Edie Ramer's Blog, page 22

Release party excerpt & giveaway: THE COLOR OF HEAVEN by E.V. Mitchell (aka Julianne MacLean)

"Mitchell weaves a tale with characters so real that you'll feel their tragedies and victories as if they were your own. You won't want this book to end, but when it does, you'll feel as if you've just spent an unforgettable evening talking with an old friend." — Daisy Piper

Sophie Duncan is a successful columnist whose world falls apart after her daughter's unexpected illness and her husband's shocking affair. When it seems nothing else could possibly go wrong, her car skids off an icy road and plunges into a frozen lake. There, in the cold dark depths of the water, Sophie experiences something profound and extraordinary – something that unlocks the secrets from her past, and teaches her what it means to truly live.

Not long after I crossed the border into New Hampshire, the temperature plummeted. If I had been out walking, I would have felt it on my cheeks. The chill would have entered my throat and lungs, but I was strapped tightly into the cozy confines of my vehicle with the heat blasting out of the dashboard vents, and was therefore shielded from the conditions outside. I will always wonder what brought that deer out onto the road just as the puddles from the melting snow turned to ice. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, galloping onto the pavement, and my whole body went rigid.

Wrenching the steering wheel left to avoid her, I hit the brakes at the same time, which was, of course, the worst thing I could have done.

The car whipped around 180 degrees, so I was now facing the oncoming headlights from the vehicles traveling behind me. My tires skimmed sideways across the pavement toward the shoulder of the road.

I remember everything in excruciating detail, the noise especially, as my car rolled five times down the steep embankment. Glass shattered and smashed. Steel collapsed. The world spun in dizzying circles in front of my eyes, so I shut them and gripped the steering wheel hard, bracing my body against the jarring impact as the roof collapsed over the passenger side and the windows blew out.

Down I went, tumbling and bouncing over the rocks like a stone skipping across water.

Then all at once, it was over.

There was only white noise in my ears, and the thunderous sound of my heartbeat.

I opened my eyes to find myself hanging upside down in my seatbelt, with the side of my head wedged up against the roof.

The engine was still running. Other sounds emerged. Music blasted from the radio – an old favorite song of mine from the 80's, The Killing Time, which was ironic, but in that heart-stopping moment, I was not that reflective. All I could think of was getting out of there.

Panic hit me. Hard. I felt trapped, frantic to escape, and began to thrash about.

I groped for the red button on the seatbelt buckle, but my hands were shaking so badly, I couldn't push it.

My breaths came faster and faster.

I cried out, but no one heard.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a whip cracked. The vehicle shuddered.

I froze and tried to see past the smashed windshield in front of me. Everything outside the car was pure white, covered in snow.

If only I knew where I was. If only I could see something beyond the broken glass.

But it didn't matter what I could, or could not, see. I knew what was happening…

My car was sitting on its roof, resting on a frozen lake. The crack of the whip was the sound of the ice breaking.

Creak… Groan…

My SUV shifted and began to slowly tip sideways…

Buy the book: Amazon, Amazon UK, Smashwords Barnes&Noble

E.V. Mitchell is the pseudonym for Julianne MacLean, an award-winning USA Today bestselling author of 15 historical romance novels. This is E.V. Mitchell's first mainstream contemporary fiction novel. For more information about the book and the author, visit www.evmitchell.com.

One lucky commenter will win an e-copy of THE COLOR OF HEAVEN by E.V. Mitchell. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt and giveaway: HEAD OVER HEELS by Cindy Procter-King

Today is the release day of Cindy's HEAD OVER HEELS audio! Her 6 hour, 38 minutes audio is normally $9.99 but it's on sale for only $3.99 for a short time. I'm excited because Cindy Procter-King is giving away either an e-copy of the book or an audio. Enjoy the fun blurb and excerpt!

Magee Sinclair has had it up to her sassy short hairdo with the financial difficulties a recent rash of blunders has caused her family's advertising agency. How will she prove she deserves the promotion her father has in mind for her when she keeps making silly mistakes?

New client Justin Kane's goal to expand his bike stores hinges on a distributorship deal with a bike manufacturer he needs to impress during a couples mountain biking weekend. He's supposed to bring his steady girl. But Justin's girlfriend dumps him, and he needs a woman to replace her. To masquerade as her. By tomorrow. Magee, an expert mountain biker, is the perfect choice.

Or so he thinks.

Major trouble for Magee, who isn't quite the expert she's claimed in this comedy of errors abound with fake identities, ex-lovers popping up out of nowhere, and a whole lot of door-slamming in the middle of the night.

"What?" Justin Kane shot up from his desk, clenching the cordless phone so tight that his knuckles threatened to pop out of their skin. "Tina, you can't do this to me!"

"Oh, no? Well, I'm doing it, lover." Justin's apparently soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's voice grated over the line. "You've taken advantage of me for the last time."

"Taken…advantage?" Justin echoed like some slow-on-the-uptake parrot. She made him sound like a Class A cad—as if she'd never had a hand in defining the casual nature of their relationship. Befuddled, he shook his head. "I've never taken advantage of you any more than you've taken advantage of me."

"Then let's just say I've grown tired of the game."

"Game? Tina, wait, this isn't a game." Racking his brain for a recent list of sins he must have committed, Justin paced his efficiently organized office above the main Vancouver branch of his three CycleMania bike stores. Concern edged his confusion. He couldn't let Tina walk out on him now. The ink hadn't even been applied to the deal with Willoughby Bikes yet. He wanted that distributorship, and he needed Tina's help to get it.

"Besides," he reminded her, "I thought you liked what we have going together. I thought you liked it as much as I do."

An irritated sigh puffed over the line. "I did like it, Justin, but things change. Or maybe I should say I've changed. Do you know what this weekend means to me?"

"Of course I do. The same as it does to me. The Willoughbys are flying in tomorrow and we're taking them to Whistler." The nearby mountain resort town would serve as the picture-perfect backdrop for convincing Nathan Willoughby CycleMania would fit seamlessly into the British bike manufacturer's growing worldwide "family" of distributors. Justin had been counting on Tina's presence to help cement the image of stability the English businessman demanded.

