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Blitz: Cherry Blossom by Sotia Lazu

Cherry BlossomVampire CherryBook IISotia Lazu
Genre: Erotic Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Acelette PressDate of Publication: 18 December 2014
ISBN: 978-0692291986ASIN: B00OS4WZ7U
Number of pages: 228Word Count: 59,120
Cover Artist: Sotia Lazu
Book Description:
With her murderous maker still on the run, Cherry has enough on her mind even before her newly turned boyfriend, Alex, demands they meet each other's parents. Constantine, her ex and now member of the vampire council, is suspiciously quick to allow this breach of vampire law. It soon becomes clear there's a lot Cherry doesn't know about her family's past. 
And it's threatening her present and her future.
Alex is changing, Ádísa is dead but not as gone as she should be, and feelings forced aside are reconsidered. Back in her hometown, and faced with an overabundance of new information, Cherry is determined to fight for herself, her family, and her man.
That's when her world is turned upside down.
Again.
Available at  Amazon  BN  Kobo  iTunes  Smashwords   ARe
Excerpt: “There has been a possible sighting of Willoughby.” Constantine motioned at Liza, and she hurried to refill his teacup.Gag.“I can’t say more at this time, but you should be getting ready for a trip at short notice,” he said.Alex nodded, unperturbed as always by Constantine’s exaggerated air of mystery.I wasn’t that big a person. “You got us out of bed to tell us someone’s seen the bad guy, but not who or where? What’s next?” I deepened my voice to a basso. “It will rain one day in the near or distant future.” In my normal pitch, I asked, “Was that doomsday-worthy enough for you?”“Cherry, this is all I can tell you right now. You have to trust me. What matters is we may have a clue as to his surroundings, if not his intentions.”“A clue you won’t share with the class.”“I’m sure he’ll tell us more when he knows more.” Alex placed one hand over mine, which I’d apparently fisted without realizing it. His effort at soothing me had the opposite result.“He knows more now.” I locked my gaze on Constantine’s. “Don’t you?”Constantine shook his head and smiled ruefully. “When did you become so cynical?”I scrunched my face in mock concentration, then widened my eyes. “I know! Must have been about the same time I found out you’d been lying to me for years, and our entire relationship was a sham. Yup, that was the exact moment.”His eyes were a stormy midnight blue that usually meant anger or extreme pain. Yes, the man came with preinstalled mood-rings on his face.I wasn’t being fair. His maker had appointed him my sponsor. She wanted me to fall for him, and it hadn’t taken long for that to happen. But at the time, Constantine didn’t know Ádísa had ordered my turning. And contrary to her wishes, he’d really loved me in return. Just weeks ago, he insisted he still did.Liza walked up behind Constantine, and laid both hands on his shoulders. Until that moment, I’d only thought of her as Head Concubine. I’d assumed all they shared was sex and blood. Apparently, I’d been at least partially wrong there.How well she knew him astounded me. Even though Constantine’s posture didn’t change, Liza noticed the subtle increase of tension in his body, just like I did. Thing was, I couldn’t tell if Constantine’s discomfort was out of guilt over the lies he’d told me in the past—for which he’d atoned by killing his own maker—or because he really knew more about Willoughby than he let on.I didn’t want it to be the latter. Not when he’d been regaining my trust. My stomach clenched at the possibility. Instead of asking him, I said, “Fine, be mysterious. But while we’re here, can you remind Alex we’re not supposed to keep in touch with our families?” Might as well get one problem out of the way.The tiny lines of tension around Constantine’s eyes smoothed out, and his jaw relaxed. Was it me, or did my ex seem relieved by my change of subject?Before Constantine could speak, Alex piped in. “I want Cherry and me to meet each other’s folks. I know it’s not something vampires do, but I’m still alive as far as my mother knows, and I don’t see how Cherry’s family would be anything but ecstatic to see her again. She was never declared dead, just missing, so she can tell them she was off finding herself or something.”I didn’t expect the matter-of-fact way he’d presented his case to do him any good. What he was asking went against council policy. No way would Constantine condone it.Constantine smiled, his irises now faded to their normal light blue. “We have been doing things our own way for a while now.” He shrugged, apparently oblivious to how my mouth gaped at his response. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t do as you please, as long as you’re careful. I will, however, be joining you when you visit Cherry’s parents. As a precautionary measure, in case things go awry. I’ll have to make some arrangements first, but we should be able to leave by the end of the week.”It was obvious from Alex’s eager expression that he’d go along with anything to get the go-ahead for his silly fantasy. I didn’t exactly view things the same way. It was weird how readily Constantine had agreed.“Precautionary measure?” I asked. “You plan to mind-wipe them, if our little reunion is threatening to the vampire community?” Meaning if my parents somehow realized I was undead, freaked out, and threatened to tell the world about our existence.The look he gave me was full of scorn. “No.” The word sounded like it was mentally accompanied by several non-flattering adjectives. “What I had in mind was that you’ll have a member of the council with you, in case another vampire realizes what you’re up to. My presence will make your visit legitimate.” I could swear I heard him finish his sentence in my head with, “You idiot.”“Oh.” Because, what else could I say? He only had our best interest at heart, and I really should stop being so suspicious of him. If he said it was all right, it probably was. “Okay then, I guess.”Constantine grinned. “Besides, a road trip with just the three of us? Think how much fun it will be.”Yeah, he was hiding something, all right. All this cheer wasn’t normal. “What’s in it for you?” I asked.“Just the pleasure of your company.” His mocking tone and arched eyebrow didn’t exactly vouch for his sincerity.
About the Author:
Sotia’s making do with Greek reality, while writing and mostly thinking in English.
She loves romances with a twist and urban fantasy novels, always with vivid erotic elements. Her favorite characters to write are not conventional hero-material at first glance, and she enjoys making them fight for their happiness.
Sotia shares her life and living quarters with her husband, their son, and two rescue dogs, one of which may be part-pony. Sappy movies make her bawl like a baby, and she wishes she could take in all the stray dogs in the world.
Also, she hates mornings!
www.sotialazu.com
@justsotia
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sotia-Lazu-Author/506067129453183
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4597070.Sotia_Lazu
http://www.amazon.com/Sotia-Lazu/e/B006ZXWZYK

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Guest Blog and Giveaway with Betty Bolté

I’d like to share the reasons why I fell in love with reading historical romance. The follow-on is that I enjoy writing it as well, but that’s because I love reading it so there’s no list to make for that aspect. There is a difference, of course, between historical romance and historical fiction. I read both and enjoy both but for slightly different reasons. So for the top 5 reasons I love historical romance (drum roll, please):

#5. In addition to the happily-ever-after, feel good ending, I learn a bit about the history of that time and place and the people involved. I am a romantic at heart, so having a man and woman fall in love adds to the story no matter the “parent” genre.

#4. I feel like I’m cheating my history professors by reading fun and interesting facts about history instead of boring names, places, and dates and/or figures. And numbers are so NOT my friend! I remember concepts presented in words far easier than equations and statistics, so for me reading a story helps me remember the history even though when researching for my books the stats and dates are often what triggers the story line. Go figure…

#3. Seeing how a man and woman courted in the past is fascinating. The limitations and expectations their society imposed upon them contrasts sharply with my own experience dating my hubby. Makes me feel rather wanton by comparison, let me tell ya. That’s not a bad thing, either!

#2. My love of learning about language is satisfied by the peek into the past of how folks spoke to each other, the words they chose to use, and the idioms to be found that we find quaint or even shocking today. Words evolve over time as far as when they originate in our language and how they are used (meanings shift or even flip from being a negative to a positive) over time.

#1. Historical romances bring the past alive in a way that allows me to see what life was like in other regions at other times. I can start to see the continuum of human existence and how we affect each other. Grappling with understanding how and why people treat each other makes me an ever better author as well.

How about you? Why do you enjoy reading historical romances?

