New Release: Cinderella and Prince Dom by Sydney St. Claire

modified cover cinderellaBlurb
Jaimie Newberry is jobless, her rent is due, and her cat just died. On top of that, she was accused of embezzling before she was fired. When her friend invites her for a weekend of kinky fairytale role playing, she agrees to go as Cinderella. What has she got to lose when sex with a handsome prince is involved?

CEO Bryce Langston needs to know if Jamie is innocent of embezzlement or just very clever. He arranges for her to be his weekend sub but soon realizes the pretty scullery maid is naïve to the BDSM lifestyle. As her prince and her Dom, he intends to not only learn the truth but to make sure she has a fantasy come true.

Excerpt
Bryce spotted his Cinderella entering the parlor below. The ruffles of her skirt swirled playfully around slender thighs, and the low cut of her simple top revealed a nice swell of breasts. Deep inside, anticipation hummed, and not just for learning the truth. Annie had been gone five years now, and while he hadn’t been celibate during those long years, he hadn’t participated in the games he hosted either. This would be his first.

And only because he needed to know the truth.
Jaimie had uncovered an embezzling ring in one of his accounting firms. Her boss implicated her, her files backed the man up, but as he’d found out, the man himself had proved to be a liar, and the leader in the group of employees caught.

Lucy, his personal assistant, swore Jaimie was innocent, that she was the one who’d discovered the theft, then been fired because of it. The fact Jaimie had blown the whistle lent her story credence, as did the files she gave Lucy to give to him, all dated before she’d been fired. He’d hired auditors, and they thought she was innocent. But he wouldn’t know until he spoke to her. A study of her employment files indicated the woman was smart. She could easily have done what she did to make herself look innocent and then gotten out before being caught.

“Does it matter if she is as guilty as the others?”

Bryce nodded. “Yes. If she was part of it, I’ll press charges. No one steals from me.” He’d already gotten confessions out of the rest of his employees and fired those who were supposed to oversee that department. Fools were more concerned with their ladder climbing and brown-nosing instead of doing their job.

Determining Jaimie’s level of involvement was unfinished business. Was his Cinderella truly innocent, or had she been framed? He couldn’t find any money trails leading to her bank accounts, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have money squirreled away elsewhere, under another name. No, he needed to know for sure.

Glorie laughed low in her throat. “My, your little playmate looks ready to bolt, and it’s not even midnight.”

Bryce narrowed his eyes. Glorie was right. Jaimie was staring at some of the costumes with mouth agape. He couldn’t see her eyes but imagined they were wide with shock. Even from where he stood, he could see her face was flushed with embarrassment. She took a big gulp of her champagne then grabbed Lucy by the arm. Though he couldn’t hear the conversation, it was clear his sub was having serious doubts.

Rocking back on his heels, he grinned. From the questionnaire, he knew Jaimie was new to this world, and he was looking looked forward to introducing her to some light BDSM.

 

Buy links
Wild Rose Press
KINDLE NOOK KOBO IBOOKS

BIO
Sydney St. Claire is the pseudonym of Susan Edwards, author of 14 Historical Native American/Western/Paranormal romances and the author of the popular “White” Series. During her career, she has been nominated for the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Western Historical and Reviewer’s Choice Best Book Award.
Sydney loves writing and sharing stories of love, happiness and dreams come true with her readers. She credits her mother for her writing as she was encouraged to read as a child and preferred happy endings which meant romances were her favorite genre. When the writing bug bit, she followed the sensible advice to “write what you know” and has been writing and publishing her stories since!

Sydney takes her readers into the world of erotica romance where her characters come together in explosive passion as they solve life’s problems and find true love along with the best sex our hero and heroine have ever experienced.

Sydney resides in California. Her office is quite crowded with two small dogs at her feet, another huge girl in her recliner and five cats to keep her company while she writes. Three cats always insist on beds on her desk, barely leaving enough room for her monitor and keyboard. Life gets fun when all five insist on supervising…

When not writing, she enjoys crafts of all sorts including quilting, sewing, cross-stitch and knitting. Knitting and crochet are her current passions. She and her husband of 30 plus years are avid gardeners. He takes care of the veggies, and Susan is in charge of the ‘pretties’. Her medicine wheel garden is in a contact state of war: flowers vs. weeds. Sadly, right now the weeds are wining…

Camping, fishing, biking and hiking (when not hot) are other outdoor pursuits she and her husband enjoy. She is of course, an avid reader and hates cooking and housework. While writing, she listens to a wide variety of music, including Neil Diamond, Celtic, Native American, New Age, Classical, and mood music (bagpipes and howling wolves drive my family nuts). Her current favorites are Blackmore’s Night and David Lanz.

Author Links
Trailer: http://youtu.be/v3w5k5XvkLw
Email: Sydney@sydneystclaire.com
Website: http://sydneystclaire.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sydneystclaire
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sydneystclaire
Blog: http://sydneystclaire.wordpress.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/sydneystclaire
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/sydneystclaire/
Wild Rose Press: http://wilderroses.com

 

Meg’s Secret by Kelly Abell

Saving Shenanigans Meg medMeg O’Banyon makes a mistake during her senior year in high school. She gets mixed up with football star Rowdy Rod Owens, and after one night of foolish passion, Rod, on his way to serve Uncle Sam, leaves her with a gift…one she knows her father will never approve of. Fearing his drunken rage, Meg flees on a Greyhound Bus with only twenty dollars in her pocket and a baby in her belly. Meg has struggled for ten years to keep food on the table for her and her daughter, Emma, and up until now has done okay. A visit to the doctor is about to change all that.

