#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: Kwanzaa Angel by @shailstock #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - KA

 

Title:                Kwanzaa Angel

 

Author:           Shirley Hailstock

 

Genre: Romance

 

Book Blurb: 

Erin Scott withstood the humiliation of being abandoned at a high school prom by the man of her dreams. Channelling her personal feelings into work, Erin opened a department store which now flourishes and is about to expand. Just as her family gathers for the Kwanzaa celebration, her nemesis returns to town, opening old wounds and throwing her life in to passionate chaos.

Raimi Price regretted his decision almost as soon as he made it, but he couldn’t undo it. Now sixteen years later he’s back, hoping to stay, but reconciling with Erin Scott is a major priority. When he discovers they are both bidding on the same piece of property, his romantic plans stall. Then history threatens to repeat itself complicating matters more.

Can these two bridge the gap and find a lasting love?

 

Excerpt:

“Can you help me?” Erin Scott felt the tug on her skirt and heard the little voice at the same time. She turned away from the stack of sweaters she’d folded and refolded at least seven times that day. The store was crowded with people taking advantage of the after-Christmas sales. Behind Erin stood a little girl about seven years old with long dark braids.

 

“My uncle said it was all right to ask a stranger for help as long as I went to the stranger and they did not come to me,” her young voice explained. “He also said a lady would be better than a man.”

 

Erin smiled as she stooped to the child’s level. “Your uncle must be a very good parent,” she told her.

 

“Oh, he’s not a parent. He has only me. I’m his favorite niece.” She said it with all the adultness a seven-year-old could muster. Erin stifled a laugh.

 

“Are you lost?”

 

“No, ma’am.” She shook her head from side to side.  The long braids, clipped with red barrettes, slapped at her face. She had bangs that flowed dark and engaging to her eyebrows and eyelashes that Erin wished were her own. “I know where I am.”

 

“Then how can I help you?”

 

“It’s my uncle. He’s lost.” She checked over her shoul­der. “He was buying a gift and I looked around. Then he was gone.”

 

Erin glanced about the store. Everyone was buying something. It was the second largest shopping day of the year, equal only to Black Friday. The store was so crowded Erin had left her office to join the sales staff.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll find him. Now what’s your name?”

 

“Alicia Marie Allen.”

 

She spoke distinctly, like she’d learned her name in nursery school.

 

“Okay, Alicia Marie Allen, my name is Erin.” She pointed to the small white name tag pinned to the lapel of her red suit.

 

“May I call you Erin?”

 

Erin nodded.

 

“My uncle makes me call big people Ms. or Mrs.”

 

Erin smiled broadly. She wanted to hug the child. “Well maybe in my case, he’ll make an exception. Now what’s your uncle’s name?”

 

“Uncle Raimi.”

 

Erin stiffened. She lost her balance, putting her hand on the floor to keep from falling. It couldn’t be him, she told herself.

 

“Uncle Raimi Price?” Erin asked, grasping at a straw, knowing she was wrong even before the child’s head bobbed up and down.

 

“Uncle Raimi Price,” the child confirmed with the same aplomb with which she’d given her own name.

 

Erin caught her gasp before it escaped. Raimi Price was in her store. What was he doing here? When had he returned to Cranbury, New Jersey, and why did no one mention he was in town?

 

The rumor mill here was as lively as it was in any small community. Cranbury was only a few miles square. She could walk it end to end in under an hour. Yet the grape­vine had failed to get word to her that the man who’d dumped her at the senior prom was back and likely to cross paths with her at any moment.

 

The small hamlet in the center of the state was quiet and reserved with only a meager area they could call down­town. On any summer evening you could find people walk­ing down the streets. At this time of year, they admired the holiday decorations and store scenes. Erin’s store sat in the center of town, near the lake. When she’d bought the old warehouse building, people called her idea crazy, but today those same people shopped there regularly and spoke to her with a smile and a nod. Any one of them could have told her Raimi was back. Yet none of them had. Had they forgotten what happened to her? It was years ago. She was thirty-two now, no longer a sophomore, and no longer in love with Raimi Price. But the pain of his humiliation would live with her forever.

 

What would Raimi’s presence change? Would they remember what he’d done to her? Of course they would, she told herself. It was a hazard of living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone else and memories were long.

 

“Do you think we could look for him?” The little voice brought her back to her position on the floor.

 

“I’ll—I’ll get someone to find him,” Erin stammered.

 

“There he is.” Alicia’s voice rose with excitement, and she scampered off toward him. Erin wanted to turn away, but she was crouched on the floor. She stood up slowly, fear making her heart beat faster, waiting for that moment when he’d make eye contact with her, the moment he recognized who she was.

 

In one hand Raimi had a shopping bag with the store’s logo on its side. With the grace of a large cat, he knelt to the floor and received the running child. Erin watched him hug her, then push her away, saying something repri­manding before pulling her against his chest and hugging her again. Finally, he stood, taking the child with him, holding her with only one arm. The other he used to pick up the shopping bag.

 

Erin hadn’t seen Raimi Price since his last day of high school, sixteen years ago. He’d humiliated her so badly at the senior prom that she never wanted to see him again. Yet here he stood, looking directly at her.

 

He hadn’t changed much in sixteen years. As a seventeen-year-old, he was the best-looking guy in school: tall, athletic, tight buns. At thirty-four any boyishness he had had long since vanished. The man approaching her was blindingly sexy. His skin was dark and rich like smooth silk. His hair was thick, closely cut, and he wore a small mustache. He still had that outdoor athletic look. Erin remembered thinking he reminded her of a Montana cow­boy—rugged, strong, capable-of-anything—and how she’d wanted those strong, capable arms banded about her body.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$10.00 Amazon Gift Card and e-book copy of A Very Romantic Christmas

(plus more prizes…)

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Buy Links:      

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B008GYNI56/shirleyhailstofb-20

Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kwanzaa-angel-shirley-hailstock/1111941880?ean=2940014669191

iBooks – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/kwanzaa-angel/id635082663?mt=11

Kobo – http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Kwanzaa-Angel/book-mMXD4E_iuUu_MKAEVoXJLw/page1.html?s=juEtCqpWvk616Lvgcuo75A&r=3

Google – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Shirley_Hailstock_Kwanzaa_Angel?id=KDqvBAAAQBAJ

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition: 

For Christmas I love Sweet Potato Pie.  As a tradition, at the first snowfall of the season, I bake cinnamon rolls.

 

SHIRLEY WITH BOOK - 14C

 

Author Biography:       

Shirley Hailstock began her writing life as a lover of reading.  She likes nothing better than to find a quiet corner where she can get lost in a book, explore new worlds and visit places she never expected to see.  As an author, she can not only visit those places, but she can be the heroine of her own stories.  The author of more than thirty novels and novellas, including her electronic editions, Shirley has received numerous awards, including the Borders Bestselling Romance Award and Romantic Times Magazine‘s Career Achievement Award.  Shirley’s books have appeared on Blackboard, Essence Magazine, Amazon.com and Library Journal Best Seller Lists.  She is a past president of Romance Writers of America.

 

Social Media Links:

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

Twitter – https://twitter.com/shailstock

Tumblr – https://shailstock.tumblr.com/

Wattpad – https://www.wattpad.com/user/shailstock

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/shailstock/

Email: shirleyhailstockfan@gmail.com

Newsletter: https://madmimi.com/signups/136297/join

Website – http://www.ShirleyHailstock.net

 

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: Christmas Bizarre by @funnyauthor #COZYMYSTERY #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - CB

 

Title: Christmas Bizarre

 

Author: Lizz Lund

 

Genre: Humorous Mystery; Cozy Mystery

 

Book Blurb:

What do Santa’s Sidekick, a dead lawyer and a geriatric vampire have in common? Meet Mina Kitchen–a forty-something single who finds trouble quicker than she can whip up a batch of breakfast breads. Plural. Her catering disorder runs neck-and-neck with her weird luck, and her cat’s weirder tendency toward gnawing elf gear. Okay, and getting kidnapped a couple of times in one week is a little strange, too.

 

Excerpt:

I slipped into a panic and ran around the basement like my hair was on fire. I stubbed my toe and fell onto a workhorse, throwing planks and hardware everywhere.

 

Bernie stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “I’m a vampire, Tina, we don’t do sex. Truth is, we can’t.”

 

“Fabulous. Dolores must be thrilled.”

 

“It’s not my fault!”

 

“Of course not. It happens to a lot of men your age.”

 

“You don’t understand. We’re separated!”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“I’m not sorry! I did it on purpose! To save her! In case I forgot myself.”

 

“Forgot yourself?” I asked, immediately wishing I’d kept my big mouth shut.

 

“I couldn’t suck the life blood out of my better half, could I? It’s not her fault I turned into a vampire. We’ve been married for fifty-three years!”

 

“Congrats.”

 

“Congratulate me in the afterlife, you stupid blood-pumping piece of flesh!” Bernie lunged at me, and we went tumbling. My head narrowly missed a pile of broken cinderblock, and connected with the cement floor instead.

 

I blinked a few times as I came to, dimly realizing that Bernie was sucking on my neck.

 

“Yecch!” I pushed him off and shoved him away. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“I’m feeding!”

 

“You have no teeth!”

 

“Crap. You’re right. I left them upstairs in the glass. Be right back.” He hustled away for his gun and leaped up the steps, locking the door behind him.

 

I rubbed my neck and wiped away his spit. “Pretty spry for an old guy.”

 

“Quick! Can you barricade the door?” Tina asked.

 

I grabbed the flashlight and looked around. “There’s a bunch of cinderblocks, but I don’t think I have time to lift enough of them. Besides I can barely see.”

 

Tina thumped her head against the pole. “My luck, I gonna die with a stiff and a piss bucket while you get gummed to death.”

 

“I know, I know. This is pretty bad.”

 

Tina stopped thumping and sat up a bit. “The delivery place is going to be looking for that guy, sooner or later. What we need to do is guarantee us being here later.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“So this is what you’re gonna do…”

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

FREE e-copies of Christmas Bizarre July 19-22 (click buy link below to take advantage)

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

 

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Bizarre-Humorous-Mystery-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00MPMOVBU/

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

Glugg (without lighting my eyebrows on fire).  “It’s A Wonderful Life” and “Best Years of Our Lives” followed by Cosmos and stand-up comic binge watching…

 

Author Biography:

Lizz Lund loves Lancaster. Since 1999, she’s been having a terrific time here and thinks everyone else should, too. Lizz grew up in New Jersey and imported her chef husband from their old stomping grounds – he still hasn’t recovered. She holds a BA in Musical Theatre from Syracuse University, but has never learned to waitress–although she knows, “it’s an art.”

 

Social Media Links:

www.LizzLund.com

lizzlund.author@gmail.com

@funnyauthor (twitter)

https://www.facebook.com/Lizz-Lund-Author-196043317079329/ (facebook)

“that’s the thing about reunions…” Who We Were by @LindsayDetwiler #romanticcomedy #chicklit


Print

 

Title:  Who We Were

Author: Lindsay Detwiler

Genre: Chick Lit/Romantic Comedy

Publisher: Hot Tree Publishing

 

Book Blurb:

I guess that’s the thing about high school reunions, though. They make you snap a little.”

In the ten years since high school graduation, Maylee’s career, living arrangements, family, and especially her love life are at a standstill. When her twin brother, Mitch, falls for her high school enemy at their ten-year reunion, Maylee’s life is catapulted into chaos.

Maylee’s hatred for the blonde-haired Josephine isn’t the only thing she discovers at her reunion. Benson Drake, the introvert from high school, has matured into a sexy intellect. Now a writer and bartender, Benson’s grown into a man with a perfect balance of quirky wit and sex appeal. After a wardrobe malfunction, a spy mission gone wrong, and a dangerous cup of coffee, Maylee and Benson explore something they never even thought about during senior year. Along the way, they find out that reconnecting with the past can change you… or maybe just help you find your true self.

 

 

Excerpt:

I guess that’s the thing about high school reunions, though. They make you snap a little. At least I can admit to it. This has to be the first step to admitting psychosis, right?

 

Mitch thinks I’ve taken it too far. Shauni, of course, thinks I’m doing the right thing.

 

“Show those snotty jerks just what you’ve become,” she told me yesterday. “Especially the blonde. Show her you’ve won.”

 

I’d smiled, munching on my lunch of celery and carrot sticks in my attempt to shed a few more ounces of water weight. Nevertheless, the whole time I was asking myself a very hard question: Have I really won? If I’m going to so much trouble to fool my classmates into thinking I’ve done so well for myself, aren’t there deeper problems than booblessness and a flabby waistline?

 

Maybe the problem isn’t my body type, my hair, or any of it. Maybe it’s because at twenty-eight, I thought life would be a little different, a little bit more… grown-up.

 

Looking in the mirror, however, I know I can’t pretend to be all introspective and mature about it. Even though I know it’s ridiculous, there’s a part of me deep down that does want to show her I’ve done okay for myself, no matter what. I want the girl who tortured me in high school, who convinced me I was a mousey nerd, to realize I blossomed.

 

Even if it is a bit of a lie. Or a lot of a lie.

 

“Let’s go,” Mitch yells from the living room. I sigh.

 

No more introspection. It’s go time.

 

It’s time to face my past.

 

Buy Links:

All links: books2read.com/who-we-were

 

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2hWxCjg

 

Amazon UK: www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01MZ0BJPL

 

Amazon AU: www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01MZ0BJPL

 

Amazon CA: www.amazon.ca/dp/B01MZ0BJPL

 

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1186791780

 

Nook: http://www.bn.com/w/1125334111

 

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/au/en/ebook/who-we-were-4

 

Lindsay Detwiler

 

Author Biography:

An English teacher, an author, and a fan of anything pink and/or glittery, Lindsay’s the English teacher cliché; she loves cats, reading, Shakespeare, and Poe.

She currently lives in her hometown with her husband, Chad (her junior high sweetheart); their cats, Arya, Amelia, Alice, Marjorie, and Bob; and their Mastiff, Henry.

Lindsay’s goal with her writing is to show the power of love and the beauty of life while also instilling a true sense of realism in her work. Some reviewers have noted that her books are not the “typical romance.” With her novels coming from a place of honesty, Lindsay examines the difficult questions, looks at the tough emotions, and paints the pictures that are sometimes difficult to look at. She wants her fiction to resonate with readers as realistic, poetic, and powerful. Lindsay wants women readers to be able to say, “I see myself in that novel.” She wants to speak to the modern woman’s experience while also bringing a twist of something new and exciting. Her aim is for readers to say, “That could happen,” or “I feel like the characters are real.” That’s how she knows she’s done her job.

Lindsay’s hope is that by becoming a published author, she can inspire some of her students and other aspiring writers to pursue their own passions. She wants them to see that any dream can be attained and publishing a novel isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

 

Social Media Links:

http://www.facebook.com/lindsayanndetwiler

 

http://www.lindsaydetwiler.com

 

http://www.twitter.com/lindsaydetwiler

 

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvz8hP-eesFMprJuG0a4ZzA

 

 

The Duchess and the Highwayman by @BeverleyOakley #historicalromance #books #romance


The Duchess and the Highwayman image

 

Title: The Duchess and the Highwayman

Author: Beverley Oakley

Genre: Historical Romance

 

Book Blurb:

A duchess disguised as a lady’s maid; a gentleman parading as a highwayman.

She’s on the run from a murderer, he’s in pursuit of one…

 

In a remote Norfolk manor, Phoebe, Lady Cavanaugh is wrongfully accused by her servants of her brutal husband’s murder.

 

There’s little sympathy in the district for the duchess who’s taken a lover and made clear she despised her husband. The local magistrate has also vowed revenge since Lady Cavanaugh rebuffed his advances.

 

When Phoebe is discovered in the forest wearing only a chemise stained with the blood of her murdered husband, she persuades the noble ‘highwayman’ who rescues her that she is Lady Cavanaugh’s maidservant.

 

Hugh Redding has his own reasons for hunting down the man who would have Phoebe tried and hanged for murder. He plans to turn ‘the maidservant with aspirations above her station’ into the ‘lady’ who might testify against the very villain who would see Phoebe dead.

 

But despite the fierce attraction between Phoebe and the ‘highwayman’, Phoebe is not in a position to admit she’s the ‘murderous duchess’ hunted across the land.

 

Seizing an opportunity to strike at the social and financial standing of the man who has profited by her distress, Phoebe is drawn into a dangerous intrigue.

 

But when disaster strikes, she fears Hugh will lack the sympathy or understanding of her unusual predicament to even want to save her a second time.

 

 

Excerpt:

Chapter One

 

It was an evening like any other: dull with a hint of menace and tension so thick Phoebe imagined slicing a neat hole in it and disappearing magically into a new life.

 

Any would do.

 

The company had retired to the dim, close drawing room, gentlemen included, following a gluttonous dinner. By the fireplace Phoebe worked at her embroidery, glad to be ignored though she knew that wouldn’t last for long.

 

The reprieve was even briefer than she’d anticipated. Brutus exhaled on a shuddering snore truncated by a yelp as he chased rabbits in his dreams; this caused James the footman, who was stooping over Ulrick in the act of offering his master a drink, to jump in fright and deposit a snifter of brandy upon her husband’s waistcoat. Not that it would concern Ulrick who was snoring more loudly than Brutus and whose waistcoat was already stained with drool.

