Meet Stoet (Storyteller and Poet) Frida R. and her Latest Release #books #FridayReads


Frida R Author Photo

 

Many of you might not know that MRS N loves reading urban fiction/prose/poetry. I happened across Frida on social media and we just clicked. Maybe it’s because we’ve been through our share of heartbreak and suffering, maybe it’s because our natural writing style is poetic prose, who knows what it was but we connected. I asked her to sit down with me for an interview and she agreed. Her answers intrigued me and her excerpt gripped me. Please take a moment and check her out. Let’s get started…

 

What is your writing process?

Oddly enough, I’ve never even thought about this before, but I guess I do have a writing process. I always have my journal with me, so I can jot things down no matter where I am. But when I really want to get into writing, I have a bottle of wine, with the lights in my bedroom dimmed, while playing music that draws emotion out of me. My go-to’s are Mary J. Blige, Adele, Toni Braxton, and Kelly Clarkson. This is usually always a nighttime thing. The moon gives me energy.

 

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

I’m already working on my second book. “Blossom’s Wine Bar” was just a little taste of what’s to come. I wanted to use it as an introduction to my voice and writing style, which is why I kept it short. The next book will be at least double the length.

 

I’m also working on a lifestyle website where I will talk mostly about dating and relationships. It will be somewhat of a follow-up to the articles I wrote for the Huffington Post on the same topics.

 

Do you read your reviews? Do you respond to them, good or bad? Do you have any advice on how to deal with the bad?

I do read my reviews. I respond to the positive ones where there is a real human connection to my writing, like someone saying I helped them through a tough time or something like that. I typically just laugh at the negative ones. I can’t allow myself to be bothered by someone who either has a different perception or just missed my point entirely.

 

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

Yes, I drink either whiskey or wine pretty often and I smoke weed here and there. My vices change based on what I have going on. When I want to avoid and cover up my stress, I love the combination of a man who doesn’t ask too many questions and alcohol. When I want to think freely to clear my head, I paint.

 

What is your biggest fear?

I don’t trust or associate with many people. The people I confide in have been in my life for years, they’ve seen me grow up. My biggest fear isn’t of my own death, it’s theirs, especially my best friend, we’re soulmates. I’m not sure who I would be without that support system.

 

What were you like as a child? Your favorite toy?

I was a shy and quiet child. My mother sometimes worried that I didn’t have enough friends. I always liked to write. I don’t remember a point in my life where I didn’t have a diary where I wrote all my secrets, even in elementary school.

 

I was also a tomboy. I wanted to be tough like my older brother, so we fought alot and he taught me how to play baseball. My Barbie’s were my favorite toys. I really enjoyed changing their hairstyles. I’ve always liked experimenting with hair which got me into trouble because I’d always change my own after my mother styled it.

 

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

I’d be a lion. I’m a Leo and I’ve always felt connected to them. I love the way the females are beautiful and graceful, yet vicious. I’m a lot like that and I feel my best when my hair is big and crazy like a male lion’s mane.

 

What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

If you wanna stand out, write from your heart because no matter how much someone else may try to copy you, no one can duplicate your inner truth. Also, don’t bother to pick up a pen if writing isn’t the reason you breathe. This isn’t something you half-ass. Writing is a calling, not a hobby. Stick with it, hone your craft, and develop an ego that’s rejection proof.

 

What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?

Recognizing and trusting my intuition. I have so much more clarity now that I’ve let go and decided to follow my instincts. I’m fearless, I take risks, and I learn from my failures. This has impacted every aspect of my life from my relationships, to my health, and career.

 

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Title

Blossom’s Wine Bar

 

Author

Frida R.

 

Genre

Poetry/Short Stories

 

Publisher

BlackGirlMagic Publishing

 

Book Blurb

In the memoir-like chapbook, “Blossom’s Wine Bar” Frida R. snatches her audience’s hearts and drags them down the unpaved roads of her messy, ever-changing alcohol soaked world. With fair amounts of wit and grit, “Blossom’s Wine Bar” is a collection of stoems (poems that read like short stories) and personal essays where she pulls readers deeper into her world by revealing the events that pushed her to create such raw art. Genuine, vulnerable and sometimes crass, Frida R. opens up about abortion, relationships, depression, and suicide. With so many things that have gone wrong, she shares the life lessons and moments of self-awareness that allow her to continuously progress because as she says, “If you aren’t going to continue to grow and change, you’re just a waste of food and resources.” “Blossom’s Wine Bar” reads like conversations between friends because Frida R. is an author who thrives from the idea of connecting with her audience. She wishes to be a voice to the voiceless and a source of motivation for the underdog, making her the stoet (storyteller & poet) to look out for.

 

Excerpt

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At 3:23, I woke up sweating.

It’s finally happening.

He’s gonna get me.

 

I began to perform my nighttime routine at 9:53.

I confirmed no one was in the house with me,

checked the locks on the doors and windows,

then adjusted the heat.

 

I removed my makeup and after I brushed my teeth,

I said a prayer.

 

I asked for strength and protection, but not relief,

and I included a bit about my misplaced sanity.

I’m not sure if anyone hears this shit but me

cause I can’t remember the last time I slept peacefully.

 

I was tucked into my bed by 10:15,

finding little comfort in the knife beside me.

I trained myself to sleep with the hall light on

cause when it’s too dark, is when I feel I’m not alone.

 

It’s 3:33.

 

Ten minutes ago, the sound of my name

crept into my ear and woke me.

I know his voice, but not his face.

 

He’s been taking my life away, slowly.

 

As I sit up in bed hyperventilating,

I hear laughter.

 

Knowing my torture is his pleasure, I cry.

 

He keeps laughing at me.

 

I wish I could call someone,

but he made my friends believe I’m crazy

so, nobody comes around anymore.

 

The laughter I heard is replaced by chatter.

This is the first time I’ve heard more than just his voice.

 

I counted four or five men.

I can’t keep up with them,

nor can I make sense of what they say.

If they’re truly inside of me, how will I pull away?

 

I scream thinking they’ll pause.

Nah. They’re even more riled up

and it’s my fault.

 

Chatter, chatter.

Faster, faster.

Laughter, louder.

 

I scream again.

 

My body is soaking wet with sweat…

 

I’ve gotta go.

 

I jump from my bed and my feet land in a red puddle.

I look, but the wine from my nightstand hadn’t spilled.

While I stand there, the puddle grows,

and I know it’s blood flooding my room.

Then, I blink and everything is clean.

 

Again, they’re laughing at me.

 

I run.

 

The walls are closing in on me, I can see the doorway shrinking.

I know it sounds like I’m going insane, but this ain’t my imagination.

I turn the knob and pull with all my strength, but nothing happens.

That’s when he clears his throat and my brain goes silent. My body feels numb.

 

It’s 3:41.

 

I can hardly see through my tears

as I fall to the floor.

Warmth covers my body and

I don’t wanna fight no more.

He calls my name and I open my eyes

to see blood on my legs and feet.

I look above me and see it leaking from the ceiling.

I’m right beneath my bedroom.

I’m not even shocked.

 

It’s 4:00.

 

There’s a whisper with a message.

It’s an instruction, I’m being tested.

He promises more torment if I fail.

I need to be violent, but I’m frail.

 

I slowly follow his voice to the kitchen.

I empty the cabinet housing my prescriptions.

I pour a glass of wine, and

grab and handful of pills.

He said that after this, he’ll leave

and I’ll finally heal.

 

I get comfortable on the couch and

play a Lady Antebellum song.

I’ll just sing along ’til nothing hurts anymore.

 

There will be no dreams, or headaches,

unwarranted outbursts, and sweaty handshakes.

 

I will no longer feel lonely, frightened,

and unloved. No more paranoia, heartache,

or feeling misunderstood.

 

No more being called “crazy.”

 

I was found dead three days later at 4:24.

 

Buy Links

Amazon US –

https://www.amazon.com/Blossoms-Wine-Bar-Frida-R/dp/1549502700/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1504216006&sr=8-1&keywords=blossoms+wine+bar

 

Author Biography

When she isn’t writing, painting, or experimenting in her kitchen, Frida R. can be found pranking her far too trusting boyfriend and subsequently begging for forgiveness after she’s laughed herself to into a tear-filled ab workout.

 

By the time she’d graduated the fifth grade, Frida knew she would grow up to become a writer after having authored several short stories, songs, and stacks of unsent hate mail to her older brother for picking on her and messing with her toys.

 

Four years of writing for small blogs and a local women’s magazine led Frida to climb a freelance writer’s Mt. Everest by getting herself published by The Huffington Post just a few months after they’d rejected her first submission.

 

Today, female empowerment drives Frida’s work. Recklessly raw and unfiltered, she speaks on her struggles with love, depression, suicidal thoughts, and learning to fight for herself. In her debut novel, “Blossom’s Wine Bar”, Her agenda is clear: Frida R. fights dirty and hates living in a world where hardworking women are told they aren’t good enough, victims remain victims, and mental health is overlooked.

 

Although, she writes about the darkness we all get trapped in, Frida R. includes not false hope and fluff, but proof of a light that shines at the end of the tunnel.

 

Social Media Links

Facebook www.facebook.com/fridarosebud

 

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Is It Serendipity…or Magic? @LiviaQuinn Visits A Haunted Jail #paranormal #MoonlightMagic #IARTG


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Is it serendipity…or magic?

 

You’ve heard that saying “when the lesson is needed the teacher will appear” or something like that. Well, one of the things I find fascinating about writing is the way things just fall into place with characters, plots — even settings. It really seems like magic, like the universe is one big creative mind that delivers when you ask, and even when you don’t.

 

When I was nearly finished with my current release, Blood Moon, which is up for preorder in the Moonlight Magic Collection, one of the main characters in my series, Jack Lang, former fighter pilot and newly turned Phoenix dragon was about to be captured.

 

I needed someplace close to my fictional town of Destiny near my fictional Louisiana lake that would be strong, inescapable. I thought — something like an old rusted, heavily barred French prison. My critique partner said, “Google it. Louisiana has a lot of old jails and prisons from their Spanish and French history.” So I did.

 

LQ LA

 

And Oh. My! What I found. If you see where Storm Lake is in the southern central part of the state, see the red star northwest of Destiny? That’s Beauregard Parish.

 

Now I have to digress for a second. I had Jack in this obscure prison/barred cell – I hadn’t really gotten the plot together for this scene yet, and I’d been thinking what if I could have some kind of cool paranormal element to it?

 

After all, the book takes place near the Blood Moon on Halloween, a “Spirit night” when the veil is thin between the worlds and it’s easier to…cross.

 

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Well! Imagine my joy when just northwest of Destiny I found an old jail called the Gothic or Hanging Jail, abandoned for the last thirty years with a rich haunted history. It’s called the Gothic Jail because the architect wanted it to be one of a kind with it gothic architecture, inside and out. Is it creepy looking or what!

 

The bars have a unique ridged edge, the cells are heavily built with not only a heavy barred door but a massive vault like second door. There were no recess areas or yards in which to exercise. The women were housed in cells down the hall from the men but they were only able to hear each other, not touch. The cells were unique in the industry with their own window, lavatory, toilet and shower.  Each prisoner was given a blanket and a thin mattress to cover the metal bed slats.  And get this, if you’re in Beauregard Parish around Halloween you can pay $10 (per victim) and be a part of their Halloween Night. But expect to stand in line. Last year they pulled in 10,000 people!

 

Adjacent to the courthouse, the prisoners were sometimes led straight from their sentencing through an underground tunnel and straight up the spiral stair case of the jail, another of its signature features.

 

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Each floor of cells splits off from the center spiral stairs and you can see from the main stairwell, the thickness of the concrete walls, the heaviness of the cell bars and at the top a beam from which the “hanging sheriff” served up the sentence on two of his prisoners back in 1928. You can see the bar at the top of the spiral stairs in this photo. Imagine having the only way into the cells (or out) being those uneven spiral stairs…

 

The gothic style window (below) is in the upper floor where the trustees were kept.

 

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Now here’s the best part! It’s called the Hanging Jail and is so interesting to ghosters because the ghost of the sheriff or his prisoners have been seen and heard on many occasions at the jail.

 

The picture below was akin to death row, as if any of the cells were easy to escape, this one was meant to be absolutely escape proof with the heavy vault doors. The death cell. The perfect place for my villain to keep Jack.

 

 

I wanted to see this place for myself but it wasn’t open for viewing. Then a month before I finished the book I heard they’d opened it for touring and four of us went down to see it. One of my friends recorded a sound in one of the rooms when she was alone. She has a history with ghosts so I don’t doubt her but I didn’t want to go back and listen for myself. She and her sister want to go back for the sleep-in night. Right!

 

As you can see, It was like magic, the way it all fell together. The proximity to Destiny, the cool features of the jail, its history and the paranormal aspect as well as our timely visit.

 

And that’s where Jack met the Hanging Sheriff…

 

Excerpt:

The figure that materialized in front of Jack was dressed in unrelieved black, from his hat to his boots, a Pinkerton style suit coat over a black button up shirt. He leaned against the heavy metal bars near the chain that supported the metal bed slats and pulled on his scruffy beard. “You ain’t never heard of the Hangin’ Sheriff?”

Jack frowned, No, but perhaps he shouldn’t admit it to this…what was he? “Are you… real?”

The man, who appeared to be in his 50s, though Jack couldn’t be sure, bent over at the waist and slapped his knees with a guffaw. “Real, he asks.” He laughed until tears should have been streaming down his wrinkled cheeks, but weren’t, then he wiped his eyes of the nonexistent tears and shook his head. “What kind of sheriff are you, Lang? Why, I’m dead, son, a ghost. A specter. I like that term better ma’self.”

If Jack had encountered this man¾ghost¾earlier in the year he would’ve called it a hallucination, a mirage, or possibly he might have suspected a reaction to some over-the-counter meds, but these days… hell, a ghost, as surprises went, registered only a one on his Destiny shock-o- meter.

“No, sir. I have to say this is a first. I’m glad to meet you unless you’re here to carry out your specialty.” Jack looked over at the dumbwaiter, the rope that might have been used for hanging his inmates still tied to the bars and draping down into the shaft.

“Whatcha lookin’ at? Cripes, boy. I ain’t gonna hang ya. I’m here to help you escape.”

Jack’s heart thumped hard. “You have a key? I can’t touch –”

“Yeah, yeah. I been watching.” The sheriff scratched his cheek.

Jack’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t sensed him even a little.

His companion laughed again, this time, it was kind of a crazy laugh. “You can’t see me unless I wantcha to. Understand?” He squinted up at Jack, his chin jutting forward. “You’re one of them dragons, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The sir probably wasn’t necessary but Jack figured he’d get further with respect, even well…under these circumstances.

“Then you probably know about Halloween, about the open door and all? Normally, I wait until the 31st to make an appearance, but see, I figured, if I was to wait, you’d be a hung sheriff.” He slapped his thighs again. “He-he-he. Get it?” He pointed to himself, “Hanging sheriff?” then at Jack and winked, “Hung sheriff.”

“So, you can just pop in whenever you want?” Jack asked, ignoring the ghost’s gallows humor.

“Nah, it’s because of that danged moon¾all about the Blood Moon over here, ya know? Makes it easier, lengthens…” His eyebrows crashed down and he rubbed his chin, squinted one eye closed then looked up at the ceiling. Jack followed his gaze but saw only… more concrete. “Lengthens the t…tie¾what do they call it on Facebook?”

“Timeline.” Jack frowned. “You’re on Facebook?”

“No, are you crazy? I’m a ghost, see?” He pushed his hand into Jack’s torso startling him, but he didn’t feel anything. “Weren’t have no way to peck on a phone. It’s handy though. I can read over somebody’s shoulder and stay…uhh…”

“Current?” Jack offered.

“Right, but that moon makes everything amp… stronger and stretches out that timeline, so we can cross early.” He held out his hands by his sides as if to say, ‘And Voila. Here I be.’

Jack shook his head. Why was he conversing with someone who was admittedly… dead? Still, he asked, “How long have you been here?” Maybe if he showed a little interest in the sheriff’s history, which he seemed proud of, it would lock in his inclination to help.

He studied the ghost in black. On the left lapel of his coat hung a six-pointed star. It read Sheriff – Beauregard Parish. Now he remembered. He’d read about the jailor when researching his move from Memphis to Louisiana.

This hellhole was what people called the Gothic jail because of its unique architecture. The designer wanted it to be one of a kind with full lavatory facilities, a window in each cell. Prisoners had been marched straight from the courthouse through the tunnel, given a blanket and a mattress and locked up, there to stay until their time was served. No courtyards or recess here.

He’d seen pictures but none of them captured the depression being locked within the thick walls of the place would engender. Advanced bathroom facilities notwithstanding, the ‘bed’ was mere metal slats and the heavy bars spoke loudly, “Escape is impossible.”

The article mentioned its signature feature, the spiral stairs that started at the tunnel entrance. Jack hadn’t noticed the uniqueness of the cell at first, with its toilet, sink and shower, mostly because they were old and filthy and not plumbed. And at the time, he’d been struggling to breathe.

“Them transients were takin’ up parish resources. Weren’t no reason not to go ahead and hang ’em from that there rafter.” The ‘sheriff’ leaned against the sink, picking at his teeth with a piece of metal and pointed to the iron beam outside Jack’s cell.

Jack knew it probably wasn’t wise, but he was curious. “Why help me escape?” The ghost shook his head as if Jack was stupid. “Why, son, you the same as me — a parish sheriff.”

 

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Blood Moon is available for preorder now at only 99cents in the Moonlight Magic box set. So not only do you get Blood Moon but nineteen other great paranormal stories, over 200,000 words.

