Lisa Scott's Blog

I’m busy working Magic Flirts! which should be out this summer. Here’s a sample of the first story, Hex Addict. Enjoy!

Hex Addict

Vicky Valentino snagged a stool at the bar and ordered a drink. It was the perfect night for love: a full moon, a crowded room, a tingle in her tummy. That feeling usually meant something amazing was going to happen.

She didn’t always hit bars looking for couples to cast her love spells upon. But like it or not, that’s where most of her matches were made. Some might think a bar was a place for desperate souls, or those who just wanted a fling. But she’d made most of her true blue love matches in bars and taverns and night clubs across Boston. Her family had been doing it for generations in old pubs and church socials, with mixtures of herbs and potions and spells. But modern technology rocked. There was nothing like programming a spell into your wand. It was accurate and fast and fun.

Vicky looked around the bar for a potential match. Sometimes she snuck into a wedding reception to do her work. People always seemed to have love on their mind there: Will I ever find it? Do I want to find it? Is that dark-haired hottie across the room looking at me? High school reunions were good possibilities, too. Once in a while it would happen somewhere unexpected, like on the subway or right on the street. But there was nothing like a good old fashioned bar to help the right people fall in love.

Vicky sipped a cocktail as she surveyed the room. She’d ordered a virgin daiquiri so she could think straight. She wasn’t a messy matchmaker. She was dealing with people’s lives, after all. With the divorce rate among humans at fifty percent, she had to be careful. AHA—the Agency for Human Advancement—worked to improve lives for humans, not mess things up. Some in the witching world scoffed at what she did, but she took great pride in helping people find happiness. Besides, a botched spell would mean a visit from the Council and give them one more reason to state their case that witches shouldn’t meddle with human affairs. Like Drake Vanderly. As mean as he was handsome, he was an enforcer who seemed to enjoy tracing a caster’s every move, hoping to find a misstep. Even though she’d never left him a mess to clean up, the two of them had gotten into plenty of arguments.

“It’s not meddling, it’s assistance,” she always liked to tell him. “It’s charity work, really.”

His dark eyes would narrow. “It’s none of our business. The less attention we draw from the humans, the better. Remember a little thing called Salem?” He always harped on and on about the Salem witch trials.

“Those people weren’t even witches!” she’d say.

“Exactly. But look what happened when humans thought they were. Let Cupid deal with humans and their love.”

“There’s not enough of them to make a difference,” she’d say.

“And one busy body witch such as yourself is going to make a difference?” he’d ask.

“There are dozens of us working as matchmakers, and I’ve helped more than two hundred couples fall in love, so I think I’m making a difference.”

Their arguments would go on and on like that until the two of them would eventually storm off until their next fight.

It was true, though. Cupid provided a similar service. Occasionally when she was out working, she’d bump into a member from Cupid’s crew. At least they valued help from the witch matchmakers. And frankly, the humans should appreciate it most of all. She’d much rather be hit be a spell from a wand than an arrow from a bow. The humans didn’t remember the sharp prick of love delivered by cupid, but it certainly hurt when it happened. She’d seen it before.

But cupid wasn’t here tonight. The bar was packed, so she was hopeful for some soul-mate action. Two people kissing in the corner caught her eye, but they didn’t have a blue hue around them that would suggest a potential love match. Their hue was red hot lust. Some matchmakers would try to force it anyway, but not Vicky. She only wanted to handle true blue love. “No future there,” she mumbled to herself, frowning at the couple.

“Why do you have to work tonight?” her friend Grace whined behind her.

“I took an extra shift,” Vicky explained.

“So dedicated,” Kat said, teasing her.

Her friends Kat and Grace were matchmakers, too. They were off duty, but since they all planned to hit the bars in the magic district later, they were tagging along while she worked. Yep, bars were popular matchmaking grounds for witches, too. Not that Vicky had time or interest for finding love for herself. She’d tried before, but it was hard to find a good witch. So many of them hid their true selves with spells and enchantments. You never knew what you were really meeting. It all seemed so much easier for humans who couldn’t hide behind anything more than makeup or clothes.

One guy Vicky had dated appeared to be tall and well built with wavy blond hair, always ready with a funny joke or comment. After a few dates, she discovered he was one-hundred-twenty-something years old, hunched over and grizzled, with a joke writer feeding him lines.

Another guy had turned out to be a twelve year old with very advanced charm skills. Luckily, before things had progressed to the kissing stage, his height charm wore off and he shrunk before her eyes. Honestly, sometimes she thought she should provide matchmaking services for the witching world, instead. But love spells were forbidden in their world. So, it was very hard to meet the right witch. That was probably one of the reasons she loved her job so much.

Vicky scanned the hues of all the people in the room. Only people ready for true love were surrounded by blue hues. Sometimes people who didn’t think they were looking for love had the hue; many of the people who were looking for love didn’t. She’d seen a lot of heartbroken people surrounded by the healing hue of yellow as their hearts mended. Nothing she could do to help them no matter how much they wanted love. But when she found a true blue, it was her mission to guide that person to another blue.

