Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 377

Spotlight and Giveaway Far From Hollywood by Daisy Harris

Far From HollywoodOut For YouDaisy Harris
Genre: MM Contemporary
Publisher: ARe Books
Date of Publication:  6/1/15
ISBN: 978-1-943576-03-6ASIN:
Word Count: 52,000
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
Book Description:
Pretending to be someone else is easy. The hard part is keeping it real.
Sheriff Jack Francis finds the last thing he would expect in the small town of Pookataw Valley, Idaho—a gorgeous yet troubled movie star on a bender. Though Jack is intrigued, he can’t afford to draw attention to his sexuality and risk a scandal.
Former teen idol Blake Tyler thinks hiding in Pookataw Valley is perfect—it’s isolated, beautiful, and comes with a sexy sheriff eager to share Blake’s bed. When Hollywood arrives in Pookataw Valley to film a reality show, Blake embraces the chance for a comeback, but Jack struggles to know what is real and what is faked for the camera.
If Jack wants to date America’s Sweetheart, he’ll have to make his private life public. Is he ready to share the spotlight?


Excerpt:
Blake shivered in the April wind, rubbing his arms and wishing the sequins on his G-string weren’t chafing his ass. With quick and frozen fingers, he picked at his wedgie. Barefoot, he hopped from foot to foot on the fake wood porch where he was hiding from the party. Vail Village surrounded him and the Western facades were faded in the moonlight, but with a warm glow coming through their windows. If he didn’t get inside the party soon he’d get hypothermia, and any hope he had of avoiding a media frenzy would disappear.
He could imagine the headline—“Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Teen Scene star, Blake Tyler, raced to the hospital…after an orgy at elite Vail hotel.”
Of course, the party raging just on the other side of the sliding door wasn’t an orgy at all. The invite had said, “Dress like a porn star,” but while most of the B-list guests milling around with cocktails in their hands wore leisure suits or puffy jackets over shorts or bikinis, Blake had been an idiot. Trying to get attention, or maybe convince a director that he no longer was the seventeen-year old heartthrob from Teen Scene, Blake wore nothing but pink underwear and nipple tassels—a mistake on his part. On his nearly-thirty-year-old body, the sequins looked ridiculous.
Anyway, Blake should have known there’d be at least one gossip blogger at the party waiting to strike like a snake. Since Blake’s contract for the Teen Scene franchise included a morality clause which prohibited scandalous behavior and revealing his true sexuality, one picture of Blake in a sparkly G-string would be enough to ruin his whole career.
He peeked through the window, where the shades were parted just enough for Blake to see a prominent blogger stalking the room like a hyena. He wore a pair of aviator sunglasses and a crooked sneer.
Fuck. Blake couldn’t go back inside.
Glancing around at his options, he spotted a trellis not far from the porch. Though he might scrape his hands, Blake could probably climb down. Maybe the exercise would warm him, too.
Next to the lone lawn chair sat a plastic crate, and Blake opened it. Inside there was a pink Snuggie. He rolled his eyes. Perfect. I’ll match. Blake draped it around his shoulders and tied the sleeves around his neck.
Then, like a travesty of a superhero, Blake clambered onto the porch’s railing and stretched to reach the trellis nearby. It was close, but not close enough. Blake said a prayer and launched.
His fingers scraped wood, but with panted breaths he managed to get a hold of the trellis. Unfortunately, his Snuggie flapped in the wind and there wasn’t anything Blake could do about it.
Below in Vail Village, people were milling around in the streets, but Blake tried not to peer down. They probably couldn’t spot him in the dark. Instead, he focused on putting his toes into the prickly holes in the trellis and feeding his body lower, hand over hand. He told himself he was imagining the shouts and gasps he heard from below. After all, he could barely focus on anything besides the sound of his breath and his slow progression downward.
When a siren broke through the night, Blake couldn’t deny that someone must have reported they’d seen him. Hurrying, he shuffled lower, ignoring the splinters in his hands and the cuts on his feet. It wasn’t until an authoritative voice called through a loudspeaker, “We’re coming to help you, sir, stay where you are,” that Blake twisted and looked behind him.
A dozen cell phones were raised, their flashes sparkling like snowfall in the night. Above the other voices, Blake heard a squeal of, “Oh my God, it’s Blake Tyler!”
And then his arms went weak, and he fell.


About the Author :
Daisy Harris was born into the psychedelic wonder that was the 70s and has had an interesting life so far. She's been to Catholic school and Ramones concerts; danced to MC Hammer and Lady Gaga; and been a hair's breadth from shipwreck twice. (Three times, if you count sea kayaks!)
As far as Daisy's concerned, the best things in life happen by accident. Though she's gotten better at planning over the years, she still writes, lives and plays by the seat of her pants. Her books are a happy mix of romantic comedies and coming of age stories, more often than not, inspired by the great films of the 1980s.
Daisy lives in Seattle in a house full of dogs and children. When she's not writing gay romance, she can be found experimenting with new ways to cook kale. Every once in a while, she goes out to pay homage to the party gods of her youth—and maybe to find a little trouble.
For more information on other books by Daisy, visit her official website at: www.TheDaisyHarris.Tumblr.com
Website: www.thedaisyharris.com
Twitter: @thedaisyharris
FB: https://www.facebook.com/daisy.harris.31



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The Do It List by Jillian Stone

The Do It ListBook 1Jillian Stone 
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Publisher: Jillian Stone
Date of Publication:  June 19, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-9963459-1-0
Number of pages: 334Word Count: 90,000
Cover Artist: Jillian Stone
Book Tagline: 10 sexual encounters. No strings attached.
Book Description:
Hotshot copywriter Gracie Taylor-Scott has a reputation—for her artfully edgy ads. A rising star at Darcy Wexler Dean, New York, the long hours are perfect cover for Gracie’s fear of intimacy issues.
Great job. Great pay. No life—including her on again off again sex life. Then one night, she is plunged into darkness with a handsome stranger.
Bradley Craig is the new head of DWD’s research division, and this ad man has secrets of his own. Much lauded in his field of consumer behavior, there’s a darker side to the attractive ad man—his erotic, list-maker side.
Gracie and Bradley are assigned to work on the biggest new business pitch Darcy Wexler Dean will be in all year, and the two tangle immediately, battling copy concepts and focus group findings along with their explosive attraction to each other. 
Bradley has a proposition: they make a list. Ten erotic sexual encounters, no strings attached. What’s at stake? Two Super Bowl spots and two fragile hearts.


Amazon

Excerpt:
“Close the door, Gracie.”I checked the hallway through the floor-to-ceiling glass by the exit. No one was about. Coworkers were in their offices, filling out time sheets, getting ready to call it a day.I shut the door with a soft click.“I believe there’s a light switch on the wall.” He used a huskier voice, more like the elevator Bradley.I pressed the controls, and the conference room dimmed enough not to be seen by passersby, as long as we kept things quiet. Nose to the door, I stared at the smooth, matte-black surface. “I know things got a little heated––” I stopped myself and cringed. Was I talking about last night or the testy words between us several minutes ago? And since when weren’t things heated between us? I sucked in a calming breath and exhaled silently.It occurred to me, this attraction to Bradley might well be the hottest, most erotic experience of my life. I pivoted away from the door to face him. “Sorry I can’t be more enthusiastic about creative testing, it’s just that I’ve been screwed by research in the past, and not in a good way.”Bradley flopped down on the sofa and raked me over with his gaze. He patted the seat next to him. “You and I need to build some trust.”I approached slowly. “Have you any idea how many focus groups I’ve sat through where smirking research geeks underlined every word or phrase that didn’t test high enough—some of them the best words and phrases I’ve ever written in my life?” I dropped my bag on the floor for emphasis. “Just once, I’d like to believe research has my back.”He clasped my wrist and tugged. “Since we’re going to be working closely together…” He pulled me lower. I settled a knee to each side of his thighs and straddled him. It was about time I climbed on the man. “How close?”“Intimate close.” He easily worked through the buttons of my pants.“You’re staring at my belly button.”“You have a piercing.” His gaze turned darker, hungrier—as if I were a mocha chocolate truffle and he had a craving for Godiva.



