Isabel Roman's Blog, page 29

#BookBlast: Saffron Nights by Liz Everly

About the Author:Liz Everly is a passionate cook, writer, and traveler. Exploring food and romance in Saffron Nights, Liz ombines her lifelong love of action-packed romance with her culinary expertise. She loves to interact with readers. Please follow her on Twitter @Lizeverly1, check out her website  You can also find her on Facebook and blogging. Amazon Page
eKensington:

Liz will be awarding organic saffron and cedar bath gel and handmade soap to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour (US ONLY).

BLURB:
Wherever they travel, there’s an aphrodisiac waiting to whet their appetites…
Brazil…Hawaii…India….As a food writer, Maeve has just been handed the hottest opportunity of her career. She’s being sent on an international research tour for an aphrodisiac cookbook. The downside is that she has to travel with rock star photographer and womanizer Jackson Dodds. And the upside is that she has to travel with Jackson Dodds. Because once they meet, Maeve understands why he’s been named “America’s Most Eligible Bachelor”—and despite her best intentions, all she can think about is putting their arousing recipes to the test…
Sexy and talented, Jackson can have any woman he desires. But lately, the thrill is gone—until he lays eyes on Maeve, who exudes sensuality like no one else. She’s determined to keep things professional, but he knows the attraction is mutual. And as they travel the world, sampling warming saffron, juicy papaya, silky avocado, rare herbs and teas—and a mushroom whose very aroma sends women to heights of ecstasy—both discover a hunger they’ve never known, and don’t want to resist, even amid unexpected danger…


Excerpt:

“Hard to imagine these ugly little truffles are so delicious,” she said to Jackson, as they walked toward the villa.

“Better than the jellyfish?”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. I was surprised I like them,” she said. Mr. Mei Lei had carefully prepared jellyfish for her dinner on her last evening in Hong Kong. They weren’t fishy at all and she loved the golden-ink color of the gel and the way it felt, so smooth, on her tongue, all the way down into her throat.
“I’m surprised you remember how much I liked the jellyfish,” she said.
“Why?” he said, tilting his head just so and she imagined tilting her head the other way, just so. Lips on lips. Tongues twirling. The memories of their kiss tugged at her.
“I just didn’t think you were paying attention,” she said.

“You’d be surprised what I see when it looks like I’m not paying attention,” he said, moving closer to her. She could see, now, the faint pink tint around his nose and lips from the cold. He grinned. Don’t do that, don’t look at me like that while I’m trying to work. Don’t look at me as if you know exactly what I’m thinking, as if you know exactly what to do with all these body parts standing at attention, tingling.
She looked away at the resting dogs.

Blast: Wind's Aria by Tessa Stockton

About the Author:
A veteran of the performing arts and worldwide missions, Tessa Stockton also contributed as a writer/editor for ministry publications, ghostwriter for political content, and she headed a column on the topic of forgiveness. Today she writes romance and intrigue novels in a variety of genres. In addition to her fantasy romance, WIND’S ARIA, she’s the author of suspense/thriller, THE UNSPEAKABLE, political intrigue/romance, THE UNFORGIVABLE, and a literary short story, LOVE AND LULL, with more in the works. WebsiteTwitterFacebook

Tessa will be awarding a $50 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter during this tour and her reviews tour.

BLURB:

Aria falls into the hands of the dreaded angel who seems to have stolen more than her voice . . .


Excerpt:

“Who are you?”



He pushed further back into the shadows as she strode closer. “Someone you need not know.”



“What’s that supposed to mean?”



When he didn’t answer, she sighed.



“What a strange, terrible day,” she mumbled. “Well, at least tell me your name . . .”



He stood, speechless, knowing he shouldn’t be there at all—conversing with a Meleyan—especially not their musical deliverer that he was set to doom the day after tomorrow.



A peculiar grumbling interrupted her insistence, to his relief.



“Sorry.” She patted her stomach. He could see, even in the blackened night, how her face turned a deeper shade of red than her hair. “I’ve forgotten to eat. I guess I’m hungrier than I realized.”



He plucked an apple from the tree he’d nearly become a part of and held it out to her. The girl approached tentatively. She reached for the fruit but recoiled when her fingers brushed his.



“Is touching me so horrible?” he asked.



Her jaw dropped open and her delicate brow furrowed. She inclined her head. “It . . . hurt.”



“How?” he asked, for her fingers felt good to him, soothing. Warm. He wanted to try again.



“I don’t know how to explain . . .”



“Hum.” Unsatisfied with the answer, he tossed the apple to her and watched as she crunched her teeth into it.

Where to Buy:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Soul Mate Publishing

Revenge of the Mad Scientist and steampunk fun

About Lara:
Lara Nance grew up and lived in many cites throughout the South. She loves to write in a variety of genres, but the basis of all of her stories is a great tale that will take you on an adventure of imagination.
If you want to escape and lose yourself in a novel, you've come to the right place. Choose your genre and settle in to be entertained. From thrilling mysteries and steampunk tales, to paranormal romance and adventure, she's willing to explore a variety of compelling stories full of danger and suspense, along with a touch of romance.
Having been on the fencing team in college and now living on a sailboat convinces her that she was a pirate in another life, or possibly kin to Errol Flynn… However, due to the unfortunate demise of the romantic pirates of the past, she lives out her fantasies, thrills and adventures in her stories. Lara loves to weave interesting true historical tidbits into her fiction which invite the reader to explore further after the novel is finished.
Currently docked in Norfolk, Virginia (until the wind changes) Lara enjoys living on her sailboat and spends time reading, of course writing, indulging a variety of artistic endeavors, cooking and sailing with her husband, Joe and their Yorkie, Rio.
Find out more at her website, Twitter, and Facebook.

