Blair McDowell: Romantic Road

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http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/03/vbt-romantic-road-by-blair-mcdowell.html

Blair will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

Author Interview

1. Woohoo! You are a published author. Describe a strong character trait you possess, good or bad, and how it helped you become a published author. I believe in myself. I believe I write interesting stories, peopled with believable characters. This belief sustained me through two years of rejections of my first novel, The Memory of Roses. I knew I would eventually find a publisher or an agent, and I did.

2. Sometimes an author begins writing a story before they are aware of its genre. Did you choose your genre, or did it choose you? I have sort of slipped gradually into my genre. I write romantic suspense. I’m aware of that now. I wasn’t aware of it when I wrote my first book, but even that one, had elements of suspense.  Now, with Romantic Road, and with my work in progress, “Where Lemons Bloom”, I am firmly grounded in the genre.

3. The plot thickens, or does it? Which one are you, a pantser or a plotter? I am very much a plotter. I work with a chapter by chapter outline. But every once in a while one of my characters just refuses to follow the plan. I change the outline when that happens.

4. Fear 101: As writers it is our duty to make our characters face their fears. Have you ever included one of your own fears in a storyline? Of course. How can anyone write well about something they haven’t experienced or feared experiencing? In the opening lines of my work in progress, “Where Lemons Bloom”, a character is drowning. I swim. I love swimming in the ocean. I fear drowning. I’ve been tumbled more than once by an unexpected wave.

5. Fear 102: Yes, deadlines are terrifying. Have you conquered the juggling act between writing and the rest of your life? What do you do when it feels like the balls are dropping all around you? I run a B&B summers. Talk about my time! But I write afternoons. I’ve become a past master of stopping mid-sentence when I have to, and picking up again later. Life does interfere.

6. Switch positions with one of your main characters in a scene. What is the outcome, disaster or divine intervention? If I were Ian in “The Memory of Roses”, the whole plot would have changed. I’d have stayed with Maria and to hell with my cold, unfeeling wife.

And there wouldn’t have been a novel.

7. Where is your favorite place to write? Add that one comfort food that you can’t do without. In Canada, it’s in my comfy recliner with a lap board. In the winter I retreat to my home on the tiny Caribbean island of St. Eustatius.  There I write on the veranda, where I can see the sea and watch the birds at their feeder. In Canada I drink hot apple cider. In the Caribbean, pineapple juice (occasionally with rum).

8. Writing inspirations? Places. Interesting wonderful places always seem to suggest stories to me.

  • Corfu –  We were there for eighteen days. The story came to me almost completely before we left. “The Memory of Roses”.  
  • The Romantische Strasse in Germany, “Romantic Road”.
  • The Amalfi Coast of Italy, my work in progress, “Where Lemons Bloom”.  

I’m in a place and my mind says “What if…”
9. You are introduced to your favorite author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them? The hardest part of this question for me is “favorite author”.  I have too many.  It depends upon what kind of book.  Let’s say I choose detective fiction. The author would be Donna Leon. And my burning question would be “How have you managed to create and sustain one brilliant character through-out19 books?”

I wish I could manage even a three book series. I think in complete stories. I’d like to write series but can’t seem to do so.

10. I’ve gone mad – why don’t you come with me? Some people just don’t understand us writers. Name a quirky, writer-thing you do that friends wish you didn’t. I carry a notebook with me at all times. I write down snippets of conversations I overhear on buses and in restaurants. I try to write dialects and unusual accents down. I talk to waiters and hotel clerks and anyone else I can get to talk to me when traveling and make notes as they talk to me. It drives my traveling companions mad. But it’s all grist for the mill.

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Romantic Road

by Blair McDowell

Blurb:

When Lacy Telchev buries her husband she finds herself in treacherous waters. Igor, much older than Lacy, had secrets. Suddenly Lacy is being chased across Europe by men who believe she can lead them to those secrets. Evading her pursuers with the aid of a chance acquaintance, the handsome and mysterious Max Petersen, Lacy travels across Germany, Austria and Hungary, to a shattering discovery in Budapest.

Along the way, she meets three women from Igor’s past. As Igor’s story unfolds through them, Lacy is less and less certain who her husband really was. Who can Lacy trust? Will she survive to find out?

 

Excerpt:

They were leaving the hotel when Lacy grabbed Max’s arm. “Stop!”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a man waiting at the station.”

Max looked at him. “The one in the raincoat?” “He’s one of the men who threatened me back in the Berkshires that night. And then again in Wurzburg.”

“Are you sure?”

“What’s he doing here?” Lacy’s voice rose on a note of hysteria. “How did they find me? Why are they doing this to me?”

As Max studied him, the man was joined by his partner.

“You’re with me, Lacy. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You must believe me. These people have no authority here. Now, let’s just go take the train down the mountain. We’ll lose them when we get off, I promise you.”

“Didn’t you say it was possible to hike down?” “Yes, but…”

“Please, Max. I don’t want to be anywhere near them. I don’t want them to see me.”

 

AuthorPhoto_RomanticRoadAuthor Bio and Links:

Blair McDowell wrote her first short story when she was eleven and has never ceased writing since, although only recently has she been able to return to her first love, writing fiction.  During her early years, she taught in universities in the United States, Canada and Australia, and wrote several highly successful books in her field.

Her research has taken her to many interesting places.  She has lived in Europe, Australia, the United States and the Caribbean and Canada, and spent considerable time in still other places, Iceland, the Far East, and the Torres Strait Islands off the coast of New Guinea. Now she travels for pleasure. Portugal, Greece and Italy are favorite haunts.

Her books are set in places she knows and loves and are peopled with characters drawn from her experiences of those places.  The Memory of Roses takes readers to the Greek Island of Corfu, where a young woman finds her future while searching for her father’s past.  In Delighting in Your Company, the reader is transported to a small island in the Caribbean, with a heroine who finds herself in the unenviable position of falling in love with a ghost.  The setting for Sonata is the city of Vancouver, with its vibrant multicultural population and its rich musical life, and the heroine is a musician who finds herself in unexpected danger.

In her most recent release, Romantic Road, Lacy Telchev, is pursued along Germany’s famous Romantische Strausse as she follows clues left by her late husband in order to solve a mystery that she doesn’t understand, while being chased by dangerous and cunning adversaries.

She hopes her readers will enjoy reading these books as much as she enjoyed writing them.

