Julie Elizabeth Powell's Blog, page 76

Review tour for London With A Dare by Angela Ford & Jennifer Conner

LONDON WITH A DARE

Dare To Love Series
(A Kindle Worlds Novella)

AUTHORS: Angela Ford & Jennifer Conner

Official genre of book Contemporary Sports Romance

Chapple Palmer is the captain of one of the top soccer teams in the world, the London Lions. He should get more respect, but due to bad press he has a bad boy reputation in the British tabloids that he can’t seem to shake. In fact, he's even beginning to believe the things they say about him. Chapple knows his playing days are numbered and the last thing he needs is to be stuck babysitting an American billionaire, Ian Dare and his wife, who are there to promote Dare's American football team's exhibition game in London.

Elisha Sheppard is fairly new at being the Dare's scheduling assistant. She knows how important it is to stay professional and detail oriented at every moment. So why is Elisha letting herself be distracted by Chapple Palmer who she can guess is nothing but trouble, not to mention a heart-breaker? Why is she finding it so easy to say yes to his every invitation when her brain is screaming no?

After a disastrous sexual encounter with Elisha, Chapple realizes that he's proved the truth in all the tabloid rumors. Why would Elisha even talk to him? How can he make it up to her? Chapple feels a connection with Elisha he hasn’t felt with a woman in a long time. If she’ll give him another chance, he'll prove to her that he's the lover she's only dreamed of. But can he also trust her with his heart? 

In London with a Dare, their first sexual encounter is disastrous...Chapple wants to prove he can be the lover Elisha’s dreamed about. But this time, Elisha draws up a contract with the hot soccer player...

“There’s much you owe me. You must pay the consequence of your behavior,” she said in a tone that demanded he follow her lead.

“I’m all yours.” He took one step back and met her eyes. He extended his arms to surrender.

“Good.” She smiled. “Now that we have an understanding, you need to cure my ache. Slowly, this time, the way I like it,” she added after a quick intake of air.

“All right.” His low hearty chuckle told her he was game. Elisha lifted her hands to his rock-hard chest. She slightly dug her claws inward. Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips and she raised her eyes to meet his. She felt his hard swallow beneath her hands.

“Any foul play, Mr. Palmer, will result in penalty. Or worse; suspension and it wouldn’t be for one game. Do you agree to abide by my contract and regulations?”

His lips curved into a sexy smile. “Where do I sign?”

“Right here” She reached for his hand and led his finger to graze along her lips. He moved forward. His lips met hers. She remembered the taste of him. He began with a soft tease against her mouth and then opened them with the tip of his tongue. Once his tongue had entry she moved her hands into that sexy mess of hair and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. Her action created a deep moan. She took that as a signed deal....

.... Chapple kissed a trail down her neck, across her shoulders, breast, and then lower. She felt every hot inch of his heated skin, as he slid his hands and tongue over her. Elisha could barely pull in a shaky breath when he cradled himself between her thighs.

“I’m liking these contract negotiations.” He pressed her legs apart and slid a skilled finger over her wetness. “Especially the way I can sign my signature. I’ve signed many autographs and contracts, but never one I’ve enjoyed this much.” He trailed his wet finger in swooping loops over her thigh as if to sign his name.

Chappell is a soccer player in England who is showing Ian and Riley Dare around and Elisha is their activity director. When chapel first sees Elisha he realizes that he wants to get to know her. They do get to know each other and have great chemistry. Will they be able to make it work even though they live away from each other. This was a great quick read. Another great addition to the dare to love kindle world Carly Phillips world. Also these are two more new to me authors. By theresa on January 26, 2016 (Verified Purchase)

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So I started this book, and didn't get too far in to it before deciding I couldn't stand the hero. Like, wanted to strangle him. But Chapple had just enough appeal to make me continue reading to see if he could redeem himself, and I am so glad I didn't give up on him (even when he pulled his BS, you could feel his remorse). Elisha is a fantastic heroine, who doesn't put up with anyone's crap. I love how she didn't give in immediately when Chapple was an @$. The chemistry between the 2 was crazy, and the sex scenes?? Omg. A fantastic read, by 2 new to me authors that I will definitely be checking out more of. By sferguson105 on January 27, 2016 (Verified Purchase)

Amazon  ✯  Goodreads

Angela Ford originates from Nova Scotia…Canada’s Ocean Playground!

Her love of the ocean and sunsets are always in her heart and give her inspiration. Her love for words keeps her turning the page. She is never without a book, whether she’s reading or writing. Now residing in Ontario, Angela works in Finance – numbers by day – words by night. Her dedication to volunteer and involvement with cyber safety seminars gave her an Award of Distinction and sparked the idea for her first book Closure – suspense with a dash of romance that hit the best- selling Action/Adventure and Women’s Fiction. Angela continued this FBI suspense with Forbidden and will deliver the final of the series in 2015. She also writes contemporary romance, sometimes sweet…sometimes spicy and sometimes with a dash of suspense. Unforgettable Kiss delivers a spicy romance with a dash of suspense. Blind Tasting of The Love List series and The Christmas Wreath of the Forever Christmas series are sweet reads. 2015 kicked off with a new Romantic Suspense Surrender.

Between two jobs, being a mom with a home always filled with young adults and rather interesting stories; she is lucky to have one very patient and understanding man. But it is the furry family members who rule the house – a Puggle (Pug/Beagle), a new Chug puppy (Pug/Chihuahua) and two loveable cats. Every possible quiet moment she finds, she treasures and just writes about the moments to come. Angela is an avid reader of romance, a member of the RWA, KOD (Kiss of Death – Suspense Chapter) and Mississauga Writers Group. You can follow her at BTGN www.bookstogonow.com or visit her website/blog Romantic Escapes at http://www.angelafordauthor.com to connect with her on her social network sites. She loves to hear from her readers – they keep her smiling!

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  ✯     ✯     ✯     ✯     ✯  

Jennifer Conner is a best-selling Northwest author who has sixty novels and short stories in ebook, paperback, and audiobooks. She writes in Christmas Romance, Contemporary Romance, Paranormal Romance, Historical Romance, and Erotica. 

She has hit Amazon's top fifty authors ranking and her books have been #1 in sales.

Her novel Shot in the Dark was a finalist in the Emerald City Opener, Cleveland, and Toronto RWA contests. 

Jennifer is an Associate Publisher for the indie e-book publisher, Books to Go Now who resides in the Seattle area. They pride themselves in helping new authors get their foot in the door with well-edited manuscripts, professional covers, and platforms uploads. 

She lives in a hundred year old house that she grew up in. Her semi-small town holds an interesting mix of resident hillbillies, yuppies and Navy Seals. And of course Seattle, only a few miles away, is the birthplace of Starbucks so coffee is always on the check list. She blows glass beads with a blow torch, (which relieves a lot of stress and people don't bother you) and is a huge fan of musicals.

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The Puzzling Brain Of Martha Tidberry

Remember I said that I've only had time to write short stories? Well, here's another!

Cover Contest with Authorsdb - this cover is in the fantasy section, please vote if you can. Thank you.

The Puzzling Brain Of Martha Tidberry - http://authorsdb.com/2016-cover-conte...

The title popped into my head and I had no real idea where it would lead, but, as usual, this character (Martha) led the way...

The Puzzling Brain Of Martha Tidberry

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...



***

Blurb:

Martha Tidberry grew up knowing she was different.

But that difference was far from what anyone could imagine.

Even herself; in the beginning.

What was she to do with that puzzling brain of hers?

Except believe in the impossibility of the possible.

***

It may surprise you, but should definitely help you wonder about where the brain can take you.




I love my imagination, though where it leads I've no idea but will always follow even if my heart bumps a little too fast.



