BOOK BLITZ w/EXCERPT - ROM-COM - THE DREAM (Creek Water, #4) by Whitney Dineen

THE DREAM

Creek Water, #4

by Whitney Dineen

Publication date: June 21st 2020

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

BLURB
Ashley has loved the same boy since high school. She knew Davis Frothingham was special even before he championed her at her senior prom. She also knew he was completely out of her league.

Years later, her attraction for him is still there, but Davis? He doesn’t even remember her.

When Ashley is tasked with being the nurse for Davis’ terminally ill grandmother, she’s thrown back into his world. More than anything, she wants him to remember her, but that recollection could come at a price of its own.

Can Ashley accept that she’s good enough for Davis? And can Davis learn to love a girl from the wrong side of the tracks?

Find out in this delightfully fun romcom about love and life in Creek Water, Missouri!

Goodreads
Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I don’t meet his eyes. “No.”
“Why not?” he wants to know.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I retaliate.
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Point taken,” he concedes.
We’re sitting and staring at each other when Davis puts his hand on mine. He clears his throat in preparation to speak. A wave of anticipation washes over me, and I subconsciously hold my breath like I’m deep sea diving without an oxygen tank.
He’s probably not going to say, “Ashley, I’ve known who you were since the moment I saw you in the nursing home. I’ve secretly loved you since high school and wanted more than anything to tell you the depth of my feelings ever since, but I was afraid you’d turn me down.”
I’m fully aware I’m having some kind of mental break here, so you’re just gonna have to bear with me. I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to declare, “You’re the woman of my dreams and I long to hold you in my arms until the end of time.”
Chances are he won’t conclude this imaginary monologue by picking me up and carrying me out of the restaurant so he can take me to his house and ravish me. But the bottom line is that we’ll never know because just as he opens his mouth, a voice behind me says, “Davis Frothingham? My heavens, how long has it been? You look positively wonderful!”
Davis’s eyes move upward as he sees my unwelcome ghost from adolescence past. “Jessica. I didn’t know you were back in town. Are you visiting for long?”
“No, sir.” I can hear the interest in her tone as clear as day. “I just moved back to Creek Water. I thought for sure Beau would have told you.”
If Beau is involved, that probably means she’s buying a house, which would mean she’s not planning anything temporary. Crap. Why the heck is everyone coming back?
“Welcome home,” he tells her. Then he motions toward me. “This is …”
But before he can say my name, she looks at me and declares, “Oh hey, it’s you, from the bathroom!” She’s as excited as if I were a long-lost sorority sister.
“Hey,” I somehow manage while my throat constricts in terror. The Jessica Holt I know from high school would full on poop a brick if she knew she was being nice to FelAshleyO MoanRow. The good news is that Davis never said my name, and Jessica is so self-absorbed she doesn’t seem to care who I am.
The waitress comes over and delivers several plates including the filet, a lobster tail, and a caesar salad. As delicious as everything looks, I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat a bite of it.
“Do y’all work together or something?” Jessica asks once our food is situated. How insulting. She should assume we’re on a date considering our close physical proximity—side-by-side, not across from each other— but the thought doesn’t appear to occur to her.
I let Davis answer the question. “I work alone, carving furniture,” he says, not offering any other explanation.
“That’s right,” Jessica declares. “I have a couple of clients I’d like to send your way. Maybe I can stop by your workshop sometime this week.”
“Sure,” Davis replies. “I’m on the first floor of the Creeky Button Factory. Just ring the bell and I’ll let you in.”
“I can’t wait,” she enthuses. Then much less excitedly, she adds, “I guess I’d better get going. We just finished dinner and my folks are waiting in the car.” She lingers as though Davis might invite her to join us and perhaps even offer to take her home afterward.
I can’t let that happen, so I boldly put my hand on Davis’s arm and announce, “Don’t let us keep you. Have a good night.”
Davis’s mouth turns up at the corners into a lopsided smile like he’s trying to keep from laughing out loud. Then he tells his ex-girlfriend, “It was nice seeing you, Jessica. Have a good night.”
Jessica does not look happy. I want to take out my phone and snap a picture of her, so I can enjoy her expression at my leisure. Being that wouldn’t paint me in the best light, I don’t do it. But oh, boy, if I did, I’d print a hundred copies and hang them all over my trailer.

