Lynelle Clark's Blog, page 46

Hotel of Death: the chosen one by Cynthia Fridsma. And what is all this talk about an ancient curse and the book of the dead?

Title of book: Hotel of Death: the chosen oneOfficial genre of book: horror/thriller/fantasy
Publication Date: January 12, 2015



Richard McKenna is the renowned author of two bestsellers, but now he is suffering from writer's block. However, he must write his book within three weeks, if he is to marry beautiful Glory Maryland. Unfortunately, Glory's husband wants to prevent this and starts a cat and mouse game of life and death. In order to survive Richard flees to Boston, but he discovers his life is still at stake when an assassin waits for him in his hotel room. Saved by the feds, he discovers that one of them is a vampire and they seem to have their own agenda. They claim to help him, but can they be trusted? Or are they using him for their own purposes? And since when can any vampire be trusted? More importantly: will he survive? And what is all this talk about an ancient curse and the book of the dead?

With a razor-sharp knife, the Reaper cut his hand. He caught his blood in a test tube and stared at the woman whom he had tied down on the table, she had a gag in her mouth to keep her quiet. She tried to pull at her bindings, which only excited him even more. The woman would be his dinner, but first he needs to have some of her blood while she was still intact.
“It’s all okay,” he almost tenderly rubbed his hands through her hair, and then he used his knife to cut in her neck. A tortured groan came from her mouth, despite the gag. A few tears flowed down her cheeks while he gathered her blood in a new test tube. Then he gently wiped her tears and put a plaster on the wound. The Reaper turned his back to her and mingled her blood with his own. Through the microscope, he observed a small blood sample to see how his blood corrupted hers. For a moment, a few cells colored black. To him, it was the signal for a new ingredient: silver powder. The cells were now all pretty red, with a silvery sheen. Satisfied, he created five pills and a cream from the rest. The pills were for Harry. The cream was for him. He gently removed the plaster that he had put on his left cheek. His skin felt soft and smooth, like it is supposed to. The drug apparently not only stopped the growth of a tumor, but when used as a cream it restored damaged skin. He could earn lots of money in the cosmetics. He smeared the cream over his face and looked at the woman who looked back at him with bright, frightened eyes – the eyes of a deer, a very frightened deer. His stomach growled a bit. He walked over to her and untied the gag.
“Please, let me go,” she pleaded. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
He just laughed. “Let you go? But if I let you go, then I’ll starve to death.”
“What?” she asked with wide, startled eyes. She couldn’t say much more because he leaned forward and plunged his teeth into her neck. She struggled to get away while he felt the hot, sticky liquid in his mouth. Her struggle excited him as he pushed his teeth deeper into her flesh; he heard her scream. It sounded like a love song in his ears while he started to suck the wound and felt the life slipping out of her. Her struggle began to weaken – it’s time to stop drinking; he realized. He looked down at her, as she lay weakened on the table, and she was more dead than alive. He never felt so good as he wiped off his bloody mouth – she’s going to be a great partner.
“I have a present for you,” he smiled and bit his own wrist. The woman shook her head and moaned weakly. With an almost devilish pleasure, he pressed his bloody wrist in her mouth. “Drink,” he ordered her. At first, she kept her mouth closed. With his thumb, he forced her mouth open and pressed his bloody wrist on her mouth again. The blood trickled down her throat and finally she started to suck his wound. He felt himself getting all excited again; she brought him in ecstasy while she sucked his wound. The blood flowed through his veins into her mouth – enough!
He pulled his hand back. Again, he bit into her neck and he kept drinking until she stopped moving. Until he was sure she was dead. However, he knew she would soon be reborn as a vampire. For a moment, his thoughts wandered off to Sybil. She saved his life by turning him into a vampire, but she also betrayed him!
“Very soon we will stand face to face Sybil, and then we’ll see who the loser is!” He cut the rope that he used to tie up his victim and went to bed. The exchange would take place in a few hours, and he wanted to be there. He expected that by the time he got up, that his skin would be fully recovered. Then he could mingle between the day-trippers once again without drawing too much attention on himself and the cream itches, which annoyed him, but he saw it as a part of the healing process.


Amazon USAmazon CABarnes & NoblesGoodreads











FaceBook
Twitter
Goodreads
Website
Amazon
MoB Promosmagicofbookspromo@gmail.com

Love Rewritten Blog Tour by Jane Lynne Daniels. All 3 the books in the series are available. #Excerpt #Giveaway #Romance #Suspense

Be Careful What You Kiss For (Love Rewritten, Book 1)

When a psychic gives Tensley the chance to erase her biggest regret and replay her life with the one who got away, who would have thought a simple “do-over” could go so terribly wrong—and feel so right?
TAKE IT...
When Tensley Tanner-Starbrook gets the chance for one life “do-over” from a well-intentioned but bumbling psychic, she goes for it. But that change turns everything else upside down. Instead of a buttoned-up corporate executive, she’s now an entirely unbuttoned exotic dancer. And she’s face to…face with the one man she’s never been able to get over.
TO THE MAX
Detective Max Hunter has come a long way from high-school bad boy, and with everything on the line, nothing can stop him…except seeing his first love dancing in the club he’s been assigned to investigate. Torn between getting her far away from the place and needing her help as an insider, he knows only two things for sure: Tensley’s stirring feelings he thought long ago buried, and a relationship with her would be career suicide. Yet, maybe, just maybe, this was a love meant to overcome the past.
See more at: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/be-careful-what-you-kiss#sthash.KwWTRP72.dpuf



EXCERPT: From the 2015 RITA nominated  Be Careful What You Kiss For:
One by one, her arms snaked along the stage, her ass in the air and hair falling around her shoulders as her nipples brushed the floor, sending waves of an I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this thrill through her. The man in the striped shirt gripped his drink and leaned forward. Tensley made straight for him, the tip of her tongue working a lazy, seductive journey around her mouth.
His face lit up in anticipation, which turned to raw desire as she reached the end of the stage and rose on her knees to stroke herself while watching him through her lashes. Then she beckoned him toward her with one crimson-tipped index finger. He stood as if in a trance, not seeming to notice as he tripped over a chair. He just kept going.
Come to Mama. This was so not Tensley Tanner-Starbrook. But who had to know that? No one.
For a few minutes of her life, she could be someone else. Have a little fun. Ride on up to the orgasm bar and mix her own, instead of hoping someone like Bryan, who got points for congeniality, but couldn’t rock her world if his cock was twice its size…would do it for her.
Head back, she thrust both arms in the air and her crotch toward the mesmerized man. Hell, yes. Shewas Delightful, thank you very much.
His hand snaked forward.
The voice of another man sliced through it all to jolt her brain, if not the body performing independent of her brain, to a screeching halt. “Back up, buddy,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the music. “No touching her.”
With a gulp, her arms still triumphantly in the air, she shifted an uncertain gaze to the chair, cloaked in shadows, where that voice had come from.
It couldn’t be.
Razor-sharp memories pushed forward in her mind. The warm white bath of moonlight. A summer breeze washing over their damp, naked teenage bodies. The smell of newly mown fields. The lump in her throat before she worked up the courage to whisper, “I love you.”
Nooooo. She had to stop dancing. Had to end the dizzying swirl of confusion that had caused her to think—
Shadow man got to his feet and her eyes shot straight to his tall, dark silhouette. His fingers flashed into the light as he lifted a drink to her. “Lookin’ good.”
Max.
With every bit of physical strength she could find, Tensley grabbed the finger still motioning the man in the striped shirt forward. She pulled both hands down and to her sides. Her tongue tried to poke forward to lick her lips again, so she sank her teeth into it, hard, and let out a screech. She tasted blood.
Her body wasn’t giving up that easily, though. Before she knew it, she was back on her feet, gyrating and grinding, moving as though her two hands weren’t engaged in a go–stop–go battle. Every time her hip shot to one side, she stomped her foot, in the vain hope that would stop it. Something halfway between a purr and a growl came out of her mouth as she concentrated on jamming both hands on her waist. And keeping them there.
Again with the hip thrusting. Again with the stomping.
The striped-shirt man backed up, his expression baffled. Possibly because he’d never seen a step-dance striptease before.
Her hips continued on and then her leg joined in, kicking high as the music hit a crescendo, undeterred by the fight she was having with herself. It wasn’t until she ended up doing a vertical split of sorts, legs on the pole, fists still glued to her waist, that the music finally stopped and she regained control of her body.
Tensley eased her extended leg down and off the pole, inch by inch, and stood in the middle of the stage. After a minute or two of stunned silence, the crowd responded with polite applause and a few cat calls.
If he’s here, really here, I don’t want to know. I don’t. The man in the striped shirt approached to drop a twenty on the stage. Tensley peered past him into the darkness, trying to get a better look at the man she didn’t want to see.
The audience seemed to be waiting for her to do something. Tensley put one foot behind the other and bobbed a curtsy straight out of Miss Jodi’s tap dance class. Miss Jodi had always said a lady should never leave a performance without a curtsy.
She wondered, though, if Miss Jodi had meant every kind of performance.
Footsteps again clattered across the stage and the woman who had threatened to evict her earlier grabbed the mike to demand, “Now, are y’all ready for Terrible Tawny, the Tahitian Temptress?”
The audience sounded its approval and the woman spread her arms wide, the sleeves of her sparkling costume nearly knocking Tensley off the stage. She stumbled backward, but caught herself. New music blared and Terrible Tawny began to move her hips from side to side in time to the beat. Then she backed up, one long-limbed step at a time, until she reached the spot where Tensley stood.
Another sharp gyration and Tawny pulled off part of her costume with a flourish. When it landed on Tensley’s head, the crowd responded with hoots. Tensley reached up, yanked it to the floor and then tucked her hands under her arms, pulling them in tight as she shuffled backward out of the spotlight.Get me out of this place.
She hesitated at the top of the stairs, struggling to get her bearings. She had to call the police. Report this. And say—what? All she could remember was the flash above Madame Claire’s head. And the words she’d said. A do-over. The psychic had said it was possible.
What if the idea for revenge that Tensley had tossed off had actually happened? If she’d punched Rhonda Reardon. What if—this strip joint was now her life?
A wave of nausea turned her knees to Jell-O. She grabbed the metal handrail for support as she half-teetered, half-fell down the few stairs, then sat at the bottom and closed her eyes.
It couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t let it be true. She’d click her heels together three times, like Dorothy, and…
Then she heard his voice, inches away, rocketing straight through the music. “Been a long time.”
Her stomach did a double backflip. She remained perfectly still.
Warm breath ruffled the hair over her ear, caressing her skin. “I want a private dance.”
Tensley opened her eyes and turned to the one man she’d never been able to get out of her system, even though he’d shattered her heart so badly, it had never properly healed. Virtual gymnasts began spinning, twirling, leaping, falling off a balance beam in her stomach, until she had to press a fist tight to her middle to make them stop.
“Max.”

