Now Available-Junebugs, Haunted Houses & Jack-o'-Lanterns

I think some of the greatest love stories are the ones that happen between two people who think their chance at romance is already over and done. Getting swept off your feet by a handsome stranger is easy. What happens when you're navigating love in the messy everyday world of diapers, runny noses, post partum depression, and all those crappy little habits that take center stage in our married lives?

With the city of St. Louis and Clan McKinloch as a lively background, I hope you'll enjoy reading about two people who thought their romance was done. A guy who never said what needed to be said until it was too late, and a woman who desperately wants to know she matters.

Stacey is tired of sharing Donal with his job at McKinloch’s Pub. She wants a husband who puts her first. Besides, sometimes being married to the hottest guy in the room means you spend all your time wondering who else is volunteering to warm his bed. Donal has never wanted any woman but Stacey. There is no way he’s letting her walk away from their marriage without a fight, even if he has to step out of his comfort zone and sweep her off her feet. Fortunately, chemistry is on his side, if only he can make Stacey understand that the sparks they have in the bedroom could be carried over to the rest of their lives.

It doesn’t take Stacey long to realize that the guy you have might be exactly what you need. After all, nothing worth having comes easy. Worse, she’s starting to realize that she might have unfairly judged the one guy she needs to make her life complete.

An excerpt from the book

“Look, Mama!” Tyler cupped his baby palm around a shiny green beetle. “Look at the pretty bug!”

Stacey McKinloch crouched beside her son and tried not to feel as if every single person attending her brother-in-law’s wedding was staring at her. Although since they absolutely were staring at her, she was probably entitled to a little paranoia.

“What kind is it?” Tyler asked.

“It’s a june bug.” Stacey admired the way the torchlight shone on the beetle’s iridescent shell.

It was a beautiful evening. The twilight sky was a soft canopy over the outdoor dance floor and billowing white tents that had been set up for the reception. The air was balmy with just a touch of the humidity that would descend upon the St. Louis area like a suffocating haze come August.

“It’s May, Mama.” Tyler squinted his eyes at her as though he were trying to decide if she were pulling his leg or not.

Stacey chuckled, wondering how to explain to such a black-and-white thinker that the beetle’s name had very little to do with when he and his brethren descended upon the Midwest like a plague. Setting the abstract aside, she went with a logical explanation. “Maybe he’s early?”

Tyler giggled, his greenish-blue eyes lighting up his face and making her heart ache. Aside from his eyes, he looked so much like his father. The thick dark hair curling boyishly around his forehead and ears, his complexion, and even his smile reminded her of Donal.

As if the mere thought of his name could conjure him from thin air, Stacey caught a glimpse of her estranged husband leaning against the corner of the bar with his eldest brother, Oz. He was staring at her. It seemed as though lately all he did was stare at her. It was a pretty radical change considering he’d barely noticed her the last three years they’d been married. Three months after Tyler’s birth, Donal had started working endless hours and stopped paying any attention to his wife. Even their once active sex life had dwindled to nearly nonexistent.

Why couldn’t he pay this much attention to me while we were together?

She’d been a fool to come to the wedding in the first place knowing all her soon to be ex in-laws would be there. The whole lot of them probably thought she was a horrible person for filing for divorce from Donal, but then they hadn’t spent three years of a six-year marriage lying awake at night wondering if he was really at work or doing something--or someone--else.

Donal turned to say something to his brother, giving her a look at his handsome profile. She wasn’t ashamed to admit it had been his looks to catch her eye in the beginning. The first time she’d spotted him in a crowd at a high school soccer game, she hadn’t been able to stop staring. He’d been there to watch his younger brother play her school’s team in a matchup of long-time rivals.

He shifted abruptly, and their gazes locked. Stacey’s nipples peaked beneath her summer dress, and she felt a throbbing sensation between her legs. It had been like that between her and Donal when they first got together. The chemistry was explosive. Two kids, a mortgage, and their hectic life had changed things. Considering the lackluster state of their relationship in the last few years, she was surprised her body would react at all. Although her unpredictable hormones after the birth of their son three months earlier probably had something to do with that.

Stacey resisted the urge to fan herself. Donal would’ve known immediately, and giving him the idea she was beginning to change her mind about the divorce was on her short list of stupid things to do. Stacey wanted out. She wanted a relationship where she felt as though she were on equal ground. She didn’t want to look at every other woman who smiled at her husband and wonder if they’d spent the previous night flirting it up at McKinloch’s Pub where Donal worked. She didn’t want the “hot guy” anymore. She wanted the predictable, boring corporate executive. She wanted a perfect marriage like her parents had--a partnership where she ran the house and raised the children and her husband worked a steady, normal, nine-to-five job and came home every night for dinner.

A nudge against her arm brought Stacey back to the moment. “Hey, babe, I’ve got your drink.” Brett handed her a flute of champagne.

Stacey stood up and smoothed her skirt before offering her date a smile full of forced cheer. “Thanks!” She gulped the entire thing in one go. “Tyler and I were just checking out the june bugs.”

