Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 193

Frighteningly Good Cocktails for Your Halloween Party by Luna Joya

Frighteningly Good Cocktails for Your Halloween Party by Luna Joya
Here’s an easy party punch and a simple shot for your All Hallows’ Eve. For the spooky effect, I added a tiny amount of dry ice.
If you want a smoke effect, place dry ice in an outer bowl to hold your punch bowl. Add a splash of hot water to create 2-3 minutes of smoke effect. Handle with tongs as dry ice will burn your skin, and never allow guests to consume more than the tiniest bit.


Potion Punch
Serves 6-84 cups of cranberry juice3 cups of ginger aleTo go wicked, add 3 cups of vodka or spiced rum (poisoner’s pleasure)All chilled
Combine the juice and alcohol if desired. Just before serving, add the ginger ale.

Hexes and Oh’s
3 ounces of cranberry juice2 ounces of black vodka (Blavod)Slowly layer the black vodka over the cranberry juice to float the black on the red. Serve immediately.
Want more witches? Check out Tides of Time by Luna Joya for steamy romance, magic, sisterhood, and mystery.




Tides of TimeThe Legacy SeriesBook OneLuna Joya
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: City Owl Press
Date of Publication: 8/20/19
ISBN:  978-1-949090-45-1ASIN:  B07V21FVHL
Number of pages:  257Word Count: 84,000
Tagline: They must solve a past mystery to save their magical happily ever after.
Book Description:
A “good girl” witch hiding secrets from her family…
Cami wants a normal life. Or at least as normal as a life in a family of witches can be. She can’t tell her sisters about her violent ex. Or that she broke the first rule of magic to “harm none.” When her youngest sister asks for help unraveling the death of a 1930’s star abused by those she loved, Cami can’t say no.
A reformed bad boy who doesn’t know his own family’s secrets…        
Sam lives for his restaurant and coveted screenplay expertise of Hollywood history. He avoids the entanglements of relationships since even his own parents didn’t want him. But when the enchanting Cami needs his help to crack an unsolved mystery, he can’t resist. The closer they come to finding a killer, the more they crave each other. But someone is determined to stop them.
Can they solve the mystery before history repeats itself?
Amazon      BN



Excerpt All he’d thought about this week were her golden eyes, her scent, and the pull she had on him. He’d never experienced a connection on this base level to anyone or anything other than the ocean. It was crazy how she made him think of the call of waves and swells. She stretched her fingers to brush the nape of his neck. Sam stilled with every single nerve focused on that delicate touch. He almost lost control when she grinned a mischievous, sly smile and a dimple flashed. His breath caught as she pressed her lips to his and quickly deepened the kiss. He’d been wrong about her. She might be reserved and serene on the surface, but her passion was wild and bewitching. She was anything but the calm cool waters he’d expected. She was a riptide. Sam’s last coherent thought was how he’d be happy to drown in her before need took over.                        *                      *                      *                      *                      *Cami slid her fingers into the clipped hair at the nape of Sam’s neck, skimming upward to sink into his curls. Sudden hot desire flashed across her senses. She touched her tongue to his bottom lip and melted at his groan. He nudged her mouth open to tangle his tongue with hers. She smiled and nipped at him until she breathed in the smell of ocean air.For a second, she panicked. Had she lost control in kissing Sam and drawn on her power?She inhaled. This wasn’t her magic. It was Sam, his scent of saltwater mixed with that spicy alcohol hint she’d caught at the restaurant when he was near. It was dark, delicious, and intoxicating. She needed more. She reached for his shoulders to tug him closer and got distracted by the muscles there. She ignored the quick pulse of heat at the base of her neck. All she wanted to feel was more of Sam. She pressed against him and clutched his shirt. A door slammed somewhere in the building. He tore his lips away and lay his forehead against hers. Cami’s mouth trembled at the loss of his and the intensity of this newfound passion. He lifted his head. “Was that part of the research? If it was, sign me up.”Cami suspected from the roughness of his voice she’d gotten to him as much as he’d consumed her. She wanted to do that again as often as she could. His kiss was sexy and tempting, yet tender and giving all at the same time. There’d been an underlying need for more than physical contact. The sheer hunger in his kiss had been enough to make her crazy. She hummed over the seductive mixture and licked her lips for one last taste.Sam narrowed his eyes on her mouth, his gaze hot with promise. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we are never going to be allowed back here again.”                                                                                
About the Author:

Award-winning author Luna Joya writes hex and sex in The Legacy Series, a witch family saga of romances about kickass heroines and the men who love them.
Fluent in sarcasm and penal code, Luna prosecutes sex crimes and homicides by day and writes paranormal romance at night. She loves history, especially Los Angeles and Hollywood lore. A survivor of traumatic brain injury with steel body parts, she lives in SoCal with her combat veteran husband and their two-pound terror of a rescue pup.
www.lunajoya.com
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19335910.Luna_Joya
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Flesh by Laura Bickle - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular

“The Last Day of Summer”
When the sun moves south in the skyAnd the days grow shortLengthening shadowsPersephone walks through forest and fields.Like the sun.As she passes beneath branchesThe leaves redden.Where she walks, grasses grow brittle beneath her feet.The world knows that she, The force of life,Is leavingLike the sun.She moves through a field of spent wildflowers,Her fingers lingering on the astersAs the sun kisses the horizonShe opens a door in the earth.She steps down, DownSteps into the UnderworldInto darknessInto the embrace of her beloved HadesSetting like the sun.



FleshLaura Bickle
Genre: YA Horror
Date of Publication: September 19, 2017
ISBN: 9781537857992ASIN: B074XBJ697
Number of pages: 307Word Count: 76,573
Cover Artist: Danielle Fine
Book Description:
The dead are easy to talk to. Live people, not so much.
Charlie Sulliven thinks she knows all the secrets of the dead. Raised in a funeral home, she’s the reluctant “Ghoul Girl,” her reputation tied to a disastrous Halloween party. But navigating her life as a high school sophomore is an anxiety-inducing puzzle to her. She haunts the funeral home with her parents, emo older brother, Garth, their pistol-packing Gramma, and the glass-eyeball-devouring dachshund, Lothar.
Chewed human bodies are appearing in her parents’ morgue…and disappearing in the middle of the night. The bodies seem tied to a local legend, Catfish Bob, who has resurfaced in the muddy Milburn river near Charlie’s small town. When one of Charlie’s classmates, Amanda, awakens in the cooler as a flesh-eating ghoul, Charlie must protect her newfound friend and step up to unravel the mystery…and try to avoid becoming lunch meat for the dead.
          Amazon     BN     Kobo     iBooks

Excerpt
“Amanda, I…Oh.”            I don’t know what else to say. My brain just shuts down.            She is wearing the sheet, wound around her like a toga. It trails behind her bare feet, sort of like a painting about Greek goddesses I’ve seen in art books. She’s leaning over another body stored in the cooler unit on a cart. Her back is to me, and I can only see her pale skin and her burgundy-black hair shuddering.            “Amanda.”            She turns at the sound of my voice, seeming only to hear me for the first time. Her face is covered in dark blood. In her hand, she’s holding a big chunk of purple flesh. Her eyes are half-closed. The autopsy incision on the elderly body below her has been ripped open, and I’m pretty sure that what she’s holding is a lung.            “So hungry…” she murmurs.             I retreat until my back presses against the cold door. A whimper escapes my lips, and I drop the laundry basket with a sharp crack of plastic on the tile floor. This has to be a dream. A screwed-up anxiety dream that I’ll wake up from any moment now…            Amanda’s black eyes snap open. She stares at the chunk of flesh in her hand. “I…Agh…What’s going on?”            Lothar waddles over to her and begins to beg. Bile rises in my throat. “That’s Mrs. Canner,” I manage to answer. “She’s seventy-two and died of surgery complications for varicose veins. Deep vein thrombosis, I think. I don’t remember.” I’m babbling, trying to keep the bile down.            Amanda drops the lung with a wet splat. The dog scrambles to it and begins scarfing it down. Her hands are trembling. She presses them to her temples. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”            I nudge the laundry basket closer to her with my foot. “I brought you some clothes. And, um. Food. You should get dressed.”            I think I should be afraid. I think I really ought to be. But Amanda seems genuinely confused. She reaches for the clothes I’ve brought her. To be polite, I know that I should really look away. But I can’t move. I am not turning my back on her. My heart pounds, and I struggle to take deep, uneven breaths.            Amanda unwinds the sheet and slips into my clothes. Though I avert my eyes, I see that her shoulder and side are still torn open. But my mother hasn’t begun the autopsy yet, so there is no Y-incision across her chest and abdomen.             “Do you remember what happened to you?” I manage to ask. I congratulate myself for having a rational thought. Woot.
            Her voice is halting, and her brow wrinkles as she struggles to button my jeans. “I remember…something was chasing me. Jesus, it hurt…” Her hand comes up to her neck, and she seems to remember, fingering the edges of the wound. “Am I in a hospital?” she asks again.            I suck in a breath. “No. You’re at my house.” It’s not a lie. Not really.            She scans the room, as if registering the sight of the cadavers. “You’re the girl whose parents run the funeral home. The Ghoul Girl.”            “It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her.            “Why am I here?” Her breath makes ghosts in the cold air.             “The Sheriff found you, alongside the road.” That’s true also, even if not the whole truth. “I think we should get you upstairs, so you can talk to my parents…”            She shakes her head, and her dark hair slaps across her face. “No. I…Oh my god. I’m here because…somebody thought I was dead?”            I swallow hard. “Yeah.” 
About the Author:
Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology-Criminology from Ohio State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs. Her work has been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016.
More information about Laura’s work can be found at:
https://www.authorlaurabickle.com       

https://twitter.com/Laura_Bickle  
https://www.facebook.com/Author.Laura.Bickle
Newsletter Sign Up: https://goo.gl/TNgIjL
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Urbantasm Books One and Two by Connor Coyne #teennoir #magicalrealism

Urbantasm Book OneThe Dying CityConnor Coyne            Genre: YA, Magical Realism, New Adult, Teen Noir, Lit Fic
Publisher: Gothic Funk PressDate of Publication: September 6, 2018
ISBN: 978-0989920230ASIN: 0989920232
Number of pages: 450 pages
Word Count: 85,000

Cover Artist: Sam Perkins-Harbin,Forge22 Design
Book Description:
Urbantasm is a magical teen noir serial novel inspired by the author’s experiences growing up in and around Flint, Michigan.