Author Info
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to. 

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables. 

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017. 

Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.
Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.
Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.
Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017
Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter

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BOOK BLITZ w/EXCERPT - CONTEMPORARY ROM-COM - THE PLAN (Creek Water, #3) by Whitney Dineen

THE PLAN

Creek Water, #3

by Whitney Dineen

Publication date: March 10th 2020

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

BLURB
Bead shop owner Amelia Frothingham has been keeping a secret from everyone she knows.

She pretends to be the ultimate care-free bohemian chick, but the truth is, she’s the world’s biggest control freak. Much to the delight of her Southern family, Amelia’s life appears to be smooth sailing. That is, until bad boy rockstar Huck Wiley mysteriously blows into town like a spring tornado.

Like every other woman under eighty with a pulse, Amelia’s intrigued. So when Huck starts showing up in her shop with flirtation in mind, she finds herself getting sucked into the rock god vortex. But her previous attempts at long-distance love have always ended on a sour note, so Amelia has vowed never to repeat the experience.

What Amelia doesn’t know is that Huck has a secret of his own, and he has no intention of returning to Los Angeles before he’s good and ready.

Will Huck stay in town, scattering the beads Amelia has finally gotten sorted? Or will he head back to his glamorous life and take her last chance at spontaneity and love along with him?

Find out in this deliciously funny romcom about love and life in Creek Water, Missouri!

Goodreads

Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

By the time three thirty rolls around, I haven’t had a customer in over an hour, so I decide to run upstairs and make a cup of tea. Just as I’m about to turn on the television while I wait for the water to boil, the bell over the shop door rings. Note to business owners, the ticket to more foot traffic is leaving the store in pursuit of tea. I might need to write a book. I could call it “If You Make Tea, They Will Come.”
I turn off the pot and run downstairs to see who my customer is. When I hit the bottom step, I have a clear view of a person standing next to my brightly painted apothecary drawer full of carnelian beads. I’m either in the throes of a major hallucination or dreams really do come true. Huck Wiley, or someone who looks enough like him to be his identical twin, is standing under one of the three beaded chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above my workstation. He’s looking at the necklace I was just working on.
He’s wearing jeans so faded and torn they look like they’re ready for the rag bin, yet I’m willing to bet he spent more on them than most people spend on ten pairs. The rock god is sporting a vintage U2 t-shirt and a black leather jacket. I can’t see what his shoes look like because there’s a display case blocking my view, but I’d put money on biker boots.
The floorboards creak as I step forward. My disbelieving eyes focus like a thirsty wanderer lost in the desert having just spotted a distant source of water. Whoever he is, he turns and looks right at me. His smile is so bright I may have gasped out loud in response. Seven more steps land me directly in front of him.
“Can I help you?” My tone is prim, reminiscent of a school librarian daring a student to try to check out a book before paying his overdue fine.
“Hey there,” he croons in that voice, the one I know so well from having spent hours listening to his music. My mouth hangs open like I’m a drooling idiot, but I can’t seem to close it. “I heard you gave beading classes and I was wondering if you have a special session for kids.”
I temporarily forget that he and I speak the same language. Did he just ask me about beading classes? I must be experiencing a particularly vivid fantasy. Rock star Huck Wiley can’t possibly be a closet beader, can he? Wait, he said “for kids” … Maybe I fell asleep when I went upstairs to make tea and this dream is making up for last night’s ball and chain fiasco. If so, it’s a good one.
The vision in front of me releases an easy laugh, a real laugh. Huck Wiley is probably used to odd reactions from strange women, and let me say, I’m doing my darndest to behave strangely. “Would you tell me when those classes are?” he persists.
Forcing myself to behave as normally as possible, I robotically tell him, “I have one on Wednesday and Thursday right after school, so four o’clock. They last for an hour and the price of the class includes the materials for one bracelet. It usually takes four classes to complete a project.” I don’t mean to brag, but my acting skills have gone untapped until now and I managed to get that whole sentence out without tripping over my tongue.
He nods. “Would you be available for a private lesson during the morning sometime?”
I shrug awkwardly like I’m having some kind of seizure. “For now, or during the summer?” What kid isn’t at school during school hours now?
“My daughter will be doing online school and I’d like for her to have a break during the day. You know, other kids get recess and lunch, I’d like for Maggie to get out and about.”
My jaw drops wide open. My earlier attempts at appearing normal have failed me. I’m back to feeling like I’m in a science fiction television show and I’ve just leaped out of my body. It’s like I’m watching me have this conversation with the biggest rock star of our time from the ceiling. The part of me that’s escaped its confines wants to shout down to the rest of me, “Close your mouth, girl!” But I can’t, so I don’t.
Instead, I say, “I’m sorry, but are you Huck Wiley?”
“I am.”
“Why are you here?” I demand. “Don’t you live in Los Angeles or something?”
“Or something,” he answers evasively. Before he can say anything else, I reach across the counter and touch the man’s face. His slightly stubbly beard scratches at my fingertips and then I swear I don’t know what comes over me, but I pinch him.
He jumps back and releases a short bark of surprise, assuring me he’s not some figment I’ve conjured. “I’m so sorry,” I say, quickly regaining my senses. “I thought maybe I was dreaming you up or something.”
“I think you’re supposed to pinch yourself when you think you’re dreaming,” he says, looking at me like I might be an escaped mental patient.

