Blog Posts - I write sweet and steamy rom-coms with tear-jerker happy-ever-afters.

Modern Brain Imaging + Suicide

6/3/2019

I only had time to skim this article, but what I've read so far is promising and sheds further light on the still-vague relationship between brain activity / condition and suicide.
As those of you who have read Truly, Madly, Deeply (O/T: last chance to buy the book before it reverts to its SRP of $3.99!) might know, suicide is a hugely important issue to me. I'm just like one of the book's characters, actually, and I only realized and somewhat understood an individual's struggles after watching 13 Reasons Why. Not saying I'm an expert now (far from it), but I can confidently say I'm able to better empathize with what they're going through, and I'm actively doing my best to be more sensitive when I feel people are genuinely struggling with anxiety, depression, and any other illness, condition, or situation that may lead to a person having suicidal thoughts.
I'll probably post a lengthier and more in-depth reflection on this sometime soon, but for now I just wanted to share this with you guys before going back to work.
Hope everyone's having a nice, productive week so far!

Rewriting today

6/3/2019

It's 3:40 in the afternoon here in Manila, and I'm still at home...working. :)
If you subscribed to my newsletter, you'd know that I was initially working on Lysander & Estrella's story, but actually the past few days I found myself working on something else. In particular, a loose, steamy urban fantasy adaptation of a paranormal cozy series I wrote under one of my other pen names. And honestly, it's been really fun, revisiting that world and then creating something new yet again.
Anyway, just thought I'd drop by to let you know how things are on my end. I'm really just determined to write something a lot lighter this time, after writing two angsty novels consecutively. So if this doesn't work, I may try revisiting my Rancher #3 WIP next.
That's it for now! <3

Have you read Truly, Madly, Deeply yet?

5/27/2019

The first reviews for Truly, Madly, Deeply are in, and...so far, so good.
Anyone else here has read it?
If yes, did you like it?
I hope you did or - even better - I hope you got something (nice / positive) out of it.

Anyway, right now I'm working on polishing my outline for Lysander & Estrella's story. Really hoping and praying I'd finish this because it's been SO, SO, SO long since I last wrote something paranormal.

Thank you as always for being so patient and understanding.
I know I say this again and again, but it's only because I truly do mean it.
YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!

truly, madly, deeply

5/24/2019

Having been surrounded her entire life by men who could easily pass off as Greek gods, 24-year-old post-graduate student Diana Leventis has long thought herself immune to male beauty...until, that is, a gorgeous, devastatingly sexy blond in tweeds saves her from being run over by a wagon full of daisies.
When she meets him again, she thinks it's fate...especially when he turns out to be her professor, and she catches him pleasuring himself in his office.
She's always thought of herself as shy, timid, and boring, but when confronted by the evidence of his desire and the sensual blaze of Professor Matthijs de Graaf's leonine eyes...
Diana just had to ask: That's for me. Isn't it?

