Thursday, December 15, 2016
Info on Greater
Have you ever had a dream? A dream that you knew was more than likely impossible to reach and many others thought the same thing? Yet, you still held on to that dream and did everything possible to make it happen? I love to hear stories of people that accomplish the impossible, even if it doesn't always end in a happy ending. I like to cheer on the underdog and it gives me inspiration for my own life and dreams.
I encourage each of you to watch the movie entitled Greater. It is the story of Brandon Burlsworth, a guy that dreamed of playing football for the Arkansas Razorbacks. Brandon, as a walk on with the team strives and overcomes and accomplishes his goals. However,the story is about more than a dream, it is a movie about family and faith and sometimes bad things happen to those good people. This movie gets me very excited as I am thrilled that more movies based on Faith and Christianity are starting to be produced. And that these movies don't always show that everything is happy and all works out in the end.
Info on Hillsong-Let Hope Rise
Hillsong, a Christian music group from Australia, has allowed cameras to document their journey. The members tell about how they joined the group and their faith, it follows them on tour and shares some of the time they are home and the interaction of their families. The music if phenomenal and you get a look into how they write the songs they sing and the role that faith plays in that process. Although this movie is a documentary style, I urge you to still check it out. It is a refreshing burst of faith and music.
Both of these movies are going to be released on DVD on Tuesday, December 20, so be sure and get them both so you can enjoy with your family over Christmas.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Highway Thirteen to Manhattan
The Six Train to Wisconsin Series
Genre: Paranormal and Suspense
Publisher: Aurea Blue Press
Date of Publication: 11/1/2016
Number of pages: 420
Word Count: 94,000
Cover Artist: Creative Paramita
His secrets almost killed her. Her secrets may destroy them both.
Kai is recovering from a near-death experience when she realizes something isn’t right. Her body is healing, but her mind no longer feels quite like her own. Her telepathic powers are changing, too. She can’t trust herself. The darkness growing inside of her pushes her to use her telepathy as a weapon.
Oliver clings to the hope that he can save their marriage, even though he was the one who put her life in jeopardy. As his wife slips further and further away from him, he becomes increasingly obsessed with bringing the man who ruined his life to justice.
The sequel to The Six Train to Wisconsin is a genre-defying tale of love and consequences. Once again, award-winning author Kourtney Heintz seamlessly weaves suspense and paranormal intrigue into a real-world setting, creating characters rich in emotional and psychological complexity.
Like most daughters, I loved my parents, but right now, I wanted them anywhere but here. Hospitals are always hard, but my parents managed to make it harder. My head was already pounding from all the thoughts and emotions coming at me. Not just from the patients and their families and the doctors and the nurses, but also from my mother and father. Instead of shielding their thoughts and trying to make it better for me, they let their emotions crash into me.
My mind wasn’t strong enough for all this. Neither was my body. Tubes eviscerated my right hand. A giant bruise blossomed beside the newest IV line. A cast wrapped around my left wrist. My broken pinky finger had been set and taped to my ring finger. The back of my head was held together with stitches. Beneath the blanket, my body was covered in bruises.
I didn’t feel any physical pain because of the medications the doctors pumped into me. They said I needed it to recover, but it made my body feel like it wasn’t mine. And the steady drip of opiates didn’t just steal my physical pain; it left me unable to form the psychic shield I needed to protect myself from the misery swirling around me.
Mom sat in the chair closest to my bed. She wore one of her flowing peasant blouses and faded jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and light brown strands slipped loose to hang around her face. The corners of her hazel eyes were pinched with worry.
Her hand hovered over my arm, unsure where to touch me—if she should touch me. Finally, she laid her hand gently on my thigh. “You just need to rest here for a few more days.”
She was wrong. I needed to get out of here. Away from all these thoughts as soon as possible. “I want to go home.”
Mom shook her head. “You need to let the doctors help you.” Like they did last time.
Her thoughts slammed into my brain. She thought hospitalization was the solution to everything.
“Please. Look at what’s happened to you. You can’t go home until you’re better,” she said. I can’t lose you. I won’t let that happen.
I didn’t know how to reassure her. Yes, I’d almost died, but being here was hurting me more than it was healing me. I swallowed all the words I wanted to say and hoped for Caleb to come back soon. My brother would know how to talk to Mom, how to make her understand.
The doctor came in to check on me and Mom’s agonizing fear rose up. Don’t let her have brain damage.
Dad patted Mom’s shoulder. He looked like an older, surfer version of Caleb. Both were tall and muscular with curly blond hair. Dad’s hair was a darker blond streaked with platinum from decades in the sun and salt water. His eyes were greener than Caleb’s, but like Caleb’s, they were rimmed with purple bruises. When Dad smiled, sun lines radiated from his eyes and cut across his cheeks. But I hadn’t seen them since he’d arrived at my bedside. Instead, waves of exhaustion rolled off him and rippled over me, right before I heard his thoughts. I can’t go through this again, watching you slip away.
My younger sister Naomi lounged in the chair in the corner as far from me as she could get. She had Mom’s light brown hair and thin frame and Dad’s green eyes and height. She looked nothing like me and only distantly related to Caleb. Her long legs looped over the armrest as she flipped through a magazine. Thanks for ruining Christmas break. I’d rather be anywhere but here.
I felt the same way.
At least Oliver was gone for the moment. Mom had convinced him to go home, take a shower, maybe even sleep. I couldn’t bear his guilt; it was so thick it choked me.
Oliver. My husband. God. I’d never loved and hated someone so much at the same time. I still couldn’t believe he’d called my parents. He knew how bad they were at handling me. How could he have thought that having my family here would be good for me?
Bitterness frosted my thoughts. I was in a hospital, bruised and battered. I’d almost died. That’s what Caleb had said. He was the only one willing to tell me the truth. Oliver had said it was bad, but he wouldn’t say how bad. He couldn’t bear to admit what happened to me.
About the Author:
Kourtney Heintz writes award-winning cross genre fiction that melds paranormal, suspense, and literary into an unforgettable love story. For her characters, love is a journey never a destination. Her debut novel, The Six Train to Wisconsin, has been on the Amazon Bestseller lists for Psychic Mysteries and Paranormal and Urban Fantasy.
Kourtney resides in Connecticut with her warrior lapdog, Emerson, and three quirky golden retrievers. Years of working on Wall Street provided the perfect backdrop for her imagination to run amuck at night, imagining a world where out-of-control telepathy and buried secrets collide. As K.C. Tansley, she writes bestselling YA time travel murder mysteries.
She has been featured in the Republican American, on WTNH’s CT Style, and Everything Internet on the radio. She has a B.S. in Business Administration from Georgetown University with a double major in finance and international business and a minor in Chinese. She received a Master of Pacific International Affairs from the University of California, San Diego.
You can find out more about Kourtney and her books at: http://kourtneyheintz.com
Friday, October 14, 2016
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Publisher: BadBird Publications
Date of Publication: September 20, 2016
Word Count: 100k
Cover Artist: Pranav Lohani
Photo by Blackbird Photography
On 26 May 1897, Bram Stoker brought us the story of Dracula; an undead creature who terrorised the living by drinking their blood. He based his creature on the legends of Ireland and Eastern Europe, bringing it to life with all the pomp of Victorian literature. What if his concept was correct, but the execution was not? What if there was not one creature, but a band of twenty-four? Crusader knights who committed such a terrible act that the Pope of Rome and the Rabbis of Jerusalem joined together in petitioning God to bring a terrible curse upon them.Sentenced to eternal life as punishment for their crimes, yet hounded by both the clerical and the secular as they struggle to live them. The Jews called them Ga’ashekelah: the Raveners. To the Catholic Church, they are the Accursed Ones. Feasting on the bodies of the living to maintain their power.
What starts as a simple trip on the Eurostar to the buried trenches of World War One in Northern France is going to take Imperial War Museum expert Dr. Alexandra Horne on a journey she could never have conceived. From the bustling streets of Paris to the azure waters of Collioure and the very Vatican itself, Lexa will discover the Raveners and those who have sworn to hunt them down.
