Coming soon! July 21. 2023!!
This story has been roiling around in my mind for many years. As an author, I'm used to having voices in my head. They tell me their life stories, and demand that I write them down, so readers will allow them to live in their minds also. But non-authors are confused when I tell them this. So I wrote an author character who also hears voices in her head.
I chose the name Naomi for my heroine, because a dear friend, who passed on way too early, many years ago, was named Naomi. I always wanted to honor her brave spirit and her independent, feisty nature. So here she is!
I also swore years ago that I'd never even read, let alone write, a romance with a Scottish hero. Why? Me late faither was from Glesga--and the accent duz-nae say, "Hello sexy man in a kilt," to me! It says, "Hello, Dad." Totally NOT sexy! LOL. But he's been gone for over 10 years now, and I miss his accent. It was fun, trying to write phonetically, the way he spoke. If it causes you any troubles, just read it aloud the way it's written. Glaswegians are much harder to understand than most Scotsmen. It's not you--it's them!
Blurb: Naomi, an author with anxiety attacks, seeks help from an experimental dream therapy. The doctor's grad student assistant is a Scotsman in a kilt. Their tentative relationship spirals out of control when they get close to the truth. Can their relationship survive? Will they?
*********************************************************************************
This story has been roiling around in my mind for many years. As an author, I'm used to having voices in my head. They tell me their life stories, and demand that I write them down, so readers will allow them to live in their minds also. But non-authors are confused when I tell them this. So I wrote an author character who also hears voices in her head.
I chose the name Naomi for my heroine, because a dear friend, who passed on way too early, many years ago, was named Naomi. I always wanted to honor her brave spirit and her independent, feisty nature. So here she is!
I also swore years ago that I'd never even read, let alone write, a romance with a Scottish hero. Why? Me late faither was from Glesga--and the accent duz-nae say, "Hello sexy man in a kilt," to me! It says, "Hello, Dad." Totally NOT sexy! LOL. But he's been gone for over 10 years now, and I miss his accent. It was fun, trying to write phonetically, the way he spoke. If it causes you any troubles, just read it aloud the way it's written. Glaswegians are much harder to understand than most Scotsmen. It's not you--it's them!
Blurb: Naomi, an author with anxiety attacks, seeks help from an experimental dream therapy. The doctor's grad student assistant is a Scotsman in a kilt. Their tentative relationship spirals out of control when they get close to the truth. Can their relationship survive? Will they?
*********************************************************************************
Two For Tuesday
Click for buy links
Blurb--
When a world-famous cardiologist has his personal life going up in flames, he seeks out the "one who got away." She's tried to forget him, but he didn't get to be rich and famous by not pursuing his dreams. And she's never been good at saying, "No."
Set up for excerpt: How did he meet her? Marcus only allows himself to go into town to a bar every other Tuesday, for one beer. Then he has to head back to the dorm room he shares with another medical grad student, to dive back into his endless homework. But one night in the bar he hears yelling to indicate a woman is choking. He rushes over to her and performs the Heimlich maneuver on her. Right after that, her girlfriends rush her out of there. He figures he'll never see her again.
Two weeks later, Marcus walked into town again after dinner in the dorm, and used what little profit he had left-over from his twice-monthly government-issued living expenses check, and bought himself a beer. He looked around for familiar faces to sit with. When he didn't see any, he sought out an open chair and sat down at a table by himself. He was just starting his regular habit of brooding over his lot in life, when one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen crossed the dance floor, staring directly at him.
How can she manage to walk and move her hips like that, without spilling any of her beer? Her smile says she knows she looks like a wet-dream walking. What the hell does she want from me? His long-ignored desires flared to life. He was incapable of coherent thought while the blood rapidly abandoned his brain.
"Hi. You're Dr. Marcus, aren't you?" She smiled at him as if she already knew the answer.
"Uh, yea. I'm Marcus. But I'm not a doctor yet.” He was grateful that his dark skin would hide the blush that he could feel creeping up his body, as he responded to her overwhelming sexuality.
