Tracy Cooper-Posey's Blog, page 7

Free Space Opera from Cameron Cooper, if you’re interested!

Cameron Cooper is one of the writers on Stories Rule Press, and has a deal happening for the next week that I thought I would share with you. 

Cam writes mostly non-romance space opera.

The first book of Cam’s flagship Imperial Hammer space opera series, Hammer and Crucible, came fourth in Hugh Howey’s Self-Published Science Fiction contest this year, out of 300 curated and hand-picked titles that were allowed into the contest. 

So it’s a great book by any standards. 

If you like fun, upbeat space opera with a kick-ass heroine of a certain age, and a happy ending, check the book out.  It will be free only until January 3rd. 

You can pick up a copy on Stories Rule Press here.

Or you can grab a copy at your preferred bookstore here.

A new series begins!

Launching a new paranormal series on the Solstice is purely coincidental, but it’s lovely timing, all the same.

A few weeks ago, I told you about the poll I ran among readers in my Facebook group, that told me you would all be interested in a series that featured older women.

And further research led me to consider a Paranormal Women’s Fiction (PWF) title. 

I broke down this genre for everyone in a post, a while ago.  Have a read, if this is the first time you’ve heard of PWF.

And today, book 1 of my first PWF series is released on Stories Rule Press!

I’m just an ordinary, middle-aged woman, and my life is falling apart….

When did I become such a cliché?  I’m divorced, working a crappy job, living on next to nothing, and wondering how it all went so wrong.

Then it goes even more wrong.  My grown daughter turns up after not speaking to me for two years, with stunning news of her own, and to cap it off, I’m summoned to a tiny, isolated hamlet in northern New York called Haigton Crossing, where my mother has lived for decades.

Haigton Crossing looks like a throw back to another time.  For such a small place, it is stuffed full of secrets.  The people there are different, including the town’s doctor, Benedict Marcus.  And Haigton Crossing is way, way too small to host a murder….

This book is part of the paranormal women’s fiction series, Witchtown Crossing:

1.0: Crossroads Magic
…with more to come!

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction series of novels.

You can buy the book today from me, or pre-order it from any other retailer, when it will be released on March 21, 2024. 

If you’ve never bought from me at SRP before, look for the 10% Off coupon code on the front page, which you can apply to the book’s price for a discount. 

Or, if you’ve bought from me before (thank you!), you can use your reward points to earn a discount.  (You do not have to have a minimum number of points to use them.)

Buy Crossroads Magic from Me @ SRP!Buy Crossroads Magic from your favourite retailer!

 

Other Places to Find Good Books: Libraries

Library of Parliament, Ottawa

This is Part Six of a series:

Part 1: Kobo
Part 2: Barnes & Noble, Google, Apple Books
Part 3: Ask an AI
Part 4: Smashwords
Part 5: Subscription Services
Part 6: Fiction Apps

Libraries are yet another place where you can acquire stories.

I get a lot of email from readers who are on fixed incomes, or living off very low incomes, who would buy my books if they could afford them. I always direct them to check with their local library. And for the longest time, the reaction I got to that suggestion was: “But I prefer ebooks!”

And yes, your local library does lend ebooks. I think a great many libraries, particularly in North America, use Overdrive or Libby to manage their digital collections. Through these applications, you can download ebooks and read them on your normal reading device. The applications will return the books to the library when they’re due. Your library may allow you to extend your borrow period if you need more time, too.

Wherever your library is, they likely have a way of lending digital material. You might have to ask to find out how.

And if you prefer print editions, libraries are still collecting those, too. Plus, especially with romance novels, they often sell off older copies at ricidulous prices. I’ve picked up hard copy coffeetable editions of non-fiction for a dollar. I’ve seen romances selling for a quarter. Prices may vary from library to library, but I’m quite sure your library won’t be selling off books at full retail. So you can add to your keeper collection if you want, too.

Don’t forget the other libraries

You aren’t restricted to just your local library.

Check with any college libraries in your area. You might be able to acquire borrowing priveleges from those, and they often have surprisingly good fiction collections.

Membership of your local library might also give you borrowing priveleges at associated libraries. My local library gives me access to LinkedIn Learning resources, Hoopla, and a dozen other magazine and fiction resources.

