Lisa Chalmers's Blog, page 9
October 26, 2013
Guest Blogger: Shauna Aura Knight
Please welcome author Shauna Aura Knight to the blog today. So glad to have her here today.
Lisa, thanks for having me as a guest on your blog!
The paranormal romance genre is so popular these days. I wanted to explore what makes the supernatural, the otherworldly, the magical, so endlessly fascinating? I mean, I myself must find it captivating since everything I write has some kind of a fantasy or sci-fi element to it. Even with the movies I watch, I’m willing to put up with the lamest of plots as long as there’s magic or superpowers.
Without getting too woo-woo, I think there’s are things below the surface of the “real world.” I think there’s the occasional magic, the occasional strange or psychic phenomena, even the occasional miracle. And I think that those stories inspire us and entrance us. Or maybe it goes back to hundreds, thousands of years ago, when we huddled around the fire having no idea how the world worked. At the Winter Solstice, would the nights really just keep growing longer? Or would the sun ever come back? Imagine what it must have been like, when the natural world held a mystery and a magic and even a bit of fear.
Sometimes I think it’s a little thrilling to think that there are people out there with magic powers. That there are werewolves, vampires, ghosts, psychics, superheroes, and magic-users. That there is something beyond the daily grind of our reality. And in romance, I think it’s particularly alluring that there’s sexy guys with supernatural abilities courting the heroine, or, that the heroine herself has magical powers.
My first novella, “Werewolves in the Kitchen,” deals with Ellie, who ends up being lovers–and then being mated–with two werewolves, Kyle and Jake. They are stronger than average and in addition, they have that intense primal attraction. I think there’s something pretty enticing about werewolves and shapeshifters, about a guy that is so hot for you his eyes glow amber and he has a hard time keeping himself from shifting into his animal form. Imagine a guy with super strength who could fight off powerful enemies for you, a guy who absolutely loves the way you smell and would do anything for you, a guy who has incredible stamina and endurance, a guy whom you have a psychic connection to. With Ellie, she has not just one oversexed shapeshifter to deal with but two of them.
I think with paranormal romance, there’s so much potential for the traditional alpha hero to get an interesting spin, whether it’s a werewolf, a vampire, or some other magic.
I have a novel coming out in a few weeks, “The Autumn Leaves, the White Dress.” I’d call it an urban fantasy more than a paranormal romance. The story is romantic, with some very spicy scenes between Jack and Meredith, but the story itself is about loss and grieving. To be a true romance, the story has to have some kind of a happy ending, and this story deals with the death of one of the characters.
I’m not giving away any spoilers– the paranormal/fantasy element of the story is that Meredith dreams her own death at the beginning of the story. And later, Jack deals with her death at a Pagan/Wiccan Samhain (Halloween) ritual where a trance medium brings him a message from Meredith’s spirit.
For my part, this kind of paranormal and psychic phenomena isn’t really that far from the truth. While it’s not common, I have heard of—and experienced—prophetic dreams and spirit communication. I facilitate community rituals for Pagan and Earth-centered communities, and I have a book on Dreamwork that will be coming out in a few months. In my “White Dress” story, the paranormal elements are a little bit more, how to put it…reliable, than they typically are in real life. In reality, prophetic dreams like that, or spirit communication that is that direct, is pretty rare.
The story itself was inspired by a dream I had, though it wasn’t prophetic. Actually, a lot of my fiction is inspired by my own dreams.
I think the allure of that kind of magic and paranormal phenomena is that connection with that something larger, and that we can hear real and clear messages from our beloved dead. I think that we want to know on some level that there’s an order and a pattern to the universe.
My story “A Winter Knight’s Vigil” that’s coming out in December is probably the most subtle magic of all the stories I’ve written. Amber and Tristan are on a retreat in a cabin in the woods with their coven, and when things get hot and heavy between them, they struggle with the promises they made to their coven, as coven members aren’t supposed to date. Then they both find themselves facing their own personal shadows and fears during intense ecstatic rituals. I facilitate rituals like that with some frequency when I travel around the country, however, some folks not used to ritual work that induces trance through dancing, drumming, and singing might find it to be a paranormal, magical.
When I teach workshops, whether they are psychic development workshops, dreamwork, or when I’m facilitating rituals to get people into a deep ecstatic trance state, I think that people are looking to touch the fingertips of that magic, that something larger. Maybe you call it the divine, maybe you call it the Force, maybe it’s just the universe at work. I think that many of us want to see that universe at work. We want to understand it. We want to know there’s an order to the pattern.
But we also want to know that there’s something special beneath the surface, something potent and inexplicable and wild and utterly fascinating. I think that people tend to envy the folks that have touched that something beyond. The truth is that many people lament to me that they can’t meditate, that they don’t have psychic experiences, that they can’t get visions at will. And then every once in a while, they find a way to open to that experience. And no, it’s not like in a fantasy book where people zap people with lightning bolts, or where people shapeshift into wolves. But it’s still a magic. Just a subtle magic. That subtle magic is all around us, but we have to get better at listening to find it.
Some of the stories I have planned for the future involve the flashier magic—vampires, faeries, psychic mages, and big massive epic fantasy battles with armies and elves and warriors. But I think at the core, I’ll always also deal with those more subtle magics. The little magics that are just rippling under the surface of the water, just out of reach. The magic of the shadows we face, the dark night, the personal transformation we each go through to become who we could be.
What inspires you about paranormal fiction?
“Werewolves in the Kitchen” is available as part of the “Wild Shifters” anthology:
Jupiter Gardens Press: http://jupitergardenspress.com/shop/wild-shifters/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Wild-Shifters-Shauna-Aura-Knight-ebook/dp/B00F6EB4ZK
Connect with Shauna Aura Knight online:
Find excerpts of all three stories at http://shaunaknightauthorartist.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/ShaunaKnightAuthorArtist
Keep posted for upcoming giveaways and more!
Bio:
Shauna Aura Knight is an author and artist. Her work is inspired by the mythic stories of heroes, of swords and magic, and of the darkness we each must overcome. That the challenges we face shape us, and help each character—each person–to become heroes. Shauna travels nationally offering workshops on community leadership, facilitation techniques, and personal transformation. Her paranormal romance novella Werewolves in the Kitchen is available as part of the Wild Shifters anthology Her urban fantasy The White Dress, The Autumn Leaves becomes available early November 2013 and A Winter Knight’s Vigil in December 2013.