Thirteen-year-old John Bridge’s plans include hooking up with an eighth-grade girl and becoming one of the most popular kids at Radcliffe Junior High, but when he steals a pair of strange blue sunglasses from a homeless person, it drops him into the middle of a gang war overwhelming the once-great Rust Belt town of Akawe.
John doesn’t understand why the sunglasses are such a big deal, but everything, it seems, is on the table. Perhaps he accidentally offended the Chalks, a white supremacist gang trying to expand across the city. Maybe the feud involves his friend Selby, whose father died under mysterious circumstances. It could even have something to do with O-Sugar, a homegrown drug with the seeming ability to distort space. On the night before school began, a group of teenagers took O-Sugar and leapt to their deaths from an abandoned hospital.
John struggles to untangle these mysteries while adjusting to his new school, even as his parents confront looming unemployment and as his city fractures and burns.

 “A novel of wonder and horror.”— William Shunn, author of The Accidental Terrorist
Amazon     Barnes and Noble


Excerpt Book 1
Chapter 1I have to become the Antichrist.I realized this one night when I was standing on an overpass looking down through a chain-link fence onto the expressway below. Blue neon light shined off icy puddles. The gutters were flush with slush. Empty houses, ragged wrecks, hung out on tiny lots to my left and right. Beneath me, the cars that this city had built were leaving it – some of them forever. Across from me, on a rusted trestle, a freight train slowly passed, bringing in the parts for more cars.As the train moved on through, I thought about Drake and about how God had fucked him over. How he’d fucked us all over. Then I thought about the house with Jesus graffitied on its side. Orange skin, blue eyes, green thorns. A welter of wounds. I clenched my jaw and my teeth squeaked together. Across from me, the train wheels squealed.If I wanted to save my friends, I would have to murder God.
Chapter 2                                                         This is mostly my story, but I’m gonna start out by telling you about what happened to Drake. Just so you know – just so you can see right off the bat – what a bastard God could be and why a lot of us had it out for him.In the summer of 1993, Drake had just turned sixteen.He was going to be a junior, and his horror-show-of-a-life finally seemed to be turning a corner. He’d been living with his dad and sister in the trailer park when his mom finally moved out of her little house in the Lestrade neighborhood. She’d given it to Drake’s dad. She knew damn well that he wasn’t going to pay any rent, but she didn’t care as long as he kept the kids. Now Drake would have empty houses next door instead of empty trailers. He, his sister, and his dad had filled a couple dozen Hefty sacks with all their stuff and dropped them in the trunk of their scraped-up Benedict.One trailer over, Sapphire watched, leaning back against the bent wall, her narrow eyes shaded behind her too-big sunglasses. She was a white girl, also sixteenish, with hair so light it glowed like tallow dripping from one of my mother’s candles. Blue eyes too, quiet laughter, nervous all the time, but silently thrilled to be growing up as fast as she could.“I ever gonna see you now?” she asked.“See me at school,” Drake said. “Summer’s done next week.”“Suck a dick,” she said and laughed.“Come over to my new place tonight. Come over, what, nine? Bring DeeDee. I’ll get Jamo and TK. Drinks from my dad. We’ll bust up that hospital like we said. I got gold now, you know. Crazy gold.”And he did. Drake wasn’t a Chalk – fuck those racist fucks – but they were a North Side gang wanting to sell some coke and E out on the East Side, and Drake was their man. Okay, their middleman. EZ set the whole thing up. Drake hated the Chalks but he liked the money and he also liked EZ. How could you not like EZ, talking the way he did? Dude had magnetism.Even before Drake had unpacked all his shit at the new place, even before the sun had dipped behind the swampy trees shadowing the creek, EZ pulled up in his moon blue Starr Slipstream. A sweet make and model for a blue-collar beater. Rust patches shaped like Martian mountains silhouetted against a dusty sky. EZ called Drake over to the window.“You straight over here, D?” EZ said. “This all new to you?”“Naw,” said Drake. “I got all the fiends back on Ash and I’ll get some here too. See my moms lived here years. Lestrade Hood. I know it. Every street. Every liquor store. Every squat the kids go to fuck.”“What about you?” EZ asked. “You gettin’ some, D?”“Not now, you know,” Drake said.“But you got plans on that.”“I don’t...”“You better stitch it up then. If boys don’t fuck they die.” EZ grinned without parting his pink lips. Crows feet in the cracks of his mellow yellow eyes. He was white-ish, but he had some black in him, too. It always struck Drake as funny when black kids joined up with the Chalks. Now EZ leaned out of the car, looking forward, turning to look back, taking in the whole street with its tidy ranches and its burnt-out wrecks. “Le Strayed,” he said, the tip of his tongue probing his teeth like he was rolling a Werther’s.How old is he anyway? Drake wondered. Older than Drake. Younger than Drake’s dad. It was hard to tell.            “You know,” EZ said. “Jesus was a fool to crawl up on that cross. God made the devil. Devil is God’s tool. Hammer in his hand. And the devil offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the Earth, and don’t you think that was part of Yahweh’s plan too? What you think woulda happened if Jesus had just said ‘yes?’  I bet we wouldn’t be slumming in Akawe.”Akawe is the name of this city.A poor city. A beat-up city. A car-making city an hour’s drive from Detroit, but then the cars it made left, along with the money, along with the people. Akawe.“I don’t know,” said Drake. “I ain’t religious.”EZ laughed. “No, you ain’t,” he said. “Here. I got something new for you to test for me. Make some night special. Full of secrets.”He beckoned.  Drake leaned in through the open window. In EZ’s palm, a sandwich bag with five white pills.“What’s that?” asked Drake.“A new thing,” EZ said. “Chalks call it O-Sugar. Kinda like E. Kinda not. Try it out. Give it some time. Don’t go to sleep. Gonna see the world through God’s eyes. Feel like Jesus would if he’d said yes to his good friend the devil.”After EZ signed off, Drake helped his dad and his sister unpack until the sun went down and his friends came over. They all sat on the front porch, passed a 40, smoked up, and put the pills of O-Sugar on their tongues and swallowed. They talked about music and cars and love and sex.About big old TK who had built a Frankenstein sedan from the soldered guts of four different cars.About DeeDee, sad-in-her-heart that this boy Shawn would never see a woman in her like she saw a man in him. “He’s on varsity, you know,” she said. Then, there was skinny Jamo with his horn-rimmed glasses. He kept farting. He said he liked the kids’ urinals best because that way his dick didn’t brush the puck.Drake didn’t talk much, though. He kept looking at Sapphire – her eyes, her face, her perfect nose – and he felt her laughter run his spine like blue notes down a keyboard. She was a song he hoped he might play some day, but not in a crude way. He hoped he was a conversation she might have.The kids’ hearts started to glow in their chests with a slow, soft burn. That was the beer talking. They walked down the driveway to DeeDee’s Aubrey. They left Lestrade and crossed the expressway into Anderson Park – brick houses, neat lawns, where the mayor and the college presidents lived – but even these exalted ones couldn’t keep St. Christopher’s Hospital open in crumbling Akawe. The hospital towered in the midst of the neighborhood, full of empty-dark windows and stern staring statues.DeeDee parked on a side street of prim Cape Cods and the kids walked the last half block to the hospital complex. Above them, the moon waxed, and the whole sky – the everything – seemed to unfurl and offer itself to Drake, limpid and tender. Is that the O-Sugar? Or just the weed? Drake swelled into the wide space of that raw and thrilling moment.TK led them across the cracked parking lot to the loading dock.They hauled up the service gate, slipped inside, and descended into the fluorescent-lit basement. There were seven buildings in St. Christopher’s, but underground tunnels connected them all. After hitting a few dead-ends, the kids found their way to the central building. The six-story main building with a floor plan shaped like a giant cross. As they climbed, floor by floor, moment by moment, the shadows around them expanded with opportunities, with regrets redressed, and the future converging upon their pasts. Infinities of little universes hid in the dark corners of that empty space, clear of matter but clouded with tension, ready to emerge.By the time they reached the roof, they all felt dizzy and disoriented. Before, their yearning spirits had stretched into each new second, each new room. But now that the potential for movement threatened actual motion – now that acceleration accelerated – they put their hands in their pockets and tried to slow down. The speed of everything was getting weird on them.“Babies, I gotta sit down!” said Jamo. They all sat. “I feel like, like sad and sore,” said Sapphire and she plucked at her hair.“Hold my hand, Saph,” said DeeDee, and they all held hands. Far off, the sound of a train rang out and, at that moment, the city lights opened wide like eyes, and the stars glowed and exploded, and heat spilled like syrup from above. Dust and clouds, spinning and shining with lightning and friction. Planetoids and asteroids whirling  with volcanoes down jets of solar steam. As the train whistle sang, its sound was compressed, compacted, tonally shifted upwards, higher, with panic. As the pitch got higher and higher, Drake felt better and better, and it terrified him. He climbed on top of himself – palms pushing down on his head – to hold his soaring heart in place, but the shadows everywhere slid up  convex hypotenuses from the streets below. They weighed down invisible tightropes that connected to the tallest buildings Downtown. Everything kept turning bluer and bluer. Turning to blue and purple.The shadows swung their arms. They were the remnants of that abandoned place, humanoid, with blue coins replacing their eyes. They had flown away when their owners checked out and went home or died at the hospital. Now, they returned, suctioned in, pulled back toward the points of departure. But as the shadows converged and became more humanlike, Drake’s friends had been reduced to matter and residuals. TK and DeeDee and Jamo and Sapphire had all lost their eyes and their ability to speak. Their faces had become smooth planes of flesh and, finally, pure fields of electricity. Small blobs, data balls, started to grow and divide. Oxygen bloomed. The kids floated – impossible! – but happening, and as they did the lights got brighter and brighter, heightened and compressed, flattened and overheated. “Sapphire...” Drake tried to say, and he leaned toward her, straining to see her features again. He wondered what had happened to him and his friends. What was happening around them. On every side. He imagined their height, sixty feet up. The death it represented.Then, as if in response, space itself pressed in and Drake felt himself stretched out over the edge of the building. He fell. He was falling. Yellow-blue parking lot lines dropped away behind him and approached. They got small. The last thing he saw before he hit were black streaks of grypanian spirals, dotting away and multiplying. The sky was a dome, but the parking lot was deep.


