Heartstone: The Drowned Tower by @NicholasRinth is Riveting! #epicfantasy #fantasy


Drowned Tower, The - Nicholas Rinth

 

Title: Heartstone: The Drowned Tower

Author: Nicholas Rinth

Genre: Epic Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:

“If the future was bared before you, would it still be yours?
If the past could chase you, would you run from it?
If the world crumbled tonight, would you carve your own?”

 

Freedom is out of the question for practitioners of the Institute, and any supporters otherwise are dealt with violently. A system Sylvie Sirx neither refutes, nor endorses—born from an enviable family, talented in her skills, and entirely too content with her position, her path has always been a straight one… until now.

 

Her qualifications backfire when an elder from the north descends upon her home for a Choosing. He calls upon the Drowned Tower’s most sought after practitioners for a simple job that ends in blood, and then Sylvie’s blissful world erupts. She finds herself in the company of the Elementalist, Jacques Dace, an insufferable but deadly enthusiast of personal reform. Together, they’re swept into a spiral of powerful magic and ancient grudges. Where truth bends, stones whisper secrets of the past, and their home lies at the heart of what could very well be Ferus Terria’s next recorded war.

 

And for once, she is forced to choose a side, learning for herself what it means to master fate.

 

Excerpt:

Come to me, the voice beckoned.

 

Jack’s eyes burned. He clutched his face and groaned in pain.

 

“What’s wrong?” Tiv asked.

 

Jack tried to respond, but the words died in his throat. They were replaced by a scream that had Tiv dropping down to his haunches and shaking Jack in worry. As he doubled over at the sensation of heat erupting from his sockets. His eyes didn’t melt. But they might as well have.

 

He gnashed his teeth together and muffled a scream. Hot tears trailed down his cheeks. They clouded his vision and only made his pain worse.

 

Jack’s blood boiled. It was too hot.

 

He heard voices. Men, women, children. They echoed in his mind, bouncing around as if they belonged there. He heard the clank of chains and burning fire. Children’s screams thrown into the mix like muffled background noise. They cried out to him. Their voices were pitiful whines. But what could he do?

 

Stop it! Jack dug his palms into his eyes, sorely wishing that he was a Healer. Go away! Leave me alone. I can’t help you!

 

This was his body. His. They had no right to play in his head. They could cripple him from pain, but he wouldn’t allow them to invade his mind. His thoughts were his own, and he’d sooner die than relinquish the reins that governed him.

 

“Enough!” Jack bit out, clawing at his throat. His magic burst forth out of instinct. His hands radiated a pale blue, before he conjured fire. The blaze encircled his form, spreading warmth over worn limbs and encasing him in a ball of scorching heat that distorted the air.

 

Tiv stepped back, his black eyes filled with confusion. He’d almost been burned.

 

“Jack! What’s going on?”

 

“I said, enough!”

 

And as if listening to him, the pain ceased.

 

Jack clutched his head for a tick longer. As the sparks of his magic died down. His head pounded with a vengeance that matched the erratic beat of his heart.

 

For fuck’s sake, was Jack’s first thought, what just happened?

 

His eyes were still sealed shut, and his mouth was clenched in frustrated silence. The tears left wet trails down his cheeks. They stung. But he made no move to wipe them.

 

Tiv squirmed a distance away. He took a cautious step forward. Close enough to assist, but far enough to run should Jack decide to sheathe himself in another circle of fire.

 

“Jack,” Tiv called, hesitant. “Are you alright?”

 

“Do I look—” Jack recoiled, just as Tiv flinched.

 

Black clouded Jack’s vision. He frantically looked around, trying to shake off the hazy tendrils obstructing his periphery. Despite the added darkness, his sight was unnaturally clear. Colors were enhanced. Lines more pronounced. The world flowed. Seamless. A harmony of utter perfection. It was almost too bright.

 

Jack heard a gasp and turned to see Tiv point a trembling finger at him.

 

“Your eyes…” Tiv stepped back in sudden fear. “What happened to your eyes?”

 

Buy Links:

The Drowned Tower is Available for Purchase Here:
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Nicholas Rinth

 

Author Bio:

NICHOLAS RINTH lives lakeside in the southern graces of Savannah, Georgia. Where he spends his time fantasizing about other worlds and working on his next novel.

 

Social Media Links:

Website | Instagram | Twitter | Tumblr | Amazon

Mike and Hannah (West Coast Soulmates #2) by @carlakrae is a Heartfelt #Romance! #books


Natural qualitative texture. Close up.

 

Title – Mike and Hannah

Author – Carla Krae

Genre – Contemporary Romance

Publisher – Willowick Publishing

 

Book Blurb —

Takes place after COMPLETED and DYLAN AND JEN.

 

With most of the band coupled up now, Mike is the seventh wheel. Realizing he hasn’t cultivated a life outside the band in years is a lonely epiphany. When a young woman mistakes him for someone else, the awkward encounter turns into a possibility for something real. Something lasting. Something like love.

 

Hannah, a recent arrival in L.A., is looking for a connection in her new life. Despite meeting Mike under less-than-ideal circumstances, she accepts his invitation to a Memorial Day BBQ with his friends, never expecting them to be famous rockstars with hearts of gold. Mike couldn’t be nicer and sparks are flying, so when he insists on taking their time to get to know each other, part of her is flattered and the other side is frustrated he won’t get naked. How far can she tease him before he gives in?

 

Settle in for a sweet and spicy romance in the My Once and Future Love Revisited universe where finding yourself means finding true love. This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations. West Coast Soulmates book #2.

 

Excerpt —

Choose to be the new girl in town at your peril.  I get now why Mom never lived farther than twenty minutes from the house she was born in.  Looking around my empty living room, the balloons in the corners mocked my solitude.  The food on the kitchen table sat untouched, a chocolate cake still pristine in the center.

 

Someone knocked on the front door.  Thank God.  I checked my watch and opened the door.  “Marcy!”  Fifteen minutes late, but at least someone showed up.

 

She shoved a present into my hands.  “Hi, Hannah, sorry I can’t stay, but I wanted to give you this so you wouldn’t think I forgot.”  She smiled, ran back down the driveway to her Honda, and zipped away, waving through the window.

 

Wow.  Even my best friend—rethinking that title now—couldn’t stay for my birthday.

 

Hannah, she’s your only friend.

 

I placed the small gift on the table and put the food back in the refrigerator.  Didn’t want to poison anyone, should they ever show up.  Hadn’t invited a lot of people—there weren’t many I knew well enough yet to let into my home—but I’d put out a decent spread.  There was even alcohol, and I didn’t drink.

 

After another half-hour, I gave up and turned the lights out in the living room, then cut a piece of cake for myself and stuck one candle in it.

 

“Happy friggin’ birthday to me.”

 

Making a half-hearted wish in my head for some improvement to the night, I blew the candle out.  My dress went back in the closet in favor of a long-sleeve tee and sweatpants, then I signed into my e-mail on the off-chance my co-workers made excuses.  Nothing but a couple ads and a request for a file from work even though everybody knew I had the day off.  Joy.

 

Then it hit me, the message that was missing today—Dad’s.  Tears blurred my vision.

 

Two months after his death, I’d been doing okay.  Not a hint of tears for two weeks.  We weren’t close and conversations were usually awkward at best, but he always remembered my birthday.  We saw each other two, maybe three times a year.  It shouldn’t be that big a deal, dangit.  We weren’t close.  I’d even spent adolescent years hating him, yet these stupid tears were smudging my mascara.

 

Funny how I’d come to rely on a short little e-mail every year.  I sniffed and reached for a tissue.

 

“So, Hannah…friendless, parentless…what are you gonna do now?”  I turned on the bathroom faucet.  “I’m going to wash my face and eat cake until I puke.”

 

Good plan, huh?

 

Skin squeaky clean, I blindly reached for a towel and dried my face, then felt along the counter for my glasses.  The girl in the mirror wore a frown.

 

I sighed.

 

The doorbell chimed, an hour after the party should have started.

 

Padding to the door in bare feet, I switched the porch light on and unlocked the deadbolt.

 

Buy Links —

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y2P9223

Apple https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/mike-hannah-my-once-future/id1148684847?mt=11

B&N http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mike-and-hannah-carla-krae/1124491338?ean=2940153704111

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/661762

 

 

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.

To stay up-to-date, sign up for the newsletter: http://eepurl.com/FHncP

My Once and Future Love Revisited :
Kissed
Betrayed
Forgiven
Loved
Completed (2016)
Dylan and Jen (stand alone)
Mike and Hannah (stand alone)

West Coast Soulmates:
Dylan and Jen (published)
Mike and Hannah (4/7/2017)
The Roommate (published)
Mr. Perfect (2017)
Untitled (2017)

 

Social Media Links —

Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/CarlaKraeAuthor

Twitter https://twitter.com/carlakrae

Follow on BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/carla-krae

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

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

 

 

Nobody Ever Said Life Was Easy… Painting Sky by @rita_branches #romance


Painting Sky
Rita Branches
(Painting Sky #1)
Publication date: April 25th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance

 

Nobody ever said life was easy…

 

People pleaser, Jane Skylar wants nothing more than to earn her art degree, start her life, and bask in the bliss of living with her boyfriend.

 

But things don’t always go as planned…

 

Struggling with her creative side, Jane finds herself in turmoil, often confiding in her roommate – another, more talented art student, Keith Hale. Keith just so happens to be her boyfriend’s older, brooding brother. After a devastating breakup, Jane turns to Keith for comfort. But when the lines blur between roommate and lover, Jane’s life becomes more complicated than ever before.

 

When Keith’s past comes back to haunt him, their lives all get turned upside down, forcing the truth to surface. Now Jane must fight for what she wants–even if it hurts everyone she loves.

 

*It’s a Stand-alone*

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

The next towels were easier. I was getting colder and so tired that my eyes started to shut and I dozed off. When the towel on my stomach was removed, the breeze on my skin made me shiver and woke me up.

“Just one more time, and then we’ll check if the fever has lowered.” He changed the towels again. I had stopped feeling awkward about the lack of clothes a long time ago: maybe between the cold towel or the scared look on Keith’s face.

My shivering never stopped. After Keith took all the towels from my body, I just wanted to curl up and sleep. The sheets were wet, though, as well as my clothes. Keith left for a minute and I opened one eye to see him standing at the door, frowning.

“What is it now?”

“I can’t find any clean sheets,” he answered. I wasn’t feeling good enough today to do laundry, so the other set was dirty.

“Come on. Try sitting up.” Keith opened one of my drawers.

“What are you doing?” It was where I kept my underwear. He ignored my protests and took some black cotton panties and a matching tank top and placed them on the bed.

“I’ll be in the hallway. Call me when you’re done—unless you want my help.” His smirk was weak, but I knew he was trying to make me smile. I shooed him out of my room with a wave of my hand and took my time changing out of my clothes. My body hurt, especially my ribs.

“I’m coming in,” Keith warned, as soon as I pulled the tank top down. “Can you get up?” I obeyed him, unsure of why he wanted me to get up if I didn’t have any clean sheets to change the bed with. My bedroom swung around me and I had to sit back down again. I was too weak to stand. Keith sighed and put his arms under me. I stiffened instantly, not just at the gesture, but also at my lack of clothing. He picked me up and left my room.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I’m taking you to my room. The sheets are clean, I haven’t slept there this week, and they are dry, at least.” He winked while pushing open his bedroom door with his shoulder. I had been in his room once or twice to bring him his clean clothes, but I’d never taken the time to look around. I wouldn’t do so this time, either, as the only light on was from the lamp on his bedside table.

The space was clean and tidy. I imagined all his clutter was in the attic, where he spent most of his time.

I whimpered against his cold sheets. “Come on, scoot over,” he said, as soon as he laid me down. I did what he asked and the next thing I felt was his warm body against mine. I gasped at the contact, but scooted back against his chest. I tried to ignore the chuckle that came from him, which shook my body slightly.

His hand came to rest on my stomach for a second before he pulled my tank top up. I was prepared to turn and punch him in the face when I realized what he was trying to do. He lifted his own shirt and hugged my bare back. I sighed, trying not to moan. For the second time tonight, I wasn’t cold, as his body was warmer than mine.

“Just so we’re clear, in the morning, we go back to not caring much for the other, right?” I asked, more to try and clear the air. I felt him tense before answering me with a weird shrug.

“I guess,” he mumbled.

“Why do you hate me?” I whispered.

 

Author Bio:

 

Rita Branches is an independent YA (young adult) author who enjoys spending every free moment (when she´s not reading) writing emotional stories. Visit: http://ritabranches.wordpress.com/

 

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

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Love and Crime: Stories by @VSKemanis #romanticsuspense #suspense #books


Love and Crime Stories - Half size

 

Title: Love and Crime: Stories

Author: V.S. Kemanis

Genre: Short Stories/Psychological Suspense/Literary Fiction

Publisher: Opus Nine Books

 

Book Blurb:

Loves big and small, crimes forgiven or avenged. These are the themes that drive the eleven diverse stories in this new collection of psychological suspense from storyteller V.S. Kemanis.

 

Meet the husband and wife team Rosemary and Reuben, master chefs known to sprinkle a dash of magic into every dish. Lucille Steadman, a dazed retiree who can’t explain why she’s left her husband, only to discover, too late, the meaning of love and commitment in the most surprising place. Franklin DeWitt, an esteemed ballet critic who witnesses—or abets?—a bizarre criminal plot to topple a beautiful Soviet ballerina. Rosalyn Bleinstorter, a washed-up defense attorney whose stubborn belief in her own street savvy leads her unwittingly into a romantic and criminal association with an underworld figure.

 

These are just a few of the colorful characters you’ll get to know in these pages, where all is fair in love and crime. While the endings to these tales are not always sweet or predictable, and self-deception is rarely rewarded, the lessons come down hard and are well learned.

 

This collection includes stories originally published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, The William & Mary Review, Lynx Eye, and Iconoclast, and previously unpublished stories.

 

Excerpt:  

ROSEMARY AND REUBEN

 

ANDERSON IS SINGLE by choice and always has been. True to his one love, he treats himself to an epicurean delight every Saturday night. At this stage of his life, he’s indifferent to money and mortality and gladly indulges to excess. Only the finest restaurants in Manhattan will do.

 

Before stepping out, Anderson trims the goatee and puts on his evening best. Invariably he dines alone, although he isn’t without a list of possible companions, female and male. Still, there’s no wish for a lover to dine with. On his evenings out, he indulges a craving of a different sort, the sensual experience of taste, texture, and aroma, the heft of silver and gleam of crystal, the lengthening and savoring of time. For a few hours he forgets his life—everything it is and is not. A full belly and a buzz from the grape will do that.

 

On this particular Saturday, Anderson is fortunate to have a reservation at the celebrated Ole Factory in the Village. Competition is high. It’s rumored that, after thirty-five years in business, Rosemary and Reuben Blandrigard will soon be retiring.

 

At seven o’clock, Anderson alights from a taxicab, braves an icy blast, and darts over the frozen pavement into the restaurant. The small foyer is square, dim, and hushed like a confessional, with a single, warm light directed from the ceiling toward the opposite wall.

 

Anderson is drawn to the sepia-toned photograph of the owners, framed in a simple mahogany rectangle, displayed on the eggshell wall. Rosemary lovingly gazes at Reuben, and Reuben gazes at Anderson with a look of glazed contentment.

 

Past the foyer and over the threshold, a young hostess looks up. Anderson squares his shoulders and announces his name. She seems to know him. “How are you this evening, Mr. Anderson?”

 

“Fine. Just fine, thank you.” He strokes the goatee and drops his eyes to her neck.

 

“Is this your first time at the Ole Factory?”

 

“Yes, indeed it is,” he informs her neck. “I’ve run the gauntlet successfully it seems.”

 

“And you’ve earned your reward.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

 

He senses her amusement, feigned or real, from the tension in her neck.

 

“Right this way, please.” She turns, sending her long skirt into a gentle swirl, and guides him at a leisurely pace through the well-spaced dining room of about twenty tables. The décor is spare but pleasing. In the far corner, a small, round table awaits him. The single chair is backed into the corner, allowing him a view outward into the room—a thoughtful arrangement. At some establishments he’s made to face the wall, and at others, an empty, second chair stands in silent rebuke of his social failings.

