Marci Boudreaux is Kicking off a Great new Series and an Epic Publishing Adventure!

Please welcome Marci Boudreaux today! Marci is a good friend and amazingly talented author who’s launching a wonderful new series that I can’t wait to read!

Take it away, Marci…

Thank you for having me, Sam.

I’m so excited my new contemporary romance is now available! For your readers who aren’t writers, let me just say that release day feels like a birthday…only maybe a little better!

Sometimes friends gather, sometimes there’s a little party, sometimes it’s celebrated by having dinner with the family, but release day is always special. I’m celebrating right now by being here with you!

The Road Leads Back is special to me for so many reasons. First, this is my very first self published book. Start to finish, I did this all (with the little help from a few editors!) on my own. Final decisions, art, design…all me. So if/when you find fault, it’s on me.

The second reason is because I feel such a strong connection to these characters. They really had a story to tell and I’m very pleased with the way it was told.

The third reason this book means so much to me is because it is the first release in my new series (another first!) Stonehill Romance. Each book in this series will stand alone, but they all will interconnect. Stonehill is a suburb of Des Moines and a hybrid of several of the towns I frequented when I was a journalist making the rounds in the area.

I can’t wait to introduce you to this series and I really hope you enjoy getting to know these characters as much as I did.

 Book Blurb and Excerpt

the-road-leads-back_coverKara Martinson and Harry Canton weren’t exactly high school sweethearts, but they did share one night neither will ever forget. Twenty-seven years later, Harry surprises Kara at an art gallery opening and discovers he left her with more than just memories when he went away to college. Desperate to connect with the family he never knew existed, Harry convinces his son to move to Stonehill—and pleads with Kara to come, too.

Kara hasn’t stepped foot in their hometown since the day she was sent away to a home for unwed mothers. Now Harry’s back in her life and as they put together the pieces of their parents’ betrayal, old heartaches start to feel anew. She wants to be near her family, but returning to Iowa means facing some things…and some people…she isn’t quite ready to.

Can Harry convince her to forgive the people who betrayed her so they can embrace the future they were robbed of so long ago? Or will the pain of the past be too much for Kara to overcome?


 Kara squeezed her way toward the crowded bar, nudging between two kids who she couldn’t quite believe were old enough to be legally drinking in public. Shouldn’t they be funneling cheap beer in a college dorm somewhere? Or sneaking shots from Daddy’s liquor cabinet?

Art gallery openings used to be much more sophisticated than this. When she was a young artist, openings were about appreciating the art and the artist, not the free booze.


Had she really gone there? Kara shook her head at her bitter thoughts.

The bartender, a walking tattoo with spiked black hair, leaned close so she could hear him. “What’ll it be?”

She realized all she wanted was wine. And quiet. The kids around her were acting more like pre-teens jacked up on sugar than art aficionados. One made a face, squished and reddened, as he held up an empty shot glass as proof of his triumph.

She wondered when she had gotten so damned old. She never used to snub her nose at a good drink. Actually, she completely understood what her problem was, and it had nothing to do with age. She’d conformed. She’d fallen into line. She’d done what she was supposed to do. Agent? Check. Gallery opening? Check. Interviews with all the local fancy-pants magazines? Check.

But this wasn’t her. None of this was her.

Frowning, she leaned in as well, making sure he heard her over the jeering of the kids next to her. “Tequila.” Within seconds he set a glass in front of her and filled it with amber liquid. He started to walk away but she held up one hand and lifted the glass with the other. She downed the drink, slammed the glass down, and gestured for another—one shot wasn’t nearly enough to numb the misery of this evening.

The young man lifted his brows and smirked as he gav­­­e her another shot. He laughed as she motioned for him to fill the glass a third time. “I can’t do this all night, lady.”

“One more.”

“Some of the crap in here costs more than my car. No puking. Got it?”

Kara chuckled. Clearly he didn’t recognize her as the artist who had made the crap. “Honey, I was doing tequila shots before your daddy dropped his pants and made you.”

The barkeep threw his head back and laughed, then filled her glass one more time. “Nice one, babe.”

Babe? Kara snorted as she lifted the glass. It was almost to her lips when a hand squeezed her shoulder.

“Kara?” asked a deep, smooth voice as if the man wasn’t certain who he was touching.

She turned. Her eyes bulged as she looked into an intense dark gaze she hadn’t seen since the night she’d lost her virginity.

