Karen Swart's Blog, page 33
January 30, 2015
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Break Her Fall by @JoAnnaGrace4ya
Break Her Fall
Blake Pride Series
Book 2
JoAnna Grace
Genre: Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal romance
Publisher: Winged J Press
Date of Publication: Jan 20th 2015
ISBN: 978-1-94-460-15-4
ASIN:B00RKOSPXS
Number of pages: 300+
Word Count: 91K
Cover Artist: Jleeann.com
Book Description:
As beta female of the Blake Pride, Amilynn does whatever it takes to get the job done and guard her family—even if it might not be morally sound. Now that the Pride has moved in with the Blackburn Pack, she faces a threat she never saw coming…a mate. The sexy and persistent wolf wants to claim the leopardess, but she’s not going down without a fight.
Ezekiel is used to getting what he wants and his eyes are set on his seductive target. Yet predicting Amilynn’s next move is fruitless. He’s caught between admiring her strength and resenting it. Does he dominate or submit? Can he prove to Amilynn she really is worth the fight?
When a ghost from Amilynn’s past stalks their family, Ezekiel will learn her true strength. Amilynn isn’t a docile house cat and, by the time she’s done, everyone will know it.
Available at Amazon
AMILYNN SNUGGLED INTO the warm arms that were around her. God, Ezekiel smelled like heaven. The sweet honey of his mating scent filled her mind and made her inner leopard purr with desire. It was so easy to sleep when his strong arms held her close and kept her safe. He was there for her in her time of distress, waiting to see if her best friend would pull through the night. He’d given his own blood to save Vivian’s life. Amilynn never thought she could find peace in the middle of a hospital, in the midst of a catastrophe like this, and yet Ezekiel gave it to her.
Her cat had never been more satisfied, even if he was a wolf.
While Ezekiel kept her safe, Ami could focus on the crisis at hand. Vivian had to live. She had to make it. If there was no hope for Vivian to live a full life of love and happiness, then what chance did Amilynn have? Vivian was wilder, more feral in her independence than Ami and, somehow, she’d found a mate in Kasey Blackburn who was worthy of her devotion. The wolf alpha had shown his love for Vivian time and time again, gaining the trust of the rest of her Pride. But look where it got them. The songs were bullshit. Love is not all you need.
Vivian fought for her life in that hospital because members of Kasey’s Pack didn’t want the Pride coming in. The feline shifters didn’t belong there, so they said. The Pack might be a mixture of wolves and bear, but adding felines to the mix was more than some of them could handle. The rebellious group had done a fine job of letting Amilynn and her family know they weren’t welcome.
Amilynn, in particular, had been warned off the males of the Pack. Here she sat in Ezekiel’s arms, the arms of a future alpha. Wouldn’t that cause another rebellion? The hookers and hounds, what a mess.
Her cat came to attention when a rumbling in Ezekiel’s chest woke her up. The low growl was aggressive and full of warning. Her eyes popped open, ready to defend her family at any cost.
“Easy, fool,” Tyrone, her brother, warned Ezekiel in gravelly bass.
Ezekiel, who had also been awakened with a start, gripped Ty’s hand. It took a couple of seconds for all of them to realize there was no threat.
“V’s awake.” Ty yanked from Ezekiel’s grasp.
Amilynn didn’t hesitate to uncurl from Ezekiel’s lap and follow Ty. She didn’t look back, couldn’t. Once she was in her right mind, she would explain to Ezekiel that there was no way they were going to be together. They were too different.
Ami took her first easy breath when she saw Vivian’s eyes open. They were half crossed, but they were open. Relief and love bubbled over her, creating a wave of deep emotion she didn’t know how to process. She could cry, but who had time for hormonal drama? When Vivian smiled at her, she had to blink back the tears. Damn. This was not cool.
“Well,” Ami said, needing to escape with her dignity. “Since Kasey is stuck up your ass, and you’re in good hands, I’m going to jet.” She sniffed and made sure not to look Vivian in the eyes again. “Glad you’re awake.” Without another word, she left the hospital room. Her chest constricted so tightly, she could’ve passed out.
“Here.” Ty tossed her a set of keys. Of course her brother would know she didn’t want anyone to see her lose her shit. She gave him a nod and bolted from the hospital. Go figure; they were to Ezekiel’s motorcycle. At least if she cried while she was on the bike, she could blame it on the wind in her eyes. Sometimes being a girl sucked.
Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?
I’ve always been a writer at heart, but I was taught to get a “sensible” job, so I had brief but educational experiences in real estate and at my local Chamber of Commerce. I’ve also worked with/for my husband for the last 13 years. We’ve been married for 11 ½- so do the math! wink wink
When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?
Always! But the validation came with my first email from a reader who wasn’t related. Knowing someone who didn’t share my DNA actually loved the book was pretty cool.
How long did it take to get your first book published?
A while. I believe there is a time and season for everything and back in 2011, when I tried to submit to publishers, it definitely was not my time or season…mainly because of a surprise pregnancy late that year. I took that time to learn and revise. In early 2013 I attended the NOLA Stars conference and listened to authors speak about self-publishing. That changed everything. My first book was out with a small, umbrella press late that year.
Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?
I manage my husband and brother’s construction company from home and keep my 2 year old. Yes, I work with my little brother and my spouse while taking care of a toddler. What can I say? I drink.
What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?
Break Her Fall is: sexy and funny. Amilynn is the only person who can kill someone and shag a hottie on the same day. (20 words!)
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
I worked with Progressive Rising Phoenix Press on Divine Destiny in The Divine Chronicles series and with Dark Red Press for the Blake Pride Series. But I’m primarily self-published. I really like the freedom and business of it.
How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?
Usually a few months, depends on the book. Amilynn’s book, with revisions was about three months start to finish.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
I want to finish out the Blake Pride Series and get another Divine Chronicles book out. Then I would like to integrate my contemporaries in there. Hopefully in 2016 we can see some of those come out. I have soooo many stories just waiting their turn in line.
What genre would you place your books into?
Romance all the way. Mainly Paranormal. I’m a sucker for a good love story. Throw in some fighting and I’m good to go.
What made you decide to write that genre of book?
One of my books started out as a contemporary and I realized there wasn’t a real man on earth capable of what Ryse was doing. So I made him a god! While writing that story I realized how much I love paranormal and supernatural stuff.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
That’s hard! That’s like asking which kid is my favorite. I really loved writing Amilynn. She’s a sassy, funny bada$$. She doesn’t have a filter and yet she can be so sweet and kind when she wants to. I want to be as cool as she is when I grow up.
How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?
I’ve always sought out writing to unwind after my day jobs. I wrote while I was in high school, I made picture books as a kid. It’s always been a part of me but it wasn’t until a couple years ago that I really decided it was time to pursue it as a career.
Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?
I like to move around when I write. I have an office and work in there, but I have nooks around the house. I have playlists for each of my books or certain genres that get me into the mood, even candles help.
Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?
Heck no! I’m thankful for the good ones and throw the bad ones over my shoulder. Opinions are like armpits, ya know?
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
I suck at titles! It’s not easy for me. I usually change the title two or three times through out the writing process.
How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?
Usually the characters name themselves and then I double check if it works. But if a character arrives without a name, I’ll research something appropriate that they like.
Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?
Places are kind of like names. Sometimes the characters tell me where they are, sometimes they don’t and I have to research.
Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?
The characters have to grow organically for me. I know a lot of authors plan their people but mine grow within me through the journey.
Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")
All over the freaking place. Go find them!
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
A book is a book. I love my iPad. I love paper. Just read!
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
I’ve read all of Nalini Singh’s books about three times each, the Vampire Academy/Bloodlines books, Black Dagger Brotherhood. Sometimes you need comfort food for your soul, right?
Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?
Some do. Vampire Academy was a letdown. Sorry. Dimitri was the best part of that movie. I hope to get the chance to see my books on screen one day. That would be great!
Your favorite food is?
Chocolate. Coffee. Nuff said.
Your favorite singer/group is?
Ouch. That’s hard, too. I’m really diggin Imagine Dragons right now.
Your favorite color is?
Purple/blue
Your favorite Author is?
Nalini Singh. Hands down.
Thanks so much for hosting me today! It’s great to have the chance to visit with you. Please check out my books and let me know what you think.
JoAnna Grace lives in a world of alpha males and strong females where true love conquers all—at least in her mind!
From the time she started holding a crayon she began to create magical worlds. Her first book was a series of pictures about a puppy princess. The story changed each time she told it, but there was always a happy ending! Her first written story was about girls who changed into tigers.
Now those stories have become a bit more complex!
JoAnna’s tales are spun at her home in East Texas where she lives with her husband, three kids, and a couple dogs. When not hiding behind the computer screen you can find her camping, boating, and shopping.
Sign up for her newsletter to receive information about new releases, events, and giveaways! www.authorjoannagrace.com
JoAnna loves to hear from readers and fans!
You can find her at the following places:
Authorjoannagrace.com
Twitter: @JoAnnaGrace4ya
January 29, 2015
Book Blast & Giveaway: Zoku’s Hope by @ChelCOneal
BOOK INFORMATION TITLE – Zoku’s Hope SERIES – Angel Crest Trilogy #2 AUTHOR – Chelsea O’Neal GENRE – Urban Fantasy Romance PUBLICATION DATE – March 21, 2014 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 220 pages PUBLISHER – Mirador Publishing COVER ARTIST – Mallory Rock’s Art
BOOK SYNOPSIS After Jaiden found Daniah in Juniper, they returned to Garnet City. Daniah is destined to become Queen of Zoku, a race of angel half-breeds who protect the humans from a soul-stealing evil. Now, Daniah is learning of her abilities and responsibilities as queen. Just as things seem to be going smoothly, a group of Zoku show up to help, led by an angel, Shelly. Mallory has been on her own for most of her life, trying to protect and save those around her. She is Toyek, and she's been hiding in plain sight while fighting for her life. She is intent on finding her friends' daughter, whatever the cost, when an innocent trip to the supermarket takes an interesting turn. Orion has been hired to find a female and, as a Tracker, finding people is his specialty. He finds much more than he was looking for when he runs into the beautiful Mallory. While pursuing both his target and the resistant Mallory, he finds himself fighting to defend Princess Daniah and the Zoku. Can Orion and Mallory work together to help Daniah be the hope the Zoku so desperately need? Or will a few surprises and a tragedy be all it takes to break the united front of the Zoku fighting against the evil Meikal?
BUY & TBR LINKSAMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK – AMAZON PAPERBACK – BARNES & NOBLES NOOK – BARNES & NOBLES PAPERBACK – SMASHWORDS – ITUNES – GOODREADS – SHELFARI
EXCERPT “Cord, come dance with me,” I suggest, sliding out of my chair and holding my hand out to her.
She looks up at me in surprise then blushes and reaches her good hand up to clasp mine and we head to the dance floor. The music has all been slower songs, which is good because with her broken arm Cord wouldn’t be able to get too crazy.
I slide one arm around her waist and pull her against me while taking her free hand in mine. We sway to the music and I notice the beat changes into another song which is a bit faster, so I dip Cord back then nudge her gently with my arm at her waist while pulling her other arm, making her go in a circle before pulling her body back up against mine.
She giggles. “This is fun, and you’re quite good,” she says smiling up at me. “Even with my bum arm.”
I smile back and respond, “thank you.” Then we continue on, me dipping, swaying, pushing away pulling her back against me. I twist her so that her back is against me and we sway in time to the music. I drop my head against her shoulder and lay my cheek against hers.
“You’re pretty good at this yourself,” I say into her ear and feel her body tremble against mine as she lays her head back against my chest. �“Even with your bum arm.”
We sway a bit more, before I spin her around again and dip her before bringing her up against my body, lifting her to where her face is close to mine. We are still swaying slightly as the music changes again, and then, looking into her eyes and her flushed face, I lean closer, my eyes falling to her lips.