 

Anderson sits and orders an aperitif. Glancing at the menu, he senses, in the periphery, the sexual murmurings of a young, starry-eyed couple at the next table. Against his will, he’s aroused by a fleeting emotional stirring. The moment passes, giving way to the pleasing texture in his hand—the single sheet of cardstock. This is the message printed on the front:

 

“Welcome to the Ole Factory. We’ve created a unique menu for tonight’s meal. Let your server know if your pleasure is One or The Other. Your hosts, Rosemary and Reuben.”

 

Always a surprise, always superb. (The critics agree.) Each meal at the Ole Factory is specially created for the clientele, a process that begins with a telephone interview to vet personal aversions and food allergies. Simpatico tastes of prospective patrons are carefully matched, and a guest list is compiled for each sitting before any reservation is confirmed. It can take a year to get on a list.

 

As a successful applicant, Anderson has won the right to ponder his two options for the evening. Without much thought, he selects “The Other” before flipping the card over. Printed on the back is a short paragraph entitled “The Story of Rosemary and Reuben.” Legend might be the more descriptive term. Everything about them is legend, including their habit of circulating through the dining room during coffee and dessert. They appear at the kitchen door, wrench apart like cloven chopsticks, and weave different routes through the tables, separately greeting their guests.

 

As he sips his aperitif and reads The Story a second time, Anderson silently hopes that Rosemary will be the one to visit him at the end of his meal.

 

Two and a half hours later, he gets his wish. At nine thirty, she emerges from the kitchen with Reuben. Nearly touching, they suspend all movement for barely an eye blink. Reluctantly they part. With a quick, light step, Rosemary toes a straight line along the wall to Anderson’s table. She’s a roundish, dwarflike woman of about Anderson’s age, with silvery-gray hair pulled tightly back into a doughnut at the nape of her neck, exposing delicately-lobed, naked ears. Coming to a halt in dramatic proximity, she’s not much taller than Anderson as he sits. With a familiar air, she regards him from beneath jet-black eyebrows. Hold still please, says the creator of that sepia-toned photograph.

 

“Mr. Anderson. We’re very glad you could come this evening.”

 

His heart races in confusion. Her visit to his table fulfills his dearest wish, but everything else has been less than expected, troublingly so. He doesn’t understand the meaning of the past two and a half hours. He wants to tell her, but the words are bottled under a well-aged cork.

 

Before Anderson can speak, Rosemary lifts a bent index finger and rests the knuckle on the tip of her sharply-pointed nose. The finger covers her nostrils, the fisted hand covers her mouth.

 

Anderson searches for polite words but finds only the single, obvious truth. “The service was excellent, thank you.”

 

With a nod, she removes her hand. “It’s been our pleasure. Is there anything else we can get for you? Anything at all?” Pausing after the last word, the silence that follows announces her omission. She hasn’t inquired whether he enjoyed his dinner.

 

 

*     *     *

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Love-Crime-Stories-V-S-Kemanis-ebook/dp/B01N5X277X

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-crime-v-s-kemanis/1125784694?ean=2940154010600

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/love-and-crime-stories/id1205788364?mt=11

Kobo: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/love-and-crime-stories/id1205788364?mt=11

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/703882

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34238154-love-and-crime

 

V.S. Kemanis - 1

 

Author Biography:

V.S. Kemanis grew up in the East Bay Area of California in a family with six amazing siblings and parents passionate about politics, social issues, theater and music. Mealtimes were often raucous, stimulating, intellectual and fun gatherings in a household full of family and interesting guests, musicians, actors, artists, professors and university students.

 

Ms. Kemanis holds a B.A. in sociology from the University of California at Berkeley, and a J.D. from the University of Colorado, School of Law, at Boulder. In her legal career, she has been a criminal prosecutor of street crime and organized crime for county and state agencies, argued criminal appeals for the prosecution and defense, conducted complex civil litigation, and worked as a court attorney for state appellate courts. She is also an accomplished dancer of classical ballet, modern jazz and contemporary styles and has performed, taught and choreographed in California, Colorado and New York.

 

Dozens of short stories by Ms. Kemanis have been published in noted literary journals and award-winning collections. Her three novels in the Dana Hargrove legal mystery series draw on her personal experience in criminal law, juggling the needs of family with a high-powered legal career. Ms. Kemanis is a member of the Mystery Writers of America.

 

Social Media Links:

Website:  http://www.vskemanis.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/V.S.Kemanis.Author

Twitter: https://twitter.com/VSKemanis

 

 

Love Gritty, #DarkRomance? 1-Click WetWork Episode 3 by @CadenceDenton #amreading #ASMSG


WetWork Ep3 WEB 06152015

 

Title: WetWork, Dark Man Case Files, Episode 3

This is the third installment in my gritty, sexy, hitman serial. David Morace aka Dark Man is the main character.

Author: Cadence Denton

Genre: Contemporary Romance Suspense/Thriller

 

Book Blurb:

WetWork, Dark Man Case Files, Episode 3 is a gritty, action-packed romantic serial (30k). Filled with pulsing passion and heart pounding intrigue, it is the third episode in this hot, new series by author, Cadence Denton. Each installment ends in a cliffhanger.

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.

 

Exclusive Extended 18+ Excerpt:

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.

“Ahren?”

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?

They’d made love—sex on the beach had been everything she dreamed it would be. So, why had she ditched him?

Come now, Ahren. Who do you think you’re fooling?

Damien—God! She’d actually called DM Damien when her orgasm flooded her. Damien was DM’s identical twin. His brother. His enemy. Had he noticed? Of course he’d noticed. She grimaced at the memory. DM had stiffened for that instant before he’d lost himself inside her. She scratched off another line of polish, refusing to think about the sensuous dream that had taken her afterwards. Damien and her. Together in a shower. Their lovemaking had seemed so real.

“No. I won’t think about that. It didn’t happen. It will never happen. It was a dream… just a dream,” she whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

“They say if you talk to yourself you converse with a fool.”

Angel’s head snapped up, her breath catching in her chest. She knew that voice. “Gregor?” Unable to do anything but croak.

Gregor Utegaliyev, the Director of Chernyy, was a man in his middle years. His dark hair was close cropped and threaded with silver. Standing just at average height, his looks were misleading. His cheeks were ruddy and his lips had a natural tendency to curve up. He looked harmless. That was until you met his eyes. His eyes, shrouded by heavy, black brows, were coldly intelligent and dangerous.

Her eighteen months with Chernyy had shown her what Gregor was capable of. She’d watched him cut a man to pieces in front of the man’s family then turn and give the victim’s children a pat on the head and a couple rubles each before burning down their squalid home. The smell of burnt cabbage and sausage had stayed with her for days. “Life is hard,” he’d explained after they’d returned to base and were enjoying a glass of vodka. “Better for them to learn that early.” Cold, Russian pragmatism at its finest, that was Gregor.

Angel glanced wildly from him to where her handbag, with hand gun inside, rested just out of reach on a chair and cursed silently. It sat in easy reach to Gregor. As if driving that home, he unbuttoned his sport coat to reveal his rig.

With little to lose, she made a grab for the purse, but he easily stopped her clumsy attempts, his gun clenched in his fist. The barrel looked as big as a cannon and it was pointed at her head. Slowly, she shrugged and put her hands back on the table.  With a quick glance around, Gregor sat down.

“You’re… here,” she said, stupidly stating the obvious. She’d expected a Chernyy hit team, but not the Director of Chernyy.

He dipped his chin once, a wry twist to his lips. “You could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Angel sat back in her chair. “You won’t shoot me in Starbucks. Not in front of all these witnesses.”

“Won’t I? I’ve made countless hits in places more crowded than this.”

She’d give him that. “But not here in the United States. There are cameras everywhere and people with cell phones to record your actions. It would cause an international incident.”

Gregor’s eyes narrowed for a moment then he sighed. With a shrug, he slipped his gun back into his rig and smiled broadly. His teeth, she noticed, were stained. As if in answer to that observation, he pulled a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from his jacket, stuck one in his mouth and lit it, ignoring the hostile glares from neighboring diners. He inhaled deeply then blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Marlboro,” he said turning the cigarette sideways so she could see it.

She shrugged. What the hell did she care?

“It is the brand of cigarettes American cowboys smoke.”

“Great,” she said faintly. Okay, now that was weird.

Seeming satisfied with her response, Gregor again inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of the tobacco. Exhaling another plume of smoke, he focused on Angel. “Did you truly think I would not learn you’re a Guild plant?” He smiled when she stiffened.

She’d known he’d found her out. Hadn’t she survived the kill team at the Four Seasons Hotel? But the truth of the matter was she’d thought it was DM they’d been after. She was convinced that she was still flying under the radar—which just showed the depth of her own self-deception. Damn, she hated when she did that.

Taking a sip of tepid coffee, she said, “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you’d joined with the Chinese to take me out?” She watched him dip his chin as though conceding a point in their verbal chess match.

“You survived the operation, so naturally I knew you and Morace would figure out the alliances.” The thick cloud of smoke he exhaled veiled his eyes.

Glancing about, Angel noted the blond giant, Nikita, who was always a jolly flirt, sitting next to the restrooms’ doors while surly Dimitri, never her friend, sat at the table beside the exit and sent dark glances around the room.  Looking through the window, she noted a charcoal gray SUV, Chernyy’s vehicle of choice, across the street. A trill of fear danced up her spine. She was alone. Alone as in singular. There was no backup. There would be no backup. She had only herself, the gun she couldn’t reach, and a couple clips she wouldn’t be using.  Trapped. Good and well trapped.

She heard wind chimes and frowned. Where was it coming from? The soft tinkling erupted again and she peered down at her cell phone, confounded. That was not her usual text tone. Tilting the phone up, Angel ran a thumb across the screen.

Chernyy is here

No shit, she thought, stealthily turning the phone to silent mode.

Come outside. We r w8ting

Using extreme care, she was just able to press ? and send. In an instant the reply came back and she nearly fainted in relief when she read the single word: Natalya

She blinked, realizing that Gregor was still speaking in a low, urgent tone. “… Damien must be sent a clear message.”

Oh, that was rich. She burbled a laugh. Truth was she couldn’t hold it back. The thought of sending the Crown Prince of the Guild a clear message was laughable. It was Damien who had put her in this untenable position with no explanations and certainly no apologies. Did these fools really think they could lesson Damien? The term damned if you do and damned if you don’t sprang to mind.

“Funny, Damien said the same about you.”

Gregor’s lips tightened for a tense moment. Finally, he leaned back and shrugged. “Ah, but I am here and where is Damien?” He made a show of looking about expectantly before turning back to her, his dark eyes alight with triumph. “No doubt he is sitting safe and snug in his ivory tower, yes?”

He was right, damn him. She knew that was exactly where Damien was. And double damn Damien for putting her here with no backup, no real resources and only one ally who she herself had abandoned. Glancing out the window again, she prayed DM would show up, that she hadn’t made a clean getaway, and that somehow he’d followed her. After all, if Natalya was here it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility he’d be with her. But she could find no sign of him—or Natalya; just a young mother pushing a baby stroller, and an older couple sitting at the bus stand watching a teen sail past on a skateboard.  There would be no rescue today.

Meeting Gregor’s gaze, she thought she saw sympathy in his brown eyes but that was impossible, right? It had to be a glint of triumph. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding at the door.

Sighing, she reached for her handbag. Exhaustion kicked her hard between the eyes as she rose to her feet and left her feeling as colorless and worn as a faded pair of blue jeans. Angel trudged past tables where diners sipped their coffee and took bites out of pastries while staring like zombies at their tablets and smartphones.

She walked to the door held open by Nikita, a disapproving purse to his lips, and passed through ignoring Dimitri’s muttered threats. The gray SUV pulled across the street to a chorus of angry horns making the elderly couple look up and the young mother standing at the corner waiting for the light, turn and gawk. Gregor led the way, head down, moving with purpose toward the vehicle’s open door.

She gave her head a shake, unable to believe this was happening. Not once did she envision her death would be so boringly ridiculous.

Nikita stepped closer to her, his gun flashing in her face, and she set her jaw, determined to take this opening. She made a grab for his weapon, but felt her arm go numb from a blow to her elbow. Angel threw a kick that sent Nikita stumbling into the SUV’s open door and she slammed the door onto his legs and heard his muffled grunt.  She heard the click of a round being chambered and ducked. A melee of rounds tore across the side of the SUV and caught Nikita, his legs jerking as the bullets ripped through him.

Not sure where the attack had come from, Angel swung around to see the young mother holding an assault rifle. Maybe it was her frown or perhaps her flashing sapphire eyes, but suddenly she looked familiar.

“Move!” Natalya shouted, jerking the barrel to the left. Angel’s head twisted in that direction and she watched the elderly couple take pot shots at the Chernyy driver and associate.

She flung her head around, searching wildly for Gregor, but he was nowhere to be found. He had ducked back inside the coffee shop. There were muffled screams and shouts coming from inside. They mingled with the distant sound of sirens and became too much.

“Come on, Ahren

She moved, stumbling, her legs numb. Another burst of bullets passed so close she could have touched them had she but lifted her hand. Unconsciously, she grabbed for her sword then remembered she’d left it in DM’s room above the Stone Toad.

“Ahren! Catch!”

Suddenly her blade sailed through the air. Reaching up, she snagged it and unsnapped the leather thong, sliding the blade from its sheath and into Dimitri’s gut, opening him from groin to sternum. The big man slowly crumpled to the sidewalk like fall leaves, silent and soft, his arms thrown wide. She frowned, her gaze focusing on the strange circle tattoo on Dimitri’s wrist. It looked familiar.

Squealing tires made her look up. A glossy black tricked-out, restored Camaro pulled up beside Natalya, its big V-8 engine growling.

“Come on!” the driver shouted, a handsome man with a sun streaked mane of hair floating over his wide shoulders.

Angel stood motionless, unable to believe what she was seeing. She blinked, but nothing changed. She squinted looking at the man. Was he? Yes, he was. The driver was the lead singer from the Stone Toad. What was his name? Ethan? Yeah, that was it. Ethan… Dusk or something there abouts. The thought fled her mind when he lifted a gun and rested the barrel on the glass of the half lowered window. Pointed at her?

“Move, Ahren!” Natalya shouted.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0153NQXQS

Other Retailers: http://www.cadencedenton.com/product/wetwork-dark-man-case-files-episode-3/

 

cadence-denton

 

Author Biography:

My love of books began in elementary school with Nancy Drew mysteries. By high school, I was immersed in Jane Austin and Georgette Heyer. So, naturally I write dark (and light) paranormal romance, gritty hitmen contemporaries, and time travel. A daughter of the South, I live on the banks of the Mississippi opposite the oldest settlement on the river where I share my writer’s cave with four dachshunds and a slightly ditzy cocker spaniel.

 

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.
You can reach me at cadencedenton@cadencedenton.com

 

Sign up for Cadence’s newsletter at cadencedenton.com for the latest news, great giveaways, and sneak peeks at new projects.

 

Social Media Links:

Sign up for my newsletter at http://cadencedenton.com

Email: cadencedentonauthor@gmail.com

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

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

Instagram: https://instagram.com/cadence.denton/

Independent Author Network: http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/cadence-denton.html

 

 

Talking Tales: Puppy’s Bubble by Speech Therapist Erica Graham is Delightful! #kidlit #books


Puppys Bubble

 

Title: Talking Tales: Puppy’s Bubble

 

Author: Erica Graham MS, CCC-SLP

 

Genre: Children’s Picture Book for Speech Development

 

Publisher: Skyrai Publishing

 

 

Book Blurb:

When Puppy wakes up from a nap, he sees a bubble. When it disappears, Puppy begins his long journey to find the missing bubble. Will Puppy find the bubble, or has it vanished forever? This engaging story is a fun way to read to little ones while promoting babbling, early words and language skills. It provides over 90 examples of some of the earliest developing sounds in their most common word positions including “p”, “b”, “m”, “n”, “d” and “h”. This book also includes tips to encourage speech development.

