Twinkle (Sugandha) Varshney's Blog, page 332

Beautiful Masterpiece By Gen Ryan

  $1.99 SALE LIMITED TIME ONLY  Title: Beautiful MasterpieceAuthor: Gen RyanSeries: Thin Red Lines/ Book 1Genre: Romantic Suspense, Thriller, CrimePublisher: Hot Tree PublishingDesigner: Claire SmithRelease Date: February 20th Unconditional love and unredeemable souls, not everyone can be saved. Madison Harper is no stranger to monsters. 
After surviving an unimaginable childhood, she fights her past every day and dreams of working for the FBI to protect the innocent from monsters like her own father. Her plans are clear: finish her PhD, then join the next class of trainees. 
Her father’s escape fast forwards her plans. 
The two agents assigned to protect and instruct Madison offer her so much more than she ever expected. They teach her about love and pain, trust and loss. But not everyone can or should be saved. 
Will Madison avoid being her father’s last Beautiful Masterpiece? Amazon US I UK I CA I AU 
iTunes I Nook I Kobo Website I Facebook I Twitter I GoodreadsYou can find Genevieve curled up reading paranormal romance and romantic thrillers, or frantically typing her stories on her laptop.

Psychology is her trade by day, teaching and molding the minds of college students. Her interest in psychology can be seen in her books, each including many psychological undertones. Although she loves teaching,  her passion, her true love, lays in the stories that roam around her in head. Yes, they all come from her mind--the good, the bad, and the totally insane. 

She lives in Massachusetts--no not Boston-with her husband, daughter, and American Eskimo dog. With each story she shares, she hopes her love for writing and storytelling seeps through, encompassing the reader and leaving them wanting more.

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Sins of A Wolf by Jessica Lee

Sins of A Wolf by Jessica Lee Series: KinKaid Wolf Pack, #4Genre: M/M Shifter/Paranormal Romance
Cover Designer: Mina CarterRelease Date: February 22, 2016

The heat building between them is ready to erupt, threatening to shatter the wall around a soldier’s heart.

Former Green Beret, Zackary “Sin” Sinclair has a secret nipping at his heels. And he’ll do anything—go anywhere—to keep that info locked down tight. Including playing along with the news that he’s the father of his best friend’s little sister’s baby. But there’s no way in hell that’s possible since he hasn’t touched a woman in years. That, and his best friend has no idea Sin’s been hiding the fact he’s gay since they were teenagers.

KinKaid Wolf Pack Enforcer, Aydin Michaels is his cousin’s new pet project. If he doesn’t sober up and fall in line, he’ll be kissing his new career goodbye, and more than likely, packing up to head back east. The last thing he needs is a smokin’ hot human male with eyes that turn him inside out trying to play his hero.

When a bar fight goes wrong and Sin ends up bitten, Aydin is charged with tracking him down—before he shifts—and educating him about those in the world who aren’t quite human. Rule number one: in order to survive, shifters stick together. But convincing the hardheaded soldier on the run to stay put, preferably with him, is easier said than done. For Sin, putting down roots means paying a price. He either betrays a friend and risks losing the only family he’s ever known, or walk away from the man who’s claimed a piece of his soul.







The KinKaid Wolf Pack TrilogyIncludes Books #1 - #3

Jessica Lee is an EPIC eBook Award winner and international bestselling author of paranormal romance. She lives in the southeastern United States with her husband and son. In her former life, Jessica was a science geek and spent over twenty-five years as a nurse. But after the birth of her son, she left her medical career behind. During that transition, she discovered her passion for writing romance and has never looked back. Jessica Lee is currently published with Entangled Publishing and Resplendence Publishing. Plus she has several self published titles available.



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Our Man Friday by Claire Thompson

M/M/F ménage - What’s the old adage—sex ruins friendship? When best friends Cassidy and Ian give in to their conflicted passion, Ian pulls back. Cassidy, heart breaking, lets him. Enter Kye McClellan, the sexy Scotsman who heats things up to the boiling point. The sex is scorching hot, but can three hearts truly beat as one?Cassidy fights the lingering feelings for her ex, Ian. Still secretly, desperately in love with him, she settles for sharing a house and a business. Their lives are intertwined in every way--except the way she wants most.Fear of commitment drove Ian to push their romance into the friendship zone. But things become decidedly uncomfortable when sexy Scotsman Kye McClellan enters the picture. Ian is faced with the sudden prospect of losing the thing most precious to him. As both Cassidy and Ian succumb to Kyes charms, Cassidy begins to wonder if she can have all she's ever wanted...plus one. Then, just as things get white-hot, Kyes takes to his feet to avoid the burn. Ian and Cassidy are left with each other...and an even bigger missing piece than before. All they can do is trust that love will somehow bring their gypsy-hearted lover home again. 
Buy LinksRomance Unbound ~ Amazon ~ iBooks ~ BN ~ KoboShe looked down at his large hand covering hers. Her arm tingled as she imagined him sliding those fingers along her skin, moving upward toward her shoulder. Her nipples were erect and probably showing through the thin material of her lacey bra and tank top. She pulled her hand from beneath his and crossed her arms over her chest.She thought suddenly about the condition of the house, about the disarray in the huge living room they’d commandeered for Ian’s studio and her work area. They were both so focused on getting the business up and running, neither had the time nor the inclination to do much housekeeping. Despite their best intentions, though most of the boxes were unpacked, pictures had yet to be hung and there were no curtains on the windows.Oh well. There were worse things than a messy house. Somehow she didn’t think Kye would mind too much. The spare bedroom was clean. It just needed sheets on the bed.Though she hadn’t intended to pry, she found herself saying, “So it was an amiable split? No broken hearts?”Kye shrugged. “Maybe cracked a bit. In retrospect, I guess it was just one of those flings—you know, you connect with people when you’re traveling in a more immediate way than you would otherwise. Sometimes when people return to their home turf, they realize they were just kidding themselves. They return to ‘the real world’, I guess you’d say. I apparently was not part of that real world.”He looked so sad she wanted to lean over and hold him. Why were things always such a mess when it came to relationships? Inwardly she sighed, thinking of her own confusion and longing when it came to love. Aloud she said, “Was she American?”“Actually it wasn’t a she,” Kye answered, his cheeks dimpling. “It was a guy.”Gay? Had she misread his cues, comments and body language so completely? Cassidy’s stunned reaction must have shown on her face. “Not what you were expecting to hear, I’m guessing?”“No, it’s not that, I mean, well, yes.” Cassidy struggled to recover. “I usually have a pretty good read on that sort of thing.”Kye again put his hand over hers, his touch warm and firm. “Your read was quite accurate. It just so happens I’m attracted to men as well. That’s not so unusual, is it? You give me the impression of someone who’s open-minded about such things.”“Yeah. I’m totally cool with it.” In fact she wasn’t sure what she was with it, at least in regard to him. What was her problem? Had she already planned to seduce the guy, when on the surface they had only bartered business advice for a bed?Yeah, she admitted, she had. She could almost feel his hard, strong body covering hers, her nipples mashed beneath his chest, her sex soaked with desire as he eased himself into her heat…Kye shook her out of her mini-fantasy. “Would you like another beer?”Forcing the fantasy from her mind, Cassidy glanced at her watch. It was already after eight. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. Say, have you had dinner yet?” When he shook his head no, she continued. “I was going to stop and pick up some tamales. Then I could take you home and introduce you to Ian.”“Sounds like a plan, though I have no idea what tamales are.”Cassidy grinned. “Then you’re in for a treat. Do you want to follow me?”“I’d have to run awfully fast, I’m afraid. I have no car.”“No car in Houston? How do you get around?”“I’ve only been here a few weeks. Until today I didn’t need one.”Cassidy sensed the subject was a sore one. “No problem. You can come with me.”As they left the bar, Cassidy could feel the eyes of some of the regulars on her. She waved toward some gay friends of hers, George and Paul, who waved back. George, who was always telling her what a great catch Ian was and how foolish she was not to ensnare him, lifted a thumb approvingly into the air. She fervently hoped Kye hadn’t seen the gesture.Kye put his few possessions in the back of Cassidy’s car and climbed into the passenger seat beside her as she started the engine. She pulled out of the parking lot, wondering what the hell had gotten into her. Picking up a stranger, taking him in her car, bringing him home to Ian? Was she certifiably insane? Yet she didn’t feel panicked, nor did she really question the decision, though admittedly it wasn’t like her to bring someone she’d just met home. Instinctively she knew she could trust this man. There was something about him that put her at ease, once she got past his devastatingly good looks.They picked up tamales, enchiladas and refritos, and a six-pack of beer to go with it, before heading home. Kye insisted on paying.Cassidy pulled into the driveway of the old house, with its sagging wrap-around porch and small yard, the grass of which was in desperate need of cutting, bright yellow dandelions peeking here and there through the green. She was embarrassed at the place’s bedraggled appearance.She turned to offer her excuses, but Kye beat her to it. “What a fantastic old house. I love all the turrets and towers. This must be one of the older houses in Houston. This is really yours?”The admiration was evident in his voice, and Cassidy’s embarrassment was replaced, or at least mitigated, by pride. “Yeah. Well, the mortgage is ours.” She flashed a rueful grin. “It was a foreclosure and we got it for an incredible deal. It’s still a hefty monthly payment though. Sometimes I think we rushed into it.”“This house will return its investment tenfold, you can count on it. You made the right decision. It’s a sound old place, I’m willing to bet. A few nails and a bit of paint will smarten it up nicely. Have you got a lawn mower?”“Yes, though I guess you wouldn’t know it from the looks of the lawn. That’s Ian’s job but he’s been so busy…”“That I can well understand. Perhaps in the morning I can give the yard a quick mow. I wouldn’t mind a bit. I like to be occupied.”“Oh, I couldn’t ask you—”“And nor did you. I offered.”They climbed out of the car and walked to the front door. She opened the door, calling, “Hi, Ian. I’m back. I brought Mexican food and a new friend. Come out and meet him.” She held her breath, waiting for Ian to appear. What was she nervous about? Kye wasn’t her date, and anyway she didn’t need Ian’s permission to bring someone home.After a moment Ian came into the large front hall, running his hands through his short blond hair so that it stood on end, making him look like he’d just woken up. It was a habit he had when he had been concentrating on something for a long time and was trying to return to the world, as he termed it. She had always found the gesture endearing, and her heart lurched at the sight of him.“Ian. This is Kye McClellan. He’s visiting from Scotland.”A flicker of a scowl crossed Ian’s face though it was quickly replaced by a pleasant smile. They moved toward one another and shook hands. She knew Ian was wondering if the term friend was code for lover.
About The AuthorI've been writing for nearly two decades, and have published over 60 novels. I write BDSM romance and non-con abduction tales, spanning both m/f and m/m genres. My love affair is with all things D/s (Dominance/submission). My work began as a romantic exploration of the BDSM life style, and then veered somewhat to the darker side of fantasy. I love delving into the dark psyche of a twisted mind, and gaining insight into what might motivate such a person to do what they do. I don't create all black and white villains and heroes, but rather strive to develop real, complex and flawed human beings. I don't want to simply provide an erotic thrill or evocative description. I seek not only to tell a story, but to come to grips with, and ultimately exalt in the true beauty and spirituality of a loving exchange of power. My darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. Ultimately my work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience. 
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Honor Roll by Kelly Collins

