The Destiny Series by @Hywela_Lyn Blends #ScienceFiction and #Romance! #RONA #TWRP

THE DESTINY SERIES – Each book is a complete ‘standalone’ novel




Title   STARQUEST (Volume1 in the Destiny Trilogy)

Author   Hywela Lyn

Genre   S.F./Romance

Publisher The Wild  Rose Press


Book Blurb 

When Jestine Darnell is rescued from her sabotaged starship by the crew of the Destiny her only objective is to complete her mission and keep her promise to save a world from slavery. Love is the last thing on her mind. However, she has not counted on losing her heart to Kerry Marchant the ship’s second in command, who makes his distrust of her painfully obvious, despite the chemistry between them. The completion of her mission has consequences that neither of them could have foreseen.


Enter Dahll Tarron, who becomes involved in a long and dangerous quest to find the Destiny. Fates become intertwined, perils shared, culminating in the realization that sometimes love may be so close that there is a danger it will not be recognized until it is too late…



Dahll Tarron, the owner of the Quest, the ship Jess has chartered to find the starship Destiny  has been badly wounded on planet they have been lured to by a false distress signal. They are some distance from the ship and they have to make camp for the night. Jess keeps watch.


“Dahll, are you in pain? Shall I give you something for it?”


“No, just stay…with…me.” I seated myself beside him, cradling his head in my lap. He looked so pale and vulnerable. I felt he must, in reality, be older than he looked. He certainly had more than his fair share of strength and courage and determination. “It’s going to be all right,” I said softly. “Try to get some rest.”


I loosened the fastenings of my long cloak and arranged it so it covered us both. After a while, he grew still, and I sensed he was sleeping again. I tried not to move for fear of disturbing him.


I began to grow very tired. It was a few hours before dawn, and I’d had no sleep since the previous evening. I slowly eased my aching limbs into a more comfortable position. As I did so, my eyes caught a flicker of light moving toward the entrance of the shelter.


I stiffened, suddenly alert again. Tiny, glowing tongues of flame danced in the darkness, writhing and twisting around themselves like miniature whirlpools of living fire.


At first, I thought it was a trick of my eyes, caused by fatigue. After a while I decided it was just marsh gas, but as I watched I became aware that the ‘flames’ were orderly. They moved in groups of threes and fours, gliding in straight lines and then circling to retrace their steps in what seemed to be a methodical fashion, as no Will o’ the Wisp ever did. I began to feel I was in the presence of something malevolent…evil.


Then I heard the voices. Strange, unearthly voices, which had nothing to do with flesh and blood.


“Take the male,” they hissed, “while he yet lives. Before the life-force within him dies and is of no use to us.”


“Wait. The female is stronger,” came another voice. “Stay until she sleeps. Then will be our chance, and we can take them both.”


I reached for my blaster, by now fully charged, and fired a steady beam in the direction of the ‘flames.’ When I laid down the gun there was nothing, only the darkness.


Had the voices been in my imagination, or was it a dream? But I knew I had not slept. Trying to recall the experience, as I record this, I realise they did not speak in words at all. Yet I had understood, like that time on Niflheim, with Gullin.


I’ve always loved the night, the beauty of the darkened, star-filled skies. Here, however, on this forsaken and perilous planet, it is menacing, with the sense of something lurking, lying in wait.


Much as I dislike the idea, I have resorted to using a Phidian stimulant to stay awake. For Dahll’s sake as well as my own, I can’t allow myself to sleep until we’re once more on board the Quest.


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Children of the Mist cover


Title   CHILDREN OF THE MIST (Volume 2 in the Destiny Trilogy)

Author   Hywela Lyn

Genre   S.F./Romance

Publisher The Wild Rose Press


Book Blurb


Two minds united against a common foe. Two hearts afraid to show their love:

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?



She kept climbing, losing all track of time.


She stopped to rest. She’d had little sleep and not bothered to eat before she left the camp, and hunger and exhaustion took their toll. All at once she sniffed the air. Clouds of bitter-smelling smoke drifted in a haze above her. She turned her head to one side and concentrated on climbing as swiftly as she could without losing her footing.


It was almost a shock when at last she reached the rim. She eased herself onto the icy ground, and sat for a few moments to catch her breath. Smoke hung in the air and it was obvious there had recently been a fight with power weapons.


Vidarh! Vidarh, are you here?


No answer. Nothing but silence. Abandoning caution, she adjusted her flare to full beam and swung around, stretching her arm and illuminating the ground before her. Suddenly she stood rigid. Over to her right, a large black mound, obviously the Salmaran, or what was left of her, lay inert and lifeless, face downward.


She looked all around, flashing the light on her wrist, straining her eyes for some sign of Vidarh, while calling to him in her mind. She walked away from the Salmaran woman’s body, and at last spotted Vidarh lying a considerable distance away.


His arms were flung out away from his sides, his fingers clenched around the butt of his blaster, his garments half covered in snow. She could detect no life-signs.


She ran toward him. Tears spilled down her cheeks and it seemed as if her heart would break.



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Beloved Enemy


Title  BELOVED ENEMY– Volume 3 of The Destiny Trilogy

Shortlisted for the 2017 Romance Novelists Association RoNA Award

Author   Hywela Lyn

Genre   S.F./Romance

Publisher The Wild  Rose Press


Book Blurb

Cat Kincaid is obsessed with killing the man she believes is responsible for the torture and death of her sister, but when she eventually catches up with him, survival becomes a greater priority than revenge.

Kerry Marchant, haunted by memories, regret, and self-blame, shields himself from the pain of the past by committing himself totally to the starship, Destiny, of which he is part owner. However, the beautiful, red-haired woman who reminds him of his lost love, and who he suspects is working for a corrupt regime, represents a possible threat not only to the ship, but to his heart.

Marooned on an inhospitable planet, they need to work together to stay alive, fighting not only unknown assailants, but their growing attraction. But how can they learn to trust each other when he has vowed never to get close to a woman again, and she made a solemn pledge to destroy him?



“Wha-at?” Cat flung herself sideways. Her feet slid from under her as something long and black wrapped itself round her leg, writhing and tightening its coils. She hit the ground hard, rolling over to her shoulder, almost deafened by the sound of Kerry’s blaster. The water sprayed up from the river and her throat burned with the acrid smell of blaster emissions and burning flesh. Gravel and pebbles dug into her skin through the fabric of her clothing, as something dragged her toward the edge of the bank. She bit back a cry of horror as she glanced over her shoulder at the thing twining itself around her leg. An icy fear went through her. Snakes—the only creatures she really feared. She aimed her pistol and then realized it was not a serpent that dragged her toward the river, but a long, rubbery tentacle fastened around the tough material of her leggings and boot.


Before she could activate the weapon, Kerry let off another barrage of plasma bolts into the river. He leapt toward her and ripped the severed tentacle from her leg. It flapped around on the wet grass. She scrambled to her knees, still slightly winded, and fired at the hideous thing. The foliage around it flared briefly with an eerie green flame, and the tentacle shrivelled into a slimy black mass, emitting a pungent odour and causing her to gag.


“It seems I was mistaken about the creature being dead.” Kerry prodded the smouldering mass with his boot and looked across over the water. “It is now.” He leaned down and grasped her wrist to haul her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”


“No, I don’t think so.” Her shoulder was sore and probably bruised but she’d live.


She tried to control her shivering. The incident affected her more than she wanted to admit. Kerry’s proximity—naked to the waist, his lithe body shining from the water droplets that still clung to his skin, and his legs swathed in tight black leather—did nothing to help. The last thing she wanted was for him to realize how scared she’d been when she thought a snake attacked her.


“Thanks. That was close. It would have been a bit ironic if I’d been killed by the same creature I saved you from.”


She realized he still grasped her wrist. She tried to move away, but he pulled her back, obliging her to turn to him.


“You’re trembling.”


“I’m fine.”


“No,” he said. “You’re not.” He pulled her closer and his eyes softened, his gaze holding her mesmerized. She opened her mouth to try to speak, but in the same instant, he put his hand under her chin and his lips closed over hers.


For a brief moment, she tried to resist but found herself drawn into his kiss as he deepened it, his hand brushing lightly through her hair. For a long moment, time seemed to stand still, and nothing mattered except his lips burning on hers. His tongue teased her own, demanding and insistent, his lips incredibly sensuous, firm, caressing. Through the thin material of her shirt, Cat felt the warmth of his bare chest pressed hard against her breasts. The cold metal of the capsule he obviously did not take off, even to bathe, dug into her skin, but the slight discomfort was nothing compared to the turmoil in her mind.


Without any conscious action on her part, her arms slipped around his neck. She traced the damp skin of his shoulders with her fingers and felt the ridges of old scars on his back. Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest, and her blood coursed like liquid fire through her veins.


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Hywela Lyn


Author Biography

Hywela Lyn lives in a small English village with her husband Dave, although she was born in rural Wales where she spent her childhood and most of her adult life. The rugged Welsh landscapes inspired much of her writing.


She is published by The Wild Rose Press and and her latest novel is Beloved Enemy, the third of a Science Fiction Romance Trilogy The Destiny Trilogy. 


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 still retain their femininity! 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, reading – or just eating chocolate!


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Havenport … A Seaside Town Where #Romance is Just Around the Corner @RuthACasie #books



Title Christmas in Havenport

Author Ruth A. Casie

Genre Holiday Romance, Contemporary Romance

Publisher Timeless Scribes


Book Blurb

In the quaint seaside town of Havenport, Rhode Island, five couples find their happily ever afters with a little help from the romance section of The Final Chapter bookstore.


Ruth A. Casie ~ I’ll Be Home for Christmas


Beth Alexander, best-selling romance writer, has lost her muse, her fan base, and maybe the loyalty of her beloved agent. Sales of her new release plummet on the best seller list, and her contract with her publisher is in jeopardy. A heat-of-the-moment social media comment about a rival author goes viral, and not in a good way. No one knows that the rival author is the stuff male cover models are made of, least of all Beth Alexander. She heads home to Havenport, Rhode Island for a Christmas book signing, and a chance to lay low and let the storm pass.


Beth’s chance encounter with a handsome, witty stranger has her heart racing, and her muse seemingly back. But, will the new story line she’s created save her career? Or will her handsome savior betray her and turn out to be her worst nightmare?


Lita Harris ~ Winter Wonderland


Olivia Baxter struggles with her indecision to return to college and heads to Havenport, Rhode Island to visit her aunt during winter break. Memories of prior Christmas’ emerge, and a chance meeting with an interesting stranger makes Olivia think twice about staying in New England or returning to her studies.


Max Porter has been searching for his biological parents, which leads him to Havenport, Rhode Island. He wanders into the Final Chapter bookstore and befriends Olivia, an open minded, and warm person who wants to help him find the answers to his past.


Together, the young couple discover new things about themselves that lead them to think about where their lives may lead next. Will they move on to the next chapter together, or go their separate ways?


Emma Kaye ~ Baby, It’s Cold Outside


Jane Caulfield should have known better than to read aloud from a book of magick during her famous sister-in-law’s book signing at The Final Chapter bookstore. After all, the last spell she cast brought her and her brother forward in time two hundred years. She knows the power of magick.


She didn’t know the spell would bring her nineteenth century love, Adam Royce, forward in time. Or that he would assume he’d died and joined her in heaven. Jane gets more than she bargained for trying to persuade Adam they’re both alive and in the twenty-first century.


Jane knows they’re soul mates, but convincing Adam may not be so easy. Will Adam insist on returning to his own time, or can Jane use both love and a little magick to help him understand that this time and place is exactly where he’s meant to be?


Nicole S. Patrick ~ White Christmas


Prosecutor Savannah Moore’s life changed in an instant. Career on hiatus, recovering from an attack, she finds solace for the holidays in the town of Havenport, Rhode Island.  A change of pace for sure. Just what she needs to heal and rebuild her confidence to testify against her attacker. An unexpected meeting of gorgeous Marc “Mac” MacDonald leaves Savannah unsure of her next move. Should she stay in Havenport with this brave, sexy, and hard, yet gentle former Marine? Or, should she return to the crazy life of courtrooms and cases? Mac helps her understand that taking one day at a time might lead to a future she least expected.


Mac MacDonald has finally found a place to call home. A place where he feels part of a family. His car repair business is booming, his former girlfriend and all her drama is history, and he’s ready to move on to the next chapter in his life. Savannah Moore is cute, sexy, and tougher than she looks. But when someone tries to hurt her, Mac realizes he’s never had this intense degree of protective instincts for anyone, not even in combat. Savannah has touched a place in his heart that surprises and thrills him. Can he convince her to let this thing between them grow?


Julie Rowe ~ Merry Christmas, Baby


Marine biologist Mattie Clark is moving back to her hometown after the break-up of her marriage, but she doesn’t expect to run into her high school crush (literally) only days after returning, or to discover he’s not the smooth operator she remembers. Charles Walker survived a horrific fire only to have his whole world fall apart. His fiancé walked out on him, taking his confidence in himself with her. His own family avoids him now, uncomfortable with the scars he carries. He sinks into a depression nothing will cure, except a short, curvy tornado named Mattie Clark. She seems determined to pull him out of the black hole he’s been living in, but is this a short term fling or is she willing to stay for the long haul?




“Excuse me,” the librarian announced. “Please finish up. The library closes in fifteen minutes.”

Six o’clock. Research was a singular process for him. The solitude good for concentration, but isolating. These past few hours sitting across from Beth were comfortable and productive. He’d filled up pages in his notebook. He glanced at her. She pulled the newspaper out of her shoes.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He took the shoes out of her hand. Kneeling in front of her he grasped the heel of her foot. The intimate touch had him breathing hard. It made her giggle.

His face turned up, one eyebrow raised.

“I haven’t played Princess of the castle since I was a kid and my brother got too old to play the Prince. We’d use Mom’s clear plastic high heels for glass slippers.” She let out another giggle, which got her a loud shush from Wilma.

She had no idea how her unassuming joy and the intimate touch affected him. He slipped the boot on her. “Ah, m’lady you must be the Princess.” He stood and gave his best attempt at a courtly bow before he formally offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

She stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her neck flushed and when he gazed into her eyes intelligence and friendship stared back at him. That was something to build on.

The moment passed and she broke away, gathered her things, and stepped over to Wilma’s desk to check out the armful of books she’d accumulated. Finished with Wilma, she headed to the door.

He packed his things and returned his books to the cart. Out of the corner of his eye he admired the sway of her hips and shape of her leg. She was dynamite in those high heel boots but in this weather she’d kill herself. He straightened his shoulders and stepped up beside her at the library door, ready to leave.

He followed her gaze out the glass door. There had to be six inches of snow on the ground.

“I have to get to the Inn,” she murmured. The rumbling of a motor and loud scraping sound caught his attention. Through the falling snow, yellow lights flashed and the snowplow came into view. The lumbering truck pushed the snow aside, clearing the street down to the asphalt. It moved slowly past the library.

“If we follow behind the plow you might be able to save your shoes,” he said.

“Or else we’ll have to come back and borrow Wilma’s spray.” He smiled at the trace of laughter in her voice.

He opened the door for her. The air smelled frosty and cold, but close to her the scent of vanilla and spice captured his attention. He helped her off the curb.

No way would she be able to navigate the slick surface wearing those boots with all she carried. He slung her computer bag over his shoulder and took half of her research materials.

A tentative step and she slid on the slippery street. He put his free arm around her and tucked her into his side for safekeeping. “Ready?” he asked her. She nodded and they followed the snowplow, creating a small parade.

“I was thinking about what you mentioned earlier regarding a woman’s sexuality. Men think differently than women,” she said. “A woman’s sexual turn-on is more complicated than a man’s.” He fumbled with the books he held. Her words froze in his brain.

“You mean women don’t think about sex as…enthusiastically as men?” This wasn’t new to him. Every guy knew women weren’t instantly turned on. But he’d never philosophized about or discussed sex. Not with a woman.

Beth’s voice dropped to an intimate whisper. With her tucked close to his side, her fragrance, and talking sexual attraction had him breathing hard. He wanted to take her in his arms and find out how soft and delicious her lips tasted.

“Oh, women are enthusiastic but we need… a plot, like a novel,” she blurted.

The idea clicked in his mind. “Ah, romance, a build-up—”

“Yes. It’s the anticipation, even for a casual encounter.”

Now it made sense. Clinically speaking, the build-up gives a woman time to receive and interpret the message on an intellectual level, then send the signal to her body parts for arousal.

“I understand. A woman has to connect with a man to have sex, while for a man, sex is the connection.” She stopped and gazed at him with those big brown eyes. He wondered if his signal was getting through to her. His heart pounded against his chest loud enough for her to hear. A wind swept down the street and she shivered.

“Jeez, you’re cold.” He pulled her closer and moved them on.

They entered the Inn. The blast of heat from the fireplace defrosted him as he stamped the snow off his shoes. She did the same. He stared at her boots.

“They seem fine,” she said. He escorted her upstairs, still carrying her computer bag and books.

“I had a great afternoon. You don’t have to walk me to my room,” she said as they climbed the stairs. He gazed at her flushed face, not sure if it was pink from the cold or the closeness they established.

As she opened her door, he pulled the computer off his shoulder and placed it inside. Before he could say a word, she put her lips on his. They were soft and inviting. Better than he anticipated. He deepened the kiss not knowing where this would lead and not caring until the sound of feet tramping up the stairs reached his ears. They broke apart.

“I better go. Thanks.” She slipped inside. The latch closed with a click.


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Ruth A Casie close


Author Biography

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


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Title Welcome to Havenport


Book Blurb

A multi-author romance novella boxed set.


Get the latest with Havenport Herald’s very own gossip queen, Candy Apples.
Gossip with a snarky, tart bite…




After a much-needed revamping of The Final Chapter, resident sweetie Olivia Baxter has reopened the bookstore as A New Chapter–and launched Serendipity, a metaphysical shop next door. But that’s not all she’s been up to. The grapevine tells me that cutie Max Porter is back in town, and they’ve made an intimate connection. Sounds intriguing. After all, there’s nothing better for New Beginnings than young love…


* * *

Rumor has it Christa Morrow skipped town on that hunky Jeremy Pearce months ago. Heard he wasn’t so faithful. Now she’s back…and I love to see a man grovel. There’s something strange in the air around these two. A little magick? Hocus-pocus, and maybe they’ll be a couple again. Can’t wait to watch. Christa might just be able to get Jeremy back and Under Her Spell.


* * *


Did you hear Beth Holmes and JD Watson are in town? Will sparks fly? Only if it’s the ones between these two lovebirds. Pick up autographed copies of their latest best sellers at their tent. Now those two should craft a book together. He writes compelling mystery and her steamy stuff is to die for. Adventure on the horizon? Who knows…maybe The Game’s AFoot.


* * *


I’ll be keeping my eye on Augusta Moore, owner of Wags and Walks, who’ll have a tent set up for the animal shelter during the July Fourth festivities. Why isn’t she attached? She’s irresistible with those furry cuties she helps get adopted. And don’t forget to cheer for our very own Evan Washburn in the parade. The hunky Marine can save me any day. Who doesn’t love a man in uniform? He’s throwing his hat in the ring for town council, too. Havenport could benefit from a Hometown Hero. Hmm…sounds like a match made in Havenport heaven…


* * *


Enjoy the July 4th parade and celebration, including vendor tents, food and Mayor Owen to kick things off. Fireworks display over the harbor starting at 10PM. (weather permitting)
Happy July 4th!



“I don’t know why I let the town council talk me into co-chairing the July Fourth celebration.” Her biting tone wasn’t meant to deceive him. She was very aware why she agreed. The offer at Christmas played to her wounded ego.

“They convinced you Beth Alexander would draw more people than last year’s co-chair. Even Jean agreed.”

“Yeah, easy for Jean to say. She’s my agent with no idea what it takes to run an event like this. More to the point, she’s not in Havenport herding cats. So why am I doing this?”

“Because you love it. You whip up people with your passion. That’s how you convinced me to do the book signing with you at the fair tomorrow.”

“If I remember correctly, I ‘whipped you up with my passion’ quite nicely before you left. You didn’t complain.” Images of their last night together flashed in her mind. They’d spent the day at the beach.

He wore his diving brief, which left nothing to the imagination. His broad shoulders, well-defined abs, and trim waist were romance-cover worthy. Dark wavy hair set off hazel eyes, which held a look of warmth and desire. Their lovemaking was more than heart-stopping strokes and touches. Much more. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the porch window to counter the heat threatening to burn her to a crisp.

“You still there, or did I hit a dead zone?”

“I’m here. Lost in the vision of ‘whipping you up.’” She stepped to the side table, breaking the conjured spell, and took a long drink of lemonade. The tartness quenched her thirst, but didn’t satisfy her other craving. That had to wait until Jarred got home.

“Yeah, me, too.” His voice rumbled with a soft, teasing laugh that he usually combined with a smart-ass Bruce Willis smirk.

She needed to get her mind on something else. She was so past mooning over him like a love-struck teenager. Her inner teen giggled. No, she was definitely a love-struck thirtysomething.


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Title Haunted Havenport


Book Blurb

A multi-author romance novella boxed set.

Get the latest with Havenport Herald’s very own gossip queen, Candy Apples.
Gossip with a snarky, tart bite…

Ghosts Take Over Havenport!

Not real ghosts, don’t be silly people! Halloween is right around the corner and folks are gearing up for the annual Halloween ball at Havencroft Manor. I know I have my costume all picked out, how about you? Lets hope Mrs. X can come up with something new this year, she almost split the seams of her Naughty Nurse costume last year. Yikes!


The Witching Hour will soon be upon us—anyone think Havencroft Manor’s most famous dearly departed will stop by for a visit? Such a haunting tale of love and betrayal makes this gossip columnist stand up and take notice. Keep reading, and we’ll take a stroll down memory lane to find out all the juicy details.


The room above Serendipity is open for business. Looks like they kicked off rentals with a séance on behalf of our favorite philanthropist. Rumor has it, he has a ghost problem. Some say he’s trying to get rid of the problem, while others are convinced he’s trying to bring The Ghost of You back to life. With the Goddess’s help, I guess anything’s possible.


Sorry, ladies, but looks like our hunky veterinarian may be off the market soon. A certain divorcee was hired to spruce up his bachelor pad, but from the look of things, my money’s on them turning it into a family home instead. Should be cozy with their latest rescue dog and the soldier’s spirit that tagged along. So long as A Spirit’s Bond doesn’t stand in their way, should be fun to watch.


They say the new widow in town has a way with ghosts. In fact, one may have followed her into town. To help or hinder? Hard to tell. Maybe the ruggedly handsome carpenter fixing up Havencroft Manor will find a way to help out a Kindred Spirit.


Come to think of it, maybe I spoke too soon about those ghosts.

Don’t forget to stock up on candy and have a Happy Halloween!

~Candy Apples




Read an Excerpt on Amazon


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Emerging From Darkness Trilogy by @JMMaurer1 is a Spectacular Romantic Series! #romance


Title Seeking Love (Book 1)

Series Title Emerging From Darkness Trilogy

Author J.M. Maurer

Genre Contemporary Romance 18+

Book Blurb

Three years after a bitter divorce, Jessica Winters isn’t sure she’s ready—or capable—to move on. The thought of another relationship terrifies her, but things quickly change when she meets the playfully witty and handsome sex therapist Matthew Moi. At first, she tries to ignore him, but something in the way he levels his sultry gaze on her awakens her soul.

Secretly in love with Jessica, Matthew has been giving her the space she needed to heal. Incapable of waiting any longer and eager to work his way into her broken heart, he seizes an opportunity to have their paths cross. But when her painful past resurfaces, revealing truths that threaten their future, Matthew must prove to Jessica that a shot at true love is worth the risk.


One thing I knew: I wasn’t that woman anymore. I wouldn’t be her anymore.

My heart was racing at the thought of being separated from Matthew by only the door, and I watched as it opened, knowing he stood mere feet away. I drew in a deep breath to calm my frantic nerves and steady my racing heart. It was the moment my eyes would see him again, and the same moment I knew all involuntary muscle movements would cease.

As Matthew stepped in and around the door, his alluring eyes captured me. The feeling was nothing new. I’d been imprisoned by his gaze before. And locked in it again, I watched as he drifted to me, the indisputable chemistry between us palpable and absolute. His mesmerizing eyes had hypnotized my burning soul, completely bewitching me.

“Hello, Jessica,” he murmured, pointing to an open area of the bed. “Mind if I sit?”

I gave a slight shake of my head, having difficulty forming the simple word “no,” and watched as he made himself comfortable facing me. His crisp charcoal-colored trousers bunched as he scooted on the bed. My sight roamed along his classic plum-colored dress shirt and stopped searching once I focused on his face.

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J M Maurer

Author Biography

J.M. started working as a registered nurse in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit where she cared for critically ill children, transported them from outlying hospitals, and even picked up overtime hours treating patients of all ages while inside a hyperbaric chamber. Holding a Bachelor’s degree in nursing, she loves to write about strong characters and their struggles in life. Her books explore themes of revenge, redemption, and hope along with the intrigue of true love, sex, and marriage.

An incurable romantic with a penchant for dark chocolate and red wine, no matter what trials or tortures her characters face, love will always prevail . . . because, after all, what’s better than a happily-ever-after?

When not writing, you can find her spending time with family and friends, exploring the outdoors, or attempting most any sport. She resides in Chicago with her husband and son.

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Title Seeking Redemption (Book 2)

Author J.M. Maurer

Genre Contemporary Romance 18+

Book Blurb

After surviving a bitter divorce and emerging from a darkness that became all too familiar, Jessica finds herself on top of the world, her soulful awakening allowing her to feel again, trust again, and even love again. Her painful past, however, is relentless, both physically and emotionally, bombarding her daily and not allowing her to overcome the lingering demons that ultimately control her life.

As Matthew lovingly guides her toward a healthy future, his own secrets become known, threatening to destroy the trusting relationship that had quickly grown between them. But despite what life throws her way, Jessica pledges to put the past in the past, accepting that events are often out of her control. She fights for a future with the man who drew her out of the darkness, steering her onto a healing path . . . seeking redemption.


“Jess!” The strained howl of my name traveled through the air and instinctively I twisted, searching out the voice I’d been aching to hear.

I scoured the streets beyond the emergency vehicles that were now barricading the intersection before me, and my body sparked with fiery life when I saw Matthew. From up the street, he ran at a full sprint toward me, shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and locked his eyes with mine, his wavy hair blowing wildly in the wind.

I ran to him, bridging the gap between us, and as soon as I could, threw my arms around him and cried.

He leaned back and ran his hands along my hair and cupped the sides of my face. “God, Jess.” He looked at me, his eyes full of love and concern, and scanned my body for injuries. “Do you need to go to the ER?”

I shook my head. “It happened in front of me. I’m anxious and worried, that’s all.”

“Want to go anyway?” he asked, kindhearted and soothing, his touch somehow slowing the beat of my racing heart.

He wasn’t asking because he wanted me checked out, although he might have wanted that too. Most likely he offered because he knew I’d need closure and wouldn’t be able to shake the events until I had it.

“I’d done my part, emergency responders had taken over, and now, even though I couldn’t stand him, Dr. Burdick was poised to oversee care. And with the best of care now tending to the boy, as hard as it was for me to do it, I had to let go.

“I did the best I could.” I frowned, my nerves calming from his tender touch.

“I’m sure you did.” He lifted my chin, a slight smile forming on his lips.

“Burdick will text you, let you know what’s going on, right?” He nodded and I sighed. “Then let’s go home.”

He bent forward and pressed his lips to mine, his kiss sweet and warm, but all too brief. “Home it is,” he murmured and pulled my hand to his, linking them together, and then walked us back to my car.

I pressed the button on my key fob to unlock my car, then looked back one last time, seeing the officers finish the cleanup as Matthew opened the front passenger door. I turned to him, reached out while looking up into his caring eyes, and placed my hand on his arm. “Where’s the Range Rover?”

“I ran here.”

“All the way?” I estimated his run across the river bridge at a mile, if not more.

A tear slid down my cheek, and Matthew’s shoulders sank as his grip circling my upper arms tightened. “I’d run across an ocean to get to you, Jess.”

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SH Amazon

Title Seeking Hope (Book 3)

Author J.M. Maurer

Genre Contemporary Romance 18+

Book Blurb

Jessica and Matthew’s captivating love story comes to an epic conclusion in the final installment of J.M. Maurer’s Emerging From Darkness trilogy that began with the novels Seeking Love and Seeking Redemption.

I’d been given promises in the past, all of which were broken.
Inevitably, they broke me.
I wouldn’t let those broken promises stop me from believing in new ones, though.
I couldn’t.

Matthew Moi was different.
His dimpled smile and witty sexual banter has held me spellbound since day one.
Falling in love with him came easy.
Marrying him—a dream come true.

Now, he wants something I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for.
As I struggle, he faithfully remains at my side.
Through it all, his protective nature shields me from an evil I didn’t see coming.

Together, we have it all—love, passion, trust.
Apart, the possibilities are endless, even death.

Seeking Hope is the final book in the Emerging From Darkness trilogy, and as such, is not intended to be a standalone. The trilogy reads as: Seeking Love, Seeking Redemption, & Seeking Hope.

Follow Jessica and Matthew’s captivating and steamy love story from the beginning—start the trilogy today!


“Take a look at that.”

I turned, feeling both the boat as it glided across the water and the salty, moist air, and looked west. The brilliant amber color of the sun took away my breath. I smiled as Matthew snuggled in behind me at the edge of the boat. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into him.

“This moment is perfect.” I looked over my shoulder, thinking about the sun as it kissed the sea, and locked my sight on Matthew. “This evening is perfect. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He tapped my lips with his. “How long do you think we have until the sun completely disappears?”

“A couple of minutes, maybe.” For me, it would never be long enough. I could gaze at the setting sun forever.

He squeezed his arms, tightening his hold on me, almost as if reading my mind. “Forever, we’ll have each other, and there’s not a sunset or a full moon that’s more beautiful than what we have. Our love is always and forever.”

I turned to him, seeing beyond the red sky of the night as it reflected in his eyes, and kissed him. I was grateful to be tucking this perfect two-minute-moment of time, our personal sailor’s delight, into my heart—forever.

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The Author Behind – and Within – The Ceruleans: @BookishCharlie #NA #Giveaway #books



‘Every author in some way portrays himself in his works, even if it be against his will.’ I knew this quotation from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe from my university days, but until I wrote The Ceruleans, I had no idea how accurate it is.

When I set out to write The Ceruleans series, I knew there would be something of myself in it, because a central concept in the first book, Death Wish, of grief in the aftermath of losing a loved one, was inspired by my own experiences. ‘Write what you know’ is an old adage and a good one; I know grief, so I decided to write about grief.

I did not, however, intend to write five books that so closely aligned to my own emotional journey. As I write in the author’s note at the end of Book 5: ‘The story isn’t my own, but the feelings are, and it has been dark and deep and beautiful to share these truths with you.

Neither did I intend to write a heroine with such a similar disposition to me. Scarlett differs from me in some pretty significant ways, but her sensitivity and her desire for a quiet life come directly from me. Would I like to live in cottage on a cliff in a sleepy Devonshire cove? Absolutely!

Remember Goethe’s words ‘even if it be against his will’? As a writer, when you discover you are exposing parts of yourself through fiction, you feel vulnerable; and that drives a desire to hack away at the manuscript, stripping yourself out. I could have rewritten The Ceruleans with a more thick-skinned heroine and less emotional resonance. I didn’t, though, because where’s the meaning in that?

As Franz Kafka put it, ‘Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.’ Publishing your writing, however, offers a way out of that solitude – if you’ve been honest and brave enough to infuse the writing with elements of yourself, so that you are not merely the author behind the words, but the author within the words.



Death Wish (The Ceruleans I) by Charlotte Wilson


Seventeen-year-old Scarlett Blake is haunted by death. Her sister has made the ultimate dramatic exit: run away from school, join a surfing fraternity, drown in a tragic ‘accident’.

Following in her sister’s footsteps, Scarlett comes to an isolated English cove to uncover the truth. And, as it turns out, to fall in love with the place and its people, especially a certain blue-eyed surfer with a serious case of the heroics.

But as Scarlett’s quest for the truth unravels, so too does her grip on reality as she’s always known it. Because there’s something strange going on in this little cove. A dead magpie circles the skies. A dead deer watches from the undergrowth. Hands glow with light. Power.

What transpires is a summer of discovery: of what it means to conquer fear, to fall in love, to choose life, to choose death.

To believe the impossible.



Forget Me Not (The Ceruleans II) by Charlotte Wilson


Death is stalking Scarlett Blake. As if the encroaching darkness in her head wasn’t enough, she’s become disturbingly accident prone. Falling off a cliff isn’t ideal when all you want is as much time as possible to live the life you love.

But the clock is ticking, louder with every heartbeat, and now Scarlett must decide how best to protect the people she loves.

Will she trust in Jude and the life-after-death he promises? Will she stand against the Fallen, who have her sister captive? Will she carry the burden of her death alone – every headache, every hallucination, every harrowing emotion?

And when the clock falls silent, will Scarlett fight for life? Or will she surrender to the one who’s determined to kill her?



Wild Blue Yonder (The Ceruleans III) by Charlotte Wilson


When Scarlett Blake chose to Become a Cerulean, she expected to grieve for all she left behind. But at least Cerulea, her heaven, would be… well, heavenly. Right?

Wrong. The world in which Scarlett awakens is picturesque, sure, and serene. But there can be no paradise within the unforgiving walls of a prison, be they of cold, hard stone or beautifully blue water.

Now Scarlett faces her hardest decision yet: be a good, dutiful Cerulean, or be true to herself and fight for freedom.

And if she can find a way to escape, what then? Can she save her sister from the murderous Fallen? Can she evade her destiny with the Ceruleans? Can she ever reclaim her life-before-death… or must she let go of all she loves?



Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans IV) by Charlotte Wilson


Scarlett is living her happy-ever-after, back in the real world. Only the ‘happy’ part is proving problematic.

For starters, there’s the isolation. Being a Cerulean among humans is fraught with risk, so time with those she loves can only be fleeting.

Then there’s her power over life and death. Less awesome talent, as it turns out, and more overwhelming responsibility – and it comes with rules that are increasingly difficult to obey.

But what’s really pushing Scarlett to the precipice is something much bigger than her life in the cove. A force to be reckoned with: blood.

When long-buried truths are exposed, will Scarlett keep her head above water – or will she drown in the blood-dimmed tide that is unleashed?



Darkly, Deeply, Beautifully (The Ceruleans V) by Charlotte Wilson


With her mother’s life hanging in the balance, Scarlett is devastated – and done with being in the dark. She wants answers, all of them.

But when was her pursuit of the truth ever straightforward?

Pulling a single thread impels a great unravelling. And each revelation will force Scarlett to rethink what she thought she knew about the Ceruleans, the Fallen, her family – herself.

All that came before was a mere prelude to this, the final journey – to where it all began and it all must end. But in the final reckoning, none will survive unscathed. And some will not survive at all.

In this explosive conclusion to The Ceruleans series, all must be defined by their actions: sinner, saint… or something more beautiful entirely?




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Charlotte Wilson Biography:

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

Thirty-odd years later, Charlotte is a professional writer. For authors and publishers, she writes and edits books as The Book Specialist. For herself, she writes soulful, coming-of-age romance for young adults.

Charlotte grew up in the Royal County, a hop, skip and a (very long) jump from Windsor Castle, but these days she makes her home in a village of Greater Manchester with her husband and two children. When she’s not reading or writing, you’ll find her walking someplace green, baking up a storm, or embarking on a DIY project. She recently achieved a lifetime ambition of creating a library in her home to house her ever-increasing collection of books. She pretends not to notice that the shelves are rather wonky.


You can find Charlotte online at:



Did someone say free books? Yes, five of them.

Charlotte’s  giving away a full set of the Ceruleans novels in print: that’s all the new-edition paperbacks delivered to your door (wherever that is in the world).

Entry is via Rafflecopter below, and is open to all. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway


The Hitching Post Hotel series by @BarbaraWDaille is #Romance at its Best! #MFRWAuthor #Harlequin

The Cowboy's Little Surprise

Title  The Cowboy’s Little Surprise, Book One, The Hitching Post Hotel series

Author  Barbara White Daille

Genre  Contemporary Romance

Publisher  Harlequin Books


Book Blurb


A guy like Cole Slater is hard to forget. Tina Sanchez should know—for years since high school she’s tried to bury the pain of Cole’s cruel betrayal. But it’s impossible to ignore the man she sees reflected in her young son’s eyes now that Cole is back in her life—and about to meet the child he never knew he had.

Returning home to New Mexico, Cole is determined to put his playboy reputation to rest. Especially now that he knows there’s a little boy looking up to him. And seeing Tina again reignites all the feelings Cole ran from as a teen. Despite his fear that he can’t be the man Tina deserves, he’s determined to try. For his son’s sake—and his own.



She should have known better than to fall for Cole Slater. At the tender age of seven, she had already heard about his reputation as a sweet-talker. By junior high, he had progressed to a real player. And by senior high, he had turned love-’em-and-leave-`em into an art form, changing girlfriends as often as she replaced guest towels here at the Hitching Post.

Too bad she hadn’t remembered all that when he had finally turned his attention her way.

He shoved his hands into his back pockets, which pulled his shirt taut against his chest. Now, she felt herself flushing as she recalled the one and only time—

No, she wasn’t going there.

And he wasn’t staying here. “You must have made a wrong turn somewhere. I suggest you find your vehicle, wherever you might have left it—”

“I parked near the barn—”

“—and be on your way.”

“—and to answer your question, I came to see Jed.”

“What for?”

“He invited me.”

“Then I assume you’ve seen him already and, as I said, you can be on your way.”

“You and I need to have something out first.”

Please, no. Had he caught a glimpse of Robbie, after all?

He shifted his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t expect to run into you this soon, but since we’ve met up, it’s as good a time as any to talk.”

“I don’t really have anything to say to you.”

“But I’ve got something to say to you.”

He ducked his head, looking suddenly like the kindergartner made to give back the lollipop he’d just sweet-talked out of her hand. Even in those days, she’d have given him anything.

One night in high school, she’d proven that.

She turned to the truck and grabbed another sack. “I’m busy, sorry.”

“I’ll give you a hand, and then we can talk.”

“No.” He had stepped up beside her and stood only a few inches away. His nearness unsettled her.

The thought of him going back into the hotel upset her even more.

While she and Abuela had been in town, her son had stayed over at the ranch manager’s house on the property. But Pete’s housekeeper might be bringing Robbie back home any minute.

“All right,” she conceded. “Say whatever you want to say right here.”

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked. “What?”

He ducked his head again, then tugged the brim of his hat down, shading his eyes. “Look, I know I acted like a real jerk to you back in high school.”

“High school? You mean that lunchtime you turned me down when I asked you to the dance?” The time you humiliated me in front of everyone in the school cafeteria? “I’m over that.”

“You are?”

“Of course.”

“Well. That’s good. But I still feel I owe you an apology.”

“Oh, please. Don’t even think twice about it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She forced a smile and hoped he couldn’t see her grinding her teeth in frustration. She just wanted him gone. Off the ranch. Anywhere but right here, right now.

“Well, that’s good,” he said again. “I’m glad you’re not holding any bad feelings against me, since we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

“I doubt it. The hotel keeps me busy and close to home. I don’t go into town much.”

“You won’t have to.” His smile didn’t look the least bit forced. “You’ll see me here. I’m back to working for Jed.”


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Barbara White Daille

Author Biography

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


Barbara wrote her first short story at the age of nine, then typed “The End” to her first novel many years later…in the eighth grade. Now she’s writing contemporary romance on a daily basis, with a brand-new series from Entangled Bliss (Snowflake Valley), an ongoing series from Harlequin Western Romance (The Hitching Post Hotel), and many more books on the schedule.


She would love to have you stop by her website and blog and to look for her the next time you’re on Facebook and Twitter.


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A Rancher of Her Own

Title  A Rancher of Her Own, Book Two, The Hitching Post Hotel series

Author  Barbara White Daille

Genre  Contemporary Romance

Publisher  Harlequin Books


Book Blurb


Ranch manager Pete Brannigan has no interest in playing tour guide to a city slicker like Jane Garland. But spending a few days with the headstrong photographer is a small price to pay for everything her grandfather has given the single dad. Though Pete’s drawn to Jane’s sharp wit and striking beauty, he won’t hurt his young children by falling for another woman who puts her career before family.

