Guest Author ~ Boone Brux
Posted: December 28, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Bewitching Book Tours, Boone Brux, Bringer and the Bane, Guest Author, Kiss of the Betrayer Leave a comment
For fifteen years Luc Le Daun has blamed himself for the death of the woman he loved. His secret guilt has led him into a life of danger, risking all and committing to none.
Killing Luc Le Daun has been all Jade Kendell has thought about for years. But when her plan goes awry and she’s brought into the Bringers’ fold, her own dark secret threatens to be revealed. Desire for a better life wars with a promise made long before she understood the ramifications.
In a deadly mission, Jade and Luc embark on a journey into the Shadow World. As they attempt the impossible, ignoring the attraction growing between them becomes harder to deny. The slightest misstep could mean the loss of their souls and give the Demon King exactly what he needs to open the Abyss of Souls and annihilate the Bringers.
Find KISS OF THE BETRYER on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
About the Author:
As a multi-published and an award winning author, Boone’s writing drips with experiences from real life. Addicted to anything that might make a good story, she weaves tales that range from dark fantasy to humorous romance. Settled in the icy regions of Alaska with the love of her life and twin daughters, it’s not uncommon to find her tapping away on her iPad on a windy beach or the barren tundra. Be warned, anyone and every even is fodder for one of Boone’s novels.
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Release Day Blitz ~ Cursed ~ Lynn Ricci
Posted: December 21, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Bewitching Book Tours, blitz, Cursed, Guest Author, Lynn Ricci, paranormal romance, Release Day Leave a comment
When Sarah Carter moves to Boston to escape her past she realizes there’s more than meets the eye with the landlord and her mysterious new best friend.
What happened to the owner of this Boston brownstone and what secrets lie within its walls and continue to torment?
And is she actually running back to her past instead of from it?
Excerpt:
Staring out of the small dormered window, he could just see the corner of the street. Leaves on the trees lining the sidewalk were moving past their prime of orange and red and turning brown as autumn made its way through Boston. The ones still clinging to the trees blocked part of his view. Absentmindedly he pulled his pocket watch out of his pants and checked the time although he instinctively knew it was still early. Purposely, he had chosen this spot to watch the street for a sign. He didn’t want to miss a thing.
Mrs. Casey was nearly three stories below waiting on the sidewalk next to her white BMW. He gazed down at the plump woman in her camel jacket and brown plaid scarf. She had just arrived and was on her mobile phone, trusty bag over her shoulder. As he watched from above, he wondered if he might keep her for a while. She had proven to be discreet and respectful in their dealings thus far –always keeping her eyes conveniently averted. That was a big plus in his book.
The sky had been bright blue and clear all morning but now the sunlight dimmed and small gusts of wind kicked up from time to time, stirring up the brittle leaves, scratching at the sidewalk and causing drifts against the wrought iron fence. He would go out and clean up the two small patches of grass in front of the building later, when it got dark. After all these years, he was comfortable working outside after nightfall.
A flicker of yellow caught his eye as a taxi turned from Columbus Avenue onto Dunhill – a small side street in Boston’s South End, lined with fashionable brownstones. He straightened his bent frame as best he could and intently watched the cab’s approach, completely absorbed in his surroundings and on high alert. Below, Mrs. Casey tucked her phone away and pulled her coat closed. Is it getting colder, he thought, touching the glass pane in front of him, the chill spreading through his fingertips.
The yellow checker taxi glided to a stop in front of the building and a young woman with ash blonde hair stepped out but held the door and leaned back in. His heart clenched as if it had been submerged in cold water and he grasped the windowsill to steady himself. From his vantage point, he could see the cabbie handing her some bills. She closed the car door and turned to Mrs. Casey, shaking hands. He wished he could hear the conversation, but knew that it would be pleasantries and then the expected basics.
Both women squinted up towards the window and he faded back as quickly as possible. He was sure he was a moment too late, but what did it really matter? He snuck another quick look and relaxed, realizing Mrs. Casey was pointing out items on the ground level – most likely the security system, or flower boxes. But as he continued to watch he finally saw it: the sign he had been waiting for.
Small gusts that had been making the crunchy, dry leaves rise and dance with their still colorful counterparts whipped up again a few buildings further along the street and came towards the women like a mounting wave. The leaves blew up waist high, swirling and twirling onto themselves until the force reached the women and spun around them in a leaf tornado. Mrs. Casey stepped back towards her BMW parked at the curb to get out of the maelstrom and the leaves continued, picking up energy and speed; surrounding the flaxen-haired woman, lifting and tossing her long hair like a Medusa at the center of the funnel. In reaction to the onslaught, the young woman covered her head with her arms and ran up the front walk toward the building to get out of its path. The wind disappeared and the leaves fell to the ground on the sidewalk as quickly as it had started. Overhead the sky was once again blue.
She’s here, he thought.
The leaves settled gently on the sidewalk. Sarah laughed, removing a few dry leaves that had snagged on her scarf and sweater.
“My goodness! It’s getting blustery!” Mrs. Casey exclaimed as she hurried across the brick sidewalk to the open gate that Sarah ran through, moments before. “Are you ok, dear?”
“I’m fine, really.” Sarah said almost to herself while smoothing her hair. “Just a little wind.”
“Well, dear, if it was any more wind it would have swept you away to Oz.” Sarah heard the deep Boston accent in the woman’s voice and felt immediately comfortable with the realtor. The cadence was almost like she was listening to her maternal grandmother, Rose. Growing up in Connecticut, her grandmother’s Boston accent was fodder for jokes, but she always associated the distinctive pronunciations with happy childhood memories. Sarah waited as Mrs. Casey reached into her oversized bag and easily pulled out a business card.
“Thank you, Mrs. Casey,” Sarah said as she examined the card. “I’m so glad you were able to meet me on short notice.” Sarah stood on the bottom step and waited as Mrs. Casey dug paperwork out of her briefcase. Glancing around the small front enclosure she wasn’t sure was big enough to qualify as a yard, she noticed the black wrought iron flower boxes mounted below the bay windows, full of deep russet, red, and burnt orange mums. Mrs. Casey finished pulling out the listing sheet and noticed where Sarah was looking.
“The flowers are lovely, aren’t they? You should see this place in the summer! I don’t know how he does it. No one ever sees him working in the garden but it’s always immaculate.” She leaned over and pointed to the side of the building indicating she actually meant around the corner. “Over there are the rose bushes. This is actually one of the few brownstones that has a little side yard since the alley cuts through there.”
Sarah looked at the old-world cobblestone alley. Mrs. Casey continued her garden tour, “Not big enough to do much with, but he keeps pink roses in the summer all along those wooden trellises.”
“It’s very nice. You can tell the property is well kept; it’s wonderful that he cares so much for the landscaping.”