About the Author:
Jillian Stone was born a storyteller. A skill that got her into considerable trouble as a youth until she solved the problem by becoming an advertising creative. And the career did seem to suit her as she won many national ad awards including the Clio and the New York Art Director’s Club Gold. What more could she ask for? Create her own worlds? Become goddess of her own universe? Yes! So, she began to write fiction. Her Victorian Romantic Suspense novel AN AFFAIR WITH MR. KENNEDY won the 2010 Golden Heart and sold to Pocket Books. Her sexy, controversial steampunk novel THE SEDUCTION OF PHAETON BLACK won the 2010 Romance Through The Ages Erotica category and sold to Kensington Brava. Jillian lives in California and is currently writing a new spin-off novel to the Gentlemen of Scotland Yard series as well as book #2 in the DO IT LIST series.
Website: http://jillianstone.com    
Twitter: @gJillianStone https://twitter.com/gJillianStone
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/JillianStoneBooks
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4946569.Jillian_Stone
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Giveaway- Succubus: Shadows of the Beast T.W. Mordrake

Creating a Memorable Character
T.W. Mordrake

Often students and readers ask me how I come up with my characters.  This is a difficult question to answer because my characters come to me.  Sometimes I have a vague idea of who the person is, but the more the character interacts on the page, the better I understand her or him.
In Succubus: Shadows of the Beast, a new character shows up later in the book.  He’s a mountain of a man and a seasoned vampire hunter.  He was notplanned.  Wollinsky simply shows up, knocks on the door, and BAM! I get the first peek.  Bit by bit, this vampire hunter is revealed to the other characters and to me.  He shares some of his backstory about vampires that he’s killed in other countries.  By the end of the novel, I realize that not only has this character made his place in the book, but also he’s destined to have a book written about him and the vampires he’s slayed around the world.  He intrigues me that much, so yes, he will have a novel sometime in the future.
But what makes a great character?
A reader needs to develop empathy for characters.  One must feel a connection that makes you want to know more about them.  If we cannot identify with a character, we ultimately won’t care what happens to him/her.  When that happens, readers stop reading.
If you’re a novice writer, here’s something you might consider.  Interview your character.  See what makes her tick.  What does she like or dislike?  Her favorite foods?  Write out a detailed character sheet that describes hair color, eye color, scars, dimples, height, weight, etc.  You need a good visualization of her in order to paint her on the page for the reader to see.
When your character does something, why did she do it?  Ask her.  Sounds strange, but you need to know the reasons for her actions.  Did she react that way because of something in her past?  What were her relationships with her parents, teachers, and siblings like?  Often, knowing these things about her background and history helps the writer relate to the character and her surroundings.  The worst thing a writer can do is having a character act outside of her true nature.  Readers catch that quickly, so make her and her actions believable.
People can argue the many factors into what makes a great story, but I’ve learned over the years that strong believable characters are the backbone of what drives the plot forward.  No one likes cookie-cutter characters.  2-D characters are dead on the page.  Flesh them out.  Let the reader see the characters and relate to them.  Then, you have a story worth reading.

Thanks for allowing me to guest blog.  For readers who might be interested in other books I’ve written under a different name, please “Like” my FB page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/TW-Mordrake/741088412677706 .  Send me a PM and I’ll reveal my secret.  ;)
Succubus: Shadows of the BeastT.W. Mordrake
Genre:  Paranormal and Urban Fantasy
Publisher:  Nocturnal Trinity
Date of Publication: May 16th, 2015
ASIN: B00WV6L28A
Number of pages: 475 pagesWord Count: 138,000 words
Cover Artist: Ravenborn
Book Description: 
Entering the real world after college often educates one to the true horrors of the harsh obstacles life has to offer. For Kailey Yates the discoveries are far more terrifying and dangerous. Two days before she graduated with a degree in investigative journalism, her brother Vincent is found dead in his swimming pool with a syringe stuck in his arm. His death is ruled as a suicide, but Kailey doesn't buy it.
She suspects Vincent's new wife Cassie is the one who actually killed him. Her suspicions are drawn from his rapid health deterioration during his short six month marriage. During one of her last Skype conversations she had with Vincent, Kailey's roommate Raven witnesses their conversation and immediately senses that Vincent is being soul-drained by a succubus. Since Raven is a witch, Kailey has no doubt about her friend's perception and concludes that Cassie must be the demon responsible.
Kailey leaves Boston and flies to Seattle for her brother's funeral. While there she investigates the circumstance surrounding his death. She uncovers dark information that leads her to Nocturnal Trinity, a nightclub in the heart of Seattle. And worse, the underground club is run by a powerful alliance of vampires, demons, and witches that wish to protect Cassie at all costs, which includes killing Kailey or anyone else if necessary.
Warning: Adults 18+ due to adult theme/scene.

Available at Amazon


Excerpt: Chapter One

Kailey Yates knew that her brother Vincent would never have killed himself had it not been for his new wife, Cassie.  And yet, Kailey stood at Vincent’s graveside while the workers prepared to lower her brother’s casket into the cold ground, his final resting place.The gray overcast Seattle sky with its chilly swirling mists set the mood for the burial and the gloom that also possessed her broken heart.  The towering leafless oaks in the cemetery were sinister skeletons forewarning that the dangerous kiss of winter’s death would soon settle over them, harsher than ever before.One never escaped death, but sometimes death came too early with an unfairness that made Kailey want to scream at the heavens from her inner rage and loss.  After all, her brother had been a successful attorney in his early thirties and destined to become the first in their family that had graduated from college to live a prosperous lifestyle.  He was never a man who entertained suicidal thoughts.The workers and his ritzy friends from the Langston Law Firm had come out in great number.  She estimated no less than one hundred people had arrived.  Never had she seen so many expensive suits and vehicles.  Coming from a modest middleclass family, she never imagined she or her brother would rub elbows with the upper class of society, but he had been adamant that they would be wealthy and worked painstakingly to get them there.While the priest gave the eulogy, the men and women stood stoically silent, their eyes staring at Vincent’s casket.  The priest finished speaking and led the audience in a proper prayer, praying that Vincent’s soul found forgiveness and mercy for leaving this world by suicide.How fitting, Kailey thought, wringing her hands.  Blame the innocent for what the murderer did.While the others respectfully closed their eyes, she gazed around, trying to see Cassie, but the two men standing in front of her sister-in-law blocked Kailey’s view.  Moments after the priest finished his lengthy ill-placed prayer, the wealthy people mingled to hug, shake hands, and chat.The slight breeze swirled Kailey’s long reddish-brown curls, forcing her to pull her hair back and letting it fall onto her back and shoulders.  Her jaw suddenly tightened, hiding the wrinkles that deepened into cute dimples whenever she smiled.  Her hazel eyes suddenly blazed with anger and vengeance.Across the grave Cassie stood dressed in a form-fitting black skirt that accentuated her perfect curves and perhaps distastefully revealed more leg than what was suitable at a funeral for one’s husband.  Her tight long-sleeved jacket cut off at her midriff, revealing her well-defined abs.  She wore black-netted hose and velvety black high heels.  Hell, streetwalkers wore more clothes in this cold weather.Cassie hid her pale face behind a white handkerchief and sobbed.  Kailey understood how a man might be immediately drawn to Cassie’s exquisite beauty.  Her slender oval face with high cheekbones gave her a regal presence even at this dismal funeral.  She carried herself with the utmost grace, in spite of her poor choice of attire, but she also had a seductively dark energy radiating from her.When Cassie’s dark eyes met Kailey’s, Cassie lowered her hands and meekly folded the handkerchief.  Her tearless eyes weren’t even slightly tinged red.  A bit of amusement curled Cassie’s pouty lips.  An odd flicker of recognition blazed in her eyes and hinted slight detestation, even though they had never met in person.  Kailey felt the resentment and didn’t understand why, unless Cassie had somehow figured out that Kailey suspected her of murdering Vincent, which Kailey did.  Perhaps Cassie read it in her eyes.  Or worse, perhaps this she-devil could read Kailey’s thoughts.Moments later, Cassie broke their connection and returned to her fake sobs, wiping at her eyes with the cloth in a way that demanded pity from the solemn onlookers.One of Vincent’s former attorney friends wore a gray pinstriped suit and overcoat.  He approached Cassie to console her.  He was trim with brown hair, a firm jaw, and offered a tender smile as he spoke to the widow.  She buried her face against the man’s chest.  Obviously surprised by her approach, he gently patted her back from an awkward distance, but Cassie aggressively wrapped her arms around him.  To lessen his discomfort in the situation, he finally leaned in closer and embraced her.She nuzzled against his chest, reached beneath his jacket, and clung to him.  Her body shook with what people nearby might consider being violent heaving sobs.  He rested his chin atop her head and whispered.  His hands gently rubbed her back, and she seemed to calm at his touch and gentle words.  She stopped sobbing and became less broken.Don’t you see that those tears aren’t real?  A slight breeze rustled Kailey’s long flowing brown hair.  Instead of remorse for her brother’s death, she felt a growing resentment toward his widow.  A bitter taste came to the back of her throat, and she fought the rising gag reflex from seeing this woman’s blatant slutty behavior and utter disrespect for her husband.  What did Vincent ever see in you?Kailey also battled the growing urge to march across the cemetery and rattle the woman with several jabs to Cassie’s face and swift punches to her stomach.Another place.  Another time.Kailey’s sister-in-law, even now, wore little makeup.  Her lipstick was a bright red hue, which made her pale reflection appear even lighter.  Her raven hair was neatly styled with silver pins and sprigs of Lady’s Breath.  Her pretend tears had not smudged the dark mascara around her eyes, and with her ashen complexion she resembled a corpse better than her brother probably had at his viewing.  To others, even the hundred or more attending the funeral, she appeared stately, reserved, and the perfect widow.Well played, Kailey thought.  You’ve fooled them, but not me.Cassie was a cold parasite that had preyed upon Vincent, seduced him into marrying her, and then taken his life to possess his wealth and million-dollar estate.  Kailey couldn’t act on her suspicions alone.  She needed proof.  The coroner had ruled her brother’s death as a suicide, but she believed it was not.  Relevant details had never been disclosed to her, and she wanted answers.Vincent had been murdered.  Cassie had killed him, made it look like a suicide, and Kailey was determined to prove it.




