Thursday, March 20, 2014

#HardBreak gets 4.5 Stars from @InDTale Magazine

(Deadlines & Diamonds, #5) 
4.5 Stars!

"“Hard Break” hits on every emotion. Readers will be crying, laughing and hugging their families after reading this fifth installment in the “Deadlines and Diamonds” series. ... The storyline gently introduces each character with uniqueness that immediately captures the reader."

Hard Break is available via Kindle, Nook & other eBook.
Preview Chapter One and Chapter Two

To vote for Hard Break in the RONE Awards, go to: 
OR email and tell her 
"I want to vote for Hard Break by Morgan Kearns for 
Best Contemporary: Artists & Writers."

Thanks for your vote!

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

#RONEAwards Fan Voting for #ShaylasStory by @BeverlyPreston

Shayla's Story by Beverly Preston 
has been nominated for a RONE Award. 

This week (March 17th-23rd) is the FAN VOTING stage. 

Please go to, log in and vote


Shayla's Story by Beverly Preston for 
Best Contemporary: General


And Hard Break by Morgan Kearns for 
Best Contemporary: Artists & Writers.

If you'd rather not join InD'Tale Magazine, you can still vote by emailing and telling her: 
"I want to vote for Shayla's Story by Beverly Preston for 
Best Contemporary: General.
AND I want to vote for Hard Break by Morgan Kearns for 
Best Contemporary: Artists & Writers."
 Thank you for your votes! 
~Beverly & Morgan

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

#RONEAwards Fan Voting for #HardBreak by @MorganKearns

Hard Break (Deadlines & Diamonds, #5) 
by Morgan Kearns
has been nominated for a RONE Award. 

This week (March 17th-23rd) is the FAN VOTING stage. 

Please go to, log in and vote 

Hard Break by Morgan Kearns for 
Best Contemporary: Artists & Writers.


And Shayla's Story by Beverly Preston for 
Best Contemporary: General

If you'd rather not join InD'Tale Magazine, you can still vote by emailing and telling her: 
"I want to vote for Hard Break by Morgan Kearns for 
Best Contemporary: Artists & Writers
AND I want to vote for Shayla's Story by Beverly Preston for 
Best Contemporary: General."
Thank you for your votes! 
~Morgan & Beverly

Monday, March 17, 2014


Copyright © 2013 Morgan Kearns

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.


