Karen Docter's Blog, page 244
May 12, 2015
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Here Lies a Wicked Man by Chris Rogers
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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Burdened with Love
Love is supposed to be this glorious feeling that lifts us out of our mundane world, right? But be honest, how often as loving someone gotten in the way of your personal plans.
We love our families, extended as they might be. We love our pets. We love our “significant others,” to coin a rather outdated term. And deep down, where no one can see or hear, we love ourselves most. When everyone we love is clamoring for attention, what do we do?
This is one of the questions I posed to myself when I started the Booker Krane mystery series. In the end, one murder isn’t much different from the next. From Nancy Drew to Agatha Christie to James Patterson, a crime happens and someone solves it. The puzzle must be intriguing to hold our attention, but even Sherlock Holmes was more interesting when a lady came to visit.
The more complicated our love life gets, the more stress that gets piled on our shoulders. At least that’s what I’ve noticed. At the same time, however, “complicated” is a lot more exciting than “mundane.” And if I can survive love, then my characters need to buck up and face their own complicated lives.
HERE LIES A WICKED MAN
A Booker Krane Mystery
BY CHRIS ROGERS
Blurb
When Booker Krane retired early from his career as a white collar corporate investigator, he was sure of only two things: he was done digging up buried secrets, and he loved being near water. After recovering from the bullet wound from his final case, he settles into a leisurely lifestyle at his new home on Turtle Lake—including his new part-time job as a freelance photographer. But the morning his dog drags a dead body onto the shore, Booker and his camera are commandeered by Sheriff Ringhoffer, and in less time than it takes the elusive perfect lighting to disappear, he’s deeply embroiled within the investigation.
While the deceased, a prominent yet awfully wicked man, had many people who’d likely have motive and opportunity to kill him, Booker wants to believe it was simply an accident. An arrow would be an unusual murder weapon, and he can’t picture any of the suspects—the victim’s wife, sons, business partner, sexy mistress, or attractive lessee—as cold-hearted killers. But it turns out more than one of them knows how to draw a bowstring, and Booker’s curious mind can’t ignore the evidence against the victim falling on his own arrow—even when the sheriff rules the death an accident.
Putting his own life at risk, can Booker solve the case for the residents of Lakeside Estates? Or will magazine deadlines, his budding attraction for Roxanna Larkspur, or tension with his only son interfere with his search for the truth?
HERE LIES A WICKED MAN
A Booker Krane Mystery
BY CHRIS ROGERS
Excerpt
The muddy bank sucked at Booker’s Nikes. He swiped at a mosquito buzzing near his ear. An instant later it tried to invade his new beard—barely half an inch of growth but filling in nicely without a hint of the gray that salted Booker’s coarse brown hair.
Beard-growing hadn’t been his intention. He merely wanted to stop shaving. He hated shaving, and after twenty-odd years of being scraped shiny and stinging, his face demanded a respite.
Through the overhead canopy of oak branches, a shrieking blue jay darted, eliciting an answering shriek in the distance. Morning music. On the eastern horizon, where the tree line vanished at the lake’s edge, the sun emitted a pink glow.
Booker liked the early hours. Quiet. Peaceful. Easy to imagine being the only person on earth up and about. He’d set up the photo shoot an hour ago to wait for perfect light. Now he stroked his remote trigger as a sticky breeze lifted the longish hairs along the back of his neck. Going weeks between haircuts was another perk of taking early retirement, right up there with living in a serene environment far from the city. Being a city-dweller for his entire life until now, Booker had rarely encountered cows, pigs or horses but had met more than his share of horse’s asses.
A wink of light drew his attention to the horizon again, where a bright yellow sun peeked through the pink clouds. Folding his six-foot-four frame—easier now that he was getting more exercise—he peered through the camera’s viewfinder. The three-story house that lay directly across the lake and flanked by woods on both sides was his own. In another few minutes, the sun would melt the remaining shadows, and for a brief time the light would be perfect.
Pine sap prickled his nostrils. He savored the odor. A year ago he’d been breathing exhaust fumes in horn-blowing rush-hour traffic, along with a million other suits scrambling for a higher rung on the success ladder. At the time, Booker’s job seemed important—Hotshot Corporate Investigator Tracking Down Fraud and Embezzlement. He always thought of it like that, a headline in True Detective or some other old-time crime magazine. Never going to happen. The banks he audited kept such happenings under wraps, but in a single year, his last on the job, he’d caught three notable executives with their fingers in corporate or public tills.
Too bad the fourth one had a gun.
Wincing at the remembered pain, Booker rotated his stiff shoulder. He didn’t like thinking it was fear that cinched his decision to retire before his fiftieth birthday. The shooting had been a freaky one-time thing. A vengeful vice president, facing prison because of Booker’s investigation, pulled a .22 revolver from his desk and blam! The bullet’s rapacious path carved up more than Booker’s chest. It took a bloody chunk out of his self-respect and opened a hole in his confidence, a hole Booker had crawled into.
Across the narrow lake, Turtle Lake, the second-largest of five at Lakeside Estates, a ray of sunlight warmed the copper flange at the ridgepole of Booker’s roof. He checked the scene again through the viewfinder and found the picture cocked out of square. One tripod leg had buried itself in the damp ground. He straightened it, shimmied the leg up with a rock, and leveled the lens just as light descended the balcony, warming the brass-studded rails. Not much longer.
Then something red and blue flashed through the frame. He squinted, adjusting the focus.
The flash disappeared behind the house. Seconds later, it appeared on the other side, red tank top and blue shorts above a pair of shapely legs jogging along Turtle Lake Road. Equally shapely arms carried a fat brown paper bag. Auburn hair hung in a long braid. He couldn’t make out the woman’s face.
Panning as she moved, he caught the swing of her stern and remembered seeing the auburn hair worn loose, bouncing saucily above a gentle flare of hips. He recognized those hips. He’d spent a pleasant hour admiring them in the dining room of the Masonville Bed and Brunch while Roxanna Larkspur bent and stooped among the tables, serving her guests.
Wondering what had brought the innkeeper to Lakeside so early on a Friday morning, Booker couldn’t resist snapping a few frames of her retreating figure. Despite buzzing gnats and fickle sunlight, this photography business did have its exciting moments.
When the red and blue vision vanished into the brushy distance, he locked the camera back in place and refocused. Today was his last chance to finish a photo spread for Southern Affairs magazine. “Texas Lakeside Homes,” his most promising commission since starting his new vocation, had fallen into Booker’s lap when the editor’s favorite photographer quit. In the backwash, the editor phoned Booker, oohed and aahed over his online portfolio, and offered him a job, provided he could handle the tight deadline.
“No problem,” he assured the woman.
Then seven straight days of rain squeezed the timeline even tighter and one homeowner reneged. Now the due date was imminent. Booker’s new career in danger of crashing quicker than it started. With a half hour of good sunlight, though, and by including his own architectural oddity in the mix, he might still send the job off tonight—if fate didn’t whack him again.
He checked the viewfinder. Soon but not yet.
As he thumbed the remote trigger anyway, snapping a few digital frames, Pup scrambled from under a yaupon thicket and angled his one good eye up at Booker. A quiet woof escaped his scruffy muzzle.
“Told you to stay home and finish your breakfast.” Booker fished a granola bar from his jeans pocket, peeled off the foil wrapper, snapped the bar in half and tossed the larger piece for Pup to catch.
The dog gulped down his treat then sat back on his haunches. Ears drooping, he whined comically.
“Give it a rest, you hairy-faced beggar. This piece is mine.” Booker bit the morsel in half and, with his free hand, ruffled the mutt’s fur.
Across the lake, sunlight glinted off a first-story window and reflected off the water. Almost time but not quite. He snapped a few more frames anyway.
