#ReleaseDay for Wolf Vow by Christine DePetrillo

Sound the trumpets! Release the balloons! Light the fireworks!

It. Is. Release. Day.

Go ahead. Applaud and dance around. I'll wait.

Ah, forget waiting. I'm applauding and dancing with you! 

I'm always amazed that the elated feelings of a release day never lessen even after you've released a bunch of books. The anticipation. The satisfaction. The completion. It's all so wonderful! Every single time!

Today I release WOLF VOW, Book Three in my Warrior Wolves Series. 

Blurb:

Warrior Kole McMannus has been traveling across the country in a time that is not his own, searching for his brother. Since the day a Celtic goddess banished him from his home in Ireland, he’s battled wolves, wandered from state to state, and nearly lost all hope of being reunited with his kin. When he lands in Vermont and finds two of his cousins living the good life, however, he picks up new energy to continue his quest. Getting back to his old life with his brother is within his reach… if he still wants to grab it.

Singer and fiddler Emma Rhodes has a dream to launch her Celtic rock band, Hendrake, to international fame. She and her three bandmates have been giving their all to this cause, including a trip to Deer Creek Inn in the quiet woods of Vermont to write new material. It will only take one song to make their fantasies a reality. Without distractions maybe they can finally find the tune to take them to the top.

Or maybe Emma will find a new distraction.

When Kole and Emma meet over breakfast at the inn, he can’t get her scent out of his nose and she can’t forget the dazzling blue of his eyes. A run in the dark woods could change everything.

Making wolf vows is easy. Keeping them is harder.

Chapter One Excerpt:

The sandy Irish shore was gone beneath his paws. Instead, frigid snow stretched out in all directions around him. Kole McMannus shook out his wet brown fur and squinted his crystal blue eyes against the blinding white. Dark shadows of trees lined the horizon to his left, and icy peaks of mountains cut into pristine blue sky to his right.

Where am I?

He’d been in Ireland, kneeling with his fellow soldiers—his brothers—before the Celtic goddess, Flidae, protector of all wild things. She was pissed at their leader, Reardon McAlator, who had turned some members of his mercenary army into werewolves so they could slay the Spanish king’s bloodthirsty enemy. Flidae didn’t take kindly to her creatures being used as killers and had banished the turned men, Kole included.

And Shawn. His brother.

Kole immediately sniffed the cold air. He hadn’t been a werewolf long enough to understand how everything worked. He just knew he was hungry all the time and his anger wasn’t as easily controlled as it used to be. Unfortunately, anger was the only emotion coursing through him right now. Directed mostly at Reardon.

He sniffed again, not sure what Shawn smelled like. When his brother was a normal human, he mostly smelled of ale and sweat, like the rest of the army. Kole didn’t smell either of those in this arctic land, but Shawn was probably still in wolf form.

Unless…

No. He refused to believe he and his brother had been separated. Surely Flidae wasn’t that cruel. Was she?

Kole ran toward the tree line, sucking in air that nearly froze his nose. Nothing smelled remotely recognizable. Nothing stirred around him except the snow his paws kicked up as he ran. He skidded to a halt and tuned his ears to his surroundings instead. Perhaps that sense would lead him to his brother.

Standing still, the tree line a few gallops away, Kole listened until his ears stung with the silence. He let out a growl and shifted to human, but the freezing temperatures were too much for his naked flesh to endure.

There was also the headache. The one that pulsed inside his skull when he was in human form. It had started when he’d first been turned into a werewolf, but Reardon had said the change could cause such symptoms. Kole hoped the headaches would subside as time wore on—as he got accustomed to being a werewolf.

Not likely to happen.

He didn’t want to get accustomed to being a werewolf. He actually didn’t care if he was a normal man anymore. Being in wolf form, however… well, that was oddly comfortable. He maybe preferred being a wolf. Being a werewolf though? No. He didn’t want to live a life like that.

After shouting Shawn’s name a few times and getting no response, Kole shifted back to wolf form and continued toward the trees. The sun was slipping to its resting place and those trees were more inviting than the barren white blanket Flidae had tossed him on.

Alone apparently.

She was a tricky wench. Telling the men they had to do something worthy in order to get back to Ireland. How was he supposed to do that when he was the only one here? And where had she sent his brother? Shawn was a capable soldier. He could take care of himself, as could any of the men, but Shawn was the only immediate family Kole had left.