When she gets the news of her father’s death, Meg uses it as an opportunity to secure a future for Emma in case things don’t turn out as she hopes. As if dealing with her current burden isn’t enough, the sudden return of Rod Owens from Afghanistan sends Meg into a panic. She’s never told him about Emma.

Rod Owens is a jock with a passion for his country. Wanting to serve from the time he could carry a toy rifle, he dreams of an Army career. After being injured and released from the only career he’s ever known, Rod returns home to more than one surprise. The woman who’s haunted his dreams for years suddenly confronts him with two heart wrenching secrets. Rod must now determine if he can overcome the hurt and betrayal and fight for what he loves most.

Book two of the Saving Shenanigans series allows you to witness the strength and determination of the second O’Banyon sister, Meg, as she comes to terms with the secrets of her past, battles to survive a difficult present, and struggles to secure a hopeful future. Meg’s story is also an empowering one as she gains control of the “silent killer” Ovarian Cancer. All she needs now is the support of her family and the love of a good man…her man.

Part of the proceeds of this book will be donated to the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition to raise awareness of this Silent Killer and how important early testing is. Visit this site for more information on Ovarian Cancer http://www.ovarian.org/

Excerpt

Chapter One

Meg rocked on the front porch swing late in the evening, the cool end of summer air swirling around her. She shivered, but not because of the breeze.

Mara, her sister, stepped outside carrying two wine glasses.

“Emma’s asleep, finally.” She handed Meg a glass of Merlot.
“Thanks. I’m bushed.”

“It’s been a long day. How you holding up?”

She nodded. “The pain’s tolerable.” Since contracting ovarian cancer, Meg struggled with daily abdominal pain. For a long while she didn’t even know what was wrong, attributing it to indigestion, or maybe even her gall bladder.

One of the reasons why this damn disease is called the silent killer.

She sighed. Now was not the time to dwell on her own problems. She had enough of that facing her in the immediate future. Her family needed her full attention right now. “I’m worried about Mabe,” she said, suddenly changing the subject.

Mara smiled. “Our sister’s tough. It’ll take more than a concussion to keep her down. Aaron took care of Toreni, so that’s done. Now we can keep Shenanigans, such that it is.”

“True. Boy, Aaron sure turned out to be a true blessing. I’m glad that mobster’s paid off, but Mabe won’t be happy once she finds out what Aaron’s done.”

Mara raised her wine glass in a mock toast. “From the lip lock I saw between them tonight? I think she’ll be okay.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s awesome. She deserves some happiness.”

“I tried not to eavesdrop, but I was standing outside the door. I think I heard him ask her to marry him,” Mara remarked, raising her goblet again.

Meg clinked her glass to her sister’s, grinning. “Nuh uh…really? I’m so happy for her. I guess I was wrong about him.”

“Ya think?”

Meg nodded and glanced out into the night. She sensed her sister’s gaze. “What are you staring at?”

“You’ve not been yourself all day. What’s up?”
She frowned, pinching her nose with her fingers. What’s up, she asks? What’s up is I’m a liar. How do I tell my daughter Rod is her father? How do I tell him he has a daughter?

What a mess.

“Meg?”

She sighed. “I saw Rod a few days ago.”

“What?” Mara twisted in her chair to face her sister. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Uh, because we’ve been a little pre-occupied.”
Mara shoved her over and squeezed in next to her on the swing. “Okay, spill it.”

Meg’s eyes moistened. She swiped fiercely at her cheeks. There’d been too many tears lately. She explained how she’d seen Rod at Shenanigans when she’d stopped there with Emma.

“Oh, wow. I bet you nearly crapped your pants.”

She faced her sister. “Ya think?” She echoed Mara’s earlier statement, then laughed bitterly.

“What’s he doing back?”

“War injury. Wounded leg.” Meg shifted on the swing. “I felt so bad for him. The Army was all he ever dreamed of. I guess that’s over now.”

“Did he say what happened?”

She nodded. “He said he took some shrapnel from a car bomb. I didn’t know what to say, Mara. I was completely dumbfounded.”

“I’m sure. Did he see Emma in the car?” Mara wrapped an arm around her sister.

Emotion overwhelmed her again. “Of course,” she choked out, dragging a tissue from her skirt pocket. “What am I going to do? I know I was wrong not to tell him about Emma, but I thought it wouldn’t matter. I never expected to see him again.”

Mara sighed and sipped her wine, pushing the swing with her foot. Meg rested her head on her sister’s shoulder.

“Do you think he suspected?”

She rolled her head side to side. “Nah…I doubt it. We were only with him a few minutes. He looked into the car, spoke to her. I introduced him as my friend, Mr. Owens.”

Mara rested her head on the back of the swing, gazed up at the ceiling. “You’re going to have to tell him.”

Meg cried into her tissue. “I know.”

“Tell who what?” The man’s voice came out of the dark.

Meg jerked so suddenly her head collided with her sister’s chin.

“Ow,” Mara exclaimed, rubbing her injured jaw. She twisted to see Rod standing on the sidewalk.

