Breaking the Rules Tinthia Clemant

Breaking the Rules
Tinthia Clemant
Publication date: April 15th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Love isn’t supposed to hurt.

Hedge witch Shannon Baldos isn’t looking for love. She isn’t even looking for sex. She’s looking for the courage to finally leave her gaslighting husband’s ass. So the last thing she needs is a distraction, like the town’s land-grabbing yet oh so sexy property developer, Adam St. John.

Then again, maybe a little distraction is exactly what she does need.

Growing up under the domineering thumb of her maternal grandmother, and then married to a misogynistic husband, thirty-nine-year-old Shannon Baldos has learned that love hurts. For almost seven years she’s lived under the thumb of her abusive husband, all with the guise of wanting to give her son a stable home. The truth? She’s stayed because she’s a coward. Still is. But maybe, with heart fluttering, groin throbbing, Adam St. John by her side, or on top of her, under works too, she might discover some hidden courage and finally take her son and escape. As for falling for St. John and his pirate grin, not a chance. Rule #1: Don’t fall in love.

Referred to as an emotional train wreck, Wexford’s successful developer, Adam St. John, has rules. A lot of them. Created to keep him well-insulated from further pain and disappointment with regards to life, and love. At forty-nine, he’s quite happy with his life of solitude. With three divorces under his belt, he’s in no hurry to add a fourth. Besides, there are more than enough women willing to keep him warm at night. But when he meets the town’s green-eyed witch with the freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose, and the hips that sway under her flowing skirts, one night of passion leaves him craving more. Maybe it’s time to break a few rules.

In her newest novel, Breaking the Rules, Tinthia Clemant has woven a story about one brave woman’s determination to take back her life as she learns that love doesn’t always hurt.

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Excerpt 

Dee collected the dishes and stacked them at the edge of the table. “No, Peg thinks you should have an affair. I think you should be happy you have someone to take care of you and Chad and call it a day. Life on the outside sucks. I’ve placed enough divorcees in condos in this town to know. They’re all lonely—out drinking and partying; they’re miserable.”

Peg chuckled. “Drinking and partying sounds like fun to me.”

“This isn’t funny, Peg. Shannon will never find someone like Justin again.”

“I hope not,” Shannon replied.

Dee tapped the table with her finger. “Listen, Shannon, I know you don’t believe in God, so I suggest you pray to whoever or whatever you worship. Pray to the trees or a rock for all I care but do not tell Justin you want a divorce. You will be making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Back to my suggestion,” Peg said. “What you need is a hot guy to help smooth the ragged edges. Believe me when I tell you it works.”

Shannon and Dee turned their eyes on Peg. “Do tell?” Shannon asked.

Waving away the question with a flip of her hand, Peg said, “Some other time. Right now we’re discussing you.” Peg nudged Dee. “Do you think he’ll do it?”

“Leave him, and me, out of this. An affair is against the church’s rules.”

“Screw the rules. Guys do it, so why can’t we?” Peg was a woman on a mission. “Pretend for a moment we ask him. Do you think he’ll do it?”

“If a woman is breathing, he’ll sleep with her. However, he has his own rules, and hooking up with Shannon would be breaking the top two. Besides, Shannon is no match for him. She’ll get trampled.” Dee picked up the dishes and slid from the booth.

A quick glance at the front door put a scowl on Dee’s face, and she demanded they drop the entire conversation. She then carried the dishes over to the server’s station where they landed with a crash.

Peg looked at the entrance and clapped her hands like a child at Disneyland. “This is great. You’ll get to finally meet him.”

Dee returned to the booth and pointed at Peg. “This has gone too far, so stop it.”

“You’re a poop.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Shannon tried to stand, but Dee forced her to stay seated.

“We’re not talking about anybody.” Dee grabbed her bag. “Shan, promise me you won’t do anything until we’ve talked about this some more.”