She noticed a handsome man sitting at the bar, turning his glass round and round as he stared across the room. There was a pale blue hue around him. Vicky’s heart kicked up a notch. If she could find someone else in the bar surrounded with a hue that same shade of blue, she had a potential match. Her throat tightened just thinking about it. Casting a soul mate spell had a certain effect on a witch.

She followed his gaze and spotted the cute brunette he was checking out. Vicky sucked in a breath. Her blue hue was very similar to his. But the woman hadn’t noticed him. Sometimes, people with matching blues would find each other. Usually though, they needed a little help from her.

“Girls, get ready to feel the love because I just found two true blues.” Vicky hopped off the barstool and pulled her wand out of her purse, ready to conjure her strongest love spell. She turned around, looking for her friends. It wasn’t everyday a girl found two potential soul mates. Kat and Grace would want to see this, and she couldn’t wait to feel that rush she got every time she made a match. She tipped up on her toes, scanning the bar for her friends. A frown creased her face when she spotted the tall, dark-haired witch at the door, watching her.

She groaned. It was Drake Vanderly. Talk about killing the mood.

Smiling, Drake pushed off the wall and came toward her. “Busy meddling with the humans again?”

Vicky ignored him and programmed the spell into her wand disguised as a cell phone. Here we go again. “It’s charity work, Drake.” She had to shout over the racket in the bar. How any humans hooked up without her help in a place like this was beyond her imagination.

“It’s a mess waiting to happen, one that I’m just going to have to clean up when it goes bust.” He crossed his arms, biceps bulging.

Those have got to be fake, she thought. Probably had access to the best spell makers in town to get a body like his. “I don’t make mistakes.”

“Your time could be better spent elsewhere. Why not let cupid’s workers handle this? They train for this sort of thing.”

“So do we. And cupid’s angels can’t be everywhere. You know why we casters do what we do.” She glared at him, and let her eyes flash yellow.

He flashed an orange color right back at her. “I know why the agency tries to get humans to fall in love. Saving the planet and all that. But why do you do it? It’s been six years, you’ve broken all the matchmaking records. Most people would move onto something more challenging. Or less challenging, like management. Yet here you still are. Casting hexes.”

“They’re love spells, not hexes.” Vicky flipped her long, blond hair over her shoulder. “And here’s a better question: don’t you have anything better to do than check up on me? Like you said, I’m the top matchmaker. I don’t need supervision.”

“It’s true, I don’t have to fix too many mismatches from you.”

“You don’t have to fix any of my spells. I’ve never had a mismatch,” she clarified.

“But still, you do enjoy the hunt more than any of the others.” He took a step closer to her. “And I want to know why. Don’t worry, I’m here out of personal curiosity, not professional.” His voice was deep, and he talked slowly, like he meant to force someone to listen to him longer than they’d like.

Sadly, she’d probably be dreaming of his voice later that night. Drake might be a total pain in her broom, but he was a gorgeous annoyance. And now he was tailing her?

At five foot eleven, she was only a few inches shorter than him, making it all that much easier to shoot him a nasty glare. She tipped up her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Desperate times. The humans need as much love in their world as they can manage. I like thinking I’ve made a difference.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s why you do it.”

Panicked, she almost dropped her wand. Does he know the real reason why?

Office pranks, secret affairs, happy hours, and even blackmail! I’m having fun working on Office Flirts and wanted to share a quick snippet from the beginning of the first story. I’m hoping to have this out by the end of November at the latest. (While you wait for that, it’s a good time to pick up Holiday Flirts or read it again! It begins on Halloween and ends on Valentine’s Day, so tis the season.)

Funny Little Thing (short story #1 from Office Flirts!)

I was working on my 360th balloon when Chuck ran into the office. “Jenny, hurry—he’s coming!”

I nodded as I blew. My cheeks hurt so much from filling all those balloons, I probably couldn’t have answered, anyway. I tied the last one and shoved it in the office, then shut the door. The blinds were closed, so Joseph would have no clue I’d just pranked his new office until he stepped inside. If he could even squeeze in, that is. I chuckled to myself. A few weeks earlier, he’d covered my entire cubicle in tinfoil, so he had this coming.

The moment news got out that one of the art directors was leaving, Joseph had claimed her soon-to-be-empty office. It was out of sight from our boss Lillian’s suite which was a plus, but that also meant you never saw her coming. Joseph was willing to take that chance. He’d be moving his stuff in later that afternoon so that the new art director starting the next day couldn’t take it.

I scooted over to the reception desk to pretend I was talking to Joy. She wasn’t as big a prankster as we were, but she enjoyed our antics, sometimes playing a supporting role as needed—so long as there was no threat to her clothing or carefully curled hair.

“Don’t you look cute today?” Her upper lip curled, as she surveyed my yoga pants and t-shirt.

“I’ve been here since five this morning. I dressed for comfort, not style.”

