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Amy Rose Bennett: Long Gone Girl

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About Long Gone Girl

The girl Ginny Williams used to be is long gone…

After returning home from the Korean War a widow, former MASH surgical nurse, Ginny Williams, heads to the Jersey Shore for a weekend of much needed R&R. But her plans to do nothing more than relax on the beach go seriously awry when the boy who broke her heart on Prom night nine years ago—the now hotter-than-hot ‘fly-boy’ Jett Kelly—shows up on her patch of sand. To make matters worse, Captain Kelly seems to be on a mission to win her trust, and maybe even her heart again. But the last thing Ginny wants is a man—especially one like Jett—in her life. She’s a career nurse now, and that’s that. If only Jett wasn’t so damned charming and attractive…

US air force pilot, Captain Jefferson ‘Jett’ Kelly Junior is blown away to have stumbled across the beautiful yet shy and bookish girl he used to have a huge crush on in high school—especially now that Ginny is all grown up and sexy as hell. Problem is, she’s also not backward in coming forward when letting him know she hasn’t forgiven him for the Prom-kiss-gone-wrong incident. Even though Jett knows he’ll have his work cut out for him to get a second chance with her, he’s definitely going to give it his best shot…

Despite Ginny’s determination to keep her head—she’s certainly not the naïve girl she used to be—when Jett starts to unashamedly woo her, she soon realizes that maybe her heart didn’t get the memo…

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“Ginny O’Hara? God, is that really you?”

Cover_Long Gone Girl copyGinny cracked open an eyelid and squinted up at the dark shadow—enormous, dark, male shadow—looming over her. What the hell?

Heart in her mouth, she pushed herself up to a sitting position on her beach towel then tipped down her sunglasses so she could peer over the top—only to be confronted with her worst nightmare. Jett Kelly was at the Shore. And she was wearing nothing but sunglasses, a bathing suit and now a bright red blush.

Oh no, no, no. How unlucky could she be? Of all the places in the state of New Jersey that Jett Kelly could have gone, why had he shown up exactly here? While she was sun bathing. Vulnerable didn’t even begin to describe the way she felt—she may as well have been sitting on the beach stark naked.

And to make matters worse, he was only wearing bathing trunks as well. Do not look down. Do not look down. Just look at his face.

She swallowed, then somehow scraped together a voice that was passably clear if not confident. “Yes, but it’s Williams. Ginny Williams now…” Keep it together, Ginny. You’ve seen thousands of men wearing a lot less. She thrust out her hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Jett.” Well that was a big fat lame lie. And he knew it.

He smiled slowly, and even though he was wearing aviator sunglasses, she knew the smile mustn’t have reached his bluer-than-the-sky eyes. But he took her hand and shook it anyway. “Same.”

Dear God, what an idiot she must look, shaking hands with Adonis personified at the beach. She pulled her hand from his firm grasp, desperately trying to ignore the searing heat that had shot from her fingers straight to the apex of her thighs, making her want to squirm.

Stop it, Williams. You’re all grown up now, remember? A hardened field-surgical nurse.

Jett’s grin broadened, as if he was reading her mind. “You’re looking well.” Even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his sunglasses, she felt his gaze drifting over her polka-dot bikini clad body.

“So are you.” Which was an understatement to say the least. Despite her determination not to notice anything about Jett Kelly’s physique, she’d have to be dead not to. Wide shoulders, sleek golden skin over well-defined muscles—she could name every one—lean hips… She stalwartly resisted the urge to glance lower at the front of his trunks and dragged her gaze back to his annoyingly, too handsome face. “So…”

“Do you mind if I pull up a pew?” He gestured at the sand beside her.

Yes! “I was just thinking of leaving actually,” she said through a tight smile. “A girl shouldn’t get too much sun. You know, fair skin and all.” The audacity of the man. She’d all but told him she was married, but here he was, about to make himself at home on her quiet patch of beach. The man was unbelievable! He hadn’t changed one iota since high school.

He grinned. “I could help you with that lotion you’ve got there.”