Lara will be awarding an autographed original map of Arabella's steampunk world to a randomly drawn commenter at each stop, and a $50 Amazon gift card and an original steampunk necklace to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

BLURB:
Arabella is convinced the more sinister nation of Carabarras is to blame, urged on by a mad scientist seeking revenge. So, she sets out on a perilous airship journey across a variety of exotic locales to save him, and halt the potential world war.
But airship pirates, secret assassins and slave traders aren’t her only trials. The fickle hand of fate has made the captain of the only airship available for charter, the man who left her at the altar. For eight years she's wished him dead. Now he's her only hope. 

Excerpt:
Another scream sounded and then another. A group of people blocked her view and she didn’t hesitate in pushing them aside. She gasped when she reached a body sprawled on the floor and noted a trail of red blood tracking from a side room. She recognized the injured man as Conrad Bellows, her father’s assistant. Horrified, her champagne glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the marble.
She pushed another man out of her way. What the hell was wrong with everyone standing around like statues while a man needed help? She knelt at Conrad's side. A knife protruded from his back but when she put her fingers on his neck she found him still alive, thank God. He struggled to his side and blinked as he looked up at her.
“Gone,” he whispered. “So…sorry, My Lady…gone.”
“Who is gone, Conrad?” She put a hand on his shoulder as panic shot through her.
“You’re, fa, fa, father…they took him.”
“What? Who took him?”
“Ahh, all in black, don’t know…” He closed his eyes and then slumped on the floor, unconscious.
Belle sucked in a sharp breath. She jumped to her feet and spun around. “Someone call for a doctor and help Mr. Bellows. Where’s my father?”

Where to buy Revenge of the Mad Scientist:Amazon
Barnes and Noble

Joyce Proell, her bucket list, and her novel Eliza

Hello. Thank you for having me here today.
Thanks for stopping by, Joyce! Now, onto the interview...
Some thoughts on my bucket list… I’ve been asked to reveal the top three items on my bucket list. It may surprise some to know I don’t have such a list. Since I’m getting to be ‘of a certain age’, this request is rather timely and gives me the opportunity to consider a few things. Hmmm. What to pick?
Of course the first and obvious choice is travel. I’ve never been to France. Since I studied French in high school and college and have always wanted to visit, I’ll put France on the list.
Hmmm. Now what?
I want to publish ten more books. To that end I will continue to write daily. Perhaps the biggest payoff to all this labor will be preserving all of my mental faculties until the day I die. I can only hope.  
Okay, that brings me to item three on the bucket list. This is really tough. Could it be I’ve already done almost everything I wanted to do in my life? Is that a good thing or something to worry about? Let’s see…I’ve gotten married, raised a wonderful daughter, had a successful career, shopped to my heart’s content, driven luxury cars and lived in beautiful houses. In truth, I’m not a person that ever wanted much beyond the basics of home, family and interesting work. Yet I’ve been blessed with the resources to do much of what I wanted whenever the fancy struck.
So what about that last item on the list? Maybe this one shouldn’t be about me. Maybe I need to think about doing something for someone else. I have two elderly parents. It would give me profound pleasure to see that the last years of their lives are comfortable and enjoyable. So, item number three on the bucket list will be doing whatever is possible to see this dream come true for them.  
Some thoughts on my best vacation ever… Isn’t every vacation the best vacation ever? When thinking vacations, thoughts of National Lampoon’s Vacationmovie came to mind. If you’ve seen the comedy, you know the Griswold family battles all sorts of obstacles and disappointments. But in the end, they make it to Walley World, their big dream, all smiles and happiness.
This movie reminds me of standing in a long queue at Disneyworld, under a scorching Florida summer sun, waiting to ride the twirling teacups. Then there was the time my husband and I drove like maniacs through Florence, Italy, in hopes of making an appointment at the Uffizi Museum. This occurred a few years before GPS, and we didn’t have a map. We were a mess by the time we stumbled upon the place.
Despite all the minor challenges of a vacation—of losing one’s way, of car problems, cranky kids, bad weather, unexpected health issues and cancelled flights, my family, friends and I always reached our intended destination, whole and happy and ready for a good rest.  
 As to the very best vacation? What can compare to sitting on a high bluff in Kauai and watching the sunset; or listening to the lonely foghorn in Bodega Bay; or trekking through a field of wildflowers in the Sierras; or discovering some fascinating piece of history in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London?  But the best vacations are the ones shared with family and close friends.

So here’s to great vacations. I’ve loved each and every one.   Thanks for having me here today. Happy reading!                                                                        Joyce 

Joyce will be awarding a $10 Amazon or BN.com gift card to a
I laughed when my husband suggested I write a book. Me? What did I know about writing? Yet the notion held possibility, so I hatched a plan. A year later, I sent off my first completed manuscript and promptly received a score of polite rejections. Bruised but undaunted, I forged ahead, new plan in hand. Later, armed with the knowledge acquired from writing classes, seminars and the help of fellow writers, I finished my second story. Eliza is that story.  