PURCHASE LINKS
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU KISSAmazon *  B&N * Boroughs Publishing Group





K*ss Happens (Love Rewritten, Book 2)

Emma Zane has one magical chance to erase the past and reclaim her soulmate lover and her dreams of a successful songwriting career, but as the song says, it ain’t gonna be easy.KISS HAPPENS

What if you could have one “do-over” in life? Emma Zane, who lost her lover and soulmate, Chase Chapman, and her passion for songwriting when she couldn’t find the courage to go to Nashville, is about to find out.
But a do-over, even a magic one, isn’t that easy. Emma’s abruptly thrust into a new life as an award-winning songwriter, only to find out she’s double-crossed Chase, stomped on others with her custom-made boots, and is engaged to a rising country star who has Emma locked into an ironclad contract. Now the woman who once pushed aside her dreams and the man she loves have to navigate a new world to reclaim both—without racking up more regrets than the one she started with. As the song says, it ain’t gonna be easy.
See more at: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/kss-happens#sthash.ZFqrkOwl.dpuf


PURCHASE LINKS
K*SS HAPPENSAmazon * B&N * Boroughs Publishing Group




Starts With a Kiss (Love Rewritten, Book 3)


With the help of a seemingly innocent spell, Anya Ramsay is about to completely change the direction of her life—and it’ll be a wilder ride than she ever expected.
STARTING OVER

Everything will finally be better. In college Anya Ramsay made the worst mistake of her life, but a gypsy spell now offers the chance to have done everything different. To have done everything right. The college car accident that disfigured her face and paralyzed basketball star Ryder Brandt, the man she’s always loved? It’ll have never happened. But nothing is ever so easy, just as some things—like Ryder’s kiss—can never be forgotten. To rectify all, Anya has to come to terms with who she is and what she’s done. Rewriting this mistake will be a ride wilder than the original, but at the end of the trip is a happy ending—and a life with the perfect man for her past, present and future.
See more at: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/starts-kiss#sthash.QeED7CKf.dpuf

 PURCHASE LINKS
STARTS WITH A KISSAmazon * B&N * Boroughs Publishing Group



ABOUT JANE LYNNE DANIELS:
Jane Lynne Daniels grew up a city girl, only to meet the love of her life at the annual Volunteer Fireman’s Ball in tiny Grass Valley, Oregon. She and her husband and dogs recently moved from the Pacific Northwest to Ohio, where they miss the rain and ocean, but love the change in seasons. Jane is doing her best to adopt a Midwest accent, but since people look at her funny when she tries, it probably isn’t working.


MEDIA LINKS:
Website: www.janelynnedaniels.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/janelynne.daniels.5Twitter: https://twitter.com/JaneLynnDanielsGenres: Erotic Romance, FantasySee more at: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/authors/jane-lynne-daniels#sthash.mvRWuDQi.dpuf




a Rafflecopter giveaway

Author Jeff Hastings's book is on tour. The Most Successful Failure in the World. Can the most successful failure in the world be redeemed?

Author: Jeff HastingsBook Title: The Most Successful Failure in the WorldGenre: Business, Fiction, LeadershipPublisher: Chart House Press, Released February 24, 2015Paperback: 196 pagesISBN-10: 1631250523ISBN-13: 978-1631250521

Buy Links:Amazon: 

About The Author
Starting a business from the ground up can be one of the most stressful, time-consuming and gut-wrenching challenges that one can endure. With 85% of business owners failing before year five, many entrepreneurs who chase their dreams end up emotionally and financially bankrupt in the process.Jeff Hastings knows all about the good intentions that pave the road to success. He has been in your shoes and experienced great triumphs and tribulation and has lived to tell the tale. As a small business owner, he developed one of the largest and most productive sales teams in the Farmers Insurance Group of Companies. His team of over 60 insurance agents and 150 support staff generated an estimated $85 million in annualized premium. In one year, his district generated over $13 million in profit making him one of the most profitable district managers since the company’s inception in 1928. Often being recognized for his performance, the pinnacle of his insurance career came in 2005 when he received the CEO’s top award, District Manager of the Year.However, once had reached the top he realized the sacrifice of health and family wasn’t worth the reward he’d been working towards for so many years. An already prolific author, motivational speaker and E-Myth coach, Jeff retired at just 47-years young to venture out on his own to develop a business coaching firm and publishing agency in 2014. Inspired by a dream one night, his new endeavor was designed using the principle of expressing your passion through your work while never losing sight of what is truly important. His publishing agency, Chart House Press, is one of the fast growing book publishing agencies in the country. The agency currently houses over 120 writers, editors, illustrators, cover designers and publicists working worldwide to help authors get their ideas in print.In his latest book, The Most Successful Failure in the World, Jeff explores the personal sacrifices and trials of owning and operating a business. The key point is to make certain your business adds to your life, and not the other way around. Jeff is the proud father of three children, Kristin, Avery and Logan and resides in Richmond, Texas.


About The BookWhen a terminal diagnosis puts Alex’s non-stop working and partying life on a six-month deadline, things draw into tight perspective for the CEO and founder of Moss Global. He realizes that while he achieved everything he’d ever set out to do, the regret over what he’d sacrificed for success weighs heavily on his heart. He can’t go back in time, but can he change his daughter’s future? Or will the business he built tear her apart too? Alex’s eldest daughter is following in his footsteps, right along with his best friend and Director of Customer Relations, Peter Walker. Through a series of tests and reformations, Alex works against time and the disease in his body to save his loved ones and his company from the life he modeled. Can the most successful failure in the world be redeemed?Other books by the author: Recruit, Recruit, Recruit – Achieving Success One Agent at a Time
Social Links:Website: http://themostsuccessfulfailure.com/T... https://twitter.com/JHastingsAgencyFa... Author page https://www.facebook.com/jeff.hastings.authorFacebook Book page: https://www.facebook.com/themostsucce...

