Promo- ALL I NEED IS YOU

 

All I Need is You by Wendy S. Marcus is releasing October 6th. Check it out!

 

 

 
As a dancer who creates mesmerizing visions onstage, Neve James is looking for the same kind of stability in her love life. Her pen pal, Rory McRoy, is on leave from deployment in Afghanistan, so she heads to Boston to surprise him. After corresponding for months as part of a “Support Our Troops” initiative—and exchanging dozens of “Read When You’re Alone” letters—Neve knows what Rory likes, and she intends to fulfill his every fantasy. But all they get are a few blissful moments together before they’re interrupted by a woman claiming to be Rory’s fiancée. Rory has fallen hard for Neve’s letters. When he finally meets her in person, he has to have her, right then and there—until Neve takes off in a fit of anger. Forced to return to Afghanistan before he can fix things between them, Rory waits four agonizing months to prove that he’s not the man Neve thinks he is. But by the time he arrives in New York, she’s already made up her mind. Luckily, Rory never backs down from a challenge, and he’s prepared to put everything on the line for love.

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Wendy S. Marcus is an award-winning author of contemporary romance. A nurse by trade, Wendy holds a Master of Science in Health Care Administration, a degree that does her absolutely no good as she now spends her days, nights, and weekends mucking around in her characters’ lives creating conflict, emotion, and of course, a happily ever after. Wendy lives in the beautiful Hudson Valley region of New York. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, which includes her dog Buddy, and blogging/e-mailing/tweeting/facebooking with her online friends.  

 

Find Wendy: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram | Newsletter

 

   

Excerpt

November 16, 2011

Dear SPC McRoy, My name is Neve (rhymes with leave) Jaimes. My best friend Brooke tells me that due to a mix-up in the soldier bios approved for NYS Governor Howard’s Support Our Troops Initiative, you’re in the market for a pen pal. As luck would have it, with cold winter weather fast approaching here in New York, I’m in the market for some indoor activities to fill my time. Sitting by a warm fire, writing letters, works for me. I doubt I can be as entertaining as a class full of hyped-up-on-sugar third-graders, but I’ll do my best. Soooo . . . what are you looking for in a pen pal? I’ve never done this sort of thing before, and I’d hate to screw it up. You want someone to keep you up to date on news and happenings back in the U.S.? Sports scores and highlights? Of course I’ll send out some care packages. Anything specific you want/need? I make a pretty good peanut brittle, if I do say so myself. Can I send packages with food to a U.S. Army base in Afghanistan? While I’m waiting to hear back from you, I’ll look that up. I’m an up-for-anything kind of girl. So if you’re missing female companionship and think some sexy letters might help you to, uh, “pass the time,” I’ve got a pretty active imagination, and I’m happy to put it to work for you. Do you find the idea of a stranger offering to send you sexy letters shocking? Good, I’d rather be shocking than boring. Am I coming on too strong? I can tone it down . . . if you insist. But where’s the fun in that? Ummm, probably now, before I fire off some letters meant to arouse, is a good time to confirm there’s no girlfriend/fiancée/special someone waiting for you somewhere. Only because if my guy were serving overseas and some random woman started sending him lust-filled letters, that’d definitely piss me off. Although my guy wouldn’t need another woman’s letters because I’d be sending him all he could possibly want. But you get my point . . . right? And you’re not one of those amoral dog types who would cheat on his girl by engaging in any type of sexual interaction with another woman, are you, Rory? I’ve had too many dealings with that sort of guy, a particularly unpleasant experience very recently as a matter of fact. It ended with the rat bastard needing four stitches. (An unfortunate accident. Really.) I just reread that last part and I sound like a nut job. I’m not. More like I’ve exceeded my limit of male bullshit for the year. So I’m taking a break from dating, which gives me lots of time to spend on you! If you want me to spend time on you, that is. Let me tell you some stuff about me to help you decide. I’m a twenty-four-year-old, happily single gymnastics instructor who lives in Westchester County, New York. But my real passion is adagio, a combination of intimate dance moves that includes acrobatics and acro-balance. My partner and I perform across the Northeast, but if the money’s good we’ll travel anywhere. When I’m not working or performing I’m usually at the gym. In the warmer weather I like to run outside, almost always with my overprotective older (by six months—it’s a long story) brother, who’s a cop, by the way. My favorite food: Grilled chicken with avocado spread on whole grain bread. Favorite non-alcoholic drink: Water. Favorite alcoholic drink: Margaritas. Love them! Favorite color: A deep rich purple. Favorite edible treat: Dark chocolate covered almonds. Favorite part of the male anatomy: A full set of lips. *wink* I’m enclosing a picture of what men seem to find their favorite part of my anatomy, something for you to visualize if/when I should come to mind. If you want to write back, Brooke set up a PO box. The address is on the envelope. If something has changed, and you’ve found another pen pal or no longer want one (or don’t want me in particular), no biggie. Either way, take care, stay safe, and be well, Neve  