A little more info…I grew up in Minnesota. In college, I studied psychology and earned a master’s degree in Social Work. After living in Chicago, Minneapolis, Portland and Reno, my husband and I make our home only miles from where I grew up. I worked in the field of mental health as a psychiatric social worker, administrator and later settled into private practice. Retired at a reasonably young age, I write full time. I’m an avid reader, a foodie and cook, a crossword puzzle fanatic and a daily walker.
LINKS:http//:www.joyceproell.comhttp//:www.champagnebooks.comhttp://www.amazon.com/Eliza-ebook/dp/B009JXJSQ6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1351426590&sr=8-1&keywords=eliza+joyce+proell 

BLURB:  
A husband who wants you dead is the greatest motivation for change.
Posing as a widow, strong-willed Eliza Danton flees her marriage determined to bury the past and live a solitary life. Traveling by riverboat to the Minnesota frontier, her flight turns perilous when forces threaten to expose her deception. With problems mounting and her trust shattered, she is forced draw upon her only resource, a man whose captivating presence rocks the very foundation of her well laid plans. But love flourishes even in the toughest of times and when you least expect it. 
Attorney and contented loner, Will Heaton hides his tender heart behind an elusive facade. Grief is nothing new to him having lost a wife and child. But when a pretty widow thrusts a baby into his arms, he’s hooked. When he sees Eliza harassed by the same man he believes killed his wife, Will grabs at the chance to redress past mistakes and vows to keep her safe. 
Excerpt:  

Elizabeth Douglas couldn’t think of a better incentive than a husband who wanted her dead. Thus inspired, she packed a bag, changed her name and now gripped the handrail of the Northstar as it shimmied up the Ohio. Despite the warm air, she shivered. Abe would look for her as certain as the glistening blades of the paddlewheel churned the muddied water. When a man loses his greatest possession he himself becomes possessed. 

‘If you ever leave me, I’ll kill you,’ he’d promised.
She didn’t intend to die, at least not yet. 
“Mrs. Danton!”
Startled to hear someone call her new name, she spun toward the voice.  She brushed a hand over the black silk crepe of her widow weeds, loathing the dress and the deception.
Against a backdrop of Pittsburgh’s receding factories Reverend Vernon Deeds minced around the thinning crowd on the ship’s deck. One arm clutched a chubby baby to his chest the other hand tugged a small lad behind him. Flushed, Vernon dropped the boy’s hand and pulled a crisply folded handkerchief from his coat pocket. He mopped his beaded brow. “Who would have thought June could be so muggy?”

#Review: Bird Brain Books by Emlyn Chand

Today I'm reviewing children's books. As anyone who has read this blog in the past knows, I enjoy reading just about anything. I don't know if these are e-book only, I did read the epub version, but the stories are worth checking out.

The illustrations are exceptional, full color, and beautifully done. The stories are for early readers, beginning chapter books. I feel they're best read with the child, because who doesn't love reading to children? Plus there's a lot to grasp here--the child will take away certain themes and thoughts from the stories, but there is a deeper level that I think the adult will enjoy.

These books aren't simplistic, nor are they heavy-handed morality books that I'd never be able to finish! Rather, they're well written stories that take ideas we're all familiar with and treat them with care; not cliche, not ho-hum, but new takes on the tales we embrace.

About Emlyn:


Emlyn Chand emerged from the womb with a fountain pen clutched in her left hand (true story). When she's not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm Novel Publicity. Best known for her Young Adult novels, she is also developing a small, but devoted, following to her children's book series and is beginning to dapple in other genres as well. Emlyn enjoys connecting with readers and is available via almost every social media site in existence. Visit EmlynChand.com for more info. Don't forget to say "hi" to her sun conure Ducky!


Website &Blog
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads

Emlyn will be awarding a $25 Amazon Gift Card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

Honey the Hero


Honey, an inquisitive young parakeet living in the Australian Outback, decides to become a superhero after she spies a human family watching Superman. Since she already has the power of flight, all she needs to do is create a costume to conceal her true identity and then fly off in search of animals that need rescuing.


Unfortunately, every time she tries to help, Honey only ends up making matters worse. She spoils Kangaroo’s game of hide-and-go-seek by revealing his hiding place to Wallaby; Mr. Anteater must go hungry when she alerts the ants to his presence, and Mrs. Koala is made a laughingstock among bears when Honey pretends to be her Joey. Finally realizing that she’s not as heroic as she’d like, Honey gives up her day-saving efforts.


But what happens when someone actually needs Honey’s help? Will she rise to the challenge?
Review: What you have here is a bird superhero. Let's face it, superheros are hot no matter how old the child--or the child's gender. And a female super-heroine who likes to help? Neatness all around. I think the major themes of this story would be more appreciated by the parent/guardian-but its stories where both the adult and the child come away with something that make the story worth it. So while the adult can easily see the helping, the fitting in, the wanting to be someone themes, the child will see what it's like to help and be appreciated for it.

Davey the Detective


Davey dubs himself the luckiest crow in the entire world when he finds a wonderful, shiny object. It even has a fantastic name: “paperclip.” Wow!
 
One dark and dreary day, Davey’s treasure goes missing, and he is beside himself with grief. Luckily, he knows just how he can find out which of the forest animals is to blame for the theft. Inspired by the torn pages of a Sherlock Holmes story that were used to fashion his nest, Davey calls on the help of Sarah the sparrow to investigate the mystery and, hopefully, retrieve his prize.


Together the two birds begin to collect clues. Their trail leads them straight to Mr. Bushtail, a greedy squirrel who keeps a giant store of objects in a hollowed-out tree trunk. When Mr. Bushtail refuses to cooperate, the two birds have no choice but to break into his tree house in search of the truth.
Justice will prevail and treasure will be found in this intriguing tale of mystery.  
Review:Crow meets Sherlock Holmes, hires on Dr. Watson. Following a trail of clues, solving the mystery with facts not accusations, and finding the missing item; it's all about seeking the truth-- for kids. Perfect.
Poppy the Proud


Poppy is the prettiest peacock in the entire garden, but one day his privileged existence is upset when an all-white peacock is born and promptly named the most beautiful by a smitten flock. Intensely jealous, Poppy no longer knows where he fits in and decides to reclaim his title as the fairest bird in all the land, no matter what it takes.


In a desperate attempt to regain the admiration of his peers, Poppy steals items from the humans that visit his park. He wraps himself in a beautiful silk scarf, wears a series of ornate bangles around his neck, and even tries to dye his feathers with colored dust from a festive Holi celebration. Unfortunately, each of these attempts not only fails to improve his appearance, they actually make it worse. What’s a poor bird to do?