Tina snorted, rather delicately, but a snort just the same. "Oh, yes, work's what you would think of, all right. But if you try real hard, you might come up with something else."

Justin's spine went as rigid as an aluminum bike frame. He had been trying to decipher this disconcerting new dialect of Tina-speak, and he'd wound up several thousand syllables short. What did she expect? Did Donald Trump think of his main squeeze when he was on the verge of make-or-break time?

He made a wild guess. "It's your birthday?"

"No, it's not my birthday. That was three months ago. Damn it, Justin, you're dense. You're either dense, or you just don't care."

Bafflement buffeted Justin. When had his superficial-and-just-how-he-liked-her Tina transmuted into this perplexing pod-person? Determined to keep their conversation from sinking into relationship quicksand, he focused on a poster of the Cyclone—Willoughby's pro-level, full-suspension mountain bike—that he'd framed and hung on the wall to inspire motivation.

"What then?" he asked Tina.

"It's the six month anniversary of our first date." Her tone assumed the durability of quick-dry shellac.

"Our anniversary?" Damn. He hadn't even known he should be keeping track. "I didn't think that sort of thing mattered to you."

"I didn't think so, either, six months ago. But like I said, I've changed. I'm thirty-four now, Justin. Your mid-thirties might spell fun and games to you, but my freakin' clock is ticking. I want to get married. Maybe have a baby. And I'm not prepared to wait forever for you to decide you want the same."

Justin shook his head, bewildered to the very marrow of his bones. This from the woman who, six short months ago, had declared they'd be perfect for each other because neither of them craved commitment?

"Come on, Tina, be reasonable. You can't just up and announce that you're thinking babies and marriage when all along we've both agreed that's not something either of us wants right now."

Justin refused to repeat his father's mistakes. He wouldn't mix marriage and raising a family with trying to build a business, the way his father had done with his law practice. He'd thought Tina understood and accepted that about him.

"Oh, please," she said, her disgust with him apparent. "I refuse to feel guilty for doing this. My needs have changed and yours haven't. It's that simple."

"But to break up with me now? You know Nathan Willoughby and his wife expect to meet you. How can I take them to Whistler without you?"

"Tell them I have the flu."

"And next week?"

"Tell them I fell off a cliff. I don't care. You'll think of something. You always do." She drew in a sharp breath. "Just listening to you, Justin, it's clear you don't care for me. Not in the way I need. So why should I care about this weekend? Or about whether or not you make this deal? Fend for yourself, big guy. That's what you've been doing all this time, anyway."

She hung up. Or, rather, slammed down the phone with the intent to deafen him, if the ringing in his ears was any indication.

"Tina!" Justin roared before sanity reclaimed him. After shoving the cordless phone onto its stand, he sat back down. Wearily, he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Hell, what a mess. What now? He couldn't go to Whistler without Tina. He'd look like a heel spending a carefree July weekend with the Willoughbys while Ms. Personality-Switcheroo was supposedly lying in bed with a fever. Yet, he couldn't say she'd dumped him, either. One indication that his life was a shambles and Nathan Willoughby would write him off as unreliable. He could kiss the exclusive dealership rights for Willoughby Bikes in Vancouver and the distributorship for western Canada goodbye.

Justin drummed his fingers on the desktop. He might be an ignoramus when it came to the female of the species, but he knew his business—and at this point he wasn't willing to risk it. The four month window he'd established for opening more bike stores depended on the financing the Willoughby Bikes deal would provide. He wasn't about to abandon that all-important step in his carefully constructed master life plan because Tina had sprouted maternal instincts the way most women sprouted leg hair.

Which left him with just one option to pursue.

He needed a woman to replace Tina for the weekend.

And he had to find her fast.

Buy the book: Audio Lark Amazon paperback Amazon Kindle Amber Quill Press

Find out more about Cindy and her books at her website.

One lucky commenter will win an audio book of Cindy's HEAD OVER HEELS. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt & giveaway: DEMON HIGH by Lori Devoti

Lucinda Dent never planned to call demons. She wasn't stupid, after all. She saw what the addiction did to her mother. But her mother has been gone for ten years, sucked into hell by a demon, and all Lucinda has left is her grandmother and the house she grew up in. Who could blame her for using the only thing her mother gave her, a talent for demon calling, to save them?

Lucinda teams up with an old friend and together they set up business, calling demons. But soon things go terribly wrong.

Demons are loose in Caldera High, and not only is Lucinda responsible, she just might be in love with one of them. Can love conquer all or is Lucinda about to lose everything–her home, her new love, and her soul?

A circle drawn with white paint dominated the floor. It was impossible to miss. I knew it was paint without touching it. My mother had made a lot of jokes about people who drew their circles with chalk–said they were one smudge away from "home." Most people thought of home as a good place, but I'd known by how she'd said the word, it wasn't.

Mum must be "home" now too. I drew in a breath and let my body adjust to the cold clamminess that had suddenly formed on my skin. There was moisture in the corner of my eyes too. I blinked that away. Even when I was six Mum hadn't hid the dangers of what she did from me. She'd raised me to be pragmatic.

Mum was gone. Nana and I were here…in this house. I needed to keep it that way.

I stepped closer to the white line. I let my foot break the circle. My feet were bare. I didn't like wearing shoes when I didn't have to. My toes looked strange poking into that circle, made the whole demon thing seem like something I'd dreamed, but then I looked up and saw my mother's leather pouch laying open on the other side of the room. It was flat, empty.

I looked in the circle then. An athame and stone bowl lay near the center. The athame was shoved hilt to dirt into the floor, but the bowl was turned over. The dirt was darker around it. I didn't want to think about what had been in that bowl that the stain was still there ten years later. So I shoved that question into a little box in my head where I kept my grief and shut it off too, concentrated on finding the rest of Mum's tools instead.