 

Buy Links: https://www.romancecollections.com/moonlight-magic

 

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Livia Quinn is a DC native who has been transplanted to Louisiana. She lives, writes and is inspired in her Storm Lake series by the culture and weather in the state. She’s published eleven books, six paranormal and five contemporary. A former mail lady, professional singer, plant manager and current business owner, she has stored up many quirky stories to share with her readers. Sign up for her newsletter to receive the first two books in the Destiny Paramortals series free.

 

Connect with Livia here:

Website: http://liviaquinn.com

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

Twitter    http://twitter.com/liviaquinn

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/liviaquinn

Goodreads http://bit.ly/22VXuev

Amazon Author page http://amzn.to/1T5qmhN

Google+ http://bit.ly/2guNZn9

Instagram http://instagram.com/liviaquinnauthor

Independent Author Network http://bit.ly/2dlAr8L

Livia Quinns Facebook Reader Group http://bit.ly/2gBFQ12

Blog: https://liviaquinnwrites.com/livias-ramblings

* RELAUNCH! * The Vampire of Blackpool by @SpookyMrsGreen #paranormal #ASMSG #books


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*RELAUNCH!* The Vampire of Blackpool by Catherine Green

 

British paranormal romance author Catherine Green has taken a break from her Redcliffe novels series set in Cornwall, and has launched her brand new novel, The Vampire of Blackpool. A contemporary English Gothic story, it tells the tale of vampire Meredith Hanson, her love interest Samantha Morris, and her rival, the vampire hunter Ryan James. The novel is strictly for an adult audience, and Catherine’s vampires do not sparkle!

 

 

The vampire, the witch, and the hunter battle it out in a contemporary Gothic adventure in Northern England.

 

Meredith Hanson lives in Blackpool, the former Victorian holiday hotspot of Northern England. She masquerades as a reclusive author, feeding on the blood of unsuspecting tourists without remorse. Her life takes on new meaning when she meets a young witch in a local pub one evening. Despite Meredith’s cold demeanour, she finds herself oddly fascinated with Samantha Morris, and falls into an accidental relationship with the girl. It is at this time that a vampire hunter arrives in Blackpool. He is tough, he is determined, and his next target is an ancient vampire that has been spotted in the tourist town. He intends to bring her down and destroy her to save the lives of innocent humans. Will he succeed? Or will the experienced vampire seductress be the cause of his undoing?

 

The Vampire of Blackpool is available to order in paperback and eBook formats via Catherine’s website www.catherinegreenauthor.blogspot.com or you can find it in Amazon and other eBook stores.

 

About the Author

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.

 

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/

 

Unorthodox, A Kendra Spark Novel – Book 1 by S. Peters-Davis @spdavis788 #paranormal #suspense


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Title – Unorthodox, A Kendra Spark Novel – Book 1

 

Author – S. Peters-Davis

 

Genre – Paranormal suspense-thriller romance with a dollop of supernatural

 

Publisher  – BWL Publishing Inc.

 

 

Book Blurb –

 

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery romance author and communicator with the dead, is requested to hop on the first flight to D.C.

 

Jenna Powers, FBI criminal analyst and estranged best friend of Kendra, gets ghosticized in a fatal accident before relaying all the details of the FBI killer case.

 

Derek Knight, a dedicated (hot) FBI Special Task Force agent, takes lead on the case.

 

The investigation into the FBI agent killings continues as Kendra, Jenna – yes, even after death – and Derek work together on the case before Director of the Special Task Force Jackson Powers’ number is up. He’s Jenna’s father and the end-game of the killer’s target list.

 

Somehow the elusive killer remains undetected, until Kendra’s unique ability produces results and a final possibility at stopping his killing spree before it’s too late.

 

 

Excerpt  –

Taken from Advanced Review Copy – (Scene – Kendra and Derek, right after Jenna got hit by a car – Location – DC)

 

 

The scent of vanilla coursed through the air again. “Dammit, Sparky! What the hell am I supposed to do dead?” Jenna stood next to me and rendered a big sigh as if air flowed out of her lungs. Her tone sounded laced with anger and maybe even blame, or maybe the blame thing was all my own feeling. “Can you see me?”

 

Of course I saw her from my peripheral, but I didn’t turn to look up at her. My attention moved back to Jenna’s deceased body and then to Derek. His complete focus seemed to be on me. If I actually spoke to Jenna, he would see me talking to empty air, and then, well, that was another whole issue I didn’t want to deal with right now. My immediate goal was to keep my head on straight and not start sobbing like a baby.

 

Derek strode toward me, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Once he reached me his face relaxed a little. He offered his hand and helped me to my feet. My knees were so stiff they barely cooperated.

 

“Are you Jenna’s friend, Kendra?” His striking blue eyes shined with unshed moisture, and his chiseled jawline tensed as he waited.

 

“Yes.” One single word and I nearly gagged on the growing knob in my throat.

 

Jenna sobbed beside me, tearlessly as ghosts didn’t cry real tears. “Gods, Sparky, just give me a signal…something to tell me you can see me. I’ve never been dead before. I have no idea what happens next.”

 

I’d only seen her cry one other time in all the years I’d known her and that was when her dog, Bailey, got hit crossing the road. Jenna had been eight years old and we’d walked home from school together. The dog saw her, got excited, and ran to meet her. It was lucky she hadn’t gotten hit in her rescue attempt. Thinking of it reminded me of today and Jenna’s heroic success at saving the young boy. He probably would never know his heroine had died; the kid never once looked at her.

 

Jenna needed an acknowledgment.

 

Derek clasped my hands; I was sure to console me, so I used it to my advantage and slid against him in an embrace. Jenna stood behind him, her eyes appearing red-rimmed without a stream of tears. I caught her attention over Derek’s shoulder. One wink and the best damn smile I could muster.

 

“You…do see me.” And with that she disappeared.

 

 

Buy Links –

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Unorthodox-Kendra-Sparks-Novel-Book-ebook/dp/B073MZZPVM/

 

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Author Biography –

 

S.Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

 

She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural, or sci-fi novels as DK Davis.

 

Social Media Links –

 

Website – http://suda788.wixsite.com/spetersdavis1

 

Twitter – https://twitter.com/spdavis788

 

FB – https://www.facebook.com/susan.petersdavis

 

BWL Author Page – http://bookswelove.net/authors/peters-davis-s/

 

Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/spetersdavis

 

Believe in Christmas Magic Again – Karibou Magic by Anna Sugg @bakerbooknews #romance


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Title:  Karibou Magic

Author:  Anna Sugg

Genre:  Fantasy Romance Christmas

Publisher:  Canyonland Press

 

Book Blurb:

An old veterinarian brings Christmas magic back into her life with his special reindeer. Will his handsome son shatter that belief?

 

Christmas is magic. At least that’s what Eva Mars Bowman thought until that tragic night. Running from her past, she accepts a job with an old veterinarian in a small town in Wyoming. With Doc’s help and his magical reindeer, she has a reason to believe in Christmas magic once again.

 

Her newly found Christmas magic shatters. Doc’s estranged son, Trebek Nickolas, returns with plans to change all that his father has built, including getting rid of the reindeer.

 

Compared to his father, Trebek is cold-hearted and wants nothing to do with Christmas? Can she convince him that forgiving and loving will bring back the Christmas magic he knew as a child? Will Christmas magic be stripped away from her life again, forever?

 

Giveaway:

Enter to win one of three ebook copies of Karibou Magic by visiting my website and signing up for my newsletter (http://judybakerauthor.com) or join me on my blog (http://judyswriting.blogspot.com).

 

If you already receive my newsletter or have joined my blog, just email me that you’d like to have your name in the hat for a free copy of Karibou Magic.

 

 

Excerpt:

“Frankly, I can’t figure you women out at all.”

 

Mars giggled.

 

Cute giggle. First time he’d heard her giggle. Everything about her was cute, adorable and sexy, even without any sleep and no makeup on, she was a beautiful woman.

 

Several minutes and two pieces of toasts later, he leaned back in his chair, and said, “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“How old would your daughter be now?”

 

He watched her circle her long slim fingers around the mug, staring into the black liquid. Guilt gripped his gut. “I’m sorry, it was a cruel thing to ask.”

 

“No, I don’t mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately…since Doc brought James home.” She stared off in the distance. “Lily would be sixteen next month, close to James’ age.”

 

Reaching over the table, Trebek took her hand and gave her a little comforting squeeze. He didn’t realize what he’d actually done until she looked at their hands.

 

Her shy grin shook his senses. Clearing his throat, he stood, “We better get back to the room.”

 

Strolling toward the elevator, his mind went blank. He punched the elevator button. Mars stepped inside, faced him, and touched his arm.

 

“You know Trebek, I didn’t think I liked you at first.”

 

His bewildered frowned swung to her. “Why?” Then, holding up his hand, he shook his head. “No, don’t answer…I know why.”

 

He grinned at her. “I can’t remember the last time a woman called me a jerk and an idiot in the span of thirty seconds.”

 

Mars shrugged, gritted her teeth, and said, “I did?”

 

“You did. And, you didn’t stop there, you said I was cold-hearted jerk‒”

 

“I did?”

 

“You did.” He chuckled, unable to take his eyes from her full lips.

 

She laughed.

 

The second their eyes linked, a beguiling magic consumed him, helpless to squelch the longing he felt for her. Positive she swayed forward, his arms circled her, closing the space between them.

 

Breath to breath with her, he softly brushed her lips, then gently pressed his lips to hers, pulling her closer. An unexpected chemical reaction ignited within him, demanding a response from her.

 

Gradually she responded, surrendering to his deep passionate kiss, shaking him.

 

Abruptly, he pulled away, alarmed. Quickly, he threw his hand up, nervously scratching the back of his head. What was he doing?

 

The elevator door opened. He waited for her to step out and without looking at her, said, “I have to call my office.” Though he wanted to run, to flee from her presence, he forced his feet to move at a casual pace.

 

Stomping out into the cold December day, he took in a deep breath.

 

What just happened? He made a pass at his dad’s girlfriend…you are an idiot. Guilt enflamed his guts. Why would he ever make a pass at his dad’s girlfriend? His jaws clenched. He wanted her, more than he wanted any woman he’d met since Jean died. What was wrong with him? Mars belonged to his dad.

 

 

Buy Links:  https://www.amazon.com/Karibou-Magic-Anna-Sugg-ebook/dp/B0723GVPHX/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1502062203&sr=8-1&keywords=karibou+magic

 

Judy Baker Anna Sugg

 

Author Biography: 

Judy Baker writing as Anna Sugg is an author of historical western romances/contemporary romance novels, and fantasy romance. She’s been involved in many writing groups including National RWA, Utah RWA, and the Music City Romance writers of America in Nashville, Tennessee. She has presented a beginners writing class during the National RWA, Florida Conference, and taught classes for adult writers with the West Jordan Community Education District. She and author Mary Martinez has presented workshops in Writing Series for conferences.

 

Baker grew up in Tennessee, but has lived much of her life in the west. Moving to Nevada to teach school, she was compelled to write the stories that filled her head. She now lives in Utah with her husband, Brett and three furry kids: Stanley, a Lakeland terrier; Charlie Daniel, an Airedale terrier; Bruce, an eighteen-pound cat.

 

When not writing, she enjoys RVing with her family, stargazing through one of her many telescopes, digging in her wildflower garden, and she’s an avid fan of coffee, tea and the ocean.

 

Social Media Links: 

Website:  http://judybakerauthor.com

Blog:  http://judyswriting.blogspot.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/bakerbooknews

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/judy.baker.9465

 

 

 

A Guardian Falls by @Rtranbooks is #EpicFantasy Filled with Action and Magic! #IAN1 #books


A Guardian Falls

 

Title: A Guardian Falls

Author: R Tran

Genre: Epic Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:

All looks bleak when Mara is forced to return home after her love’s brush with death. She only has one magical artifact and the army seems out of reach. The consequences should she fail or even succeed finally set in and Mara has doubts about everything. There will be a war of blades and magic with Mara at the center, but Mara wonders if she has the strength to survive.

 

Excerpt:

In the dim morning light, Mara heard voices in the distance too faint to understand. Bishop shifted below her, anxious for the coming battle. Mara pulled her cloak tighter against the chill air and damp drizzle as she waited for news of Laran’s army. A few of the horses behind her snorted their dislike of Drake’s swift approach.

 

“It’s just as we thought. Half his troops went south in an attempt to flank us and back us into the mountains, but the remainder are coming head on. It shouldn’t be long now. Is the shield in place?” Drake asked, looking off to the horizon.

 

“It has been since first light. Its constant hum is driving me crazy. Every fiber in my body longs to bring it down,” she informed him.

 

“You’ll be distracted soon enough,” Drake assured her.

 

Mara gave a forced smile. “I only want one man’s life. It’s a shame so many will have to die defending him.”

 

“I’m sure he’s saying the same thing.”

 

“He’s not on the battlefield. He’s locked away in the castle somewhere. I can feel it,” she spat annoyed at his cowardice. She looked to Drake. “How was Kess?”

 

“Worried about you. Don’t worry, you’ll see each other tonight,” Drake promised.

 

Mara looked up when a spell crashed into the shield above. Unsure of what was going on, Bishop sidestepped. Mara calmed him and he didn’t move when another spell crashed into the shield. Flames licked the shield overhead but rolled off like water on oiled canvas.

 

“What are they up to?” Drake asked, looking up as well.

 

“My guess is they’re trying to bring down the shield so they can kill us with magic.”

 

Drake gave her a weary look. He was all too familiar with magic. “Are you sure this will hold?”

 

“No, but it was created by magic far stronger than any they have,” Mara replied as blue lightning crackled over the shield’s surface. “They’re getting closer.”

 

Arrows darkened the sky in the distance. “The battle’s begun,” Drake said menacingly. He drew his sword with a mischievous grin and kicked his horse into a run. “See you tonight,” he called as he rode off. Mara drew a short sword and kicked Bishop into a run. The other men were at his heels. Everyone was eager to begin. The sooner it started, the sooner it would end.

 

Buy Links:

The author is running a special promo on this title for a very limited time! Get your copy today!

US:  https://www.amazon.com/Guardian-Falls-Chronicles-Coranydas-Book-ebook/dp/B072LJV5Z5/ 

 

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Guardian-Falls-Chronicles-Coranydas-Book-ebook/dp/B072LJV5Z5/

 

R Tran

 

Author Biography:

R. Tran is an independent 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. R. Tran 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/

https://m.facebook.com/AGaurdianFalls/

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

email:  rtranbooks.com@outlook.com

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

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

 

 

Meet Luke Roberts from @KryssieFortune’s Submission, Secrets and the Solider #BDSM #Romance #Military


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Today it is my great pleasure to introduce Luke Roberts, alpha hero from Kryssie Fortune’s latest release, Submission, Secrets and the Solider. I convinced him to sit down for an interview and it was eye-opening. I know you’ll enjoy it, too. Take it away, Luke.

 

What is your greatest fear?

Losing Kathryn. She’s my wife and my submissive, but only behind closed doors. Her acceptance and common sense turned my life around. She’s sort of sparky if she thinks anyone’s putting me down for my scars. Honestly, she stunned me the first time she waded in on my side. The maître ‘d in De Marco’s restaurant tried to hide us away at an out of the way table. I’d have accepted it, but not my Kate. What with her threatening to have the owner revoke the restaurant’s lease and threatening him with legal action, he backed down real quick. There’s so much more to her than the shy sub I’d terrified back at the BDSM club. Chemistry sizzled between us that first night, but the night at De Marco’s, she stole my heart.

 

Which living person do you most admire?

Kathryn. Okay, I won’t answer that to every question. Maybe Adam Montgomery because of the things he’s setting in place to help veterans settle back into civilian life. I’ve got a lot of time for Dr. Chris Anders too. He lost part of his leg in Afghanistan, but he refused to let it get him down. He trained as a psychotherapist, and Adam’s brought him in to help vets with PTSD. He certainly helped me come to terms with everything I saw while serving my country.

 

What do you most dislike about your appearance?

Easy. My scars. Some days, I can’t get past them. Kathryn always knows when I’m down, but I know better than to expect sympathy from her. The first time I met, her let my appearance get in the way. I walked off like a coward. The next thing I know, she thumped me in the back and told me to stop wallowing in self-pity. Her version of tough love was just what I needed. I still do really, but don’t go thinking she’s all spit and gristle. She’s kindhearted, beautiful, brave, and caring. And she’s all mine.

 

Which living person do you most despise?

I’m not fond of Candice anymore. I hated her reaction to my scars. When she Dear Johnned me, I thought my life was over. Eventually I discovered she’d been married for years. Her husband wasn’t into BDSM so she used me as her bit on the side. I can’t believe I was too dim to realize it. Despise is a bit strong though.

There’s this guy, Farlaise, who used to own a building company. He terrorized my Kathryn, kidnapped us, and we were lucky to escape with our lives. Him, I find real easy to despise.

 

What is the quality you most like in a man?

I hate when a man’s a bully, especially if his victim is a woman. I don’t hold with it, and I won’t stand by and let it happen.

 

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

Three guesses. Not that you need them. Kathryn’s everything to me. The way she goes out of her way to help people is special. When your back’s to the wall—and believe me, ours was—she’s the woman you want at your side. Everyone adores her, but the way her submissive side only surfaces for me is a delight.

 

When and where were you happiest?

Last Labour day. I sprang surprise after surprise on Kathryn. I’d arranged for her mom to make pirate costumes for the kids she’d coached for the parade. I had her sister design a pirate ship to sit on a float. Jared Armstrong built it, and I restored a beat-up flatbed for it to ride on. Of course, she got me back when she sprang the biggest surprise of the day on me. Better still, the whole town rallied around to make it happen. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since.