About the Author:
T.W. Mordrake writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Fantasy.  A lover of all things mystical, T.W. explores the strange, unusual, and haunted places in the U.S., which lends to the underlying charm for writing about the paranormal creatures that lurk in the dark shadows of night.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/TW-Mordrake/741088412677706
@TWMordrake

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Interview and Giveaway Hunting for Witches by Lana Pecherczyk

Hunting for WitchesThe LudusBook OneLana Pecherczyk
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Creative Cartel Publishing
Date of Publication:  April 25th 2015
ISBN: 978-0994313911ASIN: B00V2IBYYA
Number of pages: 424Word Count: 106,124
Cover Artist: Lana Pecherczyk
Book Description:
Witches have been obliterated - or so the world hopes. At 24, Roo struggles to keep her DNA-changing abilities secret. She doesn't feel like a witch, but if she isn't, how can she manipulate the physical world? Why does she feel the energy of all living things?
On tenuous ground, Roo keeps her skills hidden with the help of her sexy songstress BFF and her barmaid job at The Cauldron. Hiding in plain sight seems to be working until a mysterious witch hunter comes to town. Roo's powers are growing and, when a witch possesses the body of her sister, she defends her using any means possible.
Roo is exposed and attacked from all sides. She must learn to trust others while she discovers her identity and masters her powers to save the lives of her loved ones. She needs to convince herself and her town that she's more than a witch.
Inspired by mythology, science and fantasy, this fascinating debut novel is set in a brilliantly envisioned world where life is a secret game played by gods and witches until death ...