Grab Your Copy Here
She found herself going from map to map. This was sometime around the second phase of the battle, before Beaumont-Hamel was finally taken. Thiepval as well. “This must be from the middle of September 1916. Maybe October. It’s obvious from this that he was trying to bring men around to penetrate the Allied lines from the areas they couldn’t budge.” She found herself gnawing on a thumbnail. “Dear God! With a counteroffensive like this, he might have shifted them. It’s a bold plan. Whether or not he could have managed it, with the Germans bleeding to death at Verdun, would have been the question. But damn! This might have changed the battle. Maybe even the war.”
“I wondered about that.” Another voice behind her.
Lexa turned and coloured, realising that in her wonder she had completely ignored the stranger in the room. “Oh! I am Sorry! Dr. Lexa Horne of the Imperial War Museum.” She held her hand out.
“Dr. Jack Bennett. Pleased to meet you.” Bennett was a large, fit man in his mid fifties with close-cropped, iron grey hair and a face lined from years digging in the sun. He had a bit of the George Clooney about him and Lexa was sure that all the archeology undergrads wanted him as a prof. He was a trifle swoon worthy. “Call me Jack. It was great that you could come out here at such short notice. We will be wrapping all this up in the next week or two.”
“The pleasure is entirely all mine,” Lexa told him in all earnestness. “This is simply unbelievable. This is like walking into heaven for me.” Ok. A small lie. Dead men and unexploded ordinance aside, it was heaven.
Bennett gestured back with his head and stepped aside. “I doubt the major there would agree.”
Lexa gasped as she saw the body at the desk. He was perfectly mummified, just as Darby had told her. He was hunched over, as if sleeping, and his golden hair gleamed in the light. His skin was the colour and texture of tanned leather, and his lips under a large moustache had pulled back to show his teeth. His head lay on on crossed arms, sunken eyes closed in eternal repose. The fingers were slightly curled; a large ring on one hand and a wedding ring on another. His light blue uniform hung on what was left of his frame, but was in decent condition through the shoulders. In fact, there were no real decomposition of the fabric. His side arm rested on the chair, the belt having slid down with time. The silver bullion on his uniform had a dull tarnish and the aiguillettes on his shoulder seemed suspended as if by magic. Beside him, his uniform cap was on the desk.
“Oh dear God!” Lexa exclaimed. “You’ve just left him there? How could you do that?”
“The question is how to get him out of the trapdoor without disturbing him. We have another specialist coming in from Germany. He is one of theirs, after all,”
Bennett shrugged. “And you know the Germans. They are trying to find the right person. I would move him, but he is perfectly preserved. Outside of this environment, I expect he would not last long. It seems a shame to compromise his remains unnecessarily.”
The body rooted Lexa to the spot. She felt a terrible weight on her chest. “I’ve never seen a dead body before.”
Darby walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok. He can’t hurt you.”
“It also feels a bit indecent to be looking at him.” But she found she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“We treat all remains with the greatest respect,” Bennett said quietly. “As you know, there is a lot we can learn from him. He is so perfectly preserved. When we have learned from him, we can return him to his family, if they still exist. He can be reburied with honour. He was lost and we found him. There is nothing indecent about that.”
“I just feel so strange with him there. I feel like a thief in his home.”
“The first time you see remains is always the hardest,” Darby told her. “Just remember that he is gone. What made him a person is gone. He is in a better place.”
Lexa nodded and walked closer to the desk. Her mouth was rather dry but now curiosity was getting the better of her. They were right. She was just being a ninny. Yes. This man was dead and he couldn’t hurt her. “Yes. I suppose you are right.”
Bennett quirked up a little smile. “Just don’t touch him.”
It was the moustache. The moustache was so familiar. Even in death, it had that upwards curl which was so familiar. A vain bushiness. When she had seen it in pictures, it always made her smile. “I think I know who this is!” Lexa exclaimed and reached into her bag for her iPad.
About the Author:
LD Towers travels the world like a rootless vagabond! A military historian, she searches out places of conflict to find a deeper insight to the things she writes about. Presently enjoying the warm weather and azure seas of Central America, she has lived all over Western Europe, including 5.5 years in the incomparable Berlin.
Primarily working in Historical and Military Fiction, LD sometimes sneaks in the odd Dystopian or Modern Thriller piece. In fact, her new book is a complete redo on the vampire concept. Look for The Raveners; coming September 20, 2016.
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Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Passports and Promises
Genre: New Adult Romance
Publisher: Pennrose Press
Date of Publication: September 10, 2016
Number of Pages: 171
Word Count: 53K
Cover Artist: Najla Qamber
Book Description Part One:
Samantha Barnes always dreamed of seeing the world, and only has a few months left before she starts a semester abroad in Japan. Enough time to say goodbye to her friends, polish up her language skills, and maybe even squeeze in a quick fling with handsome fraternity boy Dylan Hunter.
All she wants from Dylan is something casual, and perhaps some mind-blowing sex, but things don’t work out as planned. Dylan wants a lot more from her than a hook-up. Before Sam realizes what’s happening, their relationship has become serious, something she never intended. And then she discovers Dylan is hiding a dark secret that makes breaking up with him nearly impossible.
Sam is running out of time. She has to leave soon. She has no choice. But leaving Dylan could mean more than just the end of their relationship. It could also mean destroying him completely.
Excerpt Part One:
I walked out of the classroom and straight into Dylan Hunter. He’d been standing right outside the door to my classroom.
“What are you doing here?”
I’d wanted to see him in the sunshine, and I’d gotten my wish. He was even better looking than I remembered, with his black hair, dark eyes, and sexy crooked smile.
“This was the only Japanese III class being offered this semester. I took a chance.”
I hesitated, not sure if this was nice or a little creepy. “Oh.”
He lifted a bag he held in his hand. “I brought lunch.”
His face, so full earnestness, dispelled any worry I had about his creepiness factor. We sat outside and ate the lunch he’d prepared for us; peanut butter sandwiches, apples, and brownies.
“I bought the brownies, but I made the sandwiches myself.”
He handed me a soda. The September sun peeked through the leaves on the trees, warming us as we sat on a stone bench and ate. He turned and straddled the bench to face me. My cheeks got a little hot. I’d barely had time to pull my hair into a bun this morning. I wore yoga pants and a hoodie, and not a touch of makeup. The longer Dylan stared, the more uncomfortable I became.
“Are you still with Max?”
I shook my head. “We broke up weeks ago.”
“But do you still love him?”
I decided the direct and honest approach would work best. “I never loved him and he never loved me. It ended well. We’re better as friends.”
He grinned and the effect shocked me. An odd tingling sensation rushed through my whole body. If his smile could do that to me, I had to wonder what his other parts could do. His lips. His hands. Everything else.
He leaned forward and, for just a second, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he got really close and stared into my eyes. “That’s good news, Sam.”
“Because I want you to be mine.”
My half-eaten brownie remained clutched in my hand as I tried to formulate a coherent thought. I took a sip of soda and stared at him.
“That’s awfully direct, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Why pretend? It’s what I want. Why shouldn’t I be honest about it?”
“You hardly know me.”
“I know enough.”
He reached for my hand, lacing my fingers with his. It reminded me of our walk home from the frat.
He let go of my hand and looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Can I see you later?”
He gathered up our trash and tossed it into a bin. “How about dinner? Would seven work for you?”
I hesitated only a second before answering. “Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up at the Theta house. Wear a dress.”
I stood next to him, holding my books against my chest. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea...”
He touched my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “What’s there to be unsure about?”
“You’re a nice guy, but I’m leaving in January. I’ll be in Japan for the whole semester. It would be crazy to get involved with someone right now.”
“It’s dinner, Sam. No worries. No strings. Just food.”
“Just food. I’ll see you at seven.”
Passports and Promises
Genre: New Adult Romance
Publisher: Pennrose Press
Date of Publication: September 10, 2016
Number of Pages: 164
Word Count: 50K
Cover Artist: Najla Qamber
Book Description Part Two:
What if you meet the right person…at absolutely the wrong time?
