The Aroma of Love: (The Yolanda’s Yummery Series, Book 3) is Here + Excerpt

By Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2015, 2016

I wish I could write a book as fast as I read one, but that’s just not possible. Today, I’m launching the third book in the Yolanda’s Yummery series. Be prepared for sweet romance, pies, and a cold case dating back to the 1960s. Here’s the official blurb:

Yolanda Carter is gearing up for a hectic holiday season at her bakery, Yolanda’s Yummery.

The adjoining Beverage Bar is thriving due to owner Nigel Garvey’s expertise along with that of shift manager Quinn Hendrickson, a barista and a baker.

Visiting her grandmother’s gravesite, Yolanda is surprised to see a woman putting pies into an old-fashioned station wagon. Her parents mention an unsolved murder of her grandmother’s best friend who was an amazing pie baker. The story of the 1960s crime touches Yolanda, along with her new friend, Detective Winston Churchill. Her growing sleuthing skills lead her to search for the killer.

In between investigating and baking batches of pies in time for her latest product launch, Yolanda discovers more about the sweetness of love. And who is heating up the kitchen with Yolanda?

Includes the recipe for Yolanda’s Chewy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies!

CHAPTER 5
Excerpt

That morning Nick was helping one of the older appreciated guests who was taken with both him and the Fancy Vanilla cupcakes. “Sonny, can I have that a cinnamon coffee Bundt cake with vanilla icing?” The woman with the white hair worn in a pageboy paused, then sneezed loudly. “No wait, how about butterscotch icing?”

Nick’s grimace almost passed for a grin. Jeannie noticed it and shook her head slightly, not wanting the young man to insult the older woman. “I’m afraid we don’t have butterscotch but we have caramel.”

“Oh goodie, I’ll have that.” The woman smiled broadly, focusing all her attention on Nick.

After she shuffled out of the yummery, Nick shook his head and stared at the almost empty tips jar. “The least she could’ve done was leave me a tip.”

Jeannie smiled. “Show her more attentiveness next time. Tell her how pretty her blouse is or something.”

“Jeannie, I don’t want to encourage her. Geez, she’s old enough to be my grandmother.”

“I’ll have you know that she’s the widow of one of the wealthiest real estate moguls in the city.”

“So? That means she could afford to leave a big tip.”

“Not necessarily. She’s frugal. She told me she frequents every 99 Cents Only store she drives by and hangs out at Big Lots in Culver City. She’ll drive out of her way to save money…” Jeannie helped herself to a fudge sample. “Just the way some folks are, I guess. Oh, and you didn’t offer her a sample. Next time make sure you offer every appreciated guest a sample – even the older ones who have a crush on you.”

“I forgot to change the tips jar sign today,” he said.

“That could be another reason, though I doubt it. Old widows are lonely, so just make her feel a little less lonely and you’ll get more tips.”

the aroma of love the yolanda's yummery series book 3 lisa maliga

Now available at:
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Amazon UK: The Aroma of Love
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iTunes: The Aroma of Love
Kobo: The Aroma of Love
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Diary of a Hollywood Nobody ~ A Show Biz Excerpt

Copyright 2011-2015 by Lisa Maliga

Wednesday, July 22

9:20 PM. Back in the world of show biz. 

diary of a hollywood nobody lisa maligaHollywood Financing. The office was on Sunset just east of Beverly Hills. I was a receptionist and the pay sucked but I could have all the free beverages I wanted. Reading on the job was okay. Eight executives worked there and they were a decent bunch. Jack, the lawyer, was in his mid-thirties, but his office was furnished like a kindergarten classroom. He had several cans of Play-Doh and had created some pretty weird sculptures. A fleet of Matchbox cars was parked on a Persian rug. Comic books were stacked on a couch in his suite overlooking Sunset Boulevard. And best of all, there was a kid-sized table and chair for his frequently visiting son that housed an array of coloring books and a box of crayons. Jack rarely accepted any calls and the messages multiplied between the scripts and contracts on his cluttered desk. 

I was allowed to read scripts so I didn’t bother bringing books. Everyone knew I was an aspiring screenwriter and I was glad to work in the Biz again. Leona was from Pennsylvania and said I could call home if I wanted. She was a production coordinator on a recent movie that hadn’t been released yet and had worked with Stallone. She was almost my age and drove a Chevy Blazer and lived in Beverly Hills. I imagined she was making more than what I made.