Their mother had died in childbirth along with the sister who wasn’t meant to be. Their father—a seafaring man—had perished a few years later in a shipwreck. When Reardon, their cousin, asked them to join his army, neither brother had to think too hard about their answers.

They hadn’t regretted their decisions either. Reardon had led them to glory in every sense of the word. Hired as mercenaries by rich kings, the army traveled, shed blood, claimed victory, basked in fame, and accepted unimaginable wealth. Kole and Shawn had been happy to be counted among their cousin’s forces.

Until Reardon had shared his curse with them. Betrayal was a difficult concept to swallow, especially from someone they’d all put their complete trust in.

Kole wasn’t blind though. The Spanish king’s enemies would have broken Reardon’s winning streak. Legends would have fallen on the battlefield if Reardon hadn’t taken some action. Kole wasn’t sure being turned into werewolves was the right action, but it hadn’t been his decision to make.

Just my consequence to suffer.

He was more upset by the banishment from Ireland and the separation from Shawn than the werewolf part. He could manage being a wolf. Being without his brother was the worst.

Leaping into the woods, Kole made a vow to find Shawn, no matter what it took. He’d figure out this place, find civilization, ask questions, fight if he had to. Shawn would no doubt be doing the same. 

They’d find each other.

They would.

Still hoping that perhaps Shawn was here somewhere, Kole shifted back to human again.

“Shawn!” The snow crunched under his bare feet, his toes feeling numb. “Shawn, are you here?” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to hold on to whatever warmth he might still have inside him.

He wandered deeper into the forest where the wind wasn’t as biting, the trees offering a little protection. What he wouldn’t do for some garments. Being a soldier meant he’d worn armor most of the time, and though the thought of cold iron sent a shiver through him, he’d prefer his fighting gear over nothing right now.

“Shawn, please be here, brother.”

After a few circles around the area that didn’t turn up anything besides more ice-laden trees, Kole cradled his head in his hands, the headache throbbing behind his eyes again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a growl and prepared to shift back to wolf form.

A crack sounded behind him and he whirled around. “Shawn?” He took a few steps in that direction, wanting to shift, but also wanting to be able to talk out loud to his brother. “Is that you?”

Movement happened all around him at once as six wolves emerged from the frosty shadows. Brown fur, black, gray, white blurred as they formed a semi-circle in front of him. Their keen eyes zeroed in on him as Kole’s heartbeat roared in his painful head. He’d had plenty of chances to die on the battlefield. Brutally. Bloodily. Not once did he think he’d be torn apart by wolves in an unknown arctic landscape with absolutely no one to mourn his death.

He went with his first instinct. Run.

Swiveling on his numb heel, he scrambled over frozen brush, cold air burning in his lungs as he ran. Behind him, the wolves’ paws thundered on the ground, sending vibrating shockwaves under his own feet. Growls and snarls sounded as they pursued him. Hot breath flooded his bare backside, and as welcome as that warmth was, he didn’t stop running. If he stopped, he was dead. If he was dead, he couldn’t find Shawn. If he didn’t find Shawn, he’d never forgive himself for suggesting they join Reardon’s army. His brother could have been spared Reardon’s foolish decision to turn them and Flidae’s harsh banishment to punish them.

Shawn followed Kole. Always. Five years younger, he regarded Kole’s thirty-six years of existence as something to be listened to and not questioned. His brother thought him wise. His brother thought wrong. A wise man didn’t find himself running naked from hungry wolves in the snow.  

Shift. Flidae’s voice echoed in his head, the word amplifying the ache there. Shaking his head, he kept running, afraid the time it would take him to shift would allow those wolves to sink their teeth into him. He also didn’t want the goddess’s help. She was the one who had gotten him into this predicament in the first place.

Not me. Reardon McAlator.

Aye, right. His cousin. Some of the blame was his, but Kole made his own choices too. Choices that affected Shawn. And not for the better.

A sharp pain exploded in his left heel and he let out a shriek, the likes of which he never would have believed himself capable of. Glancing down quickly, he noted the bloody footprints trailing over the snowy ground as he ran. One of the wolves had bitten him. The scent of blood intensifying their chase. 

Maybe Flidae was right. If he shifted, he might outrun them. He could at least heal that bite faster. 

Perhaps he could show these wolves he was one of them.

Will they accept me?

Only one way to find out, Flidae said.

Not helpful. Why would she be? This was all a game to her.

