Hot Nights in St Blaise ~ June is Bustin' Out

M.E.: Macy’s back! Whoo hoo! Today we get to pump her for more information about Bustin’ Out All Over – the sixth book in the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series by Maggie Wells. Welcome back, Macy.
Macy: Thanks, Madison. I’m excited to be back.
M.E.: Tell us about Terri and Quentin.
Macy: Well, as I mentioned last month, Terri and Quent are about as polar opposite as two people can be. Terri is a small-town cheerleader whose dreams of bigger and better things keep getting squashed. Quentin is the hometown nerd turned internet mogul. Terri is built like one of those nineteen-fifty’s bombshells, and likely half the reason for the calendar’s success. Quentin is your typical beanpole, and definitely responsible for making a tiny-town fundraiser go viral.

Here’s the setup:
Terri Ecklund wishes she’d never agreed to be Miss June. As billing manager for SBRMC, she could appreciate that the damn thing had raised a healthy amount of money to fund hospital improvements, but it also cost her big. She could deal with the sly snickers, crude jokes about her ‘assets’, and the perfect strangers whistling ‘June is Busting Out All Over’, but her boyfriend couldn’t.
When the pro-fisherman she hooked long ago cuts bait and takes the contents of their joint bank account with him, Terri scrambles to patch the pieces of her life back together but not before tearing a strip off the smarty-pants internet genius who set the The Men and Women of St. Blaise Regional Medical Center up to go viral.
Internet millionaire and St. Blaise native Quent Halliday nearly swallowed his tongue when Terri Ecklund, St. Blaise, Missouri’s god-given rebuttal to Pamela Anderson’s plastic surgeon, stormed into his St. Louis office spitting nails over the loss of her almost-fiancĂ©.
Drawn to the sparks flying from her eyes and the lure of her bountiful curves, clever Quent knows the opportunity of a lifetime when he sees it. Without hesitation he drops everything to chase after the girl of his fantasies, and when he catches her, they’re both shocked to discover he may just be the man of her dreams.

And here’s a snapshot:
“It won’t matter if I take the ad down, Terri. It’s out there now. Beth called to thank me and to tell me a reporter from the Post-Dispatch is running a feature on the calendar and its participants. The story was picked up by the AP this morning. It’s on all the feeds. You have YouTube fan videos dedicated to you.”
She blinked, clearly bewildered. “I do?”
“Well, one,” he said with a shrug. “I think some guys up at Mizzou put it together. Not bad. Good graphics. The song sucked but I’m not much into rap.”
“A video? What am I doing in the video? How did they get video of me?”
“It’s not footage but a montage of pictures and crap they pulled off the web.”
“Pictures of me on the web?”
The blend of innocence and seduction radiating from her was driving him crazy, pulling him in like a tractor beam while repelling him like a force field. Tossing the files aside, he leaned forward in his chair and went straight for the motherboard.
“The fact of the matter is, Jason never intended to marry you, Terri.” She flinched as if he’d slapped her. When she opened her mouth to retort, they both knew she had no argument. “He used you. He let you work to support him while he wriggled his way into the Bass Masters circuit, but once he started getting sponsors he didn’t need you too much anymore, did he? Oh, I think he liked getting his picture taken with a big fish in each hand.”
Lines of mortification creased her pretty face. He winced and looked away. Someone had to tell her the way it was, and since she came into his office prepared to hate him anyway, Quent figured it may as well be him. His stomach twisted. He pressed one hand to his gut and took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the skyline beyond his windows. “I guess everyone saw it coming but you.”
“You don’t get it. I tried to talk some sense into him, but those jerk-offs on the tour sing ‘June Is Bustin’ Out All Over’ every damn time I walk by. It makes Jason crazy when anyone gets more attention than he does, especially me.” He snorted in agreement but she didn’t pause to commiserate. “You made this thing go viral, so now I need you to pull the ad and do whatever voodoo you do,” she waggled her fingers at his computer screens, “to make it go away. Jason is fishing up in Wisconsin next weekend, and if I can just get him alone for five minutes I know we can come to an understanding.”
“An understanding,” he repeated, mesmerized.
“I’m the woman wronged here. If anyone is dumping anyone, I get to dump him, damn it.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this right...You want to tank the calendar campaign so you can break up with a guy who has already broken up with you?”
“He owes me,” she insisted. “I did everything he asked me to. I put up with living with my mama so we would have money for him to run the circuit. I pushed paper all damn day and served drinks every Friday and Saturday night since I turned twenty-one.” Stubborn determination set her jaw in a hard line. “He promised me a house. He promised that if I got a good job and took good care of him he’d marry me. All I wanted was a pretty little house with a pretty little yard. All I wanted was for people to stop looking at me like I’m nothing more than trailer trash. I am not my mama!” She clamped a hand to her mouth, her eyes growing round as saucers. “I didn’t mean that,” she whispered through her fingers.
He nodded. “I know.” 

