Hello my lovelies! It's been a year since my last story published. My new one is called "A Midsummer Wish" and is in The Bedroom Diaries Anthology, which will be LIVE on June 30th.

It's currently in pre-order, so if you want, smash that button!

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Here's a little taste for you...

June, 1924

Stephan entered his bedroom and stood looking down at her. He realized he should probably put a light on and went to the bedside and lit the lamp, the only one, in a far corner. He turned and beheld a vision.

Her limbs were porcelain pale, her hair, jet black. Her lips – pillowy – were slicked a deep crimson, and her legs were encased in silk stockings, as he caught a glimpse of the garter high on one leg.

She wore a fortune in pearls around her neck. And she wasn’t moving.

Suddenly alarmed, he knelt down to her, put his ear to her chest to see if he could hear her heart beating.

The woman moaned just then, took a deep breath so the bare skin of her decolletage brushed his cheek with her warmth.

He jerked back but was still quite close when her eyes opened.

They were as deep green as her dress and clouded with confusion. “Wha…what happened?”

“You fell. Apparently from the inside of my wardrobe,” he added, nodding to where the wardrobe doors were standing wide. “Knocked your head a bit. Here, sit up a little.”

“I’d rather stand,” she said, and held out her hand. “Your help would be appreciated.”

“Of course.” Gallantly, he helped her up and walked her into the relative safety of the sitting room. “Please, sit. Would you like a drink?” He grimaced. “All I have is whiskey.”

“I’d quite like a drink.” She perched on the edge of the divan and took in her surroundings. “Where are we?”

Stephan handed her a tot of whiskey in heavy cut crystal. “It’s a big place, isn’t it? I’m still finding my way around. This is the Casa del Monte. Or, informally, the B House. Hearst’s ranch.”

Her green eyes widened even further. “Oh,” she said, her voice faint. “How…unusual.” She touched the back of her head gently. “Ow.”

“Does your head hurt horribly? I may have an aspirin or two about.”

She sent him a shy smile. “I’ll be all right.”

He walked to the window, then back to face her again. “I suppose you should know my name. I am Stephan Pierce.”

“Velma Jane Calloway. A pleasure.” She sipped the whiskey, then primmed her lips. “Mm. Lovely.”

“How did you get into my wardrobe?” Stephan watched as the crystal hovered just in front of Velma’s lips. He noticed again the confusion that came and went in her eyes, heard her light laugh, and prepared for her lies.

“Do you know, I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps there’s a secret passage from your room to – but no, that would be rather impossible, wouldn’t it? Hm. Fascinating,” she said, almost to herself.

Stephan walked to the window and back once again. He could detect no lie in her voice, and he did not know what to do with that. “You are a most enchanting creature.” He turned to face her.

Velma laughed, the sound bell-like on the air. “You, sir, are a flatterer.” She fluttered her lashes. “I like that about you. It also sounds like you do not approve,” she added. “Who are you, Stephan Pierce?”

“I’m an actor. Stage, currently, but I’m trying to break into the pictures.” He grimaced. “That’s why I’m here at the Hearst ranch. Frankly, I have no standing to approve or disapprove of you being enchanting. But I do wish to know, why are you here?”

“I haven’t the slightest. And even less of an idea of how I got here.” She set her glass down, having only sipped at it. “To be frank, Stephan, I was dressing for my mother’s Midsummer Ball. In my very own room in her house. I had just applied my lipstick and was looking in the mirror when I thought I saw…” she shook her head. “I remember feeling dizzy. Then I woke up here.”

“Where is your mother’s house?”

“South of here, by several hours, if you speak true and we’re at the Hearst ranch. To be precise, my mother’s house is in Montecito. Grandfather is in shipping. I’ve never been here before,” she confided. “Never expected to be here, ever. Hearst is…not our sort of people.”

“And is it June 12, 1924 at your mother’s house?”

“Of course it is, what a silly thing to say,” she said quite comfortably.

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