They were all there, but they were scattered–as if a big wind had exploded from the center of the room…the circle…and blown them to the four corners.

I didn't think about that, either. I just went about picking everything up and shoving the items into Mum's leather pouch.

When the bag was bulging, I turned to leave. I got as far as the door before I stumbled. My bare toes made contact with something hard and cold. A shiver shot through me and it took all the courage I could muster to look down and see what had stopped my step.

It was a statue, about six inches tall and carved out of something white–bone. Had to be from a big animal–or a human. I gripped the bag tighter. My hands were sweating now. If Mum had been there she would have laughed. Here I was wanting to call demons and the sight of a little bone statue almost sent me running.

Not just the sight, I corrected mentally, the touch too. It had been…slimy. Crawled up my leg and wrapped around my calf. I could still feel it even though the object was no longer in contact with my skin. I picked up my foot and shook my leg.

It was a silly thing to do, but it made me feel better, broke the tension somehow.

I managed a chuckle at myself then, and ordered my knees to bend so I could get a closer look at the figure. It was one of Mum's tools. I might need it.

I should take it.

I reached out thinking if I grabbed the thing fast, I'd get past the part of my brain that was screaming no, but it didn't work. My hand stopped three inches above the small statue and hovered there, shaking.

I started humming, a bad habit I was trying to break. I managed to stop the sound, but gave up on picking up the figurine. I lowered my hand to the ground beside the thing instead and stared at it.

I knew instantly I was looking into the face of my mother's killer. Horns sprouted from his forehead and curled down the back of his head, ending at his shoulders. His face was long and angular, but strangely attractive…aristocratic.

A demon lord. Where had my mother found the object? And more important, why had she called him up?

His eyes seemed to glimmer, to watch me. Something urged me to pick up the statue. My hand even moved toward it. I curled my fingers into the dirt. A nail broke off into the packed earth, and pain shot through my finger. I winced and glanced at my hand.

Blood beaded where the nail had been; it mixed with the dirt.

Someone exhaled, sighed. I thought for a second it was me, like my humming, but then the statue turned his head and his tongue, skinny and white, flicked from between his teeth and lapped at the blood-stained earth.

I picked up the bag and ran like hell–from hell or "home" or whatever lived in my basement.

Buy the book: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes&Noble, Smashwords

Find out more about Lori Devoti and her books at her website.

One lucky commenter will win an e-copy of Lori Devoti's DEMON HIGH. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt & giveaway: WE INTERRUPT THIS DATE by L.C. Evans

Since her divorce a year ago, Susan Caraway has gone through the motions of life. Now she is finally coming out of her shell. Just when she decides on a makeover and a new career, her family members decide she's crisis central. First there's her sister DeLorean who has come back from California with a baby, a designer dog, and no prospects for child support or a job. As soon as DeLorean settles in at Susan's home, Susan's son Christian returns from college trailing what Susan's mama refers to as "an androgynous little tart." Then there's Mama herself, a southern lady who wrote the book on bossy. A secret from Mama's past threatens to unravel her own peace. But not before Mama hurts her ankle and has to move into Susan's home with her babies—two Chihuahuas with attitude. Susan would like to start her new job as a ghost tour operator. She would like to renew her relationship with Jack Maxwell, a man from her past. But Jack isn't going to stand in line behind her needy family.

Chapter One

If I'd had the sense to say no to Mama, I'd be safely at work right now contemplating the passage of time on the clock over my desk. I'd be planning a quiet celebration of the one-year anniversary of my divorce from T. Chandler Caraway, cheater and emotional abuse expert. Instead I was clomping along the sidewalk of a busy Charleston street wishing there were such a thing as parental divorce.

"Walk more slowly, Susan. I do not have long legs like yours to take such giant steps. And please brighten up your expression. Do you know that if you smile when you walk it will automatically improve your mood?"

"Yes, Mama. I believe you've mentioned that before."

A few thousand times. I wondered if fake smiles counted. Going by my current mood, I doubted it.

My mother hadn't stopped talking about my shortcomings and my need to plunge back into the dating world since the moment we'd stepped out the door of her condo. And now we were on our way back to my car after a morning spent in her doctor's office. I sidestepped a herd of tourists and pasted on my blandest isn't-it-a-beautiful-day smile.

Mama leaned closer and traced one finger down my forearm, lighting up a thousand nerves. I jumped as if she'd poked me with a cattle prod.

"You're already forty and not getting a moment younger. Shall I tell Stanley you're interested?" She wore one of those mood-lifting smiles she was always recommending for me.

Resisting a childish urge to throw a fit, I increased my pace, nearly mowing down a touristy-looking couple trying to access the door to a trendy King Street restaurant.

"I declare, you are nothing but rude." Mama lunged, caught the back of my blouse in her fist, and hauled me to a stop.

I yanked my blouse out of her grasp and ground my teeth so hard it felt like I was about to snap off one of my best molars. "Mama, I love you, but the answer is no. I do not need to energize my social life by going out with guys you dredge up for me. By the way, men named Stanley do not make good dates."

"Stanley is a wonderful man. I met him at Sunday School." Since her retirement a few months ago, Sunday School was my mother's main social outlet. She'd already introduced me to two of her fellow Bible Studiers—a widower closer to her age than mine and Clive, a short, intense fellow who'd asked me if I thought pythons should be allowed as pets in apartment buildings.

"And Stanley is so kind, so devoted to his mama."

"I'll bet. Does he wear a polka dot bow tie and part his hair in the middle?"

"You are unfair and biased and plain silly. Let's have lunch and we'll talk about it."

"Of course I am. Unfair, I mean. As well as biased against all men you find for me. And you, Mama, are taking your sweet time as if we have all day to spend discussing this person you found at church when you know I have to get back to work."

I tried to nudge Mama forward. She displayed all the mobility of a two-ton rock, no doubt still caught up in her fantasy of me strolling hand in hand along the harbor with Stanley-of-the-church.