Shauna’s new (and still under construction) web site is at www.shaunaauraknight.com
[image error]
October 24, 2013
Guest Blogger: Joan Reeves
Please welcome author Joan Reeves to the blog today. So glad to have her here with us and she has a giveaway for the lucky commenters.
Love At First Sight?
by Joan Reeves
What a treat to be on this blog that celebrates the often other-worldly realm of love. Don’t run away, but that’s not the kind of love story I write. My stories, full of romance and passion – not to mention sex and humor – depend only on the magic of love itself. That condition wherein a man and a woman discover that they are made for each other.
Ah, that kind of love is true magic as anyone who knows it will attest. Sometimes that love occurs in an instant. I know many couples who have been married for scores of years who said they took one look and knew in that instant that they were going to marry that person.
Head over heels in love at first sight. Every culture has an expression meaning love at first sight. In Italy, they call it colpo di fulmine which, roughly translated, means struck by a lightning bolt.
Does love at first sight really exist? Or is it a figment of our collective imagination? I think it exists, and there may be a sound physiological reason for love at first sight, but perhaps it should be called something else.
Exploring Love at First Sight
For my latest romantic, comedy Scents and Sensuality, I did a lot of research about the Science of Smell in relation to Sex Appeal. I’ve always been fascinated by smell. Maybe it’s because I had a mother who wore the most wonderful perfume. I can remember thinking she smelled better than any other person I knew. When she hugged me, the most wonderful fragrance wafted around us.
I couldn’t pronounce the name of my mother’s perfume then. I can now, but I won’t be purchasing the fragrance anytime soon. Mom’s favorite scent was by Lucien LeLong. The parfum came in a bottle as beautiful as the smell. Recently, I priced it online and was dismayed to discover it was $250.00 for a quarter ounce.
Perhaps that is what created my love for fine perfumes and my interest in the science of smell.
Smell, So Primitive and Powerful
Smell is the most primitive of all our senses. We inhale and odor molecules float into our noses, traveling back to the nasal cavity behind the bridge of the the nose. There, those odor molecules get absorbed by the mucosa containing receptor cells on which there are microscopic hairs called cilia. About 5 million of these receptor cells fire impulses to the olfactory bulb, or smell center, in the brain.
If you kill a brain neuron, it won’t re-grow. Neither will cells in the eyes or ears, but you grow new nasal neurons about every month. These neurons wave in the air much like sea anemones. When your olfactory bulb detects something, it signals your cerebral cortex and sends a message straight into your limbic system, that primitive, emotional part of the brain that houses your feelings and your desires.
Smell Differs
If a visual stimulation occurs, your brain immediately starts trying to process what you saw. The same thing occurs if you hear something. Your brain goes to work immediately to interpret the sound. That doesn’t happen when you smell something. You don’t need your brain to do anything. What you smell creates an immediate effect that needs no translation, thought, interpretation, or anything. The primitive part of your brain reacts immediately.
This is why you can smell something and immediately be transported to your grandmother’s front porch when she served hot cinnamon rolls on Saturday mornings when you visited. Smell is a sensory time machine. You smell, and bam! You remember an event, and the way you felt during that event. You can see it so clearly. Memories triggered by smell are sharper than other memories.
Love At First Smell
In Scents and Sensuality, heroine Amanda Whitfield, is a perfume designer. What a great career for a romance novel heroine because smell is so closely linked to sexual attraction. Scent goes hand in hand with sensuality. Knowledge of smell and sexual attraction is all about the science of pheromones, those below-conscious smells we all breathe in without knowing it.
When Amanda explains smell and the science of sex appeal to her Mr. Right, I hope you’ll find it as hilarious – and sexy – as I thought it was when I wrote the book. Yes, it is certainly true that love at first sight has little to do with sight and much to do with smell.
In fact, if you want to know how to attract a member of the opposite sex, be sure and read Scents and Sensuality!
Available at all ebook sellers including:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/SCENTS-and-SENSUALITY-ebook/dp/B00BTIDUHW/
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/scents-and-sensuality/id622554909?ls=1
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/scents-and-sensuality
Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/scents-and-sensuality-joan-reeves/1046247317
Book Giveaway
I’m giving away free copies of this romantic comedy. Make a comment and leave your email address, and I’ll send you a coupon for a free copy of Scents and Sensuality.
Bio: Joan Reeves writes Romantic Comedy. She’s multi-published in print, ebooks, and audiobooks. Her first ebook Just One Look was in the Top 100 Amazon Bestsellers, for more than 3 months, and she has followed that up with 7 more novels and 1 nonfiction. Look for her next book Cinderella Blue, Book 2: San Antone Two-Step, in October/November 2013.
[image error]
The Quarterly Book Release Blog Hop
Hi all, sorry for the late posting of this. Anyways, welcome to my post for the wonderful Quarterly Book Release Book Hop. I’m giving away a couple ebook copies of my debut paranormal romance IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES and be sure to enter the grand prize draw as well for a chance to win a $55 Amazon GC (Open to international readers!) or a swag pack (ebooks for international winners, the pack for a US/CA winner!).
I’m excited to announce that the print version of IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES should be live and released just in time for Halloween!! I’ve been busy this month with formatting, doing a final read over to fix any tiny little errors I found and picking the perfect fonts, which surprisingly is so much more time consuming than one would think. I’m so looking forward to the print release, and making it more widely available for readers who prefer to not read on a kindle, nook, iPhone or their computer like I do.
Here’s an excerpt from IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES:
Excerpt:
Avery walked over to the coffee table and set the box down. She lifted the top to find two dozen of her favorite peach roses nestled in tissue paper. Their sweet fragrance suddenly filled the room. As she reached for the card, that familiar coolness appeared behind her once again.
Happy fourth anniversary. Love you forever, Josh.
She could almost hear his voice in her ear, reading the words right along with her.
She dropped the card back inside the box, feeling unnerved. Her fingers moved up the stems of the roses, the surprising chill of the fresh stems on her fingertips helping her calm down.
“You never did tell me what we were going to do today,” she said, as if she expected him to answer. Like he was right there with her, about to walk out of the kitchen with two glasses of lemonade in hand, his baseball cap on his head, his nose sunburned from too much time working in the yard.
