Tina Gayle's Blog, page 69

Eggcerpt by Tonya Callihan

First let's learn a little about Tonya.
She has been writing all of her life. At the age of 13, on Christmas break she snuck one of her mom’s romances from a box brought over by her grandma. The novel she read was ‘Montana Sky’ by Nora Roberts. Once she finished reading that book she knew someday she would to be a published romance author. She has been writing every since.

Now a single mom she balances her time between her 10 month old son, Mason, writing, work, and the Internet!

Tonya loves to help support some of her favorite authors and is very involved in several street teams and posts book reviews over at her blog !

Her first novel was published in January 2010, Night Promises , the first book in her Night Pleasures series! After a long wait her second book from MuseItUp Publishing, Claimed will be coming out Spring 2013! With hopefully, more releases this year as well.
My Links:
Author FB:
https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Author-Tonya-Callihan/155567004477447
 
Website:
http://www.tonyacallihan.weebly.com/
Blog
http://www.tonyasramblings.blogspot.com
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/tonyacallihanGoodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/11898212-tonya
Pinterest:
http://pinterest.com/masonsmomma12/Google+

https://plus.google.com/u/0/104988658514193732252#104988658514193732252/posts
 
  “Our new girl is looking good out there.” Mac handed Kelly a bottle of water from the small fridge in the corner of their office. “That’s good. I wasn’t sure about hiring a human. The last one quit within the first hour, but she’s made it through two nights.” “Our last one was more concerned with whether vampires really existed or not. With Cammie, I believe she’s got a real interest with vamps and respects us.” “How did your date go last night?” “There won’t be a second one. For a three-hundred year old vamp, he has no charm and absolutely nothing but blood and the sport of finding the next meal to talk about.” “I think Micah is interested in you.” “What makes you say that?” “When I arrived at Connor’s, Micah asked me how you were. I told him you were on a date, and he looked upset and got short with me.” “Well, I’m not interested in him.” “Is there such a thing as life mates?” “Did he say we were life mates? I tell you what; he didn’t get the hint seventy years ago, but he’s going to get it now.” She tossed her water bottle in the trash. “I’ll take that as a yes and a no. He didn’t mention you two were life mates.” She stood in front of Kelly’s desk. “There are rumors that life mates really exist. But I’ve never felt that pull, I guess you could call it.” “Can humans feel it with vampires?” “I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of it. As much as I hate to admit this, Micah would be the man you need to talk to about this type of stuff. He’s been around longer than I have, and he knows how it works.” “Do you not want to know?” “I’m not interested in settling down. Honestly, I don’t believe vamps are capable of settling down.” “Why not?” “Because we are creatures of habit. Sex and blood. We need both and very often. We can’t stay with the same human for a long period of time, or we will kill them or be forced to turn them against their will. Vamps can feed from one another during sex, but the vamp will still have a strong hunger for human blood.” “That answers my questions then.” “Do you think you and Connor are life mates?” “No, I don’t. I’ve never felt a pull, as you said. I was more curious about a lasting relationship between a human and vampire.” “I hate to let you down but it’s almost impossible. If you and Connor are life mates, you would have to let him turn you.” “But as you said, we would still need human blood.” Book Reviews:
http://www.tonyasbookreviews.blogspot.com
Buy Night Promises
Secret Cravings Publishing
http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=21&products_id=2&zenid=ac9d9b16effcb31fa9370fb8e2b157da
 Amazon
http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=21&products_id=2&zenid=ac9d9b16effcb31fa9370fb8e2b157da
 Barnes and Nobel
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/night-promises-tonya-renee-callihan/1029632181?ean=9781936653010

Egg-cerpt Summer's Growth (Roses)

Family Tree Club series
Keeper of Winston Manor
Advised by spirits
Carving out a future.

Blurb:
Forced by the family spirits to get a life, Mattie Winston has to train her replacement Amber Harrison to be in charge of all the workings of the Winston estate. Reluctant to make changes in her life, Mattie forms a bond with Amber, when strange accidents start happening which threaten their lives and an unknown ghost makes an appearance.

After being rescued by an old flame, Quincy Miller, Mattie faces old wounds of rejection. As the general contractor for Amber’s redecoration project, Mattie is in constant contact with Quincy and realizes she still in love with her childhood sweetheart.

Amber, learning her new role in the family, wants to discover the identity of the ghost who keeps appearing. After several appearances, Gwen, Amber’s distance grandmother, shifts the book into more of Amber’s struggle to find out why her grandmother disappeared two hundred years ago without a trace. In a fight to claim her position in the family, Amber searches for clues to solve the mystery.

Mattie and Amber are both challenged when the family spirits decides Amber shouldn’t be the keeper. Battling for Amber, Mattie realizes she wants a life with Quincy outside the Winston estate.

Amber realized the importance of her new spiritual family, and she works to discover how Gwen died.

Can these two women achieve their goals?