"I've so looked forward to a nice chat over lunch. Why do you think I insisted we park near East Bay, even though it's so far out of our way?"

"I don't know, Mama. To annoy me?"

"Don't be hateful. You know Magnolias does those fabulous crab cake sandwiches and, I declare, their tomato bisque is exquisite." Her eyes darkened from sky blue to twilight in the shade cast by the brim of the sun hat perched on top of her over-sprayed, apricot-colored hair. "My treat?"

"I've already made a lunch date with Veronica." As it happened, my friend Veronica and I were meeting at SNOB, also on East Bay.

I'd no sooner gotten the words out, then Mama put a pincer grip on my arm. Her "my daughter is up to something" radar had a hair trigger.

"Veronica Howell? You haven't seen her in months. What's going on?"

"Nothing." I pulled my arm out of her clutches and rubbed the circulation back. "So I haven't seen her for two months. That's not exactly dropping the friendship. Besides, we phone each other every couple of weeks. Don't you like Veronica?"

Her liking or disliking Veronica was not the point. I was simply redirecting her thoughts so she wouldn't keep trying to talk me into meeting this unsuitable person—Stanley–or, even worse, inviting herself to lunch with me and my best friend. Veronica had told me she had great news. Having news meant just the two of us, heads together sharing secrets and friendship. Definitely not the two of us plus my mother, the gossip queen of the Low Country.

"I do like Veronica, and God knows you need more friends. But it's been a whole year–time for you to forget about T. Chandler and his flagrant immorality with that creature he dumped you for." Mama shuddered like a lady who'd just spotted a bug in her soup.

"Yes, Mama, I'm a real slacker about diving back into the dating pool. I can't imagine what's wrong with me." Biting my lip, I stared down at my feet. Wasn't my marital split hard enough without my mother reminding me I was the dumpee instead of the dumper?

They said divorce meant freedom. They promised that from the moment my ex pulled out of the driveway for the last time, I was free to heave my cleaning supplies into the nearest trash can, toss my wedding ring out the window, and lounge around the house in pajamas stuffing myself with chocolates. The "they" who imparted these words of wisdom were my sister, my friends, and a divorce support group I attended for two weeks.

But certainly not Mama. Mama has made it her life's work to keep me from getting too comfortable with myself.

As I recall, her words to me the day I announced my impending divorce were, "Why, Susan Caraway, I am shocked." She'd swayed on her feet and then plumped down in the nearest armchair to lean back with a handkerchief plastered over her face like a mini shroud. "You are going to regret this hasty decision," she'd added, her breath puffing up the handkerchief, so I'd broken into uncontrollable nervous laughter, which she had immediately let me know she did not appreciate.

But despite Mama's take on things, there was nothing hasty about my decision. T. Chandler Caraway and I had never been meant for each other. We'd stuck things out for too many years before he decided he was moving on with someone else. I was only sorry I'd hung around so long he'd ended up being the one to make the decision, leaving me feeling rejected, unwanted, and just plain low.

No, freedom was not the issue. The way I saw it, if life were about nothing but freedom, there'd be no reason to get married to begin with. For me divorce meant just one thing—failure. And it was my own fault. No one had forced me to marry T. Chandler Caraway. Or bribed me. Or threatened to throw me off a bridge if I didn't don a white dress and look starry-eyed while I chirped, "I do." So who could blame me for deciding I'd take my time choosing someone else to share my life—or never choosing, for that matter. I was managing fine on my own for the first time in my life, if only Mama would stop trying to shove me back into couplehood.

Buy the book: Amazon Amazon UK Barnes&Noble Smashwords

Find out more about L.C. and her books at her website.

One lucky commenter will win an e-copy of WE INTERRUPT THIS DATE by L.C. Evans. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt & giveaway – COME BACK MY LOVE by Sylvia Rochester

Olivia Montgomery disappears into the past, leaving Joseph Underwood a suspect in her murder. She finds herself in arms of Prentice Angelle, a Civil War surgeon. Thus begins a journey fraught with adventure, where true love will be found and lost, only to be tested again.

As her love for Prentice grows, a rejected suitor threatens to destroy her relationship. His actions trigger her return to the present where Olivia discovers that with true love, even time is not a barrier.

The soldier lunged and wrapped his arms around her just as the cannon fired. Heat from the blast stung her face, and the percussion tossed them like rag dolls from the path. They fell, down and down.

Olivia screamed. Sharp roots jabbed her back and briars ripped her hands and clothing. The back of her head slammed hard against a tree, and pieces of bark dug into her scalp.

They tumbled over and over into what seemed like a bottomless pit. The soldier's weight forced the air from her lungs. She gasped and sucked in fine grit that covered her teeth and tongue. The man's fingers, like railroad spikes, dug into her waist and shoulder as he struggled to hold her. His arms, like bands of steel, tightened around her, while the hilt of his sword jammed into her stomach.

Olivia finally drew in a deep breath of air as the slope leveled out, and their bombastic fall subsided into a gentle roll. Lying still in a small, shallow creek, Olivia no longer felt a burning sensation from the locket, only the touch of something cold against her skin. Every part of her body ached with pain. She lay perfectly still, afraid to move, content for the moment to find refuge in the arms of the stranger who had risked his life to save her.

When she finally found the strength to lift her head from his chest, he loosened his hold on her. Confused and frightened, she clutched the sleeves of his uniform.

"No, please, don't leave me."

"I won't," he said, gently maneuvering her onto the ground beside him. "I'm a surgeon. I only want to help you."

His soft voice offered comfort, and something about it sounded familiar. She looked up at a beard-shadowed face framed by long, dark hair. But it was his eyes, brown pools swirling with compassion that commanded her attention.

In the next instant, she blinked and faced reality. None of this should have happened.

"Are you insane?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. "Now's not the time to play doctor. We need to get out of here. Who are you, really?" She watched a bewildered look cross his face.

"Prentice Angelle, Ma'am. I was seeing to my men, when… He stopped and shook his head. "How in the world did you get here?"

