I should have known I would end up here...
Give me a good book and I'm in heaven. Especially romance, mystery, mayhem, the fantastic and the fey. Give me a laptop and I'm writing any one of these, and not in any particular order.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rosie Green will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Readers will be able to read the whole series on Kindle Unlimited.
Fleeing from a romance gone wrong, Ellie Farmer arrives in the pretty village of Sunnybrook, hoping for a brand new start that most definitely does not include love!
Following an unscheduled soak in the village duck pond, she meets Sylvia, who runs the Little Duck Pond Cafe. Renting the flat above the cafe seems like the answer to Ellie’s prayers. It’s only for six months, which will give her time to sort out her life, far away from cheating boyfriend Richard.
But is running away from your past ever really the answer?
Clashing with the mysterious and brooding Zak Chamberlain, an author with a bad case of writer’s block, is definitely not what Ellie needs right now. And then there’s Sylvia, who’s clinging so hard to her past, she’s in danger of losing the quaint but run-down cafe altogether.
Can Ellie find the answers she desperately needs in Sunnybrook? And will she be able to help save Sylvia’s Little Duck Pond Cafe from closure?
Read an Excerpt
It’s been that kind of a day.
Earlier, when I was taking photos of the duck pond, I was so focused on getting the best shots that I almost came a cropper on the gnarly tree roots protruding through the earth at one end of the pond.
Someone shouted, ‘Careful! They’re treacherous when it’s icy!’ I looked across at a cottage, set all by itself a little way back from the pond, and saw a woman with short white hair in the garden, up a ladder, looking over at me. I waved to show her I was fine and she went back to cleaning the sign that hung above the front door of the quaint, two-storey cottage: The Little Duck Pond Café.
I march across the green, making for that same cluster of oak and horse chestnut trees trailing their branches over the duck pond. If I can just disappear among the trees, out of sight of Zak Chamberlain . . .
My heart is still bumping wildly after my encounter with him as I pick my way along the bank. The early ice is starting to melt, making the ground underfoot muddy – but I’m careful to step over the slippery tree roots this time.
I glance back to check he’s not still there, in the garden. Distracted, I slide on a patch of muddy bank but manage to remain upright.
But next second my foot meets a tree root and this time, I lose my balance, staggering sideways into the pond.
One foot planted in the shallows, I gasp as icy water fills my shoe and shoots up my leg. I try to turn but I’m hampered by the layer of silt underfoot and I can’t halt my momentum. My arms shoot out as I desperately try to get my balance, but the next second, I’m falling – splashing backwards with a shriek into the chilled, green-slime-soup of the duck pond.
About the Author:
Rosie has been scribbling stories ever since she was little.
Back then, they were rip-roaring adventure tales with a young heroine in perilous danger of falling off a cliff or being tied up by ‘the baddies’.
Thankfully, Rosie has moved on somewhat, and now much prefers to write romantic comedies that melt your heart and make you smile, with really not much perilous danger at all – unless you count the heroine losing her heart in love.
Spring at the Little Duck Pond Café is the first in Rosie’s brand new series of novellas centred around life in a village café. Each novella is a ‘stand-alone’ read.
Lanny Larcinese will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Author Interview: Lanny Larcinese
1. How did you choose your genre? What made you write this book?
My belief is that crime writing is a state of mind and orientation toward constant considerations of justice, moral dilemmas, and a view that all people struggle with hidden demons which civilization demands remain constrained.
2. Writers write what they know, and must observe the world. Are you a firstborn, middle or last child and how does this shape your view of the world?
Interesting question. I am the second born with an older brother three years my senior and a sister fourteen years younger. My brother got the brains, my sister the looks, but I got all the luck. And yes, I believe the conventional wisdom that second-borns get less attention and therefore need to develop alternate strategies to establish a place in the family…thence the world. My alternate strategies were: work hard & be funny.
3. Where is your favorite place to write?
At my keyboard at my desk with no distractions at all — no music, ringing telephones, etc. But I am thinking about a story all day, and may also jot notes on notepads, newspaper margins, napkins, etc. Also, I bore everyone else talking about my story dilemmas.
4. How do you feel about killing your darlings, and what do you do with the remains?
I seldom kill them; I just reduce their sentences (if you
get my drift.)
5. You are introduced to your favorite
author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them?
Peter Blauner: Where did you learn to write such graceful
sentences, and if it’s a pill, can I have one?
6. Inquiring minds want to know…tell
readers something about you that no one knows.
Tough question, I’m usually such a big-mouth. Okay, I need
serious editing help. I’m prone to write long, sometimes serpentine sentences
for their musicality, which is dangerous because I don’t have a handle on
syntax and never could diagram a sentence.
7. You are stranded on a deserted island with only a backpack for company. What three items are in your survival pack?
A pencil, piece of paper, and a bottle of Laphroaig (which will serve a double purpose.)
8. If you could have one superpower in your existence, what would it be?
X-ray vision, all day.
9. Favorite snack?
Mixed nuts.
10. Indy 500 – Do you know how to get where you’re going or do you drive the speed limit? I’m the last person in the world who uses AOL and Mapquest. And it took 60 years of driving to learn that everyone else also had a right to get where they were going.
Death in the Family
by Lanny Larcinese
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Crime thriller
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Donny Lentini is a talented young man hungry for his mother’s love. To please her, he becomes guardian angel to his mob-wannabe father. When the father is murdered and found with his hands hacked off, Donny is dealt a set of cards in a game called vengeance. The pot is stacked high with chips; the ante, his soul and the lives of loved ones. With the help of friends—ex-con, defrocked Jesuit Bill Conlon along with former high-school nemesis, Antwyne Claxton—he digs for whether the murder had anything to do with the mob’s lust for a real estate parcel owned by the family of Donny’s lover. He’s new at this game. He doesn’t cheat but plays his cards well. And he gets what he wants.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
There is a purity to poker, moments of truth free of the ambiguity of motive or morals, moments philosophers never examine—clean moments—as when a Great White draws back its lips to embrace somebody’s neck with its four-inch serrated teeth—moments German Kruger never understood and might put his head at risk.