“Is this a bad time? Not too late is it?”

“You just scared the shit out of Meg,” Mara grumbled.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was so surprised to see you in town the other day, Meg. I’ve been meaning to stop by before now, but I figured y’all might be a little busy.” He glanced at his watch. “I was out walking and heard you ladies talking so I thought I’d drop by. I guess I really should’ve considered the time.”

“Nonsense,” Mara told him. “Come on up.”

He hobbled over, parking his hip on the edge of the porch.

Meg gripped her sister’s hand. Her heart warmed at the reassuring squeeze she received in return. How in the hell did I ever get myself into this mess? Who’d have believed he would have come home to Monticello? What are the odds?
She glanced at her sister, who got the signal.

“I’m going to go put some ice on my jaw. You kids have fun catching up.”

“Good to see you again, Mara,” he said. “Hope to see you around town.”

She nodded and gave him a finger wave before going inside. The screen door slapped shut behind her.

Meg couldn’t remember feeling more awkward. With her sister gone, she was left on her own to face this man she’d once loved. A man she’d have given her heart and soul to. A man she had a daughter with. Oh, God. She thought back to their high school prom night and smiled.

“You just drifted back to our high school days, didn’t you? I saw it in your eyes.”

She glanced at the handsome man in front of her. He wore jeans and an avocado green T-shirt with the words Go Army in white letters. His blond hair was longer than she remembered. He’d always worn a buzz cut for football season, but even after that, he’d never let it curl over his collar. She liked it. His eyes were the kind of blue that changed hue depending on what he wore. Tonight they were a deep blue-green, like the ocean.

“I must have been the only girl home by midnight on prom night,” she commented, still smiling.

Rod whistled. “Yeah, boy. Your father put the fear of God in me. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.”

She glanced away from his handsome face out into the yard. “Thanks.”

“Can you come down here, sit by me?”

She swiveled her head back to face him, her heart racing. Getting close to a man she’d once loved so openly was not a good idea—especially when she had news that would rock his world.

He patted the thigh of his right leg. “I’m still having a hard time negotiating steps.”

Guilt swept through her. Jeez, how selfish can I be? This wonderful man was injured doing God knows what in Afghanistan. The least I can do is sit with him for a minute.
She joined him on the edge of the porch. “Does your leg hurt much?”

“Only when I move,” he quipped, the edges of his mouth curving into the sexy half-smile she remembered so well.
“I’m so sorry you were hurt. You think you’ll make a full recovery?”

He sighed, tapping his cane on the ground. “This is as good as it gets, I’m afraid. I may get a little more mobility back if I keep exercising, but I’m stuck with my metal buddy here.
Her glance swept from his cane to his strong rugged face.

“That sucks.”

He reached for her hand. It was like grasping a bear paw, large and warm. “Where did you disappear to, Meg?” He leaned the cane against the wooden decking to grab her other hand, twisting to face her. “Your father came storming into my house just before I left for boot camp, demanding to know where you were. I was as shocked as anyone to learn you’d run away. I had to leave worried sick something had happened to you.”

She sucked in a breath. He really cared about me. The shock of that revelation set her back. She knew how she felt about him, but never realized the depth of his feelings for her. She was pregnant, so she ran. She was afraid of her father’s reaction, sure, but she also loved Rod enough not to ruin his future. Was that fair? Now she didn’t think so, but at the time she was a scared young girl.

He surprised her when he touched her face. “After Mom wrote and told me Mabe knew you were safe, I stopped worrying as much, but Meg…” He slipped his hand behind her neck, edging her closer.

Her pulse raced, her palms beaded with sweat. Oh God. I should stop this.

“I can’t tell you how glad I was when you said you weren’t married that day I saw you at Shenanigans. You had a daughter, so I automatically thought…”

Oh shit…Don’t go there…please.

“You were all I thought about.”
Meg blinked. The conversation took a completely different direction than she was expecting. She held her breath, listening to this man whom she’d once loved so passionately.

“It was your face I dreamed of at night. You were the reason I fought so hard to live after the bombing. I told myself if I could get back to the states, I’d do whatever it took to find you. And here you are.”

She exhaled, her heart warming to his words, but her brain set off wild warning bells in her head. In the past she’d wanted to hear those words, to know how he’d felt about her. But now…things were so different.

Rod held her gaze, his soft blue eyes staring straight into her soul. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft gentle kiss.

IMG_2193_pp8x10Kelly is an international bestselling author with novels with two different publishers. She writes romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance. Her aim is to write about gripping characters in tense situations that keep a reader turning the pages. She also spends a great deal of time helping other writers through her Writing Tips on her website and as a member of the Florida Writer’s Association.
When not writing, Kelly enjoys spending time with her husband of 30 years and her two college age children, when they find the time. She lives in Florida and enjoys all that living in the sunshine state brings, boating, fishing, beaches, theme parks, and more. Her favorite pastime is reading (what a surprise!) She likes Thrillers, Romantic Suspense, and Romantic Comedy.

Stop by and visit her website for current events
www.kellyabellbooks.com
And connect with Kelly on Facebook and Twitter
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kelly-Abell/83527376788?ref=hl
Twitter: @kellyabellbooks

Mining Family Memories: Inspiration for Stories from Karysa Faire

DSCN3032I am my family’s storyteller. I am a romance writer. I’m also apparently slow on the uptake—it was only a few months ago I realized I should write fiction using my family history as source material. Looking back on my life I wonder why I didn’t think of this before. Write what you know. Right?