“Isn’t that what you do every day?” Joy always dressed like she was on her way to a fashion show where they relied on audience members for backup in the event a model fainted from hunger and toppled off the runway. From Joy’s desk, she had a view of the modeling agency across the hall, and I think she was convinced they were going to spot her one day and plop her in a makeup ad. Otherwise, I had no idea why she wore so much of it. I used mascara and sometimes lipgloss if I could find it in my purse. That was a big if.

But she was correct. I did dress for comfort. When you’re shaped like an apple, there’s no use spending a fortune on stuff that won’t fit right anyway. Besides, I didn’t need fancy clothes—I had “such a pretty smile.” I’d heard that one dozens of times when people couldn’t think of anything else nice to say. Maybe that’s why I was joking around all the time—to show off my smile. No one ever said what a cute belly you have.

I did get compliments on my hair, though. I was probably the only girl in the world with curly hair who didn’t wish it were straight. I loved my long, dark curls. I could thank the women on my mother’s side of the family for that. But they’d been turning out thick-figured women for generations, so they were responsible for that feature, too.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and I bit my lip. Joy was still chatting about hairspray—or maybe it was conditioner, I don’t know—when the door swung open. Joseph walked in, with a handsome sandy-haired guy. Must be a client. My heart quickened. Clients usually didn’t have a sense of humor, I’d discovered, after once replacing Chuck’s hand sanitizer with lubricating jelly before an important meeting.

Hi! Hope you’re having a great summer. The 8th volume of Flirts! is now available on Amazon and BN.com. Fairy Tale Flirts 2! 5 Romantic Short Stories features modern takes on Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid, and Rumpelstiltskin. It will be available soon on itunes. (You can always purchase any format on smashwords.com.) If you enjoy Fairy Tale Flirts 2! please consider leaving a review. It’s always appreciated and helpful for other readers. Look for Office Flirts! in fall 2013.

Interested in being part of the Flirts! street team? I’m looking for readers who love Flirts! and love telling people about books they enjoy. I’m going to hook up a few people with Flirts! swag to pass out to prospective readers. So if spreading the word about products and books you love is the kind of thing you like to do, (and I know it’s not for everyone!) drop me an email through the contact page.

Thanks so much and happy reading! Lisa

Bn.com link:

Amazon link:

If you have tried the first novel in my Willowdale Romance series, today’s the day to do it!  It’s marked down to $1.99 on amazon for their Kindle Romance Daily Deal.  Happy reading and let me know what you think!

I’m finishing final edits on novel #2 in the Willowdale Series, Man of the Month, and I was happy to still find myself laughing and crying over something I’d written, and reread dozens of times.   Always a good sign.

I remember the moment I got the idea for this story.  My gorgeous friend, let’s call her Georgianna, has inspired many of my stories: The Hot Girl’s Friend (she being the hot girl), Never Been Dumped, and a few others I have in the works.  After one phone call when she was feeling particularly down in the single-girl dumps, I proposed a fantastic idea.  I’d set her up with a different guy every month. She agreed, and I found a guy for her the very next day at a rock quarry of all places, where I was on a rock hunt with the local geological society.  (I dig rocks, what can I say?)  The introduction did not lead to a date, but I tried again, directing a cute local DJ her way.  Again, nothing.  The plan fizzled out.  But it gave me a great story idea about a woman doing the same thing for her friend as a New Year’s resolution—Man of the Month.

Somewhere on my laptop exists the single page of the story I wrote before realizing there wasn’t a lot of conflict when a friend finds guys for another friend.  And I thought about how horrible it would be if you were in love with the person trying to set you up with someone else.  And how equally crappy it would be if you were the one finding dates for the woman of your dreams because the two of you couldn’t be together (for some believable reason I had yet to determine.)

And that’s how Man of the Month was born.  This is Jeanne and Brad’s story, two people kept apart by a tragic moment in the past who realize they can’t ever be more than friends—even though they’re both madly in love with each other.  It’ll be released by Bell Bridge Books at the end of this month.  (Mr. March in the book is a doozy, by the way.)  Here’s an excerpt from the book.

Man of the Month

By Lisa Scott

Chapter 1

            Jeanne’s champagne sloshed over her glass as she tried to find it with her lips. Lordy, was this her third… or fifth? She’d never been much of a drinker, but it was the only way she was going to get through this night. Either that or one of her pecan praline pies. Not just a nibble, either—the whole dang thing. In the end, the champagne would do less damage to her hips, so here she was drowning in the bubbly.

Aiming for her mouth again, the flute disappeared when someone plucked it from her sticky fingertips. “Hey!” she protested, grasping at the air.

Brad towered over her, frowning as he snatched the glass. “Jeanne, what’s gotten into you? Tonight of all nights?” A few people turned to stare.

She hiccupped. Covering her mouth, she shot Brad her nastiest glare, but ugh! The man was handsome even when he was mad, with those chiseled cheekbones and that pitch-black hair falling in his eyes. “Shoot, Brad!” She stamped her stiletto and wobbled, grabbing his arm for balance. Her hand locked onto rock-hard muscle and she nearly whimpered.