"If it is not too much to ask," the professor asked in a glacial voice, "would you care to put your daydreams on pause for the rest of the class?"
Diana felt her eyes sting in mortification and fought hard to keep her composure. "I...I..."
"Save us from unnecessary explanations, any of which I highly doubt will be the truth." When she didn't speak, the professor dealt her an impatient glance, asking irritably, "Well? Your proposal then?"
Oh!
Since she had nothing written on her proposal sheet, Diana could only blurt out the first half-baked idea that came to her mind. "I was thinking, umm, since depression is one of the leading causes of suicide, then perhaps we could use faith to cure depression---"
The professor's lip curled. "I've heard enough."
He had?
"And I think you're better off dropping my subject."
Diana found herself clutching the edge of her desk as shock reverberated in the entire class in palpable silence.
Cut your losses and go.
It was the voice of reason again, but try as she might, she couldn't make herself listen to it.
"I s-sincerely believe in what I'm saying, professor."
"Good for you, but that's not why I'm asking you to drop the subject."
"What I'm saying makes sense---"
"If I only wanted my students to make sense," the professor snapped, "then I should've opted to teach in kindergarten, do you think?" The words were intended to hurt, and hurt it did. The girl was now trembling and visibly fighting back tears, but just as before, the sight of her distress did not bring him any amount of gratification.
Damn her. Damn her. Goddamn her for forcing him to make her bleed, and because this had to be the last time, he knew he couldn't leave it this way. He had to see it to the end, no matter what.
When she started to sit, he saw his opportunity and seized it mercilessly, saying sharply, "I'm not finished."
The girl flinched, and so did most of the class. That he was a pitiless bastard was a widely-known fact, but couldn't the professor see he was already beating a dead animal in this instance?
"Remind me what this subject is, Ms. Leventis."
His words were like a noose tightening around her throat, and while she didn't know how or when it would happen, the one thing she was certain of was that this was the beginning of the end.
"Ms. Leventis?"
"Novel Therapy---"
"Finally," the professor mocked. "A correct answer." It had a few students laughing, causing the girl to flush, but he forced himself to get past this. "Do you think you could properly define this as well?"
"It c-can be any method or technology that could be considered breakthrough or radical---"
"In other words," the professor murmured silkily, "it could also be the first of its kind."
"Yes---"
"That being said, do you genuinely believe you're the first person who thought curing depression with faith would help prevent suicide?"
He saw her jerk, saw the first tear fall, and he knew it should be enough.
"Because if you do, then you're an even bigger idiot than I gave you credit for."
But instead he found himself pushing the knife deeper.
I'm sorry, but there's no other fucking way.
Diana could feel everyone staring at her. She knew she should at least say something, but the humiliating flow of her tears had robbed her of the ability to speak. All she could do was remember how this man destroying her was also the same man she had willingly taken her clothes off for, and this truth...it broke her, to the point that for one second she found herself tempted - oh, how she was so shamefully tempted - to be the subject of her own study and surrender herself to oblivion.
But eventually the feeling passed, a hitherto hidden core of strength ultimately prevailing, and Diana's fingers slowly loosened its deathlike grip on the desk.
Dark eyes that neither hated nor judged met eyes that burned an inscrutable shade of gold.
He didn't have to hurt her this way, but he had.
He could have done this differently, but he hadn't.
This, finally, was the end.
Not inevitable, but not salvageable either.
It was the ending he chose, the ending he wanted, and she was just so tired now that she let it be.
Goodbye, Professor.

Start reading today.
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$2.99 only during release week (regular price is $3.99)
Available soon on Kobo as well

MY SHAMEFUL SECRET

1/27/2019

This book contains two standalone stories and were previously published as Voyeur and Stalker under a shared pen name.

Voyeur:
Playboy. That’s what I think every time I watch him from the library, someone who can never be a part of his world. Every time I see him, it’s like he has a different woman in his arms, and it’s never platonic. I may be a virgin, but even I know how to read between the lines, and they’ve got fuck buddies written all over them.
Introvert. It’s my first day as an intern, and I’m determined to stay in the shadows. I like it when nobody looks at me or talks to me. Life is so much better when I’m alone, but then I see him.
That man is my boss, and even worse is what those mocking green eyes of his are telling me:
He knows I hate him.
He knows he terrifies me.
But nothing is more horrific than the moment he bends down and whispers to my ear, It’s my turn to watch you.

Stalker
Some people may think I’m stalking him, but I’m not. I just like…observing, and he happens to be my favorite subject.
I like to call him Mr. X. It’s safer that way, since he’s the hottest doctor in town, and I’d turn into a laughingstock in an instant if people find out I have the audacity of even crushing on him – someone wildly successful, heartbreakingly handsome, and so dangerously charming he can seduce you into doing anything.
I’ve seen it happen one too many times, which is why I know it’s better this way.
I stalk him when I need to de-stress. Fantasize about all sorts of things, which I then write in my journal.
He’s my imaginary boyfriend, and that’s all he was supposed to be until…
The day he suddenly meets my gaze---
Talks to me---
Touches me---
And everything changes.

Nook: https://tinyurl.com/ya9sqmjf
iTunes: https://tinyurl.com/y9k2qld6
Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/yaclakl3
Google Play: https://tinyurl.com/y9kddpvz
Kobo: https://tinyurl.com/ybqons5c