“Everything is kept well. This was a grand house in her day.” Mrs. Casey stressed the last sentence as she looked lovingly up to the front door. The realtor continued with a tone of letting Sarah in on a fact already well known in certain social circles, “This is one of the prime rental properties in the South End, dear.”
Mrs. Casey started to climb the front steps slowly. Sarah wondered if it was her age that slowed her down but this seemed different, almost hesitant. As if on cue, the woman turned and looked down at Sarah, two steps below. She put one hand on the railing to steady herself before speaking.
“Before we go in, I must tell you something. We will be meeting with the owner in a few minutes. He’s very particular about his renters since he lives on the first floor.”
Sarah started to say she would make a good impression but the woman laid her gloved hand on her arm to quiet her.
“There’s more.” Mrs. Casey looked down at her feet in discomfort with what she was about to say. “He had an accident . . . of some sort. I am not sure exactly what happened but he is disfigured and very, very self-conscious.” Her eyes darted back to Sarah’s and locked. “Don’t act like you pity him. Don’t ask any questions about it. And, whatever you do, don’t look straight at him.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I really don’t know the extent of it. He tries to cover as much he can and I pretend like nothing is wrong. But it’s bad. I always keep myself busy and interested in looking at something else.”
“I will avoid looking at him. Promise.”
“I’ve lost some good tenants by them being too interested in him. He’s a proud man. He has done a lot of beautiful work; everything in this home has been lovingly maintained. The whole building possesses a charm you just don’t see anymore.”
Mrs. Casey searched Sarah’s face, making sure all this had settled in.
“Ready, dear?”
“Ready.”
About the Author:
Lynn Ricci was born and raised in the Greater Boston area. Her professional background is in financial communications and she pursues her artistic endeavors of writing and painting while enjoying an active family life with her two children and dog, Fenway.
A writer of several published short stories including Daydreams, The Dating Intervention was her debut novel. More information on novels available and underway can be found at www.lynnricci.com
Website: http://www.lynnricci.com/
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Guest Author Blitz ~ Vivienne Westlake
Posted: December 20, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: A Marquess for Christmas, Bewitching Book Tours, blitz, Guest Author, regency, short story, Vivienne Westlake 2 Comments
A widow in need of rescue. A dissolute Marquess determined not to marry.
When Violet Laurens is accosted on the road by thieves, a handsome stranger comes to her rescue. He is badly injured and doesn’t remember who he is, so she takes him home and cares for him. But the closer they become, the more Violet fears the inevitable moment when he must leave her.
The Marquess of Kittrick has vowed not to marry, despite his family’s wishes. He wants nothing to do with prim and proper young ladies, even a beautiful widow who makes him question all of his previous assumptions.
Every touch, every glance between them builds a passion that neither can deny—or control. But when Kit is no longer able to hide his identity, will he sacrifice his pride and claim Violet as his own? Or will he return to his dissolute ways and destroy the fragile love he never believed he could find?
Excerpt:
“He still sleeps fitfully, my lady.” Avery put his hand to the man’s head. “A little warm. We should get some ice and keep his temperature down.”
“And you have checked his bandages?” The bleeding had stopped, but the chance of infection was high. She stood by the four poster bed, looking down at her savior, who lay still and quiet, despite the people in the room.
“Yes, the wound is not healed, but neither is it as gruesome as it was yesterday.”
“And he has not awoken?”
“He tosses and murmurs and has managed the chamber pot a couple of times, but he does not speak and his eyes are glazed and unfocused.”
It had been two days since the incident. She prayed it was the laudanum keeping him so dazed and not his injury. But they could not be sure yet.
“If he does not awaken in the next day or two, we shall have to fetch Doctor Littleton. For now, let us keep him cool and make sure that someone checks on him every hour.”
Violet went to the window and opened it. The sky was cloudy and the ground covered with a thin layer of snow. “The fresh, cool air should do him good.” She rang the bell then went back to the bed and sat down. The man’s hands felt hot under hers, but she raised them to her cheek to be sure. Definitely too warm.
“My lady?” Miriam entered the room.
“Go and fetch some ice please. If there’s no ice, send a footman outside and gather snow. We need to keep him cool until his fever breaks.”
She leaned over to the small bedside table, dipped a cloth into a small ceramic basin, and wrung it out. “I will see to him for a while, Avery.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
Gently, she took the cloth and wiped the man’s face, always conscious of the bandage. She hummed as she worked. It was a very old song that she’d learned as a girl. Sometimes her mother would sing it as she stitched.
“Come live with me and be my love and we will all the pleasures prove. The hill and valley, dale and field, and all the craggy mountains yield.”
She washed his arms, noting each twist and turn of muscle. She even tested it with her finger to see if it was as firm as it appeared. Nothing about him was soft– except for his lips and the silky threads of his hair.
She brushed the towel over his neck and down to the exposed skin at the opening of his tunic. The hair there was thin and fine. She couldn’t help but stare as she swept over his chest. His nipples were wide, but tightened into little nubs when she touched them.
What would it feel like to run her palms over them? Would they react to her as they did to the damp cloth? What about her mouth?
Violet turned away and blushed. She closed her eyes and willed herself to remember him fighting off the thief and the moment when he’d taken the fateful blow. She needed to focus on her task and not on the yearnings she felt for a man she barely knew.
She might be fantasizing about a man of base morals or a man with a wife and four children. Or, what if he was a clergyman? That she doubted considering his skill with weapons and his readiness to fight, but what gentleman would watch an innocent woman get attacked by thieves and not come to her rescue?
A man does what needs must. Even a man of the cloth will take up a pistol if his life or his country demanded it. She had seen boys barely old enough to carry a gun with gaping holes in their chest and villages ravaged and burned in the war.
And this man would die like the rest, if she did not do her duty to him. He’d saved her and now she must do the same for him.
With such thoughts distracting her, she didn’t realize she’d paused her singing until she heard a low, gravelly voice.
“Sing.”
She looked down to see dark eyes watching her.
“You are awake!”
“Sing,” he repeated, but he’d barely finished the word when a ragged cough took over his body.
“A belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs, and if these pictures may thee move, come live with me and—”
“Be my love.” His voice was hoarse, even more than she expected for someone who’d slept for two days. She lifted from the bed to pour water from the pitcher into a cup.
When she lifted the cup to his lips, he coughed and it dribbled down his chin. “Easy.” They tried again, but still, most of the water ended up down his chest. His tunic absorbed the excess liquid and clung tightly to his body, so she could see every line and curve. His nipples hardened again.
“Let me try this another way,” she said. This time, she dipped her fingers into the cup and let the water drip into his mouth.
He opened wide for more. She leaned closer, her bosom near his face, and poured more water from her fingers.