Urbantasm Book TwoThe Empty RoomConnor Coyne
Publisher: Gothic Funk PressDate of Publication: September 2019      
ISBN:ASIN:
Number of pages:Word Count: 175,000                                              Cover Artist: Sam Perkins-Harbin, Forge22 Design
Book Description:  

Urbantasm: The Empty Room is the second book in the magical teen noir serial novel inspired by the author’s experiences growing up in and around Flint, Michigan.
John Bridge is only two months into junior high and his previously boring life has already been turned upside-down. His best friend has gone missing, his father has been laid-off from the factory, and John keeps looking over his shoulder for a mysterious adversary: a man with a knife and some perfect blue sunglasses.
As if all this wasn’t bad enough, John must now confront his complicated feelings for a classmate who has helped him out of one scrape after another, although he knows little about who she is and what she wants. What does it mean to want somebody? How can you want them if you don’t understand them? Does anybody understand anyone, ever? These are hard questions made harder in the struggling city of Akawe, where the factories are closing, the schools are closing, the schools are crumbling, and even the streetlights can’t be kept on all night.
John and his friends are only thirteen, but they are fighting for their lives and futures. Will they save Akawe, will they escape, or are they doomed? They might find their answers in an empty room… in a city with ten thousand abandoned houses, there will be plenty to choose from.
Excerpt Book 2
In the perfect past, in the flushest years at Ellis Island, as overladen ships waked the gray waves and passed into New York Harbor, small groups of Greeks clustered at the prows  and pointed at the broad banks of twinkling lights in the distance.“Είναι ότι η New York?” they'd ask a deckhand orwhoever happened to be standing nearby. “Ya,” he'd reply. “That's Coney Island.”“Coney Island,” the emigrants repeated in awe, leaning out over the churning ocean to get a better look at their new home. It was sparkling bright, shimmering, these ethereal, auroral sparks in the morning twilight, murmured invitations from the Cyclone, the Wonder Wheel, to taste the delights of  the Boardwalk, of Luna Park, Steeplechase, Dreamland, and rapture on off of the Parachute Drop. The lights preceded the long queues, the dirty work, the discrimination against these Orthodox Christians with their swinging censers and their woolly bearded priests. In the hard years to come, the emigrants always held that first vision of Coney Island in their memories, because it was their first, unsullied glimpse of the Americas, and it had seemed to confirm the promise of a better life here. That's why, days, or weeks, or years later, having saved up scraps from their factory jobs, or having snuck small fortunes overseas, sewn into their threadbare jackets,  when they opened hot dog stands in the industrial cities of Southeast Michigan, they called them “Coney Islands.”That's the story I was told growing up. Like so many of our New World origin stories, it's pretty much bullshit. The immigrants called their wieners “coney islands” because they bought them at Coney Island, and the local Chamber of Commerce banned the words “hot dog” because they figured the stupid immigrants might think their wieners were made from actual dogs.But when the supposedly stupid immigrants arrived in Michigan and started selling their own coney islands in the nineteen teens, they decided to improve their product. Thus began a long process of prayer and experimentation, roots plucked from tiny backyard gardens, cattle slaughtered at the altar, with providential navigation toward the  apotheosis  of the hot dog.The core of this creation was the wiener itself, and from 1914 these were produced under arcane secrecy by the Richard Goerlich Bavarian Encased Meats Company, later known simply as “Goerlich's.” Perhaps as a nod to the melting pot that threw the German Lutherans in with the Balkanites, a Goerlich was made out of many animals. A puree of pork and beef with secret spices all pressed together in a lambskin casing, tied off and smoked over a hardwood grill. The pork content meant  that these Viennas could be grilled for longer than other  wieners without burning and shrinking. The spices were sweet and sour: traces of mustard, sugar, vinegar, and salt. When you bit into a Goerlich, you felt the skin snap before your  teeth  sank into its soft inner flesh.A Goerlich alone, however, was not enough to make the superior coney.  To turn a Goerlich into a coney, you had to   top it with coney sauce, mustard, and onions, on a fresh bun,  on a hot plate with a hot cup of coffee on the side. To do it  right, everything must be fresh. Even the mustard, the simplest ingredient, must taste as sharp as a paring knife and shine as bright as the sun. The Balkanites didn't just chop their onions into large, trapezoidal chunks. Onions were precision-cubed by calloused hands at half the speed of sound before being swept into oak barrels and sealed and chilled and called into use. Akawe Ashkenazi bakeries supplied the buns, which the Balkanites steamed before setting them onto waxed paper gracing elliptical china plates. The thick plates kept your food from burning your fingers. The thick cups kept your coffee from cooling off.I haven't described the sauce. I've saved the best for last. Finely ground beef heart and beef kidney, mixed with beef suet and more ground up Goerlich's, browned minced onions, and sanguined spices. Which spices? Cumin and chili powder and something else. Something magical. Nobody knows what but the coney chefs, and if they told then they would not be gods.The truth is, they may not have realized at first the specialness of what they had created. These Greeks, these Macedonians, these Albanians, these Rumanians had arrived in factory burgs to take up jobs in the factories and to serve the factory workers. The immigrants hemmed trousers, cobbled clogs, thatched nobs. They sold their coneys on the  side,  to earn a little extra, but soon they noticed that  the  coneys brought in more ducats than their other trades.This was filling food; as heavy as it was delicious. The X Automobilians, whether sweating in the foundries, grinding through midnight shifts at the metal center, or straining over dies and tools in bright light for hours, could fill up in five minutes with a coney and coffee. The perfect food for an assembly line town, as demonstrated by the ordering  shorthand that sprang into life like a new language: “One up” meant a coney with everything; a milestone of verbal economy and the inverse relationship of calories to syllables. So coney stands became Coney Island Restaurants. They  bloomed fruitful and fecund, increased in number. Multiplied across the earth and increased upon it.By the mid-twenties some three-dozen Coney Islands in Akawe served up tens of thousands of coneys a day built by hundreds of restaurant employees. Balkan assembly line workers bent over their stations for hours: one man grilled the Goerlich's, another steered it to its bun and plate, where the next station assembled the dressing, nothing written down, everything achieved with hands and voice, as demanding of speed and rigor as riveting.I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that there were so many Coney Islands that they were served over the river; two restaurants opened on the midst of the East Street Bridge and stayed there for decades. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that the Coney Islands were open 24-7-365. Once, during a flood, a Coney had to hire a security guard to watch the door because the owners had lost the keys years earlier.The Coney Islands thrived along the factory zones. They pulsed along the Akawe's main arteries. They anchored each neighborhood and kept their street corners noisy  all  night long, from the wail of the evening whistle to the chiming of the church bells.When the factories started to wither, the Coney Islands did too.
They held out longer than the factory jobs but, one by one, the great restaurants closed their doors. Midnight Oil Coney Island, Akawe Old Fashioned Coney Island, Delicious Coneys, Joe's Original Coney Island, and most of the others dried up through the 80s. By 1993, there were less than a dozen left.
About the Author:
Connor Coyne is a writer living and working in Flint, Michigan.        
His first novel, Hungry Rats, has been hailed by Heartland prize-winner Jeffery Renard Allen as “an emotional and aesthetic tour de force.”
His second novel, Shattering Glass, has been praised by Gordon Young, author of Teardown: Memoir of a Vanishing City as “a hypnotic tale that is at once universal and otherworldly.”
Connor’s novel Urbantasm, Book One: The Dying City is winner of the Next Generation Indie Book Awards 2019 Young New Adult Award.  Hugo- and Nebula-nominee William Shunn has praised Urbantasm as “a novel of wonder and horror.”
Connor’s essay “Bathtime” was included in the Picador anthology Voices from the Rust Belt. His work has been published in Vox.com, Belt Magazine, Santa Clara Review, and elsewhere.
Connor is on the planning committee for the Flint Festival of Writers and in 2013 he represented Flint’s 7th Ward as its artist-in-residence for the National Endowment for the Arts’ Our Town grant. In 2007, he earned his Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from the New School.
Connor lives in Flint’s College Cultural Neighborhood (aka the East Village), less than a mile from the house where he grew up.
http://urbantasm.com
http://connorcoyne.com
http://gothicfunkpress.com
https://tinyurl.com/connorcoynenewsletter
http://connorcoyne.com/blog
http://facebook.com/connorcoyne
http://twitter.com/connorcoyne
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4218298.Connor_Coyne   
https://www.instagram.com/connorryancoyne/  
https://www.youtube.com/user/connorcoyne   




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My Top Ten Favorite Dystopian Novels with Nikki Richard

My Top Ten Favorite Dystopian Novels
The dystopia works in the opposite way of the utopia. It’s an imagined world or society characterized by dehumanization, tyrannical powers, corruption, human suffering, and other regressions in society. The dystopia is a “worst-case” scenario; in many ways, it is a prophetic outlook on current social issues reaching their worst outcomes.