Available at Amazon



CHAPTER ONE The Key

It wasn’t a key. Well, it looked like a key to the ordinary person, but I wasn’t an ordinary girl. Instead of a key, I saw a chance and my lifeline to the universe.‘So, what’s it gonna be, key?’ I blew on it, like it was lucky dice about to be cast in a game of craps. Only, I wasn’t going to win money, just my independence. I held my breath and chewed my lip. Well, here goes. Up in the air it went, rotating in slow motion across the blurred backdrop of my hallway. Rows of black photo frames begged for attention, but I kept my gaze on the key. The cold metal hit my shaky right palm and I closed my eyes. Here goes, I can do this. One eye opened, then the other.Smooth side up. Fuck. My bottom lip trembled. I had to stay. A surge of defiance raced through my body. No, screw that, I hadn’t survived three years of persecution and prejudice to chicken out now.I inspected my mauve nail polish chipped from a hard day’s work in the vineyard. That wouldn’t do, I had to look presentable for work at the Cauldron. I imagined a beautiful new set of nails, strong, healthy and a glossy aubergine. As the vision formed, neurons fired in my brain, signals travelled down my spine, my arms and hit my nails, reshaping them before my eyes. The tips grew to perfect curves, the colour darkened and spread to cover the entire nail bed. I smiled, that was more like it. Witchcraft wasn’t so bad, if you ignore the part where being caught would mean a death sentence. I touched the probation collar at my neck. I wasn’t out of the woods, yet.I curled my fingers into fists and punched the air, ready to take my future into my own hands. Now or never. I rounded the corner to the kitchen and planted my feet squarely in front of Aunt Lucy.‘I’m moving out,’ I said, the tone of my voice higher than usual. We lived just outside the country town of Margaret River, and the scenery surrounding the Manor was picturesque, but I was over living at the Urser Estate Winery.She turned, eyes blinking and pulled her arms out of the sudsy sink to tap her gloved fingers on the porcelain bowl. She removed her second skin, one finger at a time, and grabbed a tea towel to dab her hands. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said through gritted teeth.It took me three attempts to swallow and that’s how long it took for her to throw the tea towel over a shoulder and place her hands on her hips. She wore colourless clothing, never used makeup or dyed her grey hair and she never argued. She wanted to go unnoticed – in public. Here with me, she liked to cause waves. I seethed at her hypocrisy. Despite her careful charade, thoughts collided behind her steely eyes.I took a step back, held my breath, and darted a glance at my sister as she sat at the grand table reading the newspaper. The ghost of a smile danced across Leila’s delicate features but she covered it with a sip of coffee. Her eyebrows quirked as she flicked her dark hair over a shoulder and turned the page. ‘Oh, look at this one.’ She picked up a pair of scissors with her left hand and snipped awkwardly, with her right she drank coffee.‘I’m not being ridiculous.’ I held up my key. ‘Kitty’s leasing one of her apartments and I can move in tomorrow. I’m all packed.’Leila spat coffee everywhere and grimaced at her accident. ‘Now, look what you’ve made me do,’ she whined, slamming her mug down. ‘I wish I had a normal sister.’‘Yeah, well I wish my sister didn’t hate my guts for something I can’t control—’‘Uh, uh.’ Aunt Lucy cut me off. She raised a finger, then turned her back on me to help Leila mop off her precious clippings. ‘What did you find today, Darl?’My jaw dropped. I’d given her monumental news and she’d turned her back on me.‘Look at this one,’ Leila said, swiping a drop from a clipping. ‘The Church is recalling their latest safeguard against witch possession. Ap- parently, there was a faulty part in the device or something. It would be nice for them to finally get one invention right, don’t you think? And this one, see?’ She held up another clipping. ‘The DNA test used to identify maleficent victims isn’t accurate because there haven’t been enough cases of witch possession over the last four years – you know, since the Purge.’‘Tsk, tsk, such a shame.’ Aunt Lucy rubbed Leila’s shoulder. ‘Never mind, Darl, it could be a good thing. Only a few possessions in four years isn’t bad. But just in case, we’ll continue to go to church and take confession like they told us. It’s worked so far, right? We’ve never seen a witch around here.’ Leila hummed in agreement.How dare they ignore me? I waved the key in the air. ‘Um hello?Did you hear what I said? I’m moving out.’A woman moving out of home was not to be taken lightly these days. Witches only attacked females – it had something to do with higher oestrogen levels. But like Leila said, since they’d burned half the female population in the Purge, there hadn’t been many cases of posses- sion. The world had relaxed and being a woman wasn’t so bad anymore. ‘You stubborn, stubborn girl.’ Aunt Lucy shook her head. Her  golden crucifix chinked against her necklace of glass baubles. It was the only thing about her that stood out. She said it was a gift from her late husband, so she wore it to remember him by. She wiped her fore- head with her wrist, dislodging her grey headband and releasing flyaway strands of shoulder length hair. ‘You’ll be labelled a whore, just like your friend. I should never have let you get a job at that devil’s playground, it’s caused nothing but problems.’ She pulled off her band and threw it on the counter.I raised my eyebrows. Had she just called Kitty a whore?   Hang on had she called me a whore?‘After all I’ve done for you. I housed you when your father abandoned you, I put up with your criminal ways, I even let you get a job when there’s so much to do here at the vineyard. You’re going to throw it all in my face and leave a week before the food festival?’ The tenacity of her words caused a coughing fit, she wheezed and spluttered into a quickly grasped tissue. The sour stench of smoker’s breath hit me moments before her pungent lavender perfume. I flinched and tried not to screw up my face. Seriously, brush your teeth.With shaky hands, she reached for a glass of water and took a sip. Aunt Lucy ran her boutique vineyard estate with an iron fist, but quit smoking? Impossible. She downed the water in gulps, holding  up a solitary finger. The conversation wasn’t over. When she finished, she busied herself with drying the dishes. The muscles in her shoulders and neck grew rigid as she mulled over her next words. Finally, she picked up a spoon, and waved it at me. ‘That sin-bin you work at is just a lawsuit waiting to happen.’ She opened the cutlery drawer and slammed the spoon in place. ‘I can’t believe it was even allowed to open in the first place,’ she said. Leila snorted in sympathy.In an effort not to roll my eyes, I stared at the sparkling black and white checked floor. There she goes again, spouting her devil nonsense. ‘The Cauldron is not a “sin-bin,” or a “devil’s playground.” It’s a legitimate establishment where people can enjoy a drink or a meal, and learn about the history of witches,’ I said in monotone, tired of defending my workplace.Leila laughed. ‘You can’t be serious, Roo. It’s a mockery; they poke fun at the myth, not teach the reality.’ Her last words came through a clenched jaw and she shuddered.It was true. The Cauldron was a clichéd, witch-themed bar. It resembled something from Halloween, and served cocktails like ‘The Holy Grail’ and ‘Brew to Forget.’ Taxidermy crows peered down at you as you ate, but it was harmless fun. I felt at home there.I shrugged. ‘If it makes people feel safe and confident they have one up on witches, who cares? I get paid, and all I have to do is serve drinks and look pretty with this thing hanging around my neck.’ I flicked my slick collar. It made me special. ‘I’m accepted for who I am. Besides, it’s coming off in a few weeks and I’ll be free to do what I want. Everyone with opinions can bite me.’ I added the last bit in an awkward rush and, as if sensing my unease, the skin underneath my probation collar itched. I slid my finger over the watery surface, tracing it around to the clasp at my nape and scratched. Oh, that felt good. I’d be glad to have it off in a few weeks when my sentence lifted. I smiled at the notion. After one thousand and ninety-five days I’d finally be able to touch people without risking an electric shock, annoying alarm, or being covered in an embarrassing UV staining liquid. If I could keep my secret under wraps people might actually look at me without suspicion.Turbulence gathered in Aunt Lucy’s face when she saw my smile. ‘Who’s going to want you after what happened to your last boyfriend?’ She flung a china plate down, it whirled on the bench top. ‘You told him to take a long walk off a short cliff, and then he disappeared. You   were only cleared because of a lack of evidence. Nobody trusts you, even your workplace won’t want you then. You’re an asset while you have that freak show happening around your neck but what value will you bring to the show when that’s gone? Will you whore yourself out, too?’ Her hands shook and she clicked her tongue as she picked up another utensil.Like Kitty? I was sure she wanted to add.‘We need you here Roo. The grapes won’t pick themselves and there is so much work to be done before the food and wine festival, it’s simply not possible. Your father left you in my care, and that’s where you will stay.’My hands balled into fists. He left me in her care. Her words cut to the core, they stung every time I heard them. I knew he left because he couldn’t stand the sight of me, but did she have to remind me? It’s one thing to call me and my friend a whore, it’s another to bring my useless father into it. I clenched my teeth. ‘My father lost any say in my future when he disappeared after my trial.’‘You know very well he’s classed as AWOL by his military unit. He left your guardianship to me in his will, and since then I’ve been running myself ragged to help you out. Not that it’s done any good, mind you. You’re as ungrateful as the day you arrived.’My eyes flared. Every day off from The Cauldron, I worked the fields, picking relentlessly. I worked hard, damn it, she had no right to say those things. Besides, my father hadn’t been on a tour of duty at the time of his disappearance, in fact, I was pretty sure he’d been on personal leave. How convenient for him to blame work for his substandard parenting. But I knew the truth. His daughter had been declared one step above the enemy, and he was embarrassed and ashamed. Well, ha! Joke’s on them. I’d fooled them all. I could do everything a witch could do, except hop from one body to another. The thought gave me a sobering dose of reality. I was bad news for anyone close to me. If they knew I could do the same thing as the enemy ... I shuddered, not wanting to finish the thought. Sometimes, I dreamt I’d be able to help people with my skills and be praised for my uniqueness. I could cure sickness, or remodel fractured bones just by willing it so, but it was a dream. In reality they’d burn me.‘Well, my mind is made up. I’m leaving,’ I said. ‘I’ll come back to help serve at the festival, but I won’t live here.’Leila made a derogatory sound and feigned interest in another article. I narrowed my eyes at her. Our matching eye colour was the only thing that marked us as sisters. Actually hers were the brown of a deer and mine were more like honey, so maybe I clutched at straws. The similarity stopped there. I stood tall, tanned and athletic with sun kissed brown hair; she was short, pale and curvy with almost black hair. Sometimes I thought I was adopted, but since Leila had witnessed the death of our mother during my birth, I didn’t think so.Maybe she was adopted. The snide thought tiptoed into my mind.Leila stood suddenly, dragging her chair across the floor. The scent of daisies filled the air as she left the room in a flurry, skirt billowing behind. I sighed and pinched the bridge between my eyes. I had to get to work. A black mark across my name was the last thing I wanted the day before my performance review. What if Aunt Lucy had been right and they didn’t want me after my collar was removed? I couldn’t exactly show off my witch-like abilities. Guess I’d cross that rickety bridge when I got to it.‘See what you’ve done?’ Aunt Lucy turned on the guilt trip. ‘You can’t leave her, Roo, she needs you. I’m not going to be around forever and who will look after her then?’ She aged ten years in an instant and forced a cough to prove her point. Her grey hair looked limp, her skin sagged, and her wrinkles turned into deep canyons. Maybe the stress of having two girls dumped in your care after a war wasn’t good for your health – especially when one suffered from post-traumatic stress, and the other was in trouble with the law.‘You’ll be better off without me,’ I said. My shoulders slumped as I backed out of the kitchen and walked down the hallway to the front living room.Twenty-four was a good age to move out – almost twenty-four. Back in the old days, before the War-of-Witches, women were allowed to move out whenever they wanted. But since the WOW, women could only move out if they were conviction free and over twenty-one. Three years with no incidents would cement my independence. I just had a few more weeks to wait.‘This isn’t over, Roo,’ Aunt Lucy called from the kitchen. ‘Don’t expect to be welcome back here if you decide to move out.’I lifted my brows at the photographs lining the walls, daring them to taunt me, but the ancestors of my mother remained silent. I gazed at the interior of the stale living room, a staircase situated on each side and an uncomfortable antique settee occupied the middle. Each wall served as gallery space for our family photographs. It was supposed to be historical, but it haunted me to stare at dead people. It was more like Death Row.Shivering, I grabbed my belongings from the settee and moved to the door. I smoothed down my black uniform shirt and slipped my yellow motorcycle jacket on. After stowing my precious key in the side pocket of my backpack, I slung it over my arms. With a deep breath and a forced smile, I opened the stately front door. I’d actually done it. My smile became genuine as the late spring sunshine warmed my face.‘Roo, wait.’ Leila crashed down the stairs on the far side of the room. ‘I have something for you.’ She reached my side with a big glass jar. It was filled with curious little plastic squares that chinked as she moved. ‘I can’t let you leave with this hanging over my head,’ she said, ‘So, here goes.’ Her voice cracked out and she swallowed.Whoa, this seemed like a big deal. Her face was seriously drawn and paler than usual. She pulled out a green computer chip, and turned it over, lost in thought as she gazed at it. The look on her face made me think it hurt to touch, but I knew it didn’t. How could it?‘I made some memory bytes for you. Actually, I haven’t made them for you but they are about you, so you should have them, they’re pretty much all the same,’ she babbled. ‘You should take them with you, then maybe I’ll finally be able to sleep.’‘Right,’ I said slowly, chewing my cheek. What was I supposed to say to that? Um, thanks. Sure, no problems, I’m happy to take your jar of nightmares. I opened my hand and caught the microchip in my palm. The little thing was almost weightless but felt as heavy as an elephant – the big one that sat in her room my entire life.Leila refused to speak about her nightmares, so her therapist had asked her to record them. She’d been doing that for as long as I could remember. I’d often heard her screams at night, followed by shuffling as she gathered the tools needed to make the recording. If I went to her door, I’d see a faint blue glow shining through the cracks. Nobody had seen the recordings yet, so I knew this was a pretty big step, but that’s as far as my insight went.‘I don’t mean to look at you the way I do, and talk to you the way I do …’ Her voice softened as it trailed off. Her eyes narrowed, the heat coming off her gaze was unnatural in someone so delicate. ‘My brain says you’re my sister, and a little baby couldn’t possibly be held responsible. But my heart hates you for killing our mother to get a place in this world. I’m sorry; it’s something I can’t help.’ She shook her head and looked away with her shoulders hunched. ‘You have to believe me. I don’t mean to feel that way. I just do.’My eyeballs stung. It wasn’t going to get any better than  this. For whatever the truth of that fateful night, she had her own version running through her head, and I didn’t need a psychology degree to see it was painful. I wanted to go to her, squeeze her tight, but held back. Something had happened during my birth to make her think I was evil, and after I was accused of bewitching my ex, my name had been put in the same sentence as the enemy. Considering my secret abilities, I knew I was linked to them. Shame washed over me. If she knew my secret, she’d never speak to me again. I resisted the urge to touch her. My collar would beep at the proximity and she would flinch.She lifted her lashes to peer at me, eyes liquid. ‘Maybe things will be different with some distance between us.’Maybe she can relax when the monster is gone.‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘Goodbye, Leila, I’ll see you tomorrow.’‘Here take these with you, p-please, you’d be doing me a favour, I can’t do it myself. You’re the strong one in this family.’ She stuttered the words, but hope shone through her eyes, at least that’s what I told myself. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. It’ll be a new day and we can start fresh.’ She handed me the jar. Dumbfounded, I watched her walk away. That was probably the longest conversation I’d ever had with her.
In a daze, I left the house and detoured passed the garage. The lid to the garbage bin was heavy, but I managed to drop the jar inside, the putrid smell matched my mood. I certainly didn’t want a jar of night- mares and, as Leila didn’t have the guts, I got rid of them for her. Except for the one in my pocket next to my phone. That one I kept for later.
About the Author:
As an author, marketer, and artist, Lana is a triple threat! She also makes a mean chocolate cake, and has Level 46 Creative Mojo. A fan of ‘pro-caffeinating’, Lana loves writing mash-ups of the fantasy, sci-fi, romance, and horror genres.
An author in her own right, with her urban fantasy novel Hunting for Witches recently released, Lana creates all of her own cover work and illustrations, and infuses websites with her unique stylistic talent and quirky graphic design.She loves Sailor Moon. No judgement.
Book Series Website: http://www.ludusbooks.com
Author Blog: http://www.authorzoo.com.au
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/lansi26
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Spotlight and Giveaway Cockpit by Kate Deveaux