HONOR ROLLAUTHOR: Kelly CollinsGENRE: Contemporary Romance When do you become the sum of your parts?Drop dead gorgeous, kind to a fault and good in bed, twenty-six-year-old graduate student Luca Gregorio meets all the requirements for The Dean’s List, a university society that offers alumni anything they desire—for a price. Weeks from graduating, Luca loses his most valuable client. Determined to graduate debt free, he needs new patrons to cover his shortfall. His once easy job at Concierge Services becomes complicated once he meets Mim Knight, a woman he can’t ignore.She was worth more.Cultured and beautiful Mim Knight isn’t looking for anything but a quick end to a frustrating workday when Luca Gregorio shows up on the other side of her desk. Despite his too-good-to-be-true looks, he’s different from the trust fund boys she’s used to. He’s fearless, genuine, and sexy as hell.They say money is the root of all evil, but they’re wrong.Drowning in lies of omission, Luca knows one misplaced step will lose Mim forever, but like his dream of financial freedom, he can’t let her go. In the world of commodities, everyone has something to sell. What price do you demand for your honor? What price do you put on love? “Who is she?” Jade asked.“That's Mim.” When I closed my eyes, I could see her smile and hear her laughter. “She’s the assistant for my new professor. She’s different. Bad attitude. Cute smile. Sexy accent.”River reached across and held my hand. “I’m so happy for you.”“It’s not like that. I asked her to dinner and she told me I was taking her out on Thursday. So now I have to decide if I’m going to show.” Deep inside I knew I’d go because even though Mim was frustrating in the few encounters I had with her, she was the realest thing I had right now besides these two.Jade sat up and leaned in. “I call bullshit. You get a soft, warm look on your face when you say her name.”“She says she loves Italian.” I bit my lip in that sexy way women liked and winked at my friends.“Yes, but you can love Italian, or you can looove Italian. Which is it going to be?” River asked. Amazon US ✯ Amazon UK ✯ Kobo ✯ Nook ✯ iTunes Amazon US ✯ Amazon UK ✯ Kobo ✯ Nook ✯ iTunes Kelly Collins writes with the intention of keeping the love alive. Always a romantic, she is inspired by real time events mixed with a dose of fiction. She encourages her readers to reach the happily ever after but bask in the afterglow of the perfectly imperfect love. Kelly lives in Colorado with her husband of twenty-five years. She loves hockey, shiny objects and has a new found appreciation for green smoothies. Kelly has a landing page that hosts all her books.
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Carnal by Victoria Danann