Dystopian literature has always fascinated me, and it’s my favorite genre to write. Here is a list of my top 10 favorite dystopian novels.

1. Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

2. The Giver by Lois Lowry

3. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

4. The Power by Naomi Alderman

5. The Core of the Sun by Johanna Sinisalo

6. 1984 by George Orwell

7. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

8. Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

9. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

10. Motherlines by Suzy McKeee Charnas



Demon in the WhitelandsBook One
Nikki Richard

Genre: YA Fantasy

Publisher: Month9Books
Date of Publication: September 24, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-948671-41-5ASIN: B07P9WMZQC
Number of pages: 358
Cover Artist: Danielle Doolittle
Book Description:
Sixteen-year-old Samuel, son of a devout cleric, has endured shame and prejudice his entire life. Though he is destined to follow in his father’s footsteps, he longs for an ordinary life in the whitelands away from talk of demons and holy roots.
When the mayor claims to have captured a mute demon-girl, Samuel is forced to become her caretaker. But as Samuel gets to know the prisoner, he finds her not to be very demonlike. Instead, she is intelligent, meek, and an exceptional artist. Despite her seeming goodness, some more concerning things cannot be ignored. Samuel is hard-pressed to reconcile her uncanny strength and speed, one missing arm, ambiguous gender, and the mysterious scars covering most of her body.
Samuel forms a deep attachment to the girl with predator eyes and violent outbursts, against his father’s advice. As their friendship threatens to become something more, Samuel discovers the mayor’s dark intentions. Now, he must decide whether to risk his own execution by setting her free, or watch as the girl is used as a pawn in a dangerous game of oppression, fear, and murder.
Amazon
            Excerpt:
After a while, the buck quieted its struggle. It panted wildly, its dark tongue hanging out the crack of its mouth. Samuel got to his knees, drawing closer. The deer twisted its neck in horror, its dark eyes watching him. They were wide and black. The eyes of prey.Samuel reached inside his jacket and got the knife.“It’s okay,” he said softly as he straddled the deer’s torso, making sure to fully secure him underneath his legs. The buck’s muscles twitched, but the creature could do nothing. How had the girl felt when she’d been caught in the bear trap, iron teeth snapping into her leg? Like the buck? Did she think she’d be free? Somehow, he couldn’t picture her as a deer. She was more like a scrappy wolf cub.Or a demon.

                     About the Author:
Nikki Richard is a sensitive queer writer with moods and coping mechanisms. An MFA graduate from the University of Baltimore, she lives in the city with her hot wife, amazing daughter, and fluffy cat.
https://www.instagram.com/nikkizrichard/
https://www.facebook.com/nikkizrichard
https://twitter.com/NikkiZRichard  






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Top Ten Favorite Book Series with Danube Adele

There are so many books that I absolutely love and have read over and over. I know I’m missing great numbers of books from this list, but since I have to stick with ten, I’m going with these. They are my top ten favorite series as I glance back through all my kindle titles trying to remember all of the books that have been meaningful to me. These are not necessarily in order:
1. Immortals After Dark, Kresley Cole
This series is filled with all the creatures from the lore, and you grow to love them all as they strive to find their fated mates and fight foes.
2. The Breeds series, Lora Leigh
The world Lora Leigh has created is one where humans have created a hybrid species of human and animal together. It’s a dangerous, yet exciting world with hot, sexy men and women finding love. 
3. Ghostwalkers, Christine Feehan
The sci-fi elements are wonderful. Men and women have been genetically altered physically and psychically, giving them superhuman abilities. There is government intrigue, dark and brooding heroes, and strong, badass heroines that have to work together to survive.
4. The Misters, J.A. Huss
This author is able to create a highly intriguing chess match of players that are all part of a larger conspiracy. It’s sexy. It’s hot. The characters feel real, and I’ve definitely reread a few of these books.
5. The Ice Planet Barbarians, Ruby Dixen
I discovered this series by accident, and the author had them coming out so frequently, I just couldn’t get enough.
6. Leopard series, Christine Feehan
My first shifter series. I love the idea of mates remembering each other from a past life, which gives an even greater feeling of intimacy and love through time.
7. Twist me, Anna Zaires
Who knew I could appreciate a darker romance? There were so many times I was internally conflicted by the action, particularly early on in the first book, but I came to love both characters in the end and often remember this book.
8. A Hoops Novel, Kennedy Ryan
Heart-wrenching and emotional, this book series got me in all the emotional places. I had trouble putting it down and ended up getting very little sleep before going in to work because I couldn’t put it down! 
9. Fifty-Shades of Grey, E L James
This was the series that taught me about hard limits and safe words. I was innocent in so many ways before I picked up the first one in the trilogy. 
10. The Pucked series, Helena Hunting
Sweet and sexy romcoms had me coming back. Fun banter, characters that were all familiar, and a desire to see all of them matched up with some amazing person because they are all so enchanting.


Dreams of a Fierce HeartDreamwalkersBook FourDanube Adele            Genre: Paranormal/Contemporary/Sci-fi Romance
Publisher: Danube Adele Publishing
Date of Publication: 9/9/2019
ISBN: 9781733191609
Number of pages: 470Word Count: 132, 843         Cover Artist: Evernightdesign – Elle Rossi
Tagline: She’ll do anything to redeem her honor, including putting herself in enemy hands; he’ll do anything to stop her
Book Description:
Fearless.
Some have called me impulsive, and maybe I was, much to my own detriment … at seventeen.
A social pariah in my own nation after being found in a fatally compromising position, I tucked tail and ran to Earth for study, work, and to heal my wounded heart. It took seven years for the opportunity at redemption, to earn my way back home, but it means infiltrating dangerous enemy territory. If the Brausa catch me, I might wish for a quick death.
My goals? I have two of them. Save my childhood friend, our Sunan leader’s last surviving daughter, and, get away from Nick Dylant. His deathbed promise to my older brother has him bulldozing into my life, making demands regarding my safety. He’s even found a way to force a marriage using some obscure, arcane law of old in order to protect me, but if he thinks he can force his will on me, he can think again. There is no way he’s going to control who I am or what I do in this world. 
I don’t need his or anyone’s permission to steal away in the middle of the night with a disguise, a rough map, and an even rougher plan of action, because one thing is for certain: I refuse to join with anyone who sees me as a duty, not when I’ve loved Nick since I was a child. Not when I dream about his kisses and crave his touch.
Apple     BN      Kobo      Amazon
  Excerpt                

My voice sharply cracking the air between us, I snarled, “You had no right to run him off. You had no right to threaten him with a beating. I saw what you put into his mind. Who the hell do you think you are?”            The only hint that he heard what I said was a slight narrowing of his eyes for the briefest of seconds. Then he turned his attention to the drink Greg had bought for me as though it were tainted. He completely ignored my outburst. “You aren’t going to drink that.” He made it a blanket statement. Firm. Like he had the right to do that.            “Wanna bet? Who’s going to stop me?” I hadn’t planned to drink it, considering my allergy. That is, until he’d told me not to. For some reason, he had the ability to piss me off on sight and give me childish thoughts of violence. Like, how much fun would it be to throw the drink right in his face? Again, I envisioned the complete shocked surprise that would transform his expression, his stormy eyes wide, his brows and lashes dripping with the sugary, citrus cocktail.            “I’ll stop you.” Casually, he grabbed the drink and set it on the tray of a passing waitress who barely noticed.            Fury burned like fire in my gut, but I hid it behind a cold smile. “You think I can’t go buy a drink when I want one? I can walk myself over to the bar and order whatever the hell I want, Papa Bear. Last time I looked, I was an adult woman with her own money to spend. I’m not a gods damned child.”            There was no change of expression. The grim look that seemed permanently etched on his face remained, but I did note that a muscle twitched along his square jaw, the only sign that I was getting under his skin, which gave me a hit of satisfaction. Then his full lips thinned, compressed into a tight line before he bit out, “Why the hell are you bent on causing a problem?”      “I’m not your problem. I’m not forcing you to stay. I didn’t ask you to do anything. You’re welcome to go finish your playdate with Ryder as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t invite you to sit at my table.” My own heart, acting like an innocent bystander, stuttered with dismay at my harsh words. It ached, squeezing painfully against my chest, but I needed to desensitize it. My heart was not in charge. It hadn’t been for years. If I was really going to move on, this had to be part of my therapy.
            Nick stared at me in silence for a few moments, his gray eyes roaming my face briefly, searching for something. Whatever he saw prompted him to say in an undertone, “You need a keeper.”
            “And if I did, it wouldn’t be you, Papa Bear.”            “Stop calling me that,” he snapped. “I’m not trying to father you.”            “The hell you aren’t. I’m having a perfectly nice time with a good guy, and you come stomping over and puff out your chest. You don’t have the right to tell anyone else whether I have plans for the night, and you sure as hell don’t have the right to threaten a guy with violence because he’s into me.”            “What does it matter? It’s not like you can date him. You don’t live near him.” He didn’t deny any of it. Wasn’t the least bit repentant.            I gave him my best, wicked smile, knowing this would thoroughly piss him off. “Maybe I just wanted to have sex with him. Sometimes, a girl needs a little skin-on-skin. Some body heat.”            His blue eyes turned glacial, flicking over the bodice of my dress where I’d grown more cleavage since my seventeenth year; his nostrils flared, and anger put a snarl to his words. “And we all know you aren’t shy about propositioning yourself.”            My smile never faltered when his poisonous dart hit the bullseye, but I had no control over the long-ago humiliation that washed my skin in violent, crimson shades, which he noted with a sudden frown, like he was about to take it back, but screw him. Throwing that in my face after all this time made my heart clench with a sense of betrayal. I kept my voice as light as I could, trying to brush it off. “That’s right. I did offer up panties to you long ago. I’d forgotten about that. How embarrassing, right? Because I’m like your sister.” I almost pulled it off but for the last word. My voice cracked, and the feeling of utter foolishness, something I was all too familiar with in relation to him, left me exposed.