 

Vine Voice Review on Amazon:

Author/illustrator/ Speech Therapist Erica Graham graduated from Southern Illinois University of Edwardsville with her Master of Science Degree in Speech Language Pathology: she also holds her Certificate of Clinical Competence with the American Speech-Language Hearing Association. In addition to creating delightfully entertaining and fun books Erica focuses each book on a few sounds used in the English language. She also provides the illustrations.

The story revolves around a Puppy who one day sees a bubble that disappears and Puppy is off to find it – it is not with his daddy or his mama or his nana – but then Puppy encounters many bubbles and upon biting one it pops and so he tries another and it also pops until there are no more bubbles. Where did all the bubbles go? In Erica’s creative way she offers a fun way to read to little ones while promoting babbling, early words and language skills. It provides over 90 examples of some of the earliest developing sounds in their most common word positions including “p”, “b”, “m”, “n”, “d” and “h”. At first glace it seems the book is just a cute simple story, but when read to a child ages 0 – 3 it offers the opportunity to show words such as pop, bubble, mama, nana, daddy and happy in the atmosphere of an adventure in which youngsters can participate and learn!

The story itself is a fine little idea, a very fine lesson in phonetics and speech therapy that introduces a whole new level of importance to children’s books! Grady Harp, March 17

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Talking-Tales-Puppys-Erica-Graham/dp/0997855533/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1489273970&sr=8-1&keywords=talking+tales+puppys+bubble

 

 Erica Graham

 

Author Biography:

Erica Graham graduated from Southern Illinois University of Edwardsville with her Master of Science Degree in Speech Language Pathology. She also holds her Certificate of Clinical Competence with the American Speech-Language Hearing Association. As a mother, Erica understands the difficulty parents have finding time to work on speech with their children. In her pursuit to create a fun easy way for therapists, children, and their parents to enhance speech development while promoting literacy, she has written a series of exciting children’s books. Each book focuses on a core sound used in the English language. Outside of writing and working as a Speech Language Pathologist, Erica enjoys spending time outdoors with her husband and daughters, volunteering with the youth group at church, and a good cup of tea.

 

 

Social Media Links:

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

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16058804.Erica_Graham?from_search=true

 

The Viking’s Witch by @KWilkinsauthor is a #HistoricalRomance Gem! #books #amreading


VikingsWitch-cover

 

Title: The Viking’s Witch

Author: Kelli A. Wilkins

Genre: Historical Romance with Paranormal Elements

Publisher: Medallion Press

 

Blurb:

The Viking’s Witch

 

About to be burned at the stake by her fellow villagers, Odaria does what any betrayed witch facing certain death would do. She calls down a curse. Within seconds, rampaging Norsemen raid the village, capturing everyone except her.

 

But her reprieve is short-lived, and Odaria lands in the clutches of the Norse leader Rothgar. Can she remain true to herself and fight her growing attraction to this domineering man, or will she fall under his influence and be used for his ambitions?

 

After Rothgar witnesses Odaria’s powers firsthand, he strikes a bargain with her. The raven-haired beauty will use her magical abilities to help him with his quest in exchange for safe passage off the isle. But can this cunning woman be trusted, or is she using him to exact vengeance on her village?

 

Together they must fight bloodthirsty villagers, battle a mutinous band of Norsemen, find a missing Norse ship, and learn to trust each other . . . before time is up.

 

 

 

Excerpt:

Odaria scanned the cookroom and spotted a large table piled high with food. Brennan must have been planning a feast to celebrate her death. There would be plenty of meat and beer in the underground storage area. Men liked to eat. The Norsemen must be hungry from their long journey. Mayhap she could offer Rothgar a meal and strike a bargain with him.

 

“Are you hungry?” she asked, cocking her head. “I know where to find food and drink, wood for the fire, clean water, and—”

 

“Hvat ist das plass?”

 

She scowled at him, trying to decipher his words. A few seconds later, she understood. “This is a cookroom. Women in the village prepare meals here. See?” She waved at the iron pots, wooden pitchers, and other cookery items stacked on the shelves around the room. “They make food.”

 

Rothgar rolled his eyes. “Ja. Vat ist dat?” He pointed to the door behind her.

 

“The gathering hall. The men conduct business here. There is a room upstairs for sleeping. The larder, the food and drink, is below,” she said slowly, hoping he’d understand.

 

He nodded and inched closer to her. She tried to move away, but she had nowhere to go. Her back was pressed against the door.

 

Rothgar grinned and cupped her chin in his wide hand. Her heart fluttered. What was he doing? She stared into his eyes as he bowed his head. His rough beard grazed her cheek as his lips lightly brushed against hers.

 

Her entire body tingled, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. The room spun and seemed to grow dim. As everything faded, she had a clear vision of wrapping her arms around Rothgar’s neck and eagerly pulling him close for a kiss. Dizzy, she pitched forward.

 

Rothgar caught her and clutched her to his chest. “Shh,” he soothed, running his hand through her loose hair. “I will not harm you, Odaria.”

 

She relaxed against his broad chest, letting him support her weight. His touch was calming, and she felt safe here, leaning against Rothgar as she would rest against a thick tree. She inhaled deep. Rothgar didn’t stink of rancid sweat like the other men. He smelled clean and salty, like the sea. The scent comforted her. She could almost fall asleep where she stood.

 

Rothgar curled his arms around her ribs. She didn’t protest. In spite of everything, he hadn’t harmed her and he had saved her from that horrible Norseman in the red tunic.

 

After a few moments, her dizzy spell passed, and she gazed at him. “You are not like the others. You are different, Rothgar.”

 

He smiled. “Ja, in some ways. But fear not, Odaria. I will not share you with the others. I wish to have you all to myself.” Rothgar chuckled and winked at her. “Now, show me this food.”

 

“Aye.” She had no choice but to obey Rothgar’s wishes—for now.

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/The-Vikings-Witch-ebook/dp/B008R5185G/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1375813873&sr=1-1&keywords=Kelli+A.+Wilkins

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-vikings-witch-kelli-wilkins/1112359676?ean=9781605421698&itm=1&usri=kelli+wilkins

 

Other Platforms: http://medallionpress.com/books/the-vikings-witch/

 

Kelli Cliffs

 

Author Bio:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kelli A. Wilkins is an award-winning author who has published more than 100 short stories, 19 romance novels, and 5 non-fiction books. Her romances span many genres and heat levels.

 

Her trilogy of erotic romance novellas, Midsummer Night’s Delights, Midwinter Night’s Delights, and Ultimate Night’s Delights was released in spring 2017.

 

Loving a Wild Stranger was published in January 2017. This historical/pioneer romance is set in the wilds of the Michigan Territory and blends tender romance with adventure.

 

Kelli’s third Medallion Press romance, Lies, Love & Redemption was released in September 2016. This spicy historical western is set on the Nebraska prairie in 1877.

 

Her writing book, You Can Write—Really! A Beginner’s Guide to Writing Fiction is a fun and informative guide filled with writing exercises and helpful tips all authors can use.

 

Kelli posts on her Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKelliWilkins and Twitter: www.Twitter.com/KWilkinsauthor.

 

She also writes a weekly blog: http://kelliwilkinsauthor.blogspot.com/.

 

Visit her website, www.KelliWilkins.com to learn more about all of her writings, read book excerpts, reviews, and more. Readers can sign up for her newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/HVQqb.

 

Social Media:

Here are a few links to find Kelli & her writings on the web

Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/author/kelliwilkins

Website: http://www.KelliWilkins.com

Blog: http://kelliwilkinsauthor.blogspot.com/

Newsletter sign-up: http://eepurl.com/HVQqb

Medallion Press Author Page: http://medallionpress.com/author/kelli-wilkins/

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

Twitter: www.Twitter.com/KWilkinsauthor

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1123678.Kelli_A_Wilkins

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

 

Author Spotlight: @RuthACasie and Her #ContemporaryRomance #books! #amreading #MFRWAuthor


 Ruth A Casie close

 

Storyteller  –  Blogger  –  Dreamer  – Creative Thinker – Good Sport  –  Teammate

 

You might be wondering what I’m about. Sit back and let me tell you.

 

I’m happiest when I’m telling stories either chatting with a group of friends or writing them down. I love to put my hero and heroine in tough situations and dare them to work it out—together, always together. They haven’t disappointed me.  Oh, they complain but in the end their love and relationships are stronger than ever.

 

I’ve been filling up my days and staying busy. While I keep tormenting my druid knight, I’m outlining a new series. The working title is the River of Time. It’s about an elite technology security officer, whose job is to eliminate time travelers, but he falls in love with a time traveling art appraiser and has to choose between his duty and his one chance for a timeless love. I love this story line because it lets me stretch my contemporary voice while working in historic time periods. I think this is the best of both worlds.

 

For most of you, my contemporary side will be a surprise. Here are five other things you probably don’t know about me:

 

I filled up my passport in one year.

I worked for a large financial institution, way before webinars and Skype. As a product manager I visited with clients and potential clients. All my clients were overseas. My sales support program took me to almost every European country (sorry not Liechtenstein) as well as a good many in Asia and South America. Have I got some great travel stories!

 

I have a medieval romance story about the seven sons of a seventh son.

Only one book is finished, and published. The Guardian’s Witch. The others are in various draft stages. The heroine of The Guardian’s Witch was born with veil over her face, a caul. Throughout history, caul bearers are believed to have a special purpose—to serve mankind, guide people to understand themselves and the world within which they live. Many cultures believe this makes the child “King by right” with special powers ranging from leadership abilities to natural healers and having greater insight. I was born with caul. I’m still trying to figure out my power.

 

I did a rap to “How Many Trucks Can a Tow Truck Tow If a Tow Truck Could Tow Trucks.”

I was a guest reader at my son’s first grade class (he’s out of college and on his own now). I rapped the book while my son was my boom box. We had a great time.

 

When I cook I dance.

Our kitchen isn’t large but ever since Paul (my DH) and took ballroom dance lessons I practice between the fridge, the stove, and the table. Caution, don’t twirl or dip while carrying dinner to the table. Ouch!

 

My Sudoku book is in the bathroom.

I’m not saying anything else about that.

 

 

Sign up for Ruth’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bau7Qv

 

Follow Ruth A. Casie on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ruth-A.-Casie/e/B005V0YEVU

 

Follow Ruth A. Casie on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ruth-a-casie

 

 

Escapes

 

Title Second Chance by the Sea (Timeless Escapes Box Set)

Author Ruth A. Casie

Genre Contemporary Romance

Publisher Timeless Scribes Publishing

 

Book Blurb

Married for ten years, a couple at odds find their marriage was never registered. Will an impending disaster be the final straw that breaks them up or will it rekindle their love and send them back to the altar for a second chance?

 

Excerpt

“El, you okay? You seem to be someplace else.” He didn’t let her hand go.

 

She glanced at his eyes. The ones that made every woman who met him melt. “I was thinking about the day we met.”

 

He put his arm around her and drew her close. “Ah, you mean the day I gallantly saved your life.”

 

She laughed and snuggled closer. “You did not. I was tired that’s all.”

 

“Please, let me think you needed me. There are so few instances.” He kissed her forehead and went over to the captain to help with their luggage.

 

The smile slid off her face. For a moment she felt… alone. Need him? If there was ever a time she needed him it was now, but they were set on a collision course and she had no idea of the outcome. She shook off the uneasy sensation and grabbed some of the small bags. Alan was on his cell phone.

 

Buy Links

Buy e-Book: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

Buy Print: Amazon

 

Author Biography

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

 

Social Media Links

Website: http:// www.ruthacasie.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Vows

 

Title Forsaking All Others (Timeless Vows Box Set)

Author Ruth A. Casie

Genre Contemporary Romance

Publisher Timeless Scribes Publishing

 

Book Blurb

Morgan and Margot are wild  about  each  other.  But early on in their  relationship,  Morgan  was  focused  on establishing himself with one of New York’s most prestigious law firms and Margot was busy making a name for herself in the antiques business. For the past ten years, commitment was not something either of them wanted.

 

A visit to Morgan’s brother and sister-in-law changes both their lives. Now it seems all the two of them can think of is  making a commitment—they  just don’t know how to tell each other. They are both afraid of driving the other away.

 

Morgan keeps  reminding  Margot  she  doesn’t  want  a  commitment,  hoping  she’s  changed  her  mind.  Margot thinks Morgan needs to see someone else interested in her to force him into action.

 

In truth, all they need to do is talk to each other and say what’s in their hearts. Will they come to their senses or deny the loving relationship they both desire?

 

Excerpt

With her back to the door, she scanned the crowded bachelor/bachelorette party to see if Morgan had returned. He’d stepped out an hour ago. Business, he’d said. Aren’t you glad we’re not doing this? She thought about his words from earlier in the day. No, damn it. This is what she wanted. Do you hear me, Morgan Stuart? I. Want. Forever.

 

The DJ had almost everyone—including every woman present—doing a line dance on the packed dance floor. She had a clear view of the bar where the men were hanging out, gawking and making comments while they had their drinks. Nope, he wasn’t there, either. She was about to give up when a movement by the nest of cocktail tables captured her attention.

 

Morgan raised his bottle of beer in salute. “And I only want forever with you,” she murmured. She ran her hands down her snug black dress—making sure it clung in all the right places—then maneuvered across the crowded room, eager to get to him. She wanted to see if his eyes smoldered when he looked at her. As soon as she reached him she realized she needed more courage. She removed the bottle from his hand and took a swallow.

 

“Whoa. You don’t like beer. Remember?”  Ignoring his outstretched hand, she took another gulp and tried not to screw up her face. The stuff was vile, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

 

Those little pink things—the ones with vodka, vermouth and strawberries that she’d had all afternoon—slid down so easily, along with the shots she’d had a few minutes ago with the girls in the bridal party. At the moment, she didn’t care what she drank. Something wet and mind numbing was what she wanted.

 

Maybe the beer would steady the room and stop it from spinning. No, the dancers were a blur and now her stomach was complaining.

 

Since the beer made her stomach queasier, she placed her hands on the back of the chair and held on for dear life. A sideways glimpse was all she needed to see Morgan shaking his head. “You’re going to regret this in the morning,”  he said, bending close to her. She closed her eyes and tried to control a shudder as his low voice and warm breath bathed her ear. She turned to face him, his lips a kiss away and his eyes…his eyes—

 

Buy Links

Buy e-Book: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

Buy Print: Amazon

 

 

“Just Don’t Tell the Humans…” Destiny Box Set by @LiviaQuinn #paranormal #TuesdayBookBlog


Storm Lake Box Set

 

Title Storm Lake Box Set 1: Destiny

Author Livia Quinn

Genre Paranormal Romance, Paranormal

 

Book Blurb

Welcome to Destiny, or should I say Middle Earth…

 

Ages ago a pact was made between all the supernatural species – shifters, djinn, dragons, vampires and fae – to protect humans. Just don’t tell the humans…

 

Enter Middle Earth. You won’t want to leave.

 

The best buy – three books in one, a great introduction to the Paramortals world of tempestaeries (storm witches), dragons, shifters vampires and fae.

 

Excerpt

Storm Crazy:

I heard a quiet click of metal behind me, spun around and swallowed a startled gasp. I was staring into the barrel of a mean looking gun, and at the other end of that rigid grip was an even meaner looking Jack Lang, the one I hadn’t met until now, a cold-as-ice predator. His knuckles were white but his arm was steady as a granite mountain.
“Where’s…my…daughter?” he growled. One eye actually twitched as silver eyes whitened into pure frost. If he was trying to scare me, he’d succeeded.
A sound rumbled up from his chest like that of an animal. “What have you done with Jordie?”
Recognition came in a flash. I smacked my hand against my forehead. “I knew I recognized her.”
His eyes seemed to take on an angular appearance, brows winging up, but the gun never wavered.