CARNAL, The Beast Who Loved MeExiled #1 AUTHOR: Victoria DanannOfficial genre of book Paranormal RomanceContent warning 18+Name of cover designer: Victoria DanannPhotographer: Invita
The angel, Kellareal, stopped the genocide of generations of hybrids, who had been bred for research and spent their entire lives imprisoned. Against orders, he spirited them away to a dimension where they would have freedom and purpose.
In a vindictive fit, Rosie Storm asked Kellareal for a place to hide out. He knew just the place for her to grow up, learn emotional control, and other necessary things necessary for the proper education of a young woman wielding god-like power. The angel motioned her over.
“Rosie, this is Free. He’s the leader of the Exiled here at Newland.” Kellareal turned to Free. “This is my adopted niece, Rosie.”Rosie jerked her attention to the angel. She’d never heard him suggest a title for their relationship before, adopted or otherwise.“With your permission, I need a couple of minutes with Rosie to say goodbye. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks to check on things.”“Always good to see you,” Free said to Kellareal, in a voice so gravelly it almost startled Rosie.The angel took her by the elbow and walked her toward the edge of the settlement, near the wall.“So here are the rules.”“Rules?” She almost sounded alarmed.“Yes. Rules,” he clipped, sounding serious enough to get her full attention. “Extraordinary measures have made these people stronger and smarter than humans. Given the right circumstances, they’re also more dangerous. As far as they know, you’re a human girl, who needs a place to hide out for a bit. I don’t want them to suspect differently. Do you get me?”She pulled back, looking affronted. “Yes! I get you! You don’t want me to do anything a…” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “…’human girl’ wouldn’t do.”“Exactly. And lose the adolescent attitude.” She rolled her eyes. “Rosie, please don’t make me look bad.”She sighed. “Okay. I appreciate this.”“Well, I hope you still feel that way in a couple of weeks of working here.”“Working?” She seemed surprised.“Yes. Working. It’s not all kittens and rainbows here. Pull your socks up.”Rosie was narrowing her eyes and gearing up for a reply when Kellareal vanished leaving her wondering what ‘pull your socks up’ means. She turned toward the Exiled leader, whom Kellareal had called the Extant, and began walking in his direction. When a gust of wind ruffled her hair, she looked toward the east, where the human city could be seen below and in the distance.Free looked down at her and smiled when she reached him. “Let’s get you situated. I see you didn’t bring belongings?”She looked around like she’d misplaced them. “No. I guess I didn’t think about it.”“No matter. We’ll sort it out. You can stay at my house with my family. We can always use help at the Commons. The unmated males spend a lot of time there. Drinking. Eating. Since they’re not mated.” He added, smiling as if that explained the whole of the universe. “If anybody gives you any trouble or unwanted attention, just come to me. I’ll take care of it.”For a scant instant she wondered what it might be like to be a young woman who had to worry about men trying to press their physical advantage and thanked the gods she’d never have to find out how vulnerable that would make someone feel.“Thank you,” she smiled in return. “I don’t have any experience working at… um, working.”Free looked at her sideways. “You seem capable. You’ll learn.”By the time they reached Free’s house, it was almost dark and evident that Newland had no power for lighting. The house, like the other buildings, was made of roughhewn logs, with a small but cheerful light coming from the front windows. It appeared to be three stories and larger than most of the other buildings.Free opened the door and entered before Rosie. The room wasn’t plush or luxurious, but was definitely inviting. The upholstered furniture was worn, but friendly-looking. The fire was small, but welcoming. “Serene!” His growly voice rumbled. Rosie couldn’t tell if he was displeased or if his voice always sounded like that.A woman, roughly the same age as Free, appeared from the back of the house wiping her hands. She cocked her head at Rosie. “Hello,” she said. Her voice was also raspy, but not as deep as Free’s.“Hello,” Rosie replied. “I’m…”“She’s Kellareal’s ward,” Free interrupted. “She needs a place to stay for a while.”Serene smiled. “Of course. You’re welcome.”The door crashed open behind Rosie. “Hey, I…”Rosie turned to see an extremely good-looking boy staring at her.“Rosie. This is our youngest son, Charming.”She looked from Free to Serene for a hint that he was joking, but saw none. Turning back to the new arrival she said, “Nice to meet you, Charming.”She fully expected him to break into a fit of laughter and tell her that wasn’t really his name. Instead, he said, “Hi. Rosie.”“She’s going to be staying with us for a while. Show her to Carnal’s room.”“But…” Charming started.“Show her to Carnal’s room.” Free repeated with a bit more insistence in his tone. “Then come back down for dinner.”“Okaaaay.”Rosie estimated Charming’s age at eighteen or so. He had honey colored hair, streaked with blonde, just like his mother. And yellow-green eyes. Also just like his mother. He was as tall as Free with a powerful, athletic build that suggested it would become even more impressive in a couple of years.He gave Rosie a smile that was, well, charming and motioned for her to follow up the stairs. “This way.” He stopped at the second story landing and said, “Carnal’s room is there.” He pointed down the hall to the right. “My room is up there.” He pointed to a narrower staircase that led upward. “The attic room. It has a great view. I can see just about everything that happens in Newland,” he said proudly.Rosie smiled and turned toward the room Charming had pointed out, noting that there was another room down the hall. “Am I, um, displacing someone?”“Displacing?” He opened the door to a decidedly masculine space. It was minimalist to the extreme. A wood platform bed with four thick square legs, but no headboard. A double shelf unit with a few books, rocks, and feathers on one side and folded clothes on the other side. There was a paraffin lamp on a small square stand by the bed and another on the shelf unit. There wasn’t much there, but what was there was neat as a military barracks. Bed perfectly made. Nothing out of place. “No. Not at all. This is my oldest brother’s room, but he doesn’t come home often.”“Oh.”“Do you need help with your stuff?”“No. I, ah, didn’t bring anything. I’ll get my, ah, stuff in the next couple of days.”Charming nodded. “Well, then, let’s have supper.”When Rosie told Kellareal she needed a hideout, the last thing she had in mind was becoming an exchange student. She didn’t want to get to know and be part of a family, but not eating would raise suspicion. After all her cover was human and humans must eat. So she said, “Okay,” and followed Charming back downstairs.“Is Carnal away at school?”Charming paused mid step to laugh. “Nothing like that. No. He’s on patrol right now.” He resumed descent, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Smell that? We’re having elk stew with parsnips and onions. You’ll love it.”Rosie had to admit that it did smell good. The kitchen was square with a table and chairs in the middle of the room, but the first thing that attracted her eye was the wood stove and the precision cut stack of firewood next to it. The front panel had been left standing open to heat the room with coals left smoldering from cooking. She’d seen such stoves in books, but never in person.Charming’s parents had already filled their bowls and were waiting patiently.She sat down across from Charming and pulled in her chair just as he reached out and tore off a large chunk of brown bread from the dome-shaped loaf in the middle of the table. Next to it sat a pot of stew.“Go on. Help yourself,” said Charming with his mouth full.So she stood and ladled a generous portion into her bowl, while Free carried on quiet conversation about livestock.After a few minutes, Charming said, “Why aren’t you eating?”Everyone stopped and looked at Rosie.“Well, it looks so good and smells even better,” she said, looking from one to the other. Serene smiled in response. “But to be honest, I’m worried about the sauce.” It was tomato-based. “These are the only clothes I have at the moment.”They all looked at her thin white boyfriend shirt, which caused a blush.Serene rose from the table and retrieved an apron. She flicked it in front of Rosie and tied the top close to her neck.“There,” she said. “Tomorrow we’ll see about scrounging up some other clothes.” She looked at Free. “What was Kellareal thinking?”Rosie was grateful enough to warm to the idea of getting to know the family.Free shrugged. “Got a lot on his mind. Always.”“Thank you,” Rosie told Serene as she dug into the stew. “Oh my gods. This is incredible!” she said before quite finishing the first bite.Serene beamed and Free did not miss the signs of her pleasure, which in turn pleased him. He turned to Rosie.“The large building next door is the Commons. Tomorrowmorning, Charming will take you over there and introduce you to the woman in charge. She’ll lay it out for you and get you started right.”“Okay. And thank you for having me.”Serene interjected. “We’re very sincere when we say you’re welcome here for as long as you’d like to stay. Kellareal must think very highly of you. If you’re special to him, you’re special to us.”Rosie nodded and returned her smile, not wanting to spout off about what a pain he could be. She thought better of being the one to tarnish the rosy esteem in which he was held.“No reason to wait till tomorrow morning. I’m headed over there right now.” Charming was talking to Rosie. “Come and go with me. I’ll be the envy of Newland, arriving with a beautiful woman.”Free glanced at me. “Do you want to go, Rosie?”She hesitated. Charming pled with his eyes in such a cute way she had a hard time saying no. “Maybe for just a little while.”Free then turned to Charming. “Make it clear that she’s a special guest of mine,” he warned.“Sure, Pop.”“Charming, this is not a joke. Can you be trusted to take care of Rosie?”Charming grew instantly serious, transforming his looks so that he appeared older. “Yes.”Free nodded. Amazon ~ Goodreads USA TODAY Bestselling Author, Victoria Danann, is making her debut into Contemporary Romance with releases in May and June 2015, after taking the world of PNR by storm.Her Knights of Black Swan series won BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES TWO YEARS IN A ROW (2013, 2014). Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.Victoria's paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on "imaginary" creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, past life therapists, or financial analysts from Dallas. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners - usually - whether they be elves, demons, berserkers, werewolves, or vampires.The first book of the Knights of Black Swan Paranormal Romance Series, My Familiar Stranger, was nominated for Best Paranormal Romance of 2012 by both Reviewers' Choice and Readers' Choice Awards. All of her books have opened on the Amazon Best Sellers list and earned Night Owl Reviews TOP PICK awards. Many have appeared on Listopia BOOK OF THE MONTH as #1 across all genres.For books published in 2013, Black Swan won three awards. 1. Best Paranormal Romance Series 2. Best Paranormal Romance Novel - A SUMMONER'S TALE 3. Best Vampire~Shifter Novel - MOONLIGHT. In 2014, Solomon's Sieve won Best Vampire Novel.If you're interested in Victoria personally, she is also a classically trained musician who defected to Classic Rock music. Until 2013 she was the utility player for Houston's Roadhouse band, which means she played rhythm guitar, keyboards, sang back ups and female leads. Her band covered everything (note for note) from Styx to Led Zepellin to Rush.She lives in The Woodlands, Texas with her husband and a very smart, mostly black German Shepherd dog. a Rafflecopter giveaway BLOGGER PARTICIPATION LIST FOR THIS TOUR