When Samantha Barnes starts her semester abroad in Japan, she brings along a heavy load of emotional baggage. With her ex-boyfriend in the midst of a mental health crisis back home, she’d been forced to make some difficult choices, choices that now fill her with guilt and remorse. She also made promises to him she isn’t sure she can keep, especially when she meets Thomas MacGregor, an irresistibly charming Scottish rugby player. Thomas is studying at the same university as Samantha, and, although she tries to fight it, she begins to fall for him. Hard.
Life in Kyoto is everything Samantha could imagine, but, when tragedy strikes, it sends her on a downward spiral into darkness. Will she be able to come to terms with what happened, and have a future with Thomas, or will she forever be plagued by regret?
Forgiveness is a tricky thing, especially when the person you need to forgive most is yourself.
Excerpt Part Two:
As we walked through the lobby, I felt a little underdressed. Most of the women had on skirts, and the men wore suits. The only other foreigners, a group of men sitting in the bar, laughed and talked loudly, causing people to shoot them curious glances. The bar opened into the lobby, and they watched what looked like a very noisy and exciting rugby match on a large television. I suspected they might also be students, here for the Tokyo orientation, but we automatically steered away from them. They seemed rowdy, and had begun drawing annoyed looks from the hotel staff.
“Some people leave home for the first time and don’t know how to act,” said Hana under her breath.
One of the guys in the group stood up and yelled, raising his hands in the air. His booming voice echoed throughout the lobby.
“Bloody hell. They did it.”
I caught a glimpse of possibly the tallest, broadest guy I’d ever seen. He had a headful of unruly curls streaked with gold that made him look a bit like a lion. He wore jeans and a wrinkled dress shirt half tucked and half untucked into his jeans. He turned around and his eyes met mine for just a moment. A shockingly deep shade of blue, they lit up when he saw me.
“Oi,” he said, waving at us. We ignored him and ducked into the hotel gift shop.
“Do you think they’re in the Ritsumeikan group?”
Hana glanced over her shoulder. “Dr. Eshima told me there would be a bunch of ruggers from Scotland, England, and Australia in our group. This is the first year they’ve had a team, and they recruited the best collegiate ruggers in the world for training and marketing purposes. I would bet that is them.”
Dr. Eshima had taken a position teaching at Ritsumeikan this semester. I was excited, not only because I loved having him as a teacher. It would be nice to have another familiar face around.
“Rugby players,” she said. “Uh-oh. Here comes one now.”
The giant lion man stood at the doorway of the gift shop, swaying slightly on his feet. His eyes scanned the shop until he found me.
“Oi,” he said again.
I feigned tremendous interest in the postcard collection, but he refused to take the hint. He came over, standing a little too close. Hana deserted me, sneaking to the far side of the gift shop to get two cans of grape juice from the fridge. Lion Man stared down at me, forcing me to acknowledge his presence.
“I came to say hello.” It sounded more like “Ay kem ta sey halloo.” His eyes, only half open, appeared glassy. Definitely trashed, but he didn’t seem dangerous. Just very large, and loud, and Scottish.
“Hello.” I nodded at him and returned to my postcard perusal. My heart hammered in my chest. I forced myself to take slow, even breaths, feeling a now familiar tightening in my ribs.
I’d had the first anxiety attack of my life not long before I left for Japan, and the lack of control had been as frightening as the attack itself. I’d had a few close calls since then, but never another full-blown attack.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down as I analyzed the situation. For all his size, the rugby player wasn’t an actual threat. He was just a large, good-looking drunk who wanted to flirt. As soon as I realized that, my heart rate slowly returned to normal.
He tilted his gigantic head to one side, looking a bit like a golden retriever. Maybe that was his spirit animal. Not a lion but a big puppy with giant, overgrown paws.
“Do we have problem, sorority girl?” he asked, his eyes on the Greek letters appliqued onto my hoody.
I gave him a tight smile, wanting to hide the fact my hands still shook from the adrenaline rush I’d just experienced. I shoved them into the pocket of my hoodie. “I don’t have a problem. Excuse me.”
I tried to slip past him, but he blocked my way. “Aren’t you high and mighty?”
“Aren’t you drunk and sloppy?”
His friends laughed. They stood at the entry of the shop waiting to see what might happen.
“Come on, Thomas,” one of them said. “Leave the poor girl alone.”
He straightened his spine, making him seem even more ridiculously tall, and made a half-hearted attempt to tuck in his shirt, bringing my attention to both his six-pack and his bulging biceps. In spite of his rudeness and slovenly appearance, I found him attractive. Scary thought. A wall of muscle, charm, and Scottish hotness, he probably picked up women as easily as picking up a pair of socks. The last thing I needed right now.
“Let me try this again, the proper way. Hello. My name is Thomas Alexander MacGregor. How do you do?”
He gave me a very formal bow and held out a beefy hand. Against my better judgment, I took it. “Samantha Barnes.”
He swayed again on his feet, but kept my hand firmly gripped in his. I wondered what would happen if he passed out in this tiny gift shop full of delicate glass trinkets in elegantly lit display cases. Thomas MacGregor, built like a redwood tree, would take out half the shop if he fell. The little Japanese woman behind the counter seemed to think the same thing. She watched our interaction with wary eyes, her fingers hovering above a button on her desk. Thomas didn’t even notice her. He only had eyes for me. Bleary, bloodshot eyes, even if they were a beautiful shade of blue.
“Samantha Barnes. You are lovely. Really lovely. Not the friendliest girl I’ve ever met, and a bit stuck on yourself, I’d say, but lovely. As lovely as an angel, in fact. Why don’t you and your friend join us for a drink?”
I wiggled out of his grasp and ducked around him. “No, thanks.”
He spun around, almost losing his balance. “Why not?”
Hana and I slipped out of the shop, but I paused in the doorway. “Didn’t a MacGregor try to kill Peter Rabbit?”
He frowned, his eyebrows coming together as he thought about it. “That was Farmer MacGregor. And Peter Rabbit got away, if I remember the story correctly.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “So I guess history will repeat itself.”
He left the shop and watched as I walked toward the lobby with Hana. “You won’t even have one wee drink with me, little rabbit? Why?”
“Because you are a drunken, rude, overbearing Scottish ox. And you’ve already had one ‘wee drink’ too many.”
His friends cheered; laughing so hard they nearly fell over. One of them shouted, “She’s right, Tommy. You are a bloody ox.”
He got very red in the face and lumbered back to his friends. “No chance with that one. Pretty to look at for sure, but as prickly as a damned thistle. You were right. I owe you a pint, Malcolm.”
My ears burned as we walked away. Hana gave me a sympathetic look. “Well, hopefully you’ll never have to see him again,” she said.
I sighed. “I’m not that lucky.”
About the Author:
Abigail Drake has spent her life traveling the world, and collecting stories wherever she visited. She majored in Japanese and International Economics in college and worked in import/export and as an ESL teacher before she committed herself full time to writing. She writes in several romance genres, and her books are quirky, light, fun, and sexy. Abigail is a trekkie, a book hoarder, the master of the Nespresso machine, a red wine addict, and the mother of three boys (probably the main reason for her red wine addiction). A puppy named Capone is the most recent addition to her family, and she blogs about him as a way of maintaining what little sanity she has left.
Ten free eBook copes of Saying Goodbye Part One will be given to people randomly selected.
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Friday, September 23, 2016
The Summer of Annah
A Midsummer’s Wish
Seasons of Annah Series
Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction
Publisher: River Lady Press
Date of Publication: June 10, 2016
Number of pages: 328
Word Count: 102,000
Cover Artist: Covers by Karen
“The true love I desire shall come to me. I am the lock he is the key. As mine to him, his soul shall speak to me. This I seek, so mote it be.”
When 55-year-old earth-witch, Annah-Belle Henderson, cast a spell for love she never envisioned her wish would be granted in the young nephew of her longtime friend. With a face that rivals the Norse god Thor, and a body to match, the charismatic Eric Ashworth draws Annah into a dizzying current of emotions. Should she accept the chance for love with a man twenty years younger or reject her feelings?
