D.E. Haggerty's Blog, page 49
April 6, 2017
Read an excerpt of the #cyberthriller Alan 2 from @DrBruceForciea @pumpupyourbook
[image error]
Title: ALAN 2
Author: Bruce Forciea
Publisher: Open Books
Pages: 278
Genre: Cyber-Thriller
Synopsis
A brilliant artificial intelligence (AI) scientist, Dr. Alan Boyd, develops a new program that integrates part of his brain with a computer’s operating system. The program, Alan 2, can anticipate a user’s needs and automatically perform many tasks. A large software company, International Microsystems (IM) desperately wants the program and tempts Dr. Boyd with huge sums of money, but when Dr. Boyd refuses their offer, IM sabotages his job, leaving him in a difficult financial situation.
Dr. Boyd turns to Alan 2 for an answer to his financial problems, and Alan 2 develops plan Alpha, which is a cyber robin hood scheme to rob from rich corporations via a credit card scam.
Alan and his girlfriend Kaitlin travel to Mexico where they live the good life funded by plan Alpha, but the FBI cybercrime division has discovered part of Alan 2’s cyber escapades, and two agents, Rachel and Stu, trace the crime through the TOR network and Bitcoin.
Alan 2 discovers the FBI is on to them and advises Alan and Kaitlin to change locations. A dramatic chase ensues taking them to St. Thomas, a cruise ship bound for Spain, and finally to Morocco.
Will they escape detection? They will if Alan 2’s Plan Beta can be implemented in time. Or is ‘Plan B’ something altogether different than it appears to be, something wholly sinister that will affect the entire population of the world?
Watch the trailer at YouTube!
Grab a copy now!
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Publisher
Excerpt
Bang! Bang! Bang! The flimsy apartment door rattled on its frame with every blow.
“Kaitlin, don’t even think of answering that!” Alan growled through his teeth.
Kaitlin shrugged her shoulders and moved away from the door toward the living room where Alan sat at a table full of electronics gear.
“Dr. Boyd, are you home?” shouted the voice on the other side of the door in an Indian accent. “I want to talk to you. I have a very good offer. Please, Dr. Boyd, it will only take a minute, and I think you will be quite pleased with what we have for you.”
“Go away; leave us alone,” Alan shouted. “I don’t want your offer.”
“But Dr. Boyd, we do pay very well. We are great admirers of your work.”
“I don’t care and I don’t want your money,” said Alan. “Now go away before I call the police.”
“Think about it, Dr. Boyd; I will be in touch.”
“Incessant bastards,” said Alan as his attention turned back to his work. “I’ll cherish the day they leave us alone. Kaitlin, come over here and help me with this injection.”
Alan rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt while Kaitlin picked up the syringe containing the gadolinium contrast. She pinched an ample section of skin and plunged the syringe into his arm. The needle stung like an angry wasp, causing Alan to grimace.
“Can’t you be gentle? You’ve done enough of these by now to get the hang of it. You shouldn’t jam it in like that!”
Kaitlin rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I think I do pretty well considering I don’t have any medical training,” she said while jerking the syringe out of his arm.
“Okay, okay. Just take your position at the console.”
She sighed, plopped onto a small task chair and rolled over to a makeshift wooden table holding a desktop PC and a large high-definition monitor. She had been through this process countless times before.
Alan entered a large metallic structure in the center of the living room. The box-like structure, made of aluminum, dominated the rectangular room which was devoid of furniture. Its dull silver hue contrasted the blank walls. He closed the door and climbed into a chair that looked like it came from an early Gemini spacecraft. The stiff plastic chair, sandwiched between two large metal discs, afforded a good deal of postural support but little comfort. He sat down and slowly slid his head between the thick metal and plastic arms of a large U-shaped device. There was just enough clearance as he wriggled his head to achieve the perfect position. He pulled down on a large metallic tube suspended above him so that it surrounded his entire head. He positioned the tube so that the rectangular slit lined up with his visual axis, allowing for a line of sight to the monitor located outside of the tube. The small fMRI scanner had taken a good deal of time and money to cobble together, but it was the only way to capture the needed information from his brain.
Alan viewed Kaitlin through a small round Plexiglas window in the door and signaled with a thumbs-up to begin the scan. She waved and entered the start sequence into the keyboard, sat back, slid an unlit cigarette between her lips and picked up a copy of People Magazine. He pushed his head back against the headrest and adjusted the monitor suspended on a boom so he could see the screen. The machine first hummed as it powered up and then made periodic knocking sounds.
Alan focused his attention on the monitor while the scanner began its first sequence. The monitor displayed a series of images designed to evoke emotions. Each image popped onto the screen and persisted for ten seconds before another replaced it. There was a small child holding hands with his father, a mother holding a baby, a couple admiring their child in a crib, and many more. All the images had been chosen to trigger emotional responses, causing changes in blood flow to certain areas of Alan’s brain. An image would appear for a few seconds and then the machine would complete a scan. The process repeated until all one hundred twenty-seven images had been displayed. The entire cycle then repeated two more times with random sequences of the same set of images.
This would be the final scan involving diffusion tensor imaging of Alan’s frontal lobes. Previous scans had involved the study of responses to a variety of topics. In addition to emotions such as sadness, joy, anxiety, and fear, there were cognitive studies that examined Alan’s problem solving techniques as well as his reaction to global events. In all, there were over one hundred fifty scans taken over the past two years.
About the Author
[image error]
Bruce Forciea is known for taking complex scientific concepts and making them easy to understand through engaging stories and simple explanations. He is an Amazon Best Selling Author and author of several books on healing and biology, along with science fiction thriller novels. His fiction writing draws on a diverse and eclectic background that includes touring and performing with a professional show, designing digital circuits, treating thousands of patients, and teaching. His stories include complex plots with unexpected twists and turns, quirky characters, and a reality very similar to our own. Dr. Forciea lives in Wisconsin and loves writing during the solitude of the long Northern winters.
