Friday, March 24, 2017

D.R. Grady Gives Us Trouble with Nerds!


The Trouble with Nerds
by D.R. Grady


Odd things keep happening to Dr. Sara Newton. She’s a soon-to-be-unemployed pediatrician with an alleged stalker, a hot cop on her heels breathing dire warnings, and way too much student debt.

It doesn’t help that the hot cop is Clay Morrison, her best friend’s older brother. The man has made her heart pound and her palms sweaty since puberty. The trouble is, he only interacts with her when he’s expounding on new security measures. He sees threats everywhere.

Clay Morrison is frustrated. He hates his new job, misses his Army Ranger days, loves his well-meaning, pushy family—and when did sweet Sara Newton grow up? She won't admit she has a stalker, and she won't keep out of his thoughts. He can only protect someone in denial for so long. No matter how attractive she is...

Clay and Sara are circling each other, trying to meet in the middle. Then a brand new threat sends them in a completely different direction.

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Excerpt:

The man in front of her grinned. In a twisted parody of a grin as he reached for her. She eluded with a slick move from Janine, but the man flowed with her. As though he had anticipated her action. This time she thrust forward to jab him in the knee, then followed through with a shot to the crotch. He dropped to the floor, grabbing at his damaged goods as she stepped over him to flee the small room.

And slammed into a solid object. The hard hands circling her arms weren’t friendly. This man’s gold tooth gleamed in the dimmed light, and the flash made her heart sink. To the catacombs. She spun, trying to break his grasp, as Greg had taught her.

His grip didn’t falter. Instead, he used his hold on her upper arms to sweep her off the rug and over the men all around them. She shrieked. Just because they wanted to keep quiet didn’t mean she had any intention.

Especially with fear now clouding her thoughts, because her heart thumped and sweat coated her top lip. She knocked her head into his chin and let out another scream. Putting as much volume into it as possible. He countered with a fist to her chin.

The blow snapped her head back, and blanked her mind as pain ratcheted up her jaw into her head. Everything blurred before she yanked up a hand and thrust two fingers into his eyes. Greg had warned there was no need to play fair in battle, so she jabbed at his eyes and used her aching head to free herself, head butting him whenever the opportunity arose.

Her feet were free so she aimed for his knees. Desperation and pain fueled her actions, no matter how cliche. The man laughed at her efforts. Red slashed across her vision as she thrust away her aches and the nasty taste in her mouth. At the clamoring of her common sense, yelling at her to shrivel into a sack of pleading.

She wiped blood off her lip as the images in front of her narrowed to this leering man with his ugly golden tooth. Maybe she wouldn’t win this, but she’d do her best to make Clay proud.

This time when she jabbed him, she did so with her medical expertise. She hit him in the solar plexus and then followed through with a blow to the nose. Next, the money shot. A swift knee to the groin. It was gratifying when he cried out, and crumpled.

Her success surged to her head. Triumphantly, she spun, right into the chest of the largest man she’d ever seen. This might be a gorilla pretending to be a man. He was hairy and needed to bathe, and he leered at her just like the idiot she’d just toppled.

Sara’s bravado faltered and scuttled away with a whimper as she stared at this person so much bigger than her. This is why guns had been invented. Because there was no way...

“Sara, run,” Clay bellowed.

Not about to disobey, she darted between the gorilla’s legs and slid across the rug. Her sweater caused drag, but she scrambled to her feet, and sprinted down the hallway. Away from the terror behind her. Her heart pounded in tune with her fleeing footsteps as her breath came in short, staccato gasps.

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About the Author:

D.R. Grady lives with her husband near Hershey, PA. She adores chocolate, laughing, collecting bags, books, and shoes, and writing stories that resonate with others.

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Other works by D.R. Grady

The Morrison Family Series:


The Trouble with Nerds
The Nerd who Spied Me


Free Short Stories:


Math Nerds and Mechanics
Tall Golf


The Me Series:



The Dragon Chronicles Series:




For additional buying options and updates, please visit her website-

Friday, March 10, 2017

Tomatoes, Pickles, and a Whole Lot of Ivy!


Hoedown Showdown

The Final Ivy Morris Mystery


With the Tasty Tomato Tournament just days away, the small town of Martha’s Point is all abuzz. This is the first year without a sure winner, and the competition is fierce to gain the judges’ approval, even before the tournament starts.

But when Ivy finds one of those judges dead in a shed across the street, things go from bad to worse. All she wanted was seven glorious, kid-free days of messing around with her husband. Instead, she’s going to be tracking down a killer, staying out of the way of a pickle-obsessed farmer, and dodging the new cop who seems out for her blood.

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Excerpt

“Myrt,” I said patiently, as if talking to a small child. “First of all, this wasn’t the tomato crusher. It was Judge McIntyre.”

I didn’t even get to the next part since she started wailing. “Oh, my stars! I’m never going to win the Tasty Tomato Tournament now! It’s the fiftieth anniversary, and I wanted at least one chance before I die! And now I will never win this! I’ll be a dead woman long before I can ever show my face again in the tournament! And this was supposed to be my year!”

Not only was that a lot of exclamation points, but she also dragged the last word out until it sounded like a cat dying. I tried to calm her down by settling my hand on her shoulder. She shook me off while dropping her cane at her feet. With a ton of creaks and cracks, she knelt down beside him and started babbling about how sorry she was.

“I don’t think you should touch him.” I said this while definitely keeping my distance. I did not want to touch him more than I already had. To be honest, it had been some time since I was involved in anything more than feeding and playing with my kids or running my store and being a wife. Occasionally I would help Ben with a case or two in his work as a private investigator, but it was more paperwork than anything else. I did not want to even know what had happened to the judge, much less who had done it. Ben was not going to be pleased. At all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. McIntyre,” Myrt said with her face close to his, her hand patting his chest. There was a crinkling noise, but she was still talking. “So very sorry. When Irma died last year in her sleep after winning her forty-ninth straight tournament, I thought I finally had a chance, and now I hit you, and I’m so very, very sorry, and I can’t believe I mistook you for a burglar.” She twisted her hands together like she was wringing out a dishtowel. And she was going to draw blood if she continued biting her lip in between babbling some more.

I had few choices right now. I have to admit here that I had no desire whatsoever to call the police. I didn’t want to be involved in things. I had plans this week. This was not going to keep me from swinging from the freaking chandelier if I could.

Of course, I could go across the street and call from the house, or have Ben call and then remove myself from the situation altogether. But that would be completely unfair to Mrs. Crandall.

I couldn’t help myself. I let out a scream that would have brought down an opera house, something between frustration and fright because, at that moment, something furry ran against my leg before shooting into the bushes.

In the end, the decision of what to do was taken out of my hands because the police came tearing up in the one marked car in town, screeching to a halt at the curb. A man in uniform was out of the car before I could blink again. And I’m glad I didn’t blink because I would have missed the way he jumped from the car and then did a forward roll across the front lawn as if he was in some crazy-assed shootout.


Author Bio: Misty Simon loves a good story and decided one day that she would try her hand at it. Eventually she got it right. There’s nothing better in the world than making someone laugh, and she hopes everyone at least snickers in the right places when reading her books. She lives with her husband, daughter and three insane dogs in Central Pennsylvania where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at misty@mistysimon.com, or visit her on Facebook or Twitter.