As a past darkness threatens to destroy her, Annah makes a decision that begins a journey fraught with judgement, betrayal, and perhaps death.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/wSTe12lUUBo
About the Author:
Tinthia Clemant was born in Medford, Massachusetts, over sixty years ago. In other words, she's old! As a child, she lived happily in a loving home with her three siblings and mother and father. She always wrote. From the time she first picked up a pencil, or perhaps it was a crayon, she wrote. Love stories. Happy stories. Stories about love with happy endings. Her first book was self-published. (At the tender age of seven, she stapled the pages together and presented it to her mother on Mother's Day.)
As contemporary women's fiction's newest author, Tinthia fell in love with love stories and true love when she first learned about true love's first kiss. That did it for her! Unfortunately, she has yet to find that special kiss. Throwing her arms up in defeat, she decided to write about it and live vicariously through her characters.
Tinthia lives on the banks of the Concord River and spends her time teaching science at a local community college, gardening, painting, feeding her multitude of Mallards (follow her natural history blog at: concordriverlady.com), reading, and, of course, writing contemporary women's fiction about romance, relationships, and true love. She also enjoys Chunky Monkey and American Dream Cone and other enticing flavors produced by Ben and Jerry.
The orange head of the match ignited with a flash. Slender fingers held it under the dried kindling. Within seconds, the splintered wood was ablaze, licking up the sides of an oak log, triggering the release of rose-scented oil. Except for the glow cast by the blaze, darkness shrouded the night. Brown eyes peered out from beneath long black bangs. Dressed in white with a pale shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Annah resembled a specter—one who had traveled from outside the realm of the living to watch the dance of the flames. She held a single red rose—an offering for Aphrodite, the Goddess of love.
When the fire reached its fevered peak, she dropped the rose into the inferno and murmured, “Aphrodite, accept my gift as I cast my wish on this Midsummer’s Eve.” The rose stem coiled, and the petals withered under the heat of the hungry flames.
Annah slid her hand into the pocket of her pants and removed a piece of green paper, two cones of sandalwood incense, and five apple seeds. On the paper, in scarlet ink, were written the words to a love spell. “The true love I desire shall come to me. I am the lock he is the key. As mine to him, his soul shall speak to me. This I seek, so mote it be.”
To reinforce the spell two additional recitations were required. During the second reading, she allowed the paper to float onto the engulfed log. The incense cones and seeds followed as she recited the spell a final time. When Annah ended with ‘so mote it be’ a breeze swept through the fire pit and the flames extended scorching fingers toward the heavens. Her canine companion released a soft whimper. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Lexy.”
Annah stared into the blaze. “Druids believe it’s possible to see the faces of loves and enemies in an enchanted fire. I wonder.” At first she saw just the ravenous flames but soon an image took shape. A smile emerged. Loving eyes peered back at her as one of the incense cones exploded, sending hot sparks into the perfumed air. The smile turned into a sneer as the wail of a lone coyote pierced the night, bristling her fifty-pound Australian Shepherd’s composure. A series of responding growls emanated from Lexy, but they did little to assuage the sense of unease that passed through Annah. She backed away from the chimenea and sat on the nearby stone bench. “Probably best to leave the fire reading to the Druids.”
Next to the bench rested a small wicker basket. Its contents, in addition to the bottle of rose oil, included a thermos, teacup, and her cell phone. Annah dropped the box of matches into the basket and withdrew her phone. With a swipe of the screen, she found the song she wanted to play. While the voice of Etta James accompanied her Annah opened the thermos and poured amber-colored liquid, still steamy and hot, into the cup. Before taking a sip, she raised it high, toasted the Goddess, and then bid the ashes that ascended into the starlit sky success as they delivered her wish. The current returned and spiraled within the fire. It carried the scented heat toward her, enveloping her in its warm embrace.
It was past one when Annah switched off the bedside lamp and lay in the darkened bedroom. Behind her bed, an open window granted access to the night air. A quiet breeze breathed life into the backyard’s wind chimes. Entering the room, it carried a subtle hint of sandalwood on its gentle waves. Circling Annah, it stroked her cheeks, softly caressing her lips. Entering that hazy place between dreams and reality, her mind gave shape to her last thought of the day. This will be my summer, a summer for true love.
Monday, September 19, 2016
About the Author
Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning and best-selling novelist of horror, paranormal, and science fiction novels. He's written ten books including the best-selling “Brood X”, “Stillwell”, “The Flip”, “The After House”, “The Hanging Tree”, “Witches Protection Program”, “Pokergeist”, "Monsterland", "The History Major", and “Battle for Darracia” series. Michael’s books are on the Amazon best-seller list and have also won numerous awards. Additionally, he is a screenwriter with 14 specs under his belt. Michael resides on the North Shore of Long Island.
Michael’s latest book is The History Major.
For More Information
• Visit Michael Phillip Cash’s website.
• Connect with Michael on Facebook and Twitter.
About the Book:
Title: The History Major
Author: Michael Phillip Cash
Publisher: Chelshire, Inc.
After a vicious fight with her boyfriend followed by a night of heavy partying, college freshman Amanda Greene wakes up in her dorm room to find things are not the same as they were yesterday. She can't quite put her finger on it. She's sharing her room with a peculiar stranger. Amanda discovers she's registered for classes she would never choose with people that are oddly familiar. An ominous shadow is stalking her. Uncomfortable memories are bubbling dangerously close to her fracturing world, propelling her to an inevitable collision between fantasy and reality. Is this the mother of all hangovers or is something bigger happening?
For More Information
• The History Major is available at Amazon.
• Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
• Watch the Trailer.
“You again!” The professor pointed a long finger at her angrily. “If you had bothered to read my treatise on logic, you would understand the chain of thought! Care to share what you have learned these past few classes with your puerile friend, Mr. Fortune?” he demanded.
The room was deathly silent. Amanda shrank into her chair. Nick turned to her.
Wait, she thought frantically. Past few classes? Where have I been? Did I miss something? Did I miss class? Amanda’s fisted hands forced small semicircular indentations from the pressure of her nails into the tender skin of her palms. Was this a dream? Her mind worked feverously, trying to piece things together. “What’s today’s date?” she demanded, her eyes wide with mounting horror.
Nick went on, ignoring her. “What I think our esteemed professor is trying to point out is that the chain of thought results in a systematic group of memories that create the laws of association. The professor believes”—he glanced up to the teacher as if for confirmation—“that past experiences are hidden within our minds.” The older man nodded sagely. “He claims there is a force that awakens these memories. That power is association.”
Amanda looked at Nick and then glanced uncertainly at the professor. It was like looking through a tunnel. Their voices came as if from a distance.
“Yes, Mr. Fortune. Logic, once again. First we have the experience, then the memory, which fades. We stimulate the brain with an image, and there you have it.” He snapped his fingers. “The memory is activated by the…” He bent down, peering at Amanda expectantly.
Nick whispered from the side of his mouth helpfully, “Association.”
“Association,” Amanda repeated weakly.
“Yes,” Nick said quietly. “Aristotle’s theory on association.”
“Aristotle?” Amanda exhaled the name. She looked from Nick to the educator on the stage and giggled. “Is this a joke, like where teachers dress like historical figures?” Or a dream?
“Silence!” the teacher’s voice thundered. He stalked over to stand right before Amanda, his silver brows drawn together. The room was deathly silent. Amanda gulped so loudly, she swore she could hear it amplified in the room.
Stadium of Lights: A Second Chance Sports Romance
Publication date: September 19th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Sports
He can’t help claiming her. But can he love her?
Max Anderson enjoys all the perks of being a star NFL quarterback―including the women. He has no intention of changing his carefree, hard-loving lifestyle … until a twist of fate reunites him with the girl he knew growing up.
Abby Morrison has worked hard to become a physical therapist. She knows she needs to keep things professional with Max — but the truth is, she’s always loved him. Back then, she hid it. Now, it’s not so easy.