Blair is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Romance Writers of America (Greater Vancouver Chapter),  the Romance Writers of America (Women’s Fiction), and The Writers’ Union of Canada.

 

Contact, Website, etc.

Website:  http://www.blairmcdowell.com/

Blog:       http://blairmcdowellauthor.blogspot.ca/

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807790.Blair_McDowell

Visit my  Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/BlairMcDowellWriter

Visit me at  Twitter  https://twitter.com/mcdowell_blair

Visit my  Google+  https://plus.google.com/b/105171661057794970957/+BlairmcdowellAuthor/posts

 

Buy Links:

Barnes & Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/romantic-road-blair-mcdowell/1121115819?ean=2940149950683

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Romantic-Road-Blair-McDowell-ebook/dp/B00RGWK7GW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1420912707&sr=1-1&keywords=romantic+road+blair+mcdowell

AllRomance.com:  https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-romanticroad-1722205-149.html

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Kathryn Elliot: Adding Lib

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http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/03/vbt-adding-lib-by-kathryn-elliott.html

Kathryn will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

Welcome Kathryn Elliot to the blog with her new release! But first, enjoy this entertaining interview from@CandidKathryn – you like that, huh? I couldn’t resist. 🙂

 

Author Interview

  1. Woohoo! You are a published author. Describe a strong character trait you possess, good or bad, and how it helped you become a published author. Woohoo – yep, that about sums it up! Not sure if this is a character trait or physical deformity, but I’ve got a tremendously thick skin; I’m talking flame-retardant leather. You can’t write for a living and take the slightest criticism to heart; you won’t survive. Early on I found a good skin-thickening cream helps toughen up – Jose Cuervo makes a nice one.
  1. Sometimes an author begins writing a story before they are aware of its genre. Did you choose your genre, or did it choose you? I suppose women’s fiction chose me; it’s a blissful deviation from my day writing as a local journalist. Humor and romance offer a welcome respite from the more heartbreaking story assignments. Life needs more love and laughter.

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  1. The plot thickens, or does it? Which one are you, a pantser or a plotter? Oh, how I wish I could proudly claim plotter rights, but alas, sixteen years of Catholic school creates deep-rooted guilt – I cannot tell a lie. I’m a pantser all the way; a fly by the seat of my yoga hip-huggers girl, and a note-jotter more than anything. My desk, kitchen table, car – all littered with random scraps of paper with character development angles and plot twists. Although, my worlds often collide and those same scraps have grocery lists. I live in fear one of the kids in swim carpool will pick up a scrap on the way to practice and ask why Mrs. Elliott needs bread, milk and a free STD clinic.

4. Fear 101: As writers it is our duty to make our characters face their fears. Have you ever included one of your own fears in a storyline? Absolutely. My family has an extensive history of Alzheimer’s and dementia; I knew in Adding Lib’s fledgling stages my fears would cross boundaries into the storyline. There is something cathartic about addressing a life-altering disease from a third person perspective, there’s a clarity achieved when you’re the observer.

There are two clearly defined schools of thought on writing, each with true benefits; write what you know, or write outside your comfort zone. In this case, the schools of thought collided. After Adding Lib’s first draft I realized it’s not only OK to laugh during life’s biggest struggles, it helps – humor heals.

5. Fear 102: Yes, deadlines are terrifying. Have you conquered the juggling act between writing and the rest of your life? What do you do when it feels like the balls are dropping all around you? I’ve got more balls in the air than centerfield at New York Yankees batting practice; it won’t stop, I don’t want it to. I’m one of those ridiculous people who thrive on deadlines and overscheduling, Libby and I share that trait.

  1. Switch positions with one of your main characters in a scene. What is the outcome, disaster or divine intervention? Although I identify most with Libby and her manic life, I think I’d switch places with Caroline, her best friend.

Part of a good story is developing secondary characters and the love story between Caroline and Sean, Libby’s older brother is one of my favorite parts of the book. Sean is my romantic fantasy, grounded and gorgeous. If I were Caroline – I would have pounced on him much quicker. Definitely divine. 😉

7. Where is your favorite place to write? Add that one comfort food that you can’t do without. When we bought our current home my husband, a planner to the core, weighed out the bedrooms, child potential, heating options..blah, blah, blah…boring! I fell in love with the screened in back porch, it’s my writing haven. Surrounded by nature and neighborhood domesticity, the space calms me, and trust me, with my type-A personality that’s no easy task.

Oh, and a food I cannot do without – cheese, in any form. (I need a dairy intervention.)

8. Writing inspirations? I’m a people watcher; not in a creepy cease-and-desist way, more of a gentle park-bench-observer. I find a lot of my ideas develop watching the interplay of relationships in varying social situations. For instance, Dolores, Libby’s boss at the library is a culmination of several different sassy seniors I had the privilege of spending time with as part of our local library’s Booked For Lunch program. Those women know how to host a bake sale!

Setting and location inspirations tend to develop as a result of travel. Now that my kiddos are older, the “baby” being 14, my husband and I like to day-trip whenever possible. Unfortunately, my dreaded-ethical accountant says spa visits to the Caribbean are not a work related expense. Dream killer!

  1. You are introduced to your favorite author. Who is it, and what is that one burning question you must ask them? Hands down, Diana Gabaldon, and I have had the honor of meeting Herself. I believe my exact words were, “Uh..you good…me like…sign book please.” Nothing beats sounding like an illiterate cave-dweller when meeting your idol – proud moment.

What I should have asked, my burning question: At what point in your writing career did you say, yep, this is what I’m meant to do? I think anyone who writes, regardless of genre wonders if they’ll ever be good enough. Doubt is human.

  1. I’ve gone mad – why don’t you come with me? Some people just don’t understand us writers. Name a quirky, writer-thing you do that friends wish you didn’t. I don’t know that I have any quirks that bother friends, but I do have a personal, albeit embarrassing one.

And again, I’m going to blame this on one Catholic school.

I love steamy sex scenes as much as the next gal, but I can only write smolder behind a locked door. If someone stumbles upon my smut-crafting I need time to save-and-store the thrusts and grunts before my hedonistic prose are exposed to the likes of visiting in-laws or furnace repairmen.

Lovely to chat, and thanks so much for having me, Danita! I hope Adding Lib brings love and laughter.

 

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Adding Lib

by Kathryn Elliott

Blurb:

Libby O’Rourke has a short fuse. Her mother, Mae, carries a big match. Engulfed in the never-ending life-juggling of suburbia, Libby fails to notice Mae’s emerging dementia symptoms until a kitchen fire puts the problem on the front burner.