M.E.: Oh, I think I’m going to like these two together.
Macy: They are quite the pair when you get right down to it.
M.E.: It sounds like Terri landed a big fish.
Macy: She did, but she didn’t land the whale.
M.E.: The whale?
Macy: Dr. Mario Debrizzio, Pediatrician. St. Blaise’s answer to George Clooney, but this one can cook.
M.E.: He sounds delicious.
Macy: Sophie Bernard thinks so. You can read all about them next month.
M.E.: Yum! Meanwhile, Bustin’ Out All Over by Maggie Wells is available in all ebook formats at the Turquoise Morning Press bookstore or your favorite online retailer. For more information on the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series, readers can visit


Hi. I'm Madison and I'm addicted to Facebook games.

Every morning I take my coffee into my office, turn on my computer and have all the best intentions to write. But first I'll check all my e-mail accounts, and some loops are a chatty bunch. When my correspondence is up to date I sometimes check Twitter.

Do I start to write after this. Sadly, no. I log into Facebook and no one sees me for about an hour.

Okay, I lied.

They don't see me for over three hours... maybe more. I love FB, but it's a serious time drain. About three hours has passed and I finally open my document, re-reading what I've already written, find mistakes and begin editing.

"No, no, no," I hear you say. "Never edit an unfinished document. It keeps you from moving forward. Get the words on the page, finish the manuscript, THEN edit."

You are so smart.

As you can see, I have bad writing (or non-writing) habits and they must be broken.

To this end I've decided to go cold turkey. There will be no FB patch to wear. And if I go into the DT's and with shaking fingers long to accept the happy requests to play Candy Crush, Words With Friends or Chefville I'll have to remind myself that the story won't write itself.

I'm doing this for my family.

The second step of restructuring my writing, is to spew verbiage on the page. The good, the bad and the ugly. NO EDITING until I'm done.

All games have been removed from my Facebook account. Gah! I've re-instituted the 'carry a notebook' for ideas, and have warned my husband he will probably forget what I look like, but I'm going to finish the DAMN book!

'They' say it takes twenty-one days to start a new habit.

Today is Day One.

I'll miss you.....


This was how I wrote about my weekend at the Lori Foster Annual Reader Author Get Together on Twitter for two straight days. Loads of fun. I met a ton of authors and had the most interesting conversations with readers.

My mini iPad was put to good use.
My fellow Turquoise Morning Press authors were crazy as usual, and although limited with how much I could stand/walk - they brought the party to me. Thank you.
TMP books and authors

Here are all of Turquoise Morning Press' books, available at the conference and we were all there to sign them, which was a blast.

Renee Vincent in all her Viking Glory
Wendi Zwaduk and M.E. using patio lanterns as Big Balls, singing "I love Big Balls, and cannot lie..." Come on. Admit it - you hear the song in your head now, don't you?

Margaret Ethridge, Kim Jacobs and M.E.

All in all it was a fab weekend. I love meeting readers. You are what makes writing worth while. Thank you.

