Julie Elizabeth Powell's Blog, page 18
December 4, 2017
BOB AND THE POLKA-DOT HIGHWAY by R. Murphy
BOB AND THE POLKA-DOT HIGHWAY
Book 3 of The Bob Books
by R. Murphy
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Poor Roz…once again stuck on the horns of a dilemma. Does she accept the great offer for a job that’s hundreds of miles from Crooked Lake? Or does she pick David, the great guy who grows grapes half a mile from her house? And either way—assuming our crabby woman-of-a-certain-age manages to make a decision—what about her ghost, Bob?
Granted, Bob and Roz have never had a … ummmm… ‘traditional’ relationship but still, martini-loving ghosts don’t toddle along every day of the week. What happens to the wit, the sparkle, the laughter?
So many questions…(sigh).
Join Roz, David—and Bob—as they spend a beautiful, but confusing, summer on Crooked Lake. And oh, by the way, watch out for drips…
My ghostly guest, Bob, swirled his drink while the late afternoon sun streamed across the kitchen, lighting the martinis on the table with an otherworldly glow.
Outside the kitchen’s picture window, Crooked Lake nestled into dusk. Even though it was only early May, a determined fly fisherman drifted in the center of the lake, casting for dusk-feeding trout. Gentle waves splashed against the rock wall I’d struggled to build only a couple of months before. Enough water had drained off after the spring floods that I once again had an actual beach and I planned to spend the summer shoveling shale to enhance and deepen it.
I glanced at Bob, my ghostly companion of many months, as he sipped his drink. I’d gotten to the point where Bob didn’t intimidate or scare me at all. In fact, if it came to being crabby, unpleasant, and maybe even a little scary, I had him beaten by a mile. (I’m not proud of this, mind you. But I do try to call a spade a spade. It’s one way to simplify what seems to have become an awfully complicated life.)
Despite the small spare tire Bob sported around his middle and hair that, in the right light, might be characterized by some as thinning, Bob prided himself on being a suave and debonair ghostly figure. He had nothing but disdain for those immature spectral bullies who throw furniture around and make their hauntee’s lives miserable. I don’t think, now that I focus on it, that I’ve ever even heard Bob raise his voice. (He would not be able to say the same about me, I’m afraid. Not that I have anger management issues. I mostly have crabby management issues.)
Lately Bob has spent his time wandering around the house in a gentle alcoholic fog, babbling about whatever topic he’s fixated on that day. Sometimes it’s the value of 5000 hedgehogs; other days, he’ll get obsessed with his bird phobia or government conspiracies to wear out shoes, or he’ll fret about wearing a white suit. I’ve become used to it. In our early days, we’d only get together at dinnertime. Now that David’s not spending any time at my house, Bob stops by much (MUCH!!!) more often.
Although the soul of ghostly gentility himself, Bob tends to hang out with what I might diplomatically call a challenging sort of crowd, the Algonquin Round Table in Manhattan. I’d visited his friends at The Algonquin hotel a couple of times and the word ‘surreal’ pops into my mind every time I try to describe the experience. Fortunately, though, his ghostly buddies hadn’t found their way from midtown Manhattan out to my isolated lake house in western New York. I planned to keep it that way.
Bob at the Lake
What would happen if Roz, a crabby woman of a certain age, moved to the wintry shores of a New York lake—and got a ghost? And not just any ghost, mind you. Bob’s a ghost from 1920’s Manhattan, full of quips and over fond of his martinis, who swans around in a silk smoking jacket and makes Roz’s life very . . . well, let’s just say ‘complicated.’
Especially after Roz meets David, the good-looking grape grower who lives up the hill. Join Roz, David—and Bob—as they navigate blizzards, cookie mazes, holiday shopping sprees, and the occasional power outage. (You know, all of those delightful challenges of a good, old-fashioned Northern winter . . .)
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Bob at the Plaza
Bob, our favorite martini-loving ghost, has vanished. Now Roz faces a miserable snowbound Crooked Lake winter alone. Well, almost alone. Thank goodness for David, the practical, kind grape grower who lives up the hill.
What a winter it is! Record-breaking snows followed months later by record-setting rains. Ah, the joys of living on a lake shore when the spring floods arrive.
High water, anyone?
Undeterred by mice, sociopathic relatives, Carnegie Hall disasters, and spring floods, Roz searches for her MIA ghost. In the process she goes toe-to-toe with the hyper-verbal crowd at the Algonquin Round Table. Can Roz best smarty-pants Dorothy Parker in a game of wits? Will Harpo Marx finally speak out and help Bob return to Crooked Lake?
For the answers to these and many other spirited questions, read BOB AT THE PLAZA!
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Roz Murphy is the pseudonym of a long-time Finger Lakes resident who lives with ghosts and doesn’t want to confirm in her neighbors’ minds how nutty she really is. (They already have their suspicions.) After decades of writing in Manhattan and throughout the country, Roz settled on the shores of New York’s Keuka Lake, some of the most beautiful country ever created. She’s an ardent fan of the Finger Lakes wine industry, especially the local dry Rieslings.
December 2, 2017
RED STILETTO STRATEGY by Hunter S. Jones
RED STILETTO STRATEGY
by Hunter S. Jones
Genre: Women's Historical Fiction (Espionage Short Story)
Born to an alcoholic, single mother in Texas, Luckie Stratton learns from a young age to keep her distance, avoiding getting close to anyone. She moves to LA as a young film actress, becomes enchanted by a swarthy English gentleman and flies to London in 1940 to join his secret British spy elites. The seductive blonde becomes an undercover assassin. Armed with her charm, a switchblade and a Derringer, this femme fatale never fails her mission. Disguised as an anxious wife waiting for her British ‘husband’ to return from battle proves to be irresistible bait to Nazi covert operatives.