 

Where would you most like to live?

Right here in Westhorpe Ridge. It’s a small town with a great heart. No one stares at my scars. I bought the local auto shop so I have a thriving business here, and best of all, it’s Kathryn’s home town. That said, wherever she wants to live is perfect by me.

 

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

After the IED exploded the army sent me to an American military hospital to recuperate. I thought I’d lose my leg.  I was coming to terms with the scars that run from my left eye, down my torso, and down my left leg. Then the woman I thought I’d be with forever arrived, took one look at my scars, and threw up. She left soon after that, but with hindsight, I had a lucky escape.

 

What is your favorite occupation?

Kissing Kathryn. Okay. Except for that. l. I like to work with my hands, and I’m a trained mechanic. Thanks to my time in the army, I can fix just about anything. If I can’t find the parts I need to fix a vehicle, then I’ll set to and make them from scratch.

 

Want to read Luke’s story? Here’s all the details –

 

Title Submission, Secrets, and the Soldier

Author Kryssie Fortune

Genre contemporary romance, ex-military, BDSM Romance

Publisher Loose id

 

Book Blurb

Luke Roberts, a former army mechanic, has a new sub. She’s shy and inexperienced, but willing. As he teaches her about sensation play, she fears he’ll really hurt her and screams her safewords at him. Her reaction causes Luke to have a flashback. Although he’s clawing his way back to normal, he suffers from PTSD. Determined to get well, he contacts a PTSD specialist in Westhorpe Ridge.

Kathryn Johnson has visited a BDSM club three times. When she hooks up with Luke Roberts, he unintentionally terrifies her. She swears off spankings and goes home to Westhorpe Ridge. The last person she expects to see there is Luke Roberts.

Circumstances force them to share an apartment. Can Luke protect her when danger threatens? Or is she just a temporary sub in residence?

 

 

Excerpt

Luke loved how Kathryn didn’t back down from him when things got tough. She’d even talked him down from a flashback. Grinning, he decided to lighten the mood. Tossing Kathryn over his shoulder, he strode toward the rock pools. He patted her butt, then spanked it once. “Your favorite Dom, huh? I like that.”

 

Hung head down, she beat on his back and kicked her legs in token protest but could practically feel the way her gaze fixed on his ass. Rather than beat on it, she gave it a squeeze. He repaid her with a gentle swat of his hand on her bikini bottoms. “Behave, or I’ll drape you over a rock and spank you right here, no matter what the sheriff said.”

 

Spine soldier straight, he marched to the pool where he’d caught the crab earlier. Letting her slide down his body, he waited until her bare feet touched the sand before grabbing her around the waist and holding her over the water. “I wonder if crabs like nibbling toes?”

 

She shrieked and drew her knees up to her chest. “They don’t. Really, truly, they prefer shellfish to toes.”

 

Laughing, he lowered her into the shallow pool, held her until she found her balance, and hastily backed off. He didn’t trust the mischievous grin on her face.

 

Kathryn took a step back, bent, and scooped armfuls of water toward him, soaking his T-shirt and making it cling to his pecs. Judging by her smile, she liked that. He leaped in beside her, deliberately splashing her as he landed. “This means war.”

 

They spent fifteen minutes laughing and soaking each other.

 

Finally, Kathryn held her hands up before her. “I’m done. You win. I stuck a couple of towels in my backpack. Let’s dry off and head home. I need a shower if we’re hitting Steve’s Bar tonight.”

 

He lifted her again. “Kick your feet in the water to rinse the sand off. I’ll carry you back to our base. Is there any of that lemonade left?”

 

He’d never seen anything as beautiful as the smile that lit up her face as she poured a cold drink from the flask. In military speak, this woman was PFA—pretty freaking awesome—and he’d do whatever it took to make her proud.

 

Once they’d dried off and finished their drinks, they packed up and strolled back toward the town. When she linked her fingers through his, his heart beat faster, warming his blood and melting the ice around his emotions. Normally, he dropped a portcullis between himself and anyone who tried to befriend him. His layers of defenses ensured he didn’t get hurt again, but his pain felt like a primed hand grenade ready to explode inside him. For the first time since the IED maimed him, he wanted to be whole.

 

Something about Kathryn crashed through his defenses. Her smile, perhaps. Tonight, he’d take her to Steve’s Bar and socialize with former soldiers who wouldn’t judge him. It surprised him how much he looked forward to it.

 

Best of all, Kathryn had told him she loved to dance, and according to Adam, the bar played rockabilly music. When Luke had been in his teens, his mom had taught him some moves. He hoped to surprise Kathryn on the dance floor—and maybe surprise her again when they came home after.

 

 

Buy Links

Loose id

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Kobo

 

Kryssie Fortune

 

Author Biography

Kryssie is never seen without her kindle. She reads everything and anything she can get her hands on. When she discovered hot, sexy reads, she felt like she’d found her home. The only books she hates are the ones that end with a cliff hanger or have unhappy endings.

 

Kryssie tries to set her stories in places she’s explored. Hopefully, it adds color to her writing. Anything can spark a story idea. Sometimes she takes liberties though. The North Yorkshire town of Whitby is one of her favorite places. To keep the details of her imaginary town, Westhorpe Ridge consistent, she mentally shunted Whitby over the Atlantic and renamed it Westhorpe Ridge.

 

When not writing, Kryssie loves to walk on the beach of home town, Bridlington, or potter in her garden. Popping down to London to see her family is her favorite thing to do.

 

Kryssie currently has thirteen books on general release along with a boxed e-book of the first three Westhorpe Ridge stories. All her stories are M/ F or M/M/F. All are edited by publishing houses in either the UK or the USA. While her stories sizzle with sex, plot comes before bed. Life’s always an adventure going on in Kryssie’s world.

 

Social Media Links

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

Website

Or you can email her direct on Kryssie.Fortune@aim.com

Get Swept Away – The Highlander’s English Woman by USA Today Bestseller @RuthACasie #Romance


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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.

 

Excerpt:

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.

 

“Richard?”

 

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

 

Ruth A Casie close

 

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

 

The Fountain of Youth by @Steveshearbooks Spotlight + #MidwestBookReview #FridayReads


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Title: The Fountain of Youth

Author: Steve Shear

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Alzheimer’s, Fiction

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

Book Blurb:

A love affair, a teenager in deadly trouble, a possible Nazi in hiding, and a battle to escape dementia—make for high drama and unpredictable twists at the Fountain!

 

Two generations of dementia are enough!” Robert Glickman declares in his quest to die with dignity and the likelihood he will be next. To that end he uses his grandson’s sixth grade quiz book, a locked away metal box, and a secret weapon that eventually comes back to haunt him.

 

In the meantime, he is embroiled in the lives of many other residents including his neurotic sister Essie who plots to steal his secret weapon for herself; Beautiful Christina Abernathy, a retired psychotherapist, he instantly falls in love with; Hester, a young server at the Fountain who suffers from progressive mutism resulting from a horrific incident in childhood; Boyle, a man of mystery with a questionable past for good or evil (Glickman isn’t sure which); Boyle’s grandson, Santini, a troubled young man caught between the dope dealers he runs with and the FBI wanting to use him; and a runaway girl who reminds Glickman of someone in his past.

 

Will Glickman and Essie beat dementia? Can he win over Christina? And what about Hester, Boyle, and Boyle’s grandson, and the runaway girl?

 

Midwest Book Review:

Review of The Fountain of Youth by Steve Shear

for the October 2017 issue of Midwest Book Review

by D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer

 

It’s rare that romance novels include more than surface passions, and even less common that they embrace issues of dementia, moral and ethical questions, medical conundrums, or the struggles of Alzheimer’s patients. Mix all these issues with love and you have a strange blend, indeed.

 

But one of the special features of The Fountain of Youth lies in its ability to deftly weave all these seemingly-disparate threads into a unified, precise, memorable story line, making it a top recommendation for not just romance readers, but anyone interested in issues of aging, changed capabilities, and the impact a small thing (such as quiz book) can have in one’s life.

 

In this case, narrator Robert Glickman is determined to defy a family history of dementia and his seemingly-inevitable decline by using a quiz book to test his facilities so he can do something about any decline before it really takes hold. In the meantime, he also lives life in Youth Fountain Senior Living Facility (termed “The Fountain of Youth” by its residents – an aptly named old folks’ home, where he has an apartment), holds an infatuation with a retired therapist, faces a neurotic and mentally declining sister, confronts a possible hiding Nazi, and interacts with a host of characters who each struggle with their own uncertain lives.

 

The characters who inhabit The Fountain of Youth are somewhat reminiscent to those in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, minus much of the insanity. They are quirky, obstinate, sometimes defiant personalities who have their own perspectives of their pasts, presents and futures; yet are somewhat to fully cognizant of the fact that the Fountain offers anything but youth or longevity – only a relatively safe haven at the end of the long road of life.

 

As events and lives unfold, the unexpected happens: Robert’s gruff, observational voice becomes a compelling chronicler of the process of facing not only imminent mortality, but the decline of one’s connections to life itself. What opens as and seems like an observational piece about an increasingly limited world and abilities becomes a special window into the hearts, minds, and ethical issues facing the aging and those around them at the end of life.

 

Who has power and control over one’s life? What happens when circumstance limits, then takes away, not only abilities, but personalities? The psychological depth belays any possible description of The Fountain of Youth as a romance novel. While many a reader may pick up the story for this element, most will be delightfully surprised at the depth offered by the evolving story, the quirky and fun personalities revealed behind the closed doors of an elderly facility, and especially the story’s important message about the right to live – and die – on one’s own terms.

 

What begins as a seeming romance or institutional probe becomes something much more: a compelling, engrossing story fueled by the passions, perspectives, and worries of Robert as he seeks to take back power in his world, keep his promises, and exert control over his own destiny and the quandaries life and death poses. It’s very highly recommended for audiences seeking depth and insights from fictional stories.

 

 

Excerpt:

My quiz book, all three hundred pages, is older than my stay at the Fountain. It belonged to my grandson, Peter, my daughter Bonnie’s oldest. Peter and I spent many evenings in his room reading the questions and seeing who could come up with the answers first. Often I won. Sometime he did. I clearly had the advantage of age and education. Peter had the advantage of looking up the answers ahead of time so I guess we were even. When the decision was made for me to move to the Fountain, not unanimously I might add, Peter insisted I take the quiz book with me so we would have it when he visited. By the time I settled in he decided he was too old for the book. I often wonder whether that was so, or was it possibly because he couldn’t look up the answers ahead of time. Either way, whenever I open the book I think of Peter and smile. And then smile again because I know its real purpose.

 

By the time I retrieved it from the multicolored vase and returned to my apartment, I had totally forgotten about Pomerantz even though I had been asked by Ruth at the front desk to speak at his memorial service, and for her I would do anything. So, I spent several grueling days writing and memorizing the speech I planned to give. It was sitting on the kitchen table, although I hadn’t noticed it when I walked in. I normally don’t forget such things. Maybe I was just bothered by the fact that I mixed up the East and South Halls. Besides, he wasn’t my best friend. He was a Republican. He voted for George Bush twice. I’m sure Ruth thought we were best buddies because I joined his fight against the Vatican’s refusal to take Mrs. Pomerantz off life support. She took the trip to Hades on Lower Level 2 a year or so after she and Pomerantz arrived at the Fountain. Such a shame and such a surprise. She was a spry little woman with the intellect of a giant. First in bridge, always, and first in the weekly trivial pursuit night. I’m sure she didn’t study the answers ahead of time … but who knows.  From one day to the next she found herself on the River Styx without ever stopping at Lower Level One. Three months later she was on life support without a ‘valid’ living will, at least according to church officials at Christ-the-King Care Group. That brought Pomerantz and me together, at least for a while. There’s nothing like a good fight for what one believes in to bring people together.

 

When I first met him, Harry, he was racing down the hall past my front door in his supped up motorized wheelchair like James Dean and the hoodlums in Rebel without a Cause. As I stepped into the hall we practically collided head on. Fortunately I jumped back just in time, except for my big toe which throbs to this day.

 

“Christ!” he shouted, “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

 

“Who in the hell are you,” I barked back, trying to fight off the pain in my lowest extremity by jumping up and down on my left foot like a fucking clown. “Dr. HMP MD?” I read aloud off the New York license plate wired to the back of his lethal weapon and laughed. “Well Dr. HMP Master Dick, or whatever MD stands for, just remember you’re sharing this road with the regular folks who don’t have vanity plates plastered all over their stock cars.”

 

That was a number of years ago and only the beginning of our bipolar affiliation. It went uphill and downhill from there.

 

About the time I took the puzzle book out from under my shirt, the phone rang. “Robert, where are you?” a voice at the other end hollered. I looked around.

 

“In my apartment,” I hollered back, recognizing Goldfarb’s soprano voice. He should have been a woman, I always thought, but he would have been an uglier old woman than old man. Imagine Karl Malden in The Streets of San Francisco with long hair and Tiny Tim’s voice.

 

“Well, we started without you but the Rabbi is now calling up all the speakers.”

 

“All the …” Oh, God! I looked at my speech on the table. “Okay. Don’t bury him without me.”

 

“What?” I heard him say as I hung up and grabbed my speech.

 

For a guy who thought he had lost his puzzle book and totally forgot about the memorial service, I did a pretty good job and only looked at my speech a couple of times. I told everyone how I collided with Harry that first day we met and became best friends even though he was a Republican. I lied about being best friends. Otherwise I would have had to explain why I was at the podium we borrowed from Rufus. And to be honest we were best friends during the time we fought to get Harriet off life support.

 

She wound up in the hospital with pneumonia which clearly wasn’t a good thing since she had already suffered from emphysema and had to drag an oxygen tank wherever she went. It was well past 10 o’clock one evening when I heard a knock at the door causing me to jump from my covers. I raced for the door and saw an eyeball through the peephole.

 

“Don’t slip on the newspaper,” I yelled.

 

He ignored my humor. “It’s Pomerantz. Can I talk to you Glickman?

 

I rushed for my robe and opened the door. By the time I tied it across my waist he had already made himself comfortable at the kitchen table. Surely he wasn’t there to argue about the election; was he? I made it clear his politics gave me indigestion and wanted no more to do with it than jalapeño cream cheese on a garlic bagel. At the time I didn’t know Harriet was in the hospital with pneumonia. Before learning why he was there, I offered to make us a cup of tea and he accepted.

 

“I’ve been told that you know how to make a living will?”

 

“Living will?”

 

“Brownsher next door said you were the expert.”

 

“You don’t have one?”

 

“No. But it’s not for me. It’s for my Harriet.” It figures, I thought. What do you expect from a Republican?

 

“Why all of a sudden?”

 

“She’s in the hospital with pneumonia.”

 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” I said, then reminded him I was not a lawyer but I did have some experience with living wills, although I didn’t mention why and he didn’t ask. I started for my computer and he jumped up to follow me. ….

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Fountain-Youth-Steve-Shear-ebook/dp/B06XXN8Q36

 

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/Fountain-Youth-Steve-Shear-ebook/dp/B06XXN8Q36

 

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fountain-Youth-Steve-Shear-ebook/dp/B06XXN8Q36

 

Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-fountain-of-youth-steve-shear/1126084022?ean=2940157477806

 

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/the-fountain-of-youth-10

 

Google Play https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Steve_Shear_The_Fountain_of_Youth?id=U2TODgAAQBAJ&PAffiliateId=1100lLzi

 

Bookstrand http://www.bookstrand.com/the-fountain-of-youth-0

 

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35097928-the-fountain-of-youth

 

SS photo

 

Author Biography:

The Trials of Adrian Wheeler was Steve’s first published novel (L&L Dreamspell, 2011). It was awarded runner-up in the San Francisco Book Festival 2015. He is happy to say that Adrian has been optioned as a movie by EVW Entertainment (producer of the movie Break the Stage), and the screenplay has been written by Erik Wolter and Steve. EVWE is now looking for partners to produce the movie. Erik and Steve have collaborated on a sequel to the screenplay.

 

The Wild Rose Press published The Fountain of Youth, Steve’s second published novel, in May of 2017. It has received exceptional reviews, some of which appear on Amazon and Goodreads.

 

He and his wife, Susan, collaborated on The State vs. Max Cooper and The Steele Deal (published by ArtAge Publications), courtroom plays in which the audience serves as the jury. Both are being produced around the country.

 

In addition, Steve has four novels that have recently been completed: The First Coming, An Eye for an Eye, and The Click. He has written screenplays on the first two and is presently collaborating with Erik Wolter on a screenplay based on The Click.

 

Steve has been writing poetry for over fifteen years (some of which has been published) and is also a portrait and figure artist and sculptor, having been represented by a number of galleries in Denver and Boulder, Colorado. He is presently represented by the Delta Gallery in Brentwood, California and on line by Vango Art. His work can be seen at his website, www.steveshear.net.

 

Social Media Links:

Website http://www.steveshear.net/

Twitter @Steveshearbooks

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/steve.shear.967

LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/steve-shear-80a03727/

 

 

Dr. D and the Dad by @CharJGordon is a Delightful Mature #Romance! #womensfiction


dd-cvr-are

 

Title Dr. D and the Dad

Author Charmaine Gordon

Genre Contemporary Romance, Mature Romance

Publisher Vanilla Heart Publishing

 

Book Blurb

A trip over a mound of sand on the beach begins a journey for Diane O’Rourke and Tony Flannigan. She’s a pediatrician, a bit over weight; he has a foster care home with three children under his sheltering wing… and a dark secret. Can they overcome the past and make the future work for them? They might just find the initial trip was well worth it.

