Happy November! Today-Tuesday, November 3rd- is a special day for you! It's RELEASE DAY! Not only is there a new story for you to get in the HUNKS, HAMMERS & HAPPILY EVER AFTERS anthology, it will only cost $0.99 to read it! It's a limited time price, so hurry and download it to your favorite ereader before the price goes up!

IBOOKS | KINDLE | NOOK | KOBO

And we'd love you to join us for our official party to kick off our release week celebration on Facebook. We joined with Book Partners in Crime to host a terrific all evening live celebration on Wednesday, November 4th.

Did you know I'm on Facebook? It's somewhat new, so if you play over there, come friend me! https://www.facebook.com/people/Cathy-Clamp/100009216026845 In fact, you can meet all of the authors as they host the page and chat with everyone! Here's when everyone appears:

Host Schedule: All Times EST (Eastern)

6:30 PM Jodi Redford
7:00 PM Anna J. Stewart
7:30 PM Cari Quinn
8:00 PM Chudney Thomas
8:30 PM Leah Braemel
9:00 PM Cathy Clamp

I picked last because I'm in central time and that's about when I get all my after work with the animals done. LOL! But I'll be there earlier if I can get time. :D

It's also release day for the special 10th anniversary edition of HUNTER'S MOON. A bunch of fans have asked when the series would be re-released, and here's the start. But like all things, there's a catch to the release. The rest of the series will only be released if this one does well. It costs money, after all, to put the book out and the publisher has to have some guarantee they aren't throwing away the money. So help a gal out. The awesome new cover would make a terrific holiday gift for your favorite reader pal or relative! 

Amazon | B&N | Macmillan Page (where there are lots of other retailers) 

I'm hard at work on several new projects. One of them will be a special story for those of you who are attending the RT Booklovers Convention in Las Vegas in May of 2016. I'm one of the authors hosting the Intergalactic Bar & Grille event and we have something special planned for the people attending. You'll find out more about it as it gets closer!

I'm also starting work on the first of a new series. I'm really excited about this new world and think you will be too!

Now, it's time for prizes! My favorite part of the newsletter! All of the signed books, cover flats and other stuff went out more than a week ago. Watch your mail for yours!

Congrats to:
Diana T.
Anna P
Catherine L.

If that's you, you're one of the winners of the convention swag bag! Watch your inbox for an email from me.

Now, what about this month's surprise? Well, November is my birth month, so everyone who drops me an email to: cathyclampfans@gmail.com and wishes me a Happy Birthday in the subject line will get entered in a drawing for a special birthday treat FROM me. How fun is that?

And in keeping with the spirit of birthdays, here's a little birthday surprise from me . . . the opening of my novella, HOT SUMMER NIGHTS, from the HUNKS, HAMMERS & HAPPILY EVER AFTERS anthology! Enjoy!

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HOT SUMMER NIGHTS

The pounding in Gabe's head was getting worse. If he didn't get out of the sun pretty soon, he was going to wind up with heat stroke. The buzz of cicadas in the ancient cypress trees overhead made the air feel even heavier- thick enough to cut with a knife. Even if the sun hadn't been so unrelenting, the humidity weighed down his clothes. They hung from him like he'd been swimming in the pool. The patterned scarf covering his head was soaked with sweat and his eyes stung from the salt. But the new roof panels were up and just in time, if the dark clouds on the horizon were any indication.

"Gabe!" He looked down and saw tiny Mrs. Hernandez using her extension tongs to hold up a bottle of water from her third floor balcony. "You're all red. Drink. Drink."
Her age spotted hands shook as she reached the bottle as high as she could with the metal pincer contraption she always carried around. It was a nice gesture, but he honestly wasn't sure if he could bend far enough down to grab it without falling head first onto the pavement.

He waved at her and walked down the steep slope of the roof, keeping the tie line of his safety harness at an angle so it didn't tangle. She squinted up at him. "Obrigado, Senhora Dona Hernandez. Thank you. But I have water up here. I will take a break soon. I promise."

She lowered the water bottle and shook her head. "You work too hard, Gabriel." She always pronounced it as though he was French, with a soft 'a' and an emphasis on the 'el'. It wasn't correct, but he liked how she said it. "You should tell Mr. Will that you need help."