In this compelling tale of self-esteem, pride, and learning what makes each of us special, Poppy the peacock discovers that true beauty lies beneath the feathers.


Review:
It's all about attention, and each of us can relate to that, child or adult. But it's also about accepting others, and poor Poppy has to accept that before he can understand his own specialness. Yup, another lesson for children and adults.




Tommy goes Trick-or-Treating


Tommy is a mischievous little woodpecker who loves to fly to the edge of the forest and watch the people in the nearby suburb. One evening, something strange and exciting happens—people emerge from their houses wearing costumes and carrying colorful buckets with smiling faces on them. What’s even crazier is that they shout a special codeword while standing outside of each house, and are given delicious-looking candy.


Tommy simply must join in the fun. He and his friend, Michael the raccoon, fashion their own costumes and head off to join in the festivities. Thanks to Tommy’s knock-knocking beak and Michael’s quick paws, the duo is able to heist many a candy bar from the unsuspecting homeowners and children.


But are they missing out on the true spirit of Halloween?
Review:The phrase "Don't be greedy" would be apropos here, but maybe a little strong. The story isn't that heavy handed, which is what makes all these stories worth reading. I hate those bang over your head types of stories! Once again, Ms. Chand has brought an interesting story with a two-fold theme that is sure to catch the attention of child and adult alike.

Courtney Saves Christmas
Courtney is a peppy young penguin who just loves exploring, and is overjoyed when she receives a compass from Santa on Christmas morning. She’s so grateful for the gift, in fact, that she just needs to give Santa a great big hug and say “Thank you!” in person. The only problem is she lives in the South Pole, and Santa is all the way on the other side of the globe!
With the aid of her new compass, Courtney sets off on a journey that takes her almost an entire year. By the time she reaches Santa’s workshop, the elves are in a flurry preparing for the upcoming holiday. Unfortunately, Rudolph is feeling very sick—too sick to guide the sleigh. If Courtney can’t find a way to help, Christmas will be ruined and all the children of the world will be devastated. What’s a little penguin to do?  
Review:
Who doesn't love helping? Saving the day? Just like Honey the Hero, Courtney is called up to step in. And why is a penguin in the North Pole you ask? Because she received a beautiful Christmas gift and just had to thank Santa--how thoughtful is that? When do we take the time to say thank you, let alone travel so far to do so? Lots going on here...

Dieting week 1

I have done it and started a get fit and healthy kick this year. I am just off my first week of trying to retrain my brain to eat healthier and exercise a bit more. I have indeed lost weight my first week and I am thrilled but I also know that the pounds I lost could come back on with a vengeance if I am not vigilant. So I am taking this weight loss victory with temperance. Yes, I am happy but I also know I have a long road ahead of me; and this week has not been easy at all.
So I’ve decided to take you guys with me on this fitness adventure and share what tips, strategies and recipes I learn along the way. Wednesday will be my fitness blog day but worry not all the other days we will still have our guests, posts on romance and general tidbits as always.
So let’s get fit!
The first thing I did was something I had resisted for years, and that is to keep a dietary journal. Instead of a traditional journal I downloaded an app where I can plug in what I eat throughout the day and I have to say it has proven handy. Sometimes I eat things without realizing what the calories are; for instance I’d consume a handful of chips or pretzels and not count them in my daily intake.

That was wrong; every calorie counts and they should be hard working calories. After all, we are all hardworking people at our jobs, our homes, it is even work to keep up with friends at times so why shouldn’t our calories work just as hard

Be smart about what you eat, and remember to eat something that is worth it! I'm trying, it's not easy but I'm trying!

Maggie Thom, her bucket list, and new release, Captured Lies

Hi, Maggie and welcome!

I love the idea of a bucket list but it's really not just about creating one it's about doing it too, right? There are a number of things that I want to accomplish in my life, several I've already done and some I truly hope to one day. 
Here are three things that I'd like to do in my lifetime:1. Go on a Safari. I think Africa is an amazing country and I would love to see the place up close and personal - the animals in their natural habitat, the landscape, all the different types of nature, the people... love it. What an adventure it would be. It has been a fascination of mine for a long time, so hopefully... 
2. Fly in a Helicopter. To be honest almost anywhere would do but there are a few places I'd really love to fly over - the Rocky Mountains, the Grand Canyon and as close to Mount Everest as I could get. I know that flying up Mount Everest sounds like cheating for all those brave enough and determined enough to climb it, I love hiking but that's out of my range, but I sure would love to see it. I've done a lot of flying in an airplane and love it but never in a helicopter. 
3. Bungi jumping. This one freaks me out the most but it is something that intrigues me. Lots of people seem to be doing it these days, at all ages, so it's almost not a big deal anymore. I think I'd like to do it outdoors off of a bridge where you free fall over a river. I first have to find someone who would go with me to do this. They don't have to jump, although that would be good too. Sky diving used to be ahead of this but as someone once said to me, why jump out of a perfectly good plane? :) I still think I want to try it though.
What's on your bucket list?

Maggie will be awarding winner's choice of a $20 Amazon or BN gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, so make sure you comment!