Emily’s VowA More Perfect UnionBook 1Betty Bolté
Genre:  Historical Romance
Publisher: ePublishing Works!Date of Publication: October 4, 2014
Ebook: 978-1-61417-654-1Paperback: 978-1-61417-655-8ASIN: B00O7601NY
Number of pages:  247
Cover Artist: ePublishing Works!
Book Description:
Emily Sullivan’s greatest fear is dying in childbirth, as did her twin sister and their mother. Then she’s thrown in a loyalist prison for her privateering father’s raids on the British, and her accuser--a former beau--promises to recant if she will marry him.
Frank Thomson always loved Emily despite her refusal to return his affections. A patriot spy posing as a loyalist officer, when Frank learns of Emily’s plight, he challenges her accuser to a duel.
Freed from prison, Emily ponders returning the affections of her rescuer--the only man she's ever loved and who married her twin to save the Sullivan family's reputation. But Frank cannot afford to be discovered. For the sake of young America, he must deliver his secrets.
Available for .99   
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Excerpt:
Emily hurried down the sandy road beside her friend, noting the waning sunshine draping shadows across the street. The slap of the waves at the distant convergence of the Cooper and Ashley Rivers beat a syncopated rhythm against the array of ship hulls, large and small, in the protected harbor. Many of the masts bobbing against the darkening sky sported the hated British flag. The losing army had resorted to sanctioned looting of the beautiful homes—those still standing after two years of British occupation as well as fires and bombardments—as booty for the officers and soldiers before they withdrew. She hoped they would leave soon, but nobody knew exactly when the British ships planned to depart. They'd already sent the bells to London along with other pilfered items. In fact, the British officers sought retaliation for the threat posed by the patriots, who had hidden their true allegiance, against the loyalists living in the city. The officers encouraged harassment of the American citizens, which translated into her father, a leading merchant in town, fearing for her safety more than ever. Until the British actually evacuated, uncertainty and fear blanketed the town.Dragging in a deep breath, unease settled over Emily's frayed nerves at the thought of Frank's return. "I cannot believe Father insists I marry him after all that man has done. Surely Americans have matured enough they wouldn't force a woman to marry. It's 1782, after all. I'm not a child. Why doesn't he understand?"A seagull glided past, its laughing call bringing a smile to her face. Her enjoyment didn't last long, though. The occupation of the town created fear and disquiet throughout the citizenry. Add in the horror of her sister Elizabeth's fiancé Jedediah dying, leaving her pregnant and in need of a husband. Then Jedediah's brother Frank, the man Emily had secretly cared for, married her sister to keep the child from being a bastard. Emily survived the misery of watching Frank marry Elizabeth only to suffer much more when Elizabeth died in childbirth with Frank away at war. Emily had come to terms with the prospect of raising her nephew, but being forced into marriage with Frank, too? How could life turn and twist with such disregard for her future goals and plans?Frank's imminent arrival now distressed her as much as the three hundred British ships crowding the harbor. The rumor about town suggested the ships stood poised to carry away the defeated enemy troops along with any loyalists wanting to flee the town. Many slaves would likely take the chance on freedom offered by the British, despite the American protests. The constant motion of the water for once failed to soothe her troubled thoughts."Have you told your father how you feel?" Samantha matched Emily's stride easily despite her slight limp and the basket she carried.Sharing her feelings with her father had once enjoyed an easy place in Emily's heart. Now his demands for her to cloister within the theoretic safety of the town house, joined with his desire that she marry to secure her future, made confiding in him difficult. His concern stemmed from her advancing age with few appropriate prospects for marriage due to America's fight for its independence from an overbearing mother country, which seemed to be winding down. She longed for those carefree days, years before, filled with friendly banter and heartfelt discussions with her father.Emily wrinkled her nose. "I haven't spoken with him, not that I think he'll care. He's more concerned with my supposed need for a protector while he's away." What a pickle. Did he have to choose Frank to serve as both bodyguard and suitor?The thought created ripples of fear along her spine. Marrying a man, any man, meant losing her individuality, a fate she dreaded. The vows included obeying and honoring him, which translated into having his children. She shivered, recalling her twin sister on her deathbed mere days after delivering her son. Emily held her hand as Elizabeth's life departed, her fingers falling limp within Emily's clutching grasp. Just like their mother before her.So many young women across the country feared pregnancy and being brought to bed for that very reason. Elizabeth, like many of those women, had written out her will when she discovered she carried a child. At least the document detailed her wishes for her son. And her surrogate husband, Frank Thomson. Elizabeth was to wed Jedediah, the betrothal announced and celebrated, before Elizabeth revealed she was with child. The banns had been read twice when his militia duty arose and he'd left to fight. If Jedediah hadn't been killed, Frank would not have felt obligated to do his duty as Jedediah's brother to wed Elizabeth and give the unborn child a father and thus avoid bastardy.Emily used to think of him as her Frank, until he told her his decision to wed Elizabeth. Her heart had hurt for months as she struggled to understand and accept the reality that she could never have him. But once Elizabeth died in similar circumstances as their mother, Emily's fear of dying as a result of childbirth eclipsed any naive desire to marry.No, better to pursue her dreams of opening her ladies' accessories shop. She squared her shoulders, ready to face the astonishment of the ladies in town as well as plan a strategy for the battle when her father voiced his objections.
Amy’s ChoiceA More Perfect UnionBook 2Betty Bolté
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Date of Publication: October 5, 2014
Ebook: 978-1-61417-659-6Paperback: 978-1-61417-660-2ASIN: B00O7984P8
Number of pages:  231
Book Description:
Without a goodbye, Amy Abernathy's childhood sweetheart, Benjamin Hanson, leaves to fight in the American War for Independence.
Amy chooses to pick up the pieces of her heart and leave Charles Town to help her sister who is with child.
Benjamin knows he hurt Amy, but he plans to make it up to her after his mission is completed. Then he learns that Amy has been captured by renegade soldiers. Now Benjamin faces his own choice: free the sassy yet obstinate woman he's never stopped loving or protect Charles Town from vengeful British occupation.
Available at Amazon    BN    Kobo   iBooks  Google Books
Excerpt: "Benjamin, what brings you out here so early this morning?" Walter slathered yellow butter on yet another slice of bread.Amy kept her eyes on her plate, but her movements slowed, indicating she listened intently."Colonel Scarsdale made an important announcement last week, one that increases the chance of violent retaliation and looting by the British troops as they prepare to evacuate the city." Benjamin kept his eyes on Walter but watched Amy's actions at the side of his vision."Is the war finally over then?" Walter laid down his knife, eyes intent on Benjamin."It appears to be, all but the acts of signing the peace treaty and evacuating His Majesty's troops.""When might that happen?" Emily fisted her napkin and gazed at him with hopeful eyes."As soon as conditions allow them to leave the harbor. But between now and then they will scavenge for any items of value they can lay their hands upon." He willed Amy to look at him, and finally she rewarded him by lifting her eyes to meet his. The force of her gaze sent a shock racing through him, stirring a reaction below his belt. Shifting to be more comfortable, he held her stare for a moment."But how does that impact us out here?" Amy regarded him, one hand poised above her plate, a bite of ham waiting. "Surely the Britons will not harm us so far from town. They'll be busy preparing to evacuate.""Clearly you do not fathom the reality of the matter." When Amy merely stared at him, realization dawned as to the extent of the situation before him. He nearly let out a loud breath in annoyance. He checked the reflex. He needed to address the fact that Amy wasn't the only one in danger. Ideas popped into his head and he dismissed several before nodding. A simple solution. "I have come to take the girls back to town where I can keep them safe."A startled silence followed his pronouncement."We are safe here." Samantha strode into the room and made straight for the sideboard.Benjamin rose to greet her, and she waved him back into his seat. As he resettled himself, he noted Walter had not moved from where he sat crunching on a slice of apple."Yes, more so than we'd be in town at any rate." Emily looked from one person to another. "So many soldiers still roam the streets, after all.""Besides, we cannot move Evelyn." Amy held knife and fork poised to slice through the ham. "I won't leave her here alone. She needs help until the baby arrives, and for a span after.""She has me." Walter laid his hands flat on the table at either side of his plate. "I can take care of her."Why did Walter brace himself as he spoke about his wife? Benjamin recognized the defensive nature, an insecurity, exemplified in Walter's behavior.Amy darted a glance at Walter, then returned her gaze to Benjamin. "That's my fear."Her mouth formed a stubborn pout as her eyes reflected her concern. What had occurred here to provoke such a statement? Amy glanced at Walter with unease plain in her expression, her distrust of the man evident. Despite himself, Benjamin tensed at the idea of Amy living under the same roof as Walter."I know how to defend myself, so I'll stay." Samantha placed her napkin in her lap. "More to the point, Evelyn will deliver any day now, and she'll need me."Walter looked like he wanted to say something but held his thoughts in check. His brow lowered as he dipped his bread into his coffee. Walter did not act as refined in character as his appearance first suggested. More pieces to the puzzle fell into place, but still some holes remained before Benjamin formed an opinion of him."You'll need help with running this place." Emily laid her napkin on the table, her eyes steady on Samantha. "I'm accomplished at that, so I will stay to assist."Seeing where this was leading, Benjamin made an effort to change the conversation's course. "In the event, Miss Amy stays with me." He spoke with less conviction than earlier as his resolve wilted under the arguments put forth by the women surrounding him. "I can't stay away from town long, not only because Captain Sullivan expects me to ensure the museum collection is not touched, but also because Amy's father requested I bring my fiancée back posthaste."A feminine gasp drew his eyes to Amy's startled expression. Damnation. Too late, he realized his error as, in rhythm with three blinks, her stubborn expression shifted to surprise, then anger."Pardon me?" Her eyebrows arched over wide eyes. "You are engaged? To whom, pray tell?"The set of her jaw dared him to say what he must in order to tell the truth of the matter. An attack of cotton mouth forced him to try to swallow as he searched for the proper response. How crass could he be, blurting out his bald intent? His carefully prepared speech blown apart by his own foolish words. Again, words had tripped him up and left him floundering. Yet, his mother would be proud of him for sticking to the facts, even if they created an awkward moment. He heaved a sigh. Nothing for it but the bare truth. "I spoke with your parents a few days ago, and they agreed...""Stop." Amy, face red, held up a hand as though warding off a blow. "Pray, don't tell me my parents actually negotiated with you for my hand?"
About the Author:
Betty Bolté writes both historical and contemporary stories featuring strong, loving women and brave, compassionate men. No matter whether the stories are set in the past or the present, she loves to include a touch of the paranormal. In addition to her romantic fiction, she’s the author of several nonfiction books and earned a Master’s in English in 2008. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, and the Authors Guild. Get to know her at www.bettybolte.com.
Website: www.bettybolte.com
Blog: www.bettybolte.com/blog.htm
Newsletter: www.bettybolte.com/newsletter.htm
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorBettyBolte
Twitter: @BettyBolte
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/bettybolte
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/bettybolte9
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/bettybolte

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WaterfallA Dragon’s Fate NovellaBook 1
Lacy Danes
Genre: Romance, Alternate Worlds, Paranormal, Steamy/Erotic
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Number of pages: 138Word Count: 38K
Cover Artist: Kanaxa    
Book Description:
It’s easy to fall in love. Destiny requires tooth and claw.
Curses are designed to be cruel, but the one afflicting Jordan and his brothers  is almost beyond bearing. A dragon born by blood magic, he is an immortal  trapped in human form, with only one hope of finding his eternal mate. He must  bite her—and pray she lives.
One dark night, he senses the wounded heartbeat of a woman in the shadows, begging him to end her life. Ever the gentleman, he chivalrously obliges her wish. Only to discover three days later that she lives. And has married another.
Celeste always dreamed of marrying for love, but the nightmare of living in her father’s home drives her to wed the Duke of Hudson. Yet on her wedding eve, she is compelled to follow a mysterious man who professes to know her secret. A man with curious blue scales on his muscular arms—whose shadowed eyes reflect a dangerous mix of destiny and desire… 
Warning: This novel contains explicit sex, sex in water, four super-hot dragon brothers, and a curse born from magical power that has left them wondering who they are all their lives.
Available at Samhain   BN   Amazon  iTunes  Google Books

Excerpt:               Carefully stepping around scattered, fractured boards, trunks and lengths of tangled rope, Jordan and Ferrous neared the last grouping of rocks at the trees’ edge. Jordan sighed. About time.
A faint heartbeat crawled out of the obscure shadows, stalked up his spine. Something lived from this bloody mess. Though barely.
Jordan stilled.
Ferrous turned to the left. “I feel it too.”
Jordan followed.
On the opposite side of the rocks, jagged boards bumped, clattering against a boulder. A mass of tangled human remains bobbed and swayed with each lap of water against the shore.
From this mess, a heartbeat cried. Jordan closed his eyes and sighed as his stomach flipped. He would find it. He stepped into the water amid the carnage and shuddered. I must move as hastily as possible. I can do this. The sound of life grasped him as if a hand itself clasped his flesh. He flinched, then turned to the left.
An arm’s length away, half in the water, lay a woman. Her limbs were twisted and broken, as if made of nothing more than weeds. A man’s head, severed from the body it had once belonged to, floated close to her hand. Jordan’s heart pinched, and the scales on his elbows prickled anew.
No one deserved to be half alive after experiencing a tragedy such as this. He stepped up next to her, knocking the human debris away with his boot. He leaned down and wrapped one hand about her slim, bare shoulders. The other he slid beneath her knees, fisting up a handful of her full skirts. She should have drowned in such a garment. He lifted her, pulling her body up against his.
She hung like a sack of barley in his grasp. Her long, wet skirts and hair trailed cold water in a stream, trickling over the rocks and babbling down into his boots. He turned and stumbled along the slag toward the trees.
Ferrous turned after him. “She won’t live, Jordan.” He strode behind him. “Leave her.”
Her clothing, laden with seawater, soaked his coat in blood. Was it hers or the rotting blood of the pool in which she had lain? He shook his head. Don’t think about the stench. He grimaced. Think about her.
Ferrous was right. She would never live.
He fell to his knees and laid her on the high grass that bordered the trees. Her dress was that of an aristocrat, finely tailored with small pearls and embroidery now torn open down to her flesh in several places. Her hair had been swept up with the sun, golden rays that now hid beneath a cloud of red death. “I will end her suffering.” Yes, that was the correct thing to do.
“For bloody sake, Jordan. You are not to indulge unless you have an inkling she may be the one. There are no exceptions to our rules. Look what happens to Ilmir when he breaks one. Who knows what calamity awaits us in London.”
Jordan’s jaw clenched, and he narrowed his eyes, refusing to look at Ferrous, who stood behind him. “This is different, and you damn well know it. I am not Ilmir, and she is not a woman I am courting. She is dying.”
“Being chivalrous?” Ferrous threw up his hands, grumbled and walked through the trees back toward the shore. “Make haste. I wish to make this hellish scene vanish this hellish scene and be to London to deal with Ilmir.”
Did Ferrous truly think he wanted to do this? To kill another woman was the last thing he wished. Twenty years had passed… Jordan inhaled a deep breath and blew it out between tense lips. He ran his fingers down her pale cheek and around her chin, tilting her face toward his. A slender nose, full, angelic lips, and noble cheekbones. A beauty. “To a better afterlife, dear.”
He raised her chin, exposing her long, graceful neck and faintly beating pulse. Another death…
Dash it. He stared unblinking at the slight flutter of her blood beneath her skin. Relax, Jordan. He closed his eyes and exhaled. All will be well.
Prickling pain clawed through the roof of his mouth as his two pointed teeth extended into thin slivers of bone. He stared down at her neck. She had been floating in blood and seawater. He spit on her neck, twice. His saliva glimmered as it slid down her throat to the grass below. There, that should wash away the dirt she had stewed in. Or would it? His throat tightened. Don’t lick her. Be done with it.
He leaned in and pressed his teeth to her vein. His mouth opened, saliva pooled heavily, and his tongue thickened. The pouches by his back teeth filled with poisonous blood, forcing his jaw still wider. He inhaled a jagged breath. His heart leapt and pounded, vibrating through his entire being…
Bite her, Jordan. Be done with it. Bite her.
Her faint pulse bumped against his teeth, willing him to take her as his mate. Mate? Well, that urge was pointless. She would pass just as swiftly as the others. He rolled his lip back and hissed, then pressed, slicing through her soft, salty outer skin and into her tepid blood flowing below.
She didn’t flinch.
This was the first time he had taken a woman when he was not passionately joined with her. Odder yet not to have her scream. To have her do nothing but lie on the wilted grass.
He swallowed. Dirt be damned, he needed to taste her and know that one essence of the life he now took. He fluttered his tongue on her smooth skin. Warm, salty blood slid thickly down his tongue. Damn. His muscles quivered as his poisonous blood streamed from his pouches and down his teeth, twisting into her veins. His cock pressed painfully hard against his thigh.
The task was done. There would be no more. He would not take his pleasure in her. He would not know the feel of her flesh against his. He would never know her favorite color. This woman, like all the others who had come before, was not meant to be his. Enough!
He growledand opened his mouth wide. Her soft flesh slipped from his fangs. He pulled his head back, and their mixed blood trailed in streams down her neck and dress. His vision shifted and popped. Adrenaline mixed with power bubbled through his veins. This…this, he had missed.
This was what he was meant to be. His full elemental power at a glimpse. He tossed his hair back and then growled a dragon’s cry up to where the moon should hang in a radiant, colored vision. Yet only the ebony fog resided tonight. There was no moon to lighten this scene. His vision rippled with detailed clarity. Ah. Indeed. This was the power that years of existence without his mate had diminished. He wanted this power back. It had been too long. In a burst of speckled light, everything changed back to somber mist. Bloody hell. His throat closed off, and his eyes burned. No! He swallowed hard, and his shoulders sagged. This was a tease. A temptation.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He would never know more of what the Zir were than this… Death and a glimpse of the exhilarating power they were destined to have.
He inhaled and smelled her metallic, sweet blood on his lips. His tongue traced his teeth and upper lip, gathering up the enslaving essence. Sweet orange blossoms and candied cherries. His made-up version of what she should taste like. Remember her. His jaw trembled as hot blood pounded through him to his groin. His soul wanted more of her. To mate. To love. To live a lifetime of companionship.
He clenched his teeth, and his fangs pierced his lower lip. You have done enough to end her suffering. Quite enough. Let her be. He opened his eyes once more.
A shadow shaped as Ferrous stood head down and arms straight out in the air at the rocks’ edge. “Make haste. I wait no more.”
Jordan placed her head softly back on the grass. “Will scant be a moment more of pain, beauty.” He trailed his hand down her broken arm to a heavy, thick bracelet looping her wrist. He unclasped the chain and slowly rubbed the metal between his fingers. His token of her death. He tucked the jewelry in his inner coat pocket, then rose to his full height. Turning to his left, he skulked into the inky woods.



