Monday, April 22, 2013

Virtual Book Tour - What She Wants by Sheila Roberts

Welcome to my stop on Sheila Roberts' Virtual Book Tour for What She Wants.  Please leave a comment or question for Sheila below to let her know you stopped by.  You can enter her tour wide giveaway by filling out the Rafflecopter below.  Sheila will be awarding a print copy of What She Wants (US/Canada only) to 10 randomly drawn commenters during the tour. A Grand Prize of a $25 eHarlequin coupon plus a finished copy of What She Wants (US/Canada only) will be awarded to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. You can follow her tour stops here.  You can also check out my review here.  


Guest Post - “Happy Birthday to You”... Singing My Way to a Writing Career by Sheila Roberts

     I’ve been a working writer for years. In fact, I was writing long before I ever sold my first book. But there was a time when I expected my life to go in a very different direction. Once upon a time I owned a singing telegram company. 

     This was great fun. I got to write and sing ditties to people for every possible occasion. If there was something to celebrate, someone from our little company would be on hand, wearing a tux and top hat and deliver a long stemmed flower or boutonniere and belting out our congratulations for everyone in the office, warehouse, or restaurant to hear. On Valentines Day we were especially busy, serenading sweethearts all over the greater Seattle area. Christmas was another busy time. In addition to sending out singers we had a quartet of Dickens carolers who would sing in restaurants and stores around town.

     Eventually we hired several singers but when we first started the company I was the lone ham. And I had some interesting gigs. I sang on a local TV show. I crashed a barn dance once dressed as Dolly Parton. (I loved that blonde wig!) I boarded a naval destroyer to sing to Mickey Mouse (who was descending on Seattle to celebrate one of Disney’s many anniversaries). I even sang at a snake race, which was sponsored by a local radio station. Mostly though I had fun singing my little heart out, helping people celebrate their special days.

     So, how on earth did I get into this? Well, it all started when I baked a cake for my best friend’s birthday and came to her office to sing happy birthday to her. After I left she and her co-worker got talking and came up with this crazy idea to form a singing telegram company. But where could they get the songs? Where could they find a fool to sing them? A couple of days later I got a call from my friend and shortly after that Serendipty Song Senders was born. We were the first of our kind and we had a great time with our little company.

     I learned a lot from that experience and it’s stood me well in my writing career

     First, I learned that no idea is too crazy. Sometimes we talk ourselves out of the best adventures by saying things like, “Well, that’s silly,” or, “No one will buy that idea.” I wonder how many people scoffed at the idea of putting a man on the moon. I wonder how many people tried to talk Walt Disney out of his amusement park. One of my favorite quotes is actually a Disney quote: “If you can dream it you can do it.” Dreams can come true. But we have to invest effort into those dreams to make them come to life.

     Second I learned that there is great reward in throwing yourself into whatever you do. I can’t tell you the satisfaction I got from writing the ditties I sang for birthdays, anniversaries and retirement parties. I wasn’t exactly writing the Hallelujah Chorus but the little songs I was creating were helping to make lovely memories for people.

     From singing telegrams I advanced to singing in a band and writing songs. Songwriting was my passion. More than anything I wanted to be in Nashville, writing songs. While I took lots of trips to Nashville I never could convince my family they wanted to move there to chase my dream. Still, I kept on writing.

     And then one day I got an idea for a book. Well, now, that would be fun to do. Fortunately, nobody told me I didn’t know what the heck I was doing or how hard it would be to get published. Nobody reminded me that I’d never written a book before. So I plunged in and wrote my book – a big, juicy novel about my mother-in-law’s life in Australia. Sadly, that book never got published. But along came another idea. I had a friend who was writing at the time and I thought I should share my great idea with her. She might like to use it. Then I realized I didn’t want to share. I wanted to write this story myself. So, once again I wrote a book. All longhand. The book finally got typed and I pulled an agent’s name out of a book and shot her a letter. Lo and behold, she wanted to see the rest of the book. The next thing I knew she had a publisher who wanted to buy the book. And so I stumbled into my writing career.