Plus, check at the state/provincial and federal level — you might be eligible to borrow from these larger libraries and library networks.

—-

There are thousands of libraries you can access with a bit of detective work. And they have all been curating fiction for decades.

I’m so excited! First chapter of the new PWF novel!

I’m just so in love with the cover for the first book in my new Paranormal Women’s Fiction novel, Crossroads Magic.

We’re two weeks away from the release of Crossroads Magic on Stories Rule Press.  As usual, that means today, you can read the entire first chapter right here.

Chapter One

The only thing I was worried about as I headed back to my apartment building was the spot on the back of my hand where hot fat had left a burn the size of a nickel. Small, but mighty, the burn throbbed and ached, reminding me it was there. It was worse when the sun hit it, which it did frequently. It was one of those perfect, mild days in December, when you could actually see the sky over L.A. and it was blue.

Who am I kidding? The burn spot wasn’t the only thing I was worried about. If you were to ask me, I could rattle off a dozen major and minor problems, including the sumo-sized rat I suspect was trying to take up residence under my kitchen sink. But those were all chronic problems.

The burn on my hand was new and painful. I didn’t need new problems and was trying my best to ignore it until I could slather aloe vera gel on it. Marjorie, at the diner, had hacked off a leaf from the plant sitting in the pot outside the kitchen door when Deborah, the assistant manager, hadn’t been looking. Marj had wrapped the leaf in plastic. It was in my bag, along with the serving of pecan pie which Deborah had ordered the waitresses to throw out because it was too old. Three days old…there was nothing wrong with it, and it had more calories in it than the egg and toast I had lined up for dinner.

In this world that wasn’t the one I would voluntarily choose, today was turning out okay. Pecan pie, and Hobgoblin of History in my ears. I had been waiting weeks for book fifteen of M.K. Lint’s fantasy series. The library had doled it out to me yesterday and I was on chapter three. Harry the Hobgoblin was looking for the Fairy Eloise, this book; he’d lost her at the end of the last one, because he hadn’t closed the Doors of Eternal Flame in time and a demon had abducted her.

I like reading. I like it a lot.

My building was a white monstrosity that did nothing to enhance the L.A. skyline. The white had long ago turned to a stained, dull grey. Five years ago, a fire had broken out on the top floor and burned out a few apartments. The black smoke had billowed up out of the windows, staining the walls above them. The stains were still there and every time I saw them, I had to remind myself they were smoke stains, not black mold taking over the building. Black mold seemed more appropriate.

I turned off the audiobook, stashed my phone in my pocket and headed for the front door. I only used the front door when I came home from work. Usually, I used the side door, because it was closer to the bus stop.

There was another homeless person sitting on the front steps, leaning against the wrought iron banister as if they couldn’t prop themselves up, their jean jacket pulled in tight. It wasn’t that cold, although this late in the afternoon, any warmth in the day was beginning to fade.

I swung around the homeless person’s worn boots, and up the steps, digging out my key.

“Mom?” The voice wavered.

I whirled, my heart rate climbing, to face the woman rising from the steps, a denial on my lips.

Blue, short, spiky hair. A nose ring. Black eye makeup that had run…or that she had been wearing for too many days. The black looked like bruises.

“Ghaliya?” I asked, for the high cheekbones, narrow chin and high forehead were hers. So were the blue eyes—even if they were blood shot. The next question was right there, behind my teeth. What the hell are you doing here?

Ghaliya pulled the jacket in around her once more. She’d lost weight since the last time I’d seen her…two years, two months and five days ago. And about thirty minutes.

“The super said you’d be home around now,” Ghaliya said. She bent and picked up a small black backpack that had been sitting under her knees and straightened.

Was it possible she’d got taller? She’d been an inch shorter than me. I didn’t think she was shorter than me anymore, and I am nearly always the tallest woman in the room.

I didn’t ask why she was here. That was obvious. She needed help.

I hefted my keys instead. “You’d better come in.”

●

I live on the fifth floor. Apartments on the fifth floor and top floor got a 4% break in rent because the elevator didn’t work. It hadn’t worked since I had moved in.