***

While I'm here, let me remind you of Henry Ian Darling...there are three missives available now, all as Kindle editions (Amazon) and paperbacks (Lulu) in addition to audiobooks - the first two ready, number three in the process.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...




https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...



https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...



I've no idea where this series will take me, but Henry will lead me as always.

Thanks to Alan Weyman, Henry is as alive in voice as in print.

Weird: A Henry Ian Darling Oddity: Missive One http://goo.gl/7186dS UK

Weird: A Henry Ian Darling Oddity: Missive One http://goo.gl/Br2n1w USA

Weird: A Henry Ian Darling Oddity: Missive Two UK - http://goo.gl/P9fSVJ

Weird: A Henry Ian Darling Oddity: Missive Two USA - - http://goo.gl/ijf3eL

***


And don't forget, there are promo codes available to listen for FREE for 16 audiobooks.


I can give mobi files to these and all my books for those who ask.

Reading and listening to stories takes you to places beyond the imagination...

New Stories From Maria Savva

Lost and Found by Maria Savva

Kindle release date is 18th March 2016

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-Found-Ma...

Available for pre-order:

UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-Found-Ma...

USA - http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Found-Mari...




Blurb:

Human nature is not neat and predictable.

What makes us betray a loved one?

Can isolation lead to irrational behaviour?

Why do other people’s lives always look more appealing?

Ordinary people living ordinary lives, torn apart by regret, remorse, and deceit. We’re all stumbling through life together. This collection of stories shows you the Lost and Found among us.

***

I've been lucky enough to have a sneak peek at this collection of short stories - I loved them all.

Maria has a knack of unveiling the motives and thoughts of people and their relationships.

A fabulous 'dramatic' read.

Website: Maria Savva Official Site -

http://www.mariasavva.com/site/

Facebook -

https://www.facebook.com/Author-Maria...

Twitter -

https://twitter.com/Maria_Savva

This is a release tour for The Bridges Before Us by Christine Ardigo

THE BRIDGES BEFORE US

Book 3 of the FIX IT OR GET OUT series

AUTHOR:  Christine Ardigo

Stifled by her narcissistic mother, twenty-four-year-old Samantha Hart is tired of putting her life on hold. Determined to find her own happiness, she volunteers within the community. Who’d ever guess her good deeds would land her in trouble? Frustrated and at a loss, Samantha decides a walk on the wild side might do her some good.

Intrigued by the scandalous lifestyle of her dynamic coworker Cara, Samantha attempts to transform herself into Cara’s sinful image. But, as she finds her new path meaningless and hollow, she looks for someone with better judgment to steer her in the right direction, and it’s someone she least expects. Can Samantha trust a man who hates everything about her, or does he see beneath the bad girl façade?

A romance like no other, The Bridges Before Us, teaches us to love ourselves, embrace who we are, and never change for the sake of pleasing others.

Samantha ran out of the house and down the driveway. The distinct sound of the front door pulling away from its frame, followed. 

“You can’t just pick up and leave! What’s wrong with you lately? Where are you going?” Her mother stepped onto the front porch, a frigid aura surrounded her. 

Samantha careened out of the driveway and away from her home. She entered Jericho Turnpike and maneuvered along the congested road, blasting the stereo. Despite the chilly evening, she rolled her window down, and the wind rushed in, whipping her hair onto her face. She thrust her head out, and sang so loud and dramatic, you’d think she was an escaped psych patient. Drivers stopped to look. A few honked their horns or danced along, but most tossed dirty looks. Jerks. 

She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her mother’s words cut through her again. The daily insults and attacks, followed by the deliberate guilt trip for never being good enough, caused her eyes to lose their focus as they grew with tears. How much more could she do for that woman? Was she that much of a failure? 

Twenty minutes and five songs later, her ears frostbitten and her throat dry, she pulled into a small shopping center. Rob Roy’s Deli called to her. Her car smashed into one of the many potholes created from the never-ending blizzards and she rolled the window back up. She flipped the hood on her black sweatshirt over her head, instantly finding security in the armor. 

She slammed the door closed, kicked her car’s tire, and screamed. She refused to shed another tear. Rage tore through her instead. Tired of being nice and people taking advantage of her. Tired of always doing the right thing and being the good girl while other’s walked all over her. She was done. 

After exiting the deli with a big fat tuna fish hero, she yanked her car door open. The sandwich rolled onto the seat, the paper unraveled, and tuna fish scurried out from the suffocating and confining bread. She wanted to escape, too. Maybe hanging out with Cara and Eryn would do her some good. Try ‘sinful and scandalous’ for a while. Nice was getting her nowhere.

Hate your boss? Want to Strangle Your Husband? Be Glad Your Co-Workers Can Keep a Secret. 

Can Cheating on Your Husband Bring Unimaginable Pleasure or Completely Destroy Your World? 

To her three daughters, Heather is a fun-loving, silly mom. Her co-workers at Norlyn Plains Hospital think she has it all, including a handsome lawyer husband. 

But when a flirtatious new doctor chooses Heather to spend his down time with, he reminds her of the man she regrettably gave up so many years before. Each interaction breathes new life into her and she gives in to the doctor’s seductions, threatening her fifteen year marriage. 

Her co-workers Victoria and Catherine, are stunned by her actions, but when they see the positive transformation in Heather, and question their own crumbling marriages, they wonder if she has the right idea. 

Can cheating on their husbands bring the three of them happiness? Or will they be destroyed by the consequences?

Victoria watched Heather crunch on each grape as if it were a Godiva chocolate truffle. Something she’d been doing all week. “What’s going on, Heather?”

Heather’s eyes widened, then she glanced at her Styrofoam bowl. She looked back at Victoria and her face changed.

“What is it? Something’s up, you’re too happy.”

“I can’t be happy?” Heather sank into her chair.

“Spill it.” Victoria dumped her spoon in her bowl, refusing to give in.

Heather peered over her shoulders and then bent in leaving only six inches between her and Victoria. She opened her mouth, then shut it. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“You’ve never kept anything from me in the five years we’ve worked together. And when have I ever repeated anything you’ve said?”

Heather flashed a smile. “Okay, but...” She lowered her voice further until barely a whisper crept out. “I slept with Dr. Silvatri over the weekend.” Heather plopped back in her chair and winced.

Victoria’s jaw plunged. The two of them studied each other. Victoria could not piece together the information. Sleeping with someone else? Cheating on Lance? Sure, she was miserable, sure he was an incredible ass, but she loved her daughters more than anything and to risk her marriage? For what? Some new doctor?

Heather grinned like a child admitting she pulled the fire alarm in the school hallway. Victoria continued her silence. Was she upset with Heather? No. She was actually…intrigued. Curious.

“Are you going to give me the details or what?”

Do you believe in second chances? Third? Fourth? Destiny’s determined to keep offering another shot...if they're brave enough to grab it. 

Heather, the quirky non-conformist, is the complete opposite of her conventional, yet highly sought after boyfriend, Lance. She doesn't know it yet, but her perfect boyfriend isn't perfect for her. When Nicolo, a vibrant new employee starts at her job, he ignites a fire inside her, and she finds herself second-guessing her boring future as a lawyer’s wife. 

Nicolo always questioned his purpose in this world, until Heather’s dynamic personality finds a way into his heart. She makes him believe he can conquer the world, while he gives her a glimpse at an adventurous future. Before they reveal their true feelings, a vindictive boss fires Nicolo, leaving Heather with no possibility of contacting him. 

Five years later, Lance, deeply engrossed in law school, has yet to propose. During a rare night out, fate reunites Heather with Nicolo and that old spark is still very much alive. Torn between losing him again and the emotions she can no longer suppress, they launch into a powerful love affair. Heather discovers passion and warmth, and knows she must leave Lance. 

With love this perfect, what tears them apart a second time? 

Fate continues to step in, as Heather and Nicolo cross paths every five years. Will they ever fulfill their destiny, or will insecurities keep them apart? 