“Woman, you’d better start talking or you’re not going to like my next move.”
Not an animal—a papa-bear.
I’m sorry.”
He gave a snarl of pain and grabbed me. “What do you mean you’re sorry?”
“I mean…” I squirmed in his bruising grip… “I’m sorry I didn’t put it together.”
He roared, “What the hell are you talking about? Where is Jor—”
“She’s at your parents’.” It finally dawned on me; he thought I’d kidnapped his daughter. Zeus’ newborn godling!

 

Cry Me A River:

“What’s a Tempest fairy?” I asked her finally.

“Tempestaerie,” she corrected. “A major Tempestaerie can control the elements, air and water, though they will have some influence over fire and earth. Thus—my rain and lightning bolts, such as they were. Minor Tempestaeries like Paige have no significant talent.”

“Is that an honest assessment or just two kittens fighting over the milk?” I asked.

“Tempe’s understating her potential, Jack.” Dylan said, “In the past they’ve been known to call down asteroids.”

That got my attention.

Tempe shrugged. “It’s not all catastrophic drama though. A storm faerie, as we’ve been called, can turn into anything associated with weather.” She was quiet for a minute then her gaze met mine, her voice turned soft, sad. “I just remembered—when I was in my first week at school I think, it had been raining for days—the principal’s assistant came to my teacher and handed her a pair of black boots. There was a note in them from my mother. It said, “So your little feet will be dry and I can keep my girl close.” Her eyebrows dipped as tears flooded her eyes. “She’d turned into a pair of boots, and I walked around with her on my feet all day… long.”

Aurora said, “It was all Phoebe could get away with—”

A few splats of water were the only warning we had before a gentle rain began to fall on every surface of Aurora’s workroom. “Oh, dear. It’s getting quite unpredictable,” Aurora said as she wiped the rain from her eyes.

 

Eve of Chaos:

For the rest of the evening, no matter where she was, if she turned her head, and looked across the expanse of revelers she’d find his eyes locked on hers, as if he’d been waiting for her to turn. Once, she turned back toward the bar but it was oddly clear, only Flambe´ standing there, framed by the oak counter, one of his swords standing in front of him on its hilt, the tip nearly reaching the Knight’s chest. He’d been cleaning it, shining and stroking the deadly edges with a cloth, so intimately acquainted with them that he wasn’t even watching.

 

His attention was all on her, the rims of his eyes lined like a predator’s, causing her to shiver briefly, but if that look was for her, he should know she was not prey. By her very nature, predators were her enemy. And still she felt the pull of pure heat as if they were connected in some way.

 

Sometime after Tempe and Jack left, the orchestra had suddenly stopped playing the zydeco music and the unlikely strains of a minuet had filled the room. Everyone looked up in surprise. Then as it had when he entered, the crowd split, giving the swordsman a wide berth as he strode purposefully across the ballroom floor toward Montana’s side of the room, his gaze locked on hers the whole way. Surely… she broke the contact to search the area around her, but there was no one nearby. He was coming for her. Her Dinnshencha reared up, readying for this formal meeting. It seemed impossible that she hadn’t actually met him yet.

 

Buy Links

https://liviaquinn.com/product/box-set1-destiny/

 

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25376702-destiny-storm-lake-box-set-1?

 

Livia Quinn Head Shot_M9A0603 square sml copy

 

Author Biography

Livia Quinn is a DC native who lives by the bayou in Louisiana. She believes in the power of love. To see excerpts from all her books visit https://liviaquinn.com

 

Social Media Links

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

Her new Website: http://liviaquinn.com

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

Twitter    http://twitter.com/liviaquinn

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/liviaquinn

Goodreads http://bit.ly/22VXuev

Livia’s Author Central page http://amzn.to/1T5qmhN

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

Linkedin http://bit.ly/2dbYAP2

Instagram http://instagram.com/liviaquinnauthor

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

Livia Quinn’s Facebook Reader Group http://bit.ly/2gBFQ12

 

Chase Tinker and the House of Magic by @malia_ann #MGLit #99cents #fantasy


Book 1 Magic

 

Title:  Chase Tinker and the House of Magic (The Chase Tinker Series, Book 1)

Author:  Malia Ann Haberman

Genre:  Middle Grade/Tween Fantasy

 

Book Blurb:

 

Chase Tinker has never believed in real, honest-to-goodness magic, but that’s all about to change when he’s attacked by a ferocious…soccer ball and t-shirts!?
 
Before he knows what’s hit him, he’s thrust into a frightening, yet thrilling, paranormal world where a missing dad, out-of-control powers, a 560 year old, incredibly magical house, and a dastardly wicked enemy are only part of all the craziness.

Now it’s up to three daring teenagers, one cute middle grader, and one feisty ferret to save the world’s magic, free will, and light…

 

Excerpt:

Andy gripped Chase’s shoulder. “It was me! I did something, but I didn’t mean to. I wanted you to stop. You were going to be squashed!” He wouldn’t stop babbling. “No one was moving. What’s going on? I don’t get it. Why—”

 

“I—I don’t know, Andy. I don’t know,” said Chase, his voice shaking slightly as he clambered to his feet. “Calm down, okay?” He needed time to think. There had to be some kind of reasonable explanation for all the freaky supernatural happenings. He just didn’t know what it was at the moment. “Come on, we better go home. Grab the ball.”

 

Neither boy said anything as they hurried across the noisy, traffic-filled streets and dodged past other pedestrians. Chase, his mind spinning, kept sneaking glances at Andy. He was afraid his brother would faint dead away right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

 

Chase breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached their apartment building. Andy pushed through the revolving door. Chase was about to follow when, out of the blue, an eerie, icy breeze ruffled his hair and swirled around him. Rubbing the goosebumps popping up on his arms, he started to glance back over his shoulder when someone shoved him from behind and toward the open back door of a waiting cab. Tripping, he whacked his head on the door’s top corner. The shadowy interior loomed closer as stars danced in front of his eyes. A hand grabbed his arm.

 

“Chase! What are you doing?” exclaimed Andy’s voice. Chase shook his head to clear it as Andy pulled him away from the vehicle.

 

“Wh-what?” mumbled Chase.

 

“Quit messing around,” said Andy, tugging Chase across the sidewalk. “We need to go inside.”

 

A hooded man slipped by the boys. As the man turned his head, Chase caught a glimpse of cold, piercing, light-blue eyes that seemed to cut right through him. The strange man slid into the taxi. It swerved into traffic and took off down the street. Feeling oddly threatened, yet not understanding why, Chase followed Andy through the rotating door.

 

image003

 

Special Amazon Promotion:

 

Get book 1 for 99 cents at Amazon US (slightly higher at CA and UK)!

Get the whole series (4 books) for $4.96 at Amazon US (slightly higher at CA and UK)!

 

Buy Links for Book 1:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Chase-Tinker-House-Magic-Book-ebook/dp/B01LYDRRVV

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/Chase-Tinker-House-Magic-Book-ebook/dp/B01LYDRRVV

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Chase-Tinker-House-Magic-Book-ebook/dp/B01LYDRRVV

 

Buy Links for Whole Series:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01M30BGEE?ref=series_rw_dp_labf

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B01M30BGEE?ref=series_rw_dp_labf

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01M30BGEE?ref=series_rw_dp_labf

 

Malia photo

 

Author Biography:

Besides being an Author, Malia is a Ballroom Dance Instructor and Ferret-Sitter. She was bitten by the writing bug in her teens, where at that time she wanted to write sappy love stories with loads of angst and smooching. It was some years later that she changed her mind and decided to study creative writing for middle graders and tweens, and anyone else who would enjoy her wild and crazy imagination. One night she had a dream that she lived in a house where every room had a fabulous magical power in it. And that’s how her “Chase Tinker Series” came to be. (She’s currently working on an Andy Tinker sequel.) She also loves pizza, chocolate, reading, colorful Christmas lights, and watching TV. She’d love to have the awesome abilities to teleport and move things with her mind. Malia lives in the Seattle area with her cute little ferrets.

 

Social Media Links:

Website: http://maliaannhaberman.weebly.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/malia_ann

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5769159.Malia_Ann_Haberman

 

 

Betting On Kincade by @devonmckay2014 #romance #westernromance #TWRP


BettingonKincade_w10191_750

 

Betting On Kincade by Devon McKay

Genre: Contemporary Western Romance

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

Blurb:

Everyone Cassie Wilcox loved is gone. And now, thanks to her drunken stepfather, her house and family business will be taken from her, too, unless she can find a way to buy back the ranch from the new owner. With less than two months to come up with money she doesn’t have, her options are running out, and apparently, her common sense as she rents out rooms to an eclectic group of strangers.

 

Returning home for Dalton Kincade is bittersweet. Not a damn thing has changed. Two years on the rodeo circuit weren’t able to shake free the memory of the feisty redhead who’d broken his heart into a thousand pieces. Nor the sting of her parting words…Never trust a Kincade.

 

Winning her beloved ranch in a drunken bet is the last thing he expected to happen, but at least he saved it for her. Now, he has to figure out how to break that news to a woman who never wants to see him again. Renting a room in the house he now owns might be a risk, but it’s nothing compared to betting his heart on winning back the love of his life.

 

Excerpt:

“Are you going to play or just sit there?” Gary Evans slurred in drunken angst as he kicked back his chair and leaned over the table. Not waiting for a reply, he picked up the crisp piece of paper lodged between them, waved it in the air, and then, slammed the deed to the Wilcox land back down on the hard pressed wood.

Cautiously, Dalton stationed a deadly stare on the intoxicated fool and noted the shimmering of glee highlighting the steel gray of the man’s eyes. Tapping the top card, he slowly trailed his finger along the swirled red print.

He was a loser no matter the outcome. Should’ve just walked away. Ignored Gary’s foolish bet and the taunts that followed once the hook had been set. It wasn’t as if Cassie would appreciate his effort anyway. Regardless, he couldn’t walk away and let her lose it all.

Clenching his jaw, he folded his fingers around the squared edges and paused before picking up the pile.

“Read ‘em and weep,” Gary squealed gleefully as he tossed his cards next to the deed. “Four deuces.” He stumbled from the end of the table, closing the gap between them in one stride, before managing to shove a quadruple of stubby digits in front of Dalton’s face. “Four.”

Dalton studied his hand with guarded fury, then stifled the drunkard’s premature victory with a flick of his wrist.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Betting-Kincade-Devon-McKay-ebook/dp/B01MQXJWK9

Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/Betting-Kincade-Devon-McKay-ebook/dp/B01MQXJWK9

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Betting-Kincade-Devon-McKay-ebook/dp/B01MQXJWK9

Publisher http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/paperback-books/4921-betting-on-kincade-paperback.html

 

Inger

Devon McKay Bio:

Devon McKay writes contemporary romance with a western flair. If she’s not writing, she’s busy with chores on her small ranch, working on a stained glass project or walking one of her three dogs through the woods. Her greatest joy is putting a smile on a readers face and hearing from fans.

Please check out Devon’s website at: http://Authordevonmckay.com  or contact her by email at: dev.mckay@yahoo.com . You can also follow her on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/DevonMcKay2014

and on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/devonmckay2014

#CoverReveal — Fat Girl Begone! by @denaehaggerty #romance #romanticcomedy


FatGirlBegone_final

 

Title: Fat Girl Begone!

 

Author: D. E. Haggerty

 

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance

 

Book Blurb:

I’m a total mess. My boyfriend dumped me – get this – because I diet too much. Not because I’m fat, mind you. Of course, this spurs me into the diet-fitness-revenge-plan of the century, which leads me to the gym and a scorching hot personal trainer. I even manage to make some cool new friends, including a millionaire if you can believe it. Things are looking up! Naturally, that’s the moment my ex decides he wants me back, the personal trainer asks me out, and my millionaire male buddy decides to throw his hat in the ring. But that’s not enough drama. No, not for me. Because I’ve also lost my job and decided to start my own business. Just call me Ms. Drama.

 

Warning: Bad language, bumpy roads, and embarrassing moments ahead. But there’s also more than a bit of romance and even, if we’re lucky, love. Fingers crossed.

 

Not endorsed by or affiliated with any brand of tequila.

 

FGBteaser1

 

Excerpt:

Carter is changed into street clothes by the time I join him at the entrance to the gym. He’s wearing jeans with more holes than material and a Star Wars t-shirt with a picture of a storm trooper and the words ‘Chicks dig the uniform’ printed underneath.

 

“In case anyone was confused about whether you’re a geek or not?” I raise an eyebrow at him as I try not to laugh out loud. Or at least not too loud.

 

He shrugs. “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

 

“Okay. A well-rounded geek who can quote Oscar Wilde.”

 

“That’s Oscar Wilde?” He winks. “Come on. There’s a little bar next door.”

 

We quickly walk to the bar where I am obviously not the only person enjoying the pleasure of athleisure apparel. “Someone took the whole location, location, location advice and ran with it.” The place is the standard model of a sports bar except it’s not full of men getting off work and catching a game on the big screen. Nope. The place is packed with people telling themselves that the calories in the beer don’t count if they worked out first. At least that’s what I plan on telling myself.

 

Carter puts his hand on the small of my back and gently leads me to a small high table to the side of the bar. “Tequila?”

 

I shake my head. “Not unless you want to find out if this high table can support my weight when I decide to dance on it.”

 

He looks under the table and studies the joints. “Looks like it can take it.”

 

“Are you an engineer as well as Star Wars aficionado?”

 

He shrugs. “Does software engineer count?” I ignore his question and ask for a beer.

 

“So,” Carter starts as he sets down two extra-large frosty mugs of beer. “What’s going on?”

 

I shrug and take a long pull on my beer. “It’s just been a really tough week.”

 

“You looked pretty happy when you finished with your personal trainer on Wednesday.” Is that a jealous tone I detect? I study Carter’s face, but he keeps his expression neutral as he takes a drink from his mug.

 

“Just some issues at work.”

 

“Anything I can help with?”

 

I bark out a laugh. “Not unless you have $150,000 you can part with.”

 

“I can loan you the money if you like.” He says the words as if it’s no big deal to have access to that kind of money. Who is this guy?

 

“Do you really have that kind of money?” I slap my hand over my mouth when I realize what I just asked. “Forget I said that. I’m sorry.”

 

Carter shrugs. “I’m not. It’s no secret that I have some money. If you need it, all you have to do is ask.”

 

I lean forward and study his face for signs he’s pulling my leg. “Oh my god, you’re not kidding. You do have the money.”

 

He raises an eyebrow at me. “You really don’t know who I am?”

 

Is that some kind of trick question? “You’re Carter.” I point to his t-shirt. “Lover of Star Wars. I’m still in suspense about whether you love Star Trek as well.”

 

“You’ll just have to wait to find out.” He winks before leaning back. He stares at me and remains quiet for longer than is comfortable. Finally, he shrugs. “You may have heard of my company. Carter Enterprises.”

 

“So, you do love Star Trek!”

 

FGBteaser2

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Fat-girl-Begone-D-E-Haggerty-ebook/dp/B06XTSHJHB/

 

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/714063

 

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fat-girl-begone-de-haggerty/1126081046?ean=2940154089385

 

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/nl/en/ebook/fat-girl-begone

 

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/fat-girl-begone/id1221566707?mt=11

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34683994-fat-girl-begone

 

 dena-haggerty

 

Author Biography:

I grew-up reading everything I could get my grubby hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although on the odd occasion I did manage to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. After surviving the army experience, I went back to school and got my law degree. I jumped ship and joined the hubby in the Netherlands before the graduation ceremony could even begin. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. But being a lawyer really wasn’t my thing, so I quit (again!) and went off to Germany to start a B&B. Turns out being a B&B owner wasn’t my thing either. I polished off that manuscript languishing in the attic before deciding to follow the husband to Istanbul where I decided to give the whole writer-thing a go. But ten years was too many to stay away from adopted home. I packed up again and moved to The Hague where I’m currently working on my next book. I hope I’ll always be working on my next book.

 

Fat Girl Begone! is my eleventh book.