Buy Links: Amazon: 


Tour is hosted by Write Now Literary www.wnlbooktours.comFollow the tour http://wnlbooktours.com/jeff-hastings/

Book Tour: Mourning's Journey by Kim Iverson Headlee. Morning’s Journey, is the sequel to the critically acclaimed Dawnflight, Book 1 in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles. #Giveaway #Historical #Romance #Myths #Legends

     
BOOK INFORMATIONTITLE – Morning’s Journey SERIES – The Dragon’s Dove Chronicles, book 2 AUTHOR – Kim Iverson Headlee GENRE – Myths, Legends, Historical, Spiritual, Romance PUBLICATION DATE – 2013 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 439 pages/140K words PUBLISHER – Pendragon Cove Press COVER ARTIST – Natasha BrownBOOK SYNOPSISIn a violent age when enemies besiege Brydein and alliances shift as swiftly as the wind, stand two remarkable leaders: the Caledonian warrior-queen Gyanhumara and her consort, Arthur the Pendragon. Their fiery love is tempered only by their conviction to forge unity between their disparate peoples. Arthur and Gyan must create an impenetrable front to protect Brydein and Caledonia from land-lusting Saxons and the marauding Angli raiders who may be massing forces in the east, near Arthur’s sister and those he has sworn to protect.But their biggest threat is an enemy within: Urien, Arthur’s rival and the man Gyan was treaty-bound to marry until she broke that promise for Arthur’s love. When Urien becomes chieftain of his clan, his increase in wealth and power is matched only by the magnitude of his hatred of Arthur and Gyan—and his threat to their infant son.Morning’s Journey, sequel to the critically acclaimed Dawnflight, propels the reader from the heights of triumph to the depths of despair, through the struggles of some of the most fascinating characters in all of Arthurian literature. Those struggles are exacerbated by the characters’ own flawed choices. Gyan and Arthur must learn that while extending forgiveness to others may be difficult, forgiveness of self is the most excruciating—yet ultimately the most healing—step of the entire journey.
  BUY & TBR LINKSAMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK – AMAZON PAPERBACK – BARNES & NOBLES NOOK – BARNES & NOBLES PAPERBACK – KOBO E-BOOK – SMASHWORDS – ITUNES E-BOOK – GOODREADS – SHELFARIEXCERPT: Chapter 1

THE CLASH OF arms resounds in the torchlit corridor. Blood oozes where leather has yielded to the bite of steel, yet both sweating, panting warriors refuse to relent.Her heart thundering, Gyan grips her sword’s hilt, desperate to help the man she loves. Caledonach law forbids it.Urien makes a low lunge. As Arthur tries to whirl clear, the blade tears a gash in his shield-side thigh. The injured leg collapses, and Arthur drops to one knee. Crowing triumphantly, Urien raises his sword for the deathblow.Devil take the law!
Gyan springs to block the stroke. Its force jars her arms and twists the hilt in her grasp. She barely holds on through the searing pain.Urien slips past her guard to slice at her brooch. The gold dragon clatters to the floor. Her cloak slithers to her ankles, fouling her stance. As she tries to kick free, Urien grabs her braid, jerks up her head, and kisses her, hard. Shock loosens her grip. Her sword falls. She thrashes and writhes, but he holds her fast, smirking lewdly.“You are mine, Pictish whore.”
Urien’s breath reeks of ale and evil promises. She spits in his face. He slaps her. She reels backward, her cheek burning. He grabs her forearms and yanks her close.“Artyr, help me!” No response. Her spirits plummet. Weaponless, she can do nothing—wait. A glint catches her eye.
When Urien kisses her again, she surrenders. He grunts his pleasure, redoubling the force of the kiss. Slowly, she works her hands over his chest until her left hand touches cold bronze on his shoulder. She snatches the brooch and rips it free, hoping to stab him with the pin.Her elation vanishes with her balance as her tangled cloak thwarts her plans. Face contorted with rage, Urien lunges and catches her wrist. She grits her teeth as his fingers dig in to make her drop the brooch. Pain shoots up her arm. She pushes away. Together, they fall—***
Gyan gasped and sat bolt upright, pulse hammering. Sweat plastered her hair to her head, which felt like the ball in an all-night game of buill-coise. Bed linens ensnared her legs.Fingers grazed her shoulder. She recoiled and cocked a fist. Her consort ducked behind his hand. “Easy, Gyan!” She relaxed, and he wrapped his arm about her. “What’s wrong?”She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “A dream,” she replied, hoping that for once he’d be satisfied with a vague answer.“Some dream.”
She sighed. “It was the fight—and yet not the fight.” Gently, she traced the thin red line at the base of his neck where she’d scratched him with Caleberyllus to seal his Oath of Fealty to her and to her clan. But dreams cared naught for oaths. “This time, Urien won.”Arthur grimaced. “That’s no dream.” He hugged her, and she burrowed into his embrace. “I’d call it a nightmare.”“Ha.” She bent forward to disengage the linens from her feet. The unyielding fabric ignited her ire. She pounded the straw-stuffed mattress, furious at Urien and even more furious at herself for allowing him to creep into her wedding chamber, if only in spirit. “Why must that cù-puc keep coming between us?” She gazed at the table where Braonshaffir, named for the egg-size sapphire that crowned its hilt, lay sheathed inside its etched bronze scabbard beside Caleberyllus. Indulging in the fantasy of her new sword shearing through Urien’s neck, she bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Just let him cross me openly, and by the One God, I’ll settle this matter!”Arthur’s warm sigh ruffled her hair. Together they righted the linens, but when she would have risen, he clasped her hands and regarded her earnestly. “I can’t afford to lose either of you.”She looked at those hands, young and yet already scarred and callused by years of war: hands that cradled the future of Breatein. “I know.” Briefly, she squeezed his hands, hoping to convey her desire to help him forge unity among his people, the Breatanaich, as well as with Caledonaich, her countrymen.One legion soldier in five called the northwestern Breatanach territory of Dailriata home, and one in three of those men hailed from Urien’s own Clan Móran. In a duel between Gyan and Urien, Arthur’s Dailriatanach alliance would die regardless of the victor.If politics ever failed to constrain the Urien of the waking world, however, she couldn’t guarantee that diplomacy would govern her response.She averted her gaze again to the table where their arms and adornments lay. Their dragon cloak-pins sparked a memory. Something else had been odd about that dream, but its details had receded like the morning tide. She couldn’t decide whether to be troubled or relieved.Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, trying to purge Urien map Dumarec from her mind. Moist pressure against her lips announced her consort’s plans. She welcomed his kiss and deepened it. He ran his fingers through her unbraided hair, following the tresses down her neck and over her breasts. Her nipples firmed under his touch. She arched back, and he kissed his way down to one breast, then the other, drawing the nipples forth even farther and awakening the exquisite ache in her banasròn.The swelling shaft of sunlight heralded a reminder of their duties.
“The cavalry games will be starting soon, mo laochan.” No other man had earned the Caledonaiche endearment from her, and none ever would. Her “little champion” bore her down onto the pillows, and his lips interrupted any other comment she might have made. As they explored the curve of her throat, she whispered, “We must make an appearance.”“We will, Gyan.” His fingertips teased her banasròn, discovering its damp readiness. “Eventually.” She stilled his hand. He looked at her, puzzled.
Being àrd-banoigin obligated her to ensure her clan’s future by bearing heirs, but was she ready to abandon the warrior’s path and devote her life to a bairn? She gave a mental shrug. A swift calculation assured her that her courses would return soon, leaving the question to be faced another day. Smiling, she began caressing one of the reasons he’d earned “laochan” as an endearment.He cupped her face and kissed her, urgency for both of them soaring on the wings of desire. His thigh rubbed hers with slow, firm strokes. Gyanhumara nic Hymar, Chieftainess of Clan Argyll of Caledon, yielded to her consort’s unspoken command. She opened to him, and he plunged her into their sacred realm of mind-blanking bliss.Whenever Arthur map Uther, Pendragon of Breatein, issued an order, on the battlefield or off, only a fool disobeyed.BOOK TRAILER (with older cover by Jennifer Doneske)

CHARACTER BIOS From Legion Headquarters in Caer Lugubalion, Brydein, I send you greetings.
I put pen to parchment in honor of my wife, Gyan—formally, Chieftainess Gyanhumara nic Hymar of Clan Argyll of Caledonia. We have been married a few short months, just since the calends of July, and we met each other for the first time only three months before that. Yet I feel so closely bonded with her in heart, soul, and mind that it seems as if I have known her my entire life.If you were to ask me what first caught my attention about this remarkable woman, I would have to confess it was her exotic beauty. Her brilliant copper hair, sea-green eyes, berry lips, the wild blue doves winging across her forearm all beckoned to me to learn more about her. Since I knew her to be a warrior—though untried in battle at the time of our meeting—I had expected her to act aloof, cold, haughty, arrogant. From the moment my hand gripped her arm in welcome, I knew she was none of those things.And I think I knew—on some level, at least, if not overtly—that my heart stood in grave danger of declaring its undying allegiance to her even as I realized that to do while she remained betrothed to Urien might plunge our lands into another war.Fortunately for both our peoples, Gyan proved herself a canny diplomat and hid her feelings about me until the time was right for both of us to declare our love.Problems remain, of course. Though together Gyan and I defeated the Scots and bought peace from that quarter for a season, the Saxon and Angli kings remain a looming threat. Urien stands to become chieftain of his clan, and may God deliver us all from that day. And I cannot shake the disturbing thought that, should Gyan and I have children, they might fall victim to treachery from without—or within.But I also have deep abiding faith in that which makes us strongest: our love for each other, and the love of our God, our families, our clans, and our friends. Against an alliance of that nature no power in heaven or on earth stands a chance.Arturus Aurelius Vetarus, Dux Britanniarum Also called by many Arthur the Pendragon  