Hot Nights in St. Blaise ~ Mr. Mayhem

M.E.: I’m so excited to welcome Macy Beck, the woman behind the lens, and the artistic genius responsible for the ultra-hot Men and Women of St. Blaise Regional Medical Center fundraising calendar. 
Macy: Ooh! Artistic genius. I like that. 
M.E.: You’re the woman who posed hunky Pathologist, Marc Mayhew, in nothing but elastic tubing and a syringe cap caught between his teeth. 
Macy: You’re right. I am a genius. Too bad you couldn’t see the parts I had to hide. 
M.E.: Now you’re trying to make me cry. 
Macy: Well, before you get too weepy, I should clarify that I’m not the lucky woman who gets to go home to him each night. 
M.E.: Last month you mentioned a lab technician? 
Macy: Melanie. Now there’s a girl who defies packaging. To look at her, you’d think she was nothing but a bubble-headed Barbie doll, but she’s a savvy one, our Mel. She saw the man she wanted and she set out to get him. Poor Marc never stood a chance.
Here’s the setup:
      Lab tech Melanie Curtis claims Dr. Marc Mayhew’s shy smile won her vote for Mr. May, but the fact is she’s been aching to get a taste of the delicious Pathologist’s mochachino skin since the moment she set eyes on him. 
      Quiet and reserved, Marc was happy to take refuge in his research until she walked into his lab. He tried to ignore the attraction that sparked and sizzled each time she drew near, all too aware of the strict edicts issued by the hospital’s Human Resources department, but he couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t mind subjugating himself to his bossy little subordinate. Over and over again. 
      The only variable he couldn’t predict was how far Melanie was willing to go to get the results she expected. When she tests his mettle, Marc finds he’s more than willing to risk everything on a case of chemistry run amok if it means he can claim her as his. For keeps.
And here’s the snapshot:
      Anticipation simmered in her belly as she unlocked the door. Bracing herself between the casing and the seven foot panel of solid wood, she was careful to keep her expression neutral when she looked up. “Hello.” 
      “Hey.” The porch light danced across the lenses of his glasses as his husky greeting drifted away on a warm spring breeze. His shirt was half-unbuttoned. The warm glow of feminine satisfaction flared to life in her belly when she realized those buttons were missing. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets but those long, talented fingers still curled and flexed, stretching the wrinkled cotton twill to its limits. “I’m sorry, I got…distracted,” he confessed, a sheepish smile twitching the corners of his mouth. 
      Curling her fingers around the edge of the door, she leaned against the jamb, subtly blocking his entrance until she felt appeased. “I figured.” 
      He thrust a grease stained paper bag at her. “I brought you beef and bean burritos.” 
      She accepted his offering with a solemn nod. “Thank you.” 
      Heaving a heavy sigh, he let his shoulders slump. “Mel, I…I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. I don’t even know why I did, other than the fact that I don’t like secrets. I guess I have kind of a chip on my shoulder about…things. Bad experience…And I don’t want to be anyone’s token.” He turned away and sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head as he let it go little by little. “I’d tell you it’s me and not you, but that sounds even stupider in this situation.”
     Chuckling, she set the take-out bag on the hall table and pivoted just enough to grant him an opening. A very small one, but an opening nonetheless. “Do you want to come in?”
     A smile flittered across his lips, disappearing as fast as it came. He inclined his head and the movement caused his glasses to slip a bit. Snatching them from his nose, he folded them into his hand and murmured a gruff, “Thank you,” as he brushed past her.
     He stood in her foyer, tall and fidgety, a live wire turned loose in her life. The man was the embodiment of kinetic energy, wrapped up rumpled and delicious, just for her. She cocked her head and crossed her arms over her chest, making it clear she wasn’t going to let him off the hook entirely. Watching him squirm made her hot. She wanted to enjoy it a little longer.
     Her gaze fell to his big feet and she stifled a smirk when she recalled the exact proportions of the so-not-a-pair-of-big-socks he kept tucked away in his Dockers. A hum of appreciation tickled her throat as she traced the line of his body from slim hips to broad shoulders. His chin tipped up when he rolled his shoulders back, standing a little straighter for inspection. A smile curved her lips. Her gaze lingered on his mouth for a moment before rising to meet his dark eyes.
     Their gazes locked and held and everything stilled. Marc stilled. The disconcerting lack of…anything flowing between them threw her off balance. He blinked, but the sweep of curling lashes barely stirred the eerie calm that fell over them. His Adam’s apple bobbed and the line of his jaw tightened. She held her breath, waiting for something to break the spell.
     “You don’t get to call all the shots.”
     His voice came low and soft, wrapping around her ankles like smoke and wafting over her. Staring into his ebony eyes, it was impossible to pretend she didn’t know exactly what he meant. Precious oxygen seeped from her lungs. Wrinkling her forehead in concentration, she focused on dragging air back in.
     “I don’t mind you callin’ some of them. Like what happened earlier…” His drawl deepened, flowing thick and rich as molasses over the rough edges of a raspy laugh. “As a matter of fact, I like a woman with a take-charge attitude.” She looked up and her heart skipped a beat. He stared straight at her, sparkles of laughter shining bright in his eyes, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But make no mistake, if you happen to be taking charge of me, it’s because I let you.”
M.E.: Pardon me while I get something cold to drink. 
Macy: Told ya so. And if you think that was hot, wait until you read what he did the following Monday morning. 
M.E.: I think you’re trying to kill me. 
Macy: Nope, just making sure you’re paying attention. Now next month, you’re in for a treat. 
M.E.: We are? 
Macy: Two people everyone thought had nothing in common. But I knew better. You don’t spend half your life peering through a lens and not know that looks can be deceiving.
M.E.: Now I’m really intrigued. So next month you’ll give us a glimpse at Miss June, but for now, Mr. Mayhem by Maggie Wells is available in all ebook formats at the Turquoise Morning Press bookstore or your favorite online retailer. For more information on the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series, readers can visit