We all have those stories our favorite aunt told us, stories of our mom (or dad) being a rascal, or our grandma being adorable. Or that same grandma being a force to be reckoned with. I used to beg my dad to repeat stories of his childhood, like the one when he randomly threw a water balloon out the 10th story window of his Manhattan home… and Grandma walked in the front door sopping wet, so furious he saw steam coming off her. There was the time Mom believed she’d captured a magical tadpole that turned into an even more magical bullfrog in the space of three days. Imagine that little girl’s delight! And imagine Aunt Sandy giggling in the background as she swapped out the amphibians in the dead of night to make this transformation possible…

I’m sure I heard these tales more times than I can remember, but each retelling was a new experience for me. I’d feel giddy butterflies of anticipation—the pure joy of knowing my dad, my grandma, my mom, as characters in a story and not just as adults in my life. Their younger selves became my friends, just as other characters in other stories were my friends: Laura Ingles, The Murray Family, and Trixie Belden. Some were fictional, some not, but all were my childhood companions.

Ednamae & Fred Faircloth

Ednamae and Fred Faircloth

As I transitioned to Teenager, I still sought out these stories. Grandma Ednamae once shared with me the story of how she and her friends had their love fortune read at the county fair when they were teenagers. She remembered it because three of them did end up marrying the man the teller described. I don’t know why she told me the story when she did, but I soaked it up, relishing my grandparents young and in love.

Since high school I’ve been obsessed with researching my family history, piecing together who married whom, where they lived, how they made their living. I’m sure this is an extension of wanting to hear more stories of my family. I’ve discovered grandparents who were illiterate, an uncle who made cigars, another uncle who fought in the Revolutionary War. Great-great-great-great grandma died in childbirth (I think) and twins DO run in my family.

Maggie Booth Woodward

Maggie Booth Woodward

Maybe it’s my imagination (I’ve been accused of having an over-active one), maybe it’s because my ancestors are literally in me (genetics is a magic of its own), but with each piece of family history I find, I hear that unique story with it. I feel the pain of losing a mother and the pride of claiming an ancestor as a revolutionary. I stand next to my Grandma Mag outside that house in Danville in the 1800s. With their stories, my ancestors become characters. They become friends. They become part of my heart and I feel, in a very real sense, they are living on through me.

