D.E. Haggerty's Blog, page 61

Who or Whom? Which one is right? Do we care? #WriterWednesday

All of a sudden, the word ‘whom’ is popping up everywhere. I didn’t even know a word could be popular! Obviously, I was wrong. Unfortunately, the word ‘whom’ is not always popping up where it should be. It is, in fact, a little too popular. A bunch of writers appear to have taken their 10th grade English class lessons (Hi, Mrs. Southworth!) and went a bit whom-crazy. I don’t need to tell anyone that there’s a big difference between the grammar of a book report and the grammar of an actual book. Let’s have a looksie at the rules:

The simple rule is this:

Use who in the subject position in a sentence.

Use whom in the object position and after a preposition.

That sounds painless, but what the heck is the object position and what does ‘after a preposition’ mean? The easiest way to figure out when a pronoun is the object of a verb or a preposition (and thus use of whom is correct) is to substitute who with she or her. If she fits, use who. If her works, use whom. You’ll have to rearrange the sentence a bit to use this substitution test.

For example:

Who/whom should I talk to about proper grammar?

Substituting she or her looks like this:

I should talk to she. I should talk to her.

Obviously, her fits meaning that whom should be used in this question.

Whom should I talk to about proper grammar?

That’s the simple answer. I could go on and on with examples and prepositions. Then, there’s the whole discussion of whether a preposition should be allowed to dangle or not. Sorry. I got a bit carried away there. The above is the nitty, gritty of what you need to know.

The above is pretty much all the standard stuff you’ve seen – and probably forgotten – before. How then does the use of whom differ in writing? The most obvious deviation from the usual grammar rules is dialect. Although I’ve met a fair number of people who use whom in conversation, the vast majority of native English speakers do not. It sounds way too formal for most of us. What about your character? Is (s)he a stickler for grammar? Would he use the world whom when talking about, for example, motorcycles? Think about your character before exhausting yourself trying to figure out if it’s who or whom that proper grammar dictates.

I often write in first person. It’s a struggle to decide when to use proper grammar with a person’s inner monologue. With some characters, it’s easy. Callie, the heroine in Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker, was a total and complete nerd. Obviously, her character used proper grammar all the time. No dangling prepositions here – thank you very much!

What about other characters? If you are an English teacher or grammar Nazi, please read no further! For the rest of us, here’s my advice – when in doubt use who and not whom. Why? After explaining all the rules, why on earth am I basically telling you to ignore them? A couple of reasons. First of all, if an English teacher or grammar Nazi is reading your work and you get it wrong, they will not be impressed and will most definitely let you know – usually in a review that everyone can see. Also, most readers won’t know what the rules are, but they’ll often instinctively feel for when grammar is incorrect. This causes a stutter in their reading and the last thing we writers want is someone to stop reading because something feels wrong.

 

 

Happy Release Day! Read an excerpt of Hungry as a Wolf by Alama Black #paranormalromance

Book Title: Hungry as a Wolf

Author: Alma Black

Genre: Shifter Paranormal

Release Date: December 7, 2016

Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

What happens when two shifters meet? They’re ravenous for love.

 

Luke knows how to get what he wants. A lone wolf at heart, he has no problem filling his bed with willing partners. But love? It’s not in the cards. But when he matches with his best friend’s little sister on the dating app, Shifter, everything changes. Jasmine is a fiery lioness and totally off limits–but that makes her all the more alluring.

 

Jasmine has had a crush on Luke as long as she can remember. He’s sexy, powerful, and alpha. But as his best friend’s little sister, Jasmine knows she doesn’t stand a chance.

 

When Luke swipes right on her Shifter profile, Jasmine is shocked. Could this be the start of something more?

 

But Power Shift is out for blood. They hate any interspecies dating, and will stop at nothing to keep the shifter lines pure. When they attack, can Jasmine and Luke protect each other? Can their newfound love survive?

 

Warning: this book contains crazy chemistry, lots of sex, and a little violence to keep things spicy. If those things don’t appeal to you, this book is not for you!

“You’re using a matchmaking app?” Rachel was flabbergasted. “You don’t need that.”

“It’s Max’s invention. It’s pretty popular, Rach.”

“Luke is using a matchmaking app? That’s surprising,” Rachel frowned. She opened her mouth to continue but stopped as the waitress came up and delivered her drink. They both gave their lunch order and Jasmine let out her breath in a huff when they were finally left alone.

“That felt like ages,” Jasmine commented.

“So Luke is looking for a mate?” Rachel asked, lifting up her drink and taking a sip. “Are you okay with that?” She looked at Jasmine with concern.

This time, Jasmine couldn’t hold back her reaction. She rolled her eyes.

“Listen very carefully, Rachel. He. Liked. My. Profile,” Jasmine annunciated each word precisely. “We m-a-t-c-h-e-d.” Jasmine spread her hands out, her own eyebrows rising with a do-you-understand-now expression.

“Wait, what?” Jasmine couldn’t believe her best friend could be so dense. “Are you kidding me?” Finally, Jasmine thought. Lightbulb.

“Yes! I know, I know. I can’t believe it myself. But look,” She pushed her phone across the table, her and Luke’s profile pictures side by side, a heart surrounding them with big green lettering stating ‘MATCHED’ at the top of the screen.

Rachel’s eyes widened and Jasmine nodded, still barely believing it herself. Realization and excitement dawned on Rachel’s face and she gasped. Jasmine nodded again, seemingly unable to do anything more. It was real. Proof Jasmine wasn’t dreaming written all over Rachel’s face.

“Holy shit, Jaz,” Rachel looked up, a huge smile on her face. “What are you going to do?”