About the Author:
Danube Adele wrote her first romance at the age of seven when she penned the story of her dogs falling in love and having puppies. She’s been dreaming up romantic tales ever since. A lifetime resident of southern California, she spends time playing at the beach, camping in Joshua Tree National Park, and hiking Mammoth Mountain. Always a lover of adventure, she and her husband took their sons on a cross country road trip to Florida and back in an old VW Westfalia, that had no A/C, in the month of July, and still, it continues to be the best trip they ever took. Extensive travel and trying new things has kept the creative spark alive. Danube lives with her biggest fans, her loving husband, amazing and wonderful identical twin sons, and a teddy bear of a Rottweiler.
You can find other books in the Dreamwalker series, Quicksilver Dreams #1, Dark Summer Dreams #2, Dreams of a Wild Heart #3, at www.danubeadele.com
www.facebook.com/Writer.D.Adele              
www.twitter.com/DanubeAdele
www.instagram.com/danube.adele/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7340150.Danube_Adele      

Character Interview - Merged by Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl #YASciFi

Character Interview: Orfyn from “Merged”
Interviewer: Why the name Orfyn?
Orfyn: I really am an orphan. I don’t want pity, and I’m not about to let anyone make me feel like they’re better than me just because they know who their parents are. So I made it my street name, and anyone who’s ever seen one of my paintings knows I have nothing to apologize for.
Interviewer: Some may think you sound cocky.
Orfyn: The nun who raised me would say, “Pride goeth before destruction.” But she also believes God gave everyone a special gift, and it would be a sin not to use it. I like to paint, and I’m good at it. I’m just lucky that other people like my stuff, too.
Interviewer: Is it true you only paint in oils?
Orfyn: For now. Something almost magical happens when you unscrew the top of a tube of oil paint. The smell, the texture, the rich color you don’t get with any other medium. Being a street artist, none of my paintings last long enough for them to fully dry. It’s like I’m showing the vandals that I’m okay when they tag over my work, because since it’s still tacky, it’s not really finished.
Interviewer: Is your goal to be a professional painter?
Orfyn: I already am. I have a lot of fans who follow me, and they make it a contest to be the first one to find my latest painting and post a photo of it. But I understand what you mean. Yeah, I’d like to see my work hanging in a museum. Be respected, and all that. I’m not sure how, but I’ll figure out a way to make that happen.
Interviewer: What you do is considered to be illegal. In fact, the mayor of New York City will pay for information leading to the arrest of people like you. How do you feel about that?
Orfyn: It’s wrong. I’m not disrespecting someone’s property, I’m turning an ugly wall into public art. Something beautiful that makes people feel good. How is that a bad thing?
Interviewer: With all due respect, not all graffiti is beautiful.
Orfyn: Art is about making someone feel. People get angry and frustrated and they want things to change. Their art is a reflection of those feelings. There’s a place for all of it.
Interviewer: Have you ever been in love?
Orfyn: Not love-love. But I want to be the guy who looks across a room, sees this amazing girl, and just knows she’s the one. She’s out there. I just haven’t met her yet.
Interviewer: One last question. Do you wish you’d been adopted?
Orfyn: Sure. But after a while you realize it’s not going to happen. That’s okay, although it would’ve been nice to have grown up with a dog. I’m going to adopt one someday. A dog that no one else wanted.
   Merged
Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl

Genre: Science Fiction
Publisher: Month9Books


Date of Publication: September 17, 2019


ISBN: 978-1-948671-34-7
ASIN: B07P7ST29L
Number of pages: 293
Cover Artist: AM Design Studios
Tagline: Great minds don’t always think alike.
Book Description:
Seven of our country’s most gifted teens will become Nobels, hosts for the implantation of brilliant Mentor minds, in an effort to accelerate human progress.
But as the line between what’s possible and what’s right draws ever blurrier, the teens discover everything has a cost.
Scientists have created an evolved form of living known as Merged Consciousness, and sixteen-year-old Lake finds herself unable to merge with her Mentor.
Lake, the Nobel for Chemistry and Orfyn, the Nobel for Art, are two from among the inaugural class of Nobels, and with the best intent and motivation. But when Stryker, the Nobel for Peace, makes them question the motivation of the scientists behind the program, their world begins to unravel.
As the Nobels work to uncover the dark secrets of the program’s origins, everyone's a suspect and no one can be trusted, not even the other Nobels. 
As the Mentors begin to take over the bodies and minds of the Nobels, Lake and Orfyn must find a way to regain control before they lose all semblance or memory of their former selves.
Amazon
Excerpt: Mr. Blue points to the document. “Sign this and change your life. Or don’t. It’s up to you.”“What happens if I say no?”“The Darwin Corporation will remain your legal guardian, but you’ll lose the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become one of humanity’s greatest hopes.” So basically, he’s saying I’m stuck here either way. “Will I always be locked up?”“That depends on your choices.”      I wait for him to crack a smile. He doesn’t. I break eye contact and flip to the last page. There’s one short paragraph stating that I’ve read the forty-one-page document (which I haven’t), I understand the risks (which I don’t), and I buy into the idea that two minds are better than one (or something like that). At the bottom, there’s a line with my name printed below it. “Is it dangerous?” I ask, really wishing my voice hadn’t cracked.Mr. Blue hesitates, and for a moment he almost appears human. “Every medical procedure has its risks, but the end result could change the world. And you’ll be one of the few who have the ability to change it.”What if I could become the next Michelangelo? I’ve been given the chance to create art that makes a difference. For now, and even hundreds of years to come. “What else can you tell me about Bat?” “He’s very successful,” Mr. Blue says, taking a pen from his suit pocket. “And he’s dying.”“Can you give me a little more than that?”“He specifically chose you.”Nobody has ever chosen me.

I grab Mr. Blue’s pen and sign the document using the name I’m adopting. If I’m going to share my brain with someone and become a ground-breaking artist, I’m doing it as Orfyn.
About the Authors:
Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl are a husband-and-wife team who write stories of mystery and adventure from their cabin in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. When they aren’t dodging moose, their story ideas appear during their walks with their dog, who far prefers chasing balls to plotting novels. Jim and Stephanie are world travelers who seek out crop circles, obscure historical sites and mysterious ruins.
www.jimandstephbooks.com/
https://www.facebook.com/jimandstephbooks/
https://twitter.com/JIMKROEPFL





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Character Interview with Svetlana from The Harvest of Her Life’s Summer by Veronica Gventsadze

Veronica Gventsadze: Today we have with us Svetlana, the mother--lovingly known as Mama--of  the book’s main character, Sasha. Svetlana, what was the biggest cultural shock for you when your family immigrated from Soviet Russia to Canada?

Svetlana: Oh, it was the wax on the apples. 

VG: Pardon..?

S: On my first trip to a grocery store in Canada I bought this beautiful apple, a sparkling gem, and I couldn’t bite into it! Were my teeth suddenly weak? Its skin was like wood. When I realized it was coated in wax, I laughed so hard I almost broke a rib. They took a living thing and tried to make it look and feel artificial, like those decorative plastic fruit! At the time it was hilarious. Now I’m so used to silly little things like that, I don’t even notice them. Don’t you think that’s sad?

VG: That they put wax on apples? Or that you don’t notice it any more?

S: Both! 

VG: Let’s talk about something happy, then. You recently visited your daughter Sasha in her home in Vancouver. 

S: Something happy, you say? The girl hides her nice clothes under a white gown, and pines after a gay man.

VG: The “girl” is thirty-seven years old. She’s a pharmacist, a highly respected profession. And the man is her best friend. Surely she enjoys spending time with him.

S: Yes, and he’s a good man, but she’s thirty-seven! Does she think she’s going to be young forever? It’s as if there’s a spell on her, and it needs to be lifted.

VG: Does she want a family? Children?