Tyler heard his name and grinned up at them, lifting his chubby little hands to show Brett his new buggy friend. If his expression was anything to go by, Brett wasn’t impressed. His tailored slacks, dress shirt, and imported shoes didn’t suggest he spent much time doing anything but sitting behind a desk in his brokerage firm’s office. Stacey knew he played golf, but his physique certainly didn’t suggest he’d last the hike across eighteen holes with a golf bag slung over his shoulder. He was her height, and thick in the waist with no hint of muscle definition. That, along with his thinning blond hair, made him exactly what she was looking for in a man the second time around. Brett would be a steady provider who didn’t draw too much attention, and would be home for dinner every night because he could leave his work at the office.

“Wanna hold him?” Tyler offered, smiling up at Brett.

Brett awkwardly patted Tyler on top of the head. “Gee thanks, sport, but I’m good.”

Tyler went back to his beetle. His ring bearer suit was filthy, but the pictures were over and done with, and Stacey couldn’t imagine trying to keep an active little boy clean while attending an outdoor reception.

Brett took a sip of his champagne. “Shouldn’t you tell him to stop playing in the dirt?”

“He won’t be three until next month. He doesn’t understand why he shouldn’t.” Stacey was starting to feel a bit miffed. Didn’t Brett like kids? He was dating her, after all, and she had two boys. It wasn’t like she expected him to raise her sons, but still. There was going to be a ton of dirt in her future.

Brett shrugged. “They call that parenting. Or maybe we could look into hiring a nanny if you’re incapable of handling it. At this rate he’s going to need a bath before he can get back in my car.”

Stacey was stunned he could be so callous toward her and her son. Her heartbeat began to flutter madly as she bit back the torrent of words she wanted to say. She couldn’t be rude to Brett no matter how badly she wanted to be. He was her father’s protégé. The man her parents thought was so perfect for her. The man she thought was perfect for her.

She pasted a smile on her face. “I really appreciate you coming with me tonight, Brett, but I know you’re busy. I was thinking about staying with friends if you’d like to take off.”

Brett pulled out his phone and began scanning text messages. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you on your own, but if you’d like to have a girls’ night, I won’t get in the way of that.”

“Oh absolutely!” Stacey aimed a wave at a group of women on the other side of the dance floor. “I see a few people I’d like to chat with, so I’ll just head right on over.” That, of course, was a total lie. There wasn’t one person at this party she felt comfortable talking to now that she’d filed for divorce from Donal McKinloch. These days she was practically a pariah in the Soulard area.

Brett tugged her close to his body. He was younger than Donal. Thirty-two to Stacey’s thirty. Stacey wished his ice-blue eyes and blond hair appealed to her. Unfortunately if she were totally honest, they really didn’t. At least she never had to worry about other women staring at him or hitting on him while her back was turned. Plus, her parents approved of him.

When he kissed her, she held her breath in anticipation. His lips were always slightly damp. He smelled nice, but she didn’t like the way he made her feel so smothered when he moved in close.

Brett cupped her backside and gave it a squeeze, something entirely inappropriate considering the situation. He moved his mouth to her ear and gave it a nibble. “I was sort of hoping you’d come by my place later on, after you took the rug rat home to your folks.”

“That sounds--nice,” she lied. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be done, though. Don’t you have an early golf game tomorrow?”

“That’s right, I do.” He nuzzled her neck. “Although I’ve been looking forward to getting you naked since the first night we met.”

Another awkward fact since they’d been dating six months, but her parents had introduced them well over a year and a half ago when she had still been with Donal. Stacey wished she felt as happy about her and Brett as a couple as her folks did. It would’ve made things a lot easier. She gave him her broadest smile and hoped it didn’t look as insane as it felt. “I’ll do my best to get out of here sooner rather than later so I can make it to your place.” Not.

“All right, honey.” He gave her a big wet kiss. “Call me.”

He turned and walked off without saying a word to Tyler. He didn’t even look back, although Stacey wasn’t sure she cared about that. She was still mentally reeling after his announcement that he was officially trying to get in her pants. There had been little pressure about a physical relationship at first because she’d been pregnant. After that she’d managed to put him off. Apparently her excuses were running thin.

She should’ve been ecstatic at the prospect of having sex. She was hornier than hell these days. Still, as difficult as it was to admit, she was horribly conflicted about the idea of being with someone else. Donal had been her first. After two babies and six years of marriage, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t scared shitless to have another man see her naked.

DONAL GRIPPED HIS whiskey glass so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter. It was a special brand of hell to watch another man kiss his wife less than a hundred yards away from him and be unable to do a damn thing about it. Stacey’s rich bastard of a boyfriend didn’t even see the way Tyler was frowning while he watched another man paw his mother.

Not that Donal didn’t understand why a man would have the urge to put his hands on Stacey. She’d always been pretty, but having their children had given her a certain something that made her incredibly beautiful. Her body was round in all the right places with fuller breasts, curvy hips, and an ass he longed to cup. Throw in the perpetually tousled shoulder-length blonde hair, sleepy green eyes, and full, pouting lips, and his wife looked as though she were made for pleasure.

“Have another drink, Donal.” Oz motioned to the bartender.

Donal shook his head. “No. I’m done. I’ve already had more than I should. A few more, and I’ll hunt that asshole down and rip off his balls.”