 

The footman cast the mistress a sideways glance as he unwound his lordship’s stock and dabbed at the sticky mess but Phoebe held her tongue and made do with a dispassionate look. She’d never liked James. She was certain he’d conspired with Ulrick on more than a few occasions to put her on the back foot and to tarnish her name below stairs. Despite her obvious disdain, she was afraid of the power he wielded.

 

“That will be all, James.” She rose with a dismissive wave and the rustle of silken skirts.

 

“I’ll attend to my husband. Please see Mr Barnaby and Sir Roderick out.”

 

Sir Roderick, that most unwelcome of neighbours, appeared before her, bony and wraithlike; malevolent as ever. “I believe your dog that needs more attention than Lord Cavanaugh.” His thin mouth turned up in a parody of amusement as he wafted a fastidious hand about his nose, indicating Brutus’s greater guilt than his master’s snoring.

 

Phoebe offered Sir Roderick a cold smile. On the other side of the room Ulrick’s two other guests conversed in low voices by the window.

 

She inclined her head as she ignored his attempt at levity. “Good night, Sir Roderick.”

Sir Roderick straightened his spare, weedy frame, which she saw trembled with supressed outrage at being so summarily dismissed by the lady of the house.

 

Phoebe refused to turn away from his challenging gaze. Sir Roderick was another who couldn’t wait until the doors of Blinley Manor were closed against her the moment Ulrick breathed his last. She’d offended his honour, having bitten his lip and kneed him in the groin six months before when he’d accosted her in a dimly lit corridor and suggested in lewd terms how he might assist in the creation of an heir for the already ailing Ulrick. An heir that would ensure Phoebe kept a roof over her head.

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon- http://amzn.to/2tccnQu

 

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

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: A Christmas Accident by @Melissa_Keir #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - ACA

 

Title: A Christmas Accident

 

Author: Melissa Keir

 

Genre: Contemporary, Small-Town Romance

 

Book Blurb:

Expecting her first child, Sherri Wilder Davison wants nothing more than to spend time with her father over the holidays, but fate has a way of changing her best-laid plans.

 

Adam Davison is willing to do anything to make his pregnant wife happy. He will face hell to have her home for the holidays.

 

For Sherri and Adam, the holidays are a time of celebration and love, but this Christmas will be unlike any they have ever faced.

 

When a horrible blizzard causes an automobile accident that puts the lives of those Sherri loves on the line, can a Christmas miracle save them?

 

Excerpt:

The arctic blast of freezing snow turned Route 2 into a sheet of ice, making travel almost impossible. The drive from Michigan shouldn’t have taken more than three or four hours, but the harsh winter weather increased our time. We’d passed through Sandusky and were almost to Amherst, however, the conditions were continuing to worsen. Peanut was quiet in my tummy as if he too, sensed our terror at the horrible circumstances.

 

Looking over at Adam, I could see the strain etched on his face. His normally bright eyes were focused intently on the road, never wavering. His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly. Not wanting to add to his stress, I didn’t speak. The silence in the car was deafening. The only sound came from the windshield wipers swishing against the blizzard conditions.

 

I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. My fear climbed as my heart raced with each pass of the wipers across the window. The smell of stale coffee made my stomach clench.

 

“Adam, maybe we should stop. You know, wait the storm out. I don’t want to put our lives on the line to get to my dad’s.”

 

“We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

 

Suddenly, out of the blizzard, two red lights appeared in front of us. A stopped car stood on the freeway in front of us. The taillights’ bright glare mocked the whiteness of the snowstorm. Adam slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the car, only to have our SUV fishtail before sliding toward the median guardrail. Even in four-wheel drive, the car wasn’t a match for the icy conditions.

 

Adam screamed, “Oh God! Hold on!”

 

Dread filled my chest, as I gripped the armrests and braced my feet flat against the floor. Please let us be okay. Prayers filled my mind as snow whipped past the windshield. The screeching became the last sound I heard as the car’s body skidded against the metal guardrail before flipping, rolling over and over.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

Two e-copies of Forever Love (the first Wilder Sister novella) (plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

http://a.co/aUA8nCX

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

On Christmas Eve, we always went to my father’s side of the family for dinner and presents. It was a special time where we would sing and dance, play games and put on musical shows. My grandparents would cook sauerkraut soup and bake cookies. We’d have special punch and spend time with our cousins. Driving home, we’d “oooh” and “ahh” over the lights on the homes and share our wishes of Christmas Day gifts.

 

Today, my dad still makes sauerkraut soup for my sisters who get together with him each Christmas Eve. Since we live too far to join them, we’ve started a new tradition of going out for Chinese with my husband’s family. Spending time with family is the most special gift of the holiday season.

 

Melissa Keir

 

Author Biography:

Melissa doesn’t believe in down time. She’s always keeping busy. Melissa is a wife and mother, an elementary school teacher, a book reviewer, owner of a publishing company as well as an author. Her home blends two families and is a lot like the Brady Bunch, without Alice. She loves to write stories that feature happy endings and is often seen plotting her next story.

 

She’d love to hear from you! www.melissakeir.com

 

 

Social Media Links:

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

Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/authormelissakeir

Facebook Mod Squad (reader group): https://www.facebook.com/groups/281344902289428/

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

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Melissa-Keir/e/B0078TCJX2

Love #ParanormalRomance? Get 3 Books for only #99cents at #Kobo and #iTunes! @liviaquinn #IARTG


Box Set Destinyt Paramortals 5 EBOOK 03192015 copy

Have you ever felt like you were having one of those dayzzzz?  To say Tempest Pomeroy was having a little trouble with the locals was like saying Katrina dropped a little rain on the Gulf Coast. Only time will tell if her world will right itself, but it’s Destiny after all. And ludicrous is its middle name.

What readers are have said…

“Storm Crazy is awesome! I love this series!” Storm Crazy

“I didn’t want it to end.” Cry Me a River

“Oh My God, I loved this book. Run don’t walk to the buy button…” Eve of Chaos

Blurb:

Storm Lake… Is it Mayberry or Middle Earth?

On the west end of Storm Lake lies Destiny, home of the Paramortals, supernatural beings (fae, djnn, vamps, shifters, even dragons – shh, that’s a secret) living beside humans.

I’m Tempest Pomeroy and my human job is delivering the mail. I come from a family of Tempestaeries and Djnn. Left alone to raise my brother, River, I denied my heritage for years. Now River’s genie bottle is missing, the males in my life are acting crrrazy, and my emotions are threatening to unleash my Tempestaerie powers whether I like it or not.

I turned to a human, Sheriff Jack Lang, a hunky ex-Navy pilot who believes he moved to a normal small town – like Mayberry – to raise his teenage daughter.

As he investigates the strange happenings in the area, it’s inevitable that Jack will be…erm…enlightened about Destiny’s and my true nature. Especially when the locals begin ‘exposing’ their special ‘aptitudes’. Jack says he wants to know everything, but once he does, will he stay and fight for us and the Paramortals, or take the first F-18 out of Middle Earth?

‘Cause there’s a lot of everything

DP box set 99 cent sale

This boxset is on SALE for .99 on Kobo and iTunes. It includes books 1-3 in the Destiny Paramortals: Storm Crazy, Cry Me a River, and Eve of Chaos.

Books 4 & 5 are available on every retailer and book 6 is coming in October

Buy Links:

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/storm-lake-boxset-1-destiny

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/storm-lake-boxset-1-destiny/id1162252896?mt=11

Createspace   https://bit.ly/2sKY0io

 

A Note From Livia:

Well, I blew it, everyone. So sorry. Apparently it takes longer to get the price reduced and our power was knocked out last night so I couldn’t check.

 

BUT when it takes effect sometime today, I’m leaving it free for a week. Normally 5.99-6.99 the book will be .99 until next Tuesday!!

 

And just for your inconvenience, when you comment that you’ve ordered a copy, I’ll enter you in my kindle giveaway for October which I’m announcing on my upcoming newsletter.

 

 

A Sneak Peek:

The rumble beneath my feet was the only notice I had of the electric strike that rode straight up my legs, curling in my midsection and crawling swiftly along my right arm to produce my own version of a Fourth of July sparkler, emanating from that fingertip. Then brilliant bolts of crackling white light spit and sizzled in my palm, sending jagged streamers of hot blue fire ten feet into the air.

I gawked.

A car entering a nearby street freed me from the mesmerizing light display. This was different from any of the charging I’d previously experienced. Bigger. Usually it just sort of replenished on its own. Panicked, I looked over my shoulder, and exhaled. So far so good.

Now what? I needed to command the fire in my hand to… what? Before I could say, “Be gone,” or “Go thither,” the light subsided to a small crackly glow. That was it then. Instinct took over. I knelt beside Mr. Jackson and placed my glowing index finger against his chest. With a single szzwaattt, I zapped him, right in the heart. His chest arched up only the barest of seconds as it met my magical defibrillator, then his body relaxed.

Momentarily deafened and somewhat addled as my faculties came back online, I groped for the pulse in his neck. For a second, I thought I’d failed. But then, his tired, smoke glutted organ started beating.

Thank the gods.

Only the slight whiff of burnt flesh remained on the wind. Drained of energy, I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead. And spotted the mark.

“Zeus’ rechargeable bolts! That better be temporary.”

Centered on the spot where I’d zapped him, a pale image was forming. It looked like a pale, mini version of… well… me.

Livia Quinn Head Shot_M9A0603 square sml copy

About the Author: 

Livia Quinn is a DC native living on the bayou in Louisiana where she gets her inspiration for hunks, storms and all things supernatural. She’s been a plant manager, professional singer, mail lady, salesperson and business owner and has stored up many quirky stories to share with her readers. Visit her website at https://liviaquinn.com   or sign up for her newsletter here http://eepurl.com/W94bb

Social Media Links:

Website: http://liviaquinn.com

Newsletter  http://eepurl.com/W94bb

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

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Meet Award-Winning Author @Rtranbooks as She Imparts #AmWriting Advice #IAN1 #TuesdayBookBlog


R Tran

 

It’s time for another author interview, this time from award-winning author R. Tran. I first met her a month or so ago. I was intrigued by her series and once I got to know her, I knew you’d love her, too. So grab your favorite beverage and sit down for an in-depth interview. She reveals odd writing habits, choosing character name and how to handle reviews, not to mention how cockroaches totally freak her out. Take it away, R. Tran: 

 

Do you have any odd writing habits?

I usually hand-write my manuscripts first. I read them at least two or three times editing as I go before they are typed. Even though it makes writing anywhere more practical it does make deciphering some notes and edits harder at a later point.

 

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

For my fantasy novels, I use both methods. If the character is important I try to find a name with a specific meaning. Mara for example appears in folklore as a goddess of death and also a demon. It seemed fitting based on where her goals laid at the beginning of the novel. Other characters like Kess got his name in the first draft because I liked the way it sounded and I couldn’t imagine him with any other name.

 

In my novel For Their Sins I had to research names from all over the world making sure that each fit with their country of origin or heritage. A name or two belonged to friends or family as well.

 

What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?

I hold two degrees including a doctorate. I have a nice house and a good job. My first two published novels reviewed well and even received an award a piece. Yet, none of that compares to my family. My best accomplishment, by far, is my two daughters. They just turned 4 and 6 and I don’t know where my life would be without them.

 

Have you always liked to write?

No, there was a time I didn’t even want to read. I hated it. If there were cliff notes when I was in school I would have had a whole set. Book reports were like pulling teeth for me. Then one day a friend suggested I read A Wizard’s First Rule by Terry Goodkind. I thought she was joking; it was three inches thick. But, I fell in love with it and with reading again. Soon after my dad died. That same friend was writing a story that she let me read. I thought I could do that. It was better than therapy. Anything was better than therapy when you’re 16. So, I started writing and haven’t stopped since.

 

What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

Don’t be afraid to edit. Cut out dead weight so you can highlight the juicy bits. If it doesn’t do anything for the story or seems irrelevant, cut it.

 

Also get a beta reader or two or five before publishing. I had no idea what that was until about two months ago. My third novel was already advertised and out for pre-purchase on Amazon, it was too late for major changes. I lucked out and most of my problems seem to be small, but things could have gone horribly wrong.

 

Lastly, avoid “to be” verbs. They give a very passive tone to the writing. I think in writing that was the one thing that really stuck with me. My college English professor had a limit on how many we could use in a single essay and yes, she counted them. I’ve read other works that don’t follow this rule and what she said is true. ‘To be” verbs aren’t always necessary, well unless you’re Shakespeare.

 

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 read all my reviews. I do not respond to them except to say thank you. Not everyone will like my book. It’s why I did not publish for so long. But, the reviewer not only read my book; they took that extra time that most readers don’t to tell others what they thought about it. I don’t always agree with what the reviewer says, but I try to see it from my reader’s perspective. Just because I intended something one way doesn’t mean that is how it was received. I try to learn from criticism; it’s the only way I will grow, learn, and do better on my next book.

 

What is your best marketing tip?

If you aren’t used to talking about yourself do so, and I mean now. You are you’re best salesman. I still have a hard time promoting myself in person, although I haven’t had any formal appearances or signings. Still, if some one sees me writing, I use that opportunity to promote myself. I still have a hard time working up the nerve.

 

If you have a Twitter account, pin a tweet promoting your book to the top of your feed. Anytime I look at new authors I want to follow or even help out by retweeting their books, I want to see that first without scrolling through a bunch of random tweets. If I don’t see one right away I give up.

 

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

The Rashade’ and A Guardian Falls combined is my first book. Originally they were written as one massive manuscript. I split it in two to make it more marketable. I prefer reading a long book. I am just getting into a book around 200 pages. However, I realize I am not the norm. So I followed general publishing consensus and split the book in two. The original manuscript was finished in 2002. Since then I have completed 5 more manuscripts and have 6 more in the works.

 

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

Currently I am working on Volume 3 and 4 in The Chronicles of the Coranydas series. I hope to have these published in February and July, 2018. I am also hoping to have the prequel to the same series ready for publication late next year. It will answer a lot of questions for those that read the series. Lastly I want to finish a manuscript that was inspired by the Exodus story in the Bible. That is, if I quit getting sidetracked by the sequel to For Their Sins.

 

And now for some more personal questions…

 

What is your biggest fear?

Cockroaches! I have an irrational fear of cockroaches. I know I am a thousand times bigger than them and all I have to do is step on them but they are gross. I see one and I jump. Even a dead one instills fear in me when my husband chases me with it or throws it at me.

 

What’s on your bucket list (things to do before you die)?

I crossed a lot of them off before the girls were born. But I still want to ride a mechanical bull. I want to visit all 50 states. I want to see the ruins in Greece and Rome. Lastly, I want to ride as many famous and/or record setting roller coasters as I can.

 

Do you have any scars? What are they from?

I have a scar on my right thigh that I’ve had since I was three. I was climbing out of an old galvanized pool and cut it open on the rim that had rusted through.

 

I have another set on the front of my shin that is nearly faded now. I got those when I was 13 and Three Non-Blondes had the biggest hit on the radio. I was canoeing with one of my best friends and our canoe was rolled by a tree branch under the water. As another group of canoers pushed our boat free the front bolts of the canoe scraped long gashes in my leg.

 

I have my C-section scar from my youngest daughter. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

 

Lastly, I have a scar on the inside of my right pinky finger from a wine glass breaking in my hand this summer. Sorry no fun tale there, just good old-fashioned clumsiness.

 

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

I don’t have any recurring dreams now but when I was pregnant with my oldest daughter I did. I had very vivid dreams about zombies. Most of the time I was hunting them, but sometimes I was being chased. I would wake up occasionally still worried there were zombies lurking in my room.

 

 The Rashade award

 

Title: The Rashade’

Author: R.Tran

Genre: Epic Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:

After her father was murdered before her eyes, Mara Coranyda traded a life of privilege, for one devoted to vengeance. Shortly into her quest to find the mage that murdered him, Mara discovered it wouldn’t be an easy task to accomplish. Not only would she have to find the magical artifacts to destroy him, but she would also have to raise an army to stop his conquest of her homelands.

 

Excerpt:

From her roost in the tree, Mara had a clear view of the mouth of the pass. She bent her head in silent prayer as she had so many times before.

 

Mara jerked her head up as dry leaves crunched under a boot. A scout was in the clearing once again moving slowly. Shiny helmets followed. Soon, helmets became men and men became archers entering the clearing. Most of them didn’t have their bows strung. They talked and laughed as they marched unaware of what lie in wait. When the bulk of the archers entered the clearing, Mara shot the man in the lead. His bow fell off his shoulder as he hit the ground. In the blink of an eye, the sky was thick with arrows and men were falling with loud screams. Those with strung bows began firing blindly into the trees but died first because they were the biggest threat. Those who were bending bows were the next to fall. By now, the enemy cavalry were entering the clearing at a run, trying to get past the hidden archers slaying their comrades.

 

Mara whistled loudly for Bishop and the other riders to join her. She waited for Bishop to pass below her as he ran down the trail and jumped onto his back. Leandra and Valaska led the riders. Drawing her sword, Mara saw the enemy directly ahead. Their lines broke allowing enough room for the Shiori riders to slip among them.  At first sight of women, the men were undeterred, but after Leandra and Valaska got away unscathed after killing a man each, they began to turn their horses and fight.

 

Valaska took off a man’s head in one clean swing. The horse continued to run out of fear adding to the chaos. Mara whistled twice to halt the reign of arrows as Valaska neared the archer’s range. Many of the enemy cavalry still remained. Those who had not scattered into the woods, herded into a tight circle for safety using their small shields to block the arrows.