About the Author:
Lacy Danes made a New Year's resolution to write a hot, historical romance.
A year and a half later, she achieved her goal. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where besides writing she enjoys playing cards, chasing her kids around, and savoring a great martini with the man of her dreams all while watching the world go by.
Visit Lacy at her web site.
www.LacyDanes.com
http://twitter.com/lacydanes
https://www.facebook.com/LacyDanes

Guest Blog and Giveaway: Destiny Calling by Maureen L. Bonatch

Where do you get your ideas?
The question most authors dread because they can’t explain where the story came from or what inspired them, especially for someone like me who’s a self-proclaimed panster; writing by the seat of my pants. Usually I hear my main character speak up with a single line and I have to pay attention to see where the story goes from there. Although telling someone the voices in my head told me might elicit a raised an eyebrow, unless they know it’s a writer talking. That makes it okay. (Hopefully)As for Destiny Calling, I can remember the exact moment the story called out to me. I was sitting in the parking lot of a convenience store and a rusty, old payphone attached to the side of the building started to ring. I’d never noticed the phone before, because no one used them anymore in the age of cell phones. I fought the urge to run out and answer it just to find out who was calling and what they might say. Instead I watched to see if someone picked up the receiver but no one did. The ringing subsided, the message left unspoken. Then Hope, from Destiny Calling, spoke to me (in my head, of course). “Today was the day I stopped being a redhead.”You’ll find the payphone made it into the story with a snippet of Chapter 2 of Destiny Calling.               A phone rang, shattering the silence. The birds called out, then exited en masse from the treetops. I absently patted my cell phone in my pocket, but it wasn’t my ringtone, and my battery was dead. Scanning outside the bar, I located a lone payphone barely hanging on to the corner of the building as if in homage to a past era.I struggled to stand, moving my legs toward the summoning ring. The scent of cinnamon began to lessen and subside. The ache in my head faltered, and the assault on my senses reached a plateau.I’d found my pain reliever.Unable to restrain the unexplainable urge any longer, I sprinted to the phone. Once I placed my hand on the phone, it stopped ringing. The headache subsided like a beast retreating into its cave until summoned again.I put the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”“Hope. Don’t trust him.” A soothing and somewhat familiar male voice whispered.“Who? Don’t trust who?” Static filled the line.“Who is this?” I pressed the receiver tighter, squinting toward the woods and around the parking lot.“Come to us. I’ll show you the way,” the caller beckoned.“How?”“Take a chance. You’ll see it’s your destiny.”Chief opened the bar door. “Just what in tarnation are you doin’?”The line went dead in my hand. I stared at the silent receiver. “I was on a call.”Chief scowled. “That darn phone hasn’t worked in years. I reckon the whole side of the building would cave in if I tried to take it off, so I leave the bucket of rust there.” He spit tobacco on the ground. “How could it work since some critters done chewed through the cord a while ago?”            He eyed me with suspicion. “A call you say, um, who was you talkin’ to, then?”
My anger deflated as the severed, twisted wires from the cord brushed against my leg. “I don’t know.”


Destiny CallingThe EnchantlingsVolume 1Maureen L. Bonatch
Genre: Paranormal Romancesubgenre: suspense, fantasy. Theme: New Adult, demons
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Date of Publication: December 22 2014
978-1-62830-666-8 Paperback978-1-62830-667-5 Digital
Number of pages:  310Word Count: 80,630
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor (DCA Graphics)
Book Description:
Hope only wants to find out if her ability to infuse euphoria or despair with her touch makes her the devil's spawn, or his exterminator. But when the woman who raised her is murdered by something not human, she loses the only family she knew and discovers one she might wish she hadn’t.
Drawn back to the home town she vowed never to return to, her ability is seen as an asset to everyone but Hope, and she doesn't know who to trust. Her family wants her to help them overcome an enemy oppressing the human population, while the man of her dreams is courting her for the Underworld.
Time is running out, and Hope’s choice may be made for her, as she discovers she’s a pawn in a bigger game played by a merciless ruler who doesn't lose.




Amazon Kindle   Amazon Paperback  The Wild Rose Press

Excerpt: I strained to release my arm from Griffith’s vise-like grip while scanning the surrounding trees, trying to determine which was less of a threat, the beast of a man holding me or those who might be waiting for me in the woods.“You will come inside, now.” Griffith spoke slowly and deliberately as if I were a small child.I batted at the hand Griffith placed on my head. “I’m not a puppy, quit petting me.”“I will protect you.” Griffith’s warm breath caressed my ear. “If for no other reason, to find out what I’m giving up and why she wants you so badly.”I inhaled his masculine scent, like musky earth. It washed over my face, and the tension in my jaw released. I stopped struggling. “Are you the devil?” My tongue was thick and heavy so the words came out slurred.“Not even close.” His words soothed and comforted, like having a weighted blanket cocoon me. Each movement was an effort. It wasn’t the same as the thing in the woods. This was more like the feeling after a long massage or bubble bath.“It’s not safe.” Griffith wrapped his arms around me, and I rested against his broad chest.“It’s not safe.” I nodded. My muscles relaxed and my eyelids grew heavy.“It’s cold. We’re going inside.” Griffith kept his arm supporting me as he steered me toward the house.“We’re going inside.” I parroted and walked up the steps, leaning heavily on him.
Out of the corner of my eye, something was cautiously moving at the edge of the woods. Branches snapped as whatever was observing us crept closer.
About the Author:
Growing up with four siblings had Maureen familiar with escaping into a good book, or the recesses of her mind. She realized later in life everyone didn’t have characters telling stories in their heads, or weren’t envisioning magic and mayhem within the everyday. This, and long walks in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania spawned a love of writing.
Since her desire to become a Solid Gold Dancer was thwarted when the show was discontinued, Maureen opted to pursue other paths. Attempting to conquer new endeavors proved fruitful with her first novella, while other attempts, such as challenging a fear of heights with parasailing, were unsuccessful.
Therefore she’s chased other interests, though none-the-less-daring, but closer to the ground, such as belly-dancing, becoming a self-proclaimed tequila connoisseur, fulfilling her role as biker babe to her alpha hubby and surviving motherhood to twins (so far).
Penning stories boasting laughter, light suspense and something magical in the hope of sharing her love of finding the extraordinary in the ordinary world.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mbonatch
Blog: http://www.maureenbonatch.com/blog/
Website: http://www.maureenbonatch.com
Newsletter:  http://eepurl.com/1AV4L
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/maureenbonatch/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maureenlbonatch
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3103486.Maureen_L_Bonatch

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Publishing Trends with HD Smith