BLURB:
She was kidnapped not once but twice and now someone wants her dead because of it....
Her life was a lie!
Bailey knew her upbringing wasn’t normal but she’s worked hard to stabilize her life. At 29, she finally has a good business, a stable home; her life is miles from that of her childhood. Then suddenly her mother dies, leaving a gaping hole and a discovery that they may not even be related. If Guy, the private investigator is to be believed, her life is a lie. Using the skills she learned on the streets, Bailey travels back through a sketchy and dangerous past, to find answers. Dodging bullets, staying ahead of those who want her dead and convincing Guy she can do it alone, are making it difficult to discover not only the secrets of her mother’s past but that of a family claiming she is theirs.
Everyone seems to have a story... but who’s telling the truth? And who wants her dead? Is Guy part of the solution? Or part of the problem? To discover the facts, she’ll have to untangle a web of deceit, lies, and secrets, dating back over thirty years.
But can she do it in time.....
Excerpt:
The voice came over the speaker. “We’re experiencing some turbulence. Everyone please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
Mary looked out the window. Gray clouds, low-hanging and heavily laden, filled her view. Lightning streaked by, followed by a loud rumble. The plane jerked and shuddered.
Passengers screamed and shouted. The stewardesses flung out instructions as they raced down the aisle, checking on everyone. “Please remain calm. We’re going through some rough weather. Stay seated and ensure your seatbelts are secure. Put your tray tables in the upright position.” The instructions were thrown out so fast they were almost incomprehensible.
More booming and cracking shook the plane like it was having a grand mal seizure. The aircraft dropped, nose down. They were descending. Rapidly…too rapidly. The stewardesses swayed and scrabbled, grabbing seats, staggering as they pulled themselves down the aisle heading to strap themselves in. The plane bucked. People screamed.
Mary slammed forward, smacking her head on the seat in front of her. The baby shrieked terror. Mary forced herself back, glancing at the infant in her arms. “Shh, baby. Shhh. We’ll be all right.”
Papers flew around like frantic birds despite her seatmate’s attempt to catch and hold them. Ignoring him, she looked out the window. The sky was a blur of ominous black lit up to a gun-metal grey every now and then by a flash of lightning. She wasn’t sure what dropping out of the sky looked like but she figured this was it. 


Maggie Thom made the hard decision to leave her successful, twenty year career in management, to write full time. The leap was easy, the freefall was adventurous and very enlightening. When she’s not running her children around or spending time with her best friend, her husband, she’s writing - anywhere, anytime. Give her five free minutes and you’ll find her busy scribbling down ideas. She lives in the real world but loves to get lost in the lives of her characters - who live, love and laugh and are all figments of her imagination. She is thrilled to release her first novel - Captured Lies - filled with suspense, murder, mystery and romance - available October 2012. She is busy writing her second novel to be released, spring of 2013.  
She can be found at: www.maggiethom.com www.facebook.com/authormaggiethom www.twitter.com/authormaggiethom2 http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6549592.Maggie_Thom
Book is currently available through:AmazonKobo

New Year--New #Goals

I've left writing for far too long, 2013 is the year I'm going to step up my writing. No more putting it off, no more doing other things.

Romantic suspense: police, Texas Rangers, FBI, and hot lovin' what more is there?

J.M. Anton and her new release, Fateful Waters

Today my guest is J.M. Anton
1. At any given time do you work on only one story at a time and maybe plot out the next one or are there many ideas racing around your head?
        With the New Year fast approaching I am waiting for the release of the print version of the second in my “Backyard Horse Tales.” The novel on tour “Fateful Waters” was released as a paperback this past October. At the moment the next adult novel is near completion, however there are four other works in various stages of development. Every now and then I hit a wall with one story, so I leave it for a while and work on another. Ideas come faster than I can type.


2. Is there a genre you haven't written in but would like to? Or wish you could write in?
        Recently I had an inspiration for a science fiction novel. This is a new genre for me, and it is only roughed out at this time. I’ve written and published children’s books and adult romance books, but may try to go YA with this one. I’ll just have to see how it goes.


3. Do you add an element of romantic suspense in your stories? If so, how difficult is it to maintain the integrity of the mystery?        The books that I have always enjoyed reading have an adventure, or mystery component to them, and I always try to incorporate that into my stories. Surprise endings are great too. Can you find romance in the midst of upheaval, threats from sinister forces, or life threatening events? All stories involve human relationships, and I think the integrity of the story can be enhanced by a romantic element. I more often start with my hero or heroine and see what kind of story fits their character.   4. Say you have unlimited funds: What kind of writing office/cottage would you create for yourself?        I am pretty content with my workspace, a converted bedroom, but if funds were not a consideration I might go south for the winter. That winter refuge would over look a lake where the pelicans, and other water birds play.
5. If you could turn your novel into a TV show, which novel or series would you do? Where would it be set? Network TV (ABC, NBC, CBS), Cable (AMC, BBC, Lifeitme) or Premium Cable (HBO, Showtime, Starz)?        That is a tough question, but for “Fateful Waters” it would have to be Lifetime. I think the story would fit in with much of their programming.
6. Finally, tell us about your latest release!                “Fateful Waters” Follows two young women who make a road trip following their college graduation. One has met a man on an online matching service and is intending to spend part of the summer with him. Fate steps in and on arrival to the draught stricken Texas Panhandle they become separated. Lexie is rescued from drowning by a tall Texan who takes her home with him, and that is where the fireworks start. Flash floods, wildfires, and criminals all take their toll on the young women in very different ways. Can they survive in this hostile world, or will they head back to the shores of Lake Erie leaving Texas in their wake? Pick up a copy of “Fateful Waters” and find out.
                Save 10% at the book web site http://www.fatefulwatersbyjmanton.comjust add the coupon code on page 2 of the site at checkout. E-books are available at Smashword, Amazon, barnsandnoble.com and other e-reader points of sale.

 J.M. will be awarding a $25 BN.com gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, so don't forget to comment!

BLURB:  
            Follow Melinda Potter and Alexandra Parker, across the country, as the friends travel from their home on the shores of Lake Erie to the drought-stricken state of Texas. After graduation from The Ohio State University, Melinda has a date with an online Romeo. Lexie, who is supposed exert a moderating influence on her impulsive friend, winds up in a hospital where she wakes to everyone calling her Mrs. Ross.  She doesn’t have a clue how she got there, or who Mr. Ross is.
Excerpt:

“About time you got here!” She let her frustration out on the hapless deputy when she yanked open the front door. He’d made the trip out in slightly over an hour, traversing still mucky roads. To her impatient mind, she’d been pacing David’s house for an eternity waiting for the deputy’s arrival.