Munching the crunchy breakfast bar, Booker wiped sticky fingers down his pants leg. Then he plucked a small stone from the sodden lake bank and watched the light inch downward toward the pier. When it brightened a brass pelican at the foot of the steps, he lobbed the rock. It splashed through the water’s calm surface, spreading sun-washed ripples to lap the shore, adding movement to an otherwise static picture.
The perfect shot. The one Booker had set his alarm clock to catch. He triggered the remote—
Then three disasters struck like firecrackers on a string.
Pup barked and streaked toward the lake. In his eagerness to fetch, he sideswiped the tripod.
Booker grabbed for the camera. Mud-mired shoes threw him off balance. He landed on his butt, one knee wrenched painfully toward the rising sun.
The Nikon struck a rock, motor drive whirring like an angry wasp. The crunch of metal and glass made him wince.
“Hellfire, Pup!” He snatched at a clump of weeds to pull himself erect. “When I catch you, I’m going to roast you alive!”
Pup was busy paddling toward the pier, toward the wonderful THING Master had tossed for him to fetch. The weeds tore loose in Booker’s hand.
Scrub brush rustled behind him, then a voice like a foghorn bellowed, “Booker Krane! Is that you?”
“Yes, Emaline, it’s me. I’d appreciate a hand up.”
Emaline Peters, stringy, fifty-odd years old and tough as pigskin, crashed through the yaupon. She drew up short, her quick brown eyes taking in Booker’s predicament. As she offered a hand to heave him out of the mud, her ample mouth stretched in a smirk, but at least she had the grace not to laugh.
“Wish I had my own camera,” she yelled. Emaline always spoke as if listeners were stone deaf. “This’d be one hoot of a picture for The Lakesider front page. How the devil can one man create such misery for himself before breakfast?”
“Chasing the sun, Emaline. If I don’t grab this shot in the next three minutes, it’s gone.” He lifted the tripod and shook his head at the damage to his favorite lens.
“I was on my way to rattle my no-account greens keeper out of bed. Heard you over here cursing Pup.” A PGA instructor, Emaline managed the Lakeside Pro Shop and, every morning except Monday, gave golf lessons to property owners.
“Damn fool dog! May’ve cost me a choice commission.” Booker gave the 35-80 zoom lens a cursory examination before laying it in the camera bag. Maybe only the filter had shattered, but he couldn’t risk it. He snapped on an 80-200 zoom and checked the sun, which had cleared the lower balcony. The pink haze would burn off fast. He slid the zoom to find the best composition.
“Pup! Get out of the dang picture!”
The dog was churning up silt from the lake bottom as he tugged on something he’d found beneath the pier.
“Looks like he’s bringing you a present, Booker.”
“Another piece of refuse from one of our overnight campers, no doubt. You’d think my yard was the Lakeside dump the way that dog drags every scrap of trash in the Estates to my doorstep.” But the quicker Pup hauled ashore whatever he’d found, the quicker he’d clear the frame and Booker could finish shooting. “Come on, boy! That’s it, bring it on.”
Pup lost his purchase and turned to grapple the booty into his mouth again.
“Looks like a rotted tree limb hung with old clothes,” Emaline yelled. “Scorpio moon last night. Betcha a nickel some skinny dippers went home without a stitch.”
The shape of the thing looks wrong for a tree limb. Booker slid the zoom to maximum magnification. What at first appeared to be a branch now looked more like an arm. Surely not a human arm. Not flesh-colored at all. Gray. Mottled.
Straightening, he limped to the water’s edge, wrenched knee protesting fiercely.
“Good dog, Pup. Haul it on in.” The sun climbed higher, casting shadows from overhanging trees.
“That’s Chuck Fowler’s ugly yellow shirt,” Emaline said behind him. “Baby-poop yellow, with that big black stripe. I asked Chuck if he was practicing to be a road sign. I’d’ve thought he was too old for skinny dipping.”
Booker stared uneasily at what might’ve been yellow before spending time in the lake. His stomach did a slow roll, stirring the granola bar into the coffee and biscuits he’d eaten earlier.
“Emaline, when was the last time you saw Chuck Fowler?”
About the author, Chris Rogers…
A lover of art and storytelling since grade school, I opened one of my favorite books one day and wondered if I could ever write half as well as Dean Koontz or Minette Walters or Steven King. How did they create such intricate plots? I started with children’s books – after all – I was a mother … I should understand kids, right?
Well, not so much. So I wrote a romance novel – I’d been married, so I should know a little about romance.
A little was about it. A very nice rejection letter told me there was more mystery in my story than romance. So I owned up to my true calling and, when my suspense thriller Bitch Factor was published, Romantic Times magazine gave it four-and-a-half stars. Rage Factor and Chill Factor also earned high marks for the romantic thread.
The truth is, mystery and suspense novels have always intrigued me, but I also enjoy romance, science-fiction, horror and fantasy, as well as the occasional mainstream novel by such wonderful authors as E. Annie Proulx.
My literary niche, it turns out, is dark and gritty with an occasional humorous twist. If you like that sort of story, you’ll find my books and short stories thoroughly engaging.
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Links to Chris’s website, blog, books, etc.
Website: http://www.chrisrogers.com/
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Don’t miss the chance to read this book! Thanks, Chris, for sharing your story with us!
May 11, 2015
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: The Harlot Countess by Joanna Shupe
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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THE HARLOT COUNTESS
Wicked Deceptions #2
BY JOANNA SHUPE
Blurb
Lady Hawkins’s debut was something she’d rather forget—along with her first marriage. Today, the political cartoonist is a new woman. A thoroughly modern woman. So much so that her clamoring public believes she’s a man…
FACT: Drawing under a male pseudonym, Maggie is known as Lemarc. Her (his!) favorite object of ridicule: Simon Barrett, Earl of Winchester. He’s a rising star in Parliament—and a former confidant and love interest of Maggie’s who believed a rumor that vexes her to this day.
FICTION: Maggie is the Half-Irish Harlot who seduced her best friend’s husband on the eve of their wedding. She is to be feared and loathed as she will lift her skirts for anything in breeches.
Still crushed by Simon’s betrayal, Maggie has no intention of letting the ton crush her as well. In fact, Lemarc’s cartoons have made Simon a laughingstock…but now it appears that Maggie may have been wrong about what happened years ago, and that Simon has been secretly yearning for her since…forever. Could it be that the heart is mightier than the pen and the sword after all?
THE HARLOT COUNTESS
Wicked Deceptions #2
BY JOANNA SHUPE
Excerpt
After what seemed an eternity, Simon saw his opening. The group around Maggie thinned so he moved in to hover at her elbow. She glanced up, the green gaze sharpening behind the mask, and he saw her shoulders stiffen. Blue peacock feathers twitched and bounced as she turned to excuse herself. When her companions departed, she said, “Lord Winchester. This is a surprise.”
“Good evening, Lady Hawkins.” He quickly made the introductions and, despite her apparent displeasure at Simon’s presence, Maggie fussed over the legendary Duke and Duchess of Colton.
“I am so pleased you both came,” Maggie said with an elegant curtsey. “I’ve longed to meet you both for ages.”
“Likewise,” Julia returned. “The performance was inspired, and I adore your costume. Are you Amphitrite?”
“No. I am the humble Naiad Daphne.”
“Ah, but she gives Apollo a merry chase,” Colton noted. “A formidable woman if there ever was one.”
“All women are formidable, Your Grace—or haven’t you realized yet?”
“He is well aware of that fact. I taught him never to underestimate a woman.” Julia raised her brows at Colton as if daring him to contradict her.
“Quite true, Duchess,” the duke responded with a smirk.
“Who designed your chalk drawings?” Julia motioned toward the dance floor. “They are simply breathtaking.”
“Thank you. They were done by an artist of my acquaintance.”
The group turned to study the drawings now being trampled underfoot by the dancers. “Magnificent,” Julia said. “It’s almost a pity to ruin them.”
