Monday, March 31, 2014

Crooked Is the New Perfect: Part One by KaceyMark

Crooked Is the New Perfect: Part One

There went that heavy, feral sigh of his.
Like a male lion. Large and sated most of the time. Patient and dismissive to most things, but there's a power banked under there somewhere.
I've never actually heard the man roar. Though stories from his friends indicate that I never want to.
The man is sexy. Even when he's irritated.
Though I can't mention it to him now, or we'll never get anything done.

I look up from my rows of two-by-fours that are half brushed with wood stain, to the pergola frame that he's been working on all weekend. "What's wrong, baby," I ask.
"It's crooked. This thing won't line up worth a damn. Not in any direction."
I chuckle. This should come as no surprise to either of us. The man that owned our home prior must have been The Crooked Man.

I'm sure most people have heard the rhyme:
There was a Crooked Man, and he walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile...and so on.

I think our crooked man must have bought a lifetime supply of beer with his sixpence and decided that in his boozy stupor, he should build a house.
But I don't look at it as a disaster. It's just another challenge.
There is no greater joy for me, than to see the potential of my surroundings...and then turn those dreams into a reality.
Just like in my writing career.
My bestest boy and I seem to learn a new trade every summer. We have more high-impact projects running than we really have time for.
But somehow we always find the time.
Because this is our passion.
Well--next to writing, of course.
And reaping the benefits of telling the man how sexy he is.

His easy stride crosses the yard to where I am.
He sits next to me. Expels another sigh.
I try not to smile.
"What do you recommend?" I ask.
"We have two choices. Build it to fit, or build it square." He took a deep breath. His tourmaline-blue eyes narrowed in the afternoon sun as he looked to the raised patio. "If we build it square, it'll show. And the usable space on the patio will become much smaller."
"Well, build it to fit then, I guess." We've dealt with enough odd curves and wayward thinking in this home, that the conclusion, for me, is easier to come to.
If we roll with the imperfections, we end up with more character, just like in writing.
"Yeah." He finally agreed.
He sat silent for a while, just watching me work. I know it takes him a while to work through things and to accept a difficult decision. Sometimes I feel that way too.

But just like in writing, once you accept an abrupt change in direction and work with what you have, the adventure continues in ways you don't expect.

"It'll be perfect," I assure him.
"We'll see."
(to be continued)

Kacey Mark

Friday, March 28, 2014

Holding Off for a Hero - looking for an HEA

Author Interview with Frasier MacKenzie, hero of “Holding Off for a Hero.”

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Author Gail MacMillan:
Hello, Frasier. I understand you’re miffed about my sending heroine Emma Prescott to live in the cabin next to yours in the wilderness of Loon Lake. Would you care to explain?

 You do recall she had a bachelorette party the first week she lived beside me complete with music blasting

until 3:00 a.m. and male stripper who just happened to be her friend. Why did you have to move that woman up there to live? Oh sure, she’s beautiful, she’s bright, she’s funny, she’s fearless. She’s everything a man could want in a woman…except that she’s got this notorious love ‘em and leave ‘em reputation…which blows it for me. She’s left a train of broken hearts a mile long behind her and the irony of it is, these guys still think she’s wonderful.
Furthermore, she’s been nothing but trouble from page one. She and her Pug keep me constantly rescuing her from one scrape after another. From skunks to bears, they stumble into one mess after another. Good thing I’m around to save her sexy little hide. Not so sure about that Pug.

Finally Miss Emma tells me the reason for the men in her past. Apparently she’s holding off for a hero…a genuine fight-for-the- right, always-brave-and strong-and-caring hero. Some kind of Hercules with a tender side. Well, lady, let me tell you…I’m not about to become Mr. October on her calendar of try-outs and I’m pretty darned sure I won’t turn out to be her hero, what with her making all kinds of disparaging remarks about my job of hunting down the illusive eastern panther as a waste of government funds.

So end of the line for Emma and me, right? Even if she hadn’t broken dozens of hearts, it could never work…not with her annoying Pug scrambling to turn my German shepherd guard dog into a big, playful pup and getting into one mess after another. So you see, lady, you’d better move Emma Prescott out of that mountain cabin and let me get on with my life.

There’s no way you’re going to pull a happily ever after out of this no-win situation!

Thursday, March 27, 2014

STRANGE BEGINNINGS by Jane Whitney-Clark


Jane Whitney-Clark

Ideas for a novel can come from the strangest places and at the most unexpected times.

Several years ago, I was researching some local historical information in the small college town of Bluffton, OH. In doing so, I was referred to a delightful, elderly gentleman, Herman Hilty, whose passion was storytelling. Talking non-stop, he took me on a personal tour of the area. Although all of his stories were quite interesting and packed with details, after nearly three hours, my feet were getting tired and, I have to confess, my brain was feeling rather overloaded. And then he showed me the Swinging Bridge.

This suspended wooden footbridge is located in the Bluffton Nature Preserve and was used a hundred years ago primarily to move cows from one pasture to another, without having to use the roads. As we walked across that bridge on a sunny Spring day, I found myself thinking how scary it would be to cross this bridge at night, and with the rocky creek fifteen feet below us, I also thought that a fall from this foot bridge might very well prove deadly. I told Mr. Hilty that perhaps this bridge would make an atmospheric setting for a romantic suspense novel and his eyes sparkled. Then
he made me promise to include his name somehow in any future book.

