Saturday, November 16, 2013

#AmReading - The Assassin’s Wife by Roger Weston @mariehallwrites

Kingdom Series by Marie Hall

Amazon

Alice is all grown up. Running the Mad Hatter's Cupcakery and Tea Shoppe is a delicious job, until fate--and a fairy godmother with a weakness for bad boys--throws her a curveball. Now, Alice is the newest resident of Wonderland, where the Mad Hatter fuels her fantasies and thrills her body with his dark touch.
The Mad Hatter may have a voice and a body made for sex, but he takes no lovers. Ever. But a determined fairy godmother has forced Alice into Wonderland--and his arms. Now, as desire and madness converge, the Hatter must decide if he will fight the fairy godmother's mating--or fight for Alice.

Elliot C. Mason – What To Look For in an Agent @ArthurRay44

What To Look For in an Agent

Green skin, a gluttonous gut, shiny red nose, fake hair, a superior dandy smile and suede loafers are the signs of a man with more money than sense. Yellow fur, snarling grin, vicious teeth, padded paws and a mane are the giveaway clues that in front of you is a lion. Lightly beating drums and the sharp twang of strings being plucked building on the horizon, looming nearer, tempo rising and the occasional whimper of an organ in the distance or clang of symbols are unmistakably the mark of a shark approaching from beneath the water. Characterless ties, archaic comb-overs, rosy cheeks of innocence, the jealous scent of fifty pound notes, the dusty grimace of Etonian grooming, the daunting realisation that you are under that shining black shoe, the sudden lightness of your pockets, and those gold-ringed fingers ravaging your wallet are all clear marks of a politician approaching. Worn corduroy blazer over unbuttoned waistcoat, floppy hair bouncing in the wind, light grey stubble and thick-rimmed glasses, carrying a retro briefcase, listening to Bob Dylan, muttering meaningless fables from ancient writers concerning the nature of democracy lying principally in man’s own bludgeoning of himself – spot these traits and unmistakably a university professor is marching straight towards you.

A money-hungry talent leech who sucks the life out of your veins, pumps you up with chirpy propaganda, sticks you on a totem pole outside a bookshop and takes every penny you ever made is a literary agent.

All these things should be avoided.

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Genre – Travel, Political, Dystopia, Romance

Rating – PG15

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Review: Duty: a novel of Rhynan by Rachel Rossano

Duty: a novel of RhynanDuty: a novel of Rhynan by Rachel Rossano
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What were the main relationships explored in this book? Tomas and Brielle. Just when you think that their marriage was the significant moment of the book, it is the violent attack on Brielle's village that turns things around. Every page had something exciting for this reader.

What did you like about the book? The issue of forced marriage has been discussed openly in the past years. While some cultures allow it, some frown upon it. This book raises questions about this and other issues like poverty and wealth distribution. I also loved the fictional country the author created.

Favourite character(s) … I liked Tomas. Sometimes you didn't know whether to love him or to hate him and I think it was his colourfulness that added to this fast-paced story and of course, made Lady Brielle's life just a bit more interesting.

Disclosure - As a Quality Reads Book Club member, I received a free copy of this book from the author via Orangeberry Book Tours in exchange for my honest review.

View all my reviews

Duty: a novel of Rhynan by Rachel Rossano @RachelRossano

Excerpt -

“Come, wife, we have miles to cover before our noon meal. Best get to your feet and seek out your breakfast before they put out the fires.”
I scrambled awkwardly out of the tent behind him. All the aches from the night before had stiffened to dull pain during the night. A bitter blast of air whipped the loose hair of my ruined braid into my face and pressed frozen hands against my back. The wind howled in my ears, momentarily blinding me and stealing my breath.
“Here, I forgot to give this to you yesterday.” A heavy cloak settled over my shoulders, blocking out the assailing wind. He fastened the ornate clasp beneath my chin. “It will help you stay warm until I can warm you again tonight.” He spoke slightly louder than necessary.
My cheeks burned despite the chill.
Then before I could protest, he smoothed my hair back from my face, effectively trapping my head between his large hands. “Don’t freeze up, Bri.” His obsidian eyes scanned my face, fire in their depths. “Remember our agreement about showing affection.” Then he kissed me.
The firm pressure of his mouth on mine brought unexpected heat in contrast to the frigid air around us. Then he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Liquid fire filled me from head to toe. My knees threatened to give way and leave me hanging from his hands by my head. I grasped the front of his tunic out of pure self-preservation.
He drew away.
Leaning his forehead against mine with his eyes closed, he simply breathed for a moment. My blood pulsed. My mind frantically went everywhere and nowhere at once.
“You are enough to drive a man mad,” he whispered harshly. Then suddenly I stood alone. He strode away in the opposite direction as the campfires.
 Duty
Duty to King
Tomas Dyrease, the newly made Earl of Irvaine and the village of Wisenvale, owes his good fortune to his king and the recent civil war. When his benefactor demands Tomas marry the cousin of a noble, he obeys. However, no one warned him that she wasn’t a typical noblewoman.
Duty to Others
Brielle Solarius struggles to keep her village from starvation under the new Lord Wisten, her cousin. The men rode off to war and never returned. The remaining women and children face a dire winter if they do not find a solution soon. When she learns her cousin sold her into marriage to save his life, she isn’t surprised. However, she is taken aback by Lord Irvaine’s unpolished ways. Was this man a noble or a foot soldier?
Duty to Each Other
Bound by the words of their vows, they face a rough future. They must forge a marriage while battling betrayal, accusations of treason, and villains from the past. Survival depends on their precarious trust in each other. Failure could mean death.
Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords
Genre – Fantasy, Romance
Rating – G
More details about the author and the book
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Author Interview – Michael J. Webb @mjwebbbooks

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Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Most of us, sadly, see the world three-dimensionally.  But, as Rod Serling, the creator of The Twilight Zone was fond of saying: There is another dimension–a fourth dimension. A dimension not of sight or sound, or taste or touch, or hearing, but one that overlays the one we accept as the “real” world. A parallel universe layered over the terrestrial realm like a gossamer veil. In order to “see” into this realm and interact with it we must use gifts given to us by God that transcend our fleshly bodies—and our souls.