“I promise. Now tell me who you’re talking about.” Shannon half-stood and rested a knee on the seat. “Dee, move. You’re blocking my…oh, my.” The guy shaking hands with Jimbo was vaguely familiar, but his head was angled, so she couldn’t get a good look at his face. However, she liked what she could see. He wasn’t as tall as Jimbo, maybe Justin’s six-foot height, and he had broad shoulders, and an ass worthy of grabbing. “Who is he?”

While he talked, Mr. Hotty ran his hand through his straight, dirty-blond hair. A stray piece fell over his forehead, and a thrill raced through her body as she imagined that very strand hanging over her as he drilled her.

Jimbo leaned across the counter and said something, to which Mr. Hotty laughed, releasing rolling waves that made their way across the room and into her blood. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes but enjoyed the way he rubbed at the scruff on his chin before he spoke, a gesture that elicited a bellow of laughter from the owner of the Beans. She’d be able to endure anything Justin dished out if she had this guy to run to. Maybe an affair wasn’t such a bad idea… Or, a one-night fling? The tanned, defined arms extending out from the rolled-up sleeves looked quite capable of holding her against a door, wall, tree…anything sturdy¾even a dumpster would work.

Jimbo pointed toward their booth, and Mr. Hotty settled on her a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and suddenly a vision of a snowy afternoon opened up in her brain. She was in the car with Chad while Justin walked around the property with the developer who’d built the massive house where they now lived. “No, no, no. Absolutely not.” She sat and folded her arms. “I can’t believe you two thought I would sleep with Adam St. John.”

“I didn’t—it was Peg’s idea,” Dee said. “Anyway, I’m leaving before Miss Blabbermouth makes things worse. I’ll call you tonight.”

Dee walked away. Shannon rose, and Peg joined her. St. John met Dee and gave her a peck on the cheek. It was obvious from the way Dee was waving her hands at the door she was trying to get him back outside. And from the way he was shaking his head, he wasn’t having any part of it. He nodded toward the table and hooked his hand under her elbow.

As they walked in her direction, Shannon held her lip between her teeth and gripped Peg’s forearm. St. John had a deliberate way of walking, not quite a swagger but a movement that said he was confident in himself. His eyes held her in place. If she’d wanted to look away, she wouldn’t have been able to, his pull that strong. But who said she wanted to look away? Sure, the guy was a land-grabber, but he certainly had a way of getting the old heart pumping and the juices flowing, especially to her groin.

“You’re drooling,” Peg chided.

“I am not.” Shannon released Peg. “I admit he’s smoking hot, but he’s still Adam St. John.” She met Peg’s satisfied-looking grin. “He’s a jerk, and I already have one of those, thank you very much.”

Peg gave Shannon a hip bump. “Never believe gossip, especially Dee’s gossip. Adam’s a sweetheart. Besides, I’m not suggesting you fall in love. Just use him when things at home get out of whack. Think about it. I’ll be right back.” She added a pat to Shannon’s shoulder and joined Dee and St. John.

Shannon sat with her back to the trio. In a matter of seconds, she’d officially meet Wexford’s developer extraordinaire. Even if she did sleep with him, which she shouldn’t…wouldn’t…what did they have in common? She was a hedge witch, and him… well, to him, the only good tree was one in the shape of a two-by-four. But then again, if he was as good in bed as he looked like he might be, there wouldn’t be a need for conversation. No, she sighed, she couldn’t sleep with him, and besides, he probably had a tiny penis. That was why he built such huge houses; he used them to compensate for his pitiful manhood.

By the time she’d chased her thoughts like a dog chasing its tail, the trio had moved to the table’s edge, continuing their exchange above her head: Peg asked St. John if he was dating anyone, and Dee told Peg to stop and insisted they didn’t have time for chitchat. St. John stated he hadn’t met their friend, and Dee doubly insisted he and she needed to leave.

While they talked, Shannon kept her eyes on the inky liquid in her mug. She tried to calm her frantic heart rhythm by counting her breaths, but St. John’s scent distracted her. A tanned, strong-looking hand extended under her eyes, and she sucked in her breath. He had a great hand. Rugged looking. Not too big. Fingers perfectly shaped for delivering mind-blowing pleasure.