On March 27, 2014, THE MAID'S SECRET, will be available on Kindle and, sure enough, there is a swinging bridge and a charmingly spry handyman named Mr. Hilty.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Read a romance and visit Alaska - Book Spotlights

Saga of Sourdough Red
Pinkie Paranya 

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 Jennifer Kileen, an Ohio farm girl, journeys to Alaska toward the end of the gold rush to search for her twin brother, Jeremy. He'd sent a torn map and a plea for help to their father, unaware that both parents had perished during an influenza epidemic. Jenny takes her kid brother with her, but to travel more freely she is disguised as a young man, hiding her one vanity, her long red hair, under a hat. Jenny and David start their journey surviving a storm at sea, make a harrowing trip up the dreaded Valdez Glacier, and are pursued by an unknown but relentless villain throughout their journey. Two men fall in love with her—Captain Mitch, a dashing, handsome ship's captain, and Neal Erickson, a doctor who gave up his profession to do survey work in the wilderness. Will Jenny choose the right man? Does she find her long-lost brother?


"Shush, Jennifer, don't get upset. I'm not complete, I tell you. I've nothing to offer. You deserve better."

"You're probably right." Her voice quaked just a bit with the struggle to maintain her dignity. Had she told him she loved him when they were in the midst of passion? It was hard to remember, but maybe he didn't remember, either.

He got to his feet and walked a short way to peer over the rail. When he looked at her, his face was in the shadows, his expression unreadable.

"You're a strong-minded woman, but also you're soft and romantic and mischievous. Everything a man should find exciting in a mate. And you'll find the right man soon, sweet Jenny. The wonder is that it hasn't happened before this. When you do, you'll thank me for being honest with you." He turned and walked away.

Jenny sat for a long time, even after the air was so cold that she began to shiver. She'd offered herself to this man, and he'd spurned her. Tears crowded into her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Boo crept out from behind the chair and nudged his head under her hand, as if wanting to comfort her. She was beyond comfort, and it wasn't only the cold that made her numb. How could she face him for the rest of the journey and pretend there was no distance between them?

Later, lying in her bunk with her hands behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling. Where did she go wrong? She accepted the fact that the miners saw her as one of them, a robust, sturdy survivor. Maybe not Ivar, but she didn't love Ivar. Same as Neal didn't love her.

Jenny listened to the sound of the ship plowing through the water toward Fairbanks.

Prime Catch
Ilona Fridl

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Someone is killing executives in a string of Alaskan canneries. Is it natives because their food supply is being cut short? Or is there another reason, another culprit? With racial tension running high, Juneau's Sheriff Amos Darcy, a man of few words, is going to find out who it is, come hell or high water.

Deputy Sarah Lakat, a Tlingit woman, knows her job, but she wants to prove her people aren't responsible for these vicious crimes. Her family and childhood friends give her access to clues the white sheriff would never have discovered, though, and she has to realize justice must be served no matter who the murderers are.

Amos is married to his work and Sarah was badly hurt by a man in her past, yet as they work together in the investigation they grow close, facing danger and discrimination together. Can they solve the case even as they fight their attraction to each other?


Every nerve in Amos’ body was alert with a flood of adrenaline. He hated putting Sarah in danger, but she was a deputy and a good shot, so he couldn’t tell her not to do her job. Halfway to the porch steps, the door banged open and Bobby stepped out with a double-barreled shotgun that he leveled at Amos. “And what would you like, Sheriff? I don’t remember inviting you over.”

“I have a warrant for your arrest in the killing of Mr. Thornton at the cannery. Now, we can do this easy. Just pass the shotgun to me and come along peacefully.”

“The hell I will! Get off my property!”

Amos dropped and rolled as the shotgun fired, then heard answering fire and saw Bobby fold to the porch, clutching his knee. Amos ran up the steps and grabbed the abandoned shotgun while Sarah holstered her weapon and hurried to help.

Amos leaned the shotgun against the railing and slapped the handcuffs on Bobby almost simultaneously, and then he set to work cutting the knee of Bobby’s trousers to check the wound.

Bobby yelled at Sarah at the top of his lungs. “You god-damned traitor! I'm shot by a turncoat woman who won’t defend her own kind!”

“Who’s my own kind, Bobby? A band of murderous animals who kill for what they want? No, that’s not my kind.” She picked up the shotgun and pointed it at Bobby. “I prefer to be on the law-abiding side.”

January Journey
Barbara Stremikis  

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 Frozen rivers, ice bridges, and runaway huskies are romantic tales of the Iditarod Sled Dog Race, until Andy Middleton moves to Alaska. She soon discovers there is more to mushing than standing on the back of a sled. The brooding photographer, Ryan North, who rescues her from a fall is no help whatsoever. After she bribes him to teach her to mush, and they are forced to spend the night in a bitter storm, Andy discovers a talented, competent man.

The last thing Ryan North wants is to get involved with the foolish redhead from SnowDen Kennels. She nearly hit him with her Jeep, and she has a temper to match her hair. While he doesn’t trust her, he admires her unfailing resilience and forthright determination.


“Ohhh, so you’re the new hire.” He lifted a brow and glanced at the hole in the dog food building.

She followed his gaze, before her attention diverted to an unusually handsome profile. Dark hair curled slightly over his forehead. Tall with muscular arms, he looked to be somewhere in his early twenties. “I guess the shed needs repairs too,” she admitted.

“And you’re the girl who plans on running the Iditarod.” His lips curved into a smirk. “Cassandra, is it?”