However, it’s not only the long-ago past that’s speaking to me. Remember Grandma Ednamae’s fortuneteller story? Her kernel of history has been growing in my mind and now it’s a five book series that I’m working on. As I write the synopsis, I hear the story being told to me. I feel those giddy butterflies of anticipation, the ones I felt when I listened to Dad’s stories as a child. It’s the joy of knowing my story and becoming friends with my characters—the same joy I feel as I discover my family’s history.

~~~~

Karysa Faire is a writer of the romantic, the unseen, the other worldly and the (sometimes) horrific. Residing in Northern California with her daughter, dog, cat, and snake, she reads when she can and cleans house when she has to. She’s currently working on Hannah’s Heart, the first in a series of five friends who find love foretold.

Character Interview: Alejandro Espinosa Santoyo Torres

I was tagged by authors Jess Schira and Cindy Amrhein to play a round robin of character interviews with other authors. We were given seven questions. Here’s my hero from Obsession.

Handsome man1) What is the name of your character? Is he/she fictional or a historic person?
Alejandro Espinosa Santoyo Torres, from the novel OBSESSION, is a fictional character.

2) When and where is the story set?
Present day, Chihuahua, Mexico

3) What should we know about him/her?
He’s in the middle of a major ATFE undercover operation. He has infiltrated one of the largest drug cartels in Chihuahua, Mexico and has worked my way up to be a lieutenant for the Mendez Cartel boss.

4) What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?
That crazy redhead, Angie Edmonds is messing his life up! She dropped into his life. Her son was kidnapped by a cult leader who thinks the kid is the Chosen One. The US State Department said it was a private kidnapping, so they wouldn’t get involved. Mexican authorities were less than helpful. Angie did the only thing she could. She called in some favors and turned to the one person in Mexico with arms longer that those of the law: the head of the Mendez Crime Cartel.

5.) What is the personal goal of the character?
His goal is to take down a cartel without getting killed–and without falling for the red-headed hot mama.

6) Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it?
Obsession has its own webpage http://sharonbuchbinder.com/blog/the-obsession-with-obsession/

7) When can we expect the book to be published?
It’s out and available everywhere http://sharonbuchbinder.com/blog/the-obsession-with-obsession/

I now tag Sharon Saracino to play it forward!

Cover Reveal: Loving Jack by Cat Miller

Loving Jack_final_ebooksmLoving Jack
By Cat Miller
Coming August 2014

Happily ever after shouldn’t hurt this bad . . .
Grace is a studious business major who always colors inside the lines. Jack is a fun loving, bi-sexual art major who challenges her orderly existence. Grace loses her heart when a night out with friends leads to a wild encounter with Jack. Only time will tell if her heart can survive the rigors of loving a man who may need more than Grace can provide.

Interview with Marcy Waldenville, Author of The Tears of the Damned

Marcy HeadshotI am delighted to have my friend, Marcy Waldenville, with me today to chat with us about… Tears of the Damned

Marcy Waldenville knew she wanted to write at an early age. A firm believer in anything-is-possible, she is happy to be following that dream. Born and raised in a small town in Western Pennsylvania. She lives in Southern Butler County, PA with her husband, Ken.

Marcy, what made you decide to be an author?

I started to write what they now call fan-fiction when I was 10. I wrote little stories about Star Trek, in long hand, in a notebook that I carried with me everywhere. I got a typewriter for my 16th birthday and I just started to teach myself to tell stories. It snowballed from there.

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?

The best part is the people I’ve met. Most of my friends are people I’ve met through writing. It has opened up a world of generous, thoughtful people to me. 

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing your special blend of sci-fi, romance, and supernatural stories?

Well, my life is pretty paranormal. I’m a psychic and a medium. It has had an influence on how I do everything. Writing is no exception. I think most of my ideas are certainly touched by that. I tend to see the paranormal as normal, and so do my character, I once had a reviewer say that my character, who was a psychic was “grounded in reality”. She was… mine. In Tears of the Damned. I see all the character as workers for world karma.   

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

Constantly! I have always maintained all stories exist already in some plane… it’s the writer’s job to bring it to this plane. I also believe that the characters choose the story teller. If you’ve been chosen it is your divine responsibility to tell that story.

You’ve written four novels, four novelettes and are working on the second installment of my Mystic Lake Series, The Walk-In. What’s your favorite time management tip?

I try to make progress on some part of writing every day. I write, edit, format, publish, plot… something every day. Even if I can do only an hour it’s something. You can accomplish a lot in a little time if you’re really motivated.

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

I think I’m a plantser. I start out with a pretty general outline, mostly a paragraph or two about each chapter. I shift that around so that the structure of the story is what I want and then I pants it from there. It a sort of structured organic. 

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?

Work! I have seen people with great ideas and no drive to see it told. What makes a writer a writer… is doing the work of writing.

What is the theme song for this book? What music did you go back to over and over as you wrote it?

I always do a playlist. And they are always pretty eclectic everything from Patsy Cline to Imagine Dragons. With Tears of the Damned I used a lot on of Nickleback and some classic Bob Seger.

Tell me more about Tears of the Damned. Tears cover 8-5-13

Alexia Thorn is an accomplished treasure hunter. Her work for The Center for Restoration of Stolen Antiquities has recovered everything from rare paintings to centuries old relics.

But now, Lexy is out to find her father, Robert Thorn, missing for more than ten years and accused of stealing a fortune in emeralds called the Tears of the Damned. She is convinced that Finnegan MacGregor Sr. is the one behind Robert’s disappearance and the missing jewels. So she drops in on him, literally through a second floor window of his isolated cabin in Alaska. She is going to get the truth, one way or another.

But what she find when the lights come on is a smoking hot naked man with a charming smile and an answer for everything. Finn McGregor Jr. is not at all what she expects to find but neither is the squad of hired killers bent on stopping Lexy.

