What’s a Crowdfunder to do? A Guest Post by @caridubiel + a #Giveaway! #books #Inkshares



What’s a Crowdfunder to Do?



Since I’ve been promoting my first novel, How to Remember, people have been asking: why crowdfunding? Why not self-publishing, or the traditional method of querying agents?



One answer: I’ve been doing both of those things. I’ve self-published a handful of short stories and a collection, and I’m active in the traditional publishing market. I wanted to do something different.



Another answer: I’m a librarian, so I study books. I looked at other books that were like mine. I write with a strong first-person voice, my characters have dry senses of humor, and there are science and mystery elements. I found a book I loved – The Punch Escrow by Tal N. Klein – and I discovered it was published by Inkshares. That’s when I knew I wanted to write for them.



But I’ve got a big hurdle to jump. I need pre-orders to qualify. That’s where my readers come in. Check out my Inkshares page, my blog, my Facebook author page. You can help me do this, and you’ll get a book at the end of it all. You could even get your name in the acknowledgments as my supporter.



I’m also running a giveaway that ends at midnight on Thursday, November 23. If you win, you’ll receive a customized book basket from me – I’ll talk to you about your interests, and I’ll pick out 2 or 3 books for you, plus some extra goodies.



Ways to enter:


-Pre-order my book (each copy receives one entry)


-Follow me on Inkshares


-Like my author page on Facebook


-Share my author page on Facebook



Happy reading!




Title: How to Remember


Author: Cari Dubiel


Genre: Domestic suspense, mystery, light science fiction



Book Blurb:


Miranda Underwood has lost a year’s worth of memories, and she’s certain her employer is behind it. MindTech uses imaging and electrical therapy to influence patients’ thoughts and feelings. Until now, Miranda has been on the other side of things, using her doctorate in neurology to help clients come to terms with mental and emotional trauma. But now that her own mind has been compromised, she won’t rest until she knows exactly what MindTech did to her and why.



One year in the past, grieving computer programmer Ben Baker can’t seem to get his life back together following his mother’s death. MindTech promises to help him heal. He’s intrigued, but unsure. It’s only after he meets Miranda in the bar next door that he becomes a client. As Miranda and Ben become closer, they discover that Ben has a deeper connection to MindTech than he realizes.




My toothbrush was gone.


As a scientist, I needed a certain amount of evidence to prove a theory. Particularly a theory such as this one: I was losing my mind. The missing toothbrush was Exhibit A, Fact Number One, the first piece of a puzzle.


I stood in my bathroom, cold, staring at the empty holder where the toothbrush used to be.


I remembered buying it at the dentist’s office. “You’re brushing too hard,” the hygienist had said. “The electric one will help you be more efficient.” I purchased it with a healthy degree of skepticism, but also with a conviction that it might work if recommended by an expert in this field. I trust experts. I worked long and hard in order to become one, in my own field.


But that was gone. And I couldn’t ignore several other facts: my heavy breasts. The fat around my waist. The sweatpants that held the fat, so lovingly and softly, like a cloud or a gentle made-in-Taiwan rug.


My mind was fuzzy, like I’d woken from one of our experiments at MindTech, like I’d been my own patient. I was gathering enough evidence for a white paper. Possibly a peer-reviewed journal article.


I padded down the stairs in my bare feet, tucking my sweater around me. Coffee would help to solve this problem. Coffee had a way of sweeping the slate, burning with its bitter and cleansing taste. Coffee would return my theory to its ephemeral status, and restore my sanity in a single sip.


When I rummaged through my cabinets, I found old cans of corn, unopened tikka masala sauce, vanilla extract. No coffee. Fact Number Two: I was indeed losing my mind. I could only find a sad old bag of decaf stuck in the back of the highest cupboard. I would never drink decaf – honestly, I didn’t even know why it existed. Someone must have brought it to a family party long ago. I shuddered and pitched it.


It was October in my quaint suburban homestead, the trademark chill of fall seeping under my windowsills and thresholds. I needed to get warm. I needed a shower and a hot drink. I was used to being up at night and staying up late on account of my job as a pseudo-counselor and a scientist who messes with people’s brains. But the morning had never felt this alien.


I picked up my phone, scrolled through my texts. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I tapped out a message to Lauren, my best friend. If I were going for coffee and she found out, she might come after me if I didn’t bring her some. I didn’t want to take that chance.


I was trying to remember if I had given my number to the guy from last night. I supposed that if I had, he would call. Unless he didn’t want to, in which case it didn’t matter. There were always more boys to save. I had a lot to atone for.


The phone jumped, vibrating in the urgent manner I had expected from my erstwhile toothbrush. The screen lit with Lauren’s name. “Hey,” I answered.


“Where have you been?”


Buy Link: https://www.inkshares.com/books/how-to-remember




Author Biography:

Cari Dubiel will read anything you put in front of her, and she writes, too! She is the author of the short story collection All the Lonely People, a Library Journal Self-E Select pick, as well as several other short pieces published in anthologies and online. Cari is a librarian in Ohio, a past Library Liaison to Sisters in Crime, and a podcaster.


Social Media:

Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/caridubielauthor/

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Cari-Dubiel/e/B01MA3LH3S




Christmas Stories: A Guest Post by Kate Parker #TuesdayBookBlog #historicalromance #Christmas

Christmas Stories by Kate Parker


We all have our memories of perfect Christmas mornings. For me, it’s only after Christmas breakfast and all the presents are unwrapped that my perfect Christmas morning begins.



I see myself snug in my flannel pjs and fluffy slippers, a nice big mug of hot tea at hand and, piled up next to me – a stack of new books smelling of fresh ink and newly cut paper. New-to-me authors, old favorites, all are welcome.



Now for reality… I’ll have to exchange my flannel pjs and fluffy slippers for a T-shirt and shorts if I don’t want to melt. I don’t care how hot it gets, I still love my hot tea. So it’ll be hot tea and an e-reader after Christmas breakfast while wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and leaving my feet bare.





My ereader will bring me tales of sled rides through the frozen wilderness, snow ball battles beneath cozy chimneys that give off picturesque, non-polluting, wispy smoke, formal balls with stolen kisses beneath the mistletoe, and the number one best Christmas gift of all, a dead body murdered by clever means.



Nothing says Christmas to me like a good fictional murder under the Christmas tree. Or under the skating pond or in a snow drift or upsetting the horses. There must be blood splashed on the snow or dripped on the ballroom floor. At least one debutante, not the heroine, must faint. If crinolines rustle and sleigh bells jingle, all the better.



The contemporary fiction equivalent is the plucky heroine marching through the snow, gun strapped to her back, stopping the nefarious plot in time to sing carols and watch nieces and nephews open gifts. Clever murders here are more of the “karma” kind, where the villain dies from his own poison, bomb, or javelin.




And the food! While I munch on Christmas foil-wrapped peanut butter cups and drink hot tea, I will read about whole roasted turkeys and wassail and cranberries and Christmas pudding with a sixpence inside. And if a cup of wassail is poisoned… Pure bliss. These foods work in either historical or contemporary stories.



In historical mysteries, the servants will be ever so grateful on Boxing Day, the children will enjoy cloth and wooden toys that don’t require batteries, and some lovely young woman will get an engagement ring either before or after the discovery of the body. The placement of the engagement is dependent on whether said lovely young woman is a sleuth or involved in the murder.



In contemporary holiday tales, the ending shows children either teaching grandparents how to use the newest electronic gear they received as presents or willingly setting down cell phones to spend time in the family’s traditional group endeavor. If it involves ice skating or football in the snow, so much the better.



In Christmas mysteries, words like “dreary” will be balanced out with words like “sparkling.” There will be plenty of snow between the pages to overcome the sunny and mild temperatures outside my door. Icicles will dangle from the roof – unless they’ve been used as a dagger.



Just writing this post has put me in the mood for Christmas. I hope Santa is bringing me lots of murder and mayhem this year for my e-reader, and I hope he is just as generous with your stocking. Whether your favorites are romance, mystery, sci fi, fantasy, or something else, may you have plenty of it to enjoy on Christmas morning.



Kate Parker






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Title – Christmas Revels IV : Four Regency Novellas

Author – Hannah Meredith, Anna D. Allen, Kate Parker, Louisa Cornell

Genre – Historical Romance

Publisher – Singing Spring Press


Book Blurb —

The Revels Continue…

The Sergeant’s Christmas Bride – Sergeant Jacob Burrows just wants a place to bed down for the night. He never expects to be confronted by a lady with a gun. Elizabeth FitzWalter intends to drive the stranger off her land, until she realizes he meets her most pressing need.


Home for Christmas – When Charity Fletcher receives a mysterious bequest—a house by the sea—she hopes to rebuild her life. Lord Gilbert Narron leases a seaside house to hide from his memories of war. Charity’s refuge is Gil’s bolt-hole… but what both are seeking is a home for their hearts.



A Memorable Christmas Season –The last thing Lady Roekirk expects at her Christmas party is a dead traitor in her parlor… or the Crown’s Spymaster helping her hide the body. Thirty years earlier, she’d been forced to wed another and Lord Keyminster became a spy. After this long, does their love stand a chance?


A Perfectly Unforgettable Christmas – Every day, Lucien Rollinsby endures a memory of Christmas Eve. Not even his lovely new neighbor can make him forget that horrible night five years ago. Caroline McAlasdair remembers that Christmas Eve, too. But if Lucien recalls her presence there, it will destroy their only chance at happiness forever.


Buy Links –

Amazon – http://a.co/h2H98jd

 Apple iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/christmas-revels-iv-four-regency-novellas/id1289152547?mt=11

Barns and Nobles – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-revels-iv-hannah-meredith/1127145055?ean=2940154556139

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36302269-christmas-revels-iv

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/christmas-revels-iv-four-regency-novellas


Author Biography –

Kate Parker first discovered another world in her mother’s murder mysteries written by Christie, Sayers, and the other ladies. Now she loves to time travel, via books, to murder and mayhem in Mayfair ballrooms and country estates, English villages and trains pulled by steam engines. This love has propelled her to write her own stories set in Britain in the Regency, the 1890s, the 1900s, and the 1930s, and she’d like you to come along and visit the olden days.


See what stories Kate has out at www.KateParkerbooks.com  and www.Facebook.com/Author.Kate.Parker/




Top 10 Reasons I Love #Thanksgiving: A Guest Post by @RuthACasie #books #romance



The top 10 reasons I love Thanksgiving! 


We celebrate the Friday after. 

At our house we celebrate Thanksgiving the day after turkey day. We started the tradition as a compromise for my kids and their in-laws. They were conflicted about where to spend Thanksgiving. No one wanted to miss dinner with their family. We talked about brunch in the morning or later in the day. That just wasn’t the same. Instead I opted for the day after. It was not a hardship. I did it selfishly. This way I have them all to myself. My kids and their in-laws love the idea. 


No turkey! 

This year’s menu is roast leg of lamb and brisket. (It’s the same every year. I’m forbidden to change it.) That’s another benefit of celebrating the day after. No turkey. Everyone’s had their fill on Thursday. I can be a bit more creative with the menu. Although the family still demands mulled cider, sweet potato souffle and noodle pudding. 


Everyone moves back home. 

Our son and his girlfriend drive down from Boston. Our older daughter and our two grandchildren are only forty minutes away, but they come home and move in for the weekend. Our two daughters and their families (they only live thirty minutes away) move home for the weekend. It will definitely be a houseful but I wouldn’t want it any other way. 


Butternut Squash Soup.

Our younger daughter added this to our menu two years ago. My cooking is all done when she comes in with all the mixings and makes the soup. 


My older grandkids help in the kitchen.

Well, maybe not my grandson. He prefers to hang out with his uncle and play ball across the street in the park. My older granddaughter sets the table, makes place cards and watch her cousin so her aunt can help in the kitchen 


The coffee runs to Dunkin Donuts and late night outings to the local ice cream shop.  

Our son goes to our local DD and brings home a selection of coffees for us while we finish cooking. It’s always a surprise. Since our dinner is midafternoon, my husband takes the grandkids to the ice cream shop to bring back more surprises. I could easily have the ice cream at the house, but I think he uses it as an excuse to spend some alone time with two big kids. 


Time together.

After dinner we flop on the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn. My husband tries to get a Scrabble game going but he loses out to game. 


Sunday Night.

With all this tumult and cooking, did I mention the mandatory French toast Saturday morning I start to look forward to Sunday night when they all go home?


Four more weeks.

Thank goodness they’ll all be back in four weeks for the holidays and we do this again. This time with presents! 


It’s all magical to me. 

At our day after Thanksgiving dinner, I sit and look at family around the table and beam with pride. I’d be happy not to eat, just enjoy them. This is what I’m most thankful for, my dear husband who supports me in everything I do, my children and their spouses who make me laugh until I cry, and my three grandchildren who are blessings.  



I hope your Thanksgiving is delicious and wonderful. 




Title: The Highlander’s English Woman 

Author: Ruth A. Casie  

Genre: Historical Fantasy Romance 


Book Blurb: 

Laura Reynolds is in love with her long-time friend, Jamie Maxwell Collins. She adores his playful sense of humor, caring nature as well as his strong sense of family and honor. 


Jamie lives across the border in Scotland. Outwardly carefree, he hides a dark secret. He can’t involve Laura in this deception. He can’t give her hope for a future together. 


Laura stumbles upon Jamie’s secret. In her heart of hearts she knows Jamie is innocent. Their relationship in tatters and with no hope of reconciliation, she plays a deadly game to exonerate Jamie, she agrees to a political marriage. She has no idea the entire game has been orchestrated by her future husband, Jamie’s greatest enemy. 



He opened the cemetery gate and made his way to the small building where the 9th century remains of William the Brave rested. In the building was a hidden passage that led inside the castle. A dangerous place for boys to play. He and Richard prided themselves on being the only people aware these tunnels existed. Forgotten over the centuries, it had taken them weeks to clean out the debris and shore it up to make it usable. 


The hair on the back of his neck stood. Someone was with him inside the cemetery. He crouched behind a tombstone. In the distance, a dark shadow proceeded along the path. 


Jamie took stock of the man as he made his way to the Reynolds’ family graves. He thought at first Reeve came to pay his respect to Richard, but the form was all wrong. This shadow was bigger, more agile. The man stopped and waited. For whom? For what? 


Jamie moved for a closer look. His brushed against a tombstone and knocked loose pebbles that rested on the top to the ground. In the complete silence, the cascade of stones sounded like boulders echoing in a valley. 


In an easy, elegant move, the man drew his sword. No, this wasn’t Reeve. Jamie did the same. 


The darkening shadows made it impossible for Jamie to identify who he fought. That didn’t stop either man. His attacker put him on the defense. Jamie retreated in a matter of seconds. 


Jamie and the shadow parried and lunged. Evenly matched, neither gave signs of tiring. Several times he almost had the man, only to have him bound over an obstacle and come back for more. 


Just like… 


“For a moment I thought you fought like Lord Richard,” Jamie said. The man answered with a barrage of strikes. 


But Jamie held his ground. He fought stroke for stroke until they came into a close battle position, the hilts of their swords locked against their chests. Clouds moved and the man’s face was revealed under the moonlight. 


Jamie dropped his sword and froze. His heart pounded. The man threw his head back and laughed. 




The laughter subsided. Richard put his arm around Jamie and squeezed him close. “I wonder if Father has any ale? How I would love to taste it one more time.” 


Buy Links: 

Amazon/Kindle: https://amzn.com/B01LXYHNGS 


Amazon Print: http://a.co/am0MfIq 


iBook: http://apple.co/2eddatE 


BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-highlanders-english-woman-ruth-a-casie/1125365584?ean=2940157490539 


Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-highlander-s-english-woman 


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Author Biography: 

RUTH A. CASIE is a USA Today bestselling author of swashbuckling action-adventure time-travel romance about strong empowered women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all. Her Druid Knight novels have both finaled in the NJRW Golden Leaf contest. The Guardian’s Witch, part of the Stelton Legacy series was a Reader’s Crown Finalist. Ruth also writes contemporary romance in the Havenport series with enough action to keep you turning pages. Ruth lives in New Jersey with her husband, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she started writing time travel romance, she was a speech therapist, international bank product and marketing manager, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now—writing time travel romance. For more information, please visit www.RuthACasie.com or visit her on Facebook, @RuthACasie, Twitter, @RuthACasie, or Pinterest RuthACasie. 