At his skeptical tone in reference to her name and intentions, she stiffened. Alex Snowden had been talking. “I go by Andy and I’m not a girl.” At barely five feet two, she hated being misjudged. Her freckles didn’t help. “I’m twenty-one and taking online classes at the University of Alaska.” At least, she had registered for one. “I plan to be a veterinarian. That should qualify me to run the Iditarod. I also ski and have good balance.” She knew she sounded naïve.

His brows shot up. “You’re comparing ski poles with a team of huskies?” He gave a derisive laugh and nodded toward her Jeep. “Mushing the Iditarod is a lot tougher than driving a car…and a heck of a lot more dangerous. I don’t mean to sound sexist, but man-handling a sled over a thousand miles of Alaska’s roughest terrain isn’t like sitting on a cushioned seat behind a steering wheel.”

Alaska Heart
Christine DePetrillo

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Alaska is supposed to be cold, so why is Alanna Cormac on fire?

Sent on a dream assignment to Denali National Park, nature magazine writer Alanna Cormac has no intentions of falling in love with Dale Ramsden, sexy Iditarod winner. When Dale, his family, and even his eighteen sled dogs charm their way into her heart, however, Alanna's fast-track New York instincts crumble. The Alaskan landscape and the caress of a man too good to be true ignite feelings she never had time to explore before. Feelings that have her so blissfully busy she's unaware she's being watched. Judged. Targeted.

She's next.

Love will either save her or swallow her whole. Is there a difference?


"When you turn around, look first. You can grab your camera after. Okay?"

"Okay." Anticipation buzzed through me. Or was it being so close to Dale?

With a little nudge, Dale spun me around, and a gasp caught in my throat. His hands closed over my shoulders, anchoring me, keeping me earthbound amongst what had to be heaven.

Rising above all the other mountains in the distance, Mount McKinley reached into the cerulean Alaskan sky like a white giant. Its peaks were arrowheads of rock encrusted in snow that glistened magically in the pink of the late afternoon sunlight. How incredibly small I was, like a speck of dust in comparison to the majesty of McKinley.

"Oh, Dale..." My voice was nothing more than a rasp. I let my pack drop to my feet and leaned back against him. He folded his arms around me and squeezed. When I thought the moment couldn't get any closer to perfection, he loosened my scarf enough to nuzzle his cold nose against my neck. Though I initially shivered at the contact, he quickly warmed the spot with the heat of his lips.

Giving McKinley another look, I turned around to face Dale. He trailed his lips over my cheek and finally to my mouth where he did things that made my head spin. Our lips met as we tasted, savored each other. Great Goddess, I had shut myself off for too long. Or maybe I'd been waiting. Waiting for him.

Whatever the case, Dale unlocked emotions in me. Trust, wanting, love. I wasn't sure what to do with any of these, but my heart thudded wildly in my chest over the prospect. My skin longed to have Dale's fingers spread across every inch of it. My lips wanted him to never stop kissing me.

"Take your pictures." The words were a whisper. "And let's go."

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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

A Night with a Highlander - Book Spotlights

The Summons
Jo Barrett

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Was he real or had she lost her mind? Lindsay Sumner, an overworked nurse, isn't quite sure what to make of the handsome Highlander who is bound and determined to love her…all of her, body and soul.


The water felt so good. She needed this soak. Standing on her feet for twelve hours was too much.

"Wish I'd thought of grabbing a glass of wine before I climbed in," Lindsay muttered, easing deeper into the steaming water. She really needed to cut back her schedule at the hospital. Maybe she could get Beverly to swap her for Sunday. Then she'd have a long weekend.

She snorted softly at the thought. When had two days become a long weekend?

"It doesn't matter. A break is a break," she said, soaping her body with a lavender scented gel. Tomorrow she'd talk to Beverly and then see about getting her schedule changed. She didn't need to work extra hours, she didn't need the money.

"But you don't have anything else to do," she said with a sigh as she hung the washcloth over the spout. "No close friends, no male friends, nobody. But nursing is fulfilling. It's all I need," she lied, as she lay back and closed her eyes.

Although rewarding, the work was often grueling. She enjoyed helping people, but sometimes, times when she couldn't help people, it hurt. And lately there was an awful lot of hurt.

Her thoughts rambled from one case to another until the painful images began to fade and she dozed.

"The water has grown cold, lass."

With a small screech, Lindsay sat bolt upright in the tub and covered everything she could with her hands. She would've snagged her washcloth, although it wouldn't have helped her much, but it had disappeared, as had everything else. She was no longer in her bathroom, but in what looked like a castle bedchamber.

The Highlander's Fury
Maeve Greyson 

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Ciara, Immortal Fury, spends her days locating evil and administering justice. When her goddess mothers inform her they need a gifted child, Ciara agrees to their plan. She will swap places with Faolan MacKay's shy bride long enough to conceive, bear, and train a child in the old ways, before resuming her duties as avenger of wickedness.

Laird Faolan MacKay's advisers are pushing him to wed. Faolan has lost everyone he's ever loved and would rather travel to hell than down the aisle. To silence his advisers, Faolan chooses a woman rumored to be meek and easy to ignore. One problem: nobody ignores Ciara.
Against his will, he's enthralled with his new wife--to Ciara's surprise, the mortal affliction called love burns hotter than her hunger for vengeance. But when their time is up and Ciara must leave, can the bond of love overcome the edict of the ultimate powers?


