her arms that winter when he was thirteen. She had taught him the fine art of pleasuring a woman, how to caress the right spots with more than his hands, how to tease and take his time till a woman was right for the taking.  Cyrenne had that look, sober or drunk. But, he’d kept his promise to her. After very little sleep, he had jumped into the river.
     Gareth slipped his leather jerkin over his wet shoulders and glanced into the thicket where she had disappeared.
     He did not intend to humiliate her. His jest was meant to quell her uneasiness.  That she’d drawn a bow on him was charming. That she’d bolted away and misunderstood him was unsettling.
    Hearing a commotion, he strapped his scabbard around his waist.
    Entering the campsite Boreas, his trusted comrade, lumbered toward him. Wrapped in his big beefy arms Cyrenne struggled against him.
    So she hadn’t gone far, hadn’t left for good like he’d thought. The idea pleased him.
    "Lukie here, Lad, I’ve pooked a bonnie lass from the woods.” Boreas smiled a wide toothless smile.
    Gareth stepped toward them then halted. If he remembered correctly, she insisted she could defend herself. “You’d best--“
    “Ow!” Boreas received a swift kick to his shin, gave up his captive and rubbed his leg.
    Gareth winced.
    Cyrenne swirled around and landed a solid punch to Boreas’ chest. His body stiffened with shock. His ruddy face a shade redder than his hair, he pulled out a sharp edged blade.
    “Boreas retreat,” Gareth ordered above the raucous laughter of his fellow companions. “She is with me.”
     Boreas grunted, knew better than to challenge his authority in front of the men, and lumbered toward the campfire.
    “Every time we meet you are in the arms of another man. I ask you, why?” Gareth grinned. The woman had spunk. He admired that.
     She swept hair from her cheek and stomped toward him.
     “That you jest on my account, knowing full well I am not myself, confirms my initial assessment of your character.”
     “Ah yes, that of a dragonwort. I do recall. And I recall being told you did not summon my help. Forgive me for not coming to your rescue - again.”
     Flushed, her braided hair coming undone, he held back the urge to brush a few loose tendrils away from her luscious mouth.
     She stopped within a hand’s pace between them.
     The passionate blaze in her dark, insolent, eyes…
      Deities be damned, he cursed silently, sunlight paled against their brilliance.
     “If your men weren’t such boors preying on innocent women—“
     “Innocent? You, Sunshine, can handle yourself quite well. No, I fear my poor friend, Boreas, faced greater danger.”
    “Do not call me by that ridiculous name.”
    “Ah, but it suits you so well, does it not?”
    She inhaled deep, tightened her stance, readying herself for battle.
    He would enjoy wrapping his arms around that luscious body; enjoy grappling strength against strength, lusty heat against heat. Gareth backed up. “I thought you’d left.”
    “If not for that disgusting attempt on my person I would be long gone. What kind of filthy animals do you call comrades?”
    Though he understood her need to lash out at him, her words punched his gut.
    “Those filthy animals are my friends,” he snapped. “I owe them my life, my respect and undying gratitude.”   
    “You should have better control over your friends.” Her lips thinned.
     For a second, the desire to ravish her cruel mouth, with a punishing kiss flit, across his mind. “They are of their own free will.”
    “Well, restrain them, or my blade shall leave them with no other employ apart from that of a eunuch.”
    Gareth grinned despite himself.
    “I am glad I amuse you. Do you fancy being mauled?  She grabbed his loins.
     He stiffened. This woman never ceased to amaze him. “Ah, Sunshine, I thought you an innocent, but if you could just squeeze a little hard—-“
     She gasped. Her hand dropped as though burnt. “You are...” she stepped back, stumbling over her own feet, “the most intolerable oaf I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”
      She was rather stunning flushed with anger and would be quite a feisty tumble in bed.
His gaze traveled over the leather ringed maille, under which her full molded breasts rose and fell with angered breath, traveled over her hips and powerful, bare, thighs colored golden by the sun. Ah, that he could slip his hands up beneath her short armor and feel the silken folds of her womanhood... Painfully erect beneath his own armor his gaze snapped around the clearing.   How many of his men felt the same lusty heat? He noticed two men observing them. His scowl spurt their quick departure.
     “You had best stay away from my men,” Gareth ordered forbidding further argument. “They have been without a woman for a long time.” A trip into town to be serviced by a few hetairais would do them all a bit of good.
    “Then shackle them and let me leave in peace.”
    “You wish to leave? Done!” Frustration coiled within him. “Go home. This is no place for a woman.” She’d be safer away from his men, away from him.
    “And find a rope for yourself as well.” She spun on her heel.

