In Which Roxie Goes To The Snow |
|
|
|
In this newsletter: last chance at a free anthology and a heads up about an incoming cover change! Also, I'm going to talk about weather and it might make you mad.
Before I start talking about the snow, I should warn you that I live in Los Angeles. I didn't grow up here (I grew up in Virginia, which technically gets snow, sometimes), but I've spent basically all my adult life in an environment that has never required me to own a snow shovel. This is by design, because I have no desire to shovel snow and think that seasons are overrated.
(However, as I type this, it's raining like hell in Southern California, so we do occasionally get weather. My granddad would've called this "a real frog-strangler.")
(Also, yes, there are parts of Los Angeles county that get snow sometimes because they're at elevation. I don't live in those parts. Please see above re: my feelings on snow.)
But a few years ago, when my kid was about three, my Los Angeles native husband introduced me to a long-standing LA tradition: going to the snow. (This is the phrase you use about it. It's a whole verb. "What did you do last weekend?" "Oh, we went to the snow." Everyone here understands what this means.)
To be clear, this isn't a weekend trip or a ski vacation. There is no overnight. You drive to the mountains, visit the snow for a couple hours, then go home once the sun starts going down. If you're my family, you stop at the Cuban bakery on the way home to buy one hundred of their delicious potato balls. Maybe you also stop and get hot chocolate somewhere because you did it once and now your child thinks it's mandatory, and who are you to argue about hot chocolate?
Anyway, we went to the snow last weekend and my five-year-old had a blast. He spent the entire two-hour car ride to the mountains talking about how he was going to throw snow balls at us, and then thoroughly delivered on that promise when we got there. He sledded head-first down the biggest hill he could find, and only knocked over one other kid the whole time. (It was the other kid's fault, for the record.) He made a billion snow angels and stomped around and made half a snow fort before he got distracted, and generally had an A+ Weather Experience.
And you know the best part about visiting the snow?
When we were done, we took out snow gear off, put it in the trunk, and drove back to a snow-free house. Also, the potato balls.
|
|
|
|
I feel like I can't say I went to the snow without providing photo proof, so please enjoy: this picture of The Snow. The spot where we always go is on Mount Baldy, and it's lovely and alpine-feeling and also close enough that we can easily do it in a day.
They've also gotten some crazy amount of snow this year (three feet? four feet?), so there were plenty of snowballs thrown.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Another snow tradition I've learned from my SoCal native husband: putting snow on the car and seeing if it lasts until you get home. (It doesn't.) According to him, when he was a kid they'd stack the snowballs on the car's antenna, but since cars don't really have antennas anymore, we used the windshield.
As you can see, I was very excited to Do Snow Science (the big one in the middle lasted the longest).
|
|
|
|
|
|
Here's to a lovely, warm, hot-chocolate-and-potato-ball-filled rest of your February. Ooh, it's a leap year!
Love,
Roxie
|
|
|
|
It's last call for this free anthology! Fourteen stories, one free book, tons of fun for everyone.
My story in this is called To Whom It May Concern, and it's about a man who has a decorative giant skeleton in his yard and the city employee whose job it is to answer angry letters about the skeleton. Obviously, they have a lot of sexual tension in a Wal-Mart and then fall in love. (It takes place in Sprucevale, which is in the Blue Ridge part of southwestern Virginia. The other option for late-night sexual tension was Dollar General.)
To Whom It May Concern is extremely low-angst and fairly high-heat for a short story. It's mostly about weirdos finding their weirdo romantic partner because of a giant skeleton. Also, Silas Flynn (from The One Month Boyfriend et al) makes a very small appearance.
Finally, please be aware that this is a newsletter anthology, meaning that to get it, you have to sign up for newsletters. Think of it as paying with your email address instead of money.
|
|
|
|
The Time Has Come: Ride is getting a new cover |
|
|
|
I will probably wax poetic at length about this in my next newsletter, so for now I'm just going to say: Ride, my cowboy romance (about a rodeo star and the photojournalist hired to do a story on him) is getting a new cover in about two weeks.
Nothing on the inside is changing (though I might put in fancy chapter headings or something), but the new cover is VERY different (and also fucking gorgeous, I'm so excited). But if you need to keep this man with his gold chain and attractive chin* in your life, there are three ways!
1. The high-res picture file on my website,
2. Buy the paperback from your favorite paperback retailer, or
3. Order a signed paperback from yours truly.
If you own the ebook, it will update to the new cover on your e-reader, so grabbing that file from my website is gonna be your best bet.
Seriously, though. I love the new cover.
(As a quick heads up: I'm also planning on updating the covers for Reign, Torch, and the Dirtshine trilogy in 2024, so if you want to get a head start on saving any of those covers, you've been warned!)
*tell me that's not a hot chin.
|
|
|
|
Did you know The Three Night Stand is coming this summer? |
|
|
|
She's the one night stand I never forgot. And now her dad is about to marry my mom.
It has to be some kind of cosmic joke, right? For once, I feel like I’ve got my life together—good job, great friends, a fresh start in a new place. I’ve been on my best behavior for ages. At last, everything’s coming up Javier.
Until the moment I walk into my stepdad’s house and meet his daughter.
