Thursday Threads: Lower's Blame It on the Brontes



BLAME IT ON THE BRONTES by Becky Lower

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Heat Level: Sensual


Three separate love stories intertwine around a central theme, as fractious sisters Charlotte, Emily and Anne Bronson, each in her forties, are in Puffin Bay, ME for their mother's funeral. Each is ready to sink their claws into the fortune their mother left behind. But their mother has other plans. Her substantial fortune won't be divided until the trio return to their childhood home and live together for a year. It's a request that pits sister against sister but could unite them in a common goal to find the friendship they shared as children, to create a family jewelry business and to win over the men of Puffin Bay. They have a year to figure it all out.


Excerpt:
Anne Bronson pressed her foot on the gas pedal, trying to ignore the little red light on the dashboard—the one highlighting the E on her gas gauge. She willed the rental moving truck to make it up the next hill, hunching over the steering wheel to help with the climb. No good gas-guzzling piece of crap. Anne directed the truck to the side of the road. There should have been plenty of fuel to get to the house.
If she hadn’t already maxed out her credit card, she would have gladly paid professionals to move her from New York to Maine. But here she was, driving her own belongings north, and out of gas. Her stomach knotted even tighter. She had an inheritance at stake. Eighteen minutes till midnight. Damn.
Hauling her purse behind her, she climbed out of the truck. She kicked a tire and let out a half-hearted scream at the damage her instinctive motion caused her black leather Manolo Blahniks. Tapping her fingernails against her teeth, she peered up and down the dark road. No headlights. No life. No sound.
She fished into her purse for her cell phone and stared at it. No signal, of course. With a deep sigh, she wrestled with her old suitcase with its wonky wheel and strapped her oversized purse across her body as she began to climb the rest of the way up the incline. Two miles to the house. She had eighteen minutes to get there. In six-inch heels.

Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/beckylowerauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BeckyLower1
Blog: http://beckylowerauthor.blogspot.com
Website: http://www.beckylowerauthor.com
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/authorbeckyl/

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Blame-Brontes-ebook/dp/B00CLVACYA

Soul Mate: http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/blame-it-on-the-brontes/

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Public Peeing: A Case for Gender Desegregation

Image
I just wrote a scene about a topic near and dear all our hearts: public bathrooms. Below is an excerpt from my book. “Yeah, so how come girls and boys have different bathrooms?” … Josh thought for a time. “I don’t know for sure,” she said. “But I read about it in the Twelve’s* books. I think they did it and we inherited it from them. You know we live in buildings they built and use sewer systems they fashioned.” Garyn shook her head. “Well, we do. We owe our infrastructure to the Twelves. They were great builders and developers. Not so great at taking care of each other, but you know that…I guess they thought women and men should pee separately.” “Why?” Garyn persisted. “We don’t eat in separate places.” … “I don’t know, Garyn,” she said finally. “…I do know the Twelves thought a lot about sex. I think they were worried they wouldn’t be able to control themselves if they knew the person right next to them was only half-clothed.” Lynna snorted. “What about onesex or
Read more

Bustin' Some Welfare Myths

Image
In my classrooms, and sometimes on Facebook, a topic comes up so predictably and with such frequency I can almost mouth the words as they begin to emerge from students’ earnest mouths: Gotta watch those those welfare recipients to ensure they don't  Abuse the System© . The thing is, I don't know if they know they're the very recipients we should be watching. Yeah, you heard right: welfare. I’m not going to pretty it up by saying “recipients of social assistance” or “family assistance.” I’m going old school and using the most emotional language I can: Welfare. Recipients. Full disclosure, as bloggers are wont to do: I grew up on welfare. When I was four, my mother grabbed my two sisters and me and fled a violent situation. We slept in our car, bounced among various relatives, rented tiny trailers. Finally, we landed ourselves Section 8 housing , which meant a constant roof and our own beds. I’m not going to lie: The highlight of our month included waiting by the
Read more

The Fat Twin Phenomenon

Image
My identical tw-- uh, best friend (left) and me Did you know I have a twin? I do. Lots of them, in fact. Or, if not a twin, at least a sister. Millions. My poor mom. Picture this: Two women sit next to one another on a shuttle to a hotel in Chicago. The shuttle driver grins at them in the mirror and asks, “Are you two twins?” They get the same question a few days later. A few years later, while one of them visits the other’s workplace, several people approach the smiling duo and ask if they’re sisters. They’re not twins. They’re not even sisters. In fact, they are separated by years (nine), hair (one has long, straight, blonde hair, while the other’s is curly and brown), height (the blonde is two or three inches taller), and body shapes (the blonde is more hourglass). Their eye colors and face shapes are completely different, and no one would ever confuse their voices over the phone. However, they have three things in common that automatically, and apparently, render t
Read more