Welcome Awesome Author Keri Neal!
Today, we are celebrating her new release, FLIGHTLESS!
Pen was a Guardian, but one violent night took his wings. Ten years
later he is given the opportunity to earn them back.
Jade is spellbound by the new student. Pen is quiet, but she is
determined to learn more about him. When her terrifying past comes
back to haunt her, Pen reveals there is much more to him than she
could have ever imagined.
With his soul on the line, Pen cannot protect Jade if his feelings keep
getting in the way. But with Jade’s soul on the line, he must protect her
from unearthly forces who want her blood. Will the truth redeem them,
or tear them apart?
Get yours in print here or in kindle format here!
Who is Keri Neal?
Keri Neal designs book covers. Flightless is her fourth published book.
She lives near Austin, Texas with her husband, two children, two
hamsters and a snake. She crochets, sews, reads, paints and loves all
things artsy & craftsy.
Welcome Awesome Author Dana Fraedrich!
Join us in celebrating the release of her debut novel, Skateboards, Magic, and Shamrocks!
Check out an excerpt!
Taryn opened her eyes slowly.
Ugh. What a weird dream, she thought. Whatever I ate, I’m never going near it again.
“Hello there,” a deep voice said cordially.
“Agh!” Taryn cried, bolting upright.
BANG! Whatever she had been laying on was not a very stable
surface. The moment Taryn sat up, her support moved out from underneath her,
and she dropped to the floor several feet beneath her. She landed hard on her
elbows and knees, which reverberated up to her shoulders, wrists, hips, and
ankles. She swore and groaned painfully.
“Are you alright?” the voice asked.
She looked in the direction of the voice and cried out again.
There, standing not five feet from her, was a creature she had only heard about
in stories and myths.
The creature before her was a man from the waist up with short,
dark, thick hair and a stubby, cropped beard. His tanned chest was bare, and
from the waist down, was the body of a large, black horse.
“Don’t come near me!” she commanded, backing herself up against
a wall.
Taryn looked around for a minute and took in her surroundings.
As far as she could tell, she was inside a little house of some sort. She
looked up to see that she had just fallen out of a hammock that was hanging
from the ceiling. She then looked beyond her captor to see that the only way
out was beyond him.
“Who are you?” she demanded, the fear evident in her voice. “Why
am I here? Where is here?”
“Calm yourself,” the centaur replied. “My name is De’dua. You
are safe here in my home, as is your friend.”
“My friend?” Taryn asked in confusion.
“Taryn! You’re up!” came an enthusiastic voice from above.
The frightened teenager looked up to see Ozzie trotting down a
flight of stairs. He looked thrilled.
“Oh no, not you,” she groaned.
“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” he quipped, walking over to
Taryn. Giving her a hand up he asked, “Have you seen this place? It’s amazing!”
Taryn grabbed Ozzie by the arm and dragged him as far away from
De’dua as she could.
“Ozzie,” she snapped, “I don’t know if you noticed or not, but
we are not in Kansas anymore. I don’t think we’re on Earth anymore.”
“No. It’s okay. I’ve read about this,” Ozzie replied excitedly.
“We must have fallen into a rip in the space-time continuum and gotten dropped
here into an alternate universe.”
“That’s fiction, you idiot!” Taryn hissed. “Science fiction.
Stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life. We are obviously still dreaming or
hallucinating or something.”
“He seems real enough to me,” Ozzie said, pointing back at
De’dua, who was watching the two calmly. “Come on, we’re being rude.”
And with that, Ozzie walked back over to the demi-human, leaving
Taryn standing there with her mouth gaping open in shock.
Get yours here!
Welcome, welcome Awesome Author Veronica Scott!
VERONICA
SCOTT grew up in a house with a library full of books as its heart, and when
she ran out of things to read, she started writing her own stories. Married
young to her high school sweetheart then widowed, Veronica has two grown
daughters, one young grandson and cats.
Today we are celebrating her award-winning novel, Wreck of the Nebula Dream.
2013 SFR Galaxy Award
Winner...
Traveling unexpectedly aboard the luxury liner Nebula Dream
on its maiden voyage across the galaxy, Sectors Special Forces Captain Nick
Jameson is ready for ten relaxing days, and hoping to forget his last
disastrous mission behind enemy lines. He figures he'll gamble at the casino,
take in the shows, maybe even have a shipboard fling with Mara Lyrae, the
beautiful but reserved businesswoman he meets.
All his plans vaporize when the ship suffers a wreck of Titanic proportions. Captain and crew abandon ship, leaving the 8000 passengers stranded without enough lifeboats and drifting unarmed in enemy territory. Aided by Mara, Nick must find a way off the doomed ship for himself and several other innocent people before deadly enemy forces reach them or the ship's malfunctioning engines finish ticking down to self destruction.
But can Nick conquer the demons from his past that tell him he'll fail these innocent people just as he failed to save his Special Forces team? Will he outpace his own doubts to win this vital race against time?
All his plans vaporize when the ship suffers a wreck of Titanic proportions. Captain and crew abandon ship, leaving the 8000 passengers stranded without enough lifeboats and drifting unarmed in enemy territory. Aided by Mara, Nick must find a way off the doomed ship for himself and several other innocent people before deadly enemy forces reach them or the ship's malfunctioning engines finish ticking down to self destruction.
But can Nick conquer the demons from his past that tell him he'll fail these innocent people just as he failed to save his Special Forces team? Will he outpace his own doubts to win this vital race against time?
EXCERPT:
Back
pressed against the half open door, he stood for a moment, assessing the
current situation in the corridor. It now added up to pandemonium in any
language. The alarms were continuing to blare, inciting some passengers to
panic and immobilizing others. A prerecorded voice urged calm, in flat, female
tones, speaking in a rapid rotation of Basic and the five other primary Sector
languages.
No
one was paying the slightest attention. People ran in both directions, shoving
past each other. Some were half dressed, others were burdened with luggage.
There were no crew members at all.
Frowning,
he waded into the crowds, going to the left and staying as close to the wall as
he could. Since a Special Forces team's survival depended on familiarity with
all aspects of their environment, Nick had noted the location of the nearest
lifeboat portal relative to his cabin upon arrival the first day. Now he worked
his way aft to get there.
With
supreme- if sadly misplaced- confidence, the captain of the Nebula Dream had not seen fit to order a
lifeboat drill in the first few days of the cruise, not even after the middle
of the night engine anomaly. Lack of a drill, which was mandatory per the
Interstellar Commerce Commission regulations, was adding to the panic, Nick had
no doubt. Most had probably not even paid attention to the short holo on safety
the Ship played on first entry in each cabin. Now the civilians were clueless,
desperate, and those charged with responsibility for their safety were nowhere
to be seen.
As
he came up to the lifeboat portal, Nick was astounded to see the light flashing
red, indicating the LB had been launched.
What the fuck? There couldn't possibly have been time since
the sirens came on to fully load and deploy a boat, even assuming a full
complement of SMT crew had been standing by, waiting to usher passengers on
board.
Continuing
down the corridor, Nick wondered who took the LB, and how many people had
managed to escape with them. He suspected he wouldn't like the answers much,
but he intended to find out, after this was all over. For an event of this
magnitude, an ICC investigatory hearing was a foregone conclusion.
The
crowd increased in size and the screams and yells became more specific, the
closer he got to the next LB davit. Since Nick was a tall man, he could see
over the heads of most of the crowd. Despite the fact the alarms had been
raging for a good five minutes standard now, he could see the indicator light
was green; this LB had not even been unlocked.
"No
one's boarded yet?" he said, half to himself.
"Two
idiots up there, fighting over who gets on first, and neither one has a clue
how to open the damn thing." A stout woman in a garish pink and orange
robe spun to face him, her voice disgusted but shaking, tears glistening in her
eyes. "They wouldn't listen, not to me or anyone. I watched the safety
holo my first day on board, so I know how to open the portal, but would they
let me try? No, they would not. I got out of the way when they started throwing
punches."
Nick
wished for a squad of Space Marines or even one other Special Forces
operator. I could sort this out and get people loading. There was no time to
waste. Disasters in space tended to be abrupt, over with in a violent moment.
Whatever had happened to the Nebula Dream,
it was nothing short of amazing they weren't all dead already. Can’t push luck too far. He caught the
eye of the D'nvannae Brother, standing a few feet away, an appalled frown on
his face, probably over the loss of critical time.
Nick
jerked his head in the direction of the LB portal. "Watch my back,"
he yelled, wading into the crowd without waiting to see if the man would come
to his aid or not. This had to be done, with or without support.
Nick
tried not to hurt people, but he forced his way through the throng with
ruthless intent, stopping short about a yard shy of the door. Exactly as the
woman had told him, two men were on the deck, kicking and clawing at each
other, fighting over access to the locked LB. No one else could get by.
Reaching
down, Nick grabbed one man by the scruff of the neck, hauling him to his feet.
He was mildly pleased to find the D'nvannae Brother was right beside him,
dragging the second belligerent combatant to the other side of the LB access
portal.
Nick
sensed the crowd preparing to surge forward in blind panic, now the human
obstacles were removed. He wheeled, shoving the man he had grabbed roughly
away, knocking down two or three other passengers in the process. People
stepped on or over them in an instinctive rush to get closer to the presumed
safety of the lifeboat.
"Nobody moves until I say so!"
Holding up one hand, he used the tone of voice he would employ on a batch of
unruly, raw recruits, awesomely commanding.
"Quiet
down now," he said, watching the people in the front row of the mob,
getting eye contact, to personalize his commands, make them feel like
responsible individuals, not a mindless, panicking herd.
The
blaring sirens and recorded emergency warnings cut out, resumed briefly and
then died away in a slowly fading gibberish. The lights in the corridor
flickered, causing gasps here and there in the crowd.
"Are
there any SMT officers or crew here?" Nick said.
Desperation,
fear, and puzzlement on the faces in front of him. Many sidelong glances, mute
head shakes.
Silence.
"All
right, then. I'm Captain Jameson, Sectors Special Forces. I'm taking charge of
this LB portal. I need four volunteers besides this man," nodding at the
D'nvannae, "to help me keep order here. You can't all get into this LB. No one's going to make it off unless you
keep your heads and we go about this calmly and quickly.” He pointed at some
likely candidates. “You, you, you and you."
He’d
picked out a quartet of fairly good-sized men, who seemed calmer than some of the
others ringing him. Pointing at the Brother, he said, "What's your
name?"
"Khevan."