Once a jerk, always a jerk apparently. “I don’t think so.” Ginny grabbed her floppy hat, shoved it onto her head then stuffed her Bain du Soleil sun lotion and novel into her calico beach bag. She stood, snagging her beach towel up as she rose. “Well, it was nice—”

He touched her arm. “Don’t go.”

Ginny jumped as though she’d been scalded and dropped her gaze to where his hand lay on her forearm. His long fingers were tanned against her own pale skin. She half suspected there were burn marks underneath.

He took off his aviators. Mesmerizing blue eyes, bluer than she remembered, trapped her gaze. “Don’t go on my account,” he repeated softly, his voice as rich and deep as the purr of the car he drove. “I’m just here to go for a swim anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

About the Author

AuthorPic_Long Gone Girl copyAmy Rose Bennett has always wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.

Amy is happily married to her own Alpha male hero, has two beautiful daughters, a rather loopy Rhodesian Ridgeback and a Devonshire Rex cat with attitude. She is a Speech Pathologist, but is currently devoting her time to her one other true calling—writing romance.

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Robert Fanshaw and “Shameless Exposure”

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Author Robert Fanshaw gives the background to his latest ebook release, Shameless Exposure, a steamy romantic comedy, and the second novel in the Shameless series.

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????GIVEAWAY ALERT!  As it’s Christmas, Robert will email you an unpublished short story, Blue Muse, which tells how a country walk turned into something more. It also explains how Caroline rekindled her relationship with famous artist, Erik Bellinker. Just visit his website www.mywifecaroline.com and send a message by email.

Thank you, Susana, for letting me drop into the Morning Room for a second time.  It feels like visiting a friend. It’s six months since my last appearance (25th June), and what a lot has happened since then. Once my wife Caroline had got over the shock of the publication of Shameless Ambition she started taking an interest in what I was writing. She decided writing was easy and couldn’t understand why I made such a fuss about it. She began contributing ideas for the new book, Shameless Exposure.

Ideas were okay, but then she started writing sections herself, basing her work on things she said had happened to her and suggesting I put them in the book. I lost track of what was real and what was fantasy, but the reader can make her or his own mind up on that one. In the end, I included the two chapters she wrote, using them to bookend the story as the first and last chapters of the novel. I also included Caroline’s experiences as an artist’s model. She posed naked for the rich and prize winning artist Erik Bellinker, supposedly for charity. The chance meeting on the train between them was the catalyst not only for a lurid life painting, but also for the plot of Exposure.

Caroline’s dalliance with the bohemian art set brought her into contact with a minor member of the Royal Family and an animal spirit cult which has centres in London and Scotland. For a while, everyone who is anyone was talking about it, because it appeared to offer a guaranteed route to improving the sexual fulfilment of the female half of the population. This wouldn’t be the place to go into details, but a small machine worn on the wrist, the Orgatron, is used to build a state of heightened sexual tension at which point the animal spirit (a panther, but some called it a giant pussy) is supposed to appear. For some women it did, and the month long programme in a castle on a remote Scottish island became popular with acolytes from all walks of life.

Models found the diet of mung beans and yellow foods ideal for losing weight. Media types and businesswomen, stressed out by tight deadlines, found a means to relax in the company of other women. As a man, I hesitate to comment on the animus vagismus, but the pagan practices of the cult leader, Regina Heart, are revealed in all their climactic glory at the conjunction of the full moon and the winter solstice.

How did Caroline know Erik Bellinker in the first place? If you would like to know, just drop me an email and I will send you the story.




The National Portrait Gallery in London is the location for the charity auction of a series of life studies by famous artists on the theme of the months of the year. Caroline is Miss November, Erik is the artist, and Princess Fiona of East Anglia is the patron of the charity which will benefit.

“But before I give everything away,” continued the princess, “it is my great pleasure to declare the online bidding open for these unique works of art, and to ask each of the models to pull the curtain back on their likenesses for the first time in public.”