Stalk the Author
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK
April 5, 2017
Read an excerpt of Storm Winds #romanticsuspense from @ksdavidromance
[image error]
Title: STORM WINDS: AN OUTER BANKS MYSTERY
Author: K.S. David
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 180
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Synopsis
Moving to the North Carolina Outer Banks was a chance for Leah Kymes to put her life back together, after her marriage went sour. But peace and quiet evade her, when her father is discovered murdered in his fish and tackle shop. Not willing to wait for authorities to solve the crime, she begins to delve into recent events involving her Dad. What she uncovers shatters her understanding of the man she thought she knew so well. At Leah’s side is her old flame, Officer Aden Parker, who runs interference between Leah and the salty detective who sees her as a hindrance. Ignoring Aden’s warnings, she deepens her probe, but soon draws the attention of a handsome stranger. Is this new man just competing for her affection – or a vicious killer intent on making Leah his next victim?
GRAB A COPY
Amazon
Excerpt
Perched on top of a sand dune, Leah looked across the ocean as waves curled and crashed against the shore. Behind her, stalled traffic lined North Carolina’s Highway 12, six miles deep. Residents of the Outer Banks fled their homes days earlier as the dark clouds of a Category 3 hurricane raced toward them. Now they were headed back to whatever the storm had left behind.
Leah’s father, Rex, had ignored the warnings. “I ain’t scared of no damned storm,” he’d said. “It’s the price we pay for living in paradise, honey.”
Rex had been born and bred on the North Carolina coast. He was sun-tough, with seawater for blood. An average-sized man with a shock of white hair, a face lined by hard living, and eyes as blue and alert as a clear summer sky, he feared no man, and believed destiny was his to write. She believed that he was invincible when she was a child. She knew better now. After a week without a word from him, Leah’s frustration was speeding toward fear.
She dug her toes beneath the warm sand, ran her hands through her thick auburn hair, and twisted it into a bun. She’d spent nearly four days huddled in a hotel room, watching hours of new reports as the storm tracked toward the Outer Banks. Afterward, she searched photos of the destruction, straining to see if the home she shared with Rex and their businesses had been spared.
Leah picked up her cell phone and tapped the photo of her father. Since the storm hit, communication had been spotty to the Outer Banks. Like all the times before, her call went straight to Rex’s voice mail. Instead of leaving another agitated message, she ended the call, picked up a stick, and jammed it into the sand.
She was irritated. If she knew him well, and she did, her father hadn’t thought once about the worry he caused. The old cuss was probably fine, but it was strange that he hadn’t called to check on her, not even once. When her mind pondered over that loose detail, she pushed it to the furthest spot in her brain.
The blare of horns signaled that it was time to move. She skidded down the dune that hugged the road. Course granules of sand shifted underfoot as she descended. Heat pressed against her bare feet as she fished her keys out of the pocket of her cutoff shorts. Gaps in the line had been created by drivers who’d already moved forward and the woman parked behind Leah laid on her horn and growled, “We’re trying to get home today, please!”
Leah sighed, grit her teeth, and gave a quick wave. “Sorry.” Beneath her breath, she mumbled, “Go to hell.” They were all in the same predicament and moving a few feet forward wasn’t going to get either of them on the ferry any faster. She’d been in line for nearly two hours on the southern tip of Ocracoke Island. It would take another hour before she reached the pier for a forty-minute boat ride before landing on Hatteras Island, then another fifteen before she got to her father’s house in the town of Frisco.
A hand tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you Ms. Leah Kymes?”
A Hyde County police officer stared down at her. Sometimes, cops issued tickets to drivers who walked away from their cars when they were in the line for the ferry, especially at times like this. A ticket was the last thing she needed.
“I’m getting ready to pull up. We’ve been sitting here–”
The cop threw a hand up to stop her. “It’s okay.” He stepped closer and asked again, “Are you Leah Kymes?”
She frowned and looked down the line of cars. Eying him, she answered, “Yeah, I’m Leah Kymes.”
“I’m Officer Alfred Hawkins. The Dare County Police Department requested that we locate and help you back over to Hatteras.”
She stepped back. “Why?”
He shrugged, “Don’t know. I was just told to find you.”
“Is this about my father?” Her stomach turned at the thought that something bad had happened.
Hawkins held up a hand, “Ma’am, I don’t know.” He was a tall man, with smooth dark brown skin and an open face. “I was asked to get you back over to the island.”
She looked at the backed-up traffic. There were still six miles to go before getting to the landing.
As if reading her mind, Officer Hawkins added, “I can take you back on one of the guard boats. Your car won’t fit but another officer will get it on the next ferry.”
At first, only a few drivers showed any interest when Hawkins first appeared beside Leah, but radios quieted and chatter ebbed when a second cruiser pulled alongside them and deposited another cop. Hawkins called over his shoulder to a female officer, “Direct the rest of the cars around us.”
This officer was young. She’d chopped her brown hair into a pageboy and appeared to be losing the battle against acne. Giving Leah a quick, dismissive glance, she turned and waved the other cars along.
The woman who’d shouted at Leah earlier eased by slowly, but kept her curious gaze locked on the action.
“You sure you don’t know anything?” Leah asked, searching Hawken’s face.
“No,” he said. Dark shades covered his eyes. Leah couldn’t read his face but there was something in the brevity of his reply that worried her. Before she could question him any further, he said, “That’s Officer Maynard.” He pointed to the woman directing traffic. “She’ll drive your car to the ferry. Someone on the other side will make sure it gets to Hatteras.”
