Monthly Archives: March 2015

Guest Post: Shelly Crane

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Ava has watched her parents, Caleb and Maggie, live the perfect
fairy tale, the perfect love story, played out in front of her eyes her entire
life. Her family is love, life, and happiness. The Jacobsons are everything a
family should be and Ava is loved and well taken care of. But the one thing
that’s missing from her life is the one thing she’s waited for every day, the
one thing her kind knows will make them complete, the one thing they thought
was gone and lost forever.
 
Her significant.
 
Seth has lived with the Watsons his entire life. They’re the
only family he knows, but he knows that there are things they keep from him. He
knows that they lie and they do unspeakable evil, things from when he was a
child that he can barely remember that cling to the edges of his memory. He
barely remembers his real mother and all he knows is what he’s told. He doesn’t
know what to trust. He wants to believe that the Watsons love and care for him,
have his best interest at heart, but isn’t so sure of that anymore when he
finally—after a lifetime of waiting for her—meets his soulmate, and the
Watson’s first act is to try to take her away from him.
 
The Virtuoso worlds collide, hearts are exposed, humans are
endangered, and the lives of Seth and Ava are changed forever. They’ll have to
love without judgment or reservation, they’ll have to be wise and accepting
beyond their years, they’ll have to forgive for things before they’ve even
happened, they’ll have to trust without seeing, have faith without knowing, and
they’ll have to light their own way in the dark when everyone else is blind to
show them the way. And more than anything else…
 
… they’ll fight like hell to keep each other.

 

 

 

When I entered the kitchen where the breakfast nook was, everyone
stopped eating and talking, which made me feel so uncomfortable until Seth
stood up so fast that his chair almost tipped over behind him.
He let his out in a slow, low noise before… “Wow.”
Mom chuckled and leaned back with a smile, clapping twice. “And
that, ladies and gentleman, is how it’s done.”
My neck was so pink I could feel it, and Seth—realizing he’d just
practically fallen at my feet in front of everyone—smiled that smile that tore
through me like tissue paper and then turned it on my mother. She sat up
straighter and looked at me with wide eyes.
‘I know’, I mouthed as I moved toward him.
“Eat, Ave,” Dad said, knowing what I was doing.
“I’m going to be late. And it’s the last day of school before
winter break.”
“Gee, I wonder why you’re late—” Rodney began. I punched his arm.
“I’ll just take this.” I grabbed a biscuit, stuck a piece of
sausage in it, and wrapped it in a napkin. “I’ll eat it,” I promised.
“I’ll make sure she eats,” Seth told them. Mom came and hugged
him, telling him something in his ear and he nodded. “Thanks, Mrs. Jacobson. I
will. I promise.”
Dad patted his shoulder and told him to make sure to stop by
anytime, no invitation needed. Dad went to the counter and started making me a
coffee in a to-go cup. I knew he was doing it, because I saw him pull the
Hazelnut creamer from the fridge. But I saw him pull out a second to-go cup…and
he made it black. How did he already know that Seth took his coffee black?!
“What is going on here?” I muttered under my breath.
Seth took both of the cups from my dad and guided me with an arm
around my back. “Thanks for the coffee and breakfast. Bye, guys.”
“Bye, Seth!” Mom called cheerily.
I looked at the snow and the porch as we came outside to make sure
that everything was the same, that I hadn’t entered an episode of a TV show of
some alternate reality or something.
I looked at Seth. “If you tell me your name is The Doctor,
I’m outta here.”
He laughed loudly. “And now you’re a “Doctor Who” fan? Freaking
adorable,” he mumbled under his breath. “Your parents are awesome, Ava.” He was
so sincere.
“I was worried I was going to have to save you.”
“No need.” He used his elbow to swipe the snow off of a spot and
then set the coffees on his hood. The truck was already cranked so he must have
the kind where you do it from the key fob because there were no footprints in
the snow. He opened the door, helped me in, and then got the coffees, handing
mine to me. “They were awesome about not making me feel weird. Even Rodney
wasn’t too bad.”
He laughed before shutting my door.
My dress wasn’t too short, but I did notice how it rose up
mid-thigh when I sat down. But the leggings kept the ensemble decent. And warm.
The truck was so warm, but I still slid over as
soon as he shut my door. When he got in and saw how close I was, his grin was
adorable. He got in and turned the heat on even more, looking at my legs and
shutting his eyes for a few seconds too long. “You’re not too cold with those
on?”
“Leggings?” I laughed.
“Is that what they’re called?” he half-growled as he backed out
and got on the road. “They should be called evil.”
“They’re just like pants, just thinner. Jeans, just not made of
quite the same thing. Jeggings.”
He laughed and shook his head. “As long as you’re warm,
sweetheart, call ‘em whatever you want.” He looked at my legs again and then
away with a little groan. “I’ll just call them evil because I can see every
inch of your legs in those things.”
My heart practically did the Tennessee Waltz behind my ribs. “And
that’s evil?” I squeaked.
“Evil,” he reiterated and smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shelly is a NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY
bestselling author from a small town in Georgia and loves everything about the
south. She is wife to a fantastical husband and stay-at-home mom to two
boisterous and mischievous boys who keep her on her toes. She hoards
paperbacks, devours sweet tea, searches year-round for candy corn, and loves to
spend time with her family and friends, go out to eat at new restaurants,
site-see in the new areas they travel to, listen to music, and, of course,
loves to read, but doesn’t have much time to these days with all the characters
filling her head begging to come out. She is author to over twenty books and
counting!
Her own books happen by accident and she revels
in the writing and imagination process. She doesn’t go anywhere without her
notepad for fear of an idea creeping up and not being able to write it down
immediately, even in the middle of the night, where her best ideas are born.

 

 

 

 

 

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Guest Post: Frank Leblanc

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From Gutenberg to Rosamilia

 

Books have come a long way. They used to be written and copied by hand which took years working at it full time. That’s why medieval Europe left that work to monks: because you couldn’t possibly earn a living doing such work and someone had to feed you, house you and clothe you while you occupied yourself in such a mad and tedious pursuit. Imagine sitting there in the same room day after day from morning ‘til night for months on end just writing a book. You’d have to be nuts, or getting there.

 

And when you were finished with it all you had was the one book. If you wanted a second copy you had to start all over again or pass it on to other monks who copied and recopied you in the same silent room, year after year, quietly going insane, until some Viking burst in and stuck a sword through your guts, stole your gold crucifix and grabbed your book on his way out—as an afterthought—to wipe his butt with your pages. That was the best use he could find for your life’s work because he couldn’t read but he sure could use some toilet paper.

 

Then Old Joey Gutenberg rigged up a way to write a book just once with some letter blocks like the ones you played with as a child. The idea was to wet those blocks with ink and press some paper over them and voilà, the birth of the printed page. And you could print as many copies as you wanted if you had the materials. The hand-made paper, bought and sold by weight even after being printing upon, was worth more than the content you printed on it.

 

You see, anybody could string some words together but not everyone could pay for the paper. And don’t even get me started on the cost of binding those pages into a book. Most books printed from the fifteenth to the nineteenth centuries don’t survive today because the printing and binding of books were two separate endeavours, the second of which was extravagantly expensive. Many people could scrape together a few coins to buy a book from their local printer but only the wealthy could afford to have those pages bound.

 

I am a life-long book reader/lover/collector—thirty years of rummaging through dusty used book shops and even dustier thrift stores all over North America, chatting it up with dusty old book dealers who used to be bibliophiles like me before they spent decades up to their eyeballs in the damned things.

 

I’ve spent my life buying and reading them, organising and shelving them, packing and moving them over and over—sometimes clear across the continent. I’ve spent a small fortune just keeping my books housed and shelved and near me, on top of the small fortune I’ve spent acquiring them.

 

At its peak my collection ballooned to twenty thousand volumes before shrinking back to a more reasonable twelve or thirteen thousand books. I achieved my childhood dream of living in a home that looks and smells like a used book shop, similar to the first one I frequented as a kid in my old neighborhood.

 

When that shop closed after fifty years in business I bought up their remaining stock at pennies on the dollar and took home one of their shelving units that had been hand-built by the shop’s original owner, the nice old man from whom I purchased my first books: The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, Frank Herbert’s Dune, Asimov’s Foundation, Heinlein’s Starship Troopers, H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, Poul Anderson’s The Broken Sword, Lovecraft, Zelazny, Donaldson, Wolfe, Steve Jackson, Choose Your Own Adventure, Dungeons & Dragons modules and stacks of comic books.

 

My love of books can be traced to that old shop. I fell in love with them for the imaginary worlds they transported me to and I learned to love books as objects, the look and feel of them, the smell of them, and I loved my own lust for them, how I wanted mountains of books so that I could read whatever I wanted whenever I felt the urge and they would all be there at my fingertips. I didn’t understand how any book dealer could stand to part with any of them.

 

Now, decades later, I’ve come to realise that actually owning thousands of books is a total pain in the ass. And no matter how many thousands of them you accumulate you’ll never have every book you want and you’ll never find the time to read them all anyway.

 

Even once you’ve got them all in your apartment they’re not truly at your fingertips. That familiar book you just saw mentioned in an online post, one that you know you’ve got somewhere has to be found in your giant mess that’s attracting paper-eating bugs and trapping humidity to form mold. That one book you remember buying half a lifetime ago and suddenly want to read could be randomly placed in that massive pile of painfully heavy boxes in the corner, the ones you never got around to unpacking after your most recent move.

 

So I’ve been selling off chunks of my collection. It’s simultaneously a relief and heart-breaking. I feel the weight of them off my shoulders but I miss them already, even the ones I haven’t sold yet. I don’t want to see them to go but I can’t wait to be rid of the damned things. I have become the crusty old man sitting in his dusty book room both in love with and burdened by his rows upon rows of wonderful, beautiful, smelly, heavy, endlessly tiresome books.

 

After many jobs and a couple of small businesses of my own I now work full time for a national chain of book sellers. I live in a large apartment surrounded by my vast collection of books that I’ve always wanted to read or reread. In my spare time I’m working on my first novel. More so than at any time in my past my whole life right now is all about books in various aspects: as objects to be treasured, as a commodity to be consumed, as an outlet for creativity and a labor of love.

 

A few weeks ago I bought my first e-reader. Mostly I bought it for my wife, who’ll be spending this summer visiting family overseas. She’s a voracious reader who can devour a six-hundred-page fantasy novel in forty-eight hours or less. She can read clean through a prolific author’s career within a few weeks. The e-reader is a way of providing her with a summer’s worth of reading material without dragging an entire suitcase of books along with her. Also, I’d been itching to read a few novels that I know are only available as e-books (Thraxas books nine and ten, among others).

 

Within a few days we were fighting over this amazing device. I can tweak the font size and light up the screen to read in the dark so my wife’s sleep isn’t disturbed by a bright lamp. It remembers where I stopped (every time!) so I don’t waste precious reading minutes on the bus or subway figuring out where I left off. It’s the same size and weight as a single mass market paperback but it can contain more books than I have in this whole apartment and I can carry them around with me everywhere and read any one of them with a touch of my fingertip to the screen.

 

I was one of those people you hear saying they’re not interested in e-readers because it’s not the same as the feeling of a printed book in your hands. And those people are right, it isn’t the same—it’s better.

 

I went from averse to astounded in less than a week, after a lifetime devoted to the printed book. From now on I want to read everything on this e-reader. I never want to read a big, heavy hardcover book again. I’m ready to sell every one of these bound paper volumes, keeping only my autographed copies and rare editions.

 

I wish every book ever made in the history of civilization were available as an e-book. Many are. In fact, there are millions of books available as safe, legally free downloads online without even touching any illegal file-sharing websites, and millions more available for purchase, all mine to browse without the hassles of obtaining and storing a physical book.

 

The first book I read on my new e-reader was Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer by Armand Rosamilia. I thought it appropriate since Armand and I met (eleven years ago, Holy Shit!) through a discussion forum about books and writing. Our first encounter was over a transaction in which I handed over some of my hard-earned cash for a stack of his early fantasy novels (keep growing in popularity, my friend, while I sit on these rarities of increasing value) and I’ve followed his burgeoning career with interest ever since.

 

A whole new world of indie authors whose works are only available in e-book form are now open to me thanks to this wonderful device. I can participate in the publishing revolution happening online right now and feel even more immersed in the industry of storytelling than I already was.

 

The future of how those stories are disseminated is literally in the hands of readers and authors rather than being decided upon by a few big corporations and I’m now one of those readers. Lately I’ve been working for the man again after two failed businesses but maybe in time I can change that and in the meantime I can help change the lives of indie authors. The power to do that is in this little device I bought on a whim. It is small but it contains multitudes.

 

I’ve always said we live in a great age. I wouldn’t want to live in any other, except maybe the zombiepocalypse…

Frank Leblanc

Guest Post: A.M. Hargrove

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Kestrel (A Hart Brothers Novel)
**Though is part of the Hart Brothers Series, This is a Stand Alone Novel
**Not intended for readers under the age of 18 due to its mature content and strong language.
 
Two lives with horrific pasts. One chance meeting that changed them both forever.
 
“One look at her and I want to run. Frizzy hair, thick glasses, mom jeans, and ruffles up to her neck. Who the hell wears shit like that? What decade is she living in? My mother doesn’t even dress like that!”
 