"Mr. Will passed away, Senhora Dona. Don't you remember? A few months ago." And he'd just used the last supplies that the old owner had paid for. Other than the few wrappers of shingles to cover the wood and a little paint, the supply room was empty.

But he was ready. He'd saved nearly every dime he'd been paid as an employee, just like Will Green had taught him. How many nights had he slept hungry, even while there was money in the bank? When the motel was officially his, he could care for it. Mr. Will had kept track of much the shingles cost, and the same for each plate of glass, square foot of carpet and even pillows. He'd read the reports and understood them. I'm ready. Like I promised.

He let out a slow breath as the frail widow escaped back into her room, probably to put her face deep into the breeze from the air conditioner. The Louisiana heat was hard on the people who lived here. He had to make sure he kept their rooms in good repair. Every air conditioner worked, was top of the line. The independence of living at the Starlight Motel, not being a burden on their families, was their pride . . . and his. This wasn't a motel. It was a community.

He opened the cooler tucked in the shade next to the television antenna, but even though he'd packed it with blocks of ice when he'd started on the roof, the bottles of Gatorade were floating in a pool of tepid water now. Still, warm was better than hot and he gratefully gulped down the salty orange fluid.

There was no way he was going to have time to get the shingles put down before the storm hit, so he started to roll out plastic sheeting to cover the bare wood. It was exterior grade, but it would still be easier to shingle tomorrow if the wood wasn't wet.

As Gabe was lowering the bucket with his tools to the ground, he noticed a long black car pulling into the driveway. A limousine? Was it finally time? This was the wrong neighborhood for a limo, unless it was about Mr. Will's estate.

A man in a suit that probably cost more than Gabe's whole wardrobe stepped out of the limo, carrying a briefcase. The man was middle-aged, his hair thinning but still with color, his tie bright red, shiny enough to be silk. The suit was Italian cut, in the latest style. But it wasn't Mr. Will's attorney . . . at least not the one he'd been introduced to last fall. Still, he probably was a lawyer. He remembered Mr. Will's lessons about meeting new people. Notice clothing always, Gabe. People speak through clothes. Listen to what they tell you. But remember-clothes do not make the man. Clothes are just words. The strength of the words is in the people.

"Excuse me!" He yelled the words up to be heard over the traffic and insects. "Habla Ingles? Are you Gabriel Silva?"

It made him chuckle as he unhooked his safety harness from the static line. Will Greene's voice came into his head again. No blinks, Gabe. Be firm, meet his eyes. No matter how you are dressed at the moment. Make your clothing.

He kept his gaze locked on the other man's, taking his measure. He shouted back in reply. "Yes, I'm Gabriel, and I speak English." With a little Cajun accent, which he had worked hard to perfect. It was likely why people used the French pronunciation of his name. It was a long way from a being teenager who arrived as a stowaway, who couldn't speak anything but his native tongue. "But even if I didn't, I wouldn't speak Spanish. I'm from Brazil. We speak Portugese."

That made the man blink, which amused him. Dark skin didn't automatically mean Mexican, especially in Louisiana. In fact, when he wasn't working in the sun all the time, his skin was almost pale. While the man was deciding what to say next, Gabe tested the ladder to make sure the feet hadn't shifted. He really should attach a ladder to the wall to reach the roof. Maybe next year.

That was when he saw the shiny black stiletto heel slide out of the limo. The leg that followed was bare of hose, but the calf muscle said the woman was a runner or at least a fitness buff.

He watched while the rest of the woman exited the vehicle. She was wearing a pair of white capri pants and a sleeveless shirt. But what drew his attention was the summer hat, broad brimmed white with a patterned black and white ribbon. A gust of wind from the coming storm hit his back, nearly blowing him off the roof. It caught the hat and tried to pull it off her head. The hair underneath was the color of beach sand. She reached up to hold it on, and looked up. Their eyes met and her lips opened. It was the same expression. The very same. Gabe's breath stilled at the same moment his heart started to race.

It was her. The woman in the photograph.

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Want to read more? Well, of course you do! So scroll up to the top of the newsletter and order your copy today!

For those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, have a wonderful one, and even if you don't I wish upon you a month filled with family and love.