Proficient in the art of denial, Mae brushes the shattering diagnosis aside and sets her sights on a matchmaking crusade for her eldest son. After all, if her lucid days are numbered, Mae’s going to make damned sure he makes it down the aisle while she still recognizes the groom.

It’s going to take a razor wit and an iron stomach to handle Mae’s diagnosis. Thankfully, just like her mother Libby has both.

 

Excerpt:

At three o’clock, excess wine and a bladder weakened by two pregnancies woke Libby from a sound sleep. She crept to the bathroom as quietly as two-hundred-year-old floor boards would allow and, on the way back, noticed the phone’s blinking message light.

“Crap.” Mae’s message taunted from the answering machine. “What to do?” she said to herself. “Check it, or go back to bed?” Years of maternally ingrained guilt won out as she pressed play.

“Hi Lib,” Mae’s recorded message played. “It’s your mother.”

“Color me surprised.” Libby groaned.

“I just got back from my visit with Dr. Cooper. You remember him, he removed Daddy’s planter’s wart.”

“TMI Mom, TMI.”

“Anyhow, he did a splendid job with my colon and said I had none of those dirty pollocks.”

“Polyps, unless you’ve got a ten-foot abstract in your small intestine.”

“You can watch now. Did you know that? They have a camera in your bum the whole time, fascinating really. Anyway, a few of my other test results were a bit off, and he wants me to see a neurologist for some silly reason. Nothing to worry about, just a little blip to check out. Anyhow, I need someone to take me for the appointment, and I was hoping you could find the time. If not, don’t worry, I’ll call your brother Sean. I’m sure he can drop anything less important than his mother.”

“Of course. He’s Jesus.” Libby’s eyes rolled.

“Take care, sweetie. Call me when you can, love to all.”

Libby replayed the message and returned to bed. Blip speculation haunted her dreams.

 

Author Bio and Links:

Kathryn Elliott is a lifetime journalist with awards in political satire, human interest, and commentary. A Connecticut native, she is a happily married mother of two sons with high hopes one of them will pay for a delightful rest home.

A true believer in laughter’s healing power, Kathryn writes characters whose flaws resonate with readers long after “The End.”

ADDING LIB is her debut novel, and the first in The McGinn Series.

 

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/KathrynElliottAuthor?ref=bookmarks

TWITTER: @CandidKathryn

BLOG LINK: http://candidkathryn.com/

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5961246-kathryn-elliott

 

Buy Links:

The Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=191&products_id=6006

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Adding-Lib-Kathryn-Elliott/dp/1628306408/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1416509045&sr=8-1&keywords=adding+lib

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/adding-lib-kathryn-elliott/1120959745?ean=2940149968862

iBook: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/adding-lib/id946791906?mt=11

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Tanya Stowe on Tour: Sedona Sunset

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http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/03/blurb-blitz-sedona-sunset-by-tanya-stowe.html

Tanya will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

BookCover_SedonaSunset

Sedona Sunset

by Tanya Stowe

Blurb:

After an auto accident leaves her crippled and takes her mother’s life, Lara Fallon completes her mother’s dream of opening a school and offering scholarships to promising young artists. Although Lara is struggling with survivor’s guilt, she is thrilled that Alexander Summers, world-renown Flamenco player and professor of art, will perform at the grand opening of The Fallon School of Art. But Alex has a secret. He investigates art theft for UNESCO, and when pieces of Chaco pottery suddenly appear on the black market, Alex is certain The Fallon School of Art is a cover for this illegal operation. He’s determined to uncover the link…even if it means romantically pursuing the lovely Lara Fallon. Alex’s investigation leads him on collision course with Lara’s inner struggle to cope with her mother’s death and her own wavering faith in God. Now, Lara’s school and her heart are in danger. But is her life as well?

 

Excerpt:

“La Guitarra is magic,” Alex said, his voice soft. “It reaches out to some people. Not everyone feels compelled to touch it as you just did.”

“I know the value of rare antiques. It doesn’t mean I’m hopelessly romantic.”

He smiled. “Romantic? Perhaps not. Passionate? Definitely.”

Lara laughed. “Now, there you are most definitely wrong.”

“Am I?”
His serious tone made the laughter die inside her. With his chin, he nodded toward the center of the house where most of the guests were gathered. “This house is full of charming people. Inside are incredible jewels, gowns women would kill for, and if your interests are as true as you say, antiquities to rival any collection. And yet, here you are, alone, on a balcony, watching one of nature’s most spectacular creations. A sunset.” He shook his head. “Trust me. I know true passion when I see it.”

 

 

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Author Bio and Links:

Tanya Stowe is an author of Christian Fiction with an unexpected edge. She fills her stories with the unusual…gifts of the spirit and miracles, mysteries and exotic travel, even an angel or two. No matter where Tanya takes you…on a journey to the Old West or to contemporary adventures in foreign lands…be prepared for the extraordinary.

 

 

Website: www.tanyastowe.com

Twitter: @TanyaStowe1

FB: https://www.facebook.com/TanyaStoweReadersPage?ref=hl

Buy Link: http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=656

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Tanya-Stowe/e/B003UDYONS/

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/tanya-stowe

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Ann W. Jarvie: The Soul Retrieval

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http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/04/super-book-blast-soul-retrieval-by-ann.html

The author will award a $75 Amazon/BN gift certificate to a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter.

 

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THE SOUL RETRIEVAL

by Ann W. Jarvie

 

NOTE: The book will be free on Amazon on May 12, the date of the book blast!

 

Blurb:

Inspired by a true story, The Soul Retrieval is a suspenseful tale of love, loss and healing which follows traumatized southern beauty Henrietta Clayborn as she moves between her home in a small South Carolina town and the New Mexico Native American reservation whose spontaneous healings keep drawing her physician husband back. Tortured by her awful secrets, Henrietta struggles to thrive in either locale, but it is her unlikely friendship with Joe Loco––an eccentric Native American mystic with an Elvis fetish and a gift for healing––that shows her the way to be whole again.

Set in the late 1950s, The Soul Retrieval is richly woven with spiritual insights but also deadly secrets, forbidden healings, a murder mystery, stunning scenery and an unforgettable cast of characters.

A story of transcendent and inspiring power that is both entertaining and enlightening, readers will be cheering for the uptight woman from South Carolina to push through her fears of the forbidden as she searches for truth and healing, faces great obstacles on the frontier of self and ultimately becomes more than she ever thought possible.