Raised by a monster, Kestrel Hart somehow survived. Now that the monster is dead, he’s trying to move on, to pull himself together. Struggling with issues no one can imagine, he moves away from his family, from the brother who loves him and the sister-in-law who supports and understands him the best.
 
Charleston, South Carolina is his new home. And he has a purpose. He’s opening up a new division of his brother’s corporation. But a surprise awaits him. Her name is Carter Drayton.
 
Carter’s past is also a painful one. She is dealing with the tragic death of her family. She’s healing in the only way she knows how.
 
Carter needs love. Kestrel craves human contact. Neither of them recognizes what’s right before their eyes. Will they see it before it’s too late?
 



 
 
Amazon Canada:  http://bit.ly/CanKindle
Smashwords:  http://bit.ly/1GbSyFG
 
 
 
 
As
we walk back to his place he says something to me that I’m not sure how to
take.
“Carter,
I was so wrong about you.”
“How’s
that?”
“Remember
the day we met and you asked me if you weren’t good enough and I said you
weren’t bad enough?”
“Yeah,
I remember.”
“I
don’t want you to be bad.” He stops and turns me to face him. “I need good in
my life. I need an angel, a human angel, like you. I’m sick of all the bad.”
Then he kisses me. We’re in the middle of King Street and people are
everywhere, having to move around the obstacle we’ve created. But Kestrel
doesn’t give a damn. He ends it as quickly as he started it and I’m walking with
him, stunned by his comment.
“Kestrel?”
“Yeah?”
“Will
you tell me your story someday?”
“Yeah.
But it may be a while.”
“Okay.”
I wrap my arm around his waist as we walk. “Do me a favor though.”
“What
is it?”
“Don’t
hurt me. I’m sort of fragile and I don’t think I can deal with that.”
“Same
here, Carter.”
“Do
me another favor, please.”
“Sure.”
“Whatever
you do, don’t let me fall in love with you.”
He
stops walking. “Why’s that?”
“Because
someone always loses in love.”
 
 


 
 One day, on her way home from work as a sales manager, A. M. Hargrove, realized her life was on fast forward and if she didn’t do something soon, it would quickly be too late to write that work of fiction she had been dreaming of her whole life. So, she rolled down the passenger window of her fabulous (not) company car and tossed out her leather briefcase. Luckily, the pedestrian in the direct line of fire was a dodge ball pro and had über quick reflexes enabling him to avoid getting bashed in the head. Feeling a tad guilty about the near miss, A. M. made a speedy turn down a deserted side street before tossing her crummy, outdated piece-of-you-know-what laptop out the window. She breathed a liberating sigh of relief, picked up her cell phone, called her boss, and quit her job. Grinning, she made another call to her hubs and told him of her new adventure (after making sure his heart was beating properly again).



So began A. M. Hargrove’s career as a Naughty and Nice Romance Author. Her books include the following: Edge of Disaster, Shattered Edge and Kissing Fire (The Edge Series); The Guardians of Vesturon Series (Survival, Resurrection, Determinant, reEmergent, and Beginnings); Dark Waltz, Death Waltz, Tragically Flawed (Tragic 1), Tragic Desires (Tragic 2), Exquisite Betrayal, Dirty Nights; and lastly Freeing Her, Freeing Him, and Kestrel—all part of the Hart Brothers Series.



Other than being in love with writing about love, she loves chocolate, ice cream, and coffee and is positive they should be added as part of the USDA food groups.


 
 

Guest Post: Michele G. Miller

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Title: Into The Fire
Series: Wrecked: Book one
Author: Michele G. Miller
 
At fifteen, an
accident turned my world upside down. Scarred in every way possible, I shut
down, finding comfort by self-inflicting pain.
I’ve grown
accustomed to the truths of my life, but I’m tired.
Tired of this
reality…
Tired of the
need…
Of the pain…
I’m weary of being
this person…
Of being alone…
Though, I’m more
afraid of letting someone in.
It’s been five
years.
Can I return home
and face my fears? Overcome the pain?
It’s time to find
out.
For too long, the
story of my life has been one of horror.
I want my fairy
tale.
I want my prince,
my happily ever after.
The question is,
does it want me?
*This is a
standalone novel following a character introduced in the From The Wreckage
series. It is not necessary to read that series to enjoy this story.*


 

 

 

Michele writes novels
with fairytale love for everyday life. Romance is always central to her plots
where the genres range from Coming of Age Fantasy and Drama to New Adult
Romantic Suspense.
Having grown up in both
the cold, quiet town of Topsham, Maine and the steamy, southern hospitality of
Mobile, Alabama, Michele is something of an enigma. She is an avid Yankees fan,
loves New England, being outdoors and misses snow. However she thinks southern
boys are hotter, Alabama football is the only REAL football out there and sweet
tea is the best thing this side of heaven and her children’s laughter!
Her family, an amazing
husband and three awesome kids, have planted their roots in the middle of
Michele’s two childhood homes in Charlotte, North Carolina.
 
 
Into the Fire by Michele G. Miller
Chapter 1
 
Today’s reality… Doing something new
 
January 3, 2018
 
    “Good morning, Danica. How are you today?” asks Dr. Green as he walks into his office, late as usual. 
   

 His glasses sit askew atop his head, his salt and pepper hair sticking out in all directions. This is the man who has been counseling me to get on with my life. The man who scarcely arrives to our appointments on time. But I like him. He’s easy to talk with: jovial, caring, and not nearly as pushy as other therapists I’ve seen through the years. 

    

He seats himself in the chair across from me and I close my eyes, breathing in deeply. “I opened my email this weekend.”



“Oh? Is that unusual for you?” he asks.
 
“My old email. The account from… before.” 
 
Dr. Green remains quiet, waiting for more. When it becomes clear I’m not offering up an explanation he does as he always does – he pokes at the hornets’ nest. “What prompted you to do that?”
 
Tears jab the back of my eyelids, even as a small smile dances upon my lips. “I had a birthday Sunday,” I remind him, knowing full well he’s aware my birthday was New Year’s Eve. “I turned twenty-one, and do you know what I did?”
 
He raises a brow in question, perching his glasses on the tip of his nose, and going to work jotting notes on the pad laying in his lap.
 
“Nothing. I did nothing. I sat in a dark room and watched the teenagers across the street set off fireworks.” I sound so lame, I think to myself, shaking my head. “It’s pathetic honestly. I know it and you know it and that’s why I opened the email. I guess I wanted to know if anyone was thinking of me.”
 
“You guess?” he asks, and I shrug indifferently. “And, what did you find?”
 
What did I find? I found years of accumulated junk mail and well wishes from people I’ve long left behind. I didn’t stop to look at the messages, not all of them anyway. Instead, I clicked the senders into alphabetical order and searched for relevant names. More specifically, I searched for one name. 
 
He’d sent three messages and as I’d read the words on the glowing screen before me, while fireworks popped outside my window, the truth of my life crashed down on me.
 
I’m weary of being this person, of living life alone, of being afraid to live. 
 
I’m more afraid of letting someone in. Again. It’s been five years.
 
Can I face the fear? Overcome the pain?

 

It’s time to find out. Because if I don’t… I’m not sure I’ll survive.
 

Guest Post: MCV Egan

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About the Book:

A word, a single word defines a moment for Anne. She needs to find a new one when her spouse leaves her at the age of 47, coming out of the closet literally in a closet. She finds herself back in her hometown amongst her high school friends which she left behind in her past.

An inheritance from a friend leaves her with the means to meddle and spy on the lives of some of their mutual acquaintances. In an attempt to run from her reality Anne gets engrossed in a game of “fun” and “flirtation” with her friend and fellow sufferer Connie at her side. Anne however did not read all the files and what to her is fun games turns into a deadly reality. It is no longer a game.

Life, death and not even a defining word can stop the reality of manipulation.
Buy Links:

Goodreads I Amazon

Character Sketches:

The characters in Defined by Others are predominantly women. They are all flawed and for the most part very superficial. Some of their flaws are surprising and others are logical. 

I chose women born in the year 1965, I did this to work with a play on Chinese Astrology.  I made them 47 years old as the book takes place in 2012, one of the characteristics of female snakes according to Chinese Astrology is that they are all very beautiful.



I wanted characters that were superficial and very worried about their physique and how others see them; thus being defined by the opinions of others.



The women have a connection as teens from growing up in the same affluent town in the American Northeast. The story is fueled by who they are at 47 and who they were at 17.



ANNE is one of the main characters and the story is told from her point of view, in her voice. She is fluent in many languages and loves words. She likes to define every moment with just one word. Her husband recently left her, and he left her broken and confused. Divorce is hard at any age, but divorce because the man you shared almost two decades with realizes he is gay must be brutal

Anne has a nice side, she is forgiving of her husband, she tries to get into his skin and appreciate that his confusion, she is still however so confused and vulnerable that when life presents her with a way to make other’s suffer as she has, she is pretty quick to grab it.

She has adolescent twins, she is however a very detached parent, as the story evolves she identifies that she continued the family pattern with which she was raised.

In the course of the story she has to make numerous life changing decisions. Anne is in a journey of self-discovery and she has likable and dark traits.



CONNIE is also a main character, she is curiously linked to Anne because her respective husbands have fallen for each other and left them. Connie has been carrying the pain and confusion longer than Anne. She is broken and lonely and in Anne she sees the possibility of a friend, ally or at the very least fellow sufferer.

Like Anne she does not blame the man who left her, and respects that as the father of her children, she needs to wish him nothing but the very best.

She loves to nurture and to cook. She goes completely against her nurturing nature as the story evolves, because she is so hurt, confused and unbalanced.

As much as Connie chooses to also manipulate those she sees as her foes, there is a very tender and likable side to Connie. She loves her children very deeply and is very lost when the main focus of her life changes; she was born to be the quintessential mom.



AMANDA is dead, during the entire story-line she manipulates with her legacy from the very grave. She was ravaged by an illness that magnified her negative traits, and if the other characters are to be believed there was nothing positive about Amanda.

As the story progresses I do give Amanda a background a reason to be so dark, I did so because otherwise the character would be too flat or cartoon like as an image of pure evil.

During her illness she devices away to be cruel and most involved with the women in her past and present. Upon her death (not a spoiler this is the opening of the book) she leaves her “game” to Anne, it is a game of manipulation and deceit through social media.



ALLISON is mean, she identified as Amanda’s mean girl side-kick but she too is a victim of the manipulation game. I have had readers contact me, and it is indeed Allison they seem to dislike the most, I did not feel a need to give her as much depth or an excuse for her nastiness, as she is a secondary character. I just wanted to show that although she is vulnerable, she is also a natural leader.

She is clever and assumes she is far cleverer than she really is. As I wrote Defined by Others I did want Allison to be a sort of live walking continuum to Amanda’s nasty side.



PETER is the only male in the story who is very present, the husbands are in the sidelines. Peter is a lawyer, he connects with Anne at the beginning of the book as Amanda’s lawyer. 

He is kind and understanding, he falls for Anne and he falls hard, he is also divorced and as such looking for a new way to fit in. He is not privy to Anne and Connie’s machinations, but he does suspect they are up to no good.

I wanted Peter to be a very easy man to love, intelligent, successful, and vulnerable. I had to make him vulnerable by having his ex drop him in a cruel and hurtful way. I made him Amanda’s reluctant lawyer so that he would be aware that Anne had inherited something odd and questionable from Amanda, I did not want to turn him into a detective, he needed some level of awareness to make him believable. 

I also had him fall in love with Anne, but fall in love with Connie’s cooking and thus forming a strong bond with both women.



MRS. G. (Anne’s mother) is a character that is as much represented by her dialogue and appearances throughout the story as she is by her “secret room”. Mrs. G. was a liberal adventuresome lady who is also defined by others, and as such she pretends to be as conservative as those who surround her world.



She has a special room, full of New Age Books and other secrets, she is as such very present throughout the story.

About the Author:

M.C.V. Egan is the pen name chosen by Maria Catalina Vergara Egan the author of The Bridge of Deaths and Defined by Others. Catalina is originally from Mexico City, Mexico. She has lived in France, Sweden and various parts of the U.S.A.

She has called South Florida her home for the last twenty-five years; she is a writer, a mother a wife and a pretty good cook.

Her first book The Bridge of Deaths is available in two different versions, her book Defined by Others is the first in a series Defining Ways exploring what makes us flawed and human.

Book two Climbing Up The Family Tree; Defined by Pedigree will be released in November 2015.

Contact the Author:
 
 
 
 

Con Panels Gone Good – My Opinion

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Yesterday I spoke about the bad things you hear and see on panels during a convention. You can read all about it Here. Take your time. I’ll wait. I need to refill my coffee cup anyway.

Today (after better sleep and much more coffee), I am going to share with you some of the great things I have seen during panels at conventions. I’ve been going to cons on and off for the past dozen years, and have had quite a bit of fun during them. This is what I look for when either on a panel or going to a panel:

 

6. A nice mix of panelists.

As much as I love being on panels with authors I know, I’m sure it gets boring for an audience when we spend the time acting like goofballs and tossing out inside jokes here and there. Ideally, a panel of five (including me) should be two authors I’m comfortable with and two spanking brand new authors I want to meet. The same people saying the same things gets stale. A new voice is fun to add to the mix. I go through the panel list not only for subjects that interest me, but see who the panelists are as well.