"Why, I–" She winced. A sharp pain shot through her head, and something warm oozed down her neck.

Reaching back through her tangled hair, she fingered a gaping wound and remembered hitting the tree. A small, hard object protruded from the cut.

"Ouch!" she yelped as she jerked out a piece of bark.

Blood flowed freely from the gash.

"Let me see." He knelt beside her and examined her injury. "You're going to need stitches."

"Oh, that's just great! And I thought this was going to be fun. You can bet I won't do this again."

He knitted his brow as if he didn't understand.

The back of her dress soaked up the blood and clung to her skin. Feeling faint, she pleaded, "Just help me up."

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

Unable to maintain her balance, she swayed against him. "I don't think I can walk. I'm too dizzy."

His strong, muscular arm encircled her waist. "I've got you."

"What went wrong?" she whispered, holding on to the lapels of his jacket. Her legs buckled, and the rest of her muscles felt like rubber.

"Your being here is what's wrong."

As he lifted her into his arms, everything spun around her.

"But I'm supposed to…" Her voice trailed off. The flashes of light dimmed, and the cannon's roar grew softer.

Buy the book: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes&Noble, Whiskey Creek Press

Find out more about Sylvia Rochester and her books at her website.

One commenter of Sylvia's excerpt will win an e-copy of her book. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events , click here.

Release party excerpt & giveaway: BAD TO THE BONE by Karin Tabke

Police officer Vaden Holbrook and widow Olivia Connor's chemistry is off-the-charts hot, but incredible sex isn't enough for Olivia. She wants it all. Will Vaden's inability to commit push her into the arms of another man? Or can he overcome his past to become the man Olivia needs, the man he'd like to be?

Her mind wasn't on the road. Or her driving. As usual, it was a million miles away, so when she took the wrong turn, it didn't register. She followed the road a few miles before she carelessly ran a red light. A faint, Oh shit, I hope there wasn't a cop hiding behind a bush, flashed through her mind. She made a quick left just in case, then gave her SUV some gas down the old country road.

It was late and it was dark. Hers was the only car on the rutted asphalt road. Her headlights blazed the way until she dunked into a pothole, the depth causing her to bounce and hit her head on the roof. As if to let the pothole know how she felt about that, she glanced angrily in her review mirror. That's when she saw the headlights of another vehicle rapidly closing in on her.

She bit her bottom lip. Her nerves flared and her belly buzzed. When red and blue lights lit up behind her, her apprehension spiked.

The cop car pulled right up on her, lights blazing. She knew what to do. She looked right, making sure the shoulder was wide enough and not littered with the gaping holes left by the recent rain. She slowed, pulled over and came to a stop, then let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

In her side mirror, she watched the cop get out of his car and say something into his mic before he started toward her window; his tall broad form was silhouetted ominously against his headlights. As the strobes flickered over him, she could tell by his strut he was cocky. But then, most cops were. Nervously, she sat back, folded her hands in her lap and waited.

Anxiously, she bit her bottom lip and hit the window button just long enough for the window to come down a crack.

He stopped at the side of her car. All she could see was his duty belt and his narrow waist that flared into a wide chest. He tapped on the glass with the end of his flashlight.

"Open the window, ma'am," he commanded.

Despite the nervous flutter in her belly, her immediate reaction to authority was to open the window more. Even if it weren't, she'd open wider.

Tension sizzled along her nerve endings when he ducked down and they met face to face. Her instinct was to shy away from the dark green eyes shining brightly in the night. Instead, she swallowed hard as her gaze dropped to full firm lips before bouncing back up to the blistering gaze.

He wasn't classically handsome. He had one of those etched character-filled faces. His angles were blunt, nothing refined about him, but they complemented his olive coloring and close-cropped jet-black hair. There was nothing soft or apologetic about this man. It was his eyes and those bad boy lips that transformed him from average to sinful.

Her nipples beaded when his gaze dropped below her chin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow puffs. Her shirt was classic Anne Klein office wear. Although her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and the buttons didn't quite make it to her neck, the way she was sitting made the shirt gape open, exposing her cleavage supported by a lacy demi-bra.

He looked back up at her face. Heat flickered behind his hooded lids. An insolent half smile quirked the right side of his mouth before he backed up. She huffed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. It wasn't like she had intentionally given him a peek. She wasn't like that. She bet half the women he pulled over took one look at him and did more than show a little skin. He was all smoldering sexy. His subtle snub pissed her off.

A woman scorned, regardless of the circumstances, was nothing to mess with. Frustrated by his assumption, she stiffened and stuck her head out of the window. "Why did you stop me?" she demanded.

He cocked a dark brow at her tone. "You ran the light back there. License and registration, please." He held out a big hand. Thick fingers with smooth blunted ends, neat square fingernails. A working man's hand. A single working man's. No wedding ring.

His other hand rested casually on the butt of his gun.

"What are you going to do? Shoot me if I don't do what you say?"

His lips quirked. "I'll use whatever force is necessary."

Shivers hopped along her spine. She wasn't sure if she were afraid or intrigued. Either way, she didn't resist. She took her driver's license out of her wallet and slapped it into his waiting hand. His big fingers wrapped around hers before she could pull away. His touch was electric. A shock wave went straight to her nipples and banked south to the juncture at her thighs. She tried hard to remain impassive. She tugged her hand out of his grasp, then dug into the glove box for the registration. This time, caution prevailed; she sat back and handed it to him, keeping all but her fingertips inside the car.

He took it and looked at her license. "I'll be right back, Ms. Olivia Connor. Don't go anywhere." There was a hint of amusement lacing his deep baritone.

Did he just laugh at her as he walked away? She stuck her head out the window, to tell him to go to hell, but he had already reached his cruiser. She sat back, her temper flaring. "Damn cops think they're God's gift."

In her rearview mirror, she watched him watch her through his front windshield as he called in her info. After what seemed interminably long, he strode back to her door. He reached inside the car, released the door lock, quickly pulling the door open before she realized what he was doing.