Maynard didn’t look old enough to drive, and Leah didn’t like the idea of leaving her car in someone else’s hands, but what choice did she have. The line wasn’t getting any shorter and she needed answers. Eyeing Hawkins again, she worried that he was being evasive. Cops never tell the whole story until they’re ready. She opened the car door, pulled out her shoes and handbag, and tossed her keys on the seat. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said to Hawkins.
He raced them along the shoulder of the highway, past the line of cars waiting for the next ferry. He parked against the edge of a sand dune and then escorted Leah to a small, white police boat. “We’ll ride over together,” he said.
He separated from her as soon as they hit the boat’s deck and nudged himself into a corner with four other cops. Leah sat alone on a small portside bench and watched them watching her. They kept their voices low and, every so often, shot skimming glances in her direction. Hawkins had been sent to find her–to look specifically for Leah Kymes. There were thousands of people trying to get back on the island and every resource was tied up in the restoration effort, yet some official had seen fit to use Hawkins and a police boat to fetch her. Why?
After a moment, she stood and turned away from the cops. Leaning against the rails, she closed her eyes, pushed her face into the wind, and tried to concentrate on the roar of the boat’s engine, the swish of the wake created as they cut through the waves, the call of the seagulls sailing overhead, anything but the sound of doubt coming from deep inside her own chest.
She had tried not to get anxious over the twenty-four-hour media coverage. She left the hotel room as often as she could, sped through several novels, caught up on emails, and even allowed herself the luxury of uninhibited sleep. None of it managed to shake loose a growing sense of foreboding. Something bad must have happened to Rex, a thought that drove her to file a missing person’s report. Her father would be furious with her for doubting him. There was, of course, another issue. Rex loathed the police, a fact that made Leah pause each time she started dialing the emergency hotline. There were some cops he’d warmed to over the years but, as far as he was concerned, most could pucker up and kiss his crotchety old ass.
On Hatteras Island, Officer Hawkins walked her to a squat, yellow building known as the Inlet. Hugging the tip of the pier, the Inlet served as a visitor’s center. A balmy wind pushed three blue signs that advertised snacks, restrooms, and ferryboat information. Across the lot was Hatteras Landing, where a collection of tourist shops and eateries were housed in a blistering white stucco building. It was usually overrun with tourists this time of year but stood empty because of the storm.
Rex had to be okay, she thought. Then, like an erratic wind, her mind shifted, and the voice in her head would shout, they don’t send police escorts for a simple missing person’s report, or do they? Maybe it was because Rex was elderly and kind of like a town fixture. If he were the only citizen unaccounted for, the officials wouldn’t hesitate to put more effort into finding him.
Perhaps they had located Rex, but he’d been injured. The storm had been a whopper. It had raged against the coast for nearly eight hours. News reports showed cars and debris thrown all over the place, and homes and buildings had been torn apart like toys. A crack had appeared in Highway 12, severing lower Hatteras from the northern shores.
Immersed in her thoughts, she almost plowed into a man standing at the top of the ramp. She started her apology without even bothering to look up then began to move around the figure when a hand closed around the top of her arm.
“Lee?”
She raised her eyes to study the face of the man that had used her name. He was a head taller with soft brown eyes and tanned skin. A faint scar zigzagged from his bottom lip and disappeared beneath his chin. She’d given him that scar, slamming her Hello Kitty lunch box into his face after he’d popped the head off her Cabbage Patch doll.
“Aiden?” she replied. Then, more confident, she gushed, “Aiden Parker!”
She hadn’t seen him since she was eighteen. A thousand questions popped into her head, as she considered his ruggedly handsome face. Was he married? Was he back in the Outer Banks? How was his family? Did he have kids?
Her mouth had started to quiver out the first question when Officer Hawkins moved past her, and like a pendulum swinging, her thoughts immediately shifted back to Rex. “I know this sounds rude, but I’ll have to catch up with you later. I have an emergency right now. Maybe we can exchange information or something,” she mumbled, already heading away.
“I know,” he said, taking the crook of her arm again, to stop her.
She cocked her head. “You know what?”
“I’m a cop with the Dare County Police Department, and I know you made a call about Rex.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared into his face for a moment. Like Hawkins, his expression was flat. “Where is he?”
“Come inside so we can talk,” he said.
“Where’s my father?” she insisted, determined not to move from that spot until she got an answer.
“Come on,” Aiden said. He placed his hand on her shoulder and urged her up the last few feet of the ramp. They crossed the store and walked down the hallway past a set of restrooms. He opened a thick door with a sign, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. The building also housed offices for the Park Service and the North Carolina Department of Transportation, which operated the ferry service. Three uniformed officers chatted beside a bank of windows. Their conversation halted then picked up again in hushed tones.
Aiden pointed her to a conference room. “We can talk in here.”
A large man with flaccid jowls and a rumpled brown suit stood at a window overlooking the sound.
“This is Detective Eric Lawson,” Aiden said.
“Where’s my dad?” Leah asked. This time, she didn’t try to hide her irritation. Fear crawled up her spine, and she bound her prickly arms around her belly, as the big man turned to greet her.
Lawson pointed Leah to a seat at the table. “Let’s talk for a moment.”
She pulled back one of the chairs, barely noticing when the leg scraped against her foot. Lawson lowered his considerable frame into a seat opposite her, while Aiden replaced him at the window. Her leg shook and the sound of her flip-flops slapping against the sole of her foot broke the uneasy quiet in the room. Lawson leaned in and smiled but, despite the wide, toothy grin, Leah felt no warmth coming from the man. She recoiled, slight uncomfortable under the unyielding glare of his cold, gray eyes.