Every Five Years is a witty, heartfelt story of true love and what happens when life keeps getting in the way.

She stepped back, but before Nicolo could throw it, a wave ripened and clobbered her. Heather’s head smacked into the sand. The crunch of her shoulder was the last thing she felt before the wave spun her. She attempted to stand, but before fully erect, another wave smacked hard, buckling her knees, and pushed her toward the sand. The taste of salt water burned her throat. Strands of hair coiled and blocked her vision. 

Heather struggled upward, unaware which direction she faced. A mounting wave walloped again. The taste of gritty sand in her mouth and the inability to see sent her into a panic. She coughed, spit, then pushed up on her palms one more time. She needed to escape. Now.

Powerful arms swept her from the water's depths. With her toes flying over the foamy surf, Heather coughed and clawed the hair away from her eyes and mouth. 

Nicolo placed her on their blanket and removed the sand from her face. Her breathing adjusted and she opened her eyes. He blocked the sun with his hand. “Are you okay?” 

She sputtered. “Yes, thank you.” 

He brushed the suffocating hair off her neck, pushed it back over her forehead, then gazed at her, silent. His hand continued to stroke her hair, and gently caress her face. Droplets glistened off his skin. Waves of black, slick hair dripped with seawater and landed on her chest. 

Feeling his magical fingers on her, seeing his face this close to hers again, made Heather want to taste his lips like she had imagined so many times in the past.

“You scared me.” He ran his finger down the side of her face to her chin. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t lose me again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She smiled. 

Nicolo collapsed next to her on the blanket and snuggled in until the warmth from their arms merged. She tilted her head onto his shoulder, wishing he would wrap his arms around her. He rested his chin on top instead, and held her hand, squeezing it tight. Their eyes closed. 

School and work no longer occupied her mind.

CHEATING TO SURVIVE

99 cents

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EVERY FIVE YEARS

99 cents

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THE BRIDGES BEFORE US

99 cents

AMAZON kindle ~ AMAZON paperback

I’m a registered dietitian/personal trainer who writes contemporary romance novels in my spare time. When weight lifting, rock climbing, white-water rafting, and jumping out of airplanes wasn’t enough, I decided to fulfill a dream I had as a child: to write a book. 

I’ve lived in New York my entire life and can’t imagine living anywhere else. I have the beaches, the bay and the city, all a half hour away. I’ve built memories here with my husband, two silly daughters and a bunch of crazy friends, all whom I love very much.

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This is a promo tour for Sunstone & Tendrils by Holly Barbo

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF
HOLLY BARBO

TENDRILS

Where ’What if’ becomes ‘What is’

AUTHOR: Holly Barbo

GENRE: Short story collection covering the following genres: Dystopian, Science Fiction, Sci-fi thriller, Sci-fantasy, Contemporary, Contemporary Thriller, Historical Fiction and Fantasy

Stories come from any number of places. One could start from a memory, a photo in a magazine or from pondering a news item and wondering, "What if?"

This collection arose from that sort of random stimuli. Some are pure imagination of science fiction or fantasy. Others developed from random historical facts or the disturbing news stories of war-torn regions.

This is a collection of stories for those who like to think.

Includes 4 award-winning short stories.

"I enjoyed every story in Tendrils! I am impressed with the versatility and well thought out environment in each setting. Obviously good research was put into writing these stories as well as a wonderful gift of empathy with a delightful touch of practical wisdom. In my opinion the last story would even make a good movie!" (Cynthia)

"An excellent compilation of short stories over different genres. I was highly impressed by the quality of the writing and her use of words, which dragged me in on every page." (Bookcollecter)

"I thoroughly enjoyed this read. I had a hard time putting the book down. Some stories are short, some long. All are suspenseful & of different genre. I am amazed at her extensive vocabulary and her overall knowledge on so many subjects. Her imagination takes you on a great trip every time with every story. None are ever boring. I highly recommend this latest book of hers. You will not be disappointed. Sit back & take yourself on an adventure. You will learn something too along the way." (Paul and Patti L. Jordan)

SAMPLE FROM THE SHORT STORY "A CRYSTAL SNOWFLAKE"

Orion gave a quick scan of the room. He needed to make sure he had everything important. His backpack was stuffed and the computer case held so much that there were edges of paper sticking out of it in a haphazard manner. The slender young man slung the strap of the computer bag over his shoulder, grabbed the backpack and headed for the front door. His hand paused as he reached for the knob and he looked out the window.

It was dark and he could see the snow falling through the street lights. There didn’t seem to be anyone about, so he slipped from the house and walked casually to his trusty old Chevy, his breath coming out in rapid visible puffs. The nonchalance was an act. He wanted anyone watching to assume he was going to M.I.T. to get in some late night work. He scanned the shadows, hoping that no one was there. He threw his backpack on the passenger seat then wedged the computer case between it and the seat back. He wanted both within easy reach. Once buckled in, he allowed his nervousness to slip out and thoroughly checked the view from his mirrors.

He eased onto the street and when there was no sign of his tires slipping, increased his speed. Orion reached into the pocket of the backpack for the pre-paid phone that he’d picked up when he determined his cell had been tapped. At the stop sign, he punched in a number. The snow flurries were increasing and he switched on the wipers. Orion waited for his friend to pick up.

He smiled when he heard her voice and responded by saying, “I’m on my way and no one is following me. Just in case, I sent instructions to our safe place. Don’t worry about retrieving the envelope unless I don’t get there by morning. Okay. Gotta go. I’ll be at your door for breakfast with your favorite croissants. Have the coffee brewed.”

Orion laughed at the response. “Okay. I need to concentrate on driving in this stuff. See you soon, Chayse. Bye.”

Beyond the stop sign, the road sloped to a picturesque country bridge, one of many that dotted the New England states. He had to admit it was beautiful in the snowfall but with the driving conditions worsening, he focused on how the car responded to his small adjustments in steering. In the weak light, he didn’t notice the watcher standing in the shelter of some trees on the far side of the road. The muffled figure took a box out of his pocket, pointed it at the car and pushed a button. The loud sibilant schwuff of the slush hitting the car’s undercarriage drowned out the pop.

Without any warning, Orion’s power steering quit. Working to compensate on the slick road, he fought to correct the fish-tailing motion of the car. “Shit!” He tapped the brakes and was horrified as his foot went all the way to the floor.

Fighting the wheel and the momentum of the old Chevy on the slippery surface became his entire focus…and he was losing. He tried gearing down and applying the emergency brake, but the car went into a spin and he caught a glimpse of the bridge railing coming up too fast. “Shit!” The car broke through the wooden barrier and sailed into the darkness over the side.

Amazon   ✯   Goodreads

SUNSTONE

AUTHOR: Holly Barbo

GENRE: Steampunk Thriller

The steam-powered civilization of Myrn is a thriving adolescent culture. But the rapid industrial development has given rise to greed, and the triumvirate of government, banks and industry leaders has lost sight of those it is supposed to serve and protect.

When a mysterious incurable illness sweeps through the impoverished masses, increasing the suffering to breaking point, rebellion seems unavoidable. Society is on the brink of revolution, and the planet is marked for destruction.

M'nacht, his son Kes, and his team of researchers investigate a legend about three sacred fossils that could save the people and rebalance Myrn. However, they are not the only ones looking. Where they see salvation, others see power, wealth and control. 

Will the gifts from the goddess Navora be found in time to save their world, or will the sacrifice of innocents be lost under the weight of human depravity and corruption?