All's fair in love and war.
Luckie Stratton looked across her right shoulder into the mirror, then reached down and straightened her left stocking until the seam ran up her leg with the precision of a surgical knife. The room was dimly lit, and she checked her purse for the small Derringer pistol and the switchblade stiletto. Scraping the bottom of a lipstick tube, she applied the last of the Regimental Red she had brought from Los Angeles. She slipped her feet into her best heels and clicked off the table lamp. Smoothing her hair, she walked outside the apartment door, looking both ways before locking it.
Tonight, she had a date with destiny.
Dr. Smithers had been her mark for the last few months. Making her way into the misty haze of the London night, Luckie Stratton knew she had a mission to complete. Hamish had sent her a coded message yesterday saying that the German spy—a double agent—would be at the USO where Joey’s band played. She was to kill him by any means necessary. It was a job she had completed successfully many times, and what had earned her the nickname Luckie.
She was born in Red River, Texas; her mother had had a weekend fling with a doughboy she met in Dallas the weekend the First War ended. The boy left, her mother discovered she was pregnant two months later, and eventually moved to L.A. with the little girl. Her mother dreamt of being an actress but only became successful at becoming an alcoholic. Eventually, the young girl took on acting jobs to support her mother and herself. Fortunately for her, she learned early that if you didn’t become too attached to someone, you wouldn’t feel abandoned when they were no longer in your life. By the time she was eighteen, she knew she had a way with men; finding companionship with producers and businessmen was much more lucrative than being a bit player in movies. With her long legs and sultry voice, men were hooked once they met her. When she dyed her hair platinum blonde, the world was hers for the taking.
Then, war broke out in Europe and everything changed.
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Hunter S. Jones publishes historical works and fiction independently as well as through traditional platforms. She is a member of the American Historical Association, Royal Historical Society, Organization of American Historians, Society of Authors, Historian: American Historical Association, Dangerous Women Project, Society of Civil War Historians, Atlanta Historical Society, War Historians (US), Historical Writers Association, Historical Novel Society, English Historical Fiction Authors, Atlanta Writers Club, and Rivendell Writers Colony. Originally from Tennessee, she now lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her Scottish born husband.
WILD WHISPERS by Ryan Jo Summers
WILD WHISPERS
by Ryan Jo Summers
Genre: Romantic Mystical Mystery with horse racing element
Set against the exciting backdrop in the chase for the Triple Crown and filled with mystical surprises. Season is not a witch, but she can make a horse run and Ty’s heart race.
Season Moriarty is part fey and part druid. She can see the future and alter it. She welds control over the natural elements of earth, wind, fire, and water as well as manipulating life and death. She is an accomplished racehorse trainer, able to get any horse to run like the wind. Now Season has landed the dream job that will test all of her skills and abilities.
Ty Masters runs his horse racing business with an iron fist. No one dares to question him. He hires Season based on her reputation. Then they meet. Immediately, she questions him, challenges him, infuriates him, intrigues him, captivates him, and even intimidates him. Then she spellbinds him. But can she make a Triple Crown winner out of his willful colt?
Mysterious threats to Ty’s racehorses bring him and Season together in a race against the clock. As the stakes for the Triple Crown rise, and the mystery of who wants to destroy Ty deepens, so does the undeniable interest and fiery sparks between them.
The house was empty, a few lamps lit along the hallways. Ty dropped his coat in the foyer, ignoring the hook on the wall, wordlessly heading for the kitchen, his back straight and tension radiating from him like steam from a radiator.
Season quietly pulled out two coffee mugs and reheated leftover coffee. Pouring it, she tried to think how best to explain. Clearly, he was still thinking the worse and after what he had just witnessed, she couldn’t blame him. Would he even go so far as to fire her for what he witnessed? She kind of doubted it. But if he did not particularly trust her before, this wasn’t going to help. Okay, here goes nothing.
Setting the mugs on the table, she sat down opposite him, hair behind her, arms folded in front of her. Ty cradled the warm mug in his palms, steam rising from the top, the fragrant scent filling the air between them. He eyed her warily. Waiting. She searched for the best answer.
“Are you a witch?” he finally asked, breaking the ice.
“No, again.” she said. “I’m more of a druid.”
He blinked. “A who?”
“Druid. An ancient Celtic religion. I'm kind of like a fae or faerie.”
He shook his head. “What?”
She sighed. She really was terrible at these explanations. Another good reason not to tell anyone about her skills. “Okay, I inherited it from my folks, who inherited it from their folks and so on down their respective lines. Mom was a seer, she could see into the future, she'd have images or visions. Like a fae. And Dad communicated with animals and other things. It was almost magical how he could know what they were thinking or feeling. It sure helped his and Granddaddy's successes as trainers. They were druids in that they could give life. Just like you saw now.” She gave him with a shrug. “So I inherited the Sight from my mom and the Gift from my Dad. Lucky me,” she finished with a lop-sided smile.
He never moved or blinked. He just stared at her, hands curled around the mug, not drinking, as if it offered some protection between him and her. “So you aren’t a witch?” he finally asked.
Shaking her head, she stilled a laugh at the comparison. It was so typical she supposed. “No. Witches are more into black arts and stuff, learning their craft from anywhere. Faes and druids inherit it from their family, learning how to hone it from their parents. Plus I can't use my Gifts for personal gain. Only for good services.” She gave him another tentative smile. “Otherwise, if I were a witch, I would have turned you into a toad last night.”