When the smoke clears the cabin is reduced to rubble but one of the dying killers whispers one word that sends Lexy and Finn off on the adventure of a lifetime.

“Tears.”

Leaving Finn to explain the dead man in his yard, Lexy sets out to find the Tears of the Damned and what happened to her father.

In Africa, Lexy discovers a whole side of her father’s life she knew nothing about and that the men trying to stop her search are willing to go to any length, even cold blooded murder.

As the body count mounts, Lexy finds the strength to fight on and that help can come from the last place she expects.

From the Land of the Midnight Sun to the heart of the Dark Continent, Lexy and Finn track a mysterious Commander, fighting rebels, government soldiers and their overwhelming attraction to each other to find their fathers and… The Tears of the Damned.

How about an excerpt from Tears of the Damned?

She looked away, toward the compound somewhere beyond the trail and the ocean of green. It really was crazy. Her father, Finn’s father, Samir, those misguided young men who worked for Birch, and the children . . . there were so many bodies piling up on this mission. How many more was it going to take? Hers? Finn’s?

God, why did that thought make her chest tighten?

Finn crushed out the cigarette on the tree truck and tapped her shoulder. She looked up to see him looking down the trail to the south. She heard it then, the welcome rumble of a truck.

She jumped to her feet, grabbing Finn and shoving him into the middle of the road.

“Lay down!” She ran back and got the AK-47, and darted to the opposite side of the road.

“What?”

“Lay down. We need them to stop.” She strapped the gun to her chest, pushed the banana clip into place and slipped the firing position pin to the middle, making it fully automatic.

“And if they don’t?”

“People always stop when they see someone lying in the middle of the road. It’s human nature.”

“That the stupidest–”

The truck turned the corner and Finn dropped to the dirt. Lexy hid in the underbrush and aimed the gun a few feet ahead of Finn. If they didn’t stop, she could stop them on the spot.

The truck slowed and the driver blew the horn. It rolled closer, blasting the horn again. She could see Finn flinch. She took a deep breath and prepared to pull the trigger. The driver slammed the brake and the truck skidded to stop, the dust rolling over Finn’s face.

The truck had a canvas covered cab, common enough for equipment from desert nations. The driver stood up and shouted. Finn’s head appeared over the hood and he pointed the 9mm. The driver and the young man in the passenger seat saw the gun and laughed. Lexy sprayed the back of the truck with the bullets and the two in the cab stopped laughing.

“Get out of the truck!” Lexy shouted, but they obviously didn’t speak English.

Finn opened the driver’s door and gestured with the gun for them to get out. That they understood.

Lexy covered them with the automatic. “Go see if there’s any rope in the back. We’ll leave them here.”

Finn hurried to the back.

The driver and his friend were dressed in khaki fatigues. Lexy took their side arms and gestured for them to move to the tree line at the side of the road.

“American?” the driver asked his accent heavy.

“Yes.”

They looked impressed and the passenger nodded to her and rattled something off. Lexy understood only one word. “Birch.”

“No rope, but they had these.” Finn held out a handful of plastic zip cords. “They make a great set of makeshift handcuffs.”

He pulled the driver’s hands backward around one of the smaller trees and looped the cords around his wrist and zipped the straps tight. He repeated it with the passenger.

“That’ll hold them,” Lexy said, swinging the gun over her shoulder.

Finn was grinning. “Good. You need to check out the supplies in that truck.”

She walked to the back of the truck and the driver and his buddy began to chatter as fast as they could talk. Somehow she suspected they were trying to talk her out of taking the truck. She flipped the canvas cover back and looked in.

There was no food or water in the back, just a gun . . . 50 caliber vehicle-mounted, fully automatic gun, and dozens of boxes of ammo.

“Whoa.”

“No wonder they laughed at my little BB gun.”

“Thank you, Inanna.” Lexy said, fingering the necklace hanging around her neck. She jumped into the back of the truck, and pulled the last of the canvas cover off the bed. She opened one of the ammo boxes and loaded the gun, then took a seat and wrapped her hands around the wheel.

It was a hell of a gun, operating like a big, deadly, first generation video game. The wheel controlled positioning like a steering wheel, and the trigger, mounted like a joy stick was right under her right hand.

It was perfect.

“You get us to the door, Finn, and this will get it open. Let’s go.”

“Who’s this In-Anna?” Finn asked, crawling into the front of the truck.

“The Goddess of War.”

Finn turned the key and the truck rumbled to life. “Hmm, I would have bet her name was Lexy.”

 

Where can readers find more about your stories, books and you on the Internet?

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marcy.grahamwaldenville

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MRCWaldenville

Buy Links: http://www.amazon.com/Tears-Damned-Treasure-Hunters-Series-ebook/dp/B00D6LA500/

Marcy, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

 

Cover Reveal: Love’s Sorrow by Terri Rochenski

Love’s Sorrow
Means of Mercy #1

by Terri Rochenski
Publisher: Roane Publishing
Release Date: April 21, 2014

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Blurb:
Hired as a nanny for her cousin’s children, Anne Tearle finds security and a loving family. The children are a dream, but London society is a world of its own, one where a displaced farm girl has no business being. But, wealthy rake, Gavin MacKay, helps her to see associating with the upper class might not be as horrid as she first assumed.

Like all things worthwhile, love comes at a price, and the cost soon bestows more anguish than joy. Lost, but not undone, Anne must find the courage to begin life anew, or succumb to sorrow’s unrelenting waves of grief.

About Terri Rochenski:
Terri started writing stories in the 8th grade, when a little gnome whispered in her brain. Gundi’s Great Adventure never hit the best seller list, but it started a long love affair with storytelling.

Today she enjoys an escape to Middle Earth during the rare ‘me’ moments her three young children allow. When not playing toys, picking them back up, or kissing boo-boos, she can be found sprawled on the couch with a book or pencil in hand, and toothpicks propping her eyelids open.

 

Book Spotlight: The Portrait by Charlie Daye

ThePortrait2When Luc and Anika decide to leave the present behind to spend sometime in the past, Adrienne immediately jumps in to help Lizzy run their antique shop. What she wasn’t expecting was to be kidnapped by Tony.

With Anika missing for over a month, Tony decides to take drastic measures and kidnap the young French woman who’s been working in her place. With enough motivation he’s hoping that he’ll learn everything he needs to know about where Anika went and how to get her back.