Social Media Links: 

Website: http:// www.ruthacasie.com  


Personal Blog:  http://www.ruthacasie.blogspot.com  


Google+ https://plus.google.com/+RuthSeitelman 


Twitter:  http://www.twitter.com/RuthACasie  


FB Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/RuthACasie  


LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/ruth-seitelman/6/6b7/964  


Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/ruthacasie/  


GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4792909.Ruth_A_Casie 


Mint Cookie Murder by USA Today Bestseller @LeslieLangtry is a Sweet Deal! #cozymystery #99c

Mint Cookie Murder Sale



Author Leslie Langtry

Genre Cozy Comedy

Publisher Gemma Halliday Publishing


Book Blurb 

Ex-CIA agent turned suburban scout leader, Merry Wrath, is just trying to live a normal, quiet life. But all that goes out the window when a convicted traitor (who’s inconveniently not in his prison cell) dies on her doorstep, and an obese cat, who bears a disturbing resemblance to Hitler, decides to move in.

To make things worse, it’s time for the annual troop cookie sale, her new boyfriend’s old college flame shows up to win him back, and someone’s shooting at Merry in the frozen foods section of the grocery store. Is the assassin after her or the cat? Is Riley, her hot former CIA handler, hitting on her? Is Rex, her boyfriend, going to dump her? Will she sell enough cookies to take her troop to Winter Sniper Camp? If Merry doesn’t find answer to these questions soon, it may be too late!



As a former CIA operative, I’ve heard a lot of statements that have chilled me as though I had a foot-long icicle down my throat while sitting naked and wet on an ice floe. (By the way—don’t go to Greenland. Ever.) Things like, Open up! It’s the police, and we have a flamethrower! and Tell me the code or I’ll have to use this pair of pliers on your eyelids. All terrifying under normal circumstances, but throw in the Iranian secret police or a Venezuelan death squad dressed as circus clowns, and they have a smidge more gravitas.


But nothing…nothing compares to what I was just told.


“What do you mean we have to sell cookies?” I asked Kelly with a slight tremble in my voice. “To people? On purpose?”


My best friend and co-leader rolled her eyes. “Girl Scout Cookies. Our troop has to sell them.”


“Why on Earth would we want to do that?” I asked, backing up against the kitchen wall. I was starting to regret never having put in hidden panels with weapons around the house. But then Kelly would just laugh at me if I pulled a garrote on her.


“Because it’s a fundraiser for us and for the Council.” She pointed to the stack of order forms and the colorful brochure showing the prizes the girls get for selling so many boxes. I started flipping through the flier. Tiny pewter owls? Why does a little girl need one tiny pewter owl? Unless the purpose is to melt it down into one tiny, pewter bullet—then it sorta makes sense. And what’s with all the sticker books? Diabolical! I can only see a child’s access to 101 stickers turning into a nightmare of epic proportions. Oh wait! Dora the Explorer stickers! I looked up at my Dora bedsheet curtains and cringed. I really need to buy drapes.


“How do we sell cookies?” I asked. “Set up a store somewhere?” I had no idea how something like this worked. It kinda sounded like a scam, actually. Selling certain cookies only one time a year. Give them a taste, and then demand turns into desperation. Hmmm…also diabolical. I knew international villains who could learn something from the Girl Scouts.


“We go door-to-door,” Kelly sighed. “Take the forms to work. Call our friends and beg or blackmail them.”


Definitely a scam. I shook my head. “I don’t have any friends besides you, Rex, and Riley.” I wondered if I had enough blackmail material to get Riley to take the form to Langley to sell among the other spooks. I mean, I had some good stuff (like photos from the time he overused self-tanner for a job on the Riviera and looked like an Oompa Loompa), but did I have enough?


“Wait!” I said as I studied the form. “People have to give their names, addresses, and phone numbers?” No one in the CIA would do that. We can’t even tell spouses and children what we do for a living.


“You’ll have to do it.” I shoved the whole mess toward my best friend and troop co-leader. “I’ll do the behind the scenes work. Like the incentives and inventory, fear and intimidation, blackmail sales, wet work, and stuff.”


Kelly rolled her eyes. I got the distinct impression she wasn’t taking me seriously. “No wet work—no spy stuff! We’re just selling cookies!”


I winked at her. “Right.” I placed my index finger on my lips and looked around. “Just selling cookies.” I winked again for emphasis.


Kelly rolled her eyes and sighed the sigh of 100 martyrs. “Look, we have to do it. I know you don’t want to. But it’s non-negotiable. If you want to do all the things you’ve planned with this troop and you don’t want to pay for it yourself, we have to do this fundraiser.”


She put her hands on her hips, a sign I knew meant that this conversation was over, and I had lost. And she was right. Even if she wasn’t. Kelly was right. She always won.


“I’m not planning anything expensive…” I moped.


My best friend’s right eyebrow bent upwards. “Oh really? What about the winter survival skills campout?”


I shrugged. “That’s a totally legit idea.”


“In Newfoundland?” Kelly asked. “And your equipment list is ridiculous.” She numbered the items off. “Snow shoes and cross-country skis for each girl…sleeping bags with a 50-degrees-below-zero rating…white sniper camouflage suits…”


“Hey!” I protested. “Those are important!”


Kelly ignored me. “And I’m not even going to mention flying in some Israeli Mossad agent you know to teach a weekend-long class on self-defense to second-grade girls.”


I lifted my chin and sniffed. “It’s called Krav Maga—and he’s the world’s foremost expert. How do you expect these girls to survive a kidnapping attempt?”


Kelly narrowed her eyes. Uh-oh. Why did I have to bring that up?


“Well, I guess they could’ve used that a few months ago when you dragged them into a gunfight with the CIA and local SWAT team.”


I slumped. She was right. Totally my fault there. I still felt bad for that one. It didn’t matter that the girls thought it had been the best day of their lives.


Kelly’s voice softened. “Look, all I’m saying is that these things cost money. And we can raise some of that by doing what Girl Scouts have been doing for a century—selling cookies.”


“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you have to be in charge.”


Buy Links

Get your copy for only 99cents!

Amazon:  http://amzn.com/B010IZZYXE


B & N:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mint-cookie-murder-leslie-langtry/1121817683?cm_mmc=affiliates--linkshare--krkiohaarac-_-10%3a1&ean=2940151889353&isbn=2940151889353&r=1


itunes:  https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/mint-cookie-murder/id989417348?mt=11&at=&ct=&ign-mpt=uo%3D6


Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mint-cookie-murder-1


Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Leslie_Langtry_Mint_Cookie_Murder?id=nddICgAAQBAJ&hl=en


Leslie Langtry


Author Biography

Leslie Langtry is the USA Today Bestselling Author of three cozy comedy mystery series. Originally from Iowa, she currently lives in Illinois with her family and a menagerie of loveable but dysfunctional pets. Leslie is a rabid knitter, voracious reader, humble Girl Scout volunteer and has been known to walk llamas, visit haunted houses and eat cake. A lot of cake. Not kidding…she really loves cake. Find out more about Leslie at http://www.leslielangtry.com.


Social Media Links





Twelfth Night – The Lost Holiday: A Guest Post by Hannah Meredith #historicalromance #books

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Twelfth Night – The Lost Holiday: A Guest Post by Hannah Meredith


Long before there was Father Christmas or Santa Claus…


Long before we dragged evergreen trees into the house and decorated them…


And long, long before merchants hung bells and bows and began playing holiday music in October…


There was Twelfth Night—the biggest bash of all!


Twelfth Night has its roots in the ancient Roman mid-winter festival of Saturnalia. With the rise of Christianity, portions of this pagan celebration were incorporated into the Christmas Season. One idea that persisted involved a reversal of the social order for a night—the world turned upside down. This tradition initially appeared in The Feast of Fools in early January and finally morphed into the King of the Twelfth Night celebration being chosen by lot instead of by status. This king, sometimes called the Lord of Misrule, had brief but unlimited power to demand that others do ridiculous things.


By the Middle Ages, Christmastide had been firmly established as the period between Christmas Day and Epiphany—December 25th to January 6th. This was the original Twelve Days of Christmas, which we’re familiar with today primarily because of the song. People enjoyed being with family and friends during this season, as we still do, but since travel was so slow and difficult, they made their trip worthwhile and usually stayed for all twelve days. Twelfth Night took place on the night before the guests departed, and everyone for miles around was invited. The knights and their ladies of medieval England and France would have been well-acquainted with this often-raucous party.


All dressed in their best. A huge feast was served, which concluded with the Twelfth Cake, also called the King Cake. A bean or coin or small medallion of the baby Jesus was hidden in this giant, elaborate cake, and the person who found this token was named the Lord of Misrule or King for the night. Wassail, a potent, ale-based punch, was generously served. There was dancing and singing, frequently spilling out into the streets of nearby towns.


Plays were performed. By the Elizabethan period, these customs were so well-ingrained that Shakespeare wrote Twelfth Night to be performed on this night.


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With minor variations, this Christmastide tradition continued for hundreds of years. In the 1600’s, the diarist Samuel Pepys complained about the cost of the meal he provided at Twelfth Night. The custom was transferred across the Atlantic, and a hundred years later, Martha Washington recorded the recipe for a giant Twelfth Cake that required forty eggs, four pounds of sugar, five pounds of dried fruit, and an untold amount of flour. Jane Austen discussed Twelfth Night in her novels and letters.


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By the 19th century, a greater number of people wanted to be involved in the mischief and instead of finding one or two tokens hidden in the cake, people drew slips of paper—and later printed cards provided by enterprising stationers—to “become” a stereotypical character for the night. The feasting, drinking, dancing, and general hilarity remained intact.



And then, in 1870, Queen Victoria proclaimed Twelfth Night un-Christian and had it removed from the list of recognized British holidays. I don’t doubt that this now “unofficial” holiday hung on for a while, but it had become socially unacccetable and slowly disappeared. The last day of the Christmas Season and its attendent party devolved to New Year’s Eve. Different Christmas traditions like Santa Claus and the Christmas Tree came to the fore.


Over time, commercialism pushed the start of the Christmas season earlier and earlier. Many of the large, big-box stores now have their holiday displays up before the end of October. Brainwashed by the apparent need to rush the season, most people in my area begin putting up their Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving. No wonder everything starts coming down on December 26th. All of the greenery has turned into brownery.


Sadly, the tradtions of the Twelve Days of Christmas and Twelfth Night seem to have been lost…


But no! I contend they are simply hiding.


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In 1870, the same year Victoria sought to eliminate Twelfth Night, the Twelfth Night Revelers in New Orleans, Louisiana, formalized the start of Carnival on January 6th. The King Cake and its attendent tradtions became part of this festival. In some ways, therefore, the Twelfth Night celebrations have been extended to cover the entire time until Mardi Gras.


A vast number of people either in or from Spanish Speaking countries exuberantly celebrate “El Dia de los Reyes” (Three Kings’ Day) on Janurary 6th.  The day begins with parades and performances and ends with a feast, after which a special desert is served—Kings’ Bread, in which is hidden a figurine of the baby Jesus.


Hmm, this is sounding pretty familiar. If Twelfth Night is hiding, it is doing so in plain sight.


And I’m doing my part.


If you were to drive by my house on the night of Janurary 6th, you’d notice it is fully decorated and the house is alight, a large number of people are arriving to partake of a feast, and all are enjoying Twelfth Night, the last day of Christmas and one of the biggest bashes of all.



Title – Christmas Revels IV : Four Regency Novellas

Author – Hannah Meredith, Anna D. Allen, Kate Parker, Louisa Cornell

Genre – Historical Romance

Publisher– Singing Spring Press


Book Blurb –                                                       


The Revels Continue…


The Sergeant’s Christmas Bride – Sergeant Jacob Burrows just wants a place to bed down for the night. He never expects to be confronted by a lady with a gun. Elizabeth FitzWalter intends to drive the stranger off her land, until she realizes he meets her most pressing need.


Home for Christmas – When Charity Fletcher receives a mysterious bequest—a house by the sea—she hopes to rebuild her life. Lord Gilbert Narron leases a seaside house to hide from his memories of war. Charity’s refuge is Gil’s bolt-hole… but what both are seeking is a home for their hearts.



A Memorable Christmas Season –The last thing Lady Roekirk expects at her Christmas party is a dead traitor in her parlor… or the Crown’s Spymaster helping her hide the body. Thirty years earlier, she’d been forced to wed another and Lord Keyminster became a spy. After this long, does their love stand a chance?


A Perfectly Unforgettable Christmas – Every day, Lucien Rollinsby endures a memory of Christmas Eve. Not even his lovely new neighbor can make him forget that horrible night five years ago. Caroline McAlasdair remembers that Christmas Eve, too. But if Lucien recalls her presence there, it will destroy their only chance at happiness forever.


Buy Links –

Amazon – http://a.co/h2H98jd


Apple iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/christmas-revels-iv-four-regency-novellas/id1289152547?mt=11


Barns and Nobles – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-revels-iv-hannah-meredith/1127145055?ean=2940154556139


Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/christmas-revels-iv-four-regency-novellas


Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36302269-christmas-revels-iv


Merrys Ship Photo 3 Facebook 3


Author Biography –

Hannah Meredith’s father wanted her to be a doctor, so she dutifully trekked off to Southern Methodist University with this in mind—but somehow ended up with a Master’s Degree in English and minors in history and religion. Along the way, she’d discovered she was not really fascinated by the actual “insides” of people, but rather by the people themselves and the stories they made of their lives.


The story of her life has been a happy one. She married her high school sweetheart and they have recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. They have one wonderful son and four clever grandchildren. They moved around the mid-South as her husband’s career advanced but are now permanently located in a charming North Carolina town. She’s taught at the high school and college level and sold real estate, always staying very busy.


Then life slowed down… and she had the opportunity to write some of the stories she’d been imagining for years. Under another name, she sold over a dozen speculative fiction short stories to major Science Fiction and Fantasy magazines. She now concentrates on historical romance. She currently has five romances available: Kestrel, Indentured Hearts, Kaleidoscope, A Dangerous Indiscretion, and the newest, Song of the Nightpiper, which is a fantasy romance with a medieval setting.  Hannah’s novellas have also appeared in all four of the Christmas Revels anthologies



Social Media Links –

Website – http://www.hannahmeredith.com

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/HannahMeredithAuthor

#AuthorInterview: Meet @PeterPerrin44 and His Upcoming Release #romance #FridayReads #books

Author Interview


I love meeting authors, especially from all over the world. I met Peter through a friend and when he told me about his upcoming release, Grace’s Turmoil, I knew I had to interview him. He’s lived such a fascinating life and now can add published author to his many accomplishments. Sit down and join us for a chat. Take it away, Peter:


How important are names to you in your books? Do you choose the names based on liking the way it sounds or the meaning?

The names, especially of the main characters, are highly important. Firstly, I research names appropriate to the year/period the book is set in and the nationality of the character. Then I look at the character profile and character interview I have created and try to visualise the character. And, then I derive a shortlist of names and from that road test a final name on my wife.


What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?

Beyond any shadow of doubt it is writing my debut novel, Grace’s Turmoil, and getting it published. This is because I have never done any serious writing before or read even one romance novel. Oh, and not to mention that I’m getting my very first novel accepted at the age of seventy-three having only submitted this one book to a single publisher.


Are you a plotter or a pantster?

There’s no doubt in my mind that I am by nature a pantster. I started Grace’s Turmoil with only the vaguest concept and no plot. The manuscript came together initially as little more than a series of conversations, linked by a small amount of narrative. Sadly, as the book developed, I found I had to delete or seriously rewrite a huge amount of the content as it ran into dead ends or failed to make sense. Because of all this, the book probably took at least twice as long to write as it should have done. Although I’m sure I’ll never be a fully- fledged planner I intend to do things differently in subsequent books.



Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? What is it?

That’s easy. It would be Erotica. I wouldn’t feel comfortable writing about graphic sex, let alone having to discuss it with others who critique my work.


Do you have a favorite spot to write? What is it?

Yes, but technically I have two, for different reasons. For uninterrupted peace and quiet and access to the internet, my files for research, and my laptop, it must be my home office. But, for scribbling notes and conceiving ideas I can’t beat sitting by a lake while fishing for carp. If I’m having a quiet day fishing I can get my creative juices going without being distracted by such things as an overwhelming desire to play my online multiplayer game or pretend I am Lara Croft on my PlayStation 4.


Is there a certain type of scene that’s harder for you to write than others? Love? Action? Racy?

Yes. Sex scenes are hard for me to write. Maybe I’m not emotive enough or perhaps I’m too old-fashioned and prudish. Given that for the foreseeable future my main characters (and most minor characters) will be over sixty it would be hard for me to feel comfortable or credible writing strong sex scenes. So, much of the sex written about in my books will be hinted at or described minimally and as tastefully as possible.



Is this your first book? How many books have you written prior (if any?)

Yes. ‘Grace’s Turmoil’ is my debut novel, but it is being published as Book 1 of a series entitled ‘Not Too Old for Love’. The plan being to write primarily about the characters who share The Grange Retirement Village with Grace and Alfred in this novel.


What are you working on now? What is your next project?