That made him blink. “Pardon me?”
“When you broke into the bathroom and tried that little stunt of yours, I really wanted to turn you into a toad. But I decided not to. A witch probably would have anyway.”
He shook his head, baffled. “Guess I’m glad for that,” he said slowly. “Why didn’t you ... er ... do that?”
She shrugged, amused at his faltering question. “Misuse of the Gift. Unpardonable sin.” She grinned.
“Why? Would thunderbolts from heaven strike you dead if you had?”
“No.” She laughed outright at his suggestion. “No, it's just I learned it's not acceptable to do that kind of stuff. No real harm would come to me, but I know it's not right.”
“Again, glad to know that. I think,” he said, uncurling his hands from the mug and pushing it away. “So I thank you that I’m not a toad now. Could you warn me if you ever decided to do that? Turn me into something?” He grimaced at the request.
“Sure, what do you prefer? A toad or maybe a mammal?” she asked lightly.
“I prefer to be a man.” He jabbed a finger to his chest. “This man. Me.”
“Oh, okay. I'll keep that in mind.”
He stared at her, questions burning in his eyes. “So what else can you do?
Other than turn men into toads and bring dead foals to life?” He paused, inhaling a sharp breath. “You made that foal come out, didn’t you?” He paled at her silent nod, swallowing hard. “What else can you do?”
“Oh, lots of stuff.” Thinking, she pushed her mug away and started listing items on her fingers. “I am attuned to nature so I’m one with the animals. How do you really think I won the mastiffs over so easily? And Sky Hunter? With the Sight of the fae, I can sometimes get visions of things about to happen or images of things that are happening now. Even from a distance. It's kind of cool, actually.
“And with the Gift of the druids, I can cure, heal, and weld powers over the elements and nature. I can make the sun shine for a little while or maybe work up a small thunderstorm. Light a campfire with two snaps of the fingers,” she added, winking, snapping two fingers. A flame sparked to life from her fingertips.
Ty blinked, astonished. “So you can see Sky Hunter winning the Triple Crown? Is that how you are so sure he can? Or will you just snap your fingers and make him win? Or burst into flames?”
“No, I can't just make him win. I can only train him to run and win like any other trainer and horse. But I sense he has the potential to go that far. The day he jumped the fence he told me he was ready for an all-out run. I sensed there was no danger and saw no danger ahead so I let him go.”
“Uh huh.” He frowned at her words. Casting his eyes around the room he searched for answers, as if they were written on the walls. Finding none, he returned his gaze to Season. “So now what?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, finally taking a sip of the tepid coffee, then pushing it away with a grimace.
“Where do we go from here?”
“Where do you want to go?”
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Ryan Jo Summers is a North Carolina writer who pens romances with a twist. They may contain any number of elements: Christian, humor, mystery, paranormal, sweet, shape-shifting, or time travel. Her dad is a songwriter and his aunt wrote poetry so writing must be in the family genes.
She makes her home in a century-old mountain cottage, with a menagerie of adopted pets. In her spare time, she likes to gather with family and friends, paint ceramics or canvas, potter in the yard, bird-watching, or read, play chess, Mahjongg or work word-find puzzles. She might take her dog and head deep into the forests and rivers near her home to plot the next big scene or story. Like her dad's aunt, she writes poetry as a means to cope with life's pains.
She collects lighthouses, shells, driftwood, and anything to remind her of the shore.
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December 1, 2017
STORM WARNINGS by Marissa Storm
STORM WARNINGS
Storm of Love series Book 1
by Marissa Storm
Liz was an ordinary housewife and mother, with secrets in her past. When trauma hits her family, her past comes home and she is face to face with the love of her life that she thought she had lost forever. Does Liz dare to tell Tom he is her child's father? Did she dare tell her daughter?
Tom had no idea he had a daughter. He is completely stunned to learn the whole truth that tore the two of them apart so many years ago. Even though he had moved on, he never forgot Liz or the love they shared. Their love is rekindled against all odds. But will fate be kind this time?
Tammy, Tom's wife, was killed in an earthquake; or was she? After over a year passes, someone claiming to be Tammy finds Tom online. Could this really be Tammy?
I finally realized it was emergency flashers on a car. Now the question was, Where exactly were those flashers? Was the car sitting off on the shoulder or on the road? I couldn’t see much myself.
Mike slowed down as we approached the vehicle. When we got closer, I saw the driver, a dark-haired man, maybe in his thirties, slumped over the steering wheel. A tall slender lady with sandy blonde hair in her late twenties or early thirties jumped out of the passenger side.
“Help him, please!” She yelled, as she sunk to the ground, sobbing.
Thank God, the kids were asleep. They would have been scared to death at that moment.
Mike parked the car and hopped out to see how he could help. He had no idea what was going on. He walked over to the lady on the ground and talked to her first, then went to check on the man who lay slumped over. Mike took his pulse and lifted his head. A quick shake let me know the man was dead.
When he pulled his hand back, I could see blood. He hurried to the back of the van and opened it. I watched as he wiped his hands on a towel and threw it into the car the dead man was in. Then Mike went to talk to the lady again, and I saw him make a call.
Mike hopped back into the van and we left. Mike drove faster than before, and I had to ask, “Why didn’t we wait till someone came for the lady?” Mike looked in the rear-view mirror to make sure the kids were sleeping. They were still out like a light.