Her smile was the first thing Faolan noticed, full lips with a sensuous pout, upturned with an air of generosity. She nodded and smiled her welcome to all in the room as she moved gracefully through the archway. Faolan followed the curve of her high cheekbones, his chest tightening at the intelligence sparkling in her gaze. Her eyes shimmered golden. They burnished warm as honey-flavored brandy swirling beneath the glow of torch light. Her sleek black curls piled high upon her head, held in place by a golden circlet. Her crimson gown fit her narrow waist and flattered the curve of her hips. Her neckline plunged low enough to quicken her intended’s heart but still modest enough to befit a maiden. She was taller then he’d thought she’d be. He could’ve sworn his informants had reported Dierdra Sinclair a wispy, elfin lass. The woman before him stood tall and willowy. The top of her head neared his shoulders and Faolan stood well over six and a half feet tall.

She moved with the fluid grace of one accustomed to being among crowds. She nodded and greeted each person she met with perfect ease. There was nothing simple-minded about this lass in anything she did. She carried herself with an air of surety. This woman knew her place in the world.

Faolan ground his teeth as the realization hit him: Dierdra Sinclair was not in need of saving. Faolan’s gut wrenched. He’d been played the fool, a duped pawn set into place for the taking.

Highland Arms
Cathie Dunn

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Betrayed by her brother’s lies, Catriona MacKenzie is banished from her Edinburgh home to her
godmother’s remote manor in the Highlands. While her father ponders her fate, Catriona’s insatiable curiosity leads her straight into trouble--and into the arms of a notorious Highlander.

Five years after an ill-fated Jacobite rebellion, Rory Cameron works as a smuggler to raise money for the cause--until Catriona uncovers a plot against him and exposes his activities. Now Rory is faced with a decision that could save their lives or destroy them both.


Intrigued, any thought of detection forgotten, Catriona let her gaze drift over him, taking in his worn kilt and plaid. The light-brown linen shirt gaped open at the neck, revealing a soft sprinkling of hair on bronzed skin; his sleeves rolled up over strong, muscled arms. His bearings put him above the other men in status but his body proved him to be a man of the out-of-doors. To her surprise, his chin was not covered with an unkempt beard—like his companions’ shaggy faces—but only bore a hint of stubble. Here was a man who shaved regularly.

Catriona’s mind whirled as she let her gaze wander further across his ruggedly handsome features. His open face with strong cheekbones and wide-set eyes spoke of power, a forceful character. Dark blond hair, glowing in the light of the tallow candles, was tied back at the nape of his neck. Most certainly he was not a drover. But why was he sharing their whisky? He piqued her curiosity and, in the absence of any other form of entertainment in this bare inn, she found herself fascinated.

When he glanced up from his cup, their eyes met. They held for a moment that stretched like eternity. His, a vibrant green that sparkled across the smoky room, mocked her apparent interest. Caught in the act, she blushed and quickly busied herself adjusting the folds of her dress before extending her hands to the fire, thereby turning her back to the room. How obvious her scrutiny had been! Her cheeks flamed, and not just from the heat of the fire.

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Monday, March 24, 2014

Medieval Romances to take your breath away - Book Spotlights

The Lily and the Falcon
Jannine Corti Petska

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Bianca degli Albizzi is outraged when sworn enemy Cristiano de'Medici asks for her hand in marriage. With her father's blessing, she weds the handsome warrior to end the war between Florence's two powerful families. But headstrong Bianca vows to teach her husband that loyalty cannot be bought...not even by seduction.

Cristiano, a well-known warrior with the wealth of a king, could have any woman he desires. But for the sake of peace he ends up with a defiant bride who awakens his deepest passion. Her vengeful scheming puts them both in peril, but is he prepared to sacrifice his life to safeguard the woman who has stolen his heart?


“May I see your hand?” When he hesitated, she took it anyway and turned it palm up.

“What fetish is this?” he demanded, uncertain of the puzzling grooves that suddenly invaded her features.

“I am reading your lines.” He tried to take his hand away, but she held fast. “You are mischievous by nature, a knave and a thief.”

“I am not a thief,” he objected.

She gave him a coy look. “Mayhap not of property or belongings, but of hearts, I propose.”

He scowled. “Are we back to my lovers again?”

“No, my sensitive lord.” She brushed the underside of his fingers, causing a shiver to race recklessly up and down his spine. “Your long fingers and broad palm reveal much of your character.”

“Explain this witchery,” he commanded, taking back his hand.

“Reading the palm is a science,” she told him with a slight frown. “Many Florentines seek the advice of seers and palm readers, though none would readily admit to it. Know this, my lord. Were I a witch, I would cast a spell on you.”

Then witch she was. What other explanation had he for his obsession with Bianca degli Albizzi?

Cherish the Knight
Diane O'Key

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 Ambushed as he approaches an English estate, Lord Cort Dornogard trusts no one...least of all spirited Gaelic healer Alexis Fallon, who fascinates even as she defies him.
The magnificent Norse warrior is a threat to both Alexis’ heart and her cherished autonomy, for she harbors a secret about the ambush she cannot reveal. Honesty will cost her her freedom. But silence may cost her far more.
Cort harbors a damning secret of his own—one guaranteed to foment rebellion among his new subjects. The escalating attacks and accidents confirm that fear. His foes, both English and Norman, will exploit what he hides to destroy him, his dreams, and the woman he’s grown to love.
Snared in a web of castle intrigue, passion, and betrayal, Cort and Lexi are each far more than either suspects. Will they discover too late that truth is a two-edged sword?


Lexi cast him a perplexed look. “Did you want something?”

My poor, provocative innocent, you have no idea.