I’m not great at multi-tasking so I’ve not done much formal writing over the past few months while editing and proofing has been going on. But I have scribbled quite a few snatches of dialogue, fragments of scenes, and random ideas in a notebook. So, I have at least got something to kickstart Book Two of the planned series. And I know who will be the main characters for Book Three, and have had requests for certain characters in this book to get their own books. It’s conceivable that what started off as a one-off book, to see if I could write one at my age, has the potential to stretch to between three and five books.


Do you drink? Smoke? What’s your vice?

I’ve never been much of a drinker, even in my days in the Royal Air Force (RAF). And nowadays I’m pretty much teetotal, and my hero in ‘Grace’s Turmoil’ has a real bee in his bonnet about heavy drinking.

I’ve smoked a little over the years, mostly in my days in the RAF. But even there I was more of a social smoker than a serious one, even in the social clubs or sergeants mess. Sadly, despite the small amount of smoking I ever did the effects of passive smoking caught up with me a few years ago. And, although I managed to avoid lung cancer, I now have a lung condition called COPD that I have to cope with.


What is your biggest fear?

It used to be getting cancer. But as I’ve got older and I’ve seen friends succumb to Alzheimer’s disease so that has become my fear. Ironically, I suspect it wouldn’t be too bad for me personally if I succumbed to full blown Alzheimer’s as I’d be oblivious to the condition. But my family would be the one’s to feel it most, especially my wife of almost forty years, my beloved Ann. The worst thing would be being at the stage where I had moments of lucidity and knew they would get shorter and less frequent until they disappeared forever.


What do you want your tombstone to say?

My favourite expression is “Youth passes, but with luck immaturity can last a lifetime.” So, I guess it would have to be something like “He was still waiting to grow up, but he ran out of time.”


Where is one place you want to visit that you haven’t been before?

I would love to visit the International Space Station, some two-hundred-and-twenty miles above the earth. To gaze down at our own planet and see it spread out like a giant atlas would be awesome.


If you were an animal, what would you be and why?

It would have to be an elephant. My memory has never been good, and it has got a lot worse as I’ve aged. It has been established that elephants have remarkable memories for some things. For example, two elephants met at an animal sanctuary and got excited about seeing each other. Investigations proved they had last met while working at a circus, twenty-three years before. I would settle for a memory a fraction as good as that, and my wife would be a lot happier as well.

If you could have any name in the world, what would you choose?

Pierre le Grande. Not because of its piracy connection, or even because my family is apparently of French decent. But, because I love the ring of it. And as a Peter myself being Peter the Great would be cool.


What do you dream? Do you have any recurring dreams/nightmares?

I rarely recall more than fragments of my dreams. But from what bits I do remember, and my wife’s description of my actions, it would seem they are always violent, and action filled. I love Tomb Raider on my PlayStation 4, and World of Warcraft on my laptop. So, maybe I’m just acting out the games. It would be nice if my dreams helped me play the games better.


 Graces Turmoil (4)


Title. Grace’s Turmoil: Not Too Old for Love, Book One.

Author. Peter Perrin

Genre. Contemporary Romance. (Seasoned Romance).

Publisher. Devine Destinies.


Book Blurb.

Divorced and emotionally damaged, artist Grace Stollery wants nothing more than to spend her semi-retirement painting and let time heal her emotional scars.



But when dashing widower Alfred Nobel moves into her retirement village he turns her life upside down and her heart inside out by awakening feelings she wants to keep dormant.



Alfred quickly sets out to woo Grace and slowly she warms to him. But the village’s resident femme fatale wants him for herself. Will she succeed in driving a wedge between Alfred and Grace?




Chapter One


Grace jabbed at the volume button on the remote control, turning up the sound on the television. She was trying to drown out the chatter which filled the palatial residents’ lounge. It had been like that for days, and she’d grown tired of it. Who would have thought the imminent arrival of one man could affect mature ladies like that?


One of the things which had appealed to her when she moved to The Grange retirement village was the lack of men. Yet a man who aroused feelings in her she didn’t want was going to add to their number.


Grace had caught a glimpse of him across The Lounge a few months ago, taking the standard tour of the seventeenth century mansion that now housed The Grange. He’d towered over the young woman he’d been with, and she’d guessed he was at least six-foot-five. Built like a tank, with a mass of wavy white hair and a snow-white beard, he’d reminded her of a polar bear. His presence had been overpowering and almost menacing. An image of him defending the old mansion in days gone by had jumped into her mind.


Looking at him had sent a spontaneous burst of attraction rippling through her. It had caught her by surprise. Becoming attracted to anybody was the last thing she’d needed right then. Her divorce had been too recent and too painful. All she wanted was to focus on her painting to block out the pain. Although she hadn’t come there to look for a man, there was no denying how she’d reacted to the sight of him. She wondered how she would cope when they met. And she couldn’t help feeling he was going to have quite an impact on her life. Whether it would be a good impact or not was the million-dollar question. He might be the greatest thing since sliced bread! Or he could turn out to be a snake in the grass like her ex-husband.


It wasn’t only the divorce which caused her to temper her excitement at his arrival with caution. Being a Pisces, her emotions were her weak spot, and she’d tended to fantasise about her love life. Her relationships had always been traumatic until she had married, at the age of forty. Then, for the first time in her life, she experienced stability and calmness. She’d thought she had a good marriage. Then everything had fallen apart. She was in no rush to risk such heartache again—in no hurry to get involved once more.


Grace stared at her watch for the umpteenth time and fidgeted in her over-padded chair. She peeked around a heavy curtain and glanced out of the massive sash window yet again. But she couldn’t see any sign of him. Frustrated, she tried to put him out of her mind and focus on watching Bargain Hunt. It was one of her favourite programmes, and she always tried to guess which of the teams would win. The persistent buzz of women’s voices filled her head. And she had to concentrate hard to follow the programme. But even then, she had to turn the volume up high to be able to hear it. In a fit of pique, she slammed the remote down onto the arm of her chair.


Grace became aware of movement out of the corner of one eye. When she turned around, she saw the General Manager, Sara Novak, and the man she’d been thinking about. The sight of him made her cheeks grow hot, and she turned away to look at the screen. As she did so, she realised Tim Wonnacott was about to announce the winning team. Then she felt something brush past her arm and the screen went blank. She spun around and saw Sara holding the remote.


“What did you do that for?” Grace snapped.


Sara blushed. “I’m sorry, Grace…and anybody else who was watching that programme. But we don’t often get so many residents in one place at the same time. So I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce our newest resident. This is Air Commodore Alfred Nobel.”


Alfred smiled and threw the residents a mock salute, by way of greeting.


“Alfred is a widower and a senior ex-Royal Air Force officer,” Sara continued. “I’m sure he’ll make a welcome addition to our small group of gentlemen residents. He’s an accomplished ballroom dancer—a talent some of our ladies will appreciate.”


Sara’s announcement created quite a buzz among the ladies. “I’ll bring Alfred around to meet as many of you as possible before lunch,” she said in conclusion.


Grace rose to her feet and faced Sara and Alfred.



Buy Links

Publisher’s Book Page http://www.devinedestinies.com/coming-soon/grace-s-turmoil/

(Links coming in late December)


Author Biography

Peter Perrin writes sweet, seasoned romances involving larger-than-life mature characters who will make you rethink your views on older people in a positive way. His characters are mature in age but not necessarily in their behaviour. They may not be in the first flush of youth but that doesn’t stop some of them acting like hormonal teenagers.


Peter was born in Romford, in the county of Essex, England. For nearly twenty years he has lived with his wife of almost forty years in a quiet suburb of Swindon, in the county of Wiltshire, in England. He is a father and grandfather.


He is a former member of The Royal Air Force who has served in the UK, and in Madagascar, Singapore, and Saudi Arabia. He was also stationed for two years in Aden—which nowadays is part of Yemen.


After almost fifteen-years’ service in The Royal Air Force Peter worked in Engineering, Quality Control, and Procurement Management, not to mention myriad smaller jobs in between those careers.


Now retired Peter’s interests are Writing, Carp Fishing, and (despite being in his early seventies) PC and PlayStation games.


His favourite quote is “Youth passes, but with luck, immaturity can last a lifetime.”


Social Media Links

Website: https://peterperrin.blog

Blog:  https://peterperrin.blog

Twitter: https://twitter.com/peterperrin44

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PeterPerrin44/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/peterperrin/


Charm School Night Play Lesson 3 by @LynnCarmer #romance #eroticromance #romanticcomedy

Charm School_3


Title: Charm School Night Play Lesson 3

Author: Lynn Carmer

Genre: Multicultural Romance/ Romantic Comedy/ Erotic Romance


Book Blurb:

She wants a sizzling fling…


Athena Calvo is as tough as nails.


She’s also newly divorced and emotionally vulnerable. To get herself back out on the dating scene, she volunteers to teach the next charm school class: Sensation Play. She immerses herself in blindfolds, silk scarves, wax play, and more! She knows Tommy Lagos wants to help her with hands-on research, but she’s looking for a short term commitment. There’s just one problem.


He wants forever…


Tommy Lagos never takes life too seriously.


He is a beast in the ring and between the sheets. His shredded muscles and wicked charm have taken him far, but behind his cocky grin lives ambition, fire, and a drive to fight for everything that matters—especially Athena. He knows he can seduce her into giving him more than a few days.


He will own her body, one blindfold at a time, but will he be able to seduce her into risking her guarded heart?



Tommy’s eyes ran over the goddess standing in front of him, her burnt lilac hair brushing her tattooed shoulder. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m gonna make her mine. “I meant what I said. I want to help you with the class.”


Athena looked down and scuffed her shoe against the damp grass. “Tommy, listen, you’re a great guy—”


“Dare told me what it’s about.”


Her head snapped up. “What exactly did he tell you?”


“He told me about the past two classes, and the…subject of each class.” He was getting hot under his non-existent collar, not from embarrassment but because he imagined Athena experimenting with him.


“He told you what my class is about?”


He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Hell, yeah. That’s the first thing I asked.”


“And you understand”—her searing gaze swept down his primed body—“what that means?”


He stepped forward, his fists clenched. “Intimately.”


“From research or experience?”


He grinned, loving how she gnawed at her plump, bottom lip. “I’m an MMA trainer, stressing kinetic learning in all of my classes. That means hands-on. Always.” He traced a finger along her cheek and over the stubborn cleft in her chin. “Let me help you.”


She shook her head and took two big steps back. “I think there are no bigger con artists on the planet than the Lagos’ boys.”


“Trust me.” Tommy’s Spider-sense was tingling. Her cheeks were flushed, she was having a hard time meeting his eyes. She would never admit it, but she was interested.


Then she knocked him on his butt by demanding, “Prove it.”


“Here? Now?” He looked over at her and the hotdog-shaped dog at her feet.


“See? You have no idea what sensation play is or you’d have listed five different techniques already. Like I said. Con artist.” She adjusted her mutt’s collar. “Come on, Fitzy, I’m done with amateur hour.”


Tommy’s whole body went on alert. Athena was fire, a barely banked inferno. He could feel the smoldering blaze living under her bronzed skin, and he only had minutes to convince her to give him a chance. Because he wanted to revel in that firestorm, bask in it for as long as she’d let him. He blocked her path and stepped in close.


“If you’re a beginner, I recommend, silk scarves, rose petals, maybe some feathers that I would trail over your skin.”


Athena stutter-stepped and came to a halt.


“When you’re comfortable, I’ll use something a little more intense, ice cubes, hot wax…”


Her breath shallowed, her chest rising and falling with each indrawn breath. She slowly turned, her hazel eyes narrowing in on him.


He was greedy for more than just her gaze. “When you trust me, when you truly give your body to mine, I’ll cover your beautiful eyes and tie you up. Mute your hearing so…”




“No.” His head spun, the sizzle of her heated skin only inches from his. He would get past her defenses. Athena’s reservations were more than shallow excuses. “I’m defending myself.”


Her breath hitched, and she stepped forward.


“We may even have to discuss a safe word if you—”


“Enough.” She slapped a hand over his mouth and laughed softly. “I take it back, I swear. Just stop—”


He nipped at her palm and then kissed it when she yelped.


“Damn, Tommy. You really are a surprise.” Her thumb brushed his lower lip, and her narrowed gaze caressed his face.


“Athena.” Say yes.


She dropped her hand. “But my answer is still…no.”


Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Charm-School-Night-Play-Lesson-ebook/dp/B076PDVPPW

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/charm-school-night-play-lesson-3/id1300268976?mt=11

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/charm-school-night-play-lynn-carmer/1127280123?ean=2940154598177

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/charm-school-night-play-lesson-3


Author Biography:

Amazon Best Selling Author Lynn Carmer is a talker, a writer, a reader, a teacher, a procrastinator, an avid fan of all things “reality,” and a devourer of all things “sweet.” She is continually working on white-hot, humorous Contemporary, Paranormal, and Sci/Fi Romance novels. Think sexy Gargoyles turned to stone; star-crossed lovers living on the planet of fire and ice; and hilarious contemporaries that reference pop culture and quite a few ’80s and ’90s movies and music.


Social Media Links

Website: http://lynncarmer.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Lynncarmer

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lynncarmerauthor/

Newsletter: http://www.lynncarmer.com/contact-me.html


Haunting Corpse: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery by @patyjag #cozymystery #giveaway

Haunting Corpse 5x8


Title Haunting Corpse: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery

Author  Paty Jager

Genre Cozy Mystery

Publisher Windtree Press


Book Blurb



A runaway bride, murder, and arson has Shandra Higheagle sleuthing again. Sorting through the debris of her best friend’s childhood, Shandra believes she must solve the murder before her friend becomes the next victim.


Stumbling upon a dead body, Detective Ryan Greer is determined to bring the killer to justice before Shandra becomes too entangled in her friend’s dysfunctional past. He hopes he’s not too late. Her deceased grandmother has already visited her dreams, putting Shandra in the middle of his investigation and danger.



Enter to win one of two ebook copies of Haunting Corpse to two people who leave a comment below.


Open Internationally and we’ll draw two names Monday, November 20, 2017.



Two hours after the wedding was to start, the guests had all left. Naomi and Ted stayed to help clean up the chairs and streamers. Shandra didn’t see any sense in waiting for the crew the wedding planner had hired. They weren’t to show up until tomorrow.


“That was a short wedding,” Lil, Shandra’s employee, said. The woman came with the ranch like the stray cat usually around the eccentric woman’s neck.


“There wasn’t a wedding. The bride got cold feet,” Ted said.


“I don’t know if it was cold feet or that she needed to deal with the shock of her mother caring before she could get married,” Shandra said, stacking chairs. Sheba, her pony-sized mutt, followed her back and forth as if afraid she would get locked up in the studio again. It had been the consensus of everyone involved in the wedding plans to leave the clumsy dog in the studio during the wedding. No one had wanted her to knock over guests, food, or cake.


Ryan stacked the two chairs he had and faced Lil. “Did you happen to see anyone milling around behind the studio or barn before the wedding?”


“Wouldn’t know. I was bent over the glazing table glazing coasters.” She wadded up the red streamers she’d pulled from the rafters. “Didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard the cars start up and knew it was too early for the reception to be over.”


Shandra folded two more chairs and carried them over to stack along the wall. “It doesn’t make sense. Ruthie was smiling and ready to marry Maxwell when I left the room. There wasn’t that much time between when I left and Naomi went looking for Ruthie.”


“She had to have gone out through the forest.” Ryan said, placing two more chairs in the stack. “All the vehicles were accounted for.”


“What would make her run out through the forest?” Shandra stared out the barn doors to the trees surrounding her meadow. “Do you think she went to their new house? It’s only four miles down the road from here?”


“I’d think that would be the first place Maxwell would look for her,” Ryan said.


“I feel like we aren’t doing enough. We should be looking for her.” Shandra had a bad feeling about her friend. And what about the man she’d seen? “You didn’t see any footprints or anything when you looked behind the studio?”


Ryan stopped folding chairs. “I didn’t see anything unusual.”


“Then where did that man go?”


“Lewis, where have you been?” Lil walked toward the side of the barn where Lewis, her orange cat sat. “What’s this? Where did you get red paint?”


“Don’t touch!” Ryan said, striding across the barn to the cat. “I don’t think that’s paint.”


Shandra knelt beside Lewis. Fear tingled her spine. Sheba sniffed at the cat who hunched his back and hissed. “I don’t think so either. Lewis rubbed up against someone who is bleeding.” Her chest constricted. “Ruthie!”



Buy Links Universal – https://www.books2read.com/u/3J0ZWX


Paty Jager


Author Biography

Paty Jager is an award-winning author of 32 novels, 6 novellas, and numerous anthologies of murder mystery, western romance, and action adventure. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. This is what Mysteries Etc says about her Shandra Higheagle mystery series: “Mystery, romance, small town, and Native American heritage combine to make a compelling read.”