When Stacey’s new man walked away, Oz gave him a thorough evaluation from his designer-label shoes to the top of his overgelled head. “I’m not entirely sure he’d have any balls to rip off once you got him on the ground. Does he really think he can use product to paste hair over his bald spot? A dude who looks like that can’t possibly be a real man. He probably doesn’t even smell like one.”

Donal grinned in spite of himself. Stacey had always poked fun at the way Donal smelled. He didn’t have to wear cologne. He generally smelled like whatever sauce he’d been experimenting with last before he came home from the pub. She called it Eau de Yum.

The boyfriend strode off across the grounds toward the parking lot, leaving Stacey and Tyler all by themselves on the fringe of the party. Donal didn’t like it. He should’ve been glad her new man wasn’t treating her like a princess, but it didn’t sit well. He pushed away from the bar with the intention of moseying in Stacey’s direction.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Oz demanded.

“To talk to my wife.”

Oz snorted. “Ex-wife. She left you. Remember? Going over there is a bad idea.”

“I can be perfectly civil.” Donal threw his older brother a dirty look over his shoulder. “I seem to remember you’re the one who usually gets into fights at these things.”

Oz grunted, but didn’t respond. He hated weddings, loathed them in fact, though he’d never said why. The only reason he’d come to this one was because the groom was their youngest brother. You didn’t skip out on your baby brother’s wedding. At least a McKinloch didn’t.

Donal inhaled deeply of the soothing night air. It was unseasonably cool for June. More like a balmy autumn night. He could think of a million of those he’d spent with Stacey during six years of marriage. Why did this one seem as though the whole world rested on it?

Tyler spotted him first. “Daddy!” Tyler jumped up off the ground and wrapped his arms around Donal’s legs. “I found a june bug.”

Donal swung his son up into his arms, feeling the instant calm that always hit him when he held his children. “Let me see.”

Tyler opened his hand to show off his prize. “It’s green!”

“You must’ve caught the fastest june bug in the whole world, Chief.”

“Why?” Tyler demanded.

Donal pressed his face to his son’s tousled dark head and inhaled the familiar scent of childish sweat and the outdoors. “Because he got here a whole month early.”

Tyler dissolved into baby giggles until he spotted Donal’s mother across the garden. “There’s Gramma Ella!” Tyler squirmed. “I wanna go show her my bug.”

Donal set his son back on his feet. “Make sure you let her touch it, Chief. Gramma Ella loves bugs!”

Tyler bounded away as quickly as his short legs could take him. Donal watched him, waiting until he could hear Stacey shifting uncomfortably in the silence that lay so awkwardly between them. When he turned to face his wife, he was surprised to note she’d been watching him instead of their son.

Stacey gestured to Tyler and his grandmother. “He’s liable to put that bug right under her nose.”

“My mom raised four boys. She’s seen her fair share of bugs. It’s the snakes she could never handle.” Donal offered her what he hoped was a neutral smile. “I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze. She kept glancing at a gaggle of women half a dozen yards away who seemed intent on staring at the two of them. Donal wondered why. Was she expecting him to head over and ask one of the women to dance, or was she waiting for her new Prince Charming to come back and whisk her off to his castle?

“Where’s Brett?”

“Oh, uh--he had some stuff to do.” She began to edge away.

Donal hadn’t meant to chase her off. He just didn’t know what to say. He never did. Words weren’t his thing. He glanced around helplessly, desperate for inspiration. His gaze fell on the couples swaying gently to the rhythm of a lazy ballad beneath the glow of the torches.

He extended a hand to Stacey. “Want to dance?”

“Is that a good idea?” She glanced longingly at the smooth wood floor nestled into the green expanse of lawn.

At least she hadn’t outright refused. Dancing had always come naturally to them as a couple. Donal’s mother was the old-fashioned sort. She’d made her boys take dance lessons until they could move like Fred Astaire. Plus, dancing didn’t require that Donal come up with fancy words. “Come on, Stace. You know there’s a debutante in a white dress inside your soul just begging to get out there.”

She glanced up at him in surprise, reaching for his hand as though she truly couldn’t resist. Donal had meant the white dress comment as a reference to her coming out as a deb, not as a reminder of their wedding. Still, the first time they’d taken the floor as man and wife wasn’t something he’d ever forget.

“I guess we could dance one song, just to be polite,” she said hesitantly.

He threaded his fingers with hers and tried not to focus on how right it felt to pull her into the curve of his body as they walked toward the dance floor. It shouldn’t be like this. How could it feel as though nothing had changed when in reality nothing was the same?

Copyright © Kaitlin Maitland

Junebugs, Haunted Houses & Jack-o'-Lanterns - All Romance Ebooks

Enter for a Chance to Win a FREE Copy of Encore!

 Between writing, editing, and reading the final product there seems to be some kind of weird mojo that happens. It's a point where I look up from my reading and say to myself, "Wow, did I actually WRITE that?" This can either be good or bad, but it has a really profound effect on the way I view my work and my characters.

Now, the reason I just flopped all that info onto the page was to make this point--I LOVE this book. Encore was one of those projects that just sort of exploded onto the page in huge amounts. Like I'd sit down to whip off a few pages and look up from my computer three hours and forty five pages later and be totally amazed at how much I'd gotten done.