 

Mara entered the clearing, veering right to pick off stray men leaving the mass of horses for the Shiori to attack as a unit. An enemy soldier charged at her raising his sword to strike. She ducked and held her sword low to her side. Bone cracked as it hit its mark nearly slicing the man in half. Rushing ahead, she swung in a wide arc catching another man in the neck. He fell off his horse grasping his neck in a futile effort to stop the blood. An arrow whizzed past Mara’s left shoulder killing the soldier ahead. Effortlessly, she veered right for another man. He saw her, though, and swung wide. He missed her, but she took his arm. Closer to the pass she saw the end of cavalry and beginning of the infantry. Still, there was no sign of the mage.

 

Mara glanced at the clearing to watch the mass of horses and people in its center. They had to break apart the enemy without risking their own warriors. “Wayette, fire into the center!” she yelled, pointing with her sword. Somehow Wayette heard her over the noise and four arrows caught enemy soldiers off guard. Those men did not break until four more men fell trying to defend themselves from Shiori blades. Mara rushed a few stray men and killed them easily. Storm’s cry overhead signaled the mage’s arrival.

 

Mara rode hard back to the tree line to retrieve Wayette. The mage was already on the ground running to meet her. Mara pulled Wayette onto the horse behind her and headed back to the pass. Mara killed three men as they rode past and Wayette knocked another two away with her staff. When they reached the pass, Wayette sent up a large light spell to signal their own infantry. Within moments, heated shouts erupted from the woods as Shiori warriors rushed onto the battlefield. Mara and Wayette jumped off Bishop’s back and sent him to the woods.  “I’ve got your back until help arrives. Go on,” Mara told Wayette nodding to the mage.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N211HHR

 

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01N211HHR

 

Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-rashade-r-tran/1125475134?ean=9781542433303

 

Author Biography:

I started writing as self prescribed therapy after my dad died when I was 16. As a teenager I was too scared to admit I was depressed so it was my coping mechanism. It took years before I got the courage to publish. In the years between writing was my relaxation whether I finished the stories or not. I had to get them down before I forgot.

 

Twenty years later I have, two degrees, three published books, a husband who loves me, two little girls I adore and a spoiled dog.

 

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: @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

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: The Magic Shoppe by @shailstock #ROMANTICFANTASY #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - TMS

 

Title:           The Magic Shoppe

 

Author:       Shirley Hailstock

 

Genre:        Romantic Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:  

Georgiana Castleton is gifted. But she knows all gifts come with a price. And hers is a short life. This will be her last Christmas and she’s resolved to her fate–until two mysterious men enter her life and revive her hope. But she has to get something for each of them. And it will take a miracle to do that. And even with her gift she has no guarantee that she will succeed.

Angus Fielding’s moves are those of a magician. Appearing virtually out of thin air, he saves Georgiana from the jaws of death. With inhuman forces stalking her, Georgiana knows his help also comes at a price. She doesn’t know what Angus wants…but her life depends on her giving it to him.

 

Excerpt:

Lancelot’s sword flew off the wall. In an instant it turned, pointed toward Mr. Moorehead, its velocity squealing as it cut through the air and headed straight for him. He stopped it an inch from the center of his eyebrows. It hung there, without physical support, as dangerous as a speeding bullet, until he sent it spinning back. End over end it swept through the room. No one since Lancelot had wielded it. No one but himself.

 

The sword was Mr. Moorehead’s favorite. It wasn’t a toy and held no magic of its own. He’d chosen it as an antique, used it when he was alone and when he was nervous.

 

As he was now.

 

He hated waiting. And he’d been waiting over an hour.

 

The unmanned sword flipped skyward, fought invisible enemies, skillfully avoiding the light chords hanging from the ceiling. The activity kept his mind active and away from thoughts of his tardy guest. The hair on the magic dolls blew in the sword’s wind. A myriad of toys clinked, vibrating against each other on the display tables. The cacophony of sound made a discordant music that wasn’t at all unpleasant.

 

Sending the sword back to its place high on the wall, Mr. Moorehead checked his pocket watch. An hour and a quarter had past since the appointed time. He scratched his head and rubbed his short beard. Would the man not come? This was not the way to begin a job that relied on precise elements, deadlines and stealth.

 

Picking up a large crystal ball, he polished the glass in the soft glow of a single lamp, setting set his mind purposely away from the expected man. He surveyed the many toys filling every conceivable space in the magic shop. The kids loved coming here and playing with them. In his shop nothing every broke and he never shooed a child away.

 

The business was below stairs, on the basement level of a New York brownstone. He’d lived on the upper three floors longer than he could remember, much longer than any of the families living at street level today. He would hate to leave it, but time passed and his was nearing the end. If his guest refused his invitation or refused his mission, this would be his last Christmas.

 

Looking up, he raised his hand. The sword wielded about the room. Anger had it flying dangerously close to the toys, but he was a skilled artist. Suddenly the bell over the door tinkled. Mr. Moorehead swung around. The sword flew straight toward the intruder. Mr. Moorehead’s breath stopped. At that instant so did the sword. It stood in the air, vibrating back and forth, its tip only an eyelash away from the newcomer’s brow. The light was dim in the closed shop. He only saw an outline, not any details of the person standing by the door. Yet he’d heard the astonished cry when the sword nearly pierced the man’s forehead. Slowly Mr. Moorehead backed it away and let it clatter to the floor.

 

Relieved that his guest had finally arrived, Mr. Moorehead walked toward the man. The anticipation on his face fell when he saw the slip of a girl standing just inside the entrance. He did not recognize her. He knew everyone in the neighborhood, and they knew his magic shop closed at five. It was now past seven.

 

“May I help you?” he asked. “Are you here seeking a gift for a friend or relative?”

 

She looked at the sword on the floor, but said nothing about it. Neither did she move to retrieve it or step away from any danger it might still entertain.

 

“I am not,” she said, her voice stronger than she looked. “I am Georgiana Winifred Castleton.”  Her thin shoulders lifted a bit. “I believe you are expecting me.”

 

He looked confused. The name meant nothing to him, but she spoke it as if it should. There was even the tone of nobility underlying the lithe of her speech. Although nobility had not crossed the Atlantic with the new Americans, Mr. Moorehead had witnessed the break between the colonies and their mother country.

 

“May I help you?”  He leaned forward, not quite bowing.

 

She pulled a battered looking envelope from her sleeve. He immediately recognized it.

 

“Georgiana Winifred Castleton?” he frowned.

 

“George Castle,” she said. He immediately understood that this was not the first time she had used the bastardization of her given name as subterfuge. He checked himself, stifling a smile. It was one thing that sided in her favor. She had brash and that could come in handy if she were not a girl.

 

Mr. Moorehead tried to speak, but only made an incomprehensible noise. He bent forward and picked up the sword. “You are a girl.” He finally got the words out.

 

She jumped back, her hands going to her breasts as if he had scared her. “I did not know that. Thank you so much for pointing it out.”

 

She was only a hair over five feet, with long wisps of blonde hair that needed curling and huge brown eyes. It was impossible not to look into them.

 

“I was not expecting a female or a child.”

 

“Not a problem,” she said. “I can fix that.”  In a wink, she spun fully around, her tattered clothes clinging to her slight frame. As she came back to face him, the girl was gone. Standing before him was a young man. His length of hair was a might too long. He had no whiskers, but a sort of peach fuzz on her chin indicating his young age. His gaze, however, was direct and penetrating. Gone was any appearance of weakness.

 

“You are late,” he said, closeting his astonishment in the censured tone of his voice.

 

Spreading her hands, she offered him a smile. Deep dimples creased her cheeks and changed her face from childlike to something different…something more.

 

“And you are playing with toys.”

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$10.00 Amazon Gift Card and an e-copy of A Very Romantic Christmas

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

 

Buy Links: 

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B008CPBMQG/shirleyhailstofb-20

Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-magic-shoppe-shirley-hailstock/1111651629?ean=2940014720731

iBooks – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-magic-shoppe/id634693130?mt=11

Kobo – http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Magic-Shoppe/book-UsQG9dlis0mpHYjVRExLtw/page1.html?s=juEtCqpWvk616Lvgcuo75A&r=4

Google – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Shirley_Hailstock_The_Magic_Shoppe?id=VDCvBAAAQBAJ

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition: 

For Christmas I love Sweet Potato Pie.  As a tradition, at the first snowfall of the season, I bake cinnamon rolls.

 

SHIRLEY WITH BOOK - 14C

 

Author Biography:   

Shirley Hailstock began her writing life as a lover of reading.  She likes nothing better than to find a quiet corner where she can get lost in a book, explore new worlds and visit places she never expected to see.  As an author, she can not only visit those places, but she can be the heroine of her own stories.  The author of more than thirty novels and novellas, including her electronic editions, Shirley has received numerous awards, including the Borders Bestselling Romance Award and Romantic Times Magazine‘s Career Achievement Award.  Shirley’s books have appeared on Blackboard, Essence Magazine, Amazon.com and Library Journal Best Seller Lists.  She is a past president of Romance Writers of America.

 

Social Media Links:

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

Twitter – https://twitter.com/shailstock

Tumblr – https://shailstock.tumblr.com/

Wattpad – https://www.wattpad.com/user/shailstock

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/shailstock/

Email: shirleyhailstockfan@gmail.com

Newsletter: https://madmimi.com/signups/136297/join

Website – http://www.ShirleyHailstock.net

 

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: The Bastard’s Iberian Bride by @AlinaKField #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - TBIB

 

Title: The Bastard’s Iberian Bride

 

Author:       Alina K. Field

 

Genre:        Regency Romance

 

Book Blurb:

Daughter of spies

 

For a chance at true freedom, Paulette Heardwyn needs the fortune left her by her inscrutable father. But she doesn’t know what it is, where it is, or how to find it, and the only man with answers, the Earl of Shaldon, takes his secrets to the grave. Worse, the dead earl tries to force her marriage to his bastard son—and leaves her prey to a traitor seeking the same treasure she’s after.

 

Soldier, Steward, Bastard

 

Bink Gibson is ready to throw off his quiet life as steward to his old commander and head for India and the chance of prosperity. But before he can leave he’s summoned to the deathbed of the Earl of Shaldon, a meddling spymaster, a complete stranger…and his father.

 

And the Earl has set a trap Bink will never be able to resist.

 

Excerpt:

A tap at the door brought the innkeeper’s smiling, buxom maid with a flagon of ale and a pint tankard. Bink thanked her for the drink, and silently, for the interruption, and started speaking before the door shut on the wench, before the lady across from him could stop glaring at her and untie her tongue.

 

“I know we haven’t gone far, Miss Heardwyn, but it is, if you will remember, the Sabbath, and in spite of it, we’ve all had a hard day’s labor. The servants are entitled to a rest. Kincaid and the men will watch over your wagon. Nothing will go missing.”

 

She studied her teacup and worried at her lush lower lip with those perfect white teeth. She was a beauty, was Miss Heardwyn, much more to his taste than the flaxen-haired serving wench, and in other circumstances…

 

“As to the cost.” She cleared her throat.

 

“You are not to worry, miss. I’ve said you will have any monies Shaldon has left me, and I mean it. I will bear the cost tonight, and tomorrow we’ll make the arrangements with Bakeley for the rest.”

 

Her gaze shot up, eyes flashing. She did not want to be in his debt.

 

Or… she did not want to return to Cransdall.

 

She stood and walked to the fireplace. The room had gone warm, and he debated opening one of the casement windows a tad wider.

 

“Mabel, wait outside please,” the lady said, her back to the both of them.

 

Bink eased out of his chair. “Leave the door open, Mabel. You may stand outside and eavesdrop but don’t allow anyone else to listen.”

 

The maid’s lips quivered as she curtsied and hurried out.

 

He turned back to the lady. “Is this where you tell me you will not return to Cransdall?”

 

Paulette’s breath caught. Mr. Gibson had moved up next to her with a great deal of stealth, close enough to lay hands on her if he wished.

 

His big body radiated warmth and suffused her with his scent. Even after a hard day of riding, the man-scent was subtle, no stronger than her farmer’s had been on a Sunday morning, dressed in his best. But the yeoman farmer had repelled her. There was nothing repellant about Mr. Gibson.

 

She reached for some calm, trying to still her heart. She was shorter than most women, true, but even if she’d been tall for a woman, he would still tower over her. He spread one enormous hand against the mantel and leaned into it, sending her heart fluttering into her throat.

 

She coughed to clear it. She must not let him think her weak. “Returning to Cransdall is out of the question for me. If you take me there, I will never be able to leave.”

 

Quiet followed, the long silence making her wonder if he’d actually heard.

 

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

 

This inn was on the main road, the groom had said. She might have enough money to get to London, and then a bit more for her keep once she arrived. For a few days, anyway. Once she located the solicitor and one of her trustees, she would be provided for, surely.

 

She would not tell him those plans.

 

“What of your belongings we rescued today?” he asked, before she could speak.

 

Grrr. He was tricky, this one. She had not thought that far ahead. “They will be safe at Cransdall, surely. Kincaid and the grooms can take them back. You can return to your home.”

 

“And you—”

 

“You are not my keeper, Mr. Gibson.”

 

He studied her for a too-long moment, sending warmth up her cheeks. She would not look away. She would not give him the satisfaction.

 

“I’ll ask you to sleep on it, and we’ll talk again at breakfast.” He reached one long finger up and swept a lock of hair behind her ear.

 

His touch jolted her, too delicate for the man. She could feel her breath rising and falling like a bellows-blown fire, all deliciously lit up within her, with a promise of something she couldn’t fathom.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

Winner’s choice of an e-copy of one of Alina K. Field’s Christmas novellas, Rosalyn’s Ring (only available in Kindle) or The Marquess and the Midwife.

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071D52388

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-bastard-s-iberian-bride

iTunes: https://itun.es/i6759FF

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-bastards-iberian-bride-alina-k-field/1126282774?ean=2940157193805

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

I love many holiday traditions, but my favorite is gathering around the table with family for a special Christmas Day meal. Usually, it’s roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy, but last year we did a full brunch: ham, Belgian waffles, mini-frittatas, fruit salad, and champagne. That may be our new tradition!

 

AlinaKField head shot

 

Author Biography:

Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but her true passion is the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with her husband, her spunky, blonde, rescued terrier, and the blue-eyed cat who conned his way in for dinner one day and decided the food was too good to leave.

 

She is the author of the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring, a 2015 RONE Award finalist, Bella’s Band, and a 2016 National Reader’s Choice Award finalist, Liliana’s Letter, as well as her latest release, The Marquess and the Midwife. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances, but loves to hear from readers!

 

Social Media Links:

http://alinakfield.com/

https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield

https://twitter.com/AlinaKField

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Field

https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/

https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alina-k-field

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: Aaden BlueStar by @authorGaughan #SCIFI #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - ABTA

 

Title: Aaden BlueStar – The Awakening

 

Author: David Gaughan

 

Genre: Space Adventure

 

Book Blurb:

Never feeling quite at home in this world, an ordinary boy discovers his extraterrestrial heritage and superhuman powers when he is confronted by an alien foe. Discovering he is here on a time travel mission, his grip on reality is stretched when he realizes his father, who is running for President, is also not of this world. His best friend Fleur and his sister Tiffany are the only two he can confide in. Together with their extraterrestrial friends, they not only have to combat their alien foe, they also have to convince humanity to change their ways to prevent destroying their home through an environmental disaster. With climate change and extreme weather issues increasing in frequency and intensity, the clock is ticking!

 

Excerpt:

Ben’s image appeared before him.

Startled, Aaden immediately opened his eyes and the image disappeared. He hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t sure what he’d see, but he was shocked to get such a clear image – it was as though he was actually looking at the person standing right in front of him. He composed himself and shut his eyes again.

Almost immediately, Ben’s form appeared before him again.

“Hi!” said Ben.

“Wow!” said Aaden, taken aback. “I’ve never done this before.”

Ben smiled. “I knew there was something unusual the moment I saw you. There’s something special about you.”

“I had the same feeling about you,” said Aaden, still coming to terms with this surreal experience. “But how come we can do this?”

“I’m not sure,” said Ben. “But this is the safest way to communicate without those goons in black intercepting our messages. We need to meet up and discuss. Where and when? You name it.”

“It’ll have to be near here,” said Aaden. “Can you meet me at my school at four, tomorrow afternoon? Sorry, but I don’t have the freedom to get to you.”

“That’s okay,” said Ben. “I was expecting that. I can get a cheap flight.”

Aaden gave him brief instructions how to get to his school and then Ben’s image faded. Aaden opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, wondering how de was going to explain this experience to Tiffany and Fleur.

The next afternoon, the three of them ran expectantly from their classes to the school entrance gates. Tiffany and Fleur were amazed to see Ben standing there, waiting for them.

“How do you guys do that?” said Tiffany, gaping at Ben and then at Aaden. “How do you communicate like that? It’s freaky.”

“Ask him,” said Aaden, pointing to Ben. “It’s a first for me.”

Tiffany and Fleur stared at Ben. He raised his upturned hands, indicating his own confusion about it.

“I really don’t know,” he said. “I suggested it to Aaden more as an experiment than anything. After those guys in black chased us the other day, I didn’t want to use the phone or email in case the message was intercepted. I’ve had strange experiences with visions, so I thought I’d try to connect with Aaden in thought. I was as surprised as you when it worked.”

Aaden stared fixedly at him. “What do you mean when you say you’ve had visions?”