    Watching her walk away, Gareth realized no woman would grace his bed this night. Aggravating wench! He’d spend another restless night unable to get the thought of her, of her fingers curling around his shaft, out of his dreams.



Marianne Petit is a past President of the Long Island Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. Her love of writing stems back to high school. She spent hours reading Nancy Drew, Alfred Hitchcock and historical romances. At the age of fifteen, she wrote a short story for children, as well as numerous works of poetry. Her love of history stems from her father, Roger, a Frenchman, whose love of American history greatly influenced her writing interests.

Newsday and several local newspapers have written articles on Ms. Petit and she was interviewed on TV for her first book, a time travel entitled: A Find Through Time.
She is a past President of the Melville Lions club, and currently 1st Vice District Governor for the Lions of Suffolk County, Long Island NY, a service organization that raises money for the less fortunate - especially the sight impaired.

She loves to ski, raft, horseback ride, and enjoys the theater.

Marianne lives on Long Island and is happily married for 40years. She has two sons, two wonderful daughters-in-laws and four adorable grandchildren.

You can visit her website at for extensive research links and excerpts of Ms. Petit’s books.

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Dance or Die @Liza0Connor

Why does Steel remember matters differently than 

what actually occurred?

The brain is actually a terrible recorder of past events. Especially events that a person recalls frequently. For example, if the person, let us say Steel, had withheld information from his college and the students accompanying him to the Middle East to excavate what might be the first major agricultural sites of mankind, it is possible upon recollection, he would forget the withheld information entirely. In his mind, that never happened. Upon further recollection of the horrifying events that occurred, he would alter more facts each time he recalls the situation. The two young women who were raped by insurgents who entered their camp, were no longer raped. They were just spoiled, angry young women who ignored him when he told them to go to the house, rather than stay in the car.

Being a traumatic event he’ll recall it often and each time he’ll change details, each time softening his guilt and pushing the blame to others.

In a way, this altering of memories can make traumatic events tolerable. But it can also result in a person who never takes responsibility for his own actions and thus he repeats the same mistakes again. Nor is he consciously aware of what he is doing.

This really happens. Researchers have proven this over and over. It’s why past memories can be so easily manipulated by suggestions from a psychiatrist. But what most people don’t realize is that everyone changes their memories every time they recall an event in their past. It might remain mostly true or it might not be even recognized as the same event by others who witnessed the original event.

True story: When at college my roomie and I joked about kidnapping a cute friend of ours. We laughingly plotted out the various ways we could go about it. There was another participant to our conversation, Kim, and this event, plotting to kidnap Steve, altered in her memories and became a real abduction that impacted the rest of her life. We reconnected through facebook many years later and she brought up the time when we kidnapped cute Steve and she shared how much that impacted her life (negatively). 
I had no idea what she was talking about. Neither did my former roomie. So I contacted Steve on facebook and asked him if recalled us ever kidnapping him.

“No, but sounds like fun,” was his response. So I contacted Kim and gave her the goods new. We never kidnapped Steve, and she could lose the guilt. That resulted in a great deal of anger and a defriending.  Evidently, this trauma had become the cornerstone of her life and she was NOT giving it up.

So don’t linger on negative events in your past. If you do, they will begin to consume you.  However, when you make a mistake, derive what you can from the lesson, and then move on. Revisiting it over and over can worsen matters.

Dance or Die

By Liza O’Connor
Contemporary Suspense/Romance


Tess Campbell, mafia princess, has fallen in love with a British prince, who is protected by a Secret Service agent during his stay in America. Two weeks into their budding romance, Tess’s father, a psycho mafia don, kidnaps and nearly kills the prince and his Secret Service agent, believing she has taken both as her lovers. The brutal assault reveals the true character of each man and Tess must face some hard truths, even as she takes control of her destiny to build the finest state park in the country.