"Well, I'm Melanie. You saved my life a couple of weeks ago, remember?" She pantomimed choking, while grasping her throat with both hands.
"I remember."
"Can I sit down? Thanks." She oozed into the chair next to Marcus and scooted it closer to him.
"You know," she leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're really hard to find. No one knows much about you. You don't come in very often, and I barely remember the name you said, since I was kind of--you know--out of it? My friends were too busy dragging me home to party, to help me forget my near-brush with death. I've been asking everyone who might know you just who you are, and how I could get in touch with you. Mike--you know, the bartender there? He said he gave you a beer on the house for saving one of his best customers, so they didn't have to close the joint. Ha ha. Big comedian, that guy. He said you only come in every couple of weeks. He thought it was always on a Tuesday. Well since I only live a couple of blocks away, I'm in here almost every night. If I have a theme paper due the next day, then I'm up all night researching and writing. I'm an English major. Did I mention that? Anyway, I knew I'd see you in here again sooner or later. So I've been watching for you every night, and now here you are!" She smiled triumphantly at him.
Stunned, Marcus just stared, not sure if a response was called for.
"So," she continued. "You know, I do breathe every now and then, and that's your cue to talk if you want to. But if you don't, that's okay too. I'll just keep on talking. Anyway, I wanted to think of something I could do to really thank you for saving my life and all. If I could cook, I'd make you dinner. But I'm not really very good in the kitchen. If I could bake, I'd make you cookies--but ditto there. I don't know you well enough to write you a poem. Besides, that's really cheesy, considering you saved my life and all. But there is something I'm really good at." She paused, really looking at him, studying him, as if he were a bug under a microscope.
He shifted around in his seat, trying to unobtrusively adjust himself without using his hands,
"You're kind of a quiet guy, aren't you?"
He nodded, still unable to make words come out. His cock throbbed angrily against the zipper of his jeans, accusing him of neglect. The smell of her perfume and her skin was intoxicating him, and he was afraid that if she leaned any closer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from throwing her across the table and tearing her clothes off. He tried not to stare at her erect nipples that were threatening to tear holes in her tee shirt. But he was still blushing from what he was imagining, so it was difficult to look her in the eye.
"But you are kind of cute, in an under-fed, nerdy kind of way. Tell you what, dude. What I'm really good at, is screwing. In fact I'm trying to get the college to let me minor in it." She gave him a mischievous grin.
His jaw dropped open.
"So, if you're up for it, let's finish our beers. Then we can stroll back to my place, where I conveniently have more beer in the fridge. Then I can really thank you for saving my life. How's that?"
* * * * Copyright 2021, Fiona McGier * * * *
Read more about this book at: www.rlfblog.com/fiona-mcgier-020321/
CoffeetimeRomanceReviewer DeLane gave it 4 stars!
coffeetimeromance.com/bookreviews/two-for-tuesday-by-fiona-mcgier/
Lisabet Sarai, author of erotic romance, reviewed it--
"The plot in Two for Tuesday is quite simple and like most romance, the outcome is never in doubt. Still, you’ll enjoy the path to Melanie’s and Marcus’ happy ending...Two for Tuesday will leave you feeling satisfied – maybe even a bit smug – as the each of the characters gets what he or she richly deserves."
lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2021/03/review-tuesday-two-for-tuesday-by-fiona.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BeyondRomance+%28Beyond+Romance%29
Buy link: www.extasybooks.com/two-for-tuesday
Universal buy link: books2read.com/u/3n8RAP
*********************************************************************************
When a world-famous cardiologist has his personal life going up in flames, he seeks out the "one who got away." She's tried to forget him, but he didn't get to be rich and famous by not pursuing his dreams. And she's never been good at saying, "No."
Set up for excerpt: How did he meet her? Marcus only allows himself to go into town to a bar every other Tuesday, for one beer. Then he has to head back to the dorm room he shares with another medical grad student, to dive back into his endless homework. But one night in the bar he hears yelling to indicate a woman is choking. He rushes over to her and performs the Heimlich maneuver on her. Right after that, her girlfriends rush her out of there. He figures he'll never see her again.