Jane’s seen the world through her camera…and used it to shield her emotions. With Pete, she can finally let her guard down. If only he could do the same. Despite their powerful bond, Pete still can’t trust Jane with his kids or his heart. But if he keeps pushing her away, he may ruin any chance their relationship has to develop.



Silently, he watched her. Over the years he’d avoided coming in contact with her, his long-distance eyesight must have begun to fail. He hadn’t realized she looked this good close-up. Tall and slim, she had pale, perfect skin he wouldn’t dare touch with his workman’s hands and straight black hair that glistened in the light, tempting him to run his fingers through it.

Every time he’d seen her, she was dressed head-to-foot in black, and now was no exception. He didn’t get why anyone would feel an attraction for the color, a stark reminder to him of funerals and the day they’d laid his mama to rest. But he managed to look beyond Jane’s taste in clothes long enough to check her out.

Today she wore a pair of jeans topped by a loose T-shirt. The only color on her—if you could call it that—came from the cold strands of the silver necklace dangling almost to her waist. She looked as out of place in here as he’d have looked at an opera house.

When she focused on the final stall in the row, old Daffodil stuck her head through the open door. Swaybacked, bowlegged, and cantankerous when she chose to go that route, the mare lived out her days in comfort thanks to Jed, with Pete’s assistance.

Jane gave a throaty chuckle that yanked his attention back to her. The sound seemed to echo in the cavernous barn…and to rattle something deep inside him.

“C’mon, girl, let’s see the profile.”

“That’ll be the day when you can get her to pay attention,” he said with a grin, trying to shake off his reaction to her.

“I pity the animals you work with, if that’s your attitude toward them.”

His grin slid away. “And what are you, a horse whisperer?”


“Besides, it’s not my attitude.” He wondered why he was bothering to explain. “Daffodil’s as high-spirited as they come, but danged stubborn, too.” The words made a picture in his mind of a teenager giving him backtalk. “Does that description remind you of anyone?”

She looked his way again. Even with her back to the sunlight in the doorway, he saw her eyes gleam.

She remembered that summer vacation she’d spent here on the ranch, all right—he’d bet the jar of Buffalo nickels he was saving for his son on that.

“You think you’re going to win old Daffodil over to your side, huh?” he said.

“Yes. With the right incentive.”

As she passed him on her way to the stall, the scents of vanilla and spice drifted toward him, light but noticeable enough to set off a craving for something sweet, and surprising enough to make him blink. She’d never seemed the sweet, vanilla type.

She held out a hand. “What do you say, Daff? Want to be a cover girl?”

At the question, Pete’s shoulders went rigid.

The old mare dipped her head, as if giving Jane a royal nod and permission to do what she liked.

Dang, the woman has a way with a horse, after all.

Then he noticed she held her palm upward. “That’s cheating.”

“All’s fair in love and getting the perfect shot.” Once Daffodil took the sugar cube from her hand, Jane stepped back and began clicking again.

“I doubt any newlyweds will want souvenir photos of an old, past-her-prime mare.”

“These are for me.”

He couldn’t keep his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise.


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The Lawman's Christmas Proposal

Title  The Lawman’s Christmas Proposal, Book Three, The Hitching Post Hotel series

Author  Barbara White Daille

Genre  Contemporary Romance

Publisher  Harlequin Books


Book Blurb


Mitch Weston’s back in Cowboy Creek, and self-proclaimed matchmaker Jed Garland has his single granddaughter Andi on his mind. Mitch is a lawman, good with the little ones and easy on the eyes. He and Andi were high school sweethearts, for heaven’s sake! Why can’t they see they’re perfect for each other?

Because Andi already lost one husband to a dangerous job, and now she’s all about playing it safe, for her sake and her children’s. Being a cop is everything to Mitch. After discovering Jed’s plan, Mitch and Andi come up with their own: they’ll pretend to get engaged and then break up due to irreconcilable differences. Jed’s got his work cut out for him—because this match needs a Christmas miracle!



“Tell me about your kids.”

The light in her face told him he’d said the right thing. The same light he once saw when she looked at him.

“Trey is two, almost three.”

“Ah. The terrible twos?” When her eyes widened in surprise, he shrugged. “I remember my brothers and sisters going through them.”

“Well, I’ll admit my son has had his moments.” A smile lit her face even more. “It’s been good for Trey to be here on the ranch and around Tina’s son, Robbie, and Pete’s two kids. You remember Pete Brannigan?”

He nodded. “Jed said he’s ranch manager now. And he did mention the kids.”

“Yes. He has a girl and boy of his own. All three of the kids are just old enough not to take any interest yet in my daughter, Missy.”


“Six months.”

“Yeah, she’s young.” He did the math. By rights, he and Andi could have started a family of their own before either of her kids had been born. But she had left him, and they had lost their chance.

The sudden faraway look in her eyes prompted him into speech. “Jed tells me you’re staying at the hotel.”

“Temporarily,” she shot back.

He winced at the echo of his response when Jed had mentioned his coming home. Hopefully, he hadn’t sounded as defensive. Looked like Andi didn’t plan to stay around Cowboy Creek. Neither did he.

“I’m only here through the holidays,” she added.

“This is just a short visit for me, too.”

“And then you’ll go back to Los Angeles.”

She sounded as if what he did concerned her. He couldn’t trust that he’d read her right. But he would bet good money she hadn’t forgotten their summer.

He would never forget that day he’d looked across the barn to find the hottest girl he’d ever seen standing in the doorway, a blonde angel in a T-shirt, jeans and riding boots. He’d fallen head over heels and would have sworn she’d done the same.

Every day, once his work at the ranch was done, they had spent as much time together as they could. Until that one day she had just up and left without saying a word.

But here they were.

He had the feeling she was about to repeat history and walk off.

“I belong in LA,” he said, half to remind himself and half to keep her with him, as pathetic as both of those felt for him to admit. “I’m with the police department.”

“That’s a dangerous job. A tough one for you, and just as hard on your wife and kids.”

As she ought to have seen by her own husband’s death, in the right—or wrong—circumstances, any job had its risks. He shook his head. “I don’t have a wife. Or any family there. It’s just me.”

Alone at home. On his own on the job.

And now standing here beside the girl who’d started him down that road.

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to gently stroke the fine, lined skin near her eye.

“I’m not wearing well,” she said with a forced laugh.

“We’ve all gotten older.” But maybe not wiser. He cupped her cheek with his palm.

The warmth spreading through his hand more than made up for the risk he’d taken in touching her.


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Cowboy in Charge

Title  Cowboy in Charge, Book Four, The Hitching Post Hotel series

Author  Barbara White Daille

Genre  Contemporary Romance

Publisher  Harlequin Books


Book Blurb


Single mom Layne Slater thought she’d seen the last of Jason McAndry when he chose the rodeo over her and their unborn son. Now Jason’s back in Cowboy Creek and just as handsome as ever. But Layne can’t give in to those feelings again. She has to protect her children…and her heart.

Jason wants to try to make up for the pain he caused when he left. The least he can do is help Layne while he’s home. Before long, Jason realizes he’s finally ready to be the husband, father and man his family deserves. But can Jason prove to Layne that this time, their love is forever?



Layne awoke with a start to find she still held the cordless phone. Frantically, she looked around the living room. The baby lay asleep in the playpen. Scott sprawled on the floor with his toy cars spread out around him.

Across from her, Jason sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs. He was flipping through a newspaper but looked up as soon as she shifted upright. “You went out like a TV with its plug yanked from the socket,” he told her.

“Sorry.” Her voice cracked. She prayed the dry spot in her throat wasn’t the beginning of strep. The flu symptoms were enough to deal with. “How long was I asleep?”

“About an hour.”

While he sat there and did her job, watching over her kids.

Sighing, she turned her attention to her son. “Bedtime, Scott.”

He frowned. “No, Mommy. I play with cars. Look, my race cars.” He pointed to a sheet of cardboard propped up by some of his plastic blocks that seemed to be serving as a motorway for his entire auto collection. At that moment, she didn’t have the energy to argue, and an extra half hour or so of playtime wouldn’t hurt him.

What hurt her was having to see Scott and his daddy together.

“Very nice,” she managed. “Did you do that all by yourself?”

“No. Jason maked it.”

“Oh.” She looked at her ex. “Between getting supper and overseeing road construction, you seem to have maked yourself right at home.”

“You’ll thank me for that once I’ve gone and maked you a cup of tea for that throat.”

He laughed, and the sound did things to her insides that had nothing to do with the flu. She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting a sudden shiver she couldn’t blame on her illness, either. He frowned, and once again the resemblance to Scott made her breath catch. Over the years, she had tried not to notice the likenesses between her son and Jason. But seeing the two of them together only made the similarities between them undeniable.

Having the man right here in front of her only reinforced too many memories that had never completely faded.

“Have you got symptoms of anything else I should know about, besides flu?” he asked. “Judging by the way you crashed, I already suspect you’ve got sleeping sickness, too.”

“Not that. At least, not yet. The only other thing I’ve got is called middle-of-the-night nursing fatigue. And of course, just generally being a mom.”

She swallowed, wincing at the dryness of her throat.

He rose. “I’ll take care of that tea. How do you drink it?”

“Milk, no sugar,” she said. As unhappy as accepting his offer made her feel, at this moment, she needed the warmth and comfort of the drink more than she needed control of the situation.

She ought to push him, to find out why he was here, to ask why he suddenly had something to say to her after all these years. At the reminder of his flat statement, uneasiness ran through her. But she just couldn’t face interrogating him right now. Her head was swimming and her eyes felt watery, and the chills—a brand-new symptom—couldn’t be a good sign at all, no matter whether they stemmed from her illness or her ex.


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Title  The Cowboy’s Triple Surprise, Book Five, The Hitching Post Hotel series

Author  Barbara White Daille

Genre  Contemporary Romance

Publisher  Harlequin Books


Book Blurb


The last time rodeo cowboy Tyler Buckham was in Cowboy Creek, he spent a steamy night with local beauty Shay O’Neill. Back in town for a quick visit, he’s hoping they’ll have another go-around before he heads for his next rodeo. But seeing Shay pregnant—with triplets!—leaves Tyler feeling as if his best horse has kicked him in the gut.

Shay swore she wouldn’t fall for an unreliable cowboy, and Tyler’s playboy past makes him even less likely to settle down. The whole town conspires to push them together, and Tyler insists he wants to do his duty by Shay and the triplets, but Shay knows she can’t count on promises from a cowboy. Besides, Tyler never once mentioned the word love…



The Hitching Post was not the place for a reunion with Tyler. She’d needed to get away. Needed to get some space while she figured out how to do what she knew she had to do. Tell him the truth about her pregnancy.

She had to tell him about the children she would soon be having. Not one child. Not two. But three small, unexpected babies, already growing and thriving inside her. Already very much loved.

Not his babies.


“How did you get away from the hotel today without having to talk to Tyler?” Layne asked.

Shay explained about the missed phone call, which she had noticed on her cell phone at the best possible time. “Grandma just wanted to remind me not to hurry home, since she had plans to be out for supper at SugarPie’s.” The sandwich shop in town was one of Mo’s favorite hangouts, and Sugar Conway, the owner, was one of her best friends. “It gave me a reason to leave the banquet room. Once I was away from everyone,” she confessed, “I used the call as an excuse to run. Which is going to make going back tomorrow even more awkward.”

“Couldn’t you just call in sick?” Layne asked.

She almost choked on a laugh. “I wish. But I can’t let Jed and everyone else down. Besides, I need the money. Neither of my part-time jobs comes with any insurance.”

“I thought you told me you had money from your parents.”

“I do. From their life insurance policies. So at least I won’t have to worry about the hospital bills.”

She didn’t want to think about those policies and what they represented—the mom and dad she had lost years ago. Money couldn’t take their place in her life. But in reality, she had lost them both long before the accident that had taken them away. Her dad had chased the rodeo and her mom had chased her dad, and as a result she had never really had them in her life to begin with. All the more reason for staying away from Tyler.

How could she have let herself…

How could she have slept with a rodeo cowboy?

“Grandma practically raised me,” she said in a low voice. “I know how much she loves me, and I know she’ll help me out. But I’m trying to save up as much as I can for everything else the babies will need. I have to report to the Hitching Post tomorrow.”

She looked at Layne. “But I’m just dreading having to walk back into that hotel and see Tyler again. Or having to face any of the Garlands. Everyone else in Cowboy Creek must know the situation, too. What did I think?” she added, rolling her eyes. “That I could hide my head in the sand like an ostrich, and they wouldn’t figure out the timing as soon as they saw my stomach getting bigger?”

Layne smothered a laugh. “Sorry. That’s some visual. But if hiding the truth was your goal, I’m afraid you can forget it. Take it from a mom twice over. Nobody around here messes up the math on a pregnancy.” Sobering, she added, “I know you don’t want to tell Tyler the news, Shay. But you should think about it. Before someone else does.”


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Title  The Rancher’s Baby Proposal, Book Six, The Hitching Post Hotel series

Author  Barbara White Daille

Genre  Contemporary Romance

Publisher  Harlequin Books


Book Blurb


Ally Martinez has always been known as a fun and flirty kind of gal.  But deep down she’s never forgotten the cowboy who left town. When her crush Reagan Chase comes home after a five-year absence, Ally knows this is her big chance. The guy I’ve always wanted. Only Reagan has something different in mind…

Still reeling from his last relationship, Reagan needs a babysitter for his month-old son. With Ally’s help, he can get his family’s ranch ready for sale and get out of Cowboy Creek. The problem? Ally is one seriously cute distraction. But Reagan will do whatever it takes to keep his heart safe. Even if it means losing the only place—and the only woman—he can call home.



Reagan stood looking at her. She stared back, fighting to find something to say. In an instant, she had returned to being the gawky teenager dying for the older boy’s attention. She had never gotten it back then. Now that she had it, she didn’t know how to respond.

Pull yourself together, that’s how.

“Hi, Reagan,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the slight tremor of excitement in her voice. “I…I heard what you said to Jed. I’m sorry you’re thinking of selling your ranch.”

“Not thinking of it. Doing it. As soon as I can get the place cleared out enough to put it up for sale.”

His parents had lived their entire married lives in the house on that ranch. Reagan had lived there, too, until he had gone away to school. There must be so many memories wrapped up in the property…and so many personal items in the house. He would need a while to get it ready to sell. Meanwhile, would he spend that time here in Cowboy Creek? She crossed her fingers.

He gestured down the aisle. “Taking care of some shopping?”

“Oh. No. I’m not much of a do-it-yourselfer. I work here, have worked here since I graduated five years ago.” By that point, he had already left town. After getting his degree, rumor had it, he had accepted a fancy job in the big city of Houston, Texas. Smiling, she shrugged. “I’m still only a small-town girl who replaced school with a dead-end job paying barely above minimum wage. But who’s complaining?”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you get any time off?”

Her stomach fluttered as if a dozen butterflies had taken wing inside her. Sad. She had just acknowledged she was no longer a schoolgirl. She should also no longer be prey to her feelings for the boy she had once loved. And yet, she couldn’t tamp down her excitement. “Yes, I get evenings off. I only work seven to three. And once in a while I have a free day during the week, when I have to work Saturday. But that’s not too often.”

His mouth curved into a small, one-sided smile. “It’s almost three now. If you don’t have any plans for right after work, would you be able to meet me at SugarPie’s for a cold drink?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked. She hid her nerves behind a cough. “My throat’s very dry. I could definitely use a cold drink.” But none of Sugar’s delicious desserts.

It didn’t matter. With Reagan sitting across from her, she would get all she needed of something sweet.


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Fight or Die! Bestselling The IX Series by @WestonAndrew #FridayReads #SFF #books



Title: The IX Series

Author: Andrew P. Weston

Genre: Science Fiction

Publisher: Perseid Press


The IX Series – Blurb:

What could unite a Roman Legion and the Caledonian army they are fighting?


Or a US Cavalry Company with the Native American tribes arrayed against them?


How about a highly trained and motivated Special Forces unit and the terrorists they have been sent to wipe out at all costs?




What could such a diverse and mutually aggressive group possibly have in common?


Arden – and the Horde, that’s what!


Arden, home to a culture that has existed for thousands of years and which spans dozens of worlds. Regardless, their sophistication cannot prevent calamity at the hands of an unstoppable nemesis. Known only as the Horde, this enemy has proven relentless. They have not only stripped the outer colonies bare, but now threaten the existence of the entire Ardenese way of life.


Realizing there is nothing they can do to prevent the inevitable march toward extinction, the Ardenese governing body comes to a drastic decision. They gather together at their capital city, Rhomane, and place their remaining genetic heritage in a vast underground ark, in the care of an advanced AI construct called the Architect. Its mission? To use Rhomane’s dwindling reserves and safeguard their race by reaching out across time and space toward those who might be in a position to help reseed a devastated world at some time in the future.


That’s how soldiers from varying eras and vastly different backgrounds find themselves together. Snatched away from Earth at the moment of their passing they are transported to the far side of the galaxy. Thinking they have been granted a reprieve, their relief turns to horror when they discover they face a simple but stark ultimatum:


Put aside your former animosities and preconceptions in order to survive. Yes…


Fight or die!


How does this group of mismatched and antagonistic misfits fare?


Do they survive?


Find out for yourselves, in The IX Series.


Like them, you’ll discover death is only the beginning of an incredible adventure.




For as far as his eye could see, the endless tide of rabid hunger continued to advance. They came pouring into the valley from all sides, and the entire basin was soon filled with seething, shrieking monstrosities of every conceivable shape and form. Not one of them stood under two decans in height.


Nearing their goal, the leading entities of the Horde howled with malice and leaped forward. Dashing their bodies against the augmented might of the battlements seemed pointless to Sariff, for the attackers achieved nothing but to spend their vitality in a blaze of explosive fury. Yet the utter futility resulting from their lack of imagination did nothing to lessen their frenzy. In spite of their comrades’ fate, wave after wave of them continued throwing themselves to their deaths in wanton abandon. So great did the overwhelming press of shadow and flame become that the repeated detonations of each attacker’s self immolation grew into one prolonged cacophony of light and heat. Despite its density, the entire breadth of the wall thrummed under the weight of the assault.


And still they come.


Sariff blanched in the face of the onslaught, witnessed here on Arden for the first time.


As First Magister of Rhomane City, he seized the opportunity to study the enemy closely, for his would be the deciding vote in a decision that would seal the fate of their people.


He shook his head in disbelief, for he could see no respite from the relentless storm threatening to engulf them.


Thirty planets overrun in the space of just fifteen months. More than fifty billion souls lost. A history and a culture spanning more than twelve thousand years brought to this. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. And we risk it all on an idea . . .But what choice do we have?


Everywhere he looked, Sariff saw only the inevitability of death. Unless, by some miracle, Calen’s gamble paid off. That thought reminded him. I’d better get a move on.


So mesmerized was he by the display of savagery below, he almost collided with the duty commander, Sol Beren. Sariff hadn’t heard the soldier’s silent approach, but that was understandable. The veteran warrior was a skilled tracker, renowned for keeping his men on their toes by his sudden, wraithlike appearances at different stations along the wall. Everyone marveled how he could be seen taking the lead at one post only to be spotted minutes later on the other side of the city entirely, without having used the transport pads.


His face a mask of determination, Beren studied the conflict before him. A cold and empty gaze reflected the bitter frustrations of a man who had seen too many men die worthless deaths.

Sariff wished there was something he could say to ease the commander’s burden. Instead, all he could ask was: “Will it hold?”


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Author Biography:

Andrew P. Weston is an international bestselling author from the UK who now lives on the beautiful Greek island of Kos with his wife, Annette, and their growing family of rescue cats. An astronomy and law graduate, he has the privilege of being a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, the British Fantasy Society, the British Science Fiction Association and the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers.


When not writing, Andrew devotes some of his spare time to assisting NASA with one of their remote research projects, and writes educational articles for and Amazing Stories.


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Fiery #Romance Set in Sultry Spain: Andalusian Nights Series by @FieldingHannah #Books



Title: Indiscretion

Series Title: Andalusian Nights

Author: Hannah Fielding

Genre: Romance

Publisher: London Wall


Book Blurb:

Spring, 1950. Alexandra de Falla, a half-English, half-Spanish young writer abandons her privileged but suffocating life in London and travels to Spain to be reunited with her long-estranged family.

Instead of providing the sense of belonging she yearns for, the de Fallas are riven by seething emotions, and in the grip of the wild customs and traditions of Andalucía, all of which are alien to Alexandra.

Among the strange characters and sultry heat of this country, she meets the man who awakens emotions she hardly knew existed. But their path is strewn with obstacles: dangerous rivals, unpredictable events, and inevitable indiscretions. What does Alexandra’s destiny hold for her in this flamboyant land of drama and all-consuming passions, where blood is ritually poured on to the sands of sun-drenched bullfighting arenas, mysterious gypsies are embroiled in magic and revenge, and beautiful dark-eyed dancers hide their secrets behind elegant lacy fans?

Indiscretion is a story of love and identity, and the clash of ideals in the pursuit of happiness. But can love survive in a world where scandal and danger are never far away?



At first, Alexandra thought she was alone in the chapel, but she soon noticed a man, a few paces away, kneeling on a prayer stool at the foot of Saint Mary of Mercy’s statue. His broad shoulders were hunched beneath a shock of jet-black hair, his face hidden in slender, suntanned hands. It was dark, so why she should think that this was the stranger she had already encountered on the seafront and why her heart was beating so hard against her ribs, she couldn’t say, but she had no doubt at all that it was the same man.

Footsteps and whispering made her turn around. A man began to speak in a nasal singsong voice that echoed strangely from the walls of the little church, disturbing the peace and tranquillity: ‘This is the Church of Santa María.  As in most of our Spanish towns, Our Lady of Mercy is its all-powerful and well-loved patron saint, a friend who protects all, be they lords or paupers.’ It was a tour guide who had appeared in the doorway, ushering his party of tourists into the church.

‘Our land is rich in legends about the Virgin Mary. The most moving is the one about the young Jewish girl who fell in love with a Christian knight. Despairing of ever attracting his attention, the beautiful maiden turned to our Virgin here, on whom everyone called. Humbly, she gave all she possessed: a pin decorated with a tiny glass bead. The miracle happened: the knight passed by at that very moment, saw her, and his heart was forever linked to hers by the pin she had given as an offering.’

The group of sightseers passed Alexandra and disappeared through a low door at the back of the church leading to the crypt. Peace returned.

All the while, the man on the prayer stool had not moved. Alexandra went up to the statue of Our Lady of Mercy to light a candle but a priest had just gone by to clear up the melted wax from the previous batch of devotees’ offerings, and she neither had matches nor a lighter handy. A faint tch of annoyance escaped her lips.

‘Permita me señorita.’

Alexandra had scarcely time to register the quiet words spoken unexpectedly, close to her ear, before the stranger’s brown hand had flicked a gold lighter in front of her, bringing to life a tiny blue flame and at the same time brushing against her arm.

The spark that went through her at the Spaniard’s touch made Alexandra shudder and, emitting a slight gasp, she instinctively drew back in the first instance. But then, as she realized he was only trying to be helpful, she raised her face, smiling as readily and uninhibitedly as she always did.

‘Gracias, muchas gracias.’

There was utter silence in the church. The man did not smile but merely inclined his head, leaving Alexandra, as he had earlier on, with the impression that inbred courtesy had prompted him to lend his assistance, rather than the more usual reasons men found for helping her. Still, her green gaze met his. She was struck by the expression of sadness reflected in his arresting grey irises and the sternness of his hard, regular features.

An almost visible current leapt between them. For a split second, the determined line of his jaw stiffened, his well-defined lips parted and she thought he might speak. Her heart missed a beat…


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Portrait of Hannah Fielding and photos of where she writes.
Portrait of Hannah Fielding and photos of where she writes.


Author Biography:

Hannah Fielding is an incurable romantic. The seeds for her writing career were sown in early childhood, spent in Egypt, when she came to an agreement with her governess Zula: for each fairy story Zula told, Hannah would invent and relate one of her own. Years later – following a degree in French literature, several years of travelling in Europe, falling in love with an Englishman, the arrival of two beautiful children and a career in property development – Hannah decided after so many years of yearning to write that the time was now. Today, she lives the dream: writing full time at her homes in Kent, England, and the South of France, where she dreams up romances overlooking breath-taking views of the Mediterranean.

Hannah is a multi-award-winning novelist, and to date she has published five novels: Burning Embers, ‘romance like Hollywood used to make’, set in Kenya; The Echoes of Love, ‘an epic love story that is beautifully told’ set in Italy; and the Andalusian Nights Trilogy – Indiscretion, Masquerade and Legacy – her fieriest novels yet, set in sunny, sultry Spain.


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Title: Masquerade

Series Title: Andalusian Nights

Author: Hannah Fielding

Genre: Romance

Publisher: London Wall


Book Blurb:

Summer, 1976. Luz de Rueda returns to her beloved Spain and takes a job as the biographer of a famous artist. On her first day back in Cádiz, she encounters a bewitching, passionate young gypsy, Leandro, who immediately captures her heart, even though relationships with his kind are taboo. Haunted by this forbidden love, she meets her new employer, the sophisticated Andrés de Calderón. Reserved yet darkly compelling, he is totally different to Leandro but almost the gypsy’s double. Both men stir unfamiliar and exciting feelings in Luz, although mystery and danger surround them in ways she has still to discover.

Luz must decide what she truly desires as glistening Cádiz, with its enigmatic moon and whispering turquoise shores, seeps back into her blood. Why is she so drawn to the wild and magical sea gypsies? What is behind the old fortune-teller’s sinister warnings about ‘Gemini’? Through this maze of secrets and lies, will Luz finally find her happiness… or her ruin?

Masquerade is a story of forbidden love, truth and trust. Are appearances always deceptive?



Luz set eyes on him for the first time from her seat on Zeyna’s back as the fine white Arab mare stepped down the narrow path from the cliff that led to the beach. He was sitting on the edge of the track, leaning nonchalantly against a wild carob tree,watching her while chewing on a sprig of heather. As she drew nearer, she met his steady gaze, spirited and wild. At that moment she had no idea this man would have the power to change her world and create such havoc in her heart, that she would emerge from the experience a different person. Fate had not yet lit up the winding pathway of her life nor the echoes of history along it, but now, in front of this stranger, a disturbing awareness leapt into flame deep inside her and began to flicker intensely. Without thinking, she tugged on Zeyna’s reins to slow the mare down.

For a moment they stared at each other. He was clearly a gitano, one of those people that Luz’s family had always warned her to steer clear of. The frayed, cut-down denims sat low on his hips, revealing deeply tanned, muscular long legs, and his feet were bare as though he had just walked straight from the beach. Unruly chestnut hair, bleached golden in parts by the sun, tumbled to his shoulders; his smooth copper skin glowed more than that of any gypsy she had ever seen. As she allowed her gaze to flick back to his face, Luz caught the flash of amused, provocative arrogance in those bright, burning eyes, mixed with something deeper that she didn’t understand. She swallowed. The overwhelming masculinity of the gitano unsettled her. Luz lifted her chin resolutely, but felt the pull of his magnetism reaching out and gripping her, beguiling and dangerous, so that instinctively she nudged her mount and they broke into a smooth canter. The thumping of her heart sounded loud in her ears. She could sense his eyes on her, as a palpable touch, even as she rode away, trembling, and the feeling remained with her until she knew she was out of sight.


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Legacy cover


Title: Legacy

Series Title: Andalusian Nights

Author: Hannah Fielding

Genre: Romance

Publisher: London Wall


Book Blurb:

Spring, 2010. When Luna Ward, a science journalist from New York, travels halfway across the world to work undercover at an alternative health clinic in Cadiz, her ordered life is thrown into turmoil.

The doctor she is to investigate, the controversial Rodrigo Rueda de Calderon, is not what she expected. With his wild gypsy looks and devilish sense of humour, he is intent upon drawing her to him. But how can she surrender to a passion that threatens all reason; and how could he ever learn to trust her when he discovers her true identity? Then Luna finds that Ruy is carrying a corrosive secret of his own…

Luna’s native Spanish blood begins to fire in this land of exotic legends, flamboyant gypsies and seductive flamenco guitars, as dazzling Cadiz weaves its own magic on her heart. Can Luna and Ruy’s love survive their families’ legacy of feuding and tragedy, and rise like the phoenix from the ashes of the past?

Legacy is a story of truth, dreams and desire. But in a world of secrets you need to be careful what you wish for…



From her vantage point, Luna had a full view of her gypsy and she could survey him without it being too obvious. His hair was black, thick and shining, swept back from a broad forehead. The hair was rather long, she noted, but perhaps not that long for a gitano. A few tendrils fell across his brow from time to time as he moved his head to the music. His chiselled features were strong, with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose that seemed more aristocratic than gypsy, though this was belied by the crackling  aura of raw danger that seemed to emanate from him.

His mouth was wide and inviting, with smooth, slightly bowed lips that prompted illicit thoughts in Luna, thoughts that raced uninvited through her head and made her shiver despite the warmth of the night. Now she could see that the eyes that had met hers with such intensity were blue, a deep, unfathomable blue, like the skies and the seas of his country. Luna wondered at his age: mid-thirties, maybe a little younger.

As the dancer finished her set and retreated, the gypsy stood up, came forward and murmured an announcement of the next song, making a fresh thrill ripple up Luna’s spine at the husky, masculine sound of his voice. He started the rhythmic clapping of a toca de mano, and the waiter went round refilling glasses while the audience joined in, working up to a crescendo of hand-claps until the whole tavern shook with cries of ‘olé’ and ‘anda’.

The gypsy was much taller than Luna had guessed – over six feet, with a perfectly proportioned, lithe body. Wide shoulders and a broad chest, narrow hips and muscled thighs clad in a pair of jeans that hugged his form so well it left little to the imagination. She was aware of his intense magnetism, which was just as powerful as his steely physique. At this distance, she could detect the dark, curling hair lightly covering his chest just visible at the neck of the faded T-shirt he wore with surprising panache. The muscles of his arms flexed as this time he picked up a guitar and strummed a rapid cascade of chords. He gazed down into her eyes. The dazzling white smile he gave her almost stopped her heart and she lowered her head to hide her confusion.

As the rhythmic clapping subsided, he began to sing. His voice was rich and mellow, warm with vibrant tones and tingling with emotion, beguiling and beckoning like a filtre d’amour that scrambled her thoughts and stirred primitive and alarming desires within her. The music was plaintive and feverish, and as Luna watched his long fingers alternately strum and flick across the strings of his guitar, first lightly and then harder at lightning speed, she found herself wondering how those hands would feel on her skin. His songs were in Caló so she could not understand the words, but she could sense the intensity of feeling that went into the full, vigorous notes and although he sang to the audience, she knew from the sensuous intimacy in his eyes that he was singing for her alone.

Luna sat breathless, her gaze fixed on his expressive face. Luna sat breathless, her gaze fixed on his expressive face, stirred to the depths of her soul.



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One of the Best #Paranormal #Thriller Series: World on Fire by @LincolnJCole #POTLReads



Title Raven’s Peak (Book I, World on Fire)

Author Lincoln Cole

Genre Horror/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Thriller

Publisher Kindle Press

Book Blurb

A quiet little mountain town is hiding a big problem. When the townsfolk of Raven’s Peak start acting crazy, Abigail Dressler is called upon to discover the root of the evil affecting people. She uncovers a demonic threat unlike any she’s ever faced and finds herself in a fight just to stay alive.

Abigail rescues Haatim Arison from a terrifying fate and discovers that he has a family legacy in the supernatural that he knows nothing about. Now she’s forced to protect him, which is easy, but also to trust him if she wants to save the townsfolk of Raven’s Peak. Trust, however, is something hard to have for someone who grew up living on the knife’s edge of danger.

Can they discover the cause of the town’s insanity and put a stop to it before it is too late?




Raven’s Peak is a Finalist and You Can Help:

BookViral is pleased to announce the final six authors shortlisted for the 2016 BookViral Book Award. Shortlisting titles is always extremely hard and as in previous years, we now open the shortlisted titles to readers votes. Your votes won’t decide the winner but they will certainly influence and inform our thinking. You can click on the covers above to read our full spotlight review. To vote for your favourite title simply click on the voting button to be taken to our voting page. It’s a simple as that, but your vote will help  your favourite title receive the recognition it deserves. Voting closes at midday GMT on November 17th 2016.



“Reverend, you have a visitor.”

He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with the pain. When agony first turned to pleasure, and then to joy. Of course, it hadn’t always been like this. He remembered screaming all those years ago when first they put him in this cell; those memories were vague, though, like reflections in a dusty mirror.

“Open D4.”

A buzz as the door slid open, inconsequential. The aching need was what drove him in this moment, and nothing else mattered. It was a primal desire: a longing for the tingly rush of adrenaline each time the lash licked his flesh. The blood dripping down his parched skin fulfilled him like biting into a juicy strawberry on a warm summer’s day.

“Some woman. Says she needs to speak with you immediately. She says her name is Frieda.”

A pause, the lash hovering in the air like a poised snake. The Reverend remembered that name, found it dancing in the recesses of his mind. He tried to pull himself back from the ritual, back to reality, but it was an uphill slog through knee-deep mud to reclaim those memories.

It was always difficult to focus when he was in the midst of his cleansing. All he managed to cling to was the name. Frieda. It was the name of an angel, he knew. . . or perhaps a devil.

One and the same when all was said and done.

She belonged to a past life, only the whispers of which he could recall. The ritual reclaimed him, embraced him with its fiery need. His memories were nothing compared to the whip in his hand, its nine tails gracing his flesh.

The lash struck down on his left shoulder blade, scattering droplets of blood against the wall behind him. Those droplets would stain the granite for months, he knew, before finally fading away. He clenched his teeth in a feral grin as the whip landed with a sickening, wet slapping sound.

“Jesus,” a new voice whispered from the doorway. “Does he always do that?”

“Every morning.”

“You’ll cuff him?”

“Why? Are you scared?”

The Reverend raised the lash into the air, poised for another strike.

“Just…man, you said he was crazy…but this…”

The lash came down, lapping at his back and the tender muscles hidden there. He let out a groan of mixed agony and pleasure.

These men were meaningless, their voices only echoes amid the rest, an endless drone. He wanted them to leave him alone with his ritual. They weren’t worth his time.

“I think we can spare the handcuffs this time; the last guy who tried spent a month in the hospital.”

“Regulation says we have to.”

“Then you do it.”

The guards fell silent. The cat-o’-nine-tails, his friend, his love, became the only sound in the roughhewn cell, echoing off the granite walls. He took a rasping breath, blew it out, and cracked the lash again. More blood. More agony. More pleasure.

“I don’t think we need to cuff him,” the second guard decided.

“Good idea. Besides, the Reverend isn’t going to cause us any trouble. He only hurts himself. Right, Reverend?”

The air tasted of copper, sickly sweet. He wished he could see his back and the scars, but there were no mirrors in his cell. They removed the only one he had when he broke shards off to slice into his arms and legs. They were afraid he would kill himself.

How ironic was that?

“Right, Reverend?”

Mirrors were dangerous things, he remembered from that past life. They called the other side, the darker side. An imperfect reflection stared back, threatening to steal pieces of the soul away forever.


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Lincoln Cole


Author Biography

Lincoln Cole is a Columbus-based author who enjoys traveling and has visited many different parts of the world, including Australia and Cambodia, but always returns home to his pugamonster and wife. His love for writing was kindled at an early age through the works of Isaac Asimov and Stephen King and he enjoys telling stories to anyone who will listen.


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Title Raven’s Fall (Book II, World on Fire)

Genre Horror/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Thriller

Publisher LC Publishing

Book Blurb

Abigail was arrested by the Council, and now she’s awaiting trial for the decisions she made leading up to and culminating in the events of Raven’s Peak. She is restless while she waits for answers and knows that there is a real threat outside their walls plotting to bring them down.

Meanwhile, Haatim is getting a crash course in this world he knew nothing about and finding out that nothing is as it seems. He’s being taught how to survive, but will it be enough?

There are dark clouds on the horizon and it is coming whether they are prepared or not. Will they be able to weather this storm?



As soon as Abigail stepped outside the house, she knew something was wrong. She no longer stood alone, although she couldn’t see anyone else around her in the immediate proximity. How could she know? Nevertheless, she felt certain.


Alert and alarmed, she slipped her gun loose and crept toward her car, scanning the area around the house. Dark and cloudy, she couldn’t see anything.


When she drew closer, Abigail noticed that the vehicle rested lower than it should have. Someone had slashed the tires.


Not waiting for the trap to spring on her, she sprinted to the right, running toward a fence leading into an old horse paddock. A shout came from behind, followed by a gunshot. Abigail ducked and dashed to the fence, climbed over it, and dove into the tall grass below.


Years of horses walking over the muddy terrain had made the ground uneven. Luckily, the grass stood several feet tall and disguised her entire body, especially with such little light.


Abigail landed hard and rolled, ducking into the grass as more shots fired behind her. She kept moving, crawling low through the grass and, occasionally, glancing back the way she had come.


Near her car, three people ran toward her. Although Abigail couldn’t recognize their faces, she knew them from the way they moved: Colton Depardieu, Jack Wright, and Anong Sao.


It looked like they had come to finish what they had started back in Lausanne. Colton raised his pistol and fired into the grass. The shot fell behind her, but not as far away as she would like.


Abigail flinched, ducked again, and continued crawling. On this breezy night, the grass wafted in the wind and masked her progress. She moved fast, staying low, and went another fifteen or so meters. When she checked again, her pursuers had made it through the gate and into the field. They combed the area slowly, spread out to fan the entire field, and worked their way toward her.


Abigail held onto her revolver. At the least, she could drop one of them from her hiding spot. Anong stood closest, oblivious to her. They hadn’t prepared for her to retaliate, and she could put a bullet in Anong and still (probably) crawl away without the other two being able to find her immediately.


However, she didn’t. These were Hunters, her brothers and sisters, and killing them felt … wrong.


Though she might well regret it, Abigail slipped her revolver away instead and belly-crawled through the weeds and toward the fence. There, she found an opening that she could crawl under and slid outside the field. Abigail couldn’t see any other houses or vehicles in the area, but an old barn sat only fifty meters from her.


It looked like it had burnt up in a fire years ago, probably due to lightning or hooligans, and only half of it remained standing. Still, it gave better cover than nothing.


Abigail moved cautiously, crouching low, and made her way to the barn. Once there, she ducked inside, out of sight of the fields, and let out a quiet sigh.


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Title The Ninth Circle (Book 0, World on Fire, Side Jobs)

Genre Horror/Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Thriller

Publisher LC Publishing


Book Blurb

Arthur Vangeest has been hunting a cult known as the Ninth Circle for months and finally located their base of operations, but something goes terribly wrong before he can strike at them. Someone he trusts betrays him and his wife and young daughter are murdered. Now he isn’t sure if there is anything left to live for. But, when he exacts his revenge on the people the hurt him, he finds a new reason to stay alive.

This short story takes place several years before the events of Raven’s Peak and details how Arthur first discovered Abigail and how she gave him something new to live for.



Arthur Vangeest ran the wet sharpening stone down the edge of his sword, feeling it glide along the razor-sharp finish. His motions were practiced and precise, yet his mind was far away in his own thoughts.


The blade didn’t need the honing: he could have shaved the stubble off his face with it if he was willing to risk cutting his head off.


But he needed it: the action served to keep him from being idle. This was something he did before every battle, a superstitious ritual. He did it in an effort to maintain calmness and composure in the face of adversity while he risked his life for the Council. Right now, however, he was sharpening his sword to control the horrible despair and anger raging in his heart.


It wasn’t working.


“Are you all right, Arthur?” Frieda asked. Her voice was tender, as though she were afraid to speak up around him because he might break.


Maybe she wasn’t wrong. He glanced at her, meeting her eyes, but his hands kept gliding the stone down the blade. Frieda was wearing a black leather suit and had dyed her hair crimson in preparation for the upcoming mission.