The Reston house is in turmoil. Luc and Anika return to help with the search while Lorenzo and Will exhaust the resources at their disposal. As a last ditch effort, Anika suggests using magic to find Adrienne forcing Luc and Lorenzo on a journey to the past to find the only person with magic strong enough to bring back the woman they all love.

Excerpt:

It had been a little over a month since Luc and Anika had left for France. Lorenzo had moved into the house with Adrienne giving up his little one bedroom apartment. Adrienne and Lizzy ran the antique shop and had fortunately not seen hide nor hair of Tony since the day he tried to kidnap Anika from the store. Will still had no idea what was really going on and since he wasn’t asking questions no one thought to bring up the conversation. Lizzy finally went out on a date with Will that turned into several more dates but she still refused to consider them dating. Will would only smile and say he was wearing her down.

Luc and Anika had finally picked out a house in the French country side that they both loved. It was far enough away from his parents so they wouldn’t show up unexpectedly but close enough to civilization to allow for day trips into the city.

Soaking in a tub with Luc, Anika said, “I love it here but I will admit whole heartedly that I miss running water, specifically showers.”

Luc laughed, “Oh mon doux, I am not from your time and I miss the running water.” He pulled her across the massive tub into his arms, “Are you ready to head back?”

Anika leaned into Luc’s warm embrace, “Do you think it’s safe to return?”

Luc shrugged, “There is only one way to find out.”

Anika straddled his hips and wrapped her arms around his neck, “We can go back tomorrow. Tonight, I’d like to make love to you in the safety of our little French chateau one more time.”

“I think I like the way you think mon doux,” he said placing chaste kisses on her throat. “Perhaps we could start now and continue on until we are both too tired to move.”

Anika threw her head back and purred. She loved that Luc always knew exactly what to do to her to make her feel good. “Hmmm…. I think I really like the sound of that.”

About the Author: Charlie Daye

Charlie Daye began writing at the tender age of thirteen. With an obsession for romance, happy endings and the supernatural she delves into your greatest fantasies and worst nightmares. She will have you laughing, crying, falling in love and getting angry. She will always give you a HEA but getting there is the journey worth taking.

Charlie Daye was born in Lynwood, California. Her greatest passions are music and writing. Her first short story was written at the age of thirteen. At the time her entire class was asked to write a short story for Halloween as part of a homework assignment. Most of the kids in the class wrote one to two page stories… Charlie wrote eight. The short story titled The Haunted House went on to win her district wide awards and was published locally. From their she began writing poetry as means of expression.

Since her writing career began she’s has published several titles… The House, The Colonial, The Reservation, The Portrait, The Gypsy’s Dance, Mistaken for a Call Girl, Her Last Request and Breeders. Four of which have been nominated for the 2012 RONE Award.

For updates on her books or just to spend some time in her fun and crazy world check out her webpage at charliedaye.com or find her on Facebook!

Contact Links:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Charlie-Daye-Author/344922355541838

http://www.charliedaye.com/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5778139.Charlie_Daye

https://twitter.com/CharlieDaye

Book Spotlight and Review: Murder Upon A Midnight Clear by Juli D. Revezzo

murderuponcoverneg500‘Tis the season … for death.
Murder reminds Detective Helene Collias of Holly PD that crime doesn’t respect holidays. And the last victim she ever expected to find in her case files is the sister of her old flame, Sean Grant. Ordinarily, Helene’s psychic gifts give her an edge but this time, that gift has short-circuited. Could her lingering attraction to Sean be blurring her abilities, or is something more sinister at work?

Amazon Buy link

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My Review: Five Snap, Crackle and Pops
Helene Collias has a bit of an edge over the rest of the shield carrying detectives on the Holly Municipal Police force. She has psychic powers and will need every bit of
them to solve one of the creepiest cases of her career.  A young woman who worked as an elf at the local mall has been murdered and the best lead she has is that the killer may be working as Santa. To make matters worse, the victim is the sister of a ruggedly handsome guy she nearly hooked up with on a senior cruise in high school. Sean Grant lost his parents at a young age, now his younger sister is dead at the hands of a killer with an agenda. But what is his agenda? Why does he go after the Grant family with such a vengeance?Against her better judgment and department policy, Helene is drawn to Sean. She resists the attraction and so does Sean, but the urge to solve the case with its bizarre twists and turns drives both of them to distraction in more ways than one.
This is a hot novel with edge of the seat pacing and a plot that doesn’t let you down. Each character is richly drawn and believable. I especially appreciated the author’s use of the paranormal, without relying on a magical solution to the case. Get it while it’s hot hot hot! I give this book five sizzling stars for a great blend of solid police work, suspense, paranormal touches, and sexy characters who can’t keep their hands off each other.
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Juli D. Revezzo is a Florida girl, with a love of fantasy, science fiction, and Arthurian JuliDRevezzoblegend, so much so she gained a B.A. in English and American Literature. She loves writing stories with fantastical elements whether it be a full-on fantasy, or a story set in this world-slightly askew. She has been published in short form in Eternal Haunted Summer, Dark Things II: Cat Crimes (a charity anthology for cat related charities), Luna Station Quarterly, The Scribing Ibis: An Anthology of Pagan Fiction in Honor of Thoth, and Twisted Dreams Magazine. Her debut paranormal romance novel, Passion’s Sacred Dance, was recently released.

She is a member of the Independent Author Network and the Magic Appreciation Tour. Come learn more about her at http://julidrevezzo.com

Interview with Lisa Olech, Debut Author of Picture Me Naked

Lisa - Author shot 2I am delighted to have Lisa Olech, with me today to chat with us about Picture Me Naked.

Lisa is an artist/writer living in her dream house nestled among the lakes in New England. She loves getting lost in a steamy book, finding the perfect pair of sexy shoes, and hearing the laughter of her men. Being an estrogen island in a sea of testosterone makes her queen. She believes in ghosts, silver linings, the power of a man in a tuxedo, and happy endings.

