^^^ And I Give You...On the Mountain ^^^

I can't believe it! >>> It's release day >>> Hooray!

Phew. now that's out of my system, we can get on with things. In case you missed it, I just jumped up and down like a monkey on a pogo stick, tossing confetti EVERYWHERE! It was quite the scene I tell ya, only now I have to clean it up. Sigh. 

It's wild to me that just last February I launched To the Sea, the first novel in this sorta-series. By sorta, I mean To the Sea was a stand alone. But then once I pubbed, I simply couldn't get off the Follow your Bliss train. I'd nabbed my own dream, and we were going places...where, well, at the time I just didn't know how wonderful it is to write my heart out (then edit till I'm blobular. Yes, blobular.) and then put the outcome out into the world. 

And today is just such a day, so here, I present to you (hang on, I have to lean in and whisper something to this little book of mine, Go, go and do great things, keep readers awake at night reader, inspire and brighten the days of all who meet your pages.) Here we go...

On the Mountain!

Amazon >>> Goodreads

Here's an excerpt...

The smell of lasagna baking in the oven lured Baskia into the kitchen a couple hours later. She uncorked a bottle of wine hoping to chase away reminders of her headache. Trace had set the table for two and candlelight burned softly between the place settings.

“Will you join me?” he asked.

“How’d you know my favorite?” Homemade lasagna had the potential to earn  him forgiveness.

His rough around the edges appearance and moody demeanor didn’t keep with details like candles and cloth napkins. If she’d been anywhere else, she’d have said so long to him, but there was no escaping him in the cabin, she was rooted there. And the meal 
smelled irresistible.

They didn’t say much while they ate, but Baskia noted the silence wasn’t awkward like with Wes. Of course, she wanted to ask what he’d meant when he said he was dealing with some shit, but instead they made conversation about her return trip to New York after Thanksgiving, a few of the books they’d both read, and their wine preferences. By the time they were done and the grandfather clock struck twelve, Baskia glowed with the satisfaction of a good meal shared in good company.

“Thanks,” she said before retiring to her room.

“No, thank you,” he said, meaningfully. With that, he blinked off the light. 

I'll toast to that. Cheers!

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