Simon shot Colton a look over Julia’s head. Knowing each other since boyhood meant no words were necessary, and Colton instantly offered his arm to his wife. “Well, lovely or not, shall we dance?”
Maggie’s lips curved when the duke and duchess departed. “That was nicely orchestrated, Lord Winchester. Dukes at your command. Parliament at your feet. I am anxious for your next triumph. Shall I call back the crowd?”
“Not very subtle of me, but I did wish to speak with you. If you had not refused to see me this week . . .”
“Yes, I have no doubt this is the last place you wish to find yourself this evening.”
Absolutely correct, though he would never admit it. “You would be wrong. I’ve been quite entertained, in fact.”
“Then I shall consider tonight a success.”
“From what I’m told, all your parties are successful. Is it true you once had actual tigers?”
Her green irises sparkled like emeralds. “A bit of an exaggeration. One tiger and he was quite tame. Most of the guests were disappointed, I think.”
The uniqueness of her beauty struck him, as it always had. Pitch-colored, glossy hair. Creamy skin without a blemish or mark. Full, pink lips. There was no woman on earth like Maggie. He’d known it the first time he clapped eyes on her—as had any number of other men, if the rumors of her numerous affaires were true. “The duchess was correct. You are quite beautiful this evening.” His tone was sharper than it ought to be when paying a compliment, and he nearly winced.
Her look turned measuring. “Thank you, though I might catch my death if I do not change out of my wet clothes.” She picked up the skirts of her dress, showed him the soaked fabric. Instantly, he was transfixed by the vision of her shapely leg covered in damp, transparent silk. His blood began to simmer. He wanted to feel her, to hold her . . . to run his tongue over the smooth knob of her ankle. A monumental mistake, if he allowed it, though desire was hardly ever logical.
Nevertheless, what came out of his mouth surprised even him. “Reminds me of the time I taught you to ice skate. Do you recall, at the Serpentine? The hem of your dress became damp and you nearly froze.”
She blinked up at him. “I haven’t thought of that outing in quite some time. That was a . . . nice day.”
“Yes, it was.” The urge to touch her worsened, a strange ache at the fond memories. “Will you dance with me?”
“Oh, I never dance.”
“Why not? You like to dance. At least, you did.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Dancing bores me to tears. Besides, it’s the sort of thing done at respectable parties.”
“Oh, the horror,” Simon drawled.
Her lips thinned. “Mock if you must, but I am no longer the girl you once knew—and I have no desire to become her ever again.”
About the author, Joanna Shupe…
Award-winning author JOANNA SHUPE has always loved history, ever since she saw her first Schoolhouse Rock cartoon. While in college, Joanna read every romance she could get her hands on and soon started crafting her own racy historical novels. She now lives in New Jersey with her two spirited daughters and dashing husband.
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Links to Joanna’s website, blog, books, etc.
Link to Follow Tour:
http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/03/the-harlot-countess-wicked-deceptions-2.html
Goodreads Link:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22715901-the-harlot-countess?from_search=true
Goodreads Series Link:
https://www.goodreads.com/series/130734-wicked-deceptions
Buy Links: Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo | Publisher
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
May 10, 2015
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Kismet’s Kiss by Cate Rowan
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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KISMET’S KISS
Alaia Chronicles
BY CATE ROWAN
Blurb
“A must-read for all fantasy romance lovers.” —The Romance Reviews
“So much sexual tension that the pages are likely to burn your fingers as you eagerly beg for more.” —Coffee Time Romance
A magically romantic fantasy
In the desert realm of Kad, a deadly epidemic strikes the palace of Sultan Kuramos. Only a mystical healer from an enemy land may have the skill to save his household.
He never imagined that healer would be a woman.
Varene finds her own surprises in Kad. She expects the sultan’s arrogance, but not his courage or his selfless care of the ill—or the possibility that the epidemic is the curse of a vengeful goddess.
Kaddite culture condemns Varene’s mystical talents and her presence triggers a plot to overthrow Kuramos. Yet as he and the healer toil for the cure, he loses his heart to her. She falls for him as well, but how can she relinquish her homeland and her principles for him—especially when he already has a harem and his family may be cursed?
Kismet’s Kiss is a two-time Romance Writers of America Golden Heart finalist, a 2010 nominee for Best Debut and Best Fantasy Romance from The Romance Reviews, and a winner of the Duel on the Delta, The Molly, and the Put Your Heart in a Book contests.
Critics Say:
“An exotic story with incredible depth and riveting characters. . . .Electrifying. It keeps you on the edge of your seat for the entire ride.” —The Crazy Bookworm
“Kismet’s Kiss is a magical, exhilarating, sensual delight. Lush exotic world-building, riveting storyline, and strong personable characters set the stage for a rich and captivating story. . . .” —Smexy Books
“A harem fantasy brimming with desire, enchantment and betrayal. . . . I highly recommend Kismet’s Kiss to all readers who enjoy a touch of magic with their romance.” —The Romance Studio
KISMET’S KISS
Alaia Chronicles
BY CATE ROWAN
Excerpt
“When I go home—” Varene fended off the quaver that threatened her voice— “I’d like Sohad to come study with me for a while. He’s a good man, and cares for his patients. He has a great deal of potential.”
Sultan Kuramos closed in, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. “Potential as a physician, or as a Healer?”
Faking indifference, she shrugged. “Both. Different methods, similar goals. He has strong kyrra. I’d like to help him hone it.”
He poured two glasses of pomegranate juice without looking up. “You want to bring magic into my realm.”
“I want to bring healing to your realm.”
He handed her a glass and swirled the juice in his own, brooding. “I’m sure Sohad would benefit from your teachings…”
“Why is there a ‘but’ coming?”
“Have you considered remaining here?”
Varene blinked. “In Kad?” She fought to keep her heart from quickening.
Kuramos looked away, over the stern. “You believe Sohad could benefit from studying a different method. Might there be room for you, in what you do, for learning from the masters of our medicine?”
Her lips made a wry twist. “I apologize for any offense I’m about to inflict, but I wasn’t terribly impressed with the trio of physicians in the palace when I arrived.”
“Nor am I.” He set his glass on the table with a smack. “Perhaps it’s best to be forthright. Varene, I would like you to become my Royal Healer.”
She leaned back against the rail, not quite able to string words into coherent thought. To stay as his Healer. His…servant. “I already have a position in Teganne.”
“Leave it. I’ll pay triple what you earn there.”
Her hands wrapped her glass. “Teganne’s my home. My life is there.” And you are not. I need that peace.
He lifted his drink again and drained it, then surveyed the view behind her toward his palace as the ship floated downriver. “I understand. But homes can change. Lives can change.” His gaze thudded into hers. “They already have.”
Was he referring to her patients’ lives, or his and hers? No, it didn’t matter. “A generous offer, thank you. But though this place intrigues me…” Though I love you… “I’ll have to return to Teganne.” Her lashes drooped as she fingered the lip of her glass, then set it down. “You must find another Royal Physician. Sohad won’t be able to handle it on his own. Even with Priya.”
“I know. I’ve been apprised of your many patients today. People are coming because your healing works.” He lowered his empty glass to rest against hers. “When the sickness first struck, I was reluctant to request your services.” He took a long breath. “Now that you’re here, I can’t imagine being without you.”
For a stunning moment his green gaze seemed to yearn, but it had to be a trick of the failing light. He wants me to stay as a Healer, she thought. Not as a woman. Her heart curled inward.
She turned away and leaned on the rail. The sun shafted one last ray above the horizon and then rolled from sight. Night had fallen, and her world had fallen with it.
On the lower deck, servants lit small torches as people continued to talk and dance. On the upper deck, the gathering dusk cloaked Varene and Kuramos from anyone else’s gaze.
Floorboards creaked as he moved closer. All her senses blazed. He stopped behind her—near enough for her to smell the exotic scent of his skin and feel his breath fan across her nape. Her pulse hammered in her wrists as she clung to the rail.
