Aug 19

Silence in the Library Publishing Fall 2014 Releases

Silence in the Library has started a new Kickstarter and this one is gonna be huge!!!!!!!!

 

 Check out this video!!

 

The crew at Silence in the Library are eager to announce the pre-sale of our entire fall slate of brand new books from well-known authors Timothy Zahn and Jean Rabe and new-comer Megan O’Russell. Get early access and exclusive discounts only here on Kickstarter.

 

Look at everything you can get with this Kickstarter!!!

 

Cloak, an original techno-thriller by fan-favorite Timothy Zahn

LIBERTY UNDER ASSAULT

“There’s no other way?”

“If there was, we wouldn’t even be discussing this,” the general said, sternly throttling back a wave of impatience. “Our only other choice is to sit back, do nothing, and watch one man bring down the nation. To sit back and do nothing as the work of decades collapses into ruin. To let the lives of our founders be so much wasted sacrifice and blood. Because it will be. If he succeeds—if we let him succeed—there will be nothing left but chaos.”

The plan is already in motion. In ten days, the world will watch as a small group of patriots save the world from chaos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Cauldron, a near-past science fiction novel, the collaboration of New York Times Bestselling Star Trek author Gene DeWeese and USA Today Bestselling author Jean Rabe

The sight of the woman’s angry, tear-streaked face emerging from the mist wrenched a painful gasp from him… If he could remember her name, then surely everything else would fall into place.

Shelly?    Ellen?    Sarah?

But those names, appearing soundlessly in Carl Johnson’s cowering mind meant nothing to him except that they triggered waves of panic and sadness.

The line between life and death, the present and the past, becomes so transparent to Carl that his world is a miasma of memories bordering on madness. But he must make sense of it all if he is to save the world.

 

 

 

 

The Tethering, a YA fantasy from first-time author Megan O’Russell.

 

 

Add The Tethering to your Goodreads list at http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21480311-the-tethering?from_search=true

Follow Megan O’Russell on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/ORussellauthor or on Twitter @MeganORussell

For more great books and to follow The Tethering‘s journey to publication, be sure to visit my publisher’s website: http://www.silenceinthelibrarypublishing.com/

All sixteen-year-old Jacob Evans wants is to win the heart of Emilia Gray, but with order in the magical world crumbling, war threatening, and Emilia’s boyfriend living across the hall, he may never have the chance.

Jacob Evans loses everything he has ever known and is tossed into a world of magic. The Dragons, a group of rebel wizards, are threatening to expose the existence of magic to humans. Jacob is determined to find a way to fit into Emilia’s family, but as his powers grow, so does the danger. With the death toll mounting, Jacob is accused of acts of rebel terrorism and must fight to stay in a world he’s only just beginning to discover.

When Emilia’s life is threatened, Jacob must risk everything to save her. Does he have the power to rescue her in time? And what could their survival cost?

 

 

 

 

 

And if you get on board, you can get in on some great stretch goals!

Such as:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so much more!!!

Aug 17

Liberty Belle by Emily Ungar

Liberty Belle by Emily Ungar

Cover:

Trailer: Available from Youtube:http://youtu.be/DMo2A-LLCbQ

Blurb:

On the same day she turns twelve years old, Savannah moves away from everything she’s known in sweet, sunny Georgia to preppy Washington D.C. Not only will she miss her best friends Katie and Tessa, Savannah will start a new school. She soon discovers that her schoolmates love to brag—about their clothes, their parents’ governmental connections, and even who has the in with the school authorities.

Unhappy and lonely, Savannah decides if she can’t make life better, she can at least make it sound that way. Soon she is living in the childhood home of George Washington, riding in the limo of the vice president’s daughter, and even moving into the former Luxembourg embassy.

All is well until she learns that her true friends from Georgia are coming for a visit. Now Savannah must create the life she’s been talking about in her letters—and fast! Will Savannah find herself or lose her friends?

Release Date:

12th August 2014

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Liberty-Belle-Emily-Ungar-ebook/dp/B00MMZCR34

B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/liberty-belle-emily-ungar/1120079472?ean=2940046058567

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/455093

Book Links:

Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21802855-liberty-belle

Anaiah Press:http://www.anaiahpress.com

Author Bio:

Emily Ungar is a graduate of Indiana University, where she majored in journalism. After living in seven different U.S. states by the time she finished college, she now lives in Indianapolis, Indiana, with her husband and very curious twin toddlers. When she isn’t chasing after her twin boys, Emily loves to curl up in a chaise lounge with a book in one hand and a lemon cupcake in the other. Emily loves connecting with her readers, so she welcomes you to say hi on her blog at emilyungar.com.

Twitter: @emilyungar

Pinterest:http://www.pinterest.com/emilyungar/

Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/13863166-emily-ungar

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

 

 

Please note, this giveaway is only open to residents of the US
a Rafflecopter giveaway

When I first started writing LIBERTY BELLE in fall 2008, I had no idea that 4 years later, I’d be a mother to newborn twin sons. As Vincent can likely confirm, writing and querying take a backseat to cradling those precious swaddled bundles of joy!

 

My (now) husband and I spent countless weekends in 2008 perched on the worn leather sofas of the Mo’joe Coffee house in downtown Indianapolis. Before getting married and having twins, we spent hours drinking coffee and typing plot ideas on our laptops. I worked feverishly on LIBERTY BELLE as my husband crafted a screenplay. As fall turned to winter, we both worked our way up to final drafts. Before I started writing this book, my mind had been very busy brainstorming it for me in the back of my mind while I slept and tended to my day job. After much editing and swapping ideas, I was ready to query. I was so passionate about the concept (which was inspired by own childhood moving experiences) that I thought the road would be easy.

 

Not so much.

 

I had a lot of interest from agents about the project, but nothing quite manifested. It wasn’t the right time. I set the project aside. In the years to come, my husband and I continued to date. Our relationship turned to engagement to wedding to newlywed life to…life with our identical twin baby boys! Needless to say, life got hectic and even more wonderful, and the book remained, patiently waiting to be tended to again. Once my boys started consistently sleeping through the night at 9 months and I stopped going to bed every night at 9 pm., I turned back to writing. I had missed it so dearly. After entering a different project in the PitchWars mentor contest but not ultimately being matched with a mentor, I started talking with Jessica Schmeidler, who had seen my blog post and wanted to know more about my writing. The rest was a truly fairy tale. I sent a query to Jessica. Not only did she want to read more, she loved it! She asked for the full manuscript, and after a few weeks, I was offered a contract for publication. It was a writing dream come true. Editing with Jessica and the rest of the Anaiah team has been incredible. I didn’t know what to expect when I started querying, but among the many things I learned, the most important one is this–the right home for your book is a place where it will be loved and nurtured from the very beginning up until the very end. A book is indeed a “baby” in many ways and it needs special love and reassurance from everyone who chooses to be involved with the project. I am so grateful for all of the babies in my life–both my wonderful sons and my book babies alike.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Aug 13

Little Death by Roe Valentine!!!!!!!!!

Little Death banner
This is my stop during the blog tour for Little Death by Roe Valentine. This blog tour is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The blog tour runs from 4 till 17 August, you can view the complete tour schedule on the website of Lola’s Blog Tours

 

I’ve got an Interview with the lovely and talented Roe Valtentine about her very h-h-hot book and the scorching cover. So make sure you check that out.

Little Death coverLittle Death
By Roe Valentine

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Age category: Adult/Erotica
Release Date: 5 June, 2014

Blurb:
A grandiose ego pushes Mona MonDragon to pursue high school nerd turned gorgeous ballet dancer Ivan Boss. Unfortunately, her perceived sure-thing week of no-strings-attached sex isn’t so sure. Her ego takes a major hit when he not only rejects her but pretends he doesn’t know her. When she jumps through hoops to have him, she begins to question if what’s driving her to take such chances is something residual from childhood. Whether it is or not, all she knows is his wish is her desire.
Revenge drives Ivan Boss, and when the object of his hate comes back into his life after 10 years he battles the part of him that loves Mona with the part that wants her to pay for torturing him when he needed her most. The internal struggle heightens when he starts to see her as human, and he begins to question his ability to follow through with his ultimate revenge.

Little Death is a standalone novella with explicit language and sex with some light bondage. It has a Happily Ever After (HEA) ending.