 

Excerpt:

“It’s just as Bear foretold,” the Apache said. He closed his eyes and moved his hands in small circles with palms out. “The fire’s burning, but no one’s home in your teepee.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t feel like yourself, you’re feeling vacant and disconnected, like something’s missing.” Joe spoke as he opened his eyes.

She gaped at him in stunned silence before whispering: “How … why would you say something like that?” Henrietta’s heart thumped in her chest as she nervously glanced toward the living room. Her husband was still talking on the phone.

“Your soul speaks volumes through your eyes.”

“You see something in my eyes?” And she rubbed them again with her handkerchief.

“I see what was there, what should be there, but is not now.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine. My eyes were just watering, that’s all.” She winced, knowing that it wasn’t true, hating that she’d become such a liar.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help,” Joe said. He placed his folded hands on the table after sitting down.

His smile and disarming empathy surprised Henrietta, but she wasn’t going to be moved by what seemed like a sweet and insightful gesture. Joe Loco was absolutely the last person in the world she’d choose to confide in.

“Don’t worry. It’s obvious your soul has fragmented and is in need of repair,” Joe said with a calm certainty, as if it was an everyday matter to be dealt with.

“What?” Henrietta put her hands down and stared into space, bewildered by his words. In the quietude, the sizzle of the frying eggs and bacon filled the room like a choir of rattlers. My soul has what? When she looked again at Joe, planning to demand exactly what he meant, his eyes were closed, and he was whispering and holding his palms up as though in prayer.

So she placed the cooked food on a plate, poured a glass of milk and put both down in front of him. He opened his eyes and smiled up at her.

“That’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard—a soul fragmenting,” she said. “How would something like that even be possible?”

“It can happen when we believe or experience something bad we don’t want to face.” He took a bite of eggs and grits, closing his eyes again to savor the combination. “Oh, this is yum-yum,” he said.

When he looked up, it was Henrietta who was staring.

“The good news is that lost soul fragments can be recovered and healed. It’s not hard, if you know how, if you know the secret,” Joe said.

“Are you saying you know how to do that? That you know the secret?”

“The Great Spirit works hitherto and I work.”

She crossed her arms. “So what are you, some kind of soul repairman?”

 

 

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_TheSoulRetrievalAuthor Bio and Links:

Ann W. Jarvie has a B.A. in journalism and more than twenty-five years’ experience as an award-winning writer in advertising and public relations agencies, both in South Carolina and Chicago. She now lives near Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends part of her time as a freelance copywriter and the rest writing fiction.

The Soul Retrieval was inspired by Jarvie’s maternal grandmother’s fascinating life on Indian reservations, where she lived with her physician husband until his mysterious and untimely death.

 

www.annwjarvie.com

https://twitter.com/annjarvie

https://plus.google.com/104972649617453739149/posts

https://www.facebook.com/ann.jarvie1

 

Buy link: Book is free from Amazon on the date of the tour.

http://www.amazon.com/Soul-Retrieval-Ann-W-Jarvie/dp/0692368205/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1429907546&sr=8-1&keywords=ann+jarvie+the+soul

 

 

 

 
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Lynda Simmons on tour: Charmed, I’m Sure

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http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/03/vbt-charmed-im-sure-by-lynda-simmons.html

The author will award a $50 Amazon or BN GC to one randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

BookCover_CharmedImSure

Charmed, I’m Sure

by Lynda Simmons

Blurb:

Laugh Out Loud Funny…With Just a Touch of Magic

One minute Maxine Henley is the happy bride-to-be and the next she’s the girl who gets dumped over the phone. Max has never believed in magic and fairy’s tales, but if wearing a love charm can warm her fiancé’s cold feet, she’s happy to stuff that little wooden heart next to her own and wait. The charm came with a promise that the right man will find her, guaranteed, but how can that happen when her teenage crush Sam O’Neal keeps getting in the way!

 

Excerpt:

The Ballad of Jimmy James

A Serialized Novella by Lynda Simmons

 

Chapter Three

“Tom,” I call, my heart beating fast and hard as I hurry toward him. He’s not moving and his left leg is twisted unnaturally beneath him.  “Tom?” I kneel down, touch his face. Warm. Thank God and Guardian Angels and lucky, lucky stars. “Tom, can you hear me?”

He moans and relief floods through me. “It’s Jimmy.” I lean closer. “Can you move?”

“Jimmy James,” he whispers and opens his eyes. “Am I glad to see you.”

It’s what he says every time I come through the door. The greeting of a man who has been my friend since kindergarten, the only one who found ways to keep in touch after I left school, and a Godsend all of my life. It was Tom who explained the benefits of automatic payroll deposits when the company I worked for offered them. Tom who encouraged me to take them up on their offer of a retirement fund and Tom who helped me open an account for the transfers. An account in my own name that no one else would ever know about.

For years I would stop here every day on my way home from work if only for a few minutes. Cueing favourite albums on the turntable or reading forbidden books a page or two at a time. Learning about computers and cell phones and more importantly, leaving anything of value in the drawer under the cash register; knowing it would be there when I returned. When I retired, I was sure I’d never find a way back to this shop, this man, who has been my lifeline, until those lucky stars gave me Fridays. And I’m grateful his fall wasn’t worse, knowing full well that without Tom, Friday would be just another day.

He tries to raise his head, groans and reconsiders. “Fell off the ladder,” he whispers.

“How long have you been lying here?”

He takes a slow breath. “Don’t know. When I felt myself slipping, all I could think was, I’ll be okay. Jimmy’s coming.” His eyes flutter closed. “Call 911. And promise you won’t leave.”

“I promise.” Racing back to the desk, I push the old ginger cat off the phone, realizing I should have called as soon as I spotted Tom on the floor. Alerted someone who could actually do him some good.  “I need an ambulance,” I say, watching Ginger make her way across the desk to the chair and finally the floor while the operator inquires as to the nature of my emergency. I give her the address, Tom’s name, a brief rundown of what I know and hang up when she assures me emergency crews are on the way.

“They’ll have to come in from the alley,” I tell him. “I’ll go open the back door.”

He doesn’t answer and I realize his breathing has grown shallow, his skin turned grey.  Tom is the same age as me, and I can only imagine what the shock of the fall is doing to him right now. Hauling my sweater out of the bundle buggy, I cover him up before making my way to the back door; stepping carefully around unopened boxes of books and records, and wondering briefly if anyone ever regrets dropping them off. Ever tries to buy them back, only to find someone else has beaten them to it. Someone like me, who would buy every book and album in the place if I could, and never let a single one go.