 

5. Being on a panel with someone you admire.

And they don’t disappoint. At MidSouth Con my last panel of the weekend was about podcasting and not only were all the panelists cool, but Cory Doctorow was on it. While I was the moderator, I found myself throwing questions his way to start a good line of discussion because he’s been there and done that for years. The audience asked him many questions, and I tried to sit back and take it all in. I wasn’t delusional to think the room was packed because I was there. It was about Cory and he is such a great guy, he helped the panel move along and it wasn’t just about him. I have even more respect for Cory now, too.

 

4. Panelists with personality.

Obviously, I have a unhealthy liking for fellow authors Jay Wilburn, Brent Abell and Jack Wallen. Anytime I’ve been on panels with any of them it has been fun and comfortable, but at MidSouth I got to meet Sean Grigsby. Great guy, and he was enthusiastic on his panels. He also went to other panels, which was nice. And he rocked a Judas Priest shirt, so how bad can he really be? If i see someone on a panel who understands the role he/she plays (i.e. talk to the audience and drop some knowledge instead of talking about their own books on and on) I want to know what other panels they will be on over the weekend. I also remember them for future cons, too.

 

3. Don’t just go to your panels.

I love hanging out in the back row of other panels and learning something. At World Horror Convention in Portland, Oregon I went to the podcasting panel and learned so much I started my own podcast a couple of months later. I enjoy learning from other authors. No one knows everything. The con experience isn’t about pumping up your own ego and making pretend people are there to see you, its about networking and learning as well. Take in the entire experience, meet new people, hear other authors talking shop, and go away refreshed. Also, eat some of the cookies in the con suite. They are always delicious. But please don’t kill any elves this year (inside joke, I swear).

 

2. Cons are for networking.

If you’re on a panel or sit in the audience on a panel with someone who made sense up there and gave you some insight, let them know. Logan L. Masterson was a moderator on a panel I really enjoyed, and I told him that. At last year’s MidSouth Con, after a bizarro panel I was on, fellow panelist John Hornor Jacobs came over and said he had a great time on the panel with me. Those moments will stick. Take away a few new friends from each con. Some of the people I talk to on a regular basis I’ve met at cons. Facebook is great for networking but that one on one actual meet and greet moves you to the next level, especially with publishers. I’ve had several sales over the years thanks to looking someone in the eye at a con and just talking to them.

 

1. People not being dicks. 

We are in this together. No reader will reader just one book this year, so there’s no reason to act like if they don’t read your book you’re screwed. Write a good book and maybe you’ll get lucky. I’ve had a ton of sales thanks to people who’ve read an author I am friends with that respects my work, and they’ve let people know about me. Not because they have to but because they want to. Because I’m not a dick. I spend most of my time pushing other authors, because that’s what sells my books. Not ‘buy my book’ posts on Facebook. Not trying to talk trash about another author because you think it will lead to sales of your own book. Cool people are who I surround myself with. I’ve dropped quite a few negative people over the years who couldn’t see they were being dicks. Or couldn’t help themselves. And I’m a better person for it. I’ve made some mistakes and learned from them. I also learn quite a bit at every con I go to, and so should you…

Armand Rosamilia

Panel Etiquette At A Con – My Opinion

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I just got back from another great MidSouth Convention held in Memphis, and as usual I took away a lot of good and some bad from it. Today I’ll talk about the bad, because I still haven’t had enough coffee as I sit down and write this post, and the 13 hour ride home Sunday into Monday is still kicking my ass…

There are a few bad things I saw on panels, and not just this weekend. It seems like every convention I go to, or anytime I talk with another writer who’s done quite a few conventions like I have, these things come up, so I’m here to be a jerk and point out what you really shouldn’t be doing if you’re lucky enough to be invited to speak on a panel with your peers. Luckily, only a couple of these came up this past weekend, and for the most part I enjoyed every panel I was on or sat in the audience for.

6. Don’t be a dick.

You’d think this one would be obvious, but there is sometimes so much attitude on a panel. And all it takes is one jerk trying to run the panel or argue with another panelist. Back in 2005 or so, I attended a con and sat on two panels in a row where guests actually argued about some minor point. It was not fun to be sitting between them. I thought they were both dicks. People in the audience want to be entertained and learn something about writing. Often they are new or wannabe writers and want some guidance, not see an argument or someone who feels they are above answering their petty commoner questions. Trust me, no one has ever heard of you outside your family and the Facebook groups you troll, posting ‘buy my book!’ posts every hour.

 

5. No one came to see you specifically on a panel except your friends and family.

I saw a panel last year where the Guest of Honor of the convention was ignored because one idiot kept talking about themselves. An audience member asked the GoH a question and this idiot began answering, as if he had been asked the question. Again… no one cares about you, and you pissed off a few people. Be respectful of the other panelists and let them have their turn. Please don’t go into a ten minute explanation about how your dragons or elves or serial killer or demon villain is so cool and why they want to eat/kill/have sex with/rap battle with your main character. No one (except your family and your friend who came in support) has read the book, and you’ve turned everyone off about it now.

 

4. If you aren’t on the panel, stay off the panel. 

It drives me nuts when I’m on a panel and some ass-hat in the audience starts talking about their books or answering audience questions. They’re usually the people who only had 2 panels all weekend and felt they didn’t get enough face-time with their potential audience. So they try to jump into my panel, or a panel I am in the audience trying to listen to. If the con team wanted you on this panel they would’ve put you on it. It really isn’t that hard to understand, is it? You’re pissing off the other guests and everyone in the room. Just shut up already.

 

3. Books on the table.

This is bound to piss off a few people, but I don’t care. I have to say it before I take another sip of coffee. I can give you some slack if you bring your latest book with you to the panel and prop it up before you as a reference or just because you’re proud of it. But dropping a shoe box on the table and then rifling through it while other panelists are answering questions so you can find something you wrote in third grade (and this really happened) is boring and rude to everyone else. Having a stack of your nine-volume series in front of you, or having the books spread out across the table and into the person next to you’s area is also rude. I haven’t brought a book to a panel in years. Watch the bigger guests (the guys and girls with their names on the back of the con shirt not lumped in with the rest of us). They don’t usually do it because they’re there to have fun, answer questions, talk about writing and book selling, and not push their books down your throat.

 

2. No one cares about your catalog.

No one wants to hear about all seven stories you have written, especially about the six you haven’t even published yet, and probably never will. Unless you’re lucky enough to be a best seller (and not just one of those insecure ‘Amazon Best Seller’ thanks to a rank in an obscure list where there are only 12 books) talk about YOU. Answer the questions from the moderator and/or the audience to impart knowledge and show off your stellar personality. Every answer doesn’t have to talk about why someone should buy book 4 of your Were Rat series. Chances are, no one in the audience and none of the other panelists have heard about you before this moment. And they definitely haven’t heard of your Were Rat books. Sell yourself and maybe someone will buy a copy. Unless you’re George RR Martin, the audience isn’t there to see you. They just want to be entertained and enlightened about writing books.

 

1. Seriously. Stop being a dick. 

Luckily, the authors who do most (if not all) of the things on this list don’t last too long in the business. They don’t see a spike in their sales over the next few days after the con and don’t pick up too many new fans because they are only remembered as the jerk who talked about themselves. They have no long-term plan in place and that’s a shame. Maybe their Were Rat series is brilliant. I’ll never know, because I would never read a word they wrote after their selfishness all weekend. And I have a feeling neither will anyone who came in contact with them.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll be in a better mood with much more coffee and I’ll write about the good parts of con panels…

Armand Rosamilia

Guest Post: Sabrina Rawson

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Title:   Blood Oath
Author:   Sabrina Rawson
Published:   March 6th, 2015
Publisher:   Titan InKorp Ltd.
Genre:  Contemporary Romance Suspense
Content Warning:   Violence, Rape, Kidnapping, PTSD, Human Trafficking, Sexual Content
Recommended Age:  17+
Synopsis:
Collin was prepared for anything, until he met her…
Collin spent fifteen years leading a team of operatives renowned for their zero failure rate of disrupting the horrors of human trafficking. Struggling with PTSD, he was ready to retire after one last mission. He had to stick to the mission and any distractions could lead to lives lost. His attraction to Madeline was instantaneous, a future filled with warm nights now possible. Meeting Madeline made him want to let life happen and she was the woman he wanted to share it with.
Madeline couldn’t believe her luck meeting Collin on her first vacation ever. She knew she was a workaholic, but she had to in order to be a successful business owner and overcome the stigma her parents had left behind. The more time spent with Collin, the more she wanted him to keep on looking at her for the rest of her life. Kidnapped, Madeline has trouble believing she can survive the abuse of her captors. Remembering who she used to be, Madeline retains hope the one man she loves will rescue her.
Neither will stop at anything until they can hold each other in their arms again.
Real life situations from human trafficking to PTSD. This story is about not giving up on life. Doing all things impossible to survive one more day.
Amazon | GoodReads

Excerpt for Blood Oath by Sabrina Rawson:
The landing didn’t prove to be too difficult and they had a two hour layover before getting on their flight to Mexico. Madeline grabbed something to eat then checked with the gate representative to make sure their luggage would make it to the correct flight on time.
With everything settled they both proceeded to sip their coffee and wait for their boarding call. Several people began to congregate in their boarding area, but both she and Shelly were content with reading from their Kindles to take much notice. There was still a half hour left before they were to board.
Shelly nudged her arm making her lose her place with reading, “What?” she hissed, not wanting to stop what she was reading.
“Check out the men at one o’clock,” Shelly whispered.
She carefully lifted her eyes and gasped audibly. In front of her were seven men. Each man was above six feet in height and extremely muscular. They were dressed in jeans, polo shirts, and casual walking shoes. She was impressed with how they looked. They appeared as if they were body builders all settled on a little vacation time like they were.
Looks like their vacation finally perked up.
Several of the men were sporting full sleeve tattoos and despite misconceptions about men with tattoos she had always found herself partial to both men who had them and those who did not.
“Guy in the dark blue shirt to the left is hot. Like fucking hot,” Shelly hissed, louder than she felt comfortable with.
“Keep it down or else someone will notice our drooling,” she hissed back, more irritated her friend had interrupted her gawking.
“I call dib’s on the man in dark blue. You touch and you break our girl code,” she said matter of fact.
“What are you twelve,” she shouted, sitting up in her seat glaring at her girlfriend. “What girl code and what the hell. It isn’t like anything has even happened yet!”
She knew she was stressed about the vacation despite their mutual pep talk earlier. She more than anything, wanted to have the romance relationship of a lifetime, but more than that just wanted to by loved and to love in return. That wasn’t too much to ask for.
Shelly just stared at her folding her arms across her chest.
“What?” she asked, feeling the headache from earlier reminding her it had not disappeared.
Gesturing with her hand Shelly waved in the direction of the men. Seven pair of eyes stared back at them for a few seconds before turning back to their private conversations.
Shelly poked her in the arm settling back to read her Kindle. Pretend to read it, she guessed.
“You screeched at me like a banshee,” she gritted out.
She picked up her tablet, heat filling her cheeks in embarrassment, “I did no such thing. You interrupted me from what I was doing and it was pretty serious,” she hissed in return. “I didn’t realize I spoke so loud.”
Placing her hand on Shelly’s arm in a gesture of peace she noticed Shelly frowned while looking down at the hand on her arm. She needed to make amends for her actions, “I’m sorry I poked you. That was completely immature of me.”
Rubbing her head with her free hand she gave up reading and closed her Kindle. “I think this headache has me acting out of character. I’m sorry for getting upset with you.”
“Hey, we’re going to have fun, men or no men. Just two women on an adventure, right?” Shelly said, leaning over to dig through her bag.
“Right,” she replied, frustrated she had acted so poorly when what Shelly had said was exactly what she had said to her earlier.
She chanced a glance back to the where the men stood and her heart stopped. The most beautiful man stared back at her. A half a foot or taller than her six foot height, his frame was completely muscular. It appeared he was pushed the limit on the polo shirt he was wearing or his muscles in his arms were going to split the seams if he moved too quickly. His stony expression hadn’t concealed his initial reaction when she first glanced up, nor did it distract her from his beauty.
His hair was sandy blonde almost a warm caramel color. She wanted to walk up to him just so she could get closer and find out if she had imagined the color or not. She could tell from where she was his eyes were bright green. He wasn’t standing more than thirty feet away, but she could tell he was very aware of his surroundings. He seemed like he was taking her in as much as she was of him except he was cataloguing everything around them simultaneously. His visual appraisal made her lick her lips in anticipation. What would he say if he knew how bad she wanted him to keep on looking at only her?
Shaking her head she dispelled their staring contest, burying her wicked thoughts. Oh, she looked at the rest of his face while they had studied each other, but it was his eyes that had held her attention. They were the same color she had imagined all her book boyfriends’ eyes looked like. She called them dream eyes. He was her dream man in the flesh.
She chuckled at her inner thoughts and began to pack up the stuff she had settled around her in preparation for the flight. What had come over her? One minute she was snapping at her best friend and the next she was mesmerized by one of the very men she had snapped at Shelly about. Maybe it was his crooked nose that had caught her attention?
The scar that ran from the side of his nose across his cheek down his throat hadn’t distracted her focus neither did his full lips. Lips she wanted to taste and feel all over her body. A body her hands itched to explore. She hadn’t seen any tattoos on his arms, but did that mean his weren’t hidden.
Flustered at where her thoughts had carried her she fidgeted with the zipper of her carryon too frustrated to pull it smoothly across its seam.
“If you pull that thing any harder the first thing we will purchase when we get there will be a new bag for you. What’s with you?” Shelly quipped, reaching over to take the bag from her before she broke the zipper. “You usually treat your luggage with delicate fingers.”
Wiping her forehead with her hand she felt like she was about to break a sweat. She knew her hot flash was because she couldn’t get rid of the images of what she wanted to happen with the man a few feet away. Naked things. Sexual things. Things she had never felt from her body before. For the first time in her life she felt desired with such intensity the feeling shocked her.
“I’m fine. A little shaken, but fine,” she admitted.
Shelly stopped what she was doing and looked at her. She tilted her head and scrutinized her with an expression she recognized as the analytical Shelly. She knew she was about to get a lecture about living in the moment, but thank God first class seats were called to board.
They rose grabbing their bags and heading embarrassingly past the men to hand the flight attendant their boarding passes. Before they walked into the Jetway, one of the men said, “The red is one classy babe, but the brunette is hot. I don’t know which one is better. They both look hot to me.”
She and Shelly gasped, but neither one of them had enough nerve to turn around. Leaving the waiting area, the last thing she heard before hurrying to their seats was an unmistakable growl followed by the possessive words that sent chills straight to her core.
“The brunette is mine.”