After the third time, he put her two fingers to his lips and sucked them. A flash of heat shot through her limbs. If she’d been standing, she would have faltered and lost her balance.
His mouth was hot and she suspected it had little to do with his fever.
“More,” he whispered. He stared at her and she could not move, could not speak.
There was a knock behind them and that jolted her out of her frozen state. Miriam stood in the doorway with ice and more water. The man groaned.
She motioned for the maid to come in. As soon as the girl was close, Violet took a tiny chip of ice and put it in the man’s mouth.
The ice would help his thirst, but she also was afraid for him to speak. The need in his eyes was too real, too close to the desire that she felt. But he was a stranger. A beautiful, dark, bewitching stranger who had risked his life for her, yet she knew almost nothing about him.
A fact that she could remedy. No. What was she thinking? He was wounded, disoriented, and who knows if he mistook her for his wife or some mistress. A sharp pang twisted in her gut. Did he have a mistress? She’d already considered that he could be married, but she hadn’t thought about the possibility of a mistress.
He was a virile, handsome man with a body any sculptor would worship and carve into stone. She’d seen it all, every wicked inch of him. The thought of that body being pleasured by some other woman made her ill.
“Do you or the gentleman need anything else, my lady?”
“Perhaps the cook has some broth. But please make sure it is tepid, not hot.”
Miriam set down the tray of ice and curtsied before exiting the room.
He rubbed his temples, then when Miriam was gone, he turned back to her. Though he whispered the word, “Water,” his eyes said something else.
She plopped another ice sliver into his mouth. He sucked on it, watching her still. She felt a flush run down from her ears to her belly. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought his fever was catching.
A foolish part of her longed to demand if he had a mistress, but she bit her lip. That was not the first question she should ask him. And, he was so weak, it was better if he didn’t speak at all.
She put her hand to his mouth. “Do not try to speak, sir. You are weary and hoarse.”
He opened his mouth and before he could argue, she fed him another ice chip.
“You have a fever and you need to rest.”
His forehead was still warm. It could be a long night if his fever didn’t break. But he was at least alert for now, which was a good sign.
She stood up, intending to move aside the blankets and leave him with the sheet, but he reached for her arm.
“Don’t.” Under his stare, she froze again. “Do not. Leave.” Though the words were gravelly and low, it was a command, not a plea.
“Very well.”
She pulled aside the blankets, careful not to touch his thighs, and moved a chair close to the bed. The mere foot of space between her seat and the bed seemed much farther. Every little movement made her aware of the hard chair beneath her and the cool air brushing over her skin.
She missed the heat of his body next to hers.
About the Author:
Vivienne Westlake has been reading and writing romance since the age of fifteen. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature and when she’s not plotting stories about sexy heroes and sassy heroines, she’s buying a book on British history, watching the latest teen vampire show, doing an art project or singing karaoke with friends. Vivienne is an active member of Romance Writers of America, Romance Divas, and Indie Romance Ink.
http://www.viviennewestlake.com
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Guest Author ~ Pembroke Sinclair
Posted: December 18, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Bewitching Book Tours, death to the undead, Guest Author, Pembroke Sinclair 2 Comments
The battle that began in Life After the Undead continues.
Zombies changed her life completely…
Tough teenager Krista escaped to the safety of Florida after her parents were killed by the zombie horde. She united with General Liet, a distant cousin, and moved with him to North Platte to help build a wall to keep the zombies in the West. Krista fell in love with Quinn, a survivor and fighter from the zombie-infested wildlands of the West, and together they freed the garrison at North Platte from the power-hungry Liet.
But zombies aren’t the only enemy they have to face…
Now, North Platte is free, but Liet was not the only one using the zombie apocalypse to control their people. Florida is ruled by five ruthless Families, who use intimidation and the threat of the zombie horde to coerce their populace. Krista and Quinn hatch a desperate plan to run guns into the state and help the people revolt. Krista and Quinn, labeled as rebels run for their lives when the Families attack North Platte. The Families want them captured, the zombies want to eat them, and other survivors want them dead. Caught in between powerful forces, they must survive long enough to devise a new plan and put it into action, all while trying to solidify their new relationship and trying not to self-destruct in the meantime.
Find DEATH TO THE UNDEAD on Amazon eTreasures eTreasures
Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
“Rome wasn’t built in a day.” God, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that cliché. Dad was particularly fond of it when I had issues with homework or a dilemma in my personal life. I knew what his point was. He was telling me to be patient, to let things progress the way they were supposed to. But, I wasn’t good at that. I never had a lot of patience. I imagined my Dad reiterating the cliché after the North Platte takeover, wondering what he would think of what I’d done. What we’d done. We liberated Nebraska, but we still had a long road ahead of us. I knew Rome wasn’t built in a day, but I was pretty sure the zombies could destroy it in one.
I stood in the guard tower, overlooking the field. My body pressed against the railing. Corpses still littered the ground, but there weren’t as many as when I first came to North Platte. The crews had done a great job of cleaning up, though there was little they could do about the atrocious smell.
The sun sank beneath the horizon, casting hues of orange, pink, and purple onto the silhouettes of the undead. A bullet was chambered into a gun behind me. Quinn had been sitting in a chair behind me in the tower the whole time.
“Quinn, what happened to your parents?” I turned so I faced him.
Quinn rested the butt of his gun on the deck and wrapped his arms around the barrel. He sighed. “My mom died about seven years ago from cancer. I don’t know what happened to my dad.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when we heard about the first zombie attacks, Dad wanted to help. Most of the neighbors lived within a few miles, so it didn’t take too long for him to move them onto the ranch. One morning, him and a few of the others decided to venture a little further, see who else might need some help, and he never came back.”
My stomach felt queasy. I averted my gaze to the floor, then glanced back at Quinn. “Did you go look for him?”
Quinn shook his head. “He told me not to. He said no matter what happens, I was to stay at the ranch and take care of the people.”
“Yeah, but you must have been curious what happened to him.”
Quinn nodded and stood from his chair. “Of course, but I did as I was told.” He shouldered the rifle and lined up his sights. He fired.
I moved so I stood next to him. “Do you think he’s out there somewhere?”
Quinn glanced at me. “Probably. But I doubt he’s anything like I remember.”
“Doesn’t that make you sad?”
He returned his attention to the sight. “Every day. But there’s nothing I can do to change it now.” He fired another round.
I slumped against the rail. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I averted my gaze back to the field. I rubbed my sore shoulder. A breeze picked up, bringing a chill and the smoke from the funeral pyre. I wrinkled my nose.
“We need to do something about that.”
Quinn straightened. “Like what?”
I shrugged the good shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe we could put a building around it. It might help contain some of the smoke and smell.”
