Welcome, Romance Author, Brenda Whiteside

NOTE FROM GINGER:  OMG...this is proof that my mind is gone.  I was FBing with a childhood friend named Barbara, and I inadvertently typed Barbara Whiteside instead of BRENDA.  I'm so sorry!  I'm going to redo my promotion so people will see what a dunce I am.

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Thanks for having me on Dishin’ It, Ginger. The Art of Love and Murder is my newest release and book one in the Love and Murder Series. I’m celebrating with a Rafflecopter giveaway for a $25 Amazon Gift Card. There are several ways to win so please enter!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Dishin’ It doesn’t refer to food, but it did get me thinking. I’m not a foodie. I don’t even like to cook, although I do love to eat. Lacy Dahl, the heroine in my latest book, and I have that in common. On this Love and Murder Tour, I’ve covered just about every topic relating to the book except food. Maybe it’s high time for a few food facts. Food can be
an aphrodisiac, right?

The first food Lacy eats when she hits town is Mexican – tacos and a margarita.

The second evening in town she has dinner at the Brie and dines on grilled flatbread, asparagus appetizers, Teira Merlot and salmon.

(So far her food tastes match mine – funny how that happens when I create a character.)
But the lunch of roast beef sandwiches and red wine by a bubbling stream under a blue sky just might be the love potion that led to this scene:

He encircled her waist, his hands warmed to the touch of her beneath the thin gauze shirt. She nipped his bottom lip then laid soft kisses on his cheek and his forehead. He pulled her in, burying his face against her chest. He inhaled the patchouli-rose scent, reeling as if he’d drank more wine than he had. He kissed the warm, soft skin in the valley of her breasts exposed above the edge of her blouse. His hands gathered the gauze against his palms until the bareness of her waist ignited the nerve endings in his fingertips.

She gasped at the contact and pushed his face firmer against her breasts. His hands moved under her blouse, to the front, and cupped her lace-covered breasts. He spread kisses across her collarbone, tasted her neck while he caressed the soft heat the lace did little to hide. The pulse below her ear ticked against his lower lip when he licked at her lobe. Her breath came fast and wet against his temple. He uncrossed his legs, stretching them on each side of her kneeling posture, and she leaned into him as they lowered onto the blanket, rolling to their sides in an embrace.

Blurb:
Lacy Dahl never questioned her past until the deaths of her adoptive parents and her husband. A husband who wasn't what he seemed. Her research uncovers secrets about the mother she never knew; secrets that dispute the identity of her father and threaten her life.
Sheriff Chance Meadowlark is still haunted by the murder of his wife and the revenge he unleashed in the name of justice. When he meets Lacy he is determined not to become involved, but their pasts may make that impossible. As they move closer to the truth, saving Lacy may be his only salvation.
Lacy begins to think the present is more important than her past...until Chance's connection to her mother and a murder spin her deeper into danger and further from love. Will the truth destroy Lacy and Chance or will it be the answer that frees them?

Buy Links:
TWRP http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=726&zenid=d06039eba05c5b010fb8a707eecd4259

AMAZON http://www.amazon.com/Art-Love-Murder-Brenda-Whiteside-ebook/dp/B00K0N0Y6M/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1399254400&sr=1-1&keywords=the+art+of+love+and+murder

You can find Brenda: Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.
Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhiteside
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2 
She blogs on the 9th and 24th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com
She blogs about writing and prairie life at http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Welcome, Brenda Whiteside, to Dishin' It Out

Coming up with titles for my books is usually work. Once in a while, I get inspired part way into the writing process. Truthfully, the norm is a hair pulling battle once the book is completed. Amanda in the Summer was totally different. I STARTED with the title. A piece of paper, folded, put the random words together and my imagination took flight. Growing up, I loved writing letters so telling this story with the use of letters written by three generations of women was so much fun. From a reader’s point of view, it’s a bit like peeping into the private life of these women. They share so much with their close friend, Tilly. Letters are a private communication so the reader is getting an up close and personal view of the lives of each woman that even the other women do not see.

Three generations of women…and the secret that strengthens their love.

A line of women, all named Amanda, stretches back for generations. Each with her hopes, her joys, her pain—each pouring out her heart in correspondence with a dear family friend who shares their lives, understands their loves, and joins in their sorrows.

But within the correspondence lies a secret. And as the youngest of the Amandas retraces the journey through the years—beginning in post-war America and following through to modern day—the letters reveal, layer by layer, the Amandas who came before her. Soon, the truths and lies hidden in the letters lead her down a path of self-discovery that forges a bond between her past and future.

The letters span fifty-seven years, 1947 to 2004.

Excerpt:

August 24, 1968

Dear Tilly,

A few days of bliss with no one to talk to but the seagulls. I have you to thank for this. I’m so glad you popped back after Amanda, Robert, and Mother left. The strain I put on all of us while you were here would’ve dragged on for who knows how long if you hadn’t returned. Once again, Tilly, you read the tea leaves and righted thing.

My moods have been so ragged of late. Jealousy of all things. Jealous that you could talk to my daughter, get along so lovely with her, which I’ve had difficulty doing these last few months. Jealous of your longer running friendship with Robert than with me. I’m not sure if I was jealous of him or you. You’re both mine. And angry that the two of you are uncomfortable around each other after so many years and not making sense of that. When Robert left, I tried to give him the blue swimsuit you had left behind and asked him to drop in on you to return it. He said no, I could do it when I got back. This was so unlike him and did more to unsettle me...

Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.

Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9^th and 24^th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about prairie life and writing at http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/