I’m afraid I’m going to cheat a little this week. A.S. Fenichel has assigned us FLASH FICTION:

About 500 words and the prompt is “first kiss.” Give us a short and sexy first kiss.

If you joined me from Leslie Hachtel, welcome!

Usually I love writing flash fiction, but I’ve got a lot of things on the go right now and am going to cut myself a little slack. But I’m definitely sharing a first kiss scene! This is from Richly Deserved, my new release. Enjoy!

***
 
Claudia straightened, her attention still absorbed by the painting, her face softly lit by the single bulb clipped to the easel, her profile outlined against the wall of windows.

“Come here.” Titus took her arm and urged her toward the middle of the room, snagging one of the barstools as he went.

“What are you doing?” she asked but went willingly enough. He set down the stool, placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her onto it.

“I’m going to draw you.”

“Don’t be silly.” She shifted as if to stand, and he held her down. Even in his furor to get a pencil and paper, he kept his touch gentle.

“I have to. I’ve been thinking about it for days. And now, with the moonlight streaming in…” He gestured to the nearly full moon glowing outside the window and she lifted her chin to look where he pointed. “Don’t move!” he said urgently. He wanted that exact tilt of her jaw, the angle of her head over her shoulder.

She ignored him and turned to look at him again. “I am not going to model for you, Titus.”

Desperation to create welled up inside of him, fierce and strong in a way he rarely experienced. He didn’t have time to argue.

So, he kissed her.

His palms on her cheeks, he pressed his mouth softly to hers, doing his best to wordlessly convey his need. She gripped his wrists but as he deepened the kiss her touch grew slack. Her mouth opened, welcoming him in, and her hands slid up his arms to his chest, and then wrapped around his neck.

He’d wanted to distract her, bewilder her so she’d sit for him without complaint. Instead, the heat of her passion was like a backdraft, the fire he’d set roaring out to consume him.

He dragged his mouth away reluctantly. Her eyelids fluttered open, and raw satisfaction filled his chest. Her gaze was dreamy and dazed. She didn’t resist when he took her chin in his fingertips and placed her exactly where he wanted her.

“Look at the moon,” he said. “And think about me.”

He went to get his sketchpad.

***
 
What do you think? I’d love to read your comments. Then, hop over to Jenna Da Sie and see what she wrote.

So, I'm doing a thing on Thursday. 

I'm joining author Kellie Coates Gilbert in her Facebook group, She's Reading, to talk about Richly Deserved, writing, reading, and more! There may even be giveaways...
We'll be going live at 4pm Pacific. Why not join her group now and come along for the ride?

I also did a thing yesterday (Monday). I did a live author event in the Seasoned Romance Salon, also on Facebook. If you aren't a member, you can join here, and watch the video. I also have a few giveaways that are open until 7pm Eastern today (Tuesday, April 13). 

This week on the Romance Writers Weekly Blog Hop, we are pulling back the curtain to reveal the mystery of how we write. Clair Brett commands:
 
Give us a glimpse into your “process.” Are you a pantser/plotter/hybrid, night owl writer/early morning, etc.
 
If you joined me from Leslie Hachtel, welcome!
 
There are as many ways to write a book as there are books. Even an author with dozens of novels under her belt will find that her process adapts and changes from story to story.
 
That being said, it is widely believed there are two main types of writers. “Pantsters” write by the seat of their pants. They just sit down and start typing and see what happens. “Plotters” were accountants in another life, and map out their books like a general planning a military campaign. In reality, I think most writers are a mix of the two, and that goes for me as well. I used to do a lot more plotting, working with spreadsheets that listed each scene. But I found that most of my stories veered off in unexpected ways at somewhere between the 30% and 50% mark. I learned to embrace that. After all, if I don’t know what’s going to happen, then the reader must be surprised, too!
 