Molly's Misadventures by D.E. Haggert

MOLLY'S MISADVENTURESAUTHOR: D.E. HaggertyGENRE: Contemporary Romantic Comedy
I’m having the suckiest day ever. First, my father, aka Mr. Grumpy Pants, calls to say his nurse just walked out on him. Likely story. I rush home to pack only to walk in on my husband getting it on with his young, skanky secretary. Unfortunately, my quick weekend trip home to fix Dad’s problems turns into a stay of a few weeks. Luckily, I’ve got Danny, the neighbor boy I had a crush on when I was a dorky, braces-wearing, nose-buried-in-a-book teenager, and a brand-spanking new blog to keep my mind off things. Before I know it, I’m writing product reviews of vibrators and getting questioned by a store rent-a-cop at the world’s worst date ever. All while trying to figure out how to take things with Danny to the next level. Not to complicate things or anything but my boss decides to give me an ultimatum – come back in four weeks or don’t come back at all. How in the world did my life get so complicated? As the waiters roll out a cart covered in pasta rollers, my nerves kick into high gear. It can’t be that we’re expected to make fresh pasta dough now? Shit! Instead of fantasizing about what Danny’s hiding in his pants, I should have been taking notes. I look down and notice the flour and eggs on the table in front of us. I really should have paid attention. I lean over and whisper in Danny’s ear. “I hope you were paying attention.” He chuckles and nods, as if making fresh pasta is no big deal. He’s obviously not spent any time in a kitchen when I’ve been behind the stove. Using a packaged mix to make waffles or pancakes is totally not on the same level as making something from scratch with fresh ingredients. Danny stands and grabs an apron from the table. He unrolls it and places it over my head. “Turn around, babe.” I turn, and he ties the apron right above the curve of my ass. He ghosts his hands over my ass before leaning in and kissing me right behind my ear. “Don’t worry. It will be fun.” Easy for him to say. I let Danny mix the flour and eggs, which is a mistake. He pours the dough onto the surface and turns to me. “Your turn.” “My turn for what?” I squeak. “Knead the dough.” I roll my eyes. “Knead the dough,” I mutter. “Sure, no problem.” I start to play with the dough; not having a clue what kneading really means. Danny stands and comes up behind me. He plasters his front into my back and reaches around to grab my hands. “Like this, baby,” he whispers into my ear and I shiver. Oh yeah, I’ll knead the dough all right. I’ll knead that freaking dough all night. Once the dough is wrapped into plastic, I head off to the restroom to make room in my bladder for more champagne. I do my business and walk to the sinks to wash my hands. I look up at the mirror and let out a scream. There’s flour streaked across my forehead. Is that dough in my hair? I clean up as best I can as quickly as possible because I’m supposed to be helping Danny make sauce for our pasta instead of having a meltdown in the bathroom. I march to our table and confront Danny. “You could have told me I had flour all over me,” I grit out between my teeth. He shrugs. Shrugs! “You looked so cute.” He winks as he says at it. I deflate. How does that man know the right thing to say all the time? “Come on, stop moping and help me with this pasta sauce.” Danny doesn’t need any help with the sauce. I sip on my sparkling wine as he chops, stirs, and tastes. When he’s satisfied with the flavor, he offers me a taste. Man, that’s good. I moan. He leans forward and whispers into my ear, “I want to hear you make that noise while I’m in your pants.” I stop breathing for a second. When did Danny go from boy next door to tease extraordinaire? I watch with satisfaction as he reaches down and adjusts himself. He catches me watching, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He just winks again and turns back to the sauce.  AMAZON ~ SMASHWORDS ~ B&N ~ KOBO ~ GOODREADS I grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage every once in a while to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. Another job change, this time from lawyer to B&B owner, and I was again fed up and ready to scream I quit, which is incredibly difficult when you own the business. Thus, I shut the B&B during the week and in the off-season and started writing. Several books later I find myself in Istanbul writing full-time.AMAZON ✯ WEBSITE ✯ BLOG ✯ FACEBOOK ✯ GOODREADS ✯ TWITTER ✯ GOOGLE+ ✯ PINTEREST BLOGGER PARTICIPATION LIST FOR THIS TOUR

Darkness Undone by Georgia Lyn Hunter.