CockpitThrottle UpBook OneKate Deveaux
Genre: Erotic Romance   
Publisher: Ellora’s CaveDate of Publication: June 3, 2015
ISBN: 9781419991868ASIN:
Number of pages: 65Word Count:  30,000
Book Description:
It seems turbulence isn’t always caused by weather.
Throttle up as past loves collide…
High school sweethearts re unite forty years later at 37,000 feet.
Fifty eight year old commercial airline pilot, Bobbi Cooper, gets a blast from the past when her high school sweetheart, Mack McConnell, appears as one her first class passengers on her 747 transatlantic flight to London.
Used to being in control at all times, Bobbi is reeling from a crummy marriage and she must learn at Mack’s capable hands that losing control can be oh so sexy.
Available at  Amazon   BN   Ellora’s Cave



Excerpt:
There was silence. Then the familiar sensation of her stomach being dragged down, right down to her standard issue black shoes. G force. It was the same every time.Flicking off the autopilot and taking control of the 747, Bobbi gripped the throttle in her right hand, fearlessly pushing it forward. Slow and even. The plane bounced and shook in the wake turbulence of a passing 767. The muffled sounds of passengers’ outbursts at the sudden drop mingled with the clatter and clang of the galley carts that Bobbi damn well hoped were secured as she’d ordered.They had to head to higher airspace. Now.Bobbi knew better than to heed the shrill rapid warnings echoing throughout the cockpit to urgently trim to turbulence penetration airspeed.Scott, her first officer, nodded as they increased power and held the jet seemingly against its will. Dozens of lights flashed. Air traffic control rattled off a series of confirmations when she pressed the plane higher, the metal creaking as she forced nearly a million pounds of steel and its occupants upward.Pushing the throttle hard, Bobbi knew smooth air was only a few moments away. Under her guidance, the plane jostled and battled its way through the rough air. A sudden bump, followed by another, then the resulting loud gasp from the passengers.Holding firm at her command, they broke through the rough air into an eerie smoothness as they glided seemingly effortlessly into calmer airspace.Bobbi exhaled, only now aware she’d been holding her breath. Turbulence was an everyday occurrence for a seasoned pilot like herself, but this had caught her off guard. A heady mix of bad weather and the wake turbulence of the other aircraft had left her reeling when she tried to steady the 747 inbound for Heathrow.Scott turned away to double-check some details with the flight engineer seated behind him. Bobbi wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow when he wasn’t looking. As captain of the immense beast, Bobbi couldn’t let her fellow officers—or any crew for that matter—see her sweat under pressure. And that was becoming more of an issue, since hot flashes were now often brought on not by an adrenaline rush from flying but by Mother Nature.Bobbi Cooper couldn’t believe she would be fifty-eight next year. Where had the time gone?She knew damn well where it had gone. First a stepping-stone career in the Air Force and then thirty years flying commercial. Enough to establish her as one of the highest-ranking woman pilots in the country as a 747 captain for Atlantica airlines.“Perfect,” Bobbi said, switching back to autopilot and settling the aircraft into the calmer and higher altitude.Scott did as she ordered and tinkered with the gauges, she watched. Once she was sure all was under control, Bobbi unbuckled her shoulder harness and rose from her seat, reassured all was secure.“Keep her on route—I’m stepping back for a moment. You two got it?” she asked, standing behind her first officer Scott and her flight engineer Neville, the new recruit fresh from a small regional airline.“Sure, Bob, we got it,” Scott said casually, calling her by the familiar cockpit nickname. “Have them send up some coffee while you’re back there.”Bobbi buzzed for the flight attendant to open the cockpit door. Standard procedure after 9/11. Bobbi peered out through the peephole. It was Sandy, the flight attendant with a penchant for displaying her ample cleavage by wearing her uniform extra tight, so it hugged all her curves. But it wasn’t only her inappropriate dress that annoyed Bobbi. It was the fact she’d also had fucked Bobbi’s husband.But then again, who hasn’t?After divorce and company paid-for counseling, Bobbi had come to the realization, and then acceptance, that Sandy was just one on a long list of Greg’s conquests. She did her best not to hold a grudge, but that was a constant challenge, as she ran into Sandy more than she would have liked. Once a century was about what Bobbi could tolerate, although it had been cleared by corporate that they were fine to work together. And they were. Bobbi was a professional. Through and through. She’d fought tooth and nail for her job, and with three and a half years until retirement, with the promise of a cushy pension waiting for her, which she’d only have to marginally share with Greg according to the settlement, there was no way she was going to let Sandy or any of the others put her off her game.“How’d everyone do?” Bobbi asked Sandy with her cool, composed captain’s demeanor. It was the one piece of her dignity she’d salvaged among the women flight attendants, a good majority of whom had been treated to Greg’s lustful attentions.Sandy motioned with her head back toward the passenger area. “Fine,” she reported. “Chucker in aisle sixteen and a few more farther back, but they should be fine now.”Chuckers. That was what they called the passengers who couldn’t hang on to lunch during a bumpy flight. Today had been a doozy, and it wasn’t over yet.Bobbi noticed with subtle irritation that Sandy’s blouse strained against her perky breasts as she efficiently flicked the switch on the coffee machine. Her bosom jiggled while she scooped ice into a plastic cup and pulled a can of tomato juice out of the galley cart. Shit. Greg really hadn’t had a chance. Big brown doe eyes and a body that wouldn’t quit. The sexy flight attendant was everything Bobbi wasn’t. Not that it mattered now. Greg was on to new, greener pastures. Her ex was consistent she scoffed —his conquests all had one, no make that two things in common— big knockers and tiny, round asses. Men were shit, really. Why she had let herself be demeaned and embarrassed by his bad behavior for as long as she had, she’d never know.C’est le vie, Bobbi coached herself as she smiled her most innocuous smile at Sandy.“Plan for a bumpy ride in to Heathrow—there’ll be some more weather ahead,” Bobbi warned her. “Might need more bags.”“Sure thing, Captain,” Sandy said as she snapped open the lid on the can, poured the tomato juice over ice and handed it to Bobbi.Bobbi nodded her appreciation and gulped down her customary in-flight refreshment. “I’m going back for a few minutes,” she said, handing the empty cup back to Sandy before pulling back the curtain to first class. “And send some coffee in for Scott and Neville before we head down, please.”Entering the first-class cabin on her way to the pilot’s rest area located between first class and business, Bobbi scanned the spacious cabin. Most of her passengers were now contentedly dozing, oblivious to the formidable battle she’d been waging in the cockpit to keep them in precariously calm airspace. But that was her job—to deliver five hundred souls safely to London.Sunlight illuminated the plush first-class cabin through a few half-drawn window shades, but not quite to enough to keep the blinding sun from searing into her eyes. Squinting, she walked down the aisle, passing by the first row.A collective gasp came from the passengers when the plane hit another deep air pocket. Bobbi reached out to steady herself, placing her hand on the headrest of the second row seat for a brief second, smiling reassuringly at the surrounding passengers. She was their pilot, after all.The passenger in the nearest seat looked up at her.Bobbi smiled down, then did a double take.“Bobbi?” the male passenger asked, looking up at her. “Bobbi…Bobbi Cooper?”“Yes,” Bobbi said, instantly recognizing his features. Her mind was spinning. Those dark-blue eyes. And that unmistakable voice. Velvety and thick. The way scotch felt when it slid down her throat. She’d know that voice and that face anywhere. Even if it had been forever.It was Mack.

About the Author:
Kate Deveaux is a contemporary, erotic romance writer and die-hard romantic. It was after reading Jane Eyre in high school, that she became hooked on the idea of writing about romance, excitement and drama. Kate has been penning stories, from the sensual to the sinfully sexy, ever since. 
A former wedding planner, Kate has always been "in love" with love!  She was inspired to transition from writing racy short stories to full length manuscripts after meeting other authors in the romance world at industry workshops, conferences and events. Originally from England, now resides in the U.S. with her husband. When she’s not writing or reading, Kate can be found on the tennis court—yes, there’s even "love" in that game too!
Author website: http://www.katedeveaux.com
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kate-Deveaux/349294291841235
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KateDeveaux
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/katedeveaux
Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/104114173171800541171/posts
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/7126956.Kate_Deveaux
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Guest Blog: Intuition by Anna Durand