“Strange visions,” said Ben. “I don’t normally tell people about them because they’re so unusual, but I feel strongly connected to you guys, so I’ll tell you.”

“The visions are of spaceships, aren’t they?”

“Yes!” said Ben excitedly. “Not only space and spaceships, but battles in space. The visions are always the same – I’m in the pilot seat of one of the craft.”

Tiffany and Fleur both looked immediately at Aaden.

“That’s the same visions you get, Aaden,” said Fleur. “How weird that you both see the same things.” She looked at Ben. “How long have you been having these visions?”

“Only for the past couple of years,” said Ben. “It was after I had a fall from a ladder, while painting my parents house.” He fingered the faint scar on his forehead. “I was lucky I wasn’t killed, but when I regained consciousness I had strange dreams. Then I learnt to control the visions through concentration. Later they started to appear on their own, even during the day.”

“That’s the same as Aaden,” said Fleur excitedly. “He had the same things happen after being struck by lightning.”

“Struck by lightning?” said Ben. “That sounds more exciting than falling from a ladder.”

“Whatever,” said Aaden. “The result was still the same. I hope you know why we’re being shown these things?”

Ben pursed his lips.

“I don’t. At first, I thought it might have been some psychological effect connected with the stuff my grandpa had told me about the Roswell UFO incident, but now that I’ve met you I’ve changed my mind. You didn’t have those stories told to you when you were young, did you?”

Aaden shook his head. “It was the opposite. That’s why it was a shock for me when the visions started.”

“I have something to show you,” said Ben. He looked around. “But I can’t show you here. I can’t stay long – the only available return flight is in the early evening. The main reason I came is to show you something special. Where can we go that’s more private?”

“Home is close-by,” said Tiffany. “Only a couple of blocks away.”

“That’s why I suggested we meet here,” said Aaden. He pointed towards home. “Come on, it’s only a short walk.”

When they got to the house they went into the lounge. Aaden and Tiffany’s mother was busy in the kitchen and their dad wasn’t home yet, so they had the area to themselves. Ben pulled a folded paper from his hip pocket and started to unravel it.

“What do you think of this?” he said as he smoothed it out on the coffee table.

Aaden’s eyes widened as he stared at the strange hieroglyphics on the paper.

“This is a pencil rubbing of the hieroglyphics on an I-beam of the crashed Roswell UFO,” said Ben in a matter-of-fact tone. “I told you I had a small piece of the wreckage that my grandpa had got when he was young.”

“Wow!” said Tiffany and Fleur in unison, as they both bent over the paper to study it.

Aaden pulled back, all-the-while staring wide-eyed at the sheet.

“In the service of Belial,” he said flatly.

“Yes!” yelled Ben, looking at Aaden in surprise. “You can read it. I got the same thing. I wasn’t sure if I was interpreting it right, but you’ve confirmed it for me.”

“What or who is Belial?” said Tiffany.

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

Three e-copies of Aaden BlueStar: The Awakening

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RIMSS6G

https://www.createspace.com/6550223

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

Strawberries and ice cream

 

DG_140618

 

 

Author Biography:

Born on the same day and month as Mark Twain, this Sagittarius has always been the explorer, not only in world travel pursuits but also alternative fringe subjects. Having climbed the Great Pyramid of Cheops (and getting arrested doing so), some of his other world experiences included riding camels in the Sahara Desert, white-water rafting at the top of the Ganges river, fire walking on a weekend retreat, hot air ballooning in the Cappadocia Region in Turkey and visiting ashrams in Northern India. Much of David’s overseas travel has been fueled by his keen interest in metaphysical subjects. In his earlier years he witnessed, along with three other people, a sighting of a UFO mother ship and four smaller craft, and that was the catalyst for him to research that subject, also in connection with established world viewpoints and how ancient prophecies might hold the clue to our past and future.

 

Social Media Links:

Twitter https://twitter.com/authorgaughan

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13428937.David_Gaughan

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001KDZKOM

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/david.gaughan.967

 

#Romance Writer Seeks Hero – Must Be Willing to Work Odd Hours #guestpost #books #regency


Ginger

 

Romance Writer Seeks Hero – Must Be Willing to Work Odd Hours

A Guest Post by Anna D. Allen

 

If it were up to me, all my heroes would be beautiful, ginger-haired men… or “tall, dark, and handsome.” Of course, I can’t make them all ginger, and “tall, dark, and handsome” is relative to me—taller than me (I’m short), darker than me (I’m a shade darker than death warmed over), and handsome just means he’s got that something-something that makes me like him.

 

When the idea for a hero first takes hold in my mind, I can see him, but it’s like an impressionist painting with all the details burred (in keeping with my eyesight). So in order to describe those details, I seek out photos of men who fit that vision of my hero. This is purely a tool for myself.

 

It’s surprising how important these photos can be. In one story, the character had to be blond. No way around it. And thankfully, I found a photo to work from… because no matter what I did, no matter how I described him in print, in my mind, he had raven locks (and bore an uncanny resemblance to Duncan McLeod of Clan McLeod—aka Adrian Paul).

 

It can take some time to find the right image. And when I do, it never fails that I tend to describe the hero in negative terms—his ears were too long, his eyes too far apart, but she thought he was hot nonetheless.

 

For the novella A Light in Winter or the Wicked Will (published in Christmas Revels: Four Regency Novellas), the hero, Connor Grayson, had to be boyish and ginger. Easy. Eddie Redmayne! But as the story progressed, the heroine, Katherine Woodbridge, realized Connor was no boy and she was drawn to the “broad expanse of his back.” I needed another visual reference for that one… and discovered it while watching the latest version of Jane Eyre when Michael Fassbender, as Mr. Rochester, transplants a shrubbery. (What is it about 19th Century men in waistcoat and shirt sleeves? Okay, any man in waistcoat and shirt sleeves!)

 

Problems finding a suitable image arose while working on my novel, Miss Pritchard’s Happy, Wanton Christmas (and the Consequences Thereof). The hero was in his late thirties, very much a man, and had yet to hit that middle-aged spread. I could see the image in my head perfectly. I knew exactly whom to cast in the role. He was that British actor… I didn’t know his name. No problem. We live in the age of Google. I just had to Google something I had seen him in.

 

Only… what had I seen him in? There was that episode of Law and Order UK. No idea which one (but I bet someone was murdered). Well, he was in an episode of that mystery mini-series on PBS… No, I don’t know the name it. It was with…? With… oh, what is his name? That guy… from Ballykissangel… the one I associate with Robson Green. (Why didn’t I just pick Robson Green? After all, he is gorgeous! Probably because he wasn’t my hero.)

 

This was not working. Didn’t know the actor’s name, and what little I could recall about him would potentially require hours of searching through the casts of countless television episodes.

 

So I sought out other possibilities that were a close match to the image in my head. That guy who played the doctor in Bleak House (at least that one was easier to track down—Google Bleak House—the one with Charles Dance—and see who played the doctor). Sadly, the photos I found of him were blurrier than my eyesight. The only other prospect that immediately came to mind was… he played the handyman who married the older woman on Guiding Light. Good gracious! That was thirty years ago! Besides, I don’t remember anyone’s name from the show (I just remember everyone got food poisoning at their wedding).

 

Finally, I just started Googling actors with dark(ish) hair.

 

Rejects

 

Richard Armitage? No.

 

Colin Ferrell? Such a beautiful Irish lilt, but my hero is English.

 

Marton Csorka? Too broad…but let’s remember to use him in something else.

 

Hugh Jackman? Hmmm? Well? Maybe… No, no, no. I can’t do that. Way too obvious. Besides, he’s not right for the part. But I’ll scroll through photos just a bit more. No, nothing. You know, I don’t have anything more pressing right now, maybe a few more photos.

 

And then I found one specific photo that worked. Maybe it was the lighting, the background, the look in his eyes, but, yeah, he’d do in a pinch. Still not my ideal hero for the novel, but what girl would turn down Hugh Jackman as a stand-in?

 

Stand-In

 

I had my hero.

 

Or so I thought.

 

Two nights later, the British actor I originally wanted to cast in the role was in a movie on Hallmark Movies and Mysteries—Honeymoon for One. He played the cheating fiancé! (Alongside Greg Wise—why didn’t I just cast him as my hero?) Now I had his name—Patrick Baladi. True, he was a tad too old for the part, but I found some photos of him from a few years ago, and, ta-dah, I had my hero. And I described him in the novel accordingly.

 

Sadly, this meant I had to fire Hugh Jackman! The poor man. With a family to support. He never saw it coming. I felt bad. Really, I did. So I named the hero Hugh to make it up to him. (You know he’s thrilled.)

 

Meanwhile, as all this was going on, I had the artist, Adam Tetzlaff, hard at work creating an image for the cover. It was to depict the hero and heroine. Furthermore, my sometimes co-anthologist, Hannah Meredith, had read the opening chapters of my novel in progress. She had no idea of all I’d gone through to get the hero just right in my mind. When Adam finished the artwork, I showed it Hannah. She was impressed and said it was great… only…

 

“I imagined the hero as Hugh Jackman,” she confessed.

 

(Ah, sigh.)

 

Of course, by the end of the novel, I was imagining the hero as Henry Cavill, despite my careful descriptions to the contrary.

 

Clearly, this need for an image of my hero is purely for my benefit, because readers create their own image of the hero.

 

My Hero

 

For The Vicar’s Christmas (published in Christmas Revels II: Four Regency Novellas), it turned out much the same. I had the perfect image in mind for my vicar (with the receding hairline). I tracked down a photo, this time, casting an American in the role. Knowing nothing about the actor, I was shocked to learn he was approximately 60 years old! He could easily pass for my almost-40-year-old vicar. When I learned Hannah Meredith was a fan of the recently defunct television show he starred in as the side-kick, I told her, “Oh, I based the appearance of Henry Ogden on him.” Well, Hannah informed me, the actor bore no resemblance to the Henry she imagined!

 

Decide for yourself. Read the excerpt, and with what scant clues I’ve provided, decide whom you would cast in the role of my mild-mannered village vicar, Henry Ogden. I’m looking forward to reading your choices. Tomorrow, I’ll post my own comment and tell you who provided my inspiration.

 

 cr - print front 3cb with period

 

Title: Christmas Revels II : Four Regency Novellas

 

Author: Anna D. Allen

 

Genre: Historical Romance

 

Publisher: Singing Spring Press

 

 

Book Blurb:

 

Let the Revels begin-again! Four new stories with four distinctive voices:

The Vicar’s Christmas – Margaret Trent never needs anything or anyone, but when two London solicitors show up on her doorstep, she needs a hero. Enter Henry Ogden, mild-mannered village vicar. Hardly the stuff of heroes . . . until adversity brings out unexpected talents.

A Christmas Equation – A chance meeting between a reluctant viscount and a self-effacing companion revives memories of their shared past-a time when they were very different people. With secrets to keep, Sarah Clendenin wishes Benjamin Radcliff gone . . . but he’s making calculations of his own.

Crimson Snow – A trail of blood drops leads Jane Merrywether to a wounded stranger-the only person standing in the way of her wicked guardian becoming an earl. John Rexford, long-thought dead, has returned to claim his inheritance and his promised bride . . . if he can survive a murderous Christmas.

A Perfectly Unregimented Christmas – After years at war, Viscount Pennyworth returns to his ancestral home to find some peace and quiet and to avoid the holiday he loathes. But four naughty boys, a bonnet-wearing goat, a one-eyed cat, a family secret, and one Annabelle Winters, governess, make this a Christmas he’ll never forget.

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$5 Amazon gift card and a 1940’s style hair wrap

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Excerpt:

A violent tapping at his window startled the vicar out of his thoughts. On the opposite side of the glass stood a grinning Jack Carden, the stable boy from Edgecombe Hall, all rosy cheeked with ringlets and the vapor of his breath creating a very false cherub-like appearance. He waved a note clutched firmly between the hand and thumb of his mitten. Had it been summer, Henry would have just opened the window and taken the note—no doubt with Jack crawling through in the process to land in a jumble on the carpet. But with these cold days settling in and thoughts of summer far away, Henry was not about to open the window. He probably should not have even drawn the curtains but he couldn’t resist the sun pouring into the dark room.

 

“Go around,” Henry said and motioned the boy toward the back of the house. Holbein, Mr. Clarke, His Majesty the mad king, and even God would all have to wait for the more pressing matters of village life.

 

Henry met the boy inside the hall by the back door and took the note.

 

“You should hear Miss Trent!” Jack exclaimed with much too much eagerness. “If she weren’t a lady, she’d be swearing like a groomsman.”

 

“Ah. None of that, now,” Henry calmly scolded, then pointed toward the kitchen. “Have Mrs. Brown give you something hot to warm yourself. There may be a reply.” Between the boy and Henry’s housekeeper, the vicar knew the whole village would know of the goings on at Edgecombe Hall within the hour.

 

As Jack scampered off to the kitchen—Mrs. Brown shouting for the boy to walk and refrain from behaving like a little heathen—Henry broke the seal on the note.

 

It was a summons from Miss Margaret Trent. Or more precisely, from Mr. Jonah Henderson, the late Sir William’s London solicitor’s junior partner who had called on Miss Trent that morning. He reported the lady was quite hysterical—how Henry hated that word, especially as he doubted Miss Trent had ever been anywhere near exhibiting such symptoms in her entire life—and that she needed Reverend Ogden to come immediately to offer comfort and consolation in her time of bereavement.

 

A solicitor, especially one up from London, never boded well. And this note reeked of mendacity. While anyone and everyone in the village could more than happily lecture on what exactly Miss Trent needed, comfort and consolation in her time of bereavement were definitely not among them. If anything, the gossips said she demonstrated an unusual lack of emotion upon her father’s death. Never one to put store by gossips, Henry knew Miss Trent to be dignified, proud even, and that she would never allow for a public display of her feelings to all and sundry. Tears were a private matter reserved for intimates.

 

Margaret Trent, in Henry’s view, was probably the most self-reliant of all his parishioners and therein—he suspected—lay the reason for her continued spinsterhood. She managed quite well on her own, and whatever the situation unfolding today at the hall, Henry sincerely doubted Miss Trent needed him for anything.

 

He took out his pocket watch and clicked it open. Quarter to eleven. Blast and blazes! He would have to do without his eleven o’clock tea. Worse—well, maybe not worse—the farrier had told him not to ride his horse until after Christmas due to a recent bout of lameness. Walking from the vicarage to the church was easy enough, but all the way to Edgecombe Hall, a distance of at least two miles, in this cold, would be miserable. Still. Needs must. If Jack could manage it as cheerfully as he did, so too could Henry. And the lad could keep him company on the way.

 

Henry informed Mrs. Brown that he had been called to Edgecombe Hall about a matter and did not know when he would return home. He checked himself in the mirror; despite his dark, spiky hair and the ever-growing number of faint lines around his eyes, he would do. He bundled up against the cold, wrapped a muffler around his head, pulled on his gloves and hat, and, seeing Jack was finished with his cup of tea and biscuit, headed out into the gray frosty world with the boy tagging along beside him.

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon – http://a.co/4ogrKbC

 

Apple iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/christmas-revels-ii-four-regency/id1047951334?mt=11

 

Barns and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-revels-ii-hannah-meredith/1122771468?ean=9781942470007

 

Kobo – https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/christmas-revels-ii-four-regency-novellas

 

Print – https://www.createspace.com/5739761

 

Anna

 

Author Biography:

Anna D. Allen is essentially half-Finnish and half-Southern, which means she has no sense of humor and will shoot you for wearing white shoes after Labor Day… unless you are attending a wedding and happen to be the bride. She holds a Bachelor of Science and a Master of Arts in Language and Literature. She is a recipient of the Writers of the Future award and a member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, but she also has a great passion for Regency Romances. It is generally acknowledged that she spends way too much time with the dead and her mind got lost somewhere in the 19th Century. Along with her contributions to the Regency anthologies, Christmas Revels and Christmas Revels II, her available works include two collections: Mrs. Hewitt’s Barbeque: Seven Eclectic Tales of Food, Humor, and Love and Lake People and Other Speculative Tales; the novel Charles Waverly and the Deadly African Safari; the Regency Romance novelette “A Christmas Wager;” the Regency Romance novel Miss Pritchard’s Happy, Wanton Christmas (and the Consequences Thereof), as well as some boring scholarly stuff about dead people. Rumor has it she has run off with the Doctor—picking up Matthew Brady along the way—and was last seen in 1858 in a hoop skirt and running shoes, but she doesn’t believe it.

 

 

Social Media Links:

Webpage: http://beket1.wix.com/annadallen

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Anna-D-Allen/366546213501993

 

 

 

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: One Christmas Night by @shailstock #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - OCN

 

Title:                One Christmas Night

 

Author:           Shirley Hailstock

 

Genre: Romance

 

Book Blurb:               

Elizabeth Gregory’s world fell apart one Christmas, and she never wants to see the man who caused it–her ex-fiance, James Hill. He might be boy-wonder to the investment world, but to her he’s the man involved in her sister’s death. Yet as the holiday season happily paints the streets in the nation’s Capitol red and green, Elizabeth is standing on his doorstep. For her it’s the worse time of the year. But James makes her a wager – one she can’t refuse.

James found and lost of the love of his life, but providence brings back to him during the holiday season. This time he’ll never let her go–even if he has to convince her he’s what she wants. Can they find magic on this one Christmas night?