One by one I looked them in the eye. They all dropped except
German, who raised and called. I flipped my hole cards. “Three cowboys.”
I raked in the seven hundred dollar pot. Any day I stuck a
pencil in German’s eye was a good day. “What is it with you?” he said. “You win four, five pots every Friday.”
Dad kicked my shin under There is a purity to poker, moments
of truth free of the ambiguity of motive or morals, moments philosophers never
examine—clean moments—as when a Great White draws back its lips to embrace
somebody’s neck with its four-inch serrated teeth—moments German Kruger never
understood and might put his head at risk .
One by one I looked them in the eye. They all dropped except
German, who raised and called. I flipped my hole cards. “Three cowboys.”
I raked in the seven hundred dollar pot. Any day I stuck a
pencil in German’s eye was a good day. “What
is it with you?” he said. “You
win four, five pots every Friday.”
Dad kicked my shin under the table.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Lanny Larcinese
‘s short work has appeared in magazines and has won a handful of local prizes.
He lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He’s a native mid-westerner
transplanted to the City of Brotherly Love where he has been writing fiction
for seven years. When not writing, he lets his daughter, Amanda, charm him out
of his socks, and works at impressing Jackie, his long-time companion who keeps
him honest and laughing—in addition to being his first-line writing critic. He
also spends more time than he should on Facebook but feels suitably guilty for
it.
Edgar Swamp will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Author Interview: Edgar Swamp
1. How did you choose your genre? What made you write this book?
I wanted to write a book that had three major elements: a creepy little village, an unexplainable catastrophe, and a mystery so densely layered with misinformation that the reader has no idea what is really going on. What I came up with was essentially a mystery but with overtones of horror and fantasy. What compelled this idea was the desire to write something that would keep a reader interested throughout because they just had to know how it ends.
2. Writers write what they know, and must observe the world. Are you a firstborn, middle or last child and how does this shape your view of the world?
I
am the second child of four kids, the only male, and because of this, I got to
have my own room and didn’t have to share any of my GI Joes or Bionic Man toys!
Being the second youngest, I had only one sibling who outranked me (still does
to this day) and two whom I often had to look after. I thank them all for
giving me a well-rounded perspective of the world. At times, I am the one who
needs looking after but can also be the one who you can entrust your care in.
3. Where is your
favorite place to write?
I
have a job in which I travel all the time, so I am one of those writers who can
write anywhere; I have to out of necessity. That said, I like to do it in
private, I am not a coffee shop writer. When I write in public, I am too
distracted because I am such an avid people watcher. I need to be alone in a
room, but that room can be anywhere, and there can be companion animals with me
— in fact, I prefer it!
4. How do you feel about killing your
darlings, and what do you do with the remains?
If
this question means what I think it does, I write within a genre in which there
are always many deaths, so I stack the deck heavily with characters I enjoy
killing. That said, as an element of surprise, there is always a character I
kill that the intended audience won’t see coming, and won’t like. The remains I
scatter to the wind with an Irish blessing of good tidings!
5. You are introduced to your favorite
author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them?
Kurt
Vonnegut comes back from the dead and says he’d like to do lunch. I gladly
accept. While enjoying a tuna melt and a 22-ounce glass of Heineken, I ask him
what it was like to have a family that didn’t like his books and often told him
he should get a real job. I would then prepare myself for what would surely be
a lengthy tirade, given that he is one of the most talented and influential
writers of the 21st century!
6. Inquiring minds want to know…tell
readers something about you that no one knows.
This
is my deepest, darkest secret: I am the host of my very own non-reality show.
Every day, I explore new territory, narrating my random thoughts aloud to an
audience of either: no one, companion animals, or aliens observing me from
space. These musings are political, personal, sexual, and often incorporate a
lot of jokes. I’ve thought of seeing a shrink, but I’m afraid of the psychological
damage it may cause.
7. You are stranded on a deserted island
with only a backpack for company. What three items are in your survival pack?
The first item would be the ultimate Swiss Army knife. It has everything a person needs if they are stranded in the wild, complete with a solar-powered generator, a laptop with Wi-Fi, and a portable chainsaw. The second would be an inflatable female that could also be used as a raft and a bed. The third would be a Kindle with every book ever written on it, with the exception of anything by Jeffery Deaver.
8. If you could have one superpower in your existence, what would it be?
I
would love to have the power to stop time. I’d often daydream about that when I
was in grade school — to be able to stop time and leave and go do something fun
whenever the urge struck me. The hard part would be deciding to start the clock
again!
9. Favorite snack?
Hanover honey mustard and onion pretzel pieces! Dang are they tasty!
10. Indy 500: Do you know how to get where you’re going or do you drive the speed limit?
In reality, I am a very good driver that observes all the laws of the road. As an analogy for life, I like to put the pedal to the metal and give it a thousand percent no matter what it is I am doing. I do know where I’m going, but I’m taking a lot of detours along the way so that I don’t miss anything that might be cool.
Amber Hollow
by Edgar Swamp
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Horror
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
On
July 15, 1991, an isolated village in Northern Wisconsin is ground zero for an
unprecedented, fiery tragedy. Of the community’s 600 residents, there are only
five survivors. Detailed accounts by the victims contradict each other; the
only link is a man named Anthony Guntram, but because he is presumed to be
dead, this claim can’t be verified. Further investigations reveal a culture
enshrouded in mystery. What are the survivors hiding?