“No reason for her to stay bottled up in the house with an old maid like me,” Mattie grumbled.

Alone and feeling sorry for herself, she stared at the cold ashes in the fireplace, a black mess with no hope of burning again. Just like her life. Once Amber assumed the job of keeper, she’d be free to do anything she wanted.

The sound of a car in the driveway alerted Mattie. “Amber must have forgotten something.” She walked out of the study on her way to the front door.

Surprised by the sight of Quincy coming up the stoop with bags in his hands, she leaned against the doorjamb. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

“I thought you might be hungry.” His winning grin prevented any objection she might have had.

Flustered, she sputtered, “But—”

“You said you didn’t want to go out, so I brought dinner in.” Not pausing, Quincy pushed his way past her.

His reasoning seemed logical, but Mattie wasn’t sure of his true intentions. She rushed to catch up. “Quincy, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Sure, I did. I invited you to dinner, didn’t I?” he said over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen.

She longed to tell him to leave, but she couldn’t. Not after he’d gone to so much trouble to bring her dinner. His thoughtfulness disarmed her, weakened her knees as well as her resolve.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He pulled a rotisserie chicken and potato salad from a bag. “I even have dessert.”

From another one, he unearthed a pie and showed her the label. “Apple pie and,” putting down the pie, he reached back in, “ice cream.”

Delighted, Mattie squelched her giddiness by protesting against his efforts. “Quincy, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I planned on having a sandwich for dinner.”

Heedless of her words, he stashed the ice cream in the freezer and retrieved one more item from a different bag. “And these are for letting me have dinner with you.”

Quincy held out a bouquet of deep red roses, catching her completely off guard. Shocked appreciation snatched her breath away. Hands shaking, heart quaking, she stood rooted to the floor. She didn’t know how to handle this situation. No one had ever given her flowers before.

Mattie clasped the roses to her chest, mesmerized by their beauty. “Thank you, Quincy.”

Not releasing his hold, he stared into her eyes.

She couldn’t help but yield to the powerful forces between them, and swayed into his arms. Enclosed in his warm male strength, she trembled.

He ran his hand along her spine and slowly leaned closer.

She waited, expecting the soft caress of his lips on hers. At the last moment, he diverted his kiss and his lips brushed her forehead instead.

Stunned, she could only stare.

“Mattie, I’m trying not to rush you and take it slow, but I won’t deny I want you in every way a man could want a woman. So for now I need you to promise me something.”

Lost in the velvet warmth of his eyes, she knew she’d promise him anything. She placed her hand on his chest and breathlessly asked, “What kind of promise?”

Read First Chapter of "Summer's Growth"  Purchase ebook at:
www.smashwords.com www.amazon.com

Planning a Website?

One of the first things authors are asked is

Do you have a website?

Some have authors use wordpress or blogger to host their site while other seek other hosting sites.

As a former programmer, I wanted a site that I could have on a separate site, but as you can see by looking at the top of my blog. I still use blogger to gain access to my home site.

When planning a website, an author needs to decide on a number of things.

Branding- what do you want to show on your site?

Number of pages?

What type of pages?

Here are some example of the different type of pages one can have.
 
1.  Home Page / Welcome page  – is like the entryway to your house.  It is an introduction to you. It should include things like author’s picture, available books, a welcome note, brief biography and links to all the other pages on the site.

2.  Books Page – as an author you want people to find your books. This page should contain all the books you’ve written with either blurbs, excerpts or reviews. Or links to this information.

3.  Bio Page – a page to tell people about yourself. Who you are, what you write, more about your personal interests and other information you want to share.

4.  Links Page – this page gives visitors to your site links to other places on the Internet where they can find you. Also, it can include links to your friends and publisher. This is important because links to other sites that link back to you increases your rating on the Internet. (This also increase your SEO rating—see definition below.)

5.  Other Pages – the possibility for other pages are endless. Here is where you make your site your own.

6.  Picture page - share pictures.

7.  Contact page – where you give fans your email address.

8.  Excerpt pages – giving excerpts of your books or the ability to read the first chapter.

9.  Video Page – to display video you’ve made. (A great way to connect with readers.)

10.  Some sites also have chat areas.

Each author has to decide what they want and why?

Feel free to hop around mine  and see what you like and don't like. Viewing other sites can help you decide what you want on yours.

Once these things are decided then comes the creative part of the process - colors, pictures, type print, headers, footers, etc.

This is not a one day project. Take some time and thing about what is best for your site.

Best of luck,

Tina  

Egg-cerpt - Revive - Was it a Bad Date?

Needing to revive her life and jump start her heart, Jennifer Larson is facing the biggest challenge of her life, moving into an unplanned future. While the rest of the Executives Wives' Club continue to mourn their husbands, Jen is tempted into the future by a sexy chiropractor, Hagan Chaney.
 But does he love her or her money?
“No, but it doesn’t appear as if Hagan feels the same way about your date as you do.” Brie cocked a brow and nodded approval. “He goes all googly-eyed when he looks at you.”