“It was going to be a surprise.” He moved around to stand beside her. He desperately wanted to reach out, to push that strand of hair back behind her ear so he could see her face unobstructed. He was desperate for her to feel him, really feel him, and not have to fool himself into thinking that some part of her sensed he was there, that whatever their connection was, it hadn’t been completely severed. That if he just held out hope long enough…
She reached up, brushing the strand of hair out of her face before taking one of the roses out of the box.
“You know, I wanted to wait until today to tell you about the baby. Then you walked in when I had that pillow under my shirt…” She laughed softly, inhaling the scent of the rose before pressing it lightly against her cheek, a slow smile crossing her face in memory. “And I tried telling you I was just stretching the shirt because it shrank in the wash…you had this dumbstruck expression on your face, and I said I think there’s something I have to tell you, and I called you Daddy.”
He nodded, flashing back to that moment. “And I said, are you kidding me?”
“I guess it’s good I told you then. You never would have known otherwise. That would have hurt more.” She picked up another of the roses, her fingers playing with the edge of a petal. “You know, I’m even happier about the baby since you’re gone. He’s my last gift from you.” Her voice wobbled. “My best gift from you.”
a Rafflecopter giveaway
a Rafflecopter giveaway
');
// ]]>
October 21, 2013
Guest Blog: Diane Burton
Please welcome author Diane Burton to the blog. Glad to have her here today.
Memory
Does anyone else have a memory like a sieve? I maintain it’s because the brain can only hold so much info. When it’s full, it has to kick out bits and pieces—sometimes the booted out info is important. Like a niece’s birthday or a guest appearance on a blog.
I have to make lists, write appointments on the wall calendar (and the pocket calendar in my purse), and schedule reminders to pop up on my computer screen. The important most thing, I’ve found, is to make sure every appointment is written on the appropriate calendar. The next most important thing is to look at the calendar every day. Simple, right?
Now, I could tell you the reason I forget things is we moved last month and everything is in chaos. It really is. I haven’t found the wall calendar yet. I can “see” the box I put it in. I have yet to find that box. I could say that instead of unpacking boxes I’ve been in my “cave” (aka, my new house) writing like crazy on my new book. Also true.
Have you ever been so wrapped up in a project you just can’t put it down? Or walk away from it? That’s the way it is some days for a writer. You get so “in the zone” you don’t want to leave. Since that happens so rarely, you just have to grab the opportunity and not let go for fear it will never come back again.
So you forget to buy groceries, the laundry piles up, birthday cards don’t get mailed, and your roommate (or spouse) gets tired of calling for pizza and running out of underwear. Your niece, nephew, sister, brother get fed up with cards arriving a month (or 2 or 3) late. And you promise yourself you’ll do better next week/month/year.
Yet you can recite all the lines to Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home and almost all the Harry Potter movies.
Memory is a tricky thing. It holds onto extraneous information that you’d only need to play Trivial Pursuit or appear on Jeopardy.
So, mea culpa, Lisa for sending this post to you so late.
Blurb for One Red Shoe:
Wannabe writer rescues wounded spy while risking her heart.
Daria Mason’s life is too predictable. Nothing ever happens in her small Iowa town where everybody knows everybody else. But when she travels to New York City looking for a little excitement, she never expects to bring home a wounded spy.
From the moment agent Sam Jozwiak steals intel vital to US security from a Russian Mafia kingpin, Murphy’s Law takes over. No matter how he covers his tracks, the kingpin’s assassins find him. What’s worse than getting shot in the butt? Accepting help from an Iowa tourist.
Sam and Daria flee cross country with the assassins right behind them. Sharing danger and excitement—and a few kisses—with Sam soon has Daria convinced he’s the man for her. He thinks she’ll be better off once he’s out of her life for good. With their lives on the line, can she convince him they belong together?
Excerpt from One Red Shoe:
For the second time in her life, Daria Mason came face-to-face with a man pointing a weapon at her. A pervert, with unzipped jeans, wielded a green box knife. Because she’d raced into the restroom without checking out the situation, he now stood between her and the exit.
She was at the end of the proverbial rope. After walking in circles, she finally found a restroom and nobody was stopping her from using it. Especially not someone playing copycat with that guy in the movie who wore one red shoe.
“I am having a really bad day,” she declared in the don’t cross me voice she used on her brothers. As soon as her words echoed off the hideous pink and black tiled walls and floor, she lowered her voice. “You are in the wrong place, mister. Now zip up and get out.” She pointed straight-armed toward the door.
The man shook his head and set the flimsy knife on the counter. “Lady, you have more guts than sense. You are in the wrong place, at the wrong time.” His voice was even softer as hers. He eyed her with a look so dark and intense it paralyzed her like a hawk froze its prey.
One Red Shoe is available exclusively for Kindle: http://amzn.com/B00FDXRHZA
In January, it will be available in all ebook formats and in print.
Bio:
Diane Burton combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction and romance into writing science fiction romance. Besides the Switched series, she is the author of The Outer Rim series about strong women on the frontier of space. One Red Shoe is her first romantic suspense. She is also a contributor to the anthology How I Met My Husband. Diane and her husband live in Michigan. They have two children and two grandchildren.
For excerpts from her books, visit Diane’s blog: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/p/exc...
Connect with Diane Burton online
Website: http://dianeburton.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/dmburton72
Facebook: http://facebook.com/dianeburtonauthor
Goodreads: Diane Burton Author
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/dmburton72/
Diane Burton is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card to a lucky commenter. To enter, use the Rafflecopter below or http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/2013/...
The winner will be announced on October 31st.
Thanks, Lisa, for helping me celebrate the release of my newest book.
[image error]
October 18, 2013
Guest Blogger: Lyndi Lamont
Please welcome author Lyndi Lamont to the blog today. So glad to have her here.
A big thank you to Lisa Chalmers, for having me at her blog.
October is Halloween month, which means all things paranormal, horror and dark fantasy. I’ve always loved romance with paranormal and fantasy elements, but I was slow to write one. First I ventured from historical romance to futuristic romance. World building can be a challenge, but it can also be a lot of fun. When I took an online class in Creating Fantasy Worlds and one of the assignments was to create a fantasy world. Fortunately, we had specific questions to answer about what type of world and society: social roles, societal rules, penalties for breaking them, the role of magic in the society, etc.