 

Book 6 in the series, The Beginning… Not the End

 

Excerpt

When I’d ventured off my veranda onto the sand not too long ago and trudged toward the secluded area where boulders formed a natural barrier, the tide was out. I rolled my terry cloth cover-up into a makeshift pillow and lowered myself to the towel. Big sunglasses covered green eyes and part of full cheeks, a floppy straw hat shaded my strawberry blond curly hair, my best feature, Mom used to say when she wasn’t nagging me about going on a diet. After lathering with sunscreen, at last I was ready to ponder my non-existent personal life and chart a different course for the future. I’d planned to contemplate my navel but the double D cups got in the way, no navel in sight.

 
Why bother going out in the sun; spend money on yet another swim suit guaranteed to make you look slimmer when it all came down to choices like Chocolate or tofu?  Fifty five, chubby, smart enough to become a doctor, to have a paid-up house on the beach, a. . .

 
Pain as all the air whooshed out of me when something fell across my body and I couldn’t breathe. “Did I hurt you? cause I was running and something moved
and well I didn’t realize someone was under the sand.”

 
“Oh,” I moaned and tried to get up and the sand held me down and so did he.  I opened my eyes and through the sunglasses, saw Antonio Banderas, not really the actor but he sure looked like him.

 

 

Buy Links

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Dr-Dad-Beginning-Not-Book-ebook/dp/B00J6PNWB4

Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dr-d-and-the-dad-charmaine-gordon/1118949666

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dr-d-and-the-dad

iTunes https://itunes.apple.com/mt/book/dr-d-and-the-dad/id844585666?mt=11

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/421115

 

Charmaine Headshot for Author Central

 

Author Biography

Charmaine Gordon writes books about women who Survive and Thrive. Her motto is take one step and then another to leave your past behind and begin again. Six books and several short stories in three years, she’s always at work on the next story. The books include To Be Continued, Starting Over, Now What?, Reconstructing Charlie, Sin of Omission and The Catch, and her series of Mature Romances, The Beginning…Not the End. “I didn’t realize at the time while working as an actor in NYC, I’d become a sponge soaking up dialogue, setting, and stage directions. I learned many tools of writing during the years watching directors like Mike Nichols and actors including Harrison Ford, Anthony Hopkins, and Billy Crystal. And would you believe, I was Geraldine Ferraro’s stand– in leg model, my first job giving me entrée into all the Unions needed to work. When the sweet time ended, I began another career and creative juices flowed.”

 

You can reach Charmaine at http://authorCharmaineGordon.wordpress.com  And on her FB page http://www.facebook.com/charmaine.gordon And on Twitter https://twitter.com/CharJGordon

 

 

#99Cents Deal Alert — Merit Badge Murder by @LeslieLangtry #cozymystery #mystery #99c


Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000030_00040]

 

Title  MERIT BADGE MURDER

Author   Leslie Langtry

Genre  Cozy Comedy

Publisher Gemma Halliday Publishing

 

Book Blurb 

 

It’s not every day you find Al Qaeda’s number four operative dead in a Girl Scout camp in Iowa.

 

When CIA agent Merry Wrath is “accidentally” outed, she’s forced her into early retirement, changes her appearance, and moves where no one will ever find her—Iowa. Instead of black bag drops in Bangkok, she now spends her time leading a young Girl Scout troop. But Merry’s new simple life turns not-so-simple when an enemy agent shows up dead at scout camp. Suddenly Merry is forced to deal with her former life in order to preserve her future one.

It doesn’t help matters that the CIA sends in her former, sexy handler to investigate…or that the hot new neighbor across the street turns out to be the local detective in charge of her case. And when Merry is forced to take on a roommate in the voluptuous form of a turned KGB agent/bimbo, things become trickier than wet work in Waukegan or cookie sales in the spring. Nothing in the CIA or Girl Scouts’ training manuals has prepared her for what comes next…

 

 

Excerpt  

 

It’s not every day you find Al Qaeda’s number four operative dead in a Girl Scout camp in Iowa.

 

The body was twisted unnaturally in the spider web element of the course that consisted of a large wood frame crisscrossed with elastic bungee cords.  Sadly, it was my troop’s favorite thing to do at camp. Now I had to disappoint them. I hated disappointing them.

 

A man hung there, in what had been his twenties, of Middle Eastern descent. The neck was clearly broken before he was placed in the ropes at Camp Singing Bird. He looked surprised to find himself here.  I’m sure the irony would be lost on him that in death, he really was surrounded by seventy-two virgins. Did it matter that they were grade schoolers, I wondered? Maybe that was just splitting hairs.

 

I would’ve been surprised too, had I not been through this kind of thing before. But I’d seen this stuff in Syria and Uzbekistan – not in the placid, wooded hills of eastern Iowa.

 

And my second-grade troop was due at any minute. I was pretty sure I couldn’t pass this off as something adorable – like I had with the bats in Tinder Trails Cabin or the mice in the latrines. Troop Leader’s Helpful Hint #1 – if your Girl Scouts freak out upon meeting a bat/mouse/wolf spider for the first time – tell them it’s just a baby bat/mouse/wolf spider. Little girls are suckers for that and soon what was scary is ‘adorbs!’ – whatever that means.

 

I bent to take his pulse, just to make sure. Yup. He was dead. His glassy eyes were opened wide and his mouth hung open.  Dammit. I need this like I needed wet work in the slums of Rio.

 

The sounds of giggles and singing came from the trees just around the corner. Any minute the fourteen, seven and eight year old girls who called me their leader would appear. I was pretty sure I couldn’t convince them that this dead terrorist was a cute, dead baby terrorist. I pulled the parachute I was going to use for games later out of my backpack and threw it over the spider web.

 

“Mrs. Wrath!” The girls squealed in unison before tackling me in a sticky, group hug. Kelly, my co-leader, smirked at me. She could get away with smirking at me because she’s known me since we were six-year old scouts.

 

“Girls,” I gently pushed them away. “How many times do I need to tell you – it’s Ms. Wrath.  I’m not married.” Of course, I knew the answer to this question. Ad infinitum. Meaning, they’d always call me Mrs.  Any woman over the age of twenty-one in Iowa was ‘Mrs.’ Clearly it was me who didn’t get it.

 

“Mrs. Wrath?” The third Katelynn asked. Or was it the Kaitlin the Fourth? They all looked the same to me. And each one of them spelled their name a completely different way. Spy work had not prepared me for that.

 

“It’s Ms. Wrath, Katelynn.” I said with a smile. Leader Helpful Hint #2 – when talking to  little girls, always smile. They cry if you don’t. I’m not kidding. You don’t know real terror until you’ve stared at the watery eyes and rubbery bottom lip of a cute kid.

 

The second grader looked confused for a moment, which was to be expected. “Okay. Mrs. Wrath?” She asked again.

 

I sighed. “Yes, Katelynn?”

 

“Why is the parachute over the spider web? And why is it all lumpy?”

 

Kelly squinted at the parachute, eyebrows knit together. She’d probably figure it out, being a nurse and all.

 

“The spider web is out of commission, girls.” I announced, stepping between them and the dead man.

 

A chorus of complaints came from the little girls and I held up my right hand in the universal Girl Scout symbol for silence. They quieted down immediately. I once again, really wished I’d known about this trick when I was surrounded by Farc rebels in Colombia.

 

“Head on over to the Peanut Butter Pass – I think you’re old enough for that one now.” I said in a nice save worthy of someone of my caliber.

 

“YAY!” The girls exploded in shrieks and raced off to that element, leaving me in the dust.

 

Kelly narrowed her eyes. “They aren’t old enough for the Peanut Butter Pass.”

 

“You’d better get after them before they start scaling the rope, then. I’ll be there in a minute.” I shoved her in the direction of the squealing herd before she could respond. “We can’t leave them alone for a minute, you know.”

 

Kelly gave me a weird look, but took off after the troop. I turned back to the dead man in the parachute. It kind of looked like he was cocooned in the web – as if a giant spider had caught him, poisoned and wrapped him to save for later. If only that was what had really happened.

 

With a heavy sigh, I took out my cell phone to call the ranger. This was going to suck. You think the CIA is bad with paperwork? Langley has NOTHING on the Girl Scouts of America when it comes to filling out forms and accident reports in triplicate. Nothing.

 

text-2055660_1280

 

Buy Links

Amazon – http://amzn.to/2reViB1

 

B&N – http://bit.ly/2spy8fv

 

iBooks – http://apple.co/1RwzqpL

 

Kobo – http://bit.ly/2sZoe1h

 

Google Play – http://bit.ly/1QBFbGu

 

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 www.leslielangtry.com .

 

Social Media Links

https://www.facebook.com/LeslieLangtry/

https://twitter.com/LeslieLangtry

 

 

Love and Longing in the Bright Lights of London — Swan Song by @BookishLotte #YA #books


Swan Song cover art

 

Title

Swan Song

 

Author

Charlotte Wilson

 

Genre

Young Adult

 

 

Book Blurb

LOVE AND LONGING IN THE BRIGHT LIGHTS OF LONDON

 

When iconic ballerina Beatrice Duvall died, a nation mourned – and a legacy was born. Sixteen years later, her daughter Ava comes to London to take part in a high-profile tribute to Beatrice, and to learn about the mother she never knew.

 

There’s just one snag: the tribute is a ballet, Swan Lake. Which is infinitely painful for Ava, because she can’t dance. Won’t dance. Not since she quit the Royal Ballet School last year and walked away from everything that defined her.

 

But this is London, colourful and crazy, and with actor Seb at her side, there’s so much to discover. Like Theatreland razzmatazz and rooftop picnics and flamingo parties. And a whole load of truths Ava never knew about her mother – and herself.

 

When the time comes to take the stage, will Ava step out of the shadow cast by her mother’s pedestal? And who will be waiting for her there, in the bright lights?

 

A coming-of-age novel about family and first love, in the city of hopes and dreams.

 

Excerpt

The Tube from Turnham Green is quiet, until we reach Earl’s Court, where it starts filling up. By the time we get to Victoria I’m in a scrum spilling out onto the platform. I find the Victoria Line platform and shoe-horn myself into a carriage; Seb would be proud of my elbow action.

 

At Oxford Circus I’m carried by a sea of shoppers up the escalators, across the foyer and up some steps to the street level. I’ve managed to come out the right exit, opposite the flagship Topshop. The massive store calls to me. Now that’s where to buy a dress for the tribute. Simple and trendy. I dread to think what Thisbe’s wardrobe department contact is going to make me. Something showbiz, I guess: long and loud and sparkly. Ugh.

 

But I don’t want to offend Thisbe, who’s called in a favour, apparently, to get me a dress sewn so quickly. So, with a sigh, I turn my back on Topshop and trudge down Argyll Street. When I see the Palladium, like a classical temple with massive columns, my mood lifts. At least I’m getting to visit one of London’s most historic theatres, where anyone who’s anyone has performed over the years, from Elvis Presley to Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra to Ella Fitzgerald, Elton to Adele – even The Muppets have taken to this stage. I wonder: will I get to stand on the stage?

 

Nope, is the answer. I don’t even see the auditorium. A security guard shows me from the foyer down into the underbelly of the theatre, to a small, windowless room made even smaller by its many contents: two dressmaker’s dummies, a hanging rail of costumes, shelves of fabric and haberdashery, and a desk for the sewing machine. I barely have time to make a mental comparison of this room and the wardrobe department at the Royal Opera House – in a big room overlooking the Piazza and flooded with light – before a girl springs out from behind one of the dummies and hugs me.

 

Hugs me?

 

Thankfully, it’s brief. She steps back and beams. I smile back automatically, and in a second I take her in: round, rosy face, electric-blue eyes, dark wavy hair. She’s a little older than me, maybe twenty, and wearing stylish jeans and a really unusual shirt covered with little embroidered seahorses.

 

“You’re Cara Cavendish?” I say, daring to hope that maybe my dress won’t end up being horrendously glitzy after all.

 

“The one and only,” she says cheerfully. “And you’re Ava-who-needs-a-dress. Thisbe explained. Sit, sit…” She pulls out a little stool from under the desk and I perch on it.

 

Cara walks around me in a circle, eying me up and down. “Easy-peasy,” she declares. “Dancers’ forms are so simple to dress.”

 

“Oh,” I say. “I’m not a dancer.”

 

She completes her circuit and leans on the desk, looking curiously at me. “But you’re Beatrice Duvall’s daughter,” she says.

 

The name gives me a jolt, but I manage to reply evenly: “That doesn’t make me a dancer.”

 

“’Course not,” says Cara. “I mean, my mum was an architect, and look at me! But I heard you were training to be a dancer like your mother. With the Royal Ballet.”

 

“I was. I… stopped.”

 

“Oh. Why was that then?”

 

I frown at Cara. She smiles back at me.

 

“Did Thisbe put you up to this?” I ask.

 

“Up to what?”

 

“All the questions.”

 

“Oh, no. That’s just me. My brother’s always telling me I’m blunt, because I don’t go in for all that evasive British crap – ignoring the elephant in the room. Better to lay it all out there and say, ‘My mum’s dead, and it sucks.’ You know?”

 

“Not really,” I reply honestly. I’ve never said those words in my life.

 

Cara nods like I’ve said something profound. Then, to my relief, she claps her hands and says, “Let’s talk dresses.”

 

After a quick-fire round of questions designed to establish my style, Cara hands me a scrapbook in which she’s pasted cuttings, photos and drawings of formal dresses, and she talks me through cuts, lengths, necks, sleeves and fabrics. Somewhere around the midi dress page I begin to come undone.

 

“What is it?” she says.

 

“Nothing,” I say.

 

“Something,” she says. “You look like you’re about to have a panic attack. Is it claustrophobia? This room is a little dinky.”

 

“It’s not that. It’s…”

 

She waits expectantly. I gesture to the scrapbook.

 

“It’s just all a bit real, suddenly, looking at these dresses. I mean, I’ve got to wear one and stand on a stage at the Royal Opera House in front of people. Lots of people.”

 

“Ah,” she says. “Yeah, I’d be a wreck doing that. But you’ve performed on stage before, right?”

 

“Sure. Plenty of times. But this isn’t a performance. I have to be myself. I mean…”

 

“You mean you have to be your mother’s daughter. And your mother was the legendary Beatrice Duvall.”

 

Startled, I nod. She gets it. I don’t even know this girl, but she gets it.

 

“So,” Cara says, plucking the scrapbook off my lap and leafing through the pages, “what you need, besides the strength to get on that stage, is a really kick-ass dress. A dress that makes you feel tall and powerful and goddam beautiful, like nothing can touch you while you’re wearing it. Ah-ha. Here. This one. What do you think?”

 

The dress illustration jumps right off the page. It’s bold, it’s simple, it’s glamorous, it shouts “designer”: a strapless bodice with criss-crossing satin ribbons and a flowing skirt with chiffon overskirt ending just on the knee.

 

“Wow,” I say. “You can make that? In time?”

 

She grins. “Hell yeah.”

 

“And you think I can pull that off?”

 

Her grin widens. “Hell yeah.”

 

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.com/Swan-Song-Charlotte-Wilson-ebook/dp/B075D4XH1V/

 

Charlotte Wilson

 

Author Biography

Once upon a time a little girl told her grandmother that when she grew up she wanted to be a writer. Or a lollipop lady. Or a fairy princess. ‘Write, Charlotte,’ her grandmother advised. So that’s what she did.

Thirty-odd years later, Charlotte writes the kind of books she loves to read: romances. She lives in a village of Greater Manchester with her husband and two children, and when she’s not reading or writing, you’ll find her walking someplace green, baking up a storm or embarking on a DIY project. She recently achieved a lifetime ambition of creating a home library for her ever-increasing collection of books. She pretends not to notice that the shelves are rather wonky.

 

Social Media Links

Website: http://bookishcharlotte.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BookishLotte

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15932269.Charlotte_Wilson

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Charlotte-Wilson/e/B00TDH4XLS/

 

 

Ridge (Men of Honor, Book 1) by @LiviaQuinn #romance #militaryromance #IARTG


Ridge_MOH

 

The sacrifice of our service men and women humbles me. When I began researching this book I had no idea what to expect. I’d read about the twenty-two suicides a day among veterans and long waits for medical care but wondered if these reports might be exaggerated. Maybe there’d been progress. Unfortunately, the problems our troops and their families face are massive and there’s been little forward progress in the suicide rates which are probably under-reported.

 

 

I’m sure you wish you could do something to help. My hero, Ridge represents all of us, in his desire to make a difference in the lives of veterans after losing the person closest to him, his brother. Ridge is a bit stuck in this “save the world” mode and it takes a special woman to shake him up and find his own happiness.

 

 

The Men of Honor series focuses on men and women in uniform who serve in the military, law enforcement or as first responders. They put service to others above themselves. The series has been REBRANDED to reflect the FOCUS of the men and women in uniform who serve their country and communities. Ridge was previously published as Her First Knight.

 

 

Ridge is book 1 in the Men of Honor series.

 

 

He’d sacrifice all for his mission – better care for veterans. Did that include love?

 

 

Ridge Romano is an Army Ranger, has a PhD in Medbionics and is CEO of two multi-billion dollar companies. After his brother, a wounded vet, commits suicide due to a lack of prompt medical care, Ridge meets with Congress to propose a new veterans’ care consortium that will revolutionize veterans’ services. All that’s left is the big vote.

 

 

So, with such an important mission, how did he wind up on this strip bingo stage in front of a hundred women yelling, “Tucker. Take it off!” If he can just slink away before he’s recognized.

 

 

Buffy Calloway was famous on the runways of Paris, but now she’s looking for one special man to be the face of her studio. At a romance convention, she discovers Tucker, a late arrival with just the je ne sais quoi that will make her agency a success.