“Come here,” Cort growled, forgetting for the moment all else but this woman.

She glided toward him, though her eyes reflected bewilderment at his tone. “Have I done someth—”

“No, but I hope you will.” Cort swept her close, uncaring that she could not help but be aware of his arousal.

Lexi gazed up at him, golden eyes startled. Then, a slow smile curved her full lower lip. “And what do you hope that I will do?”

“This.” He took her mouth in a blatantly sexual kiss. Hungry, hot, his lips flowed over Lexi’s, demanding a response. No need to demand. She yielded with exquisite sweetness, melding her generous mouth to his.

Her slender hands feathered up his neck, thrust into his hair, stripping away the leather thong that confined it. Loose strands drifted free and held at the edges of their heated mouths.

Did she sense, he wondered, all that he offered, all that he was? Power. Control. Tenderness. Danger.

A Knight's Kiss
Hanna Rhys-Barnes

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His mission could destroy his family...

In service to King Henry II, SIR JAMES DE BARNARD must discover if his mother's new husband is a traitor, but when Jamie rescues a beautiful woman en route, she holds secrets that will change his life forever and could circumvent his mission if he isn't careful. With that thought in mind, he must decide if loving Sela is worth losing his knighthood.

A dangerous plot...

SELA DE CRECY's loyalty belongs to Lady Amye, the woman who rescued her from a brothel. Yet, she finds herself falling in love with Jamie, the lady's son--a sensual and handsome knight who rescues her from danger. When she finds herself embroiled in intrigue and the stakes are life and death, she wonders if she and Jamie will find the traitor before he finds them.


The sound of the wind swirled around the merlon, but she could not feel it. His warm body pressed against her, shielding her from the cold. Though the touch of his lips was gentle, he kissed her like a man savoring a feast. Tasting first her lips, then the line along her jaw, and the skin at the curve of her neck. She shivered as his breath tickled the sensitive place behind her ear.

"You are cold, my sweet." He took her hand and started toward the stairs. "Come, let us--"

"No!" Sela yanked her hand from his and backed away. "I cannot, Jamie." She had not called him Jamie since that day on the rooftop. Since the day she had dammed away her love for him.

"Why, Sela? We used to share something special. Do you no longer like me?"

No. She did not like him--she loved him. Tears breached the rims of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. No longer able to stand the pain, she sobbed, pushed past him, and ran down the stairs.

Jamie looked down the dark staircase until he could no longer hear her footsteps.

She was crying. The tears on her cheeks sparkled in the moonlight, and her sobs still rang in his ears.

He cursed and pounded his fist against the stone wall. She must despise him now. Yet, he had felt the passion in their kiss.

What stood between them? His thoughts turned back to the past that no one would speak of. He had to find out what had happened to her. He would not need to worry about convincing his mother or the King if he could not break through her wall and claim her as his own.

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Sunday, March 23, 2014

Hot Shifter Paranormal Romances - Book spotlights

Hot Paranormal Romance in the Garden

Curse of the Marhime [Roma Wolf Tales 1]
Dayana Knight

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A routine visit to the grocery store and a chance encounter with a psychic plunges Pita Sedgwick into a dark world of shape-shifting, magic, and Gypsy lore. Pita finds herself on a plane to Romania, seeking the answers to her mysterious birth and in search of her biological family. Fate intervenes in the form of handsome seatmate, Niko Ionesciu. Pita is sure she’s found love and her history. But as her innocent fact-finding mission spirals into a dangerous game of revenge and deceit with the Gypsy Matriarch, the psychic’s words come back to haunt her. Can she trust the people around her with her terrifying secret or will the search for her family end in the ultimate betrayal?


They came to a clearing. The gray and Pita kept to the heavy undergrowth. Pita got down on all fours and followed the wolf, keeping her head down to shield her face from the backlash of the dense foliage. Branches pulled at her hair and scraped her arms as they neared the edge of a wide clearing. The scent of wet leaves and moss wafted up and dampness seeped into her clothing. She sat back on her legs as quietly as possible and peered through the bushes into the clearing. She gasped but covered her mouth before any sound escaped.

Before her was a caravan of Gypsies. A circle of vehicles surrounded them: old pickup trucks with homemade camper-like additions built into the back beds, station wagons, and even old horse-drawn carts right out of an old Gypsy movie. About thirty people milled about. Some sat by a large fire talking loudly and laughing, while others worked at some project or other and children ran about playing amongst themselves and a couple of mangy dogs.

“The dogs...” Pita didn't finish her thought. She couldn't speak. At that moment time stopped. Her eyes locked with those frightening dark ones of the Matriarch, the woman from the plane. The cold black orbs seemed to focus on her.

“She knows we're here.” Pita whispered.

“Yes...” That single word burned in her head like a hot branding iron. The wolf leaned against Pita as if to comfort her, to let her know it was there beside her. But she felt no comfort just cold fear like icy water running through her veins.

Malevolent eyes bore into hers, dark fathomless hatred reflected within. Then the woman's voice sliced into Pita's head.

“Go back from whence you came. You will not win, Pita Sedgwick…”

Moon Shifter
Karen Michelle Nutt

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The Mac Tíre forbade all moon shifters from changing a human in order to save them from death. Grayson Quinn, the alpha of the pack ignores the ancient rule when Sydney Carlisle, his fiancée is ravaged by one of his own kind.