S: All women want that. Some realize this too late. I am trying to help her.

VG: You have someone in mind for her?

S: Oh, she’s too stubborn to accept any introductions, especially from me. What does her stupid mother know about love, right? But I’ve taken care of it.
VG: How?

S: The holy woman has received the letters. I am hopeful.

VG: ???

S: This holy woman was recommended to me by a friend. She can lift a spell of lovelessness, and has done so for many women who used to be unlucky in love. I had Sasha write the letters as required.

VG: Letters..?

S: Yes, describing the man she wants to meet. And of course I pray about it myself, but it seems that my prayers aren’t heard. 

VG: You are religious, then?

S: Of course I am. 

VG: Then don’t you trust God to provide what’s necessary? Why bring in this holy woman?

S: God can’t possibly look after everything. He helps those who make an effort themselves.

VG: Well, for Sasha’s sake and yours, I hope she meets a man you can both agree on. Before we finish, is there anything else you’d like to tell our readers?

S: I could give a lot of good advice, but people don’t listen. 

VG: Try us.

S: Don’t buy apples with artificial wax on them: it tastes like kerosene. Wait for the right season. In the summer and fall, sometimes they have these large boxes with apples straight from the orchard. Wait for those, they are worth it. 


VG: Thank you, Svetlana



The Harvest of Her Life’s Summer
Veronica Gventsadze


Genre: Women’s Fiction
Publisher: Wild Thorn Publishing
Date of Publication: August 12, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-948223-08-9ASIN: B07VZYSKWB
Number of pages: 444Word Count: 123000
Cover Artist: Glendon Haddix (Streetlight Graphics)
Tagline: “A bittersweet tale from Russia, with love.”         
Book Description:
Alexandra Baumann, a Russian immigrant in Canada, learns a painful secret her mother has kept for thirty years. Shortly before the family emigrated from the Soviet Union, Alexandra's father generated groundbreaking research that should have secured him fame and fortune but was appropriated by his boss. Alexandra’s single-minded drive to write Papa’s story threatens her prospects of romance and her relationship with Grace, her oldest friend. Now, Alexandra must bring down her guard if she wants happiness and the truth about what brought her family to the New World.
Amazon     BN     Kobo      Apple

Excerpt Alexandra put on a denim jacket and headed for the little mall with a sign for sushi. She placed her order for sashimi, miso soup, and a dragon roll, and sat listening to lulling music and the burbling of water in a tank that housed large decorative carps. Back at home she decided she was too hungry to assemble the dining table. She arranged her lunch on the countertop and pulled up a barstool, sitting sidesaddle like a lady on horseback. Look, Mama. See how gracefully I’m perched on this stool. And a fat lot of good it’s doing me. You really think men care for these things?            After lunch she worked as fast as she could, populating the condo with her trinkets, her hexes against desolation.             Alexandra heard beeping and opened her eyes to a strange room that contained nothing but a bed. She was lying on it, but instead of bedding there was a sleeping bag in which she was cocooned. Her mind shuffled the information with puzzled haste and produced the answer. This was her own bedroom. She’d tired herself out and had taken a nap, and now she’d woken up for the first time in her new home. That was fine, she told herself. She’d bought the place, and it was hers to fall asleep in.             Alexandra realized what had woken her up: the salvo of optimistic little beeps proclaiming the end of the drying cycle. She’d washed a load of laundry and had put it in the dryer before taking her nap. The idea was to make sure the appliances were working properly first thing after moving in. She got up and went to unload the dryer before the clothes cooled into a crumpled heap. She folded them on the bathroom counter, which was still empty except for a toothbrush, mug, and a vial of liquid foundation. The mug was from the Vancouver Aquarium, with a green tree frog perched on the handle, a tribute to her love of frogs and toads. It was a gift from a friend in Thunder Bay, given long before she suspected she would see Vancouver one day. At the time, her mental image of Vancouver Island was a green lawn the size of a golf course, an invigorating swim’s distance from the mainland. She didn’t realize until much later that the island was the size of one or two European countries, reachable only by passage on a ferry or by air travel.             The bottle of Christian Dior liquid foundation wasn’t cheap, but was well worth the price. She’d purchased her first vial back in Toronto and had wondered where she’d be when it ran out. It lasted two years and took her to the West Coast and to her first job out of pharmacy college. This was her second vial, now half-finished. She used it much more often now that she needed to look professional. She had long hair the color of ripe wheat, gray eyes behind glasses that were supposed to be trendy but made her look like a schoolgirl, and the wide potato nose of her peasant ancestors. She liked her nose for defying Mama’s aristocratic pretensions. Stretching, she looked around at her new bathroom. Such a waste. The claw-foot tub was clearly the focal point of the room, but Alexandra had never liked taking baths, greatly preferring showers. Taking a bath was just soaking in bits of your own dead skin. Disgusting. It seemed inappropriate to maintain such intimate contact with what used to be you. But people did it all the time and thought nothing of it, glamorous people like movie stars, so maybe Alexandra could learn, too.  It occurred to Alexandra that she was now the same age as her mother was when they first came to Canada. Mama was then a new immigrant with a gainfully employed husband, a ten-year-old daughter who would grow up in this new land, and a degree in Russian history that gave her precious few prospects for a job. By now they’d all acquired Canadian citizenship, but Mama’s soul would remain Russian. Alexandra was single, with no boyfriend let alone a husband, no great urge to get married at all, but with a pragmatic degree in a pragmatic profession that assured her a good living. Her life was streamlined to the point of minimalism, and—she wanted to believe—free from her ancestors’ hang ups that brought happiness to no one.             She finished folding the laundry as the sun came out and promised quiet evening light. The North Vancouver condo had a miniature yard that had looked like a park in the realtor’s photos. Alexandra knew well that such photos conjure up distance and depth, and didn’t begrudge the yard its actual petiteness. With this acquisition she was now a complete adult, with a mortgage to prove it. She unfolded a deck chair under the boughs of a cedar, leaving the screen door open for Tassy. Maybe Mama was right, and the cat really would appreciate a chance to walk about. But when Tassy in her obligate curiosity crossed the threshold, she was frightened by the sky, by the absence of a ceiling to this new room she’d entered, and she bolted back inside. It’s too late for her, Alexandra thought with relief and a tinge of guilt. The yard didn’t belong to Alexandra, it was strata lot, but that made little difference. The air, redolent with the sweet perfume of the cedars, was hers to enjoy, and the brilliance of young grass in late May was the same in this little yard as on the lawns of overpriced mansions in West Vancouver.  

About the Author:

Veronica Gventsadze worked as a conference interpreter and a university professor of philosophy before training for her current profession of veterinarian. Her fiction is inspired by lessons learned from nature as well as a childhood of shuttling between Soviet Russia and the free world.
www.Wildthornpublishing.com
https://www.facebook.com/Wildthornpublishing/   
https://veronica-gventsadze.com/
https://www.facebook.com/VeronicaGventsadzePage

Guest Blog- Binding Circumstance by Kelley Griffin #romanticthriller #romanticsuspense

Hi fang-tastic book peeps! My name is Kelley Griffin, romantic suspense author of Binding Circumstance (July 2019) and Entangling, Book One in the Kirin Lane Series (October 2019) and I’m here today to confess something not many people know about me. 

I’m certain I’ll catch a lot of flak for this, but with Halloween only seven Thursdays away, I can’t help it! 


I know we just met, but I need to admit something to you. I was once completely enthralled with vampires. Well, not all vampires, but a few.  

The year was 1987 and the greatest vampire movie ever made was released that year…
The Lost Boys.  

I know, I know, the cheesy lines, the late eighties hair and nonexistent special effects, but come on! I knew every lyric on the soundtrack and sang them all at the top of my lungs. I rocked the giant hair, the cast poster and I swear my best friend and I saw it in the theaters at least a half a dozen times (or so it seemed). 

But this movie really had it all—a decent plot, a romance smack in the middle, an underdog story and let’s not forget, Corey Haim, Keifer Sutherland and Jason Patric, plus all the other hot vampires (Dwayne and Paul were my favorites). I can still quote entire scenes, still hear the music at the beach party with the muscular, slicked guy belting it out, and I still remember Nanook, the wolf dog. Who didn’t desperately want a dog like that? I know I did.  

Some of the stars are gone now and all are middle aged, but man was I crazy about that movie. 

I’m not a fan of scary flicks, but ones that really get my attention have a good story line, an ending that I didn’t see coming and they give me anxiety all at the same time. Two that come to mind are from the early 2000’s and were M. Night Shyamalan films, Signs and The Village.    



If you haven’t seen them, you should. They’re both surprisingly emotional movies. Deep and thought provoking as well as frightening. When I’m fully engaged in a book or movie and it both entertains me and sticks with me long after it’s over, it’s a win. 

I strive to write books and characters that stick with you long after the last page and have depth and true surprise like my Leslie and Charlie do in Binding Circumstance. 

So…love it or hate it- what did you think of The Lost Boys? And what is your favorite Vampire book or scary movie, and why?

Find me at www.kelleygriffinauthor.com  I’d love to hear from you!