She was beautiful and austere with a mole on her left cheek and eyes that pierced into whoever she looked at. She was, Arthur knew from personal experience, an incredibly dangerous woman.


“I’m fine.”


“Are you sure? You haven’t been—”


“I said I’m fine,” he reiterated.


She pursed her lips, thoughtful. “You don’t need to go in with us,” she said. “After everything that—”


“I’m going in,” he interrupted. “When we breach the building, I’ll push for the ritual chamber and search for survivors. I am not staying behind.”


Frieda hesitated but didn’t object. “Very well. From all reports, there should be four or five innocents trapped inside, so we need all the help we can get.”


“How many hostiles?”


“Somewhere in the range of fifty, but we can’t get an accurate count. At least nine are possessed. The rest are zealots.”


They were sitting on a park bench just outside Allison Falls in Virginia. It was beautiful in the midafternoon. They were waiting for three more Hunters to arrive from out of state before they attacked the Ninth Circle. Frieda had called in a team, Charles and Mildred Greathouse and Dexter Colson, to deal with this cell. They were flying in from around the world, the Greathouse family from Europe and Dexter from Brazil.


This was one of the biggest cells they’d ever located, and removing it from play would severely cripple and diminish the cult. This was a longtime project of Arthur’s, a venture he had dedicated years of his life to and risked everything to find.


He had, in fact, lost everything.


He underestimated the resourcefulness of the cult in finding out information about him. Someone within his own Order had betrayed him, and The Ninth Circle discovered where he lived. His wife and child were murdered in their sleep and left horribly butchered for him to find. It was the worst sight he’d ever experienced, and it was waiting for him when he’d come home.


That had been two weeks ago. He hadn’t discovered who betrayed him inside the Order yet, but he intended to pay them back in full. He knew that Frieda felt the same way, and she’d been cautious and withdrawn since the murder had taken place.


“How long?”


Frieda checked her watch. “We can start moving,” she replied. “The second plane touched down ten minutes ago. I can direct the other Hunters to meet us at the site. If we leave now, we will arrive about twenty minutes ahead of them.”


“All right,” he said, standing up and sliding his sword away. He dropped the sharpening stone onto the park bench and started walking toward her car. “Let’s go.”


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If You Love #Medical #Mystery, You’ll Love This Series by @LinWilder #amreading #POTLReads

Fragrance Shed by a Violet

Title: The Fragrance Shed By A Violet: Murder in the Medical Center 2nd edition

Author: Lin Wilder

Genre: Medical Mystery

Publisher: Wyatt Mackenzie Imprint

Book Blurb:

Why did a Houston district attorney decide to involve the state in an area of the law that it has historically treated as sacrosanct: that of medical decision-making? Why did the DA decide to charge McCall with murder rather than criminal negligence in a civil court? Author Lin Weeks Wilder continues Dr. Lindsey McCall’s story in the new book, “The Fragrance Shed By A Violet Cover: Murder in The Medical Center”.

In a city where the Texas Medical Center reigns as one of the top employers in Houston, housing over three thousand medical researchers making the news with new pharmaceutical discoveries almost daily, why did twelve Houstonians unanimously decide to convict Dr. McCall for intentional murder following her trial?”

These are the questions that lead investigative reporter Kate Townsend to write a Pulitzer Prize winning series called Murder in the Texas Medical Center. Haunted by the knowledge that her new-found fame has been purchased at too high a price; Kate is sure that McCall is not guilty.

Texas Governor Greg Bell hires former homicide detective and criminal defense attorney Rich Jansen to fix the escalating problems at the Huntsville Prisons recently inflamed by a lawsuit against infamous inmate Dr. Lindsey McCall. Dr. McCall is an internationally acclaimed cardiologist, researcher, and a 2002 nominee for the Nobel Prize for Medicine. When Jansen’s skills quickly result in the resignation of an incompetent prison medical director, he realizes that this strange saga is just beginning.

Mark Twain wrote that forgiveness was the fragrance shed by a violet upon the heel of the boot that has crushed it. This medical mystery weaves together the lives of two sisters, Lindsey, and Paula, with those of strangers as each cope with loss, betrayal, jealousy, and the exquisitely painful journey to forgiveness.



She lay listening to the unfamiliar night sounds: the pacing of other sleepless prisoners, the occasional echo of a heavy-footed guard making his rounds. Mostly though, she waited for the terror of the dream to subside, for the iron bands around her heart to loosen, and for the awful pressure on her chest to lighten so that she could breathe. And she waited for her heart to climb back down into her chest and out of her throat.

The dream was a familiar one. It had begun four years before following the sudden death of a fifty-two-year-old man whose heart she had catheterized. Dr. Lindsey McCall had surgical hands—a reference to the skill and dexterity that she brought to the Cardiac Catheterization Laboratory at the University of Houston General Hospital. A colleague had made the comment during rounds one day during her cardiology fellowship at Houston General, and it had stuck.

There had been no reason for his death. Nate Morrison was a healthy senior executive with Southwest Oil, one of the largest oil conglomerates in the world. During his annual physical, Morrison had been referred to Houston General for a work up based on nonspecific changes in his cardiac diagnostic tests.

Upon reviewing his tests, Lindsey had suspected that the man’s coronaries might be clean—free of coronary artery disease. She was well aware of the numbers. Of the sixty thousand cardiac catheterizations performed each year in the United States, over 30 percent revealed clean coronaries: absence of plaque in the vessels supplying the heart with oxygenated blood. And the procedure was not benign. Complications of cardiac catheterization were not uncommon and ranged from mild hematoma to death. In twelve years, Lindsey had done over five hundred cardiac catheterizations and over three hundred angioplasties. She had never lost a patient.

But close to 75 percent of the revenue of her department was due to referrals from doctors practicing in Texas and the Houston metropolitan area; the physicians at Southwest Oil referred hundreds of patients to Houston General per year, usually for an angioplasty or cardiac cath. Furthermore, McCall was well acquainted with the financial realities of her profession—turning down lucrative procedures like cardiac catheterizations was not smart.

For some reason she could no longer recall, she, rather than one of the cath lab nurses, had gone to see this man the night before the procedure. While she had been reviewing the potential complications with her patient and obtaining his informed consent, Morrison had asked with a wink, “Just how many patients have you lost in your twelve-year career, Dr. McCall?”

His quick-grinned response to her answer had been, “Well then, let’s you and I make sure that I’m not the first, deal?”

Lindsey could picture that conversation as if it had happened a moment ago. Fourteen hours later, he was dead.

As she had done hundreds of times before upon awakening from the dream, Lindsey lay there second-guessing herself— asking all the questions that had been asked by his family, by the morbidity and mortality committee at the hospital, and by her chairman of medicine. The final diagnosis had been sudden death due to a massive left ventricular infarct most likely from coronary spasm. Neither his family nor the hospital held her responsible. There had never been even the suggestion of negligence on her part.

Her technique had been flawless. She had been calm and confident throughout the two-hour procedure, explaining what she was doing to her patient and laughing at his quick-witted responses. Lindsey had completed the injection of dye into the man’s left anterior coronary artery, and after satisfying herself that it, too, was free of plaque and had almost completely extracted the catheter from his coronary in preparation to end the procedure was when she heard the startled cry of her technician.

“Lindsey, he’s fibrillating, he’s fibrillating!”

For just a second, her gaze met that of her lead tech, Ben, who responded to her unspoken question. “He’s been in sinus rhythm for the whole exam—there was never any arrhythmia, not even a PVC!”

Ben was referring to premature ventricular contractions that are frequently harbingers of serious cardiac arrhythmias. Lindsey trusted this guy implicitly; they had worked together for over ten years. If Ben said there had been no warning of this potentially fatal arrhythmia, she believed him. So she and her staff went to work, certain that in just a few minutes, they would get control and be back to the routine work of winding down the procedure.

But they couldn’t.

They had worked for over three hours, along with six members of the hospital’s on-call code team who had responded to the emergency in the Cath lab. They were never able to restore a normal cardiac rhythm, despite massive amounts of antiarrhythmic and other emergency drugs along with numerous attempts at electrical defibrillation.

That was the last time she had accepted a patient for catheterization.

The chairman of Medicine at Houston General had spent hours with Lindsey over that first year following the death of this patient trying, in futile attempts, to help her forgive herself. He had known her since she had been accepted into the cardiology fellowship almost fifteen years earlier and had followed the young woman’s career at first with interest and later with excitement.

Dr. Simon Bayer was known to many as the cardiologists’ cardiologist. He too had been excellent in diagnostics, research, and in education. Author of several textbooks and principal investigator of countless experimental drug protocols, Dr. Bayer was internationally admired and respected. But in close to forty years as chairman of Internal Medicine at Houston General, Dr. Bayer had never before seen the talent exhibited by this young physician.

Early in her fellowship, Lindsey had talked with Dr. Bayer about her preliminary doctoral work with alteration of the molecule for digitalis. At that time, he had listened politely. Lindsey remembered sensing that her chairman believed she was chasing windmills—the drug had been around forever after all.

For centuries, physicians have treated heart failure with digitalis. Its effect on strengthening a failing left ventricle—the main pump of the four-chambered heart—remains unparalleled. But the drug has serious systemic side effects ranging from mild to potentially fatal depending on dosage and frequency. Lindsey had become interested in the drug in high school when her mother had been diagnosed with idiopathic cardiomyopathy— heart failure of unknown origin—at the age of forty-three.

Cardiomyopathies are a strange and almost-universally-fatal type of heart failure. Thought to be caused by a virus, the actual mechanism of disease is poorly understood. But the course of the disease is all too well known: increasing heart failure and incapacitation over time and death if not treated with heart transplantation. Despite living fifty miles from the premiere transplant center if the world, the Texas Medical Center in Houston, Lindsey’s mother would not consider transplantation. That she lived for close to thirty years without surgical intervention was considered a minor miracle by her physicians. Then, as now, digitalis was the drug of choice for heart failure, and so the balancing act of dosaging began—sufficient medication to keep the heart out of failure but not so much as to cause severe nausea and vomiting and toxicity to the heart.

Before her illness, Lindsey’s mom had been physically active with many outside interests and lots of friends. Although she had never worked outside her home, she had been active in volunteer and church work. The disease completely changed her personality; Ann became incapable of focusing on much other than her symptoms and the acute anxiety brought about by the facts of her disease and incapacitation.

Only thirteen at the time, Lindsey handled the virtual loss of her mother through intense study: of the heart, of her mother’s disease, and of the drugs that manage heart failure, specifically digitalis. This intellectual response to loss, crisis, and fear worked exceedingly well for the young girl and would become her major response to trauma throughout her life.

At the age of seven, Lindsey had decided that she would be a cardiologist and a research scientist; the acute onset of Ann McCall’s illness served to augment and crystallize Lindsey’s ambition. Throughout her junior and senior high school years, the young girl persuaded her chemistry and biology teachers to support her determination to alter the digitalis molecule in ways that would optimize its inotropic or strengthening effects on the heart, while mitigating its toxic effects.

Recognizing and respecting his daughter’s ambition, Tom McCall, Lindsey’s father, a NASA test pilot, made certain that Lindsey received the best of what the Clear Lake Texas schools offered in their advanced science courses. Therefore, Lindsey received quality tutors throughout the six years of junior and senior high school. Lindsey McCall’s cardiac models were entered at each science fair and, without fail, received first prize.


Now fully awake, Lindsey considered the irony of her current circumstances. She almost laughed out loud in the dark at herself—at least the terror of this dream was familiar and lay buried in her past; her real nightmare was no dream, no mere memory. And she could feel the fear uncoil, stretch, and begin to take her over once again. Closing her eyes, she began to pray:

Let nothing dismay thee.

All things pass.

God never changes.

Patience acquires all that is strived for.

She who has God finds that she lacks nothing.

God alone suffices.

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Lin Wilder

Author Biography:

Lin Weeks Wilder has published dozens of articles, wrote a textbook, and has written four self-help books. Lin has written three medical thrillers situated in Houston, Texas where Lin worked for over 23 years—The Fragrance Shed by a Violet, the sequel Do You Solemnly Swear? and the third in her series, A Price for Genius. The story of the return to faith, Finding the Narrow Road was an unplanned surprise.

In her free time, Lin Wilder enjoys hiking, listening to beautiful music, gardening and last but certainly not least, reading. Lin is married to a former Marine and psychologist with 25 years of experience counseling ex- combat veterans. They reside in Nevada with their two dogs.

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solemnly cover

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

Author: Lin Wilder

Genre: Legal Thriller

Publisher: Wyatt Mackenzie Imprint

Book Blurb:

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

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

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

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

His next several days and weeks are a blur as he realizes belatedly that he has no chance against his diminutive accuser, his implicit trust in the fairness of the justice system shattered, McAllister lands in the Huntsville prison, sentenced to 3 counts of 20 to life sentences.

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

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


August 9, 2013 Huntsville Prison, Huntsville Texas

The more laws, the less justice.



The grin on Dr. Lindsey McCall’s face was so wide that it nearly split her face in two as she gazed around the Huntsville Prison Emergency Treatment Center with an unusual sense of pride. She who had taken no satisfaction from her creation of a drug which had revolutionized the treatment of heart failure felt an irrepressible joy every time she glanced through the huge plate glass windows of her office at the gleaming technology arrayed in the diagnostic room on her left and the state of the art eight bed patient care area which dominated the Center. The place had been completely transformed from the infirmary she had worked in as an inmate. The peeling and dingy walls, the 1950 style open patient care area and the warren of small and fairly useless offices had been gutted and in their stead was a level one trauma and emergency treatment center rivaled only by those of the Texas Medical Center, sixty miles south of the prison.

Seventy miles north of Houston on Interstate 45 is Huntsville, Texas. Also called Prison City, Huntsville is home to seven prisons boasting about seventy five thousand prisoners. Long known for its tough stance on crime, the state of Texas proudly boasts of a criminal justice system second to none. With a total of 122 prisons and accommodations for close to 30,000 prisoners, Texas ranks first in the United States and second only to Russia in its capacity for prisoners.

Lindsey had only one demand upon assuming the position of Medical Director at the Huntsville Prison System: A total renovation of the infirmary serving the over ten thousand prisoners in the seven facilities comprising the system. Governor Greg Bell had laughed as he signed the executive order granting Dr. Lindsey McCall permission to renovate the infirmary.

“I’d have to be a damn fool to refuse you, Dr. McCall”, dark brown eyes dancing and eyebrow raised,” I wonder how many other Governors ever had the chance to grant a five million dollar renovation for which the state would pay nothing.”

Winking at the cameras covering the ceremony, Bell answered his question by circling his thumb and forefinger, ”Nada, not a one, I can guarantee you that.”

Because of the family inheritance she had received upon the deaths of her mother and sister, Lindsey McCall had been a wealthy woman but with the proceeds rolling in from the sale of Digipro, Lindsey had become a millionaire many times over and could easily afford the now five million dollar renovation from the trust fund she had established with the help of Hank Reardon, CEO of Andrews, Sacks and Levine, the pharmaceutical company which had funded her research and now manufactured the drug.

Lindsey had spared no expense during the renovation. She had prevailed on the wisdom of former colleagues, trauma surgeons at the Houston Medical Center where she had been one of the leading Cardiologists in the country and had followed their advice, expensive though it had been; she regretted not one cent.

Taking a huge, shaky breath which caught in her throat and feeling the tell- tale sting in her eyes, Lindsey whispered, “Thank You, thank You thank You” in awe, wonder and gratitude at the happiness she had never before known was possible and wondered if her Dad could look down from the heavens he had once soared in to see his smiling daughter and know the totality of her joy. She hoped so.

Shaking her head in exasperation at this unfamiliar incarnation of herself, Lindsey laughed softly, checked her watch and muttered, “Give it up, McCall, you’ve run out of time.” Realizing that the stacks of forms, paperwork and charts awaiting her review would require a couple of hours to complete, Lindsey calculated that she’d have just enough time to go home, take Max for a quick run and then shower and change. Today was her first wedding anniversary and her husband and boss, Rich Jansen, Chief Warden at the Huntsville Prison, had made reservations at one of the finer restaurants in Houston, Perry’s, to celebrate; but as Lindsey was packing her brief case to leave, she heard Monica, the chief emergency center nurse and now one of her best friends, yelling for her.

Lindsey raced down the hall separating the administrative offices from the main clinic in time to see Monica and Luke Preston, her favorite guard at the prison transferring a severely injured man to one of the beds in the monitored section of the clinic. Monica did not stop her systematic

emergency procedures to look at Lindsey but the nurse was muttering under her breath with a most unpleasant scowl on her face. If this were any of the other nurses, Lindsey might have figured that she was simply angry at the late interruption of a quiet Friday afternoon but Lindsey knew better. Something was bugging Monica big time but they had no time to talk, this guy was unconscious, most likely in shock either from the extensive trauma or internal bleeding and looked as if he was barely moving his chest to breathe.

While Monica applied electrodes so that they could monitor his cardiac rhythm, oxygen saturation, blood pressure and respiratory rate, Lindsey tried to find a vein to start an intravenous drip. Failing, she grabbed the cut-down set the ever efficient Monica had placed on a tray beside Lindsey, tore it open and quickly made a small incision on his forearm; within seconds, she had threaded a large bore catheter into his brachial vein and started a drip of dextrose and saline. The man’s face was unrecognizable; he had been beaten so badly that all Lindsey could make out were the vague outlines of mouth, nose and eyes. McCall’s gaze rapidly traversed the man as her hands gently palpated his abdomen and chest, looking for abdominal injuries, bleeding or broken ribs. He was in shock-the reason she had not been able to start an intravenous line; the question was why. Grabbing the portable X-Ray machine out of the corner of the room, Lindsey waited until the guard and Monica had cleared the room, threw on the lead apron that hung there and took several flat plate films of his chest and abdomen.

While Monica was calling in Jake, a paramedic always looking for overtime; Lindsey walked rapidly into the X-Ray room and clipped the films to the fluorescent wall readers.

“Jake can be here in thirty minutes, Lindsey,” Monica said, glancing at her watch, “that should give you enough time to get home, change and still meet Rich on time.”

“Ok Monica; thanks, this guy will need someone to watch over him pretty carefully but I don’t see anything that looks worrisome on these films….” McCall stood and scanned the three films for the third time to make certain that she’d not missed anything on the X-Rays. She scanned the new patient’s monitor readings from through the window between his cubicle and the diagnostic room.

“His vital signs have stabilized and his oxygenation saturation is up,” frowning, McCall looked over at the nurse, “Funny, I was pretty sure that he had a flail chest but clearly I was wrong, he’s pinked up and looks pretty good aside from a completely smashed face.”

Sighing impatiently, Monica mumbled something that sounded like, “Like this guy’s worth all this”? And then more clearly, “Lindsey, come on, you need to go or you’ll be super late.”

Turning to look at the normally pleasant dark features now rearranged in a fierce scowl, Lindsey asked, “Monica, what on earth has got into you? I’ve never seen you act this way toward one of our patients.”

She was rewarded with a disdainful glare, “Are you telling me, Dr. Lindsey McCall, that you don’t know who this guy is?”

Staring at her boss and shaking her head the rigid features began to relax and soften into the attractive face of the Monica Bradbury that Lindsey had come to know and love when she had been an inmate here at Huntsville only two years before.

Incredulous, Monica stared at Lindsey’s bemused expression as she breathed, “Girl, you really need to get your head out of your books, this guy is Gabriel McAllister,” and watched Lindsey expectantly.

McCall shrugged as she turned back to watch McAllister’s monitor though the glass window of the X-Ray room and felt Monica’s hand grasp her shoulder as she hissed, “He’s the guy who raped that five year old little girl, it’s been all over the news all summer, Lindsey…….If there is one criminal that I detest, it’s a pedophile,” Monica added shaking her head in disgust.

Still watching her new patient, Lindsey recalled Rich calling out to her on an evening late last week to come and watch the local television news. Her husband knew that she was cramming for her emergency medicine boards which she was scheduled to take in just over a month; rarely did he interrupt her so she knew it wasn’t a trivial issue. Lindsey had sighed deeply as she closed a massive textbook on emergency medicine and joined Rich in their bedroom to watch the late “breaking news” report.

Kate Townsend was being interviewed by the CBS news about her headline story in the Houston Tribune earlier that day. Ever on the prowl for a good story, the Pulitzer winning reporter was commenting on a Houston juror who had recently pled guilty of juror tampering. According to Kate, the juror had sat on the jury selected for Gabriel Macalister’s jury and been concerned about the lack of evidence proving that Macalister had raped and sodomized the child. Because two of the state’s medical witnesses had stated the presence of an intact hymen in the vagina of the little girl, this juror had researched the possibility of vaginal intercourse occurring in a child with an intact hymen on her computer at home after the first day of the trial. Once she learned that an intact hymen did not preclude sexual activity, she reluctantly found the defendant guilty of three counts of rape along with the eleven other jurors.

Subsequent to the juror learning from a friend that she was expected to make her decision about the guilt or innocence of the defendant based solely on what she heard in the courtroom, the woman wrote a letter disclosing what she had done and why to the Judge who had heard the case. The unnamed juror wrote that she would have found the defendant not guilty had she made her decision based solely on the case as presented by the state in the courtroom; asserting that there was only scant physical evidence of abuse found in the child and that her decision to find Macalister guilty was based solely on the accusations of the child.

The interview ended with the famous reporter commenting on what she called, “a worrisome trend” in divorce and break-ups between couples involving a small child. In more than 50% of custody dispute cases, there were allegations of sexual abuse by the father or live-in boyfriend. Somberly, Kate regarded her Houston audience as she declared, “In upwards of 35% of these cases, the accusations were later proved to be false.”

Both Kate and Rich had stared at one another as they listened, wide-eyed, to their good friend Kate Townsend ignite yet another incendiary explosive device in the halls of Huntsville Prison.

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Title: A Price for Genius

Author: Lin Wilder

Genre: Medical Mystery

Publisher: Wyatt Mackenzie Imprint

Book Blurb:

Dr. Lindsey McCall’s worst fears are realized. Not only have both drugs been stolen but two women have been kidnapped- one maybe dead. Lindsey had known Liisa Reardon’s new drug was alchemy, only this time, the end product actually more precious than gold.

The desperate call from Hank Reardon in Switzerland came late at night causing too many questions. And no answers. Could Lindsey and Rich Jansen uncover who was behind the crimes? It was an inside job-could they figure out who had sold out the Reardons? All in time to save Reardon’s daughter and her chief tech Ariana? Were they risking their lives as well?

The evil words smolder in her mind, the contents of the letter delivered to Hank Reardon

Hello Mr. Reardon,

By the time you get this letter, it will be too late. We’ll already have her.

Here are the steps you must not take:

  • Do not call the cops.
  • Do not contact the FBI
  • Tell no one.
  • We’ll know if you or the FBI. We’ll and we’ll kill her instantly.

You must know Sir, there is a price for genius. We trust you will pay it if you want to see your daughter alive.



 Lausanne, Switzerland

Suddenly regaining consciousness, Rich Jansen attempted to stand, then instantly regretted the movement. The pain began at the base of his head and exploded in successive and increasingly intense waves of agony, forcing him to close his eyes, hang his head and wait motionless. Remaining on his hands and knees for a minute then two for the pain to subside, for the nausea to fade, Jansen risked opening his eyes. Squinting at the bright light, he very slowly and carefully moved his head from right to left.

So far so good. Linoleum floor, shiny black and white. That noise what is that sound? Aw no, don’t tell me, please God…

The memories flooded back as Rich raised himself up enough to crouch, knowing better than to immediately stand up. Gingerly reaching behind his head with his right hand, he winced when his fingers probed a large wet and sore swelling at the back of his head. Slowly he stood, swaying a bit while the vast room spun about him.

Whatever they hit me with carried a hell of a wallop.

The phone call from Reardon had happened last night? Or was it yesterday? The minute he hung up the phone, Rich had called the airport to secure a seat on the next flight to Zurich. Sixteen hours later, he had arrived at the animal research labs in the corporate offices of Andrews, Sacks, and Levine, one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, located in Lausanne Switzerland.

The elfin Ariana had been showing him where the test mice were kept when everything went black. Looking around for her Jansen saw only a few spots of blood and some scuff marks. He saw mice scrabbling all over the lab; for whatever reasons, whoever broke in decided to free hundreds of mice and Ariana was nowhere to be seen.

The letter…where is the letter?

Jansen reached into the pockets of his sports jacket, the copy of the one he’d had on since leaving San Luis Obispo, California and breathed a sigh of relief when his right hand pulled out the single page. A page now bloodied from his head wound.

Hello Mr. Reardon,

By the time you get this letter, it will be too late. We’ll already have her.

Here are the steps you must not take:

  • Do not call the cops.
  • Do not contact the FBI
  • Tell no one.

We’ll know if you contact the police or the FBI. We’ll know and we’ll kill her instantly. But we are civilized businesspeople; this is all about business after all. Do nothing at all until you hear from us. And you will hear from us, Mr. Reardon.

You must know Sir, there is a price for genius. We trust you will pay it if you want to see your daughter alive.

In the other pocket of his jacket, Jansen found his cell. He hit her number.

Please pick up, please pick up.

Heart hammering as he counted the rings, Jansen’s knees nearly buckled with relief when his wife answered her phone. “Lindsey, where are you?”

“Neither. I’m at the track, I was just starting a run with Max.” Lindsey stopped still. She could hear the tension in her husband’s voice.

“Honey, I need to you to get here as soon as you can find someone to take care of Max and get a flight out to Zurich. We’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“What’s happened Rich, what is going on?”

“ Someone clubbed me while Ari was showing me around the lab. When I woke up, Ariana was missing and hundreds of mice were running around loose. Ari and I must have surprised whoever has decided to steal Liisa’s research. Hank is…well, you can imagine how he is.” Grabbing a nearby chair to steady himself, “There’s a letter from Liisa’s kidnappers. We need you to figure out how we meet their demands, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are you okay?” Lindsey was on her phone searching for flights out of San Francisco to Zurich  as she waited for his answer.

Rich swayed from another wave of dizziness and nausea, gulped and replied, “Other than a mega lump on the back of my skull, yeah, I’m fine.. Whoever it was just wanted me out of commission for a few minutes. Ari and I must have interrupted whoever it was.”

Rich surveyed the disarray in the lab. Cages were overturned and he could hear the squeals of mice and the scrabbling of their feet on the tiled floor. That had been the noise he had heard when he was coming to. He was way too old for this crap and knew just who he’d call once he ended the call with his wife.

“I can get there faster from San Francisco. I’m calling Kate to make sure it would be okay to bring Max to their house. I’ll aim to be in Zurich by tomorrow at this time, will call you when I know the time I’ll get in. Be careful Rich, please.” But there was only dead air.

“Hey, McAllister, Rich Jansen here. Are you and Baron still roaming free around the country?

“Yo, Rich!” Rich could hear the smile in Gabe’s voice.

“Are you still looking to work for Zach and me?”

“You mean like as a private investigator?”

“Probably more than just investigation Gabe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gabe, this could get dicey. Two women have been kidnapped, Reardon has a note threatening that they’ll kill his head of research at his pharmaceutical company Andrews, Sacks, and Levine if he brings in the police or the feds. She also happens to be his daughter. And I’ve been attacked within my first hour here.” Scanning the space once again, hoping that Ariana would materialize, Jansen added, “And it looks as if they grabbed the head of the animal research labs too. She was showing me around when we were suddenly assaulted. She is nowhere to be found.

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If You Love #Thrillers, Check out this series by @HowellWave #books #POTLReads #RRBC

my-grl-front-cover with click


Title My GRL

Author John W. Howell

Genre Thriller

Publisher Martin Sisters Publishing


Book Blurb

John J. Cannon successful San Francisco lawyer takes a well-deserved leave of absence from the firm and buys a boat he names My GRL. He is unaware that his newly purchased boat had already been targeted by a terrorist group. John’s first inkling of a problem is when he wakes up in the hospital where he learns he was found unconscious next to the dead body of the young woman who sold him the boat in the first place. John now stands between the terrorists and the success of their mission.



Gerry and I finish our beers at the Sandbar and make a move to cross the crowds toward the front door. Before the karaoke noise starts, we agree to go to another place for some pizza. She directs something to me which I can’t understand, so I hold my hand to my ear and try hard to hear her. She looks a little upset. I signal we should wait until we get outside to talk.


She nods and I take the lead, reach back, grab her hand, and act like a bulldozer while I separate the crowd as we pass through. It becomes harder since everyone has begun to pay attention to the drunken girl singing what sounds a little like a slurred Avril Lavigne song to the karaoke machine on the stage up front.


We make it to the door and go out into the humid night. I drop Gerry’s hand and notice there are two guys walking toward us. I tell her to stay close and figure the guys will eventually make way and go into the bar. I am about to ask her what she was trying to get me to understand in the bar when I feel a rush of air behind me and hear what sounds like someone thumping a watermelon. That was the last thing on my mind when the lights of the world go out.


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Author Biography

John’s main interests are reading and writing. He turned to writing as a full-time occupation after an extensive career in business. John writes thriller fiction novels. His first book, My GRL published by Martin Sisters Publishing and is the first of many exciting adventures of the book’s central character John J. Cannon. The second, His Revenge published by Keewaydin Lane Books is now available in Paperback and Kindle formats. The third book in the John Cannon trilogy, Our Justice launched in September 2016 and is also published by Keewaydin Lane Books.

John lives on Mustang Island in the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of south Texas with his wife and their spoiled rescue pets.


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His Revenge front final


Title His Revenge

Author John W. Howell

Genre Thriller

Publisher Keewaydin Lane Books


Book Blurb

America loves John Cannon, its newest hero, and the President wants to present him with the highest civilian medal for bravery for saving the Annapolis midshipman from a terrorist plot to destroy them. While in Washington for the award ceremony, John unwillingly becomes an accomplice in another plan by the same group to attack the credibility of the US President and the stability of the worldwide oil market. There is no way out as John either becomes a traitor to America or causes thousands of innocent people to die if he refuses.



The water rushes over my head. I’m sinking and don’t know why. With my breath held, I have trouble stopping the air from escaping since the pressure drives the air up and out. I try to keep my mouth closed, but the water pressure pushes the air out more and more. Will I pass out? In the distance, the light is dim. To rise to the surface in time might not be possible─I need to breathe right now. Toward ending the pain in my chest, my rambling mind rationalizes taking a deep breath—even knowing it will end my life. In conflict with the irrational thought of ending it, my body won’t let me suck in the water, as it fights to retain the little bit of oxygen left to fuel my brain.


The despair is nearly overwhelming, and my mind considers other ways to battle the feeling. What more could I have done with my life? The pressure becomes more intense, and I’m about to lose it all, and I decide I’ve lived the way I wanted and have no regrets. I close my eyes and hear only the roar of the sea. I’m so tired. Exhausted. Sleep will fix everything, and I want to give in.


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Title Our Justice

Author John W. Howell

Genre Thriller

Publisher Keewaydin Lane Books


Book Blurb

The terrorist leader and financier Matt Jacobs has figured out a plan to eliminate the President. He is relying on John Cannon’s stature as a hero to help him carry it off. John finds himself walking the fine line of pretending to help Matt while trying to figure out a countermeasure to the plan.

The third book in the John J. Cannon Trilogy brings together two strong wills for a showdown. The question to be answered is who will feel the satisfaction that the achievement of justice delivers? John, Matt or neither?



I open my back door, and then pick up my watch from the table. A nice shower and a nap before Ned picks me up sounds in order. Then, seeing (or maybe just sensing) movement in the front of the house, I say, “Who’s there?” Right after I said it, I wish I hadn’t. For definite, someone is in my house, and they may have a gun. How many movies are there where the dope walking into a trap yells “who’s there?” and the audience groans at the stupidity?


I crouch down and look around for something to use as protection. The floor creaks, and whoever is in the house is moving toward the rear where I’m hidden. With a need to move quickly, I shoot to my feet and grab the back door knob, throwing the door open, and then run outside. I’m not sure where I’m going, but it’s a damn sight better to be away from whoever is trespassing in my home. After I run over the boardwalk, I turn onto the beach and move into a jog, hoping I’ll run into someone who will help me. About a hundred yards further on, I hear a snap like a twig on my right side toward the Gulf. Before I can look over, I hear the shot of a gun behind me. The snap was the bullet missing me by a fraction. Finally, the shot sound catches up to the speed of flight of the bullet. I turn, and a guy stands on the beach with his arms extended, holding a gun and aiming for another shot. I break to the left and pick up speed until I’m near the dunes. It will be rough going once I get over the dune, but that’s a better bet than staying to stop a bullet. I look as I break and see the guy has stopped aiming and is now running toward me. Dressed in black, he looks way out of place in the bright sunshine.


At the dunes, I crawl up and over the top. From there, I keep running and only now realize I’m still barefoot. Dry scrub, with some cactus thrown in for good measure, makes up the undergrowth on this side of the dune. The jog to Twelfth Street, about a city block away, will be painful. A few cars pass by on Twelfth, and I probably made the right choice in getting off the beach. When I look behind, I see that the man in black has just made it to the top of the dune. It looks like he may not follow me, but I can’t take any chances. I continue to move as fast as I can through the scrub, although my momentum slows. Another snap passes my ear, and the sound of the gun is close behind. The son of a bitch is trying to kill me from the top of the dune. I thank my lucky stars he doesn’t have a rifle, as at this range, a pistol hit would be a lucky shot indeed. Right away, I want to take back the thought since tempting fate like that would dictate the guy would have the luckiest shot possible given my arrogant belief he won’t be able to hit me.


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Love #UrbanFantasy and #Paranormal? Check out the Cursed Series by @AmyBraunAuthor #BookPromo

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Title: Demon’s Daughter

Author: Amy Braun

Genre: Urban fantasy, horror, paranormal

Series Title: Cursed



Book Blurb:

Wanted by law enforcement. Chased by drug cartels. Hunted by demons… 

Constance Ramirez has more than her share of problems when it comes to protecting her adopted sister, Andromeda. Especially since Andromeda isn’t fully human, and her strange powers are dangerous and out of control.

But Constance will do anything to keep her safe, which won’t be easy with bounty hunters hired by the drug cartel she betrayed looking to capture her, and savage monsters seeking to take Andromeda for their own dark purposes.

Being a big sister has never been so hard… Or so deadly.



“You’re bleeding,” Dro said in a quiet voice across from me.


          I looked at her, slowly sheathing my knife, trying to act like that simple movement wasn’t pure agony to my shoulders.


          “I’ll be all right,” I rasped out, my breathing still heavy from the fight.


          She took a tentative step closer to me. “I’m sorry, Constance. I was trying to get there sooner, but-”


          “You know the rules,” I told her. “Leave the fighting to me.”


          Dro was tougher than she looked. She had to be, given the way we lived. But deep down she was just too gentle, never wanting to hurt anyone or anything. She wasn’t comfortable with a weapon in her fist or blood on her hands.


          Not like I was.


          Dro frowned and looked at my injuries again, taking another step toward me. She didn’t hesitate, reaching out and pulling away the collar of my shirt to see the wicked wounds on my skin. Her frown deepened and she gently touched the broken skin on my shoulder. Her hands began to glow a strange golden light, and she began to heal me.


          There were many words a person could use to describe Dro. Special. Gifted. Strange. All of them were true, because she wasn’t human. I wanted to pretend she was, but it was impossible to do when she healed my injuries with a single touch. Or when she told me she could read other people’s thoughts if she concentrated enough. Or when she heard, smelled, or saw things way before I did. Or when she had the nightmares and burst into flame.


          None of it changed my love for her, but it did scare me. More than I wanted to admit.


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Amy Braun


Author Biography:

Amy is a Canadian urban fantasy and horror author. Her work revolves around monsters, magic, mythology, and mayhem. She started writing in her early teens, and never stopped. She loves building unique worlds filled with fun characters and intense action. She is the recipient of April Moon Books Editor Award for “author voice, world-building and general bad-assery,” and the One Book Two Standout Award in 2015 for her Cursed trilogy. She has been featured on various author blogs and publishing websites, and is an active member of the Writing GIAM and Weekend Writing Warrior communities. When she isn’t writing, she’s reading, watching movies, taking photos, gaming, and struggling with chocoholism and ice cream addiction.


Amy’s current work includes the full length novels Demon’s Daughter, Dark Divinity, Crimson Sky, and Path of the Horseman, and the novella Needfire. She has short stories in various horror and urban fantasy anthologies such as Call From The Grave, Hotel Hell, Survivalism in The Dead Walk: Volume 2, Dismantle in The Steam Chronicles, Lost Sky in Avast, Ye Airships!, Secret Suicide in That Hoodoo, Voodoo, That You Do, Bring Back The Hound in Stomping Grounds, Charlatan Charade in Lost in the Witching Hour, and her award winning short Dark Intentions And Blood in AMOK!



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 Dark Divinity


Title: Dark Divinity


Author: Amy Braun


Genre: Urban fantasy, horror, paranormal


Book Blurb:

Hell has risen. Heaven is descending. Sacrifices are made…

It’s been two months since Constance Ramirez’s adopted sister Andromeda was used as the Key to opening the Gates of Heaven and Hell. They escaped with their lives, but made countless enemies as a result.

Now that demons are beginning to weave into ordinary lives, their only hope is to find a way to close the Gates of Heaven and Hell before the angels and demons begin a war. Something that becomes only harder as one of Constance’s deadliest enemies resurfaces.

But as they struggle to stay alive and find the Gates, they learn that a huge sacrifice will be required if they succeed, and this time, Constance isn’t sure the cost will outweigh the reward…


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            Black blood squirted out of the wounds as I dragged them through the Shredder’s tough skin. My hands were covered in the burning, sickly smelling blood. I was hanging onto them so tightly I could feel the plastic hilts biting my palms. My face was pressed against the demon’s back so it couldn’t grab me, and my cheek was rubbing against the coarse Shredder hide. The smell was so bad my eyes started watering. I tugged on the blades. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away as more blood splashed onto me.


            Needless to say, the Shredder wasn’t appreciating my piggyback ride. It stabbed its claws over its shoulders, nearly embedding them in my skull even when I ducked. It twisted back and forth violently, not caring that my legs flopped around and smashed into its side, thighs, and back. I hung on as tightly as I could, but my blood-slick hands were starting to slip from the knives.


            One sharp twist finally hurled me off the demon’s back. I slammed into the truck’s windshield, glass cracking against my spine. I shook off the dizziness in my head as the Shredder turned around, stabbing at me with both of its claws. I rolled just as its bony talons punched through the glass next to me. I felt the windshield sink behind me, and rotated my body until I fell off the hood of the truck.


            I landed hard on my side and I turned onto my back. I was about to get up when the Shredder pounced onto the truck’s hood. Metal squealed as it bent under the huge monster. Its lips peeled back in a snarl as it stared at me with enraged, pale eyes. It held its claws out on either side of its massive body, ready to pounce for the final kill.


            My heart bounced in my ribcage as I scrambled for an idea. I was out of weapons. No one was around to help me. When that demon jumped on me, it was going to slice me to ribbons.


            Just as I was thinking about how quickly I could move before the Shredder caught me, a blast of white light filled my vision. I threw my arm over my eyes while the temperature in the room ratcheted up fifteen degrees in a single second. The heat was like standing in front of a furnace. I scrambled to my feet. Once my head cleared, I turned around, and saw that the truck was on fire.


            Blinding white flames wrapped around the vehicle like they were coming from a flamethrower. There were four shotgun-like pops as the tires exploded. The demon was consumed by the blaze. I couldn’t see the shape of the Shredder any more, but I could still smell rotting, burning demon flesh. I could hear it screaming.


            I followed the direction of the flames, and saw Dro standing with her hands outstretched in front of her. Her pale, angelic face was pinched in concentration. Two streams of hellfire blazed out from her palms.


            I stared, trying to understand what I was seeing. Dro had never been able to use hellfire like this. It only happened when she was dreaming. She would scream in her sleep and burst into flames that wouldn’t hurt her, but would destroy anything around her. She had never been able to control it before.


            But now she was.