As they rekindle their friendship, the heat between them is impossible to ignore. Soon it flares out of control, and the fallout threatens to ruin everything. Can they salvage a future together … or will the consequences wreck their lives?
I thought back to all the times she had stood by and watched me with my many girlfriends and hookups. Whenever I had a problem with any of them, I’d ask her what to do since she was a girl. I never once thought of her the way I thought of them, not once. And when I met her again, that same old image was in my head. The dorky, geeky girl with glasses who always bumped into things and knocked them over, who didn’t have any friends except for me. When the other kids would ask why I was friends with her, I could never explain why. It was probably because of that early friendship, back when we were little kids. I couldn’t just drop her because she wasn’t cool. She was my little sis.
My little sis had grown up, but I made her cry when I reminded her of the girl she used to be. How stupid! I finally understood why she had cried the day before. I kept thinking of her as the old girl, who she obviously hated. I wouldn’t let her be the new person she’d become. I was so blind.
It was actually sort of funny, watching the guys trade places just so they could sit with her. When Trey got up for another plate, Joe took his place. Brett took Randy’s place. On and on, and Abby just kept drinking her wine and laughing and having fun. I just kept watching to see who would ask to take her home.
The time came around nine o’clock when we’d all stuffed ourselves. Abby stood up from the table, a little wobbly. I swooped in, waiting for her to decide it was time to go.
“Come on. I’ll take you home,” I murmured, taking her by the elbow. She looked up at me.
“No,” she murmured.
“No. I don’t want you to take me home. Now will you move?”
“Wait. Slow down.”
“I want somebody else, Max. Now move.”
“Anybody. It doesn’t matter. Just not you.” She shook me off—thank God we’d both been whispering, or practically, because it didn’t seem like anybody else noticed. I followed her out the door to the restaurant’s entrance.
“You can’t drive in this condition,” I warned her.
“Then I’ll get a cab. You can leave now.” She glared at me, her cheeks flushed.
“You ruined it. You always ruin it.”
“How the hell did I ruin anything?”
She looked back into the restaurant, frowning. “I was having fun. People were talking to me, seeing me, liking me. And you had to take over like you always do.”
My car pulled up in front of us, and I took the keys from the valet. “Come on. I’ll drive you home, and we can talk about it on the way.” I practically threw her into the car before she could curse me out, then got in myself. Once I locked the doors from my side, she couldn’t open them.
“What the fuck Max!” She slapped the dashboard, then sank into her seat with a groan. “I was having fun. I was about to get laid, damn it!”
I bit my tongue until I calmed down. “By whom?”
“I don’t know! What did it matter? I was gonna get some for me, for once. And you won’t let me. I have to always be there for you, but you can never be there for me. You couldn’t just let me enjoy myself. No, you probably wanted to tell me all about your stupid fucking cheerleader girlfriend and ask me what you should do about her!” There was so much venom in her voice. She hated me.
I pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “What are you doing?” she asked. I unbuckled my belt without saying a word, then turned to her.
“You wanna know why I wanted to take you home?” I reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders. I pulled her to me before she could push me away and crushed my mouth against hers.
She only fought me for a split second before giving in. She sighed, relaxing, and I wrapped my arms around her. Her lips were so sweet, soft and yielding. When I slid my tongue between them, they opened to give me better access. I tasted the inside of her mouth, taking my time. This girl who had been my friend for so long, and she was right—I’d used her in a way. This girl who was always there for me without asking anything in return. This sexy, incredible girl.
The kiss deepened, with her tongue dancing alongside mine. She wrapped her arms around my neck, almost growling. Sounding hungry, desperate. I ran one of my hands over her body, listening to the way the breath caught in her throat. She whined a little, pressing against me, and when I made contact with her tits she moaned into my mouth.
By the time the kiss ended, we were both breathless. Her eyes were wide, stunned.
“That’s why,” I whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text LEWIS to 31996 or go to: www.NextBookRelease.com
Tia Lewis is a romance author from the Midwest who writes about smart, sexy, sassy women and hot, possessive alpha males. Her favorite bad boys to write about include sports players, mafia, bikers, billionaires and the bad-ass next door. You can find her cooking, reading, or traveling when she’s not busy working on her next release.
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Thursday, September 15, 2016
From USA Today bestselling author Meghan March comes another dangerously sexy alpha hero…
The only permanent thing in my life is the ink I put on my clients.
I drift from city to city, in and out of beds, from one tattoo shop to the next.
Every time I start to put down roots, I rip them up.
Until New Orleans.
She’s everything I’m not.
Full of fire and life. An innocent where I’m a sinner.
I want to consume her. Protect her. Keep her.
But first, I have to escape from beneath these shadows.
Beneath These Shadows is a STANDALONE romance set in the world of the Beneath series. You DO NOT have to read any other books in the series to enjoy it.
Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She's also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she's ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at firstname.lastname@example.org.
bu Deanna Cabinian
Genre: YA Contemporary
Release Date: September 5th 2016
Summary from Goodreads:
Thompson may be only seventeen but he knows he’s just checked into Heartbreak Hotel for good, now that his girlfriend, Caroline, has put an end to their burning love. Since then he’s been sleepwalking through his summer job at Super Kmart while desperately dreaming of ways to win her back. He even drops by the Tiki House on Elvis Presley Night hoping that she, a diehard fan of the “King of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” will be there as well. That’s when he meets Johnny Lee Young—real estate agent by day, Hawaii’s Favorite Elvis Impersonator by night—and the lovesick teen’s world suddenly takes a wild and unexpected turn.
As luck would have it, Johnny needs a temporary assistant to help with equipment and social media and Thompson eagerly accepts the offer, hoping it will distract him from his painful and lingering romantic issues. But like Thompson, Johnny is nursing a secret heartbreak and pining for his own lost love. So the new roadie starts making plans—with a little help from his friends Ronnie and Greta—to accompany the counterfeit King on an odyssey of a lifetime that will take them far from their island paradise home in search of true love.
Add to Goodreads
About the Author
Deanna Cabinian has worked in radio, television, and magazine publishing, but her greatest passion is writing. A graduate of Northern Illinois University, she has a bachelor’s degree in journalism and a Master’s degree in sport management. She writes from wherever she happens to be, but the majority of her writing is done from Chicago.
When she isn’t writing she enjoys traveling and spending time with her husband and family.
Blog Tour Organized by:
YA Bound Book Tours
Hallowread is a book festival and mini-con for authors and fans of Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Steam Punk and Horror.
October 21-23 2016 in Havre de Grace, Maryland!
Multi author event with various activities throughout the weekend including Writing Workshops, Ghost Tour, SteamPunk Author Tea, Author Panels, Book Signing, Paranormal Investigation and so much more. Hang out with your favorite authors in our new host city, the haunted and historic town of Havre de Grace, Maryland!
Local Maryland author of dark urban fantasy, Rachel Rawlings, had a crazy idea. Create a book convention for genre fiction and hold it the weekend before Halloween. Haunted and historic Ellicott City held a special place in her heart so there was no other place to take her first ever convention. The town welcomed her and HallowRead with open arms. Each ticket sold helped raise money for the Ellicott City Partnership- a coalition of residents and business owners for the betterment of the town. HallowRead raised money for projects like rain barrels which help reduce the sediment and contaminants running into the Patapsco River and fund grants for projects like Paint Main Street which helped small business owners get a much needed fresh coat of paint improving the moral and over all appearance of the town.
Rachel is excited to take the convention on the road for 2016 and raise funds for Harford County literacy programs and the local library system! One ticket, whether it’s a $10 paranormal investigation or the full monty ticket, makes a difference for the town and the wonderful people who call it home, something Rachel is extremely proud of.
Click here to see a list of HallowRead events http://hallowread.com/events/
Get your tickets here: http://hallowread.com/tickets/
See a list of attending authors here: http://hallowread.com/authors/
Author Opportunities still available!
Interested in participating in HallowRead?
Registration of $35.00 includes a feature on panels, the signing, website and social media, plus other special incentives!