Quinn nodded. “You should suggest it at the next meeting.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted me. It was Pam. She still wore her old guard uniform, a relic from Liet’s reign, but it was obvious whose side she was on. Thank goodness she was on our side. She trained me; I knew how tough and skilled she was. It would’ve been a battle to take her down.
“Krista,” Pam said. “There’s someone who needs to see you.”
I pushed myself away from the rail. “Who?”
Pam motioned toward the courthouse. “I think it’s best if you just head over there.”
I looked at Quinn, who shrugged, then the three of us headed to the courthouse.
My stomach fluttered as I pushed opened the door. Visions of Mrs. Johnson’s bodyguard flooded my mind, and I didn’t think I could stand another visit like that. I held my breath as I opened the door. The person stood at the end of the room, her head down as she chewed on her thumb nail. Excitement rose in my chest and relief loosened my shoulders. A smile crossed my lips. I held out my good arm and hurried across the room. Normally, I wasn’t one for hugs, but anyone besides guards from Florida in the office was a welcome relief.
“Tanya! What are you doing here?”
Tanya looked up. She balled her hand into a fist and swung it over her head. I flinched, and the blow hit me on the bicep. Tanya lunged forward, flailing her arms. I crouched and covered my head. I didn’t know what else to do. I was so shocked, I froze. I couldn’t react. Several more hits landed on my back and head before someone pulled Tanya away.
“How could you?” Tanya yelled. “HOW COULD YOU?” She kicked and caught me on the knee.
Pain radiated through my leg, and I rubbed at the minor injury. Anger replaced the shock. Who did she think she was coming into my courtroom and attacking me?
“What are you talking about?” I tried to keep my emotions in check, common sense told me I needed to know what was going on.
“Don’t play dumb with me! You know what you did.” She jerked her arms out of Quinn and Pam’s grasp.
Really? Was she mad that we liberated Nebraska before we helped Florida? I didn’t think it was a big deal, but I guess it upset her.
“I’m sorry, Tanya. We had to move quickly. We had to set the people of North Platte free.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not talking about the attack.”
I stared at her for a moment. “Then what are you talking about?”
“You sent zombies down in the truck of supplies! You figured if you couldn’t overthrow The Families, you’d overrun the state with the undead!” Tanya yelled, then attempted to attack again. Pam and Quinn restrained her and stared at me.
I picked myself off the floor, staring at Tanya wide eyed. Zombies in the truck? What? When? Why would I have done that? I hate those things! I would have to get pretty close to put those in the truck, and I wasn’t willing to do that. But someone must have. Who would be stupid and conniving enough to do that?
“Tanya, honestly, I have no idea what you are talking about. Maybe you should fill us in on some details.”
Tanya snarled. “The truck showed up a few weeks ago, with Mrs. Johnson’s bodyguard behind the wheel. He said it had come from North Platte, and I assumed it had another shipment of guns. As usual, I was going to wait until night to collect the weapons. My father took the vehicle to the storage yard, like he always did. I was done working at the coffee shop, so I decided to see what you guys sent. I stood at the chain link fence, watching the guys work, when I heard my father scream from the trailer. The others ran to see what was going on, and a zombie lurched out of the vehicle. They ran.”
Tanya continued her story, and I pictured the whole scenario in my mind. She was a bit lacking on details, so I filled in the blanks with my own imagination. It wasn’t hard, especially when you’ve seen as many zombies as I have. There were three creatures, buried under crates. Two men, newly turned with just the slightest hint of yellowed skin. Their clothes were dirty but not yet torn. The third, a woman, she had been a zombie for a while. Her stringy blonde hair was knotted, caked in mud, and falling out of her head, only wisps remained on the bottom and right side. Her clothes had almost completely decayed, tatters of a floral print dress clung to her the bones exposed in her chest and legs. Her gray, wrinkled skin looked like leather. They hid in the shadows, hard to see, and for some reason, they didn’t moan like the others when food was near. The workers didn’t know they were there and had unloaded almost the entire truck. They were almost finished when the attack started. Tanya ran through the gate, making her way to the back of the truck, just in time to see her father beating one of the creatures with a tire iron. The third one was still pinned behind a crate. Her breath caught as she watched the creature’s mouth snap for her dad. Her dad panted with exhaustion. He leaned against the side of the truck for support. Blood, brain matter, and bits of skull were everywhere, and the smell was overpowering. Tanya was about to climb in, find out if her dad was all right, but he told her to stop. He collapsed onto the floor, sliding down the wall. He cradled his hand. The zombie had bitten him.
Tanya set her jaw. “The other one that got out of the truck attacked several of the workers before it was put down. I don’t know how many of them got bit, but within a few days, we had an epidemic on our hands. They got it under control, but thirty people got infected.”
Pam and Quinn released her, and she pointed a finger in my direction.
“You just couldn’t wait, could you? You just had to make all of us pay.”
My throat felt tight and a knot developed in my stomach. I swallowed hard. “What happened to your dad?”
Tanya snarled. “Instead of waiting for the plague to take its toll, he took care of himself.”
I lowered my gaze to the floor. My stomach lurched, bile rose into my throat. I took several deep breaths, but the feeling never abated.
“I’m sorry, Tanya.” I looked into her face. “I really, truly am. But I did not put zombies in the back of the truck. Why would I harm the people I’m trying to help?”
Tanya shook her head and opened her mouth to speak.
“Think about it,” Quinn interrupted her. “The Families were afraid of losing control. They knew about the rebellion here in North Platte, and they knew the people would soon hear about it. They had to do something to ensure the people wouldn’t revolt, so they planted zombies.”
Tanya stared at him for a moment, letting the information sink in. “Maybe,” she spoke softly.
I stepped closer to her. “Tanya, please, you have to believe us, we would never do anything like that. Smuggle guns to kill the regime, yeah, but we wouldn’t infect Florida with zombies.”
Tanya took a deep breath. “Maybe.”
“Didn’t Bill and Kyle tell you what was going on?” Quinn asked.
Tanya faced him. “They did.”
“What happened to them?”
She took a deep breath and averted her gaze to the floor. “After the attack and my dad’s suicide, guards, um, did random house searches and they were arrested.”
Pam’s, Quinn’s, and my eyes grew wide.
“What?” Quinn glanced from Tanya to me. “Arrested? Why?”
“They were outsiders.” she responded. “I guess they felt they were a threat to The Families and Florida.”
“Did they find out about the guns?” I stammered out the question.
Tanya looked at me. “No. Those are still safe.”
“How did you get here?” Pam chimed in.
“After everything calmed down, I took the boat Bill and Kyle came in on and found their vehicle in Texas. I made my way up here to you.”
“Do you know what happened to them?” Worry coated Quinn’s eyes.
“I’m sure they’re not dead. I’m sure The Families kept them for interrogation.”
