C.A. Milson's Blog, page 153
September 17, 2018
VBT – A REASON TO STAY
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Linda Charles will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Rachael, a successful lawyer in Sydney, returns to her foster family and the only place that ever felt like home: Mindalby, to help with the failing family business, the town’s bakery. With the cotton gin’s closure, all businesses are struggling, and it looks like the only option is to close up the bakery and hope to sell. But when Rachael returns, she realises that her skills give her other options: refreshing and revitalising the bakery and a chance to rekindle her love of baking.
Irishman, Mike O’Malley is a staying kind of man, looking to settle down in Mindalby with a woman who loves the wild country and wants to get involved in the community. Rachael is not that girl, but the attraction is hard to deny. Determined to show Rachael that Mindalby can be a home, he draws her out into the community and deeper into his life. But when it comes time to make a decision, can he trust Rachael to risk her heart?
Read an Excerpt
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‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t play ball.’
He hugged the ball close to his chest. He understood that. None of his sisters were into sport either. But, he loved his sports; it was a major part of his life.
‘What do you play then? I’m up for anything.’
She rubbed her hands against the afternoon chill, as her clear blue eyes met his. His heart hammered. They were the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen, and if he wasn’t careful his concentration would take a serious hit, and he’d sound like some daft prick.
‘I’m not very sporty. How did they go?’
Mike shook his head. ‘Another loss,’ he all but whispered.
She gave him a soft smile. ‘Oh, that happens. Are you having a reconnoitre with them?’
His lips quivered, but he couldn’t hold back. He let out a belly laugh.
She’s gorgeous. A one-off.
About the Author:
Linda Charles is a contemporary romance writer who lives in Newcastle in the Hunter Valley, NSW. She was born and raised in Sydney where she studied and taught drama for many years. She loves to read, travel and enjoys a good conversation. Following a move to the Hunter Valley she started to write her own stories. Linda is a member of the Hunter Romance Writers, Romance Writers of Australia, and Romance Writers of America.
You can visit Linda at her Webpage; or follow her on Twitter; Facebook, or Pinterest.
Website: http://www.lindacharles.com.au/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lindacharles167
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Linda-Charles-1009142862442443/
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com.au/lindacharles165/
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Linda Charles will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
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September 16, 2018
Pre-Pub Blast – Darkest Before the Dawn
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About the Author
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Mike Martin was born in Newfoundland on the East Coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand. He is the author of Change the Things You Can: Dealing with Difficult People and has written a number of short stories that have published in various publications including Canadian Stories and Downhome magazine.
The Walker on the Cape was his first full fiction book and the premiere of the Sgt. Windflower Mystery Series. Other books in the series include The Body on the T, Beneath the Surface, A Twist of Fortune and A Long Ways from Home, which was shortlisted for the Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award as the best light mystery of the year. A Tangled Web was released in 2017 and the newest book in the series.is Darkest Before the Dawn.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK
About the Book:
Title: DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN
Author: Mike Martin
Publisher: Ottawa Press and Publishing
Pages: TBA
Genre: Mystery
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BOOK BLURB:
Darkest Before the Dawn is the latest adventure of Sgt. Winston Windflower, a Mountie who finds himself surrounded by a new family and a new life in tiny Grand Bank, Newfoundland. There are signs of trouble that may disturb his pleasant life, including a series of unsolved break-ins and the lack of supports for young people in the most trying time of their lives. But there are always good friends, good food and the sense that if we all pull together, we can find a way to get through even the darkest days.
Ghosts, mysterious deaths, and a new character enliven the pages as Windflower and Tizzard and the other police officers awaken the secrets that have been lying dormant in this sleepy little town. The deeper they dig the more they find as the criminals they seek dive deeper behind the curtains of anonymity and technology. But more than anything, this is a story of love and loss, of growing up and learning how to grow old gracefully. It is also about family and community and looking after each other. Of not giving up hope just before the dawn.
September 15, 2018
Penafrancia Fiesta 2018
Some photos today from the Penafrancia Festival 2018
September 12, 2018
VBT – THE CRYING OF ROSS 128
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The Crying of Ross 128
by David Allan Hamilton
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GENRE: Science Fiction
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BLURB:
America has splintered into various independent republics after a brutal civil war. Against this backdrop, space exploration is on the cusp of new technological breakthroughs. Jim Atteberry, a mid-30s English professor at City College in San Francisco, spends his free time listening for alien signals on the amateur radio astronomy bands. His life as a single parent to his precocious daughter is turned upside-down when he hears an intelligent cry for help from the Ross 128 system and realizes we are not alone. This signal unleashes a chain of events pitting Jim and his brilliant, mysterious colleague Kate against a power-hungry scientist with his own secret agenda. Jim must learn the truth about the signal, the strange disappearance of his wife Janet, and the meaning of true love before it’s too late in this first contact thriller.
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EXCERPT
“How long does it take a subspace signal to travel from Ross 128 to Earth?” he asked.
The machine responded verbally. “Twenty-two minutes, 13.4 seconds with current subspace technology.”
Atteberry recorded the time on his notepad, then looked at the screen. “Is there any history of alien signals coming from Ross 128?”
“Negative. Although in 2017, unknown signals from that system were received at the University of Puerto Rico at Arecibo. They were later dismissed as Terran satellites.”
Ghost signals. That happened sometimes due to the multitude of satellites orbiting Earth back then, and now around the moon and Mars. Signals would bounce and echo off them all the time, like ripples in a pond bouncing off rocks and plants.
“Speculate as to the origin of this signal if it’s a ghost.”
“Ready.”
“Proceed.”
“If the signal is a ghost, it is most likely an artifact of the Second American Civil War circa 2070. The Northern Democratic States and the Confederate States often used ghost signals as decoys to confuse enemy communications.”
So that’s it, Atteberry thought, he’s been chasing old civil war ghosts. Yet the question of subspace remained, and, as far as he knew, neither side in the civil war used the emerging FTL technology. It wasn’t sufficiently developed until after the new republics separated.
“What is the likelihood that these Ross 128 signals are satellite ghosts?”
“0.02 percent.”
“What’s the probability the true source is the Ross 128 system itself?”
“74.8 percent.”
Atteberry leaned forward on his workbench and realized the results were inconclusive. “What’s the probability that these signals are naturally occurring… a pulsar or a quasar for example?”
“Zero percent. The signals are artificially produced with slight variations in pattern frequency, suggesting unknown transmission methodology.”
“Human?”
“Improbable. There are no known humans in the Ross 128 space.”
Atteberry feared asking the next question; he swallowed hard. “Alien?”
“99.8 percent probable.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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AUTHOR Bio and Links:
David Allan Hamilton is a teacher, writer, and multipotentialite. He is a graduate of Laurentian University (BSc. Applied Physics) and The University of Western Ontario (MSc. Geophysics). He lives in Ottawa where he facilitates writing workshops and teaches. When not writing, David enjoys riding his bike long distances, painting, and knitting.
Author Links:
facebook.com/davidallanhamilton/
instagram.com/davidhamilton2561
goodreads.com/search?utf8=%E2%9C&query=david+allan+hamilton
Buy Links:
Amazon.com
kindle
https://www.amazon.com/Crying-Ross-David-Allan-Hamilton-ebook/dp/B07DD7HHKR/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1529416343&sr=1-1
Barnes & Noble
hard cover
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-crying-of-ross-128-david-hamilton/1128831071?ean=9781773705675
paper back
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-crying-of-ross-128-david-hamilton/1128831071?ean=9781773705668
nook
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-crying-of-ross-128-david-hamilton/1128831071?ean=2940155275763
Smashwords.com
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/834220
Indigo.ca
hard cover
https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-crying-of-ross-128/9781773705675-item.html?ref=isbn-search
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
Enter to win a $50 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
INTERVIEW 7
What is something you’ve lied about?