DARKNESS UNDONEBook 1 of The Warlords of Empyrea AUTHOR: G.L. HunterGENRE: Paranormal Romance A fading realm, a warrior bound, and the woman who will save them both… Bound to a vengeful goddess, immortal warrior, Reynner, has little time for the fairer sex. The last thing he wants is to be aligned with another female, even if she is the key to finding an artifact and saving his realm. But his stone-cold resistance is tested, his attraction undeniable for the feisty mortal, until she demands the one thing he cannot give her…his trust. Eve Leighton avoids intimacy of any sort after an accident in her teens left her with a painful ability to see into another’s mind through physical contact. When an ice-cold warrior claims she is his world’s savior, she’s intrigued, until she dares a look into his soul and sees a man who’s been cruelly betrayed. She agrees to help him and loses her heart. But the man is an unassailable fortress. With quiet determination, she chips away his barriers and a passion darker than night pulls them under. As his enemies closes in on the hunt for the artifact, Reynner must overcome his own personal demons as battles are fought to claim the woman he loves or lose her forever. And Eve has to face her own mortality and fight for a love of a lifetime. The sudden hush in the busy little café should have been his first clue shit was about to fly.Wrapped in his thoughts, Reynner savored his dark roasted coffee hot enough to scrape a layer off his throat, when he became aware of the unnatural quiet. Looking up, he got an eyeful of a tall female sashaying toward him, not in the least surprised she’d found him. Again.Lustrous black hair framed a face of sheer perfection, one that made gods and men whimper for her favor. A long, fitted white dress with a slit up to her thigh hugged her body and fell to her ankles.Oh, he understood the awed silence all too well since he’d once succumbed to that same sensual spell. Easing his grip on the mug, he set it aside, wishing he’d taken his coffee to go. A chair scraped on the linoleum opposite him. A moment later, her stiletto heel rode up his leather-clad leg to caress his inner thigh beneath the tablecloth.He shoved her foot off him. In a measured move, he picked up a coin from the change on the table and spun it so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach across and strangle her.“Get lost, Inanna. I'm busy.”“Reynner…” She held out a hand in appeal, her topaz eyes luminescent with tears. “Don’t do this...”Ignoring the Sumerian Goddess of Love and War hadn’t worked in the past, and certainly not now.He cut her an implacable stare. “Don’t do what? Ignore you? Or prefer other females?”Her face darkened at his mention of the women. “Why would you want these weak, pathetic creatures?” Her tears vanished as fast as they appeared. “I'm powerful. I’ll make it wonderful between us again.”Reynner leaned back in the wooden chair and ran a cool, dismissive gaze over her stunning face and lush body. More flighty promises, but no hint of an apology for what she’d done to him. The thought would never have entered her narcissistic mind.“I enjoy other women.”“You lie.”Reynner shrugged. Picking up the fallen coin, he worked it between his fingers. He just wanted coffee and a few minutes of quiet before he went back on the streets. Instead, he got her.It should have felt good torturing Inanna, but he got no enjoyment, just a prolonged headache that had started over two millennia ago.How could he have known then that stopping at the Sumerian pantheon would so irrevocably change his life?“You’ve become cold and unfeeling. One little mistake and you're still making me pay.” Her sulky voice drew him back.“One little mistake?” His tone made glaciers seem warm.“It was just a teeny-tiny year—”“A year?” His hands crashed on the table. The coin flew and disappeared beneath a chair. “It was a fucking century in Hell!”Inanna jerked back and blinked. Several humans turned their way in curiosity.“Your deception caught me unaware, never forget what I am,” he said, his warning clear.Her eyes flickered. Not from fear, Inanna didn’t believe there was anyone more powerful than her, but with a gleam of sexual promise. She knew all too well what he was, and why she hounded him.Empyreans were a race of beings as old as the celestial angels and just as powerful, but far more carnal.She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, her low neckline displaying an eyeful of cleavage. “I’ll make it up to you…” Her voice lowered to a smoky promise. “I’ll make you my consort.”He’d rather be imprisoned in Hell again.“You have a mate.”“I am a goddess. I can do whatever I want. Come on, lover,” she wheedled. “It will be good between us again…then I’ll help you find what you seek.”Reynner stilled, his instincts on alert. Did she know where the missing Stone was? But meeting her watchful gaze, he dismissed the thought. No immortal would know for sure. The damn thing hid from them all. Even if she could aid him, he would never accept her help. It always came with a price.Reining in his irritation, he ignored her baiting and turned to take in the busy café.The brunette waitress at the table farther down watched him from beneath her lashes while she served a customer. She’d been sending him all sorts of signals from the moment she’d set his coffee down. Ones he didn’t encourage since he had no interest in females as a whole. Besides, he knew what a jealous bitch Inanna could be.A virulent hiss erupted from opposite him when she spotted the waitress. As if to prove his point, with a flick of her hand, the waitress flew backward, crashing into a table. Chaos erupted, drowning the female’s frightened cry. Two human males rushed to help her.A cat-like smile curved Inanna’s mouth. But her eyes flared with ire as she played with the deep blue lapis lazuli stone set in intricate silver filigree around her neck. “Look at another human tart again, and I will hurt her.”Of that, he had little doubt. AMAZON ✯ iTUNES ✯ KOBO ✯ SMASHWORDS ✯ NOOK ✯ GOODREADS I’ve been creating stories from the moment I could string two words together. No matter the tale, it always has romance woven through them. Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic.When I’m not writing or plotting new books, I like to read, travel, painting, or troll flea markets where I usually buy things I might never actually use because they're so pretty.After working in a few jobs all art related, a chosen career as a fashion designer, then an art teacher, I finally found my passion four years ago: writing. There really is no other job I’d rather do.Oh, and I live in the beautiful country of South Africa.AMAZON ✯ WEBSITE ✯ FACEBOOK ✯ GOODREADS ✯ TWITTER BLOGGER PARTICIPATION LIST FOR THIS TOUR

Between Good and Evil by R. Michael Phillips.

