Ready for ALL WHEEL DRIVE? #ZAMaxfield #Riptide #NewRelease

Hi all –

You know i’m a huge fan of Z.A. Maxfield. She was one of my favorite authors before i met her and today i feel lucky to count her as a close friend. A particular favorite of mine is her Hell On Wheels and i’m so excited that the sequel, All Wheel Drive, has just hit the site at Riptide. I’m sure it will be at all the retail outlets soon, but you can hop over and order it now. Here’s a link —

And here’s a nibble —


 Healey Holly is battered, depressed, and looking to go to ground in his childhood home. He wants to rent the garage apartment, but it’s Diego Luz’s place now, and the last thing Diego wants is to share it.

Diego is recovering too—from the accident that put him in a wheelchair and the death of his mother shortly after. The garage apartment is where he’s keeping his mother’s things, and as long as they’re up those stairs and he’s down on the ground, there’s no way he can deal with his loss.  And that’s just how he likes it.

Healey believes in science. Diego believes in luck. It will take a blend of both, and some prayer thrown in besides, for these two to learn that it’s the journey and the destination that matters.


Chapter 1


The man at the door was a mess.

Diego’s first look through the peephole showed a sort of monster silhouette—a weirdly shaped humanoid dragging a wheeled duffel bag.

In the porch light’s acrid yellow glow, the very shape of him set off a boogeyman, stranger-danger skin-crawl. Ruthlessly, he suppressed any instinct for self-preservation and opened the door wide, but his visitor was just an ordinary man with a mass of healing facial wounds, one arm in a cast, and the haunted look of a recent combat veteran. Diego didn’t recognize him, but there was nothing to be scared of. Whatever had happened to him was potentially frightening, but he was only a guy.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I called about the room over the garage?”

“And I told you when you called: I’m not renting it out. I need it for storage. How did you even know—”

“I’m still hoping you’ll change your mind. I grew up around here. I remember the family that used to live here, and I feel like—” The man stopped. Gathered himself. “I need a room for a little while, and if you’re only using it for storage . . .”

Sorrow limned what few features Diego could guess at behind the bandages, healing abrasions, and the shiny pink newness of burns. Dude had shaved his hair on the sides but the top was long, the result being a man-bun swirl of wavy brown hair that looked greasy. How was this guy even keeping himself clean? Despair, and something infinitely worse hung around him like a toxic cloud. Hopelessness.

Diego recognized the man’s helpless anxiety and anguish all too well.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“John Smith.”

Irritated, Diego eyed him sourly. “I take it you ain’t filling out a rental application?”

“Sure. I’ll fill one out.” It was hard to watch a smile crack those dry, scabbed lips, but it was a nice smile. A friendly smile. Dude wasn’t using it very often, obviously. “I’m thinking of taking up fiction writing as a career anyway.”

“You make it so hard to say no.”

Diego started to close the door, but that soft cast shot out, and Diego didn’t have it in him right then to add injury to . . . injury.

“You want to try and convince me some more?” Diego asked sarcastically. “You want to add you’re also a known terrorist carrying small pox?”

“Two thousand cash a month. Six months tops. It’s a room with a toilet, a sink, and a shower, right?”

“How do you know that? How’d you even get my number?”

Dude’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. “Never mind how I know. My Uber driver left me, and I’ll have to walk all the way to the nearest motel. Where is that, anyway?”

“Three thousand,” Diego countered, “and you move whatever shit’s up there down to the garage.”

“Done.” The dude frowned. “Wait. What’s up there?”

Diego shrugged. “Stuff from my mother’s place, probably. I told the company that moved me to put whatever wasn’t marked for immediate use up there. And since I can’t exactly fly up there to take a look around”—he thumped the wheels of his chair—“I don’t give a shit. Haven’t missed a thing, so whatever’s up there can’t be too important. You move it, hand me thirty Benjamins, and we’re good.”


Was that relief on his face? Diego didn’t smile back. “Trial basis. For a month.”


“Too much drinking, drugging, loud sex? Not fine. Loud parties? Not fine. No one better bother me, leave trash around, or even look at me askance. No redneck music. In fact, give me your number.” He took out his phone, opened the contacts, and let his new tenant type it in. “I control all of the music around here, or you can leave right now. I can’t walk up those stairs but I can light the place on fire from below and rebuild. If you piss me off, I’ll shoot you and tell the police you frightened my permanently-seated ass, and we’ll see who they blame.”

“Askance? Is that a thing now?”

Oh, there it was again. That elusive spark of humor. “It’s always been a thing.”

“I’ll be sure not to do it.”

“All right, then. I’ll get you a key.”

“No need.” Dude reached gingerly into the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out a fat wad of cash and a Costco card. “That lock’s always been a piece of shit.”

Diego took the cash, counted it out. “This is only two grand.”

“I’ll get you the rest tomorrow. I’m good for it.”

Diego nodded, wheeled backward, and gave the door a shove to shut it. It banged in the dude’s face, but that was partly the wind. Dude couldn’t blame him for the wind, could he?

So. Now he had a tenant for a bit.

He could have said no.

He could have said hell no.

As soon as the dude got a look at his room, he’d probably come back down. If he caused any trouble, Diego could give back the money and boot his ass. If John Smith gave him any attitude, Diego could call the cops. But that would be a lot of bother to go through, when spending the night in a dank-ass garage apartment with no bed, no food, and a single hanging overhead lightbulb was punishment enough.

A quick look at the time told Diego he’d better call it a night. While he went through the motions getting ready for bed, the part of his brain that remembered the haunted look in his new tenant’s eyes—the part of him that recognized and responded to and acknowledged the unfairness of things and the failure of good people to alleviate human suffering in the long run—listened with half an ear for the sound of boxes being shuffled around.

The man couldn’t move things in his condition. He’d have to ask for help, at which point Diego planned to drive him to the nearest bed-and-waffle-buffet motel. Such a thing would probably cost less than the three grand he’d promised Diego anyway, and sure as fuck nobody’d be feeding him here.

