Young's Blog, page 18
April 6, 2017
Timing Is Everything: Origin Of The Journal by Sybil Shae
Introducing a new Spicy Romance novella,
Timing Is Everything: Origin Of The Journal
by Sybil Shae
My Title: He sighed with the weight of a world war taken off his shoulders...New Release from @SybilShae! #Romance #TimeTravel #RPBP
My Labels: #NewRelease from @SybilShae! #Romance #TimeTravel #RPBP #eBook #Love #WorldWar #Ireland #Grand @RukiaPublishing
@SybilShae (https://www.twitter.com/SybilShae)
Available right now for 99 cents worldwide!
books2read.com/Timing-Is-Everything
Here's just a few things the Beta Readers had to say!
���OMG, I loved this book! As soon as I finished it I started reading it again. I even dreamt about it!���
���Loved it! Such a clever story. Can���t wait to read the next book in this new series!���
���Well written! Impressed with the way the story explores time travel and relationships���
���Sybil Shae is a genius! This story is well thought out and loaded. BRAVO!���
About The Book
A young woman is given a gift from her grandmother that turns out to be much more than what it appears to be.
Is your past, really your past at all?
Fall in love all over again with "Timing Is Everything-Origin Of The Journal"
Excerpt
Chapter One
A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words; except, of course when it isn���t. Tom Collins, the top photographer for National Geographic last year made better than a million dollars. That averages out to about two thousand dollars per usable picture he took. Pierre Marcoullier over at Vogue brought in something comparable. These guys are artists and adventurers at the top of their field, but they���d be the first to tell you that the value in a picture has to do with a lot more than lighting and shadow and perspective. A photo of your dead grandfather at his eightieth birthday might not even make the local newspaper, but if it���s one of only a few photos that exist of the man because he was shy, then for your family it���s literally priceless. Likewise, some of the classic photos that we have of historical figures or events are of really poor quality, but because they record something that���s part of our collective history, Lincoln at Gettysburg, say, or the ���Tank Man��� at Tiananmen Square, they���re worth more than money can buy. Most photos, though, literally 99.9% of those ever taken are not worth anything on their own, either based on artistic merit or historical significance. But in the hands of the right marketer and designer, they���re solid gold.
That���s what I do���I deploy photographs for advertising purposes at a major Manhattan marketing firm. Most of the photos I wind up using are not taken by professionals, or at least no one more professional than might have taken your senior picture; they���re uploaded to PBase or Flickr or any of a couple hundred other image databases, and if they���re copyrighted then we pay twenty-five or fifty or a hundred bucks a pic. But then, with a little careful editing and some clever design work, that picture helps to make my clients millions. Of course, we do use some professional photographers, and if I can���t find just the right image after hours of looking I might commission a shoot or take a few shots myself, but most of what I do is look at what other people have done and imagine how it can be used for some purpose they could never have dreamed of when they did it.
That is, I suppose, why at Christmastime last year my grandma gave me the scrapbook. Now I know what you���re thinking and I was too, I���m about as far away from a scrapbooking grandmother as they come, but Grandma had something of the artist���s eye and the marketer���s spirit in her too���she���d designed the endcaps and window displays at Gimbel���s for years���and she understood, at least in principle, what it was I was trying to do. So, after the regular family gift exchange, and the obligatory large meal, while most everyone else was catching an afternoon nap, she called me into her bedroom.
���Kelly,��� she said, patting the bed beside her and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. ���I���ve got something else for you, but I didn���t want to do it in front of the rest of the family.���
I nodded my head and closed the door, then darted over to the bed with perhaps just a little too much glee.
���What is it, Gran?��� She���d done things like this before, but it was mostly concerning my quirky sense of fashion or what my painfully conventional mother had always called an ���artistic temperament���.
She held out a bundle wrapped in old butcher paper and tied up with twine. I looked at her skittishly and rolled my eyes but she just smirked and waved for me to open it up. Inside was, as I said, a scrapbook; well, I suppose it was something like a pre-scrapbook. It was a simple leather-bound journal, obviously with some age on it, and I could see from the way the pages bulged that there were photos pasted or clipped or taped inside. I looked at her again asking a question with my eyes, and she answered in kind, indicating I should open it up.
Inside the front page sat a single photo, centered more or less perfectly, and clearly pasted to the paper. It showed a simple little cottage which had clearly been built in two sections; the roof over one side appeared to be thatch, the other was corrugated iron. Standing out front were three young women: the eldest appeared to be about sixteen, while the others were probably fourteen and twelve. The younger girls were in plain dresses, probably homemade; one had a kerchief on her head, and the other had taken it off and tied it around her neck. Between the two, her arms around their shoulders was the eldest girl, looking very mature in a skirt-suit and hat, her hair stylishly done beneath and a prim little purse in one hand hanging off of the younger girl���s shoulder. Beneath was a caption which in neat, handwritten cursive simply read, ���Leaving Home, 1945��� and beneath it, ���Clifden, Co. Galway, Ireland���.
���That was the day I left home,��� she said. ���I actually added that one later, after your Aunt Mickaela sent the photo by post. International mail used to take ages back in those days.���
I nodded my head absently as I turned the page. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
There���s a famous picture of a sailor kissing a nurse out in front of Radio City Music Hall on V-J Day. It���s iconic and is shown in most World War II documentaries and such. Like a lot of the photos I mentioned before, it���s artistic value is questionable: the couple are slightly off-center, his hand is obscuring almost all of her face, it���s not clear if she���s really into it (she wasn���t as it turned out, but his enthusiasm was probably understandable); but it captured a moment in history unlike any other, and the enthusiasm on the sailor���s face is attractive to us still today, so it seems to work.