AUTHOR BIOKim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, and assorted wildlife. People & creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins -- the latter having been occupied as recently as the mid-20th century -- seem to be sticking around for a while yet.Kim is a Seattle native (when she used to live in the Metro DC area, she loved telling people she was from "the other Washington") and a direct descendent of 20th-century Russian nobility. Her grandmother was a childhood friend of the doomed Grand Duchess Anastasia, and the romantic yet tragic story of how Lydia escaped Communist Russia with the aid of her American husband will most certainly one day fuel one of Kim's novels. Another novel in the queue will involve her husband's ancestor, the 7th-century proto-Viking king of the Swedish colony in Russia.For the time being, however, Kim has plenty of work to do in creating her projected 8-book Arthurian series, The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, and other novels under her new imprint, Pendragon Cove Press.
  FOLLOW KIM:BLOG – NEWSLETTER – TWITTER – GOOGLE+ – FACEBOOK – PINTEREST – AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – GOODREADS – LINKEDIN – YOUTUBE CHANNEL GIVEAWAY PRIZES– 5 e-copies of Morning’s Journey – 10 note cards – 1 autographed print copy of Morning’s Journey a Rafflecopter giveaway   This Tour Was Organized & Hosted By

Pink Shades of Words is a collaboration of 18 never before seen short stories from 18 New York Times, USA Today, and International Best Selling Authors.

Pink Shades of Words is a collaboration of 18 never before seen short stories from 18 New York Times, USA Today, and International Best Selling Authors. These authors came together to bring you a collection of romance that is a must read including New Adult, Contemporary, Erotica, and Dark Romance. Pink Shades of Words is available for a limited time only, so get your copy quick! All proceeds will benefit the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer through the Fifty Shades of Pink team.
About the Courage Anthology Charity

www.avonwalk.org/goto/50shadesofpink

All proceeds from sales will benefit the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer via the Fifty Shades of Pink team. FIFTY SHADES OF PINK team is made up of a group of girlfriends who raise funds annually to participate in the Avon 2 Day Breast Cancer Walk in Santa Barbara, CA. For one weekend in September, we wake up before the crack of dawn, dress in as much Pink as humanly possible and prepare to walk for 39.9 miles.We suffer and laugh through: • Torn muscles which require surgery• Blisters that are almost covering your entire foot and body parts you never realize you could get a blister on (ButtCrackGate 2013)• Passing out in the triage medical unit• Sleeping in a tent on the grass• Taking the best mobile showers EVER• Limping like old ladies• Cursing at the curbs to get onto the sidewalk (Walk 39 miles and you will be cursing at them too).We do this all in the hopes that no other Mother, Sister, Aunt or Friend will have to deal with Breast Cancer.***Money raised from the anthology will go towards the 2015 Avon Walk***


  *AMAZON *

Anthology Line Up

★★★

Shanghai Wind by Chloe Barlow


Chloe is a contemporary romance novelist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her husband and their sweet dog. She is a native Washingtonian that graduated Duke University with a degree in English and Chinese language. She met her husband at Duke and he brought her to Pittsburgh over a decade ago, which she has loved ever since and made her adopted hometown. She also attended the University of Pittsburgh Law School where she continued to be a book-loving nerd.

Chloe has always loved writing and cherishes the opportunity to craft her fictional novels and share them with the world. When Chloe isn't writing, she spends her time exploring Pittsburgh with her husband and friends. She also enjoys yoga, jogging, and all Pittsburgh sports, as well as her Duke Blue Devils.

She also thoroughly enjoys every opportunity to communicate with her readers. Since the release of her debut novel, Three Rivers, she has enjoyed the honor of meeting and talking with numerous fans, and looks forward to getting to know many more. Facebook
When You Want by Ruth Cardello

Ruth Cardello was born the youngest of 11 children in a small city in northern Rhode Island. She spent her young adult years moving as far away as she could from her large extended family. She lived in Boston, Paris, Orlando, New York--then came full circle and moved back to Rhode Island. She now happily lives one town over from the one she was born in. For her, family trumped the warmer weather and international scene.

She was an educator for 20 years, the last 11 as a kindergarten teacher. When her school district began cutting jobs, Ruth turned a serious eye toward her second love- writing and has never been happier. When she's not writing, you can find her chasing her children around her small farm, riding her horses, or connecting with her readers online.

Her third book in the Andrade Series, Maximum Risk is now available for pre-order!
Facebook


Alpha Love by Gretchen de la O


By day Gretchen teaches computers, by night she dons the cloak of motherhood, wifehood, and authorship. She is making her way through self-publishing and is truly learning to let go with every curve and bump in the creative process. She enjoys writing about first loves and first times, in the first person. She is a firm believer that anything is possible if you set your mind to it; and what you expect out of life, always finds a way of showing up.

Gretchen happily lives in Northern California with her amazing husband, their three terrific boys, her talented mother, one goofy black lab, two crazy kitties, and seven happy chickens. Even though it sounds like it, she doesn't live on a farm.

The Wilson Mooney Series is Gretchen's 3 book complete series about a forbidden student/teacher romance. The series is a New Adult Romance. Pick it up today!
Facebook

Mr. Online by Jennifer Foor


Jennifer Foor - Author of the Best Selling Mitchell Family Series, The Kin Series, The Bankshot Series, The Twisted Twin Series, Diary of a Male Maid, Hope's Chance and Love's Suicide.

Facebook Kindred by Angela Graham & 
S.E. Hall
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author.

Angela knew she found her calling in the world of fiction the moment she began pounding away at the keys for her first short story in 2012. With a baby on her shoulder, she wrote for about a year before deciding to try her hand at an actual novel. It was the best decision she ever made and since then she continues to bring characters to life in her free time snuck away from her first role as mother to her three young children. Facebook


S.E.Hall is the author of the Amazon Best Selling Evolve Series: Emerge, Embrace, Entangled(novella)and Entice as well as the best selling stand-alone NA Romance, Pretty Instinct. She also co-wrote Stirred Up, Packaged and Handled, stand-alone erotic quickies with her CP and friend, Author Angela Graham and Conspire, a romantic suspense with friend and author Erin Noelle.
S.E. Hall is honored to be a part of the USA Today and NYT Best Selling Devour box set.
She resides in Arkansas with her husband of 18 years and 3 beautiful daughters of the home. Facebook
Relinquished by K.A. Hunter


Kimi grew up in the San Gabriel Valley (mostly Alhambra) and still lives in Southern California. She's been married to her high-school sweetheart and prom date for over 22 years and they have two hilarious boys.

When she's not reading or writing, Kimi spends her time in the kitchen trying to come up with vegan meals that don't taste like cardboard. Her family might disagree with this however.

Volunteering is extremely important to her and her family. Together, they work with several local non-profit organizations. A portion of her sales will always go to charity.

Books 1-3 in the Intertwined Hearts series, are available now and book 4, Grafted Vines (Dani & Zachary's story) is anticipated to release in early 2015.

*** UPDATE BY AUTHOR...I have some EXCITING news. I decided to write a new novel under the pen name, K.A. Hunter (will add links when they become available). I'm not hiding behind the name but this novel, and others that will follow, is more raw and definitely grittier than my Intertwined Hearts series. The first 4 chapters have been written into a short story that will appear in an anthology in February 2015 and I anticipate publishing the full novel around July 2015. Those that have read it confirm that it's nothing like what I've written before and they were blown away. Can't even tell you how happy that makes me :D Facebook
Insatiable Hunger & Will You Be My Valentine (Two Stories) by Jade C. Jamison
For years, Jade C. Jamison tried really hard to write what she thought was more "literary" fiction, but she found herself compelled to write what you read by her today--sometimes gritty, raw, realistic stories and other times humorous, light stories--but most of the stories she writes revolve around relationships and characters finding their way through life. While she doesn't confine herself to just one genre, nor is there a nice neat label for what she writes, most of her work could be called erotic romance.

She lives in Colorado with her husband and four children.
Facebook Dry Spell by Vi KeelandVi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn't change for the world. She is a bookworm and has been known to read her kindle at stop lights, while styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during sporting events, and frequently while pretending to work. She is a boring attorney by day, and an exciting New York Times & USA Today Best Selling smut author by night! Facebook

Break Down Here by Shayne McClendon
Shayne McClendon is an indie author who has received rave reviews for her premiere novel "The Barter System."

Other projects recently released are "Yes to Everything," "Completely Wrecked," "Love of the Game - The Complete Collection," "The Hermit," "Hudson" - the second book set in "The Barter System" world, and "Just a Little - The Complete Collection" with Alexandra Andersen.