“I believe you meant who am I going to do.” Jasmine grinned. Rachel laughed.

She couldn’t help the first thought that popped into her head was her and Luke, naked in bed doing the dirty. He’d been every single one of her secret fantasies. She had a lifetime of ideas stored inside her, ready to explore.

Yet, Rachel’s statement continued to echo in her mind, pushing aside delicious thoughts of licking Luke from top to bottom. Rachel was right, what was she going to do?

“Jaz?” Rachel’s expression turned concerned.

Holy crap, Jasmine thought. What could she do? This undeniable attraction she’d had for Luke for years had been a dream. Wishful thinking.

But now? Now there was a real possibility Luke and her could become something more than friends. That something she’d secretly yearned for in the dark, not truly voicing aloud, could actually come true.

Alma Black loves to write, and write and write. She is especially fond of sexy, paranormal stories where the hero has a penchant for growling and the sassy heroine doesn’t put up with any bark. These stories are fast reads and are funny, sexy, and very naughty.

Alma lives in Los Angeles, and wishes with all her heart that there was paranormal dating app that had eligible mates in Southern California. Until then she uses regular dating sites to bring you these stories, inspired by her actual dating life.

 

OFFed Stage Left by @joannelessner #cozymystery

Offed Stage Left (Isobel Spice Mysteries)

(Volume 4)

Paperback: 260 pages

Publisher: Dulcet Press (October 27, 2016)

ISBN-13: 978-0998133201

E-Book ASIN: B01M3R8OD6

There’s one role you don’t want a callback for: Prime Suspect. Aspiring actress Isobel Spice lands her first regional theater job, playing a supporting role and understudying the lead in Sousacal: The Life and Times of John Philip Sousa. A series of minor backstage accidents culminates in the suspicious death of the leading lady on opening night. When Isobel takes over the role, her mastery of the material makes her more suspect than savior, and she realizes the only way to clear her name is to discover the identity of the murderer—before he or she strikes again.

Purchase Links

Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Kobo ~ Smashwords

 

 About The Author

Writer, singer, and actor Joanne Sydney Lessner draws on her own experiences pursuing a performing career in New York City for her acclaimed Isobel Spice Mysteries: THE TEMPORARY DETECTIVE, BAD PUBLICITY, AND JUSTICE FOR SOME, and OFFED STAGE LEFT. With humor and a bit of romance, Isobel juggles auditions and temp jobs, solving murders along the way, while Joanne’s inside knowledge provides a window into the realities of breaking into show business (as well as a forum to share every humiliating audition experience she and her friends ever had.) Joanne’s debut novel, PANDORA’S BOTTLE, was inspired by the true story of the world’s most expensive bottle of wine and was named one of the top five books of 2010 by Paperback Dolls. With her husband, composer/conductor Joshua Rosenblum, she has co-authored several musicals, including the cult hit FERMAT’S LAST TANGO and EINSTEIN’S DREAMS, based on the celebrated novel by Alan Lightman. Her play, CRITICAL MASS, received its Off Broadway premiere in October 2010. Joanne is also a regular contributor to OPERA NEWS and a graduate of Yale University.

Author Links

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon Author Page

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Read an excerpt of Hard to Regret by @Krispiewrites #contemporaryromance #giveaway

Sexy Contemporary Romance

Date Published: November 4, 2016

 ~ Synopsis ~

Heiress Anna Wynn is hiding a secret – a secret that has blighted half her life and forced her to become an unfulfilled over-achiever. Even preparing for her wealthy family’s summer break in their idyllic New Zealand holiday house, Anna has to be all business and is strung tight as piano wire. Finding her bedroom appropriated by an over-muscled, overbearing, testosterone-soaked tower of annoyance is the final straw.

Dragged up under the callused thumb of his dirt-poor father, Jason Jones regrets his choice of security over his dream. His ambition to work as a freelance photographer has been ruthlessly suppressed in favor of setting up his own construction company. He has a pre-Christmas deadline looming on the current project, and the last thing he needs is constant surveillance by the owner’s sharp-tongued daughter – or the lure of her hot body and big blue eyes.

Forced to endure each other’s company in the small-town beach house, mutual frustration and undeniable chemistry pull Anna and Jason together for a few stolen days. Enemies become lovers – but how long before secrets are revealed that will change everything?

HARD TO REGRET is the first in Kris Pearson’s new Scarlet Bay series of sexy, funny and heart-warming romance novels and is intended for mature readers.

Grab a copy!

Amazon ~ Smashwords ~ iBooks ~ Kobo ~ Barnes & Noble

 ~ Excerpt ~

CHAPTER 1 – SAUSAGE ON A FORK

“I’ll do it,” Annaliese Wynn said, heaving her travel bag from the back of the taxi to save the overweight driver waddling out. Finally she’d be swapping her stilettos for summer sandals and solitude, and hopefully winding down from the everlasting treadmill of her life. 

As she listened to the waves crashing on the shore of Scarlet Bay, she drew a deep satisfied breath and discovered the delicious aroma of grilling meat wafting on the warm breeze. She glanced at her watch. Someone was barbecuing. At ten-fifteen? She inhaled again. Her tummy gave an unladylike gurgle. The barbecue smelled amazing after her hasty early breakfast of a fresh pear. 

Sighing, Anna clicked the bag handle up into place and rolled the case over the cracked concrete path to the old shorefront cottage. This would be her last holiday here before it was demolished to make way for a new, much larger dwelling for her extended family to share. She unlocked the front door and stepped back into her childhood. Faded Indian cotton curtains, Great-aunt Emily’s fussy watercolours (also fading) and… the back door at the end of the hallway swinging wide open!