After unlocking the door and checking the alley for signs of the ambulance, I shove some boxes to the side, making room for a gurney and hoping the door into the shop isn’t too narrow.

“They’ll be here soon,” I assure him and sit down. Tuck the sweater closer around him and fight the urge to call 911 again.

“Jimmy,” he whispers. “You need to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.” He slowly opens his eyes. “You need to stay after they take me away. Keep the shop open.”

I can feel my face growing hot. “I’ll call your son, tell him to come.”

“He’s out of town. Won’t be back until noon.”

“His wife then.”

“She’s got the kids.” He slides a hand along the floor, closes his fingers around mine. “Jimmy please. I know how difficult this is, but you have to promise me you’ll keep the shop open until noon.”

I know what he’s saying. The festival brings in people looking to spend money. His shelves are stocked, the window has been updated and the Loonie Bins are brimming, all because these next three days can be bigger than Christmas for him. But he knows I have to be home by noon. And I still have to get to the bank, the bakery, the grocery store where the checkout clerks move so slow it’s painful.

“I have to be home—“

“You have to be here.’ He squeezes my hand. “Promise me you won’t leave until noon.”

The bell above the door tinkles, saving us both from an answer he doesn’t want to hear.

“Who’s there?” I call.

“Just looking,” a female voice answers.

A flash of red dashes past the aisle, followed closely by the cat. I start to rise, but Tom’s grip tightens ever so slightly. “Promise me, Jimmy.”

I hear the back door open, a man calling, “Emergency services. Is anyone here?”

“In the front,” I yell, and try to pull my hand away, but Tom won’t let go.

“I know I’m asking a lot,” he whispers. “And I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important.”

The floor vibrates as heavy boots thump in from the back. Three people in uniform arrive at the end of the aisle. “I’m going to have to ask you to move, Sir,” one of them says as they advance with a stretcher and medical bags. “We need access to the patient.”

Two men and a woman. All young and earnest and exactly what both Tom and I need right now.

“You’re in good hands,” I say to Tom, getting to my feet, backing away toward the end of the aisle.

“Promise me,” he says before one of the men places an oxygen mask on his face.

“I promise,” I say and keep moving back; knowing I’ve just lied to the best friend I’ll ever know.

 

 

Author Bio and Links:

Lynda Simmons is a writer by day, college instructor by night and a late sleeper on weekends. She grew up in Toronto reading Greek mythology, bringing home stray cats and making up stories about bodies in the basement. From an early age, her family knew she would either end up as a writer or the old lady with a hundred cats. As luck would have it, she married a man with allergies so writing it was.

With two daughters to raise, Lynda and her husband moved into a lovely two storey mortgage in Burlington, a small city on the water just outside Toronto. While the girls are grown and gone, Lynda and her husband are still there. And yes, there is a cat – a beautiful, if spoiled, Birman. If you’d like to read the legend of Birman cats click here. If you’d like a link to allergy relief, click here.

When she’s not writing or teaching, Lynda gives serious thought to using the treadmill in her basement. Fortunately, she’s found that if she waits long enough, something urgent will pop up and save her – like a phone call or an e-mail or a whistling kettle. Or even that cat just looking for a little more attention!

 

Website www.lyndasimmons.com

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynda-Simmons-Author/149740745067442

Twitter @LyndaMSimmons

Amazon Link http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=charmed%2C%20i’m%20sure%20lynda%20simmons

Hawk MacKinney on Tour: Mocassin Trace

MBB_TourBanner_MocassinTrace copy

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/04/book-blastmoccasin-trace-by-hawk.html

Hawk will be awarding a $25 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

 

MediaKit_BookCover_MocassinTrace_smaller

Moccasin Trace

by Hawk MacKinney

 

Blurb:

… it was about the land…a tale of love and loss and hope…

“The most engaging and brilliantly crafted historical work since Margaret Mitchell’s great classic.”

Barbara Casey

Author, The Gospel According to Prissy

 

Hamilton Ingram looked out across the fertile Georgia bottomlands that were Moccasin Hollows, seeing holdings it had taken generations of Ingrams to build.  No drop of slave sweat ever shed in its creation.  It was about the land…his trust, his duty to preserve it for the generation of Ingrams to come…

It is July of 1859, a month of sweltering dog days and feverish emotional bombast.  Life is good for widower Rundell Ingram and his Hazel-eyed, roan-haired son, Hamilton.  Between the two of them, they take care of Moccasin Hollows, their rustic dogtrot ancestral home, a sprawling non-slave plantation in the rolling farming country outside Queensborough Towne in east Georgia.  Adjoining Ingram lands is Wisteria Bend, the vast slave-holding plantation of Andrew and Corinthia Greer, their daughter Sarah, and son Benjamin.

Both families share generations of long-accepted traditions, and childhood playmates are no longer children.  The rangy, even-tempered Norman-Scottish young Hamilton is smitten with Sarah, who has become an enticing capricious beauty—the young lovers more in love with each passing day, and only pleasant times ahead of them.

But a blood tide of war is sweeping across the South, a tide that might be impossible to stand before. 

 

Excerpt:

He took special care to have quiet times for Sarah, ‘specially since night before last. He got real excited when she told him she might be with child again.  She hadn’t been sleeping well, often wanted him to rub her aching back.  Now he knew why.

Threadbare clothes and unshorn hair gave Hamilton Bothington Graeme Ingram the look of a run-down, unkempt derelict instead of heir to one of the largest non-slave plantations in Saint George Parish.  He ducked under what was left of the split-rail fence with its crooked corner post.  Rails and most posts had long gone up in the smoke of hoards of campfires.

“Step wide.”  He reached back to help her through.  “I don’t want the mother of our children to step on a canebrake rattler catchin’ sun on this fine day.”

“Lord have mercy.”  Sarah clutched her bonnet in her hand so as not to get it snagged in the coiled tangle of wire.  “I suppose it’s up to me to get used to your hoverin’ over me again.”

“Yep,” he grinned.  “Reckon my favorite sweetheart will have to do just that.”

“Your favorite sweetheart?”  She giggled, wrinkled her nose at him.  “Just listen to you and your Ingram fiddle-faddled talk.”