No game, wolf soldier. Just survival.

Which he wasn’t going to do if he didn’t get away from these wolves.

He burst out of the trees and dug his toes into the snow when a cliff appeared in front of him. An icy cliff. One he continued to slide toward. He had no idea what magnitude of drop waited for him, but if the white-capped peaks at eye-level on the other side of the chasm were any indication, the ride would be a long way down. The edge laughed at him, knowing full well it was about to swallow him whole.

If it didn’t, those wolves surely would.

Kole jammed his heels into the ice-covered snow, his bitten heel screaming in protest as more flesh tore. He glided toward the precipice as the wolves narrowed the gap between them. Their teeth were bared, showing their unhappiness at his intrusion in their territory. Saliva dripped from their mouths only to freeze in the fur around their snapping jaws.

Shift.

He let out a growl as he dropped to all fours and clawed the snow with his hands to stop his glide toward the edge, but his momentum would not be stopped.

With a roar, the wolves leaped at him.

He had a strange moment to observe them in mid-air, all their muscles tensed and ready to rip him to shreds. That moment was enough time for his wolf to explode free.

Kole was a much larger wolf than they were and when they landed, each one of them skittered back, whines cutting through the silence. He bared his own teeth, his hackles raising, making him larger than he already was. His back leg was slick with blood still, but he pushed that aside. His headache was gone, allowing him to focus and think and plan.

He let loose a roar that had the other wolves lowering their tails and back-stepping. His first concern was getting away from the cliff edge so he rushed forward, growling, barking, snapping his jaws until that precipice was no longer a danger.

Now to deal with threat number two.

Kole lunged at the closest wolf, but before he could do any damage, all six of the wolves bowed their heads to him. A few whines still sounded, but their utter submission surprised him.

You lead them now, Flidae said.

Lead? He’d never been a leader. He took charge of Shawn, but that was about it. Kole had always followed. Reardon mostly. And look where that got me.

Lead. Aye. He could be Alpha of this pack. He could stay in wolf form for a while. Just until he figured out how to find Shawn. These wolves could show him the lay of the land, keep him fed, fight any other threats this place held.

He could… enjoy being a wolf. No trying to be both man and wolf. No lamenting what he’d become. 

No headaches.

Letting out a puff of air as acceptance of their submission, Kole nudged each wolf with his head until all six of them were standing before him.

Food, he thought and, instantly, the wolves took off. The last wolf glanced back at him as if to say, 

This way, Alpha.

Maybe they could lead him to Shawn too.

He ran after them, but quickly took the lead when the wolves found a moose. His stomach growled. 

Apparently banishment worked up an appetite.

The wolves fanned out around the moose, using brush as cover, then as a unified front—as an army—they lunged, Kole at the neck of the animal. Bringing down the antlered beast was easy with a pack. 

Within moments, they were sharing their first meal together. Bonding.

Kole knew he shouldn’t like tearing into the moose’s flesh so much. Blood dribbling down his fur shouldn’t have pleased him. Raw meat shouldn’t have tasted so heavenly.

But gods be damned, it did.

If you haven't started the Warrior Wolves Series yet, you can right now by downloading Wolf Kiss, Book One, for only $0.99.

I hope you'll celebrate this release day with me and all the Warrior Wolves! You can also enter to win a $50 Amazon Gift eCard by visiting my website. Scroll down on the home page for the details.

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

I Love Mountain Men by Christine DePetrillo

So if you've read any of my Maple Leaf Series books, you know that I love mountain men. One of my favorite heroes is Orion Finley from More Than Cookies, the second book in the series. Orion is a chainsaw artist/lumberjack who just wants to get his daughter back from his witchy ex-wife. He also takes care of his father who suffers from Alzheimer's. When he meets Sage Stannard, he finds out there are a few more things he wants out of life too.

Orion is very outdoorsy and skilled with a chainsaw. He makes great pieces of art out of stumps. Here's a handy guide for you about the Anatomy of a Lumberjack.

And of course, what good is a mountain man without his canine companion?

Let's end with a little excerpt from More Than Cookies.

The July sunshine filtered through the maple trees and white pines, casting warm, golden streaks on the lush greenery beneath Orion Finley’s booted feet. He absolutely loved summertime in the Vermont woods. Everything smelled fresh and alive. Huge dragonflies hovered in place as they checked on a leaf here, a branch there, then landed on a rock bordering the path leading deeper into the woods. A few hawks circled overhead, letting loose screeches every now and then to make sure Orion knew they were keeping an eye on him.