 

Excerpt:

Elizabeth had vowed never to see James Hill again.  Yet tonight, twelve days from Christmas, when her emotions were as raw as the wind whipping at her skirt, she found herself standing on his porch.  Tiny white lights outlined the entire structure and she could see the tree, with its lights blinking, through the huge picture window.  The scene couldn’t have been better set up if Hallmark had photographed it for one of their Christmas cards.  “How could I have been so stupid!”  Of all the addresses to mix up, how could she have pulled his out instead of the one behind it?  Why hadn’t she thrown it out three years ago when she’d walked out of his life?

 

Elizabeth Gregory’s finger punched the doorbell as if she wanted to push the Georgian colonial over with her index finger.  Inside she heard the musical notes of St. Michael’s permeate the chilling air.  He hadn’t changed that either, she thought.  How often had she listened to that sound with a wide smile on her face?  She shuddered pulling her red velvet cape closer around her, knowing the coldness gripping her had more to do with anticipation than temperature.

 

“He’s not here,” she muttered, pushing the bell a second time.  She should be relieved that he wasn’t home, but she had to get that package back and deliver it to the right address.  “Come on, James,” she ordered.  “You’ve got to be here.”

 

It was the Christmas season.  The sudden memory of a previous Christmas burst in her brain.  Where had they been?  Curled up in front of the fire at his cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only the two of them and a fake fur rug.  Snow piled up to the windows outside, yet neither of them noticed or cared.  Elizabeth shook herself.  She forced the image of their naked bodies out of her mind.  The firelight was too hypnotizing not to remember James highlighted against the red-gold glow of leaping flames.

 

In three years she expected her anger would have cooled, but she found the prospect of facing him as frightening as reaching for an exposed wire.  Pressing her fingers against her temples, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.  She didn’t need a headache tonight.

 

Ringing the bell a third time, she knew her luck had run out.  James wasn’t home.  Even Mrs. Andrews, his part-time housekeeper, would be with her own family by this time.  She looked around the porch for the package.  It wasn’t there.  Maybe the delivery hadn’t been made.  Silently she prayed for a tiny bit of luck.  If James hadn’t been home, the box could have been returned to the shop.  Silently she prayed for the alternative to be true.  It was worth a try.

 

Elizabeth turned to leave. Everything had gone well with her temporary assistant until today when she had pulled James Hill’s address instead of Jason Hillery and handed it to Joanne.  The young college co-ed was distressed over the mix-up, but didn’t know the city well enough to find James’s house.  Few people could negotiate Rock Creek Park during daylight hours.  After dark, the poor girl would never have found the house nestled among giant rhododendrons on Redwood Terrace.  And the very important delivery would have no chance of reaching the correct address in time.  Chantel Hartman-Lawrence had been adamant about it arriving on time.  Elizabeth had assured her Invitation to Love had built a reputation on correct and prompt delivery.  Now she was going to have to eat those words.

 

“Elizabeth!”

 

James Hill, his voice literally took her breath away.  Elizabeth closed her eyes again as she gathered strength and pushed the pounding in her crown away.  Squaring her shoulders she turned to face her former fiancé.  He hadn’t changed much, from what she could see of him silhouetted against the back light of the doorway.  At thirty-seven, his hair had not a hint of grey.  His face was strong, his skin tight across his features.  He had a square jaw giving him a ruthless look until he smiled.  Then any hint of severity disappeared.  He was smiling now.  Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her ears.  She stifled the urge to press her hands against her head.  Her breath congealing in the crisp December air, looked like a jerky staccato.  She hoped James didn’t notice it.  He filled the doorway, dressed in tennis shoes and a sweat suit.  Even the bagginess of the outfit couldn’t hide his powerfully built physique.  She knew he exercised regularly.  It appeared that even tonight, while most people were still frantically shopping in the area malls, he’d gone to the gym.  James had always been calm and exacting.  He’d probably finished his shopping, wrapped everything and stored them under the tree.

 

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, raising one eyebrow.  “I just got in.”

 

“It’s nice to see you too,” she said, her sarcasm undisguised as she swept passed him without an invitation.  The house too, looked the same.  A roaring fire in the huge fireplace that dominated the high ceilinged room made it warm and comfortable.  Pine boughs scented the air.  Entwined with the same white lights as decorated the outside, they arched from the mantle, the doorways and up the imposing stairwell, whose newel post was as large as her waist was around.  Silent Night played softly from the sound system in the back room.  Wires traveled through the walls to reach the speakers in the corners and bring music to each room.  The house was beautiful, the kind Elizabeth often saw displayed in the holiday issue of  Architectural Digest.  The tree, its lights flashing in the window, was perfect, so much so, it brought tears to her eyes.  Quickly she blinked them away.  She loved this old house.  It had been built before the turn of the century and she’d imagined herself living here after she and James were married.

 

Unfortunately, they hadn’t made the trip down the aisle.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$10.00 Amazon Gift Card and e-book copy of A Very Romantic Christmas

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

 

Buy Links:      

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00NUKB5TM/shirleyhailstofb-20

Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-christmas-night-shirley-hailstock/1120418969?ean=2940150601086

iBooks – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/one-christmas-night/id936278184?mt=11

Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/one-christmas-night

Google – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Shirley_Hailstock_One_Christmas_Night?id=Q1-sBAAAQBAJ

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition: 

For Christmas I love Sweet Potato Pie.  As a tradition, at the first snowfall of the season, I bake cinnamon rolls.

 

SHIRLEY WITH BOOK - 14C

 

Author Biography:       

Shirley Hailstock began her writing life as a lover of reading.  She likes nothing better than to find a quiet corner where she can get lost in a book, explore new worlds and visit places she never expected to see.  As an author, she can not only visit those places, but she can be the heroine of her own stories.  The author of more than thirty novels and novellas, including her electronic editions, Shirley has received numerous awards, including the Borders Bestselling Romance Award and Romantic Times Magazine‘s Career Achievement Award.  Shirley’s books have appeared on Blackboard, Essence Magazine, Amazon.com and Library Journal Best Seller Lists.  She is a past president of Romance Writers of America.

 

Social Media Links:

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

Twitter – https://twitter.com/shailstock

Tumblr – https://shailstock.tumblr.com/

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Email: shirleyhailstockfan@gmail.com

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Children of the Mist by @Hywela_Lyn #sciencefictionromance #fantasy #giveaway #TWRP


Children of the Mist cover

 

Title:  Children Of the Mist (Vol 2 of the Destiny Trilogy, but each book is a ‘Stand Alone’)

Author: Hywela Lyn

Genre:  SF/FANTASY ROMANCE

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

Book Blurb:

Long ago Tamarith fell in love with a man she can never have, and is convinced she will never love another. However, she cannot help but be intrigued by a handsome stranger whose psychic powers exceed even her own.

 

Vidarh seeks only to find his true purpose in life and to win the regard of his father, who eschews his son’s psychic abilities. Thrown together by a common threat to their planet, then torn apart by an evil greater than any they could have imagined, can Vidarh save the lovely Nifl woman who has captivated him, before it is too late?

 

Will Tamarith and Vidarh overcome the deadly enemy who threatens to destroy all they know and love? Will they find the happiness they both seek? Or are they fated to live their lives alone?

 

Giveaway:

Enter to win a $5 WRP (Publisher) Gift Card. All you have to do is comment at the bottom of the post with your name and email.

 

Hywela Lyn will pick a winner on July 18th.

 

Excerpt:

 

As soon as the meal was finished and the guests left the table, Vidarh spotted Tamarith making her way toward him, with an air of purpose in her stride. This morning she wore a long, elegant crimson gown, a narrow black girdle encircling her tiny waist, with sandals on her feet.

 

Her hair hung loose, rippling around her ankles. She was unlike any woman he had known—and it wasn’t only her beauty that intrigued him. She had a remoteness about her too, despite her pleasant manner, and he had a feeling there was something she was hiding. Something he sensed she felt strongly enough about to deliberately keep shielded, even though it was inherent in their very natures that no telepath on Niflheim would ever pry, unbidden, into the mind of another.

 

Good morning, Vidarh, it looks as if we’re going to have beautiful day.

 

It certainly does. Given the curious look in her eye, Vidarh was sure Tamarith wanted more from him than small talk.

 

I would like to talk to you before Gullin calls us all together, if you can spare a few minutes.

 

Of course, Vidarh agreed as he followed her outside and walked with her along the mosaic path beside the banks of flowers that edged the lake.

 

****

 

Tamarith stopped and gazed for a moment across the water. The G-type sun, now fully risen, caused the lake to shimmer like a veil of golden silk, with scarcely a ripple disturbing its calm. The pastel-colored walls of the graceful buildings on the shore reflected the glow of both suns. In the distance, the mountains encircling the settlement reached high into the cerulean sky. The swirling mist that hid their summits was as much a part of Niflheim as the earth upon which she and Vidarh stood.

 

She sensed his mind discreetly touch hers and realized he was staring at her keenly. She turned back to face him, returning his questioning glance and studying him in turn.

 

Taller than average, and broad-shouldered, today he wore a sleeveless, belted leather shirt over thick breeches, with long, icecat-wool lined boots. His upper arms were well muscled, his skin tanned as if he were used to working outdoors. His curly, dark auburn hair, kept away from his face with a plain leather band, reached almost to his shoulders. It caught the sun’s rays and gleamed like the polished dark red wood of the trees that flanked the feet of the mountains. She took in his clear, hazel eyes, with their friendly twinkle, the long, straight nose, strong jaw line and smiling mouth. He would have been fighting off the local unattached young women if the situation they found themselves in were not so serious.

 

Not that she was particularly interested in his looks, or those of any other man, for that matter. No, something else about Vidarh of Ragnak excited her curiosity.

 

It’s about yesterday…

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: 

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002HMC7VE

 

The Wild Rose Press

https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/2350-children-of-the-mist.html

 

Hywela Lyn

 

Author Biography:

Hywela Lyn lives in a small village in England, with her long suffering husband Dave, although her heart remains in her native rural Wales, which inspired so much of her writing.

 

Although most her writing tends to be futuristic, the worlds she creates are usually untainted by crowded cities and technology, embracing the beauty and wildness of nature.  Her characters often have to fight the elements and the terrain itself.  Her heroes are strong and courageous, but chivalrous and honourable – and of course, handsome and hunky. Her heroines are also strong and courageous, but retain their femininity and charm.  However difficult the journey, love will always win in the end.

 

She is a member of The Romantic Novelists’ Association (UK) and Chiltern Writers, her local writing group.

 

A keen animal lover, she has two horses, a ‘feral’ stable cat, and a rescued terrier, who manages to twist her round his little paw.  When she is not writing, she can usually be found enjoying the outdoors with the horses and dog – or just eating chocolate!

 

 

Social Media Links:

Website: www.hywelalyn.co.uk

 

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

 

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

 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Hywela_Lyn

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1422651.Hywela_Lyn

 

Newsletter signup: http://madmimi.com/signups/196357/join

 

 

 

Felicity at the Cross Hotel by @HelenaFairfax is a Delightful Feel-Good #Romance! #books


Felicity cover

 

Title: Felicity at the Cross Hotel

Author: Helena Fairfax

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Book Blurb:

A quaint hotel in a romantic landscape. The Lake District is the perfect getaway. Or is it?

 

Felicity Everdene needs a break from the family business. Driving through the Lake District to the Cross Hotel, past the shining lake and the mountains, everything seems perfect. But Felicity soon discovers all is not well at the Cross Hotel …

 

Patrick Cross left the village of Emmside years ago never intending to return, but his father has left him the family’s hotel in his will, and now he’s forced to come back. With a missing barmaid, a grumpy chef, and the hotel losing money, the arrival of Felicity Everdene from the notorious Everdene family only adds to Patrick’s troubles.

 

With so much to overcome, can Felicity and Patrick bring happiness to the Cross Hotel … and find happiness for themselves?

 

Excerpt:

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m perfectly capable of ordering a taxi.’

 

‘It’s no problem.’ He reached into his pocket for his car key.

 

Fliss would have loved nothing better than to dig in her heels and insist on taking a cab, but unfortunately Patrick’s mother had been hanging on to every word of the conversation.

 

‘Patrick’s right, Fliss, darling. You don’t want to be waiting here for a taxi. There’s only Doug who drives one in the village, and he could be ages at this time of night. Let Patrick take you.’

 

Fliss tried to think of a way of refusing that wouldn’t appear childish and stubborn, and failed. She forced out a stiff, ‘Thank you.’

 

Patrick nodded equally stiffly. There was nothing for Fliss to do except bid Jilly a civil good evening and make her way out in as dignified a fashion as possible. But as she pushed open the hotel door, and the fresh night air enveloped her, her chagrin dissipated. The sight outside swept everything else from her mind, and she gave a gasp of wonder. The night sky was clear above the trees, and to the west, where the fellside dipped down to the valley, the heavens fell away in a sheet of black, sprinkled with a thousand stars, so close, she could be walking through them.

 

‘Will you take a look at that?’ She stepped forwards over the gravel and made her way to the terrace, where the stars swung down. The sky was deepest black, and the Milky Way floated high, high above them, in a swirl of fabulous glory. Fliss rested her hands on the railing, her head tilted up to the sky.

 

The starlight cast a white glow over Patrick’s features, deepening the lines on his face. His mouth was a straight line, and his eyes glittered. Fliss turned her head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the firmament. Then his eyes met hers.

 

‘It’s even more spectacular in the Caribbean,’ he said. ‘On a calm night, when you come up from a dive, you could be alone in the universe, floating along, with the stars a golden cloak above you.’

 

‘That sounds amazing. I can see how you must miss it.’

 

He hesitated, before saying, ‘I don’t miss it as much as I did.’

 

The breeze in the trees stilled. Fliss heard the sound of Patrick’s breathing. Then an owl broke the silence, bursting out of the wood on the hillside below them with a great sweep of its wings. Fliss gave a startled gasp. Patrick placed his hand on her arm, his breath quickening with hers. At his touch, Fliss’s heart leapt. His eyes were bright on hers, his lips parted. For a wild moment she thought he was about to kiss her. She waited, heart thudding, a thousand emotions clamouring within her. He bent his head to hers, and for a couple of seconds they stood perfectly still, their quick breath intermingling.

 

 

Amazon Universal Buy Link: http://mybook.to/FelicityCH

 

 Helena Fairfax photo

 

Author Biography:

Helena Fairfax is a British author who was born in Uganda and came to England as a child. She’s grown used to the cold now which is just as well, since these days she lives in an old Victorian mill town in the north of England, right next door to the windswept Yorkshire moors. Helena walks this romantic landscape every day with her rescue dog, finding it the perfect place to dream up her heroes and her happy endings. Subscribers to Helena’s newsletter receive news of free stuff, competitions with prizes, gossip, and links to cool websites she’s been looking at when she should have been writing.

 

Social Media Links:

Website: www.helenafairfax.com

 

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

 

Twitter https://twitter.com/HelenaFairfax

 

Pinterest https://uk.pinterest.com/helenafairfax/

 

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

 

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cR_m71  All new subscribers receive a FREE feel good story

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: Silver Bells by @JacqBiggar #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY #MGTAB


Christmas in July Book Square - SB

 

Title: Silver Bells

 

Author: Jacquie Biggar

 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Book Blurb:

Will a Christmas wish give a lonely author a family?

 

 

Mystery writer, Joel Carpenter, has no time for romance. He has a deadline to meet, and too many skeletons in his closet to trust the slightly spinny artist renting his house.

 

Christy Taylor has her hands full dealing with an ailing business and a diabetic daughter, she doesn’t need the temptation that is her landlord, Joel Carpenter.

 

Can a Christmas wish bring two stubborn souls together and give a little girl the gift she wants most?

 

 

Excerpt:

The room was cluttered, filled with varying sizes of glass display cases. Some showcased pottery and native craftsmanship, while others exhibited porcelain dolls and west coast animals made from jade. The walls held framed prints, some in watercolor, others hand-drawn in pencil and crayon. Each an exquisite work of art. An all too familiar view of the breakwater had him swinging around in disbelief.

 

“You,” he growled.

 

The woman stood with her arms crossed defensively, but the raised chin and flashing green eyes told him she’d already made the connection.

 

“What do you want?” she demanded. “How did you find me?”

 

“So you were telling the truth, you’re not a reporter.” He was tempted to smile at the inelegant snort his comment received. She really was a firecracker, this one.

 

“I believe I said that the other night. And speaking of stalking…” She raised her pencil-fine brow.

 

Two new customers entered, setting the bells tinkling again, and her demeanor turned warm and inviting. She glanced at him, hesitated, then strode around the counter to help the clients, her back ramrod straight.

 

Joel lingered, somewhat bemused. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been made to wait. More often than not, people were so ingratiating it maddened him. This was… refreshing.

 

Now that he could see her in the daylight she was quite pretty. Not beautiful. Her features were too narrow, her lips too wide. Yet something about her face was striking. Maybe it was those jade green eyes. They reminded him of the ocean in all its tumultuous glory. Or maybe it was the glorious crown of golden-red hair endowed with a life of its own, bouncing and shimmering halfway down her slim back. Her legs were long and athletic looking, encased in those narrow fitted track pants women seemed to favor these days. He’d always thought they looked ridiculous, until now.

 

He cleared his throat and turned away from the temptation of her curvy backside. Maybe he should just come back later when the owner returned. The last thing he needed to be doing right now was to get sidetracked by the prospect of the chase. Because that’s all it was; once he won, his interest always disappeared.

 

“So, you never answered my question.”