Publishing trends are usually fairly obvious—I mean you can’t throw a rock and not hit at least three Billionaire Alpha Males, right? The problem with trends is that very few become categories. The only trend I can think of in recent history that might become its own category is “New Adult”, although I believe this is quickly becoming an age identifier (like Young Adult) and not the sub-genre of romance that the original books fitting this trend held, I still believe it’s here to stay. So, unless you’re a really fast writer, are well known enough to pitch just about anything, or you’re planning to go the Indie route if you don’t get someone interested—chasing trends is probably not the best strategy for deciding what to write next. Especially if you want to be published by one of the New York big boys—they’re looking for the next big thing—not another story like the twenty they just rejected.
Okay, so what do you do if you’ve inadvertently found yourself with a finished book that is at the tail end of a trend? You have a few options: 1) put it away until the trend is over (but starting to come back—this could take a while), 2) pitch it like it’s something else—at least let’s hope those Billionaire Alpha Male stories have something else going on, 3) hire your own editor and go Indie!, or 4) give it a makeover.
Before Dark Hope (book 1 in the series) was picked up by a small press in Canada, I pitched it to several New York City editors at a pitch conference in NYC. I was told by more than one that “angels and faeries are dead, but demons are okay.” As you can imagine I wasn’t happy, but the biggest reason was because I didn’t really think it mattered that they were angels—the story wasn’t about them being angels. Of course I couldn’t just pull out two thirds of the book and make it all about demons either.
As I mention above, I had my four choices. While 1-(put it away) was an option, I really didn’t want to pitch a story I didn’t have—and I was at a pitch conference so I had to pitch something; 2-(pitch it as something else) wasn’t really an option either—the cat was already out of the bag, so it would have been hard to spin it as a demon centric story on the fly; 3-(go Indie!) wasn’t something I was ready to do yet—and I was already at the conference, so I didn’t have anything to lose by pitching what I had. At this point I’d only been told by the pitch group leader that angels were going to be an issue, so I still had a little hope, and I pitched my original story to three of the four editors. Unfortunately, they all told me “angels and faeries are dead”.
It was obvious now—I had to go back to the drawing board, so that left 4-(makeover).
Okay, so there are really five options—but no one wants to look at their 90,000+ word baby, call it ugly, and toss it in the trash. And remember option 2-(pitch it as something else), this is really the key to option 4-(makeover)—the only difference is that you’re not just pitching (spinning) it as something else, you’re actually going to make it something else. The story wasn’t about angels—I mean, my angels were running the Underworld mob, they weren’t cute, and nobody had wings. So, angles are dead—fine—my boys just became druids. Faeries are dead, fine, I already had a significant tie in with pagans anyway. Problem solved, right?Not exactly.
While I ultimately liked my new direction, it was a shift in the story. Specifically, Harry (the ruler of Heaven—call him what you like), needed a new image. He didn’t have to be “the good one” (not that he was exactly anyway), but there wasn’t any baggage now to justify why he was or wasn’t “the good one”. His character was now free to be anything I wanted him to be, and that made for some interesting new dialog and motivation. It also let me bring in the royal angle—The Boss isn’t just the Devil, he’s now also the Demon King.
So, you may be wondering how that fourth pitch went? How my druids and pagans and demons panned out. Well, until I meet this woman in person, and she tells me otherwise, I say she was interested. Had I pitched that idea in person and she’d been able to give immediate feedback—I truly believe I would have gotten her email (which is all you really get at a pitch conference—a way to contact them and get that ever important foot in the door (without an agent)—your story could still suck and you get rejected, they may never ask for the manuscript, but at least they’ll read the first few pages and respond—that’s it, that’s all you get—one shot). Unfortunately, because she was ill and we were not able to pitch in person, she agreed to let us post our pitches online for her to review (in a closed group). She critiqued all the pitches (which was awesome), but the group leader never sent a final email to her or us indicating that he even asked if she wanted to see anyone’s work (which is how it would have happened at an in person pitch). So all we had were her comments—and because we could see everyone else’s critique, I know there were only two that she called “Commercial Ideas”, which was one of the goals of the pitch. Do I really think I would have been picked up by that publisher? That I would have blown her away with my awesome first chapter and been signed within minutes of her receiving my email? Let’s be realistic, probably not. Now, let’s be optimistic—but we’ll never know ;)
I’m now very happily an Indie Author. Book 1 (Dark Hope) was originally with a small press, but [long story omitted] it was re-released by me in July. Dark Awakened, book 2, was released December 1, 2014. It continues Claire’s kick-ass adventures—and is just as relentless as the first one!

Dark AwakenedThe Devil’s Assistant SeriesBook TwoH.D. Smith
Genre:  Paranormal/Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Wild Fey, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-942030-03-4ASIN: B00PNVCQ8U
Number of pages: 290Word Count: 88000
Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
Tag Line: Darkly delicious—relentless—and wickedly good … the Devil’s Assistant is back.
Book Description:
Last spring Claire’s seemingly normal—if not totally screwed up—life was tossed on its head. For five years she’d been one of the damned—a human that knows the truth about the otherworldly among us. She’d worked for The Boss—the Demon King himself—as his administrative assistant, handling everything from early retirements, to Maintenance’s incessant requests for dental.
No one gets dental.
Then she walked into Purgatory—totally not her fault—went back in time, and awakened powers she never knew existed. Now Claire has a prophecy hanging over her head, a diamond ring hidden in her sock drawer, and the blood of a long dead royal running through her veins.
And it’s only going to get worse.
Her vow to live free or die takes a serious hit when she’s forced back under The Boss’s protection. Of course, there’s no protection from fate, or the Bounty Hunter sent to deliver her to Purgatory. And as if being “the girl” in the prophecy wasn’t enough, Claire soon discovers there are three other contenders for her role—two of whom want her dead.
Follow more of Claire’s adventures in Dark Awakened, the second installment of the Devil’s Assistant Series, to find out if she’s lucky enough to escape with her life, or if she’s just the first notch on the next contender’s belt.

Available at Amazon  BN   Kobo   Amazon Print
Reviews for The Devil’s Assistant Series

Dark Hope is a serious thrill ride type of story ~Fang Freakin' Tastic Reviews
I fell absolutely head over heels in love with this book! It truly was dark & delicious. Mayhem, death, Demons, Pagan's, Druids and a kickass heroine!~ Taking It One Book at a Time
I thoroughly enjoyed this story, very unpredictable and difficult to anticipate what happens next, which is always a good thing.   Claire is an intriguing character, everything she thought she knew is not quite true …I cannot wait for the next book in series, eager to figure out what is going to happen to Claire. ~ Musings From An Addicted Reader
I love when authors can create something that takes me on a wild ride I’ve never been before. ~ Book Lovin' Mamas

About the Author:
HD Smith has been writing for over ten years. She is a software developer by day, working for an awesome cruise line in Celebration, FL.
HD grew up in South Carolina, but has called the Sunshine State home since 1997.
She has Computer Science degrees from Clemson University (BS) and Florida Institute of Technology (MS). Her other hobbies include painting and screen printing. She enjoys creating t- shirts inspired by the places in her books. For more information, visit HD’s website at http://www.hdsmithauthor.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/floridaHeather
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/hdsmithauthorpage
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7352038.H_D_Smith

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Guest Blog and Giveaway Dreams of a Wild Heart by Danube Adele