Only two things were missing to make this trek into the forest perfect. His dog, a Greater Swiss Mountain dog named Ranger, and his six-year-old daughter, Myah Rose. Both were currently held captive in his fire-breathing ex-wife’s lair.

Temporary.

He had to constantly remind himself that it wouldn’t be this way forever. He would get both of them back. Soon. Orion didn’t care what he had to do, but Ranger and Myah belonged with him and he wouldn’t stop until everything was as it should be. He had plenty of room at his farmhouse for a small girl, a large dog, himself, and his father, Ian Finley, a retired fisherman who Orion now cared for. He could handle it all. He knew he could. Proving it—when his opposition was a she-beast lawyer he used to love—was turning out to be the biggest challenge of his life, but he wasn’t one to shy away. Especially not when the reward was getting to see Myah every single day.

Damn, he missed her blue eyes and her black hair—two features she shared with him, only her eyes were bigger and her hair longer. Her smile was definitely better than his too, because she still remembered how to smile. His lips, on the other hand, were reluctant to take on that shape since The Divorce. Since Adriana Whitfield-Finley, his once true love, decided being married to a chainsaw artist and living in the woods of Vermont wasn’t what she was “put on this stinking planet to do.” She wasn’t supposed to be “wasting her time and intelligence on someone like him.” Her words. Her razor sharp, dice-a-man’s-heart-into-pieces words.

Whatever. He never should have gotten involved with her in the first place. He knew as well as his father did that sophisticated women didn’t settle down with men like them. Men who liked to spend their days outdoors, making things with their own two hands. Men who were more comfortable wearing sawdust than cologne.

Men who weren’t rolling in money.

Orion’s mother had skipped out on them when he was ten. Adriana hadn’t made it to Myah’s tenth birthday before she had to get away from the “stifling squeeze” Vermont—and apparently he—had applied to her metaphorical throat.

He hated metaphors.

He also wouldn’t be getting into any situations remotely resembling a relationship with a woman. They were all sweet smiles and passionate kisses… until the claws came out.

No thanks.

Sighing now as he continued farther into the woods, Orion pushed aside thoughts of Adriana, Myah, Ranger, and his father. This morning was about finding the perfect trees for his next sculptures. The order was for three life-sized black bears—one of his most favorite things to carve. A zoo in New York had requested the carved critters for a display to be erected near the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in December. They wanted them now so they could build the rest of the display around his bears. This one customer would bring in some good money. Hopefully it would be enough to convince a judge that he could support his daughter.

After taking a swig from his water bottle, Orion followed a brook toward a grove of suitable pines. Tall, straight, and healthy, they were perfect for this project. He reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and produced three lengths of bright orange rope. He tagged three trees to mark them for his buddy, Adam Rouse, who would come in with the heavy equipment, cut those babies down for him, and tow them to Orion’s workshop. Then he’d get to hack away at the logs until the bears emerged from the shavings.

He couldn’t wait.

Carving always made him feel… free. As if he could give birth to absolutely anything he wanted out of that wood. As if it were just waiting for him to breathe beauty, creativity, and art into it. As if, without him, the wood would not have fulfilled its true purpose in this life.

He ran his rough and scarred hands over the trunk of the nearest pine. The bark scraped across his fingertips—except for the pinkie fingertip on his left hand. He’d lost from the first knuckle up to the tip during one carving project, making the entire cast of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz for an obsessed Frank L. Baum fan. If Orion had “only had a brain,” he would have been extra careful carving around the lion’s mane, but he’d still been developing his techniques. Still experimenting with which angles created the right effects, which tools did the job best. He’d made a rather important note to self on that job. Under no circumstances should one’s pinkie finger come into contact with the grinder’s blade. Not good. Lots of blood. Lots of swearing.

Looking at that abbreviated finger now, he shook his head and pulled out his cell phone.

“Hey, Adam,” he said when his buddy answered, “I’m west of the brook, about two-thirds of a mile in. Tagged three trees.”

“Got it,” Adam said. “I’ll grab those for you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, man.” And that ended their conversation. Vermont men didn’t need a lot of words to get jobs done. Orion liked it that way.