Excerpt for Dance or Die
“Are you talking about the helicopter incident in the Middle-East?” Tess asked.
“That’s an excellent example. The CIA and the British Intelligence had warned Steel that the area was rife with insurgents and to attempt entry would be suicidal—advice that he kept from the school and the kids traveling with him.
“Three weeks into their trip, their campsite was raided. The insurgents tied up the men and made them watch as they gang-raped the two women. Then they gathered up all the gear, food, and water and left them there to die.”
Tess was shocked. This was nothing like the story that Steel had told her.
“Their driver returned in the morning and found the men bound and the women unconscious. Steel called the American embassy on the man’s phone and demanded they send him new equipment and better protection at once. They told him he was in a war zone and to get out. Steel told them to fuck off and hung up.”
“Dear God!”
“Fortunately, his students had no intention of staying and called the American Embassy back, begging for rescue. So the driver was given firm orders upon where to take them to await pickup. Steel was furious when he’d learned what they’d done and he promised to ruin all their careers if they didn’t stay. They all believed being alive was more important than staying to work on his site. Given Steel had no food, water, shelter or equipment, he went along as well, condemning his students the entire drive there.”
Steel had made it seem like he was the victim and that the deaths were other people’s fault, which was exactly what he was doing now as well.
“The driver warned everyone to the house, but the girls were in too much pain to be removed from the jeep. So the men ignored the driver and hung around the jeep.”
“Which made it a target for the enemy helicopter,” Tess said.
“Yes. The jeep blew up, killing the girls instantly. The young men ignored Steel who was yelling to hide behind a small fence. Two ran to the house and the other two ran for the hills. They survived. Amazingly, Steel did as well. They found him hiding against the fence with the driver’s body protecting him.”
“That is nothing like Steel’s version.”
“Well, that’s the four students’ version and why Steel was fired at once. And the reason he was fired from his most recent position was because, once again, he withheld the warnings he’d received from the CIA, but this time, they called the head of the university and relayed what had happened the last time Steel took students into a war zone. They fired him and the woman who was responsible for ensuring all university travel locations were properly cleared. He’d evidently convinced her he knew better than the CIA.”

BUY LINKS for Amazon
Book 1
Book 2
Dance or Die


A Fortune to Die For

Unexpected Love

Dance or Die

About the Author
Liza O’Connor lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels.

Investigate these sites:
Liza's Blog and Website   Facebook   Twitter

I now have over 50+ novels in various genres.
Check them out!

Sunday, April 14, 2019

Slammed by Liza O'Connor



Liza O’Connor
Contemporary Suspense
Country Western/ Bull Riding


Davy Hill goes from obscurity to fame by riding the rankest bull alive. Coming from a life of poverty, the young cowboy expects his life to change for the better now that he’s a successful professional bull-rider. Yet, with every occurrence of good luck comes an equal dose of bad. He suffers a potentially career-ending injury, a string of betrayals, and much worse. Despite all the brutal slams he takes, he keeps getting up, because he’s a bull-rider and they never give up.

The owner had sawed off the tips, but that didn’t impede Son of Sam’s ability to dig beneath the breathless rider and toss him like a rag doll about the arena and then, for good measure, crash his sharp hooves on the rider’s limp body several times. He especially had a taste for attacking the heads of riders who wore helmets rather than hats. Beneath his two thousand pounds of energy, those helmets would crush like pumpkins, often giving the rider career-ending concussions.
No one in the excited Guthrie, Oklahoma crowd expected anything different tonight. The only question in their minds was if Davy Hill would survive his encounter with Son of Sam to ride again. Many regretted he had pulled a potential ride to hell.

Davy’s Saga, Book 1

Liza O’Connor lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels.

Investigate these sites:

Monday, April 8, 2019

Hunter by Valerie Ullmer

(A Dark Assassins Novel Book Five)

Hunter (A Dark Assassins Novel Book Five)
By Valerie Ullmer

Genre:  Paranormal Erotic Romance

Cover Design by:  Valerie Ullmer


Half-vampire and half-shifter.

The one definitive belief panther-shifter Hunter and the other immortals understood about shifters and vampires; vampire venom is deadly to shifters and vice versa.  But Hunter never worried about testing the theory because he never wondered if he had a mate, even after a few of his family had found their own.  As he and two others stumble upon and eliminate several rogue shifters, part of a larger group determined to kill each of the assassins, Hunter also stumbles upon the one woman destined to be his.  There’s only one problem.  She’s part vampire.

All alone in the world.

Despite everything, Neri made a life for herself after she escaped from a facility using her as a test subject.  She has no past, no family, and no connections to the world as far as she can remember.  She stays to herself and finds a routine, telling herself she isn’t lonely.  But everything changes when she spots Hunter and her first true memory revealed.  He was there the day someone injected her with an experimental drug and changed into this cold being.