The realm of Spirit.

I’m inspired by God to write about this realm and explore the consequences of ignoring, denigrating, or misrepresenting its power to impact our lives for all eternity.  There is a quote from one of the minor prophets in the Old Testament, Hosea, in which God says: My people perish for lack of knowledge.  People perish every day because they are ignorant of the things of the spirit and live only in the dimension of what their five senses tell them is real.  We were created to achieve far more than most of us realize.  We seek answers to our questions from an intellectual perspective, believing the disciplines of science, psychology, sociology, law, etc. can provide them.  While they can, in measure, we should not neglect to ask the One who created those disciplines, and everything else. He has ALL the answers and gives them freely to us of we simply knock at His door and keep on knocking until He responds.

Are you reading any interesting books at the moment?

Here’s what is sitting on my desk next to my computer:

The Source Field Investigations by David Wilcock, Beneath the Pyramids by Andrew Collins, The Genius of the Few by Christian O’Brien; Hitler’s Jewish Soldiers by Bryan Mark Rigg; Plot and Structure by James Scott Bell; Writing 21st Century Fiction by my agent Don Maass; Genes, Giants, Monsters, and Men by Joseph Farrell; DMT: The Spirit Molecule by Rick Strassman, M.D.; Forbidden Gates by Tom Horn; and The Thrones of our Souls by Paul Keith Davis.

When you wish to end your career, stop writing, and look back on your life, what thoughts would you like to have?

That I made a difference.

Here’s what I would like on my tombstone.  I’ve paraphrased it from the New Testament Book of Acts:  He was an ignorant and unlearned man, but he has been with Jesus.

Infernal Gates

Ethan Freeman, ex-Special Forces Ranger, wakes up to discover he is the sole survivor of a fiery commercial airline crash that killed his entire family. His nightmare is only beginning when he becomes the FBI’s prime suspect. Only Ethan knows he’s not a cold-hearted murderer, but he has no idea what happened to him–and why he alone survived.

He finds an unlikely ally in Sam Weaver, the NTSB Chief Investigator. An ex-military pilot, Sam senses Ethan is innocent. She tries to remain dispassionate in her investigation of the crash even as she finds herself attracted to the man who may be America=s worst homegrown mass-murderer.

Neither Ethan nor Sam realize that shadowy spiritual forces are at work which will alter their lives forever.

A monstrous evil, imprisoned since the time of the Pharaohs, has been released by The Nine, a sinister group of powerful men and women who believe they are the direct descendants of the Anunnaki, ancient Sumerian gods. The demon they have unleashed intends to free The Destroyer from The Abyss, the angelic prison referred to in the Book of Revelation, and unleash a worldwide reign of terror and annihilation.

Facing impossible odds, time is running out for Ethan and all of humanity as he is drawn into an ever-deeper conspiracy–millennia in the making–and learns that he is the key to stopping The Nine. Will he overcome his deepest fears and find reserves of strength he never knew he had as he confronts pure evil in order to save himself and an unsuspecting world?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Christian Thriller, Fantasy, Adventure

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Michael J. Webb  on Facebook & G+ & Twitter

Website http://www.michaeljwebbfiction.com/

Friday, November 15, 2013

Author Interview – Pepper Winters @PepperWinters

What makes you angry?

Trolls

Are you a city slicker or a country lover?

City for sure. After living in Hong Kong I adore busy, vibrant cities. I love being able to go shopping at 2am and having the world alive.

What’s your next project?

Quintessentially Q is my current project but Last Shadow is my next one and I’m very excited for it J

What would you love to produce in your life?

Four books a year for a very strong fanbase that love my work J That would be my ultimate dream

How do you feel about self-publishing?

I love it. I think it’s enabled so many writers who might never have got a chance with traditional to get their work into the hands of readers. I’ve become an avid fan of many self-published authors and have the privilege to call some of them friends.

Tears of Tess

Tess Snow has everything she ever wanted: one more semester before a career in property development, a loving boyfriend, and a future dazzling bright with possibility.

For their two year anniversary, Brax surprises Tess with a romantic trip to Mexico. Sandy beaches, delicious cocktails, and soul-connecting sex set the mood for a wonderful holiday. With a full heart, and looking forward to a passion filled week, Tess is on top of the world.

But lusty paradise is shattered.

Kidnapped. Drugged. Stolen. Tess is forced into a world full of darkness and terror.

Captive and alone with no savior, no lover, no faith, no future, Tess evolves from terrified girl to fierce fighter. But no matter her strength, it can’t save her from the horror of being sold.

Can Brax find Tess before she’s broken and ruined, or will Tess’s new owner change her life forever?

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Dark New Adult Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG-18

More details about the author

Connect with Pepper Winters  on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.pepperwinters.wordpress.com/

Kevin Sterling – The Importance of Research @ksterlingwriter

“The Importance of Research”

When people start writing a first novel, the prevailing recommendation is to “write what you know”. That’s great advice because most first-time novelists are doing it on the side, thereby limiting the amount of time they have for research. In other words, writing what they know allows them to bop along with the confidence that they have a solid understanding of the subject matter, setting, culture, people, dialect, etc.

The truth is that no matter what you write about, SOMEONE out there knows more about the subject than you do, and they’ll catch your mistakes. Not only that – some of them will broadcast your indiscretions to the world and tarnish your reputation as a viable author. Thankfully, I have been very thorough with my books and haven’t weathered such an experience, but I know people who have, and it’s no picnic.