 

 

The Calloways have a sixth sense when it comes to that special someone, and Buffy knows Ridge is ‘the one’. There’s just one problem – he rejects the idea of himself as a cover model and Buffy can’t argue with such a noble cause. She’ll have to enlist the entire romance community to make her plan work. But could this be the first time a Calloway was wrong?

 

 

Excerpt:

 

Ridge felt like he was back in the Army, furtively tracking toward the room where he heard alternating bouts of laughter and then clapping. A woman with a deep smoky voice called out, “Her Lady Rogue by Claranne Braxton.”

 

He heard two or three feminine voices shout, “I’ve got it,” and the discouraged grumble of another, “Shoot, I got all losers.”

 

The smoky voice again called out, “Billionaire Sex Toy.” Ridge’s eyebrows rose and three voices sang out, “Got him,” and one cried, “Bingo!”

 

Ridge edged up behind two women hanging on the open door watching the action. He was taller than anyone there and when he turned his head toward the stage, he relied solely on experience and training to keep from gawking. The two men he’d shared the workout room with that morning stood on the stage, neither of them fully dressed. One was in bare feet but still had his slacks and belt on along with a t-shirt and dress shirt.

 

“Eric,” said Smoky Voice, who Ridge could see was a lushly built young woman in a black dress. She sat at a table near the stage, removed a chip from the bowl and said, “Please remove your tie.” Eric muffed for the crowd, twisting his hips and undoing the tie like one of those famous stripper performers. He dragged it out as the women hooted and clapped. Moving the tie back and forth, he gave a sharp thrust of his hips. Then slowly pulling the strip of silk out of the shirt collar, he swung it like a lasso and let it fly out over the heads of the women seated in front of him.

 

The tie dropped into a crowd of upraised hands and after a short tug of war and a lot of laughter and bawdy good-natured cheering, the victor squealed. With a satisfied grin, she looped it around her neck and raised her thumb up above her head.

 

The woman on the stage called out, “All right, get your cards ready! The first one is my book, Seal Team Alpha.

 

Several minutes and six titles later another scream went up, “Bingo!”

 

The bingo MC said, “Okay, since we’re short a cover model, we’ll have to do things a little different. Huey…”

 

“Wait! Sally,” one of the women at the door pointed at Ridge. “He’s here.” She grabbed Ridge’s arm and pushed him into the room. “Go on, you have some catching up to do.” They shoved him toward the stage.

 

“You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m not—” But they couldn’t hear him over the cheering and laughter.

 

“Tucker, Tucker, Tucker.” Who knew what the rabid spectators might do if he tried to escape? Ridge knew he hadn’t really tried to resist. The women were having a blast and the game seemed like good, clean fun, nothing he’d get arrested for.

 

The delight on the faces of the women made his pulse jump. Fun. God, when was the last time he’d done something just for the fun of doing it? For the kick.

 

One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile without his permission and the more they hooted and called to him, the wider it got until he figured, why the hel—heck not? No one knew him here. It was just harmless entertainment. A hundred women calling his name—or the AWOL Tucker’s name—and begging him to “take something off”.

 

He reached down, unbuckled his belt and very… slowly… slid it out of the loops.

 

Buy Links:  https://books2read.com/Ridge

 

Get it at every bookstore/retailer.

 

Livia Quinn Head Shot_M9A0603 square sml copy

 

Author Biography:

Sign up for Livia’s newsletter here.

 

DC native Livia Quinn gets her inspiration from the quirky characters she’s met, weather she’s experienced and from her former jobs in Louisiana where she lives with her husband and their little Cajun husky, Dusty, a personality-challenged Pomeranian. (He thinks he’s an Alaskan lead sled dog.)

 

 

Website: http://liviaquinn.com

 

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

 

Twitter    http://twitter.com/liviaquinn

 

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/liviaquinn

 

Goodreads http://bit.ly/22VXuev

 

Amazon Author page http://amzn.to/1T5qmhN

 

Google+ http://bit.ly/2guNZn9

 

Linkedin http://bit.ly/2dbYAP2

 

Instagram http://instagram.com/liviaquinnauthor

 

Independent Author Network http://bit.ly/2dlAr8L

 

Livia Quinns Facebook Reader Group http://bit.ly/2gBFQ12

 

 

Protected by His Grace by Grace Augustine @mallidalli #ChristianRomance #books


Protected by His Grace EBOOK 08122017 copy

 

Title:  Protected by His Grace

Author: Grace Augustine

Genre: Christian Romance Suspense

 

Book Blurb: 

Rev. James Turner takes his job seriously. As pastor of Lindenport Christian Church, he makes sure his congregation are spiritually fed and that their needs are met, especially during the holidays.

 

Thanksgiving, Advent, and Christmas Eve services are a mainstay to the Christian faith. At Lindenport Christian Church, it’s no different. The Thanksgiving community dinner and decorating committees have the church decked out for the holidays.

 

Pastor James’ faith is challenged when a beautiful female parishioner confides in him about her past, putting both and their loved ones in danger.

 

The magical beauty and wonder of Christmas Eve is a perfect backdrop for remembering God’s continued protection through adversity.

 

Excerpt

James nodded and took a nibble from one of the sweets he’d chosen.

 

“So, how can I help, Miss… I’m sorry, but I don’t know all the names of my congregation. There are many new people, but I assure you, once I do know your name, I won’t forget,” James chuckled.

 

“I’m sorry, Pastor Turner. I’m Jaden McAdam. I’ve been here a couple times. I’m enjoying your series on giving.”

 

“Thank you, but we didn’t come in my office to talk about giving, I don’t think. What has you upset?”

 

Jaden thought for a moment before speaking. It wasn’t easy for her to bare her soul to anyone, especially a semi-stranger. Sure, he was a pastor and more trustworthy than most, but it was still difficult. She didn’t know where to begin.

 

She’d moved to Acorn Hills with the hopes of starting a new life. She’d done that. Jaden was the most sought after real estate salesperson in the tri-county area. She had a beautiful condo filled with top of the line appliances and furniture. Her financial status was stable, she owed nothing but her monthly expenses. Yet, with all of this, her past cast an eerie shadow over her days and made for some sleepless nights.

 

James saw how difficult this was for Jaden, so he began asking questions, hoping to draw out information that would allow him to somehow help ease her burden.

 

“Please, tell me about yourself, Miss McAdam,” James prompted.

 

Jaden shrugged and sipped her coffee.

 

“Really, there isn’t much to tell. I moved to Acorn Hills several years ago after accepting a position with a real estate company. I took over the Lindenport office two months ago. Now, I find myself with the tag of top realtor of the area, making me one busy girl. And, please, call me Jaden.”

 

“Real estate must be as challenging as it is joyful. Congratulations for the title of top realtor, Jaden. It takes some years to achieve that status. You must be a real go-getter.”

 

Go-getter, yup, that’s me.

 

“Well, when you’re single and have no family, you tend to throw yourself into work.”

 

“How well I know that,” the pastor sighed, drained his cup, and poured another.

 

“Do you have relatives in the area? Is that why you moved?”

 

Jaden really didn’t want to play twenty questions, but she needed to talk with someone. No one knew her past or the reasons she wound up in Lindenport, not even her best friend, Adriana Zubarov.

 

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and set her empty coffee mug on the tray.

 

“No, Pastor, I don’t have relatives in the area,” she stated, nervously picking at the purse clasp again.

 

“Jaden, I assure you, if you don’t want to talk, I understand. We’ll just make this a new acquaintance meeting and leave it at that. My door is always open, please know that. I’d love to have you be part of my congregation, so if you have membership questions, let me know.”

 

“I don’t mean to be difficult. I don’t trust too many, Pastor Turner. I know you’re a man of God and I know what we talk about won’t go farther than the walls of your office. It’s just…”

 

Tears fell down Jaden’s soft pink cheeks. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

 

James knelt beside her chair, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was puzzled as to what would bring this woman to such grief. He was afraid of driving her away with more questions, but if he didn’t ask, he wasn’t going to know. He grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on his desk and placed them in her hands.

 

“Jaden, whatever this burden you are carrying, you know you will feel better once you share it with someone. I’m here and I want to help.”

 

 

Buy Links: 

Kindle:    http://a.co/ccWPQGk

 

Createspace for paperback:  https://www.createspace.com/7348701

 

Universal Link:  https://www.books2read.com/u/478xYE

 

(KOBO, Inktera, Apple for iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Tolino and other international sites)

 

Grace Augustine

 

Author Biography:

Award-winning novelist and editor, Grace Augustine, was born and raised in Montana. She currently resides in Iowa with her older son and a very feisty 3 yr. old cat named Bou. Grace is an avid promoter of all the arts and an advocate for Multiple Sclerosis. She loves hearing from her readers and may be contacted through her website at www.graceaugustine.weebly.com  or find her on twitter @mallidalli.

 

 

Social Media Links 

Facebook…. https://www.facebook.com/grace.au.372

Twitter… https://twitter.com/mallidalli

Websites… www.graceaugustine.weebly.com

www.editswithatouchofgrace.weebly.com

 

 

Happy Release Day to Gylded Wings by @LNightingale #Romance #Paranormal #WRPBks


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Title                Gylded Wings

 

Author            Linda Nightingale

 

Genre             Dark Fantasy/Romance

 

Publisher         The Wild Rose Press

 

Book Blurb

Angels in slavery? Brit Montgomery cannot believe it, until she is sent on a rescue mission to another dimension and witnesses the cruel practice first hand. The angel, Gyldan, is the most beautiful being she’s ever seen. She is drawn to him but sometimes beauty disguises wicked secrets. This man who rocks her world seems more demon than angel.

 

Gyldan, born into slavery, has one desire—fly free. When he escapes to Earth, he faces an alternate self-realization full of dark glory…and disbelief. Gyldan is bent on experiencing his newfound powers unmindful of the harm to Brit or others.

 

Confused and hurt by Gyldan’s erratic evil actions, Brit turns away. While Gyldan’s journey of self-discovery pulls him further distant, Brit finds acceptance in a solitary, comfortable life of her own until she realizes the day of reckoning has come. Will Gyldan be her final ruin or has he come back to her with a gift more precious than life itself?

 

Book Trailer

Excerpt

The lady flipped her hood back, and I stopped breathing.  In her olive wool cape, she looked like a wood nymph, at once young and innocent but wise.  Dark hair curled around an oval face.  Without a trace of fear, big, beautiful eyes held my gaze.  She didn’t belong to this dim, cruel world, and I ached merely to touch her.

 

Her lips parted on a soft exhalation. “You’re an ang—Malak.”

 

If only I could return her smile, but Ragnor would slice me in half.   I was forbidden to glance at her, but couldn’t take my eyes off a vision so perfect I might have conjured her, even to the scent of the forest and rain.  A memory of Miriam assaulted me, but I was helpless to control my feelings.  Never had a woman affected me as this one did.  I felt awkward, terribly aware of my worn clothes and the wings arched behind me, yet giddy and aroused.

 

My eyes offered the smile my lips were forbidden.  “Yes, My Lady.”

 

She tilted her head to look up at me.  Her gaze drifted over my wings, my face, flicked lower.  “In the North, we have heard of the Malak singers.  What’s your name?”

 

I was too shocked to answer.  Like an addle-pated fool, I gaped at her, and she laughed.

 

“Stand aside, Gyldan.”  The giant slammed his paw against my shoulder, throwing the weight of my wings to the left, and I lost my balance.

 

The lady’s hand shot out to steady me.  Ragnor wedged his body between us.  I stumbled into the wall.  As I righted myself, I glimpsed an angry expression on Lady Hamlin’s face.

 

She stepped past Ragnor and touched my arm.  “Are you all right?”

 

Excitement trembled over my entire body.  “Yes, My Lady.”

 

“You’ll see the freaks perform tonight.”  Ragnor shot me a dark frown, gesturing for her to follow.  “Come, Lady Hamlin, I’ll guide you to your chambers.”

 

“Gyldan.”  The sprite grinned as she smoothed a dark curl back from her face.  “Do you know the way?”

 

“No, My Lady.”  I was forced to lie to save my hide.  “I have never been in this part of the castle before.”

 

“Off with you then.”  A graceful hand shooed me along.  “Be about your business, and I shall go about mine.”

 

She had brushed me off like an insect on her sleeve.   What had I expected?  That she would feel the same overwhelming attraction I felt?

 

Giveaway:

Enter to win a pair of angel earrings (US Only)

 

Enter to win an e-copy from Linda Nightingale’s backlist (International)

a Rafflecopter giveaway
 

Giveaway ends 10/2/17

 

 

MM & Me RT

 

Author Biography

Born in South Carolina, Linda has lived in England, Canada, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Atlanta and Houston.  She’s seen a lot of this country from the windshield of a truck pulling a horse trailer, having bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses for many years.

 

Linda has won several writing awards, including the Georgia Romance Writers Magnolia Award and the SARA Merritt.  She retired from a career as a retired legal assistant, just joined the Houston BMW Club, and the stars in her crown—two wonderful sons. In a former life, she must have had to walk everywhere because today she is into transportation with fine taste in expensive horses and hot cars! She likes to dress up and host formal dinner parties.

 

Social Media Links

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/LNightingale

 

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

 

Web Site:  http://www.lindanightingale.com – Visit and look around. There’s a free continuing vampire story.

 

Blog:  https://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/ – Lots of interesting guests & prizes

 

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4839311.Linda_Nightingale

 

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/lbnightingale1/

 

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Linda-Nightingale/e/B005OSOJ0U

 

Devil’s Run by @BeverleyOakley is a Sweeping #HistoricalRomance! #books #romance


DR Cover

 

Title Devil’s Run

Author Beverley Oakley

Genre Historical Romance

 

Book Blurb

A rigged horse race – and a marriage offer riding on the outcome. When Miss Eliza Montrose unexpectedly becomes legal owner of the horse tipped to win the East Anglia Cup, her future is finally in her hands – but at what cost?

 

George Bramley, nephew to the Earl of Quamby, will wager anything. Even his future bride.

 

Miss Eliza Montrose will accept any wager to be reunited with the child she was forced to relinquish after an indiscretion — even if it means marrying a man she does not love.

 

But when the handsome and charming Rufus Patmore buys a horse from her betrothed, George Bramley, whose household her son visits from the foundling home, her heart is captured and the outcome of the wager is suddenly fraught with peril.

 

** This is book 3 in the Scandalous Miss Brightwell series, though it can be read as a stand-alone. **

 

Excerpt

“And there’s nothing else you’d like, my dear? No?” Straightening after receiving a polite rebuff, George Bramley found it an effort to keep the syrup in his tone. His bride-to-be had not even looked at him as she’d declined the piece of marchpane he’d been certain would win him at least a smile.

 

Hovering at her side, he weighed up the advantages of a gentle rebuke, then decided against it. Until yesterday, he’d thought her quiet demeanour suggested a charmingly pliant nature. Now he was not so sure. In fact, suddenly, he was not sure of anything.

 

“A glass of lemonade, perhaps, my angel? Or a gentle stroll?”

 

“I would prefer to be left alone.” Miss Montrose waved a languid hand in his general direction, while she continued to gaze at the still lake beside which their picnic party had situated itself.

 

The languid arm-wave had not even been accompanied by a demure thank you as subtle acknowledgement of her gratitude that not only had Mr Bramley, heir to a viscountcy, stepped in to rescue Miss Eliza Montrose from impoverishment, he was prepared to treat her publicly as if she were as fine a catch as he could have made.

 

A soft titter brought his head round sharply, but the ladies behind him, bent over the latest Ackerman’s Repository, appeared occupied with their own gossip as they lounged on cushions beneath the canopy that had been erected to protect them from the sun.

 

Awkwardly, he looked for occupation as he continued to eye his intended with a mixture of irritation and desire—both lustful desire, and the desire to put her in her place.

 

The idea of the latter made him harden. She was beautiful, this quiet, apparently retiring, young woman who said so little, but whose eyes spoke such volumes. The afternoon sun glinted on her honey-gold hair and imbued her porcelain skin with a warm glow. The skin that he could see, at any rate.

 

He pushed back his shoulders. On their wedding night in six weeks, when he’d at last take possession of her, he’d rip that modesty to shreds. The skin she was so at pains to hide would be his, not only to see, but to caress and taste. When she was his wife, the beautiful, distant Miss Eliza Montrose would no longer get away with paying George Bramley so little attention. No, he’d have her screaming and writhing at his command.

 

He would make her like the things he did to her; or at least, show him she did if she enjoyed harmony as much as she appeared to. None of this languid reclining like a half-drugged princess in his presence. He’d keep her on her toes, ready to leap to his bidding at the sound of his footstep. She’d learn to be grateful.

 

Buy Links

Amazon US  http://amzn.to/2hfKqCp

All other retailers  https://www.books2read.com/u/m2XzAR

 

beverley-eikli-author-pic-copy

 

Author Biography

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

 

Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

 

Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.

 

Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

 

Social Media Links

website | Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Goodreads

 

My Little Fart Series by @AuthorsBen_Sam is Great Fun and a Must-Read! #kidlit #books


The Day My Fart Followed Me To Home

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me Home

 

If you and your child love to read together, then you are going to love this!

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me Home is a beautifully illustrated journey of Timmy and how he meets his new friend!

 

If you enjoy reading funny books with gorgeous pictures and love your child to read along with you, then make sure you grab The Day My Fart Followed Me Home.

 

Discover and giggle along with Timmy on his unexpected journey with his new best friend!

 

Scroll up and get ready to giggle along with your children!

 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Day-My-Fart-Followed-Home/dp/1530776279/

 

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-day-my-fart-followed-me-home-ben-jackson/1123689830?ean=9780995234031

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To Hockey Stamp

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To Hockey

 

Timmy and his best friend the Fart are back again!