"Step out of the car, ma'am," he said thickly.

"Why? You can't arrest me for blowing a red light!"

"Step out of the car, ma'am."

Her pride screamed "no." Her reason told her to just do as he said so she didn't invite any more trouble than she already had. Ultimately, Olivia was good at following instructions.

She stuck her left foot out of the car, her four-inch heel digging into the soil of the shoulder. When she stood, she nearly snapped her ankle. The bad cop reached out to steady her. His long fingers wrapped possessively around her bicep. Her skin flared beneath his chaste touch. When her second heel stuck in the ground, she jerked away from him and had he not grabbed her with both hands, she would have tumbled backwards into the mud. The velocity of his actions brought her chest to chest with him.

The contact was electrifying.

Buy the book: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes&Noble, Smashwords

Find out more about Karin Tabke and her books at her website.

One lucky commenter will win an e-copy of Karin's BAD TO THE BONE. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt & giveway: ONE THOUSAND KISSES by Jody Wallace

"This is a cute and quirky story, although it doesn't go overboard and enter slapstick territory with the quirkiness." -Mrs.Giggles

When one path closes, another opens-if they survive the journey.

The Fey Realm, Book 2

Embor Fiertag, Primary of the Court, has overcome no tougher challenge than the three facing him right now: get reelected, capture the rogue agents who tried to murder him, and improve his love life. The third one should be easy-except he hasn't exactly told Court trainee Anisette Serendipity she's his foretold bondmate. Plus, she's dating his chief political rival and doesn't seem to like Embor. At. All.

Ani has good reason to avoid the stern, serious Embor. Her wayward sister almost got him killed once, and now he monitors Ani like he expects her to do worse. But Ani's not the adventurous type. She can't

even break up with Warran Torval, a man she knows she doesn't want, a man who spends half his time plotting Embor's downfall.

When Torval attempts to force a bond with Ani, Embor senses her fear and steps in.directly into an unsavory political strategy gone all too right. Forced to flee together to humanspace with a manipulative

magical cat, Embor and Ani must find the courage to reveal-and heal-their vulnerabilities before the fabric between the Fey Realm and humanspace is ripped to shreds.

Product Warnings: This title contains sex, fairy drugs, rampant gnomes, bloodshed, and cats ruling the world. As they should.

The child stretched out her arms to be picked up. Dirt encrusted what seemed to be every inch of her skin. Embor Fiertag, Primary of the Elder Court of the Realm, clasped his hands behind his back and regarded the child with suspicion.

"Why are you unsupervised?" he asked the girl.

"Up!" she insisted. Sunlight glinted off her coppery hair. He thought her name might be Petunia of Clan Serendipity, but it could also be Violet. It was definitely not Charles, the third Serendipity triplet.

He also thought if he obliged her, he'd soil his white exercise tunic beyond redemption. Where had the toddler found so much mud in the palace gardens? Her top and short pants were almost as soiled as her skin.

"Up, up, up!" she shrieked, her tiny voice increasing in volume. She flung herself against his legs and gripped. Her grubby toes kicked his ankles.

Because his path in life had led straight to Court, Embor hadn't been around little ones much since he'd been a child. He hefted the girl under her arms, holding her away from his clothing. She was so small it was hardly a strain.

"Fly?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Flying is dangerous."

"Fly. Up!"

"Stop screaming." If she continued to make noise, her cries might attract her mother, and he had no wish to encounter Princess Talista. After she'd nearly gotten him killed in humanspace, he'd avoided her as much as possible. His recent dealings with her husband were more than enough exposure to the mouthy termagant.

Her twin Anisette, on the other hand, Embor hadn't avoided. In fact, he'd scheduled his exercise this morning because it intersected with her routine. She often walked in the palace gardens in the morning when it was cooler.

Despite relocating twice during his exertions, he'd seen no sign of Anisette-only this child, unsupervised by a responsible adult. That didn't rule out her mother's presence, since he didn't consider Talista to be particularly responsible.

The child regarded him with unblinking blue eyes. "No flying?"

"Where is your mother?"

"I ran away," the child confided.

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"That's not a good reason."

She laughed. "Fly!"

Embor lowered her to the ground, but she wailed and kicked, her feet dangerously close to his privates. He sighed. Obviously he wasn't going to be able to put her down until he found her caretaker. He'd have a strong word with whoever had allowed her free rein in the gardens. The grounds were protected by magic, but children could come to harm anyway, or so he understood. There were several fish ponds on the premises, as well as a maze and an extensive orchard.

The girl squirmed, so he placed her on his hip. Her body was hotter and wetter than expected. Perhaps she'd found a pond already. She grabbed his queue of hair and yanked, jerking his head to the side.

The child seemed unusually strong for her age, which he believed to be three. He removed her hand from his hair. She laughed and stuck a finger in his mouth.

"Stop that," he ordered. She crammed her fingers between his lips, and the flavor of dirt and something salty flooded his mouth.

A moving object crashed into the tall privacy hedge that enclosed the exercise area. Embor tensed as the bushes trembled. Assassination attempts weren't unheard of, and Embor had become increasingly unpopular in the past five years.

More inside the Court than out of it, but most coups sprang from the inside.

He gathered magic to transport himself and the child to safety, perturbed it wasn't instantaneous.

"Violet?" called a feminine voice, an edge of panic evident. "Where are you, kitten?"

Not an assassin. Not the tot's mother.

Anisette.

"She's here," he said.

Anisette's slim form squeezed between two bushes. A yellow gown, stains on the skirt and bodice, shimmered around her like a butterfly. Her dark red hair had partially escaped an upsweep, and a twig pronged out of the top.

The day had grown hot. Embor's mouth dried like the desert in Xerode. It reduced the terrible taste of Violet's fingers.

"By the spirits! That little monkey is going to run me ragged. Thank you for. Oh. It's you." Anisette curtseyed and added, "Elder Embor."

"Fair met, Princess Anisette." He inclined his head.