 

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About the Author:
Sabrina is a cancer survivor who recently published works with Survivor’s Review and Titan InKorp Online eMag. She has published two novels within a New Adult Urban Fantasy series called A Novel of four Realms and a new Contemporary Romance Suspense Novel series called An Eagle Operatives Novel.  She enjoys life happily married to a supportive husband. You can always find her reading a book or cooking a meal for her multitude of children.




Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
  • 2 x $15 Amazon Gift Cards (Int)
  • 1 Book Bag with swag (US)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Guest Post: Mary Smith

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Hidden behind the walls of
Unit, Vermont is what many believe to be a religious cult. However, inside
these walls lie the secrets to why Unit may be one of the most beautiful
towns around. Residing inside the gates are the descendants of Mother
Nature, who help keep the balance of Earth. 

Among these descendants, Xaviera Anderson reigns as the Princess to Unit.
Her life was much the same, until today, her eighteenth birthday. Today is
different because she’s to be Matched with one of the Unit males who her
parents have chosen for her. Once Matched, Xaviera has to go through a
decision period. She must decide if she wants this life or

leave Unit powerless to be a normal human. 

It is not until she’s tested by the ones she trusts that Xaviera questions
her faith in people and that of Mother Nature.
***This is for an audience over the age of 18 due to its sexual nature***

Today is my birthday.
Today is my twentieth birthday.
Today is the day I meet my Matched.
Those were my first thoughts as I opened my eyes. Then, I needed
to throw up.
I raced to my bathroom and became sick. I kept my head in the
toilet until I felt a cold wash cloth on the back of my neck and hear my mother
laughing at me.
“Well, it seems strange, but twenty three years ago I was in the
same position when I was about to meet my Matched,” Mom joked.
“I think I’m dying.” I breathe out lifting my head.
“I doubt it, my dear.” Mom rolled her eyes at me, helped me get
to my feet and led me to the sink.

 

I brush my teeth and wash my face trying to regain my
senses. 
 

 

Best Selling Author, Mary Smith, has been coming up with stories
her whole life. She has written A HOCKEY TUTOR, THE ICE SERIES, as well as
co-authored THE PENALTY KILL TRILOGY and OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN SERIES. When
not busy writing or rooting for the Chicago Blackhawks you can find her with
her nose stuck in her Kindle.

 

 You can visit her website
at: 
www.authormarysmith.blogspot.com
 Follow her on Twitter: @maryms1980

 

 

Guest Post: Rebecca Ethington

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Barnes &
Nobles: http://bit.ly/157aTGB
Burnt
Devotion, Book 5 in the Imdalind Series. Dawn of Ash – the previously announced
book five has now been moved to book 6. Yes! An extra book. If you have been
waiting for the next installment of The Imdalind Series this is the book you
have been waiting for!
It was
supposed to be the final battle, the one to end Edmund’s line, his life, and
free the magic Edmund had taken from the world. That was how it was foreseen.
The end of the battle that has raged for centuries, unbeknownst to the mortals
around them, the battle that would end with Joclyn’s death.
But it did
neither.
The battle
still reigns, Joclyn still lives, and the sight that was given eight hundred
years ago is broken.
And it’s not
the only one.
Sights that
were once thought infallible have become nothing more than scattered glass,
with broken pieces shattering into incorrect visages. Sain clings to the magic
that he knows to be true, but there is something else, something that he is not
saying. And what he does say is no longer adding up.
Something is
wrong.
Ilyan and his
people move through the caves, following a sight they hope to be correct,
fleeing a battle that should have been the end while the battle within each of
them grows with each step.
Ryland fights
the monsters his father has infected him with.
Wynifred
fights the confusion of who she is.
Dramin fights
to live.
Prague may not
survive this battle, it may be ripped to shreds… or burned to ashes.
  Rebecca
Ethington is a story teller and author from Salt Lake City, Utah. She has been
telling stories since she was small. First, with writing crude scripts, and
then in stage with years of theatrical performances. Rebecca’s first stint into
the world of literary writing, The Imdalind Series, was released in October
2012 and since its release each book has been found in several top 100 lists on
Amazon. Rebecca is a mother to two, and wife to her best friend of 14 years.
Her days are spent writing, running, and enjoying life with her crazy family.

 

 

 

 

 

“Dying Days 5” Schedule And Release Date

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Dying Days 5

I am nearing the first draft finish line for the next installment of the Dying Days series, Dying Days 5 (which is up as a pre-sale) and I am truly excited. 

For those of you who have been reading along since Dying Days (and, perhaps Darlene Bobich: Zombie Killer or the original extreme zombie novella, Highway To Hell, the story and world has progressed into even more divergent paths. Ones I am quite proud of!

With Dying Days 5 I continue to tell the story of not only Darlene Bobich, but old and new survivors as well as the zombies themselves. 

My schedule for the release will be as follows:

Today… Pre-sale of Dying Days 5 is now up. Get your copy as soon as it goes live when you pre-order. 

Sunday April 5th… Beta Readers will get their hands on a copy. I am very blessed to have some great pre-readers who offer me some valid points, and I will be reaching out to 3-5 of them right before this date to see if they have time to read and give thoughts on it. 

Tuesday May 5th… By this date I’ll have all the notes in and will have done my rewrite. Taking into account my wedding on April 18th and then the week honeymoon, and this last weekend I will be in Atlanta at World Horror Convention, I know I am cutting it close. But I do love a crazy deadline. At this point I will send it off to my editor, Jenny Adams, to start ripping it apart. 

Monday June 1st… hopefully uploading the finished copy a week ahead of schedule. 

Tuesday June 16th… Dying Days 5 will go live, right in the middle of the upcoming Summer of Zombie Blog Tour! I actually plan this each year, and have had one out during the tour. More info on the tour itself coming soon, as well… 

Armand Rosamilia

Guest Post: London Saint James

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Title: Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One
Written by London Saint James
Listening time: 1 hr. 23 min. 20 secs.
Narrated by John Thrust

Title: Dark Tales Diaries: Volume Two
Written by London Saint James
Listening time: 1 hr. 41 min. 55 secs.
Narrated by John Thrust

 

Blurb for Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One

For years, Tristan Blackthorn has toiled to find his lost love. He finally decides to use Blackthorn Printing, along with his newly created Dark Tales Diaries, as a way to find her. Will her story be one of the three tales in Volume One?

Mistress Guinevere’s calling card is her Red Stilettos. She specializes in a particular fetish and always maintains her control, until a man from her past returns to test her will.

A recently divorced woman experiences the effects of empty nest syndrome after her twins head off to college. With the clock ticking away, she decides it’s far past time to seek out something that has always eluded her. Will she find what she’s looking for with The Leather’s Edge?

And a bored computer programmer learns what it’s like to feel sexual freedom after being bound by a Master in Safe Word.

Be Warned: Bondage, anal sex, sex toys, fetish
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, BDSM, Short Stories, Series

 

Blurb for Dark Tales Diaries: Volume Two

Blackthorn Printing made a splash in the publishing world with the introduction of Dark Tales Diaries, yet despite his efforts, Tristan Blackthorn isn’t any closer to finding the woman he seeks. Unwilling to give up on his lost love, his search for Keira continues in Volume Two.

A voyeuristic moment leads an astronomy professor and his assistant to a steamy endeavor on The Observation Deck.

An invitation for cocktails has the reclusive woman who lives in 204-B pondering why the handsome, wealthy owner of her building would invite her to anything. Does she have enough guts to go to The Top Floor?

And a Maestro strikes the right cord with a young and talented cellist who is trying to find her passion.

Be Warned: BDSM, anal sex, public exhibition, voyeurism, sex toys, spanking
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, BDSM, Short Stories, Series

 

SoundCloud Audio Clip of Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One: https://soundcloud.com/londonsj/dark-tales-diaries-volume-one-audio-clip

Buy Links for Volume One:
Audible: http://www.audible.com/pd/Erotica-Sexuality/Dark-Tales-Diaries-Volume-One-Audiobook/B00T3DDZE8/
Audible UK: http://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Erotica/Dark-Tales-Diaries-Volume-One-Audiobook/B00T3D2ZJO/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00T569MI6
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dark-Tales-Diaries-One-Unabridged/dp/B00T3DDLO2
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/audiobook/dark-tales-diaries-volume/id964292937

 

SoundCloud Audio Clip for Dark Tales Diaries: Volume Two:
https://soundcloud.com/londonsj/dark-tales-diaries-volume-two-audio-clip

Buy Links for Volume Two:
Audible: http://www.audible.com/pd/Erotica-Sexuality/Dark-Tales-Diaries-Volume-Two-Audiobook/B00T56GNRO/
Audible UK: http://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Erotica/Dark-Tales-Diaries-Volume-Two-Audiobook/B00T569BUU/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Tales-Diaries-Volume-Two/dp/B00T8591XU/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dark-Tales-Diaries-Two-Unabridged/dp/B00T5MGAGC/
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/audiobook/dark-tales-diaries-volume/id964949109

London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

Web: http://www.londonsaintjames.com
Blog: http://londonsj.blogspot.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/LSJRomance
FB Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/London-Saint-James/154331444626603
TSU: https://www.tsu.co/Londonsj
google.com/+LondonSaintJames
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/LSJRomance

You can also e-mail London with any questions or comments at London@londonsaintjames.com. She loves to hear from her readers.

Would you like to know more? Join her mailing list for her monthly newsletter http://eepurl.com/6P2on. Or, join her book group on Facebook, Slip Between the Pages with London https://www.facebook.com/groups/SlipBetweenthePageswithLondon/

About the Narrator John Thrust

The path that lead me to record erotic literature would make a pretty good story in itself. I may write it someday. It involves a cyber-relationship with a virginal gal whose secret goal in life was to become a full time sex slave. True Story. Her family would have NEVER guessed! I’d been recording regular “vanilla” type books prior to that, as a hobby, with an eye toward becoming a “real” voice actor. This gal pointed me to a specific book and in so doing introduced me to the world of BDSM literature (this, by the way, was right BEFORE “50 Shades of Grey” broke huge). Rather than just read the book, I recorded it. I shared it with her and with some other gals I’d met online. The response was startling to me. For the sake of modesty, I’ll spare the specific accolades. The one book led to the recording of another and then others. The feedback continued to be really, REALLY positive. So much so, that it occurred to me that this ‘erotic genre’ may be a niche I should pursue. So here I am pursuing it. I still record other books as well… but these books are the most fun *sly grin*. My background started in radio in college. I toyed with theater, did some plays – even did a short stint in Chicago’s famed Second City training program. LIFE intervened however and I got ‘a real job’ supporting computer networks in Chicago. Eventually that career ran its course and I decided it was time to do what I really WANTED to do – Voice Act. I enjoy it and I hope to help you enjoy your listening experience too.

– John

 

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Update – March 2015 – Podcast Appearance and Call For Beta Readers

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Brandon R. Luffman was a recent Arm Cast Podcast guest!

Brandon R. Luffman

Not much new to report, but a couple of things worth talking about.

First, you may have noticed that I’ve titled this one as the update for March. I don’t know if that’s going to be “a thing” or not, but I do want to update the blog more regularly, if only to keep you all in the loop on what I’m up to. So, maybe I’ll make this a monthly thing?