Caroline, Xena and the ten other artists’ models assumed their stations by the curtained pictures and awaited the signal from the chairman, who led the assembly on a countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Princess Fiona left the podium and slipped to the back of the stage with one of her ladies-in-waiting, beneath the thirteenth painting.

“Three, two, one. Miss January, please.” Miss January pulled the chord and revealed herself in goose bumped glory. The audience applauded nervously, unsure how enthusiastic they were supposed to be when faced with bare flesh in front of royalty. As each painting was revealed, the applause grew more confident. When Xena’s likeness was exposed in all its lush summer glow, a raucous male cheer was added to the clapping. Xena smiled slightly, knowing that Erik had captured something true.

Caroline grew anxious as summer turned to autumn. Miss October had been painted by Cecil Sharpe. In his youth he had been dubbed the Yorkshire Picasso, his paintings and sculptures, according to the gallery notes, charting the fracturing of traditional relationships between men and women. In his dotage, he had mellowed, seeming to enjoy the female form as an object of desire, tinged with humour and regret (according to the gallery notes) that something so lovely was slipping beyond his grasp. To the philistines who made up the bulk of the audience and hadn’t read the notes, Miss October was simply a stunner in the act of discarding her nurse’s uniform.

It was Caroline’s turn to pull the chord. Not for the first time she had doubts about the wisdom of her decision to reveal herself so completely. Caroline looked nervously over to Robert. Antonia was holding his hand supportively. She shut her eyes as she drew back the curtain. She waited for the audience reaction. None came. Then a few hands clapped politely. She tentatively opened her eyes.

The newspaper art critics were grouped together. They looked to each other, mouths gaping like fish. They needed a leader. Was it good or was it terrible? Was it clever or was it obscene? Then Benjamin Cummerbund from The Times leaped to his feet and shouted “Bravo!”

The audience gave a sigh of relief that it was considered acceptable to enjoy such an explicitly sexual work. Thank God it was art and not pornography. Caroline turned round to see what Erik had done to her. He hadn’t made her look horrible after all. He had removed all the work tension from her posture and had her loose and inviting on the couch, every sensuous brushstroke applied in loving realist detail.  Her hands went to her face to hide her blushes, and as soon as the cameras and the attention moved on to December, she slipped back to her seat next to Robert and Antonia.

“I wouldn’t mind having that on my wall,” said Antonia. “Do you think it would fit above my bed? I think I’ll make a bid.” Antonia rummaged for her phone and looked up the on-line auction. “Perhaps not, you’re already over a quarter of a million.”

“You see, Robert, it was in a good cause,” said Caroline

About Robert Fanshaw

photo_65994_20111204I am a barrister and married, despite everything, to my beautiful wife Caroline. Writing is more than a hobby; it’s what keeps me sane because my job is not as glamorous as people think. Commercial law is like being in the army; there are long periods where nothing happens then suddenly all hell is let loose. Rather like my marriage.

I had a book about the law published years ago, but my first novel Shameless Ambition was much more fun to write. I can’t really claim credit for the idea. Life provided me with Caroline, my wife. The banking crisis provided the plot. All I had to do was write it down and use my imagination for the parts where Caroline refused to go into details. The first two books push the boundaries of memoir and I suspect that fiction will eventually take over completely. I’m working on the third novel now. It’s about gambling and match-fixing and will be ready in time for the football World Cup. Yes, you guessed the title, Shameless Corruption.

 About Shameless Exposure

Just when she thought her marriage to Robert was back on track, Caroline bumps into an old flame and agrees to pose naked for a charity painting. Matters are made worse when her American boss starts sending lewd texts. When she rejects his overtures, he accuses her of gross misconduct and she is suspended from the job she loves. Deprived of everything that matters to her, she seeks comfort in an animist cult run by Regina Heart, which puts women in touch with their animal spirits. Regina claims to be Caroline’s natural mother and wants to elevate her to the priesthood, but this requires a terrifying initiation on a remote Scottish island. It is left to Robert to battle through a stormy night to try to save her from demons, real and imagined.