Developing Culture Through FoodDanube Adele
My grandmother would often surprise us with a knock on the door early Saturday morning when I was a kid, bringing with her a carload of bags filled with deliciousness. Steaming bags of barbacoa (a deliciously spiced shredded beef), tamales, beans and rice were accompanied by salsa, cilantro, chopped onions and lemons. Of course, corn tortillas were needed to be warmed, and the most wonderful tacos could be made. I loved it. In spite of my parents grumbling over the early hour of the morning, usually 7:30 a.m. when they were still in bed, we all made it to the table for this fabulous feast. To go with this meal was a lovely dessert. No Saturday morning meal was complete without pan dulce or Mexican pastry.
Many of my favorite memories surround special feasts, and I think this is true for many of us. Who doesn’t have favorite foods during special holidays, occasions or weekends even? Sunday in my house means there will be a lingering smell of cooked bacon all day, and that’s because Sunday we cook together (all four of us – kids included), lounge on the sofa together, and watch football after eating too much. I wouldn’t change a thing. These are the kinds of details that can add depth to a character and paint their picture with more clarity. Who do they eat with, if anyone? Do they have special meals with people they look forward to seeing, or are they alone, staring at a bowl of $.49 Chinese noodles rehydrated with hot water and powdered chicken broth? (Not to say I don’t love those quick noodles when I’m trying to get out of the house in ten minutes.)
Like Water for Chocolate, written by Laura Esquival, used food to introduce each new chapter of the book, which was wonderful. It was somehow always related to something happening within the scene. In The Godfather it was always interesting that these frighteningly violent mafia guys would all cook together, treating the food with great care when they treated their enemies to a blood bath. The juxtaposition added depth to who they were and what was meaningful to them. Family. Tom Hanks’ character in Turner & Hooch spends most of the beginning part of the movie alone. We see him cooking and eating very perfunctorily, nothing special, all by himself. It helps us to sympathize with him.
One of my favorite scenes in my new book Dreams of a Wild Heart is a family party near the beginning. Ceci, my main character has been looking forward to this meal all day. The celebration is for her parent’s thirtieth wedding anniversary. Chiles rellenos is one of the special dishes on the menu, and for anyone who has ever cooked them, you know why. They can be labor intensive. You have to brown the outside of the chile in order to be able to peel it off. Then it’s stuffed with something delicious, either meat or cheese, and baked with a wonderful sauce and cheese over the top. Quite wonderful. It’s during this party that different characters who have been part of Ceci’s life all come together, showing us more of who she is and where she comes from.
Thanks so much for taking time with me. What are the special dishes you look forward to eating with family and friends?
Dreams of a Wild HeartThe DreamwalkersBook ThreeDanube Adele
Book Description:
Dr. Cecilia—Ceci— Bradford at your service.
I dance, rock climb, and have mastered MMA, because just being a twenty-six-year-old doctor isn’t enough. It doesn’t keep me from remembering the terrifying night my life changed, the night my true love died. I was nearly seventeen. 
Life goes on, but the secret I keep is that I still talk to him in my dreams. That was getting me by until Tabron showed up—or, more specifically, until the six-foot-two brute of a Viking whisked me off to another planet because his leader is dying. And the joy didn’t end there. I’m being forced to choose a mate. The Brausa are facing extinction. 
Tabron has no need for a mate, himself, and he’s told me as much. Multiple times. What he does have are hands and wicked lips that stir feelings I thought lost forever. Choosing him (just to play along until I can find a way home) seems to irk him and I find this surprisingly fun. But surviving a hidden conspiracy and the dangers of this alien place might be more difficult than I could ever imagine…
Available at  Amazon  BN   Kobo  ebooks.com  
Fantastic Fiction  Amazon UK
PrologueThere were vicious elbows being thrown, shoulder slams when the ref wasn’t looking and very questionable slide tackles that took out several players. Clearly, the other coach had taught his team to play dirty, but even so, no one could touch number twelve.The tough-ass, hardcore soccer player wowing the crowd with trick moves and fierce determination was this cute little ten-year-old girl wearing a pink hair ribbon and sparkly pink cleats.My heart ached a little as I watched her run. This was the kind of kid we would have had, Carlos and me. She was kicking butt and making no apologies, taking the hits, hitching the ball up at just the right moments, jumping over outstretched feet, fighting past the obstacles and punching through the attacks. This kid had guts and a will of steel. I would’ve loved to have a little girl just like her.It was clear that the coach on the other team was about to have a coronary, his face tomato-red, his body heaving in start and stop sprints up and down the field while screaming at his team to Cover her! Cover her! She’s just a little girl! What’s your problem? You gonna let a girl beat you? He’d obviously expected his mostly boy team, with the few girls on the team being sat on the bench, to have a shutout. Wasn’t happening. The game was tied.My grin was mocking. Served him right. Schadenfreude to the max.My pink-cleated girl flashed by in a sudden breakaway move that had everyone jumping up from their chairs.Her long legs tore down the field. She dribbled the ball left, then right, juked one player, then another. She broke through the group of defenders, to the gasping dismay of parents on the other side of the field, and raced full speed for the goal. No one could stop her. The group of ten-year-olds desperately chased her down the field amid the excited shouts of nerve-racked parents.Oh my God! How did she do that? My own shout mixed in with everyone else’s as I clapped and hooted.Go, Jolene! Go! Go! Go! her coach shouted. Don’t hesitate! Take it all the way! Go, go, go! He bounded after her along the sideline.Damn it! Get ready, Colby! She’s coming! Stay on your toes! the opposing coach shouted.Take the shot! Take the shot, Jolene! You’ve got this!The goalie waited. He was a young, shaggy-haired blond boy with knees bent, legs quivering as he balanced on the balls of his feet to see which way the wind was going to blow. Sweating under the hot noon sun in the middle of a November heat wave, he could only watch as she drew back and blasted the ball. It flew low to the far corner. He dove for it. His gloved hands reached out to block.Missed it by a mile. The net stopped the ball.Hands cupped to my mouth, I shouted, Great job, number twelve! Way to get the job done!Piercing whistles, excited shouts, and clapping came from my side of the field while teammates high-fived the girl. Pink-cheeked and glowing with pride, a satisfied grin split her cheeks. She accepted back slaps and trotted back to join the lineup in the middle of the field for the next kick-off. It wasn’t to come. The ref blew the whistle signaling the end of the game, and the little girl’s team cheered, excited to have won.I’d want my little girl to be just like that. Just like that. The unbidden thought whispered wistfully across my mind once again, but I shook it away before it could cause any major damage. I wasn’t going to have kids, so it was pointless to ponder it. With a flush of self-consciousness, I glanced around, but no one was paying me any attention. I had to remind myself they couldn’t actually see me.Hey there, Tiger.Ahh. This was why I was here.I smiled at my hated childhood nickname and responded as I was expected to. I spun around, gave him a good shove. Jerk. Don’t call me that.Carlos laughed, not the least bit rocked by my actions, probably because I hadn’t actually been trying to hurt him. He was my forever best friend, confidante, first and only boyfriend, best...everything, and had been since day one. He pulled me in for a quick squeeze, where I burrowed my face into my favorite spot on his chest, before he leaned back to look down at me, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. His black hair had a stubborn lock that liked to droop over his forehead. I brushed it back for him. He definitely had a Benjamin Bratt thing going on.He winked at me. The little girl reminds me of you.Me? I studied the little girl, who was grouping up with her teammates to do a 2-4-6-8 chant in appreciation of the other team.Carlos smiled. You were just like her at that age. Don’t you remember? Absolutely fearless.Fearless? I scoffed, but he wasn’t kidding.Seriously. Nothing kept you from trying whatever the hell you wanted to. Always confident, like you knew things were just supposed to work out for you. He paused. They usually did. You were a force to be reckoned with.You make me sound like a superhero.I’d meant it as a joke, but he furrowed his dark brows. You kind of were. You acted like nothing could stop you. It was always balls to the wall with you. I wanted to be like that. When we were growing up, you would piss me off and make me proud at the same time with the way you took risks. But of course, it always worked out and usually in a big way.I gave him my smirky eyeroll. I think you’re exaggerating.I don’t think I am. He shook his head for emphasis. You were always ready to not just win, but kick ass if anything got in your way.Where was he going with this? He was being so uncharacteristically insistent. I gave him a covert, assessing look, like I would a patient who seemed...off. He looked the same as usual—handsome, friendly, gentle—but still, his attitude took the edge off the warm memories we were sharing, and I felt my grin sliding as he continued.Don’t you remember? No one could keep up with you. You’d just get this look on your face, set your chin in a particular direction and anyone who got in your way would be toast. He pressed in a little, and I almost stepped back.But this was Carlos. My Carlos. I shook the strange feeling off and chuckled at his description of me, trying to just enjoy the feeling of contentedness, warmth and love that I always felt when he came to my dreams. I cocked my head coquettishly and smiled. You managed to keep up with me.By the skin of my teeth, and not even half the time. My ego suffered.But you handled it.He took a moment, studying my face. At the point when it started feeling weird again, his intense expression relaxed into a smile. The best I could. He tweaked a lock of my long, black hair. Calling you names and pulling your pigtails.We were on track again. You’re going way back in time.For some reason, I catch myself remembering lately. Times when we did our homework together. Times when we went riding our bikes around the neighborhood, scavenging whatever you were certain we needed for your next project or adventure. I remember calling you bruja.My look was pointed. What about froggie and...something else. Tom, short for tomboy. I didn’t appreciate that, as I recall. I nudged his arm.His laughter was immediate, filling the cold, sad places inside me with remembered warmth. I didn’t even mind when he shook his finger at me and announced, You deserved to be called froggie. I got in trouble because of you over that little episode. You told everyone it was my idea. My mom wouldn’t let me go out for a week after that stunt, and it was summer. Do you remember how much that sucked? You still owe me for that.I tried to look outraged, but couldn’t keep from giggling. But itwas your idea to make a lily pad garden in the backyard with that blue, plastic kiddy pool.Yeah, but my idea was to use make-believe frogs and grass and leaves from the yard. You were the one who insisted we walk over to Bailey Canyon and find actual lily pads and frogs.I was doing my part to make it authentic.He raised his eyebrows. Yeah, well, as I recall, the look on your mother’s face was one of authentic horror when the bucket tipped over on her beautiful hardwood floors and frogs were jumping everywhere.I snickered. Everyone was suddenly jumping after the frogs. My mom, your mom, my dad, me, you, the dogs...it was mad, chaos. Frogs everywhere. Even a few days later, we found frogs behind the furniture. Unfortunately, they were dead and resisted my valiant efforts to revive them, though I did, very appropriately, try CPR. I’d forgotten about that.See? Like I’d proven his point. All of us moving to the beat of your drum. You were hardcore, this little girl with a larger-than-life point of view. Keeping up with you was a full-time job. You’re the only girl I ever let give me a black eye.I shot him a snarky look. You didn’t “let” me do anything. I was tougher than you.That new, thoughtful expression, the one I was starting to dislike, reemerged. Was it something I’d said? He searched my face for a quiet moment, then nodded, like he’d suddenly realized something.You’ve always been tough. You never needed...anyone. Not even me. You were sure of yourself. You helped me find that for myself. I want you to know I appreciate that.I didn’t need him? Where was this coming from? It almost sounded like a goodbye. Silly. Where would he go? I brushed a prickle of fear away and managed a smirk. Good.No really. I mean it.The kids lined up on the field so they could shake hands with the opposing team.He held out his hand. Walk with me?Always. I clasped his hand and made the promise with a warm smile. It’s been too long. I’ve missed you so much. There was no one in my life who could take his place. Certainly not any of the guys I’d tried dating. Being on my own, having my medical career and these visits from Carlos, this was the best I could expect now. You used to come more often, and we could spend time together. Now you only come every other month or so, if that, and our time seems so much more limited. You barely give me the news that someone needs help, and then you’re gone. Why not more often?He frowned for a moment, then squeezed my fingers gently. How are things?I let it go. It wasn’t the time to push this. I never knew when he was going to get pulled away from me. So much has happened between the times when we meet that I can’t remember where I left off last time. My family is good. Your family is good.How are the wicked seven?I laughed at his description of my cousins. We’d all grown up together, more like siblings. We were all black-haired with the same shade of green eyes, inherited from our mothers and grandmother. This was where bruja had come from. Witch. When we were kids, Carlos had insisted that anyone with black hair and green eyes was a wicked witch, and he’d teased me with that unmercifully for years.Everyone seems happy and satisfied within their own predictably dysfunctional world. Stephanie is close to being married, Cassie is likely on her way to her deathbed—according to her own self-diagnosis using WebsmartMD—and Amanda’s finished her credentialing to teach. She’s looking for a job now. Oh! Your brother went off to complete a sabbatical in some distant corner of the world where he could study the customs of some obscure native tribes. Not sure of the details. Your mom told me the last time I saw her, which was last week, I think, when we ran into each other at the grocery store.His smile changed, sort of went heart deep and introspective. He looked down at the ground as though seeing the image within the square pattern blocks of cement. I’ve seen my brother. He’s happy. He’s going to be okay.Leaving the park, we walked companionably through a suburban neighborhood, the kind you’d find at the beginning of a Steven Spielberg movie, like E.T. or Poltergeist or something like that. Kids were out playing in the street, adults gardened in fashionably strange, floppy-looking hats, and there was a sense of safety and peacefulness. Of course, if this were a Spielberg movie, in the next scene, the shit would hit the fan.This was the nature of our relationship now. I never knew where we would end up when we dreamed together.Carlos leaned into me affectionately with a light shoulder-to-shoulder bump. How’s the doctoring?I love it. The energy of the trauma ward is like nothing else. It’s always go, go, go. Stay on your toes. Be alert. Take charge. Every day is something new. Someone comes in ready to die, and I can fix them, send them back to their loved ones. Every day, I can see the difference I make in the world. The feeling is amazing. Cars drove by, taking carloads of kids from the soccer field. A few days ago, I actually got to do a heart massage, which is unheard of in the ERYou had to pump a guy’s heart?His squinty-eyed wince said it all. There was a reason not everyone became a trauma surgeon. Carlos had never liked the sight of blood.Yes. It was an amazing moment, having someone’s heart in my hand and pumping it to keep them alive.The remembered excitement of that day had my blood surging with renewed adrenaline, and the story tumbled out. This guy was brought in, barely breathing, and he goes into arrest on my table. So I’m going through the checklist wondering what the hell is wrong with him, right? He looks young and healthy. There was no other sign of major trauma, abdomen was soft, so I could tell he wasn’t bleeding internally, and because he was turning blue, it had to be something with respiration.Remembering gave me that wired feeling again. Problem-solving at that level of intensity was the best kind of drug. I figured it must be some kind of pulmonary embolus, some kind of blockage between heart and lungs, which was the only thing making sense. We hit a point where even with heart compressions, we weren’t getting a pulse. By then, I’d called a cardiologist, and it was do-or-die. We decided we had to crack his chest and pump his heart manually, which got a pulse going long enough to get him to the OR, where he had an eight-hour surgery to remove some nasty blockage by his heart.When I finished, Carlos had a funny smile on his face.What? I asked. Did I lose you in there?No, I managed to follow.Why the smile?You’re living your dreams. I’m proud of you. You kick ass, Ceci. You always have. You’re going to be okay.Okay? I guess I was, but it seemed weird for him to say it, again like it was some kind of final proclamation. I could agree for the most part, that I was okay, living out some amazing career dreams. The silence stretched while I studied the handsome face I’d memorized long ago. It was a reminder some things were never going to happen. Not all of my dreams will be lived.He shook his head before I could even finish my sentence. I wasn’t a dream. I get that now. We were just kids, Ceci. You have to know that.What was this about? We had plans, Carlos, remember?He shook his head impatiently. We made childish plans. What were you, sixteen? Seventeen?They weren’t childish to me! I was counting on them. I worked my ass off to finish school early so we could go to college together. Remember? Get our degrees, get married... We’d talked about places we were going to visit together, things we wanted to do in life. Take time to travel, maybe go to Costa Rica.His look turned stubborn. If you want to go to Costa Rica, you should go.That was our plan! My irritation was turning to fear. We were going to be all bohemian, remember? You and me. Together. Why in the hell would I want to do that now?He took a deep breath, but his eyes never left mine. You were counting on life happening. So was I. We don’t always get what we want.I know it. Every day of my life I know it. I live it! My voice was rising, but I couldn’t help it. The horror of that day came back—the screams, the terror, the sobbing, the sound of the ambulance, the helplessness I swore I would never feel again, the blood so thick and warm, tacky, coating my hands, soaking into my jeans in that deep, deep red arterial color, the color of a deep bleed. There was nothing I could do, and all because of a stupid argument... My eyes burned with shame, but I fought back the moisture. Too hard to think about it.That was the worst day of my life. I’ll never forget.You aren’t the only one that lost on that day. A surge of anger flared in his dark brown eyes. It faded quickly, but this time I knew I’d seen it.What? What was that for?What? He looked off toward the mountains with a neutral expression, not making eye contact.The look on your face.What look?Cut it out. You know what I’m talking about. Stop playing dumb.For the first time ever, I felt a crack in the connection I shared with him. There was distance between us, like he was closed off to me. Like he was pulling away.He tried giving me a quick smile, but it wasn’t a real one. I knew what his real smiles looked like, each kind he gave. This one didn’t touch his eyes at all. He gave my hand another quick squeeze and let out a sigh. I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.Yeah, you do. I couldn’t help the sullen tone of my voice. That was a blow-off response if I’d ever heard one.I’m here for a reason, remember? I don’t get much time to do what I need to do. I’ve got something to show you.I know, I know. It’s always all business now.Something was very wrong. There had never been a time when he hadn’t shared what was on his mind. It got my back up and the stubborn child inside of me decided to pout. If he didn’t want to tell me, then I didn’t want to know. He could sit and stew with it. Jerk. Except who knew when I’d see him again?Yeah, fine. Show me. We’d turned a corner and hit a more rundown neighborhood. The houses had bars on the windows, grass grew in the cracked sidewalks, and fewer kids were out. A feeling of oppression seemed to cast a dark shadow over this neighborhood. It was enough to make me want to back the hell out and find that nice Spielberg neighborhood again.Look. He gestured to the house in front of us. Somehow, it was even worse than the rest on the block. It was a puke green with falling-down shutters on the front window, a broken screen door that yawned crookedly, and grass so overgrown someone could hide a body in it. It was on a corner, slightly separated from the other homes.Carlos turned his soulful eyes on me, and I knew it was going to be bad.Tell me. I braced myself.She lives here. Our little soccer player.Irritation with Carlos forgotten, I looked back at the house. No way was that little girl on her way to pizza.A woman’s scream split the air. A crash. A man’s voice yelling. Another crash. The sounds of violence erupted so suddenly my heart jump-started. A child’s cry bled through the walls punctuated with, No, no! Leave her alone! Don’t touch my mommy! No!This was a nightmare. I looked to Carlos. What the hell?There’s nothing you can do. They can’t see us.The hell there isn’t. I sensed the girl’s desperation and felt a rush of panic. I tried to push through the gate, but I couldn’t grasp it. I had no substance. A frustrated growl came from my throat. I couldn’t even kick that damn fence.Soon. He caught my arm and held my gaze.Sudden intuition made me pause. She’ll be coming in?Yes.That can only be bad. There was another sound of crashing, and then quiet weeping punctuated by low moans. To stand there and hear the ugliness was painful.It’ll be bad, but you’ll take good care of her. The intensity was back on his face. And one day, she’s going to want to be a doctor just like you.I accepted that responsibility with joy in my heart. Part of the girls-kick-ass club. Good.What was she going to look like when she came in?The worry fled as soon as it arrived. Carlos was fading on me, about to become one with the ether. He pulled me in for one more tight hug, and the pain of separation hit me as it always did when the blackness smothered us and pulled us apart.Traveling back through the layers of consciousness, I wondered when I would be able to dream him again. The feel of him faded until I was alone, waking up with the early morning gray and a sense of loss that was always a part of me.