About the Founder of Hallowread:
Rachel Rawlings was born and raised in the Baltimore Metropolitan area. Her family, originally from Rhode Island, spent summers in New England sparking her fascination with Salem, MA. She has been writing fictional stories and poems since middle school, but it wasn't until 2009 that she found the inspiration to create her heroine Maurin Kincaide and complete her first full length novel, The Morrigna.
When she isn't writing, Rachel can often be found with her nose buried in a good book. An avid reader of Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, Horror and Steampunk herself, Rachel founded Hallowread- an interactive convention for both authors and fans of those genres.
More information on Hallowread, its schedule of events and participating authors can be found at www.hallowread.blogspot.com and www.facebook.com/Hallowread .
She still lives in Maryland with her husband and three children.
Goodreads Author Page http://goo.gl/FZW0RN
Amazon Author Page http://goo.gl/Q6Ubn1
I’m a sucker for Halloween. You know the mom who tags along behind her kids in full costume, even when there’s no adult party afterward? Yep, that’s me. Because Halloween is not about the candy—okay, okay, it’s not entirely about the candy. Most importantly, Halloween is the holiday that celebrates the imagination, especially the dark side of the imagination. Also, it’s the one night of the year when I can dress up as Bellatrix and chase all of the little Harry Potters around the cul-de-sac screaming “I killed Sirius Black!” without the neighbors thinking I’m deranged and calling Child Protective Services.
So when my friend, writer Alys Arden, mentioned Hallowread, a book festival for genre fiction readers and writers that is held the weekend before Halloween, I was intrigued. A ghost tour, a palm reading, and a chance to interact with fans of spooky stories?
Count me in.
And that was before I discovered that Hallowread is going on the road this year. Instead of its usual locale of Ellicott City, the 2016 festival is being held in Havre de Grace, Maryland – which just happens to be one of the settings for my new book that launches this October, The Delphi Effect.
Count me in double.
The Delphi Effect is the story of a seventeen-year-old Anna who has the unfortunate ability to pick up ghostly “hitchers.” Anna’s latest mental hitchhiker is Molly, who wants Anna to assist in tracking down the man who murdered her and added her left pinky to his growing collection of souvenirs taken from his victims. Helping Molly drags Anna into a conspiracy that reaches to the highest levels of government, and also sheds light on the origin of her psychic abilities.
Like my previous series, The CHRONOS Files, the Delphi Trilogy begins in the DC area. The last half of The Delphi Effect, however, takes place in Havre de Grace and also in (well, mostly, under) the abandoned Bainbridge Naval Training Station in nearby Port Deposit, Maryland.
The Port Deposit site, which has been abandoned since the 1990s, was originally constructed in 1894 as The Tome School for Boys. In 1942, it was repurposed as a training center for World War II troops, along with additional land on the hills above the Susquehanna River. Sadly, one of the most iconic buildings, Memorial Hall, caught fire back in 2014. My own sources suggest that the fire was caused by a kid with pyrokinetic powers, but I suppose the police theory of teen vandalism is plausible, too.
Rumors that the location is haunted have persisted for years. The intrepid photographer I interviewed during my research found several creepy messages like the one pictured below inside the abandoned school. And while those messages might have been left by other corporal visitors, rather than by ghosts from a bygone era, the photographer noted that if he had it to do over, he’d start earlier in the day, rather than waiting until nearly dusk. You can see more images from the Tome School on my website. (The buildings are now closed to visitors, but tours of the campus are offered during the summer months.)
The town of Havre de Grace also boasts its share of ghosts. Maybe the readers and writers at Hallowread will spot a few on our ghost tour through the city. If you’re able to join us, and you encounter an apparition who’s missing a pinky, tell Molly to be patient. Anna’s coming soon.
One Summer with Autumn
Published by: Swoon Romance
Publication date: October 11th 2016
Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Seventeen-year-old Autumn Teslow arrives at her father’s job fair knowing she’ll never measure up to the perfect image of daddy’s little girl—her twin sister.
Wearing anger management issues like a second skin won’t help Autumn win her dad’s approval for the big trip she’s been planning—or meet his condition that she successfully complete a summer internship for college.
Autumn’s cool unravels when her sister lectures against disappointing the family again. And when a young, bearded guy steps through the crowd to settle the growing argument between siblings, Autumn lashes out, dubbing him a “Duck Dynasty wannabe.”
At Nineteen, Caden Behr is clueless as to why his man parts are threatened by the fearsome girl before him. He’d only come to find an intern for his recreational equipment company, not break up a girl-fight between two sisters.
Unfortunately, the only candidate left is the girl who just told him off. Without her, he’ll never prove to his CEO mother that he’s ready for more responsibility.
Autumn and Caden agree that if they can keep from killing one another, they can use one another to get what they want and then never have to see each other again. Which is what they want.
Until it isn’t.
Because despite her best efforts to scare him off, and his fading desire to push her into the lake, they’re beginning to enjoy the time they spend together. But pride is a hard habit to break. And if neither will admit their changing feelings, they could lose a whole lot more than one summer.
As a child, Julie’s summers were about horseback riding and fishing, while winter brought sledding and ice-skating on frozen ponds. Most of life was magical, but not all. She struggled with multiple learning disabilities, and spent much of her time gazing out windows and daydreaming. In the fourth grade (with the help of one very nice teacher) she fought dyslexia for her right to read and won.
Afterward, she invented stories where powerful heroines kicked bad-guy butt to win the hearts charismatic heroes. And then she wrote one down…
Writing ever since, Julie weaves southern gothic, contemporary, fantasy, and young adult romances. She enjoys sweeping tales of mystery and epic adventure… which must include a really hot guy. Her writing is proof a dream and some hard work can overcome any obstacle.
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Lies I Live By
Published by: Katherine Tegen Books
Publication date: May 31st 2016
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
Romance, intrigue, and action collide in this psychic twist on the classic spy novel.
Callie Sinclair is literally out of her mind; as the government’s youngest psychic spy, she finds valuable information for top-secret missions. Her work keeps her headaches at bay, but it means she must lie to everyone she loves, including her longtime boyfriend, Charlie.
When a new psychic arrives at the office, Callie can’t help but flirt; Jasper already knows her in a way Charlie never will.
But as her love life gets more complicated, so do her visions. People halfway around the world seem to be in danger…and people in her own backyard, too. If Callie can’t find a way to alter future events, she could lose the people she loves—and her mind. Literally.
Lauren Sabel’s enthralling, romantic novel captures the thrill of exploring a unique power in a dangerous world.
Originally from the Rocky Mountains, Lauren Sabel has returned to the cool mountain air of Boulder, Colorado after living in several wonderful cities that she will always love and continue to visit year after year.
Lauren loves her husband, her kids, her family, her friends, and stories that end happily. She also loves digging into her mind and revealing tiny gems she didn’t know were there.
Lauren learned to mind dig while getting her MFA in Creative Writing from Naropa, a Buddhist college in Boulder, Colorado. Before Naropa, Lauren studied film in Rome, where she developed her love of crypts and other beautiful creepy things. She also worked in the film industry in New York and San Francisco, focusing mainly on film festivals, as she can never pass up a good party. In San Francisco she worked for Chronicle Books, where she was inducted into the fascinating world of book publishing.
For the past eight years, Lauren has been teaching college students the joys of creative writing, whether they like it or not.
In 2008, Lauren was published in Undiscovered Voices, an anthology of the best new writers for children in the U.K., where she was living at the time. Then life got very exciting very quickly. She signed with Jodi Reamer Esq. at The Writer’s House Agency in New York, and they made magic happen, and that magic is named Katherine Tegen. (aka: Katherine Tegen Publishing, Harper Collins).
Lauren's first book, VIVIAN DIVINE IS DEAD was published June 3 2014. Lauren's second book LIES I LIVE BY was released by KT Books on May 31 2016. She's currently working on her next book, which she can't wait to tell you about (but has to wait just a little while anyway).