He touched her ponytail. “This band,” he said softly. “The one that keeps your hair back. Do you always wear it?”
“Most of the time.” She put a self-conscious hand on it and accidentally brushed his fingers. She pulled away as if shocked by sparks.
Several more breaths caressed her neck, then both of his hands skimmed her gathered locks. “Such beautiful hair, Varene. As golden as Naaz’s sun. It doesn’t deserve to be so confined.”
He tugged at the band, releasing it. She heard a tiny thump as he dropped it on the table. His fingers slid into her hair, then let the tresses fall away to glide across her shoulders, her back, her breasts, trailing her skin like a thousand kisses.
He stepped close, one hand on the banister a petal’s breadth from hers, one still playing with her hair. “Better,” he whispered, his lips feathering her ear. “Now you look like a woman, not just a Healer. Why do you hide yourself?”
Her half-lidded gaze clung to the river’s moving shore. “I keep my hair back so I can see my patients and do my work. I’m not hiding—if anything, it exposes me.”
“It masks you,” he said. “You’re veiled behind the facade of the Healer. You shroud what you want, and give to others but not to yourself. What do you desire, Varene?”
There was no safe answer.
He lifted her mane from her nape, breathing in the scent of her. “With your hair down like this, you even smell like the sensual woman you are. Like roses and jasmine.”
“It’s not the lilies along the rail that you’re smelling?” How could he not hear the pounding of her blood?
“It’s you.” His finger traced the rim of her ear, skimmed her neck and across her collarbone. She moaned, wondering what his other fingers could do if she gave them leave.
He stepped close behind her, pressing his strong body into her curves. “Varene,” he whispered, “what do you want?”
Her breath quickened in the darkness. So long it had been, so very long.
Warm palms wrapped her waist and turned her until her breasts slid against the planes of his chest and her body cupped his hardness below. The long, smooth expanse of his muscled back heated her exploring fingers. She looked up into his eyes, dark in the twilight and reflecting the flickers of the first stars.
They’d started this way, three days before in the market. Where would it end? Here, her conscience urged. Now. Walk away.
But her traitorous body wouldn’t leave him. Her blood sang when she was in his arms.
His hand glided down and flexed against her backside; she nestled closer, rocking in subtle movements. As they listened to each other’s quickened breaths, the tension between them stretched and ached. He leaned until his mouth was only a sigh from hers. “Right here. Right now. What do you want?”
She shivered at his words, at the answer within her.
About the author, Cate Rowan…
Cate has washed laundry in a crocodile-infested African lake, parasailed over a Mexican beach, swum with dolphins in the Florida Keys and had Costa Rican monkeys poop in her hair, but her favorite adventures are in story worlds. Her lush fantasy romances about magical deeds, danger and true love in realms near and far have won more than thirty awards. She lives in the wild Rocky Mountains of Colorado with the love of her life and their four rescued feline furchildren, and counts it a good day when she sees red foxes playing in the yard.
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Links to Cate’s website, blog, books, etc.
Amazon (Kindle)
Amazon (paperback)
Apple iBooks
Audible
Barnes & Noble (Nook and paperback)
Kobo
Smashwords
Discover more about Cate:
Cate Rowan’s website
Newsletter
Facebook
Twitter
More
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Don’t miss the chance to read this book! Thanks, Cate, for sharing your story with us!
May 7, 2015
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special** with Brenda Novak
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **AUTHOR SPECIAL**
with BRENDA NOVAK!
Welcome to my Friday bonus feature called Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special**!! Today, in lieu of one of my own recipes, I’m going to introduce you to a new author who will share one of her favorite recipes. Not only will you and I occasionally learn how to make something new and delicious, but we’ll get a chance to check out some wonderful authors. Introducing author, Brenda Novak, and her favorite recipe for TOMATO & GARLIC PASTA!
LOVE THAT!
BRENDA NOVAK’S EVERY OCCASION COOKBOOK
B
Y BRENDA NOVAK with Jan Coad
Blurb
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Brenda Novak has written more than fifty novels. She is also a mother of five, and there is nothing that turns a woman into a fighter more quickly than a threat to one of her children. When her youngest son was in kindergarten, he was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. She’s spent the years since trying to juggle her career with the demands of providing healthy meals for her large and boisterous family, managing her son’s diabetes care and raising money for research. To date, she’s raised $2.4 million and is continuing her efforts with the sale of this cookbook, which includes her own personal recipes (all her healthy favorites) along with recipes collected from friend and co-author Jan Coad.
LOVE THAT!
BRENDA NOVAK’S EVERY OCCASION COOKBOOK
B
Y BRENDA NOVAK with Jan Coad
Several years ago, when my best friend suggested I create a cookbook as part of my fundraising efforts, I jumped into the project with gusto. I’ve never considered myself a foodie, but I did believe that what I’d been forced to learn as the mother of a Type 1 diabetic, who also had four other kids to feed, might be of benefit to others who were in a similar position (or simply wanted to feed their family healther foods). It wasn’t always easy to prepare dinners that my whole family would eat—because that required food that was relatively low in carbs and tasted good, two things that don’t often exist together. LOL So I gathered the recipes I’d either modified or developed over the years, and I had my oldest daughter and her boyfriend help with staging and photographing some of the food, as well as taking pictures of our family.
Then I ran into a roadblock. I had no idea how to figure the nutritional content, and if this was a cookbook designed to raise money for a disease like diabetes, it definitely needed to contain the nutritional information. Not only that, but self-publishing wasn’t quite what it is today, so I would’ve had to find a publisher when I didn’t have a “platform” (anything to lend me credibility) in the cookbook market, since I’m a romance writer, not a famous chef.
After a worthy start, the project slowed, and I put it on the back burner, hoping that the time would come when I’d be able to clear these hurdles, which happened nearly a year ago. A lovely woman by the name of Jan Coad contacted me on Facebook, said she used to own a restaurant and asked me if I’d like to do a cookbook together. Since I’d already started a cookbook, I jumped at the chance to learn more about her—and then I gratefully accepted her help and support.
In December, she sent me her recipes as well as the nutritional information for them. Once Jan jumped in, it gave me renewed interest in the project, and I enlisted my middle daughter, who’d just graduated with an art degree, to help. We began cooking, staging and photographing not only the recipes Jan was willing to contribute but the best of the recipes I’d used to feed my large brood. That was when I realized how good Jan’s recipes really were. I felt like she was the missing piece of the puzzle, and publishing my cookbook would finally be a reality.
But at that point, her son got sick and spent quite a long time in the hospital. I was worried about her and him, and I didn’t have anyone to figure the nutritional information of my own recipes. The project could easily have stalled again, but when I posted the fact that I was doing a cookbook on one of my writer loops, I had a fellow author—Elizabeth Johns—contact me to see if I needed any help. She explained that she was a dietician and could easily figure the nutritional content of any recipe. I was so shocked to have exactly what I needed drop into my lap that I couldn’t believe my good fortune! I sent her the recipes, and she responded very quickly with what I needed.
Now, after months and months of hard work (my daughter also designed the book) at last, LOVE THAT! Brenda Novak’s Every Occasion Cookbook is finished and has just been released. Woo hoo! It contains 75 of my favorite recipes (we taste-tested every single one), with easy ingredients most people with have on hand and loads of pictures—all for the price of only $9.99 in digital. Print is a bit more expensive ($24.99), but every penny goes to fund such important research at the University of Miami’s Diabetes Research Institute, which I believe is our best bet for a cure. So I hope everyone will pick up a copy, enjoy the recipes we’ve used at the Novak household (and Jan has used at her household) and help all of those with diabetes at the same time.
For more information on this cookbook and my other fundraising initiatives for 2015, including three limited edition digital boxed sets filled with BRAND NEW novels and novellas from some of today’s biggest authors, please visit http://brendanovakforthecure.org.
Here’s to making a difference!
Brenda
About the author…Brenda Novak.