     Now I’m writing books instead of singing telegrams. I’m not writing War and Peace. I know that. But I’m writing about something I enjoy. I’m writing about love and women’s friendships and community. And small towns, my ideal place to live. I hope what I’m writing is bringing a smile to my readers’ faces. And if I’m doing that then I’m well pleased.

     And, by the way, I’m still writing songs on the side because, like Walt Disney said, if you can dream it you can do it. What’s your dream? Whatever it is, I hope you haven’t given up on it.


What She Wants 
by Sheila Roberts
Life in Icicle Falls, Book 3

Publisher: Harlequin Mira
Release Date: March 26, 2013

Buy Links:     Amazon             B&N          ARe

Book Description:

What do women want?

Jonathan Templar and his poker buddies can't figure it out. Take Jonathan, for instance. He's been in love with Lissa Castle since they were kids but, geek that he is, she's never seen him as her Mr. Perfect. He has one last shot—their high school reunion. Kyle Long is equally discouraged. The pretty receptionist at his office keeps passing him over for other guys who may be taller but are definitely not superior. And Adam Edwards might be the most successful of Jonathan's friends, but he isn't having any success on the home front. His wife's kicked him out.

When Jonathan stumbles on a romance novel at the Icicle Falls library sale, he knows he's found the love expert he's been seeking—Vanessa Valentine, top-selling romance author. At first his buddies laugh at him for reading romance novels, but soon they, too, realize that these stories are the world's best textbooks on love. Poker night becomes book club night…and when all is read and done, they're going to be the kind of men women want!


Working in such close quarters with a woman that you could bump knees (thighs, and maybe even other body parts) was probably every man's dream job. Except Dot Morrison's knees were knobby and she was old enough to be Jonathan Templar's grandmother. And she looked like Maxine of greeting card fame. So there was no knee (or anything else) bumping going on today.

"Okay, you're good to go," he said, pushing back from the computer in the office at Breakfast Haus, Dot's restaurant. "But remember, what I told you. If you want your computer to run more efficiently you've got to slick your hard drive once in awhile."

"There you go talking dirty to me again," Dot cracked.

A sizzle sneaked onto Jonathan's cheeks, partly because old ladies didn't say thing like that (Jonathan's grandma sure didn't), and partly because he'd never talked dirty to a woman in his life. Well, not unless you counted a Playboy centerfold. When talking with most real-life women, his tongue had a tendency to tie itself into more knots than a bag of pretzels, especially when a woman was good-looking. This, he told himself, was one reason he was still single at the ripe old age of thirty-three. That and the fact that he wasn't exactly the stuff a woman's dreams were made of. It was a rare woman who dreamed of a skinny, bespectacled guy in a button-down shirt. Those weren't the only reasons, though. Carrying a torch for someone tended to interfere with a guy's love life.

Never certain how to respond to Dot's whacked-out sense of humor, he merely smiled, shook his head and packed up his briefcase.

"Seriously," she said, "I'm glad this didn't turn out to be anything really bad. But if it had, I know I could count on you. You can't ever leave Icicle Falls. What would us old bats do when we have computer problems?"

"You'd manage," Jonathan assured her.

"I doubt it. Computers are instruments of torture to anyone over the age of sixty."

"No worries," he said. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"Until you meet Ms. Right. Then you'll be gone like a shot." The look she gave him was virtually a guarantee that something was about to come out of her mouth that would make him squirm. Sure enough. "We'll have to find you a local girl."

Just what he needed - Dot Morrison putting the word out that Jonathan Templar, computer nerd, was in the market for a local girl. He didn't want a local girl. He wanted …

"Tilda's available."

Tilda Morrison, super cop? She could easily bench-press Jonathan. "Uh, thanks for the offer, but I think she needs someone tougher."

"There's a problem. Nobody's as tough as Tilda. Damn, I raised that girl wrong. At this rate I'm never going to get grandchildren." Dot shrugged and reached for a cigarette. "Just as well, I supposed. I'd have to spend all my free hours baking cookies for the little rodents."

