Hi there fans of Susana’s Morning Room. It’s my pleasure to join you today. Thanks for inviting me, Susana.
I don’t blog hop very much these days. FB and my own blog keep me busy enough, and with autumn in the air I’d rather be enjoying the brisk breezes at the end of the sailing season and writing novels. I only have three in the works right now and one in promotion. Heh, heh, you knew I’d get to that one didn’t you. Well, I might as well mention the book in question now that I have your attention.
Ever hear the saying, “the grass is always greener etc.”? Ever feel that way in your own life? That could be a dangerous thought if you give it legs. It might call for Dangerous Decisions, which just happens to be the title of my fourth book.
Megan believes in loyalty and living up to one’s commitments, but her live-in boyfriend isn’t in very much these days. And then of course there’s that total stranger her four-year old daughter invited to move in with them. The dog-pound helper-outer? He seems to have a few secrets up his sleeve. Then again, it turns out the boy friend has a few too.
About Dangerous Decisions
Occasional snatches of conversation reached her from the bathroom as Jordan and Wade carried on their endless chitchat.
The man was very patient for darn sure. Why did he hang around them so much? Because of Jordan? Was he some kind of pervert who had fixed on her daughter? She shivered at the thought. He couldn’t be interested in her. Could he? A thrill ran up her back. Stop it, Megan Weston, you’re a mother and in a committed relationship. She stopped abruptly in the midst of slicing carrots.
The sounds from the bathroom had ceased and Megan strained to hear Jordan’s voice or Wade’s, or the sounds of tools being used on the broken door. Not a single bit of noise reached her ears.
He liked Jordan? Too much? Oh God! What was he doing in there?
She charged down the hall and threw open the bathroom door. Almost. The door flew open just a little bit before something very solid brought it to a halt. A loud thud was followed by a clatter as something metallic crashed to the tile floor.
“Owww! What the devil?” Wade yelled.
Megan cringed. Oh dear, what had she done?
She stuck her head through the partially open door and grimaced. Wade lay on the floor behind the door, a hand over his right eye, blood streaming down his nose. Across the room Jordan tried to restrain an agitated Betsy, who gave voice to her upset with loud barking. Jordan stared at Megan, a look of utter consternation on her face.
“You don’t believe in knocking, I gather,” Wade growled as he staggered to his feet and turned to face Megan.
Blood streamed from a gash at the bridge of his nose and he still held that hand to his eye. Jordan was absolutely fine. She’d half-killed Wade for nothing.
“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Let me get out of your way. Jordan, come on. Your Mommy has to use the bathroom.” He started to step around Megan, his hand still plastered against his eye.
“Oh, no that’s all right. Let me get something for that cut.”
He frowned then winced. “You don’t need to use the bathroom? I thought you were in a hurry.”
Heat rose to her face. How to explain she’d thought he was a pervert? She needed an excuse, another reason for braining him with the doorknob. Oh well, she could take the one he’d given her.
“Oh yes. I’m just upset. I have to pee.” Oh crap, why don’t you stick your foot in your mouth, Megan? Nobody said you had to be so specific.
There you go. That’s only the first calamity to befall our hero. That’s all about Dangerous Decisions for the moment. You can buy your ecopy at Amazon or at ARe.
You can also win a FREE copy in the GIVEAWAY starting today. Leave a comment. I’ll pop your names into a hat three days after this post first appears and then will choose one commenter at random. That person will receive a free copy of Dangerous Decisions with my best wishes.
About RC Bonitz
I’ve been writing forever, or so it seems sometimes. Long enough that I don’t recall my beginnings exactly, say about 1995. My first novel wasn’t intended to be a romance, but it almost came out that way. I killed the hero, though, an absolute no-no in romance, but it made for a good story. Since then I’ve never started out to write a romance, but they all keep coming out that way. Must be in the genes—my grandson still writes love poems to his wife. I’m a great-grandfather you see. Wonder what kind of romance a great-grandfather writes? Aha! You’ll have to read Dangerous Decisions to find out.