Here’s the official book description:

Chris Yarborough is a Midwesterner as green as the corn back home in Ohio. This former bookstore employee moves out to Los Angeles to pursue a profitable career in screenwriting.

She finds an office job in a Century City-based tax and financial planning company. The business closes in six months and her career as a temp is launched.

Chris temps in various locations from East L.A. to downtown to Santa Monica and the Valley. Jobs in movie studios bring her in contact with famous actors. As a temp she’s a nobody that’s as disposable as toilet paper.

Searching for a literary agent and that elusive script sale, Chris encounters an array of unusual characters. A partying apartment manager, an important film director who can launch her career, a lawyer with an office furnished in kindergarten motif, and several household names. Sometimes working in the entertainment biz, including stints at Playboy, Universal Studios, and Warner Bros, to jobs in unrelated fields, the plucky screenwriter perseveres.

We’re shown the excesses of the 1990’s as a nobody tries to become a somebody in Hollywood.

Available at Amazon and other online bookstores. See the following page for a full list of online book stores: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

A Naughty Narcissist’s Yuletide Greetings

narcissist chronicles love me need me a narcissist's tale i want you seduction emails from a narcissist lisa maligaBy Lisa Maliga
Copyright 2011-2015

I’ve decided to include a special excerpt from The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story as it contains a wacky Christmas scene. The narcissistic main character, Arlen J. Stevenson, is a Southern zombie author and public speaker. This scene is from a December speaking gig for firefighters and their wives in a small Southern town…

Warning: Rated PG-13!

Well, I needed to get more festive as it was warming up to be a very merry Christmas for me and I thought, well hell, who sang the best Christmas songs in the world? Me! Because I’d just composed Arlen’s Christmas Song and it was gonna get a deal with Sony Music next year.

I went back over to my briefcase and pulled out my Lucky Santa cap with the mistletoe attached to it. I removed the first one and put the new one on my head and went over to the mic and pulled it off its stand.

“Ladies and gentlemen–let me make this the best Christmas show you’ve ever attended. Why? Because there is a special Christmas treat for y’all, that’s why! This is an original musical composition!”

I cleared my throat and began singing, “Here’s your Christmas present, baby,” and smiled, shook my hips a little to warm myself up and began…

“I said, here’s your Christmas present, baby…” I was directing my vocal offerings at Daisy, the sexy ol gal in the back of the room and smiled at her, swishing my hips slowly back and forth, hinting that later on in the evening me and her could share some naked rockin’ and rollin’ in my motel room. I wished to hell she read minds, as I was getting hotter than hell thinking of what that ol gal must be like in the sack. She seemed to be grooving on it too, but I thought maybe I should continue on and do something Christmassy first before coming onto her up close and personal-like.

“Are you gonna pull my red ribbon tonight?” I warbled in a loud, musical voice. “Red ribbon…and if I’m lucky you’ll take it through the back door…” I went over to the Christmas tree at the back of the stage and admired it as I sang: “Oh I’m your Christmas present, baby…” extending the lyrics, fondling a large gold ornament, but not quite expecting it to crash to the stage floor and break loudly, but not nearly as loud as my strong tenor.

Time to get off the stage, and I switched hands on the mic and walked into the crowd, working it like the paid professional public speaker/singer I proudly am. I began slowly clapping in time to my singing and encouraging the audience to follow me, even clapping my hands above my head a few times. But they just sat there like some of my zombie characters.

I was making my way over to the sexy broad, but I stopped in front of a grandmaesque fat woman with a few tufts of cotton candy blue hair and thought of singing Blue Christmas to her, but decided to keep on singing what I was and I stood kinda close to her and rocked my hips suggestively as I sang. “Once you unwrap me, baby, you won’t need Elvis anymore!” But hell, she was too ugly to kiss so I just pretended like the mistletoe wasn’t there as I made my way over to the hottie with the big, nursable boobs.

On my way across the room I continued to sing, smiling at some ol gal in a wheelchair and deciding to flirt with her. I put my hand on the back of her chair. And I made her feel real good by pushing her wheelchair around in slow, sexy circles as I sang, “If I’d’ve been in Hollywood I’d’ve been the leading man and Elvis would work at a shoe store.”