“Kes, M’nacht’s been attacked! He is in a bad way. I’m at Paramount Hospital now. He’s in surgery and I don’t have any information. I came back from the market to find the place crawling with security officers and M’nacht bleeding and broken on the floor. The room was a mess, as if someone was determined to find something. The officers wanted me to straighten up after they had gotten their evidence. I couldn’t find anything missing, but I did find M’nacht had programed a message bot and left it docked on the dash-key. Kes—he had set it on a timer to call in the alarm! Damn him! He had known they were coming and sent a delayed call for help! He took that beating when he could have prevented it! This morning before I left, he had mentioned for me to keep in touch with you if he couldn’t. I didn’t think much about it at the time. Anyway, I want you to know I’m here and watching out for him. Knowing that maddening old man, he probably sent you a message too. Whatever it was—heed it!”

Kes ran a shaky hand over his face and let out a shuddering breath. The steam car beeped its proximity to their destination. Kes took over the controls and parked in his space. The messages had rattled him enough that he braked the vehicle with a jolt instead of his normal smooth skill. He would rather be by his adopted father’s side, but the old man’s words kept playing in his mind. He needed to get to M’nacht’s place in the Heights as nonchalantly as possible and let himself in. It sounded like the home could be under surveillance. It didn’t matter who was watching: the law or thugs. He couldn’t be seen and he had to get in and out as fast as possible. This was the last twi-day. Perhaps the gloom would help. Pulling out a bulky sweater and a hat to disguise himself, he slipped the pack on his back and left the garage. His vacation could wait a few minutes.

When Kes got to the house, he furtively stepped off the sidewalk and behind some concealing bushes, then, crouching low, sprinted. He let himself into the empty house and, moving with as much rapid stealth as he could, went to M’nacht’s study. He glanced at the blood stains on the rug, the shards of a broken vase and the pile of books that Quin had organized as he’d tidied up. Wasting no time, Kes strode to the navorite and tapped a rhythm on the base. There was an almost inaudible whirring and a click as the gears engaged and the door opened. Kes listened to the silent house, then stepped inside the closet. He quickly removed the sweater and hat, stuffing them in the pack. The peepholes showed he was still alone in the room, so he turned to the work space. He glanced at the shelves and the armored wall safe but nothing appeared abnormal. On the narrow countertop was a small pile of items: a hand-sized leather-bound journal that looked very old and a small silk bag. On the top of both was a moon-pearl blossom. Kes knew that M’nacht loved those flowers. He picked it up. It had been cut that morning and still held traces of dew. Kes knew that the flower marked the small pile as if it had a sign with his name on it.

He stowed the journal in his pack and the small bag into his vest pocket. His hand paused as he pulled out his little fossil. Somehow everything tied back to the little navorite he’d found in the Cradle. He started to slip it back in his pocket when his attention was suddenly drawn to the peepholes. Two men and a woman were silhouetted in the study’s archway. They were using hand signals to each other and carrying cudgels. His heart began to pound and he moved to check if he had completely secured the door. It was still open a crack. With gentle pressure, he closed it, but there was a whisper of a click. One of the men whirled and leaned into the room. From beneath an overturned chair, the little robo-cleaner hummed into view. The man swore under his breath but stepped into the room anyway. The other two silently followed.

His heart was pounding as he peered through the hidden peepholes, watching the man get closer. Suddenly, Kes felt the air stir. There was a tang to the scent which reminded him of the sea. A heartbeat later, the hidden security closet was empty.

Amazon   ✯   Goodreads

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Holly's world is shaped by her love of family, the beauty of the natural world and an irrepressible creative drive. She has always been curious and sees life through questions. These four characteristics color her writing voice and her stories frequently evolve from her asking "What if....?" Her tales tend to have non-urban settings with nature contributing to the plot, building discordant themes inside a seemingly peaceful refrain.

My motto: Weaving Alternative Worlds with Threads From Today.

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This is a release tour for Honor Roll by Kelly Collins

HONOR ROLL

AUTHOR: Kelly Collins

GENRE: Contemporary Romance

When do you become the sum of your parts?

Drop dead gorgeous, kind to a fault and good in bed, twenty-six-year-old graduate student Luca Gregorio meets all the requirements for The Dean’s List, a university society that offers alumni anything they desire—for a price. Weeks from graduating, Luca loses his most valuable client. Determined to graduate debt free, he needs new patrons to cover his shortfall. His once easy job at Concierge Services becomes complicated once he meets Mim Knight, a woman he can’t ignore.

She was worth more.

Cultured and beautiful Mim Knight isn’t looking for anything but a quick end to a frustrating workday when Luca Gregorio shows up on the other side of her desk. Despite his too-good-to-be-true looks, he’s different from the trust fund boys she’s used to. He’s fearless, genuine, and sexy as hell.

They say money is the root of all evil, but they’re wrong.

Drowning in lies of omission, Luca knows one misplaced step will lose Mim forever, but like his dream of financial freedom, he can’t let her go. In the world of commodities, everyone has something to sell. What price do you demand for your honor? What price do you put on love?

“Who is she?” Jade asked.

“That's Mim.” When I closed my eyes, I could see her smile and hear her laughter. “She’s the assistant for my new professor. She’s different. Bad attitude. Cute smile. Sexy accent.”

River reached across and held my hand. “I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s not like that. I asked her to dinner and she told me I was taking her out on Thursday. So now I have to decide if I’m going to show.” Deep inside I knew I’d go because even though Mim was frustrating in the few encounters I had with her, she was the realest thing I had right now besides these two.

Jade sat up and leaned in. “I call bullshit. You get a soft, warm look on your face when you say her name.”

“She says she loves Italian.” I bit my lip in that sexy way women liked and winked at my friends.

“Yes, but you can love Italian, or you can looove Italian. Which is it going to be?” River asked.

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Kelly Collins writes with the intention of keeping the love alive.

Always a romantic, she is inspired by real time events mixed with a dose of fiction. She encourages her readers to reach the happily ever after but bask in the afterglow of the perfectly imperfect love.

Kelly lives in Colorado with her husband of twenty-five years. She loves hockey, shiny objects and has a new found appreciation for green smoothies.

Kelly has a landing page that hosts all her books.

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This is a release tour for Between Good and Evil by R. Michael Phillips

BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL

Auburn Notch Mystery Book 1

AUTHOR: R. Michael Phillips

GENRE: Mystery
Published by Sunbury Press

With a broad smile and slight wrinkles at the corners of your eyes you snap shut your suitcase and grab the sunscreen without ever entertaining the notion murderers go on vacation too. What adds a chilling dimension to the idea is they look just like any other tourist in plaid shorts and a golf shirt until you catch a glimpse of the terrifying evil hidden behind their Foster Grants. It’s not something you’re likely to forget, especially once they look up over the postcard rack and realize you’re the one that got away.

Promise Flynn was an overly impulsive Metro Detective whose disregard for procedure finally resulted in her being shot and left for dead during an investigation. To repair her bruised ego and splintered confidence she abandons the callous dark alleys of Chicago to patrol the quiet, birch-lined streets of Auburn Notch—a favorite vacation spot of her youth. For two years everything was idyllic, until the body of a young girl found in the abandoned asylum outside of town awakens the insecurities she thought her new life would insulate her from. As the new Sheriff she begins her investigation refusing to accept the similarities between the young woman’s death and her own case, oblivious to being unexpectedly recognized and penciled in at the top of a clever murderer’s To-Do list. Her internal struggle intensifies when a discredited crime reporter from the past suspiciously arrives in town to resurrect his threadbare reputation, along with an FBI agent chasing down a lead in a cold case. Both men quickly become entangled in Flynn's investigation and her attempts to finally put her past to rest. Flynn reluctantly accepts the murder might be the work of the two men responsible for her hasty departure from Chicago, but Agent MacGregor insists the evidence points to a man he’s been chasing. As the rising current of her past threatens to pull her under, Flynn finds herself unprepared for option three.

