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Chocolate Fondue by Martha Reynolds - The follow-up to Martha's Chocolate for Breakfast is something I've been eager to read since I knew it existed. What the Dog Ate by Jackie Bouchard - Any book that starts with a dog eating a pair of panties and cluing its owner into her husband's extramarital affair is a must-read for me. Royal Secrets by Kathleen Irene Paterka - I'm fascinated by anything "royal." Plus, I love Kathleen's books, and I'm sure this one will follow the rule.
Blame It On the Fame by Tracie Banister - Loved In Need Of Therapy; can't wait to read another book by Banister.
Orfan by Corie Skolnick - Not a fluffy chick-lit read, I've been warned, but every once in a while I read something different, and from what I've heard, this is worth stepping out of my comfort zone. The best part about this, other than the fact that it's finished, is that I LOVE this blurb. In the fifth installment of Brea Brown’s much-beloved series, the lovably flawed "secret keeper," Peyton Northam, suspects the people closest to her are keeping some pretty big things from her. If you'd like to contact her for her services, which include a full range of creative content production, not just blurbs, use the links below. Francine LaSala (talented, funny, inspirational, awesome) is blog-sitting for me while I'm gone. When I get back from vacation, I'm going to hit the rewrites and final editing of The Secret Keeper Lets Go so hard that you're going to hear it crying all the way around the world. While I'm lying on the beach with my David Gandy-lookalike husband, I plan to think of all kinds of fun things to rant write about on here. So that's just a quick dowload of what to expect from me in the next two weeks (pretty much, nothing) and beyond (TSK Lets Go, all summer long). So just imagine how awful it would be if I were traditionally published and had to conform to the industry’s timeline. This time, though, I went with the new-to-me option of having my book available for pre-order.
Anyway, when I regain my breath, I go through this whole crazy stream-of-consciousness internal rant, like, "Oh, my gosh. I've just delivered the full manuscript of The Secret Keeper Fulfilled to beta readers, so it's only fair all readers of the series get a taste of what's to come in the sixth and final book in the series. Four-year-old Max informs me at high volume and maximum whine that his nearly-three-year-old brother, Harris, is eating his cereal with his hands. Holding a hungry, increasingly-impatient eight-week-old Addison in one arm, I give the anti-Norman-Rockwell tableau barely more than a glance as I retrieve a pre-made baby bottle from the fridge. Brice steps over the puddle of milk on his way into the kitchen and says dully, “Good morning. Before the formula’s even warm, Brice returns to the kitchen, having made short work of de-stickifying and dressing our oldest child. The response to my health crisis and recovery has been nearly as overwhelming and daunting as the recovery itself.
When yet another sigh is the only answer his latest inquiry into my health receives, he suggests, “Why don’t you have Mom come over and sit with Addi and Aidan, so you only have to keep track of the older boys? He chases a raisin around the bottom of the bowl with his spoon, finally capturing it and shaking it into the center of the utensil. My near-curse in the presence of the kids fetches a warning look over the rim of the cereal bowl as Brice drinks his milk like an overgrown kid. He smiles at the baby’s noises and taps his wedding ring against the side of the ceramic mug.
With Addi on my shoulder for another round of burping, I approach the table and shoo Brice and Max toward the garage. Not helping matters, Max shoots his left-behind brothers a smug smile while his dad slides the straps of his backpack up his wiry arms. He gives a final, limp wave before descending the stairs into the garage and pulling the door shut behind him. In a few minutes, you'll meet nurse Nate Bingham in the sneak peek I'll be sharing below, but first, a much-needed update on what's going on, since I haven't posted anything on here since Thanksgiving.
In addition to revisions and rewrites and edits to Let's Be Frank, I started the sixth--and what will likely be the last--book in the Secret Keeper series. That depressing news aside, I have started TSK VI (no title yet), and so far, it's fun getting reacquainted with the Northams, the Stratfords, and the members of Peace Lutheran.
After a thorough look around in the ten-year-old’s mouth, I pull back and turn off the otoscope. The near-pleading in their matching green eyes prompts me to immediately reply with a reassuring smile, “No. I grin and turn to head in the direction of the doctor’s office, bumping into the woman, herself, on her way past with her eyes down on a handful of charts. I follow her and close the door behind me, since we’ll be discussing confidential information.
In order to see as many patients as possible at the clinic, nurses and nurse practitioners see the patients Dr. After I give her the spiel about Harry Webster, the doctor comes to the exact conclusion I predicted she would, then says abruptly, “Hey.
She smiles at my obtuseness and rapidly clicks her pen, leaning back and rocking in her chair. Relief regarding the neat resolution to our recent failed real estate transaction renders me giddy. The medical community here in Green Bay is a relatively small one, so she knows my older brother, the enigmatic thoracic surgeon, Dr.
