Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Sweet Little Lies by Jill Shalvis

Author: Jill Shalvis
Publisher: Avon
Date of publication: June 2016

As captain of a San Francisco Bay tour boat, Pru can handle rough seas—the hard part is life on dry land. Pru loves her new apartment and her neighbors; problem is, she’s in danger of stumbling into love with Mr. Right for Anybody But Her.

Pub owner Finn O’Riley is six-foot-plus of hard-working hottie who always makes time for his friends. When Pru becomes one of them, she discovers how amazing it feels to be on the receiving end of that deep green gaze. But when a freak accident involving darts (don’t ask) leads to shirtless first aid, things rush way past the friend zone.

Pru only wants Finn to be happy; it’s what she wishes for at the historic fountain that’s supposed to grant her heart’s desire. But wanting him for herself is a different story—because Pru’s been keeping a secret that could change everything. . . .

Sweet Little Lies is the first in a new series taking place in San Francisco.  Pru is the latest tenant in Finn's building and has become a regular in his pub,   For Finn, work is his life and there is no room for fun.  Until he meets Pru.  As the two grow closer, a secret that Pru has may tear them apart.

I thought this one was really cute.  There were a lot of laugh out loud moments.  That is one thing about this author's writing that I liked.  She has a talent for witty banter among her characters.  She also knows how to write a love scene!  Pru and Finn were smoking together!  The secondary characters were great and I look forward to their stories. Another cute addition to the book was the #hashtag titles that set the tone for each chapter. I thought they were a nice touch!

The only thing that I wasn't a fan of was Pru's secret.  I guess I didn't really understand why she continued to feel guilty especially when she had nothing to do with it. But, that is on me.  In the end I was happy for their HEA.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Guest post & excerpt: Ghost Hampton by Ken McGorry

Today we welcome a guest post from author Ken McGorry.  He shares with us how his book Hampton Ghost was born.  It's available now on Amazon!  There is also a sneak peek into the book below!

Publisher: Independent
Date of publication: April 2016

Lyle Hall is a new man since his car accident and spinal injury. The notoriously insensitive Bridge Hampton lawyer is now afflicted with an odd sensitivity to other people's pain. Especially that of a mysterious young girl he encounters outside a long-abandoned Victorian house late one October night. “Jewel” looks about 12. But Lyle knows she’s been dead a hundred years. Jewel wants his help, but it’s unclear how. As if in return, she shows him an appalling vision—his own daughter's tombstone. If it’s to be believed, Georgie’s last day is four days away. Despite Lyle’s strained relations with his police detective daughter, he’s shocked out of complacent convalescence and back into action in the real world.

But the world now seems surreal to the formerly Scrooge-like real estate lawyer. Lyle’s motion in court enjoining the Town of Southampton from demolishing the old house goes viral because he leaked that it might be haunted. This unleashes a horde of ghost-loving demonstrators and triggers a national media frenzy. Through it all strides Lyle’s new nemesis in high heels: a beautiful, scheming TV reporter known as Silk.

Georgie Hall’s own troubles mount as a campaign of station house pranks takes a disturbing sexual turn. Her very first case is underway and her main suspect is a wannabe drug lord. Meanwhile, Lyle must choose: Repair his relationship with Georgie or succumb to the devious Silk and her exclusive media contract. He tells himself seeing Georgie’s epitaph was just a hallucination. But a few miles away the would-be drug lord is loading his assault rifle. Berto needs to prove himself. 

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

How Ghost Hampton Was Born

My wife and I were driving down a shady residential lane in Westhampton Beach, Long Island, one summer day a few years ago when she gestured at a nicely restored old colonial house. As we passed, she said, “I know the man who bought that house. He says it’s haunted.” Oh, really? “Yes. And they told him it was once a brothel.”
This was a few years ago. I was shopping my first novel, Smashed, and also looking for a new project. By the time we got out of the car, I had my title: Ghost Hampton.
A college professor of mine once told us English majors that you only title your work after you’ve written it -- so you know what it’s about. But now it was too late. I was in love with my title and would have to work backwards! Soon enough, I had a climax in mind: a troubled man trapped in an old house with some vicious, deadly supernatural being.
How trapped? Well his wheelchair battery had given out.
What’s he doing in a wheelchair? …Have to get back to you on that.
Where are his friends? He has none.
Family? Just an estranged daughter who wants nothing to do with him.
How did he get in this house? Uhmm…
Why does he have no friends? Err…