Superheroes, Eternal Odysseys, and Paranormal Sinners
I write paranormal romance. Creating worlds and unusual characters to populate them is great fun. My stories have included psychics and resurrected mummies, but soon there'll be elemental beings and fae as well, in my upcoming stories. But whatever tale I'm crafting, I rely one vital technique to fuel my writing—music.
Over the years, music has become an integral part of my writing routine, and certain songs evoke characters, emotions, and story elements for me. For my first published romance, Willpower (the first book in the Psychic Crossroads series), I created a special playlist of songs that embody the story for me. Now, I have three main playlists I switch between while writing—a general playlist of movie scores, an action-oriented selection of movie music, and a very special playlist for love scenes. You've got to achieve the right mood to compose those!
Movie scores provide mood and energy without the interference of lyrics. I have a broad range of orchestral scores from blockbusters and lesser-known films, as well as a few TV series. When I really need a boost to write a pivotal, epic scene, I load up the superhero movie scores. For these moments, nothing beats Thor: The Dark World by Brian Tyler or Captain America by Alan Silvestri. When it comes to paranormal spookiness, my absolute favorite is Star Trek: The Motion Picture by Jerry Goldsmith. The mix of synths and orchestra creates the best creepy outer space music ever written. I also love Fringe: Season 4 by Chris Tilton and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the TV series) by Chrisophe Beck. Buffy runs the gamut from action to lighthearted to somber, with a bit of romance, providing the perfect backdrop for almost any scene.
One score that's probably unknown to most people is the amazing music from Cutthroat Island, written by John Debney. The best pirate music ever!
Naturally, love scenes require a different sort of music more conducive to getting my characters to get it on. How can they feel sexy if I'm listening to The Mummy Returns? I mean, Rick and Evy share some sexy kisses in that movie, but the score is more about action and half-reborn mummies. So when I start a love scene, I turn on my special playlist. It includes an eclectic mix of songs:
·       Delerium: "Awakening" and "Eternal Odyssey" in particular, from the albums Music Box Opera and Chimera, respectively.
·       Emma Shapplin: "The Lovers" is awesome for couples with trust issues, but "La Notte Etterna" has an operatic, paranormal-y vibe; "The Lovers" is a single, and "La Notte Etterna is from the album Etterna.
·       Emmy Rossum: "High," from the album Inside Out, for anticipation.
·       Jewel: "2 Become 1," the version from the album 0304; a very romantic song.
·       Kylie Minogue: Lots of her songs are great for love scenes, but my favorite is "Sensitized," from the album X.
·       Sarah Brightman: "You Take My Breath Away" and "Until the End of Time," both from the album Harem; epically romantic songs with an exotic flavor.
·       Taylor Dayne: "Original Sin," from the soundtrack to the movie The Shadow; this may seem an odd choice for love scenes, but when your couple is paranormal, it fits!

If I had to choose one song to represent my new book, Intuition (the sequel to Willpower), it would be Rom Thomas's "All That I Am." For me, that song epitomizes Grace and David's relationship and their willingness to sacrifice anything for each other. Their story may end in Intuition, but the Psychic Crossroads series goes on.

These are just a few of the songs that inspire my stories. To see more of my music, check out my writing playlist on Pinterest.
IntuitionPsychic CrossroadsBook TwoAnna Durand
Genre: paranormal romance
Publisher: Jacobsville Books
Date of Publication: 6/15/2015
ISBN: 978-1-934631-71-3 ISBN: 978-1-934631-74-4ASIN: B00XK88MB8
Number of pages: 270Word Count: 106,000
Cover Artist: Lisa A. Shiel,Five Rainbows Services
Book Description:
Book 2 in the multi-award-winning Psychic Crossroads series
Ultimate power comes at the ultimate price.
Torn apart by their haunted pasts, Grace Powell and her fiancé David Ransom are struggling to reclaim their passionate bond. She yearns for a normal life — one without danger and paranormal powers — but David can't renounce his obsession with hunting down rogue scientist Karl Tesler, who abducts and tortures psychics. David endured Tesler's tactics himself, but despite what Grace believes, he's not out for revenge.
Tesler covets her unprecedented abilities and her connection to a vast and mysterious source of psychic energy known as the Golden Power. He will stop at nothing to possess her, and David will do anything — even abandon and lie to her — to protect Grace from the mad scientist.
With a psychic stalker on her trail, Grace charges into a desperate mission to uncover the truth about David's obsession and his secret past. But Tesler's agents are closing in on her, and a terrifying new enemy is rising…
As events drive Grace and David toward a battle of epic proportions, they must risk everything — their relationship, their lives, and even their souls — to defeat an enemy who wields unspeakable psychic power. Can a bond borne of true love save them, and the world?
Available at Amazon   Smashwords   iTunes   Google Play
Excerpt:
Grace Powell slammed the front door. The cool air inside the house flushed away the sultry October heat pasted to her skin. She stalked across the living room, down the hall, and into the bedroom. She fumbled for the light switch, her fingers slipping off the plastic. Dammit. No one but David Ransom detonated her temper like this. She flicked the switch, and light flooded the room. The bed stood empty, the sheets crumpled at the foot.They'd fled the house in a near-panic, racing from their home to the Cincinnati airport with tires screeching, all because of a thirty-second phone call David received at one a.m. Another tip from a questionable source. Another threadbare clue in his quest for vengeance. Another search that yanked him away from Grace. Away from their home, their life.The emptiness of the bed tore at her heart like tiny claws. Sharp. Hot. Fresh tears pricked her eyes, and she gnawed her lip to stave off the downpour. No crying.She fingered her engagement ring. A tear sneaked out of her eye to roll down her cheek, painting a hot trail on her skin. No crying, dammit.She resisted the impulse to tap into their telepathic bond and check on her fiancé. It was an invasion, one she understood all too well, but how else could she know David was all right? She had to trust their latent connection, however faint, to warn her. If he stumbled into trouble, though, what could she do from here, over a thousand miles away?Her heart clenched. Losing her parents ripped her world asunder. She could not lose David too. Her head told her she wouldn't, yet the fear chilled her down to the essence of her being.She trudged into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes. The lonely tear crept into her mouth, infecting her tongue with a salty tang. She tugged the cell phone out of her jeans pocket and tossed it onto the bedside table. Her muscles, stiff and sore, begged for a rest. She collapsed onto the mattress on her back. Her gaze hit the ceiling, where little acoustic balls clung to the paint, stuck there against their will. I know the feeling.When they'd reached the security checkpoint at the airport, she'd longed to plead with David to stay. Instead, she cranked her lips into a smile, pecked a kiss on his cheek, and all but shoved him through the gate. Her stomach wrenched into knots recalling that moment, as he strolled into the main terminal. When he paused to glance back, she prayed he would change his mind. But he simply waved, then strode out of sight.Grace rolled onto her side. Her nose bumped into David's pillow. She drew in a long breath. The spiciness of his aftershave flooded her senses, along with another scent—a subtle, masculine smell unique to David. Indescribable. Delicious. Warmth suffused her, seeping into her heart and mind, smoldering in parts of her that ached for him. She inhaled another draft of his scent, her body responding as if he were there, caressing her. He may drive her nuts at times, but…Oh, the way he kissed. Her lips tingled from the memory of it.A chill whispered over her skin. Every hair on her body stiffened. Her sixth sense burst out of its slumber, clanging alarm bells in her psyche. Someone is here.She bolted upright and whipped her head left and right. Nobody there. She swung her legs off the bed and pushed up onto her feet, nabbing her .357 Magnum revolver from the bedside table. A chill trickled down her spine. Eyes watched. Invisible, ethereal, but real. She turned toward the doorway. Nothing lurked there.Why couldn't she pin down the source of the sensation? Her paranormal radar was blanked out, as if overwhelmed by  input.Psychic energy crackled through her. Behind you. She whirled around, thrusting the gun up, clamped in both hands, and confronted—The lamp.Hell. She'd let her unease blossom into paranoia. Nobody hunted her anymore. Probably. Tesler wouldn't find her here.Her cell phone buzzed. A text message had arrived.David. She snatched up the phone, tapping the screen until the message popped up. As she scanned the words, a shiver rattled through her."Come to me," it said, "I can help you. 1325 Meroz Road."She didn't recognize the phone number the message came from, and no name was given. Oh sure, she'd rush right out to the address texted to her by an anonymous whackjob.The phone buzzed again. Another text message: "Your lip is bleeding."Her lip? She dabbed a finger on her mouth. It came away wet. Blood stained her skin. How did the texter know she bit her lip? Her heart pounded. Without moving, she searched the shadows for a figure, a camera, something to explain this, though she knew she'd find nothing. A thick curtain shielded the window. The person sending the messages could either see through solid objects or had another means of viewing her. Extrasensory means.The phone tumbled from her hand, clattering on the floor.No, she was jumping to conclusions. An intruder must've stolen into the house. With the revolver in hand, she sprinted out of the bedroom, down the hallway, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Vacant. All vacant. She rushed back to the bedroom and dug through the closet, scoured the dresser, even dropped onto her belly to investigate the space under the bed. No cameras. No stealthy intruders. Not a damn thing. Which left her with one unthinkable possibility.Maybe she should call the police.What for? They couldn't help her with this kind of problem."You belong with me."She jumped. Her head smacked into the bed frame. She clutched the gun tighter. Where had the voice come from?No, no, no, not again. Nausea swelled in her stomach, bile rising high in her throat. The voice did not originate in this room, or from outside. The source was much, much closer. Someone rammed the words into her mind.A psychic intruder just hacked her brain.


About the Author:
Anna Durand is a multi-award-winning writer, a freelance librarian, and an audiobook addict. She specializes in sexy romances, both paranormal and contemporary, featuring spunky heroines and hunky heroes. In her previous life as a librarian, she haunted the stacks of public libraries but never met any hot vampires hunting for magical books.
Website: http://www.annadurand.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheAnnaDurand
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AnnaDurandFiction
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Things You May Find at The Little Shop of Secrets

Hi.  Thanks so much for hosting my new paranormal romance on your blog.  If you haven’t heard of it before, the Remembering Raven series is a five-book series about the vampire, Viktor’s re-discovery of his long-lost love, Raven.  He finds Raven as a psychic in an occult shop in New Orleans.  Throughout the series, Viktor helps Raven remember their past life together, however, their reunion is over-shadowed by a serial killer who is murdering young women.  