Sydney believes she is a monster, a werewolf. She flees before Grayson can help her adjust, but Grayson must find her. Sydney’s body is still changing and the were lust will drive her crazy if not sated. He has until the full moon to help her tame the wolf inside and convince her she’s his soul mate. If he fails, he loses her forever.

Sydney still craves Grayson's touch, but can her heart forgive him for making her one of the Mac Tíre?

76 Pages, Spicy


Grayson was near. Intuition told her to run, hide, but she stood paralyzed by a new sensation furrowing down her spine—the beat of desire, strong and unrelenting as she allowed herself to remember when she was human and how Grayson’s strong competent hands caressed her body. How could she hate him and desire him, all in one beat of her heart?

Like a vision, he strode into view, tall, lean and sexy with a bit of male animal lurking beneath the surface. She could sense the wolf in him now. So obvious. How had she ever missed it?

His thick-lashed, silver eyes had not seen her yet, but he must know she was near since he moved with caution. His black hair, overly long and sinfully thick framed his handsome-as-the-devil face. He aroused her like no other man had, but now she knew why. He wasn’t a man, but a werewolf.

Sinking to a crouched position, she hoped to make herself invisible, but her movement pricked his ears and his gaze riveted to hers. God, he looked good in his black slacks and jacket. She remembered what lay beneath—muscles, firm thighs, tight buttocks, all so male. He was what every woman dreamed of touching…and she had. It didn’t matter she was in wolf form. Fire licked through her body as every hormone inside of her came alive. She didn’t know if she wanted to tear him from limb to limb or force him to make love to her in whatever form he chose. Maybe she’d do both. She now stood stiff-legged and tall with her ears erect. Her hackles bristled, warning him.

Grayson’s eyebrows rose and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

He wouldn’t be amused if she tore his heart out. She bared her teeth and growled letting the fury roll over her.

The Witch and the Wolf
Tricia Schneider

To Purchase

Lord Jeremy North's curse is to become a werewolf during every full moon, turning into a bloodthirsty monster that kills with no remorse. When he finds a woman nearly frozen upon his doorstep, his sense of honor compels him to help her, even at the risk he might kill her himself.

Lillian Merriweather hadn't planned to get caught in a blizzard while traveling the English countryside. Nor had she planned on finding refuge in a house full of secrets. But Lillian has secrets of her own. And what she's running from is not far behind...


There were several moments Jeremy North suspected he suffered hallucinations. Most of those times had been when he had first begun to change into the beast during the full moon. And now, as he answered the knocking he had at first imagined to be the pounding in his skull, he wondered if the brandy he had been drinking this evening was perhaps tainted. He could not quite believe his eyes.

A woman stood on his doorstep, covered in a layer of snow, her bright blue eyes silently pleading to him just before her eyelids fluttered closed, and she crumpled at his feet. He managed to set the candle down safely on a table in time to catch her before she cracked her head on the stone beneath her. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, brought her into the house, slamming the door closed with his foot. He hurried into the library with his unexpected guest. North had returned earlier seeking the warm oblivion of yet another glass of brandy. He grimaced at the memory of countless other sleep-deprived nights spent in much the same way. Sans an unconscious woman, however.

He placed the bundled woman onto the sofa, ignoring the fact that the snow was bound to create a water stain on the fabric once it melted. He leaned over her, pushing the curly brown strands of wet hair off her face and checked to see if she still breathed. Satisfied when he felt her breath on his hand, he went back to the corridor.

“Amery!” He roared.

Turning back to the woman on his sofa, he again felt the necessity to blink his eyes, wondering if they played a trick with his senses. He lit more candles to brighten the room and added more wood to the fire. Then he walked back to the woman and knelt at her side. He found her hand dangling over the edge of the sofa and took it gently in his, the digits frozen stiff. He inhaled a gasp. He cupped both of his hands instinctively around hers, hoping to lend her his warmth.

He heard the shuffle from the hallway and Amery’s muttering, then a noisy yawn.

“Bloody hell! What is this?” Amery bellowed from the doorway.

North ignored the query. “We need blankets,” he said, instead. “She’s frozen through.”

Amery nodded and left.

A muffled groan from behind drew his attention, and he turned to see the woman’s eyelids flutter open. He inhaled sharply as her bright blue gaze fell upon him.

She studied him for a moment.

And then, she smiled.

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Thursday, March 20, 2014

Heaven On Earth Book Spotlight

Clean Romance from The Wild Rose Press

Heaven On Earth
by Lori Avocato

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She needed the solitude of the ocean to think, the warmth of the sun to soothe her confusion, and the speed of pushing a motorboat to its limit to face the toughest decision of her life. Captain Maddy Harrington needed peace of mind to decide if she should continue her lifelong dream of being an Air Force officer. But what she got was a man washed up on shore. A man — a gorgeous man — who didn’t even know his name but thought he’d found HEAVEN ON EARTH. Will Maddy ever find that solitude, or will it even matter once her heart, her feelings for him, get involved?


He felt lips on his--soft, warm lips--and tasted something. Chocolate? Yeah, and mint. He needed to see where he was, so he blinked. But his eyelids--too tired to open--fought him. A forced sigh filled his lungs and, determined, he blinked again. After several tries, the blurring cleared to reveal dark violet irises a few inches from his face, looking toward him. His eyelids cooperated and opened. He'd never seen anyone with violet eyes before, except in the movie Cleopatra. Blond hair with golden streaks, darkened as if wet, fell over one eye as a woman hovered over him.

"Damn," he mumbled.