Thanks, 
Kelley Griffin



Binding CircumstanceKelley Griffin


Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Romantic Thriller
Publisher: Champagne Book Group
Date of Publication: July 29, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-897445-98-3ASIN: B07V3ZBFFD
Number of pages: 209Word Count: 79,236
Cover Artist: OliviaProDesign
Book Description:
To save the life of the man she loves, she’ll have to risk her own.
Costume designer, Leslie Carroll has mastered the art of flying under the radar. She’s had to, or risk being found by the psychopath who almost killed her.
When she literally falls into Hollywood heartthrob Charlie Erickson’s dressing room on her first day of employment, their mutual attraction is instant and undeniable. Despite his star status, Charlie is a sweet southern boy at heart, and for the first time in a long time, Leslie begins to think she has a chance at happiness.
When her harrowing past catches up to her and targets Charlie, will she run to save herself, or face her monster to save the man who is her future?
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EXCERPTWhen Leslie emerged, her anger remained, although most of it was aimed at herself. She’d let Christine’s words get under her skin. Truth was, she had become mousy. In high school, she’d been headstrong, bold, and daring. Then in college, thanks to unwise decisions, unspeakable things happened. Because of those things, she’d become paranoid and cautious. If she was being honest, more than a little mousy.That was the next item on her bucket list to change.As she walked back toward the line, the drone of machines had lessened.Frank’s skinny arms flailed around. He looked like a chicken fighting a snake. He spoke to a man, but because of the crowd gathered, the back of his head was the only visible body part. Angela too, appeared wild-eyed and pointing in her direction. Coffee churned in Leslie’s stomach. The crowd turned to stare as she trotted up.Mr. Miller stood like ice. His eyes narrowed. A hush came over the crowd of extras. Folding his arms, he glared.Great. What now?She swallowed hard. Mr. Miller cleared his throat and grinned like a cat. Slowly, as if he had nowhere to be, he sauntered toward his prey, ready to pounce. “Miss Carroll,” he said, steepling his fingers, “how pleasant of you to join us. Did you have a relaxing break?”She opened her mouth to explain. He held one finger in the air to silence her, then circled like a shark claiming its lunch. “Did you get autographs from anyone famous? Is that why you’re here, dear—to attract an actor? I hired you to do a job, not to fraternize with the famed.”The thirty or so extras gaped with delight as the torture unfolded. Frank’s face was lined with pretend sympathy yet smug, while Angela’s seemed more humbled. Blood drained slowly from Leslie’s face, and her fists balled. Damn. Her only crime was not finding the bathroom. It wasn’t as if she sought out the crazy.Mr. Miller circled one last time. He strutted a few feet from her, head cocked sideways. A faint smile drifted across his lips. Enjoying his assault, he resumed, “Miss Carroll, please share with the group precisely where you went for an hour and what you were doing?”She opened her mouth to speak, but everything she wanted to say, sounded crazy. Then it hit her. Leslie cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Mr. Miller, I’d love to tell you where I’ve been, but, you see, I signed a non-disclosure agreement. I’m sure you’ll understand, the actors I ran into would appreciate my discretion.”He reeled. Anger rolled off his skin like fog. His nostrils flared as he stomped back toward her. His face was inches from hers. “I had such high hopes for you, Miss Carroll. You came with such recommendation. Now I know you are not a team player, but someone who enjoys the spotlight. I’m afraid, I am going to have to ask you—”Gasps from the crowd rang out before he finished. She knew. Knew someone walked up and stood behind her. Normal range, but again, too close for her.“Mr. Miller?” Charlie’s familiar voice boomed.Her back straightened as if someone poked her. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the warmth from his body radiated through the back of her thin shirt. Or she was having a hot flash twenty years too early.His signature cologne, designed by someone else but stamped with his name, filled the air. A body-awakening musk mixed with a fresh rain. She shuddered. Instinct caused her to whirl around and step to the side, gaining a foot of distance between them. As she did, their eyes locked. Another chill racked her body. If she was lucky, he didn’t notice.One quick look at Charlie’s head cocked to the side and the question in his eyes—he’d noticed.Mr. Miller’s demeanor and voice changed, as if someone flipped a switch on his back. “Mr. Erickson, what a pleasure! To what do we owe this visit? Oh, I remember, you were to be measured today, weren’t you? Let me get my top assistant, Dana, and we will get that underway right now.”He brushed past Leslie, shooting daggers, when Charlie stopped him.“Mr. Miller, I’ve already been fitted by this young lady here.” He moved toward her, holding out an arm like an invitation for a side hug.Great. He was a hugger. When she mirrored his movement, only backward, she crossed her arms and shot him an apologetic nod. Questions arose again in his eyes. But this time, a sign of understanding accompanied it.Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets and examined her yet spoke to Mr. Miller. “She saved me time and embarrassment today.” Charlie’s gaze darted from the gawking crowd to Mr. Miller’s aggressive stance. Then he added, “I hope she was being commended for her efforts, rather than reprimanded.”Charlie slid a long look at Mr. Miller.Frank gaped, star struck, while Angela’s stare switched from the famous actor to Leslie and back.Charlie turned toward her. “I didn’t realize—wait, did you say today is your first day?” He shook Mr. Miller’s hand. “Nice catch. She’s an excellent hire.”Mr. Miller stammered, “Why…thank you, Mr. Erickson. That is generous of you. So Leslie measured you already?” Confusion laced his voice.“Leslie,” Charlie repeated her name.His slow, smooth voice rumbled with a touch of his southern drawl. Nothing could stop the flaming in her cheeks. Heat spread all the way to her ears. She wanted to disappear under the concrete floor. Her mind logged and registered all the exits. An old survival habit she couldn’t break.Fidgeting, she moved a baby-step farther out of his reach. He’d already made her shudder and his mind-numbing scent mixed with his unwavering stare had her terrified he’d touch her, and yet wanting him to at the same time.Yes, she was aware a costume professional by design must touch people. But it wasn’t her touching others that bothered her. It was not having control of someone else touching her. As long as other people stayed in their bubble, she was fine. But somehow, Charlie seemed unaware of the bubble rule.“Yes, Leslie did an amazing job of putting up with my shenanigans.” He turned toward Mr. Miller. “Could I have a private word?”Mr. Miller puffed up like a peacock. “Me? Well, of course, you can, Mr. Erickson.”Chin raised a notch, he walked a few feet away from the crowd for their chat. When he returned, he waved his hand in dismissal of the crowd. Frank shrugged and turned. Angela actually smiled toward Leslie. She beamed back. They’d not be getting the better of her today.Mr. Miller turned. His normal intimidating presence softened. “Miss Carroll, I owe you an apology. It was my understanding you’d gone missing.” He glared over at Frank and exhaled. “I should have considered the source. I had no idea you were recording measurements. Will you please accept my request for forgiveness?”“Of course, sir.”She offered her hand. Mr. Miller shook it as if it might bite him. Letting go, he raised one perfect eyebrow and added, “Interesting first day, wouldn’t you say?”“Yes, sir.” She exhaled, deeply grateful to still have a job.Straightening his suit jacket, he reverted to his more formal speech. “Mr. Erickson requested a private word with you as well. When you are finished, I would like for you to find Mrs. Godwin again and speak to her about your next assignment. That will be all, Miss Carroll.”“Of course, sir.”What does he want now? Leslie made her way from the crowd toward Charlie. He leaned against the edge of a drafting table. Strong arms were folded across his chest, his golden hair still messy, and his legs stretched out. He surveyed her as she came toward him, his eyes questioning, as if figuring out a puzzle. His I-told-you-so smile was enough to make anyone swoon, but she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pressed her eyebrows together as she neared him.He chuckled. Then in a low, sexy voice he said, “There she is. My elusive friend, Mousy—I mean Leslie.”“Mr. Erickson.” She nodded.“Charlie,” he stated, looking her dead in the eyes.This was a strong-willed chess match she was determined to win. “Mr. Erickson—was there something you needed from me?”“Not a fan, I take it?”“Fan of what?”“Me.”She shrugged. “I guess so, why?”He mimicked her shrug. “Just wondering. I know you’re not a fan of being touched.”He’d nailed her in five seconds flat. Her hackles rose. “Did you need something?”“You’re a mystery, that’s all. Most people in this town fight to stand next to an actor, name drop, snap pictures, you know the whole not-real fame thing.” He slid her a curious look. “But not you. It’s refreshing.”She nodded, then raised her eyebrows as if to say, your point?His smile faded, then rebounded as he mouthed the word “lunch.”Her eyes narrowed. She cocked her head to the side as she placed both hands on her hips. “You expect me to fetch your lunch?”He pushed off the table and took a cautious step toward her. Both hands raised in surrender, he looked hurt. “No, I want to take you to lunch. You know, for being discreet and not telling the world about the arrogant, pompous, windbag actor and his lunatic ex-girlfriend.”She bit her lip. She wanted to full-out cackle. An unstoppable grin fought its way through. It radiated across her lips, erupting into giggles she had zero hope of controlling. He lowered his arms. His warm eyes danced with laughter along with her.“I guess I should apologize for the pompous-windbag comment, eh?”“No way,” he said. “Besides, it was cute.”He examined her—too closely. The heat in his eyes caused warning bells to clang in her mind. Her laughter faded fast.Clearing his throat, he continued, “Please let me take you to lunch. Come on, Slim, you gotta be hungry.” His boyish grin made her smile. “What do you say? They make a mean salad at the Canteen downstairs.”Frank watched them with a mixture of respect and jealousy in his eyes. Perfect. Obviously, he was a fan of Charlie’s. Charlie didn’t notice. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice anything in the room but her. A few short years ago, she would’ve jumped at the chance to go to lunch with a famous actor.Not now.Shaking her head, she backed up. “Sorry. I just can’t. We’re slammed. Thanks anyway.” She turned on her heels toward the sea of human mannequins.“Hey, wait.”She turned back as he stepped close.“I’m sorry you had to listen to all that—you know, before with Christine. She’s such a…” The struggle between being honest and being kind washed over his face. Charlie tilted his head up as if his answer hung in the rafters. He gave the impression he was searching for the vaguest, yet most correct word in the English language.“Bitch?” Leslie offered, her lips curved upward.“Yeah. That’s probably the best one.”His wholesome laugh softened his jawline and lit up his eyes. She didn’t want to look away. He didn’t seem so intimidating or so famous anymore.Charlie bent toward her. “Listen, can I buy you coffee and a salad to make it up to you? Please?”She allowed no one except Nate and her father to touch her or be in her space. Charlie had weaseled his body closer to hers. Back inside her bubble. Breathe. Tiny beads of sweat trickled around her temple. He was only being polite, she reminded her brain.“No thanks, I’m more of a peanut butter and jelly type of girl anyway.” Leslie backed away, winning and grinning. She spotted Dana waving from the other side of the room. “Mr. Erickson, I gotta go.” Walking away, she sensed a gaze on her rear. Something about him staring both excited and terrified her.“Leslie?” he yelled.She stopped in her tracks and turned, hating how it thrilled her when he called to her. Turning on his Hollywood charm, he declared, “It’s Charlie—and I will see you around.”