 

If you and your child love to read together, then you are going to love reading along with Timmy and his Fart as they play hockey together!

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To Hockey is a beautifully illustrated journey of Timmy and his best friend the Little Fart as they attend Timmy’s first hockey tryouts. Chaos and laughter ensue as the Fart attempts to help out his best friend the only way he knows how.

 

If you enjoy reading funny books with beautiful illustrations and love having your child read along with you, then make sure you grab The Day My Fart Followed Me To Hockey.

 

Discover and giggle along with Timmy and his best friend on their exciting day at the hockey arena!

 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Day-My-Fart-Followed-Hockey-ebook/dp/B01LY5KFJI/

 

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-day-my-fart-followed-me-to-hockey-ben-jackson/1126406602?ean=9780995234024

 

The Day My Fart Followed Santa Up The Chimney Cover

 

The Day My Fart Followed Santa Up The Chimney

 

Timmy and his best friend the Little Fart are back again! This time they have a new friend, Santa Clause!

 

If you and your child love to read together, then you are going to love reading along with Timmy, the Little Fart, and Santa Clause as they have another fantastic adventure.

 

The Day My Fart Followed Santa Up The Chimney is a beautifully illustrated journey of Timmy’s best friend the Little Fart and Santa Clause as they help deliver presents and spread happiness and joy. There’s always plenty of laughter and giggles as the Little Fart attempts to help the only way he knows how.

 

If you enjoy reading funny books with beautiful illustrations and love having your child read along with you, then make sure you grab The Day My Fart Followed Santa Up The Chimney!

 

Discover and giggle along with Timmy and his best friend on the most exciting day of the year!

 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Day-Fart-Followed-Santa-Chimney/dp/1988656028/

 

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-day-my-fart-followed-santa-up-the-chimney-ben-jackson/1125257089?ean=9781988656069

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To Soccer Cover

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To Soccer

 

Timmy and his best friend the Fart are back again!

 

If your child loves soccer and playing sport, then you’re going to love reading along with Timmy and his best friend the Little Fart!

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To Soccer is a beautifully illustrated journey of Timmy and his imaginary best friend the Little Fart as they attend Timmy’s soccer match, and meet his new friend Sophie. Chaos and laughter ensue as the Little Fart tries to help Timmy and Sophie the only way he knows how!

 

If you enjoy reading funny books with beautiful illustrations and love having your child read along with you, then make sure you grab The Day My Fart Followed Me To Soccer!

 

Discover and giggle along with Timmy, Sophie and the Little Fart on their exciting day at the soccer field!

 

Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Day-My-Fart-Followed-Soccer/dp/1988656095/

 

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-day-my-fart-followed-me-to-soccer-ben-jackson/1126322678?ean=9781988656090

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To The Dentist Cover

 

The Day My Fart Followed Me To The Dentist

 

Timmy and his best friend the Little Fart are back again in The Day My Fart Followed Me To The Dentist! In this beautifully illustrated children’s book you’ll experience Timmy’s first visit to the dentist, losing a tooth, and a visit from the Tooth Fairy.

 

No child loves the thought of a visit to the dentist. In The Day My Fart Followed Me To The Dentist, Timmy takes a trip to the dentist with his best, and imaginary, friend the Little Fart. Timmy needs to have a tooth removed and then needs to help to try and explain the Tooth Fairy to the Little Fart.

 

Whenever the Little Fart is involved, hilarity and mischievousness are sure to follow! The authors decided to publish this book to try and help parents and dentists show that the dentist doesn’t have to be a bad experience. In the end, there is always the reward of receiving a visit by the magical and beautiful Tooth Fairy.

 

If you enjoy reading funny books with beautiful illustrations and love having your child read along with you, then make sure you grab The Day My Fart Followed Me To The Dentist! Discover and giggle along with Timmy, and the Little Fart on their exciting day at the dentist.

 

Smashwords (FREE) – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/734101

 

Barnes & Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-day-my-fart-followed-me-to-the-dentist-ben-jackson/1126854211?ean=9781988656151

 

ben-and-sam

 

Author

Ben Jackson and Sam Lawrence

 

Illustrator

Danko Herrera

 

Genre

Children’s books – humor – Grade K-4 – Kids 3-10

 

Publisher

Indie Publishing Group http://www.indiepublishinggroup.com

 

Author Biography

Ben lives in Tasmania, Australia. While working during the week as a Boiler Maker/Welder, specializing in Aluminium Welding, he also writes of a night as a Freelance Writer and Author.

 

Ben is in a Long-Distance Relationship with his wife Sam, who lives in Canada, she works as a full-time formatting professional, publisher, and author.

 

Be sure to check out all his books, there is definitely something there for everyone!

 

As Indie Authors, we rely on our valuable customers to write a review, if you could spare a minute to leave a review of one of our books, we would greatly appreciate it.

 

He has numerous books in progress so stay tuned for information on those by following this page, connecting with him on Facebook or Goodreads.

 

Remember, if you enjoyed one of his books, leave a review! Please feel free to check out our children’s book website at http://www.mylittlefart.com

 

Ben Jackson Social Media Links

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15144197.Ben_Jackson Goodreads Page

 

https://www.amazon.com/Ben-Jackson/e/B00S4A4W5C/ Amazon Author Page

 

http://bennsam.tumblr.com/ Tumbler

 

https://au.pinterest.com/benandsamauthor/ Pinterest

 

https://www.facebook.com/BenandSamAuthors/ Facebook Ben & Sam

 

https://www.facebook.com/MyLittleFart/ Facebook My Little Fart

 

https://twitter.com/AuthorsBen_Sam Twitter

 

http://www.mylittlefart.com My Little Fart Website

 

 

 

 

Jump Into the Seven Winds series by @katyamesbooks #romance #womensfiction


SevenWindsSeries_BannerFBAd

 

AftertheIsland_cover

 

Title: After the Island (Seven Winds Book 1)

Author: Katy Ames

Genre: Contemporary Romance / Women’s Fiction

 

Book Blurb:

“Rules or no rules, Sadie, once our lips touched there was no going back. Not for me. Not ever.”

 

Charming. Brilliant. Powerful. Jack Avery is Sadie’s biggest client and he’s wanted her since the first time she stepped into his office. But for four years he’s managed to conceal every lustful thought, and hide every lurid look. Because no matter how much Jack wants Sadie, any relationship between them is the definition of complicated.

 

Intelligent. Driven. Successful. Sadie Carter’s event planning career is thriving and she’s not about to let anything – or anyone – distract her. Not even the darkly handsome man who can make her pulse race with a lingering look or breath catch with a simple handshake.

 

Until one night, one kiss, changes everything.

 

Professionally, Sadie is at the top of her game. But, personally, there is no way she could ever plan for a man like Jack.

 

So when a work trip to the Caribbean turns into a week in paradise, they’re forced to choose: Pursue a passion that ignites under the tropical night sky? Or risk destroying everything they’ve ever worked for by staying together after the island?

 

Excerpt:

Sadie’s pulse had returned to its regular pace after her dash across the hotel. But even as she kept her eyes casually fixed on Jack’s, she realized that her hand was still clasped in his. As the heat from his broad palm and strong fingers seeped in and spread up her arm, Sadie’s heart began to race for an entirely different reason. Perhaps Jack caught a glimpse of discomfort on her face. Or felt the subtle shiver that raced across her fingers. Either way, he released her hand and took a step back, his smile easy, charming.

 

Sadie swallowed, hoping her voice would come out at a normal octave. “I’m afraid the hotel is putting the final touches on your room and you won’t be able to check in yet.” She cast a glance back at the front desk clerk who was industriously pounding away on the computer. “I’ve given them fifteen minutes to rectify the situation. In the meantime, I’d be happy to give you a quick tour of the property, show you where everything is taking place over the next few days.”

 

Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and rocked back on his heels. “What a kind offer, Sadie. And though I’m sure you’d make a charming tour guide, I see some of my colleagues in the bar. A Scotch and a seat by one of those fireplaces is exactly what I need after today’s trip.”

 

“Of course, Mr. Avery. Please….” Sadie let her voice drop off as she gestured towards the bar. A bizarre motion, she realized, as if she was granting him permission to join his colleagues. But if Jack found it odd, he made no sign of it. Instead, he paused while he pulled a small square of paper from his wallet, scribbled something on the back, and handed it over to her.

 

Sadie plucked the paper from his fingers, careful not to brush his skin with hers. If she’d been less distracted she’d have realized it was a business card before staring at it for a second. But with her brain still skittering over her odd reaction to his handshake, she looked blankly between the card and his face several times before he took pity on her.

 

“My cell phone number.” Still, Sadie’s face remained blank. “If you pass it along to the front desk they can just call or text. When my room is ready.”

 

Sadie closed her eyes, silently cursing her stupidity. And there she stood, mute, a blush creeping up her neck as she mentally berated herself for being an idiot in front of one of her clients.

 

“Certainly, Mr. Avery. I’ll be sure they contact you as soon as your room is ready.” Trying to regain some credibility, Sadie continued, “If you’d like me to bring you the keys just let the front desk know when they call. They have my number. I’d be happy to save you a trip back to the lobby. I can deliver the keys to you at the bar.”

 

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Carter. I’m perfectly capable of getting into my own room. I’m sure you have far better things to do than babysit me.” Catching the eye of one of his colleagues, Jack gave a brisk wave and headed their way. But as he passed Sadie he paused, dropping his head so that his mouth was inches from her ear. “Don’t worry, Ms. Carter. I’m a big boy. I’m capable of taking care of all sorts of things.”

 

Buy Links:

Amazon + Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0734HPBB8

 

Author Biography:

Katy Ames loves a good story. Whether through blogs, books, or live events, she’s been an avid story teller her entire career.

 

With a bachelor’s in English Literature, Katy is happiest when curled up on her favorite sofa with a captivating read, whether it’s the Romantic poets or contemporary romance. A good glass of bourbon doesn’t hurt, either.

 

Katy lives with her husband and son in Washington, D.C. When she’s not writing or reading, she’s very enthusiastic about fancy cheese, late nights & lazy mornings. Only two of which she gets to enjoy on a regular basis.

 

Katy is a member of both the Romance Writers of America and the Washington Romance Writers.

 

Social Media Links:

Newsletter:: http://eepurl.com/cNWocb

Website: www.katyamesbooks.com

Instagram: http://instagram.com/katyamesbooks

Twitter: http://twitter.com/katyamesbooks

FB: http://facebook.com/katyamesbooks

 

AftertheFall_cover

 

Title: After the Fall (Seven Winds Book 2)

Author: Katy Ames

Genre: Contemporary Romance / Women’s Fiction

 

Book Blurb:

If there was one man in the world Grace Fitzgerald never wanted to see again, it was Mark Donovan.

 

Sinfully handsome, famously flirtatious, unerringly cocky. Paragon of men. Archetype of entitled a**holes. As a guest at her luxury hotel, Mark was impossible.

 

As the new owner of her hotel, he’s become a nightmare. The kind that wakes Grace in the middle of the night wishing she could forget how right his lips felt against her own, how tempting his fingers were against her skin.

 

But for all of the challenges that Mark and Grace face working together, nothing can prepare them for the undeniable attraction that flares every time they battle for control. Or the secrets that linger in the luxury of the Seven Winds Resort.

 

With no way of escaping each other or their pasts, can they possibly survive life on the island after they fall?

 

AfterTheFallQC_StopStaring

 

Excerpt:

A loud crack split the air beneath her.

 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Grace ran down to the lower level. Whatever she’d expected to find on the ground floor of the resort’s most expensive villa, this wasn’t it.

 

There, sprawled on the ground, eyes closed, lips skewed in an off-kilter smile, wearing nothing more than a wrinkled pair of shorts, was Mark Donovan, co-founder and CEO of D&A International. Sinfully handsome, wildly successful, obscenely wealthy, unerringly cocky, undeniably brilliant, famously flirtatious. And, Grace was horrified to realize, unconscious and sporting a wicked cut above one eyebrow.

 

“Oh, no, no.” Grace rushed towards him and crouched over Mr. Donovan’s motionless form, her hands fluttering just above his face. Get a grip, Grace. Check to see if he’s breathing, check to make sure nothing is blocking his airways. She focused with a deep breath and shifted her brain to autopilot.

 

Grace’s pulse calmed substantially when she saw Mr. Donovan’s chest rise in a steady, heavy breath. Definitely not dead. Thank the good Lord. Running an assessing glance across his head and body, Grace confirmed that other than the bruise blossoming beneath the cut on his head, Mark appeared to be perfectly fine. Though unconscious.

 

An incoherent mumble broke free of his lips, followed by a muffled snore. Grace amended that last part. Not unconscious. Asleep.

 

Slumping back, Grace rearranged herself so she could sit more comfortably on the floor, her eyes fixed on her unwitting patient. Mark was stretched out and motionless, giving Grace an unparalleled view of his starkly beautiful face and meticulously sculpted body. His eyes were closed and Grace’s gaze wandered across the sharp ridges of his cheekbones and refined slope of his nose, both of which drew her attention down toward his wide, generous mouth, his lips parted, soft puffs of air brushing the strong, supple lines on every exhale.

 

Determined to ignore her sudden impulse to taste those lips, Grace shifted her eyes away. But a particularly deep inhale dragged her back, this time her attention landing on the long planes of his broad chest, light wisps of blond hair dusting the hard curves that came to an abrupt halt against the repetitive ridges of his abdomen.

 

Grace, you need to stop staring. Seriously. Stop staring!

 

But Grace’s eyes had a mind of their own. As Mark breathed, the play of the muscles across his stomach and sides was hypotonic, the slopes and dips elegantly formed, exquisitely defined. Of its own volition, Grace’s tongue slipped across her lower lip as she caught the hint of dark ink dancing across the shadow of one hipbone.

 

God help her, he was beautiful. Every delicious detail all the more enticing at that precise moment because his eyes weren’t flashing in disdain. And his voice wasn’t dripping with irritation. Mark Donovan, silent and still, was perfect.

 

Awake and entitled? Not so much.

 

“Typically, I expect a woman to buy me one drink, at least, before she gets to enjoy such an up-close and personal view.”

 

Grace squeaked in surprise and tried to scramble back, but Mark anchored one of her wrists in a warm, inflexible grasp.

 

“You had an accident. I found you on the floor. I was making sure you weren’t injured.”

 

Confusion, then recollection flashed in the deep indigo of his eyes. Pressing his free hand to the bump on his forehead, he cocked his lips into a crooked grin. “From what I can tell, my injuries are up here. Not”—he nodded in the direction of his crotch—“down there.”

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/After-Fall-Seven-Winds-ebook/dp/B0756LSZQ4/

 

AfterTheFallQC_PersonalView

One Strike Will Bring Them Together – Thunderstruck by @brendadrake #YA #Mythology #Romance




 

Thunderstruck
Brenda Drake
Published by: Entangled Crave
Publication date: September 11th 2017
Genres: Mystery, Mythology, Romance

 

Stevie Moon is famous…at least to the subscribers on her comic review vlog. At school, she’s as plain as the gray painted walls in the cafeteria. So when Blake, the hot new guy at school, shows an interest in her, she knows trouble when she sees it. Been there. And never doing it again.

 

As the son of the god Thor, Blake Foster’s been given an important mission—to recover the Norse god Heimdall’s sacred and powerful horn before someone uses it to herald in the destruction of the entire universe. But while Blake is great in a fight, the battlefield that is a high school’s social scene is another matter.

 

Blake knows his only choice is to team up with the adorable Stevie, but she’s not willing to give him even the time of day. He’ll need to woo the girl and find the horn if he hopes to win this war. Who better to tackle Stevie’s defenses than the demi-god of thunder?

 

“Every page brims with captivating Norse mythology and deliciously creative worldbuilding.” Pintip Dunn, New York Times bestselling author.

 

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT:

After disposing of the troll, Blake rushed to May’s house and showered. His thoughts kept going to Stevie. After hearing what Jörd said to him, he wanted to see her. The pull to go to her was too strong. He had no choice but to give in to it.

He climbed the tree outside Stevie’s room and sat on the branch. A blue light blinked on and off inside the room. He lightly tapped on the window. Muffled voices from within the room hummed against the glassed pane.

The curtain pushed aside. Amira was close to Stevie’s back when the curtain slid to the side. Stevie said something to Amira that Blake couldn’t hear through the thick glass. Amira turned away and dropped onto the bed. Stevie flipped the locks and opened the window.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Stevie snapped.

Amira crossed her arms. “Yeah, we’re watching scary movies here.”

Blake tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t hold it in. “My apologies. Can I have a moment alone with you, Stevie?”

“With me?” She glanced back.

“No.” Amira heaved a sigh. “With the other Stevie in the room.”

“Where do you want to go?”

He reached his hand out to her. “Out here is fine.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on,” he said. “It’s perfectly safe. This branch is thick. Trust me.”

“Stop being a chicken and go already. I have to pee.” Amira shuffled off.

Stevie hesitated before grabbing his hand and letting him guide her out the window and onto the branch. “This is crazy, you know that?”

“If you never throw caution to the wind, you’ll never be rewarded.” He sat on the branch and held her hand as she came down beside him. Her hand was warm and soft in his, and he wanted to hold it forever.

The loose pajama bottoms she wore had cats on them. Her pink tank top rode up a little and exposed a bit of her midriff. Her light-brown hair, the color of the acorns he’d gathered with his grandmother when he was a boy, rose in the wind behind her. Wide, dark eyes met his, her full lips parted in a smile.

“What did you want?” She glanced at the ground. “Wow, this is pretty high.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.” He slid his hand across her lower back and held her waist. She shivered. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” she said.