He blinked a few more times to see her staring at him, her face like an angel's--a beautiful angel--only a few inches away. So this must be Heaven, he thought. A peaceful feeling swept throughout him, but he didn't remember seeing any ray of bright light like people who were supposedly brought back from the dead talked about. But yellow beams of sunlight glared into his eyes, causing the angel to silhouette against the azure sky. He smiled to himself, enjoying the serene moment. Nothing to fear about dying; no, it was painless and tranquil. Dying was peaceful--but tiring. Hell, with angels like her, this was going to be a great place. When his eyes opened fully, he saw her clearly. "Is this Heaven?" he asked.

"Thank God you're alive." The angel glared for a second to be sure. ", this isn't Heaven..."

"Damn, I thought I led a pretty good life. You mean--I'm in...Hell?" A pain shot through his temple as he tried to smile.

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Tortured Soul - Book spotlight

Paranormal Romance from the Black Rose line.

Tortured Soul
by: Julia Laque

To Purchase

Tortured Series

After Evangeline Wolcott learns her family is in trouble with the Vampire King of North America, she reluctantly agrees to marry the blackmailing vampire in an attempt to save them from financial ruin. This act spurs Adam Perez, the King's avowed enemy, into action.
Adam, leader of the Blacktail werewolf pack, believes Cyrus kidnapped his sister in retaliation over attacks against his coven. Fueled by hatred, Adam takes something of his, a spirited beauty who sets his soul on fire.

Wrought with grief over her predicament, Evangeline soon finds herself falling for her enigmatic captor. Will Adam and Evangeline's love prevail when she is destined to belong to his enemy?


Adam walked into the bathroom and shut the door to keep the warm air in. “I told you to call me if you needed anything,” he said roughly as he grabbed the towel from the hook and threw it over his shoulder. He stepped to the tub, keeping his eyes leveled on her face and reached out to help her up.

She jerked away from him. “Wait.” Her wide eyes met his. A flush filled her high cheekbones as she licked her succulent, wet lips. She had no idea how damn provocative her simple action was and he went hard instantly. Thank God he was hunched over. “Aren’t you going to close your eyes?”

He snorted. “Then I won’t see what I’m grabbing. Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You haven’t seen me!” she said angrily, her eyes blazing.

Yet, he thought. He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? “Fine. I’ll close my eyes and you lead my hands, but if I knock you into the sink, it’s your own fault.”

“Okay,” she uttered meekly.

He closed his eyes and felt her pull his hands into the water and place them on her rib cage. She fit perfectly in his hands and he took his time lifting her out of the water, reluctant to let go of her sleek, soft skin. When he set her down, he let go unwillingly and grabbed the towel from his shoulder, holding it out to her with his eyes still shut.

She took it from him. “Thank you. You can open your eyes now.” Evangeline stood before him with the beige towel wrapped around her torso, her hair dripping wet, sending droplets down her shoulders.

This woman would be the death of him.

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Wednesday, March 19, 2014

My Workplace – Mobile Musings

My Workplace – Mobile Musings
By: Gail MacMillan

I’ve always written from the time I could first form letters into words so I’d have to say my first workspace was my bed where I sat huddled against my pillows in the glow of a small lamp scribbling in secret long after lights out. These tales I hid under my bed, afraid to admit to anyone that I dared to attempt to emulate actual authors. Authors, I believed, were next to the gods on Mount Olympus with their gifts of conjuring stories out of thin air in an absolutely enthralling fashion. I had no right to try to attempt to enter their exalted realm.

But I continued to be a closet (or under the bed one) writer for years. When I married my husband Ron he discovered my secret addiction and insisted I join a writer’s group. That did it. Spurred on by that enthusiastic gathering, I wrote at every possible moment, my favorite spot being the front steps of the two room shack we called our camp in Tabusintac. I filled notebooks and every scrap of available paper with stories and even short novels. I bought a second hand manual typewriter and began to write boldly, openly at the kitchen table where any passing neighbor might come upon me. Third page headlines in the Moncton Times after my first book was published dubbed me the kitchen table novelist.

Later, in attempt to find a quiet place to write, I set up shop on a wobbly-legged card table in a corner of our unfinished basement. When the kids were finally all in school, I moved my shakey writing centre upstairs to our bedroom. There I wrote two more books and a bunch of short stories for religious (now called Christian, I believe) magazines. And just before I moved again, I began to write the dog stories that would take me in a whole new direction.

Two years later we finished our basement. This remodeling included a small office for me behind the furnace and the room where we were to store our winter’s supply of fire wood. Thus isolated, I felt I’d be undisturbed to write and write and write. My husband, bless him, in support of my elusive dream, even built me a beautiful roll top desk that took him an entire winter to complete.

It didn’t work out. I soon discovered my imagination couldn’t flare locked away below ground level behind several cords of hardwood with only one small window. I found myself holding a tablet or notebook on my knee in various brighter, more convivial locations. Later I’d force myself into that cube in the basement where, thanks to a modest inheritance, I now had a miracle machine…a self correcting typewriter…to transcribe my stories.

These days, a laptop accommodates my moods and fancies. Summers at our cottage in Tabusintac, I set up in the gazebo out back where I have a lovely view of fields and trees, birds and squirrels, and the occasional fox. When the chill of late October drives me indoors, I once again become a kitchen table novelist.

Winters in Bathurst I mostly write at the dining room table (apparently you can take the table away from the girl but you can’t get the girl away from the table). From my vantage point I have a lovely view of both my backyard and the street in front of the house. My dogs are my associate editors, always ready to tell me when it’s break time, waiting patiently when it isn’t.