Instead, she lied. “I need that drink to ring in the New Year. I’m fine!” she shouted over the music and laughter at the party and plastered on a great big smile. Seemed like everyone in Willowdale, North Carolina, had turned out for the bash, even Chester Miller. He hadn’t left his house since 1998, and here he was chasing the old Mercer twins around the living room—and they were enjoying it! Was she the only one here faking the fun?

Brad’s stern look disappeared and out came a smile that could blind the sun. “You don’t need any more, not tonight. Now, get over here, girl. The ball’s dropping.” He linked his fingers with hers, pulling her through the crowd until they had a good view of Times Square on the giant flat-screen TV. Couples bunched up together in the crowd, preparing for the countdown. Brad snaked his arm around her waist, his thumb stroking her black satin dress. The warm feeling coursing through her body had nothing to do with all those glasses of pink bubbly.

They counted down together. “Three… two… one!” Horns blared, confetti flew, and it felt like a slow-motion movie scene. She turned to him, locking her eyes on his, bright blue and smoldering under a lock of hair. His eyebrow hitched while his mouth formed a perfect pucker. A shiver shimmied down her spine then back up again. With a swipe of her tongue across her lips, she sucked in a breath, closed her eyes—

And Brad planted a big kiss on her cheek. “Happy New Year, kiddo,” he whispered in her ear.

Her heart sank faster than the ball they’d just watched, just like it did every time she realized her perfect guy could never be more than a friend. Dang. She swallowed back the sob crawling up her throat. Didn’t go down as easy without the champagne.

She forced a smile. “Happy New Year, Bradley.” Then she grabbed her glass, slurped the last of her drink, and pushed away from him. Stumbling through the crowd, she made her way toward the back deck of her friend Kate’s enormous house. The damn place was probably bigger than the Smart Mart over in Whitesville.

After indulging a few of the regulars from the Jelly Jar diner with celebratory hugs and kisses, she finally slipped outside, relieved to drop the fake smile. Pulling her wrap tight around her bare shoulders, she leaned against the railing and let out the tears she’d been holding back. The champagne glass slipped from her grasp and crashed onto the patio below. That only made her cry harder—like she needed more proof she really didn’t have a grip on things and hadn’t for a long time.

Jeanne sniffed and her bottom lip wobbled like a bumper threatening to fall off an old truck. She wasn’t one to fall apart all pretty. When she crumbled, she was a downright mess.

Soft, downy flakes fell from the sky, tickling her nose. She brushed them away like gnats. That damn kiss on the cheek shouldn’t have been a surprise. She’d known for a few years now that Brad would always be just a friend, for several very good reasons. And now that they were business partners, becoming a couple would be as stupid as topping their famous rum pound cake with hot bacon drippings. Normally, she could deal with it. Just tuck away that painful longing like a brochure for a month-long cruise you could never afford to take but still liked to dream about.

Guess something about the promise of new starts and a new year and maybe all that champagne brought hope rising up inside her. Only to be popped like a silly soap bubble. Of course, the bad memories from that New Year’s Eve so long ago chased away the good feelings, too. She sucked in a shock of cold night air and shivered.

Folding her arms on the railing, she rested her chin on top. She shouldn’t have come to this party. She should have volunteered to babysit so her sister, Becca, could’ve gone out. Little Emma was just three months old and the most beautiful thing Jeanne had ever seen. That was weighing heavy on her heart, too, reminding her how badly she wanted to be a mama. To have the perfect family she’d never had, and how unlikely that was going to happen anytime soon.

The deck door slid open and the sounds of music and laughter spilled out. She stood up and pressed her fingers under her eyes to catch any dribbles of mascara. Was she the only person in the world sobbing in the New Year? Taking a deep breath, she turned to see who was coming outside. Please don’t be Kate or Tonya. Didn’t know if she had the strength to lie to her friends about what was wrong. They could sniff out a fib faster than Doc Louie’s bloodhounds.

“Why’d you rush out here?” Brad asked.

Dang, worse than Kate or Tonya, Jeanne thought as she turned away. “Guess I don’t feel like celebrating tonight.”

“Sure looked like you were having fun.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s freezing out here.” He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His fingers grazed her arms and she felt goose bumps answering his touch.

His big, warm body pressed up next to hers and he planted his elbows on the railing as he looked out over the yard and the pool tucked away for the winter. “This night’s hard for me too, Jeanne. Eighteen years is a long time, but still… It hurts, I know.”

She shook her head and shrugged off the idea. She didn’t break down like this every year. Why this one? “No. That’s not it. Your mother died that night too, and you’re not out here crying.”

Brad winced and closed his mouth. He was quiet for a spell. “You still upset we didn’t land the catering gig for the Willowdale New Year’s Bash? You know Kate threw this party just to hand us a catering gig, right? Not a bad consolation prize.”

She nodded. “I know. Kate’s a great friend and the New Year’s Bash was a long shot. We’re not ready for that yet.”