Carrying his phone, he turned to retrace his steps back to his workshop. As he walked, dog barks and a few gunshots echoed somewhere closer than he would have liked. Damn hunters were always parading through his land with their bloodhounds, cornering bears, and calling it a sport when they put a bullet into the trapped creature.

Pointless.

As far as Orion was concerned, there were much better ways to spend one’s time.

He continued on his way but stopped when a deer bounded across his path. Its big brown eyes connected with his for a moment then the animal was gone. While Orion stared down the path the deer had taken, another shot rang out.

Something hot and painful bit into his right thigh. He immediately clamped a hand over the aching area, and his stomach did a sick flip-flop when his hand came away wet and red. His vision got spotty. His ears rang and not in the this-is-an-awesome-rock-concert way. No, definitely more like the I’ve-been-shot-and-am-going-to-pass-out way instead.

This was so not the morning he’d planned.

See where Orion ends up after being shot in More Than Cookies and enjoy Book One in the series, More Than Pancakes, for FREE in ebook!

Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Getting Stuck with #Valentine’s Day by Christine DePetrillo

I always get stuck posting on Valentine’s Day and I don’t like Valentine’s Day. I’ve decided this year to treat you all to an excerpt of characters on their way to being in love instead of a rant on why I think Valentine’s Day is dumb. You’re welcome.

Enjoy.

From More Than Pancakes, Book One in The Maple Leaf Series, #FREE in ebook everywhere…

Rick pulled up a chair to the boxes of books Hope and Sage had left in the store by the display shelves. Poe took up residence on the floor beside him and sniffed all the corners of the closest box. He began loading the books on the shelves, turning some of the covers outward so customers could get a good look at them. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the store when customers were in there. He preferred a more behind the scenes involvement in the business and that was part of what had made him not so successful in New York. He liked dealing with the equipment, the actual trees, the land as well as the financial side. Running the business from the city had only allowed him to crunch the numbers and collect the profits. Maybe some folks liked that hands-off approach, but not Rick. He wanted to smell the melting winter, the blooming spring, and the boiling sap.

As he continued stacking books, Poe padded to the door and woofed once at it.

“No customers today, Poe. Not yet.” 

She barked again at the door and as she sat by it, a soft knock echoed in the store. Rick put down the books he had in his lap and limped to the nearest window. A Jeep he didn’t recognize was in front of the store along with footprints in the remaining patch of snow. The knock came again, but he couldn’t see who was at the door. He contemplated not answering as he often did when the phone rang, but figured it wouldn’t waste much time to explain the store wasn’t open yet.

He ambled to the door, resting his hand on the tables as he passed by without the cane. As he neared the door, another knock sounded.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m coming.” He cursed his slowness and hoped he’d be rid of the cast soon. Not likely, judging by the ache, but a man could hope.

He reached the door and pulled it open. What was standing on the other side of it made him forget his own name.

A woman. Not much shorter than him with reddish-blond hair that brushed her shoulders and curled about a face meant for makeup commercials. Her skin had a wonderful glow he’d never seen on any native Vermonter, and her eyes were blue-green jewels. Slim, black jeans spanned down two long, shapely legs and disappeared into brown, knee-high leather boots that belonged on a runway not on his partly muddy, partly snowy doorstep. The rust-colored dress coat that hung to her thighs also seemed out of place in this setting, but not out of place on her. The woman was perfection in that coat, and the cream-colored scarf she had looped around her neck fascinated Rick.

Poe barked and the woman jumped. “Is that a coyote?” Her voice, soft yet assertive, matched her delicate mouth and intense eyes, but she looked as if she were ready to run for her vehicle.

“Yeah, but she won’t hurt you. She’s been raised to think she’s a big hamster.” What is this woman doing here? Then the pieces fell into place in his mind. “You’re one of Hope or Sage’s friends, right?” That had to be it, but he didn’t remember ever seeing this one. He didn’t think he could forget her if he had seen her. God, she was tall.

“No,” she said. “I don’t know Hope or Sage. I’m looking for whoever signed this.” She pulled an envelope out of her shoulder bag and rifled through it. While keeping a wary eye on Poe, she handed Rick one of the documents, and he scanned it quickly.

“You’re looking for me then.” Why did that make something in his stomach tighten?

“You’re the neighbor? You knew Gail Hinsdale?” A section of snow slid off the roof and landed in a pile about a foot away from the woman. She stumbled back and threw a glance all around her, almost dropping the envelope in the process.