“Liz, that man’s wife said he just got sick, pulled off the road, and died. I called someone for her, but before I left she was getting sick too. She had blood running out of her nose and she was in a great deal of pain. I could smell a strange odor in the air, and I had to get you all away from there immediately! I’m afraid it could be something to do with that chemical bomb that they talked about on the news.”
Mike was scared. And since he never gets scared, I knew it was definitely serious.
Inside, I felt like panicking, but I knew I had to stay strong for my family.
Marissa Storm has a few other published books in circulation today:
Storm Warnings, a fiction love story adventure.
And What Happens to the Children, a book about the price the children pay when the parents split their lives in half.
I now write under a Pen name for personal reasons.
I love to meet with fans and will be making personal appearances in the near future. From NC, enjoys family and friends and the love of God as well as the blessings He brings.
THE DOLAN GIRLS by S.R. Mallery
THE DOLAN GIRLS
by S.R. Mallery
Genre: Western Romance
The Dolan Girls by S. R. Mallery has it all. Set in Nebraska during the 1800s, whorehouse madams, ladies of the night, a schoolmarm, a Pinkerton detective, a Shakespeare-quoting old coot, brutal outlaws, and a horse-wrangler fill out the cast of characters. Added to the mix are colorful descriptions of an 1856 land rush, Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show, Annie Oakley, bank/train robberies, small town local politics, and of course, romance. Two, in fact!
…The two sisters shifted into their usual standoff poses: Cora annoyed, self-righteous, her hands on her hips; Minnie, wiry, know-it-all, breathing hard.
Just then, one of their ladies entered. “Mrs. Cora, Miss Minnie, there’s a problem out on the floor.”
Cora sighed. “What now, Marlena?”
The soiled dove gulped before answering. “One of our customers, the old geezer one, is having a fit. Gettin’ real ornery, too.”
In recognition of a regular happenstance, the two sisters looked at each other and grimaced.
“Need any help?” Minnie asked Cora as she stood up.
“Nope, I have it under control. Thanks, Sis,” Cora replied and headed out the door, Ellie and her homecoming temporarily forgotten.
Out in the main parlor, the girls had already formed a wide circle around old Pete. Corsets, bustles, crinolines, pantaloons, and camisoles intermingled with a whiskey-stained suit, a grimy vest, and mud-caked boots. He was no match for them. As they gleefully shoved and tickled him, his fury rose with each breath, while his face ripened into the color of raw meat. Finally, when he could take it no longer, he sputtered, “She-devils!” which produced gales of laughter.
“Ladies, ladies. Enough. Leave the man alone,” Cora said, placing a concerned arm around the smelly habitué. “There, there, Pete. They meant you no harm.”
“As Mercutio proclaimed in Romeo and Juliet, ...’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ‘tis enough, ‘twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man. All I wanted was a little love, Cora. I swear it!” He sniffled pathetically as the girls giggled.
With a dirty glance aimed at the group’s ringleader, Charity, Cora turned back to Pete. “You did produce some money, right, love?”
He looked down.
“Now, Pete, you know the rules.”
“I just wanted a little love. As Henry David Thoreau said, There is no remedy for love but to love more. He also said…”
“Now, Pete, enough about Thoreau,” she interrupted, gently angling him toward the door. As soon as he left with a snort and an “After all we’ve been through together,” Cora shook her head and turned back to face her employees.
“Ladies, she said, “some women in this town may look down on us, but I do have my standards. Gentility is most important, above all else. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear.”
A few head nods and corset scratching was all she got before Marlena stepped forward. “Ah, Mrs. Cora?”
Placing one hand on her hip, Cora sighed. “Now what?”
“He was full as a tick, that one was. He almost fell down twice.”
Cora squinted her eyes, assessing her new employee. “I don’t care how drunk he was. He, Miss Minnie, and I go way back.”
“But you tossed out a feller from Fanny’s bed just the other night. I reckon he wasn’t half as likkered up as that ol’ coot.”
Cora frowned. “I could tell the man with Fanny was going to be big trouble.”
“Yes, zat one very, very scared me,” Suzette, the resident French girl affirmed. “I zink Mrs. Cora maybe saved Fanny’s life.”
“Trust Mrs. Cora,” Rosie interjected. “She’ll always watch your back, or at least your backside!” There was an explosion of laughter.
“All right, all right. Get a wiggle on, ladies,” Cora continued, her eyes sweeping over them. “I heard a group of cowboys are ridin’ through town, maybe even this afternoon. Now, go, go!”
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1) “At times rollicking, at times poignant, but always authentic, well- researched and a beautifully told story.”
2)“A compelling read, perfect amount of romance, with a wonderful ending. With Mallery's warm writing style, you will be immersed in cast, time, and place.”
3)“S.R. Mallery’s words thunder off the page like a cattle stampede... her sharply written characters demonstrate that truly it was WOMEN who tamed the American West.”
4)“It's a rip-roaring, nail-biting, heart-throbbing ride...my Stetson is off to S.R. Mallery, five stars all the way.”
5)"What a marvellous story... A well-researched book of historical value for this reader--entertaining and very warmly written. Highly recommended.”
6)“Mallery has done it again. THE DOLAN GIRLS leads you on a trip that is sometimes painful and sometimes loving. You are taken from innocence to womanhood. From love to heartbreak... Definitely 5-stars!”
7) “As a history buff, I just loved this whoppin' good tale set in the old west...From the first word to the last, the pages couldn't fly fast enough. Highly recommended!”
8)“S. R. Mallery gives us a colourful view of America’s wild west of the 1800’s... The characters are endearing and the action is fast paced ... Looking forward to more from this talented writer.”