The festivities in town were slowly petering out as the eleven o’clock hour approached. The earlier-packed sidewalks along the main drag, crowded with assorted craft and food vendors, were opening back up in ten-foot sections at a time as booths were disassembled. The trendy watering holes were still flush with business. The locals shuffled through the crowds grumbling about quieter times, while the newly of-age drinkers were busy testing the waters and carving out a space for themselves at the bar. The clusters gathered around family activities had diminished proportionately with the ages of the children attached to the extended arms of their parents. Cafés and eateries were cleaning up after a long day of serving sandwiches, dinners, sweets, and coffee to an overwhelming flock of locals and out-of-towners in for the festival. The assortment of local college students hired for the event were busy wiping down tables, eagerly anticipating a second wave of good tips. About another thirty minutes they figured, as soon as the parents washed the cotton candy and ice cream off all the little faces and they were nestled snugly beneath their covers.

“Promise,” a shrill voice called out from one of the tables on the sidewalk in front of the Auburn Coffee House. “Sheriff Flynn, do you have a minute?”

As Sheriff Flynn approached the coffee house, she couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Johnson seated at one of the tables on the sidewalk. Policing the festival activities and the swelling of the population proved a long and tiring three days. Chitchat remained at the bottom of her list of things to do at that moment. She had hoped her hastened step, lowered head, and obvious intention of ignoring any recognition of her would give the impression of being off on police business. She paused, looking over the tops of the crowd, hoping to see some sort of minor criminal activity going on. Nothing major, she thought to herself. Public urination would work. Littering. A dog walker not scooping. Anything? Her thoughts eventually drifted to the possibility of a shootout in front of the bank as not being such a bad option at that moment. It wasn’t to be. She caught a glimpse of Mrs. Johnson out of the corner of her eye still waving. Not a distraction in sight. This town is too damn law abiding.

“Sheriff Promise Mary Flynn,” called out Mrs. Johnson, as if addressing a petulant child. “I’ve got a matter we need to discuss.”

Sheriff Flynn tucked her hopes of a shootout away and walked over to the table. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson, I didn’t see you there. You see, I’m on my way—”

“Nonsense,” replied Mrs. Johnson cordially but firmly. “There is always a moment for two civil servants to compare notes. Besides, you have a whole department to handle the day-to-day policing of this fine town.” Mrs. Johnson paused, looked out over her reading glasses at the sheriff, giving the attractive, tall blond the onceover. “You know, it wouldn’t break any laws if you did something with your hair other than stuffing it under that hat.” She gave a petite snort to signal the end of her analyzing glance.

“With a little eye shadow, I would imagine some men might even find you attractive.”

Sheriff Flynn clenched her teeth into what might be construed as a smile and groaned. Forget the bank, a shootout right here will work just fine. “If this is about the missing money from the swim club account, Hank has been quietly looking into it. I can assure you—”

“No. No. No!” Mrs. Johnson replied, looking around and making sure no one was listening. “Please keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to know I’ve asked you to look into that.”

Promise bit her inside cheek, continuing the conversation through clenched teeth. “Is there something else on your mind, Alice?”

“Yes. There is something much more urgent I believe we need to discuss,” said Alice Johnson. She pushed out the chair across from her with her foot, giving a nod of direction to the sheriff. “Have a seat, this will only take a minute. It’s the well-being of our citizenry at stake, and I know it’s as much a priority to you as it is to me.”

There was no escape. Short of an actual crime being committed at that very moment right in front of them, Flynn had no choice but to sit, smile, and listen to what the councilwoman had on her mind. “Well-being of the citizenry? I’m not sure I understand.”

The councilwoman pulled a green folder from her oversized canvas tote, placing it down on the table in front of Flynn. “As you can tell by these photos, I’ve made an extensive investigation of that dangerous curve out by the old asylum. This photo here,” she continued, nudging one of the photos out from the pile, “is of particular interest. You see that guardrail? I kicked it a few times, and it broke clean away from the support going into the ground. It’s that way along the entire length of the curve. It’s a deathtrap. I know this is a highway department matter, but I can’t stand by when a potential hazard to the fine people of this town is being ignored.”

Sheriff Flynn picked up the photo, making a careful examination of the evidence. “Those temporary barricades should be just fine.” She pointed to one in particular in the photo. “Like this one you had to move in order to get close enough to kick the guardrail. As long as no one moves them again, these will certainly protect the fine citizens of Auburn Notch.” Promise paused for a moment. “I believe there is also a sign directing people to use the fire access road as an alternative. It’s just up around the bend from that curve.”

“Nobody is going to use that narrow, dirt road. I certainly wouldn’t. Besides, most people don’t even know it’s there.”

“Well, I’m not sure what else I can do. At this point it’s a matter between you and the highway department.”

“Luke Sanders said he has money appropriated to replace the old guardrail in the new budget, but his department has a few other matters higher on his priority list.” Councilwoman Johnson tidied up the pile of photos and slipped them and the folder back into her tote. “Those wooden barricades might be fine to block off a parade route, but a speeding car will go right through them and over that embankment.”

Sheriff Flynn rose from her seat, eyeing her deputy coming in her direction at a hastened pace. No matter what he wants, she thought to herself, it was going to be an important matter in need of my immediate attention. “Everyone knows how treacherous that stretch of road is. I can’t image anyone speeding around that curve. If it will make you happy, I’ll talk to Luke and see if we can’t get a few more caution signs posted further down the road in both directions until his men can get out there. In the meantime, try not to kick it anymore.”

Councilwoman Johnson’s eyes narrowed at the insinuation. She responded with a grunt and a halfhearted smile. “Thank you, Promise, I knew I could count on your support.”

Sheriff Flynn nodded. She felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.”

“What is it, Hank?” replied the sheriff brightly; uncharacteristically appreciating his interruption whether or not it turned out to be his usual bellyaching about something he would have done differently.

“It may be nothing, Sheriff,” replied Hank, turning the sheriff away from the table and speaking quietly, “but we got a report there’s a lit candle in a second floor window of the old mental hospital. I’ll take care of it, I just wanted to let you know I’m goin’ up there.”

Sheriff Flynn didn’t respond. A quick gasp stole her voice. She glanced passed Hank, her eyes rolling upward following the tree line. There, perched on a granite crag a thousand or so feet in elevation above the town, were the weathered edges of slate gables piercing the silhouette of a tired length of pine trees. Where the spikes and dips clustered together were a fair representation of the past health of such a grand structure, the sharp drop-off to a flat, indigo tree line is deathly expressive of its sudden and tragic end. Little more than the discarded shell of how it once appeared, there remained a slight whisper of evil in its squalid halls. To Promise, this evil had a different voice. A voice she never wanted to hear again.

“It’s those damn kids,” moaned Mrs. Johnson, her hearing as acute as rumor had it. “You know, that group that walks around here dressed in black with those God-awful tattoos and piercings. Vampires, that’s what I say they are. Black shirts. Black pants. Black boots. Skulking about at night. Always up to no good. What decent child has coal-black hair with a white streak running down the left side? Up to no good, that’s what I say. I’ve a mind to call their parents in front of the next council meeting . . .”

“Are you okay, Sheriff?” Hank whispered under Mrs. Johnson’s rant.

Sheriff Flynn’s eyes remained fixed on the asylum. The chill running up her spine muffled any recognition of what her deputy was saying. She could feel a dull ache rising in her left shoulder. Not again. It can’t be. It can’t be.

“Did you hear me, Promise?” interrupted Councilwoman Johnson. “It’s those kids. Those vampires. Those damn—”

Sheriff Flynn raised her hand, shaking off the panicked look she hoped went unnoticed. She took a deep breath, tempering her response. “We don’t know anything yet, Alice. As for your vampires, I don’t think this town has seen a bit of trouble from any of those kids. They just express themselves a little differently than you and I.” She hesitated, trying to hold the words back. The next remark went off like the snap of a mousetrap. “And if dressing in black was a crime, they’d be sharing a cell with you. If you’ll excuse me, I think I better go out and see what’s going on. I’ll make it a point to find you tomorrow after I speak to Luke. Nice seeing you, Alice.”