Two weeks later, Marcus walked into town again after dinner in the dorm, and used what little profit he had left-over from his twice-monthly government-issued living expenses check, and bought himself a beer. He looked around for familiar faces to sit with. When he didn't see any, he sought out an open chair and sat down at a table by himself. He was just starting his regular habit of brooding over his lot in life, when one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen crossed the dance floor, staring directly at him.
How can she manage to walk and move her hips like that, without spilling any of her beer? Her smile says she knows she looks like a wet-dream walking. What the hell does she want from me? His long-ignored desires flared to life. He was incapable of coherent thought while the blood rapidly abandoned his brain.
"Hi. You're Dr. Marcus, aren't you?" She smiled at him as if she already knew the answer.
"Uh, yea. I'm Marcus. But I'm not a doctor yet.” He was grateful that his dark skin would hide the blush that he could feel creeping up his body, as he responded to her overwhelming sexuality.
"Well, I'm Melanie. You saved my life a couple of weeks ago, remember?" She pantomimed choking, while grasping her throat with both hands.
"I remember."
"Can I sit down? Thanks." She oozed into the chair next to Marcus and scooted it closer to him.
"You know," she leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're really hard to find. No one knows much about you. You don't come in very often, and I barely remember the name you said, since I was kind of--you know--out of it? My friends were too busy dragging me home to party, to help me forget my near-brush with death. I've been asking everyone who might know you just who you are, and how I could get in touch with you. Mike--you know, the bartender there? He said he gave you a beer on the house for saving one of his best customers, so they didn't have to close the joint. Ha ha. Big comedian, that guy. He said you only come in every couple of weeks. He thought it was always on a Tuesday. Well since I only live a couple of blocks away, I'm in here almost every night. If I have a theme paper due the next day, then I'm up all night researching and writing. I'm an English major. Did I mention that? Anyway, I knew I'd see you in here again sooner or later. So I've been watching for you every night, and now here you are!" She smiled triumphantly at him.
Stunned, Marcus just stared, not sure if a response was called for.
"So," she continued. "You know, I do breathe every now and then, and that's your cue to talk if you want to. But if you don't, that's okay too. I'll just keep on talking. Anyway, I wanted to think of something I could do to really thank you for saving my life and all. If I could cook, I'd make you dinner. But I'm not really very good in the kitchen. If I could bake, I'd make you cookies--but ditto there. I don't know you well enough to write you a poem. Besides, that's really cheesy, considering you saved my life and all. But there is something I'm really good at." She paused, really looking at him, studying him, as if he were a bug under a microscope.
He shifted around in his seat, trying to unobtrusively adjust himself without using his hands,
"You're kind of a quiet guy, aren't you?"
He nodded, still unable to make words come out. His cock throbbed angrily against the zipper of his jeans, accusing him of neglect. The smell of her perfume and her skin was intoxicating him, and he was afraid that if she leaned any closer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from throwing her across the table and tearing her clothes off. He tried not to stare at her erect nipples that were threatening to tear holes in her tee shirt. But he was still blushing from what he was imagining, so it was difficult to look her in the eye.
"But you are kind of cute, in an under-fed, nerdy kind of way. Tell you what, dude. What I'm really good at, is screwing. In fact I'm trying to get the college to let me minor in it." She gave him a mischievous grin.
His jaw dropped open.
"So, if you're up for it, let's finish our beers. Then we can stroll back to my place, where I conveniently have more beer in the fridge. Then I can really thank you for saving my life. How's that?"
* * * * Copyright 2021, Fiona McGier * * * *
Read more about this book at: www.rlfblog.com/fiona-mcgier-020321/
CoffeetimeRomanceReviewer DeLane gave it 4 stars!
coffeetimeromance.com/bookreviews/two-for-tuesday-by-fiona-mcgier/
Lisabet Sarai, author of erotic romance, reviewed it--
"The plot in Two for Tuesday is quite simple and like most romance, the outcome is never in doubt. Still, you’ll enjoy the path to Melanie’s and Marcus’ happy ending...Two for Tuesday will leave you feeling satisfied – maybe even a bit smug – as the each of the characters gets what he or she richly deserves."
lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2021/03/review-tuesday-two-for-tuesday-by-fiona.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BeyondRomance+%28Beyond+Romance%29
Buy link: www.extasybooks.com/two-for-tuesday
Universal buy link: books2read.com/u/3n8RAP
*********************************************************************************
Click for buy links.