He grinned as she brushed back strands of the golden hair Hamilton loved to run his fingers through.  She gathered her mended skirt, slipped her hand into his, and quickly stepped wide over the fallen post.

“C’mon…”  Her voice lilted soft, and she squeezed her grip on his hand.  “Let’s hurry.”

Her singular tenderness refused to let the devastation around them blight their few alone-times.  In the spoliation around them, such times when they managed to make it just the two of them held a more-than-special meaning.

 

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_MocassinTraceAuthor Bio and Links:

With postgraduate degrees and faculty appointments in several medical universities, Hawk MacKinney has taught graduate courses in both the United States and Jerusalem. In addition to professional articles and texts on chordate neuroembryology, Hawk has authored several works of fiction.

Hawk began writing mysteries for his school newspaper. His works of fiction, historical love stories, science fiction and mystery-thrillers are not genre-centered, but plot-character driven, and reflect his southwest upbringing in Arkansas, Texas and Oklahoma. Moccasin Trace, a historical novel nominated for the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award, details the family bloodlines of his serial protagonist in the Craige Ingram Mystery Series… murder and mayhem with a touch of romance. Vault of Secrets, the first book in the Ingram series, was followed by Nymrod Resurrection, Blood and Gold, and The Lady of Corpsewood Manor. All have received national attention.  Hawk’s latest release in the Ingram series is due out this fall with another mystery-thriller work out in 2014. The Bleikovat Event, the first volume in The Cairns of Sainctuarie science fiction series, was released in 2012.

“Without question, Hawk is one of the most gifted and imaginative writers I have had the pleasure to represent. His reading fans have something special to look forward to in the Craige Ingram Mystery Series. Intrigue, murder, deception and conspiracy–these are the things that take Hawk’s main character, Navy ex-SEAL/part-time private investigator Craige Ingram, from his South Carolina ancestral home of Moccasin Hollow to the dirty backrooms of the nation’s capital and across Europe and the Middle East.”

Barbara Casey, President

Barbara Casey Literary Agency

 

www.hawkmackinney.net

http://www.amazon.com/Moccasin-Trace-Hawk-MacKinney/dp/1595072608/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1400172529&sr=8-1&keywords=moccasin+trace

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/moccasin-trace-hawk-mackinney/1008084042?ean=9781595072603

Continue reading Hawk MacKinney on Tour: Mocassin Trace

Lynda Simmons: Perfect Fit

VBT_TourBanner_PerfectFit

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/02/vbt-perfect-fit-by-lynda-simmons.html

Giveaway: One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

 

Cover_Perfect Fit

Perfect Fit

by Lynda Simmons

 

Blurb:

Fast-paced, funny and incurably romantic

Rachel Banks has never believed in magic or moonlight, but if she’d thought that putting a piece of wedding cake under her pillow would conjure up a nightmare in the form of blue-eyed charmer Mark Robison, she’d have stuffed that cake into her mouth instead! Mark is only in Madeira Beach for some much needed R&R and his new neighbour is not the kind of woman made for vacation memories. But there’s something about the incurable romantic that just keeps drawing him back.

Jennifer Crusie. Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Lynda Simmons? Oh, yeah!

 

Excerpt:

“I’m Mark Robison,” he continued. “I’m out here looking for some answers myself.”

Rachel could only stare as he came toward her. He was tall and broad. A silhouette framed in moonlight.

He stopped and dipped his chin. “Are you all right?”

She gave her head a quick shake. “Fine, yes. Just preoccupied. With the house.”

No question about it. That had definitely been an award-winning dream. Why else would she have thought, for even a moment, that he was the man she’d seen in her room?

But then he said, “Why don’t you tell me your name?” in a silvery Southern whisper that was all too real, and Rachel found herself moving closer for a better look.

He laughed when she drew her head back. “Am I that strange-looking?” he asked.

“No,” she said, and almost laughed with relief. “Not at all.”

Broad shoulders, slim hips, all of that was right, but this guy had a beard. Never would she have dreamed a beard. A moustache perhaps but a beard? Definitely not.

She stuck out a hand. “I’m Rachel Banks.”

Beard aside, he did have a rather nice smile. And eyes that were heavy lidded and fringed with long dark lashes. The kind that give a man a sensuous, soulful look and seemed to see—

“Did you want to sit down and talk strategy?” he asked. “There’s an all-night club down the way.”

Rachel backed up a step, telling herself there was no magic and no man. It was a dream. Nothing more. And eyes hadn’t even entered into it.

 

AuthorPic_Perfect FitAuthor Bio and Links:

 

Lynda Simmons is a writer by day, college instructor by night and a late sleeper on weekends. She grew up in Toronto reading Greek mythology, bringing home stray cats and making up stories about bodies in the basement. From an early age, her family knew she would either end up as a writer or the old lady with a hundred cats. As luck would have it, she married a man with allergies so writing it was.

With two daughters to raise, Lynda and her husband moved into a lovely two storey mortgage in Burlington, a small city on the water just outside Toronto. While the girls are grown and gone, Lynda and her husband are still there. And yes, there is a cat – a beautiful, if spoiled, Birman.

When she’s not writing or teaching, Lynda gives serious thought to using the treadmill in her basement. Fortunately, she’s found that if she waits long enough, something urgent will pop up and save her – like a phone call or an e-mail or a whistling kettle. Or even that cat just looking for a little more attention!

 

Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/Lynda-Simmons/e/B001KI3Z4O

http://www.lyndasimmons.com/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/958842.Lynda_Simmons

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynda-Simmons-Author/149740745067442

https://twitter.com/LyndaMSimmons

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Fit-Lynda-Simmons-ebook/dp/B00P2OL0E4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1424018511&sr=8-2&keywords=lynda+simmons

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Jeff & Erynn Altabef: Wind Catcher

SBB_TourBanner_WindCatcher copy

 

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/02/super-book-blast-wind-catcher-by.html

Giveaway: $20 Amazon/BN GC, autographed print copy of Wind Catcher, or a digital copy of Wind Catcher.

MediaKit_BookCover_WindCatcher

WIND CATCHER

by Jeffrey Altabef & Erynn Altabef

 

Blurb:

Juliet Wildfire Stone hears voices and sees visions, but she can’t make out what they mean. Her eccentric grandfather tells her stories about the Great Wind Spirit and Coyote, but he might as well be speaking another language. None of it makes any sense.

When she stumbles upon a series of murders, she can’t help but worry her grandfather might be involved. To discover the truth, Juliet must choose between her new life at an elite private school and her Native American heritage.