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The final chapter in the praised CURSED trilogy, DAMNATION’S DOOR is a 310 page novel that sets its heroes against all odds, testing their trust in one another and pushing them each to their breaking points, forcing them to finally confront the darkness surrounding their lives above it, and either rise or fall before it…


Demons are free. Angels are fallen. Hope is dying…

Constance Ramirez and her adopted sister, Andromeda, have stopped Lucifer’s plan– They have closed the Heaven Gate and kept the demons out. But their choice came with brutal consequences, and now every angel on earth is trapped in their mortal body.

All that remains is closing the Hell Gate and establishing a balance once and for all. That means returning to the city of Constance’s nightmares, which has become a haven for murderers and monsters. But even more dangerous than their hunt is that Andromeda’s powers and instincts are turning darker, and this time Constance doesn’t know how to protect her.

Constance is ready to fight for her life, but her enemies have plans she can’t begin to imagine, and they’re prepared to make her suffer…

Trust is lost and hearts are broken in the epic conclusion in Amy Braun’s Cursed trilogy…

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The third and final novel in the urban fantasy/horror CURSED trilogy, DAMNATION’S DOOR takes place mere weeks after the climax of DARK DIVINITY. Forced to retreat to the city that haunts their past, Constance Ramirez, her sister Dro, and their companions– ex-angel Sephiel, psychic Max, and demon slayer Warrick– search for the keys that will close the door to Hell and lock Lucifer and his demons away forever. But the city that Constance and Dro return to isn’t the one they survived in. This new city is darker and bloodier, filled with random acts of terror and violence. Constance. But that isn’t all that she and her friends need to worry about. Constance soon becomes the main target of her old enemies, sadistic bounty hunter Drake and her former lover Mateo. But what they have planned for her is worse than death, a way to finally break Constance and force Dro to relinquish herself to Lucifer, a path that the half-angel, half-demon girl is already started on. Constance can see the changes in her sister, and this time she isn’t sure that she’ll be strong enough to save her.


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Not too long ago, I had a conversation with a friend of mine about how stories should end– Happily Ever After’s should only work if you put your characters through Hell, especially in the final book of a series. That’s when the stakes are at their highest, the tensions at their thickest, and the characters at their strongest. I knew right from the get-go that DAMNATION’S DOOR had to be grueling. I had to take the knowledge from DEMON’S DAUGHTER and the consequences from DARK DIVINITY into motion while adding new obstacles for Constance and her friends. I wanted everyone to be pushed to the limit, to be faced with situations where they truly didn’t know the outcome. To consider that not everyone might make it out alive.


I wanted to continue with the flashbacks with Constance and Dro, choosing a different route with them to show a time when the pressure became too much for Dro to handle. With that similar line of thought, I wanted Constance’s trials to be on a deeper, more emotional level. She’s already endured plenty of physical trials, but what would it have been like for her to watch her little sister, the girl she’s cared for and loved since she was four years old, turn into someone she didn’t know? Someone who was finally breaking under the pressure and stress of unimaginable powers that threatened all she loved? And what would Dro do that would force her to think such things?


Enter, the setting. I read some chilling history on Ciudad Juárez and while things have changed since I wrote this story, I wanted to use the reputation of the former Murder Capital of the world to really make things difficult for Constance and her friends. Using a setting notorious for being dangerous and deadly would make challenges even more formidable, particularly since Constance is forced to return to the city that twisted her morals and nearly made her lose herself.


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Unlike the previous novels, I didn’t need to re-write this story. By the time DEMON’S DAUGHTER and DARK DIVINITY were completed, I knew what route the story needed to take. That doesn’t mean I didn’t search for help, however. One of my best friends brainstormed with me and presented an idea for a truly wicked search. I loved his idea, and I think it adds to the utter bleakness of the story with a twist at the end that I don’t think anyone will see coming.

There were surprisingly few edits that needed to be done between my editor and myself. I think that’s the sign of a strong story, which is especially important that this is the big one, the story that has to end with a bang, the way all epic stories do. While I’m confident with the end result of DAMNATION’S DOOR, I’ve definitely got some nervous butterflies floating around my stomach.


I definitely dove headfirst into the promotional aspect of this novel. Since it was released a mere month after my standalone novel STORM BORN, I worked hard to send it to other reviewers and blogs to get more exposure. I received a gorgeous cover courtesy of the incredible design team at Deranged Doctor Designs that perfectly encapsulates DAMNATION’S DOOR, and was given the chance to participate in all sorts of spotlights, cover reveals, interviews, and other promotions. It was a great experience, since I find self-promotion to be the hardest part of independent writing, next to my personal Hell– proper formatting.


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It took close to three years for the CURSED series to finally reach its end, and while I’m a little sad to be retiring certain characters, I’m also really proud of myself. It was no easy task to create three chapters of one long story and release them as a new author is no small task, and nothing if not intimidating. But to know that I achieved my goal, gave the characters the send-offs they deserved, and to make this the first major book series to cross off my list.

And it’s one that I would do all over again.


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Here’s an exclusive sneak peek to Damnation’s Door:

Chapter 1

            It was supposed to be simple.


            I actually thought we would be able to step outside our shelter, get the supplies, and be back before anyone realized we’d been there.


            This is what happens when my sister’s optimism rubs off on me.


            But it wasn’t Dro’s fault that we walked into a damn trap. Hell just hated us.


            That was fine. I hated Hell right back.


            The cheap metal door was still clanging against the plaster wall of the store I’d just busted into. Max had looked into it when I asked, and told me there would be demons, but he couldn’t tell what kind because his precog was still blurred. I was expecting a couple Reds or ghouls, maybe a Shredder.


            I was not expecting Possessors.


            The possessed humans weren’t surprised to see us. Even in their human forms, the Possessors should have been able to sense my sister, because she was the most powerful half-demon known to exist. Since she was still on Hell’s Most Wanted List, we had a serious problem on our hands.


            The Possessors looked like regular humans, except their irises were solid black. I held back my shiver, knowing just how much pain their souls must be in. Being possessed was one of the worst things a human could experience. I had barely survived it.


These Possessors had taken over a group of tall, bulky men in black clothes. Their hair ranged from shoulder-length to bald, and their arms were covered in tattoos. Each had the tattoo of a rose thorn that appeared to be weaving in and out of their skin, blood dripping from the points. I had the same one inked behind my ear.


            This just keeps getting better and better.


            Finally, we snapped out of our shock. I went for the hatchet on my hip and grabbed a knife from my inside jacket. Beside me, Warrick took out a handgun. Next to him, Sephiel drew two short swords. Max wisely stepped back, knowing he couldn’t fight half as well as the rest of us. Dro’s shoulders were tense and ready, but I moved in front of her not just to protect her, but to keep her from doing anything that would get all of us killed.


            I started reconsidering this when all of the Possessors drew enormous handguns.


            But they didn’t shoot. Why weren’t they shooting?


            Because someone else was in the room with us. Someone bigger than the Possessors, who stalked out from the shadows into the dim light. My hand tightened on the grip of my weapons, and I expected Warrick to pull the trigger.


            Drake Talbot smiled when he saw our anger. He was a huge bear of a man, about six foot three and probably two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. He had on his black duster and dark pants, his hands on his hips to display the guns and the thick, blunt hilts of his knives easily visible next to his clothes. The top of his head and his chin were covered in dark stubble. Two abysmal black eyes stared at me, filled with sadism and malice.


            “Well, look who showed their faces after all,” Drake sneered, standing confidently behind his bodyguards. “We didn’t think you’d make it to Party Town.”


            Party Town. I supposed Drake would see it that way. I didn’t think a city full of murderers, rapists, and generally wicked people was a place to party, but Drake was the definition of a masochist. He would see a city of death as home, sweet home.


            Warrick didn’t have a kill shot, and that was the only reason I could imagine for Drake to still be standing. All it would take was one missed shot to set off a chain reaction of bullets and blood.


            I wanted to see Drake bleeding under my boot just as much as he did, but I wasn’t throwing my knife, either. Something wasn’t right.


            “What are you doing here, Drake?” I growled.


            He laughed. It was an awful, rasping noise. His black eyes met mine, the same way they had when he stabbed me twice and left me to die. I blocked out the memory, keeping away the phantom pain of a knife sliding into my stomach and ribs.


            “Had to pick something up for the boss,” he said mockingly. “You can imagine how fussy he is.”


            My blood went cold, and I barely heard Dro’s sharp intake of breath. I could picture Sephiel’s face tightening with anger. Drake looked at all of us, relishing the hatred, pain, and fear we radiated. I controlled it as best as I could, knowing answers were more important than revenge right now.


            “What the fuck did you do?” I asked again.


            His grin widened, and this time he only looked at me. “It isn’t what I did. It’s what I’m going to do.” He dipped his chin, fixing me with his black gaze. “He’s got plans for you, chica. Serious plans. So much detail has gone into them that even your ex isn’t allowed to intervene. Matt’s pretty pissed about that too.”


            Not as pissed as he would be if he heard you calling him ‘Matt.’


            “See, I found something really, really special.” Drake continued. “It’s the last thing we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon.”


My stomach turned. I expected him to say something about wanting Dro. My sister was the real supernatural force in our group. I was human, born and raised. I’d never been anything but. I didn’t want to be.


Whatever was being planned for me by Drake, my former lover, and the creature I feared above anything else could only involve pain. A substantial amount of it.


            I’d been on the receiving end of their tortures before. I had no intention of going through them again.

            Though if they wanted me for something, they wouldn’t risk shooting me. They would take me alive.

            No, they’re not. They’re going to try. And they’re going to fail.


I took a risk myself, and threw my silver knife at Drake.


            I didn’t miss–I hardly ever miss–but I didn’t hit my mark.


            The thin silver blade slammed into the neck of the Possessor standing beside Drake. The huge bounty hunter had stepped to the side so the blade wouldn’t get anywhere near him. He stepped so far I was a little embarrassed at how off my aim had been. Deep down, I knew better. Drake was fast for someone his size, but it looked like he’d gotten quite a bit from his deal with the Devil.


            The man lurched, blood gushing from the wound in his neck. He opened his mouth as though to scream, but a spiral of thick black smoke shot out of his mouth. The Possessor’s true form screeched and twisted away in the back room. Then room exploded into action.


At first I thought the Possessors were going to shoot us. At their cores, they were still gangsters. Yet as soon as I surged forward, I saw them hesitate.


            They were here to stall us, not kill us. At least not me, and probably not Dro.


            Everyone else though… they were fair game.


            Two shots cracked in rapid succession. None of the bullets hit me, though two of the possessed Blood Thorns dropped from the bullets that crashed into their skulls, scaring the Possessors out of their vessel’s dying mouths. Warrick had exceptional aim, and shooting demons with blessed silver bullets was good way to keep them from returning to rip us apart.


            I went for Drake, who was backing away to escape through the storeroom exit. Fucking coward.

            Two Possessors blocked my path. They tucked their guns away and threw out their fists. I skidded to a stop and stepped back, one of their clenched hands brushing along my temple.


            Admittedly, I didn’t think this whole plan through. Seeing the man who murdered my mentor, kidnapped my sister, tortured and tried to kill me sparked my already short temper. So it wasn’t long before they got their shots in.


            The man on my left jabbed his fist into my ribs. I winced, giving the man on the right the chance to loop his arm around my throat. I was pinned to his back, my neck straining painfully as he wrenched it up. I used one hand to claw at the meaty arm on my throat, leaving my front completely exposed to the second man. He grinned, thinking he was going to get some revenge on me for the sake of his employers.


            Stupid bastard forgot I was still armed.


            He pulled back his fist to hit me, and even as his fist was flying for my face, I was moving. I kicked him in the knee with one foot, making him stumble. His fist brushed over my shoulder and into the chest of the man choking me. I kicked his stomach with my other foot, making him double over. Then I sliced the blade of my hatchet into his exposed neck.


            Blood squirted out of his severed carotid artery, painting the dirty floor before he collapsed onto it.

            The man behind me growled and slammed his fist into my kidneys. I winced at the crushing pain. He was so much stronger now that he was possessed. His grip tightened on my neck, causing black spots to dance in front of my eyes. The Possessor’s free hand shot out to catch my wrist and keep the hatchet away from him. He squeezed until I thought he was going to break my hand.


            Then he stiffened and released his hold. A warm liquid peppered my neck, filling the air with the coppery smell of blood. I pitched forward, touching my throat and coughing to get back the oxygen I’d missed. Assured that my neck wasn’t broken, I turned around to see what had saved me.


            My little sister stood over the Possessor, the knife in her hand dripping fresh blood onto the floor. The man crab walked away, blood oozing from his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound in his throat. He looked terrified of my sister.


            At first glance, Dro wasn’t the kind of girl anyone would be afraid of. She was sixteen, and utterly beautiful with the face of a saint. Her skin was flawless and paper pale. Long white hair rested in a braid along her back, ending at the base of her spine. But over the last few weeks, there was a darkness lurking behind her ice blue eyes. A danger that needed to be avoided at all costs.


            A malevolence that reminded me of her father.


            “What did Drake steal?” she demanded in a cold voice that didn’t belong to her.


            “We– we never knew,” the Possessor pleaded. Usually these were the kinds of demons that toyed with their prey. The demon that possessed me had felt Dro’s power, which meant this one must have been sensing it too. I started to understand why he was so afraid.


“We were just told to wait here. They knew you’d be looking for him, and we were supposed to keep you from killing him.”


            I glanced at the back door. It was open, and Max was beside it, keeping Warrick from going through. He was likely trying to explain that the revenge-crazed demon slayer wasn’t going to be able to find his nemesis tonight. Warrick was standing profile to me, though I could only imagine the anger burning in his neon green eyes.


            “You’re lying.”


            Dro’s hollow tone made me look at her again. My eyes flicked down when I saw the light coming from her left hand. Blazing white flames were curling around her wrist, clawing their way up her arm. The Possessor’s eyes widened as he stared at the hellfire she was controlling. He’d probably seen what it could do, and I didn’t blame him for being scared.


            “I’m not!” the Possessor cried, snapping me out of my thoughts. His voice was becoming hoarse from the blood loss. “I’m not, I swear!”


            I’d been in this situation before. You accused someone of lying, they said they weren’t, and then you started beating the truth out of them. Eventually, you got the answer you wanted. I could tell when someone was putting on a façade, and when they were being honest.


            This demon didn’t know shit.


            “Dro,” I croaked. I muted my cough. She still didn’t hear me. The fires continued to rise up her arms.


            “Dro, that’s enough,” I warned her.


            She didn’t listen to me, clenching her fist and increasing the light from the flames until I could no longer see the outline of her hand.


            “Andromeda,” I half shouted.


            My adopted sister turned her head slightly at the sound of my voice. Her eyes locked on mine, and I was amazed at all the anger she was holding back. It softened when she saw me, but not nearly as much as I wanted it to.


            “He doesn’t know anything,” I told her. “We’re done here.”


            Dro twisted her head back to the dying Possessor, white hair swishing against her back. The hellfire dulled and evaporated from her fist. She looked at the bloody knife in her hand, then went still.

            This was the first time Dro had ever killed a human on purpose with her bare hands.


            I walked to my sister. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She jumped under my touch, glancing back at me. I saw the terrified, ashamed little girl who would never forgive herself for this. I wasn’t happy with that, but it was better than seeing the look of a cold-blooded murderer.


            These days, I took what I could get with Dro.


            “Go outside with the guys. Make sure Drake’s not waiting to trap us, and that Warrick doesn’t chase after him.”


            Dro’s light eyes held my dark ones. “I don’t need to go outside. I can do that from in here.”


            I clutched her shoulder just a little harder. “No. You don’t need your powers for this.”






            One look at her narrowed eyes and harsh frown told me that we were going to fight about this later. Probably the moment I saw her again outside.


            Regardless, Dro put her knife on her belt, glanced at the dying Possessor one last time, and stormed to the front door. Her guardian and ex-angel Sephiel gave me a small nod. He would protect her from anything while I wasn’t there. As he followed my aggravated sister, I watched Max hesitantly show Warrick the front door. He was smart not to touch him. Warrick looked ready to punch the lights out of the first person that crossed him.


Once they were gone, I picked up my silver throwing knife and sheathed it in my jacket. The other Possessors had vacated their human vessels, leaving behind their dead bodies. Usually Possessors put up more of fight than this. I couldn’t help but remember that they were fodder for something much more sinister. I stood by the dying Possessor, who was now flat on his back and choking on his own blood. Possessors hated to leave their vessels, but I wasn’t going to exorcise him. I didn’t have the time, and even if I did, he was a dead man. The wound in his throat was too grievous. The Possessor was the only thing keeping him “alive.”


I knelt beside his head, dangling the hatchet in front of my knee. When my eyes locked onto his, they weren’t filled with the pain I’d expected them to be. If anything, he seemed proud. Whatever his goal had been, he appeared to have accomplished it.


            “Tell me something useful, and I’ll end it,” I told him.


            The Possessor made a noise between a rasp and a gurgle. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing.


            “Not… long… now,” he choked out. “She’ll be… his… soon…”


            He grinned, blood staining his teeth. I decided against the mercy killing. I slowly pushed myself up, ignoring the aches and pains in my body. I walked around the shop, looking through the cabinets and drawers to salvage anything I could. I found some packets of dried and canned food, as well as some bottles of lukewarm water. I never once looked back at the dying Possessor, knowing it couldn’t take me over since I had an anti-possession sigil tattooed over my heart.


Yet I couldn’t shake the foreboding words the Possessor had given me. As I walked out of the store and back into the dark, bloody streets, I recalled what Drake said.


            See, I found something really, really special. It’s the last thing we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon.


            There was only one reason Drake, Mateo, and Lucifer himself would target me.


            They wanted to capture my sister.


Jewels of the Desert Series by @TMorganAuthor is intoxicating #Romance #SheikhRomance

Three mysterious ancient jewels… Three sexy sheikh brothers… The Jewels of the Desert series will heat up your life. 


Handcuffed to the Sheikh



Title: Handcuffed to the Sheikh Too (Jewels of the Desert Book 1)

Author: Teresa Morgan

Genre: Contemporary Romance (Sheikh Romance)


Book Blurb:

The last thing feisty American heiress Gwen Spenser expected when she went to Zallaq was to wake up handcuffed to the desert kingdom’s super hot, but aloof, ruler. But when rebel outlaws abduct them both, they have no choice but to escape–together.

As if it’s not enough to be hunted by their kidnappers, cut off from all help, and face an unrelenting desert, the sexy sheikh reveals that if they don’t make it back to civilization in three days, they’ll be shacked together permanently… as man and wife.

Little does Gwen suspect that the biggest threat she faces comes from the man she’s shackled to…


Exclusive Excerpt:

“I repeat, what are you doing in my bed?”

As Gwen sat up, she reached behind to cradle the back of her head. At least she tried to. Something hard and cold pressed into her wrist and kept her from moving far. She looked at the hand, willing her eyes to focus. One side of a set of handcuffs shackled her to…

Oh crap. To him.

What the hell was going on?

He swung his long, expensively trousered legs over the edge of the bed. Ah yes, he’d asked what she was doing in his bed. No idea, Your Majesty.

“Ah,” he said. “You are the spy.”

Her back went ramrod straight at the accusation. “I told you before, I am not a—”

She blew out a breath. She couldn’t really blame him for bringing that up again. She’d gone out to the balcony to give him back the Heart of Zallaq, and when his brother burst in, she couldn’t interrupt. So she hid. “I got stuck behind a potted plant, that’s all.”

The sheikh began to tie his bow tie. Masterfully. Without a mirror. Fifteen seconds after waking up. But because his left hand was handcuffed to her right, she had to scramble to her knees to keep her wrist from being wrenched. “I will pretend to believe you. For now. We will discuss why you were kissing me after you explain where have you taken us.”

“You kissed me. And I didn’t take us anywhere.” She glanced around the room, which wasn’t completely dark anymore. At the other end, six feet off the ground, was a small window, gridded with solid metal bars. Golden dust motes floated in the light filtering through. “I have no clue where we are. The last thing I remember is going to bed in your palace, mister.”

The sheikh’s eyebrows slammed together above his patrician nose. “Mister?” he asked, as if the word tasted of stale garlic.

Gwen bit the inside of her cheek. He ruled a country, and he was her host. She should treat him with more respect. Well, screw that. Someone had kidnapped them and shackled them to each other. Not much room for respect there.

“Get used to it,” she told him, and jingled the chain of their restraints. “We’re stuck together with each other. I’m not calling you ‘Your Majesty’ for the next who knows how long. Do you know where we are?”

Something was off. Well, everything, actually. Nothing was right here. She scanned the room quickly. They weren’t in the palace, unless they were in a dungeon that hadn’t been on the tour.

He narrowed those half-gold eyes at her, then checked out the room. If the Royal Palace of Zallaq, a light and elegant fusion of centuries-old marble and modern concept glass, had an opposite, this room was it. Instead of entire walls of glass to make you feel the room floated on the edge of a cliff, a little natural light trickled in from one tiny barred window. A single buzzing light bulb glowed in the center of the room, leaving the corners in shadow. Unlike the intricate mosaics of the palace, cheap tile in mottled beige covered the floor.

The rustic wooden table and mismatched chairs had seen better days— many, many better days. The thin, uncovered mattress seemed new. Well, that was a relief, since they’d spent at least part of the night there. No bedbugs or other little friends, at least.

“I am afraid not,” he said. Calmly. How in the hell could he be so calm?


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Author Biography:

Hello, I’m Teresa Morgan. I believe in fun, in fantasy, and that the power of love can heal most wounds.

I’m pretty boring in real life. I’m Cool Auntie to two fabulous nieces who love waterslides, and my boyfriend is a Vibration Engineer, which will never stop being funny. I live in a cold, dark city and dream of the desert.

The most interesting thing about me is that I write romance novels. Inside my head, there are whole worlds waiting to get out. I write about sexy, but damaged, heroes who are willing to do anything to get what they want. And of course I have to pit them against belligerent heroines (okay, they might not be belligerent at the start of the story, but they are by the end!) who can stand their ground against anything–or anyone–who gets in their way.

I’m inspired by love triumphing over evil, little old couples who walk around holding hands, and Tom Hiddleston dancing.

My boyfriend introduced me to the love of Formula One racing and sexy cars, which is fantastic, and to jogging, which I will never forgive him for.

For me, romance novels are about getting away from harsh realities and diving into universal truths. That we are all more alike than we are different, and that at the core, we all want the same things. Happiness. Security. Love. To build things that last for generations.

Most of the time I’m at my local coffee shop writing about hot sheikhs and dancing with the cruel mistress caffeine. When I take a break, you can find me driving a MINI Cooper named Alice, watching Orphan Black, reading fantasy or romance novels on my Kindle, scuba diving, whipping up award-winning dulche de leche cookies, and planning my next trip (Prague? Singapore? Playa del Carmen?), but not all at the same time.


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ds_vs_ap cover


Title: Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (Jewels of the Desert Book 2)

Author: Teresa Morgan

Genre: Contemporary Romance (Sheikh Romance)


Book Blurb:

When he kidnapped a princess, he didn’t count on her…

Walid Al Kalam’s plan is simple. The American Celebutante Noelle Oldrich will remain in his palace until her father pays his debts. Without the money her hotel magnate father owes him, Walid cannot fulfill his commitment to the pipeline that represents the future of the small middle eastern country of Askar.

But Noelle isn’t the passive, agreeable guest that she should rationally be. Instead, the willful American princess disrupts the peace of his home, and his peace of mind. Whether she is running through his courtyard in skin-tight gear or braiding together a rope to lower herself out a window, the intelligent beauty threatens his very sanity.

Enter the pirate princess…

No way will any sheikh keep Noelle Oldrich captive, even if she does want to rip the stuffy suits off the hot Arabic David Beckham clone.

She might be good for nothing but spending money and wearing clothes, but Noelle will escape the sexy sheikh’s palace, no matter what. She has to—no way will her father pay his debt. The only help she’s going to get is from her childhood imaginary friend, a pirate princess who is ready to make the stupid, sexy sheikh walk the plank.

A fabulous jewel…

Noelle’s one chance to pay her own ransom and escape the sheikh’s control is to find the legendary jewel, the Palm of Askar, lost for decades.

If she finds the diamond, Walid will have to let her go, but his drugging kisses threaten to turn her into a willing captive…


Exclusive Excerpt:

She stumbled backward, and for an instant, he did not understand why. Then he realized. Without instructions from his mind, his body had advanced on her, forcing her to retreat. Right up against the wall, until she had it solid at her back and him blocking her in front.

She had felt trapped before? He would show her how he truly could trap her if he desired. He slammed his hands to the sides of her head. She was no model-thin wisp of a woman, not with her rounded hips and breasts that begged to be caressed—breasts now squished against his chest in a most satisfying way. Even so, he loomed over her.

“Do I seem stupid to you?” he hissed at her. “I am trying to resolve an awkward situation without making it into a public relations nightmare. People’s livelihoods are at stake. The reputation of both Askar and your father hang on what happens in this palace.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” She raised her chin in a classic pose of defiance.

An extremely good question. What did he think he was doing? He had never needed to intimidate females before. He had never needed to pursue, cajole, or seduce. Women came to him, for the most part because he was first the heir, then the ruler, of Askar. And perhaps because they found him attractive. The women who had offered themselves did so with full knowledge that he would make his ultimate choice of wife based on the woman’s suitability to the role.

And yet, seeing Noelle dangling in a treacherous position in the air high above his courtyard… Seeing her courageous and defiant… Some part of him had desired her success, even as he feared for her and cursed her stupidity. Had she thought his guards would not see her and rouse him? Even if she had made it to the ground, which he had to admit she had done, she never would have found her way out from the palace’s high walls. His security would not have permitted such a thing. But she had made the attempt. Against all odds and common sense, she had fought her captivity and taken him by surprise.

Broken and cut off from support, she gathered her bravery and risked everything she had.

Now, like Noelle, Askar must gather its courage and risk everything to survive.

“Walid,” came a breathy voice from in front of him.

Noelle’s face was very close to his own. Her eyes had widened to enormous green pools. Her mouth, moistened and parted, aligned with his own. Her breath touched his lips. Probably because he had bent his head to her. Exactly as if he meant to kiss her.

He blinked in confusion to find himself in this position. How had this occurred?

She darted out from his arms, ducking to effect her escape.

When he turned, she stood in the middle of the room, a rage blush pinking her face.

“I am—” What? How did he complete that sentence? I am sorry? He was not the least bit sorry for nearly kissing her. Only sorry that he had not. Why was he so drawn to this reckless female?

If he was another man, he might lie to smooth his way with her, but he could not stomach deception. An order. He had to give an order, regain control of the situation.

“Do not do anything else so insane, Noelle,” he warned. “Wait for your father to pay—”

She dared interrupt him. “My ransom?”

“His debt,” he corrected.


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The Office Slave by @OpalCarew is a Must-Read Series #EroticRomance #bookpromo

Photo of sexy young woman in lingerie - lying on bed


The Office Slave is not a serial novel – each story can be read and enjoyed as a standalone, though the books are better enjoyed in order.


The Office Slave BOOK 1 _ cover


Title: The Office Slave (The Office Slave Book 1)

Author: Opal Carew

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance (Short Story)


Book Blurb:

Her ultimate sexual fantasy brought to life…

Sylvia loves to read erotica, and after her latest read, she’s developed a sizzling fantasy about submitting to the sexual whims of four incredibly hot business partners. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d have the opportunity to live out her fantasy… until her friend decides to make it happen. Now she’s about to become an office slave… to four hunky men she’s never even met. But faced with the reality, can she actually go through with it?


Exclusive Excerpt:

“Am I early?” she asked as she sat down in the chair across from his desk.

“No, not at all. The others will meet us in the conference room in a few minutes.”

She nodded, starting to feel a little nervous. Would her fantasy begin in the conference room? Would they order her to take off all her clothes, then… other things. She’d been looking forward to this fantasy for over a week-ever since Becca had told her she wanted to set it up, and that it would be acted out by some of Cal’s ex-stripper friends-but now that the reality was here, she had a case of nerves.

This man Mike was extremely masculine, and sexy, and he set her hormones humming, but could she really just strip down and become his sex toy. Along his three partners, too?

Don’t freak out now. This is your fantasy!

Mike leaned forward, his hands folded on his desk. “So Cal told us what you were looking for. As I understand it, your brother cheated us out of a sizeable amount of money and you agree to be our sex slave in return for not prosecuting him.”

Sylvia felt her cheeks heat as she nodded. In her head, especially after reading that book, it seemed extremely sexy, but laid out blatantly like that made her feel brash and… well, maybe a little slutty. And… maybe she was being… uh…brash. But both Becca and Jan had lived out their fantasies, and both were pretty wild. Why shouldn’t she?

And when she’d become enamored of the fantasy, she’d never, ever dreamed she’d live it out. What woman did? But now that she had the opportunity, she really didn’t want to walk away.

“So, don’t get me wrong, I find the whole thing wildly sexy, but…”-he shrugged-“we sound a bit mean, prosecuting your brother.” At his grin and the twinkle in his eye, she knew he wasn’t making fun of her, but he was teasing her.

“Well, he did do you wrong.”

“True. But then we’re distracted by a beautiful woman.”

Her cheeks burned hotter at his compliment. “Well, a woman offering sex, anyway.”

He chuckled and stood up. “Okay, I think we’re ready to proceed. The others know the story and are ready to go and we all know the safe word is Tiger. The minute we step out of this office, we’re into our roles. Okay?”

“Okay.” Her stomach quivered as she stood up.

They walked to the door together, but before he opened it, he took her hand and kissed it. Tingles danced along her skin at the delicate brush of his lips.

“Sylvia, thank you for including us in your fantasy.” Then he winked and opened the door.



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Author Biography:

Opal Carew is New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotic romance.  She was named “Fresh Face of Erotic Fiction 2009” and her books have won the Award of Excellence, Golden Leaf Award, Golden Quill Award, and National Readers’ Choice Award.  They have also been finalists for the HOLT Medallion, Laurel Wreath Award, Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and Passionate Plume Award.  Also, her book TOTAL ABANDON was a finalist for RT Book Reviews magazine’s best erotic book of 2011 award.

Opal loves crystals, dragons, feathers, cats, pink hair, the occult, Manga artwork, and all that glitters.  She earned a degree in Mathematics from the University of Waterloo, and spent 15 years as a software analyst before turning to her passions as a writer.  She lives in Canada with her husband, two sons and two cats.

To learn more about Opal, visit her website at , or contact her at


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The Office Slave BOOK 2 _ cover


Title: The Boss (The Office Slave # 2)

Author: Opal Carew

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance (Short Story)


Book Blurb:

Her ultimate sexual fantasy brought to life… now it gets real.

Sylvia’s friend had arranged for her to live out her sexual fantasy of being office slave to four hot hunky business partners, and at the end, their fifth partner had called to ask if she wanted to be dominated… for real.

Sylvia couldn’t get his deep, domineering voice out of her head. It had only been a one minute phone conversation, but it had elicited the most compelling and intense sex dreams she’d ever known.

Now she was about to give up total control to the man behind the voice. The Boss.


Exclusive Excerpt:

Sylvia opened the office door and stepped inside.

A suited man sat behind a huge, mahogany desk, staring at a large, sleek laptop. His glossy hair, black as a raven’s wing, was cropped short. His face, with high cheekbones and angular jaw framing full lips, was striking. He glanced at her with piercing steel-blue eyes and her breath caught. He was intensely masculine. And incredibly sexy.

“Miss Reed.”


His gaze took in her face, then drifted down her neck and settled on her chest. Heat washed through her at his intense scrutiny. Her nipples puckered as he blatantly stared at her breasts. Then his gaze drifted downward again, slowing over her stomach, then settling a few inches below her navel. She felt as if he could see right through her skirt to the black lace panties beneath. Her vagina clenched.

Her breath held, and when his gaze slid back to her face, she was elated to see approval in his eyes.

“Are you ready to submit to me?”

Her throat suddenly went dry. This was her last chance to change her mind.

She drew in a deep breath, then nodded.
God, the man had barely spoken to her, and she had just agreed to do anything he wanted.

“You will call me Sir, or Mr. Grant.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now take off your panties.”


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The Office Slave Book 1 and 2 Boxed Set cover


* You can purchase the boxed set of The Office Slave Books 1 and 2 for the same price as each individual story here: *






The Office Slave BOOK 3 - cover


Title: On Her Knees (The Office Slave # 3)

Author: Opal Carew

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance (Short Story)


Book Blurb:

Her friend had arranged for her to live out her fantasy of being office slave to four hot hunky business partners, and at the end, their fifth partner had called to ask if she wanted to be dominated… for real. His deep, domineering voice had elicited the most compelling and intense dreams she’d ever known. Then when she gave up control to him, she was totally hooked.

Now she is exploring what it means to be in a Dominant/submissive relationship with a man who seems to gain more pleasure from watching her with other men rather than giving her what she really wants. Him.

Mr. Grant has never experienced a submissive as willing and desirable as Sylvia. Everything about her makes him want her, eroding the steadfast control he keeps over himself when mastering a woman.

No submissive has ever broken through his carefully erected barrier of indifference. Until now.

Can Sylvia break through his self-imposed walls to touch the man beneath?


Exclusive Excerpt:

Sylvia knocked on the double door and waited. A moment later, the door opened. Her breath caught at the sight of Mr. Grant, so tall and handsome in his dark, finely tailored suit.

“Come in, Sylvia.”

She stepped inside, a little intimidated by the large, luxurious suite. Four men relaxed in a sitting area by a big window overlooking the lights of the city below, all impeccably dressed in expensive looking suits. They sat in beige brocade upholstered armchairs with tall high backs and wooden armrests.

She had half-expected the men Mr. Grant wanted her to entertain to be his business partners, simply role-playing. But these men were all strangers. And like Mr. Grant’s partners, they were all very handsome.

Her original fantasy had been to be slave to several business partners in a company, just like in the erotic story she’d read, and her friend had arranged to have that come true by sending her to Mr. Grant’s partners.

Then Mr. Grant had offered to make her obvious desire to be in a Dominant-submissive relationship a reality. Now things were moving to a whole new level.

The chairs were arranged around one side of an oval coffee table, facing a couch, which sat empty. As she followed Mr. Grant into the room, the man sitting on the far left attracted her eye. He was taller than the others and had a strong, square jaw, like Mr. Grant’s. His penetrating blue eyes watched her with interest, gliding down her body in a way that made her breath catch.

Mr. Grant sat down on the couch and she stood by his side, a little uncertainly. She wouldn’t sit down without his permission, and he didn’t give it.

“Sylvia, this is Mr. Robertson, Mr. Jacobs, Mr. Smith, and Mr. King,” he said as he gestured from right to left.

“Hello.” She kept her gaze slanted to the floor as she nodded.

“So, is this your surprise, Grant?” Mr. Robertson gazed at her with a smile.

“Yes, this is Sylvia. She’ll help make the evening more interesting.”

“I’m all for more interesting,” Mr. Jacobs said, his heated gaze sending tremors through her.

“She is every bit as beautiful as you claimed.” Mr. Smith gazed at her with a smile.

Mr. Grant sat further back on the couch and widened his legs. “Come and sit here, Sylvia.” He took her hand and drew her in front of him and she perched on the couch, between his legs, facing the other men.

“I think it’s warm enough in here that you don’t need your jacket,” he said as he reached around and unfastened the button on her suit jacket, then drew it from her shoulders.

His touch, as always, sent need rippling through her.

She drew her arms from the sleeves and he laid it on the couch beside them.

She was very aware of his powerful legs cradling her, the heat of his big body behind her, and his hand resting lightly on her hip.

“Sylvia, my business associates and I have just agreed upon a new business venture, and have just signed the contracts. Now we want to celebrate.” He leaned a little closer, his breath a gentle wisp against her ear as he spoke. “We’d like you to help us do that. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Mr. Grant,” she said breathlessly.


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Title: Her New Master (The Office Slave # 4) – released February 2nd, 2016! J

Author: Opal Carew

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance (Short Story)


Book Blurb:

Sylvia has always had a sizzling fantasy about submitting to four irresistible and dominant business partners. When the senior partner showed up, he turned her submission into something very real. She became his, heart and soul, falling in love with him. But then Mr. Grant rejected her and sold her to another man.

Shattered by his rejection… now she must face her new master.


black and white fashion photo of sexy impassioned couple posing in studio

Exclusive Excerpt:

Warning: Spoilers below for those that have not read The Office Slave #3: On Her Knees


Sylvia’s stomach clenched at the pain.  Mr. Grant had sold her to Mr. King.

She wanted to turn and fling open the door, then run after the retreating limo.

To beg Mr. Grant not to do this.

But he wouldn’t listen. He had sold her because he didn’t want her any more.

She glanced at Mr. King and the kindness in his deep blue eyes almost made her cry.

“I know this is unexpected and you’re feeling unsettled and probably abandoned.”

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. But she blinked them back.

“I understand, and I’ll do everything I can to make the transition for you as easy as possible.” He smiled warmly. “I want to make you happy, Sylvia.”

“But I’m supposed to make you happy,” she said, feeling as if her world was crashing around her.

“You know it goes both ways. You serve me, but in doing so, satisfy that need inside yourself to be dominated.”

He pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her up the stairs.

“I’ll have your things packed and brought over, but for now you have everything you need here.”

“But my apartment… my life…”

“Is here now. With me. You belong to me.”

She knew that she could protest. That he couldn’t legally make her stay. But she didn’t. She didn’t have the energy. Staying with him would be easier. And deep down inside she knew she wanted to be owned.

By Mr. Grant.


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TOS 3&4 - Quote Card - 1- Available Feb 2


* You can purchase the boxed set of The Office Slave Books 3 and 4 for the same price as each individual story here:*




The Office Slave BOOK 5 - cover


Title: Please, Master (The Office Slave # 5) – available for pre-order now, and releasing March 1st!

Author: Opal Carew

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance (Short Story)


Book Blurb:

Can she find happiness in the arms of a man she doesn’t love?

Feeling lost and abandoned by the man she loves, Sylvia tries to bond with her new Master, Mr. King. Sylvia will do anything to please him as he dominates her with a strong hand—commanding her, disciplining her, even sharing her with his business partners—just like Mr. Grant did. Mr. King fulfils her every fantasy. But unlike Mr. Grant, he cherishes her, and shows her the love she craves. She truly wishes she could give him what he wants. Her love. But she knows in her heart, she will never stop loving Mr. Grant. Can she find happiness in the arms of a man she doesn’t love?


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The Office Slave Book 5 and 6 Boxed Set - cover


The Office Slave #5 and #6 Boxed set (releasing March 15th):


A Devilishly Good Series ~ Princess of Hell by @EveLanglais #PNR #romance #bookpromo



Title: Lucifer’s Daughter (Princess of Hell Book 1)

Author: Eve Langlais

Genre: Paranormal Romance (Demons and Devils)


Book Blurb:

It drives my dad nuts I’m such a goody two shoes, but the fact that I’m a virgin makes smoke pour from his ears. See, I’m determined to save myself for love, but daddy dear, more commonly known as Lucifer, just wants me to stop being an embarrassment. Would it kill you to sin a little?

Maybe he’ll get his wish because I met an intriguing hunk last night in my bar. Could he be the one? He certainly melts my panties like marshmallows over the coals of Hell, but do I dare trust him? My last boyfriend thought he’d gain infamy by killing me. He’s infamous all right. Dad had him mounted on a wall, his version of modern art titled, ‘Touch my baby girl and die’. Cute in a twisted way.

My love life isn’t the only thing I’ve got to worry about. There’s someone threatening the denizens of Hell, and while my daddy says to not worry my pretty little head about it, I an involved because whoever is behind the attacks keeps coming after me.

Bring it. I’m not afraid. Being a princess of Hell means that sometimes I have to grab a demon by the horns and slap it around. It’s what keeps my ass looking great.

Nothing in my life is ever simple, and I blame that on my dad, Lucifer. Assassination attempts, hellhounds, and a rebellion in Hell? A piece of cake compared to the turmoil in my heart. No one ever told me love would be the toughest battle of all.


Exclusive Excerpt:

Despite my attempt to mollify him, my dad still sat on the couch, looking as if I’d graduated with honors all over again. Good thing none of his minions were around to see. It was probably some kind of sin that a part of me was glad to know that, around me, Daddy didn’t feel as if he had to put on an act. I mean, it had to be hard, being evil all the time. Even bad guys needed a break–and someone to love them.