I had plenty of work ahead of me. For one thing, I had to move my setting away from the village where my wife and I have a little summer place. Bridgehampton looked good – situated in the middle of the posh Hamptons, but a place with lots of history and a surprisingly small off-season population of 3,000 locals. I’d need to fictionalize the place while creating a memorable cast of year-round characters. And I needed an “inciting incident.”
For my protagonist Lyle Hall and me, that incident coalesced around perhaps Bridgehampton’s most noteworthy landmark: its century-old memorial to those who lost their lives in America’s wars. The big old block of granite, which is real, stands in the middle of the village’s main intersection. That’s what Lyle Hall plows into, driving his Hummer too fast and trying to avoid a sweet old lady who’s blundered into his path. She does not survive. Lyle does, just barely, and when he emerges from coma we see he’s become a pariah in the eyes of an unsympathetic local population. And there’s something more: He can now hear and see disturbing things no one else can. Like the strange whispers that emanate from an abandoned old mansion known to all as “Old Vic.” The whisperers want Lyle Hall.


He heard her here. She was one of the whisperers. It seemed weirdly flattering at first.
           Ensconced in the MediCab that exhausted evening of the detour, Lyle had the windows down, allowing in fresh air and the angling rays of the setting sun. Commuter traffic from the train station had been annoyingly redirected onto Poplar Street. Fred crept forward, foot on the brake, with eight more cars ahead of them. Wrung out after his wrongheaded foray to Southampton, Lyle’s arms and shoulders ached; muscles, joints, his hands too. And he felt the onset of what Dr. Susan Wayne called “free-floating anxiety.” In Lyle’s case, a blob of uneasiness that could intensify into inchoate dread.
He was slumped in his Mr. Potter when the imposing shambles of a house came into view on his right. Everybody called it Old Vic. Sporting dumb old “No Trespassing” signs as long as anyone could remember, it was commonly held that Old Vic was once a brothel. Long ago, when Bridgehampton was part of the East End’s whaling industry, before it grew into a high-end summer getaway, real-estate bonanza and snob haven.
            Then there’s the suburban legend that Old Vic was haunted. Who says? No one and everyone, whether they believe it or not.
            The MediCab was crawling by Old Vic when Lyle first heard the whispers. He rose on his elbows, his chair secured to the van’s floor, and listened. Cats in heat. No, wait. This was more subtle, conversational. A furtive murmur that piqued his curiosity. He needed to listen again.
            “Hey Fred, make a right at the corner, please?”
            “Course correction, Mr. Hall?”
            “I want to circle back for another look at the old house. And Fred, call me Lyle, okay? Lyle is fine.” It had been six months with the same driver.
            Fred made the turn. Any such whim of Lyle Hall’s, he knew, was good for a crisp off-the-books twenty. It was even worth a twenty to stop at the ATM—Lyle would entrust Fred with his debit card and pass code to avoid the hassle. He also let Fred smoke.
            Fred drove around the block clockwise. From each side street Lyle got a view of Old Vic’s battered cupola poking above the trees and roof lines of summer homes. It was unsettling—the cupola, a little booth standing atop the third story, was Old Vic’s most exposed and weather-beaten feature. Any paint was scabby and vestigial. The cupola’s large oval oculus suggested a blinded Cyclops, its leaded glass shattered by determined boys with BB guns long before Lyle was born.
            They turned onto Poplar again, and approached the house.
            “Slow down, please, Fred? Actually, could you park?”
            Fred did so. Odd request, but Mr. Hall is, or was, a real estate tycoon.
            “And roll down the windows, please? And mind turning off the radio? ...Thanks. Cut the engine too, please, Fred? ...Thank you.”
            If Mr. Hall wants to smell Old Vic, Fred figured, this could be worth more than one folded twenty. He glanced at Lyle through his mirror, lit a butt, and texted his wife.
            To the west, clouds glowing orange and pink were eclipsed by the hulking old house. It grew darker. The last of the traffic was now gone. Lyle strained to hear. He tried to listen harder, if that’s possible.
            Quiet. Listen.

About the author:

Ken McGorry has been writing since third grade. (He learned in first grade, but waited two years.) He started a school newspaper with friends in seventh grade, but he’s better known for his 23 years as an editor of Post Magazine, a monthly covering television and film production. This century, he took up novel-writing and Ghost Hampton and Smashed are examples. More are in the works, like the promised Ghost Hampton sequel, but he’s kinda slow.