“I have a few questions,” he said, “if you don’t mind.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. “When was the last time you saw your father?”
She rubbed her hands together. “Um, the day before the storm. Why?”
He scribbled her response on a short, wire-rimmed notepad. “Home, or at his store?”
“At the house. He refused to leave, but wanted me to go.”
“Was he planning to ride out the storm at the house?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but you gotta give me something.” She tugged her hair out of the bun, twisted it tighter, and reset the scrunchie. “Is my father still missing?” Her head was spinning and all the horrid images of what that could mean rushed through her brain. She pressed the back of her hand to her upper lip, blotting away a light sheen of sweat. Despite the hum of the air conditioner and the bank of windows that stretched the entire length of the room, the space felt small and stifling. She asked again, “Is he still missing?”
Lawson pursed his lips. “No. He’s not missing.”
She let her head fall back and whispered a quiet prayer. “Thank, God.” But her elation turned midstride as another wave of terror struck. “Is he okay?”
Rex wasn’t a young man. That had been the point of their argument. Riding out a murderous storm was dangerous, but for a sixty-nine-year-old man, it was akin to lunacy.
Aiden turned from the window and slipped into the chair beside her. He grabbed the seat’s edge and scooted closer. His face was hard and serious, but softened when he took her hands. “Leah, there’s no easy way to say this.” He stopped to swallow, the sound loud enough for her to hear. “Your father is dead.”
She tilted her head and stared at him in disbelief. Her mind a blur, Leah struggled to process what he said. The air grew thinner, and she snatched her hands away from Aiden, held them in mid-air, then turned her gaze to Lawson, as if seeking confirmation.
He nodded. “He’s dead, Ms. Kymes.”
A long, sorrowful moan lifted from her chest, and Leah leaned forward, pressing hands to her eyes, as if trying to hold back the flood of tears. She turned suddenly to Aiden. “How?” she asked. “How?”
He inched closer, his knees pressing into hers. “Lee,” which was the name he’d given her when they were children, “I need you to listen to me.” The next words sliced into her like a knife. “Lee, your dad was murdered. Somebody shot him.”
About the Author
S. David lives in the Mid-Atlantic with her husband, their three children and a spoiled sheepadoodle. She’s addicted to true life mysteries and crime shows, both of which marry well with a great romance. Some of her favorite things are long walks, reading in bed, baking and, of course, writing her next novel.
Stalk the author
WEBSITE | TWITTER
[image error]
Easy tips and trick for self-editing #WriterWednesday #AmWriting #AmEditing
Before I get started, let me make this clear – self-editing is not a substitute for an editor! You should always – make that ALWAYS – use a paid editor for at least copy editing. There are plenty out there who are affordable. Okay, now that’s out of the way, let’s talk about self-editing.
Self-editing is a must. Just because you hire an editor doesn’t excuse you from self-editing. I know it sucks, but that’s life. Sometimes it’s difficult. Sometimes it sucks the will to live from you. You do it anyway. Here are a few tricks I use to make sure I don’t fall into a coma when editing. (I’m assuming you’ve heard the standard advice of print everything out, speak out loud)
[image error]
Highlighting overused words. You’ve been told a zillion times to eliminate crutch words. We each have our own crutch words, but, as an example, here are some of mine: even, totally, that, so, just, still, only. Before I print out my manuscript to edit, I highlight (find and replace in Word is a godsend) my crutch words. I also do a word count to see how many times I use each word. While reviewing, I pay special attention to my crutch words. Can I delete it? What about substituting a different word? Trust me, you can delete ‘that’ from your manuscript at least 25% of the time. After my first run through, I’ll do another word count to see how I did. Rinse and repeat.
Think of it as a text. If you’re having a hard time with deleting those pesky crutch words, pretend the dialogue is a text. Make it witty but short and sweet. This probably only works for us ‘older’ writers who text like we talk and have no clue what most of those snappy acronyms mean. (Reading out loud also helps with deleting crutch words, but who hasn’t heard that advice too many times to count?)
[image error]Re-read last chapters separately. I don’t know about you, but I find it impossible to concentrate for twelve hours straight. Those first chapters of my manuscript are polished and polished and polished, but the final chapters? They’re often neglected. I’m positive I’m not the only writer who has this problem considering how many novels I read, which contain a multitude of errors towards the ending. The easy solution? Separately edit the final chapters (I take the last five) a few (additional) times.
Make a quick outline. I’m a big fan of making sure that not only the flow of the writing works, but ensuring that characters don’t learn information multiple times or too early or too late. Murder mysteries don’t work if the red herrings and clues are given out at the wrong time. My easy solution? An additional outline I make while doing my editing. This is a down and dirty outline with just the bare necessities: who, what, where.
Read your #WIP through all at once. I save this one for my final self-edit. I also turn off all electronics and basically lock myself in the house all day. The dog is not amused, but he hasn’t bitten me yet so there is that. You’ll be able to evaluate the tempo as well as character development and overall story progress.
I try to go through my manuscript at least four times before sending it off to the editor. More would be better, but, at some point, I can’t see the forest for the trees anymore. While the manuscript is at the editor, I don’t look at it. Nope, not I. That’s my time for working on promotions and maybe catching up on sleep as I tend to put in 12 – 16 hour days while editing. Did someone say beer?
[image error]
Read an excerpt & my review of Legend’s Promise, #erotica #paranormal from @Dani_Jace
[image error]
✰✰BOOK BLITZ✰✰
Book Title: Legend’s Promise
Author: Dani Jace
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Erotica
Release Date: February 25, 2017
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
@Dani_Jace #LegendsPromise #PNR #Paranormal #Erotica #BookBlitz #BEP
#Synopsis:
Hawk shifter, and bad-boy biker, Shane Cheveyo spent years trying to outride his secret life and memories of his first love, who left without a word. Rekindled passion reveals their true magical natures, but will it save them or separate their destinies forever…
#Grab a copy now!