 

 

Social Media Links:

Website: http://dehaggerty.wordpress.com

Blog: https://dehaggerty.wordpress.com/category/mymusings/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/denaehaggerty

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7210211.D_E_Haggerty

Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/D.E.-Haggerty/e/B00ECQBURU/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_5?qid=1438239628&sr=8-5

Newsletter signup: http://eepurl.com/bbmdj9

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+DEHaggerty/posts

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

Email: dena@dehaggerty.com

“Please don’t let me kill a tourist” Ukulele Murder by @LeslieLangtry #99cents #cozymystery


UkuleleMurder

 

Title:  UKULELE MURDER

Author: Leslie Langtry

Genre:  Cozy Mystery

Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing

 

Book Blurb: 

Nani Johnson thought she had it made when she moved from Kansas to the resort town of Aloha Lagoon, Kauai. In spite of her certifiably crazy mom, Nani is determined that nothing will stop her from becoming a ukulele virtuoso! Unfortunately her Julliard training doesn’t help her break into the local music scene due to some heavy competition from the Terrible Trio—three hostile, local musicians. The only work she finds is a few bar mitzvahs and gigs at the kitschy Blue Hawaii Wedding Chapel.

But when one of Nani’s competitors drops dead right after a public feud, Nani becomes the police’s main suspect. A missing murder weapon, mysterious threats, and a heck of a frame-up job all have Nani worrying she’ll be trading in her flowery muumuus for prison orange. Enter hunky local botanist Nick Woodfield, who just might be able to help her clear her name…that is if he doesn’t have secrets of his own. With the bodies stacking up, the danger closing in, and the authorities circling, Nani must track down a killer…before she ends up the latest victim of the Ukulele Murderer!

 

99 CentsSale

 

Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

 

If anyone requests “Ukulele Lady,” I’m out of here. I’m not going to do it. Not again. Not for the millionth time. Is that the only song tourists know? Yeesh. Please, tiki god of the Ukulele, don’t let me kill a tourist today.

 

“‘Ukulele Lady!'” a dumpy, middle-aged man in a Frankie Goes to Hollywood T-shirt screams. He gives me a knowing nod with his balding head to indicate he’s the only one in the room who knows true Hawaiian culture.

 

I hate him. I imagine bludgeoning him with my koa wood uke.

 

But I don’t. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of koa wood? Well…I don’t know either, but I’d guess it isn’t easy.

 

Instead, I play the damn song—smiling as I imagine shoving his pineapple drink up his…

 

The crowd cheers as I perform. I know—it’s not so bad having an adoring audience. But this isn’t the audience I want. This is Judah Horowitz’s bar mitzvah. One of the few gigs I could get in Aloha Lagoon.

 

My name is Hoalohanani Johnson. My mother, Harriet Jones Johnson, is a bit of a Hawaiian-obsessed nut. It’s so bad that it’s to the point where she believes she is the reincarnation of a Hawaiian princess and says that my name came from a dream from an ancestor god. In reality, it probably came from the bottom of a rum bottle.

 

To her endless annoyance, my redheaded, green-eyed mom comes from a long line of English ancestors and grew up in Kansas. Dad was a third-generation blond, brown-eyed German whose name was shortened to Johnson due to the inability to pronounce whatever the name really was. Neither of my parents had ever been to Hawaii until Mom and I moved here after Dad died.

 

I go by Nani. And I now live in Aloha Lagoon on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, with my mother, who now calls herself Haliaka and dyes her hair and eyebrows a ridiculous shade of black that does not look natural. I’ve never understood where my dark-brown hair comes from, but I look more native than she does. Always dressed in a muumuu, Mom wears hibiscus flowers in her hair and hangs out on my lanai, singing island songs all day and night, much to my neighbors’ dismay. Sigh.

 

I finish my set, tell the crowd “aloha,” and am cut off by the DJ who decides suddenly to play a gangsta rap song.

 

“Thank you!” Gladys Horowitz of Trenton, New Jersey, and Judah’s mother, slips an envelope into my hands before running to the dance floor to shimmy disturbingly. Thirteen-year-old Judah hangs his head in shame.

 

I make my way through the crowd to the bar and order a decidedly un-Hawaiian vodka tonic.

 

“Here’s the ten bucks I owe you.” The bartender smiles, handing me money.

 

I gulp my drink, slapping an empty glass on the bar. “I told you, someone requests it every time.” I take his money and head to my car. My shift in hell is over.

 

 

BUY LINKS (99c Sale April 10 – 16, 2017):

Amazon: http://a.co/hGWKKn7

 

B&N:  http://bit.ly/1TlQ0MC

 

iBooks:  http://apple.co/1Vo1WRB

 

Google Play:  http://bit.ly/2lPwb4f

 

Kobo:  http://bit.ly/2n7E1qY

 

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1Sx66mq

 

Print: http://bit.ly/2lxqZqd

 

Leslie Langtry

 

Author Biography:

Leslie Langtry is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Bombay Greatest Hits Series, Merry Wrath Mysteries & the Ukulele Mysteries. She lives in the Midwest with her family and an alarming menagerie of pets. She loves cake.

 

Social Media Links:

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

Twitter https://twitter.com/LeslieLangtry

 

 

Meet @RobShackleford and his New Release, Traveller Inceptio #books #SFF #amreading


 Rob_Shackleford_1

 

As many of you know, I love reading historical fiction. The reason? I love learning about history through the eyes of people who experienced it.  History comes alive, if well-researched and well-written. I first met Rob Shackleford a few months ago and was instantly intrigued. I convinced him to sit down with me for an honest interview. I’d ask some pretty tough questions and he’d have to answer them. It’s my great pleasure to introduce Rob Shackleford to the POTL Blog. Please give him a warm welcome. Take it away, Rob:

 

What is your writing process?

Perhaps the most important part of my process is research. My story involves detailed descriptions of the English Saxon world of around 11th Century. It also involves the Special Forces troops who are sent there. This has meant intensive research into both areas, ie History and the military. When it came to the 11th Century Saxon community, I had to learn what they ate, what were their attitudes to religion, what their homes were like, how they dressed, even their attitudes towards sex. Everything had to be researched to make the story stand up to any sort of scrutiny, especially scholarly scrutiny. Only then can the story be told with any degree of reliability.

 

Once the research was completed in the areas I targeted, the story could unfold. Many times I discovered I was writing the narrative in a direction I didn’t realise it would take. That then required more research. In my attempt to make the story as realistic as possible, the story involved some surprising developments, that is, it was surprising to me.

 

Once the story was told, I went back to rewrite, to improve grammar, description, and then develop speaking parts, which allowed for more character development and fine tuning of the events in the story.

 

Just as your books inspire authors, what authors have inspired you?

I have always enjoyed the mind-broadening aspects of great science fiction works, so some of the classic authors such as H. G. Wells, Arthur Clarke, Robert Heinlein and Frank Herbert are just a few of the many who allowed me to submerge into bold new worlds and ideas. I have grown to better appreciate the difference between great storytelling from authors such as Stephen king, to true wordsmiths who paint a portrait with their breathtaking language, one who comes to mind is Yann Martel for the Life of Pi.

 

Other inspirations are found in islands of Robert Louis Stevenson, the humour of Mark Train, the insight of George Orwell, the razor-sharp social commentary of Jack Kerouac, to name but a few authors who changed the world.

 

I would be remiss not to mention J. K. Rolling and her epic Harry Potter tales, a legend in market adaptation and commercial success.

 

While I feebly aspire to develop my own creative writing skills, I opt to be a story teller, hopefully a great one. One day, I hope the two will merge.

 

What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

Being an author is a tough gig. It takes time and lots of dedication. Most of all it takes belief in yourself, which can be the most challenging task of all. Think of it as a professional sportsperson. Sometimes one is discovered and shoots to the top of the charts, but most of the time any success is through the good, old fashioned hard slog. Even then, luck, or shall I say good fortune, is a part of being discovered.

 

Like most of the arts today, such as the music industry, or art, the process is so much tougher, so much longer. The days of million-dollar first book contracts are long gone.

 

With today’s technology we are so very fortunate to see the emergence of great authors, whether they are best sellers or not. The biggest challenge is to get your work out there, make it shine, and then do the marketing and get exposure. But don’t despair. Write your novel or your poetry. Give birth to your dream, and then learn and go through the process that the world requires of you. Even if you bring delight and inspiration to only one other, it will be worth it.

 

Are you a plotter or a pantster?

It seems I am a bit of both. I have the book’s broad structure in my head and then I develop the characters and chapters one step at a time. I need the broad structure so as to not ramble, but sometimes the story heads in a direction that surprises me. I don’t think it’s ghost writing. At least I hope it isn’t. It’s just describing the responses of humans placed in challenging situations.

 

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

Traveller Inceptio – which means “Beginning” in Latin, as spoken by the clergy in 11th Century England, lends itself to a sequel.

 

I have almost completed the first draft for Traveller Probo, which means ‘to inquire or prove’. All I can suggest is that the success of the English Traveller missions receives intense international attention and envy, causing nations to compete to engage in their own missions to send their own Travellers 1000 years into the past. It’s like a space-race, only a lot cheaper and easier.

 

But is this a wise course of action?  Who can say?

 

Traveller Probo examines the social and political consequences of the English Saxon mission, and how more missions are planned to send more Special Forces historical researchers to the world of 1000 years ago.

 

 

What is the biggest fib you’ve ever told?

Once when working for the media they wanted someone who had driven racing cars to participate in a media race event. Though I was never any kind of media star, I fibbed and said I had the experience and was given the gig. On race-day, I couldn’t even change the gears, but once I was shown I did quite well, as none of the other media participants dared drive fast. I did bounce off the walls a few times and won the race, though the car owner wasn’t pleased as there were bold, new scratches down the side of his nicely painted yellow race-car.

 

It was, I must say, a worthwhile fib.

 

Or

 

Didn’t hurt a bit – after having my teeth ground without anesthetic for caps by a dentist in India. I aged 5 years and dropped 2 kilos from sweat.

 

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

Crystallized Ginger, and Licorice (the British type). If you bring that stuff around, don’t expect me to share.

 

What literary character is most like you?

As a kid I was a bit like Tom Sawyer in that I managed to get things … done. When I was about 8 years old I recall being picked on by a kid, so I enlisted the abilities of a big, not too bright kid I barely knew to go into battle for me. They both got into trouble for fighting on the parade ground just as school parade was about to start. I was never picked on again.
My Teacher saw what had happened and, without me knowing, had a chat to my parents. Years later they told me about it. My dad thought it was the funniest thing ever.

 

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

A cat owned by my partner. She spoils that creature rotten. All I would have to do is avoid being gelded at the vet.

 

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

Here’s a few: See a tornado, Scuba dive with sharks – me in a shark cage that is, climb a live volcano, hike a glacier.

 

 Traveller-Inceptio-5x8

 

Title: Traveller Inceptio

Author: Rob Shackleford

Genre: Science Fiction, Historical, Action

Publisher: Book Baby – E Publishing only.

 

Book Blurb:

If you were sent a thousand years into the past, would you survive?

 

With the accidental development of the Transporter, university researchers determine that the device sends any subject one thousand years into the past.

 

Or is it to a possible past?

 

The enigmatic Transporter soon becomes known as a Time Machine, but with limitations.

 

An audacious research project is devised to use the Transporter to investigate Medieval Saxon England, when a crack international team of Special Services soldiers undergo intensive training for their role as historical researchers.

 

The special researchers, called Travellers, are to be sent into what is a very dangerous period in England’s turbulent past.

 

From the beaches of Australia to the forests of Saxon England, Traveller – Inceptio reveals how Travellers soon learn that they need more than combat skills and modern technology to survive the trails of early 11th Century life.

 

 

Excerpt:

Michael makes a chance meeting upon a lonely monk in the depths of the English forest.

The monk stood before Michael and wept in an open-mouthed cry that looked unlike grief or fear but looked more like … joy? He didn’t appear to be as afraid for his life as one would have thought when confronted by an armed man in the depths of the forest.

 

To make matters even more disconcerting, he moved forward until his face was but a hand’s breadth away from Michael. There was an impression of rotten teeth and bad breath, an almost a physical assault from which he immediately recoiled. Many of the monk’s teeth were missing. Obviously, he rarely shaved as his face was covered with stubble that could have been blonde or grey, so the man’s age was almost impossible to determine. Thick, grey hairs and pocked blackheads decorated the end of his bulbous nose as pale grey eyes gazed adoringly up at the newcomer. As the monk wept, Michael froze uncomfortably.

 

Without warning, the monk moved as if to give Michael a hug and it was all he could do to fend the smaller man off with raised hands. Thankfully the small man stopped at the last moment. There was no desire for any close contact with the damp wool that stank heavily. Quickly Michael scanned his surrounds as he realised this monk would be a perfect distraction for brigands, for he was completely immobilised by the man’s emotional reaction. As he watched aghast, the sobbing monk sank slowly to his knees while his tearful eyes never left Michael’s face. Tears poured down his weathered, whiskered cheeks and soon the childlike weeping began to distress. Michael had seen weeping in many places; weeping of mothers for sons, of fathers for children, but nothing quite as mysterious as this. He crouched in front of the monk and reached to touch the man’s grubby hands, his other hand still on his short-sword, just in case.

 

As he reached out, his hand was grasped and held by the monk’s hard, heavily veined hands with swollen arthritic knuckles, hands obviously aggravated by a life of hard physical labour. Before he could react, the monk kissed his hand passionately. He felt the bristly face and a damp slobber of snot and his initial reaction to pull away. He uncomfortably patted the monk’s shoulder and made soothing noises before he retrieved his hand and stood as he encouraged the other to rise. More kisses were threatened, so he hurriedly addressed the monk in Latin, supposing he could speak the lingua franca of clergy throughout Christendom. “Peace be unto you brother,” he said as he gave his slobbered hand a tactful wipe on the seat of his breaches.

 

“And to you” was the automatic sobbed response. There was an accent and the words were understood though, at first, difficult to decipher.

 

“What is your name?” asked Michael.

 

“My name?” the monk asked in a daze as if stunned at such a question. “Oeric, Lord, Brother Oeric,” he replied quietly as he briefly averted his eyes.

 

“Oeric. Greetings Brother Oeric my name is ..” and he paused. He knew it was best to provide his name in a format best suited to the local language. “My name is Michael.” He pronounced it ‘Meekal’ to give the pronunciation that he assumed would suit.

 

At the name, Brother Oeric wailed loudly and again placed his trembling, worn hands over his face. Before Michael could react, the man again fell to his knees and bent to place his face on the leaf litter. Michael again scanned the surrounding forest uncomfortably.

 

Indeed, they were alone.

 

He knelt and awkwardly patted the prostrate Brother Oeric on the shoulder. “Oeric, Brother Oeric, is something wrong? Why do you weep? Come now, stand and tell me, what is the matter?”

 

After a titanic struggle, Brother Oeric managed to retain some control. Rising to his knees he wiped his freely running nose and eyes on the cloth that hung over his chest, a simple square of wool with a head hole that was his scapula, designed to protect his long brown tunic. Michael noted the silver line of snot and decided that if another hug was attempted, that was good enough reason to keep the monk at arm’s-length. Brother Oeric wore a simple, one-piece robe of rough, raw, dark-brown wool that enabled him to blend effectively with the forest. Attached to his scapula was a cowl or large hood to offer protection from snow or rain in a fashion similar to the hood Michael wore on his own cloak. Michael watched the small man clutch his shaking hands together in a moment of muttered prayer before he looked up again. “Lord I give thanks that you are here”, he said with eyes that were again downcast. He paused and gazed adoringly at Michael, a look that was supposed to be a quick glance but which ended in a stare akin to wonder.

 

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=traveller+Inceptio

Book Baby Bookshop

https://store.bookbaby.com/book/Traveller—Inceptio

Kobo

https://www.kobo.com/au/en/ebook/traveller-inceptio

Ciando

http://www.ciando.com/ebook/bid-2275297-traveller-inceptio.html?CFID=79ddd9b3-b737-4881-bf49-ea01a6cc5540&CFTOKEN=0&jsessionid=BA4D06F95BB7D448581D807B0D38E62D

 

Author Biography:

An English-born Australian, Rob Shackleford has lived in New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, with a varied career that has included Customs Officer, Scuba Instructor, College Teacher and management roles in too many places.