Social Media Links

Website: http://www.patyjager.net


Blog: http://www.patyjager.blogspot.com


FB Page:  https://www.facebook.com/PatyJagerAuthor/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Paty-Jager/e/B002I7M0VK

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/patyjag/


Twitter: https://twitter.com/patyjag


Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1005334.Paty_Jager

One Week to Win Her Boss by @BarbaraWDaille #holidayromance #romance #giveaway

OWtWHB - Barbara White Daille

From the back cover of One Week to Win Her Boss:

Single mom Amber Barnett loves family, kids, Christmas…and unfortunately, her boss, confirmed bachelor Michael DeFranco. It’s a crush she really needs to get over. Except, when she’s temporarily forced from her apartment, her only option is to stay at Michael’s private ski lodge, where she’s the housekeeper. No problem. Her handsome boss rarely visits Snowflake Valley unexpectedly, plus he’s spending the holidays with his family. Or so she thinks…

A stormy Christmas Eve reunion leaves Michael seeking the solitude of his lodge, where he finds Amber in residence—and in trouble. Attempting to save her from her matchmaking family, he announces they’re a couple. His good deed backfires when they’re instantly included in each and every holiday event in town. So much for solitude.

Only the more time he spends with the beautiful, cheery brunette, the more he yearns to make things real between them. But he and Amber want different things, and Michael could never be the family man she’s looking for.

Awesome Giveaway:

Enter Barbara’s Book Birthday Rafflecopter Giveaway for multiple chances to win one of three prizes! Barbara is offering Amazon and Starbucks gift cards and winner’s choice of one of her backlist books.

a Rafflecopter giveaway



Finally, the front door closed behind Nick and the Barnetts, and he was left alone with Amber and her daughter. She settled Penny in the playpen, then took a seat on the couch. Light came only from the fixture over the dining room table, the Christmas tree, and the fireplace. Amber stared at the flames.


Without a word, he took the chair beside the couch, content just to watch her. She was still, and yet she wasn’t. Flickering light from the fire danced across her, giving the illusion of movement. From the corner of the room, the Christmas tree lights blinked, reflecting in her hair.


After a while, she glanced at him. “Thanks for the save. About the early start for our morning, I mean.”


“That wasn’t a save. I meant it. The team with the most donations wins, right?”


She laughed, her eyes suddenly gleaming. “No, that’s not right. Sorry. We don’t compete with one another. Well, except on game nights.”


“The Super Bowl? The World Series?”


“Monopoly and dominoes.”


He shook his head. “You guys are too good to be true. Do you dress up to pose for Christmas photos together, too?”


Wrong move. The brightness left her eyes. Her shoulders stiffened.


He had to remember not everyone had a family like his. Especially not Amber.


“Yes, we do take group pictures. What’s wrong with that?”


“Nothing, I guess. It’s just not something we do in my family.”


“What do you do?”


“As I said the other day, we go our separate ways.”


“And as I said, that’s sad.”


“No, it’s just the way things are.”




“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” And would mean having a conversation he didn’t want to get into. But she would keep asking because she was Amber and she was all about family. If not tonight or this week, she would ask this question again when he made another trip to the lodge. “Not everybody’s got the picture-perfect family.”


Nobody has that, whether they take group photos or not.”


“Yeah, well. Some are less perfect than others.” She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. “Don’t ask. It’s too complicated to get into.”


He could see concern in her eyes and almost hear the rest of her questions. But after a moment, she turned away.


“I should get Penny upstairs.”


I should get you upstairs.


The thought hit without warning, and his body’s instant response showed just how well he liked the idea. But his brain knew there was more to his interest in Amber than getting her into bed.


Again, he watched the reflections dance over her. He wished he were sitting beside her, running his fingers down her hair, trying to catch the twinkling Christmas lights.


That was it.


That was what he’d always found different about her. What she had brought into his life from the day he had met her. Her sparkling eyes. Her sunny smile. Her light. They kept his thoughts coming back to her no matter how hard he fought them, no matter how many times he reminded himself she was off-limits. He’d forgotten or pushed away or just plain ignored those reminders. Instead, he needed to listen to them. Starting now.


He shot to his feet as she rose from the couch.


She froze, looking up at him uncertainly. But she didn’t back away. She didn’t look away. Those sparkling eyes of hers stared into his, drawing him to her. Instead of backing up and walking off the way he’d intended to—the way he should have—he stepped forward, as if he had no choice in the matter. And maybe he hadn’t.


Maybe there was a reason he had come to the lodge just when Amber had decided to hide out here.


Maybe he wasn’t meant to keep his thoughts away from her.


Or his hands off her.


He trailed his fingertips along her jaw, then lifted her chin. Her eyes widened and her lips parted and her breath exhaled in a rush that halted any thought he’d had of walking away.


With the tip of his thumb, he grazed her bottom lip. Her answering indrawn breath made it impossible for him to keep from lowering his mouth to hers.


One more taste…


But even as his lips brushed hers, he knew that taste would come with a price he wouldn’t want to pay.



Book Links

Entangled  https://entangledpublishing.com/one-week-to-win-her-boss.html

Amazon  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076PJ7SNN

Amazon Australia  https://www.amazon.com.au/d/B076PJ7SNN

Amazon UK  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B076PJ7SNN

Amazon Canada  https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B076PJ7SNN

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1127274067

Apple iBooks  https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/one-week-to-win-her-boss/id1299758237

Kobo   https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/one-week-to-win-her-boss


Barbara White Daille


About the Author

Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom. Barbara also loves writing, reading, and chocolate. Come to think of it, she enjoys writing about those subjects, too!


Barbara wrote her first short story at the age of nine, then typed “The End” to her first novel many years later…in the eighth grade. Now she’s writing contemporary romance on a daily basis. Sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest in her writing life:  https://barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter.


Social Media Links

Website  https://www.barbarawhitedaille.com

Blog  https://www.barbarawhitedaille.com/blog

Newsletter  https://www.barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter

Facebook  http://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille

Twitter  https://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille

Amazon author page  http://www.amazon.com/Barbara-White-Daille/e/B002J6B0QQ

Harlequin author page  https://www.harlequin.com/shop/authors/23759_barbara-white-daille.html

Entangled author page  http://entangledpublishing.com/category/barbara-white-daille/

Bookbub author page https://www.bookbub.com/authors/barbara-white-daille


Goodreads author page http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/529361.Barbara_White_Daille

Hell Bound and Hell Hounds by Bestseller @WestonAndrew is a Must-Read #DarkFantasy Series!


Title: Hell Bound – Hell Hounds

Author: Andrew P. Weston

Genre: Dark Fantasy

Publisher: Perseid Press


Book Blurb:
Hell Bound

In hell, none of the condemned believes they deserve to be there. And that’s fine, so long as they’re not foolish enough to try and do anything about it. For those that do, there’s always Satan’s Reaper–and chief bounty hunter–Daemon Grim.


Feared throughout the many layers of the underverse, no one in their right mind dares to cross him.


However, when Grim discovers that someone has attempted to evade injustice, and seems hell-bent on gaining access to ancient angelic artifacts, proscribed since the time of the original rebellion in heaven, circumstances point to the fact they may be doing just that.


The question is…why?


Thus begins an investigation that leads Grim throughout the many contradictory and baffling levels of the underworld, where he unearths a conspiracy that is not only eating its way like a cancer through the highest echelons of Hellion society, but one which threatens the very stability of Satan’s rule.


How does Daemon Grim Respond?


Rest assured. It’ll be bloody, brutal, and despicably wicked.



Hell Hounds

Feared throughout the many circles of the underworld, Satan’s Reaper – and chief bounty hunter – Daemon Grim, is known as a true force to be reckoned with.


Having eliminated a major player in the uprising eating its way like a cancer through the underbelly of hell, Grim is stunned to discover he cannot afford to rest on his laurels, for the rebellion runs far deeper than was ever imagined. New players have emerged – denizens with uncanny abilities – who seem determined to support Chopin and Tesla’s revolutionary agenda.


Ever keen to test their mettle, the Sibitti – personified weapons of the ancient Babylonian plague god, Erra – also appear eager to capitalize on the growing unrest, and set about maneuvering events in order to place themselves in direct opposition to Grim’s investigation.


And if that was not cause for concern enough, there’s an insane angel on the loose, a creature as hell-bent on creating havoc as he is to return home.


How do Grim and his rabid pack of bounty hunters respond?


Baying for blood – doesn’t even begin to describe it.



Hell Bound –

Across the street, a small crowd of mobsters had just exited an old style ale house, and Lady Gemini became much more alert. Hunkering down into a small depression created by the collapse of a major sewer tunnel, she removed a long cylindrical pipe from one of her elongated thigh-flaps, and rummaged around in her breast pocket with the other hand.


I watched her movements with professional curiosity.


She hasn’t taken her eyes off them once. Now that’s the kind of attitude I want to see.


The group comprised two boss types—one a Gomez Adams wannabe, the other a startlingly accurate representation of what you would get if you stuffed a bulldog inside human flesh; a statutory retinue of muscle-bound, knuckle-dragging, brain-dead hoods; and a hulking great lawyer dripping mucus and blood with every step. His steaming name badge gleamed dully in the twilight, and identified him as Othello.


Scanning their auras, I doubted the combined IQs of the thugs would challenge the slime Othello left in his wake, so they were obviously there to look mean, grunt in single syllables, and take a bullet for their masters.


Which is what they’ll probably be doing a few seconds from now . . .


I adjusted the sensitivity of my sweeps and glanced back and forth between the two parties. The Godfather wake was oblivious to the danger. Gemini merely studied them from her place of concealment, and slowly raised the tube to her lips.



So who’s the mark?

Gemini’s heartbeat never wavered. Nor was there any discernible peak of excitement. If anything, her esoteric presence diminished until it was next to nothing.


She’s the proverbial ice queen. Detached, focused, professional.


Without warning, the air shimmered and Gemini winked out of sight.


A chameleon mesh? This should get interes-


No sooner had she disappeared than the undulating mass of hearse flies orbiting her proximity swooped away, and descended en masse upon the unfortunate gangsters. In moments, they were twisting and turning and waving their arms so furiously it looked as if they had suddenly decided to engage in a hip-hop dance off.


Is she doing that?


Strangled curses turned the air blue as overzealous insects began to bite.


One voice cried out louder than the others.




Othello slapped the side of his filthy reptilian neck. He coughed, staggered, and reached out to support himself on the nearest boss. Mr. Gomez obviously didn’t like being touched—especially by a lawyer—for he swatted Othello’s hand away as if his illustrious hellegally qualified acquaintance was infected by the plague. Seconds later, Othello’s knees gave way and he crashed to the floor, whereupon his essence started to fade almost immediately.


The rest of the entourage took one look at the dissipating mist and starburst away from the scene in terror, closely followed by an inquisitive cloud of hungry buzzing friends.


Oh, very clever. She made it look like a simple acci- Eh?


By the time I looked back, Gemini had already slithered down from the mound and was halfway toward Westmonster Causeway.


Unholy cow but she’s fast. I had never seen her run before. I wonder how long she can keep it up?


I never found out. Reaching the banks of the river, Gemini kept going—straight as a die—leaped the shattered balustrade and jumped straight into the filthy waters of the Tombs without creating so much as a splash.


Hell Hounds –

Deep beneath the streets of Olde London Town, the brick-lined galleries of the main sewers resounded with the echoes of pursuit. Water splished and filth sploshed in time to erratic footfalls, and every now and then, each resonating burst of frenzied activity was punctuated by an interlude of hacking sobs as the terrified victim tried to catch both his breath and his bearings.


The endless chain of low wattage emergency beacons dotted along the apex of the tunnels stretched off into the distance. But their wan light did little to dispel the midnight embrace leaching into every nook and cranny, and if anything, only served to define the darkness into tighter clusters.


Isabella Castile slowed her pace and judged her prey’s progress.


It had been like this for more than an hour, ever since her quarry had discovered his second wind, in fact, and a determination to fight against the seeming inevitability of his situation.


Why Isabella had chosen this particular denizen, she didn’t know. Maybe the color of his hair, the cut of his pinstripe suit, the way he turned his nose up at those around him. None of it mattered now, for once started, she would continue the hunt until she had added his name to a growing list of damned souls who found themselves, at her behest, in dread repose upon the Undertaker’s slab.


His haphazard course through the maze was a clear indicator of the Blue Suit’s panic, and the notion that he would leave his fate to happenchance only spurred Isabella to greater efforts. That, and the sour aftertaste lacing his pheromone-ridden trail.


Isabella reached the latest in a long line of junctions. Pausing just long enough to taste the ether, she quickly determined his new route and set off with a fresh spring in her step and a deepening ache in her throat.


Not long now, my sweet. Not long.


A cruel smile stole its way across her lips.




The betraying splash tolled like a death knell in the dark.


Halting her advance, Isabella hugged the shadows along the far wall, and sang: “Can you hear what I hear?”


Her tuneful query elicited nothing but silence.


Creeping forward, she peered around the lip of a side shaft, her fingers testing the air like spider legs on a web. “And can you see what I see?”


A knife appeared in her hand where nothing had existed before. Then it was gone, traversing the fifty-foot gap in the blink of an eye.


A grunt coughed out of the gloom. Then a stifled curse. Moments later, the filthy waters slopping about Isabella’s feet turned crimson.


She stepped out into the scant illumination offered by a meager cone of light from the ceiling and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath.


“No, please. I’ll give you anything you want . . .” was all the Blue Suit managed to gasp before calamity fell upon him.



Buy Links:

Hell Bound –

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Hell-Bound-Heroes-Andrew-Weston-ebook/dp/B015G2AI0I


Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/Hell-Bound-Heroes-Andrew-Weston-ebook/dp/B015G2AI0I


Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hell-Bound-Heroes-Andrew-Weston-ebook/dp/B015G2AI0I


Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hell-bound-andrew-p-weston/1122937633?ean=2940156681334


Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26809332-hell-bound


Hell Hounds –

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076GWZ4DW


Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B076GWZ4DW


Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B076GWZ4DW


Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hell-hounds-andrew-p-weston/1127314562?ean=2940158740053


Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36472614-hell-hounds



Andrew Weston

Author Biography:

Andrew P. Weston is a military and police veteran from the UK who now lives with a large amount of cats in a medium sized house on a small Greek island.


An astronomy and law graduate, he is the creator of the international #1 bestselling and critically acclaimed IX Series, and has the privilege of contributing to the Heroes in Hell shared universe.


Social Media Links:
Website: http://www.andrewpweston.com/


Twitter: https://twitter.com/WestonAndrew


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andrewpaul.weston



Governments would kill to hide what they know – Neutral Space by @Rtranbooks #scifi #IARTG

Neutral Space


Title: Neutral Space

Author: Rebecca Tran

Genre: Sci-Fi


Book Blurb:

Lieutenant Jackson Peterson thought he knew who the enemy was. A bitter war with the Kelsairans made it abundantly clear. When Jackson saves a Kelsairan woman from a wrecked ship, the line is suddenly blurred. Jackson questions everything he knows once he discovers the woman he loves is a soldier too. Now 200 years of fighting stands between him and the only woman he ever wanted. Jackson will risk everything to stop it. Will it be enough? Can Jackson stop the war or will he die in the process?



Special Giveaway:

US residents can like my Facebook page here between 11/13/17 and 11/20/17 for a chance to win 1 of 3 signed copies of Neutral Space. Winners will be chosen at random. No purchase necessary.




I was on a week leave on Micea. It’s a neutral planet, completely alone. It was exactly what I wanted. My tent was pitched, and a fire was blazing. I was a short hike from the lake, perfect for fishing and swimming. I’d been there once before and loved the spot. As I put a pot of coffee on the fire, I saw the ship coming in hot. It was in trouble, and the pilot was struggling to keep it steady. I grabbed my med pack and ran to where it was going to crash.


The ship knocked over trees as it skid into the ground. The earth shook, and there was a crash when it impacted. I nearly lost my footing. It only made me run faster. Whoever it was wouldn’t have much time if the ship was heavily damaged. I was relieved to see it was a human craft when I reached the ridge; an old one, but human nonetheless. The hatch was still closed, which was a bad sign; and, the ship was on fire. I found the emergency release lever as I wrapped my hand in the corner of my shirt to protect it from the hot metal.  The hatch opened like a charm when I pulled it.


I fell on my ass when I saw an unconscious Kelsairan woman. It was a human craft. Why the hell was a Kelsairan piloting it? She groaned slightly. Kelsairans were the enemy. I should have left her. I couldn’t abandon her to die now that I knew she was alive. My honor wouldn’t allow it. I cursed the whole time I pulled her out of the wreckage. She was bleeding from a wound in her leg, and I knew my med kit would be useless. Kelsairan anatomy was different than a human’s. I cursed again as I hunted for her med kit. Luckily, she’d kept it close at hand, and I found it quickly.


I dragged her to safety just as her ship exploded. It knocked me back a step, and I instinctively covered the woman from debris. The noise had my ears ringing. The heat from the fire was unbearable. I pulled her further away until I could figure out a plan.