Lauren believes that being a teenager is an act of courage, and is proud of anyone who manages to stick through it, despite the pain. :)
Publication date: September 22nd 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
I should have known he was trouble when I watched him drive his motorbike onto campus, leaving a trail of people whispering as he made his way into the Art Building.
Word around here is, he doesn’t date. So why do his eyes keep roving over me? Why does he want to talk to me?
Rumor has it, Hunter’s good at two things: making art, and getting into fights. I love art, but I can’t stand violence. I’ve been on the receiving end of it too many times.
My life is simple, it needs to be if I want to graduate and keep my eating disorder at bay… I sleep, I eat, I go to class and I definitely Do. Not. Date.
So why do I want him to hold me in his strong arms and cradle me to his broad chest?
She’s like a spooked little mouse. Not my type at all. Until she looked up at me and I was caught in her azure eyes.
But I won’t let her get close. In the last four years, I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I will never trust anyone ever again. The second I do, I’ll find myself alone again. So, what’s the use?
So I create big metal installations, I go to class when I feel like it, I drink and get into fights at the bar.
I have to stay away from Lizzy, because my darkness will only make hers worse. I know I have to, but that isn’t what my heart wants. When I see the pain in her eyes, I can’t resist her. I want to help her, touch her…
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
We are absolutely thrilled to bring you the Release Day Launch for Lorelei James’ STRUNG UP! STRUNG UP is a Blacktop Cowboys Series Novella brought to you by 1001 Dark Nights. Grab your copy today!
About STRUNG UP: A Blacktop Cowboys Novella
From New York Times bestseller Lorelei James…
Rancher Creston Grant retreats from the world after he loses the love of his life….Can his former flame, rodeo cowboy Breck Christianson prove he’s a changed man who can give Cres a second chance at love?
I believe that love is stronger than death.
That had become my mantra, my focal point in the last seven days, ten hours, and thirty-four minutes since the highway patrolman had knocked on my door.
I’m sorry to inform you that Michael Darby was involved in an accident and died at the scene. He listed you as his emergency contact.
The rest of what he’d said had been a blur.
At first I thought there’d been a mistake. Michael Darby and Mick Darby. I’d never called him Michael. He never called himself Michael. So maybe the cops had it wrong. Maybe there was another person’s life they should be destroying with this bad news that their lover was dead.
So I argued.
Then the officer calmly pulled Mick’s driver’s license out of the leather wallet I’d given him for Christmas.
And then I knew it was true.
Mick was dead.
How could he be dead?
How was that f*cking fair? He’d survived four wartime deployments overseas during his military career. Four years in hell. Only to be killed by a jack slipping and crushing him beneath the wheel of a car.
The injustice infuriated me. Mick being a good guy once again. The Samaritan who always stopped to help. Only this time his helpful nature had gotten him killed.
I wanted to yell at him for being so stupid.
But I’d never get to yell at him again. Or laugh with him. Or touch him. Or tell him I loved him.
He knew. Because you reminded him of that every day.
“Let us pray,” the minister announced.
[video width="1920" height="1080" mp4="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/Strung_Up_by_Lorelei_James_1080p.mp4"][/video]
About Lorelei James:
Lorelei James is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary erotic western romances set in the modern day Wild West and also contemporary erotic romances. Lorelei’s books have been nominated for and won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s choice Award, as well as the CAPA Award. Lorelei lives in western South Dakota with her family…and a whole closet full of cow girl boots.
From Lorelei: “Why do I have a particular fondness for all things western? Well, I’m a fourth generation South Dakotan, living in the Black Hills, which is chock-full of interesting characters, including cowboys, Indians, ranchers, and bikers. The geographical diversity of the surrounding area showcases mountains, plains, and badlands. Living in and writing about rural settings gives me a unique perspective, especially since I’m not writing historical westerns. Through my fictional world, I can show the ideals and the cowboy way of life are still very much alive.”
The Devil and My Daughter
By Josh Hancock
Genre: Supernatural thriller, Horror, Mystery
1944: In the heavy pillars of smoke that rise from the crematoriums at Auschwitz, Nazi soldiers hope to catch a glimpse of Moloch, the pagan god of child sacrifice, to whom the Third Reich owes so much of its vile success...
1977: A teenage boy writes a heavy metal song about an ancient evil spirit, unaware that the grisly lyrics will unleash a terrifying figurehead from the bowels of history...
1987: College students and best friends Debra and Charlene are determined to make a demonic possession movie more frightening than The Omen and more gruesome than The Exorcist. But when they hire a rock band to pen the film's "satanic soundtrack," the young filmmakers are confronted with a supernatural entity determined to plunge Charlene into a world of impossible terror and human sacrifice…an entity with the burning-coal eyes of a demon and the razor-sharp horns of a bull…
Written as a collection of essays, news articles, interviews, scripts, and film scholarship, The Devil and My Daughter tells a horrific story of the occult, Satanic possession, and ritual murder.
Josh Hancock is a teacher and author. His first novel, The Girls of October, was selected as one of the top ten horror novels of 2015 by Horror Novel Reviews and garnered enthusiastic reviews from Rue Morgue Magazine,Horrorcabin.com, Gorestruly.com, Nightmarish Conjurings, and We Are Indie Horror. His second novel, entitled The Devil and My Daughter, was inspired by several cult horror films, including Amando de Ossorio’s underground classic, Demon Witch Child.
On Amazon: http://amzn.to/2bBt1Qt
On B&N: http://bit.ly/2bcyIn6
Author: Georgeos C. Awgerinos
Genre: Romantic Thriller
thriller in EUGENIA:
DESTINY AND CHOICE. The title character,
Eugenia “Jenny” Corais, a Columbia University graduate, is an
idealistic young feminist and intellectual who charts her destiny against such
volatile backdrops as cabaret-era Berlin,
America during the
Civil Rights and anti-Vietnam War protests, and the violent final days of colonial
politics and romance, EUGENIA: DESTINY
AND CHOICE resembles Erich Segal’s LOVE STORY, coupled with a tale of
political intrigue that would fit comfortably in the novels of Graham Greene,
John Le Carre or
Stieg Larsson, and historical developments
reminiscent of James A. Michener.
and social consciousness, the author notes, is tempered with “a compulsive
curiosity for the weird, unusual, or forbidden. She aims at the light but she
cannot resist the temptation of the darkness.”
Dietrich Neuendorf, a charismatic and unyielding German human rights attorney
haunted by his family’s past and his country’s history. He and Jenny quickly
fall in love.
Henderson, attracts Jenny’s darker side. Despite his humble origins and
abundant charm, Henderson has a deeply
dark core. A former British colonial officer, he is the head of South Africa’s military
industrial apparatus, linked to the high echelons of international corporate
elite and secret intelligence. He is an immense figure who designs mass murder and
forced relocations on spreadsheets and is involved in some of the most defining
political acts of the 20th century.
invincible have an Achilles heel. As Awgerinos puts it, “EUGENIA doesn’t romanticize power; rather, the book demystifies the
powerful by exposing the intimate, vulnerable and disowned aspects of human
cross paths and embark on a perilous journey together in an exotic African
country, a wonder of nature that faces massive winds of historical tide and a
my characters and their interaction, I try to convey another view on love and
sexual conflict, society, human nature and beyond-natural, democracy and
collective mind control,” says Awgerinøs. “I also try to offer a historical
account about a very volatile era in a turbulent region, Southern Africa.”
thought-provoking feature motion picture or TV movie.
For MoreBook Excerpt:
hair and a wide smile, dismissed the warning of his national security advisor.
will never allow this country to be hijacked by a shadow government. In one
hour, I will reveal to the parliamentary caucus what has been going on behind
the legislative assembly. This unorthodox approach is unheard of in the history
of political affairs,” Dr. Duplessis commented, in his distinctive Wallonian
inflection. He was a long-skulled, pale-skinned man of average build, no taller
than five foot seven, with close-cropped gray hair, an icy stare, and robotic
mannerisms. He listened as the prime minister went on with his rant.
order to subordinate itself to its military industrial complex. Apartheid was
meant to protect the racial order in this country, not to become a
self-destructive debt-spiral ploy.”