She stood stock-still, like a cat transfixed by a bird that had just landed unwisely close. Loud masculine laughter billowed in and echoed around the high-ceilinged space.

“Shit, no…” someone said.

“Totally crappy luck,” another man agreed.

“And probably a spoiled little bitch,” a deeper voice added.

Anna released her bag, set down her laptop, and crept the length of the old house on tiptoe, trying to stop her high heels from echoing on the varnished hardwood floor. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, bursting through the doorway.

Four pairs of eyes swivelled in her direction. Three men stuffed meat into their mouths and chewed.

“Ms Wynn?” the deeper voice asked. The attached male raised a can of cola and took a leisurely swig. Dark eyes locked with hers over the shining can, and she watched his tanned throat constrict as he swallowed. He lowered the drink and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Anna Wynn. Why are you all here?”

Plainly they were the crew from the almost finished house through the hedge. Why weren’t they there instead? And how had they opened the door?

Three sets of teeth continued to chomp. Three pairs of eyes shifted away. The other man set the cola can down with no haste, and stood. 

Up and up. 

Anna had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact.

He thrust out a large hand as though he expected her to shake it. “Jason Jones,” he said. 

He blocked out the light, stole her breath, irritated her far beyond anything that was reasonable.

“We’re having breakfast,” he added in that gritty velvet voice that had queried her name with unmistakeable amusement.

She inspected his fingers for cleanliness before extending her own. His boots were caked with mud, his long, powerful legs were smeared with dust, his khaki shorts had the zipper at half-mast, and there was sawdust all over his garish orange visibility vest. She tried not to ogle his arms and shoulders.

“Breakfast?” She found her fingers enclosed in firm warmth and then held captive. 

“Or brunch, if you want to be fancy.” A faint grin teased the corners of his mouth.

Suddenly Anna’s choice of high heels and tailored black silk crepe pants felt ridiculous. Why hadn’t she worn jeans?

She tried to retrieve her hand and he tightened his grip, allowing her no escape. 

“We’re on the job by seven in weather like this, and we work hard. We’re ready for more than a sandwich by now. You want a sausage?” Without waiting for a reply he reached sideways with his other hand, speared one from the barbecue on a bent and tarnished fork, and passed it to her.

Of course she didn’t. Nothing was further from her mind. A sausage with a gang of rough builders who had no business intruding into the house? From this over-muscled, overbearing, testosterone-soaked tower of annoyance?

 Her traitorous stomach chose that moment to give another loud gurgle, and she gave in to the inevitable, trying to accept the fork without touching him any further. She took a cautious nibble and closed her eyes. She possibly moaned. God, it was good!

“Ketchup with that?” the velvet voice asked, stroking every one of Anna’s nerve endings exactly the wrong way. 

Snorts of amusement exploded from the other men and he threw a sharp, “Shut it,” in their direction. She opened her mouth wider and took a more ravenous bite.

“Go for it…” the youngest man encouraged.

“Shut it, Hoolie,” Jason Jones repeated.  He turned to Anna. “Doesn’t take much to amuse someone with no brain.”

Anna glared at them all. The youngest one grinned from ear to ear, the other two tried to stifle their laughter, and even Jason Jones had the faintest twitch at one end of his surprisingly gorgeous mouth. No prizes for guessing what they were imagining.

She managed to swallow the mouthful without choking, took a step backward in case it made him look less impressive, and pinned him with her best ‘you’re-an-insect-beneath-my-notice’ gaze. “And I’ll ask you again; what exactly are you doing here? This is my family’s home. I’m staying to do some work for a few days, and I’m not expecting, or wanting, company.”

Jason Jones folded his tall frame down onto a battered white plastic chair and glanced toward the open back porch of the old house. “I arranged with your uncle for us to use the… facilities… there.  But some big rocks slid down the hill and bashed the wall in a couple of days ago.”

“No more facilities,” young Hoolie explained helpfully. “No bog, broken basin, only half a shower.”

Anna flicked her gaze into the damaged porch, bared her teeth, and took another bite of sausage – a really savage one – while looking Hoolie in the eye. Her action had the intended effect, and she had the great satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

She tried to suppress a smirk as she chewed and swallowed. “You’ll have to get a Porta-loo then. I don’t want you in the house. How did you get the door open?”

A big hand rummaged in the pocket of the khaki shorts. Anna glimpsed lime green undies through the gaping fly. Lime green? Did the man have no class?

He pulled out a key on a twist of string. James’s key. The little white lighthouse on the end of the string was a souvenir she’d given him on a long-ago holiday. 

He swung it to and fro. “Your uncle gave me this in case I wanted to stay over. There have been burglaries from the other house. Boxes of tiles, appliances – and I don’t need any here at mine.”

Why don’t they lock things up more securely? 

“So you’re the foreman?”

“Project manager.”

This brought a ‘yeah, right’ from Hoolie, and a tightening of Jason Jones’ features. He glared at the offender and said, “Hoolie’s not worth meeting until he grows up a bit, but the rest of my men are.” He waved an arm in their direction, and the sun glinted on gilded skin and bulging muscle. “Brett Lambourne and Eric Hansen.”

“Pleased to meetcha,” the younger Brett said. 

“Yeah, gidday,” balding Eric added, wiping his lips with a crumpled handkerchief and stuffing it back into the pocket of his shorts.

“But…” Anna said. This was absolutely not what she wanted. She shook her head. “I don’t want to share my bathroom with a crowd of men.”

Jason leaned back in the chair and drew a deep breath. Anna found it hard not to stare as his chest expanded, and saw from the set of his jaw that he was making quite an effort to stay polite. 