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 in Claremont with her biggest fans, her loving husband, amazing and wonderful identical twin sons, and a teddy bear of a Rottweiler.
Her debut novel, Quicksilver Dreams, Book 1 of the Dreamwalker series, was released January 6, 2014, and Dreams of a Dark Summer, Book 2 of the Dreamwalker series, is set for release June 9, 2014. The  next book in the Dreamwalker series is set to come out in December, 2014.
www.facebook.com/Writer.D.Adele

www.danubeadele.wordpress.com
www.twitter.com/DanubeAdele
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www.goodreads.com/author/show/7340150.Danube_Adele

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Christmas Guest Blog and Giveaway: How Elves Celebrate Christmas

How Elves Celebrate ChristmasDecember 25th, 2014
The Elves from the realm that Lily traveled to are just now experiencing Christmas for the first time. Typically they celebrate Yule or the Dark Days, as do their Fairy and Dwarven cousins. The Elves are a very generous people who enjoy a reason to celebrate with family and friends, so it didn’t take much for the holiday to catch on when the new princess introduced it.
So how did it go? Prince Maerryn took a group of castle guards to find a tree large enough for the great hall. Tallyn stayed behind to keep an eye on Lily, who has a tendency to overdo things. Their Christmas started with a large breakfast, then everyone in the castle exchanged gifts around the tree in the main hall. In a grand gesture King Naelym provided gifts of appreciation to his entire castle staff.
Meanwhile, at the North Pole the Dwarven Kringle family, which has overseen Christmas and the entire Holiday season for countless generations, is enjoying a 48-hour party. 
Markus, who is the reigning Santa Claus, leaves to deliver presents when the first time zone in the Human realm hits 9PM Christmas Eve. He will then travel across all time zones delivering presents into the wee hours of Christmas morning before returning home. The celebration begins when Markus leaves and ends at 9AM on December 26th.
Much of the North Pole staff are volunteer and come to help out from October to the New Year. For the staff that is paid and full-time, the first of 2 yearly vacations begin. This one runs from Christmas Eve to the first Monday after New Year’s. The other is 2 weeks long at the beginning of July. 
This year Justin Kringle, the COO of the North Pole, has extra to celebrate what with his new fiancé. The entire Pole is in an uproar preparing for an amazing engagement party to take place on New Year’s Eve. (You can read more about this December 31st on Isabelle’s blog elvenlife.com!) Joy Kringle is Facebook plotting on how to get an entire Werewolf clan to the North Pole for New Year’s.

To all our visitors today and all my readers, I hope you enjoy my newest books and I hope you have a very Happy Christmas!   

Practical Uses for Princes with Pointed EarsOtherworld RealmsBook 1Isabelle Saint-Michael
Genre: Paranormal Romance/ Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Otherworld Romance, LLC
Date of Publication: November 14, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-9908665-0-3Paperback  978-0-9908665-1-0ASIN:
Number of pages: 380Word Count: 95,000
Cover Artist: CL Smith
Book Description:
Lillian Chambers was just an ordinary high school teacher, until she fell through a Fairy Circle. When she came to on the other side, she was surprised to find herself in the company of an Elven prince she thought only existed in her dreams. Now she’s slaying monsters and rescuing Prince Tallyn, instead of playing the part of the damsel in distress.
Tallyn had been the protector of his kingdom for over one hundred years. He knows that the world is filled with danger around every corner, but these days he’s finding himself babysitting the annoyingly fearless Lady Lillian.
When their worlds collide sparks fly, humorous situations ensue and the only thing for sure is that neither will ever be the same. Practical Uses for Princes with Pointed Ears takes readers on an adventure into a modern fairytale where we explore what it really means to fall for Prince Not-so-Charming.
Available at Amazon
Excerpt Practical Uses for Princes with Pointed Ears
My dreams were more vivid than usual. It was like I was standing there with my favorite imaginary hunk. He and several others were packing up horses. There was a great deal of laughter and teasing among the men. They poked at each other until finally he had to step in and tell them to calm down. Even as he reprimanded them his smile shone brightly. I had never seen him smile with such a youthful presence. Moments later another man appeared, just as handsome as my dream guy. “Tallyn!” he called, and my heart skipped a beat as I watched the man of my dreams turn to wave.“Tallyn,” I could feel myself whispering. He turned and looked in my direction, as if he had heard me. His face fell a little when he couldn’t see me standing there.“What’s wrong?” the taller man asked him.I watched as Tallyn shrugged. “I was just thinking about how I was going to have to see your face every morning for the next few days and it quashed all the fun out of our camping trip.”The taller man laughed, only to turn when someone called, "Maerryn!" which I guessed was his name.I could feel the cool breeze on my skin, causing the hair on my arms to stand up. I watched with interest as the men finished packing up and began to ride away. I followed them through the forest I had seen a hundred times in my dreams. After a few hours they crossed the river in a shallow area then headed up a steep cliff, guiding their horses one at a time along the narrow ledge.By midday the group reached the top of the cliff and stopped for lunch. The food smelled amazing cooked over the open fire. I felt my stomach rumble. When it did, Tallyn placed a hand on his stomach and looked around with confusion.He was beautiful to look at, even with uncertainty creasing his brow. His green eyes deepened in color and his breath stilled. It was like he was looking right at me but couldn’t see me. With a shake of his head, he rejoined the conversation around him.They packed up and left, heading across a path at the top of the cliff that led into another forest. The group seemed more hesitant when they entered the new area. They rode close together for hours, and when darkness finally threatened, they found flat ground and made camp. The horses were tied up, dinner was caught and prepared, and then the wine came out. Boys will be boys, I thought to myself as they laughed, sang and passed around the bottles.Behind me I heard the crack of twigs underfoot. Suddenly, I sensed someone else was there. I turned, looking in the direction of the sound, and I saw shadows moving through the woods towards the encampment. Panic filled me and I tried to scream, but I was just a watcher without a voice.




Holiday Spirit for HireOtherworld RealmsBook TwoIsabelle Saint-Michael
Genre: Holiday/ Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Otherworld Romance, LLC
Date of Publication: November 14th, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-9908665-2-7Paperback 978-0-9908665-3-4
Number of pages:164 Word Count:41,000
Cover Artist: CL Smith
Book Description:
When life handed half-werewolf Grace MacGregor a pink slip four weeks before Christmas, she was determined to get back to work as soon as possible. She just didn’t expect it to be the very next day – or at the North Pole.  She now has four weeks to make other people’s holiday wishes come true, but will she be able to grant her own while she is at it?
Justin Kringle is the nephew of Santa Claus and his job is to keep operations of the Pole on point. When Grace is dropped bed and all into his work shop, he can’t decide if it’s love or hate at first sight. First impression: she’s a total mess. Can he keep her on track and remember to not mix business and pleasure?
Available at Amazon
Excerpt Holiday Spirit for Hire
I settled into bed with my favorite boyfriend, my laptop. Before long I had updated my resume, applied for a half dozen jobs, checked flights home, and Facebooked with all of my friends to see if anyone had any leads. I was about to shut down when the pop from my email caught my attention.      I closed the other tabs and stared at my inbox. It was from the OAC. The Otherworld Alignment Council was a group of magical beings, things that go bump in the night, and people that made sure that there were universal laws and regulations used across all the realms.  They made sure there was a common language, rules about magic, and laws that kept peace between the different races.  Why they were emailing me I didn’t know.
To: Grace MacGregorFrom: OACSubject:  The North Pole Needs You
Dear Ms. MacGregor,
It has been brought to the attention of the OAC that you are no longer employed during this busy time of the year.  Every Holiday season we rely on the help we get from the Otherworld community to make the season bright.  Your talents could be used now through the end of the year helping deliver joyful winter holidays across all the realms.
Please see the attached application. Applicants will be considered for a paid position.  Please send a resume, two letters of recommendation and magical aptitude test scores to the email listed below.  If chosen we will need you to report immediately for work.
Thank you and Happy Holidays,Otherworld Alignment Council
     I looked at the email again and shrugged.  “Why not?”  I asked myself.  I attached my resume, two recommendation letters and a quick note explaining my father was a Scottish Werewolf Clansman and that I was half human.  I figured my lack of magical abilities would keep me out of the fray.  My father told me to always answer the OAC right when they contacted you because they made the IRS look patient.      With a giggle to myself I closed the windows on my laptop and shut it down.  Snuggling deep into my pillows I closed my eyes, giggling about what use I could possibly be to the Great Holiday Front up North.  Strangely enough I fell asleep with thoughts of sugar plums dancing in my head
      I awoke the next morning to the sounds of clinking, clicking and power tools.  I opened my eyes involuntarily when a particularly loud noise sounded right over my head.  It was then I noticed my bedroom was swarming with Gnomes and they seemed too busy to care I was sleeping.      “Excuse me!” I yelled.  “Why are you in my bedroom?”     A few of them stopped, exchanged looks with shrugs, and returned to work.  I wasn’t answered until a man with a heavy red braid down his back appeared.      “You are in their workshop, and it’s about time you got up.”  I climbed out of bed angrily, prepared to demand that they leave.  “Nice pajamas,” he said with a grin as he looked me over.  “If you follow me we will get you assigned duties, uniforms and the rest of your paperwork filled out.”      I looked around what should have been my room.  I was on a toy factory floor.  Only it looked like FAO Schwarz met Ikea.  Bright colors with industrial-grade shelves mixed with the old world charm of hand-carved wooden trim.  All around me Gnomes were hustling to complete toys.  I looked in the direction the redheaded man had gone and chased after him, abandoning my bed to the factory. 