Sitting there, on the second page of my grandma���s old scrapbook was the Irish version of that same image. They were out in front of a Dunne���s Department Store, I thought I might���ve even recognized it from my trips back home with Gran. The man was wearing a British military uniform, but that wasn���t unusual given Irish neutrality during the war. The woman was not wearing a nurse���s uniform, but in fact the same skirt-suit as in the previous picture. And the most startling thing of all was not that she was kissing a man just back from the war, nor even that the man wasn���t may grandad (he had fought but was already living over here), but that she was doing the kissing.
���Gran!��� I cried out in a stage whisper. ���Who is this?���
She giggled to herself. ���I haven���t the foggiest idea! I didn���t at the time either. But when I arrived at the port at Cobh to take my passage to America, there was a ship arriving with soldiers left to help clean up in France after the war. Most had been gone for three or four years; many had families waiting for them, everyone was kissing, and I saw this poor fella all by his lonesome, and I figured he deserved at least as warm a homecoming as the rest.��� She flushed slightly.
I looked back and forth between her and the picture. ���But where did you get this one from? Surely your sisters didn���t send this too���
���Ah, Gawd no!��� She laughed to herself. ���No, I went off to Cobh by myself; mother said it would be easier that way. No, I found this in a back copy of the Irish Times they were using to wrap fish and chips at the AOH Hall where I met your Granddad.���
I laughed, beginning to flip through the book more generally. ���Hang on here, Gran,��� I said. ���The captions stop.���
Now the real grin came out. I knew when she got that twinkle in her eye that she was up to something, and she could barely suppress her delight.
���That���s the whole point. At first I was going to try and document my journey to America, how I made my life here, and how I built my family. But then, after I saw that picture in the old newspaper, I saw how my life could have been different. So I started collecting pictures that didn���t fit; any shot that showed a turning point or time where life went one way but could have gone another. And when your Granddad or the kids would drive me too nuts, or the work at Gimbel���s would just seem too much, I���d pull this out and indulge in a little fantasizing.���
���And what did Grandpa think of all this?���
She chuckled to herself. ���He never knew.���
I raised an eyebrow. ���Seriously?���
She bobbed her head like a doll on a dashboard. ���Absolutely. I kept no other secrets from your grandad. I was faithful to him for more than sixty years. But to keep the peace in our relationship I kept this scrapbook and every couple of months I���d pull this out and spend an afternoon just���imagining.���
I was moved, not only by the gift but by her trust in me. Impulsively I leaned forward and hugged her tight. She grunted slightly.
���Thank you, Gran.��� I let her go and sat back. I looked down at the book. ���What do you want me to do with it? Add my own pictures?���
Gran shook her head. ���Of course not. Do what you do?���
���What I do?���
���What is it you call it?��� She gave me that smirk again. ���Deploy the pictures?���
���You want me to use them in ads?���
���If you can make any money off of them, then they���ll have done us both some good. If not, at least use them as I did, to imagine���other things.��� Her voice lilted at the end and we laughed over it together.
I reached forward and hugged her again. This time, as we released, she leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
���I love you, Dearie.���
���I love you too, Gran.���
And that was the last time we ever spoke. She was dead by the New Year.
The Author
Sitting in a chair, at a desk with headphones on, typing away...
That���s where you���ll find Sybil Shae most days. She loses track of time and reality as she dives into her romance world, becoming one with her characters and growing with them as they appear through words on the tablet screen in concert with the imagery of a fool���s paradise we all visit in our dreams.
Sybil Shae writes romance, both spicy romance reads and clean reads. She feels it, breathes it, and has built her world around it. Love is at the center of all things.
Welcome to Sybil���s world.
Sybil Shae DOES NOT write Erotica by any means, even the Spicy parts aren't as spicy as most others on the market. She writes with Love as the central plot rather than adult content.
You can find out more about Sybil Shae by connecting with her on social media and visiting her website!
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/SybilShaeThe...
https://www.facebook.com/SybilShae/
Twitter:
@SybilShae (https://www.twitter.com/SybilShae)
Website:
http://sybilshaeromance.weebly.com/
Send her an email, she will answer, she loves to talk to her fans! Even if you aren't a fan, she loves to interact. Email: SybilShaeRomance@mail.com
Join Sybil Shae's Newsletter for up to date information on her books: http://eepurl.com/cvHPif
Also Available
Make Time For Love
A collection of 9 Steamy Romances Across Time in this Multi-Author Boxed Set!
Available for at a special preorder price!
Releases May 1, 2017
Reserve your copy at 99cents!
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KOBO
APPLE IBOOKS
BARNES & NOBLE
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Love. Passion. No Boundaries.
How far would you go to find true love? Slip into time and discover endless desire crossing the decades with a carefully curated collection of time traveling tales.
Allow these steamy stories to seduce you. Make Time For Love!
Collection includes:
Goddess of Time by New York Times Bestselling author Monica Corwin
Separated From My Love by USA Today Bestselling author Dawn Brower
Flashed Back by Amy L. Gale
Time Will Tell by Sybil Shae
Anita ��� A Heroine of Two Worlds by Liz Gavin
Hellish ~ Dragon Series by Tina Glasneck
It Started with a Slip by Gina Wynn
Kali by Tracy Ellen
Beyond the Ashes by Kaiden Klein
April 4, 2017
Chase Me by Sharon Kleve
Quirky, Private Investigator, Sage McGuire, solves missing person cases. Sergeant Carter Morgan of the Portland Police Department solves violet crimes. Can they keep each other out of trouble while falling head-over-heals in love?
Sage McGuire has a great job she loves. All that changes in the blink of an eye when her long-time boss, Mr. Smithfield, has an accident involving an over-sized rubber band. Mr. Smithfield���s semi-worthless son, Daniel, takes over Smithfield Laboratories and Sage rethinks her career choice.