You can find Little Death on Goodreads

You can buy Little Death here:
- Amazon (Kindle)
- Barnes & Noble
- Kobo
- Bookstrand

RoeAbout the Author:
Roe Valentine was born into the right family. Not only does the name Valentine suit her, but her grandmother, unknowingly, introduced the young Ms. Valentine to her first romance novel. She hasn’t read anything else since. She calls herself a romantic at heart and believes that love conquerors all.
The San Antonio native, who now lives in Houston, attempted to write her first contemporary romance novel when she was nineteen years old. That attempt didn’t take, but her story has a happy ending. She kept pursuing the dream until she landed her first publishing contract in 2013.
When not busy writing or reading love stories, Roe can often be found in a yoga class or chatting with friends at her favorite coffee shop. Enjoying margaritas with some girl-talk isn’t unusual for her either. For a night in, she watches reruns of her favorite TV shows and, of course, romantic comedies on her Roku, usually with a glass of wine.

1) Tell us about the book, going beyond the blurb.

 

This story is about rebuilding burned bridges. It’s about questioning ourselves and what we believe and how we let certain beliefs drive our future. The main characters have to really look at themselves, who and what they are. In that time of vulnerability, they can be brave enough to follow their hearts.

 

2) What was the inspiration behind Little Death?

It’s somewhat based off a ballet title Petit Morte, which beautifully portrays the duel of the sexes.

 

3) That’s a pretty hot cover? Is that what you were shooting for?

Yes! I picked the cover. Anything less hot would not have satisfied my vision. The story is explicit, raw and in your face at times. The cover needed to reflect that.

 

4) How hot does this read get?

Well, my publisher, Siren Bookstrand, classified it as “scorching”. So, this isn’t your grandma’s romance (or maybe it is ;) )

 

5) What will surprise us about the book?

Each of the characters are suffering both physically and mentally. They are able to find common ground with their physical ailments.

 

6) What can we expect from you next?

More hot reads!

 

 

Roe Valentine also LOVES talking to readers. You can contact her in the following ways:
- Website
- Facebook
- Twitter
- Goodreads
- E-mail: info@roevalentine.com

There is a tour wide giveaway for the blog tour of Little Death. You can win a 50$ amazon gift card!

Enter the rafflecopter below for a chance to win:
a Rafflecopter giveaway


Lola's Blog Tours

Aug 11

THE TENANT BY SOTIA LAZU – Blog Post!

 

banner

Book Title: The Tenant
Author: Sotia Lazu
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 55K
Release Date: 08.07.2014

ISBN: 978-1-62916-082-5


Purchase links: 

Taliesin Publishing: http://www.taliesinpublishing.com/the-tenant-by-sotia-lazu-p66.php

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/464564

AllRomance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetenant-1588143-149.html

 

Hi Vincent! I think you’re the only guy participating in this blog hop, and for that, this post is about writing a guy’s point of view.

 

 

What you have to know it that I’m never sure I’m doing it right!

 

Whenever I write a scene from a new male character’s POV, I have to run it by my husband. “Do men ever think like this?” I ask. (He usually says they do, which is a relief, but I still never know if he means it, or if he’s just trying to get me off his case.)

 

By the second scene, I usually have enough of a grasp on the character that he starts talking in my head. I avoid mentioning that to my nearest and dearest, of course.

 

Derek was a special case. When I decided to start writing The Tenant, I made the mistake of trying to force him to fit a mold that was ultimately wrong for him. He had cool one-liners, and was an asshole with a man of gold. Still made for fun reading material, but that wasn’t all he was.

 

I fortunately saw that, and stopped writing the story that way. I wanted to keep him to myself until he was completely formed in my head. He wasn’t supposed to be a hard shell around a marshmallow core. I wanted him to be the real kind of tough. To have gone through crap that helped build a stronger shield around his heart, but be true enough to himself that he wouldn’t back away from something just to avoid being vulnerable. I wanted him to be a jackass when he felt like it, but mostly remember the way he’d been brought up.

 

Ultimately, I wanted to write a man that could actually exist and be totally fall-in-loveable, and not one that could only exist in my fantasy.

 

I hope I managed.

The_Tenant-Sotia_Lazu-200x320Blurb

In hopes of getting her fiancé to consummate their relationship before the wedding, Amanda convinces him they should check out the apartment her father gave her as a gift for their upcoming nuptials. Darkness and privacy are supposed to work in her favor, but there is one parameter she doesn’t know about: the apartment is not empty yet, and the current tenant has no plans of moving.

Derek has had a hell of a few months. His girlfriend turned out to be a cheater and then stole his restaurant. He’s not about to also give up the place he’s called home for three years—even if his hot but infuriating landlady threatens to move in by the end of the week.

When her own lease is up, Amanda is forced to make good on her threat. As if life isn’t already hard enough, her tenant-turned-roommate is as sexy as he is annoying, and her fiancé is caught with a half-naked woman.

Now she and Derek need to find a way to survive their forced cohabitation. They soon discover sleeping with the enemy can be fun.

 

Excerpt

Hushed voices. There were people whispering inside his home, and—

Something crashed.

It might have been fury at whoever dared vandalize his home that drove his feet from bathroom to bedroom, naked as the day he was born. It could have been hope he’d finally get out some of his frustration that curled his fingers around the baseball bat lying beneath his bed and led him the rest of the distance to his living room in the pitch black.

Weighing the bat in one hand, he pressed the fingers of the other to the light switch he knew to be at his left, and took in the lit room.

A couple was making out on his floor. By his overturned table and his smashed lamp.

He scowled so hard his forehead hurt, but it was all he could do not to charge them and bash their heads in.

“What the fuck are you doing in my place?” he asked the kneeling hulk. He’d heard about people making out in parks, playgrounds, even cemeteries, but breaking into someone’s home to get some was unbelievable.

The small blonde lying on the floor sat upright, eyes blazing. “Your place? My father gave me this apartment!”

Her boyfriend simply blinked at him.

Was it Derek’s imagination, or was the blonde having a hard time looking him in the eye? He was tempted to mention his face was an entire torso—and then some—higher than what she was staring at, but his ego needed some stroking, so he let her take all of him in, while his mind caught up to what she’d just said.

“You’re Kenneth’s daughter?” he finally asked, the bat only slightly lowered. Alice’s sister. This one was shorter, and Alice dyed her hair dark brown these days, but Derek could see the resemblance.

She finally lifted her gaze to meet his, and her eyes were the same bright green as her sister’s. “You’re the guy who’s supposed to be gone?”

He could apologize and say he’d forgotten because of the rain of utter shit falling on him lately.

He could ask for a bit more time until he’d found a new place.

Or he could be an ass. Nobody else seemed to think twice about being an ass to him. “Hardly,” he said with a snort. “I’m supposed to be right where I am. You, on the other hand, are trespassing. Or is it breaking and entering?”

The young woman scrunched her nose, which was adorable in a snooty, bratty way. “No breaking. I’ve got a key.” She narrowed her eyes. “When Mason and I were first engaged, Dad said he asked you to move. That was three months ago.”

Mason. That was the silent brute’s name. “I remember no such thing, and” —he looked pointedly at the remains of his favorite lamp— “there has definitely been some breaking.”

Blondie bounced up and glared. Funny, but she was intimidating despite her small stature. Maybe that was why Mason stood back and let her handle things. “Dad bought the place for me, to begin with,” she said. “You knew when you first moved in that I was eventually going to be needing it.”

That was true. Derek had heard all about how this was one day going to be a wedding present for Kenneth’s oldest daughter—and what was her name, again?—though said daughter hadn’t even been dating back then. Kenneth said his daughter was picky and needed a man with serious backbone before she settled down.

Things had apparently changed.

Derek considered waving the bat to see if the big guy would flinch, but decided to be the bigger man—and wasn’t that ironic, when Mason had at least four inches on him? “Kenneth mentioned something, but he didn’t give me the sixty days notice he was supposed to.” Blondie opened her mouth, probably to repeat her father let him know three months ago. Now was time for the coup de grace, and Derek somehow knew he’d love watching her squirm. “As you know, the notice is supposed to be in writing or it doesn’t count,” he said.

And smirked.

And winked.

Mason grabbed Blondie’s shoulder, flexing his arm in the process. The look on his face indicated that Derek’s nudity might have offended him more than Derek’s intention to not vacate the premises for at least two more months. “Let’s go, Mandi.” Ah, that was her name. “We’ll talk to your father. He’ll know what to do.”

Her gaze said she knew what to do too, and it involved the painful insertion of the baseball bat in Derek’s most private orifice.

Derek’s smirk widened into a grin. “And now get out of here, before I have to call the police and report you for harassment on top of everything else.”

Mandi stared him down for a split second, but when Derek swung his bat in the air, her overly inflated toy boy all but dragged her out the door.