The Right Choice
(Formerly published as The Reluctant Bride)
Pamela has a bad habit of running away when she doesn't feel she's getting enough attention. Or she doesn't want to face a situation.
When she was a young girl, her parents were busy being upwardly-mobile, so she often ran away from home, just to force them to focus on her for a change. In high school, she met a boy who captured her heart--but her parents disapproved of him because of his blue-collar background and job. When she went away to college, they hoped she'd forget about him. Instead, she'd sneak back home without telling them, to stay with him.
Once she'd graduated from college to start her veterinary practice, the boyfriend told her he was tired of having to sneak around to see her. He wanted them to date openly--but she was still afraid of her parents' reactions--so she ran away from him.
Now she's walking down the aisle to marry the successful lawyer her mom set her up with, and she sees him answer his cell phone while standing at the altar! Talk about not making her feel important! So she runs away again.
But where can she go to hide, where no one will be able to find her? She remembers a cabin owned by the old boyfriend's family. Does he still own it? Is he still single? Will he let her stay?
And is she finally ready to make the right choice for her own happiness?
Now out from Extasy Books: www.extasybooks.com/the-right-choice
Excerpt set up: Pamela's running away from her wedding is all over the news. Eric is the old boyfriend, who sees the news story, then decides to ride out after work, from Chicago to the Michigan lake shore--to the cabin he and his brother inherited.
Eric wasn’t sure what he was hoping for as he turned off of the highway, heading down the back roads that led to the family cabin he and his brother had inherited. They had made extra keys for their cousins on their Mom’s side of the family, all of whom lived out of state. But they were the principal owners, responsible for the upkeep and the taxes. And they were the ones who kept their personal belongings there, who kept the fridge stocked with beer and food, and the ones who took turns spending any vacation time they got in the one place they could truly relax in--their home away from home.
Was he hoping to find the place deserted? That would allow for him to have a relaxing weekend--sleeping late, and looking at the bikini-clad girls on the beaches. Or did he want her to be there? With all that would mean? He would have to listen to her talk about the man she had almost married, and the reasons that she had run away from him. And he would vacillate between insane jealousy of the man who had recently been having sex with her--and a vague feeling of superiority that she had run to him this time, not away from him.
But what would that really mean? If she ran to him, did that mean that she wanted to see him? That she missed him? That she would finally admit how much he meant to her? Or did it mean that she viewed him as a harmless eunuch, who would let her cry on his shoulder, then pat her awkwardly as she made up her mind to return to the lifestyle her mother had been grooming her for since birth?
And do I care? Eric pursed his lips as he made the last turn that led to the private driveway. Of course I care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have driven ninety miles an hour to get here, so I could see if she still thinks of this place--of spending time with me--as her shelter from the storm.
He looked with interest at the small car parked on the beach side of the cabin. It had Illinois plates--a hopeful sign. When he got close enough, he peered inside. It appeared to have someone inside of it. Asleep? With all of the noise that a Harley makes? He was grinning as he pulled up to the other side of the cabin, parked, and turned the motor off. He got off of the bike and stretched, his muscles cramped from riding for the past couple of hours. Jerkily he strode over to the car to examine it more closely. He saw her head lolled back, and heard, through the open windows, the sound of her snoring softly, but steadily enough to be heard over the sound of the lake.
So you did think of this place. And me. He almost chuckled with pleasure, before deciding against waking her up. He went around to the front door of the cabin and let himself in, to go in search of a cold beer to wash the dirt of the highway down his throat. He got some burgers out of the freezer to thaw for dinner, and spent some time thinking about what on earth he was going to say to her when she woke up.