Of course the other thing about Encore is that it's fairly long. We call it a long novel. Initially I was rather apprehensive about not shaving it down to the same length as say, Impetuous. Fortunately for you readers and my characters, my editor had other ideas. She is absolutely amazing at taking the entire picture into consideration. Thus the end product is a book I still enjoy reading, and one with characters that continually pop up in other stories. For those of you who enjoy my Boston Avant-Garde series as a whole, you'll be seeing Dante, Jericho, and Suri again in Chiaroscuro, which is scheduled to release on December 31 of this year.

So I'd encourage anyone who'd like a print copy of Encore to click on over to Goodreads and enter to win one of four I'm giving away. The winners will be drawn on September 19, so don't miss out on your chance for a free copy.

For now, I'll leave you with just a teaser...

CONFUSION MINGLED WITH desire in Jericho’s mind until he couldn’t separate one from the other. Dante’s lips were firm, the kiss unlike any that Jericho had experienced. It wasn’t distasteful. It didn’t feel wrong. And damned if his cock wasn’t sitting up to take notice.

What did that mean?

Was Dante right? If gay was just a stereotype, and desire wasn’t gender-based, did that mean Jericho might find himself bored of Suri and
attracted to another guy?

Something akin to pain lanced through Jericho’s chest. He closed his eyes against the sensation. The thought of being with anyone else, male or female, was unacceptable.

“It’s getting late.” Dante turned to look over the balustrade again. Below them, the club was in full swing. “I think the place can take care of itself.”

Dante was leaving, heading back the way they’d come. Jericho took a few steps, leaving the marble for the thick carpet. He was torn by a longing to stick with what felt comfortable and an even stronger urge to explore what felt amazingly right.

“Are you coming?” Torn by the duality of everything he felt, Jericho couldn’t even find the words to respond. “This isn’t about making you uncomfortable, Jericho. It’s about finding pleasure in as many ways as we can.”

Dante made it sound so reasonable. As if Jericho would be nuts to turn down a chance to share that kind of intense passion with not one but two lovers...

A Teaser of Good Things to Come...

A little tease from my upcoming new release, book number five of my Boston Avant-Garde series--Bellicoso...

SELENA HAD TO fight the urge to clamp her legs together when the stranger spoke. Arousal curled around her nerves and made her hot and wet without knowing the reason why. The only one who’d ever drawn such a visceral reaction from her gut was Malachi. Had her little adventure at Triptych unlocked some weird sixth sense she’d been unaware of until that moment?

Ms. Warren was trying to introduce them. “Mr. Yen is the coguardian of one of the students in this class. Ms. Aasen is going to be teaching dance for us while she continues her own training.”

This guy’s presence was reducing Selena’s intellect to that of an idiot’s. The headmistress would definitely rethink her decision to add Selena to the staff if she could barely babble a greeting. Scraping together what was left of her composure, Selena sucked in a deep breath and gave Mr. Yen her brightest smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Malachi was handsome the way she’d always thought a Greek god would be. Mr. Yen was another kind altogether. He exuded dangerous like his own personal brand of pheromone. She’d never been attracted to an Asian guy in her life, but she’d never met anyone like him. He was only an inch or two taller than she was. His faded jeans and blue T-shirt hugged his spare frame, and his bare forearms were ripped with the kind of muscle that came from hours spent on physical pursuits.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone bone-dry. She lifted her gaze to his face and was trapped by the beauty of his impossibly black eyes. Thick, silky hair hung in his face, and she had to forcibly restrain herself from reaching out to push it back. Remnants of the night Jackson had threatened her drifted through her mind. She’d had only the barest impression of dark hair and unfathomable black eyes.

No way. It’s not possible.

Still, Mr. Yen had a powerful aura. What would it be like to have the right to touch this man? To stroke his golden skin and run her fingers through the fall of hair before pressing her mouth against his full lips?

He took her hand and gently rubbed her palm. “A pleasure to meet you, Selena.”

Her knees sagged, and she struggled to remain upright. His satin baritone was the perfect counterpoint to the memory of Malachi’s bass tones that still whispered in her mind. A strange instinct made her want to kneel before this man. Doing so would’ve been as natural as the hedonistic experience she’d had with Malachi and the flogger.

Don't miss your chance to find out what happens in Bellicoso - releasing July 28 from Loose Id

The Bar is Back in Business...

I think my favorite setting of all time is always going to be a bar. It doesn't matter what the storyline is, the sheer ambiance of a bar just fits. In some cases, (I'm thinking specifically of McKinloch's in my newest series), even a good old fashioned pub is the perfect place to hang out with my characters. That said, some of you might remember one bar in particular that exists only in my imagination, and in the wildest fantasies of a LOT of my readers.

Yep, I'm talking about the Phoenix Rising.

I've had a lot of emails since the first book in the Phoenix Trilogy released back in 2009. (Whoops, did I just let the cat out of the bag?) Most of you want to know where the hell the bar really is and whether or not you can plan a trip. I've even had some locals wondering if they don't have the scoop on where this place really is.

Truthfully, the Phoenix only exists in my head and on paper. If you haven't yet, pick up a copy of the first book. It re-released in 2012 with my new publisher, Etopia Press. I can promise anyone who reads it a gritty, realistic, and sometimes erotically animalistic journey. And I hope that all of you new to the bar and its cast of characters will fall in love with not only Jessa and Connor, who own the first book, but also with our friendly neighborhood bartender Alex.