Jen shook her head, uncertain if Brie had read the signals correctly. Could he still find her attractive after their date last night?

Surely not.

Yet, she couldn’t forget the inviting strength of Hagan’s body lying over hers on the floor. “I wish, but he’s only being kind.”

“Wrong,” Brie whispered and lifted a container of steaming spaghetti sauce. “The man looks hungry, and it’s not for my pasta.” She walked out of the kitchen.

Jen stood, staring after her friend.

Could Brie be right?

Would Hagan ask her out again? And if he did, should she go?

She strayed to the door of the dining room and her gaze narrowed in on Hagan like a homing device. His strawberry blond head bowed low, he sat listening to the constant chatter of his young dining partner.

Jen waited for a moment for him to glance at her. When he didn’t, she searched the table for an open seat.

Why would he want her? She had nothing to offer.

Yes, some men might find her attractive because of the funds she’d received from Craig’s life insurance. However, as a doctor with a successful practice, Hagan didn’t need her money.

“Mrs. Larson, sit by me.” Ethan’s reminder of her married named slashed through her desire to get serious with any man. She nodded and strayed forward. Her marriage to Craig hadn’t been perfect. So why fall into the same old trap with a new guy? Maybe the EWC members’ opinions about dating again were right.

She should’ve waited.

Jen walked around Brie, who sat at the end of the table, and slid into the seat next to Ethan. “Everything looks great, Brie.”

“Thanks. Why don’t we past the salad around this way?” Brie handed the bowl to Jen and glanced around the table as if afraid she’d forgotten something.

“Mr. Cheney, can you please put some spaghetti on my plate.” Allison batted her eyes and offered him a shy smile.

Sitting across the table from them, Jen couldn’t help but notice the young girl’s hand sprayed delicately on his arm, the twinkle in her eyes, and the small smile, which fluttered repeatedly over her lips.

How could anyone resist her youthful charm?

Jen gripped the tongs a little tighter, angry for being jealous of a seven-year-old. She selected a few extra croutons and stared at the green leaves.

A man as sexy as Hagan could have any woman he wanted—one less than half his age. He didn’t need her problems, money, or hang-ups about having kids. He could choose a wife who would gladly give him a horde of kids.

Good for him. She didn’t need a husband she’d only like to have a little fun.


Read First Chapter of "Youthful Temptations" and Reviews   
Purchase ebook at: www.smashwords.com www.barnesandnoble.com www.kobobooks.com itunes.apple.com At Amazon

Egg-cerpt Exchange with Zrinka Jelic

My second novel, a pirate’s romance titled “Treasured Chest” has just been released on November 24th and is now available at Black Opal Books AmazonBarnes & Noble AllRomance eBooks Smashwordsand Kobobooks
 
BLURB
 
The last thing Captain Sirena expected to find on a desolate island was...him!
 
When Carmen Ventura takes up her post as commander of the Strega, she becomes the new Captain Sirena, the legendary pirate most people think is just a myth created to scare children. Her first quest is to search for the “treasured chest” hidden by her predecessor. But before she can even begin the hunt, she runs into Marko Lucin, captain of the Levant and Carmen’s most insane adventure yet.
 
How can the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen be a bloody pirate?
 
Never one to pass up an adventure, especially where pretty women are concerned, Marko finds his ultimate challenge in Carmen. Not only does he fall for her courage, spunk, and intelligence, but the lady pirate can also help him get what he wants—the famous treasure everyone whispers about. His only problem—how long can he play the charming captain before she discovers his true intentions?
 
EXCERPT
 
She was ready to walk away and leave him stranded...but the man had a treasure map. What if it was real?
 
Sirena’s mind raced. Even with different colors hoisted, after the last night’s raid, she ran the risk that the Strega’s sails would be detected as soon as they appeared on the horizon. Her ship could not approach the city’s defensive walls. Not until all the rumors settled and no survivors would recognize them. On the other hand, she couldn’t pass through the Pila Gates as a lone woman. Last time she had spoken to her brother, he had said he’d be docking in Ragusa’s harbor on the second Sunday of August. Still two days away, but she should pay him a visit. Maybe he’d been home and had news.
 
“I possess a map.” The man’s voice snapped her out of her planning.
 
She lowered her sword, and her glance, to his feet and flicked a crab into the sea. “Charts are of no interest to me.”
 
“Ah.” He stroked his chin, leaving sooty fingerprints on his blond beard. “But this is not an ordinary map.” His grin exposed a row of white teeth, a rarity. “It leads to a treasure.”
 
“Treasure means different things to different people.” Something familiar reflected in his eyes. She stepped back. Now, where had she seen him before?
 