Sometimes it was hard to know whether or not Dot was serious, but this time Jonathan was sure she didn't mean what she'd said. She was only trying to make the best of motherly frustration. Dot wanted grandkids. Anyone who's seen her interacting with the families who came into the restaurant could tell that. It was a wonder she made any money with all the free hot chocolate she slipped her younger patrons.

She lit up and took a deep drag on her cigarette. Her little office at the back of the restaurant kitchen was about to get downright smoggy. Washington State law prohibited smoking in public places, but Dot maintained that her office wasn't a public place. Jonathan suspected one of these days she and the local health inspector were going to get into it over the cigarettes she sneaked in this room.

"I'd better get going," he said, gathering his things and trying not to inhale the second hand smoke pluming his direction.

"You gonna bill me as usual?"


"Don't gouge me," she teased.

"Wouldn't dream of it. And put your glasses on to read your bill this time," he teased back as he made for the door. He always tried to give Dot a senior discount and she always overpaid him, claiming she'd misread the bill. Yep, Dot was a great customer.

Heck, all his customers were great, he thought as he made his way to Sweet Dreams Chocolate Company, where Elena the secretary was having a nervous breakdown thanks to a new computer that she swore was possessed.

The scent of chocolate floating up from the kitchens below greeted him as he walked in the office door and Elena looked at him as if he was St. George come to slay a dragon. "Thank God you're here."

People were always happy to see the owner and sole employee of Geek Gods Mobile Computer Service. Once Jonathan arrived on the scene they knew their troubles would be fixed.

He liked that, liked feeling useful. So he wasn't a mountain of muscle like Luke Goodman, who was the production manager at Sweet Dreams, or a mover and shaker like Blake Preston, manager of Cascade Mutual. Some men were born to have starring roles and big, juicy parts on the stage of life. Others were meant to build scenery, pull the curtains, work in the background to make sure everything on stage ran well. Jonathan was a back stage kind of guy. Nothing wrong with that, he told himself. Background workers made it possible for the show to go on.

But leading ladies never noticed the guy in the background. Jonathan heaved a sigh. Sometimes he felt like Cyrano de Bergerac. Without the nose.

"This thing is making me loco," Elena greeted him, glaring at the offending piece of technology on her desk.

Samantha had just emerged from her office. "More loco than we make you?"

"More loco than even my mother makes me," Elena replied.

Samantha gave her shoulder a pat. "Jonathan will fix it."

Elena grunted. "Equipo del infierno."

"Computer from hell?" Jonathan guessed, remembering some of his high school Spanish.

Elena's frustrated scowl was all the answer he needed.

"Don't worry," Samantha told her. "Jonathan will help you battle the forces of technology evil. When Cecily comes in tell her I'll be back around two. Try to keep my favorite assistant from turning the air blue," she said to Jonathan.

"No worries," he said, then assured Elena, "I'll have this up and running for you in no time."

No time turned out to be about an hour, but since Elena had expected to lose the entire day she was delighted. "You are amazing," she told him just as Samantha's sister Cecily arrived on the scene.

"Has he saved us again?" she asked Elena, smiling at Jonathan.

"Yes, as always."

Jonathan pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to look modest. It was hard when people puffed him up like this.

But then, as he started to pack up his tools, Cecily said something that left him flat as a stingray. "I just heard from Tina Swift that you guys have your fifteen year reunion coming up."

"Uh, yeah."

"Those are always fun, seeing old friends, people you used to date," she continued.

This was worse than Dot's cigarette smoke. Chatting with Cecily always made him self-conscious. Chatting with Cecily about his high school reunion would make him a nervous wreck, especially if she started asking about women he used to date. Jonathan hit high speed gathering up his tools and his various discs.

"Are you going to the reunion?" she asked him.

"Maybe," he lied, and hoped she'd leave it at that.

She didn't. "I moved back just in time for my ten year and I'm glad I did. There were some people I wouldn't have had a chance to see otherwise.