He leaned into her, his breath hot on her cheek. “Cheer up, kiddo. It’s a new year. I’ll make you a batch of those rum balls you love so much to start it off right.” He frowned. “Nothing with alcohol for you. How about chocolate silk pie? You love my chocolate silk pie.”

She loved his everything. “No, thanks.”

“Damn. You turned down pie. You are upset.” He nudged her with his elbow. “You pouting ’cause I took away your drink? You’re a lightweight and you know it. I’ve gotta look out for you.”

Shaking her head, she sucked in a deep breath. “I’m pouting because… I’m lonely.” She sniffed, her emotions ready to tumble out like a bunch of peaches in those flimsy paper bags the Save More uses. “I’m sick of being single. I want a family.”

He looked up at the sky and let out a long sigh. “How can you even think about romance when we just launched Elegant Eats I sure don’t have time for dating. What makes you think you would?”

She lifted a shoulder, a strand of hair tickling her skin. “I’d make time. The alarm on my biological clock is blaring.” Cue the dramatic eye roll. “Never mind. I forgot—you don’t have one of those timers.” The champagne had loosened her tongue more than she realized. Things always got ugly when their talk turned to babies.

Here’s a little sample of the first story from Reunion Flirts!  This is story #1, Second Chances.  I’m shooting for a February 14th release.  Enjoy!

“Second Chances”

             Brandi Parkman pounded her beer bottle on the bar like a gavel.  “Here, here, the first meeting of the Jefferson High tenth reunion committee is now in order.”

The three other women surrounding her held their drinks up in a cheer.

Then Chelsea Hallman frowned. “Remind me again why we aren’t just setting this up on the internet?”

Brandi jabbed a finger into Chelsea’s arm.  “Because, this way I can poke you in person, not just on facebook.  When’s the last time we’ve seen each other? We can make a party out of it.”

Chelsea shifted on the barstool, wondering if they’d forgive her if she made a desperate dash for the door.  Probably not. She set her elbow on the bar and slouched. “I never would’ve run for class secretary had I known all of us in student government would be planning class reunions for the rest of our lives.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to it?” Cathy Blake asked.  “Don’t you want to see everyone?”

Oh, Chelsea wanted to see everyone, all right.  Everyone but one person:  Tripp McCall. She forced a smile.  “Of course I want to see everyone.  But I’m not even sure I can come.  I think we have a family reunion that weekend.”

Brandi gave Chelsea a look.  “How could that be? We haven’t even settled on a weekend yet.”

“I just mean, chances are it will fall on the same weekend.”  Chelsea downed the rest of her drink.  Bottom line, if Tripp McCall was coming, she wasn’t.  But there was a very good chance Tripp would be too busy running his empire to make it to their rinky-dink reunion.

“Speaking of dates, we can put up a poll on our facebook reunion page and let classmates vote on the best weekend,” Brandi said.  “And we’ll let everyone decide where to have it, and give them three locations to choose from.”

“Then the real work begins, picking the menu, the band—” Cathy said.

Alyssa White laughed.  “We won’t be able to afford a band.  We have to keep ticket prices down, the way the economy is. Fifty-fifty raffles only go so far. We’ll just get someone to put together a mix on their ipod.”

Brandi waved a dismissive hand.  “That’s all logistical stuff that’ll take care of itself.  The key to a good reunion is getting the right people there.  We need to create a list of must-come alumni.  And I know who’s top on the list—Tripp McCall.”

Chelsea bit her tongue.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Brandi, he’s not going to come back to Boston. He’s running like, a gajillion dollar company.  Isn’t he dating a model?  That’s gotta keep him busy, all the sex they’re probably having on tropical islands.”

Chelsea stifled a groan.

“No, I read that they broke up,” Brandi said.  “He’s single.  We could probably get every girl in the class to come if they know Tripp will be there.”

“He was class clown,” Cathy said.  “How in the hell did he turn out so successful?  I wonder if he has a secret twin.”  She tapped a finger on her chin, thoughtfully.

“He doesn’t have a twin,” Chelsea said.  She’d spent enough time at his house to know if they’d been hiding a savant brother in the basement.

“Oh, yeah.  You two went out, didn’t you?”  Brandi asked, looping her hands around her knees.  “You dumped him, right?”

How wonderful to still have a frenemy after all these years. They all knew the whole story by heart.  No one needed a rehash, but everyone was watching Chelsea expectantly.  The only thing worse than not having a multi-millionaire boyfriend was having had him—and lost him.  That’s a tale people wanted to hear again and again. Who wouldn’t feel better about their own sorry life after hearing that?  Chelsea tried to sound chipper.  “Ten months.  It wasn’t really serious.”

“Still, imagine if you’d stayed together,” Brandi said, looking up at the ceiling dreamily.  “You’d probably be on his private jet to go shopping in Dubai right now, or polishing your gems. Someone would probably be massaging you.”  Brandi nodded.  “I’m sure you’d have your own personal masseuse.”  She ran her finger down the condensation of her beer bottle.  “Of course, I had him first.  He kissed me in second grade.”