Only the villagers know
the secret of Amber Hollow, a place where sanity is checked at the town line
and the parameters of reality become blurred. An unconventional horror story by
design, Edgar Swamp delivers an action-driven page-turner that will keep
readers guessing until the calamitous ending.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
The call came when they were five blocks from St. Mary’s,
blaring from the radio in a raucous hiss of static that made both of them jump.
Sadie looked at Jeremy, and the confusion in her eyes would be almost comical
if the situation wasn’t so dire. He grabbed the handset on the radio, pressed
the button.
“This is Detective Jeremy LeFevre. Please repeat the transmission.”
“There is a ten fifty-six A in progress on the Tower Drive
Bridge, I repeat a ten fifty-six A.”
“We’re two miles from that location,” he said calmly,
although his nerves suddenly felt as if they were live wires spitting enough
electricity to power the entire city. “We’re en route.”
“Ten four,” the dispatcher said, and Sadie flipped a switch
on the dash that fired up the siren. She then grabbed the bubble next to her,
rolled down her window, and tossed it onto the top of the car where the magnet
on the bottom held it firmly in place. For some reason, she always felt like
she was in an episode of Starskey and Hutch when she did that.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jeremy asked his partner.
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know, maybe I’m jumping to more conclusions, but somehow I think this is one call we need to take.” Turned out, he was right.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Edgar Swamp is
the author of the “Gyre Mission,” “Glitch in the Machine,” and “Blackout.” His
short stories have appeared in Alienskin, Macabre Cadaver, and Urban
Reinventors. When he isn’t holed up in his office playing online poker, he
likes to dig up the recently deceased and make furniture out of their skin. He
lives and works in San Diego, California.
1.
How did you choose your genre? What made you write this book?
I’ve
often been asked this question, “Why Medieval time-travel paranormal romance?
Why not Regency, Victorian, or Western?” In truth, I love them all, but my heart
belongs to one. It started when my fingers opened a book about the great Irish
King, Brian Boru (941-1014A.D.). His story is legendary, especially with the
people of Ireland. King Brian led the Irish to the peak of their Golden
Age—from poetry, arts, saints, and scholars. A spark ignited within my soul for
more.
I
sought out tales of knights in shining armor and folk heroes, delving into a
life teeming with richness, though at times harsh and violent. Yet it wasn’t
until I devoured the history of Brian Boru that I became immersed in medieval
life. From there, I treasured tales of life in castles, traveling on horseback,
studying foods and herbs. My list is endless and always growing on medieval
ways. Yes, there are even days when I long to travel back in time and explore
the history, lore, and beliefs.
In
addition, I have a deep fascination with Celtic mythology. I blame it on my own
heritage. It flows in my veins and soul. I’ve given certain magical qualities
to my heroes based on the Celtic legends.
I adore all my secondary characters, and I felt it was time to give the hero, Patrick MacFhearguis his own “happy ever after.” He’s been a secondary character since my first book and series, Dragon Knight’s Sword, Order of the Dragon Knights. I sensed he was brooding at his home in Scotland. What he needed was a wife and a purpose. In truth, he has been a favorite of mine since he stepped into the first story. I wove his castle, Leòmhann, as the center of this love story, along with an ancient yew tree.
2. Writers write what they know, and must observe the world. Are you a firstborn, middle or last child and how does this shape your view of the world?
I’m firstborn in my family. When I was young, I was more the leader of my siblings. Yet as I’ve grown older (and wiser), I find there are times when it’s best to take a step back and let another rule in the family—be it within my own or others.
3. Where is your favorite place to write?
I have this lovely corner in my bedroom that overlooks the garden. I write all my stories on an antique writing desk. I’m surrounded by all my favorite reference books, crystals, stones, and nature. Perfect for me!
4. How do you feel about killing your darlings, and what do you do with the remains?
Ha! I definitely would not call them my darlings, though they were birthed within my mind—more like a thorn in my side. They constantly nagged and spewed their vile acts on everyone. When the time came, they were either stabbed through the heart and burned, or vanquished to another realm until the end of time. Good riddance!
5. You are introduced to your favorite author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them?
Oh, goodness! I have so many. Yet the first author that popped into my mind was Anne McCaffrey. My burning question would be, “Do the Dragons of Pern really exist?”
6.
Inquiring minds want to know…tell readers something about you that no one
knows.
I’m a huge fan of Star Trek, the original series. I’ve attended several conventions and met William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, George Takei, and Nichelle Nichols.
7. You are stranded on a deserted island with only a backpack for company. What three items are in your survival pack? Chapstick, Water, and a Fae crystal. With the crystal, I can contact a Fenian Fae Warrior to transport me back home. Or to the Fae realm. 🙂
8. If you could have one superpower in your existence, what would it be?
The ability to fly. When I watch birds, it seems so freeing to glide through the air—anywhere.
9. Favorite snack? A small handful of almonds and one square of dark chocolate.
10. Indy 500 – Do you know how to get where you’re going or do you drive the speed limit? I’m methodical. I drive the speed limit and read all the directions because I might miss something important or fun along the way.
To Weave a Highland Tapestry
by Mary Morgan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Time Travel/Scottish
Historical/Paranormal
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Patrick
MacFhearguis, hardened by battles won and lost, desires what he can never
have—peace within his heart and soul.
Yet, the ever-meddling Fae weave a new journey for him to conquer—a task
this highlander is determined to resist.
When skilled weaver,
Gwen Hywel, is commissioned to create a tapestry for the MacFhearguis clan, she
embraces the assignment. While seeking out ideas, she finds herself clutching
the one thread that can alter the tapestry of her life and heart.
