D.E. Haggerty's Blog, page 25

February 14, 2018

Why I call myself an authorpreneur instead of writer #WriterWednesday #AmWriting #BookMarketing #AuthorPlatform

Those of you who follow my blog may be scratching your head at the title to this blog as you know I recently released my twelfth novel. And yes, I repeatedly tell everyone it’s my twelfth! But writing twelve novels is just a portion of how I spend my time. To make this clear, I recently started answering ‘authorpreneur’ to the question of ‘What do you do?’ instead of ‘writer’. Since the term ‘authorpreneur’ isn’t actually in the dictionary, you get a lot of raised eyebrows and questions when you start using the expression.


I first learned of the term when I read a blog from Derek Haines who wrote about the eleven key attributes of an authorpreneur (read the article here). After that, I kept hearing the term. I freaking love this term. Not only do I – as a language aficionado – love the idea of the word defining my job being a portmanteau (look that up here), but everything just clicked when I heard it. I may have been listening to a podcast about authorpreneurs while walking along a beach in Spain and shouted something like “Totally!” (I’m embarrassing like that.)


Why am I so excited about a word? Two reasons. One, it’s a much better description of my daily life than ‘writer’. (As a writer, I’m obviously into words and their proper usage.) The actual writing portion of my job takes up less than 50% of my time. As I’m a fiction novelist, I’m referring here to writing on my manuscript and not blogging or other marketing items such as interviewing. The remaining time is spent doing ‘entrepreneurial’ activities such as marketing, maintaining an author platform, blogging, etc., etc. So yeah, combining the term author and entrepreneur to define my job sounds like a perfect fit.


The second reason I love, love, love the term ‘authorpreneur’ is due to the reaction people have when I call myself an ‘authorpreneur’ instead of a writer. One problem I encounter again and again as a writer is the complete lack of understanding by others of what I do during a normal work day. This picture is a decent representation of the problem:


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If you look at the first five photos, they look fairly one-sided – either a glamorous writing life (and seriously, who has one of those?) or a simple writing life. The “What I actually do” picture with its piles and piles of papers is more accurate. I’d like to claim my desk looks more organized, but I’d just be lying.


Anyway, when I tell people I’m an authorpreneur, they are almost always curious. What’s that? Why do you call yourself that instead of an author? This leads to a more constructive conversation about my working life than when I say I’m a writer. In response to that, I often hear ‘Are you famous?’ And isn’t it just demoralizing when I have to admit that ‘No, I’m not famous. Not at all.’? (Please note that I sometimes don’t care to have a constructive conversation with someone. In that case, I just make up some crap about what I do for a living. What can I say? I’m an introvert. An introvert with a drinking problem, but still an introvert who prefers reading books to talking to people.)


So, folks, that’s why I call myself an authorpreneur. How about other writers out there? How do you feel about the term? Will you be using it as well?


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Published on February 14, 2018 03:52

February 13, 2018

Crime—at least, someone else’s—does pay the bills ~ Murder is a Dirty Business #cozymystery from Tricia L. Sanders #giveaway

Murder is a Dirty Business

by Tricia L. Sanders





Murder is a Dirty Business

Cozy Mystery

1st in Series

Soul Mate Publishing, LLC (November 15, 2017)

Print Length: 254 pages

ASIN: B076KVQ4WR



When Cece Cavanaugh’s husband empties their joint bank account, steals her designer luggage, and runs off with a younger woman, Cece must decide whether to ask her manipulative mother-in-law for a handout or get a job. Choosing the easier path, Cece lands a job cleaning a crime scene where a high school coach was murdered. When his wife is implicated—a young woman Cece practically raised—Cece finds herself mopping floors, balancing an empty checkbook, and ferreting out a killer.


Amid all this messy business, Cece bumps heads with a handsome detective. She tries to ignore her growing attraction to the detective, but he gives new meaning to the term “hot flash.”


After she stumbles onto a clue that could vindicate her friend, her elation turns to panic when she haphazardly confronts the killer. Through the danger and romance, Cece discovers self-reliance and inner strength.


And that crime—at least, someone else’s—does pay the bills.



Grab a copy!

Amazon





Tricia L. Sanders writes about women with class, sass, and a touch of kickass. A former instructional designer and corporate trainer, she traded in curriculum writing for novel writing, because she hates bullet points and loves to make stuff up. And fiction is more fun than training guides and lesson plans.


When she isn’t writing, Tricia is busy crossing dreams off her bucket list. With all 50 states checked, she’s concentrating on foreign interests. She’s an avid St. Louis Cardinals fan, so don’t get between her and the television when a game is on. Currently, she is working on a mystery series set in the fictional town of Wickford, Missouri. Another project in the works is a women’s fiction road trip adventure.


Her essays have appeared in Sasee, ByLine, The Cuivre River Anthology and Great American Outhouse Stories; The Whole Truth and Nothing Butt. She is a proud member of The Lit Ladies, six women writing their truths into fiction.


Author Links


Website: http://www.triciasanders.com/


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authortricialsanders/


Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36458199-murder-is-a-dirty-business


YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXRJSRSmTjg


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Published on February 13, 2018 01:35

February 11, 2018

A guest post on the inspiration behind Survivors’ Dawn by @survivorsdawn #giveaway #womensfiction

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Title: SURVIVORS’ DAWN


Author: Ashley Warren


Publisher: Chaparral Press LLC


Pages: 316


Genre: Contemporary Fiction / Women’s Fiction / New Adult Fiction


~ BLURB ~

A heroic story of three college women’s fight for justice


At first glance, Brooke Flanagan, Lauren Le, and Nikki Towers have little in common: a churchgoing virgin, a party girl, and a resident advisor. But they all have their own dreams, dreams that can be shattered in a single night.


When freshman Brooke Flanagan first arrives at the university, she’s excited to escape her sheltered life in a Southern town. Lauren Le, a scholarship student, likes to have a good time, but she never disappoints her hardworking, single mom. Nikki Towers always goes her own way. Confident, poised, and wealthy, Nikki’s biggest problem is what to do with her future.


Into these girls’ lives walks Colin Jordan. Colin is the son of a private equity titan, captain of his club basketball team, and a brilliant pre-law student. He is also a sexual predator.


Survivors’ Dawn relates a journey of heroes: the strength, courage, and determination of the victims as they fight to survive; the obstacles they face in their pursuit of justice; and finally, with its conclusion, hope for a future where students can pursue their dreams without fear of being attacked.


A contemporary novel, Survivor’s Dawn wrestles with issues of privilege, sexual assault, and the responsibility of academic institutions to protect their students.