Ghaliya was blowing like a bull by the time we stepped through the fire escape door into the hallway. I stopped, a touch concerned, and she put a hand on the wall, her head hanging down, and sucked in heaving breaths.

“You’re smoking now?” I asked her.

She lifted her chin and shook her head, still bellowing.

The man in the apartment across the hall from mine—late thirties, long hair, trimmed beard and nice teeth—an actor with a day job, I had guessed—strode down the hall toward the fire escape. He stepped around us, nodded at Ghaliya. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Hey.”

She nodded back.

I stared at him as he straight-armed the fire escape door and stepped through. I’d been living here for three years and he’d never once said a word to me. Not even a nod. I was invisible to him.

I’d become invisible not long after turning 40. Anyone scanning the area I was in would see all the younger women, and the men. Me, they’d dismiss as a middle-aged non-entity. After twelve years of not being noticed, I should be used to it. Yet every year it pissed me off just a little bit more.

Ghaliya straightened up from the wall. “I’m okay,” she told me. It took her two breaths to get it out.

I headed for the apartment, while selecting the key on my key ring, conscious of Ghaliya trailing behind me. She’d never been here, even though I’d taken the apartment the same month Jasper had announced our marriage was over. Ghaliya had chosen to stay with Jasper…although she had lived to regret the choice.

I pushed all the bitter old history out of my mind, unlocked the door and moved inside. I couldn’t help but compare the apartment to the house that Ghaliya and her brother, Oscar, had grown up in.

Ghaliya stepped in behind me, paused in the kitchenette and looked around.

I did, too, and saw the apartment the way she would see it.

The kitchenette was directly inside the door, with a miniature fold up table at the end, under the aluminum-framed window. Living area to the left of the door, that a full sized sofa couldn’t fit into. Bedroom off the living area, with a tiny bathroom coming off the bedroom.

I’d repainted the walls white, because they had been yellow from cigarette smoke when I moved it, and I’d hung cheap posters – I couldn’t afford frames. I’d studied the Ikea website pictures of tiny apartments for days when I’d first moved in. I could have Ikea-rized the guts out of this place and it would have been glorious, only I didn’t have a few thousand dollars to spare to buy all the furniture and bits and pieces it would take to turn the apartment into a tiny oasis.

I’d stretched to get a love seat and a bed, and had been slowly adding pieces here and there, most of them in a must-have priority order. Like coffee mugs. And a saucepan, as I like to eat hot, cooked food occasionally.

This morning’s dishes were still in the sink. Everywhere, on the floor, stacked up against the walls, and piled upon any flat surface, were my books, because bookcases were a luxury.

Ghaliya pulled her jacket in around her again. “Umm….”

Well, at least she didn’t say it was nice. Or worse, that it was cozy. Which it was, but we both knew that.

“Sit,” I told her, pointing at the tiny table. There was a second chair folded up and stacked against the wall under the window. I’d only wanted to buy one chair because no one but me ever came here, but there had been a sale, a second chair at half off. I sometimes used it as a step ladder to reach the upper shelves in the kitchen. My chair had my current books on it.

Ghaliya moved over to the table. She hesitated, then lifted up the leaf on the side where the chair leaned against the wall, bent, and swung the arms out to support it. That made the table about three feet across. Then she unfolded the chair and sat gingerly.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Starving,” she admitted.

There was a note in her voice that made me ask, “How long since you last ate?”

Ghaliya looked away from me, her gaze settling on the books on my chair. “Umm…breakfast,” she admitted.

“And what was breakfast?” I asked suspiciously. I moved over to the range and fired up a burner, and put the frypan over it. Then looked back at Ghaliya for her answer.

“I used the last of my cash for the bus ticket,” she said, her tone defensive.

“Bus fare is a dollar seventy-five.” I got the eggs out of the bar fridge, and the bread, and dropped two slices into the toaster on the shelf over the sink. “You only had two dollars?”

“Twenty-four dollars, Mom.”

I glanced at her, startled. “Where did you come from?”

Her red-rimmed gaze met mine. “San Francisco.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think what else to say. In the two years (and two months, five days and forty minutes) since she had told me to go to hell and left, I had always assumed she was somewhere in L.A. Somewhere where her father could help out if she needed it. Somewhere safe, with better appointments than this apartment.