“True,” he said, “but I believe this map is real.” The same sparkle flashed in his eyes, reaffirming that flicker of recognition, but she still couldn’t place the sense of familiarity.
“What makes you so sure?”“I’ve had it all my life.” He shrugged and gave a shy smile. “Call me a captain, but I’ve never been able to make any sense of the damn thing.”

KUDOS FOR TREASURED CHEST
Treasured Chest is captivating and action packed. The scenes were so vivid I felt the ship’s deck rolling beneath me while shouting commands to the crew and dreaming of being thoroughly kissed by Captain Marko. Treasured Chest is an exciting story, a shelf-keeper. – JJ Keller, best-selling author of Trade Agreement
I liked the character development and the plot, and it is obvious that Jelic did her homework as the shipping terms, etc., appear to be very authentic. I didn’t once come across something and said, wait a minute this is supposed to be historical—as sometimes happens with historical romances. Treasured Chestis fun and entertaining and the plot has some nice twists and turns. – Taylor, reviewer
I found Treasured Chest to be a strong second novel for Zrinka Jelic. While I enjoyed her first book, I think Jelic’s writing is much stronger in this second book. The character development is excellent, the dialogue convincing, and the plot intriguing. – Regan, reviewer

AUTHOR’S BIOZrinka Jelic lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and two children. A member of the Romance Writers of America and its chapter Fantasy Futuristic &Paranormal, as well as Savvy Authors, she writes contemporary fiction—which leans toward the paranormal—and adds a pinch of history. Her characters come from all walks of life, and although she prefers red, romance comes in many colors. Given Jelic’s love for her native Croatia and the Adriatic Sea, her characters usually find themselves dealing with a fair amount of sunshine, but that’s about the only break they get. “Alas,” Jelic says, with a grin. “Some rain must fall in everyone’s life.”

 
Contact me @: www.bondedbycrimson.blogspot.com
http://zrinkajelicromanceauthor.wordpress.com/
Find me on: Facebook Twitter 
Watch the book trailer: Bonded by Crimson
 

Egg-cerpt for "Coinage of Commitment"

Coinage of Commitment: Contemporary Romance by Rob Costelloe
 
Blurb 
Wayne and Nancy grow up on opposite sides of the country, each certain they must have love better than what others will settle for. Something stronger, something richer, something worth searching for. During the turbulent nineteen-sixties, they meet while he is attending blue-collar Drexel, and she is at neighboring, Ivy League Penn. Although irresistibly drawn to each other, they must overcome obstacles posed by the class and social differences that separate them, as well as opposition from both families, and later, a twist of fate that will be the cruelest test of all. Can they reach the emotional heights they seek? Can they overcome time's downward pulling inertia? Coinage of Commitment is dedicated to all who ever wondered about the altitude love might soar to.
Find it on Amazon at:http://www.amazon.com/Coinage-of-Commitment-ebook/dp/B00AY0YGRO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1357916157&sr=1-1&keywords=coinage+of+commitment 
 