“We haven’t met. I’m Adam St. John, but most people call me St. John.”

His voice, smooth and fluid like melted chocolate, flowed under her skin and into her core.

She opened her water and let her eyes follow the length of his arm up to his face where she met a lopsided grin that reached the corners of his eyes, the weathered skin crinkling along the edges. In another life, he’d have owned a pirate ship. And she would have gladly been his wench.

She placed her hand in his and jolted at the charge that shot through her, understanding perfectly why so many women fell to their knees when they met him.

Dee shoved St. John. “Okay, you’ve met Shannon. Let’s go.”

St. John kept hold of Shannon’s hand. “What’s the hurry? If nobody has to leave, I’d like some coffee.”

“Fine with me,” Peg said and reclaimed her seat. “Adam, Dee’s sitting next to me, so you sit next to Shannon.”

Dee flashed Peg a look that said she’d deal with Peg later, to which Peg shrugged and smiled.

“Fine,” Dee said. “One cup, but St. John, you sit here.” Dee tugged on St. John’s arm, trying to direct him into her spot.

St. John claimed the end of Shannon’s side of the booth. “Too slow, Denise, and relax. I’m not going to eat the poor woman.” He turned his attention to Shannon and grinned again. “At least not right now.”

Shannon met his eyes. She imagined she was wearing a seductive hint of a smile, alluring and coquettish. Unfortunately, the muscles around her mouth announced her lips were open too wide. She was saved from further looking like a fool when Dee’s arm shot across the table. “Okay, stop the bus. Back off, St. John. Shannon’s married.”

Peg pulled at Dee’s back pocket. “You’re making a scene.”

St. John didn’t seem to hear Dee because he remained facing Shannon. “Who’s your husband? I might know him.”

Shannon’s lower lip disappeared between her teeth. She couldn’t answer. She was too busy drinking in his aroma. White musk, cedar, a hint of pine. Earthy and intoxicating. And body melting. She felt like a marshmallow suddenly dropped into a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

“She’s married to Justin Baldos. So leave her alone,” Dee said.

“Baldos?” St. John scratched the gray-and-brown scruff on his chin and seemed to consider the information. “That’s a shame.” He added the last part as if he was disappointed.

Shannon found her voice. “Why is that?” She had no idea why he thought her marriage to Justin was a shame, but she could offer a few reasons for him to consider, starting with the fact that Justin sucked. She did, however, enjoy thinking St. John might be disappointed to learn she was married. Maybe he’d wanted to play pirate and wench too.

“He didn’t mean anything,” Dee said. “St. John, weren’t you going to get us more coffee? We have to be in Salem soon.”

“I have a class too, so please hurry up, Adam,” Peg said. “Make mine an iced hazelnut.”

“Mine too,” Dee added.

“And what would you like me to give you, Shannon?”

“For crying out loud, St. John, stop it,” Dee demanded. “She’ll have the same as us. Now go.”

“I’m on it.” St. John hopped from the booth, but before walking away, he leaned in close to Shannon’s ear and murmured, “Save my spot.”

When he pulled away, the hot area of her face rapidly cooled, leaving her wanting more.

He needn’t worry. She would save him any damn spot he desired.

 

Author Bio:

Tinthia Clemant was born in Medford, Massachusetts, over sixty years ago. Her childhood was a happy one. She lived in a loving home with her three siblings, mother and father. Her imagination soared as she passed the days enacting the scenes from the stories that spun through her mind.

Tinthia always wrote. From the time she first picked up a pencil, or perhaps it was a crayon, she wrote. Stories about searching for secrets. Stories about joy and sadness; friendship and betrayal; and, of course, stories about true love.

She self-published her first book by stapling six pages together. Her marketing plan was simple–give the book to her mother for Mother’s Day. Marketing her indie-published books has gotten a whole lot harder but she pushes on, knowing the worlds she creates will take each reader on a magical journey.