Which brings me to the point of this post. When I said the bar is back in business, I wasn't kidding. After a LOT of drama, a lot of planning, and a whole lot of writing, I'm psyched to announce that the second book in the Trilogy, Phoenix Burning, is in production. We've gone through edits and while I'm still waiting on the edge of my seat for cover art, I'm really excited at how the final product has turned out.

Just like the first book, my readers are going to find that there's not just an erotic side to this story. There's something just a little dark too. Except that it isn't just dark. It's a story about the light and the dark sides of human emotion and how they affect us throughout our lives. It's about the choices we make and how those choices affect not only our lives but the lives of everyone we meet.

But that's enough of a teaser for the moment. There's going to be more to come. I promise! And you might want to know why a Trilogy and not another series? Honestly? I've just always wanted to write a Trilogy.



And if you missed out on your introduction to the bar where anything goes and hedonistic pleasure is encouraged...

Pick it up here!

So You THINK You Want to Know What the Forefathers Would've Said???

I think it's safe to say that we're all just a tad weary of hearing the political commentators rip each other's throats out regarding things like gun control and fiscal responsibility. What caught my attention the other night though, was a buxom redhead screeching at the top of her lungs that the founding fathers would NEVER have condoned the use of automatic weapons. They would have NEVER approved this, or they would have NEVER... Of course she was cut off by someone else and then the "discussion" dissolved into a yelling match where nobody could understand anything anyone else was saying anyway.

Of course what stuck with me was the moaning and groaning this woman was doing about wishing she could get advice from the great minds that shaped our Constitution... Really? Let me ask you again, are you SURE?

I don't think it takes a seance or any kind of time machine to get a pretty accurate picture of what our founding fathers would have said about current events today IF you were foolish enough to ask them. First of all, men like Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin would have been incensed at the idea of a woman voicing her opinion on a political topic. So I'm guessing their first reponse would have been "SHUT UP!"

Another thing, these guys were white, land owning males. They would have told the female commentator to shut up only long enough for them to process the notion that the American public had elected a black man to the office of the President. Once they managed to wrap their minds around that, they would have gone out and bought up as many automatic weapons as they could lay their hands on.

These guys LOVED weapons. They would have been THRILLED at the idea of owning something that could lay waste to their opponents. We're talking about guys who had just come through a bloody war for independence from the British crown. They had seen horrendous carnage on battlefields where soldiers suffered from conditions that our modern minds cannot possibly comprehend. You might make a brief argument that the great minds who formed the Constitution were tired of war and wanted to lay down their arms and value life, but you'd probably be wrong. These were the same guys that came up with the Second Amendment. The right to bear arms. What does this mean exactly?

Our forefathers knew that an armed populace is an empowered one. They wanted the right to own weapons so that they could stand up to tyranny if it took root in their government once again. These men might have been tired of bloody fighting. But you can be damn sure they considered owning the biggest stick the best form of war prevention.

Now, before you go burning my books in effigy--My point is simply this...

We cannot look back and whine and moan about what our founding fathers, or what the writers of the Constitution might have thought because even if it were possible to ask them you'd never get the answer you wanted. They TOLD us what they thought. They valued men. Specifically white, land owning men. They wanted guns. They wanted their privacy. They wanted the right to practice their own religion. (Which started out with a mostly puritanical framework) They wanted to say whatever they wanted about whoever they wanted to. And really, they hated the concept of a federal government anyway. Doesn't anyone remember what a high value they placed on State's Rights?

More so, we shouldn't WANT to go ask them what they think. What matters is that WE remember where we came from, and that we've evolved, and what that evolution has cost us. Technology has given us incredible luxuries, power, and the fearful responsibilities that go along with it. But sometimes we must take our priviledged heads out of our priviledged asses and remember that giving away the freedoms guaranteed by that musty old document is NEVER a wise thing to do. Governments are a lot like teenagers. Give them an inch, and they'll not only take a mile, they'll use that first inch to tie you up and leave you in the dust. It is up to the people, not the feds, and certainly not the media machine--to determine what is right for our nation.

The Best Stocking Stuffer EVER!

Looking for something in YOUR stocking? How about a holiday romance that is a promising first installment of a great new series?

As always, I LOVE to hear from my readers. This book is a slight deviation from my norm, which is always just a little scary. Still, I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of my new fave family...the McKinlochs.

About the book

Genre: Contemporary; Holidays

Length: Novella

Series: Clan McKinloch

Everything has gone downhill for Ashton since the hot summer night she spent with a military man she hardly knew. Her career is in a shambles, her dreams of traveling abroad are impossible, and her love life is in the toilet. Worse, one of her coworkers has decided she’s the perfect girl for him. Too bad her heart is fixed on the guy she kissed beneath the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Trip McKinloch has never been the favorite son. McKinlochs are supposed to settle down close to home, marry, and help run the family pub. Instead, Trip joined the Air Force, has lived overseas for years, and is in love with a woman he shared one night with during his Fourth of July leave.

When Trip goes home for the holidays he is shocked to discover that the woman he cannot forget is now working as a bartender in his family’s Pub. Worse still, Trip’s brother Gavin has a hefty crush on Ashton and a grudge against Trip that could spell yuletide disaster. Now Trip has to find a way to convince everyone that the footloose McKinloch has finally found the one woman who feels just like home.