It was a long hike back to my camp. I bandaged her wound temporarily before making a sled to take her the rest of the way. Getting her back, unfortunately, was the easy part. I had to properly address the wound on her upper thigh once she was at my camp. Her one-piece outfit complicated everything. I needed to get to the injury, and its location made it impossible to just cut off the pant leg.


My task would have been far easier if Kelsairans didn’t look like humans, but they did. They were usually taller and leaner with opaque eyes and ridges on their brows. Everything else made them appear human. This woman was no exception, and she was undeniably attractive. She was tall and slim. Her breasts were small, yet firm; her hips were perfectly curved. She had ice-blonde hair that was slicked back. Her oblong face had high cheekbones and full lips. I was never this close to one of their women before. I never realized how beautiful they were. Well, this one was anyway.  I tried waking her first, hoping I wouldn’t have to undress her myself but she was unconscious. I considered waiting until morning, but the wound was oozing, and I was afraid of it getting infected.


I shook her one last time before reaching for the zipper at her neck. Nothing, she was out cold. Damn, I pulled the zipper down my hands shaking like I was a virgin. I tried not to look as I quickly undressed her, I put one of my own t-shirts on her, but her body was flawless. If I think about it, I can still remember it now. I draped a blanket over her torso and other leg as I worked on her wound. There was a piece of metal lodged in the wound. I had to fish around for it before disinfecting and bandaging it. She looked ridiculous in my shorts. At least she was dressed.


I didn’t want to move her again, so I brought my sleeping bag out of the tent and rolled her in. The coffee I’d started earlier was ruined now. I started a fresh pot for my night vigil. Who was this woman and why was she here? I sank into my chair watching as she slept.


Buy Links:

Amazon (all countries): http://mybook.to/nspace


Rebecca Tran


Author Biography:

Rebecca Tran is a hybrid author and blogger with three award-winning novels. She started writing when she was sixteen as self-prescribed therapy after her father passed away and hasn’t stopped since. Rebecca is also a pharmacist, wife, and mother to two rambunctious girls and a Boston Terrier. If she ever has free time she likes combing resale shops to add to her teapot collection or quilting. Currently, she lives in her home state of Missouri.


Social Media Links:

Website: www.rtranbooks.com

Blog: https://rtranbooks.wordpress.com/

Facebook page: https://m.facebook.com/Rtranbooks/


Twitter: https://twitter.com/rtranbooks/

Email:  rtranbooks.com@outlook.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16335980.R_Tran

Linkedin: http://www.linkedin.com/in/rebecca-hoelker-tran-3aaab3141

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/105043491920055628616

Independent Author Network: http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/r-tran.html


A #VeteransDay Message From @LiviaQuinn + a #Kobo sale! #FridayReads #RomanticSuspense #IARTG



Happy Veterans Day to our service men and women past and present.



I can’t express what the sacrifices our military and their families make when they make the extreme commitment to enter the service mean to me and my family. Two or three days a year is not enough to properly show our support.



My Men of Honor series celebrates men and women who value integrity, honor, and duty through service to their country and communities. The heroes are former and current military, law enforcement and emergency responders and heroines are their equals in love and more.




Nick, book 3 in the series is on sale this weekend, from the 9th – 13th on Kobo




His lost memories might get her killed…



You’ve killed him, Bad Brenna taunted. Brenna looked down the steps at the man lying motionless in the tropical downpour. I told you that silly phobia would get you in trouble if you didn’t get a grip.



Brenna knew she was right, knew it was exactly why Bad Brenna existed, to help her cope with the trauma that had turned her into a scared rabbit whenever lightning was in the forecast. But her anxiety over the approaching storm had been magnified by another premonition. Usually, it meant someone was about to die. Had she been the means, this time, of fulfilling her own prophecy? As always there were no clear answers. She needed to start trusting her sixth sense if she was ever going to get rid of Bad Brenna. First step— rescue her victim from the storm.



What happened? He’d been dodging the lightning, fighting the wind and rain, looking for a place to hide…when he’d seen the faint glow in the distance. There was no answer at the door so he’d broken in, entered… and there she was, a beautiful Valkyrie. Wielding her sword, she screamed as she struck him—for no good reason—and then everything went black. Everything.





The next rumble of thunder surprised her with its strength. Her fingers moved faster with nervous energy as she kept her eyes glued to the monitor. Anxiety traveled along her nerves like the electrical conduits in the Electron Molecule Deformulator. The memories wouldn’t be far behind.


In that instant, a magnesium-white light turned her living room into an overexposed movie negative and she found herself on the floor, hands pressed to her eyes for agonizing seconds as a mighty trunk split, striking other trees and sending chips and limbs like missiles against the side of the house. A picture tumbled off the shelf by the fireplace and hit the floor as the house shook.


The crashing seemed to go on forever, followed by lingering thunder. Throughout the clamor and chaos, Brenna held her breath, as if merely breathing would bring calamity down on her. As if not breathing could keep the beast from finding her.


When silence reigned, she raised her head.


To black velvet darkness. “Crap.”


In the dark, the storm’s power was more terrifying, a constant barrage of light that bounced off every surface, attacking her senses and her already precarious sanity. She pushed herself off the floor and stumbled to the bedroom. With her eyes half covered with her fingers, she retrieved the one flickering candle in the ruby glass holder from the bedside table that had been her grandmother’s.


By its meager light she hurried to the kitchen, shielding the flame with her other palm. She sat the holder on the counter and rummaged through the drawers, finding garbage bag ties, wayward screws, and bottle caps, but no candles.


A loud boom coincided with another flash of light. She counted, “One thousand one, one thous… uhnn.” With the next flash and simultaneous crack of thunder she hit her elbow on the kitchen counter. “Brenna. If anyone knows this is merely a thunderstorm, you do.” Even if it was a bad one.


Right. When was the last time a thunderstorm was a mere anything to her? Brenna knew the answer. To the year, the season, the minute. The memories came at her like leaves in a microburst and she pressed her hands against her head as if to still them.


Something hit the porch and Brenna froze. With her back to the kitchen wall, she took a deep breath, repeating her therapist’s rant, er, chant. Empty your mind as you inhale. Or was it exhale? He’d given up on her after the meditation class.



The front door rattled again and her litany continued. “Nothing to fear. It’s just the wind. No sane person would be out in this weather—unless—” Her mind flashed to a horror movie commercial, and her breathing stopped.


“Quit that!” She shook her head and did a mental reset, peering around the opening to the front door. Nothing.


“See?” Feeling silly, she wiped her palms on her jeans, spread her hands out in front of her, “Steady…” but flinched at another deafening boom. The ruby glass holder hit the floor and extinguished the light. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the wetness of hysteria on her cheeks. Once again she attempted to reset, dashed the tears away and let the other Brenna, Fearless Brenna who’d peeked her head out recently, give the fearful one a pep talk. The damn lightning’s outside. Stop this craziness and get the candles.


Nodding, she edged toward the old trunk, just as something brushed the front door. She whirled. The apparition on the other side of her front door froze her in place.


Starkly backlit by the storm’s intermittent light, was the dark shadow of a man. A menacing form, it moved back and forth like a shadow boxer. Her scream was absorbed by a loud blast of thunder as she dove to the floor, her eyes locked on the cabin’s entrance. In the flickering light the phantom’s raised arm looked like a coiled snake about to strike.


Crab-walking backwards toward the couch, she glanced around for a weapon. Her eyes locked on the fireplace implements. She seized the iron shovel and scurried toward the door, sliding down against the wall under the front window. She was close to hyperventilating. Had he seen her?


Her lungs were gripped by an invisible fist. Calm. She had to calm down or he’d be able to hear her heart pounding against her chest. Even with the storm outside, her blood thumped in her ears. Her breath came in noisy pants.


Broken glass spilled from the door’s window pane near her feet and her fingernails dug into to her palms as she gripped the iron tighter in a batter’s grip. Sliding up the wall behind the door, she flattened her body against it as more jagged pieces of glass fell to the floor. All her attention was on the hand reaching through the opening.


Unlocking the door.


Turning the handle.


Like a seasoned batter aiming for the strike zone, Brenna timed her attack. As the large figure stepped across the threshold she swung, the shovel connecting with a sickening thwack against his forehead. With a grunt, he staggered out the door and down the porch steps to lie still in the heavy downpour.



Buy Links for your favorite store:



Buy it on sale on Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/nick-12


 Livia Quinn


Author Bio:

As a teenager in DC, Livia tagged along with her Daddy to Redskins games and explored the rich history of our country, then she moved to the bayous of Louisiana where the weather and culture of this region inspired her writing, including her storm faerie, Tempest and her military heroes. Livia’s many jobs as mail lady, salesperson, plant manager, business owner and professional singer are the conduit her characters have used to relate their stories to her. Think of her as her characters’ biographer! Down by the bayou she is protected from the alligators and bears by her husband and feisty Pomeranian, Dusty.


Tagline: Stumble into love… when you least expect it.


About her Destiny Paramortals: Readers say, “It’s like a mini-vacation from the real world.” “Run don’t walk to the buy button.”


Men of Honor: Duty. Honor. Country. Community. “I cannot give this book enough praise.” “Alpha hero, kick-ass heroine, creepy villain – what’s not to like?”


Sign up for her newsletter to get quarterly news alerts and win prizes.


Follow Livia on Social Media

Website: http://liviaquinn.com

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Danger stalks her family… The Cost of Deception by @mmarvellab #romanticsuspense #books

Beautiful young smiling couple in love embracing indoor


Title  The Cost of Deception

Author   Mary Marvella

Genre Romantic Suspense

Publisher   Gilded Dragonfly Books


Book Blurb

The Cost of Deception is a romantic suspense. Tess, widowed mother and teacher, has been so wrapped in in her role as a mother that she has forgotten how it feels to be a desirable woman. Seeing Drew at the class reunion awakens her sexuality.


Drew is an undercover cop in Atlanta, GA. During his years in the military he had no concerns about marriage and starting a family. His life put him in danger, and he liked things that way. Seeing Tess at the class reunion made him rethink what he really wanted.
How can he make his career work with the things Tess and her kids make him want, when everything he tells her and her kids is a lie?


Yes, there will be hot sex and danger will stalk her family.



Enter to win 1 PDF or Amazon e-gift of The Gift or Haunting Refrain by telling us what you love most about romantic suspense in the comments section below.

We’ll draw a winner on Monday, November 13, 2017.




It was late and Drew nursed a glass of watered down whiskey as he stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He looked like a renegade. The scraggly, black beard and the tinted lenses hid what was on the outside.


Why do bars have so much mirror space? True, he could see what was going on behind him, as well as anyone who approached him. He hoped to see the man who would be his connection in his current investigation. He could also see too much of himself, which wasn’t much help tonight. He couldn’t stop the mental reflections any more than he could the ones in the mirror.


Not since he left home had he worn glasses, except when he needed a disguise. He wasn’t the skinny wimp he’d been in high school or even during his first years at Georgia Tech. Now few men dared tease the muscular man who filled the black tee shirt and stretched the short sleeves rolled a notch over the bulge of his upper arm. The forearm he saw in the mirror looked lethal as veins bulged each time he flexed his hand. Drew was a man to be feared and respected. He’d worked hard to become that man.


The first year in the army was responsible for most of the transformation to the undercover cop who answered to the name Drew. He answered to many aliases. Tonight he answered to Spider, as the sinister tattoo on one forearm would suggest.



Buy Links



Mary M


Author Biography


Mary Marvella has been a storyteller for as long as she can remember. She made up the “Let’s Pretend” situations for the neighborhood kids. The arrival of the book mobile was as exciting as hearing the music of the ice cream truck, more, since she could check out books but seldom had the money for the ice cream. Her parents preferred letting her walk to the corner store for less money. She still pinches pennies.


When Mary’s daughter was small, story time often meant Mama made up stories. Now retired from teaching the classic works of the masters, Mary writes her own stories and reads modern novels.


Georgia raised, she writes stories with a Southern flair.



Social Media Links:






Follow Mary Marvella on Twitter @mmarvellab


http://amzn.to/29g2nKW   Author page



The Darkness of Love by @SpookyMrsGreen #paranormalromance #ASMSG #books #historicalfiction



Title – The Darkness of Love

Author – Catherine Green

Genre – Paranormal Romance, Historical fiction

Publisher – Chances Press


Book Blurb –

A Victorian vampire lord seeks an heir for his estate in this English Gothic novel with passion and flair.


Lord Gregory Stockton is a powerful and respected businessman embracing the modern era of the Victorian industrial revolution. He has a grand and beautiful manor house complete with a repertoire of servants, and his young wife is charming, attractive, and the perfect lady to his gentleman. The only thing they lack is an heir to the family estate. Lord Gregory knows he can never produce a child, for he is a vampire, although his wife and servants know nothing of his secrets. There are other ways to provide heirs for his estate, however, and Lord Gregory has noticed the romantic attraction between his wife and the young stable hand Marcus Scott. He hatches a plan to bring the would-be lovers together, and then cruelly tear them apart as he continues to build his empire and secure his power base in the south of England. The humans are pawns in the vampire’s game of lust, love and control.


Excerpt –


Gregory stood and walked round the desk.  In a lightning-quick movement he was sitting beside Amelia on the sofa.  She did not react, she merely continued smiling.


“I believe at this very moment, he is being cared for by his favourite servant, Mary Jones.  You remember, I told you about her?” Gregory said.


“Yes,” Amelia replied, “Although I don’t see why she is relevant.  Surely she will confuse his feelings for your wife.”


“I think not,” Gregory said, “I intend for young Mary to be his first meal after I turn him.  It will be a good lesson in controlling his emotions, don’t you think?”


Amelia’s smile grew sinister, and she laughed.


“And there I was thinking you were showing sentiment in your old age, Gregory,” she said, “Yes, actually, this will be a very amusing exercise.”


“Indeed,” Gregory replied, reaching out to touch Amelia’s face, moving his closer to her.


Their lips met in a chaste kiss, which quickly escalated.  They nibbled and bit each other, playing in the way that vampires do, and finally they lay entwined together, naked on the sumptuous rug before the fire.  Gregory and Amelia were very old friends.  They were also very intimate.


Buy Links –


The Darkness of Love – http://chancespress.com/catherinegreen.html

NOOK Book – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-darkness-of-love-catherine-green/1116861124?ean=2940148809456

DOL Amazon US – http://amzn.com/B00F289E8Y

DOL Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00F289E8Y

DoL Kobo – https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-darkness-of-love

DoL Inktera – http://www.inktera.com/store/title/265db636-2aea-4b4a-9c5b-32657bfa9023

DOL Bookstrand – http://www.bookstrand.com/the-darkness-of-love-mwm


Catherine Green aka SpookyMrsGreen


Author Biography –


Author of British paranormal romance series The Redcliffe Novels, Catherine Green was raised on books from a young age, and has happy memories of Saturday mornings spent in her small local library, devouring the contents of the shelves. Catherine has always been fascinated by the supernatural world, and it feels natural for her to write about vampires, werewolves, witches and other mystical creatures in her contemporary stories.


If you sign up to Catherine’s newsletter, she will send you a free copy of her Redcliffe short story, It’s Complicated, to introduce you to her fictional supernatural seaside town in Cornwall, England.



Social Media Links –


You can find Catherine in the following places:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SpookyMrsGreen

Author blog: http://www.catherinegreenauthor.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter page: https://twitter.com/SpookyMrsGreen

Personal Blog: http://spookymrsgreen.com/


Fall in love all over again… Betting on Cinderella by @authorpetie #romance #fairytale

Betting on Cinderella_850x1275


Title:   Betting on Cinderella

Author:   Petie McCarty

Genre:   Contemporary Romance

Publisher:   Soul Mate Publishing


Book Blurb:


Garrett Tucker inherits his grandfather’s casino empire and steps into the reclusive billionaire’s shoes as the “Prince of Vegas.” His first act is to buy a bankrupt casino in Biloxi. When he discovers embezzling in his new operation, Garrett goes in undercover. His prime suspect is the new finance supervisor—the spitfire brunette who stole his heart at first sight.


Andi Ryan moves to Biloxi to care for her godmother and takes a job as finance supervisor for the renovated Bayou Princess casino. She discovers someone is skimming from the till and starts her own investigation, worried she will be blamed for the theft when the new owner discovers her godmother has a gambling addiction.


Garrett’s rival Vegas competitor has sent a spy in to ruin the Bayou Princess, and Garrett and Andi are forced to work together to prove her innocence and discover the identity of their casino spy.




Enter to win an ePub of Cinderella Busted, Book 1 of the Cinderella Romances Series.


Leave a comment describing your favorite fairy tale and why.


Winner will be drawn Monday, November 13, 2017.