Author Info
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to. 

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables. 

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.
Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.
Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.
Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.
Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017
Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

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BOOK BLITZ w/EXCERPT - ROM-COM - THE MOVE (Creek Water, #2) by Whitney Dineen

The Move

Creek Water, #2

by Whitney Dineen

Publication date: January 1st 2020

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

BLURB
When Lexi Blake was twelve years old, a fortune teller gave her the following cryptic message:
In your thirtieth year, once the dog jumps over you, your life will change in the most unexpected ways.

Lexi is thirty now and the following unexpected things have occurred:
•While walking through Central Park enjoying a beautiful fall day, Lexi eats dirt when a careless dog owner throws a frisbee at her head. A dog jumps over her.
•Lexi gets a promotion that pays less than her current job.
•Her crush announces that he’s engaged.
•Her apartment turns condo and she can’t afford the down payment.

In order to escape her bad luck, she takes a vacation to visit a good friend in Creek Water, Missouri. But as it turns out, fate has a lot more in store for Lexi Blake.

Will a good friend, an unexpected love interest, and a historic house have her scrapping her plans and moving to a small town on the banks of the Mississippi River? Find out in the delightfully funny rom-com that’s sure to make you believe in happy endings!

Goodreads
 Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

I turn to give Emmie’s cousin a wave of greeting. We haven’t met yet, but I’ve heard so many Beau stories over the years that I feel like I already know him. I’m not at all prepared for the sight that greets me. I imagined Beau would look a lot like Emmie: tall, blond, medium build. What I see instead is a masculine tower of solid, dark, brooding, hunka-hunka burning love. I mean seriously, WOW. My mouth hangs open in a most awkward fashion, and I force it shut before I drool on my shoes or something.
Beau glides by in his perfectly faded jeans that fit like they were made for him—every contour deliciously showcased, like the mice from Cinderella sewed them especially for him. He’s wearing a blue dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, highlighting forearms that are no stranger to physical work. He must not have seen me—maybe because I’ve already climbed two steps to the second floor—because he says to Emmie, “That woman is going to be the death of me.”
“Shelby?” Emmie asks.
“Who else? I swear to God when Cootie was pregnant with her she must have drunk a gallon of vinegar a day. That gal is as ornery as the day is long.”
“Before you tell me what she did, I’d like you to meet my friend Lexi from New York.” Emmie gestures in such a way as to let Beau know that I’m standing behind him.
He turns to say hello, and my jaw drops open at the sheer impact of looking straight into his piercing eyes. I snap my lips shut, realizing my open-mouthed sea bass look might have him wondering if I’m mentally challenged.
Beau’s stare is so intense that I hurry to say, “I’ll go on upstairs so you two can talk.” God knows what personal things he might have said had Emmie not alerted him of my presence. I don’t wait for either of them to reply before dashing up to the sleeping loft. Of course, it’s an open loft, so I can still hear every word they say, but at least the privacy is implied.