There were some people Jonathan wanted to do more than see. Some people with blond hair and … He snapped his briefcase shut and bolted for the door. "So, Elena, I'll bill you."

"Okay," she called.

The door hadn't quite shut behind him when he heard Elena say to Cecily, "He needs confidence, that one."

It was an embarrassing thing to hear about himself, but true. He needed a lot more than confidence though. How could a guy be confident when he didn't have anything to be confident about?

By now it was time for lunch so he grabbed some bratwurst and sauerkraut at Big Brats and settled in at one of the cafe tables in the stone courtyard adjacent to the popular sausage stand. It was a perfect day for outside dining. The sun was out to warm his back and a mountain breeze worked as a counterbalance to keep him from getting too hot. A cloudless sky offered a blue backdrop for the mountains.

During the weekends the eating area was so crowded you had to take a number. Today, however, it was relatively quiet with only a few tables occupied by shoppers taking a break.

Ed York, who owned D'Vine Wines, and Pat Wilder, who owned Mountain Escape Books, sauntered across the street to place an order. They stopped by Jonathan's table to say hello but didn't ask him to join them. No surprise. Pat and Ed had a thing going.

According to Jonathan's mom Ed had been interested in Pat ever since he moved to Icicle Falls and opened his wine shop. But Pat had been mourning a husband and hadn't been even remotely interested. It looked like that was changing though. Watching Ed's romantic success kept the small flame of hope alive in Jonathan. Maybe, if a guy hung in there long enough, getting the woman of his dreams could become a reality.

Or maybe the guy was just wasting his life dreaming. Jonathan crumpled his napkin. Time to get back to work.

His next client was Gerhardt Geissel who owned and ran Gerhardt's Gasthaus with his wife Ingrid. Gerhardt was a short, husky, fifty-something man with gray hair and a round, florid face. He loved his wife's German cooking, loved his beer, and was proud to celebrate his Tirolean heritage by wearing lederhosen when he played his alpen horn for his guests first thing every morning.

He played it even when he didn't have guests. Recently he'd gotten carried away celebrating his birthday and had decided to serenade his dinner guests after having had one too many beers and had fallen off the ledge of the balcony outside the dining room. He'd fallen about twelve feet but fortunately had broken his arm instead of his back.

"Jonathan, wie geht's?" he greeted Jonathan, raising his cast-encased arm as Ingrid showed Jonathan into his office. "I hope you're here to solve all my problems."

"That is an impossible task," said his wife.

Gerhardt made a face. "See how she loves me."

His wife made a face right back at him and left. But she was back a few minutes later with a piece of Black Forest cherry cake for Jonathan. "You're too skinny," she informed him. "You need to eat more."

"You need a wife to cook for you," her husband added.

"My youngest niece Mary lives just over in Wenatchee, and she's very pretty," said Ingrid.

"And very stupid," Gerhardt said in disgust. "Jonathan's smart. He needs a smart woman."

"Mary is smart," Ingrid insisted. "She just makes bad choices."

"Well, uh, thanks," Jonathan said. "I appreciate the offer." Sometimes he wondered if everyone in Icicle Falls over the age of fifty wanted to match him up.

Heck, it wasn't only the older people. Even his sister had been known to take a hand, always trying to introduce him to the latest someone she'd met and was sure would be perfect for him. Of course, those someones never were.

Gerhardt's computer problem was simple enough. Jonathan reloaded his operating system and he was good to go.

"You'd better get out of here before my wife comes back with Mary's phone number," Gerhardt advised after he'd written Jonathan a check.

Good idea. Jonathan left by the back door.

After leaving Gerhardt, he fit in two more clients and then headed home.

May's late afternoon sun beamed its blessing on his thee-bedroom log house at the end of Mountain View Road as he drove up. (He'd originally planned for two bedrooms but his folks had talked him into the extra one. "You have to have room for a wife and children," he mother had said. Good old Mom, always hopeful.) Fir and pine trees gave the house its rustic setting while the pansies and begonias his mother and sister had put in the window boxes and the patch of lawn edged with more flowers added a homey touch. Someone pulling up might even think a woman lived there. They'd be wrong. The only female in this house had four legs.