Unfortunately, it isn’t possible to be an expert on everything you write about, which means thorough research is essential. And if you’re embarking on a complex or historically significant subject, you better pull up a chair and plan to spend some time getting up to speed.

Authors generally have a clear vision of what their novels are about before they start writing, which means they can perform a lot of research in advance. But if you’re like me, and you let your story go where it must, all sorts of new elements come into the picture, and you simply have to stop what you’re doing at some point and go back into research mode.

It’s no fun to halt the writing process when a story is moving along at warp speed, but you don’t want to write pages and pages that ultimately can’t be used because they’re simply…wrong. The spawn of every book I’ve written is a Word file full of pages (if not chapters) that were ejected because they were unusable, and I’d like to keep those to a minimum, thank you very much.

On the positive side, research can be fun and interesting, and I’m enthralled by what I’ve learned in the process. Sometimes I have to rip myself away from reading historical texts that no longer have any relationship to my story, but I get engrossed, and it’s all so fascinating. But then, there’s always the chance of running across something unexpected that could propel one’s plot to the next level.

I comb real life news and world events to spark story ideas, but random research often inspires tangential concepts that build complex interrelationships and create a complex plot with unexpected twists and turns. In Lazar’s Mission, I never anticipated using Nazis as the bad guys because the concept is so passé, but I found amazing historical facts that remarkably tied into my original storyline, and it was impossible not to use them. I was so excited about it, I could hardly stand it.

Writing a novel is a challenging process that can take years to accomplish, so there’s no reason to sidestep something so simple that has such a relatively small time commitment as thorough research.

Kevin Sterling

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Genre – Action, Mystery, Suspense

Rating – R

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Wednesday, November 13, 2013

#Harder Than the Rest by Shirleen Davies @ShirleenDavies

Harder Than The Rest

“They are men you want on your side. Hard, confident, and loyal, the MacLarens of Fire Mountain will seize your attention from the first page.”

Will MacLaren is a hardened, plain-speaking bounty hunter. His life centers on finding men guilty of horrendous crimes and making sure justice is done. There is no place in his world for the carefree attitude he carried years before when a tragic event destroyed his dreams.

Amanda is the daughter of a successful Colorado rancher. Determined and proud, she works hard to prove she is as capable as any man and worthy to be her father’s heir. When a stranger arrives, her independent nature collides with the strong pull toward the handsome ranch hand. But is he what he seems and could his secrets endanger her as well as her family?

The last thing Will needs is to feel passion for another woman. But Amanda elicits feelings he thought were long buried. Can Will’s desire for her change him? Or will the vengeance he seeks against the one man he wants to destroy—a dangerous opponent without a conscious—continue to control his life?

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Genre – Western Historical Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Closing The Gap: Understanding Your Service (Wo)man - Yvonne Jones @yvijones

CHAPTER 2: WHO WE ARE – WHO YOU ARE
WHO WE ARE
“MILITARY FAMILY”
In order to explain to you what a military family is, let’s look at the applicable creed and motto your service(wo)man is encouraged to live by.
Due to its prominent use in different forms of entertainment, such as movies and songs, the Rifleman’s Creed is often mistakenly thought to be the creed of all military branches. Each branch within the military, however, has its own creed, which are depicted below.
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Those creeds and mottos reflect the pride, beliefs, and top priorities of your service(wo)man. Those beliefs, are the driving force that keep your service(wo)man going during inspirational acts of bravery and sacrifice, during periods of long separations, danger and fear of injury and loss. Military service penetrates and influences the entire family to an extent unmatched by civilian employment. Military life is hard to describe, but ultimately, it is a “way of life” as opposed to a job or a career. Military life is not an easy life, and is most certainly not for everyone. But most of us wouldn’t want to change who and what we are. We travel all over the world and meet some truly amazing people along the way with whom we create lifelong, lasting friendships. But who are “we”?
Closing The Gap
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Military Family
Rating – G
More details about the author and the book
Connect with  Yvonne Jones on Facebook

Infernal Gates by Michael J. Webb @mjwebbbooks

Chapter 7

It was just after dawn and the sun rose majestically over the snow-capped peaks of the Swartberg Pass. The golden yellow rays—tinged with hues of red, bluish-purple, and brilliant orange—reflected off the glistening, pristine snow. The view was breathtaking—like nothing Donald had ever seen before. The mile-high Pass they were passing through was a masterpiece of engineering, full of wide loops, switchbacks, and stunning views.

He didn’t want to miss a single moment of the extraordinary panorama spread out before him, but he had to concentrate on his driving.

Donald had researched information about its construction on the Internet late last night. The final work accomplished by the legendary road builder, Thomas Bain, it was completed after six years of grueling labor in 1887. Because the road was narrow, winding, and very steep, he couldn’t afford to act like a tourist on vacation, even though he felt like one.

One stupid mistake and they’d be airborne—and it was a long way to the valley below.

He’d also discovered the San Andreas Fault ran smack dab through these mountains. The most destructive earthquake in South Africa’s history had hit not far from here in 1969. The quake had been so strong, 6.3 on the Richer scale, with aftershocks exceeding 7.0, that the force of it had been felt as far away as Durban, on the coast. Thinking of the rock towers surrounding this road shifting and swaying like tinker toys made his stomach quiver.

“Tell me again why we’re going to this place—what’s it called, Heitsi?” he said.

“Gamkaskloof,” their guide replied from the back seat.

Die Hel” Alec said, using the Afrikaans colloquial name as he scrutinized the map splayed out across his lap. He was in the passenger seat with several well-worn reference books scattered at his feet. Every so often he reached down and picked one up, then flipped back and forth through the pages. He scribbled furiously and made several notes on both the map and the small notepad he always kept with him.

“The Hell is an extremely fertile valley, thirty-two miles long and less than half a mile wide,” he continued, as he paused for a moment from what he was doing. “It’s aptly nicknamed by the locals, because it is a place of mystery and legend, in the tradition of Sir Conan Doyle’s The Lost World. We’re going to Gamkaskloof, because of what we found in the Karoo yesterday.”