In one of the Star Trek Next Generation episodes, Captain Picard is giving the business to Wesley Crusher about telling the truth. In that show, Picard said, “You told the truth to a point. But a lie of omission is still a lie.” So with that, one of my lies of omission that I carried with me throughout my youth was about my dad. He left the family when I was six or seven, and for some reason, I felt so much shame over that, that I didn’t tell my friends. They’d ask where he was and I’d say, oh, he’s away working or whatever. So I told the truth to a point: he was away working. But I didn’t tell them he wasn’t coming back.
Who is the last person you hugged?
My wife Susan. We were at our son’s graduation from the University of Western Ontario and it was an emotional time, for sure.
What are you reading now?
I read all the time, whether it’s stories from the workshops I run or non-fiction for business or news articles. But in terms of fiction, I’m reading Ted Dekker’s “Obsession” and “Caliban’s War”, from the James S.A Corey Expanse series.
How do you come up with the titles to your books?
Titles are such an important aspect of the writing, so I take a lot of time thinking about different possibilities. I want to capture the essence of the story without giving it away, and also carrying an echo of familiarity for the reader’s comfort. So I’ll make a list of possible titles, then start whittling it down to a few. I rarely ask for feedback on a title unless I’m really stuck which is usually an indication that I haven’t found the right one. Once I land on a title, I’ll live with it for a while. I’ll consider things like whether it’s a metaphor, whether it’s too simple, whether it’s too long or short for the genre. And finally, if I’m still in love with the title after a couple of weeks, I’ll commit to it 100%.
Share your dream cast for your book.
I really enjoyed writing The Crying of Ross 128 and I’d love to see it gain traction with the science fiction reading audience. I feel it strikes a good balance between a focus on the human condition and a near future, first contact conflict. In my wildest dream, I’d love to see the film rights picked up to bring the story to HBO or Netflix and take it from there.
VBT – Three Brothers
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About the Author
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Joerg H. Trauboth (Wikipedia) was born just outside of Berlin in 1943 during an air-raid. He discovered his love for writing early in his career as an officer and was awarded top honors by the General Inspector of the German Bundeswehr. Along the way, he flew over two thousand flight hours as a Weapons Systems Officer and instructor in the Phantom RF4E (in which he survived two critical lightening strikes). After a training in George AFB (CA), Major Joerg H. Trauboth flew the Phantom F4F and finally – followed by another conversion training in Cottesmore (UK) – the Tornado aircrafts. Trauboth became a General Staff Officer in the Military Academy of the German Armed Forces in Hamburg-Blankenese and enrolled as LtCol in the NATO Defense College in Rome. He has served in the German national operational headquarters as well as in the NATO Headquarters in Brussels as the German representative in the areas of Crisis Management, Operations, and Intelligence.
At the age of fifty, he retired early from his post as a Colonel in the German Air Force to become a Special Risk Consultant at the Control Risk Group in London. He was trained and engaged in negotiating extortion and kidnapping situations in South America and Eastern Europe.
The former Colonel, eager to start making money on his own soon founded the Trauboth Risk Management company. He received a startup award and quickly made a reputation for himself internationally as an top-notch crisis manager in Europe. During his time as CEO, he conceptualized crisis prevention strategies for a number of European companies and employed a 24-hour task force to protect them from product tampering, product recalls, kidnappings, and image crises. He was also a co-founder and the first president of the European Crisis Management Academy in Vienna and wrote a standard reference book on the subject of crisis management for companies at risk of threat.
Today Joerg H. Trauboth is an author, filmmaker with more than 75.000 youtube clicks, and an enthusiastic Grumman Tiger pilot. (See this latest night flight-video here. And if you want to know who his favorite Co-Pilot is, have a look here.) The crisis manager and active pilot has served as the European Director and President of the US – based international American Yankee Pilots Organization.
His advice on crisis management is continually sought after and he is present as expert in radio and television interviews regarding his opinion on international crisis situations.
Joerg H. Trauboth has been 53 years married with Martina. They have two sons, three grandchildren, and both live near Bonn, Germany. In addition, Trauboth voluntarily contributes his expertise to the Crisis Invention Team of the German Federal Foreign Office in Bonn and reads from his fiction and non fiction books on readers’ tours followed by discussions with his readers about the dramatically changing world.
Joerg’s latest book is the thriller, Three Brothers.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK | YOUTUBE
About the Book:
Title: THREE BROTHERS
Author: Joerg H. Trauboth
Publisher: Ratio Books
Pages: 581
Genre: Thriller
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BOOK BLURB:
Marc Anderson and his two commando brothers Thomas and Tim are highly respected elite soldiers in the secretive German Commando Special Forces, the KSK. Together with the American Navy Seals, they successfully rescue the crew of a downed American F-15 tactical fighter jet in the Hindu Kusch Mountains under a barrage of heavy fire from the Taliban. However, their next mission – in Northern Iraq – to save two German hostages taken captive by the Islamic State, also known as ISIS, ends in disaster for the three brothers in arms. The perfectly laid-out strategy of Operation Eagle is betrayed, causes Marc, Thomas, and Tim to narrowly escape death. The German Federal Criminal Police Office (BKA) starts the hunt for the informant.
The devoted commando brothers decide to leave the KSK and start a new career together as security advisors with a family-owned company based in Cologne. But the terrorist activities of ISIS continue to determine their fate. The brothers are faced with one of their greatest challenges when ISIS kidnaps company heir Johannes Ericson and his partner Karina Marie. Moreover, the terrorists demand a ransom and extort the German government to immediately suspend its military intervention in the fight against ISIS. It is a race against time to save the couple from assassination.
Joerg H. Trauboth has written more than just an exhilarating novel. Three Brothers unites the current omnipresent threat of terrorism with the author’s first-hand experience as a crisis manager and a military and terrorism expert. The result is an unrivaled political thriller. In this gripping novel, Trauboth foretells possible scenarios for our society in light of the rise of radical Islamic terrorism. Read the full chapter 1 here …
Three Brothers is the English translation of the successful German thriller Drei Brüder (ratio-books), highly appreciated by thousands of readers, as well as military organizations and government officials alike. Jörg H. Trauboth’s storytelling skills can be compared to those of Tom Clancy and similar authors as James Patterson. The German version of the novel will also soon be available as an audio book.
Drei Brüder has been translated into English by (US native) Leanne Cvetan.
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon
Youtube Link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uym8p3rlv0&list=PLGeO_Iw6CFgDpDRmMuqKHUTjqxCeZ-ESP
YouTube Code:
Book Excerpt:
Afghanistan
For the last five hours, a group of six men have been trudging through the dark, barren landscape of the vast Hindu Kush Mountains. The distant howling of a lone wolf accompanies them as does the cold wind, but the men don’t seem to feel the sting.One of them stops abruptly. Marc Anderson, captain of the German KSK Special Forces Commando, raises his hand to his neck and decisively whispers into his throat mic.
“George, I see her. The nose of the aircraft is at eleven o’clock, the tail at two.”
George, the short, wiry Navy Seal One squad leader from Ohio, folds down the night vision lens mounted on his helmet.
For whatever reason, the fighter jet did not explode, but the debris is still smoldering.
“Copy that, I’ll inform Bagram Air Base.” “Charlie Force from Echo Force – over.” “Echo Team – go ahead – over.”
“We found the jet – now searching for the crew – over.” “Roger Echo Team – we’re waiting for your response – over.”
As unorthodox as it is, the Navy Seals insisted on having German elite soldier Marc Anderson with them on the mission. He is one of the few soldiers who knows the area, located deep in the hinterlands of Afghanistan, better than anyone else on account of a number of earlier missions in the region. At only 27 years old, the tall, slender soldier from the southern German town of Calw has already achieved legendary status among the American and British Special Forces. Together with the Navy Seals, he has succeeded in rescuing and retrieving American soldiers from behind enemy lines, securing himself a formidable reputation as both a leader and a team player.
