Thursday, May 29, 2008

Contest Winners

And the winners are:

From Sunday blog, May 25: ib
From Tuesday blog, May 27: wildchild
From Wednesday blog, May 28: Molly Daniels

Please contact me at to give me an address where I can send your prizes.
I am leaving tomorrow at 9 am and will try to check my emails all day until 3 pm from Atlanta airport. After that, I will be out of contact for two weeks and will post again on June 14. I will try to send your prizes tomorrow morning or as soon as I come back on June 14.

Thank you to all the participants for reading my blog and leaving a comment. I hope you enjoyed the excerpts. I will leave you with FRENCH PERIL's first love scene for two weeks while I am traveling in Italy. Keep posting your comments. I will have another drawing on Sunday, June 15 and the prize will be a gift I will buy especially for you from Italy.

I will run a third contest between Sunday June 15 and Saturday June 21. My book French Peril will be released on June 19. Yeah!!!

What could be more exciting for a young American architect than to live in a French chateau owned by a young count and to work on the restoration of a chapel in the Loire Valley?
But when her professor is poisoned because he knew too much about a missing statue, Cheryl's summer job changes into a dangerous treasure hunt and Count François is faced with a difficult choice:
Are the statue and his chateau worth endangering the life of the impetuous young woman who's turned his life upside down?

LOVE SCENE: (*Warning: this scene contains explicit sex)
“I like all of you.” François cupped Cheryl's breasts and seemed to weigh them in his hands. She‘d never been so conscious about their size D until now. “Beautiful. Perfect.”
She searched for an answer, but her brain was too fuzzy, her throat too dry.
His hands glided down, sculpting her body as he voiced his expert opinion. “Tiny waist, round hips. A stunning figure. And what a pair of legs.”

“Oh.” Her fingers froze inside his boxers as his hands wrapped around her thighs and crawled toward the apex in between. “No, your boxers first.” She slid off his lap and onto the cover, and crossed her legs when his hand cradled her pubic area, forbidding her to move further away. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and focused on the feel of his hands, the left kneading her breast, and the right one playing a mad dance in her wet folds.

“My boxers? You’re right. They have to go. Like you I’m too hot in my clothes.” He raised his hips. “Pull them, chérie. My hands are busy.” As if she didn’t know that. As if she didn’t feel those expert hands with every fiber of her body.

With one shove, she pulled his boxers down while he wriggled to help. She threw them on the floor and leaned forward, contemplating his massive, throbbing penis. She curled shaky fingers around it and swallowed. Her gaze flicked to his fingers that delved a little deeper in her folds and she matched his tempo, stroking his erection until his eyes darkened and his groan echoed her moans.

He lifted her hand away from him. “Stop, chérie. Let me take care of you first.” He lowered her to the bed, flipped away the bedspread and withdrew a foil packet from under her pillow. Her pillow? “But when did you—“

He clamped his mouth on hers while sheathing his long penis.

Oh well. Who cares? As long as she was in his arms. She laced her fingers around his nape and returned his kiss, wondering how she’d been living without kisses for so long—François’s kisses.

But he freed her mouth and trailed his lips down her throat, nipped at the sensitive flesh and then lingered on her breast, twirling his tongue around the hardened nipple and sucking. “The other now,” she ordered playfully as she raked her fingertips along his spine and cradled his buttocks, reveling in the feel of him stretched alongside her.

His lips traveled south, licked at her belly and drew a wet line to her pubic hair. His knuckles grazed the soft flesh between her thighs as he raised his head to silently question her. She shivered and her jaw slackened. His smile promised a world of pleasure. She sighed and spread her legs, inviting him. He opened her folds with his fingers and lowered his mouth against her.

She wriggled and moaned and dug her nails in his shoulder. She spread her legs wider and tilted herself up. Wanting more but… “François. Oh François.” It was more than she could bear. The wild dance of his tongue inside her. The gliding of his finger in and out. The tip of his tongue pressing against her swollen clit.

“Fran…çois,” She whispred, her voice husky. Her pelvic muscles flexed around his fingers. Her thighs tightened. “Please.” Please stop. No don’t stop. Don’t….

He increased the pace of his caresses, his finger and tongue assaulting her pleasure bud. She was close to losing her mind. She was too hot. Too wet. Too…

She screamed and jerked up and shuddered.

