Please help me welcome Martha O’Sullivan to my blog today.
My love affair with California began at the tender age of fifteen and continues today, three decades later. So it should come as no surprise that the book of my heart, which somehow turned into a trilogy, is set there.
Maybe it was the indescribable thrill of a Midwestern girl seeing the ocean for the first time (we have a lake in Chicago, but it’s not the same). Or the sight of unapologetically bronzed coeds with movie-star teeth driving silver metallic convertibles and playing volleyball in the sand. Perhaps the towering palm trees swaying against the impossibly blue sky? But that was in Southern Cal; my Chances trilogy takes place in Lake Tahoe and San Francisco, hundreds of miles north.
I was an unassuming only child of the 70’s, growing up in a place where a short, precious summer turned into a long, cold winter seemingly overnight. What else was I to do but read (thanks, Carolyn Keene)?
In high school, I often opted for the city bus because it stopped in front of the library. Just a branch, mind you, but they had loads of paperback books. And no matter the inventory du jour, I was drawn to the revolving wire rack of romance novels. Harlequin Presents, Danielle Steel and later on, Nora Roberts.
The books took me to places all over the world where effortlessly beautiful, wonderfully flawed heroines were swept off their feet by dynamic, irresistible heroes. I preferred the books to the afternoon soaps because I could imagine the characters in my mind’s eye. And if I found the ending disappointing or abrupt, I would simply continue the story in my head.
Writing such ideas down, however, took another thirty years.
In the interim, I went to college and met my own prince charming. And he took me to San Francisco on our honeymoon.
And, as cliché as it sounds, that’s where I left my heart. Well, part of it anyway. Because eight years and two babies later, he took me to Lake Tahoe for the very first time.
And my frisson with California moved even farther north.
I hope my books will take you there. And you’ll leave a little piece of yours behind too.
BIO:
Martha O’Sullivan has loved reading romance novels for as long as she can remember. So much so that she would continue the story in her head long after the last chapter was read. Writing her own novels is the realization of a lifelong dream for this stay-at-home mom. She is the author of the Chances trilogy available now from Red Sage Publishing. Martha writes contemporary and erotic romances with traditional couples and happy endings.Her current work-in-progress is a Christmas novel set in Florida. A native Chicagoan, she lives her own happy ending in Tampa with her husband and two daughters.
The Chances trilogy by Martha O’Sullivan
When I started writing Second Chance five years ago, a trilogy was the farthest thing from my mind. Moira and Paul’s story was originally part of that first novel. But as Lindsay and Brian’s adventure evolved, I realized there wasn’t room in the book to do Moira and Paul justice, not to mention the unrivaled beauty of the Lake Tahoe winter. And since Delaney and Mike’s Chance Encounter was dancing relentlessly in my head, I put Moira and Paul ‘s Last Chance on hold. Now it’s their turn for Happily Ever After. I hope you’re as excited to see them again as I am! What better way to conclude the Chances trilogy than to come full circle.
In Second Chance (Chances trilogy book #1), star-crossed lovers Lindsay Foster and Brian Rembrandt keep the rugged, fawn-colored shores of Lake Tahoe blazing hot long after the summer sun has set. In Chance Encounter (Chances trilogy book #2), Delaney Richards and Mike Savoy heat up San Francisco’s chilly days and fog-cloaked nights with white-hot passion and pulse-pounding suspense. In Last Chance (Chances trilogy conclusion) the long-bridled desire of Moira Brody and Paul Webster melt the snowcapped Sierras into torrid puddles despite the single-digit temperatures of the Lake Tahoe winter.
Excerpt from Last Chance
Moira’s emerald saucers were filling behind their licorice lashes and she was biting her bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears. Paul couldn’t have stopped himself from going to her if he’d wanted to.
“Moira, what are we doing?” he entreated, gripping her forearms. “What have I done? Have I lost you?”
She shook her head from side to side and her eyes began to empty, leaving sooty tire-like tracks on her china doll face. Tipping his head back in silent thanks, Paul took her in his arms. She moved into his body, sobbing through sawed-off breaths.
“Tell me nothing happened. Tell me there’s nothing between you and him,” he prayed out loud after an affecting moment.
She answered by burrowing her head deeper into his shoulder and wreathing his middle. He felt her breathing level off and he kissed the top of her coal-black mane. She smelled like a subtle version of earlier, infused with wine and garlic. Hope replaced the uneasiness in his stomach and he heard himself say, “I had to force myself not to go back there. I’ve been driving around for hours, going crazy.”
She angled out of his grasp just enough to make eye contact. Suddenly she was the girl he used to know again, not the woman tying his insides into knots. Or maybe the perfect combination of both. Her eyes began to shine and a satisfied smile curved her lips. “You have?”
“Yeah. Like outside my mind crazy.” He laid his lips on hers and tasted the salt from her tears. She melted into the kiss, then the next. He wondered if she could sense him growing behind the zipper. Or the spool of want unwinding into a thousand frazzled threads in his gut. Gasping for air, he released her mouth and cupped her face. “You make me crazy, Moira Brody. Absolutely crazy.”
Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to swell again. She swallowed hard and allowed, “Then I like you crazy.”
Resting his forehead on hers, he let the night roll down his back like a recalcitrant tumbleweed. Then he closed his eyes and appealed, “Do I need to fight for you, Moira?”
She laughed a little. “Well, Jason did bring flowers, dinner, wine.”
“I brought flowers, dinner, wine,” Paul defended high-mindedly, straightening. “Did you ever get the Chinese food?”
“Yeah, it’s in there.” She nodded over his shoulder at the sub-zero they’d picked out together.
“It’s your favorite. Cashew chicken.”
“Thank God,” she gushed, dabbing the outer corners of her eyes. “I’m starving.”
Paul’s nose wrinkled. “Did Bernini’s have a bad night?”
“Not from what I picked at.”
“Poor guy,” he gloated through a chuckle. “Went to all that trouble for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say for nothing,” Moira demurred, her eyes dancing with innuendo. “He seemed to enjoy the evening.”
“Oh?” inquired Paul, stepping out of her embrace.
Gleaming now, she raised her eyebrows mischievously. “Yeah.”
He felt his expression plummet. “Did he kiss you good night?”
“He did,” preened Moira.
Paul couldn’t believe how much that bothered him. “Did you want him to?”
Her face instantly sobered. “No,” she avowed, then finished with hushed care. “I wanted you to come back.”
“I did.” As if he’d had any choice in the matter. Paul drew her to him again and ran his hands up and down her willowy back. “I had to.”
The Chances trilogy is available at: my website marthaosullivan26.wix.com/marthaosullivan
RED SAGE Publishing: http://eredsage.com/store/OSULLIVAN_MARTHA.html
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/second-chance-martha-o-x2019-sullivan/1116810263?ean=2940148803621
I love that you write about a place that’s near and dear to you. I love the cover! It’s so pretty! I wish you all the best!