From the time she'd arrived at Court, Anisette had been gracious, studious and led into temptation by two things alone-her sibling's antics and the eligibles at Court who hoped to discover that rarest of relationships, a bondmate. Her high status meant she was pursued by many. She'd even countenanced that slimy bastard from Clan Torval.

Embor wasn't a monster. He was in his fertility phase. He'd been told he wasn't unattractive. He was the Primary, for Ka's sake. Yet Anisette was friendly to everyone but him.

Apparently her niece shared her unfathomable sentiments. The child's gaze fell upon Anisette, and her small body, which had been resting comfortably against him, stiffened.

"Ani!" Violet howled, bursting into tears. She began to struggle in Embor's arms as if he'd pinched her.

He set her down.

"Come here, honey." Anisette opened her arms, casting Embor a sharp glance. The child flung herself into the princess's embrace. "What did you do?"

Buy the book: Samhain Publishing, Amazon, Amazon UK Barnes&Noble

Find out more about Jody and her books at her website.

One lucky commenter will win an e-copy of Jody Wallace's ONE THOUSAND KISSES. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt and giveaway: LYING EYES by Amy Atwell

Perfect 10 "…Lying Eyes is a fun romp readers will surely love." -Romance Reviews Today

9 Stars "A delightful, action-packed gem of a book." -the Season for Romance Blog

5 Flames Lying Eyes was a great entertaining read and I look forward to the rest of the series." -Novel Reaction: (caution, spoilers!)

Her jewels were real, but her life was fake.

No-nonsense jewelry designer Iris Fortune yearns for a normal life. But life as Vegas magician Cosmo Fortune's daughter is anything but normal, especially since dear old Dad is also a scam artist. When Cosmo's latest scheme goes awry and he pulls a real-life disappearing act, Iris is left holding the bag.

Now Iris must be a master of illusion—play the poised partner to her politician fiancé while trying to save her father and stay out of reach of Mickey Kincaid, the sexy thief who claims he's only after her jewels.

Detective Kincaid is deep undercover and seeks Iris out because of her connection to Cosmo—he never expected to be so drawn to her. While working with Iris to find the elusive conman, Mickey learns a killer has Iris in his sights, and he must do everything he can to save her, without blowing his cover.

Mickey's put his life on the line before, but never his heart—and now he's not sure which is more dangerous…

Excerpt from Chapter Two

Releasing a frustrated huff, Iris pushed her work lamp out of the way and climbed off her stool. Her fingers ached as she slid the magnifying goggles from her face and blinked a few times to bring her vision back to real-world size. Wow, she'd been at it for over an hour. Usually focusing her energy on her work relaxed her, took her to another place. Today was a lost cause—this latest Cosmo crisis was a nightmare.

Worst of all, she couldn't reach him. Cosmo always answered his calls or returned them as soon as possible. She'd left a message last night when she got home and another this morning after that detective had left the store.

"Iris, telephone!" Ginny, her perpetually cute assistant, stuck her head in the doorway of the store's design studio. Seeing Iris free, she brought the cordless phone, her hand over the mouthpiece. "Someone named Mickey, and he sounds positively sinful."

"Give me that."

Ginny handed over the phone and waited until Iris pointed her to the door. With a laugh like some invisible fairy tickled her, she shot back out to the sales floor.

Iris waited until she was sure she was alone. Not that she had anything to hide. "Iris Fortune."

"I hear the police visited you this morning. Guess your dad's really MIA, huh?"

Her heart fluttered at the rich timbre of his voice. "What do you want?"

"What did he say when he called you last night?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb. Cosmo called you on your cell at the party last night."

She recalled the glass of red wine and Mickey's intense dark eyes watching her from the shadows. Squaring her shoulders, she perched on her stool. "You were spying on me."

He laughed. "Don't sound so outraged. Every guy in town would be spying on you if he had the chance. Now, what did he tell you?"

"He didn't call, and I have no idea where he is. And if you keep harassing me, I'm going to tell the police about our little conversation last night."

"No chance. If you were going to spill it about me, you would have done it already." He sounded too cocksure of himself for her taste.

"How do you know I haven't?"

"You wouldn't be threatening to if you'd already done it."

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

"And you won't give me up because—" Mickey's voice dropped low. "Because, Iris Fortune, deep down, you're worried about your dad. He may not be much, but he's all the family you've got. You want him back, but you're afraid he's gotten himself into something so bad, the police won't help him. You're already thinking you might need ol' Mickey here to help you out."

"I am not."

"No? Then think about it some more. I'll look in on you later."

"Later? Like tonight? I don't know where I'll be." Recognizing the quickening of her pulse, Iris aligned her design tools into a neat row on the worktable.

"Doesn't matter. I'll find you." The phone clicked and went dead.

"Damn." Iris set the phone down with more force than she intended. She wasn't sure whether her frustration stemmed from his threat to ruin her evening again or that he'd ended their conversation so abruptly. Neither reason was a good sign.

Buy the book: Carina Press,   Amazon,   Barnes & Noble

Visit Amy at her website or find her on Facebook or Twitter

One commenter of Amy's excerpt will win an e-copy of her book. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.

Release party excerpt & 3 giveaways: A NIGHT OF SECRETS by Lori Brighton

Lori is giving away 3 books! One each of The Ghost Hunter, The Mind Readers and A Night of Secrets. She's a must read writer for me, so comment and you'll have a good chance of getting a terrific book.

A Night of Secrets : Historical Paranormal Romance

Grayson Bellamont has spent years on the Continent, fighting a war he cares nothing for. It is only while in the chaos of battle that he can hide what he truly is, a Vampire. Returning to England, he finds his sister murdered and his seven-year-old niece missing. All over the country Vampires are mysteriously dying. Grayson sets out to uncover the truth and locate his niece before it's too late. All leads point to Meg James, a Vicar's daughter. Instinct tells him Meg is innocent, but the clues he uncovers warn she's guilty. One thing is clear, Meg awakens a warmth inside of him he thought long dead and Grayson is torn between a sense of duty and his desires.