ANDREUS: PART TWO - SNEAK PEEK

8/24/2018

If you don’t like the weather in Texas, wait just five minutes. And sure enough, the moment I got in his truck, and he returned behind the wheel, the skies cleared, and the sun was out once more. I automatically opened my mouth to say it wasn’t necessary for him to drive me home, but he had already stepped on the gas, driving so fast that the powerful burst of speed had forced me back against my seat.
By the time I could draw another breath, we were just five minutes away from home, and anything I said might be misconstrued as being melodramatic.
“Do you mind if I turn the radio on?” But I was just being polite really, and I was already leaning forward to press the power button even before he could grunt his assent.
A familiar crooning voice played out. Bee Gees. And they were singing How Can You Mend A Broken Heart.
I quickly switched to another station and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard Eminem rapping. Oh thank God. But a little while later, Rihanna joined in, and I realized too late we were listening to Love The Way You Lie.
Shit, shit, shit.
My fingers fumbled for the next station, just in time to hear the DJ say the next song would be from Billy Ray Cyrus, and I stared at the radio’s digital screen in complete disbelief. No. Way. Right? There was just no effing –
A melody of notes drifted into the air.
Oh my God!
I slammed my hand on the power button to shut the radio off.
ACHY BREAKY HEART.
Really, God, really?
And then I heard it – just the tiniest sound, so soft that I could be forgiven for thinking I had imagined it. But even so my head snapped towards his direction.
He was gazing straight ahead, and the chiseled features of his face could have been carved from stone.
Even so, my eyes narrowed. I knew what I heard, and a moment later, I saw it. A sight as tiny as that sound from earlier. A sight that was real, and it was beautiful.
He was…smiling.
And I laughed.
It was that or cry, and I could never choose the latter. Not anymore. Not ever. Because things were different. And so I just laughed, and after a moment, he – YO – joined in, too. Five seconds of bliss followed. Five seconds in which I could forget that the mere thought of him hurt so bad I had to mentally change his name to a stupid two-letter exclamation. Five seconds in which I could pretend things were not different.
Five seconds.
We gazed at each other, and just seeing him smile made me giddy and weepy all at the same time. God, how I wished this could last forever.
But it didn't, and those five seconds were gone all too soon. The silence inside his struck started humming with tension again, and when I looked at him again, watching his smile fade was like seeing the world end.
And it hurt.
My fingers balled into fists.
So, so much.
“Hallie.”
I nearly jerked in my seat at the guttural sound of his voice. He rarely called me by my name, but I supposed he no longer had any choice now. All the other names he used to call me through the years weren’t appropriate anymore –
Princess. Baby doll. My girl.
I heard him curse under his breath as I squeezed my eyes shut.
And then he was speaking again -
“I’m sorry.”
The words were raw, and the images they painted behind my eyelids were even more agonizing.
I remembered the first day we made love, and I became his.
You’re finally mine.
I remembered the last time our eyes met before he became someone else’s.
It’s over.
And most of all, I remembered the mind-numbing, blood-curling fear, that inescapable sense of foreboding –
Sometimes, you just know.
His voice drew me back to the present. “If you want me to go---” His voice had turned forceful and aggressive. “I will.” The voice of a man who was willing to fight to the ends of the world for the woman he loved.
Oh…Yo.
If only you would let that woman fight even just one battle for you.
I fixed my gaze on the windows. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. We’re good.” So damn good I couldn’t make myself look at him again, knowing that if he saw the tears in my eyes, it would only hurt him more.
And more than anything else, I just wanted him to stop hurting.

New Release: RAYYAN (A DESERT SHEIKH ROMANCE)

7/20/2018

Hyacinth Kahveci has something to hide, and she’s willing to go to extraordinary lengths to keep her secret – even if it means having to sort of blackmail Sheikh Rayyan Al-Atassi into becoming her fake boyfriend.

“Did Al Afea send you?”
The man slowly sheathed his gun at her words, and she nearly expired in relief. Oh, thank God. She had done the right thing then. Al Afea was another name that Sheikh Rayyan Al-Atassi answered to, and Hyacinth had been hoping that the air of mystery that constantly shrouded the royal sheikh would make her lie more believable.
Forcing herself to meet the man’s gaze, she demanded, “Did you not hear what I said? Because the sheikh will not be pleased at all if he sees his woman---” Her voice died when she saw the man reach for his helmet.
Oh. Sh*t.
She had watched too many true crime shows not to know how much danger she was in, and Hyacinth slowly took a step back. If he was willing to show her his face, then it only meant one thing. He wasn’t worried she would be able to identify him – because he had no plans of keeping her alive.
The helmet clattered to the ground, and the moment he reached for the edge of his balaclava, Hyacinth spun around to take advantage of his momentary blindness and make a run for it.
But she had barely been able to take several steps when long, hard fingers curled around her wrist and hauled her back.
She screamed. She kicked and thrashed against him. She gave him as good as she got, hell bent on fighting to her dying breath –
“Stop struggling!”
“Stop, dammit!”
“Will you just look at me---”
The man’s words eventually penetrated the haze of terror that had clouded her mind, and even though she dared not stop pummeling his chest and doing all she could to knee him in the groin, she did let her gaze move up to her assailant’s face –
“HOLY F*CK!”
Startled at the expletive, Rayyan unconsciously loosened his grip on her just as Hyacinth made another attempt to free herself. She succeeded this time and backed away as soon as she could. Too soon as it turned out because the next thing she knew, she was falling and falling and falling –
Thud.
Hyacinth couldn’t tell which hurt worse: her ego or her ass. All she knew was how her embarrassment was growing with every second, more so when she saw the sheikh slowly crouch down in front of her.
“Well, anisdi…” Rayyan paused. “This certainly isn’t the kind of reaction I was hoping to get from my woman.”
A strangled sound escaped Hyacinth.
Oh. My. God.
Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t.
She had forgotten about that.
“And for the record---” She saw his gaze dip down. “White underwear isn’t a favorite of mine.”
Too late, she realized she was still sprawled on the ground, her legs wide open, and her abaya falling all the way back to her waist.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