I should say: I meet her again. Madeline and I have already met. It was one night, two years ago. A quick, casual hookup that had no right to be as mind-blowing as it was. I haven’t stopped thinking about it–or her–ever since.
But our parents are getting married, so under no circumstances should we sleep together again.
Or… again. Or one more time after that, just to get it out of our systems.
Madeline’s funny, fiery, and so gorgeous with her pink hair and nerdy tattoos that I can barely look at her without breaking into a sweat. But she has too much going on to be interested in commitment, and God knows I’m a bad boyfriend candidate.
Once the wedding’s over, we’ll be normal stepsiblings who don’t have sex with each other, and Thanksgiving won’t be awkward at all.
Right?
|
|
|
|
|
Michelle McCraw |
|
Frenemies and Lovers |
|
Fake partnership, real attraction, and one hilariously haute disaster waiting to happen...buckle up for this age-gap rom-com.
Carly Rose, forty-five and fiercely independent, is rebuilding her life. Newly divorced, she's determined to make her stylist business blossom, even with the thorn in her side: Audrey, her frenemy with a tongue sharper than her designer stilettos. Enter Andrew, Audrey's son, a charming blend of geek energy and fierce loyalty. Who happens to be Carly's completely off-limits secret one-night stand.
When a chance for Andrew's dream promotion hinges on a polished public image, he makes an unexpected proposition: a mutually beneficial charade. Carly, facing the gauntlet of her ex's destination wedding in Barcelona, agrees to become his pretend girlfriend. What starts as a carefully curated act evolves into stolen moments whispered over tapas, kisses in front of Gaudi fountains, and feelings as warm as a cashmere scarf on a crisp autumn day.
Caught between ambition and a forbidden yearning, Carly and Andrew navigate a minefield of sabotaged styling appointments; cringeworthy encounters with exes, bosses and disapproving mothers; plus the undeniable truth that attraction doesn't follow age brackets.
Swoon for this steamy standalone romantic comedy featuring fabulousness after forty, making friends with enemies, and finding love with a wildly inappropriate fake date.
(Shh, don't tell Audrey, but Andrew's dimples are definitely the hottest accessory this season.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Michelle Mankin |
|
Ghosts of the Canyon |
|
Welcome to the year 1969, a tumultuous year when the world and rock ’n’ roll were changing. Woodstock, war protests, free love, it’s all there, plus a rollercoaster romance that will have you frantically flipping pages to discover who this heroine chooses.
What Katelyn Love longs for most of all is a child. Someone to shower with the affection she never received from her parents. Haunted by a heartrending tragedy, she has to give up on those desires and her musical dreams.
Liam Hart is a big rock star. But the adoration of thousands of fans isn’t enough. He wants Katelyn’s love, for her to long for him like she once did, but he lost her and doesn’t know how to get her back.
Ryan Chance is a handsome and talented up-and-coming musician, the talk of LA Canyon. Just home from Vietnam, he arrives in Los Angeles, hoping to escape the pain of his past. His singular goal is to become a rock star. Success in the music business won’t erase his sins, but it’s his sole focus...until he meets Katelyn.
Two compelling men want to make Katelyn their own. One believes love means possession. The other doesn’t understand love at all, but he knows her.
Which one of them will tear down the wall around Katelyn’s heart, setting her free to live and love again?
Ghosts of the Canyon is a historical romance tapping into timeless themes that will surprise you and maybe even make you cry. Don’t read it if you are in the mood for a romantic comedy. But if you're searching for a sizzling romance with lots of sensual tension that will slam your emotions and send your spirit soaring, step back in time with Katelyn, Liam and Ryan.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Jacob Chance |
|
Evading the Enforcer |
|
My peaceful existence gets body-checked when a brooding, grumpy hockey player moves in next door…
The first time I meet Niall O’Rourke, he greets me, wearing little more than a scowl and a demeanor colder than the ice he skates on. My deeply ingrained Southern manners force me to give him the benefit of the doubt, but every interaction we share convinces me he’s a grade-A jerk.
I do my best to avoid him, that is, until he makes a proposition too good to refuse: I pretend to be his fiancée, and in return, he’ll appear on my local television show, which could give Bigfoot’s Hairy Tale the ratings bump needed for national syndication.
Despite our personalities clashing like hockey sticks, I discover beneath his brawny exterior is a man burdened by a complex past and a wounded heart.
But I’m not interested in “fixing” him. I’ve been down that road before, and it never ends well. If only Niall weren’t so hellbent on using his lips to convince me otherwise.
It’s going to take everything in me to evade the enforcer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I have three simple wishes:
1. Keep my houseplants alive.
2. Open a charming bed-and-breakfast in my small town.
3. Never see or speak to Beckett Valentine again.
None of those things are currently possible.
When Beckett decides he’s also interested in purchasing the Horseshoe Creek Ranch, my dreams of
owning a bed-and-breakfast become a nightmare. He refuses to give me what I want while playing
dirty—a common theme in our rivalry. Because of him, we’re in a ridiculous bidding war for the land.
We might have hated each other since our teens, but the stakes have never been so high.
And right now, I’m more determined than ever to take down my best friend’s older brother—cowboy
boots and all.
âś“ enemies to lovers
âś“ grumpy/sunshine
âś“ best friend's older brother
âś“ Southern small-town
âś“ feel-good read
|
|
|
|
|