“There are only four of us,” he said in a tone suitable for explaining quantum physics to young children. “And I’ve been telling them to take their boots off. But okay, I’ll order a Porta-loo. I can’t guarantee they’ll have it here before Monday though. Not with the big surf carnival over the weekend.”

“Every bog’ll be busy,” Hoolie contributed.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Annaliese snapped. She took the last bite of sausage and wondered what to do with the fork. A big hand on the end of a long arm closed around it and she let go in a hurry. “Thank you,” she added, a few seconds too late, turning and flouncing back into the house.

“Yep – spoiled little bitch”, she heard Jason say just before the door swung closed. So it was her he’d been talking about as she arrived? He’d already known she’d be staying? She nearly whirled around and gave him another earful, but what would that achieve? It wouldn’t do to make an enemy of the builder. Keeping out of each other’s way would surely be the wisest course. 

She inspected the bathroom as she returned down the hallway. Men! Four empty toilet roll inners sat along the windowsill… the tap wasn’t properly turned off… and very dirty handprints decorated the pale blue towel. 

Oh well, at least they washed their hands to some degree, and from the lack of mud on the floor they were indeed kicking their filthy boots off before they came inside. 

She tried to be pleased about that as she collected her bag and pulled it into the front bedroom – the one with the best and biggest bed. 

Someone had been sleeping in it. The cover had been tossed back and the pillow held the unmistakable indentation of a head. A half empty water bottle and an electric shaver sat on the chest beside it.

Jason Jones’ firm, clean-shaven jaw came immediately to mind, and for some reason his gorgeous mouth, and she just knew it would be him. Turning on her heel she clattered back along the hallway and flung the door open again.

“Who’s been sleeping in my bed?” she demanded.

“Big bad bear?” Hoolie suggested.

Brett Lambourne grinned. “Don’t you know your fairy stories, boy? Big bad wolf.” 

Eric Hansen threw back his head and managed a passable howl. 

“Hell,” Jason muttered. “It was the longest bed.”

“Well, will you move please? It sounded like you knew the ‘spoiled little bitch’ was coming to stay.”

Jason drew another of those devastating, chest-expanding breaths. “Your hearing’s a bit too good, eh? Sorry about that.” He set his can of cola aside and stood. Anna was almost willing to believe he was blushing under his tan.

“Move your stuff out at the end of the day,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to stop you working.” This time she slammed the door behind her so she wouldn’t hear any more smart comments.

~ About the Author ~

New Zealander Kris Pearson was born to write – at twelve she completed her autobiography – an easy subject which required no research. It filled a whole school exercise book! 

Her first proper job was as a radio copywriter. After living in Italy and London she returned to the capital city of Wellington and worked in TV, radio again, several advertising agencies, and then spent many happy years as a retail ad manager. Totally hooked on fabrics, she followed this by going into business with her husband as a curtain installer. It was finally time to write fiction. In sixteen years she hasn’t fallen off her ladder once through drifting off into romantic dreams.

She writes sizzling contemporary romance, pure and simple. Well, maybe not that pure! They’re sexy stories about modern couples who fall in love and into bed along the way, just like real people do. She’s the author of fourteen novels, three of which were finalists in New Zealand’s Clendon Award. Four have been translated into Spanish.

The most widely distributed is ‘The Boat Builder’s Bed’. She gave away more than two million ebook copies of this to kick-start sales of all her others. Did it work? Beyond her wildest dreams. See them all on her website – http://www.krispearson.com

Contact Links

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon Author Page

 

~ Giveaway ~

3 ebook copies of Hard to Regret

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

5 Things the Non-Dutch Should NOT do #MondayBlogs #Sinterklaas #expatliving #Dutchness

Today is pakjesavond in the Netherlands. What in the heck is pakjesavond? It’s traditionally the day Dutch kids get presents from Sinterklaas – with a whole bunch of help from Zwarte Piet. In honor of this tradition, I’m giving some free advice to the expats living in the Netherlands. Here are some activities that those of us who were not born and raised in the lowlands should avoid.

Carry groceries on handlebars. The Dutch can carry anything on their bikes. I’ve seen men happily biking past my house with an empty crate of beer between their legs and a full one on the back. It’s a time-honored to tradition to throw bags of groceries, clothes, whatever, onto the handlebars and merrily bike on. Do not do this if you are not born with orange in your blood. A colleague of mine tried this and ended up at the emergency room. Seriously.

 

Ride on the carrier. In addition to using bikes to transport beer and groceries, the Dutch transport people on their bikes – and I’m not talking about those silly bike taxis. Nope, the locals will hop onto the carrier (I had to actually look that word up) on the back wheel and off they go. Don’t do this. You see, there are these things called paaltjes (otherwise known as knee-killers). They are everywhere. The Dutch seem to have an inborn radar and manage to avoid them if they’re sitting on the back of the bike. Those of us not born in the lowlands manage to hit every one of the darn things.

 

Eat drop. Drop is licorice and I like licorice. And I even like black licorice. According to my husband, if it isn’t black, it’s not licorice. Anyway. One thing I don’t like is salt added to my sweet. There are two kinds of Dutch licorice – zoet or zout. Seriously, could you make the words any freaking closer? One of them – zoet – is awesome deliciousness. The other will make you wish your mom was around to wash your mouth out with soap.

 

Walk stairs handsfree. You probably know that Dutch are just as famous for their steep stairs as they are for tulips. But did you know they actually walk up and down them like it’s a totally normal thing to do? Seriously! In high heels, while drunk, whenever… it just doesn’t matter. They walk those stairs like they OWN them. I do not recommend attempting this. Go ahead and grab that handrail before you fall on your face with your skirt around your waist. True story. So what if the handrail is dusty as no one else even knows it’s there?