About the Author:
Kelley Griffin is an author, mom to five sons, wife to a marine and a teacher. Her romantic suspense debut, Binding Circumstance, is the story of a young Hollywood costume designer on the run from her college captor who literally falls into an A-list actor's dressing room and into his heart. That is, until her harrowing past catches up to her and targets him.
Look for Kelley's Kirin Lane series in the fall of 2019. You can check out her webpage at www.kelleygriffinauthor.com
https://twitter.com/AuthorKTGriffin
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New Release: Merged by Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl #YASciFi

***** Great minds don’t always think alike. *****


Merged
Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl

Genre: YA Science Fiction

Publisher: Month9Books 

Date of Publication: September 17, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-948671-34-7
ASIN: B07P7ST29L

Number of pages: 293

Cover Artist: AM Design Studios

Book Description:

Seven of our country’s most gifted teens will become Nobels, hosts for the implantation of brilliant Mentor minds, in an effort to accelerate human progress. 

But as the line between what’s possible and what’s right draws ever blurrier, the teens discover everything has a cost. 

Scientists have created an evolved form of living known as Merged Consciousness, and sixteen-year-old Lake finds herself unable to merge with her Mentor. 

Lake, the Nobel for Chemistry and Orfyn, the Nobel for Art, are two from among the inaugural class of Nobels, and with the best intent and motivation. But when Stryker, the Nobel for Peace, makes them question the motivation of the scientists behind the program, their world begins to unravel. 

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As the Mentors begin to take over the bodies and minds of the Nobels, Lake and Orfyn must find a way to regain control before they lose all semblance or memory of their former selves.


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Viking’s Crusade by Sky Purington #timetravelromance #shifterromance #vikings #dragons

Viking’s CrusadeViking Ancestors: Rise of the DragonBook SixSky Purington
Genre: Time Travel Shifter Romance
Date of Publication: September 17th, 2019
ASIN: B07TDN7BZG
Number of pages: 253 pagesWord Count: 72K
Cover Artist: Tara West
Tagline: An alpha Viking dragon shifter and his fated mate struggle to save humanity in a riveting, passionate tale of courage, sacrifice, and perseverance.
Book Description:
Determined to help her sisters navigate an unraveling prophecy, Ava sets aside the sins of her past and heads to Winter Harbor only to discover she and her fated mate are the key to everything. The missing piece in an ancient vendetta that launches them on a revealing journey. A quest through time that heals old wounds and brings them closer together yet fuels the ruthless monster eager to claim her.
Pursued by their powerful enemy, Viking Soren Sigdir and Ava make their way back to what they left behind in another life. Not just a risky plot against their foe but the deep love they sacrificed so that other dragons might mate. Yet war still rages, threatening humanity. Rising up once more, they must face the darkness of dragonkind's home world and relive the crusade they once led if they hope to succeed.
Will they finally see through the Great Serpent's vendetta and win the war? Or will they have to forfeit love again to prevent their nemesis from unleashing his wrath on Midgard? Find out in Viking's Crusade, the action-packed epic conclusion of Viking Ancestors: Rise of the Dragon.

Amazon 

Steamy Excerpt 
“My cousin has always been fond of sex, and much to her parent’s chagrin makes sure everyone knows it,” Soren said. “But she means no harm. To her, intimacy is one of the better parts of life and should be shared often.” He glanced at Ava. “I tend to agree.”“I’m sure you do.” She shrugged. “I tend to think there are more important things to focus on in life. Sure, sex is okay, but it’s not that big a deal.”“Then you have not been with the right partner,” he said, as blunt as his cousin. “You don’t know that.” She shook her head, hardly believing she was having this conversation. “Besides, a person can have good sex then manage without it. It’s called self-control.”He led her into a cozy nook beneath a pine with a moss covered trunk. The intimate area had a cave of sorts carved into a monstrous rock on one side. Pine branches hung to the ground on the other. Like all places in the Realm, soft verdant grass grew where it shouldn’t. Not that she was complaining as she sat and looked up. “I used to enjoy sitting beneath the trees at my home in Lake Placid,” she mentioned, steering the conversation away from intimacy. “Then I went off to college and never got around to sitting under one again.”He lit a fire and sat beside her. “It is peaceful, yes?”“It really is,” she murmured. “Funny, maybe a small part of me was trying to bring that sense of peace to the rest of the world.”“By the sounds of it, you did.”“Here and there.” Not when it mattered most, though.“I would like to it see someday,” he said softly. “Your life…what you accomplished.”“You mean, look through my mind’s eye.” She tensed at the thought. It was one thing catching her thoughts, but to let him all the way in would mean him seeing first-hand the atrocities she had caused. “Maybe eventually.”“When you are ready,” he agreed. “Though it might happen against your will as it has for some of our kin.”“I know.” She met his eyes. “I guess I just want to put it off for as long as possible.” She shook her head, realizing it was for more reasons than one. “Not just for me but for you.”“You are afraid of the way I will look at you. That it will damage the way my dragon looks at yours, the connection they are so desperate for.” He shook his head. “But it will not, Ava. It cannot.”“You don’t know that.”“I do, though. As I said before, my dragon can only lend yours comfort and protect it,” he said softly. “Letting me and my dragon in will not push us away but pull us closer. It will allow us to soak up some of your pain…to help you find self-forgiveness.”“How can you know that when you’ve never had a mate?”“Because I have had a mate.” He brushed the back of his knuckles along her jaw. “You.” He searched her eyes. “Surely, you feel the growing connection. The intense bond.”“You know I do,” she whispered because she couldn’t quite find her voice. “Only our growing connection isn’t giving me a sense of confidence. Instead, I feel like I’m drawing closer to unbearable pain.” While she meant to keep it to herself, her inner dragon prompted her tongue along. “I keep getting this nagging feeling I’m going to lose you now that I’ve found you.”“You cannot let that stand in your way,” he said gently. “Instead, you have to trust it, allow the connection. In that, you will find peace.”“How do you know?”“Because I already feel it.” His fingers trailed down the side of her neck, causing a fresh spike of heat. “While yes, there is great risk, there is also certainty that this is eternal. That the connection we made on Múspellsheimr is ours for all time.” He tilted her chin until their eyes were aligned. “Our dragons will always find their way back to each other, Ava. So even if you lose me in this life, there will be another. I will return to you.”He certainly had a way with words, didn’t he? But they were true words said from his heart. She could see it in his eyes. Sense it in his soul. More than that, she could feel it in his tender touch.When his lips brushed hers, then he started to pull away, she stopped him.“No.” She kissed him again, wanting intimacy. Needing it. She straddled his lap, cupped his cheeks, and kept kissing him. Maybe if she stayed in control physically, she could emotionally as well. That, she realized the moment she felt his rock-hard dick between her thighs and her dragon roared to the surface, was definitely wishful thinking. It wasn’t just the contact down there but the passion of his kiss that had her emotions all over the place. That made her want to sob with pleasure.In fact, a tear actually trickled down her cheek.While she intended to brush it away, that became the last thing on her mind when he growled into her mouth, grabbed her ass and ground against her. Their kisses intensified, and fierce lust coursed through her. She began trembling with overwhelming need.She had never felt this way, even in heat. Never so blindingly desperate to have a man inside her. But then, it had been a long time. Yet this went beyond not getting laid. Her vision hazed red, and she clutched at his jerkin, frustrated he still wore it.This was something else entirely.
It was a frenzied craze of need that snapped any control she might have had left in half.
About the Author

Sky Purington is the bestselling author of over forty novels and novellas. A New Englander born and bred who recently moved to Virginia, Purington married her hero, has an amazing son who inspires her daily and two ultra-lovable shepherd husky mixes. Passionate for variety, Sky's vivid imagination spans several romance genres including historical, time travel, paranormal, and fantasy. Expect steamy stories teeming with protective alpha heroes and strong-minded heroines.

Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington. Interested in keeping up with Sky’s latest news and releases? Either visit Sky’s website, www.SkyPurington.com, subscribe to her quarterly newsletter or sign up for personalized text message alerts. Simply text 'skypurington' (no quotes, one word, all lowercase) to 74121 or visit Sky’s Sign-up Page. Texts will ONLY be sent when there is a new book release. Readers can easily opt out at any time.
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