Heitsi said nothing. An air of concern cloaked his countenance, like a barely discernible gossamer veil.

It was mid-morning when they reached the bottom of the valley.

The temperature had risen dramatically as they descended. Now, all the windows in the Land Rover were down, allowing a scented breeze to flow through the vehicle. The valley floor was covered with a variety of reverie shrubs, thorn trees—with their exaggerated umbrella-shaped crowns, gnarled branches, and jagged thorns—and the spectacular Klapperbosse.

The narrow road wound through bush so dense it seemed like an impenetrable wall and finally brought the three companions to the Gamka River crossing. Donald was grateful they hadn’t seen another vehicle. He couldn’t imagine how they would have negotiated the encounter—there was no place to turn around.

“This valley has to be one of the best-kept secrets ever,” he said. “I had no idea anything like this existed in South Africa.”

“Most people outside of the area don’t,” Alec responded. “The valley was discovered by accident. For more than a hundred years, the only way to get down here was on horseback through the river gorge, or over the mountains. The cut-off leading down into the valley wasn’t even constructed until nineteen sixty-two. Within thirty years of its completion, the last farmer had sold out his interests to the Cape Nature Conservation Society, the organization which manages the Swartberg Preserve. Now, there are only two permanent residents who live here—a conservation official and his wife.”

The Land Rover hit a huge pot hole and the three occupants were momentarily rattled.

“Hit another one of those, Donald,” Heitsi admonished, “and you might as well get out the camping gear right now, because we won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

“Sorry—”

“You see those three odd-shaped formations up ahead?” Alec tapped his graduate assistant on the shoulder and pointed.

Donald nodded.

“That’s where we’re going to look.”

“Look for what?” Heitsi demanded, a scowl on his face.

“The Tomb of the Unmentionable.”

Six thousand miles away, on the shores of the Mediterranean, an orange-yellow sun was momentarily trapped among a contingent of cumulus clouds as they pranced across the sky, casting a mosaic of lavender and ocher-red hues across the heavenly, deep-blue canopy. A soft, cool breeze, unusual for this time of year, cascaded over the dirty-green water that was the Vieux Port of Marseilles. It left row after row of undulating ripples in its unseen wake.

The smell of salt, and rotting fish, permeated the shimmering air.

On the peak of the strip of land that projected west into the bay, high above the Port, stood the imposing Church of Notre Dame de la Garde. Construction on the Romano-Byzantine style basilica had begun in 1853 on the hilltop where the town’s lookout post had once stood. It was completed forty-six years later, one year shy of the new century. The hilltop, like most religious sites in Europe, had a long history. Originally, a simple chapel had been built there during the thirteenth century. Eventually, it became a priory for the monks of St. Victor. Three hundred years later, the church had been fortified to defend against a threatened invasion by Charles V of Spain.

Now, the century-old basilica dominated the view for miles around.

Standing atop its two hundred foot high belfry stood a huge, gilded statue of the Virgin Mary holding her infant child. Mother and child had a magnificent view of Fort St. Jean, and Fort St. Nicholas, as well as the rocky islet of If, site of the sixteenth century Chateau d’If mentioned in the Count of Monte Christo, the nineteenth century novel written by the French novelist Alexandre Dumas.

Infernal Gates

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Genre – Christian Thriller, Fantasy, Adventure

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Michael J. Webb  on Facebook & G+ & Twitter

Website http://www.michaeljwebbfiction.com/

The Playmaker by Dakota Madison @ShortonTimeBook

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THE PLAYMAKER is Part Two of the FIRE ON ICE series.

Kian Kavanagh, Mr. Fire on Ice, has just been called up to play hockey for the NHL’s new expansion team in Seattle. Finally playing in the NHL is a dream come true…except for one thing. Kian has to leave Northern Arizona and the love of his life, Taylor Thompson, to pursue his dream.

Taylor Thompson thinks she’s got life figured out. She’ll finish her final semester of college then move to Seattle to attend graduate school and be with her man. Until one fateful night when Taylor’s world is complete shattered and everything she’s ever wanted—everything she’s ever hoped for—is called into question.

Will Kian’s love be enough to help put Taylor’s shattered world back together again or will tragedy tear them apart?

This NEW ADULT ROMANCE contains MATURE LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE and CONTENT indented for ADULT READERS (18+).

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Genre – New Adult Romance

Rating – R

More details about the author and the book

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Website http://12novels12months.tumblr.com/

Author Interview – Colin Falconer @colin_falconer

Image of Colin Falconer

What other jobs have you had in your life?

What I wanted to do was play for Manchester United but they didn’t want to play with me. I had trails with a top flight English club – Southampton – and didn’t make it. I drove taxis while I was learning to write. I worked for 13 years as a volunteer paramedic in Australia. Working as a volunteer paramedic is a book on its own! I would be sitting at my desk typing then my pager would go off and half an hour later I’d be crawling into a car wreck feeling for a pulse. It was an unusual life.

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

Right where I’m living now – Barcelona. The people are great, there are tapas bars everywhere, you can get a beer any hour of the day or night, and you can feel history in every stone.

Tell us about your family?

I have two amazing daughters, they both live in London now. One is a director of a company that manages pubs in the centre of London, the other is studying writing and literature at Goldsmith. Pubs and writing! They’re not really chips off the old block, they’re half a block each! I am very close to my brother and his wife, they always have a bed and a bottle of whisky for me whenever I get in a jam. Which is far too often. My niece is probably my biggest fan – she goes up to complete strangers while they’re reading a book on a train and asks them if the book’s one of mine. When they say no, she says – well, why not? and tells them to start with Venom.

How do you write – lap top, pen, paper, in bed, at a desk?