Sergeant Carter Morgan of the Portland Police Department solves violent crimes and sexy pinecone scent and black leather pants rev Sage���s engine.
Sage���s wild spirit, crazy red hair, and sense of humor take Carter for the ride of his life.
Available here:
Excerpt:
Bridget leaned toward me and nodded in that direction. ���He���s been sitting by himself for a while. A dance with that fine man could take your mind off just about anything.���
Ophelia winked. ���You should give him a try.���
���You think?��� We laughed until we about peed our pants. I noticed he was watching us with a grin that spread across his sexy face. ���Oh shit. I think he heard us.���
���Good. You deserve a little fun after the week you���ve had,��� Bridget insisted.
���Well, I���ve seen my share of gorgeous men, but that guy is smok���n hot.��� I looked heavenward and giggled.
���Oh boy, is he ever,��� Bridget and Ophelia said in unison and fanned their faces.
���I���m going to give him my, ���you can buy me a drink��� look and see what he does.���
All of a sudden Bridget rolled her eyes toward the bar. ���Holy moly, he���s coming this way. That worked fast. I should try that maneuver,��� Bridget whispered.
���Me too.��� Ophelia got out a pen and small notepad from her purse and wrote down what I had done and then tucked her notes into her purse.
Bridget and I stared at her. Her face turned crimson.
���We always come up with great ideas over margaritas, but I can never remember what they are in the morning. From now on, I���m writing them down. Hopefully they���ll make sense in the morning.���
Sharon Kleve's Bio:
Sharon Kleve was born and raised in Washington and currently lives on the Olympic Peninsula with her husband.
Sharon is a multi-published author of contemporary romance. She loves romance. She loves reading romance, living romance, and especially loves writing about romance. She gets no greater feeling than watching her characters come alive in each other's arms. Most of all, she loves giving her characters the happily ever after they deserve���with a few bumps and bruises along the way.
One of her favorite things to do is pick up a new book and sink into the story, immersing herself in the emotions between the characters. She hopes to inspire her readers the same way her favorite authors have inspired her.
When not writing, she can usually be found either curled up in her recliner with her cat and a good book, or in the kitchen baking sourdough bread or bagels.
Leave a comment and I'll enter you to win 1 of 3 eBook copies of my new release. I'll pick the winner's on April 30th.
April 1, 2017
Angelic Visions - Author Young's travels in France
Walter and I stood in line waiting to get into the infamous La Sainte Chapelle, located on ��le de la Cit�� in the heart of Paris. Until the 14th century, this medieval Palais de la Cit�� was the residence of the Kings of France. This royal chapel is among the highest achievements of Gothic architecture.
I remembered the first time I set foot in this resplendent House of God. It was a late spring day in 1967. The morning light was seeping through the Parisian sky when our six-person entourage had this holy sanctuary to ourselves. We models were posing provocatively for Mario and Aziz (both accomplished professional photographers) for their ���Sacred Sex in Sacred Places��� photography project. Photographed within the world���s famous houses of worship, this coffee table book was a limited-edition publication of beautiful people in the throes of passion.
Then, I was an eager teenage, ready to learn the tricks of the world from both my Arabian patriarchs (sponsors of this controversial undertaking), and the Italian fashion virtuoso and photographer, Count Mario Conti.
The moment I stepped through La Sainte Chapelle���s threshold, rays of dancing colors exploded before me as if I had entered the celestial realm. Sunlight had illuminated the colossal stain glass windows, flooding this darkened oratory of Passion relics; including Christ���s Crown of Thorns - one of the most important antiquity in medieval Christendom.
A chorus of angels had flown out from the radiant rayonnants blessing our amatory union with unconditional love, while my handsome lover and I posed seductively for the cameras. These seraphs had stirred our eroticism to unbridled ecstasies.
That was the first and certainly not the last of my angelic visions.
It was my beloved ���hubby��� who ushered me back to reality.
���This place doesn���t look as enticing as you described it in A HAREM BOY���S SAGA - III ��� DEBAUCHERY,��� he expressed disappointingly.
���You must understand, my dear, angelic visions are rare and far between. Neither is now the right time of day nor the correct solitary moment to experience an angelic convergence. This place is filled with tourist, clicking away en masse on their digital cameras. Hardly the appropriate circumstance for God���s messengers to materialize,��� I replied insightfully.
As my beloved continued browsing the Passion relics of yore, I added, ���For your information, and I quote the American psychologist, James Hillman; ���It is impossible to see or experience angels unless you first have a notion of them���.���
This and other amusing vignettes are documented in A Harem Boy���s Saga; a memoir by Young (moi ��� aka Bernard Foong) - (a 5 ��� 7 book autobiographical series): http://amzn.to/1FMlHVY
Bernard Foong (aka Young)
A HAREM BOY���S SAGA (series) - Film Option Agreement signed with a UK Film production company.
Book I - INITIATION is currently in film pre-production.
March 28, 2017
The Truth Will Out by Karen J Mossman
Author Bio:
Karen J Mossman comes from a family of journalists with her grandfather and uncle having been newspaper editors. Further back a 2x grandfather wrote for his local paper and also published a book based on those articles. Karen is the only one to go into fiction. Two of her novels are romantic suspense and one is a thriller.
���She also has three themed short story collections. Karen is also an avid blogger and book reviewer, "It's especially important to me to have feedback from my readers, so please leave a review when you have read one of my books."
Karen lives on the beautiful Isle of Anglesey off the North Wales coast with her husband and elderly Yorkshire terrier. She has two grown up children, who were both born on the same day, two years apart.