Garrett couldn’t have found a more romantic place if he’d tried. Sprawled across the open lawn between the restaurant and the bayou creek were ancient live oaks with their grey tresses of Spanish moss seductively swaying with the breeze. A wide band of spartina grasses hugged the creek shore, and each gust of wind urged them to tango right and back left again. Long-legged shorebirds scuffled in the shallows to stir up crustaceans or mollusks for their dinner.


“Still a good pick.” He held up his scotch and water. “Here’s to the newest Bayou Princess employee.”


She clinked her wine glass to his. “The two newest Bayou Princess employees. Don’t forget you started today, too.”


“To the two newest,” he quickly amended.


Holy cow! I need to be on my toes tonight.


As she lowered her glass, he leaned in and gently brushed his lips across hers. She froze. He pulled back no more than an inch, stared into those wide, hypnotic-blue eyes, and pressed his lips to hers again.


Both of them holding glasses, they touched only at their lips, a flashpoint that sent heat straight to his gut. She pressed back against his lips, and he wanted to whoop. He traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and—Hallelujah!—she let him in. He thought of pitching his glass into the creek, so his arms were free to wrap her up. So great had his need skyrocketed when she timidly touched her tongue to his. Blood rushed high to pound in his head and rushed low to pound in . . .


Lord! Tucker, get control of yourself! What the heck is wrong with you?


He had lost control, that’s what. He never lost control. His attraction to Andi had been instantaneous and visceral, like the feeling had been there incubating all along. Hell, he had kissed Andi in front of a bank of restaurant windows. An odd little tug pulled near his heart. He forced himself to pull back and not roar his delight when she swayed toward him. Thank God, she wasn’t ready for the kiss to be over either.


Those hypnotic sapphires looked glassy now. She blinked a couple times to clear the—hopefully—lust away.


“What was that for?” she whispered. “Congratulations?”


“No. I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you in the church.” His voice sounded gravelly, and her eyes grew wide. “Thought I’d finagle my chance at the reception.”


“Do you kiss all the girls you smile at?”


“No,” he said, a little too curtly. He didn’t want her thinking he kissed all his dates like that. Actually, he did kiss all his dates. Just not like that. Like he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t, didn’t want to stop.


Andi was . . . different.



Buy Links: 

https://www.amazon.com/Betting-Cinderella-Romances-Book-ebook/dp/B0765D15ZD  [Only sold on Amazon since it is in the Kindle Unlimited program]


Petie Bio pic


Author Biography:


Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World — “The Most Magical Place on Earth” — where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to her “day” job to write her stories full-time. These days Petie spends her time writing sequels to her regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and her cozy-mystery-with-elements-of-romantic-suspense series, the Mystery Angel Romances.


Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband, a spoiled-rotten English Springer spaniel addicted to pimento-stuffed green olives, and a noisy Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in Angel to the Rescue.


Social Media Links:







#FREEBIE Alert: @AWarriorsUmbra by C. Dinsmore is a #ScienceFiction Debut Novel! #books #SFF

A Warrior's Umbra


Title: A Warrior’s Umbra

Author: Christopher Dinsmore

Genre: Science Fiction


Book Blurb:

“A Warrior’s Umbra” is told by Jester detailing his experience of going from a lost boy stranded in the tundra of a foreign planet to becoming the destined protector of the Histianites, a local tribe. In this adventure, Jester lives among the Histianites, concealing his unique abilities in accordance with his adoptive father’s wishes. During Jester’s time on the planet a Histianite nearly dies in front of the tribe. Unable to control himself, Jester reveals his abilities in an attempt to save the man. The revelation of Jester’s powers sends fear through the tribe. Under instruction from the tribe’s leader, Jester is sent to seek guidance from a legendary deity who is rumored to reside at the peak of Histian, the home mountain. Jester accepts this mission, unaware of a dark entity lurking just beyond the horizon.



My brain started to fill with survival tactics, most of which consisted of using my senses, touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing. The voice informed me of the things I was capable of doing. The voice said I was able to absorb all information I came into contact with, down to a material’s molecular structure, and my senses had adaptations that would become useful. The voice began its run down on specific adaptations, but before it could finish the first one, the robotic voice interrupted.


“Estimated time until impact is currently thirty seconds.”


I had gotten lost in listening to the voice and didn’t realize how much time had passed by. I focused on the area around me, still too dark to see. I had no idea what I was supposed to do other than listen to the voice’s directions. The voice had told me that my only job at the moment was to stay calm, but that task became increasingly difficult with the temperature on the rise and a quiet hiss from outside.


The hiss I heard quickly grew into a roar making it hard to hear the voice when it delivered yet another message.


“Estimated impact velocity is 12,000 meters per second,” the voice said.


The voice’s message didn’t help my situation. I knew the measurement and the number, but my relative comparison for speed was non-existent. I was left guessing until the event actually happened.


“Initiating countdown sequence. Ten.”


I knew there were only nine more numbers before the count would strike zero and the impact would occur. In these last moments my vision began to work in a way that allowed me to see through the darkness.


The room appeared to my eyes in full color, and I was able to look at my body and the things around it. I assumed that this ocular ability was one of the adaptations the voice spoke of during its last talk. Most of the things I saw I had already identified, such as my hands, feet, torso, and the restraints holding them down.


The size of the room was also consistent with my prior estimation. The things I didn’t account for were the dark clothes tight against my body and the wires running from the chair into my arms and legs. There were ten wires that I could see. Each wire was black with a colored tag at the end nearest to my skin.


I jerked my head forward only slightly before feeling a quick tug in the opposite direction. Now I knew what had been keeping my head restrained. There was a thick cord, much larger than the wires in my limbs, running from behind the chair into the back of my head. My senses sharpened, and I started to feel the wide array of tiny wires running under my skin nearly surrounding my skull. I tried to determine their potential purpose, but before I could, the robot raised its volume.


“Five,” it said continuing its count.


The noise coming from outside was much louder, now blaring through the walls of the room. I prepared myself for what was about to happen, and when I did, a message shot through my head. I couldn’t tell where it had come from, but I heard it warn me of danger, then almost as if the warning had never happened, it was gone.


The world around me lit up just before it all happened for real.


The robot’s voice delivered its last message. “Brace for impact. Two. One.”


My eyes widened, breath sharpened, hands clenched, and body jerked as an incredible jolt of energy slammed into me. My mind flashed back to the clock inside my head. The clock had slowed down along with the world around me. I could think in real time, but everything else was moving along with the clock I held in my head.


After the initial shock I saw the metal wall in front of me tear away, revealing a bright light that filled the room. I became momentarily blinded before switching my vision back to normal. Once I could see again, I looked down toward my body. When I did, I felt the cord in the back of my head get ripped out, taking shreds of my skin with it. My eyes locked onto my arms, which were being launched from my seat with the rest of my body. The cushioned restraints snapped and the wires tore away, leaving deep cuts along my limbs. The world picked back up to its normal pace beyond my control, and I flew forward back into the darkness.


I felt lost again.


freebie alert


Buy Links:

Get this debut novel from Indie Author Christopher Dinsmore for FREE today through Thursday (11/9)!




CJ Dinsmore


Author Biography:

Christopher Dinsmore is a writer from Crofton, Maryland. Mr. Dinsmore has long held an interest in fitness and the limits of strength. This interest inspired him to create something that explored the struggles one endures when growing both mentally and physically. He hopes to complete the second and final part to “The Warrior Series” soon.


Social Media Links:


A Chicago Christmas series by Award-Winning @Aubreywynne51 is a Must-Read! #holidayromance


Series Title A Chicago Christmas Series

Titles in Order of Publication Dante’s Gift, Paper Love, Merry Christmas, Henry

Author Aubrey Wynne

Genre Contemporary Sweet Holiday Romance

Publisher Plato Publishing


Book Blurbs

Dante’s Gift
Kathleen James has put her practical side away for once and looks forward to the perfect romantic evening: an intimate dinner with the man of her dreams—and an engagement ring. She is not prepared to hear that he wants to bring his grandmother back from Italy to live with him.

Dominic Lawrence has planned this marriage proposal for six months. Nothing can go wrong—until his Nonna calls. Now he must interrupt the tenderest night of Katie’s life with the news that another woman will be under their roof.


When Antonia’s sister dies, she finds herself longing to be back in the states. An Italian wartime bride from the ‘40s, she knows how precious love can be. Can her own story of an American soldier and a very special collie once again bring two hearts together at Christmas?



Paper Love
Growing up in a Papua New Guinea mission, Joss Palmateer is a gentle soul with a unique view of life. Still adjusting to a new home in the U.S and the sudden loss of her mother, love is the last thing on her mind.

Sexy physical therapist, Ben Montgomery, meets his sister’s friend and the sparks fly. He takes it as a challenge when she ignores his advances, but it’s her extraordinary inner beauty that captures his heart.

With the help of a stray homing pigeon and an old origami legend, Ben sets an unwavering course of romance to win her love.



Merry Christmas, Henry
A holiday fantasy short story for the romantic.


Henry, a shy and talented artist, moonlights as a security guard at a museum and loses his heart to a beautiful, melancholy woman in a painting. As his obsession grows, he finds a kindred soul who helps him in his search for happiness. On Christmas Eve, Henry dares to take a chance on love and fulfill his dream.



Excerpt from Dante’s Gift —

Excerpt from present day romance:
The scent of turkey met her at Dom’s front door. For a moment, apprehension swept through her at the thought of helping in the kitchen. Then a handsome man stood before her, and she couldn’t wipe the foolish smile off her face. Instead of saying something stupid, she held out the wine.


“In a holiday bag, no less,” Dom said, eyebrows raised. He stepped back to let her in, grabbed her hand, and spun her around to face him. “You look stunning.”


“I just thought that the burlap would give it extra protection if I dropped it, and they only seemed to have holiday wine bags in stock and—”


One finger covered her mouth. As his head slowly lowered, she could feel his breath on her face; heat raced through her core. By the time their lips touched, her legs had turned to jello; she clung to him for support.


Gently pushing her toward the wall, he pressed his length against her and whispered, “I need to make you mine, legally, before I lose all control. You have no idea the affect you have on me, do you?”


“I think that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said breathless. “Kiss me like that again… please?”


“I’d be happy to oblige if you tell me that isn’t my grandmother standing in the doorway watching us.”


Katie looked over to see Antonia, a wide grin on her face, and quickly pushed on the hard chest that pinned her to the wall. She ran a hand through her hair as the blood rushed to her face.


“Oh Nico, such good Italian blood in you. And not even any mistletoe out yet.” Antonia wiped her hands on her apron and waved to the young couple. “Come now, we have work to do before we play.”


The two followed her in like reprimanded children who showed no remorse, holding hands and snickering. This is silly but it feels so good. Katie accepted the apron and as she pulled the straps behind her, strong hands covered hers.


“Let me,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m good at tying knots.”


Excerpt from WWII romance:


The pilot with wheat-colored hair put his elbows on the counter and leaned toward her. “I could buy thirty loaves of bread at home for that much lettuce.”


“But you are not home, soldier. You are here, in Benevento, and a sticky bun is 100 lire.” She meant to be rude but his soft brown gaze made her heart race as if she’d just chased Dante across the field. His smile went to his eyes, adding crinkles to the corners, and made her own lips turn up. “The cost of supplies is very expensive these days, as you know.”


“So I’ve heard. Give me five,” he said with a wink. “Maybe I can sweet talk the captain into putting me back into a plane.”


“Save your money, Ken. Your ears obviously ain’t got any better in the last ten minutes,” he answered, rubber-necking over the counter. “Get a load of that landing gear.”


Dante growled again but this time showed sharp, white teeth. “I don’t think he likes you much, Bob.”


“Well I don’t care for him, neither. Give me two of those, and we’ll get out of your hair.”


The men paid for the rolls and walked outside. She headed into the kitchen when that quiet, deep voice stopped her. “I’d like to apologize for my friend. He’s not a bad Joe once you get to know him.”


“I don’t think I care to,” she said without turning around.


“It looks like I may be making regular trips through your town. Do you work here often?” His tone dripped like honey from a ladle and poured over her; she felt her body turn toward him even as her brain told her “no.”


“My family owns it. I am here every day.”


“So your father is Guido?” He had resumed his place at the counter, balanced on his elbows again, inviting her back without a word.


She found herself leaning on the counter from the other side. “How do you know my father?”


“The sign says Guido’s Café.”


She laughed. “Yes, it does. So you are no private eye, eh?”


He whistled then. “You’d make Betty Grable green with envy when you smile. It makes those blue eyes sparkle like a fresh-cut diamond. You should do that more often.”


Her eyes lowered, embarrassed at the compliment and the image of the American pinup girl in a bathing suit. “You should go catch up with your friends.”


“My name is Ken Lawrence,” he said and held out his hand.


“Antonia Capriotti,” she replied and took his hand. A tingle shot down her center and curled her toes. “It is nice to meet you.”


“You’re blushing. Mmm, beautiful and modest. That’s a rare find, you know.” He held firmly onto her hand. “And who is this?”


She looked down at the silent collie. He hadn’t made a noise when this man reached across the counter and touched her. Odd. “Dante, our protector.”


“You need one, with mugs like Bob.” He made a kissing noise in the dog’s direction and slapped the counter. Dante jumped up, feet on the edge and barked. Ken reached over and scratched the dog behind his ears. “Good boy, you look like my old Schotzie.”


“You have a dog?”


“I did. Old man hit fourteen just before I left. Mom sent me his collar when he passed.”


“I’m sorry, they are just like one of the family, si?”


“Yes they are,” he agreed, giving Dante one more pat before he tipped his hat. “I hope to see you again soon, Antonia.”


She hugged the collie as the Yank left, a swagger to his walk. “What do you know that I don’t, hmm? I trust your instincts better than mine. Perhaps we’ll consider more conversation with this Americano if he returns.”



Excerpt from Paper Love —


“No, I categorize, I don’t judge. We’re all different. We all have a role in life.” He mirrored her pose. “So you’re argumentative.”


“Not usually, but you bring out the best in me.”


His laugh was so loud that it drew the attention of the others in the room. Joss’ face turned red. “And intelligent and beautiful.” His bright green eyes pinned hers and turned a smoky jade. “Go out with me. You won’t regret it.”


“Said the lion to the mouse.” But she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. He was arrogant but witty. Her mind craved the challenge he would provide if her body didn’t betray her first. Step away from the charming, to-die-for handsomeness of this man.


A brunette came up behind the couch, put her head between them and said in a breathy tone, “Don’t forget about the rest of your guests. You promised us a dance.”


“Indeed I did.” He stood up and held out a hand to Joss. “Would you care to dance?”


Joss shook her head. “No, I don’t dance.”




“Never.” The gauntlet has been thrown.


“I’ll ask again,” he said and turned to the blonde. “C’mon Jackie. Let’s swing.” Ben grabbed the girl’s hand and moved through the crowd. A whistle pierced the air.


“Swing time,” someone yelled and bodies started moving toward the large porch.


“Easy Breezy,” Becky called out as she swept past Joss. Interest piqued, she stood and moved toward the back of the house. An old tune, sounding like something from the thirties or forties filled the house. Four couples were on the dance floor, including Becky. She recognized two more of the Montgomery siblings, and then it was a blur of movement.


The crowd started to clap and sing along as if this was an expected part of the evening’s entertainment. Joss watched the couples twist, turn, shoot out in spins, and come back together. They bent and stretched, flapped their hands yet never stopped smiling. The pure delight on Becky’s face was contagious, and Joss began clapping along with the rest of the audience.


And then her eyes landed on Ben. His tall, muscular frame moved as gracefully as a cat but with the power of a bull. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. He spun the girl out and pulled her into his side, bent and moved forward, their feet pivoting back and forth in unison as they moved across the room. After another twirl, he pulled her into his chest, her face looking up at him with a huge expectant smile. His shirtsleeves strained against his muscled arms as he swung her up like a rag doll and tossed her against his hip, down against him for a brief moment as their eyes met, and back up on his other side.


When the song ended, she was as breathless as the dancers. He turned and searched the guests. His gaze latched onto her, traveling from her face to her heaving chest and back up to her eyes. That smile, those full lips, sent heat through her and dared her to come closer. The girl tugged at his arm, caught his attention for just a moment, and the spell was broken.



Excerpt from Merry Christmas, Henry —

“Hey, Henry, you want a little overtime?” the supervisor had asked. “Charlie called in sick and I could use an extra hand. Another rich collector remembered us in his will. We’ve got a pricey piece arriving in about an hour and I’d feel better with some extra security.”


Henry tried to wipe the smile off his face. Five years in the city and he still felt like a country bumpkin. “Sure.”


“The paper says a Rubens. Flemish, wasn’t he? But it’s a small one.”


Henry gave a whistle. “Impressive.”


“There’s a companion painting with it, artist unknown. We’ll have to find a spot for it in appreciation for the collector’s piece.”