9)“If you're a fan of the old west, strong women, and enjoy a great read, this book is for you. Recommend highly!”
10)“The Dolan Girls is simply a wonderful book. It brings the West alive in a way that is not only historically interesting, but one can't help but become fascinated with how the story is going to play out.”
11) “S.R. Mallery knows how to write historical fiction in a way that hooks the reader..."
12) “I loved The Dolan Girls. It was easy to get interested in from the start. I recommend that anyone wanting a good read of a clean historical western romance give this book a try.”
Let’s face it. S. R. Mallery is as eclectic as her characters. Starting out as a classical/pop singer/composer, she next explored the fast-paced world of advertising as a production artist while she simultaneously dipped her toe into the Zen biosphere as a calligrapher. Having started a family and wanting to work from the home, she moved on to having a long career as an award-winning quilt artist and an ESL/Reading instructor before settling on her true love––writing. Her short stories have been published in descant 2008, Snowy Egret, Transcendent Visions, The Storyteller, and Down In the Dirt. Her quilt articles have appeared in Quilt World and Traditional Quilt Works.
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Let’s face it. S. R. Mallery is as eclectic as her characters. Starting out as a classical/pop singer/composer, she next explored the fast-paced world of advertising as a production artist while she simultaneously dipped her toe into the Zen biosphere as a calligrapher. Having started a family and wanting to work from the home, she moved on to having a long career as an award-winning quilt artist and an ESL/Reading instructor before settling on her true love––writing. Her short stories have been published in descant 2008, Snowy Egret, Transcendent Visions, The Storyteller, and Down In the Dirt. Her quilt articles have appeared in Quilt World and Traditional Quilt Works.
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November 29, 2017
THE HOLIDAY PACKAGE by Leigh Lennon
THE HOLIDAY PACKAGE
A Jake Davis Novella: Part 1
by Leigh Lennon
Genre: Naughty Holiday Romance Novella
Ten days in the Cayman Islands should put a smile on my face but it becomes the reminder of what I lost. It didn't take long for me to come face to face with the sassiest and hardest of women, who may be able to make me forget all I left behind. In that moment, I realize I want her!
Leaning back in her chair; Sasha takes her swimsuit cover off; smirking my way as she lifts her sunglasses to look at me.
“Listen, Jake. I hope you don’t find this too forward and this was the very last thing I had in mind when I came here. But I need fun this holiday season and you look like you could be a hell of a lot of fun. And if I’m not mistaken, you look like you could relax and let loose too.”
Fucking hell, was she about to say what I think was about to come out of her mouth. I’m not a man whore but this woman is something else, in a good way. I only smile at her next words.
“So, by your smile, let’s have some fun together. Ten days here in the Cayman Islands, that is all I can give you. Are you willing to see where tonight can lead and if it leads to your bed,” she wiggles her eye brows at me, “Or mine, are you okay with that? I mean, I sense you've had a constant hard on since I arrived here. I gave you shit for coming to my rescue at the airport but it did mean more than I can say.” She pauses, taking another sip of her beer, “I can be a hard ass. I’m soft, when you get to know me. By the way; you; Mr. Davis, do something to me.” She leans in, giving me a small kiss on my lips then walks to the guest villa, leaving me both hard and breathless.
Publication date is December 8, 2017
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Loss is not foreign to Julia Barnett. To the outside world she is the epitome of the perfect mom. That is, until the doors of her impeccable life are closed and reality hits her square in the face. Once the leading lady in her own epic love story, she can only look back at what used to be. With an absent husband, an intrusive father, a troubled child, and an ex-fiancé that is still tied to her life, it’s no wonder Julia is grasping for air in her chaotic world.
The bruises that Julia lives with are invisible to those closest to her. She lost so much early in life, more than most could survive. Now, she grapples with resentment towards her husband because of all the empty promises he’s made. In the midst of this turmoil, test results reveal an illness she is not sure she will survive.
For Julia, it is not her life that may be cut short that consumes her, but how her family will endure without her there. As everyone rallies around Julia while she fights like hell to live, she learns that family, along with love, comes in many shapes and sizes. It is her family that gives her the strength to fight the biggest battle of her life; one she doesn’t want to lose.
November 28, 2017
MAGICK'S PATHWAY by Lauren Marie
MAGICK'S PATHWAY
The Haller Lake Series, Book 2
by Lauren Marie
Genre: Paranormal Suspense Romance
Kris Bennett-Lake’s world, after a year, isn’t what she’d have thought it would be. She’s married, with a three month old baby and magical powers wanted by evil demons, a ghost and an Oracle.
Garda, the puppet master, has watched Kris for the right time to take her abilities and turn her to the dark side. He has a plan for her and brings his son, Guillermo, into the mix.
Kris is thrown into a maelstrom, from being chained in a dungeon for eight years to making an illegal poison, White Dagger and after a vision that matches her with Guillermo is desperate to keep her husband, Roman, and son, Otter, safe. Will she accept her power and take her place in fighting evil or will she turn her back on the magick’s and take another offer sending her to a different realm and another life? Will she be strong enough to save her family and the world where she exists?
Roman went to the door and opened it. Lorrie smiled up at him. “Hello, Lakeman.”
“Roman, it’s not Lorrie.” Kris moved toward the crib, picked up Otter and held him tight.
“Rochelle?” Roman said and closed the door a little.
“How’d you guess?” she asked.
“You have no aura or light of any kind.”