An excerpt from the book

Ravenous hordes of people crowded the vendor tents set up on the Arch grounds. Whether spurred by the introduction of Dr. Pepper and hot dogs at the 1904 World’s Fair or a citywide cultural preference, St. Louisans took their food very seriously. Tantalizing smells wafted through the sultry night air, and the boom of the first round of fireworks drowned out the cacophony of voices. What was left of the lawn had been crushed to yellow fuzz beneath the flip-flops of fairgoers. 

Ashton wished she had a clothespin for her nose. The scent of Pappy’s Smokehouse BBQ was more than her frail willpower could take. She’d been determined not to overindulge this Fourth of July. She’d gained almost five pounds eating Ted Drewes Frozen Yogurt and Gus’s Pretzels during last year’s Fair St. Louis. 

I am not hungry. I am not hungry. 

A family of four carrying waffle cones filled with melting chocolate ice cream passed her by. Ash kept striding resolutely away from the food in search of her friends. Luce and their usual crew were supposed to have grabbed the perfect vantage point on the steps overlooking the river. Her friend had texted Ash a picture of their spot near the center railing. She would have already joined them had she not needed to take a desperate trip to the porta johns set up on the other side of the Arch. 

An instrumental patriotic medley filled the air as the fireworks got underway. Ash slowed to a stop. She couldn’t resist watching the brilliant colors sparkle through the sky over the river. The rockets were shot from a fleet of six barges in the central canal of the Mississippi River below. 

The faint odor of burned gunpowder triggered memories of the sparklers, jumping jacks, and Roman candles Ash and her father had always lit off to celebrate the Fourth. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and rubbed her sweaty palms against her denim skirt. Even dressed in a tank top with her long hair up in a ponytail, she felt grimy and overheated after a day at the fair. Luckily the coconut-scented sunscreen she constantly slathered over her pale skin to protect her “redheaded” complexion kept her smelling tolerable. 

A scuffle broke out to her left. “Hey, dickhead, watch where you’re stepping.” 

Ash attempted a hasty step backward, but she stumbled into a throng of strange men. All were on the large side with close-cropped hair. They were most likely military men from the air base across the river. The first guy grabbed the second one and shoved him in her direction. The impact sent her sprawling. 

“What’s your problem?” The guy who’d accidentally run her over didn’t seem concerned that she was collateral damage. He was too distracted by whoever had pushed him. 

The ground was hard beneath Ash’s rump. She tried to scramble to her feet, but someone stomped her hand. “Ow!” The blow brought tears to her eyes. 

“Stand down, Airman.” A commanding baritone sliced through the fracas. “You’re trampling this poor lady to death. If you can’t behave, I’ll ship your ass back to the base before curfew. Is that clear?” 

“Yessir. Crystal clear, sir.” 

A hand reached down and plucked Ash off the ground. It was warm and firm with a gentle grip that promised the owner knew how to handle a woman. Her nerves sang from her fingers all the way to her toes. She felt like a schoolgirl who’d just discovered the difference between girls and boys. 

“Are you all right?” The impromptu rescuer led her a slight distance from the crowd of airmen. “Some of us military types forget that not everyone is trying to stab us in the back.” 

“I’m fine, really.” Ash stared up at the tall, broad-shouldered man in khaki cargo shorts and a plain gray T-shirt. It was too dim on the lawn to see what color his eyes were, although his short hair was dark. Was it possible to tell by someone’s aura whether or not they were hot? Because this guy’s aura was screaming gorgeous. 

Gorgeous, provocative, seductive, alluring--how many other words can I come up with for yummy? 

“Are you out here by yourself, ma’am?” He hadn’t let go of her hand and was now scanning the people milling about as if he was determined to find somewhere to put her. 

She had to swallow a few times before her voice would work. “I’m meeting my friends by the steps.” 

“Your boyfriend shouldn’t let you walk around the fair alone, ma’am. It’s dark, and there are a thousand lowlifes skulking around out here.” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment.” Ash couldn’t help it. She laughed. “And skulking lowlifes? Really?” 

“Sorry, was that a little too dramatic?” Even in the reflected light of the fireworks, she could see the smile on his face. His features were bold, especially his strong jawline. “My name is Trip, by the way.” 

“Well that’s ironic.” She wondered who’d given him the nickname and why. Surely that wasn’t his real name. “I’m Ashton.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ashton.” 

He brought her fingers up to his lips in a gesture that made the bottom drop out of her stomach. The delicate sensation of his lips brushing over her skin sent tendrils of warmth licking silkily over her entire body. She’d never been attracted to someone like this. Never. 

He kept hold of her fingers as if reluctant to let go. “Can I walk you over to find your friends?” 

He smelled good. In an aromatic world of spicy food and flocks of people, how could she possibly pick out his scent? Oh, but she had. It was amazing. Sandalwood, mint, and something utterly male, it had lingered below her radar until she tried to grab a breath in order to speak. 

Trip had asked her something, and she still hadn’t answered. He was going to think she was an idiot. Forcing her brain to function, she hoped she wouldn’t come off sounding too eager. “You’re more than welcome to come with me. My friend Luce promised she grabbed a great spot to watch from. You can join us if you’d like.” 

