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Lily Gardner thought she’d found her soul mate when she met and married the handsome and well-off Thomas Gardner. But now, thirty, with a four-year-old son, Lily finds herself wading through the messy waters of divorce and single motherhood, crying herself to sleep at night wondering if she’s just lost her only chance at love—and herself in the process.
This is my stop during the book blitz for Deck The Malls with Purple Peacocks by Amy Gettinger. This book blitz is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The book blitz runs from 7 till 20 December. See the tour schedule here.
Get this book for free!
From 9 till 10 December and from 15 till 17 December the book will be free on Amazon!
It’s Christmas in Orange County, California, and the mall is full of purple peacock decorations, large and small. Department store employee Aracely Martinez has a goofy Cuban friend, Quito (who’s awfully cute in his mall Santa suit), distracting her from her night-shift restocking job. But Aracely has a long-held secret, which her supervisor at the store, Jacob Thinnes, is holding over her head to make her do his bidding.
Which is too much bidding.
Enter Aracely’s oldest friends: Alice Chalmers, Georgette Jones and Julie Bowers. The group’s “Venus Warrior” bond from the 2003 production of The Venus Monologues at Garden Beach Community College is still very strong, and these women are ready, willing, and able to kick some butt to help Aracely out of her difficult bind. Join Aracely’s “Three Wise Women” plus her ever-present trickster hunk, Quito, in one adventure after another as they work against the odds to give Aracely a fabulous, nearly impossible Christmas gift: the life of her dreams.
You can find Deck The Malls with Purple Peacocks on Goodreads
You can buy Deck The Malls with Purple Peacocks here on Amazon
From 9 till 10 December and from 15 till 17 December the book will be free!
Here a little taste–
She winced, waiting for the axe to fall. He’d let her off once with a warning for merchandise breakage before. But this time?
He glanced around him. “Okay. I’ll let this slide one last time. If you do me a favor in return. Come clean my house. Say later today at 1:00.” He scrawled an address on a slip of paper and handed it to her. “Here. Come dressed to work. And don’t be late.” He half-smiled and winked. “Do it right and this never happened. There might even be a little bonus in it for you.”
Aracely balked. “But it’s my day off my other job.”
“I need some rest.”
“Merchandise breakers can’t be choosers. If I tell the boss about this, it’ll be ugly.”
Maybe she should just quit this job there and then. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, and she already had two full-time jobs plus her college class. Taking on a cleaning job on her day off would rob her of much-needed sleep. But she was so close. So close! This night job paid pretty well, and in the next few weeks before Christmas, she planned to make the last few hundred dollars she needed to start up her business in downtown Santa Ana. She had her eye on a particular storefront, a small one which currently had a FOR RENT sign in the window, where she planned to open her own dress shop in February. February! Her own store! It was so close she could almost taste it.
So was she going to give up on her dream now—just because of a little stumble and some extra work?
“Yeah, fine,” she mumbled, and moved over by an all-blue tree to slice open another box of ornaments with her box cutter.
“Good choice. See ya later,” he said, and she felt a hand skim across her slim behind.
She turned around with fire in her eyes, the box cutter in her grasp, blade out.
He backed off, palms up. “Okay, okay. See you at 1:00. Without the box cutter.”
As she sliced into the new box of ornaments, muttering to herself in Spanish, another person approached. Mad enough to bite the head off a tiger, Aracely kept her head down, examining the new box full of bright purple and pink blown-glass peacocks.
But the familiar scent of fake Paco Rabanne lingered, as did the person. “Hey, Aracely. What the feck?”
Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away.
“Aracely, where do cows go on dates? Huh?”
“Please, Quito. No jokes right now.”
“But it’s a good one. They go to the movies! Get it? Mooooo-vies. Aracely. What was Jacob buggering you about?”
“Quito, it’s ‘bugging’, not ‘buggering’.”
“Let me talk to you in Spanish then.” He flashed her a melting grin.
“No. We’ve been through this. You need to practice your English. It stinks.”
“But my slang is better than yours. You didn’t even understand when I said, ‘I’m your number one Stan, Sis. I ship you, hundo P.’ And you don’t know LB, FB, or RT.’”
She threw her hands in the air. “Quito. You have a cell phone. I don’t. And how can I learn English slang when I work and live with Spanish-speakers?
“Live with English speakers.”
“No. And why would I want to know slang? I hate slang.”
“You work too much.”
“And you not enough.” She placed a purple peacock on the blue tree. “Anyway, what’s ‘hundo P’?”
His eyes glinted and he switched to Spanish. “Not telling that to the girl who hates slang. Hey, those are like the ones on the big tree out in the mall. Coolio.” Quito grabbed two purple glass peacock ornaments, glittery confections with a spray of fluffy fuchsia and purple feathers sprouting from their purple glass tail fans. “Muchos lindos. Like, gangsta, man. TDF.”
She snorted. “TDF? Ugh. More slang? Look, don’t say ‘gangsta’ or ‘coolio’ or ‘TDF.’ Just say ‘pretty.’ And put those down.”
He said in Spanish, “Chica, what’s wrong with being creative with language? It’s fun. But these are weird turkeys.”