She seemed a little bluer in the hair and redder in the face so I stopped the ride and by that time I had found my way over to Miss Daisy who was beaming up at me adoringly. Damn, I was gonna be giving her the Christmas love package a little early this year! I stripped off my sport jacket and my hips were a rockin’ back and forth and I sang directly to her “I’m your Christmas present, baby, touch me and watch your present growwwww”. I extended my arms to show how much, and was gonna lean on in to the sexiest woman in the room and get my mistletoe over her head and get my reward…

And that’s when some porky ol gal comes up behind me, interrupting me, by informing me: “Thank you Arlen J. Stevenson for your, uh, performance. But it looks like it’s time for our dinner to be served. Please join us!”

I smiled tightly at her and nodded in thanks. Some fat slob who thought dinner was more important than my groinal gratification had just interrupted my spectacular holiday musical performance.

Learn more about this book here: The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story

“The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story” plus an Arlen in Action Excerpt

narcissist chronicles love me need me a narcissist's tale i want you seduction emails from a narcissist lisa maligaBy Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2011-2015

Here’s a new excerpt from the eBook The Narcissist Chronicles: The WHOLE Story. Read about Arlen Stevenson’s first meeting with a woman he met online. A woman who sent him naked pictures of herself and is a fan of his zombie books. Mavis Preston is a lonely divorcée who enjoys trash talking with Arlen via IM and email. How will their planned weekend rendezvous turn out?

“Hello? Is this Arlen?” asked a breathy high voice.

“The one and only. I’m at this address here, numbered 6656 Bel…”

“Arlen, you’re here! Now!?” the phone clicked.

I looked up to see a stout woman with graying tightly permed curls and a pair of oversized glasses popular during the Reagan era, rushing toward me, her powder blue tracksuit emphasizing her undulating bulges and ripples. I pocketed my phone and embraced her, as I knew that was expected of me. I hid my disappointment beneath my pasted on smile—she looked absolutely nothing like those pictures she had sent…

Once I was inside her recently built home, I was impressed enough with the two story living room sporting a marble fireplace and walls containing built-in bookshelves. There was a large deck outside and a brand new gas grill that looked like it would cook lotsa steaks, burgers, hot dogs, and a few lobsters. The biggest turn on was the master bedroom with the elaborate king sized bed below a mirrored ceiling, plush beige carpeting which I wanted to test out when I got to some of my advanced sexual techniques, and the whirlpool tub in the adjacent bathroom made her look a whole lot better. Maybe ole Mavis was as good as she’d wrote.

When we went into her writing room, I saw that her computer was a laptop off in a corner next to a sewing machine and for some reason that disturbed me. Other than her bedroom, the suburban home seemed so normal and unsensual. Maybe it was the presence of a teenager; a door that was decorated on the outside with a poster of Hannah Montana, and remained closed because I doubted the woman wanted me to see evidence of her offspring. “Jeffrey, my only son! He’ll be spending the weekend with his father, like I told you earlier,” she assured me. The 4,000 square foot home was all ours from Friday through Sunday afternoon.

“I want you to autograph some books,” Mavis declared, leading me back downstairs into the living room. She immediately went over to a section and pulled out all three of my hardcovers, and I reasoned she didn’t break the bank to buy ‘em. Naturally, I always preferred it when they bought the more expensive and longer lasting version, and she happily handed them over.

“Why sure, Mavis, I’d love to…” hell, I just loved the fact that people actually bought my books and then wanted me to scribble in ‘em! I obliged her, thinking I was glad I’d left my overnight bag in the truck.

After the impromptu autograph signing, I pulled out my keys. “Mavis, I haven’t had a lot to eat today. Let’s say you and me go pick something up…”

“Nonsense, I won’t hear of it, Arlen. Why don’t I fix you a sub? I can make it to your liking…” she smiled suggestively.

 

Amazon Kindle version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

http://www.amazon.com/The-Narcissist-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B0053YUBCK

Amazon UK Kindle version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Narcissist-Chronicles-Lisa-Maliga-ebook/dp/B0053YUBCK

Barnes & Noble version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/narcissist-chronicles-lisa-maliga/1102941036?ean=2940012919106

iTunes version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id664385143

Kobo version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-narcissist-chronicles-the-whole-story-1

Scribd version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story https://www.scribd.com/book/230453823/The-Narcissist-Chronicles-The-WHOLE-Story

Smashwords version: The Narcissist Chronicles: The Whole Story

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/86256

Out of the Blue: A Novel – NEW Cover, NEW Excerpt

out of the blue a novel by lisa maligaCopyright 2014 by Lisa Maliga

Most of my newly revised novel, Out of the Blue, occurs in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Back then, a person could board an airplane with a large bottle of shampoo in their carryon bags. Back in the era where in-flight movies were shown on a pull-down screen and they shut the lights off in the cabin. Back when they issued silverware with meals, and you didn’t have to pay extra for dinner as it was part of the cost. Those days when people smoked on airplanes, although they were confined to the back seats.