“Oh! Oh! Y-y-yessss!”
Ian McCallister closed his eyes and dug his heels into the mattress. The muscles in his thighs tightened. Hearing Kayla Black reach her pleasure sent Ian spiraling toward his own release.
She was one hell of an amazing woman. A mere brush of her fingertips sent jolts of lightning through his body, scorching him from the inside out.
He gripped the sheets in one hand, bunching the four-hundred count between his fingers, his other smoothing over naked skin.
“Oh. Yes. Leon!”
His eyes popped open. His hand jerked away from his lower abdomen. Another curse hissed passed his lips.
Whipping the sheet away from his torso, he shot to his feet, stalked to the window and slammed it closed—without glancing at the house across the fence.
He was a freakin’ voyeur, getting his rocks off while the woman of his dreams made love to her husband. He plowed his fingers through his hair, grabbing hold of as much as the short strands allowed. He needed to get a freakin’ grip on his sanity.
Stalking through his house, down the stairs and into the kitchen, he stubbed his toe. Twice. Served him right. The second time hurt so bad his eyes watered. At least it lessened the pain bouncing around in his chest.
He blinked into the bright lights of the refrigerator only long enough to register where the beer was. He yanked one bottle free of the cardboard box and clapped the door shut. It plunged the room into darkness. His eyes took another minute or so to focus. It didn’t matter. He saw things clear as day.
Damn letch!
He really should get a life. Get some little barely legal thing hot enough to burn the thought of Kayla Black right out of his brain.
Ian sure as hell didn’t want to feel the way he did for the happily-married, mother of three. And yet, her gentle smile, her kind eyes, her contagious laugh, her body with curves any sportscar craved called to him like no other woman ever had. The icing on the totally effed up cake? The most attractive part of her, was the complete and total adoration she had for—wait for it!—her husband.
The day Ian had moved into this house, right next door to the real-life happily-ever-after, he’d thought she was something. Something really damned special.
He remembered it like yesterday. Whether he wanted to or not. He smiled at the memory of two little kids, a boy and girl, showing up on his doorstep with a plate of cookies.
His doorbell had rung late in the afternoon. He answered it and grinned down at then seven-year-old Chase and four-year-old Sadie.
“Hi, neighbor.” Chase held out the plate.
Sadie stepped forward and stuck out her tiny hand. “I’m Sadie Fern Black and I live next door.”
Ian shook her hand while Chase tried to muscle his way into the attention. “My mom made these cookies. They’re really good. You should probably eat them right now. While they’re still warm.”
“Thanks, man, I’ll do that.” Ian took the plate.
Chase eyeballed the tin-foil-covered plate, licking his lips.
Ian kept his chuckle to himself and made a point to look at the cookies. He frowned hard, pulling his brows into the mix. “I don’t know, guys, this is a lot for just me. Do you think you could help?”
Chase’s, “Yes,” and Sadie’s squeal left no room for misinterpretation.
Ian sat down on the porch steps with a Black on each side and pulled the foil away. Fresh baked chocolate chip. His favorite!
That’s when she’d appeared. Ian had nearly choked on his cookie as a woman with dark, shoulder length hair came out of the house and crossed the gravel separating their houses. She came right up to where they sat. Her smile captured his attention better than any tickertape parade. He knew he stared at her—and couldn’t stop himself.
“You’ve met my munchkins.” She ruffled the blonde hair on Chase’s head. “I’m Kayla.”
As he reached out to take her hand, he knew his life would never be the same.
And now, three years later, he couldn’t get the woman out of his head.
Yes, he really, really, really needed to get himself a life, preferably one where he was hip to hip with a female without Kayla showing up in his head.
He sat at his kitchen table, cracked the seal on his Bud and took a swig. Maybe if he got good and numb, he’d be able to forget about the beautiful communion between man and wife happening right over the block wall.
Ian had tried the prayer thing, tried to plead with a higher power to get her out of his thoughts. He’d even attempted confession. First and only time he’d ever been in a Catholic church. And since there’d been no relief, it’d probably be the last.
Another swig slid its way down his throat. He stared out the bay window into the darkness of his backyard. A full moon showcased the large Mesquite tree, manicured Oleander bushes, and a patch of green grass.
The grass cost him a fortune in water to maintain. Not that he cared. He liked green. Coming from Idaho, where the summers were luke warm and the winters froze a guy’s balls off, Las Vegas, Nevada had taken some getting used to. His grass reminded him of a home that no longer existed.
Damn, he hadn’t thought of the fire, his parents, his…loss in years. Who was he kidding? He’d thought of nothing else through the classes and the exams and filling out the freakin’ application to the Academy. And he’d probably think of little else until the letter came accepting or denying his request.
Swig number three nearly drained the bottle. He lifted it, watching the last bit of liquid swirl through the dark glass. If he didn’t have to be to work in—he glanced at the clock on the microwave and cursed—three hours, he might’ve cracked another bottle. Or three.
Knowing he’d never be able to sleep in his bed, he polished off his beer, recycled the bottle and headed for the couch. He only hoped Kayla stayed out of his dreams. At least for tonight.

Kayla Black loved her husband, loved being loved by her husband. Tonight, though, there’d been something urgent, almost desperate in his taking of her. Not that she minded. She enjoyed when sex was more than a quickie. And sometimes, with three little people living under their roof, sometimes quick—in the laundry room, with tiny knuckles knocking on the door—was the only option.
Still tingling in all the right places, she slipped her nightgown over her head as Leon finished cleaning himself up in the bathroom. That was his way. Never did they snuggle after sex, and falling asleep in his arms adrift on post coital bliss just wasn’t going to happen.
He came out of the bathroom, tugging the hem of his t-shirt down to meet the waistband of his boxers. He didn’t look at her as he rounded the foot of the bed and crawled between the sheets. She sighed, reaching up to turn off the light.
As she lay down, he cuddled in close. But Leon didn’t cuddle. It wasn’t in his nature. Their bed was a California King for a reason. He wanted his space. Usually.
He spooned her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck, not in an erotic way, simply a meeting of lips to flesh.
“Is everything all right?” she whispered, trying not to be alarmed.
He was quiet for a long time, only his deep breaths filling the silence. Finally, he hugged her even closer. “You know Enrique Santiago?”
Confusion caused her brows to furrow. “The left fielder for the Rockets?”
She felt his nod. “He nearly lost his wife today.”
“Oh no.” Her heart jumped. “She’s not going to—”
“No, she’ll be fine.” More of the deep, dark silence. “You know, every time somebody’s wife is involved, I can’t help but think of you.” He shook his head, breathed in deep. “I’m not sure I’d survive if something happened to you.”
His heartbreakingly honest words had tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sometimes it’s not your choice.”
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “You’re the one putting your life on the line every day, Leon. Every day when you walk out the door I face the fear you won’t come home. If something happened to you—”
“You’d be just fine.” He kissed her neck. “You’re the strong one, Kayla. Always have been. I love you.”
She turned her head to meet his lips with her own. “I love you, too.”
His arms tightened around her. “Promise me if something does happen to me, you’ll move on. I want you to love again. I want you to be happy.”
She hated the depressing tone of the conversation. “I’ll promise to move on if you promise that if something happens to me, you’ll live a celibate life. ‘Cause I want you to be miserable.”
He laughed, all gloom and doom fleeing the room. “I love you. G’night, babe.” And with one more hug he turned over.
Within minutes his steady breaths became soft snores. She soon followed, drifting into oblivion, forcing herself not to think of their morbid conversation.