Diego definitely did not think about dust or spiders or other critters. He was not imagining a room he’d never even been in but could visualize from realtor’s photos—wood-paneled walls and vinyl flooring in sickly, faded shades of brown and orange and yellow. But he’d never wanted a tenant. He hadn’t sent anyone but the movers up there after he’d come to Bluewater Bay. Hadn’t cleaned the place. Hadn’t advertised it.

It was almost a public service letting the dude get his fill of it. Returning home after a traumatic event might seem like a good thing to a guy like that. There was a lot to be said for nostalgia. But an old childhood hangout wasn’t the place for someone so physically banged-up, and he’d soon realize it.

What he needed was his family. Friends. Tribe. What he was looking for was safety. Diego could tell him that safety was an illusion, but it looked like he’d already gotten the news.

Even as he grew sleepy, Diego kept an ear tuned for unusual noises.

John Smith’d be back if he couldn’t get the door open. He’d knock if sleeping on the floor beat to hell like that was as fucked up as it sounded.

Diego drifted off to sleep wishing he was the type of guy to treat a man’s pride like it wasn’t as important as his body.


YUM! Can’t wait to read it, and to listen to it whenever it hits audio. Grab your copy and BTW, my re-release of the firefighter romance, FAST Balls is coming Thursday. Plus i have new releases of Taylor Maid in French and Cowboys Don’t Come Out in French and German coming soon.

Thanks for stopping by!

ZAM’s DEEP DESIRE. Vampire! Comment to WIN.

deep-desireHi and welcome–

I’m so excited to host my friend, confidant, and one of the best writers i know, Z. A. Maxfield. ZAM is bringing you the redo of one of my favorite books — and favorite vampires– of all time. When i read the book, it was called Notturno. Now it’s DEEP DESIRE! And it’s been re-edited and made even better. Before i turn this over to ZAM, let me tell you that someone who comments is winning a copy of the book, so be sure to say hi to ZAM down below. Also, enter on the Rafflecopter and you might win a $25 GC. Okay, here’s ZAM!

Hello Tara Lain, and thanks so much for helping me celebrate my latest release, Deep Desire, book one of The Deep Series.

Let me tell you how much I adore Tara Lain. She’s a fellow member of RWA Orange County Chapter, a dear friend, and one of the classiest people I’ve ever known. She lends an ear when I’m disheartened, dispenses impeccable fashion advice, often flies with me when I go to conferences, and gives me hope that someday when I grow up, I have a chance of being a totally awesome woman of substance too…

Thanks for sharing your space with me Tara!

My latest release, Deep Desire, is a re-release of Notturno, the first book in my vampire series. There’s kind of a solemn story about those books. I had just finished Vigil, the second book, when my mother passed away. I’d spent so many months living in Adin and Donte’s universe, I had trouble spending time with them for a while after her death. Memories are very strange things. There are scents, foods, sounds, places, and in my case, stories that remind me of sad times.

So there I was, with a partially finished series on my hands. It’s been a while. At some point, every writer has to face his or her early work. If you get the chance, it make sense to re-visit the work with a new editor, a fresh set of eyes. My new editor is Tera Cuskaden from Samhain, and with her help, I think we’ve improved the books.

Adin has purchased a 500-year-old erotic journal. The only problem? The man who wrote it wants it back.

Here are five things you need to know about Adin Tredeger:

  • He’s led a charmed life, but it hasn’t been easy. He lost his parents in a tragic boating accident when he was still in college. He and his sister Deana are all that’s left of his family. She works for a pharmaceutical company in Los Angeles and lives in a bungalow in Santa Monica.
  • He’s has lovers all over the world but never been given away his heart.
  • He enjoys fine things. Travel, art, literature, and food. He’s independent, intelligent and a little bit arrogant. He’s met his match in Donte, whose air of deposed royalty is the result of aristocratic birth.
  • His best friend, Edward, is an art dealer who comes from a family of artists, muses, restores and dealers. Edward lives with the mysterious Tuan, who works for a shadowy government agency charged with supernatural customs enforcement.
  • When he’s at an emotionally vulnerable point in the story, Adin meets a highly unusual vampire named Sean, who delivers a special gift from Donte. Sean tells Adin that some of his kind are a little more Tolkien than Stoker. He will have more than a walk-on in The Deep Series, Book 3, Deep Deliverance, coming in December.

Stay tuned!

These have been edited. They’ve been retitled. There are new, cool covers. They’ll be available simultaneously in ebook and print.

Vampire novels. Revamped.

Here’s your New Title Cheat Sheet

Original title               New Title

Notturno                   Deep Desire coming Feb. 3 2015

Vigil                           Deep Deception coming July

Matins                        Deep Deliverance coming December


PUBLISHER: Samhain Publishing


 RELEASE DATE: February 3, 2015

LENGTH: 240 Pages

SERIES: The Deep Series Book 1


BLURB: As the Indiana Jones of historical erotica, there is no document existing—or just rumored to exist—Adin Tredeger can’t unearth. Why he would risk the biggest coup of his career to join the mile-high club is beyond him. But the disarming, dark-eyed man who somehow enters Adin’s locked airplane washroom has him completely nude and coming apart. All without a whimper of protest.

From that moment, Adin and Donte Fedelta engage in an international battle of wit and cunning. The prize—a priceless, 500-year-old journal with illustrations so erotic it could make the Marquis de Sade blush.

Yet Donte’s desire for the journal goes far beyond simple possession. The undead nobleman wrote it. And he’s not above using every trick in his otherworldly arsenal—including seduction—to get it back.

Chemistry draws them together even as fortune tugs them apart. But when a third party joins the chase, they must unite to fight an enemy with a deadly goal—to erase Donte from history.

This book is a rerelease of a previously published book, with substantial rewrites.

Warning: This product contains one cocky college professor, one centuries-old vampire who is out to show him who’s at the top of the food chain, and red wine. Because it goes so well with humble pie.