But Jonathan often pictured the house with a wife and kids in it - the wife (a pretty blonde, naturally) cooking dinner while he and the kids played video games. He could even see himself as an old man, sitting on the porch, playing chess with a grandson on the set he'd made himself. The house he'd have, naturally, passed on to his own son, keeping the property in the family.

His grandpa had purchased this land as an investment when it was nothing more than a mountain meadow. Gramps could have made a tidy profit selling it but instead he'd let Jonathan have it for a song when Jonathan turned twenty-five.

He'd started building his house when he was twenty-seven. A cousin who worked in construction in nearby Yakima had come over and helped him and Dad with it. Dad hadn't lived to see it finished. He'd had a heart attack just before the roof went on, leaving Jonathan on his own to finish both his house and his life.

Jonathan had become the man of the family, in charge of helping his mom, his grandmother, and his sister cope. He'd been no help to his grandmother, who had tried to outrun her loss by moving to Arizona. He hadn't been much help to his mother, either, beyond setting her up with a computer program so she could manage her finances. He'd tried to help Julia cope but he'd barely been able to cope himself. He should never have let Dad do all that hard physical work.

"Don't be silly," his mother always said. "Your father could just as easily have died on the golf course. He was doing what he wanted to do, helping you."

Helping his son be manly. The house was probably the one endeavor of Jonathan's that his father really took pride in. It wasn't hard to figure out what kind of son Dad had really longed for. He'd never missed an Icicle Falls HIgh football game, whether at home or away. How many times had he sat in the stands and wished his scrawny son was out there on the field or at least on the bench instead of playing the band? Jonathan was glad he had no idea.

"I love you, son," Dad had said when they were loading him into the ambulance. Those were the last words Jonathan had heard and he was thankful for them. But he often found himself wishing his dad had said hew as proud of him.

As he pulled up in his yellow Volkswagen with Geek Gods Mobile Computer Service printed on the side, his dog Chica abandoned her spot on the front porch and raced down the stairs to greet him, barking a welcome. Chica was an animal shelter find, part Shepherd, part Lab, and part … whatever kind of dog had curly tail. She'd been with Jonathan for five years and she thought he was a god.

He got out of the car and the dog starting jumping like she had springs on her paws. It was nice to have some female go crazy over him. "Hey girl, he greeted her. "We'll get some dinner and then play fetch."

He exchanged his slacks for the comfort of his old, baggy jeans and his business shirt for a T-shirt sporting a nerdy pun that cautioned "Don't drink and derive". Then, after a feast of canned spaghetti for Jonathan and some Doggy's Delight for Chica it was time for a quick game of fetch. It had to be quick because tonight was Friday, poker night, and the guys would be coming over at seven. Poker, another manly pursuit. Dad would have been proud.

The first to arrive was his pal Kyle Long. Kyle and Jonathan had been friends since high school. They'd both been members of the chess club and had shared an addiction to old sci-fi movies and video games.

Kyle didn't exactly fit his name. He was short. His hair was a lighter shade than Jonathan's dark brown - nothing spectacular, rather like his face.

His ordinary face didn't bug him nearly as much as his lack of stature. "Women don't look at short guys," he often grumbled. And short guys who (like Jonathan) weren't always so confident and quick with the flattery, well, they really didn't get noticed, even by girls their own height. This had been a hard cross to bear in high school when it seemed every girl Kyle liked chose some giant basketball player over him. These days the competition wore a different kind of uniform, the one worn to the office, but his frustration level remained the same.

The grumpy expression on his face tonight said it all before he even opened his mouth. "What's with chicks, anyway?" he demanded as he set a six pack of Hales Ale on Jonathan's counter.

If Jonathan knew that he'd be married to the woman of his dreams by now. He shrugged.

"Okay, so Darrow looks like frigid' Ryan Reynolds."