He slowly eased away and propped himself up on the bed. He caressed her cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. As she opened her eyes, she saw his smile, a tender smile she’d never seen before. “You are wonderful, ma chérie.”

“And you are superb. My turn to give you pleasure.”

He chuckled. “Trust me I’m more than ready. If I don’t have you now, I’m going to explode.”

His body sleek with perspiration, he stretched on top of her and captured her mouth. She tasted her juice and her scent in his mouth.

Oh Francois, I think I have fallen in love with you. What am I going to do now?

He didn’t allow her to wallow in thoughts. He slid his penis inside her and moved slowly at first, then faster, pressing inside her burning core. The need and ache within her came back, escalating.

Was she insatiable?

Wednesday, May 28, 2008


I didn't post the pictures of my prizes here but you can see them on yesterday blog. On Thursday night, I will pull three names and announce my winners and I will post a complete love scene. Stay with me, my friends, tonight and tomorrow.


“What did the FBI agent say?”

“He said he’ll hold me responsible for your safety. I must not leave your side for a second. I wasn’t planning to anyway,” he added as he sat on the edge of the bed.

She backed up. “You don’t have to take him literally. Nothing else is going to happen tonight. You can go back to your room,” she ordered him with a firm tone.

He arched an eyebrow, shook his head and lay down on the bed, surreptitiously hiding the foil packet in his hand under the pillow. “I’m not moving from here. Make yourself comfortable. Feel free to undress, wear your nightgown or pajamas.” Supporting his head on his flexed arm, he smiled broadly. “Unless you sleep without constricting clothes as I usually do?”

She jerked her head toward him. “You…have some nerve. Get out of my bed and go play your sexy games with the woman next door.”

“Cheryl, I’m not going to leave your side tonight or tomorrow or after that. So get used to it.”

“Well I need my bed to sleep.”

“I’m not taking it anywhere. It’s a huge bed. I’ll just use this edge. You can stay as far away as you want.” Too bad the romantic moment they’d shared a short while ago was lost.
“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” He struggled to hide a victorious smile when her gaze assessed the bed, measuring its width.

“Well in that case, go get your own cover. We’re not sharing a cover.”

“I don’t need one.” He rubbed his hand over his chest and gave her a devilish grin. “I don’t like covers.”

She waggled her finger at him. “And don’t you dare undress more.”
He burst out laughing. “I promise I won’t, unless you ask me to.”

Breathing out an exasperated sigh, she played with a lock of her hair and kept twirling it around her finger. “Seriously, you’re planning to spend the night here, with me?”

There was so much wonder in her widened eyes, so much sweetness in her puckered mouth, he instantly sobered. “I would love to spend the night with you, chérie.” He stretched his arm, extending his hand to her. “Come. I’ll keep you warm and secure.”

Cheryl studied his open palm. It was strong and elegant, with long fingers. A hand that could take but promised to give.

She needed stability and love. Could he give them to her?

He could, but he probably wouldn’t because he didn’t believe in love and commitment. He used secret doors like his ancestors.

Not true in her case. He hadn’t crossed the one on her side until she’d opened the door. She trailed the deep lines in his palm, hesitating. He could give her passion and pleasure and make her feel special. For a few hours. Her pulse raced as her internal debate escalated.

He waited, his gaze following the little dance of her fingertip. She wanted to feel special to him. She wanted his passion.

She raised her eyes and smiled.

He smiled back, wrapped his hand around her finger and tugged her toward him. Her smile broadened. She wanted that man so much. She slid across the bedcover and lay on top of him, her breasts peaking against his naked chest. His arms enclosed her and pressed her head down to meet his kiss. She parted her lips and welcomed his tongue for an intimate ballet with hers. He tasted of wine, power and man. Her man now. He cupped her buttock and pulled her against his erection. She was hot, on fire, panting.

Snatching her mouth away, she moaned and threw her head backward to gulp air. He slid his hand up her spine and under her shirt and squeezed it between their bodies to close over her breast. As he gently kneaded, shivers of pleasure raced across her skin. She panted. “Too hot.”

“I can help.” He rose to a sitting position, pulling her onto his lap. “You’re overdressed.”