 Grab a copy now!
Amazon
Guest Post

The Inspiration Behind Survivors’ Dawn


On a sunny day in early 2010, I sat in my parked car, late for an appointment, stunned by an NPR story about sexual predators. I had no idea criminals such as these roamed freely on university campuses.


Since then, I’ve paid close attention to the issue. It never goes away, and by all accounts, the crime is pervasive at every college. As I read story after story, I began to wonder if I could write a novel about victims whose lives were brought together by a common assailant.


Unlike murder—the inciting incident for thousands of published mysteries every year—only a handful of novels have been written about sexual assault. Why? When I asked people that question, they always gave me the same answer: No one wants to read a story about rape.


But just as murder mysteries are not about murder, Survivors’ Dawn is not about rape. Murder mysteries relate the journey of the protagonist as she seeks to solve the crime. Survivors’ Dawn is about the journeys of the victims after the crime: their struggle to survive, the obstacles they face in their pursuit of justice, and their hope for a future when students can pursue their dreams without fear of being attacked.


Brooke Flanagan, Lauren Le, and Nikki Towers are fictitious characters, but their stories are real. Victims face similar fates every day. And predators like Colin Jordan exist too.


To write a credible story about the journey of victims, I had to do a lot of research. When I read about and listened to the stories of college survivors, they broke my heart. But then I realized that the victims are in fact heroes. They suffer tremendous pain and stress, they wrestle with guilt and shame, and if they accuse their assailants, they often encounter indifference and/or victim blaming. They are heroes, and a hero’s story deserves to be told.


I self published Survivors’ Dawn. Initially, I pursued the traditional route to getting published by sending query letters to thirty literary agents. Half responded with form rejection emails, and the rest never answered my query. I don’t know if any of them read the manuscript excerpt. Apparently, the agents didn’t believe they could sell the book to a publisher, and how could I fault their skepticism? After all, no one wants to read a story about rape. But by then, the story had taken ahold of me, and I had to keep pressing forward.


College students have been sexually assaulted for as long as colleges have existed. The problem won’t go away by itself, and survivors can’t end the crisis on their own. They need our help. Remember, good women and men outnumber predators many times over. Good people everywhere must stand up and say no more.


Survivors’ Dawn will introduce you to the subject. As you walk with the survivors, you will experience fear, despair, anger, disgust, purpose, redemption, and finally, hope. You might even decide to get involved. A good start would be to take the It’s On Us pledge and make a donation.


Thank you for having me. Book bloggers make the world a better place!


~ Excerpt ~

LAUREN LE BEFORE:


At eleven thirty Lauren Le stood with her new friends at the Homestead, a lively bar in the Triangle. Everyone talked at once, shouting to be heard above the music. The Homestead had space for a couple hundred people, with a large square bar in the middle, dozens of stand-up tables, and two dance floors. The constant beat and the bass notes coursed through Lauren’s veins.


She took a slug of the vodka soda.


Pace yourself, Lauren.


It had taken her a month to get comfortable on campus. She had grown up in Irving, Texas, outside of Dallas, and had never traveled this far to the east before starting school here. Some of her high school friends had gone to college, but none as far away as Lauren. They fell short when it came to grades and test scores and ambition.


Lauren was the result of a short-lived and reckless affair between a Vietnamese immigrant, Kim Le, who worked in a nail salon, and a tall Texan who lit out for the oil rigs as soon as Kim missed her first period. Kim had never heard from him again, and she seldom mentioned him to Lauren. As Lauren grew older she became curious and would sometimes ask about her father.


“I was stupid,” Kim had said. “I tried for a big dream with a big white man. But he was no good.”


When Lauren pressed for more information, Kim would grow adamant.


“You forget about him. You need to study.”


If Kim wasn’t working at the salon, a short distance from their apartment, she was doing piecework for a local tailor. Kim never paid Lauren an allowance, but she let her work a part-time job so long as she kept her grades near perfect.


With a tired mother and an absent father, Lauren was forced to learn how to have a good time on her own, and at that she had excelled. As a senior with a full figure, a fun nature—her hobbies were cosplay, online gaming, and organizing flash mobs—and a curious mind about partying and sex, Lauren had always attracted guys.


She had drunk one cocktail at the Italian restaurant and started with a shot of tequila at the Homestead. When they had first arrived, the girls danced as a group for nearly an hour, not allowing the dearth of boys to deter them from getting the party started.


Lauren took a break, her head buzzing slightly from the alcohol and the dancing. Cool air from the duct above her whisked away the perspiration.


God, college is fun.


The bar began to fill, and boys drifted by their group in ones and twos. A sophomore from New Jersey bought her another drink. He was her height, with red hair, and talked fast in a northern accent. He was almost cute, except for a big pimple and his lack of coordination. They tried dancing but couldn’t make it work. Afterward, he told her his dream of becoming a veterinarian. Snore.


Lauren spied one of the resident advisors from Roxbury Hall, Nikki Towers, watching her from the other side of the bar. The girls had approached Nikki when they first entered the Homestead, nervous because they had used fake IDs to get past the bouncer. They needn’t have worried. Nikki’s nickname was Cool RA. She had a reputation for doing her own thing in her own way and never traveling in a crowd. Cool RA had wished them a good time but advised them not to get wasted. (“I’m your RA, not your babysitter.”) Nevertheless, when Lauren caught Nikki’s eye, she could tell Cool RA was not impressed with the New Jersey kid.


“So…,” he said, “do you want to come over to the frat house and listen to music? I’ve got some killer weed.”


“Oh…well…like…”


His eyes were glazed and his shoulders swayed, like a five-year-old on a bicycle. Lauren wasn’t a fan of just-met sex. If he had been gorgeous, like Liam Hemsworth, then maybe. Wait, maybe? Not maybe. Definitely! But she would not have sex with New Jersey, at least not tonight. “You know, I’m gonna hang with my friends a while longer. Thanks, though.”


“Not a problem. Catch you later.”


He leaned toward her as if expecting something. She hesitated, unsure, and then offered to shake hands. He only got about ten steps before he stopped to chat up another girl.


“What did he want?” said Caitlyn, her roommate. Caitlyn’s face turned sour as Lauren told her of the invite to smoke pot. “Eewww! That guy?”


They laughed. Lauren was light as a feather. She could party all night.


LAUREN LE AFTER:


At two thirty in the morning an Uber dropped Lauren outside Roxbury Hall. Lighting a cigarette, she gazed up at the three-story brick building and remembered move-in day, how excited she’d been; her mother and aunt and uncle had come to help. What had she wanted then? Freedom? Relief from her mother’s watchful eyes? Yes, that was part of it, but she’d hoped for a lot more.