“Very good, you’re smarter than I thought. Because of your protection spell, I cannot enter. I’m here to give you a warning.” She smiled again, and looked at Kris and the baby. “Cute kid, sorry we missed the birth.” She looked back up at Roman. “Since you saved me from Meshach last year, I believe I owe you. This will make us even.”‘
“I didn’t save you, Rochelle. Kris did all the talking,” Roman corrected her.
“Whatever.”
“Well, what have you to say?” Roman asked.
“There is an evil heading this way,” she stated.
“We’ve been told this from our own sources.”
“It’s Pelonus. He’s very dangerous and will be more difficult to overcome than the last three. He has a multitude of minions and you are being watched. His spies are everywhere.”
KRIS BENNETT is an art consultant and lives by Haller Lake. On an evening after an opening for a new artist, she drinks a glass of Brael Mist wine. The peach chardonnay is tainted with cyanide, other poisons and an evil enchantment spell. It opens her mind to a spiritual world she never believed existed.
ROMAN is a guardian of Haller Lake. He is told by the Lakeman's Oracle he must watch over Kris and keep her safe from an evil interested in her abilities. When she drinks the wine she is able to see Roman and the other lake guardians. His love for Kris comes on quickly and helps her understand the new world she is experiencing.
ABEDNEGO BRAEL is a low level demon who wants Kris body and soul to be possessed by the ghost of his long dead love ROCHELLE. He's done it before, but that body aged and died, releasing Rochelle back into the world. SHADRACH AND MESHACH are Abednego's brother demons who are also after Kris, but for different reasons. They realize she has a great power and if they are able to turn her, they could take the power for their own uses.
When the wine opens Kris's mind, she learns about her own magical powers from her alter ego, ELZABETH, who has long lived deep inside her mind and guided other women in Kris's family, who also had magical abilities.
With the help of the Haller Lake guardians, Kris fights to retain her very soul and her growing powers.
Lauren Marie’s first published series - The Men of Haller Lake - originally came out in 2010. She’s learned so much over the last seven years and it’s been a dream to get the stories re-edited and problems with point of view corrected. With Books to Go Now’s help the dream became a reality with the release of A Demon’s Scheme - Book 1 of the Haller Lake series - in July 2017.
She is also the author of Big Mike-Little, Golden Ribbons - story 4 of the Miss Demeanor Private Detective Agency series, I’m Not What You Think, Love’s Embers - book 1 of the Canon City Series, Love on Ice - book 2 of the Canon City Series, One Touch at Cob’s Bar and Grill - story 3 of the Montana Ranch Series, Love’s Touch - Then and Now, Going to Another Place.
She lives in Western Washington State with four cats, Agamemnon, Tazmania, Jericho and Jasper.
Lauren likes to receive feedback. If you want to send her likes and dislikes, you can go to the contact us page on the web-site laurenmariebooks.com or write to her at themenofhallerlake@hotmail.com. or friend her at facebook.com/laurenmariebooks. She does respond to feedback.
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ANY GIVEN SNOW DAY by Marie Harte
ANY GIVEN SNOW DAY
by Marie Harte
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Ex-NFL star + snarky single mom = a touchdown of a holiday romance
After two Super Bowl rings, MVP status, and retiring from the NFL while still on top, Mitch “Flash” Flashman’s millions should make life at the ripe old age of thirty-five a blessing. Yet he’s restless, rudderless, and can’t tell up from down. Roped into helping his brother coach a bunch of teenagers, Mitch finds himself playing defense against the many women in town wanting his attention. Except for one particular woman who doesn’t seem to like him much. Becca Bragg is mouthy, vulnerable, and sexy, and she captivates Mitch despite himself. But Mitch has no time for a sexy single mom when he’s still trying to figure out who he really is. With the playoffs, a boy’s future, and his own heart on the line, he’ll need to figure out how to pull the ultimate victory—winning Becca’s heart and keeping it. For good.
Mitch stared at a feminine version of Simon Bragg. A few inches shorter than her behemoth son, she had long, dark-brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a frown that would do Simon proud.
A subtle glance and he catalogued her feminine assets. Check, check, and check. A stunner if not for the scowl on her face. Her assistant, the other pretty brunette he’d seen with Simon at the game, just grinned at him before hustling away.
“Hello. Mrs. Bragg?”
“Yes?” Cool and collected.
Funny, but his heart was racing. Mitch had been with supermodels, actresses, professional athletes. Some had possessed the same qualities Rebecca Bragg did, that essence of attraction that sparked something in his brain…and in other places. But Mitch didn’t do married chicks. Ever. Best to remember that.
He cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you about Simon.”
Her frown deepened. “Is he okay? What happened?”
Mitch had debated how to broach the subject. After talking to Deacon, they’d decided Mitch should be the one to talk to her. He still wasn’t sure how they’d come up with that, other than that his brother was a scum-sucking wimp who’d rather face a firing squad than an irate mother.
“As far as I know, Simon is fine. I wanted to talk to you about his attitude though.”
She snorted.
Just like her son.
“And before you say this is somehow about me not understanding him because I’m the new guy, you need to know that Simon has been acting out and is pretty much annoying most of the team.”
She studied him in silence.
He wondered what she saw. Did she see the regular guy who’d rather be running down a field or hiding out in his home, reading history books and watching movies? Or did she see the confident, laughing playboy everyone thought him to be?
“Come with me.” She turned and walked into the back of her teahouse.
He followed her toward the sweet smells coming from a small kitchen. Entranced by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, he took a big sniff. “What are you making?”
“Sticky buns, my version of cinnamon rolls. Hold on.” She took a few steps toward the doorway and shouted, “Nora, can you watch the front? I’m in a meeting.”
Nora laughed and said something he couldn’t make out but apparently Rebecca could.