About the Author:
Isabelle Saint-Michael is a cupcake enthusiast, shoe addict, and globetrotter. She is known for her sense of adventure and geeky hobbies. She is frequently seen haunting coffee shops and pubs into the wee hours of the morning. No matter where she goes, shenanigans and mirth are never far behind.
The blog that started it all- www.Elvenlife.com
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/IsabelleStMichael
Twitter @IsabelleStMike or https://twitter.com/IsabelleStMike

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Santa Exposed by Kay Dee Royal

Santa ExposedOhhh…Santa Short StoriesKay Dee Royal
Genre: Contemporary Erotic RomanceHoliday, Christmas
Publisher: Muse It Up PublishingMuseItHOT imprint
Date of Publication: December 2, 2014
Number of pages:  Approx. 39Word Count:  10,600
Tagline: A wedding coordinator meets her match with a billionaire playboy posing as a Santa submissive.
Book Description:
Jade Randals, wedding coordinator specializing in Bridal needs, is coerced into attending the Santa Exposed Masked Ball at the Erotic Play Palace.
Landis Parkwell, billionaire and known playboy, thinks he’s found the perfect submissive in Jade.
But things go array as Dom and Sub roles switch, and a true Santa is exposed.




Excerpt 
Warning Adult Content
I was not excited about wearing a tight candy-cane striped gown, flourished at the bottom with a taffeta frill of mini jingling bells. The silly stilettoes had turned up toes, like an elf shoe with five-inch clear spikes filled with red metallic glitter. If I were to fall, which I could barely walk in the dress and had no idea how I’d pee wearing it, my body would remain on the ground like a dead woman. Then I thought about the deep plunging front and back. I needed adhesive to make it stay in place; my B-sized boobs weren’t big enough to keep the straps from sliding around.           Salina hired some professional body painters to come in and help everyone transform their faces and any exposed body parts to match their costumes. She looked stunning as a sparkling ice-cycle with a silvery skinny floor-length dress, similar to my red and white striped thing. She took it upon herself to pour flutes of champagne for everyone to enjoy while we played, which under normal circumstances would be my job.It didn’t take the painters long to get everyone polished up. There were four of them, three guys and a woman, and they worked together, fast and organized. Having four people touching different parts of my body at the same time was new to me, and I noted very arousing. Even if the guys preferred their own gender, their gentle touches sent goose bumps running rampant over my body. One suggested that I wear some little nipple pads as I wasn’t wearing any undergarments. I gasped when he tweaked my nipple to show how obvious it stood out through the fabric.
The girls standing around me had a good laugh at my shocked sound effects. They took turns tweaking each other’s nipples until the painters told them to stop or they’d scrape up the paint job, which made me laugh. 
About the Author:
Kay Dee Royal writes paranormal, fantasy, and contemporary erotic romance—maybe because they’re also her favorite genres to read! She pens tales with wild, rugged heroes and strong, intelligent heroines. She'll give them both a few shadowy secrets, making her stories intriguing and fun. She resides in Southern Michigan with her family (her dog, her cats, her caged husband... you get the idea).
You can find more about her books at Muse It Hothttp://museithotpublishing.com/index.php/our-authors/68-our-authors/authors-r/265-kay-dee-royal
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kaydee.royal
Twitter: http://twitter.com/kaydeeroyal
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5227617-kay-dee-royal
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Kay-Dee-Royal/e/B004T8WGEW/
Blogs: http://www.kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com

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Zombie Holiday Gifts with Ace Antonio Hall

Zombies and Gifts

Is your loved one planning to spend all day watching the Walking Dead marathon, or does he/she know every line from Night of the Living Dead? 
You may have a first class zombie enthusiast among you. If so, during the holiday season, or anytime, for that matter, you need to know what gifts out there are the dead-on best and coolest to buy for that lover of the undead shambling moaners.
Look no further, Ace Antonio Hall, author of the must-buy zombie novel, Confessions of Sylva Slasher, has some pretty brainy choices. 
Take a bite out of his top ten gifts to buy for a Zombie Fan:
The Walking Dead: Daryl mug 12.99zombie bowl 12.99zombie monopoly game 39.99Got Zombies? Sylva Slasher shirt by American Apparel 23.20zombie backpack by Leeds 29.99zombie hand bottle opener 14.95The Walking Dead zombie letter opener 71.99Zombie Clock 23.95 and upZombie Speakers 21.95 and upZombie Zoe Board Skateboard Deck 173.95

Click on the link to go to check out item you like!

Confessions of Sylva SlasherA Zombie NovelAce Antonio Hall
Publisher:  Montag Press, April 2013Genre: YA Horror
Book Description:
THE LOVE OF HER LIFE BECOMES THE DEATH OF THEIR LOVE
Sylva Fleischer is a teenager who works as a necromancer for a living. Wanting to get away from raising the dead for police investigations and demanding grieving families for a while, she goes on a cruise for spring break. Her vacation from the dead is short-lived when passengers on the ship turn into flesh-eating zombies. These are not the same simple-minded harmless zombies she raises and can control, so Sylva and her friends are trapped on the Pacific Ocean. Their only escape comes from a guy Sylva thought was dead: Brandon. It just so happens to also be the anniversary of his death, and she's still hurting from his loss!
Why didn't he call to say he's alive? All those tears … for nothing.
Sylva doesn't normally hold grudges, but when someone plays with her heart they have to pay. However, with the fate of the human race on the line, Brandon convinces Sylva to join him in a secret mission, yet she can't shake the feeling that he's hiding something.
It didn't take long for her suspicions to hold true when it's revealed that Brandon has been romantically involved with the very enemy he now wants her to destroy. To top that brutal betrayal, the villainous female would rather kill Brandon than let Sylva have a chance to patch things up between them. Sylva is not the kind of girl to walk away from love without a fight, but with a strange virus threatening extinction of human life, she shoves her own feelings in her back pocket to face her greatest nightmare, and that nightmare starts with something that is eerily growing right inside of her own mind and body.
When The Heart Bleeds, Sometimes Your Friends Are All You've Got
Available at Amazon

 Praise for Ace Antonio Hall and Confessions of Sylva Slasher
“A treat for Buffy fans—but 100% Ace Antonio Hall's own twisted vision. Breathes new life into the living dead; run, don't shamble to get a copy.”—Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo and Nebula Award-winning author of the WWW trilogy
“In a vast sea of zombie tales, Hall's tale is more than a cut above. He brings the entire genre to heel and treats us to one Hell of a ride.”—Art Holcomb, writer of Professor Xavier and  the X-Men vs. The Avengers, Marvel Comics


Excerpt Chapters 1 and 2
PART ONE SILVER KISSES
For since death came through a man,the resurrection of the deadcomes also through a man.— I Corinthians 15:21
Chapter 1
YEAH, THE WHOLE STINKING PLANET WANTED ME DEAD, and they got their wish. I tried to move but couldn’t. Not with a broken back. Breathing slow, uneven, I stared into the undead woman’s eyes that dripped an ominous glare down onto my helpless body.
Maybe if I hadn’t gotten dreamy eyes for this really cute guy (I mean jerk), the weight of the human race wouldn’t be sitting on my shoulders. I would’ve easily given my life so my best friend, Emily, wouldn’t die. Too late.
The full moon draped around the undead woman’s shadow that climbed up my broken body like ghosts of death. The island soil, thirsty for moisture, welcomed my blood. Terror wrestled me into a stone cold chokehold—I forgot how to scream. The scent of rotten corpses gripped my nostrils. A horde of the walking dead moaned and hovered over me like starved coyotes as the undead woman crept forward on all fours to kill me, again.

Chapter 2
Several hours prior:
I HATED THAT I COULDN’T TELL REALITY FROM MY NIGHTMARES. Maybe, just maybe I spent one too many nights raising the dead. My parents named me Sylva Fleischer, but most people knew me as Sylva Slasher (I’ll get to why later). I made a pretty cool living as a necromancer for The Silver Kisses Aerial Ash Scattering Company. We raised zombies for mourners to say their last goodbyes. A lot of times we did it for police investigations, occasionally for corporate disputes, and then we cremated the deadheads and scattered the remains over Hawaii’s beautiful waters. As a matter-of-fact, some guy from the military base in Honolulu kept leaving messages on my cell phone that he wanted me to raise some dead soldier for a case they were investigating. But I had other plans. Look, I just turned eighteen, so if I wanted to ditch some lame colonel for something way more hella-fun, I would. What? Can’t a girl have priorities?
Twilight peeked over my shoulders as I looked for my friends while aboard the Sea Queen a.k.a. The Ship of a Thousand Corpses—the best freaking zombie-themed cruise in America. Imagine being in one of those magnificent hotels in Las Vegas during spring break; the golden elevators, escalators, walkover bridges, restaurants, and stores, filled with tons of thrill-seeking college kids and adults. You could call the Sea Queen one of the world’s best luxury hotels but on water.
A woman hired me to do a raising on the ship. Emily, and her boyfriend, Beckham, or Flip as he liked to be called (Hawaiian-born and Japanese-descended like Em), were going to help me. After I finally got dressed, I saw Emily’s wacky picture that she posted on Facebook and her bitchy complaint that she and Flip were waiting on me (I’m always fashionably late) in the bar on the Nightwalker Deck. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a clue where to go. The captain was escorting me up, but some kind of urgent call came in and he dashed out of the elevator speaking radio codes into his walkie-talkie.
One of my all-time fave videos, Sweet Dreams, played on the inside of the elevator doors via a hi-tech projector system. I loved it that I could watch a music video (albeit, one I’ve seen a kazillion times) inside of the elevator. A volume control knob sat beneath the red emergency button. Marilyn Manson crawled out of the rundown fireplace wearing black boots, a dirty tutu, and a torn bodice that showed off his skeletal bare chest. Alright, that’s enough. I turned the sound down so I could briefly gather my thoughts for the raising.
The elevator doors eased open. I stepped out, immediately folding my arms and shivering. I wore a black mid-riff tee shirt, tight leather pants, and some five-and-a-half inch knee-high Gothic boots. I sighed, berating myself for not wearing a warmer top. The ship’s fake fog blanketed the air so I could barely see anything. Already late, I didn’t want to waste any more time so I stopped to ask a person dressed like a zombie nun for directions. She sat on the bench in front of the ship’s THEATRE UNDER THE STARS, rocking back and forth. A broken dog leash dangled in her hand. The closer I got, the more I realized her hunched feeble posture.
“Lady, are you okay?” I asked.
She didn’t answer but kept rocking. Her abrupt movements made her wimple flap around her neck and chin. I glanced up at the speaker mounted on the wall above us, creeped out by the spooky organ music streaming out into the foggy air.
The lady made a gurgling sound.
“Miss, hey? Are you okay?”
Her head lifted slowly. The yellow rays from the moon crept into the shadows under her headdress. I stepped forward slowly, swallowing unease.
A name spilled out of my mouth, slow, whispered. “Malena?”
I remembered admiring the blind woman’s seeing eye dog when we embarked the ship. I couldn’t resist petting her wolfdog. Emily and Flip were so occupied looking for their tickets that they didn’t even see Malena and her dog.
She made another gurgling sound. I took a step back, peering into her cloudy-white eyes.
“Um, okay, I get it,” I said. “You were hired by the ship to scare people. Right?”
I swayed a little to the left as the ship went over choppy waters. The blind woman stared past me with a vacant stare, and then her head rolled over to her right shoulder.
“Hey—hey—hey. You’re not okay,” I said, extending my arm, ready to catch her if she fell off of the bench.
Was she having a seizure?
Malena muttered something. Saliva ran down her mouth and dripped down her chalky white face.
“Are you having a allergic reaction?” I glanced to my right, then left. “Maybe I should get the ship’s doctor.”
Her body started to convulse and she dropped the dog’s leash on the deck’s floor. She moaned, curling up into a ball on the bench.
“Okay—okay—okay, I’m going to get help,” I said, taking a quick step toward the stairs. “But, uh, shoot, I don’t want to leave you alone.”
A sign directly above her read nightwalker deck maze; another, near the elevator lifts, pointed to the bathrooms. Someone had to be coming by, any second. Another gurgling noise came from the blind woman. She coughed and blood spurted out of her mouth. I shielded my eyes with the back of my hand and something wet splattered on my forearm.
“Oh, my God, Malena! You’re, you’re hemorrhaging.”
I wiped her blood off my arms, onto the side of my top and pulled out my iPhone to call 911. No reception.
“Somebody, help. Call 911!”
I heard someone giggling and saw shadows approaching me through the fog. Two Asian girls, maybe in their late teens, dressed in shredded jeans and pink tee shirts passed behind me.
I gestured to them. “Can I use either one of your phones to call 911? This lady is totally sick!”
“Nice try,” one of them said, revealing the braces on her teeth. “But you only try to scare us.”
“No, please, really. Are you getting reception out here? I’m not getting reception.”
They laughed and pointed at the bench. “Maybe she pull your leg,” the same girl said.
I turned around and glared at an empty bench.
Where did she go?
The girls giggled and walked toward the bathroom, shaking their heads.
“What a moron,” the other one said.
“Miss? Miss, where are you?” I called out, a little irritated by those stupid girls who didn’t believe me. I looked toward the bridge then back at the girls. “Where did she go?” They ignored me and went into the bathroom. Seriously?
“Maybe I am a moron,” I said, under my breath. There were a few droplets of blood on the bench, but I couldn’t find a trail showing me which way she went. She could’ve only gone but so many places—the elevator lift, the stairs, across the bridge (which she didn’t because I would have seen her), overboard, or into the Nightwalker Deck Maze.
If that old, blind lady thought I was going to play her game and follow her into the maze, she had another thing coming. Whatever. Time to do this raising and then try to have some fun for a change.
I took one step and the thought of Malena sent a chill creeping down the nape of my neck. Where did she go? Aw, Who cares? I shook it off, folded my arms, again, and walked toward a bridge that led to the highest deck on the ship.
Someone screamed. I turned quickly, and blew out a long breath as a wolf man in tattered clothes chased a screaming girl across the bridge and through a door. Music blared from out of the place and I knew that Emily and Flip would be in there. That must be the bar, Lipstick Zombies.
I walked over the bridge, glancing back every few seconds for Malena. The instant I crossed halfway over, I heard the music thumping behind the bar’s door. When I saw the neon sign, I got a little excited. Maybe with a little partying, I thought, I’d feel better and forget about everything that sucked in my life—for a while.