Vowing to honor a promise, Meg concocts a lie to keep a stranger's child safe. She had no idea that protecting the child would mean putting her own life in danger. When Grayson arrives asking questions, Meg's unease flares. Who is this mysterious man who seems to appear and disappear as quickly as a spirit? A man with strength like no other? As he pushes ever closer, taking over her senses with his touch, his kiss and his unexpected honor, she realizes she has even more to lose. Meg is falling in love with Grayson, but will he believe her when the truth will condemn the one person he trusts the most?

He suddenly moved, jerking her from her fantasy. Stiff, she waited to see what he'd demand next. When his arm wrapped around her back she almost bolted from her seat. She didn't dare open her eyes, barely breathed as his body pressed to her back and sides, cocooned in a hard hug. She felt the whisper of his hands right before he rested his fingers atop of hers, cold hands that numbed her skin. She stilled, her breathing harsh in the quiet room. She didn't know what he was doing, and was too afraid to ask.

"Keep going," he said softly, his breath brushing against the side of her face.

Her fingers straightened, and then curled, trying to make sense of the alien feel of his cold hands on hers. They were too large, consuming. She wanted to slip out from underneath his arms and rush from the room, leave behind the strange sensations he brought forth.

"Continue," he demanded.

She moved her hands up and down the keys, her progress halted by the weight of his fingers. It certainly wasn't her best performance but he didn't tell her to stop. Finally, the song ended and her hands stilled. He kept his fingers over hers and she didn't dare remove them. Unable to resist, she peeked up to see his lashes resting against his upper cheeks, his lips slightly parted.

His face was all hard planes, but there was a vulnerability about him that reached out and painfully clenched her heart. She wanted to hold him, to slip her fingers into his hair, to explore his taste and tell him everything would be well.

A warm wash of realization swept through her, settling around her heart. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her emotions. Dear God, she had feelings for the man. A man she should fear. But what kind of feelings? Certainly not love, lust then?

Lust. The word settled in her stomach like a sickness. She was a vicar's daughter. She wasn't supposed to feel lust. Even as she thought the words, stories she'd heard whispered amongst the town's women came to mind. Kisses, touches, the heated aches. She hadn't understood it all, had never felt this way around Mathew. She understood now.

Frightened, she started to pull away. Grayson's eyes opened and his fingers clamped around her wrists, holding her captive. There was a fierceness to his gaze that frightened her.

"Merde, you drive me mad, confuse me so I don't know my own thoughts," he whispered.

Meg's lips parted in surprise. He dropped his hands to her hips and jerked her forward, sliding her across the bench. Her palms flattened against his chest, but she was helpless to stop his mouth from crushing to hers.

Hard and bruising, the kiss was completely different from the soft pecks Mathew had given her. Fear gave way to desire, desire to know more, taste more. She felt as if she were falling, falling into a dark, deep pit of sinful seduction.

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Release party excerpt & giveaway: A KILLING TIDE by P.J. Alderman

From RITA-nominated A Killing Tide by P.J. Alderman, an atmospheric romantic suspense set in the small, picturesque fishing town of Astoria, Oregon at the mouth of the Columbia River:

Newly appointed fire chief Michael Chapman, a recent transplant from Boston, tries to get a handle on brewing trouble and his reaction to the intriguing woman who appears to have placed herself in harm's way…

Michael Chapman leaned back in his booth and watched the Jorgensen woman leave. Thick, waist-length, blond hair, a slim, athletic body, and soft, chocolate brown eyes. And attitude—tons of it.

He grimaced. He hadn't paid much attention to women the last couple of years—a sad fact his friends in the Boston Fire Department had pointed out repeatedly—but Kaz Jorgensen had caught his attention and held it. And after talking to her, he could sympathize with the reactions he'd seen on the faces of the other men when she'd arrived. A few had watched her with wistful expressions, a few with barely concealed irritation. But the rest had looked relieved, perhaps even exasperated—probably fishing buddies who'd been worried about her. He'd bet she drove them crazy on a good day, taking chances they privately labeled foolish. She'd certainly caused him a qualm or two when she'd waded into the middle of a brewing bar fight—one that looked as if it might get real ugly, real fast.

Most of the patrons were typical of any waterfront tavern—hard-working, decent people. He'd been looking for just that kind of place when he'd come through the door, and he hadn't been disappointed. He'd looked forward to relaxing, getting a handle on the locals.

The atmosphere in this place, though, was beyond tense. He'd already been sizing up a few hard-looking locals and monitoring the brewing fight when the blonde had jumped in. She was damn lucky, even if one of them was her brother—she easily could've gotten roughed up.

He grimaced, reaching down to rub Zeke's stomach. The dog moaned appreciatively in his sleep. Christ. He'd learned his lesson, hadn't he? He had no business wondering what secrets these people were hiding.

He'd moved out west to find some measure of peace in his life, not to take on someone else's troubles. All he had planned for the next few days was to move his belongings, which had finally shown up several days late, into the Victorian fixer-upper he'd purchased for Zeke and himself on the east side of town. To renew his acquaintance with a few carpentry tools.

Shoving aside his half-eaten burger, he pulled out his wallet, adding an extra five for tip. As he did, he glanced around the bar, noting the closed expressions. Felt the undercurrents. And, in spite of himself, was intrigued.

Those guys hadn't been fighting about anything as minor as Kaz Jorgensen had wanted him to believe. This town had secrets.

Too many secrets.

You can read a longer excerpt of A KILLING TIDE here.

Purchase A Killing Tide for $2.99: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes&Noble, Smashwords

Find out more about P.J. Alderman and her books at her website.

One lucky commenter will win an e-copy of A KILLING TIDE by P.J. Alderman. Comment on all 26 DRAGON BLUES Release Party excerpts for a chance to win more free books! Winners will be announced on Monday, Feb. 28. If you'd like to look at the schedule of events, click here.