Specifically, young women that Raven has previously done Tarot readings for.  
Since Raven’s job is as co-owner as well as a Tarot card reader at The Little Shop of Secrets, I thought you would enjoy a list of the items you might find if you were shopping at The Little Shop of Secrets in New Orleans.

Inside the shop, you will find a cozy and friendly atmosphere with a variety of items as well as a sitting area where you can either wait for your Tarot reading, or enjoy a hot tea or coffee, or a cold lemonade.  Raven also supplies fresh beignets from the bakery next door.  Yum!




Remembering Raven: AllegraRemembering RavenBook 3Lacey Edward
Genre: Paranormal romance/suspense
Publisher: Asselin Group Online PublisherDate of Publication: May 22, 2015
ASIN: B00Y1NZJIK
Word Count: 20,000
Book Description:
Raven LeClaire is starting to move past the two horrible murders that have targeted her Tarot reading clients. Although she has vowed to stay actively involved with solving these highly puzzling deaths, she is finally allowing herself to get closer to the handsome Viktor Thorssen. The two of them feel the centuries old connection between them and have given into everything that sort of bond brings with it.
Raven’s best friend and business partner, Allegra Canelle, has been acting like a school girl since she has met the elusive and mysterious Philippe. Because of her relationship with him, Allegra has been shirking all of her responsibilities including holding up her end of things at The Little Shop of Secrets. She agrees to sell her half of the shop to Raven so that she can be free to spend more time with Philippe.
Raven is finally beginning to be truly happy in life. She has a thriving business that she can now call her own. Viktor and she had a relationship filled with both undying love and passion. Not only that, but she has recalled much of their previous life together in the 14th century.
Not everything is happy, though. She has seen danger ahead for Allegra as well as a new Tarot client and neither of the women will listen to her. When tragedy does strike seemingly without warning, Viktor makes a decision that will change the lives of all of them. Believing that he is doing the right thing, he is not fully prepared for the reaction that he gets from Raven.
Whatever else may happen, however, Viktor is determined not to lose the love of his life – his soul mate – ever again. No matter what it takes to keep them together, he will do it.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/evxEIxVuT3E
Available at Amazon


Excerpt:“Surely, Viktor, you cannot argue that your wife is the fairest in the land,” Kol said with a flourish. “And that is why the lovely Raven will be mine.”“Kol!” Allegra cried. “What is wrong with you?”“Allegra, do be quiet,” he said. “Or I shall be forced to silence you.”“Silence me?” she shouted.Before any of them could take a breath, Kol leaped to his feet and snapped Allegra’s neck with his bare hands.“I did tell her to be quiet,” he said as he pushed her body out of the chair.“Raven, Raven, wake up, love,” a voice whispered urgently in her ear. “You are dreaming. Wake up, now.”Raven drew in a quick, deep gasp of air and bolted upright in bed. She was simultaneously sweating and shivering. Viktor wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him.“It is ok now, my love,” he said. “You were having quite a dream.”“No,” she said.“What do you mean?”“I mean, it was not a dream,” she replied.“Ah,” Viktor said. “So it was another memory?”“Yes, and it was clearer and more frightening than any nightmare I’ve ever had.”“Do you want to tell me about it?”“Maybe,” Raven said. “I think I probably should. Allegra was in this one.”“Yes, that is to be expected because she was a very close friend to you during that lifetime,” Viktor assured her. “I know. But this was kind of awful, Viktor.”“In what way, my love?” he asked.“Well, she was killed,” Raven replied. “Right in front of us.”Imperceptibly, Viktor’s body tensed. He tried to control it, but she picked up on it.“What do you know about that?”“I…I really do not know much,” he said. “What did you see happen?”He listened intently as Raven recounted her dream/memory to him.This is bad, he thought. At this rate, she will be remembering her own death without any help from me. I do not believe she is ready to handle that yet.“Something keeps trying to break through,” she said. “I do have one question from this dream.”“What is that, love?” he asked.
“I’m wondering about Allegra’s companion in the dream. The one who killed her,” she said. “Viktor, just who is Kol?” 
About the Author:
Lacey Edward was born and raised in Canada.  She writes mainly paranormal romance fiction but enjoys throwing in a little mystery and suspense for good measure and to keep things interesting.  Her first experience with vampires was the Barnabas Collins book she read in grade eight.  She devoured it and never looked back – well, maybe over her shoulder once or twice.
Lacey lives in the country with her husband and two daughters.  They enjoy skiing and sliding in the winter, swimming, golfing, and boating in the summer, and music all year long.  Lacey also tries to keep up her mixed martial arts skills, just in case one of her unsavory characters comes to life…
For up to date promotions and release dates of upcoming books, sign up for the latest news on her website: www.laceyedward.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/laceyedwardauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/laceyedwardbook
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/laceyedward
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Top Ten Favorite Ghost Stories LIP SERVICE by Adele Downs

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson 
The Haunting (Original movie, starring Jill Harris and Claire Bloom, 1963. Based on the novel.)
The Shining by Stephen King
Ghosts of The Valley by Adi-Kent Thomas Jeffrey (Ghosts in Pennsylvania.)
More Ghosts of The Valley by Adi-Kent Thomas Jeffrey (Ghosts in Pennsylvania.)
Ghost (Movie starring Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, 1990.)
Field of Dreams (Movie starring Kevin Costner, 1989.)
ParaNorman (Movie, Animated, 2012)
Poltergeist (Movie starring Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams, 1982.)
Practical Magic (Movie starring Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman,1998)

Lip ServiceAdele Downs
Print Length: 116 pages
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing GroupRelease Date: April 27, 2015
ASIN: B00WT1EA2W
Genre: Hot contemporary romance
Book Description:
Getting Between Jack…
Orphaned at a young age, Legs Anderson owes her Aunt Ada everything. The stoic old lady raised her, and Ada’s warnings about men—and the Harris boys in particular—have stuck, even after her death. Of course, that could be because Ada stuck around, too.
…And His Legs
Patience is not one of Jack Harris’ virtues, and he’s waited too long to start a life with the woman he’s loved since childhood instead of them just knocking boots. Now Ada is interfering from beyond the grave, haunting the old Victorian house she bequeathed to her niece and reinforcing Legs’s fears of commitment.
But Jack won’t give up. No matter what trouble may follow, the house will be renovated, Ada will learn to let go, Legs will put her money where her mouth is… then Jack’ll put his lips everywhere else.
Available at  Boroughs Publishing     ARe     
Amazon    BN   Kobo    Smashwords
Teaser Excerpt:
"Move in with me, dammit. You’re the most stubborn woman I ever knew.”
Legs topped his coffee cup with fresh brew, easy as you please. “No more stubborn than you, since you keep askin’ the same old question. I have my own place.”
Jack frowned and stabbed his egg yolks, making them run. “Then let me live with you.”
“In my aunt’s house?” Legs asked like he was crazy.
“It’s your house now.”
“I’m trying to fix it up. I have to patch and paint. There’s no room for your things.”
“I’ll help you and then you’ll have plenty of space for me. And my stuff.”
Her ponytail shook with her reply. “Ada won’t like it. She’ll think it’s immoral.”
Jack leaned forward. “You talk about her like she’s still with us. She’s been gone over a year, sweetheart.” His voice dropped an octave and his brow creased. “Don’t you think she’d give in after all this time?”
Legs wrinkled her nose. “No. She thinks you’re a wanderer.”
Jack tossed down his fork. “I own a sporting goods store! I go fishing!”
He touched her hand when she got close enough and drew little circles around her wrist bone with a fingertip. The preschool teachers from Let’s Explore stifled sighs at the next table. “It’s time to let go, darlin’.” His expression turned earnest. “She raised you, I know. But I want to be with you now. It’s time to let me in.”
“Not if it means letting her go. I’m sorry, Jack. I just can’t do that to her.”
Jack sighed and returned to his breakfast. “We’ll talk about this again tomorrow.”