Mrs. Johnson replied with a carping grunt. Before she could mount her rebuttal, Sheriff Flynn and Hank were in the patrol car heading out of town on Interstate 93 toward the abandoned mental hospital.

“What are you looking at?” asked Sheriff Flynn, giving a quick glance over at Hank.

“If dressing in black was a crime?”

“Yeah, I’m probably gonna regret that.”

Hank paused, trying to get a read on the sheriff’s expression. She actually looked spooked. They had been working together for two years. Two irritating years, according to Hank. Auburn Notch certainly isn’t a hub of criminal activity, just the usual share of traffic tickets and the occasional dead body due to a house fire or accident. Nothing ever happened that would warrant the mayor appointing some out-of-town, big-city detective as sheriff instead of him. He had the town council’s ear and wasn’t bashful about letting them know he was suspicious about her past. Hank was convinced it was only a matter of time before he would uncover the information he needed to replace his boss behind the big desk in the sheriff’s office. For the time being, she was sheriff, and he just had to deal with it.

Promise Flynn might be some out-of-town detective, but she spent many years vacationing in Auburn Notch with her family. One thing she learned back then, there are no secrets in a small New England town. She was very much aware of Hank’s resentment from her first day on the job and decided to let him dig around all he wanted. Just to make it interesting, she also put him in charge of the swim club investigation. She already had a good read on what transpired, but giving the investigation to Hank would flush out his true character. If he’s half the cop he tells people he is, he should have no problem putting the pieces together. It will also test his loyalty. Flynn had a feeling at least two prominent people might be involved with the missing money, and one of them is a close friend of Hanks. If he comes up empty, writing traffic tickets in a small town is going to be the extent of his law enforcement career. Until then, she’ll just have to continue to ignore him tugging at the rug under her boots.

“So why are you tagging along? I said I’d handle it.”

Flynn’s mind was elsewhere. By the time she realized he was talking to her, Hank tried another approach to get an answer.

“Just kids. That’s all,” Hank huffed.

“What is?”

“The candle in the window of the asylum. I chase those damn kids outta there once a week. You didn’t have to come along. It’s probably nothing. Just a candle in the window of an old building.”

Sheriff Flynn looked over at Hank, her lips drawn tightly closed. She shook her head and looked back through the windshield at the dark road ahead. “It’s never just a candle.”

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Michael is a classically trained artist turned mystery writer. By combining his creative talents with a passion for mysteries he conceived his first series—The Ernie Bisquets Mysteries. It introduced Ernie Bisquets, a retired London pickpocket who decided he was going to assist the London police with there most difficult cases—whether they want his help or not. Michael has completed 3 books in the series, and has plans for at least five additional books.

Michael travels a bit, especially to Great Britain, but also has a fondness for New England. He spent many winters in the shadow of the White Mountains, skiing and enjoying the beautiful countryside. Those fond memories are the backdrop now for the new Auburn Notch Mysteries being published by Sunbury Press. The main character is Sheriff Promise Flynn—an ex-metro detective who left a dark past and her big-city detective shield behind and moved to a small New England town. What follows is anything but therapeutic.

When he’s not painting or writing Michael is an avid antique collector, filling his current home—an 1894 Queen Ann Victorian he, his wife, and son are restoring—with an assortment of antiques from around the world. Michael also enjoys cooking, working in the garden, and playing in the yard with their two rescues, Beau and Pup.

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This is a release tour for Darkness Undone by Georgia Lyn Hunter

DARKNESS UNDONE

Book 1 of The Warlords of Empyrea

AUTHOR: G.L. Hunter

GENRE: Paranormal Romance

A fading realm, a warrior bound, and the woman who will save them both… 

Bound to a vengeful goddess, immortal warrior, Reynner, has little time for the fairer sex. The last thing he wants is to be aligned with another female, even if she is the key to finding an artifact and saving his realm. But his stone-cold resistance is tested, his attraction undeniable for the feisty mortal, until she demands the one thing he cannot give her…his trust. 

Eve Leighton avoids intimacy of any sort after an accident in her teens left her with a painful ability to see into another’s mind through physical contact. When an ice-cold warrior claims she is his world’s savior, she’s intrigued, until she dares a look into his soul and sees a man who’s been cruelly betrayed. She agrees to help him and loses her heart. But the man is an unassailable fortress. With quiet determination, she chips away his barriers and a passion darker than night pulls them under. 

As his enemies closes in on the hunt for the artifact, Reynner must overcome his own personal demons as battles are fought to claim the woman he loves or lose her forever. And Eve has to face her own mortality and fight for a love of a lifetime.

The sudden hush in the busy little café should have been his first clue shit was about to fly.

Wrapped in his thoughts, Reynner savored his dark roasted coffee hot enough to scrape a layer off his throat, when he became aware of the unnatural quiet. Looking up, he got an eyeful of a tall female sashaying toward him, not in the least surprised she’d found him. Again.

Lustrous black hair framed a face of sheer perfection, one that made gods and men whimper for her favor. A long, fitted white dress with a slit up to her thigh hugged her body and fell to her ankles.

Oh, he understood the awed silence all too well since he’d once succumbed to that same sensual spell. Easing his grip on the mug, he set it aside, wishing he’d taken his coffee to go. A chair scraped on the linoleum opposite him. A moment later, her stiletto heel rode up his leather-clad leg to caress his inner thigh beneath the tablecloth.

He shoved her foot off him. In a measured move, he picked up a coin from the change on the table and spun it so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach across and strangle her.

“Get lost, Inanna. I'm busy.”

“Reynner…” She held out a hand in appeal, her topaz eyes luminescent with tears. “Don’t do this...”

Ignoring the Sumerian Goddess of Love and War hadn’t worked in the past, and certainly not now.

He cut her an implacable stare. “Don’t do what? Ignore you? Or prefer other females?”

Her face darkened at his mention of the women. “Why would you want these weak, pathetic creatures?” Her tears vanished as fast as they appeared. “I'm powerful. I’ll make it wonderful between us again.”

Reynner leaned back in the wooden chair and ran a cool, dismissive gaze over her stunning face and lush body. More flighty promises, but no hint of an apology for what she’d done to him. The thought would never have entered her narcissistic mind.

“I enjoy other women.”

“You lie.”

Reynner shrugged. Picking up the fallen coin, he worked it between his fingers. He just wanted coffee and a few minutes of quiet before he went back on the streets. Instead, he got her.

It should have felt good torturing Inanna, but he got no enjoyment, just a prolonged headache that had started over two millennia ago.

How could he have known then that stopping at the Sumerian pantheon would so irrevocably change his life?

“You’ve become cold and unfeeling. One little mistake and you're still making me pay.” Her sulky voice drew him back.

“One little mistake?” His tone made glaciers seem warm.

“It was just a teeny-tiny year—”

“A year?” His hands crashed on the table. The coin flew and disappeared beneath a chair. “It was a fucking century in Hell!”

Inanna jerked back and blinked. Several humans turned their way in curiosity.

“Your deception caught me unaware, never forget what I am,” he said, his warning clear.

Her eyes flickered. Not from fear, Inanna didn’t believe there was anyone more powerful than her, but with a gleam of sexual promise. She knew all too well what he was, and why she hounded him.

Empyreans were a race of beings as old as the celestial angels and just as powerful, but far more carnal.

She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, her low neckline displaying an eyeful of cleavage. “I’ll make it up to you…” Her voice lowered to a smoky promise. “I’ll make you my consort.”

He’d rather be imprisoned in Hell again.

“You have a mate.”

“I am a goddess. I can do whatever I want. Come on, lover,” she wheedled. “It will be good between us again…then I’ll help you find what you seek.”