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Interview With Fantasy Author Loretta Laird and “The Passer”

Today my guest is Loretta Laird, author of The Passer. Please tell us a little about yourself, Loretta.

eyeMy name is Loretta Laird and I write fantasy romance.

I am a romance-aholic! I love to get lost in a book though seldom get the opportunity being a busy mum. I enjoy cooking, mostly cakes as that’s what I love to eat. My ambition is to buy a cabin by a lake and sit and write all day, creating worlds and stories that are enjoyed by many.

What inspired you to start writing?

I just thought I would give it a try and see what happened. I think turning 40 made me want to give something new a go.

How long have you been writing?

About a year.

What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

If you’ve got a story inside that wants to get out, set it free! Always good to have an honest friend that will give their opinion – not just one who tells you what you want to hear!

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

Yes, I do. I work full-time so I am not always in the mood when I sit down at night. I find it helps to re-read the work I did the night before then it sometimes inspires me. If not, I just switch off and do something else. Usually, I then find that I can’t sleep as ideas bombard me at night!

What comes first: the plot or the characters?

The plot, with me. The characters just grow from there. Then I like to go back and give them a back story.

Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

The chemistry between the two main characters is electric and I loved the sexual tension that built up.

Are you working on something at present that you would like to tell us about?

The second book in the trilogy and a story about a woman who finds herself in court tried with running a brothel. It is called M.I.L.F.

What are you reading now?

I am reading Matilda with my daughter.

What author or authors have most influenced your writing?

Julie Garwood tells a ripping historical love story and Christopher Paolini is a talented writer of fantasy.

What is your work schedule like when writing?

Busy! I work full-time and have 4 daughters so not much time left for anything else.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

A teacher. That is what I am!

What is your favorite food? Why?

It’s got be cake. I just love the luxury and comfort of it.

What would we find under your bed?

Nothing! I have just moved in to a new house and it is still spotless. Ask me again in 3 months.

If your publisher offered to fly you anywhere in the world to do research on an upcoming project, where would you mostly likely want to go? Why?

Niagara Falls. I love the sound of all that water.

Do you have a favorite quote or saying?

“Come up and see mu sometime!’ Mae West

Describe the ideal romantic evening.

I don’t have them anymore; I just write about them!

About Fellnesia

Fellnisia is the setting of my book and I have created a world that I would love to live in. Kins are categorised by the colour of their eyes and they have characteristics unique to each group. Blue eyes are Water dwellers. They live in mountain hamlets near cool, clear mountain streams.

Green eyes are our Air dwellers. They live in treetops homes deep in lush green forests.

Brown-eyed kins are Earth and they are where our Passers warriors spring from. They live in villages at the base of The Fire Hills of Dargoon, home to the noble freegan who are dragon-like beasts that have been enslaved by the evil Greenflack.

About The Passers

From the dawn of time, the passing of a soul has been treated with dignity and respect. The process of ‘passing’, where a soul leaves the body and travels to that of a trained warrior or Passer, has been the way of the land of Fellnesia for generations. The Passer’s task is to then transport the soul to its final resting place. That place is dependent on the kin of the deceased, Air, Water or Earth.

Untitled-2_edited-1One such kin, Air dwellers, find their beloved leader has died. His soul is duly ‘passed’ and, as his family mourn, Greenflack; a rival claimant to his throne arrives with an army bent on death to any remaining kinfolk. The young Passer king, Lambord, recklessly rescues Fernella, the beautiful young princess, from her certain doom.

Several years later, Jadara; a young girl born in the kin-home of Water faces her father and the truth of her birthright. She is the rightful heir of the Air kingdom that has been ruled so cruelly for many years by Greenflack.

Jadara must now face her destiny and embark upon on a quest with her childhood friend, Thanly, and the group of nomadic, tattooed Passers led by Lombard, her father.

Jadara learns to fight and love under the guidance of Adamen, a handsome young Passer, as she travels towards her destiny.

Betrayal and pain come her way before she finally faces Greenflack, saves her people and steps up to her destiny.