_AuthorPhotoAUTHOR BIO: Z.A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.

If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

Readers can visit ZAM at her website, Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr.


ZAM will be running two giveaways for this tour! At the end of the tour, she will draw a winner from the comments section of each blog to win a copy of Deep Desire! There is also a tour-wide Rafflecoptor where readers can enter to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card.

Contest Begins: February 2, 2015

Contest Ends: February 10, 2015
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And remember to COMMENT on this blog for a chance to win Deep Desire! Thank you for visiting!

ZAM Brings MY HEARTACHE COWBOY with Goodies for You!

Book Cover - My Heartache Cowboy (The Cowboys #2)Hey you guys, if you visit my blog from time to time, you must know that one of my best pals and favorite people is the fantabulous Z.A. Maxfield. One of the authors who originally inspired me to write way before  i ever met her, she is today a close friend. So when this lady has a new book — i pay attention! I hope you will too because a book by ZAM is a treat. Her new book is My Heartache Cowboy and there’s a Rafflecopter down there, so be sure to enter. I’m turning this over to her, so heads up! Here’s ZAM —

Every author needs friends who listen patiently while they outline their plot for the seven millionth time, who help them out of plot-holes they’ve dug themselves into, and who will really tell them if a certain scene makes the book look fat.

True friends are the ones an author can call on for release day hand-holding and the ones who help her down from the crazy tree when she’s been up there so long she’s got a nosebleed she hasn’t even noticed yet.

They’re people like Tara Lain, Lex Valentine, and KC Burn from the Orange County Chapter of Romance Writers of America, who meet me for breakfast before meetings. These women are great authors and ladies I love like sisters!

Tara, I want you to know, if the zombie apocalypse occurs, I will let the zombies eat me first. Of course, even as they’re taking bites, I’ll probably still be asking your advice on everything from branding to what color goes best with my bloated, rotting corpse.

“Are you SURE this is okay? You don’t think it needs a different ending? You don’t think it needs more, or less…” Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…

Thanks for everything you do, sweetie. I’ve got your back.

My Heartache Cowboy
(Cowboy Series, Bk #2)
By Z.A. Maxfield

Can love conquer all?

Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.

Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.

Available for purchase at



When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.

My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.

No keys.

Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.

I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.

One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .



What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.

I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.

“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”

“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.

“What?” Eddie jumped back.

“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”

Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”

I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”

Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”

“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”

Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”

I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”

“How about you suck my fucking—”

“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”

“Which I did,” I pointed out.

“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.

I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.

You’re going to have to sleep sometime.

Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.

One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.

No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.

Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.

And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.

Hadn’t I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?

About the Author

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

You can find ZA Maxfield at

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Z.A. Maxfield’s LOST AND FOUND with Prizes for You!

Lost and Found Blog Tour BadgeHi everyone — It’s not every week i get to have the ZAMster on my blog twice! Yahoo. With two different new books which is a boon for all readers. But i couldn’t pass up the chance to share either one of her new releases. But FIRST, If you’re here for the Christmas Paws Blog Hop where you can win $200 and some goodies from me, Click HERE. And if you’re hear for the Thankfully Naughty Blog Hop with yet more Tara Goodies, Click HERE. Now, let me say hi to ZAM and turn the blog over to her and Z.A. Maxfield’s LOST AND FOUND–

Hello Tara Lain! It’s a pleasure to be here at your blog! This makes twice in the span of a couple weeks, but as you know when it rains it pours. Happy Holidays to you all your readers! As the year comes to a close it’s a great time to enjoy a quiet evening with family and friends.

I thought we’d have some fun today and talk about the food in the book. It’s been pretty clear right from the start that I like to write food into a book. I remember reading Harry Potter and being mesmerized by the descriptions of food, from the groaning Hogwarts dining hall tables to the “fat pack of toffees” in the flying Ford Anglia’s glove box. I always want to know what people are eating in books, and when an author doesn’t tell me, I resent it.

That said, let’s get started out with burgers. OF COURSE they’re from In-N-Out. Of course they are. I live in Southern California, and even with the entrance of Five Guys, there is really only one place my protagonist is going to buy a burger, unless he lives close to one of Orange County’s Angelo’s locations. Even then, the odds are good he’s going to go to In-N-Out.

On a side note, I live in one of the ONLY two locations where In-N-Out is not actually a drive-through, but Angelo’s is. Odds are a little leaner in my neighborhood that we’d go to In-N-Out because on a late night burger run (especially those made in pajamas) who likes to get out of the car?

Carnitas – which show up regularly in my books, usually refers to a slow cooked pork dish. My earliest experience with Carnitas (literally little meats) featured a massive pork roast sort of braised in lard and seasoned with all kinds of things, salt oregano, chile cumin, bay leaves. Once the meet is tender and the moisture has evaporated it gets crispy on the outside. I’d be willing to guess most people don’t use lard these days, but when it’s made the old fashioned way it’s a sumptuous, unctuous kind of pork stew. What cooks do sometimes is slow braise the meat and then shred it, THEN cook it over a high heat in oil so it gets crispy. This is so yummy in tacos, over rice, anyway you choose to eat it.

Carne Asada – This is simply thinly sliced grilled, marinated steak. So good. The key is to dry it off before throwing it over the coals so you get a nice char. I cheat and use the marinated carne asada meat from Trader Joe’s. We grill it, then slice it thin or chop it up for tacos. So delicious. Serve it with cowboy style beans or frijoles refritos.

Frijoles refritos – every cook has his/her own way to make refried beans. Aurora, my friend Ana’s mom simply calls it sopa and prepares it the usual way, soaking the beans first and then simmering them with spices and seasonings until they’re tender. She discards the water and mashes them up and then fries them in – you guessed it – lard. Lard rears its (patently delicious) head wherever people who raise pigs for meat are cooking other foods. Nowadays, people put all kinds of stuff in refried beans you’d never ever guess was in there. I once saw a woman put cut in a whole block of Velveeta, which disappeared and became one with the dish faster than the Titanic sank – and making the beans just about as rich. A great debate has raged for centuries: to salt or not to salt beans before cooking. As usual, I play the odds and don’t salt the beans until they’re halfway done.