November 26, 2011

Dear Neve, First off, please call me Rory (rhymes with story. Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Or Mic. We’re big on nicknames over here and that’s mine. Thank you for your letter. I got it yesterday, which was the day after Thanksgiving. They try to do it up big here, to make the day special, but it’s not the same as being at home. And I was in a funk, thinking about my family and friends, all together at our pub, everyone there but me, stuffing themselves on Mom’s delicious turkey, Aunt Jackie’s honeyed ham, cousin Barbara’s mashed potatoes, and our neighbor Abigail’s macaroni and cheese, which is the best I’ve ever tasted. Damn it, now I’ve got my mouth watering again. Anyhow, your letter came at the right time to cheer me up and give me something else to think about. Like the picture you sent. Hot damn. That had to be the finest female butt I’ve ever seen in a skimpy purple bikini bottom . . . or any bikini bottom for that matter. In fact it’s so perfect the guys are convinced you’re trying to catfish me—you know, sub someone else’s pic for your own. How about we prove them wrong? Send me another picture, a full body shot this time. In that same bikini would be my preference. To answer your question, I don’t know anyone who would call me amoral. But a dog? There, uh, may be one or two girls from my past who think so. But I’m a guy, and any guy who tells you he’s never in his life exhibited some doggish behavior is a liar. One thing I am not is a liar. That said, when I’m in a relationship, I don’t cheat. Lucky for me, I’ve got no girlfriend or special someone at the moment. And being of high moral character—if I do say so myself—I would certainly have told you—without you having to ask—if I did. So if you’re up for writing me some sexy letters (and hell yeah, the hotter the better!) I’m more than okay with reading them. For sure I like the entertainment you’re offering a helluva lot more than any entertainment I could have gotten from a classroom of third-graders. Now, about me. My bio probably told you I’m a twenty-three-year-old Southie from Beantown. (Translation: From South Boston.) My family owns and runs an Irish pub there, McRoy’s. My mom, dad, and three brothers all live above it. I’m the oldest. Been working at that bar for as long as I can remember. Couldn’t wait to get the hell out. As soon as I graduated high school I went straight into the army. I’m six weeks into a twelve-month combat deployment, and I can tell I’ll be seeing a lot more fighting this time around. I’ve already decided this tour of duty will be my last. I only hope I survive it. On a happier note . . . what I’m looking for in a pen pal? Someone to take my mind off all the shit happening here—and so far you’re doing a bang-up job. Tell me about your day. Share the story of why you and your brother are only six months apart. Tell me about your childhood, your teen years, and your dreams for the future. Tell me about the loser who needed stitches. Talk dirty to me. I think we’re pretty evenly matched in the pen pal department. I just happen to be an up-for-anything kind of guy. I don’t shock easily. So give me all you got. I can handle it. Care packages? I’m happy to get whatever you want to send. Favorite food: My dad’s corned beef and cabbage. Favorite non-alcoholic beverage: Lemon-lime sports drinks. Favorite alcoholic beverage: Guinness Draught. Favorite color: At this point anything that isn’t tan or green. New favorite treat: Peanut brittle. Favorite part of the female anatomy: (I’m laughing because you have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here trying to decide.) A butt that looks like the one in the picture you sent is certainly high on my list. Especially if it tops off a nice set of toned legs, which I bet you have since you’re a gymnast/dancer. But for some reason I am really attracted to a woman’s feet. Not in a toe-sucking, fetish kind of way. But if a woman takes care of her feet, she probably takes good care of the rest of her. I like small, feminine feet with painted toenails. Part of the reason I love summer so much is for the opportunity to see women’s feet in pretty sandals. Okay. I sound like a creeper. But I’m not. Really. In my downtime I like to work with my hands, building things or repairing stuff. I run when the mood hits, which it doesn’t often. But I think chasing after you might be fun. See, something nice to think about for a change. Well, I gotta go. Time for lunch, then some training stuff. Send out your letters as often as you like. Please don’t wait to hear back from me. Sometimes things get crazy, but I’ll do my best to stay in touch. It’ll help if you’d include your e-mail address in your next letter. Rory