Once she uncovers an ancient secret society formed over two hundred years ago to keep her safe, she starts to wonder whether there’s some truth to those old stories her grandfather has been telling her.

All she wants is to be an average sixteen-year-old girl, but she has never been average—could never be average.

Betrayed by those she loves, she must decide whether to run or risk everything by fulfilling her destiny as the Chosen.

 

Excerpt:

Everything about me is a lie.

My entire life is a leaning tower of lies that threatens to collapse at any moment and bury me so deep I may never climb out from under the rubble.

I slam the bathroom door and my hand trembles as the old-fashioned steel bolt slides into place.

Click.

The locked door offers no real safety. Locked doors can be broken, but it does give me a moment of privacy and a chance to breathe. So much has happened over the past few days. It’s like I’ve become a totally different person, someone unrecognizable.

The adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins has completely melted away now as I lean against the wooden door. My breath comes fast and ragged. My body feels heavy and weary and my legs weaken. Gravity pulls me down. Too tired to resist, I slide down the length of the door until the white marble floor rushes up to meet me.

I work hard to steady my breath and focus on taking in fresh air, expelling the old. It’s a simple process, yet it takes all of my concentration. When air starts to flow, my eyes close. Time slows and drifts by erratically.

Images flash through my mind—an eclectic group of memories: childhood birthdays, second place in a spelling bee, hanging out with Troy, rock climbing with Sicheii. Most are happy, but they’re all tainted now. The lies spoil them. They were never true. They were just part of a story, one that’s changed forever.

My weary mind reaches for sleep, but I resist. Too much time would be wasted. There’s too much for me to do. Too many loose ends need to be tied, so I open moist eyes and wipe away tears I don’t recall crying.

When my vision clears, crimson-streaked fingers flutter near my face as if directed by someone else. I thought blood looked like ketchup, but it’s darker and thicker than you would think. My hands spin in tight circles. Each finger is stained with thick, mud-colored smears.

Whose blood is on them?

A cold sweat coats my back and my chest tightens. This blood must be scrubbed away immediately. It starts to burn as if it’s alive, as if possessed by dark spirits, spirits that want to harm me. It freaks me out. I have got to wash them clean now, this second, immediately, before….

I turn the faucet and hot water tumbles over my skin. I frantically rub my fingers together and hope friction and water alone will make the blood disappear. The water in the sink turns red and then pink, but traces of blood stubbornly stay behind. A bar of soap rests on the edge of the porcelain sink. Lather squishes between my fingers—twisting and turning, scrubbing and rinsing. My skin turns raw from the rubbing, and when the water has lost all its warmth, I turn the faucet off.

Hard to find specks of blood cling to my flesh, but I still see them and feel them.

Will they ever wipe clean? I don’t think so.

A silent scream builds deep within me, which so desperately wants to be released it practically hurts, but no sound slips past my lips. I’m too tired to scream.

 

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_WindCatcherAuthor Bio and Links:

Wind Catcher: A Chosen Novel is a joint project between the father/daughter team of Jeff Altabef and Erynn Altabef.  Jeff Altabef is an award winning author who has two published thrillers. He has a column on The Examiner focused on writing, and a blog designed to encourage writing by those that like telling stories. He spends time volunteering at the writing center in the local community college. Erynn Altabef is an avid reader, dancer, and community activist who has just earned her Girl Scout Gold Award. When she’s not in High School, she loves reading, performing in school musicals, baking, and watching movies with her friends.

 

http://www.jeffaltabef.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jeff-Altabef-Author

https://twitter.com/JeffAltabef

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7055582.Jeff_Altabef

http://www.amazon.com/Jeff-Altabef/e/B00FNVK3NK

http://www.evolvedpub.com/team-view/jeff-altabef/

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BITTERSWEET by Michele Barrow-Belilse

MBB_TourBanner_Bittersweet copy

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/03/book-blast-bittersweet-by-michele.html

 

Giveaway: Michele is giving away a $10 Amazon/BN GC.

 

MediaKit_BookCover_Bittersweet

BITTERSWEET

by Michele Barrow-Belilse

Blurb:

To save the Faery world and her mother’s life, seventeen-year-old Lorelei sacrificed everything, and the dangerous bargains she made in Nevermore had lasting repercussions. Now safely back in her own world, Lorelei seems the same to her high school friends and her supernatural boyfriend, despite the dark magic growing within her. Love across dimensions is complicated, especially when an invisible veil between the two worlds is sealing, threatening to separate Lorelei and Adrius forever.

Determined to find a solution, Lorelei resorts to exploring her new found powers. But when her friends fall ill, and her healing touch only makes things worse, Lorelei can’t help but wonder if she’s responsible.

Nightmares from the Nevermore tighten their icy hold when someone arrives determined to destroy Lorelei’s world, starting with those closest to her. Once again she’s forced to choose between her family… her friends… and a love that was ill-fated from the start.

 

Excerpt:

“Stay. Just…. Stay.” The second I said it I felt awful. What was I asking? I knew he couldn’t stay, that he needed to return to his world to stay alive in mind.

Since the night of the dance we’d carefully stayed away from discussing our little predicament. We were still at a standoff. He couldn’t live in my world without magical aids to keep him alive, because of the toxic nature of our polluted air, and I couldn’t go back to his world, because of a bunch of angry beings trying to kill me. That left us here. He would have to return to his world and refuel, to come back to mine. How long the potions lasted depended upon how much stress he was under. Physical exertion, extreme emotions all used up the reserve more quickly. Then there was the issue of his still being tied to Venus, the daughter of the ice witch I killed. A curse had caused his forced fealty to her. Killing the witch was not only supposed to save Mythlandria from her destructive wrath, it was also supposed to free Adrius of the curse that bound him to the ice witch’s commands. Who knew there was a daughter who would take over the bonds, and that she was also his ex-girlfriend.

Now she wants me dead in payment for killing her mother, and as a bonus, I’d be out of the way so she could get Adrius back in her life. That he could come here at all means the curse is weakening. I want his freedom, but at which price? Was I willing to kill for it? I’d have to end her life as well if I was going to destroy the bonds. And I wasn’t a killer. Even Octăhvia’s death was more of an accident than intended. I had no idea what awakening the magic would do, or how to wield it. This arrangement seemed like our only option, for now. And while I hated to see him leave, there was something comforting in being able to pretend that my life was normal again. As normal as it ever was. I could enjoy being back home with friends and back at school which surprisingly enough, I’d missed. It’s amazing how coming to the edge of your life multiple times will make even the most mundane routines a welcomed change.