“Dad, I know what will cheer you up. Why don’t you go back to Hell and torture a few of the demons who are bad-mouthing you and show them you’re still boss? Start a few eternal fires, make a grand speech about everyone bowing to the king of Hades or facing the flames of perdition.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me,” he said, his tone sulky. Although I could see my words had perked him up a bit.

“Yes and no. I have to open the bar in, like, twenty minutes; so, yes, I am trying to get you to leave, but,” I said, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight, “I love you, and I don’t like to see you like this.”

“I don’t know why, but I’m attached to you, too. Probably some kind of mental defect,” Satan said grumpily as he hugged me back. Despite his conviction that affection meant some kind of disease, I cherished moments like these; they tended to be few and far between. “Try to be bad,” were his last words before popping out of sight.

The smell of brimstone—the predominant perfume of Hell, and my dad’s calling card—hung in the air, the hard-to-wash miasma clinging to my sweater. Great, now I needed to change again. I was on this plane incognito. As in, trying to live a somewhat normal life.

Hurrying, because I was now definitely running late, I changed my yellow crew-neck T-shirt to a tight, pink, scoop-necked one. I tucked it into my skin-tight white jeans, and then I yanked on my pink ankle boots with furry cuffs because everyone knew, no matter how fabulous the clothes, it was all about the footwear. I grabbed my keys and white lambs-wool jacket and hightailed it out the door.

As soon as I exited the building, the wind caught at my hair. Stupid me, I’d left the almost waist-length locks loose. The long, silken strands plastered themselves across my face and restricted my view. Through the hairy skein, I could see only in patches.

With no time to go back and tie it up, I squinted as best as I could and cursed–some of it pretty colorful, considering the people I knew–and trudged off to work.

However, the gods were conspiring against me. And by gods, I specifically meant Loki, that Norse deity of mischief. Turn the god of tricks down for a date, and ever since, gusts of wind arose out of nowhere plastering my hair to my face and brick walls suddenly appeared.

And I walked face first into it.



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Author Biography:

~ New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

Hello, my name is Eve and I am a Canadian author who loves to write hot romance, usually with hot shifters, cyborgs or aliens. I should warn you that I possess a twisted imagination and a sarcastic sense of humor something I like to let loose in my writing.

I love to write, and while I don’t always know what my mind is going to come up with next, I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a happily ever after.

Thanks so much for coming by and checking me out. If you’d like to know more, read some excerpts or find out what’s coming next, then please visit me at

Or sign up for my new release email list at

Happy reading!
Eve Langlais


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Snowballs in Hell - Book 2


Title: Snowballs in Hell (Princess of Hell Book 2)

Author: Eve Langlais

Genre: Paranormal Romance (Demon/Devil)


Book Blurb:

Warning: The following is a very adult urban fantasy containing sexual scenes, violence and twisted situations that some people might find offensive. Reader discretion is advised. 


Hi, I’m Muriel, misbegotten daughter of Satan, and once again, my life is in turmoil. The cowled one who tortured me left a curse on my mind, one that makes me afraid. Completely unacceptable, but in order to remove it, I have to do something even worse—betray my beloved by bringing another man into our bed.
As if having to participate in a threesome isn’t traumatizing enough, Hell has frozen over, and as much as I think Hades looks pretty in a blanket of white, the repercussions are severe. It’s a good thing this princess of Hell has two lovers determined to charge my magic in pleasurable ways.
I’ll admit it’s not easy having nympho magic, but I’m prepared to suck it up—and swallow—for the sake of saving the world.

Time to grab my sword and feed it some fresh demonic blood. The fate of not just Hell, but the world, depends on me.


Exclusive Excerpt * Spoiler Alert- may have spoilers for the previous book(s) in them, in terms of the characters that are, or are not, present *:

Exhausted, but a lot richer—the bar had sold an obscene amount of booze—I began my walk home. This was the first time since I’d met Auric that I didn’t have company, and to my annoyance, I missed it.

Auric usually held my hand when we walked home, or on lucky nights, we flew. He might be a fallen angel, but due to a deal he’d brokered with my dad—where Auric actually kept his soul—he gained a pair of shadow wings. I loved it when he held me and swooped through the night like a dark knight preparing to debauch me.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost walked right into the trap, but luckily for me, the stench of demon acted like smelling salts. I snapped to attention. Scanning the darkness around me, the street lamps on this section of the sidewalk dead—or intentionally broken—I listened for a sound to tell me in which direction they would be coming.

I pulled my silver enchanted blades from my thigh holsters—never leave home unless armed—and palmed them. A quick chant invoked the fire within them, a magic bought from dragons and a magic so strong I couldn’t negate it.

A whisper of sound behind me made me spin, my foot arcing out and connecting with something that grunted. As my opponent staggered, I popped into a ready position. Not really necessary, given I faced only a single demon. Piece of cake. Mmm…I wondered if we had any left in the fridge.

My lack of attention didn’t mean I was oblivious to what was happening around me but at the same time, give me some credit. One bile-green demon was barely enough to make me break a sweat.

“Come on, ugly, let’s get this over with. There’s a chocolate cake with whipped cream icing calling my name at home.”

The demon didn’t seem in a hurry. He leered at me, pointed teeth gleaming, and whistled through their gaps.


It didn’t need to hear the click of claws, or the whispery sound of leather wings dragging against buildings, to know my demon opponent wasn’t alone. From the darkness, several demons emerged. All smiling. All eyeballing me like a fine piece of steak.

So much for going home and enjoying my cake. This would totally mean I’d need a shower because only savages and Amazons ate with the blood and guts of their enemy coating them.

What? Did I not show a proper concern for the enemy force facing me? Um, they’d sent only a half-dozen. I was the princess of Hell. They should have sent more.

Confidence didn’t mean I didn’t wish for my Hell blade. With my mighty sword, I would have sliced through their ranks like a knife through butter. Sadly, it didn’t go well with most of my outfits, so I’d just packed my knives.

Hand-to-hand combat provided a great workout, but it wreaked havoc on my cleaning bill.

Or if I get dirty enough, I could always go shopping.


I’d stolen Daddy’s credit card again, to his delight, which meant I could go shopping until it screamed.


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Hells Revenge - Book 3

Title: Hell’s Revenge (Princess of Hell Book 3)

Author: Eve Langlais

Genre: Paranormal Romance (Demon/Devil)


Book Blurb:

I am literally going to kill my mother.

To say I have mommy issues is putting it mildly. The woman who abandoned me has a lot of nerve to just saunter back into my life without warning and drop a bombshell of atomic proportions. I tried to kill her as a way of resolving my inner Freudian issues, but my damned boyfriends stopped me. Spoilsports.

As if wanting to strangle my birth mother isn’t enough, once again, someone is messing with my life and a new player steps in to save me. Did I mention my dark knight is tall, gorgeous, and fanged? Just don’t tell my lovers because apparently they’re not willing to share me with the undead.

The final showdown with the mysterious figure—also known as the major pain in my ass—fast approaches. I don’t care how powerful they are. They screwed up big time when they took something precious of mine. It’s never a good idea to piss off this princess of Hell because revenge is my middle name.

Thrust into the final showdown, thankfully, I’ve got more than my fallen angel and kitty at my side. Dark, Fanged, and Delicious is determined to join my group. I’m facing my biggest challenge yet, but don’t worry, with the help of my family and lovers, Hell will have its revenge.


Exclusive Excerpt * Spoiler Alert- may have spoilers for the previous book(s) in them, in terms of the characters that are, or are not, present *:

My father currently beamed like an escaped mental patient. Kind of freaky for the uninitiated, but as his daughter, I considered it endearing.

The reason for his joy? I’d just announced David was moving in with Auric and me.

“I can’t believe it, my daughter living in sin with not one man but two. You do a father proud,” he said, toasting the occasion. I swear he almost wiped a tear.

Auric rolled his eyes, familiar with my father’s antics, but poor David appeared taken aback. My father’s sense of humor took some getting used to.

Life since we’d vanquished the hooded one had returned to normal, or as normal as it could get for a princess of Hell. I’d avoided, in my usual head-in-the-sand fashion, some of the things Gabriel had told me when I captured him. My cowled nemesis, for the curious, was a fallen angel who’d delighted in torturing me. When I finally got him on his knees, subservient to the point of my sword, he began to spout all kinds of crap. I’d decapitated the freaky bastard rather than listen to his monologue. Like hello, I’d seen enough movies to know letting the enemy talk gave them time to wait for reinforcements. Besides, I had more important things that required my attention such as an aroused libido that wasn’t in the mood to exercise patience.

Apart from Gabriel, who I refused to discuss, Auric kept trying to talk to me about my absent mother. As if I wanted to think about the bitch who’d abandoned me with a curse on my mind—not! Sticking my fingers in my ears and humming soon brought those attempted conversations to a halt. Poor Auric, I was really making him practice his sighs of impatience a lot lately.

In a nutshell, I refused to dwell on the crap I’d gone through lately, and in an attempt for a life of normalcy, I’d arranged for my dad to come for a nice family dinner—cooked by Auric, of course. Anything less would have seen me punished for cruelty.

The pasta primavera came out divine, the chicken succulent, the conversation ribald; in other words, dinner appeared a complete success.

It figured my aunt Fate would fuck with it. A knock sounded at the door, and I’d like to say I heard haunting music, that my eyes rolled back and I experienced an ominous premonition. Alas, my precognitive skills were limited to the knot that formed in my stomach. I knew from a lifetime of experience that if things were going well something would come along to screw with me, which meant whoever stood on the other side of that steel-reinforced barrier was about to fuck up the nice new life I’d settled into.

“Don’t answer,” I said in a childish attempt to avoid whatever calamity waited for me in the hallway.

Apparently, my worry was contagious because Auric grabbed his holy sword before he headed to the door when a second knock sounded. Auric twisted the knob and swung the door open, keeping care to ensure his bulky body remained in front of the doorway, blocking direct access inside. It also meant I couldn’t see who’d come calling.

I drummed my fingers on the table as David stood and moved to stand in front of me protectively. My men, throwbacks to a time of chivalry when women were fainting damsels. Cute and yet so unnecessary. They knew by now, even if they refused to acknowledge it, I could take care of myself.


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Vacation Hell - Book 4


Title: Vacation Hell (Princess of Hell Book 4) – NEW RELEASE! Out Feb. 4th,2016

Author: Eve Langlais

Genre: Paranormal Romance (Demon/Devil)


Book Blurb:

Some people collect seashells at the beach. Muriel picks up another man. A merman…

Juggling a happily ever after is harder than it looks, especially when it involves a fallen angel who is my soul mate, a hunky cat shifter who stole my heart, and a darkly delicious vampire who is like that piece of forbidden chocolate you just can’t resist.

Add in a precocious little girl, who is totally spoiled rotten–not surprising given Nana and Poppa were Mother Nature and the Devil–and my life was a never-ending series of dramas, foot stomping, yelling, and tears. By me.

I never knew being a grownup could be so much damned work, which is why I decided we needed a vacation. But of course, as Lucifer’s daughter, that didn’t turn out as expected. Now I’ve got to figure out if my bathtub is big enough for a hunky merman–and is there room in my heart for one more?


Exclusive Excerpt * Spoiler Alert- may have spoilers for the previous book(s) in them, in terms of the characters that are, or are not, present *:

The biggest eyes, graced with thick lashes, set in a face highlighted by chubby cheeks and framed by golden hair pinned in pigtails peeked at me. “Hi, Mommy. Do you like my drawing?”

Must. Resist. The cuteness.


I held firm. No wavering. “Baby girl, you cannot write on the walls.”


A word I truly had begun to hate. “Because I just had them painted.”

“But they’re boring. I made them pretty.” She blinked her ridiculously thick and natural eyelashes at me to no avail. I had been raised in the pit. Her guileless expression did not fool me.

“The walls are supposed to be boring, and marker free.” After the chaos of Hell, and even everyday life, I enjoyed a home with a simple color palette. Lots of whites and grays, as well as soft blues. No reds or browns or that weird in-between umber here.

“Can I draw on the ceiling then? Poppa’s palace has pictures on his.”

Poppa’s palace had many things etched into his ceiling, some of them quite inappropriate for little girls’ eyes—and even adult ones, too.

“No.” I didn’t ask or leave any wiggle room. As boss in this relationship, I called the shots.


Argh, there was that damned word again. Time to foil her with logic. “Because you’re supposed to write on paper.”

“But Poppa says only fools and goody-two-shoes do what they’re supposed to. The”—she wrinkled her snub nose adorably—“intrepid forge their own rules.” She beamed, and I saw the slyness in her expression.

I blinked. How could I argue when I’d been raised on the same rule? That was what happened when you had the devil for your daughter’s grandfather. He filled her head with the same nonsense as he’d filled mine. And I turned out great, but still, even as a child, I learned that parents must be obeyed—or I lost special privileges like chocolate pudding for dessert and I got medical journals for my birthday instead of pretty shiny things.

Lucinda, the ruby-red apple of my eye, had not yet grasped the knowledge that I was in charge. Never mind the fact I still didn’t listen to my father. I would do better than him. I would set rules and boundaries and expect them to be obeyed.

“I will not have you turn our home into a graffiti studio. No more drawing on anything but paper. Is that understood?” I threw in a proper mommy glare for good measure.

Her lips turned down. Trembled. “Don’t be mad, Mommy. I love you.” She then unleashed her weapon of parental destruction. The dimple. It was deep, adorable, and matched with twinkling eyes.

But the thing with being related to the devil was you recognized manipulation when it happened. Unlike Lucinda’s fathers, I didn’t fall for it. “Go to your room.” Head tilted imperially, I pointed to the door.

Lip jutting in a powerful sulk, Lucinda rose to her feet. My baby girl was growing so fast. Only a few months old, and yet already she looked like a child much older, four or five at least, with a vocabulary to put even most adults to shame. Then again, she hadn’t had a classic entrance to the world or upbringing.


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Biological Response Team series @julieroweauthor is a Must-Read #romanticsuspense



Title: Deadly Strain

Author: Julie Rowe

Genre: Military Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Major Grace Samuels, a trauma surgeon deployed to Afghanistan, spends her life helping her fellow soldiers overcome disease and combat injuries. But her own wounds are harder to heal. Wracked with guilt over the death of a fellow soldier, she finds comfort in her only friend and appointed bodyguard, weapons sergeant Jacob “Sharp” Foster.

Sharp feels more for Grace than a soldier should, more than he wants to admit. When the team discovers a new, quick-to-kill strain of anthrax, he tries to focus on the mission to find its source. He knows he can help Grace defeat her demons, but first they must defeat the deadly outbreak.

Sharp is Grace’s most loyal ally, but in close quarters, he starts to feel like more. She can’t watch someone else she cares about die—but she might not have a choice. The closer they get to finding the source of the strain, the closer it gets to finding them.



The battle line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man. —Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn


Chapter One


“I’m so dead.” Dr. Grace Samuels stared at the chessboard. There was no hope. None. Not a single move left open to her.

Except for one.

She sighed, shook her head at the patience on her opponent’s face. “I concede.”

“Want to know where you went wrong?” he asked as he cleared the board. He set the pieces up again. Those big hands of his could bandage a wounded soldier, field strip a 9 mm and box her into checkmate with equal skill.

“I sat down in this chair,” she answered with a straight face. The mess hall was busy with soldiers, American and Afghan alike, either beginning their day or ending their night.

“No,” he said. “You played the board.”

Grace thought about it for a second, but it still didn’t make any sense. Then again, it was 0600 and she’d only been up for twenty minutes. “Huh?”

Special Forces Weapons Sergeant Jacob “Sharp” Foster looked at her earnestly. “You played the board,” he repeated. “You should have been playing the man.”

He winked and she had to fight not to roll her eyes. When she first met him she’d thought his flirting was for real, and had been worried she’d have to shut him down. She didn’t want to, because he was hilarious, but the impropriety couldn’t be ignored. Then, she discovered when he wasn’t on the job, he had a wicked sense of humor, and everyone was a target.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to study you.” She leaned forward and made a show of giving him a thorough once-over.

He grinned and spread his hands wide. “By all means, study me.”

Sharp was a big man, about six-two, and she’d guess he weighed about two hundred pounds. He flexed his biceps and waggled his eyebrows in response to her joke. Though he had brown hair, with a mustache and beard to match, he had the lightest blue eyes she’d ever seen—like looking into glacial ice.

Right now, those eyes were challenging her. She just wasn’t sure if it was regarding the game or something she didn’t want to talk about. At all.

Unfortunately, Sharp wasn’t going to leave it alone. The chess game should have warned her. They usually played poker.

She watched him reset the chessboard while, for the first time in a week, letting her mind go back to the moment she realized she was in trouble. On her way to her quarters late at night. They’d arrived at Forward Operating Base Bostick the week before, and she’d been introduced to the base commander, Colonel Marshall. He’d barely spoken to her. So why was he waiting for her outside her quarters with clenched fists and a face so blank she knew he was in the grip of a powerful emotion?

The colonel wasn’t known for any kind of emotion.

She stopped several feet away. “What are you doing here at this hour, sir?”

One corner of his upper lip lifted in a sneer and he snarled, “I wanted a private conversation.”

His words triggered every internal red flag she had. “I don’t understand.”

Marshall’s response was two words. One name. “Joseph Cranston.”

A name she wished she could forget. “You…knew him?”

Scorn turned his words into weapons. “He was my son.”

Oh God.


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Title: Lethal Game

Author: Julie Rowe

Genre: Military Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

As the nation’s youngest virologist and hematologist, Captain Sophia Perry has always been one step ahead of her peers. But there’s one thing she can’t beat—cancer. She wants to make a difference in the time she has left, so when she’s sent to investigate a breakout at a Syrian refugee camp, she goes, saying nothing of her diagnosis. But saving the masses isn’t easy when the man tasked to protect her is so irresistible.

Communications Sergeant Connor Button is back on active duty after a deadly explosion, but he doesn’t feel whole again until he meets Sophia. Assigned to keep her safe, he’s prepared to die for her, but for the first time in months he truly wants to live—if only she wasn’t so determined to put them both in danger.

With a secret to keep and nothing to lose, Sophia is determined to find the source of the breakout at any cost. Violent attacks on the camp convince her that someone wants her to pay dearly. But as Sophia’s health deteriorates, Connor must find a way to help her defeat her enemies before her body defeats her.



Security is mostly a superstition ~ Helen Keller


Chapter One


It had taken him three airplanes and over twenty-six hours to travel more than seven thousand miles, and now he was going to have to kill someone.

Ten feet from his room in the Navy hotel at the American Naval base in Bahrain.

All Special Forces Communications Sergeant Connor Button wanted was to find a bed and crash for a few hours.

What he did not need was witnessing some idiot striking out with a hot blonde and not taking it well.

She’d just removed his hand from her waist.

The man put it on her shoulder and tried to bring her closer. “Aw, come on, sweetheart.”

She slid away, her voice clear across the short distance. “No.”

Okay, dude, time to retreat. Only, the guy didn’t. He grabbed her by the back of the neck, hard enough to make her gasp in pain, and leaned down, his mouth aimed for hers.

She slapped the moron, but he didn’t get that hint either, just grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back.

Con had to make himself stand still for a second. One second, so he could throttle back the instinct to beat the stupid fuck to death.

Fine. His jaw flexed. He wouldn’t kill the asshole, but he could hurt him real bad.

Con dropped his duffel on the floor and stomped toward the woman and the moron whose arm he was about to break.

Into several pieces.

Small ones.

The stomping got the moron’s attention. He glanced up, saw Con coming and his eyes went wide. He let go of the woman so fast she wobbled off balance and fell to the floor. Con stopped to help her while the moron ran like a track star down the hall and around a corner.

Good call, asshole.

Con bent down and offered his hand to the woman. “Are you okay?”

Her head jerked up and she stared at him with eyes that didn’t miss a thing. She scooted away, leaving his hand hanging in the air, then stood. Her shoulders went back and her chin rose.

He almost smiled. She was so not interested in another man getting all up in her business. He’d make sure she was all right, then he’d back off.

“Ma’am, did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, retreating a step.

Blue-green eyes stood out in a face framed by white-blond hair hanging in a sheet down to the middle of her back. She was also stacked, though she wasn’t showing it off. She was following military clothing requirements, wearing long pants and a collared shirt one size too big, buttoned up to her neck. An asshole had just tried to sexually assault her, but Con would bet a year’s pay that had he not come along, the moron would have had his hands full with a pissed-off female trying to smash his balls into paste.

He glanced down.

Her mouth was pressed into a thin angry line, but her hands were shaking.

For the first time in months something other than anger or despair slammed into him.

He knew just how she felt. Hyped up on adrenaline and looking for a target.

It surprised him so much he opened his mouth to make some inane comment or other to show her he was no threat, but she raised a hand to stop him.

She spoke a quick, firm “Thank you.” And then she was gone, inside the room closest to her. The click of the lock being engaged echoed down the hall.


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Viral Justice



Title: Viral Justice

Author: Julie Rowe

Genre: Military Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

As a general’s daughter, Alicia Stone has fought twice as hard for everything she’s earned in the military. A Special Forces consultant with black belts in three martial arts, she’s as strong as her surname implies. No one dares call her Alicia—no one but Colonel Robert Maxmillian, head of the Biological Response Team.

With Alicia at his side, Max must lead the team into northern Iraq to investigate a virus—or is it a weapon?—killing the area’s population. Charged with guarding his body, she can’t help wanting his hands on her body. Max would be the perfect fling. But he demands more.

The heat builds between them, but danger quickly follows. As the two get closer to the source of the virus, they’ll have to risk their future to outsmart a scientist with nothing to lose.



There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them. ~ Andre Gide


Chapter One


“They’re not going to agree with your plan, Colonel,” Alicia muttered as she stared at the group of military doctors standing several feet away.

Colonel Robert Maximillian, head of the US Army Biological Response Team bent closer to the tiny, curvy Sergeant Alicia Stone and had to clear his throat before asking, “What makes you say that?”

“Look at their body language,” she continued in that almost subvocal whisper. “They’ve closed ranks and you’re on the outside.”

He had to consciously hold himself still as he studied the group of men. Military doctors from five different countries. They were positioned in a tight circle, two with their backs to him, talking quietly. All of them stood at just a hair under attention. The faces he could see were set, eyes serious. Understandable. These were dangerous times, and their mutual enemy could be anyone, even someone in your own army.

Stone shifted and her shoulder brushed his arm.

His attraction to the sergeant was irrational and impossible. He wasn’t a fan of either.

“They’re having a simple conversation, Sergeant, nothing more.”

“I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of conversation,” Stone said, her voice filled with enough acid to melt steel. “If they wanted to include you, they’d have left a space for you to step into, but they didn’t. They’ve already decided and they know you’re not going to like their decision.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He knew every man in the group and had earned their respect. “They’re professionals and they know I have new information for them.”

“It isn’t going to matter. Their minds are made up.” Stone’s voice was so sharp he stopped to really look at her.

“What happened?” he asked her.

“It’s not what happened, but what’s not going to happen that’s the problem, sir.”

“No.” He waved away the reference to the meeting they were about to attend. “I mean, with you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this angry before.”

“Me, angry?” she said with wide eyes that did nothing to hide the displeasure on the rest of her face. “I’m grateful, sir, to be the only female combat trainer for the Special Forces.” Her tone made it clear she was anything but grateful.

“Did you break another officer’s arm?” Four months ago, an asshole who’d thought he was some kind of martial arts expert had tried to intimidate Stone during a training session. She’d put him on the mats twice before he got angry and attacked for real, thinking she couldn’t handle an actual fight. She’d not only broken his arm, but two fingers of the opposite hand, as well.

The incident hadn’t ended there. The officer had accused her of assault, but with so many witnesses the charges against Stone had been thrown out, and he’d been charged with assault. Since then, however, at least two other officers had lodged formal complaints against her.

The old boys’ club, closing ranks.

“Nothing that would show up on an X-ray.” Her voice sounded bland. Something had gone very wrong.

If someone hurt her, he was going to find out and make their life miserable. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She jerked, as if the question startled her. “Don’t argue with me if I tell you to do something.”

“Arguing with one’s bodyguard would be stupid. I try not to be an idiot more than twice a day. I reached my quota an hour ago.”

Buy Links:

Carina Press:






Julie Rowe (2)


Author Biography:

Julie Rowe’s first career as a medical lab technologist in Canada took her to the North West Territories and northern Alberta, where she still resides. She loves to include medical details in her romance novels, but admits she’ll never be able to write about all her medical experiences because, “Fiction has to be believable”. Julie writes contemporary and historical medical romance, fun romantic suspense and military romance. Her most recent titles are the MEN OF ACTION boxed set and VIRAL JUSTICE book #3 of the Biological Response Team series. You can find her at , on Twitter @julieroweauthor or at her Facebook page:


Social Media Links:


Twitter: @julieroweauthor


Beachcomber Investigations #RomanticSuspense Series by @StephanieQueen #MFRWAuthor #books

 Stephanie Queen’s Beachcomber Investigations Series

TheBeachcombers-PrequelCover 1000x1500 


Title:  The Beachcombers

Author:  Stephanie Queen

Genre: Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Prequel – Beachcomber Investigations Series
Ex-special ops legend Dane Blaise takes on a new partner for a kidnapping case, gorgeous Scotland Yard detective Shana George. Mistake? Maybe. The fireworks between them could get them killed before they have a chance to find the missing heiress–and whoever is behind the kidnapping.

Dane has been visiting his beach shack on Martha’s Vineyard to rest is weary body and soul for too many years and he’s particularly in need of a rest this summer. But his old special ops commander, now governor of Massachusetts, calls on him to save a missing heiress and family friend. She was scheduled to compete in a surfing competition and now she’s gone.

The governor also recruited an partner for Dane, perfect for going undercover as a surfer, the bikini bombshell and Scotland Yard detective Shana. Dane is skeptical until he realizes she has skills.

But as the case unfolds and the stakes ratchet up once they realize they’re dealing with human trafficers specializing in beautiful women, Dane is in trouble. He is far too attracted to everything about his partner–and far too distracted for their well being and their survival.

They need to find the heiress and stop the kidnap ring before they let their relationship compromise everything. Or is it too late?


Buy Links:







Author Biography:

USA Today Bestselling Author Stephanie Queen

A romantic at heart and a writer by nature, Stephanie Queen has the enthusiastic soul of a cheerleader. So of course she loves creating stories where the good guys always win. Although she’s lost count of all the jobs she had before she settled on being a Novelist, her favorite was selling cookies as a Keebler Elf. She is a graduate of UConn (go Huskies!) and Harvard U and lives in New Hampshire with her family, her cat, Kitty, and her (real or imagined?) chauffeur, Myren.


Social Media Links:


Twitter:  @StephanieQueen



CoverBeachcomber Investig Oct 2015-1


Title:  Beachcomber Investigations

Author :  Stephanie Queen

Genre: Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Book One
A romantic detective series novel
Ex-special ops legend Dane Blaise is desperate to recruit Shana George away from Scotland Yard to partner with him in his new venture, Beachcomber Investigations. She has impressive skills and if he’s honest, he needs her to keep him grounded. But most of all, Dane wants to keep Shana on the island of Martha’s Vineyard because he can’t get past his insane longing for her.

Shana’s boss David Young forces her to decide on the spot when he assigns an important case to Beachcomber Investigations. She chooses to partner with Dane, going with her gut–or more accurately her heart–rather than her brains. They may be good partners in crime-fighting, but they are all wrong for each other in every other way possible. He’s soulless and lost and likely has more wounds from his past than the bullet and knife scars scorching his body. But she’s crazy. About him.

Their big assignment is to protect Dane’s old special ops buddy, Acer. They need to find whoever paid a sniper to take a shot at Acer–before the sniper takes another shot and doesn’t miss.

Dane and Shana need to be on top of their game to keep Acer alive, and not on top of each other. But each of them is secretly worried whether that’s possible–and worried about what will happen if it’s not.


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Title:  Beachcomber Santa

Author:  Stephanie Queen

Genre:  Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Book 2

a Beachcomber Investigations Novella

Dane finds the perfect excuse to celebrate the holiday season with Shana when Jim the butcher hires Beachcomber Investigations to find the Missing grocery store bell-ringing Santa–Rusty Gates. The local cops may think Rusty took off with the money he collected for the church to give the needy, but his family wants to keep him out of jail. Dane and Shana need to find him–and the money before the church Christmas party in three days.

Meanwhile Dane wants more than a kiss under the mistletoe for Christmas from Shana, but when he realizes she’s homesick for Australia, will he let playing Santa at the church party go to his heart and give Shana her wish?


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Beachcomber Valentine Cover OCT 2015-9


Title:  Beachcomber Valentine

Author:  Stephanie Queen

Genre:  Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Beachcomber Valentine – a Beachcomber Investigations Novella
Ex military special ops legend Dane Blaise and ex Scotland Yard investigator, gorgeous Shana George, team up to find the long lost love of a mystery client.
But of course there’s more to this easy-money case than flirting with the dangers of romance and Cupid to rekindle an old flame.

Once Dane and Shana find out that the “lost love” is involved with an FBI sting–and involved with their best friend, state cop Captain Lynch, their suspicions kick into high gear.

Dane and Shana end up with far more than a dinner date on Valentine’s Day…



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Title:  Beachcomber Baby

Author:  Stephanie Queen

Genre:  Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Beachcomber Investigations series book 3
A romantic detective series

Dark and dangerous Dane and shamelessly sexy Shana team up like oil & water on a mission to save a baby while they wage a personal war of love & hate between them.
Ex-special ops legend Dane Blaise doesn’t like cases involving babies. In his experience, they always end bad. Really bad.

When Father Donahue hands Shana a baby and the mission is to find the baby’s mother, the ex-Scotland Yard detective can’t resist taking the case. Shana convinces Dane to help her, but he’ll only go so far.

Once they discover the priest dragged them into the tip of an iceberg full of trouble with an ex-Russian KGB operative turned-criminal and his comrades involved in a baby farm, things look bad. Really bad.

To keep Dane on the mission, Shana will need to uncover the secret of his terrible past baby case. Can she convince him to put aside his fears to save this baby–and save their partnership too?



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Beachcomber Trouble Book 5 Cover Dec 2015


Title:  Beachcomber Trouble

Author:  Stephanie Queen

Genre:  Romantic Suspense


Book Blurb:

Book 5 in the Beachcomber Investigations series


Out of the blue, ex-special ops legend Dane Blaise receives a CIA coded message for Trouble. It’s a call to action to help an old associate and friend of his—Oscar. He didn’t know that his young and gorgeous partner Shana George, ex-Scotland Yard detective, knew the CIA man too. Even though they both suspected Oscar’s CIA handler was not exactly trustworthy, they answered the call to help their friend.

But Dane had no idea that the trap was set and the trouble was about to get Big and Bad …


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Leave Your Shoes On Series by @CalistaFoxBooks #bookpromo #romance #MFRWAuthor

Leave Your Shoes On is a stand-alone series (you do not have to read them in order). Book 1 released in September 2015 and Book 2 (below) released on December 1st.



Title: What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On, Book 1)

Author: Calista Fox

Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy


Book Blurb:


Lola Vonn isn’t sure exactly when it happened, but sometime between ages seven and twentysomething, her best friend, Alex, got hot. Really hot. He’s hotter than the blazing Arizona sun-and definitely hotter than the nerdy-cute mathlete she grew up with. And, when she needs to crash at his apartment while looking for a place of her own, Alex becomes a temptation she can’t resist. But while unbuttoning Alex’s buttoned-up self is scorchingly fun, wild child Lola fears risking the best friend she’s ever had on a fling.


Alex Reed has wanted Lola since they were teenagers and now that she’s parading around his condo in sexy stilettos and short nighties, he can’t stop the more-than-just-friends fantasies he has every time he looks at his new curvy blonde roommate. Luckily he’s no longer the painfully dorky teenager he once was-and it’s high time he showed Lola that he’s the man for her.


Exclusive Excerpt:

“Geez, Alex. It’s just a nightie.” She set aside her papers and wine. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing.” He disappeared into his room, but came back seconds later, carrying a plush, navy-colored robe with a gold emblem on the chest from a fancy New York hotel where he’d attended this year’s insurance convention. Or maybe it’d been last year. She couldn’t keep track.

Thrusting it at her, he said, “Do me a favor and cover up while you’re here.”

She eyed him curiously. “Alex, women wear less than this on the beach. On TV, even.”

He stared unwaveringly, his eyes locking with hers. As though he didn’t dare look anywhere else but her face.

“Yes, I have breasts,” she announced. “Newsflash! Not.

“Just wear the robe, Lo.”

She took a step closer to him, but didn’t accept the garment he offered. “What is going on?”

“There are reflective surfaces in my condo. I’m sure you can see—on you—that is much more than ‘just a nightie.’”

Her gaze dropped again. Okay, so there was a healthy amount of cleavage on display. Not to mention thigh. Maybe a little ass cheek. Whatever.

She glanced up at Alex—and caught the flash of lust in his eyes. Possibly because there weren’t glasses to deflect the unexpected expression?

Something clicked in her brain.


Oh, no way…

A smile spread slowly over her lips. “Oh, my God.”

He shook his head again. “Don’t make anything out of this.”

Too. Late.

Something had changed… She’d been wrong all along.

Was she imagining this, or…?

Holy cow!

Her body instantly gravitated to his as she took a step toward him, barely realizing it. “Alex—you’re hot for me.”

He groaned. “No, I’m not.”


She’d seen that look before, after all. On other men.

Her gaze roved him from head to toe. He appeared thoroughly disgruntled. In a very sexy way. Completely unkempt. So not his style. His dark hair was unruly, which likely made him crazed, since he was an every-strand-in-its-proper-place kind of guy. He’d rolled up his sleeves and had loosened his tie. Something she’d never known him to do. He didn’t go for the disheveled look, but it totally worked for him. Especially with his current brooding, which made her skin tingle.

What if…?

Her breath hitched.

Maxi had nailed it—Alex had become tall, dark and delicious. He was single and, alas, hetero as far as she knew.

Sure, Lola was unpredictable and impulsive. So very different from him in every conceivable way, yet…opposites attracted, right?

But wait.

What the hell are you thinking?

Her spinning curiosity came to a screeching halt. Alex was so not her idea of a hot hookup.

Well, maybe it could be hot. He had chiseled facial features and broad shoulders. Really nice hands, with long, blunt-tipped fingers and neatly trimmed nails.

And though it seemed that he tried not to devour her with a hungry gaze…he did.

She beamed, rocking back and forth on her bare heels as exhilaration trilled down her spine. “When did this happen?”



Buy Links: 






What Maxi Needs cover


Title: What Maxi Needs (Leave Your Shoes On, Book 2)

Author: Calista Fox

Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy


Book Blurb:

Maxi Shayne needs to be on her toes as the new vice president of operations for Staci Kay Shoes. With a production crisis looming, she can’t afford distractions – but every tall, chiseled, dangerously handsome inch of Ryan Donovan is exactly that. What’s worse, the gorgeous Aussie is a numbers nerd hired to get the company back on track and Maxi is his new boss. Which means no matter how wildly tempted she is, he’s strictly off-limits.

Ryan hadn’t factored blue eyes, long legs, and a sexy smile into his equations for success, but after meeting Maxi, he’s definitely ready to recalculate. Keeping his mind on business isn’t easy though, because whenever she’s near, all he can think about is what else she’s got going on above her six-inch black stilettos. Before he can get the job done, Ryan will have to convince Maxi that the office doesn’t have to be all work and no play . . .


Exclusive Excerpt:

Ryan pushed at the bridge of his glasses to hitch them up his nose a notch. Not dismissing the fact that he was muddying waters by bringing intimacy into their exchange, yet unable to stop himself. Maxi easily ignited his inquisitive nature. Stimulated it beyond all belief, to be exact.

“We’re discussing people, of course.”

“Huh,” she mused with a playful smile. “’Cause you’re making me think in scientific terms here, Doc.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned at the moniker she’d used. “Point being, at the intervals I’m utilizing for this hypothesis, you might end up spending approximately twenty-six hours a week with someone you’re romantically interested in—not married to, living with, or seriously dating, mind you—versus the fifty hours you spend with someone you’re not romantically involved with. Which would conclusively indicate that you are more attuned in a more in-depth capacity at concentrated levels to the person you work with versus the person you have dinner and occasional sexual relations with—correct?”

Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Then flew open. Her mouth worked vigorously like a fish attempting to dislodge a hook stuck in its throat—or maybe she thought she had a rebuttal, but couldn’t quite form the full concept in her head.

Ryan waited patiently as she grappled with her internal ruminations.

“I’m sorry,” she finally repeated, pinning him with an intent look. “I’ve completely forgotten what we were originally discussing.”

“The theory of platonic friendship.” His gaze swept her office, landing on the framed whiteboard mounted to a portion of one wall. He stood. “Let me diagram it out for you—”

“No!” she blurted.

His body jolted at her forcefulness. Jolted in a good way. “No?”

“No.” She set her sandwich aside and got to her feet, gazing deep into his eyes. “No diagramming, extrapolating, analyzing. No low-hanging fruit here, Doc.”

She rounded the desk. Planted her hands on her hips. “Carnal compatibility isn’t about studies and measurements and quantum-fucking-physics. When two people are hot for each other, Ryan, they’re just that—hot for each other!”

Gripping his lapels in her slender fists, she insisted, “It’s sexual chemistry, Einstein. Raw, insane, vibrant, explosive! In its very purest, utterly basic, most fantastic form, it makes you completely irrational and urges you to tear off clothing and give in to every raging desire clawing at you. Clawing at you!”

Ryan’s pulse skyrocketed. Lust flashed through him.

Maxi wasn’t done. “And there is no Gantt chart in the world that can predict it, graph it, keep it on track, or promise that it won’t wreck you to the core of your being. But when it happens? Holy hell! Just let the firestorm burn you through and through!”

She tugged him roughly to her and kissed him deeply, madly, passionately.

Ryan let her. Responded vehemently, in fact, all physical restraint fleeing. In a heartbeat.


Buy Links:






Author Biography:

Calista is a former PR professional, now writing fast-paced, steamy books to set your pulse racing! She is an Amazon bestseller and has won many Reviewer’s and Reader’s Choice Awards, as well as Best Book Awards and other competitions with publication as first prize. Calista is a college graduate and teaches online writing classes. She is also Past President/Advisor of the Phoenix Chapter of Romance Writers of America.


Social Media Links:




The British Agents Series by Award-Winning Author @mkmcclintock #bookpromo #amreading

MKMcClintock_Author Photo


Adventure. Mystery. Romance.


MK McClintock is the award-winning author of historical romance and westerns, including the popular “Montana Gallagher” series and “British Agent” novels. She spins tales of romance, adventure, and mystery set in the 1800s. With her heart deeply rooted in the past and her mind always on adventure, she lives and writes in Montana.
Coming next is AN ANGEL CALLED GALLAGHER, a western holiday adventure and book five in the Montana Gallagher series. Also coming next is “Briley of Crooked Creek: A Western Short Story.”


Awards & Honors

  • 2015 Readers’ Favorite Silver Medal Book Winner for Alaina Claiborne
  • 2015 Readers’ Favorite 5 Star Book for Blackwood Crossing
  • 2015 RONE Award-Nominee for Blackwood Crossing and A Home for Christmas
  • 2015 Crowned Heart for Excellence from InD’Tale Magazine for Blackwood Crossing
  • 2014 RONE Award-Nominee for Alaina Claiborne
  • 2014 Crowned Heart for Excellence from InD’Tale Magazine for The Montana Gallagher Collection

MK is a member of Romance Writers of AmericaWestern Writers of America, and Authors of the Flathead.

Learn more about the author at


Genres: historical romantic westerns, historical romantic mysteries, western short stories


Contact & Connect (blog)


For interviews, review requests, and questions, please email





Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes | Audible


For bookstore and wholesale enquiries, please email


Some titles are currently available on Ingram.


The British Agents

Historical Romantic Mysteries

Alaina Claiborne by MK McClintock

Alaina Claiborne, Book One

Trappers Peak Publishing | 978-0615742502

Released January 8, 2013


Print | Kindle | Amazon UK | Nook | Large Print | BookBub


How far would you go to avenge your family and save the one you love?