A man conflicted by
past deeds. A woman with no family of her own. Is it possible for love to
unravel an ancient past, in order to claim two badly scarred hearts? Or will
the light of hope be doused forever?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
His presence loomed from behind her. “If ye will permit me,
I shall roll my knuckles along your back.”
Heat flared instantly up her neck, but Gwen nodded, giving
him permission.
When the first contact of his fist swept across her back,
Gwen let out a moan. Pain and pleasure fought for dominance. She closed her
eyes against the sensation of his healing and seductive touch, allowing her
body to ease from its rigid position.
“Let your limbs relax,” he urged.
“Feels so good,” she mumbled.
He splayed his fingers and massaged the knots along the column of her neck. Delicious pinpricks trickled down her back, along with the melting snow on her head. Gwen knew she presented a wretched sight, but she gave no care. His fingers caressed the top of her spine and wove their way down to both shoulders. By the time he finished, her body was on fire with another type of ache, but her muscles had loosened up. There was no denying the man ignited a spark within her.
Gwen turned around slowly.
He placed his hand above her on the tree, trapping her
against the rough bark with his body. Lowering his head near her ear, he whispered.
“Better?”
The word had her breathing rapidly. Gwen did the unthinkable
and pressed her cheek against him—his beard grazing her face. “Yes.”
“Good,” he breathed the word against her skin and withdrew. He held her captive with the intensity of his gaze—compelling and magnetic.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Award-winning
Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern
California with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to
Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these
countries and vows to return.
Mary’s passion
for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination.
Inspired by her love for history and ancient Celtic mythology, her tales are
filled with powerful warriors, brave women, magic, and romance. It wasn’t until
the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling
by writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life
within her stories.
If you enjoy
history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the
pages of her books.
Austin S. Camacho will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Author Interview: Austin S. Camacho
1. How did you choose your genre? What made you write this book?
I’ve been a major mystery fan since seventh grade, so when I decided to write I wanted to create what I most love to read myself. My private eye, Hannibal Jones, was inspired by The Saint, Travis McGee, Lew Archer, and Phillip Marlowe, among other heroic characters I love. This is his seventh adventure, and it was driven by both the need to do something a little bit different with a missing person’s story and the desire to use a murder method I hadn’t seen before.
2. Writers write what they know, and must observe the world. Are you a firstborn, middle or last child and how does this shape your view of the world?
What a wonderful question! I’m an only child and I think that has prompted me to create protagonists who are loners and find it difficult to rely on anyone else. Hannibal Jones, being mixed race, is an outsider in many situations and tends to trust his own instincts more than anything or anyone else. Not that it always works in his favor. His girlfriend Cindy has said, “That’s my Hannibal: Often wrong, but never in doubt.”
3. Where is your favorite place to write?
I prefer to write in my home office. My desk has been in the family for three generations and has soaked up a lot of positive energy from past owners. The walls are lined with books and I generally write with a good mix of music playing. I lean heavily on classic rock and old R&B but you might hear just about every genre of music mixed in there except country.
4. How do you feel about killing your darlings, and what do you do with the remains? If by my “darlings” you mean those turns of phrase or bits of description we sometimes write that we fall in love with… if they don’t promote the plot or characterization, or if they are edging into purple prose, I have no issue at all with simply deleting them during the third re-write. It never hurts to make my writing tighter. Now, if you mean whole scenes that an editor tells me are unnecessary or distracting, well I have a word document they get dropped into. Any of those scenes might resurface in a future book or become the kernel of a short story later.
5. You are introduced to your favorite author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them? I’ve met most of my favorite writers at various conferences. I’m an absolute fanboy and treasure my selfies with Jeff Deaver, John Sandford, Reed Farrel Coleman, Heather Graham, and other faves. The missing introduction is Stephen King. He seems to me to be an absolute original so my big question for him would be, who inspired him? Who were HIS literary heroes that drove him to write?
6. Inquiring minds want to know…tell readers something about you that no one knows. After being interviewed a few times this gets to be a challenging question. I don’t think I’ve told anyone that I still own all of the original Signet paperback James Bond novels I bought when I was in seventh grade. They cost sixty cents and the print is tiny, but they are keepsakes.
7. You are stranded on a deserted island with only a backpack for company. What three items are in your survival pack?
A serious camp knife (preferably the Randall Model #1 seven and a half-inch blade with micarta handle.)
A flint & steel kit so I can make a fire.
A serious first aid kit.
I would wish every day for paper and a pen, but they won’t help me survive.
8. If you could have one superpower in your existence, what would it be? Only one? Well then, it would have to be the ability to heal illness and injuries. It might not help much against supervillains, but it would really enrich my real life. Of course, I’d have to keep it secret so I didn’t get mobbed by sick strangers or dissected by the bad guys trying to replicate my abilities.
9. Favorite snack? Lays potato chips. No other brand will do. A close second place goes to Chocolove (ginger crystallized in dark chocolate.)
10. Indy 500 – Do you know how to get where you’re going or do you drive the speed limit? I am totally reliant on my GPS so I guess I don’t know how to get where I’m going. And my standard road speed is five mph over the speed limit… until someone passes me. Then I follow that guy. So far the car I was following has always drawn the police attention sparing me the ticket.
The Wrong Kind
by Austin S. Camacho
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Mystery
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
A
distraught woman hires private investigator Hannibal Jones to track down her
daughter who has run away, trying to escape the homeless shelter life her
mother has come to accept. When Hannibal finds Connie Blanco she is entwined in
a gang war and somehow connected to a murder. The corpse is barely cold before
a second murder follows and Hannibal finds himself entangled in a complex plot
revolving around stolen drugs…but who is the mastermind of this twisted scheme?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
As Chico’s foot hit the first step he noticed Sophia for the
first time. Just as his eyes met hers, Hannibal’s right foot thumped into
Chico’s chest, slamming him back into the man whose jacket said he was Dave.