Ted Darrow, Kyle's nemesis. "And drives a Jag," Jonathan supplied. He was also Kyle's boss, which put him higher up the ladder of success, always a sexy attribute.

"But he's the world's biggest ass-wipe," Kyle said with a scowl. "I don't know what Jillian sees in him."

Jonathan knew. Like called to like. Beautiful people always gravitated to each other. Jonathan had seen Jillian when he'd gone to Kyle's company, Safe Hands Insurance, to install their new computer system. As the receptionist it had been her job to greet him and he'd seen right away why his friend was smitten. She was hot, with super model long legs. Women like that went of the Ted Darrows of the world.

Or the Rand Burwells.

Jonathan shoved that last thought out of his mind. "Look, you may as well give up. You're not gonna get her." It was hard to say that to his best friend, but friends didn't let friends drive themselves crazy over women who were out of their league. Kyle would do the same for him … if he knew Jonathan had suffered a relapse last Christmas and had once again picked up the torch for his own perfect dream girl. The road to crazy was a clogged thoroughfare these days.

Kyle heaved a discouraged sigh. "I know." He pulled a bottle opener out of one of Jonathan's kitchen drawers and popped the top off one of the bottles. "It's just that, well, damn. If she opened those baby blues and looked my way for longer than two seconds she'd see I'm twice the man Darrow is."

"I hear you," Jonathan said, and opened a bag of corn chips, setting them alongside the beer.

Next in the door was Bernardo Ruiz, who came bearing some of his wife's homemade salsa. Bernardo was happily married and owned a small orchard outside town, in which he took great pride. He wasn't much taller than Kyle, but he swaggered like he was six feet.

"Who died?" he asked, looking from one friend to the other.

"Nobody," Kyle snapped.

Bernardo eyed him suspiciously. "You mooning around over that bimbo at work again?"

"She's not a bimbo," Kyle said irritably.

Bernardo shook his head in disgust. "Little man, you are a fool to chase after a woman who doesn't want you. That kind of a woman, she'll only make you feel small on the inside."

Any reference to being small, either on the inside or outside, never went over well with Kyle, so it was probably a good thing that Adam Edwards arrived with more beer and chips. A sales rep for a pharmaceutical company, he earned more than Jonathan and Kyle put together and had the toys to prove it - a big house on the river, a classic Corvette, a snowmobile and a beach house on the Washington coast. He also had a pretty little wife, which proved Jonathan's theory of like calling to like, since Adam was tall and broad-shouldered and looked as though he belonged in Hollywood instead of Icicle Falls. Some guys had all the luck.

"Vance'll be late," Adam informed them. "He has to finish up something and says to go ahead and start without him."

Vance Fish, the newest member of their group, was somewhere in his fifties, which made him the senior member. He'd built a big house on River Road about a mile down from Adam's place. The two men had bonded over fishing lures, and Adam had invited him to join their poker group.

Although Vance claimed to be semiretired, he was always working. He owned a bookstore in Seattle called Emerald City Books. He'd recently started selling Sweet Dreams Chocolates there, making himself popular with the Sterling family, who owned the company.

He dressed like he was on his last dime, usually in sweats or jeans and an oversize black T-shirt that hung clumsily over his double-XL belly, but his fancy house was proof that Vance was doing okay.

"That means we won't see him for at least an hour," Kyle predicted.

"What kind of project?" Bernardo wondered. "Is he building something over there in that fine house of his? I never seen no tools on the workbench in his garage."

"It has to do with the bookstore," Adam said. "I don't know what."

"Well, all the better for me," Kyle said gleefully. "I'll have you guys fleeced by the time he gets here." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm feeling lucky tonight."

He proved it by raking in their money.

"Bernardo, you should just empty your pockets on the table as soon as you get here," Adam joked. "I've never seen anybody so unlucky at cards."

"That's because I'm lucky in love," Bernardo insisted.

His remark wiped the victory smirk right off Kyle's face. "Chicks," he muttered.

"If you're going where I think you're going, don't," Adam said, frowning at him.

"What?" Kyle protested.