No pasa nada. I write anywhere, any place, any time. Cut a vein and scrawl on the back of a MacDonald’s towelette if there’s nothing else handy. I have to write. It’s an addiction. Every Thursday I go to Writers Anonymous but I keep falling off the wagon.

Tell us about your new book? What’s it about and why did you write it?

What do you do if you are a 12 year old girl and are married off to a king who prefers men? The answer, if your name is Isabella, is you wait until you are old enough and then you invade England with your lover and depose him, and put your son on the throne.

I was fascinated with this story because growing up in England our school teachers told us England was only ever invaded once, by William the Conqueror in 1066. They never mentioned Isabella! Was it just blatant sexism? Anyway, I just found the whole story fascinating with a lot of relevance for sexual issues today. And great characters – really conflicted.

Isabella

She was taught to obey. Now she has learned to rebel.

12 year old Isabella, a French princess marries the King of England – only to discover he has a terrible secret. Ten long years later she is in utter despair – does she submit to a lifetime of solitude and a spiritual death – or seize her destiny and take the throne of England for herself?

Isabella is just twelve years old when she marries Edward II of England. For the young princess it is love at first sight – but Edward has a terrible secret that threatens to tear their marriage – and England apart.

Who is Piers Gaveston – and why is his presence in the king’s court about to plunge England into civil war?

The young queen believes in the love songs of the troubadours and her own exalted destiny – but she finds reality very different. As she grows to a woman in the deadly maelstrom of Edward’s court, she must decide between her husband, her children, even her life – and one breath-taking gamble that will change the course of history.

This is the story of Isabella, the only woman ever to invade England – and win.

In the tradition of Philippa Gregory and Elizabeth Chadwick, ISABELLA is thoroughly researched and fast paced, the little known story of the one invasion the English never talk about.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Historical Fiction

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Colin Falconer on Facebook & Twitter

Website https://colinfalconer.wordpress.com/

Lisa Regan – Top 10 Pet Peeves About the Publishing Industry @Lisalregan

Top 10 Pet Peeves About the Publishing Industry

by Lisa Regan

1.  The waiting.  When you’re looking for an agent, you’re constantly waiting.  Then when you get an agent, and your agent is pitching to publishers, you’re waiting.  Then when you get a contract, there is more waiting until your book finally comes out.  It can be maddening if you don’t have the patience of a saint.

2.  Those rejections you get during the submissions process that come with no explanation whatsoever.  Even a simple: “I didn’t connect with this” is better than complete silence.

3. Resistance to new things.  I understand that publishers want to stick with what makes money but I think there are a lot of new things that they could be capitalizing on.  I was happy to see that the New Adult genre is making such great strides in the industry since there are so many great NA books out there.

4.  When publishers charge more than $7.99 for an ebook.  There is simply no reason to charge more.  I’ve had to stop reading most of my favorite authors because I just refuse to pay $12.99 or $14.99 for an ebook.  It’s not like they have to print them or create them each time they are purchased.  I think this is a blatant slap in the face to loyal readers.

5.  Major reviewers and other organizations that snub indie writers, even those with royalty-paying publishers.

6.  Did I mention the waiting?

7.  Ebook piracy.  This is relatively new, of course, with the dawn of e-books. Authors work incredibly hard on their novels.  I don’t believe others should steal that hard work and give it away for free.  Authors or their publishers should make the decisions as to who gets copies for free.

8.  How little writers make from the finished product.  Writers make the smallest percentage from their own books.  I think the new age of Indie publishing is so exciting because now writers are able to collect the majority of the profits instead of a few cents on the dollar.

9.  Trying to find a balance between social media obligations and actual writing.  I love social media, don’t get me wrong.  I’m a bit of an addict.  But it’s hard to turn it off sometimes and just write.

10.  The waiting.  I said that, right?

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Psychological Thriller / Crime Fiction

Rating – R

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Lisa Regan on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.lisaregan.com/

Monday, November 11, 2013

Tears of Tess by Pepper Winters @PepperWinters

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*Starling*

Where are you taking me, Brax?” I giggled as my boyfriend of two years beamed his slightly crooked smile and plucked my suitcase from my hands.

We crossed the threshold of the airport and nerves of excitement fluttered in my stomach.

A week ago, Brax surprised me with a romantic dinner and an envelope. I grabbed him and squeezed him half to death when I pulled free two airplane tickets with the destinations blacked out by a marker.

My perfect, sweet boyfriend, Brax Cliffingstone was taking me somewhere exotic. And that meant connection, sex, fun. Things I sorely needed.

Brax had never been able to keep a secret. Hell, he was a shockingly bad liar—I caught his fibs every time when sky-blue eyes darted up and to the left, and his cute ears blushed. 

But, somehow, he kept quiet on the whole mysterious holiday. Like any normal twenty-year-old woman, I searched our apartment ruthlessly. Raiding his underwear drawer, the PlayStation compartment, and all the other secret hidey-holes where he might’ve kept the real plane reservations. But, for all my snooping, I came up empty. 

So, as I stood in the Melbourne airport, with a crazy happy boyfriend and nerves rioting in my heart, I could only grin like an idiot.

“Not telling. The check-in clerk can be the one to ruin my surprise.” He chuckled. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t tell you until we arrived at the resort.” He dropped the suitcase and dragged me toward him with a smirk. “In fact, if I could, I’d blindfold you until we got there, so it would all be a complete surprise.”

My core clenched as thoughts flared with hot images—sexy, sinful visions of Brax blindfolding me, taking me roughly, completely at his mercy. Oh, God, don’t go there again, Tess. You were going to block thoughts like that, remember?

Ignoring myself, I gasped as Brax’s fingers grazed my flesh. I shuddered, and my sequined top became insubstantial.

“You could do that, you know?” I whispered, dropping my eyelids to half-mast. “You could tie me up….”