This is the fourth book in the Desert Sheikhs series. It is a standalone romance with no cliffhangers.

Start reading today.
Amazon ~ Nook ~ Google Play ~ iTunes ~ Kobo

IT STARTED WITH A SECRET...a free story

5/3/2018

Just dropping by to quickly let you (aka those reading from Goodreads and Amazon) know that I've an ongoing FREE story posted here on my website.
Click here to start reading.
So far I have two chapters up, and I'm hoping to post every day.
I have three books completed for this series, which I wrote back in 2007. I'm rewriting it one chapter at a time.
I hope you enjoy it!

ANDREUS: PART ONE IS NOW LIVE!

5/1/2018

****
Greek billionaire Andreus Economou is Hallie’s first love, but he’s also the only man to break her heart – and he’s done it more than once, too.
Now that she’s twenty-four, and hopefully just a little wiser, too, Hallie decides that it’s time she stops running away from her feelings.
This time, she’s going to let nature run its course – and stop pretending she’s not in love with him.
****
START READING TODAY.
Amazon ~ Nook ~ iTunes ~ Google Play ~ Kobo

“HEY SIRI.”
“GO AHEAD,” A ROBOTIC VOICE ANSWERED RIGHT AWAY.
“CAN YOU TELL ME HOW TO ACT IN FRONT OF A SORT OF EX-BOYFRIEND?”

After a few seconds, Siri answered, “OK. I found something on the web for 'can you tell me how to act in front of a sort of ex-boyfriend’. Take a look."
Hallie quickly lowered her phone and almost groaned at Siri’s search results.
How To Make Your Ex-Boyfriend Jealous?
Ha!
Andreus? Jealous?
Ha!
“You’re no help, Siri!”
“That is subject to opinion.”
Cheeky robot!
She saw Andreus shaking hands with the officer, and anxiety gripped her chest. “Hey, Siri?”
“How can I help?”
She spoke in a rush and was grateful when Siri proved more helpful the second time around. Oh, thank God! At least now, she would know what to do if –
“Sorry I kept you waiting.”
The gravelly, all-too-familiar voice interrupting her thoughts almost made her jump, and Hallie was momentarily reduced into dumbstruck silence at finding Andreus already standing right in front of her. Ebony eyes captured hers then, followed by a lethally sexy smile that had her clutching the cart’s handlebar again like it was a squeeze toy for stress. It seemed like he was waiting for her to say something back, but what? Her mind was a complete blank. Or rather, it was except for what Siri had told her.
“I’m planning to put up a social networking site for chickens,” Hallie blurted out, and as Andreus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise, she doggedly forged on with the punchline, saying, “I’m just not sure it will help me make hens meet.”
Silence, long enough to make her fidget, and then Andreus murmured with a polite smile, “That’s funny.”

New Release: The Billionaire Rancher's Christmas Wife

12/23/2017

28-year-old Isla Bouchard signs up to be a mail-order bride to escape her heartbreak and start a new life as a cowboy’s wife. She comes up to Aspen, Colorado to meet her future husband, who’s nothing like the sweet, gentle man his letters have made him out to be. Instead, Sean Northwood turns out to be a devastatingly handsome rogue, and even more shocking, he’s no ordinary rancher but a billionaire who owns one of the world’s most successful stud farms.
Isla is terrified of trusting and loving a man again, but just one kiss from Sean is enough to make her forget all her fears and insecurities. And so she gives herself to him – heart, body, and soul – not knowing that the billionaire only sees her as a temporary part of his life.
Note: This is a STEAMY, MODERN-DAY ROMANCE set in Colorado. It has no cliffhangers and a guaranteed HAPPY EVER AFTER. Fans of Diana Palmer and Margaret Way are likely to enjoy this book.

Amazon ~ Nook ~ Google Play ~ Kobo
*Available on iTunes soon