Then Hannibal leaped from the porch, smashing his right fist across Billy’s
jaw. A side stamp dislocated Jimmy’s right knee. Dave swung past Chico and
clipped Hannibal’s cheek. Sophia gasped at the flesh-on-flesh sound of the
blow.
Hannibal blocked the follow-up punch and snapped two crisp
jabs into Dave’s face, staggering him into the tree growing up out of the
sidewalk. Chico tried to slip past Hannibal, still driving for the door.
“Not tonight,” Hannibal said through clenched teeth. Sophia
didn’t think Chico ever even saw the three punches, left-left-right that put
him on his back, barely conscious.
With no standing attackers, Hannibal stepped back up onto
the porch. “That was fun, but now I’m running out of patience with you boys.”
Hannibal reached inside his suit coat, under his right arm, and pulled out a
pistol. He pointed its muzzle down at Chico’s face.
“There is nothing lower than a man who beats his woman, although anybody helping him is mighty close. I’d beat your asses some more, just for fun, but I don’t feel like answering questions at a hospital. Now, all of y’all, drag your sorry asses out of here. And if I ever hear you came back here, or if you tell anybody where this shelter is, I will hunt you down and end you.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Austin S.
Camacho is the author of seven novels about Washington DC-based private eye
Hannibal Jones, five in the Stark and O’Brien international adventure-thriller
series, and the detective novel, Beyond Blue. His short stories have been
featured in several anthologies including Dying in a Winter Wonderland – an
Independent Mystery Booksellers Association Top Ten Bestseller for 2008. He is
featured in the Edgar nominated African American Mystery Writers: A Historical
and Thematic Study by Frankie Y. Bailey. Camacho is also editorial director for
Intrigue Publishing, a Maryland small press.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nan Reinhardt will be awarding a set of six handmade wine charms and a $10 Starbucks gift card (US ONLY) to 5 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
She’s loved him all her life… but will he be there when she needs him the most?
Disheartened and adrift after being written out of a hit TV show, actor Aidan Flaherty returns to his family’s historic winery, where he’s invested some of the fortune he’s made. As the holidays approach, Aidan becomes intrigued with the old showboat that’s dry-docked just east of town… and even more intrigued with the daughter of his former mentor, who now owns it. He decides to buy the boat and restore it to its former glory.
Single mom Holly Santos is back in River’s Edge after her divorce and she is over men in general and actors in particular. If she could only get rid of her father’s old showboat, a source of fascination for her son, Mateo. She never expects her old crush to walk into her tea shop or the fireworks that happen every time they’re in the same room. Can Aidan convince her that he is determined to restore their shared heritage on the showboat and that he’s home to stay?
Read an Excerpt
“Are you done?” He choked out, also not moving back.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, decide, because I’m going to kiss you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m pretty sure I am.” Aidan took a step closer, pressing her against the railing with his body and set his hands on the rail on either side of her.
Her eyes closed and he felt her trembling. Or he was. He couldn’t tell anymore. He was confused and aching. He lifted his hands and took one step back. “Leave, Holly, because I really, really want to kiss you, but I can’t if you’re not all in.”
Holly eyed him with suspicion. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be all in with you, Aidan Flaherty.” With that she reached up and put one small hand behind his head, tugging his face down to hers. Her lips touched his, gently at first, just a whisper of a kiss. When she increased the pressure, the kiss building in urgency, Aidan wasn’t confused anymore. He knew exactly what he wanted.
He pulled her into his arms, thrusting his fingers into the soft hair on the back of her head, holding her still for his mouth while she wrapped her arms around his neck. The flicker of desire that had started when she’d walked onto the deck began to burn inside him, and he slid one hand down her spine to her hip. She was so incredibly tiny, he was almost afraid to hold her.
Almost. But when she touched her seeking tongue to the seam of his lips, he opened for her, tasting coffee and butterscotch and some unique flavor that was intoxicatingly Holly.
About the Author:
Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today-bestselling author of romantic fiction for women in their prime. Yeah, women still fall in love and have sex, even after 45! Imagine! She is a wife, a mom, a mother-in-law, and a grandmother. Nan has been a copyeditor and proofreader for over 25 years, and currently works on romantic fiction titles for a variety of clients, including Avon Books, St. Martin’s Press, Kensington Books, and Entangled Publishing, as well as for many indie authors.
Although she loves her life as an editor, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. Her latest series, Four Irish Brothers Winery, includes A Small Town Christmas, Meant to Be, and the newly released, Christmas with You, all from Tule Publishing. Nan is busy at work on Book 4 of the series, as well as brewing a cozy mystery idea.
Visit Nan’s website at www.nanreinhardt.com, where you’ll find links to all her books as well as blogs about writing, being a Baby Boomer, and aging gracefully…mostly. Nan also blogs every sixth Wednesday at Word Wranglers, sharing the spotlight with five other romance authors and is a frequent contributor the RWA Contemporary Romance blog, and she contributes to the Romance University blog where she writes as Editor Nan.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rusty Blackwood will be awarding an inscribed and autographed softcover copy of “The Perils of Autumn” to be given to three randomly drawn winners (US/Canada only) via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
From the author of the riveting romantic fiction drama, Passions in Paris: Revelations of a Lost Diary, and the celebrated, 5-star award-winning romantic fiction drama, Willow’s Walk, comes the intense romantic drama, The Perils of Autumn.
This page-turner, set primarily in the early 1970s, centers on a young Kentucky woman, Autumn Leeves, born in 1946 to Abigail Leeves, an unwed mother who struggles to make ends meet. By 1970, Autumn graduated nursing school and is sent on assignment by the local hospital to care for the terminally-ill wife of middle-aged English equestrian master, Cyril Landon, owner of Landon Lawns Stables, a most successful thoroughbred racing stable located just outside Lexington, Kentucky in a posh community known as The Meadows.