Quinn rubbed his hand over his mouth, staring at me. “What are we going to do? Everything is ruined. I told you we had to attack simultaneously.”
Confusion and anger coursed through my body. “It’s a moot point now. We’ll figure it out. It’ll be fine.” What did he expect me to do? I couldn’t change the past.
The room was silent for a long moment. The group glanced at each other out of the corners’ of their eyes, then averted their gazes to the floor. My head spun. When we first took over North Platte and found out there had been a spy, I felt like I was losing control then, but after Tanya arrived, I knew I lost my grip. An all-out attack on Florida was out of the question. They would know what was coming. Plus, we were grossly outnumbered by Floridian soldiers. Despite the tragic nature of the event, a zombie attack wasn’t a half bad idea. It would keep the soldiers busy long enough for our people to get in and take control. There would be some collateral damage, but in the long run, it would lead to the liberation of the people of Florida.
I shook the idea out of my head. How could I even think of that? There were innocent people down there. Children. It wouldn’t work. Besides, three zombies had already done enough damage. I couldn’t believe Tanya thought we sent the attack.
Quinn grabbed my arm and directed me away from Tanya and Pam.
“We’ve got to evacuate the city.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you see what’s going on? Florida sent men up here to investigate what happened. They planted zombies in the back of the truck and blamed it on us. They are trying to rally the masses against us.”
“Yeah? So what else is new?”
“The people they sent here were the dregs of society. They were causing problems in Florida. They are still causing problems. This is the perfect excuse to wipe us off the planet.”
My stomach knotted. The color drained from my face. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew Quinn was right. They were probably on their way to level the city.
“There are two thousand and eleven people in North Platte.” I couldn’t raise my voice over a whisper. “Where are they going to go?”
Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is they can’t stay here.”
“What about Liet? What are we going to do with him?”
Quinn didn’t have the opportunity to answer.
“Everything all right over there?” Pam asked.
We faced her.
“No. I don’t think it is,” Quinn responded.
“Well, maybe you’d like to fill the rest of us in.”
Quinn glanced at me for a second, then back at Pam. “I think you need to call a town meeting.”
“For what?”
“Just do it!” I didn’t mean to yell at her, but I had no control over my emotions. The room spun and breathing was difficult, it just slipped out.
Pam hurried out of the room, and I sank to my knees. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. I felt light-headed and nauseous. I couldn’t believe it was this hard. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I felt Quinn’s hand on my back.
“You all right?”
I looked up at him. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a second.”
Tanya moved so she stood in front of me. Her knees popped as she knelt down.
“What are we going to do now? Everything has been ruined.” She lowered her gaze. “I ruined it. I can’t believe I was so stupid to believe you would have sent zombies!”
I took a deep breath and stared at her face for several moments. Anger clenched my chest. I wanted to tell her it was her fault, that she should have known we would never do anything so devious, but it wouldn’t get us anywhere. Her eyes were red rimmed and her shoulders slumped forward. She probably didn’t stop traveling until she made it to the city. Rage kept her moving. Her desire to see me dead or maimed fueled her journey. After she found out the truth, rage was replaced with sheer exhaustion. Sadly, her journey wasn’t even close to being over.
Besides, I wasn’t mad at her, I was angry at the universe. I was upset that my luck had run out. The same rage that kept her moving was going to have to sustain me. We still had a job to do, we just had to rethink it.
“You didn’t ruin it,” I told her. “You were just reacting to a situation you thought we created. It’s understandable.”
She placed her hands on the floor and leaned forward. “I want to help you fix it. Please tell me what I can do.”
“First of all, we’ve got to get the people to safety. Then, we’re going to disappear.”
“And go where?”
“The only place we have left. The West.”
About the Author:
I write fiction under the pen name Pembroke Sinclair, and I have had several short stories published. My story, “Sohei,” was named one of the Best Stories of 2008 by The Cynic Online Magazine. I have novellas and a short story collection forthcoming from Musa Publishing and eTreasures Publishing. I have two novels, Coming from Nowhere (adult, sci fi) and Life After the Undead (YA, horror), that are available from eTreasures Publishing, as well as Death to the Undead (YA, sequel to Life After the Undead), which is forthcoming. Life After the Undead was a Top Ten Finisher in the Preditors and Editors Reader’s Poll in the YA category and the cover art category.
Under my real name, from March 2008 to January 2011, I wrote scientific articles for Western Farmer-Stockman. I have a nonfiction book, Life Lessons from Slasher Films, scheduled for release in July 2012 from Scarecrow Publishing (an imprint of Rowman and Littlefield).
I have my Master’s in English, and I am a freelance content editor for Musa Publishing, as well as a former content and line editor for eTreasures Publishing.
http://pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3522214.Pembroke_Sinclair
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pembroke.sinclair
Guest Author ~ Marsha A. Moore
Posted: December 14, 2012 Filed under: Giveaway, Visitors | Tags: Bewitching Book Tours, Dragon, fantasy, Giveaway, Guest Author, Lost Volumes, Marsha A. Moore, romance 1 Comment
When Lyra McCauley learns residents of Dragonspeir’s Alliance are suffering with a deadly plague, she doesn’t heed the warnings of her fiancé, wizard Cullen Drake, to remain safe in her human world. After all, she’s the present Scribe—one of five strong women in her ancestry who possessed unique magic, each destined to protect the Alliance against the evil Black Dragon of the Dark Realm. With Cullen dependent upon Alliance power to maintain his immortality, the stakes are doubled for Lyra.
She leaves her college teaching and puts herself at risk for the community afflicted by black magic. To find a cure, she and Cullen travel into the vile, lawless underworld of Terza to strike a bargain with an expert. Their efforts further enrage the Black Dragon, vowing to decimate the Alliance and avenge the murder of his heir.
Lyra must secure the three lost volumes of the Book of Dragonspeir. Written by the three earliest Scribes, each book contains energy. Possession of the entire set will enable overthrow of the Dark Realm. Following clues into dangerous lands, Lyra and Cullen seek those volumes. His assistants, Kenzo the tiger owl and Noba the pseudodragon, prove invaluable aids. Only if they succeed, will the Alliance be safe and Lyra reach closer to the immortality she needs to live a life with Cullen.
Available on Amazon
Click HERE for a giveaway of copies of Marsha A Moore’s books.
Excerpt:
Lyra almost deleted the email marked urgent, suspecting some virus that might take control of her computer, but stopped when she realized the sender was her lover—a 220-year-old wizard, who rarely used a computer. She couldn’t open the message fast enough.
Lyra,
Alliance mortals and lower magicals are taking violently ill. I’m leaving the bookstore for a while to offer aid. DO NOT come to Dragonspeir. Stay safe in your world.