Author links:
Amazon Author Page: http://bit.ly/KJMonAmazon
Newsletter: https://magicofstories.net/mosnewsletter/
Website: https://magicofstories.net/
https://www.facebook.com/karenjmossmanauthor
https://twitter.com/karenJMoss
https://instagram.com/kazzmoss/
https://www.pinterest.com/karen_mossman/
https://plus.google.com/u/0/+Karen%20J%20Mossman/
About The Book & Links: Available For 99 cents
The Truth Will Out
You Can Run.
���But You Can Never HIde!
Kelly needs to escape from her abusive and controlling boyfriend, but she's terrified to leave. She���s then given a chance to start a fresh, but is the cost for her freedom too high?
Sarah is happy in her life. She has a dream job and a perfect roommate. But when a brick is thrown through the window, followed by a letter containing razor blades, her life starts to spin out of control. Detective Ryan Andrews is on the case and the two quickly form a close bond.
Will Kelly pay that price for freedom? Can Sarah's secret past be kept from Ryan?
Smart Url Buy link: http://smarturl.it/TruthWillOutKJM
Sample:
The Truth Will Out
�� Karen J. Mossman
���November 11, 2016
Metamorph Publishing
Sample 1st edition
���How���s the yoga going?��� Dave asked, having watched her practice in the garden.
���Good. I like it.���
���You go to that retreat, don���t you?��� he added.
Kelly���s heart dropped as Johnny suddenly looked up. ���What retreat?���
���The one down the back road over Forsham way,��� Dave volunteered, not realizing this was the first Johnny had heard of it.
���I hadn���t told you because I didn't think you'd be interested," she lied.
���Since when do you keep things to yourself? Of course, I'm interested.���
Dave stood up, aware that he had caused a little trouble. ���Sorry, I didn���t realize it was a secret. I���m gonna get showered and burn these clothes. Get the stink of pig off me.���
Pete stood too. ���Yeah, thanks for the coffee, I���ve got some stuff I need to be doing.���
That left her and Johnny looking at one another. ���Tell me about this retreat?��� he said as the door closed.
���There is nothing to tell, really. I came across it one day and liked what I saw. I go a couple times a week. The rest of the time I practice in the garden. I just need something for myself, Johnny.���
���You don���t need anything more than what I provide for you.���
She sighed. ���I know, generally, it is enough, but I want to stay healthy and looking good for you. It���s important to me too.���
���I don���t like you keeping anything from me. I like to know exactly what goes on in my organization. You know that. It���s the only way I can control everything.���
���It���s not part of your organization. It���s just something I like to do.���
���You are part of it. You play an integral part of it. I���m the one who says what���s good for you, K, not you. So, tell me more about this retreat and let me decide.���
Giveaway link: http://gvwy.io/89ko7m4
March 22, 2017
Shopping In Paris (Then & Now) - Author Young's travels in France
I���m one of these blessed individuals with discerning eyes. I can detect items I like from a distance, within a crowded space or in a mad shopping dash. It was under such circumstance that Walter and I found ourselves smack in the middle of the overcrowded Avenue des Champs Elys��es.
The sole of my long-lasting suedes had decided to divorce itself from its main body, leaving me hobbling around Paris like a flapping feet clown. Something drastic had to be done before my shoe disintegrate on wet ground.
While Walter, my beloved was sniggering at my fashion malfunction, I couldn���t help but reminisce an amusing incident during the 1969 Pr��t-��-Porter trade fair I attended with my then mentor and an accomplished fashion photographer, Count Mario.
Our four-person entourage, Mario, Andy, my then handsome ��� 19-year-old model looking lover/Valet, Sammy (a petite gay fashionista) and the teenage moi (a soon-to-be professional fashion designer) were out shopping at this very same boulevard on a wet drizzly day.
To elongate his otherwise five-foot-tall stature, Sammy had donned a pair of 8 inches high platform shoes, camouflaged by his floor length, extremely wide bell-bottom jeans. To complete his eccentric ensemble, he wore a tight fitted/clinger-waisted denim jacket together with streaks of long emerald and cornflower colored hair to match.
All eyes turned towards these four outr�� queer men as we trooped around Paris in style. Before we knew what had transpired, Sammy laid flat on the pavement. His colorful platforms had given way under the slippery sidewalk. Socks of every conceivable colors scattered around him. He had stuffed his platforms with socks so his tiny feet could fit into the trendy footwear.
Not wasting a perfect photographic opportunity, Mario whipped out his camera to capture this unanticipated fashion faux pas; while Andy and I looked on in shock. Quick-witted Sammy, seized this otherwise embarrassing situation and transformed it into a vogue photo-opt. He posed this way and that on the wet thoroughfare as if modelling for a ���L'Uomo Vogue��� fashion shoot.
As our fashion photographer clicked away at this impromptu gaffe, a pedestrian ring had surrounded us; eager to witness a ���fashion happening��� in the middle of Avenue des Champs Elys��es.
By the time, we assisted dearest Sammy to his feet, he had save face with his stylish wit and grace. The applauding crowd showered us with accolades.
This and other amusing vignettes are documented in A Harem Boy���s Saga; a memoir by Young (moi ��� aka Bernard Foong) - (a 5 ��� 7 book autobiographical series): http://amzn.to/1FMlHVY
Bernard Foong (aka Young)
A HAREM BOY���S SAGA (series) - Film Option Agreement signed with a UK Film production company.
Book I - INITIATION is currently in film pre-production.
March 21, 2017
The Complications Of Being Lucy by Gus Kenney
Now's The Time To Start Reading With A New Author!
This series is the next in line with some of the greats!
BOTH BOOKS AVAILABLE FOR 99 CENTS US/UK
A Fun For All Ages New Series Of Modern Day Magic & Adventure.
Did you love Miss Peregrine���s Home for Peculiar Children? How about the stories written by J.K. Rowling & Rick Riordan?