Now, I realize how ridiculous I must have seemed to her and sweat for a completely different reason. With that overt dismissal, I slip into the hallway, feeling oddly lighter and heavier at the same time. To Harry, I direct while tapping the tube against my palm, “Stop licking doorknobs, alright, Bud? Again, with no time to contemplate the odd proclivities of young boys, I let it drop and simply wish them a good afternoon.

Smiling tightly, I back away from her and snatch the next patient folder from the tray by the waiting room door. I also don’t dignify that question with a response but open the waiting room door to call the next patient.
It all started, ironically enough, with my desire to improve the formatting in the second book in the Secret Keeper series.
Most days, when I describe myself as an indie author, the word, "indie," connotes independence, pride in my work, and ultimate control of my success. There's nothing like good Brit Chick Lit to help one recover from a stressful couple of weeks. I needed to write my own blurbs a few times (slum it) so that I'd have a better understanding and appreciation for people like Francine. And she didn't use a single curse word when I kept suggesting changes (not because the writing was anything less than stellar, but because I'm a Picky Parker). And I can say that without being an insufferable braggart (at least this time around), because I didn't write it.
And Immodium A-D (They sort of go hand-in-hand, anyway.) And husbands who not only take on all the parenting and housework but somehow manage to make themselves and their youngest offspring invisible for a week and don't express a bit of resentment over this (I'm boldly predicting the future here, based on historical events). I know there are a few of you out there who believe I can do this, and that means a lot to me.
I mean, it is, since I'm obviously writing words and posting them, but it's not like it's something I gave a lot of thought to and said, "Hey, I should write on my blog about that." It's more of a placeholder and an information vehicle to keep you abreast (I love that word) of a few things going on and, frankly, to make sure you don't forget about me.
I know, I'm supposed to be relaxing, but brainstorming about writing is relaxing to me, so back off! In his righteous indignation, Max dips his elbow in his own cereal bowl, sending milk and granola bits flying. Peace held a 24-hour prayer vigil while I was comatose, with people taking shifts to pray for me. And go somewhere they can wear themselves out… Like the pool or one of those bounce places. Finishing, he reaches behind himself and puts his dirty dishes in the sink, earning him an equally severe look from me. Brooks and Harris run to the dining room, where they jockey for position at the window, so they can watch Brice back from the driveway and give them his daily wave and short horn-honk (which I’m sure the neighbors love). It's Christmas Eve, and between threatening my almost-four-year-old with no Santa and watching every single cartoon Christmas special available on Netflix, I'm also still hard at work, trying to get my ninth novel, Let's Be Frank fit for publication in early 2014. When you read the book, you'll appreciate it even more than I'm sure you already do (since it's awesome), because it fits the story and the protagonist of the story so well. We'll be meeting plenty of new people in this book, and Peyton and Brice will be experiencing lots of fresh challenges. Then I prop one butt cheek on the edge of the paper-covered examination table and shoot a sympathetic wince at the boy’s mom.
It’s not her fault kids share gum and always have their hands in their noses and mouths, sometimes in quick succession.
She rounds her desk and sits in her high-backed leather chair, closing her eyes and rolling her head on her neck. Her house was all wrong for me, from the wall-to-wall carpeting to the in-ground pool in the backyard, everything was too… perfect.
Why don’t you spout some interesting statistics about the negative health effects of divorce on the average fifty-something-year-old professional woman?
I wear a lot of hats, especially when it comes to my writing "career." If I don't do it, it basically doesn't get done (great grammar there, huh?). I also wanted to provide readers a preview of the third book in the series following the end of the second book. And I'd know she's worth every single penny (and a million more) than I paid for her fuss-free services.
By the way, did you know it's so much easier to take what someone else has spent hours and hours crafting and change a word here and there than it is to actually come up with something out of thin air?
She'd always thought this would be a welcome relief, but instead finds it frustrating and hurtful to always be the last to know everything. And sisters who, despite full-time jobs and part-time school and kids of their own, host nephews during that critical pre-launch week.
Now, if any of you are scientists and know how to clone humans (namely, me), please contact me ASAP. I have four days to do countless loads of laundry, pack for three children (who will be shipped off to the in-laws'), pack for myself (my husband's on his own), and lose fifty pounds. Reaching over me to pull down a box of cereal from the cabinet next to my head, he lightly kisses the back of my neck. But the mere thought of such an event in my honor, while I slept, oblivious, just a few miles away in a hospital room, threatens to smother me more effectively than a pillow to the face. Aidan follows slightly more uncertainly but eventually gets there, too, just in time to wave his dad and brother off. Anyone who's ever struggled through house renovations will be able to relate to one of those challenges, for sure.
Early readers (thank you sooo much Martha, Hans, Amy, Bethany, Sharon, Laura, and Vickie!) liked him a lot, even the times they wanted to strangle him.