Excerpt
Setup: Late Friday night, 1968, at Philadelphia’s 30th St. Subway Station. Wayne is looking from the trolley station, where he stands, to the adjacent subway train (El) platform. 
As he watched absently, the girl from Sullivan’s came down the El station steps opposite him. She paused at the foot of the stairs, getting her bearings. Although adequate lighting bathed the platform, most riders took stock of others in the vicinity for safety’s sake. It was a natural precaution, instinctive for most, and especially important this late at night. She saw him, signaled recognition by a parting of her lips that was not quite a smile, then she lowered her gaze, turned, and strolled slowly out of sight to the other side of the stairway.
Seeing her again pricked him with an off-kilter joy, uplifting and refreshing, partly because she recognized and acknowledged him, but also because she seemed so buoyantly out of place down here, her bright beauty undefeated by the dank-smelling gloom of the subway. He smiled, turned away, and sauntered to the south side of the trolley platform. The minutes dragged, but no trolley car arrived. He began mentally composing a theme paper for his International Politics course, the only non-technical one he had that semester. Ideas came to him, prancing, and he thought of getting a notebook from his bag.
“Police! Help! Help me!” A woman’s screaming and it came from the El platform.
Thinking frantically of the girl, he ran to the north edge of the platform and jumped the foot or so that got him down onto the trolley tracks. A steel grate fence separated the two transit systems, but it had seen better days. A section was ajar, just ten feet to his left, and he swung it open enough to squeeze through.
Now things got difficult. The El platform was too high and far to jump to. The train tracks gleamed below him, the electrified rail closest, then the two steel tracks. He saw only one way to get there and didn’t slow down to analyze the risk. He threw his bag onto the opposite platform, then leaped forward, over the electrified rail, and down into the square trench that ran a foot and a half below and between the steel tracks. The platform loomed just above him, and the smell of ozone was stronger this close to the electrified rail—the one he must not fall back against. With his momentum still carrying forward from the jump, he kept moving, aware his footing and balance must be perfect. He reached up and grabbed the El platform edge, stepped up on the rail before him, then used his grip on the edge to lever himself up and onto the platform, landing on his right shoulder and side. Feeling no pain, he got to his feet and sprinted west down the platform toward the woman’s screams.
As he ran, he recalled what he had seen: the girl from Sullivan’s, a nondescript man, and three black youths: teens with their heads wrapped in dark bandannas, signifying…he knew not what. They were what fueled his urgency. Where was she? The commotion was still ahead of him.
He ran at top speed past the central vending area and spotted figures near the far steps. He could see her blond mane, somewhat disheveled now, and she stood with her arm across a shorter girl’s shoulder. The nondescript man ran up and joined them.
“He took my purse,” the other girl wailed. “I can’t believe I was so careless to let him get my purse that easily.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the blond girl said, her arm still across the smaller girl’s shoulder in comfort.
“All my ID. A credit card. And I just got my paycheck cashed today. How stupid can you get?”
Another woman came down the steps and joined the group. As Wayneapproached and slowed, a balding, thirtyish-looking man passed him from behind, joined the scene, said he had heard the commotion from above, and that a companion had gone to the toll booths to get help. Then two of the black youths he had seen earlier ran up from the west.
“He high-tailed it onto the tracks,” said the shorter of the youths. “He’s got choice of Thirty-third Streettrolley or Thirty-fourth Street El station, so it looks like we kiss that one good-bye. You know what I’m saying? The Fuzz’l never collar that dude now.”
As though on cue, a police officer, complete with German Shepherd, came down the steps and assumed authority. The third black youth also joined the crowd. Wayne held back, not seeing what he could contribute by his late arrival. The blond girl had seen his running approach. Or had she? Her gaze had flicked briefly in his direction, then back to her charge. The tension eased with collective relief, and the officer started questioning the stricken girl, unpacking a notebook as he spoke.
Wayne thought of how the blond girl continued to be too distracted to notice him, and he felt bemused by the irony of his situation. He had arrived about 7.2 seconds too late to be of any use, even to the wrong damsel in distress. His breathing slowed. Still not seeing anything he could contribute, he turned and walked slowly in the direction he had come. He needed to retrieve his bag from where he had tossed it onto the platform. When he got there, he picked up the bag and looked out over the gleaming tracks toward the trolley station. No way, he thought, realizing with a shiver the danger he had risked. The price of another transit token wasn’t nearly worth the peril. And then, as though to underscore the irony, his trolley arrived and then quickly departed. Oh well, might as well climb the stairs to the mid-level pay booths so he could get back down to the trolley station. He took his sweet time since he probably had at least a twenty-minute wait. He approached the corner of the stairway, trying to remember whether the trolleys discontinued service during the wee hours. Suddenly the blond girl stood in front of him, her eyes wide, her expression anxious.
“It just dawned on me,” she said. “How did you get over here?”
 Rob Costelloe Connections
Home (plus blog):       http://www.rcostelloe.com/coinage-of-commitment.html
Facebook:                    http://www.facebook.com/robert.costelloe.56?ref=tn_tnmn
Twitter:                       https://twitter.com/r_costelloe
Pinterest:                     http://pinterest.com/rcostelloe/
Goodreads:                 http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1284780.Robert_Costelloe
 

Egg-cerpts from Anna Bayes

Under His Wings, a M/M/F menage love story by Anna Bayes
 
Blurb:
Bonnie thought Matt was everything she ever wanted: boyishly charming, understanding and exciting. Then she realized that he had another lover: Sean, an artistic, intensely jealous and handsome man. She tries, and fails to accept herself as the barely tolerated female lover. On New Year's Eve, she demands a meeting amongst the three. The confrontation sparks dangerous rage, and something else with an entirely different heat level: steamy desire. Can she bring about a reconciliation satisfactory to everyone involved as she surrenders to her passion?
 
Buy link:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.ph...
 
Excerpt:
As I stood before my reflection in the mirror this morning, I tried to rehearse my request to Matt. I repeated it many times, looking into my eyes: the round, dark brown pupils returning my gaze unconvincingly. I shook my hair loose, and reasoned with myself again. If all Matt's talk about my importance is only empty words to keep me, then he is a lying bastard, and I am better off without him. I tried to say it aloud with conviction, but my voice betrayed me; I sounded like a frightened, disappointed little girl. I know logically that I can live without him, but loving him has become such an integral, necessary part of my life; I am not sure I could stop, even if we parted. 
 
5 pm. Matt took my hand as I closed my shop early for the day, kissed it and buried it in the large pocket in his jacket. I love how my hand fits snugly in his; it is as if all my body parts have been tailor-made to suit him, and melt into him. I concentrated on staring at the toes of my boots, mustering up my courage, then I looked squarely into his eyes, and said, "I want Sean to meet me." I had initially practiced declaring in a crescendo, "I refuse to be hidden like an undignified whore. I am not a filler between Sean and other things in your life. I need him to acknowledge me as a person. I demand his respect," but this part of the speech became stuck in my throat. Matt looked at me, dumbfounded, until I almost started to believe that I had delivered my full speech, after all. Then he clenched his teeth, tightened his grip on my hand, and said, "Yes, you deserve better than this."
 