Tamales – Tamales are a Mesoamerican dish where some kind of filling is placed inside masa (cornmeal) dough and then steamed. It’s traditional in some parts of Mexico to cook tamales for any festival, and it’s traditional in Southern California to eat them during the holidays. I am fortunate enough to have lots of places to buy great tamales for Christmas Eve dinner, and I have also had the privilege of joining my friend Ana and all the women of her family from the youngest to the oldest, as they prepare these delicious treats. We slow braise meat (pork again) and make a red sauce from scratch, which involves softening, frying, and blending a massive amount of different kinds of dried chiles herbs and spices. I still don’t know the magic secret ingredients for Nina Carlotta’s famous red sauce but I do know my eyes burn when she makes it and then I just fall in love with her all over again when I taste it. Amazing stuff. Tamales can be savory and sweet. My favorites are pork with red sauce and green chile and cheese with a spicy tomatillo sauce.

Pan Dulces are sweet breads. (Not like cow sweetbreads which is a whole ‘nother thing entirely.) Pan dulce shows us the influence of the Europeans who made their way to Mexico during its many colonial incarnations. These are hard to describe as there are many types of pan dulce. They run the gamut from traditional sweet dough like you’d find in a cinnamon roll to the flavored yeast dough of a King Cake from New Orleans to a crumbly, odd bread that reminds me weirdly of Chinese almond cookies. Or not. They’re kind of a you-have-to-be-there thing. If I’m going to be hosting a gathering with tamales and a taco bar, then I’m probably going to get some of those sweet treats from the bakery as well.

Tres Leches Cake –This cake is YUM. It’s a sponge cake soaked in evaporated milk, condensed milk and cream. Its vanilla flavor is important, so no skimping or using vanilla flavoring. Use the best vanilla or don’t bother because you’ll taste the unsavory false vanilla flavor long after you eat the cake.

And let’s face it. You go straight to Food Prison for eating Tres Leches Cake. No passing Go, no collecting $200. A little dab will do you — it’s very rich. My friend Ana garnishes hers with fresh berries when they’re super-ripe in season and it’s a revelation. Double YUM, with fresh fruit.

Join Ringo as he introduces Gavin to his family during a — sort of — traditional Southern California Christmas Eve feast in Lost and Found.

Lost and Found
By Z.A. Maxfield
Lost: one dog and
two men in need of each other. Found: love.
RV resort
security chief Ringo never believed in love at first sight . . . until he saw
Gavin playing his sax on the beach for the tourists. But their on-again,
off-again affair—even counting all the great makeup sex—doesn’t come close to
the relationship he wants. All he really wants for Christmas is a commitment
from Gavin.
Instead he
discovers that Gavin has had surgery without telling him, so he lays down a
relationship ultimatum while Gavin recuperates. Complicating matters even more,
Gavin’s beloved dog Bird runs away, and Gavin blames Ringo for the
While Ringo
throws every resource he has into finding Bird, he learns deeper truths about
Gavin—how hard it is for him to trust and how little faith he has in love.
Maybe if Ringo can find Bird, he can salvage Gavin’s faith. Maybe this
Christmas, they can all find each other.


You can read an
excerpt or purchase Lost and Found HERE. Remember, when you purchase Lost
and Found
in either ebook format, which you can find HERE or in
the print anthology format, which you can find HERE,
you’re helping to support the mission of the Ali Forney Center.
Available for purchase at