About the Author:
Ace Antonio Hall is an actor, former music producer, and ‘retired’ educator with accolades as a Director of Education for the Sylvan Learning Center and nearly fifteen years experience as an award-winning NYC English teacher. He has a BFA degree with a concentration in screenwriting and has published poetry, short stories and fiction in magazines, anthologies, newspapers and novels.
Inspired by his father, Chris Acemandese Hall, who penned the lyrics to the Miles Davis jazz classic, “So What”, sung by Eddie Jefferson, and his sister, Carol Lynn Brown, who guest starred in the 1970’s film, “Velvet Smooth”, Ace spawned his creativity into developing the beloved but flawed teen character, Sylva Slasher.
Ace was the Vice President of the Greater Los Angeles Writers Society (2009-2011), and continues to head the Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror (ScHoFan) Critique Group as Co-Director of critique groups within the society. He is also a member of LASFS and the International Thriller Writers.
On April 14, 2013, Montag Press published his YA zombie novel Confessions of Sylva Slasher. His next release, Skateboard Xombies, is coming out later this year, and he has already begun working on Skateboard Xamurai for the third installment in his Sylva Slasher series.
Amazon AuthorPage | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Website | Blog | Instagram
Looking for some zombie gear? Check out Ace’s Zombie Pop Shop!

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Guest Blog and Giveaway The Agency: In the Defendant's Chair by Lynn Yvonne Moon

Fun Facts About Lynn and In the Defendant's Chair:

Alternate Ending - In my original manuscript, I had the main characters torture one of the men behind the plot. But the publisher didn't think it was true to life, thus it was deleted.
The Story Behind the Story  - I came across an article on human-hybrids. The idea scares me to death. I researched the subject and what I discovered, frightened me more. This subject is something everyone should know about.

5 Facts about My Book That Might Surprise You
1.       The scientific data in the novel is real2.       The idea of sitting in a defendant chair is one of my hidden fears3.       I consulted a real lawyer to help me make the book more real4.       The Philips Institute is a backer of the Skull & Crossbones Society at Yale5.       This novel took 3 1/2 years to write.
Authors That Have Inspired Me  - Piers Anthony, the author of the Xanth series and Stephenie Meyer with the Twilight series both encouraged me to write.
My Favorite Book of all Time  - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is my all time favorite.

My Top 10 Favorite Fictional Book Characters of All Time
1.       Maddie Edwards - The Agency Series2.       Bell - Twilight Series3.       Edward - Twilight Series4.       Harry Potter - Harry Potter Series5.       Ayla - Clan of the Cave Bears6.       Magician Humphrey - Xanth Series7.       Haymitch - Hunger Games8.       Katniss - Hunger Games9.       Nancy Drew - Nancy Drew series10.     Frodo - Lord of the Rings
An Introduction to character  Early Sutton  - She is a mother of three (a boy and twin girls). Early, a stay at home mom, loves to paint and dance. Her days are filled with every day chores of cleaning and cooking. Early paints when her children attend school. Her husband is a research scientist. There are times when she travels with him, but mostly she stays home with the children.
Tips for novice writers  - First, read and read some more. You can never read enough. Then write. Write until you fall asleep at your computer. Do not listen to everyone who gives you advice. I've heard it all. But what it comes down to is what your readers love.
Things I Love to Hear My Readers Say  - When is your next novel coming out? Where can I hear you talk live? Where do you get your stories from? 






The Agency: In the Defendant's ChairThe Agency SeriesBook FourLynn Yvonne Moon
Genre: Fiction - Mystery
Publisher: Koehler Books
Date of Publication: November 2014
ISBN:          978-1-63393-036-0 ebookISBN: 978-1-94019-282-6 printASIN: B00OMVWLMI
Number of pages:  310
Cover Artist: Koehler Books
Book Description:
Her last memory before falling asleep is the love she feels for her husband and kids. Then she wakes up, confused, dizzy, and sick, and realizes where she is; a courtroom. This is the nightmare and reality of Early Sutton and other women like her across America.
Carrie Clark and Maddie Edwards reunite with The Agency to solve the mysterious murders that are plaguing America. They risk their lives as they travel from coast to coast gathering clues and piecing together a strange puzzle where the pieces don’t seem to fit. In The Defendant’s Chair examines the inner working of our US Government and a secret society as they manipulate the human genome in evil seclusion. In a race against time to save the human race, the women must contemplate both the ethical and moral issues of genetic tampering.
Available at Amazon

PROLOGUE

The storm raged against the icy rain falling ruthlessly from the cold and dark clouds. Frozen pellets bounced off the windows as loud howling cries of unforgiving wind echoed through the house. The small wooden frame vibrated with each angry gust.

“It’s going to be an ugly night,” Alex commented picking up the small child’s jacket from the back of the sofa. He dropped the miniature item onto the coat rack and smiled at his wife who stood at the kitchen door, arms folded against her chest. A loud bang exploded and she jumped as an eerie chill ran up her spine.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Probably just a branch from an old tree,” he replied glancing out the window. “I’m sure I’ll have a mess to clean up tomorrow.”

“Well, since it’s nasty outside,” Early said taunting him with her swaying hips. “I’ll get your fire going if you start a real one. I’m going to check on the kids.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbled. “You have a deal.”

Early ran her fingers through her fine golden brown hair and grinned. There was nothing better than making love by a warm fire on a cold winter’s night. The wind continued to howl with such force the house trembled with each freezing wave.

I love winter, she thought walking down the hallway.

Early turned twenty-seven a week ago, a young woman just entering her prime. It felt cozy as her bare feet hit the soft hallway carpet. She could only think of her anxiously awaiting husband in the other room.

Early opened Daren’s door first and prayed the child was asleep. Daren’s a healthy, rambunctious seven-year-old who would rather have his teeth pulled than go to bed. As she approached him, Early had to laugh. Daren was on his back with his head on the floor and his butt and legs on his bed, sound asleep.

“Oh my,” Early sighed as she lifted him back into his bed. She covered him and kissed his forehead. Before leaving, she whispered, “I love you baby.”

After Daren it was time to check on the twins, Nevada and Dakota, beautiful three-year- olds she devoted her life to. She tiptoed into their room and could not help but smile. As usual, they were not in their beds but curled up together on the floor between layers upon layers of blankets and pillows.
“Well,” she whispered with a twinkle in her eye, “I’m sure glad I bought those heavy- duty pajamas.” Leaving them to their slumber, she closed their door.

Early began to undress in the hallway. By the time she reached the living room, her bare skin tingled from the cool air.

“Wonderful,” Alex stated not removing his eyes from his striking wife of nine years.

She swayed into his arms. After a long and wanting kiss, Early stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt. Alex handed her a glass of wine as he took a small sip of his, she followed his moves and took several small drinks. He kissed her sitting both glasses on the mantel. He touched and caressed her body, his fingers reaching every place he could find to excite her. They dropped to the floor, their legs entwined. Each slowly becoming more a part of the other as their thoughts and desires merged.
Early slid down between Alex’s legs and his desire swelled. She engulfed his warmth with slow rhythmic movement. She could tell he wanted to explode between her lips. But before he could reach his limit, Early withdrew and gazed up at him. She smiled and he smiled back with a tear in his eye.


“Tell me what you want baby,” he begged. “You want to ride?”

Without responding, Early straddled his waist and slowly guided him into her. He reached up and fondled her firm breasts and excited nipples. As the movement of her thighs and hips increased, his fingers squeezed more firmly against her. She pulled him in deeper rubbing her secret place against his as fast and hard as her hip muscles would allow. Early felt a sudden release of love and longing as she squeezed against his hardened love. Her back arched and she moaned. Alex was next. He exploded inside her as his hands gripped her hips in the heat of the excitement. He moved her back and forth until his strength was gone.

She fell with exhaustion onto his chest and absorbed his love. The rise and fall of his breathing filled her with devotion. Early raised her head until their breaths met. As he exhaled, she inhaled. They were now one with each other.

“I love you, Alex,” Early whispered into his rising and lowering chest.

Gasping for another breath, Alex whispered, “I love you, baby, and don’t you ever forget it.”

They lay together as one until sleep engulfed them. Early slept peacefully next to her husband. She loved him more than life itself; there was nothing Early would not do for him. That night, Early’s dreams were peaceful and serene. She was happy with her life, the only life Early knew.

About the Author:
Lynn Yvonne Moon is the author of the successful Agency Series, which deals with the implications of unlimited government power and money. She has worked for state and federal government since the 1990’s and uses her extensive personal experiences to captivate her audience with realistic stories of political corruption and black Government espionage.
Her first novel, When Souls Collide, introduces the reader to the ultimate power of The Agency. The second novel, What Rings True, awakens The Agency to the ramifications of never-ending political power. Dysfunctional Bloodline traces the steps of a family serial killer out for revenge. Lynn graduated from Troy State University where she earned a Masters Degree in Government. She currently works for the Commonwealth of Virginia and resides in Virginia Beach, Virginia.
http://www.lynnyvonnemoon.com/
https://www.facebook.com/#!/LynnYvonneMoon
@LynnYvonneMoon
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4387014.Lynn_Yvonne_Moon




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