Lauren had smoked pot with her latest score, a hipster from California, and now her head felt heavy and thick. After the joint he had wanted to have sex again. She had no urge for an encore but couldn’t think of a polite way to turn him down. What did that make in total? Three? Four? Five counting the blackout sex with Colin Jordan. Five boys (men?) in four weeks. What the hell? So weird. The hookups were like gorging on pizza, but the gnawing emptiness she’d felt after Colin hadn’t abated at all.


What did she have on the calendar for the next day? A couple lectures: Psychology and English Lit. She might make it to class, or she might not. They were easy courses anyway. Crushing the butt beneath her heel, she tossed it in a trashcan and walked through the door.


Inside Lauren’s dorm room, Caitlyn sat at her desk reading a textbook with her earbuds in.


“Hey,” said Lauren. “What are you doing up so late?”


Caitlyn turned in her chair. “Studying for the psych test.” She sniffed the air.


What? Caitlyn never studied this late. Lauren walked to Caitlyn’s side and saw, sure enough, that the fat psych book was open a third of the way through.


“What for? The test is next week.”


“It’s tomorrow.”


“No, it’s next week.”


“It’s tomorrow. I texted you to study together, but you never answered. Where’ve you been?”


Lauren ignored Caitlyn and walked to her desk to check her laptop. The test had to be next week; she’d skipped a few classes and hadn’t read the book. “What?”


“I asked where you’ve been.”


“The Homestead. I went for a drink.”


Fuck! Caitlyn was right. The test was that morning—less than seven hours away. Lauren shook her head. The buzz from the pot had turned into a headache. How did she mess this up? Caitlyn was saying something else.


“What?”


“You smell like cigarettes and pot. Where did you smoke pot?”


“Uh…I stopped at this guy’s place to party.”


“On a Tuesday? Shit, Lauren. What the fuck?”


“Hey, you’re not my mom. Chill the fuck out.”


After a shower and some caffeine, Lauren reviewed her notes and opened the textbook. Caitlyn had gone to sleep, and Lauren’s desk lamp made shadows on the floor. The quiet of the room calmed her, and for the first twenty minutes she made progress, covered the better part of a chapter, but then her eyelids grew heavy, and the words blurred on the page. A short nap would clear her head and allow her to absorb the material with her usual speed. She set a twenty-minute timer on her phone, lay down, and closed her eyes. The psychology concepts quickly drifted away.


* * *


Lauren sat in the classroom, breathing fast; her eyes flitted back and forth over the questions. Half of the class had already finished and left. She flipped back several pages. Damn. There had to be another question she could answer, but she couldn’t find it, and after another minute the professor called time.


She had woken at eight thirty to Caitlyn roughly shaking her shoulder.


“Wake up! It’s time to go. I woke you twice already.”


With no time to even brush her teeth, Lauren had pulled on boots and a clean top and walked with Caitlyn to class. She had never felt so unprepared.


And now she’d failed the test. Fucking flat-ass failed it.


Outside in the bright sunlight, Caitlyn stopped to face her. Her eyes peered into Lauren’s, her ever-present smile nowhere to be seen.


“How’d you do?” said Caitlyn.


“Awful. I really fucked up.”


“I’m sorry. You know…I tried to text you.”


Lauren’s legs were numb. Adrenaline had fired her up during the exam, but now all the energy had burned off.


Caitlyn headed off to another class, and Lauren trudged to the student union. She’d spent the last of her cash on cigarettes. Once inside, she made it to the ATM and took out ten dollars.


She stared at the red and white logo on the touchscreen.


Bank of America.


Her mother’s apartment was two blocks from a branch. Kim would deposit cash tips at the drive-thru while Lauren sat in the passenger seat. Some days at the salon were hard. The owner would berate the workers for not learning English. But the drive-thru had always lifted Kim’s spirits. On the way out she’d pause to look at the B of A sign and say the same thing every time: “Your future is in this bank.”


Lauren took two steps and her knees softened. She turned her back against the wall and sank until her butt touched the floor.


Don’t cry. Don’t.


But her throat tightened and warm tears forced their way through closed eyelids. She sat with elbows on knees, her hands over her face. Silent sobs shook her shoulders. Students walked past in the hallway, busy, with classes to attend, futures to build. Two girls giggled, happy, oblivious.


Fuck. What was happening? She was freefalling into black air.


Someone said something. A man’s running shoes appeared through spread fingers.


“Are you all right?” he said.


Lauren pressed her palms against her eyes to rub away the tears. She wouldn’t compound her failure by making people pity her, too. Pushing off the tiled floor she stood, pulled her backpack over her shoulder, and faced him.


“You looked kind of sad,” he said.


Who was this guy? What was his game? Not bad looking, with strong shoulders and a relaxed vibe, faded jeans and a simple black T-shirt.


“Do you want to fuck me?” she said.


“What?” His mouth opened. “No!” He stepped back and thrust his hands in front as if to ward her off. “What’s the matter with you?”


Several students stopped, sensing an incident of interest.


Lauren marched away from the onlookers. She ran upstairs to the second floor and exited onto the grounds on top of the hill. She kept walking, past the admissions building and the Old Chapel and onto Philosopher’s Row. She took one of the paths into the side gardens and dropped on a bench.


She rocked slowly, hugging her arms. God, how pathetic was that? What would she do next? She wanted to skip class and walk to the Homestead for an early afternoon cocktail.


As if clinging to the edge of a dark abyss, Lauren tried to hold on, her stomach roiling, her arms shaking. She had propositioned the boy, because she had wanted to fuck him. She wanted to fuck a guy…any guy…every guy.


But why? She’d never done that before. Never on the first night…that was her rule, one she’d broken how many times now? Five.


She grasped the edge of the stone bench, squeezing, ignoring the grating surface against her fingers. A bird sang from a nearby tree. The bird flew from one tree to the next, a flash of red, a cardinal. It settled for a few moments on the branch of a maple tree, whose leaves had begun to turn, sang, and flew off.


The cardinal reminded her of Todd, the gay guy she’d met three weeks earlier, with his bright plumage and sweet song. What had Todd told her as they waited for the Uber driver? Something about the dean of student affairs. Maybe she should check it out.


About the Author

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The unending accounts of sexual assault on college campuses compelled me to write Survivors’ Dawn.


My goal in writing the novel was NOT to focus on the act itself, but instead, to write of the victim’s journey, to tell a story about the strength, courage, and determination of survivors, to describe the difficulties they face in their pursuit of justice, and finally, to offer hope for a future where students can pursue their dreams without fear of being attacked.


As Lady Gaga’s “Til It Happens to You” implies, non-victims can never truly know how it feels to be assaulted, but we can try to empathize, and we can try to help. Awareness is key to reducing the incidence of sexual assault on campus. Please do your part by taking the It’s On Us pledge and contributing to organizations that are fighting on the front lines.