With degrees in the Arts and Business, he is mad keen on travel, Scuba diving, Family History, martial arts, astronomy, and playing Djembe and Congas.

Rob is father of two and lives on the Gold Coast.

 

Social Media Links:

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/Rob-Shackleford-631222523675665/

Twitter

https://twitter.com/robshackleford

Pinterest

https://au.pinterest.com/robshackl/

Linked In

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

Google +

https://plus.google.com/102561844150525059395

 

 

 

Her General in Gray by @LNightingale #historicalromance #TWRP #Giveaway


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Title: Her General in Gray

Author: Linda Nightingale

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

Tagline:

A Massachusetts lass purchases a southern plantation that comes complete with the ghost of a Civil War General—for the Confederacy.  Sparks fly!

 

Blurb:

Autumn Hartley purchases Allen Hall at a steal, but the northern lass gets far more than a beautiful plantation in the South Carolina Low Country. The house comes complete with its own ghost, a handsome and charming Civil War General—for the Confederacy. The stage is set for another civil conflict.

 

John Sibley Allen died in battle from a wound in the back, the bullet fired by the turncoat, Beauregard Dudley. The traitor’s reincarnation is Autumn the Interloper’s first dinner guest. Sib bedevils her date and annoys her with fleeting, phantom touches, certain he can frighten her away as he did previous purchasers. As time marches on, her resident ghost becomes more appealing while her suitor, Beau, pales in comparison. Autumn finds her ability to love didn’t perish in the divorce that sent her south seeking a fresh start.

 

After over a century in the hereafter, Sib discovers he is falling for none other than the feisty Yankee girl, but what future could a modern woman and an old-fashioned ghost possibly hope for?

 

Giveaway (2 Winners):

Enter to win a pdf of any one book of Linda Nightingale’s backlist

 

Enter to win an e-copy of Cardinal Desires

 

To enter, tell us if you could spend a day in any historical time period, what would it be? Leave your answer in the comment box below.

 

Linda Nightingale will choose the winners on Tuesday, April 11, 2017.

 

Excerpt:

“You are not there.” Autumn dropped her book and leapt to her feet, shaking her fist at the apparition standing beside the fireplace.

 

The frolicking blaze shone through the whatever-he-was lounging by the hearth, his arm stretched along the mantel.  A ceramic clock beside his hand chimed the hour—seven golden notes. Tall candles in brass candlesticks flickered in an eerie fire dance. He appeared to be a Civil War soldier of the South, his opaque uniform gray with a nasty red-stained hole near the heart.  Double rows of gold buttons decorated the coat. Three gold stars and a wreath on the collar glittered in the firelight. No blood spilled from the apparition.  Except for his wound, he looked perfectly healthy—for a dead man!  He nodded and bowed elegantly…as much so as his lost society had been, regardless of the strong backs supporting that way of life.

 

“Oh, but I am, Miss Hartley.”  He straightened, longish hair gently curling over his face.

 

A chill raced over her, but she suppressed the tremor of apprehension.  Autumn swallowed hard and adjusted her white cotton blouse.  “I don’t believe in ghosts.  You’re not welcome here. I bought this house and am struggling to pay for it.  Get your Halloween self out of my living room.”

 

He smiled.  “It’s not 0048alloween, and we share this house.  It was mine, you know, and still is.  I’m willing to share it with you—even if you are a Yankee.  After all, the conflict is over, and I’ll hold no grudge against the Northern aggressors. Even though the South will never surrender.”

 

“Northern aggressors?”  She inhaled sharply, the vanilla scent of the candles on the dining room table drifting into the living room.  Everything about Allen Hall was beautiful. She loved the house. But this conversation with an arrogant spirit solidified defiance.  “And, for your information, the South did surrender.”

 

“A point of history.” He shrugged and gave her a condescending glance. “No more.”

 

 

Buy Links:

Publisher http://thewildrosepress/

 

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Her-General-Gray-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B06W9HFMBM/

 

Linda Nightingale

 

Author Biography:

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

 

 

Linda has won several writing awards, including the Georgia Romance Writers Magnolia Award and the SARA Merritt.  She is now a finalist in the 2016 SARA Merritt. She is the mother of two wonderful sons, a retired legal assistant, member of the Houston Miata Club, and enjoys events with that car club.  Among her favorite things are her snazzy black convertible and her parlor grand piano.  She loves to dress up and host formal dinner parties.  PS The piano plays itself!

 

 

Social Media Links:

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/LNightingale

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

Edna and Luna by Gleah Powers @GPWriterArtist #fiction #womensfiction #giveaway


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Title—EDNA AND LUNA

Author —Gleah Powers

Genre—Fiction

Publisher—Vine Leaves Press

 

Book Blurb

Set in the American Southwest, Edna and Luna is the story of two women: a lonely, recently widowed eccentric and a much younger new age healer. Facing old age and a hysterectomy, Edna, at 70, reminisces and ruminates about her losses as she makes unsuccessful attempts to start a new life. She tries to befriend her hairdresser, her gardener and a man she meets at a senior dance who makes sexual advances in the swimming pool. Luna, at 35, ridiculed since childhood for her unorthodox gift of healing, has left a violent husband before moving to a local trailer park. Despite Edna’s initial suspicions that Luna is both out of her mind and after her money, their relationship becomes an odyssey filled with unpredictable depths and discoveries for both women.

 

 

Giveaway—

Enter to win one of two copies of EDNA AND LUNA

Open Internationally and runs April 5 through May 5

Click here to enter: http://gvwy.io/n8lctns

 

 

Excerpt—

Edna wheeled her cart over to the chicken cooler and after scrutinizing the size, weight, date and price, put a three pack of breasts in her cart. She made her way to lemons. She’d had a craving all week for the lemon cake she used to make for Hank on Sundays. As she sniffed one lemon after another testing for sweetness, an unkempt woman appeared beside her and began moving her hands through the air over the pink grapefruits. Her nails were dirty and the joints of her fingers were knobby. Edna had read that that came from too much knuckle cracking. The woman wore a big silver ring with a milky white stone held in place with star-shaped prongs. Edna had seen her in the market before but not this close. Suddenly she felt another twinge in her pelvis and dropped her bag of lemons. She tried the breathing exercise again, but this time it didn’t work. Edna put her hand over her belly and said to the cramp, “Knock it off.”

 

“Were you talking to me?” The tall wiry woman had stringy blonde hair that hung over the sides of her face and Edna could see her nipples through her flimsy top.

 

“No, I wasn’t.”

 

“Am I in your way? I was just checking to see which of these grapefruits wanted to go home with me.” The woman told Edna she’d just moved to town and was scouting the markets in Phoenix to see where she best resonated with the food.

“Are you okay? I noticed you were holding your stomach.”
“I’m fine.”  Edna snapped a plastic bag off the roll above her head.

 

“Are you sure you don’t need some help? I could at least pick out some lemons for you. I just need to touch your arm so I can feel your energy.”

 

“No, thank you.” Edna pulled her shoulders back.

 

“I love that you’re wearing a Christmas tree in the summertime. I do that. Leave my tree up all year long.”

 

“If you must know, it has nothing to do with Christmas. It just so happens December 25th is my birthday. This is a birthday pin.” Edna was tired of feeling obligated to speak and exchange smiles with strangers. Even when she was young, men she didn’t know would come right up to her on a street corner and say, “Smile, honey. It can’t be all that bad.” Now that she was older and a widow, she realized she could get away with things like bumping into people who were in her way or stepping on their feet and then pretending she’d lost her balance, which she decided to do with the barefooted woman now.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

 

“It’s okay.” The woman picked up her foot and began massaging her big toe. “I understand where you’re coming from.”

 

“What? It was an accident.” Edna spun her cart around and headed for the liquor aisle to get her usual half-gallon of Ancient Age. Before checking out, she picked up some frozen dinners and a Sara Lee Fudge cake.  Thank God two people came up behind her in line before the grapefruit woman got there.

 

 

Buy Links—

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble
Book Depository
Chapters Indigo

 

Kindle AUS
Kindle US
Kindle UK
Kindle CA
iBooks | Kobo | Nook

 

 

Gleah Powers

Author Biography—

Born in Chicago and raised and educated in the American Southwest, Gleah Powers has led a life by turns grounded and nomadic—a perfect preparation for discovering in herself the voices of Edna and Luna. In her early teens, she lived with her grandmother in Phoenix. At 18, she traveled with the production of Michelangelo Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point. (Antonioni, suffering from insomnia, liked that Gleah was a worthy opponent at cards. She even taught him to play gin rummy.) Thereafter she studied art in Mexico City and at Cal Arts in Los Angeles; moved to New York where she worked as an actor, model, bartender and administrative assistant to a wealthy philanthropist; and became an explorer and teacher of alternative therapies. These adventures will be detailed in the memoir she is currently writing. Edna and Luna is her first novel. Visit her website at: www.gleahpowers.com

 

Social Media Links—

https://www.facebook.com/gleahpowersauthor/

https://twitter.com/GPwriterartist

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15429014.Gleah_Powers

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

http://www.gleahpowers.com/media_kit.html

 

 

Writing #InspirationalRomance With Heart Without Preaching Religion #99cents #FridayReads


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“To produce a mighty book, you must choose a mighty theme.” – Herman Melville

When I sat down to write, Princess of the Light, I never intended on writing inspirational romance. I had just had a moving encounter with a homeless man and had all these thoughts running around in my head. I had to get them down on paper before they floated out of my head. Wait, I should probably start at the beginning.

Five years ago, I was out for my morning walk and I saw a homeless man sitting in front of a gas station. I looked at him, head uplifted to the sun smiling, and wondered what his story was. Why was he smiling? There was such a peace in his weathered face, I stopped walking and openly stared.  I watched him for a while and knew he was different from other homeless people.  He did not ask for money or hold up a sign. He kept to himself and avoided contact.

A voice suddenly entered my head, “What if you could help him? Would you? What if you were chosen to help him and others like him?”

I searched my heart and after a moment, I replied aloud, “Yes, I would.”

“This is what you were called to do.” The voice echoed in my heart.

I went home that very day and started writing. This simple encounter changed my life forever and inspired me to write Princess of the Light, an inspiring paranormal romance.

Writing inspirational romance can be tricky. I must admit I had some difficulty in the beginning. I wanted to inspire people to show kindness to people in their own city, especially those who are less fortunate and in need of food. I wanted to bring to light the hunger epidemic going on in America and Canada, two of the richest countries in the world. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to sound preachy.

The first thing I did was create a story of a woman who is destined to help someone like the homeless man I met. I wanted her to be strong and able to fight off the real and imagined demons tormenting a homeless man. Everyone likes a hero/heroine to root for and I made her female so I could relate to her.

The second thing I did was map out the homeless man and his story. I gave him a name and created a heart-breaking backstory for him. His story arc had to center on redemption and forgiveness, something everyone could relate.

The third thing I did was to write an edge of your seat novel with plenty of action. The story has action, adventure, romance, obstacles, battles, twists and turns. I wanted the reader to get lost in the story, not realizing they are being inspired.

Here are some writing tips I offer to writing inspirational romance:

  • Weave universal themes throughout your plot. You can be inspirational and reach a broader audience if you are universal. Every religion has many of the same morals and tenants to live by. Instead of mentioning specific religious names, use something more general. The main theme to Princess of the Light is Light versus Darkness. I use the term Light to convey spiritual goodness in a universal way. It does not matter what your spiritual belief is, you can relate to good versus evil.

  • Use everyday language. Being inspirational does not mean you have to sound intellectual or high and mighty. I have found when I write in modern English, I can reach more people than by using formal English.

  • Create real characters. I know this sounds like a no-brainer but stick with me for a minute. Creating characters who are human with flaws have a much bigger impact than having perfect-syndrome characters. Remember, you are trying to reach people. If the reader cannot relate to the main characters, they will not hear the message. They will scoff and mutter how that would never happen. Avoid this roadblock by putting your characters in a real situation and have them react in a natural way.

  • Consider donating part of the proceeds to a charity related to your book. Part of the proceeds of my book go directly to food banks and it’s something every reader can get behind. One of my characters is a homeless man and he relies on food banks. Homeless people all over the world need our help and when readers buy my book, they are helping those in need.

  • Never talk down to people. I cannot stress this enough, when writing inspirational, do not talk down to people. For as long as I can remember, I hated reading books where they preached at me about what I was doing wrong. Often, you can have a greater impact if you are on the same level as your reader. Use yourself as an example or if you are writing fiction, show your main character learning a valuable lesson.

  • Concentrate on the emotional arcs in your plot. Characters and circumstances inspire readers so let that be your focus. Ramp up the emotions in your reader by having your characters go through something. Part of my main character’s background is the emotional scarring from her father’s sudden death. It shapes who she is as a woman and explains her protectiveness over the Walking Man when battling the demons.

  • When writing non-fiction, be sure to do your research. With the birth of Wikipedia and Google, anyone can find out the truth about anything. Be historically accurate and be sure to give proper credentials.  There is nothing worse than reading about Joan of Arc and the weapon she uses isn’t invented for one hundred years after her death.

  • When writing a tell-all memoir, please consider changing the names to protect the innocent. We all have family skeletons, out of courtesy to your family while still being truthful, do the reader a favor, and change the names. Have some fun with it.  You will still be able to tell your story and inspire others; you just do not have to out your family to the world.

  • Consider using the journal/diary format for your story. I love the feel and intimacy of reading an inspirational diary. Even if it is fiction, this is a terrific way to tell your story. Everyone loves reading a diary and it draws the reader into the head of the main character so effectively.

  • Let the story tell itself. You have a story burning in your heart and the worst thing you can do is to get in the way of the story. Unleash the characters and let them use you to tell their story. Free yourself of your insecurities and fears. Do not worry if it is a good story or if you are a good writer. You are primarily a storyteller. Let the story be front and center; the rest of the details will work themselves out.

Writing inspiration is not complicated and anyone can do it. The key to writing a successful inspirational story without preaching is reaching people on an emotional level and showing them they can make a difference in their own corner of the world. Helping others is a characteristic inherent in every human being as is spreading the Light.

Princess

Title: Princess of the Light

Author: N. N. Light

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Supernatural, Spiritual Romance

Tagline:

Mary’s the Princess of the Light but her only hope is to make a pact with her enemy.

Blurb:

Mary Miller receives a startling visitation from Gabriel, the Messenger of God. The Archangel reveals an astounding truth–Mary is the Princess of the Light and even more amazing, her destiny is to battle Lucifer’s army of demons and restore the balance of good and evil on Earth. It’s getting harder to fulfill her new role and keep her identity secret while juggling her personal life, and when Than, Lucifer’s second in command, amps up the attacks on her, she knows she needs help.

Joe Deacons is everything she’s ever wanted in a man. And as providence would have it, in a moment of great need, he’s the Warrior of Light–the one who can help her defeat the forces of darkness.

Not so simple when they confront Lisbeth, a demon hell-bent on usurping Than and Lucifer himself.  When Lisbeth wages war and several innocent people die, Mary must form an alliance with her enemy in order to destroy her.  But will this be a grave error or the choice that saves their world?

Excerpt:

I sunk into the water, and let the suds and scent of lavender engulf me.  The stress of the day finally began to melt away.

My body jolted.

I was in the middle of the desert. There were grass huts and women with hajjis walking quickly around me. Something whizzed past my ear, and a deafening explosion rocked me off my feet. I instinctively curled my body in a fetal position.

I listened for the screams to start, but it was eerily silent. I glanced around, but all I saw was water.

I was still in the bath. What had just happened? Was that a vision? Had I fallen asleep?

My headache was a dull thud now.

A knock on the washroom door made me gasp. I sat upright in the tub and heard my roommate, Amber, call in, “Mary, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just must have fallen asleep.”

“Hey, Amber, what time is it?” I looked down at my pruney fingers and wondered how long I was in the tub.

Amber said, “It’s five thirty.”

I leaned forward and turned on the hot water. The bath water had gotten cold while I had drifted off.

I leaned back as the warm water ran over my toes and closed my eyes, wondering what I should wear tonight. I wanted to look beautiful for Joe. I began to picture every outfit in my closet, and tried to imagine his reaction to it.

