
About The President’s Wife:
What happens when one of your best friends, the First Lady of the newly democratic Republic of Lodatia, appears to be an imposter? If you’re criminal defense attorney Julianna Constant, you pursue the truth like a rabid dog, then wage a battle to save your friend’s life.
When criminal defense attorney Julianna Constant travels to Washington, D.C. to join her former college roommate, Marella de la Aerelli, in celebrating her husband’s election as the first president of the newly democratic Republic of Lodatia, she is met with an unpleasant surprise. Her friend of almost 30 years not only looks unwell, she is cold and distant. After Julianna becomes convinced the woman is really an imposter, she attempts to expose the faux Marella by using a secret only she, Marella, and the sitting U.S. President share. In the process, Julianna helps to uncover an international conspiracy to seize control of the new country, using the president’s wife as a pawn in a dangerous and potentially deadly game. Will Marella be rescued before a coup takes place? Or will she become collateral damage in one tiny nation’s fight to be free?
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Excerpt:
The state dinner at the White House was in full swing. Waiters were busy delivering food and pouring wine, as guests ate and chatted with others seated at their tables.
Julianna picked at her dinner, some sort of beef dish with quirky vegetables, and continued to study Lodatian President Georges and Mrs. Marella de la Aerelli, as they chatted quietly with the U.S. president and his wife. Marella barely looked up from her plate, and conversation with her hosts appeared to be minimal. God, that is so not the Marella I know. She hasn’t even acknowledged me and I sent her an email informing her that I would be here.
Julianna set her fork down on her plate and nudged her husband, Little River, Wisconsin Police Chief David Manders. “Something’s wrong.” Julianna whispered. “Marella looks wrong. Maybe she’s just tired after the campaign, but she looks sick. Too thin and too pale. And she isn’t smiling. Marella is always smiling, even when she feels like shit. And she hasn’t even looked at me. Why is she ignoring me? Something is not right. I can feel it.”
David looked at his wife and tried to hide his smile. “Jules, you find a conspiracy behind every door these days,” he said quietly. He looked around to ensure that the other four couples seated at their table were otherwise engaged. “I vote for tired, no, make that exhausted. My God, five months ago, she was a farm wife in Lodatia, now she’s been thrust into the international spotlight as the wife of the President. That would exhaust anyone. I know if you ran for president, it would have a negative impact on me.”
Julianna smirked. “If I became President, sir, it would have a negative impact on both of us.”
David sighed and ran a hand through his short, silver hair. His piercing blue eyes gazed at his wife, his fondness apparent. “Well, instead of jumping to conclusions, let’s wait until the reception at the Lodatian Embassy. There are a lot of rules and protocols for visiting dignitaries. Maybe it just isn’t appropriate to buddy up to an old friend at a state dinner. Once you get up close and personal with Marella, you can get a better fix on things. That woman has been through the wringer, what with that opposition group trying to assassinate her husband not once, but twice. I imagine the stress of clinging to Lodatia’s newly formed democratic government is a kind of like hanging on to a cliff, knowing that if you fall, there will be no net to catch you. Cut her some slack and do not tell her she looks awful.”
About Seelie Kay:
Seelie Kay writes about lawyers in love, with a dash of kink.
Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in nine works of fiction, including the Kinky Briefs series, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, and The President’s Wife, as well as the romance anthology, Pieces of Us.
When not spinning her kinky tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she shares a home with her son and enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
Seelie can be reached at www.seeliekay.com, www.seeliekay.blogspot.com, Twitter or Facebook.
Author links:
www.seeliekay.com
www.seeliekay.blogspot.com
Twitter: @SeelieKay https://twitter.com/SeelieKay
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/seelie.kay.77
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Seelie-Kay/e/B074RDRWNZ/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1517848564&sr=1-2-ent




Todd is one of my favorite characters. He was recently interviewed by Kayelle Allen on 
crochet, a little knitting, and crewel work as creative outlets. I stopped counting cross stitch when I had to use a magnifying glass to see the tiny little holes (oh, vanity!), but crocheting is still a relaxing activity.
endeavor for me. Mostly though, I crochet scarves and afghans—nothing greatly detailed that involves shaping, like sweaters or booties.
them it wouldn’t have to be anything too intricate, just hypoallergenic and washable. I think even I could manage that. And in that case, I would once again be using needlework as a creative outlet, but with greater ramifications.
nothing but the clothes on their backs. They crochet winter scarves and donate them to Native American schools in the Midwest where they live. And they do this on very limited incomes! Maybe we can all do a little more to help out those who have less? I’m going to try. Will you?

About Abbey MacMunn:
beach, school concerts, just hanging out with friends, dinner at Dairy Queen, talking about books. For eight years we drove nationwide as long-distance truckers where, even as tired and cranky as we were on occasion, we viewed sunrises and sunsets, wide open spaces, and horrific traffic jams all while holding hands (metaphorically).
Jack has always been there to remind me that that’s the ticket to a good life. He’s always been able to make me laugh, and that’s fun no matter if we’re dressed or not.
dentist’s office because that affords me guilt-free reading time. Five hours between flights? Gosh, that’s too bad. I guess I’ll just have to read. Thirty minutes between ordering my meal and receiving it? Darn it, I’ll be forced to open this book I have in my purse.
The reason this is such a welcome indulgence is this. Jack grew up with dyslexia in the dark days when dyslexia wasn’t really recognized as a problem. When we grew up, if you couldn’t read it was because you didn’t try hard enough, or you didn’t read enough (figure that one out!), or you were stupid. I despaired of his ever reading anything other than technical manuals or the IRS guidelines. Now, with text to speech programs, he can listen to books and we actually spend quiet evenings “reading” together. It’s a together time that I love!
Of course, I don’t look anything like this young lady (sadly), I don’t really enjoy beaches, and I burn if I’m out in the sun more than ten minutes. But I have the Kindle, so life is still good! Happy reading, summer, winter, fall, and spring!





met (met again, actually) the younger version of the man I married, I let Dear Diary know first. It was really a great thing to do.
Years. Like writing every day, I need to develop the habit of keeping a journal (“journal” sounds so much more mature than “diary”). Where is that Kick-Me-in-the-Butt machine I need to remind me of good habits to form?
and night, and never worried a bit. Within a year of having a cell phone and I nearly had hives when I realized I’d taken off from home one day and had forgotten my phone. I can’t remember a single time in years that I needed the stupid thing and suddenly it had become a technological device I was afraid to be without. Even now, when half of our town is within walking distance, I get antsy if I don’t have my phone.
was. Then hubby updated out phone contract and came home with iPhones. Now I have real addresses and email addresses in it, I read the news on it, I Google and read and yes, play Solitaire on it. I use the calendar and keep notes and set alarms. I have become attached. I hate it, but what’s a girl to do? The technological heart wants what the technological heart wants. Sigh.