Ken lives on Long Island with his wife and they have two strapping sons. There are dogs. Ken is also a chef (grilled cheese, and only for his sons) and he enjoys boating (if it’s someone else’s boat). He has a band, The Achievements, that plays his songs (try Back at Manhattan College (English major!), he was a founding member of the venerable Meade Bros. Band. Ken really was an employee of Dan’s Papers in the Hamptons one college summer, and really did mow Dan’s lawn.


Monday, October 24, 2016

Book Blitz: Except of The Witch Singer by Heather Long

Author: Heather Long
Series: Magic & Mayhem, Kindle Worlds
Genre: Paranormal
Publisher: Independent
Format: Digital

Curses. Vampires. Skunks. Allergies. Sore throat. The life of a Witch Singer shouldn’t be this complicated.

After years spent paying off an old debt by working for the vampires, Bridget the Witch Singer receives the opportunity of a lifetime.  Solve on vampire’s oops – he turned the wrong person – and she’s a free witch.  Desperate to win her freedom, she heads to Assjacket to find the solutions to the vampire’s problem and everything goes wrong along the way, including a flat tire, getting sprayed by a skunk and the allergy attack from hell.

Unfortunately, Martin is no ordinary skunk and his spreay is a nervous tick.  She does her best to save the beast when her scream accidentally wounds him and springs him from his curse.  Good news for Martin, not so good for Bridget who can’t get rid of him.  Once in Assjacket, she’s tasked by the BabaYoMama to unite at least two couples and sing at their weddings in order to gain the cure she needs for her freedom.

Only one, small problem – a witch singer with a sore throat can’t perform.