From this beginning, I created a kingdom called Velosia in which magic is openly practiced, the old Roman gods and goddesses are still worshipped, and werewolves fight to conceal their existence. My twist on the magic was that magical powers come from doing good for others, including the sharing of physical pleasures, like lovemaking. Since that didn’t fit with Christian Medieval society, I decided that in Velosia, sexually permissive Roman-style paganism survived the Dark Ages. The main superstition in this society is fear of shapeshifters.
The concept led to a steamy novella called Ilona’s Wolf: A Fairy Tale, in which a werewolf rescues a princess, in a twist on the Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale.
This is how the world is introduced in the story:
Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Velosia, magic was more precious than gold. The few who possessed it were highly prized, for not everyone could learn to wield the magic, only those who were sorcerers born.
Unscrupulous men tried to control the sorcerers, to use the magic for their own purposes. For power, wealth and control. But the magicians paid a terrible price. For in this world, magic was designed to do good. Use of magic for selfish or evil reasons drained them of their power. And so the villains of the kingdom continually sought new sources of the precious magic.
Now an evil sorcerer schemed to gain control of the kingdom. What he could not bewitch, he tried to destroy. One courageous knight stood in the way, until he was cursed and banished.
Our story begins with a young woman in a crimson cloak walking through the forest, followed by a woodsman and a wolf. A familiar tale, you might say. Ah, but she is no common girl, and this is no ordinary wolf.
My muse didn’t lead me in the expected route where the werewolves cycles are tied to the phases of the moon and he’s a victim of his biology. In Velosia, werewolves are born with the ability to shapeshift at will. Except for my hero Rolf, who starts the story trapped in wolf form, after being cursed by the evil Bruno of Grimmdorn, the King’s sorcerer who has plans to take over the kingdom. The only thing that can break Rolf’s curse is the blood of a royal.
What is your favorite kind of fantastical creature? I’m torn between werewolves and dragon shifters.
Lyndi Lamont
Ilona’s Wolf: A Fairy Tale Romance by Lyndi Lamont
Imagine a world filled with magic, a tormented knight, a damsel in distress, an evil sorcerer…
While picking herbs in the woods, Princess Ilona is rescued from a woodsman by a wolf. When the creature licks her wounds, it is suddenly transformed into a man. A very handsome, very naked man who makes passionate love to her in a glade. She has dreamed of a handsome knight to aid her cause, but a werewolf?
Cursed by an evil wizard, Rolf was trapped in wolf form until he tasted the blood of a royal. Now he must escort the princess on a hazardous journey back to the castle to stop an ill-fated wedding and face the evil wizard who placed the evil curse on Rolf.
Passion flares between them, but both know there is no future for a princess and a werewolf. Or is there? In a world where magic and passion combine, anything may be possible.
(Previously published by Amber Quill Press)
Now available at the Amazon Kindle store: http://amzn.com/B00FQWC14U and Barnes & Noble for Nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ilonas-wolf-lyndi-lamont/1117134820.
Author’s bio:
Lyndi Lamont is the racy alter ego of romance author Linda McLaughlin. Writing sexy stories gives her a license to be naughty, at least between the pages of her books! She has written several full-length novels plus numerous short stories and novellas, ranging from historical to futuristic. She believes that love is unending and universal, and enjoys transporting her readers into a different world where her characters learn that, in the journey of life, love is the sweetest reward.
You can find her online at http://www.lyndilamont.com
Lyndi’s Love Notes blog: http://www.lyndilamont.com/blog
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LyndiLamont
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont
October 17, 2013
Guest Blogger: Lauren Linwood
Please welcome author Lauren Linwood to the blog today. So happy to have her here to share with us some tidbits about her research for OUTLAW MUSE.
I love history (good thing I write historical romances!), and I enjoy doing research for my novels. One tidbit that sparked some the plot in Outlaw Muse came from reading about English and Scot noblemen who invested in cattle and land in the US between 1867-1887. These wealthy men were always looking to increase their coffers, and many started investing in the US as far back as the 1840s when the building of railroads exploded in America.
Between 1870-1881, capital invested in the American cattle industry earned over 33% annually. That got the attention of the British aristocracy, and they bought land, developed ranches on them, and purchased cattle.
In Outlaw Muse, my hero Daman is a third son, so his lot in life is pretty pitiful since his eldest brother has the title and all the holdings that went with it. Daman is a bit scandalous because he writes stage plays, but his muse and a beloved brother have recently died. At loose ends, I had his brother, the earl, send him to America to check on the Rutledge family investments. Daman rides on the Chisholm Trail and upon arrival in Kansas, he comes across a hanging. Thinking Americans are little better than barbarians for this practice, he’s stunned when he sees it’s a woman about to be executed.
Without thinking, he rescues the damsel in distress and takes off with her in tow. Along the way, Daman finds the muse he’s been missing that inspires him to write again . . . and a deep, lasting love with a beautiful stranger.
Excerpt:
“You’ll need to come with me.”
Serena stared at him in disbelief. “An unchaperoned woman in a man’s company? You must be insane.”
“It’s something the Chinese believe. If you save someone’s life, you are responsible for that person for the rest of your life.” Daman grinned. “I did save that pretty neck of yours.”
She blushed and looked down. A protective wave swept over Daman as he looked at her profile. He began thinking aloud.
“Now how to pull it off? “How about my ward? Yes, the American cousin and poor relation who has lost her parents.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I am twenty-five. A little long in the tooth for being anyone’s ward.”
“Hmm.” Daman thought, constructing the storyline as he spoke. “Still, a cousin could work. Maybe a loving but stern aunt raised you. She died and left you a nice inheritance, but you were taken advantage of by a man who wanted the money and not you.”
Serena gasped in outrage. Daman amended the story he spun.
“No, you look much too smart for that. Let’s say train robbers killed your fiancé. Or wait. A bank robber. Who’s that James character I’ve heard of?”
Daman smiled as the wheels in his mind turned. “Never mind. We can iron out the details later. We’ll make you heartbroken, practically a widow. Robert could have died a week before the wedding.”
“Robert?”
“You know, Robert, your dead fiancé. Now if we—”
Serena interrupted him. “For giving up writing, you have quite a fertile imagination.”