My gut tightened. My chest squeezed. Where had my daughter been living? What had she been doing? Because she didn’t look as though she had been thriving.

I opened the half carton of eggs. I had three eggs left. She could have two of them.

I pulled out the butter, and dropped a tablespoon into the frying pan. It sizzled, a sound I got to hear all day at the diner. The burn on the back of my hand gave out a throb, reminding me it was there. I ignored it, and rinsed off the spatula from this morning. Then I dropped the eggs into the pan, and corralled them with the edge of the spatula.

As soon as they were behaving themselves, I got two plates down from the shelf and put them on the table in front of Ghaliya. I actually had four sets of utensils, because that was how many the package had held. I pulled two knives and forks out of the scrubbed-out soup tin on the back of the sink, and put them on the table with the plates.

Ghaliya moved the plates so they were sitting in front of each chair, and arranged the knives and forks on either side.

The toast popped and I put both slices on Ghaliya’s plate and fed another slice into the toaster for me.

Then I carefully flipped the eggs. Ghaliya hated runny eggs. So did I. Just call us weird, but if there was any sort of yellow glistening beneath the egg white, neither one of us could eat it. She’d started refusing runny eggs at the tender age of four, declaring them to be “gross” – one of the first words she’d learned.

And I spent my days cooking eggs sunny side up and watching customers slop their toast in the yellow glop on their plates. Ugh. To each, her own.

The eggs were ready just as my slice of toast popped up. I dropped the toast onto the plate in front of my chair, then slid the eggs onto each plate.

Ghaliya didn’t make any comments about the poor meal. Instead, she used the salt and pepper liberally, then picked up her knife and fork with a barely concealed eagerness. She’d eaten a mouthful and was loading her fork again by the time I moved my books out of the way—onto the floor in the corner behind me—and sat down.

Ghaliya finished before I was half-way through my single slice of toast and egg. She put her hand to her stomach and held still. It wasn’t an Ahh! That was good! expression she was wearing.

Her face turned greyish white as I watched. I put down my knife and fork, alarmed. “Ghaliya?”

She swallowed, her throat working. “Bathroom?” she croaked.

“Through the bedroom.” I pointed.

She jumped up, nearly overturning her chair, and ran.

I chewed my lip, worry making my gut twist. Any appetite I’d had was gone. I could hear her retching, and wanted to rush into the bathroom and wipe her face, and put a damp cloth on the back of her neck…all the usual mothering things one would do with their child.

But two years of silence was a barricade that kept me in my seat.

I ate the last of my egg and toast, because I didn’t want it to go to waste.

A few minutes later, Ghaliya returned to the table. Beneath the blue hair, which was damp and plastered to her forehead, her face was milk white, where it wasn’t discolored by smeared makeup. She was moving normally enough. She’d taken off her jacket.

I studied the two lines of intertwining rose garlands running up her arms, and underneath her tee shirt.

The tats weren’t a full sleeve. They were…well, if there was a tasteful way to get tattoos, this was probably it. The garlands and roses looked like…

I sat back, as I realized where I had seen them before. The garlands were the same as the white plaster molding that had run just underneath the banister railings in our house. The house we’d both once lived in.

Only Ghaliya’s roses were red.

Ghaliya sat down slowly and carefully.

I waited.

She put her knife and fork together and pushed the plate away from her. Not far, because there simply wasn’t that much room on the table. Then she looked at me. “I’m pregnant.”

She burst into tears. There was enough room on the table for her elbows, and she buried her face in her hands and wept, her shoulders jerking with the power of her sobs.

Screw the two years. I moved my chair around beside hers, and took her in my arms. Ghaliya wrapped her arms around my waist and wept even harder.

I’m just an ordinary, middle-aged woman, and my life is falling apart….

When did I become such a cliché?  I’m divorced, working a crappy job, living on next to nothing, and wondering how it all went so wrong.

Then it goes even more wrong.  My grown daughter turns up after not speaking to me for two years, with stunning news of her own, and to cap it off, I’m summoned to a tiny, isolated hamlet in northern New York called Haigton Crossing, where my mother has lived for decades.