I feel her take in a breath and hear it catch in her throat. I release her hand and slide both of my arms around her, one on her waist and the other around her back. Her hand moves to my shoulder and I feel her pull me closer. My eyes flick back up to hers, which are locked onto my mouth. Without another thought, I lean in and press my lips against hers softly. My hand moves to her nape as I cradle her against me.
I feel a shock at the first touch of our lips and then I feel Cord press herself even closer to me as she pulls at my shoulder. She is everything I have been wanting and more than I had hoped for. Her lips are soft and warm, molding against mine; her body is lean and muscled, though still soft. Her hand moves up to my hair and she lightly scratches my scalp and I moan into her mouth feeling the touch all throughout my body.
I move my lips against hers, lightly swiping my tongue against her lower lip, coaxing her to open for me. She does, sucking in a shuddering breath, and I thrust my tongue into her mouth. I feel as well as hear her groan in to my mouth as she angles her mouth against mine.
I pull back from her mouth and move to her neck, lightly leaving open- mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck. I have waited years to finally kiss her, and I have wanted her more the last few days. “Cord,” I whisper and I feel her body stiffen.
I pull back and look at her in question. She looks up at me with indecision all over her face, though I can see the desire in her eyes.
AUTHOR BIO Chelsea O’Neal lives in her fantasy world where people can fly, vampires could be real, money is never an issue, and the romantic meeting of your true love is a normal happening. When not relaxing in Chelsea-ville, she enjoys talking with animals that talk back and taking long walks with her Prince Charming…
Actually Chelsea lives in the United States in Nebraska, where she was born and raised, with her black lab Daisey, who hasn’t spoken actual words, but she is pretty sure Daisey understands her. She is yet to meet her Prince Charming, though she is quite sure he is out there. Chelsea enjoys working in a library as well as a cosmetologist. She is an avid reader and writing has always been her passion. Zoku’s Hope is her second novel, and she is working on her next book now.
AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKSAMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK – TWITTER – GOODREADS – SHELFARI – OTHERS
GIVEAWAY 1 ebook of each of my books.
Book one info below BOOK INFORMATIONTITLE – Juniper’s Princess SERIES – Angel Crest Trilogy #1 AUTHOR – Chelsea O’Neal GENRE – Urban Fantasy Romance PUBLICATION DATE – July 2, 2013 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 254 pages PUBLISHER – Mirador Publishing COVER ARTIST – Mallory Rock’s Art
BOOK SYNOPSIS Daniah is different, she always has been and now her dreams and visions of the future are increasing, she knows her life is changing. She just doesn't know by how much...
Jaiden is different, but he knows why and he knows his responsibilities. He must find the saviour of his race, the angel human half-breeds who are fighting a war for humanity's souls. If he can't convince Daniah she is more than just a little different - she is the princess of their people - they are all going to die.
Unfortunately Daniah doesn't have many reasons to trust Jaiden, especially when he is caught in a web of his own lies. In a world where half-breed angels walk among us, fighting an evil for our souls, Daniah must find the strength to become the princess we all need.
Chelsea O'Neal has a unique voice in storytelling, threading the characters lives together intricately to give us a complex web of good versus evil in a world descending into chaos...
BUY & TBR LINKSAMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK – AMAZON PAPERBACK - BARNES & NOBLES NOOK – BARNES & NOBLES PAPERBACK – SMASHWORDS – ITUNES – GOODREADS – SHELFARI
January 28, 2015
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Man Candy by @jewelquinlan
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![clip_image002_thumb[1]](http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZvEbZe3lV9A/VMjGs2vdgjI/AAAAAAAAOEg/I-84Idp7fbc/s1600-h/clip_image002_thumb12.jpg)
Man Candy
The Cougar Journals
Book 1
Jewel Quinlan
Genre: Contemporary
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Date of Publication: January 9, 2015
Word Count: 13692
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Book Trailer: N/A
Book Description:
Commercial real estate agent, Ava Baldassari, is done with being a good girl. Recently having revamped her self-image, home and wardrobe she finds there is one thing left that needs updating; her sex life.
She runs into her friend and running partner, Cole, one night when she is out with a friend. A bit drunk she flirts with him and is surprised by the enthusiastic response he gives back.
Things reach a point where she has to make a decision whether or not to cross a line she never has before.
Ava is forty and Cole is twenty-five, is she really ready to become a cougar?
Where you can buy Man Candy:
Evernight Publishing | Amazon | All Romance e-Books | Barnes and Noble | BookStrand | iTunes or add it to your shelf on Goodreads
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he whispered in my ear, still pressed against me as he unzipped my dress.
Me too, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I was adrift in the onslaught of sensation as he slid the fabric from me, trailing kisses down my back as it went. Making me aware as I never had been of how sensitive the skin there could be. When he reached the small of my back, he lingered, kneading my skin with his tongue and teeth. His hands ran down my legs and then back up to my breasts, and I savored the feel of his fingers. My breaths came heavier. I had been needing this for too long.
He rose and turned me toward him, towering over me. His cap was gone and his dark hair was askew, as though he had run his fingers through it, giving him that sexy just-woke-up look. I slid my fingers from the waist of his jeans, underneath his shirt, to his muscled back. The ridges of strength there were too tempting beneath my fingertips. How did he find the time to work out that much? I had to see with my own eyes. Fisting the hem of his shirt in my hands, I pulled his t-shirt up to remove it. Why should I be the only one standing here naked? With a chuckle, he complied, lifting the shirt over his head and flinging it away in the casual manner of an underwear model on TV.
Sure, I had imagined what he looked like with his shirt off, but the reality was ten times better. He had a runner build, but that was filled out with muscle. The planes of his chest were topped by strong shoulders and arms, which seemed to blossom over the lean ridges of his abdominals, creating a definite contrast. I couldn’t help reaching out and touching him. I ran my hands over his skin, tracing my way upward to the light coating of black hair on his pectorals. He leaned his pelvis into me, forehead on mine, his erection pressing into me, making me shiver with anticipation.
We were on the brink of something oh-so-good, and I was dying to plunge ahead. Yet, I hesitated. Questions burned in my mind. I tried to hold them back, knowing serious talk would ruin the moment. That lasted about two seconds before I gave in.
“Um…” I said.
He lifted his head from mine and looked at me.
I cocked my head at him. “Did you just say you’ve been wanting to do this for a while?” Had he been scoping me out all this time, as I had him?
He nodded. “Who wouldn’t? Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
I glanced down at myself. My ample buxom looked perfect in the black, lace push-up bra I wore, and the matching thong sat just right, low on my hips. I still had on my red heels, which added a lady-killer effect.
Then I glanced at him. The smoldering look he gave me trumped anything I observed on the physical plane. The messages coming from him on a subliminal level promised pleasure that made me squirm with heat.
“You know it’s going to be good between us, Ava,” Cole said.
Jewel will be attending RomCon in Denver CO September 25-27.
Readers can get tickets to sit with her at the luncheon event, she would love to meet you!
Character Name: Ava Baldassari
Character Bio: Ava has had enough of being a good girl. Prior to the start of the story she revamped her wardrobe, car and lifestyle and is looking for similar change in her sex life. She is a commercial real estate agent and 40 years old but not dead yet. She is single and still wants to live her life and finds herself questioning all the boundaries and limitations that society puts on women in general.
Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?
Well, I’m Italian, so I have an innate passion that can be my best and worst enemy. On the one hand I can get really into a project like, say…redecorating my bedroom. But on the other hand it can lead to me repainting the room myself all night until it’s done.
What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?
Hm. That’s a tough one. I suppose it’s that even though I act tough on the outside I still have feelings and want to be treated like a lady.
What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?
I don’t normally like chocolate but once in a blue moon I get a craving for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Mixed with vanilla ice cream it’s to die for.
What are you most afraid of?
Never getting married. But when I have a steady flow of dates I don’t feel too worried about this one.
What do you want more than anything?
To have fun in life. I work so hard at my day job to make money that none of it would make any sense if there were no payoffs like vacation with a gorgeous man.
What is your relationship status?
Hot-and-sexy-single. Happy with life, and having fun.
How would you describe your sense of fashion?
It’s a mix of killer and classy. I have one simple rule when buying clothing for work. If I can’t answer yes to the question “Would I wear this to happy hour?” then I don’t buy it. That’s the invisible line between dreaded work clothes and work clothes that make you feel great.
How much of a rebel are you?
From the way my parents used go on and on you would think I was the world’s worst daughter. But most of my rebelling is against the standards of society. I refuse to be put into a box. I am determined to live my life the way I want it. The more I do what I want, the happier I have become, so I must be on to something.
What is your idea of happiness?
A high-end glass of cabernet, and an empty inbox, and a hot man who tops off my glass with more wine any time it gets low. In between he kisses me passionately but I won’t say where.
What is your current state of mind?
A little disconcerted after my night with Cole, who is fifteen years younger than me. There are just so many things to consider when taking a leap like that. It changes your whole mind set. But I don’t feel as disoriented as I thought I would. You know, like the way you feel after your first one-night-stand in college. It was an unusual encounter but I feel no guilt. It was more like a mind-stimulating push. Overall I was glad for the experience.
What is your most treasured possession?
My Porsche Cayman GTS. It’s my pride and joy. And is fully paid off so it’s mine. I often park it far back in the parking lot so it won’t get dinged by other drivers opening their doors.
What is your most marked characteristic?
My hair. It’s long, dark and glossy. That has to be it. At least once a day some random stranger comments on how beautiful it is. Sometimes I forget since I see myself in a mirror every day. But I’m glad people go out of their way to remind me what a gift I was given.
What is it that you, most dislike?
When people interrupt me while I’m eating. I tell you, customer service in the US has gone bats**t crazy! Why do I need three different people to stop by and make sure my food is okay? Just leave me the heck alone to eat so I don’t have to be rude and answer with a full mouth. If I need something, I will flag you down. We Italians aren’t shy.
What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?
Did I mention the Porsche Cayman? Lol. Okay, no, that’s not really it. For me it’s being able to
take care of myself. I used to hate asking my parents for money when I was a kid.
Which living person do you, most despise?
Reese Witherspoon. But it’s more like a love-hate thing. She’s so darn beautiful and sweet that I hate that I can’t be her.
What is your greatest regret?
That I didn’t revamp my life before now. Things would be so different now had I done this sooner!
What is the quality you most like in a man?
Confidence. I may get mad at an alpha male but I’ve never wanted to throttle one. Wimpy beta males who can’t make a move or a decision drive me insane.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
I like women who are go-getters as evidenced by my closest friends. We don’t sit around and cry about a relationship gone bad. We drag each other up on to our feet, by the hair, and move on to the next one.
Who is your favorite hero in fiction?
Thor. Does it get any hotter than that?
Which living person do you most admire?
Oprah Winfrey. Is there any greater example of a woman’s badassness?
If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
Nothing. I got to this point of my overall-great-life by being who I was made to be. Without the exact ratio of good, bad and ugly that I have I wouldn’t be who I am today.
What is your motto?
Don’t wait for your ship to come in. Swim out to it.
Jewel Quinlan had an abundant imagination and a strong desire to write novels from a young age. She particularly enjoys writing paranormal and fantasy romance but also writes contemporary as well.
An avid traveler, she has visited fifteen countries so far (which she enjoys using as settings in her novels) and has plans to see more of the world. She has a particular fondness for Bavaria and studies the German language as one of her hobbies.
During the day, she works as a pharmaceutical sales representative and, at night, she writes romance. She currently lives in Orange County, California with her dog Penny.
For more information about Jewel Quinlan
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr | Goodreads | Amazon | Instagram
Or join Jewel’s newsletter if you just want to get the most important updates
January 27, 2015
Book Blast & Giveaway: Knight in Highland Armor by @amyjarecki
Presented by:
Knight in Highland Armor - Highland Dynasty # 1 by Amy Jarecki Audience: Adult / Genre: Scottish Historical Romance / Formats: E-book and Paperback /Publisher: Rapture Books / Cover by: Kim Killion / Editor: Arran McNichol / Pages: 380 pages / ISBN: 978-1502390295 / ASIN: B00OQT919M / Date Published: Jan1, 2015.