Thank you to readers who give me encouragement. It means so much to me. Word of mouth is an incredible thing, so thank you also for telling your friends about Survivors’ Dawn.


WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK
Ashley Warren is giving away a FREE Kindle copy of SURVIVORS’ DREAM!

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Terms & Conditions:



By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter.
This giveaway ends midnight March 30.
Winner will be contacted via email on March 31.
Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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Published on February 11, 2018 23:45

February 9, 2018

Read an excerpt of the sexy new romance, Wanting More, from Elle Keating #romance

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Title: Wanting More


Series: Book 3 of the Dangerous Love Series (But can be read as a standalone)


Author: Elle Keating


Genre: Contemporary Romance


Published: 2/20/2018


~ Blurb ~

Carina McGinnis knows Josh Graham is trouble.


Being attracted to a man who most likely has a turnstile at the entrance of his bedroom can only end in heartache, something Carina never wants to experience again. If she doesn’t want a repeat of what happened last summer, it’s best Carina keep what’s left of her heart safely out of Josh’s reach.


Josh Graham doesn’t do sweet.


He goes for one kind of woman. The kind who never ask for more than he can give. Sex without strings, feelings and emotional baggage is safe. But from the moment Josh meets Carina his number one rule is quickly forgotten, forcing him to face his past and take a leap of faith for that one woman who will always want more.


 


~ Grab a copy! ~

Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Kobo


~ Excerpt ~


Josh


I’ll just have to have enough control for the both of us.


That’s what he had promised her. That he would be a gentleman. Which meant that he couldn’t touch her, think of her anymore, at least not in the way he craved. He would friend zone her. He had girlfriends. Mia and Erin were proof that he could have a relationship with a woman and not want to get in her pants. He could do this.


Then why the hell was he so nervous?


He gripped the white bag and rounded the corner. The playground came into view and he increased his pace. He could hear screams coming from his right. And then the distinct sound of a rubber kickball being bounced against cement. Josh was on his way to the front entrance when he saw her through the black iron fence. Standing in the doorway to what looked like a classroom behind her, Carina was in full teacher mode. A little girl was looking up at her and saying something. He couldn’t make out her words but whatever she had said made Carina smile and then she positioned the girl so her back was to her. Seconds later Carina was gathering the girl’s blonde curly hair in one hand and securing it with a hair tie. After a quick tug to her pony tail and a smile from her teacher, the girl skipped away in the direction of the swings.


Josh could have stared at Carina all day, watching her do her job, a job she seemed to enjoy, a job that made her smile. He loved her smile. Especially when she didn’t think anyone was watching. Her silent confidence, the way she appeared to be so relaxed in her own skin, captivated him. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and scanned the playground. And that’s when she spotted him. Caught him, was more like it, staring at her through the iron bars. His throat went dry and his brain went to mush. The bag in his hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, as if reminding him why he had come.


She walked across the playground and with each step his heart beat faster. He urged himself to calm the fuck down. Because if he couldn’t do this, how the hell was he going to get through this weekend? Alone with her in a car for two and a half hours. Alone with her in a hotel room where there may only be one bed. The visual made his breathing hitch. He would take the floor. Scratch that. He would take an ice-cold shower and then sleep on the floor. She could have the bed. That king-sized bed all to herself, her wrapped in white sheets, warm and…


“Josh, what are you doing here?” she asked.


He swallowed hard and barely managed to raise the white, now grease stained bag until it was level with his face. “Have you eaten lunch?” he asked. It was a miracle he could get the words out.


“Um…not yet. Was just about to go inside and eat at my desk. I brown bagged it today.”


“I think I can do better than that. Do you like roast pork sandwiches?”


She eyed the white bag. Luckily, his fingers had stopped trembling. “Is that a Di’Nic’s bag?”


He nodded. “There’s a roast pork sandwich in here with your name written all over it if you agree to eat lunch with me.”


Her brow raised and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Is it fully loaded with peppers, cheese and horseradish?”


She liked messy sandwiches. She was too good to be true.


“Absolutely.”


Her lips curled to form a mischievous smile. “Okay. But you better have lots of napkins.”


Josh pulled a fistful of napkins out of the bag and displayed them proudly. “I think we’re covered.”


“Alright. Meet you in the park across the street?”


He smiled at her, causing her cheeks to pinken. She then turned and walked back into the school building.


Alright, the hard part was over. She had agreed to lunch. He had gotten through it. All that was left to do was convince himself and to prove to Carina that they could be friends. And that because they were just friends, she didn’t have to worry about this weekend. As her friend, he would escort her to the baptism. As her friend, he would parade around as her boyfriend to help ward off Eric fucking Ross. As her friend, he would keep her company and turn back into the old Josh, the one who was easygoing and took pride in being a smartass.


Friends.


Yep, he could do this.


No problem.


***


Carina


She loved a messy sandwich as much as the next girl, but her appetite was shit right now. Carina forced down another bite and tried not to stare at Josh as he withdrew two bottles of root beer from the bag. As the muscles in his arms flexed beneath his thin cotton t-shirt. Or how nice his ass looked in his jeans. Or how his hair flopped…


“So I thought it was best that I just put it out there.” He set the bag down next to him on the park bench.


She stopped imagining how soft his hair would feel between her fingers. “Put what out there?”


“Well, I think we’re stuck with each other,” he said, opening one of the root beers and handing it over to her. His fingers brushed hers as she took the bottle. Her face was burning up.


“I didn’t really give you a choice. I kind of roped you into this baptism thing. Don’t you think?”


“I’m not talking about the baptism, Carina.” He twisted off the cap to his root beer and took a swig.


“Then what do you mean?”


“I mean…Mia is your best friend. Mia is one of my closest friends. Which means I think it’s inevitable. We’re going to have to become friends.” The root beer almost came up. Friends? This guy had kissed her, sucked on her nipples, and had his head between her thighs. She knew that she wasn’t his type, that he didn’t want anything remotely resembling a relationship with her, but how the hell was she going to be friends with him now? He flashed her a smile that made her want to squirm in her seat, but by the grace of God she remained still.


“Um…do you think that’s even possible? We…uh…”


“I think I’m a pretty good friend. Mia and Erin would vouch for me. Just ask them.” His mind was made up. Friendship was all he had to offer. And Carina didn’t need to ask Mia if Josh could fulfill that role. He had shown her that he really was a nice guy. A devoted grandson. Erin’s man of honor. A guy who wouldn’t think twice about beating the piss out of someone who got a little handsy at a club.


A guy who could be both brooding and sweet.


And he was now her friend.


Because that was all he was capable of.


“Well, it’ll be a first for me.” Carina took a bite of her sandwich and then a sip of her root beer.


He wiped his sinful mouth with a napkin and smirked. “What will be?”