BETWEEN GOOD AND EVILAuburn Notch Mystery Book 1 AUTHOR: R. Michael PhillipsGENRE: Mystery
 Published by Sunbury Press With a broad smile and slight wrinkles at the corners of your eyes you snap shut your suitcase and grab the sunscreen without ever entertaining the notion murderers go on vacation too. What adds a chilling dimension to the idea is they look just like any other tourist in plaid shorts and a golf shirt until you catch a glimpse of the terrifying evil hidden behind their Foster Grants. It’s not something you’re likely to forget, especially once they look up over the postcard rack and realize you’re the one that got away.Promise Flynn was an overly impulsive Metro Detective whose disregard for procedure finally resulted in her being shot and left for dead during an investigation. To repair her bruised ego and splintered confidence she abandons the callous dark alleys of Chicago to patrol the quiet, birch-lined streets of Auburn Notch—a favorite vacation spot of her youth. For two years everything was idyllic, until the body of a young girl found in the abandoned asylum outside of town awakens the insecurities she thought her new life would insulate her from. As the new Sheriff she begins her investigation refusing to accept the similarities between the young woman’s death and her own case, oblivious to being unexpectedly recognized and penciled in at the top of a clever murderer’s To-Do list. Her internal struggle intensifies when a discredited crime reporter from the past suspiciously arrives in town to resurrect his threadbare reputation, along with an FBI agent chasing down a lead in a cold case. Both men quickly become entangled in Flynn's investigation and her attempts to finally put her past to rest. Flynn reluctantly accepts the murder might be the work of the two men responsible for her hasty departure from Chicago, but Agent MacGregor insists the evidence points to a man he’s been chasing. As the rising current of her past threatens to pull her under, Flynn finds herself unprepared for option three. The festivities in town were slowly petering out as the eleven o’clock hour approached. The earlier-packed sidewalks along the main drag, crowded with assorted craft and food vendors, were opening back up in ten-foot sections at a time as booths were disassembled. The trendy watering holes were still flush with business. The locals shuffled through the crowds grumbling about quieter times, while the newly of-age drinkers were busy testing the waters and carving out a space for themselves at the bar. The clusters gathered around family activities had diminished proportionately with the ages of the children attached to the extended arms of their parents. Cafés and eateries were cleaning up after a long day of serving sandwiches, dinners, sweets, and coffee to an overwhelming flock of locals and out-of-towners in for the festival. The assortment of local college students hired for the event were busy wiping down tables, eagerly anticipating a second wave of good tips. About another thirty minutes they figured, as soon as the parents washed the cotton candy and ice cream off all the little faces and they were nestled snugly beneath their covers. “Promise,” a shrill voice called out from one of the tables on the sidewalk in front of the Auburn Coffee House. “Sheriff Flynn, do you have a minute?” As Sheriff Flynn approached the coffee house, she couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Johnson seated at one of the tables on the sidewalk. Policing the festival activities and the swelling of the population proved a long and tiring three days. Chitchat remained at the bottom of her list of things to do at that moment. She had hoped her hastened step, lowered head, and obvious intention of ignoring any recognition of her would give the impression of being off on police business. She paused, looking over the tops of the crowd, hoping to see some sort of minor criminal activity going on. Nothing major, she thought to herself. Public urination would work. Littering. A dog walker not scooping. Anything? Her thoughts eventually drifted to the possibility of a shootout in front of the bank as not being such a bad option at that moment. It wasn’t to be. She caught a glimpse of Mrs. Johnson out of the corner of her eye still waving. Not a distraction in sight. This town is too damn law abiding. “Sheriff Promise Mary Flynn,” called out Mrs. Johnson, as if addressing a petulant child. “I’ve got a matter we need to discuss.” Sheriff Flynn tucked her hopes of a shootout away and walked over to the table. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson, I didn’t see you there. You see, I’m on my way—” “Nonsense,” replied Mrs. Johnson cordially but firmly. “There is always a moment for two civil servants to compare notes. Besides, you have a whole department to handle the day-to-day policing of this fine town.” Mrs. Johnson paused, looked out over her reading glasses at the sheriff, giving the attractive, tall blond the onceover. “You know, it wouldn’t break any laws if you did something with your hair other than stuffing it under that hat.” She gave a petite snort to signal the end of her analyzing glance. “With a little eye shadow, I would imagine some men might even find you attractive.” Sheriff Flynn clenched her teeth into what might be construed as a smile and groaned. Forget the bank, a shootout right here will work just fine. “If this is about the missing money from the swim club account, Hank has been quietly looking into it. I can assure you—” “No. No. No!” Mrs. Johnson replied, looking around and making sure no one was listening. “Please keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to know I’ve asked you to look into that.” Promise bit her inside cheek, continuing the conversation through clenched teeth. “Is there something else on your mind, Alice?” “Yes. There is something much more urgent I believe we need to discuss,” said Alice Johnson. She pushed out the chair across from her with her foot, giving a nod of direction to the sheriff. “Have a seat, this will only take a minute. It’s the well-being of our citizenry at stake, and I know it’s as much a priority to you as it is to me.” There was no escape. Short of an actual crime being committed at that very moment right in front of them, Flynn had no choice but to sit, smile, and listen to what the councilwoman had on her mind. “Well-being of the citizenry? I’m not sure I understand.” The councilwoman pulled a green folder from her oversized canvas tote, placing it down on the table in front of Flynn. “As you can tell by these photos, I’ve made an extensive investigation of that dangerous curve out by the old asylum. This photo here,” she continued, nudging one of the photos out from the pile, “is of particular interest. You see that guardrail? I kicked it a few times, and it broke clean away from the support going into the ground. It’s that way along the entire length of the curve. It’s a deathtrap. I know this is a highway department matter, but I can’t stand by when a potential hazard to the fine people of this town is being ignored.” Sheriff Flynn picked up the photo, making a careful examination of the evidence. “Those temporary barricades should be just fine.” She pointed to one in particular in the photo. “Like this one you had to move in order to get close enough to kick the guardrail. As long as no one moves them again, these will certainly protect the fine citizens of Auburn Notch.” Promise paused for a moment. “I believe there is also a sign directing people to use the fire access road as an alternative. It’s just up around the bend from that curve.” “Nobody is going to use that narrow, dirt road. I certainly wouldn’t. Besides, most people don’t even know it’s there.” “Well, I’m not sure what else I can do. At this point it’s a matter between you and the highway department.” “Luke Sanders said he has money appropriated to replace the old guardrail in the new budget, but his department has a few other matters higher on his priority list.” Councilwoman Johnson tidied up the pile of photos and slipped them and the folder back into her tote. “Those wooden barricades might be fine to block off a parade route, but a speeding car will go right through them and over that embankment.” Sheriff Flynn rose from her seat, eyeing her deputy coming in her direction at a hastened pace. No matter what he wants, she thought to herself, it was going to be an important matter in need of my immediate attention. “Everyone knows how treacherous that stretch of road is. I can’t image anyone speeding around that curve. If it will make you happy, I’ll talk to Luke and see if we can’t get a few more caution signs posted further down the road in both directions until his men can get out there. In the meantime, try not to kick it anymore.” Councilwoman Johnson’s eyes narrowed at the insinuation. She responded with a grunt and a halfhearted smile. “Thank you, Promise, I knew I could count on your support.” Sheriff Flynn nodded. She felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies.” “What is it, Hank?” replied the sheriff brightly; uncharacteristically appreciating his interruption whether or not it turned out to be his usual bellyaching about something he would have done differently. “It may be nothing, Sheriff,” replied Hank, turning the sheriff away from the table and speaking quietly, “but we got a report there’s a lit candle in a second floor window of the old mental hospital. I’ll take care of it, I just wanted to let you know I’m goin’ up there.” Sheriff Flynn didn’t respond. A quick gasp stole her voice. She glanced passed Hank, her eyes rolling upward following the tree line. There, perched on a granite crag a thousand or so feet in elevation above the town, were the weathered edges of slate gables piercing the silhouette of a tired length of pine trees. Where the spikes and dips clustered together were a fair representation of the past health of such a grand structure, the sharp drop-off to a flat, indigo tree line is deathly expressive of its sudden and tragic end. Little more than the discarded shell of how it once appeared, there remained a slight whisper of evil in its squalid halls. To Promise, this evil had a different voice. A voice she never wanted to hear again. “It’s those damn kids,” moaned Mrs. Johnson, her hearing as acute as rumor had it. “You know, that group that walks around here dressed in black with those God-awful tattoos and piercings. Vampires, that’s what I say they are. Black shirts. Black pants. Black boots. Skulking about at night. Always up to no good. What decent child has coal-black hair with a white streak running down the left side? Up to no good, that’s what I say. I’ve a mind to call their parents in front of the next council meeting . . .” “Are you okay, Sheriff?” Hank whispered under Mrs. Johnson’s rant. Sheriff Flynn’s eyes remained fixed on the asylum. The chill running up her spine muffled any recognition of what her deputy was saying. She could feel a dull ache rising in her left shoulder. Not again. It can’t be. It can’t be. “Did you hear me, Promise?” interrupted Councilwoman Johnson. “It’s those kids. Those vampires. Those damn—” Sheriff Flynn raised her hand, shaking off the panicked look she hoped went unnoticed. She took a deep breath, tempering her response. “We don’t know anything yet, Alice. As for your vampires, I don’t think this town has seen a bit of trouble from any of those kids. They just express themselves a little differently than you and I.” She hesitated, trying to hold the words back. The next remark went off like the snap of a mousetrap. “And if dressing in black was a crime, they’d be sharing a cell with you. If you’ll excuse me, I think I better go out and see what’s going on. I’ll make it a point to find you tomorrow after I speak to Luke. Nice seeing you, Alice.” Mrs. Johnson replied with a carping grunt. Before she could mount her rebuttal, Sheriff Flynn and Hank were in the patrol car heading out of town on Interstate 93 toward the abandoned mental hospital. “What are you looking at?” asked Sheriff Flynn, giving a quick glance over at Hank. “If dressing in black was a crime?” “Yeah, I’m probably gonna regret that.” Hank paused, trying to get a read on the sheriff’s expression. She actually looked spooked. They had been working together for two years. Two irritating years, according to Hank. Auburn Notch certainly isn’t a hub of criminal activity, just the usual share of traffic tickets and the occasional dead body due to a house fire or accident. Nothing ever happened that would warrant the mayor appointing some out-of-town, big-city detective as sheriff instead of him. He had the town council’s ear and wasn’t bashful about letting them know he was suspicious about her past. Hank was convinced it was only a matter of time before he would uncover the information he needed to replace his boss behind the big desk in the sheriff’s office. For the time being, she was sheriff, and he just had to deal with it. Promise Flynn might be some out-of-town detective, but she spent many years vacationing in Auburn Notch with her family. One thing she learned back then, there are no secrets in a small New England town. She was very much aware of Hank’s resentment from her first day on the job and decided to let him dig around all he wanted. Just to make it interesting, she also put him in charge of the swim club investigation. She already had a good read on what transpired, but giving the investigation to Hank would flush out his true character. If he’s half the cop he tells people he is, he should have no problem putting the pieces together. It will also test his loyalty. Flynn had a feeling at least two prominent people might be involved with the missing money, and one of them is a close friend of Hanks. If he comes up empty, writing traffic tickets in a small town is going to be the extent of his law enforcement career. Until then, she’ll just have to continue to ignore him tugging at the rug under her boots. “So why are you tagging along? I said I’d handle it.” Flynn’s mind was elsewhere. By the time she realized he was talking to her, Hank tried another approach to get an answer. “Just kids. That’s all,” Hank huffed. “What is?” “The candle in the window of the asylum. I chase those damn kids outta there once a week. You didn’t have to come along. It’s probably nothing. Just a candle in the window of an old building.” Sheriff Flynn looked over at Hank, her lips drawn tightly closed. She shook her head and looked back through the windshield at the dark road ahead. “It’s never just a candle.” AMAZON ✯ B&N ✯ SUNBURY PRESS ✯ GOODREADS Michael is a classically trained artist turned mystery writer. By combining his creative talents with a passion for mysteries he conceived his first series—The Ernie Bisquets Mysteries. It introduced Ernie Bisquets, a retired London pickpocket who decided he was going to assist the London police with there most difficult cases—whether they want his help or not. Michael has completed 3 books in the series, and has plans for at least five additional books.Michael travels a bit, especially to Great Britain, but also has a fondness for New England. He spent many winters in the shadow of the White Mountains, skiing and enjoying the beautiful countryside. Those fond memories are the backdrop now for the new Auburn Notch Mysteries being published by Sunbury Press. The main character is Sheriff Promise Flynn—an ex-metro detective who left a dark past and her big-city detective shield behind and moved to a small New England town. What follows is anything but therapeutic.When he’s not painting or writing Michael is an avid antique collector, filling his current home—an 1894 Queen Ann Victorian he, his wife, and son are restoring—with an assortment of antiques from around the world. Michael also enjoys cooking, working in the garden, and playing in the yard with their two rescues, Beau and Pup.AMAZON ✯ WEBSITE ✯ FACEBOOK ✯ GOODREADS ✯ TWITTER ✯ BLOG BLOGGER PARTICIPATION LIST FOR THIS TOUR