Grieving from the death of his wife, Lord Colin Campbell listens to the cries of his newborn son whilst penning a missive to the king. With no marriage prospects, Colin petitions his majesty for help in finding a stepmother. Never again will he fall in love—the death of a woman brings more pain than losing a whole contingent of men on the battlefield. Feisty, quick tongued and smart, Margaret Robinson is delighted when her father receives a messenger from the king…until she discovers what news he brings. In a sennight, she will wed the notorious Black Knight—her life is about to end. Tension builds during the wedding and deteriorates from there…until an accident draws them together. Just when their love begins to blossom, a dire request arrives from the Pope. Colin must join the Crusades at once. Their fragile love is forced to withstand the seductions of hell—Margaret tempted by a scoundrel laird—Colin courted by Satan himself. Aye, the war for Christendom could very well ruin their dreams forever.
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Margaret reached into her purse to pluck a farthing when horse hooves pummeled the ground. Looking up, she scarcely had the chance to dash aside. Two riders thundered through the fete at a brisk canter. She tripped over her gown. The fruit flung from her basket as the horses sped past. Margaret crashed into something sturdy and hard. Her hands whipped around it, saving herself from falling. Her hood flew from her head and dropped to her back. It wasn’t until a pair of massive arms encircled her that she realized she’d fallen into a man—a very large, very strong man. She inhaled. The heady and exotic fragrance of cloves laced with a hint of ginger and male toyed with her insides. Struggling to drag her feet beneath her, Margaret made the mistake of grasping him tighter. His back muscles bulged beneath his quilted doublet. Her heart fluttered. “Forgive me,” she uttered breathlessly. His enormous hands held her shoulders firmly and helped her gain her balance. “Are you all right, m’lady?” Flustered, Margaret pushed away and smoothed her fingers over the white ribbon encircling her crown. She brushed her fingers down the length of her exposed tresses, cascading over her shoulder to her waist. First, her gaze leveled on his red tunic, with a white cross emblazoned on the center of his very broad chest. Then her eyes drifted to his face, framed by dun-colored curls. Beneath his cap, they shone like silk in the sun, and she wanted to reach up and touch them to see if his hair was actually as soft as it looked. Dark brown, wide-set eyes gazed upon her with a glint of humor. They were so friendly, her tension immediately eased. His features were undeniably masculine; his bold nose slightly bent toward full lips that grinned, revealing a row of healthy white teeth. “I…I am unscathed, thank you.” Margaret inhaled a stuttered breath and hoped to heaven she wasn’t blushing. “Please forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive. Those lads had no business riding through the fair at full tilt. I shall have a firm word with them.” “I’m sure they are long gone…” Margaret peered up at his feathered ermine cap—a fur only worn by Scottish barons like her father. “…m’lord.” She stepped back, taking in the whole picture. She’d seen the square white cross on his tunic somewhere before—it definitely identified him as a knight, though she could not place the order. Unusually tall, he had to be at least eighteen hands—six feet was enormous, especially compared to her five. He wore a stylish doublet of black beneath the sleeveless tunic. His woolen hose were also black, and they clung to his thighs like a second skin. His muscles bulged when he stepped toward her with fashionably pointed shoes. Mmm. ’Tis said clothes maketh the man. He bent down and retrieved her basket. “I believe this is yours.” “Thank you.” Margaret spotted apples and pears scattered everywhere. “But I’m afraid the fruit I’ve purchased is ruined.” He frowned and stroked his bold chin. “Most unfortunate. Please allow me to replace it.” “That should not be necessary. I only wished to help a poor man feed his family.” “Most charitable of you, m’lady.” He offered a polite bow. “If you no longer require my assistance, I shall be on my way.” “Very well. Should I fall again, I shall simply find another gallant knight to keep me from dousing myself in the mud.” “A lucky man indeed to rescue a lady as bonny as you.” He bowed again and tapped his fingers to his hat. “Good day, m’lady.” Margaret swooned, watching him walk away. Broad shoulders supported by a sturdy waist. To her delight, the knight’s doublet was short enough to give her a peek at his muscular buttocks. With a sigh, she smacked her lips while the crowd swallowed up the magnificent warrior’s form. If only her betrothed could be half as handsome. “Margaret,” Mother called from across the aisle. “Come, I have something to show you.” This time, she looked for racing horses before she set out. God forbid she fall into another knight. And heaven help her. On the morrow, she’d have to look upon such magnificent specimens with disinterested eyes. How on earth would she do that?
1. Opening scene with Colin Campbell, Lord of Glenorchy: MOONLIGHT SONATA by Ludwig van Beethoven 2. Introduction to Lady Margaret: FUR ELISE by Ludwig van Beethoven 3. Margaret at the Fete: REGINA – from Medieval & Renaissance Music Album 4. The Wedding Scene: TOCCATA AND FUGUE IN D MINOR by J.S. Bach 5. Traveling to Kilchurn Castle: BRANDENBERG CONCERTO by J.S. Bach 6. Margaret Plays her Lute: BANCHETTO MUSICAL SUITE NO. 3: Pavane 7. First Passionate Love Scene: NOCTURE IN C# MINOR by Frederic Chopin 8. Margaret realizes she must be strong: THE SELKIE, Celtic Harp Album, Aryeh Frankfurter 9. Colin sails to Rome: FULL RIGGED SHIP, Celtic Harp Album, Aryeh Frankfurter 10. Margaret alone and pregnant at Christmas: MARY DID YOU KNOW, Pentatonix (yay, a modern performance!) 11. Colin’s final battle on Rhodes: BETRAYAL AND DESOLATION, Braveheart Movie Soundtrack 12. The dark moment: ADHAN by Kevin Keller 13. Reunited: DAWN from the Pride and Prejudice 2005 Movie Soundtrack
Colin Campbell, 1st Lord of Glenorchy: Philosophy on life: Never settle with words what can be accomplished with a broadsword. Born: 1428. On 1st October, 1432, at the age of fourteen he received the title, Lord of Glenorchy. Height: 6’ Weight: 210 Build: Muscular in peak condition Distinctive features: Dun (dark blond) hair with a darker beard, brown, wide set eyes, bold, angular nose, full lips. Positive Characteristics: Confident, energetic, truthful, decisive, direct, loyal, protective, supportive, brave. Colin is an exceptional warrior. Negative Characteristics (at times): Insensitive, domineering, demanding, uncompromising. A Knight in the Order of St. John (Knight Hospitallers). He went on three crusades and was fabled as The Black Knight of Rome. Colin is an asserter, and feels in control when he can sit where he can observe everything going on in a room. He has a hard outer shell; he’s tough driving, and an introvert. After losing two wives, Colin proves he has a soul, but will Margaret discover he also has a heart? ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Margaret Robinson of Struan, Daughter of Baron and 4th Chieftain of Struan. Raised at Dunalasdair Castle on Loch Rannoch. Philosophy on life: Early to bed, early to rise, work like hell and you might survive. Born: 1433 Height: 5’ Build: Slender Distinctive features: Green, almond shaped eyes, long chestnut hair, beautiful skin. Positive Characteristics: Energetic, efficient, optimistic, industrious, self-propelled, practical, empowering, competent, responsible. Negative Characteristics (at times): Self-centered, pretentious, overly competitive, defensive. Margaret can withdraw when angry, but otherwise, she has a delightfully magnetic personality. She’s well educated for the times, and very sharp. She’s always setting new goals for herself, but prefers to avoid confrontation when possible. Youthful, Margaret is full of ideals, and loves visiting court where she can observe gentlemen in their finery—especially when wearing fashionably short doublets.
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Amy adores Scotland. Though she now resides in southwest Utah, she received her MBA from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh. Winning multiple writing awards, she is now focused on the genre of Scottish historical romance. Amy loves to write steamy edge-of-your-seat action adventures with rugged men and fascinating women who weave their paths through the brutal eras of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
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Tour Schedule - One Month Blog Tour for Knight in Highland Armor by Amy Jarecki from Jan 5 to Jan 31, 2015. Jan 5 Books, Authors, Blogs - Author Interview http://therightbook4u.blogspot.com Cherry Mischievous - Promo http://www.cherrymischievous.com/ Bound 2 Escape - Promo http://www.bound2escape.com 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too! – Promo http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com Jan 6 Coffee Books & Art - Promo & Guest Post http://sarityahalomi.blogspot.com/ Babu's Bookshelf - Review http://babusbookshelf.blogspot.com Once Upon a Coffin – Promo & Review http://onceuponacoffin.blogspot.com Jan 7 Imagine a World - Review http://www.thegoldenruleof666.blogspot.com Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog - Promo http://fictionalrendezvousbookblog.blogspot.com/ Jan 8 Cover Reveals - Promo http://CoverReveals.blogspot.com Rustys Reading - Promo http://www.rustysreading.blogspot.com Jan 9 A One-Click Addict's Book Blog - Review http://aone-clickaddictsbookblog.blogspot.com/ The Bookish & The Romantic - Promo http://thebookishandtheromantic.blogspot.com Dalene's Book Reviews - Promo http://dalenesbookreviews.blogspot.com/ Jan 12 Sweet Treat Reading Reviews - Promo http://strreviews.blogspot.com/ Jan 13 Girlygirlbookreviews - Promo, Review, Playlist & Character Bio's http://www.girlygirlbookreviews.com/ Jan 14 Kelly P's Blog - Promo http://kellyatx.blogspot.com/
Jan 15
Deal Sharing Aunt - Promo http://www.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com Eclipse Reviews - Promo, Review, Character Interview, Playlist & Character Bio’s http://www.eclipsereviews.weebly.com Jan 16 Stories and Swag - Promo & Review http://Storiesandswag.blogspot.com Room With Books - Promo http://roomwithbooks.com Jan 19 A Cauldron of Books - Promo, Top Ten, Playlist & Character Bio’s http://acauldronofbooks.info Ramblings From A Chaotic Mind - Review http://nikkibrandyberry.wordpress.com/ Jan 20 Angels with Attitude Book Reviews - Promo & Author Interview http://angelswithattitudebookreviews-joelle.blogspot.com Jan 21 The Avid Reader - Promo & Author Interview http://the-avidreader.blogspot.com Jan 22 The Idle Musings of a Writer's Mind - Promo, Top Ten, Playlist & Book Soundtrack http://theidlemusingsofawritersmind.blogspot.com Jan 23 Night Owl Reviews - Promo http://www.nightowlreviews.com/V5/Blog Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog - Promo http://fictionalrendezvousbookblog.blogspot.com/ Jan 26 The Phantom Paragrapher - Promo, Playlist & Book Soundtrack http://www.thephantomparagrapher.blogspot.com Jan 27 Patricia D. Eddy - Promo http://www.pdeddy.com Portals to New Worlds - Promo, Author Interview, Playlist & Character Bio’s http://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com Jan 28 Booky Ramblings of a Neurotic Mom - Promo & Top Ten http://bookyramblingsofaneuroticmom.blogspot.co.uk/ Jan 29 Movies, Shows & Books - Promo & Review http://moviesshowsnbooks.blogspot.com/ Bound 2 Escape - Promo, Review, playlist & Character Bio ‘s http://www.bound2escape.com Jan 30 Indy Book Fairy - Promo, Playlist & Book Soundtrack http://paranormalbookfairy.blogspot.com/ Darkest Cravings - Promo, Top Ten, Playlist & Character Bio’s http://www.darkestcravings.weebly.com/
January 26, 2015
New Release & Giveaway: In For The Kill by @shannonmckenna4
Romantic Suspense Date Published: January 27, 2015
Years ago, the McClouds and their friends rescued little Sveti Ardova from ruthless organ traffickers. Now she’s all grown up, and getting into some scorching trouble of her own . . .