“Being just friends with a guy…one who has seen my hoo-ha.”


He chuckled. “Hoo-ha? That’s what you call it?” he asked, glancing between her legs. His heated stare made her legs cross and her head go places it shouldn’t. And throughout it all, his smirk remained.


“Uh…yeah. What would you call it?” She suddenly felt parched and drained her soda.


His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “Do you want me to be honest?”


She set her empty bottle on the ground beneath the park bench. “Friends are supposed to be honest with each other. Right?”


His smile evaporated and he bit his lip. Which was one of the sexiest things she had ever witnessed in her life. She wanted to bite his lip. His tongue. Every fucking inch of him. “I’ll tell you what I would call that part of you…and then we will become friends. Agreed?” he asked, his voice now gruff, no longer playful. His smirk had also failed to return.


Her heart hammered in her chest, as she was remembering how he had taken her in that office. His lips sucking her clit. The sounds she made. The groans he had allowed to escape as she rode his face. “Yes. Friends,” she said.


He stared at her for a few seconds. The silence wasn’t awkward, but intoxicating. She felt dizzy and overheated. And so damn wet. “That area between your thighs, where I licked you, inhaled you, tasted you…that was heaven, Carina.”


Jesus Christ!


Now it was her turn to bite the shit out of her lip.


His eyes darkened as they traveled to her mouth and then he said, “Carina, finish your sandwich. Your lunch hour is almost over.” He retrieved the remainder of his sandwich and took a bite. Numb, she did the same. And thought about the weekend she was about to spend with him.


As friends.


~ Author bio ~

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Elle Keating is the author of romance novels with sexy heroes and fierce females. Her first book, ​Thrill of the Chase (Dangerous Love, #1), was published by Forever Romance’s digital imprint, Forever Yours, in 2015. ​Cut to the Chase (Dangerous Love, #2) soon followed. Most recently, Elle self-published a standalone novel, ​Keeping His Commandments.


An avid reader of gritty, dark romances, her favorite authors include Pepper Winters, Penelope Ward, and Anna Zaires. When she isn’t torturing her heroes and heroines (don’t worry, there’s always a happily ever after), Elle is a public school administrator and enjoys spending time with her husband and 3 children in New Jersey.


Stalk the author!

Website ~ Facebook ~ Instagram ~ Email


 


 

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Published on February 09, 2018 01:21

February 7, 2018

How to do a Goodreads Giveaway #WriterWednesday #Goodreads #Giveaway

There has been a lot of press lately about giveaways from Goodreads as they are no longer free. In this article, I’m not going to discuss whether or not you should do a giveaway from Goodreads. I’m only going to describe the process itself. Once I’ve had time to analyze the results from my Giveaway, I’ll write an article on whether it was worth it. So, stay tuned for that. In the meantime, how to do a giveaway.


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To start with, you have two options: Kindle book giveaway or print book giveaway. For the print book option, you’re responsible for sending copies to winners. As I’m in Europe but my customer base is largely in the US, this wasn’t an option for me due to the costs of sending the copies to winners. And notice the other option? It isn’t an ebook giveaway, it’s a Kindle book giveaway. If you aren’t published through Kindle Direct Publishing, you can’t do an ebook giveaway. (There are other options for publishers, but as I’m self-published, I didn’t research those.)


Now comes the contentious part – the price. I set my giveaway up at the start of the year when Goodreads was still running sales. I paid $59 for the standard package. Unfortunately, the standard package is now $119, and the premium package is $599 (can you say yikes?). According to Goodreads, the only difference between the standard and premium package is that the premium packages includes “Premium listing on the Giveaways section of Goodreads”.


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What do both packages include?



Giveaway featured in friends’ news feeds when someone enters;
Email sent to notify the author’s followers and readers who have marked the book as Want to Read;
Goodreads reminds winners to review the book; and
Entrants required to add the book to their Want to Read list.

I chose the standard package as I ran a giveaway promotion before Christmas. As part of the giveaway, readers had to mark that they wanted to read Searching for Gertrude. Everyone who had marked the novel Want To Read was notified of the giveaway by Goodreads. I assumed the standard package would, therefore, be sufficient to create a buzz for my novel.


After choosing a package, you need to decide on the length of your giveaway, chose the number of books you want to giveaway, and write the copy for the giveaway. (Note: Giveaways are still restricted to the US.) You can giveaway 10, 20, 50, or 100 ebooks, but the total approximate retail value of all prizes in your giveaway may not exceed $500. I decided to give 50 ebooks away. As Goodreads reminds winners to review the book, I’m hoping to receive more than a few reviews. The ebooks are instantly delivered to winners’ Kindles by Goodreads, so there’s no hassle for readers trying to figure out how to load the ebook onto their device.


You don’t have much space for describing your novel with the giveaway. I came up with the following:


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All that’s left to do is to pay for the giveaway. Once you pay via your Amazon account, your giveaway is all set. Curious how my giveaway fared? Stay tuned …


 

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Published on February 07, 2018 01:52

To protect her, he’ll risk it all—including his life… Final Siege from @ItsScarlettCole #romanticsuspense #giveaway #review

  Review & Excerpt Tour for FINAL SIEGE by Scarlett Cole!


Scarlett Cole is back with FINAL SIEGE, book two in the Love Over Duty series. When an urgent phone call brings Mac’s troubled past—and the woman he once loved—into the present, it’s a chance to redeem himself that he can’t refuse. To protect her, he’ll risk it all. Don’t miss out on this second chance romantic suspense featuring yet another sexy alpha hero!


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 Title: FINAL SIEGE


Author: Scarlett Cole


Release Date: January 30, 2017


Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, SWERVE


Series: Love Over Duty #2


Genres: Romantic Suspense


Page Count: 300 pages


Format: Paperback and Digital


 Synopsis:

In the Line of Fire… Former SEAL Malachai “Mac” MacCarrick is all about the future he’s created with his Navy brothers in Eagle Securities, taking assignments in the most dangerous places, and doing things no one but ex-military would attempt. But when an urgent phone call brings his troubled past—and the woman he once loved—into the present, it’s a chance to redeem himself that he can’t refuse.


Straight to the heart. . . An investigative journalist researching an explosive story, Delaney Shapiro tells herself she got over Mac—and his role in her brother’s death—a long time ago. But the first moment she sees him at her bedside in an overseas hospital, she knows it’s not true. Every moment together rekindles the desire that once burned between them, and now that she’s a target for an emerging Russian arms dealer, Mac won’t let her out of his sight. To protect her, he’ll risk it all—including his life…


Goodreads http://bit.ly/2zZHUIi


Buy Now! Amazon | Amazon UK | Chapters | B&N | iBooks


FINAL SIEGE Excerpt

Copyright © 2018 Scarlett Cole


Half asleep, unwilling to fully waken and face the day, Delaney snuggled deep into the covers and allowed the dreams that danced on the edge of her consciousness to enter. In it, she was naked, in a large white bed, with a man behind her. A hand spanned her stomach, pulling her back against a firm, warm chest. Spooning. Her favorite thing.


