Celebrating my Bookiversary! #Giveaway (Elvis and @Incoco nail strips)

Last year, Kiss Me released on February 5, leading me down the merry rocking and rolling Elvisy path to Stuck on You, Can’t Help Falling in Love, and Santa, Bring My Baby Back. What a great year it’s been! To celebrate, I’ve got this neat giveaway. The contest runs until February 17 (and is just the first one…I have more…mwa-ha-ha!) The Rafflecopter link is HERE: a Rafflecopter giveaway

CLICK TO ENTER!

WHAT YOU COULD WIN:

Signed copy of Santa, Bring My Baby Back, Elvis bag, Manicure set, 3 bottles of nail polish, Nail decals, Two sets of Incoco nail strips (Pink Polka Dots Sweetie Pie and First Crush)

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Santa, Bring My Baby Back, Chapter 2 Excerpt: New man, new plan, fresh lipstick

Santa Bring My Baby Back(Available now. Amazon Link:::Barnes and Noble Link:::Indiebound Link)

All the way around the pool area with its cheery inflatable snowmen and flashing candy canes and down the long hallway decorated with album covers and three different themed Christmas trees, Grace rehearsed her lines in her head. She was going to need a job, a place to stay, and some time to pay her hotel bills. Checking all three off the list might take some finesse.

Grace paused in the doorway of Viva Las Vegas to give her eyes a chance to adjust to the change from the bright lobby to the darker restaurant. Her first impressions were of lush plants—a theme at the hotel—and some rocking Elvis tune competing with the clinks of silverware on plates and low conversations. A very cute, very young hostess dressed as a showgirl in Santa’s workshop pointed her toward the bar. When Grace dumped all her baggage in a seat and draped the dress over the top, she noticed Charlie, but he didn’t look up from his plate.

Thanks to his concentration, Grace had a chance to observe him before she announced her presence. His crisp white dress shirt and black tie were covered by a large cloth napkin, which might also be a tablecloth in real life. She appreciated his broad shoulders and the flex of muscles in his back as he twisted on the seat. The edges of his sleeves were white flashes as he made steady progress of clearing his plate with quick bites, not like he was in a hurry, but took pride in efficient operation. And his long legs were propped up on the brass footrest that ran along the bottom of the bar. His slicked back black hair was probably the stillest part of his body. Charlie seemed capable. Strong. Solid. For some reason, she had the urge to wrap her hand around his arm and maybe rest her head on his shoulder.

Not exactly what she expected from a man with rock-star good looks and enough gunk in his hair to preserve his style in a tornado.

She patted her own, slightly crunchy updo and decided to give him props for that. It showed commitment.

When he’d opened her dressing room door, the first thing she saw were his dark brown eyes. For a minute, she’d been frozen by the connection. Then she’d noticed his Elvis-like hair and had to wonder what his story was.

Santa, Bring My Baby Back, Excerpt Chapter 1: Gold lame and a gold digger?

Santa Bring My Baby Back

Releases December 17 (Amazon Link:::Barnes and Noble Link:::Indiebound Link)

Charlie rolled his head from one side to the other, straightened his shoulders, and then fought his way out of the shiny gold jacket. He slipped it on the hanger in the small dressing room behind the stage and then carefully closed the door. He stretched his arms and soaked in the bright winter sunlight streaming through the windows.

When his stomach growled again, he hit the door to the lobby with a stiff arm, set on getting back to his own schedule. After four determined steps, he stopped. He could see a line of light under the door to the bridal suite.

Charlie mentally cursed again. Something about that light told him this was going to be more trouble than a man who hadn’t eaten in over four hours should attempt to deal with. He’d sent his assistant for the day out to check on the bride and groom earlier. When she’d come back to say the rooms were dark, he’d sent her on to lunch. He should have followed, obviously. If that light represented his late bride and groom, his schedule would be off for the rest of the day.

After two perfunctory knocks, Charlie turned the knob and shoved open the door.

He froze on the spot when he saw the bride seated in a froth of wedding dress. Like a priceless work of art, she was lit by a spotlight that highlighted the flawless creamy skin of her bare shoulders, the gleam in her dark hair, and her bright red lips. When his eyes met hers in the mirror’s reflection, he couldn’t remember just exactly what he thought he might say to the inconsiderate bride or groom if he ever found either of them. His schedule was forgotten. He was lucky to remember to breathe in and out.

“Aw, crap, he ain’t comin’, is he?”

A small frown wrinkled the pale skin of her brow and something about her east Tennessee twang set everything back in motion.

He reached up to run his hand through his hair but hit crunchy product and decided to rub his neck like that was what he’d intended all along. “I was hoping that you could tell me. What happened to your groom?”

“Well, I can’t say I exactly expected this, but I ain’t as shocked as I should be either.” She gave him a wide smile that didn’t quite look genuine, but he liked it a whole lot better than tears. “Tommy Joe told me he’d meet me over here, knock on the door when he was ready. Since he’s always late, I expected to wait a bit but . . .”

She shrugged, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from being drawn back under her spell as light played across the pale skin of her shoulders and chest. She stood gracefully and smoothed the sides of her elegant wedding dress. Her hourglass figure was outlined faithfully by the dress and accented by dainty hands she propped on her hips. “He didn’t sound like a man looking forward to his weddin’. Cold feet set in, I imagine. My hook wasn’t set, and I guess he wriggled off.”

Charlie frowned as he considered her answer. He fought back the urge to ask what kind of fool would wriggle off her hook. A man might not know he was caught until it was too late . . .  but what a way to go.