Buy link:
Other links for Lauren Linwood:
Website Facebook Twitter Blog Amazon Author Page Goodreads Author Page
Blurb:
Separated from her twin during the Orphan Train selection, schoolmarm Serena Sullivan searched for her brother Bill over fifteen years. Just as she gets a lead on his whereabouts, she is railroaded by a crooked sheriff and set to hang for the murder of the sheriff’s best friend.
English playwright Daman Rutledge has come to the American West on business for his brother when he witnesses a woman about to be executed. On impulse he rescues the beautiful stranger and goes on the run with her across the Kansas prairie. Along the way Daman finds the muse he’s been missing and loses his heart to the raven-haired beauty with haunting amber eyes.
As they try to escape the long arm of the law, Daman seeks to prove Serena’s innocence before it’s too late. They find love—and the truth—on a journey that changes their lives.
October 16, 2013
Guest Blogger: Beth Barany
Please welcome author Beth Barany to the blog today! So glad to have her here spotlighting her novella “Touchstone of Love”
The Paranormal in Everyday by Beth Barany
As a paranormal romance author, I’m inspired by the paranormal in the everyday. Like my heroine in “Touchstone of Love,” I often see a sparkle out of the corner of my eye, a shimmer that could be a something magical. My logical mind knows that magic is not possible in our mundane world. But my soul wants the whimsy, the surprise, the whiff of something sweet and mysterious.
So I put that wish for whimsy and magic into my fiction. Mix that with my love of medieval French cathedrals and I had the recipe for my first paranormal romance story, the novella “Touchstone of Love.”
Enjoy the excerpt!
To learn more about “Touchstone of Love” and the collection it’s in: Gargoyle: Three Enhantting Romance Novellas, go to http://author.bethbarany.com/books/ga....
EXCERPT OF “TOUCHSTONE OF LOVE” BY BETH BARANY
Julien of Beauvais stomped through the edge of town, through the fields and the stormy dark. He didn’t care about the wet and wind. He needed to find peace, he needed to find inspiration. It was time that he showed Master Stonemason Bernard de Chantilly all of his skill and artistry and present his master work to the community and get his approval, even if the master stonemason said Julien could not present his work at Michaelmas in five days.
The master stonemason didn’t like him and had not allowed him to present the previous year. But this year would be his. It was time he showed Master Bernard that he was ready to become a master mason and travel as a free man. His training was complete. He’d become a journeyman and done a short trip to Paris with Master Bernard a few years ago. Yet, most men at his age of twenty-six years had already started their own houses and were busy at work on the new cathedrals sprouting all over France.
He wanted to travel to Amiens, or Rennes, and direct his own house, with a woman at his side, and his own apprentices, and a passel of children. The time was now. His time. Oblivious to the cold and the wet, Julien stomped through the field in anger.
Not only was Master Stonemason Bernard a barrier to his dreams, but so was also Marie-Jeanne, his intended. She’d betrayed him with that farm boy from the count’s household. How was he going to create a home when his betrothed was ready to run off with another?
That was why, in his anger, he’d messed up the day’s stone carving work and had been relegated to sorting and breaking granite blocks for the other apprentices.
The rain pelted his face as Julien stumbled over something. He lost his footing and slipped to his knees. He put out his hands to brace himself and felt something soft. Soft and warm.
As gently as he could, as if he were handling a new-born lamb back at his parents’ farm, he felt for the shape of the soft and warm, and unmistakably touched a breast. A woman fallen in the fields. In the cloudy night with no light of the moon or stars, he reached out to learn more about her. She was alive by the warmth of her, and by the strong pulse at her throat, and not long outdoors, as her skin wasn’t completely chilled. He couldn’t leave her, so he scooped up her unconscious, naked form and headed for his workshop hidden in a copse of chestnut trees outside the walls of the town.
Once inside his small workshop, he stoked the fire under the cook pot. He rushed to cover her with his blanket and rubbed the hands and feet of the woman, something he’d seen the old midwife do to women who sometimes fainted in the fields. The woman breathed deeply, but remained asleep.
She was naked, curved in all the right places. Clearly well fed, luscious, but quite improperly dressed for a fall night, as if she’d been bathing and wandered off from her task.
Maybe she was under some spell that made her sleep. While he was a god-fearing man, and worshipped Mother Mary, he knew magic was in the land. He felt it when he worked the stone every day, but never talked about it.
The woman appeared calm, even peaceful as she slept. Definitely a woman, not a girl. Her long golden locks had come loose from her tie. She had rosy cheeks, pink lips, an angular nose, and a long column of a throat. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths.
What color were her eyes? He pulled the wool blanket up under her chin, and tucked it around her body to keep her warm. A tiny waist, a warm shapely rump, long legs, strong feet—he noticed all that as he chastely tucked the blanket around her. He’d noticed that her palms were strong, with callused, long fingers, almost as big as his. She must be a farmhand from a neighboring village, but he didn’t recognize her.
She was almost angelic in how she slept. His troubles forgotten, he made for his worktable on the other side of the one-room shed and picked up his chisel.
He’d found the inspiration he needed to start his work of art.
“Touchstone of Love” is in the collection, Gargoyle: Three Enchanting Romance Novellas.
ABOUT GARGOYLE: THREE ROMANCE NOVELLAS
The mysterious lives of gargoyles. They don’t just hang out on buildings. They right wrongs. They wreak havoc. And they change the lives of unsuspecting people who never see them coming.
ON A WING AND A PRAYER BY Kay Keppler (Humorous Contemporary)
The hero…
Craig knows that Bea is in trouble. But Craig can’t do anything about it—because he’s a garden gargoyle and Bea can’t hear his warnings. When unexpected visitors arrive to help, Craig finds the power he had all along. Now the neighborhood will never be the same.
TOUCHSTONE OF LOVE by Beth Barany (Time Travel)
The touchstone…
When a thunderstorm transports software expert Rose Waldman to thirteenth century France, she meets hunky stonemason Julien, who is secretly creating a gargoyle in defiance of his master mason. Can independent gadget loving Rose trust her life and heart to Julien, and can she really never go home again?