 

Her melodic voice floating from just over his shoulder startled him.

 

He swung around, surprised to see they were once again alone in the store. He hadn’t even heard the blasted bells this time. She was shorter than he expected. Her spitfire personality had turned her into an Amazon in his mind.

 

“Where’s your boss?” he asked, his tone somewhat abrupt but he couldn’t help it, she threw him off-balance. “Aren’t you rather young to be left running the store on your own?”

 

Her gaze lit with laughter. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

 

He looked at her, puzzled. “Best what?”

 

She tilted her head to the side as though trying to figure him out. “Forget it. Is there a message I can give my… boss for you?”

 

Joel had the insane urge to reach out and touch her to see if she was real. It was uncanny. She was the spitting image of his heroine. How could this have happened? He’d already written about Rebecca before meeting this woman on the beach the other night so that wasn’t the reason. It made him supremely uncomfortable to look at her and feel like he knew what she was thinking—which of course he couldn’t.

 

“Have we met before?” There had to be some explanation. Maybe she’d traveled to Scotland and he’d seen her there. Or maybe he’d lost his ever-lovin’ mind. They say everyone has a doppelganger, but this… this was weird.

 

She laughed.

 

And no doubt thought him crazy.

 

“You mean other than our less than friendly meeting the other night? No, I don’t think so.”

 

Yeah, he didn’t either.

 

He shook his head, suddenly eager to get home and do some editing. “Tell your boss her landlord was here.”

 

He stepped out the door, but couldn’t leave without gazing at her one more time. The shimmer in the glass when the door slid closed made her face waver, like an out of focus lens on a camera. A chill wormed its way down Joel’s spine. He glanced at the cloudless blue of the December sky and tugged his jacket closed.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

An e-copy of one of Jacquie Biggar’s backlist titles (winner’s choice)

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

https://www.books2read.com/u/m2Xq71

 

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

One of our favorite traditions is to gather up the family (there’s only five of us here J), pile into the car, stop for hot chocolates, and then spend a couple of hours looking at Christmas lights. Some people go all out! It’s a great way to start the holiday period.

 

Jacquie Biggar

 

Author Biography:

JACQUIE BIGGAR  is a USA Today bestselling author of Romantic Suspense who loves to write about tough, alpha males who know what they want, that is until they’re gob-smacked by heroines who are strong, contemporary women willing to show them what they really need is love. She is the author of the popular Wounded Hearts series and has just started a new series in paranormal suspense, Mended Souls.

 

She has been blessed with a long, happy marriage and enjoys writing romance novels that end with happily-ever-afters.

 

Jacquie lives in paradise along the west coast of Canada with her family and loves reading, writing, and flower gardening. She swears she can’t function without coffee, preferably at the beach with her sweetheart.

 

Social Media Links:

http://jacqbiggar.com

http://Facebook.com/jacqbiggar

http://Facebook.com/jacquiebiggar

Facebook Street Team:

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Newsletter-

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Cowgirl, Unexpectedly by Vicki Tharp @vwtharp #WesternRomance #RomanticSuspense #books


CowgirlUnexpectedly_cover

 

Title: Cowgirl, Unexpectedly

Author: Vicki Tharp

Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Western Romance/ Military Romance

 

Book Blurb:

A Harley and a highway are all an Iraqi war veteran needs to soothe her restless spirit—until a pit stop puts her on the front lines of love . . .  

 

Settling down is not an option for Mackenzie Parish. Since the end of her tour of duty, the ex-Marine has been on the road, doing what she can to ease the pain of her wounded shoulder and mind. But when her money runs out, she takes a job on a Wyoming ranch—and finds herself in unfamiliar territory once more . . .

 

Mackenzie’s lesson number one: a horse is definitely nothing like a motorcycle. But even knee deep in manure, and saddle sores aside, Mac finds comfort in the daily routine of hard work and the great outdoors. Only her bunkmate, Hank Nash, provides an unsettling distraction. The former champion bull rider has returned home to reconnect with his estranged daughter. Yet despite his own struggles, he has the patience to show Mac the ropes, and the sweet touch to draw her out of herself—and her violent past.

 

But when the ranch becomes the target violent threats, Mac will have to choose between the call of the road—and the man who has helped her feel whole again . . .

 

Available now for pre-order and set for release in October 2017!

 

Excerpt:

My engine sputtered and died on the downhill road into the ranch, like an old dinosaur rattling out its last breath. I coasted the rest of the way and skidded to a stop in front of a small group of men gathered around a campfire. Pebbles kicked up by my rear tire pinged into the crowd and landed with a tink against the side of the fire-blackened coffee pot. I settled my bike on its kickstand, swung my leg over and stepped to the edge of the circle of men.

 

      Clouds building along the mountain range turned the sky the deep blue-gray of aged gunmetal. Thunder rumbled and my engine ticked as it cooled. Thin tendrils of campfire smoke curled into the air, but the handful of hot coals remaining provided little heat. A sharp whistle from an older man I assumed was the boss or ranch foreman, hushed their chatter, but all eyes remained on me. Men don’t intimidate me, but I swallowed a grumble when my eyes settled on Hank from the café.

 

      One of the cowboys spit on the ground, another stopped whittling. A kid to Hank’s right sucked in a hard breath. I thought he might choke on his toothpick.

 

      “Morning, boys.” I said, confident, if not entirely welcome. For a moment, silence reigned. Even the cow dog stopped chewing at his fleas. “Looks like I’m just in time.”

 

      “I thought the women’s knitting circle met on Wednesdays,” the kid muttered around the toothpick.

 

      There was the expected quick round of chuckles. Ignoring the comment, I walked over to the foreman and pulled the flyer from my back pocket. “Says here you need hands. I have two, so I’m here to apply.” Another round of light laughter ensued, but the scowl I sent them silenced them fast enough.

 

      “You’re a woman,” the foreman said, as if the statement would come as a revelation to me.

 

      I pasted on a bright smile, patted my short-cropped mop of hair the same deep, brownish red as the horse tied to a nearby tree, and flattened the front of my bomber jacket that all but hid my breasts. “Kind of you to notice.”

 

      “We need men. Strong men. With muscle.”

 

      I took the flier from his hand and feigned perplexion as I pretended to reread the information printed on the sheet. “No, nothing here specifies men only.”

 

      “You have to be able to ride.”

 

      “I can ride.” He probably meant horses, not motorcycles, but he hadn’t qualified the type of riding so I didn’t consider it an outright lie. Besides, how hard could it be anyway?

 

      “And shoot,” the foreman added.

 

     A genuine smile tipped my lips. “Not a problem.”

 

     He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. “And wrestle calves.”

 

     The breath I blew out ruffled my bangs. “Never wrestled calves,” I admitted. Looking around, I tilted my head, indicating the kid with the toothpick, still lanky from a growth spurt. “But I sure as hell can out wrestle him.”

 

     The group of men burst into hoots and guffaws, and one of them piped up. “Awh, c’mon boss, give her a shot, what can it hurt?”

 

     The foreman scrubbed a hand in nearly a week’s growth of beard and sighed. “Got no quarters for ladies, here.”

 

     After all the things I’ve done. I don’t think I qualified as a lady any more. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” I sauntered over to Hank with mustered bravado and jabbed a thumb in his direction. “I’ll bunk with Pops.”

 

      Hank jerked his chin up as if I’d slapped him. “Pops?”

 

      He had at least ten years on a couple of the other guys, who weren’t long out of the schoolyard at best. It wasn’t like he was old, old. But old enough I wouldn’t have to tell him more than once I wasn’t interested in some sort of high country romance. In Iraq, the men had learned to leave me be. These guys would, too. In time. I needed some rack time before I had the energy to deal with it though. Plus, I figured I’d already pissed off Hank enough this morning that he’d be the least likely one to hit on me.

 

      Hank eyed me with speculation, the brim of his hat shadowing his expression. “You’re no spring chicken either.”

 

      I ignored him and the round of juvenile comments from the guys about eating chickens, plucking chickens, and a whole host of other remarks that were designed to be taken the wrong way. If my bones didn’t ache and the muscle under the scar on my shoulder didn’t burn, I might have argued with him. As it was, I already felt twice my age, so I couldn’t disagree.

 

      An ear-piercing whistle came from behind me. The men quieted mid-laugh and the mutt saddled up to my leg and leaned against me. I dropped a hand to its head and felt the quick lick of a hot, moist tongue on my palm. I turned my head and recognized the man I’d restrained this morning and the young girl walking up from the main house.

 

      The girl’s smile was a quirky mixture between shy and amused. The man spared me a brief nod before turning his attention to the rest of the men. “Enough of that kind of talk. I run a family operation. My wife and granddaughter live here. I expect you to behave as gentlemen, and treat them,” the man looked between his granddaughter and myself before glaring back at them, “and any other women with respect. If you cannot manage that, then you’d best go now. I won’t tolerate that nonsense here.”

 

      He turned and headed to the barn without any fanfare. I figured that meant I, as well as the rest of the men gathered there had the job. I went to grab my motorcycle while the others grabbed their gear from their trucks. Two had their own horses in a stock trailer and they headed over to offload them. The horses’ hooves tapped a nervous, deep staccato on the trailer’s wooden floorboards as they backed out. Steel clanked on steel as the rear door banged against the shaking trailer. I straddled my bike and shifted it into neutral. The bunkhouses were downhill from the campfire, so I kept a close eye on Hank’s jeans-clad ass as I coasted down the ranch road after him.

 

Buy Links:

Universal (all vendors): https://books2read.com/CowgirlUnexpectedly

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01MS0VHYH

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/cowgirl-unexpectedly/id1209823199

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/cowgirl-unexpectedly

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cowgirl-unexpectedly-vicki-tharp/1125397308?ean=9781516104482

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=9U3KDQAAQBAJ

 

Author Biography:

Born with a love for animals, Vicki Tharp pursued a career as a veterinarian, graduating from the Texas A&M College of Veterinary Medicine in 1992. Always an avid reader of romance, mystery, and suspense, she combined her interests and medical knowledge in her first book, DON’T LOOK BACK.

 

She makes her home on small acreage in south Texas with her husband and an embarrassing number of pets. When she isn’t writing, trimming hooves, woodworking, or mucking out the barn, you can usually find her on the back of her horse, enjoying the delightful nasal bouquet of flowers, fly spray, and eau de horse sweat.

 

Her new series, Long S Ranch, is launching this fall with the first story COWGIRL, UNEXPECTEDLY.

 

Social Media Links:

Website: http://www.vickitharp.com

 

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

 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/vwtharp

 

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

 

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cr0Jgz

 

The Ghost Chronicles Series by @MarloBerliner is Haunting! #paranormal #TuesdayBookBlog


TGCCover

 

TITLE:

THE GHOST CHRONICLES, Book 1

 

AUTHOR:

Marlo Berliner

 

GENRE:

Upper YA Paranormal with Adult Crossover Appeal

 

PUBLISHER:

Teddy Blue Books

 

 

BOOK BLURB: 

Can Michael get to heaven before the devil gets him first, and if it means leaving Sarah is he sure he still wants to go?

Michael Andrews had everything – a loving family, a great girlfriend and a promising basketball career. That was before the accident that took his life. Now, he’s a ghost, wandering among the living, struggling to understand why he’s stuck. All he wants is to move on.

 

That is until he meets Sarah, an attractive young girl who died just as tragically as he did. The only trouble is falling in love and binding oneself to another soul is forbidden, for it may keep one or both of the souls bound to earth for longer than they should be.

To make matters worse, there’s also a danger in going too far with Sarah, because the “joining” of two souls in the afterlife is also strictly forbidden and they don’t know what will happen if they do go that far. Each time they touch they can feel the boundaries of their energies slipping perilously into one another.

Things get even more complicated as Michael learns he’s being pursued. Demons are after him because he’s a marked soul, a soul the devil wants very badly for some unknown reason.

So, maybe falling in love in the afterlife isn’t such a good idea.

 

 

EXCERPT:

 

In a quiet voice, she asked, “Did you love that girl?”

 

He needed to be truthful. “I thought so at the time.”

 

“And now?” Her eyes betrayed her hopefulness.

 

Stepping closer to her, he said, “Things have changed…in more ways than one. I really missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too,” she said in a whisper. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me…or maybe moved on.”

 

“I could never forget you, Sarah.” He stared at her lips, longing to kiss her.

 

She met his gaze and a light flickered in her own eyes.

 

Instinctively, they leaned closer to one another. As the distance between them dwindled, Michael felt that magnetic pull taking over once again. He brushed one hand gently on her cheek, sliding his other arm around her waist. Slowly, he pulled her close.

 

Everywhere their spirit bodies touched was instantly electrified with an amazing tingling sensation and warmth. He could tell by her reaction she felt it too.

 

Now for the moment of truth. He let his lips brush lightly against hers. As before, a pleasurable tingling passed between them. Sarah closed her eyes in a silent surrender and he pressed his lips to hers. Hot and intense, the kiss was better than any he’d ever had. For an immeasurable breadth of time he kissed her, savoring the heat, his mouth moving hungrily over hers.

 

To be warm again, to tingle again, to feel again, these sensations were so familiar, yet already so forgotten.

 

 

BUY LINKS:

Amazon –
US – https://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Chronicles-Marlo-Berliner-ebook/dp/B017DWXPTA/
UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Ghost-Chronicles-Marlo-Berliner-ebook/dp/B017DWXPTA/

 

Barnes & Noble –

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ghost-chronicles-marlo-berliner/1123052689?ean=9780996972413

 

Walmart –

https://www.walmart.com/ip/The-Ghost-Chronicles/54934980

 

marloheadshot

 

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY:

Marlo Berliner is the award-winning author of THE GHOST CHRONICLES, her debut book which was released in November 2015 to critical acclaim. The book won the 2016 NJRW Golden Leaf Award for Best First Book, was named a FINALIST in the National Indie Excellence Awards for Young Adult Fiction, received the Literary Classics Seal of Approval, and was awarded a B.R.A.G. Medallion. Marlo is represented by Eric Ruben of the Ruben Agency and she writes young adult, women’s fiction, and short stories. Marlo is also a freelance editor with Chimera Editing. Her second book, THE GHOST CHRONICLES BOOK 2, will be released in August 2017.
When she’s not writing or editing, Marlo loves reading, relaxing at the beach, watching movies, and rooting for the Penn State Nittany Lions. After having spent some wonderful time in Pittsburgh and Houston, she’s now back in her home state of New Jersey where she resides with her husband, two sons, and a rambunctious puppy named Max.

 

 

You can find more information about Marlo here:

Website: www.marloberliner.com

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Marlo-Berliner/e/B017EVF4AS
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarloBerliner
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marloberliner
Instagram: https://instagram.com/marloberliner
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14560514.Marlo_Berliner

 

THE GHOST CHRONICLES 2 FRONT COVER (Final)

 

TITLE:

THE GHOST CHRONICLES, Book 2

 

AUTHOR:

Marlo Berliner

 

GENRE:

Upper YA Paranormal with Adult Crossover Appeal

 

PUBLISHER:

Teddy Blue Books

 

 

BOOK BLURB: 

What’s there to fear if you’re already dead?
Plenty.
Michael and Sarah now know for certain,
there is a destination after death.
They also know they better find their way out of the afterlife fast,
before the devil claims Michael’s soul.
What they don’t know?
Before they can get to heaven…they may just have to go through hell.

 

EXCERPT:

 

Michael turned to her to say something funny, but the antique clock on the sidewalk in front of the gift shop suddenly chimed midnight. As usual, time had once again moved forward at some wickedly irrational pace.

 

The wind had picked up and snow was lightly falling again, straight through both of them. He took Sarah’s hand and let the swirling wind direct him, spinning Sarah around the wrought-iron clock as if they were ballroom dancing to music only he could hear in his mind.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Until Sarah started humming the same tune along with him.

 

He hadn’t even realized it, but his mind must’ve been projecting the music, so he picked up the tempo now, humming louder. It took a moment before he could recall the name of the tune, but then he recognized the song as The Blue Danube, a famous waltz by Johann Strauss II. At least I remembered something from middle school music classes, he thought with amusement.

 

He twirled her around again with a big flourish, and then dipped her in his arms before finally yanking her up into a tight embrace. A swirl of snowflakes danced softly around and through her wavy, red hair. Aroused by the warmth of her aura, he pulled her even closer to his chest, as spectral butterflies sprang to life in his stomach.

 

This was the kind of romantic moment any man, dead or alive, would remember forever. A thread of magic that would become stitched inside of a freeze frame of memory.

 

His fingers strayed across her cheek, relishing the softness of her ghostly skin. For a moment, her big, beautiful eyes held him spellbound. He could swear each time he looked into them they reflected an even deeper, more entrancing shade of green. “Merry Christmas, Sarah.”

 

She leaned into him and whispered tenderly, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

 

He let himself go, placing his mouth desperately over hers, losing himself in the heat and passion of her kiss. As far as he was concerned there was nothing else on this earth, nothing else in this universe, except her lips and this moment in time.

 

 

BUY LINKS

Amazon (pre-order) – https://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Chronicles-Book-Two-ebook/dp/B072HLK5L5/

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: The Power of Love and Murder by @brendawhitesid2 #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - TPOLAM

 

Title: The Power of Love and Murder

 

Author: Brenda Whiteside

 

Genre: Romantic Suspense

 

Book Blurb:

For thirteen years, Penny Sparks has managed to hide from the political powers who murdered her family. When she unwittingly exposes her true identity, not only is she marked for death, but the people closest to her risk meeting the same fate.