The first bit of news to report is my recent appearance on Armand Rosamilia’sArm Cast Dead Sexy Horror Podcast. As usual, those of you who follow my Facebook page have probably already heard about this, but it was a fun little interview. One reason it was so enjoyable is because Armand doesn’t do interviews in the traditional sense. Instead, it’s just two authors sitting and talking about whatever for an hour or so. We talked about writing…

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Guest Post: 7 Sinful Secrets

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Book Title: 7 Sinful Secrets
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Genre: Erotic romance,
Anthology, Short stories
OVERALL BLURB:
Seven
marriages—seven sinful secrets.
Marriages
shouldn’t have secrets, should they? Follow our seven couples, as they come to
terms with the fact that their partner has been holding something back from
them. Will it make or break their relationship? Read on to find out, and have
your fan at the ready, because these secrets are hot!
THE KNICKERS by +Doris O’connor 
 Discovering frilly
French Knickers in your husband’s dry cleaning can only mean one thing, right?
They’re certainly not Mareijke’s! Devastated at this find, she returns home
early and walks in on the unmistakable sounds of Stefano in the throes of
passion… but things are not what they seem…
 
BEHIND THE MASK by +Raven McAllan 
 When Daisy went on
holiday she did not expect to return with a drop dead gorgeous husband. Life is
great until she meets a masked stripper at her belated hen night. She knows the
eyes behind that mask, doesn’t she?
 
BIT ON THE SIDE by +Jorja Lovett 
 Helen thought
she’d lost her husband to depression after he lost his job. Now he’s back,
happy, horny and ready to play. But Carl’s spending so much time on his
computer she’s worried he’s got something to hide. Will his secret tear them
apart, or bring them closer than ever?
 
DOMINATION DREAMS by +Michaela Rhua 
 Nicholas Cole has
been married to Marissa for twenty years, and he dreams of being dominated by
his vanilla wife. When he returns from a business trip, he is in for one heck
of a birthday surprise.
 
ANNIVERSARY GIFT by +cherie nicholls 
 Cleo knows her
wife is up to something, and she is determined to find out what it is. When she
walks in on Marie and some bloke at a hotel room, she thinks all is lost. And
then Marie orders her to stay… And when your Domme gives you an order…
 
SEX TAPE by +Kiru Taye, Author 
 Juan Roberto’s
unexpected arrival home turns on its head when he discovers his wife Noni has a
mind-blowing surprise she’s been hiding from him. Discovering secrets and sex
tapes have never been hotter or more pleasurable…
Contains: a naughty video and an even naughtier married
couple rediscovering each other.
 
TASSELS by +Alannah Harte 

 

 Harrington loves
his new wife Penny. So much so that he puts his own desires for a more exciting
sex life to one side. Their lovemaking may be vanilla, but it’s all he needs,
or so he thinks, until the suitcase breaks and he discovers her secret.
 
 
 
Playlist:
 Survive
You – NKOTB
Apologies
– OneRepublic feat Timbaland
I Gotta
Feeling – The Black Eyes Peas
Troublemaker
– Oly Murs feat Flo Rida
Diamonds
– Rihanna
 
 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt from The Knickers by Doris O’Connor

“Because seeing you dressed like this makes me horny as hell.”

He had to be hearing things. She could not mean what she had just said. However the short bursts of her warm breath against his neck and the hardness of her nipples against his arm confirmed the truth behind those words, as clearly as the musk of her arousal. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be wet for him. Her body gave her away, as surely as his own responded to her. The dominant in him rose to the fore, and he halted the upwards progress of her hand with a growled, “No.”

She froze, and he fisted his hand in her hair, pulling her head backward to enable him to study her face. Stefano lost himself in the tender and hopeful expression mirrored in her beloved features, and he kissed the tears still clinging to her eyelashes away.

Mareijke sighed in submission, and he smiled into the kiss he slanted across her lips. How he had missed her, the simple act of kissing, tentative strokes of her tongue matching his forceful ones, as he took the kiss deeper, angling their bodies until she was lying underneath him on the bed. He yanked the cushion still between them away with an annoyed growl and thrust his frill covered cock into her groin.

She gasped into his mouth and clung onto his shoulders. Arching her hips to meet him thrust for eager thrust, she locked her ankles behind his ass, and Stefano grunted his approval. This is what he needed, this reassurance that she still wanted him as much as ever, and suddenly he couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted her bound and naked, the silky walls of her tight pussy milking his cock, as he fucked her hard and fast.

He broke the kiss with a bite to her lower lip that made her squirm, and he cupped her mound. The damp fabric made him smile almost as much as her hiss of pleasure when he pressed against her clit. A shudder went through her, and her eyes went wide when he straddled her legs.

“Grip the headboard for me, and don’t let go.”

She complied immediately, and he grabbed the ends of her sensible blouse and yanked hard. Buttons popped and fabric ripped as he pulled the thing clean off her, and his breath stalled in his lungs at the vision in front of him. His wife’s ample breasts were barely concealed by the scraps of red lacy scaffolding covering the heavy mounds, and he ran his knuckles across the hard nubs clearly visible through the see-through fabric. They firmed even more, and she arched into his touch. Her little teeth made imprints on her bottom lip, swollen from his kisses, and her whole body shook in need when he ran a finger under her bra cup. He pulled it down freeing that breast to his gaze and with a grin at her bent down and sucked the rosy tip of her nipple into his mouth.

“Stefano … please…” Her lust-filled moan shot straight to his cock, and he suckled harder, kneading the other nipple between his fingers. He knew how responsive she was to this kind of stimulation, and helplessly trapped as she was under his legs, he could feel the rising tension of her body, her desperate need to come. Breath coming in short gasps, her auburn hair feathered across the pillow, she held onto the headboard with a white knuckled grip, as her body clambered towards release. She screamed her annoyance when he released her nipple and bit down hard, causing her to pant harder.

With an audible rip the delicate lace of her bra gave way under his ministrations and her bountiful curves spilled into his waiting hands. Stefano pushed them together and blew across her distended nipples. Mareijke squirmed underneath him. A fierce blush spread across her sweat-slicked skin, and her head rolled form side and side. He drank in the sight of his wife lost to her arousal, and a sense of calm settled over him, like it always did, when he gave her pleasure. Even without the discussion that they would have to have soon, he knew that all would be all right between them. Stefano lifted himself off her and pulled her pants off, taking her lacy thong with them. The musk of her arousal drew him, and he left the trousers dangling just under her knees. Pushing her knees up, he angled her lower body until she was half lying on her side. With her hands still clutching the headboard and her legs trapped inside her trousers she had nowhere to go, and he ran his hands down the curve of her hip and kneaded her ass cheeks. She pushed into his hand with a small moan, and he brought his hand down on one shapely ass cheek.

“Yesssss, again … Please, Stefano … I need.” The rest of whatever she was going to say was lost in the sound of his hand connecting with her milky flesh, and his cock threatened to split its lacy covering, seeing the red marks of his possession. Hearing Mareijke’s needy sighs in his ears he couldn’t wait one minute longer. The sheets of the bed were stained with her arousal, and without further ado he freed his throbbing dick and aligned himself with her wet entrance.

“I’m going to fuck you now, cara. Is that what you want?” He growled his question into her shoulder and bit her ear, soothing the sting with his tongue.

********

Excerpt from The Anniversary Gift by Cherie Nicholls

Whats so amusing?
She said youd come.
Did she? Well you can let her know Im here.”
Come on
in.”
Cleo stepped in to the room. He didnt leave her much room, and forced her to brush against his body.
Who was at the door, Mitch?Marie asked walking out of the bedroom in nothing but black lingerie. The very same set Cleo had bought for her birthday.
Your woman has arrived.”
Cleo expected shock, perhaps guilt. She saw none of that in Marie. A smile spread across Maries face. Cleos temper started to rise. Marie wasnt even sorry that she’d been caught.
Mitch, as in Mitchell, your new PA? Little cliché dont you think,
Marie?
Perhaps, but it works for me. He works for me, too, in more
ways than one.



 

I dont need to hear about your exploits, thank you.”
No? But
I thought you liked when I talked dirty, baby?Cleos
cheeks burned. How dare she?
How dare Marie try
flirting with her when she’d been caught
cheating?
Yeah, well that was before you decided I wasnt enough
to keep you entertained.”
Is that right?Marie sat on an overstuffed chair, a hand casually stroking the swell of her breast.
Damn her, as angry and hurt as Cleo was, she still wanted
Marie.
Yes,” Cleo said.
Mitch, get the door,” Marie said.
She was going to have Cleo thrown out? Fine. If thats the way this was going to end, then fine. She’d walk out with her head held high even if her heart was in shatters.
The sound of the lock snapping into place drew Cleos attention.
Good
boy,Marie said with such praise for the man Cleo wanted to
headbutt him.
Mitch locked the door.
What the hell?
Cleo watched him cautiously as Mitch walked around in front of
her.

 

Now, Mitch, show my woman why youre here with me.”

Doris O’Connor

http://www.dorisoconnor.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Doris-OConnor-Romance-Author/241366635885432

https://twitter.com/mamaD8

Cherie Nicholls

http://www.cherienicholls.co.uk/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cherie-Nicholls-Author/191441327590566

https://twitter.com/CherieNicholls

Raven McAllan

http://www.ravenmcallan.com/

https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan

https://twitter.com/RavenMcAllan

Jorja Lovett

http://jorjalovettauthor.weebly.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jorja-Lovett/179111238840916

https://twitter.com/jorjalovett

Kiru Taye

http://www.kirutaye.com/

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKiruTaye

https://twitter.com/KiruTaye

Michaela Rhua

http://michaelarhuaauthor.weebly.com/

https://www.facebook.com/MichaelaRhua

https://twitter.com/MichaelaRhua

Alannah Harte

http://alannahharte.blogspot.co.uk/

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008779457617&fref=ts

https://twitter.com/alannahharte

 

Guest Post: Tony Leslie Duxbury

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My novel is about an ordinary young man that is accidentally transported from his boring, but safe life in England to an unnamed world by a magician that later claimed that he was only practicing and didn’t pick on Jojo on purpose. The world to which he is transported is in the medieval stage of development, which frightens the hell out of young Jojo. For some reason the magician, Shadlow, ignores his pleas to be sent back immediately. Also, Jojo finds himself in the middle of a needle match between the magician and the King’s henchman, Ironfist. As Shadlow continues to ignore the issue Jojo grows more desperate and fears that he will be condemned to spend the rest of his life there. Luckily, he has freedom of movement and can understand the language. Jojo spends a lot of his time in taverns, drowning his sorrows and meets a variety of people. Finally, he realizes the only way to change his situation is to take matters into his own hands.  Despite dropping into a peaceful era he discovers that King Thomas is not well loved, the nobles decadent and the peasants full of resentment over the erosion of ancient privileges.  Although a normally happy-go-lucky type, Jojo decides to get tougher and forge a revolution, using the different characters that have befriended him in the plot.  The plan revolves around kidnapping the King’s daughter, Princess Lily and stirring up unrest among the peasants. The two great obstacles to his plan are Ironfist and Shadlow, but his plan includes the death of one and the neutralization of the other. During the planning stage Jojo has many crises of conscience and agonizes over the moral issues. In short, Jojo doesn’t like what he has become, but continues regardless. The plan lurches into action and everything goes wrong from the start, but finally Jojo and his cohorts win the day.

The Adventures of Jojo Smith: Amazon Kindle and Createspace/ Goodreads.com

The writing of this novel started out as an experiment. I wanted to see if I was actually capable of writing a coherent story. The reason I chose fantasy is because it has become my main reading material. I started reading at around fourteen years of age and  mostly read thrillers and adventures. Then, back in my twenties when I was travelling in India I swapped some books and ended up with T.H.White’s The Once and Future King and that set me on the path of fantasy reading. Later came Lord of the Rings and others.  So, as a sword and sorcery fan, I wanted to write something in a similar vein. As I don’t take myself too seriously I thought it would be better to write something  that was amusing and so put my hero into a setting he would never imagine himself to be in. From there I tried to figure out what would be my own reactions to a similar situation. I started out with just the idea of the main character and then found a situation to put him in. After that the story developed by its own accord as I came up with ideas. There wasn’t any real plan or structure prior to writing it.

I came to writing late in life. It wasn’t a lifelong passion, but over the years I’ve read some dire books and had always wondered if I could do any better. My writing came about because of encouragement from others. Since the age of eighteen my main passion in life has been travel. I would work, save up money, travel and return to England to start the whole process off again. As the years rolled by it became increasingly more difficult to find work, so I started to look around for a qualification that I could take with me and use on the road, instead of returning home once again. Settling on social work I set about getting into it by taking a short course in the local community college and some voluntary work. The short course led to another one and my tutors were very encouraging about some of the writing I did for it. To cut a long story short, I ended up studying for a degree in Social Science. Because I was a mature student who had been out of education for a very long time I attended a remedial course set up for people like me. By the end of it the tutor who ran the course, a published author herself, encouraged me to try my hand at writing. I didn’t act on her advice immediately, but waited until I graduated. Then I sat down and wrote the first six pages of my novel. Unfortunately, a severe case of writers block struck and I couldn’t continue, but I took those pages with me when I moved to Guatemala. There, for some reason, I was able to finish the book and have since written more.

I’m an ex-pat Brit living in Guatemala, C.A , which has become my adopted country. I married a Guatemalan woman and became the step-father of three kids. Now we have seven grandchildren. For 15 years I taught English, but have also sold clothes, jewellery and coffee, together with my wife and our latest venture was a cafeteria, which we recently closed. Although I’ve had my book on Amazon Kindle for quite some time I haven’t been able to promote and market it until now.  

Tony Leslie Duxbury  

My beautiful picture

Guest Post: Adrian W. Lilly

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Werewolf trilogy looks at world under werewolf rule

Adrian W. Lilly’s The Wolf at War is the final book in The Runes Trilogy, a werewolf series that begins with a single family’s struggle against werewolves and ends with a worldwide werewolf takeover.