Duff Taylor, a world-renown jockey who is tops in his field, lives full-time above the tack room at Landon Lawns and enjoys the many benefits it brings, but he also has a dark secret surrounding an unsolved racing incident from his past that he will go to any length to protect.
Autumn arrives at Landon Manor in time to be thrown into the drama and finds herself caught in the ongoing disruption that ensues.
Read an Excerpt
The doorbell of Landon Manor sounded its Call to the Post chime, alerting those inside of a new arrival to the front door as efficiently as if a racing venue’s trumpet was summoning horses to the post. It was the only residence throughout The Meadows known for such a doorbell which was most befitting to its surroundings, as well as one that was forever remembered by those departing a visit to the stately manor. Whenever it sounded, it caused Agnes Harris to shake her head in a disgruntled manner as she fought the urge to gallop toward the door as if she were a late arrival to the lineup. This morning was no different, but she paused long enough to catch her breath while massaging the small of her back before opening the huge ornate door.
“Good morning,” announced the slight young woman standing on the column-lined terrace, gripping a suitcase in her left hand, while straightening her white cap sporting her school’s insignia with her right, “I am Autumn Leeves from Saint Joseph Hospital. I’ve been dispatched to care for Mrs. Alice Landon.”
Extending her right hand, Agnes observed, “Yes, Nurse Leeves, we’ve been expecting you. I am Agnes Harris, do come in.”
Stepping into the impressive foyer, the young nurse couldn’t help but stare about in awe as she had never seen such grandeur. Lowering her suitcase to the marble floor, she took a moment to drink it all in, before she expressed, “My, this is lovely, and I must say the sound of that doorbell is most impressive. It certainly lets one know they are entering the home of an equestrian master.”
Nodding in agreement, Agnes said, “That it does. I’ve heard it multiple times, but it never ceases to elicit the need to lope for the door, ha-ha, and at my age, the loping seems to get slower every day. I’m sure you are most anxious to get settled in your room before meeting Mr. and Mrs. Landon. They are both looking forward to meeting you. You come highly recommended.”
“Well that’s nice to hear,” Autumn acknowledged, and with a smile, she continued, “I hope I can live up to the image that seems to have preceded me. After all, I’m not all that long out of nursing school and have only cared for a few patients in two separate hospitals thus far, but I am looking forward to this assignment.”
The two ascended the impressive, semi-circular staircase leading to the second floor, and proceeded in a westward direction toward the far end of the walnut paneled corridor, that of whose polished walls in between door frames were lined with striking photographs displaying numerous horses in imposing stances, a few with prominent looking jockeys sitting atop them, each proudly wearing the bluegrass green and cream silks of Landon Lawns Stables. Autumn continued along, but as she did her eyes were strangely drawn to a portrait hanging prominently on the wall opposite the door to her room. It was that of a huge black stallion and straddling him in a rather suggestive manner was a slight built, dark-haired jockey attired in Landon silks, and holding a riding crop high above his head in an arch of victory. His face held an expression as if to say he would not be trifled with, lest those doing so would feel his wrath. His brooding dark eyes secured the onlooker’s attention, boring into the camera lens as if they were smoldering embers threatening to erupt into a raging inferno upon the least amount of fanning.
About the Author:
Top ranking romantic fiction author Rusty Blackwood, who chose her plume de nom by combining the colour of her russet hair with her husband’s great, great, Scottish grandmother’s maiden name, was born in St.Thomas, Ontario, Canada on October 5th, and grew up on her paternal grandfather’s farm in the County of Elgin, located in the south-western portion of the province of Ontario.
She acquired her love of literature while still in elementary school where she entered her original compositions into county fairs, school contests, and whatever venue allowed participants in the writing field. She has carried that love ever since and has put it to use many times since becoming a professional writer in 2001.
From the time of youth she has loved the Arts in their many unique forms, she is a graduate with honors in Interior Decorating & Design. She spent many years on the south-western Ontario stage performing with her family’s country music band: The Midnight Ramblers, followed by the country – rock – blues band: ‘MIRAGE’ as an accomplished vocalist, bassist, and rhythm guitarist. She now resides in the cultural city of St. Catharines, Ontario.
M.T. Bass will be awarding a $50 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Author Interview: M.T. Bass
1. How did you choose your genre? What made you write this book?
I don’t choose a genre. I just let the
story take me wherever it goes. So, I end up with books listed in Romance,
Satire, Noir, Suspense, Young Adult, Sci-Fi, and Murder Mystery. I suppose it’s
kind of confusing, but I don’t just read the same thing over and over again so
why write the same thing over and over? Article 15 ended up being a weird
combination of Body Heat, Jack Reacher, Justified, and The Pelican
Brief. I have no clue where this one
fits in. I just knew this story had to be told.
2. Writers write what they know, and must
observe the world. Are you a first born, middle or last child and how does this
shape your view of the world?
I was the oldest of five: two brothers
and two sisters. Of course mom liked me best, which helped, but I’m not sure
about it shaping my view of the world. I write a lot about what I know, like
flying and music. By necessity, though, I there are always a bunch of things in
stories I’m pretty clueless about like lawyers and Navy SEALs and rich,
beautiful and powerful women. That’s where research comes in handy. It’s
important to know about what you write.
3. Where is your favorite place to write?
I’m not particular about where I write,
just that I’m writing. So I can pound out the words at my desk, on airliners,
in hotel rooms, at the library—wherever. I do like starting my day writing when
I’m fresh and undistracted, so a lot of times I grab my iPad and a Bluetooth
keyboard and scribbling in bed.
4. How do you feel about killing your
darlings, and what do you do with the remains?