Derek propped his weapon on his shoulder, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and went to bed. He sensed his swagger had returned. Maybe that was because he’d actually felt he had balls, for the first time in days.

Odd way for his day to improve, but it had. He would give anything for another opportunity to bait Mandi Murphy. If he couldn’t torture the woman who’d hurt him, he’d torture the one who wanted to evict him. He had to be subtle about it, though. He didn’t want to make Kenneth mad at him.


About the AuthorPhoto 3-6-14 - 11 05 39

Sotia’s making do with Greek reality, while writing and mostly thinking in English.

She loves romances with a twist and urban fantasy novels, always with vivid erotic elements. Her favorite characters to write are not conventional hero-material at first glance, and she enjoys making them fight for their happiness.

Sotia shares her life and living quarters with her husband, their son, and two rescue dogs, one of which may be part-pony. Sappy movies make her bawl like a baby, and she wishes she could take in all the stray dogs in the world.

Also, she hates mornings!

Sotia’s books: Amazon | B & N | Smashwords | Apple | Kobo

Contact Sotia:

Website
Blog
Twitter
Goodreads

Or write to her at author@sotialazu.com

GIVEAWAY

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win an e-Book or some Author Swag!

NOTE: The giveaway is for Adults Only. Please do not enter if you’re below your country’s legal age.

WordPress won’t let me embed the Rafflecopter, so click on the link to open it in a new page.

>>a Rafflecopter giveaway<<

AND THAT’S NOT ALL!

For the next four days, you have the chance for several more entries. Just stop by the following blogs:

Date Blog Name
August 8th Gina Henning
August 8th Barbara Elsborg
August 9th The Naughty and Nice of Romance
August 9th Ana Blaze
August 9th Apathy’s Hero
August 10th Megan O’Russell
August 10th Blame It On The Muse
August 10th History in the Hot Lane
August 10th A Pen Named Brock
August 10th Diane Saxon Blog Spot
August 11th Tara Quan
August 11th Writery
August 11th Vincent Morrone
August 11th Daisy Banks Blog

Aug 07

THE TENANT BY SOTIA LAZU!!!!!!!

 

banner

Book Title: The Tenant
Author: Sotia Lazu
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 55K
Release Date: 08.07.2014

ISBN: 978-1-62916-082-5


Purchase links: 

Taliesin Publishing: http://www.taliesinpublishing.com/the-tenant-by-sotia-lazu-p66.php

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/464564

AllRomance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetenant-1588143-149.html

The_Tenant-Sotia_Lazu-200x320Blurb

In hopes of getting her fiancé to consummate their relationship before the wedding, Amanda convinces him they should check out the apartment her father gave her as a gift for their upcoming nuptials. Darkness and privacy are supposed to work in her favor, but there is one parameter she doesn’t know about: the apartment is not empty yet, and the current tenant has no plans of moving.

Derek has had a hell of a few months. His girlfriend turned out to be a cheater and then stole his restaurant. He’s not about to also give up the place he’s called home for three years—even if his hot but infuriating landlady threatens to move in by the end of the week.

When her own lease is up, Amanda is forced to make good on her threat. As if life isn’t already hard enough, her tenant-turned-roommate is as sexy as he is annoying, and her fiancé is caught with a half-naked woman.

Now she and Derek need to find a way to survive their forced cohabitation. They soon discover sleeping with the enemy can be fun.

 

Excerpt

Hushed voices. There were people whispering inside his home, and—

Something crashed.

It might have been fury at whoever dared vandalize his home that drove his feet from bathroom to bedroom, naked as the day he was born. It could have been hope he’d finally get out some of his frustration that curled his fingers around the baseball bat lying beneath his bed and led him the rest of the distance to his living room in the pitch black.

Weighing the bat in one hand, he pressed the fingers of the other to the light switch he knew to be at his left, and took in the lit room.

A couple was making out on his floor. By his overturned table and his smashed lamp.

He scowled so hard his forehead hurt, but it was all he could do not to charge them and bash their heads in.

“What the fuck are you doing in my place?” he asked the kneeling hulk. He’d heard about people making out in parks, playgrounds, even cemeteries, but breaking into someone’s home to get some was unbelievable.

The small blonde lying on the floor sat upright, eyes blazing. “Your place? My father gave me this apartment!”

Her boyfriend simply blinked at him.

Was it Derek’s imagination, or was the blonde having a hard time looking him in the eye? He was tempted to mention his face was an entire torso—and then some—higher than what she was staring at, but his ego needed some stroking, so he let her take all of him in, while his mind caught up to what she’d just said.

“You’re Kenneth’s daughter?” he finally asked, the bat only slightly lowered. Alice’s sister. This one was shorter, and Alice dyed her hair dark brown these days, but Derek could see the resemblance.

She finally lifted her gaze to meet his, and her eyes were the same bright green as her sister’s. “You’re the guy who’s supposed to be gone?”

He could apologize and say he’d forgotten because of the rain of utter shit falling on him lately.

He could ask for a bit more time until he’d found a new place.

Or he could be an ass. Nobody else seemed to think twice about being an ass to him. “Hardly,” he said with a snort. “I’m supposed to be right where I am. You, on the other hand, are trespassing. Or is it breaking and entering?”

The young woman scrunched her nose, which was adorable in a snooty, bratty way. “No breaking. I’ve got a key.” She narrowed her eyes. “When Mason and I were first engaged, Dad said he asked you to move. That was three months ago.”

Mason. That was the silent brute’s name. “I remember no such thing, and” —he looked pointedly at the remains of his favorite lamp— “there has definitely been some breaking.”

Blondie bounced up and glared. Funny, but she was intimidating despite her small stature. Maybe that was why Mason stood back and let her handle things. “Dad bought the place for me, to begin with,” she said. “You knew when you first moved in that I was eventually going to be needing it.”

That was true. Derek had heard all about how this was one day going to be a wedding present for Kenneth’s oldest daughter—and what was her name, again?—though said daughter hadn’t even been dating back then. Kenneth said his daughter was picky and needed a man with serious backbone before she settled down.

Things had apparently changed.

Derek considered waving the bat to see if the big guy would flinch, but decided to be the bigger man—and wasn’t that ironic, when Mason had at least four inches on him? “Kenneth mentioned something, but he didn’t give me the sixty days notice he was supposed to.” Blondie opened her mouth, probably to repeat her father let him know three months ago. Now was time for the coup de grace, and Derek somehow knew he’d love watching her squirm. “As you know, the notice is supposed to be in writing or it doesn’t count,” he said.

And smirked.

And winked.

Mason grabbed Blondie’s shoulder, flexing his arm in the process. The look on his face indicated that Derek’s nudity might have offended him more than Derek’s intention to not vacate the premises for at least two more months. “Let’s go, Mandi.” Ah, that was her name. “We’ll talk to your father. He’ll know what to do.”

Her gaze said she knew what to do too, and it involved the painful insertion of the baseball bat in Derek’s most private orifice.

Derek’s smirk widened into a grin. “And now get out of here, before I have to call the police and report you for harassment on top of everything else.”

Mandi stared him down for a split second, but when Derek swung his bat in the air, her overly inflated toy boy all but dragged her out the door.

Derek propped his weapon on his shoulder, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and went to bed. He sensed his swagger had returned. Maybe that was because he’d actually felt he had balls, for the first time in days.

Odd way for his day to improve, but it had. He would give anything for another opportunity to bait Mandi Murphy. If he couldn’t torture the woman who’d hurt him, he’d torture the one who wanted to evict him. He had to be subtle about it, though. He didn’t want to make Kenneth mad at him.


About the AuthorPhoto 3-6-14 - 11 05 39

Sotia’s making do with Greek reality, while writing and mostly thinking in English.

She loves romances with a twist and urban fantasy novels, always with vivid erotic elements. Her favorite characters to write are not conventional hero-material at first glance, and she enjoys making them fight for their happiness.

Sotia shares her life and living quarters with her husband, their son, and two rescue dogs, one of which may be part-pony. Sappy movies make her bawl like a baby, and she wishes she could take in all the stray dogs in the world.

Also, she hates mornings!

Sotia’s books: Amazon | B & N | Smashwords | Apple | Kobo

Contact Sotia:

Website
Blog
Twitter
Goodreads

Or write to her at author@sotialazu.com

 

ISBN: 978-1-62916-082-5


Purchase links: 

Taliesin Publishing: http://www.taliesinpublishing.com/the-tenant-by-sotia-lazu-p66.php

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/464564

AllRomance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetenant-1588143-149.html

GIVEAWAY

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win an e-Book or some Author Swag!