An hour later, Henry held a priceless painting in his hands. God, he loved this job.


“The family probably figured they wouldn’t get any money out of the other one. But this one sure is a beauty,” the supervisor said as he reached for the Rubens.


“Yes, indeed,” Henry replied, as his eyes landed on the second painting. “Striking.”


Henry’s boss laughed. “I’m talking about this one, Bud. The little one is worth the big bucks!” His boss headed toward the office to start the paperwork on the new museum pieces.


“Yes, of course,” he murmured, but his attention remained focused on the woman in the larger painting.


She sat on the edge of a rocky cliff, her face slightly turned as if looking over the edge. Her legs were out to the side, knees bent, a long, olive-colored skirt spread around her haphazardly as if blown by the wind. The stormy ocean breakers rushed between jagged rocks then turned into frothy waves that lapped at the sand. The details in the picture were crisp and stark, the color was minimal—just the woman on a cliff with the turbulent water below. But the overall effect created a hauntingly beautiful scene.


He felt her distress, her sorrow. His fingers itched to reach out and pull her from the painting and hold her, soothe her, give her comfort. Henry knew that if she could turn and face him, he would be looking at the most exquisite creature he’d ever seen. His hand shook as he reached out to touch the canvas.


“Are you okay, Henry?”


Henry drew his hand back quickly as if he’d been caught in the act of—of what? Touching a frame? Good lord, he must be tired.


“What? Oh, yeah, I just need some sleep.” As Henry turned to leave, he took one last look at the woman who had just stolen his heart. Fate had given him a precious gift. He whistled “Angels We Have Heard on High” all the way home.



Buy Links

Dante’s Gift


Paper Love



Merry Christmas, Henry



Aubrey Wynne 

Author Biography

Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule and barn cats. She is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. Obsessions include history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas.

Her short stories Merry Christmas, Henry and Pete’s Mighty Purty Privies won the Preditors & Editors Reader’s Choice in 2013 and 2014. Dante’s Gift, first in A Chicago Christmas series, received the 2016 Golden Quill, Aspen Gold, and Heart of Excellence awards.

Her upcoming series “A Vintage Romance” was inspired by tales of her stepfather, who served in the British Air Force in WWII. Wynne’s medieval fantasy series “Medieval Encounters” begins with Rolf’s Quest, 2016 NTRWA Great Expectations winner.


Social Media Links

Website: http://aubreywynne.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Aubreywynne51


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aubrey.wynne.7


Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/Aubreywynne51

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/17695894-aubrey-wynne

We Need Your Help: Vote Now for A Hand of Magic by @DianeMoatAuthor #KindleScout #IARTG

Kindle Scout Nomination


Title A Hand of Magic

Author Diane Moat

Genre Romance, Fantasy


Book Blurb

Madison Knowles had barely learned she was a Healer before she was kidnapped by Weresnakes, and forced to heal them during their battles. After years of torture, she kills one of the Snakes so she can escape. Now Madison finds herself doing what no Healer should ever have to do – running for her life! While in hiding, she heals a Werepuppy and is suddenly surrounded by grateful Werewolves. The sexy Alpha of this Hand promises she will be protected if she stays with them. Can she trust him?


A Note from the Author:

My latest book is up for nomination on Kindle Scout. Please take a minute to check out the link and vote for “A Hand of Magic”. Authors with the most votes have a chance at Kindle picking up their book, which would be fantastic! Thank you all for your never-ending support of Indie authors.


Click to vote and if it’s selected, you’ll get a free copy when it’s published by Kindle Publishing:





Author Biography:

Diane is a Tennessee transplant, animal rescuer, and nurse. Dog Gone is her debut novel, born from years of hearing animal rescuers say about animal abusers, “If only I could get my hands on that person…” Diane is assisted by her many rescue dogs.


Social Media Links:

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/DianeMoatAuthor/

Website http://www.dianemoatauthor.com/

Twitter @DianeMoatAuthor


The Revels Continue… Christmas Revels IV is a #historicalromance Must-Read! #FridayReads

cr 4


Title – Christmas Revels IV: Four Regency Novellas

Author – Hannah Meredith, Anna D. Allen, Kate Parker, Louisa Cornell

Genre – Historical Romance

Publisher – Singing Spring Press


Book Blurb

The Revels Continue…

The Sergeant’s Christmas Bride – Sergeant Jacob Burrows just wants a place to bed down for the night. He never expects to be confronted by a lady with a gun. Elizabeth FitzWalter intends to drive the stranger off her land, until she realizes he meets her most pressing need.


Home for Christmas – When Charity Fletcher receives a mysterious bequest—a house by the sea—she hopes to rebuild her life. Lord Gilbert Narron leases a seaside house to hide from his memories of war. Charity’s refuge is Gil’s bolt-hole… but what both are seeking is a home for their hearts.



A Memorable Christmas Season –The last thing Lady Roekirk expects at her Christmas party is a dead traitor in her parlor… or the Crown’s Spymaster helping her hide the body. Thirty years earlier, she’d been forced to wed another and Lord Keyminster became a spy. After this long, does their love stand a chance?


A Perfectly Unforgettable Christmas – Every day, Lucien Rollinsby endures a memory of Christmas Eve. Not even his lovely new neighbor can make him forget that horrible night five years ago. Caroline McAlasdair remembers that Christmas Eve, too. But if Lucien recalls her presence there, it will destroy their only chance at happiness forever.


Buy Links

Amazon – http://a.co/h2H98jd


Apple iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/christmas-revels-iv-four-regency-novellas/id1289152547?mt=11


Barns and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-revels-iv-hannah-meredith/1127145055?ean=2940154556139


Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/christmas-revels-iv-four-regency-novellas


Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36302269-christmas-revels-iv


Revellers 4


Author Biography


Hannah Meredith is, above all, a storyteller. She’s long been fascinated by the dreams that haunt the human heart and has an abiding interest in English history. This combination led her to write historical romance. Hannah is a member of RWA, the Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, and SFWA.


Anna D. Allen lives deep in the woods with too many books and not enough dogs. She holds a Bachelor of Science and a Master of Arts in Language and Literature. Her future plans include growing tomatoes and cleaning out the freezer. When not writing or reading, she can be found in the kitchen.


Kate Parker grew up reading her mother’s collection of mystery books by Christie, Sayers, and others. Now she can’t write a story without someone being murdered, and everyday items are studied for their lethal potential. It’s taken her years to convince her husband that she hasn’t poisoned dinner; that funny taste is because she just can’t cook.


Louisa Cornell is a retired opera singer living in LA (Lower Alabama) who cannot remember a time she wasn’t writing or telling stories. Anglophile, student of Regency England, historical romance writer— she escaped Walmart to write historical romance and hasn’t looked back. She is a member of RWA, Southern Magic RWA, and the Beau Monde Chapter of RWA.



Social Media Links


Hannah – http://www.hannahmeredith.com



Anna – http://beket1.wix.com/annadallen



Kate – http://www.KateParkerbooks.com



Louisa – http://onelondonone.blogspot.com/






Bartholomew Buggins (Our Favorite Zombie) is our Special Guest! #kidlit #IARTG #FridayReads



Today, we have a special treat for you. Our favorite zombie (kid-friendly, of course) is here as our special guest. He wants to be your friend. Welcome, Bartholomew to the POTL Blog.

Hello, thank you very much for inviting me to be interviewed. I am very excited that you would want to meet me. I even wore my best suit and dusted myself off as much as I could.


What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Well, perfect happiness today would be if we could go to the park after this interview to sit under a tree and read a good book. Afterwards, we could discuss it over a picnic tea. Doesn’t that sound nice?


Which talent would you most like to have?

I wish that I could speed read. Then, I could read more books.


Where would you most like to live?

I like where I live now, the town is full of interesting people and I haven’t had the chance to meet them all yet and I would like nothing more than to do that.


What is your most treasured possession?

My book of poetry that I have written. I sometimes read them aloud at poetry nights. I enjoy sharing my thoughts.


What is your most marked characteristic?

I’d have to say that I get frequent compliment on my eyes. How big and round and cute they are. Can you tell I am blushing?


Aww, you’re cute! What do you most value in your friends?

I believe I value loyalty the most. It’s important to have friends who will stand by you and support you. I will always do the same for my friends.


What is your current state of mind?

I am currently very happy because I have gotten to meet you and made another friend.


What is your motto?

Being yourself is key to you being you and me being me.




Title: Bartholomew Buggins: A Zombie with Different Cravings

Author: Crystal Marcos

Genre: Children’s Picture Book

Publisher: Cat Marcs Publishing


Book Blurb:

A humorous rhyming picture book for ages 4 and up by award-winning author Crystal Marcos features a distinguished little zombie who just wants to be your friend.

Dive head-first into the infectiously charming pages, oozing with whimsical verse and stricken with colorful and amusing illustrations. Bartholomew Buggins: A Zombie with Different Cravings is a unique, fun book that will have kids and adults shrieking with delight.




Book Trailer:


Buy Links:


Kindle edition: http://viewbook.at/BartholomewBugginseBook

Paperback edition: http://viewbook.at/AmazonBBuggins


Barnes and Noble:

Paperback edition: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bartholomew-buggins-crystal-marcos/1126383569


Signed copies: http://www.crystalmarcos.com/bb/buggins.html


Crystal Marcos


Author Biography:

Award-winning author Crystal Marcos has been a storyteller her entire life. As the oldest of five children, she had to do a lot of entertaining. Crystal is the author of two children’s books, BELLYACHE: A Delicious Tale and HEADACHE: The Hair-Raising Sequel to BELLYACHE. She recently wrote her first Young Adult novel, Novus (The Cresecren Chronicles, Book 1). Bartholomew Buggins is her first picture book. She lives in Washington State with her husband, daughter Kaylee, and son Jaxon.


Social Media Links:

Website: http://www.crystalmarcos.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CrystalMarcos

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CrystalMarcos

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/crystalmarcos/

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/crystal-marcos/2a/979/b9b

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/CrystalMarcos

Amazon Author: http://www.amazon.com/Crystal-Marcos/e/B003TGP4EO/



Myths, Magic, Mayhem… Mythic Tales Box Set Featuring @LibraryofErana #fantasy #SFF

 Mythic Tales box set


Box Set Title Mythic Tales Bundle


Title and Author

Book #1:

Beneath the Knowe – Anthea Sharp


Book #2:

Tales of Erana – A. L. Butcher


Book #3:

A Sword’s Poem – Leah Cutter


Book #4:

On the Edge of Faerie -Stefon Mears


Book #5:

Sorcha’s Heart – Debbie Mumford


Book #6:

Tales Fabulous and Fairy Volume 1 – Kim Antieau


Book #7:

Tempus – Janet Morris


Book #8:

Caught in Amber – J.M. Ney-Grimm


Book #9:

Warden of Power – Karen L. Abrahamson


Book #10:

Beautiful – Barbara G. Tarn


Book #11

Lost: Cinderella’s Secret Witch Diaries (Book 1) -Ron Vitale


Book #12:

Tales of the Faie: The Beginning of Days – Diana L. Wicker


Book #13

Angels and Djinn, Book 1: Raziel’s Shadow – Joseph Robert Lewis


Book #14:

Magic for a Rainy Day – Alexandra Brandt


Genre Fantasy/Mythic


Publisher Bundlerabbit


Book Blurb

A collection of tales told in the old mythic style or set in ancient times, with fairies, monsters and daring deeds. From dark fantasy worlds to the legendary past of our own, myths and legends abound.


Mythic Tales Montage



Tales of Erana: Myths and Legends – A. L. Butcher


Erana is a world of magic, and although forbidden the magic persists for magic is wild and will not yield to law.  It is a world ruled by oppression but hope walks in shadow, ever watching for a chance to flourish. It is a world where there is love and despair in equal measure.  These are the tales and myths from such a world.


The mortal races of Erana are the elves, the trolls and the humans and each has their history, their lore, and of course their heroes. There are also other creatures, those of magic and myth, those of the old times and the secret places.  These are the gods and demigods and the creatures born of magic. When such creatures walk among those whose lives are fleeting love and war, hope and despair, and magic and mayhem abound.


Plague and war are familiar to the denizens of Erana. With strife comes disease but the Plague was much more than mere sickness. It brought the elves of Erana to the brink of destruction and it touched each and every race to some degree. It fed on magic and on ignorance and fear, and it shaped a world. The Plague brought the Order of Witch-Hunters to the fore and a martial law which became tyranny.  Some of these stories are from a time before the Plague was seen, in the times when Erana was a young world, and a world filled with light. Some are not.



Lost (Cinderella’s Secret Witch Diaries) – Rin Vitale


What happened to Cinderella after she married the Prince? Set in the late 1700s as Napoleon is rising to power, Cinderella embarks on a journey of self-discovery as she tries to come to terms with her failed marriage and her inability to have a child. Torn between the Queen’s insistence that she try all means necessary to conceive and her own desires, she agrees to travel to Paris to consult with a witch to help her become pregnant. Her journey leads her to find her long lost Fairy Godmother and aids her to solve the mystery behind her mother’s death. Yet the Fey Lord, the Silver Fox, also takes notice in her and her world is suddenly turned upside down…


Beautiful – Barbara G Tarn

The young man sat and stretched his arms, yawning.


“Where is everybody?” he asked, still sleepy.


“There is nobody around,” Kerrien answered. “The castle is abandoned.”


“What?” The green eyes stared at him, shocked.


Kerrien motioned towards the windows opening onto the courtyard. The young man slowly got up, stared puzzled at Kerrien’s boot tracks on the floor and headed for the windows, turning back to look at his own tracks in the dust.


“Do you have a name?” Kerrien asked, crossing his arms over his chest as the young man put his forehead on the window pane and gasped in surprise.


“Rithvik,” came the absentminded reply. “What happened out there?”


“I guess everybody left,” Kerrien answered. “You might have slept for longer than you think.”


“I… slept…” Rithvik mused, then turned to look at him. “And what are you doing here?”


“Looting, what else?” He chuckled. “Actually, I’m a bounty hunter. Four bandits had found refuge in that tower over there. The loot was taken by the town militia, and I was paid for finding them.”


“What town?” Rithvik asked, puzzled.




“There’s no such town!”


“Come on, Rithvik…”


Prince Rithvik!” The young man straightened and glared at him.


“Prince of what? Dust and spiders?” Kerrien teased.


“My kingdom is wealthy and mighty! We even managed to stay independent from the Moren Empire!”


Kerrien did a quick calculation.


“I’m sorry to inform you that the last Moren emperor died more than a century ago.” He was starting to enjoy the conversation. The young man was gorgeous but a little too full of himself. “Like I said, this place is abandoned. Come downstairs and see for yourself.”



Buy Links

Mythic Tales Bundle

Mythic Tales on Bundle Rabbit https://bundlerabbit.com/b/mythic-tales

Mythic Tales on Kobo http://bit.ly/2fI2Ons

Mythic Tales on Amazon http://amzn.to/2fFWnkI

Mythic Tales on Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/2xLbdLi

Mythic Tales on I-tunes http://apple.co/2xMaolH


Author Alexandra Butcher Biography

British-born Alexandra Butcher (a/k/a  A. L. Butcher) is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as evocative.  She writes with a sure and sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but could be.


Alex is the author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales of Erana lyrical fantasy series. She also has several short stories in the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style horror. With a background in politics, classical studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.



Social Media Links

Amazon Author page http://amzn.to/2hK33OM


Facebook Author Page http://bit.ly/FB2j0bbdZ


Twitter http://bit.ly/Twi2hJZ3h9


Goodreads http://bit.ly/GR2iqokvK


Library of Erana Blog http://bit.ly/Blog2iAWL3o


Linked In https://www.linkedin.com/in/alex-butcher-8342ab13b/


Tumblr https://libraryoferana.tumblr.com



Cowboy Strong Boxset Featuring @Melissa_Keir #romance #westernromance

Bidding for the Cowboys Heart LRG


Title: Bidding for the Cowboy’s Heart by Melissa Keir


Boxset: Cowboy Strong


Authors: Cowboy Strong- Allison Merritt, Leslie P. Garcia, Melissa Keir, Autumn Piper, Sara Walter Ellwood and D’Ann Lindun


Genre: Contemporary Western Romance


Cowboy Strong Front Cover


Book Blurb:

Fall in Love with a man who works with his hands…a man who cherishes his loved ones…


Love a man who is Cowboy Strong….


The Cowboy’s Secret by Allison Merritt

Can an all-around cowboy make peace with his past and find love with a spunky cowgirl who steals his family’s heart?


Not the End, Cowboy by Autumn Piper

Hitting humanity with a pandemic isn’t enough for Fate—she’ll make you survive it with the one person you never want to see again.


Bidding for the Cowboy’s Heart by Melissa Keir

Going once, going twice, sold. Can a New York socialite find love with a Colorado bull rider she won at auction?