Lazily, the hand moved upward until it cupped her breast, and Delaney secretly urged it to squeeze gently, but it didn’t. Whoever the hand belonged to was definitely aroused. She could feel the heavy erection pressing against her back. Teasingly, she wiggled her butt against him in the hope he’d get the message, but nothing. No response.


Sun shone in through large open windows with white billowing curtains as she reveled in feelings of being turned on.


She turned in the man’s arms, grateful when he pulled her closer to him. His chest was wide, with a light smattering of hair, and she pressed her forehead to it as she slid her hand between them to the waistband of his shorts.


A hand gripped her wrist. “Don’t,” a voice said gruffly. Hard to get? That was a new one. She moved closely and pressed a series of soft kisses to his chest. But she could be that girl. The one who was confident enough to initiate. She licked his nipple and heard him gasp.


“Delaney, please. Fuck. Wake up!”


Suddenly the bed shook. Covers were dragged off her body, and her skin was cold. Then the realization hit her.


Shit. Shit. Shit.


It wasn’t a dream.


Delaney forced one eye open and confirmed her worst nightmare. Mac stood naked, apart from a pair of basketball shorts and a huge erection. And if the tenting was to be believed, his chest and bicep dimensions weren’t the only muscles that had grown. His hair was ruffled, standing up every which way as it always used to, and his eyes told her that she’d woken him up. By attempting to grab his dick.


Dear God. She was going to die.






 My Review

I’m in love. Mac is my new book boyfriend, and I’m not giving him back! You gotta love a man who knows what he wants and does everything in his power to get it. *Swoons* But there’s tons of history there and somehow Mac and Delaney have to wade through it all and hopefully come out on the other side unscathed. Cole hinted at this story in the first novel of the Love Over Duty series. Based on the few hints of background we got in that novel, I was excited to read Final Siege, and I wasn’t disappointed! I didn’t love Delaney, but I liked her well enough. She seemed at times childish to me, but, then again, I’m an old lady compared to her. *Sighs*


Although I loved the story and recommend it to anyone who enjoys romantic suspense, I’m giving an overall rating of four stars. The abrupt changes of scene mid-chapter were jarring. I also thought the big secret wasn’t the big deal it was built up to be. I could overlook those aspects, but I’m a stickler for detail and a few of the military aspects were unrealistic.


Giveaway 

Enter to win an UNDER FIRE & FINAL SIEGE Paperback


+ $20 Amazon Gift Card!


  http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29474/?


About Scarlett Cole

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The tattoo across my right hip says it all really. A Life Less Ordinary. Inked by the amazingly talented Luke Wessman at the Wooster Street Social Club (a.k.a. New York Ink). Why is it important? Well, it sums up my view on life. That we should all aspire to live a life that is less boring, less predictable. Be bold, and do something amazing. I’ve made some crazy choices. I’ve been a car maker, a consultant, and even a senior executive at a large retailer running strategy. Born in England, spent time in the U.S. and Japan, before ending up in Canada were I met my own, personal hero – all six and a half feet of him. Both of us are scorpios! Yeah, I know! Should have checked the astrological signs earlier, but somehow it works for us. We have two amazing kids, who I either could never part with or could easily be convinced to sell on e-bay.


I’ve wanted to be a writer for a really long time. Check through my office cupboards or my computer and you’ll find half written stories and character descriptions everywhere. Now I’m getting the chance to follow that dream.


Connect with Scarlett: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter


 

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Published on February 07, 2018 00:10

February 6, 2018

Can Levi convince Taya their relationship is worth the fight? Breaking Down My Walls #romance from @AnneMarieCitro #giveaway

 













Contemporary Romance


Date Published: November 30, 2017


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After the torment of her childhood, Taya believes in love for everyone … except herself. Some things can’t be untaught.



Beautiful and tough, yet the most private woman anyone has ever met, Taya knows everyone has a past, yet she doesn’t share hers. Her past must remain behind her for her sanity and so the only man she has ever loved will move on with someone who hasn’t been destroyed by those who were supposed to protect her.



Then a threat has her past storming back in and taking over.



After looking into the big, baby blue eyes of the deranged little orphan who was dragged, kicking and screaming, into his home, Levi is determined to be the boy who will teach Taya that not every offered hand will betray her.



Playful and gorgeous, Levi’s first passion is the girl who consumes his heart. His second is serving his country, following in his father’s footsteps. When Levi is deployed overseas, he encourages Taya to spread her wings and pursue her dreams, hoping she will come back to her roots and the man who is waiting for her.



Levi is mistaken.



Taya can’t change who she is and has built a life for herself far away from the only man she will ever love.



Can Levi convince Taya their relationship is worth the fight? Can he force her to overcome her fears and let him in completely? Can Levi prove his love is the freedom she has been searching for?



Levi allowed Taya to control their relationship in the past, but now things have changed. He is taking control back, with or without her consent.


~ Excerpt ~


Taya stood there, still not believing she was going to do all the blue jobs while he did the pink ones. She waited for him to come out and say he was joking, but then she heard the rustling of the shopping bags and the refrigerator door opening. Pursing her lips, she shook her head, perplexed. Was he really letting her choose? Cool!


Taya built the fire and made sure it would continue to burn before she closed the oven door and started to chop wood. For the last week, they had been walking a lot while sightseeing and swimming for hours, yet she hadn’t lifted any weights, which was why she had wanted this job— good for her muscles.


She spent an hour cutting and storing wood under the oven that had heated up beautifully.


Levi came out with the meat and veggies he intended to grill. Inside, he had made a big salad, adding cheeses, nuts, and fruits Taya liked, hoping she would see how in-tune he was with her.


“Go on in and wash up for dinner. It’s going to be ready in fifteen minutes.”


Taya walked over with her arms filled with wood that she dumped on the ground. Bending down, she then shoved the last of it in the storage area before standing, wiping the sweat from her brow. “It feels like it’s a thousand degrees out here.”


He looked at the overheated woman. “Looks like I definitely got the better job. Go and have a quick shower while I grill.”


Appreciating his thoughtfulness, Taya went into the small bathroom and stripped as she turned on the water. The pressure was almost non-existent. She stepped in while shutting the door. The water was still just barely dripping out. It was cold, but she could endure it as she lathered up, hoping it was finally warm by the time she rinsed.


Bending down, scrubbing her foot, she then went to lift her head when suddenly the pressure kicked in and the water blasted out.