Find out more at: Amazon

You know how, when you’re young, you dream of how your life will go? Sometimes, the crap you watch on TV influences you. You always think they have it better—I mean, who wouldn’t want to be an invulnerable superhero who makes it at the last minute and saves the day? If you were a superhero, did it really matter if you were vulnerable to a bit of meteor rock? The last time I was afraid of a rock collection was, like, never. Too bad I hadn’t been born on another planet then jettisoned to Earth when my planet was destroyed. No matter how ridiculous, I had dreams. Big dreams. I always thought I would be a star. If not of the stage or screen, then at least at every backwater pub, club, and high school dance where someone let me hold a microphone. Hecate knows, I’m a damn karaoke expert.
But nope. No, I have a problem. A wicked temper, salted by way too much sarcasm. I got up on a stage and strutted my stuff. Okay, I was drunk, and it was a dare, but how was I supposed to know that half the audience in that club that night was there ashors d’oeuvres for the local vampire enclave? Did they have a sign out front? No. No, they did not. So there I was, doing my best Sandra Dee impression and rocking out to Summer Lovin’ with this really good looking guy when some jackass in the audience boos us.
Okay, he got up, turned around and farted in tune to the song. Not just offensive, but really profane. It really threw me off my game, so much so that when we got to the part about the true love vow, I said cow. My gift, it’s got some serious kick, and all the mortals in the place—including Mr. Farts-A-Long—were moo-ved along.
Yep, I said moo-ved, ‘cause I crack myself up.
Anyway, long story short, the vampires in the bar were pissed. Beyond pissed. Like metric-nuclear-to-the-max-you-wouldn’t-like-me-when-I’m-angry furious. Fortunately, or maybe not so fortunately, they saw me as asset to be co-opted rather than feasted upon. Of course, it could also have something to do with the fact that the potent herbal teas I drink to protect my very valuable throat also makes my blood taste like ass. Or so I’ve heard.
For the last few years, I’ve been the local enclave’s version of a jukebox. They want jazz? Well, I’m their girl. They want blues? Yep, there I am. Bubblegum rock? Just crank Bridget up and press play.
It’s so effing boring. I got hauled across town in the dead of night, while in my pajamas, my hair is standing straight up—not to mention I lost one of my favorite slippers when Goon One and Goon Two hustled me into the car. If only I didn’t have to wear the stupid choker. If my voice went even a fraction of a decibel above normal conversation, it zapped me.
I tested it once. My hair didn’t comb straight for a week. Not even with product and a flat iron. Again, I digress, the point being… if I could have shattered the vampires’ eardrums, I would have but nope. I ended up standing in the too-plush living room of one Alistair Hethrington Nasty-Face.
Yes, I know. It wasn’t his real name. “Good morning, Mr. Nasty-Face, what can I do for you today?” Keeping them on their toes required a lot more coffee than they’d provided. “Please tell me you want me to take off the collar so I can sing you a lullaby to permanent sleep?”
“Sit down. Shut up. Listen.” Awww, he was in a foul mood.
“Did Mr. Nasty-Face not get a good day’s sleep?” Flopping onto the sofa, I folded my arms and put my feet on his really nice table. Since I was missing a slipper, I’d likely leave a mark on the wood.
“Bridget…” He growled my name. It was pretty sexy, if one discounted his rather disgusting penchant for feeding on blood, his need for dominance, and the overwhelming arrogance in his silk black power suit. “We have an issue.”
“Didn’t do it.” Holding my hand up, palm forward in a show of surrender, I did my best to keep my expression empty of doubt or at least not sneering. “I’ve been home all night. Bridezillas marathon.”  Awesome cat fights, too. The whole brides turning into monsters the closer their wedding day came served as a fervent reminder what a crapfest love could be.
Mr. Nasty-Face sighed then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m shocked no one has ripped your throat out yet…or at least your tongue.”
“Pity I need both to do your dirty work, isn’t it?” Mom used to accuse me of being too confident. On the one hand, I suppose I see her point. I mean why else would I have let the word ‘cow’ slip into my lyrics? I knew what would happen. Then again, the vampires didn’t kill me and, while working for them sucked, it certainly beat the alternative.
Most of the time.
With a baleful look, he stared at me. He might as well have had “shut up” stamped on his forehead or maybe he wanted to stamp it on mine. Either way, I mimed zipping my lips closed then waited.
I wasn’t going to give him long, a fact he seemed to grasp. “I have a job for you, a difficult task to which I believe you are uniquely qualified.”
“Peachy.” I flashed him a view of my pearly whites. Then stopped. I hadn’t actually had a chance to brush my teeth before they dragged me to his house. “What’s the job?”
“Always straight to the point with you.” The vampire sighed then cut his hand through the air. “Fine. I don’t care. Here’s the task. Montague turned a succubus.”
“The fuck you say.” Thank Hecate I didn’t have coffee in hand. I might have choked on it. “You can’t turn other species.”
“Not typically, no.” Mr. Nasty-Face strode across the room, retrieved a file then carried it to me and dropped it on the coffee table. The folder opened to a photograph of a very messy bedroom. Blood stained the sheets, the walls, and something dark and sticky seemed splashed liberally over the carpet. At no point in my existence did I possess a desire to be a crime scene tech or in any way attached to a crime scene.
“Gross.” I flipped the folder closed. Clearing my throat, I gave myself a minute so I didn’t hurl. “How does a nasty photograph tell you a vampire turned a succubus?”
Hands curling into fists, Nasty-Face stalked away to the bar and poured himself a drink. The agitation within him made for short, jerky motions. He slammed the crystal decanter down with enough force, I thought it might shatter. The amber liquid sloshed out of the glass onto the cherry wood counter, but he ignored it.
“Oh…dude.” Real shock rippled through me. “You did it.”
He held up a finger. “Not another word, never repeat that sentence outside of this room. Understood?”
Laughter bubbled up, and I pressed two fingers to my lips to keep it from escaping. As funny as the whole situation might be, Master Nasty-Ass was in a mood. Clearing my throat again, I fought for some semblance of control. “How can I help?”
“And delivered so nicely, too.” Nope, my attitude didn’t fool him a bit. Hey, at least I tried. “I need a solution to the problem. You will reach out to other witches and to Baba Yaga and find out how to reverse the transformation.”
Oh. Was that all? “Really? You just want me to track down the biggest, baddest witch and ask her how to undo something impossible?”
“If anyone knows what to do, it would be the witches. You will find the answer to my problem, and you will fix it.”
“Sounds like you have it all thought out, so forgive me if I’m stepping on your toes, but I see a couple of small problems with that plan.” At his baleful glance, I spread my hands wide. “I’m bound to your enclave, can’t travel out of the state. And, the last I checked, Baba Yaga isn’t a big fan of Texas.”
“That’s an inconvenience, not a problem. The collar will come off for the trip.”
“Dude. Seriously?” He had my attention now. How to play this? How to spin it so it worked for me?
“Yes. I am aware you will need access to your magic.” As if the fact he said the words were all that was needed, the locks on the collar began to turn. I could feel the click clack of it all. “I also know how that brain of yours works. Once the collar is off, all bargains and bets are in the air. I know you, Bridget. You’ll do what’s best for you which means running as far from here as you can.”
No lie. The vampire did know me well. “I bet you’re going to make it worth my while.”
“I will cover all your remaining debts to the enclave.” That was a hefty price tag. “I will certify your freedom from obligation and give you the collar back once the task is complete.”
Give me the collar? The last lock spun slowly, but halted before it was complete. One more lock off and my voice was my own again. As would be my magic and the ability to go anywhere I wanted. “What’s the catch?” I’d been around vampires too long not to look for the secret out they worked into their deals.
“If you fail to complete your task or if you decide to ditch and run, I still have the collar and an entire host of bounty hunters to come after you. Trust me, they will come in force. You might spend the rest of your life running, no matter how short that time might be. Then, when you are caught, the collar will go on with a permanent spell. One that can only be broken when you’re dead and your soul crossed over.”
“I knew there was a reason I called you Nasty-Face.” He ignored the off-hand comment even as I tried to examine the deal from all sides. “To clarify, you take off the collar, I’m free to leave. You want me to go to the Baba Yaga and ask her how to undo an impossible turning of a succubus to a vampire? That’s it?”
“I want you to get the solution so we can perform it and undo the unnatural act from having happened.”
There was the rub. “And if there is no solution?”
“I don’t believe there isn’t one. History dictates turning her shouldn’t have been possible in the first place. Thus, if it is possible to turn her, it must be possible to unturn her.”
Gods and Goddesses, I’m going to hate myself for asking the next question. “Point of order. Don’t you die to become a vampire?”
Nasty-Face hesitated. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d considered that angle. “That’s less important than undoing it.”
“Dude, if you don’t care if the succubitch lives or dies, just pound a stake through her heart and call it good.” Really? Could I just shut up for five minutes? If he took me up on that suggestion, I was right back where I started. Of course, in my defense, I hadn’t had any coffee yet. The man didn’t have any coffee handy that I could see, either. Just liquor.
Maybe I should do shots.