Love always,
Cullen
She stared at the screen, twisting a strand of her long hair. Leaning forward, she gripped the armrests of the chair. Her breath caught when she noticed how the dragon’s sapphire eyes on her new bloodswear ring sparked from the energy of her concern. His message left her undecided, reading between the lines and weighing the choices.
Those affected—mortals and lower magicals—seemed to place her in the risk group, obviously Cullen’s concern. However, those mortals were all born in Dragonspeir, while she originally came from Tampa. Lower magicals did include members of both worlds. But as the current Scribe, Lyra possessed inherited power at least as great as high-order wizards. She just didn’t fully grasp how to command her magic yet.
She did want to help. Since her parents and dear Aunt Jean died, the Guardians, wizards, dragons, and other residents of the Alliance were her only family. Lyra’s unique powers might be useful, especially since they now lacked an alchemist.
Eburscon disappeared after he attempted to steal her scribal aura, and she’d heard no reports of him since, so he was presumed dead by many. According to Cullen, no one wanted him back. However, living without a person capable of creating remedies for a plague or widespread illness had left many residents uneasy. Some talked about trying to persuade Tarom, the Dark Realm’s alchemist, to switch his allegiance. Two centuries ago, he served the Imperial Dragon, leaving only when he couldn’t tolerate working under Eburscon any longer.
Despite ranking as the top wizard, the Imperial Sorcerer in the Alliance High Council, Cullen lacked alchemical skills. Even though untrained, Lyra possessed a keen intuitive sense in the craft. She could help him. Aries guided the fire in her scribal powers and also fueled her impatience.
Lyra checked and secured Aunt Jean’s cottage since the last gasps of late winter storms in the upper peninsula of Michigan could be brutal.
Dashing off a few emails to her college students in Florida, she gave them feedback on their independent study in the Fantasy Lit course. She was glad her leave from on-campus teaching responsibilities continued until the next fall term.
Lyra saved and printed the chronicle draft of her bloodswear quest, completed at the end of last year. It was mid-March, and she’d almost finished the written account, storing magic in her words that would empower the Alliance—her role as a Scribe. The hard copy she stuffed into a commuter bag to work on later with the Imperial Dragon and the other three Guardians. She needed to sort through their research details that had helped her kill the heir to the Black Dragon. Additional supplies could be conjured from memory.
Outside, the dock in the backyard looked weather-beaten but sound. Waves from Lake Huron lapped at its old boards. In the flower bed, the first spring perennials peeked through the packed ground and would require plenty of care soon. Lyra hoped to be back in time to maintain what her aunt had loved so much. Crocuses stood bravely against the melting snowpack—a reminder.
As she turned from the garden, a large black butterfly flitted around her head. It was the same type that had spied on her before and been in her aunt’s room when she was killed—purple spots like eyes on its wings. Suspecting it was a transformed magical from Dragonspeir’s Dark Realm, Lyra swatted at the insect. Thinking that someone watched her leave caused a chill to run down her spine.
Finally shooing it to the nearby bushes, she lifted her head high, put her bag inside her silver Subaru sport wagon, and drove straight to Drake’s Bookstore.
After parking in back, she twisted her dragon ring to unlock the back door of Cullen’s shop, no longer needing the magical skeleton key. “Sheridan, I’m using your portal,” she called out.
From his cage on the showroom counter, the cicada chirped, “I already knew it was you, sweetheart. Nice perfume.”
Lyra shook her head. Darned bug never stopped flirting.
“By the way, Sire Drake told me to not let you pass. Something about an illness in the Alliance. Don’t make me use my magic on you.”
“I’m going anyway,” she replied as she prepared herself in the storage room.
“Like I knew you would,” he snapped.
She gave her ring another twist and stated, “Pateo porta!” In response, two metal bookcases moved apart. Between them lay the connector to Dragonspeir. She stepped across. The familiar tingling sensation now felt invigorating, when last summer it had frightened her. Her jeans, t-shirt, and jacket transformed into a full-skirted gown of light blue cotton under a navy cloak.
It was her first time back since being publically honored for completing her bloodswear quest and sorcery studies. She’d have to wait to find out if her new abilities could alter the clothing she acquired at the portal.
Lifting one side of the long garments, Lyra ran the short distance along the wooded trail to the location of the old, sentry tree, Gatekeeper Cranewort. Reminding her of the shape of grand live oaks in Florida, his branches spread wide and high, taller than any nearby. His large, flat leathery leaves were turned to collect the warm morning rays.
“Hello, Cranewort,” she called ahead. “I don’t mean to disturb your sunbathing, but I need to pass to the Imperial Dragon’s lair, or to the Meadow—whichever place I can help most with those who are sick.”
“Not sunbathing, child, merely enhancing my immune functioning to bolster my health after the harsh winter. Sire Drake instructed me to not permit your passage. He and all of us fear you will fall ill.” He lifted extensions of his roots into a spiky barricade, one of his gate-keeping defenses.
“Perhaps I can help,” she maintained, hands on her hips.
“It looks to be a horrible disease—elevated fever, chills, vomiting blood. Some are dying. Please stay here, Adalyra.”
“I’m not like any from Dragonspeir. I won’t get it.” Lyra hoped what she said was true but couldn’t turn her back on thousands who were ill.
“Well…you most certainly are unique.” He folded his leaves and tipped his trunk forward to look at her directly. “The Alliance relies on your special scribal abilities to battle the Dark Realm. Losing you to illness would risk too much. Be wise and stay back.” He smoothed down his bark and held out a twigged hand to her.
She stepped beyond his touch. “The entire Alliance is my family, and I need to help them.”
The gnarled tree let out a sigh and lowered his roots. “Very well. You have your own mind, and it is one of a leader. That is your inheritance from the four female Scribes in your family. But, I expect you to use every caution available. Sire Drake is in the Meadow. Stay with him.”
“I promise.” Lyra hurried toward the crossroads, which connected dozens of trails. There she selected the short path leading to the Meadow.
Pluch trees lined the trail. Their weeping branches, active with new sap, swept after Lyra in attempt to caress her golden hair, now grown almost to her waist. Flower buds on the bell flowers peaked out. The air held gentle notes of fragrant jasmine from the vine’s first purple flowers. She took a deep breath as she sped down the familiar walk. She had missed Dragonspeir.
Along the way, Lyra thought about her action, entering the land without permission. Although she recently passed sorcery training for all crafts except powerthrowing, Lyra only elevated her immortal status. In Dragonspeir, they used the term afflation—having received divine impartment of knowledge and strength to endure more physical hardship than a non-magical. Until gaining enough afflation to become fully immortal, she needed to be invited by the Imperial Dragon to be his guest in Dragonspeir.
As a new Alliance sorceress, the Imperial Dragon decided when he needed her. Lyra clearly broke his established protocol. But she often bent Alliance customs to suit her needs while working for the greater good. So far, she had only raised eyebrows, and no one troubled her. She hoped this time would be the same, but entering a plague-ridden land against orders was a bit different than wearing jeans or hugging dragons.