“The series is a werewolf odyssey,” Lilly explained. “It’s far from a typical coming of age story, but it is about personal discovery.”

From the outset of the series, werewolves, in human and beast form, are plotting against humanity. The intricacies of the plot ever-evolve as the story unfolds across the three books.

The first book in the series, The Wolf at His Door, brings together young love—even as the lovebirds discover they have dark ties to werewolves. Simultaneously, two detectives work different cases: a number of missing person’s cases and two gruesome murders. As the book progresses, the detectives determine that the cases may be related. One reviewer said the book builds to “an absolutely epic ending.”

The Wolf in His Arms opens 10 months after the end of The Wolf at His Door. Alec, Jared and Lucy work to uncover the werewolf plot against humanity. The tension builds as they travel across the country trying to find members of The Pack.

Ilene, Alec’s mother, is battling depression after the losses she suffered at the hands of the werewolves. She unwittingly stumbles upon an 80-year-old mystery and finds herself at battle with the werewolves once again. Her husband, Jason, feels isolated from the family that is keeping secrets from him. So he begins his own investigation.

The main action takes place in and around Detroit. Ilene and Jason Rune, Alec and Lucy’s parents, have moved into a downtown loft. Locales around Detroit, including Campus Martius, factor into the action. The main characters traverse the Midwest, however, visiting a small Iowa town, and Boystown Chicago, where a pivotal scene takes place on Halsted St.

“The Midwest is the perfect setting for a horror novel,” explained Lilly. “It offers major cities, small towns and countryside—all within a day’s drive.”

As the werewolves come closer to realizing their plan, the family is not the only ones in the path of destruction. Millions of lives hang in the balance, inspiring a reviewer to say this book “is like Adrian Lilly’s The Empire Strikes Back. The action comes fast and furious, the characters are virtually divided and conquered, and the situation is dire…”

Book Three opens on the same night as Book Two ends. Much of the third book is dystopian world ruled by werewolves, where humans are subjugated. The main characters are now resistance fighters, trying to find a way to stop the seemingly unbeatable army of werewolves.

An excerpt from Book One: The Wolf at His Door can be read here.

The books can be purchased at:

Amazon

Kobo

Barnes& Noble

Smashwords

iBooks

Amazon UK

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About Adrian W. Lilly

Adrian W. Lilly is the author of the novels The Devil You Know, Red Haze, and The Runes Trilogy: The Wolf at His Door, The Wolf in His Arms, and The Wolf at War. His short fiction and poetry have been published in Hello Horror, 69 Flavors of Paranoia, Nervehouse and The Weekly among other publications. He can be found online at http://www.adrianlilly.com

He is a fan of Gothic suspense movies and novels, which greatly influence his writing. Adrian’s writing focuses on strong character development and the nuances of fear that build toward horror. The mansion in his first novel, The Devil You Know, was inspired by the grand mansions in the Victorian neighborhood where he lives.

Adrian writes novels, short stories, and poetry and has spent many years as a copywriter in the advertising industry. In addition, Adrian has directed two short films and co-directed a feature-length sci-fi comedy.

My website: www.adrianlilly.com

Facebook: facebook.com/adrianwlilly

Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+AdrianLilly

Twitter: @AdrianLilly1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6545875.Adrian_Lilly

Armand Rosamilia Interview About “Hollywood Hellmouth”

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The always lovely Claire C. Riley interviewed me about my latest, Hollywood Hellmouth, a horror comedy co-written with Brent Abell, Jay Wilburn, Jack Wallen and myself…

http://www.clairecriley.com/blog/mihm2015-men-in-horror-month-presents-armand-rosamilia

HWHM

Guest Post: Jane Yates

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CHAPTER 1

 Left Alone

 

Deep in space, Aberdeen sat on a balcony overlooking a grand party her mother hosted. Everyone wore their finest clothes. The music was loud; a type of remixed jazz. Aberdeen searched her mother out among the crowd of guests. Upon spotting her, she gazed at her mother’s attire; a long silk dress, the colour of shock blue. This was matched by elaborate feathers and sparkling jewels that hung in her blue hair. Her mother’s hair swung down her back, which highlighted her large dragon tattoo. Aberdeen eyed the lead in her mother’s hand and followed it to the golden robot dog sat beside her. It was tall and thin, and even from where Aberdeen sat, she could see the cogs moving inside it as if it had a tiny heart beating.

Aberdeen’s mother laughed gaily. She had the full attention of a young officer with braided hair, who was smartly dressed in his green and gold uniform. As he chuckled along, his head dropped back and a cool thin line of rose-smelling cigarette smoke slid from the corner of his mouth.

Aberdeen continued to watch the party from above. As usual, there was no sign of her father; probably in the engine room of the ship, she guessed. She browsed at all the fresh fruit and flowers in the tall bowls and glasses decorating the table. She knew that they had been picked up the last time the ship had docked at one of the satellite stations. She had learnt that the fragrant, exotic flowers had been grown in large artificial garden domes and she longed to see one.

She looked down in awe at the musicians. A large man sat at a glass piano, his fingers elegantly flitting from key to key. Aberdeen could see his fat belly though through the transparent top of the piano; it wobbled tastelessly as he played, a huge contrast to his regal demeanour. Aberdeen also noticed a tall, skinny man, strumming a black shinny double base and three female trumpeters who all wore brown and white stripy suits.

Draped from the metallic ceiling were candle-shaped lights, and in between them dancers gambolled on trapeze ropes. They wore porcelain masks and flamboyantly displayed peacock feathers, midnight blue and jade green, in their hair. They matched the rhythm of the quintet perfectly, Aberdeen thought.

The floor was polished to a high shine and Aberdeen could see the refection of the sociable people in it. In the corner of the room was an old gentleman who caught Aberdeen’s interest. Upon his head was a black top hat and he rested a glass monocle on his eye, which magnified his golden brown iris so even Aberdeen could see. His long twisting moustache made Aberdeen giggle.

There were no children however, and Aberdeen wondered what the workers’ children were up to. She suddenly felt quite alone.

Aberdeen picked up some of the plastic cocktail sticks that had been dropped on the floor; planting them along the edge of the balcony and playfully imagining them growing into amazing flowers. She soon tired of the game and thought about going downstairs to join the party, but knew that her mother would not be pleased; her mother felt that children should be seen but not heard and, where possible, not seen at all. Her mother had not wanted children. Aberdeen knew she hadn’t been planned and her mother, a socialite, did not have time for her, nor did she wish for her daughter to mix with the other children on the ship, as these were the workers’ children. The elite children had been shipped off to boarding school, but Aberdeen had not settled in well there and caused fights with the other children. She was returned to her parents in disgrace.
Aberdeen had wanted to play with the ship workers’ children, but her mother, on one of her brief and rare visits to see her daughter, told her horrid stories about them. “They have revolting lice in their hair,” she had said, and “Do you want them to jump at you and bite you?”

So instead Aberdeen spent all her time in the company of her robot nanny; her Guardian. Her Guardian was programed to do whatevershe wanted, as long as it did not disturb the child’s parents. It was efficient but uncaring, which had led partly to Aberdeen becoming the same way. The Guardian was responsible for her education too and arranged her meals and even dressed her. It was also programmed to tell stories. The wondrous tales and adventures of frightful dragons and grand castles were her favourite and she would spend her time imagining dragons flying around her room acting out her own brave endeavours.

 

Early the next morning, Aberdeen awoke thinking she had heard screams and cries for help. Frightened, she locked her door and snuggled tightly underneath her covers. The thick duvet muffled the cries from outside, and before long, she had drifted back to sleep.

When she awoke some hours later, having convinced herself that the commotion from the night before had been a terrible nightmare, she opened her door and sat on her bed waiting for her Guardian. Minutes later, it still hadn’t appeared.

Aberdeen browsed her room to pass more time; it was only fair she allowed her Guardian a little extra before she left the room. Her room was plain compared with the lavish party setting of downstairs, although she knew she could have it decorated any way she desired. She chose to not have a lot. What she liked doing the most was playing with her robot snake. Aberdeen was content with her few intimate toys rather than having extravagant playthings she had no need of. She had books, but she preferred to be read to. The furniture was clinical white, undecorated and simplistic in design. Everything served a purpose and there wasn’t even a carpet on the floor, just white lino. There were pictures on the wall, but none that she had chosen, as if put there by someone who had no knowledge of her at all.

She suddenly remembered the soft toys she once had, which consisted mostly of dragons, but they had been stored away when she had been sent off to school. Her mother, still angry at Aberdeen’s quick return, as if she was but a nuisance, had not retrieved them yet. She much preferred her robot snake anyway.

Aberdeen felt herself becoming increasingly frustrated; why wasn’t her Guardian coming to dress her? She wasn’t used to waiting. When the rage become too much, Aberdeen jumped and stamped her feet screaming for the Guardian to come. When it still hadn’t arrived, she sulked down the hallway until she came to the balcony. All the food and glasses were still left set out, but there wasn’t anyone around. Aberdeen descended the staircase and quickly snatched some of the food. On her way back to her room, she grabbed an opened bottle of wine.

As she crossed the polished floor however, she froze and looked at her sad reflection. Her plain looks gave way to a sour jawline, giving the impression that she rarely smiled. In truth, Aberdeen realised that she hardly did. Her shapeless chestnut hair appeared dull. She looked as far away from the fashionable figure of her mother. Her words rung in her mind.

Spoilt, bad tempered little child!

 

Aberdeen promptly scooted back to her room. Perhaps her Guardian had arrived.

 

Aberdeen was furious to find it hadn’t. She slid her food underneath her bed and squeezed under herself, thinking mean thoughts. She ate some of the food and sipped the wine, which made her sleepy. Eventually, not realising how long had passed, and getting rather bored, she played with her small robot snake. She built high obstacles out of plastic bricks for it to slither around. She tried to imagine that the snake was a dragon from one of her stories and that the bricks were castles. When she had drained the wine however, Aberdeen soon found herself slipping into a slumber.

 

But when she awoke, her angry temperament hadn’t left her. Where was her Guardian?

Just then, outside her bedroom door she heard two muffled grown-up voices.

“It’s a shame; she was beautiful, taken in the prime of her life,” the first voice said.

“She was a mother too,” the second voice replied.  “I hear she had a child, a girl, although nobody ever really saw her.”

Aberdeen got out from under her bed and opened the door. She frowned at two officers who were stood in the hallway wearing gas masks.

“Oh, look, Barnabas, there’s a child here, alone in a place like this!” one of them said, pointing and grabbing another mask from his bag which was slung over his shoulder.

“Who is she?” the second offer asked.

“I’m Aberdeen Gale,” Aberdeen introduced herself, pulling herself up as tall as she could and staring at them both.

“Oh, this must be the girl no one ever saw. Poor thing, she must have been forgotten,” the first officer said, holding out the mask for her to put on. Aberdeen glared at the mask; it was a strange shape, light brown in colour with two round windows for eyes. She spotted a dull copper filter hanging from it. The gas mask itself could have been really old if it not for the fact that there was a green triangular light flashing on it.

“I don’t like it!” Aberdeen shouted, folding her arms across her body and scowling at the men.

“Oh, the poor thing, she’s frightened,” Barnabas said, a hint of patronisation in his voice.

“I’m not poor at all,” Aberdeen snapped. “My father is in charge of the ship. I need you to take me to him at once as my robot has not come for me.”

Barnabas knelt down next to Aberdeen. “You poor child,” he said softly. “Everyone is dead. There was a distress signal, which we picked up.” He helped her to put on the gas mask.

Aberdeen could not believe what she was hearing. She tugged at the gas mask, rearranging its strange structure. It felt heavy on her face and it made her want to itch her skin. Barnabas offered her a smile. He looked to his colleague for support, who continued to talk as if Aberdeen was invisible.

“Maybe the girl survived as she leads a solitary existence? Well, that will have to change now.”

Barnabas continued to smile at her.

“You must come with us, my girl,” the other officer instructed, holding his hand out to Aberdeen. “We need to take you off this ship and back to a halfway station for quarantine. Juno is probably the nearest one.”

“Your robot is not coming,” Barnabas told her as if he had sensed her thoughts. “All the worker robot signals were shut down when the distress signal was issued.”

Aberdeen glared at him, “I don’t believe you!”

“It’s true,” Barnabas said. “It’s part of the fail safe protocol. When the distress signal is sent it allows for every eventuality, even robot attack, so it shuts them down.”

Aberdeen stood still, her mind racing, she did not know what to do.

“It was some sort of virus,” Barnabas continued. “We are not sure of all the facts as yet, but from what we can piece together it looks as if one of the crew members released a fast acting, deadly virus as a grudge. We suspect a chemist.”

Aberdeen must have looked blankly at him, as he continued. “We were on our way to arrest him anyway. He had been developing new Class A drugs and had become paranoid.”

Aberdeen took a step backwards unsure to believe them or not. She wasn’t quite sure what ‘Class A’ drugs were, but she definitely didn’t like the sound of them.

The other officer said, “Look, we haven’t got time for this. We need to get you off this ship; it’s going to be decommissioned.”

Aberdeen ran back into her room and scooped up her snake and placed it in her pocket, then followed the two officers along the corridor and away from the only home she had ever known.