Writer, mom, and hermit...Shayne listens to the voices in her head because their ideas are awesome. Those around her have learned not to question the crazy. Coffee consumption is too high, amount of sleep is too low, but the words always feel just right.

She currently lives in Oklahoma wrangling teenagers, opening doors for her pets, and running her content writing company. She dreams of peace, quiet, travel, and always having a viable internet connection.
Facebook The Auction by J.B. McGee
J.B. McGee was born and raised in Aiken, South Carolina. She is the mother of two beautiful children and a stay at home mom/entrepreneur. She finished her Bachelor of Arts degree in Early Childhood Education at the University of South Carolina-Aiken in 2006. During her time studying children's literature, a professor had encouraged her to become a writer.

In 2011, it was discovered that both of her children, she, and her husband have Mitochondrial Disease, a disease that has no cure or treatments. Being a writer allows J.B. to remain close to her family, work on raising awareness for this disease, and to lose herself in the stories that she creates for her fans.

J.B. McGee and her family now reside in Buford, Georgia. She is an Amazon Top 100 bestselling author of her debut series, the 'THIS' Series.

Facebook Frozen Fantasy by Nicole Andrews Moore

Nicole lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband, a teenage son and daughter, and Kenna. Every day is new and sparkly...which is why she chronicles them on her blog, Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey. It is a way for her to spread her brand of hope, happiness, and love.

Previously, Nicole has been published by McClatchy News in their syndicated papers. In 2010, she joined the Yahoo! Mother Board, became a Shine Parenting Guru, and has become an award winning dating and relationships expert for Shine.

After a few bad sailing experiences, the Moores decided they were safer on land. Their boating adventures will be limited to cruise ships. And those cruises are centered around their travel goal of visiting ever Margaritaville. Two down, eleven to go! Facebook

Roses Are Red by Liv Morris
Raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, Liv Morris now resides in Manhattan with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating eleven times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she's planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing. Facebook
Cricket by Tess OliverCustom Culture #5: Nix & Scotlyn: The Wedding COMING DECEMBER 20th

I write romance for young adult, new adult and those of us past the 'new' stage. My stories take place anywhere from 19th century England to 21st century California. And you can count on a super alpha in each book.

Tess Oliver is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Custom Culture Series. She lives in sunny California with her husband, kids and a herd of spoiled pets Facebook

The Fantasy by Julie A. Richman USA TODAY Bestselling author Julie A. Richman is a native New Yorker living deep in the heart of Texas. A creative writing major in college, reading and writing fiction has always been a passion. Julie began her corporate career in publishing in NYC and writing played a major role throughout her career as she created and wrote marketing, advertising, direct mail and fundraising materials for Fortune 500 corporations, advertising agencies and non-profit organizations. She is an award winning nature photographer plagued with insatiable wanderlust. Julie and her husband have one son and a white German Shepherd named Juneau.

Currently, Julie has published The Needing Moore Series - Searching for Moore, Moore to Lose and Moore than Forever, and has works included in Pink Shades of Words and Tempting Fate Boxed Set (Searching for Moore appears in its entirety) Facebook
Teasing Destiny by Melanie ShawnNEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY bestselling author Melanie Shawn is the writing team of sister duo Melanie and Shawna. Originally from Northern California, they both migrated south and now call So Cal their home.

Growing up, Melanie constantly had her head in a book and was always working on short stories, manuscripts, plays and poetry.

Shawna always loved romance in any form - movie, song or literary. If it was a love story with a happy ending, Shawna was all about it! She proudly acknowledges that she is a romanceaholic.

They have joined forces to create a world where true love and happily ever after always has a sexy twist! Facebook

Undoing You by Jessica Sorenson Jessica Sorensen is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author from the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she's not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family. Facebook

Always on my Mind by Hilary Storm Hilary Storm lives with her high school sweetheart and three children in Enid, Oklahoma. She drives her husband crazy talking about book characters everyday like they are real people. She graduated from Southwestern Oklahoma State University with an MBA in Accounting. Her passions include being a mom, writing, reading, photography, music, mocha coffee, and spending time with friends and family. She is the international best selling author of the Rebel Walking Series.
Facebook

Release blitz for Fallen Idol by Nikki Lynn Barrett. What goes up must come down... Enter the Giveaway and read an excerpt from the book.

 Title of book: Fallen IdolName of Editor: Robert BarrettName of cover designer: Robert BarrettPage # or word count: 100kOfficial genre of book: contemporary romantic suspenseContent warning: Adult content- sex scene


What goes up must come down... 
Kyra Sanders had a promising career in country music in her teen years. She gained popularity and fame, riding high atop the the charts. Then one deadly accident changed things, sending her spiraling downward to the point she went into a hiatus from music. 
Six years later, Kyra's making her return to the music scene. With an album in the works and a new song on the radio, her career is back on track, until a call from Texas with news of an accident forces her to halt her plans. 
Matt Greer is working through the aftermath of his ex-wife's abandonment when she chose to leave him and their fourteen year old son to pursue her own musical dreams. He's had enough of troubled musicians and the havoc they bring to his life. Kyra surprises him in a good way, but it doesn't mean he wants anything to do with a singer who comes to town with trouble on her trail. 
It's hard to avoid each other in a small town, especially when their families are close. Matt should stay away from the woman who could lead danger right to their town, and it's possible she already has, but he can't help how drawn he becomes to her. 
The sparks ignite, but danger lurks in the distance, only getting closer as time goes on. For two people who want different things out of life, it's possible to find healing together...


"I know it's a far cry from the parties you're used to." Matt leaned close to talk near her ear.
"That's a good thing," Kyra snapped, immediately regretting it. Was he going on his judgmental kick again?
"Kyra-" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I misjudge you once, and you always think that's what I'm doing?"
She was about to apologize when the song changed from an upbeat one to a slow country ballad. Kyra laughed. This was her song! "Seriously? Did you put them up to this?"
Matt shook his head. "Nope. I never suggested the music. But since this is your song, literally, I think we should dance." He held out a hand.
She stared down at it. "Are we supposed to dance?" So he knew her song. It surprised her, but made her feel good, too.
"Dancing is permitted. We're here to help out, and there's nothing that says we can't dance. Hey look, Blaine and Randy are out on the floor, too." He gestured. "Come on."
She stepped into his embrace and swayed to the music. Her music. This was a first. Kyra had never danced with a sexy man to her own song before. His arms tightened around her waist.
"So how old were you when this song came out?" Matt whispered in her ear.
"Sixteen," she replied, glancing around the room as they moved. A few yards away from them were Andrew and Daisy. So far, she'd handled the crowd pretty well. Good.
"Just two years older than Andrew is now, and you had multiple number ones already." Matt mused. 
"What's that like?"
She tensed, not sure how to answer.
"Does it bother you that I'm asking? It's out of curiosity. I'm not judging or anything. I really want to know. It's interesting. Here I am, dancing with you during my son's first date. At the age he is now, you broke out in the business. He wasn't even in kindergarten when you had your biggest hits on the radio."
She looked up at Matt. Kyra was tall at 5'8, and Matt had a good four or five inches on her. "It's a feeling I can't explain. I never expected to take off the way I did. I was different as a child. I always had a melody playing in my mind. I couldn't sit still. I'd tap out a beat, or I'd hum. I had song lyrics pop up in my mind that needed to be put to music."
"I know all about that. I remember the first time I met you." There was a twinkle in his eye.
"Yeah, I annoyed you because I tapped out a beat on your dashboard."
"Then you hummed." Matt laughed, then his grin faded. "It wasn't so much annoying as I was nervous about the storm. Adding sounds I'm not used to didn't help."
"And you didn't like me." Kyra wished she'd never said that.
Matt lowered his gaze. "It wasn't quite that."
"No?" Did she really have to ruin the good night by bringing up their awkward first meeting? Why, why, why?
Matt pulled her closer. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little, and I regret it. Let's just say there's a history with me and musicians, and I took it out on the wrong girl."

Amazon US ~ Amazon CAGoodreads


The Secret Santa Wishing Well ~ Baby StetsonThe Melody In My Head ~ On the 12th Date of ChristmasA Masterpiece Of Our Love ~ The Key To My HeartA Masterpiece Unraveled ~ 'Tis The Season For Forgiving

I'm an avid lover of books. I've been writing as far back as I can remember, completing my first "book" by fifth grade in one of those one subject spiral notebooks. I have a passion for music, photography, jewelry and all things creative. I live in Arizona with my husband and son, but dream of being somewhere much colder and stormier. For now, I'll have to live that life through my characters and stick it out with the summer heat.

FaceBookFacebook: Nikki's Book NookFacebook: Nikki's Book StormersTwitterGoodreadsWebsite

a Rafflecopter giveaway

MoB Promosmagicofbookspromo@gmail.com

Today I have the very talented Leslie Pike on my Blog. Read more about her latest book: The trouble in Eden.