“Think about what you’re asking me,” he said. “You know why I have to leave.”

He watched me suck in a breath of regret, as I wished I could take back my self-serving plea.

Pain creased his eyes. “Sleep soundly, Lorelei,” was all he said. He kissed the top of my head and turned to go.

The tense set of his jaw revealed the effort it took to leave. I watched him walk away, biting down on my lower lip until he reached the driveway.

“How am I supposed to sleep?” My voice was almost too quiet to be heard over the howling wind. But his hearing surpassed most mortal’s.

“Warm milk with honey works well,” he answered my whisper, his back still facing me. “It helps with the night terrors too,” he added.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I moved closer, descending one step at a time until my bare feet hit the cold of the pavement.

Adrius froze. Electric pulses crackled between us.

“I was talking about sleeping without you. Here.”

“You’ve managed to do it before,” he said cautiously, the strain of his resolve vibrating in his voice.

“I know. But—“

This was wrong. It was selfish. How could I ask him to stay, when I know that leaving is what would keep him alive to return to me?

“I’m sorry. I’m being silly. It’s just I can’t—“

With whipcrack intensity, his resolve burned away and he rushed toward me and pulled me into his arms. His touch burned through my shirt as his hands splayed against my back, pressing us closer. He kissed me, hungrily at first, then it quickly deepened to ravenous. Matching his fervor, I tangled my fingers in his hair. Every inch of me was on fire. He gasped, his lips slowing against mine. By the time we separated, we were both breathless. He leaned his forehead against mine for a few rapid heartbeats, then pulled back. Our eyes remained locked in a palpitating stretch of silence that spoke volumes. My head swirled, and all I wanted was more of where we’d left off.

But he read my intentions. The corners of his lips quirked and he shook his head. Warm hands slid down my arms with one last caress, before he disappeared. Gone so quickly I didn’t actually see him leave. Swallowed by the darkness of the night and the forest that held the secret doorway into Mythlandria.

 

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_BittersweetAuthor Bio and Links:

BIO

A dreamer at heart, Michele Barrow-Belisle has always lived with one foot in this reality and one foot in another, one of her own imagining. So it follows that she would grow up to write about the characters from those enchanting worlds she knows and loves so well. A fan of all things romantic, her young adult novels are populated with scintillating witches, vampires and fey.  Her bestselling debut book series Fire and Ice (Faerie Song Trilogy) was optioned for a major motion picture this year. Michele resides in southern Canada with her hubby and son who indulge her never-ending obsession with reading, writing and most importantly… chocolate.

 

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS

Website:  www.michelebarrowbelisle.com  (join my mailing list)

Blog:  www.michelebelisle.blogspot.ca

Facebook Author Page:  www.facebook.com/authormichele

Facebook Street Team page:  https://www.facebook.com/groups/396189297153826/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3059577.Michele_Barrow_Belisle

Twitter:  www.twitter.com/MicheleBelisle

Pinterest:  www.pinterest.com/micheley26

YouTube:  www.youtube.com/user/micheley26

Google+:  https://plus.google.com/u/0/110546512991850441753/posts/p/pub

Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/Michele-Barrow-Belisle/e/B00BVRJADY

Continue reading BITTERSWEET by Michele Barrow-Belilse

Jacquie Biggar on Tour: The Rebel’s Redemption

BBT_TourBanner_TheRebelsRedemption

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/02/blurb-blitz-rebels-redemption-by.html

 

Jacquie will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

BookCover_TheRebelsRedemption

The Rebel’s Redemption

by Jacquie Biggar

 

Blurb:

Annie Campbell has made a good life for her and her young son in the mountain town of Tidal Falls. She’s dating the sheriff, owns a successful business, and has the support of the community. So why isn’t it quite enough?

Jared Martin left Tidal Falls a hotheaded youth, and now, after eight years in the military, he returns a bitter, disillusioned man.

Then he finds out he’s a father.

When an old enemy follows and causes mayhem in the small town, can Jared overcome the odds to protect the woman he’s always loved and the child he never knew, or will it be too late?

 

Excerpt:

Annie’s heart tried to leap out of her chest, one hand muffling her scream, while the other clutched the now half-empty box. Why hadn’t she made sure she locked the door behind the delivery guy this morning? Of all the asinine, irresponsible things to do

“I…I’m sorry, we’re closed right now. Can you ma…maybe come back later?”

Like never.

The stranger—she was pretty sure she’d never seen him before—stayed to the shadows, denying her a clear view of his features. He wore an old-fashioned bowler hat tipped forward over his eyes, and a black greatcoat, one hand tucked into the pocket. She was probably about to star in her own horror flick. Killed with her own merchandise. She could see the headlines already. Annie kept a nervous gaze on that pocket, her imagination going into overdrive.

When the silence threatened to explode in her head, he bent and picked up one of the carving knives she’d graciously sent his way. His thumb skimmed up and down the blade. She didn’t think she’d ever been so scared in her life.

“Please, I have no money. What do you want?”

That got a reaction. His hand stilled on the blade and piercing eyes looked up and pinned her in place. “Tell Martin I here. There is nowhere he can hide.” He threw the knife. Annie gasped and recoiled as the blade flew through the air and embedded itself obscenely in the heart of her sewing mannequin. “Tell him he must pay.” Without another word, he disappeared out the door, a dark wraith.

Annie sank to the floor in a boneless heap. Now that it was over her teeth chattered, and shivers racked her frame. Who was he? What did he want? She wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding and he’d come to the wrong door, but in her heart she knew better.

This was about Jared.

 

AuthorPhoto_TheRebelsRedemptionAuthor Bio and Links:

From the time I was twelve years old, I knew I wanted to be a writer. That year I wrote a short story called Count Daffodil for my English Assignment. It garnered me an A and was read aloud through the school’s loudspeaker system. Needless to say, after that I was hooked.

I grew up, got married, raised a family and left my writing urges to simmer in the background unattended.

I owned and operated a successful diner in my hometown for a number of wonderful years. Now I’m ready to take up the writing reins and see how far I can travel.

I expect it to be an exciting, new journey and would be honored to have your company along the way.

 

http://jacquiebiggar.com

http://Facebook.com/jacqbiggar

http://Twitter.com/jacqbiggar

 

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