Text copyright © Jane Yates 2015

Jane Yates Links –

 

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jane-Yates/689082927842499

Twitter – https://twitter.com/JYparadoxchild

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7162069.J_Yates

Garden Links –

 

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/GardenNovel

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23294980-garden

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00PAYYK3E/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00PAYYK3E&linkCode=as2&tag=danthom-20&linkId=WO4VVE33IEHPWOBW

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00PAYYK3E/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=6738&creativeASIN=B00PAYYK3E&linkCode=as2&tag=danthom-21&linkId=3IAPVE54LBYJ5R3D

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/496280?ref=AutumnOrchard

Book Depository – http://www.bookdepository.com/Garden-Jane-Yates/9780993023927?a_aid=dan_pentagram

Kobo – https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/garden-7

B&N – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/garden-jane-yates/1120923206?ean=9780993023927

Nook UK – http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/garden-by-jane-yates/2940046457278

Youtube Trailer Link – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACQSVhtXpAo

 

 

Autumn Orchard Links –

 

Facebook – http://facebook.com/autumnorchardbooks

Twitter – http://twitter.com/autumnorchardbk

Website – http://autumnorchardbooks.wordpress.com

“Hollywood Hellmouth” Interview

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Jack Wallen, Brent Abell, Jay Wilburn and Armand Rosamilia wrote a book together. 

Horror. Humor. Stupid Situations. 

We also got interviewed for said book by Frank Edler and his magnificent blog, so read all about it… 

http://booksbeerblogshit.blogspot.com/2015/03/sin-shitty-interview-with-creators-of.html

HWHM

Guest Post: Zee Monodee

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Let Mercy Come by +Zee Monodee 
Corpus Brides #3: The Conclusion
Romantic Suspense

 

Let mercy come
…and wash away our
sins…
A woman on the run
Valeriya Morozova has managed to carve out a do-over for
herself away from the clutches of the Corpus
agency. The one formerly known as Anastasiya still lives on the edge, paranoid
anyone will bust her secret and turn her in. Agency leaders believe her to be
at the heart of the failed mutinous plot to overtake command, and the price of
that betrayal—never mind that she is innocent—will be her life, paid in blood.
A man who’s always
followed orders
In his decades inside the Corpus agency, case officer and former super-spy Graeme Whitman—aka
Scott—has always paid heed to rules and obeyed all his orders. When he is
chosen to bring the traitor Anastasiya back into the fold, Scott knows it will
be just one more job he will successfully complete. After all, doing the right
thing is atonement for your past mistakes, right?
Secrets running deep
Scott has secrets; who doesn’t? But he isn’t prepared for
the full cupboard of skeletons Anastasiya carries with her…starting with the
reason why she ran away from the agency. The more he digs, the less he is
certain of, until he comes to ask himself why everyone has falsely painted her
as a hard-hearted sociopath.

 

But is Anastasiya a victim, or a skilful manipulator? When
her past collides with her present, the future as both she and Scott conceived
it shatters. They’ve answered the call of duty all their lives—will they have
to make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of love?

 

{2 Excerpts. Pick One please}
EXCERPT 1
“Why did you run, Ana?”
She hitched in a breath. That’s the
nickname he’d used— Don’t. Think. Of.
That.
“Antonia. Nothing mattered except her. She
wouldn’t grow up inside the agency, and I wouldn’t let anyone take her from
me.”
“There was nothing else?”
“That wasn’t enough?” she shot back at him.
He sighed again. “Things have been
happening inside the organization.”
“What kind of things?”
He stared at her. “Mutiny.”
“What?” Surprise dropped like an anvil over
her and she stumbled to the bed, where she fell into a heap next to him. “You
must be joking!”
“Sadly, no. You didn’t notice anything back
in there? It never struck you that something could be amiss?”
She turned to face him. “Something was amiss, Scott—I was pregnant, about
to bring an innocent, defenceless child into this fucked up existence of being
a Corpus agent. Excuse me for not
thinking of anything beside that.”
“Speaking of, who’s her father?”
She steeled herself to answer this
question…with a non-answer. “Why did you have to fake your death?”
Had he noticed she’d evaded the query?
He remained silent for long seconds, before
he responded. “You recall the Stepanovic case in Marseille, a little over a
year ago? Nothing was going as planned there, and it even ended in a case
death.”
She nodded. “No conclusive evidence, no
influence worked, and he even disappeared after a while. Total failure for us
on that one, I remember. The boss hadn’t been pleased.”
“You’ll also recall it’s not the only case
that fell off the wayside around that period.”
She frowned. “Now that you mention it…”
“Someone from the inside was letting those
criminals walk away. Fey had also disappeared; we suspected she’d gone rogue.”
She winced upon hearing that name. How
she’d hated that woman, because Fey had worked with Scott and had managed to
snare him into her bed a long time ago. She’d had everything Valeriya had ever
wanted for herself.
“Then someone targeted Kali.”
“Oh, my God! Is she okay? She isn’t…?”
“She’s fine. Her agent status burned, but
she’s alive, living like a civilian now in Notting Hill with her husband.”
A sigh of relief rushed out of her.
Kali—aka Rayne Cheltham—had been her best friend inside the Corpus. Right before cutting and running
from Prague, she’d done all she could to save the life of Ash, Rayne’s husband,
who’d been hit by a rogue bullet when he’d walked in on one of her operations.
Rayne, the only person she’d informed of
her leaving, without giving her any details as to why. Her friend must now
think the worst of her.
And so must Scott, and everyone else.
Clarity suddenly beamed in her mind.
“You think I had anything to do with this?”
Only someone on the upper echelons of the organization could’ve pulled this
mutiny through, what with having access to case files and their whole arsenal.
And she had disappeared right after Rayne
got burned.
That’s why Scott had been looking for her.
EXCERPT 2
She closed the distance between them to go
stand right in front of him. She had her out; would he listen to her, though?
“Then let us go, Scott. Antonia and I can
disappear. You don’t need to put your life on hold because of us. Seth, your
son, he needs you.”
“I can’t do that,” he murmured.
“Why not? If this is atonement for you,
then I’m asking you to let us go. Do this and you’ll be free.”
“I don’t want to be free.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Not when you are, too.”
He’d completely lost her there. She glanced
up into his face, and the breath whooshed out of her at what she saw on his
face. Pain, but of a different kind. The type that accompanied unrequited
longing for another person.
She shook her head. I must be getting delusional. Why would Scott—
All thoughts screeched to a halt when he
brought a big hand up and gingerly cradled one side of her jaw in that warm
palm.
“Forgive me for saying this, Ana, but I’ve
wanted a future with you ever since the first day I saw you.”
A small puff of air escaped her.
He smiled as his eyes took a faraway glint.
“You looked so prim and proper in that white lab blouse. Still so young, but
your eyes… They said you had lived a long life already, that you had a lot
concealed behind the façade you showed the world. Then you looked up and asked
me—”
“…did you have a choice to be here?” She
remembered that instant probably more vividly than he did.
He gave a lazy blink, as of coming back
into the moment to stare at her in the now. “I had one back then, and I have
one now. That day, I chose duty. Today, I choose you, Ana.”
“Scott—”
“Graeme. My name is Graeme.” He rubbed the
pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. “Say it. I want to hear you say it.”
She parted her lips. He’d trusted her with
his real identity, and if she believed all he’d said until now…
“Graeme,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes as he took in that
sound; at least, that’s what it seemed like to her.
“Graeme, please…”
He opened his eyes and peered at her. “What
is it?”
When his touch on her cheek lost some of
its pressure, all the life inside of her ebbed away like the tide gathering for
a tsunami. It took everything from her. If she lost him now, when he’d showed
her how much he wanted—no, needed!—her, she would die.
She had to show him. That’s when she
reckoned her body had gone stiff from the second he’d touched her, petrified in
surprise, and he must have gathered her response as being this aloofness in her
body language.
He was wrong. Oh, so wrong!
First step; she’d have to take it.
So Valeriya listened to her heart, and she
brought a hand up to clasp his where it had started to recede from her jaw. She
pressed her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth.
“Graeme, please…” She glanced up into his
eyes. “Kiss me.”
AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON CA | SMASHWORDS | ALL ROMANCE

Walking The Edge will be on sale from March 10th to 20th. Click the image for more info.

 

Author, editor, smitten wife, in-over-her-head mum to a tween boy,
best-buddy stepmum to a teenage lad, bookaholic, lover of all things fluffy
& pink, chronic shoeholic, incompetent housewife desperate to channel
Nigella Lawson (and who’ll prolly always fail at making domestic goddess
status)…
Zee hails from the multicultural, rainbow-nation island of
Mauritius, in the southern Indian Ocean, where she grew up on the figurative
fence—one side had her ancestors’ Indian and Muslim culture; the other had
modernity and the global village. When one day she realised she could dip her
toes into both sides without losing her integrity, she found her identity.
This quest for ‘finding your place’ is what she attempts to bring
in all her stories, across all the genres she writes. Her heroines represent
today’s women trying to reconcile love, life, & relationships in a
melting pot of cultures, while her heroes are Alpha men who often get put back
into their rightful place by the headstrong women she writes. Love is always a
winner in her stories, though; that’s a given.
**Find more about the latest on Zee and her works in her monthly
newsletter 
http://eepurl.com/5GULr
**Read about her life & her books at her website/blog http://zeemonodee.blogspot.com/
**Friend her on Facebook (she loves to make friends & meet
new people!) 
https://www.facebook.com/#!/zee.monodee
**Follow her on Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/ZeeMonodee
**Email her at this addy (she loves to talk…prolly too much,
even!) zeemonodee@gmail.com
Zee is giving away Silver and Amber bracelet and earring to one lucky person that enters the rafflecopter giveaway.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Guest Post: K. Abernathy

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Title:   Can You Action Past Your Devil’s Advocate?
Author:   K. “Kimbe” Abernathy
Published:  January 1st, 2015
Publisher:   Xlibris
Genre:  Non-fiction Entrepreneurial Empowerment
Synopsis:
Are you an existing, new or upcoming entrepreneur? This book is easy to read and relaxed to understand. GREAT book to assist in expounding ones vision to put all into ACTION through 12 elaborated tips in what it takes to move forward. An undeniable source of motivation bursts with inspiration for the entrepreneurial mind. If you can get through this book you can get through entrepreneurism. From the desk of an ordinary member of society, “Can You Action Past Your Devil’s Advocate?”
This book provokes to
Rise up to the challenge and overcome
Leads you to fight for your life and your dreams
Points you to reach your top at
Full potential in full force.
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodReads

Excerpt from Can You Action Past Your Devil’s Advocate? by K. Abernathy:
“………The big question is how to get ahead as an entrepreneur, as a goal getter from what you typically see and what you’re used to as an commonplace individual. Well, I’m a commonplace individual, in a taboo career and I’M DOING IT! In the words of Maya Angelou “Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it” You want to sustain in life by creating opportunities BIG OR SMALL. Not waiting for a yes and still moving forward.
“Step forward into growth or back into safety”
-Abraham Maslow
Psychologist
It is important to be able and willing to action regardless of all trauma, all the No’s, and non-supporters one could headache and pain on. This book is for the average wanting to reach their next level. The ones who feel they aren’t smart enough; the ones who have BIG ideas with no direction; the ones who have vision with no support; the ones who have degrees and are at a dead end; the ones in school just going through the motions; the ones who have talent and feel their voice and willpower is not strong enough; the ones simply wanting more. This book is written by one who understands the emotion and feelings of the one striving for more. Most likely if you are striving, wanting more, you’re an entrepreneur!
What is an entrepreneur again?
Entrepreneurs are innovators, visionaries—generators of new ideas turning into coinage; that’s right—income, revenue, dough, bread, money. Smile for me! This body of work comes from a place of rising from rejection, talents that have been overlooked and misunderstood by second-rate superiors, peers, family, companions and—funny enough—sometimes your cheerers and admirers. Early on, I wanted more, and I knew how to get more through ways that weren’t truly applauded by the usual thinker, by the play-it-safe thinker. I also had yet to learn and perfect my approach; quickly I learned approach is everything!
Through those times I became boundless at amplification and clarifying myself not through ideas, not through words, but through action and being able to positively relate to other individuals like myself. Because of rejection and wanting more I learned to create my opportunities, prospects, and big breaks. My success stories really started to take strides when I stopped looking for others to give me a chance and started creating my own chances. These are the traits of an entrepreneur. This book comes from empathy for life’s spins. Taking those spins and putting them on a pedestal to be used as a growth tool versus a crutch tool. It is significant that you know that you have the ability to create your own kind of success. This book is essential maintenance to cheer on and coach yourself to your own successes to be able to take a talent, skill, passion, desire, product, and or business and turn it to prize. The entrepreneurial prize is the gumption and follow-through to negotiate compensation, propose benchmarks for company positions, generate buzz for a brand, insert yourself into anyone’s business, take over an existing business, open a start-up business with non-existing to nominal budgets. Turn NO into YES. Turn talents into reward. Turn determination into incentive, customizing your own plans within one’s Master Plan……………….
Can you action past your devil’s advocate?
“At the end of the day, let there be no excuses, no explanations, no regrets.”
-Steve Maraboli
Entrepreneur
Jam packed with success tips, famous quotes, iconic successful leaders, mentors & glossary. Let’s get this body of work read so we can move on to excellence, creating our own success stories.
Let’s kick it off with this quote
“If you are always trying to be normal you will never know how amazing you can be.”
― Maya Angelou Poet
Ready! TIP #1 GAUGE Desire”

 

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About the Author:
K. Abernathy better known as Kimbe`, Kentucky native, now California saturated since the 90’s. Kimbe` an entrepreneur, business owner, director, educator, and deal sealer, currently serving as CEO of a small personal appearance company and Director of youth programs sponsored by regional school districts.
Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
  • An audiobook copy of Can You Action Past Your Devil’s Advocate?
Giveaway is International.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Question For Full-Time Authors: When Do You Write?