SYNOPSIS:

BLISS NOVAK has a great life. She's happy, beautiful and financially secure. What more could she want?
Fortune has smiled on STEVEN FRENCH too. Handsome, talented and sexy, the stuntman has it all. At least that's what he believes until he meets Bliss.
When a movie production comes to Pacific Grove, these two are drawn together in a passionate romance. Their love creates their personal Garden of Eden.
But there's only one thing wrong with the Garden of Eden....there's always a snake.
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25011611-the-trouble-with-eden




PURCHASE LINKS:
AMAZON * B&N *KOBO


INTERVIEW WITH LESLIE PIKE

1.       Where did the idea come from for the book?It came from my own experiences in the film business. I’m a screenwriter, and my husband was a Stuntman/Stunt Coordinator/Director. I’m very familiar with movie sets and the people who inhabit them. So, I thought it was the perfect setting for my first book. It’s an interesting world inhabited by interesting people. Every day someone misbehaves. What a great world to write about!
2.       What genre does your book fall under?Contempory Romance  
3.       Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?I hesitate on this question, because the fact that readers see the characters as they imagine them is one of the wonderful things about reading. No real person, no actor does the character justice. I rather have the reader shape the faces and bodies from their own ideas of beauty and sexiness. But for me, I’ll leave it to casting for now!
4.       What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?Oh no! One sentence?     When a movie production comes to Pacific Grove, Bliss Novak and Steven French are drawn together in a passionate romance. Can I write a run-on sentence? Haha  Their love creates their own Garden of Eden. But there’s only one thing wrong with the Garden of Eden…..there’s always a snake.               5.       How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?I write a detailed outline first, so by the time I begin writing I know where I’m going. So for that outline it took me about two weeks. Then I began.
6.       What did you learn about yourself while writing this book?I learned a lot. I learned I could write 75,000 words give or take, that told a good story, made sense and made me want more. I learned that once again words make me happy. The crafting of sentences, the ideas to express, the beauty of finding the perfect way to say what you mean. I learned I like the silence of the act of writing, when you are not obligated to finish on a specific date. That was very freeing. And I learned there’s a community of readers out there in cyberspace that are hungry for stories. They are supportive and uplifting women and men who want the writer to succeed. So, I learned I like being in their world.



EXCERPT:


BLISS
I can barely keep my eyes open.            Like Cleopatra on her chaise, I lie face to the sky enjoying a rooftop poolside catnap.  After my morning workouts I take time to decompress.  If only someone would feel me a grape.            My lids close, as the August sun lulls me into an intoxicating half sleep.  The heat feels so good on my skin, soothing my overworked muscles.            Ironic, that the pleasures of life can trick us into affection, and then need.  Sun, food, sex, everything we enjoy we can enjoy too much.  And when we do, the pleasure becomes the course of our pain.  How well I understand this perversion.            I close my eyes, pushing down the past.  I prefer to think of the now.  Gorgeous day, gratitude for the gifts of life that are mine, and the entire pool to myself.            SPLASH!            The sound of a body diving into the pool interrupts my little Valhalla.  I’m shocked by what feels like a blast of glacial water.              Droplets rain down on my hot skin and white bikini, and I shiver with the impact.  My reflex is to jump up, but decide instead to investigate the source.             I lift the oversized brim of my red straw hat to peek at the intruder.  Who trespasses in my personal Garden of Eden?            A golden male body streaks under the water, powerful, aerodynamic.  He rises to the surface and takes long easy strokes.  I’ve seen enough to know that this particular body is pretty damned beautiful.            Adjusting my position to get a better look, I watch him turn and head back towards my end of the pool.            Lift your head, lift your head.  Let me see your face.  I will it so.            As it on cue, he reaches for the edge of the pool and raises his head out of the water. Wow.            I’m dazed into silence.  My pulse quickens.            Pillowed lips, dark thick hair, penetrating green eyes, well defined jawline, it all comes together in a perfect storm of hotness.            And for just a few moments, the entire picture I see freeze frames.  The world stops and makes sure I’m paying attention.            He smiles at me.            “Morning,” Adonis speaks.  His voice is seductive and flirtatious.            “Morning,” I flash him my best smile, and my interest is completely sincere.            Putting his hands on the pools edge, he lifts himself out in one effortless motion.            “Jesus,” I mutter, under my breath.            His right shoulder is covered in tattoos that wrap around to this chest.  I can see one of the underside of his left forearm, a snake I think, and a piece of another peeking out of the bottom of his trunks.  Suddenly I’m a big fan of tattoo art.
            He stands dripping in front of me.  My eyes follow the envious journey of droplets running from his hair, down his chest, over his flat stomach, and into the band of his trunks.  My eyes linger for a nanosecond on the mother lode.  Yep.  Ding, ding ding.  Oh yeah. 





AUTHOR BIO:
Leslie Pike lives in Laguna Niguel, California, with her husband Don, and Pom-Poo Mr. Big. Before writing her novel, Leslie worked as a screenwriter on episodic television. She has traveled the world with her Stuntman/Stunt Coordinator/Director husband, on movie sets from Africa to Israel, from New York to Los Angeles. Some of her favorite things include calligraphy, long walks with her friends, and enjoying delicious food that other people have cooked!

The Trouble With Eden is Leslie's debut novel.




MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Leslie-Pike/500697990073026?ref=aymt_homepage_panelTSU: https://www.tsu.co/AuthorLesliePikeWebsite: www.lesliepike.comTwitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLPikeInstagram: https://instagram.com/authorlpike/




a Rafflecopter giveaway

Announcing the release of I'll Sing for my dinner by BR Kingslover.

SYNOPSIS:
When Cecily Buchanan walks into the Roadhouse Bar and Grill and offers to sing for a meal, ex-Marine Jake McGarrity can't say no. Some say Jake is too soft hearted for his own good. But letting the waif with the cover girl face and the voice of an angel walk away would be more than he could stand.
Cecily's sweet nature, bubbly personality and obvious talent endear her to everyone she meets, and Jake soon knows his heart is lost. But Cecily has secrets and won't talk about her past, one so dark that she has nightmares and clutches a knife while she sleeps.
When those who are chasing her close in, she faces the decision of whether to run again, or to trust her life to the cowboy who has taught her the meaning of love.
Warning: This novel contains a dark subplot concerning previous abuse/rape.