 

 

Eat like the Dutch. It’s perfectly okay (and totally satisfying) to eat like the Dutch. They love fried snacks with their beer (bitterballen, anyone?). And then there’s all the cheese. Mmmmm… yummy! Did I forget to mention all the sweets? The problem is eating like the Dutch and trying to look like one – a tall, skinny blonde. I’m 0 for 3 myself.

Happy Sinterklaas everyone!

 

Release Blitz ~ Still Air by @freya_barker #contemporaryromance

Still Air by Freya Barker

Contemporary Romance

Date Published:  December 5, 2016

Portland, ME, novels Book 4

 Deprival haunted her…

Regret troubled her…

Silence left her detached…

A life in the service of others is both penance and a blessing. She soothes her personal hell by pulling victims from theirs, helping them on their path to survival; never finding her own 

When a crippling blow finally evaporates her last hope, the temptation to give up is strong. Still, she can’t find it in her to turn her back on those who need her: the innocent, whose rescue is her perpetual goal.

He was blind, but now he sees how his family has sifted through his fingers. The reality hits hard when his son becomes a stranger, slipping deeper into transgression. Concern has him call on the one person he fears will see his own failures all too clearly. A woman he’s kept his distance from for his own protection.

What appeared to be an incompatible pairing, turns out the unyielding bond needed to heal them all.

Portland, ME Series, Novels Book One

August 6, 2015

Pain punished her. 

The bottle numbed her.

Guilt kept her trapped.

In the dark alley of a pub, the words “Please don’t” take hold of her heart and break the silence she seeks. Thinking herself beyond redemption, she tentatively grabs on to the slim thread of hope that unfolds inside of her.

Holding her secrets close, she can’t resist the comforting draw coming from The Skipper. The unconditional friendships it offers, the protective roof it provides, and the spark that its owner ignites in her–melting the frost off her heart, and slowly stripping away her resistance.

His life flows from one crisis to the next. Under the pressure of competition crowding him out of his family’s pub and the need to protect his children from the ruins of a bad marriage, he barely breathes. That is until a mane of strawberry-blonde hair and a set of big, pale blue eyes, shake him up.

He never expected the shadow of a woman he finds on the floor of his washroom to bring him the air―the balance and the light he’s been missing.

Portland, ME, novels Book 2

Published: March 3, 2016

Innocence marked her…

Violation crippled her…

Love left her raw…

The life she carefully rebuilt is challenged when she is confronted with the sins from her past. The carefully applied protection is at once ripped away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

Her single night of indulgence with the silver-eyed stranger is only the beginning. He sees right to the heart of her and she is unable to ward off emotions that have been deeply buried. With the sting of betrayal still fresh in her soul, she’s surprised to find herself opening up to the honest integrity of the sharp-eyed, rough-looking biker.

When he lost everyone who mattered, he was left without roots and learned to be content simply living in the moment. Completely unprepared for the feisty blonde bartender with old pain marring her clear-blue eyes, he questions his own rules of detachment, as she unwittingly finds a way under his skin.

Appearances deceive and when the masks fall away, revealing deep, dark secrets, there is nothing left but to hang onto each other and survive the storm.

Portland, ME, novels Book 3

Published: July 2016

Violence corroded her…

Obedience defiled her…

Fear kept her chained…

Freedom is hard to embrace when she’s never learned to trust. Yet in the span of a second, she grabs a single opportunity and runs toward it. Straight into the sanctuary of a pub at the end of a wharf.

She doesn’t understand the concept of friendship. She’s never felt the connection of a relationship. She’s as innocent as the driven snow and yet tainted with corruption. Still, she finds herself surrounded by people who accept her, without even knowing the first thing about her. But one of them is determined to dig deeper.

He treasures his friends, yet he’s steered clear of committed relationships. He likes his life comfortably predictable and entirely controlled. Until it isn’t. For months he’s avoided interacting with The Skipper’s newest addition. Perhaps realizing that once he looked deeply into those liquid brown eyes, he wouldn’t be able to turn away.

When his present and her past puts them both on the brink of change, they are forged through fire as one.

About the Author

Freya Barker inspires with her stories about ‘real’ people, perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy. She is the author of the Cedar Tree Series and the Portland, ME, novels.

Freya is the recipient of the RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for best first book, “Slim To None,” and is a finalist for the 2016 Kindle Book Awards for “From Dust”. She currently has two complete series and three anthologies published, and is working on two new series; La Plata County FBI—ROCK POINT, and Northern Lights. She continues to spin story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!

Contact Links  

Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Promo Page

 

 

Promo Blitz! Johnson Road Saga from Clayton E. Spriggs #crimethriller

Johnson Road Saga from Clayton E. Spriggs
Murder Mystery, Crime Thriller

Date Published:  November 2016

Save 50% by order this bundle for only $3.99

Johnson Road Saga Two Book Bundle

Johnson Road

Hiding in plain sight, a predator stalks its prey…

Welcome to Peterson County, Alabama, mid-twentieth century Americana; a quaint, rural community on its journey to becoming the suburban utopia promised by the American Dream. By the time the dreamers realize they are trapped inside a nightmare, it’s too late.

Something has gone terribly wrong inside the dream – something evil – something on Johnson Road.

Peterson County Murders

CHASING A SERIAL KILLER From the moment they found the body, the hunt was on. Now that the FBI and US Marshalls were involved,  Sheriff Clifford Gaskin and Deputy Sean Willis were confident it was only a matter of time before they tracked down the murderer and brought justice to the people of Peterson County.