THE MILLER’S DAUGHTER BY Patricia Simpson (Historical)
And the freak just trying to get along…
Sentenced to burn at the stake for sorcery, Merofled volunteers to help jaded warrior Alaric kill a gargoyle that threatens her village. But Merofled soon discovers the gargoyle is not a monster at all. It’s a misfit just like her. Can she persuade Alaric to spare the gargoyle–and herself?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author, Beth Barany has been making up fantasy and adventure stories all her life. She writes magical tales of romance and adventure for women and girls to transport them to new worlds where anything is possible. To learn more about Beth and her fiction, visit her site: http://author.bethbarany.com. On Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/beth_barany. On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bethbarany.
BUY LINKS:
Amazon (international): http://viewbook.at/Gargoyle
All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-gargoylethreeenchantingromancenovellas-1281845-143.html
Barnes&Noble: print and ebook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gargo...
[image error]
October 15, 2013
Guest Blog: Gemma Juliana
Please welcome author Gemma Juliana to the blog today. Glad to have her here!
Halloween & The Paranormal
Hi Lis, thanks for inviting me as a guest on your blog!
I love this time of year, when the days grow shorter, evenings are cooler, and soups and chili taste hearty and heartwarming. Pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes, cranberries and eggnog are in the stores again, and feelings of harvest and gratitude abound.
Along with the darkness come ghosts, goblins – and nowadays – zombies and vampires. Fun and innocent Halloween costumes have given way to pretty grossed-out blood spatters, guts and gore to a large degree. What is our fascination with the macabre? Each year Halloween gets ‘darker’ than the year before.
In ancient Celtic lore, this is when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. In Ireland, Wales, The Isle of Man, Scotland and England, October 31st was an ending, while November 1st was a new beginning. Some call it Celtic New Year’s Day. It is known as Samhain, which means the end of summer, and it also marked the end of the harvest. Beyond lay the dark days of winter, introspection and conservation.
October 31st was the best time for spirit communication and ancestral worship. Old folks set a place at the table for departed loved ones. It was a time of mystery and connection with life in other dimensions. Fairies and ghosts often traveled through the veil. Since they weren’t all friendly spirits, bonfires were lit for protection, purification and cleansing.
Nowadays, paranormal events are springing up everywhere. Ghost hunting is a major phenomenon. Reality TV shows where ghost hunters investigate haunted houses and buildings for ghosts with high tech and costly equipment are all the rage. Psychic mediums or ‘channels’ speak with the dead and communicate messages to loved ones.
My story To Kiss A Leprechaun has old fairy magic, witches, spells, shapeshifting and romance, and fits well as a Halloween read. This novella is a fun read for any age.
When I wrote my latest story, it was going to be a Halloween story but I later broadened it to encompass the season of autumn. Please check for Autumn Masquerade on Amazon, where it will debut this week, or look for it on my website at www.gemmajuliana.com.
Blurb for Autumn Masquerade: When corporate executive Anna Spencer is guilted into being the psychic at a high society masquerade ball, her only hope for remaining undetected is to disguise herself so thoroughly that her coworkers don’t recognize her. Especially her boss, the person she wants to impress most, widower Richard Bentley. Anna learned at a young age that using her psychic gifts led to rejection and lost love. Will she be able to trick her way through the evening? How will Richard treat her if he finds out? This is a short novella written for the Halloween season.
Thanks for reading my blog post, and thanks, Lis, for inviting me! May your Halloween be all about the treats, not the tricks!
ABOUT GEMMA:
Gemma lives in a small cottage in north Texas, loves chocolate in liquid or solid forms, and all coffee blends. She starts every day with an old-fashioned cup of tea. She finds inspiration in life at the least expected moments. She loves hearing from readers.
Connect with Gemma
GemmaJuliana.com | Twitter | facebook
Buy Gemma’s Books on…
October 12, 2013
Guest Blogger: Martha O’Sullivan
Welcome Martha O’Sullivan to the blog today. So glad to have her here talking about her love of California.
My love affair with California began at the tender age of fifteen and continues today, three decades later. So it should come as no surprise that the book of my heart, which somehow turned into a trilogy, is set there.
Maybe it was the indescribable thrill of a Midwestern girl seeing the ocean for the first time (we have a lake in Chicago, but it’s not the same). Or the sight of unapologetically bronzed coeds with movie-star teeth driving silver metallic convertibles and playing volleyball in the sand. Perhaps the towering palm trees swaying against the impossibly blue sky? But that was in Southern Cal; my Chances trilogy takes place in Lake Tahoe and San Francisco, hundreds of miles north.
I was an unassuming only child of the 70′s, growing up in a place where a short, precious summer turned into a long, cold winter seemingly overnight. What else was I to do but read (thanks, Carolyn Keene)?
In high school, I often opted for the city bus because it stopped in front of the library. Just a branch, mind you, but they had loads of paperback books. And no matter the inventory du jour, I was drawn to the revolving wire rack of romance novels. Harlequin Presents, Danielle Steel and later on, Nora Roberts.
The books took me to places all over the world where effortlessly beautiful, wonderfully flawed heroines were swept off their feet by dynamic, irresistible heroes. I preferred the books to the afternoon soaps because I could imagine the characters in my mind’s eye. And if I found the ending disappointing or abrupt, I would simply continue the story in my head.
Writing such ideas down, however, took another thirty years.
In the interim, I went to college and met my own prince charming. And he took me to San Francisco on our honeymoon.
And, as cliché as it sounds, that’s where I left my heart. Well, part of it anyway. Because eight years and two babies later, he took me to Lake Tahoe for the very first time.
And my frisson with California moved even farther north.
I hope my books will take you there. And you’ll leave a little piece of yours behind too.
October marks the release of my second novel, Chance Encounter, the second installment in my Chances trilogy. We can all think of books we couldn’t wait to finish, yet at the same time didn’t want to end. That’s how I felt aboutSecond Chance; I wanted to continue the story through another set of eyes.
In Second Chance, star-crossed lovers Brian Rembrandt and Lindsay Foster get a second chance at love. And their wedding beneath the twinkling stars of Lake Tahoe serves as the perfect backdrop for another match made in heaven. But it’s more complicated than that…
The last thing Delaney Richards was looking for at college roommate Lindsay Foster’s wedding was love. The long hours at the office were finally paying off–she could all but feel the vice-presidency in her bones. And she was counting on this week in San Francisco to seal the deal. But first she had to get through the wedding–Delaney’s first since her own. Almost wedding, that is. You can’t have a wedding without a groom.