NO SURRENDER The risks ex-cop Sam Petrie has taken have turned his life into a train wreck. So he has nothing to lose by doubling down as the elusive Svetlana Ardova’s unwanted bodyguard on her ill-advised trip to Italy. Her crusade against modern slavery has blazoned a bullseye on her chest, but when one of the death threats against her almost hits the mark, Sam’s protective instincts go into overdrive. Every lethal obstacle and trap they encounter ups the stakes—and the undeniable heat between them. Now they’re spiraling in on a deadly and explosive secret—one that could either redeem them or destroy them … and the closer they get, the shorter the fuse … Praise for Shannon McKenna "The McCloud series is an auto buy for me." --Maya Banks "McKenna writes intense, sensual stories." --The B&N Review "Shannon McKenna makes the pulse pound." –BookPage EXCERPT All yours. Sam's fantasy head rush was swiftly quenched when Sveti lunged for the door. He blocked her way. "No way." Her golden eyes widened, shocked. "You don't think you're keeping me in here, do you? You're not serious!" "You heard Tam," Sam replied. "You leave this room, and she comes after my balls with the bolt-cutters." Sveti's chest heaved, which highlighted her excellent nipple hard-on. "What Tam might do to you is nothing compared to what I will do to you if you try to stop me from walking out that door." Sam reached, and flicked the knob lock. "I'll take my chances." She crossed her arms over the nipple jut. "Wrong answer." "Yeah? What are you going to do to me? You got a pair of bolt-cutters under your skirt, too?" She snorted. "Most guys seem to think so." He admired the hot flush staining her cheekbones. "I don't." "Good for you. Congratulations. You're very brave. Now get out of my way. I can't stand being confined. Not after what happened to me." He waved that away. "Don't play the captive-waif-in-the-dungeon pity card with me. It's old and tired. Move on." Her jaw sagged, in utter shock. "You asshole!" "Yeah, sure," he agreed. "I have nothing to lose. You already think I'm a dickhead. Why not say whatever I damn well please?" Curling wisps of hair swayed around her chin as she shook her head. "I have bigger problems than your unrequited crush, Petrie!" "Burrrrrnnn," he murmured. "Tell me about those big problems, since we're shut in here together. You can start with the death threats." Her eyes slid away. "I do not want to discuss that." "Too bad. I say we do." A tense silence followed that statement. She flicked him a wary glance from under those long lashes. "You can't bully me," she said. "You think not?" he said. "Let's see about that. Spit it out. Who, what, where and when. Was it that sweatshop bust, six months ago? Those piece of shit snakeheads Helen Wong and Him Goh?" Her eyes went wide and startled. "How do you know about them?" "I watch the news, Sveti," he said patiently. "I'm a cop. I have friends. I hear things. Plus, you live-streamed, blogged and tweeted the whole thing to a hundred and twenty thousand followers." "And you are one of them, now? Spying on me?" He plowed right on past that one, there being no point. "Sneaking into that place with a live video camera on you was suicidal. You should have just passed the tip onto the police, and let them deal with it." Her chin tilted up. "There were thirty-four trafficked Chinese nationals locked in there, slaving eighteen hours a day! I saw my chance, and took it! People have to see for themselves. It's the only thing that makes it real for them! That's what pulls in the donations!" "You can't help anyone if you're dead," he pointed out. "But never mind that now. Just tell me about the death threats." "It was just a letter," she said, defensive. "Hand delivered. It said they were going to kill me. That's all. Nothing came of it." "When?" She shook it off. "Months ago, now." "So why aren't you guarded twenty-four seven?" he snarled. "I was! For months! Finally I put my foot down, because it was absurd, Sam. I can't live my life like that. Don't worry! It's covered!" Covered, his ass. But he knew a dead-end conversation when he heard one. He had lots of practice. Those were a Petrie family hobby. "Fine," he said. "On to the next item that's not my business." Her eyes dilated. He wished he had the super-senses they said Miles had now. His heart pounded too hard to hear hers, certainly at that distance. He started to close that distance, and she skittered back a pace. It took all his willpower to stay motionless, leaving none to hold back the incredibly ill-advised question. "If you don't want to talk about death threats, then tell me about your love life." Her mouth tightened. "I would rather not." "Tell me about loverboy. How long have you been seeing him?" "You mean Josh? I've known him ever since Nick rescued me from Zhoglo. He's a good friend." "Define 'friend," he said. "Does it mean, free to fondle your ass?" The chin tilted up a notch. "You're being invasive." "Yeah? Would you feel invaded to learn that he's hitting on two girls on the catering staff, in between groping slow-dances with you?" Her gaze dropped, but she did not look as startled or upset about that revelation as she ought to. "You have no right to judge." "Wrong," he informed her. "That ten minutes in Ranieri's home office two years ago. No matter how long ago, no matter how you've ignored me since then, that ten minutes gives me the right to give a shit. Tell me about Cattrell. Are you fucking him?" "No!" The denial popped out, vehement and breathless. "Planning to?" he persisted. If this was going to be the definitive crotch-kick of reality, then bring it on. Sveti's gaze dropped. He waited. "You're not involved with him at all," he said. "I told you," she said. "We're good friends." "And it doesn't bug you that he was fondling the wait staff." "No, not anymore," she said softly. "I've known for a long time that he doesn't have feelings for me that I'd, um. Hoped." Hoped? Sveti had hoped, and the guy hadn't delivered the goods? God. Cattrall must be brain damaged, not to hit on that. "He was touching you as if you were lovers," he said. "But you're not a ass-grab kind of girl. You asked him to do that for my benefit. He was a safe date, in case I came to smoke you out. Your human shield." Her color rose. "Wow, Petrie. You may be surprised to learn this, but you are not, in fact, the center of all my thoughts." "Tell me if I'm right," he persisted, though he was already sure. "Get out of my way!" She tried to push past him, toward the door. He grabbed her. He knew he shouldn't, but the part of him that knew had no say. The rest of him clamped onto her, nerves janging at the sweet shock of contact. Her heat and scent overwhelmed his senses, laced up into that tight cage of crimson satin. Straining away from him. Provoking a dangerous, animal urge to drag her close. Pin her down. "Let me go, Petrie," she said. "Or I start to scream." "You treat me like I'm a criminal lowlife, out to rape and pillage," he said. "I'm one of the good guys, Sveti." "Hah," she muttered. "There are no good guys." "We're all bad, then? You lump me in with Arbatov? Zhoglo?" The mention of the two mafiya Vors energized her struggle. He clamped her tighter against his body. Her heartbeat was so frantic and birdlike. She felt so fragile. But she wasn't. "I can't believe we're talking about my love life, when that monster is in the ballroom with my friends and their kids eating tempura dipped zucchini flowers! He's committed horrible crimes against innocents!" "You're not the only one who tries to protect the innocent." She sniffed. "Yes, of course. The police are so very noble." He waited for a moment. "Not fair," he said quietly. "We try." She looked down, abashed. "That is true, and I apologize," she said. "This is silly, Sam. I promise, I won't be rude to the criminals. I won't get myself or anyone else killed. Let go. Please. I'll be good." Now she was trying sweet reason. Who cared. She may have gotten a handle on her self control, but he most definitely had not. His grip did not slacken as he put words to the thought forming in his head. "You know what your problem is, Sveti?" She tilted a winged dark brow. "I imagine you're going to tell me?" "Your love life, the thing with Josh. Me. It's the same issue. You think sex is frivolous. The real deal is the big bad story of your life. Ogres trying to cut your heart out and sell it. The last minute rescue from a grisly death. The hell you went through gives your life purpose. It defines you. The rest is fluff. It doesn't deserve your full attention." "And you think you deserve my full attention, Sam?" "Yeah," he said baldly. "My full, undivided attention, all over every inch of your body, for a prolonged period of uninterrupted time." She shrank away. "I don't have time for games." "Yeah. Getting buried in a concrete bridge piling, that's Svetlana Ardova's idea of a good time. You must be lot of fun at parties, babe." "Fuck you, Petrie!" Ooh, hostile. "You have to let the past go," he told her. "Do I?" She shook with a bitter jolt of laughter. "Really! Wow, Sam, thanks for the insight! Like it's that easy! You have no idea." "You've still got to let go," he repeated stubbornly. "The evil Vor, the dungeon, the whole fucking horrible mess. You survived. It's over. The end. Stop dragging that ten ton weight around." "You don't know shit about it! You can't say that to me!" "Of course nobody can say that to you. That's why your love life is so hot and happening. All those unsayable things start to choke a guy after about ten minutes." "Let go of me, goddamnit!" She flailed furiously. "But I can say the unsayable. You already think I'm scum. I don't have to pretend to be anything but a dickhead. Ahhh. Freedom." "I never said you were a dickhead," she whispered. Happy news, but he wasn't getting cocky about it just yet. "Where do you get courage to say unsayable things?" she asked. "All the men I meet are afraid of me. So what makes you so brave?" He shrugged. "I don't know. Just dumb that way, I guess." There was a floor length mirror. He tugged her across the floor until they were reflected in it, right down to the pointy toes peeping out of the hem of her skirt. She made a distressed sound, and fought her arm free to fumble for a tissue, with which she tried to wipe mascara. "I scare you to death," he said. She somehow managed to look haughty while mopping up her nose with a tissue. "No, you do not. But you are very intense." "Just with you. Usually, I'm Mr. Mellow." "Oh, please. Mellow men do not become homicide detectives, Petrie. They become botanists, bicycle repairmen, mathmeticians, mindfulness bloggers. Organic gardeners. Zen monks." "Call me Sam." He bent to smell her hair, and she arched away, a tremor rippling through her body. "You don't have to be afraid of me." Laughter vibrated through her. She mouthed the word. Bullshit. His hand slid, over her warm curves, shadowy dips and hollows. He wanted to eat up her delicate scent. Devour it in one breath. Miles could break down those pheremones into their chemical components and list their molecular formulas. But for Sam, it wasn't chemistry. It was magic. Crazy, balls-deep enthrallment. "You just won't give me a break," he murmured, against her throat. "And I know why. You want to know my theory about you?" She flinched away as he cupped her jaw, letting her delicate wispy ringlets tickle his wrist. Insubstantial as a puff of breath. "No, Petrie," she said. "To be honest, not really." "I'm telling you anyway." He nuzzled the whorl of hair below her ear and dragged his lips over the edge of that crimson birthmark. "That day in Bruno's studio. It was too good for you." A burst of laughter shook her. "Really?" "It made you forget," he insisted. "For a little while, it was just you and me in the room. No evil Vor, no organ pirates. No past. No future." "Marco was there. In his crib," she corrected, primly. "Whatever. You're so wound up in this scary story of almost getting your heart ripped out. It defines you. It freaks you out, to be cut loose from that. It makes you feel lost. Scared." "Petrie, do everyone a favor, and don't take up psychology." "You lost yourself," he persisted. "I could help you find it again." The frown line between her brows deepened. "You're so arrogant." "That day when I touched you. You came so hard. I dream about it at night. Wake up shaking. Drenched in sweat. So fucking hard." She shook her head. "Please," she whispered. He rubbed his cheek against that loose, gleaming topknock. "It scared you, baby. You thought you were going to die. But you won't. I'll take care of you. You won't fall to pieces. Or if you do, it'll only be for a few seconds, and I'll hold you all together. I'll hold you so tight. I'll keep you so safe." He tasted her, trailing his lips down to her collarbone. "Sam," she breathed out. "Please." "I'll make it so good. I'll get you off like that, over and over. I won't be rough. I won't scare you, and I won't hurt you. Just . . . trust me." She looked up to meet his eyes. He went very still. The raw pain blazing out of them jolted him right out of his seduction schtick. "I don't know how to trust like that," she said. "I just . . . can't. I'm really not playing hard-to-get. You tempt me, yes. But I hold back because I just don't have what you want. It's not there, Sam." "What makes you think so?" he asked gently. She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. "That mechanism, it doesn't work, in me. I don't mean to be a tease, or cruel, or or disdainful. I never wanted to be a frigid bitch. It's sad and it's awful, but it's the truth. It's my reality, and I'm sorry if I . . . I'm just so sorry." He processed that. "So we'll work on it," he offered. "I felt a lot of potential, back there in Bruno's office. We'll fix it. No biggie." "No biggie, he says." Her voice was strangled. "Don't try to rescue me from my past. You'll just hurt yourself. It's bigger than you are." "How would you know how big I am?" She shot him a glance, and snorted, reddening. "I didn't say it," he crowed, delighted. "It was you." "English is not my first language," she said haughtily. "Don't try to trap me in word games. I will never get the joke." She wasn't pulling away. He stroked her shoulders, encountered the straps that held up the cups of gathered fabric that her perfect tits were nestled in. He flicked the ribbons down. Her eyes widened as the fabric slid down-catching on her nipple. She jerked her hands up- Or tried to. He caught them up short, staring into her eyes as the cups slid down to dangle over the shell of the bustier. She didn't fight, didn't flail. Just stood there, breath stuttering rapidly in and out. Her high, beautiful breasts bared to him. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. "I've lain awake nights staring at the ceiling, imagining you exactly like this." He felt his way, slowly. Using those secret senses that jolted to life only when she was near. Eyes and ears that opened only for her. He strained for more. He wanted inside her hidden depths, to take possession. He waited, savoring the tension, until he dared to risk sliding his hands up to cup her breasts, with fingers that trembled. A ripple went through her, then a sighing, barely audible moan. He caressed her, tender spiraling whorls over and around her taut, deep pink nipples, the soft plump under-curve, the tender fullness. So perfect. Springy, luscious. Suckable. But not now, because she'd rested her head on his shoulders, and the slight, warm weight of her head upon him was such a miracle of itself, he didn't dare mess with it. He inhaled her scent. Warm and spicy and sweet. Her hair had come unpinned, and the thick horsetail draped over his arm, making him wish his arm were bare. His sleeve blocked out the live heft of that heavy silken rope. His fingers buzzed. She was actually letting him touch her. It put him in a state of trembling, worshipful awe. She twisted around and looked up. Lips in reach. That was it, just like the last time. Conscious control vanished. She melted into him, arms twined around her neck. Oh, God, that sweet, tender inside flavor, the impossible softness of her lips. A swift glance yielded scant possibilities for taking this tryst horizontal. The floor was gleaming oak. Spindly legged chairs, tables with runners, antique breakables. No couches or lounges. So it was the wall again. He could deal with gravity. What was upper body strength for, after all. He scooped her up. A few steps, and he pinned her to the closest bare spot of wallpaper, fiercely intent upon tasting, touching, knowing more. He leaned to kiss her breasts, and she moaned, ribcage heaving, fingers twining in his hair. He lifted armfuls of skirt, slid his hand up her thigh. Hot, smooth. Stretchy lace, soft skin, filmy silk stretched over tender girl parts, the moisture seeping through. The heat, the wet. He couldn't wait to taste it. Lick it. Get inside. Deep inside. Oh God, now. The wanting was a huge, feral beast inside him, clawing to get out. Her thighs trembled. He slid his finger under the elastic, into silky golds that yielded sweetly, pressing deeper into a hot, slick paradise- Rap, rap, rap. "Sveti? Sveti! Petrie? You in there?" Rap, rap rap rap rap, louder and sharper. Tam's voice. A brief pause, and then again, rattling at the locked door. Rap, rap, rap. "Sveti? Goddamnit, answer me!" Her voice was sharp with alarm. Fuck. What, was he under some kind of a curse?
About the Author
Shannon McKenna is the NYT bestselling author of over ten action packed, turbocharged romantic thrillers, among which are the stories of the wildly popular McCloud series. She loves tough and heroic alpha males, heroines with the brains and guts to match them, villains who challenge them to their utmost, adventure, scorching sensuality, and most of all, the redemptive power of true love. Since she was small she has loved abandoning herself to the magic of a good book, and her fond childhood fantasy was that writing would be just like that, but with the added benefit of being able to take credit for the story at the end. Alas, the alchemy of writing turned out to be messier than she'd ever dreamed. But what the hell, she loves it anyway, and hopes that readers enjoy the results of her alchemical experiments. She loves to hear from her readers. Contact her at her website, http://shannonmckenna.com, or join the newsletter by signing up here: http://shannonmckenna.com/connect.php. Author Links Facebook Twitter Kensington Books Author Page Buy Links Amazon Amazon print Nook B&N print BAM Book Depository Google Play Giveaway $10 Amazon gift card a Rafflecopter giveaway
Book Blast & Giveaway: The Other Woman by @EveRabi1
BOOK INFORMATION Title – The Other Woman Author – Eve Rabi Genre – Modern Day Romance Publication Date – 27 January 2015 Publisher –Eve Rabi Cover Artist – Eve Rabi But Link - Amazon Kindle
BOOK SYNOPSIS Meet Rival and Scarlett. They used to be best friends, until Scarlett stole Rival’s husband. But unlike most wives, Rival refuses to turn the other cheek.
RIVAL MURDOCH (The Wife) Not only did Scarlett steal my husband, she also helped herself to my children, my friends and shattered all my dreams. She just fell into the life I took years to build, and is blissfully happy, while I have to start my life all over again. How can I not be angry and bitter?
These woman who steal husbands, destroy families and shatter dreams, why isn’t society doing something about it? Why are we allowing them to get away with it?
People say, “Move on. Living well is the best revenge.”
I don’t agree. I want revenge. It’s all I can think about.
SCARLETT SMYTH (The Mistress) If Rival didn’t want to lose Bradley to me, she should have tried harder to be a better wife. She could have started off by losing weight. I mean, she was married to a handsome and charismatic man who was going to be Australia’s next Prime Minister, and she was a size twelve! Twelve. That’s a whopping size forty-two in Italy and a giant eight in the U.S.! A body for a Dove commercial.
How dare she? How dare she have the arrogance to value bread and pasta and rice and noodles and potatoes and chocolate mousse over someone like Bradley Murdoch?
I mean, look at Posh – she’s a size zero. Why? Because she appreciates David. She does not in any way jeopardize her position as Almost Royalty.
And Angelina, clearly she forgoes carbs because those hip bones, they could put out Brad’s eyes, let me tell you. These women, they sacrifice to keep their men, to keep away predators like me and that’s how it ought to be.
I’m a size six, by the way. That would make me a four in the U.S., a five in Japan, a two in Canada, a four in the UK and a mere thirty-two in Italy, making me an extra-small, everywhere in the world, get it? It’s important that you do, because I work hard at my centerfold figure and I do believe I deserve recognition for it.
AUTHOR BIO
Eve Rabi lives in Australia, but she was born in South Africa.
She is the author of 25 books and is known for her kick-ass leading ladies, alpha males and no holes-barred love stories.
Oh, and let’s not forget about humour, it’s a must in her books.
To quote a smashwords.com reviewer: “When you pick up an Eve Rabi book, forget sleep. She writes gripping page turners that will keep you reading till the very end.”
Books that, like GRINGA, are sure to offend, entertain and amuse readers in various parts of the globe.
Please direct all hate mail and death threats to everabi2012@hotmail.com as she would really love to hear from you, good and not so good and please ...write a review.
WHERE TO FIND EVE RABI ONLINE Website – Facebook – Smashwords – Facebook – Twitter – Pinterest
GIVEAWAYWin a $20 Amazon gift card
New Release: Trigger by Jill Meengs
Trigger by Jill Meengs
Published by Booktrope
January 27, 2015
Genre: Spy Thriller
Jordan Shaw knows the only way to stop the man hunting her is to kill him. She also knows the other men who came after her are dead, some of their blood is on her hands, and she wouldn’t have survived this long without the help of the intriguing and secretive Chase Hudson. Even though she isn’t sure she can trust Chase, she believes she needs him to discover the truth. Two days before, life was pretty good as she backpacked around Europe with her best friend. Now, everything has changed and she may not even live through the night. What started as a summer trip of self-discovery has become a dangerous journey across three countries as Jordan is forced into a world few know exist and even fewer survive. A clandestine international organization that will let nothing stand in their way has put a price on her head. Despite all the uncertainty, there are two things that she is absolutely sure of; she has one chance to out-maneuver a world class killer, and she has to make that move right now.
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes
Book Blast & Interview: The Noir Dera by @authorrmgarry
The Noir Dera
Beacon of Sound
R.M. Garry
Genre: Paranormal Romance
ASIN: B00LSSP92C
Number of pages: 247
Word Count: 86,260
Book Description:
You can fight desire…
Marie DeLou doesn’t want to believe that her life is anything less than perfect. After all, how could it not be? She has a thriving mental health practice and a doting husband who loves her. Still, when a freight train of a man tears through her quiet existence, she has to wonder if things—and people—are not always what they seem to be.
…but there’s no stopping destiny
Prince Patrick Alvang of the Noir Dera has one job to do--to save the Beacon of Light, Marie DeLou, from the danger lurking within her walls. But between her smoking hot body and her equally fiery attitude, his task is a whole lot more difficult than he’d expected. Lucky for him, it looks like the only way to get to the finish line is to play dirty along the way…
Marie felt like throwing a party to commemorate the end of her crazy day. She had one client committed and had to stop another session early in order to get her last client to stop crying.
She changed quickly and was ready for the studio within 10 minutes of her last session. She put her new CD on and fought to get through the Brandon traffic.
Brandon, Florida had traffic at all hours of the day. It was as if the traffic Gods rejected the idea of a peaceful drive through the city.
Once she arrived at her studio, she bolted inside and locked the door. She pulled on her silky, beaded skirt and wrapped it snugly around her waist. She then tied a blue scarf to each wrist and began stretching. She turned on the stereo and let the magic begin. Marie started to relax as the sound of Anoushka Shankar’s sitar filled the small dance space.
She could feel the energy coursing through her body. The music threaded through the empty spaces in her spirit. She spun and danced to ISHQ and felt as if she was flying when “Dancing in Madness” floated out of the speakers.
She spared no expense when it came to her studio. It was a place where art came alive. Art and peace were flowing through her body when she saw someone standing outside the studio. Doctor Fallen Angel had come to pay her a visit.
Oh, this is surely the devil’s work.
She would not be decent to him. Refusing to pause the music, she released the deadbolt and let him in.
“Dr. Alvang, I want you to know that Marcel has sold you up the river. There is no way you’ll survive this.” She turned and walked to the center of the studio. She wound her hips to "Si No Puedo Verla" and waited for his response. “You will dance and not complain. You have invaded my peace and I will not give you anything until you’re broken by my music.”
Men hated to dance and she was prepared to mop the floor with the good doctor. Marcel was the only man that could keep pace.
Patrick didn’t hesitate. He walked up behind her and grabbed her by the waist. She relaxed into his hold for a split second. They danced like flames leaping to kiss the air.
It was flawless.
She became lost in the pain, pleasure, joy, and seduction of the sitar and the guitars. Patrick touched every inch of her and demanded that her body respond.
She backed away as her leg slid to his waist. He lifted Marie by the waist and positioned her closer. His palms were on the small of her back. The movement pressed their bodies close. There was no escaping.
It was as if he’d melted into her and bonded them together. The CD ended, and then, without warning, the song changed. Mark Rosas was singing "Higher" and Patrick continued dancing as if the shift in music was inconsequential.
She’d left that dance mix at home.
Why was it playing? The dubstep rhythm in the song gave him an opportunity to really show off. He lifted her into his arms again.
Patrick turned her toward one of the mirrors as he ground into her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his breath brushing against her ear. She was transfixed. Her eyes were glued to the mirror. Their bodies resembled an erotic oil painting.