Then You Will Love This!
"This Author Has A Truly Inventive Imagination!"
The Changeling and the Cupboard
���The Complications of Being Lucy Book 1
NEVER GO INTO THE PARK.
���Lucy was never afraid of the dark. She never questioned her family. She never thought that the world of logic and science could be a lie. But on her ninth birthday everything changed when a strange boy came into her life from the very lands she was forbidden from ever entering and she finds herself immersed in a conspiracy that was created before she was born. Her reality is shattered by the existence of magic and things of legend. The bonds of family are tested by a lifetime of deception and the truth of who she actually is, becomes the least of Lucy���s torments. For someone has unleashed a nightmare, and Lucy, her family, and her new friends, are soon on the run from a creature that even darkness fears.
The Changeling and the Borrowed Family
The Complications of Being Lucy Book 2
A nightmare is just a dream in the light of day.
���Lucy was used to everyone hiding things from her. Now she is the one forced to hide. The Changelings have been discovered and to save herself, Lucy must slip into the life of a creature who shares her nightmares. With her family scattered in search for answers and her only friend powerless to help, all alone Lucy must guard her heart from the world she always longed for and from the people that want her dead. But how can you fight the agony of your dreams and the secrets buried in your own blood.
Who Is Author Gus Kenney?
Meet Gus Kenney
Gus lives in western New York with his amazing wife and five four legged children. He decided he wanted to be a writer when he realized that he could never be a spy as good as Timothy Dalton's Bond and that Hired Sword was not part of any growth industry. When he is not semi-busy writing, he spends his time pretending he knows what he is doing at a nine-to-five job and the rest of it complaining that it is taking way too long for them to start showing new episodes of his favorite cartoons. If you're bored, or just a creeper, you can check out the insanity that doesn't make it into his books on his social media outlets.
The Complications Of Being Lucy
As It Is Blog (Stop over and sneak a peek at Book 3!)
Find out what Gus says when asked the difficult question, "What is your favorite part of the story?" Click Here!
Interested in speaking with the author?
���Email him: guskenney@yahoo.com
Gus was asked a slew of questions during an in depth interview with Rukia. Here is just one Q & A from that interview.
Q: Any tips on how to get through the dreaded writer���s block?
A: Honestly, write something else. Anything at all. You can't get truly blocked unless you stop completely. Sure the story you have been focusing on for months suddenly stalls. No need to fear. Just prime the pump of creativity with some other ideas. Do the paint chip trick (look it up on Pinterest). Look online for story prompts(also Pinterest). Take your characters and put them in strange and unusual scenarios that would never come up in the world you created for them. Write something off the wall like a race of people that aren't carbon based but cocoa based (I call them Fudgelians). If all else fails do some dishes. That always works for me. Don't believe me? Come to my house and wash them. You'll see.
Get to know the author!
Read An Interview with The English Informer, France.
Great News! Gus Kenney has something he wants to share with you!
A Rafflecopter Giveaway
&
Name The Character competition!
Name The Character
Author Gus Kenney is offering a chance to name one of the characters for Traitor's Neice, Book 3 in
The Complications Of Being Lucy Series!
The Rules:
Get book 1(The Changeling And The Cupboard), snap a pic of you with the book like the one above(if it's an eBook open it on your ereader device), tag us ( Gus Kenney / Margaret Daly ) and post your picture! That's it! The winner will be announced on Facebook on The Complications Of Being Lucy Page!
Now's the time to get your copies of these books, each priced at 99c/99p.
Then enter the competition to name the character in Book 3!
Don't miss this opportunity to not only read the next hit series, but to be a part in the story yourself!
Thank you for joining us today! We hope you coming away from this with a better sense of this new hit series by Gus Kenney...
If you have any questions you can normally find Gus on FB, or you can send him an email.
Have A Great Day!
Please remember to leave a book review, just a few simple words is all!
March 17, 2017
The Velvet Chair by C.P. Mandara
The Velvet Chair is Book One in a Dark Erotica Series called 'Velvet Lies.'
Blurb:
My name is Mark Matthews. I own half of London, and the part I don���t own, I���m working on.
Life was all going swimmingly well until Michael Redcliff entered my life, demanding that I marry his daughter. Actually, swap demand for blackmail. He���s got goods on me that I want no one else to see, so for the time being I need to be his little lapdog.
I���ll marry his daughter. I���ll give him all the status, money and power he can handle... for as long as it takes me to get a divorce. You see, I can���t renege on our little arrangement ��� but she can. I give her a week. One week and she���ll be screaming the place down for her legal counsel.
Excerpt ��� Jennifer
My hands were visibly shaking. Flexing my fingers repeatedly, I tried to still the tremors, but they were not to be subdued. It was hardly surprising. Today was the day I walked up the aisle and married��� a monster. I was under no illusions that Mark Matthews would forgive me for what had happened, and I could hardly blame him. He���d been manipulated and sexually tortured until he could take no more, and then he���d been neatly cornered. He might have agreed to my father���s demands, but he���d come snapping and biting, feral as a wolf.
I sighed. Today was supposed to be a magical day ��� every little girl���s fantasy. A gigantic cathedral, a sea of flowers, a big fancy dress, and the man of my dreams. I���d imagined it would be filled with tears of happiness and protestations of love. How stupid was I?