As Neri and Hunter navigate their newfound relationship, their journey becomes even more complicated when they learn Neri’s venom is deadly to shifters.  But with help from the other immortals, Hunter and Neri reveal her past and realize the extent of the threat Dark Company has been dealing with for years.

But can their relationship survive with so much stacked against them?

Buy Links

[ Excerpt ]

“You don’t have to fear me.  You’re safe.”  Hunter reiterated his promise and cupped her face.
Hunter’s vision blackened around the edges and a second later, he plunged into a darkness.  He didn’t understand when he heard her quiet voice.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
The next minute, Hunter sensed his surroundings changed.  He blinked his eyes, getting used to the darkness after the bright, blinding light of the snow.  He still found himself on his knees and as he moved his fingers searching for the woman who had been right in front of him, he found she wasn’t there any longer.
Hunter closed his eyes and listened to his surroundings.
There was a low hum from a computer fan somewhere in the room and there was breathing, deep, as if the person was asleep.  Before he could investigate further, a desk lamp clicked on and his eyes moved toward the arrogant looking man seated, cross-legged, on an uncomfortable metal chair.  He had a smug look on his face and Hunter wanted to break his face.
Hunter pulled his gaze from the man and took a quick glance around and to him, something about it seemed familiar.  The sterile coldness, the clear glass that looked out into the hall, the white formica tiles on the floor.  Sterile and clean.  The place gave him the creeps.
When he turned his gaze to the man in the lab coat, his gaze wasn’t on Hunter but on a woman laying on the exam table he hadn’t seen until that moment.
Hunter took a deep breath, trying to examine the scents in the room and looking for a familiar one, but there was nothing.  He should have scented the sterile environment, the blue liquid on the counter along with wooden sticks and cotton balls, but there was nothing.
He growled in frustration but neither the older gray-haired doctor, nor the woman strapped down with her mouth covered to muffle sound, reacted to the sound escaping from his throat.
Without another thought, he lunged for the doctor but he passed through the figure.
Okay, I’m not here.  Can’t scent, can’t touch.
Hunter turned toward the table and sucked in a deep breath as the familiar features of the woman in the mountains came into focus.  Her face looked gaunt, but it was the dark brown hair and matching eyes that took him by surprise because she looked familiar.  Her body looked starved and despite the bruising on her limbs and the dark circles under her eyes; she looked back at the doctor in defiance.
Hunter jolted when the man spoke.
“So, Nerissa… it appears you’re an utter failure as a shifter.”  His eyes glanced down as if he were ashamed by her lack of abilities.  “But you are a prime candidate for an experimental drug my colleagues and I have been working on.”
Her gaze narrowed as he continued to speak and he noted her body shook with the continuous growl that emitted from her throat.
“You had such promise.  Oh, well.”
As if waiting for that statement, a nurse walked in and handed a syringe to the man.  “Here you go, Dr. Stevens.”

[About Author ]

Valerie writes romances.  

Contemporary, Paranormal, Erotic, and Gay.

She lives in Denver, Colorado with her wonderfully supportive husband and their funny and wise black lab, Maddie.  Valerie is addicted to coffee, crime shows, and reading and writing character-driven romances.

As a voracious reader, she’s believes that all writers are rock stars, and she hopes that people enjoy her stories as much as she loves the romance novels she’s devoured over the years!

[ Socal Media ]


Sunday, April 7, 2019

Unexpected Love @Liza0Connor

Since the White Oak Mafia Series not only has trees, but the Iowa mafia in it, I thought you might like to catch up on some mafia lingo.
There’s a great deal of mafia lingo, most of which we can generalize and call the Italian language. However, they use some English words as well.
But here are some of their special Mafia lingo:

Euphemisms: The Mafia LOVES euphemisms
The Books: That’s what they call the Mafia families. When ‘the book’ is closed, someone has died. When the book opens, someone becomes part of the family.  They call it The Book because nothing is ever written down. (That last part is not a euphemism, that’s just being perverse! Books are full of words.)
Comare: This is what they call their mistresses, but the dictionary translates it as ‘godmother’.   Okay, that’s just creepy.
Empty suit: someone with nothing to offer, one who tries to hang around with mobsters. (I’d call that bad judgement)
Get a place ready: To find a burial site.  (Get a place ready sounds much nicer, doesn’t it? The term probably came into use when the feds started tapping telephones.)
Give a pass: To grant a reprieve from being whacked. (I probably need a pass for this blog.)
Going south: stealing, passing money under the table, going on the lam. (I’m pretty sure that means they need to “get a place ready” because he’s not getting a pass if he steals from the Mafia.)