“AHHH! BRRR!” Taya howled out, jiggling the shower door, jumping from foot to foot. The door was jammed and the water was ice-cold.


Levi came smashing his way into the bathroom with his gun in hand, screaming her name. Then he lowered the gun when he saw no physical threat.


“Taya! What the hell?” Dumbfounded by the magnificence of the body in front of him, he went rock-hard in three-point-one seconds. There was no hiding his Johnson in this state.


Shivering, her teeth chattering, she threw her hands up to hide her naked body, still jumping from foot to foot, trying to avoid the freezing water. “I can’t open th-the d-door. The w-water is fr-freezing. Stop st-staring and open the fr-freaking door!”


Levi bellowed in laughter.
Furious, jiggling the door, she screamed at him again to open it.
Laughing hysterically, he answered, “Piglet, turn the water off.”
Humiliated beyond belief, she turned, taking her hands off her breasts to turn off the faucet.


Then she slumped her head against the shower wall in relief, intensely mortified by her dumbness. “Get out! Let me wallow in my stupidity. Gah! I’m such a loser. How could I not think to turn off the water?”


Trying desperately to contain his mirth, he jiggled the jammed door until it opened and a wave of cold air whooshed out. “Damn, that water must have been freezing.” Another fit of laughter bubbled out as he looked at the goosebumps covering her well-toned body. It made him thicken even more. “I better see if there’s a switch for the water heater. Shit! I left the food on the grill.” Levi sprinted out of the tiny bathroom, running to save dinner.







~ About the Author ~






Anne Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario, Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart. She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her lifelong dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier then riding on the back of her husband’s Harley and throwing her arms out and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is excited and can’t wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.




Contact Links



Website 


Facebook


Twitter 


Pinterest  


Goodreads 





Purchase Links



Amazon


Smashwords


Barns & Noble 





a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

 

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Published on February 06, 2018 01:49

January 26, 2018

Three items that will change the way you travel #Travel #ExpatLife

[image error]In my bio, I often write that I have a wicked case of wanderlust that has yet to be cured. I’m not just making stuff up. I really do love to travel. I’m not a beach person. I don’t want to use my vacation days sitting on the sand – even if the sand, sea, and horizon are beautiful. I want to see things! Whether it’s the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal or Mayan ruins of Palanque, I want to see IT ALL.


Travel to far-off lands used to be reserved for the wealthy. It was arduous, expensive, and time-consuming. Those days are long gone. Heck! Those days were gone before I arrived on this planet. But I will admit that travel has gotten a heck of a lot easier than the first day I flew on a plane to Europe many, many moons ago. I remember bulky suitcases without wheels, long lines for check-in, and infrequent flights. There was no booking.com or expedia to find hotels with recommendations from other travelers. Hotels and restaurants were hit and miss.


Traveling today is almost without hassle. You can check-in online. Suitcases have four wheels so you can easily maneuver them throughout the airport. There are tons of websites to find recommendations so you never have to spend another night in a hotel that has cracks in the wall, no hot water, and no locks on the door. I’d like to share with you three things that changed the way I travel for the better.


[image error]Kindle (and kindle app). After the smart phone, this is the item that has most changed my life. Packing for a trip used to be an excruciating exercise between deciding which books I could take with and how many I would allow myself to schlep around whatever country (or countries) I was visiting. I have a friend whose only reason for reading War and Peace was that it was the thickest book she owned and she was heading off to three works traveling around Turkey. Now, there’s no need to decide which book I can take with me. I can take THEM ALL. I admit I do often take one physical book with me – a history of the region to which I’m travelling.


[image error]Powerbank. This is a recent addition to my packing list. In the old days, I don’t think I took anything electrical with me while traveling. Seriously, nothing. I don’t care about drying or curling my hair, so what electrical items did we have in the good ‘ole days to carry with us? Things have changed. I carry my power bank with me everywhere. Well, I do now. I had an interview at a radio station in an industrial area of town late at night. When I went to leave, my phone was nearly dead. Hard to order an uber without a working phone! As I waited for the uber to arrive, I watched the percentage of my phone battery tick away until it was at one percent. At that point, I saw the uber driver literally pass me by! I am never experiencing that again. The powerbank is my friend.


Dirty clothes. I admit, this isn’t an item but a state of mind. My family recently visited me in the Netherlands, and we went off for a five-day excursion to Greece. I was shocked they each had an entire outfit planned for each day of their fourteen-day trip. Um, what? No. Just no. There is no need to wear a new outfit each day. Find durable clothes like jeans or canvas pants which you can wear for several days. T-shirts, bras, and underwear can be easily washed in the bathtub or – my personal favorite – the bidet.


What about you? What items have changed the way you travel?

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Published on January 26, 2018 00:08

January 25, 2018

A collection of difficult love, broken hearts, lost hope, and discarded truths ~ Read #excerpts of Hardened Hearts #horror #scifi #fantasy

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Book title: Hardened Hearts


Authors:


Gwendolyn Kiste,‎ J.L. Knight,‎ Robert Dean,‎ Jennifer Williams,‎ Madhvi Ramani,‎ Leo X. Robertson,‎ Scott Hallam,‎ Laura Blackwell,‎ Sarah L. Johnson,‎ Meg Elison,‎ Tom Deady,‎ Somer Canon,‎ Calvin Demmer,‎ Theresa Braun,‎ John Boden,‎ Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi,‎ Eddie Generous,‎ James Newman (Foreword)


Genre: Horror, Sci-fi, Fantasy, Speculative


Published: December 3, 2017 by Unnerving


~ Blurb ~

17 stories of difficult love, broken hearts, lost hope, and discarded truths. Love brings pain, vulnerability, and demands of revenge. Hardened Hearts spills the sum of darkness and light concerning the measures of love; including works from Meg Elison, author of The Book of the Unnamed Midwife (Winner of the Philip K. Dick Award), Tom Deady, author of Haven (Winner of the Bram Stoker award for Superior Achievement in a First Novel), Gwendolyn Kiste, author of And Her Smile Will Untether the Universe and Pretty Marys All in a Row, and many more.


Hardened Hearts dips from speculative, horror, science fiction, fantasy, into literary and then out of the classifiable and into the waters of unpinned genres, but pure entertainment nonetheless.


Grab a copy!

Amazon


~ Excerpts ~

40 Ways to Leave Your Monster Lover – Gwendolyn Kiste


Never accept an invitation from a wolf. That’s a simple rule and one you should appreciate. All girls understand such a danger. But when a man isn’t a wolf—not yet anyhow, the moon isn’t right—and when the invitation is not a shrouded pathway into a forest but an entrée downtown with dinner and a Broadway play, how dangerous can it be?