 

 

Jake Winters is out of rehab and coming to grips with his demons. When he meets his sister’s roommate, Jake believes Penny might be that someone who can help him find life after rock star status…until her secrets blow up his world.

 

 

With a government agent turned hit man closing in on her, Penny and Jake race to expose the presidential contender behind the murders of her family. Even if they win the race with death, the murder that stands between them could end their hope for a new life.

 

 

Excerpt:

Jake nodded, but all he could concentrate on were Penny’s last words before the officer appeared. When they were alone again, he threw up his hands. “What do you mean, go back to Phoenix? Why the hell would I do that? My sister’s been murdered, and I want to find out why.”

 

She turned her back on him, went to the open door of the bathroom, and lifted her clothes from the hook. Beneath the thin, hospital gown her spine was straight, her movements tight, as if coiled and ready to spring.

 

“Penny, I know how much she meant to you.” How much she meant to both of them. He wanted to hold her, share their loss. “I’m not leaving you.”

 

Untying the gown, she let it drop around her feet, and sidestepped out of the heap. She pulled the dark gray sweater over her head then stepped into black velvet jeans. She wouldn’t make eye contact, wouldn’t speak as she sat on the green plastic chair.

 

This was killing him. He needed to hold her, help her with her pain—his pain. Haltingly, he made his way to her, touched her head, and waited while she zipped her boots. “Penny.” She resisted, but he tipped her chin, forcing her to look up. “Come on, baby. You don’t have to worry about me leaving you.”

 

“You will.”

 

“No—”

 

“When I tell you the truth, you will.”

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$10 Amazon Gift Card

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

AMAZON

https://www.amazon.com/Power-Love-Murder-Book-ebook/dp/B01M3YVO4H/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478459500&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Power+of+Love+and+Murder+Whiteside

 

TWRP

http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/4774-the-power-of-love-and-murder.html

 

Barnes and Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-power-of-love-and-murder-brenda-whiteside/1125058047?ean=2940156875115

 

KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?Query=The%20Power%20of%20Love%20and%20Murder%20(Brenda%20Whiteside)&ac=1&acp=the%20power%20of%20love%20and%20mur&ac.title=The%20Power%20of%20Love%20and%20Murder&ac.author=Brenda%20Whiteside

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

The Christmas season is by far my favorite because we incorporate Winter Solstice. On Winter Solstice, we have a traditional fire ceremony with our son and his family. This is a time to share the memories of the year and what we look forward to in the next. We use the directions of the earth in our discussion. A meal follows and the next morning we exchange gifts. On Christmas, we celebrate with the rest of the family.

 

brenda Whiteside

 

Author Biography:

Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. Currently, they split their time between the pines of Northern Arizona, the desert of Southern Arizona, and the RV life. Wherever she roams, she spends most of her time writing stories of discovery, suspense, and the tangled relationships of life.

 

Social Media Links:

Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com

Or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9th and 24th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about life’s latest adventure on her personal blog http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_Whiteside

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: Santa Claws by @Krispiewrites #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - SC

 

Title: Santa Claws

 

Author: Kris Pearson

 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Book Blurb:

From dark start to delicious ending, this unusual Christmas tale is romantic and uplifting. Nothing will ever be the same again after Jeff is accused of threatening to murder his wife. Or Evie is bruised one time too many by her abusive boyfriend. Or Santa Claws the cat starts howling under the house.

 

This delightfully different novella brings eventual happiness for everyone – including added joy for Christian and Fiona who you first met in Kris’s novel THE WRONG SISTER. Come and spend a sunny summer Christmas in Wellington, New Zealand. You could even adopt a kitten….

 

 

Excerpt:

“We saw you, Jeff Hartley! Saw you at Kentucky Fried. Saw her get in the car. Saw you laughing and smiling at her.” Monica’s face had turned beet-red, and the tendons in her neck stretched tight as she thrust her head toward him. It was more than she’d said to him in weeks. Months. How had things got so bad?

 

“Yeah, Jeff,” her sister Ingrid snapped. “We saw you leaning all over her. Opening the car door for her. How long since you did that for Monny?”

 

Jeff grabbed a deep breath. Jeez but he could do without Ingrid in the middle of this. “Evie was carrying dinner. For the no-hopers she lives with. Was I supposed to stand by and let her struggle with that and the door as well?”

 

“Why were you giving a lift?” Monica’s machine-gun mouth rattled out the question.

 

“Because it was bloody raining. It’s only a block out of my way from work.”

 

She aimed a slap at him and missed because he reared back. “You’ve done it plenty of times before, because people have seen you,” she accused.

 

“A couple of times. Three at most.” How had his wife known that? And maybe it was a few more than three…

 

“Well, I’ve had enough,” she snapped. “You’re out of here. See how you like trying to find somewhere else to live with no money.”

 

Jeff registered Monica’s triumphant sneer, and then Ingrid’s. “Monica, what the hell have you done?”

 

“Transferred the money somewhere you’ll never find it. All of it. I deserve it for what I’ve had to put up with from you. Unfaithful bastard.”

 

Jeff’s bile rose into his throat and he took a step forward, towering over her. “What you’ve had to put up with? A roof over your head, still being paid for by me? All the food and bills paid by me ever since you left that job last year? And in return, I get what? One meal a day, grudgingly cooked, and I can’t remember the last time we had sex. Serve you right if I was unfaithful.”

 

He drew another breath to continue, but Ingrid beat him to it. “She’s been a good wife to you. Looked after your home without complaint.”

 

He turned on his sister-in-law and glared. “Keep out of this, Ing. It’s no business of yours.”

 

“It’s totally my business. She’s my baby sis. I have to watch out for her.”

 

Jeff cut his gaze back to Monica. “What have you done with the money, Mon?”

 

“Hidden it where you’ll never find it,” she hissed. Pure vitriol gleamed in her eyes.

 

“You’re dreaming. The bank will have records of exactly what you did. I could kill you for this!”

 

“He said ‘kill’. He said ‘kill’,” Ingrid shrieked. “You’re not safe, Monica. I’m calling the cops.”

 

“Get the hell away from us, Ing. Get out of my house. Take your nosy meddling body off my property right now or I’ll throw you over the gate.”

 

“I’ve got you recorded,” she yelled, brandishing her phone at him.

 

She did indeed retreat, but only to the front boundary. After a few more minutes of heated ‘discussion’ between him and Monica, two uniformed police arrived, asked him to pack a bag, and said they were taking him into custody for the night ‘to give everyone a chance to calm down.’

 

No way would Jeff let his father or brother know he’d been arrested tonight. No-one in the Hartley family had ever been to jail.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

Three Amazon gift vouchers for Santa Claws

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N6N1BSH

 

iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/santa-claws/id1192119429?mt=11

 

Kobo  https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/santa-claws-5

 

Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/santa-claws-kris-pearson/1126310390;jsessionid=0AED260DDE65BE014A90FA13417E71A5.prodny_store01-atgap09?ean=2940153943961

 

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/693705

 

Google Play https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kris_Pearson_SantaClaws?id=BWM2DgAAQBAJ&hl=en

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

Pavlova cake and raspberries! We have Christmas in the middle of summer in New Zealand.

 

Kris Pearson

 

Author Biography:

Kris writes sizzling contemporary romance, pure and simple. Well, maybe not that pure! They’re sexy stories about couples who fall in love, and into bed along the way, just like real people do.

 

If you like your books sweeter, you can enjoy some of the same stories under her Kerri Peach author name (which are currently being translated in China!)

If it’s fine, she gardens. If it’s wet, she writes. And if the writing’s going well, the garden can look after itself. She’s an advertising copywriter and a decor specialist, and the author of ‘The Boat Builder’s Bed’, of which more than two million were downloaded free. Giving away this taste of her work kick-started sales of all her other novels.

Her Heartlands series follows the girls who live deep in the New Zealand countryside. Her seven Wellington books are set in the capital city so she can make use of the beautiful harbor in the plots. There’s also a Spanish version of her website http://www.krispearson.com – click the flags at the top right of it to change languages. Her all-time best-sellers are ‘Taken by the Sheikh’ and ‘Desired by the Sheikh’.

 

She’s now working on the second of her Scarlet Bay Series. ‘Hard to Regret’ is the first. ‘Hard to Resist’ will be the second.

 

Social Media Links:

https://www.facebook.com/krispearsonauthor/

http://krispearson.com/

https://twitter.com/krispiewrites

 

#CHRISTMASINJULY FETE: Dante’s Gift by @Aubreywynne51 #ROMANCE #BOOKS #GIVEAWAY


Christmas in July Book Square - DG

 

Title: Dante’s Gift

 

Author: Aubrey Wynne

 

Genre: Contemporary Romance with Historical Subplot

 

Book Blurb:

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

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

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

 

Excerpt:

Excerpt from WWII romance –

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“The sign says Guido’s Café.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“You have a dog?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$5 Amazon gift card and a 1940’s style hair wrap

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dantes-Gift-Chicago-Christmas-Book-ebook/dp/B016YWEDSW/

All other retailers: https://www.books2read.com/u/3Rprn4

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

Decorating the tree the night before Thanksgiving has become a tradition in our house. We play Christmas carols, prep for the big meal and hang our ornaments.

 

Aubrey Wynne

 

Author Biography:

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

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

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

 

 

Social Media Links:

Website: http://aubreywynne.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Aubreywynne51

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

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

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

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/aubreywynne51/

 

“a fun trip turns intense” Detours in Time by @PamSCanepa1 #sciencefiction #books #FridayReads


 DetoursTimeBookcoverV61625 (2)

 

Title:  Detours in Time

Author:  Pamela Schloesser Canepa

Genre: Science Fiction

 

Book Blurb: 

Feisty Tabatha, a struggling artist, and Milt, an awkward Science professor set off on a journey to the future.  What was supposed to be fun soon turns quite intense when they make discoveries about their future selves and end up on other “detours.”  The two set events into action that may save one life, yet destroy another.  Can these friends of completely different mindsets agree on a course of action?   Can Tabatha stick to Milt’s rules of time travel?  Both Milt and Tabatha struggle to witness and not participate in a place and time that is not yet their own.

 

Amid the backdrop of a future that reveals great wonders and horrors, Tabatha and Milt must resist the temptation to use discoveries from future technology to aid them when they return to the present.  Detours in Time starts as a fantastic escape and grows to present many moral dilemmas and surprises that can either destroy the strongest bond or bring two people closer.

 

Excerpt:

“What’s wrong?  Not enamored with caterpillars, are you?”

 

“Nope.  But I think you knew that.  Don’t let that near me.”

 

He let it down slowly and hesitantly, as if having been forced to choose between the bug and Pinky.  He was like a teenage boy when it came to bugs, worms, caterpillars.  Pinky hated bugs, but still found his excitement amusing.   He was truly a young soul in that fifty-year-old body, that honestly didn’t look fifty, anyhow.

 

“You like it here, don’t you?”  It was a statement of fact.

 

“Of course.  And I’d stay if I could.  But we can’t.”

 

“Why not?  It’s not like you would change anything that has already happened.”  Pinky opined.

 

“Oh, but I might.”  Pinky frowned in consternation, but he continued.  “This future is based on many things that happened between 1997 and 2047.  Just imagine what they are doing with cryogenics now!  I have a life to live from 1997 to….I don’t know what year.  To take out just one thing I’m going to do could have a ripple effect.  And we can only change the world by living our own lives.  That is what I believe.  Who knows if I might make an amazing scientific discovery between then and now–other than time travel by Envo, that is, although evidently, someone else took the credit.  Perhaps I make even another astounding discovery that someone else will take credit for.  And don’t forget, I single-handedly unravel the thrill of time travel, rendering it illegal in our land!  It is apparent that fame is not my destiny.”   He had worked himself into a gloomy mood.

 

“Calm down, Milt.”  Pinky patted him on the back.  “Let’s just enjoy what we see around us.”

 

 

Buy Link:

Get your copy of Detours in Time in Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, or paperback at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0711ZW6XF

 

Pam85450895F163

 

Author Biography:

Author Pamela Schloesser Canepa had a childhood full of travel and moving, fueling her writing of poems and stories as a child to provide entertainment for long trips. After a while, her family settled in the southeast. Writing provided an outlet for private thoughts and emotions for years, until she decided to self-publish fiction in 2016. Pamela’s genres include science fiction, paranormal fiction, and poetry of all types. The “Made for Me” series was Pamela’s first published fiction series. Currently, Pamela is working on a sequel to her time travel novel and may soon publish some of her paranormal short stories.

 

Follow me for updates and new releases!

https://www.facebook.com/pamelacanepablog/  (Author Facebook)

https://twitter.com/PamSCanepa1

Amazon Author site:  http://amzn.to/1t3BYGU

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15166012.Pamela_Schloesser_Canepa

Blog:  http://pamelascanepa.wordpress.com

Author website: http://pamelascanepa.weebly.com

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

Quest of a Warrior by @m_morganauthor #Giveaway #paranormalromance #FridayReads


QuestofaWarrior_w10770_750

 

QUEST OF A WARRIOR by Mary Morgan

 

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

 

Genre: Paranormal Fantasy Romance

 

Blurb:

“You met them in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their legends!”

Fenian Warrior, Conn MacRoich has traveled the earth for thousands of years, guarding the realm between mortal and Fae. His deeds are legendary. Yet, one mistake will force him on a journey to fix a broken time-line. However, on Conn’s quest, he must face a human female who will eventually bring this ancient warrior to his knees.

When Ivy O’Callaghan inherits her uncle’s estate, she never imagines there will be more secrets to unravel, including the one she hides from the world. With the help of a mysterious stranger, she learns to trust and step out of the shadows. However, nothing prepares Ivy when she learns Conn’s true identity.

As the loom of fate weaves a thread around the lovers from two different worlds, will the sacrifices they make lead them to love? Or will their secrets destroy and separate them forever?

 

 

Giveaway:

Enter to win a Signed Print Copy of QUEST OF A WARRIOR by Mary Morgan, a Celtic Jeweled Bookmark or a $10 Amazon Gift Card.

 

All you have to do is leave a blog comment at the bottom of this spotlight and then click on this link:

 

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1e1c4f646/?

 

Giveaway runs until July 31st and is open to residents of US and Canada.

 

 

Excerpt: 

Putting a fist to her mouth to stifle the laughter, Ivy turned when the front door to the pub blew open. The cold blast of air lashed across her face, but she gave no care. Her mouth became dry as the man stood there blocking what little light remained in the sky. His silver-blond wavy hair whipped around his chiseled face shaded by a light beard. Yet, it was those eyes that bore into hers—holding her captive. Were they silver or ice blue? She blinked several times, and swallowed.

 

 

The giant stepped into the pub and closed the door. Ivy’s gaze traveled the length of him as he made his way past her to the bar. She couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. He was sinfully dressed in all black—jeans, boots, leather jacket opened to reveal a black tee. He was magnificent.

 

 

“Sweet Brigid,” whispered Erin. “Have the Vikings invaded Glennamore again?”

 

 

The woman’s words snapped Ivy out of her lustful trance. She looked at her friend. “Vikings in Glennamore?”

 

 

Mac placed her coat over her shoulders and chuckled. “Do not fear they were banished many centuries ago. I’ll go see what the Viking wants. I’m sure he’s only passing through and needs a pint and some food. There’s nothing in Glennamore to raid.”

 

 

The room blurred, and Ivy brushed a hand over her brow. “Not a Viking,” she uttered softly.

 

 

Erin placed a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”

 

 

Ivy lifted her head. The gorgeous man leaned against the bar as Mac made his way to him. “I said he’s not a Viking.”

 

 

Erin smirked. “You could have fooled me.”

 

 

The man straightened as Mac pointed a finger directly in Ivy’s direction.

 

 

Ivy was unable to move, the words tumbled free as if spoken by someone else. “He’s an ancient Celt.”

 

 

The stranger immediately glanced her way, shock registering across his face as if he had heard her spoken words.

 

 

“Good Lord, you’re as white as a sheet, Ivy Kathleen.”

 

 

She barely heard Erin’s words. The Celt moved toward her, a frown marring his handsome features. A tremor slithered down her spine as she lifted her head up to meet his gaze.

 

 

“Ivy O’Callaghan?” The soft burr of his voice brushed over her face, and she couldn’t determine if it was Irish or Scottish.

 

 

Her mouth stayed dry, making her unable to acknowledge the man’s question. Nodding slowly, she took a step back. Then the Celt smiled, and Ivy thought she would melt right there on the floor. How could anyone look that gorgeous?

 

 

Erin nudged her. “Forgive my friend, Ivy Kathleen, she seems to have lost her voice.”

 

 

Recovering her wits, Ivy replied, “Sorry. I’m done telling stories about my life in the States.”

 

 

The Celt arched a brow. “Not interested in your stories. Sean Casey sent me to inspect your repairs.”

 

 

“You know Sean?” interrupted Erin.

 

 

Smiling, the man nodded. “Most of his life. I’m Conn MacRoich.”

 

 

Buy Links:

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Quest-Warrior-Legends-Fenian-Warriors-ebook/dp/B072HPBMDM/

Barnes&Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/quest-of-a-warrior-mary-morgan/1126404360/

The Wild Rose: https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/5086-quest-of-a-warrior.html

Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/quest-of-a-warrior

Apple iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/quest-of-a-warrior/id1231868317?mt=11

 

 Mary Morgan

 

Author Biography:

Award-winning Scottish paranormal romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.