"Fine,
Khevan, you and these four gentlemen form a ring. No one gets by until I say
so. Watch my back while I open this damn portal."
Nodding,
the D’nvannae and the four men linked arms and established a perimeter. Nick
gave his attention to the locked access. Damn,
there should have been at least one SMT crew person at each LB by now, with the
unlock code, getting the civilians safely off the ship as fast as possible.
Nick spared a second and a small part of his mind to swear at the
inefficiencies and lax discipline of this ship's captain. Lucky for all these nice people I know how to open the thing.
Nick
scanned the portal info display as he keyed in a code on the access panel.
"Capacity 100 sentients," the label declared in Basic and the other
five languages. Okay, Jameson, quick,
calculate what the limit really means, what the margin of design safety
probably was. How many extra oxygen-breathers can I shove onto the thing
without killing them all?
As
the door cycled open, Nick assessed the waiting throng. The crowd, even larger
now, probably in excess of two hundred men, women and children, pressed
forward. They were pushing his ring of volunteers closer to him before the men
dug in and shoved resolutely back.
"This
LB can only support 125," Nick announced to the assembled passengers,
pitching his voice to carry to the edge of the crowd. "I’m not allowing
one more person to board beyond the limit. I'm taking children and their
caretakers first, followed by as many other adults as possible. Anyone with
children, come forward now. We've got no time to lose. No luggage! No
pets!" Nick pointed to the stout woman, who had followed in his wake
through the crowd. "You, what's your name?"
She
stepped forward. "Maud Panula."
"All
right, Maud, come stand right here next to me and keep count. Shout it out for
me every ten heads, then every five as we get closer to capacity."
"Who
appointed you Lord of Space?" shouted a red faced man in the middle of the
crowd, as the first nervous children and their relatives came forward, passing
through Nick's cordon. The
complainer
found a few kindred sentients who appeared to agree with him. An undercurrent
of ominous murmuring increased in volume.
"There's only a few of them–”
“No weapons- let's rush
them!"
"The
officer and I can kill with our bare hands," Khevan said softly from his
place in the center of the cordon guarding the LB access, his voice carrying as
easily as Nick's had. "You won’t gain entry to this LB by challenging his
order, I guarantee you."
Nick
listened to the count rapidly climbing, as more and more children and adults
streamed past him. Where the hell had
they all come from? "We're at eighty already," he announced to
the crowd, "If you don't like your chances here, better go find the next
LB."
"Where?"
screamed several despairing voices.
Nick
cursed the SMT Line again for their lack of preparation. "There are LB
portals every few hundred yards, going both directions, all three passenger
decks and on the Casino Deck."
Khevan
broke link with his fellows, to keep a burly man from getting past them without
permission. There was a rapid flurry of blows and the other passenger sank to
the carpeted deck, unconscious or dead. Khevan meant what he’d said, and was
obviously prepared to act on the threat. A large portion of the crowd melted
away, running frantically in both directions, in search of another LB where the
odds might be better, where no one was in charge. Nick felt sorry for them.
"You
get inside when the tally reaches 110," he said to his human counter. And once I’ve sent them on their way to
safety, I can go see about Mara, whether she’s ok, did she get off the ship.
He had her cabin number, obtained from the AI the first day, but he was hoping
she’d already taken a lifeboat. Even
then, I can’t leave until I know every civilian’s been taken care of.
UPCOMING
PROJECTS: Veronica also writes Paranormal Romance and the next book in her
“Tales of the Egyptian Gods” series will be out from Carina Press in September
’13. Currently she’s working on a new Science
Fiction Romance set in the same world as her award winning WRECK OF THE NEBULA
DREAM. You can find Veronica here:
A Big Ole Texas Howdy to Awesome Author Charlotte Kent!
Juliette Hill is the pseudonym for a creative writer
who is passionate about all things vintage, traveling with her husband and
exploring family history. She enjoys treasure hunting at local antique markets
and estate sales, searching for her next great ‘find’ that will spark her
imagination. Her desire to discover the story behind each treasure motivates
the writer within. Juliette’s other interests include planning family
gatherings, scrapbooking, cooking, shopping and dining out, to name a few. Her
stories involve multi-dimensional characters and generational plots which
bridge the gap between the past and present. She is currently working on
several projects for Annie Acorn Publishing.
Charlotte
Kent is the pseudonym used by Annie Acorn and Juliette Hill when writing their
collaborative romantic women's fiction series Captain's Point Stories.
Annie Acorn is the pseudonym of a prolific,
internationally published author, whose readership recognizes her mainly for
her women’s fiction, cozy mysteries and richly woven stories with a warm
southern flair. She is a founding member of From Women’s Pens – A Cooperative
of Women Writers. Annie is the mother of two sons, one of whom is married to
the best daughter-in-law in the world. She lives in the Washington, D.C. area,
where she has done extensive technical writing as a contractor. She owned a
tri-state medical outsourcing business for a number of years and was the
Director of a behavioral healthcare firm. She once flipped a comic book and
collectible retail company comprised of five stores, and she has managed
cemeteries and funeral homes. She is the owner of Annie Acorn Publishing LLC.
Ms. Acorn has published in The Inspirational Writer, and she edited an in-house
publication for the State of Mississippi. She is a contributor of ezine
articles. In her spare time, Ms. Acorn enjoys reading, writing mysteries,
listening to classical music, playing cards, and spending time with her family
and friends – often at a restaurant serving delicious food.
Today we are celebrating her novel A Clue for Adrianna
A Clue for Adrianna recently released by Annie Acorn Publishing LLC, is
the first novel in the contemporary romantic woman’s fiction series Captain’s
Point Stories that I am writing in collaboration with writer and publisher,
Annie Acorn under our pseudonym Charlotte Kent.
The pseudonym celebrates our efforts and sets them apart from our individual
work as Juliette Hill and Annie Acorn. Our collaboration has been smooth,
exciting and rewarding, as well as lots and lots of fun!
It all began back in January when Annie and I were
discussing upcoming WIPs for the year. She offered me the opportunity to work
with her on a romance series that she had been thinking about writing for years,
but was still fluid in her mind. I
always intended to start a series of my own at some point. Who would have imagined that, in approximately
90 days, we would have written, edited and published our first full-length
novel?
The process was amazing, as we’ve truly experienced
two creative minds being better than one, melding our similar writing styles,
voices, and visions. Our individual ideas about setting, characters and plot
development wove seamlessly together, creating a romantic, suspenseful,
contemporary, often humorous, women’s fiction novel. It’s our belief that readers will find
themselves falling in love again as they follow our main character’s journey of
personal growth and discovery of true love!
The fictitious town of Captain’s Point on Maryland’s
Eastern Shore is the setting of our series.
Living in Maryland as we do, Annie and I both have a soft place in our
hearts for the Eastern Shore with the area’s deep roots in history, its
picturesque towns and scenery, friendly residents and, of course, the close
proximity of both the Atlantic Ocean and the Chesapeake Bay. The commerce and lifestyle of the area blend
with our storylines, enhancing their beautiful imagery and larger than life
characters.
A strong cast of characters, who will grow and
change depending upon whatever curve balls life throws at them, are introduced
within the first book. Adrianna
Montgomery, the series’ central character, is a modern young woman who meets a
number of challenges that life throws at her.
Doors close, and she embraces others as they open. As her character exploded onto the pages,
Adrianna guided us through the episodes of her journey, dictating and
influencing our approach to her interactions with the other main players.
The series, as it’s developing, proudly embraces our
characters’ pasts and heritage while dealing with present day situations and
issues. Storylines highlight Adrianna’s
development of friendships and relationships with the residence of Captain’s
Point and beyond. Serious writing has
already been completed on the next three novels, within which the series merges
our characters business lives with fun, romance, courtship, marriage, children,
friendships, human failures and flaws as well as personal triumphs and
successes.
A Man for Susan, the second novel in the series will
be available August 1, 2013. The future
for our readers is bright indeed as we explore the wonders of Captain’s Point
together!
Interview by Juliette Hill of Annie Acorn
Question #1:
We were able to write and edit A
Clue for Adrianna, the first novel in our Captain’s Point Stories
series in the contemporary romantic fiction genre in approximately 90
days. Besides churning out sometimes
thousands of words a day, what do you feel was the secret to accomplishing such
an ambitious goal?
Annie Acorn:
It isn’t only the number of words we produced each day that led us to
accomplishing such a goal–the key to writing a good novel, which was our goal,
is saying what you intend to say in a way that will be entertaining and helpful
to the reader, if they should chose to learn from the experience of the
characters presented.
I am personally proud of what came out of our daily
collaboration, during which we continually reminded ourselves who these
characters were, what their lives were like, what their hopes and dreams were
and their baggage (or what they as individuals had to overcome) in order to
become the best they could be.
We put ourselves in the position of our characters
to truly understand their actions and individual growth.
Question #2:
Did you ever experience writer’s block while we were working on A
Clue for Adrianna or while you were writing any of your prior literary
works? If so, how did you deal with this
issue?
Annie Acorn:
I can honestly say that I have never experienced writers’ block. Scenes will come to me unexpectedly like a
gift but when writing a daily quota, what I do is reread the previous scene and
ask which one of the characters would take the next step, or who might show up
at the door–that sort of thing.
Question #3: How did you find the experience of our
collaboration on such a large undertaking like A
Clue for Adrianna?
Annie Acorn:
I have always had an overactive imagination and obviously you do, too,
Juliette. Every time I thought I had a
story line, you brought just as much to the table. By bringing our creative perspectives
together in the book, we produced vastly better material than we could have on
our own.
Saying that, there were three things that I found
during my experience: (1) knowing I was checking in with you each day kept me
writing; (2) having daily collaboration discussions helped me focus on
characters’ motivations, dreams and goals; and (3) I often saw your role,
Juliette, in collaborating as keeping me on track–true to the characters by
insisting that a character had to do something or not do something.
Question #4:
How did you approach this undertaking, given that this novel is the
first in the Captain’s Point Stories (romance) series, compared to any of your
previous works such as your highly successful Chocolate
Can Kill, the first in the Emily Harris Cozy Mystery series?
Annie Acorn:
First, in a mystery series, the author is constantly looking to move the
sleuth from one environment or group of people to another so that the reader
has a fresh suspect or set of suspects to choose from. With a romance series, a writer wants to set
up an environment and a broad group of strong characters that the reader will
want follow as they move forward together in the series.
When writing a mystery, one usually wants to limit
the number of characters to between 12 and 15.
While in an ongoing romance series, the more characters that are
casually introduced the better, without confusing the reader.
Question #5:
What if any, surprises or unexpected challenges did you encounter during
our collaborative effort?
Annie Acorn:
I was surprised by how much fun that it was! At the start, I had carried around a setting
for a series for 30 years–a young woman that inherits a large money pit
property in a small town who meets a cast of characters who change, broaden and
enrich each other’s lives. On Jan. 10,
2013, I had no plot, no characters, no message beyond the single woman and the
house. In point of fact, the town of
Captain’s Point is small but the house is not at all what I had envisioned nor
is the character of Adrianna. After we
started, Adrianna took on a life of her own.
When she became defined, she dictated how we would move forward
imagining the people around her and who might be thrown in her path that we
could draw upon for the story.
The second surprise would be how much fun it could
be to write collaboratively with another author who’s voice and vision are so
similar. I found it stimulating working
with another accomplished author such as yourself, Juliette. Our brainstorming sessions were amazing.
Question #6:
Working with you on this endeavor has been a dream-come-true for me and
I have learned so much about completing a full-length novel. What would you say is the greatest lesson
that you’ve learned from this experience?
Annie Acorn:
Having written for more decades than I care to reveal, after all, Annie
Acorn writes blog posts as– A Tired Older Woman… , it was wonderful to reaffirm
that you’re never too old to take on a new challenge and stretch your talents
such that they may be.
Second lesson:
Annie Acorn really does need 8 hours sleep a night rather than 4!
Question #7:
Was there anything about the collaborative approach to writing this
novel that has surprised you?
Annie Acorn:
At times, A Clue… poured out of me!
So many words wanted to come out that it would have been physically
painful not to put pen to paper.
For days on end, I would go to bed, only to wake up
three hours later having to complete one or two chapters that were ready to be
borne. Being A Tired Older Woman… this
took its toll–flipping my days and nights, forgetting to eat–a slave to my
words. At the end of the day, reading A
Clue for Adrianna–it was all worth it!
Question #8:
Since A Clue for Adrianna is your first novel which would be categorized
primarily as a romance, what have you found to be the most appealing aspect of
working in this genre?
Annie Acorn:
Having the opportunity to fall in love again. I have occasionally on my blog annieacorn.com
mentioned that I’ve been a widow for almost 20 years, writing this story of
two, three-dimensional true to life young professionals, whose paths have met
at a crucial time during which they fall in love, has allowed me to relive the
time when I fell in love and married my soul mate.
We set out to write a romance and what we wrote was
a romantic women’s fiction novel taking our work way beyond our initial
expectations. Our characters are so
strong!
Question #9:
What do Charlotte Kent’s readers have in store for them in the near
future?
Annie Acorn: Lots of fun and romance! A Man for Susan, the second novel in our
series has a projected launch date of August 1st! Substantial writing has been completed on
this work. At the moment, we have five
books in the works with others to come.
Romance and humor consistently flow through all five books as do a
strong cast of characters experiencing and learning from life surrounded by
friends and family at Captain’s Point.
Thank you so much, Annie, for spending this time
with us and sharing your personal experiences, so that our readers and fellow
authors have a better understanding of what motivates and influences you as a
writer, as well as insights into our new collaborative undertaking, the Captain’s
Point Stories series!
Thank you for hanging out here today!!!
How can readers get in touch with you and get a copy of this awesome book?
On
Twitter: @CharlotteKent20
@JulietteHill1
@Annie_Acorn
By
Email: charlottekentromances@gmail.com
onevintageheart@gmail.com (Juliette
Hill)
annieacorn11@gmail.com (Anne Acorn)
Websites/Blogs: www.annieacorn.com
Welcome Awesome Author Christine Steendam today!
Christine has been
writing stories since she could put pen to paper and form words. Now, many
years later, her debut novel is scheduled to be released and her second book is
in the works.
Christine has spent
the better half of her life owning and working with horses, and these four
legged companions often find their way into her stories. After all, no work of
women’s fiction would be complete without a horse or two (in Christine’s
opinion at least).
She currently makes her home in the center of
the world—no, really. Look at an atlas!
Today, we are celebrating her novel, Heart Like an Ocean!
In a society where she doesn't belong, Senona Montez, a strong-willed and free-spirited woman refuses to follow the path expected of a Don's only child.
On the eve of her marriage to a stranger, she saddles her horse and flees everything she knows, only to discover the petty concerns of society did not prepare her for the harsh life on the open sea. She finds an unlikely protector in a reckless privateer, Brant Foxton.
Straddling the worlds of independence and privilege in 1600's Europe, this captivating man challenges her in ways she never thought possible, shows her what living to the fullest really means, and allows her to follow her heart wherever it leads.
Heart Like An Ocean
Excerpt:
Spain-1666
Senona looked around the
room full of swirling dresses of so many shapes and colors. It was like a dream
and left her overwhelmed and unable to tear her eyes away. Tonight she was a
princess in her new dress with her hair curled, cascading in loose waves down
her back. Tonight she was perfect.
Browsing the room, this
time in search of familiar faces, Senona spotted Caton Amador, and Isidro
Amato. The boys, although older, were her friends and a welcome relief to the
overwhelming nature of her surroundings. She made her way around the perimeter
of the room in their general direction.
Isidro was never very
serious about anything and enjoyed teasing Senona, which annoyed her to no end.
Caton was much more subdued and quiet, at least around her. Although they were
not as close as they once had been, the families remained good friends, and the
three of them spent many hours riding around the countryside or playing games
in the garden. When they were younger, Isidro and Caton had been her constant
companions, helping her sneak out of tea with their Madres or rescuing her from
lessons with her tutor. Now they never voluntarily saw each other, but due to
their families’ relationship, they found themselves together often
enough.
“Senona, my Chica! You are
a picture of beauty, as always,” boomed Isidro’s obnoxious and teasing voice.
Caton turned to look at the
young girl. “Leave her alone, Isidro.”
“Come on, Caton. She’s glad
to see us.”
Caton frowned but said
nothing, turning his attention back to the pretty girl standing next to him.
Isidro seemed to accept that as permission to continue, and he smirked
mockingly at Senona, beckoning her. The small flock of girls that surrounded
the two boys giggled, causing her to blush and become hesitant and
uncomfortable. She had never seen the boys in this environment, and she quickly
questioned her decision that she belonged with them.
“It’s okay, Isidro. I just
wanted to say hello.”
“Well then, run along.
There must be some of your friends around.”
Senona forced a smile and
turned to Caton. “Hello, Caton.”
He barely acknowledged her
with a brief glance and nod in her direction, and then returned to ignoring
her. Unsure of how to deal with Caton’s rejection, she walked away, her eyes
burning with angry tears that threatened to spill over. Why was he being so
rude? Not even so much as a hello, as if he were embarrassed to be associated
with her.
As she pushed her way
through the crowd, she heard one of the girls laugh. “Caton, I do believe you
hurt her feelings.”
Caton’s deep, unmistakable
chuckle cut through the din and his voice was all she heard. “She’s a silly,
strange girl. I would rather not encourage her.”
Senona expected this
behavior from Isidro, but from Caton? She had always thought he was honest and
simple, but his actions tonight had shown her otherwise. She had been a fool to
think that these older boys were her friends.
Escaping into the shadows,
she hid from the sneering glances and mocking laughter that seemed to follow
her wherever she went. She had thought that tonight would be different, but
nothing had changed. She was just a strange little girl.
The night was a blur, a
blur of swirling skirts and obnoxious voices. To nearly everyone she was
invisible. Even her Madre and Padre, who had never been overly affectionate
towards their daughter, seemed to have completely forgotten her existence. But
that wasn’t so different from normal. They weren’t very affectionate people
ever, even towards each other.
At the end of the night,
Senona lay in bed, her new dress hanging in her wardrobe, mocking her. She had
realised tonight how far she fell from society’s standards, her own parents’
standards. Any illusion she had of being a princess, of being perfect for one
night had been shattered. But that didn't really bother her. The truly odd
thing was that she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps she didn’t
have to be that way. Perhaps now she had the freedom to do as she wanted. It
wasn’t as if anyone cared about her anyway. She was just a strange little girl.
Get your copy here!
Contact Christine here!
Welcome to the Barnard strand of the web, Awesome Author Leslie Garcia!
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Jovi stood at the window in the office, looking out at the
girls cantering around the nearby training ring. Selina, the tall, quiet one,
was sitting easily on the leopard Appaloosa, laughing and looking happy.
Michelle and Amy were riding with confidence, though neither seemed
particularly outgoing or cheerful. But Dell told him they tended to be quiet
and serious, still troubled by the problems that had brought them here. He’d
been surprised the three girls were on the ranch on a judge’s informal agreement
with their mothers and were participating in what amounted to a summer camp for
troubled teens.
His mouth
twisted as his gaze turned to Maribel. She sat rigidly on the big, gentle bay
she rode, and unlike the others, her face was etched into hard, unfeeling
lines, her mouth tightly compressed. He didn’t know her story, he realized;
he’d barely seen Dell since he started, and she’d said nothing about this
bitter young woman who showed up one afternoon using a vocabulary that made
Pete, the elderly groom, shake his head and mutter “perdida” whenever he saw her.
Jovi
grimaced. Pete was from a time of manners and respect, in spite of his job or
circumstance. The man was probably right, too — he suspected Maribel truly was
a lost cause. He squinted back in the direction of the ring, watching the
players moving unknowingly across their stage. Not for the first time, he felt
a small prick of guilt over being here to find evidence of Dell’s innocence —
or guilt — in drug running.
About Leslie...
“Everything you enjoy was written by someone.” That’s a credo I drum into the heads of my
south Texas first graders, and something I’ve always believed absolutely. Books, obviously, songs, movies, video games--to
some extent, all started with words, and words are a writer’s tools.
My writing
career began in first grade, when my principal hung my Christmas story on the
bulletin board at Mt. Carmel Elementary in Douglasville, GA. My first sale came later that same year, when
a children’s magazine called Kids
sent me $1.50 for an awful poem about dolphins, but strengthened my resolve to
succeed. Eventually.
My most
current release, Unattainable,
is my debut novel with Crimson Romance, and represents one of those joyous
stops along this road I’ve followed all my life—the road of a writer, which
doesn’t always go anywhere, but can never end.
Unattainable is set in south Texas, a
place where cultures meet, clashing sometimes but also melding into memorable
traditions, customs and people unique to the storied banks of the Rio Grande.
La Llorona (The Wailing Woman)
is also specifically a story of the Rio Grande, with its loose retelling of the
century old legend of a murderous mom.
I’m especially proud of my Llorona
anthology, with its mix of current fiction with treasured legend, poetry, and
an essay on Casey Anthony and her kindred spirits.
Gone are
the days of youth when I wanted to preside over the family’s roadside amusement
park in rural Georgia; I traded those crazy years for a more pragmatic life in
Laredo, Texas surrounded by four “personal” children, 9 grandchildren, and 20+
“loaner” children every new school year.
And a beagle with more attitude but less virtue than Charles Schultz’s Snoopy.
Writing? Think of it as a survival skill. I always have.
How to contact Leslie ...
My Facebook Author’s Page: www.facebook.com/LeslieP.Garcia
Twitter: @LesliePGarcia
Website (this sort of is my web site until I find a host I
actually like and have time to keep up with--right now I don’t exactly have
one!) : http://wp.me/P1UMZo-4
Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/lluvia27/
Join me in welcoming Awesome Author Elyse Salpeter to my little bloglet today!
Today, we're celebrating Elyse's debut novel, Flying to the Light! Get your copy here! And guess what! The sequel, Flying to the Fire, releases in March!!
Seventeen year old Michael Anderson and his deaf kid brother, Danny,
find themselves in mortal danger after their parents are kidnapped. Michael
discovers Danny has a special gift—he knows what happens after a person
dies—and now others want to know too. The brothers must outwit and outrun
Samuel Herrington, a lethal biophysicist, the FBI, and even fellow Americans in
a harrowing cross-country chase, because whoever gets to Danny first will have
the power to rule the world.
Here's a teaser!!
Day 4—Thursday, 5:00 a.m.
He felt old. Not the kind of old where someone simpers along in a
blessed Alzheimer’s oblivion and nurses tend to your every need, but the kind
of old that nightmares bring. The old that if he closed his eyes to go to bed
for the night, there would be the lingering fear he might not wake up in the
morning—that this might be his last cognizant night on Earth.
Michael was so terrified he couldn’t breathe. His safe, little
world had shifted out of its comfortable orbit the moment his parents were
kidnapped, propelling him to places he never dreamed imaginable. Suddenly,
there was horror everywhere and nothing was what it appeared to be. How could
life go so terribly wrong in just a few hours? He had had no time to think. He
couldn’t plan, but just reacted to what was happening. A storm, more volatile
and dangerous than a level five tornado had turned his world inside out and all
he could do was attack it head-on, swallowing his fear and living strictly on
the adrenaline pumping furiously throughout his body, hoping against hope his
luck wouldn’t run out.
The only thing he knew was that now his little brother was his
responsibility. An innocent six-year old who for some reason the world wanted
to claim as its own to exploit.
Michael wouldn’t let them win. He would protect his brother with
his life.
He glanced at Danny, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat.
He could see his brother’s furrowed brow and pale face in the flickering glow
of the highway lamplights. Michael felt like they’d been through a war, racing
right along with the military guys in the Middle East right now.
Just as the rain began hitting the windshield, Danny started to
whimper.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He wondered if
he could fulfill that simple promise. He took one hand off the wheel and patted
his brother’s head. Danny immediately calmed. Still, he wouldn’t have responded
even if Michael had shouted. Danny was deaf, and that, among other things, was
one of the reasons they were in this car fleeing across the country. They were
running far away from their home, trying desperately to get to a small town in
northern California. Mr. Daley had said there was a man there who could help
them. Daley was Michael’s high school biology teacher and the only person in
Rockland County who wasn’t out for the glory, the money, the prize of
scientific discovery, or the chance to see the light.
The Night Before
Day 3 Wednesday 9:30 p.m.
“Michael, what the hell are you doing here?” Daley asked, incredulous
when he and Danny, having nowhere else to turn, stormed into the biology
classroom. The teacher had been working late, setting up science experiments
for the next day’s lessons, and was just in the middle of laying out rows of
beakers when they burst in on him. One look outside at the advancing mob,
brandishing their sticks and bats, and he knew what was happening. How could he
not? He had seen the boys’ faces plastered all over the evening news. The
things they had been accused of. He immediately ran over and shut off the
overhead lights so as not to attract the attention of the mob. Turning on the
small lamp next to his desk, he turned to the boys, and didn’t like what he
saw.
The Michael before him was not the young man who had been in his
class days before. The calm and humble introvert who preferred to hide behind
his long dark hair rather than admit to anyone how brilliant he really was had
disappeared. Now he was nearly unrecognizable from his former self. Deathly
pale and sweating profusely, he ran his hands through his hair and paced the
room, racing from one window and then back to the door to make sure it was
locked, and then repeating the actions, over and over. He reminded Daley of a
drug addict in need of a fix. Danny was no better. His dark brown eyes were
wide, fearful saucers as he watched his brother do his strange dance, a look of
helplessness spread across his features and showing in his sunken sockets.
He heard fighting outside. There wasn’t a lot of time. Daley
grabbed the pad on his desk and started scribbling. “We’ve got to get you guys
out of here before that mob finds you. This is the name and address of an old
friend of mine. He’ll be able to help you. At the very least, it’ll put some
distance between you and them.” He jerked his head towards the window.
Michael glanced out the window again. “Who is he? Another teacher?
Someone from the government?”
Michael’s voice rose agitatedly, bordering on panic, and Daley
knew he had to calm him down, had to get him under control. “He’s someone you
can trust. He’ll know what to do. Here, I’m giving you my car.” He handed
Michael the keys, but the kid started to protest. After running with his
brother for days, the boy must be exhausted and probably felt he couldn’t trust
anyone. Well, his feelings didn’t matter right now. Michael had to listen to
him. It was the only way to keep him safe.
Daley grabbed the kid’s elbows and pulled him close until their
faces were only inches apart, forcing Michael to confront him.
Michael tried to pull away, started to fight him, but Daley held
him firm. “Get it together, kid. You’re not a child, so don’t act like one.”
Michael stared defiantly at his teacher, his green eyes squinting
angrily. It was a look Daley was relieved to see. The kid hadn’t lost it completely.
“Good,” he started. “Your brother needs you and you’re the only
person who can help him right now. Do you understand me?” He forced the keys
and note into Michael’s hands, squeezing the kid’s fingers closed around them.
Michael didn’t say anything, but he took them and Daley breathed a
sigh of relief.
Daley felt Danny by his side. He looked down, and the little guy
took his palm and kissed it. A moment later five black crows landed on the
windowsill, squawking loudly.
Daley stared at the birds, trembling. It’s true, he
thought, awed. He pulled his gaze away from the window and spoke quickly. “It’s
time to go. The car is in the back parking lot, the blue Honda with a Badgers
Football bumper sticker. And here, take this, too. You’ll need it.” He opened
his wallet and took out some cash. He placed it in an envelope, which had been
on his desk and thrust it into Michael’s hands. Daley then ushered them down
the back staircase and out the rear entrance of the school towards the parking
lot.
As the boys pulled out of sight, the tires squealing against the
pavement, the first group of townspeople began searching the school. He heard
their muffled shouts echoing through the empty halls. Daley breathed a sigh of
relief until the crowd noticed the small flock of birds on the sill and went
into a frenzy. Immediately, they started breaking doors and smashing windows,
all trying to be first to get into the school and apprehend Danny.
Hidden in the shadows, Daley took out his cell phone and dialed.
When the familiar voice answered, he smiled. “They came just like I told you
they would. I sent them on a wild goose chase to some phony address in
California near the home base. No, Mr. Herrington, don’t worry about it, the
car’s got a tracking device. We’ll pick them up once they get out of state.
Have your men keep close tabs on them until I call in next.” He closed the
phone and put it back in his pocket.
Daley turned to stare at the school, shaking his head. A window in
his lab shattered as someone threw a chair out of it.
“Run, my boys, run,” he whispered to himself, turning and
disappearing into the night.
Michael glanced up from the road for a moment and using his
thumbnail, he opened the envelope Daley had given him. Inside was four hundred
dollars. His anger at his teacher for treating him like a child abated and he
calmed down, shaking his head at the generosity the man had shown. His turned
his gaze to Danny. He was sound asleep, but Michael knew he was probably
dreaming of birds, and, of course, the light.
How to contact Elyse...
Twitter: @elysesalpeter
Join me in welcoming fellow West Texas gal Tiffany A. White to my blog today!
Today, we're celebrating the release of Tiffany's debut YA mystery, Football Sweetheart!
High School Football
can be MURDER
Aimee Freeman is
looking forward to the start of her senior year. She knows her best friend Ella
has been keeping secrets from her all summer long, but with football season
right around the corner, the student trainer decides not to worry about
it-they'll have plenty of time to catch up on the field.
Then Ella goes
missing, and Aimee realizes those secrets might be the key to finding her. As
the case unfolds, Aimee discovers more than one person may have wanted to harm
Ella. Was it Ella's current boyfriend, a social outcast the entire city seems
intent on blaming for her disappearance? Or her ex-boyfriend, the beloved star
quarterback who has harassed Ella since their breakup? The list of potential
suspects continues to grow after Aimee reads Ella's journal, but she must first
break her best friend's secret code to reveal their identities.
Football Sweetheart
High school
football is life in West Texas. Little
boys and girls dream of their futures, fantasizing about their high school
careers as all-star quarterbacks and head cheerleaders. Families move to different parts of town to
ensure their sons will play in the dominant program and their daughters will
cheer for the top team. Families fight
and deceive to ensure their sons experience this once in a lifetime opportunity
of playing football at one of the most prestigious schools in Texas High School
football history. Parents also watch
their daughters tumble their way through childhood, hoping to see their little
girls stand on the sidelines and cheer every Friday night in the fall. Regardless of whether or not a household has
a child participating in these programs as players, trainers, cheerleaders,
band members, or drill team dancers, everyone supports the team. The community
practically presents these students with the key to the city. These accommodations generate an entitled
atmosphere with these teenagers. Some
would even say the football players and those associated with them get away
with murder.
A teaser ...
Join me in welcoming Christine Steendam to my blog today!
Christine's debut novel, Heart Like an Ocean releases today, February 7th, so enjoy!!
Welcome Keri!! Congratulations on your new release!! Tell us a little about TORN.
Sounds great! Can we have a teaser?
***
Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction/General/Christian/Fantasy/Romance/Paranormal/Ghost/Visionary & Metaphysical
Release Date: January 10, 2013
Digital ISBN ISBN 13:978-1-939217-26-4 10:1939217261
Print ISBN ISBN 13: 978-1-9-939217-27-1 10:193921727x
Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.htm
Dacque LaRose, a genuine good-guy and Good Samaritan, was accustomed to being visited by and
communicating with disembodied spirits as he carried out his occasional assignments received from the
Heavenly Powers. His latest spirit visit went miles beyond anything he would have ever imagined. The spirit of
a former acquaintance and recent murder victim joined Dacque one morning on his favorite park bench and
asked him to assist in solving his murder as the local authorities were getting nowhere, through no fault of their
own but due to a lack of any substantial evidence in the case.
Dacque had absolutely no idea how he could be of assistance in solving a murder, but he was accustomed
to receiving his Heavenly assignments one installment at a time so he knew the steps he would be expected to
follow would appear in due course.
Dacque’s new assignment proved exciting and educational as the spirit of the murdered acquaintance gladly
explained to Dacque and his detective friend the inner workings of the Soul Mind or subconscious mind.
Doug Simpson is a retired high school teacher who has turned his talents to writing. His first novel, a spiritual
mystery titled Soul Awakening, was published in the United States in October of 2011, by Book Locker. His
magazine and website articles have been published in 2010 to 2012 in Australia, Canada, France, India, South
Africa, the United Kingdom, and the United States. His articles can be accessed through his website at http://dousimp.mnsi.net.
Author Contact Info:
Website - http://dousimp.mnsi.net.
Twitter - https://twitter.com/#!/1DougSimpson
https://www.facebook.com/doug.simpson.902
jesuscayce@yahoo.com
Dacque LaRose exited from the 7th Street Apartment Complex, on the chilly Monday morning in January,
and walked north on 7th Street. He preferred to take morning walks, as often as he could, unless there was a
specific reason to alter this routine, such as accommodating the schedule of a walking companion. On the days
that he walked alone, and had no urgent errands to attend to, in order to spice-up his morning journeys he
developed a routine where he alternated his starting direction between north and south. Walking east and west
were not options, at least when he left his apartment complex. Sunday morning had been a south day, making
Monday a north day.
Part two of Dacque’s walking regimen incorporated his desire to walk continuously, as in without
stopping, on his outward journey. To achieve this in the small, southern city of Anywhere, he allowed the street
lights and stop signs to direct his destinations. If he faced a red light, he went left or right. A stop sign gave him
the third option of continuing ahead, if traffic permitted. There were days when he stubbornly circled the same
block a time or two, before he was able to eventually escape through a green light, but he achieved his goal of
not stopping.
On this chilly Monday morning Dacque encountered his first red light at Olive Avenue, so he crossed
7th on the green and continued west along Olive until he was faced with a another red light at 10th Street. He
chose to cross Olive on the green light and go north again, but before he was half way across the light turned
yellow. Dacque hot-footed it to the curb, and then crossed 10th Street on the green light. He loved it when the
traffic signals led him into this section of the city. By choice, Dacque turned north and walked along the west
side of 10th street, catching a green light at Lime Avenue. One of the most beautiful spots in the city of
Anywhere, in his opinion anyway, was MacDunnah Park, located at the corner of 10th Street and Lime Avenue.
Dacque entered the park at the south-east corner and took the East Path north to the Central Path, where he
caught the Central Circle Path.
The Central Circle Path, as its name implied, circled the center of the Park where many park benches
and the most-beautiful flower gardens were located, at least in the seasons when they were in bloom. Dacque
stopped, not because he was tired, but because he came upon what he and Dani Christian, a good friend and
sometimes walking partner, referred to as ‘our bench,’ as it was on this bench that they had first met almost a
year earlier when he was directed by the little voice he sometimes heard in his ear from the other side, or one of
God’s messengers as he liked to believe. Now, whenever Dacque or Dani, together or alone, passed by ‘our
bench,’ they always stopped and sat for a few minutes in silent meditation. There is a story that goes with this
routine, obviously, but it will keep for another day.
After a five to ten minute period of silent meditation on ‘our bench,’ Dacque opened his eyes and his
heart skipped more than a beat when he saw Rolland Jones sitting on the other end of the bench. What made
this event so startling was the fact that Rolland Jones had died two months previously as the result of a swift
blow to the head from an old tire iron wielded by a yet unidentified servant of the Devil. Dacque caught his
breath and regained his composure, in rather short order. This was not the first time that he had encountered a
departed spirit, which made the initial shock easier to neutralize. “Hello, Rolland,” Dacque said, “I am truly
pleased to see you again.”
“Hello, Dacque,” Rolland’s spirit responded. “It looks like you won the ‘survival of the soul’ debate we
were involved in a few months ago.”
Dacque could not refrain from laughing no matter how hard he tried. “I am sorry about that, but it was
impossible to stifle it. I am sure you know that I truly wish I could have won the debate in some way other than
this way, believe me.”
“Don’t feel too bad,” Rolland’s spirit replied. “I know, now, that it was simply my time to go. Karma
can be a bugger, sometimes. Please tell Daphne that you saw me, and that I want her to get on with her life as
best she can. Our time together is over, at least in her current lifetime, but I suspect that our souls will decide to
incarnate together again in the future as we apparently have some unresolved issues to deal with. She was the
determined believer in reincarnation, as you know perfectly well, so I suspect that she will be delighted to hear
that I am still around, so to speak.”
“I will do that,” Dacque assured him.
“I dropped in to visit you today, to ask for your assistance in finding my murderer. The police are
getting nowhere with the case, at least at this point in time. It’s not really their fault. The culprit who clobbered
me with the tire iron did not leave them a lot of useful clues. The police may be barking up all of the wrong
trees. That’s where you come in.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Time will answer that for us. For starters though, will you see if you can come up with a connection or
contact to the police investigation? We both understand that you cannot just walk into the cop-shop and tell
them that the departed spirit of the victim told you who the probable murderer was, so we will need to work on
this one step at a time.”
“Your logic is good. I’m not acquainted with any of the local police officers, but I do know a couple of
people who might have some connections. Let me work on it and see if I can locate your contact for you,”
Dacque replied. “I suspect that you realize that many people are unable to see spirits. For some reason, God has
seen fit to bless me with the ability to see and communicate with spirits, but I would guess that I am part of a
rather small minority there. Do you have any knowledge, now that you are in spirit form again, whether our
police contact will be able to see and communicate with you, or will you expect me to be your go-between with
this contact person throughout the investigative process?”
“As you obviously know, Dacque, I am rather new to the spirit world on this go-around, but I do have
the priceless benefit of my soul memory from all of my past experiences in your world as well as here in the
spirit world. Apparently the level of soul development of each human’s soul determines their abilities to
communicate with us on this side. I am probably not telling you anything that you are not already aware of as I
knew from our conversations, while in body, that your soul was developed sufficiently to be able to see and talk
to us. So, to answer your question, the soul development of our contact will be the primary determinant as to
whether this individual will be able to communicate with me directly, or whether we will require you to be our
translator or go-between.”
“I understand completely,” Dacque assured Rolland’s spirit. “Is there anything else that I should be
aware of at this time?”
“I don’t think so, but I am still slowly getting used to existing in spirit form again, and I am not certain if
I have reacquired my entire spiritual abilities earned through previous experiences. I know my soul memory
seems to be complete, but my soul reasoning may be a little out of practice. I’ll keep in touch,” the spirit of
Rolland Jones, replied, and then disappeared.
Her mood vastly improved, Aimee began her journey back to
the foyer. But as she passed the varsity showers, her paranoia returned once
again. She had been in this room hundreds of times over her high school career
and never quite felt as she did this instant. Aimee’s arm hairs stood straight
up, just as they would have had the temperature drastically dropped. Chills
covered her cheeks and arms. The feeling of disturbed butterflies swarmed
inside Aimee’s stomach, and the urgency to leave the pitch-black locker room
prompted her to take longer strides, until a sharp pain rushed through Aimee’s right
pinky toe.
“Damn it!” Aimee crumpled over in pain. It was too dark to see what she had stubbed her toe on or if it was bleeding, but the pain was substantial. She squeezed her toe between her fingers, forcing the pain to subside. As she rocked back and forth holding her tiny toe, she remained in a ball with her long, curled locks dangling over both sides of her face. Suddenly, a cool breeze tickled the nape of Aimee’s exposed neck.
A large shadow hovered over Aimee in the darkness. He reached down, but was interrupted. His once extended hand now covered his mouth, trapping any sounds that might escape as he slowly tiptoed backwards into the toilet area.
“Damn it!” Aimee crumpled over in pain. It was too dark to see what she had stubbed her toe on or if it was bleeding, but the pain was substantial. She squeezed her toe between her fingers, forcing the pain to subside. As she rocked back and forth holding her tiny toe, she remained in a ball with her long, curled locks dangling over both sides of her face. Suddenly, a cool breeze tickled the nape of Aimee’s exposed neck.
A large shadow hovered over Aimee in the darkness. He reached down, but was interrupted. His once extended hand now covered his mouth, trapping any sounds that might escape as he slowly tiptoed backwards into the toilet area.
Contact Tiffany and buy your copy of Football Sweetheart here!
Heart like An Ocean
In a society where
she doesn't belong, Senona Montez, a strong-willed and free-spirited woman
refuses to follow the path expected of a Don's only child.
On the eve of her
marriage to a stranger, she saddles her horse and flees everything she knows,
only to discover the petty concerns of society did not prepare her for the
harsh life on the open sea. She finds an unlikely protector in a reckless
privateer, Brant Foxton.
Straddling the
worlds of independence and privilege in 1600's Europe, this captivating man
challenges her in ways she never thought possible, shows her what living to the
fullest really means, and allows her to follow her heart wherever it leads.
About Christine
Christine has been
writing stories since she could put pen to paper and form words. Now, many
years later, her debut novel is scheduled to be released and her second book is
in the works.
Christine has spent
the better half of her life owning and working with horses, and these four
legged companions often find their way into her stories. After all, no work of
women’s fiction would be complete without a horse or two (in Christine’s
opinion at least).
She currently makes
her home in the center of the world—no, really. Look at an atlas.
Heart Like An Ocean
Excerpt
Spain-1666
Senona looked around the
room full of swirling dresses of so many shapes and colors. It was like a dream
and left her overwhelmed and unable to tear her eyes away. Tonight she was a
princess in her new dress with her hair curled, cascading in loose waves down
her back. Tonight she was perfect.
Browsing the room, this
time in search of familiar faces, Senona spotted Caton Amador, and Isidro
Amato. The boys, although older, were her friends and a welcome relief to the
overwhelming nature of her surroundings. She made her way around the perimeter
of the room in their general direction.
Isidro was never very
serious about anything and enjoyed teasing Senona, which annoyed her to no end.
Caton was much more subdued and quiet, at least around her. Although they were
not as close as they once had been, the families remained good friends, and the
three of them spent many hours riding around the countryside or playing games
in the garden. When they were younger, Isidro and Caton had been her constant
companions, helping her sneak out of tea with their Madres or rescuing her from
lessons with her tutor. Now they never voluntarily saw each other, but due to
their families’ relationship, they found themselves together often
enough.
“Senona, my Chica! You are
a picture of beauty, as always,” boomed Isidro’s obnoxious and teasing voice.
Caton turned to look at the
young girl. “Leave her alone, Isidro.”
“Come on, Caton. She’s glad
to see us.”
Caton frowned but said
nothing, turning his attention back to the pretty girl standing next to him.
Isidro seemed to accept that as permission to continue, and he smirked
mockingly at Senona, beckoning her. The small flock of girls that surrounded
the two boys giggled, causing her to blush and become hesitant and
uncomfortable. She had never seen the boys in this environment, and she quickly
questioned her decision that she belonged with them.
“It’s okay, Isidro. I just
wanted to say hello.”
“Well then, run along.
There must be some of your friends around.”
Senona forced a smile and
turned to Caton. “Hello, Caton.”
He barely acknowledged her
with a brief glance and nod in her direction, and then returned to ignoring
her. Unsure of how to deal with Caton’s rejection, she walked away, her eyes
burning with angry tears that threatened to spill over. Why was he being so
rude? Not even so much as a hello, as if he were embarrassed to be associated
with her.
As she pushed her way
through the crowd, she heard one of the girls laugh. “Caton, I do believe you
hurt her feelings.”
Caton’s deep, unmistakable
chuckle cut through the din and his voice was all she heard. “She’s a silly,
strange girl. I would rather not encourage her.”
Senona expected this
behavior from Isidro, but from Caton? She had always thought he was honest and
simple, but his actions tonight had shown her otherwise. She had been a fool to
think that these older boys were her friends.
Escaping into the shadows,
she hid from the sneering glances and mocking laughter that seemed to follow
her wherever she went. She had thought that tonight would be different, but
nothing had changed. She was just a strange little girl.
The night was a blur, a
blur of swirling skirts and obnoxious voices. To nearly everyone she was
invisible. Even her Madre and Padre, who had never been overly affectionate
towards their daughter, seemed to have completely forgotten her existence. But
that wasn’t so different from normal. They weren’t very affectionate people
ever, even towards each other.
At the end of the night,
Senona lay in bed, her new dress hanging in her wardrobe, mocking her. She had
realised tonight how far she fell from society’s standards, her own parents’
standards. Any illusion she had of being a princess, of being perfect for one
night had been shattered. But that didn't really bother her. The truly odd
thing was that she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps she didn’t
have to be that way. Perhaps now she had the freedom to do as she wanted. It
wasn’t as if anyone cared about her anyway. She was just a strange little girl.
Join me in welcoming author Anna Kristell to my blog today!
UNLIKELY LOVERS
When Army Major Jessica Walsh meets local factory worker,
Cody Jones, she finds herself staring straight into the eyes of the man who’s
been haunting her dreams for the past few nights. Fresh from a breakup with her
cheating ex, Jessica sets out to seduce the sexy brown-eyed man in the hopes of
a brief rebound affair. Getting more than she bargained for, she falls in love
with him, but has kept a secret about who she really is.
On the night she plans to tell him the truth, Cody
plans to propose. But before either of those things can take place, they run
into Jessica’s ex, who cruelly spills the beans. Angry and heartbroken,
Cody ends the relationship, turning to a bottle for comfort. Jessica’s hurt,
she accepts his decision. While they find they can't stay away from
each other, they can't seem to work out their differences, either. Will the
unlikely lovers be able to overcome the obstacles in their lives and find their
happy ever after?
“And I’m Cody,” the sexy man with
the brown wavy hair said, flashing a smile that sent shivers up and down
Jessica’s spine. He extended his right hand.
She took it saying, “I’m Jessica and
this is Missy, nice to meet you both.” The simple touch of his hand was enough
to make her want to get closer to him, much closer. Her hand felt as though it
had been scorched as she pulled it away.
“Thanks for the beer. You two ready
to get beat by a couple of girls?” Missy looked at Andy, laughing.
“Bring it on,” he answered with a
wink.
They bowled two games, girls winning
one, and guys winning the other.
“How about a rematch to break the
tie and the losers take the other team out for pizza afterward?” Cody
challenged.
“You’re on. Right, Missy?” Jessica
looked at her friend.
“Right, let’s show ‘em what we can
do, girlfriend.”
To prove her point, Missy threw
three strikes in a row.
“I think we’re in trouble, man.”
Andy chuckled as he looked at Cody.
“We’ll see about that!” Cody threw
the next strike as the four of them burst into uncontrollable laughter.
The girls won by two pins, much to
their delight.
“We’ll let you off the hook and go
Dutch since you came so close,” Jessica said as she changed out of the ugly
shoes and back into her boots.
“Sounds like a deal,” Cody answered
with a smile that set her pulse racing again. And then she knew. His eyes. There was something about them.
They decided where to meet and as
Missy drove to the pizza parlor, Jessica turned to her and said, “Thanks for
talking me into coming out tonight. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”
“I haven’t either. But let’s not
tell them too much about ourselves. Okay?”
“I agree.” The girls knew from
experience some men were intimidated by a female officer.
“Aren’t they hunks, both of them?”
“Oh, yeah, especially Cody,” Jessica
said dreamily.
“I prefer the blonde look, myself.”
Missy giggled as she pulled into the parking lot.
“That’s good, since I have my eye on
Cody.” The mere thought of sharing a bed with the wavy haired man was almost
more than Jessica could bear.
When they got out of Missy’s car,
the two men were already there waiting for them in the parking lot.
“After you.” Cody opened the door of
the restaurant for Jessica, following behind her.
After they’d all decided on a
supreme deluxe pizza complete with anchovies and ordered a pitcher of beer and
soft drinks for the two drivers, they began to talk.
“Why haven’t we seen you two ladies
around before?” Cody inquired as he looked at Jessica with that same sexy smile
that had first drawn her to him.
“We’ve not been bowling for a
while.” She returned the smile shyly.
“We keep pretty busy with work,”
Missy added, looking at Andy.
“I hear that. We’ve been putting in
all kinds of overtime at the plant,” Andy replied.
“So you both work at Goodyear?”
Jessica asked.
“Yeah, like most folks around here
that aren’t lucky enough to get out of town.”
“What do you girls do?” Cody asked.
“Uh, we both work on post,” Missy
answered vaguely as she took a sip of the Coke that had just arrived.
“Ah, another place a lot of folks
around here work,” Andy observed.
Jessica was incredibly intrigued by Cody.
He had the most gorgeous brown eyes she had ever seen, like huge drops of
chocolate candy...almost identical to
the man in her dream. She began to imagine his hard working hands
roaming her body, rocking her world, taking her to the ends of the earth and
back…Jessica, get a grip, she
told herself as she found herself staring into those beautiful eyes again.
The other three continued with light
banter as they enjoyed the pizza while Jessica tried to concentrate on what
they were all saying. It wasn’t easy with the brown eyed man sitting next to
her. And long before she was ready, the evening was coming to an end.
Andy and Missy had exchanged cell
phone numbers already as Cody asked Jessica for hers. She gave it to him and
watched as he put it in his phone. She did the same with his.
“I’ll call you soon. Count on it,
Jessie,” Cody said as he waved goodbye.
“That’d be great. I’ll talk to you
soon.” She flashed him her sexiest smile.
Once they were on the road, Missy
said, “Wow, Jess, that Andy is one sexy hunk of man. I’d love to see him
again.”
“And I could get real cozy with
Cody, if you know what I mean,” Jessica remarked thoughtfully. What would be
the harm in a brief fling with a sexy local factory worker?
Missy glanced at her friend. “Jess,
that doesn’t exactly sound like something you’d do. Are you really considering
it?”
“Maybe, we’ll just have to see now,
won’t we? All I can say is Cody Jones is one hell of a sexy man.”
After Missy had dropped her off at
home, she prepared for bed with a smile as she remembered what he’d said. I
wonder if he really will call. She
was just settling in between the cool sheets when her cell rang. She answered
sleepily, “Hello.”
“Hey, Jessie, it’s Cody, calling to
say goodnight.”
“Hi. When you said you’d call soon,
you weren’t kidding.” She giggled and continued, “I’m glad to hear from you so
soon.”
He chuckled. “I had a great time
tonight, just had to call and tell you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again
soon.”
“I had fun, too. We’ll definitely
get together soon. Call me.”
“You can count on that, baby. Sweet
dreams.”
“Goodnight.”
She soon fell asleep, dreaming that
a handsome, wavy haired man with huge, velvety chocolate brown eyes was sharing
her bed. He kissed her lips then moved down her body, nuzzled her neck,
stopping to whisper love words in her ear as he’d done in her dream the night
before. She awoke, alone again, more determined than ever to make this
particular dream become a reality, and the sooner the better.
Connect with Anna Kristnell here!
My website: http://www.
And buy her book, Unlikely Lovers, here!
*******************************************
Join me in welcoming best selling author Carmen DeSousa to my bloglet today!
The Depot (When Life and Death Cross Tracks)
The Depot is a
twelve-thousand-word mini mystery with a paranormal edge by bestselling
romantic-suspense author Carmen DeSousa. If you are looking for her full-length
novels, please check out She Belongs to Me, Land of the Noonday Sun, Entangled
Dreams, and When Noonday Ends.
They say The Depot is haunted. But in all the years homicide
detective Mark Waters has visited the ancient train station turned restaurant,
he’s never seen proof. Until now.
As he investigates a supposed suicide by train, he learns
secrets of a murder that took place eighty years ago may directly affect his
case.
About Carmen
Carmen characterizes her stories as modern-day fairytales,
as they overflow with romance, mystery, suspense, and of course, tragedy. After
all, what would a fairytale be without a tragic event setting the stage? All of
her novels are sensual, but not erotic, gripping but not graphic and will make
you cry, gasp, laugh, love, and hope.
Her first two novels, She Belongs to Me and Land of the Noonday
Sun, have reached bestseller status right alongside Nicholas Sparks, J.D. Robb,
and other great authors. Her third novel, Entangled Dreams, just published
September 2012.
All of her novels are standalones; however, she does link
each of her stories with a little surprise. If you read out of order, you'll
never notice. But if you read in order, it's fun.
How to contact ...
Website: http://www.carmendesousa.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/Author_Carmen
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/ygJDMP
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5407915.Carmen_DeSousa
******************************************
Join me in welcoming Denise Moncrief to my little strand in the web today!
Crisis of Identity
Tess Copeland is an operator. Her motto? Necessity is the
mother of a good a con. When Hurricane Irving slams into the Texas Gulf coast,
Tess seizes the opportunity to escape her past by hijacking a dead woman’s
life, but Shelby Coleman’s was the wrong identity to steal. And the cop that
trails her? He’s a U.S. Marshall with the Fugitive Task Force for the northern
district of Illinois. Tess left Chicago because the criminal justice system
gave her no choice. Now she’s on the run from ghosts of misdeeds past—both hers
and Shelby’s.
Enter Trevor Smith, a pseudo-cowboy from Houston, Texas,
with good looks, a quick tongue, and testosterone poisoning. Will Tess succumb
to his questionable charms and become his damsel in distress? She doesn’t have
to faint at his feet—she’s capable of handling just about anything. But will
she choose to let Trevor be the man? When Tess kidnaps her niece, her life
changes. She must make some hard decisions. Does she trust the lawman that
promises her redemption, or does she trust the cowboy that promises her nothing
but himself?
About Denise:
Denise
wrote her first story when she was in high school—seventeen hand-written pages
on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she
read. She earned a degree in accounting, giving her some nice skills to earn a
little money, but her passion has always been writing. She has written numerous
short stories and more than a few full-length novels. Her favorite pastimes
when she’s not writing are spending time with her family, traveling, reading,
and scrapbooking. She lives in Louisiana with her husband, two children, and
one very chubby dog.
EXCERPT from Crisis of Identity
The
room had already filled five times with sea-soaked bodies. The dead lay
head-to-foot, column-by-column, row-by-row, ten by twenty. Victim 973 had
scrawled her Social Security number down her left arm just as she’d been
instructed. I noted the number on my log and moved on, trying hard not to think
about the person, concentrating only on the morbid job some pushy cop forced on
me.
Across
the high school gymnasium, a man worked the other end of the column. As his
stealthy glances trailed me around the gym, the acid in my overwrought stomach
churned every time our eyes met.
“Want
to take a break?” His sudden question reverberated throughout the cavernous
space.
I
curled one tendril of hair around my left ear. “Sure.”
I
followed him into the locker room, grabbing a foam cup and filling it with
tepid coffee. The man did the same from another urn. The burnt brew left traces
of bitterness in my mouth. I rubbed my tongue over my teeth in a vain attempt
to remove the acrid leftovers.
My
mind turned off for a few precious moments as I ignored the makeshift morgue on
the other side of the wall. The man’s strong, masculine bass invaded my mental
hideaway. “They’re starting to smell ripe.” He gulped down another ounce of
artificial stimulant, staring at me over the rim of his cup.
My
insides flipped. “It’s been four days.”
He
nodded. “Most of these don’t have numbers.”
“Makes
it harder to identify them.”
He
leaned against a locker. “This group must have thought they were invincible.”
“Doesn’t
everyone?” I tossed my cup into the overflowing trash. “Think they’re
invincible, I mean."
“Certain
death. How do you interpret that? I
think it means, ‘I stay. I die.’ Must not have sunk in until it was too late.”
His sarcastic attitude unsettled me, made me want to defend the dead.
“They’ve
been warned before and nothing happened.” When the locals ordered an evacuation
two years before, it proved to be a false alarm. The residents of the Texas
Gulf coast weren’t so easy to convince this time. It seemed no one learned a
lesson from Hurricane Katrina. “And…we’re not dead.” Our eyes locked.
Someone’s
presence warmed my back. The site supervisor stood over my shoulder and
repeated his prerecorded rant for the millionth time. “Mandatory is mandatory.
The dead ignored the warning to their own peril. If they wanted to stay put,
the least they could do is write their soc number on their arms...just like
they were told to do. How many times did the news people make that
announcement? Write your number on your arm if you plan to stay. How hard is
that?”
I
shifted away from him. I didn’t dare write my number on my arm.
“Suppose
the two of you take a few. You look wasted, and these guys…” He waved his hand
toward the gym. “Aren’t going anywhere.”
How to contact Denise Moncrief:
Twitter: @dmoncrief0131
Blogger: www.denisemoncrief.blogspot.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/DeniseMoncriefAuthor
*****************************************
Join me in welcoming author Keri Neal to my blog today!
Welcome Keri!! Congratulations on your new release!! Tell us a little about TORN.
After Agent Shane Baxter’s last mission failed both
professionally and personally, he fled the States and changed his name. When
Dixie Peterson re-enters his life, he has a second chance to make things right.
Dixie is determined to find out the truth about Shane’s departure from her life
two years ago, but someone else from her past is seeking revenge. Shane and
Dixie are forced to confront the past, while their future is still unclear.
Sounds great! Can we have a teaser?
"Shane."
"Hmmm."
"Shane."
"Hmmm? What?"
Sheets rustled. "You have to go."
Shane Baxter opened one eye and stared into the dark bedroom. "Time is it?"
Dixie Peterson, who was spooned against his groin, lifted her head off the bed just enough to check the alarm clock on the nightstand. "’S three," she mumbled and burrowed herself back into her pillow.
He took a moment to appreciate her body with the arm that had been draped lazily over her hip. Slowly massaging his way up her stomach and into the warm crevice between her breasts, she hummed, which Shane took as an invitation. His body hardened in response, but when he began nibbling the back of her neck, a warning dispelled the mood. "Shane."
He stopped what he was doing and pulled her back against him. He recognized her admonition for what it was: a reality check. Their attraction to each other had been evident from the very beginning, but their current situation was…difficult. He had never before spent the night in her bed. This morning was a reckless treat he wasn’t about to let go to waste.
As if reading his mind, Dixie slid away from him and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Shane propped his head up and admired her soft feminine lines as she stretched. Her short blonde bob accentuated her long graceful neck. The soft glow of the alarm clock illuminated her firm, flawless skin.
She slanted him a look over her shoulder. "You’d better stop looking at me like that or neither one of us is getting out of this bed." Her sleepy voice was a sensual whisper that aroused him even more.
Quick as a snake, Shane snagged her around the waist, threw her on her back, and rolled on top of her. She let out a yelp.
"Shhh." His warning sent them both into a fit of giggles.
After they sobered, he pressed a kiss to her warm neck. "Do you want a ride to school?"
Dixie closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were distant. As if a dark cloud had passed over their happy moment. "I don’t think that would be a good idea."
Her fingers danced along the long scar that split his bottom lip and ran down his chin. He longed to tell her how he came about the unusual mark, but that would invite questions about his past. A past he was not ready, or willing, to involve her in.
He brushed a stray hair off of Dixie’s forehead and gazed into her lavender eyes. They’d been together six months, and already he was falling for her in ways he’d never expected. By silent mutual understanding, their relationship remained light and fun. They both knew it couldn’t go anywhere.
"I have to go," he whispered, almost inaudible.
She nodded, a faint smile played on her lips. He leaned forward to kiss her goodbye. The quick peck became urgent when she reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his length. He bit back a groan as she raised her hips to guide him into her.
A faint sound coming from the hallway just outside Dixie’s bedroom door made them both freeze.
"Lily!" Dixie mouthed.
Shane rolled off the bed, silently locating most of his clothes and shoes. Not bothering with his shirt, he yanked on his jeans and allowed himself one last look at Dixie before he slipped out of the window. Her hair still mussed as she pressed her ear to the bedroom door. He caught her eye before climbing down the oak tree and into the dawn.
Such a beautiful cover!! How can readers contact you?
Kerineal.com/author
twitter.com/@authorkerineal
facebook.com/authorkerineal
pinterest.com/kerineal
twitter.com/@authorkerineal
facebook.com/authorkerineal
pinterest.com/kerineal
Great. One more question. What is this I hear about a giveaway?
I am giving away an eBook copy of Torn, and a
handmade crochet eReader cover (your choice of color). I will draw a name a
day, everyday between February 2nd and February 6th (that’s five winners!) Here’s what you do to
enter:
1. Go to my blog at kerineal.com/author
and leave a comment on any post.
OR
2. Follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/@authorkerineal
OR
3. Like me on Facebook: facebook.com/authorkerineal
Only one entry per person, even if you do all
three. Please note that these eReader covers are handmade, so give me AT LEAST
three weeks to mail them to you. I’ll make them in any color you want…as long
as it exists J
Now, go pick up your copy of Keri's new release, TORN, ya hear? Thanks y'all!
Join me in welcoming romance author Vonnie Davis to my blog today!
Sara, thank you for having me guest on your
blog. I’m thrilled for the chance to share my love of writing. People often ask
writers where we get our ideas for plot lines. I wish there was an easy answer.
For me it involves keeping myself open to all the “what if” possibilities of
life. A short newspaper article, a news snippet, an overheard conversation in a
restaurant, a dream can all spark that “what if” internal dialogue in my
writer’s mind.
For example, I once read a blog post
entitled “Love Darts and Escargot.” A visual popped into my mind of a guy
getting ready to make a shot at a pool table in a bar when he’s struck in the
neck by an errant dart. When he whirls around to see who had the audacity to throw a dart at him he
collides with a pair of widened blue eyes. I opened a document and had the
first chapter—rough, of course—written in a few minutes. Back Where You Belong is waiting for its release date.
But that instant starting point doesn’t
always come so easily. I’d been tooling around Still Moments Publishing’s
website and checking out their open anthologies. Something about the Match
Maker Series appealed to me, and I decided to write a short story for it. Too
bad I couldn’t come up with a beginning. I wrote and deleted. Thought and shook
my head. Nothing would come.
Then one day, I got a text from my grandson
telling me he’d gotten all A’s on his report card, and there it was: That
“what-if” possibility. What if a guy broke up with a girl in a text? Happens
more often than we think. Right? I opened up a document and started writing the
opening scene for A Taste of Chocolate…
Her lungs stopped working. This couldn’t be
happening. Hope Morningstar read the words on her cell’s screen once more. Black
spots danced across her vision field, and she finally breathed again. “He broke
up with me!” Her gaze jumped from the screen to her sister’s questioning face,
those finely waxed eyebrows of Gracie’s scrunched and her eyes narrowed.