Detective Robert Stallworth wasn’t so sure. This was no ordinary criminal they were searching for. This killer was clever and cruel, but most of all, he was evil. Only hell itself could have produced such a monster, and this demon wasn’t going to stop.  He was having too much fun. Only the detective and the killer knew what this psychopath was capable of and what really happened on Johnson Road.

Purchase Links

Save 50% by order this bundle for only $3.99

Amazon 

About the Author

 

CLAYTON E. SPRIGGS works as a health care professional in Southeast Louisiana. Married with a son and two stepdaughters, he is an active participant in the Bayou Writer’s Club and a dedicated member of the Who Dat Nation (an avid New Orelans Saints fan). Johnson Road was his first novel.

Contact Links

Website ~ Promo Page 

 

Read an #excerpt of Bounty’s Song by @mandycoltonfic #contemporaryromance #giveaway

Bounty’s Song

by Mandy Colton

GENRE: Contemporary Romance

BLURB

Gage Knight is a Texas bounty hunter and just doing a tough job when he’s sent to Nashville to pick up a grifting high-dollar fugitive. He arrives at the right place at almost the right time, but he makes a big mistake when he leaves.

Once a debutante, Danica Chastain is now a struggling songwriter with a dream of landing a job in the music business. On the day when her hard work seems to be heading in the right direction, a gruff man with a dark presence and wolfish eyes arrives at her door.

Although their immediate chemistry is off the charts, the two clash—for good reason. Danica is not who he thinks she is, and he’s not listening…

The book is Free on Kindle and Nook During the Tour

AMAZON

Excerpt

That little bitch had pulled her con off so smoothly, Danica knew just like she knew her rent hadn’t been paid that Tara, if that was even her real name, the money, and her stuff was long gone. She would just wait and call the cops after her appointment at the record company tomorrow. Focus on your meeting with Hank, Danica. If that went well, she’d just find her another roommate, take what was left of her clothes, and leave this dump. She would hold her head up and keep moving forward with her mind on her future and dreams.

* * * *

The next morning, Danica spent much of her time stomping around and grumbling. Her routine was screwed. She’d found the coffee pot gone first and then, after taking her shower, found her blow dryer lifted as well. She’d had to painstakingly brush her hair dry. Then there was the underwear dilemma she’d faced next. She had none. It was all gone, and the only thing she could do was put the bra back on from the day before, which was not going to work for the panties. There had been too much freaking out the night before about bigger issues than to remember to wash them out or even worry about something as minor as going sans the drawers. She’d just have to temporarily go commando and leave early enough to buy herself some undies on the way to her appointment.

She was about ready to leave the apartment when there was a knock on the door. Danica looked out the peephole but didn’t see anyone. Hmm. She shrugged, opened the door to take a step out and look, immediately walking into a wall of man and muscle. Yelping in surprise, she quickly moved her eyes up to his face. Whoa. At first glance, the guy had a dark, daunting presence, almost intimidating as he loomed over her. A closer inspection made another thought cross her mind. What a hunk-o-man! Talk about tall, beefy, and ruggedly handsome. Not exactly swarthy but deeply tanned and a nice amount of past-five-oh-clock shadow framed a nicely chiseled jawline. The whole package made her shiver a little. She could smell the guy, he was so close, and his cologne was a heady alpha male blend of sweat, the non-stinky man-musk kind, and spice. Ooh, and leather. In fear of being zapped by a jolt of supercharged testosterone mixed with potently virile pheromones, she took a step back.

He stood there, intimidating-like, looking down his nose at her, eyeing her, nothing moving except for a pair of odd color eyes. They were mesmerizing. He cleared his throat, which broke her staring spell.

She finally said, “If you’re looking for Tara, she’s gone.” She scanned him again. At least the bitch had a little taste in who she screwed. Couldn’t say the same for the guys.

Suddenly his eyes changed and he looked a bit amused. What a pair of peepers he had on that strikingly handsome and chiseled face. The guy had bright-gray eyes, like a husky dog or a wolf. My goodness, how beautiful they were and framed by lush lashes, those making her a little jealous. Danica was curious if the eye color was real or if he might be wearing contacts. Before she had the chance to ask, he opened his mouth.

“Is that right?”

Wow. The beefcake wasn’t the meathead she was expecting, he could speak. Smooth, sexy voice too. “Yup, bitch is gone. That’s for damn sure.”

He snickered at that. “Mind if I come in?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I have somewhere I gotta be.”

The guy rudely bumped her aside with his broad chest and walked right past, making her gasp because he didn’t have permission and she was pretty sure that brief contact had created a few sparks underneath her chassis. Sparky, like after a bump in the road and your loose muffler intermittently drags the asphalt before scraping your undercarriage again with a zing. Yeah, like that.

Danica put her hands on her hips and cleared her own throat this time. “Excuse me, but I think I just told you that Tara’s not here and I have someplace to go.”

He walked right through the apartment, opened a bedroom door, and turned to grin at her. Then he walked to the other and opened it. “Mmhmm. Bet you do have some place to go, being that you just missed your court date. Again. Skipping for a second time on the same bondsman. He warned you last time. Somebody was gonna be comin’ for your lily-white ass.”

“Why are saying ‘you’? Like I did that? I don’t have a clue what you’re even talking about. I haven’t done anything, and for your information, my white ass is clean. I have never needed a bondsman.”

That made the corners of his mouth quirk upward into a smile. “Nice to know. Let’s see some ID, sweetheart.”

She still had her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at the guy. “What? You think I’m her, don’t you?” Thoroughly insulted by the thought, she continued, “Freaking Jesus H. Believe me, I could never be as bad as that nasty-ass, thieving, nympho skank is.”