“Come in,” Rick said, though he hadn’t remembered consciously deciding to invite her inside.

“Thank you.” She knocked the mud and snow off her boots and squeezed past him into the store. She smelled like grapefruit and coconut and sunshine. Like something far too exotic to be here with him. “Could you…” She motioned to Poe and made a shooing gesture with her gloved hand.

“Sure. C’mon, Poe.” Rick smacked his thigh and shuffled toward the kitchen behind the pastry case. He pushed open the door and guided Poe in. She whimpered on the other side when she realized he’d locked the door.

Poor girl. Rick felt like a big, fat meany.

“I appreciate that. Wild animals unsettle me.” The woman pulled off her leather gloves to reveal long, slim fingers with nails polished a deep crimson.

“She’s not wild,” Rick said. 

“Right. Tell that to her teeth.” The woman dropped the envelope on one of the tables and unlooped the scarf to expose a slender neck. She turned in a tight circle to survey the store. What was she thinking? She obviously came from a place where the stores didn’t look like his.

“You knew Gail Hinsdale?” She leveled her gaze on Rick, then flicked a glance down to his ankle. “Do you want to sit down?”

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” He indicated the chair across from the one he currently had a death grip on.

She slid the chair out and sat on it, but just on the edge, not like she meant to stay for any length of time. This saddened Rick, because for the first time in his life, he didn’t have the urge to get rid of company.

He eased onto the opposite chair, and the muscles in his entire body relaxed as the pressure was taken off his ankle. The woman noticed.

“What happened there?” She peeked under the table.

“Snowshoeing incident.” He shrugged, determined not to explain any further though the woman waited a moment as if he might. “How is Gail? I haven’t seen her in a little while.”

The woman’s lips twisted down at the corners, and Rick had this ridiculous urge to scoot over to her side of the table and… and do something.

“Gail died.” Those piercing blue-green eyes grew watery. “My grandmother is gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rick said. “She was real generous with allowing me to tap her trees. Nearly doubled my productivity.” He had reaped nothing but benefits from his arrangement with Gail Hinsdale. One of the smartest, healthiest business moves he’d ever made. 

“She left me the property.” The woman extended her hand. “I’m Lily Hinsdale.”

Taking her hand in his and noting how cold her fingers were, he said, “Rick Stannard.” He looked at the envelope again. “Are you thinking of moving to the property?”

At this, Lily let out a loud laugh. “Moving to Vermont? Are you serious? I don’t want to be here right now, never mind live here.” She brushed her hair out of her face with a shaky finger.

“What’s wrong with Vermont?” Rick asked. It was the perfect place as far as he was concerned.

“Umm, everything.” Lily stretched her magnificent legs out to the side of the table and peered down at her boots. Cringing, she knocked her heels together letting caked mud drop to the floor. “Vermont is no California.”

California, of course. That explained the tan and the fashion. And the disgust for mud.

“Vermont has a lot to offer.” Why did he feel the need to defend his fair state? Why did he want this woman to like Vermont?

“I’m sure, but I’m… high maintenance. Don’t have any real love for flannel or fleece. And don’t get me started about the woods.” She peeled off her coat revealing a fluffy brown sweater that ruffled at the collar and the wrists. Rick had never seen a sweater that fancy.

“The woods are the best part of Vermont,” he said.

“The woods are Hell.”

“I’ll bet I could change your mind about that.” Had he stepped out of his body? Who was this guy, talking to this woman, and actually picturing himself leading her on a hike in the thawing woods?

Lily regarded him for a silent moment, and for once, he didn’t like the quiet. What was she thinking? Probably that I’m the exact opposite of every guy she knows in California.

“No. I’m certain the woods and I don’t mix. Anyway, I’m here about the property, not to discuss the nonexistent finer points of this forgotten realm known as Vermont.” She brushed at her hair again, and the trembling in her hand was still there. Why was she so nervous? “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes, I’ll buy the land from you.” He’d wanted to do that before Gail had constructed her fortress on the property, but he hadn’t had the money then. He had it now thanks to her letting him lease her maple trees and his barn-building business.

“Oh, umm, no. I don’t want to sell the property to you,” Lily said. “I want to sell it to another buyer and buy yours.”

Curious about Rick’s reaction to Lily’s proposition? Download MoreThan Pancakes, Book One in The Maple Leaf Series, for #FREE.    Amazon   Other Retailers  

If you like it, review it. If you don’t like it, read it again. I’m sure you missed something.