Good News:

Last night I received a great review from Simply Romance Review for TO LOVE A HERO with an A score and an OUTSTANDING READING.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


We are still running my contest. All you have to do is leave a comment. By the way my friend Sandra Cox is also running a contest to celebrate the release of her ebook, BLACK OPAL, from Cerridwen Press. Check her blog at

On Sunday I posted the first scene of chapter one. Here is a short blurb and the first kiss.
What could be more exciting for a young American architect than to live in a French chateau owned by a young count and to work on the restoration of a chapel in the Loire Valley?
But when her professor is poisoned because he knew too much about a missing statue, Cheryl's summer job changes into a dangerous treasure hunt and Count François is faced with a difficult choice:
Are the statue and his chateau worth endangering the life of the impetuous young woman who's turned his life upside down?

François glanced at his watch. “It’s already one in the morning but we covered a lot. I better leave and let you sleep.” His gaze shifted to the windows and he resolutely strode toward the heavy draperies. “Do me a favor. Switch off the lights for a moment and don’t turn them on until I tell you.”

She understood he wanted to peek outside. “Can you see in this darkness?”

“I know the area pretty well. I will be able to see if there is something unusual.”

He probably meant if someone was watching the chateau, her balcony and room. Without further comments, she did as asked. The room turned pitch black and she heard him move. When her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, she realized he had slipped his head behind the curtain to peer at the backyard and beyond.

A couple of minutes later, he got back inside and said, “Don’t turn the switch on. I will light the bathroom for you.” He padded across the carpet and switched on the bathroom’s light. “You have enough light to get undressed and go to bed.”

“Did you see anything unusual?”

“No, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“Really?” She arched her eyebrows. He was obviously lying, afraid to worry her. “What happened to being a team? Friends?”

He burst out laughing, a devastating laughter that sprouted goose bumps over her arms and a rill of heat down to her belly. “Are you sure you want to be my friend?”

Her jaw sagged. What was she expected to answer? “Huh, I share my information with you. You’re supposed to share what you just saw outside.”

“Well answer my question first. Are we friends?” He came toward her, his hand outstretched.

“Yes,” she said as she stared at his open palm and debated if she should touch it.

“I don’t bite. Especially not my friends.”

She sneaked a look at him and put her hand in his. His fingers immediately wrapped around hers.

“I don’t bite my friends,” he repeated with a soft voice. “Far from it. I’d rather kiss them,” he said as he brought her fingers to his lips.

Warmth seeped through her skin and her bones. “Yes, friends if you want,” she murmured with conviction, hoping she wouldn’t regret her foolishness tomorrow.

His lips lingered again on the back of her hand and her wrist. “Thank you for your trust.” He backed up and held her shoulders at arm’s-length. “I looked outside to see if anything was different from usual.” His hold tightened. “There was someone smoking a cigarette in the fields. Definitely unusual.”

“You think he was watching my room?”

“I’m not going to speculate. But I don’t like it. Please don’t leave my side tomorrow.” She frowned. “A team and friends, remember?” he insisted.

“Okay. We’ll work together.”

“Goodnight, Cheryl. I’m so sorry about Professor Howard. I will miss him too. And I will be here for you.” He hugged her and kept his arms wrapped around her back. She leaned her forehead onto his shoulder and breathed the lemon scent of his cologne and his masculine presence. Strange enough, she relaxed and felt protected for the first time in years.

She raised her head, met his gaze and forgot the whole world. He had the most beautiful eyes, hazel dusted with green and gold. Kindness, almost tenderness, swirled in their depths. He didn’t move, didn’t release his hold on her back. What was she doing staring for so long? She lowered her lashes just enough to shift her focal point. His lips, luscious and full, stretched in a hint of a smile and came close. Closer, invading her field of vision.

Mesmerized, she swallowed and licked her lower lip, her fingers clutching his shoulders. His smile faded as he raised her chin with a fingertip and tugged her forward against his solid chest. Heat seeped into her body when he claimed her lips and darted his tongue into her mouth to tease and taste.

His kiss ended too quickly. And too late. Her heart still hammering in her chest, she splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, afraid to remain in his embrace another second.

He let her go, walked to the door and opened it.

“I’m here for you, Cheryl. My room is next to yours. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock on my door.”

She nodded and kept staring at the door long after he left.

Doc was gone. But François was here.

Danger floated in the air. But François is here.

Would he still be here when she needed him? When his latest girlfriend summoned his presence and invaded his bed?