Renowned ladies’ man Mike Savoy hadn’t counted on seeing devastatingly beautiful Delaney Richards again at his best friends’ wedding in Tahoe, let alone find himself falling in love with her. Now he has to convince her the feeling is mutual–and unfailing. But the past can be a killer. And the only way Mike can ensure a future with Delaney is to push her away. But when blackmail turns to ransom, Mike is the only one who can save her. To survive, Delaney must trust the heart that once betrayed her.
Travel with me from the fawn-colored shores and sapphire blue waters of Lake Tahoe to the gray cotton-cloaked skyline and serpentine streets of San Francisco and fall in love all over again.
Here’s an excerpt from Chance Encounter,
Mike watched Delaney’s eyes sweep the repetitive-hued room, then the terrace. The double doors were open, allowing the breeze to raise the curtains puddling on the Gainsboro-colored carpeting. Beyond the silhouette of the city was framed in black filigree.
“You wanted a balcony,” he reminded her smugly.
She turned to him in openmouthed wonder, then walked through the living room and outside. Her fingertips brushed the back of the cushions on the wrought iron chairs as she made her way to the railing. “I don’t know what to say.”
He followed her. “Say you’ll stay here with me tonight.”
She studied him in bewilderment, as if the question was absurd. “Of course I’ll stay here with you. I’ll go anywhere with you.”
Because she loved and trusted him, he inwardly amazed. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “I know how hard it is for you to trust someone again. I won’t let you down, I promise.” He hesitated, then decided the time had come. “I love you, Laney.”
He watched her eyes fill and mouth tighten as she bit back the tears. Then she choked, “I love you, too. I love you so much. And I’m so scared.”
Mike let out an overdue breath. “So am I. I’ve never loved anyone before.”
“Neither have I.”
He jolted back a little, nonplussed.
She shook her head from side to side purposefully. “That wasn’t real love. I know that now. That part of me didn’t exist before you.” She fell into him and the tears sprung from her eyes, dotting the collar of his white shirt.
Looking upward, he gave silent thanks. Then he said, “And as if that isn’t enough, my family loved you too.”
He felt her collective sigh. “They did?”
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t they?”
“For one thing, I was worried about was being compared to the other women in your life.”
“That’s impossible. There’s no one for them to compare you to. Not that they would anyway. My family isn’t like—”
“I didn’t mean that way,” Delaney demurred.
“Let me finish, please.” Suddenly agitated, he raked a hand through his hair and began to pace on the tiny terrace. “There is no one for them to compare you to because I’ve never introduced them to someone like you before. Occasionally I’ve brought a woman, a date, a friend, to family gatherings, but never the same woman twice. Sometimes we wouldn’t even stay the evening, let alone,” he glanced at his watch and confirmed his suspicions, “until midnight.”
She started to say something, but he thwarted it with his palm. “You’re right. There have been many women in my life, in my bed. Very few have met my family. None of whom I’ve given jewelry, missed when we’re apart for a few hours, thought about constantly, and rearranged my schedule for.” He returned to her. “And most importantly, loved.”
Her eyes were shining, dancing now. “You rearranged your schedule?”
Mike was beside himself. “Out of all that, the schedule was what you got?”
“No. I got the loved part at the end.”
“Laney,” he whispered with jagged breath. “Of course they loved you. I knew they would. What’s not to love?”
She laughed away the words. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”
“I can only think of one.”
Dismay replaced the goodwill in her eyes and her brow crinkled. “You can?”
“Yeah,” he declared evenly. “Loving each other isn’t enough for me.”
He watched the color drain from her face. “It’s not?”
“No.” He raised their joined hands. “I want you to belong to me. I want to belong to you too.”
“I do.” She tripped over the words. “I thought you already did.”
“I mean for good.” He stoked her cheek with the back of his fingers, knowing he’d been sure all along. “I mean forever. Can you see yourself loving me forever?”
She gasped, and with a measured nod managed, “Can you see yourself loving me forever?”
“I know I can. I know I want to. I want to make love to you tonight and every night for the rest of my life. You and only you.”
She seemed to believe him for the first time. “I want that too,” she gushed. “I could never be with another man now. I couldn’t bear for you to touch someone else.”
“I won’t,” he promised, cradling her chin in his hands. “Ever. I’m not asking you tonight. I won’t rush you. I just needed to know if—”
She quieted his lips with her forefinger. “The answer is yes. Whether you ask me tonight or ten thousand nights from now.”
Indescribably happy, Mike tasted her tears, then rested his forehead against hers. “That will have to wait until I can ask you properly. However,” his mouth found hers again and began to feed, “there is something I can ask you tonight.”
She tilted her head back as he showered her throat with kisses. “Hmm. What would that be?”
“I want to taste you. I want you to taste me too.”
That seemed to surprise, then intrigue her. She righted her head and found his gaze with wide eyes. “You can do anything you want to me.” Her tone was dark and full of challenge. “I’m yours, remember?”
He could do nothing but mumble her name, willing his moral compass to hold steady.
Her ensuing words made that nearly impossible. “You’ll be the first man to touch me that way. Now I wish you were the only man to touch me at all.”
Mike swallowed the shock and wondered if she could feel him hardening behind the zipper. “As long as I’m the last.”
She responded by silently backing up into the bedroom and reaching behind her. A second later the dress fell to the floor. “I’ve been waiting all night to show you what’s under my dress.”
He supposed the foghorns still boomed from the bridge, the seals continued to bark on the pier, the cars buzzed along on the street below. But Mike’s mind discounted all that. In his head, his hands were already running down Delaney’s tawny shoulders. They lingered at the curve of her breasts before pausing on her svelte waist and then resting on her willowy hips.
And his cock wasn’t far behind.
He shut the French doors behind him and loosened his collar. “I’ve been waiting all night to see what’s under your dress.”
“I told you,” she tantalized. “Didn’t you believe me?”
He cast aside his suit coat. “Oh, I believed you. That’s why I’ve been waiting all night.”
By mid-stride, he felt himself being yanked under her spell. By the time he reached her, his hands felt claw-like against the buttons of his shirt. Hers, on the other hand, were as agile as a cat’s. “You seemed oddly patient.” She wended her slender fingers down the shirt, holding him with a wolfish smile all the while. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“You’ll never have to wonder about that.” Tipping point reached and passed, he grabbed her wrists. “If I’d had my way, I would’ve taken you in the elevator.” He ripped the shirt off before she could finish, busting the two bottom buttons in the process. He made quick work of his pants, then lassoed her waist. Seizing her mouth, he straddled her to his middle. Her delta felt as hot and wet as her mouth tasted.