NOTE: The giveaway is for Adults Only. Please do not enter if you’re below your country’s legal age.

WordPress won’t let me embed the Rafflecopter, so click on the link to open it in a new page.

>>a Rafflecopter giveaway<<

AND THAT’S NOT ALL!

For the next four days, you have the chance for several more entries. Just stop by the following blogs:

Date Blog Name
August 8th Gina Henning
August 8th Barbara Elsborg
August 9th The Naughty and Nice of Romance
August 9th Ana Blaze
August 9th Apathy’s Hero
August 10th Megan O’Russell
August 10th Blame It On The Muse
August 10th History in the Hot Lane
August 10th A Pen Named Brock
August 10th Diane Saxon Blog Spot
August 11th Tara Quan
August 11th Writery
August 11th Vincent Morrone
August 11th Daisy Banks Blog

Aug 01

Forget Me Not by Stacey Nash Release Day Blitz!!!

Today, I’m taking part in the release blitz for Forget Me Not by Stacey Nash! Now I actually read this book in an earlier form, but that’s not gonna stop me from getting it and reading it again! (And again, and again!) This is one of those books that sticks to your ribs like a great dinner! And the author is one of my favorite peeps in the world! So get yourself ready for Stacey Nash, and don’t forget to get Forget Me Not! 

And PS, I can’t wait for that sequel!!

forget me not banner

Forget Me NotAbout Book One:

Forget Me Not by Stacey Nash

Genre: YA/Fantasy/Speculative Fiction

Published August 1st, 2014

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Forget-Me-Not-Stacey-Nash-ebook/dp/B00K1Q9NA6

 

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/forget-me-not-nash-stacey/1119538120?ean=9781460704004

 

 

Anamae is drawn into a world which shatters everything she knew to be true.

Since her mother vanished nine years ago, Anamae and her father have shared a quiet life. But when Anamae discovers a brooch identical to her mother’s favorite pendant, she unknowingly invites a slew of trouble into their world. They’re not just jewellery, they’re part of a highly developed technology capable of cloaking the human form. Triggering the jewellery’s power attracts the attention of a secret society determined to confiscate the device – and silence everyone who is aware of its existence. Anamae knows too much, and now she’s Enemy Number One.

She’s forced to leave her father behind when she’s taken in by a group determined to keep her safe. Here Anamae searches for answers about this hidden world. With her father kidnapped and her own life on the line, Anamae must decide if saving her dad is worth risking her new friends’ lives. No matter what she does, somebody is going to get hurt.

Remember MeAbout Book Two:

Remember Me by Stacey Nash

Genre: YA/Fantasy/Speculative Fiction

Published October 1st, 2014

When all is lost, she must remember…

Anamae Gilbert managed to thwart The Collective and rescue her father, even though his mind is now a shell. Determined to stop Councilor Manvyke hurting her family again, she’s training to become an active resistance member and enjoying a growing romance. But things never sail along smoothly – Manvyke wants retribution. And Anamae’s name is high on his list.

After a blow to the head, she awakes in an unfamiliar location. Anamae can’t remember the last few weeks and she can’t believe the fascinating new technology she’s seeing. She’s the new kid at school and weapons training comes with ease, but something feels off. Why does the other new kid’s smile make her heart ache?

And why does she get the feeling these people are deadly?

 

About the Author:

stacey nash

Stacey Nash writes adventure filled stories for Young Adults in the Science Fiction and Fantasy genres. When her head isn’t stuck in a fictional world, she calls the Hunter Valley of New South Wales home. It is an area nestled between mountains and vineyards, full of history and culture that all comes together to create an abundance of writing inspiration. Stacey loves nothing more than writing when inspiration strikes.

HarperCollins: http://www.harpercollins.com.au/authors/50061696/Stacey_Nash/index.aspx

Website: http://www.stacey-nash.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/staceynash

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/staceylnash/

Instagram: http://instagram.com/stace_nash

Pre-order buy links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Forget-Me-Not-Stacey-Nash-ebook/dp/B00K1Q9NA6 &http://www.amazon.com/Remember-Me-Stacey-Nash-ebook/dp/B00K1Q9N5G

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/forget-me-not/id881490143?mt=11 &https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/remember-me/id881501730?mt=11

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/search?q=9781460704004+&c=books

Read below for an excerpt from Forget Me Not by Stacey Nash:

Chapter 1

 

It’s not getting any easier to tell my mother what’s happened, what she’s missed, what’s been going on in my life. It’s not getting any easier to survive each day without her. It’s not getting any easier to think of her and not cry. Elbow on my writing desk and chin cupped in my hand, I stare at the yellow notepaper. The lines across it are as empty as my pounding head. The spot where the tip of my favorite pen touches is marked by a growing dot, evidence that there are no right words.

It’s sure as heck not getting any easier.

Hoping to find inspiration, I glance at the photo waiting to be slipped into the envelope with this letter. Normally I put aside a nature shot for her, but this one’s a ‘selfie’ of me and Will. His sandy hair looks kind of messy the way it falls into his bright eyes, and his arm, resting over my shoulders so naturally, pulls us close together. Our grins say more than words ever can.

Twirling the pen between my fingers, I gaze out the window at the soft autumn afternoon and daydream about what to write. A distant clang like metal against metal sounds from outside. Will must be at it again. I shoot up, lean over the desk, and raise the window, letting a rush of warm air brush my face.

His jean clad legs stick out from under the hood of a beat-up car parked in their yard.

That car is like a full time job, he works on it so often now. He backs out and hoists a motor, or something, onto his shoulder, lifting like it weighs no more than his kid sister. He looks up, catches me watching him, and grins. I wave and, with a sigh, plonk back into the chair, dropping my gaze to the blank sheet in front of me. I really want to write her.

For nine years I’ve been writing these letters and placing them in my top drawer with a photo. It’s become a yearly tradition. At least if we ever find Mom, she’ll know what my life’s been like.

Nothing comes to me. None of the thoughts ambling through my mind are quite right, so I drop the pen, pinch my lips together, and tap my fingers on the desk in a sharp rhythm that cuts through my aching head. I need the right words.

I last saw her on an ordinary March school day the year I was eight. She packed my lunch, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and waved goodbye. I climbed into the bus. As she stood on the curb, she didn’t look happy or sad, scared or frightened—just the same as any other day.

Heaviness squeezes my chest and makes each inhalation of breath hurt. I’ve played that day back in my mind over and over, analyzed every detail: her wave, her smile, her words, her haunted look. Did she know it was goodbye?

Not knowing leaves a complete emptiness inside me. Knowing if she’s alive or dead, or why she hasn’t come back would make it so much easier. Especially since Dad barely mentions her anymore, and no matter how many times I turn her photos around, they continue to spin and face the wall. I guess it’s just too hard for him.

I shake my head in an effort to expel the memories, but it’s no use. The lines on the paper blur, my eyes slide shut, and it hurts too much. I can’t do this right now. Grabbing my camera off the desk, I slam the window shut and run down the stairs, shouting to Dad, “I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Wait. Can you grab milk?”

He walks out of the kitchen, a five dollar bill pinched between his fingers. I pluck it from his outstretched hand and turn to leave, but his hand closes over my shoulder, spinning me around. “Everything okay?”

I close my eyes and expel a long breath. He won’t want to hear it, so there’s no point sharing. “I miss her, too.”

He pulls me into his chest, and it’s too much. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I throw my arms around him, holding him as tight as I can while he runs a hand over my head. “Sweetheart.”

I cling to him. “It’s just…”

“I know.”

He holds me for a long time, until my tears stop. When I pull away, I rub the telltale streaks from my cheeks, and shove the money in my pocket. “Milk, right?”

He nods, and I turn for the door. “Anamae,” he says, “I love you, kid.”

A weak smile raises my lips. “Love you, too.”

Outside, I head straight to the white picket fence separating our yard from Will’s. He’s been my best friend since he moved here in the sixth grade, and I’m so grateful his parents decided quiet suburbia was a better place to live than the inner city. I slap my hands onto the flat tips and stretch over, calling, “Will.”

He peers around the corner of the house, and the sight of his smile is enough to rattle this awful mood.

“Sure. Two minutes.”

Fishing for weeds in the garden occupies the time while I wait. The Averys have the nicest yard on our street. A perfectly manicured lawn complete with stone statues and spiky plants in white pebble gardens. Will’s mom likes being fashionable and modern, obvious from the gravel now crunching under his feet. Appearances aren’t important. Sure it’s nice to look good, but it’s not the thing that matters most. That’s one of the things she just doesn’t get about me. I always wear faded jeans and comfy t-shirts, yet she constantly tries to dress me up. Make me look like a girl. Still, she’s been like a second mom to me. She even gave me The Talk. I just about died when I realized what was happening.