Inhaling a shaky breath, I wondered what Mark would do with me. Having always been the sacrificial lamb in this family, today I was being sent off to the slaughterhouse. When I���d mentioned this to Michael, I���d refused to call him ���Dad��� a long time ago, he���d laughed and told me to stop being so melodramatic. As if that made me feel any better. Dear old Dad couldn���t care less whether I lived or died, so I didn���t waste my breath trying to plead with him. All I had to do was play my part in this charade and he would be happy. I needed to keep Michael happy at all costs. The trouble was, in order to play my part, Matthews had to trust me, and I had a feeling that trying to coax that emotion out of him was going to be almost as impossible as trying to convince the Queen of England to relinquish her throne. Matthews wasn���t the sort to trust easily, and now that I had lost what little ground I had gained with him, I would be back to square one. Wrong, I thought grimly. I was going to be at least twenty stories below square one, trying to claw my way out with nothing more than my bare fingernails. Facing up to facts, I stifled a sob. The man was going to annihilate me.
Excerpt ��� Mark
As we pulled out of the Savoy���s car park, Jennifer was a mess. I had little sympathy for her. Each heartbeat that tore through my chest was full of fire, which spat sparks and burned like acid. I was sitting next to a traitor. My body throbbed with emotion, and not the good kind.
I had to admit the dress she���d changed into, just a tiny part of the massive trousseau that was now being shipped to my estate, was rather distracting. It was designed in a glistening oyster silk that caught the light every time she moved. It was seductive enough without the two splits that ran up the side of her thighs, and when she���d seated herself in my car, revealing a vast expanse of soft creamy flesh, my blood pressure had taken a direct hit.
My temper was already simmering in a large saucepan full of resentment, but that turned up the heat considerably. I did not want to be attracted to Redcliff���s daughter. I wanted to abhor her with all that was holy. Desire would weaken my anger, and that must not be allowed to happen. I needed to have a stern talk with my overactive libido and let it know who was boss around these parts.
Little did Miss Redcliff know, but she wouldn���t be requiring clothes for the duration of her stay. I would thoughtfully be providing her with all sorts of novel uniforms, and when she began to bore me, she could just go around naked. I���d decided to train her up to be a sex slave extraordinaire, and it was going to be an exacting and rigorous process. She���d be allowed six hours of sleep a day, and the rest of her hours would be accounted for. Cooking, cleaning, ironing, servicing me, pleasing me, attending to her own personal fitness regime, and some more ���standard��� training sessions.
Failure to comply with her new routine would produce punishments the likes of which she had never experienced. After her first misdemeanour had been dealt with, I didn���t think there would be many more. I was in bastard-mode, and the girl was going to know about it. She had just become my property and I would deal with her however I saw fit. The mark of my ownership would be indelibly printed on her soul by the time I���d finished with her. The damn woman was going to fear the sound of my footsteps, her body would shrink away from me every time I approached her and she would learn to obey my every whisper or suffer the consequences.
My lawyer had already drawn up two sets of papers, one for an annulment and the others pertained to our divorce. It would probably take all the fun out of the arrangement if Jennifer opted for an annulment, so I didn���t intend to scare her witless in the first few days, but I fully expected the divorce papers to be completed inside of a week. I just needed to push the woman to her absolute limit, and then smash her body into the next dimension. If there was one thing I was good at, it was psychological and physical torture. Okay, so that might be two things. In any case, I���d get those papers signed, sealed, and delivered back to Michael Redcliff before the week was out. Piece of cake.
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A little bit about C.P. Mandara:
Christina Mandara is a USA TODAY bestselling author and tends to write dark romance with lashings of kinky naughtiness. Her favourite pastime is travelling, and if it involves sun, sea and��� sand then it���s all good.
In her spare time she���s usually cuddled up with a good book, exploring the countryside or baking in the kitchen. In fact, she loves her kitchen so much she���s one of few woman who wouldn���t mind being tied to it! Her first and foremost love is writing, however, and more often than not you���ll find her on a laptop spinning tales of romance, erotica or dark, paranormal fantasies.
She's a big fan of BDSM in all of its glorious forms, and her favourite item in the toy closet (a box simply isn���t big enough) is her riding crop.
FB: https://www.facebook.com/CPMandara
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cpmandara
Blog: http://christinamandara.wordpress.com/
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7113521.C_P_Mandara
Amazon Author Page: http://author.to/CPMandara
March 13, 2017
The Magical Power of The Written Word - Author Young's travels in France
���Why are there beds situated at different corners of the store?��� I asked Monsieur Mercier, the cashier at the Shakespeare & Co, bookshop.
���It is available for writers to stay a night in Paris for free. Are you a writer, and will like to stay the night?��� he enquired.
Surprised by the man���s response, I expressed, ���I am a writer but I���ll have to decline your kind offer.���
He enquired, ���What genre of books do you write?���
���My memoirs,��� I answered. ���Although, they���re often classified under ���Erotica��� because of their controversial and provocative content.���
The monsieur resumed, ���What is your author name and the titles of your books?���
���A HAREM BOY���S SAGA; A MEMOIR BY YOUNG. There are four books already published but there will be 5 ��� 7 books in the series,��� I declared.
I was astonished when he promulgated, ���I believe we have your books in the store. Are the titles: INITIATION, UNBRIDLED, DEBAUCHERY and TURPITUDE?��� I nodded in exhilaration that my books are available in Paris best-known English bookstore.
The Frenchman led me through a series of book covered towers and narrow pathways, stacked full of the written word. Finally, Mercier pulled out four thick volumes of A HAREM BOY���S SAGA; A MEMOIR BY YOUNG. When he handed the books to me, my palpitating heart nearly leapt out of my chest.
���I read all of them. What an intriguing teenage life you led. I wish my school had a secret programme like yours,��� the teller quipped. ���When is the fifth volume available?���
���I���ll be working on Book V ��� METANOIA, upon my return to Maui,��� I informed.
The man said smilingly, ���I���ll be following your saga.���
He continued, ���Our store is a focal point of English literature in Paris. Anais Nin, Henry Miller, and Richard Wright are frequent visitors. We also host literary activities, like: poetry readings, writers��� meeting, book readings, writing festivals, literature festival, photography workshops, writing groups, and Sunday tea.