Chapter One
Ringo had knocked on Gavin’s door plenty of times. This time he had his heart in his throat. He could feel the cold chill of trouble coming same as he could feel the thunderheads that gathered out over the ocean, ready to pound the Newport Sands Resort with relentless rain.
Strings of Christmas icicles fluttered in the breeze along the edge of the RV’s awning. At night, they were pretty, but right now, in the weak afternoon light, they were cheap bits of dirty plastic Gavin kept up all year round.
He knocked again. “Gavin, it’s me, Ringo. Open up.”
After a minute or so, the flimsy metal door opened a crack. “What do you want?”
“Where’s Bird?”
“Bird? He’s inside.” Gavin opened the door the rest of the way, but didn’t come down the steps.
“He wasn’t inside an hour ago when he ran into someone’s RV after their cat.” Ringo shook his head. “Goddamn it, how many times do I have to tell you? You can’t just let that dog out to wander around.”
Irritation played over Gavin’s features. “What’s your damage, Ringo? So he pees on the grass. If he shits, I’m sorry. I’ll pick up some other dog’s shit sometime, as penance.”
Ringo folded his arms across his chest. “Some lady from the As said Bird scared her grandkids. She was hysterical.”
“Oh, well. If she’s from the As then—”
“Aw, Gav. Cut me some slack here, will you?” Ringo leaned in. He wasn’t above pleading a little. Gavin had more than once insinuated that the resort had different rules for people with better rigs or bigger wallets, which was bullshit. Everyone had to behave like they paid for a spot in the As. Ringo didn’t ride Gavin for half the shit Bird got up to, but he was forced to respond when Bird caused a mess. “This isn’t a trailer park, it’s the Newport Sands Resort. These RVs are multimillion-dollar land yachts and the people expect to be able to open their doors without your dog charging inside. If Bird leaves this rig, you have to go with him. You take him out on his leash from now on, or you keep him in.”
“Sir. Yes, sir.” Gavin saluted smartly. “No letting Bird out off leash.”
“It’s nothing personal. Management gets on me if they think I’m not doing my job—and they won’t hesitate to have your ass and your rig hauled out of here.”
“You couldn’t just leave the form letter I normally get when someone from your security team sees Bird off leash?”
Ringo was too embarrassed to meet Gavin’s eyes. “Don’t you just throw those away?”
“But nothing personal, right?”
Christ, there was everything personal between them. Ringo felt it in his gut and his heart and his empty goddamn bed. They hadn’t spoken in over a month and he’d missed Gavin every single day. But that’s not why he was here today. “No. Nothing personal.”
“If that’s all then, I’ll just haul my ass into my rig and—”
“Look.” Ringo raked a hand over his buzzed hair. “I don’t know why you gotta be like this. You never heard anyone say, ‘You can’t fight city hall’?”
“I hardly ever let Bird run, only when it’s absolutely necessary. And with it being Christmas, the park is half-empty anyway. You know people only say that city hall shit when the government is taking advantage.”
“You signed the lease. You know the rules. How is asking you to walk your own dog taking advantage?”
“Never mind. Message received and noted.”
Ringo sighed. “Why should the rest of us deal with Bird if you’re too fucking lazy to do it? While you’re wallowing, he’s scaring off the tourists.”
“Is that what you think?” Gavin eyed him sourly. “I’m wallowing?”
“I think you need to walk your dog on a leash, like everyone else around here. What if you let Bird out and he eats something bad? Even a lick of antifreeze could kill him. What if he gets into a fight with another dog? You need to think what your neglect could cost Bird, too.”
Ringo was about to turn away and leave when Gavin reached out and caught his arm. “Wait.”
“What?” Ringo took a step up toward Gavin. Even with another step between them, he was taller, especially since Gavin had a way of slouching lazily against his doorframe. His posture now was relaxed, and yet closed off. Typical.
Gavin sighed. “I did let him go out alone this morning. I couldn’t take him, so—”
“What do you mean, you couldn’t take him?” Ringo looked Gavin over closely and realized he didn’t just look tired, he appeared to be in pain.
Gavin grimaced. “Look, it’s nothing. Right now, I can’t take him out, is all.”
“Wait. What?” Ringo asked. “Did something happen? Are you sick?”
“No, I’m not sick. I finally had to have my knee repaired. I stepped in a hole on the beach the other day and tore it again. The doc said I didn’t have a choice anymore.” Gavin looked anywhere except into Ringo’s eyes. “I figured I had some time off between Christmas and New Year’s, might as well get it taken care of. But I just got home, and it’s been tougher than I thought, and I—”
“Jeez.” That’s why Ringo had seen Gavin come home in a cab the day before. ChristAlone and hurting and you still won’t ask anyone for shit. “You couldn’t have told me that?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’d have helped you. I’d have taken Bird out for you, for one. At least I can ask one of the interns—”
“I had that Jules kid take care of Bird yesterday, but I thought—” Gavin chewed his lower lip “—I don’t know what I thought.”
“Jules is a good kid, but he’s gone home until after New Year’s. Do you want me to see if I can get a couple of the other kids to take shifts? They can walk Bird until you’re well enough to do it yourself.”
Gavin gave a reluctant nod. “I’d appreciate that.”
Ringo sighed. “Goddamn it, Gavin. I’m only a phone call away. We’re not seeing each other anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ask me for help if you need it.”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised I didn’t. We didn’t work out because you always tell me I don’t ask for enough.”
Ringo frowned at him. “I thought it was because I wanted to give you too much.”
They stood nearly nose to nose. Ringo could smell the warm, smoky campfire scent of Gavin’s skin, could feel desire building between them, even from that brief contact. But he couldn’t make Gavin meet his gaze.
He sighed. “I didn’t come here to autopsy us.”
“Not much left to dissect, is there?” Gavin wrapped his arms around himself. Maybe he was cold, and maybe he needed holding. Ringo had a lousy habit of wondering what Gavin needed, as opposed to just giving him what he asked for, and Gavin hated it.
God, Ringo wanted to hold him. He wanted to wrap himself around Gavin and never let go. How did everything between them always go to shit?
Instead, Ringo said, “Go back inside, you look like hell. I’ll ask around, or I’ll come back and walk Bird myself.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. Everybody has to learn to ask for help, just like every so often people ought to seek out someone who needs help and give it. It takes your mind off shit to look outside yourself for a change.”
Gavin snorted. “The Gospel According to St. Ringo.”
“Right.” A gentle tease, instead of Gavin’s customary porcupine spines. That was better. “Yeah. Well. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“I’ve tried it.”
Ringo ignored that. “I’ll be back later. I’m assuming you have pain meds. What about food?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m going to infuriate you by checking on you every so often, and I’m going to do it with hot meals. Just warning you ahead of time.”
“Ringo, don’t make this a big deal.” Gavin started back inside.
“Gav—” Ringo reached for him, but he jerked away. “Don’t make me pull information out of you like this. I need to know. Please, if you need me, call me.”
“And then what?”
Ringo shifted his weight from his right leg to his left. “What do you mean, and then what?”
“What would happen if I needed something?”
“I’d get you what you need. What do you mean what would happen?”
“What if I need to be left alone?”
“Do you really need to be left alone?” Ringo asked. “’Cause the Gavin who plays his sax at midnight because he knows I’ll have to come and tell him to knock it off loves my company. It’s the Gavin who pushes me out of his bed before dawn the next morning and tells me I’m—”
