Liz Flaherty Brings Her Latest Harlequin Heartwarming EVERY TIME WE SAY GOODBYE

I am such a fan of Liz Flaherty’s outlook on life.  Liz
thinks one of the things that keeps you young when you quite obviously aren’t
anymore is the constant chances you have to reinvent yourself. Her latest
professional incarnation is as a Harlequin Heartwarming author and she is
enjoying every minute! 

She’s joining us today with a glimpse of her latest Heartwarming romance, as well as some wonderful memories. Welcome, Liz. I’m so glad you’ve stopped by for a visit.

Thanks so
much for having me here today, Barb!

 Since I’ve
reached a certain age, I tend to write about it a lot. Even when I’m not writing about it, I mention it and
sense an eye-rolling “here she goes again” from behind my back.
 But I’m
writing this from a hotel lobby in Chicago. The traffic is crazy outside the
front windows and I can hear delightful accents from a phone conversation
taking place across the lobby. British, and a lot of “lovelys” in the
conversation. There is no quiet to be had here, so I’m not looking for it, just
embracing the joyful noise that seems to abound.
Last night,
we had dinner at the Hard Rock Café. The food was good, the service good, and
the two teenage girls here with my daughter and me seemed to enjoy themselves.
After dinner, the girls were perusing tee shirts in the gift shop and Kari and
I were standing near the end of the bar waiting.
The band
started. Speaking of joyful noise.
 The girls
were shopping.
I beamed my
way through “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” with thoughts of Bette Midler careening
through my mind. Then they sang a Maguire Sisters song and I remembered my
sister singing “Sugar in the Morning.” And then it was some serious Bill Haley
and the Comets, whom I don’t really remember but whose music reverberates
through my very soul.
 The girls
came out of the gift shop. They stood and waited. I pretty much ignored them.
Finally Kari asked if we could sit somewhere and listen since we’d just had
dinner there.
You bet.
The band
played music all the way through Motown, surf, and British Invasion, with doo
wop thrown in for flavor. Except for about three songs, I knew all the words or
thought I did. There was a twist contest, which I came nowhere near winning,
but everyone was up and moving. There wasn’t an eye-roll to be found
Feeling. Not wanting it to be over.
Cole Porter
grew up around the county seat where I live. Cole left, though, moving to the
Big City, and wrote…oh, so many songs. Most of which don’t really resonate
all that much with me, although they did with my mom and dad. Hearing “Begin
the Beguine” still makes me catch my breath because it was Mom’s favorite.
 But I
remember always knowing about Cole Porter. I remember growing up in Miami
County, Indiana, where Nothing Ever Happens. (I still live there—I’m really
good with nothing ever happening, thank you very much.) 
So when I invented a
lake in central Indiana as a setting for at least one Harlequin Heartwarming
book, the former mayor of Peru named the lake—Miniagua—and Cole Porter named
both the book—Every Time We Say Goodbye—and
most of the businesses on it. We have, to name a few, the Silver Moon Café, the
Anything Goes Grill, the It’s De-Lovely Salon, and…you get my drift. It’s a
contemporary story, not historical, but with the writing of it, I got to feel a
lot of the things memory gives you. I didn’t want it to be over. There was a
lot of joyful noise going on with it. It’s the story of…well, here’s the
blurb, which explains it better than I would.
He had her at “hello again…” 
After the prom night accident that had stolen the innocence
of his small lakeside hometown, Jack Llewellyn had run. The guilt—especially
facing his high school sweetheart, Arlie Gallagher—had been too much. Now he
had no choice. He was back in town, and on Arlie’s radar. 
Arlie couldn’t believe that after all these years, she still
had him under her skin. He was such a changed man…a responsible business owner,
a single parent. Would he understand the changes she’d gone through, the secrets
she lived with? She was ready to forgive him but was he ready to forgive
himself? And did they have to say goodbye this time?
Buy links:
Liz would love to hear from you at or please come and see her at:     

Medieval Monday:FREE Today–The Outcast Highlander from R. L. Syme

On Medieval Monday, I’m happy to welcome USA Today Bestselling Author R. L. Syme who has a wonderful gift for everyone–THE OUTCAST HIGHLANDER. Just follow the link she’s given, below, and you can get your gift copy! FREE.