Instead of pouncing and kissing me like crazy for offering him the chance to dominate, Brax swallowed and looked as if I told him to slap me with a dead fish.

“Tess, what the hell? That’s the third time you’ve quipped about bondage.”

Rejection crushed, and I dropped my gaze. The tingles between my legs popped like dirty bubbles, and I let Brax shove me back into the box where I belonged. The box labelled: perfect, innocent girlfriend who’d do anything for him, as long as it was in the dark and on my back.

I wanted a new label. One that said: girlfriend who will do anything to be tied, spanked, and fucked all over rather than adored.

Brax looked so disappointed and I hated myself. I need to stop this.

I reminded myself for the three-hundredth time, that the sweet, wonderful relationship I had with this man was far more important than a bit of sexy play in the bedroom.

I mumbled, “It’s been too long. Almost a month and a half.” I remembered the exact date when the lacklustre sex, in good ole missionary, took place. Brax worked overtime, my uni course demanded a lot of brainpower, and somehow life became more important than a roll beneath the sheets.

He froze, looking around us at the hordes of people. “Great time to bring that up.” He guided me to the side, glaring at a couple that came too close. “Can we talk about this later?” He ducked his head and kissed my cheek. “I love you, hun. Once we aren’t so busy, then we can have more alone time.”

“And this holiday? Will you take me like the girlfriend you adore?”

Brax beamed, enveloping me in a hug. “Every night. You wait.”

I smiled, letting anticipation and happiness dispel my angst. Brax and I wanted different things in the bedroom department, and I hoped, prayed, got on my knees and begged, that I didn’t ruin what we had because of it. 

My blood simmered for things entirely not sweet. Things I didn’t have the courage to say. Downright sinful things that amped my blood to lava and made me wet—it wasn’t chaste kisses.

And standing in his arms, in a public place, with that sexy smirk on his mouth, and hands on my waist, I trembled with a cocktail of need. This trip would be exactly what we needed.

He brushed his lips against mine, no tongue, and I had to squeeze my legs together to stop the vibrations threatening to overtake me. Is there something wrong with me? Surely, I shouldn’t be this way. Maybe there was a cure—something to take the edge off my desires.

Brax pulled back, smiling. “You’re gorgeous.”

My eyes dropped to his shapely mouth, breathing faster. What would Brax do if I pushed him up against the wall and groped him in public? My mind turned the fantasy into him pushing me hard against the wall, his thigh going between my legs, hands pawing, bruising me because he couldn’t get close enough.

I swallowed, battling those far too tempting thoughts. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I joked, plucking his baby-blue t-shirt that matched his eyes so well.

I loved this man, but missed him at the same time. How was that possible?

Life wedged between us: the university course stole five days a week, not to mention homework, and Brax’s boss landed a new building contract in the heart of the city.

Each month trickled into the next, and lovemaking became second fiddle to Call of Duty on PlayStation, and architectural sketching for the extra credit I’d signed up for.

But all of that would change. Our life together would improve, because I was going to seduce my man. I’d packed a few naughty surprises to show Brax what turned me on. I needed to do this. To save my sanity. To save my relationship.

Brax’s fingers squeezed my waist and he stepped away, ducking down to grab the suitcases again.

If I wanted to seduce him, wasn’t it best just to go for it? Planning and dreaming seemed wrong when he stood right in front of me.

I dropped my shoulder bag and grabbed the lapels of his beige canvas jacket, yanking him into me. “Let’s join the mile-high club,” I whispered, before crushing his mouth with mine. His eyes flashed as I leaned forward, pressing my entire body against his. Feel me. Need me.

He tasted of orange juice and his lips were warm, so warm. My tongue tried to gain welcome, but Brax’s hands landed on my shoulders, holding me at bay.

Someone clapped, saying, “You attack him, girl!”

Brax stepped back, looking over my shoulder at the bystander. He dropped his eyes to mine, temper flashing. “Nice spectacle, Tess. Are we done? Can we go check in?”

Disappointment sat like a heavy boulder in my belly. He sensed my mood—like he always did—and gathered me into a hug again. “I’m sorry. You know how much I hate PDA’s. Get me behind closed doors, and I’m all yours.” He smiled, and I nodded.

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m just so excited to go on holiday with you.” I dropped my eyes, letting wild, blonde curls curtain my face. Please, don’t let him see the rejection in my eyes. Brax used to say my eyes reminded him of dove’s feathers as the white bird flew across the sky. He could be very poetic, my Brax. But I didn’t want poetry anymore. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.

He chuckled. “You’re right about being excited.” He waggled his eyebrow, and together we headed to check-in. The girl who’d told me to attack him winked and gave me a thumbs up.

I smiled, hiding the residual pain that my attack didn’t inspire the same reaction.

We joined the queue, and I glanced around. People milled like fish in a pond, darting and weaving around groups of waiting passengers. The vibe of an airport never failed to excite me. Not that I travelled a lot. Before the university course, I travelled to Sydney to study the architecture there, and sketch. I loved to sketch buildings.  At ten-years of age, my parents took my brother and me to Bali for a week. Not that it was fun going on holiday with a thirty-year old brother, and parents who despised me.

Old hurt surfaced, thinking of them. When I moved in with Brax eighteen months ago, I drifted apart from my parents. After all, they were almost seventy-years old, and focused on other ‘important things’, rather than a daughter who’d come twenty years too late. A dreadful mistake, as they loved to remind me. 

They’d been so horrified at the pregnancy, they promptly sued the doctor for botching my father’s vasectomy.

An old enemy: rejection, ruled my life. I supposed the desperation to connect with Brax was a way of confirming that someone wanted me. I didn’t just want intimacy, I needed it. I needed to feel his hands on me, his body in mine. It was a craving that never left me in peace.

I blinked, putting the impossible together. I needed Brax to be rough because I needed to be claimed.