Lisa, what made you decide to be an author?

That’s an interesting story. I’m an artist and I was taking a course called ‘The Artist’s Way,’ which is all about nourishing your creativity and bringing more spirituality into your work. One of the assignments was to schedule an ‘artist’s date’ with yourself every week. As my artist date one week, I found a writing workshop offered at my local university. It was called the ‘Bad Girl Writing Workshop.’ I’d written a small bit before, nothing major, I just thought this would be fun. I’d never taken a writing workshop before so had no idea what to expect.

The instructor started us out with some quick 5-minute prompts, and I started writing away. It was several months after my father passed away, and I started pouring my heart out onto the page. We took a break and the instructor informed us that when we got back we would share what we’d written. I hit full flop-sweat panic mode! I was in the back of the room with no avenue for escape. So, I had to put on my big girl pants and read what I’d written. By the time I was finished, I was crying. I looked up and EVERYONE was crying.

After class, the instructor told me I needed to keep writing. I told her I didn’t know what I was doing, that I took the workshop on a lark. She said I had something she couldn’t teach people, a rhythm and flow to my writing that spoke of a true writer. She actually got angry when I tried to dismiss the idea. Three other women in the class asked me to join their writing group. I knew I didn’t want to write the type of thing I’d written in that workshop. Too much angst, too much pain. I’m not that type of person, so I tried my hand at writing humor and they loved that too. So I started writing shorts and memoire, and then I heard about this little thing called National Novel Writers Month (NANOWRIMO), I wrote my first novel in 2004 and never looked back!

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?

The best part of writing for me is when my characters surprise me. It happens in every book I’ve written. I’ll have one character go ‘rogue’ and do or say something completely independent of what’s in MY head. I love it.

The least is when I get an attack of self-doubt, but I think that’s common among writers and artists.

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing?

I’m a daydreamer and a creative thinker, and I’ve always loved telling a good story. And I’m a hopeless romantic who’s been married to her best friend for over thirty years, so writing romance was a natural for me.

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

Absolutely!! All of them!

You’ve written seven novels and are working on a five book series. What’s your favorite time management tip?

My best time is early mornings, so the alarm goes off at 5:00 and I’m in my writing chair by 5:15. (I’ve even put a coffee maker in my bedroom!) I try to limit my early morning email checking, etc. and spend at least three hours writing every morning. 

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

Oh, I am a definite pantser. Over the years, I have worked with very loose outlines and scene schedules, but for the most part, I like to let the story bloom on its own.

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?

I actually got a piece of advice from a very wise woman when I first started writing. She told me not to submit anything for at least a year. She said this was a tough business and I needed to develop a thick skin if I was to survive. She was right.

Do you have a theme song for this book? What music did you go back to over and over as you wrote it?

I don’t have a theme song for this book. The only music was Jagger’s humming and gentle guitar playing, and that was only in my head.

Tell me more about Picture Me Naked. PictureMeNaked_w7791_300 (1)

Z. Z. LAMBERT wasn’t born uptight, but someone needed to be the adult. Zee’s a “color-inside-the-lines” artist with a hippy mother, a mostly dead grandmother, and a cat named Isabella Rossellini. Add to her life’s palette a stunning new life model, Jagger Jones. Is it just her, or does all the air leave the room when he shows up? Good thing he’s just passing through. This is no time to fall in love, especially not with her model, no matter how perfectly knee-melty he may be.

Australian JAGGER JONES is a rolling stone. Living with nothing to tie you down takes talent. Posing without your britches is a piece of cake. He’s three years into his walkabout with only his dead father’s ashes for company.

But Z.Z. Lambert stops him faster than a croc in the mud. Her paintings of him are incredible. She sees past all of his posturing, past the flesh and bone and uncovers his heart. Zee understands the promise he made his father, and comes to love him enough to let him go. But does she love him enough to let him stay? His only other choice is a future without her. And he can’t picture that at all.

How about an excerpt from Picture Me Naked?

      “Artists, let me introduce Mr. Jagger Jones. He’ll be with us for the next several weeks. Make him feel welcome, shall we? Let’s not frighten him off on his first day.” Did Madeline just giggle? “Jagger, there is a men’s room down the hall, third door on the right. You can change down there.” She tipped her hand and checked her oversized watch. “We appear to be running a bit behind schedule this morning, so if you’d like to get us started, I think we’re ready for you.”

“Won’t be needin’ the men’s room, Maddie, darlin’. Can be naked in a blink of your lovely baby blues.” Jagger smiled at Madeline, dropped a beaten canvas book bag near the model stage and kicked off his sandals.

Zee glanced at Leah. She was practically drooling.

“Yummy. Don’t you just love his accent?” Leah whispered. “And what a cool name.”

“Charming,” Zee muttered, trying to shut out the Australian lilt. She resharpened and organized her already sharpened, organized pencils. Next to her, she heard Leah gasp and exclaim under her breath, “Mercy.”

Zee looked back at the model’s dais. Oh… my…

Mr. Jagger Jones may or may not be arrogant, but he was a beautiful example of the male form. His tall frame made his physique long and lean, yet his muscles were chiseled and well defined. She only had a view of his backside, but it was one of the finest backsides Zee had ever seen.

And then Jagger Jones turned around.

Where can readers find more about your stories, books and you on the Internet? 

Website: http://www.lisaolech.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Lisa.A.Olech.Writer

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LisaOlech

Buy Links: http://www.amazon.com/Picture-Naked-Stoddard-Art-School-ebook/dp/B00FE3QK0C/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386082422&sr=1-1&keywords=picture+me+naked

http://www.amazon.com/Picture-Me-Naked-Lisa-Olech/dp/1628300418/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1386082422&sr=1-1

Picture Me Naked can also be purchased through The Wild Rose Press. www.thewildrosepress.com

Lisa, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

Thank you, Sharon! It’s been my pleasure!