The offer had seemed like a good one, in theory. Ashton’s heart sank when she realized she was taking this hot specimen of manliness to meet a hot specimen of femininity. Once Trip met Luce, he’d instantly forget Ash. 

Trip set a leisurely pace, heading down the hill and away from the thickest of the crowd that littered the lawn with blankets and picnic baskets. “Are you from around here, Ashton?” 

“I live in Soulard.” Ash paused when he did to watch a particularly bright flash of blue explode into burning white stars that sprinkled the sky. 

In the light of the explosion, she could see his teeth flash in a smile. “So practically right down the street then.” 

“What about you? You bossed those testosterone-loaded partiers like a pro. So I’m assuming you’re military something or another.” Ash wondered if it would be better or worse for him to be from St. Louis, stationed nearby, or just passing through. 

He chuckled, reaching up and rubbing a hand across his short hair. “Funny how that works, actually. I’m not even stationed over at the base, and I don’t have a clue who those guys were.” 

“And they listened to you anyway? That’s sort of bizarre.” Ash could have launched into an entire conversation about preconditioned responses, but she refrained. There was no need to make this guy think she was some kind of freak. 

“Honestly, they’re conditioned to follow orders. I’m an air force captain, so I’m conditioned to give orders.” He shrugged. “Its just habit.” 

Ash couldn’t hide her fascination. “So basically the training you guys receive makes it possible for anyone with authority to assume command. That way, if there’s an emergency, you don’t have to go through all that proving crap just to give a few basic orders and get something done quick.” 

He gave her a strange look. He probably thought she was a total geek. Ash sighed. Why did guys always want some giggling, vapid beauty queen who said her fondest wish for humanity was “whirled peas”? 

“Are you in psychology or something?” Trip asked. 

Here it was. The inevitable brush-off. “Actually, I’m an office manager for a dentist. People are really interesting to me. Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.” 

“No, I like it,” he said. 

Something undeniably sad touched his face. Ash wished she could see more clearly, but the erratic flashes from the overhead fireworks weren’t enough to see detail. He seemed almost wistful. 

Trip lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real two-sided conversation about something other than ordnance, who’s sleeping with whom, or why so-and-so didn’t do what he or she said they would.” 

Ashton’s insides clenched at the contact. Who was this guy, and how had she managed to find him in the madness of Fair St. Louis? She tried to find something she could say that would encourage him to keep talking without making her sound pushy. “That sounds as if it might get tedious after a while.” 

“It is. I’m home on leave from Afghanistan. My air force unit has been deployed for the last nineteen months.” He gazed at the sky, the vivid display of rockets reflected off the metallic Arch. “I’ve only been home ten days, but I leave again tomorrow.” 

Ash forgot her petty war against calories and fretting about being less attractive than Luce. This nice guy was about to leave for an uncertain world Ash could not possibly imagine. Compared to his, her problems didn’t even register on the scale. 

He glanced back down, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t do any good to be a big wet blanket. I’ve had a great time while I’ve been on leave, and that’s what matters.” 

“What have you done for ten days?” Ash was determined to be upbeat and positive. “What do airmen do when they’re on vacation?” 

She couldn’t miss the pure mischief on his face. Not even in the near dark. “Depends on the airman.” 

“What have you done?” 

“I spent a lot of time with my family.” He wandered a little farther across the grounds. She could see the outline of the steps crowded with fairgoers. 

It wouldn’t be long, and their oddly private walk would be over. Ash was sad at the prospect. “Was there a woman waiting to spend time with you while you were home?” 

“Nope. I’m single.” He stopped and turned to face her. “That’s what you were getting at, right?” 

She could’ve happily sunk right into the hillside. Instead, she scrambled for a pithy comeback. “I was, actually. Kind of like when you asked why my boyfriend let me wander around the fair by myself.” 

“Guilty as charged.” His gaze felt like a physical caress. “Can’t slip anything past you, can I?” 

“I hope not.” 

He paused, and she could feel his gaze lingering over every inch of her. “Your hair is really beautiful.” 

Her breath stuck in her throat as he twirled a stray curl around his index finger. Nobody ever called her hair beautiful. It had to be the funky light. Her hair was six shades of red. Not auburn, not cinnamon, just plain in-your-face red. Worse, it was curly. She’d been Little Orphan Annie every Halloween for ten years because it was the only costume her poor dad could come up with. 

“Can I kiss you, Ashton?” Trip took her other hand. “I’m being pushier than I normally would be, but I’m leaving tomorrow. You’re...different...in a way I didn’t think existed. Everything lately has been so heavy.” He stopped talking as if he didn’t want to think about the overwhelming portions of his life. Seconds later, his face eased into a warm smile. “You make me think life hasn’t really gone to hell. I’d like to have that memory to take with me when I go back.” 

Oh. My. God. 

“You want to remember me?” She was melting inside, and it had nothing to do with the hot, muggy air. 

“God, yes.” He drew her arms upward until her hands were locked around his neck and she was stretched full length against his hard body. “In fact, I’d like to have a lot more to remember. But a kiss is a good start, and I’ll take whatever you’re comfortable giving.” 