I don’t. I calmly and politely whisper in
their ear, “Excuse me, could you please come this way.” And I take them to a
special place in Evernote where they can sit quietly while I finish my book.
Sometimes I come back and we have a laugh or two, like, “Good God, man, what
were you thinking?” Other times I call them off the bench for another story.
5. You are introduced to your favorite
author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them?
If Mark Twain and I could get together at
a Panera’s for a cup of coffee and maybe a bagel, I’d really like to ask him
how he feels about his work being attacked, shunned and even banned due to
modern day “political correctness.”
6. Inquiring minds want to know…tell
readers something about you that no one knows.
There was a time in the 1980s when the
airlines were desperate for pilots with all the World War II guys retiring. I
thought, “What the hell,” and passed my Boeing 727 Flight Engineer written test
and started sending out applications.
Alas, no takers. But it turned out okay in the end.
7. You are stranded on a deserted island
with only a back pack for company. What three items are in your survival pack?
My iPad mini, a solar-powered battery
charger and the Bible.
8. If you could have one super power in
your existence, what would it be?
To be able to look back on things and
truly understand what the hell happened.
You see, not even my hindsight is 20/20.
9. Favorite snack?
Popcorn.
10. Indy 500 – Do you know how to get
where you’re going or do you drive the speed limit?
Mario
Andretti said, “If everything seems under control, you’re not going fast
enough.”
I’m not sure where the finish line is, but I’m driving like hell to get there with the top down and my radio turned up to eleven.
Article 15
by M.T. Bass
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Mystery
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
“She was one in a
million…and the day I met her I should have bought a lottery ticket instead.”
***~~~***
Griffith Crowe, the “fixer” for a Chicago
law firm, falls for his current assignment, Helena Nicholson, the beautiful
heir of a Tech Sector venture capitalist who perished in a helicopter crash
leaving her half a billion dollars, a Learjet 31, and unsavory suspicions about
her father’s death. As he investigates, the ex-Navy SEAL crosses swords with
Helena’s step-brother, the Pentagon’s Highlands Forum, and an All-Star bad guy
somebody has hired to stop him. When Griff finds himself on the wrong side of
an arrest warrant he wonders: Is he a player or being played?
Lawyers and Lovers and Guns…Oh, my!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
She was one in a million…and the day I met her I should have
bought a lottery ticket instead.
Blonde, slim and well-built, of course, her eyes were darkly
blue which, when unsheathed from behind her Jackie Ohhs, glinted like gun metal
at twilight.
I noticed when we first met.
I ignored it after the first time we made love.
I caught it again as she testified against me.
I suppose, I’ll just never learn.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
M.T. Bass is a scribbler of fiction who holds fast to the notion
that while victors may get to write history, novelists get to write/right
reality. He lives, writes, flies and makes music in Mudcat Falls, USA.
Born in Athens, Ohio, M.T. Bass grew up in St. Louis, Missouri.
He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University, majoring in English and Philosophy,
then worked in the private sector (where they expect “results”) mainly in the
Aerospace & Defense manufacturing market. During those years, Bass
continued to write fiction. He is the author of eight novels: My Brother’s
Keeper, Crossroads, In the Black, Somethin’ for Nothin’, Murder by Munchausen,
The Darknet (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #2), The Invisible Mind (Murder by
Munchausen Mystery #3) and Article 15. His writing spans various genres,
including Mystery, Adventure, Romance, Black Comedy and TechnoThrillers. A
Commercial Pilot and Certified Flight Instructor, airplanes and pilots are
featured in many of his stories. Bass currently lives on the shores of Lake
Erie near Lorain, Ohio.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kristal Dawn Harris will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Forensic photographer, Dena Williams, has spent her life trained to see what others cannot. Vampire, Dimitri Kovac, has waited every Christmas for a miracle that does not come. In the Oregon wilderness, during a snowstorm, these two destined souls collide. Dena’s only hope of survival rests in a vampire with the heart of a poet. Dimitri only has five days to win a skeptical woman’s heart. As the Christmas tree lights burn brightly and the snow continues to fall, will Dena succumb to a vampire’s charms? With so little time, can Dimitri win her love?
Read an Excerpt
Dena stood her ground waiting until he stopped directly in front of her-toe to toe. Her eyes lifted from his broad chest to his face. His breath caressed her skin in whispery touches. This close she could see the small lines around his eyes and the long length of his eyelashes. She’d photographed numerous crime scenes and witnessed the arrest of several criminals, so she knew the eyes of a killer. This man did not have those eyes. Predator yes. Murderer no. The sea-blue depths emanated tranquility, but there was something else there as well.
Trained to see things others didn’t, Dena’s head tilted while studying him trying to see what evaded her eyes. Engrossed in his features, almost drawn to him on a level her mind didn’t understand, her body leaned forward. He didn’t move away, but his pupils tracked every move she made. Dena focused on his eyes letting her own senses expand. Something was different in those sea-blue depths. They say the eyes are the mirror to the soul, but his seemed more like a mask. Her body jerked when the black of his pupils bled into the white until his sockets completely blacked out, then shifted back to their normal sea-blue color. Curiosity led her. One foot slid between his as she moved even closer until their bodies brushed. For some odd reason, she wasn’t afraid. “What are you?”
About the Author:
Kristal Dawn Harris is an American author, born in Middletown, Ohio. She currently resides in Ohio with her husband. Kristal has been married for 27 years and has two children. She graduated from Carlisle High School, then furthered her education at Miami University. She has a business degree in Accounting Technology. Kristal spent twenty years working as an Office Coordinator in the hospital until she released her debut novel, “The Rings of Faolan-Emeralds,” through The Wild Rose Press.