Just as the sun peeked over the eastern skyline, Kayla stretched and yawned and began her day. The first rays drifted in through the back window, cheering up the kitchen. She stood at the stove, moving eggs around the skillet. Toast popped out of the toaster. Ten-year-old Chase ran around the table, fisted a knife and jammed it into the butter.
“I’ll get the orange juice,” Sadie announced, hustling toward the fridge.
A small television mounted under the cabinet had been turned on, tuned to the morning news. “And we’re back with Phillip Ross and photographer Ian McCallister—”
“Hey! They said Ian McCallister!” Sadie peeked around the door of the fridge. “Is that our Ian McCallister?”
“Yep.” Leon came into the room with a smile, a wink, and a three-year-old princess perched on his arm. “That’s our Ian McCallister.”
“No, it’s Mom’s Ian McCallister. Right, Dad?”
“Something like that, Sport.” He dropped Penelope into her booster seat at the table, buckling her in before coming up behind Kayla.
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “You really should stop that.”
He feigned misunderstanding. “Stop what?”
“One of the kids is going to say something to him and then what?”
“Then he’ll know I’m on to him.” He winked.
Her husband loved to tease her about the very sexy, very young, very could-have-any woman-he-wanted neighbor, who Leon claimed had a crush on her. Ian McCallister was every woman’s dream. Sweet, smart, and sexy as sin. His late twenties body had been honed into a thing of beauty. Yes, she’d looked. She might be married, but she certainly wasn’t dead.
Regardless of his chiseled jaw, full-lipped lop-sided grin and flirtatious winks, Kayla didn’t believe the brown-haired, bronzed hunk had anything but neighborly intentions toward her. After all, she was just…her, a thirty-seven year old, wife and mother, who considered herself lucky to sneak a shower into a twenty-four hour period. Forty-eight tended to be the norm.
“Should I be offended you’re not jealous?” She tried not to smile.
“Nope.” He kissed her cheek, stealing a piece of toast. “It’s the price I pay for having a MILF for a wife.”
“What’s a MILF?” Sadie asked in six-year-old innocence.
Kayla’s blush burned hot in her cheeks. Leon, however, grinned like an idiot. He crossed the room and kissed their daughter on top of her auburn head.
“Someday,” he told her, “you’ll learn the answer to that. But today is not that day.” He ruffled her hair. “Be a good girl. Have a good day at school.”
She hugged him tight. “Love you, Daddy.”
And the morning ritual continued; Leon telling each of the kids to be good, each of them saying they loved him. Then it came her turn. Leon clipped his badge onto his belt, her name flexing across his inner forearm. He hugged her tight, kissed her, looked her right in the eye. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Another kiss. “See you tonight.”
She smiled as he snatched a piece of toast off of Chase’s plate before disappearing out the door. A wave of dread washed over her. She bit her lip, wanting to race after him, beg him to play hooky, call in sick—something he’d never done in their entire twelve year marriage. She choked down the emotion, telling herself he’d be fine—just like every other day—and focused on getting the kids ready for the bus. After they left she and Penelope had a date with the mall.


CONTINUE READING via Kindle, Nook, other paperback or purchase an autographed copy.

TO VOTE FOR #HardBreak:

OR email "I want to vote for Hard Break by Morgan Kearns for BEST CONTEMPORARY 2013: Artists and Writers." to