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Kobo ~ iTunes
Add the book to Goodreads ➜ http://bit.ly/2mYN9Tg
#Review
The idea of this story captured me. Shifters and the Native American world – sounds mystical, not to mention intriguing. The story itself was complex and contained love, mystery and a bit of suspense. It’s always difficult for a novella to contain a complex story, but Legend’s Promise delivered.
Shane and Cheyenne’s characters weren’t deeply developed, but that’s nearly impossible to do in the short length of the novella. One thing that did bother me about the couple was the lack of communication. I really wanted them to have a good sit down and discuss the past and future. Never happened.
My problem with the story was the writing. It was choppy. The transitions between scenes and chapters weren’t smooth. The change from his to her perspective and vice versa didn’t work for me. It was too disruptive. The sexual encounters were a bit corny for me. Maybe I’m just older than the intended audience of the story?
Overall, it’s a quick read of an hour or two with lots of steam and an interesting story. With some editing and more story development, this could make an excellent novel.
#Excerpt
She gripped the counter behind her. He’d never believed the bit about her mom changing jobs. If she revealed the real reason they’d left Manteo, he’d think her insane. “I’d never betray you, Shane.” Her words spilled out, sounding breathless.
The back of his knees hit the chair, skidding it backward. It tipped over as he closed in on her like a predator. His eyes darkened to molten caramel as his nostrils flared. Over two hundred pounds of sinewy muscles trapped her against the counter while large hands rested at her lower back.
Stunned, she froze. Anger and passion mixed. The pungent aroma of whiskey wafted from masculine lips hovering inches from hers.
In mocked defiance, she raised her chin. The act forced him to pause, but only for a second, before claiming her mouth.
Savagely.
Branding her.
As he had when she was sixteen.
Freewill gone, she melted into his hard embrace and prodding erection. His tongue swept past her teeth with hunger as he lifted her onto the counter.
“God, Chey.” He hissed, squeezing her ass, making her wet with need.
His hands roved under her skirt, skimming the tops of her thighs until his fingers caught the band of her silk thong. Like a hunter, he shredded the flimsy barrier.
Her head fell back in surrender as her hips bucked forward. Far better than whiskey, his touch drugged her, weakened her defenses. Nothing had changed.
#MeettheAuthor
Dani Jace lives in coastal Virginia and enjoys writing headstrong, flip-flop casual heroines and everyday heroes who work with their hands―and other body parts. Claiming the Outer Banks of North Carolina as her second home, she includes the scenic and legendary chain of barrier islands as a setting for many of her tales.
When not working on her next novel, she’s dipping her toes in the ocean, reading or checking out the newest action flick. Her husband, son and many imaginary characters make life complete.
#Stalk the author
Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Newsletter ~ Instagram ~ Google+ ~ Pinterest
[image error]
April 3, 2017
Read an excerpt of Daring the Pilot, #contemporaryromance from @Jeannie_Moon #giveaway @Barclay_PR @TulePublishing
DARING THE PILOT by Jeannie Moon
What do you get when you cross a brainy geophysicist and a former army helicopter pilot? Chemistry that smolders like a volcano. Keely Anderson and Jonah Clark reconnect in their hometown of Marietta, and the longtime friends find it impossible to fight their attraction for each other. Read on for a peek into Jeannie Moon’s exciting new contemporary romance, Daring the Pilot!
[image error]
Title: Daring the Pilot
Author: Jeannie Moon
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 4, 2017
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Series: Men of Marietta (Continuity series, book #3 of 5)
Word Count: 328 pages
Format: Digitial
ASIN: B01N2AQ7JH
About the book
Keely Andersen hasn’t visited her hometown more than a handful of times in the last ten years, but when her doctoral research sends her back to Marietta for the immediate future, she can’t wait to reconnect with the community and the mountains she missed so much. Of course, nothing goes as planned, and Keely’s truck breaks down a few miles outside of town. When help arrives, she finds herself face to face with her brother’s best friend – the guy she used to call big, bad and gorgeous – Jonah Clark.
Still settling back into Marietta after a harrowing stint as an army helicopter pilot, Jonah Clark plans to spend a few days hiking the local mountains to prepare for his job as a pilot for Crawford County’s Search and Rescue team. When he stops to help a stranded driver, Jonah is shocked to find his best friend’s younger sister is the one behind the wheel. Only now, instead of the geeky teen he remembered, Keely is all grown up with curves he can’t resist.
Though the sparks of attraction ignite immediately, the pair is hesitant to act because of their shared past. But when a project dear to their hearts is threatened, and a child is lost on Copper Mountain, Keely and Jonah drop everything to fight for what matters, including each other.
Grab a copy now!
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Goodreads
Excerpt
They resumed their walk, holding hands as they made their way slowly down Main Street. She imagined all the women in the past who had strolled this way with their fellas. Some of their progeny were probably in Grey’s, others had left long ago when the locale was too much of a challenge. Keely had no idea what lured her back; part of her wondered if her heart knew something was finally here for her.
Jonah was here.
“I guess you can navigate by stars,” Jonah said. “They brought you home.”
“I guess so.”
They passed the Cut and Curl where Charlotte had informed Jonah he had an appointment to be waxed. For a second, it looked like he cringed when they walked by.
She was so moved that he’d made the commitment, even though she knew how he felt about it. Jonah wasn’t shy, but he was reserved. It was going against everything he believed was appropriate.
It took a strong man, a good man, to fight his better nature to do what needed to be done.
“What made you change your mind?” she asked slipping her arm through his.