Haigton Crossing looks like a throw back to another time.  For such a small place, it is stuffed full of secrets.  The people there are different, including the town’s doctor, Benedict Marcus.  And Haigton Crossing is way, way too small to host a murder….

This book is part of the paranormal women’s fiction series, Witchtown Crossing:

1.0: Crossroads Magic
…with more to come!

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction series of novels.

Crossroads Magic will be released on December 21st — the solstice! (how perfect is that?) — on Stories Rule Press, and on March 21, 2024 at all other retailers.  You can pre-order it everywhere right now.

Buy Crossroads Magic from Me @ SRP!Buy Crossroads Magic from your favourite retailer!

 

Who do you buy your print copies from?

There are a number of printers who produce Print on Demand copies of books these days.  Amazon is the one most readers have heard of.  But there is also Ingram, and Lulu Press.  And a newcomer to the scene, the British company BookVault, who have print facilities in the US, so I can print and send copies out using US shipping rates. 

I mention this because for many years, we all just accepted the POD editions that Amazon produced because there was no one else. 

But that is swiftly changing.  The print editions I sell on Stories Rule Press are printed by BookVault, and they are a beautiful quality, too. 

Also, the copies that Lulu Press prints are excellent and if ever I had to find a different printer, they’d be my go-to.

I use Ingram indirectly.  I release print editions via Barnes & Noble, and B&N use Ingram printing facilities for their print editions.  I’ve heard pretty good things about the quality of print copies from Ingram, which is why I felt comfortable using the B&N print facility for indie authors.

Amazon, though, has become problematic, which is why I’m writing this post.   I wanted you to be aware that if you buy print copies for your keeper shelf, or just because you prefer print, you might want to consider where you’re buying them from.

The last five books I’ve printed from Amazon have had issues.  This one I’m showing you, below, is just the last of them. 

As you can see by the sheen on the cover, there are a series of dings and punctures on the front cover:

When you open the front cover, you can see that the dings are deep enough to have punched through to the interior:

In fact, the impact of whatever it was, was so deep that two chapters later, you can still see the impressions:

Previous books have had scuffed covers, bent corners…all indications that the handling in the print shop is less than careful.

I can’t complain to Amazon.  There is no facility for communicating with them about the quality of a product.    I can ‘t even leave a negative review on the product page, because it’s MY product!

The only option I have is to return the book, which, from Canada, is a genuine pain  to arrange — I have to print out a return label, and I don’t have a working printer, and I have to pay duties and customs fees to send it back.

So I’m keeping the copies, but I’m also writing this post to give you a heads-up to watch the quality of the print books you buy, if you’re buying from Amazon.  And maybe, if you really care about your print copies and want them for a keeper shelf, consider where you buy them from. 

Unfortunately, I can’t recommend Amazon as a printer, any more….

It’s Just a Job – High Elves

This post is part of the “It’s Just a Job” series.

High Elves

__________

I have been running this site for over twenty years, since I first was published. The blog section of the site (that you’re reading now–and possibly, you’re reading it as an email), has had a couple of iterations. I started a blog when I was first published and many of the posts in this series were written then. The blog went away for one reason or another, but came back to life in a rush in March 2011. That’s because I began indie publishing.

I will be re-writing and updating the entire series. Because the posts from the original series were scattered across various locations, this will let me bring them back as a cohesive collection.

I may even add some species to the series, as I’ve been reading Taylen Carver’s fantasy novels, and they feature species I don’t think I’ve included in this series. (They feature a lot of supernatural and fantasy species!)

We’re starting with High Elves, although there is no significant order to how I’ll present them.

_______

Wikipedia defines High Elves as:

…a tall, slim and regal built race. They are seen as a noble race, and tend to be beautiful or handsome in appearance. Elves are a paled skinned race. Elves are strong and agile in comparison with humans and are often seen as more intelligent and wiser. Elves have a longer life span than humans do. Elves build refined weapons that are seen as master craftsmanship by other races. They use swords, bows and lances mainly they don’t like using crossbows or gunpowder weapons.

Wikipedia – altough the original entry has been adjusted.

High Elves should be instantly familiar to mass audiences everywhere in the world now thanks to Peter Jackson, who made them famous through his adaptation of The Lord of the Rings.  