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Brenda Novak is the author of fifty books. A four-time Rita nominee, she has won many awards, including the National Reader’s Choice, the Bookseller’s Best, the Book Buyer’s Best, the Daphne, and the Holt Medallion. She also runs Brenda Novak for the Cure, a charity to raise money for diabetes research (her youngest son has this disease). To date, she’s raised $2.4 million. For more about Brenda, please visit www.brendanovak.com.
Links to Brenda’s website, blog, books, etc.
Barnes & Noble ~ Nook
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-that-brenda-novaks-every-occasion-cookbook-with-jan-coad-brenda-novak/1121119650?ean=2940046534023
iBooks
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/love-that!-brenda-novaks-every/id961275670?mt=11
Google Play
https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Brenda_Novak_Love_that?id=uy8yBgAAQBAJ
I hope you enjoy the recipe Brenda is sharing with us today on Karen’s Killer Fixin’s. Happy eating!
Karen
P.S. We’re at 200 recipes and counting with this posting. Hope you find some recipes you like. If this is your first visit, please check out past blogs for more Killer Fixin’s. In the right hand column menu, you can even look up past recipes by type. i.e. Desserts, Breads, Beef, Chicken, Soups, Author Specials, etc.
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TOMATO & GARLIC PASTA
4 lg. tomatoes (coarsely chopped)
3/4 c. water
1/3 c. olive oil
1 t. basil
1 t. salt
1/2 t. pepper
12 large crushed cloves garlic (minced)
1/2 crushed red pepper (or to taste)
16 oz. Pasta of choice
Grated parmesan cheese
Mince or press the garlic and brown it lightly in the olive oil. Add the tomatoes, the water, the seasoning and spices. Simmer uncovered for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Cook pasta and drain. Place in a serving bowl and toss with the sauce. Sprinkle parmesan on top of each serving. Serves 6 – 8.
Cal: 225 Carb: 32 g Fat: 8 g Protein: 9 g Sodium: 209 mg Sugar: 3 g
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**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Brenda is giving away a digital copy of LOVE THAT! BRENDA NOVAK’S EVERY OCCASION COOKBOOK to one lucky reader who comments on her Killer Fixin’s blog. Don’t miss the chance to read this book! Thanks, Brenda, for sharing your story with us!
May 6, 2015
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Lady Sarah’s Sinful Desires by Sophie Barnes
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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LADY SARAH’S SINFUL DESIRES
Secrets at Thorncliff Manor #1
BY SOPHIE BARNES
Blurb
Welcome to Thorncliff Manor, where London’s elite mix, mingle, and may even find their heart’s desire…
There are thousands of things Christopher, Viscount Spencer, would rather do than hunt for a bride, especially since experience has taught him that women are not to be trusted. Then he finds the intriguing Lady Sarah scrambling around in Thorncliff’s conservatory and he is instantly charmed by her passionate nature. But why is she so intent on avoiding him?
Lady Sarah would make the perfect bride for a peer—if not for a tarnished past that she’s hiding from the ton. A stay at Thorncliff Manor was meant to help her plan for her future, not fall in love. Yet Christopher’s kisses are irresistible, his gallantry enticing. When her secret stands to be revealed, will the truth ruin their dreams of happiness?
LADY SARAH’S SINFUL DESIRES
Secrets at Thorncliff Manor #1
BY SOPHIE BARNES
Excerpt
In a carriage on the way to Thorncliff Manor.
1820
“Do you suppose we’ll be arriving soon?” Rachel asked with an edge of impatience. “Before leaving the last posting inn, Mama assured me that it would only be another two hours, but according to my pocket watch it has already been one hundred and twenty- seven minutes. To be exact.”
Christopher gazed across at his younger sister. “I don’t believe Mama has ever visited Thorncliff before,” he said, referring to the Countess of Duncaster’s large estate, which she had turned into a guesthouse. He and his family would be spending the summer there. “This makes her estimate regarding the duration of this journey exactly that—an estimate.”
Rachel didn’t look pleased. “I wish everyone would appreciate the importance of precision as much as I do.” “Cook does,” Laura said sweetly, directing Christopher’s attention to another sister. He had five in total. “I’m sure she would acknowledge the importance of accuracy. After all, there’s nothing worse than a cake with too much flour in it.”
“Do you have to encourage her?” Fiona asked. As the youngest of the Heartly siblings, she had never developed the sort of patience the rest of the brood possessed.
Christopher frowned, while Rachel’s face beamed with newfound pleasure as she latched onto Laura’s comment. “Life as we know it would be impossible without adhering to mathematical and scientific principles. Buildings would fall to the ground, dough would refuse to rise, your clothing would be ill- fitting . . . why, I could go on forever about the effect a lack of structure would have on us all.”
“Must you?” Fiona asked with an underlying note of dread.
“Why not distract yourself by contemplating the splendor of our destination?” Christopher suggested. As much as he loved Rachel, he had little desire to endure a prolonged lecture on Euclidean geometry or, God forbid, her recent study on the movement of slugs. “I’ve heard that Thorncliff is magnificent. Apparently the third Earl of Duncaster wasted no expense when he expanded it,” Laura said before Rachel could comment. “My friend Lady Harriet visited last year with her family, and she has assured me that the estate can easily amuse us all for the duration of our three-month stay.”
“I’ve no doubt about that,” Fiona said promptly, her eyes lighting, “especially since I’ve every intention of putting my own time there to good use. I mean to find that jewelry box Grandmamma spoke of when we were little.”
Christopher stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you remember? She always said her family in France sent heirlooms to England during the revolution to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. It was all she would have had left of her family after they all perished at the guillotine, but for unknown reasons, the box of heirlooms never arrived. I’m convinced they must be hidden away at Thorncliff. Considering Grandpapa’s close friendship with Lord Duncaster, I—”
“Now that you mention it, I do recall her saying something to that effect, but I never really put much weight in it,” Laura said. “You know how badly Grandmamma suffered the loss of her family. I always believed her talk of the jewelry box was her way of hoping a part of them had been left behind and would eventually come to her.”
“But she specifically mentioned receiving a letter from her sister, the Duchess of Marveille, in France, encouraging her to wait for it—that the duchess had sent it to England and that arrangements had been made for it to be delivered to her.”
“Your memory is certainly to be admired,” Rachel said, “but I think we must accept that the heirlooms never left France, as unfortunate as that is.”
“But in her diary,” Fiona insisted, “Grandmamma wrote of a visit Grandpapa made to Thorncliff shortly before his death. She wrote that she prayed her husband would soon return home with the box.” “And yet she never received it,” Christopher pointed out.
Fiona sighed. “No, she didn’t. Grandpapa set sail for France, perishing with the third Earl of Duncaster when the ship went down.” She sighed, her expression somber, though her eyes remained sharp with determination. “It’s possible the jewelry box is still at Thorncliff, in which case, I’ve every intention of locating it. You can count on that.”
About the author, Sophie Barnes…
Born in Denmark, Sophie Barnes spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She’s lived in five different countries, on three different continents, and speaks Danish, English, French, Spanish and Romanian. She has studied design in Paris and New York and has a bachelor’s degree from Parsons. But, most impressive of all, she’s been married to the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.
While living in Africa, Sophie turned to her lifelong passion: writing. When she’s not busy dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, swimming, cooking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading. She currently lives on the East Coast.
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Links to Sophie’s website, blog, books, etc.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/02/lady-sarahs-sinful-desires-secrets-at.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23149157-lady-sarah-s-sinful-desires?ac=1
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/136344-secrets-at-thorncliff-manor
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/o5lPP153kEc
Buy Links: Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
May 5, 2015
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess by Mariana Gabrielle
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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LA DÉESSE NOIRE: THE BLACK GODDESS
BY MARIANA GABRIELLE
Blurb
Sired by a British peer, born of a paramour to Indian royalty, Kali Matai has been destined from birth to enthrall England’s most powerful noblemen—though she hadn’t counted on becoming their pawn. Finding herself under the control of ruthless men, who will not be moved by her legendary allure, she has no choice but to use her beauty toward their malicious and clandestine ends.