No, I’m not penning a song about Dr. Who, or a ballad to quantum physics.  I’m still working on Reunion Flirts! featuring a group of friends at their ten-year reunion.  I wanted to sprinkle in some songs from their high school years, so I’ve been researching what was popular at the turn of the century. That got me to thinking about music from my high school years, and how the right tune can take me back in time more effectively than anything.

My number one take-me-back song?  Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi.  I was a cheerleader and we did a great pom-pom routine to this song.  I’m still friends with some of my cheer pals, and when we get together and a few bottles of wine have been shared, someone inevitably tries to re-enact the routine.  It always ends in laughter and a timely reminder that we aren’t teenagers anymore.  But when that song comes on, I’m back on the basketball court junior year, cheering along with Bon Jovi.  (I’ll save you the google search and calculations needed to figure out when I graduated: it was 1988.  I knew I was old when a young co-worker asked me what we wore to prom in the 80’s.  That was going to be her Halloween costume—an 80’s prom date.  That was a bad day for me.)

I’m not sure why certain songs have more impact than others.  I remember what song was on when I broke up with a boy while sitting in his car in my driveway.  (He was one of two Kevins I was dating at the time, and it was time to narrow it down to one.  Mean, I know.  I was fifteen, what can I say? I was on the receiving end of plenty of cringe-worthy breakups, so it all evens out.) Van Halen’s Why Can’t This Be Love was playing on the radio, and I couldn’t help note the irony of the background music for the moment (all while wondering if they had the most clichéd line in a song ever:  “Only time will tell if we stand the test of time.”  Yeah, that’s a good one, but that song has stood the test of time for me.

Play Madonna’s Crazy For You, and I’m back at one of our high school dances, waiting out the last song of the night while I stood there pretending I wasn’t bothered that I didn’t have anyone to slow dance with.  Or Prince’s Purple Rain, another standard slow-dance closer.  (That song took forever, especially when you weren’t dancing to it!)

So what’s the soundtrack of your youth?  Is there that one special song that takes you right back to high school?  You can find out which songs I picked for Reunion Flirts (class of 2002) when the book comes out in February.

“What’s new?” you ask.  Not many blog posts, obviously.  (I warned you.  Maybe that’ll be my New Year’s resolution: write more blog posts.)  But here’s a quick recap of some of my new titles that have been released this fall (links at the bottom of the post.)

More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories, follows the Carter siblings and their search for love in Boston while handling an unexpected inheritance.

The first three Willowdale shorts are now out.  (These should be read before the first novel.)  “A Fine How-De-Do,” “A Little Hanky-Panky,” and a “Perfect Setup.”  I also released a box set of these three shorts to save you a buck or two. (The Willowdale Short Story Collection Vol. 1)

Speaking of saving money, I’ve now got two box sets of my Flirts! collections available.

15 Shades of Pink! 15 Short Stories From The Flirts! Collections features all the stories from Flirts!, Beach Flirts! and Fairy Tale Flirts!  And I just released A Bundle of Flirts! 15 Romantic Short Stories From The Flirts! Collections which features the stories from Holiday Flirts!, Wedding Flirts! and More Flirts!  You get three collections in each box set for the price of two! 

And finally, my first romance novel, No Foolin’,  was released in December by Bell Bridge Books. It should be available on most online sales outlets (in paperback, too!)  Story #2 in the series, Man of the Month, is scheduled for release in March 2013.

And finally, I’m in the process of creating audio books and paperbacks for the Flirts! collections.  Look for Flirts! on Audible.com in January.

I’ve got lots of projects in the works.  Look for Reunion Flirts! by spring 2013.

Happy holidays and happy reading!  (And hey, want to know the perfect holiday gift for a writer?  Leave a review on one of their books you love!)

http://www.amazon.com/Flirts-Romantic-Stories-Collections-ebook/dp/B009TU95VW/ref=pd_sim_sbs_kstore_5

http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Willowdale-Romance-Collection-ebook/dp/B00AQ9RV1G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356008706&sr=1-1&keywords=a+perfect+setup

http://www.amazon.com/Willowdale-Short-Collection-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AQH0UGG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356008744&sr=1-1&keywords=the+willowdale+short+story

http://www.amazon.com/15-Shades-Pink-Collections-ebook/dp/B00889O4P2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356008780&sr=1-1&keywords=15+shades+of+pink

http://www.amazon.com/Romantic-Stories-Collections-Omnibus-ebook/dp/B00AEEXPI6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356008800&sr=1-1&keywords=a+bundle+of+flirts

http://www.amazon.com/No-Foolin-ebook/dp/B00AJ2TKX2/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

It’s getting close to release time for More Flirts!  Here’s the opening of one of my favorite stories in the collection:  “The Girl in the Pink Hat,” story #5.  This short was inspired by a friend of mine who lives in Boston and got off the subway at the wrong stop to chase down a pretty girl.