A shiver ran down my back and I faintly hear the water splash over the edge.

I opened my eyes and tried to scream. All that came out was a reverse gasp, and I pulled my towel in to cover my body.

A small child was in the tub with me. He couldn’t be older than five. Blood was running down his face, and his body was covered in sand mixed with congealing blood. He was clinging to my towel, and I didn’t know whether to let go of it or yank it back from him. His dark hair was wet with fresh blood. My heart filled with sadness and I quit trying to scream.

As I clung to my own towel, I didn’t know what was happening or what I should do.

The little boy raised his head and more sadness poured into my heart. His eyes were dark pools of grief and despair. They pleaded with me, begging me to help.

How? I mouthed silently.

I jumped when he began to move slowly toward me. He lifted one arm and spoke in a language I didn’t recognize. I knew I didn’t know exactly what his words meant, but I knew what he was saying: He was hurt and needed help.

The closer he came, the more my fear eased and the pain increased. He reached for my arm. His hand was bloodied, and it sent a jolt of electricity and agony throughout my body. I tried to pull away, but his grip was locked on my arm. His eyes turned black and murky, and a voice not his own spoke.

“Princess, help my people,” it said.

I shook my head.

“Let go!” I tried to scream again.

The little boy disappeared, and I jumped out of the bathtub, wet towel still wrapped around my body, and crumbled to the floor. The blood was smeared all around me, and I looked at my arm. The blood was still there, too.

I whimpered, scrubbed at my arm until it was raw, and yet I could still see the blood.

Buy Links:

99 Cents at Amazon.com until March 31, 2017

Free on Kindle Unlimited all year long

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Princess-Light-N/dp/1502438453

Amazon Canada: http://www.amazon.ca/Princess-Light-N-ebook/dp/B00N19FDKO

Amazon UK:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Princess-Light-N-ebook/dp/B00N19FDKO

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23009005-princess-of-the-light

Author Bio: N. N. Light is the husband-wife writing team, commonly known as Mr. N and Mrs. N. Mrs. N. has been creating stories ever since she was little. Her grandfather remembers when she was two years old, she would stand at the top of the stairs and tell him a story filled with emotion (and in a language foreign to him) with her hands on her hips. Let’s just say she was a born storyteller.

They’re blissfully happy and love all things chocolate, books, music, movies, art, sports, trains, history, cooking and baking. Their mantra is to spread the Light.

Most of the time you can find them on Twitter or getting new ideas on how to spread the Light on Pinterest. They’re a proud member of ASMSG and Independent Author Network.

Sign up for their author newsletter and get a free e-book ow.ly/jWec308TabL 

In addition to being authors, they’re also book promoters/reviewers, social media marketers/influencers and the owners of N. N. Light Author Promotions. They both love books, have ever since they were young. Matching up books and readers is something that gives them great pleasure.

100% of the proceeds of Princess of the Light go directly to food banks (US and Canada) in order to feed the hungry and help those in need. With only 7,500 books sold, N. N. Light will be able to set up a monthly endowment for the local food bank.

They’d love to connect with you either via email or via these various social media sites:

Website: http://princessofthelight.com

Blog: https://princessofthelight.wordpress.com

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/nnlight

Bookbub  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-n-light

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

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

LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/n-n-light/90/1a7/902

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/118060034268079734144/posts

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/nnlight

Independent Author Network: http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/n-n-light.html

iAuthor: http://www.iauthor.uk.com/princess-of-the-light:10294

#ReleaseDay: Unholy Alliance by @RowlandKathleen #Romanticsuspense #ASMSG #MFRWAuthor


UnholyAlliancebyKathleenRowland200

 

Title: Unholy Alliance

Author: Kathleen Rowland

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing

 

Book Blurb:

A decade ago, Tori Rourke, and her cousin, Vivienne, ran from the Irish mob after witnessing a brutal murder. Tori was framed by the mob, and while she served time in prison, she worried that the killer, Seamus McGinn, had kidnapped her missing cousin.

Attorney Grady D. Fletcher, defender of the wrongly condemned, appeals Tori’s case and wins her release. Now, going by Victoria Morningstar, she runs a food truck from a seedy waterfront neighborhood, hoping to find her cousin’s kidnapper.

When Grady agrees to defend a new client, Samuel Peterson, who’s been accused of beating to death the wife of a noted professor, the evidence mounts. The professor is missing, as well as his laptop that contains data dangerous to national security.

And Seamus McGinn is back, and rumors of a massive annihilation is about to begin. As they race to assist the FBI, the bonds between Grady and Tori are about to be tested. It becomes clear Grady and Tori are falling fast for each other, but what to do about it is a different story. He’s a divorced dad who wants more time with his kid. She brings danger to his front door.

Grady has questions of his own; Is Vivienne at the center of the mob’s operation? How much will it cost Tori before she learns the truth? All Grady knows is the biggest danger is the one standing right behind you.

 

Excerpt:

“Don’t let the anxiety of freedom consume you.”  Attorney Grady Donahue Fletcher clenched his teeth and rehearsed what he’d say to his client, Victoria Morningstar. He’d won her appeal and drove to pick her up at Gladstone Penitentiary. “At least you won’t be placed in solitary.” That was worse.

 

Six months earlier Grady had phoned a reporter at the Los Angeles Globe. “Drew Barker. Grady Fletcher here.”

 

“Ah, the lawyer. Calling about a tip?”

 

“I am. Here’s something you can investigate. Tori Morningstar, did she murder Irene Brennan?”

 

“I wrote that story many years back,” the journalist had said. “I assume you have new discoveries.”

 

“Fraud, illegal testimony. Do you want the story first?” A second passed. “Otherwise, I’ll call the Orange County Guardian.”

 

“Okay, okay. We want it.”

 

Three days later Grady had a hand in writing the first article in Drew Barker’s column. “The public labeled Tori Morningstar as an undesirable. Not black and poor, but disfavored, accused, incarcerated, and wrongly condemned. Her cellphone has been recovered. Her call to 911 identified her voice and substantiated screams of the victim in the background. Could she have beaten someone while speaking to dispatch at the same time?”

 

The reporter had written the second article. “People who get their ideas about criminal lawyers from TV probably would be disappointed in Grady Fletcher. He lacks flash but stands up straight, his posture neither ramrod nor slouched. He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t wear thousand dollar suits. His voice is soft and low, one of his assets. He speaks truth with a voice inviting confidences.”

 

As nice as that was, Grady’s stomach cramped over pressure and strain from Drew Barker’s final article with the headline, Tori Morningstar, Released Today. Picked up by the online service, Newser, KTLA, and CBS Los Angeles, they planned to broadcast his arrival to escort his client from Gladstone.

 

Tori’s decade-long prison sentence ended today but with a sobering fear over tomorrow.

 

When was a July morning this hot? Grady balanced her release papers on his lap as he rolled up one sleeve then the other while gripping the damp steering wheel. Sweat blossomed on his throbbing forehead, wrapped like a python’s grip. He adjusted the dial for the AC and embraced the challenge of helping another client get back on track. Embrace and conquer. Or at least sound like it.

 

 

Buy Links:

http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Rowland_Kathleen/unholy-alliance.htm

 

Kathy_July

 

Author Biography:

Book Buyers Best finalist Kathleen Rowland is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with a sizzling love story sure to melt their hearts.  Writing a romantic suspense Irish American series for Tirgearr Publishing, Deadly Alliance is followed by Unholy Alliance with a release date of March 29, 2017.  Keep an icy drink handy while reading these hot stories.

 

Kathleen used to write computer programs but now writes novels.   She grew up in Iowa where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake Okoboji.  Now she wears flip-flops and sails with her husband, Gerry, on Newport Harbor but wishes there were lightning bugs in California.

 

Kathleen exists happily with her witty CPA husband, Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California where she adores time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, and neighbors.  While proud of their five children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write.  If you’d enjoy news,  sign up for Kathleen’s newsletter at http://www.kathleenrowland.com/

 

Social Media Links:

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/786656.Kathleen_Rowland

Amazon Author Page http://www.amazon.com/Kathleen-Rowland/e/B007RYMF7S/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1450835163&sr=1-2-ent

Twitter https://twitter.com/rowlandkathleen

Website https://kathleenrowland.wordpress.com/

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

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/romanticsuspense.kathleenrowland/

 

Thank You For Holding by @jkentauthor and Elisa Reed #romance #giveaway #books




 

Thank You for Holding
Elisa Reed & Julia Kent
Publication date: March 21st 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

 

Having it all is a fantasy, right?

 

Carrie Shelton thought her boyfriend was too good to be true. Her best friend’s brother? A guy who loved antiquing? Who cuddled on the couch while watching foodie YouTube clips and talking about artisanal spices? Who helped her accessorize her outfits?

 

Right.

 

Fantasy.

 

So when he ran off with Kevin, the owner of an antique shop, right before his sister’s wedding, Carrie’s life went from fantasy to nightmare.

 

As maid of honor, she can’t back out of the wedding. And her ex is the best man – but now he has his own best man.

 

She needs a date. Stat.

 

Enter Ryan. Sure, he’s a hot male stripper at the O Spa where she works as junior designer, but he’s a few years younger and just, you know — a friend.

 

Perfect. She needs a friend more than she needs a boyfriend.

 

A weekend of playing her boyfriend so she can save face is a lot to ask, but for some reason Carrie doesn’t understand, Ryan’s all in. Enthusiastic, even.

 

Especially when it comes to physical displays of affection.

 

Public kisses turn to private confessions, and pretty soon, Carrie can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

 

Because if Ryan’s just pretending he’s in love with her, then why does the chemistry between them — and between the sheets — feel so real?

 

Carrie can’t settle for almost, though. She’s already done that. She’s not putting her life on hold anymore.

 

Turns out Ryan won’t, either.

 

He’s holding out for more.

 

Thank You For Holding is a STANDALONE in the On Hold series. You do not need to have read book 1 in the series, but after reading about Carrie and Ryan’s friends-to-lovers adventure, you’ll want to.

 

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

 

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

 

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

GIVEAWAY!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Self’s Blossom by David Russell is a Romantic Erotic Tale #romance #books #eroticromance


Selfs Blossom couple

Title: Self’s Blossom

Author: David Russell

Genre: Romance

Publisher: Atla Publishing

 

Book Blurb:

A romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the
quest for the inner truth, empowerment and
sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching for
primeval abandon and reckless adventure.

Intelligent, a university graduate and a successful
careerist, Selene became emotionally scarred by
unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted through
the years by her former college roommate Janice,
Selene gave in to the long-term desire to „get one
back‟ at Janice by having a passionate holiday
encounter.

Immediately drawn to the sea and enthralled
by its brutal yet sensual waves, Selene seduces a
young boy on a deserted beach. Once she comes to
meets the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene
finally begins to claim her sensual destiny.

Through a slow process, accentuated by Selene’s
shyness, introspection and circumspection, she
embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of
leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion
builds until there is a blazing row. A possible
drowning, the final ritual undressing at long last,
leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman
Selene was meant to be.

Book Review:

Self’s Blossom is a short novella in the erotic romance genre, with Selene, a woman in search of her sexual identity, as the vibrant main character. Selene is intellectual, independent, free spirited and totally trapped in the limitations of her peer group and society. Her pragmatic best friend Janice describes Selene as a dreamer, “living in the cuckoo land of her imagination”. Desperately looking to find herself and get a bit of erotic adventure, Selene goes on holiday to South America.

Brought to life by the Sun, sea and holiday atmosphere of her resort, Selene’s first erotic awakening comes about through the ocean – “the spirit of love beckoning her with a pulsing sinewy body.” After this, Selene searches for a lover and has a brief sexual encounter with an eighteen year old local. But it is her through her meeting with the American anthropologist Hudson that Selene’ erotic nature is awakened and she explores the many layers of her being. Hudson is her intellectual rival and mentor, and he introduces Selene to the other side of South America – the primal elemental energy of the carnival, the 10,000 year history of South American civilisation and the breathtaking and often cruel power of its environment and landscape.

With Hudson, Selene’s holiday adventures suddenly become fraught with danger and intrigue – She is threatened with death by hunters when she plays environmentalist with Hudson and his friends, she is bitten by a deadly snake when she goes exploring with him, Hudson has to save her from a bar room brawl with the locals which suddenly explodes due to a sexual indiscretion. The indigenous population have an entirely different culture and life-rule than Selene knows from her predictable friends in London.

Although Hudson is the catalyst for Selena’s awakening, it is fair to say that she challenges him intellectually and opens his world weary eyes for the magic of the moment also. Their mutual search for something beyond the mundane leads them both to the top of a South American pyramid, where Selena visualises herself as a modern God Queen and Hudson as her God King. They have both gone on a dangerous and fascinating journey down through time and braving a foreign culture and environment. It is therefore significant that Selene does not seek full surrender to her lover in the passion of the moment on the moonlit beach – in fact she slaps his face when he attempts to do so – Instead she wants their love to be fully consummated through the pampered and luxurious Western trappings of the hotel Bridal Suite. Selene concludes: “True Seduction was total theatre,” “The true ideal lay in laced artifice” not in “ideals of naturalness.”

Here, in the luxurious trappings of traditional Western romance and eroticism, the adventure ends and the God Queen and God King sublimate their experience like some modern day High Priest and Priestess and the alchemy of their mutual transformation is complete. Knowing that they will be unable to ever rival or surpass this moment of absolute sexual apotheosis, the lovers now part and go their separate ways – Hudson to his job in the US and Selene back to London. But the author David Russell leaves us with a sense that more has been accomplished here than just a nice holiday memory for Selene and her lover. Selene can now return to the humdrum of her everyday existence and the emptiness of her London life with the alchemical blossom inside her – the Blossom of the self which has been totally awakened inside her.

There is the very real sense that Selene will never be the same woman again after this.

Reviewed by Miranda Moondawn, Author of Mooniana and the Secret of the Lost Chronicles of Sophia

Excerpt:  

Here, she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.

At first she lay in the tide’s path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss – then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented, Selene dozed a while.

Buy Links:

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Selfs-Blossom-David-Russell/dp/1540694909

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7844461-self-s-blossom

David Russell-Headshot

Author Biography:

Born in 1940. Resident in the UK. Writer of poetry, literary criticism, speculative fiction and romance. Main poetry collection Prickling Counterpoints (1998); poems published in online International Times. Main speculative works High Wired On (2002); Rock Bottom (2005). Translation of Spanish epic La Araucana, Amazon 2013. Romances: Self’s Blossom; Explorations; Further Explorations; Therapy Rapture; Darlene, An Ecstatic Rendezvous (all pub Extasy (Devine Destinies). Self-published collection of erotic poetry and artwork, Sensual Rhapsody, 2015. Singer-songwriter/guitarist. Main CD albums Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate. Many tracks on You Tube, under ‘Dave Russell’

 

Social Media Links:

Website www.davidrussell-author.blogspot.co.uk

 

A Star to Steer Her By @1BethAnneMiller Book Blitz #giveaway #Romance #NA


A Star to Steer Her By
Beth Anne Miller
Published by: Entangled Embrace
Publication date: March 20th 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance

I’m scarred. Broken. I’ll never be the same.

But I will take this journey.

 

Ever since my last dive ended in bloodshed, I’ve been terrified to go back into the water. But the opportunity to spend a semester at sea is too good to pass up. I need to get my life back.

 

I never expected to love it this much. And I never expected Tristan MacDougall.

 

Rugged, strong, and with demons of his own, Tristan helps me find the courage I thought I had lost and heals me with every stolen moment we share. But the rules of the ship mean we can’t be together.

 

When a dive excursion goes terribly wrong, our only hope for survival is each other.

 

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT:

I was standing alone at the helm, under full sails and a glittering sky, guiding the ship unerringly across the endless black sea with only the stars to guide me, like the sailors of old. It was amazing. This was why I was here, why I’d gone ahead with this semester at sea, even after everything that had happened. Because I loved the sea, and wanted it to be a part of my life.

I returned my gaze upward, focusing on my guide star.