Claiborne Manor, England – 1889
In nineteenth-century England, Alaina Claiborne had a loving family, a cherished friend, and idyllic life. Then tragedy strikes and her world is forever changed. Searching for those responsible is her only focus . . . until she meets Tristan.
Tristan Sheffield, a man of many talents, seeks out those who don’t want to be found. His past is filled with secrets and deeds he would rather leave deeply buried. However, when his life unexpectedly entwines with Alaina’s, he soon discovers they share more than a mutual desire to catch a murderer.
On their hunt for a man driven by greed, Tristan and Alaina find that love is the greatest weapon against evil, and they’ll stop at nothing to survive.
Be swept away by the stirring romance and unforgettable adventure of Alaina Claiborne, MK McClintock’s first British Agent novel. If you love romance, adventure, and mystery, then you’ll fall in love with the British Agents in Victorian England.


Setting: Victorian England | Sensuality Rating: PG-13


Alaina Claiborne Excerpt – Chapter 3


British Agent Safe House, Scottish Highlands—1887


Tristan stared at the stains covering his hands. He couldn’t tell where the dirt ended and the blood began. From across the room, he watched as Devon took his turn at the washstand. Charles sat on a stool nearby, his blood-stained shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing his bandaged chest.

Devon Clayton and Charles Blackwood had been with him on every mission since they joined the agency after they had all finished their studies at Oxford. For three years, they worked side by side, mission after mission, with the highest success rate in the agency. The youngest, brightest, and best trained, they were called on by Britain because they succeeded where others had failed. However, they had not expected this.

Tristan had killed men before—it came with the work—but he had always believed those killings had been justified. At the tavern they had done everything possible with their combined knowledge to save the woman and child who had unknowingly fallen victim to their hunt. Their target—the woman’s husband—had used her as a shield. Another man had used the child. They had never fired on a woman or child and had momentarily backed down—a mistake which cost too many lives, including two of their own.

Tristan replayed everything from the moment they had reached the tavern, attempting, in vain, to see any other way for a different outcome. There had been five agents and six men expected to be at the location. Their source had been mistaken or had betrayed them. There were eight men and the woman and child, sitting down to supper. Tristan and his agents did all they could to make the arrests without injury, but the men had refused to go peacefully.

He saw again the woman’s husband throw her into the middle of the ruckus as he attempted to escape out the back door. Charles shot the man. The other, who had used the child as a shield, had held a knife to the boy’s throat. As he tried to make his exit, the knife slipped.

Tristan remembered every man and every move. He had seen two of his agents go down, each taking a culprit with him. One had escaped, but he couldn’t recall how. They might be the best at what they did, but they had made a deadly mistake. Tristan once again studied his partners and friends. Neither would forget what happened either. The woman and child’s screams promised to haunt them all for years to come.

Tristan cleaned his hands, watching the blood darken the water. Some of it left a temporary stain on his hands, but a more permanent one stained his mind.

He nodded to his friends and they all left the room. They were due to return to England, and there were bodies to collect before they left.

 —Alaina Claiborne Excerpt ©MK McClintock


Praise for Alaina Claiborne

“This one is a winner. It broke my heart several times, the poignant moments she describes are so real.”

Deborah from The Bookish Dame Reviews


“Ms. McClintock succeeds in masterfully weaving both genres meticulously together until mystery lovers are sold on romance and romance lovers love the mystery! . . . Alaina and Tristan’s love unfolds in much the same way, starting as friends, then slowly and believably developing into an undying love the reader cheers for.” –InD’Tale Magazine


“With a strong female lead and a nice mix of both action and romance, this novel tops my list.”

-Judge, Writer’s Digest 21st Annual Self-Published Book Awards


“The balance between romance, mystery, and adventure was perfect. Usually one outweighs the other, so I was pleasantly surprised. In addition, the plot had some unexpected twists, which made the story that much more interesting. With memorable characters and an entertaining plot, Alaina Claiborne has it all.” —Readers’ Favorite


The British Agents

Historical Romantic Mysteries

 Blackwood Crossing Cover_MK McClintock

Blackwood Crossing, Book Two

Trappers Peak Publishing | 978-0991330607

Release: June 4, 2014


Print | Kindle | Amazon UK | Nook | Large Print | BookBub


If you had to make a choice, would it be loyalty or love?
Scottish Highlands – January 1892
Torn between loyalty to her family and refusal to marry a laird she despises, Rhona Davidson accepts a dangerous proposal from a man she knows only as Blackwood.
Leaving behind a life of leisure, Charles Blackwood bravely serves his country with honor and the skill of a trained British agent. When his newest case returns him to the wild Highlands of Scotland, he is faced with a choice between killing a man and saving the only woman he has ever loved.
Charles and Rhona join their lives, only to discover that their choices will result in bloodshed, unless they can uncover a truth long buried, deep in the Highland soil.
Author MK McClintock returns with swashbuckling heroes and courageous heroines in Blackwood Crossing, a story about buried secrets and second chances. If you enjoy clean historical romance with a touch of intrigue and adventure, then you’ll love this “absolute thrill ride of a mystery.”


Setting: Victorian England and Scotland | Sensuality Rating: G


Blackwood Crossing Excerpt – From Chapter 3


Davidson Castle, Northwest Highlands, Scotland


Charles listened to the howls of wind beyond the glass window panes and contemplated Rhona’s glances. When she had first set her eyes on him in the study, her gray eyes expressed no emotion beyond the anger directed at them all. Davidson had joined them for supper, but Rhona had remained absent throughout the meal.

Now he lay on a bed in one of many rooms gracing the interior of Davidson Castle. Unable to find solace in sleep, Charles, still clothed, removed himself from the bed and looked around the dark interior of the room. Charles and the others had discussed everything they knew about Davidson and his family, including his wealth, as a possible motive for whatever happened to his son, Wallace.

None of them believed that Wallace Davidson had been kidnapped. That he found himself in dire circumstances because of his older brother’s illicit actions remained to be seen. Using Rhona as a cover did not sit well with Charles, but to refuse the plan would be to give her father a reason to question their true motives.

“Bloody hell!” Charles’s whispered frustration dissipated in the quiet of the room. Resolved that he would find no peace on this night, he slid his feet into boots, lit the lantern Graham left for him earlier in the evening, and halted. The faint knock at his door led him to believe that either Tristan or Devon had been of the same mind to go downstairs. He turned the lantern up and walked quickly to the door. The soft hand reached out and connected with the side of his face.

“Bastard!” Rhona’s whisper wasn’t much of a whisper, and she looked down both halls before pushing past Charles into his room.

“I wondered how long that would take.” Charles leaned into the hall to ensure himself that no one had heard her. He gently closed the door, the resounding click making them both fully aware that neither of them should be there.

“I assume you are not here for the reasons we enjoyed on my last visit.” Rhona closed the distance between them, her palm once again meeting his cheek.

Charles immediately regretted his nastiness. “I deserved that.”

“That and more.” Rhona turned abruptly and walked past the edge of the light’s reach. “I want to know why.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your lovely company, but I do like my head where it is. If your father or anyone else caught us—you want to know why what?” Charles walked toward her. The past two years and his deception created a barrier that stopped him from reaching out for her.

She turned to face him. “Why come back? I’d almost let myself believe I felt nothing for you.”

“I didn’t choose . . .” Charles reached for her, ignored her efforts to tug her arm loose from his grasp, and pulled her out of the shadows. “I came back now for the same reason I left—orders.”

“Everything was an order. Get close to me and make me . . . betray my family. Those were your orders?” She pulled at her arm and his fingers reluctantly loosened their grip.

Charles shook his head. “Nothing between us was an order, and I won’t apologize for what I told you back then.” Charles expected to see tears or regret in Rhona’s eyes, but the grayish-blue orbs revealed nothing.

“I shouldn’t be here. My maid doesn’t sleep soundly and at times wanders the halls.” She hesitated. “We were close enough to . . . I thought you would come back.”

Incredulous, Charles stepped toward her. “I wrote letters, and I returned once I resigned. Your father said you visited a cousin, but I went north to Skye, and they’d not seen you.”

“You came back?”

Charles slowly nodded and traced her smooth cheek with his finger. “Given my line of work, I should have been able to find you, but I contacted your other living relatives. None claimed you’d been there.”

“I wasn’t. I spent six months with a distant cousin on my mother’s side. I was in Caithness, and I never saw your letters.”  Rhona pulled the edges of her shawl close to her body and walked toward the door.

Charles deemed her last letter now irrelevant, certain it was not she who told him to stay away. “Why did you never to return to England?”

With one hand on the door handle, Rhona slowly turned around. “How do you know I didn’t?” Her hand slipped from the handle. “You watched for me?”

Charles remained silent.

Rhona closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “There was nothing for me there. When you saved me that day on the road, did you know who I was before you came north?”

“No, it wasn’t until I saw you again here. When I learned you were Davidson’s daughter, I tried to forget you, set you from my thoughts, but nothing I did worked. It was never my intention to cause you pain.”

“And yet, you did, but I made my choices, too.” Rhona steadied her eyes on his. “My father hates your people with such passion. He would not have told either of us the truth. If I had known you came back . . .” Rhona’s hand reached once more for the door.

“He hates the British, but you had an English tutor.”

“That was my mother’s doing.” She pressed down on the handle, but Charles stilled her movements.

“Did you ask for the marriage?”

Rhona attempted to push Charles away. When she failed, she turned angry eyes on him. “It does not matter because the deed is done.”

“When was it decided? Not when we were—”

She shifted and leaned back to look into his eyes. “No. There’s never been anyone else.”

“Then when?”

“A few days ago. It’s not uncommon.”

Charles could have left it alone, asked her if she wanted to marry Crawford, but he let seconds pass. Rhona leaned toward him briefly, and Charles wondered if she might stay. He prayed she would. She smelled of heather and lavender, and the fragrant scents sparked memories of a night years ago when he held her in his arms as they lay in a blanket of heather near the woods.

“I’m sorry.” Her whispered words barely reached his ears before she quietly exited the room.


—Blackwood Crossing Excerpt ©MK McClintock



“Ms. McClintock weaves a thick tapestry of mystery and romance in her historical setting . . . Multiple twists and unexpected alliances hook the reader into her complex tale . . . Bravo Ms. McClintock!” —InD’Tale Magazine


“In Blackwood Crossing, the second volume of the British Agent Novels, the reader will find themselves on an absolute thrill ride of a mystery, a ride they won’t want to get off! Author MK McClintock has done a fabulous job in writing a fantastic romance, mystery, and piece of historical fiction, all in one, certainly no easy feat. ”

Readers’ Favorite


“For avid readers of historical romance, you will not be disappointed. The book has all the elements you love – suspense, mystery, murder, intrigue, adventure, high-speed chase, and romance all wrapped up in the everyday lives of 19th century aristocracy in England and Scotland.”

—Donna McBroom Theriot, reviewer at

The British Agents

Historical Romantic Mysteries

Clayton's Honor by MK McClintock

Clayton’s Honor, Book Three

Trappers Peak Publishing | 978-0991330652

Released April 29, 2015


Print | Kindle | Amazon UK | Nook | Large Print | BookBub


Would you give up duty for the sake of your honor?

County Wexford, Ireland – 1892
On the windswept shorts of Ireland, Anne Doyle lost her father to a foolish war and her mother to madness. Left with debt and an ancient family home, she struggles to keep the rest of her family together even as an enemy attempts to take them away. After witnessing a brutal murder, Anne must enlist aid from the only family she has left if she is to save those she loves.

Devon Clayton had no intentions of leaving behind his life of adventure and danger, but when he is charged with protecting a witness and her family, he must choose between duty to the country he serves and a woman who tests his honor and willingness to change.
Together they will discover that nothing is what it seems and that without honor, love and life are for nothing.

Clayton’s Honor is the third book in MK McClintock’s British Agent series. If you love clean historical romance with a dash of mystery, then you’ll enjoy this captivating adventure set in the rolling hills and crumbling castles of Ireland.


Setting: Victorian England and Ireland | Sensuality Rating: PG


Clayton’s Honor Excerpt – From Chapter 1


County Wexford, Ireland—February 4, 1892


Could they hear her? If she moved deeper into the shadows, could she sneak away? If she loosened the grip on her lungs and took the deep breath she desperately needed, would they find her? The heady stench of copper filled the air of the great hall, the dank stone walls doing little to block the scent of death. The carpets beneath her slippered feet masked her first step. Back one, and then two. She ducked behind a heavy tapestry, one of the few left in the old castle.

Masked under a cloak of clouds and desperation, she escaped out the servants’ entrance, confident that the cook and single housemaid would not see her. Wet slush and rain combined to make her retreat difficult. She could not risk discovery by hailing someone and beseeching them for a ride. Her own two feet must carry her the miles to Brannon Cottage.

The noise of the carriage wheels competed with that of the storm, but she did not mistake the sound of the small rocks as they ground and rolled over one another. She hurried behind a nearby copse of blackthorn and waited. Lights from the carriage lanterns broke through the darkness as the conveyance approached. The man in the driver’s seat sang “She Is Far from the Land faintly heard through the wind. After he passed, Anne set one foot in front of the other and paused. Her fear overpowered her desire for warmth. She could do this. It was only four miles.

One worn slipper almost fell from her foot when she stepped in a small slush of wet snow. Colder now, she pressed forward. One mile. Two miles. Three. She must reach him before they realized she was gone. Anne flailed and her body lurched to the ground. Her arm scraped over a sharp stone that sliced through her cloak. The faint clatter of bottles in her satchel managed to reach her ears over the harsh howl of the winds.

Anne rose to all fours and then stopped and knelt on the sodden road, choking back a trail of tears as they coursed down her already wet skin. She tucked soaked locks of her long hair beneath her wet bonnet. Drawing on pure need, Anne pushed up from the ground and continued down the dirt road. She did not know the Brannons well. They visited Ireland once or twice a year, and yet the only person on this earth she could hope to trust was currently on holiday and using the Brannons’ cottage. Ten years had passed since she’d last seen him.

The tidy two-story stone structure appeared as though from the fog. Soft, white flakes fell in time with her heavy breaths but lasted only the time it took for her to reach the front door.

With knuckles cold and weak, Anne managed to knock. The sound of fist against wood was pathetic even to her. She knocked louder and waited. She heard someone remove the door latch and a tall, familiar man opened the portal. “Anne, whatever are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, Charles. You sent word you’d be here, and I know we were to meet tomorrow.”

A beautiful woman with soft red curls stepped into the front room, still clad in her robe. “I heard you open the door. Is everything all right?” The woman looked at Anne.

Charles motioned the woman forward. “This is my cousin, Anne Doyle. Anne, this is my wife, Rhona.”

Rhona reached out and welcomed her. “You’re shivering and cold. Come and sit by the fire.”

Anne wanted to cry all over again. Kindness had been a rare commodity in her life these past few years.

Charles helped her into a chair and covered her with a blanket. “What are you doing out alone on a night like this?”

Anne’s eyes welled with tears. “Something terrible has happened. I need your help.” Anne lifted her leather bag over her head and set it on the floor, revealing the long and bloody tear in her cloak.


—Clayton’s Honor Excerpt ©MK McClintock


Praise for Clayton’s Honor

“Ms. McClintock is a master of making the written language beautiful. Her descriptions of the Irish and English landscape have a lyrical quality; the words jumped off the page like musical notes. It was intriguing how Anne’s life mirrored the rolling hills and crumbling castles in Ireland.”—Tulips (Amazon Reviewer)


“I sat captivated from the beautiful cover to the last page. There’s a mystery, murder, lies, secrets, and of course romance. Anne is my kind of heroine.”—Leah Weller (Amazon Reviewer)


“Clayton’s Honor is a story, very descriptive with a good story line. The book gives you a good visual of the era and what is going on from one moment to the next. I love the mystery, deception and how it all comes together in the end.”  —Joie L. Betterly (Amazon Reviewer)

The British Agent Collection

Includes Alaina Claiborne, Blackwood Crossing, and Clayton’s Honor

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The first three British Agent novels in one volume.

Cambron Press | 978-0996507660 | Historical Romantic Mystery

Released August 14, 2015


Amazon | Amazon UK

Under Cover Knights Series by @LiviaQuinn #ASMSG #IAN1 #MFRWAuthor

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In November all proceeds for Her First Knight go to veterans’ charities. Her First Knight (The Beginning) is the prequel.


Hard Day’s Knight, Book 1 in the Under Cover Knights

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*** This will be FREE 11/19-22 so grab your copy now ***



Is he a real hero, or just a pretender?


The tall, dark and deadly looking mercenary Delilah Burke confronts at the robbery scene is sexy as sin, and apparently “saved the day”, but is anything about him real?


Ex-Navy officer Luc Larue knows how it looks when the sexy cop and her partner respond to a silent alarm at the grocery where he stopped for a six-pack after work. Luc’s job with KPI requires certain…attire, and equipment.


Once she finds out what he does for a living, and that he’s not a real hero, she probably won’t agree to see him again, much less hear his proposition.


Each day reveals more to Del of the enigma that is Luc Larue. The guy is golden, perhaps too good to be true. Then, trouble arrives from out of his past and Del is faced with a choice – does she believe the evidence against Luc, or trust her heart?





“Was there something else you needed… Mr. Larue?”


He chuckled easily. “Yes, actually… Officer Burke.”


His eyes were on her chest and when Del looked down she realized he hadn’t been admiring her bust—darn—but looking at her badge. Her brows furrowed.


“Sorry, I was looking for your rank, Off—may I call you Del?”


Delilah started to protest but really, what was the point? He wasn’t a suspect, and he seemed like an okay guy—Navy reservist, gainfully employed, heroic citizen and all. She put the whole sense of “wrongness” yesterday down to the oddities of the circumstances and his attire. That gave her the slightest pause, because she was known for her instincts and she’d been wrong about him. Oh, come on, Del, you were doing your job, covering the bases.


She didn’t really want to encourage someone who’d been a suspect for even those few seconds, but he was way too easy to like, and she was getting those boy-howdy-would-we-like-to-jump-his-bones urges out of a rarely heard from region below her gun belt. She sent the little miscreants a Now-is-not-the-time message. They ignored her as well, whining when Luc placed one hip on the corner of her desk, allowing her to catch an enticing whiff of his scent, mingled with some kind of musky after shave. An image of him standing in front of his mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist as he applied that after shave… earth to Burke. Earth to Burke! The man is speaking.


She shrugged. Why not?


“I have a proposition for you.” Ha. Now they’d stopped whining and were fist pumping, yes!


No, she thought, gritting her teeth.


“Wait, you haven’t heard me out,” he said, frowning.


Great, she’d spoken out loud. “I’m sorry, I was… had my mind on something else.” Like the way he filled out that t-shirt. The cut of his torso, the way those muscles bunched at the slightest of movements, how that gleaming black hair would feel in her hands.


“Hear me out, please. I need a female officer for BE day.”


Oh, right, some kind of kinky sex game where he’d “be” the bad “Merc” and she’d “be” the one with the handcuffs.


He smiled, watching her thoughts move across her features as that scene presented itself.  “Officer, you’ve got a dirty mind.”


She wasn’t usually so readable. She scowled at him. “Larue, I don’t have all day.”


“Luc,” he reminded. “Okay, I’m serious. There’s a group of kids I’m presenting a program to Saturday afternoon. My expert for Saturday had to back out due to his wife going into labor early with twins.”


“You’re not by any chance talking about Detective Dunbar?”


“Yeah. So you know Tony. He’s done it for me the last couple of times. He’s always a hit with the young ladies.”


“He would be.” Tony Dunbar was an Italian charmer with five daughters and six sisters. “He’s charmed some of the most intractable suspects into confessing. What exactly is it, Larue?”


“Saturday is what we call BE day at LTF—that’s Larue Teens Forward, the old gym turned teen center.” Del had heard of the teen center and, involuntarily—the report about possible deviant behavior at the martial arts studio crept into her mind.


“It’s a pretty big deal. Some of the kids bring friends who are interested in seeing what the group is about. We have experts in different fields in weekend clothing answering questions about what they do.”


“Kind of like a career day?”


“Like that, but many of these kids were cast aside, expelled or otherwise fell through the cracks of society. We work to bring them back on their own terms into a stable and safe environment through mentoring.”


Damn, if she didn’t watch it, she’d fall for this guy. And he was so not her type. They were at it again, Aww, yes he is, he’s-our-type—Del ignored them.


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Her First Knight (The Beginning): Book 2 in the Under-Cover Knights

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Ridge Romano is an intelligent man, an inventor, veteran, CEO and mentor. His work with veterans depends on his reputation. So how did he end up on stage during a Strip Bingo contest with a hundred women screaming at him to “Take it off.” Now he has to figure out how to escape before he’s recognized, but it may already be too late. The sexy redhead who’s been watching him looks eerily familiar.


Buffy Calloway has been hearing, “You’ll know when the right one comes along” all her life. She knows when she sees the man on stage that he’s the one to be the face of her new model agency and studio, and the one she’ll spend the rest of her life with. He’s a little harder to convince.




Looking at Ridge she saw he had relaxed, and within a few minutes the men were all sharing their stories with him, from Earl, the World War II vet to her grandfather who’d served in Vietnam. Then her father and Luc answered his polite questions about their own service.


Luc asked, “How’s the Vote looking?”


“It’s still too close to call but we’re not going to give up.” He ran his hand through his hair.


“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know who I was?” He looked over at Buffy suspiciously. She just cocked her head wide-eyed. Not me.


“Oh, man, that picture in the Washington Post went global. Some of the guys in my unit saw it and said it had to be a publicity stunt to bring attention to the Vote.” Ridge looked off. “You mean it wasn’t?” Luc shook his head. “Well, surely it gave you some increased visibility.”


Ridge said, “Good and bad, it seems.”


“Well, as long as the good wins.” Luc smiled.


Buffy’s grandfather asked Ridge to explain more about how the program would work and then Buffy knew it was safe to leave Ridge in their hands. He had a completely supportive audience.


In the kitchen Buffy’s mother looked at the other three women and ground out, “It irritates me when you keep me out of the loop. He’s the one, isn’t he?” Her eyes lit with strategic fire. “Isn’t he, Lana Jean Calloway?”


Buffy couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t heard her full name in that tone of voice since she was eight. “No one’s keeping anything from you, Mom. I’m sure if you ask Ridge right now if he’s the one, he’d back out of here quicker than you could say gumbo. Please don’t blow it.”


“You knew about this, Mother,” Pamela said, calling Lillie by her affectionate nickname, to make her point of why she shouldn’t have been left out. It didn’t sound very affectionate.


“Mom, it’s just not quite time to go shopping for a wedding dress, ‘ya know?” She hugged her mother who relaxed, but Buffy could tell she wasn’t about to give up. She gave Lillie a what now? grimace and Lillie just patted them both on the back.


“Come on, girls. They could talk until next month about the wars and your Mr. Romano’s project but I think they could use a distraction. Buffy, grab the potatoes, and I’ll call your father to get the ham.”


Lunch proceeded without a hitch. Luc said his goodbyes and took off. Ridge made the rounds thanking everyone for their support and promised to come back one day.


This concerned Buffy. It sounded too much like the distant future. Shaking Earl’s hand, he said, “Sir, my company has a more advanced prosthesis. I can arrange it for you if you’re interested; it’s lighter and more flexible than the version you have.”


Earl narrowed his eyes and said, “Son, I’m ninety-three years old. This old arm has become like my real arm over the years, and we do just fine. Getting a new one at this stage of my life would be like a woman gettin’ fake boobs when she’s past her prime.” His eyes shot to Buffy’s grandmother.


“Old coot,” Ridge thought he heard Lillie say under her breath.


“Watch it, Dad,” said Robert who just put his arm around a steaming Lillie and hugged her. “Ignore him, sugar.”


“Now, Earl,” Roberta said, and her look seemed to be the only thing that made him quail.


Then Buffy’s great-grandfather shook Ridge’s hand and, looking around him at Buffy, said, “You chose a fine man, youngin’.”




Ridge turned slowly to look at Buffy. She shrugged and shook her head. It wasn’t me.


Then she watched with an impending sense of doom as her mother put a hand on Ridge’s shoulder and said, “Might as well buy the ring, dear. When a Calloway tells you, you’re the one, it’s like that old saying, “If I tell you the moon is made of green cheese, get your crackers.” She nodded, yep.


“I—” Buffy’s head sank into her hands. Why had she thought this picnic could take place without a bomb going off?


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Coming December 18th Book 3 in the Under-Cover Knights


Merry Christmas, Baby (A Knights Christmas Reunion)


In book 3, enjoy some Christmas surprises with your favorite characters from the series and get a glimpse into the lives of three new cover men – Jed, Duc, and Gino—coming in 2016.


Buffy and Ridge are always looking for new talent for their novel covers and ad campaigns at Knights Production Inc. At their annual Christmas party for KPI employees and friends, Buffy reminds Jed, Del’s partner, there’s a place for him at KPI. And Luc’s cousin Duc, the movie idol, would be a real coop for their portfolio, but he’s staying away from Larue except at Christmas, avoiding the woman he secretly still loves.


Then there’s Gino Manelli, the Raptors quarterback, who’s getting a bad rap from Jed and Duc. They think this new arrival is interested in their women—the ones the say they are NOT interested in.


Prospective cover men aside, nothing makes Buffy happier than helping the people she loves find love. And the miracle at Christmas confirms what she already knows. With a little nudge, their happily ever afters will happen in the not so distant future.





“Samantha?” came a voice on the other side of the powder room door.


She looked at the ceiling. Great. “Yes, Jed…”


“Are you okay?”


“Jed, you’re becoming kind of a mother hen. I’m just using the john,” she said in her best Captain Larue tone. There was a long silence while she continued to look for the lever and wondered if he’d left. Then she heard his foot scrape against the door. “Jed. Are you still out there?”


“Do you need me?” He asked quickly.


“No, but…” she thought of what might make him go. “You’re kind of cramping my style.”


“Did you say you’re cramping?” He asked a little louder.


“Sshh, you’ll have every one— OO… Oh.!” The pain hit so suddenly that she doubled over. She would have if she hadn’t had a fifty-pound baby in her lap. It hit again, and this time, she moaned.


“Samantha, open this door.” His voice was too loud. She knew what that was going to mean. The Horde.


Sam grit her teeth. “Go away, Jed.”


“I’m not leaving until you open this door, and I see you’re okay.”


Breathing rapidly to quell the spasms, Sam said, “Can’t you leave me alone? Get Buffy or mom if you want to be helpful.”


She could almost hear him thinking on the other side of the wooden barrier. “If you need your mother, you need me. I’m trained in this. No one else here is. Unlock the door before I bust in.”


“There’s no room to bust in, Stern. Me and this kid are taking up the entire bathroom.” She sighed and scooted to the edge of the toilet. “Hold on, hold on, don’t go causing a ruckus. I wouldn’t put it past The Horde to try to fit into this one-person bathroom. Horde was the affectionate name Sam and her brother Luc gave the rest of the family, except for their father. She twisted the button on the knob and the door swung out.


A frowning and obviously concerned Jed immediately knelt in front of her, squeezing his wide shoulders in between her and the sink. His brilliant brown eyes bore into hers looking for clues, just like a detective. “Okay. Be honest with me, Samantha. Are you having contractions?”


“No! At least…. I don’t…I don’t think so. I just couldn’t find the lever to flush the toilet.”


Jed frowned in irritation. “That’s all? You couldn’t flush?” He made a face and said, “What have you been eating?”


She glared at him even though she caught the sparkle in his eyes. “Jalapenos and banana pudding… and some other stuff.”


He chuckled and made the same search she had while she sat there taking shallow breaths so he wouldn’t notice. If she took a deep breath she would take in his manly scent. He worked out a lot and had probably come straight from the gym. The smell was intoxicating, mesmerizing— damn these hormones. She shook herself. He was still tinkering with something over her left shoulder, then the sound and vibration of the toilet flushing gave her a small sense of relief. She looked up at him as he straightened. “Where was it?”


He scratched his head looking surprised. “Against the wall. The toilet was installed backwards.”


“That’s crazy,” she said as her mother and older sister Chaz appeared in the doorway.


“What’s wrong?” asked Chaz.


“Samantha are you in labor?” her mother, the Colonel, demanded.


She rolled her eyes. “No, I just came to use the restroom and “ahhh.” The cry was ripped from her throat.


Jed wasted no time asking for permission. He leaned down and helped her get to her feet then scooped her into his arms. “Jed,” she protested.


He angled her feet through the door and said, “Damn, you’re heavy.”


Sam met his eyes and glared. “It’s the shoes. And thank you darling, you’re such a charmer. Just what I love about you.”


Their eyes met and it seemed that time ticked one second for every ten. Had she just said that? “Or hate. Please put me down.”


“No chance, Doc.” He made it out of the bathroom carefully angling her legs so she wouldn’t hit the sink, the door or… the crowd of spectators in the hall—


Sam groaned. “Oh, God. Kill me now.”


 Livia Quinn Head Shot_M9A0603 square sml copy


Author Biography:


Livia Quinn is a DC native living in the wilds of Louisiana. She’s written nine books in the Storm lake series, four paranormal and five contemporary romance. She believes that just like in her stories, anything can happen! Visit her website to find out more about her Storm Lake world.



Buy Links:

Author Central


Social Media Links:


Sign up for my newsletter at  to be included in prizes and news. View the Storm Lake pages for a map of Storm Lake as well as character lists and glossaries.





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The Place Where Danger Meets Desire… WetWork Series Spotlight by @CadenceDenton #IAN1

Series Spotlight


Dark Man Case Files

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The Place Where Danger Meets Desire…

Enter a shadow world of espionage and counter espionage. Where killing is a career path that pays according to your level of expertise, where you are only as good as your last hit.

Enter a world where competition is fierce and growing eyes in the back of your head is a requirement, where you could be the shooter one day and the target the next.

Enter a world where this moment, this breath could be your last.

WetWork is a gritty, action-packed romantic serial (25k). Filled with pulsing passion and heart pounding intrigue, it is the first episode in this hot, new series by author, Cadence Denton. Each installment ends in a cliffhanger.

Books in order of release:

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WetWork, Dark Man Case Files, Episode 1



Someone is killing Department hunters one-by-one. Dark Man, the Department’s best hitman, is determined to find the assassin and take him out.
The Archangel is known throughout the globe for her body count. Now her employers, the Chernyy Group, Russia’s super-secret counter intelligence agency, have aimed her at its rival, the Department…and DM.
When DM captures the illusive Angel, sparks fly and passions explode.
When she asks his name, he replies, “I’m your future.”
But is he her future lover or executioner?
He has questions. She has the answers. He knows what he should do, but why not do what he wants—seduce her and get the answers that way?


The soft cough of Gamer’s gun as he double-tapped the target finalizing the contract, an octogenarian with a paunch and bald head, brought DM out of his stupor.

“Did you catch my shadow?” Gamer’s voice sounded in his ear.

DM’s gaze tangled with the woman’s. He watched a single dark eyebrow lift in question and scowled in response. He was torn, and furious that he found himself torn. He shouldn’t feel conflicted. Hell, he should turn her ass over to the Medic, whoever the fuck she was.

“Dark Man—?” Gamer hissed.

“Dark Man?” she gasped.

His scowl deepened. DM’s exploits had become an urban legend in the small world of assassins and hitmen. Hell, they’d been embellished to the point you’d think he could frickin’ sprout wings and fly while shooting laser beams from his eyes.

She attempted to slide from his loosened grip. Automatically, he tightened it, crushing her to him. She exhaled, then went slack as though saying, Do what you want.

“Dark Man—?”

DM’s jaw flexed once, twice.

“No,” he answered, eyeing her. “Your shadow got away.” He inexplicably loosed his grip, freeing the woman and stepped back. He was setting her free. Why?

She reached up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to DM’s, running her tongue lightly over his bottom lip. Then she stepped back and disappeared into the night.


“I just don’t get it,” Gamer said for the thousandth time running a gloved hand over his close cropped head.

DM clenched his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose. Breathed—not sighed. He did nothing so limp wristed as “sigh”. He hit the door when the security light turned green, lengthening his stride to fit his six foot six inch frame hoping to leave Gamer and his questions behind.

Gamer’s stride wasn’t far off DM’s still he quickened his pace to keep up with the bigger man, his rubber soled boots squeaking on the polished tile floor. DM’s heavier boots thundered out a steady military-smart rhythm.

“You say you had the tracker in your sights…and he got away?” Gamer asked in that incredulous tone that had DM grinding his teeth in frustration.

DM picked up the pace, his black ankle-length duster flapping behind him like the cape of the super-hero he was supposed to be. More like anti-hero he thought darkly.

“I didn’t let him get away,” he growled. Better to let Gamer think the person tailing him was male. Much better.

“See…that’s where it doesn’t make sense,” Gamer insisted. “My shadow escaped untouched and unharmed…from you.”

“Dammit, Gamer, you act like I’m fuckin’ Wolverine.”

“But you never miss a target.”

DM stopped so suddenly the skirts of his coat circled his calves. Gamer continued a couple steps further before stopping. He turned to face the big man his expression expectant.

“Listen,” DM growled, “I don’t know what you want from me. I guess I zigged when I shoulda’ mother fuckin’ zagged and the son of a bitch got away.” His big hands curled into sledge hammer-sized fists.

Gamer lifted his hands, palm side out. “Fine…okay…sorry.”

DM exhaled again and no, it sure as hell wasn’t a sigh, before continuing down the hallway with Gamer trailing him.

“Still…you have to admit that isn’t like you, DM.”

“I’m not fuckin’ Superman, dude,” DM growled and paced off leaving Gamer at the desk to sign in his equipment.

DM’s scowl was aimed squarely at himself. How the fuck did he think he’d possibly convince the Chief that Gamer’s shadow had the chops to escape him when he couldn’t even convince Gamer? This had to be the first time his legendary reputation worked against him. Another deep breath. Why? Why had he let her go?

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WetWork, Dark Man Case Files, Episode 2



Just once Dark Man would like to go a day without having to dodge bullets. Just freaking once. However, since Angel crash-landed in his life, that’s all he’s been doing.

Angel feels pulled in opposite directions. On the one hand, she wants to admit the truth to DM, but on the other, she knows she must remain loyal to Damien, her boss and DM’s identical twin. What troubles her most is can she trust Damien or will he put her head on the chopping block? Then there’s one small problem.
She’s attracted to both men.

The leader of the super-secret Guild, Damien has cut all ties with his estranged brother. Or has he? One thing DM knows for certain, if Damien is stirring this pot then it’s poisonous.

When the Department and Chernyy start to doubt their agent’s loyalty, then Dark Man and Angel have no choice but to trust each other and hope their skills will keep them alive.


DM plucked a champagne flute from the tray held by a waiter and offered it to Elle.

“I see one, two… make that three of Moto’s lieutenants and several representatives of the Columbian growers’ conglomerate,” Elle whispered through the link, the glass masking her mouth.

The security detail scattered so obviously around the mansion and grounds weren’t the real danger. High powered cameras with the ability to zoom in and count the hairs on a flea’s back were. Not to mention the lip reading software now standard in most high level systems.

Have you located the target?

“He’s at the foot of the stairs, greeting guests,” DM said, dropping a kiss on Elle’s shoulder.

That was a bit of luck there. With a little more they could get the job done and be away well under the allotted time.

Proceed, the handler said.

DM followed Elle, his eyes sweeping the room, searching out the nooks, looking for enemies and cameras, but the laser lighting and the crushing crowd made it difficult. Instead he focused on the welcoming committee.

Moto had two bodyguards flanking him. One shifted and DM saw the glint of his pistol in the shoulder holster beneath his tuxedo jacket. Both men had the hard countenances and shifting gazes that bespoke serious training. For once, it was nice to see the briefing for this job had been on target, he thought sourly. Bad intelligence made his job harder. Not impossible, just harder. Tonight, he’d like easy.

They continued their downward trek, trailing an older man whose arms were around two teens – a boy and a girl. Descending the wide stairs in fits and starts, the old sod passed the time running one hand over the girl’s breasts and the other fondling the boy’s bottom. The girl giggled nervously while the boy tried to step out of the pervert’s reach. DM eyed the old goat. It would take two, three seconds to break the man’s wrists. While that would offer a welcome diversion besides give new meaning to the axiom: keep your hands to yourself, DM could not. He was on the Department clock. Maybe he’d visit the pervert another night and have a little heart to heart. He looked away, exhaling a long breath. It wasn’t a sigh. He did nothing so limp wristed as sigh.

Moto waited to meet his guests at the foot of the stairs like a gracious monarch. Dark hair swept back and gelled into place, coffee colored skin, blue eyes, average height, and stocky build, he was dressed in a white silk shirt unbuttoned to reveal a paunch worthy of a hibernating bear and tan linen pants. Grinning around a cigar clenched between his teeth and the curvy woman hanging on his arm, Moto yucked it up with the old pervert before sending him and his underage sex toys on their way. Change the face and location and Moto could be anyone of a thousand narcissistic killers DM had offed, he thought huffing again. He was so ready to get this job done.

“Remember, he’s not stupid so don’t you be stupid,” Elle hissed as they stepped forward.

“You watch yourself, rookie. I’m not runnin’ a daycare,” DM growled, giving her a level look. He’d have a talk with the Chief about pairing him with inexperienced smart asses when he got back to the Department.

“Welcome, welcome, friends to my humble home,” Moto said in Spanish. His unique dialect, a blend of Mayan and Spanish, pegged the Yucatan Peninsula as his home.

“I am honored to have been invited, jefe,” DM replied in the same language, if not dialect, gripping Moto’s hand.

Moto nodded at the compliment DM had given him in his choice of title. By calling Moto boss, DM was recognizing the man’s status, his power.

“And I am honored by the presence of a representative from my dear Venezuelan friends. Your lovely lady is very welcome as well,” Moto added, reaching for Elle’s hand.

Time seemed to slow as DM focused in hard on the exchange. This was it. Go time.

Smiling, Elle stretched out her hand to grasp his. The ring on her middle finger was large, spanning from knuckle to knuckle.  Sparkling in the light, its deadly cache of poison was cleverly hidden in the twists of silver. The poison was fast acting, once delivered to the target’s bloodstream via the hidden needle it would set to work immediately; causing tachycardia, a rise in temperature, confusion, vomiting, unconsciousness, and finally death. From beginning to end, it would take an hour. Tops.

Elle murmured some platitude, her fingers brushing Moto’s as she stepped forward. DM maintained his smile. All that was needed was a single, firm squeeze. He watched Moto’s hand begin to close around his partner’s. Almost there.

“Gloria, I can’t believe you’re here!”

A blond haired bimbo exclaimed, bumping into Elle with enough force to break her contact with the target. The goblet of red wine gripped in the bimbo’s fist, splashed Elle full in the face causing her to sputter and stagger under the deluge.

The blonde was hot, her four alarm body encased like sausage in a skin-tight spangled red dress that almost covered her round ass. She spun about on strappy platform sandals to face a frowning Moto. The red wine splatters on his white shirt looked like blood. “Ooo, sorry hun. Did I butt in? Gloria and I went to high school together.”

Moto’s body guards moved in front of their employer putting a wall of brawn and firearms between him and DM, Elle, and the blond intruder.

What’s happening, team one? The handler’s voice drilled in DM’s ear.

“Geez, I’m such a clumsy ass. Sorry!” The woman shrugged, her blonde curls bouncing on bare shoulders. She glanced up at DM, her up-tilted amber eyes gleaming in the light. Familiar up-tilted amber eyes. The muscles in his jaw flexed.

Elle stood like a deer caught in headlights, her inexperience flying high and wide while the wine dripped down her chin soaking her clothes.

Report… Team one… copy?

Moto shouldered a guard aside and tilted his head. “I apologize for this insult,” he said to DM then turned to his arm candy and said, “Maria, querida, escort the young lady to the powder room and help her get cleaned up.”

Dammit, Morace! What the hell’s going on?

Elle balked, staring at DM who dropped a chin in agreement. Reluctantly, she followed the woman, gazing back over her shoulder until they disappeared through a door.

“Pablo, take this puta. Find out who she is and what she’s doing here. No, find out who she is with. That’s the idiot I want to speak to.”