Other Books by Heather Long:
Haunt Me
Recently divorced author MacKenzie Dillon has lost her writing mojo. When she inherits her great aunt's haunted house in Virginia, she is determined to make a new start. The creepy old house provides inspiration but at what cost?
Successful architect and paranormal skeptic Justin Kent returns to Penny Hollow to fulfill his father's dying wish of revitalizing their small town. To do that, he needs the allegedly haunted estate at Summerfield. Mac, the new owner, may be gorgeous and spunky, but she refuses to sell.
These two have a dangerous history that spans the ages, but will they discover the truth in time to save their lives?
Haunt Me Available at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | ARe

Earth Witches Aren’t Easy
He’s supposed to be dead, but he's killing again...

Nearly a decade ago, hedge witch Chance Monroe’s life irrevocably changed. She survived the attack of a serial killer. His death should have set her free.

When her ex-lover shows up on her porch, Chance isn’t ready to hear Randall Oakes is still alive and less prepared for the sea of emotion swamping her. One man wants her dead and the other just wants her. When the FBI offers protective custody, Chance refuses. Connected to the earth, Chance must rely on her supernatural senses and her wits to survive this game of cat and mouse.

In the farm rich countryside of her native Northern Virginia, Chance confronts her troubled past, a supernatural adversary and a sizzling passion that’s lain dormant for years….

This time, she will teach her hunter a lesson: earth witches aren’t easy targets…

Urban fantasy. Previously published as Prime Evil, but has undergone significant rewrite and editing.

Book 8 available at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | ARe

About Heather Long:

National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

Connect with Heather: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Kosmos Christmas Delivery by Deb Kalmbach

Author: Deb Kalmach, Joey Palmberg (llustrator)
Publisher: Chiwalla Press
Date of publication:September 2016

Kosmo, the king of troublesome terriers, takes trouble to a whole new level! He's a one-of-a-kind, corn-on-the-cob nibbling, ice cream licking, always-into-mischief dog. Kosmo's Christmas Delivery is told from the point-of-view of an older, but not necessarily wiser dog, Kramer, who laments the acquisition of Kosmo by his family, especially his girl, Emily Jean. When the inquisitive Kosmo jumps on board the Yellow Package delivery truck a few days before Christmas, Kramer, secretly wishes the pup will be lost forever. He reluctantly agrees to help Emily Jean search the snowy streets of their small town for Kosmo. Through a series of unusual events, the missing terrier finally comes home, but not a moment before his older sibling realizes how much he cares about his young friend.