Will’s coming. “Hi, Mae.”

“Hey.” I grin. Love it when he shortens my name.

We stroll down our wide path and turn onto the next street. It’s only a few blocks from our street to a small cluster of shops. The short walk, fresh air, and Will’s banter help lighten my mood. The cafe comes into sight, and I grab his hand, dragging him across the road toward another storefront—an old shop. Aqua paint peels off the brick walls around huge glass windows, and two stories rise up above us. Like all the shops on this street, a big tin awning slants out over the pavement, and a balcony juts out above. Albert’s Second-Hand Treasures emblazons a window spanning the shop’s front. Through the window piles of odd stuff are visible, cluttering the inside. According to the kids at school, it’s evidence the old man who owns the store is a little unhinged, which earns this place the nickname, Crazy Al’s. But to me, it’s far more than that. ‘Crazy Al’s’ been a part of my life almost as long Will.

“Bet you can’t find the weirdest one today,” I say.

Will raises his brows and shoots me a look that says ‘you’re insane.’ “Really, this old game? I thought you wanted to get coffee.”

“Oh, come on. I need some childish fun.” I lean in toward him an smile. “Bet you can’t win.”

I also need to see Al, not to talk… just see him. His grandfatherly ways might make me feel better.

I drag Will toward the front door, and all the while he shakes his head and scuffs his heels. “Okay, but loser buys coffee,” he finally says, “and cake.”

He pushes me through the door, making the bell overhead jingle. As he heads toward a large table in the far corner of the shop, a small smile crosses my lips. Glancing toward the counter, I stop at a long bench and paw through ancient yellowing books and old jewelry scattering it in a disorganized mess. I’ve no idea how Al even knows what’s here.

Al raises his white-grey frizzy-haired head from the newspaper sprawled on the glass counter. His bushy eyebrows lift, and he throws me a warm smile which somehow makes me feel a little better.

Running my hand over the ‘treasures,’ I stop at a ceramic owl perched amongst the clutter on the table. When I turn it over in my hand, chubby little claws grip the sides of a skateboard. I hold it up so Will can see it. “Check this out.”

“A skating owl?” Will laughs. “I can top that.”

He holds up a book with the title Peanuts in Love. On the cover two peanuts hold hands, their cute little shell bodies in a sea of pink hearts.

“Not good enough.” I scan the table looking for something better and spot a pile of old movies scattered over the next table. I move them aside one by one, looking for a good title. Sunlight dances across the table and glints off something shiny. A blue flower with a yellow center. My heart jumps, the only part of me still moving. It can’t be. Surely Dad didn’t pawn it or give it to Al. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It can’t possibly have been made into something else.

A small noise of surprise escapes my lax mouth, and a memory flashes into my mind: the pendant lying on Mom’s pillow the day she disappeared.

Will chuckles from the corner. I drag my gaze away from the flower brooch to see a bright pink pith hat sitting atop his sandy head. He eyes my open palm, which now holds the brooch. “You call that weird?”

I run my fingers over the cool glazed metal, and a lump grows in my throat. “It’s the same as the forget-me-not pendant Mom always wore.”

Not missing a beat, he raises his voice toward the back of the shop. “How much?”

Al pauses in his perusal of the paper, two fingertips touching his tongue as if to dampen them as he flicks a page over. His bushy eyebrows lift, and he clears his throat.

“Gosh, lad, for that?” I hold up the brooch, and Al squints at it. “It’s for Mae?” He smiles at me.

“Yep.” Will pulls his wallet out, and empties the coins into his cupped hand.

“Nothing,” Al says, then flicks his gaze to me. “Tell your Dad poker’s on tomorrow night. All the boys are coming.”

I return his smile with a nod. “Sure thing, Al.”

“Take care, Mae.” He doesn’t mention today’s Mom’s anniversary—the day she disappeared, but he doesn’t have to. Even though he never knew her, I’ve always suspected it’s why he took me and Dad under his wing. Especially after Nan died; her death upended the last slither of normalcy we had.

“No refunds….” Al says.

“Without magic,” I chime in on his usual farewell. No wonder people think he’s crazy, since he’s always saying stupid things. A sign hangs on the wall above the counter mimicking his words. No refunds without magic.

We walk out the door, and the bell jingles. “You owe me cake,” Will says.

“I do not. The brooch won.”

“No way, the peanuts definitely—”

“The peanuts did not beat the skating owl,” I say, and we both laugh.

I want to go home. I want to go straight to mom’s pendant. I want to compare it to this brooch, but I promised Will cake and coffee. He’d understand, but it wouldn’t be fair after dragging him out here. Although it makes me a little impatient, I’ll wait.

~*~

After hanging out with Will, I climb the stairs into the rarely used, cold, dark attic. Goose bumps prickle my arms with each step. This place is so eerie. Holding my hand out, I grope around in the dark until it closes around the cord for the light switch. A sharp tug illuminates the room with a soft glow which highlights the dust floating in the air. Pressure grows in my nose, and I hold my breath to suppress a building sneeze.

A corner of the chest which holds all my mother’s most precious possessions peeks out from behind cardboard boxes. I need to see the pendant and make sure it hasn’t somehow been altered and made into this brooch. Something so precious to her can’t be lost. A wooden creaking noise makes me spin around so fast my neck kinks, but the entry is empty. Phew. If Dad catches me up here… don’t think about it. He won’t know, as long as the driveway stays empty of his car, I’m safe.

A tight knot grows in my chest, anyway. An image of Mom running her thumb over the charm she wore everyday lingers in my mind.

I ease open the lid of the chest. Love letters, a few small items of jewelry, and other precious odds and ends rest on top of a discolored wedding dress, as if every last item was placed in here with care. Dust and the smell of moth balls make my nose twitch and finally bring on the sneeze.

Blue fabric, the same color as the brooch, peeps out between a stack of old envelopes. I slide it out of the bunch with care and peel back the fabric, my fingers slipping on the soft, smooth silk. My breath catches at the sight of my mother’s pendant.

My memories of it remained unchanged by time. It’s exactly as I recall. Five blue petals come to a yellow center, creating the shape of a forget-me-not flower. The pendant hangs on a long chain with shiny, silver looped links.

The sight of it brings back so many memories. The only time I ever saw my parents fight… Mom shouted so loud I covered my ears, and Dad responded in a low emotionless voice. Young and scared, I hid in the curtains while she screamed. Her last words were punctuated by her yanking the pendant off and tossing it across the room. Dad scooped it up, crossed the room in long strides and pulled her to him. His fingers traced the edge of her face before he kissed her. He lowered the pendant over her head, and the angry lines on her face melted into a smile. It’s not exactly a good memory, but it was her.

Now, I find myself smiling, too. Surely he won’t mind if I wear it. Something so precious to her shouldn’t be left to rust in the attic. I’m almost certain she’d want me to have it, so I slide the pendant into my pocket with the brooch and pack the other contents of the box away.

Easing the door closed, I climb out of the attic and head to the bathroom to clean my dust-covered hands. Water rushes from the spout and splashes against the sides as the basin fills. A reflection of me stares back at me from the mirror, my dirty hand clutching my aching chest. Today everything feels so raw, open, and fresh, like it only just happened. She should still be here.

Rubbing my hands clean, I delve into my pocket for the jewelry. Bringing it to my collar, I pin the brooch into my blouse. The hard edges prick my skin. My thumb brushes over the smooth, round sides of the pendant and when I pull it over my head, the chain catches on my hair. After I twist it through the tangle so it finally falls cool against my skin, it nestles in the hollow of my throat. I pick it up between my fingers and with reverent slow strokes, rub my thumb over the shiny yellow center—the pendant Mom never took off.

A shiver shoots up my spine and out through my limbs like an electric current, zapping every cell, every fiber, every part of my being. Walking on graves, that’s what Mom would have said. Maybe it’s an omen about her.

I plant my palms on either side of the full basin and peer into the still water, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. The water reflects only the cream ceiling. That can’t be right. I do a double take.

My chest tightens. I hold my hand up, but I can’t see it—not my arm, not my chewed fingernails, not my leather watch on my wrist. Where am I? Mouth gaping, I look into the mirror again, but I see nothing.

Not even my face.

I dip my finger into the warm, reflection-free water. Circles ripple in ever growing rings, but there’s no image. My gaze flits to the mirror, but I see only the open door. I have no reflection.