CHOICE OF ENEMIES By M A Richards

CHOICE OF ENEMIESBook 1 of A Nathan Monsarrat Thiller AUTHOR: M A RichardsGENRE: Thriller/Espionage
EDITOR: Janice Rhayem of Sunbury Press
COVER DESIGNER: Amber Rendon of Sunbury Press
CHOICE OF ENEMIES is the first in a series of espionage novels featuring Nathan Monsarrat, a retired Central Intelligence Agency deep cover operative with an extensive knowledge of black gold and expertise in weapons, women, and Benjamins.Light sweet crude is the mother’s milk of the Niger Delta.As the price for each barrel of oil rises on the international markets and the stakes for securing the black gold increase, a consortium of American oil companies and the Central Intelligence Agency plot to secure the flow of the crude.In Africa, though, plans unravel as quickly as cheap socks, and promises between partners have the lifespan of a mayfly.Nathan, now a Dean at a small college in Massachusetts, is visited by his former mentor at the Agency, who offers him a blunt choice: either travel to the Dark Continent to lay the groundwork for the coup d'état, or condemn the woman who saved his life to a brutal execution.Out of options, he returns to Africa, where he discovers that the Agency plans to reward his services with an oil soaked grave.Assisted by a coterie of new and old allies, including a beautiful vor with a thirst for power and a yeshiva bocher with a fondness for Armani suits, as well as his own sharp intelligence, considerable wit, and substantial charm, Nathan parries the Agency, circumvents the consortium, and exacts his own vengeance. In doing so, he learns that his choice of friends is as important as his choice of enemies. I. THE DELTAIN THE COOL OF THE AFRICAN DAWNIn the cool of the African dawn, six armored Suburbans bulled through the sodden Delta jungle toward Bonny Island. In their wake, whirlwinds of red dirt billowed upward toward the crown canopy. Inside the vehicles, frigid air filtered the jungle stench of rot and decay. Felix Sanhedrin, a twenty-five-year veteran of covert operations in Africa and the Middle East, sat on the rear bench of the convoy’s second Suburban like Allan Quatermain returned to the Dark Continent. White linen slacks, a blue Oxford shirt, a silk ascot, and a freshly pressed, khaki bush jacket adorned his thin frame. A device more computer than chronometer rested on his left wrist. His felt slouch hat boasted a faux leopard-skin band, and his canvas jungle boots gleamed. A Glock 19 nested in a leather holster on his right hip.Sanhedrin’s new boots rested atop two green, canvas duffel bags stuffed withBenjamin Franklins, and he carried with him, like a talisman, the blessings of the Mandarins who guided the operations of the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia. Despite their stated policy to never negotiate with the enemies of the United States, Sanhedrin had convinced the éminences grises to ransom his assistant, Nathan Monsarrat, from the rebel group called Fighters Against Terror in Africa, or FATA.He issued orders like a young boy presenting Santa Claus with his Christmas list.“First rule: I’m in charge, and my word is law. Second rule: we take only Monsarrat with us. Final rule: my money’s bought your silence. Neither you nor your shooters nor your medics will speak of this mission to anyone. Never repeat, never. Capish, my new friend?”Next to Sanhedrin, Mark Palmer wore funereal black, a shooter’s vest, tee shirt,tactical pants, jungle boots, baseball cap, Nomex gloves, and sunglasses. Years beneath the African sun had braised his face and arms. He was clean shaven, and his hair was cut in a brown bristle. Military tattoos covered both his forearms, and blue veins latticed his knotted muscles. He carried an M4 rifle, a brace of Heckler and Koch P30 pistols in nylon holsters strapped to his thighs, a combat knife, commo gear, and four P30 magazines looped onto his belt. The shooter’s vest held extra M4 mags.He spoke with a soft, southern drawl. “Five by five, Mr. Scarnagh. No worries. We were never here.”Sanhedrin had declared himself to Palmer by his work name, Fineghan Scarnagh. He operated under the letters F and S, keeping with the monograms on his shirt cuffs. Felix and Fineghan. Sanhedrin and Scarnagh. “You should call me Fineghan. After all, we’re in the same line of work.”“What line of work would that be, if you don’t mind my asking?”“I’m an independent oil consultant. I work with firms in Africa. Occasionally in Russia. Often in the Middle East.”“Funny we haven’t met before, me being the chief of security for the biggest oil services company in Africa,” Palmer offered.Sanhedrin prided himself on his light touch. “I’m a traveling oil gun for hire.”Palmer smiled politely. “Have you worked with my company previously, Fineghan?”Sanhedrin admitted that he had not experienced the pleasure. “What about you, Mark? How’d you get into the oil business?”Palmer gestured toward the two men in the front of the Suburban. “We’re specialists—Frank, Joe, and me. We have skill sets that oil companies find attractive.”“Former army?” Sanhedrin asked, although he had memorized the personal history of every man and woman in the convoy.Shafts of golden sunlight as thin as reeds cast shadowed patterns on the hardscrabble road. Joe Marinelli drove the Suburban, while Frank Rollins navigated in the shotgun seat. They might have been clones of Palmer. They wore the same clothes and carried the same equipment, save each sported a mustache, closely trimmed beard, and hair plaited into a single braid, blonde for Rollins and brown for Marinelli.“Afghanistan, Iraq, Yemen, Somalia, Eritrea, South Sudan,” Palmer replied. “You name it, if it’s in the shit, we fought there.”“Rangers for Joe and me,” Rollins answered.“Scrolls, not tabs,” Marinelli added. “Mark was a Special Forces light bird. Compared to him, Frank and me are cub scouts.”Compliments bored Palmer. “Monsarrat also claimed to be an independent oil consultant. Like you, he worked in Africa, Russia, and the Middle East.”“You know him?” Sanhedrin inquired.“We met a few times in Abuja and Lagos. Port Harcourt, more often.”“It’s a small world, isn’t it?”Palmer recited his sums for Sanhedrin. “In my small world, people who claim to be independent oil consultants are usually CIA spooks. Not that I have anything against spooks, other than they can’t be trusted.”“I’m sorry for your hard times,” Sanhedrin commiserated, “although I’m not your usual independent oil consultant.”“Roger that,” Palmer agreed, “you carrying a Glock on your hip.”“It’s just window dressing,” Sanhedrin answered modestly. “Did you have problem cashing my check?”“Your payment sailed through the bank.”“Is it my couture that bothers you?”Palmer had attempted to trace the background of Fineghan Scarnagh. His head hurt from banging it against the maze of brick walls he had encountered. “Truthfully, I smell Agency all over you.”Sanhedrin brushed his fingertips across the holster. “My cologne upsets you?”In the front of the Suburban, Rollins and Marinelli eyed the dirt road for threats while listening hard to the conversation. Each bore scars from prior Langley operations.“In my experience,” Palmer continued, “when the Agency runs an operation, things usually turn south real fast, and the shit splatters everyone involved, save the boys and girls from Langley. So I’m only asking for confirmation.”“Confirmation of what, exactly?”Palmer exuded patience. “Confirmation this is Langley’s operation.”“Me? An Agency spy? Perish the thought!” Sanhedrin protested.Palmer’s distrust of the man next to him increased each time he uttered a sentence. “If you say so, Fineghan. What about Monsarrat?”“I have no clue,” Sanhedrin deadpanned. “We’ve never met.”In Palmer’s weltanschauung, the most dangerous spooks supplied the glibbest answers. “Yet, you’re here to ransom him from the rebels.”“Like I said, Mark, I’m a traveling oil gun for hire. I take the shit jobs nobody else wants or can pull off.”“You’re also a specialist?”“In my own area of operations.”Sanhedrin rubbed a smudge of dirt from the toe of his right boot against the driver’s seat. “Tell me about Monsarrat.”“He’s a big, smart, tough guy.”“It sounds like you were friends.”“I wouldn’t say friends,” Palmer corrected. “More like professional associates. I was sorry to hear the rebels took him from the oil rig, but until you called my bosses, I had no brief to go after him.”Sanhedrin appreciated men with military backgrounds. They accepted their roles without the sturm und drang civilians brought to operations. He prodded the conversation in a new direction. “How many shooters are you holding in reserve?”“A half dozen with the Blackhawks, a few miles from our destination. If the balloon goes up, they’ll ride to our rescue like Valkyries with rotors.”“Let’s hope none of us is headed for Valhalla,” Sanhedrin sniffed. I adore this book! M. A. Richards is a first-time author, but I rank CHOICE OF ENEMIES with the best novels of Martin Cruz Smith and Daniel Silva. The novel is written with passion, excitement, and knowledge – Richards certainly knows the dirty world of government and espionage. His pacing is taut, and his language is a joy to read. His sense of location is superb; I smelled the stench of oil in the Delta and felt the heat of the desert in Namibia. Most importantly, Nathan Monsarrat is one of the most likeable heroes I’ve met. When the novel ended (I read it in 48 hours), I was sad that the adventure was over but thrilled I had discovered Nathan Monsarrat. Also, Nathan’s antagonist, Felix Sanhedrin, is a delicious villain, a manipulative, dishonest, and neurotic full-bodied character. The relationship between Nathan and Felix is subtly drawn by Richards and is one of the most enjoyable aspects of this excellent novel. I grant it five stars and recommend it 100%! By Y. H. Park on January 19, 2016 AMAZON ~ GOODREADS M. A. Richards is the author of the Nathan Monsarrat international espionage novels.Born in Lowell, Massachusetts, he received his Bachelor of Arts degree in Theater Studies from Connecticut College and his Master of Arts degree in English from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst.During a career as a Cultural Attaché in the Department of State that spanned more than two decades, he served in Baghdad, Jerusalem, Lagos, Moscow, Seoul, Tel Aviv, and Washington, D.C. He also served at U.S. Pacific Command in Honolulu as the Special Advisor to the Commander. He speaks Arabic, Hebrew, Korean, and Russian.M. A. divides his time between Palm Beach and Tel Aviv, where he indulges his passions for motorcycles, photography, and archaeology.AMAZON ✯ WEBSITE ✯ FACEBOOK~PERSONAL ✯ FACEBOOK~AUTHOR ✯ GOODREADS ✯ TWITTER a Rafflecopter giveaway BLOGGER PARTICIPATION LIST FOR THIS TOUR