Reynner stilled, his instincts on alert. Did she know where the missing Stone was? But meeting her watchful gaze, he dismissed the thought. No immortal would know for sure. The damn thing hid from them all. Even if she could aid him, he would never accept her help. It always came with a price.

Reining in his irritation, he ignored her baiting and turned to take in the busy café.

The brunette waitress at the table farther down watched him from beneath her lashes while she served a customer. She’d been sending him all sorts of signals from the moment she’d set his coffee down. Ones he didn’t encourage since he had no interest in females as a whole. Besides, he knew what a jealous bitch Inanna could be.

A virulent hiss erupted from opposite him when she spotted the waitress. As if to prove his point, with a flick of her hand, the waitress flew backward, crashing into a table. Chaos erupted, drowning the female’s frightened cry. Two human males rushed to help her.

A cat-like smile curved Inanna’s mouth. But her eyes flared with ire as she played with the deep blue lapis lazuli stone set in intricate silver filigree around her neck. “Look at another human tart again, and I will hurt her.”

Of that, he had little doubt.

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I’ve been creating stories from the moment I could string two words together. No matter the tale, it always has romance woven through them. Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic.

When I’m not writing or plotting new books, I like to read, travel, painting, or troll flea markets where I usually buy things I might never actually use because they're so pretty.

After working in a few jobs all art related, a chosen career as a fashion designer, then an art teacher, I finally found my passion four years ago: writing. There really is no other job I’d rather do.

Oh, and I live in the beautiful country of South Africa.

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This is the promo portion of the review tour for Molly's Misadventures by D.E. Haggerty

MOLLY'S MISADVENTURES

AUTHOR: D.E. Haggerty

GENRE: Contemporary Romantic Comedy

I’m having the suckiest day ever. First, my father, aka Mr. Grumpy Pants, calls to say his nurse just walked out on him. Likely story. I rush home to pack only to walk in on my husband getting it on with his young, skanky secretary. Unfortunately, my quick weekend trip home to fix Dad’s problems turns into a stay of a few weeks. Luckily, I’ve got Danny, the neighbor boy I had a crush on when I was a dorky, braces-wearing, nose-buried-in-a-book teenager, and a brand-spanking new blog to keep my mind off things. Before I know it, I’m writing product reviews of vibrators and getting questioned by a store rent-a-cop at the world’s worst date ever. All while trying to figure out how to take things with Danny to the next level. Not to complicate things or anything but my boss decides to give me an ultimatum – come back in four weeks or don’t come back at all. How in the world did my life get so complicated?

As the waiters roll out a cart covered in pasta rollers, my nerves kick into high gear. It can’t be that we’re expected to make fresh pasta dough now? Shit! Instead of fantasizing about what Danny’s hiding in his pants, I should have been taking notes. I look down and notice the flour and eggs on the table in front of us. I really should have paid attention. 

I lean over and whisper in Danny’s ear. “I hope you were paying attention.” 

He chuckles and nods, as if making fresh pasta is no big deal. He’s obviously not spent any time in a kitchen when I’ve been behind the stove. Using a packaged mix to make waffles or pancakes is totally not on the same level as making something from scratch with fresh ingredients. 

Danny stands and grabs an apron from the table. He unrolls it and places it over my head. “Turn around, babe.” I turn, and he ties the apron right above the curve of my ass. He ghosts his hands over my ass before leaning in and kissing me right behind my ear. “Don’t worry. It will be fun.” Easy for him to say. 

I let Danny mix the flour and eggs, which is a mistake. He pours the dough onto the surface and turns to me. “Your turn.” 

“My turn for what?” I squeak. 

“Knead the dough.” 

I roll my eyes. “Knead the dough,” I mutter. “Sure, no problem.” I start to play with the dough; not having a clue what kneading really means. 

Danny stands and comes up behind me. He plasters his front into my back and reaches around to grab my hands. “Like this, baby,” he whispers into my ear and I shiver. Oh yeah, I’ll knead the dough all right. I’ll knead that freaking dough all night. 

Once the dough is wrapped into plastic, I head off to the restroom to make room in my bladder for more champagne. I do my business and walk to the sinks to wash my hands. I look up at the mirror and let out a scream. There’s flour streaked across my forehead. Is that dough in my hair? I clean up as best I can as quickly as possible because I’m supposed to be helping Danny make sauce for our pasta instead of having a meltdown in the bathroom. 

I march to our table and confront Danny. “You could have told me I had flour all over me,” I grit out between my teeth. 

He shrugs. Shrugs! “You looked so cute.” He winks as he says at it. I deflate. How does that man know the right thing to say all the time? “Come on, stop moping and help me with this pasta sauce.” 

Danny doesn’t need any help with the sauce. I sip on my sparkling wine as he chops, stirs, and tastes. When he’s satisfied with the flavor, he offers me a taste. Man, that’s good. I moan. He leans forward and whispers into my ear, “I want to hear you make that noise while I’m in your pants.” 

I stop breathing for a second. When did Danny go from boy next door to tease extraordinaire? I watch with satisfaction as he reaches down and adjusts himself. He catches me watching, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He just winks again and turns back to the sauce. 

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I grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage every once in a while to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. Another job change, this time from lawyer to B&B owner, and I was again fed up and ready to scream I quit, which is incredibly difficult when you own the business. Thus, I shut the B&B during the week and in the off-season and started writing. Several books later I find myself in Istanbul writing full-time.

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This is a release tour for Choice by Enemies by M.A. Richards

CHOICE OF ENEMIES

Book 1 of A Nathan Monsarrat Thiller

AUTHOR: M A Richards

GENRE: Thriller/Espionage
EDITOR: Janice Rhayem of Sunbury Press
COVER DESIGNER: Amber Rendon of Sunbury Press

CHOICE OF ENEMIES is the first in a series of espionage novels featuring Nathan Monsarrat, a retired Central Intelligence Agency deep cover operative with an extensive knowledge of black gold and expertise in weapons, women, and Benjamins.

Light sweet crude is the mother’s milk of the Niger Delta.

As the price for each barrel of oil rises on the international markets and the stakes for securing the black gold increase, a consortium of American oil companies and the Central Intelligence Agency plot to secure the flow of the crude.

In Africa, though, plans unravel as quickly as cheap socks, and promises between partners have the lifespan of a mayfly.

Nathan, now a Dean at a small college in Massachusetts, is visited by his former mentor at the Agency, who offers him a blunt choice: either travel to the Dark Continent to lay the groundwork for the coup d'état, or condemn the woman who saved his life to a brutal execution.

Out of options, he returns to Africa, where he discovers that the Agency plans to reward his services with an oil soaked grave.

Assisted by a coterie of new and old allies, including a beautiful vor with a thirst for power and a yeshiva bocher with a fondness for Armani suits, as well as his own sharp intelligence, considerable wit, and substantial charm, Nathan parries the Agency, circumvents the consortium, and exacts his own vengeance. 

In doing so, he learns that his choice of friends is as important as his choice of enemies.

I. THE DELTA

IN THE COOL OF THE AFRICAN DAWN

In the cool of the African dawn, six armored Suburbans bulled through the sodden Delta jungle toward Bonny Island. In their wake, whirlwinds of red dirt billowed upward toward the crown canopy. Inside the vehicles, frigid air filtered the jungle stench of rot and decay. Felix Sanhedrin, a twenty-five-year veteran of covert operations in Africa and the Middle East, sat on the rear bench of the convoy’s second Suburban like Allan Quatermain returned to the Dark Continent. White linen slacks, a blue Oxford shirt, a silk ascot, and a freshly pressed, khaki bush jacket adorned his thin frame. A device more computer than chronometer rested on his left wrist. His felt slouch hat boasted a faux leopard-skin band, and his canvas jungle boots gleamed. A Glock 19 nested in a leather holster on his right hip.