My stomach flutters like a thousand butterflies are trying to escape it. I slap my palm onto my chest, and I can still feel me. I must be here. When I slide the pendant over my head, my reflection blinks onto the mirror. Huh? Pulling it back on, my hand brushes the cool metal. The ripple goes through me again. I look into the mirror, and once more my reflection’s gone.

I grab my hairbrush from the drawer and wave it around in the air, but its image isn’t cast in the mirror either. It has to be magic, but that’s only in fairytales. Will’s not going to believe this, not in a million years. I pull the pendant over my head and my reflection returns. No way. It can’t be, but it is. I’m almost certain it’s making me invisible, but how?

I put it on—invisible. Take it off—visible.

It doesn’t make any sense. How can something like this—like those video games Will plays—even exist? It must be a magical artifact or some kind of prank. My shoulders shake with a chuckle while I stare at myself in the mirror. This is unreal. I bet he’s gone right back to working on his car. He’ll love this. Ha! Now let’s see who found the weirdest treasure. I slide it back on and wipe my damp hands on my jeans. Watch out Will, I’m going to sneak up and scare the life right out of you.

A sharp rap, someone knocking on the front door, echoes up the stairs. I duck into my room, unpin the brooch, and place both forget-me-nots in the jewelry box on my dresser. The rap sounds again. “Coming.” I bound down the stairs, through the living room, and yank the door open.

A man in blue overalls carrying a toolbox holds a yellow box-like thing snug in his palm. “My name is Thomas. I’m from the East Coast Natural Gas Company. There’s been a gas leak reported in this area, so I need to check the levels in your home. It won’t take a minute.”

A green flame and fancy words, the logo for East Coast Natural Gas, are embroidered on his loose, navy overalls. He’s legit, so I unlock the screen and pull it open, letting him inside.

“Sure.”

The man’s gaze meets mine as he walks past me, into the living room. He scratches his head of close-cropped dark hair, and moves his hand to his chin, rubbing it along the shadow of facial hair lining his jaw.

I scrape my palm across my forehead, suddenly recalling my recent vanishing act. He spoke first. I must be visible again. Phew.  I didn’t forget to take it off.

“Ignore the mess,” I say.

He holds the yellow gas meter out in front of him, his eyes never leaving the small flashing green light. He walks in straight lines across the living room. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tap my foot. Hurry up. I’ve got a neat trick to show off.

He nears the base of the stairs and the green light flicks to red. His pace quickens, and he strides up the steps two at a time. I rush up behind him. “What is it?”

The gas meter beeps when he reaches the top of the staircase. Coming upstairs seems kind of strange. I mean, surely gas leaks would have to be a kitchen thing. The beeping sets my teeth on edge, and I just want it to stop. Maybe there’s something wrong, but here in the upstairs hall?

“That doesn’t sound good,” I mutter.

“It means there is indeed…”

He twists, angling himself toward my open bedroom door, and his gaze locks on my dresser. The back of my neck prickles, a sure sign something about this just isn’t right. I step past him and pull the door closed, but he pushes me aside and slams it open. Panic shoots through me, but I’m fast enough to dart around him. Turning my shoulder and reaching for the box.

He lunges toward me, grabs me from behind, and his arm pins my neck to him with a shoulder crushing grip. He pushes me against the dresser, and the box falls open, its contents spilling across the top. Heart pounding, my throat burns with a scream. I’ve got to get him out of here. He must know about my pendant, the brooch. Dammit. I wriggle to escape his vice-like grip, but it’s no use—he’s too strong.

My hand darts toward the pendant. I snatch it, but he grabs my wrist. Adrenaline tries to pound my heart right out of its home in my chest. If only I can get the jewelry on, I might be able to make its magic work and hide.

“Tech breech confirmed,” he speaks into his collar in a matter-of-fact tone; then he turns his gaze to me. “Give me the pendant.”

There’s a tiny ripping sound, like Velcro torn open.

A young guy in a black leather jacket flickers into my bedroom. A sharp gasp leaves me. I can’t escape one attacker, let alone two.

Where the heck are these men coming from? I’m not going down without a fight, so I kick at my captor’s shins. The leather jacket guy wrenches the man’s grip from my shoulders and punches him square in the chin, knocking his head to the side. Shaking his head, the gas man stumbles backward.

The jacket guy raises his knee and drives a foot into the other man’s stomach. The straight, hard kick makes a loud thud and forces the dude to double over and curl in on himself. The leather jacket guy crouches and drives his fist straight up into the man’s chin. It knocks him flat on his back like a felled tree.

My chest rises and falls with my quickened breath. My heart thuds like a booming drum.

The mysterious rescuer turns toward me, holding my gaze with intense, steady jade eyes. He grabs my assailant by the arm, and they both flicker out of my room.

My mind spins.

Legs, arms, body—I can’t move, but it doesn’t matter. Moving is the least of my worries.

Who were they, and what just happened? The meter seemed to lead him straight to Mom’s pendant. Gas man, my ass.

I clutch my head in an attempt to stop my mind spinning, but my hand slides off my sweaty forehead and falls against my tightened stomach. They might come back. The guy in the jacket…

What was that? The brooch, the pendant…my disappearing reflection. They wanted it. Damn.

Sweat trickles down my forehead and into my eyes. I wipe it away with a trembling hand. Questions hurtle through my mind, all jumbling together as they race faster and faster in my mind. Seconds, minutes, hours I don’t know, but a single thought emerges through the haze of my mind.

Will.

 

The Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Jul 31

Summer in Sweetwater County by Ciara Knight!!!!!



Title: Summer in Sweetwater County

Author: Ciara Knight

Publication: July 31, 2014

Synopsis

Rose Burton yearns to cut a strangling parental leash. After being diagnosed with diabetes, she hashes out a plan to graduate early so she can attend the University of Tennessee with the love of her life, Marcus Vega.

 

Marcus is a young man from the wrong side of the creek. After beating his addiction, he devotes himself to becoming a physician and earning the right to love Rose Burton. But devotion can’t erase the past. When he’s accused of being involved in a gang shooting, he risks everything to prove his innocence and protect the ones he loves.

Excerpt
Marcus
pulled down the long, winding, tree-covered driveway to the colonial-style
brick house. His 1979 Camaro sputtered and clanked to a stop on the pavers of
the half-circle drive at the front of the house, making him cringe.
“Thanks for a lovely picnic.”
Rose smiled, her bright-white teeth a contrast to her shiny, plump lips and
strawberry-blond hair.
He slid the gearshift
into park and rested his arm on the
back of her seat. “The pleasure was all mine.”
She playfully smacked
his shoulder then sagged into his chest, kissing him. The smell of fresh lilacs
filled his senses and he slid his hand down the back of her soft dress, raking
his fingers down the zipper.
With a sigh, she sat
back in her seat. “I’ll miss you tonight.”
“I’ll miss you, too. Text
me later.”
Rose’s eyes glistened
with mischief. “I’ll let you know when I finish. Then you can sneak over and
climb that trellis to my bedroom.”
Marcus tilted his head.
“Yeah, that’ll go over well. Your father would not only kill me, he’d hack me
to pieces and feed me to large coyotes in the middle of the woods so there
wouldn’t be any evidence.” He clutched the back of her neck and nudged her to
him. “But he’s not home right now.”
“Actually, he is.” It
wasn’t her sweet whispers that provoked the terror that flashed through him. It
was the meaning of her words.
He shot up and looked
straight ahead. There, on the front steps, stood Mr. Burton staring down at
them, arms crossed, brow furrowed.
“Guess I better go. I’m
totally busted.” She winked and stole a quick kiss. “It was worth it, though.”
Rose jumped out of the car and, with her head bowed, ran past her father.
He didn’t spare her a
glance, just marched toward Marcus.
Marcus gripped the
gearshift and contemplated tearing out of there, but if there was one thing
he’d never be, it was a coward. If Mr. Burton wanted to have words, he’d have
them. He shoved the car door open and stood eye-to-eye with the man.
Mr. Burton’s hair had
grayed around the temple, and his body had softened, but the man still commanded
respect. “We need to talk.” He scanned Marcus then the car. “My daughter wasn’t
supposed to be out with you today. Did you know that?”
Marcus refused to show
his anger at the man’s mocking tone. “Yes, I’m aware. Rose told me.”
“Yet, you took her to God-knows-where
anyway? You need to listen to me and stay away from my daughter.”
“Or what?” Marcus
regretted his words, but this man always brought out the worst in him. “Are you
going to have my dad fired? Oh wait, you already did that.”
“Your father’s a drunk
and I can’t have a man I can’t trust running operations in one of my
companies.”
Marcus shoved his hands
in his front pockets to hide his clenched fists. “Maybe so, but I’m not my
father and you can’t have me fired. You already tried, remember?”
“How you have so many
people in this town convinced you’re not the reject addict we both know you to
be, I’m not sure, but—”
“Listen, Mr. Burton.
I’m not going to get into this with you. You have an opinion of me that I’ll
never be able to change, but you might want to reconsider ordering your
daughter around or you’ll find yourself losing her.”
“To who? You?”
Marcus didn’t answer,
knowing the man wouldn’t listen. Instead, he opened the car door.
“You’re eighteen,
right? If you touch my daughter, I’ll have you arrested for statutory rape.”
Marcus clutched the
doorframe. The thought of ever harming Rose boiled his blood, but the sound of
that word infuriated him. “I’d never disrespect Rose. And I’ve done nothing to
make you distrust me.”
“Oh? So help me, I’ll
catch you one of these days and then have you put away. And even if I don’t,
the rumors will spread and you’ll be ostracized from this town. No one wants to
be around a sexual deviant. Besides, with your father—”
“Enough. You’ve made
your point. I won’t come around your house anymore, I can promise you that.”
“Good.” Mr. Burton
turned on his heel. “It’s about time you wised up.”
Marcus slid one foot
onto the car mat then said, “But if she comes to me, I won’t turn her away.”
With a quick slam of the door, he shoved the gearshift into drive and left the high-browed,
judgmental corporate tycoon behind.
Author Bio
Ciara Knight writes to ‘Defy the Dark’ with
speculative fiction books. Her Amazon #1 bestselling series, The Neumarian
Chronicles has received acclaimed reviews and awards. Escapement, book I, is a
Rone award nominee and Pendulum, book
II, scored 4 stars from RT Book Reviews, accolades from
InD’Tale Magazine, received a Night Owl Top Pick and is a Rone award finalist.
Her young adult paranormal series, Battle for Souls, received 5 stars from
Paranormal Romance Guild, is a Night Owl’s Top Pick and won Book of the Month
at Long and Short Reviews.
When not writing, she enjoys reading all types of fiction. Some
great literary influences in her life include Edgar Allen Poe, Shakespeare,
Francine Rivers and J K Rowling.
Her first love, besides her family, reading, and writing, is
travel. She’s backpacked through Europe, visited orphanages in China, and
landed in a helicopter on a glacier in Alaska.
Ciara is extremely sociable and can be found at Facebook
@ciaraknightwrites, Twitter @ciaratknight, Goodreads, Pinterest, and her
website ciaraknight.com.