“Smothering,” Gavin snapped. “Hovering. Blocking the exits and taking up all my space.”
God, Ringo’s shoulders ached. “Just tell me what you need, Gav. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. I’ll be fine.”
“Sure you will.” Ringo sighed. “I’ll see you later.”
Gavin lobbed him his slow-pitch softball smile, round and a little wobbly. Ringo guessed that was the best he was going to get. “See you.”
“Yeah.” Ringo nodded.
Ringo wished Gavin would say more, like he was looking forward to it, or he’d be glad for the company—something Ringo knew was true, even if Gavin would rather die than admit it—but if he waited for that, he’d stand there forever.
Instead, Ringo got in his golf cart and took off because it never paid to give Gavin even the gentlest squeeze. If Ringo squeezed, Gavin would slip through his fingers like a bar of soap, and they’d end up back at square one.
What do they mean by square one, anyway? Was that a reference to a game or the first stone on a path? The first bubble on the SATs or the first letter they turn on Wheel of Fortune?
Ringo’s square one was the very first time he’d seen Gavin playing saxophone for the summer crowd at the picnic tables. He’d looked like a young Carlos Santana in shades, with a mustache and a highly kissable soul patch. He’d worn a weathered fedora.
Gavin always wore a hat, but that was mostly because his hairline was receding. Ringo went along when Gavin pretended his hats were some kind of fashion statement. They were that too, from skull caps to stingy-brimmed straw fedoras to out-and-out wool felt mafioso lids, but Gavin kept his hair buzzed short and his head covered because he was vain about going bald.
The first time Ringo had seen him, he’d thought Gavin had stepped right out of the movies.
Central casting, get me a Latino street musician.
Ringo drove back toward his office, five miles per hour, waving at the tourists. Trying to look strong and silent. Reassuring, as if he were “the law” in this here town.
As if he were doing something besides pining for a guy who didn’t want him around.
His sister had warned him musicians were dogs, but Ringo had never listened.
God knew, Gavin was a musician. To paraphrase Ringo’s mother’s favorite poem, music was the thing with strings that perched in Gavin’s soul. Wherever Gavin went, he had to blow his horn or pick at his guitar or drum on the park benches and the trashcans with chopsticks. He bought instruments whenever he could, and he always had a half a dozen or so on his patio undergoing repairs. He was constantly tinkering with some broken guitar or refurbishing a brass instrument that needed a little TLC. He sold some on eBay, and some he got attached to.
What he couldn’t live without one day, he gave away the next.
Ringo stopped to bag up some garbage that had blown off a picnic table, and even that reminded him of Gavin: give Gavin a milk carton, a plastic fork, and a couple of rubber bands, and you’d get an entire symphony orchestra.
Gavin had warm golden skin and cold brown eyes, and he lived in a crappy camper because it made him feel free. He didn’t have to live like that; he liked it.
He drank too much, and he laughed too loud, and when Ringo got near the cracks in the shell Gavin had built around himself, Gavin chased him away like a junkyard dog. Gavin had a miserable fucking temper. He could lash out.
It hurt a lot to love a man like that.
Especially when Gavin was always the center of attention and could pick and choose from any man around. He never kept any of his lovers for long; he didn’t know how. He always seemed lonely to Ringo, even if he was rarely alone.
Ringo had pried his way into Gavin’s life through persistence and the judicious application of alcohol, and although they’d washed out, they still kept company sometimes. Lots of times.
Ringo always said that if he had it to do over again, he’d do it over again.
He pitched the trash he’d policed into the Dumpster as he rode by. Hole in one.
That was probably his entire quota of “win” for the day, the rest of which would be spent filing incident reports and making sense of client complaints. He was responsible for lost or stolens, and there was one case of employee pilfering at the snack bar to deal with.
When he got back to the office, he shut himself inside for the better part of the morning, until a knock sounded at his door.
Jurgen, one of the interns, a college kid from Germany, entered and stood nervously in front of Ringo’s desk.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Ringo took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was only thirty, but he couldn’t read without glasses for shit. It made him wonder if he was going to be like his nana, with her bottle-bottom trifocals, when he got old.
“You know the guy who lives in the Cs over by the laundry room, Gavin Lopez?”
“The musician?” Jurgen nodded. “Is there a problem?”
“Little bit. He’s out of commission for a few days because he had to have some knee surgery. Would you mind walking his dog? I’ll pay you, but don’t tell him I said anything about money.”
“I can do that.” The kid spoke English well, with little to no accent, and he was respectful and polite. The smile he gave Ringo was unforced.
“Maybe if you went first thing when you get to work, at lunch, and before you leave?”
“Sure.” Jurgen gave another bob of his head.
“The dog’s name is Bird. Let him run in the fenced off-leash area by the volleyball courts while you’re at lunch. Otherwise keep him on a leash at all times. Give him some exercise; he’s an energetic, curious pooch, so if he gets loose he’s likely to wander into people’s rigs.”
Jurgen smiled wryly. “I can see how that might create concerns.”
“I’ll let you know when to stop—just a few days probably. You’ll be here over the holidays, right?”
“Yes, I’ll be here. Is that all?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Once dismissed, Jurgen left. Ringo wondered what his story was, if he was studying for a career in hospitality, or if he just wanted to work in America for a while. The resort always had foreign interns as part of an exchange program with the local university. Whether they had aspirations to stay in the States, or just wanted a chance to work where they could surf and go to Disneyland and tour the beaches where Baywatch had been filmed, they came and went.
Jurgen seemed like a nice kid. He’d be good for Bird, and maybe Bird would be good for him.
When Ringo made his rounds later, he saw Jurgen and Bird on the beach together, Jurgen running along the water and Bird bounding happily along beside him in puppylike high spirits when he wasn’t busy chasing after sea birds. The sight warmed Ringo’s heart. A boy and a dog could be a beautiful thing.
He watched Jurgen play tug of war with Bird for a while, and then he continued on his rounds, making sure everyone was in their proper space. He liked to greet the campers and check in with the groundskeepers. He needed to make sure the empty cabins were locked up tight.
Since the economy was still in the shitter and the price of gas was at an all-time high, some of the resorts streets echoed with emptiness. The holidays hadn’t brought crowds to the resort the way they usually did, but they still had the die-hard snowbirds.
The size of the population didn’t matter, though. He had to keep security tight, and his crew had to stay dialed in to any potential problems so they could prevent mishaps or react quickly if they were needed.
A case of illegally dumped trash was the most he had to deal with before he sat down at his desk again after lunch to write up incident reports. His security detail for the day, Gunn and Frisbo, patrolled the grounds together while he caught up on paperwork.
Most days, their lives revolved around a series of small, inconsequential matters and the paperwork that went with them.
Most days were dead boring, but it went with the job.
Yessir, I am the sheriff in this here town. Evildoers, beware.