About the Author:
Marsha A. Moore is a writer of fantasy romance. The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing. Her creativity also spills into watercolor painting and drawing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transforming into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Crazy about cycling, she usually passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning kayaking and already addicted. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and that spiritual quest helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!
Find Martha online at her website, Twitter, Facebook, Fantasy Faction staff page, Goodreads, Google+.
Cover Reveal ~ Alicia Wright Brewster
Posted: December 13, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Alicia Brewster, Alicia Wright Brewster, cover, cover reveal, Forsaken Novel, Possession, Sizzling PR Leave a comment
It’s been less than a week since fallen angel Six escaped from Hell and cast aside her angelic duties. Six wants friends, a job, and a nice place to live. Maybe she’ll take a few night classes and forget about her past. She’ll especially forget about Luke—better known as Lucifer.
Luke has other plans. He’s determined to draw Six back into his life and back into his bed. To get what he wants, he won’t hesitate to call on demons or kill a few humans.
With demons running free all over the city, Six will have to set aside her personal plans. And when a demon makes an offer she can’t refuse, it could land Six right back in Hell.
POSSESSION is currently scheduled to be released on April 25, 2013
About the Author:
Alicia Wright Brewster is a mild-mannered lady of average height and above average paranormal obsession. By day, she works in an office. At night she’s an author, an electronics junkie, and a secret superhero.
In her virtually non-existent free time, she loves to read, watch movies, and eat food. She is particularly fond of the food-eating and makes a point to perform this task at least three times per day, usually more.
Guest Author Blitz ~ Maria Hammarblad
Posted: December 12, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Bewitching Book Tours, blitz, Brand New World, Maria Hammarblad, short story 1 Comment
When Alexandra wakes up in an unknown environment, populated by a cat-like woman with a tail and a hologram of a rockstar, she knows she has to be hallucinating. Maybe she hit her head, or finally suffered that nervous breakdown. It doesn’t get any better from finding out she died and was taken into the future by the elusive Adam, whom she can’t remember, or from people telling her she’s on a spaceship.
The last year or so is gone from her memory, and she has no choice but to try to adapt. As days go by, her new environment becomes more and more unnerving. She finds herself helpless, and completely dependent on a man who isn’t even human.
“Brand New World” is the first novella in the “Embarkment 2577” series.
Find BRAND NEW WORLD on Amazon.
Excerpt:
I was a real asset in a stressful situation: I slept through the computer coming back online. I woke from Adam stroking my hair and saying my name. It felt good. “Mmm, hi.”
“It’s a shame to wake you, but we need to go.”
“This is a very comfortable floor. You go save the day, and come back to get me when you’re done.”
He laughed softly. “I’ll find you a chair on the bridge that’s even more comfortable.”
“You’re not getting me coffee?”
“I wish I could. Here, put this on.”
He held out a peculiar visor to me. It resembled some futuristic scuba gear. “What? We’re going swimming?”
The man was the epitome of patience. When I didn’t take the visor, he put it on me. “We need to go to the bridge now, and you will need air on the way there.”
Wearing the breathing device was awkward, and the air had a peculiar taste. I could breathe though, so I didn’t complain.
He paused just inside the door to the corridor. “Stay right behind me, just in case. Are you ready?”
As ready as I’d ever be.
I squeezed my eyes shut when he opened the door to the corridor. No harm in delaying whatever horrors might await for a second or two, right? When I opened them again, Adam crouched next to three motionless bodies. “Are they… Are they dead?”
“They’ll be fine, but they’ll have wonderful headaches when they wake up. Come on.”
My plan didn’t seem all that great anymore. What about people who might be sick, or pregnant, or something. Would they die?
“Alex, I pumped in a mix of sevoflurane and nitrous oxide. They’ll be out for a while, but they’ll be fine.” His words woke me from my paralysis.
Strewn with bodies, the beautiful corridors turned into a nightmare. I kept trying to peek over my shoulder to see if a monster might be sneaking up on us, but the visor wouldn’t turn that far.
There was an unconscious Logg in the lift. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, unwilling to go in, and Adam pulled the furry body out.
“Do you think the others made it to the bridge before…?” My mental image of everyone falling to their deaths, put to sleep during the long climb was too horrendous.
He took my hand and led me into the elevator. “I think they picked up masks just like yours, and I think they’re waiting for us.”
Waiting? How could they be? We only had to climb eight floors, and they needed to go thirty-three. Oh no… “You didn’t let me sleep, did you?”
“Just for a little while.”
Great. The entire rescue operation stalled because I needed a nap.
Adam squeezed my fingers. “No matter what happens, it’ll be a long day.”
The top floor was almost empty. It would make sense to empty the ship from there down, and only a few stocky, furry bodies hindered our way. I stepped over one, hoping it wouldn’t wake up to grab my ankles.
About the Author:
Born in Sweden in the early 1970’s, Maria showed a large interest for books at an early age. Even before she was able to read or write, she made her mom staple papers together into booklets she filled with drawings of suns and planets. She proudly declared them, “The Sun Book.” They were all about the sun. She also claimed, to her mother’s horror, that her being on Earth was a big mistake and that her alien family would come and bring her home at any moment. This never happened, but both the interest in space and the passion for bookmaking stayed with her.
As an adult Maria’s creativity got an outlet through playing bass in a number of rock bands, and through writing technical manuals and making web pages for various companies and organizations. She did write drafts for a few novels, but the storytelling muse was mostly satisfied through role playing online on Myspace. It was here, while writing stories together with people from around the globe, she stumbled onto Mike. They started talking out of character, and she moved over to Florida to him late 2008. Today the two are married and live in the Tampa Bay area with three rescue dogs.
Besides writing and playing bass, Maria enjoys driving off-road, archery, and Tameshigiri.
Upcoming releases
Flashback, to be released by Desert Breeze Publishing June 2013
Operation Earth, to be released by Desert Breeze Publishing August 2013
Borealis XII, to be released by Desert Breeze Publishing November 2013
Fun Facts
Favorite color: Blue
Favorite food: Chicken with cashew nuts
Doesn’t eat: Mammals
Favorite TV Show: Star Trek TNG and Leverage
Favorite animal: Border Collie
Quotes: “Full Speed Ahead” and “Caffeine is good for you”
Find Maria on the web
Website: http://www.hammarblad.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mariahammarblad
Blog: http://www.scifiromance.info
Twitter: @mariahammarblad
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4114780.Maria_Hammarblad
Publisher’s website: http://www.desertbreezepublishing.com
Guest Author ~ Madison Daniel
Posted: December 11, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Downpour, Ember Series, Guest Author, Madison Daniel Leave a comment
A little sister lost.