Patrick pulled her in tighter and she melted into him. Their legs moved, but Marie was lost in the dance.
She heard Mark sing, “I just want to take you higher, com'n let me light your fire."
He spun her around and their eyes met. Patrick's were glowing cobalt beacons that held her gaze. His gaze remained locked on her as if mapping her every emotion. As the song came to an end, he slid her to the floor. And she came to rest in a kneeling position at his feet.
Did you always want to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?
As a child, I wanted to be a writer but was more passionate about becoming a doctor.
When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?
After writing numerous speeches, and poems for special family events, I decided that writing is my gift.
How long did it take to get your first book published?
The entire process to publish Beacon of Sound took two years. I had a habit of putting it on the shelf when life got in the way. When I finally dug in, the book was published within six months.
Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?
Currently, I am working on earning my Masters in Mental Health Counseling. My specialization focuses on supporting military families. I also juggle a full time just so I can pay the bills job.
What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?
My latest book is The Book of Love Unbound. I still have quite a bit of work to do before it can be ready for editing. My goal is to have it published by the end of the year. I will also be completing the second book in The Noir Dera Series.
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
I am a self-published author.
How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?
In a perfect world, I could finish a full novel in three months. In my world of kids, work, and school, a story can take up to six months to complete.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
I love writing paranormal and contemporary romance novels, but have this crazy story line running around in my head. It is about a woman who happens to be a living weapon. I will keep my readers posted.
What genre would you place your books into?
What made you decide to write that genre of book? The only way to control all the things that go bump in the night, is to right about them. Writing paranormal novels keeps me from checking the closets at night. Yes, I still check my closest.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
My favorite character is Marie. She is full of fire. Marie will take a bad situation and make it worst. She is very human which gets in the way of her good judgment.
How long have you been writing and who or what inspired you to write?
I have been writing since childhood. My mother inspired me to write. She would spend the last few dollars of her paycheck to buy me books. She started my journey into the world of books.
Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?
I read every single review. It gives me an opportunity learn from my readers. I was terrified but over time, I learned to just take it all with a grain of salt.
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
I choose and change the title throughout the time I am writing. The Book of Look Unbound had three different titles before I finally picked one. The second book in The Noir Dera series is going through the same identity crisis.
Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?
I start listening to the character from the moment my work begins. What does the character want the world to know? My character Marie wanted to show the world her ability to live past her childhood trauma. Marie is bossy, loving, stubborn, and sexy. Every time I read the story, I know Marie's voice was true to my vision.
Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")
The Noir Dera series has one message. Live your truth every moment of the day. Marie spent so much time hiding from her true nature that it nearly destroyed her life.
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
I am a book hog. I take books in all formats. My collection is bigger on the eBook side, but I prefer paperbacks for certain series.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
My favorite book is Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The characters seem to come to life every time I read it. The journal style format was ingenious. I read it at least once a year. I also watch the movie once a year.
Your favorite singer/group is?
I am on a Hozier kick. I have to listen to the whole album at least once a day. There are numerous artists and bands I am obsessed with. Fall Out Boy, Halestorm, 2 Cellos, Maxwell, and Sia are some of the artists I cling to. I am madly in love with music.
Your favorite color is?
Blue is the only color that matters. All of the other colors just show up for the party.
Your favorite Author is?
Again, I have an enormous list of favorites. My readers will hear about upcoming work from my favorites via twitter and Facebook. Anything from Mimi Jean Pamfiloff, Christina Lauren, Karen Marie Moning, R.L. Mathewson, and Suzanne Wright are automatic downloads for me. My Stephen King and Anne Rice novels are only purchased via paperback. If you were to look at my libraries, the list of authors I read could wrap around the state of Florida.
R.M. Garry lives with her three male children a.k.a the wolf pack and her husband of 12 years.
Writing allows her to maintain her sanity while juggling her world.
Her goal is to give readers a brief escape from the realities of their world.
When she isn’t writing, R.M. is reading and keeping up with her favorite authors.
For updates and book information readers can visit
Twitter: @authorrmgarry
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rmgarry
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/RMGarry
Word Press Blog: http://authorrmgarry.wordpress.com/
January 25, 2015
Book Blast–Sanctuary by @P_Creeden
BOOK INFORMATION TITLE – Sanctuary SERIES – Sanctuary AUTHOR – Pauline Creeden GENRE – YA Thriller/Science Fiction PUBLICATION DATE – Sept 2013 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 268 pages PUBLISHER – AltWit Press COVER ARTIST – Najla Qamber
BOOK SYNOPSIS First Place Winner of 2014 Gold Award Readers Favorite YA Horror First Place Winner of 2013 Dante Rosetti Award in YA Fiction What if the Biblical End Times unfolded in a way no one told you about and the rapture didn't happen before the tribulation began... "Makes you afraid of the end times again." - D. M. Dutcher for Sword Cross Rocket "Sanctuary crosses boundaries and borders and incorporates elements of all kinds of action and intrigue, from thriller-like adventure to a post-apocalyptic tale of life after aliens invade. Thus it will delight readers seeking something truly different, while disappointing those who anticipated a shallow, one-dimensional subject and story line." - Midwest Book Review Left Behind for the Hunger Games generation In a heart-racing thriller described as Falling Skies meet The Walking Dead, Jennie struggles to find a safe place for what’s left of her family. But it seems as though there is no place sacred, no place secure. First the aliens attacked the sun, making it dimmer, weaker, and half what it used to be. Then they attacked the water supply, killing one-third of Earth’s population with a bitter contaminate. And when they unleash a new terror on humankind, the victims will wish for death, but will not find it… When the world shatters to pieces around her, will Jennie find the strength she needs to keep going? BUY & TBR LINKS AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK – AMAZON PAPERBACK – BARNES & NOBLES PAPERBACK –
GOODREADS
EXCERPT When Jennie reached the back door, she saw them. Four large dog-like creatures with pinched faces like bulldogs and lion-like manes. They snarled, and one of them leapt at the window on the top half of the door when it saw her.
Jennie jumped back and fell hard on the cold tile floor. The bottle of painkiller bounced across the kitchen tiles. The creature slammed against the window a second time, cracking it. She blinked hard. Her heart sunk, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. A horrendous gargling howl rent the air, causing a shiver down her spine. She held her breath and waited for the creature to slam into the door again.
“What on earth?” she whispered to herself.
When the third attempt never came, she scrambled toward the door. Blinking hard, she used the door knob to help herself stand. Out the cracked window, her mother was still out of sight, but the last of the dogs headed across the field behind her backyard.
“MOM?” Jennie called out.
The rumbling faded, and the vibrations in her chest receded with the dogs. She pulled open the door and rushed onto their back deck. “Mom, where are you?”
When she reached the banister, she looked over the side. Her mom lay sprawled with one hand on the lattice. Blood gushed from Mom’s leg and her opposite arm. Jennie’s ears rang and flooded with every beat of her heart.
Jennie didn’t know how she got to the second floor of her house, but she found herself shaking her sleeping father. How had he slept through the rumbling? “Outside, it’s Mom…”
Her father leapt from the bed. Mickey, her little brother, lay asleep and undisturbed. Dad ran down the stairs and outside in his flannel pajama bottoms and white t-shirt. He scooped Mom up to his chest and carried her inside. Blood stained his shirt in crimson.
“Jennie, call 911!” Her father had said it at least three times before it finally registered in her brain.
She pulled the cell phone from her pocket, but it refused to connect. With a groan, she grabbed the cordless from the wall receiver, glad her heart stopped pounding in her head so she could hear.
“All operators are busy at this time,” a mechanical voice deadpanned, “Please stay on the line, and the next available operator will take your call.”
“They have me on hold, Dad. Should I hang up and try again?” She held the phone in both hands away from her face.
“No, just stay on the line.” Her father lifted the shredded jeans from Mom’s leg. “It looks like a shark bite. What on earth happened?”
Jennie took in the damage through tear-filled eyes. A huge chunk was taken from her mother’s calf, exposing the fibrous tendons that covered the bone in her leg. A bloodstain grew on the beige couch. Was she going to die? Panic rose up.
“What happened, Jennie?”
“I...I...They looked like lions, or dogs, or something. The rumbling shook the whole house…I tried to go outside to get Mom, but—” A sob blocked her throat.
Her father grabbed a throw pillow and held it against the leg. Mom’s exposed forearm laid across her chest in much the same condition as her calf.
“Grab me the duct tape.”
Jennie suddenly remembered the phone, put it back to her ear, and headed to the hall closet. She reached for the shelf above the jackets and grabbed the junk basket next to the toolbox.
“Please stay on the line. An operator will be with you shortly.”
She shoved the phone in the crook of her neck and fished through the box. Half the contents dropped around her feet. Who cares? When her fingers wrapped around the silver duct tape, a short-lived relief sent prickles down her arms. But the urgency gripped her chest in less than a heart beat, and she threw the junk basket on the ground with the rest of the items.
“Hurry, Jennie!” her father called from the living room. “And turn on the TV. Maybe they’ll have something about what’s going on.”
She handed her father the tape and turned toward the TV. The mechanical voice on the phone came through again, followed by more easy listening.
When she clicked on the TV, the shouting and wailing began before the picture warmed up on the screen. A sideways picture of New York City broke through, with the shaky voice of the newscaster voicing over.
“What we are watching now – I can’t believe it – is live footage of Times Square,” the newscaster’s voice paused for a deep breath. “We’ve lost our man on the scene and his camera man to what appears to be some kind of new alien creature. Just a short half-hour ago, the doors to the ship that hovered above Central Park opened and these dog-like creatures flooded out.”
Jennie couldn’t pull her eyes from the screen. She straightened and dropped the phone on the hardwood. The battery popped out and skidded across the floor.
AUTHOR BIO Pauline Creeden is an award-winning author, horse trainer, and overall book ninja. She becomes the main character in each of her stories, and because she has ADD, she will get bored if she pretends to be one person for too long. Armored Hearts, her joint effort with author Melissa Turner Lee, has been a #1 Bestseller in Christian Fantasy and been awarded the Crowned Heart for Excellence by InDtale Magazine. Her debut novel, Sanctuary, won 1st Place Christian YA Title 2013 Dante Rosetti Award and 2014 Gold Award for First Place YA Horror Novel. AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS Website - Facebook - Twitter - Goodreads -
Pinterest
January 23, 2015
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Blood and Spirits by @witlesslackey
Blood and Spirits
The Coming Storm
Book One
Dennis Sharpe
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Publisher: Booktrope Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-62015-595-0
Number of pages: 220
Cover Artist: Shari Ryan
Book Description:
Small-town life can be hard for a dead girl…
For Veronica Fischer the night to night life of a bloodsucking madam in Middle America is tough enough before she adopts Rachel Gregory, an eight year old ghost.
After her house is set on fire and Rachel disappears, all signs point to foul play. When she finds herself with a hit out on her unlife and warrants for her arrest, it becomes clear she’s going to need help.
Now she has to contend with horny zombies, violent spirits, and murderous grave robbers if she’s ever going to find Rachel and discover the awful truth of the coming storm.
A raucous ride through the dangerous lives of the lecherous undead.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/95oy3Sxf370
Chapter 1
I’m told it’s an oddity that I still sleep. It only comes in short bursts, no more than forty-five minutes at a time. Most others with my condition, and I have only known a handful, tell me they don’t sleep anymore. Some of them haven’t in more than five decades. I can’t imagine the hell that must be. Even in my brief moments of rest, I still dream and in that I find relief. Even if the dreams aren’t what I like, they are still an escape.