But Anderson refused to do the job on his own: “Only if I can take my commando brothers with me,” he told the commanders at Bagram Air Base. “Only with Thomas and Tim.”
“OK, Marc, agreed.”
The Seals know full well what “Band of Brothers” means. Elite soldiers throughout all the Special Armed Forces are not just comrades, they are brothers. On this mission – the search for a U.S. fighter jet gone missing along with its crew – the Seals have three German brothers. Nationalities play no role, however, only professionalism and unconditional trust. Marc also agreed to the mission since he and George have worked well together on previous missions.
Echo Force, made up of U.S. Seals One, Two, Three, and the German KSK soldiers Marc, Thomas, and Tim, had parachuted in during night. They chose a landing site six and a half miles from the F-15E Strike Eagle’s last known position in the hope of not being discovered by the Taliban. There were no exact coordinates of the crash site. What’s worse, they weren’t able to receive any location transmission from the crew. The pilot had only managed to transmit “No engine – Mayday – May- day – Bailing out!” at the last minute as they lost altitude. A hasty final message, nothing more. Everything seems to have happened very quickly. The crew must have needed to abandon the aircraft immediately, there would have been no time for discussion.
After a successful landing, they spent the next five hours systematically scouring the possible search site of twelve square miles at almost ten thousand feet altitude.
Marc was a true pathfinder in this unwieldy and perilous terrain. The Americans trusted him whole-heartedly, and with good reason, as he proved once again. He immediately found the wreckage of the F-15 in the pitch-dark of night and undetected in this hostile territory. They operate meticulously together, as though they have done this a million times before: Marc out in front, checking the terrain, giving signals, the other five men following, step for step, crouched down, secure, silent. The stillness of the dark magnifies every word and any misstep on the gravel is a potential giveaway for the Taliban.
While George now relays the coordinates to the American intervention force standing by, Marc scans the crash site with his telescope. The F-15 was not shot down but crashed due to technical problems. That seemed clear. However, the crash would have been heard all throughout the Hindu Kush Mountains. It was very possible that the Taliban has already taken the crew captive and were now waiting for the Navy Seals. That’s how it typically happened at least.
“Thomas, please report.” “Left is clear.”
“Tim?”
“Right is clear.”
Slowly, and securing all sides, the spotter team moves toward the crash site.
“I’ll take it from here, Marc.”
“Okay, George, you’re in command.”
George leads the troop within 300 yards of the wreckage. The aircraft’s nose and cockpit are stuck in the ground like a giant arrow. Bent, but incredibly, still intact.
And exactly right there where there’s that tiny patch of earth, he thinks to himself.
“Can you see anyone in the cockpit?” asks Marc.
“Negative, can’t see anything through the glass, but the canopy is missing.”
“Thomas and Tim – the two of you to the wreckage and report back. The rest of you wait here,” whispers George into his throat mic.
The two Germans start to move. Just like the old comedians Ole and Axel, or like Laurel and Hardy, Marc thinks. Thomas, a tall, strapping blonde, built like the Hulk. Next to him, Tim, also in excellent physical shape, only considerably shorter and, who with his signature black goatee, looks like an Afghan.
They cautiously approach the front section of the wreckage on both sides. The rest of the group tensely watches every move their two German brothers make. It is absolutely silent, save for that wolf. The cold wind that tirelessly blows in this region goes completely unnoticed as they all lie on the ground and watch. The night is not just dark, it is black. Pitch-black. No stars shine, no light reflects off the ground. Barren cliffs, a few shrubs, no trees at this altitude. They see only whatever appears in their night vision devices. The little bit of light available is electronically magnified as a green image of the area. They are used to this artificial picture.
“Option one:” says George, “they are still strapped to their seats and then it’ll be a mess. Option two: one of them is still there and the other managed to get out. Or option three: they both made it out.”
“The only question is, why they aren’t answering,” Marc whispers in George’s direction. George whispers back, “which means option one.”
Thomas and Tim reach the nose.
“Thomas on Seal One: no one in the cockpit, ejector seats missing, the crew ejected.”
“Understood, good news, do you see their papers?” They shine a light inside.
From the distance, the three Navy Seals and Marc are blinded as the light from the two KSK soldiers flash in their goggles like bright strike of lightening.
“Maps and a kneeboard,” reports Tim.
“Okay, take that with you. Thomas, you prepare an explosive.”
First Sergeant Thomas Heinrich, a six-foot tall ball of muscle and the explosives expert takes off his 80-pound knapsack which belongs to his profile as though it has grown attached to his back. His comrades have only ever seen him with either a heavy bag or on a bench press. And always with a combat knife under his pillow.
While he lays the explosive, his shorter friend Tim secures the immediate area surrounding the jet. Neither of them speaks a word to the other. They don’t need to. They know each other better than any old married couple. That’s also the reason George sent them to the wreckage site.
In less than four minutes, Thomas prepares the cockpit with explosives for remote ignition.
“Finished, George.”
“OK men, now slowly retreat.”
A few minutes later, the group is complete again. Six men, two nations, one team.
They hide between some boulders and use their night vision devices to establish any other possible reference points. Cliffs, ridges, gaps. Where could the parachutes be? And the ejector seats? At least the seats are big enough to spot, if they are here.
George waves to Marc to come over. “What do you suggest?”
“According to the radar, the F-15 was flying on an easterly course. That means we need to look for the men to the west. The weapon systems operator shot himself out first, so we should be able to find him to the west of the wreckage, but the pilot should be here closer to it.”
George nods in agreement. The person in the rear always activates his seat first, otherwise he runs the risk of getting hit by the seat of man before him.
Marc refers to the digital map with a scale of 1:50,000. Mountains, rivers, nothing else. To these westerners, the unforgiving, cold Hindu Kush Mountain range is a barren and alien landscape.
“I think we should go this way” “Okay, boy scout, you take over.” “Affirmative.”
These standard procedures are the pre-requisites of a functioning team. One man takes the lead and the others confirm. It is the case in the cockpit and is no different in Team Echo Force, currently led by Marc Anderson.
He speaks softly to the group.
“Seals One, Two, and Three, you take the left side. Thomas, Tim, and I will take the right. I will be in the middle. Keep a distance of no more than 30 meters between you. Everyone has contact with his neighbor.”
They disperse.
“In position,” each of them confirms one after the other. They now stand in a line of approximately 160 yards across. Each one by on his own, but they can each see the soldier on either side of them. Their brothers in times of crisis.
Marc looks at his compass, 270 degrees. They start to move. After thirty minutes they reach a long, narrow ridge.
“Down,” Marc radios quietly to the others. They lay flat on the ground. Marc slowly pushes himself against a bare cliff. He lifts his head, weighed down by a heavy helmet, ever so slightly to get an overview. In front of him is an open area with large, round boulders and steep cliffs, interspersed with deep cracks that he can barely make out in the almost non-existent light of night. The white glow he sees above it through his night vision device is the snow at twenty thousand feet.
Marc laboriously searches the area. Nothing. No ejector seat, no parachute. Only this sea of rocks and sparse vegetation. A wretched green world of artificial reality through the lenses of his night vision device.
“We can’t take the straight path, Gentlemen. There is a rift two hundred meters in. The end of the road.”
The group continues westward, securing the way as they go. George suddenly stops.
“Do you hear that, Marc?”
Their radios give off a faint screeching that intensifies and then fades again.
“The distress signal, George! Gentlemen, we have contact!” The troop knows that this is the signal pilots activate upon ejecting and is only transmitted for a few minutes per hour.
“Five minutes past each full hour, that’s right, just as we discussed. That’s our man, George!”