“You know the dance the club has right after Thanksgiving?” I hear Beau ask.
Emmie replies, “The Cornucopia Ball? What of it?”
“Cootie has proposed that this year the club members elect a king and queen of the ball and she wants me and Shelby to campaign for it.”
Emmie starts laughing. “No! You know they’ll make you wear a cornucopia on your head if you win.” She’s giggling so hard she can barely catch her breath.
“Can you imagine?” Beau asks. “I’d feel like Henry the Eighth or something. No, sir, I’m not doin’ it.” A moment later he adds, “Shelby thinks it’s because I hate her mother.”
“Well you sort of do,” Emmie tells him. “We all do.”
“I told her, ‘Shelby, it’s not just ’cause I hate your mama, it’s because it’s the darned stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of and I won’t be a party to it.’ I may have also mentioned that I don’t even want to go.”
“Beauregard Frothingham, you cannot skip the ball! My god, Cootie would never let you live it down.”
“Those demented club ladies are not the boss of me, Emmie. I have never danced to their tune, and I’m not gonna start now.”
“I’m guessing you mentioned that to Shelby?”
“I did,” he says. “It did not go well.”
“Ya think? Beau, that dance is the second biggest event the club throws next to the New Years’ Eve gala. They nominate the committee who organizes the following year’s ball the day after the current event. For a whole year, they’re girdle-deep in the trenches, planning it.” Then she calls up the stairs, “Come on down, Lex, I want to show you the rest of the first floor.”
I quickly descend as I was sitting at the top of the staircase blatantly eavesdropping—while trying to catch the breath that was stolen from me when I saw Beau.
When I appear, Emmie’s cousin looks at me and his gorgeous green eyes squint together before he blatantly frowns at me. I come to a quick stop. I’m not sure if it’s because I look deranged from traveling or what, but I get the sense he’s taken an immediate dislike to me.
I step forward to shake his hand, having forgotten I’m still on the second stair and I wind up falling down like a drunken circus clown. Emmie rushes to my side, “Lexi, are you okay?” She reaches to give me a hand up while her cousin does nothing more than stand there and stare at me.
“I’m fine,” I say, hurrying to my feet. “I thought I’d shake Beau’s hand and didn’t realize I was still on the second stair. I must be tired from my flight.” Or, you know, an idiot.
Way to go, Lexi.
“You poor thing,” Emmie says. “Why don’t you come on over here to the couch and sit down. I’ll get you a nice glass of water.”
I do as she suggests, wondering how a glass of cold water is going recoup my dignity after making a fool of myself in front of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Beau has not moved an inch, either to aid me or greet me. Emmie passes by him as she walks toward the open-concept kitchen. She punches him in the stomach and says, “Don’t be such a dolt. Be sociable.”
Beau’s feet eventually start to move in my direction. Once he reaches the couch, he stops right in front of me, nearly boring holes through me with the intensity of his gaze. He demands, “Who are you again?”

Author Info
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to. 

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.
Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017
Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016. 

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.
Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.
Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017
Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Facebook / Instagram

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