The soft thickness of my comforter envelops me as I relax back into bed. Before I’m completely awake, my mind begins to unfold, opening to the world around me. In the distance, the fog is rolling in off the river, dense and blanketing, its vaporous fingers right there on the edges of my consciousness. The night is cool, and the last lights of the dying day dance across my ceiling, reflected from the crystals hanging in my window. The light tinkle as they sway into each other is a reassuring sound; the beautiful prisms they cast, a blessing. Not one night comes that I don’t wake to thank Jules for having the windows in this house ‘treated’. I can actually see the sun, even if I can’t be out in it.
I am now completely aware for miles around me. I’m awake, and not even grudgingly so. Not tonight. He’ll be here soon. I look forward to it and fear it all at once, but I ask myself ‘why dwell on what we can’t change?’
A soft breeze blows across me as I slip out of my bed, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand out. My mind recognizes the sensation as a chill, even if my dead flesh can’t feel as it once did.
Rubbing a hand down from the base of my skull, in a futile attempt to warm myself, I open the lid to the old steamer trunk Julie brought up from the basement today. She aired out everything in it while I slept, and the interior smells as though she even put some of my perfume on a few of the choice garments. I breathe in deeply and can the corner of my mouth turns up slightly. Time may have dulled Jules’ scent, but it’s still unmistakable, mingled in with the fragrance in the clothing.
Clothes have always held memories for me. The crimson silk of a dress drops down over me and it’s as though his eyes were on me again. The mirror reveals the garment to be no more out of place, for its slinky cut or lack of length, than it did when I first wore it a lifetime ago, when I could still remember being a girl. I first put it on in front of him and twirled around to raise the hem, hoping to entice and astonish with my feminine wiles, foolish enough back then to believe that because I loved him, a creature like him was even still capable of love.
I’ve learned from his example and years of my own mistakes – emotion is a weakness to be managed.
Yet, here I am, slipping into this dress that I haven’t worn since he left, simply because I know he’ll remember it.
Stepping out into the thick evening air, the raw power of the river hits me with the force of a freight train. Even from this distance, the power is unmistakable. Tonight, though, it has an odd feeling, as though it were restrained.
Standing still with my eyes closed, I concentrate and listen to the pulse of the water rolling heavily over the rocky bed, feel the lapping, almost angry waves against the shoreline. I don’t know why closing my eyes helps me bond to my surroundings, it just always has. It must be another facet of my insanity.
I’ve never met someone with my affliction that was as sane as they had been when they were alive. I wasn’t ever all that sane, either, but I’ve grown more detached as time has gone by. Too often these days, I feel like a spectator. Maybe that’s just my ‘coping mechanism’. My therapist would love to know about this fabulous train of thought. Prick.
As I enter the garage, it occurs to me that I’ve only got two cars at this house. Frank was to take Julie back to town with the Charger this afternoon to keep up the appearance that everything was normal. I’m certainly not taking my old Volkswagen Beetle to go bar hunting, so the flat black Eclipse will get a work out tonight. I hate this car, but she’s been fast enough to outrun a lot of demons I didn’t feel like facing.
Pulling out of the driveway, I already wish I’d stayed at the other house today. The drive into town is only thirty minutes, but I’m tense enough tonight and don’t need the wait. Telling myself that I needed to be here, for safety’s sake, only makes me feel more upset at my fear and lack of control.
Six months ago, I’d have talked to Lucy; she’d have taken the edge off. If she were here, though, I’d have had no need to contact Jules. Now I get to feel like a failure and look like one, too.
The tires scream as I kick the car almost sideways, narrowly avoiding a deer. My lack of focus is getting worse. As much as the idea repulses me, tonight I’m actually going to have to go look for food instead of letting it come to me. I haven’t had to do that in years. On one hand, it’s a fitting start to the night, but on the other, I had really thought I’d outgrown eating out.
I always forget how much sensory input I lose when I spend time around all the steel and pavement. The dark moonless drive down rural roads is a blessing, putting me more in tune with the land, at once one with the leaves on the trees, the bats overhead, and the rocks around the base of the roadside.
The sound of the insects in the high grass is comforting. Their flittering finds my ears even over the engine noise. They are mine as much as everything else here; as much as I am a part of them. It took more than twenty years to reach this level of awareness, and I’m still not foolish enough to believe I’ve mastered it.
I used to be able to spend time expanding my mind. I used to do a lot of things I haven’t been able to do lately. Everything has devolved so fast and I’m still reeling.
The past year I’ve been so caught up in the life of a dead girl, I’ve dealt with little else.
Rachel died eighteen months ago at the ripe old age of eight; I met her after that. She was hanging around the Jefferson House, where my girls work. If she hadn’t picked that place to haunt, I doubt I’d be in the mess I’m in now.
The town springs up slowly. Houses begin to sit closer together, then nearer to the road. Side streets appear, and businesses start to intersperse among the spider web of tight residential development, obviously undertaken with no real planning or forethought. Then, at last, the glow of the streetlights tells me I’m back where I’m in control. This is the town I run, inside and out. Or I did.
Passing the street that leads to the Jefferson House, it takes will not to turn. I want to check up on things, but personal priorities come first and I have to trust Julie has everything well in hand.
The dulcet tones of a southern rock cover band blare from six blocks away tingling my eardrums. The music is louder than usual. It should be a fun night, or at least a packed house. Either way, I’m content.
The transmission voices its complaint as I downshift onto the access road. I’ll never really like this car, but she does get from A to B more quickly than most. I still wish I’d driven something nicer tonight, something with a top I could put down. But, in the end, the car I’m in is the least of my concerns right now.
The lot isn’t full yet, leaving plenty of good spaces, but rock star parking wasn’t really a concern of mine to begin with. This just means that after I eat and pick him up, I should be able to get back here to a manageable crowd.
If I’m lucky, he’ll want to be social tonight. If not, then I’ll be too busy to make it back here at all. I really want to show him that the biggest part of my life is still under control, so he won’t only see the little girl that has to call him in as her savior. Again.
Why do I need so badly for him to be proud of me?
As I cross the parking lot, the lingering scents of sweat, cheap beer, and longing hang heavy in the air already. This might be a little too easy. Though catching a fresh meal has never been really what I’d call difficult. That’s why the small town, Midwestern life suits me; I usually get what I want and rarely have to work that hard to have it. Hopefully, years of having my food delivered hasn’t left me too out of practice.
Someone sees me coming and opens the door and holds it for me. That’s the thing about being a regular in a small town rural bar – you are a known commodity, more or less. This helps and hurts when you have to hunt for food where you also gather socially. Like a balancing act. Some are good at it; some are not. Those who have been less than good at it around here, I’ve had to deal with. No one pisses in my pool even once and gets to do it again.
There’s a big cowboy at the end of the bar, a couple bikers near the pool tables, and a few burly construction workers at a table. After only the briefest pause, my route is clear in my mind. The first taker is my next victim. I really love playing this game. Maybe I’m not so rusty, after all.
I don’t get the chance to make it very far. As I pass the bar, in my peripheral vision, the dark brown of the cowboy hat moves in my direction.
“Now this is why I came out tonight. A good looking girl in tight fitting dress!”
The booming words come projected from the stout bear of a man standing at the end of the bar undressing me through his beer goggles.
The cowboy it is; he’ll make a full meal.
I do my best to fake a blush, while acting interested and offended all at once. Pretending to care what men think is an art. It takes moments to learn, but lifetimes to master. I’d like to believe I’m an expert.
I walk over to him smiling but with my eyes downcast. “My name’s Veronica. Who are you, handsome?”
He puffs up in his detail-stitched denim shirt, pushing out his barrel chest in a vain attempt to hide his well-tended gut. He’d be fairly good looking if he didn’t obviously take such pride in how good looking he thinks he is.
“They call me Buck, and if I could I’d like to do a lot more than buy you a drink.” he slurs slightly at me.
He motions to the bartender for another round and I do my best to blush again, this time giving a halfhearted laugh at his insipid comment.
“Here ya go, darlin’.” He hands me a Jägerbomb and tries to force it to my lips “Bottoms up, baby!”
He reminds me why I live in a small town; this corn-fed hick really thinks he’s irresistible. Well, who am I to disappoint? I down the drink like a good girl going bad, exhale deeply, and lean over into him, letting my neckline plunge as it was designed to do. As old and tired as this dance is, I really do love his eyes on me. Some things never change.
“Now, that was worth it, wasn’t it?” he asks me proudly. “Buck won’t steer ya wrong.”
“We can go somewhere more private if you’d like…Buck,” I whisper softly in his ear, pulling back almost as slowly as the wicked grin spreads across my face. His perverse smile hides nothing. I have him now – hook, line, and zipper.
Money changes hands as we exit the bar. I laugh a little out loud while remembering the lack of faith I’d had in my abilities. I try to lead him to my car, but he’s intent on going to the alley behind the building. I try to convince him, sliding my hand slowly down over the large oval belt buckle with his name on it. But he’s convinced the alley is what excites him, and I don’t want to take the time to change his mind so I follow along.
It begins subtle and playful, but it’s clear that’s not what he’s in the mood for. He pushes me down onto my knees in a matter of seconds, quickly wrapping a hand in my hair and beginning to jerk my head back and forth violently.
He couldn’t hurt me if he tried so I let his game continue on his terms. Using my mouth like a cheap sex toy is a bit insulting, I guess, but I don’t need to breathe so I’m not gagging or choking. As always, I’m here to get what I need, and so I’ve gotten used to allowing them what they need. I look at it like my public service, or my good deed.
I could just take what I want and be done, but that generally leads to more problems than I want to deal with. I’ve even grown bored with the games of superiority and subservience. I let them feel dominant, and powerful. It’s the least I can do, really. Besides, the heightened state of arousal makes them taste better, even if most of them could use a lesson in hygiene.
It’s been so long since I did this in public. It might even be a little exciting if I weren’t so anxious, or if Buck were more attractive.
I’m only vaguely aware of the fact that he’s calling me a dirty whore. A little laugh flitters inside that he would call me dirty; the irony is lost on him but not me. I’ve almost completely tuned him out, focused on the job I’m here to do.
And then he makes a mistake; he hits my face, hard. If I were still alive, it would have done some damage, broken bone, maybe even knocked me out.
This isn’t playful anymore – this bastard actually likes to hurt women – now, I’m done playing.
I pull back slowly from him, looking at his fist wrapped around what looks like a roll of quarters. He’s using every ounce of strength and leverage he has to try to hold me on my knees. He has no more effect holding me down than the weight of my clothes. His eyes begin to widen and he lets go of my hair as I rise slowly and determined. His fist is still drawn back, but we both know he’s not going to swing. I’m going over all the painful ways I can drive home the point that he doesn’t get to hurt the girls he plays with, all the while considering how much I love this dress and don’t want to ruin it.
Standing in front of him I wipe his liquid from the corner of my mouth and stare deeply. I can see the panic in his eyes. I can smell his fear, deep, rich and growing, and for the first time tonight, I’m actually aroused.
“Now, Buck, what could possibly have made you think that was a good idea?” I ask in a cool and controlled voice.
“Get back on your knees whore! I ain’t paying you to fucking talk!” He spews the words out loudly, in a vain attempt to regain control as he tries to force me back down with one hand, while still menacing with his fist. He only succeeds in ripping my dress.
Not this dress, not tonight. He’s decided it for me; tonight is the end of his story.
“I’m used to the rough stuff, Buck.”
In an instant, I have his throat in my hand and his back against the wall. He’s beginning to shake as he draws back to swing.
“I was just going to let you off with a little pain and a warning about hurting working girls, and look what you’ve done.”
The fear pours off of him in waves as I disregard his raised fist and calmly show him my torn dress. It’s enough to make even my body react involuntarily to the stimulation. “You want a pretty girl to throatfuck, you pay for it. We’re all good. You like it a little rough, that’s fine. But slapping a girl around hard enough to actually hurt them? We just don’t do that, Buck. You’re incredibly lucky I don’t bruise easy.”
I flash him a smile and for just a moment I can see he thinks it’s all going to be okay.