Minister, and racial order is a costly agenda.”
entities, monsieur, one way or another; this country is not an
exception. With all due respect, presidents, prime ministers, even absolute
rulers are the stage protagonists in the theater called politics; they are
neither the writers, nor the producers of the show. This is a friendly
of Dr. Duplessis’s gerrymandering and intricate offstage diplomacy. He owed his
prime ministerial chair to Dr. Duplessis’s byzantine machinations, but he would
not yield to his trusted policymaker’s insolent innuendo and skillful pressure.
When he spoke again, it was apparent that he had removed from his mind the last
shadows of hesitation. The tone of his voice was conclusive.
operations units are on alert. The disarming of the Armée-Gendarmerie and the
arrests of the Concession’s board members will begin once I commence my
gathering at home. You will be there, Fabien, you promise?”
stared at the antique clock across from his oak-paneled desk. He checked once
more the printed page of his speech, which he had placed on the desk. Today he
would make an announcement signaling a shake-up in modern history, and in the
process he would settle some old scores. For a few seconds he visualized the
reaction of the caucus: a standing ovation for his daring initiative. Pleased
with this thought, he approached the window and watched the midday bustle of
Cape Town, his beloved city.
the Atlantic Ocean, with glistening coastlines and breathtaking views of Table
Mountain, Cape Town, the parliamentary capital of South Africa, is a thriving
metropolis with Dutch architecture, wide boulevards, colorful parks, and a
flourishing business district. The city’s rich history contains an intriguing
mix of European sophistication and Cape Malay exoticism that dates back to the
seventeenth century, blended with subtropical African beauty.
a paradise for all. The eye of the conscientious traveler in 1966 would
observe, from stores to parks to the sandy beaches, two signs, in Afrikaans and
English: “Slegs blankes/whites only” and “Slegs nie-blankes/non-whites only.”
Island. It appeared a tiny idyllic islet, which one might have guessed was a
fisherman’s retreat; but such was not the case. Once a leper colony, Robben
Island was one of the most infamous penitentiaries on earth. And yet, it hosted
no penal convicts but instead, civil rights activists, some of them with
world-renowned names: Govan Mbeki, Nelson Mandela, Jacob Zuma.
Capetowneans did not know existed: a district for natives only, which no whites
except the police could enter. There, the neighborhoods of Langa, Nyanga, and Guguletu resembled more a massive dumpster than a
sprawling suburbia. Newly built project buildings that reminded one of
barracks sat beside wooden shacks with tin roofs. African women washed their
clothes in rusty bins with boiled water outside their slum dwellings. Their
children, most barefoot, played soccer with tin cans in dirt alleys with
numbers for names, such as NY1 or NY4, which stood for native yards, as the
city called these dusty, unpaved lanes.
the South African Republic made his entry to the House of Assembly to deliver
podium, a man with Mediterranean features dressed in a messenger’s uniform
entered the building. He crossed unchecked through the heavily guarded lobby
and approached the podium. Within seconds, the messenger pulled a dagger out of
his jacket and stabbed the prime minister four times in the chest.
Parliamentary members rushed to pin the assassin to the ground, while the PM’s
blood gushed from the gaping wounds in his chest. An ambulance rushed him to
the Groote Schuur Hospital, but it was too late. He was pronounced dead on
the staggering news. From nations opposed to the apartheid regime came lead stories
declaring: “Demetris Tsafendas, the son of a Greek immigrant and an African
woman from Mozambique, assassinated Dr. Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, the prime
architect of apartheid.” Conversely the local media stated: “A mentally
disturbed extremist assassinated the father of white South Africa, motivated by
hatred and rage.” The African underground press was jubilant: “Tsafendas
inyanga yezizwe—Tsafendas, the healer of the nation!”
houses below the campus of the University of Cape Town. Cars carrying
government officials and parliamentary members came and went. It was after
midnight when the gates of a palatial mansion opened, and three stretch
limousines with black-tinted glass made their exit. The convoy moved slowly
down Belleview Road, encountering little traffic. Police patrols created a
strong presence that night. In the second car of the motorcade, two men sat in the back of the limousine. One was a
short, plump gentleman in his sixties. After looking nervously at the car
following them, he reached for the limo’s bar and took a bottle.
he said and poured some into a shot glass.
conspicuous English accent. He was a towering man
with broad shoulders, a wide face with a prominent jawline, and a thick
mustache. He resembled a nineteenth-century British colonial military officer.
Oddly, he wore a safari pith helmet, like a jungle explorer ready to hunt his
prey. He lit up and silently puffed on his cigar. He sat comfortably,
apparently enjoying his smoke. At one point, he too glanced back to face the
limo that was following. The headlights illuminated his face, showing a
man in his late forties with harsh features and piercing dark eyes.
puffing his fat Havana.
government and the Southern African Development
Concession to sign the agreement. The armaments production executive
board will be replaced, and within a week the shopping list will be on
your desk, Mr. Henderson.”
part of South Africa’s apparatus, and we need our territory secured. We cannot
intervene every time some careless bureaucrat in your administration oversteps
or defies our initial arrangements.”
that secures our role in this country’s future. You did it with the Oppenheimer gold and diamond cartel; you will
do it with us too.”
was the Wild South. This is 1966.”
Wild South. Africa is made by monopolies
for monopolies; the Concession would have to refuse anything less. Without the
Southern African Development Concession, apartheid will fall swiftly like a shack in a gale. You know that as
well as I, Minister.”
cut made apparent his role as secret security rather than a mere chauffeur.
Henderson puffed his Havana contemplatively while he rolled past the closed
stores of Belleview Road. The South African minister of defence and national
security refilled his glass.
we enter a new period of friendly cooperation for both sides.”
at his watch.
but I enjoy myself every time I am in the Cape, especially tonight.”
author of EUGENIA: DESTINY AND CHOICE was born and raised in Athens Greece. He lives in New York City.
PARALLELS BETWEEN “LOVE STORY” AND EUGENIA’S STORY
By Georgeos C. Awgerinos author of Eugenia: Destiny and Choice
I have been asked by interviewers and potential readers if EUGENIA has analogies to Erich W. Segal’s “Love Story.” Well, not quite. Both novels, unfold inside the campus of an Ivy League University and are about young students falling in love and dreaming to live happily ever after. Both female characters are witty fast talking intellectuals, the kind of young muse who would inspire their male partner, both dark haired with Mediterranean last names. Both are Jennies; Segal’s protagonist is Jennifer, my novel’s heroine is Eugenia. Both male protagonists study Law and excel in sports. However, the tale of Oliver and Jennifer has a Shakespearean dramatic progress, their love is deep and unwavering.
Jenny’s and Dietrich’s love affair is complicated, has many shadows and it is continuously bumpy despite the intellectual compatibility and the deep passion that bonds the two young students. Eugenia’s parents were Greek refugees who saw their families getting exterminated during the Nazi occupation of Greece and fled their country hastily in order to escape arrest from the Gestapo, the Nazi Secret Police. On Thanksgiving Day 1967, just before the family feast, their daughter walked in their living-room holding hands with a young German student who stubbornly avoided to discuss his family’s war past. Dietrich loves deeply Eugenia, but unlike Oliver, he is phlegmatic and composed. Jenny’s passionate outbursts and impulsive temper doesn’t complement Dietrich’s cold demeanor and the two argue frequently. Jenny comes from a protective family and, unlike Dietrich, she has little real-life exposure; when she will find herself in Africa her idealistic perceptions will be put to the test; soon she will come across an even darker side of herself she never knew existed.
Segal’s romance is focused on the relationship of two young students and the adversities they face as a couple. Eugenia and Dietrich’s love story is a component of a historical saga and political thriller about Rhodesia, South-Africa’s little known northern neighbor; a break-up British colony with a white-supremacist
government, a militarized surveillance apparatus and a white minority, nostalgic of a bygone colonial era, living in deliberate denial of the winds of change in Africa, oblivious to the millions of resentful natives who surrounded them, and the revolution that was fast approaching.