She squeaked when his mouth descended to hers. It was like sinking into velvet. He tasted spicy and male, like his scent, only better. He kissed like a master, something that should’ve scared her but didn’t. Somehow the shadowy specters of his past lovers didn’t matter any more than her lack of experience. 

His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, begging entrance. She opened, and he pushed inside her mouth. He didn’t dominate. He coaxed, drawing her deeper. She moved against him, eagerly taking what he gave before sliding her tongue into his mouth in return. 

It was hot and carnal, the raw sensation of two people exploring the scent and taste of each other. The kiss left her squirming with an ache between her legs. She arched up on tiptoes and felt a bulge between them. Instead of making her back off, it excited her. She’d never felt so wanted, so powerful and feminine all at once. It was heady, and she wanted more. 

He finally broke away, his breath ragged. “I think I need to stop before I can’t.” 

“Don’t.” She nipped his lower lip. “Stop, I mean. You said you wanted more. I want to give it to you.” 

Trip groaned and pressed his forehead against hers. “Darlin’, don’t say things like that. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I might never come back. You’re not the kind of girl who goes around having one-night stands. I can tell that from one kiss.” 

“You’re right, normally, but even if I never see you again--I won’t regret this.” She looked up at a purple-and-red burst of shooting stars. How could it be wrong when it felt so right? “I think this is probably the most romantic moment of my whole life. Why stop now?”

Copyright © Kaitlin Maitland

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Fast Fall Freefall

You're probably thinking- "Wow! With a title like that, this post is sure to be something totally awesome." Uh, not to burst your bubble, but I'm just a big fan of aliteration. Seriously, Fast Fall Freefall. Say it five times fast. I dare you.

However, that doesn't mean this post won't be awesome. It is. I think. Although I'm making it up as I go so I've got no idea WHAT it's going to be... Oh wait! I've got it! Let's talk about something that really counts as we step into fall and realize that wham! the holidays are right around the effing corner.

Mental health. Everyone's fave topic.

Really though, I'm not kidding. How many of us get into fall and start feeling stressed out? Stress doesn't have to be classic either. You don't need to be one of those whiners who moans and groans and pops Xanax. Sometimes stress sufferers are quiet. They plug along in the background until they just drop from exhaustion. That's not a good thing people!

Stress causes all kinds of icky health problems. So don't let yourself be overwhelmed. Take a step back and recognize those signs that you maybe need a day to yourself. You know what they are. We all feel it creeping up. Maybe you snap at people when they ask you something mundane. Maybe you're having trouble sleeping because your mind is racing around trying to anticipate every little aspect of the day to come. Maybe you're ready to crawl into a corner, curl into the fetal position and just hide until global warming finishes up and we all turn into toast points. Whatever!

So here's a quick tip- its OKAY to call in sick or take a personal day and just lay in bed. I'm not joking here. If you find yourself on the brink, DO it! Don't wait for the men in white. Crawl back into bed after the kids go to school, or your significant other leaves, or whatever, just crawl back in bed and watch soap operas, or Oprah, or play video games if that's what you love. Hell, spend the day doing Farmville or one of those bubble popping games. (Of course you might want to hide your new high scores from your work friends if you're playing hooky) Point is, take that day and use it to recharge your mental batteries. We need that time to literally do nothing important. That helps to reset the brain, the emotional state, and even the heart in some cases.

Now, once you get reset? Then its time to build some decompression time into your daily or weekly schedule. You need to discover what works for you and utilize it. Don't give me that "I don't have time." crap either. You either make time or you go nuts, pull your hair out, and have a heart attack. It's that simple. Spending some quality time with yourself, doing something that you love, that's a huge part of mental health.

We don't all do the same things. Me? For those of you who know me, I'm a horse fanatic with a capital F-A-N-A-T-I-C. I don't deny myself those hours spent with Mercy. They're important to me. Even on days I don't ride, its good to go out and groom her, wash that massive tail, give her some beauty treatments, and just be silent. Nobody can share a comfortable silence like Mercy Me. I'm telling you, she's therapy GOLD!

That's not the only thing I do to protect my mental health though. It's a full time occupation, I promise. I have two kids, a few part time gigs, my writing, a husband, and grad school. I NEED to keep myself from losing my mind. It's imperative. So I'm careful about what I focus on. Sometimes I deliberately procrastinate. I know that sounds bad, but occasionally its okay to say, "Hey, I really cannot deal with this right now. So I'm going to make a date to do it tomorrow. And right now, I'm going to go sit in front of the Playstation and veg." And that is OKAY! Let the house get a little dirty, let the laundry pile up, make yourself a list of things that have to get done and prioritize. Do what really cannot be put off and then go relax for awhile. If your schedule is so tight you cannot afford to procrastinate, make it an hour, a half hour, fifteen effing minutes! Something! I'm not kidding here, whatever task you think HAS to be done? It'll get done in half the time and at double the quality if you just take a break and then get to it.

So as our fast fall freefall approaches, don't neglect yourself. Don't neglect your emotional state just to project an image of someone who has it all together. And all those people out there who seem like they DO have it together? They're pretending too, unless they've mastered the art of decompression.

Remember- you should always make time to pick up a book and read for awhile. Escape to the Extraordinary people- NOT just a catchphrase. It's a lifestyle choice. One you won't regret.