A romantic women’s fiction author, Tinthia fell in love with romance when she witnessed, at the impressionable age of five, the power of true love. On the silver screen of the Meadow Glen drive-in, she watched Prince Phillip defeat Maleficent’s tangled web of thorns and the fire-breathing dragon so he could save his lady love. As Phillip pressed his lips against Sleeping Beauty’s, she understood the power of true love’s first kiss.

As a hopeful romantic, Tinthia has searched far and wide for that special someone who will take her breath away. Unfortunately, she has yet to find love’s magical kiss. However, she learned a lot about herself along the way and uses these lessons to weave her stories and the strong (and older) heroines she brings to life.

Tinthia lives on the banks of the Concord River and spends her time teaching science at a local community college, gardening, painting, tending her flock of Mallards (follow her natural history blog at: concordriverlady.com), reading, and, of course, writing about journeys, disappointment, joy, and true love. Her two favorite men are Ben and Jerry and she wishes they would bring back the summer flavor, Blueberry Cheesecake.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Pinterest / YouTube / Blog

 

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Shore Balance by Enrique Rosado

Shore Balance

by Enrique Rosado

Genre: YA Contemporary fantasy

Release date: April 2nd 2019

Summary:

Lahar and Arena have a shot to make it back home, but it comes with a price. Now they must balance Lahar’s magic lessons, getting back home, and the hunt for the magical items that control reality known as the “Balances.” Arena and Lahar are tested as dark secrets will reveal themselves and Void, the monster who lives below the sand, makes his final move.

 
 
 
 
 
 

Buy on Amazon!

 
Book One:
Shore by Enrique Rosado
 
Summary:Lahar’s life was regular- college, work, then binge watch whatever was in her queue. That was until she woke up in a new land. She meets a young wizard named Arena, who has made a home on the beach. With the help of his massive dog and mystical creatures called wisps, she must find a way back home while she fights the forces of a monster who lives among them. Join this Fantasy adventure, with new creatures to see and adventures to be had.

“4.5/5 Stars … a truly quirky and unique read that will be a new favorite for fantasy lovers.” – San Francisco Book Review

“A parade of whimsical elements reminiscent of early, dreamlike video games” – Kirkus Review

 
Buy on Amazon!
 
Excerpt:
 