“Hold on.” He let her go, shrugged off his hoodie, and draped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

She held it closed at the zipper. He returned his arm around her, grasping her waist. She shuddered, and he smiled at her response to his touch.

“You didn’t answer me,” she said. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Actually, I’m not here to talk,” he said. “Have you ever had an urge to do something, and once it’s in your head, you can’t sleep or think until you do the thing?”

“I guess.” When she looked over at him, they locked eyes and an intensity passed between them like the energy he felt in the handle of his hammer after catching lightning with it. He noticed a faint scar just above her cupid’s bow.

“How did you get the scar?” he asked.

“Scar?” She glanced down at her chest.

“Not there,” he whispered, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. “On your lip.”

She touched it. “Oh this? It’s an embarrassing story. Let’s just say, I learned to watch where I’m walking, especially when poles are around.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine what happened.”

She lowered her head again, her feet kicking back and forth.

He decided to take his chance and cupped her face in his hands, bringing her face to his and kissing her. It was a gentle, wanting kiss. Her lips were soft and warm against his. She tasted like May’s brownies. When Stevie hadn’t responded to his kiss, he was about to release her, but then her lips began moving with his. He cradled her in his arms and they balanced together on the branch.

 

Author Bio:

 

Brenda Drake is a New York Times bestselling author of young adult fiction. She grew up the youngest of three children, an Air Force brat, and the continual new kid at school. Her fondest memories growing up is of her eccentric, Irish grandmother’s animated tales, which gave her a strong love for storytelling. So it was only fitting that she would choose to write stories with a bend toward the fantastical. When she’s not writing or hanging out with her family, she haunts libraries, bookstores, and coffee shops, or reads someplace quiet and not at all exotic (much to her disappointment).

 

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

GIVEAWAY!

 

Swag pack (US only)

 

$25 Amazon gift card (INTL)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

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50% off — War Eternal – Angels’ Whispers by J. F. Cain #fantasy #romance #deals


Angels Whispers Cover

 

Title: War Eternal – Angels’ Whispers

Author: J.F. Cain

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance

 

Book Blurb:

Alex Meyers, a dynamic, global entrepreneur, has an advantage that no other human has ever had: he is protected by Aranes, the Superior of the Angels. While he is skiing, he dies in an avalanche, but his all-powerful protector breaks one of the ethereal world’s most important Rules and brings him back to life. Alex falls head over heels in love with the beautiful Angel, who appears to him in human form. But she disappears just as suddenly as she had appeared.

 

While he searches for Aranes, Alex discovers her true identity and that he actually might be the high-ranking Celestial Abaddon, who is mentioned in the Revelations prophecy as the one who will defeat Lucifer.

 

The man who fate has thrust among the world’s superpowers is now living a nightmare. He wants to evade Lucifer’s pursuit, find out who he truly is and once again see the only being he has ever loved. And the only way to do it is to make the ultimate sacrifice.

 

Angels’ Whispers is the beginning of an epic tale set in modern times. The eternal war between Light and Darkness is at a critical turning point: Angels and Demons, invisible to mortal beings, battle for dominance in the physical world, while Guardians, Vampires and Werewolves, who live among the humans, find themselves on opposing sides in a deadly power game.

 

Excerpt:

When they had left the road and its noise far enough behind them, Alex jerked to a stop. He turned to Aranes, let her hand go and grabbed her by the arms.

 

“Who are you? Or should I ask what are you?”

 

The Angel looked him steadily in the eye, not speaking. She had come to the physical plane to prepare him for what was to follow and this was the best way to show him that there were some things that couldn’t be said.

 

“What do you want from me?” Alex continued. “Has some competitor put you up to approaching me?”

 

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Aranes said hurriedly to allay his undue worry.

 

The storm that had risen in Alex’s eyes seemed to calm and the frothy-wave-like silver streaks in his irises began to roll gently against their deep blue backdrop.

 

“Fine! Then could you explain some things to me?”

 

Besides everything else she had to do, the Angel also had to leave hints about her nature. Soon her protégé would replay their discussions and would analyze her every word to reach some conclusions.

 

“I can’t right now,” she replied, capturing his gaze in hers so that she could send him non-verbal messages.

 

Her calm expression and steady gaze made Alex wonder. She seemed sincere. But why didn’t she give him a specific answer?

 

“What’s going on?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. “Tell me, what should I think? You appear out of nowhere, drag me out of an avalanche, treat me as if I’m special to you and then drop me, only to appear out of nowhere again, knowing that I’ve been looking for you. Don’t you also think that all this is a little strange?”

 

“Yes, it is,” the Angel agreed. “Please, be patient. Soon you’ll have the answers you need.”

 

Alex would not give in.

 

“I’d rather have them now, starting with who you are.”

 

“That question will be answered soon, too,” Aranes replied and rested her palm in the middle of his chest. “Look into my eyes, Alex, and tell me. Do you believe I would ever harm you?”

 

He looked bewilderedly down at her hand on his chest. It felt as if a wave of warmth passed from her palm into his body, filling him with an indescribable sweetness and wonderful emotions unknown to him until now. He looked up and searched her unearthly eyes for an answer to this transcendental feeling, and found much more. In her effort to calm him and win his trust, the Angel unveiled her soul and let him see how she felt.

 

Alex saw her eyes overflowing with love and was stunned.

 

This woman seemed to adore him. It couldn’t be! She knew him so little. To be precise, she didn’t know him at all. You don’t know her either but you’re crazy about her, he thought in response.

 

“No,” he admitted, now calm. “But I don’t like all this mystery. How did you know I’ve been looking for you, and why doesn’t the cabin’s owner know you?”

 

“There’s always an explanation for everything”, Aranes replied, her gaze fixed on his. “Isn’t that so?”

 

“Why don’t you just tell me who you are? Are you really called Theodora? What’s your last name?”

 

“I don’t have a last name.”

 

“That’s not possible. Everybody has one,” Alex insisted gently.

 

“I don’t, because I don’t need it.”

 

Aranes let a brief moment of silence elapse to give him time to think.

 

He was looking at her in puzzlement. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know anyone without a last name. Where had this woman come from?

 

“Alex,” the Angel went on. “You have an extremely well-developed intuition. Listen to it and stay calm, no matter what happens.”

 

Her mention of his intuition caught him completely unawares. Alarm bells started ringing in his head again.

 

“What’s going to happen? And how do you know about my intuition?” he asked with a bewildered and at the same time suspicious look.

 

Forced to provide only that information which his mental state could handle, Aranes didn’t answer his question. She went on:

 

“There are things you cannot see, but can sense. Don’t try to explain everything using reason.”

 

“If I don’t use reason I’ll go mad!” Alex said with a measure of the irritation that lay dormant inside him and just wouldn’t be expressed in its true form.

 

He was annoyed with himself for not protesting, and for letting her put his head through the wringer without asking for anything more than the necessary explanations—and yet he was happy they were together. It was crazy, is what it was!

 

“Being calm and collected in times of crisis is characteristic of a superior nature, and I believe you are one of them,” Aranes told him, wanting to prepare him for what would happen in the immediate future.

 

Superior in nature was the last thing that Alex felt right then. Reason was bombarding his mind with questions and warnings, and there he stood, helpless to react. He wondered at his calm. He should normally have freaked out when she mentioned his intuition and with everything else she told him. But his will seemed to have surrendered to a hypnotic suggestion. What held him in its grip?

 

Not having any clue about the supernatural powers used on him, the answer was simple: her exquisite face, captivating scent, divine body and basically everything about her, her intellectual qualities included of course, that drove him delirious with love and made him want to make her his at all costs. It was a good excuse for his passiveness, otherwise why would he be acting like a mentally retarded adult? It wasn’t like him at all.

 

 

Buy Links:

Smashwords (on sale for only $1.99): https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/717290

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y4XDY8T

 

J.F. Cain

 

Author Biography:

J.F. Cain is a writer with a restless mind who spent years of her life reading and travelling. But of all the places she has been to, her favorite is a house in the mountains where she can focus on her writing. She is a seeker of knowledge who transcribes the results of her studies in her books. Her favorite pastime –other than reading and writing- is scouring libraries. However, she has lately convinced herself that she enjoys shopping just as much, as well as spending time with family and friends –the few that can still tolerate her frequent and extended periods of absence.

 

Social Media Links:

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/War-Eternal-154338138433874/

 

Submission, Secrets, and the Soldier by @KryssieFortune #romance #militaryromance #FridayReads


396kb KF_SubmissionSecretsandtheSoldier_coverin

 

Title Submission, Secrets, and the Soldier

Author  Kryssie Fortune

Genre Contemporary, ex-military, spanking romance

Publisher Loose id

 

Book Blurb

Luke Roberts, a former army mechanic, has a new sub. She’s shy and inexperienced, but willing. As he teaches her about sensation play, she fears he’ll really hurt her and screams her safewords at him. Her reaction causes Luke to have a flashback. Although he’s clawing his way back to normal, he suffers from PTSD. Determined to get well, he contacts a PTSD specialist in Westhorpe Ridge.

Kathryn Johnson has visited a BDSM club three times. When she hooks up with Luke Roberts, he unintentionally terrifies her. She swears off spankings and goes home to Westhorpe Ridge. The last person she expects to see there is Luke Roberts.

Circumstances force them to share an apartment. Can Luke protect her when danger threatens? Or is she just a temporary sub in residence?

 

This is book four of my Heroes of Westhopre Ridge series. Like all the others, it’s a stand alone, HEA romance.

 

 4 former soldiers

 

Excerpt

Kathryn screamed as the car sped toward them. “Farlaise. Straight ahead. We’re sitting ducks.”

 

Luke gritted his teeth and opened the throttle. The dump truck sped up. Solid, but not superfast, it trundled along the road. A brick outhouse came to mind as he headed directly for Farlaise’s car. This was one game of chicken Luke meant to win. Even if he took a bullet, he’d hold his course and keep Kathryn safe. “So, junior leaguer, how’s your pitching?”

 

She tried for a smile, but it turned into a grimace. “I had one of the team’s lowest earned run averages.”

 

Luke kept the throttle open wide. The chugging of the engine grew louder, but he’d told her the dump truck had a top speed of less than thirty miles an hour. The wind made it feel faster.

 

He took a deep breath and yelled, “Hooah. Balls-to-the-wall time. Our dump truck will pulverize their front end. When you’re near enough, lob one of your Molotov things in their direction. Anything to keep them off-balance since I might as well have a target on my chest sitting up here.”

 

She barely heard him over the engine noise. Adrenaline shot through her. She shivered with a mix of exhilaration, panic, and determination. Protecting Luke mattered more than her safety. Her fear level rose right along with her blood pressure. She could hear her heart race, but she’d keep the driver distracted. No way would she let Farlaise and his henchman hurt Luke.

 

Kathryn didn’t think, just reacted. She lit a match and set one fabric wick burning. Sitting tall, she lobbed her homemade bomb toward the oncoming car. She didn’t expect to hit them, but the banked roadside between Farlaise’s car and the dump truck went up in flames. Farlaise swerved to avoid the fire, almost tossing the henchman out the window as he leaned out and leveled his gun at them.

 

Kathryn peered out the hopper. The henchman had his gun pointed directly at Luke. No way, buster. Careful not to spill fuel, she lit a second wick. Taking a deep breath, she pitched it down the road.

 

Unflinching, Luke held their steady path down the center of the road. He groaned when Kathryn’s throw landed short. The grenade rolled onto the center of the road and sent a sheet of flames upward. Farlaise swerved again. Determined to keep Luke safe, she pitched a third bomb and lit a fourth.

 

Farlaise saw it coming. He swerved right, going off the road and up the banking. The fourth Molotov cocktail hit his radiator. Flames shot around the hood. Farlaise lost control of the car. It rolled, tossing the henchman onto the verge and knocking him unconscious.

 

The car landed on its side. Luke kept chugging forward. “Get down, Kate. I don’t want Farlaise to crawl out of the wreck shooting.”

 

The upturned car blocked her view. She couldn’t see what happened behind it. As she watched, a gun barrel poked over the wreck. Lined up on Luke, it glinted in the afternoon sun.

 

Crack.

 

A single shot rang out. Kathryn screamed again. The gun barrel lowered. Slowly, it toppled from Farlaise’s hand. God, what if he hit Luke? She swiveled in her seat, praying he was unhurt. No blood stained his overalls. He wasn’t slumped in his seat. Farlaise hadn’t shot him.

 

Luke kept the dump truck chugging down the road. When they drove past the upturned vehicle, Farlaise lay in a pool of his own blood on the grass. A police car pulled up, and Jared stepped out the passenger side, rifle in hand. He strode over to Farlaise and picked up his gun before searching the unconscious crook for weapons. Finding none, he stepped back. Luke nodded toward Jared. “Great shot. I owe you one.”

 

Jared shrugged. “It’s what the army trained me for. It was an easy shot for a marine sniper.”

 

Relief made Kathryn’s muscles weak. Shoulders slumped, she peered over the dump truck’s hopper. “Hooah indeed. Luke, you’re either a hero or a lunatic. Maybe both.”

 

Jared touched two fingers to his forehead in salute. Striding over to the henchman, Jared frisked him for weapons. The sheriff went to help Kathryn out of the hopper, but Luke beat him to it.

 

Maybe he held her a little too long as he lowered her to the ground, but she didn’t care. Her heart demanded she cling to him and never let go. If only her brain wasn’t chanting pregnant girlfriend over and over, she’d have been so happy she burst. Rather than respond, she stiffened and stepped away from him.

 

Buy Links

Loose id

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Kobo

 

Kryssie Fortune

 

Author Biography

Kryssie is never seen without her kindle. She reads everything and anything she can get her hands on. When she discovered hot, sexy reads, she felt like she’d found her home. The only books she hates are the ones that end with a cliff hanger or have unhappy endings.

 

Kryssie tries to set her stories in places she’s explored. Hopefully, it adds color to her writing. Anything can spark a story idea. Sometimes she takes liberties though. The North Yorkshire town of Whitby is one of her favorite places. To keep the details of her imaginary town, Westhorpe Ridge consistent, she mentally shunted Whitby over the Atlantic and renamed it Westhorpe Ridge.

 

When not writing, Kryssie loves to walk on the beach of home town, Bridlington, or potter in her garden. Popping down to London to see her family is her favorite thing to do.

 

Kryssie currently has thirteen books on general release along with a boxed e-book of the first three Westhorpe Ridge stories. All her stories are M/ F or M/M/F. All are edited by publishing houses in either the UK or the USA. While her stories sizzle with sex, plot comes before bed. Life’s always an adventure going on in Kryssie’s world.

 

Social Media Links

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

Website

 

Or you can email her direct on Kryssie.Fortune@aim.com

 

The Du Lac Princess by @MaryAnneYarde Cover Reveal! #HistoricalFantasy #FridayReads


KINDLE The Du Lac Princess 21 April 2017 FINAL

 

Title

The Du Lac Princess (Book 3 Of The Du Lac Chronicles)

 

Author

Mary Anne Yarde

 

Genre

Historical Fantasy

 

Book Blurb

War is coming…

 

The ink has dried on Amandine’s death warrant. Her crime? She is a du Lac.

 

All that stands in the way of a grisly death on a pyre is the King of Brittany. However, King Philippe is a fickle friend, and if her death is profitable to him, then she has no doubt that he would light the pyre himself.

 

Alan, the only man Amandine trusts, has a secret and must make an impossible choice, which could have far-reaching consequences — not only for Amandine, but for the whole of Briton.

 

 

Excerpt

“Philippe is a generous king. You are lucky.”

 

“Lucky?” Amandine laughed without humour and looked away.

 

“I don’t know how to say this, so I will come straight out with it.” Brother Daniel said as he put the brush back down. “Your husband, Lord Bretagne, petitioned the Pope for a divorce. The Pope granted it on the grounds of adultery and Devil worship.”

 

Amandine breathed out unsteadily. “I was expecting it,” she stated with a small shrug. “I did not deserve him. Lord Bretagne is a good man.”

 

“So why did you betray him? For the life of me, Amandine, I can not understand why.”

 

“Have you never loved? I am not talking about the love you have for God. I am talking about the love you have for another.”

 

Brother Daniel shook his head.

 

“Love is all consuming. You cannot stop it. You cannot prevent it. It just happened.”

 

“You are making excuses for yourself. You know the difference between right and wrong. You were married. And any feelings you had for Merton should have been buried deep down inside. Look what your love for him has done to you.”

 

“It wasn’t my love for him that did this to me. My love had nothing to do with it.”

 

“You should have known better.” Brother Daniel sat down again and took her hand back in his. “Life isn’t going to be easy for you from now on.”

 

Amandine giggled. “Thank you, Brother, for the warning,” she could not keep the sarcasm from her voice.

 

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” there was censure in the monk’s words.

 

“If I don’t laugh then I am going to cry. I have been made to feel like a sinner even though I haven’t sinned, not really. I am a woman without hope and without any friends or family. I have lost everyone I ever loved, and now you tell me that life is going to be difficult. How much more difficult can it get?”

 

“The Pope has condemned you with Bell, Book and Candle,” Brother Daniel stated. “But that is not all. The Abbot made sure that the Pope was all too aware of your crimes. I am sorry, Amandine, but the Pope will never welcome you back into the Church.”

 

Amandine gasped, her laughter faded and any colour that was left on her face vanished. “What?” her voice was quiet, barely audible. “But I thought…all the penance. I thought… Tell me it isn’t true.”

 

“You are damned,” Brother Daniel confirmed. “No one will want you, neither man nor Church. You are completely at the mercy of Philippe. But rest assured, I believe he has every intention of protecting you. I will not lie to you, my dear, you will be shunned, even with the King’s support. The chances of you marrying again are very slim.”