DM gripped the woman’s arm so hard she cried out in pain. “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to handle this clumsy puta.”

Moto looked from DM to the struggling woman and chuckled. “Bueno, I’ll let you… how you say… take care of her.” He waved the guard off, turning back to the line of guests.

With a short bow to the Mexican drug lord, he gripped the blonde’s upper arm and dragged her away. It was impossible for the smaller woman to match his long stride so she stumbled after him.

“You’re hurting me,” Angel remarked, her tone disinterested.

“Good,” he snarled. What was it with this woman following him, fouling up his missions?
WetWork Ep3 WEB 06152015

WetWork, Dark Man Case Files, Episode 3


Things have gone from bad to worse for Dark Man. First, he was set up to be the fall guy for the Guild, the family who’d named him pariah and turned their backs on him. Next, his current employers decided to terminate him with extreme prejudice. And then there’s Angel—the fact she’d called him by his brother’s name when they made love was the cherry on top of this crap cake. It almost made being the Medic’s new lab rat a relief. Almost.

He’d like to bury his feelings for Angel, but he hadn’t signed on for what the Medic planned: to turn him into a robot with a pulse.

Add another covert group with its own agenda to the already crowded field of adversaries and the conspiracy web grows wider. With his list of enemies multiplying by the minute, Dark Man’s chances of surviving are slim to none.

He needs a miracle. He needs his Angel.


Angel sat at a small table inside the Sixty-first Street Starbucks on Galveston Island, studiously avoiding eye contact with the elderly couple on her right while her stomach growled at the fragrant scent of cinnamon rolls and fresh scones.

The old woman’s face had drawn up in a mask of disapproval, her nose crinkled like she smelled an open landfill instead of the heady aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and pastries. She shot a barrage of narrow-eyed glares Angel’s way while her husband’s gaze was altogether different. The old man looked at Angel like she was a three-inch thick New York strip steak. She’d watched him swipe a strand of drool from quivering lips before his gnarled hand retreated beneath the table to do God knew what.

Once more she fought the urge to tug at her skirt. What was the point? It wasn’t like pulling on it was going to make it one millimeter longer.

The old lady sniffed then turned her attention back to her ensainada. She took a bite and Angel’s stomach growled so loudly the table of teenage surfers on the other side of the old farts heard it and snickered. Angel sighed. She’d wanted to order the yummy coiled sweet bread topped with powdered sugar with her coffee, but sadly could only scratch up enough coins to pay for the iced caffe Americano.

She didn’t dare use her credit cards. The last thing she needed was a Chernyy headhunter showing up which would be the first thing to happen if she used her plastic. Anyway, she needed the caffeine more than the Danish so her empty stomach would just have to suck it up. Unhappy with the arrangement, her stomach complained again. Geez, where was her coffee? Angel glanced back at the barista, saw her cup was now third in line and sighed again. Who would have thought Starbucks would be this busy on a Sunday morning?

She crossed her legs and mentally rolled her eyes when she heard the old man slurp in a breath while the sour old lady hissed, “Shameless hussy.”

Yeah. Well, she’d just have to suck it up, too. Angel peered out the wall of glass. The surf was as gray as the morning sky. It reflected her mood.

She was a legend in the assassins’ community. Her reputation as lethal and invincible was almost universal. Why did she feel so helpless? Worse than that, she felt fragile, like she’d shatter into a zillion pieces at the slightest touch.


Starting, she looked around to see the young man at the counter. Her order was ready. She’d forgotten that she’d given him her true name. Tugging again at the disobedient skirt, she rose to her feet.

“Sweet Jesus on a donkey.” The old man’s voice was hoarse. With her peripheral vision, Angel watched his wife lean over and give his arm a smack.

“Oww… whaddidya do that for?”

“C’mon you old coot. We’re leaving.”

“Why? I haven’t finished my breakfast.”

“Oh, yes you have,” she snapped. Draping her purse over her shoulder, she marched him to the door, her gnarled hand gripping his wrist while he cast longing looks back at Angel.

After adding sweetener to the coffee, Angel returned to her seat, sipping contentedly as the strong brew hit her stomach and silenced its demands at least for a while. With the dual distractions of hunger and lecherous old men taken out of the equation, her thoughts returned like homing pigeons to what was really bothering her. DM.

Angel picked at the neon pink fingernail polish on her thumb, her coffee forgotten. Why… why had she left DM that way?

Coming November 2015…

WetWork Episode 4 WEB 10082015

WetWork, Dark Man Case Files, Episode 4

Don’t miss the exciting conclusion of DM and Angel’s story.

Cadence Denton

Author Biography:


I’m an odd mixture of one part dreamer, one part realist, and two parts stubborn—which can be a positive thing if you’re a writer. Not content to write in just one genre, I write dark paranormal romance, time travel, light science fiction, romantic comedy, and gritty romantic thrillers. Told you I was stubborn (that and a little crazy!). Besides, doing the same thing day after day can become boring and we can do with a little less boring, right?

Visit my website for more information on all my series and upcoming projects. You may not find everything to your liking but you won’t be bored.



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The Vault, Friends and More Series by @Anne_Lange #EroticRomance #BDSM #menage

FriendsWBenefits cover

Title: Friends With Benefits (The Vault, Friends and More Book 1)

Author: Anne Lange

Genre: Erotic Romance

Book Blurb:

Can sexual exploration lead to three times the bliss?

Tyler had no idea his wife Angela’s desires so closely matched his own. But when some unguarded pillow talk reveals her fantasy of two men at once, Tyler jumps at the chance to make her happy. Enlisting the help of his best friend Connor, who’d shared some threesome adventures with him in the past, Tyler secretly hopes exploring Angela’s fantasies will lead to his own personal desire—a permanent threesome with the two people he loves most in the world.

Connor can’t believe it when his best friend asks him to seduce his wife. Then he meets Angela, and all the women in his past fade away. With Tyler’s blessing, Connor sets out to melt Angela’s reserve, and when Tyler joins the party, the three of them set the sheets on fire.

Angela is floored when her husband suggests they explore some of her fantasies—things she’d only read about but never in a million years thought she’d actually do. Sandwiched between Tyler and Connor, she’s never felt so treasured, so protected, so loved. But the reality proves much more complicated than the fantasy. She loves her husband, but she finds herself falling for his best friend too. That’s not normal, is it? What will people think?
Exclusive Excerpt:

“I thought you were going to wait outside.”

“You were taking too long, so I figured I’d come in and see if I could help. Good thing, because it looks like you need some…assistance.”

He edged closer, forcing her to bend toward the countertop. He rubbed his palms up and down the length of her arms. Her eyes drifted closed, and she straightened, leaning her head back against his shoulder before realizing what she was doing.

His nuzzling switched to wet kisses along her shoulder. He licked her neck as his hands moved up to cup her breasts, weighing them in his hands. His thumbs passed over her nipples, which reacted to the spark of his touch, perking right up. He groaned in her ear and pinched the hard tips between his fingers before gently tugging them through the fabric of her clothing.

She wiggled her ass, arching her back so her rear pressed tight to his groin. With his right hand, he started a downward trek from her breast to her waist, and then moved to the top of her sex. He flattened his palm against her tummy, his touch firm, before moving lower still, fingers stretching to reach the spot she desired him most.

Holding her breath, she waited for him to go that little bit further. His fingers pulsed against her. Even beneath her shorts her flesh felt singed. Their harsh panting was the only sound in the small room. Anticipation hung in the air like steam in a sauna.

Her courage rising, Angela inched her hand down his arm until she covered his hand with her own. She nudged his forearm, urging him to continue. Once he knew he had her permission, he resumed his journey while he turned his head, burying his nose behind her ear.

With one hand on her breast and the other rubbing between her legs, she started to feel overwhelmed with sensation. Angela turned in the cage of his arms. His eyes dark with passion, the ridges of his cheekbones flushed, he closed the distance and claimed her mouth in a demanding dance. She flattened her palms on his chest and curled her fingers into his pectorals. Connor moaned.

Before she knew it they stood naked in her kitchen. She couldn’t say how it happened or who initiated it. But, all of a sudden, Angela found herself sitting on the counter with Connor wedged between her legs. His hands grasped her head, holding it immobile while he kissed her, his invasion so thorough that time seemed to stand still. His tongue touched every corner of her mouth; it ran along her teeth, dipping to duel with hers. They sparred until he grabbed hold and sucked her tongue into his mouth, the pressure so exquisite she felt its pull all the way down to her toes.

Needing air, Angela broke away. Connor pulled back and nipped her bottom lip before leaning down to grasp her right nipple between his teeth. He tugged and sucked at her breasts as ravenously as he had kissed her mouth. He moved back and forth, lavishing the same treatment on both breasts, fondling one while he suckled the other, licking and using gentle pressure with his teeth to bite the tips. Pleasure, charged like electricity, zinged between her chest and her womb.

Good heavens. Anybody could walk up to the patio door and see what they were doing. Her hands tunneled into his hair, holding him to her chest. She couldn’t bear for him to continue; she couldn’t let him stop.

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WickedIndulgence cover

Title: Wicked Indulgence (The Vault Series: Friends and More Book 2)

Author: Anne Lange

Genre: Erotic Romance (BDSM)

Book Blurb:

Two men. One woman. How wonderful wicked can be.

Jamie prefers one-night stands to the risk of hurting someone he loves. He’s not willing to repeat the past. Years ago his naïve attempts at Dominance left his girlfriend bruised and frightened, and she mysteriously left town rather than show her face around him again.

Daniel wants something more. He hopes that one day he and Jamie will find that perfect woman to share forever. As members of the prestigious BDSM club known as The Vault and co-owners in a veterinary clinic, he never thought she’d walk through their door. Or ask for his best friend.

Melissa has done everything she can to protect the only man she’s ever loved. Finally rid of her abusive ex, she’s living on her own terms. Only she never counted on Daniel, a man who ignites enough sizzle in her body to compete with her passion for her first love, Jamie. And in order for them to be happy, she needs to find a way to put the past, and the people who won’t remain there, behind her for good…and convince Jamie that he was never the monster he thought himself to be…

Reader discretion: contains spanking, bondage, voyeurism, sex club, m/f/m ménage romance elements

Exclusive Excerpt:

“Does Jamie Logan work here?”

Surprise shot through him, and he hesitated before answering, momentarily caught off guard by the breathy texture of her voice. It lent some pretty erotic images to his imagination, which only made her more fascinating. But who was she and why did she ask for his partner, especially after he’d just seen female appreciation in her appraisal of him? He’d never mentioned somebody like this gorgeous creature to him. Daniel would have remembered that particular conversation. And to his knowledge, Jamie wasn’t seeing anybody outside of the subs they shared at the club. Daniel knew Jamie went to great lengths to keep his personal life separate from his very personal life.

Initially, Daniel had been really put out by the fact that his best friend—a man he’d spent years sharing class assignments and all-nighters with, then office hours, all while practicing various methods of giving a woman pleasure—hadn’t include him in certain parts of his life.

But that’s the way Jamie was. He compartmentalized everything.

So this pretty thing standing before him may be beautiful, but he had no clue if she was friend or foe and in what compartment she belonged. Yet. “May I ask why you’re asking?”

She smiled at him, and his breath caught. The gentle curve of her lips lit up her face and brightened her eyes to the most amazing shade of violet. For the first time since being a teenager faced with the prettiest girl in class asking for help with her biology homework, he found himself speechless and rock fucking hard. If not for his lab coat, he feared he might scare the crap out of her and send her running, calling him all sorts of names.

“I, ah…” Her gaze darted around the room. Now she looked a tad unsure. “I, um…I knew him a long time ago and I just want to stop in and say hi. If he works here that is. I’ve checked two of the other clinics in town, and the last one referred me here.”

He finally found his voice, though it came out an octave or two lower than normal. “Are you new in town?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“We, ah…we ran into each other a few months back, but…well…we didn’t have an opportunity to talk at the time.” She kept moving, shifting her weight from her left foot to right and played with the strap on her purse, rubbing her finger up and down its length, caressing it almost.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not here today. Unless we have emergencies or a hectic caseload, we don’t usually work the same days. Can I get your name and let him know you stopped by?” Could he have her phone number if she was in a giving mood?

She stopped fidgeting and bit her bottom lip.

“Don’t do that.” The Dom in him roared to life, his voice this time lowering naturally as he issued the order. He wanted to be the one to bite that luscious red lip and watch it swell. Or better yet, watch her bite it while she contemplated having his cock in her mouth while Jamie fucked her from behind. Oh, what a sweet fucking image that was.

“Excuse me?” She gave him a questioning look, but she did release the hold on her lip. Good girl.

“Don’t bite your lip. You’re marking it. And lips as lush and beautiful as yours shouldn’t bear marks like that.” Unless of course he was the one responsible for putting them there.

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Author Biography:
Shoes are her addiction, but books are her passion.  Anne Lange grew up with a love for reading. If you take a close look, she’s got either a book, her Kindle or her Kobo nearby at all times. You know, just in case there’s time to sneak in a chapter or ten.  Anne reads many genres of romance, but prefers to write sexy stories, often with a dash of humor, and usually with a side of those sinful pleasures your mom never told you about.  And always with a happily ever after.

While embarking on this wild journey of becoming a romance author, Anne juggles a full time job and a family. Though not always successfully. Who needs a clean house every day?  And what’s wrong with cereal for dinner? She lives in Ontario, Canada with her wonderfully supportive husband, three awesome kids who are growing up way too fast, and the family pets, Rocky the bearded dragon and Lily the chocolate lab.
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The Grey-Haired Knitting Detectives Series by @DenaEHaggerty #MMRomance #CozyMystery


Book title: Murder, Mystery & Dating Mayhem

Series: The Gray-Haired Knitting Detectives, Book 1, Standalone

Author: D.E. Haggerty

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Cozy Mystery

Published: March 1, 2015



My name is Izzy. I drink too much, am clumsier than a newborn foal, and my brain-to-mouth filter often malfunctions. My daredevil husband killed himself in a parachuting accident five years ago and my best friend Jack has decided it’s time I jump back in the dating pool. He’s perfectly happy to throw me in if I don’t listen. Just when things in the dating world start to heat up, my grandma dies. Only her knitting group of Jessica Fletcher wannabes is sure it’s murder. I’m not convinced but I’m always up for a bit of excitement as long as it doesn’t lead to a night in jail. Well, more than one night anyway. Will I miss my chance at love because I’m chasing imaginary killers? Did someone really kill grandma or am I and my merry band of geriatric thieves imagining things?

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“Sometimes my mouth opens before my brain can stop it.”

“A thong,” Grandma chortles. “Don’t you know better than to wear dental floss for underwear?’”

“He’s so far out of my league I’m surprise the dating police haven’t hauled him away for a grievous felony.”

Short Excerpt:

“Excuse me,” I say as I try to catch the bartender’s attention. The bartender, however, is more interested in the young girls prancing around than in me. I sigh and lean onto the bar ensuring that the girls are visible. “Excuse me,” I say again, but this time I use a sultry voice – or at least that’s what I’m going for. The bartender finally looks my way and I smile when I see his eyes immediately lured to my cleavage. Gotcha! “Tequila shot with a beer chaser, please.” He jumps to fulfill my order, but nearly trips as he attempts to maintain eye contact with my bosom and reach for the tequila bottle at the same time.

I hear someone chuckle beside me and turn to see a hotter than hot piece of male specimen staring at me. I immediately feel my face burn. The bartender saves me by slamming my drinks down in front of me. I grab the tequila shot and quickly down it before latching onto the beer to soothe my burning esophagus. Good thing I have lots of practice or I would probably spit the beer out like a college freshman during rush week, although I may have coughed just a teensy bit.

Sufficiently fortified, I turn to the man again and notice him watching me. He raises an eyebrow. “I tried that trick earlier,” he says, tilting his head towards the bar, “but the bartender didn’t seem impressed with my assets.” I look him up and down. “You look pretty hot to me,” I say and then slap my hand over my mouth when I realize my comment probably sounded like some lame pick-up line.  “Sorry.” Is it possible for my face to spontaneously burst into flames?  “Sometimes my mouth opens before my brain can stop it.”

The man laughs and shakes his head. He reaches out to shake my hand just as a loud, obnoxious bell rings. “That’s my cue,” I say as I jump off the barstool. I wobble a bit, and hottie reaches out to steady me with his hand on my elbow. I gasp as a current of pure electricity moves through my arm. I startle and nearly trip in my heels.


Book Title: Jack Gets His Man

Series: The Gray-Haired Knitting Detectives, Book 2, Standalone

Author: D.E. Haggerty

Genre: Romantic Comedy (M/M), Cozy Mystery

Published: July 1, 2015


Jack’s life is awesome. His store is making money hand over fist and his best friend has found love. So what if he’s feeling a bit restless and put out about his upcoming birthday and his ex is being a pain in his fabulous behind? That’s nothing he can’t handle. But then his smoking hot new bookkeeper discovers things at the store aren’t actually as they seem. Someone is playing fast and loose with the finances. Jack’s bestie and his gal pals, the gray-haired knitting detectives, jump at the chance to solve Jack’s problems. When they aren’t re-enacting scenes from spy thrillers, they’re setting Jack up on dates and generally insinuating themselves into his love life. They’re determined to find love for Jack as well as his missing money. Will Jack catch a thief or find love? Either way Jack’s going to get his man.

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Jack groaned and hid his face in his hands. This is what his life was reduced to? Getting set up on blind dates by eighty-year-old grandmas? He was pretty sure this was the definition of pathetic.

“Underwear,” Betty repeated. “Why do you need cross-dressing underwear?”

Jack’s face pinked slightly. “Well, you know, to tuck certain assets away.”

The ladies giggled and glanced at his package, which was obviously not tucked away. Clearing his throat and resisting temptation to cover his family jewels with his hands, Jack continued. “And on this side, we have the big and beautiful section for women.”

“Hands in the air. Drop to your knees” was shouted at them. Blinded by a flashlight, it was impossible to identify the speaker.

Martha huffed. “There is no way I’m going to my knees, young man,” she yelled at the light.

“Me either. I’ll never be able to get up again,” Ally agreed and put her hands on her hips in protest.

Jack shook his head but quickly dropped to his knees. Only he would get caught while snooping with two grandmas who refused to listen to the police. He hung his head and pretended he was somewhere else, anywhere else.

Short Excerpt: 

“I hate you,” Jack whispered as the door opened again. Danny ushered in a beautiful man and Jack perked up immediately. Izzy gave him a side-long glance but he ignored her. Things were looking up.

“This is Damien,” Danny said before backing slowly out of the office, eyes glued to the man candy that was Damien.

Izzy jumped up to shake his hand. Jack just stared until she kicked him in the shin. Then he stood up as well, but he looked like he was in a trance as he reached forward to shake Damien’s hand. Izzy had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling.

“So,” Izzy began once everyone had sat down and Jack had inspected Damien from top to toe. “Why do you want to work here?”

Damien turned his dazzling smile on Izzy and winked. “Seriously? This store is awesome.”

“Are you a cross-dresser?” Jack asked before Izzy had a chance to kick him again.

“No,” he shook his head. “But I think it’s great that someone is willing to have a store dedicated to cross-dressers in such a small town in Oklahoma of all places.”

“You do realize that a significant portion of the store’s income comes from the big and beautiful women’s section,” Izzy pointed out.

Damien waved his hand in dismissal of her objection. “But that’s great as well. Everyone should have good clothing options.” He looked at Jack for confirmation and Jack nearly took his head off nodding in agreement. Izzy had to stifle yet another laugh.

Jack cradled his head in his hands with his elbows on the table staring at Damien. Obviously it was up to Izzy to conduct this interview. “Tell us about your work experience.”

The interview lasted 30 minutes, but Jack couldn’t tell you one single thing that was said during that time. He was too busy trying to keep his drool from spilling out of his mouth. Izzy cleared her throat and Jack realized that everyone was standing. He quickly jumped to his feet and shook Damien’s hand, holding on for as long as possible. Damien gave him a megawatt smile before turning to leave.

Izzy collapsed in the chair and turned squinted eyes on Jack. “No.”

Jack flounced into his chair and decided to play innocent. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?” He might be overdoing the innocent thing.


Book title: Love in the Time of Murder

Series: The Gray-Haired Knitting Detectives, Book 3, Standalone

Author: D.E. Haggerty

Genre: Cozy Mystery, Romantic Comedy

Published: October 5, 2015


In Love in the Time of Murder, the Gray-Haired Knitting Detectives face their toughest case yet. Delilah, or Dee as she wishes everyone would just call her already, is the granddaughter of one of the knitting detectives and her life is in a bit of a shambles. She finally manages to pry herself away from her husband’s clutches, move out on her own, and start her own business. But then her estranged husband is murdered and she’s the number one suspect. The Gray-Haired Knitting Detectives aren’t about to let one of their own get sent to the slammer and jump at the chance to search for the true killer. As if Dee doesn’t have enough problems, the knitting detectives decide that Delilah being a widow is the perfect opportunity to find her a new man and decide to put their matchmaking skills to use. Will Dee end up in prison for a murder she didn’t commit or will she be taking another walk down the aisle?


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Everyone stops talking when I enter the kitchen. Oh great a confrontation. I do so love confrontations; especially when I’m dressed in sleep shorts and a tank top with no bra. It gives me no end of confidence to confront people with my boobs hanging out.

“The grandmas scare you? They’re a bunch of old ladies that go to church and knit together. What’s scary about that?”

Tommy shakes his head. “You have no idea what they’re capable of.” I shrug. Is he serious? “They put ex-lax in the brownies at church!”

“Shoot! I’m going to fry for Brock’s murder.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Damien speaks for the first time. “They don’t use the electric chair in Oklahoma. It’s lethal injection.”

Short Excerpt: 

The entrance to the strip club is open and in the small area between the open front door and the second door sits a man on a stool. As we approach, he stands and crosses his arms over his chest. Oh, my god! Call the press! We’ve found King Kong and he’s apparently a bouncer at a titty bar in the outskirts of Oklahoma City.

“Hey man,” Jack says to King Kong and attempts to saunter past.

King Kong shakes his head. “Um no, I can’t let you in.” He points to Grandma and her posse. “They are instant boner killers. Not good for business, man.”

Betty huffs. “You’re going to let in two gay men but not us?”

King Kong shrugs. “I don’t care if the gay dudes want to make a stripper sandwich. But the customers are going to run out of here like their asses are on fire the second this AARP bus arrives.”

The ladies huff, but they know a lost cause when they see one. Betty looks ready to take on the gorilla. Thankfully, Grandma and her cronies grab her arms and pull her away from the entrance before she starts a riot. Izzy watches them leave and then turns to the bouncer whose eyes about bug out when he sees her baby bump.

“What are you trying to do to me? First, old ladies and now a pregnant one.” He points at Izzy’s bump. “You! No! These men don’t need to be reminded of the consequences of fooling around on the side.”

Izzy rubs her belly but shrugs and follows the ladies to their car. I turn to the giant-sized man and see his gaze on me. “Am I okay? Can I go in?”

The giant’s eyes sweep from head to toe over me and suddenly I feel like I need a shower. I shiver as he reaches to his crotch and adjusts himself. Gross. Totally gross. “Oh yeah, babe, you’re welcome. Make sure you talk to the bartender about dancing. You’d make a killing.”

D E Haggerty

Author Biography:

I was born and raised in Wisconsin, but think I’m a European (and have the EU passport to prove it!). After spending my senior year of high school in Germany, I developed a bad case of wanderlust that is yet to be cured. My flying Dutch husband and I have lived in Ohio, Virginia, the Netherlands, Germany and now Istanbul. We still haven’t decided if we want to settle down somewhere – let alone where. I’m leaning towards somewhere I can learn to surf even though the hubby thinks that’s a less than sound way to decide where to live. Although I’ve been a military policewoman, a commercial lawyer, and a B&B owner, I think with writing I may have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. That’s assuming I ever grow up, of course. Between playing tennis, running much slower than I would like, trying to adopt every stray dog within a 5-mile radius, traveling to exotic new locales, singing off tune, drinking entirely too many adult beverages, addictively watching new movies and reading books like they are going out of style, I write articles for a local expat magazine and various websites, review other indie authors’ books, write a blog about whatever comes to mind and am working on my seventh book.

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Southern Seas Series by Gwendoline Ewins #romance #Regency #MFRWAuthor (17+)

Who Is He - EBOOK

Title: Who is He?

Author: Gwendoline Ewins

Series: Southern Seas

Genre: Regency Romantic Comedy, sensual, intended for 17+ readers

Book blurb: 

1803, London

“I have a cabin booked on the ‘Cambray’ bound for the Southern Seas,” he announces mere hours before they are to be joined as one in the sight of God and Mama and Papa and her very best friend Deborah.
Hester had fallen in love with him at first sight, before she knew his true character. Now his ridiculous prank has forced them into a marriage neither wants. Worse, he intends to set sail immediately after the ceremony leaving her to endure – alone – the pity of so-called friends. Not likely!
Luke warns her the voyage will be long and arduous but she insists on sailing with him. She is green and vomiting before they even board the ship but will not be deterred. All he can do is ensure she constantly drink to replenish the loss of liquid and wrap her in blankets against the cold air.
Yet against all odds they become friends on the ship and when they set up home in Tahiti. Their friendship deepens in a culture far different than they had known, and over the years becomes abiding love as they experience more joy than either had thought possible, more grief than either could bear alone.


London, 1803

“Who is that man?”

“Which man?”

“The tall one – with dark hair and eyes.”

“There are lots of tall men here! Many of them have dark hair and every one of them has eyes!”

“But only one with eyes searching the room feverishly as if all will be lost if he fails to find what he is looking for.”

Miss Hester Urquhart and her best friend Lady Deborah Appleby had stopped their slow promenade around the edge of the Pilkington’s dance floor to whisper behind fans they fluttered with well-taught delicacy. It was generally agreed by the guardians of polite society that these two young ladies had risen like cream to the top of the vast quantity of milky maids in London during their very first season: their deportment was perfect, their behaviour demure, their conversation proper. And more than one eligible male had taken notice.

“Oh – that man. Mmm – he is rather handsome, is he not? He is the Wainwright heir. You know, the Earl of Darlinghurst’s cousin ninth removed or some such. The only surviving male in that illustrious family of his. Not that he has ever shown more than a passing interest in the family, except for a desultory attempt to prevent its extinction by pursuing Jane Throgmorton andher fortune. It did not work but perhaps he will have more success now he is returned from the Antipodes.”

“The Antipodes?” Luminous eyes shone with innocent radiance that might – in the right circumstances – darken with passion.

“Yes, Hester, the Antipodes, that land mass at the bottom of the world full of deserts and strange creatures. Apparently he was helping one of the darlings of the botany world collect flowers – hundreds of them. After a while that must have become most tedious -” Deborah followed her pronouncement with the bored sigh she had recently perfected.

For a brief moment Hester almost forgot Deborah as in her mind’s eye she saw the tall, dark-haired figure of Mr Wainwright with his beautiful eyes – which if she were closer to him she would surely be able to confirm were of the deepest blue, sensitive and passionate at the same time – fixed steadfastly on field after field of beautiful flowers of every conceivable hue while above him in an azure sky delicate clouds floated happily towards the horizon. “What sort of flowers is he collecting?” she breathed.

Deborah looked confused. “Is collecting? You mean was collecting, do you not? He was collecting orchids.”


“Yes – apparently orchids grow wild over all the hills around Botany Bay.”

“Deborah! How glorious that sounds and how wonderful it must be to be a man – able to leave everything behind to travel to distant places like Botany Bay and pick armfuls of real orchids.”

Deborah giggled and almost lost the ennui she was trying so hard to perfect. “Unfortunately setting foot on Botany Bay requires a voyage of several months across the oceans of the world, tossing and turning on a narrow cot in a tiny cabin – and regularly losing the contents of your stomach on the floor. I must tell you now, Hester, I am sorry. I cannot find it in my heart to accompany you. You will simply have to find a man who has the wanderlust and travel with him to paradise. I promise faithfully to answer your letters.”

“I think I may have found him.”

Deborah’s fan stopped fluttering as she followed the direction of Hester’s eyes. “Hester – please think carefully before you do anything!” For all her attempted sophistication Lady Deborah was at heart the more compliant of the two. She was also kind-hearted and protective of her far more adventurous friend. “We are no longer children. We have made our come-out. This is not the time for pranks and devil-may-care schemes.”

Hester scarcely heard. Her attention was fixed on Luke Wainwright, who in turn appeared transfixed by one of the dancers who had come to a halt in front of him. “Jane Throgmorton,” Deborah whispered and Hester studied the heiress from behind her fan.

Miss Throgmorton was a most attractive young lady. Her hair fell in perfect golden ringlets over perfect shoulders revealed by an exquisite – if extraordinarily low-cut – gown of palest lemon. Hester could well understand any man, let alone a man who had spent the past years collecting orchids from the hills around Botany Bay, being overwhelmed by such beauty. However more than beauty was needed to make a man happy, she decided. Among her friends Hester had a fine reputation of reading character. It took but an instant to read Miss Throgmorton’s and pronounce judgment.

“He is making a terrible mistake,” Hester said briskly. “Miss Throgmorton may be lovely to look at but she could never make him happy.”

Deborah accepted the verdict without question. Hester was rarely wrong. “Well, we do not need to worry ourselves about Miss Throgmorton and Mr Wainwright because she has allowed herself to fall for the fortune and dubious charms of that elderly libertine Lord Frankton -”

“Poor Mr Wainwright,” Hester sighed. “He has been out of society and free from the wiles of devious women for years. I think we – you and I, Deborah, should prepare a plan to protect him from Miss Throgmorton.”

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Drums - WEB

Title: Drums
Book blurb: 

1825, Polynesia.

Amelia Yorke is a destitute teacher with a petunia in a flower pot outside her dingy cottage in Sydneytown. Guy Richmond is a botanist seeking orchids in the rainforest and heir to vast lands in New South Wales. Each has experienced tragedy.
They are from different worlds and should never have met, yet come together on the deck of a sailing ship overlooking a spectacular tropical lagoon.
Drums on the beach threaten and a man desperately paddles for freedom: a man Amelia has never met but agreed to marry. A man Guy loathes.


1825, Sydneytown 

By the time Amelia Yorke unlatched the tiny window her armpits were soaked in perspiration and she knew something was wrong.

The cottage was stifling and too quiet – the only sound was the whine of flies competing for crumbs of bread scattered over the table. There was no sign of a sodden Mama in crumpled clothes, hair wildly askew, just a sad empty gin bottle on the floor.

Amelia spun around, searching the cramped living space and even smaller scullery beyond as if Mama might magically materialize on the broken sofa. Or on one of the two wooden chairs. Or under the table.

“Where are you, Mama? Are you all right?” she worried aloud before noticing a thin strip of light around the back door. Rushing toward it she pushed the door wide open.

And groaned.

All-too visible was a figure collapsed in front of the privy in a puddle of vomit and worse. One arm was thrown over head, thighs were revealed in a flagrant disarray of bared flesh, mouth agape and doubtless emitting a ghastly procession of snorts and sniffs and snores.


Bile filled Amelia’s mouth as the horror of it all flooded her eyes with tears because it hadn’t always been like this. There had been a time when Mama was happy, when the two of them picked daisies from a much bigger garden and made garlands for their hair. A time before Papa died and Mama found respite from grief in a gin bottle.

Amelia’s eyelids squeezed shut. She longed to stay behind them forever. She wanted to let her thoughts wander to a place where they became dreams – but it was more and more difficult to allow thoughts to wander, and almost impossible to dream. Money was tight and made tighter by Mama’s uncanny ability to find any cache set aside for necessities while time passed pitilessly – in a month it would once again be her birthday, one dreary year giving way to another just as dreary, two-and-thirty giving way to three-and-thirty, another line on her face, less flesh on her bones, less life in the brown eyes that had once been described as “fine”.

Smothering another groan she ran to Mama’s side, dropped to her knees and began to rub her hands. They were oddly stiff and cold on this too hot a day.

“Mama, wake up,” she urged. There was no response.

She tried to lift the comatose body and failed. “You have to help me, Mama. I can’t lift you by myself.”

“Let me help you, Miss Yorke.” Duncan Blowes – his ever increasing impudence was becoming worrisome, his constant scrutiny distasteful. She shivered at the thought of his watery eyes watching her return from the schoolhouse, and of him following her into the cottage and out of the back door to the patch of grass they called a garden. Now she felt his eyes leering down at her, no doubt hoping to glimpse some private part of her body revealed as she tended Mama.

A quick glance along the long line of cottages confirmed no one else was around. His hand was the only one available. Unease must be swallowed.

“Thank you, Mr Blowes.” Amelia forced the words through a tight throat. “Can you help me carry Mama into the cottage? She has had one of her turns.”

He smirked in triumph. “Willingly, my dear. I’m only too happy to help a sweet young lady like you. Your mama’s health must be of constant concern to you.”

Fussing over Mama’s skirts provided an excuse to ignore his comments. Amelia moved to take the weight of the lower now fetid part of Mama’s body while Blowes positioned himself to take her shoulders.

But instead of lifting Mama he gave a long low whistle.

Amelia jerked up her head.

“She’s gone,” he said.


“She’s dead.”

1825, Polynesia


The time for feasting was over. Huge amounts of food had been consumed or spirited away in banana leaves, now the drums primed the guests for the appearance of dancers.

Guy Richmond was quickly aware of the dancers’ erotic spell, summoning a wry smile even as he fidgeted to ease the tightness of his crotch.

Grass skirts hung temptingly low on hips, swaying gently to reveal long legs and tight buttocks. Hips swivelled to the tempo of the drums. Navels demanded attention. Breasts were exposed in a glorious assortment of shapes and sizes to fit the dream of any man. Arms were adorned with sweet-smelling gardenia.

Guy shared a good-natured grin with a young Adonis who had been eyeing a particular fifine with lascivious intent. Sialosi had befriended Guy from the first and probably dreamed of accompanying him when he finally packed up his botanical specimens and moved on.

The grin faded as Guy’s glance rested on another man close by, equally honoured by being seated on a woven mat not far from the chief – and similarly aroused if the contortions of his face were anything to go by. Guy had taken the Reverend Jeremiah Howard in dislike during their first brief interchange, instinctively distrusting him regardless of his showy humility and earnest manners.

The tempo of the drums quickened and the new bride stepped out of the shadows into dazzling sun.

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Perfect Wife For Peregrine Winthrop - WEB


Title: A Perfect Wife for Peregrine Winthrop

Book Blurb:  

1857, Little Chormsby in the South of England, Peregrine’s wedding night is a nightmare. He discovers how very foolish he was to rely on others to find him the perfect helpmate to accompany him across the world. Those others will not have to live with her or sleep with her. He will.
As years pass his worst fears are realised. His marriage is bleak. Colour and passion surround him in Polynesia though there is none in his marriage. No joy. No companionship. He is sustained by his work alone.
Until fate intervenes.


1857 Little Chormsby, in the south of England

My very new wife bids her father good night but says nothing to me. She simply leaves the room and pads along the hall and then up some stairs until her footsteps fade away and all is quiet.

I’m not sure where she has gone, or if I should follow.

I remain where I am, in the silence and gathering gloom. I almost wish my new father-in-law would say something but, as is well-known, he has no small talk – just a booming voice to preach from the pulpit or other places where people collect together.

The silence is so loud it hurts my ears.

My chair gets harder, making it difficult for me not to squirm, and my hands are awkward. They clasp. Then unclasp. And clasp again.

The room darkens but the Crombies are frugal and no candle will be lit until it is impossible to see beyond the distance of a hand.

Shall I stay where I am or do as my wife did – go out of the door and up a flight of stairs to an upper floor? My blood rushes madly hither and thither through my veins, frantically seeking the answer to my dilemma.

Then Reverend Obadiah Crombie’s angular form rises out of his special chair that no one else would ever dare sit in and comes to loom over me. I try to smile in the friendly – but not too friendly – manner incumbent upon a son-in-law of some four hours. And wait.

“Until you sail you will share Marianna’s room,” he intones eventually, as if conducting the last rites rather than proposing that I sleep with his daughter – lie alongside her, skin touching, bodies joined as we consummate our marriage.

Before this moment the thought of sharing a bed, or my body, with Marianna had never occurred to me. Incredible. The closest to thinking of her in amorous terms had been to delight in her name: Marianna. Such a pretty name to have rolling around my mouth and under my tongue – like a luscious strawberry ready to be nibbled with my teeth until my mouth overflows with juice. Thus Reverend Crombie’s suggestion – or command – that I share Marianna’s bed tonight and tomorrow night brings me no joy, and the prospect of uniting my body with hers is … incomprehensible.

I feel almost dead inside, as if my heart is trying to hide, ashamed because of the dreadful mistake I have made and unwilling to forgive me because I have only myself to blame.

And my heart is right.

I should have chosen my own wife myself, not left it to others wiser than me.

“Marianna Crombie is the perfect wife for you, the perfect helpmeet,” some told me. “A little older than you,” others said, “but that’s no great fault. She’s a good Christian woman, hardworking, zealous.”

But none of those wise people will have to live with her. Sleep with her.

They should have known better – as should I.

Mama alone had remained silent – but then she wants more than the perfect helpmeet for me. Mama wants me to know bliss. She is constantly affirming me, hugging me, showering me with huge smacking kisses, with her love streaming out of sparkling eyes the same shade of blue as my own.

I should have taken note of Mama’s silence and looked into her eyes. They would have told me the truth.

My only excuse is that my head was full to the brim with the thought of sailing ships and beautiful tropical islands and preparing myself to bring joy to benighted men and women oppressed by Satan. That meant there was no room for much else, and none for pondering the frequent sharpness of Marianna Crombie’s tone or the tightness taking up permanent residence on her face.

I’m pondering now.

Trapped by a bleak father-in-law in a bleak manse, my only escape is to join an equally bleak wife and honor the vow made mere hours ago:“With my body I thee worship”.

Quite simply, even though she is the perfect wife for someone like me, I find it impossible to connect that vow with Marianna. We have never held hands, let alone kissed – had I attempted such intimacies she would quite properly have rejected me. But I made no such attempt and felt no desire to do so, despite witnessing time and again my friend Jacob Hasselthwaite and now-rounded Rebecca exchanging loving glances and touching one another even in the company of others.

I feel none of Jacob’s obvious longing to share his body with Rebecca – and that bodes ill.

The door of her room squeals in protest as I push it open. Through the gloom I catch sight of my wife on her knees beside a narrow bed. She continues to pray without registering my presence in any way – so I remove my daytime clothing as fast as my nervous fingers will allow, haul on my nightshirt then carefully fold my clothes and put them on a wooden chair.

She is still praying when I sink onto my knees on what presumably is my side of the bed.

Prayer is impossible. I can only pretend.

After a lifetime the floorboards creak and the sheets swish as she slips between them. I remain on my knees wondering how long to wait before joining her.

When at long last I lift the covers and climb into her bed, my wife’s body is on the far side. My brave hand staggers over the sheet to reach for hers.

Straightway it is slapped for its effrontery. Suitably chastened, my hand scrambles back to my side, twitching.

Overcome with exhaustion, I eventually fall asleep, but waken before dawn with an understanding of what my marriage will be.


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Unexpected Hero - WEB

Title:  Unexpected Hero  

Book Blurb:

The South Pacific, 1866. Their parents have been friends for years but Sebastian Churnside and Charity Trescothick have never warmed to each other. He believes she is complacent about living in her parents’ shadow. She believes him to be a cuckoo in the warm family of the seacaptain, though his inability to follow the family tradition of seafaring is because he is violently seasick at first sight of the sea.
But when Charity’s mother dies unexpectedly Sebastian is the only member of his family available. Willingly – if excruciatingly – he sails to her aid and discovers Charity is more than dutiful, just as she discovers he is more than aloof.
Meanwhile Reverend Trescothick accepts he has made a terrible mistake – he should have settled his daughter in Sydney years ago. Now it is too late. He is dying and Charity’s future is insecure. However Sebastian’s coming is a god-send. He can secure Charity’s future, he can marry her and make her a member of the fine Churnside family.
All Trescothick has to do is convince Sebastian and Charity they have a future together.
But there is little time.