The taxi ride to his apartment was a blur. The original plan for tonight, it being New Year's Eve, had been that Matt would spend the early evening with me, then return home to Sean for dinner and to count down to 2013 over sizzling sex. Sean is not there when we arrive at the apartment, and we sit on the sofa to wait. Matt looks frighteningly dashing: his eyes blazing, his whole body tense, clearly deep in thought, preparing for something. He looks up as the sound of keys in the lock announces Sean's return. "Hey you..." Sean's lilting voice stops in its tracks as he opens the door wider and sees me seated next to his lover.
 
Find Anna Bayes at these places:
Her blog (http://annabayes.wordpress.com)
Her Amazon author page (http://www.amazon.com/author/annabayes)
Her Goodreads author page (http://www.goodreads.com/annabayes)
Her Manic Readers author page (http://www.manicreaders.com/annabayes)

Egg-cerpt Pregnancy Plan - "A Lady with a Plan"

Pregnant shopkeeper Jillian Wilson prepares for single parenthood until high-risk security specialist Derrick Harris, the baby’s father, is caught in an explosion that changes everything.  Confused, Derrick returns to the States with amnesia. Jillian believes she has it all a husband, a baby, a perfect life, to bad that her dreams hang on Derrick’s faulty memory and a lie. Excerpt

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, setting down their coffees on the counter. “You look flustered. What’s going on?”

Jillian twisted her hands in front of her, trying to hold herself together. “Jason called me this morning. Derek has been hurt.”

The explanation made her think of the pain he must be suffering. “A car exploded, and he was hit by flying debris. He has a concussion. He’s in a hospital in Germany.”

“Wait a second, how did Jason know to call you?” Karen Ann eyed her suspiciously.

“That’s the strange part. Derek is claiming we’re married.” Jillian studied her friend. Could she pull off another lie?

“Married? That’s not what you told me the other night. You said that he left before you got married.”

She couldn’t do it. “I know, but with the blow to the head, his memory is foggy. He can’t remember anything about his last assignment.”

Karen Ann grabbed Jillian’s arm. “What have you done?”

“I told Jason we were married,” she confided tearfully.

“Why?”

She wiped at her tears. “What other choice did I have? He remembers marrying me. He wanted to marry me, he would have married me. I’m the one that got cold feet. I can’t let him down.” She begged for understanding. “You can’t tell anyone the truth.”

Karen Ann picked up her coffee. Jillian waited, uncertain as to how her friend would handle this news. “You know you’re asking for trouble.” She sipped her coffee then set it back down. “But you’re my best friend, so, yes, I'll keep your secret.”

She sighed with relief and hugged her friend. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” Karen Ann grinned. “So when is your husband due back?”

Jillian drew in a deep breath. “Saturday. I called Michael this morning and told him about Derek. He’s coming down Friday so he can drive me to Dallas the next day. We’ll close the store early on Saturday.”

“Does Michael know about the baby?” Karen Ann leaned against the counter.

“No, I wanted to save some news for when Derek gets home.” Jillian shook her head. “Jason already wants his brother to stay in Dallas to keep us apart. But I know he'll never go for it.”

Karen Ann’s eyes widened. “Then you want him to come live here with you?”

“Yes. Where else would he live? After all, we’re married,” Jillian reminded her friend, and tried to drill it into her own head.

Read First Chapter of "Pregnancy Plan" and Reviews  Purchase at www.smashwords.com www.kobobooks.com itunes.apple.com At Amazon www.barnesandnoble.com Remember to stop by my blog for more chances to win.

Egg-cerpt from Rogue's Hostage

Rogue's Hostage
By Linda McLaughlin
Historical Romance
 
4 ½ stars and a Top Pick from Romantic Times!
Romantic Times Nominee—Best Small Press Romance of 2003!
2nd Place - Lorie Awards - Best Historical Romance! 

His hostage... 
In 1758 the Pennsylvania frontier is wild, primitive and dangerous, where safety often lies at the end of a gun. Mara Dupré's life crumbles when a French and Indian war party attacks her cabin, kills her husband, and takes her captive. Marching through the wilderness strengthens her resolve to flee, but she doesn't count on her captor teaching her the meaning of courage and the tempting call of desire.
Her destiny...
French lieutenant Jacques Corbeau's desire for his captive threatens what little honor he has left.  But when Mara desperately offers herself to him in exchange for her freedom, he finds the strength to refuse and reclaims his lost self-respect. As the shadows of his past catch up to him, Jacques realizes that Mara, despite the odds, is the one true key to reclaiming his soul and banishing his past misdeeds forever.
 (Previously published by Amber Quill Press)
Excerpt from Rogue’s Hostage:

Holding the towel to his shoulder, he walked over and stood by the bed to check on the woman, who was still in a faint. Despite her pallor, he noted that her skin was fine, her nose straight and thin. She had a lower lip just full enough to entice a man to taste it, and a stubborn chin that dared him to try. Under different circumstances…

She was perhaps not as lovely as he’d thought when he first saw her standing in the clearing—her hair, the color of corn silk, shining in the sunlight. Still, she was tall and fair, with slender curves and shapely ankles visible beneath the short skirts of a farm wife.