Sunday, May 25, 2008

First Day Contest


My new hard drive is installed and my computer is up and running. I’m beginning to breathe again and feel so elated.
Bad things come in three and good things come in three.
Right now I have three good things to celebrate:
My return to computer and Internet life,
My new contract with The Wild Rose Press for BABIES in the BARGAIN,
And my upcoming release of FRENCH PERIL with Cerridwen Press on June 19, 2008.
Would you like to share my joy?

I will run a contest. This is my first contest so please bear with me while we play together.
My part: Starting today, I will plot a different scene from French Peril for 5 consecutive days, Sunday, May 25 to Thursday, May 29, 2008, to promote my book.
You part: You read the scene and leave a comment.
On Thursday night I will pull three names from all those who left a comment.
And I will send them a special prize.

Many of my friends know that I traveled a lot and I collected unique items from all over the world to decorate my house, or give to my family and friends.

Here are three items that I will give as prizes on Thursday. A salt shaker from Holland, a coffee cup from Paris, and a toothpick holder from Las Vegas.

On Friday, I am flying to Italy for two weeks—I told you I can’t stay in place too long. My husband is even worse. He used to travel two weeks a month for business. As soon as I come back, I will rerun this contest with new prizes. I will do a special shopping for you.

So let’s start:


A summer job in France with room and board in a chateau owned by a handsome count. Can it get any better for Cheryl Stewart? The graduate student in Architecture is now officially on a mission for her sick professor.

Count François can’t hide his disappointment when Cheryl arrives instead of her eminent professor. But the aristocratic playboy is not one to turn away a beautiful young woman. He allows her to manage the restoration of the chateau’s chapel while keeping his search for a valuable historical statue a secret from the other students working on the project.

Soon things deteriorate. The professor is poisoned, the chateau’s butler attacked and Cheryl’s room burglarized. Is there a traitor in the chateau or a killer on the loose? When Cheryl’s summer job changes into a romantic involvement and dangerous treasure hunt, Count François is faced with a difficult choice. Is the priceless statue worth jeopardizing the safety of the impetuous young woman who has stolen his heart?
Note: This book contains explicit sex scenes.

Chapter One

“Chinese restaurant… Malaysian student…”
Cheryl Stewart raised the volume on her cell phone and pushed it closer to her ear to decipher the intermittent mumbling. “What’s wrong, Doc?”
“Heart…stomach…” A pause amplified the labored breathing of her mentor.
She connected the hardly audible words. “You’ve been to a Chinese restaurant with a Malaysian student when you felt sick?” Leaning forward, she tightened her grasp on the phone. “Where are you now?”
“Am… Amb… ” The strident wail of an ambulance siren interrupted his effort and Cheryl’s pulse raced at the sound.
“Which hospital are you going to?” God, she should have insisted he take better care of his health.
“ER… Cam…bridge Hos…pital…”
“I’m coming.” It made sense that the paramedics had rushed him to the medical center closest to Harvard School of Architecture.
“Don’t. I need… ” Doc’s voice, suddenly forceful, filled the line and then collapsed as if he’d lost his last shred of energy.
“Yes, what do you need?” Her throat constricted in anguish. She’d do anything to help the man she’d considered a surrogate father for the last eight years.
Her question must have triggered some awareness. “Go to France. My plane ticket in my office. Left drawer. Take my laptop… Password statue.” His voice shattered, then came back. She didn’t know if she’d missed something. “Go. Careful. Watch… ” His panting reached her across the line, louder than his words. “Tell François…tell…”
“Yes?” She probed, her heart drumming in the deafening silence.
“What about you?”
“Maybe food poisoning… Better soon.” He grunted and gasped. “Go.” The connection was cut. Cheryl checked the calling phone number. His cell phone. Had Doc closed the line because a new surge of pain assailed him?
Professor Howard sick? He hadn’t missed a day of work since she’d sat in his class for the first time eight years ago. Should she disobey his orders and rush to the hospital to reassure herself he wasn’t in danger? She bit her lip, hesitating. No, she couldn’t do that. If he’d taken the trouble to call her on his cell phone while in the ambulance writhing in pain, she’d better do exactly as he said.
Her briefcase under her arm, she left the graduate students’ studio at Harvard School of Architecture and strode down the hallway to Professor Stanley Howard’s office. He’d given her a key two months ago when she worked with him on the statue’s project as part of her Ph.D. thesis. She unlocked his office, closed the door behind her and went straight to his desk.
Having obeyed her dear mentor’s orders, she speed dialed his cell phone.
He picked up on the first ring. Thank goodness he’d kept his phone with him. “Yes?”
“It’s Cheryl. I did everything you asked. How are you feeling now?”
“Better… I may join you next week.”
“Can I come to see you?”
“No need now.”
“What happened? How did you get sick?” Had he been feeling poorly in the last few days? As far as she remembered, he’d never complained of any ailment.
“Later. Doctor here.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of hours.” She had so many questions to ask before traveling to France and she needed to be reassured Doc was on the mend.
After collecting her laptop carrying case, she left the studio and locked the door. As she glanced down the hallway and gasped.
A man was just stepping out of Doc’s office. What the hell was he doing there? Except for Cheryl and security, no one else had a key to her mentor’s office.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