The Southern Seas              

September, 1866

The Southern Star glided up and over the vast ocean’s swells, sails plump under an indigo sky, while in the bowels of the ship Sebastian Churnside suffered another explosion of retching and wished he was dead.

He’d loathed every minute at sea. And every excruciatingly cheerful visit of the captain and the ship-boy who emptied his bucket.

He stuffed a ship’s biscuit into his mouth to quieten his grumbling innards.


Swallowed. Straightway his belly balked and a tell-tale gush of fluid flew into his mouth as the biscuit returned to punish him.

Limp, covered in sweat, the patience for which he was renowned was tested to the limit as The Southern Star pitched and turned somersaults on an ocean described by the crew as “calm” when it was anything but. With each passing hour he rued the day he’d succumbed to the pleading of his seafaring father and brothers to play Sir Galahad to the Trescothicks.

He could have helped them without leaving Sydney.

He should have helped them without leaving Sydney.

A scratch on the flimsy pretence of a door interrupted his wild imaginings. “Come in!” he barked, and gagged at the stench of greasy food.

The ship-boy stepped nervously to the foot of the cot. The plate in his hands was piled with bacon. “Are you ready for your breakfast, sir?”

Sebastian groaned.

Makatea, three days later.


“Let me finish, Charity, I beg you.” Desperation gave Reverend Richard Trescothick strength to grasp his daughter’s arm and shake it. “There’s so little time. I want you to leave on the ship and I need your promise you won’t marry him, no matter what happens.”

Charity patted the hand gripping her arm. “Don’t distress yourself like this, Papa. I am staying here with you and nothing you say will dissuade me. Pastor Ikiua will watch over me and Moale will stay with me until the next ship comes. As for McKenzie, I promise you nothing would persuade me to accept his proposal. Don’t forget I saw how he treated poor Mrs McKenzie. I would never put myself in her position.”

He sighed and loosened his grip, and as his eyelids drooped Charity rubbed her arm.

Moale caught her eye and nodded at the pandanus mat flap, a signal to leave, to finish her letters, to go down to the beach.

Smiling mute thanks, Charity left.

On the verandah she dropped heavily onto the chair behind the old wooden table. In front of her was the letter she had been writing to her brother ready to send on the ship. Don’t worry about me, dearest Oliver, I am well able to cope with everything here, she had written

It was a lie. She had no idea how to get through the next hour, let alone the next days.

Her straw bonnet, all frayed round the edges, waited at the end of the table. She stood up and grabbed it, tied it under her chin, lips quivering she came to a standstill.

These were the last letters the ship would ever bring Papa, the last letters he would read. The yearning to flop down and bury her head in her arms was almost impossible to resist. She put a hand on her chest while she fought and won a battle against temptation, then straightening her shoulders she stepped down from the verandah, out of the shade of the mission house into the burning sun where it was safe for tears to fall.

It was even hotter on the beach, all hazy heat and high excitement. Leis by the hundred were piled up on the sand, adding gardenia to the heady mix of coconut oil and aromas of fish and pawpaw drifting down from umu.

An old crone lifted her eyebrows in greeting and asked Fano ki fe, Misi Saliti – where are you going, Miss Charity? Charity clenched her jaw lest she answer I don’t know. I don’t know anything. But there was no time to reflect as villagers gathered around her wanting to know if Papa wasmalolo, if he had slept well, if she needed any more help.

The questions were curiously comforting, as was being with the many people who had cared for Papa and had known her all her life.

And more villagers were still arriving – pushing, shoving, squeezing into non-existent spaces, raising eyebrows in greeting, slapping backs. Chatter was focused on what would happen after the feast when everyone had eaten their fill and wrapped food in banana leaves to take home, when the drums began and the fifine sauntered onto the grass wearing garlands of frangipani and gardenia.

Speculation was rife about the sailors’ reactions to sparkling eyes and glistening skin and long limbs revealed by swaying grass skirts. Men and women alike bellowed estimates of the sailors’ virility and the fifine’s fecundity, made generous guesses about the size of the sailors’ most private parts and the quality of seed that would flow when they coupled with fifine under the moon. Fantasies proliferated about the creation of babies with golden skin and strong new blood.

And all the while children ran amok and got cuffed for their pains, fifine tossed thick waist-length hair over shoulders to more perfectly reveal pert breasts, and fuata hung about in small groups rippling biceps and starting mock-fights. Two of the fuata waded across the jagged bed of the lagoon to the very edge of the reef and stood buffeted by the swell, staring at the ship, dreaming dreams of bygone years when their ancestors navigated the vast Pacific.

The sun was rising rapidly. People used what little shade there was and when none remained they covered themselves in a wild assortment of leafy concoctions and strange hats.

But no one departed – how could they when there was so much going on, so many people to talk to, so much to see on the beach and the crowded sea beyond the reef. Virtually every canoe in the village had been launched as soon as the ship billowed into the bay. Now most of those canoes had already crossed the lagoon and were  over the reef circling The Southern Star and creating mayhem.

This ship was expected. Unlike the marauding ships it was known and trusted. It was welcomed.

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Author biography:

I grew up in the east end of London and then went where my husband’s work took him. We spent almost a decade in Polynesia before coming to live in New Zealand. “Our” small island was surrounded by never-ending sea and first inhabited years ago as Polynesians left “Havaiiki” in search of something better or simply different. They travelled on fragile trimarans should have sunk but survived the long voyage and they eventually found strings of glorious islands and atolls rising out of the sea.

Our travelling was easier. We flew from London to Fiji then sailed on over a spectacular Pacific Ocean. Our two small children vomited all the way and I vowed I would never move again: wherever we landeed we’d stay forever, I told myself and anyone else prepared to listen. But we arrived and were welcomed generously with a feast of food I’d only read about followed by singing and dancing and hand movements of extraordinary beauty.

I discovered for myself Polynesians were courageous people, intelligent and beautiful with a lusty appreciation of the physical and a very different set of values to those I knew and accepted as did the teachers, plumbers, nurses and doctors who were part of our expatriate community. Beliefs about sensuality and promiscuity were miles apart. Polynesians knew how to grieve and to experience joy, they took it for granted everything was to be shared whereas “sharing” was tantamount to theft to the Europeans. Put simply, Polynesians thought this was right and this was wrong and Europeans often thought the opposite. I had to learn that values were often simply (and painfully!) different, and accept a generosity that at times was overwhelming. For example one of the busiest women I’ve ever met was the pastor’s wife. A lot was expected of her from the villagers, she had a large family to care for yet at sunset found time to sit with me on her balcony and give me language lessons.

Eight years later my husband was offered work in New Zealand and it felt right to move on. Our children went to high school and I went back to work. Then a new chapter in my life began: a good friend enrolled at university and I followed her.

Some years later our daughter and children moved to Christchurch. I couldn’t get my practice going in a different city. I remembered a strange dream I had and decided I’d write a book. I didn’t know how difficult that would be! I didn’t give up, and I’m pleased about that.

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My Once and Future Love Revisited Series by @carlakrae #NA #RockFiction #Romance

new Kissed cover

Book Title – Kissed (My Once and Future Love Revisited #1)

Author Name – Carla Krae

Genre – New adult contemporary romance

Book Blurb:

One kiss ignites chemistry and passion they can’t ignore, but is this only a summer fling?

Neighbors. Best friends. It was only a crush Beth harbored for Jacob until she was eighteen. Until London.

Neighbors. Best friends. That was all Jacob thought of her until London. Until she kissed him and stole his heart.

It’s funny what Geometry class and a shared backyard wall can bring about. With a two-year age difference, Beth and Jacob were firmly in the Friend Zone during high school, but a pre-college trip to London will change their lives forever.

KISSED is the first of five books in the MY ONCE AND FUTURE LOVE REVISITED series exploring Beth and Jacob’s relationship with all its joys, flaws, and heartache.

New Adult Contemporary Romance saga. This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.


At twenty now, Jacob’s body had matured since Beth last saw him two years ago.  His shoulders were broader and he was no longer adolescently skinny.  The bleach had grown out to only being on the tips of his hair.

“Ah, there you are,” his mother said.

He turned around.  “Bethie!”  The biggest smile she’d ever seen spread across his face.  With two strides, he wrapped his arms around her and twirled her around.  “What are you doing here, love?”

“Surprising you.”

He set her down and backed up to arms-length to look at her.  “Bloody hell, you changed in two years.”

Her cheeks turned crimson.  “A little bit.”

“Little! You barely fit under my chin now. How was graduation?”

“Salutatorian. Got beaten out for first in class by a tenth of a grade point.”

“Aww,” he teased.  “Want me to beat ‘im up?”

“It was a her, and no, but thanks for the offer. Should I ask about your grades?”

He coughed.  “Maybe later.”  Same ol’ Jacob.

God, he looked good.  His face had matured a bit, too, bringing out his cheekbones.  His skin was paler than in California, but no less attractive.  Today was Saturday, and he wore a tee and low-slung jeans with a studded belt through the loops.  Only man she knew who refused to wear shorts unless at the beach.

“Come eat, kids.”

He took her hand and led her into the dining room.  What Vivian called “brunch” was no simple spread.  The polished table probably sat twelve and was set with china and sterling silver flatware.

“Is this what they mean by an English breakfast?”  Several serving dishes were spread before us.

“That you can stuff yourself silly on a good fry-up? Pretty much,” he said.

“A little variety never hurt anyone,” his mother said.  She sat at the head of the table, her plate already filled.

He handed Beth a plate and asked, “How long do I get to keep you?”

Forever, her heart answered, but her rational side said, “Uh, I’m not sure? I have to be at UCLA in September, but your mom made the travel arrangements.”

“Well, any mother that brings me a Bethie present earns my everlasting devotion.”

She shook her head, but said, “You’re welcome, dear, though this is just as much for Elizabeth, if not more so. Traveling abroad diversifies a young woman’s education.”

He sat down with his pile of food.  “On that note, you have to come see us play tonight.”

Beth smiled.  “I’d love to. I brought the t-shirt.”  She sat to his right since he’d chosen the corner seat next to his mother.

Her internal clock thought it was three in the morning.  Mrs. Lindsey, on the other hand, was still bushy-tailed.  Beth didn’t know how she did it.  With eggs, fruit, pastries, and sausage in my belly, she felt like another nap.  A yawn escaped her mouth while they caught up.  Embarrassed, her hand flew up to her lips to hide it.

He poked her side.  “I heard that.”

“I’m sorry. My body thinks it’s the middle of the night.”

“Aww, past Bethie’s bed time?” he teased.

“Shut up. You’ve had jet lag before.”

“Not my fault you didn’t plan your flight around your natural schedule.”

“In the same room thirty minutes and you’re picking on me.”  She propped her chin on her hand.  “Hmm, why did I miss you again?”

He leaned closer, blue eyes sparkling.  “’Cause I’m irresistible. A magnet for females young and old.”

“Watch it,” his mother and Beth said in unison.

He laughed, and stretched in his chair.  “So easy.”

Beth hit him with her napkin and stood to take her empty plate into the kitchen.

“Elizabeth. Someone will take care of that for you,” Vivian said.

“Pffft, nonsense. No offense, but I carry my own weight.”

She brought the dirty dishes into the kitchen and set them by the sink, then looked for the dishwasher.  All she saw were drawers.  Well, fine, guess she’d do it by hand.  Yeah, she had a bit of guilt over the cost of bringing her here.  Even though it was obvious now Mrs. Lindsey could afford it and then some, she still didn’t feel right letting her staff wait on her hand and foot.  She didn’t incur debts.

“Love, what are you doing?” Jacob asked behind her, amused.

“Washing my dishes, duh.”

“Looks like you’re puttin’ someone out of work.”


He took the glass from her hand.  “They’re paid to do a job, Bethie. They’re not slaves.”

“I know that.”

“Then remember you’re on vacation and relax.”

Hard to do when he smelled so good.  “You haven’t called in a long time.”

“Keep me busy, school and the band. Lose track of the days.”

She glanced down at his wrist.  “It’d help if you wore a watch.”

He nodded once, conceding her point.  “Probably. Wanna see my world, or do you need that nap?”

“I can make do with caffeine.”  After two years away, he wasn’t getting out of her sight.

He grinned.  “Brilliant. See you out front.”  He walked out.

She found a Coke in the refrigerator, took it up to her room, and freshened up, slammed the soft drink, belched (oops), and grabbed her purse/camera bag.  Mrs. Lindsey wished her a good time on the way out.

Beth stopped short when she saw his mode of transportation.  “Nuh-uh.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” he said from the bike.

“It’s a motorcycle. And I remember how you drive.”

He held up a second helmet.  “Don’t you trust me, Bethie?”

Oh, not the pout…damn him.  She took the helmet and stuck it on her head.  “If you kill me, I’m haunting you forever.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Hold on tight and you’ll be fine.”

Hold on tight, eh?  To what?  He climbed on the bike and looked back at her expectantly.  She straddled the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Put your feet on those little pegs,” he said.  She did.  He pulled her arms further around his middle.  “Tighter. You’ll fly backward when I accelerate with a grip that loose.”


He started the motorcycle.  She had a death grip.  Oh-god-oh-god

When he made it roll forward, she hid her face between his shoulder blades.  Air started moving very fast past her body.

Sorry, Mom and Dad

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new Betrayed cover

Book Title – Betrayed (My Once and Future Love Revisited #2)

Book Blurb:

When Beth’s life falls apart, the only way she can bear the pain is by constructing walls of anger and bitterness to shield her broken heart. Five years later, Jacob is the world’s newest, hottest rock star and running into him in a twenty-four-hour market is the last thing she wanted or expected. The biggest surprise? He has an offer she can’t refuse.

Betrayed is the second book in the My Once and Future Love Revisited series exploring Beth and Jacob’s relationship with all its joys, flaws, and heartache.

New Adult Contemporary Romance saga. This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.


Chapter One


Bright light hit Jacob’s face.  He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and rolled over to hide from the sun.  Long hair tickled his nose.  What the…?

Beth.  As the haze of sleep cleared from his mind, he remembered the night before, and falling asleep sated and holding her.  She’d rolled onto her side away from him, the sheet tucked under her chin.  He reached up and pulled the drapes closed above his bed, shutting out the offending light, and cuddled up to her back.

“Mmm…what time is it?” she mumbled.

“Don’t know. Sun’s up.”

She squirmed her hips forward an inch.  “Quit poking me.”

“Morning wood. Can’t help it.”


He grinned and snuggled closer again.  Holding her was really comfortable.  He could get used to this.  “Will you be missed?”

“Nah. It’s Saturday.”  She rolled partially onto her back.  “We do our own thing in the morning.”

He kissed her nose.  “Good. Rather sleep in.”

She smiled.  “We were up late.”

“Mmm.”  He put his head down on his pillow.  “Starting to like this weekend trend, Miss Lawson.”

She rolled to face him.  “Me, too.”

If she let him, he’d keep her in bed until their stomachs made too much noise to ignore.  They’d christened his bed in a hell of a fashion, only stopping when she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.  He pulled the sheet over their bodies, wrapped his arms around her with her head on his shoulder, and that was the last thing he remembered.  Fell right to sleep for the first time in days.

Her eyes were closed again.

“You asleep, love?”

“No,” she said, and yawned.  “Sorry. Probably have morning breath.”


She opened her eyes.  “How long are you here?”

“Long as it takes to box everything up.”

“Are you going to miss the house?”

A fair question.  He’d lived here more years than he hadn’t.  “Some. I’ll miss climbin’ over your wall more.”

She smiled.  “A lot of memories in two years. I’ll miss your mom being next door, too. You’ll both be so far away.”

He kissed her pout.  “I’ll miss comin’ back to the ol’ place, no question. When I left for uni, I thought I missed England…and I did, but L.A. might tip the scale of home a bit more.”  He laced their fingers together.  “And now there’s you.”


He kissed her before she started crying, before he laid his heart out too soon, and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.  She moaned into his mouth, her hand clutching his shoulder.  He loved her soft skin, especially when there was so much of it available to his fingers, and stroked her back, over her ass, and down her thigh.  She curled her leg over his hip.

She broke away from the kiss.  “Do you have any more…?”  Her brows rose, and he caught her meaning.

“Don’t know.”  He grinned.  “Last night was intense.”

She smiled back, but her cheeks turned pink.  “Uh-huh.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sleepy. And hungry.”

He brushed her hair behind her ear.  “Could see what’s around for breakfast.”

Her nose wrinkled up.  “You can move.”

“I spend eleven hours on a plane and you want to be waited on?” he teased.

“Yup.”  She popped the “p” at the end.

Now he was thinking about food, his stomach started gurgling.  “Fine…but don’t think this’ll be a habit, missy.”  He got out of bed and grabbed his jeans.

She watched him pull them on, her hand propping her head up on the pillow.  Though he knew he was a good-looking bloke, it thrilled him to see her admire him so blatantly.  Put a bit more cock into his walk.  He left the jeans unbuttoned.

The refrigerator was mostly bare, his mother making sure she didn’t come back to a rotting kitchen.  Too bad there was no milk for cereal…

Beth never thought she’d be naked in this bed listening to Jacob hum in the kitchen.  Even through all the years of wanting him to kiss her, she never thought further than I’d trust him to be my first.  Now, she was thoroughly twitterpated, and had sex over two nights with her best friend, the change in their relationship just hours shy of two weeks old.


But awesome.  This week would’ve been a lot harder without him answering her calls.

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new Forgiven cover

Book Title – Forgiven (My Once and Future Love Revisited #3)

Book Blurb:

Five years after their attempt at dating crashed and burned, a struggling Beth went to work for rock-star Jacob as his personal assistant. At first, they’re almost friends, but as Jacob becomes the stereotypical hard-partying musician, a wedge builds between them that could be permanent.

When a car accident sidelines Beth with weeks of recovery, she takes it as a sign to change her life and resigns, but Jacob has other plans. He’s still in love with her and won’t give up until she gives him a second chance.

Can Beth and Jacob forgive all the pain they caused each other in the past?

FORGIVEN is the third book in the My Once and Future Love Revisited series exploring Beth and Jacob’s relationship with all its joys, flaws, and heartache.

New Adult Contemporary Romance saga. This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.


Beth came back out to run face-first into Jacob’s chest.  “Sorry.”  Oh, God…he still smells like Obsession.

He shrugged.  “How’d you sleep?”

“It’s a strange bed, but I’m okay. You?”

“I can sleep on a rock, remember?”

Vividly.  “A lot can change in five years.”

“Not everything.”  There was a strange light in his eyes that made her shiver.

“I guess.”  Her lust for things Jacob-shaped certainly hadn’t gone away.  “Well, I left my plate, so…”

“Of course.”  He pressed his body flat against the wall to let her by.

Lesson the second: the guys didn’t care if they ate breakfast in their underwear in front of her.  Jacob wore sweatpants and Dylan had a t-shirt on, but the other three were only in boxers.  Guess she should be grateful no one slept in the nude.

They had showers at the venues, so at least they wouldn’t have to deal with that awkwardness.  She didn’t care where she had to go—she wasn’t going to bathe in earshot of six men.


“Huh?”  Caught with my mind wandering again.

“How much longer are we stuck on this thing?” Jacob asked.

“’Til noon, maybe.”  They groaned.  “Watch TV or something. This thing came with entertainment.”

They split between watching a DVD and playing Playstation 3, Jacob taking his guitar to the back.

She followed and checked her laptop for e-mails.  “Working on something new?” she asked.

“Kinda. There’s pressure, you know, after a debut. Everybody asks when the next album will come as soon as the first is on the shelves.”


“Eh, goes with the territory. But they won’t push unless we take a year to start recording demos again.”

She looked up from her screen.  “You like all this?”

He nodded right away.  “Hell yeah. Livin’ the dream.”

“I just wondered if it’s what you hoped for.”

“I know. I think it helped that it didn’t come instantly. I wasn’t ready for the commitment at eighteen.”

Or twenty.  But she wasn’t going to touch that subject.

Once they got inside the venue, it was go-go-go.  Sacramento was the first gig.  The band did some press while the tech guys set up, then sound checks started.  They dialed it in some, did a half-hour rehearsal, tweaked it some more, and broke for lunch.  She got their stage clothes in the dressing rooms and made sure Jacob’s rider was adhered to.  The show would start at seven o’clock, no warm-up act.

If she’d forgotten how kinetic Jacob was before, she’d never forget again.  Her feet hurt by six from staying at his side.  She finally got to sit while he showered, then watched him get ready.  He wore leather pants and a sleeveless vintage tee.  Concentrating on his image in the mirror, he applied black eyeliner, then spiked his hair straight up.

“Crunchy,” she teased.

“Hey, they like it.”

“Whatever sells tickets.”

Once he was finally satisfied, he stood and turned to face her.  “Well?”

Gorgeous as ever.  Not trusting her voice, she gave a thumb’s up.

He kissed her cheek on the way out.  “Thanks, love.”

She felt his breath on her skin more than his lips, but it still left her stunned.  Shaking her head clear, she ran after him to watch from the wings.

The band played their intro to his hit single.  He waited, bouncing on his toes, until a second before the lyrics started, then ran out, grabbed the microphone, and instantly had the crowd in his hand.

My god

He’d always been a good performer, but now…the confidence, the control, the charisma.  They ate him up.  Women screamed and tried to grab his feet when he neared the stage’s edge.

It was the first time Beth heard the whole album.

You know how women think it’d be sweet or romantic to have a song written about them?  Not so much in real life.  Not when she was the villain of half the set.  Her body debated between throwing up and fleeing in tears.  If any of his fans found out she was the girl in those break-up songs, she couldn’t show her face in public again.

He sang for over an hour and they demanded an encore.  He ran off the stage and grabbed her in a sweaty hug.  “Do you hear that?”

“It’s deafening. Go! Give them what they want.”  What was with all the touching?

They screamed when he came back.  She watched him say something to Bob, then he approached the audience.  “Okay, okay. Two more songs.”  They groaned en masse.  “I’m outta songs, guys! Seriously, you’ve been beautiful. Goodnight, Sacramento. Thank you!”

The band left after the encore, running for the dressing rooms whooping and hollering over their success.

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new Loved cover

Book Title – Loved (My Once and Future Love Revisited #4)

Book Blurb:

After Beth’s car accident, the truth came out about why she pushed Jacob out of her life and she realized she made a terrible mistake. Jacob declared his love, Beth agreed to date, but this relationship has to be on her terms.

Beth witnessed Jacob’s bad side first-hand while working for him and trust needs to be rebuilt. Add to that the pressure of paparazzi, and she’s understandably gun-shy.

Jacob told Beth he loves her, but her feelings are still a mystery. Building a relationship requires something he’s never been good at—patience. Can he give her the time she needs to see he has changed, or will he push too hard for those three little words and drive her away?

Loved is the fourth book in the My Once and Future Love Revisited series exploring Beth and Jacob’s relationship with all its joys, flaws, and heartache.

New Adult Contemporary Romance saga. This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.


There were voices in the hall.

Beth ignored them.  It was only her sister-in-law Darcy, and Dad.  Darcy got up with the baby, and Daddy never slept past 6:00AM unless he was deathly ill.  She wished they’d move further away from her room, though.  She wasn’t a deep sleeper.

Managing to drift off again, she didn’t notice when someone opened the door a couple hours later.  They crept in, leaving the door ajar, and sat down by the side of the bed near her face, waiting for her to sense their presence.

Patience must’ve been short.  “Buh! Buh, Buh!”

Beth yawned.  “Hey, munchkin…how’d you get in here?”  Baby Sarah smiled a toothless grin and gurgled happily.  “Hey, somebody? Escapee baby in here!”

She didn’t have her glasses on and rolled over when a male figure came in to get Sarah.  The door closed a second later.  “Too early for Christmas,” she mumbled in the darkness.

“It’s nearing nine, lazy bones,” a voice softly said.

Can’t be…  “I’m dreaming…”

“In Rudolph pajamas?” the voice countered.

Her eyes shot open.  “It’s possible.”

“Is it possible to dream with you, love?”


Beth rolled over and came face-to-face with the source.  Only one person in the world called her “love” like that!  “Are you here?” she whispered, afraid she really was dreaming.

“You tell me,” he said, then kissed her.  A kiss of two months’ pent-up passion.

She felt tears running down her face, but she wasn’t going to let him go for a second to wipe them away.  He seemed to read her thought, his hands coming up to her face, his thumbs brushing the tracks away under her eyes.  She slid off the bed into his lap, wrapping her body around his.  “How?” she gasped into his mouth.

Jacob only pulled back far enough to break the kiss.  “I had to come. We’re on traveling days, and I finally said screw it—we’re going to see our families one damn bloody day out of the year. You have me for twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll take it! God, I’ve missed you!”

He kissed her again.  “Missed you, too…so much. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Bethie…”  He said her name with enough reverence to break her heart.  “Again?”

“I love you, Jacob.”  Huh, not so scary the second time.  “I have for so long. I just didn’t have the words.”

“Think your dad would kill me if I shagged you right now?”

She giggled.  “Save it for later, big boy. I don’t want an audience.”

He sighed, then she felt him smile as wide as his face would go.  “Happy Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Mmm. Best Christmas ever.”

They would’ve stayed wrapped around each other on the guest bedroom floor indefinitely, but it was only a few minutes later when someone coughed very loudly outside the door.  Point taken, they reluctantly parted.

Beth opened the door to find her whole family eavesdropping in the hall.  “Something I can help you with?”

“Nope, just passing by,” Darcy said, then winked.

Dad looked very relieved to find them both still fully clothed.  Beth stifled a laugh as they went back to the living room.  Jacob glanced at her and snickered, just as amused.

“Get dressed, woman. I have presents.”

She pouted.  “But yours is at home.”

“Correction, I already got mine.”

She blushed.  “Oh. Yeah. Gee, if I’d known you were that easy to please…”

“Hush, vixen, or I withhold your gifts until next Christmas.”

Miming zipping her lips shut, she batted her eyelashes, trying to look innocent.  He rolled his eyes and wagged his finger at her.  She stepped back in the bedroom and closed the door before he could tickle her into submission.

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New Dylan and Jen cover

Book Title – Dylan and Jen (a My Once and Future Love Revisited story)

Book Blurb:

Dylan is the bassist for Jake Lindsey’s band, but not when he’s in his hometown. It’s Christmas Eve and a sudden, strong blizzard has left the mountain submerged in snow, wrecking his plan to drive back to Los Angeles in time to attend Jake and Beth’s party Christmas Day.

Jennifer’s family was coming to spend the holiday at her cabin, but the storm is keeping them off the mountain. Resigned to entertaining herself for the night, she’s startled by someone pounding on her front door–a handsome man needing shelter from the storm. Dylan is sweet, funny, and so damn hot she can’t resist learning what he has to offer.

Was this a single night of passion, or the beginning of lasting love?

This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.

My Once and Future Love Revisited series stand-alone story.


Dylan plucked his thumb on the strings, checking their tune, then started playing a combination of embellished scales.  At least to Jennifer’s knowledge, he was really good.  He pushed his sleeves up a bit, revealing toned forearms with corded muscles that twitched and flexed when he played.  Then he started humming something she didn’t know and switched melodies.  Soft words escaped his lips, like he couldn’t help singing it instead of merely humming along.  A smooth pretty baritone that made her tummy flutter.

She stared as he lost himself in the music, his eyes closed and head bobbing in time.  It had turned into an intimate moment.  She was sure he’d forgotten he had an audience and…wow, was it hot in here?  “I’m glad your guitar wasn’t damaged.”

He stopped playing and cleared his throat.  “Yeah. Seems okay. Thanks.”  He grinned, then.  “Any requests, milady?”

“Oh, um, I wouldn’t know what… I mean, I don’t listen to much, so… My knowledge is pretty much limited to boy bands and pop princesses of the ‘90s.”

“You really haven’t been a fan of something since high school?”  He looked at her like the concept didn’t compute.

She shrugged and turned away to the cookies.  “I had other things to do.”  She heard him put the guitar away.

“Like write books.”

“Uh-huh. Crafting a story is…engrossing. Or it used to be.”

He joined her for a cookie.  “Muse run off?”

“Like it couldn’t escape fast enough.”

He leaned his forearms on the kitchen counter.  “Maybe you need a change of scenery. Or experience. Shake things up. When I get stuck on a song, I try something I’ve never done before.”

She looked up and met his eyes.  They were prairie sky blue.  “What did you do?”

“The first thing that crossed my mind. Sometimes it got me in trouble, but it was still worth it.”

She propped her chin up with her hand.  “What kind of trouble?”

He grinned, showing off sexy dimples.  “Anything from women to getting arrested. Did some stupid shit at nineteen.”

She giggled.  “Doesn’t everybody?”

He leaned closer.  “I sense a story there, Ms. Donovan.”

Jennifer dropped her gaze and peeked at him through her lashes.  “Well, I did the sorority thing, right? And there are dares, you know, to get in.”  She shook her head.  “I can’t, it’s too embarrassing.”

“Would I find pictures on the Web?” he teased.

“Oh, god, no…nothing that scandalous. Forget it… I’ve just met you! Oh, gee, that fire’s getting pretty low.”  She darted around him to go get more firewood, only to be stopped when he grabbed her hand.  The contact sent a jolt up her arm like an electric zap.

“I’ll share if you will.”

“Share what?”  Her breath came out in a breathy whisper.

“Something old.”  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  “Or something new.”

Distance would be good. 

Moving away any time now. 

This was me, moving. 

Why weren’t my feet working, dammit?

She hadn’t shared chemistry with anyone since Lee, and he’d stopped wanting her in bed months before his death.  This close to Dylan, she couldn’t deny his looks were, well…gorgeous.  What was this man doing to her?  He stood there, still holding her hand, eyes locked with hers.  Was he waiting for something?


A kind smile graced his face, and he let her off the hook.  “You’re right. The fire is almost out. Do you have more wood handy?”

“I-in the snow room.”

He nodded and left to get it.  Her hand started to cool immediately and felt empty.  He rushed back inside with a couple logs in his arms and shut the door, hopping on his toes.


She laughed.  “Serves you right for going out there barefoot.”

He crossed the living room to the hearth.

The movie was almost over.  Had they really been talking that long?

“I should check on your clothes.”

“Okay.”  He kept poking the fire.

The dryer probably buzzed while he was playing.  His jeans and socks were dry.  She left his sweater draped flat on top of the machine.

“Here you go. Nice and warm.”

He grabbed the socks and pulled them on.  “Ahhh…now that’s a beautiful thing.”

Still sitting on the floor, he leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out.  She sat on the hearth rug Indian-style and stared into the flames.  This Christmas Eve wasn’t so bad so far.

She didn’t look at him, though.  That would mean seeing how his tight tee showed the definition in his torso and biceps, and the sliver of tummy revealed between his shirt and the low-riding sweatpants.  It meant noticing the twinkle of his eyes, the modelesque cheekbones, and the lower lip just waiting to be bitten.  Any writer would ascribe his looks to one of her heroes.

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Author Biography:

Fiction writer. Sci-fi lover. Trained vocalist. Cat mom. Debuting in 2011, Carla Krae lives in California with two crazy cats and a tech guy.

Connect with Carla Krae:


Twitter: Carla Krae

Facebook: Carla Krae Author Page

I’d Like to Introduce You to… @VictoriaPittsC #Romance #Mystery #Egypt

I have an affinity for archaeology and Egypt. I think it goes back to when I was in grade school and we went to the Natural History Museum. It was the first time I saw a mummy and ancient artifacts. I instantly wanted to know more. When I come across a book series that blends my love of Ancient Egypt and archaeology, I jump at the chance to read it. Author Victoria Pitts Caine has a wonderful trilogy and she is here to talk about her book series. She agreed to sit down with me for an author interview and I’m thrilled to introduce you to her. Take it away, Victoria!

Do you have any odd writing habits?

I like to think it out while I walk. Weather permitting that can be up to a four mile hike down the canal bank in back of my house. There have been lots of stories flushed out on those walks.

If you could cast your characters in the Hollywood adaptation of your book, who would play your characters?

Harrison Ford

Amy Adams

What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

Don’t ever give up. Take every rejection as a stepping stone. Somewhere someone is going to like your work as much as you do.

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

I recently squeezed out a little corner in my guest bedroom for a desk and my computer. I’d shared an office with my hubby for years. I like the way the light comes in just right in the morning as the room takes on the new day.

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

I have three published novels and two novellas. I also have several pieces in anthologies.

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

I’m working on a contemporary romance with a mystery/suspense twist. It is set in the South and involves gold lost during the Civil War.

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

No, I don’t drink or smoke. Chocolate and Diet Pepsi does it for me.

If you had a superpower, what would it be?

I would like to be invisible. That would be ever so convenient for a writer.

What secret talents do you have?

I taught myself how to do the ancient of art gemstone wire wrapping.

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

I want to go to Hawaii. I was actually there once on a layover and in customs, so I didn’t get out of the airport.

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

I think I’d like to be a cat. Sleep in the sun and be playfully arrogant.

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

I was a tomboy. I liked to fish, I could shoot a pistol and hit the bull’s-eye at fifty feet (as a teenager) and I loved to play outside. The toy I remember the most was a stuffed toy – a black kitten.

The Trilogy


Book Title Alvarado Gold (Book 1)

Genre Inspirational Romance/Mystery Suspense

Book Blurb

As the hot, oppressive Texas heat takes the breath from her lungs, Addie Brown stands at her grandfather’s grave. Deep within her, she senses her anchor to family is gone. She looks across the freshly dug chasm at three of her four cousins. Nothing more than smiling faces on Christmas cards and vacation photos, she remembers once when they were close but something happened.

Snapping her back to reality, the minister reads, To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven. She wonders when will be my time? But Addie has bargained with God and lost and she feels she can never share her secret with anyone. But through an unusual turn of events, she realizes there is a truth and meaning to the passage from Ecclesiastes that begins to drive her life.

Exclusive Excerpt 

I backed up against the doorway to my room, shaken. My insides quivered. I always thought I was tough enough to stand up to anyone. I’d just about proven myself wrong. If it hadn’t been for Gary showing up when he did, I’d… Gary. I thought he’d betrayed me but yet he’d shown up as my rescue. First, I assumed it was a convenient set up between the two of them. But Donnie didn’t appear to know him or, at least, pretended not to. It was going to take…what did Grandpa call it? A leap of faith. If I was going to let myself trust him, I needed to apologize.

“Are you all right?” Gary surveyed my torn shirt.

“Yeah. I think my shoulder is scraped up, that’s all. Gary, I owe you an apology.”

“It’s okay, Addie.” He came closer to me and looked at my shoulder. “You just wouldn’t let me explain.”

I moved back and resisted his touch. “We can’t move this mountain all at once, Gary. There’s a lot we don’t know about each other. Everything moved too quickly. Then, I made a mess of it all.”

Gary’s lips softened into a sincere smile. I could have melted in his arms right then but this time it had to be right.

“What do you want, Addie? I’ll give you the moon.”

“Peace. That’s what I want. All this precariousness between Donnie and the rest of us when all I wanted was to find my family. Then there is the gold and the problems it started. Susan sprained her ankle in a fall while we were in the cave. I can’t help but think that’s my fault, too.”

“Addie. Don’t take the whole world on your shoulders.” He reached out and I let him draw me into the fold of his arms. He held me close. The smell of Brut and fabric softener filled my consciousness. I let my troubles fall away. I could have stayed there forever. A time to keep silent.


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Book Title Cairo (Book 2)

Genre Inspirational Romance/Mystery Suspense

Book Blurb

Liz McCran and Donnie Barnes travel to Cairo, Egypt, in search of Addie and Gary Wright, who were asked to deliver a mysterious envelope. Within days of their arrival, the couple has vanished. When Liz locates the Wright’s contact, Mr. Moustafa, she receives the first of several riddles.

Rayhan Shenouda, an Egyptian working at the American Embassy, agrees to help but his desire is to win Liz’s heart. Following his traditional customs, and much to her surprise, he proposes within days of their meeting.

Will the Wrights be found? Can Rayhan and Liz’s love withstand an inevitable collision of cultures and customs? Or will it all end at the hands of a nomad insurgent named Ahmad?


Exclusive Excerpt 

An overhead speaker announced the flight had landed and Rayhan moved into position near the arrival gate. Mr. Aston had told the Americans they could identify Rayhan by the official American Embassy sign he carried. The board, not much larger than a sheet of legal paper, rested in his hands. He stood with ardent awareness, a smile plastered on his face.

Passengers came down the ramp in a slow string of twenty or thirty from customs and into the lobby. An American couple walked through the door, ending the procession. The woman stood behind the gentleman and when she spotted Rayhan, she raised her hand, indicating they were who he waited for. The gentleman moved aside and Rayhan’s eyes drank in her small, delicate features. She glanced in his direction and he startled himself when he gasped. He memorized every feature. She stood a hint over five feet, small-boned, but fit. Her short, dark hair suited her oval face, and her porcelain skin appeared almost translucent in contrast. He forced his eyes away from her when the gentleman spoke.

“I’m Donnie Barnes, and this is Liz McCran,” Donnie said, gesturing to Liz.

“I am Mr. Shenouda.” He shifted the sign under his arm and offered to take the carry-on from Liz’s hand.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I hope you haven’t waited long.”

My entire life ran through Rayhan’s head, but he mumbled, “No. Not long at all.”


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Book Title The Tempering Agent (Book 3)

Genre Inspirational Romance/Mystery Suspense

Book Blurb

Dr. Priscilla Hackling finds herself thrown back into the murder investigation of her fiancé, Trey Whittington. While she was a suspect three years ago, she’s now working with the police to find the murderer, Egyptian artifact trafficker, Zarka El-Din.

During a sting operation in Siwa, she and Agent Donnie Barnes are drawn to each other but Priscilla, overcome by personal ghosts from her past, decides a relationship isn’t possible.

Priscilla realizes she’s the bait in the ruse and uncovers others involved with El-Din. Will she and Donnie reconcile and unravel the reason behind Trey’s death before El-Din kills her, too?


Exclusive Excerpt

Priscilla moved to the window and bent to pick up her backpack which she’d left below the sill. Why did I agree to let him walk me to the jeep? I’ve walked the pathway alone hundreds of times. She peered out at the darkened street. Lights flickered off in the homes and the walkway grew dark, echoes of a police siren far in the distance. Just to be safe, she’d go with him.

Donnie and Priscilla strolled to their cars after saying their goodbyes. Mid-way he stopped and put his hand on her arm. “Hey. I know you don’t like me, but I can help you in Siwa. As Rayhan said, I have worked with Zarka El-Din. He never figured out that I’m in the employee of ETSO. I could still pose as a buyer.”

“I don’t know, Mister Barnes. I don’t mind telling you I’m headstrong. I’ve worked on my own for so long calling the shots and planning my work exactly as I want it. I don’t share the lead too well.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I hate to say it, but we’re too much alike. It wouldn’t work.”

Donnie stepped closer. Priscilla’s heart beat wildly. Over his shoulder a silvery moon rose. A lover’s moon, a handsome man, and a dimly lit walkway. Priscilla stepped back, putting distance between them. No. He couldn’t touch her heart; she wouldn’t let him.

“I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?”

She didn’t answer. He could read her so easily. This unnerved her more than his arrogant attitude.

He kept pace with her as they continued down the street. “Here,” he said. He reached into his shirt pocket. “Call me tomorrow. I have some field work in the morning, but I’ll be at that number all afternoon.”

Priscilla shoved the card he’d handed her into her backpack. He stood by the side of her jeep and waited until she had cranked over the engine. As she backed away, he called out, “See ya, Pris.” This time she found herself not quite so irritated but wondered exactly what she did feel.


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Author Biography

Victoria Pitts Caine is a native Californian. Her varied interests include genealogy and exotic gemstone collecting both of which she’s incorporated into her novels. While her genre is inspirational, she has branched out into other areas such as her current release, Not Bound by Time and a YA mystery/suspense.

The author has received recognition from: Enduring Romance Top 10 Picks for 2008, William Saroyan Writing Conference, Byline Magazine, Writer’s Journal Magazine, HI Families Magazine and The Southern California Genealogical Society. Her first novel, Alvarado Gold, was published in 2007. To complete the trilogy which began with Alvarado Gold, Cairo was published in 2013 and The Tempering Agent in 2014.

She is the mother of two daughters. Victoria and her husband enjoy travel, church service and emergency radio communications.


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