The music had been loud, the beer lukewarm, and everybody who was anybody—and several nobody’s like Kara and Harry—in their senior class of Stonehill High was at the graduation party. The only person she had cared about, though, didn’t care about her. Or so she’d thought. Until she’d somehow ended up on Shannon Blake’s disgustingly pink- and ruffle-covered bed with Harry Canton, book club president and algebra superstar, clumsily removing her clothes, leaving slobbery kisses in their wake.

Kara swallowed hard as the flash of a memory faded, and the man standing before her, looking as shocked as she felt, came back into view.

She downed the liquor, slammed the glass against the bar, and sighed before she announced, “I’ve been looking for you for twenty-seven years.”

He sank onto the vacant stool next to her and lifted his hands as if he were at a loss for words. Something that appeared to be guilt filled his eyes and made his full lips sag into a frown. She’d be damned if temptation didn’t hit her as hard as it had when she was a hormonal teen.

“I wanted to tell you I was leaving,” he said, “but I didn’t know how.”

“You should have tried something like, ‘Kara, I’m leaving.’”

“You’re right. But I was a kid. I didn’t have a lot of common sense. All I could think about was how I finally had my freedom.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You had your freedom? You selfish prick.”

His eyes widened. “Well, that might be a little harsh. I was just a kid, Kara. Yes, I should have told you I had no intention of staying with you, but I was a little overwhelmed by what had happened. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?

Harry’s shoulders slumped, as if he had given up justifying sneaking out on her in the middle of the night. “Look, I saw a flier for your gallery opening, and I wanted to say hello. I thought maybe… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sounded hurt, dejected even. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He stood. She put her hand to his chest and shoved him back onto the barstool. The move instantly reminded of her their one night together. All of seventeen and totally inexperienced, she’d fancied herself a seductress and pushed him on the bed before straddling his hips like she had a clue what she was doing.

Touching his chest now, warmth radiated through her entire body.

She glared, pulling her hand away and squeezing her fingers into a fist. “Are you living in Seattle?”

He shook his head. “I had a conference in town. There were fliers at the hotel. As soon as I saw your picture, I knew I had to come.” His smile returned and excitement oozed from his face. “I can’t believe you have a gallery opening. This is amazing, Kare.”

She wasn’t nearly as thrilled by her accomplishment as he seemed to be. She felt like she was selling her soul instead of her art. She’d always preferred to go the indie route, but that crap agent had cornered her at a particularly vulnerable moment and convinced her she needed him…just like he convinced her she needed to be in a gallery. Although, now she was glad she’d conceded on the open bar.

The tequila swirled through her, making her muscles tingle, preventing her from fully engaging the near-three decades of anger she’d been harboring. She had spent an awfully long time wanting to give Harry Canton a piece of her mind.

Even so, hearing him say she’d done something amazing warmed her in a way very little ever had. If he had come looking for another one-night stand, she hated to admit that she would consider reliving that night again—only this time with more sexual experience and less expectation of him sticking around.

He might be almost three decades older, but his face was still handsome and his brown eyes were just as inviting as they had been when he was a high school prodigy and she was a wallflower.

She smirked at a realization: he was in a suit, probably having just left a corporate meeting, while she was wearing a red sari-inspired dress at her gallery opening.

He was still the straight arrow. She was still the eccentric artist.

“Did you hear what I said, Harry? About looking for you for the last twenty-seven years.”

His shoulders sagged. “I never meant to sleep with you that night. I mean”—he quickly lifted his hands—“I was leaving and should have told you before taking you upstairs. I shouldn’t have just left like that, but I didn’t think you wanted to see me again anyway. If it’s any consolation,” he said giving her a smile that softened the rough edges of her anger, “I’d been working up the courage to kiss you since junior year when you squeezed a tube of red paint in Mitch Friedman’s hair after he made jokes about Frida Kahlo’s eyebrows in art class.”

She frowned at him. That hadn’t been her finest hour. Then again, neither was waking up thinking she was starting a new life as a high school graduate and the girlfriend of the cutest boy she’d ever met, only to find the other side of the homecoming queen’s bed empty. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman embracing her natural beauty.”

His smile faded quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I shouldn’t have left you like I did. I hope you believe that I regret it. Not being with you,” he amended, “but leaving without explaining.”

She laughed softly. He’d had that same nervous habit in high school. He’d say what was on his mind and then instantly try to recover, afraid his words had come out wrong. Usually they had. For as awkward as she’d been, at least she’d always been able to say what she meant and to stand behind it. Of course, that ability got her in trouble more often than not.