(Pamela, meanwhile, is dreaming while she sleeps.)
Pamela moaned as she felt her excitement building. She was on her stomach, facing the bed, and being most gloriously pleasured by someone who really knew what he was doing. His hands were wrapped in her hair, and with strong, sure strokes, he withdrew, then entered her again, each time almost pushing her over the edge into screaming oblivion. She wriggled her ass appreciatively, and felt him shudder. He regained control over himself, and the withdraw-enter rhythm resumed. She was so busy concentrating on her own feelings, that she didn’t care who it was doing the work, as long as it continued.
This is a dream, but damn, what a great dream! I wonder who this fabulously satisfying man is? The realization that she was dreaming allowed her to take control of the action. Determinedly she pushed herself up, in order to turn around to see whose face she would be looking at--just who this mystery lover was that had her so hot that even in her dreams, she was dripping with heat and anticipation.
Reluctantly pausing while she turned over, the man bent his head down to lick, then suck at her nipples, one then the other, as she re-positioned herself under him. With an upwards thrust to her hips, she signaled her desire to be pleasured even more, with a full view of his face. He moaned, then thrust his hips forward to slam himself into her. Pamela fell over the edge into an extended multiple orgasm. Squeezing her eyes shut was the only way to concentrate on the feelings, to prolong them and make them more intense. She screamed as she rode the waves of pleasure, feeling herself clenching around the magic wand that this magician was wielding, feeling herself totally under his spell.
Finally she was able to breathe again, and she remembered that she was dreaming--and that his face was only inches from hers. All she had to do was open her eyes to see who the man of her dreams was. She opened her eyes to look at him. He raised his head, long black hair streaming down from his face in sweat-soaked strings, shadow of a beard darkening his face, and his blue eyes pierced through her heart. Eric? Even in my dreams?
* * * * Copyright 2020, Fiona McGier * * * *
Publisher's buy link: www.extasybooks.com/the-right-choice
Universal buy link: books2read.com/u/mdlrdZ
Read more about this book at: www.rlfblog.com/fiona-mcgier-011521/
CoffeetimeRomanceReviewer gave it 3 stars!
coffeetimeromance.com/bookreviews/the-right-choice-by-fiona-mcgier/
(Formerly published as The Reluctant Bride)
Pamela has a bad habit of running away when she doesn't feel she's getting enough attention. Or she doesn't want to face a situation.
When she was a young girl, her parents were busy being upwardly-mobile, so she often ran away from home, just to force them to focus on her for a change. In high school, she met a boy who captured her heart--but her parents disapproved of him because of his blue-collar background and job. When she went away to college, they hoped she'd forget about him. Instead, she'd sneak back home without telling them, to stay with him.
Once she'd graduated from college to start her veterinary practice, the boyfriend told her he was tired of having to sneak around to see her. He wanted them to date openly--but she was still afraid of her parents' reactions--so she ran away from him.
Now she's walking down the aisle to marry the successful lawyer her mom set her up with, and she sees him answer his cell phone while standing at the altar! Talk about not making her feel important! So she runs away again.
But where can she go to hide, where no one will be able to find her? She remembers a cabin owned by the old boyfriend's family. Does he still own it? Is he still single? Will he let her stay?
And is she finally ready to make the right choice for her own happiness?
Now out from Extasy Books: www.extasybooks.com/the-right-choice
Excerpt set up: Pamela's running away from her wedding is all over the news. Eric is the old boyfriend, who sees the news story, then decides to ride out after work, from Chicago to the Michigan lake shore--to the cabin he and his brother inherited.
Eric wasn’t sure what he was hoping for as he turned off of the highway, heading down the back roads that led to the family cabin he and his brother had inherited. They had made extra keys for their cousins on their Mom’s side of the family, all of whom lived out of state. But they were the principal owners, responsible for the upkeep and the taxes. And they were the ones who kept their personal belongings there, who kept the fridge stocked with beer and food, and the ones who took turns spending any vacation time they got in the one place they could truly relax in--their home away from home.