Jul 29

Release Blast for JC Nelson’s Free Agent.

Today, I’m taking part in the release blast for JC Nelson’s Free Agent. I haven’t read this one, but I gotta tell you it looks right up my alley and I think I just may pick it up!!!

And check out the great post after the contest by JC herself!!

When it comes to crafting happily-ever-afters, the Agency is the best in the land of Kingdom. The Fairy Godfather Grimm can solve any problem—from eliminating imps to finding prince charming—as long as you can pay the price…

Working for Grimm isn’t Marissa Locks’s dream job. But when your parents trade you to a Fairy Godfather for a miracle, you don’t have many career options. To pay off her parents’ debt and earn her freedom, Marissa must do whatever Grimm asks, no matter what fairy-tale fiasco she’s called on to deal with.

Setting up a second-rate princess with a first-class prince is just another day at the office. But when the matchmaking goes wrong, Marissa and Grimm find themselves in a bigger magical muddle than ever before. Not only has the prince gone missing, but the Fae are gearing up to attack Kingdom, and a new Fairy Godmother is sniffing around Grimm’s turf, threatening Marissa with the one thing she can’t resist: her heart’s wishes.

Now Marissa will have to take on Fairies, Fae, dragons, and princesses to save the realm—or give up any hope of ever getting her happy ending…

 

Bio:

A Texas transplant to the Pacific Northwest, JC Nelson lives with a family and a flock of chickens near rainy Seattle.

 

Media Links for JC Nelson:

Twitter: www.twitter.com/authorjcnelson

Face book: www.facebook.com/authorjcnelson

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7798544.J_C_Nelson

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/authorjcnelson

 

Free Agent on GoodReads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20650531-free-agent

 

Buy Free Agent Now:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0425272672/

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/free-agent-j-c-nelson/1118329714

 

Sample Chapter:

One

The New Year’s Eve countdown told me I had five minutes until the ball drop. That gave me six minutes until somebody got killed. I spotted the shoplifter in line at the theater and worked my way across the street, through the teeming crowd. She had no idea what she was wearing, which made her both stupid and dangerous. Stupid was dangerous enough by itself.

“Marissa, I might remind you of the time,” said a man’s voice. It came right out of the store window beside me, the dry voice with its not-quite-English accent. He watched me with critical eyes.

“I got it, Grimm.” I walked along the theater line, head down.

His image followed me, reflecting from the windows and even the brass banister knobs that held the velvet rope. “I’ll believe that when you actually do.”

Call it women’s intuition, or maybe the slippers she wore tipped her off, but the shoplifter turned and looked right at me. Our eyes met, and she knew why I was there, if not who I was. As the crowd surged forward, she ducked into the theater, disappearing into the throng.

“God Damsel-it.” I spat out the faint taste of soap. “Doesn’t count, not a real curse.”

“Watch your language, young lady. Only proper women live happily ever after. Now, go get those slippers back.” Grimm appeared in the ticket window, beckoning me on.

If I had enough Glitter to buy a happily ever after, I wouldn’t have spent all day chasing a thief. There were easier ways to make a living, and definitely safer ways.

I breathed in the warm lobby air, laced with enough butter, fat, and salt to make me gain a couple of pounds just from walking through.

The ticket man watched me as I approached, jiggling my leg. “I’ve got to go. Could you save my spot in line?”

He rolled his eyes, the apex of teenage angst, and motioned me past. I’d been to my fair share of balls and knew where I’d go if I had a pair of shoes that were killing my feet. I headed straight to the bathroom. Nobody in the prep area, but I listened. There, soft sobbing, and the click of high heels on ceramic.

“The slippers won’t come off like that.” I hoped I wasn’t talking to a Grandma, but the sobbing cut off.

Grimm coalesced into the mirrored wall, his white hair framing the bald spot on his head. He looked at me over horn-rimmed glasses that masked eyebrows like a yeti’s. “Marissa, two minutes.”

If I’d had something handy, I’d have thrown it at the mirror. In the name of not having a magical disaster, I decided to commit the cardinal sin of the ladies room. I tried the stall door. As my hand touched it, the door burst open, hitting me in the face. Pain made the world flash white. I put my hand to my nose and felt the blood as she dashed out of the restroom. Grimm told me the shoes were enchanted, but the fact that she could run in three-inch heels meant serious magic. Now I knew I had the right girl. In the lobby, the fire alarms wailed as I came out of the bathroom, and I caught a glimpse of her running out. I charged after her, through the fire exit and into the alley.

I wasn’t afraid of your average dark alley. I had standard Agency-issue spells in my coat and a nine millimeter in my purse for dealing with the less dangerous pests, but even I knew you have to be careful with an upset woman.

She pulled at her feet and limped down the alley. “I’m not giving them back.”

No way was she going to outrun me. Tennis shoes might not be the height of fashion, but I wore them for their practicality. I slipped a bag out of my pocket. “This will let me take them off. You can’t remove them because you stole them.”

She stumbled, then slumped against the wall, her feet out in front of her. Passing taillights made the glass slippers glisten, moving and shifting, like something alive. That made sense, since Grimm said they were. The glass filled with red, like she’d cut her toe. The bloodstain spread up the sides of the glass and she began to gurgle and cry.

I pulled out my pocket compact. “Grimm, I might have a problem.”

“Tell me you have them.”

“Just about.”

“Get out of there, Marissa. She’s not going to turn into a pumpkin.” His voice was firm and commanding. I’d never been the type to listen to firm or commanding. See, there was this thing about magic slippers. Use them with permission, and at midnight the whole deal expired. Steal them from a custom boutique on Fifth, and at midnight turning into a vegetable was the least of your worries.

She curled into a ball, kicking, growling, and making noises I’d never heard outside of the labor and delivery room. Running through the theater was out; heading back in there would introduce a whole load of teens to a different kind of monster than the movie ones. The loading bays down at the end of the alley didn’t look too promising, and now Princess PMS rose to her feet. The bloodred stains covered her from head to toe. Shadows covered her face, but where the orange wash of the street lights hit her she looked maroon.