“I don’t know. Listening to you today, I guess is what pushed me. You were right.” He moved his body and bumped her shoulder lightly.
“I was, huh?”
“Yeah. We have to finish what we started; it’s too important. Harry would have wanted it that way. He gave his life helping people, the least I can do is go out of my comfort zone.”
“Not a lot of people would do that,” she reminded him.
He shrugged and kept walking, the silence was companionable, comfortable. Finally, they ended up where he parked his truck. Oddly, neither of them knew what to do. She was happy when Jonah cut to the chase.
Deftly, he walked her around and gently pressed Keely’s back into the truck, protecting her from prying eyes and teenagers out for a joy ride. “So, about that kiss…”
“What about it?”
While his hands settled on her waist, hers traveled up his hard chest and wrapped around his neck. He leaned in and seemed to hesitate for a second, taking in her face, and examining her eyes for… something.
Sparks crackled between them, giving Keely a new understanding of chemistry. No doubt they had it in spades, but did they have the nerve to turn the attraction into something more?
“You’re so beautiful, Keely.”
“No, I…” What was he saying? She never saw herself as beautiful. Never. “Jonah, I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Not possible.”
“But I’m not…”
He pressed a finger to her lips and silenced her. “You’re beautiful. And you’re mine.”
The prolonged anticipation was unbearable. Everything he did had stops and starts. The way he touched her set her blood on fire. Her skin prickled with every long, languid touch. It was palpable between them, and if she were being logical, she’d say it was because everything was so new.
But that wasn’t it at all. For her, when Jonah held her, touched her, it was like she’d found home.
This time, he started on her neck. His lips touched the skin with barely a breath, and he seared a path up to her jaw, where he teased with his teeth. Keely gasped as he held her tight, nipping and teasing, until finally claiming her mouth.
Light exploded behind her eyes, this wasn’t just chemistry between them, it was magic. As gentle as he had been this afternoon, tonight, Jonah showed no mercy. Taking her mouth fully with his, moving, tasting, allowing his tongue to sweep the inside, the warmth and invasion aroused her, making her want even more.
His fingers gathered the back of her shirt, and she gasped when she felt his skin on hers, his work-roughened hands touch the bare skin of her back. The sensations, the heat, were intense and intoxicating, and had her thinking about how it would feel to be under him, naked. Moving.
Grinding against him, she had no idea the kind of reaction it would trigger, but with a groan he thrust into her, allowing his erection to press into her belly.
“You smell like heaven. Like vanilla and honey.” Jonah nuzzled her temple, leaving a soft kiss and a question.
“I want you,” he whispered into her hair. “I want to make love to you. Let me.”
He wanted her. The cliché about a person’s heart aching in their chest obviously had some basis in truth, because Keely’s heart ached. It was full, and feeling like she’d just experienced a miracle. She burrowed into his chest, getting as close as possible.
“Take me home, Jonah.”
“Home?” Pulling back, he tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head toward him “Did I scare you? I thought…”
“You didn’t scare me. Why would you think that?’
“You said you want to go home?”
She giggled. He sounded a little desperate, and Keely figured there was nothing better in the world. “Your home. I want to be with you.”
With a long exhale, Jonah laughed nervously. “Okay. Do you have to get your car? Tell anyone?”
Keely hadn’t stopped touching him, running her hands up and down his chest. She enjoyed watching him try to maintain control. Taking a page from his book, she stood on her toes and nipped his chin, his earlobe, his neck. “I didn’t drive, and I’ll text my friends.”
“What will you tell them?” His jaw hardened as she teased him.
She wanted to say that she was going to tell everyone she was going to have sex with him, but knew that probably wouldn’t end well. “I’m going to tell them I’m safe.”
Her words weren’t an accident. She did feel safe with him. Even though her life was going to change, in every way possible, Keely knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Behind her she heard the locks on his truck click, and Jonah reached around her to open the door. Like earlier today, he lifted her up and when her butt hit the seat, she slid over so he could get in.
This was a beginning. Not just for Keely, but for both of them. And she had no idea where it was going to lead.
Giveaway
Spread the news about DARING THE PILOT with a GIVEAWAY!
One winner will receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
Enter here!
About the author
[image error]
Bestselling contemporary romance author Jeannie Moon, has always been a romantic. When she’s not spinning tales of her own, Jeannie works as a school librarian, thankful she has a job that allows her to immerse herself in books and call it work. Married to her high school sweetheart, she has three kids, three lovable dogs and resides on Long Island, NY. If she’s more than ten miles away from salt water for any longer than a week, she gets twitchy. Visit Jeannie’s website at www.jeanniemoon.com
Stalk the author!
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Instagram | Pinterest | BookBub | Goodreads | Sign up for Jeannie’s Newsletter
Follow the tour
Visit all participating blogs for more chances to WIN!
April 3, 2017 I Love Romance The Silver Dagger Scriptorium Books,Dreams,Life Lover of Big Books Cannot Lie
April 4, 2017 Evermore Books Romantic Reads and Such The Avid Reader Straight Shootin’ Book Reviews Readsalot Jen’s Reading Obsession Reese’s Reviews
April 5, 2017 Hike2Forty and beyond Splashes Into Books For Love of Books4 Naughty Book Eden
April 6, 2017 Book Loving Pixies Nicole’s Book Musings Tangled Hearts Book Reviews ChickLit Club Those Crazy Book Chicks The Sassy Bookster The Power of Three Readers Lisa’s Loves (Books of Course)
April 7, 2017 It’s All About the Romance SiK Reviews a small girl, her man and her books Lovey Dovey Books Travels N Reads Chill and read EskieMama Reads & Dragon Lady Reads Oh My Growing TBR OMGReads MI Bookshelf Booklove
[image error]
Why I’m afraid to call myself a writer but shouldn’t be #MondayBlogs #Amwriting
I’m more than a bit addicted to House Hunters International. Not only is the house porn exceptional (even though the couple NEVER choses the house they should), but I love the back stories. I spend a great deal of time betting whether the couple/family will survive living in a foreign country. (Dear House Hunters, Can you please, please do a five-year follow-up program?) I recently watched a re-run of a show involving a couple moving to Mexico. He was working on his first novel and had never written anything before. Yet, he had no problem calling himself a writer. I’ve just sent my 11th book off to the editor, and I still have an issue calling myself a writer. Why oh why do I have this problem? Naturally, I had to analyze the question. Here’s what I came up with.