 Melinda fought for control, placing her shaking hands in her lap. After relating the events of the evening before, she retrieved another tissue from her handbag to stem the overflowing tears .
 “When did you last hear from your friend?”
 “Lexie called me about six thirty yesterday to ask for additional directions.”
“And did you give them to her?”
“Not exactly. I’m not familiar with the area, or very good at giving directions. David wrote down the directions, at our hotel suite yesterday, that we left for her before coming out here. When she called he gave me directions to adjust her route. David said she was only about a mile from his place.”
“Why didn’t he just talk to her and give her the new information to adjust her route?”
“Lexie doesn’t really like David, and he knows it. He tried to talk me out of extending an invitation for her to join us.
“I’ll look into this, and let you know if your friend or your vehicle turn up.”
“Deputy Boyd, could you drop me off at the hotel in Lubbock? I’m kind of stranded here, and maybe Lexie has returned to our suite by now.”



Book Web site: www.fatefulwatersbyjmanton.com10% Discount Code 1DepCart0 at checkout.
“Backyard Horse Tales” web site:  www.backyardhorsetales.com10% off code 1DepCart0 

 


About J.M.:
Jackie. Anton is the author of Backyard Horse Tales: Sox 2nd Edition recepient of the prestigious Mom’s Choice Award. She makes her home in Northeastern Ohio.

Mother of two adult Children and a Grandmother she and her husband of forty-one years live on a small farm in Medina Township. As author of the family friendly series Backyard Horse Tales (readers age 8-adult) her adult novels are written under the pen name J.M. Anton.

An avid horseperson she and her husband continue to ride daily. She loves a good mystery as well as working out the day-to-day struggles and complexities of human relationships. Find out more about the author on her blog “Writing for readers in a .com world. http://jackieanton.com

Joan Hall Hovey's suspense novels

About Joan:


In addition to her critically acclaimed novels, Joan Hall Hovey's articles and short stories have appeared in such diverse publications as The Toronto Star, Atlantic Advocate, Seek, Home Life Magazine, Mystery Scene, The New Brunswick Reader, Fredericton Gleaner, New Freeman and Kings County Record. Her short story Dark Reunion was selected for the anthology investigating Women, Published by Simon & Pierre.


Ms. Hovey has held workshops and given talks at various schools and libraries in her area, including New Brunswick Community College, and taught a course in creative writing at the University of New Brunswick. For a number of years, she has been a tutor with Winghill School, a distance education school in Ottawa for aspiring writers.


She is a member of the Writer's Federation of New Brunswick, past regional Vice-President of Crime Writers of Canada, Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.
Website
Joan will be awarding a piece of Micmac jewelry - silver dreamcatcher earrings (her main character learns she is of Micmac ancestry) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour (USA and Canada ONLY). 


BLURB:




A suspense novel interwoven with threads of romance and paranormal.


Imagine discovering everything you believe about yourself to be a lie. And that the truth could stir a killer from his lair.


Following the death of the woman she believed to be her mother, 28-year-old Naomi Waters learns from a malicious aunt that she is not only adopted, but the product of a brutal rape that left her birth mother, Mary Rose Francis, a teenager of Micmac ancestry, in a coma for 8 months.


Dealing with a sense of betrayal and loss, but with new purpose in her life, Naomi vows to track down Mary Rose's attackers and bring them to justice. She places her story in the local paper, asking for information from residents who might remember something of the case that has been cold for nearly three decades.


She is about to lose hope that her efforts will bear fruit, when she gets an anonymous phone call. Naomi has attracted the attention of one who remembers the case well.


But someone else has also read the article in the paper. The man whose DNA she carries.


And he has Naomi in his sights.


Review quotes:


"…Ms. Hovey's talent in creating characters is so real, you feel their emotions and their fears. You want to yell at them to warn of the danger . . . and you do! Your shouts fall on deaf ears . . . and you cry! The best suspense writer I've ever read!


Beth Anderson, Author of Raven Talks back
"...Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King come to mind, but JOAN HALL HOVEY is in a Class by herself!…"


J.D. Michael Phelps, Author of My Fugitive, David Janssen


"…CANADIAN MISTRESS OF SUSPENSE…The author has a remarkable ability to turn up the heat on the suspense… great characterizations and dialogue…" James Anderson, author of Deadline
Excerpt:  THE ABDUCTION OF MARY ROSE



Chapter One


1982


The teenage girl hurried along the darkening street, head down in a vain attempt to divert attention from herself as she headed for her bus stop, still over a block away. The car behind her was a soft growl in the still, warm air.


It was mid-June, only two weeks till school closed. The air was fragrant with the smell of lilacs that grew here and there along the street. She wore a jean skirt and white cotton shirt, and yet she felt as exposed and vulnerable as if she were naked. She was anticipating the freedom of summer and thinking about spending more time with her new friend Lisa, when she became of aware of the car following her. She had been thinking maybe she and Lisa would swim in the pond edged with the tall reeds, near her house where she sometimes fished with her grandfather. She'd let grandfather meet Lisa. She knew he would like her. It would be impossible not to like Lisa, even though her grandfather didn't quite trust white people.


The growl of the motor grew louder, and she heard the window whisper open on the passenger side, close to her. "Where you goin' in such a hurry, sweet thing?"