My New Contract.

Last week, I was pleased to receive a contract offer from The Wild Rose Press, for my contemporary romance, BABIES IN THE BARGAIN. The editor who read it described it as ‘a wonderful book very well written and plotted’ and my critique partners call it a warm and sexy book.

The story takes place in Washington DC, more precisely in the Children’s Washington Hospital. It is the love story of two doctors torn between their hectic obligations and sizzling attraction. I like to think that BABIES IN THE BARGAIN is a mix of ER and Gray’s Anatomy in the NICU, and my hero looks so much like George Clooney.

Blurb: With only one year left to complete her training in Neonatology, Dr. Holly Collier vows not to let anyone mess up her sacrosanct schedule. Especially not the drop-dead gorgeous Dr. Marc Suarez who broke her heart seven years ago.When a tragic accident transforms the carefree playboy into a dedicated but novice father to his nephew, Holly gives in to her maternal instincts and turns her structured life upside down for the orphaned preemie. But can she learn to trust in Marc again and believe in true love?

BABIES IN THE BARGAIN finalled in several contests.
First Place: Launching A Star: February 2006; The Beacon: April 2006; Great Expectations: April 2006.
Second Second Place: Golden Gateway: August 2005; Gotcha : January 2006; Enchanted Words: February 2006.
Third Place: The Suzannah: March 2006; Winter Rose 2006: May 2006; Linda Howard Award of Excellence: May 2006.
Fourth Place : Duel on the Delta: March 2006

Authors who read my story in contests describe it as follows:
--If you want to experience the warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction that comes from reading a really good story pick up Babies In The Bargain. In this heart-warming medical romance a dark, sexy hero and bright, compassionate heroine find their happy ending with a cute baby every mom would love to cuddle-- Helen Scott-Taylor, The Magic Knot, Dorchester, 2008 American Title IV winner.

--Mona Risk's stories give romance readers the unforgettable heroes and lively heroines that we love the most!--Roxanne St. Clair, national bestselling author of Thrill Me To Death.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Computers Crash / A horrendous experience

Computer crashes are like death, natural disasters or major diseases.
We know they exist.
We know they can happen to others.
We blissfully believe they will never happen to us.

I often heard people saying that their computer crashed. Feeling sorry, I smiled with sympathy, wondered what they did wrong, and wished them a speedy recovery of their files.

When my monitor screen froze on Sunday, I was sure it would be a matter of seconds, maybe minutes, to bring it back into activity.

I clicked on cont-alt-del to erase the malfunctioning program. To no avail.
I tried to close all my open files and repeat the above procedure. But nothing happened.
I shut the computer and reboot. Damn it, the computer didn’t reboot.

Don’t panic. Think and proceed carefully. I unplugged all connections and plugged them back securely. And reboot. When the icons showed up, I breathed with relief and smiled.
Things would work now.

But things didn’t work. When I clicked on an icon, nothing happened. I tried each icon. Nothing, nothing…

I just couldn’t make any program work. I called my husband. He repeated the process. Turn off, reboot, etc… Same negative results.

I began to look at him with fear in my heart and panic in my voice. “My files? My ebooks, manuscripts, work-in-progress, workshop files, pictures, book marked websites,.. Are they gone?”

My husband was too busy fiddling with the plugs. He reassured me with a “I hope not.” But his face said it all. Don’t keep your hope high. He ran some tests and shook his head. “The disc drive is damaged.”