Saving Cowboy by Leslie Garcia

Betrayal embittered them both—can love heal their hurt and help them save a horse named Cowboy?


Welcome Home, Cowboy by Sara Walter Ellwood

Who says you can’t ever go home?

Lorelei Kent fears she’ll never find love again. Back on her ranch isn’t where playboy bull rider Tucker O’Connell wants to be. Will she welcome him home? Or will his secret promise to her ex destroy any chance they might have had?


Her Taylor Made Cowboy by D’Ann Lindun
As a successful model, Taylor Griffin hated being judged for her looks unless Waylon Wainwright can prove he sees the woman, and not just her beauty.




Carlie glanced at her phone, anxious to be anywhere but at the auction. Not that it wasn’t a good cause, but a date auction—she’d rather bid on a piece of artwork than a couple of hours with a boring man. The chef, Pierre, was a prime example. Like many of the men she knew from New York City, he thought he was God’s gift to women. As if women couldn’t cook or take care of themselves. Lifting her glass to her lips, she swallowed the last of her second seven and seven. Slightly buzzed but bored out of her mind. She longed to head back to her loft apartment above Angela’s café. How much longer? She peeked at her phone again. Only one minute had passed since she’d last checked the time.


“Are you having fun?” Angela leaned over and placed another drink in front of Carlie. “Texting a guy?”


“No guy. With the move to Whisper, I’ve been focusing on getting settled and starting up teaching dance lessons. The space above Debra’s is perfect for a dance studio, and I’m getting inquiries from local parents. Michelle’s been passing the word around school.” She nodded toward Angela. “And, of course, I have the best landlady. The loft is outstanding. Would you believe something like that would rent for three thousand dollars in New York, give or take.”


“I’m so glad you’re here. Tonight and in Whisper.” She gently squeezed Carlie’s arm. “Maybe I should raise the rent if you think it’s so cheap.” She teased then continued. “I never thought Michelle would accept you after the incident with Preston.”


Carlie’s smile faltered at the reminder of how Michelle had almost walked away from the town veterinarian. All over a misunderstanding. “I’m so fortunate she listened and realized Preston’s like a brother to me. I’d never get in the way of their relationship. He adores her and her daughter. He even puts up with her mom.”


“Preston’s helped us so much at the ranch. His care of Cheyenne after her infection was outstanding. I swear, his grandfather’s spirit gave him a helping hand. He’s such a wonderfully caring man. Now we have to find you a special someone.” She raised a brow and pointed at the list of dates coming up.


Carlie shook her head. “I’m not in any hurry to find a man and settle down. It’s refreshing to be out from under my father’s thumb. Preston always complained about his father’s rules and restrictions. But my dad was much worse. Partially because I’m a girl, but also because of how he was raised—a typical male-dominated life of wealth and privilege. No one defies him in the boardroom nor in his home.”


Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076N341FN/


Melissa Keir


Author Biography:

Melissa Keir has always wanted to be an author when she wasn’t hoping for a career as a racecar driver. Her love of books was instilled by her mother and grandparents who were avid readers. She’d often sneak books away from them so that she could fantasize about those strong alpha males and plucky heroines. In middle school and high school, Melissa used to write sappy love poems and shared them with her friends and still has those poems today! In college her writing changed to sarcastic musings on life as well as poems with a modern twist on fairy tales and won awards for her writing. You can find many of these musings along with her latest releases on her website and blog.


Melissa doesn’t believe in down time. She’s always keeping busy. Melissa is a wife and mother, an elementary school teacher, a movie reviewer with WHMI (a local radio station), owner of a publishing company as well as an author. Her home blends two families and is a lot like the Brady Bunch, without Alice- a large grocery bill, tons of dirty dishes and a mound of laundry. She loves to write stories that feature happy endings and is often seen plotting her next story.


She’d love to hear from you!








Irons in the Fire by @PenelopeMarzec #romance #paranormalromance #giveaway

IRONSFIREebook - Penelope Marzec




Author: Penelope Marzec


Genre: Paranormal Romance


Publisher: Originally published by New Concepts Publishing and then later published by Crescent Moon Press. It has now been reissued by the author.



Book Blurb:

Descended from fairies, Catherine wears a mystical cross to protect her from the Others. Without her uncle’s ancient book of spells, she cannot harness her powers and though she can foresee the future, she can do nothing to change it.


As her uncle is murdered, she nearly drowns. Britt Jenkins comes to her rescue. He believes she is a fraud when she tries to warn him of his own impending doom, but as he works with her to find her uncle’s killer, he finds himself losing his heart to her.


Catherine falls hard for Britt, and must risk her life in an attempt to save him and foil the plans of the Others.


Enter to Win:

A Rafflecopter Giveaway from October 31, 2017, to November 2, 2017


Win a paper edition of IRONS IN THE FIRE!

​Click on the link to find out more







This was the first time she’d ever had such a strong premonition while awake, but it had turned out to be wrong. She had made a mistake. Could she also be wrong about Uncle Mike’s murder and the clue in the note?


“Where have you been?” Jenkins’ voice rumbled from below.


Startled, she quickly hid both hands behind her back. Why should he care where she had been?




He gave a mighty yank on the ratchet wrench. Her heart did a little whirl as she watched his muscles bulge and tense.


“You shouldn’t be out walking by yourself,” he growled before giving the wrench another tug. The sinews in his shoulders rippled and something melted inside her. Perhaps Drew was right. Her emotions had gone haywire.


“I’m a big girl,” she retorted coolly. Pivoting, she decided to return to the house and do battle with the cobwebs on the third floor.


“Even big girls can’t deflect bullets,” he called.


She paused. Was that a threat? Or another attempt at suffocating protection? She swung about. “Who’s going to shoot at me?”


“Somebody has already tried, once.” He removed the piece of metal from the piling and ran his right index finger along the edge. As he did, her own finger suddenly felt singed. She had to grit her teeth to prevent a wince.


“Perhaps the same person who didn’t like Mike, didn’t like you, either,” he continued.


“Take your finger off that thing,” she begged.


He gave her a quizzical look, but removed his finger from the metal. The fire in her finger immediately ceased. She let out a sigh of relief, clasping her right hand close to her bosom.


Britt stared at Catherine. In a split second, she’d turned a sickly alabaster. Damned hocus-pocus. The vixen had the earmarks of a professional money- grubbing psychic. He placed his finger on the edge of the metal again.


“Stop. Please,” she hissed, swaying dizzily at the edge of the bulkhead.


He threw the piece into a bucket. That a crazy woman! Lunging for the bulkhead, he swung himself up and over, grabbing a handful of her pink fleece top to lift her away from the edge.


“I don’t intend to jump into that water and do the valiant rescue bit every day.” His face hovered inches from hers. Her eerie eyes, wide and searching, made his heart slam up against his chest with a jolt. Taking in an unsteady breath, he put his left hand up to her waist, intending to place her gently on her own two feet. But his hand didn’t land on rough cotton. It slid against smooth skin. Instinctively, his fingers sought the small of her back, and he pressed her up against him.


“You beast!” she spat. “Put me down this instant.”


The touch of her hands against his chest seared right through the heavy bib of his overalls. He dropped her like a hot coal. “Damn you, Catherine Mullaney. You’re one hell of a witch,” he swore.



Buy Links:

Amazon: http://a.co/i5gnopU

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/irons-in-the-fire-penelope-marzec/1100309892?ean=2940152026146

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/irons-in-the-fire-5

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/irons-in-the-fire/id1018913990?mt=11

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/557325




Author Biography:

Penelope Marzec grew up along the Jersey shore, heard stories about Captain Kidd, and dug for his buried treasure. All she got was a bad case of poison ivy. Deciding books were better than buried treasure, she discovered romance novels and was soon hooked on happy endings. She became an early childhood educator and found her own hero in an electrical engineer who grew up in Brooklyn, played the accordion, and was immune to poison ivy. Together they raised three daughters. Now retired, Penelope either writes her stories or paints seascapes in oils. Sometimes she sings while her husband plays the accordion.

Twice a winner and once a finalist of the EPIC Ebook Awards for inspirational fiction, she continues to love romances with happy endings.


You can find her online at penelopemarzec.com , read her blog at http://penelopemarzec.blogspot.com, or become a fan at www.facebook.com/penelopemarzecbooks


Social Media Links

Website: www.penelopemarzec.com

Blog: http://penelopemarzec.blogspot.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/penelopemarzecbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/penelopemarzec

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/penelopemarzec/




In Hell, We Reap What You Sow — Hell Hounds by @WestonAndrew #darkfantasy #books



Title: Hell Hounds

Author: Andrew P. Weston

Genre: Dark Fantasy

Publisher: Perseid Press


Book Blurb:

Feared throughout the many circles of the underworld, Satan’s Reaper – and chief bounty hunter – Daemon Grim, is known as a true force to be reckoned with.


Having eliminated a major player in the uprising eating its way like a cancer through the underbelly of hell, Grim is stunned to discover he cannot afford to rest on his laurels, for the rebellion runs far deeper than was ever imagined. New players have emerged – denizens with uncanny abilities – who seem determined to support Chopin and Tesla’s revolutionary agenda.


Ever keen to test their mettle, the Sibitti – personified weapons of the ancient Babylonian plague god, Erra – also appear eager to capitalize on the growing unrest, and set about maneuvering events in order to place themselves in direct opposition to Grim’s investigation.


And if that was not cause for concern enough, there’s an insane angel on the loose, a creature as hell-bent on creating havoc as he is to return home.


How do Grim and his rabid pack of bounty hunters respond?


Baying for blood – doesn’t even begin to describe it.



Deep beneath the streets of Olde London Town, the brick-lined galleries of the main sewers resounded with the echoes of pursuit. Water splished and filth sploshed in time to erratic footfalls, and every now and then, each resonating burst of frenzied activity was punctuated by an interlude of hacking sobs as the terrified victim tried to catch both his breath and his bearings.


The endless chain of low wattage emergency beacons dotted along the apex of the tunnels stretched off into the distance. But their wan light did little to dispel the midnight embrace leaching into every nook and cranny, and if anything, only served to define the darkness into tighter clusters.


Isabella Castile slowed her pace and judged her prey’s progress.


It had been like this for more than an hour, ever since her quarry had discovered his second wind, in fact, and a determination to fight against the seeming inevitability of his situation.


Why Isabella had chosen this particular denizen, she didn’t know. Maybe the color of his hair, the cut of his pinstripe suit, the way he turned his nose up at those around him. None of it mattered now, for once started, she would continue the hunt until she had added his name to a growing list of damned souls who found themselves, at her behest, in dread repose upon the Undertaker’s slab.


His haphazard course through the maze was a clear indicator of the Blue Suit’s panic, and the notion that he would leave his fate to happenchance only spurred Isabella to greater efforts. That, and the sour aftertaste lacing his pheromone-ridden trail.


Isabella reached the latest in a long line of junctions. Pausing just long enough to taste the ether, she quickly determined his new route and set off with a fresh spring in her step and a deepening ache in her throat.


Not long now, my sweet. Not long.


A cruel smile stole its way across her lips.




The betraying splash tolled like a death knell in the dark.


Halting her advance, Isabella hugged the shadows along the far wall, and sang: “Can you hear what I hear?”


Her tuneful query elicited nothing but silence.


Creeping forward, she peered around the lip of a side shaft, her fingers testing the air like spider legs on a web. “And can you see what I see?”


A knife appeared in her hand where nothing had existed before. Then it was gone, traversing the fifty-foot gap in the blink of an eye.


A grunt coughed out of the gloom. Then a stifled curse. Moments later, the filthy waters slopping about Isabella’s feet turned crimson.


She stepped out into the scant illumination offered by a meager cone of light from the ceiling and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath.


“No, please. I’ll give you anything you want . . .” was all the Blue Suit managed to gasp before calamity fell upon him.


Buy Links:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076GWZ4DW


Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B076GWZ4DW


Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B076GWZ4DW


Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hell-hounds-andrew-p-weston/1127314562?ean=2940158740053


Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36472614-hell-hounds


Andrew Weston


Author Biography:

Andrew P. Weston is a military and police veteran from the UK who now lives with a large amount of cats in a medium sized house on a small Greek island.


An astronomy and law graduate, he is the creator of the international #1 bestselling and critically acclaimed IX Series, and has the privilege of contributing to the Heroes in Hell shared universe.


Social Media Links:
Website: http://www.andrewpweston.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/WestonAndrew

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andrewpaul.weston




Happy Release Day to the Moonlight Magic Box Set! @LiviaQuinn #PNR #MM #UF #books #Halloween

MoonlightMagicBoxsetWithoutBG FINAL


Title: Moonlight Magic Box Set


Livia Quinn’s Story: Blood Moon


Genre: Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy





There’s a new supe in Destiny. She sauntered into the Moat of Morpheus a redheaded violet-eyed warrior carrying a giant head-splitter of a sword and wielding it with magic. Her name was Cinder. River felt an immediate attraction as well as a lifting of the despair that had been his only companion for months. But it was short lived.


She was there to kill a dragonhunter and accused River of hiding the truth about him. Turns out, she was right. River had a secret and his own reasons for remaining quiet. If he couldn’t break free of the villain’s control, there would be devastating consequences for his family and ultimately, the Paramortals.


After his sister and the dragon sheriff go missing, River and Cinder join forces. But history has a way of coming full circle and echoes from their past bring a shattering revelation about their Paramortal family and the dragonhunter’s true identity, the full disclosure neither could have anticipated. Can they forgive the past to overcome their common enemy or will the news tear their relationship and the Paramortals apart forever?



Excerpt (Blood Moon by Livia Quinn):

“Oh, Conor. I failed.”


He placed his hands on her shoulders and peeled her away from him. He sensed Montana’s presence as he put Cinder at arm’s length and looked into her distraught features. His sister was famous for never allowing people or problems to get to her, for seeing humor in most any situation. This was new. “ Piuthar bheag, what has you so upset.”


Cinder looked at Montana who raised her shoulders and looked at the house in question, but Cinder shook her head. “It does not matter if you have seen me trash my heritage or my total failure. It will be well known before long.”


Conor didn’t accept her self-flagellation. “Hush, now, sister. Tell me whit happened.”


Cinder’s breath shuddered out. “I tracked the dragonhunter. Styx, I heard his men call him. They met in the woods behind the Moat of Morpheus.” Her eyes searched his. “It was as sure a kill as I could ever hope for but…” Her voice trailed away as she looked at Montana and then at the ground. Her shoulders slumped as she whispered, “I couldn’t do it.”


Conor frowned. He couldn’t have heard right. “How do you mean? Why couldn’t you complete your blood calling? Whit could have stopped you?”


Her stricken eyes rose to his. “I sensed something in him.” She shook her head violently as Conor opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t know, Conor. It felt¾I felt… connected to him somehow, as if in killing… in killing him I would destroy a part of myself.” Tears filled her eyes as the devastating thought took hold. “How can that be? It is my duty, my blood work to kill dragonhunters. What is wrong with me?”


Conor’s mind raced. Cinder was part fae. Could this be a trick by the dragonhunter? They didn’t know this Styx’ true nature. Even if he was a fae, it should not matter. There was no reason why she wouldn’t be able to take out another fae if that was her mission. As with all life forms, dragons were created with a purpose and Cinder was a special sub species. Only a few ever existed and they were relentless in their pursuit of their prey.


Montana spoke for the first time, as usual reading his mind. “Do you think Petre and Arabella might know something?” She knew him so well.


Cinder looked questioningly at Montana. “Who are these people you speak of?”


Conor said, “They are the king and queen of faerie folk here. That is a good suggestion, Montana. Thank you for reminding me.”


Montana smiled at his thoughtful response. He knew how uncomfortable she’d been on their visit to the Faerie Inn. The Fae king had a special appetite for vampires, but because of their gushing exuberance at Conor’s presence they’d shown special… tolerance in her presence.


“They can tell us of any new fae arrivals and perhaps enlighten you about your own heritage,” said Conor. “I’m sorry, Cinder, I should have made it my business to know more before you found yerself in this position. I wish we could leave now, but two dragons flying over Destiny in broad daylight would cause a stir, ya ken?”


He hoped to gain a smile from his little sister but the look on her face told him she was back reliving the moment when she’d been unable to fulfill her mission.


“You could call a taxi,” said Montana. Two sets of eyes snapped toward her. She raised her hands and grinned, “What? You’ve never taken a taxi?”


When they continued to gape at her she shrugged. “It’s like you always say, Conor. ‘Needs must’.”


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Livia Quinn’s Bio:

Livia Quinn is a DC native who lives on the bayou in Louisiana where she gets her inspiration from the state’s weather and its fascinating history. She has written ten books in the Storm Lake area, both paranormal and contemporary. As a former mail lady, plant manager, professional singer and salesperson, she has saved up lot of quirky stories to share with her readers.


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