 

“I wasn’t looking for a new husband,” Amandine said as she tried to make sense of Brother Daniel’s words.

 

“It also means that you will never be able to leave the protection of the castle. The protection of this room.”

 

Amandine scoffed with realisation. “I am to be Philippe’s prisoner? Why don’t you just say what you mean?”

 

“You are not his prisoner, think of it as being his special guest. This is for your own protection. Many would see you hang or worse. I have spoken to the King. Alan will be in charge of your safety from now on. Philippe thought you would find no fault in that, as you and Alan appear to be on good terms. Amandine, you must understand there are many who saw what you did the day Merton died. They saw how you were dressed in his clothes. They saw how you threw yourself at him. How you got down on your knees and begged the King for mercy on Merton’s behalf. They saw how Merton reacted when you were threatened. And those who didn’t will have listened when the Abbot condemned you. You are a fallen woman, a threat to their good Christian souls. Our main concern now is keeping you alive. You must never leave this room. Ever.”

 

“But I thought—”

 

“That you were doing penance? So you have said. Did you really think that the Abbot was going to pardon you of all your sins? Oh, Amandine, you are not stupid. He was never going to give you absolution.”

 

Amandine shook her head, and she began to wring her hands together in despair.

 

“You must be strong,” Brother Daniel reached across and stilled her hands with his. “And brave. Just like our Lord Jesus was in those darkest of days. Remember, he too was condemned for a crime he did not commit.” He smiled at her and squeezed her hands. “I must leave you now. I shall make sure some food is brought up, but it will be tested before you eat it, so do not fear about being poisoned.”

 

“Poisoned?” Amandine gasped, she had not even thought of that.

 

“You need to rest and regain your strength.” Brother Daniel rose to his feet and smiled down at her. “I will be back tomorrow to listen to your confession.”

 

“If I am damned, then what need do I have to confess?” Amandine asked, staring defiantly back at the monk. “Besides,” she looked away, “I consort with demons. I am evil. I am a sinner. My soul will burn in Hell. I will be damned forever—”

 

“Ask for mercy, and you will receive it,” Brother Daniel stated, interrupting her.

 

“I have,” Amandine challenged back, “and look where that has got me.”

 

Buy Links

Coming soon…

 

In the meantime, catch up on the rest of the series on Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Anne-Yarde/e/B01C1WFATA

 

Mary Anne Yarde Head Shot

 

Author Biography

Mary Anne Yarde is an award-winning author of the International Bestselling series — The Du Lac Chronicles.

Yarde grew up in the southwest of England, surrounded and influenced by centuries of history and mythology. Glastonbury–the fabled Isle of Avalon–was a mere fifteen-minute drive from her home, and tales of King Arthur and his knights were part of her childhood.

 

Social Media Links

Blog

https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.co.uk/

 

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/maryanneyarde/

 

Twitter

https://twitter.com/maryanneyarde

 

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15018472.Mary_Anne_Yarde

 

Amazon Author Page

https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Anne-Yarde/e/B01C1WFATA

 

Now Available in #Audiobook — Do You Solemnly Swear by @LinWilder #thriller #crime #IARTG


PW-lin wilder solemnly audio version full page 2

 

Audiobook Title Do You Solemnly Swear? A Nation of Law-The Dark Side

Author Lin Wilder

Genre crime, legal fiction, mystery

 

Book Blurb

What if your former girlfriend decides to use her 6-year-old daughter to punish you for breaking up with her?

 

How do you prove that you are innocent of the worst case of sexual perversion against a child?

 

Is it possible to refute the lies of a beautiful, seemingly innocent, little girl?

 

When Gabe McAllister, decorated former Marine and respected Texas State Trooper, walked out of his condo in West Houston on a Tuesday morning to head to a meeting of the newly formed task force of the DEA, Texas State Police and Border Patrol, he found five Houston cops waiting to collar him for the rape of 6-year-old Annie Bridges.

 

His next several days and weeks are a blur as he realizes belatedly that he has no chance against his diminutive accuser. His implicit trust in the fairness of the justice system shattered, McAllister lands in the Huntsville prison, sentenced to three counts of 20-to-life sentences.

 

In the sequel to The Fragrance Shed By a Violet, Lin Wilder embroils characters in another complex web of dysfunctional family, deceit, revenge, and the politics of courtrooms. Pulitzer Prize reporter Kate Townsend’s front page story for her newspaper, The Houston Tribune, about a juror – the foreman of McAllister’s jury – stepping forward to speak about the case and her concern about why McAllister was not granted a retrial, galvanizes Houstonians once again: Had a Houston jury convicted another innocent person?

 

Dr. Lindsey McCall, former inmate at Huntsville and now Medical Director at the Prisons, and Rich Jansen, Chief Warden at the prisons, are faced with the all-too-familiar question of just how involved should they get as Townsend begins to dig into the background of little Annie Bridges and her mother. When Townsend reveals the details of her new investigative series: A Nation of Law: The Dark Side, Jansen is more than intrigued.

 

 

Sample of Audio

 

 

Buy Links

Amazon UShttps://www.amazon.com/Do-You-Solemnly-Swear-Nation/dp/B0758DFX37/ref=tmm_aud_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1504551962&sr=8-1

 

Audible https://www.audible.com/pd/Mysteries-Thrillers/Do-You-Solemnly-Swear-Audiobook/B0758GVZG8/ref=a_newreleas_c2_7_i

 

Lin Wilder

 

Author Biography

Lin Wilder holds a Doctorate in Public Health and has published extensively in fields like cardiac physiology, institutional ethics and hospital management. In 2005, she switched from non-fiction to fiction. Her series of medical thrillers include many references to the Texas Medical Center where Lin worked for over twenty-three years. Her latest book is A Price for Genius. Finding the Narrow Path was an unplanned return to non-fiction. All her books are available at Amazon.

 

Social Media Links

https://www.facebook.com/lincwilder/

https://twitter.com/LinWilder

https://www.linkedin.com/in/wilderbooks/

 

To save. To guard. To heal. More Than Human Box Set by @libraryoferana #fantasy #SFF #books


More than Human 3 d

 

Title: More than Human – 11 e-book Box Set

 

Authors:

The Shining Citadel – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/shining-citadel  A. L. Butcher

 

Technological Angel – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/technological-angel – Barbara G. Tarn

 

Needle-Green – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/needle-green Debbie Mumford

 

The Cartographer’s Daughter – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/cartographers-daughter  Karen L. Abrahamson

 

Serpent’s Foe – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/serpents-foe  J.M. Ney-Grimm

 

The Crystal Courtesan – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/crystal-courtesan Karen L. Abrahamson

 

The First Book of Old Mermaids Tales – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/first-book-old-mermaids-tales Kim Antieau

 

The Guardians – Book 1 – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/guardians-book-1  Don Viecelli

 

Love Apidae (A Recumon Story) – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/love-apidae-recumon-story Michael R. E. Adams

 

The Flat Above the Wynd – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/flat-above-wynd Alexandra Brandt

 

The Kitchen Imps and Other Dark Tales – https://bundlerabbit.com/products/detail/kitchen-imps-other-dark-tales A. L. Butcher

 

 More than Human Add Shining Citadel

 

Genre: Fantasy/Scifi/Specfic

 

Book Blurb:

To save. To guard. To heal.

 

Beloved people, precious things, and sacred spaces move our hearts and inspire us to defend them.

 

In these tales of redemption and rescue, more-than-human heroes stand forth as champions to protect all that is worthy of protection.

 

Walk with these elves, imps, wizards, dryads, gods, and guardians as they subdue demons, free the enslaved, preserve the world, comfort the exiled, and cross swords with the dark. Read and revel in their triumphs and tribulations.

 

Excerpt:

EXCERPT – Barbara G Tarn – Technological Angel

 

Kol-ian realized Chantal had noticed the black lines on his back when she touched them, puzzled, and her thoughts went in question-mode again. He rolled on his back and pulled her over him, pretending not to know.

 

“What are those black marks?” she asked.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Claude!” she chided. “I haven’t kept anything from you.”

 

Of course, I can read your thoughts, you can’t keep anything from me, he thought. “I’m keeping a lot from you and will hold to most of my secrets,” he replied. “There are things about me you could never understand.”

 

“Men and women can’t understand each other because they come from different planets,” she retorted. “But they can learn to accept each other’s differences.”

 

He chuckled. She had no idea how fitting the comparison was for the two of them.

 

“What’s funny?” She frowned. “I’m serious. I’m ready to accept anything you tell me.”

 

“I doubt it,” he said. “When I told you where I was born, you didn’t believe me.”

 

“Of course, you said you were born on another planet!”

 

“That I am. My real name is Kol-ian. Happy now?”

 

She gaped at him, then gulped down her surprise. “You can’t be extraterrestrial, you’re so… human!”

 

“Really?” He pushed her back on the bed, rolling on his side to face her. It had been some time since this little game of his. The last one to see it had been a hot Spanish girl half a dozen local years earlier.

 

He opened his wings. Five seconds and the dark shadow of nanotechnology displayed the black wings behind him, taking her breath away. Featherless wings, artificial wings, but still wings, of a material and technology unavailable on the planet. Advanced implants that had cost him more than he cared to think about.

 

Excerpt from Serpent’s Foe – J.M, Ney-Grimm

 

Abruptly she returned to herself.

 

Where had she been?

 

The desert spaces of a dream, hunting as a lioness should? She didn’t know. But this dim-lit vault looked different through waking eyes than dreaming ones.

 

Why didn’t they sweep the floors?

 

Sand lay on the flat stone expanse in patches of dusty sparkles. The whole complex cried out for a scouring. Rust coated the iron bars of the cages, from their tops, anchored in the sandstone ceiling, to their bases, sunk into rock. Dung decorated the corners.

 

And the carcass of her last meal rotted against the bars separating her from the jackal next door. That black-coated beast gnawed at the bloody remains, his snout poked through a gap.

 

Fah! She lifted her forepaw fastidiously to lick it clean.

 

Movement diagonally across the broad corridor caught her eye. Another feline – a cheetah, not a lion – paced.

 

Back and forth.

 

Back and forth.

 

Prowling restlessly.

 

This is no place for me and mine. I, who carry the sun in my eyes by night.

 

She was caged, she who was meant to be free.

 

Who had perpetrated this outrage?

 

She shifted the bulk of her feline body, feeling the press of the cool stone floor against her flank. She lay in the exact center of her square enclosure, avoiding the bars – cold and radiating evil.

 

She’d been hunting, surely. Before she woke to this zoo. Or was she dreaming now of her imprisonment?

 

In her earlier dream, the grey shades of moonless night had enfolded her.

 

Tall strands of sun-dried grasses rustled in the almost-not-there breeze, brushing against her pelt. The bass rumble of bullfrogs mingled with splashing sounds. A rank smell of river mud crept close to the ground, closer than she.

 

Fah!

 

Her limbs were made for crouching, for stalking, for lunging from cover.

 

The faint scent of her prey traced through the cool air rising off the Nile.

 

Not ibis. Not hippo. Not croc.

 

Something . . . tastier.

 

She lunged, hindquarters powering her forward, fore claws outstretched, ready to rend as she batted her meal to the ground.

 

Its nest lay empty – a trammeled area of matted reeds where the red deer had slept.

 

But not now.

 

Now it fled, zigzagging, its tail a flag in the night.

 

She gave chase. I will feast!

 

Nearer and nearer.

 

Her muscles bunched, then extended, driving her close.

 

The smell of the creature’s submission lent her strength, transforming the draining pain of her hunger into her pounce.

 

And then the very air lay empty.

 

Where . . . ?

 

No spoor on the mud. No scent on the breeze. No thud of panicked hooves in the ear.

 

Utterly gone.

 

From where would her feast come now?

 

Yet not all scent had vanished.

 

Behind her, a fresh aroma threaded the night: musty, dry, a whisper of fear.

 

She, the hunter, was hunted. The knowledge shivered through her empty belly.

 

 

Alexandra Brandt – Flat Above the Wynd Excerpt

 

A faint glow pulsed from the Far-Seeing Eye, and Sky welcomed the chance to stop rubbing her temples and look at her first location for patrol.

 

She picked up the circle of normally-milky glass and peered into it. The misty depths had cleared, revealing…the foot of her own stairs?

 

She frowned and shook it. The Eye had never done that before.

 

Grimacing, Sky stood and drew on her faded green summer-weight anorak, stuffing the disc of glass into a hidden inner pocket and tucking Ram’s jumble of amulets down her shirt. She checked her glamour in the mirror—yes, still the ordinary brown skin and brown eyes of a mid-thirty-ish East Indian woman; no odd blue eyes or furred, plume-like tail to be seen—and grumbled to herself as she exited the flat and headed for the stairs.

 

Because of the twisty nature of the stairwell, Sky almost ran into the girl standing at the base, frowning down at a slip of paper in her hand. A slight, dark-haired teenager with a pretty face, possibly Japanese heritage. Ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with some rock band or another, heavy satchel over one shoulder.

 

Sky knew her instantly.

 

The girl looked up and her eyes widened. “You!”

 

Sky tried to school her shock into something calmer. She had never thought she’d see this child again.

 

Not after what they’d been through, merely three weeks before.

 

“What are you doing here?” Sky asked, her mind racing. At the back of her head, a thought began to flash, a reminder of the Wynd law she had just read. The rules she had broken with this very human girl. And now, a sudden, serendipitous opportunity to fix things.

 

With Wynd magic, serendipity should always be highly suspect.

 

More than Human montage

 

Buy Links:

https://bundlerabbit.com/b/more-than-human

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0751Z8YKK/

https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/more-than-human-10

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/more-than-human-a-l-butcher/1126995921?ean=2940158967016

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/more-than-human/id1273619657?mt=11

 

Author 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.

 

 

For the other authors please check out their links on Bundle Rabbit.

 

 

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

 

She Came With the Tide by @ViviMackade #romance #suspense #books


She came the tide

 

Title She Came With The Tide

Author  Viviana MacKade

Genre Contemporary Romance with a dash of Suspense

 

Book Blurb

Andrea

 

I stopped breathing a long time ago.

 

I was taken into a cult when I was ten, married to the leader’s son at 20.

 

I learned to fear independence, so I stayed.

 

Day after day after day.

 

Until I couldn’t anymore.

 

So I started running and kept running because he’s after me.

 

Afraid, alone, hungry, but free.

 

Until a stranger offered me breakfast. And I said yes.

 

 

Erik

The thing I can do best? Living. Hard and to the fullest.

 

The world had screamed my name, and I lived it all until I got tired of it.

 

Bought a surf board, a house in my sandy hometown, and started another great life.

 

Young, rich, and totally free had been working like a charm.

 

Until I saw that blue tent on the beach.

 

And my life changed again.

 

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

 

Crescent Creek, South Florida, May

 

“Well.” Erik Axelsson wiped salty water from his face. “Look what the tide dragged in.”

 

Nestled in the dunes edging his property, the little blue tent sure hadn’t been there when he’d gone out surfing earlier that morning. With his board under his arm, he walked out of the ocean toward the uninvited guest.

 

Erik cringed, praying it wasn’t for one of those crappy TV shows like Where Did The Star Go or something. He had worked hard at building a normal life, and it had been years since the press had bothered him. Yet a nostalgic willing to stand the heat for a picture of Ax had shown up before.

 

“Knock knock,” Erik called out as he reached the tent.

 

When nothing happened, he drove the surfboard in the hot sand with a forceful swing and a chuckle. Whoever hid inside the camping igloo was too hung-over or too stoned to wake up. Each representing a better reason to be in such crappy shelter, on a Floridian beach, on a late May morning, than poking at his past glory. Must be at least three hundred degrees inside.

 

He grabbed a tent pole, shook it. The old thing shuddered like a leaf in a hurricane. “Rise and shine,” he sing-songed.

 

Someone moved. Then came the voice. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

“A girl?” he mouthed before shaking his head.

 

Erik brushed his palm over prickling shoulders as the angry sun hit, leaving only salt where ocean drops had been a few minutes before. He revered in that roasting pleasure, in the blues of the sky and water surrounding him. Entertained by his unplanned guest, he pulled his dripping, long hair into a messy bun. A good day for surfing, waves still crashed on the shoreline. The rumble must have hidden the croaky noise of the tent’s zipper because when he looked down at the entrance, he found two huge brown eyes staring at him. An echo of lifetimes ago, distant, feeble, poked at him. The feeling had dwelled into his heart after his parents had died and now lingered on her delicate features. Fear.

 

The girl took a breath, clenched her teeth, and crawled out. She rose on all of her five feet six or so. “Who–” she cleared her throat. “Who are you?”

 

Okay. He did not expect the question. The whole world knew Ax and the Hurricanes. He’d spent ten years of his life on everybody’s mouth, eyes and above all, ears. Newspapers. TV. Concerts. And the girl asked who he was. Surprise shadowed the male appreciation of the woman in front of him. For now. He’ll so be back at it.

 

“I think the question is, who are you?” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“A camper.”

 

“Well, camper, your tent is on my property, in case you missed that,” he said, pointing at the Private Property notice on the berm not far from her den. The rusty, barely visible, Pisa-tower-bend sign. He should invest some money into a new one. “My house’s back there, anyway.”

 

She turned around, took those details in. “Oh.”

 

All right, calculus time. A girl, alone, in an old tent. Add a black bag he’d peeked to with clothes in it, plus that look in her eyes. The result? Trouble. “All right. You hungry?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

 

 

Buy Links

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074ZFTQCL?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B074ZFTQCL?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B074ZFTQCL?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

viviana pitino

 

Author Biography

Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.

 

Social Media Links

www.viviana-mackade.blog

 

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100011982152461

 

https://twitter.com/ViviMackade

 

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01KKY6WLQ