And Happy Valentine's Day... you know, if you're into such things. 

Toodles,

Chris 
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

More Than Peaches – Preorder! By Christine DePetrillo

The final book in my Maple Leaf Series releases on April 29! It’s now available for pre-order on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, KOBO, and more!

Grady O’Donnell serves drinks to all who roam into his bar, The Clumsy Grasshopper. His heart had once been filled to the rim with love back home in Ireland, but the Universe shattered that bottle. He’s started over in busy Boston, and he’s happy to mix his business, his painting, and his lazy beagle, Cricket, into a life he can easily swallow. Most of the time.

Lena Clover brightens people’s days in Boston with her natural wares at Clover’s Fruit and Flower Shoppe. She’s been so involved in running her farm and store that she’s let her love life seriously wilt. The only love she gives out is to her silly dog, Snowy. Her business partner wants to help her cultivate that part of her life, but after her last relationship, she’s still not ready to stop and smell the roses with anyone.

Until she meets Grady.

Brought together to work on wedding arrangements for Rachel and Harris, their mutual friends, Grady and Lena have to face the fact that maybe, just maybe, there is a little room to explore the instant attraction blooming between them.

If their plans don’t get weedwhacked, that is.

I have loved sharing this series with readers. This last book may say goodbye to some characters that have become friends to me (and hopefully you too), but not to worry. I have a new cast of characters coming your way in The Shielded Series, a set of tales that take place in Boston, 2025. Genius doctors, badass female cops, missing military brothers, and genetically-engineered castoffs fill the pages of this series which has a sci-fi edge, plenty of hot relationships, and a save-the-world flair that will make you believe true heroes do exist.

And before anyone panics, this series makes stops in Vermont too! For some reason, I just can’t stay away from the woods. They are just full of too many possibilities for story ideas.

I hope you’ll join me on the journey this new series has to offer. I plan to release the first book later this year.

In the meantime, enjoy More Than Peaches and let me know what you think.

Preorder More Than Peaches HERE so it will magically appear on your e-reader on April 29^th. Love grows in the woods!

Toodles,

Chris

The Maple Leaf Series, Book One – More Than Pancakes, always FREE!

Books Two through Five, available now!

Book Six, available for preorder now! April 29^th release!

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Poetry Walks by Christine DePetrillo

I left formal religion to worship nature. I find divinity in all the gifts Mother Nature has shared with us.

I hug trees. Maples are my favorite. They have a great eco-rhythm.

I dig my toes into sun-warmed soil and soak up the Earth’s energy.

I inhale oxygen and marvel over the science of what makes humans live off something colorless and without form.

I run my fingers over flower petals, leaves, stones, caterpillars, loving the unique sensations each bring.

I spread out in the grass, the blades cushioning my body, meshing with my hair, absorbing me into its green.

I am connected to it all, a giant wheel that constantly turns, grows, changes.

Most of the poetry I write is about nature. I spend a ton of time outdoors and frequently find inspiration in what I witness. A tree’s reflection in a pond. A bird’s flight across the sky. A cricket’s nighttime song. It’s all art and music to me, and I try my best to capture it with words so I can share the experience with others.

I took my students on a poetry walk through the outdoor classroom and nature trail we built behind our school. We stopped off to observe one of my poems that was put on a plaque and installed on a regal-looking boulder back there.

Cold Faith

Winter winds

howl their chorus

over frosted lands.

Leafless trees

heavy with snow

dream of budding.

For now,

they wait

as ice imprisons them.

Glassy branches

reach to the gray sky

in silent prayer.

Searching for inspiration, students brought notebooks and wrote down observations. They sat quietly and listened. They got on their hands and knees in the leaves and became part of the woods.

We don’t do that enough. Become part of the outdoors. The health benefits are many. The chances of finding your Muse are abundant as well.

Connecting with a high power in nature is a guarantee.

Students came back into the classroom and composed poems that rocked. Full of imagery and figurative language, they wrote as if fueled by an eternal flame. I hope they always remember that nature is there for them, just waiting to be explored, waiting to help.

Waiting to embrace.

Where will you walk today? What will you find?

Toodles,

Chris

The Maple Leaf Series, Book One – More Than Pancakes, always FREE!

Books Two through Five, available now!

Book Six, available for preorder now! April 29^th release!

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com