���Ms. Sylvia Whitman, the owner may invite you for a book reading at our store.���
���That will be delightful. Unfortunately, my ���hubby��� and I are in Paris for a short time. Maybe, upon our return in December 2017, we can arrange a book reading session,��� I suggested.
Before we left Shakespeare & Co., Monsieur Mercier and I exchanged contact information. Hopefully, upon my next visit to the City of Love, I���ll meet Madam Sylvia Whitman with a book reading gig in place.
Bernard Foong (aka Young)
A HAREM BOY���S SAGA; A MEMOIR BY YOUNG
(a 5 ��� 7 book autobiographical series)
A HAREM BOY���S SAGA (series) - Film Option Agreement signed with UK Film production company.
A HAREM BOY'S SAGA - I - INITIATION; A MEMOIR BY YOUNG is currently in film pre-production.
March 7, 2017
The Nose - Author Young's travels in France
���Our company celebrates its 90 years in 2016. Fragonard parfumeur was established in Grasse, in the Cote d���Azur region of southern France,��� the audio guide announced into my ears.
I said to Walter as we toured the Fragonard Perfume Museum, ���Ever since I first set eyes on Jean-Honor�� Fragonard���s romantic paintings, I was a fan of this amazing artist. His works remind me of Marie Antoinette���s lavish lifestyle.���
���I know, you described it so eloquently in A HAREM BOY���S SAGA ��� III ��� DEBAUCHERY: chapter 32 (French Frivolities). When we retire to this part of the world, we���ll live like the queen,��� my beloved replied wittily.
���No wonder, the Fragonard parfumeur has a museum in Grasse, to honor the painter���s legacy,��� I expressed.
Before I could continue, my beloved remarked, ���We���ll visit Jean-Honor�� Fragonard Villa-Museum when we leave this parfumeur. I want to see his amazing chateau.���
���So do I,��� I championed.
My audio guide continues to explain. ���The history of the Maison Fragonard began in 1926 when Eug��ne Fuchs opened a perfumery named Fragonard, a tribute to the famous painter from Grasse.
���This 18th century building where you stand, housed the original Fragonard perfume factory. Today this historic factory is a museum.
���You will discover the world of perfume and its various manufacturing procedures; from flora selections through to the packaging of the fragrance.
���This museum presents the history of perfume from antiquity to the present via an inspiring collection of images, bottles, boxes and advertising campaigns.���
As we strolled the splendid jardin des fleurs after the tour, I opined to ���hubby���, ���C'est pourquoi je parle de France comme ma vraie maison. Ma deuxi��me maison. (That is why I speak of France as my real home. My second home)���.
He quipped, ���Vous ��tes un ben��t romantique (You are such a romantic ninny)���.
Bernard Foong (aka Young)
A Harem Boy���s Saga; a memoir by Young
(a 5 ��� 7 book autobiographical series)
A Harem Boy's Saga (series) - Film Option Agreement signed with UK Film production company.
March 1, 2017
Replay Book 5: Night Music by Nia Farrell
Replay Book 5: Night Music by Nia Farrell
Length 19,438 words / 104 pages
Release Date March 1, 2017
ARC and Blog Tour Sign Up https://goo.gl/forms/faVW72xkF2NSIzlO2
Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB5 or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N3D4EZE
Paperback coming soon
Teasers and Excerpts https://niafarrell.wordpress.com/2017... or http://bit.ly/2kTBm6V
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
ASIN B01N3D4EZE / ISBN-10: 1543066933 / ISBN-13: 978-1543066937
Blurb:
Dr. Josef Brandt is the Austrian-born staff psychiatrist and a bisexual Dominant at Replay BDSM theme resort where patrons play in the past. He���s something of a loner, but not by choice. He���s been waiting to find his perfect complement���or complements, whoever he, she, or they might be.
When Hollywood comes to Replay���s Versailles Room, Sir Josef is cast as the father of young Mozart, portrayed by Aubrey Wolfe, a twenty-four-year-old musical savant. Luc Vashon is Aubrey���s teacher and serves as an aide to the petite, legally blind pianist. Recognizing that Luc���s feelings run much deeper, Josef decides to play Cyrano de Bergerac and advance Luc���s suit with Aubrey.
He never expected to fall for them both.
This book is an interracial MMF m��nage BDSM erotic romance, written for ages 18+.
Excerpt:
Luc poured a glass of wine for Aubrey and opened two beers for the men. The three drinks turned to six, then eight. Feeling the effects, Josef knew he���d either need to spend the night in his office or have Geoffrey drive him home.
When Luc started to gather the empties, one bottle dropped on the floor and spun wildly at Aubrey���s feet before slowing to a stop. She reached to pick it up and felt its neck, pointing at Luc. ���If this was a game, you���d have to do something,��� she teased. She���d had enough wine to be mellow but she was not drunk. ���You���d have to���you���d have to kiss Sir Josef!���
Of course she would say that. She believed that Luc was gay.
���Well?��� she said. ���What are you waiting for? Kiss him!���
Luc looked up from where he knelt but stayed where he was, with his gaze focused on Josef���s mouth and a new, lambent light in his eyes.
���No.��� The Dominant spoke, his voice demanding attention. ���Luc, you will kiss Aubrey. Make her moan, and I shall reward you, using anything here that is your pleasure.���
Robbed of air, Luc forced himself to inhale deeply, exhale slowly. Heat sparked in his hazel eyes, the flames of awareness fanned by each breath. Shifting his full attention to Aubrey, he crawled to her with deliberation and sat on the floor by her feet.