And now she was a widow. He stared down at the woman and silently vowed to see that no more innocents died today.

The woman gave a soft moan and opened her eyes. When she spotted him, she shrank back against the wall, arms folded defensively across her breast. His gut tightened. He didn’t enjoy terrifying women, but fear should make her easier to control. She had already proven unpredictable.

Terror, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jacques Corbeau, lieutenant in the army of France. And you are my captive."

* * *
Mara inhaled sharply, panic building inside her. This couldn’t be real. It was all a bad dream. She would wake up soon and tell Emile about it, and they would laugh. And laugh and laugh and…. She swallowed the hysteria engulfing her.

"Madame, are you listening to me?"

The Frenchman’s voice, sharp and insistent, demanded her attention. "There is not much time. My companions are not patient men. We must leave soon, but first I want you to bind my shoulder. Where do you keep bandages?"

Her mouth and throat were dry when she swallowed, but she choked out an answer. "The trunk. Under the bed."

He squatted beside the bed, pulled out the trunk and rummaged through it. She watched his every move, unable to take her eyes off him, alarmed by the physical threat he represented.

He was a tall man who dominated the cabin as Emile never had, and his state of undress revealed nearly every inch of his lean and powerful form. Not only was he bare to the waist, but his breechclout and leggings failed to completely cover his thighs and buttocks. He had a wide-shouldered, rangy body and long, sinewy legs. He looked strong, virile, and infinitely dangerous.

A cold knot formed in Mara’s stomach. The French had killed her father and now her husband. What would they do to her?

She wrapped her arms around her waist. Her grandfather would say whatever happened was God’s will, but she rejected that idea. What kind of God allowed such awful things to happen?

Fearfully, she watched as the Frenchman shoved the trunk back under the bed and stood. He held out the bandages, and she froze. She couldn’t touch him, she just couldn’t.

The man’s heavy black brows drew together in a fierce frown, but his voice was without emotion. "Madame, I am all that stands between you and the men who killed your husband. I can be persuaded to act as your protector. It is to your advantage to do what I command."

He dropped the bandages beside her on the bed, then reached out to touch her hair. "Must I remind you, in my companion’s eyes, scalps are more valuable than live captives?"

Horror sliced through her fear. "Emile!" She shot off the bed and bolted for the door. The Frenchman caught her around the waist before she could reach it.

"It is too late, madame," he said in a hushed voice. "It is done."

"No," she moaned, as she fought to banish the image of a bloody scalp, raw flesh.

The Frenchman turned her toward him, holding her by the shoulders, and spoke in an insistent voice. "Listen to me and be sensible. You must be strong now. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Dazed, she stared at him. "A journey? To where?"

"Fort Duquesne."

Mara gasped. The dreaded enemy stronghold deep in the wilderness. She struggled to get free, clawing at his powerful arms.

He gripped her tighter, grimacing as he did. "Stop it! What chance do you think you have against three men? Do as I say and you will live. Refuse and…" He let the implication hang in the air between them.

Live. Yes, that was what she must do. She must bide her time and stay alive. Her brother would find her and exact revenge. But for now, she was on her own.

She straightened her spine and stared into the Frenchman’s eyes. "How do I know I can trust you, monsieur?"

He met her gaze, but a shadow darkened his eyes. "You have my word of honor."

Bitterness filled her. "The word of a Frenchman? What is that worth?"

"For the moment, madame, your life."

Rogue's Hostage is now available as an electronic download. For more information, go to http://www.lindamclaughlin.com/rogueshostage.html
 This is the next to last stop of my Rogue's Hostage Blog Tour. Leave a comment here with your email address to be entered for a $10.00 gift certificate of the winner's choice: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, etc. Contest ends March 3.
My thanks to Tina for hosting me today. Hope you are enjoying the Egg-cerpt Exchange.
 Linda  

Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of history fostered by her paternal grandmother and an incurable case of wanderlust inherited from her father. She has traveled extensively within the United States and has visited Mexico, Canada, & Australia. A lifelong dream came true with a trip to England where she was able to combine sightseeing and theater with research for her novels. A native of Pittsburgh, she now lives in Southern California with her husband. 
Her first book was Worth The Risk by Lyn O'Farrell. Now Linda writes historical and Regency romance. She loves transporting her readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the journey of life, love is the sweetest reward.
She also writes sexy to erotic romance under the name Lyndi Lamont.
Website: http://www.lindamclaughlin.com/
Blog: http://flightsafancy.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont
 Buy links

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00BJO26OY

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1005663623

Necessary End Egg-cerpt by Diana Rubino

A NECESSARY END is a paranormal twist on John Wilkes Booth's insane plot to assassinate President Lincoln. When Booth, under the guise of seeking spiritual advice, visits the President's medium to gather information about Lincoln's habits in order to kidnap him, a malevolent spirit begins to haunt and torment him, driving him to the brink of insanity. A mysterious coin also appears out of nowhere, and returns every time Booth tries to discard it. Each return of the bloodthirsty Roman coin brings increasingly terrifying events and eerie hauntings.