When those she holds most dear are placed in peril by backroom political dealings, she enlists some of the most formidable lords in England to thwart her enemies. But even with the help of the prominent gentlemen she has captivated, securing Kali’s freedom, her family, and the man she loves, will require her protectors stop at nothing to fulfill her desires.
LA DÉESSE NOIRE: THE BLACK GODDESS
BY MARIANA GABRIELLE
Excerpt
“Miss Shaheen, I am enchanted.”
When Kali rose from her curtsey, Lord Fitzmarten bent over her hand, not kissing it with a sloppy, slobbering mouth, nor stroking her fingers or tickling her palm or turning and licking her wrist, as some men had done. Rather, he simply supported her fingertips on the back of his hand and bowed properly without touching his lips to her kid glove.
She found her breathing shallowed even more than her tightly strung corset demanded, setting her breasts heaving in her mulberry silk charmeuse evening dress. The décolletage had been scooped low both back and front, baring more of her shoulders and hugging more of her curves than even the most risqué aristocratic ball gown. Yet, he kept his eyes on her face, treating her like a respected lady of the ton, not the courtesan-for-sale they both knew her to be. For Kali, it was exhilarating.
In the final stages of her training, Mayuri had begun allowing her to occasionally perform in the kotha, but not in clients’ beds, introducing her to men without fielding offers for her favors. No Masala Rajah customer she had met displayed manners any better than a pig. Fat, short, ugly, disagreeable drunkards, gluttons, lechers, and fools. Perhaps, she thought, upon her introduction to Lord Fitzmarten, Mayuri had purposely shown her the worst sort of man, just to keep her expectations low.
This gentleman, on the other hand, was terribly attractive, even to a woman who had studied every aspect of the male form nearly since birth. She estimated he was five or six years older than she, with dark hair and eyes, pale skin, and a physique rivaling the most flattering effigies of Nakula, the most handsome man in Hindu mythology. An authentic smile highlighted a humorous, probably mischievous, temperament Kali suspected would be anything but boring. The way he looked at her eyes, not the rest of her body, warmed her heart. The timbre of his voice warmed the rest of her.
The perfectly tailored black velvet jacket and breeches, Pomona green waistcoat and dancing pumps, and matching emerald cravat pin holding in place the starched waterfall knot, were more suitable to a formal occasion than meeting one’s new mistress, so he had likely stopped here on his way to less salacious entertainments. Why that should make Kali’s stomach drop, she had no idea, since it was her lot in life to be conveniently sandwiched between his more important social engagements.
“Delighted, I’m sure, my lord. I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
Mayuri beamed at Kali’s perfect timing. Lord Fitzmarten had arrived precisely on time at eight o’clock; it was now exactly twelve minutes after.
“I believe I have been waiting a lifetime for you, my dear, though only a moment or two this evening.”
Kali swallowed a nervous giggle. Though this was their first formal introduction, it seemed he had been waiting everywhere she went the past few months. Peeking through the side door of the kotha, before Madame Falodiya shooed her away. ‘Losing his way’ in the halls outside the training rooms. At the back gate waiting for his carriage, she leaving on foot to go to the dressmaker.
Then, Mayuri had insisted she was too young to receive his attentions. Even though she was nearly fully trained, even though she knew thousands of ways they might please each other, even though he might have made an offer Madame Falodiya would never have refused, he had chosen to wait until she was old enough to choose him on her own.
“I do hope you will feel free to call me Fitz, as my friends do. It only makes sense, if we are to be so closely acquainted.”
“As you wish, Fitz. I hope we may find ourselves close friends.”
Kali blushed as Mayuri looked on. She would interrupt the flirting should Kali feel in any way threatened, but not one minute sooner. Kali’s eyelashes brushed over her warming cheeks, trying to hide brief glances at his thick, wavy black hair, eyes black and fiery as peppercorns, firm jaw and supple lips stretched into a smile when he caught her watching.
About the author, Mariana Gabrielle…
Mariana Gabrielle is a pseudonym of Mari Christie, a professional writer, editor, and designer with more than twenty years’ experience. Published in dozens of nonfiction and poetry periodicals since 1989, she began writing mainstream historical fiction in 2009 and Regency romance in 2012. In all genres, she creates deeply scarred characters in uncommon circumstances who overcome self-imposed barriers to reach their full potential. She is a member of the Bluestocking Belles and the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. Her first Regency romance, Royal Regard, was released in November 2014.
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Links to Mariana’s website, blog, books, etc.
The book is currently available for pre-order at:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/19cKUjY
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Fc31m3
iTunes: http://apple.co/1E4ajHF
Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/1K1vMGq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1Bx1OCV
All Romance Ebooks: http://bit.ly/1DeYx8O
Website and Blog: http://www.MarianaGabrielle.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5055425.Mari_Christie
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MariChristieAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/mchristieauthor
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/marichristie/
Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/marianagabrielle
Authorgraph: https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/mchristieauthor
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**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Mariana is giving away an E-copy of Royal Regard (now) or La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess (June 10 delivery) to one lucky reader (choice of format) who comments on her *Author Peek* Interview or Karen’s Killer Book Bench blogs. Don’t miss the chance to read this book! Thanks, Mariana, for sharing your story with us!
May 4, 2015
Karen’s Killer Book Bench: Unforgiven by Lori Adams
KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!
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UNFORGIVEN
The Soulkeepers #3
BY LORI ADAMS
Blurb
Otherworldly desire and paranormal action reach new heights in the final installment of The Soulkeepers. As Sophia St. James moves Heaven and Hell to claim her destiny, questions are answered, secrets are revealed—and immortal love is tested.
After finally becoming a powerful Spirit Walker, Sophia St. James is shocked to discover that her conjured identical twin, Ka—along with her soul—have been dragged down to Hell by the relentless Demon Knight Dante. Sophia tries to hide the crisis, but there is little hope of keeping any secrets from her red-hot Guardian Angel. Growing suspicious, Michael has been making plans of his own that will bind him and Sophia together forever.
But Sophia is plagued with evil visions through Ka’s experiences in Hell. She is terrified that Dante will discover he has taken the wrong Sophia. Desperate to return to her original state before she withers away and dies, she risks everything to go where Michael can’t follow. To bring back Ka and save her own soul, Sophia must now enter the gates of Hell.
Praise for The Soulkeepers
“In a clash between heaven and hell, no one raises the heat like Spirit Walker Sophia and her Guardian Angel, Michael.”—Cecy Robson, award-winning author of the Weird Girls series
“As romantic as it is addictive, with witty writing, an action-packed plot, and a face-fanning romance all in one, The Soulkeepers is quickly becoming one of my favorite paranormal series.”—Cassie Mae, author of The Real Thing
“If you are looking for an amazing and unique paranormal romance that never has a dull moment, has an intense love triangle, fabulous characters, and a captivating, action-filled plot, then look no further than this highly addictive series.”—The Avid Book Collector
UNFORGIVEN
The Soulkeepers #3
BY LORI ADAMS
Excerpt
I descend the steps and enter the labyrinth of colorful tents. The meadow is thick with guests so I weave through, keeping my head down to avoid being stopped by well-wishers that I’d rather not lie to. My second heartbeat rages inside me; Michael ignored my request and is hard on my heels. I know he’ll bombard me with questions the moment we’re alone. This, I want to avoid.
I catch a glimpse of Michael’s cousin Milvi waiting for me outside the dressing chamber at the edge of the meadow. She’s one step ahead of me and I realize privacy is not to be mine after all.
I stop short, turn around, and raise my hand. Michael halts. “Please, don’t follow me. Don’t make a scene.”