Insulting terms in Mafia Lingo (and what the dictionary thinks it means.)
babbo:  A dope, idiot, useless underling.   Real Meaning: Dad.  (Seriously? Dad is a dope and idiot???? Does this mean mafia bosses have father issues?)
cafone:  (slang pronunciation "gavone" ) a phony or one who is an embarrassment to himself and others    Real meaning:  ‘boor’
cugine: a tough guy wanting to be ‘made’ (invited into a family).   Actual meaning: cousins.

Crime lingo: Since that’s their business, they need words for it.
Beef: A complaint or disagreement.  In English, it means a slaughtered cow.
Burn: to murder; other synonyms: break an egg, clip, do a piece of work, hit, ice, pop, put out a contract on, whack. Etc. (Just as Alaskan natives have twenty words for snow, the mafia has even more for murder.)
Cleaning: Stopping at lots of shops to avoid being followed.??? Wouldn’t stopping at shops just give them time to catch up to you?
Fence: someone with worldwide outlets to liquidate swag.  (Isn’t that the definition of IKEA?)
Hard-on with a suitcase: mob lawyer and if it’s a female lawyer it’s just a half a hard-on with a suitcase. (grrrr)

So there you have it.
By their language alone, I can tell that Mobsters are perverse, creepy, misogynistic, not terribly bright, prone to killing people (but are neat since they will bury those they whack, ice, cap, burn or whatever) are attracted to IKEA warehouses and have serious Daddy issues.
Liza, the mafia isn’t known for their sense of humor. You probably shouldn’t play with them.
Good Point! If you are mafia, I’m just being perverse and saying the opposite of what I actually mean. Please don’t kill me!


Megan Clarke had a good life until she wins the Mega Times Lottery and discovers the prize comes with a curse. Worse than the many money-hungry suitors, a serial killer has her in his sight. She changes her name and moves to Iowa with plans to buy their last major forest of white oaks and turn it into a State Park. Unfortunately, the Lottery Curse doesn't stop at state lines and someone there wants her dead, as well. Good thing a disturbingly handsome law officer is just as determined to keep her alive.

“Right now, you can’t leave this apartment. Any meeting you have must be done over the internet.”
“I don’t think I can get this done if I can’t talk to people face to face. What if I bring you and your posse with me?”
Steve met her gaze. “Sorry, it’s a lynch mob, not a meeting. And while tables are turned over in outrage at your stealing jobs, and chairs are being thrown for ruining their lives, at least, two of these are known aliases of hit-men who will take you out. And since you have not written a Will under your new name, nor have any known relatives, all your assets will go to the state.”
Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest.
She gripped his arm for comfort. “I would like to leave Iowa and handle this matter far, far away from here. I’ll move the land to a trust, which will run it as a private park in perpetuity, and I’ll leave everything else to you.”
“I’d love to get you the hell out of here, but we have zero confidence in the police force. We cannot safely move you right now. As far as the trust idea, hold off on creating it. This may be over sooner than you think.” He then stood and pulled her tight against him. “And for your clever idea to leave your cursed money to me, not happening. Leave it to someone you hate. And that had better not be me.”
She smiled at his point-blank refusal to be the recipient of her money. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I would never want to put such a curse on you. I take it back. I’ll leave the money to…Traver, or would if I could remember his last name or knew his address.”
“No, you will not. Leave it to some group protecting forests from developers. Someday, we are getting beyond your Lottery Curse, which won’t happen if you push it on me or enrich con-artists.”
She smiled. “So you see a future for us?”
He studied her. “Since you’re smiling, I’ll risk answering your question. I do. I’m picturing something a bit quieter than it’s been so far, but perhaps just as exciting in other ways.”

A Fortune to Die For

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About Liza
Liza O’Connor was raised badly by feral cats, left the South/Midwest and wandered off to find nicer people on the east coast. There she worked for the meanest man on Wall Street, while her psychotic husband tried to kill her three times. (So much for finding nicer people.) Then one day she declared enough, got a better job, divorced her husband, and fell in love with her new life where people behaved nicely. But all those bad behaviors has given her lots of fodder for her humorous books. Please buy these books, because otherwise, she’ll become grumpy and write troubled novels instead. They will likely traumatize you.
You have been warned.

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Check out all my novels, I've over 50 of them now and I'm still going strong!