Up until 2020, I did all my writing in the evenings and on weekends, since I was working fulltime. Since then, I have switched to writing in the mornings. Not too early – I still like to ease into my day with coffee and a few minutes of yoga. Then in the afternoons I work on editing projects (either my own or freelance for other authors), and in the evening tidy up a few things that might have been missed over the day. Of course, it’s not quite that cut and dried, but that’s the general gist.
 
One other thing I do as part of my writing day is read. More authors that I would have guessed don’t read much, especially when they are writing their own book. They say they are too easily influenced by the tone of the author they are reading, and worry it will creep into their own story. For me, reading throughout the day is a must-do stress reliever.
 
Now, hop on over to A.S. Fenichel and see what her writing process is like!

It's been just over a week since Richly Deserved was released! Thanks to everyone who purchased their copy already. If you haven't, this is what readers are saying about it:

"I enjoy Margriet's stories for the layered details that hold the reader close while cheering for the hero's and heroine's, as well as the secondary characters' successes." (Writer with a View - 5 Stars)

"...parts of this story will have you in tears. I highly recommend this book..." (Penny L - 5 Stars)
​
"Excellent writing, intriguing and relatable characters, engaging and original plot!" (Carolinexlt - 5 Stars)

Read it for yourself - find it at your favourite e-retailer here!

As a reader, romance will always be my first choice. That's because it encompasses so many different worlds - suspense, paranormal, historical - and I am guaranteed a happy ending. But I also enjoy reading many other genres, including sci-fi, fantasy and mystery. In fact, mysteries were my first love, which is partly why my most recent releases have each had a mysterious subplot.
 
This week on the Romance Writers Weekly Blog Hop, I set the topic:
 
Buried treasure. Ghosts. Locked room murders. What is your favourite kind of mystery story? Or do you avoid those altogether?
 
Like many girls my age, I cut my reading teeth on Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, and the Bobbsey Twins. I also remember the Cherry Ames series, about a nurse who wound up solving mysteries in the course of her various duties. By high school I was reading Dick Francis mysteries as fast as they came out, and had also discovered Robert B. Parker’s Spenser series. Then there are the classic mystery authors - Agatha Christie, Rex Stout and Dorothy L. Sayers. All of these contributed to my love of the genre.
 
Murder mysteries are usually my favourites. Combine those with a locked door and I’m turning the pages fast and furious. But it darn well better make logical sense once it is explained – no supernatural appearances or clues hidden by an irritating narrator!
 
I do, however, especially love when the mystery has a romance attached. Spenser is one of my favourites because of his love for Susan, and the relationship between Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane is one of the most complex love stories ever told.
 
What about you? Do you like mysteries? What are your favourites? Let me know in the comments, and then hop over to Clair Brett to see what she thinks. And don't forget to sign up for Clair's newsletter here, so you don't miss any of her news!

This is my view as I write this blog. In Northern British Columbia, early spring is pretty much late winter. We don’t dare plant anything delicate out of doors until the third weekend in May. To me, that is the true first day of spring!
 
We sometimes joke that we have five seasons here. Spring, summer, autumn, winter and The Melt. That’s the horrible in-between weeks when the snow is melting but nothing is green yet. The only good thing about The Melt is that it means winter is over!
 
But once we're truly in spring it is lovely. My husband and I always made a big deal of the first sunny, warm day. Our tradition is to play the Gypsy Kings Greatest Hits nice and loud, have a Corona and lime, and simply bask in the sun. Well, that’s what I do. He gets his joy from doing yard work, while I appreciate his efforts.
 
Going back to when our children were young, my favourite spring memory is sitting in the front yard watching my toddler son shovelling snow from the lawn onto the driveway to help it melt faster, and splashing in puddles in his yellow slicker and little red boots. Soon I am hoping we’ll be able to have the same fun with our grandchildren!
 
What about you? What’s your best memory of spring? I’d love to hear from you. Then be sure to hop over to Clair Brett for her thoughts on spring.

A.S. Fenichel has set us a tricky topic this week on the Romance Writers Weekly Blog Hop. She says:

Pick a book or story you’ve written and tell us where the inspiration came from.