She had a boyfriend.

But still, super sweet and romantic.

“The Girl In The Pink Hat”

By Lisa Scott

            Zoe sighed as she read the precious handwriting on the crumpled sheet of paper again.  Like she hadn’t already memorized it.  “Learn to play the accordion,” she said with a groan.  That was a tough one.  But, she wasn’t going to argue with the list; it wasn’t her list to argue with.  If she was going to learn to play the accordion, she’d better get started.  Her therapist, Diana, had thought it was a good idea for Zoe to complete whatever tasks she could.  Scanning the fifty items on the list again, Zoe had the urge to call Diana back and ask her if that really was a good idea, after all.  Unfortunately, Diana had quit the business.

Zoe switched her attention to her computer, and searched Craigslist for used accordions. No luck.  Apparently, they were hard to find.  Either no one played them, or no one stopped playing them.  Maybe that was a good thing.  She didn’t really want to play the accordion.  Perhaps she should skip to the next thing on the list.

She was about to log off the site, when she hovered her mouse over the missed connections link. Before clicking on it, she hesitated a moment. It’d become a bit of an obsession since she’d started cruising Craigslist to find the crazy stuff on Jenny’s list.  Reading over the messages felt like being a voyeur, but she was enchanted with the near misses.  How often did people brush past the love of their life without even knowing it?  Were we all just a highway lane from finding true love? She wished there was some kind of follow up forum, so she could find out if the guy in the F-10 pickup truck ever connected with the redhead in the silver Miata on the 95 interstate.

She clicked on the tab. As usual, grocery stores were a popular place to catch someone’s eye. And the subway of course.  One man was looking for the woman who’d given him the crossword puzzle when she’d finished the paper at a coffee shop.  Another was looking for a woman who shared a smile near the swan boats in the park.

Then, goose bumps tickled her skin.  “The girl in the pink hat on the T.”  Zoe wore a pink hat—all the time.  It was her thing.  Jenny had given it to her two years earlier: a hot pink sunhat with a flower on the side.  Zoe’s heart thundered. With a shaky hand, she clicked on the message and her voice wavered as she read it aloud, as if Jenny were in the room with her.  “To the brunette wearing the pink hat on the green line, Tuesday around 6pm. You got off at the Back Bay exit.   Couldn’t stop looking at you.  We locked eyes for a moment.  If you’re interested, email me.”

She sucked in a breath.  “That’s me.”  Brown hair.  Pink hat. She’d been on the green line Tuesday, and got off at 6:05.  “I’m a missed connection,” she whispered.  Who’d been watching her?  There was that guy in the suit who’d glanced her way while he was talking on the phone.  Or maybe the guy reading the newspaper.  He was cute, and they’d shared a look.  Then she frowned.  Hopefully it wasn’t the guy in the dirty t-shirt who’d been itching his belly.  Nah, he hadn’t looked like he had internet access.  He certainly didn’t have access to a shower.

This guy could be anyone.  Her courage was waning, but then she thought of Jenny.  Jenny would never have a chance to be a missed connection.  Too bad it wasn’t on the list; it’d be nice to cross off a few things.

With Jenny on her mind, Zoe twisted her fingers in her lap and finally sucked up the courage to email him.  What did she have to lose?  If it was a bust, it was a bust.  They’d meet in public, and maybe—just maybe—this would go somewhere. “Hi!  It’s the girl in the pink hat.   I was on the green line Tuesday.  You’re the guy with the newspaper, right? I saw your message and I’d love to meet you.  Zoe.”  She looked up at the ceiling.  “I hope this is the right thing to do, Jenny.”  Then she crossed her fingers and hit send.

Ok, I feel so bad that this latest Flirts! volume is taking so long.  A few more weeks, I promise!  (I have to absolutely love the stories myself before I release them, and I’ve had to walk around with these in my head for a while until the stories shaped into something I really liked.)  So here’s the first few pages of “Pickup Lessons,” story #1 from More Flirts!

“Pickup Lessons”

By Lisa Scott

Stone Kinney crouched behind a rack of clearance evening gowns while setting his sights on the blonde fingering bottles at the perfume counter.  She bit her lush lower lip as she considered the choices.  The word stalker occurred to him as he watched her, but he reminded himself that all the dating books had instructed him to find women where they congregated.  The perfume counter was like a watering hole in the African tundra and he was merely observing the gathering. And besides, it’s not like he was staking out the lingerie section.  That would have been much more menacing than peeping at the cosmetics department.

But the women perusing perfumes weren’t much friendlier than wild animals stopping for a drink. The last two prospects he’d approached had swung their shopping bags at him. He’d have the bruises the next day to prove it. They must’ve just purchased hand weights.  Or rocks. Two others had sprinted toward the food court when he walked over from behind the gowns with a friendly grin.  Another had spritzed him with the tester—right in the eyes.  If he hadn’t been so annoyed, he would’ve been impressed with her aim.