She’d told herself a million times that Harry didn’t owe her an explanation. They hadn’t been in any kind of relationship. She’d drooled over him from afar, but other than an occasional smile in the hallway, he’d barely acknowledged her existence in high school. Even if he hadn’t gone off to start his Ivy League college career the day after graduation, he likely never would have looked at her again. Well, at least not until she could no longer hide the truth of their one-night stand from the world.

“I expected so much more from you, Harry,” she said sadly, the sting of what he’d done back then numbed slightly by the tequila.

His shoulders sagged a bit. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever write me back?” Her voice sounded hurt and pathetic. She was surprised that after so many years of being angry, there was still pain hiding beneath her fury. “I must have sent you a hundred letters.”

He creased his brow. “Letters? I didn’t get any letters.”

Kara searched his eyes. He looked genuinely confused.

“I sent them to…” Her words faded. Suddenly the tequila-induced haze wasn’t so welcome. “Your mother said if I wrote to you, she’d make sure you got my letters.”

“My mother? I never got any letters.”

“But you sent money.”

Harry shook his head slightly. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I send you money?”

She stared at him as realization set in. He hadn’t responded to her letters because he hadn’t received her letters. And if he hadn’t received the letters, he hadn’t sent her money. And if he hadn’t sent her money, he hadn’t known that she needed it. Sighing, she let some of her decades-old anger slip. Her head spun, either from the alcohol or the blurry dots she was trying to mentally connect. Leaning onto the bar, she exhaled slowly. “She never told you, did she?”

“Told me what?”

Kara couldn’t speak. Her words wouldn’t form.

An arm wrapped around Kara’s shoulder, startling her and making her gasp quietly. She turned and blinked several times at the man who had just slid next to her.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I need to get home.” Leaning in, he kissed her head. “Congratulations on the opening, Mom. It was great.”

“Um…” She swallowed, desperate to find her voice. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She flicked her gaze at the man sitting next to her. The longer Harry looked at her son, the wider Harry’s eyes became.

Phil cast a disapproving glance at Harry then focused on his mother again. “Don’t forget that Jess is expecting you to make pancakes in the morning. You promised.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Kara returned her attention to Harry. His jaw was slack and his cheeks had grown pale.

Phil nodded at Harry as if he were satisfied that he’d made the point that his mother didn’t need to be staying out all night and walked away. Harry watched him leave while Kara waved down the bartender and pointed at her glass. The tattooed kid hesitated, likely debating the ethics of giving her another shot. She pointed again, cocking a brow for emphasis, and he finally filled her glass.

“Kara…” Harry’s voice was breathless, like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Was…was that my…son?”

No. His mother definitely hadn’t given him the letters Kara had written. She lifted her shot, toasting him. “Congratulations, Harry. It’s a boy.”

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You might also be interested in some of Marci’s other wonderful books:

Seducing Kate:



AND The Rebound!



 There’s a Contest!


Marci does have one little rule. International shipping is crazy expensive. If the winner is not in the Continental US, you will receive an e-copy of The Road Leads Back and your choice of one of my backlist.

 About Marci

Marci Boudreaux lives with her husband, two children and their numerous pets. Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new and her husband doesn’t like when she does that in real life.

As well as writing erotica under her pen name Emilia Mancini, Marci is a content editor for Lyrical Press, an imprint of Kensington Publishing. She earned her MS in Publishing from University of Houston-Victoria in 2014 and worked with Des Moines publishing company Big Green Umbrella Media, Inc. as a freelance writer until she recently opted to focus on working in books.







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#MySexySaturday – Blue Screened, Fun & Sexy IR Contemporary Romance


Bliss Drake has blue screened. Suffering from a broken heart and a dead computer, she finds herself standing in the middle of an electronics store nursing sweaty palms and lusty thoughts.

Tall, dark, and sexy, Brad Hoffman is a self-proclaimed nerd. When the beautiful black woman with a serious fear of computers starts talking about flinging herself into a display case at his favorite electronics store, he’s happy to offer his…erm…services.

Together they’ll either make her hard drive hum…or turn it into a steaming pile of melted carbon. It’s time to find out just how good a nerd Mr Tall, Dark and Sexy is!


“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll work on your computer if you’ll bring it to my home.”

Bliss was shaking her head before he spoke the last word. She barely knew the man. And he was way too hard to resist! Her alarmed heart clenched in panic. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Oh. I see your point. I can give you references.”

Bliss chuckled. “Personal or professional references?”

“Professional. Being a consummate woman beater, drug user, and heavy drinker, I find the personal kind harder to come by.”

Bliss snorted. “That’s really too bad.”