She flushed and returned, putting the center island between them. He wondered if her husband had a hard time dealing with her moods, then thought the lucky guy probably didn’t much care. A woman who could bake and looked like her? A win-win…until she opened her mouth.
“Well?” She waited.
He just stared.
“What?”
“I’m trying to figure out how to say this without you getting offended. I would have called your husband, but Simon wouldn’t give me his number.”
Something that looked like pain flashed across her face. “My husband is dead. Now what did you want to talk about?”
Wow. Talk about stepping right into it. Might have been nice if the kid had explained his father was no longer alive when Mitch had mentioned the guy. “Sorry. Simon didn’t tell me.”
She sighed. “So what has my son done that brings the ‘Amazing Flash’ to my lowly shop?”
He ignored the heat on his face. “You know, if you’d heard the whole conversation, you might not be so quick to judge.”
“You’re here to talk about Simon?”
Fine. He wouldn’t explain himself to this sexy, stuck-up viper. Wait. Where had sexy come from? Rebecca Bragg was more girl-next-door…with a side of sexy. Damn her full mouth.
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Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte has over 100 books published with more constantly on the way. She’s a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit Marie's website and fall in love.
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November 25, 2017
THE LADY AND MR. JONES by Alyssa Alexander
THE LADY AND MR. JONES
A Spy in the Ton series, Book 4
by Alyssa Alexander
She can never be his…
Born in the rookeries, the hard life is something Jones is all too familiar with. Saved as a young boy, he was trained to be a spy, one of the best--elite, in fact. He now spends his days serving His Majesty in espionage, hunting rogue spies. His latest assignment, though, has him tracking a fellow spy…
Cat Ashdown is a baroness. Nothing is more important than protecting five hundred years of heritage. She knows every detail of every estate that commands the largest income in Britain— yet her father placed her inheritance in trust to her uncle who is forcing her to marry a man she has no desire for. The baroness’s battle against law and convention leads her to Jones and results that are surprising … and possibly unwanted.
“Are we finished under the desk? I would like to stand, please. My legs are aching.”
There was a dry humor to her words, and he wondered if she were amused by their situation.
Certainly the two of them hiding beneath a desk, one after the other in order to avoid discovery, would be comical to witness.
“It’s probably safe.” Etiquette warred with protection in his mind, as he debated allowing her to leave the cubbyhole in advance as a lady should, or leaving before to ensure her safety.
She did not wait for his direction. She solved the dilemma by shifting to her hands and knees amid the swish of linen.
“This is so odd,” the baroness muttered as she crawled from beneath the desk. Her nightshift caught beneath her knees and she wrestled to free the fabric. He was treated to the most delightful pulling and stretching of thin linen over her bottom. “It’s also embarrassing,” she finished.
“I’m finding the view enjoyable.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. It was the most ungentlemanly comment he could make. Surely she would see, with a single statement, that he was nothing but a boy from the streets.
“I beg your pardon?” On her hands and knees, the baroness turned to look over her shoulder at him. She narrowed her eyes, but did not move. That lovely bottom stayed in front of him. Taunting him.
“My apologies, my lady.”
She scooted out from beneath the desk, movements quick and sharp.
“My words were inexcusable.” He did not look anywhere but into her eyes as he crawled from beneath the desk, refusing to allow his gaze to stray to any other part of her anatomy. He hoped it would put her at ease and make him feel less like a clod.
“It was.” But she did not sound panicked or prudish, only drew in a long breath and let it out again. “You should not say such things.”
“No, my lady.” But time mattered, so he unfolded himself to his full standing height, leaving her sitting on the study floor and looking up at him. She hesitated, then began to struggle to her feet.
“Please, allow me.” He spoke softly, holding out a hand and hoping she would not be so disappointed by his lack of finesse as to refuse his offer of assistance.
She stared at his hand with an expression he could not read. He looked down, expecting to see something frightening or strange attached to him, but he saw only his hand, gloveless to ease his search. It was not smooth or elegant as a man of her station’s would be, but wide, with blunt fingers and calluses.
Still, she set her hand in his and let him assist her to stand. Soft and smooth skin moved against his hand with none of the roughness marking his own flesh.
He wondered if she could feel his base birth through his very skin.
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"He went looking for a traitor. He found a wife."
A thrilling, seductive adventure from award-winning author Alyssa Alexander…
After he is betrayed by one of his own, British spy Julian Travers, Earl of Langford, refuses to retire without a fight, vowing to find the traitor. But when the trail leads to his childhood home, Julian is forced to return to a place he swore he’d never see again, and meet a woman who may be his quarry—in more ways than one.
Though she may appear a poor young woman dependant on charity, Grace Hannah’s private life is far more interesting. By night, she finds friendship and freedom as a member of a smuggling ring. But when the handsome Julian arrives, she finds her façade slipping, and she is soon compromised, as well as intrigued.
As she and Julian continue the hunt, Grace finds herself falling in love with the man behind the spy. Yet Julian’s past holds a dark secret. And when he must make a choice between love and espionage, that secret may tear them apart.
Revenge has never been so seductive.
When her husband is killed at Waterloo, Lilias Fairchild takes up his cavalry sword and boldly storms the front, earning herself the nickname Angel of Vengeance. But there is another angel on the battlefield who is just as single-minded, and just as ruthless…
Alastair Whitmore, the Marquess of Angelstone, is a British spy. Code name: Angel. Still haunted by a first love felled by assassins, his mission draws him to Waterloo, where he is captivated by a beautiful and mysterious woman fighting amongst the men—a woman who becomes his most intoxicating memory of war.