“You want to let me help you?” I asked. The growling noise she made ruled out diplomacy. “Okay, we do it my way.”

She leaped at me. I’d mastered seven different forms of self-defense and I wore all four of the major protection charms, but one thing was constant: Whether my assailant was a drug addict or a bridge troll, pepper spray would leave them blind. So I ducked out of the way and gave her a dash of the scent I was sampling that day. It hit her like a brick, leaving her clawing at her eyes. I realized as she stumbled past that her nails were now at least three inches long and razor sharp.

She started sniffing the air, then like a dog, she ran straight into me, knocking me back to the Dumpster. Dumpsters hurt. I caught her arm before she could give me surprise plastic surgery and slammed her into the ground, pinning her underneath me.

That should have ended it, but she rolled over, throwing me to the side, and I barely stepped out of the way of those nails. She kicked at me and I caught her foot.

“Gotcha,” I said, rubbing the shoes with the bag. Grimm said the bag was made of genuine werewolf fur, but whatever it was, the effect was immediate. She thrashed and choked and kicked and I held on tight until she went limp. The slippers came off in my hand without a fight.

They glimmered under the streetlight, and for a moment I saw an image form in them: Me, walking down the street in them. No Agency bracelet on my wrist, a bag from shopping in my hand. I could be free, if only I put them on.

“Marissa,” said Grimm, speaking from the reflection in the shoes, “put them in the bag.”

I did, and the fantasy blew away like dry leaves down the sidewalk. My back hurt where I’d hit the Dumpster. My arm throbbed where she’d grabbed me, and my cheek had that hot feeling that said somewhere in her thrashing, she’d managed to nail me with a foot.

“I’m going home,” I said to my compact mirror. “What do you want me to do with her?”

“Leave her for the police. They’ll be there shortly. Evangeline needs your assistance on the Upper East Side, and there’s the matter of a troll.”

“I’m going home.” I knew full well he’d heard me the first time.

“I’ve got work for you, Marissa, and if you are ever to get your own ever after—”

“The only after I’m interested in right now is after a bottle of wine and after a long night’s sleep. I’ll see you when I’m ready for work.”

“Marissa, you need to ask yourself what you want more: A night’s sleep, or another job.”

I wiped a trace of blood off my lip, took a look at my bruises in the compact. Everything about me ached and the cold seeped out of the shadows into my bones. I put my hand on the bracelet and made my decision. “Tell Evangeline I’m on my way.” Nights like this made me wish I’d never gotten started in this business.

 

Rafflecopter giveaway: 1 Signed Print copy of Free Agent, 4 electronic copies of Free Agent:

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

If We Told Fairy Tales Now…

We look at fairy tales these days and the beginnings seem so quaint. So distant. And the tendency is to ask ourselves “What would these look like if they were modernized?” The answer is familiar to fans of urban fantasy:  They’d look a great deal like modern urban fantasy novels.  After all, fairy tales were the contemporary fantasy of their day.

In the days of the brothers Grimm, being a poor woodcutter wasn’t just a distant idea, it was a career track you could pick up a pamphlet for on career day.  Similarly, the idea of two parents starving to death like Hansel and Gretels? Real.  So when those stories started out “There once was a poor woodcutter, who lived alone in the woods,” folks said “Yup. I know him. Crazy Ned, lives down the hill.”

These days, our fairy tales open differently. “Once there was a poor fast-food worker.  He could barely afford the insurance premiums on his pinto, so he took it out into the woods.”  Readers say “Hey, I work at a fast food restaurant, and my car isn’t a pinto, but I could have saved money on my FORD by buying a pile of rust and cutting out the middle man.”

Our fairy tales would start differently, but in a way that’s familiar to us.

And our women? Our women would be different. The original fairy tales were told in an age where women were largely powerless, and their roles in the stories reflect that.  From the Goose Girl who just puts up with threats, to the Girl with No Hands, whose dad gives her hands to the devil, the women of fairy tales stand out to us today as weak.  Voiceless.  Powerless.

Not in my fairy tales.

I want women who act, who do, who decide. Who make mistakes, save the day, go for broke and go to hell. Our fairy tales would feature women who would say “If the devil wants a pair of hands, tell him to hold out his arms and hold still while I cut his off.”  And women who say “I need to run a credit check on Prince Charming before we go out on another date.”

Our princesses save the day. Our prince charmings arrive to find themselves in hot water and in need of a hand.  As one of my characters says “If I’m on a pedestal, it’s only so I can get a better shot. Go find some other damsel to rescue.”

Because our view of women has changed. Maybe not as much as it needs to, but it’s different. And these days, women are telling their own stories.

But you know what wouldn’t change? The heart of the conflict.  The core conflicts in fairy tales haven’t changed one whit.  Mothers and daughters still fight.  Parents still fall on hard times and make bad decisions.  Fathers still make deals with the devil for their daughter’s hands.

Ok, maybe not that last one, but take almost every fairy tale and the conflict at the core of it still exists.  Rumplestilskin isn’t really about a girl guessing an imp’s name. It’s about a father who brags about his daughter, and his daughter living up to her father’s promises.

Sleeping beauty isn’t about a prince sexually assaulting a woman who is incapable of giving consent. It’s about a squabble between adults that spills over on to their innocent children.

The goose girl is really about a mentally ill girl who talks to rotting horse heads.  If I had a dollar for every time I’ve read stories like that, I’d be rich.

And lastly, our endings. I don’t think our endings would differ much. We have dozens of different endings, from happy to mixed to sad in the fairy tales we have. If you want to see what a modern day fairytale would look like, pick up an urban fantasy book. I happen to know of one you might like.

Thanks – JC.

Jul 20

Evernight (Night watchmen, #2) by Candace Knoebel

Cover Reveal FB

Crow

Crow

evernight_promo

The stunning sequel to the thrilling paranormal romance novel Everlasting!

One lie will change everything.

Faye Middleton has secured the Dagger of Retribution for the High Priesthood, but in doing so, she’s opened the door to more demands set by them. She now has to break the Holy Seal, and soon. Trapped in the alluring Ethryeal City, Faye is pushed to the breaking point trying to discover just what she is truly capable of, even if it means destroying herself in the process.

With the clock ticking down to the war between both Covens, and the truth about her parent’s mysterious disappearance within her reach, Faye is faced with tough choices that will forever change her. Will Faye be able to handle the demands from the Priesthood, and still be able to continue her search for her parents?

But more importantly, can she survive the truth she finds?

Crow

About the AuthorCandace

Candace Knoebel is the award-winning author of Born in Flames-book one in a young adult fantasy trilogy. She discovered in 2009 through lunch breaks and late nights after putting her kids to bed, a world where she could escape the ever-pressing days of an eight to five Purgatory. And an outlet for all the voices residing in her head.

Published by 48fourteen in 2012, Born in Flames went on to win Turning the Pages Book of the Year award in February of 2013. In January of 2014, the last book in the trilogy, From the Embers, was released, thusly completing the trilogy. She now works on the Night Watchmen Series, while guzzling Red Bulls and pretending to be a ninja on Heelys.

Purchase Links

uy Books

 

Jul 16

Vision of Shadows

Buy at

Amazon

Barnes & Nobel

Smashwords

Silence in the Library

 

Blurb:

Is Bristol Blackburn about to meet the love of her life…or her killer?

Seventeen-year-old Bristol has never had a problem with the ghosts that float in and out of her life. It’s all the people with a pulse that confuse her.

After the death of her parents, Bristol’s life is thrown into chaos and she’s forced to move to Spirit, a small town where shadows are stirring. As she learns to navigate her new school and figures out how to keep her psychic abilities secret from her family, Bristol comes face to face with the boy who makes a regular appearance in her dreams: the gorgeous, possibly deadly, Payne McKnight. Soon she’ll find out if Payne will be the love of her life, or the end of it — and she has no idea which possibility scares her more.

And that’s not even the worst of it. Strange shadows are haunting her dreams, and they’re up to something that could put Bristol and the lives of everyone she loves in jeopardy.

 

Biography

Born and raised in Brooklyn NY, Vincent Morrone now resides in Upstate NY with his wife. (Although he can still speak fluent Brooklynese.) His twin daughters remain not only his biggest fans, but usually are the first to read all of his work. Their home is run and operated for the comfort and convenience of their dogs. Vincent has been writing fiction, poetry and song lyrics for as long as he can remember, most of which involve magical misfits, paranormal prodigies and even on occasion superheroes and their sidekicks.

As they say in Brooklyn: Yo, you got something to say? Vincent would love to hear from you at Vincent@vincentmorrone.com

 

 

 

 

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