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snoopy

I’ve noticed lately I write the bulk of my words (2,000 daily words is always my goal five days a week) later in the afternoon or right before dinner time. 

I used to get up and have the coffee going and get my first words in by 9am, but lately I find myself checking e-mails and doing blog posts and something for Arm Cast Podcast (interviews or putting episodes together)…

I find I write more and write better after I’ve made something for lunch, but feel like I wasted the day even if I got my 2,000 words in. 

If you’re a part-time author and especially one with a day job, I understand your time is limited to when you can write. I get it. I was there with you up until about four years ago when I became a full-time author able to pay my bills. 

But what about the other full-time authors? When do you write? When do you take time for promotion, e-mails, interviews, etc. as well?

I’d really like to know!

Armand Rosamilia

Guest Post: Melissa J. Cunningham

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Title:  The Elementalist
Series:  The Ransomed Souls Series #2
Author:  Melissa J. Cunningham
Published:  March 3rd, 2015
Publisher:  Clean Teen Publishing
Genre:  YA paranormal romance
Content Warning:  Violence and minor language
Recommended Age:  14+
Synopsis:  Deceased Alisa Callahan thinks nothing could be worse than watching the boy she loves move on in his life without her… until she is ripped from her less-than-peaceful existence in Elysium to be trapped… in someone’s else’s body.
Seventeen-year-old Claire Balister wants only one thing. To master the art of Elementalism. To accomplish this, she must learn to control a damned soul. Her old classmate and suicide victim, Alisa Callahan, is the perfect candidate. But when the spell goes wrong, Claire finds herself in the worst possible situation… sharing her body with an unwanted guest.
Everything swirls out of control when Alisa learns the terrifying truth about her entrapment. Her only hope rests with a boy who can’t remember her, his past, or more importantly, who he really is…
One of the bad guys.
Excerpt from The Elementalist by Melissa J. Cunningham:
She cursed under her breath. It could only be one person, she chose to ignore him, but the banging continued. She glanced at the clock. Five minutes left. She had time to quickly tell Jamie to leave.
Claire hurried across the hall and into her room. Unlatching the window she let it swing open. “Jamie, I can’t talk right now.” She tried to shut the window, but he blocked her efforts with his arm.
“Wait. You don’t even know why I’m here.”
“It doesn’t matter. You have to go.” She pushed on the window harder, but instead of backing away like he would have in the past, Jamie climbed inside. He stood in her room as she stared him down, her jaw clenching.
“I don’t have time for this!” she yelled, and ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
Three minutes were left on the timer.
“Are you okay?” Jamie asked from the other side of the door.
“Damn it, Jamie. I need you to go away!”
“Are you sick?”
“Argg!” She refused to explain. It was none of his business. Why wouldn’t he just leave? She could hear him on the other side, his feet shuffling.
“I’ll just wait in your room then. I want to tell you something important.”
“Just go home!” she yelled, counting down the seconds. Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…
“I saw that guy come over here. I saw him come into your house, Claire. I have a right to know why he’s here. I know he’s not here for your mom. I saw her leave.”
Claire gritted her teeth, refusing to be baited by his jealousy. He was watching her house now? She’d known he would be like this if they got too serious, and now she regretted their budding romance.
“After the other night, I have the right to know if you like him. I mean—”
“Oh my gosh, Jamie!” she screeched. “I don’t. Have. Time!” Fourteen, thirteen, twelve.
Jamie’s fist banged against the door in frustration, and Claire jumped, startled, her heart racing from more than just this intrusion and the timer flew from her fingers into the bathwater with Brecken. Face up, it continued to count down, even under the water. Five, four, three.
“Is he in there with you? Oh hell, Claire. Please tell me he’s not in there with you.” The defeat in Jamie’s voice was almost her undoing. She was already two seconds over the limit.
With shaking hands, she grabbed Brecken by his T-shirt and tried to pull him up, but he was much heavier than she’d anticipated, due either to dead weight or the water in his clothes, maybe both, and he fell back under the water causing waves to spill over the side of the tub and drench her shoes.
She screamed in fright, because the spell only protected him for exactly ten minutes.
“Claire? What’s going on? What happened? Water just came under the door!” Jamie pounded on the other side, his hammering like thunder in her ears, her complementing shrieks producing the perfect storm.
Grabbing Brecken behind the head, she sat him up in the tub, but he was slippery and hard to hold. His head lolled forward and water spilled from his mouth and nose. “Brecken! Wake up!” she screamed, trying to slap him to awareness, but the only thing her struggles did was make him slip out of her grasp and back under the water.
“Jamie!” she screeched. “Help me!”
The door burst open one second later.
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About the Author:


Melissa J. Cunningham began writing five years ago when she decided, out of the blue, to enter a community writing contest and won first place. From that moment on she had a new love: Writing. Melissa is a member of the League of Utah Writers. Her past publication experience includes a recurring opinion column called Writing Reality, for her local newspaper: The Leader
Melissa’s first novel: Reluctant Guardian, was accepted for publication through Clean Teen Publishing in August 2013.
When Melissa is not writing you can find her spending time with her family and her horses, cats, dogs and chickens or reading. Melissa is also a local music teacher.

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Clean Teen Publishing Links:

Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
  • A bookmark swag pack and winner’s choice of any Clean Teen Publishing eBook.
Giveaway is International.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Guest Post: Raven McAllan

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Hong Kong Heat by +Raven McAllan
Erotic Romance, Contemporary

 

Debra Scotburn never thought of herself as a cougar, until
she fell in lust at first sight with a much younger man.
Daniel Van Meister, a trouble-shooter for the Simply Five
Star Hotel chain doesn’t do commitment, until the older, curvy, vivacious
brunette robs him off his ability to control a certain body part.
Unable to keep their hands off each other, they embark on a passion-filled
holiday fling.
Surely that is all it can ever be? Daniel’s work takes him
all around the world at a moment’s notice, and Debra is on the last leg of her
middle-aged-crisis induced gap year.

 

When misunderstandings tear them apart, can they both admit
their love and find the trust needed to make this more than just a fling?

Available for early download via Totally Bound

https://www.totallybound.com/hong-kong-heat

Out on general release on eBook and Print: March 27th

 

 

 

(2 Excerpts. Pick one for your blog)

Excerpt 1 (PG 13)

“You’re
trespassing. You shouldn’t be up here at night.”
She
stared up at him and grinned. The moon appeared from behind a cloud and his
pulse jumped like a flea in a circus. It was her. His mystery lady.
“So
I am, or should that be am not?” She swirled her arms and the moonlight caught
the ripples and sent tiny moonbeams dancing over the surface of the pool. “Which
means unless you’re the night watchman…?” Her voice trailed off mid sentence,
on a querying note.
Braam
shook his head.
“Then
neither should you. So why don’t you join me? Or is jogging the only exercise
you do?” She tilted her head to one side and swam in lazy circles around the
island in the centre of the pool.
Does she know there’s innuendo in that
statement?
“Come
on, live dangerously. You know you shouldn’t swim alone at night.” She laughed.
“So in actual fact, we’ll be helping each other.”
Why not? Braam pushed the sides of his trousers apart and kicked them off his
legs with scant care to creases. The suit needed to go to the cleaners anyway.
An over anxious sous chef had made sure of that when Braam had checked the
buffet earlier.
He
left his boxers on—after all there was such a thing as over-familiarity—and
dived in.
The
water closed over his head and he pushed to the surface. It was like swimming
in a Jacuzzi without the bubbles. The warmth surrounded him as he swam towards
the woman leaning against the edge of the pool with her arms stretched out to
hold her in place.
“So,
hello, Ms Intruder. We meet again.” He trod water and moved his arms and hands
to stay in front of her and not move into her personal space. As much as he’d have
liked to crowd her, demand who she was and why she was there, he knew better.
“It
seems we do. Nothing more mysterious than the ways of the world, eh?” She
chuckled and splashed water with her legs. “Is this where I say fancy meeting
you here? Or we must quit meeting like this, people will talk?”
There
was no doubt about that, especially if the night manager turned the security
cameras on. Braam angled his body then swam around the island so that if that
did happen, his face wouldn’t be seen. There was one spot where the cameras
didn’t reach, but was visible to the lifeguards when they were on duty. As he
hoped, the lady swam after him, until they reached what he termed the safe area.
“Are
we playing tag?” Her voice was husky and it lifted his libido and his cock by
several notches. In fact, his cock was pressing against his boxers and even the
water couldn’t   come to his aid so he didn’t get harder by the
minute. This woman intrigued him.
“I
can think of better things to play.”
Her
eyes widened and the laugh she gave went straight to his dick and hinted at all
things erotic.
“Such
as? Ludo? Scrabble, or, I know, Hotel?” She ran her tongue around her lips in
an unconscious invitation to plunder and Braam was hard pressed not to groan.
“You
show me yours and I’ll show you mine…” Braam paused. “Hotel, I mean, what else?”
She
giggled. It wasn’t the silly sound a young girl would make, but a deep, sexy
noise. “How about Kiss Chase?”
Excerpt 2(Adult)
In
one swift movement the lady pushed off the side, kissed him hard on the lips
and turned to swim away. He was too fast for her. Braam held her by the
shoulders, tread water and kissed her back.
She
groaned deep into his mouth and let her tongue swirl with his. Her body floated
next to his and her breasts teased his chest. The thin lace that covered her
was no barrier to hide how her nipples stood out. Braam slid one leg between
hers and moved one hand to hold her ass and push her tight against him.
She
wriggled and ground her pussy on his cock. Yet again, the few scraps of lace
she wore were negligible. Even so it took immense control not to rip them away
and have nothing between them. Instead he held her close, let her rub herself
on him and savoured the moment. Braam swam them backwards a few feet until he
could rest on a ledge a foot or so underwater and sit his lady on his knees
with her legs either side and her pussy open to his cock. It was teasing, tantalising
and downright enjoyable. Judging by the shivers and mewls she made as he
nibbled her ear and scattered kisses over her face and mouth, she agreed. Her
hands played with his nipples.
Until
his cock gave notice that a few more seconds’ play and they’d need to clean the
pool out. He was so close to coming it hurt.
Braam
pulled back and she moaned in protest.
“Honey,
I’m so close to coming it’s painful. We need to get out and find somewhere more
suitable.” He towed her to the roman steps at one end of the pool and glanced
around the area. Not even a sunbed had been left out.
His
lady looked dazed and her eyes were misty.
“Eh?”
“We
can’t come in the pool. Well, I can’t. We need to… Holy hell and fuck.”
She
sat up, half out of the water, and rubbed her face. “That sounds rude and hold
on, we need to fuck? Who says?”
“Well,
you didn’t say we didn’t a few minutes ago,” Braam said. “But we need condoms.
I don’t suppose you have one with you?”
“Con…
Argh, shit and fuck. No, strangely I don’t. They’re not something I feel I need
when I go for a walk at midnight.” She sounded horrified. “Even if it does
include an illicit swim. You?”
He
shook his head. “Sadly no. I mean where would I carry it?
She
got out of the pool and looked around her. “Apart from that, I don’t make a
habit of screwing with strangers, even with a condom. Where’s a towel? Blame it
on the moon, oh, I don’t know, temporary insanity or jet lag or something. Pure
fucking stupidity. Look, if you try anything, I’ve got a black belt in karate.
So, towels?”
“Locked
away. Along with sunbeds, robes and all things needed to fuck.” He paused. “Or
dry off.”
She
shut her eyes and sighed. “Figures. Oh, Lord, what have I done?”
“Nothing
yet, and in the future? Up to you, but let me say, I seem to have been
inflicted by the same bout of insanity if that’s any consolation.”
“It
isn’t. I guess I’ll have to do the walk of shame in a dress sticking to my wet
body.”
“Or
we could make love and dry off that way?” Braam suggested. He could have bitten his tongue out. Do I have a death wish? When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?
“Or
not. Sorry. But I don’t even know your name. Isn’t it at least polite to be
introduced or something?”
She
shivered and Braam stood up and left the pool to grab his shirt.
“Here,
use this to dry off.” He handed her the shirt and walked to the other side of
the pool where his jacket and trousers were. “My name is Abraham,” he said as
he used his jacket to soak up the bulk of the moisture on him. It looked like
even the dry cleaners wouldn’t save it. “Braam to my friends.”
There
was silence from the other side of the pool.
“And
you?”

 

His
answer was to hear the faint noise of the lift descending.

 

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving
it.
Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish
forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.
Our kids have grown up and flown the nest,
but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so
to speak.
I write in my study, which overlooks the
garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild
life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that
indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs
without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate
under the beds. Not to be thought of.
Being able to do what I love, and knowing
people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.
https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan            (author
page)

 

 

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