“We had a perfectly good deal worked out, and now you’ve ensured that I’m the last thing you’re gonna see, and given me the extra work of dealing with your corpse.”
He shudders and wets himself.
It really is dirty how hot this has gotten me. I’ll blame it on my state of mind, certainly not wanting to give this bastard any credit.
I peer deeply into his eyes, and his mind unfolds to me. I see all that he had planned for me; I know all that is ‘Buck’. The last restraint I had left is gone. He’s from out of town, no one here knows him, and only his trucking company will miss him.
I apply just a touch more pressure, and with a flick of my wrist, he goes limp. I let go and he crumples to the ground in a heap. Quick and painless is better than he deserves, but I’m pressed for time.
I drink from him what I need and leave him piled up behind the dumpster. At least he’s served his purpose, even if he was more trouble than I’d planned on.
Why this dress? Any other dress he could have ripped and he’d still be breathing. Clearly, I’m too stressed out.
I dial my cell and wait, more than a little irritated when I get voicemail. “Frank, you really need to call me back. I have a pick up for you and it’s time sensitive. Remind me again why I keep you on payroll?”
I walk back up to the end of the alley and wait for my phone to ring. The straps on the left shoulder of the dress are ripped completely out of the back and there are two deep tears where they had been attached. This is what happens when you have to rush. Things don’t go as planned, and then shit gets broken.
“Can I help you with that?”
His voice is steady, soft, and scares me almost out of my skin. This is why I pay him so well.
I turn to face him and am a bit taken aback to see him dressed in jeans and a wife-beater. He’s never this down-dressed, even when I tell him to be.
“Not with my dress, but you can wrap that up,” I fume, nodding my head back down the alley to what remains of Buck. “And make it disappear.”
Frank O’Leary looks like what a Greek god should look like. Chiseled out of stone; an example of everything that makes a man attractive. His mane of auburn hair, always perfectly messy, hangs down between his shoulder blades. Like all men who look this good, Frank has no interest in women. He also has very few morals, a deviously creative mind, and an unequaled love for money. That serves to make him an irreplaceable asset. I keep telling myself I can never trust him completely, but he’s too smart to bite the hand that pays for his lifestyle.
Also, despite my attempts to keep him at arm’s length, I’ve grown attached to him over the years.
He stares, one eyebrow raised, at the boots jutting visibly out from behind the dumpster and nods. “Any particulars on how he disappears or just ‘out of sight out of mind?’”
“Just make it fucking happen, Frank! I don’t have time for bullshit tonight!” As soon as the words escape me, I’m aware they’re harsher than he deserved.
The look on his face says it all. He understands. He’s not happy about it, but he knows why I’m stressed and he’ll accept it for now and hope that things will get better.
“He is coming in tonight, then?”
“Should be here in about an hour.”
I really have to get back to the old me, and soon. I know better than to kill this close to where I go to relax. I know he knows that, too. It felt good to destroy that piece of shit, and save generations of women from having to deal with him, but I still know better.
Frank looks down the alley again, then back to me and holds out a set of keys with a silver skull keychain. He knows me too well. I take the keys to the Charger and hand him back the ones to the little flat black speedster.
“How much gas does she have?” he asks, still looking down the alley, sizing up the job.
“You need to get some.” I call back at him, already walking toward the emerald-green muscle machine. “You’re on fumes.”
He’s muttering under his breath as I get in, but his voice is less than a whisper and it gets lost under the deafening roar of the engine coming to life. I put the top down and back her out slowly while checking my watch. Not much time left.
I leave the lot and the mess behind me, able to count on Frank. I have to get to the airport, and make sure everything is secure before his plane lands.
What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?
The Title of the book is Blood & Spirits.
For the summery, I got down to 12 words:
Small-town Midwestern vampire madam versus vampires, ghost and zombies (oh, my!)
I think that hits the broad strokes. What do you think?
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
I published Blood & Spirits through Booktrope, but I've worked with a couple of smaller presses in the past, and I've self-published as well. With the publishing industry being the way it is today, and heading in the directions it has been, I can't imagine anyone who wanted to get their books out to the world and to their readers, not evaluating what the best path for each work individually would be.
What genre would you place your books into?
Fantasy? Paranormal? Thriller? Science Fiction?
I write a lot of books, and they don't all come close to fitting into just one genre… outside of fiction.
Blood & Spirits follows the happenings of Vampires, Ghosts, a Zombie, and some other assorted people in a small town in the Midwestern US. It's dark and gritty. Paranormal seems the best term to use for it, but there's a lot more to the story than just the paranormal.
What made you decide to write that genre of book?
I've read Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, Poppy Z. Brite, and Laurell K. Hamilton from years back, not to mention the pop culture I gravitated toward for years with movies like The Lost Boys and Near Dark. I've been a fan of the vampire genre… and more so a fan of the monter/human conflict in storytelling and what that can do as a literary vehicle, for almost as long as I can remember.
I've never tried to publish anything in that vein, however, until more recently, and if I'm honest, I'd have to say the reason for moving toward publishing these stories now (as opposed to letting them sit in notebooks and stacks of papers and scratched and scribbled notes on a shelf in my bedroom) I'd have to say it could be summed up in a single word:
Spite.
I wanted to read the darkness. I wanted to read the gritty, dirty, and messy side of the monster set in opposition to humanity. I saw a lot of cute and funny or shiny and sparkly vampire stories being told, but I didn't see enough of the kinds of tales I'd like to read out there. So, out of spite, I decided that I'd dust off my old stories, do some research and update them, and see if there was room in the marketplace for the bloodsuckers I wanted to read about. The result? Blood & Spirits. It's book one of a series of novels I wrote to tell the stories of the monsters and men, told in the way that I wanted to read them.
Now, I just have to hope that others want to read them as well. I think there's room in the market place for vampire stories like these.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
I like and don't like all of the characters I write. There are varying degrees, of course. If I had to pick a favorite character from Blood & Spirits, beyond V (who is the obvious choice), I'd have to say Sunny was the one. She was an absolute pleasure to write. I was a little sad that with the way the editing worked out she didn't make it into the story as early as I had originally intended, but I think she works just fine the way she sits.
How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?
I've been writing since before I can really remember. I was reading, and then in no short order I was writing (thanks in no small part to my Mother), at least two years before I started my formal education. I've been a writer, in one form or another, as long as I can recall being alive. It's just the way I've grown, as a person, and I can't imagine life any other way.
As to what inspires me, well, that would be too long a list to really get into in detail. I am inspired, in general, by life. From the people I see and hear, to the music I listen to, to the movies and television I watch, to the sounds my car makes while I drive. Anything and everything can be inspiration if it's allowed to be, and I have no shame in admitting that I take all the inspiration I can get from anywhere I can find it.
Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?
My current writing routine calls for the following: My laptop, my headphones, a playlist specific to what I'm writing, and a bottomless cup of coffee at The Waffle Hut.
The routine has been varied several times over the years, but this is the one that I've found works the best.
Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?
Actually, yes. I read them all. I don't ever reply to them. I don't ever go off on internet benders about getting a bad review (though I do show off some of my favorites on social media from time to time.)
Ultimately, my books are things I created… things I made and let loose into the world. I don't know anyone who wouldn't be interested to know what people think of the things they make. I just made a deal with myself to keep any negativity created by reading a review to myself.
Honestly, my favorite review of anything I've written wasn't a 'glowing' review… but it was honest… and it was from someone I respect. Not every book (or every film, or every show, or every album) is for every person. Once you accept that there are things that you honestly don't like, it becomes easier (I think) to understand that the things you create or like aren't going to be honestly liked by everyone else.
Too much?
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
Writing always comes first. Sometimes that brings the title with it, other times there is a period of pondering over what to call something.
How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?
At the risk of sounding a bit 'off'… I don't really name my characters. I mean, I name some of them, sure… the more minor ones, and incidentals, but the main characters in my fiction always name themselves. They come to me with a story to tell. They talk in my head, telling me their story, in their words. I write it down for them. They already have names when I… meet… them. Does that make any sense?
Naming places in my work is something else entirely. I use real names of real places as often as I can, and for other places (like Pekin) in this story, I use historical references for actual places to stay as true as possible to the locations I'm using in my work. If I'm naming a place that is completely fabricated then all bets are off, and I'll just hope that it comes to me, as my characters do, with a name already attached.
Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")
I guess there are. It's been my experience that – if they set out to or not – every writer puts a part of who they are, where they are, and what they are going through into their books. Whatever values or morals that they have learned, no matter how complex or basic, often find a place in the stories they tell. I'm no Ayn Rand, Aldous Huxley or George Orwell, nor do I want to be. I've never set out to preach anything from the pages of my fiction, but I guess there are lessons there, if you look for them. If something jumps out from my work, and acts as a moral (and it helps someone) then all the better, I suppose.
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
I have a Kindle and I use it a lot, but I don't think it will ever be able to supplant my love for actual physical copies of book. There's just something about holding a book in my hands. I like flipping the pages. I like the weight of it. And nothing in the world, not really, smells like a book.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut and I have owned nine copies of it (though I've only had 3 different covers).
Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?
Some do, some don't. I think it depends on how the story was originally told. If it was an internal or external struggle primarily. Was the story a character's journey inside themselves or not?
I could give you a list as long as your arm of films that got it wrong, and list equally long of films that got it right, but both of those lists would really seem tiny by comparison to the vast majority of book-to-film conversions that just ended up being simply passable.
The Hunger Games, by way of example, make interesting viewing. I think a lot of what made the books a great read didn't make it onto the screen. To be fair, though, those are the same things that make the books great to read, and would make the films poor to watch.
Your favorite food is?
Um, right now? Sushi… specifically Unagi. (Or Coffee, if you count beverages)
Your favorite singer/group is?
It varies. Sometimes it varies wildly.
Barenaked Ladies, Nine Inch Nails, Feist, David Bowie, Poe, They Might Be Giants, Paul Simon, Eminem, Lacuna Coil, The Doors, KMFDM, Fun, The Lonely Island, Pink, Violent Femmes, Faith No More, Sia, Fiona Apple
I worked in music retail for years, and I don't have limits to what I listen to, so my musical tastes range all over the spectrum. As my moods change, or what I'm working on changes, so too changes my playlist.
Your favorite color is?
Just the right shade of grey…
Your favorite Author is?
Living or dead? Indie or Big 6? Classic or modern? Screenwriting, graphic novel, playwright?
Neil Gaiman is a hero of mine for what he does with words… Kurt Vonnegut, Frank Miller, Robert Jordon, Erin Keane, Charles Bukowski, Allie Burke, Issac Asimov, Shel Silverstein, Bill Shakespeare… They're all heroes… but if you hold me to just one… I'll have to say Neil Gaiman.
Born and raised in the middle of the American Midwest, Dennis Sharpe has been a writer as long as he can remember. His mother has told many people about the fantasy and science fiction stories he'd write on scraps of paper, and staple together as his 'books', before he'd attended his first day of formal education.
He has spent many late nights at diners and dives, drinking coffee with a tattered notebook to put a voice to his feelings of himself and the world around him, and other worlds that can exist only in fiction. The voices in his head don't ever stop talking to him, and so sooner or later he has to get out onto a page all that they've filled him up with.
Inspired by Neil Gaiman, Kurt Vonnegut, Frank Miller, Chrissie Pappas, Charles Bukowski, Stephen King, Issac Asimov, and countless classic literary influences, Dennis continues with the ability to write what at a glance might seem absurd, but quickly begins to resonate with our own thoughts and emotions. He writes people we know, love we've known and lost (and found again), and places we've been in our lives and in our heads. Even his fictional characters and worlds carry enough of the grey areas we experience in day-to-day life, to let us find the truth in his words, no matter how fantastic.
These days he can be found still writing, drinking coffee with friends, or spending time with his children (the true joys of his life), in Western Kentucky.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dennispsharpe
Twitter: @witlesslackey
Website: http://dennis-sharpe.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Witlesslackey