About the Author
Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back.  Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

You can find ZA Maxfield at 
$20 Gift Card to RiptideLost & Found Playlist (3 winners will be selected)

Presented by

Fall Into Romance Hop with Tara Lain! My Favorite Books


Welcome to The Romance Reviews Fall Into Romance Blog Hop! If you are here for the Suicide Prevention Blog Hop, Please click HERE.

Let’s Fall Into Romance together from September 13-21 while we find new and exciting books that we LOVE! Over 100 authors, bloggers, and friends will be recommending the great books of romance. And they all have prizes for you to WIN! To get to the next blog, all you have to do is click the Hop button at the very bottom of this post.

First, let me tell you the prizes you can WIN here on this Blog —

  • A $10 Amazon GC
  • To celebrate the release of F.A.S.T. Balls on September 20th, the winner can TaraLain_FastBalls_453choose one of the four Balls to the Wall books — Volley Balls, Fire Balls, Beach Balls, or Snow Balls

Here’s what you have to do to win:

  • Leave a comment about your favorite books
  • If you feel like it, Like my Facebook Page
  • If you’d like to receive special contests, exclusive excerpts, and sneak previews, subscribe to my newsletter. (See up there on the right?)
  • If you’d like to attend the Facebook Party for the release of F.A.S.T. Balls on September 20th, Click HERE


I have so many favorite authors i can’t begin to mention them all, so what i’d like to do is pay homage to my three  inspirations — the three authors that got me interested in writing erotic romance, specifically LGBT. That each of them have also become a friend is dear to my heart. I will share with you a favorite book by each of them (although i love all their books) :

Jet Mykles — My first MM book was Heavensent. I fell so in love  i haven’t looked back. jm_surseinjudgment_coverlgJet is fantastic. One of my very favorites is her “steampunkish”romance, The Sursein Judgment. Shasertai, her incredible, mystical judge qualifies among my favorite heroes ever. Buy it here. 



Lynn Lorenz — Lynn does it all brilliantly. Wrings your heart and makes you laugh while LL_CP3_EdwardUnconditionally_coversmsquirming from the hotness! I love many of Lynn’s great books but number one is Edward Unconditionally. I know this love is shared by many other readers. Edward and his dog are classics in which you must indulge. Buy it here.



Z.A. Maxfield — The great ZAM! What a voice and what an imagination. Pick anything ZAM_DrawnTogether_coverlg_1from her backlist and you can’t go wrong, but if i must choose just one, i’ll choose my first — Drawn Together. This delightful, sexy story of a guy who goes looking for a girl and finds a guy remains a top favorite all the time. Buy it here.


I hope i’ve increased your reading list! And i hope you’ll come back on September 20th for the release of F.A.S.T. Balls.

Now, to visit the next blog you haven’t yet been to, all you have to do is click on the Hop button below. But first, be sure to leave a comment to win my prizes.

The Romance Reviews Hop

Happy Labor Day! Big Backlist Weekend Extended!

HeartsandFlour_ByTaraLain_453x680Hi —BM_SilverSteel_coverin

Happy Labor Day to those in the US! In honor of Labor Day, i’ve decided to extend Big Backlist Weekend one more day, so if you’d like to enter to win Belinda McBride’s Silver/Steel or my Hearts and Flour, Click HERE! On top of that, Z.A. Maxfield’s tour for My Cowboy Heart is still going on and you can enter to win a $50 GC and copies of her book! Click HERE. 

In case you were wondering, Labor Day in the US is a day meant to commemorate the American worker. It was promoted by American labor unions and created by  President Grover Cleveland in 1887. It’s ironic that the popularity of the day as one of the biggest retail sales days in the US means that many laborers in fact labor on Labor Day for extra hours. Labor Day is also big in sports, signifying the start of the college and NFL football seasons. The US Open Tennis Championships are held around this weekend.

American kids mark their return to school as either before or right after Labor Day, and, as a result, the holiday is considered the unofficial end of summer. And most important, it’s the day beyond which one does not wear white!  LOL.

Let’s celebrate by giving away some books! Be sure to enter Big Backlist Weekend! Winners chosen tomorrow.  : )

Z.A. Maxfield Launches MY COWBOY HEART with Goodies for You!

My Cowboy HeartHi everyone–

If you’re here for the Big Backlist Weekend, Click HERE! Please welcome my good friend, Z.A. Maxfield to the blog. ZAM is a pal and an inspiration for me because she’s such a brilliant writer. She’s one of the reasons i became an author. Also fantastic is the fact that this book, MY COWBOY HEART, is the first gay romance every contracted by Berkeley. So cool! There are wonderful prizes to WIN on ZAM’s Rafflecopter below. Here’s the ZAMtabulous ZAM —

A Day In The Life Of An Author

 I saw a meme the other day on Facebook, about the lives authors lead. It went something like this:

What I want my readers to think I do…

I wake up in the sprawling master bedroom of my island fortress. A balmy tropical breeze blows the diaphanous sheers into the room. They remind me of the past. Of negligees and old lovers who have perished in duels over my honor. I take a minute to dab my face and neck with the lavender water my houseboy, Franz Carl, has left for me. In a moment he’ll be back with coffee and croissants.

Later, after a dip in the ocean and a scheduled tryst with my husband, my secretary Gervaise will stand just behind me and to the right where I cannot see him as he takes dictation. I gaze into an ornate Louis XIV mirror and tell myself the next chapter of my latest bestselling novel. He’ll send that transcript directly to the publisher, where my editors will simply retype it into ebook format and anxiously await the next installment.

Evening finds me in the massive industrial kitchen of my home, where I effortlessly cook family meals. My children and all their friends come over to dine every night. Everyone says I should open a restaurant, but I only demur. That is, after all, not where my true gift lies.