She didn't turn around, just kept on her way toward the bus stop, one foot in front of the other, as fast as she could go without running. Music thumped loudly from the car radio, pounding its beat into the night. It was not music she would have listened to, not like the music they'd played on Lisa's tape player tonight, and that she and Lisa had danced to in Lisa's room. Lisa had tried to teach her some new steps; it had been so much fun. They danced to songs by Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross' Mirror, Mirror and a bunch more she couldn't even remember. Lisa had a lot of records.


The music that blasted from the car sounded angry and unpleasant. The car drew up so close to her she could smell the alcohol the men had been drinking, mixed in with the gas fumes.


The car edged even closer to the curb, and the man said something ugly and dirty out the window to her and his words made her face burn, made her feel ashamed as if she had done something wrong though she knew she hadn't. She pretended not to hear, made herself look straight ahead, her eyes riveted on the yellow band around the distant pole that was the bus stop, just up past the graveyard. She kept moving forward, one foot in front of the other, trying not to look scared, and prayed they would go away. Fear made her heart race.


The day was fast fading, the sky a light mauve, only a sprinkling of stars yet. Soon it would be dark. She was always home before dark. Grandfather would be worried. A few more minutes and you'll be at the bus stop, she told herself. Ignore them. But it was impossible to do with the car following so close that the heat from the motor brushed her bare legs, like a monster's breath.


The car crawled along beside her. She moved as far away as she could get, but the pavement was next to none along here and broken. "Hey, sweet thing," the man said. "You trying to get away from us." He laughed.


Despite herself, she turned her head and looked straight into the man's face. He was grinning out at her, showing his square, white teeth, causing her heart to pound even louder than the music. He made her think of the coyotes that sometimes came skulking around grandfather's house at night hunting for small cats and dogs. No. I am wrong. He is not like the coyotes. They are just being coyotes. It is a noble animal. An evil spirit dwells within this beast. One tied with the most fragile of chains. She could feel him straining toward her, teeth bared. She would not have been surprised to see foam coming from his mouth.


Softly, he said, "Hey, Pocahontas, want a ride?"


Feeling as if a hand were at her throat, she darted a look behind her, praying to see someone, anyone, who might help her, but the street was deserted. She'd left the row of wooden houses behind her a good ten minutes ago and was now at River's End Cemetery. There was no sidewalk at all here, just the dirt path, broken curb on her left and the empty field to her right, leading up into the graveyard. If a car comes along, she thought, I'll just run right out into the middle of the road and flag it down. But none did. She visualized herself safely inside the bus and on her way home to Salmon Cove, to her grandfather's small blue house on the reservation. She would tell him all about Lisa, her new best friend from school. Her grandfather would smile at her, and be pleased for her and call her his little Sisup. She fingered the pendant around her neck that he had made for her, a kind of talisman. To keep evil spirits away.


Grandfather didn't always understand the white man's world though, and there would be worry on his weathered face because she was not home yet. But she would make them a pot of tea and they would talk, and he would forget his worry. She was still focused on the bus stop, the utility pole marked by its wide yellow band. With the car so close, the thrum of the motor vibrating through her, the bus stop seemed a mile away. She walked faster, a chill sweeping through her body. She was forced now to walk on the slight incline that led up to the graveyard. Only the ruined curb separated her from her tormentors.


A taxi fled past, but she'd been so intent on getting to the bus stop she'd noticed it too late. It had been going so fast, out of sight already, just pinpoints of taillights in the distance, then nothing.


"Hey, what's your hurry, squawgirl?"


She gave no answer, swallowed, and kept going. When the man did not speak for several minutes, she became even more frightened by his silence than his talk. The boys at school sometimes called her Indian, and other dumb stuff like pretending to be beating on war drums, or doing a rain dance, and though it hurt her feelings and sometimes even made her cry, this was different. The boys thought they were being funny. Not so with this man. She could feel his contempt, even hatred for her, and something else, something that made her mouth and throat dry and her blood race faster. As she continued to put one foot in front of the other on the worn, rocky path edging the graveyard, she was very careful not to stumble and become like the wounded deer under the hungry eye of the wolf, she kept her eyes on the pole with its yellow band. In the darkening sky, a high white moon floated.


Everything in her wanted to break into a run, but a small voice warned her that it would not be a wise thing to do. Anyway, no way could she outrun a car. Why did the bus stop seem so far away? It was like a bad dream, where no matter how fast you run you don't go anywhere, and whatever is behind you ... draws closer and closer.


She shouldn't have stayed so long at Lisa's. But they'd been having such fun, just talking and listening to music, sharing secrets. It was nice to have a best friend, to feel like any other teenager. But you're not like any other teenager. You're an Indian. She should have listened to her grandfather.


The man spoke again. "C'mon, get in, Pocahontas," he said, his tone quiet, chilling her. "We'll have us a little party." He reached a hand out the open window and she shrank from his touch, stumbled, nearly fell, tears blinding her. She heard the driver laugh, a nervous laugh and she knew he was a follower of the other man. There was an exchanged murmur of words she couldn't make out, then, the car angled ever closer to her, wheels scraping the curb, making her jump back.


"Got something for you, sweetheart," the grinning man said. "You'll like it."


More laughter, but only from him now. Adrenaline rushed through her and she started to run, ignoring the warning voice. But it was too late. The car shrieked to a stop and instantly the door flew open and the man burst from the car and grabbed her. She screamed and fought to free herself from the steel arm clamped around her waist, but it was no use. She kicked and clawed at him, but he lifted her off her feet as if she were a rag doll and threw her into the back seat, and scrambled in after her. He shut the door and hit the lock. "Go," he yelled at the driver but the car remained idling. The man looked over his shoulder, started to say something but the man holding her down yelled at him a second time to go, louder, furious, and they took off on squealing tires.


"Please let me out," she begged. "Please…" Her pleas were cut off by a powerful back-hand across the mouth, filling it with the warm, coppery taste of blood. "Gisoolg, help me," she cried out, calling on the spiritual god of her grandfather, and of his grandfather before him. But no answer came.