“‘And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’”

The low voice came out of nowhere. I spun to the right, where I could just make out the vague outline of someone leaning against the stanchion that held Speedy the motorboat suspended at the stern.

“Tristan?” As soon as the question left my mouth, I rolled my eyes in the darkness. Of course it was him.

“Aye, it’s me.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I hissed. “And where the hell did you come from?” I’d been at the helm for at least half an hour, and I knew he hadn’t been there the whole time.

There was a flash of white in the darkness as he grinned. “I’ve been here for about five minutes. You were so focused on staring up at the stars that you didn’t see me. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“So instead, you just lurked in the dark until you could scare the hell out of me. Makes sense,” I muttered, trying not to be too thrilled that he’d chosen to hang out up here with me. “What was it that you said, anyway?”

“It’s from a poem. The full verse is:

“‘I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.’”

His lilting accent gave the lines a musical quality, and a shiver ran down my spine. “It’s beautiful,” I said, “and perfectly describes the way I feel. You didn’t write that, did you?” Because it would be supremely unfair for him to be kind, gorgeous, athletic, musically brilliant, and a poet, too.

 

Author Bio:

 

My first book, written in elementary school, was bound in pink fabric and was about—what else?—a girl and her horse. I soon began cheating on horses with the sea, becoming an open water scuba diver at age 14. That love of the sea led me to a college semester aboard a schooner. I returned with fond memories of the exhilaration of being on a ship under full sail, less fond memories of hurling over the leeward rail on a daily basis, and a sailing bug I couldn’t quite shake.

 

In addition to horses and the sea, I have a fascination for all things Scottish (including, but not limited to, men in kilts), which I explored with my first novel, INTO THE SCOTTISH MIST (The Wild Rose Press, 2011), and carried into my new novel, A STAR TO STEER HER BY (Entangled Embrace, 2017). A native New Yorker, I work in the publishing industry and am always looking ahead to my next voyage, whether a short one on a dive boat or whale watch, or, with luck, a longer one on a tall ship. You can find me on the web at http://www.bethannemiller.com

 

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

GIVEAWAY!

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Meet Gabriel Bocapa and His Humorous Eating Ice Cream in Armageddon #books #FridayReads


Love Dark Comedic Fiction? We do, too, and when we first met Gabriel Bocapa, we knew we were in for a treat. His Eating Ice Cream in Armageddon series is hilarious and we highly recommend it (book one is only $.97). Anyway, Mrs. N sat down with Gabriel for an interview and discovered interesting tidbits about him. So, please give Gabriel a warm POTL Blog welcome. Take it away, Gabriel:

 

Just as your books inspire authors, what authors have inspired you?

Franza Kafka, Edgar Allan Poe.

If you could cast your characters in the Hollywood adaptation of your book, who would play your characters?

Jake Gyllenhal as Michael and Priyanka Chopra as Halima

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

 

I think the name for the titles of the books are very important. I chose the name Eating Ice Cream in Armageddon as a commentary on the idea that we live in a global world: We can see wars going on, destruction and suffering at the touch of a fingertip (internet, television) yet at the same we can be sitting in a mall eating ice cream. There is more to the title for this book than this, and if you read it and read carefully you might get more of the picture.

What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?

It’d either have to be Conspiracy Theories Unveiled or Eating Ice Cream in Armageddon.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

In Hollywood making Eating Ice Cream in Armageddon into a movie.

Have you always liked to write?

Yes.

What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

Don’t be afraid to write what you want. If someone doesn’t like your writing, who cares. They might just not get it.

If you didn’t like writing books, what would you do for a living?

I would be a scientist.

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

I would say any sex scene would be difficult for me to write. Since I’ve never really done it myself.

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

I’ve written several books including “The Mansion” which is a collection of dark dystopian stories, and Love and Paranoia which is about a man with schizophrenia who goes on a journey to find love.

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

I’m currently working on a book about a schizophrenic superhero.

What is the biggest fib you’ve ever told?

Telling my mom I was sick but in reality I wanted to play Mega Man X on Super Nintendo.

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

No drugs. Just Drinking Milk Teas and Eating Ice Cream.

What secret talents do you have?

Breakdancing.

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

Europe.

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

I was a shy child, yet considered very bright. I taught myself to read at the age of 4. I liked to play puzzles while others were watching t.v.  On the other hand, I was never good with my hands. I was never good at sports, tools, or crafts. My skills were always more on an abstract plane.

Eating Ice Cream

         

Title Eating Ice Cream in Armageddon: with Letters from the Fourth Reich

Author  Gabriel Bacopa

Genre  Dark Comedy, Comedic Fiction, Short Stories

 

Book Blurb

Have a laugh and cry with these three 21st century stories:

A Day with the Professor: Yale’s most prestigious and brilliant philosophy professor must take a day off work, and an eccentric yet possibly insanely brilliant man takes his place.

Eating Ice cream in Armageddon: A tale of sadness, adventure, and despair, when a man and a teenage girl he is fond of must survive World War 3 Together.

“Quite possibly the only teenage romance set during World War 3”

Letters from the Fourth Reich: A man sends letters to his love in Germany while trying to survive the tyrannical rule of the new Dictator-President Pump.

Excerpt

 

Buy Links

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Eating-Ice-Cream-Armageddon-Letters-ebook/dp/B01MYUYEBM

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33225045-eating-ice-cream-in-armageddon

 

Author Biography

Gabriel Bacopa grew up in Southern California to a Palestinian Father and Israeli mother. He is the author of The Mansion and Love and Paranoia.

 

Social Media Links

Website/Blog: https://gabrielbacopa.wordpress.com/

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

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Gabriel-Bacopa/e/B01M1N7L45

Sebastian’s Castle by Lisa DeVore @mrsldevore Blends #Romance and #Fantasy! #EntertoWin #TWRP


SebastiansCastle_w11117_med

 

Title: Sebastian’s Castle

 

Author: Lisa DeVore

 

Genre: Romance/Fantasy

 

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

 

Book Blurb:

Being married to a cop is hard, being the widow of one is harder. After Brynn Austin’s husband, Nate, was murdered in an undercover operation, there wasn’t enough evidence to convict the gang leader who killed him. Brynn refuses to let him kill their dream to renovate an old Connecticut castle. But her plan is hampered by a ghost who’s not ready to give up his home. Contractor Jaxson Maddox signs on to renovate the old castle that’s sat empty for years. He didn’t believe the rumors about the place being haunted. But that was before he met the resident ghost. What Jax didn’t sign on for was trouble in the form of falling for the beautiful widow, dealing with a pesky ghost, and risking his life when a threat from Brynn’s past surfaces. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, even if it means becoming a ghost himself.

 

Excerpt:

Light shone in through the windows,

but the space wasn’t any less creepy. Old cobwebs hung

from the rafters, and dust particles danced in the

sunlight. She hoped there wasn’t a family of raccoons,

or worse, living here. Brynn pushed those thoughts

from her mind and kneeled in front of the trunk with the

screwdriver. She’d never tried to pick a lock before, but

there was a first time for everything.

 

“If you’re set on nosing around, I would rather you

used the key. It’s under that pile of books.”

 

Brynn jumped to her feet and swung around to face

the voice. She gripped tightly to her only weapon, the

screwdriver.

 

There he stood, the same man she saw the other

day. “Who are you?” She backed toward the wall,

holding the screwdriver in front of her. “You’re

trespassing.”

 

“No, my dear, you’re trespassing. This is my

castle. I should be asking you the questions.”

 

Brynn’s eyes bugged out as she really took a look

at him. His image was fading in and out. “No,” she said

aloud, “it can’t be.”

 

“My dear, you don’t look well.”

 

“You’re a…” She patted her face.

 

“A what? I’m a what?” His face faded and

returned.

 

“You’re a ghost!”

 

 

Contest:

Who feels like a #CONTEST?? I’m giving away one digital copy of Sebastian’s Castle and a $10 gift card to #Amazon!! All you have to do is like this post on Facebook:

 

https://www.facebook.com/lisadevoreAuthor/photos/a.417788101701179.1073741828.415332531946736/1117102265103089/?type=3

 

Contest ends Saturday, March 18th! Good luck! And don’t forget to share on Facebook!

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Sebastians-Castle-Lisa-DeVore-ebook/dp/B01MY89BWC/ref=sr_1_4_twi_kin_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1489508587&sr=8-4&keywords=lisa+devore

 

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Author Biography:

Lisa DeVore is a romantic suspense author for The Wild Rose Press. Her active imagination started at an early age in her NE Ohio hometown, complete with its own castle. She’s an avid reader, loves the beach, dolphins, and sunshine! Yes, she’s a misplaced Floridian. Lisa stays busy utilizing her accounting degree, spending time with her husband of 20-plus years, their two sons and daughter, 2 toy fox terriers, and one mini-pin. And she enjoys spending time in the worlds she creates. Lisa made the Amazon best-seller list for her debut novel “Beautiful Music”, and is pleased to announce the worldwide release of her fourth book, “Sebastian’s Castle”.

 

Social Media Links:

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

Twitter https://twitter.com/mrsldevore

 

Sacrificial Lam by Gary Guinn @gmguinn is a Gripping #Thriller! #entertowin #TWRP


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Title: Sacrificial Lam

 

Author: Gary Guinn

 

Genre: Mainstream Mystery/Thriller

 

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

 

 

Book Blurb:

When English professor Lam Corso receives a death threat at work, he laughs it off.  A liberal activist at a small Southern conservative college, he’s used to stirring up controversy on campus.  It’s just part of the give and take of life.  Even when violently attacked, Lam is convinced it must be a mistake.  He can’t imagine anyone who would want to kill him for his beliefs.

 

When his home is broken into and his wife’s business vandalized, Lam is forced to face the truth. His wife—a passionate anti-gun crusader—is outraged when Lam brings a gun into the house for protection. The police can’t find a single lead. Left to their own devices, Lam and Susan are forced to examine their marriage, faith, and values in the face of a carefully targeted attack from an assailant spurred into action by his own set of beliefs.

 

What will it cost to survive?

 

Excerpt:

Lying at an odd angle to the road, he opened his eyes and gasped for breath. The sky was clear, the air crisp, the grass damp. His bike lay a few feet to the right of his outstretched hand, the handlebar slightly askew.

 

When he picked himself up off the ground, his left knee was tender where it had struck the handlebar as he went over, and his shoulder hurt where the car mirror hit him. But otherwise he had no apparent injuries. He’d be sore the next day from landing and rolling, but a rush of relief rolled over him. The damn kid could have killed him driving like that. He picked up his bike and examined it. The only real damage was a dislodged rear brake cable. He was damn lucky. It could have been much worse.

 

As he straddled his front tire and struggled to straighten the handlebar, the envelope jutted from the pocket of his jacket. The hair stood on his neck, and he turned and searched the empty street in the direction the car had gone. Nothing. It was a stupid idea. It was just a dumb high school kid, who probably wet his pants when he ran Lam off the road. It had to be a high school kid. But the words of the note came to him—THE JUDGMENT IS DEATH.

 

 

Two Giveaways to Win a Signed Copy:

Rafflecopter  http://gvwy.io/46kqj5b

Goodreads Worldwide https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/225969-sacrificial-lam

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Sacrificial-Lam-Gary-Guinn-ebook/dp/B01MT73VUJ/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sacrificial-Lam-Gary-Guinn/dp/1509213058/ref

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sacrificial-lam-gary-guinn/1125460487?ean=2940157292218

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ww/en/ebook/sacrificial-lam

TWRP: http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/search?controller=search&orderby=position&orderway=desc&search_query=Sacrificial+Lam&submit_search=

 

 Gary Guinn

 

Author Biography:

Gary Guinn’s great, great grandfather moved his family to northern Arkansas from Kentucky after the Civil War. They have lived there ever since. Guinn lives in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, with his wife, Mary Ann, and their lab mix, Seamus, and their Corgi mix, Peanut. He is retired from teaching writing and literature at John Brown University. His first novel, A Late Flooding Thaw, was published by Moon Lake Publishing in 2005. His second novel, Sacrificial Lam, was published by The Wild Rose Press on March 3, 2017. His poetry and fiction have appeared in a variety of magazines, a few of which are The Midwest Poetry Review, Carve, in which his story was a finalist for the Raymond Carver Prize, The Bryant Literary Review, Ghoti, and Elder Mountain: a Journal of Ozark Studies. His short fiction has appeared in several anthologies, the most recent being Yonder Mountain, from the University of Arkansas Press. His favourite pastimes are reading, writing, traveling, and brewing beer (and of course, drinking it).

 

Social Media Links:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/gmguinn

Facebook: Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/garyguinnwriter/

Facebook Personal Page: https://www.facebook.com/

Facebook Book Page: https://www.facebook.com/A-Late-Flooding-Thaw-1792618954333659/

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/585203.Gary_Guinn

 

 

If Wishes Were Earls by @Luanna_Stewart #historicalromance #romance #giveaway


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Title: If Wishes Were Earls

 

Author: Luanna Stewart

 

Genre: Historical Romance – Victorian

 

 

Blurb:

 

When a mysterious note directs Miss Miranda Large to a tiny village in Cornwall to find her heart’s desire, she has no choice but to go. An enchanted keepsake heightens her curiosity. A snowstorm forces her to accept the hospitality of a sullen, albeit sexy and handsome, earl and Miranda’s wish doesn’t seem so out of reach.

 

 

Edward Penhallion, the 12th Earl of Claverlock, is not in the mood to start his search for a new wife. He wants to be left alone with his books and his dreams of revenge. But the arrival of a headstrong, sharp-tongued spinster forces him to play the charming host. Not a difficult task, given her intelligence and beauty. Suddenly, he’s not terribly eager for her to leave.

 

 

But as the snow falls and the winds blow, Edward discovers there’s more to Miranda than a lively wit and a lovely face. And Miranda wonders if the trappings of wealth are enough for true happiness.

 

 

 

Excerpt:

He chuckled. The low, enticing sound warmed her from the tips of her ears to the soles of her feet, and made her quite forget her urgent need. “I won’t detain you any longer. It is quite safe for you to turn around. I’m respectably clothed.”

 

She lowered her hand and looked over her shoulder. She’d not noticed much about his face the first time she’d seen him, being distracted by other parts of his anatomy. Her cheeks heated. Oh, heavens, the other parts were all she’d looked at. Not at all similar to those parts on statues, or in paintings. This man’s parts were—impressive. More than her cheeks heated. Why had no one told her a man’s chest, when unclothed, was so thrillingly fascinating?

 

Now, with the distracting portions of his person covered, she could see he was incredibly attractive. Several inches taller than her, which was unusual given her height, with auburn hair a bit longer than current fashion, and brown eyes holding a hint of humor. She might escape unscathed. The bristles on his cheeks and chin matched the hair visible on his chest, for he had not buttoned the neck of his shirt.  He had tucked in the tails, however, and was possessed of muscular thighs.

 

When her gaze travelled up to meet his, a smile lingered in his eyes. “Have you seen enough?”

 

She opened her mouth to refute his implication, but in good conscience could not. She’d been ogling the poor man. Of course she had. What living, breathing woman wouldn’t ogle such a fine specimen?

 

 

 

Giveaway:

Do you believe in wishes? Have you made a wish that has come true? One commenter will receive a hand-knitted (by me) washcloth and a bar of handcrafted soap. (USA and Canada only. International winner will receive a $5 US gift card.)

 

 

 

Buy Links:

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N0QJSHA/

 

Nook: http://bit.ly/2ifWvXO
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/if-wishes-were-earls-2

 

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/if-wishes-were-earls/id1184695145?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

 

All other retailers: https://www.draft2digital.com/book/209375

 

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Luanna’s Bio:

 

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother’s stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after.

 

 

Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna now lives in Maine with her dear husband, two college boys, and two cats. When she’s not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.

 

 

Writing under the pen name Grace Hood, she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press.

 

Social Media Links:

Website:  http://www.luannastewart.com/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/Luanna_Stewart

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/Luanna.Stewart.nau

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

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14104212.Luanna_Stewart

Amazon Author Page:  amazon.com/author/luanna_stewart