If you joined me from Clair Brett, welcome!

Inspiration is an odd thing. It can be like waiting for lightning to strike. Sometimes is just a sentence that pops into my head. Or I read something and wonder what happened next. Sometimes it is more deliberate, like AFTER WORDS, my first seasoned romance.

Here’s how AFTER WORDS came about.

I knew I wanted to write a romance with older characters. I was also toying with the idea of writing a dual timeline story – one where plots in the present day and in the past run concurrently and are linked in some mysterious way. I also knew I wanted to write something that was Canadian.

In my wanderings on the internet, I came across the Canadian Letters and Images Project, which preserves the memorabilia of soldiers. That’s where I found the diary of William Henry Smith – and the rest, as they say, is history. You can find out more in the Acknowledgements section of AFTER WORDS (which is available now at all e-retailers. You know. Just in case you haven't read it yet...).

For my upcoming release, RICHLY DESERVED, I wanted something “the same but different” as AFTER WORDS. I live less than two hours away for the famed gold rush town of Barkerville, and had always thought it might be interesting to write something tied in with that. As I researched the history of that town, I came across the biography of William George Richardson Hind, one of the only artists known to have visited Barkerville during the height of its fame. The idea of centering a mystery around an antique painting caught me, and so Titus and Claudia’s story was born. I can’t wait for everyone to meet them on March 29!

Are you a creator? Whether with words, paint, clay or some other medium? I’d love to hear how you are inspired. Then hop over to Jenna Da Sie to see what gets her creativity flowing.

​Cabin fever is a real thing here in Northern BC. With travel restrictions in place, it’s been even more insidious this year. But no matter what our “real” life is like, reading can take us to other worlds and times, and help us get through the darkest days.

Maybe that’s why I chose this topic for the Romance Writers Blog Hop today:

Writers are readers, too! What have you been reading lately?

I am a big re-reader. It’s not a lie to say I’ve read some of my favourites ten or more times. When I know the ending, I can really get involved in the way the story unfolds, and see nuances I never noticed before.

In February, I reread (again) two different series by Courtney Milan – The Brothers Sinister and The Worth Saga. These are both set in the late 1800’s, and have heroines who are chess champions, biologists, computers (when that word meant someone who does complex math), suffragettes, daughters of traitors, and more. Ms. Milan’s romances are complex and emotional and ALWAYS a delight. Even if you don’t think you like historicals, I highly recommend you give them a try.

What did you read in February? I’d love to hear from you below. Then hop over to Leslie Hachtel to see what she’s been perusing lately.

​When I saw Jenna Da Sie’s topic this week, I couldn’t say no to joining! She asked:

If you could renovate one room in your house, which one would it be and why?

If you joined me from Clair Brett, welcome!

One reason I was excited to see this topic is that we are actually in the middle of a minor renovation right now. Well, I call it minor, but I’m not doing any of the work. It is keeping Mr. C busy, though!

Also, I love renovating in general. We’ve lived in our current home twenty-five years, and we have renovated all the bathrooms (one of them twice!), the family room (three times), and the kitchen. And I’m not just talking paint and new flooring (we’ve done that in every room of the house more than once). I’m talking taking walls down and putting them back up in new places. For some reason, the chaos and clutter of renovating doesn’t bother me at all, and the results are always worth it. Luckily, Mr. C and his brother love this kind of hands on work—and they are good at it—so we don’t have to hire people other than for some of the more specialized tasks.

​The last week or so has been VERY COLD in much of North America, so this week’s topic on the Romance Writers Weekly Blog Hop seems just right for while we are all hunkering down and staying warm!

Let’s talk about food. What’s your favorite food or dish? Does it evoke a memory or is it something new that you adore?

I am not a picky eater. If I don’t like something it is more because of the texture than the taste. So, when I started thinking about what to write for this blog, I had too many choices. But then I started thinking about the memories behind the food, and that made it easier.