“What’s the bearing, Marc?”
“Eleven o’clock. The source is pretty damn quiet. He must be lightyears away.”
The men of Echo Force can feel their pulse quickening. They’ve made contact with one of the crew! They keep formation and continue their search. They still do not have the location coordinates. Unexpectedly, they are forced to stop. A dark and terrifying 25-feet-wide abyss stretches out before them, like a hungry, open mouth.
The tone of the distress signal abruptly increases its shrill intensity from one second to the next.
Startled, George turns down the volume. “He must be right here.”
“Tim to Marc, I see a parachute in the opening, about 20 meters down.”
“Everyone, round up – go to Tim,” Marc whispers into his mic. “George, you take over!
“Affirmative!”
They crawl over to him, very close to edge of the rift, and shine a light down. They can see something that doesn’t belong there. The remnants of a parachute hanging from the ledges of two cliffs. The laser device measures 23 meters.
There is something else. George gasps as he recognizes it in the green light. Not that someone is hanging lifelessly from the shreds of the parachute, but the never-ending emptiness that continues below. George knows at once it will be a challenge getting that poor guy out of there without him falling completely into the abyss.
“But is he okay?”
He shines his light at the figure. “Are you okay down there?”
“Are you Americans?” answers a weak voice from the depths.
George beams. He’s alive!
“Yes, my friend, we will fly down from Heaven and get you out of there.”
“It’s about damn time! I’m freezing my ass off here!”
He seems to be all right, George thinks and calls into the cavern:
“Did you have to pick this one to fall into?”
“I love rifts, but even this is a bit too big for me!” George proudly looks over to Marc.
“That is one cool dude hanging there. Talks like a real Texan. Let’s get him out!”
George looks at his team. He would likely need two soldiers down there. One to secure against any further falling and the other for the recovery. Navy Seal One knows that Tim and Thomas have the most experience in these kinds of rappelling situations, thus, the German friends are called to take over once again.
“Tim and Thomas, start the descent.”
A few moments later, the inseparable team descend into the darkness of the rift. The Navy Seals secure them from above. Marc and George direct light into the chasm to allow the two as much orientation as possible. But the light is quickly lost in the dark. They need to be careful not to touch the parachute or the straps. Still, the descent lasts less than sixty seconds.
“We have him,” radios Tim.
The Texan is hanging freely. Completely unhindered. There is nothing there he could have grabbed onto to slow down his fall. One false move and the shreds of his parachute would flatter behind him as he fell to his death at the bottom of this seemingly bottomless pit.
Once he had stopped falling, he cautiously reached for his flashlight with a haunting suspicion. A sharp pain in his upper right arm. What was wrong? He touched his shoulder with his right hand.
Intense pain.
Fear.
No false moves!
It took him a while until he finally got hold of his flashlight. What he saw underneath terrified him. He saw nothing.
The beam of light did not allow him to even faintly guess at the depth of the chasm below. It was like the secret entrance to Nirvana. Was it 50 meters, 1000 meters? He would try banging against the wall a few times and then…
Oh, my God…
He shined the light upward. The parachute seemed to be caught pretty good between two sections of rock. He had only gradually been able to convince himself that he can trust the anchoring above him. He talked to his parachute, gently begging it with loving words to hold strong. Something clipped his head. And again. A number of times.
Bats?
Doesn’t matter, don’t move! This damn pain. The cold.
His torso felt like it was dying off under the tension of the straps. Would his rescuers even hear his distress signal?
As he looked up through the narrow window-like opening to the sky and saw a few stars, he started to find hope. They had practiced a rescue mission behind enemy lines a number of times. He knew that the CSAR team must be on their way. And here they are! Thank God! They were able to locate him in this godforsaken rift.
“Nice to meet you!” Tim calls to him and grabs his straps to latch him on to his own. But the Texan can only stare at Tim, whose fuzzy, black goatee sprouts out over the chin strap of his helmet.
“You are not an American, you’re a Taliban!” Tim laughs.
“No, I am your friend Tim from the German Mountain Rescue Team!”
The American looked dubiously at Tim’s face.
Then Thomas joins in. “And I am Thomas, old friend! You can call me Tom, but just for today. Nice place you got here.”
“I’m going to free you now from the parachute,” says the suspected Taliban, “and then I’ll hook you to the elevator going up. Hold on to me. Are you ready?”
The American nods.
He jolts downward and lets out a scream so loud it must have woken up all of Hindu Kush.
“Fuck, something’s wrong with my shoulder, watch out.”
The burly Texan clings to Tim’s slender frame, his face is twisted in pain.
“Thomas on George, dislocated or broken right shoulder. No blood.”
Tim grabs him by the hips and uses his feet and back to repel off the walls of the cavern.
“Let’s go, Cowboy! Bringing you up to mama!”
The three arrive at the top only a few moments later. As Echo Force secures the area behind them, George and Marc welcome the rescued man.
“I’m George, Navy Seal. You are among friends. Are you the pilot or the weapon systems operator?”
“Les Miller, WSO. Have you found my pilot Buddy already?”
“Negative. How much time was there between you each ejecting?
“Two seconds at the most.”
George thought for a moment. Buddy was not at the wreckage, at least not in a direct line with Les.
“Then Buddy must be here in the vicinity. We need to search again.”
“Charlie Force from Echo Force. We have Les.” “Copy that, Echo Force – we are standing by.” “Can you run, Les?”
“How fast do you think you could run after having your balls crushed for the past seven hours?” He casts an eye at Tim: “Watch your Taliban there, I don’t trust him!”
He then pulls a clump of something out of his pocket and gives it to his new friend from the German Mountain Rescue Team.
“What is it?” “Chocolate, Taliban!”
“How’s your shoulder, Les? Do you think you need a shot?”
“Depends on what you plan to do with me. I certainly can’t crawl on the ground.”
Buddy McAllen is not far away. In fact, they almost trip over his ejector seat. The wind fills his parachute, causing it to pull away from the long, slender body of the American pilot and then deflate again. Buddy is shaking. The right side of his head along with his short blond hair is covered in blood. George sees a large dark stain on Buddy’s olive-green flight suit just above his right hip and, underneath him, a rather large pool of dried blood on the ground.
“That doesn’t look good,” George signals to Marc, “he must have hit against that sharp rock in the dark.”
“Buddy, can you hear me?” George jiggles him. Thomas takes a water bottle out of his knapsack and carefully pours a fine trickle of water over his neck. The American does not move. Marc smacks him gently on the cheek and tries talking to him.
“Buddy, we are your friends, can you hear me, you are almost home. I will just take a look at that leg.”
“Charlie Force from Echo Team. We have Buddy – need a medic – ASAP!”
George reads off the coordinates from his mobile GPS and waits for confirmation.
“It’s our lucky day, boys! We have both men, secure radio communication, and Charlie Force will be here in fifteen minutes.”
He looks at Buddy, who is badly hurt, then adds: “But we’ve got a real bad situation here.”
The troop is highly-visible from the front. There is no natural protection. Behind them is a hill with an unobstructed view of them from above. Buddy is sitting out in the open, propped up against a large rock as though he were a Thanksgiving turkey. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been discovered already.
The rest of the squad lays flat on the ground while Thomas attends to Buddy’s wounds. He inspects the deep wound on Buddy’s thigh, dresses it with a compression bandage, and wraps him in a thermal foil blanket. He’s lost a lot of blood and could suffer a circulatory collapse. Thomas is a medic, but Buddy needs more than Thomas has in his first-aid kit.
“His pulse is very low, George.”
“Buddy, don’t fall asleep. What is your wife’s name?” George asks.
Buddy opens his eyes slowly. For the first time. “Linda…my girlfriend.”
“Where does Linda live, Buddy?” “New Jersey.”