“Yes, it is. But wait! If you give me a few hours I could probably beat a reference out of the elderly woman next door. I figure she has it coming. I’ve seen how she looks at me…”


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Sam’s Sunday Snippets – Blue Screened


Bliss Drake has blue screened. Suffering from a broken heart and a dead computer, she finds herself standing in the middle of an electronics store nursing sweaty palms and lusty thoughts.

Tall, dark, and sexy, Brad Hoffman is a self-proclaimed nerd. When the beautiful black woman with a serious fear of computers starts talking about flinging herself into a display case at his favorite electronics store, he’s happy to offer his…erm…services.

Can a computer-phobic beauty and a sexy nerd ever sync up? Only if they can cobble together the right bits ‘n bytes!!


Five Siren Stones from Cia, Siren Book Reviews!

“…melted my hard drive. Bliss tickled my funny bone. Her reaction to technology is the epitome of natural fear of the unknown. I fully expected her to keep her dinosaur running even though she had the perfect opportunity scoring the sexiest man alive.

Intelligent and sexy Brad had me drooling from the get go. Add in the fact that he built the perfect software and is a lover of dogs and I was hooked.

I thoroughly enjoyed this read.”


“Do you like dogs?”

Bliss could tell by the slight narrowing of his gaze and the overly offhand way he asked it that the question wasn’t a casual one. Her response was important to him.

She decided to be honest. “I don’t know. I’ve never been around them.”

He looked incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

Bliss shrugged. “No.”

A bee buzzed past and Bliss jumped, swiping a hand through the air with a little squeal of alarm.

Brad reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t swipe at it. If you leave it alone it will leave you alone.” Awareness sparked where his heated skin touched hers and throbbed between her legs. Bliss was shocked by the strength of her reaction to him.

As she began circling to keep an eye on the buzzing insect, Brad touched her shoulder. “Let’s go into the house, shall we?” He’d pitched his voice low and soothing, as if he were dealing with a shoe addict at a flip flop sale.

She didn’t care. At that moment all she wanted was to get inside four walls. Nature terrified her. She was convinced that it had been created only for taking pictures to hang on walls. No reasonable person actually lived in it. It was much too dirty and uncontrollable, with bugs and other things that bit and stung.

“Great idea. Let’s go inside.”

He grinned and Bliss realized how desperate she’d sounded. “Is the computer in your car?”

“Oh…yes…sorry. It’s on the backseat.”

Brad set Sissy down and opened the driver’s side door, flipping the seat forward to grab the laptop sitting on the tiny back seat. “You ever put anybody in this seat?”

Bliss had been staring worriedly toward the house, a low-slung brick ranch whose walls seemed almost to rattle from the sound of barking coming from inside. She frowned, answering him without turning around. “Occasionally. Why?”

Slamming the door closed, he tucked the machine under one arm and placed a hand under her elbow, guiding her toward the front door. “I wouldn’t put anybody I cared about in that torture device. It’s barely big enough for Sissy.”

Bliss finally shifted her worried gaze away from the rambunctious goings-on inside the house and favored him with a slow grin. “I didn’t. I put my sister-in-law, Becca, in there. Trust me, she deserved it.”

“Okay.” He laughed, “You’re definitely going to have to tell me about this Becca.”

“Not until we know each other better. Much better,” she told him with a laugh. Then she realized he might take that wrong and started to explain. But Brad opened the front door just then and Bliss forgot what she was going to say as a wall of fur and slobber shot out and surrounded her.


Bliss wasn’t sure if he was yelling at her or the dogs.

She squealed and tried to dance backward on her three inch heels. The wall of dogs followed her, barking so loudly she was pretty sure no one would even hear her screams as they killed and ate her.

As she stepped off the sidewalk onto the grass, her heel sunk into the dense grass and deeper, embedding itself in the dirt. That’s when a small deer with one, blue eye rose up on its massive hind legs and placed its giant paws on her chest, barking enthusiastically into her face. She started going down, arms flailing and mouth open in a breathless scream.

Brad tried to grab her, but he was juggling the laptop and trying to keep Sissy and another tiny dog from being trampled and he couldn’t reach her in time. Bliss went down hard on her back in the soft grass, her skirt up around her hips and her knees all akimbo, and gasped as several tiny dogs landed on her chest and started slavering her with wet, pink tongues.

With the wind knocked out of her lungs, and terror sucking any air she might have managed to gasp right out of her chest, she didn’t even have the strength to fight the tongues laving her face. Clamping her lips tightly closed, she focused instead on trying to keep them out of her mouth and just lay there making desperate, little mewling sounds, as what felt like about a hundred dogs danced around and over her limp, broken body.


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