My heart sank. It can’t be. I couldn’t lose the work of five years.

I remembered my back up system and stifled my rising panic. The back up system should have all my files neatly stored. We will deal with the damaged hard drive later. My husband ran the backup drive and I received a lousy surprise. It has stopped backing up two months ago. We could retrieve eighty percent of the files, but not the recent work, the most important files.

I was in denial. The way I feel when I hear about someone’s death, or about a bad diagnosis. It can’t be. God, it can’t happen to me.

But it did.

I looked at my husband and pleaded with tears in my eyes.” Please do something.”

He tried running the computer in Safe Mode. No icon opened.

My husband called Hewlett Packard and paid the $100 for support. They asked him to run the tests he already ran, and announced that our disc drive was damaged, which we already knew.

“Don’t panic. I will do my best to retrieve your files,” my husband said, with the same sympathetic voice a doctor reassures a patient with incurable disease.

He worked all night on my computer while I sat in front of him watching and giving unsolicited suggestions that didn’t help.

Around 5:00 am, he said, “I have an idea. Say a prayer.”

I raised my eyes to heaven and mumbled a prayer for my files, my work, my sanity and my life.

My husband put the computer into Safe Mode again. Instead of trying to open icons, he just copied the files from the damaged disc drive onto the back up drive.

IT WORKED. Oh my God, it worked.

We copied everything. The manuscripts, ebooks, files, pictures…everything.

I made us a well deserved cup of coffee and copied the back up disc drive onto the laptop.

In the morning, he took the computer to the Geek Squad. There was no hope for the hard drive. We had to replace it. It would take a week to order one and reinstall it in the computer, and then reinstall all the programs.

Be careful, my friends. Even when you have a back up system, it doesn’t mean your files are safe. Check the back up regularly. I learned my lesson the hard way.

Have you ever gone through such a lousy experience?
What did you do to retrieve your files?

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Happy Mother's Day

Today I celebrated Mother’s Day as a daughter, mother and grandmother. My son-in-law invited four generations of women to lunch. My daughter and her two little girls, 4 and 2, and my son’s daughter, 3, visiting from Chicago, my mother and myself.

Lunch was lovely. We ignored the spilled glass of orange juice, the I-don’t-like-it whining and the crumbles forming an obvious mess under the table.

It took fifteen minutes to sit the women for the picture of the century. Moving my mother and her walker to a strategic place, and then having her hold on the rail at the entrance stairs wasn’t too difficult, but gathering three laughing, squealing and squirming little girls and having them stand still for two seconds was an enormous challenge. However, the effort was worth the pain. The children are growing too fast and we don’t know how long we will be blessed with my mother’s presence.

I hope all the mothers reading this blog had a great day today.

Sometimes Mother’s Day is a difficult time. I know it is extremely difficult for my cousin who lost her mother a week ago. For her and her family, Mother’s Day consisted in a trip to the cemetery to deposit flowers on a fresh grave.

Enjoy your mothers and enjoy your day as a mother.

I often mention a grandmother in my books to honor my own mother. The grandmothers in my books, whether they are called, Nana, Nonna, Mémé, , Momom, Babushka or Grandma, are all delightful and strong characters. While they adore their grandchildren, they don’t mince words with their own grownup kids.

How did you spend your Mother’s Day?

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Missing in Action

What started as a fun weekend ended up with tragic events.

I left for Montreal on Friday for a school reunion and spent the evening with five women I haven’t seen in years. We had a blast at one of them and stayed until three in the morning drinking, eating, chatting and laughing. A real slumber party.

The next morning I woke up to a phone call announcing my dear aunt’s death in New York. She was eleven years older than me, more like a sister. She had heart troubles, but we didn’t expect things to go so fast. I changed my ticket and the next day I flew to NY instead of going home. My husband brought my Mom who can’t walk without a walker or a wheelchair. My Mom was devastated by her little sister’s death, a sister ten years younger. We spent Monday at the funeral home for the wake. Today we attended the funerals. It was a gorgeous spring day in NY. Flowers were everywhere.

While helping my Mom up the steps of the church, I felt my knee cracking. I put ice on it tonight and swallowed Advil. We are flying back tomorrow and I will deal with my knee when I’m home although I hope the pain goes away by itself.

As I checked my e-mail for the first time in three days I found a picture of my book cover for FRENCH PERIL due on June 19, 08.