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  • Writer's pictureBrooke Campbell

Happy September Fellow Readers!

This first ran as my September 2022 Newsletter. As you can see from the bit just before the Mac & Kate scene, the email problem crap started then...


Wow, really? August just blew by me. Please tell me I’m not the only one who completely lost track of time.


Because of losing track, this first exciting bit of news is a bit of old news at this point. But it was wonderful all the same. July being Read a Romance month for libraries, another local author and I did a joint author reading and Q&A. Kel O’Connor writes M/F romantic suspense. She has a couple of books out now - if you read one, be sure and leave her a review!

The event itself was great. Folks were really engaged and it was a wonderful experience overall, though I was terribly nervous to start. I’m not sure I’ll ever not be a little nervous, at least at first.




With September comes a whole lot of change. Our corner of the earth gradually cools, making the flora transition and filling us with dreams of warm fires, cozy blankets, and...pumpkin spice.

I gotta tell ya, my nonconformist tendencies have had me avoiding all things pumpkin spice for years. But something about this year – I jumped on the bandwagon the second they came available. It’s only a few days into September and I’ve already had pumpkin spice coffee, tea, and donuts. Honestly, I can’t get enough of it. Every taste gets me excited for all things autumn all over again.


Speaking of things to consume, I’m pretty excited to tell you about my latest sourdough baking attempt – soft pretzels! A couple of weeks ago, my wife and I joined some friends at a local farmers’ market. We all shared a savory stuffed pretzel. Let me tell ya, that cheesy artichokey thing was divinely craveable. I immediately started seeking recipes. Even starting with unstuffed, these pretzels are by far the most time consuming and needy recipe I’ve tried so far. Making the dough before dinner, I had to fiddle with it throughout the evening and the pretzels weren’t ready to bake until after breakfast. But oh, they were so worth the wait! I’ll try them at least one more time before I attempt to stuff them. Stay tuned!


On the book front, I have a bit of exciting news. My books will soon be offered in more than one language! This week I heard from a translator – Libby will be speaking Portuguese! I never imagined my books would be translated for a global market. I’m seriously stoked!


Lastly, but not leastly, my current work. Unfortunately, I don’t have much to show in terms of progress on Mac’s story. She’s been taking a back seat to all of the above and then some. But rest assured, I want to write her story as much as you want to read it – at least, I hope you want to read it! At any rate, here’s a tidbit to tide you over.


Oh, yeah, before I forget – if you have not received your gift for signing up for this, it’s because for whatever reason I didn’t get your response to the question of whether you want the audio book or a cut scene. Send which you’d prefer to brookecampbellwrites@protonmail.com asap and I’ll get that out to you!


Ok, without further ado, here’s the clip from Mac’s story:


Feeling pretty proud of myself I get her onto her front porch, and then as I stare at her front door, my face falls and I feel a fool. Keys. I look down at her, frowning. “No purse. Pockets?” Then I study the skin tight denim. No key outline. Back pocket? Feeling like a lech, I run my fingers across her jeans-clad fantastic ass as innocently as possible. Damn. No key. Well, that leaves two options. Sock or bra. Oh, please, if there is any mercy in the universe, don’t let it be in her bra.


As I lay her onto her bed, she comes awake. “Mac?” She reaches for me, and I settle onto the mattress beside her. I catch both of her hands before they can continue their explorations inside my tank. My control isn’t strong enough for all that, now. I want her so badly it wouldn’t take much. But I’ll be dammed if I take advantage of her like that. No, when we make love again. And we will, she’ll be fully aware and willing.


“Yeah, baby. I’m here. You want to get into your jammies?”


“Jammies? Don’t you want me, Mac?” Tears glisten in her eyes, and I lower my head to kiss her forehead.


 You’re killing me Smalls. Again. I groan.


“There they are.”


“Hmm?”


“Pretty gold eyes. I remember. You always had gold eyes when we...I see them in my dreams. My very very good dreams.” She laughs.


 I groan again for a different reason. Tris? A little help here? Tris sneezes and shakes hard from nose to tail.


It must work because Kate pouts. “No fair. You really don’t want me.” A prodigious yawn stretches her face and she looks down at herself. She shakes her head. “No boots in bed. Clothes off.” She tugs at her hands, and I let her go.


While she fiddles with the zipper of one boot, I slip off the other, then help her with the one she still doesn’t have off. Freed of their occupation, her hands go to her waistband and she starts undoing her jeans. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “No fair, Katydid? Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”


“Half of it?” She huffs. “Help please. Stuck.”


Dear God. I close my eyes again. I can help. Easier. She sends me an image of teeth carefully grasping only denim and ripping the fabric away. Not hurt our mate. Never. Tris so rarely uses words to communicate with me, for a moment I’m stunned. Well, isn’t this night just chock full of surprises?


Thank you, Tris. I’ve got it. At least, I hope I do. Thankfully? Kate kept at it and the zipper comes down without my help. Staying at her feet, I clutch the hems and pull. The way she shimmies and squirms out of that tight denim is nearly my undoing. It’s okay. I can do this. Think cold showers. Piece of cake, right?


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