Christmas is just around the corner! What better way to get ready than a cute Christmas story? Kosmos's Christmas Delivery is about a dog who has to learn how to get along with a new member of the family.  Kramer is not too happy when the family gets a new puppy that they name Kosmos.  He is all too happy when Kosmos disappears, but once the reality settles in, he finds himself missing his new friend.

I don't have small kids anymore, but I know that this would be just the type of story that would have appealed to them when they were little.  The story is adventurous and amusing.  It also has a great message. The illustrations really bring the story to life and fit the scenes perfectly.  I would definitely recommend this one to parents and grandparents of young children.  It would make a great Christmas gift!

Purchase your copy at Amazon!

About the author:

Deb Kalmbach considers herself an "expert" in not-so-perfect marriages. She's passionate about helping other women take one step forward, then another to find healing and wholeness in their lives. Real hope for real life is what Deb strives to communicate to her readers. 

Deb and her husband Randy can see the half-century milestone (a miracle!) for their marriage on the horizon. They live in a tiny town in rural Washington state with Kosmo, their Jack Russell Terrier, who has inspired a new children's book series.

Saturday, October 22, 2016

Blog Tour: Excerpt of Rendezvous With Yesterday by Dianne Duvall

We're so excited to share with you the much-anticipated sequel to Dianne Duvall's A Sorceress of His Own! Rendezvous with Yesterday is newest Gifted Ones novel (a prequel to the best-selling Immortal Guardians series) and is available October 17th, 2016 at all major e-retailers! Find out more about this fall must-read below!  

The Gifted Ones Book 2
By Dianne Duvall
Publishing Date: October 17, 2016
Special Pre-Order Discounted Price—$4.99
Modern-day bounty hunter Bethany Bennett helps her brother track two fugitives to a forest outside of Houston, Texas. But what should have been a routine apprehension of two bail skippers spirals out of control and ends in violence. After Beth and her brother are both seriously injured, a mysterious figure suddenly looms over her. And, when the smoke clears, Beth finds herself not only in another place, but in another time.   As Lord Robert, Earl of Fosterly, attempts to identify and track down the nameless enemy who has been plaguing his lands and people with violence, the most peculiar woman stumbles into his path. Small, vulnerable, yet possessed of a bold, fiery spirit and wicked sense of humor, she persists in dubbing Robert and his men members of something called a medieval reenactment group . . . until she sees his castle and labels herself mad. It seems bounty hunter Bethany Bennett has come to him from the future, bringing with her laughter and chaos, swiftly winning the hearts of his people and inspiring within him a love he thought he would never experience again. But when Robert discovers a way for her to return to her time, will the love they share be enough to keep them together?

Order your copy today!
Kindle Kobo Nook | iBooks | Amazon UK Amazon Canada | Audiobook on Amazon

Enjoy this excerpt!

Beth drew Robert out of the tower and led him across the bailey, swinging their linked hands between them.  “I’m sorry."

“For what?”

Squinting against the descending sun, she sent him a wry smile.  “I’m never going to fit in around here, am I?  I keep forgetting the rules.”

He shrugged.  “You shall learn them all in time.  And once you have, I shall be endlessly entertained, watching you choose which ones you will follow and which you will discard.”

Shouldn’t he be more concerned than that?  “You won’t be angry if I decide to buck the system every once in a while?  You won’t send me packing?”

The pause that followed, she felt, was due more to his need to decipher her meaning than think through his answer.

“Nay, Beth, my feelings for you are not contingent upon you obeying the rules.”  He smiled and raised her hand to his lips for a kiss.  “And I shall only become angry if you place yourself in danger.”

She grinned up at him.  “So, you like me a little, do you?”

“More than a little.”

Good.  Because she was crazy about him.  “You know what?”


“I’ll bet Edward could scare up enough hot water for a bath if we asked him nicely.”

His eyes sparkled with interest.  “Could he now?”

She nodded.  “Of course, there probably won’t be enough to fill two tubs, so we would have to share.”