He steps closer and whispers, “I’m not the one making a scene, Sophia. Are you going to tell me what happened on that stage? Are you going to tell me the truth?”
The truth? I would love to tell Michael the truth. But I’m terrified of what he’ll think of me. I’ve only just now gotten him back. How can I explain that I’ve been involved with Dante, that I allowed him—begged him—to take me to a private demon nightclub to find a spell book so I could create Ka. How do I explain Dante’s late-night visits? How do I explain my trust in the demon whose only ambition has been to Take my soul? How do I tell Michael that Dante has Taken my soul?
I can’t. At least not now. Not when I’m not sure how it happened. I haven’t even explored ways to get my soul back. There is so much I need to understand first, and risking Michael’s love all over again is not an option.
I reroute his attention to something more intimate. Besides, this is truth of a different kind.
I close the distance between us and whisper, “Michael . . . I was completely shocked to feel three tugs on my heart. I was afraid you . . . didn’t love me anymore. I was afraid we were—”
“Of course I still love you,” Michael murmurs. His anger vanishes on the heels of my confession, and he starts to raise his hands to hold me but remembers himself and lets them drop. He works to overcome his emotions. Struggles to harden his resistance. But his eyes can’t hide his desire. “I’ve missed you so much. I’d give anything to touch you right now.”
Blood rushes to my face, burning my cheeks with a deep sort of yearning. I’m caught off guard by his intimate admission, lost within myself as he gazes into my eyes. We stare like holding hands. Everything else falls away when Michael looks at me with such longing. I don’t want to disturb anything. I want to keep Hope right here; I want to stand back and watch it grow and grow. Strong and vibrant above all else. Hope that I can make things right is all I have.
I clasp my hands to keep from reaching for him. I wonder if there will be a day when we can do as we please, hold each other without worry, without breaking any spiritual vows.
Heat pulsates between us like an electric charge, and I see that Michael is struggling to hide his emotions. Color rises to his cheeks while his fist clutches the hilt of his sword. His liquid blue eyes blink slowly, so heavy with need that it breaks my heart. I don’t want to fight this anymore. I can’t, and I raise my hand to cup his face.
“Sophia!” Raph calls out, causing us to flinch and step back. He pushes through the guests and wraps me in a hug. “Congratulations! Never had a doubt that you could do it.” He steps back and clasps my shoulders, grinning. I instinctively look away, afraid he’ll sense my desire for Michael, or worse, notice my missing soul. “Hey, you’re coming to our house, right? You know Mom and Dad planned a private party?” He continues without missing a beat. He has failed to learn anything from me, and I’m flooded with relief. Maybe this is going to work after all.
Michael clears his throat. “I was just telling her about that. In case she wants to stop by and—”
“Mom’d be disappointed if you didn’t come.” Raph ignores Michael and drapes an arm around my shoulder, leading me away. “Can I tell her you’ll be there?”
“Of course. I was just on my way to change.”
Raph deposits me at the dressing chamber, where I turn and look back for Michael. He is gone.
About the author, Lori Adams…
Lori Adams is the author of the Soulkeepers series: Forbidden, Awaken, and Unforgiven. She wrote her first book—about scary sharks—at the age of eight. Now she writes New Adult, young adult, and middle-grade fiction. Originally from Oklahoma, Adams lives in Southern California with her husband and two daughters.
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Links to Lori’s website, blog, books, etc.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/07/unforgiven-soulkeepers-3-by-lori-adams.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22747313-unforgiven?from_search=true
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/112984-the-soulkeepers
Buy Links: Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
May 3, 2015
*Author Peek* Interview with Mariana Gabrielle
**AUTHOR PEEK** Character Interview with
MARIANA GABRIELLE
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INTRODUCING…MARIANA.
Before we get started talking about your writing, tell us a little about yourself, where you’re from, what you do for a living (if you’re not a full-time writer) what hobbies you have, etc. Whatever you’d like to share to introduce yourself.
I am a full-time writer, though not of fiction. I’ve been a writer, editor, and designer for almost 25 years, mostly in business, marketing, and technical fields, and am now moving as fast as I can into the world of fiction, both my own and supporting other authors. I grew up in Denver, Colorado, where I still live with my two kittens, India and Burton, who demand that I talk about them in every interview. (They would like everyone to know that they are no longer kittens, having just turned one, and their mom should stop treating them like babies.)
1. What genre(s) do you write and why?
Regency romance and mainstream historical. My mom’s side of the family can trace the family tree back further than the Norman Conquest, so I grew up with family lore and a healthy respect for ancestry. Both of my mainstream historicals were based on family stories—the first, my paternal grandmother’s childhood in Brooklyn, the second my maternal great-great uncle’s career as an international journalist. None of my Regencies have any familial connection, but I do like to joke that I would be a capital-L Lady if my ancestor hadn’t signed Charles I’s death warrant.
2. If you were to choose one superpower, what would it be?
Invisibility. I used to be a “people person,” but not as much anymore. I also like to wander around my house naked, which my roommates don’t like as much as I do.
3. Do you ever get stuck when you’re writing a book? What do you do to get “unstuck”?
I don’t suffer from writer’s block very often, but when I do, I work on some other piece of the project: the cover design or blurb or media kit or marketing plan. Since I am a professional writer and designer, I do almost all my own marketing work, and it is a different mindset to step away from the manuscript and into the business side. I’ve also been known to eke out a poem or two, purely to get out of “novel head.”
4. What is your least favorite part of writing ?
Endings. I hate endings. Invariably, I have to write three or more to find the right resolution for both characters and plot. Every once in a while, the right closing rolls off my pen (La Déesse Noire is an example of that hallowed circumstance), but usually, it is like cutting off my own arm and beating myself about the head and shoulders with it. Then cutting off the other arm.
5. If we came to your house for dinner, what would you prepare for us?
Just about anything you want. I love to cook and love new recipes.
6. What is your typical day like?
I usually spend at least half the day on freelance work, and the other half on either writing or book marketing (or both). Recently, I have started working with a handful of other authors, so more and more of my time is taken up with publishing concerns. I’ve just signed a contract to publish a mainstream historical and have two novellas to release later this year, so presumably, there will be a lot of editing and rewriting in my near future.
7. What is most difficult for you to write? Characters, conflict or emotions? Why?
The most difficult thing for me, actually, is setting. I tend to be character-driven, and sometimes they don’t pay much attention to their surroundings. Emotion can sometimes feel stiff, especially on first draft, because, by nature, I’m not a very emotional person. As a general rule, I have to stay very cognizant of character reactions to their immediate environment.
8. A penguin walks into your office, right now, wearing a sombrero. What does he say to you and why is he here?
He says: “Have you taken your meds today?” I’ve been treated for bipolar disorder for almost 20 years, and no penguins have been in my vicinity for a very long time.
9. If you could wave a magic wand, what ill in the world would you solve and why?
Illiteracy, because education can solve a lot of other ills.
10. Tell us about your next book & when is it being published?
La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess will be released on June 10, and tells the story of Kali Matai, a famed London dancer and toast of the demimonde. She is the illegitimate daughter of a British peer and an Indian courtesan once under the protection of the Maratha Empire, and is forced to England after her mother’s death. When she finds herself controlled by a bevy of merciless men, her family and friends under dire threat, she has to use all of the resources at her disposal to save herself.
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Links to Mariana’s website, blog, books, etc.
The book is currently available for pre-order at:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/19cKUjY
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Fc31m3
iTunes: http://apple.co/1E4ajHF
Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/1K1vMGq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1Bx1OCV
All Romance Ebooks: http://bit.ly/1DeYx8O
Website and Blog: http://www.MarianaGabrielle.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5055425.Mari_Christie
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MariChristieAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/mchristieauthor
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/marichristie/
Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/marianagabrielle
Authorgraph: https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/mchristieauthor
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BE SURE TO COME BACK to read more about Mariana, her release, and an excerpt from La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess on Wednesday’s Karen’s Killer Book Bench. Happy Reading!