As a pediatric nurse, I see stuff like this all the time, so it doesn’t gross me out as much as it would the average person, I guess.
Sorry about that,” I say to her while she blinks comically, holding onto my forearm for balance. Standing with the desk between us, I clutch Harry’s chart close to my body, in the crook of my arm, and give her a lowdown of the situation. Between us?” She flaps her hand over the desk, as if the piece of furniture is the issue.
I spend a lot of weekends staining and painting, but I have nothing else to do, so DIY is a good way to pass the time. Reitman has never been anything but professional and friendly and fair to me, in my six years working here.

Back in the exam room, I glove up, apologize for keeping Harry and his mom waiting, and swab the boy’s throat. And I can do it at a nice, leisurely pace that allows for plenty of time with my beloved Netflix account and to get caught up on all the books on my Kindle.
I'd be able to read so many books, watch so many English period dramas, and hang out with so many more imaginary friends! Read the blurb now to get an idea of what's in store in The Secret Keeper Lets Go, arriving on Amazon June 30, 2013. Although, I had a nightmare about cloning myself recently, so maybe that's not the answer here. Unless I get stuck during the writing process, but even then, it’s less about waiting and more about enduring. It’s the bridge to the next part of their story (yes, there will be at least one more book after Book 5). This is my tenth time publishing, so I was really used to the old (not-so-cool and not-so-effective) way of releasing a book. Neither of us has had a full night of sleep in months (unless you count that six-day sleep I took back in June, which wasn’t as restful as it may sound). If I had been aware of it while it was happening, I probably would have been hesitant to ever wake up. These pajamas are headed for the hamper as soon as I get a chance to get dressed (which, admittedly, may not be for several hours), so I’m not concerned about spit-up. After all, I just finished my Master of Nursing (I love how that sounds… Nate Bingham, Master of Nursing!) less than six months ago. You know, your house was too big for one person,” I feel beholden to explain, then immediately regret saying.
Even that time I accidentally shot blood across the room when I forgot to release the tourniquet before removing the needle during a blood draw.
When there's a snafu, though, like there was this week with my book, The Secret Keeper Confined, it's not pretty. And it was all going according to plan until the gremlin inside the computer at Amazon (or somewhere between my laptop and there) decided to delete everything except the chapter headings about one-third of the way into the book.
And Francine came up with my blurb out of thin air in the presence of children, with "Full House" playing in the background.
So I keep remembering that launch day is still ahead of me, and it brings on the heave-y jeevies.
I know that much from the stories he and Vince love to trade late into the night while I doze nearby.
I hope you love him, too, and are excited to read his story in its entirety when I publish it early next year (keep an eye on Facebook and Twitter for a more specific date soon).
Webster the name of the ear, nose, and throat clinic she can expect to hear from in the next few days.
Luckily, I discovered this very quickly after the new version went "live." Unfortunately, there seemed to be nothing immediate I could do about it. I'm usually one of those instant-gratification writers who formats the books, uploads it to Amazon, and hits "publish" right away, then sits there tappping my toe until Amazon tells me it's live and ready for purchase. But if Brice is going to quiz me about the particulars of those tales, I’m in trouble. So I ran in circles like a person with her hair on fire, forgetting everything I'd ever been told about stop, drop, and roll.
Fortunately, I have plenty of ideas that have been patiently waiting for the Northams to stop monopolizing my attention. Just pretend you're me and have all the useless information that's crammed in my head crammed into your head. At the same time, Peyton's ever-developing drive to do the right thing is hampering her ability to keep certain secrets. Well, multiply that feeling by about a million (give or take), and that's how I feel right now as my vacation looms. I've already bought both of her books and have read them and raved about them (Rita Hayworth's Shoes and The Girl, the Gold Tooth & Everything are fantastic! Now, she may have to let go of a confidence that has been nagging at her conscience for years.
I'd also like to revisit a story I started a couple of years ago, but I think it requires a research trip to the UK.
And I think I've finally come to terms with the fact that I'm never going to be a cool person. I don't have my finger on the big red button in the Pentagon (or wherever that big red button is).
I might change my mind and decide to write the series into the ground, because that's easier than saying goodbye to all those characters who are so real to me now.
The story really will require that trip, and I really would like to write it, but I don't think that's going to be happening any time soon.
Please, make Francine feel welcome and post a lot of nice comments in reply to whatever she decides to post, which I'm totally not worried at all about, because I'm not a Type-A control freak in any way, shape, or form. And when I was truly finished with the final edit and the formatting, I wanted so badly to hit "publish" right then and share it with the world, like I always do. There are too many good books waiting for me on my Kindle for me to suffer through a crappy book.
I hope I can end the series on a high note, while I--and readers--still love the characters and their stories. I don't want to keep writing when I'm bored with the series, because that will show in the writing. People are pre-ordering at a steady rate, and I'm determined to see this through like a professional.

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