Adam pointed his beer bottle at Kyle. "If I hear one more word about Jillian, I'm gonna club you with this."

"Oh, no," said a deep voice. "I thought you clowns would be done talking about women by now."

Jonathan turned to see Vance strolling into the room, stylish as ever in his favorite black T-shirt, baggy jeans and sandals. In honor the occasion he hadn't shaved. Aside from the extra pounds (well, and that bald spot on the top of his head), he wasn't too bad-looking. His sandy hair was shot with gray but he had the craggy brow and strong jaw women seemed to like even in a big man. They were wasted on Vance; he wasn't interested. "Been there, done that," he often said.

"We're finished talking about women," Adam assured him.

Vance clapped him on the back. "Gad to hear it, 'cause the last thing I want after a hard day's work is to listen to you losers crab about them."

"I wasn't crabbing," Kyle said, looking sullen.

Vance sat down at the table. "It's that babe where you work, isn't it? She got your jockeys tight again?" Kyle glared at him, but Vance waved off his anger with a pudgy paw. "You know, women can sense desperation a mile away. It's a turnoff."

"And I guess you'd be an expert on what turns women off," Adam teased.

"There isn't a man on this planet who's an expert on anything about women. And if you meet one who says he is, he's lying. Now, let's play poker." Vance eyed the pile of chips in front of Kyle. "You need to be relieved of some of those, my friend."

"I think not," Kyle said, and the game began in earnest.

After an hour and a half, Vance announced that he had to tap a kidney.

"I need some chips and salsa," Adam said, and everyone took a break.

"Did you get the announcement in the mail?" Kyle asked Jonathan.

Not this again.

"What announcement?" Adam asked.

"HIgh school reunion," Kyle said. "Fifteen years."

Jonathan had gotten the cutesy little postcard with the picture of a grizzly bear, the Icicle Falls High mascot, lumbering across one corner. And of course, the first thing he'd thought was, maybe Lissa will come. That had taken his spirits on a hot-air balloon ride. Until he'd had another thought. You'll still be the Invisible Man. That had brought the balloon back down.

"Yeah, I got it," he said. "I'm not going."

But Rand probably would. Rand and Lissa together again.

Now his balloon ride was not only over, the balloon was in a swamp infested with alligators. And poker night was a bust.

Just like his love life.

AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

Sheila Roberts lives on a lake in the Pacific Northwest. She’s happily married and has three children. She’s been writing since 1989, but she did lots of things before settling in to her writing career, including owning a singing telegram company and playing in a band. Her band days are over, but she still enjoys writing songs. When she’s not speaking to women’s groups or at conferences or hanging out with her girlfriends she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends, and chocolate. 

Don't forget to leave a comment or question for Sheila below to let her know you stopped by.  You can enter her tour wide giveaway by filling out the Rafflecopter below.  Sheila will be awarding a print copy of What She Wants (US/Canada only) to 10 randomly drawn commenters during the tour. A Grand Prize of a $25 eHarlequin coupon plus a finished copy of What She Wants (US/Canada only) will be awarded to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. You can follow her tour stops here.  You can also check out my review here.  

a Rafflecopter giveaway


  1. Love the excerpt, can't wait to read it. Maybe men should read romance novels, they may learn something.


  2. I don't think men realize what good textbooks romance novels make. :)

  3. Great excerpt!

  4. Nice post

    bn100candg at hotmail dot com

  5. Wow, I really loved this post!

    I, too, love music and songwriting. I have so many lyrics that I've written ever since my pre-teen years. For the longest time, i wanted to make a career out of singing in Nashville. Life pulled me in a different direction, and I've changed gears quite a bit, but I never forget my love of singing and songwriting.

    As for dreams, well I've made one come true last year- becoming a published author. My second biggest dream is to do something with my music, and I may have found a way for that, too. I can't wait to read What She Wants!

    Nikki @

  6. Thanks very much for your large information .And knowledge full description . I think it is Sus a topic that many kinds of people face many problems. thanks for this.
    rent to own homes