BUY LINKS
AMAZON SMASHWORDS KOBO BOOKSTORE 
ITUNES 


Chapter 1
JakeA pickup truck pulled up in front of the bar and stopped. It looked like Luke Sowers in thedriver’s seat. The door on the other side opened, but I couldn’t see who got out. Then the truck pulled out again, the tires throwing gravel, and sped off.
What was left, standing in the parking lot, looked like a hippie. A girl, with a backpack andsomething else. She shouldered the pack, picked up what I now could see was a guitar case, and headed for the door. Apparently, she was a hitchhiker and he dropped her off at my place. Thanks, Luke.
Making her way through the door, she came straight toward me instead of taking a seat atone of the tables. The sign by the door said ‘Seat yourself,’ so I wondered what in the hell this was all about.
Stopping in front of me, she looked up into my face and asked in one of the most beautifulvoices I’d ever heard, “May I speak to the owner, or the manager?”
The voice was a surprise, like a flower blooming in the desert. Her face was a shock. For allthe grime, she was beautiful. Not pretty, but the kind of beauty you see on the covers ofmagazines. Long stringy greasy hair fell past her small breasts. She was thin, too thin, with alook in her gray eyes I hadn’t seen since coming back to the States, a combination of shell shock and hunger. The overall impression she projected was fragility. She came up to about my shoulder and I wasn’t sure she was old enough to be in a bar. What in the hell was she doing hitchhiking alone?
“I’m the owner, and the manager,” I replied. “I’m Jake McGarrity.”
“I’m Cecily,” she said. Turning, she looked around the room. The Roadhouse is a prettytypical bar with a bandstand at the end opposite the door and an area cleared for dancing. It was six-thirty in the evening, and we had two families with kids, about half a dozen couples, and two groups of four cowboys, all eating dinner. On a Wednesday night, that was pretty good. On a weekend, we did a lot better, and lunch was usually packed.
Turning back to me, she licked her lips and then said, “You have live music in here.” It wasa statement, not a question. I nodded. The bandstand with the microphones and amplifiers made that pretty obvious.
“We have a band start at nine on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights,” I said.
“Do you ever have live music for your dinner guests?”
I gestured to one of the speakers on the wall. “We use canned music.”
“Mr. McGarrity, I don’t have a red cent to my name, and I haven’t eaten in two days,” shesaid. “I’ll play for your guests in exchange for a meal.”
My God. The raw, naked hope in her face was almost too much for me. My eyes blurred alittle bit. People tell me sometimes that I’m a soft touch. I figure that charity never hurts thegiver. I was going to feed her. There was no way I was going to turn someone away after theyapproached me like that.
“What kind of music do you play?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I can play anything. For dinner music,” she gestured toward the customerssitting at the tables, “something soft and relaxing, loud enough to be noticed, but not so loud that people can’t carry on a conversation. People’s behavior is different with live music, you know.
They stay longer after they finish their meals and order more drinks.”
In addition to the beauty of her voice, her accent was cultured. This girl was raised withmoney, or at least well educated. And she hadn’t been on the streets long enough for hervocabulary to degenerate. She didn’t even speak like a normal kid.
I took a deep breath, and then she said in a rush, “Let me just play a couple of songs. Okay?Before you decide. Please? And then, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, I’ll go.”
Go where? Go out and stand beside the highway with her thumb out? Just the thought of herhitchhiking, getting in strangers’ cars and ending the night raped and dead in a ditch, scared the hell out of me. If I read about her in the newspaper tomorrow, I’d never be able to forgive myself.
Nodding, I said, “Let’s hear what you’ve got.” I pulled a menu out from under the bar andpushed it across to her. “Give me your order, and you can play until your food is ready.”
Looking down the menu, she raised her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m takingadvantage. Could I get the baked flounder and a salad? Is that too much?”
“What kind of dressing on your salad?” I answered.
“Oil and vinegar, or Italian. Something like that.”
“Put your backpack over there,” I said, pointing to a corner behind the bar and off to the sideof the kitchen door.
She dropped the pack there, and as she passed me, I got a whiff of her. She and her clotheshadn’t been washed in far too long. Taking her guitar case up to the bandstand, she pulled out a beautiful Martin D45 with an electronic pickup. She could hock the guitar for enough money to get anywhere in the country, and eat well besides. The way she handled it, I had a feeling she’d starve to death before that happened.
Plugging into an amp, she checked the tuning on the guitar, flipped on the power, and hit anote. She turned the volume down, pulled a stool up to the edge of the bandstand and sat down.
I watched as she fitted finger picks on her right hand, and I wondered exactly what I wasabout to hear. All of her movements were efficient, practiced. She had played for audiencesbefore, and she didn’t show a shred of nervousness.
I went and turned off the canned music and nodded to her. Most of my customers glancedher way, and some turned and watched her. Everyone was curious. I knew all these folks, and they were good people. Unless she sounded like a tortured cat, they would be polite.
And then she started to play. I recognized the tune immediately. Segovia, played on a steelstring guitar. As she promised, the music filled the room, but it was quiet enough that it wasn’t intrusive. I listened in astonishment as she flawlessly negotiated the complex piece of classical music. When she finished, she moved right into a Frank Sinatra tune, and from there a song off an old Mason Williams album. She hadn’t been bragging when she said she could play anything.
“You’re going to screw up your reputation as a hard-boiled ex-Marine,” Kathy said with achuckle when she brought Cecily’s meal from the kitchen, startling me out of some kind oftrance I had fallen into watching Cecily play.
“At least she’s paying for her meal,” Kathy continued. “Normally you just feed down-andoutvets who offer nothing but a hard-luck story.”
“I don’t have a need to impress people with what kind of hard-ass I am,” I told her. “Toomany of the guys I knew like that got their asses shot off trying to be a hero.”
I waived Cecily over, and she came to the bar and perched on one of the barstools. She ateslowly, carefully chewing small bites. That about broke my heart. She was used to being hungry, and knew wolfing it down might cause her to be sick.
“Would you like something to drink besides water?” I asked.
She gave me a startled look, then looked at the taps and bottles lined up behind the bar. “Aglass of white wine would be nice,” she said. “Do you pour a sauvignon blanc by the glass?”
Where in the hell did this girl come from? And what happened to her to put her in this kindof personal hell out on the Colorado plains? I poured her wine and set it down in front of her. She swirled the wine in the glass, smelled it, and took a sip. That earned me an even more startled look.
“Is this really what you normally pour as bar wine?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“It’s what I pour for dirty, starving hitchhikers who play Segovia on fine, vintage guitars,” Ianswered. The fact that she recognized the quality of the bottle I’d opened for her told mevolumes as to how she used to live.
She blushed. “Thank you.”
“Do you sing?” I asked.
“Yes. Is it all right if I sing?”
“Do whatever you like. From what I’ve heard so far, you’ve got more than a meal coming ifyou want to keep playing. I’ll pay you fifty bucks to play until eight.”
More customers had come in, but none had left. When she walked back onto the stage,everyone quieted and looked toward her expectantly. She started picking an intricate tune that settled into Bob Dylan’s Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right. She opened her mouth, and at the first note every other sound in the bar stopped. Even the noises in the kitchen stopped.
She sang in a strong, clear, pure mezzo-soprano, dropping into the contralto range on the tag line of each verse. Finishing the song, she immediately launched into Joni Mitchell’s Chelsea Morning, sung soprano, and followed that with Loretta Lynn’s Coal Miner’s Daughter, her voice taking on a twang that would make any hillbilly proud.
On Chelsea Morning, she took the notes on the words ‘heard’ and ‘pipes’ so high that Inervously glanced at my glassware.
Woke up, it was a Chelsea morningAnd the first thing that I heardWas a song outside my windowAnd the traffic wrote the wordsIt came ringing up like Christmas bellsAnd rapping up like pipes and drums
Her voice was flawless, with no reaching for notes, either on the high or low end of anyregister in which she chose to sing. I had never heard anything like it in my life.
Kathy, my assistant manager, took a glass of water up to the stage around the fourth songand set it next to her on the floor. Two songs later, one of the cowboys came over to the bar.
“Have you got a bowl or something, Jake? She should have a hat or something. You know,something people can put tips in.”
“Why don’t you loan her your hat, Mel?” I asked him with a grin.
“Hell, Jake, she probably wouldn’t want to touch the money after it sat in my sweat allnight,” he said, grinning back at me. I had to admit, the battered lump of felt sitting on his head had seen better days.
I went back to the kitchen and got a bowl. When I handed it to him, he dropped a dollar in it,then walked back to his table. His friends also dropped money in the bowl, and he took it up and set it on the stage in front of her.
She smiled at him without missing a note. A thousand-watt smile that made him blush.
She played almost solid for over an hour, transitioning from folk to country, to gospel, toblues, even including a Billy Holiday song and a couple from Barbra Streisand. Her vocal range was incredible as she moved effortlessly from soprano to contralto. I don’t know how many people in a cowboy honky-tonk bar would recognize a classically-trained voice, but I did.
When she finished, I handed her fifty dollars and said, “If you want to come back, I’ll payyou a hundred dollars a night to play and sing between six and eight. Five nights a week,Wednesday through Sunday.”
“Seriously?”
“As serious as a heart attack,” I said. “Do you know where you’re going to spend the night?There’s a motel just a block down. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean.”
Looking at the money in her hand, she said, “I can’t afford a motel. I have a sleeping bag.I’ll find a place to crash.” She glanced over her shoulder at the cowboys who started her tipcollection. From what I’d seen, she did pretty well on tips. “Maybe someone will offer me abed.”
That did it. I had seen women in Afghanistan who had fallen so far that they were willing tosell their body for a scrap to eat or a warm place to sleep. Every protective instinct I had leaped up and opened my mouth.
“You can stay at my place,” I said.
She looked at the tattoo on my forearm, then back up to my face. A smile crooked thecorners of her mouth, but it didn’t change the sad look in her eyes. “I’ve never slept with ajarhead before.”
Shaking my head, I said, “That’s not what I’m offering. You can stay in my spare room. Ithas its own bath. And you can do some laundry.”
Looking down at herself, she murmured, “That would be nice.” Raising her eyes to my face,she seemed to study me. “Mr. McGarrity, you’re too nice for your own good. How do you know I’m not a drug addict that will cut your throat and clean you out before morning?”
“I don’t sleep that heavy,” I said. “I’ll take the chance. As for being too nice, I’m not. Noone has ever taken advantage of me twice.”
I asked Kathy to cover the bar until I got back. Grabbing her backpack, I said, “Come on,I’ll take you over there.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I’ll drop you off and come back.”
We went out to my pickup and I dumped her pack in the back. She brought the guitar insidewith her, settling it on the floor and holding the neck of the case between her legs.
“That’s a nice guitar,” I said.
“It was my twelfth birthday present.”
“It’s a D45, isn’t it? Rosewood?” I asked, referring to the guitar’s body.
“Yes.”
The last time I’d seen an older D45 on sale of the quality she was playing, the shop wasasking twelve thousand dollars. Someone had loved her to give that to a twelve year old.
“Do you play?” she asked. “You seem to know a lot about guitars.”
“Yes, but I’m light years away from your class. I have a D35 at home. My brother’s band isour standard house band. They’ll be playing tomorrow night.”
“Do you play with them?”
“Sometimes. He and I started the band in high school, and he kept it going when I joined theMarines.”
She nodded. We rode in silence for a while, then abruptly she said, “Mr. McGarrity, ifanyone ever tells me that chivalry is dead, I’m going to send them to the Roadhouse Bar andGrill. It’s been a long time since anyone was this nice to me.”