In 1999, Kristal suffered a debilitating disease called “Guillain-Barre Syndrome.” This rare disease damaged the nerves in her body requiring the use of drop-foot braces in order to walk. Kristal considers herself a survivor and encourages anyone with a disability to follow their dreams.
Kristal is considered a hybrid romance author since she published “Hand-Carved Wolf” and “Thief of Hearts” on her own. Kristal is an avid reader who enjoys romance from all genres, but paranormal is her favorite.
CURRENT BOOKS BY KRISTAL DAWN HARRIS
The Rings of Faolan-Emeralds
The Rings of Faolan-Rubies
Hand-Carved Wolf
The Burn
The Red Heart
Thief of Hearts
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ella Quinn will award a $25 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Polite society has its rules for marriage. But for Ella Quinn’s eligible bachelors, their brides will show them that rules are for the faint of heart . . .
Phoebe Stanhope is not a typical Lady. As feisty as she is quick witted, no one can catch her, especially when she is driving her dashing phaeton with its perfectly matched horses. And unlike her peers, experience has guarded her against a growing list of would-be suitors. But when she encounters Marcus Finley, what she fears most burns deep within his blue-eyed gaze . . .
For Lord Marcus, the spark of recognition is but a moment in the love he has held these many years. Now that he’s returned to England, all the happiness he desires rests on Lady Phoebe never finding out that he was the one who turned her heart so cold and distant. He must work fast to gain the advantage—to convince her what she wants is exactly what she denies—but in order to seduce her into his arms, he must be willing to give up more than he can control . . .
Read an Excerpt
Saturday morning, Phoebe and her aunt visited Madame’s. Phoebe’s purchases included new walking and carriage gowns, which naturally required new hats to match.
As she left the milliner’s shop in Bond Street, looking down to fasten her gloves, she was knocked off her feet. A pair of powerful arms grabbed her from behind to steady her, then, as if she were a rag doll, she was suddenly pulled back against his equally strong hard male body.
Phoebe gasped as the tremor ran down her spine. Her senses seized with some emotion she did not immediately recognize, and she was overcome with a strange desire to melt against the person holding her.
A deep voice, one she’d heard before, lightly cursed inconsiderate boys. At the same time the man appeared to deliberately release her.
Which, to Phoebe’s surprise, was not at all what she wanted.
She turned, to thank her rescuer, and gazed up into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen. The shade reminded her of the color of the water in paintings of the tropics. Turquoise.
The effect was enhanced by his deeply tanned visage, as he stared down at her. Small lines creased the corners of his eyes, and he smiled with perfectly molded lips.
Phoebe’s breath came fast and she tried to slow her heart, which had decided to dash off madly. Dragging her gaze from his lips, she took in his lean, rugged face, and aquiline nose. A lock of dark sable hair fell over his broad forehead. His eyes warmed the longer he looked at her. He was magnificent.
Phoebe’s arms and back tingled with the memory of his touch.
Why was it she’d never noticed him before?
Marcus had been approaching a milliner’s shop when a youth, running unheedingly down the street, almost hit him. Just at that moment, a young lady stepped out of a shop door. The lad bumped into her, perilously knocking the woman off her feet. Marcus immediately reached out to keep her from falling and almost dropped her altogether.
The moment Marcus touched her arms, his hands shook with a tremor so violent he’d pulled her sharply against his chest, causing an even greater vibration to pass through him. He didn’t even have to look at her to know it was his Phoebe.
Bracing himself for her shock and anger at finding herself in his arms, he slowly, deliberately released her. Lady Phoebe stared up at him and he was lost in her eyes, an intense sky blue. He smiled down and couldn’t let go of her gaze.
Phoebe’s soft feminine curves still made his hands tingle, even though he was no longer touching her.
She returned his smile with one of her own. “Thank you so much for rescuing me. I was quite knocked off my feet.”
Still lost in her, he blinked. She wasn’t running away, and she hadn’t hit him. Good Lord, she hadn’t recognized him. He wasn’t about to set her straight, not yet any way. “It was entirely my pleasure. I am not often able to rescue a damsel in distress.”
Phoebe’s chuckle was soft and breathy. “No, I suppose not, at least not in Bond Street. You must be my knight-errant.”
A position he would gladly hold. “Milady.” He bowed, bringing her hand to his lips. Her fingers fluttered as he pressed a soft kiss on them. He continued to hold both her gaze and her hand after he’d kissed it. This was too good to be true. She didn’t know him. He longed to take her into his arms again. Tell her she belonged with him. But that’s how this whole conundrum began.
Ignoring propriety, she said, “I am Lady Phoebe Stanhope.”
Just at that moment an older woman arrived. “Phoebe, what . . . ?”
“Oh, Aunt Ester.”
He held Phoebe’s gaze and though she spoke to her aunt, she looked at him. “I was almost knocked of my feet by—by a—a . . .”
His smiled deepened. “A reckless boy.”
She’d given him her name, but if he told her his, she’d leave him.
Nodding, Phoebe kept her eyes on his. “Yes, very reckless, and this very kind gentleman rescued me from falling.”
If Lady Phoebe would allow it, Marcus would ask nothing more than to spend the rest of his life protecting her.
About the Author: USA Today bestselling author Ella Quinn’s studies and other jobs have always been on the serious side. Reading historical romances, especially Regencies, were her escape. Eventually her love of historical novels led her to start writing them.
She is married to her wonderful husband of over thirty years. They have a son and two beautiful granddaughters, and a Great Dane. After living in the South Pacific, Central America, North Africa, England and Europe, she and her husband decided to make their dreams come true and are now living on a sailboat. After cruising the Caribbean and North America, she completed a transatlantic crossing from St. Martin to Southern Europe. She’s currently living in Germany, happily writing while her husband is back at work, recovering from retirement.