Up in the graveyard, an owl screeched as it too swooped down on its night prey. And all fell silent. 


NIGHT CORRIDOR


At 17, Caroline Hill was torn from the boy she loved by her tyranical father. Then they took her child. Finally, her grasp on reality.


Now, after nine years in Bayshore mental institution, once called The Lunatic Asylum, Caroline is being released.


There will be no one to meet her. Her parents who brought her here are dead.


They have found her a room in a rooming house, a job washing dishes in a restaurant. She will do fine, they said. But no one told her that women in St. Simeon are already dying at the hands of a vicious predator. One, an actress who lived previously in her building.
 
Others.


And now, as Caroline struggles to survive on the outside, she realizes someone is stalking her.


But who will believe her? She's a crazy woman after all.


Then, one cold winter's night on her way home from her job, a man follows and is about to assault her when a stranger intercedes.


A stranger who hides his face and whispers her name.


Review Quotes:


"…another winner. I highly recommend it to any lover of suspense, mystery, romance, or thriller. You’ll not only race through this book, but clamor for more works by this talented and polished author. Aaron Paul Lazar, author of Healey's Cave


"...The mystery and suspense in this novel is outstanding, truly top notch, in the vein of Mary Higgins Clark, but—dare I say—even better? - In the Library


"…intricately plotted and the ending will surprise even the most devoted mystery and susense reader. Gripping suspense. – Sandy Heptinstall - Whispering Winds Reviews
Excerpt: NIGHT CORRIDOR


October 1973


He noticed her as soon as he walked into the bar. She was sitting with another girl, a blond; pretty, he supposed, but his attention was riveted on the dark-haired one. He ordered a beer and took a table in the far corner where he had a good view, while he himself was safe from watchful eyes. She had satiny hair to her shoulders, high cheekbones, was slender in a silk print top, black slacks, like a woman on the cover of a magazine. She was laughing at something the blond said, flashing perfect white teeth and his heart tripped. She's the one, the voice told him. Excitement surged through him as he recast her in the movie that for years now, replayed endlessly on the screen of his mind.


When the two women rose to leave, he left his unfinished beer on the table and casually, so as not to draw attention to himself, followed them outside. She had put on a jacket and it shone bright white in the lights from the parking lot.


After chatting briefly, the two girls gave each other a quick hug, then parted and went to their respective cars, parked a good distance from one another. There was a rightness to it. They might just as easily have come in one car, or parked closer to one another. But they did not. The stars were finally lining up in his favor.


He came up behind her as she was fitting the key in the lock of the red Corvair. "I'm Buddy," he said softly, so as not to frighten her. Despite his best intention, she whirled around, eyes wide. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What do you want?"


He felt the smile on his face falter. A mask, crumbling. "I just want to talk to you."


"Fuck off, okay? I'm not interested."


With those words, her beauty vanished, as if he'd imagined it. Her mouth was twisted and ugly. Disappointment weighed heavy on him. Anger boiled up from his depths.


"That was wrong of you to say that to me," he said, still speaking quietly.


Belying the softness of his voice, she saw something in his eyes then and he saw that she did, and when she opened her mouth to scream, he stuck her full in the face with his fist.


She slid down the side of the car as if boneless. He caught her before she hit the ground, then dragged her around to the other side of the car, blocking her with his own body in case someone saw them. Not that he was too concerned. If anyone did see them they would just figure she was his girlfriend and that she'd had one too many. But there was no one in the lot. Even her friend had already driven off.


He lowered her limp form to the ground while he hurried round to the driver's side and got the key out of the door. He put on his gloves, and opened the passenger door. After propping her up in the seat, he went back around and slid into the driver's side. Then he turned on the ignition and the car hummed to life.


Shifting the car into reverse, he backed out of the parking spot. He gave the wheel a hard turn and she fell against him, her hair brushing his face and filling his senses with her shampoo, something with a hint of raspberry. He pushed her off him and her head thunked against the passenger window. A soft moan escaped her, but she didn't wake.


He drove several miles out of the city, then turned left onto a rutted dirt road and stayed on it for a good ten minutes. Spotting a clearing leading into the woods, an old logging road no longer used, he eased the car in, bumping over dips and tangled roots. He went in just far enough not to be seen from the road on the off-chance someone drove by, but also taking care he wouldn't get stuck in here. The headlights picked out the white trunks of spruce trees, spot-lighting the leaves that seconds later receded into blackness, as if this were merely a stage set.


Beside him, the woman moaned again then whimpered, her hand moving to her face where he had struck her. Blood trickled darkly down one corner of her mouth and her eyes fluttered open. He knew the instant she sensed him there beside her, like the bogeyman in a nightmare.


Except she was awake now. When she turned to look at him he felt her stiffen, could see in her eyes that she knew she was in big trouble. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.


"Who are you?" she croaked, more blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, eyes wet with tears.


"What does it matter?"


"Please…please don't hurt me. I'm—I'm sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn't have. If you want to… I mean, it's okay. You don't have to hurt…"


His fury was like lava from a volcano and his hand shot out, the back of it shutting off her words in mid-sentence. "Shut up, whore."


She was crying hard now, heavy, hiccupy sobs, helpless, terrified. But her tears meant nothing to him. She was right to be afraid. He slid the knife from its sheath that hung on his belt and let her see it.


"Oh, God, no please…" She was choking on her tears, wriggling away from him, trapped, like a butterfly on the head of a pin. He smiled when she reached for the door handle on her side, and then drove the knife into her upper arm. She screamed and he wound his fingers into her hair. "Be quiet," he said, while she held her arm with her other hand and wept like a child.


As he had wept. As he wept still.


"You can't get away," he said. "There's no place to go."

Where to buy:Amazon