Passion has never been so dangerous.
Two years later, Lilias and Angelstone lock eyes in a crowded ballroom and the memory returns in an exhilarating rush. The history they share, and hide from the world, is as impossible to ignore as the heat of their attraction. But it’s that very connection that spells doom for their scandalous affair. When someone from the shadows of their past proves a dire threat to their lives, passion might not be enough to save them.
She was the only code he couldn't break...
Vivienne La Fleur is one of London’s most sought after opera dancers and one of England’s best weapons: the spy known as the Flower. When a French agent pressures her to change allegiance by abducting her sister, Vivienne is forced to seek the help of the only man in London who doesn’t want her.
Maximilian Westwood, retired code breaker, doesn't like surprises or mysteries and the Flower is both. When she sneaks into his study in the middle of the night with a coded message, he’s ready to push her out whatever window she arrived through. Except Maximilian is unable to turn away a woman in trouble. Determined to rescue Vivienne’s sister, they engage in a game of cat and mouse with French spies that requires all of Vivienne’s training and Maximilian’s abilities. Bound together by secrecy, they discover there is more between them than politics and hidden codes, but love has no place among the secrets of espionage...
Despite being a native Michigander, Alyssa Alexander is pretty certain she belongs somewhere sunny. And tropical. Where drinks are served with little paper umbrellas. But until she moves to those white sandy beaches, she survives the cold Michigan winters by penning romance novels that always include a bit of adventure. She lives with her own set of heroes, aka an ever-patient husband who doesn’t mind using a laundry basket for a closet, and a small boy who wears a knight in a shining armor costume for such tasks as scrubbing potatoes.
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A HIGHLAND MOON ENCHANTMENT by Mary Morgan
A HIGHLAND MOON ENCHANTMENT
A Tale from the Order of the Dragon Knights
by Mary Morgan
Genre: Scottish Historical Paranormal Romance
Irish warrior, Desmond O’Quinlan has never surrendered his heart to any woman. He has no wish to have his soul tortured by love. Yet, the moment he locks gazes with Ailsa, his fate is destined for an adventure he never fathomed. He may have battled alongside a Dragon Knight, but his greatest challenge will come from within his own heart.
Ailsa MacDuff, a warrior among her clan, has no desire to have a man chain her to a life of obedience. However, that is before she meets Desmond. The temptation to allow this warrior inside her heart is a risk she dares to take, but one that could lead to a future of emptiness and sorrow.
When betrayal looms from within, the battleground of love is no match for these two warriors. Can the power of a Highland full moon be strong enough to unite or destroy them?
His mind screamed to stay rooted in his chair, but his body betrayed him. Standing, he reached for her hand. “I will escort ye to your chamber.”
She eyed him with curiosity and stood. “Nae. Take me to the north wall. I hear the view of the loch is one that steals the breath from your lungs.”
“Done.” When her fingers slipped into his, Desmond fought the urge to crush her to his chest.
Placing her soft hand in the crook of his arm, he led her quickly out of the hall and up the stairs. Bending to the left, he took her along a corridor and up a narrow circular pathway. The torches flickered as he approached the door leading to the north wall.
A cold draft blew by them, and she shivered. Instantly, regret filled him realizing he had not considered to bring a cloak for her.
Desmond paused by the door. “Ye should not venture out into the biting cold without a cloak.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I simply wish to capture a quick look, not spend the night sleeping out there.”
Shaking his head, he pushed open the massive oak door. Brittle air slapped at his face while they made their way up along the wall.
“’Tis cold,” she muttered, but chuckled softly and hugged his arm. “But ye are warm.”
“We shall not tarry long,” he assured her and placed a warm hand over hers.
“Oh, sweet Goddess. Look at the moon, Desmond. Her light shimmers over the water. I have now witnessed the charm of the loch in sunlight and moonlight. Though our rivers are stunning on their own, they cannae rival this view. As I have told ye, our island is shrouded in mists, so ye cannae see verra far out into the sea.”
Desmond’s focus was not on the moon, but the beauty standing beside him. To take what he dared not possess. He marveled at her delight of the striking scene.
Ailsa turned toward him. “Thank ye, Desmond, truly.”
Her nearness was overpowering, seducing him in a way he had never known. Desmond cupped her chin. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in invitation. Moonlight and lust danced within her eyes. No longer did he battle with his mind and body, and he slowly lowered his head.
And under the silent whisper of a full moon, Desmond captured her soft lips within his own. He could taste her sweetness mixed with the wine, and desire shot through his veins. His hands shook as he placed them securely on her waist. As he deepened the kiss, she placed her hands around his neck. Desmond groaned, crushing her body against him.
Dare to journey with the Dragon Knights of Scotland!
They were an ancient order descended from the great Tuatha De Danann, a tribe from the Goddess Danu. Half human and half fae, each blessed with mystical powers. They were also given holy relics and guardianship over the dragons.
With the dawn of Christianity, the dragons were systematically hunted down and slain leaving only one. The Dragon Knights took her from Ireland to a land across the sea, settling in the Great Glen near Urquhart. The clan was known as the MacKay clan, descendants from the MacAoidh.
Yet, there were those who deemed the Order had too much power, and they tried to possess it for themselves. They were evil and twisted, and their plan succeeded one fateful night. A battle was fought and their sister was killed.
The Clan Mackay is no longer.
The Dragon Knights scattered across the land.
Yet out of the darkness, they will each fight for redemption.
Scottish paranormal romance author, Mary Morgan resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.
Mary's passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn't until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling--writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.