Was he hoping to find the place deserted? That would allow for him to have a relaxing weekend--sleeping late, and looking at the bikini-clad girls on the beaches. Or did he want her to be there? With all that would mean? He would have to listen to her talk about the man she had almost married, and the reasons that she had run away from him. And he would vacillate between insane jealousy of the man who had recently been having sex with her--and a vague feeling of superiority that she had run to him this time, not away from him.
But what would that really mean? If she ran to him, did that mean that she wanted to see him? That she missed him? That she would finally admit how much he meant to her? Or did it mean that she viewed him as a harmless eunuch, who would let her cry on his shoulder, then pat her awkwardly as she made up her mind to return to the lifestyle her mother had been grooming her for since birth?
And do I care? Eric pursed his lips as he made the last turn that led to the private driveway. Of course I care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have driven ninety miles an hour to get here, so I could see if she still thinks of this place--of spending time with me--as her shelter from the storm.
He looked with interest at the small car parked on the beach side of the cabin. It had Illinois plates--a hopeful sign. When he got close enough, he peered inside. It appeared to have someone inside of it. Asleep? With all of the noise that a Harley makes? He was grinning as he pulled up to the other side of the cabin, parked, and turned the motor off. He got off of the bike and stretched, his muscles cramped from riding for the past couple of hours. Jerkily he strode over to the car to examine it more closely. He saw her head lolled back, and heard, through the open windows, the sound of her snoring softly, but steadily enough to be heard over the sound of the lake.
So you did think of this place. And me. He almost chuckled with pleasure, before deciding against waking her up. He went around to the front door of the cabin and let himself in, to go in search of a cold beer to wash the dirt of the highway down his throat. He got some burgers out of the freezer to thaw for dinner, and spent some time thinking about what on earth he was going to say to her when she woke up.
(Pamela, meanwhile, is dreaming while she sleeps.)
Pamela moaned as she felt her excitement building. She was on her stomach, facing the bed, and being most gloriously pleasured by someone who really knew what he was doing. His hands were wrapped in her hair, and with strong, sure strokes, he withdrew, then entered her again, each time almost pushing her over the edge into screaming oblivion. She wriggled her ass appreciatively, and felt him shudder. He regained control over himself, and the withdraw-enter rhythm resumed. She was so busy concentrating on her own feelings, that she didn’t care who it was doing the work, as long as it continued.
This is a dream, but damn, what a great dream! I wonder who this fabulously satisfying man is? The realization that she was dreaming allowed her to take control of the action. Determinedly she pushed herself up, in order to turn around to see whose face she would be looking at--just who this mystery lover was that had her so hot that even in her dreams, she was dripping with heat and anticipation.
Reluctantly pausing while she turned over, the man bent his head down to lick, then suck at her nipples, one then the other, as she re-positioned herself under him. With an upwards thrust to her hips, she signaled her desire to be pleasured even more, with a full view of his face. He moaned, then thrust his hips forward to slam himself into her. Pamela fell over the edge into an extended multiple orgasm. Squeezing her eyes shut was the only way to concentrate on the feelings, to prolong them and make them more intense. She screamed as she rode the waves of pleasure, feeling herself clenching around the magic wand that this magician was wielding, feeling herself totally under his spell.
Finally she was able to breathe again, and she remembered that she was dreaming--and that his face was only inches from hers. All she had to do was open her eyes to see who the man of her dreams was. She opened her eyes to look at him. He raised his head, long black hair streaming down from his face in sweat-soaked strings, shadow of a beard darkening his face, and his blue eyes pierced through her heart. Eric? Even in my dreams?
* * * * Copyright 2020, Fiona McGier * * * *
Publisher's buy link: www.extasybooks.com/the-right-choice
Universal buy link: books2read.com/u/mdlrdZ
Read more about this book at: www.rlfblog.com/fiona-mcgier-011521/
CoffeetimeRomanceReviewer gave it 3 stars!
coffeetimeromance.com/bookreviews/the-right-choice-by-fiona-mcgier/