In the midst of these strange visitations, Booth falls in love with Alice Grey, a beautiful actress who's hired by the government to spy on him. She’s torn between her love for Booth and her duty to protect the President from assassination

It is a 'dark' paranormal because a malevolent spirit haunts Booth to assassinate the 'tyrant' as in Julius Caesar. But since I believe every situation, no matter how foreboding, allows for humor, I've added a few lighter scenes that offer the reader some much-needed relief. How can Booth's plot not leave itself wide open for humor? It was pure comic farce, how he recruited this motley band of adoring disciples and gave them each an assignment in his absurd conspiracy. Yes, Booth sure gets what's coming to him in the end.

I won a Romantic Times Top Pick award for a previous novel, and am the author of 13 paranormal and historical novels. The popularity of the Lincoln movie, Lincoln's birthday and Preident's Day inspired me to launch a giveaway of A NECESSARY END. Now it's on sale at Amazon for $.99.
You can see it here: http://amzn.com/B00AX9Y6NU

Excerpt:

Washington City, November, 1864

I don’t believe in ghosts, Wilkes assured himself as he listened to the high keening of the medium. He shivered as a draft wafted over him. Smoky incense intensified the gloom. He wasn’t at this séance to seek omens or cryptic guidance from beyond the grave. He was attending this charade to learn of Abraham Lincoln’s future.

He still ached with grief over his boyhood friend’s death. A part of his soul died along with John Beall, who was everything the South stood for. Rage over the betrayal seized his heart and boiled his blood. How could Lincoln do this to another human being? How could the President look him in the eye and promise he’d let John live, then murder him?
Wilkes fought to subdue these emotions. No phantom held the answers he sought on this bone-chilling night, just the bird-like matron entranced before him, Nettie Colburn Maynard. The medium was Mrs. Lincoln’s spiritualist, famed for her evenings at the White House “bringing back” their dead boys, Eddie and Willie. Wilkes had to admit she put on a good show. One thing he appreciated was fine acting. But he was wary. The parlor felt haunted as shadows crept up the walls. The hairs at the back of his neck already stood on end, and a chill slithered through his body. Although his hands were icy, his palms sweated, making them even colder. The room stood silent and musty as a tomb. The dank staleness assaulted him. His throat aching for a trickle of brandy, he coughed.
 

Mrs. Maynard’s eyes were shut tight. His own gaze darted about, unable to settle. Candles flickered jagged shadows around the room. Wallpaper patterns swirled to impenetrable fog. And the curtains...did they flutter, even though the windows were closed? 

“A spirit is present, Mr. Booth.” Her voice, almost a whisper, barely reached his ears. She exhaled feathery tendrils of steam in the eerie half-light. “It watches over you, seeks to guide you.” He felt her shoulders shake with violent tremors. “He was powerful in life, but more powerful in death, released of mortal frailty.”

Wilkes felt the dread of approaching harm, but sat too spellbound to get up and quit the whole thing. He guessed it was raw fear that kept him frozen in his seat. His voice, trained in delivery of lines, was suddenly struck silent. He had to admit she was gifted, the perfect witch for Macbeth. The funereal black dress draped her gaunt figure like a shroud. Shadowed by the pale flames, Mrs. Maynard played her role to perfection. Once again, he convinced himself it was all an act. But if it was real and some being from beyond really did hover over him…

Just then he realized his jaw was tightly clenched. He struggled to slacken it.
“He lived many centuries ago, Mr. Booth, and knew you by another name. He revisits you now, drawn close by your pain and grief. She shuddered again. Her grip crushed his hand, her knuckles white as bleached bone. “I feel his essence very forcefully, right there…” Her hands turned to ice. “Behind you…”

He nearly ripped a tendon snapping his neck around, but saw neither phantom nor flesh, just movement at the edge of his vision flickering up the wall. Threads of fear tickled at his nerves. Nothing was as it seemed. Turning to face her again, he felt foolish for succumbing to her trickery. An embarrassed blush heated his cheeks as the room temperature plummeted. He breathed deeply to calm his pounding heart.

“He will thrust you towards your true destiny, young man.”

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Thanks Diana for doing the egg-cerpt exchange with me,

Tina