A More Perfect Union Series by Betty Bolté

A More Perfect Union Series by Betty Bolt é Genre: Historical Romance


Emily's VowRelease Date: October 4, 2014
Emily Sullivan's greatest fear is dying in childbirth, as did her twin sister and their mother. Then she's thrown in a loyalist prison for her privateering father's raids on the British, and her accuser—a former beau—promises to recant if she will marry him.

Frank Thomson always loved Emily despite her refusal to return his affections. A patriot spy posing as a loyalist officer, when Frank learns of Emily's plight, he challenges her accuser to a duel.

Freed from prison, Emily ponders returning the affections of her rescuer—the only man she's ever loved and who married her twin to save the Sullivan family's reputation. But Frank cannot afford to be discovered. For the sake of young America, he must deliver his secrets.

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Amy's ChoiceRelease Date: October 5, 2014
Without a goodbye, Amy Abernathy's childhood sweetheart, Benjamin Hanson, leaves to fight in the American War for Independence. Amy chooses to pick up the pieces of her heart and leave Charles Town to help her sister who is with child.

Benjamin knows he hurt Amy, but he plans to make it up to her after his mission is completed. Then he learns that Amy has been captured by renegade soldiers. Now Benjamin faces his own choice: free the sassy yet obstinate woman he's never stopped loving or protect Charles Town from vengeful British occupation.

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Samantha's SecretRelease Date: April 25, 2015


Midwife and healer, Samantha McAlester returns from the front lines to find Charles Town under British siege and the town's new doctor at war with its citizens.

Dr. Trent Cunningham intends to build a hospital staffed solely with educated doctors. What he doesn't need is a raven-haired charlatan spooning out herbs and false promises to his patients, while tempting him at every turn.

Then a mutual friend develops a mysterious infection. Trenton is stumped. Samantha suspects the cure but knows treatment will expose her long-guarded secret, risking all she holds dear... including Trenton.

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Evelyn's PromiseRelease Date: January 26, 2016
Determined to make her own way in the emerging United States of America, and live free of the dictates and demands of another husband, widow Evelyn Hamilton faces soaring post-war inflation as she struggles to provide for herself and her infant son.

Militiaman Nathaniel Williams is determined to make his fortune on the New Frontier. But during a visit to Charlestown, his heart is ensnared by a smart, beautiful widow, forcing Nathaniel to make the hardest decision of his life.

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Betty Bolté writes both historical and contemporary stories featuring strong, loving women and brave, compassionate men. No matter whether the stories are set in the past or the present, she loves to include a touch of the paranormal. In addition to her romantic fiction, she’s the author of several nonfiction books and earned a Master of Arts in English in 2008. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, and the Authors Guild. Get to know her at www.bettybolte.com.


                   

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