She hung up more peacocks. “They’re not turkeys. They’re peacocks.”
He sang his own words to the classic carol’s melody: “Jingle bells, Santa smells, Happy Halloween. Oh what fun it is to eat—tamales and peacocks. Jingle bells, Santa smells—”
Aracely cut in, “Americans don’t eat peacocks for Thanksgiving. Only turkeys.” She went back to work.
“Hey. Am I pretty, wearing these turkeys?” He poked her shoulder, and she looked up. He wiggled his long, dark, wing-like eyebrows, batted his eyes, preened, and danced amid the Christmas trees, holding the sparkly ornaments to his ears like earrings.
Aracely clamped her mouth shut, but couldn’t keep a giggle from escaping her nose. “You’re not pretty, you turkey. The word is ‘handsome.’ You’re handso—”
Quickly, she caught herself and bent her head back to the box. “Don’t you have work to do, Quito?”
About the Author:
Amy Gettinger, once a community college ESL instructor, now writes novels and reader’s theater plays and coaches Reader’s Theater for Seniors. She’s a member of the Los Angeles Poets and Writers Collective. She lives in Orange County, California underneath a eucalyptus windrow full of parrots and crows. For fun, she walks the local beach cliff path with her husband and dogs–and thinks up perfectly ridiculous characters and crimes to write about.
There is a tour wide giveaway for the book blitz of Deck The Malls in Purple Peacocks. These are the prizes you can win:
– a peacock Christmas tree ornament (US Only)
– an e-copy of Roll with the Punches by Amy Gettinger (International)
– an e-copy of Alice in Monologue Land by Amy Gettinger (International)
– an e-copy of Pranks and Poodles by Amy Gettinger (International)
For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
This is my stop during the book blitz for Rescuing Prince Charming by Edward Hoornaert. This book blitz is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The book blitz runs from 28 November till 11 December. See the tour schedule here.
Dusty Johnson, a self-styled ordinary, everyday woman, responds with extraordinary heroism to saboteurs trying to bomb the prototype of Earth’s first starship. She wants to return to anonymity, but her moment of courage propels her ever deeper into danger that tears the scabs off her dark past—and thrusts her into the arms of the unattainable man of her dreams.
Reese Eaglesbrood, an alien prince, yearns to restore his tattered reputation by guiding the starship project to completion, but his fascination with the unassuming heroine threatens to undermine his fragile authority. Shunning Dusty is necessary, yet unthinkable—and when the saboteurs strike again, she may be his only ally against Earth’s darkest enemies.
You can find Rescuing Prince Charming on Goodreads
About the Author:
What kind of guy writes romance? A guy who married his high school sweetheart a week after graduation and still lives the HEA decades later. A guy who’s a certifiable Harlequin hero—he inspired Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Rita Award finalist Mr. Valentine, which is dedicated to him.
Ed started out writing contemporary romances for Silhouette Books, but these days he concentrates on science fiction romance. He’s been a teacher, principal, technical writer, salesman, janitor, and symphonic oboist. He and wife Judi live in Tucson, Arizona. They have three sons, a daughter, a mutt, and the galaxy’s most adorable grandson.
There is a tour wide giveaway for the book blitz of Rescuing Prince Charming. These are the prizes you can win:
– Grand prize: e-book copies of the other three books in this series: Alien Contact for Idiots, Alien Contact for Kid Sisters and Newborn
– 2 winners win an e-book of their choice from any of the following three books: Alien Contact for Idiots, Alien Contact for Kid Sisters and Newborn
For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Excerpt three 9
Somehow she climbed the steep ramp to the landing and gazed out over three-hundred faces, avoiding one in particular: Reese’s. At the moment she was only half sure she wanted to see him again, but completely certain she didn’t want an audience for the reunion.
“Quiet down,” Insook said. No one paid attention—but when Reese thrust both arms in the air and yelled, “Silence!” the crowd quieted.
Insook wrapped a burly arm around Dusty’s shoulders and squeezed hard. “Desdemona has our undying gratitude. Our thanks will, I’m sure, find a tangible form. For now, we shall settle for a celebration tomorrow afternoon in honor of Ms. Johnson and our new project leader.”
Shocked that the duke hadn’t mentioned Reese’s role, Dusty turned to him. He said nothing, and his face gave no clue how he felt about the slight. Maybe anger kept his face blank. Insook was a duke, and Reese might not feel a commoner could correct him.
But giving him no credit was just plain wrong.
“Wait a minute,” she cried. Her voice had none of the Kwadrans’ carrying power, yet the crowd quieted, eager to hear her. She extricated herself from Insook’s arm to point at Reese. “I wasn’t the first person to find that bomb, and I certainly couldn’t have disposed of it alone. This brave man did as much as I. More. Tell them, Reese.”
“No, no. He’s more of a hero than I am. I’d be dead without Reese…” Pausing, she turned toward him. “What’s your last name?”
He dipped his chin as though apologizing. “Eaglesbrood,” he whispered to her alone.
“Eaglesbrood,” she repeated for the crowd to hear. For a nanosecond, the name meant nothing.
Then it meant everything. All of it bad.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.