J.R.R. Tolkein stole High Elves from Nordic mythology almost unchanged.  He even gave them an undying land to escape to when they were weary of Middle Earth

Tolkein’s Middle Earth is a version of Midgard, the Nordic mythological name for Earth.  In Nordic mythology, the High Elves live in Álfheimr, apart from humans, but they interact from time to time. Álfheimr is Tokein’s Undying Lands.

Elves in modern, popular fiction have grown beyond this sketchy cultural framework into a staple race of high fantasy.  They’re sometimes seen in fantasy romance, in urban fantasy romance and in paranormal romance.

Elves make great good guys and gals, and excellent romance heroes. Although they could also make very good bad guys….

My books that feature elves:

Any of the books in the Destiny’s Trinities series.

For most of my writing career, I have avoided writing about elves because it seemed too easy and too cliche to include them. Everyone was doing it, including Peter Jackson.

I may relax this prohibition in later series.

What are your favourite romances that feature elves? Tell me in a comment, below, so everyone else can see your recommendations.

Four days to Save. Here’s the Deets.

So, finally, I can tell you about the big deal going down on Stories Rule Press.  It is, of course, and as you probably suspected, a Black Friday special. 

Here’s the details.

All the Super-Bundles on SRP will be 40% off from Black Friday to Cyber Monday

The Super-Bundles on Stories Rule Press are unique bundles not available anywhere else.

There is one Super-Bundle per SRP author.  My Super-Bundle on SRP includes every single story I’ve ever published.  All of them.  If I have the rights to them, and they’ve been published by me, then they’re in the bundle.

It’s 180 books (current count).

And it’s 40% off for the four Thanksgiving weekend days.

Super-Bundles are unique not just because they’re only available on Stories Rule Press.  They’re also special in that you don’t get every single story jammed into one massive file.

You get all the books as individual books.  These are the commercial releases.  They’re not stunted, edited or different in any way.  So when you load them all onto your reader, you’ll see all the covers as they appear on any retail store.

Plus, the books are delivered by BookFunnel, so that means that all the books will be included in your BookFunnel library at https://My.BookFunnel.com, where you can see them all, and download at your convenience.

This deal will not be repeated or extended.  It will run for the four days only, and then it’s done.

Also, the 40% discount applies to every author on Stories Rule Press:

Mark Posey — hardboiled crime thrillers and espionage.

Cameron Cooper — Space Opera and SF Crime & Mystery.

Taylen Carver — Urban Fantasy and Contemporary Fantasy.

But that’s not all.

________________

All the Special Bundles on SRP will be discounted by 25% from Black Friday to Cyber Monday.

Similar to the Super-Bundles, SRP Special Bundles are themed bundles of full, retail books, that will be delivered by BookFunnel, or that you can download from your BookFunnel library.

For me, there are Special Bundles for every series and collection I’ve published.   If the series is still being written, then every book published so far is included in the bundle.  This includes origin stories and side stories that belong to the series.  If they’ve been published, they’re in the bundle.

So, for example, the Kiss Across Time series includes all 14 titles.  The historical romance series, Scandalous Sirens, includes the origins story, Lost at Sea, that readers usually have to sign up to my email list to acquire. 

And in my case, there is a “special” Special Bundle:  A collection of every paranmoral romance I’ve ever published.

For all the other authors at Stories Rule Press, there are special bundles of every series they have written or are writing, too.

You can use coupons and discounts.

If you have discount coupons for SRP, or if you have Reward Points from previous purchases, you can add them to the discount for a further reduction in price. 

Honestly, we couldn’t figure out a way to not allow coupons and reward points (we’re authors, not techies, Jim).  But, readers who aren’t already on our email lists and have already bought from us won’t have access to the coupons and reward points, so this turns out to be a nice bonus for you, our more loyal readers.

So have at it.  Use whatever codes and points you have.  And enjoy. 

More Information about Super-Bundles and Special Bundles

You can find more information about the bundles on the Stories Rule Press site, here. 

There is also a list of all the Super-Bundles and Special Bundles for every author.

Here’s a quick list of MY Special Bundles.