Customs consisted of being asked why I was in England, how much money I had, they didn’t bother to look, and a kindly older gentleman wished me a “happy holiday!”

I visited Cornwall and saw Pendennis Castle. In Falmouth, I was surprised to see supermarket cashiers sitting down on the job. Traveling to a small Cornish town, I discovered the local Jigsaw Puzzle Club met every Tuesday afternoon in the library’s upstairs reading room.

As London was too expensive, I took a train to the Cotswolds. There I stumbled upon a small country inn that served as a model for the Windrush Arms Hotel.

I’ve contemplated rewriting this book for over a year and only got around to it this summer. This book has romantic elements, but I feel it’s more suited to coming of age/contemporary fiction categories. Out of the Blue contains scenes that convey why Sylvia’s attracted to older men, and we see another side to Mrs. Gardner.

Here’s a scene that describes main character Sylvia Gardner’s burgeoning obsession with the English actor:

Having more information on Alexander, she was relieved that she could see his current flick, Up In the Air. It was playing in a second run movie theatre on the other side of town.

She made the trek to the Eastside Theatre, a white brick building surrounded by an empty parking lot. Weeds sprouted from cracks near the edge of the sidewalk. At noon on Sunday, the movie house looked deserted.

Sylvia pulled her car into a space and got out. The humidity was the same as the temperature. Her nervousness accelerated her own perspiration; she was seeing a feature film starring her newly beloved. 

Up In the Air was about the adventures of a turn-of-the-century English balloonist who wanted to fly over the Himalayas. 

She gave her two bucks to the guy behind the box office window. A hefty woman at the concession stand stared into space. The enticing popcorn boiled from the trapdoor inside the machine, the sound and scent permeating the lobby.

Inside the cool, dark theatre, third row back. She rested her bare legs on the seat in front of her and waited for the event. Minutes later, he appeared. In the cinema, she encountered Alexander Thorpe looming several feet high. The stereo amplified his timbre. His British accent sounded overly proper to her ears. Amidst the lightly populated movie house she sat, her infatuation moving and speaking on screen expressly for her. The sight of him enraptured her. Flying above a pristine landscape in a brightly colored balloon, she soared along with him. Alexander Thorpe, the man who had appeared out of the blue.

Sylvia was bathed in the reflected light from the screen and watched him glide past the Swiss Alps as he watched the magnificent scenery. She envisioned herself onboard. For a fraction of a second, she really was there, her feet touching the basket’s bottom, his hand reaching for hers. They were about to look into each other’s eyes when she was back in the third row of the Richport cinema keeping cool on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Her fixation intensified over the months. In October, she was working a few hours overtime at the drugstore. Her increased wages were not enough to allow her to make a down payment on a plane ticket to London, but if she saved her money, then the likelihood of meeting the actor would increase. She realized the Englishman was not going to stop by Jenson’s Drugstore and purchase a pack of Marlboro’s and a Playboy. The only way to find the man was to journey to his homeland. Sylvia kept her desire to herself, for who would understand her burgeoning obsession with an actor of some renown? A man old enough to be her father; a man she had never met?

Summary:

It all began in the summer of 1979 …

Sylvia Gardner is a naïve library clerk who lives with her dysfunctional mother in Richport, Illinois. Vivian tells her daughter not to trust men because they only want to use her. After being dumped by her first boyfriend, Sylvia falls in love with an English actor after watching him on a PBS drama. Researching Alexander Thorpe’s life and career for two years, she saves her money so she can visit him in his Cotswolds village. She stays at the Windrush Arms Hotel, soon discovering they share a secret connection.

Complications ensue when Harry Livingstone, the hotel’s drunken proprietor, takes a fancy to the young American. As in her dreams, Sylvia and Alexander get together – but with unexpected results.

Amazon Kindle version: Out of the Blue 

Amazon Kindle UK version: Out of the Blue 

PAPERBACK version: Out of the Blue 

Barnes & Noble version: Out of the Blue 

iTunes version: Out of the Blue 

Smashwords version: Out of the Blue