About the Author:
Adele Downs writes Contemporary Romance inside the office of her rural Pennsylvania home. She is a former journalist, published in newspapers and magazines in the USA, UK and Caribbean.
Adele is an active member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter where she serves as past-president. She has written several articles for RWR magazine (Romance Writers Report), and she has presented workshops for writers.
When Adele isn’t working on her current project, she can be found riding in her convertible or reading a book on the nearest beach.
Website: www.adeledowns.wordpress.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authoradeledowns
Twitter: www.twitter.com/Adele_Downs
Tsu:  www.tsu.co/Adele_Downs



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The Devil's Daughter: Lucinda's Pawnshop

DEVIL’S DAUGHTER: LUCINDA’S PAWNSHOP
an urban fantasy 
by Hope Schenk-de Michele, Paul Marquez & Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff
Lucinda is as old as humanity itself, yet perpetually young, beautiful, and endowed with supernatural powers. She lives a double life—human and immortal. In her human guise, she manages Lucinda’s Pawnshop & Antiquary, the doors of which can open to any street anywhere in the world at any time. Mortals who have arrived at a moral or spiritual crossroads are drawn into the mysterious shop. If they acquire one of its cursed artifacts, they may find themselves drafted into Lucifer’s service.
Born out of a betrayal of trust between the first woman, Eve, and father Lucifer, Lucinda has worked covertly and subtly for millennia to be true to her mother’s love by subverting her father’s schemes. She wins freedom for some; Lucifer keeps those who fail for eternity. She has to be careful, for Lucifer has placed her under the watchful eye of the fallen angel Nathaniel, whose real intentions are a mystery to her.
Website:  www.lucindaspawnshop.com
Bird Street Books's Devil's Daughter page:   http://bit.ly/1argyuG
Book trailer:  http://bit.ly/1Geay4h
Amazon:  http://amzn.to/1xIVB8G
BN:  http://bit.ly/1J0f8CT
Goodreads:  www.goodreads.com/book/show/22980192-devil-s-daughter
Facebook:  www.facebook.com/Lucindaspawnshop
Twitter: @LucindaPawnShop
About the Authors:
Hope Schenk-de Michele and Paul Marquez have been best friends and television producing partners for more than four decades. They both grew up in Los Angeles, California and share a passion for mystery and science fiction. This passion lead them to create the forever young and beautiful daughter of darkness, Lucinda. To assist in bringing Lucinda's story into the literary world, they enlisted the help of New York Times best-selling science fiction and fantasy author Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff. Maya is the author of more than a dozen novels, and the co-author of The Last Jedi: Star Wars (Star Wars: Coruscant Nights - Legends). All three reside in California.

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Release Day Blitz Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire by Victoria Danann

Two Princes: The Biker and The BillionaireSons of SanctuaryBook 1Victoria Danann
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: 7th House Publishing,Imprint of Andromeda LLC
Date of Publication: June 16, 2015
Number of pages: 300Word Count: 90,000
Cover Artist: Victoria Danann
Book Description:
Brigid Roan is a graduate student at the University of Texas. She had no trouble getting her thesis approved, but finding a Hill Country motorcycle club willing to give her access to their lifestyle had started to seem impossible. Then she got a lead. A friend of a friend had a cousin with ties to The Sons of Sanctuary.
What she wanted was information to prove a proposition. What she didn’t want was to fall for one of the members of the club. Especially since she had set out to prove that motorcycle clubs are organized according to the same structure as primitive tribal society.
Brash Fornight was standing in line at the H.E.B. Market when his world tipped on its axis. While waiting his turn to check out, his gaze had wandered to the magazine display and settled on the new issue of “NOW”. The image on the cover, although GQ’d up in an insanely urbane way, was… him.
After reading the article, Brash threw some stuff in a duffle and left his club, The Sons of Sanctuary, with a vague explanation about needing a couple of days away. He left his Jeep at the Austin airport and caught a plane for New York, on a mission to find the guy who was walking around with his face.
Two brothers, one a player, one a playboy, are on a collision course with destiny and a woman who thought she won a prize when she was allowed a look inside the Sons of Sanctuary MC.


Available at Amazon  BN   Kobo   iTunes



Excerpt:
“Sir?” Brash Fornight gradually became aware that someone behind him in the grocery checkout line was trying to get his attention. “Sir?” He refocused and glanced behind him. The woman leaning on a cart overflowing with chip bags and cookie boxes nodded toward the cashier indicating that it was his turn to move forward. Brash looked her in the eye and had to give her props. Most people wouldn’t have the balls to try to herd a guy wearing Sons of Sanctuary MC leather. The club employed a woman who cooked and did grocery shopping several times a week as part of her job description, but Brash didn’t like to explain his relentless craving for peanuts and he liked being teased about it even less. He didn’t know whether it was the Vitamin B or the fat or just because he liked the taste, but he couldn’t imagine going a day without them. That’s how he came to be standing statue still In the grocery checkout line, being prompted by some woman with more nerve than sense. While he was waiting, his eyes drifted over the magazine display and settled on the cover of “NOW”, on the Most Eligible Bachelor edition no less. The debonair figure staring back was wearing Brash’s own face and body. He looked different with short hair and a four thousand dollar suit with the shirt fashionably open at the neckline, but the similarity was inescapable.On impulse he grabbed the magazine and tossed it onto the conveyor belt with his week’s stash of peanuts. He stuffed the bags into the saddlebags of his bike and roared toward home, nervously tapping his fingers on handlebars at red lights, riding on shoulders to keep from slowing down. He was anxious to get to the privacy of his own room and read about Branach St. Germaine. Two beers, one jar of peanuts, and one “NOW” article later, Brash was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at the wall, seeing nothing but his own heavy thoughts. He pulled out his phone, looked up a website, and waited on hold for ten minutes to hear the time of the next flight from Austin to New York.
There was a flight to Newark in a little over three hours. He looked at his watch and calculated the time it would take to drive from Dripping Springs at that time of day. As he booked the flight, he stood up, walked to the small closet, grabbed a duffel bag, and began shoving stuff into it. Ten minutes later, he closed his door and locked it, threw the duffel over his shoulder, and headed straight for the office downstairs. He dropped the duffel on the hallway floor beside the closed door and knocked.“Yeah?” Brash looked inside, glad that his dad was by himself, and stepped in. “What’s up?”“I’m takin’ personal time, Pop. Gonna be gone for a couple of days.”“What the hell is ‘personal time’?”The gruffness made Brash smile. “It means I’m not gonna be here if you call and I’m not tellin’ you why.”The Sons of Sanctuary President looked up at Brash, over the top of his readers, and narrowed his eyes. “You got a secret?”“Everybody’s got secrets.”Brandon Fornight studied his son for a minute. “True enough. Is it the kind of secret that could affect this club?”Brash shook his head. “Don’t see how.”“Well, then. See you… When did you say you’d be back?”“I didn’t.”“Bein’ purposefully vague, are you?”Brash grinned. “That’s why they call it personal time. But I expect to be back Friday.”“You gonna have your phone with you?” When Brash nodded, Bran looked back down at his ledger in a deliberately dismissive gesture. “Well, get outta here then.”Brash parked his bike in the airplane hangar. The structure had already been on the property when the club had bought it and turned it into a compound twenty years earlier. They used part of it for vehicle maintenance and repair and part for parking.Some of the guys who were working looked over and shot curious glances his way when Brash threw his duffel into his pickup and started it up, but it wasn’t their way to ask questions. The Sons figured that if somebody wanted you to know something, they’d tell you.Brash took a cab to a midtown hotel, wondering all the way why human beings would choose to live in such a place. As he slid his credit card across the hotel counter to the agent on duty, he glanced at the name, Brandon Fornight. It seemed unlikely that it was a coincidence that that the mysterious look-alike’s first name began with the same four letters. He ordered room service and pulled out his laptop.Getting intel on the guy didn’t take advanced ops. Within an hour Brash knew where Brannach St. Germaine worked, what kind of car he drove, what kind of women he dated, who his tailor was, and where he liked to dine. There was no shortage of photos online, but the one that grabbed his attention wasn’t one of the many with starlets or debutantes on his arm. It was the one taken with his arm around his mother as they were arriving together for some red carpet fundraiser. Brash had an almost irresistible compulsion to reach up and touch her face on the screen in front of him.
The knock on the door signaled that room service had arrived. It cost a fortune, but looked and tasted like shit. So he closed the computer and went out for a walk to clear his head and find something edible.
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Danann, is making her debut into Contemporary Romance with releases in May and June 2015, after taking the world of PNR by storm.
Her Knights of Black Swan series won Best Paranormal Romance Two years in a Row (2013, 2014). ~Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.
Victoria’s paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on “imaginary” creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. 
Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, past life therapists, or financial analysts from Dallas. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners – usually – whether they be elves, demons, berserkers, werewolves, or vampires.
The first book of the Knights of Black Swan Paranormal Romance Series, My Familiar Stranger, was nominated for Best Paranormal Romance of 2012 by both Reviewers’ Choice and Readers’ Choice Awards. All of her books have opened on the Amazon Best Sellers list and earned Night Owl Reviews Top Pick awards.
Many have appeared on Listopia Book of the Month as #1 across all genres.
For books published in 2013, Black Swan won three awards.
1. Best Paranormal Romance Series2. Best Paranormal Romance Novel – A SUMMONER’S TALE
3. Best Vampire~Shifter Novel – MOONLIGHT.
In 2014, Solomon’s Sieve won Best Vampire Novel.
If you’re interested in me personally, I am also a classically trained musician who defected to Classic Rock and that’s my first love. Yeah. Even more than writing.
This is Roadhouse, the very best in Classic Rock, taken near The Last Concert Cafe, Houston Texas, 2011. I was the utility player which means I played rhythm guitar, keyboards, sang backups and a few leads.
www.facebook.com/vdanann   
www.facebook.com/authorvictoriadanann
https://www.facebook.com/groups/772083312865721/777140922359960/
https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/108735-victoria-danann-order-of-the-black-swan
@vdanann
www.pinterest.com/vdanann  

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