A family tree withered.
A journey to save the past.
Max Valentine is a walking supernova.
On the run and searching for answers, his light darkens.
Dark skies on the horizon make his next chapter ominous.
His powers are fading but still he pushes toward the storm.
Embers still burn but can he survive this one truth…
…love is eternal but the heart is not.
About the Author:
Music is LIFE and the written word is our SOUL. Music and writing have been my true ambition since I was a child. I have used music in every form possible; writing it, performing it, healing with it, etc. I call it my “life’s soundtrack.” I have always written in some form, from comic books to screenplays to short stories and now the new series “Ember.” I have spent my writing life inspired by all the music of the universe, 80’s movies and eye candy. When not writing I enjoy dreaming out loud, challenging the real world and inspiring the ones I love. I have found a true passion for my stories and characters and am eager to share them with the world. See you on the next book tour…MD
Find Madison on the web at his Website, Facebook Author, Facebook Ember Series, Twitter, Amazon
Guest Author Blitz ~ Cynthia Gail
Posted: December 10, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: blitz, Cynthia Gail, Sizzling PR, Winter's Magic Leave a comment
Owner of La Bella Vita, a five-star day spa nestled in the affluent suburbs of Nashville, Tennessee, Beth Sergeant knows her elite clientele first hand. She attended their private schools. She was even engaged, although briefly, to one of their most recognized bachelors. But she never fit in to their social-elite world.
After losing his parents to a car accident at a young age, Nick Chester was raised by his grandfather, the wealthiest man in Nashville. When he chooses to socialize, he has a never-ending list of exclusive events and beautiful women vying for his attention. Yet he never lets himself forget that everyone has an agenda.
Beth can’t resist Nick’s charm and accepts an invitation to dinner, despite her deep-seated insecurities. She proves she’s nothing like other women Nick’s dated and learns to trust him in return. But just as the last of their resistance crumbles and true love is within reach, challenges from Nick’s past threaten to destroy everything and force Beth to reveal her most guarded secret.
Read a FREE first chapter sampler on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Reviews
“Heartwarming and Magical” ~ Romance Reviews Today
“I very highly recommend this book. The writing is excellent and the characters are realistic and easy to relate to. It’s full of drama, a little mystery, passion, and romance … Once I started, I couldn’t put it down … This is the first book that I have read by Ms. Gail and I can’t wait to read more!” ~ Life in Review
“The dialogue is engaging, the love story is dazzling and the romance sizzling.” ~ Author Janna Shay
Guest Author ~ Chloe Glint
Posted: December 7, 2012 Filed under: Visitors | Tags: Chloe Glint, erotica, Love in Ribbons, Sizzling PR, Trying for my Dom Leave a comment
When Cynthia goes to a bar with her best friend for their monthly night out, she expects it to be a normal evening. But when she goes to the bar, she gets picked as the lucky winner of that night’s prize.
“Lucky you,” her best friend says.
Cynthia gets presented with a sexy man named Frederic who is wrapped in ribbons. Little does she know that it is more than just his scrumptious body that she’ll be getting.
Excerpt:
The bar had a smoky haze that caused Cynthia Knight to cough. Her best friend, Alison, sat next to her nursing a gin and tonic. Neither of them spoke. There was no point in it anyway, because the noise inside of the bar was deafening. Just when Cynthia thought she wanted to go home, the sound of a loud microphone’s screeching distracted her.
“Ladies, ladies, and more ladies,” the man at the mike said. “Welcome to ladies’ night here at MJ’s bar. My name is Dee Wizard. Are you having a good time?”
There was the sound of loud screaming from the drunken girls in front. Cynthia and Alison grinned and exchanged glances. The two of them had been that way once.
Alison leaned over and said in Cynthia’s ear, “We’re boring, aren’t we?”
“I was just thinking that,” Cynthia said, laughing. “Remember when we were in our twenties and screamed at bars like that. Now we’re thirty-five, and you’re married and only get to have one girls’ night a month.”
“At least we get fewer hangovers,” Alison said, tossing back her head in laughter.
The two of them swung around in their seats and watched the show. Cynthia knew what would happen. One of the women in the crowd would be chosen to go up on stage and would get some embarrassing prize, probably a sex toy, and then everybody would laugh and get back to the business of drinking. After all, that was what happened every ladies’ night at MJ’s.
That was when something different happened. A man was led across the stage wearing a bright red bow across his perfectly sculpted chest. He had an eight-pack, eyes the color of swimming pools, and day-old growth on his chiseled jaw. He looked to be in his early forties, and he was as attractive as any actor that Cynthia had ever seen. She gasped and leaned over to Alison.
“Good Lord, I think that the gift itself is being able to look at him,” Cynthia said. “Five bucks says that when he isn’t being gift wrapped, he has a model wife and smiles at people for money.”
“Can’t deny that,” Alison said. “If I wasn’t married, I’d duct tape that man to my bed.”
Both of them sighed in unison and then dissolved into laughter.
“So what do you think of tonight’s gift, ladies?” Dee Wizard asked. “He’s sexy, and he’s ready to go upon unwrapping.”
There were more loud screams.
“Now, ladies, normally I choose the lucky woman out of the crowd to come up and get the gift, but tonight we decided to do something different so that you shy gals get a turn,” Dee Wizard said. “Underneath every drink glass, there should be a paper number attached. Whoever gets the number 3856 will be the winner of one date with Mr. Fredric Gantz.”
There was loud scrambling as all the women turned over their glasses. Cynthia didn’t bother. She never won things like this. She looked around at the crowd, watching for an excited face. None. Everybody around her appeared sullen and disappointed. She turned and gazed at Alison, who also had not even bothered to upturn her glass.
“Come on, ladies,” Dee Wizard said. “Somebody got to have the number.”
Cynthia turned over her glass and felt her face grow hot. 3856. She had the lucky number. After leaning over her shoulder, Alison gasped in shock.
“Anyone?” Dee Wizard asked. “Anyone?”
Cynthia was too stunned to raise her hand, but Alison reached over and forced her arm into the air and waved. Her excited shriek matched that of the girls’ in front.
“She has it,” Alison cried, still waving. “She’s 3856.”
Several women moaned in disappointment. Cynthia just sat rigid in her seat, unable to move. I won? Me? No way.
Colette loves being a submissive, but for the past three years, she’s had a drought of available dominants. It doesn’t help that her last partner ignored her safe words and made her skittish.
That’s when she sees Miller, a dominant who she met at a bondage club that she used to frequent. At the time, he had already had a submissive, but now, he’s single and on the hunt for a partner. The only problem is that he’s just as picky as she is, and he wants her to perform a rigorous test to see if she is worthy of being collared by him. Can she handle the heat?