Today’s Betrayal excerpt is from that book, which is the first in the Highland Renegade series.

“Bring them forward.” The fat
man reached across his table and picked up a charred leg of some animal. Broc
had never seen a sheriff eat in court before and hoped this was a sign of his
gluttony. Men with deep desires always had a price.
The front guards stepped aside
and Elizabeth walked between them, leaving Broc in their midst. With his broad
sword strapped to his back, it wouldn’t have taken him long to cut through them
if he’d had to. Most of them were boys, even compared to his own years, but
more importantly, they were not well-fed nor well-trained. The soldiers were in
use elsewhere and those who remained filled what boots they could.
They would be quick fodder if
someone threatened Elizabeth.
“My lord and sheriff.”
Elizabeth’s voice wavered, but she executed a perfect curtsey, staying near the
floor until he bade her rise.
Until he got a good eyeful of
her spilling décolletage, more like. Broc shuffled uneasily. She played a
dangerous game.
“Rise, lady.” The sheriff
burped and set down the leg of fowl. A wild turkey, by the look of it. Large,
browned skin, dripping with fatty juices. He licked his lips like the lecherous
fool he was and leaned over the table. With a smile, he followed her rise.
“I’m here to beg you for the
release of my husband, Lord Andrew de Moray, Twelfth Viscount of Avoch and
Strathaven, servant to the king.”
Broc held his laugh in. Servant to which king? The sheriff would
assume Edward, who had taken the rule
of Scotland along with England. But when Andrew said it, he meant Robert Bruce,
whom he considered to be the true King of Scotland.
The sheriff only leered at
Elizabeth and grinned. “I’ve heard of your coming, lady. I trust you were safe,
even with your company.”
“I am safe.” Elizabeth turned
to the dungeon door and cringed visibly. “I’ve heard of my husband’s capture
and impending doom. I wish to bargain for his life.”
“And what did you bring to
Elizabeth straightened and
lifted her chin. This was at least not the posture of a woman who planned to
prostitute herself for her husband. For that much, Broc relaxed.
“I have a suit of armor made
by Spanish monks in the 11th century for my lord’s father.”
The sheriff pulled a knife
from his side pocket and began to pick his teeth. “Yes?”
“And enough gold and silver to
fill three chests, but I’m sure I could get more.”
He kept picking his teeth,
flicking pieces off the blade to toss at various courtiers. Each one looked
disgusted at the act, but smiled in return. He had these men well-trained
“You’ll have to do better than
“My lord is wise, as always.”
Elizabeth turned to Broccin and a hint of regret passed across her face.
She was about to offer herself.
Broc’s hand went immediately
to the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw, ten long spears had come
down around him. Each tip was so close to his neck, if he moved in any one
direction, he would be a dead man.
“I have as my captive, the
leader of the renegade group of Highland warriors that have been falsely raiding
and plundering in my husband’s good name.” Elizabeth sank into another curtsey.
“As a token of my good fellowship, rather than having him killed upon capture,
I offer him to you in exchange for my husband’s release and the clearing of his
good name.”
Broc couldn’t breathe. If
there hadn’t been ten sharp edges within striking distance of his throat, he
would have pushed forward and demanded she speak sense.
Beneath the spears, a boy
snuck forward and twisted rope around Broc’s hands. Suddenly, the knot was so
tight, he couldn’t move at all. The spears raised and one of the guards pulled
his sword from its sheath, and tossed it forward.
The long weapon slid all the
way through the circle of guards, almost to Elizabeth’s side, and she glanced
back in her curtsey. Broc met her eyes and seethed, but her countenance did not
“They call themselves the Mac Ri Albannach.” Elizabeth
over-pronounced the Gaelic like a true English, then returned to the refined,
long tones of the court. “Sons of the Rightful King.”
Broc snorted. They did no such thing—they didn’t need to
call themselves anything.
But to the English, there was nothing more
fearsome than an organized group of rebel warriors from the unknown mountains.