Sanhedrin’s new boots rested atop two green, canvas duffel bags stuffed with

Benjamin Franklins, and he carried with him, like a talisman, the blessings of the Mandarins who guided the operations of the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia. Despite their stated policy to never negotiate with the enemies of the United States, Sanhedrin had convinced the éminences grises to ransom his assistant, Nathan Monsarrat, from the rebel group called Fighters Against Terror in Africa, or FATA.

He issued orders like a young boy presenting Santa Claus with his Christmas list.

“First rule: I’m in charge, and my word is law. Second rule: we take only Monsarrat with us. Final rule: my money’s bought your silence. Neither you nor your shooters nor your medics will speak of this mission to anyone. Never repeat, never. Capish, my new friend?”

Next to Sanhedrin, Mark Palmer wore funereal black, a shooter’s vest, tee shirt,

tactical pants, jungle boots, baseball cap, Nomex gloves, and sunglasses. Years beneath the African sun had braised his face and arms. He was clean shaven, and his hair was cut in a brown bristle. Military tattoos covered both his forearms, and blue veins latticed his knotted muscles. He carried an M4 rifle, a brace of Heckler and Koch P30 pistols in nylon holsters strapped to his thighs, a combat knife, commo gear, and four P30 magazines looped onto his belt. The shooter’s vest held extra M4 mags.

He spoke with a soft, southern drawl. “Five by five, Mr. Scarnagh. No worries. We were never here.”

Sanhedrin had declared himself to Palmer by his work name, Fineghan Scarnagh. He operated under the letters F and S, keeping with the monograms on his shirt cuffs. Felix and Fineghan. Sanhedrin and Scarnagh. “You should call me Fineghan. After all, we’re in the same line of work.”

“What line of work would that be, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m an independent oil consultant. I work with firms in Africa. Occasionally in Russia. Often in the Middle East.”

“Funny we haven’t met before, me being the chief of security for the biggest oil services company in Africa,” Palmer offered.

Sanhedrin prided himself on his light touch. “I’m a traveling oil gun for hire.”

Palmer smiled politely. “Have you worked with my company previously, Fineghan?”

Sanhedrin admitted that he had not experienced the pleasure. “What about you, Mark? How’d you get into the oil business?”

Palmer gestured toward the two men in the front of the Suburban. “We’re specialists—Frank, Joe, and me. We have skill sets that oil companies find attractive.”

“Former army?” Sanhedrin asked, although he had memorized the personal history of every man and woman in the convoy.

Shafts of golden sunlight as thin as reeds cast shadowed patterns on the hardscrabble road. Joe Marinelli drove the Suburban, while Frank Rollins navigated in the shotgun seat. They might have been clones of Palmer. They wore the same clothes and carried the same equipment, save each sported a mustache, closely trimmed beard, and hair plaited into a single braid, blonde for Rollins and brown for Marinelli.

“Afghanistan, Iraq, Yemen, Somalia, Eritrea, South Sudan,” Palmer replied. “You name it, if it’s in the shit, we fought there.”

“Rangers for Joe and me,” Rollins answered.

“Scrolls, not tabs,” Marinelli added. “Mark was a Special Forces light bird. Compared to him, Frank and me are cub scouts.”

Compliments bored Palmer. “Monsarrat also claimed to be an independent oil consultant. Like you, he worked in Africa, Russia, and the Middle East.”

“You know him?” Sanhedrin inquired.

“We met a few times in Abuja and Lagos. Port Harcourt, more often.”

“It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

Palmer recited his sums for Sanhedrin. “In my small world, people who claim to be independent oil consultants are usually CIA spooks. Not that I have anything against spooks, other than they can’t be trusted.”

“I’m sorry for your hard times,” Sanhedrin commiserated, “although I’m not your usual independent oil consultant.”

“Roger that,” Palmer agreed, “you carrying a Glock on your hip.”

“It’s just window dressing,” Sanhedrin answered modestly. “Did you have problem cashing my check?”

“Your payment sailed through the bank.”

“Is it my couture that bothers you?”

Palmer had attempted to trace the background of Fineghan Scarnagh. His head hurt from banging it against the maze of brick walls he had encountered. “Truthfully, I smell Agency all over you.”

Sanhedrin brushed his fingertips across the holster. “My cologne upsets you?”

In the front of the Suburban, Rollins and Marinelli eyed the dirt road for threats while listening hard to the conversation. Each bore scars from prior Langley operations.

“In my experience,” Palmer continued, “when the Agency runs an operation, things usually turn south real fast, and the shit splatters everyone involved, save the boys and girls from Langley. So I’m only asking for confirmation.”

“Confirmation of what, exactly?”

Palmer exuded patience. “Confirmation this is Langley’s operation.”

“Me? An Agency spy? Perish the thought!” Sanhedrin protested.

Palmer’s distrust of the man next to him increased each time he uttered a sentence. “If you say so, Fineghan. What about Monsarrat?”

“I have no clue,” Sanhedrin deadpanned. “We’ve never met.”

In Palmer’s weltanschauung, the most dangerous spooks supplied the glibbest answers. “Yet, you’re here to ransom him from the rebels.”

“Like I said, Mark, I’m a traveling oil gun for hire. I take the shit jobs nobody else wants or can pull off.”

“You’re also a specialist?”

“In my own area of operations.”

Sanhedrin rubbed a smudge of dirt from the toe of his right boot against the driver’s seat. “Tell me about Monsarrat.”

“He’s a big, smart, tough guy.”

“It sounds like you were friends.”

“I wouldn’t say friends,” Palmer corrected. “More like professional associates. I was sorry to hear the rebels took him from the oil rig, but until you called my bosses, I had no brief to go after him.”

Sanhedrin appreciated men with military backgrounds. They accepted their roles without the sturm und drang civilians brought to operations. He prodded the conversation in a new direction. “How many shooters are you holding in reserve?”

“A half dozen with the Blackhawks, a few miles from our destination. If the balloon goes up, they’ll ride to our rescue like Valkyries with rotors.”

“Let’s hope none of us is headed for Valhalla,” Sanhedrin sniffed.

I adore this book! M. A. Richards is a first-time author, but I rank CHOICE OF ENEMIES with the best novels of Martin Cruz Smith and Daniel Silva. The novel is written with passion, excitement, and knowledge – Richards certainly knows the dirty world of government and espionage. His pacing is taut, and his language is a joy to read. His sense of location is superb; I smelled the stench of oil in the Delta and felt the heat of the desert in Namibia. Most importantly, Nathan Monsarrat is one of the most likeable heroes I’ve met. When the novel ended (I read it in 48 hours), I was sad that the adventure was over but thrilled I had discovered Nathan Monsarrat. Also, Nathan’s antagonist, Felix Sanhedrin, is a delicious villain, a manipulative, dishonest, and neurotic full-bodied character. The relationship between Nathan and Felix is subtly drawn by Richards and is one of the most enjoyable aspects of this excellent novel. I grant it five stars and recommend it 100%! By Y. H. Park on January 19, 2016

AMAZON ~ GOODREADS

M. A. Richards is the author of the Nathan Monsarrat international espionage novels.

Born in Lowell, Massachusetts, he received his Bachelor of Arts degree in Theater Studies from Connecticut College and his Master of Arts degree in English from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst.

During a career as a Cultural Attaché in the Department of State that spanned more than two decades, he served in Baghdad, Jerusalem, Lagos, Moscow, Seoul, Tel Aviv, and Washington, D.C. He also served at U.S. Pacific Command in Honolulu as the Special Advisor to the Commander. He speaks Arabic, Hebrew, Korean, and Russian.

M. A. divides his time between Palm Beach and Tel Aviv, where he indulges his passions for motorcycles, photography, and archaeology.

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