I spend the hours before bed gazing from the balcony on the highest part of the house out onto the churning sea…

What I want my editors think I do…

I wake up at around 4:00 a.m., perform my ablutions and return to bed. At five a.m. I drag my computer into my lap and start work. I give myself five minutes for emails, and five to tell my husband what part of the housework I won’t be doing today. Then I write.

At noon I make my way downstairs for a cup of coffee and toast. I then return to my room to write.

When my children knock, I pretend I’m not there. I once heard my son tell a telemarketer I couldn’t come to the phone because the chains don’t stretch that far…

My husband arrives home at 6:30. I have no idea what he finds when he walks through the door. I wonder briefly if it isn’t better that way.

He pushes some kind of fast food through the bedroom door at around 7:00. At 9:00, he texts me to say how his day went. I answer briefly with my word count.

At eleven, words swim on the screen. I roll over and place my laptop on the nightstand, plugged in, ready for the following day.

I perform my ablutions and go back to bed.

What I actually do…

I wake up, drag my computer into my lap, and answer about an hours worth of emails. Sometimes two hours… By this time, something has gone wrong with the house. The pool is suddenly and inexplicably filled with algae, the toilets don’t flush, carrot shavings are coming up in the shower, or bees are coming down the chimney.

My children are all home for the summer and someone is burning breakfast. Since they all cook for themselves, this will be repeated four times. I go downstairs for coffee and there is none. The bread that’s left is a moldy heel. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think locust had passed through my kitchen. Milk, juice, cereal, frozen meals, lunchmeats, cheese, crackers, even condiments — all gone…

The kale remains the sole survivor in the refrigerator.

I briefly consider changing to sci-fi/horror when this gives me an idea for a story, but then I change my mind.

I stare at the screen. Type the lyrics to “Stairway to Heaven.” Stare some more. Watch the first season of Jonathan Creek. Stare some more. By this time my teens are getting loud. They whine about food. I point out they’re ambulatory. They have cash and friends who drive. Food is available at the market.

Someone knocks on my door at three and tells me they were supposed to be at the orthodontist at two. Similarly, the electricity goes off because I’ve misplaced the bill and forgotten to pay it.

After those two things get straightened out, someone knocks at the front door. He offers to sell me meat off a truck at bargain prices.

I briefly think about becoming a sci-fi/horror writer again. Reject it.

I’ve typed about a hundred useable words an hour. My husband comes home and –here’s where fantasy meets reality – offers to drive through Taco Bell for dinner. My house is now littered with teens who love that idea.

I’ve managed to scrape together a couple thousand usable words when the siren’s song of sleep beckons. I brush my teeth…change my — well, never mind that, I never got out of my pajamas in the first place…

I go to sleep.

Like Scarlet O’hara says, “Tomorrow is another day.”

My Cowboy Heart Banner II

A cowboy’s heart has room for anything…

J-Bar ranch foreman Malloy pretty much keeps to himself—slinking around the edges of everybody else like an old coyote, doing his job and staying private. That is until Crispin Carrasco shows up.

Lean, muscular, and with a motor mouth that won’t quit, Crispin sparks something in Malloy—something the foreman didn’t know was there. But how does a lone coyote approach the warmth of a fire? And more important, what would happen if that fire burned?

MY COWBOY HEART is Available at AMAZON    B&N     Goodreads

Author’s Bio:
Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back.  Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends.  If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four manages to find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

Her published books include Crossing Borders, Drawn Together, and the St. Nacho’s and Brothers Grime series from Loose Id, ePistols at Dawn and The Pharaoh’s Concubine from Samhain Publishing, and Notturno, Vigil, Stirring Up Trouble, and All Stirred Up from MLR Press.

 Author Links:



FB Author Page:



Grand Prize:  1 winner will receive a $50 Gift Card to either Amazon or B&N (winner’s choice) and an e-copy of “My Cowboy Heart”.

Additional Prize: 3 additional winners will be selected to receive e-book copies of “My Cowboy Heart”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thank you so much for coming by! Be sure to enter on the Rafflecopter. And make sure you also entered the Big Backlist Weekend!

Enchantress of Books Blog Tours.jpg

Big Weekend Coming — Prizes, Books, and Cool Stuff!

Hi everyone-

Here’s a little preview of this weekend’s fun. Tomorrow (Saturday) begins Big Backlist BM_SilverSteel_coverinWeekend with me and Belinda McBride. Belinda is giving away Silver/Steel. Werewolves and vampires and, holy cow. I have a book to giveaway too, so plan to come by and enter.

On Sunday, Z.A. Maxfield brings her new book blog tour to my site to introduce you to My Cowboy Heart. She’s giving away copies of the My Cowboy Heartbook and a lovely GC so do not miss it.

I thought you might enjoy seeing that CATACLYSMIC SHIFT is featured on the erotica homepage at Night Owl Reviews. Watch the slider. Very TL_AT#3_cataclysmicshift_coverincool.

See you tomorrow for BBW!  : )

Ready for a FABU Week to Come?

Back To School Hi —

I’m pausing today to get you ready for my FABU Week of great guests and fantastic prizes so you can put stuff on your calendars. Here’s what’s coming up right here on the blog–

Friday (August 23 – 30) — Back to School Hop! You’ll have a week to enter to win a $100 GC and other cool prizes

Saturday – (August 24) — K-lee Klein with Unbreak My Heart. Hop on the Rafflecopter

Monday (August 26)  — S.J.Maylee posts about her brand new release

Wednesday (August 28) — Victoria Blisse takes over the Blog

Saturday (Aug 31) — Big Backlist Weekend with pal Belinda McBride and her out-of-this world romance. We’re giving books away!

Sunday (September 1) — Z.A. Maxfield shares her new bestseller, My Cowboy Heart with a chance at great prizes!

How’s that for a great lineup? Oh, if you’re on Facebook, click this link and you’ll be able to sign up for the Party for the release of F.A.S.T. Balls on September 20th.  There will be prizes from me and lots of author friends.

In between all the great guests, i’ll be posting my usual videos and comments on the world of romance. Some of those posts you can see by scrolling down! : )