And he couldn’t wait to prove it.
My trilogy of contemporary, erotic romances began releasing in September from Red Sage Publishing. Second Chance, the trilogy opener, is a reunion/love triangle romance that keeps the shores of Lake Tahoe blazing hot long after the sultry summer sun has set. Chance Encounter, the trilogy’s second installment, heats up San Francisco’s chilly days and blustery nights with white-hot passion and pulse-pounding suspense. And in Last Chance (November 1), the conclusion of the trilogy, the snow-packed Sierras melt into lust-fueled puddles despite the single-digit temperatures of the Northern California winter. Please visit my web site atmarthaosullivan26.wix.com/marthaosullivan for excerpts, reviews and more.
Bio:
Martha O’Sullivan has loved reading romance novels for as long as she can remember. So much so that she would continue the story in her head long after the last chapter was read. Writing her own novels is the realization of a lifelong dream for this stay-at-home mom. A native Chicagoan, she lives her own happy ending in Florida with her husband and two daughters.
Links: The Chances trilogy by Martha O’Sullivan. Available at:
marthaosullivan26.wix.com/marthaosullivan
marthaosullivan.blogspot.com
http://eredsage.com/store/OSULLIVAN_MARTHA.html
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/second-chance-martha-o-x2019-sullivan/1116810263?ean=2940148803621
October 11, 2013
Guest Blogger: Kaye Spencer
Please welcome author Kaye Spencer to the blog today. Thanks Kaye for stopping by!
A Cowboy Ghost Story that Spawned a Western Romance
by romance author, Kaye Spencer
It’s October! And that means my favorite holiday is right around the corner—Halloween. Two of my other favorite things are old cowboys songs (such as Marty Robbins’ gunfighter ballads), and western romances.
A particular old cowboy song that I like is Ghostriders in the Sky, which was written by Stan Jones in 1948, and recorded by a plethora of musicians.
The roots of the ghostrider American legend probably comes from Europe, since many countries have their own older versions of the same story: the Wild Huntsman, Herne the Hunter and his pack of white hounds with blood-red ears, the Gabriel Hounds or Hellhounds, Odin astride his eight-legged stallion and followed by the Souls of the Dead, Orkney Islands’ fairies galloping about on midnight rides and driving stolen cattle ahead of them, and other variations.
Each legend is a rendition of the Wild Hunt, and they all include some sort of phantom-like leader accompanied by a horde of hounds or horses as they race across the night sky. It is a bad omen to witness the Wild Hunt, and strife and death always follow if you do. These supernatural forces travel the night skies bringing evil with them or they are searching for those who must be punished in the afterlife to atone for the wrong they did in their lives.
America’s Wild Hunt legend is about spirits of damned cowboys doomed to chase a herd of phantom cattle for all eternity. With that basic idea in mind, I crafted a western romance (novella length) called Gunslingers & Ghostriders, (written under other my pen name, A.L. Debran). The hero, gunfighter Matt Caddock, has to face the violence he wrought in his past when the Ghostriders come to claim his soul. The heroine, widow Brenna Stirling, is the key to Matt’s salvation.
Here’s a ghostly excerpt from the book.
By the time Matt reached the compound, he was mad. He was mad at himself for bringing this trouble to Brenna and he was mad at Archer for his greed. By the time he reined in between the windmill and Brenna’s house, he felt the rushing surge of deadly adrenaline he always felt just before a showdown. The only thought in his mind was killing.
He decided to play on Archer’s ego and challenge him to finally see who was the better man with a gun. Matt could take a slug and keep going. He’d done it before. When he pulled the trigger, his shots counted. Every time. One way or another, Archer and his men were not leaving the Stirling ranch alive, even if he had to die to make it happen.
Sitting light in the saddle, he pulled the toes of his boots to the edge of the stirrups, ready to leave the saddle in a hurry. He kept his hands in sight, acutely aware of the rifles that had followed them for the last half mile to the yard.
Archer waited for him in the yard, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “I knew you’d trade me the gold for your woman.”
Matt looked past Archer to Brenna, who stood beside Vernon. Their gazes locked and she barely patted her skirt as she made a gun symbol with her thumb and forefinger. She gave him a slight nod and a little grin touched the corner of his mouth. Good woman. He could count on her to take Vernon out when he blew the lid off this party.
“Parson, unload the gold. Throw it down over there.” He indicated the open area toward what was left of the bunkhouse. In his mind, he wanted the gold as far away from Brenna as possible to draw Archer into the open and leave her out of the direct line of fire. “Then get up on the porch out of the way. There’s going to be fireworks shortly.”
Archer walked to the gold and nudged the sacks with the toe of his boot. He looked at Matt. “Must be two hundred pounds here. I’ll bet it hurts you something fiercely to have me take it away from you so easy.”
Matt dismounted with the buckskin between him and Archer. He kept an eye on Walt and Herker, who had come up behind Archer and spread out on both sides.
Matt stepped away from the buckskin, deliberately removing his leather gloves slowly, one finger at a time. He tucked them into the back of his gun belt and stopped forty feet from Archer, flexing his fingers and rubbing his hands together.
“Take it and get the hell out of here.”
“I’d like to do that Matt. I surely would, but I can’t have you on my tail the rest of my life. Besides, I promised Vernon he could have your woman after we killed you and took the gold.”
Matt’s blood ran deadly cold, ready for the showdown. “Then let’s see who really is the better man with a gun.”
Archer spread his arms in front of him, fingers twitching, ready to make his border draw. Matt calmly opened his duster, and flipped the long sides back, exposing his tied down guns.
From behind him, Brenna suddenly screamed, “Matt. The clouds!” Lightning struck outside the compound and he stared over Archer’s head. Amid billowing, dark, churning clouds, the stampeding ghost herd thundered across the sky toward them, the phantom cowboys hot on their tails.
He sensed, more than saw, Archer’s hands cross and grab his guns. His own revolvers leapt into his hands as he faced Archer’s fire…
***
Happy October Hauntings!
Kaye
Fall in love…faster, harder, deeper with Kaye Spencer romances
Buy Link:
