tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77156744933727617382024-02-07T15:48:07.205-05:00Cloey's Book Reviews And Other StuffAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.comBlogger281125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-53788983498547299342016-12-06T05:30:00.000-05:002016-12-06T05:30:01.820-05:00Liz Keel<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Enlightenment by Liz Keel</i></span></div>
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<br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">10 Things I Wish I Knew About Being an Author I Didn’t Know Before </span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">by Liz Keel</span></b><div>
<br /><br />1. <b>Believe in yourself!</b> One of the main challenges is to have confidence in yourself and persevere. It can be quite daunting putting something you have created – your heart and soul – out there for others to view and potentially criticize. <br /><br />2. <b>Utilize all the help you can get!</b> Use all the help and experience you are offered. Take my illustrator for example - Joemel Requeza who is brilliant! With Enlightenment, he not only took my thoughts and ramblings and made Thea come to life, but designed an intriguing cover that makes the reader want to find out more. <br /><br />3.<b> My work is done!</b> It’s just about writing a story isn’t it?! Wrong! Just because you have written the story it doesn’t mean your role is now finished. Far from it, as you’ll now enter the world of marketing, social media and keeping up with the demands from your publishing house!<br /><br />4. <b>Develop a hard shell. </b>You’ve finally done it! After hours, weeks and maybe even years of hard work your book is finally out there ready for people to purchase and it happens…you get a negative review. It can feel soul destroying at first but it’s important to remember not everyone will like what you have to say and it happens to authors all around the world. When it does though, try your hardest not to take it personally or respond negatively to the reviewer and instead focus on all the positives your readers have to say.<br /><br />4. <b>Have no regrets.</b> Hindsight is a wonderful thing but even so I’m a firm believer you learn from your mistakes and if anything become stronger as an author. <br /><br />6. <b>The Financial Implications!</b> Unfortunately it can be a long process getting to the stage when you can live purely off the royalties from the books you have written. Publishing one book won’t be enough to live off and you will need to keep your writing momentum going especially if you have built up a fan base – they will be hungry for more! <br /><br />7. <b>The world of social media!</b> There are so many ways to reach out to your fan base and it is such a rewarding thing to do, not only because they will help get the word out about any of your new releases but they will also become your invaluable support network. <br /><br />8. <b>The importance of marketing! </b>Whether you decide to go through a publishing house or not, knowing how to market your book can feel overwhelming especially when learning to do this the first time round. Do take the time to research what’s the best path for you.<br /><br />9. <b>Network!</b> Connect with other authors out there who are in the same position as you on sites such as Goodreads; they can become your rock when needed as well as providing advice and a sounding block for all those questions you may have. <br /><br />10. <b>Don’t Give Up!</b> Lastly and I think most importantly you have to have faith in yourself and know that you can do this. It won’t be easy and you’ll feel like pulling your hair out half the time, but when you finally do it…see your book out there for people to buy, it’s the most amazing feeling ever and makes all the heart-ache worthwhile.<br />
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<b>Enlightenment</b><br />
<b>The Driel Trilogy</b><br />
<b>Liz Keel</b><br />
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Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing<br />
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Release Date: 21st April 2016<br />
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ISBN: 9780996974875<br />
ISBN: 9780994664198<br />
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<b>Book Description:</b><br />
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After losing everything, all seventeen-year-old Thea wanted was to be a normal teenager. Instead, she was attacked by a mysterious creature she thought only existed in fairy tales.<br />
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Now thrown into the unknown realm of Faey, Thea is forced to determine the difference between reality and fantasy, in a world ruled by a dark elite and a society wracked by intolerance and prejudice. With the support of her new friends and a mysterious dark haired, blue-eyed guardian watching her every move, Thea will discover that when it comes to Faey, nothing is what it seems.<br />
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Will her courage and desire to save this new world from darkness be enough? Or will Thea be the next victim to fall to the dark whispers of fate...<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/enlightenment-liz-keel/1123678194?ean=2940153177120"><span lang="EN" style="color: #0563c1; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Barnes and Noble</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1105572270"><span lang="EN" style="color: #0563c1; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">iBooks</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/enlightenment-23"><span lang="EN" style="color: #0563c1; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Kobo Books</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Enlightenment-Driel-Trilogy-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01EI63LMK?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0"><span lang="EN" style="color: #0563c1; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Amazon</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Enlightenment-Driel-Trilogy-Liz-Keel/dp/0996974873?ie=UTF8&qid=&ref_=tmm_pap_swatch_0&sr="><span lang="EN" style="color: #0563c1; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Amazon Paperback</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hmo9G2ePhIA/WDifioJkX6I/AAAAAAAAFdY/q4U-vsI3vmsTJcjmhTu9o5fxBaioitJTACLcB/s1600/Liz%2BKeel%2BPicture.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hmo9G2ePhIA/WDifioJkX6I/AAAAAAAAFdY/q4U-vsI3vmsTJcjmhTu9o5fxBaioitJTACLcB/s200/Liz%2BKeel%2BPicture.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>About the Author:</b></div>
<br />
I live in Surrey, England, a short walk from the beautiful Windsor Park, with my husband Richard and our two gorgeous children Noah and Olivia. For me, writing is nothing short of an addiction and I often find myself sneaking out to my writing shed for just a few minutes, which can often turn into hours of pure, unadulterated bliss catching up with my characters and continuing their story.<br />
<br />
In-between writing, I teach in a primary school where there’s never a dull moment! I will also often be found Kindle in hand, reading a wide variety of genres but with YA fantasy and paranormal romance at the forefront of my reading list. Although I’m currently writing the second book in the Driel trilogy, other characters involving all things fantasy, paranormal and YA romance are jockeying for position, wanting me to write their story next, so watch this space! It is such a privilege to share my stories with you the reader. Thank you enough for taking the time to find out more about me.<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">To find out more about Liz, visit her website: <a href="http://www.lizkeelauthor.com/">www.lizkeelauthor.com</a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/LizKeelAuthor">https://twitter.com/LizKeelAuthor</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-44743125197173205272016-11-22T17:30:00.000-05:002016-11-22T17:30:02.696-05:00Sharon Buchbinder<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Haunting of Hotel Labelle by Sharon Buchbinder</i></div>
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<b>The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle</b><br />
<b>Sharon Buchbinder</b><br />
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Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Fantasy<br />
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Publisher: The Wild Rose Press<br />
Date of Publication: November 16, 2016<br />
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Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1153-1<br />
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1154-8<br />
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Number of pages: 198<br />
Word Count: 48,000<br />
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Cover Artist: Rae Monet<br />
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<b>Book Description:</b><br />
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The past meets the present when a curse turn-of-the-century man meets a feisty modern day woman.<br />
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When hotel inspector, Tallulah Thompson, is called in along with her pug, Franny, to investigate renovation delays, she meets an extremely annoyed and dapper turn-of-the-century innkeeper. The only problem is he’s in limbo, neither dead nor alive, and Tallulah and the pug are the first to see him in a hundred years.<br />
<br />
Cursed by a medicine woman, “Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Lucius” Stewart is stuck between worlds until he finds his true love and gives her his heart. When he first sees Tallulah, he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Yet, her stunning beauty, and feisty attitude pull him in.<br />
<br />
With the fate of Hotel LaBelle on the line, Tallulah with the help of a powerful medicine woman turns Lucius back into a flesh and blood man. She and Lucius team up to save the hotel, but Tallulah can't help but wonder if he will ever let go of his past love and learn to love again.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Book Trailer: </span><a href="https://youtu.be/OB-RseyCWyM" style="font-size: x-large;">https://youtu.be/OB-RseyCWyM</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LXK295J">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-haunting-of-hotel-labelle-sharon-buchbinder/1124742613">BN</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-haunting-of-hotel-labelle/id1161244513">iTunes</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-haunting-of-hotel-labelle">Kobo</a> <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thehauntingofhotellabelle-2126982-149.html">ARe</a> <a href="http://www.bookstrand.com/the-haunting-of-hotel-labelle">Bookstrand</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt:</span><br />
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A book flew at his head—and sailed through him, bouncing off the wall and landing on the floor.<br />
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Mouth agape, the woman stared from him to the book and back to him again. “You’re a ghost.”<br />
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“Not exactly. Shall we start over?” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “After a hundred years of being invisible to everyone except you, I’d like to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”<br />
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“Of course. Why not? Could today get any weirder?” She sank into the desk chair, shook her head, and sighed. “My name is Tallulah Thompson. I’m a hotel inspector, hired by the current owner as a consultant to find out why the renovations are delayed and what he needs to do to fix it. He’s teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.”<br />
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“What tribe are you?”<br />
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She jerked her head up and those doggone lapis lazuli eyes of hers sparked as if she’d strike him with lightning and kill him with one look. “No one asks that. It’s not politically correct.”<br />
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“Well, I guess you haven’t been talking to the right people. And I don’t know what you mean by that last part. I’ve never been involved in politics.”<br />
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“Nowadays, it’s considered rude to ask about another person’s national origins.” She threw her hands up. “Why am I giving a ghost an etiquette lesson? What am I thinking?”<br />
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<b>About the Author:</b><br />
<br />
Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. When not teaching or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-84751091996969341322016-11-17T05:30:00.000-05:002016-11-17T05:30:17.862-05:00Jayson Livingston<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Harbinger by Jayson Livingston ...</div>
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<span class="s1"><i>“Just finished it, phenomenal read! Comparable to early Michael Connelly's stuff but darker. I look forward to his next one.”</i></span></div>
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<i>“An exciting murder mystery with shades of CSI. Once I started to read I could not put it down. Now I have to catch up on some sleep. Authentic sounding dialog, interesting characters, and lots of twists. The accurate descriptions make you feel like you are there in rural northern California. Lots of action, good police work and character development. I look forward to the next novel by this author.”</i><br />
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">Excerpt:</span><br />
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“CHP is chasing a light-colored van.”<br />
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“Oh, snap!” Harlow followed Lane out of the office and into the unit parked near the front door.<br />
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They slammed the doors as Lane gunned the gas, lights and siren wailing, skidding out of the parking lot.<br />
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They strapped in and Lane turned up the radio.<br />
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It came to life almost immediately. “Plumas two-two-one, I’m with CHP. We’re still east bound seventy.”<br />
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“We’re a long ways off,” Lane said. He had the patrol car at over a hundred MPH and gritted his teeth as the unit slid into a turn. He passed two motor homes and a logging truck. “This would be the suck if it was mid July and the road was filled with tourists.”<br />
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Harlow nodded as he held onto the dashboard and ceiling watching Lane negotiate the many turns with ease and skill.<br />
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“Nine-oh-one, nine-oh-one,” Junior screamed into the radio. “Suspect vehicle ran CHP off the road! Start an ambulance to Highway Seventy, near Top Hat Road.” There was a long pause, and then, “We’re now west bound Highway Seventy.”<br />
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Lane nodded. “They’re heading toward us.”<br />
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At over a hundred miles an hour, Lane closed the twenty-four miles from Quincy to the Highway 70/89 junction in a mere thirteen minutes.<br />
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Lane slid the patrol car sideways to a stop at the junction of 70 and 89. Plumes of white smoke hung in the air like a thick mist. “Plumas two-two-nine I’m set up at the junction.”<br />
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“We’ll be there in a minute, Lane,” Junior said, adding, “We’re hitting speeds of over a hundred miles an hour.”<br />
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“Two-two-eight, I’m with two-two-nine.”<br />
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Lane saw Mitch coming north bound on 89. He slid to a stop near Lane’s unit.<br />
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Two CHP units coming in from the west joined the roadblock and Harlow mumbled, “I feel like I’m in a cheap seventies trucker movie.” He pulled the shotgun mounted between the front seats of the patrol car and cranked the beaver tail.<br />
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The pursuit crested the hill to the east and started down the quarter mile grade to the junction. Lane could see the flashing light bars and wig-wags of the two units. Sirens screamed in all directions.<br />
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For years to come, Lane would explain what happened next as one of the most surreal moments he had ever encountered.<br />
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The sound of a big rig’s Jake brake thumped, deafening Lane momentarily. He glanced behind him and saw the logging truck, payload heavy, trying to stop as he rounded the bend in the road. The big rig jackknifed, dropping its load. Sounds of huge pine logs hitting the pavement with thundering force echoed around them. The van was on them as the massive logs bounced down the highway. A log slammed into a CHP unit, pushing it on its side. A second log hit the undercarriage, forcing the car onto its roof. The CHP officers ran for cover on the north shoulder of the highway. A third log, smaller in diameter, punched through the back window of the second CHP car.<br />
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Lane and Harlow, close enough to their vehicle, jumped into the car, Lane slamming the gearshift into reverse and backing up into a dirt field to the south, avoiding the herd of rolling, bouncing timber.<br />
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The radio was full of chatter, units stepping on each other as each tried to convey what was happening.<br />
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Sliding left, trying to make the turn onto Highway 89, the van went onto two wheels as both Junior and the CHP unit slid past the van and into a dirt field, Junior fighting the fishtail.<br />
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Clouds of dust made visibility zero. Lane put the car in drive and drove into the wall of dust. Then they were spun; someone clipped the ass end of the patrol car. He hit the gas and cleared the dust cloud. Mitch’s voice came on the radio. “We’re west bound on Little Bear Road, heading for the Ranger Station.”<br />
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Junior was slamming through the deeper end of the dirt field, when steam billowed from the unit, rendering Junior out of the pursuit.<br />
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Lane saw the van and Mitch drop out of sight down Little Bear Road and punched the unit’s gas, saying, “Hang on!”<br />
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He rocketed past Junior’s unit, hitting two large dips, causing them to bang their heads on the roof.<br />
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“Jesus Christ!” Harlow yelled as Lane cleared the field, his tires catching traction on the pavement.<br />
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“We’re approaching Mohawk Highway,” Mitch said.<br />
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Lane was closing fast and saw the van slide into a brick retaining wall, careen off, and rocket toward the intersection.<br />
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<b>The Harbinger</b><br />
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<b>Jayson Livingston</b></div>
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Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Action,</div>
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Print Length: 312 pages</div>
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Word Count: 40,000</div>
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Publication Date: May 7, 2016<br />
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC<br />
Language: English<br />
ASIN: B01FBNA53W<br />
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">Book Description:</span><br />
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Plumas County Deputy Sheriff Lane Childress has a good life: a host of friends, a loving girlfriend, the respect of his fellow officers, all in the natural beauty of rural Northern California. Having transferred from the tough inner city beat of the Oakland PD only three years ago, his competence and integrity have earned him respect in the peaceful, mountain county. The community's quiet serenity is shattered abruptly when fourteen-year-old Kelly Stockton is found murdered, her body brutally maimed. As tourist season approaches, and another body is discovered, the pressure mounts on Lane, the lead detective. Along with State Investigator Patterson Harlow, Lane races to find the killer before further mayhem strikes the county.<br />
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;"> About the Author:</span><br />
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Jayson Livingston was born and raised in Sacramento, CA. He worked 23 years as Director of Security at the Marriott Hotel in Rancho Cordova, leaving in 2007 to pursue a career as a writer. He worked with the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department on a daily basis and has made lifelong friends with many deputies ranging from Patrol, SED, Narcotics and Homicide and has logged over 5,000 hours of ride-a-longs with the patrol division. He published is first book Point Blank (St. Martin’s Press) at the age of 25. The Harbinger is his first self-published book. Mourning of Angels, Jayson’s newest book, was just published and introduces Sacramento County Homicide Detective Luke Masters. Jayson is 51 and is married to his beautiful wife Starr.<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01FBNA53W">Amazon</a><br />
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<a href="https://twitter.com/JLivingston26">Twitter</a> @jlivingston26<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-79924348316562843742016-11-15T05:30:00.000-05:002016-11-15T05:30:01.555-05:00Melissa Kate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Love in the Fast Lane by Melissa Kate </i></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ctFTwoiPb9U/WCjZPDltDqI/AAAAAAAAFb4/C49-7qUZ3XEtZlSybyQw2yqIVQKElVCugCLcB/s1600/Media%2BKit%2BLove%2Bin%2Bthe%2BFast%2BLane%2BPages%252C%2BToday%2Bat%2B4.17.01%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ctFTwoiPb9U/WCjZPDltDqI/AAAAAAAAFb4/C49-7qUZ3XEtZlSybyQw2yqIVQKElVCugCLcB/s320/Media%2BKit%2BLove%2Bin%2Bthe%2BFast%2BLane%2BPages%252C%2BToday%2Bat%2B4.17.01%2BPM.png" width="200" /></a><b>Love in the Fast Lane</b><br />
<b>Melissa Kate</b><br />
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Contemporary Romance<br />
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Fiery Seas Publishing, LLC<br />
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November 8, 2016<br />
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<b>Book Description:</b><br />
<br />
Racecar driver, Nathan Wolf, is primed to win his first championship. A thriving career and sexy holiday fling have Nathan riding the high life. But the past haunts him and could ruin it all.<br />
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After six long years, Brielle Woods has finally put the past behind her. Or so she thought, until she bumps into the hotshot who that turned her world upside down and left her...to raise their son...alone.<br />
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Can they overcome baggage from their past and give into the passion that still burns between them? Or will they lose the chance at true happiness and the family they both long for?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Book Trailer: </span><a href="https://youtu.be/U_c6W44QtZE" style="font-size: x-large;">https://youtu.be/U_c6W44QtZE</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.fieryseaspublishing.com/love-in-the-fast-lane">Fiery Seas Publishing</a></div>
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<b>About the Author:</b><br />
<br />
Melissa Kate is a new author who lives in a small town along the coast in sunny South Africa. She writes for the pleasure of living in a new story and all the quirks and crazies that go with each character. A true romantic at heart, she loves the moment of falling in love. Her pet Beagle and maniacal lovebird keep her company while writing and often inspire senseless moments in her stories.<br />
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When she’s not furiously typing away on her laptop, Melissa can be found cooking or baking up a storm. Even she has to admit, she’s a pretty awesome chef. She has a small addiction with shoes which she attributes to her petite stature or as she likes to call it “Short girl problems”.<br />
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She balances her day job and conjuring up new romantic tales with a local personal blog with arb ramblings about her life in Durban. She’s been writing for years now, any bits that she can and she can't wait to share that with you!<br />
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Website: <a href="http://www.melissakatebooks.com/">http://www.melissakatebooks.com/</a><br />
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Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/MelissaKate_1">https://twitter.com/MelissaKate_1</a><br />
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Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/melissakatebooks">https://www.facebook.com/melissakatebooks</a><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-55495228167330910862016-11-08T05:30:00.000-05:002016-11-08T05:30:11.929-05:00Ann Gimpel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ann Gimpel"s Demon Assassins Series</div>
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<b>Witch’s Bounty <br />Demon Assassins <br />Book One <br />Ann Gimpel</b><br />
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Dream Shadow Press<br />
66K words<br />
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Release Date: 9/6/16<br />
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance<br />
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Urban Fantasy Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!<br />
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<b>Book Description: </b><br />
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One of three remaining demon assassin witches, Colleen is almost the last of her kind. Along with her familiar, a changeling spirit, she was hoping for a few months of quiet, running a small magicians’ supply store in Fairbanks, Alaska. Peace isn’t in the cards, though. Demons are raising hell in Seattle. She’s on her way to kick some serious demon ass, when a Sidhe shows up and demands she accompany him to England to quell a demon uprising.<br />
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Gutsy, opinionated, and outspoken, Colleen refuses to come. Witches need her help, and they trump everything else. Despite breaking a prime Sidhe precept concerning non-interference in mortals’ affairs, Duncan offers his assistance. Colleen fascinates him, and he wants to discover more about her. Lots more.<br />
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The Sidhe might be the best-looking man Colleen’s ever stumbled over, but she doesn’t have time for him—or much of anything else. She, Jenna, and Roz are Earth’s only hedge against being overrun by Hell’s minions. Even with help from a powerful magic wielder like Duncan, the odds aren’t good and the demons know it.<br />
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Sensing victory is within their grasp, they close in for the kill.<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2aALtER">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/witchs-bounty-ann-gimpel/1118866443;jsessionid=145BB2C93DC0FDC6A27F90718A3B4998.prodny_store02-atgap09?ean=2940153331836">BN</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/witch-s-bounty-1">Kobo</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1141697235">iBooks</a> <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-witch039sbounty-2085543-153.html">ARe</a> <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=3tzMDAAAQBAJ">Google Play</a> <a href="https://store7714213.ecwid.com/#!/Witchs-Bounty-Demon-Assassins-1/p/69813551/category=15913862">Author’s Store</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from Witch’s Bounty: </span></b><br />
<br />
Rain worsened from a steady drizzle to a pounding, punishing deluge of icy sleet. Colleen Kelly strengthened the spell around herself. It sizzled where it ran up against the droplets. At least she wasn't quite as wet as she would have been without its protection. Pavement glistened wetly in the last of the day's light. It was just past three in the afternoon, but December days were short in the northern latitudes and Fairbanks was pretty far north.<br />
<br />
“At least it’s not snowing,” she muttered as she pushed through a nearby glass-fronted door into the magicians’ supply store she owned with two other witches in the older part of downtown. Bells hanging around the door pealed discordantly. She sent a small jolt of magic to silence them.<br />
<br />
“I heard that. Not the bells, but you. It’s supposed to snow this time of year. How could you possibly be pleased the weather patterns have gone to hell?”<br />
<br />
Jenna Neil stalked over to the coatrack where Colleen stood. Blonde hair, hacked off at shoulder level, framed a gamine’s face and shrewd, hazel eyes. Jenna towered over Colleen’s six foot height by a good four inches, and her broad shoulders would’ve made most men jealous. Between her trademark high-heeled boots and a scruffy embroidered red cloak tossed over skintight blue jeans, she looked as exotic as the anti-hex hoop earrings dangling from each ear.<br />
<br />
Colleen rolled her eyes, shook out her coat, and hung it on the rack. “Spare me your lecture about global warming, okay? It’s cold enough to snow. It just isn’t, for some reason.”<br />
<br />
“Mmph.” The line of Jenna’s jaw tensed.<br />
<br />
Indian spices wafted through the air, mingling with the scents of herbs, dried flowers, and desiccated body parts from small animals. Colleen’s stomach growled. Breakfast had been at six that morning—a long time ago. Pretty bad when even dried newt smelled like food.<br />
<br />
“Did you cook something?” she asked. “And if you did, is there any left?”<br />
<br />
A terse nod. Jenna turned away, walking fast. Colleen lengthened her normal stride to catch up. “Hey, sweetie. What happened? You can’t be in this big a snit over the weather.”<br />
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Jenna kept walking, heading for the small kitchen at the back of the store. “A lot of things. I was just having a cup of tea. Shop’s been dead today.” She disappeared behind a curtain.<br />
<br />
Colleen glanced over one shoulder at the empty store. The phalanx of bells around the door would alert them if anyone stopped in. The minute she tugged the heavy, upholstery fabric that served as a kitchen door aside, the pungent tang of Irish whiskey made her eyes water. “You said tea.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, well I spiked it.”<br />
<br />
Colleen grunted. “Smells like you took a bath in booze. What the fuck happened?” She grabbed the larger woman and spun her so they faced one another.<br />
<br />
“We got another pay-your-tithe-or-die e-mail from our Coven.” Jenna’s nostrils flared in annoyance.<br />
<br />
“So? That’s like the tenth one.” There were new policies none of them agreed with, so they’d joined with about twenty other witches and stopped paying the monthly stipend that supported their Coven’s hierarchy.<br />
<br />
“It’s not what’s bothering me.” Jenna pulled free from Colleen, tipped her cup, and took a slug of what smelled like mostly liquor.<br />
<br />
Colleen fought a desire to swat her. Getting to the point quickly had never been one of Jenna’s talents. She clamped her jaws together. “What is?”<br />
<br />
“Roz called with…problems.” Jenna turned and started toward the steep staircase ladder leading to her bedroom above the shop.<br />
<br />
“You can’t just drop that bomb and leave.” Colleen made another grab for Jenna to keep her in the kitchen. Worry for their friend ate at her. Of the three of them, Roz was by far the most volatile. “What happened? I thought she was in Missouri, or maybe it was Oklahoma, visiting that dishy dude she met online.”<br />
<br />
“Didn’t work out.” The corners of Jenna’s mouth twisted downward.<br />
<br />
Colleen quirked a brow, urging her friend to say more.<br />
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Jenna plowed on. “He only wanted her for her magic. Turned out he preferred men.”<br />
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“Aw, shit.” Colleen blew out a breath. “She must’ve been disappointed.”<br />
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Half a snorting laugh bubbled past Jenna’s lips. “Maybe now she is. At the time, furious would’ve been closer to the mark.”<br />
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Colleen’s throat tightened. “Crap! What’d she do? She didn’t hurt him, did she?”<br />
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“Not directly. She turned him over to the local Coven.”<br />
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“Thank God!” Colleen let go of Jenna and laid a hand over her heart. Roxanne Lantry was more than capable of killing anyone who pissed her off. It was how she ended up in Alaska. Roz hadn’t exactly been caught when her cheating husband and his two girlfriends went missing, but she hadn’t stuck around to encourage the authorities to question her, either.<br />
<br />
Colleen and Jenna had already left Seattle when that little incident went down. Roz repressed her antipathy for Alaska’s legendary foul weather and joined them. Magically, she was strong as an ox, and she had a hell of a temper.<br />
<br />
Colleen’s stomach growled again. Louder this time. It didn’t give a good goddamn about anything other than its empty state. She pushed past Jenna to the stove, lifted a lid, and peered into a battered aluminum pot. Curry blasted her. The spicy odor stung her eyes and made her nose run.<br />
<br />
“Whew. Potent. Mind if I help myself?”<br />
<br />
“Go ahead.” Jenna sat heavily in one of two chairs with a rickety wooden table between them. She picked up her mug and took another long swallow.<br />
<br />
Dish in hand, Colleen slapped it on the table in front of the other chair and went in search of a mug of her own. There weren’t any clean ones, so she plucked one out of the sink and rinsed it. Back at the stove, she tipped the teakettle. Thick, amber liquid spilled from its stubby snout into her waiting mug. Jenna waggled the whiskey bottle in her direction.<br />
<br />
“Nah.” Colleen settled at the table. “It would go right to my head. Maybe after I get some food on board.” She tucked in. After the first few mouthfuls, when the curry powder nearly annihilated her taste buds, the pea, potato, and ham mixture wasn’t half-bad.<br />
<br />
Jenna drank steadily, not offering anything by way of conversation.<br />
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When Colleen’s dish was empty, she refilled her mug with tea, filched a couple of biscuits from the cupboard, and sat back down. “Are you going to talk to me?”<br />
<br />
“I suppose so.” Jenna’s words slurred slightly.<br />
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Colleen cocked her head to one side. “I suggest you start now, before you forget how.”<br />
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“Oh, please.” Jenna blew out a breath, showering the small space with whiskey fumes. Colleen waited. The other witch could be stubborn. Wheedling, cajoling, or urging wouldn’t work until she was good and ready to talk.<br />
<br />
Finally, after so long Colleen had nearly chewed a hole in her cheek, Jenna finally muttered, “Roz called.”<br />
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Colleen ground her teeth together. “You already said that. It’s how you knew what happened with the guy.”<br />
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Jenna nodded. “There’s more.” She picked up the whiskey, started to pour it into her mug, then apparently changed her mind and drank right from the bottle. “She’s in Seattle. Checked in with Witches’ Northwest, just to say hello, and because she wanted to touch base with people she’s known for a long time.”<br />
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Another long pause. Colleen batted back a compulsion spell. It wasn’t nice to use those on your friends. She shoved her hands under her bottom to reduce the temptation.<br />
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Jenna lowered her voice until Colleen had to strain to hear. “The Irichna demons are back.”<br />
<br />
“But our last confrontation wasn’t all that long ago. Only a few months. Sometimes when we best them, they’ve stayed gone for years.”<br />
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Colleen shook her head. Even the sound of the word, Irichna, crackled against her ears, making them tingle unpleasantly. Irichna demons were the worst. Hands down, no contest. They worked for Abbadon, Demon of the Abyss. Evil didn’t get much worse than that. No wonder Jenna was drinking. Colleen held her hand out for the bottle—suddenly a drink seemed like a most excellent idea—and picked her words with care. “Did Roz actually sight one?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah. She also asked if we could come and help. More than asked. She came as close to begging as I’ve ever heard her.”<br />
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“Erk. They have a whole Coven there. Several if you count all the ones in western Washington. Why do they need us?” Colleen belted back a stiff mouthful of whiskey. It burned a track all the way to her stomach where it did battle with all the curry she’d eaten.<br />
<br />
Jenna just shot her a look. “You know why.”<br />
<br />
Colleen swallowed again, hoping for oblivion, except it couldn’t come quick enough. She knew exactly why, but the answer stuck in her craw and threatened to choke her. The three of them were the last of a long line of demon assassins, witches with specialized powers, able to lure demons, immobilize them, and send them packing to the netherworld.<br />
<br />
When things worked right.<br />
<br />
They often didn’t, though, which was what killed off the other demon assassin witches. It didn’t help that demons as a group had been gathering power these last fifty years or so. Witches lived for a long time, but they were far from immortal, and demon assassin ability was genetic. She, Jenna, or Roz would have to produce children or that strain of magic would die out. So far, none of them had come anywhere close to identifying a guy who looked like husband material…<br />
<br />
Colleen looked at her hands. Even absent a husband, none of them had a shred of domesticity. Certainly not enough to saddle themselves with offspring.<br />
<br />
“What’s the matter?” Jenna grinned wickedly, clearly more than a little drunk. “Cat got your tongue too?”<br />
<br />
As if on cue, a blood-curdling meow rose from a shadowed corner of the kitchen and Bubba, Colleen’s resident familiar, padded forward. When he was halfway to them, he gathered his haunches beneath him and sprang to the table. It rocked alarmingly, and Jenna made a grab for her cup. The large black cat skinned his lips back from his upper teeth, bared his incisors, and hissed.<br />
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“Oh, all right.” Colleen clamped her jaws tight and summoned the magic to shift Bubba to his primary form, a gnarled three-foot changeling.<br />
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The air shimmered around him. Before it cleared, he swiped the liquor out of her hand and drained the bottle.<br />
<br />
“Would’ve been a good reason to leave you a cat,” Jenna mumbled.<br />
<br />
He stood on the table and glared at both of them, elbows akimbo, bottle still dangling from his oversized fingers. “If you’re going to fight demons, you have to take me with you.”<br />
<br />
“No, we don’t,” Colleen countered.<br />
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“You don’t follow directions well,” Jenna said pointedly.<br />
<br />
“Isn’t that the truth?” Colleen rotated her head from side to side, starting to feel the whiskey. At least once when they’d humored the changeling, he’d almost gotten all of them killed. Problem was she couldn’t predict when he’d follow her orders, and when he’d decide on a different tack altogether. Then there were the times his fearlessness had saved them all.<br />
<br />
Bubba might be a wildcard, but he was her wildcard.<br />
<br />
“You forgot when I welcomed your spirit into my body—and kept it alive—while the healers worked on you.” Bubba eyed Colleen, sounding smug.<br />
<br />
“If you hadn’t decided to play hero, and needed to be rescued, the demons wouldn’t have injured me.” Colleen winced at the sour undertone in her voice. That incident had happened five years before. Maybe it was time she got over it.<br />
<br />
“Nevertheless.” He tossed his shaggy head, thick with hair as black as the cat’s. “When you conjured me from the barrows of Ireland, and bound me, we became a unit. You can’t go off and leave me here. It would be like leaving a part of yourself behind.” His dark eyes glittered with challenge.<br />
<br />
“I hate to admit it—” Jenna sounded a little less drunk “—but he’s right.”<br />
<br />
“See.” Bubba leered at them, jumped off the table, and waddled over to the stove with his bowlegged gait. Once there, he opened the oven, climbed onto its door, and peeked into the pot. He started to stick a hand inside.<br />
<br />
“Hold it right there, bud.” Colleen got to her feet, covered the distance to the stove, and dished him up some of the curry mixture. “Get some clothes on and you can have this.”<br />
<br />
He clambered down from his perch and over to several colorful canisters scattered around the house where she stashed outfits for him. Keeping Bubba clothed had been a huge problem until she’d hatched up a plan, and sewn him several pant and shirt combos with Velcro closures, since he didn’t like buttons or zippers.<br />
<br />
The changeling dressed quickly and took the bowl from her. “I could’ve gotten my own food.”<br />
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“Better for the rest of us if you keep your paws out of the cook pot.” Jenna stood a bit unsteadily. “I’ll be right back.”<br />
<br />
Bubba stuffed food into his mouth with his fingers. “Where’s she going?” His words came out garbled as he chewed open-mouthed.<br />
<br />
Colleen looked away. “Probably to pee. Maybe to throw up. Um, look, Bubba, it might be wiser if we took a quick side trip to Ireland and released you.”<br />
<br />
She glanced sidelong at the changeling spirit she’d summoned during a major demon war forty years before. He’d been truly helpful then, especially after he’d mastered English, which hadn’t taken him all that long. In the intervening time, he’d mostly clung to his feline form, eating and keeping their shop free of mice and rats. They’d lived in Seattle the first ten years or so after he joined them, relocating to Alaska to conceal their longevity. She dragged the heels of her hands down her face, feeling tired. It was getting close to time to move again, but she didn’t want to think about it.<br />
<br />
Bubba shook his head emphatically. Food flew from the sides of his mouth. He scooped a glob off the floor and ate it anyway. “I have to agree to being released. I don’t want to go back to my barrow. I like it much better here.”<br />
<br />
Colleen sucked in a hollow breath, blew it out, and did it again. Bubba was right. Rules were rules. He’d had a choice at the front end. He could’ve refused her. Witches respected all living creatures. The ones on the good side of the road, anyway. No forced servitude for their familiars, despite rumors to the contrary.<br />
<br />
Jenna lurched back into the kitchen looking a little green. “You okay?” Colleen asked.<br />
<br />
“Yeah. I drank too much, that’s all.” She rinsed her mug at the sink, refilled it with tap water, and sat back down. “Did you two come up with a plan?”<br />
<br />
“I’m going.” Bubba left his dish on the floor and vaulted back onto the table.<br />
<br />
Jenna rolled red-rimmed eyes. “That was the discussion when I left.”<br />
<br />
“Your point?” Colleen swallowed irritation.<br />
<br />
“Nothing.” The other witch sounded sullen, but maybe she just didn’t feel well.<br />
<br />
“I offered to free him—” Colleen began.<br />
<br />
“I refused,” Bubba cut in. He shook his head. “No recognition for all my years of loyal service. Tsk. You should be—”<br />
<br />
“Stuff it.” Jenna glared at him. “We have bigger problems than your wounded ego.”<br />
<br />
He stuck out his lower lip, looking injured as only a changeling spirit could, but he didn’t say anything else.<br />
<br />
“I suppose we have to go to Seattle,” Colleen muttered, half to herself.<br />
<br />
“Don’t see any way around it.” Jenna worried her lower lip between her teeth.<br />
<br />
“What exactly did Roz say?”<br />
<br />
“We didn’t talk long. Her cellphone battery was almost dead.” A muscle twitched beneath Jenna’s eye. “She’d just stopped in at Coven Headquarters and the group mobbed her. Said we had to come. They’ve already lost about twenty witches to stealth demon attacks.”<br />
<br />
Colleen’s heart skipped a few beats. Twenty witches was a lot. Maybe a quarter of the Witches’ Northwest Coven. “Crap. When did the attacks start?”<br />
<br />
“Only a few days ago. They’d planned to call us, but saw it as goddess intervention when Roz showed up.”<br />
<br />
“Damn that Oklahoma cowboy.” Colleen pounded a fist into her open palm. “If his Coven doesn’t flatten him, I will.”<br />
<br />
“He wasn’t a cowboy.” Jenna’s voice held a flat, dead sound. “He was supposed to be a witch. You know, like us.”<br />
<br />
“Doesn’t matter.”<br />
<br />
“Do you want to close things up here, or should I try to get someone from our Coven to fill in at the shop?” Jenna looked pale, but the tipsy aspect had left her face.<br />
<br />
Colleen shook her head. “We haven’t sold enough in the last few weeks to make it worthwhile to pay someone to clerk for us.”<br />
<br />
“Okay.” Jenna’s hazel eyes clouded with worry. “When do you want to leave?”<br />
<br />
“If you asked Witches’ Northwest, we probably should’ve left three days ago.”<br />
<br />
“How are we getting there?” Bubba squared his hunched shoulders as much as he could and eyed Colleen.<br />
<br />
“Excellent question.” Jenna looked at Colleen too.<br />
<br />
She raised her hands in front of her face, palms out. “Stop it, you two. I can’t deal with the pressure.” Colleen clamped her jaws together and considered their options. Roz already had a car in Seattle. It didn’t make sense to drive their other one down, plus it would take too long. Flying with Bubba was impossible. He looked too odd in his gnome form and his cat form didn’t do well with the pressure changes. They had to teleport, which would seriously deplete their magic and mean they couldn’t fight so much as a disembodied spirit for at least twenty-four hours after they arrived.<br />
<br />
Jenna screwed her face into an apologetic scowl, apparently having come to the same conclusion. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not more help. There’s something about that particular mix of earth, fire, and air that I always bungle.”<br />
<br />
Air whistled through Colleen’s teeth. It had been so long since they’d teleported anywhere, she’d almost forgotten Jenna’s ineptitude with the requisite spell. “How about this? You go down to the basement and practice. I’ll get a few things together…”<br />
<br />
“What do you want me to do?” Bubba asked.<br />
<br />
“You can help me,” Jenna said. “I’ll do better if I have an object to practice with.”<br />
<br />
The changeling scrunched his low forehead into a mass of wrinkles. “Just don’t get me lost.”<br />
<br />
“Even if she does, I’ll be able to find you.” Colleen tried to sound reassuring. She was fond of her familiar. In many ways, he was very childlike.<br />
<br />
Heh! Maybe that’s why I’ve been so reluctant to have a kid. I already have one who’ll never grow up.<br />
<br />
The bells around the shop door clanged a discordant riot of notes. “Crap!” Jenna shot to her feet. “First customer in two days. I should’ve locked the damn door.”<br />
<br />
“Back to cat form.” Colleen flicked her fingers at Bubba, who shrank obligingly and slithered out of clothing, which puddled around him. She snatched up his shirt and pants and dropped them back into the canister.<br />
<br />
“I say,” a strongly accented male voice called out. “Is anyone here?”<br />
<br />
“I’ll take care of the Brit,” Colleen mouthed. “Take Bubba to the basement and practice.”<br />
<br />
She got to her feet and stepped past the curtain. “Yes?” She gazed around the dimly lit store for their customer.<br />
<br />
A tall, powerfully built man, wearing dark slacks and a dark turtleneck, strode toward her, a woolen greatcoat slung over one arm. His white-blond hair was drawn back into a queue. Arresting facial bones—sculpted cheeks, strong jaw, high forehead—captured her attention and stole her breath. He was quite possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Discerning green eyes zeroed in on her face, caught her gaze, and held it. Magic danced around him in a numinous shroud. Strong magic.<br />
<br />
What was he?<br />
<br />
And then she knew. Daoine Sidhe. The man had to be Sidhe royalty. No wonder he was so stunning it almost hurt to look at him.<br />
<br />
Colleen held her ground. She placed her feet shoulder width apart and crossed her arms over her chest. “What can I help you with?”<br />
<br />
“Colleen Kelly?”<br />
<br />
Okay, so he knows who I am. Doesn’t mean a thing. He’s Sidhe. Could’ve plucked my name right out of my head.<br />
<br />
“That would be me. How can I help you?” she repeated, burying a desire to lick nervously at her lips.<br />
<br />
“Time is short. I’ve been hunting you for a while now. Come closer, witch. We need to talk.”<br />
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<b>Witch’s Bane <br />Demon Assassins <br />Book 2 <br />Ann Gimpel</b><br />
<br />
Dream Shadow Press<br />
<br />
66K words<br />
Release Date: 9/6/16<br />
<br />
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance<br />
<br />
Urban Fantasy Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: medium;">Book Description: </span></b><br />
<br />
Last of the demon assassin witches, Roz, Jenna, and Colleen have escaped disaster so far, but their luck is running low. Demons strike in the midst of Colleen’s wedding, and Roz launches desperate measures. As she shape-shifts to keep one step ahead of evil, at least it takes her mind off her other problems. Personal ones. She burned through a couple of marriages and hooked up with a string of loser men before, after, and in between. Though she wants to be happy for Colleen, the jealousy bug bit deep and hasn’t let go.<br />
<br />
In Roz’s secret heart, she’s attracted to Ronin, one of the Daoine Sidhe. He’s so profanely beautiful she can barely breathe around him, but he’s also headstrong and arrogant. Not good partner material—unless she wants to end up dusting her heart off one more time.<br />
<br />
Ronin set his sights on Roz the day he met her, and he can’t get her out of his mind. Unfortunately, she’s so prickly getting close to her requires scheming. He casts an enchantment to lure her at Colleen’s wedding, but she senses the spell and calls him on it. Demons swarm out of the ether before he can come up with another strategy. Killing them trumps everything.<br />
<br />
Roz is used to calling the shots. So is Ronin. Sparks fly. Tempers run hot, right along with an attraction too heady to ignore.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from Witch’s Bane: </span></b><br />
<br />
Roxanne Lantry—Roz to everyone who knew her—paced up and down the sodden lawn outside the huge old Victorian that housed the Witches’ Northwest Coven headquarters in Seattle. Rain pelted her from beneath a gunmetal sky, but it was better out here than inside. She fought an unfamiliar thickening at the back of her throat and balled her hands into fists.<br />
<br />
“I will not cry,” she muttered to an inquisitive ground squirrel that ran across her boot tops, but telling herself and controlling her emotions were two different things.<br />
<br />
One of her two best friends, Colleen Kelly, would be getting married in less than half an hour. Roz had been inside, in the midst of all the bride-craziness, but seeing Colleen swathed in cream-colored lace sent her into a tailspin.<br />
<br />
What the fuck is wrong with me?<br />
<br />
She kicked at a hummock of grass and yelped when it didn’t move, but the pain from her stubbed toes helped her focus. If she was honest, not an easy task when men were involved, she knew exactly what was bothering her.<br />
<br />
“Yeah,” she mouthed the words, lecturing herself. “Two failed marriages and a whole bunch of loser dudes before, after, and in between. I’m jealous and I need a good, swift boot in the backside. Just because Colleen finally stumbled across Mr. Right doesn’t lower my odds of ever finding someone who’s gorgeous and magical and worships me.”<br />
<br />
Now if I could only believe that…<br />
<br />
Roz was happy for Colleen and Duncan, the Daoine Sidhe she was marrying. They made a great couple, but surely there was enough connubial bliss in the universe to sprinkle a little her way too. Her last go-round with a strikingly handsome Oklahoman she’d met online had ended in fireworks when he’d admitted all he really wanted was to tap into her magical ability. When the rubber met the road, he didn’t even like women. Her stomach churned. She hated being made a fool of. She’d turned the guy in to his Coven for false advertising and laying a trap to delude a fellow magic wielder, but she doubted they’d done much to censure him.<br />
<br />
Water dripped off her nose. She stuck out her lower lip and blew upward, but the rain kept on dripping. Roz shook her fist at the low-hanging clouds, recognizing it for displacement activity. What she really wanted to do was pound her fist through the Oklahoman’s nice, straight nose.<br />
<br />
Enough of this. Give it a rest. That happened months ago.<br />
<br />
For Christ’s sake, I need to get moving, go inside, and trade my jeans and serape for fancy duds.<br />
<br />
Roz took a few deep breaths to settle her angst. She couldn’t show her tear-stained face to the world. She’d never live it down. When she closed her eyes, the Oklahoma asshole formed behind her lids, taunting her. Roz clenched her jaw and summoned a calming spell. It seemed like cheating, but time was short. As the wispy edges of magic caught her up, they soothed her frazzled nerves and she turned hard right and headed for the house at a brisk trot.<br />
<br />
She, Colleen, and Jenna Neil were the last of a long line of demon assassins. Witches with specialized powers, they lured Irichna demons, immobilized them, and sent them packing to the netherworld. When things worked right, she and her sister witches—along with Colleen’s familiar—shanghaied the demons and locked them behind the gate guarding the Ninth Circle of Hell.<br />
<br />
The demons didn’t go without a fight, though, which was what had killed off the other demon assassin witches. It didn’t help that demons as a group had been gathering power these last fifty years or so. Witches lived a long time, but they were far from immortal, and demon assassination ability was genetic. She, Jenna, or Colleen would have to produce children or that strain of magic would die out. None of them had a shred of domesticity, so no one had signed up for motherhood. At least not yet.<br />
<br />
I can’t put two weeks together without a major demon battle these days. How the hell could I take time off to raise a kid?<br />
<br />
Rain ran down her neck and Roz shivered. Thinking about demons chilled her bones. Realizing she’d stopped walking, she plodded toward the house again and forced her thoughts to the magicians’ supply store she owned with Colleen and Jenna in Fairbanks, Alaska.<br />
<br />
The other two witches had moved there months ahead of her. She hated the idea of all that snow and cold and winter nights that lasted twenty hours, but she’d boxed herself into a dicey situation and hadn’t had much choice. Her temper, never very controllable on a good day, had gotten the better of her, and she made short work of her cheating husband and his two—yup, count ’em—girlfriends. After that, she’d packed up and headed her aging Subaru north. Next stop, Fairbanks…<br />
<br />
That had happened a few years ago. So many, it was almost time to move on before anyone noticed she and the other witches didn’t seem to grow any older.<br />
<br />
Roz shook her head, not wanting to go there, either. She forced her mind back to the special skill she shared with Colleen and Jenna. She hated to admit it, but demons held the high cards these days, and she had no idea how to even the odds.<br />
<br />
Aren’t I just the queen of cheerful?<br />
<br />
She gave herself a mental shake with instructions to snap out of her funk.<br />
<br />
Roz made it to the huge house and tugged on one of the ground level doors. When it didn’t open, she hit it with a jolt of magic, and the deadbolt snicked aside. She stopped long enough to shake water off her and then loped down a long corridor with a concrete floor toward one of the old mansion’s many stairwells. Fluorescent lights, recessed into the ceiling, gave off a sickly yellow gleam that matched her sour mood.<br />
<br />
She’d just begun climbing upward when a rush of footsteps sounded from the hallway below.<br />
<br />
“There you are,” Bubba, Colleen’s familiar, cried out and leapt up the stairs after her.<br />
<br />
Roz glanced over a shoulder and saw he was in his normal form: a three-foot-tall changeling with oversized feet, long arms, and a bow-legged gait. His shaggy, black hair had been brushed until it shone, and his dark eyes glittered mischievously. Colleen had a hell of a time keeping him dressed, but today he sported black pants and a black jacket over a white shirt.<br />
<br />
“Yes,” Roz countered, still feeling out of sorts. “Here I am. The question is why aren’t you upstairs with everyone else?”<br />
<br />
“Colleen got worried. She sent me to hunt you down.” Bubba crossed his arms over his chest, looking pleased with himself.<br />
<br />
Roz rolled her eyes. “Bubba, look—”<br />
<br />
“Uh-uh.” He uncrossed his arms and waggled a finger at her. “Niall. Remember, you all promised to use my real name from now on.”<br />
<br />
“So we did. Crap! I don’t have time for this.” She unkinked her neck and trudged upward.<br />
<br />
“No kidding,” he agreed. “Everyone’s here, and you’re not even dressed yet.”<br />
<br />
Rather than focus on her shortcomings, Roz changed the subject. “You’re looking pretty spiffy, bud.”<br />
<br />
“Do you like it?”<br />
<br />
“What I saw of it. It’s sort of like a black tuxedo, but with Velcro instead of buttons.”<br />
<br />
“I hate buttons.”<br />
<br />
Roz grinned in spite of herself. “I know you do, sweetie.”<br />
<br />
She came to the third floor landing and pushed the stairwell door open, holding it for the changeling. “Run and tell Colleen I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked briskly halfway down the long hall and let herself into her bedroom. Locking the door behind her, she unlaced her wet boots and toed them off. Next she shucked her sodden clothes, ducked into the bathroom, and gathered strands of coal black hair, pulling it into a ponytail with both hands. Once she had her hair together, she wrapped her head in a towel. She didn’t believe in hair dryers, so once she’d soaked as much water as she could into the towel, she grabbed her comb, made several sections, and plaited her knee-length, straight-as-a-stick hair, weaving it into a pseudo-French braid.<br />
<br />
Before she left the bathroom, she inspected her face in the mirror. She never wore makeup because it made her look like a clown. Her bronzed skin and stark bone structure declared her Native American blood more clearly than words could have. She smoothed her eyebrows with a few drops of water and considered which of two outfits to wear. Colleen had said it didn’t matter to her, so long as Roz didn’t show up in her usual tattered blue jeans and combat boots.<br />
<br />
With a snort of amusement, she padded back into the bedroom and pulled a long, beaded black buckskin skirt off a hanger. She stepped into it and laced the side fastening. Next came a turquoise deerskin top, also beaded, that clung to her like a second skin. In addition to not bothering with makeup, she also didn’t care for underthings, so the outline of her breasts was clearly visible through the soft leather. She slipped a heavy silver and turquoise necklace over her head, arranging her braid on top of it, and grabbed a matching ring off the dresser.<br />
<br />
The only thing left was her moccasins. Roz wriggled her feet into them, enjoying the way the deerskin warmed and hugged her feet. Jenna always wore high heels, but Roz had never understood how she could tolerate them. They’d had a few heated discussions years ago before Roz finally gave up.<br />
<br />
“To each her own,” she told the mirror. Satisfied she looked presentable, she focused the threads of her calming spell, strengthened it a bit to make certain she’d last through the ceremony without breaking down and bawling like an idiot, and let herself into the hallway.<br />
<br />
The buzz of a crowd reached her from the main floor. She glanced toward the stairs and then the other way, wondering if Colleen was still up here. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to find out, she walked two doors down and knocked. The door flew open almost immediately and she looked into an accusing set of pale blue eyes.<br />
<br />
“It’s about fucking time,” Colleen exclaimed. Auburn hair with lily of the valley woven into it swirled around her, falling to waist level. At six feet, Colleen was normally a good four inches shorter than Roz, but today she wore heels and they were of a height.<br />
<br />
“Huh?” Roz murmured, confused. “I almost went downstairs. I had no idea you were waiting for me.”<br />
<br />
“We’d planned to all go down together.” Colleen sounded sullen. “You know, like a proper wedding party.”<br />
<br />
“If we were all that proper,” Roz said, “Jenna and I would be wearing matching—”<br />
<br />
Jenna made chopping motions with both hands and unfolded her well-rounded frame from off the bed. Blonde hair, hacked off at shoulder level, framed a gamine’s face with shrewd, hazel eyes. Rather than her standard, thrift store couture, today she wore a short beige silk skirt, a lacy blouse, and her trademark high-heeled boots. Huge, golden hoops graced her ears.<br />
<br />
She walked to Roz’s side and looped an arm through hers. “Don’t think anything of it. The bride—” she waved an airy hand Colleen’s way “—has been antsy as a scalded cat all day.”<br />
<br />
Colleen closed her teeth together with an audible clack. “Maybe I’m making a mistake.”<br />
<br />
Roz and Jenna turned to stare at her. “What?” Jenna asked, incredulous.<br />
<br />
“Hey, if you don’t want him—” Roz began.<br />
<br />
“No shit,” Jenna interrupted. “Tall, blond, drop dead gorgeous. Those green eyes are to die for and those shoulders.” She made panting noises. “The couple of times I saw him without a shirt, I almost came just watching his muscles rustle beneath his skin when he walked.”<br />
<br />
Colleen rolled her eyes. “You two are impossible. Can’t a bride have a case of jitters without her two closest friends turning into vultures?”<br />
<br />
“No.” Roz looked down her nose at Colleen. “Considering how long and hard I’ve hunted for decent partner material…” She let her words trail off before the extent of her jealousy leaked out.<br />
<br />
The door blew inward and Bubba marched in, hands on his hips. “Come on. Everyone’s ready.” He lowered his voice, but not by much. “I think Duncan’s worried that you—” he pointed at Colleen “—got cold feet.”<br />
<br />
“She nearly did,” Jenna muttered.<br />
<br />
“Aw, crap. Guess I need to go tell everyone the wedding’s off.” Bubba did an about face, but before he could sprint through the open door, Colleen snatched him up.<br />
<br />
“You’ll do no such thing.” She swallowed audibly. “I’m ready. I guess.”<br />
<br />
“Let go of me.” Bubba writhed in her grasp.<br />
<br />
“Not before you promise to keep your mouth shut.”<br />
<br />
Roz smirked. Circumspection was not exactly the changeling’s long suit. She walked to Bubba’s other side. “I’ll take him.” She held out her arms.<br />
<br />
“I can walk,” the changeling said with a great deal of dignity, “as soon as Colleen lets go of me.”<br />
<br />
“You haven’t promised,” Colleen said. “Please, sweetie. It’s important to me. A girl needs to have some things stay private.”<br />
<br />
He blew out an annoyed sounding breath. “All right. I promise.” Colleen relaxed her grip. Shaking himself like a dog might have, the gnome-like changeling chuckled. “Too bad. Something like that’s a prime piece of gossip.”<br />
<br />
Colleen broke into a broad grin. “Right up your alley, eh?”<br />
<br />
Roz made shooing motions. “Let’s get going. You don’t want all that food the Sidhe catered to get cold do you?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t care about food,” Colleen mumbled. “I’m so nervous I probably won’t be able to eat a thing.”<br />
<br />
“Well I do,” Jenna said. “I’m with Roz. Let’s get this show on the road.”<br />
<br />
“Have a couple belts of whiskey,” Roz suggested. “It’ll do wonders for your nerves.”<br />
<br />
The hallway air brightened and shimmered. When it cleared, Titania, Queen of Faerie, shook floor-length silvery hair out of her ice blue eyes and pushed it over her shoulders. A diaphanous gown, more jewels than fabric, floated around her tall, thin frame. “Is there some problem?” she inquired with asperity, and her gaze zeroed in on Colleen.<br />
<br />
Colleen half curtseyed.<br />
<br />
Roz considered it, but didn’t because Titania wasn’t her queen.<br />
<br />
“No problem at all.” Colleen inclined her head. “We were just on our way.”<br />
<br />
The Queen of Faerie’s severe expression softened. “Thank the goddess. For a minute there, I was afraid you were going to break Duncan’s heart.” She strode forward and thumped Colleen’s chest with a bony forefinger. “If you ever hurt that boy, I’ll hunt you down and make you very sorry.”<br />
<br />
“That boy—” Colleen held the queen’s gaze “—is a thousand-year-old man.”<br />
<br />
Titania furled her perfect silver brows. “Details. Besides, it’s rude to contradict me. Privilege of age and rank and all that. Let’s go. I haven’t performed a marriage in centuries. I’m quite looking forward to it.”<br />
<br />
Colleen’s eyes widened. “I thought Naomi, the leader of this Coven, was going to join Duncan and me.”<br />
<br />
“We both have roles to play.” Titania’s mouth twitched. “Surely you didn’t think I’d let one of my own be bound in marriage without my magic involved.”<br />
<br />
“I have no idea what I thought,” Colleen managed, but she looked ready to throttle the queen.<br />
<br />
Before things got any tenser and Colleen started in about it being her wedding, Roz herded them out the door and down the hallway. Colleen stopped for a moment at the head of the stairway, tension rolling off her in waves.<br />
<br />
Roz wrapped an arm around her. “It will be fine,” she whispered. “Just fine.” After a quick hug, she let go.<br />
<br />
As if those six words did the trick—or maybe it was the hug—Colleen swept down the long, curved staircase, looking regal. Roz, Jenna, and Titania jostled one another as they made their way down the twenty-five steps. Bubba made an end run around them and fell in behind Colleen, where he picked up her lace train.<br />
<br />
They marched through the dining area where caterers and witches bustled about laying out a spread of food that smelled delicious, into a large, luxurious room that took up much of the bottom floor of the old Victorian. At one point, they’d talked about having the ceremony outside, but the weather put the kibosh on that idea. Roz wondered why they’d wasted their breath even considering an out-of-doors event. It was the winter solstice in Seattle. She bet there’d never been one when it wasn’t raining like crazy—or snowing.<br />
<br />
Chairs lined the wood-paneled great room, and a fire burned merrily in a huge stone fireplace that took up one end of the sumptuous space. Old-fashioned chandeliers were festooned with hundreds of blazing candles. Witches sat on one side of a center aisle, Daoine Sidhe on the other. Roz guessed between three and four hundred people were in attendance—more Sidhe than witches. Everyone turned in their seats to stare at Colleen, and a collective aaaaah surged through the room.<br />
<br />
Roz clamped down on a grin. Colleen really did make a lovely bride, with her Irish complexion and red tresses. The creamy lace dress was perfect. White would have made her look washed out. Titania strode around all of them and took her place at the head of the room. Roz noted with amusement that Naomi held her ground when Titania tried to push her to one side.<br />
<br />
Before she and Jenna left Colleen to find their seats, her gaze landed on Duncan—Lord Regis—and her heart nearly stopped. All Sidhe had an ethereal beauty, but Duncan practically glowed. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a crimson cummerbund and diamond studs, he cut an impressive figure with his high forehead, sculpted cheekbones, and strong jaw. Longish blond hair had been braided in tight rows, but the severe style suited him and make him look like an ancient warrior.<br />
<br />
Roz averted her gaze, afraid he’d catch her staring, but he only had eyes for his bride. She said a quick prayer asking the goddess’s blessing on their union and turned toward the witches’ side of the room.<br />
<br />
Because Ronin came up from her other side, she didn’t notice the Sidhe leader until he wove an arm around her shoulders. “I saved you a chair next to me.”<br />
<br />
Her heart slammed into double-time rhythm. She’d met Ronin two weeks before at his castle in northern England, and they’d shared several spirited conversations over meals. Something magical and electric had sparked between them, but she’d chalked it up to everyone’s emotions running full tilt. She’d just escaped demons by the skin of her teeth, and he was dealing with shame or guilt—or whatever he felt—about forcing witches into being demon assassins two centuries before. While his attentiveness had been welcome—and more than a little flattering—she’d been more focused on her relief at being alive than anything else. Besides, after the Oklahoman, she’d sworn off men—forever.<br />
<br />
Ronin smiled, not looking anything but glad to see her, and her heart did a funny little flip-flop, in addition to beating much too fast. Dark hair hung loose to his shoulders, and his blue eyes twinkled warmly. Every bit as handsome as Duncan, he was dressed in formal clothing, black with a blue cummerbund, and what might have been ruby studs.<br />
<br />
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to sit over there.” She gestured in the general direction of the witches’ side of the room.<br />
<br />
“No one will notice,” he assured her and hooked his hand beneath her arm.<br />
<br />
Roz didn’t fully understand why she let him guide her to a padded straight-backed chair near the front of the room and help her into it, but there was something irresistible about his energy. Too late, she recognized a mild compulsion spell. Anger spiked, but now wasn’t the place to give in to it. With every shred of self-discipline at her disposal, she forced her attention to Duncan and Colleen reciting their vows, and to Naomi, who’d muscled her way in before Titania could get rolling.<br />
<br />
When Ronin draped an arm around her shoulders, she shot him a harsh look that made him move it damned fast. Good, she thought. It’s about time the Sidhe realize their days of pushing witches around are over. Yes, he was gorgeous, and he seemed interested in her, but the last thing she needed was some overbearing mage mucking things up. She still wasn’t quite certain how Colleen’s marriage to Duncan would impact her and Jenna. They’d always been kind of like The Three Musketeers, demon style. The permanent addition of a Sidhe was bound to have some effect. Exactly what was hard to gauge.<br />
<br />
Who am I kidding? We didn’t just get Duncan. We’re stuck with his kinfolk now too. All of them.<br />
<br />
She bit back a sigh. If the series of meetings a couple of weeks before in the U.K. was any indication, she, Jenna, and Colleen would have to fight to be recognized as anything remotely close to equal.<br />
<br />
Roz snuck a glance at Ronin. He sat straight in his seat, his profile heartbreakingly beautiful. His long-fingered hands were clasped together in his lap. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what they’d feel like stroking her body. Warm. Electric. Compelling.<br />
<br />
Maybe I should give him a chance, a tiny, inner voice piped up.<br />
<br />
Bosh.<br />
<br />
Roz tried for a stern note, but the other part of her brain wouldn’t shut up.<br />
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<b>Witches Rule Demon Assassins</b><br />
<b>Book 3</b><br />
<b>Ann Gimpel</b><br />
<br />
Dream Shadow Press<br />
68K words<br />
<br />
Release Date: 9/26/16<br />
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance </div>
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Urban Fantasy Romance with a heaping side of Hexes, Spells, and Magick!</div>
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<b><br />Book Description:</b><br />
<br />
Jenna’s a special witch, sort of, when her magic works, which it often doesn’t. One of three remaining demon assassins, she and her sister witches, Roz and Colleen, are Earth’s only hedge against being overrun by Hell’s minions. On the heels of Roz’s and Colleen’s weddings, Jenna is headed for the U.K. when a demon confronts her. Any other witch could teleport out of the plane, but not her.<br />
<br />
Frustration about her limited power eats at her. It would be pathetic to get killed for lack of skills a teenager could master.<br />
<br />
Tristan is a Sidhe warrior, but his primary gift is attunement to others’ emotions. He fell hard for Jenna, but hasn’t had an opportunity to act on their attraction beyond a few kisses because she returned to Alaska, and he’s been in the field fighting demons.<br />
<br />
As seer for the Sidhe, Kiernan is haunted by visions, particularly an apocalyptic sending that seems to be coming true. A confirmed bachelor, he doesn’t understand his attraction to Jenna, but it’s so strong he can’t fight it. After a while, he doesn’t even try, despite recognizing Tristan’s claim to her.<br />
<br />Startling truths surface about Jenna’s magic, and then there’s the problem that she’s falling in love with two very different men. At first she believes she has to pick one of them, but her spirit refuses to walk away from either. It’s impossible to choose between a seer with dreams in his eyes and a beautiful man who intuits her every need. Standing on the verge of Earth’s destruction, will she defy convention and follow the song in her heart?<br /><br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from Witches Rule: </span></b><br />
<br />
Jenna Neil sank heavily onto her airplane seat and kicked off her high heels, shoving them beneath the seat in front of her. With a small sigh of relief, she rotated her ankles to take the pressure off her aching arches. She’d always loved heels—the higher the better—and insisted on wearing them, never mind they definitely lacked a comfort factor. Once she’d shot past six feet, she figured it didn’t matter if she added a few inches to her already overbearing height.<br />
<br />
A flight attendant leaned over to hand her a pillow and blanket. Jenna tucked the pillow behind her head as she listened to the safety briefing and estimates of their arrival time in London.<br />
<br />
She closed her eyes, but it didn’t ease how tired and gritty they felt, and smoothed her too-short denim skirt down her thighs. A red wool sweater and matching denim jacket finished off her outfit. She’d been so excited about getting out of Alaska and away from the layers she was forced to wear through the winter, she’d probably underdressed for the current jaunt. Less trendy clothes were tucked in her checked luggage, but they weren’t exactly accessible.<br />
<br />
The last few days hadn’t offered much opportunity for rest. She, Colleen Kelly-Regis, and Roxanne Lantry-Redstone—Roz to everyone who knew her well—were the last of the demon assassin witches. Having escaped Irichna demons by a ridiculously narrow margin—again—the three of them were on their way to the U.K. where they could do it all over again.<br />
<br />
Jenna grinned ruefully. Demons running amok through the British countryside had thrown witches and the Daoine Sidhe together after two hundred years of enmity. It had also netted impossibly hunky husbands for her sister witches, but that was beside the point. Staying alive was a much more front and center problem.<br />
<br />
Because Irichna demons had become so much more aggressive, everyone but her thought it would be best to travel separately. She hadn’t agreed, but she’d been the one dissenting vote. As far as Jenna was concerned, there was always strength in numbers, but the others were convinced their current strategy would confuse the demons long enough for everyone to regroup on the eastern side of the Atlantic. Colleen and Roz were teleporting with their husbands. Niall, Colleen’s Irish changeling familiar, was making his own way back home along with two Scottish changelings, Llyr and Krae. Jenna had never been much good at teleporting, so she’d opted to fly commercial. It would place her arrival at least twelve hours after everyone else, but she could live with that. At least the first leg of her journey, from Fairbanks to Seattle, and thence to New York, had been uneventful.<br />
<br />
Thinking about Irichna made her shiver, so she unfolded her blanket and draped it around her shoulders. Demons didn’t get much worse than Irichna. As Abbadon’s chosen henchmen, they played for keeps, and Abbadon was the biggest and baddest of Hell’s denizens, so nothing was off limits. Demon assassin witches had been a craw in his throat for a long time, and lately he’d upped the ante to get rid of them—permanently.<br />
<br />
Them means me, and I’d do well not to forget that.<br />
<br />
Jenna blew out a weary breath. One of her not-so-distant ancestors had been forced into demon containment two hundred years ago by the Sidhe, breaking every rule that bound magic-wielders, but the Sidhe hadn’t cared. In the intervening years, demons had managed to kill every single witch with demon-assassin ability—except for her, Roz, and Colleen. The Sidhe were primed to take back some responsibility for ferrying Irichna to the Ninth Circle of Hell where the gatekeeper locked them away, but that hadn’t exactly happened yet.<br />
<br />
She gritted her teeth and unclenched hands she’d balled into fists around the edge of the thin airline blanket. The aircraft backed out of its slip and headed for one of the many runways at JFK Airport. While it would be lovely to have help with the demons, working with the Sidhe held its own set of problems. For one thing, most of them were insufferably autocratic, which was how Jenna’s great-grandmother had ended up being suckered into picking up the demon banner in the first place.<br />
<br />
Even though Titania, Queen of Faerie, appeared marginally tolerant of Colleen’s and Roz’s marriages to Sidhe now, she’d given Duncan quite a bit of grief over his proposed marriage to Colleen at the front end of things. By the time Ronin, the de facto Sidhe leader, made it clear he’d set his sights on Roz, Titania had backed down a few notches, probably because they were beset by Irichna.<br />
<br />
Jenna thinned her lips into a hard line. Hundreds of years before, Ronin’s human partner had died in childbirth, and the child along with her. Apparently, both the Queen and King of Faerie made it clear Ronin had sunk himself by choosing to marry someone outside his race. In the face of their indifference, Ronin had carried his grief alone.<br />
<br />
It’s just like it is with humans. Everybody’s got to have somebody to look down on…<br />
<br />
Jenna tamped back a cynical grin. The Sidhe had made strides accepting other races, but they had a way to go before they moved beyond their intolerant past.<br />
<br />
Jenna pictured her friends’ husbands, and a small sigh escaped. Like all the Daoine Sidhe, Duncan Regis and Ronin Redstone were heartbreakingly stunning. Duncan’s blond good looks and green eyes provided a counterpart for Ronin’s dark hair and deep blue gaze. When Jenna scratched the surface and did a little soul-searching, she had to admit she’d never expected to find a permanent partner. Girls like her—well rounded and obscenely tall—weren’t exactly in demand. Colleen was beautiful with her waist length auburn hair and pale blue eyes, and Roz was unusual and striking. Her Native American heritage and long, lean frame turned heads whenever she passed by.<br />
<br />
Guess I’m the odd witch out these days…<br />
<br />
Jenna pressed her lips together. It remained to be seen how her friends’ marriages would impact their lives. Some things would have to change because she couldn’t quite envision Duncan and Ronin simply moving in to her Fairbanks, Alaska, home along with their new wives. For one thing, all the Sidhe maintained amazing abodes in the U.K. Places that resembled castles more than houses.<br />
<br />
Jenna reined in her thoughts. There were a lot of unknowns, but the main problem would be surviving the next few weeks. Once they got the Irichna on the run—if that were even possible—then she could figure out more prosaic things, like if she’d be the only one still living in Fairbanks and running their magicians’ supply shop. Before the thought even finished forming, she knew that arrangement wouldn’t work. She, Roz, and Colleen had to stay together, and if the others insisted on remaining in the U.K., well then she wouldn’t have much choice in the matter. If she returned to Alaska by herself, she’d be a sitting duck for Irichna to swoop down and overpower her.<br />
<br />
She shivered again and considered asking for a second blanket.<br />
<br />
In an attempt to divert herself and maybe unwind, though it seemed unlikely, Jenna started to push her seat back and then remembered she wasn’t supposed to quite yet. The plane’s engines were revving, but they hadn’t left the ground. She heard the captain instruct the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for takeoff and tried to relax in her plush first-class seat. If the goddess was good to her, maybe she’d catch a few hours of sleep before the plane landed.<br />
<br />
A flurry of supernatural energy caught the edges of her attention, and Jenna’s gut twisted into a sour knot. She sat up straight and craned her neck to scan the cabin, defensive magic at the ready. Her eyes widened in disbelief as Krae’s unmistakable form shimmered into being, and the changeling bounded into the empty seat next to Jenna. Her long, bright red hair hung loose, and her eyes shone like emeralds. Krae’s stocky body was draped in wide-bottomed green silk pants and an embroidered black tunic. As was usual with changelings, her feet were bare. The creatures drew their power from the earth, and Jenna assumed they didn’t want layers of leather or rubber or neoprene between themselves and their magical well. With their three-foot height, broad shoulders, and longish arms, they looked like a missing link between humans and the great apes.<br />
<br />
“What are you doing here?” Jenna kept her voice low.<br />
<br />
“Don’t worry,” Krae replied, not exactly answering Jenna’s question. “No one can see me except you.”<br />
<br />
“Where are Niall and Llyr?”<br />
<br />
“Niall joined Colleen and Duncan, and Llyr is with Roz and Ronin.”<br />
<br />
Of course, why didn’t I think of that?<br />
<br />
Jenna cleared her throat. “Why did you make different plans?”<br />
<br />
Krae cocked her head to one side and crinkled her gnome-like face, making her look even more outlandish. “We discussed it and decided you might need help.” A corner of her mouth curved into a frown. “Personally, I thought it was a bit overdrawn, but Niall was most insistent about remaining with Colleen.”<br />
<br />
“Can he join her teleport spell after it’s already set in motion?” Jenna was curious, but if Krae could teleport into this aircraft, maybe the other two could tap into a spell she’d always considered sacrosanct.<br />
<br />
“Not directly, but he communicated with Colleen telepathically, and she altered her destination to pick him up. Llyr did the same with Roz and Ronin.” Krae dusted her palms together and grinned. “Nothing easier.” The changeling swept her agate-green gaze around the first-class cabin. “When will they feed us?”<br />
<br />
“As soon as we pass through ten thousand feet, which won’t be long since we just took off.” Jenna paused for a beat. “If you weren’t thrilled about the plans to get to the U.K., why didn’t you speak up back in Alaska?”<br />
<br />
“We did. No one listened to us. Roz and Ronin were so wrapped up in lust and pawing at each other, all they wanted to do was get to his manor house as fast as they could.”<br />
<br />
“Well, they did just get married,” Jenna pointed out in defense of her friend. “And I don’t recall anyone but me voicing concerns about splitting up to travel.”<br />
<br />
“That’s because you weren’t paying attention, either. Look, sweetie, if the Irichna win, no one will be tupping anyone.” Despite being much shorter than Jenna, the changeling managed to send a withering glance her way.<br />
<br />
“Point taken.” Jenna shot an equally scathing glance back. “Next time, if you feel strongly about something and no one’s paying attention, talk louder.”<br />
<br />
“Rehashing the past is a waste of time.” Krae bounced up and down in her seat. Jenna considered telling her to fasten her seatbelt, but if no one could see her, there wasn’t much point. “Be sure to take everything they offer foodwise,” the changeling instructed. “I’m hungry.”<br />
<br />
“Shouldn’t be a problem since I’m not.” Jenna lapsed into silence.<br />
<br />
“Why so glum, witchy girl?” Krae trained her ancient eyes, which probably didn’t miss a trick, on Jenna.<br />
<br />
“Oh, no particular reason.” Jenna stifled a snort and rolled her eyes. “I find facing death several times a day downright exhilarating.”<br />
<br />
A bell sounded, and the fasten seat belt icon winked out. Moments later, the first-class cabin flight attendant leaned close. “Are you all right?”<br />
<br />
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jenna snapped and then winced at how surly she sounded.<br />
<br />
“I heard you talking and thought maybe you needed something.” The flight attendant smiled encouragingly. Airlines had moved past using Barbie clones long since, and this woman was middle-aged with streaks of gray in her dark, shoulder-length hair, the beginnings of wrinkles around her blue eyes, and a kind expression.<br />
<br />
“Food,” Krae prodded, not bothering with telepathic speech.<br />
<br />
“Thanks for being concerned.” Jenna managed a genuine smile for the cabin attendant. “I am hungry, so snacks would be appreciated whenever you get around to serving.”<br />
<br />
“Of course.” The woman smiled back. “I’m Suzanne.” She tapped the nametag hanging around her neck. “Just press your call button if you need anything. Other than that, relax and enjoy your flight.”<br />
<br />
“You could’ve been a bit more assertive about our dinner,” Krae complained.<br />
<br />
“I’m guessing they can’t hear you, either.” Jenna switched to telepathic speech.<br />
<br />
“Of course they can’t.” Krae blew out an annoyed-sounding breath. “Look, witchy-girl, draw a spot of magic and shield your speech. That way no one will bother us, and we can talk.”<br />
<br />
Feeling like an idiot because she hadn’t come up with the idea herself, Jenna drew the requisite spell before she spoke again. “I was actually hoping to sleep.”<br />
<br />
“You can do that after we eat and talk.”<br />
<br />
Jenna turned to face the changeling and raised a quizzical brow. “This is starting to sound bigger than you. Whose idea was it for the three of you to split up, and for you to join me?”<br />
<br />
Krae’s generous mouth twitched into a grin, and she jabbed a finger in the air between them. “Smart witch.”<br />
<br />
“You didn’t exactly answer me.”<br />
<br />
“No. I didn’t.”<br />
<br />
Jenna pressed her tongue against her teeth to manage her annoyance. The last thing she needed was a rousing game of twenty questions, so she trained what she hoped was a non-confrontational gaze on Krae and shrugged. “We have seven hours, feel free to take your time.”<br />
<br />
The changeling’s green eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re burning up with curiosity. I can smell it.”<br />
<br />
Jenna didn’t bother to point out she was so trashed from the past few weeks that she doubted she had enough energy to burn up with anything. Suzanne handed her a bottle of water and a tray with an assortment of appetizers. The flight attendant had no sooner moved on to the next passenger than Krae bent over the tray and dug in.<br />
<br />
The changeling looked up after inhaling half the finger sandwiches and most of the nuts. “Sure you don’t want any of this?”<br />
<br />
“Help yourself.” Jenna adjusted her seat so it tilted backward, twisted the cap off the water, and drank deeply.<br />
<br />
“Beer, wine, or a cocktail, miss?” a masculine voice asked.<br />
<br />
Jenna glanced up at a cabin attendant she hadn’t seen before. He was tall and rangy with very blue eyes, white-blond hair, and a gold band on the third finger of his left hand. She swallowed a smile. With looks like his, he might have begun wearing the ring in self-defense, to slow the tide of women throwing themselves at his feet. He arched a brow and gestured toward the drink cart.<br />
<br />
“Um, maybe a cup of coffee with a side of Irish whiskey.”<br />
<br />
“Excellent choice.” He beamed at her, displaying very white, very even teeth. He may have winked, but she wasn’t quite certain. “Would you care for cream or sugar?”<br />
<br />
“Both.”<br />
<br />
Once he handed her drink over, she uncapped the small bottle of spirits and dumped a little into her cup. She’d traveled through so many time zones already, it scarcely mattered whether it was evening yet, and the liquor might have a salutary effect. The steward’s gaze traveled up her body in frank appraisal before he moved to the passenger across the aisle. Jenna’s face warmed a few degrees. What the hell? Was he sizing her up for a quickie in one of the plane’s johns?<br />
<br />
Krae twisted her head and stared at the man. The air glistened wetly where the changeling deployed magic. She wasn’t particularly subtle, and the man’s spine stiffened, but he didn’t turn around.<br />
<br />
“He felt that.” Jenna pitched her mind voice just for Krae and shielded it to boot.<br />
<br />
“Indeed he did.” Krae narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what he is?” Jenna shook her head. “Pity,” the changeling went on, “neither do I.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to send more magic his way,” Jenna murmured. “As it is, what you did tipped him off. How did you know something was wrong?”<br />
<br />
“How else?” Krae shrugged. “I almost missed it, but something…odd drew my attention when he looked at you. If he’d been human, his gaze would have held more heat. Instead there was an…unnatural hunger.” She hesitated. “More like he was relieved he’d found you rather than wanting sex.”<br />
<br />
A shudder iced Jenna’s blood. Unlike Roz and Colleen, she couldn’t simply teleport off the airplane. Her heartbeat sped up. “Maybe you should leave,” she told Krae. “No point in both of us being trapped.”<br />
<br />
“Uh-uh. We hold our ground for now. It’s possible his presence has nothing to do with you.”<br />
<br />
“Not very fucking likely.”<br />
<br />
Krae picked up another small sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth. Jenna snuck a peek at the steward just in time to see him disappear through the curtain separating first class from the remainder of the aircraft. Because she was desperate for information, she sent a tendril of magic snaking outward and yanked it back as soon as she determined the man wasn’t an Irichna disguised as human. Duncan had run up against one masquerading as a priest near the Witches’ Northwest Coven headquarters in Seattle. It had lured two female teenagers and would have drained them of life if Duncan hadn’t intervened. As it was, he wasn’t certain either had survived because he’d left them at a hospital and hadn’t hung around long enough to find out.<br />
<br />
Jenna ran options through her mind, not liking any of them. She didn’t want to end up in a pitched battle inside the aircraft. Hell, they’d probably lock her away as a terrorist the minute the plane landed, and Irichna would pick her off from her cell.<br />
<br />
“I was serious,” Krae’s out loud voice intruded. “There’s at least a small possibility he’s simply some sort of mage. He might have gotten a magical hit off your aura and was curious.”<br />
<br />
“What did you want to talk about earlier?” Jenna changed the subject because she could speculate about the mystery steward from now until he made a move against her, and it wouldn’t change the outcome, other than making her more aware to watch out for him.<br />
<br />
“How much do you know about my race?” Krae countered, answering Jenna by asking a question of her own.<br />
<br />
“Mostly what I’ve gleaned from living with Niall for forty years. Why?”<br />
<br />
Krae popped the last sandwich into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “We’ve always known we would have a key role to play in major battles against the Irichna. It’s written in our histories, and we’ve prepared as best we could.”<br />
<br />
Jenna drew her brows together. “Niall never mentioned it.”<br />
<br />
“It’s quite possible he didn’t know. We’ve done our damnedest to keep that particular bit of knowledge quiet, so the Irichna wouldn’t target us before the time came to play our part. Not that we didn’t inform our people—and try to coach them—but Niall’s been gone for a good many years.”<br />
<br />
Jenna rolled her shoulders to offset the iron bar of tension sitting between them. “You sound like a preacher threatening the latter days are nearly upon us.”<br />
<br />
“They are.” Krae’s expression turned deadly serious.<br />
<br />
“More whiskey, miss?”<br />
<br />
Jenna started at the sound of the steward’s voice. He’d returned to the cabin so quietly, she hadn’t heard him. “Um, no.” She resisted the temptation to look at him. It would give her more information, but that was a two-way street.<br />
<br />
“As you will, miss.” He pushed the drink cart past her. It made quite a bit of noise, which led her to suspect he’d used magic to muffle his presence earlier.<br />
<br />
How long had he studied her without her knowing?<br />
<br />
Why hadn’t Krae sensed him?<br />
<br />
Worse, he’d apparently made his way back to the front of the plane, pushed the rattling cart past her, and served other passengers without alerting her to his presence. Not good. Jenna shielded her mind—just in case—and clamped her jaws together when he sashayed into the curtained galley alcove between first class and the cockpit. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, and her throat was dry. It was looking like she’d need to do something, but what would attract the least attention?<br />
<br />
Krae uttered a muted expletive in Gaelic, bolted from her seat, and whisked after the steward. Jenna stared after the changeling with her mouth hanging open. She pushed upright, remembered her seatbelt, and fumbled with the clasp. By the time she was free of it, a flash of multicolored light practically blinded her, flaring above, below, and through the curtain. Heedless of the other first class passengers, who couldn’t sense expended magic anyway, she threw her power wide open.<br />
<br />
Jenna didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it whistled from between her clenched teeth. She drew her lips back, hissing in satisfaction once she realized the blast of power had come from Krae, not the man. Balancing on the balls of her stocking-clad feet, Jenna strode forward and pushed past the curtain.<br />
<br />
The steward was shaking his head back and forth, his face screwed into a mask of pain. Power flashed from the changeling’s hands. “No more,” he rasped, tottering from foot to foot. “I won’t hurt either of you.”<br />
<br />
Jenna dragged an invisibility spell over all of them, layered a don’t look here spell over that, and prayed to the goddess no one would enter the small, enclosed space for the next few minutes.<br />
<br />
“What are you?” She shoved the question hard into his mind.<br />
<br />
“I already figured that out,” Krae said sourly. “He’s a minor demon sent to keep an eye on you and report back.”<br />
<br />
“I already told you I hadn’t,” he whined. “And I won’t. You can bind me with magic.”<br />
<br />
“That’s not good enough,” Jenna growled. “Demons lie.”<br />
<br />
“So do changelings and witches.” He shot her a venomous look that belied his promises of non-interference.<br />
<br />
“We’re wasting time,” Krae said and settled into a low chant.<br />
<br />
A look of horror twisted the steward’s handsome face into something unrecognizable. He tried to walk past them but clearly couldn’t move. The air thickened, took on a blackish tinge, and stank of ozone just before smoke rose from the creature and he vanished.<br />
<br />
Jenna drew back, impressed. Whatever Krae had done was magic well beyond her own abilities. Footsteps sounded on the far side of the curtain. Suzanne. Jenna recognized her energy and ducked into a passenger restroom. If Krae was powerful enough to banish the demon, shielding herself from the flight attendant should prove trivial. Kicking herself for being sloppy, Jenna pulled the magic from her spells to make the cramped galley appear as normal as possible.<br />
<br />
“Paul,” Suzanne’s voice was pitched low, “your drink cart’s here. Where are you?”<br />
<br />
Jenna flushed the toilet and splashed cold water on her overheated face. She took her time drying off and settled her features into a bland expression before stepping out of the john. With a nod and a smile at Suzanne, she pushed the curtain aside and returned to her seat. Krae was already there, doing her best to mask a self-satisfied grin.<br />
<br />
“Okay, I give up.” Jenna eyed the changeling. “What did you do?”<br />
<br />
“Teleported him outside the plane. Nature took care of the rest.”<br />
<br />
Jenna thought about it. “While it’s good he’s gone, how will we know he didn’t report in somehow?”<br />
<br />
“We won’t,” Krae said shortly. “Which means we’ll have to be very careful not to lead the enemy right to wherever we’re staying after we land.”<br />
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<b>About the Author:</b><br />
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Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients, now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality. When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with her camera. She’s published over 30 books to date, with several more planned for 2016 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and wolf hybrids round out her family.<br />
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Website Link: <a href="http://www.anngimpel.com/">www.anngimpel.com</a><br />
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Blog Link: <a href="http://anngimpel.blogspot.com/">http://anngimpel.blogspot.com</a><br />
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Amazon Page Link: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel">http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel</a><br />
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Facebook Page Link: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author">http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author</a><br />
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Twitter: @AnnGimpel (for Twitter)<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-12019181020629290072016-11-03T05:30:00.000-04:002016-11-03T05:30:19.214-04:00Roger A. Price<br />
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<i><span class="s1">Today's feature is Nemesis by </span>Roger A. Price </i></div>
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<br /><span style="font-size: large;">A REVIEW by J.D. Jones Amazon UK ...</span><br /><br />‘This is the first book by Roger A Price that I have read and it certainly will not be the last. I was gripped from the first few pages and read more at every opportunity with the result that I had completed the book within a couple of days. Having lived and worked in Preston, Lancashire for 60+ years and over the past 8 years been a frequent visitor to Gretna, Dumfriesshire, I enjoyed the way the author describes both places in this novel - he has clearly done his research. There are so many thrillers/action novels about that there are bound to be similarities in the plots, and the twists and turns, and having become an avid reader since my retirement, I fully expected that this would be the case with 'Nemesis'. However, I found the 'story-line' to be very different to the dozens of others I have read and it kept me guessing until the very end - not as to who the guilty person was (we know that from the start) but rather who will be the next victim and how (and IF) this ruthless villain will be caught. Will he or won't he? You will have to read this book to find out.<br /> <br /><i>‘With regards the 'stars' awarded I use a standard approach based on awarding one star for a 'yes' to each of the following questions: 1. Did I enjoy the story? 2. Did it hold my attention throughout? 3. Did I get to know the characters and care what happened to them? 4. Was I sorry that the story finished - did I want to read more? and 5. Would I buy another book from this author? The answer to each of those is 'yes', consequently this book gets my 5 stars.’</i><br />
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<span class="s1">Nemesis</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Roger A. Price</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Main Genre – Thriller, </span>Crime, Mystery</div>
<br />Print Length: 271 pages<br />Publisher: Endeavour Press<br />Publication Date: August 11, 2016<br />Language: English<br />ASIN: B01KA8SYLS<br /><br /><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The body count is rising… </span><br /> <br />When psychopath Daniel Moxley makes his escape while being escorted to Broadmoor high security prison, he sets off on a trail of bloody revenge, leaving police forces throughout the north of England floundering in his wake.<div>
<br />Moxley’s paranoia has him seemingly selecting victims at random. </div>
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<br />The only thing they have in common is the gruesome nature of their killings. </div>
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<br />Police, prison warders and even old ladies have been the target of Moxley’s cold-blooded murder spree. </div>
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<br />When Detective Inspector Vinnie Palmer is assigned to the case, Moxley decides that he too must die, but not before he has led him from one blood-soaked scene to another. </div>
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<br />Among his victims is Vinnie’s offsider, Detective Constable Rob Hill, who he discovers has his own dark and destructive secret that rips Vinnie’s life apart. </div>
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<br />With the help of Moxley’s psychiatrist, Vinnie delves deep into the man’s criminal past and uncovers a history of corrupt police, sexual coercion and gaol brutality. </div>
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<br />But when Vinnie closes in on Moxley and takes the law into his own hands, he ends up suspended and stripped of his police powers. </div>
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<br />Determined not to let Moxley escape justice, Vinnie continues his pursuit of the maniac as a private citizen. </div>
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<br />He teams up with determined television reporter Christine Jones and together they pursue Moxley north to Scotland and back again. </div>
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<br />But the killer always seems to be one step ahead, leaving a trail mutilated bodies in his wake. <br />Lured on by Moxley’s taunts, Vinnie discovers that it is his own wife – a fellow police worker – who has been an unwitting aid in Moxley’s deadly deeds. </div>
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<br />As a result, his suspension is lifted in time for him and Christine to gain full police support and finally confront Moxley in a terrifying final encounter. But is it too late?<br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter One </span><br /><br />Drip, drip, drip. The rhythmic beat of blood trickling on to the ground from the torso’s right hip mesmerised Daniel Moxley. He counted the seconds it took each drop to travel from the man’s waist to the concrete floor. Then he looked up and followed the blood-flow across the naked back to the left shoulder where the meat hook suspended the man at an unnatural angle. Curious, he watched each pulsated blood run. Some travelled around the man’s scapula, and some across it, as each line strived to follow gravity’s path. <br /><br />As the pool on the floor grew larger, it never ceased to amaze Moxley how far a little blood could go. Though in this case, the amount of blood was more than a little. The man let out a semi-conscious moan, which broke his reverie. This angered Moxley, it interrupted his enjoyment. He rose from his chair and walked around the man to face him. <br /><br />“Not long now, I should think,” said Moxley, as he noticed the man’s pallor was much greyer than the last time he’d looked. He glanced at his watch, 2 pm, that had been half an hour ago, though it had seemed only like minutes. “Has the pain eased? You’re quieter now.” <br /><br />“Numb,” the man said, spitting the word out in a pant that appeared laboured. <br /><br />“I told you it would. Now, say the word again.” <br /><br />“Sorry,” the man mumbled. <br /><br />Moxley liked to think of his guest as ‘The Man’. It dehumanised him in his mind. Referring to him by name or, worse, by his title would give him back his standing. ‘My Man’ was even better for it denoted some kind of ownership by Moxley and further empowered him. The thought aroused him slightly. He ignored it, no time for such pleasantries. <br /><br />Taking his mind off himself, he looked around the disused building, long since stripped of anything of value. Even though it was warm outside, all the windows were broken and a cool draught whistled through. It reminded him of railway station platforms; always cold. He considered spinning The Man around again. He knew any screams couldn’t be heard. Half would be silenced by the wind and the remainder would have too far to travel to find anyone. He decided to wait and ask The Man again. <br /><br />“Have you worked out what you’re sorry for now?” he asked in a singsong way. <br /><br />“Look,” His Man said, speaking in short bursts, “I’ve been good to you over the years … always looked out for you ... got to know your other side.” <br /><br />“I know all that, which is why you’ve only been here a few hours. If you was that other screw, then I’d be keeping you here for days.” <br /><br />“Danny, look … Bill and I were only doing our jobs.” <br /><br />“You forget I got to see your report. It’s amazing what money can buy. I was happy at Strangeways; you of all people knew that.” <br /><br />“I know,” His Man said. He paused before he continued. <br /><br />Moxley sensed he was getting weaker. <br /><br />“But you have to believe me; we had no option but to agree … after all, it was the doctors who approved your move.” <br /><br />Moxley knew this was true, he’d been shown the final report. But he still felt hugely let down by His Man, Tim Knowles. He shook the name from his mind. “Being moved was bad enough; but declared insane, I mean there’re having a laugh. Do you think I’m mad?” <br /><br />“No, no of course not,” His Man answered. “Please, let me go, I can’t take much more … I’ve told you I’m sorry … and I truly am.” <br /><br />At that very moment, Moxley was sure His Man was telling him the truth, which was why he decided to end his suffering. He’d made His Man pay his ‘fine’, time to go. “Okay,” he said, before going for his chair, an old office one he’d found lying in the rubble, which had proved very handy. He pulled it to the back of the man and looked up at the rafter exposed through the broken ceiling, from where the meat hook was tethered. He’d fastened the hook to the beam with rope, but it would be easy to cut through. His Man would drop about two feet to the concrete floor, which wasn’t far he thought.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">About the Author:</span><br /><br />Roger A. Price was born in Bury, raised in Whitley Bay, and has lived in Lancashire since he was thirteen. Currently living in Preston, Roger served for over thirty-one years with the Lancashire Constabulary, the Regional Crime Squad and the National Crime Squad.<br /><br />He retired in the rank of detective inspector in charge of a covert unit in Lancashire, which received local and national acclaim for its successes in engaging those who openly sold Class A drugs, such as heroin and crack cocaine.<br /><br />Prior to this he led the C.I.D. in Preston for a short while and before that was in charge of a dedicated informant unit. Previous experiences include work on many murder investigations and other serious crimes, as well as time spent on drug squads.<br /><br />He has served around the region, country, and overseas. His work on the National Crime Squad took him across Europe and to the Far East. He has been commended on four occasions.<br /><br />He now writes fiction based in-part on his experiences, and in-part from his fevered imagination. He now writes full time.<div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Get it here:</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Nemesis-Roger-Price-ebook/dp/B01KA8SYLS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1472036212&sr=8-1&keywords=nemesis+by+roger+a+price">Amazon US</a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Nemesis-Roger-Price-ebook/dp/B01KA8SYLS/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Amazon UK</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.rogerapriceauthor.com/">My Website</a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/CrimethillersbyRogerAPrice/">Facebook</a> <br /><br /><a href="https://twitter.com/RAPriceAuthor">Twitter </a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7203081.Roger_A_Price">Goodreads</a><br /><br /><a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/+RogerAPriceAuthor">Google+ </a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/roger-a-price-20581b47?trk=nav_responsive_tab_profile">LinkedIn</a><br /><br /><a href="https://uk.pinterest.com/rogeraprice37/">Pinterest</a><br /><div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-58624550375246794682016-11-01T05:30:00.000-04:002016-11-01T05:30:21.144-04:00Susannah Sandlin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Black Diamond<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wilds of the Bayou Series<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Book Two<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Susannah Sandlin<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Genre: Romantic Suspense<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Publisher: Montlake Romance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Date of Publication: October 18, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ISBN: 978-1503940413<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ASIN: B01F1Z6818<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Number of pages: 266<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Word Count: approx. 80,000<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cover Artist: Michael Rehder<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: cyan; font-size: large;">Book Description:</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For some people, the untamed beauty of the bayou is a place to hide. For Louisiana wildlife agent Jena Sinclair, it’s a place of refuge—one where she can almost forget the tragedy that scarred both her skin and her soul. But when the remains of yet another fisherman turn up, Jena realizes that Bayou Pointe-aux-Chenes is not safe for her…or anyone else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The mysterious deaths aren’t her only problem. A dangerous drug known as Black Diamond is circulating through Terrebonne Parish, turning addicts into unpredictable sociopaths. Jena’s investigation leads her to Cole Ryan—a handsome, wary recluse struggling with his own troubled history—who knows more than he’s willing to admit. If they want to stop the killer, Jena and Cole must step out of the shadows of their pasts and learn to help each other…before the evils lurking in the bayou consume them both.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Black-Diamond-Wilds-Susannah-Sandlin/dp/1503940411/">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-diamond-susannah-sandlin/1123838487?ean=9781503940413">BN</a> <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Black-Diamond-Susannah-Sandlin/9781503940413?ref=grid-view">Book Depository</a> <a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Black-Diamond/Susannah-Sandlin/9781503940413?id=6723521429684">Books-a-Million</a> <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781503940413">Indie Bound</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Cole stood inside the door, knowing she’d be there any second. She would knock, probably with a firm rap to remind him who had the authority here, and it wasn’t him. She would expect to come inside, and while he could deny her entrance without a warrant, he wouldn’t. It would raise too much suspicion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His fists clenched and unclenched. Again. Again. The press and release of tension filtered out some of the stiffness from his arms and shoulders. The woman was striking, her wistful expression had resonated with him, and he had wanted to look at her. He’d looked long and hard enough that she’d caught him standing in the doorway like an idiot. Otherwise, he could’ve pretended to be gone and not answered his door. Now, hiding wasn’t an option.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The last thing he needed in his life was a woman. Especially a woman with a badge and a gun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Though expected, the sharp knock made his shoulders jerk upward, and his fingers clenched again into fists. Weapons his body provided to protect itself, to protect him, to keep everyone away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sir, I know you’re in there. I’m Agent Sinclair of Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries.” Her voice was clear and no-nonsense. He tried to place her accent—she wasn’t from Terrebonne Parish but didn’t have a typical Southern accent either. “I want to talk to you about the gator in front of your neighbor Doris’s house. It’ll only take a minute or two.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Damn. Now that he knew his neighbor’s real name, the Wicked Witch was dead. Now she was Doris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He took a deep breath, turned, and opened the door an inch. Maybe two inches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A hazel eye, heavy on the green, and the bill of a dark-green baseball cap came into view, peering through the crack. A strand of hair that trailed over her forehead from beneath the cap shone like pure molten fire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You can open it all the way, you know. I don’t bite. I’d like to come inside for a few minutes and talk, or you can come out on the porch. Having a conversation isn’t optional, but where we have it is. For now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Damn it. Cole had to admit he was stuck and it was his own damned fault for standing in the doorway and watching her for so long. He opened the door wide, dread giving way to curiosity when he finally saw her face up close. She was beautiful but lightly scarred, more on her cheeks than her forehead, so she’d probably been hit by flying glass rather than having her head go through a windshield. Fairly recent too. The spots were still pink, but they were scars and not wounds. Five or six months old, he’d say. Eventually, they’d fade and, with her fair skin, would easily cover with makeup. If she hadn’t been so close—not to mention his fixation on her face—he wouldn’t have noticed them even now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Are you going to let me come inside, or are you coming outside, or do I need to make it an official order?”</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: cyan; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">About the Author:</span></b></div>
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Suzanne Johnson writing as Susannah Sandlin is the author of the award-winning Penton Vampire Legacy paranormal romance series, including the 2013 Holt Medallion Award-winning Absolution and Omega and Allegiance, which were nominated for the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice Award in 2014 and 2015, respectively. She also wrote The Collectors romantic suspense duology, including Lovely, Dark, and Deep, 2015 Holt Medallion winner and 2015 Booksellers Best Award winner. Her new suspense series Wilds of the Bayou started in 2016 with the release of Wild Man’s Curse and continues with Black Diamond. Johnson is the author of the award-winning Sentinels of New Orleans urban fantasy series. A displaced New Orleanian, she currently lives in Auburn, Alabama. Susannah loves SEC football, fried gator on a stick, all things Cajun, and redneck reality TV. <br /><br /><br />Web: <a href="http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com/">http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com</a><br /><br />Blog: <a href="http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com/blog">http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com/blog</a><br /><br />Newsletter: <a href="http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com/newsletter">http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com/newsletter</a><br /><br />Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSuzanneJohnson/">https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSuzanneJohnson/</a><br /><br />Twitter: @Suzanne_Johnson <a href="https://twitter.com/Suzanne_Johnson">https://twitter.com/Suzanne_Johnson</a><br /><br />Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/Susannah_Sandlin">http://www.goodreads.com/Susannah_Sandlin</a><br /><br />Pinterest: <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/sj3523/">https://www.pinterest.com/sj3523/</a><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-34638287746470552572016-10-27T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-27T05:30:05.495-04:00Dana Wayne <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-size: large;"><i>Presenting the highly recommended Secrets of the Heart ...</i></span></div>
<br /><br /><i>“One of the most endearing books I have read lately, one to reread over and over again and highly recommended.” Marichus Real<br /><br />“This book had it all, humor, suspense, love…made it impossible to put down!” Amanda P.<br /><br />“Her writing is absolutely wonderful and the story very realistic and entertaining.” Nancy F.<br /><br />“I fell in love with Tori and Wade…they are officially my favorite characters…this book captivates you from the beginning.” Leigh Ann<br /><br />“I took this book on vacation for my beach reading and finished it halfway there…I definitely recommend this story for lovers of romance.” Abookanight</i><br />
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Secrets of the Heart<br />
Dana Wayne<br /><br />Print Length: 246 pages<div>
<br />Publisher: BookBaby; 1 edition (June 21, 2016)<br />Publication Date: June 21, 2016<br />Language: English<br />ASIN: B01GEYJNG2<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-size: large;"><b>Description:</b></span><br /><br />Emotionally scarred by personal tragedy, Tori Morgan needs to get away from Houston and figure out what to do with her life. Seeking refuge and time to think, she accepts a position at a remote ranch in Montana. Firmly convinced love happens once in a lifetime, she resigns herself to being alone. <br /><br />Her new boss is the first complication in her plan. Mesmerized by his voice on the phone, she arrives at their first meeting with a mixture of anticipation and dread. <br /><br />And rightfully so. Six feet four inches of man capped off with a potent sexuality that makes clear thinking difficult, Wade McBride wreaks havoc on her emotions from the start. To make matters worse, she discovers she must pretend to be his fiancée for the sake of her new patient. <br /><br />Wade needed a nurse for his mother but got more than he bargained for in Tori. She was a breath of fresh air in world full of crap. Pretending to be in love with her seemed like a good idea at the time. <br /><br />The plan started out easy enough, even as they try to ignore the instant, heady desire percolating between them, unware of danger watching from the shadows. <br /><br />The test kiss changes everything. <br /><br />Once was not enough for Wade. Every inch of him craved more. But it isn’t real, it’s pretend. Right? <br /><br />Tori is convinced his mouth should be registered as a lethal weapon. His kisses are electric, his voice seductive. Her body begs for his touch…but is she ready for this? Will she ever be ready? <br /><br />They dance around the elephant in the room until they have to face the facts…what happens when make believe becomes real?<div class="p1">
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Secrets-Heart-Dana-Wayne/dp/1483571726/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1475163939&sr=8-1&keywords=dana+wayne">Get it on Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<br /><span style="color: #fff2cc; font-size: large;"><b>Excerpt</b> </span><br /><br />Tori glanced at the outstretched hand and reached for her purse. She didn’t bother to glance at the photo as she passed it over; didn’t need to. Her mind’s eye provided a vivid picture. Wind-blown ebony hair, streaks of grey at the temples. Strong, defined cheekbones anchored by heavy brows. Sky blue eyes framed by killer lashes. And his mouth. Oh God. What was it about his mouth that intrigued her so? <br /><br />Full lips parted in a sexy smile that lit up his face and made her breath catch. She gave herself a mental shake and tried to focus on the task at hand. “His sister sent it. He’s the one on the left. The other one is his late brother, Isaac.” <br /><br />“Holy-moly girlfriend! No wonder you can’t wait to go. Talk about your tall, dark and handsome. He’s what…six feet at least; bedroom eyes if ever I saw ‘em, come hither smile…daaa-yum! I bet he’s got a killer ass, too.” <br /><br />“Sassy!” Tori reached for the picture but her friend moved away, still studying it. <br /><br />“What did you say his name is?” <br /><br />“Wade McBride.” <br /><br />“Well, Mr. Wade McBride, you are one delicious lookin’ cowboy.” She made a show of fanning herself with the picture. “And I’d be on ‘at puppy like mornin’ glory on a fencepost.” <br /><br />Her face grew warm and she shook her head. Sasha had a one track mind of late and did her best to get Tori on the same track. <br /><br />“Damn. Damn. Damn!” She handed the picture back. “Sure you don’t want me to come along? You’re a bit out of practice you know, and he may be more than you can handle alone.” <br /><br />“It’s nothing like that and you know it. It’s a job.” <br /><br />“Yeah, well, it should be.” She rummaged through the contents of a dresser drawer and tossed a filmy nightgown at Tori. “Better take this along. Winter or not you’ll want it ‘fore this is over.” <br /><br />“Good grief! Is sex all you think about?” She tossed the garment back to her and pulled out a pair of sweat pants. <br /><br />“Hell yeah when I see a Timex man.” <br /><br />Tori ducked her head and sighed. “I know I will regret this, but…a Timex man?” <br /><br />Sasha giggled. “Think a can of RediWhip topping, some chocolate syrup…a strategically placed cherry.” She paused for effect. “And see if ‘at cowboy can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.” <br /><br />Her face flamed as an image of McBride lathered in whipped topping and chocolate syrup formed. “Oh my God, Sasha! Where on earth do you come up with this stuff?” She extended her arm, palm up. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” <br /><br />“Trust me…one day you’ll thank me.” <br /><br />“No. I won’t. Besides, he has a lot on his plate with his sister and mother both ill and the ranch. He needs a nurse, not a lover.” <br /><br />“Says who?” <br /><br />“Sassy, please.” <br /><br />“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you were too good for Eddie.” She waved her hand back and forth to silence Tori’s rebuke. “I know, I know, it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead. He was a good cop, a decent father, but a crummy, cheating husband.” <br /><br />Tori sat on the edge of the bed and said nothing as her friend continued. “You’ve got the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.” Sassy joined her on the bed, her smile reflective. ”I guess that explains why you put up with me all these years. And you have a capacity for caring I truly envy. It’s why you are such an awesome nurse. Well, that and the reasonably intelligent thing.” <br /><br />Tori snorted. Sassy would never change. Thank God. <br /><br />“I know you loved Eddie. I never understood why, but I know you did. But he’s gone, Tori. You need to let him go and love again.” <br /><br />“I…I don’t know if I can. Every time I think about moving on, of getting involved with someone, I feel guilty. Like I’m…betraying him. I know it sounds silly to you but its how I feel.” <br /><br />Sasha slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I don’t think it sounds silly at all. He was your husband and you loved him. But he’s gone.” She blew out a breath. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. I want you to be happy. I want to see your eyes smile again.” <br /><br />“I know you do. And I appreciate that.” She leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m not interested in a relationship right now.” She sighed. “I don’t think I even remember how to kiss anymore so a relationship is out of the question.”<div>
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<br /><span style="color: #fff2cc; font-size: large;">About the Author:</span><br /><br />A sixth generation Texan (or seventh, depending on which relative you ask), Dana Wayne lives still in the Piney Woods of East Texas with her husband of 38 years (and counting) and a Calico cat named Katie. Her three children and four grandchildren keep her life exciting. Free time is spent with family or tent camping on a lake somewhere. A voracious reader, she knew from a young age she would one day be an author. She has written numerous poems, shorts stories, and newspaper articles as well as contributing to numerous writing group anthologies. Retiring in 2013, she focused on her first love, writing novels. Her debut novel, Secrets of the Heart, a contemporary romance, released this summer is available on all major outlets. </div>
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She can be reached via her website, <a href="http://www.danawayne.com/">www.danawayne.com</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/danawayne423/">Facebook</a> </div>
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<b>And you can buy it here:</b></div>
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<a href="https://store.bookbaby.com/book/Secrets-of-the-Heart">BookBaby Publishing</a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Secrets-Heart-Dana-Wayne/dp/1483571726/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1475163939&sr=8-1&keywords=dana+wayne">Amazon</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/secrets-of-the-heart-dana-wayne/1123862218?ean=9781483571720">Barnes & Noble</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Secrets-Heart/Dana-Wayne/9781483571720?id=6751642155204">BookAMillion</a> </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-5068427971849441022016-10-25T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-25T05:30:00.853-04:00Rayna Noire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Initiation</b><span class="s1"></span></div>
<b>Pagan Eyes <br />Book 1<br />Rayna Noire</b><br /><br />Genre: Paranormal Time Travel YA/NA <br />Publisher: Sleeping Dragon<br /><br />ISBN: 978-0615915807<br />ISBN: 0615915809<br /><br />Number of pages: 208 <br />Word Count: 68,528<br />Cover Artist: Dawne Dominique<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><b><span style="color: #f9cb9c; font-size: large;">Book Description: </span></b><br /><br />Being a teen witch is no sitcom with canned laugh tracks. It's especially hard when your crush's family is old school burn the witches at the stake type. <br /><br />Leah decides not to mention her membership in the black hat society if it will score her points with Dylan. If only life was that easy. <br /><br />Best friend Stella pulls her in to a tolerance project that tests Leah's beliefs by sending her hurtling through time where people really do burn witches. If that isn't enough, everyone back in times old and smelly recognize her as the local mean girl.<br /><br />Fast thinking, luck, and whole lot of magick might get her out of her current dilemma; then again, it might not. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Pagan-Eyes-Initiation-Rayna-Noire/dp/0615915809">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pagan-eyes-rayna-noire/1117913290">BN</a> <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/427977">Smashwords</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Pagan-Eyes-Initiation-Rayna-Noire/dp/0615915809">Amazon UK</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/pagan-eyes-initiation/id860615438">iTunes</a></span><div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Grandmother Always Knows by Rayna Noire</span></span></div>
<br />Luna rattled the ice in her cocktail while she squinted at the wall clock. The long hand had only made it to the four. Seriously, only twenty minutes had passed. The Halloween party was the brainchild of her employer’s wife.<br /><br />As a witch, she wasn’t into Halloween parties with the cheesy costumes and heavy drinking. Nope, she spent the season in contemplation or possibly divination. When the veil between the two worlds was the thinnest, her deceased grandmother spoke to her. She could have sworn Nana told her she’d meet her soul mate soon. Her granny also warned her that things weren’t as they seemed.<br /><br />Calvin from HR weaved around the people to reach her. Normally, she liked the man, but his drunken leer announced his current state.<br /><br />“Hey Luna, why don’t the two of us go outside and look at the stars?”<br /><br />Her immediate response was to brush him off, but despite his soaked state he might remember her rudeness. “It won’t work. Too much light pollution to see anything.”<br /><br />The man blinked owlishly at her, making her wonder if he understood anything she had said. Luna put up a hand. “Oh, it’s my girlfriend. I need to talk to her. Pardon.” She strolled away, questioning if Calvin could be her soul mate. She shook her head. Couldn’t be.<br /><br />There were several unfamiliar faces in the crowded great room. At least no one was wearing costumes. She should be grateful for that since people dressing up as witches irritated her. Not sure if evil witch or sexy witch annoyed her more, since both were stereotypes.<br /><br />A gorgeous man nodded at her and smiled. Well, well, the night suddenly looked promising. The people parted enough to reveal more of the tall, handsome…. priest. The former promising man was the final straw. Time to go home and see if she could reach Nana since she must have misunderstood the message. It could have been what she had wanted to hear as opposed to what she needed to hear.<br /><br />Luna pivoted and made a beeline for the door. <br /><br />“Stop, wait.”<br /><br />She threw a backward glance over her shoulder, noticing the priest heading her way. She blinked. Obviously, the clergy was more aggressive these days. He was going to either ask her when she last attended mass or ask if she had any sins to confess. <br /><br />Luna managed to slip outside where she could see her namesake, the moon. The door slammed, revealing the priest had followed her.<br /><br />“Hey,” she held up her hands, “Not interested. Witch here.” Usually, that line scared most away, except the very drunk.<br /><br />An amused expression crossed the man’s face as he strolled closer. “Glad to hear it. I’m not a priest.” He held out his hand. A silver pentacle ring on his pinkie glimmered in the dim light. <br /><br />Luna took his hand. He wrapped his fingers around her palm and held on. An energy flowed between them, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She knew this man; at least her soul recognized him. “That’s a relief.”<br /><br />He lifted an eyebrow. “My name’s Rowan and yours is Luna.”<br /><br />“How did you know?” Perhaps he could read minds.<br /><br />“Ah, well, I think my brother, your boss, set us up. He knew I hadn’t much luck finding a nice Pagan woman.”<br /><br />“The costume?”<br /><br />Rowan laughed, then winked. “My brother can be a bit of a practical joker, but he has a good heart.”<br /><br />Grandmother knew all along.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">About the Author: </span></b></div>
</b><br />Rayna Noire is an author and a historian. The desire to uncover the truth behind the original fear of witches led her to the surprising discovery that people believed in magick in some form up to 150 years ago. A world that believed the impossible could happen and often did must have been amazing. With this in mind, Ms. Noire taps into this dimension, shapes it into stories about Pagan families who really aren’t that different from most people. They do go on the occasional adventures and magick happens.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorRaynaNoire">www.facebook.com/AuthorRaynaNoire</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.twitter.com/raynanoire">www.twitter.com/raynanoire</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.raynanoire.weebly.com/">www.raynanoire.weebly.com</a><br /><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/3EiPyWu7nYA">https://youtu.be/3EiPyWu7nYA</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-7909273366651200282016-10-20T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-20T05:30:00.261-04:00Lawrence J. Potesta<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;"> Mr. Lawrence Potesta brings to life a story of challenges, war </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">and romance in his novel Paris to Saigon</span></i></div>
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Paris to Saigon Kindle Edition<br />
by Lawrence Potesta<br />
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Genre: Historical Fiction </div>
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Print Length: 191 pages</div>
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Publisher: La Maison Publishing, Inc.; First edition (July 17, 2016)<br />
Publication Date: July 17, 2016<br />
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC<br />
Language: English<br />
ASIN: B01IO7FVBS<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amazon.com/Paris-Saigon-Lawrence-Potesta-ebook/dp/B01IO7FVBS?ie=UTF8&keywords=paris%20to%20Saigon&qid=1468950147&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1">Amazon </a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">Book Description:</span></div>
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<i>COMING OF AGE WAR NOVEL ~~</i><br />
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It’s 1966 and Mickey Van escapes the jungles of Vietnam for a cushy post in Germany. While traveling, making deals and courting ladies through all of Western Europe – James, Mickey’s best friend, is black, alone, afraid and not so lucky as he fights for his life and sanity in the daily terror of the Hell known as Rice and Dice Land.<br />
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Dealing with the anguishes and challenges of both Romance and War, the mix will satisfy the reading thirsts of both genre enthusiasts. Liaisons with a General’s daughter in Paris, an Oxford educated brothel Madam in Stuttgart and finally an angel of mercy Army nurse in Vietnam, all find our lead character’s life of Love, Lust and Guilt blended Cuisinart style and it all makes for an intriguing Historical Coming of Age Novel.<br />
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The letters that the two soldiers share are horrifying, bloody and brutal as well as life preserving and morale boosting. Following a long and treacherous battle fighting the North Vietnamese, James is cut down by friendly fire and sent home to his sobbing Mother in a flag draped coffin along with thousands of other sacrificial lambs.<br />
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Mickey Van, suffering from survivor’s guilt, trades his sexual escapades in Paris, Germany, Italy and Amsterdam for likely death as a Medevac Helicopter Pilot in the country that took James’ life. These choppers bearing giant red crosses taxi maimed and bleeding soldiers screaming for their gods and mothers to healing hands providing that they might someday see their grandchildren.<br />
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<b>Letter from Cecilia Powell (Chicago) to Michael Van Degna (Stuttgart, West Germany)</b> <br />
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<b><u>March 25, 1968 </u></b><br />
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Dearest Michael – It is with tears on this paper and an aching heart that I have to tell you that James was killed by friendly fire on March 8 in Xo Dong My, Vietnam just weeks before he was to rotate back to the states and home to me. My beautiful, strong, loving son has gone to his Maker and out of my life forever. This letter will be short because it hurts far too much to think about my boy laying in pain and bleeding without me. A Mother’s heart never heals from this type of tragedy and I don’t know what I will do without my only son.<br />
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I realize that you and James were best friends even after you went your separate ways in this Army thing. He wrote of you often and said that you truly were the brother that I was never able to give him. He told me that your letters were the only things that kept him going in the Hell that finally took him from me.<br />
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Your last letters were forwarded to me along with his personal belongings. I have sent the letters to you unopened.<br />
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I must close now. I’m sure that you will understand<br />
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Thank you for being such a good friend and brother to my James.<br />
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Sincerely, Cecilia Powell<br />
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My name is Michael Van Degna AKA Mickey Van. It was 1963 and at Northern Illinois University that I met James Powell, the first black I ever shook hands with. We met in the pool hall of the student union. It was a large room full of red and green felt tables smelling of chalk and powder. </div>
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After three semesters of poker games, hustling pool, wooing the ladies, cutting classes and failing exams James and I decided it was time to face the reality of war and headed to the local Army recruiter’s office. Marines were a death sentence, James couldn’t stand the thought of wearing Navy bellbottoms, we didn’t know what the hell the Air Force did so the Army was the choice of the whim. Sergeant Happyday greeted us with open arms and assured us that we would get the best survival training available, money for re-entry to the World and College, a house for future wives and toddlers and the satisfaction of knowing that we would be protecting our country from the threat of Communism. Of course none of this was even on our radar but it all sounded good except the Communism bullshit. That went out the door with Joe McCarthy. Oddly enough no mention of desk jobs in California. We knew we were being duped but had little choice except to cut and run to Canada.<br />
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We had “career” choices of course. I calculated and chose the Military Police thinking I would have some sort of control and James signed up to be evaluated for Special Forces.His research assured that these boys received excellent combat training which postponed having to cross the pond for close to a year following basic training. This was a self-preservation decision for James. We both thought that our strategy would keep us alive on our trips to Da Wherever. It was 1966 and both the Sun and the North Vietnamese were keeping our boys roasting on a red hot spit.<br />
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Four women, four different experiences: Paula for partying and wild sex, Trudy for business and uninhibited sex, Suzanne for comfort and making love and now Regan for understanding and a platonic love. This was 1968, however, and in the era of “Free Love” platonic love was considered to be an oxymoron. Regan gently reached for my hand and we stood in silence for what seemed like hours.<br />
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I had never and didn’t want to start killing people. Trusting in a God that I was finding as a first time ally, I counted on this to be a sound risk. I hesitated to get others’ opinions becauseon the surface it seemed to be a reckless solution. When thinking about it though, I realized thatI had made many reckless decisions in my confessed life so why not for the turnaround.</div>
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<span class="s3">When I honestly reviewed those sins that I had confessed, I saw service to my fellow soldiers as an exit plan from that “superior prick” image that I had been looking at in the mirror.</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/review/RZF84PNCYCB3V/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B01IO7FVBS&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=283155&store=books" style="font-size: x-large;">Read A 5-Star Review of From Paris to Saigon</a></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">About The Author</span></div>
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After a career in Marketing and Radio, Lawrence Potesta settled in the Land of “Let-It-Be” and unexplained U-Turns on the Baja Peninsula of Mexico. Using his forty years of experience, he’s now a writer and proudly presents his first published work of a trilogy dealing with the life’s journey of Mickey Van . Lawrence has owned and operated his own Restaurant and Restaurant Franchise business, owned and operated a sales training company and most recently had a 17 year nationwide marketing consulting firm for commercial and healthcare insurance brokers.<br />
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<h3 class="m_3521084765270162219m_3088797202163234404gmail-r" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-61148502342496596282016-10-18T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-18T05:30:36.909-04:00Krista Carlson<br />
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<i><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Featuring author Krista M. Carlson's Gryphon's Passing ...</span></i></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Gryphon’s Passing<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Krista M. Carlson</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2">Genre: Supernatural fiction<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s2">Date of Publication: March 23, 2015</span></div>
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<span class="s2">ISBN-10: 1505848148; </span></div>
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<span class="s2">ISBN-13: 978-1505848144</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Number of pages: 270</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Word Count: 79,553</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Cover Artist: Krista M. Carlson</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Book Description: </span></b><br />
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When her older half-brother unexpectedly commits suicide, Crystal is devastated. <br />
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The only thing she thinks will take away the pain is understanding why he did it. What she doesn't know is the danger her search will create for her family when she dabbles in magick and calls something forth from the grave that wasn't what she intended. <br />
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If she can learn how to control and subdue the supernatural, she may find the answers she seeks. If not, the thing that led her brother to commit suicide is going to continue picking off her family members one by one. <br />
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Fortunately for Crystal, her brother left behind a friend who may be willing to give her some much-needed guidance.<br />
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<a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Gryphons-Passing-Krista-M-Carlson/dp/1505848148/">Amazon</a><br />
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<b style="color: orange; font-size: x-large;">The Growl </b></div>
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The clock inside struck midnight as she watched the waning moon through the trees. It had been a long week, trying to fit in at work, trying to be proper in such a stuffy world where she didn't belong. She had been to her breaking point these last few months, feeling her world crumbling around her until she had begun to believe it was karma. She had started to think she deserved it for betraying her family to seek a soulmate. She had known what she was doing was wrong when she did it, but she had wanted more. Now, she thought she was paying for it as she saw her career ending and contemplated moving by herself to another town to try to start over. Karma was catching up with her and it wasn't going to give her any peace. <br />
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Sighing, she rose from her spot on the lawn and went inside to put some shoes on. She needed to clear her head, needed the cool comfort of the forest. She changed into jeans and then pulled on a pair of boots. There were thorn bushes in the forest where she was headed, among other things. She grabbed a flashlight and pulled the door shut behind her, slipping into the dark as silently as a cat. <br />
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She knew the path well enough in the daylight, but her feet were the only ones who took it, so the ground was undisturbed, the branches of the trees unbroken, and the progress slow. She made her way through the backyard, down the hill, over a mossy tree and around what almost looked like a stone pathway. The stones were natural limestone and flat, and the line of them, pale green against the darker green earth of the forest was what had drawn her to the stream and the ancient oaks the first time. <br />
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As she neared the stream, she slipped her boots off and sat them on the last of the stones. Where she wanted to go could only be reached by walking in the stream. She rolled her jeans up as far as she could and stepped into the water. It was the first of October and she gasped at the chill of the water as she stepped in. It served to clear her mind and bring her in touch with the present though. It was hard to think of anything but the icy sting of the water in the stream. <br />
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She made her way upstream, squishing her toes in the mud on the bottom and avoiding the more rocky areas where she might cut her feet on the stones. She came then to a shallow place in the water where there was a clearing in the woods. She stepped out onto the mossy bank, and looked up through the branches of the oak and ash trees at the moon winking in the night sky. One Oak tree stood in the center of the clearing, larger than the rest. Its brethren flanked it in an impressive warrior formation. Those trees thrummed with power that she could feel like a heartbeat, standing on top of their roots with her own bare feet. <br />
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She stood, head bowed, hand on the tree's trunk, clearing her mind and soaking up the energy in the clearing. As she did, she felt herself growing stronger. She felt her heartbeat grow strong and regular. Doubts faded, and the headache she had felt for the last week relaxed as she let the tension leave her muscles for the first time in as many days. She breathed in the night air and breathed in power. <br />
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She heard a twig snap very near her before she heard the low growl only feet away and to her left. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach clenched as she realized she was not alone. She hoped that it was not hungry. Then she heard another low growl to her right, and another behind her. <br />
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She almost panicked, almost made a run for the stream, before she heard the tree laugh. "What are you afraid of?" It asked. "You too are a creature of the night and you are twice the monster they are." She laughed then and patted a thank you in answer against the tree's bark. <br />
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"I am." She said. "I am a monster," she shouted at the shadowy figures. "And you are nothing but dogs. I am more monster than you will ever be because I was once human." She added with a growl. They stared each other down, she daring them to come forward and take her. She wanted them to do it. She wanted to savagely rip them apart, starting with their jaws. Perhaps sensing her pent-up rage and frustration, and her desire to fight to the death, they bowed their knee to her before they slunk back into the night.<br />
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<b><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;"><br />About the Author: </span></b><br />
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Krista Carlson was born in South Dakota, in 1980, to a farmer and a librarian. She grew up in Ord, Nebraska with an older brother, and they were homeschooled, which meant that they spent a great deal of their time riding horses, swimming in the river and anything else they could think of to avoid studying. She did rather enjoy books though, especially literature and history, and so, after having her first son a young age, she began to pursue her education seriously. By the time she was seventeen, she was married with two sons and had a year of college behind her. She later graduated summa cum laude with a Bachelor's Degree in History and then went on to graduate from law school with distinction in 2008. Upon graduation, she became a civil defense attorney with a firm in Lincoln, Nebraska. While studying History at the University of Nebraska at Kearney, she began to explore her interest in magick and spent the traditional year and a day with a local Wiccan coven. This interest prompted her to write her debut novel, Gryphon's Passing, which was released in March of 2015. <br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Krista-Carlson-1517807331842121/">https://www.facebook.com/Krista-Carlson-1517807331842121/</a><br />
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<span style="color: orange; font-size: large;"><i>Tour giveaway Signed copy of Gryphon’s Passing by Krista M. Carlson and a necklace with a quartz crystal</i></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-54096001979847770052016-10-14T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-14T05:30:19.074-04:00Halloween Party<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1321889231185264/"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSsyz7z7Fa3CwlqRUjGCVDEX5HxdLTIy3amtB4E64BxhTIzgrEWGfxQKliaS3WJbd4M8htBfRNy8DNiE1Tqmf4vGsEqszgEomd1gjkNKqQm_V_WGjPQYWuF8aeuA_TGsjGGQ_vH8a9rEl3/s400/Haunted-Halloween-Spooktacular-FB-Party-Banner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Join us for Halloween fun and games at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1321889231185264/">Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Facebook Party</a> October 19 and 20.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Enter to win tons of prizes. Invite all your friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1321889231185264/">https://www.facebook.com/events/1321889231185264/</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be prepared to show off your Halloween and cosplay costumes for the Costume Contest and enter your pumpkin creations for the Pumpkin Carving Contest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We have over 20 authors participating, they'll be here to discuss their love of Halloween, talk about their books and offer fun and games to all who drop by.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You have to participate to win, so come by often.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here's the author schedule, times are listed in EST</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wednesday October 19th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">10-11am Ash Krafton</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">11am-12pm Sam Baltrusis</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">12-1pm Natalie Nicole Bates</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1-2pm Catherine Winters</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2-3pm Jill Archer</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3-4pm Krista Carlson</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4-5pm Laura Diamond</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">5-6pm Jennifer Windrow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">6-7pm Kelex</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7-8pm BA Tortuga</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">8-9pm Constance Burris</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">9-10pm Jamie K. Schmidt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">10-11pm Lexxie Couper</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">11pm-12am Vanta Black</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thursday October 20th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">10-11am Erzabet Bishop</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">11am-12pm Sam Crescent</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">12-1pm Roxanne Rhoads</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1-2pm Lily Harlem</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2-3pm Marcella Burnard</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3-4pm Traci Douglass</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4-5pm Catherine Stine</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">5-6pm Rayna Noire</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">6-7pm ND Jones</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7-8pm Kirsten Weiss</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">8-9pm Marsha A. Moore</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">9-10pm Julia Talbot</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">10-11pm Angelique Voisen</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">11pm-12am JC Andrijeski</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18.4px;"><br /></span></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 18.4px;">Halloween in New Orleans, where anything can happen including love and magick.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Eternal Desire</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Desire Series</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Book One</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Roxanne Rhoads</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Publisher: Bewitching Books </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Release Date: April 14, 2015 (2 edition)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ASIN: B00VWIQGFM</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Book Description:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Paranormal researcher Liz Beth's dreams are haunted by a sensual vampire.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She arrives in New Orleans the week of Halloween in search of her elusive dream lover, but instead finds a handsome stranger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They begin a passionate affair. Soon she is torn between dreams and reality, lost somewhere in the middle trying to regain reason.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She aches to find the vampire of her dreams but can't seem to break free of the spell her sexy stranger has her tangled in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Eternal Desire is available at the following ebook retailers</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Eternal-Desire-Roxanne-Rhoads-ebook/dp/B00VWIQGFM" target="_blank">Amazon</a> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id983863521" target="_blank">iTunes</a> </span><a href="https://www.scribd.com/book/261314349/Eternal-Desire" target="_blank">Scribd</a> <a href="http://www.inktera.com/store/title/7a150916-3ae5-49a6-a71b-cd7def657f6d" target="_blank">Inktera</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/eternal-desire-2" target="_blank">Kobo </a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/eternal-desire-roxanne-rhoads/1111508400?ean=2940152218374&itm=1&usri=2940152218374" target="_blank">Nook</a> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Haunting Desire</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Desire Series</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Book Two</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Roxanne Rhoads</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Genre: Paranormal Erotica</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Publisher: Bewitching Books</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Release Date: February 5, 2016</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: center;">Book Description:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Welcome to the Inn of Amorous Apparitions where your every libidinous longing can be fulfilled by sensual spirits.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i> LizBeth has been hired to use her ghost whispering skills on the specters at the Castle Inn, but instead of banishing the seductive spooks Barbara, the Inn Keeper, wants them to "come out and play" with her special guests.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Castle Inn is set to become the destination for the ghost sex fetish crowd. But first LizBeth has to convince the voluptuous visions that it is alright to participate in spectrophilia fun with the guests.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">LizBeth has a special talent for seeing and communicating with ghosts but these enchanting ethereals are not cooperating with her, or her vampire boyfriend. Something odd is fueling the raunchy wraiths and they have to discover the power source or risk leaving a customer unsatisfied.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There’s more to this haunting than the average ghost. Will LizBeth be able uncover the mystery of this sexy haunted mansion?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Haunting-Desire-Roxanne-Rhoads-ebook/dp/B019VU4AJG/">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/haunting-desire-roxanne-rhoads/1123177831">BN</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/py/book/haunting-desire/id1071004756?l=en&mt=11">iTunes</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/haunting-desire-2">Kobo</a> <a href="http://www.inktera.com/store/title/2403cdea-8731-4f96-a091-3bb92f37b19f">Inkterra</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Sale for .99 Each</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Get 20 Stories for less than $2 when you buy both books- each collection contains ten super sexy paranormal erotic romance short stories</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Roxanne-Rhoads/e/B002FQ5566/"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">http://www.amazon.com/Roxanne-Rhoads/e/B002FQ5566/</span></a></div>
photo Roxanne Rhoads Owner/Book Publicist, Bewitching Book Tours Email: RoxanneRhoads@bewitchingbooktours.com Website: http://www.bewitchingbooktours.com<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-26114268901923518912016-10-13T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-13T05:30:04.115-04:00Richard HerrToday we are featuring Richard Herr's Dog & Pony. Read the excerpt and decide for yourself and if the excerpt isn't making you want to read it maybe the ridiculously low price of $2.99 will help make your decision.<br />
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<i>"Harry is the main protagonist and C E O of a Dog and Pony industrial presentation business as run in the world of onstage marketing and says:" The industry is so crazy. I have even housed dogs and ponies in my offices. The good news: dogs were house broken; the bad: ponies weren't "</i> - Scarlett J.<br />
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<h1 class="a-size-large a-spacing-none" id="title" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.3 !important; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do</span></span><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">g & Pony: Volume I - Aloha</span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Richard Herr</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Genre: Humor and Satire, General Humor, Fiction</span></div>
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Print Length: 397 pages<br />
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Publisher: Prankish Publications; 1 edition (February 6, 2014)<br />
Publication Date: February 6, 2014<br />
ASIN: B00IAPW9QA<br />
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;">Description</span></div>
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Harry Chatham’s company puts on corporate presentations, otherwise known as Dog & Pony shows*. When he hires a Traffic Manager to make his work easier, he finds the opposite happening. His new employee displays extraordinary skills and perceptions that drag Harry into realms he didn't know existed.<br />
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Harry is thrust into plots to take over both this world and another that was previously invisible to him. His life becomes mixed up with CIA plots, corporate counter plots, strange evil mages, lovely green-eyed young ladies, and numerous otherworldly beings, both pastoral and predatory.</div>
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Dog & Pony follows Harry on a comic romp through fantastic perils as he tries vainly to return to his life to the way it was before the strangely-named Traffic Manager joined his company. Fortunately for the reader of this series, he never seems to escape the Trouble he's found himself in.<br />
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*Dog & Pony Show - A term that evolved in early 20th century America. Traveling presentations, advertised as full-fledged circuses, would turn up with only a trained dog and pony. The present-day meaning describes any presentation that delivers more flash than substance, containing meager truth.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/2dJKAgQ">Get it today on Amazon</a></span><span id="goog_1133157469"></span><span id="goog_1133157470"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-large;">Excerpt</span><br />
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“Harry, we quit,” Laura proclaimed.<br />
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Oh crap!<br />
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I looked around the table to see if she spoke for all of those assembled. They had the same look as when I'd last seen them yesterday. Only drier. The hysteria in the pit of my stomach leaped up. My life was getting complicated.<br />
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Again.<br />
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“Laura, darling,” I pleaded, “what's wrong?”<br />
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“Harry, we had a small village as our union crew yesterday. They never got the notice about the crew size.” Laura attacked the subject. “I had the requisition all set and in the outbox weeks ago.”<br />
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“Laura, these are Broadway stage hands! They never listen to anyone.” I supplied a lame excuse.<br />
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“I specifically put those color choices into the server to be e-mailed to the scene shop,” Joel said. “They claim they never got them.” He pouted down into his latte, which he ordered from one particular coffee house.<br />
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“You probably got their e-mail address wrong,” I stated.<br />
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“Harry, I was replying to their e-mail,” Joel said.<br />
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“You know, I never trusted that new version of Windows!” I pounded my fist down on the table.<br />
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“Harry, our version of Windows is so old, it's written in Latin,” Laura stated.<br />
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“And that's why Rome collapsed!” I launched another lame excuse.<br />
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“Aw, man, none of the stuff is working,” Sidney said. “The only reason why the set piece wasn't thrown out of the theater was because the thing arrived too damned late for anyone to check for the flame-proofing certificate.”<br />
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“You see, it helped us to be late on delivery,” I said. I had a whole herd of lame excuses limping around the room.<br />
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“Harry,” Laura reached over and grabbed me on the arm with both hands. She was starting to get angry, and I didn't want that. She leaned forward and brought a searchlight-like stare boring into my eyes. “We've already got a whole lot of clients who are misinforming us; we can't misinform ourselves. You've got to fix things.”<br />
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A siren wailed down below in the street, a normal sound in New York. Its clarion call confirmed that I had an emergency exploding around me and needed to get on this problem, fast. As owner and operator of a small business, my unofficial but actual job title is: President and Janitor. I was reverting to the latter and listening to what my bosses had to tell me. “What's the fix?” I asked.<br />
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“You've got to get one of those things for this office,” Laura stated firmly.<br />
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“One of those things?” I probed.<br />
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“Yes.”<br />
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“What things?”<br />
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“You know,” she said, waving her hand around vaguely. “What are they called? Oh yeah, a Traffic Manager.” She implied the initial capitals in her tone of voice. Like all of us in the biz, she had a PowerPoint Title Case accent.<br />
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“A Traffic Manager?” I'd heard about such things, but had never met one in the flesh.<br />
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“Yes.”<br />
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“You want to add someone to the staff? But we've always been a group,” I protested. “The Fab Four. We can't mess with our chemistry.”<br />
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“Harry, we're the Frustrated Four, right now,” Laura said.<br />
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“We're the Frantic Four, trying to catch up,” Joel complained.<br />
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“We're the Fucked-up Four, with all this confusion,” Sidney pointed out.<br />
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Laura bore her gaze into me. “Harry, a Traffic Manager.”<br />
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“You bet!” I enthused. “I'll get right on it.” I paused and looked around at the faces surrounding me. “By the way, what does a Traffic Manager do?”<br />
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“Circulates all of these messages to the right people on the network,” Joel announced.<br />
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“Gets the jobs flowing smoothly through the office,” Laura proclaimed.<br />
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“Gets all the gear trucking to the right place at the right time,” Sidney pronounced.<br />
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I stared at them. When you have people ready to quit, you don't tell them they just gave you three different answers. “Is that what a Traffic Manager does?”<br />
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“Yes!” they affirmed together.<br />
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I smiled and nodded. The faces in front of me were quite resolved. I decisively slammed my hand down on the table. “I'll get right on it.”<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/review/RMQ4BB0MGV4K1/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00IAPW9QA&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=133140011&store=digital-text"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Read this 5-star review by Hugh Kinnett</span></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: large;">About the Author</span></b></div>
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Richard Herr has had a varied career as actor, comedian, musician, stage manager, computer graphics expert, and stager of Dog & Pony shows, otherwise known as corporate presentations. Stemming from this eclectic background, he has recently turned his attention to writing comic fantasy novels. He has had three books published by Prankish Publications: Invasion From Fred, Dog & Pony (Vol I), andTales from the StarBoard Café. He lives in New Jersey (which apparently offers asylum for lame jokes) and has two daughters and five grandchildren.<br />
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SmashWords: <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rherr">https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rherr</a><br />
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Barnes & Noble: <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Richard+Herr?_requestid=453111">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Richard+Herr?_requestid=453111</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-38189308261955670762016-10-11T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-11T05:30:09.547-04:00Sam Baltrusis<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Today we are featuring Haunted Boston Harbor </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>by Sam Baltrusis</i></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Haunted Boston Harbor</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Haunted America </b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Sam Baltrusis</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2">Genre: Ghosts and hauntings, Local/Regional History</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Publisher: History Press/Arcadia</span></div>
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Date of Publication: August 22, 2016<span class="s2"></span></div>
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ISBN: 9781626199569<span class="s2"></span></div>
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Number of pages: 144 pgs<span class="s2"></span></div>
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<span class="s2">Word Count: 35,000</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Cover Artist: Cover photo by </span></div>
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<span class="s2">Frank C. Grace</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Book Description: </span></b><br />
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Ghosts lurk in the waters near Boston's historic seaport, haunting the secluded islands scattered throughout the harbor. Boston Harbor brims with the restless spirits of pirates, prisoners and victims of disease and injustice. Uncover the truth behind the Lady in Black on Georges Island. Learn about the former asylums on Long Island that inspired the movie Shutter Island, and dig up the skeletal secrets left behind by the Woman in Scarlet Robes. From items flying off the shelves at a North End cigar shop to the postmortem cries of tragedy at the centuries-old Boston Light on Little Brewster, author Sam Baltrusis breathes new life into the horrors that occurred in the historic waters surrounding Boston.<br />
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Book Trailer: <a href="https://youtu.be/Fgck0JI3rcM">https://youtu.be/Fgck0JI3rcM</a> <br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Haunted-Boston-Harbor-America/dp/1626199566">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/mobile/w/haunted-boston-harbor-sam-baltrusis/1123751144?ean=9781626199569">BN</a><br />
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<b><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Introduction to Haunted Boston Harbor </span></b><br />
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The Lady in Black summoned me here. However, as I searched every nook and cranny of Georges Island during a five-month gig as a historical narrator in Boston Harbor, the ghost of Melanie Lanier—as the Lady in Black is otherwise called—refused to reveal herself. She was playing hard to get.<br />
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“Something touched me in there, and it wasn’t human!” screamed a girl running out of the corridor of dungeons after a field trip to Fort Warren at Georges Island. “It was the Lady in Black,” she said convincingly. The girl looked mortified.<br />
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This was just one of the strange events that occurred during the summer of 2014 when I gave historical tours with Boston Harbor Cruises and traveled on large vessels carrying passengers back and forth to various islands in the outer harbor. I spent most afternoons during the summer searching for a repeat experience of a shadow figure that I’d seen there seven years before. No such luck.<br />
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I frequently heard screams emanating from Fort Warren’s haunted ramparts. However, it was usually one of the kids touring the dark hallway in the southeast battery.<br />
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The location that Edward Rowe Snow said was the Lady in Black’s haunt was in the front of the fort. It’s still accessible, but it’s extremely dusty and dark.<br />
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In 2007, I moved back to Boston from Florida and had a ghostly experience while touring the ramparts of Fort Warren at Georges Island. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an all-black shadow figure. I looked again, and it was gone. At this point, I had never heard the Lady in Black legend. I just intuitively knew Georges Island had some sort of psychic residue. While researching Fort Warren’s history, my interest in Boston’s haunted past gradually became a passion. History repeats itself, and it was my job to uncover the truth and give a voice to those without a voice—even though most of the stories turned out to be tales from the crypt.<br />
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Lawrence, a fellow Boston Harbor Cruises tour guide and former park ranger, insisted that ghosts do not inhabit Georges Island, adding that the Lady in Black legend was completely made up by folklorist Edward Rowe Snow.<br />
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“I spent so many nights there, I would know,” he said, as we passed Nix’s Mate en route to the mainland. “However, I would say the island has a spirit. Some rangers say the island’s energy, or spirit, welcomes people.”<br />
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In hindsight, I’ve decided that my encounter on Georges in 2007 was the island’s spirit welcoming me. However, ghosts can almost certainly be found nearby.<br />
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While several of the thirty-four islands have paranormal activity, Boston Harbor’s Little Brewster is allegedly the most haunted. The mysterious Boston Light, one of the five remaining Coast Guard–manned lighthouses in America, stands eerily on the rocky, two-acre island. It’s located behind Georges Island and can be spotted from the ramparts, which I explored regularly during the summer of 2014. While I was giving historical tours, the lighthouse was closed for much-needed repairs in preparation for its three-hundred-year anniversary.<br />
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Boston Light reopened in 2015 and has once again become a Boston Harbor hot spot.<br />
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Photographer Frank C. Grace, his father and I took a ferry out to Little Brewster. It was a rainy, overcast day—perfect weather for a ghostly encounter. Coincidentally, we visited hours before Boston Light’s 299-year anniversary on September 14, 2015 and the island was buzzing with excitement from both the living and the dead. The volunteers at the historic lighthouse were quick to confirm that Little Brewster was indeed haunted. “You hear ghost stories all the time,” remarked Val, a veteran tour guide. “One day, I had climbed all the way to the top and I heard phantom footsteps behind me and there was definitely no one else in the lighthouse.”<br />
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Other volunteers have mentioned hearing what sound like congo drums, possibly Native American tribal rhythms, on the island, without a plausible explanation.<br />
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Jeremy D’Entremont, historian for the American Lighthouse Foundation and author of The Lighthouse Handbook New England, confirmed the ghostly legends associated with Boston Light. “Coast Guard keepers experienced odd things and generally blamed it on ‘George,’ meaning George Worthylake, the first keeper, who drowned in 1718,” he told me. “The Coast Guard Auxiliary Watchstanders who spend shifts there today have also seen strange things.”<br />
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On the way back, we passed by many of the islands I fell in love with during the summer of 2014. Nix’s Mate, the smallest of the Harbor Islands, seemed particularly ominous. Marked by a black-and-white beacon and completely submerged during high tide, the freakishly small island is where pirates were kept in a crude contraption known as a gibbet cage, an invention of the Puritans. They would showcase the pirates as sort of a cautionary tale. While narrating Boston Harbor tours, I was pushed from my seat by an unseen force multiple times when passing this spot. It was so intense that I physically tied myself to my chair. One time, I was pushed so hard that I almost fell off the top deck of the vessel.<br />
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Disgruntled ghost pirates? Yep, Boston Harbor has them.<br />
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Of course, I had multiple encounters while researching the various haunts featured in Haunted Boston Harbor. The most profound was during an exploration of the USS Constitution, or Old Ironsides. The famous vessel was scheduled to be dry-docked for a three-year hiatus. I had seen it multiple times in all its majestic glory in Boston Harbor. It was breathtaking to watch the three-masted frigate sail past my vessel; it brought me to tears.<br />
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According to naval officer Wesley Bishop, Ghost Hunters was scheduled to investigate the oldest commissioned naval vessel still afloat. And yes, the uniformed crew did strongly believe that Old Ironsides was, in fact, haunted. “No enemy died on board, so if there are ghosts, they’re my fellow crew members who died long ago from battle-related wounds or the elements,” Bishop told me. “I haven’t had an encounter, but several of my [living] crew members have.”<br />
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Meanwhile, his fellow naval officer friend chimed in, “There are definitely ghosts on board.”<br />
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While I was peeking into the berthing area known as “the rack,” I swore I saw a shadow figure dart by me. Of course, multiple reports have been made of a sailor wearing a navy blue jacket and gold buttons. Ellen MacNeil, who has investigated the USS Constitution with her team, SPIRITS of New England, confirmed that the vessel is paranormally active.<br />
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“Is it haunted? Oh, hell yes,” MacNeil told Haunted Boston Harbor. Her team investigated the Constitution in 2010 over a two-day period. “We totally freaked out the captain with our audio and video evidence. With 308 deaths on the ship, mainly from illness not battle, the ship is very much loved and protected by these lost souls who were playful, curious and responsive to us being there.”<br />
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In addition to the USS Constitution, I had an up-close-and-personal encounter with the extremely haunted Charles W. Morgan. One sunny afternoon, the last wooden whaleship in the world cruised past my vessel in the harbor. The Morgan is supposedly haunted by a nineteenth-century sailor smoking a pipe. It was so surreal to experience this ancient vessel sail by me.<br />
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I also had a few bizarre experiences on the mainland. One sunny June afternoon, I was walking up State Street near the Old State House. A Clydesdale-type horse—his name is Prince—was carrying two passengers to the heart of Boston’s Revolutionary War past. The carriage driver named Becky, a saucy brunette, was stunned when the horse stopped mid-trot, raised his hoof as if he was spooked by an unseen force and looked in my direction. “Whoa, it must be a ghost,” Becky said without hesitation. “It’s the ghosts of the revolution.”<br />
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Apparently, horses are sensitives, too. If Becky only knew.<br />
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While giving tours during the summer of 2014, a co-worker at Boston Harbor Cruises captured an electronic voice phenomenon while exploring Georges Island one afternoon. He spent the day with his brother exploring the fort and captured a voice of what sounded like a man. “You can hear breathing, and then it says something,” he told me, playing the recording over and over.<br />
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“It sounds like it says ‘get out’ or something similar,” I told him.<br />
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What’s even more fascinating is that the male voice saying, “Get out” in his impromptu EVP sounded southern. Could it be a Confederate soldier?<br />
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One year later, I ventured out to Fort Warren and crawled through the original corridor of dungeons. I found the coffin used by Edward Rowe Snow to retell the Lady in Black legend. It was covered in dust and cobwebs.<br />
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A message from the vice president of the Confederacy, Alexander Hamilton Stephens, popped into my head. His quote: “All the genius I have lies in this.”<br />
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I laughed. It all made sense now. There is no Lady in Black. The ghost is a Confederate soldier or possibly even the cranky spirit of Stephens. I shivered in the beauty and the madness of the moment.<br />
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I crawled out of Fort Warren’s corridor of dungeons armed with my latest tale from the crypt. Melanie Lanier is totally made up. The Lady in Black is a man.<br />
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<span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">About the Author:</span><br />
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Sam Baltrusis, author of Ghosts of Boston, Ghosts of Salem and 13 Most Haunted in Massachusetts, is the former editor-in-chief of several regional publications including Spare Change News, Scout Somerville and Scout Cambridge. He has been featured as Boston's paranormal expert on the Biography Channel's "Haunted Encounters," and he is also a sought-after lecturer who speaks at dozens of paranormal-related events throughout New England.<br />
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<a href="http://hauntedbostonharbor.com/">http://hauntedbostonharbor.com/</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/sam.baltrusis">https://www.facebook.com/sam.baltrusis</a><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;">Twitter: @LoadedGun</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sam-Baltrusis/e/B00991S864">http://www.amazon.com/Sam-Baltrusis/e/B00991S864</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-2504809482678549802016-10-06T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-06T05:30:18.726-04:00C. K. Jackson<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Introducing C. K. Jackson's Kathy Abbott, a short story ...</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">This story is flying off the shelf with over 300 downloads and counting. Kathy Abbott is a story about an event that changes Kathy's life forever. You can download it FREE in your preferred format at <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/652957">smashwords</a> or buy it at <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Kathy-Abbott-K-Regulator-Book-ebook/dp/B01J6A40KU/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1473643605&sr=8-2&keywords=kathy+abbott#nav-subnav">amazon</a> so that the author may apply the earnings towards her editing costs for the highly anticipated sequel. Read the excerpt and if you want to read more download the full story. <i>Enjoy! </i></span></h3>
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Kathy Abbott</div>
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C. K. Jackson</div>
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Genre: Urban Fantasy, Thriller, Romance</div>
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Published: July 23, 2016</div>
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Words: 3,540<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN: 9781370300068<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pick up your copy FREE today</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/652957">Smashwords</a></div>
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<u><b>Description</b> </u></h4>
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Kathy Abbott’s story is the first event in a series of events that changes her life forever.<br />
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Kathy is a character in the Regulator Series. The series follows the lives of a group of gifted people who resides in the fictional town of Gull Village. The year that six girls disappeared, the Gull Village Division of the Regulators was formed and a race to stop an ancient evil began.<br />
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The Regulator Series is an urban fantasy thriller for readers ages eighteen and older. As the series progress so does the intensity.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt:</span></b></h4>
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Kathy peels the grapefruit like an orange. Juice drips onto the pile of paper towels laying on the table in front of her, reminding her once again why she is tired of eating them. She’s been eating them twice a day for the past two weeks hoping that she’ll soon fit into her favorite jeans again. Still, they are messy and she’s growing tired of the taste. When she finishes the fruit, she walks over to the trash bin to toss it out. The door opens just as the grapefruit hits the bottom of the can and she turns to see Robyn enter the room.<br />
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“Hey Robyn. Come and sit for a while. Are you on break?” She points to the table under the window. “My table’s over there.”<br />
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Robyn smiles. “I just need more coffee before getting started on the shelves. I’m checking expiration dates today. Sucks to be me right now. What are you doing? Still eating those grapefruits, huh? You’re gonna turn into one of them one day.”<br />
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Kathy giggles. “I thought I’d eat my grapefruit before the silver rush.” Each morning at eleven o’clock the local senior center drops off a busload of participants to do their grocery shopping. Like clockwork everything slows to a crawl in order to accommodate them. Kathy smiles while bouncing in her seat. “I can’t wait to end this day already.”<br />
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“You’re way too happy today girl. What’s going on? And don’t tell me it’s because of your vacation, either,” Robyn says.<br />
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“I was just thinking about my date tonight. Between that and my vacation, I’m ready to go home,” Kathy replies. She feels as if she is walking on air and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her date all week.<br />
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“Oh shit, that’s tonight! I almost forgot,” Robyn says. “You still didn’t tell me who Mr. Sexy is, though. When’s the big reveal? And don’t bullshit me, because I’m not in the mood.”<br />
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“Okay, okay. I’ll let you know after our date because I don’t want to get you all excited only to find out he’s an asshole … or that our first date is our last. That would be horrible. You may need to wait until I get back from vacation to hear the dirty little details, though. I’m planning on locking us in a room for the next five days.”<br />
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“I hear that, girl. Okay, I’ll be patient but not <i>too</i> patient, so you just make sure to tell me everything first. I’ll be pissed if I see it on Facebook before hearing it from you.” Robyn sips her coffee and nods to the clock. “Don’t be late getting back to your register.”<br />
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“I know. I’ve already been written up once this month for being late. See you later.” Kathy gets up and walks out of the room.<br />
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At five foot five, Kathy is not model beautiful, but she’s pretty. She doesn’t have much of a nightlife but, when she does go out on an occasional date, she tells Robyn all the juicy details. This time she hopes to share the news that she is in a committed relationship. All she wants is a boyfriend who loves her and her new boyfriend is the first guy she’s dated who understands her. When she talks, Clint listens. He remembers their conversations, no matter how silly they might be. Clint takes the time to cheer her up when she’s upset and he never look for ways to end their calls until she’s ready to end them. He is kind and patient, and she likes that about him. For now, though, they’re keeping their relationship a secret. It’s not like he’s cheating on a wife or a girlfriend; she’s asked him those questions already. No, they agreed to surprise their friends and families with the news together. <br />
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Tonight is important for them. It’s not like one of their usual dates and since it’s their first time meeting in person she has gone to a lot of effort to look good. She’s had her hair cut and, in the last week, she has perfected a new eyeliner style. Both have worked to bring out her best feature, her incredibly light-brown eyes. Even her nails and toes are painted with his favorite colors. Everything she’s wearing is new, down to her panties. He’s special, and she wants him to know it; she has never gone this far to please someone. She pulls on her coat, picks up her keys, grabs her handbag, takes one last look at her clean apartment, and walks out to her car.<br />
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<b><u>About the Author</u></b></h4>
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C. K. Jackson Lives in New Jersey with her husband and a family of groundhogs who resides in their backyard. She has a degree in accounting and loves to read in the genres of paranormal fantasy, urban fantasy, thrillers, and romance … to name a few.</div>
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Website/Blog: https://ckjacksonwrites.com/<br />
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Twitter: https://twitter.com/ckjackson6<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-87919612152550057982016-10-04T05:30:00.000-04:002016-10-04T05:30:03.188-04:00Kirsten Weiss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Introducing the Infernal Detective by Kirsten Weiss</i></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>The Infernal Detective</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Riga Hayworth </b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Book 4</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><b>Kirsten Weiss</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2">Genre: urban fantasy/suspense</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Publisher: Misterio Press</span></div>
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Date of Publication: May 2013<span class="s2"></span></div>
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<span class="s2">ISBN: 978-0-9855103-5-0</span></div>
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<span class="s2">ASIN: B00CRJDWRA</span></div>
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Number of pages: 274<span class="s2"></span></div>
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<span class="s2">Word Count: 75,000</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Cover Artist: Becky Scheel</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Book Description: </span></b><br />
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<i>Murder. The undead. Irritating relatives. </i><br />
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When Riga Hayworth finds a dead body in the bedroom, it’s par for the course. When the corpse drives off with her fiancée… That’s a problem.<br />
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Riga knows dead. More intimately than she’d like. So when a murdered photographer walks away from her pre-wedding party, she believes there’s necromancy afoot. And when she discovers that several of her wedding guests are under the influence of dark magic, she’s certain. But how can she catch a killer and stop a necromancer when even her nearest and dearest are lying to her?<br />
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Marrying romance, mystery, and the metaphysical, The Infernal Detective is a fast-paced urban fantasy, where nothing is quite as it seems, and magic lies just beyond the veil.<br />
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Book Trailer: <a href="https://youtu.be/7kohhn5z3bM">https://youtu.be/7kohhn5z3bM</a> <br />
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<a href="http://bookshow.me/B00CRJDWRA">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-infernal-detective-kirsten-weiss/1116424625?ean=2940148708483">BN</a> <a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-infernal-detective-1">Kobo</a><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">“A high-voltage, cleverly-spun mystery that I couldn't put down. Riga Hayworth is addictive.”- Diana Orgain, Best-selling author of The Maternal Instincts Mysteries</span></i><br />
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<span style="color: orange; font-size: large;"><i><b>Excerpt: Chapter 1</b></i></span><br />
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Riga checked her watch.<br />
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It was thirteen o’clock, and her feet hurt.<br />
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She’d never liked high heels, shouldn’t have worn the over-priced, strappy black pumps. Riga had been almost relieved when one of the heels snapped, relieved for the excuse to slip upstairs, relieved to escape.<br />
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A roar of laughter, punctuated by shattering glass. On the stairway, Riga winced, the relief evaporating. A week to the wedding and she’d already begun to feel proprietary about his things, their new lake house. But the crash was likely only a wine glass, and Donovan – they – could afford it…<br />
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Frowning, she looked again at her watch.<br />
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Nine forty-seven.<br />
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Riga rubbed her eyes. She had imagined the thirteen o’clock. It wasn’t an omen, a portent.<br />
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She limped up the steps, dangling the broken pump from one hand, the other hand grasping the hem of her gown, a sweep of formfitting black lace. She looked damn good in it, but the dress was a fraction too long for her five-foot-six form, and she’d been stumbling over the hem all night.<br />
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At the top of the steps, she walked down the wood-plank hallway to a tall door swagged with holly. She pressed her forehead against the wood, and released her hold on the dress. Riga shut her eyes. Inhaled the scent of Christmas garlands and wood polish.<br />
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Thirteen o’clock.<br />
<br />
It had been a trick of the light, a trick of her brain.<br />
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It wasn’t magic. Not here. Not so close to her wedding.<br />
<br />
She’d told Donovan that the wedding was the least important part of a marriage, and Riga was old enough to believe it. Donovan needed good press after a recent unfair pummeling to his reputation. So she’d pretended enthusiasm when his PR team planned their “celebrity” wedding, invited names she recognized but didn’t know, sent out press releases.<br />
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Soon they’d be married, and free. Riga smiled broadly. She could do this for him and in a week, the tumult would end. Her thumb found the band of platinum that circled her third finger, explored its edges.<br />
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A draft of cool air pebbled the flesh on her arms.<br />
<br />
Idly, she wondered if the place was haunted, if someone had opened a door, or if they needed new insulation. Donovan had closed on the gabled manor a month ago, and any and all options were possible. Riga was coming to learn that just because something cost a fortune, it didn’t mean it was well constructed.<br />
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“Escaping?” Donovan asked from behind her.<br />
<br />
She turned, leaned against the door, her auburn hair pillowing about her head.<br />
<br />
Donovan prowled up the stairs, his green eyes gleaming, a great cat in black Armani. God, he was gorgeous. Wavy, raven-black hair, broad shoulders, chiseled features. But he had other, more important, attributes that attracted her. And he was easy, oh so easy, to love.<br />
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She held up her shoes, dangling from a slender finger. “Regrouping.”<br />
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“Hm…” His broad hands traced the curve of her hips and he bent, kissing her, slow and intoxicating. He smelled of wild things, deep forests. When he pulled away, her lips burned.<br />
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“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”<br />
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“Once or twice.” She laughed. “Tell me again.”<br />
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His lips quirked, tugging at the small, cross-shaped scar on his chin. “I saw your expression when that heel broke.” His fingers traced a line from her jaw to her collarbone, and her skin tingled beneath his touch.<br />
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“Annoyance?” She tugged lightly on his crimson tie, pulling him toward her.<br />
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“Relief.” His voice was a low rumble.<br />
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“I just came up here for my Jordan McCall CD. Do you think he’d sign it for me?”<br />
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Donovan chuckled. “Star struck?”<br />
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“A little. So far, the only thing that’s stopped me from asking him is embarrassment. I don’t have any of his wife’s CDs.”<br />
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“Liar. Deep in that dark little heart I’ll bet you’re an Annabelle Lee fan.”<br />
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“A sucker for country love songs? Guilty.” She arched toward him, her soft curves molding to the hard contours of his body. “It’s a lovely party.”<br />
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“I know.” He pressed against her, one hand exploring the small of her back. His mouth grazed her earlobe, his breath uneven upon her neck. “Let’s ditch.”<br />
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“I thought you’d never ask.” She reached behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. The metal chilled beneath her fingers, iced, cold enough to burn. She gasped, jerking away.<br />
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Donovan took a step back, releasing her. “What’s…” He trailed off, brow furrowing.<br />
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Ice crystals spread from the knob across the surface of the door and the wall beside it, expanding outward in a circular pattern. The temperature in the hallway dropped. Riga shivered in her thin gown. Another ghost. And she had a good idea whose. After years of exposure, she’d gotten used to them. But Donovan had only recently gained the ability to see ghosts, and if Riga was right about this particular ghost… There were issues.<br />
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Donovan groaned, his lips twisting into a snarl. “Dad. He’s more irritating as a ghost than he was as a live father. Dad?”<br />
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But no specter appeared.<br />
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“Show yourself,” Donovan said in a low voice. “I’ve got some things to say to you.”<br />
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A breeze gusted mournfully down the hallway.<br />
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“Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Riga said. Both Donovan’s parents had died when he was a child. He never spoke much about what had happened after, but Riga was a detective and had pieced together a rough sketch – court dates and foster homes until Donovan came of age, and could manage a casino the state-appointed custodian had run into near-bankruptcy.<br />
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“No. I need to talk to him. But this is our time, and I’m fed up with him knocking things over, chilling rooms, slamming doors, and not telling me what he wants.”<br />
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Riga’s teeth chattered. “They may not be games. This may be the only way his spirit can communicate. If we understood what he wanted—”<br />
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“Right now, I don’t care what he wants. He’s the master of bad timing.” Donovan glanced at her, and whipped off his jacket, draped it over her shoulders. Grateful, she slipped her arms inside, and pulled it tight around her.<br />
<br />
He rattled the knob, gripped it with both hands, muscles straining. He stepped away, wiping his hands on his slacks. “He’s been dead for decades.” He tackled the door again, grunting. “And instead of acting his age, the man plays poltergeist.” His hand slipped off the knob, and his knuckles banged the door frame. Wincing, he sucked on the broken skin. “Can’t you…?” He jerked his head toward the door.<br />
<br />
“Use magic?” She shook her head. “The last time I tried that I melted the doorknob. I could burn the whole place down. Or worse.”<br />
<br />
“Worse than burning down our new home?”<br />
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Riga didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure what was more depressing – being haunted by her future father-in-law or the fact that her magic was still a disaster. That missing piece of her was like a wobbly tooth she couldn’t stop probing with her tongue. She told herself she could live without magic, but the loss nagged.<br />
<br />
“Right.” He nodded curtly, took a step back from the door.<br />
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Riga backed away, alarmed. She recognized that look. “Dono—”<br />
<br />
He raised one knee and stomp-kicked the door. The wood splintered, and the door crashed inward, ricocheting off the far wall. Donovan stopped the door’s return flight with one hand. He looked at Riga. “Were you saying something?”<br />
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“No. Nicely done.” There was a trick to kicking in a door. She felt irrationally pleased that he knew it.<br />
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He strode inside, and Riga trailed behind, wary. The ghost had frozen the door for a reason – a symbol, a sign, a warning. But as she followed Donovan down the short hallway into the master bedroom, she didn’t sense anything wrong. A king size bed faced the darkened window, a faded kilim arranged artfully upon the hardwood floor. Glass doors looked out upon Lake Tahoe, a black pool at night. The waning moon was a mercury trail on the water and reflected lights glittered along the far shore. Above it, snowcapped mountains rose darkly.<br />
<br />
“Enough games,” Donovan said. When there was no response, “Dad? Do you hear—” His voice dropped. “Oh, hell.”<br />
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Riga stumbled to a halt beside him.<br />
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On the far side of the bed was a reading area with a stone fireplace, wide, cozy chairs, and bookshelves. Before them lay a man’s body, a plastic bag wrapped tightly about its head, clouding his face.<br />
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“Oh my God,” Riga whispered, swaying. It had to be murder.<br />
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Donovan knelt beside the dead man, and grasped his wrist. He shook his head, pressed his fingers to the man’s neck. Donovan looked up at her, his expression grim. “He’s gone.”<br />
<br />
Even with his features distorted behind the plastic bag, Riga knew the man was dead, could sense his spirit had fled. The body was just an inanimate object now, an empty vessel. Of late, death seemed less an old acquaintance and more an annoying relative who visited too often, stayed too long, drank her best wine and hit her up for money. She stepped closer, swallowed. “That looks like Cam Mitchell.”<br />
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“The photographer?” A pulse beat in Donovan’s jaw.<br />
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“His wife is downstairs.” Riga leaned one hip against the bed and grasped the post, feeling sick, out of balance. “We have to tell her.”<br />
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“She’s pregnant, you know.” Donovan stood, not looking at her, and she knew he was thinking about his childhood loss, the years in foster homes.<br />
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“I didn’t know. How did you?”<br />
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“He was crowing about it to anyone who’d listen.” He slipped his cell phone from his jacket pocket, thumbed the keypad. “Let’s call the Sheriff before we notify anyone else.”<br />
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Riga nodded, ashamed at her relief at the delay in giving the widow the bad news.<br />
<br />
“King. Donovan here,” he said into the phone. “I’m at my lake house. Riga and I found a body.”<br />
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Riga shot him a questioning look. He knew Sheriff King’s direct number?<br />
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“No,” Donovan said into the phone. “Someone helped him along… Right. Fifteen minutes.” He hung up. His eyes were hard, cold. “I should stay with the body until the police arrive. Why don’t you go downstairs, meet the Sheriff when he gets here.”<br />
<br />
She approached the body, knelt on the soft white throw rug, placed one hand on the arm of a nearby cream-colored chair for balance. “Donovan… The killer had to be one of the guests.”<br />
<br />
“I know.” His words were clipped. “What I don’t understand is what the photographer was doing up here.”<br />
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“I don’t see any drag marks on the rug, no sign of a struggle. And to do this…” She motioned towards the photographer’s head and the plastic bag wrapped tight around it. “He wouldn’t have let someone do this without a fight. Unless he was drugged, somehow incapacitated first.”<br />
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“We’re getting married in a week,” he said.<br />
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She flushed. “And the police will take care of this. Sorry. Habit.”<br />
<br />
Riga backed out of the room, closing the fractured door quietly behind her. She turned and faced two elderly women, dressed in black.<br />
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“Gagh!” Riga clutched her chest, breathing heavily. “Aunt Peregrine, Aunt Dot. What are you doing here?”<br />
<br />
Dot peered up at her through coke-bottle lenses. They inflated her blue eyes to the size of silver dollars. Her black dress sagged and bagged around her, two sizes too big for her rotund frame. “Looking for you, dear.”<br />
<br />
Peregrine, a good foot taller than her niece, peered over Riga’s head at the broken bedroom door, drifting open. Her shoulders hunched, vulture-like, and she clutched a massive black purse in her hands.<br />
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Riga hastily grabbed the knob and yanked it shut. She smiled. “Well, now that you’ve found me, let’s head back to the party.”<br />
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“You look jumpy.” Peregrine lowered her head, studying Riga. “Is something wrong?”<br />
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“No. No. No, nothing’s wrong.” She felt sweat bead upon her lower back. Why did her aunts terrify her? She was an adult, dammit, and this was her house.<br />
<br />
Dot tapped Riga on the arm, and Riga’s skin twitched from the contact. “Well, of course she’s nervous, Peregrine. She’s getting married in a week!”<br />
<br />
“Yes,” Peregrine regarded Riga narrowly. “Awfully short engagement, if you ask me.”<br />
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Dot swatted her sister. “You’re so bad! Of course she’s not pregnant? At her age? Really!”<br />
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“At my… I’m only forty four!”<br />
<br />
“Not exactly a spring chicken,” Peregrine said. “I hope you’re not rushing into things because of the tick-tick-tick of your biological clock? Sometimes, it really is better to be alone.”<br />
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“No, Aunt Peregrine,” Riga said through clenched teeth. “That’s not why we’re getting married.”<br />
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“Don’t feel bad, dear,” Dot said. “What bride doesn’t feel occasional jitters? Poor cousin Lettie? What a mess she was. And then her bridesmaid fainted dead away. Knocked the ring bearer flat. What was his name? Wasn’t that Harold’s son?”<br />
<br />
“That wasn’t Lettie’s wedding,” Peregrine said. “That was Al’s daughter, Suzy. And the groom fainted, not the bridesmaid.”<br />
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Dot covered her mouth with her black gloved hand. “Was it? I was certain it was Lettie and the bridesmaid. Don’t you remember? The bridesmaid ended up marrying the best man.”<br />
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“No, no.” Peregrine shook her head. “She married the father of the bride. Such a scandal.”<br />
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“Oh.” Dot patted her hair, tied neatly in a silvery bun. “I don’t like thinking about those things.”<br />
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“Neither do I,” said Riga, her desperation growing. “So let’s go downstairs.” She hooked their elbows and steered them toward the steps.<br />
<br />
Dot neatly twisted away, moving toward the bedroom. “But isn’t there a ladies room in here?”<br />
<br />
“Not there!” Riga dodged between Dot and the bedroom door, pointed down the hallway. “There’s a guest bathroom, second door on the left.”<br />
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Dot clapped her hands together. “You have so many rooms! I do love this house.” She winked. “I suppose the casino business must be very lucrative? Your Mr. Mosse must love you very much to buy such an extravagant home.”<br />
<br />
“Isn’t there another bathroom in the bedroom there?” Peregrine motioned with her purse and Riga ducked to avoid its arc. “I’d rather not wait for Dot. She takes forever.”<br />
<br />
“Donovan’s in that room now,” Riga said. “There’s another bathroom in the guest room across the hall.”<br />
<br />
Peregrine nodded briskly and clumped away. Riga watched Dot dart into the guest bathroom, then glanced at the bedroom door, still hanging ajar. All she needed to cap the evening was for one of the old dears to find the body and have a heart attack. Awkwardly, she shifted her weight, and realized she was still one-shoed. She wrenched off the second pump, placed it on the banister, and slipped downstairs. How much time had she wasted? The Sheriff’s station wasn’t far – nothing was really far at Lake Tahoe – and he would be here soon.<br />
<br />
She darted past the wide, arched doorway to the living room, not daring to look left for fear of catching someone’s eye. The room inside was filled with celebrities and relatives and friends – mostly Donovan’s. Their laughter and the tinkling of glasses flowed toward her, a contented warmth, scented with cinnamon and wood smoke and sweat. She shied from it, through the stone-floored foyer with its massive Christmas tree decked in red and gold, and ducked through a nondescript doorway, into a claustrophobic, windowless room.<br />
<br />
The uniformed man seated at a bank of video monitors swiveled in his chair to face her. He was middle aged, with a comb-over and a paunch, but she’d seen him in the boxing gym. The man, Thomas, was lightning with his fists. He lumbered to his feet. “Evening, Miss Hayworth. Can I help you?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. The police will be arriving shortly. Could you let the man at the gate know?”<br />
<br />
He grabbed a handheld radio off the narrow table. “Something I should know about?”<br />
<br />
The floor here was stone too, and cold, and she curled her toes. “We discovered a body upstairs.”<br />
<br />
“But you’ve called the police, not an ambulance. Foul play?”<br />
<br />
“Possibly.” Definitely.<br />
<br />
He glanced over his shoulder at the video monitors behind him – views of the exterior, doorways, windows dripping icicle lights. No shots of the inside. “I haven’t seen anyone come or go for the last two hours, but I’ll check again.”<br />
<br />
“Thanks.” She shoved the door shut with her foot. “Mind if we check now?”<br />
<br />
He rolled his padded chair toward her. “Have a seat.”<br />
<br />
She sat, watched him queue up the videos with one hand while he radioed the gate with the other.<br />
<br />
Thomas grunted, eased himself into a swivel chair, and they watched the videos from the last hour on high speed, the sounds of revelry drifting through the closed door. Nothing caught her eye. Aside from the guard patrolling the exterior, nothing moved. No one entered or left the house.<br />
<br />
Riga released a slow exhale. So that was it then. The killer was one of the guests. She didn’t realize she’d clung to the hope it had been an outsider until it was snatched away, leaving behind a weight of lead.<br />
<br />
Frowning, she checked the slim gold watch – a gift from Donovan – that circled her wrist. Fifteen minutes had long gone. What was keeping the Sheriff? “When the police arrive, will you show them upstairs? The body’s in the master bedroom.”<br />
<br />
His expression flickered, but he nodded.<br />
<br />
She exited, pausing in the doorway to make sure the coast was clear, then hurried past the partiers and up the stairs, stumbling near the top.<br />
<br />
Cold. Sickening.<br />
<br />
An invisible miasma flowed out the bedroom door, coiled sluggishly on the stairs. Her stomach twisted, and she clutched the railing.<br />
<br />
Corpses. Rancid things. Decaying flesh.<br />
<br />
Her skin crawled.<br />
<br />
“Donovan?” She called softly, forcing herself forward.<br />
<br />
She was used to ghosts. This was something different.<br />
<br />
The hallway chandelier flickered above her, brightened. Fingers trembling, she touched the slim silver cross that hung from her neck, gathered the forces from above and below. Fueled by her fear, the energies rushed through her and outward, creating a bubble of safety around her, cutting a path through the rot and horror.<br />
<br />
She pressed her fingers against the bedroom door. It swung open at her touch and she sidled through, barefoot and silent. Her fingers curled, palms ready to strike as she prowled down the truncated hallway, turned the corner into the bedroom.<br />
<br />
It was empty.<br />
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<b><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">About the Author:</span></b><br />
<br />
Kirsten Weiss worked overseas for nearly twenty years in the fringes of the former USSR, Africa, and South-east Asia. Her experiences abroad sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.<br />
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Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes genre-blending steampunk suspense, urban fantasy, and mystery, mixing her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.<br />
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Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine. Sign up for her newsletter to get free updates on her latest work at:<br />
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Website: <a href="http://kirstenweiss.com/">http://kirstenweiss.com</a><br />
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Twitter: @KirstenWeiss<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-3871490297369535072016-09-29T05:30:00.000-04:002016-09-29T05:30:13.137-04:00Joe Reyes<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Featuring The Prodigal Son by Joe Reyes ...</span></div>
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A good man will most likely remain a good man when faced with adversity but a bad man will find it the perfect opportunity to rise to the top. Find out which type of man is inside Cortez when you read The Prodigal Son. His story continues in Aftermath the debut novel by Joe Reyes.<br />
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<b>Cortez's</b> story is FREE on <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/657154">smashwords.com </a> Download a copy in your preferred format today and if you like it get <b>Aftermath</b> on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Aftermath-Joe-Reyes-ebook/dp/B01F7S9UGO/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1473614423&sr=1-1&keywords=Aftermath+by+Joe+Reyes#nav-subnav">amazon</a> to know what happens next.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ghTblZIa-Cc/V9WME-xHbvI/AAAAAAAAFTM/c-jJ4wVgjvY6KKgVhtg-B3oVe879Y0q8wCLcB/s1600/The%2BProdigal%2BSon%2B%25E2%2580%2593%2Ba%2Bbook%2Bby%2BJoe%2BReyes%2BGoogle%2BChrome%252C%2BToday%2Bat%2B12.52.37%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ghTblZIa-Cc/V9WME-xHbvI/AAAAAAAAFTM/c-jJ4wVgjvY6KKgVhtg-B3oVe879Y0q8wCLcB/s320/The%2BProdigal%2BSon%2B%25E2%2580%2593%2Ba%2Bbook%2Bby%2BJoe%2BReyes%2BGoogle%2BChrome%252C%2BToday%2Bat%2B12.52.37%2BPM.png" width="211" /></a></div>
<br />The Prodigal Son<br /><br />Joe Reyes<br /><br />Genre: Action, Adventure, Science Fiction, Apocalyptic<br /><br />Published: Aug. 09, 2016<br />Words: 1,470<br />Language: English<br />ISBN: 9781370974276<br /><br /><br />Get it FREE today on smashwords.com<br /><br /><a class="" href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/657154">smashwords</a><br />
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<br />Aftermath <br />Joe Reyes<br /><br />Genre: Action, Adventure, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Post-Apocalyptic, Suspense, Thriller<div>
<br />Publisher: Wasteland Press (May 4, 2016)<br />Publication Date: May 4, 2016</div>
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Print Length: 284 pages</div>
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Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC<br />Language: English<br />ASIN: B01F7S9UGO<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Aftermath-Joe-Reyes/dp/1681111128/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1463015938&sr=1-4&refinements=p_30%3AWasteland+Press">Amazon</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/aftermath-joe-reyes/1123764110?ean=9781681111124">Barnes & Noble</a><br />
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<b>Description</b></div>
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What was once the United States has become a savage post-apocalyptic environment where the worst of the worst prosper and the remaining good hide.<br /><br />Seven characters in different parts of the United States must adapt to this new environment. The “fight or flight” mentality plays into the story, as the nation is divided into factions fighting for control of the country. The government is outnumbered, outgunned, and forced into hiding as well to recoup their forces.<br /><br />The novel pits these characters, the elements, and each other with lives intertwining on opposite sides of the war effort. One character's quest for revenge could jeopardize not only the war outcome but the reshaping of the entire nation. <br /><br />What these characters don't realize, is the terrifying evil making its way across the ocean.<br />
<i>Mr. Reyes was a guest on the Blog Talk Radio show, "Other Worlds of Romance" and we have the recording here! Listen to a chapter from his debut novel Aftermath.</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Listen to an EXCERPT here:</span> <a href="http://www.blogtalkradio.com/other_worlds_of_romance/2016/08/23/joe-reyes-is-my-guest-author-on-august-22nd">AFTERMATH</a><br />
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<b>Author Bio</b></div>
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Joe Reyes has never been afraid to go for what he wants in life. His goal is to be a full-time published author and is taking all the steps necessary to make that dream a reality. He hates when he hears about people who give up on their dreams.<br /><br />His writing style is fast paced. When he wrote his novel Aftermath, he wanted it to feel like a television show. Joe doesn’t like boring descriptions. He finds filler scenes to be a book killer and makes sure that every chapter has an immediate purpose or a purpose later on.</div>
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Website/Blog: https://joereyesauthor.com/</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-75582757304255090322016-09-22T05:30:00.000-04:002016-09-22T05:30:12.654-04:00Victoria Lord<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Featuring ... The Rich Girl </i></div>
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A Contemporary Romance. Read the excerpt and if you would like to read more ... well, you know what to do next, haha! This one looks interesting because I love reading romances with settings in cities like New York. I wonder if there's a scene in Central Park?</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Introducing...</span></b></div>
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<b>The Rich Girl </b><br />
<b>Victoria Lord</b><br />
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Publisher: Victoria Lord (November 2, 2015)<br />
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Publication Date: November 2, 2015<br />
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Contemporary Romance<br />
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Language: English</div>
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ASIN: B017I34XHW<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Rich-Girl-Victoria-Lord-ebook/dp/B017I34XHW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1472935743&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Rich+Girl+by+Victoria+Lord#nav-subnav"><span style="font-size: large;">Amazon</span></a><br />
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<b>Description</b></h3>
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Emily Stevenson is the only child of overprotective and wealthy parents. They are members of the “New York elite,” and Emily enjoys a privileged but sheltered girlhood and grows up with a somewhat fearful and cautious personality. Her life begins to change when she goes off to Harvard and meets someone with a very different background than her own. Circumstances conspire to bring her back to New York where a great tragedy impacts her life. Emily is almost broken. But with the help of her “Uncle Tony,” a family friend, she manages to put together the beginnings of a new life. Her friend Jim, an actor, also contributes to Emily’s recognition that her life can be fulfilling if she chooses to make it so. </div>
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A chance encounter on the streets of the city proves to be the catalyst for real change and growth for Emily. She finds a new life in a new career. Emily meets the challenges of this new life with intelligence, confidence, and a new belief in her own abilities. Yet, her personal life continues to be unsettled. She makes some misguided choices in her relationships with men. Will Emily overcome those bad choices and find a life with both personal and professional success?<br />
Join Emily on her journey of self-actualization and discover if the “poor little rich girl” does indeed manage to build a life in which she can grow into a strong and independent woman determining her own destiny. </div>
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This is a book intended for mature readers only. There are a few scenes (about 10% of the book) portraying sexual aspects of Emily’s life. If this type of material offends you, do not buy this book.<br />
Word count approximately 57,000 words<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt</span><br />
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<b>Tony’s Coffee Bar</b></div>
<br />Emily diligently typed away on her laptop in “Tony’s Coffee Bar” while sipping her cappuccino. Tony wasn’t here today; he was probably overseeing one of his other four restaurants. Emily was too busy for chit-chat, anyway. She had a million emails to answer, most of which pertained to Assisi House. And she was trying to get a start on next year’s budget so she could take it to her accountant later in the week. She was seated at her favorite table next to the large plate glass window; it was easy to get distracted by the foot traffic passing by. You never knew what might happen in the big city of New York to either entertain or appall you. <br /><br />But her concentration was broken by seeing Jim walk in the front door. “Well, there goes the next hour,” Emily thought to herself. Still, she loved seeing Jimmy. He had been her best friend for almost three years and they tended to communicate one way or another almost every day. After ordering his coffee, he came to join her and gave her a light kiss on her cheek. <br /><br />“Hi Emmy, what’s up with my favorite do-gooder today?” said Jim with his boyish “Aren’t you happy I’m here?” smile. <br /><br />“Just the usual. Staff stuff, money stuff, animal stuff, and the ever popular ‘what to wear to the gala’ stuff. I hate those kind of events and thanks again for agreeing to be my escort. The only saving grace is that this year they’re honoring Tony and you know I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”<br /><br />“I do know. And I’m looking forward to it if only for the opportunity to see you wearing something other than jeans and a tee. Have the organizers locked in anyone yet to give the award speech?”<br /><br />“Well, yes, it’s going to be the Cardinal.” A shadow passed over Emily’s face and Jim looked concerned also. <br /><br />“I’m so sorry, Emmy, but what’s past is past. Don’t be upset. I’ll be there with you and watch out for you. Can I tell you some good news of mine that might cheer you up?”<br /><br />“Of course, sweetie. And don’t worry about me. Time marches on, as the old saying goes. So what’s the news?”<br /><br />“Well, today David Lancaster called me from London and he’s agreed to sign on for a year at the New Theater as co-star and director. Think of it, the most talented British stage actor of his generation will be part of my troupe. It’s quite a coup for us and the investors were thrilled when I told them. At last, all my plans to unshackle myself from L.A. are falling into place.” <br /><br />“Jimmy, that’s wonderful!” said Emily and she leaned over and gave him a big hug. She was honestly happy for him and for a moment pushed her own issues aside. “I have a feeling big changes are going to be coming for both of us this year. And I’m resolved to make the most of them. Let’s drink to our futures.”<br /><br />And they clinked their coffee cups together and smiled at each other.<br />
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<b>Arthur Bio</b></h3>
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"Fortune's Wheel" is Victoria Lord's first novel. It draws on her love of British history, especially the sixteenth century. She recently published her second novel, "The Rich Girl," which is set in contemporary New York City and features another strong and independent woman as protagonist.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-36033376594800106742016-09-15T05:30:00.000-04:002016-09-15T05:30:19.260-04:00Ian K. Sylus<div style="text-align: center;">
Today's Promo Thursday is all about Nightmare Child </div>
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a horror/Thriller by Ian K. Sylus </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PeixHn7mgPg/V8zaflhloaI/AAAAAAAAFR0/WpxowWUtpvkulUEoYNBlEDlsdpqfgyVJQCK4B/s1600/Nightmare%2BChild%2B-%2BKindle%2Bedition%2Bby%2BIan%2BK.%2BSylus.%2BMystery%252C%2BThriller%2B%2526%2BSuspense%2BKindle%2BeBooks%2B%2540%2BAmazon.com.%2BGoogle%2BChrome%252C%2BToday%2Bat%2B10.36.24%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PeixHn7mgPg/V8zaflhloaI/AAAAAAAAFR0/WpxowWUtpvkulUEoYNBlEDlsdpqfgyVJQCK4B/s200/Nightmare%2BChild%2B-%2BKindle%2Bedition%2Bby%2BIan%2BK.%2BSylus.%2BMystery%252C%2BThriller%2B%2526%2BSuspense%2BKindle%2BeBooks%2B%2540%2BAmazon.com.%2BGoogle%2BChrome%252C%2BToday%2Bat%2B10.36.24%2BPM.png" width="131" /></a><b>Nightmare Child</b><br />
<b>Ian K. Sylus </b><br />
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<b>Genre: </b>Horror, Thriller<br />
<b>Publisher:</b> Ian K. Sylus (June 30, 2016)<br />
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<b>Print Length:</b> 165 pages</div>
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<b>Publication Date:</b> June 30, 2016<br />
<b>ASIN:</b> B01HTQYCHE<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Nightmare-Child-Ian-K-Sylus-ebook/dp/B01HTQYCHE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1473036587&sr=8-1&keywords=Nightmare+Child+by+Ian+K.+Sylus#nav-subnav">AMAZON</a><br />
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<b>Description</b></div>
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Stare down the physical representation of everything your terror calls home. Celeste St. Clare awakes beneath a tightrope, gazing upon the fragmented world around her. The only clairvoyance through a sea of beasts and psyche-shattering realizations is a man in a ruined suit, claiming to have control over the landscape before her. Nightmare Child delves deep into the uncharted mind, ripping through the emotions and enigma that we call 'being human'.<br />
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EXCERPT ...<br />
<br /><br />Celeste put her feet into the casket, and lowered herself down with her arms. She was a mere few feet above the podium, and let go to plant a landing. As she stared upwards, the cutout of a casket in the sky began to dissipate. It was just her and Rift now, unaware as to the layer of sin this place possibly concealed. She wasn’t provided with much detail, then again that may have been a bit of her own doing.<br /><br />The luscious grass was an even watercolor look, every blade painted the same. The scenery all around was a massive graveyard, well-maintained and peaceful, the way it should be. There were seven chairs in each of the seven rows, all of them had a paper name plate on the seat. Every name plate was empty. Who would have come to her mother’s funeral? That, she didn’t know.<br /><br />The large oak tree cast shade over a section of the seating arrangement, and there were flower baskets and decorations in vases. They were presented on a table, and smack dab in the middle of them were a dozen long-stem black roses. They appeared wilted, but still had some time left in them. A photograph of her mother was blown up on a large display, only the missing elements were… startling.<br /><br />There was a perfect image of what she should have been, a moment in her prime. It was a photo that Celeste remembered well. She could vividly recall it in her mind. Why was it that there was no face on the display? Skin, but no face—like it had been wiped away. In that exact moment, she could hear the distant wind come to a stop, and the scent of everything around her died.<br /><br />The scenery became cracked, and void of animation. Eight panels fell flat, all landing on the outside. It was like leaving a reenactment, coming back to reality. Everything just broke away, as if an enigma had been unraveled. The green grass resisted to sway. It was like it all turned to crumpled paper and ceased to be magical. This was what she thought her mother’s funeral to be, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t anything like this. Celeste awoke covered in bruises in the backseat of the family truck, and upon inquiry, was told the funeral was wonderful.<br /><br />The area behind the once-real panels of landscape was like a big boiler room. The red lights were dim and shined off the machinery. The only white light was looming over her mother’s casket. It rested next to the bizarre photograph draped in a white cloth. As she neared it, she could hear arguing—only this time, it wasn’t her father. Mr. Rope and Grim were shouting above, on the citadel, and somehow she could hear them.</div>
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<b>Author Bio</b></div>
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I began writing when I was five-years-old, and from that point on, it became my passion. I've married a lovely woman, had three amazing boys by her; all that's left to do is write a bestseller. I mean, how hard can that be, right?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-91097653081878049212016-09-04T09:00:00.000-04:002016-09-04T08:44:42.309-04:00Important<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 13px;">Thank you for reading my blog and supporting the amazing authors who share their work here at Cloey's. It has been a pleasure meeting and chatting with each and every one of you here and on Twitter. </span><br />
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I am coming out of my hiatus and will be featuring authors and ebooks very soon. Watch for my next scheduled book tour in October.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-5454009054271598002015-03-30T05:30:00.000-04:002015-03-30T05:30:00.065-04:00Celia Breslin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Excerpt and Giveaway by Celia Breslin</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Diamond Moon <br />Black Hills Wolves <br />Book 12 <br />Celia Breslin </b><br /><br />Genre: Paranormal Romance <br /><br /><br />Publisher: Decadent Publishing <br />Date of Publication: March 27, 2015 <br />ISBN: 978-1-61333-803-2 <br />ASIN: B00T2E7ZEY <br /><br />Number of pages: 85 <br />Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><b>Book Description: </b><br /><br />Human-wolf hybrid Darci Diamond spends every full moon locked in auntie’s basement in Southern Oregon. Her excruciating shifts terrify her, the last one causing her heart to stop beating. Seeking a cure, she journeys to Los Lobos. <br /><br />Ross Luparell returns to the struggling Tao pack, using his millions made in the tech industry to build homes for pack families in need. He never imagined he would also find his one true mate. But when a hybrid with the biggest green eyes he’s ever seen lands on his doorstep in the middle of a wicked summer storm, there’s no denying it. She’s the one. <br /><br />She wants a normal human life, free from pain-filled shifts. He won’t give up on her Wolf, and will do whatever it takes to help her accept her true nature. But can he convince her to trust him with her heart? <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
Available at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/diamond-moon-black-hills-wolves-ebook/dp/b00t2e7zey">Amazon</a> <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/diamond-moon">Kobo</a> <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/diamond-moon/id963546627?mt=11">iTunes</a> <a href="http://www.decadentpublishing.com/">Decadent Publishing</a> </div>
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<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/celia_breslin_diamond_moon?id=ckovbgaaqbaj">Google Play</a> <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-diamondmoon-1760499-340.html">ARe</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1121371749">BN</a></div>
<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b> Excerpt: </b></span><br /><br /> He reached out with his Wolf senses. The feedback froze his fingers on the doorknob. Female. Damn, she smelled good. Human. Wolf. Wait…both? The copper tang of blood hit his nose. And injured.<br /><br /> He flung open the door. His abrupt move caught his visitor off guard, one small, white fist raised to knock. The woman startled and fell forward. Catching her, he pulled her inside, kicking the door shut with his foot.<br /><br /> She sagged against him, a shivering bundle of wet woman. Underneath the dampness, her scent drop-kicked his gut. Apples and cinnamon. Roses and honey. His body perked up, taking extreme notice. He fought the growl of possession threatening to tear out of his throat. Holy hell, had his potential mate just walked into his home in the middle of a storm?<br /><br /> The scent of her blood jump-started his brain into action. He lowered her gently to the floor. “Jesus. You okay?” <br /><br /> His instincts urged him to check her for wounds, but he was a stranger and didn’t want to spook her. But goddamn, he wanted to touch her. Peel off her wet clothes. See all of her. With a jacket covering her torso, tight jeans hiding her legs, and her ball cap pulled low on her face, all he’d seen so far was her quivering pale chin, full red lips, and those delicate, trembling hands.<br /><br /> “S-s-sorry, d-dripping all ov-v-ver your f-f-floor,” she said, teeth chattering. Her snow white fingers curled on the hardwood, arms trembling with her effort to keep herself upright. Blood streaked the wood. A line of liquid crimson slid down her jaw and dripped from her chin onto her jacket.<br /><br /> To hell with propriety. “You’re injured. Let me help you.” He pulled off her cap and damn near swallowed his tongue.<br /><br /> Big green eyes blinked up at him from a face so pale it made him think of moonlight. Drenched, short black hair lay plastered to her head, the ends framing features reminiscent of the fairies his sister loved to draw for the hidden-object games she designed. Ethereal beauty. My beauty. He stroked a knuckle down her cheek then ran his thumb over her soft, full lower lip.<br /><br /> She flinched and batted his hand away, falling to her side in the process.<br /><br /> Ross snapped back to reality with a healthy hit of guilt. “Shit. Sorry.”<br /><br /> His gaze shot to her forehead where a two-inch cut sent blood trailing over her prominent cheekbone with its silky-smooth skin he’d so enjoyed caressing—<br /><br /> Shit. He gave himself a mental ass kicking for scaring her. “I’m Ross. You’re safe here. Promise.”</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>About the Author:</b><br /><br />Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. Her award-winning vampire series - The Tranquilli Bloodline - is available from Champagne Books. Diamond Moon is her first werewolf story for Decadent Publishing’s Black Hills Wolves shifter line. <br /><br />When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to Joss Whedon’s TV shows and movies.<br /><br />Web site: <a href="http://www.celiabreslin.com/">http://www.celiabreslin.com/</a> <br /><br />Blog: <a href="http://www.celiabreslin.com/blog/">http://www.celiabreslin.com/blog/</a> <br /><br />Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/celiabreslin">http://www.twitter.com/celiabreslin</a> <br /><br />Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/celiabreslinauthor">https://www.facebook.com/CeliaBreslinAuthor</a> <br /><br />Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/celiabreslin">http://www.goodreads.com/CeliaBreslin</a> <br /><br />Pinterest: <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/celiabreslin/">http://www.pinterest.com/celiabreslin/</a></span> <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-63154728414665007132015-03-18T05:30:00.000-04:002015-03-18T05:30:00.948-04:00L.J.K. Oliva<br />
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L.J.K. Oliva Spotlight</div>
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<b>A World Apart<br />Shades Below<br />Book One<br />L.J.K Oliva</b><br /><br /><i>Genre: Urban fantasy</i><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Book Description:</b> <br /><br /><i>"There are things that go bump in the night, Mr. MacMillian. It's my job to bump back."</i><br />Private investigator Jesper MacMillian was sure he'd seen it all. After all, in a city like San Francisco, strange is what's for breakfast. Following a long recovery after a horrific accident, his life is finally the way he wants it- or at least, close enough. The only monsters on his radar are the ones that keep him awake at night.<br /><br />All that changes the day he meets Lena Alan.<br /><br />Before MacMillian has a chance to brace for impact, Lena drags him into a world where monsters aren't just real, they're hiding in plain sight. Suddenly, everything he knows is suspect, starting with his current case. For Lena, a medium since childhood, it's just another day at the office. For MacMillian, it's the beginning of the end of everything he thinks he knows.<div>
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<br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"> Excerpt </span></b><br /><br /><br />The elevator came to a stop. The doors started to open. MacMillian backed away and shook his head. "Do me a favor. Leave now. Don't come here again."<br /><br />He stepped into the hallway, then froze. Clustered outside the door to the office was a horde of people, the widest slice of humanity he'd ever seen crammed into one place. There were cowboys, businessmen, soldiers. Native Americans, what looked to be early Chinese, and more than a few women resembling the one from the side street.<br /><br />The woman stepped out of the elevator behind him. She hissed. "Jesus. Is it always like this here?"<br /><br />MacMillian stared down at her. "What are you- you can see them?"<br /><br />She rolled her eyes. "Well, obviously. I'm a medium, remember?" She started down the hallway, paused, and glanced over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"<br /><br />MacMillian hung back. She shrugged. "Suit yourself."<br /><br />She walked up to the edge of the crowd and cleared her throat. "Okay, someone want to tell me what you're all doing here?"<br /><br />Multiple heads swung towards her. An elderly man in a suit that would have been the height of fashion in the late eighteen-hundreds stepped forward. MacMillian strained his ears, but he couldn't hear what the man said. The woman listened closely, made a curious sound in the back of her throat and turned back to him. "He says there's a medium here. Are you sure you're not sensitive?"<br /><br />He was feeling rather sensitive, but he shook his head. "I don't even know what that means."<br /><br />The woman humphed. "That's what I thought." She turned back to the man. "So you're all here to be moved on?"<br /><br />The man nodded.<br /><br />Her shoulders relaxed. She reached out and took the man's hand in hers. His eyes widened, then a peaceful look came over his face. His lips turned up. White light appeared in the center of his chest, expanded outward until his entire body glowed. With what looked like a sigh of relief, he evaporated.<br /><br />MacMillian's jaw dropped.<br /><br />The woman moved slowly through the crowd. Hand after hand reached out for her. She took each one, held on until its owner flashed white and disappeared. By the time she reached the office door, the hallway was empty. She leaned back hard against the wall and closed her eyes.<br /><br />MacMillian didn't remember moving, but somehow he was standing in front of her. He closed his free hand around her arm and towed her inside, not stopping until they reached his office.<br /><br />He slammed the door. "What the... what was..." He dragged a sleeve across his brow. It was drenched in sweat, but his skin felt freezing.<br /><br />The woman watched him, her eyes sympathetic. "Rough day, Magnum?"<br /><br />He glared.<br /><br />She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "That, my dear detective, was the other San Francisco. You've probably seen it before, just out of the corner of your eye. You've probably dismissed it all your life. Maybe you always told yourself you'd just had too much to drink." She paused, her gaze heavy on his face. MacMillian squirmed. "But I'm guessing you always knew better."<br /><br />His head was throbbing. He shook it once, twice, but it didn't clear. "I don't get it, Miss..."<br /><br />"Alan," she supplied.<br /><br />He nodded. "Ms. Alan. Why are you here?"<br /><br />Her eyes darkened. "Because there are things that go bump in the night, Mr. MacMillian. It's my job to bump back."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br /><b>About the Author:</b><br /><br />L.J.K Oliva is the devil-may-care alter-ego of noir romance novelist Laura Oliva. She likes her whiskey strong, her chocolate dark, and her steak bloody. L.J.K. likes monsters... and knows the darkest ones don't live in closets.<br /><br />Newsletter Signup- <a href="http://eepurl.com/xrjud">http://eepurl.com/xRJuD</a> <br /><br />Facebook- <a href="https://www.facebook.com/writinginthenight">https://www.facebook.com/writinginthenight</a> <br /><br />Twitter- <a href="https://twitter.com/writermama">https://twitter.com/writermama</a> <br /><br />Goodreads- <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/lauraoliva-writinginthenight">https://www.goodreads.com/lauraoliva-writinginthenight</a> <br /><br />Pinterest- <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/authorljkoliva/">http://www.pinterest.com/authorljkoliva/</a> <br /><br />Blog- <a href="http://ljkolivabooks.blogspot.com/">http://ljkolivabooks.blogspot.com/</a> </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Blog- <a href="http://writebitches.com/">http://writebitches.com</a></span> </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-80754245487998402492015-03-04T05:30:00.000-05:002015-03-04T05:30:01.538-05:00Lisa Medley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Reap and Repent</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The Reaper Series <br />Book 1<br />Lisa Medley</b><br /><br /><br />Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance<br />Reapers, Demons, Angels, Sex <br /><br />Words 84K <br />326 pages</span><br />
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</span><b>Book Description:</b><br /><br /><i>They see death. Can they share a life?</i><br /><br />Ruth Scott can read the energy of every person she meets. Then she meets Deacon Walker. She can see his ice-blue eyes, his black hair, and his gorgeous face. But this beautiful stranger has no aura. <br /><br />Deacon is just as unsettled by Ruth—and, having spent more than two hundred years ushering souls to Purgatory, Deacon is seldom shocked by anything. As he helps Ruth to understand her true nature, she awakens desires that he decided long ago a Reaper can't afford. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A demon invasion forces Deacon to confront the darkness in his own past even as he fights to save the human souls he’s charged to protect. When he’s taken captive, his first concern is for Ruth. But Ruth just might be able to save herself—and the Reaper she can’t live without—if she can learn to wield her newfound powers.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Not their first meeting but the first with introductions:</span></i><br /><br />“Ruth, my name is Deacon. You might have noticed that I have some rather unusual abilities. For one, I’m very fast when I want to be. For another, I can affect your mood by touch, which I did just now to calm you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I do need to know a few things. What are you?”<br /><br />What am I? Uh, a girl would be a good start. What the hell?<br /><br />She shook her head side to side, indicating “No.” <br /><br />“No, you don’t understand? Or no, you don’t know what you are?” he asked, obviously growing frustrated.<br /><br />She shook her head again.<br /><br />“Okay, this isn’t going to work unless you speak. I don’t read minds, you know.” <br /><br />Good to know, she thought. What came out was, “I don’t understand.” <br /><br />“When we ran into each other at the hospital, you had no aura. What are you? Are you a reaper? An angel? Christ on a crutch, you aren’t a valkyrie, are you?” he asked, running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “I’m betting no on the angel front because the Reiki energy doesn’t seem to work on angels. So what are you?”<br /><br />“A student. Or, I was a student. Now I’m just... I don’t know what you’re talking about—angels and reapers and valkyries. I’m...human?” <br /><br />“You are more than human.” <br /><br />“I’m not. What do you want with me?”<br /><br />“I want answers. In the hospital, I sensed something about you when we met... Your mother was Mary Scott. Correct? She died in that hospital room while you were there?” <br /><br />“I didn’t do that. It wasn’t my fault,” she blurted out.<br /><br />“Okaaay,” he proceeded cautiously. “Did you touch her before you left?” <br /><br />She considered him, her mouth going dry. She had touched her. She’d given her that final kiss on the forehead.<br /><br />“Yes,” she whispered. <br /><br />Ruth couldn’t look at him as she began to realize what all of this might mean. Had her bizarre handicap really killed her father, and now her mother, too? <br /><br />She was a killer. <br /><br />“You’re not a killer,” he said, rolling his eyes.<br /><br />“I thought you couldn’t read minds!” She sobbed, tears choking her throat closed. It’s my fault. I AM a killer.<br /><br />“You’re not,” he insisted. “I think you’re a reaper, like me.”<br /><br />Her heart starting beating faster and her vision started to go blurry around the edges. The whole room sped down a black chute into darkness. She was going to pass out. She was going to pass out with a strange supernatural man in her house. <br /><br />God help me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>About the Author:</b></span></div>
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Lisa has always enjoyed reading about monsters in love and now she writes about them, because monsters need love too. She adores beasties of all sorts, fictional as well as real, and has a farm full of them in her Southwest Missouri home, including: one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees, and a guinea pig. She may or may not keep a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out bag in her trunk at all times, including a machete. Just. In. Case.</div>
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<a href="http://lisa-medley.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lisamedleyauthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/lisamedley" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/medley3/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> |</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7824406.Lisa_Medley" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LisaMedley/posts" target="_blank">Google+ </a>| <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lisa-Medley/e/B00I66M24M/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page </a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7715674493372761738.post-50448231078440463892015-02-08T13:39:00.000-05:002015-02-08T13:39:10.311-05:00Cloey's Guides Are Here!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cloey's Guide To Promoting Your eBook is Live!</span></div>
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Psst... hey, Cloey here, Guest what I did? I recorded my first podcast show! My first recording studio is ready and my very first podcast is now live in iTunes. It was a lot harder than I expected but I got through it and with more episodes I'll get better. I am still trying to find my comfort zone and I can't wait to get there - I am very excited.</span><div class="p2">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My intentions are to have two free shows, a podcast for readers and a podcast for writers but I need to roll out one at a time. The writer's podcast is the first to go live and it's called "Cloey's Guide To Promoting Your eBook". Go to www.cloeysguides.com to listen to my very first episode or to iTunes at <a href="http://goo.gl/gxfA4q">http://goo.gl/gxfA4q</a> I was nervous, awkward, and uncomfortable the whole time that I was recording it. Let me know what you think about it your feedback is highly appreciated. You can leave me a message on my listener voicemail feedback line at 732-455-9814.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cloey's Guide To Promoting Your eBook is a weekly show for aspiring writers and new authors. I have met many new authors who were confused with all of the information that's available to them. They really need help navigating the steps that will help them release a quality book for their target market. If you are one of the authors or writers that I've met then you know exactly what I'm talking about. I plan to address your needs while inviting industry professionals to come on my show for discussions and interviews.</span><div class="p2">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We will discuss what you need to do as a writer and author to release, market. and promote your ebooks - I’m keeping it simple. I know that there are many books and maybe even podcasts out there giving advice on the subject of promoting ebooks but my show will be different. I am giving out of the box tips and tricks in a way that will be easy to understand and implement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am also inviting people who are doing things right - they already have their books out there in front of their audience. Come and learn from your peers and industry professionals. The industry professionals will also be available for hire if you need their help. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This show will provide the most helpful information in an easy to learn and also easy to implement format.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I actually wanted to write a "how-to" book but thought that the resources and information would be better presented as a podcast. You will be able to listen anywhere you are and also have the opportunity to utilize my companion website at any time. I am very excited about Cloey’s Guide To Promoting Your eBook and I hope that you listen to an episode and let me know what you would like to learn in the upcoming episodes.</span><div class="p2">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The second podcast show that I plan to start is "The Book Junkie’s Guide To The Galaxy". This show is for readers. I’ll let you know more about it as I get closer to recording my first episode.</span><div class="p2">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You can find me on Twitter @CloeyWorld and www.cwbookreviews.com or at my podcast website at www.cloeysguides.com I am looking forward to creating informative shows that will take your eBook to the next level.</span><div class="p2">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858919389227611853noreply@blogger.com0