He struggled against his bonds and one of the spears sliced into his shoulder.
The cut was deep and the hot,
thick blood flowed down his back in double time.
“I hear tell there’s a real
man behind this legendary Highlander who raids English strongholds and beheads
shire magistrates.” The fat sheriff stood and walked around the table.
“I had friends at Carlisle.”
The fat man spat from outside the circle of armed guards. “Friends who were
killed by some band of rebels, intent on savagery and filth.”
He pulled Elizabeth to her
feet. “And yet you captured this man? How do you intend to prove it was him and
not your husband who led these raids?”
“Ask them.”
The sheriff called out. “Bring
the raider out.”
From the corner of the room, a
man in chains was pushed forward. Broc’s heart sank. The man they’d assumed
dead, Tearny MacDonnogh, was almost no better off than if they had indeed
killed him. His once muscular frame was now emaciated, with skin hanging from
his arms. He was bare to the waist and the scars of beatings reminded Broc of
just how long it had been since they had been to Berwick.
“Is this the man who led you
at Carlisle?” the sheriff asked. “And is he leading the Mac Ri Albannach?”
Tearney’s greasy, matted hair
swung around his face as he nodded. His eyes were half-closed and his mouth
hung open, but he managed to make his affirmation known.
The sheriff cackled and threw
Elizabeth to the ground. “I’ll be knighted for this for certain.”
With broad gestures, he
pointed to Tearny and then the dungeon door. “Release both of them to her care,
as we agreed. And take this one down to the bowels. I want the smithy to make
him special chains with double-thick cast and no slack.”
He took his captain of the
guard by the throat. “And by God, he had better be who she says he is, or it’s
going to be your head on a silver plate instead of mine.”
“He’s the man, my lord.” The
captain scratched at his throat where the fat hands had gripped him. “He bears
the marks from Lord Hobble’s double-bladed Arabian weapon. I saw the scars on
his arm.”
Broc swallowed. He did bear
such a scar, and he had been the one to kill the perverted English lord in the
battle of Carlisle, but only because the man had nearly killed Andrew and was
about to disembowel him when Broc discovered and beheaded the man.
He was outnumbered, his weapon
lost to him, bound, and soon to be imprisoned. Fighting back now would only
mean Andrew’s certain continued imprisonment and possible death. At least if he
kept quiet like a captive, he could know Andrew was free. Even if it meant he
would rot in the dungeon himself.
The Outcast Highlander begins
the Highland Renegades series of medieval romance novels by USA Today bestselling author R.L. Syme
(also writing as Becca Boyd). Please visit today to get The Outcast
for FREE! Happy reading!

Nearing End of 99 Cent Sale

The Heart of the Phoenix is nearing the end of its 99 cent sale. Today its featured on Free and Discounted Kindle Books, – and

 Here’s the direct link to Amazon:

Some call him a ruthless mercenary; she calls him the
knight of her heart. 

Lady Evelynn’s childhood hero is
home—bitter, hard, tempting as sin. And haunted by secrets.
A now-grown
Evie offers friendship, but Sir Stephen’s cruel rejection crushes her, and she
resolves to forget him. Yet when an unexpected war throws them together, she
finds love isn’t so easy to dismiss. If only the king hadn’t betrothed her to

Can be cruel                                                                                                                                          
Stephen lives a double life while he seeks the treacherous outlaws who murdered
his friends. Driven by revenge, he thinks his heart is closed to love. His
childhood shadow, Lady Evie, unexpectedly challenges that belief. He rebuffs
her, but he can’t forget her, although he knows she’s to wed the king’s

And deadly                                                                                                                                        
his drive for vengeance leads to Evie’s kidnapping, Stephen must choose between
retribution and the love he’s denied too long. Surely King John will see
reason. Convict the murderers; convince the king. Simple. Until a startling
revelation threatens everything.

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