Oh, my God, am I that screwed up?

I followed Brax, in a daze, to the counter and let him put the suitcase on the scales.

“Morning. Tickets and passports, please,” the girl in her smart uniform said.

Fumbling with luggage tags, Brax asked, “Honey, can you give her our tickets? They’re in my back pocket.”

I reached around and pulled out a travel wallet from his baggy jeans pocket. Although twenty-three years old, Brax still dressed like a grungy teenager. I squeezed his butt.

His eyes flashed to mine, frowning.

I forced a bright smile, handing our documentation to the clerk. I didn’t even check where we were headed, too focused on ignoring the twinges of sadness at not being allowed to grope my boyfriend. Maybe I’m too sexual? My fears were right. I was hardwired all wrong.

“Thank you.” The girl’s eyes dropped, showing heavily shadowed lids. Her brown hair, scraped back into a tight bun, looked plastic with so much hair spray. She bit her lip and pulled out a ream of tickets before checking our passports. “Do you want your bags checked all the way through to Cancun?”

Cancun? My heart soared. Wow. Brax outdid himself. I never would’ve thought he’d travel so far from home. I turned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much, Brax.”

His face softened as he captured my hand. “You’re welcome. There’s no better way to celebrate our future, than going to a country that values friendship and family.” He leaned closer. “I read that on Sundays, the streets come alive with strangers dancing. Everyone becomes connected by music.”

I couldn’t tear myself from his crisp blue eyes. That was why I loved him, despite not being completely satisfied. Brax suffered the same insecurities. He didn’t have anyone but me. His parents died in a car accident when he turned seventeen; he was an only child.

Brax owned the apartment we lived in, thanks to the life insurance pay out, and his dad’s husky, Blizzard, came with the bargain.

Blizzard and I didn’t see eye to eye, but Brax loved the dog like a tatty teddy-bear. I tolerated the beast, and kept my handbags far from chewing height.

“You’re the best.” I captured his chin, planting a kiss, not caring he was uncomfortable. Hell, the couple beside us were practically dry humping; a peck on the mouth was PG stuff.

The girl sighed across the counter. “Is this your honeymoon? Cancun is amazing. My boyfriend and I went there a few years ago. So hot and fun. And the music is so sexy, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

Images filled my mind of twirling around Brax in a new sexy bikini. Maybe a change of scenery would amplify our lust.

I said, “No, not our honeymoon. Just a celebration.”

Brax grinned, his eyes sparkling.

An idea ran wild. Was this trip special? Was Brax going to propose? I waited for the heart-flipping joy at becoming Mrs. Cliffingstone, but a swell of comfort filled me instead. I would say yes. 

Brax wanted me. Brax was safe. I loved him in my own way—the way that mattered, the long-lasting kind.

Silence descended while the girl tap-tapped her keyboard and printed off our boarding passes. After tagging our bags, she handed everything back. “Your bags are checked all the way to Mexico, but you’ll have a stop in Los Angeles for four hours.” She circled the gate number and time. “Please make your way through immigration, and proceed to the departure lounge. You board at eleven-thirty.”

Brax took the documentation and shouldered his laptop bag. Linking hands with me, he said, “Thank you.”

We headed toward the Passengers Only lounge. We had little over an hour before boarding. I could think of a lot of things we could do in an hour, but I doubted Brax would be into them.

But we were on our way to Mexico. A different country and a different bed awaited us. I could be patient.

I made up my mind, as Brax browsed the tax-free PlayStation games, that tonight would mark a new beginning for us. Goodbye contentment, hello lust. 

Our relationship was going to rip and roar with love and flame. I would make sure of it.

Yes, tonight things would be different.

I needed different.

Tears of Tess

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Genre – Dark New Adult Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG-18

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Website http://www.pepperwinters.wordpress.com/

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Sandy Nathan @sandyonathan

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Sandy Nathan


I’m not a well-known author, so you probably don’t know much of anything about me. I’ll fill in the blanks.

1. I am old. This may seem like a suicidal thing to say in an industry that considers authors kaput at thirty-five. I’m pushing seventy. I’m supremely happy and comfortable in my skin, more than I’ve ever been. I couldn’t write what I do when I was younger. I didn’t have the depth of understanding or the ability to immerse myself in a story. I for sure didn’t have the writing skills. I’ve spent about eighteen years in two writing groups and being coached/mentored by my editor. My creative mind is as sharp as ever, though my short-term memory is a bit wonky. (Who did you say you were?) And––I just got a new horse, a gorgeous gray Peruvian Paso mare. We’re in love. So don’t fear aging, it’s not so bad.

2. I was born in San Francisco and lived either there or on the San Francisco Peninsula most of my life. That area came to be known as Silicon Valley. My dad was the President and CEO of what was the 9th largest residential construction company in the United States in its heyday. I know what powerful, successful men and women are like, and I know their energy. I also know how social systems work in very prosperous places. They’re brutal. This knowledge is most relevant for my Bloodsong Series, which takes place in the late 1990s to the contemporary era, but it’s also relevant for the Earth’s End Series. The economically segmented world, in which Jeremy Edgarton and his friends live in (in The Angel & the Brown-Eyed Boy) is drawn from my childhood.

3. I lived in a golden bubble of prosperity until I was eighteen years old. When a drunk driver ran into my father’s car head on, my wonderful life was ripped from me. My dad was horribly maimed and died after three days of agony. I went from a golden princess to someone living close to poverty level. Boy, was that ever a character-building experience. I developed myself as a result and learned to stand on my own feet. I’m very different than I would have been had my dad lived, but I do miss the bubble sometimes.