One dish that evokes a strong memory for me is moules et frites.  In 2017 my husband and I went to Europe with my parents. We visited my mother’s family in Belgium, and then spent a week in the south of France. One day we drove to a village on the Mediterranean and had mussels and French fries at a restaurant overlooking the sea. While the food was amazing, the view, the company and the experience made it all one of the best days of our trip. Every once in a while I make the dish here at home and it never fails to remind us of that trip.

I don’t think I ever realized how much sharing a meal contributed to our human experience until this past year.  Eating together deepens the sense of community and belonging between family and friends in a way I don’t fully comprehend. It is that new understanding that made me choose my other favourite meal – turkey dinner.

Like many families, I don’t think we’ve ever roasted a turkey for anything other than a special occasion. That must be why it has extra meaning. Of course, the trimmings that are served along side contribute to the “specialness.”  Who can resist stuffing, after all!

What about you? What meal has deep significance for you? Let me know in the comments!

Then, hop on over to Leslie Hachtel and see what she has to say.

This week on the Romance Writers Weekly Blog Hop, we’re indulging in wishful thinking. 😊 A.S. Fenichel says:

Describe a perfect day either in your life or in your imagination. What would it be like?

If you joined me from Leslie Hachtel, welcome!

I am a firm believer in cherishing what you have, and not angsting over what you have not. By extension of this thinking, I don’t believe you can plan the perfect day. Expectations will colour everything, and humans are easily disappointed. It’s a phenomenon you often see at big celebrations like Christmas or birthdays, especially with small children. They’ve built the day up so much in their head that nothing will be able to match it.

That being said, I’ve been lucky enough to have many, many days where I can look back and say “There. That was a near-perfect day.” And if I study those days, they have a few things in common.

• I usually accomplished something. I don’t necessarily mean doing something I was paid for (although sometimes it is) but I completed at least one task. It might have been making a fancier than usual dinner, writing a difficult scene, or going for a more strenuous walk than usual. A day entirely at leisure leaves me feeling itchy and unsatisfied.
• I spent time with people I love. Sometimes it has been a large group (not in recent months, of course) and sometimes just one or two. But I don’t think I’ve ever spent a near-perfect day completely alone.
• I spent some time alone. Say what? Doesn’t that contradict my point above? Not really. I’m the type of person that needs a half hour or so every day to myself, to restock the well.
• I experienced something new—or revisited an old favourite.  Several of my near-perfect days have occurred while on vacation. But just as many have occurred in a well-known, frequently visited place. I think the main thing is the experience – the intent to live in the moment, no matter where it is, and savour it.
• I went outside. Few of my near-perfect days haven’t involved getting as close to nature as possible, whether it was a walk on the beach, a snowy stroll in the woods, or a beer in the backyard.
• I was not in a hurry. The world operates at a frantic pace these days. A near-perfect day has many aspects to it, but racing from one activity to the next to the next ruins it. There needs to be the time to appreciate what is happening, while it is happening, without the anxiety of moving on.

As you can see, this list has no specifics on it. It doesn’t say my perfect day MUST have this, that or the other. This leaves me open to experiencing a near-perfect day almost any day. Although a day where I haven't read can NEVER be a near-perfect day LOL!

What about you? Does your perfect day require certain things? There are no wrong answers. Leave a comment below, then hop over to A. S. Fenichel's blog to see what she wrote!

​I took a few weeks off from the weekly blog hop to celebrate the end of 2020 and welcome the beginning of 2021. But it’s time to get back into the groove (especially since I have a new release coming up in March. More on that in future blog posts!).

This week, I challenged our members to write Flash Fiction using the phrase/words: Happy New Year, cigars, and orchids.

If you joined me from Clair Brett, welcome! Here is my contribution:

Eloise had never felt the slightly hysterical excitement so many others did watching the seconds tick down to the new year. It was a completely arbitrary distinction between one moment and the next, something dreamed up by whey-faced administrators centuries ago. There was no magic in it. Nothing ever changed. It was the same old same old, just with a new number next to it.