AUTHOR BIO:
BR Kingsolver is the author of the Telepathic Clans series (The Succubus Gift, Succubus Unleashed, Succubus Rising, and Succubus Ascendant) and Broken Dolls, a paranormal thriller as well as the contemporary romance Trust: a truly modern romance, and the upcoming I’ll Sing for My Dinner. I grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, among writers, artists and weird Hispanic and Native American myths and folklore.
I’ve lived all over the U.S. and earned a living doing everything from making silver and turquoise jewelry, to construction to computers. I currently live in Baltimore and Albuquerque.

AUTHOR MEDIA LINKS:
Website: http://www.brkingsolver.com/Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/brkingsolverTwitter: http://twitter.com/BRKINGSOLVERGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5823296.B_R_KingsolverAmazon: http://www.amazon.com/BR-Kingsolver/e/B007XDV5OW/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1424451303&sr=1-2Email: brkingsolver@yahoo.com

Book Blitz: Trust by BR Kingsolver. I think I love him. But can I trust him? He makes me happy. Can I trust myself?

GENRE: Contemporary Romance/New Adult

SYNOPSIS:

The history of my relationships reads like the Titanic meets a tornado during an earthquake. Disaster after disaster. For some reason, I'm always attracted to lying jerks. I finally decided that it's better to just have a good time and no one gets hurt. That philosophy worked for me the last two years of college. 

Then I let myself get pulled in again by a pair of broad shoulders, pretty hazel eyes, and kisses that turned my brain to mush. Of course he was lying to me. All my friends told me something wasn't right, but I'm such a fool. 

When it all went wrong, I didn't expect his tall, dark, and handsome roommate being there to catch me. I think I love him. But can I trust him? He makes me happy. Can I trust myself? 

Ashley graduated from college and isn’t looking for romance. What she needs is a job and the career she’s worked so hard to achieve. Can her dream of working overseas survive a man who seeks to capture her heart?


EXCERPT:


When Jeff came over after his softball game, I still had a lot of anger and resentment that I hadn’t taken out on Marcie. I didn’t even know it was there until I had another convenient target.He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, but I pulled away. Walking away from him, I said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were rich? Or that your father’s company is Owens, Hart and Collins?”“You never asked me. Why, is it important?”“I guess it isn’t if this is just a temporary fling. I just think it’s polite to let a girl know that you’re never going to take her home to meet your parents. It sort of puts everything in perspective so that she can decide whether or not she’s comfortable just being a casual fuck.”“Ashley, what is going on? I’m not trying to hold anything back from you. We hardly know each other.”“Yeah. I was asked earlier today, what your last name is and I didn’t know it. My fault, I guess. Normally you find that sort of thing out on a first date, but I guess we haven’t had our first date yet, have we? We just jumped into the fucking part and left the introductions for later.”“I’m not the one who did the seducing,” he said. “I told you that we should wait. You’re the one who was hot to trot, and now that’s my fault? You’re being incredibly ungrateful. I think you’ve got issues, and I’m more than willing to let you work them out. Good night.”
He didn’t exactly slam the door, but he didn’t close it gently, either. I stood staring at it with my mouth open. What the hell just happened? The last thing I wanted to do was fight with Jeff. When he knocked on the door, my heart jumped in my chest, and I skipped to the door to answer it. And then I opened my mouth, and the same bitchy crap I’d laid on Marcie earlier came spilling out.
Purchase Links:
AMAZON * SMASHWORDS * B&N


AUTHOR BIO:
BR Kingsolver is the author of the Telepathic Clans series (The Succubus Gift, Succubus Unleashed, Succubus Rising, and Succubus Ascendant) and Broken Dolls, a paranormal thriller as well as the contemporary romance Trust: a truly modern romance, and the upcoming I’ll Sing for My Dinner. I grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, among writers, artists and weird Hispanic and Native American myths and folklore. 
I’ve lived all over the U.S. and earned a living doing everything from making silver and turquoise jewelry, to construction to computers. I currently live in Baltimore and Albuquerque.

AUTHOR MEDIA LINKS:
Website: http://www.brkingsolver.com/Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/brkingsolverTwitter: http://twitter.com/BRKINGSOLVERGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5823296.B_R_KingsolverAmazon: http://www.amazon.com/BR-Kingsolver/e/B007XDV5OW/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1424451303&sr=1-2Email: brkingsolver@yahoo.com

Book Blog Tour: love surfaced by Michelle Lynn. He was supposed to be off limits. Enter the Giveaway and you can win.

The equations are simple.

Piper Ashby + Brad Ashby = Twin SiblingsBrad Ashby + Tanner McCain = Best FriendsPiper Ashby + Tanner McCain = Off limits
Tanner and I abided by the rules. We stayed on our designated sides of the relationship circle.
Ignoring swarming butterflies.Brushing off skipped heartbeats.Settling on lingering stares.
Here’s the secret … a hand extended over that invisible line once, exponentially changing the equation. I was convinced we could make our relationship work until Tanner broke the trust he embedded in me from the age of seven.
One deceit of mega proportions and the relationship we built for that short month vanished. I swore never to speak to him again and it’s worked. Until now—two years later, when my brother’s wedding places me face-to-face with the best man—Tanner McCain.
Leaving one equation to be solved. Can love surface twice?


GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24809322-love-surfaced?from_search=true






Amazon

Amazon UK  


Amazon CA

B & N 

iBooks





“Piper.” He hesitates before joining me on the cement stoop. I question why he even searched me out even though it’s been his MO lately, popping up wherever I am. He places his arm across my shoulders and pulls me into him, which only brings a ripple of warmth to the pit of my stomach. “Come here.” My head burrows into his strong chest, and his hand soothingly roams up and down my back. I sink into him. With the comfort of his arm, the tension in my shoulders from placing fifth in my swim meet slowly releases.Refusing to let him make my mind race with his confusing affection, I sit up. Swiping the tears from my eyes, I honestly confess, “Tanner, it was my last shot.” He begins to shake his head, but I stop him, “No, I have to realize it. My dream of swimming in the Olympics is over.” I rise to my feet, and the heaviness in my chest sinks back into place now that I’m out of his embrace.He follows me over to the oak tree. Coming up behind me, his hot breath tickles my neck. My pulse races into overdrive, reminding me of how badly I want him. Why does he keep leading me on? He continues to toe the line between friendship and more, but he never actually steps over it. Each time his hand brushes mine or his eyes search me out, my heart stops beating for a moment as I hope this is it—until he crushes the fluttering butterflies and steps away. I close my eyes from the view of Michigan University’s football stadium because I need to calm my insides. “Why are you here?” He should be with my twin brother, preparing for their own meet. “You should be in warm-ups.” His hands land on my shoulders, and he leans down. At our connection, a tingle spreads through my body. “I saw you leaving the pool house.” His voice cracks. I hear his deep intake of breath.“That’s not what I’m asking, Tanner.” When I turn around, I almost collapse when I come face-to-face with this gorgeous guy. He’s absolutely one hundred percent the perfect male. My perfect male. His brown hair is tucked away in his MU hat that’s flipped backward. His lips and cheeks are rosy from the early spring chill in the air. With only a sweatshirt and track pants on, he’s the epitome of a college student. His good looks remind me of the unbearable yearning that pulls me toward him.His eyes are so transparent that I can see the torment of his inner turmoil from our situation, meaning nothing has changed for him. He’s as conflicted as ever because I’m his best friend’s sister. “I don’t know.” His voice is soft, caressed with the sweetness he’s shown me the last few months. My stomach drops at his words. I want to grab his face with my hands and beg him to admit that the small seed of attraction has grown over the years and we can no longer dodge around it. Instead, I stand there, with my hands at my sides, silently pining for the day he acknowledges our desire for one another.
“Then, that’s a problem.” My heart thumps as I sidestep him and weave through the sporadic clumps of snow that have yet to melt from the harsh winter. 








Michelle moved around the Midwest most of her life, transferring from school to school before settling down in the outskirts of Chicago ten years ago, where she now resides with her husband and two kids.  She developed a love of reading at a young age, which helped lay the foundation for her passion to write.   With the encouragement of her family, she finally sat down and wrote one of the many stories that have been floating around in her head. When she isn’t reading or writing, she can be found playing with her kids, talking to her mom on the phone, or hanging out with her family and friends.  But after chasing around twin preschoolers all day, she always cherishes her relaxation time after putting the kids to bed.






Facebook: / Twitter: @michellelynnbks
Website:  / Goodreads: 



 Hosted by:




a Rafflecopter giveaway