Those sexy lips began twitching at that. She couldn’t stop focusing on them. He stuck his hand out, doing a “give it”-type motion with his fingers. “ID, please.”

Aggravated now, she grabbed her bag and snapped, “Fine! Who the hell are you, walking right in and demanding ID? Why are you here?”

“I’m a bond enforcement officer working on behalf of the bondsman in Texas. The law and bond was broken by not showing on the scheduled court date. I’m here to collect Tara Morgan and take her to jail. If you’re not her, then just kindly show me some ID and I’ll go.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mandy Colton is from Louisville, KY, and lives a very quiet life with her husband and teenage son. A fan of romance, fun adventure, drama, humor, and on occasion, sci-fi stories. Her first book, Way to Go, and the continuing series came from her years, own adventures and experiences working in the travel industry.

Although she’s a great fan of the human imagination, she is also of the opinion that there are just no better stories than those that involve a bit of true life.

If you like my books, please review on Amazon or Goodreads. Subscribe for notifications on future new releases!

Website ~ Cavalcade Press ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Goodreads ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Pinterest

GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

#Bookreview & Excerpt of Nico from @sarah_castille #romanticsuspense

Title: Nico

Author: Sarah Castille

Published: December 6, 2016

Genre: Romantic Suspense

~ Synopsis ~

New York Times bestselling author Sarah Castille is back with NICO (St. Martin’s Paperbacks, $7.99, December 6, 2016), the first book in her Ruin & Revenge series. With reminiscences of Romeo and Juliet, Castille presents a modern twist and a powerful bad boy spin on the classic tale. RT Book Reviews raves about Castille’s BEYOND THE CUT saying, “Castille continues to raise the stakes… giving readers the compelling romance they crave,” and that continues brilliantly in this new series.

In NICO, Las Vegas Mafia boss Nico Toscani is used to getting what he wants, whether it’s having the City of Sin under his rule or a beautiful woman in his bed. But when he meets his match in the gorgeous, headstrong Mia Cordano, daughter of a rival crime lord, all bets are off…

Sexy computer hacker Mia struggles to break free of her ruthless father’s Mafia ties…but she can’t resist the powerful and seductive Nico, who will stop at nothing to possess her. With their families locked in a brutal war for control of the city, Mia and Nico enter into a forbidden game.

Will they surrender to the passion that burns between them—and risk tearing apart their families? Or will Nico be forced to betray the only woman who sets his blood on fire?

Grab a copy now!

 Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble

~ My Review~

I have a girl crush on Sarah Castille or at least on her hot alpha characters! Naturally, I grabbed the chance to read another of her books. Nico does not disappoint. Do I need to even mention that it’s well-written and properly edited? Of course not!

I love me some geek and Mia fills that roll well. She’s strong, smart and just a bit stubborn. Everything I love in a good heroine. Nico is hot and just a bit damaged. Being a bastard child will do that to a man connected to the mob. Put two headstrong personalities together and what do you get? Explosive chemistry!

The story was in-depth with twists and turns that kept me flipping through the pages. This is not just another romance story. It’s not even just another bad guy mafia story. There’s a back story, good character development and a plethora of secondary characters. Even the dialogue was surprisingly funny.

I recommend this novel to romance lovers that are tired of the same old, same old. You won’t be disappointed.

~ Excerpt ~

“Is this everything?” Tony thumbed through the envelope. “This is half of what you brought us last month.” He shared a glance with Charlie Nails and smirked. “I thought you fancied yourself an old- style mobster. In the old days, the casinos were a license to print money. This is hardly enough to pay our staff.”

Nico steeled himself to show an outer calm as he raged inside. “That’s just the casino money.” He reached into the pocket of his double- breasted suit jacket, and pulled out a second envelope. “This is from the other businesses and the pay up from my crew.”

Santo’s eyes narrowed when Nico tossed the second envelope on the table. Although not a clever man, like Nico’s father had been, Santo had a sixth sense for when he was being ripped off. “Is that everything?”

No, of course it wasn’t everything. Despite the risk, Nico had several businesses on the side, including a nice little condo racket in which the main condo developers in the city exclusively hired interior designers controlled by Nico’s associates, giving Nico a share of every condo development. His connection with the steelworkers’ union had also given him a line into the rapidly developing construction of new casinos from a wave of foreign billionaires looking for a place to park their money.

Unlike his uncle, who had taken the family into the drug trade against Cosa Nostra rules, Nico was all about real estate. The online scams and Internet fraud that many of his associates claimed were the new wave of business were of no interest to him, nor were any rackets where he had to enforce his will through vio lence. Although he would mete out punishment if it was due, attracting the attention of the police and FBI was not the way he wanted to do business. Nico liked to talk to the people he did business with, he liked to make connections, and his casino was the perfect place to wine and dine potential partners before comping them a few evenings in the high- stakes room, and taking even more of their money.

“That’s it.” Nico moved to leave and Santo held up a hand.

“Since you’re here and you are family, I want you to be the first to know. Tony’s getting married.”

Tony Crackers married? What kind of woman would agree to marry a man with a reputation for brutal violence?

“Congratulations, cugino.” He shook his Tony’s hand. “Who’s the lucky woman?”

“Mia Cordano.” Tony gave him a sly smile. “I heard you were with her the other night. I didn’t know you were so close to the Toscanis.”

Nico understood the implied threat, but he didn’t address it because he was still trying to process the information. Political marriages were very common in the upper level of the Mafi a, but usually the women involved in the arranged marriages were of a type— docile, submissive, fully indoctrinated in the Cosa Nostra culture, and willing to help the family through an alliance that would benefit both sides. He couldn’t see an assertive, intelligent, sophisticated businesswoman like Mia Cordano marrying a violent, uneducated criminal like Tony Crackers unless she was forced to do it— and although some women were pressured by the families into marriages, how did one force a woman who so expertly wielded a knife?