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**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Mariana is giving away an E-copy of Royal Regard (now) or La Déesse Noire: The Black Goddess (June 10 delivery) to one lucky reader (choice of format) who comments on her *Author Peek* Interview or Karen’s Killer Book Bench blogs. Don’t miss the chance to read this book! Thanks, Mariana, for sharing your story with us!
April 30, 2015
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special** with Diane Escalera
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **AUTHOR SPECIAL**
with DIANE ESCALERA!
Welcome to my Friday bonus feature called Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special**!! Today, in lieu of one of my own recipes, I’m going to introduce you to a new author who will share one of her favorite recipes. Not only will you and I occasionally learn how to make something new and delicious, but we’ll get a chance to check out some wonderful authors. Introducing author, Diane Escalera, and her favorite recipe for MOJITO!
DANGEROUS DESIRE
B
Y DIANE ESCALERA
Blurb
Sometimes you have to lose one thing to find another.
Sienna Diaz is desperate to find her missing Beagle, no matter what it costs. She hires Cruz Santino, the best—and hottest—in the business. He’s an ex-cop, dangerous on many levels, which comes in handy when all evidence indicates her beloved pet was snatched to use in a dogfighting ring.
Cruz will do whatever it takes to find Sienna’s lost pet, but he also wants results from the smokin’ hot attraction between them—and he isn’t above breaking his own hands-off-clients rule to get there. However, until he brings her beloved Beagle home safely, he won’t have Sienna’s undivided attention…and affection.
Content Warning: Strong language, caliente sex, violence, and a dangerously hot rescue.
DANGEROUS DESIRE
B
Y DIANE ESCALERA
Excerpt
In full view, Cruz stripped off his sweaty black tee and Sienna nearly had a heart attack. Jesus Christ. The men at her gym would’ve despised him. Her eyes slowly drank him in. Good God. He had the sexiest bod she’d ever seen. Taut and tan, his muscles were chiseled in a way that gave his dimensions beautiful symmetry. Tori would’ve been impressed. She’d always preached about the importance of muscle balance. Some men took it to the extreme. Not Cruz. He sported a tapered waist with shredded abs, V-shaped torso, and arms that made her drool because, if she had to pick a favorite body part, arms were it.
He used the dirty shirt to dry sweat off his gorgeous frame. Her eyes followed his movements, stopping at the bulldog tattoo etched on his sculpted pec, with the word Marines below. He’d been in the service, a kickass Marine. How hot!
He busted her checking him out.
She yanked her eyes away. Jeez. Her face probably looked as red as it felt.
Holding up a fresh shirt, he shook it out a few times. The sound of fabric caught her attention. Her gaze slid that way again. Okay. Sound had nothing to do with it. She just had to look one more time. He pulled the shirt over his head. Terrific. Now he wore a white muscle shirt tailor-made for his ripped physique. The thing should’ve been outlawed.
Wearing a sly smirk, he combed his fingers through his short, spiky hair. Running down the inside of his arm below his rock-hard biceps, he had another tattoo, this one with five small Chinese symbols. What a unique spot for a tattoo, and unbelievably sexy, like everything else about him. Even his name sounded hot.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and snapped his door shut. He didn’t look at her, but then, he didn’t have to. She knew he knew what kind of effect that little display had on her. Oh yeah. He had it written all over that smug face. He might be a soaking-wet dream she didn’t mind entertaining on a nightly basis, but she didn’t have to be so obvious.
Sienna grabbed her seatbelt and tried to latch it.
“Damn,” Cruz mumbled, as he watched her struggle with the belt. He turned on the ignition and flipped the air conditioning to the highest setting.
She looked at his face instead of his sinewy arm. It took willpower, because those arms really did it for her. “Is there a trick?” The mechanism wouldn’t click into place.
“I keep forgetting to get that thing checked,” he said. “Don’t usually carry passengers except for Roman.” He looked back at his dog and grinned. Roman sat on the bench seat patiently waiting to go bye-bye.
“It doesn’t work at all?” She preferred to wear a seatbelt, and not just because of the law. South Florida had some loony drivers.
“It just takes a little maneuvering,” he replied. “Let me give it a try.” He turned all that magnificence toward her and reached across her chest.
Holy crap, he was totally in her face, his delicious body stretched across her lap. Sienna held her breath and pressed her back into the seat. She felt his weight, smelled his soap and baby shampoo. Her every cell fell under his spell. She tried to find her voice. “Any luck?” she squeaked out.
They were eye-to-eye, his mouth so close that if she puckered her lips, that would be it. His gaze traveled downward. He tilted his head like he wanted to kiss her. Uh-oh. She hadn’t made out in years. She probably sucked at it by now. A magnetic intensity pulled her to him, and she had a feeling she’d relearn pretty quickly. Her body buzzed with sexual urgency. Not once in her life had she felt this consumed, this desperate to feel a man’s lips on hers.
About the author…Diane Escalera.
Born and raised in the Bronx, NY, Diane Escalera makes her home in coastal North Carolina. The sultry surroundings are a steady source of inspiration for her hot love stories. Diane is married, has two children and a super cute dachshund she can’t get enough of. She writes contemporary romance and is published with Kensington Publishing and Lyrical Press.
Links to Diane’s website, blog, books, etc.
Facebook.com/DianeEscaleraOfficial
Amazon, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, Smashwords
eBook & Paperback
I hope you enjoy the recipe Diane is sharing with us today on Karen’s Killer Fixin’s. Happy eating!
Karen
P.S. We’re at 199 recipes and counting with this posting. Hope you find some recipes you like. If this is your first visit, please check out past blogs for more Killer Fixin’s. In the right hand column menu, you can even look up past recipes by type. i.e. Desserts, Breads, Beef, Chicken, Soups, Author Specials, etc.
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MOJITO
The Mojito is one of the most popular cocktails. It originated in Cuba, was second to the Daiquiri on Ernest Hemmingway’s list of favorite cocktails, and has become one of the more fashionable tropical drinks. It’s very simple, using mint and lime to accent the rum. Delicious and refreshing, Mojitos are the perfect choice, especially on a hot summer day!
Ingredients
2 teaspoons sugar
6-8 mint leaves
Club soda
1 lime, halved
2 ounces light rum
Mint sprig for garnish
Prep Time: 5 minutes
Yield: 1 Cocktail
Preparation
Place the sugar, the mint leaves, and a little club soda into a highball glass.
Muddle well to dissolve the sugar and to release the mint flavor.
Squeeze the juice from both halves of the lime into the glass.
Drop one half of the lime into the glass.
Add the rum.
Stir well.
Fill the glass with ice cubes.
Add the rest of the club soda.
Garnish with the mint sprig.
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**SPECIAL GIVEAWAY**: Diane is giving away an eBook copy (Kindle or ePub format) of DANGEROUS DESIRE to one lucky reader who comments on her Killer Fixin’s blog. Don’t miss the chance to read this book! Thanks, Diane, for sharing your story with us!
Congratulations Week 04-20-15 Giveaway Winners!
CONGRATULATIONS WEEK
04-20-15
GIVEAWAY WINNERS!!
Karen’s Killer Book Bench with Cynthia Woolf!!
Giveaway: Cynthia is giving away a paperback copy (US only) or ebook copy (International) of CORA to one lucky reader who comments on her *Author Peek* Interview or Karen’s Killer Book Bench blogs. Thanks again, Cynthia, for sharing your book with us!
WINNER ~ BEVERLY ROSS!
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s with Mary Anne Edwards!!
Giveaway: Mary Anne is giving away a Kindle copy of A GOOD GIRL to one lucky reader who comments on her Killer Fixin’s blog. Thanks again, Mary Anne, for sharing your book and recipe with us!
WINNER ~ LIZ EVANS!
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[All winners chosen by random.org from reader comments. Thank you.]