“With the right incentive, I believe I could resign myself to such a fate,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“The right incentive, huh?  How about…”  Beth stopped.  Moving in close, she slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and into his hair.  “This?”
* * *
Robert’s heart stuttered as Beth rose onto her toes and fastened her lips to his in a kiss so rife with hunger that he forgot they were standing in the middle of the bailey.  Locking his arms around her, he dragged her against him and lost himself in the feel of her.  Her warm, slick tongue stroked his own.  Her full breasts teased his chest.  Her fingers clenched in his hair.  And her hips…

Cupping the back of her head with one hand, Robert slid the other down to urge her hips closer and assuage the ache she inspired.

“Ahem.”  Something thumped Robert’s shoulder.  Hard. 

Reluctantly abandoning Beth’s sweet lips, he raised his head.  Michael’s back swam into focus.  Apparently he had bumped into them on his way to…

Actually Michael did not seem to have any particular destination in mind.  Why had he bumped them?

Blinking, Robert glanced around and gradually became aware of the gaping stares directed their way by virtually every man, woman, and child in the bailey.  A quick look up confirmed the avid interest of the guards atop the walls.  Even the hounds that had been romping with the children seemed to have paused in their play long enough to goggle.

Beth’s face flushed a bright red. 

“We seem to have attracted a bit of attention,” he understated.

“Believe it or not, I only meant to give you a quick kiss.”

Robert smiled.  “If you think I am objecting, you are mistaken, love.”

“Really?”  She plucked at the front of his tunic.  “You aren’t angry?”

“Shall I repeat what I have already told you?  I care not who approves or disapproves.  Were I to receive such a greeting each time I returned home, I would forever be a happy man.”

Pursing her lips, she cast him a flirtatious look.  “But you would be happier if we were both naked in a bath, right?”

Robert groaned and laughed at the same time.  “Unless you wish me to take you here before all of Fosterly, sweetling, I suggest you restrain that wicked tongue of yours.”

“I will do aught with my wicked tongue that you request,” she countered in a sultry voice, nigh making his knees buckle with the passionate images her words evoked.

Latching onto her hand, Robert practically ran up the stairs to the keep, her light laughter following and making him grin.  

And don’t miss the book that started it all!
A Sorceress of His Own (The Gifted Ones, #1) -

6ade4-authorpic_dianneduvallDianne Duvall is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Immortal Guardians paranormal romance series and The Gifted Ones series. Her books have twice been nominated for the RT Reviewers' Choice Award for Best Vampire Romance and are routinely deemed Top Picks by RT Book Reviews, The Romance Reviews, and/or Night Owl Reviews. Reviewers have called Dianne's books "utterly addictive" (RT Book Reviews), "fast-paced and humorous" (Publishers Weekly), "extraordinary" (Long and Short Reviews), and "wonderfully imaginative" (The Romance Reviews).   Dianne loves all things creative. When she isn't writing, Dianne is active in the independent film industry and has even appeared on-screen, crawling out of a moonlit grave and wielding a machete like some of the vampires she has created in her books.   For the latest news on upcoming releases, contests, and more, please visit  You can also find Dianne online . . . Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Tsū YouTube Pinterest | Goodreads | Google Plus
Giveaway Details:
1st Prize— $50 Amazon Gift Card
2nd Prize— $20 Amazon Gift Card
3rd Prize— Signed copies of A Sorceress of His Own and Shadows Strike + swag

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Brought to you by Author’s Taproom

Friday, October 21, 2016

Blog Tour: Excerpt of Tell Me Again by Michelle Major

Author: Michelle Major
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Date of publication: October 2016

As a teenager, Samantha Carlton used a career in modeling to break free from her painful childhood—walking away from her reckless twin sister, an alcoholic mother, and the boy she loved. Yet she never outran the guilt of abandoning her family. When the past shows up on her doorstep in the form of her late sister’s daughter, Sam opens her home and her heart to the girl she never knew existed. But it’s not so easy to face the man she left behind…
Sam had shattered Trevor Kincaid’s heart, and he’d sought comfort in her sister’s arms. But he’d pledged to shield his daughter, Grace, from the drama that followed the Carlton women. Now Grace has tracked down Sam, and Trevor is forced to deal with the one woman he wanted to forget.
History has a way of repeating itself, and the sparks between Sam and Trevor reignite an old flame. But as much as Sam wants a new future, is walking away again easier than risking her heart for a second chance at love?