“Vito hired her to do cyber- security work for the casino.”

Santo sucked on his cigar, blew a ring of smoke. “You should keep better track of what your employees are doing, especially when we are involved in a faida with her family of your making.”

“You don’t support the faida?” Nico scowled. “What man of honor would not want to avenge his brother after he was shot in the back by a coward who didn’t even have permission from the New York bosses for the hit?”

“Don’t disrespect your uncle,” Charlie Nails warned. “He has his reasons for doing what he does and they are not your concern.”

Nico shot him a scathing look. Aside from some minor gambling and loan sharking, Charlie Nails, a lawyer, ran a legitimate law firm and helped the family out with legal issues as well as liaising with important “bought” figures such as politicians or judges. He had been a trusted and close friend of Nico’s father, but Nico had no tolerance for a man who would sell his loyalty to the highest bidder.

Santo raised a hand to silence Charlie Nails. “He should know that his actions have led to this marriage. Don Cordano has eyes on his daughter. When he found out she had been seen with you, Nico, he called me with concerns about her safety. He accused us of disregarding the rules regarding the sanctity of women and children in the faida.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. She was there for business. Her safety was never in question.”

Santo waved a dismissive hand. “Both sides have lost many soldiers in this senseless war. Don Cordano fears for the life of his son, Dante, as I fear for the life of my Tony. We shared our concerns and discussed a truce. As a show of good faith, he offered one of his daughters in marriage to the Toscani family. It was not an opportunity I was prepared to pass up. The Cordanos have a solid foothold in the drug trade. Marriage will bring us together. Don Cordano thinks to gain strength through the union, but Dante is weak, not worthy to lead. Once Dante and the don are out of the way, Tony will have a claim to lead by marriage and he will take over as boss. Together, he and I will push aside the other Cosa Nostra families and take control of the city.”

Nico pulled his pen from his pocket and spun it around his thumb as he struggled to hide his anger. His father had intended to pass the pen down to Nico when he became a made man, just as his father had done for him.

But he hadn’t lived to see the day. Nico had only started carrying the pen after he was made, and he intended to pass it on to his son.

“My father has not yet been avenged,” he spat out. “And what of all the soldiers and capos who will lose their lives? You dragged this family into the drug trade against Cosa Nostra rules. Everything my father tried to do for the family, you have undone. But this . . . betrayal of the other Cosa Nostra families, a full- out war for control of the city . . . How many will be left standing at the end?”

Charlie Nails, quiet until that moment, ran a hand through his silvery hair. “I have to agree, Santo. Not just because of Nico’s father, Maximo, but because our involvement with the drug trade has already brought us to the attention of the FBI. When Maximo was boss, we were able to fly under the radar. If we expand our drug operation, and the bodies start to pile up, they are going to come down hard on us. Even if our men don’t get whacked in the civil war you propose, they’ll wind up in jail.”

“Cazzo!” Even more volatile than usual, Tony reached for the weapon holstered at his side, and Santo held up a hand.

“Stand down. Charlie Nails is old and slow, and Nico is maybe upset that you have stolen his woman. But he understands that this is a sacrifice that must be made for la famiglia.”

Nico’s stomach tightened at the thought of his crazy cousin married to Mia, the girl he’d once held, trembling in his arms, who had become a beautiful woman who stirred a longing in him he had long thought dead. Did her father, Don Cordano, understand the risk? The danger she was in? “Did she agree to this?”

~ About the Author ~

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, SARAH CASTILLE, worked and traveled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes sexy contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. Her books include Beyond the Cut, Chaos Bound and Rough Justice.

 Get in touch with Sarah:

Twitter ~ Author Website

How NOT to do a book blog tour #WriterWednesday #amwriting #marketing

Although blog tours are no longer the end-all, be-all for indie book marketing, they are still an important marketing tool. If done right. I know I’ve touched on this topic before, but recently I’ve had several tours make the same silly mistakes.

No Excerpt. Readers need to get a feel for an author’s writing. Sure, they can click through to the Amazon or Barnes and Noble link, but why would they? A funny or suspenseful synopsis can be just the hook you need to get more clicks. I’m still unsure whether an excerpt is necessary for a cover reveal. I actually never provide an excerpt for a cover reveal, but I read a blog yesterday from a blog tour company saying that they had complaints when no excerpt was provided. Duly noted!

Protected Excerpt. What the heck do I mean with that? I know writers want to protect their work. So do I! But when you ask bloggers to help you promote your work, you need to help them help you. Providing an excerpt in a pdf file which is copy protected is not helpful. Blogging is not a full-time job for the vast majority of us. We have a gazillion things to do and retyping your excerpt is not going to be one of them!

No Author Picture. Are you trying to hide something? Why don’t you want readers to know what you look like? That’s what I think when I read a blog post about a book without a picture. It completely distracts me from the contents of the book that is being promoted. If I’m thinking it, I’m sure other readers are too.

No giveaway. I’ll be perfectly honest. I never enter the giveaways. I live outside of the US and often the giveaways are not international. I probably wouldn’t enter if I was in the US either, but lots and lots of people do. Having a giveaway creates a lot of buzz. The hashtag #giveaway on twitter will increase your views and retweets. And then there’s the increase in followers on Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads. A $15 Amazon gift card is a small price to pay for an extra 100 followers and 50 people adding the book to their TBR list on Goodreads.

If you want to know how I think you should do a blog tour, check out this blog post. Spoiler alert: it’s a lot of work.