 
Mary’s passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn’t until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling–writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.

  

Author Links:

WEBSITE:  http://www.marymorganauthor.com

BLOG:  http://www.marymorganauthor.com/blog

TWITTER:  http://twitter.com/m_morganauthor

FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.facebook.com/MaryMorganAuthor/

FACEBOOK:  http://www.facebook.com/mary.morgan.564

GOODREADS:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8271002.Mary_Morgan

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:  http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Morgan/e/B00KPE3NWI/

PINTEREST:  www.pinterest.com/marymorgan50/

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/marymorgan2/

BOOKBUB: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-morgan

#ChristmasInJuly Fete: The Christmas List by @shailstock #romance #books #giveaway


Christmas in July Book Square - TCL

 

Title:           The Christmas List

 

Author:       Shirley Hailstock

 

Genre:        Romance

 

Book Blurb:  

A freak accident changed the course of tennis player Allie Underwood’s life. Two years in recuperation, she’s finally back on her feet, but her plans of opening a tennis academy died with the accident. Then Allie encounters architect Peter Barrett who literally pulls the rug out from under her. Attempting to avoid him proves fruitless as he’s everywhere she turns. When he pulls her into his arms and passion flares between them, Allie’s future and her heart are in jeopardy.

Patting himself on the back after gaining a lucrative contract, Peter Barrett is stunned when a teenage angel appears in his home office and tells him she’s there to save his soul. He has to help another mortal by fulfilling her Christmas wishes. Peter has never had a happy Christmas. And the chosen woman stands in the way of his architectural plans.

Will they learn the value of good will to men and open their hearts to love?

 

Excerpt:

Allie’s hand shook when she looked down at the year old paper.  Her mouth went dry as she stared at the list she’d begun two years ago.  Uncalled for emotions sailed into her like a fast moving train.  Her free hand went to her heart, trying to control the sudden beating that she could feel all the way to her head.

 

The note’s title was clear, but the year had been obliterated by water damage.  She didn’t need to see it.  She knew exactly when she’d written it.  It was during her before period.  Before the accident.  Before her world collided with a drunk driver.  Before life as she knew it and the promising future her friends and family knew was hers, was snatched away in a blinding few seconds that crushed her life, limbs, and career into a space too small for a woman her size.

 

Balling the single sheet into golf-ball size, Allie tossed it toward the trash can – missing it by inches.  She didn’t need to read it.  She knew what it said.  She also knew the list was moot.  Allie wouldn’t get any of her Christmas wishes – not then or now.

 

“Allie, are you ready?” her sister called from the hall.  Allie started taking a deep breath and snapping her attention to the present.  From the sound of Melanie’s voice, Allie could tell she was half-way up the stairs.

 

“Just throwing out some trash,” Allie called.  She glanced toward the trash can as if she could see her past.

 

Melanie pushed the door open and walked in without waiting for Allie to offer her entrance.  She was immaculately dressed in black pants, a creamy soft cable-knit sweater and red knee-length boots.  Not at all like Allie who wore a simple green dress with long sleeves.  It was cinched at the waist by a silver belt whose loop was three dress sizes tighter than it had been a year ago.  Allie wore support stockings and shoes with a one-inch heel.  There was snow outside, but it had been cleared away leaving adequate paths that could keep her feet dry.  Despite spending her entire life in Lighthouse, Maine, Allie did not like boots.

 

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked, looking around.

 

“Cleaning out some papers I don’t need anymore.”  She wanted to say some old memories, but that would spark more conversation than she wanted to go into with her perceptive sister.

 

“Ready?”

 

Allie pushed her arms into her coat.  “I am now.”  She smiled even though she didn’t feel like it.

 

“It’s cold out, but it hasn’t snowed yet.”

 

New snow was predicted.  Allie saw her sister glance at her shoes.  The censure that she should have on the boots Melanie had bought her was there.  She ignored it and started for the door.

 

“I’ll take this down for you,” Melanie said, lifting the nearly full trash can.

 

Allie gritted her teeth.  After two years, she was capable of taking her own trash down the stairs, but Melanie thought she was helping.  And Allie’s limp was almost gone.  If she didn’t overdo or try to walk too fast, no one could tell she even had a limp.

 

Melanie took the trash basket to the kitchen and left it next to a larger one.  The balled up list still lay on the floor of Allie’s bedroom.  Neither of them noticed.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

$10.00 Amazon Gift Card and an e-copy of A Very Romantic Christmas

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links: 

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00A1US5HY/shirleyhailstofb-20

Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-christmas-list-shirley-hailstock/1113740079?ean=2940015906486

iBooks – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-christmas-list/id635077195?mt=11

Kobo – http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Christmas-List/book-WcnyaMO6k06h2ROCe7ifVw/page1.html

Google – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Shirley_Hailstock_The_Christmas_List?id=3jmvBAAAQBAJ

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition: 

For Christmas I love Sweet Potato Pie.  As a tradition, at the first snowfall of the season, I bake cinnamon rolls.

 

SHIRLEY WITH BOOK - 14C

 

Author Biography:   

Shirley Hailstock began her writing life as a lover of reading.  She likes nothing better than to find a quiet corner where she can get lost in a book, explore new worlds and visit places she never expected to see.  As an author, she can not only visit those places, but she can be the heroine of her own stories.  The author of more than thirty novels and novellas, including her electronic editions, Shirley has received numerous awards, including the Borders Bestselling Romance Award and Romantic Times Magazine‘s Career Achievement Award.  Shirley’s books have appeared on Blackboard, Essence Magazine, Amazon.com and Library Journal Best Seller Lists.  She is a past president of Romance Writers of America.

 

Social Media Links:

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

Twitter – https://twitter.com/@shailstock

Tumblr – https://shailstock.tumblr.com/

Wattpad – https://www.wattpad.com/user/shailstock

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/shailstock/

Email: shirleyhailstockfan@gmail.com

Newsletter: https://madmimi.com/signups/136297/join

Website – http://www.ShirleyHailstock.net

 

 

#ChristmasInJuly Fete: Christmas Revels II by @LouisaCornell et. al #romance #books #giveaway


Christmas in July Book Square - CRII

 

Title: Christmas Revels II: Four Regency Novellas

 

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

 

Genre: Historical Romance

 

Book Blurb:

Let the Revels begin-again! Four new stories with four distinctive voices:

The Vicar’s Christmas – Margaret Trent never needs anything or anyone, but when two London solicitors show up on her doorstep, she needs a hero. Enter Henry Ogden, mild-mannered village vicar. Hardly the stuff of heroes… until adversity brings out unexpected talents.

A Christmas Equation – A chance meeting between a reluctant viscount and a self-effacing companion revives memories of their shared past-a time when they were very different people. With secrets to keep, Sarah Clendenin wishes Benjamin Radcliff gone… but he’s making calculations of his own.

Crimson Snow – A trail of blood drops leads Jane Merrywether to a wounded stranger-the only person standing in the way of her wicked guardian becoming an earl. John Rexford, long-thought dead, has returned to claim his inheritance and his promised bride… if he can survive a murderous Christmas.

A Perfectly Unregimented Christmas – After years at war, Viscount Pennyworth returns to his ancestral home to find some peace and quiet and to avoid the holiday he loathes. But four naughty boys, a bonnet-wearing goat, a one-eyed cat, a family secret, and one Annabelle Winters, governess, make this a Christmas he’ll never forget.

 

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

2 e-copies of Christmas Revels

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:   

Amazon – http://a.co/4ogrKbC

Apple iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/christmas-revels-ii-four-regency/id1047951334?mt=11

Barns and Nobles – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-revels-ii-hannah-meredith/1122771468?ean=9781942470007

Kobo – https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/christmas-revels-ii-four-regency-novellas

Print – https://www.createspace.com/5739761

 

 

Authors’ Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition:

Hannah – I love to decorate for Christmas. I admit I go crazy with greens and bows. Outside there are wreathes – one 4 ft., one 3 ft., one 2 ft., and two 18 inches – all with bows.  I also put up eleven window sprays (with bows) and put sprays (and bows) on the mailbox. Inside—well, I go crazier. Fortunately, we have a big old house that fits my insanity.

 

Anna – Our bizarre Christmas Eve dinner is the only meal we really have with “once a year” foods. I call it a Scandinavian Feast of the Seven Fishes. We have oyster stew–which I don’t care for– and then all these canapés and appetizer-like dishes. There are caviar canapés, and lox, and smoked oysters, and pickled herring, and crab salad, and hot crab spread, and shrimp in butter, and lots of bread and more bread. And we always eat it all much too fast! Then we remind ourselves “ah, but there’s still dessert.”

 

Louisa – My favorite decoration is my small desktop Christmas tree that has shoe ornaments on it. Only shoe ornaments, mostly of Regency or Victorian era shoes, but some stiletto and other contemporary shoes too. And a tiny pair of ruby slippers at the top.

 

Kate – I love watching the Christmas musical programs on TV. Kings College Oxford, National Cathedral, anywhere there is a good choir and a pipe organ or orchestra. A cappella madrigal singing is also a treat at Christmastime.

 

Revellers 4

 

Authors Biographies:

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

Social Media Links:

Hannah – http://www.hannahmeredith.com

https://www.facebook.com/HannahMeredithAuthor

 

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

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Anna-D-Allen/366546213501993

 

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

http://www.louisacornell.com/

https://twitter.com/LouisaCornell

https://www.facebook.com/RegencyWriterLouisaCornell

https://www.facebook.com/louisa.cornell

https://www.pinterest.com/louisacornell/

 

Kate – http://www.KateParkerbooks.com

https://www.facebook.com/Author.Kate.Parker/

#ChristmasInJuly Fete: Champagne For Christmas by @JeanJoachim #romance #books #giveaway


Christmas in July Book Square - CFC

 

Title:  Champagne for Christmas

 

Author:   Jean C. Joachim

 

Genre: Contemporary Romance

 

Book Blurb:

Can a summer romance survive the cold of winter?

 

Nina Wells, a widow in her late forties, had buried love with her husband. Until she met the playwright next door. Clint, a school teacher by profession, is sweating through his first play. When he accidentally dumps his mint chip ice cream on Nina’s chest, he meets the one woman who believes he can write.

Nina, an actress, sees Clint’s talent. Using her experience in the theater to guide him, she bonds with him over the play. They collaborate, writing and cooking together. The summer flies by as Nina falls in love and hopes her new man will revive her dormant acting career as well as her love life.

 

But once back in the City, reality bombards them at every turn. There’s no sentiment in the theater, only cold, hard reality. What will Clint do when faced with the option of losing his dream or the woman of his dreams?

 

 

Excerpt:

The sultry, August air hung heavy around Nina, quickly melting the ice cream in her sundae. While gazing up at the clear, night sky to look for the Big Dipper, she dribbled fudge sauce on her new, aqua T-shirt. She pursed her lips. That’s what I get for not paying attention. With a disgusted sigh, she reached for a napkin before realizing she’d forgotten to take one. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath and doubled back to the stand before the stain set.

 

She rushed up to the tiny counter right as a tall, good-looking man holding a double scoop cone turned. They collided. Half of his cold treat fell onto her chest, causing her to gasp at the shock against her skin. She looked up into his light brown eyes as she grabbed the melting ball.

 

He slipped one arm around her waist to keep her from losing her footing. She stood wobbling, mesmerized by him. He was almost a whole foot taller than she was, with thick, straight, brown hair and shoulders a mile wide. Nina shifted the ice cream from hand to hand, not knowing what to do.

 

“I don’t think you can put that back on the cone. Maybe the garbage?” he suggested with a grin.

 

Nina jerked back to reality and stepped toward the trashcan, tossing in what was left of the melting mess. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you another one,” she said, reaching for napkins to wipe her shirt and hands.

 

“It was my fault…completely. You don’t have to buy me anything. Besides, I still have one scoop here. I’ll just…,” he began, approaching her with more napkins, and then stopping, his hand in midair, color suffusing his face.

 

Nina had raised a hand to halt his actions. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” The young woman behind the counter offered him a replacement scoop for free. Nina sat down at the picnic table set up for people to eat outside. After a good look at her shirt, she knew it was ruined.

 

The tall, attractive man joined her. “At least let me pay for a new shirt,” he offered, sitting down next to her on the bench.

 

“It’s okay. I had a spill on it already. That’s why I was coming back and got in your way,” she said, finishing the last of her sundae.

 

“What flavor?” he asked.

 

“Mint chip…is there any other?” She laughed.

 

“Not for me.”

 

Nina’s gaze was drawn to his mouth, then his tongue, as he licked the cold confection off the cone first, then his lips. She ran her own tongue over her bottom lip unconsciously, in tandem with him. Wonder what it would feel like to kiss him? “I’m Nina Wells.” She offered her hand, as soon as she could rip her stare from his mouth.

 

He shook it. “Clint Hayworth.”

 

“You look familiar,” she said, with hooded eyes, admiring his physique.

 

“I’ve seen you, too…in the garden? Next door?” he asked, looking away from his ice cream.

 

“You’re renting the Willis place?”

 

“Thinking about buying it, too.” He stopped eating long enough to shoot her a confident smile, his gaze resting on her face before sweeping over her chest and back again.

 

“It’s a lovely house. The neighborhood’s terrific, too. Lots of space and nice people.”

 

“Then, why did I see a ‘For Sale’ sign in front of your place?”

 

“Oh.” She could feel the heat of her blush. “I’m alone now…and it’s kind of…I’m not…”

 

“Not used to taking care of it by yourself?”

 

She nodded. Why am I still embarrassed about being a widow? It’s not a personal failing.

 

“Have you owned it long?”

 

“Since my son was eight…seventeen years.”

 

“You have a twenty-five-year-old son?” His eyebrows shot up, and he stared at her.

 

She nodded, forming a weak smile and trying to hide her nerves.

 

“You don’t look old enough.”

 

“Looks can be deceiving.” Nina crumpled up her sundae cup and moved to the trashcan to discard it.

 

“Not in my book,” he said, giving her figure a frank once-over as she crossed his path.

 

“Was the boy helping you in the garden your son?” Nina asked, changing the subject to hide her discomfort at his scrutiny.

 

“Yes. Cory.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“He went back to his mother’s place.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his forearm.

 

“I’m used to it by now…” He rubbed his fingers over his two-day growth of beard and closed his eyes for a second. “I lied. Not used to it at all. Hate it, in fact.” He took a big, loud bite of the sugar cone, crunching it between his teeth.

 

“My son lives in Seattle. Has for three years. I’m not used to him so far away and probably never will be.”

 

“Can I at least buy you a cup of coffee to make up for the shirt I wrecked?” He finished the last of the cone and turned to face her, holding her gaze as a seductive grin inched across his face.

She swallowed, and her pulse kicked up. “Why don’t you come over, and I’ll make us both some coffee? Some company in my too-quiet house would be welcome.”

 

“Great. Meet you there,” he said.

 

Christmas in July Fete Sackful of Giveaways:

 

Grand Prize: $75 USD Amazon Gift Card

Two e-copies of Champagne for Christmas

(plus more prizes…)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db77506/?

Open Internationally

Starts July 1, 2017 12:01 am EST and ends August 1, 2017 12:00 am EST

 

Buy Links:

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Champagne-Christmas-Jean-Joachim-ebook/dp/B00PQMB2SQ/

 

Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/champagne-for-christmas-jean-joachim/1107867865;jsessionid=6EE1A77EA2D5C4CEEFBA732C7E6B997A.prodny_store01-va03?ean=2940151666589

 

iTunes/Apple Books – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id967977890

 

Kobo – https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/champagne-for-christmas-2

 

Google Play- https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Jean_Joachim_Champagne_for_Christmas?id=q3NuCwAAQBAJ

 

Author’s Favorite Holiday Food/Tradition: 

Baking Christmas cookies with my 25 year old son. My favorites are molasses cookies, his are chocolate pixies.

 

JeanJoachim2431A

 

Author Biography:

Jean Joachim is an award-winning, international best-selling romance author, with books hitting the Amazon Top 100 list in the U.S. and abroad since 2012. She writes mostly contemporary romance, which includes sports romance and romantic suspense.

 

  Dangerous Love Lost & Found won 1st place in the suspense category in the 2015 Oklahoma Romance Writers of America International Digital Awards contest. The Renovated Heart won Best Novel of the Year from Love Romances Café. Lovers & Liars was a RomCon finalist in 2013. And The Marriage List tied for third place as Best Contemporary Romance from the Gulf Coast RWA. To Love or Not to Love tied for second place in the 2014 New England Chapter of Romance Writers of America Reader’s Choice contest. She was chosen Author of the Year in 2012 by the New York City chapter of RWA.

 

Married and the mother of two sons, Jean lives in New York City. Early in the morning, you’ll find her at her computer, writing, with a cup of tea, her rescued pug, Homer, by her side and a secret stash of black licorice.

 

Jean has 35 books, novellas and short stories published. Find them here: http://www.jeanjoachimbooks.com. Sign up for her newsletter, on her website, or using the link below, and be eligible for her private paperback sales.  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jean-JoachimAuthor/221092234568929?sk=app_100265896690345

 

Social Media Links: 

Twitter – @jeanjoachim

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jean-Joachim-Author/221092234568929

 

Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Jean-C.-Joachim/e/B001ITRQKY/

 

Goodreads –  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/334810.Jean_C_Joachim

 

Pinterest – http://www.pinterest.com/jeanjoachim/