Luc ran two fingers along the inside of her calf, beneath the hem of her skirt, and curled his hand around her knee. ���So fucking sexy,��� he murmured. ���I want to kiss you here, behind your knee. Or here.��� His hand moved higher. ���And mark the inside of your thigh with my teeth.��� His other hand traced the neckline of her dress, then slid up her chest to curl around the slender column of her neck. ���I am going to kiss you, ma belle, but I will let you choose where.���
Her blue topaz gaze drifted to his lips, soft and full for a man���s. She moaned, even before their mouths met.
Pulling her down to him, he brushed his lips across her wide, expressive mouth, teasing her, coaxing a response. She put her hands on his chest and clutched at the fabric of his shirt, seeking purchase. After years of self-denial, restraints were shattered with one tremulous breath. Lips parted. Tongues parried, locked in a desperate struggle. He thrust ten fingers into her hair and gripped her head between his hands to control the kiss, commanding her, demanding her submission.
She moaned again, into Luc���s mouth, the sweetest music to a Dominant���s ear.
���Good boy,��� Josef crooned. ���That���s enough. You have earned a reward. Tell me, what shall it be?���
Luc pulled back, ending their kiss but keeping his forehead pressed to hers when he revealed his darker passions. ���It���s been a while since my last play session. The cross,��� he said softly. ���And the flogger.���
Josef nodded approvingly. ���The cross and the flogger it shall be, but not tonight. Replay has stringent rules for the protection of all who come here. You must be vetted, have medical clearance, and pass a psychological evaluation before we go any further. Eleanor St. Leger must be the one to give it, if you wish my hand to wield the whip. Sir Piers can arrange anything else you may need.���
Slipping his cell phone from his jacket, he asked Luc for his number and called it. When Luc���s phone vibrated, Josef ended the call. ���You have my number. I���m only a text or call away. For now, though, I shall bid you good night. As much as I would enjoy spending it together, with the three of us sharing a bed, it is best if the two of you���talk.���
Aubrey looked at him, so innocent, her blue topaz eyes widening when she understood where this was headed. He wanted them. Both of them. Beautiful Luc, with his milk chocolate skin and luscious French Canadian accent. Sweet, brilliant Aubrey, who glowed with her own inner light.
Leaving them was one of the hardest things he���d ever had to do.
* * *
Luc watched Sir Josef leave, the click of the door punctuating his unexpected departure. Sighing, he turned back to Aubrey and pressed a brief, fierce kiss against her swollen lips.
He couldn���t wait to feel them on his body.
Patience, he reminded himself. Things were shifting at warp speed, and Aubrey needed time to catch up.
Still kneeling, he rocked back on his heels. Aubrey sat in stunned silence, processing what she���d learned.
That he wasn���t gay, he was bisexual.
That he was in the lifestyle.
That he wanted her, and the Dominant Sir Josef wanted them both.
���Talk to me, ch��rie. I can see your mind at work. Tell me what you are thinking.���
���Luc������ She looked at him���at his shape, he knew, but he felt as if she was looking into his very soul. ���How long?���
���How long have I been in the lifestyle? Since college. How long have I wanted you? Forever,��� he admitted. ���But you were too young. You weren���t ready. You needed me as a teacher, a mentor, not a lover. You don���t know how hard it was, watching you grow, bloom, spread your wings and try to fly, then hold your hand when something would send you crashing to the ground.���
Auditions. Interviews.
Boyfriends.
He regretted that he wouldn���t be her first. He didn���t know much about her experiences, other than the boyfriends never lasted long once they���d had her. He could only guess if the breakups were their choice, or hers.
She blinked and shook her head. ���I didn���t know,��� she whispered. ���I thought���.���
���It doesn���t matter, ma belle. Here, now. This is what matters. We are what matters. What you want. What I want.���
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it for a moment. ���What do you want?��� she asked at last, her cheeks flushed from the scenarios playing out in her head.
���Tonight, just you. No kink. No domination and submission. Just surrender,��� he told her. ���Ma ch��re, believe me when I say that I will always put your needs before mine. Trust that I will continue to take care of you, in every possible way. Give yourself to me, and I will make certain that you never regret it.���
Unfolding his body, he rose to a stand, took her hands, and pulled her up to meet him. She was such a tiny thing, just two inches shy of five feet. He���d have to be careful, or he was going to bruise the hell out of that porcelain skin of hers.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, tightening his hold until she was pressed against him. There was no hiding his arousal. Letting her feel just how much he wanted her, he lifted her chin, kissed her tenderly, and murmured against her lips. ���I���ve waited years for you to be ready for this. All you have to do is say yes. Just. Say. Yes���.���
���But Sir Josef������
���Not now. Not yet. Maybe���maybe never. You heard him. We have to be vetted. Approved to play before he���ll join us. And only then with our permission.���
���He wants you,��� she whispered, blushing again. ���I could hear it. Smell it. And you want him, too.���
���He���s an attractive man,��� Luc admitted. ���I know you haven���t seen the actor I���m thinking of, but he���s almost as tall as me. Thick, wavy hair, and no beard to hide that cleft in his chin. His eyes are brown and very striking, where he���s a blond. His clothes are tailored to fit his frame. He���s trim but muscled, like he plays tennis or racquetball. Maybe he works out, or runs, like me. He has a way of looking at you that���s mesmerizing, especially knowing what he is. What he does. He���s a unique combination of a doctor and a Dominant, someone who understands the human psyche, who recognizes limits and knows what it takes to push you past them. If you are going to learn about the lifestyle, you���ll have no better teacher.���
���Except you.��� She kissed him back, softly, hesitantly. ���You���re my teacher. You should be the one to show me���later. Not tonight. Tonight, it���s just the two of us, okay? I think that���s all I can handle right now.���
���So���that���s a yes?���
She nodded.
Good enough.