“Barclay broke up with me…in a text!”
Gracie snatched the cell from Hope. “Let me
see.”
Hope rested her elbows on the table and
dropped her face into her hands. This
can’t be happening—not again.
Gracie, her older sister, ever the protective
one, muttered several choice words about Barclay’s paternity and physical
attributes. Then she read the text out loud, as if it wasn’t already seared
into Hope’s psyche. “Dumpin u. Been fun, but m bored. Good luck finding someone
who can handle ur bossiness. B.”
Hope didn’t bother to hide the tears slipping
down her cheeks, not here on her sister’s deck, surrounded by swaying palms and
ferns. Her sister’s backyard had always been an oasis of peace with its gurgle
of a waterfall into the koi pond. “What’s wrong with me?” Hope swiped at tears
with the back of her hand. “This makes the second sudden breakup. First Jason
and now Barclay.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Gracie
gathered a fussy Olivia from her infant seat and settled her to her breast. “If
you’re doing anything wrong, it’s the kind of men you pick.”
Hope tugged a package of tissues from her
shoulder bag and pulled one out. “Yeah, I am a jerk-magnet. I mean how many
women get a ‘Dear John’ letter from a serviceman while he’s deployed? Usually
it’s the other way around, but not for me. Then I meet Barclay and things go
well for six months. And now this.” She glanced at her phone and chewed on the
corner of her lower lip. “Should I text him back or call him?”
“And what? Beg him to reconsider? Certainly
not!” Gracie ran a hand over her daughter’s blonde fluff. “Look, you have to
stop being so desperate. You run after these guys, and then they break your
heart. Let one chase you for a change. Let him prove to you he’s worthy.”
Hope
Morningstar has the worst luck with men. One boyfriend wrote her a “Dear John” letter while serving
overseas. Her latest romantic interest broke up with her in a text. When a
traffic detour puts her in an unfamiliar neighborhood, she stops at Freya’s
Coffee Shop where she gets more than directions. She gets another chance at
finding love.
Declan
Fleming, scarred by a cheating ex-wife, has given up searching for love. He’s
taken the route of a few other men and engaged the services of Freya, the
matchmaker. Still, he’s been waiting for a year and he’s just about given up
hope. Then Freya sends him Hope.
When
feelings of insecurity and trust issues come into play, can finding love stand
a chance? Can the magical influence of this matchmaker create a happy ending?
After all, finding that one special love often involves a bit of special magic,
does it not?
BUY LINKS:
CONNECT WITH VONNIE!
**********************************
For our first author, I welcome fellow 5 Prince author DOUG SIMPSON!!
Soul Mind
By
Doug Simpson
By
Doug Simpson
Genre: Fiction/General/Christian/Fantasy/Romance/Paranormal/Ghost/Visionary & Metaphysical
Release Date: January 10, 2013
Digital ISBN ISBN 13:978-1-939217-26-4 10:1939217261
Print ISBN ISBN 13: 978-1-9-939217-27-1 10:193921727x
Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.htm
Soul Mind
Dacque LaRose, a genuine good-guy and Good Samaritan, was accustomed to being visited by and
communicating with disembodied spirits as he carried out his occasional assignments received from the
Heavenly Powers. His latest spirit visit went miles beyond anything he would have ever imagined. The spirit of
a former acquaintance and recent murder victim joined Dacque one morning on his favorite park bench and
asked him to assist in solving his murder as the local authorities were getting nowhere, through no fault of their
own but due to a lack of any substantial evidence in the case.
Dacque had absolutely no idea how he could be of assistance in solving a murder, but he was accustomed
to receiving his Heavenly assignments one installment at a time so he knew the steps he would be expected to
follow would appear in due course.
Dacque’s new assignment proved exciting and educational as the spirit of the murdered acquaintance gladly
explained to Dacque and his detective friend the inner workings of the Soul Mind or subconscious mind.
Doug Simpson is a retired high school teacher who has turned his talents to writing. His first novel, a spiritual
mystery titled Soul Awakening, was published in the United States in October of 2011, by Book Locker. His
magazine and website articles have been published in 2010 to 2012 in Australia, Canada, France, India, South
Africa, the United Kingdom, and the United States. His articles can be accessed through his website at http://dousimp.mnsi.net.
Author Contact Info:
Website - http://dousimp.mnsi.net.
Twitter - https://twitter.com/#!/1DougSimpson
https://www.facebook.com/doug.simpson.902
jesuscayce@yahoo.com
Excerpt from Soul Mind
Dacque LaRose exited from the 7th Street Apartment Complex, on the chilly Monday morning in January,
and walked north on 7th Street. He preferred to take morning walks, as often as he could, unless there was a
specific reason to alter this routine, such as accommodating the schedule of a walking companion. On the days
that he walked alone, and had no urgent errands to attend to, in order to spice-up his morning journeys he
developed a routine where he alternated his starting direction between north and south. Walking east and west
were not options, at least when he left his apartment complex. Sunday morning had been a south day, making
Monday a north day.
Part two of Dacque’s walking regimen incorporated his desire to walk continuously, as in without
stopping, on his outward journey. To achieve this in the small, southern city of Anywhere, he allowed the street
lights and stop signs to direct his destinations. If he faced a red light, he went left or right. A stop sign gave him
the third option of continuing ahead, if traffic permitted. There were days when he stubbornly circled the same
block a time or two, before he was able to eventually escape through a green light, but he achieved his goal of
not stopping.
On this chilly Monday morning Dacque encountered his first red light at Olive Avenue, so he crossed
7th on the green and continued west along Olive until he was faced with a another red light at 10th Street. He
chose to cross Olive on the green light and go north again, but before he was half way across the light turned
yellow. Dacque hot-footed it to the curb, and then crossed 10th Street on the green light. He loved it when the
traffic signals led him into this section of the city. By choice, Dacque turned north and walked along the west
side of 10th street, catching a green light at Lime Avenue. One of the most beautiful spots in the city of
Anywhere, in his opinion anyway, was MacDunnah Park, located at the corner of 10th Street and Lime Avenue.
Dacque entered the park at the south-east corner and took the East Path north to the Central Path, where he
caught the Central Circle Path.
The Central Circle Path, as its name implied, circled the center of the Park where many park benches
and the most-beautiful flower gardens were located, at least in the seasons when they were in bloom. Dacque
stopped, not because he was tired, but because he came upon what he and Dani Christian, a good friend and
sometimes walking partner, referred to as ‘our bench,’ as it was on this bench that they had first met almost a
year earlier when he was directed by the little voice he sometimes heard in his ear from the other side, or one of
God’s messengers as he liked to believe. Now, whenever Dacque or Dani, together or alone, passed by ‘our
bench,’ they always stopped and sat for a few minutes in silent meditation. There is a story that goes with this
routine, obviously, but it will keep for another day.
After a five to ten minute period of silent meditation on ‘our bench,’ Dacque opened his eyes and his
heart skipped more than a beat when he saw Rolland Jones sitting on the other end of the bench. What made
this event so startling was the fact that Rolland Jones had died two months previously as the result of a swift
blow to the head from an old tire iron wielded by a yet unidentified servant of the Devil. Dacque caught his
breath and regained his composure, in rather short order. This was not the first time that he had encountered a
departed spirit, which made the initial shock easier to neutralize. “Hello, Rolland,” Dacque said, “I am truly
pleased to see you again.”
“Hello, Dacque,” Rolland’s spirit responded. “It looks like you won the ‘survival of the soul’ debate we
were involved in a few months ago.”
impossible to stifle it. I am sure you know that I truly wish I could have won the debate in some way other than
this way, believe me.”
“Don’t feel too bad,” Rolland’s spirit replied. “I know, now, that it was simply my time to go. Karma
can be a bugger, sometimes. Please tell Daphne that you saw me, and that I want her to get on with her life as
best she can. Our time together is over, at least in her current lifetime, but I suspect that our souls will decide to
incarnate together again in the future as we apparently have some unresolved issues to deal with. She was the
determined believer in reincarnation, as you know perfectly well, so I suspect that she will be delighted to hear
that I am still around, so to speak.”
“I will do that,” Dacque assured him.
“I dropped in to visit you today, to ask for your assistance in finding my murderer. The police are
getting nowhere with the case, at least at this point in time. It’s not really their fault. The culprit who clobbered
me with the tire iron did not leave them a lot of useful clues. The police may be barking up all of the wrong
trees. That’s where you come in.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Time will answer that for us. For starters though, will you see if you can come up with a connection or
contact to the police investigation? We both understand that you cannot just walk into the cop-shop and tell
them that the departed spirit of the victim told you who the probable murderer was, so we will need to work on
this one step at a time.”
“Your logic is good. I’m not acquainted with any of the local police officers, but I do know a couple of
people who might have some connections. Let me work on it and see if I can locate your contact for you,”
Dacque replied. “I suspect that you realize that many people are unable to see spirits. For some reason, God has
seen fit to bless me with the ability to see and communicate with spirits, but I would guess that I am part of a
rather small minority there. Do you have any knowledge, now that you are in spirit form again, whether our
police contact will be able to see and communicate with you, or will you expect me to be your go-between with
this contact person throughout the investigative process?”
“As you obviously know, Dacque, I am rather new to the spirit world on this go-around, but I do have
the priceless benefit of my soul memory from all of my past experiences in your world as well as here in the
spirit world. Apparently the level of soul development of each human’s soul determines their abilities to
communicate with us on this side. I am probably not telling you anything that you are not already aware of as I
knew from our conversations, while in body, that your soul was developed sufficiently to be able to see and talk
to us. So, to answer your question, the soul development of our contact will be the primary determinant as to
whether this individual will be able to communicate with me directly, or whether we will require you to be our
translator or go-between.”
“I understand completely,” Dacque assured Rolland’s spirit. “Is there anything else that I should be
aware of at this time?”
“I don’t think so, but I am still slowly getting used to existing in spirit form again, and I am not certain if
I have reacquired my entire spiritual abilities earned through previous experiences. I know my soul memory
seems to be complete, but my soul reasoning may be a little out of practice. I’ll keep in touch,” the spirit of
Rolland Jones, replied, and then disappeared.
Great post...=)
ReplyDeleteThank you Sara for featuring me and Soul Mind, Book III of the Dacque Chronicles. I am honored to be your first featured author.
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