The books had all made it sound much easier than this.  Not one had mentioned needing self-defense moves while trying to meet a woman at the mall.  He’d even worn argyle socks so he’d seem perfectly harmless—he had a drawer full of them to choose from.

He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Maybe social awkwardness couldn’t be overcome.  That should’ve been his dissertation instead of macroscopic quantum mechanics in theoretical astrophysics.  How the hell was that going to help him get a date? It was as if he’d bent his head to start reading sophomore year in high school and now only looked up ten years later.  He had a lot of dating to catch up on and little experience how to do it.  His one and only girlfriend, Susan, had been consumed with her work on protozoa.  Seriously, a singular cell organism was more interesting than him? Then she’d dumped him for her micro-biology professor.  Now here he was with a new Ph.D., no job prospects, and no girlfriend.  With the job search stalled, Stone decided to focus his attention on the female problem.  After years with his head literally in the stars, it was time to get his feet back on the ground, argyle socks or not.

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching the blonde.  “I want to pick out a perfume for my sister’s birthday. Any suggestions?”

She cocked her head and squinted at him.  “What’s wrong with your eyes?  They’re all red and swollen.”

He cleared his throat, wondering if he’d get sympathy points for telling her about the tester fiasco.  “Allergies. Wicked bad allergies.”

“In January?”

“Weird, right? Maybe I’m just sensitive.”  He let that hang there for a reaction, but only got a stare.  Guess she doesn’t like the sensitive type.

He rocked back on his heels. “So, any perfume suggestions from a beautiful woman such as yourself?”

She frowned. “Are you sure your sister wears perfume?”

He shrugged. “She always smells great.  Real sexy.  It’s quite the chemical reaction with her pheromones.”

The blonde blinked at him and backed away.  “Yeah. I’ve got to go…”

This is what you get for putting school ahead of women, he thought to himself. His priorities had been all out of whack. Sighing, he was ready to retreat behind a rack of burgundy ball gowns to regroup, when he spotted a cute brunette on the other side of the counter.

He loosened his shoulders and bounced on his toes, then walked over with an easy-going smile.  At least he hoped it was.  One of the books had advised him to appear approachable, and he’d practiced several different expressions in the mirror to achieve the right look.  Although the difference between his look of nausea and nice-to-meet-you was subtle at best.  He tapped the woman on the shoulder and she jumped.

“Excuse me,” he said.  “I’m shopping for my sister’s birthday and I’d like to buy perfume for her. Any good ones you could recommend?  You look like you smell nice.” He cleared his throat.  “You know, from an evolutionary standpoint, with your thick shiny hair and full hips, your scent is bound to be attractive as well.”

“Uh-huh.” She scrunched her brows together and looked down.  “Um, perfume’s kind of a personal thing.”  She smoothed her hand over her hips and frowned.  Then she crossed her arms.

“There has to be one popular with hot women like you.” He’d been trying to learn how to read body language, and he knew that crossed arms were not a move meant to boost the bust.  It was usually a bad sign.  At least that’s what the book on body language had said.

“Why don’t you ask the saleswoman for a suggestion?”  She wrinkled her nose. “She looks like she smells nice, too. Although I haven’t seen her hips.”  She picked up her shopping bags and walked off.

“Today’s the Pro Bowl!  Don’t I get points for shopping on the biggest sports day of the year?  For my sister’s birthday?” It was stupid to holler after her while she was walking away.  That was an even worse non-verbal cue than the arm cross, but he was getting frustrated.

“You don’t even have a sister, do you?”

He turned around to see who was talking to him.  He smiled at the attractive saleswoman he’d been watching all afternoon.  This was the first time she hadn’t been busy helping someone or else he would’ve approached her, too.  “What makes you say I don’t have a sister?”  He didn’t.  But how would she know?

The woman put a hand on her hip.  “I’ve never met a guy who bought perfume for his sister.  I have four brothers; they’re never that thoughtful.  And what’s this Pro Bowl business?”

He toyed with the cap on a perfume bottle, knocking it over.  She snatched the bottle from him and he shoved his hands in his pockets.“I thought it would impress the ladies that I was shopping on the biggest sports day of the year.  So, I’d come across manly, yet sensitive with my argyle socks.” He lifted up his leg to show her.

She blinked.  “You’re not kidding, are you?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t like sports, I thought it was a plus.”

She laughed. “First of all, argyle socks are lame. And secondly, the Pro Bowl is in two weeks. Today’s the divisional playoffs. Third of all, no one watches the Pro Bowl—the biggest game of the year is the Super Bowl. And even if you were out here on Super Bowl Sunday, that’s a desperate, devious ploy.”

“I’d call it creative.”

“Coy at best.  Besides, some women like sports.  I’ll have my butt in a barstool on super bowl Sunday. Maybe your sister will, too?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “You a big NFL fan?”  He held up a finger.  “Wait. I don’t mean that you’re big.  You’re not big at all.  You’re quite a nice size.  I’m sure I could fit my hands around—”

“I’m a huge fan.”  She crossed her arms and glared at him.