When Marine widow Monica Montgomery’s son tore his ACL sliding into home plate, the last thing she expected to find at the hospital was a second chance at love. But the six foot six orthopedic surgeon tempts her to play doctor.

Too bad her teenage daughter is hell bent on keeping the Navy Lieutenant Commander’s love boat anchored in port.

Dr. Jason Knight has patched up military men and women from Afghanistan to Okinawa. Now he faces his greatest challenge, filling the hole in the lives of this broken family.

Available for pre-order on  AMAZON


Excerpt- Changing Tides, Tamara Hoffa – No Heart Left Behind

Jason was regretting his choice of restaurant at the moment, he hoped they had the air conditioning on high because he was about to melt into a puddle of sweat in his sport coat. Holy hell when he caught sight of Monica he almost hyperventilated.

Now, she was sitting next him in his car and all he wanted to do was pull over and ravage her. Maybe it was a good thing he had the jacket on, it was hiding the bulge in his pants. As if it wasn’t enough that her hair was pulled up exposing her sexy neck that he wanted to nibble, her blouse exposed her whole shoulder and her collar bone too. God, he could make a meal of that. Kissing down her neck and into the hollow of her collar bone, shifting that top to expose… he shifted in his seat to try and relieve some of the pressure in his groin.

Monica placed her small hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He must have groaned without realizing it. He tried to laugh it off. “I’m fine, I played a pick-up game with some of the interns today, I’m just a little stiff from sitting.” Now there’s a double entendre if I ever heard one!

She began to massage his thigh. Oh, God, that was so good and so bad at the same time. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does this help?”

Jason could feel heat crawl across his face. He reached down and stilled her hand, grabbing it with his own. “Thank you, but, um, I won’t be able to walk into the restaurant if you keep that up.”

Monica looked at their joined hands and then Jason’s lap and the obvious bulge under his trousers. Deciding not to play it coy, she said. “Oh my, I can see that could be a big problem.”

“Yes, it could. So, you better behave.”

“Yes, I better. My son told me I wasn’t allowed to let you get past second base or you’d think I was a slut.”

Jason barked a laugh. “Mitchell didn’t seriously tell you that, did he?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit out of the loop. What is second base anyway?”

Monica laughed. “I haven’t been on a date since 1994, you’d have to tell me,”

“Well, then we can make up our own bases! That could be fun.”

“Okay, so first base is what? Kissing?”

“I like kissing.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” She laughed

“But, not just a peck. French kissing, the good stuff, to be first base.”

“Okay, so we are agreed, French kissing is first base,” Monica teased.

“Mmm, yes, I think that’s good,” Jason agreed.

“So, what about second base?”

Jason blushed clear to his ears. “Touching above the waist,” he stammered.

“Oh, you mean like touching my neck?” she teased. “Or my shoulders?”

“Your gorgeous breasts,” he croaked.

“Gorgeous, huh? I like that. Over the shirt or under?” she asked.

Jason cleared his throat. “Bare skin.”

“Hmm, okay. We have second base. Shall we go for third?”

“I don’t think my heart can take it,” Jason said. “Let’s leave that for our second date.”


About the Author

Tamara Hoffa


My best friend calls me “her Fairy Godmother,” but I feel more like Cinderella. After over twenty-five years of living a typical life, I now live my dreams and I create them too.

Nothing is better than creating a brand new world from a blank piece of paper. Breathing life into characters and watching their stories unfold—I am truly blessed.

I live in on eight acres in middle Tennessee with my husband, my dad, one of my three children, two dogs and three cats. I am privileged to have two precious grandsons.

When I’m not on my computer or reading my kindle, you’ll usually find me in the kitchen. I love to cook! If I’m not there, I’m on the fields, watching my grandsons’ soccer or baseball games.

It’s never too late to chase your dreams. I’m proof you can catch them, even if arthritis slows you down. Who knows, your own Fairy Godmother may be just a dream away.



Contact Links:


Facebook :







Goggle +