She had planned to sleep away the last hours of the year, much as she'd slept the last week away. Instead, she found herself curled in bed, the glow from her phone the only light in the room, streaming the countdown from New York City that had already happened three hours ago but was being replayed for those in the Pacific Time Zone. Just one more indication of how fake the whole celebration was. Like another version of the movie Groundhog Day, only without the saving grace of Bill Murray’s comic insanity.

“Happy New Year!” the crowd in Times Square shouted.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled. “Happy freakin’ New Year.”

The doorbell rang.

Eloise blinked. Had it really been the doorbell, or was it one of the bells and whistles shrieking from the video on her screen? She muted her phone.

The doorbell rang.

Who could possible be at her door at midnight on New Year’s Eve? Well, it was New Year’s Day, she supposed, but midnight New Year’s Day was still twenty-four hours away technically, so it seemed calling it New Year’s Eve made more--

The doorbell rang a third time, cutting off her dribbling thoughts.

She flung back the covers, trod barefoot through her darkened home to the front door, and peered through the sidelight.

Jax stood on the stoop and she recoiled, pressing her back against the wall, her heart racing.

Rapid knocks thudded on the wood panels of the door. “Eloise! I know you’re in there. Please, I just want to talk.”

“Go away!” The words blurted out and she shoved her fist against her mouth. Damn it. If she’d stayed silent, he would have left eventually. Now she’d given him proof she was home, he’d never leave.

“Please, Eloise.” His tone softened. “I made a mistake. It’s a new year. Can’t we start over?”

A mistake. Hah! That’s what he called it? “Go back to your whiskey and cigars or whatever it is you rich people do on New Year’s,” she said bitterly. “I’m just the poor waitress you had a fling with. No need to worry about me.”

“It was more than a fling,” Jax said.

“Really? Then why did you pretend you didn’t know me?”

What they’d had was still so new, they’d agreed that meeting each other’s families over the holidays would put too much pressure on their relationship. But that meant they wouldn't see each other for a few days, so when she’d gotten off work earlier than expected on Christmas Eve, she’d gone to his apartment, hoping to surprise him before he joined his family that evening. Instead, she’d been the one stunned when he’d opened the door with a tall blonde in a sleek, simple black sheath that screamed expensive draped over him. He'd stared at her in shock as the heavy scent of orchids had wrapped itself around Eloise, the woman’s perfume as cloying as the smirk on her face.

“Who’s this, Jax? A friend of yours?” she’d said.

Which was when Jax had broken Eloise’s heart. “No,” he’d said, “she’s not a friend.”

She hadn’t stuck around to hear more, simply spun on her heel and fled.

Now, in the silence of a new year, his voice came muffled through the door. “I was surprised to see you,” he said, “but I didn’t say what you thought I did.”

“Oh, trust me, I heard exactly what you said.” The words were branded on her brain, still sizzling and smoking more than a week later.

“You heard the words, Eloise. But you didn’t hear what I meant.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You aren’t my friend. You’re so much more.”

Eloise realized she was standing with her palms pressed against the door's surface as if she could reach through to Jax’s warmth and strength. “I’m wh-what?” she stuttered.

“I love you, Eloise. Please, let me in so we can talk properly.”

“If you love me, then who was that with you on Christmas Eve?”

“My sister.”

Eloise closed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“Her name is Helene. We were driving to my parents together that night.”

“If that’s the truth, why didn’t you call me to explain? Why did you wait until now to come see me?”

“Because I was scared. I was scared you wouldn’t listen. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt, to have the person I love distrust me.”

They came from such different worlds. The dress his sister had worn was probably worth more than Eloise’s monthly rent. But when she was with Jax, all she could feel was how right they were together. Did she love him enough to work through her issues, to find the trust he deserved?

She opened the door.
 
I hope you enjoyed this little story. Now hop on over to Jenna Da Sie https://jennadasie.com to see what she came up with!