How Did I Get Here?
A soft
flamingo print duvet cocoons her. The wind blows, gently tickling her nose. She
hides under the duvet, trying her best to stay asleep and avoid the
responsibilities she pushed off until today. Then, a thought gnaws at her head
like a tick.
        Her bedroom
smells of half-eaten pizza, and a laundry basket that is in a desperate need of
emptying. No windows for the sunlight to shine through, freezing temperatures,
and she is sure she left the T.V. on while marathoning a doctor show last
night.
        Why does she
feel the warm sunlight and coolness of the wind? She lowers the duvet and peers
her head out. This isn’t her apartment. No, instead she is in the middle of a
field, under the shade of an unnaturally enormous tree.
She tries not to freak out, but to no avail. Her heartbeat is
rapid and her breathing shallow. She finds some comfort in the fact that she is
still in her bed. She wipes the crust off her hazel eyes and examines her
caramel skin on both arms for any marks, bruises, or scratches. They both are
blemish-free.
She sits up while taking a deep breath, then proceeds to smack
her own face. The stinging sensation on her cheek confirms her worst fear, that
this isn’t a dream. The vibrant green grass tickles her feet as she stands up.
She looks at her stained shirt with “Do Not Disturb” written on it.
A few steps away from the bed, she looks back to stare at her
bed. A vibrant colored leaf from the tree falls onto her pillow. The trunk of
the tree is twisted in a strange, yet appealing, way. Each leaf is a different
color; each is vibrant and full of life.
She turns to face the vast field surrounding her. There is no
sign of civilization, or any life close by. After a few seconds of hesitation,
she starts to walk forward. The warm sunlight hits her skin as her legs weaken.
Fear coils inside her mind while thoughts ricochet around. Where is she? How
did she even get here? Then a sharp stench hits her nose.
The rancid smell fills her nostrils as she searches for the
source. Then it dawns on her. She raises her shirt to sniff the fabric. She
gags as she finds the source of the smell. The woman can’t recall the last time
she washed this shirt, fearing it teeters past a week.
She didn’t have a reason to leave her room. Most of her
assignments in college courses were either finished or far from their due
dates. Not to mention most of her classes were online.
Her parents lived at least five towns away. All of her friends
were caught up in their jobs or buried in their own projects. Most of the time,
they would head to her place anyway. She can’t even remember the last time she
left her apartment for non-school-related purposes.
She lets herself get lost in her thoughts as she wanders the
field for what she thinks is hours, until a new scent hits her nose. It is soft
and salty, with a crashing noise to accompany the smell.
 It takes her a few seconds to recognize the familiar
feelings. “The beach!” She blurts out in excitement. Her feet pound the grass;
dirt is flung in the air as she sprints down the field.
If she finds a beach, she may find people. There are always
people at the beach this close to the summer. Her heart pounds like a cannon,
but her breathing is under control. She stops running when she no longer
feels the crunch of grass and starts to feel the burning sensation of sand
between her toes.
Her eyes begin to survey the land. The beach stretches with no
end on either side. The sand glimmers with their beauty. The ocean waters are
the clearest she has ever seen. All of this, but no sign of anyone around.
Her heart plummets into her stomach. Her eyes glance at the
ocean as she walks down the beach. The waves crash down upon the sand, with
droplets hitting her. The sea foam hits her feet and recedes back into the
ocean. The sudden chill sends shivers down her spine. Suddenly, a figure comes
into view.
Her eyes squint as she makes out what is on the beach. It’s
someone lying down. A sudden rush of energy fills her as she runs down the
beach screaming. “Hey, hello!” Then she stops dead in her tracks. Who is this
person? They could be a murderer, crazed psychopath, or even the person who
brought her here.
Then, a new thought rolls in her head. The person didn’t move
after being yelled at; they are still lying on their back. Carefully, she walks
up to the person. “Excuse me, are you alive?” She says calmly while moving
close enough to make out the figure.
     He is a man with fair skin. The
sides of his head are shaven clean, and the remaining espresso brown hair is in
the style of a Mohawk. She guesses he is either 21 or 22 years old, two years
younger than her. She crouches down close to the man. Usually, she wouldn’t be
this close to a stranger, offering them their own personal space, but this is
not a typical situation.
With her index finger, she pokes the man’s cheek. It feels warm.
His chest moves up and down while he lies there. With this, she can tell the
man is alive and starts to shake his shoulder as she softly speaks. “I am sorry
to wake you, but this is an emergency.”
The man eyes slowly start to open, revealing a shade of blue
that matches the ocean he lays next to. “I know it is rude to wake someone
sleeping, but I am desperate here. You see, I am lost right now.” The man snaps
out of his daze to see the woman in front of him.
His hand slams into the sand as he quickly utters some words
that the woman doesn’t recognize. As he jumps back, a cluster of squid
tentacles made of sand rise around her. They wrap around each other and harden
to stone, trapping her in a cage.
A scream of uncertainty and fear escapes her mouth. This is it,
the edge. She must have plunged off the deep end. There is no way this is real.
She reaches out to feel the rough yet warm stone cage trapping her. Her sight
now on the man standing in front of her. He is almost as scared as she is. His
eyes, she could have sworn they were blue a second ago, not this crimson red.
He steps closer to the cage as he asks, “Who are you?”
 


 



About the Author

I’m Enrique Rosado, a Puerto Rican who grew up on the island for a bit before landing in Killeen, Texas, a town that cultivated me and made me who I am today. Now I find myself in New York City writing any chance I get.














Social links

 

 

 

Website: erosado.com   Instagram: @thisonefellow   Amazon link