(Would it be too on-the-nose if the tickets are for Into the Woods?)


You’re in an Uber on your way to the theater when your mother calls. You don’t answer. What would you say to her anyway? “I’m going on a date with a married man. How’s your ladies group at church?” No, it’s better to leave her to voicemail.


After the show, over red wine and a red tablecloth, he tells you everything you want to know about him. His eyes are greener than you remember.


When the restaurant shutters for the evening, he leads you to a waiting taxi. Since he lives on the other side of town—he’s already told you his address three times—he doesn’t join you. But as you climb in the backseat, he leans in and kisses your cheek and leaves a whisper in your ear before he turns and vanishes into the darkness.


What is Love? – Calvin Demmer


The die cast.


Their fate dealt.


I targeted the wooden huts, raining bolts of lightning their way. Beautiful infernos erupted. I aimed for the wooden enclosures next, sending livestock running in a frenzied stampede. The villagers stared at me with mouths agape and eyes threatening to pop out. The pandemonium reached its crescendo. I ignored the cacophony of screams between the cracks of thunder, indifferent to the chaos I’d brought upon the village.


I followed commands.


Lerato’s enemies were my enemies.


Destruction had become routine.


As my wings grew tired, the devastation below bored me. The cracks within my soul demanded more than papering over. The chief of the doomed village burst from his hut, pulling me from my thoughts. The proud man wore feathers tied around his head and animal-skin attire rode his abdomen and hips. He shook his fist at me.


I directed an unrelenting bolt his way.


The white electrostatic discharge cracked. The chief could do nothing as he burst into flames. He fell, burned to a crisp.


The ash and bone that remained of the man pierced my mind. I’d done it. The typical excuse that I was following orders didn’t work.


This was my crime.


They had all been mine.


Porcelain Skin – Laura Blackwell


Ruth stared at the unfamiliar thing. It was bigger than a recipe box, smaller than a shoe box, and made of heavily polished rosewood. “All right,” she said cautiously.


Michael’s smile slipped. “It’s from Helen’s son. He wants you to have it. You remember Helen, right?”


“Helen was my best friend,” snapped Ruth. “She died in 1982. It’s been thirteen years, but I haven’t forgotten her.” Never forgot the gentle smile, the scent of her lily-of-the-valley soap.


“He said this was on her dresser as long as he could remember,” Michael explained, looking disappointed.


“He thought maybe you gave it to her, because you two used to go to the ballet together in Atlanta.”


Michael opened the box lid, and a porcelain dancer sprang into view, slowly rotating to a tinkling tune.


Ruth shook her head. Not even the tune was familiar. “If it was Helen’s, I’d be honored to have it. I’ll writehim a thank-you note later today.”


Ruth and Michael had lunch at the one restaurant that changed the oil for the fried okra often enough. Afterward, he checked the noisy pipe in the bathroom, but didn’t find a leak to repair. By midafternoon, the stunted rear of his toy-like car was turned to her house, and the gravel crunched for what was likely to be the last time until the electric-meter reader came. The closest neighbor was a quarter of a mile away.


When she went to bed that night, Ruth wound the music box and set it on her bedside table. She watched the pretty ballerina spin slowly. The minor-key tune wasn’t from a ballet; it sounded more like a lullaby. The pink satin lining told her nothing, nor did the ballerina’s pose (arms in sixth position, feet en pointe in first), nor did the oval mirror that doubled its movement. Ruth examined the serene porcelain face, with its softly blushing cheeks, its pink smile, its direct gaze. People used to say Helen had porcelain skin—and to be sure, it wasn’t freckled and sun-roughened like Ruth’s—but the ballerina was a different thing altogether. It was new to her, nothing to remind her of her friend, but Ruth felt a surge of warmth toward it anyway.


~ Editor bio ~

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Eddie Generous is the creator, editor, designer, and publisher of Unnerving and Unnerving Magazine. He is part pigeon and part taco, and resides on the Pacific Coast of British Columbia with his wife and their feline overlords.


Links

Unnervingmagazine ~ Goodreads

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Published on January 25, 2018 23:16

January 24, 2018

Revenge will be sweet or? Read an #excerpt of Fish Farm #thriller #suspense

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Book title: Fish Farm


Author: Walt Sautter


Genre: Thriller, Suspense


Published: December 2017


~ Blurb ~

Meet Jack, a God fearing family man with malice towards none but little does he know of that which awaits him. Within days of our meeting, Jack’s life will be shattered and he will be forced into new, perilous surroundings. He is sure he knows the cause of his downfall and vengeful thoughts haunt him incessantly.


He is soon drawn into a struggle with local thugs which forces him into a dangerous confrontation. Jack becomes ever hardened by the conflict and together with the help new found friends, he takes grisly retaliation.


Emboldened by his newly acquired mettle he decides to avenge those who he believes led to his initial undoing. Revenge will be sweet or so he thinks?


Grab a copy!

Amazon ~ Smashwords


~ Excerpt ~

After riding for several more minutes, a sign appears in the distance. The sign reads – ‘Sorry – No fish are bitin’ today – Closed for Repairs’. They turn and drive down the long, dirt lane adjacent to the sign. A dust cloud pours from the rear of the car as they drive. It is Sticksville for sure. Larry appears as a burly, unshaven man with a long scraggy, white pony tail and several missing teeth. He’s got faded tats on both arms – “Nam 68” and “Khe Sanh” and a huge keloid scar on his left cheek. He is sitting in a rocker on his dilapidated porch wearing faded blue jeans and an unbuttoned raggedy, red and black flannel shirt with cut off sleeves. His large, shaggy, red mongrel dog Rusty is lying next to him. He is slowly rocking back and forth as the car approaches. He continues to rock even as Jack and Petey get out of the car. “You got it here alright I see.” “Hope it’s gonna work okay after that ride down your road there” replied Petey. “Oh, it’s gonna work just fine I’m sure” Larry answers confidently with a broad grin. Petey goes to the trunk and starts to untie the box. “No, leave ’em on” Jack calls. “Well, how are we gonna get it out of the trunk and into the house if we don’t untie it?” “You didn’t tell ’em Jack?” “No, I didn’t.” “Guess ya wanta make is a surprise, huh?” Larry says with a laugh. Jack is silence for a moment and then turns to Petey who is standing perplexed and still holding the cord which is securing the box. “Listen, Petey, there’s no TV in there. Come over here and sit down for a minute.”


~ About the author ~

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Walter Sautter has been writing crime thrillers and comedies for the past three decades. His diverse work is inspired by true life events and socials issues.


Walt lives in a small New Jersey town with his wife of over 40 years. He enjoys golfing, writing and is passionate about educational reform.


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Published on January 24, 2018 23:57