George’s face lights up. Buddy is pale, moaning, and breathing heavily.
“Tell her that I love her,” he whispers.
“You can tell her that yourself when you see her at Bagram, Buddy, do you hear? What do you think about that, Buddy? Buddy, say something!”
Buddy looks at George with blank eyes. His lips start to make a shape. George put his ear to Buddy’s mouth.
“Les…is he okay?”
George waves WSO Les to come to him. “Keep him awake, Les, and encourage him.” Les’ brawny stature leans over his pilot.
“Buddy, man, don’t give up, Linda needs you. I need you in our fucking F-15. You aren’t going to leave me hanging, are you, Buddy? How do you want your hamburger when we get back to Bagram, Buddy? How about a big Texas burger with cheese and peppers and Mexican toppings? Do you want mustard on it, or ketchup?”
Buddy opens his eyes again slightly and softly smiles. After all, Les, whom he has been flying with for the past six months just described his absolute favorite dish.
Then his eyes close again. Thomas and Marc nod to each other. His condition is critical. Buddy must get an IV within the next thirty minutes, or that’ll be the end of it.
Tim’s green goggles wander over the horizon from right to left, left to right.
“We are not in a good location, not good at all.”
“We can’t move,” whispers Marc, “Charlie Force is expecting us to be at these coordinates.” Marc additionally scans the area which appears more like the ugly landscape of an alien planet through the infra-red residual light amplifier.
Marc is not interested in the regular green hue of his night vision device. He is looking for a glaring green, the white of clothing, and black. People.
“Oh man, we are not in a good location, not at all. Like sitting ducks,” Tim repeats himself.
Marc shivers.
“Taliban at ten o’clock!”
In the telescope he could see the outline of a group of men approaching. Five, six? They seem to be searching for something and were gradually coming closer.
The faint lull of voices could be heard through the hazy early morning sunrise.
“Charlie Force – Tangos in the area,” George radios quietly to the approaching troop.
“Roger – Five minutes to go – Stay where you are.”
The Echo Force lies as flat on the ground as possible, partially protected by a handful of small boulders. Thomas pulls Buddy down, he groans loudly. It can start at any minute. The Americans are individually equipped with rapid-fire weapons from the Navy Seals’ secret weapons arsenal, the Germans with G 36KA2s. Encounters with the enemy are practiced a thousand times. But it still causes their blood to race through their veins, and their pulse to increase, the adrenaline runs high.
George sees one of the Afghans throw his arm in the air. A sign?
Now loud shouts. More Afghans!
George contemplates when it’s the right time. “Fire only at my command!”
He doesn’t like long-distance fighting. The others don’t either. They all nod to their leader.
“Two tangos at three o’clock, behind the rock, thirty yards,” Seal Two radios.
“Okay, I have him.”
“Four tangos at ten…,” adds Seal Three.
Suddenly, the cracking sound of a missile being shot from a rocket-propelled grenade breaks the silence. It misses Echo Team by only a few feet. George studies the situation. That was close. Really close! A moment later, Taliban fighters abandon their concealment positions and charge the men.
“FIRE!”
The elite soldiers systematically take aim at each individual enemy fighter.
Bull’s eye! A direct hit!
Dark, black blotches appear in Marc’s night vision goggles 20 meters out.
Blood. Blood is black. Aim. POP!
Tango at three o’clock! The information is conveyed through hand signals and head movements.
Precision shots.
Short drumfire. The casings rattle out the right side like a waterfall.
Targets to the front, on the side, upright, crouching, jumping.
Just like in the training room. Only now with short screams. The team acts with clockwork precision.
The distance between them and the enemy fighters is becoming shorter and shorter. There are too many, many too many…
“Gentlemen, they want us use up all our ammunition,” Marc says. But a guy like Marc always has enough.
He, along with Tim and Thomas, are regarded as best sharp shooters in Calw, the hometown of the German Special Forces. And he never wastes magazine cartridges with sustained fire. Even if thirty men were attacking him. That would cause his G36 to overheat and lose accuracy.
Marc does not like inaccuracy.
One of the Taliban kneels against the side of a rock. He’s looking for a target. Through his night filter 80 attachment, Marc only sees the warhead of the bazooka. An ugly, spiked, green tube. About a hundred yards out.
Short artillery fire from the bar magazine. Directly to the head. The Afghan whirls through the air. In the green visor, black blotches. His head is gone.
George nods to him.
He knows that killing people is a very disconcerting legal problem for the Germans. Germans do not shoot to kill suspects. But this is a fight for survival! The rules of engagement are fulfilled – and they are alone among themselves.
Buddy groans and tries to sit upright. Thomas forces him back down.
“He needs an IV, George, or he’s gonna die!”
“Tell him he’ll be on his way home to Linda in five minutes.” Shots scream over their heads.
“Did you hear that, Buddy? We’re gonna be on our way in a few minutes, just hold on. Linda’s waiting for you.”
George and his two Seals fire to the front, the Germans cover the hill behind them.
They are surrounded. It’s getting pretty damn close!
George feels fear creeping up inside of him that his troop won’t make it out of this goldfish bowl. He has no solution. They need help immediately.
“CHARLIE FORCE – ECHO TEAM IS UNDER HEAVY FIRE!” “ROGER ECHO TEAM – WE ARE…”
The sentence gets swallowed by noise. The sound of a helicopter! The most beautiful noise an elite soldier can ask for in a desperate situation. From out of nowhere, two AH-64 Apache attack helicopters appear in the sky over the valley. They are rather more heard than seen. Air-to-ground missiles whoosh out of the missile pods on either side of the helicopters at the small groups of Taliban fighters, followed by bursts of fire from the 30-millimeter aircraft cannon. George’s anxiety from a moment ago instantly disappears now that his fire-spewing dragons have arrived. Special night vision sensor, target acquisition system – don’t look directly at it or you’ll go blind!
A new roar of thunderous noise.
The long silhouette of a monster appears and comes closer. The Chinook transport helicopter hovers heavily some feet above the ground. Rattling bullet fire percolates from the behemoth. Fifty life-saving yards away from the elite soldiers. Each yard is one too many! There are still too many Taliban. The pull of the tandem rotors kicks up stones and dirt in the air.
Why always these huge machines? Marc wonders, I hope this works out.
The leviathan lowers itself to the ground, first landing on its rear wheels, then the front.
It hits the ground, bounces, and finally comes to a halt on the lightly sloping, rocky ground. Charlie Force troops immediately jump out of the Chinook equipped with their night vision devices.
They kneel on one leg and take aim.
The Apaches rotate toward the target like remote-controlled robots to provide Echo Force cover from the fire.
Marc flips onto his back and assesses the situation for the forces. Next comes the most dangerous endeavor among all this pandemonium for them and the helicopters as this is a potentially perfect opportunity for an extraordinary ball of fire from only one of the Taliban rocket launchers.
The three Seals carry Les and Buddy, who in the meantime has lost consciousness, to the Chinook amidst the fire from the Apache helicopters.
Mission accomplished.
The medic rushes to Buddy with an IV and oxygen mask in hand. Buddy now has a chance of survival. Hopefully.
One of the Americans outfitted with a wire waves hectically at the door of the Chinook.
“GET IN, GET IN!”
“TIM, TANGO BEHIND YOU!”
Marc can’t help him. His brother is standing directly in the line of fire.
As sprightly as a cat, Tim shoots from the hip. The Taliban throws up his arms as he falls to the ground. His AK-47 flies into the air like some grotesque circus act.
“Thanks, Marc.”
Tangos on all sides. Echo Force runs, bent over, toward the helicopters.
Look, assess, shoot, new magazine, go!
Each of them secures a radius of sixty degrees.
Six times sixty. No sector is left unsecured. One for all and all for one.
Only more ten yards to the Chinook.
Charlie Force and Navy Seals One and Two are in and give cover to George and the three Germans, with assistance from the two death machines hovering nearby.
Thomas kneels down under the protection of the helicopter and activates the mobile device. In the distance they hear a massive explosive and the entire valley quakes. The echo reverberates for a long time as though the entire Hindu Kush is about to burst.
Mission accomplished.
Anything that was hidden must be destroyed now. The U.S. jet fighter would be reduced to only a heap of metal shards.
“HURRY UP, HURRY UP!” one of the Americans was still waiting in the door of the Chinook, wildly waving his arm. The giant monster is in danger. It wouldn’t be the first time soldiers had to be left behind.
Tim and Thomas make it in with a powerful leap, George and Seal One are right on their tails.
Marc is still on the ground. As always. First his troops, then him.
The monstrous helicopter starts to ascend. George waves to him in desperation.
Marc throws his weapon over his shoulder and sprints to the door, George grabs hold of his arm and pulls him in. Half hanging in the doorway, Marc shoots his last rounds of ammunition in the direction of the muzzle flash from the ground.
The three helicopters with Echo Force and the rescued F-15 crew disappear through the hazy valley.
Seal One proudly slaps his German friend on the shoulder from behind in acknowledgment.
Marc Anderson is currently at the zenith of his career, albeit unaware that his biggest challenge still lies ahead of him and that his luck as an elite soldier has now, as of today, just run out.
September 11, 2018
Book Spotlight – Killing the Rougarou
KILLING THE ROUGAROU by Shawn M. Beasley, Romantic Suspense, 492 pp., $22.88 (paperback) $3.99 (Kindle)
Title: KILLING THE ROUGAROU
Author: Shawn M. Beasley
Publisher: iUniverse
Pages: 492
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Author Shawn Beasley captivates readers with the enthralling saga of
two southern families-the Gauthiers from the South Louisiana bayou
country and the Thomases from rural Texas-and the nightmare that will
ultimately touch them both. In her sweeping and richly evocative novel,
Beasley unfolds two remarkable family histories, populated by
unforgettable, deeply human characters, and then rocks their worlds with
tragedy and true horror. A novel that succeeds brilliantly on many
levels, Killing the Rougarou is, at once, moving and terrifying, tense
and thrilling, while capturing the sights, sounds, and vibrant life of
Louisiana’s Cajun country and Brazos County, Texas.
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon / iUniverse / B&N
Being from South Louisiana, you hear a lot of
folklore. You never actually believe the old tales. You pass the stories on
down to your babies and so on. You never quite believe in them until you meet a
monster. Maybe then, you wonder: Could these stories be true?
It was the Louisiana State fair in Shreveport, October 13, 1972—Friday the thirteenth, for the
superstitious. The sky was cloudless and the weather perfect for a night out.
The lights from the rides twinkled and it seemed they competed with the stars
in the clear sky with their brightness. It was cool and crisp, the temperature
in the mid-sixties. All that was needed to keep warm tonight was a light
jacket.
A handsome family of six were enjoying the sights and sounds of
the fair. They had driven up this morning from Sulphur and would stay at
the Holiday Inn downtown. Matthew Robert Gauthier (pronounced “Go-shay”), the
father of the family, had chosen this hotel because it was rumored the king
himself, Elvis Presley, had stayed here during his Louisiana Hayride days. He
fancied himself to be “the coon-ass Elvis,” and was the only one who did. He
loved to sing and would often sing as loud as he could, mostly off-key. It
drove his family crazy. His wife often joked that Matthew couldn’t sing, so he
had to work in the oilfield. Music had always been in their home and was a big
part of their community.
Matthew almost always had a big smile on his face and a song on
his lips and so if Matthew was singing, he was dancing. It didn’t matter to him
when or where he performed. He truly loved to dance and sing, and if it
embarrassed his kids, well, that made it even better.
Matthew and his wife Jessie had been married for just over
sixteen years and he was still crazy about her. They had four children, three
boys and a girl. The baby girl was his world. He loved his boys with all his
heart, but “the Girl” as he called her, wrapped him around her little finger.
She had them all under her spell. As the baby and only girl child, she got away
with everything and usually all her requests were granted. In fact, the fair
had been her idea.
Louisiana has two state
fairs: one in Baton Rouge (which they always
went to), and this one in Shreveport. She learned of the
fair in Shreveport from school, and
wanted to go up north. As usual, what “the Girl” wanted “the Girl” got! So,
they loaded up the car and would spend their weekend here, in Shreveport, before returning
south to Choupique Bayou.
They had been to the exhibitions, looked at the livestock, and
finally made their way to the midway. Tomorrow they would go to the rodeo.
Matthew loved the rodeo: it was where he first met Jessie. A fleeting memory of
that meeting brought a smile to his face.
Music played through the outdoor speakers that surrounded the
midway. The song playing was “Smoke on the Water” by the band Deep Purple and
was so loud it drowned out the noise from the rides. The smell of hot dogs and
cotton candy was strong near the food trucks parked in a row between the rides
and the games. The games were on both sides of the midway alley and the
carnival barkers yelled for the Gauthier family to try their luck and maybe win
a prize. As they passed through the games, Matthew could sense his boys’
excitement and could barely prevent them from running off to the nearby rides.
The boys were ready to break free from their parents’ supervision and he
enjoyed delaying them. He liked to tease them and it made his day to embarrass
them.
After he dispensed the rules to his boys as to the when and where
of meeting back up, the boys ran off to enjoy themselves. Matthew called the
boys back to give them each some forgotten money.
“Come see, boys!” he yelled to the fleeing trio.
He smiled when he heard them groan. They were worried he might
begin dancing before they could get away. They looked back to see what he could
possibly want. When they turned around, they saw a smiling Matthew as he held
money up for them to see and waved the cash back and forth as if it were a fan.
They grinned back at their father when they realized in their haste to get away
they hadn’t remembered to get money for the rides. Their eyes lit up with
excitement as they each were given twenty dollars from Matthew, and he reminded
them not to be late when they met back up.
“Don’t make me come and find you,” he warned with a serious look
on his face.
They laughed at their father and ran off toward the rides,
thankful they missed his dance moves they knew were soon to begin.
As Matthew, Jessie, and the Girl made their way to the rides for
younger children, Matthew began to dance. Elvis Presley’s hit, “Burning Love”
vibrated through the speakers now and he couldn’t be contained. He grabbed up
his baby girl and adapted his Cajun two-step to the fast beat of the music as
he held his daughter. She laughed while she danced with her daddy and a bright
smile spread across her little face.
The lights from the rides caught the five-year-old girl’s
attention and twinkled back from her eyes. She was beautiful. She was tiny in
stature.
“Tiny but mighty,” her daddy would say.
Her hair was long, auburn, and pulled back in a ponytail. Her skin
was olive-colored and blemish-free. She also had a few light freckles sprinkled
across her nose. She had recently lost her upper-front tooth and lisped when
she talked. She was the spitting image of her mother with one exception: she
had her father’s unusual amber eyes. Amber eyes were also known as wolf eyes,
and as if nature wanted to increase their dramatic effect, they were fringed
with long, dark lashes. Her eyes sparkled brightly and when the dance ended,
she grabbed her daddy’s face and planted a big kiss on his cheek. He put her
down between himself and Jessie and they each grabbed one of her little hands.
“Come on with your daddy, Girl, the frogs are laughing and time’s
a wasting!”
They continued on to find the rides for her to enjoy. She was safe
and loved and right where she wanted to be, with her parents. This night at the
fair would be one of the last happy memories she would have with both of them.
This was the night “the music” died in their home. This was the night her
father lost his smile. This was the night she met the rougarou.
#
He watched them and saw her smile. He knew she secretly smiled for
him. He grew hard as he thought about what he wanted to do to her. She was his.
He would bide his time and follow them. He would take her. They didn’t matter.
It was what she wanted. His breathing grew heavier and his heartbeat
accelerated in anticipation.
Author Shawn Beasley captivates readers with the enthralling saga of
two southern families-the Gauthiers from the South Louisiana bayou
country and the Thomases from rural Texas-and the nightmare that will
ultimately touch them both. In her sweeping and richly evocative novel,
Beasley unfolds two remarkable family histories, populated by
unforgettable, deeply human characters, and then rocks their worlds with
tragedy and true horror. A novel that succeeds brilliantly on many
levels, Killing the Rougarou is, at once, moving and terrifying, tense
and thrilling, while capturing the sights, sounds, and vibrant life of
Louisiana’s Cajun country and Brazos County, Texas.
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon / iUniverse / B&N
Visit us at Pump Up Your Book!
VBT – SHADOWS AND SILKS
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Shadows and Silk Series
(Three Lessons in Seduction/Tempted by the Viscount)
by Sofie Darling
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Historical Romance
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURBS
Three Lessons in Seduction blurb
Lord Nicholas Asquith needs his wife. Too bad he broke her heart ten years ago.
Can he resist a second chance at the love he lost?
When Mariana catches the eye of the man at the center of an assassination plot, Nick puts aside their painful past and enlists her to obtain information by any means necessary, even if it means seducing the enemy agent.
Even if the thought makes his blood boil.
Only by keeping his distance from Mariana these last ten years was he able to pretend indifference to her. With every moment spent with her, he feels his tightly held control slipping…
Can she trust the spy who broke her heart?
Mariana spent the last decade forgetting Nick. Now she has the chance to best him at his own game, an opportunity she can’t resist, even as her view of him begins to shift. Increasingly, she wants nothing more than to seduce her own husband . . .
It’s only a matter of time before mad passion ignites, a passion never convincingly extinguished. A passion that insists on surrendering to the yearning of the flesh and, quite possibly, of the heart.
Tempted by the Viscount blurb
London, April 1825
Lord Jakob Radclyffe left his past behind in the Far East. Or so he thinks until a ruthless thief surfaces in London, threatening to ruin his daughter’s reputation. With the clock ticking, Jake needs the scandalous Lady Olivia Montfort’s connections in the art world to protect his daughter’s future.
Olivia, too, has a past she’d like to escape. By purchasing her very own Mayfair townhouse, she’ll be able to start a new life independent from all men. There’s one problem: she needs a powerful man’s name to do so. The Viscount St. Alban is the perfect name.
A bargain is struck.
What Olivia doesn’t anticipate is the temptation of the viscount. The undeniable spark of awareness that races between them subverts her vow to leave love behind. Soon, she has no choice but to rid her system of Jake by surrendering to her craving for a single scorching encounter.
But is once enough? Sometimes once only stokes the flame of desire higher and hotter. And sometimes once is all the heart needs to risk all and follow a mad passion wherever it may lead.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT (from Three Lessons in Seduction)
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“Unbutton your dress?” Nick repeated. It wasn’t possible he’d heard those words in that order.
“Have you spent a single minute of your life bound within layers of corset, shift, and tightly buttoned dress? Has this ever been required for one of your spy missions?”
He couldn’t miss the scorn in her voice. “Never.”
“Then you’ll have to trust me when I suggest that it’s a bloody fantastic idea for you to unbutton me. You’ve done it before, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t,” he said, his voice incapable of more than a low, gravelly rumble.
She blinked, and a moment passed.
Reason bade Nick exit the room and abandon the entire proposition. Under no circumstance should he close the distance between them and place his hands on Mariana’s body. Paper thin layers of chartreuse silk and muslin between his fingers and her skin wouldn’t be enough.
A few quick steps could carry him to her.
A few quick steps could undo him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links
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Sofie spent much of her twenties raising two boys and reading every book she could get her hands on. Once she realized that she was no longer satisfied with simply reading the books she loved, that she must write them, too, she decided to finish her degree and embark on a writing career. Mr. Darling and the boys gave her their wholehearted blessing.
When she’s not writing heroes who make her swoon, she runs a marathon in a different state every year, visits crumbling medieval castles whenever she gets a chance, and enjoys a slightly codependent relationship with her beagle, Bosco.
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WEBSITE:
http://www.sofiedarling.com/
BUY LINKS:
https://www.amazon.com/Three-Lessons-Seduction-Sofie-Darling-ebook/dp/B074WGWGMK/
https://www.amazon.com/Three-Lessons-Seduction-Sofie-Darling-ebook/dp/B074WGWGMK/
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sofiedarlingauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sofie_darling
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sofiedarlingluv/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY
Sofie Darling will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Q&A With … Sofie Darling
Tell us about you as a person.
I love rap music. Sometimes, I need to co-opt that swagger to get my day started and my creative juices flowing.
If you could hang out with one famous person for one day, who would it be and why?
Bill Murray. For the simple reason that I think he’d be fun.
What’s the story behind your latest book?
I read a historical novel set in early 19th century Dejima, Japan and was fascinated by the setting. Before 1854, Japan was closed to all Western trade with the exception of the Dutch and only on the small, man-made island of Dejima located in the Bay of Nagasaki. It wasn’t long before my half-Dutch, half-English sea captain came to me, and his story began to unfold in my mind, then on paper. And Tempted by the Viscount was born!
What is your writing process?
I’m a plotter. There’s this misconception that plotting is drudgery, but, for me, it’s the opposite. First, I tape together several sheets of paper and draw a line across it lengthwise. Then I grab a stack of yellow stickies and start jotting down scene ideas, snippets of conversation, and whatever comes into my head that will go into the story. When I start arranging and rearranging the stickies on the line—voilà!—the story begins to form. For me, this is the most fun and free part of my writing process.
Tell us about your main characters:
Jake is new in London. He’s been a sailor all his life, but he recently inherited an English viscountcy that he didn’t really want. He has two goals: sort out the estate’s finances and find a wife. Well, mostly a stepmother for his daughter Mina. She has a mixed-race heritage and for her to succeed in English Society, she will need a proper stepmother of impeccable reputation to guide and protect her.
Enter Olivia: with her pedigree, Lady Olivia Montfort might perfectly fit the bill, except she’s a scandalous divorcée and has sworn off men entirely. What she really wants is her own townhouse and complete independence.
When Jake’s past in the Far East surfaces in London and threatens Mina’s future. Jake and Olivia must strike a bargain to help each other.
If your book was to be turned into a movie, who would play the lead roles and why?
For Jake, Michael Fassbender with his arctic blue eyes rimmed with navy. For Olivia, Kirsten Dunst with her cute crooked tooth.
What are you working on next?
Book three of my series, Her Midnight Sin, is now in the hands of my editor, so I’ve started work on book four. Her Midnight Sin will release in April, 2019 and features the world-weary Captain John Nylander and feisty Lady Calpurnia Radclyffe, Dowager Viscountess St. Alban, as they vie against each other for the same Devon country estate. There will be pirates and apple brandy. 
VBT – Taking Control: Rick’s Story
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About the Author
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Morgan Malone is the pen name of a retired lawyer who turned in her judicial robes to write romantic memoir and sexy contemporary romance, which always features silver foxes and the independent women who tame them.
Morgan fell in love with romantic heroes after reading her mother’s first edition of “Gone with the Wind” when she was 12 years old. Rhett Butler became the standard by which she measured all men. Some have met the mark, most have failed to even come close and one or two surpassed even Rhett’s dark and dangerous allure.
Morgan lives near Saratoga Springs, NY with her beloved chocolate Lab. She can be found on occasion drinking margaritas and dancing at local hostelries, but look for her most often in independent book stores and the library, searching for her next great love in tales of romance, history, adventure and lust. When she can’t find the perfect man, she retreats to her upstairs office and creates him, body and soul, for her pleasure and for yours. Remember: love, like wine, gets better with age.
Her recent novel is the contemporary romance, Taking Control: Rick’s Story.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK
About the Book
Title: TAKING CONTROL: RICK’S STORY
Author: Morgan Malone
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 170
Genre: Contemporary Romance
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BOOK BLURB:
Summer on the Jersey Shore and all Rick Sheridan wants is some solitude at his beach house. Then he spots a lean, leggy blonde coming out of the surf and his plans are shot to hell. And the dangerous looking knife strapped to her arm tells him this is no damsel in distress. As a not-so retired Marine, at 51, Rick’s learned that nothing is for certain, plans can spin out of control and shit happens.
Wounded and weary from one too many wars, Britt Capshaw thought a summer at the Shore, hanging out in her family’s beach cottage, would help her heal. And figure out what to do with the rest of her life. Out of the military, disillusioned and distrustful of any two-legged male, Britt’s one love is Alex, the yellow Labrador retriever she rescued from Afghanistan.
Rick and Britt are immediately attracted to one another, but after years in combat, they are wary of letting down their guard, of giving up control. The summer heats up and fireworks are flying between them even after the Fourth of July. But, ghosts from their pasts haunt them and finally bring them face to face with some dark secrets that may destroy the fragile trust they’ve built.
Can Britt trust Rick with her dangerous past? Will Rick be able to let go of the rigid control he needs to keep Britt and himself safe from more heartbreak? These two brave souls fight against surrendering their hearts and finally finding love. Who will win?
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon
Book Excerpt
He stood before the French doors to the deck, with a large mug of steaming black brew cradled in his hands, letting its warmth take away some of the chill that had surrounded him for the last several months. I’m freezing. And it’s not the air-conditioning. It’s my damn frozen heart. Rick pushed the doors open, letting the heat of the sun and the smell of the ocean sweep into his house. He stepped outside, breathing deep, relaxing just a little. Yeah. This is what I need. A summer at the Shore, a few projects, and plenty of quiet—then I’ll be back to my old self. Chuckling as he mentally reminded himself of just how “old” his self was, Rick raised the cup to take a long sip of coffee.
He saw the figure emerging from the waves almost directly in front of his cottage at the same moment he heard the loud barking of a nearby dog.
What the hell?
She was a modern-day Botticelli’s Venus, with the waves foaming around her legs. Long, long legs, lean and tan, disappeared into a bright blue bikini bottom, just visible under the blue and white swim T-shirt that covered a long, muscular torso. Her arms were raised, her hands brushed back sodden strands of platinum blond hair. A swim mask dangled from her left elbow, dropping down into her hand as she lowered her arms. When she stepped from the surf, the woman gave an all-over body shake, drops of ocean water flying off her, glistening for an instant like diamonds in the early morning sun. Then she dropped to her knees so suddenly that Rick lurched forward, splashing coffee as he looked down for a place to leave the heavy mug before he rushed to her aid.
He needn’t have bothered. From the deck of the cottage to his left, a huge yellow dog was bounding down the wooden stairs two at a time in a mad dash to the woman. She stretched out her arms to the animal just before the happy hound collided into her, rolling her into the sand. The woman’s laugh floated on the ocean breeze. Rick straightened, still grasping his cup of coffee and stepped back into the shadows cast over his deck by the second-floor balcony. From his vantage point, he watched the woman ruffle the dog’s fur, the animal prancing and shaking in spasms of pure pleasure. When had he ever experienced such unfettered joy? Rick couldn’t remember. A long, long time ago…maybe.
Who was she? The owners of the cottage next door were an older couple who spent half the year in Florida and half the year on the Shore. Could she be a granddaughter or niece? Or had the couple decided to rent this year? Rick made a mental note to contact his property manager who handled many of the shore homes and make inquiries. He had not planned on having to deal with a stranger; he just wanted some peace and quiet.
The woman and dog were walking up from the water’s edge. Rick eased toward the open doors of his living room, thinking to disappear into the shadows. He just didn’t feel like an early morning encounter with anyone, certainly not the mermaid with those incredible legs who was ambling slowly in his general direction. He stopped suddenly when something caught the corner of his eye. A glint of sunlight on metal. He reached for his pistol, but his waistband was empty. Damn. What is that woman doing with a diving knife strapped to her right bicep? Who the hell is she?
September 10, 2018
Book Blast – The Adventures of Riley and Elfy
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The Adventures of Riley and Elfy
by E. Matheson
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Blurb:
Riley Uist and his sister Elfy are mysterious little Scottish animals. The Uists have lived on faraway Scottish islands since ancient times but nobody knows anything about them. Riley and Elfy live in an underground burrow, with tunnels that go deep down. The walls are lined with little round shiny pebbles that they collect from the beach. These stories are about the adventures Riley and Elfy have with their island friends.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
E. Matheson has a Scottish background and lived in Africa for many years before moving to Melbourne, Australia.
His picture book “Riley & Elfy” (who are imaginary cute wee beasties) is set in the Outer Hebrides, Scotland containing several adventure stories for younger children. Available soon!
BUY LINKS
Amazon Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FCT36V7
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Adventures-Riley-Elfy-Matheson-ebook/dp/B07FCT36V7
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07FCT36V7
September 9, 2018
VBT – Miss Behave
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About the Author
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Traci Highland writes funny books for sassy ladies. She is a graduate of Bryn Mawr College and has a Master’s from Quinnipiac University. She uses this education to write books, bake cakes, garden and make homemade jams. Her children say she’s bossy, her husband says she’s high-maintenance, but the dog thinks she’s perfect.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK | BOOKBUB
About the Book
Title: Miss Behave (The Anderson Family Series Book 1)
Author: Traci Highland
Publisher: Cheshire Lane Press
Pages: 330
Genre: Romantic Comedy
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BOOK BLURB:
She’s great at giving advice, too bad she never takes it…
Piper Anderson wants to be a serious journalist at a serious paper covering serious news. Instead, she’s stuck at the Pendleton Falls Herald, where her massive investigative skills are wasted penning the paper’s advice column, Miss Behave.
Her shot at a meaty story comes when she’s assigned to write up a profile of a local business, Brookes Jewelers. She is determined to write the piece so she can use the article to impress a real paper.
Unfortunately Hunter Brookes, co-owner of Brookes Jewelers and the Pendleton Falls Herald, is rather persistent, in his own hot little way, that the piece should be nothing more than a glorified sales pitch.
But when diamonds disappear, Piper may get the chance to do a real investigation, leading her to confront family secrets and worst of all, turn to her mother for help.
Piper soon realizes that there is more to Mr. Brookes than a tight ass and a ridiculous fascination with name tags. Together they deal with roasted pigs, crazy cat ladies, and gun-toting fashionistas.
In all the chaos, they just might find the one thing that neither one was looking for: true love.
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon
Book Excerpt
Dear Miss Behave,
Last weekend I was at the pool with the children, and there was a woman naked and walking around the locker room.
I hate to be prissy, but to be naked around young children like that just isn’t right. She comes to the pool regularly and I am not the only one who has happened upon her strolling around the locker room without clothes. Now I know there are showers and that people change in locker rooms, but showers should be taken while wearing bathing suits and there are private changing rooms that are clearly marked.
How can I convey to her the accepted rules of decency before any of our children become hopelessly corrupted?
Sincerely,
-Agape at the AquaPark
Dear Agape,
Do please get over yourself. People shower naked. If you choose not to, then I assume you probably smell and your skin is beset by odd rashes.
I suggest that you buy your kids an ice-cream and treat yourself to a margarita. Life is short, darling. Lighten up.
Sincerely,
Miss Behave