Adamen appeared with the carcass of a freshly slain dapple draped over his shoulder. Its antlers had been sliced through and were carried in his left hand, as was the custom for the killing of such a beast. Even animals had the right to a Passing and there were ways to respect the order of life. Removing the maleness of the creature ensured its passage to spirituality. Slinging the body of the creature to a nearby flat stone, Adamen withdrew his cleaned weapon and took up a stance worthy of his experience. He flashed Jadara a fearsome grin.

“Princess,” he confronted her with a quick bow. “Shall we?”

“Warrior,” she inclined her head whilst keeping her eyes on his and backing a safe distance away. Her pulse throbbed in her neck at the closeness of this raw male. He was obviously fresh from a hunt and this made him dangerously tense and alert.

Adamen sniffed the air, catching her scent on the soft breeze. He was a skilled hunter and could read the instincts of animals intuitively. His Earth upbringing close to the Fire Hills of Dargoon, served him well as a Passer. He had had to survive a harsh world since birth and only the fittest made it this far with Lambord. Adamen’s sire and older siblings, all boys, had trained him well so nothing could distract his focus in a fight. Nothing until now. The fresh smell of apple blossom on the wind caught him off guard. For a split second, his thoughts paused on how that scent would taste. That was enough for a sharp pain to course through his thigh. Amid hoots of laughter and taunts from his peers, Adamen saw the retreating blade of a bow sword. Sticky sweet blood seeped from his wound and trickled down towards his knee.

With a growl equal to a fire freegan, Adamen pounced, swinging his long sword over his head. Jadara was quick and dodged several potentially fatal blows before she felt a stinging in her shoulder. Lambord, who’d seen enough stepped forward and held his hand between the two.

“Peace!” he ordered. “Blood for blood and now rest.” He shot Adamen a warning glare just to ensure the younger man’s compliance.

Adamen nodded and offered his hand to Jadara. She extended hers then recoiled quickly as she felt the warm pulse that Adamen’s touch had stirred within her. It spread like liquid through her body and brought an instant blush to her cheeks.

Arrogant in his victory, Adamen’s smile widened at the response he had stimulated in Jadara. His own body hardened automatically at the attraction he felt.

Jadara looked away, furious with her body for betraying her in front of this warrior, again.

She stormed off into the woods with Lambord’s voice behind her saying, “We leave as soon as we mount up.”

Jadara walked until she reached the babbling stream and stood for a moment, allowing the rhythmic sounds to sooth her temper. She was unaccustomed to the feelings that betrayed her when Adamen was nearby. Thanly, her truest friend, deserved her loyalty and if anyone was to claim her as a Primary Mate, shouldn’t it be him?

As if to taunt her further, her skin began to prickle and her heart rate increased as she heard footsteps behind her.

“A lucky strike,” she murmured not turning her head for fear of the troublesome blush reappearing.

“I’m flattered you knew it was me,” teased Adamen crouching down to the stream with a white cloth in his hands. She watched as he soaked it through then squeezed it out, folding it over to make a pad. She gasped as he stood up, towered over her and applied the pad to her shoulder.

He mistook her gasp for pain and had the grace to look ashamed. “Does it hurt?” he asked gently.

“N..no,” she replied. “The water is just cold,” she added. The first thing she could think of to cover her true emotion.

“So brave,” he crooned, rubbing the cloth seductively over her shoulder and across her neck.

His lips were so close to her ear that the words made their own light caress across her cheek. He moved in closer and she turned her head towards his.

Adamen could fight it no longer, he leaned in to the soft lips before him and kissed.

It was hard to describe who was more shocked at Jadara’s passionate response. She returned his kiss with fervour, moving her lips in response to his. His kiss deepened and hardened and hers matched the pace. Her body pressed into his hard chest and a soft moan escaped from her.

“Damn!” cursed Adamen, pulling away and stepping back with his hand raking through his hair.






Author Jenny Brigalow and “A Man For All Seasons”

Letter from Seraphim (our heroine) to her elderly and much loved Nanny in England.