Adelaide Becket – Historical Suspense Series

Beloved Bloody Time — Futuristic Time Trave Vampire Menage Series

Blood Stone — Vampire Paranormal Suspense Series

Destiny’s Trinities–Vampire Menage Paranormal Romance Series

The Endurance–Science Fiction Romance Series

Go Get ’em Women — Action-Adventure Romantic Suspense Collection

Interspace Origins–Science Fiction Romance Series

Once and Future Hearts — Historical Fantasy Romance Series

Project Kobra — Romantic Suspense Spy Thriller Series

Romantic Thrillers Collection — Romantic Suspense

Scandalous Families-The Victorians – Historical Romance Series

Scandalous Scions – Historical Romance Series

Scandalous Sirens — Historical Romance Series

Short Paranormal Collection–Paranormal Romance and Supernatural Tales

The Stonebrood Saga–Vampire Gargoyle Paranormal Romance Series

Vistaria Has Fallen — Military Romantic Suspense Series

THEMED BUNDLES

Paranormal Romance Special Bundle

Watch for the emails on Friday

The deals are scheduled and will go live at one minute pst midnight MST, Friday, November 24th. 

And the deals will shut down at 11.59pm on Monday, November 27th, MST. 

On Friday, I will send a reminder email letting you know the deals are live. 

If you have any questions, fire away!

New Binge-able Fantasy Romance

I just love the covers Dar Albert has designed for the Once and Future Hearts series. I keep studying them and finding more and more cool details. For example, if you blow the cover up really big and just look at the border–the scrollwork and detail just in the border is amazing.

Then there’s the detail around the gems in the crown, at the top.

It’s like those fractal images that were all the craze in the twenty-oughts–where you can keep going deeper and deeper into the detail. Remember those?

If you don’t, here’s a sample:

You can find lots more if you search on Google for fractal images. Some of them have amazing colours, too.

Anyway; today Once and Future Hearts Box Three is released on all retailers, everywhere.

Buy from me at SRPBuy from another retail store.

Tip: If you buy from me, you can swing by the front page of Stories Rule Press and pick up the 10% off coupon code there. Or you can use your reward points for a discount.

Watch This Space

I can’t give any details at the moment, but I did want to warn you to make sure you check all my emails in the near future.

There is a big deal (in both senses of the word) coming up soon. It’ll be short-lived and, well, big.

More details soon.

Lest We Forget

Because I do a lot of historical research, I’m pretty familiar with the facts and consequences of World Word I, and the longer-term impacts of both World Wars.

But you don’t have to be a history buff to be aware that both wars are still the biggest, most destructive conflicts, with the highest casualties the world has ever seen.

I grew up honoring the military on Anzac Day — April 25th. Slowly, over the years I have been living in Canada, and have learned more about the World Wars, I’ve switched from Anzac Day to Remembrance Day. Anzac Day passes unnoticed in North America, for it honors a single country’s contributions, and in particular, a single campaign (Gallipoli).

Remembrance Day was established to commemorate World War I in particular, but other than that, it is inclusive. It honors all countries, all military, and every victim. It is simple in its message; Let us not forget. It is both a reminder, and a warning.

The warning is even more important as time goes on, for there are very few people still alive who remember WWII, who have been scarred by the horror and would do anything to avoid repeating it. Soon, there will be no one left who experienced the world wars, and that existential drive toward peace will be gone.

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Remembrance Day had its 100th anniversary a few years ago, and I marked the occasion by releasing a story based on that anniversary.

Time and Remembrance is part of the Kiss Across Time series, a vampire time travel paranormal series.

However, the story is completely standalone. You don’t have to know any of the characters or storylines in the series to enjoy it, even though it’s book 7.1 in the series.

Also, even though the series is somewhat steamy, there is nothing in this story that would raise hackles if you prefer your stories sweet.

I wrote it that way, so that everyone could read it.

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A special story marking a moment in history…lest we forget.

On the one hundredth anniversary of Armistice Day, Jesse Hall, United States Marine and unsung hero, finds herself among a group of time-traveling vampires. She has been directed there by a century-old letter from her great-grandfather, instructing her to introduce herself with the phrase: “I’m not wearing a red shirt.”

So begins a dash through time to save a man in the very last minutes of the Great War, which in turn will save eight million other lives…

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