[image error]Well of lost plots. One of the most popular responses people have to my telling them I’m a writer is – I want to write a book, too! Like, hey, it’s no big deal! Anyone can do it! They’re not exactly wrong. With self-publishing comes the ability for absolutely everyone to publish their ‘story’. It’s like running a marathon. You feel super proud and accomplished for having finished, but no one else cares. Until (and sometimes even after) you’ve written more than the initial book that absolutely everyone seems to write, it’s hard to be taken seriously as a writer. If no one else is going to take me seriously (besides family and friends that is), then should I take myself seriously? *rolls eyes* Um, yes, Dena, you should.
[image error]Money. Although I now earn a few hundred dollars of royalties every month, I in no way no how make enough money with my writing to support myself. Can I call myself a writer if I don’t live off my writing? Of course, I can! There are plenty of writers who write articles for well-known magazines and newspapers but can’t support themselves from such writing. Now to convince myself of this when people start asking those pesky questions about my ‘job’.
Indie. Indie writers may have been around for a while now, but we still get a bad rap. I literally cannot count the number of times someone loses interest in my writing the moment they discover I’m self-published. Sure, there are several self-published authors who have written bestselling books. Somehow telling people this information doesn’t endear me to them. I know I shouldn’t give a crap what other people think, but I’m only human and it’s hurtful when you meet someone new and they immediately dismiss you because your self-published. (Sure, this isn’t the type of person who I want to be friends with but still…) Now that I have ten published books to my name, I notice the dismissals are less blatant. That may be because I start by saying I’ve published ten books J
My ‘concerns’ about calling myself a writer are somewhat lame – as evidenced above. Maybe I should just get over it.
[image error]
Read an excerpt of COED from @jamesfantjr #romance #giveaway
[image error]
Title: COED
Author: James Fant
Genre: Romance
Published: 2/14/2017
~ Synopsis ~
Can a man and a woman be best friends without somebody catching feelings?
Travis Barber and Sade Styles are best friends of the opposite sex. Despite what everyone thinks, they are not getting busy…yet.
Co-owners of a popular barbershop/salon in named CoEd, Travis and Sade spend the bulk of their days together. But when Sade’s apartment lease runs out and Travis offers her the spare bedroom of his newly built house, will they end up sharing more than just the utilities?
This witty, fast-paced romance seeks to answer the question: can a man and a woman be best friends without crossing that fine line into the land of lovers. Best case scenario, nothing happens. Worst case scenario, they get to know each other a little too well and end up hating each other!
Are Travis and Sade making the best move for their friendship?
Grab a copy!
Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo ~ iBooks
~ Excerpt ~
She said…
I should be ashamed of myself. I was flirting heavily with Trap and that’s not right. I know that I was just using him to get over my hurt. But he was my friend. We’ve been friends for a long time. Who better to cheer me up than Trap? The caveat is the type of cheer I wanted went way beyond kind words. I wanted him badly. I thought it was just the Peach Schnapps talking. But nah, I needed a release. I felt tense. My head was not on straight and some good ole fashioned sex would do me well.
The cool thing is Trap and I were away at Myrtle Beach. We had been drinking. We were heading to the concert hall in the lobby of the hotel. Lalah Hathaway was going to take us there. I had every intention of letting Trap hold me in his arms on the dance floor. I was going to back that thang up on him real close. And then we would retire to the room. When neither of us could stand it anymore, I was going to ride him like a prized stallion. It was going to be good. And afterwards, we could both chalk it up to the alcohol and ambiance. Then we could put it behind us. Sounds like a pretty good plan, right?
Why are you looking at me like that? I needed it. You act like you’ve never been in that position before. Heart broken, wanting desperately to break a bond that was forged by some loser. What better way to do that than by making love to my best friend?
Lalah was singing Forever, For Always, For Love. I adore her rendition of that song. Her voice is so silky and thick that it just wraps around you like a blanket. Trap was under that blanket with me. I was standing in front of him. He had his arms around me. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and he kissed me on the cheek. I chuckled at this because I had the brother right where I wanted him. I know this for a fact because I could feel his excitement on my backside. Humph! He was talking about a Charley horse. I’ve got his Charley horse. The way I came out of that bathroom wearing that dress, and the way I strutted in front of him in the hallway, I knew exactly why Trap was walking funny. It was a compliment…and it was confirmation that I would have him.
So he had another Charley horse on the dance floor. I swirled my bottom to the rhythm; the more I swayed, the more excited he became. And me? I was about to melt, thinking about how it would be. How it would feel. But I never allowed myself to think about after. I would deal with after the next morning.
~ About the Author ~
[image error]
James Fant is an award winning author who lives in Charleston, SC with his lovely wife and two hilarious children. When he’s not reading everything from business management to mysteries or “entertaining” his family with piano solos and spoken word, James writes inspirational romance and suspense that warms the heart and hopefully makes readers laugh—in public.
Stalk the author!
Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Blog ~ Pinterest ~ Goodreads
~ Giveaway ~
eBook copy of the novel Coed
April 2, 2017
Spring Into Cash $250 Giveaway
[image error]
Spring is here!! To celebrate an awesome group of bloggers, authors and publishers has joined with me to bring you one fabulous prize!!
Enter for your chance to win $250 in Paypal Cash or a $250 Amazon.com gift code!!
Thanks to these sponsors for helping make this giveaway possible.
Enter here!
Sponsor List
I Am A Reader
Kim Cresswell -Author of Suspense and Thrillers
S.T. Bende
Laurie Here – Cont Fiction and MORE
Kimber Leigh Wheaton
Krysten Lindsay Hager author
Lori’s Reading Corner
Helen Smith
Heather Gray, Author
Happily Ever Chapter
Caroline Clemmons
Jamie Brook Thompson, Author of Clean Romance
Glistering: B’s Blog
Author Deb Atwood
Sweet & Sassy Books
Author Laurie Treacy
Author Ednah Walters
Pauline Creeden, Author
Author Ali Winters
D.S. Venetta
Aubrey Wynne: Timeless Love
Geybie’s Book Blog
D.E. Haggerty, author
B. Kristin McMichael
Dawn Malone, Author
Inger Iversen
April 1, 2017
It never felt so good to be bad! Dark Angel from @AmandaLJ1981 #bewitchingbooktours
[image error]
Dark Angel
The Fallen Chronicles
Book 1
Amanda Jones
Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy Romance
Publisher: New Concepts Publishing
Date of Publication: March 29, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-60394-970-5
Number of pages: 141
Word Count: 81,321
Cover Artist: Jenny Dixon
Description
Katia may be a celebrated musician, but she’d always felt a little like an outsider looking in. Who knew that being abducted by a handsome stranger would set her on a crash course with her destiny…
Luc has spent an eternity keeping everyone and everything at a distance as an unstoppable darkness consumes his soul. Will his beautiful captive be his salvation, or will they both be consumed by the ultimate evil…
Grab a copy!
New Concepts Publishing Amazon
With this fallen angel it never felt so good to be bad!
About the Author
[image error]
Amanda Jones lives in Toronto with her exceptionally spoiled pets. Aside from sharing her crazy imagination with others through her books Amanda enjoys travelling and frequent Netflix binges. Amanda has worked in several fields including sports, music, film, corporate human resources, and is a graduate of York University and Sheridan College.
Stalk the author!
Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon
[image error]
March 30, 2017
Read an excerpt of The Lighthouse Keeper from @CynEllingsen #WomensFiction #Giveaway @BookEnthusiast1
[image error]
Book Title: The Lighthouse Keeper
Author: Cynthia Ellingsen
Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction
Release Date: April 4, 2017
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
#TheLighthouseKeeper #BlogTour #CynthiaEllingsen #Contemporary #WomensFiction @CynEllingsen
#Synopsis:
Dawn Conners’s parents are famous for finding historic treasures, but she has a knack for losing things—her job, her boyfriend, and now, her reputation. Thanks to a mud-slinging exposé, Dawn’s late great-grandfather is assumed guilty of stealing silver from a century-old shipwreck. Hoping to clear his name, Dawn returns to Starlight Cove, her idyllic hometown on Lake Michigan, where the doomed vessel sleeps beneath the beam of a ramshackle lighthouse.
Her plan: remodel and sell the lighthouse while untangling the perplexing family mystery. Neither task is easy, especially once her well-meaning parents and the quirky locals—including nautical researcher and Starlight Cove’s most eligible bachelor, Kip Whittaker—get involved. Despite their attraction, Dawn is reluctant to trust Kip, or any of the close-knit townsfolk. But as she pieces together the truth, Dawn’s once-shuttered heart opens up. And if she’s willing, the lighthouse might guide her to a place she never expected to find, where the past entwines with a bright new beginning.
#BuyNow
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Add to Goodreads
#Giveaway
Enter here ➜ ➜ http://bit.ly/2nqqygL
#MeettheAuthor
Cynthia Ellingsen lives in Lexington, Kentucky, with her husband and is the author of two previous novels: The Whole Package and Marriage Matters. She loves connecting with readers through her website, Facebook, and Twitter. Visit her at www.cynthiaellingsen.com.
#StalktheAuthor
Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads
#Excerpt
“Dawn Conners?” a voice called.
I snapped out of my reverie and stared.
A gorgeous guy in his midthirties dragged a rickety rowboat through the water. His dark hair was windblown, cheeks rough with stubble, and his navy T-shirt clung to a strong upper body. He flashed me a smile I felt all the way down to my toes.
“Are you Dawn?” he called.
“Yes,” I said, smoothing my hair.
Who on earth was he?
I watched as he tossed a bowline knot over a metal pole and cinched it with a firm tug. The rope went taut, along with his upper arms. Then he jogged across the sand and came to a halt next to the boardwalk.
Midnight-blue eyes surveyed my fitted linen dress, bare legs, and low pumps. In a voice much too husky for polite conversation, he said, “You always wear high heels to the beach?”
I flushed.
Even though Libby liked to say that my fitted dresses and pinned-up hair made me look like a candidate for public office, I didn’t expect to hear it from a stranger.
“Depends on the day,” I shot back. “Do you always look like you just rolled out of bed?”
He grinned. “You’re already thinking about me in bed?”
“I have an appointment with Kipling Whittaker,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to—”
“You can call me Kip.”
Arrgh. I couldn’t believe this.
The fact that my mother had led me to believe that this guy was a gentleman of a certain age meant she was up to one thing: matchmaking. In her mind, I came to Starlight Cove for a fun, relaxing summer vacation. That assessment could not be further from the truth. The last thing I wanted to do was waste time flirting with some rumple-haired playboy.
Especially one named Kip.