Dear Nanny M,

I know you’ll be surprised to receive this letter. I can scarce believe I’m writing it myself. But as you don’t have a mobile and I’m not sat in the morning room with you , I wanted to tell you how things are going.

First of all, I’m on the first leg of my flight to Australia. But I’m so disappointed because Chad’s not with me. Turns out he’s travelling economy. Can you imagine? It must be awful. I can hear a baby screaming from here. When I’ve finished this, I’m going to find him.

Just think, this time tomorrow I’m going to be in Queensland on my way to Chad’s property. He’s told me a lot about it, but it’s hard to imagine. The words hot and dusty pop up regularly, so I think I’m going to need that sunscreen. He asked me to go on a “muster” with him. I was too embarrassed to ask what that was, so I just agreed. Guess I’ll find out soon enough!

Is Mummy still furious? Have you seen Barry? I feel just terrible about the wedding. But I just know that marrying Barry would have been the biggest mistake of my life. I know it’s crazy, and that I haven’t known Chad very long, but I just fell head over heels.  He’s so confident and kind and handsome and … well, I think you’ll understand. At least, I hope so.

Anyway, the seatbelt lights pinged off so I’m off to find Chad. Oh, Nanny M, I feel so excited and so scared all at the same time. Things may not work out I know, but I plan to give it my best shot. I just can’t bear to let him go. And I think he feels the same.

Please  write soon, missing you already. Give my love to Dad and Mum.

All  my love,


About A Man For All Seasons

A Man For All Seasons300dpi-1When rodeo rider, Chad Cherub, steps off the plane at Heathrow, love is the last thing on his mind. He’s travelled from Australia to do a business deal with wealthy Walter Driscoll. However, he is distracted by  Wally’s gorgeous daughter Seraphim.

Sweet, spoiled Seraphim, a gifted dressage rider, is troubled. Engaged to the eminently suitable Barry Wellington-Worth, Chad’s arrival forces her to acknowledge the truth. She does not love her fiancé.

Chad and Seraphim fly south to Oz. But the secrets of the past and the prejudices of the present  threaten to tear them apart. Can love bloom in the Outback?


“You’re absolutely frozen,” he said.

She stared at him blankly for a minute until she realised he was quite right. Her toes were numb and the marrow in her leg bones seemed to throb in protest. Small spasms coursed through her body and she shivered like a sapling in the wind. But how could he know that it was nothing to do with the cold? How could he know that desire fizzed through her like a Catherine wheel? How could he know that her lips wanted to part to ask for a kiss? How could he know? The answer of course, was that she had to tell him.

She caught his wrist in her hand and looked at him. Her breath came in jagged bursts and she felt as if she would implode with need. “Warm me,” she whispered.

For an agonising eternity he remained frozen, his eyes locked in hers. And then his hand slid over the fall of her jaw and slowly encircled her throat. “I can feel your pulse,” he whispered. “It feels like a butterfly in a net.” Then he dropped his head and his mouth met hers, softly catching up her lower lip.

She tipped back her head, a small moan of ecstasy filtering through their union. Instinctively she moved into the unfamiliar realms of his body and her mouth began to explore. Heat flared in her core as his hands slid around her and pulled her close.

Tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence, she began to explore the iron hard muscles of his shoulders and back. Her legs felt so hollow that she believed she would fall without his hold upon her. Surrender beckoned with her mysterious smile.



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About the Author

700_8243I am a writer of rural romance, YA fiction, and more recently, literary fiction. In 2010, The Overlander, a teen novel, won a place in a competition co-run by Allen & Unwin and The Queensland Writers Centre.

Born in Britain, I arrived in Australia as a young woman in 1985 for an impromptu holiday and never left. I fell in love with the Australian bush, its unique flora and fauna and the colourful personalities that inhabit the country. I am presently situated on acreage close to Toowoomba in South East Queensland. I have been writing for six years and my rural romance, A Man For All Seasons, is now published with e-publisher Steam eReads.

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