Find out more at: Amazon

Excerpt from Tell Me Again:
"I need to help you. I need to make it better so we're even."
She nodded. "I can't owe you."
"You don't owe me."
"We have a working relationship I can handle," she said, dropping the towel to her desk and pressing the ice pack between her fingers. She welcomed the burn of the cold against her fingertips. "Then you go and play the hero."
He laughed again. "I'm not a hero."
"That's not how I remember it," she murmured, focusing her gaze on his shirt collar when it became too difficult to meet his eyes.
"What sort of working relationship do we have when you pretend I don't exist any time I'm here without Grace?"
"The kind that doesn't make me crazy."
"Is that how you treat a hero?"
She laughed despite herself. "It is when I'm pretending you don't exist because I want to rip off all your clothes and plaster myself to you every time we're together."
He raised one brow. "That doesn't sound quite right to me."
Embarrassment washed through her, but Trevor stepped into her space, crowding her, when she would have turned away.
"A better idea would be if we both had our clothes off." He traced one finger along the skin above the collar of her baggy t-shirt. "What's fair is fair."
She bit down on her lip and ignored the sparks of desire that skimmed along every single one of her nerve endings. "It was actually a bad idea. Forget I said anything."
"Fat chance," he whispered and brushed his lips across hers.
It only took a second for the kiss to ignite into something hot and hungry. Even though it was the worst idea in the world, Sam lost herself in the feel of him. He tugged her closer, lifting her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his lean hips. He tasted the same as he had years ago, like mint and memories. He was the innocence she'd lost and everything she once longed for.
He kissed her like she was his whole world. It had been forever since she'd felt anything so perfect. His fingers tugged on the hair tie holding her bun in place and then his hands sifted through her hair. His mouth felt like it was everywhere at once--on her lips, her jaw, the sensitive spot just behind her ear that no other man had taken the time to discover.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About Michelle Major:

Michelle Major grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in Journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at

Connect with Michelle: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Book Spotlight: Deliver Her by Patricia Perry Donovan

Author: Patricia Pery Donovan
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Date of publication: May 2016

Author Patricia Perry Donovan weaves her tale flawlessly, testing the boundaries of family and friendship.
On the night of Alex Carmody’s sixteenth birthday, she and her best friend, Cass, are victims of a terrible car accident. Alex survives; Cass doesn’t. Consumed by grief, Alex starts cutting school and partying, growing increasingly detached. The future she’d planned with her friend is now meaningless to her.
Meg Carmody is heartbroken for her daughter, even as she’s desperate to get Alex’s life back on track. The Birches, a boarding school in New Hampshire, promises to do just that, yet Alex refuses to go. But when Meg finds a bag of pills hidden in the house, she makes a fateful call to a transporter whose company specializes in shuttling troubled teens to places like The Birches, under strict supervision. Meg knows Alex will feel betrayed—as will her estranged husband, who knows nothing of Meg’s plans for their daughter.

When the transport goes wrong—and Alex goes missing—Meg must face the consequences of her decision and her deception. But the hunt for Alex reveals that Meg is not the only one keeping secrets.

“A powerful story about a mother’s efforts to save a daughter; a story about love and family and betrayal. A perfect book club book!” — Susan Breen, author of “The Fiction Class” and “Maggie Dove: A Mystery.”

Purchase Links

About Patricia Perry Donovan

Patricia Perry Donovan is an American journalist who writes about healthcare. Her fiction has appeared at Gravel Literary, Flash Fiction Magazine, Bethlehem Writers Roundtable and in other literary journals. The mother of two grown daughters, she lives at the Jersey shore with her husband.

Connect with Patricia Perry Donovan
Patricia Perry Donovan’s TLC Book Tours TOUR STOPS:
Monday, October 3rd: Caryn, The Book Whisperer
Wednesday, October 5th: Just Commonly
Monday, October 10th: Building Bookshelves
Monday, October 10th: Books ‘N Tea
Wednesday, October 12th: Books a la Mode
Friday, October 14th: Kahakai Kitchen
Monday, October 17th: Kritter’s Ramblings
Wednesday, October 19th: Wall-to-Wall Books
Thursday, October 20th: From the TBR Pile
Monday, October 24th: Bibliotica
Wednesday, October 26th: Back Porchervations
Sunday, November 6th: Writer Unboxed – guest post