4. I went to school a lot. I love learning and it was part of my salvation after my father was killed. I’ve got an MS in Economics and an MA in Marriage, Family, and Child Counseling. (I was doing a career change.) I also spent a year at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business in their PhD program. This convinced me that I did not want a PhD in Economics, but it opened the door to a twenty-year gig coaching negotiations for one of the professors. I loved this: just me, a video camera, and two MBA (Master’s in Business Administration) students in a small room. There, I bludgeoned them into being able to listen non-judgmentally. The skill probably lasted two minutes after they walked out of the room, but I consider it my contribution to making the world a better place.

5. I have worked a lot. I’ve worked three gigs as an economist. I was project economist on two studies—one a year long and the other a year and a half. The studies were managed by the Planning Department of Santa Clara County (southern part of Silicon Valley). The second one was a big deal, funded by the National Science Foundation and jointly conducted by the SCC and the RAND Corporation. I got to play with the really bright boys there. Later, I was the Economic Analyst for Santa Clara County. I gave it all up to get my MA in counseling––and to be a mom. I had my two daughters right about then. I’ve done other stuff, too. We owned a furniture store. I went back to school (again) and studied interior design. I worked as the principle designer in our store for ten years. Out of the blue, our family was consumed by a horse addiction. We were all smitten by Peruvian Paso horses and ended up breeding them for twenty years before retiring. So, be glad if you’re old and not lazy, you can cover a lot of ground.

6. I had my first visionary experience as a young teenager, riding my horse through the redwood groves of the Coastal Range down the spine of the San Francisco Peninsula. Much later, getting my MA in counseling, I learned it was a “unitive experience.” The redwoods with their motes of light and the soft dust of the trail, the gurgling brook surrounded by ferns, my warm horse with his gentle breathing, and I merged. I couldn’t tell one from the other. It was a glimpse of the way the world should be, or could be. Peaceful. Ecstatic. Sacred. I’ve had those experiences ever since, usually when something rotten happens.

7. Because of the tendency for tragic and traumatic events to throw me into ecstatic states that turn into books, I say that I write “literature through disaster.” The Earth’s End Series came to me after a transcendent experience following my brother’s death. You can read more about it the Author’s Note at the front of the book. Something even worse produced the Bloodsong Series. (It’s in the Author’s Note of that series, as well.) These glimpses of the divine that give me my books punch a hole in the universe and allow me access to higher realms of being. The hole stays open after I’ve spit the initial book out. With Earth’s End, I wrote The Angel & the Brown-eyed Boy at warp speed. When I was done, Lady Grace & the War of a New World was there. When I was done with The Lady, pop! The Headman & the Assassin flowed in. The way I get my books is through a gestalt of meaning, I don’t have trouble finishing them. Whereas before the experience of creating the Bloodsong Series, I couldn’t finish a limerick to save my life; afterward, I finish pretty near everything, eventually.

8. I’ve always written, whether academically or professionally. I thought I was a good writer. I was, for those fields. That means nothing in terms of writing publishable fiction. So I participated in two writing groups and worked with my editor, turning into a pretty good writer. I’m tougher on myself than anyone else is, which is a good thing. Clean up those participles! Sponge those redundant phrases!

9. My primary purpose in writing is to raise my readers to that higher plane I touch every so often. Do I want to change the world? You bet. Do I want to save the world? If it’s possible. No matter how grim, grisly, violent, bloody, sexy, or beautiful my writing is, every word is there for one reason: to wake people up and get them to think. To inspire them. Life is so short and transitory; we need to savor every minute. As my father’s death showed me, everything can be gone in a moment.

10. You don’t have to know all this stuff about me to read my books, but it will fill in the blanks and give you an indication of what shaped my words.

I hope you’re moved to read my work and I hope you find it valuable if you do. Thanks so much for walking this way with me. It’s been a privilege to share my life with you.

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Genre – Metaphysical Science Fiction

Rating – R

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Sunday, November 10, 2013

Fire on Ice by Dakota Madison @ShortonTimeBook

Fire on Ice

This is BOOK ONE of the FIRE ON ICE series.

BOOK TWO, THE PLAYMAKER, is now available.

He’s Fire on Ice and she’s afraid to get burned again…

“You always think a guy is going to be different until he’s not.”

Firestorm Center Kian Kavanagh dominates the ice like a rock star dominates the stage. He’s the hottest new player to be recruited for the Firestorm, a newly established professional hockey team in Northern Arizona.

After Taylor Thompson’s heart was completely shattered by her high school’s most popular jock, she vowed never to date another athlete. And she keeps that promise through her first three years of college by putting up impenetrable walls to protect her from heartbreak.

But after a chance meeting with the charming and irresistible Kian Kavanagh, Taylor’s carefully constructed walls are in serious danger of being burned down by Mr. Fire on Ice.

This NEW ADULT ROMANCE contains MATURE LANGUAGE and CONTENT indented for adult readers (18+).

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Genre – New Adult Romance

Rating – R

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Massimo Marino – Give Characters Some Space @Massim0Marin0

Give Characters Some Space

Did you ever come across dialogues floating like the bubble thoughts of cartoon characters?

It’s when the dialogue starts on a page without narrating where the characters are. As if in a theater the director had decided to keep the hall in the dark and only voices can be heard.
You can’t visualise what’s going on, and having readers visualise is the most important feature of a good story telling.

You don’t want your readers to ‘listen’ to a chat, and how can you give depth to your characters if they are only voices in the dark?

I visualize the location where the dialogue takes place, without the characters making their appearance in my mind, yet. I explore the place and note down if there are important details, those things that might be ‘used’ by the characters while discussing, or enter in their body-talk motions.
You don’t need to go into lengthy descriptions, one sentence or two usually suffice.

Characters location can be done subtly, having them entering the space and sit, or watch out of the window, or resting against a piece of furniture before they start to talk.

You don’t need to be explicit, one can hint to a possible location—office, shop, living room, outdoor—by showing the characters interacting with the space around them, but refrain from having words told by characters within an impenetrable fog patch. Take them out of the fog.

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://massimomarinoauthor.com