My office sits alone and uninhabited except for floor-to-ceiling, well-filled book shelves, filing cabinets, and bulletin boards. We’ve moved the beautiful roll top desk upstairs to Ron’s office. The expensive typing chair my doctor insisted I needed to keep arms and shoulders pain-free sits gathering dust in front of my old desk top (which still comes into play whenever the laptop is ailing). I really should be sitting in that chair, in the book-lined office, isolated from the rest of the house and neighborhood, working like a rented mule, but I just can’t seem to get the hang of it. Instead, I sit at the dining room table, then sometimes in my grandmother’s rocking chair in the living room and dream up handsome heroes and unstoppable heroines, often in pj’s and slippers.

I admire the other authors who have been Norah’s guests. How organized, how professional, how in control they all are. Maybe someday when we finally build that sunroom we’ve been talking about for years, I, too, will settle down in a single location. But until then, like the Littiest Hobo, I’ll just keep movin’ on.

Gail MacMillan
Three Time Maxwell Medal Winner
From The Wild Rose Press:
Lady & the Beast, Caledonian Privateer
Ghost of Winters Past, Holding Off for a Hero
Rogue's Revenge, Counterfeit Cowboy,
and Shadows of Love
Coming soon:
Heather for a Highlander and
How My Heart Finds Christmas

Find Gail's Books Here

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

My Heart Will Find Yours - Book Spotlight

My Heart Will Find Yours
By Linda LaRogue

To Purchase

Fated lovers suffer the agony of loss only to be reunited to fulfill a greater plan.
TEXANNA KEITH doesn’t believe an antique locket is the key to time travel, but plays along, and to her horror, is zapped back to 1880 Waco, Texas. Her mission is to prevent Royce Dyson’s death in a shootout. Wounded, she loses what she longs for most — a life with Royce.
Marshall ROYCE DYSON’S wife disappeared in 1876. Now she’s reappeared, claiming she’s a time traveler. As he seeks the truth, he’s determined to keep Texanna with him, but it’s not destined to be.


 "Hurry up, Marshal, get some cuffs on her. How else you gonna get her home?"

A quick scan of the woman indicated she didn't have a weapon strapped to her side or in her hands. His gaze moved from the unusual shoes she wore, up indecently clad legs encased in denim pants. How else could he describe it? When his eyes reached her torso, his body jerked in response. Beautiful breasts were fully outlined by a skintight blouse. Her pebbled nipples showed through the thin, pink fabric. His face burned with anger. It was downright scandalous. No decent woman would dress so provocatively. Then he noticed the flame-colored curls. Hans eased his hold, and her head jerked up toward him. His eyes met hers, and his heart stopped. God, she's beautiful. He looked at her face again and thought he'd faint from sheer joy. His bliss quickly turned to rage.

With a growl, he bit out, "Get your hands off my wife." At least, he thought it was his wife. The hair was the same, but her eyes were bluer, her nose thinner, and damned if she didn't have kohl on her eyebrows and lashes.

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Monday, March 17, 2014

Calling In Old Debts by Kacey Mark

Calling In Old Debts
Kacey Mark

I guess I could consider myself a luck junkie.
I still remember when I was about ten, calling my mother in the middle of her work day and insisting that I speak with her.

I was jumping out of my skin with excitement and scarcely able to speak because we had just gotten an OFFICIAL letter from Publisher's Clearing House that said we may have just won a MILLION dollars!

I don't think I ever lost that enthusiasm. Even though the grand prize has yet to fall into my waiting hands.

My bestest boy and I have a standing tradition, where we make a trip, once a month, to buy a lottery ticket.

Just one. Because we only need one. The WINNING one. We spend the entire drive, down and back, planning out how we are going to spend our winnings.

I felt the same way when I published my first novel. I didn't need more than one. I only needed the award-winning, best-selling one.

Please understand, I don't mean to be naive or boastful.
Just hopeful. For me, it's fun to chase good luck.

This past weekend, my bestest boy and I made several trips to the basement to put away last season's decorations, and to bring out what little St. Patrick's day stuff we had.

With a sagging, half-filled plastic bag in hand, my gaze wandered. I searched for something, anything, I could add to the cheery, Irish tradition of luck, love, and kisses. Something that would help my family look forward to another magical holiday.

And there it sat.

Our enormous Halloween cauldron.
"That would make a great pot of gold!" I exclaimed.
Then faltered, "But...we don't have any gold."

We brainstormed most of the morning away, about what we could fill it with. What could we put in there to assume the look of gold.
Ultimately we found a better idea.
A sign.An I O U.

My best boy and I set to work. We're great at chasing luck, but we're also becoming master do-it-yourself-ers when it comes to the smaller dreams. We spent the entire day fabricating our sign from scratch.
Cutting, sanding, painting, stenciling!

In the end, the sign turned out a bit vague. "Would people understand it?" we asked each other.
Who holds the gold? The leprechaun or us?
Who owes who here?!

The Leprechaun still holds the gold, but we've got the pot. I guess if he decides to fill it, I won't complain. We are overdue for a little good fortune after all that hopefulness. And after chasing good luck for this many years, surly that ole' leprechaun's itty bitty legs must be getting tired.

But when my boy tenderly added the finishing touch, a fine dusting of gold glitter, I realized...
The chase is worth more than the gold could buy.

I haven't won the lottery, but all those precious miles back and forth are worth more than a private jet that would fly in a fraction of the time.

I don't have an award winning book, but I do have a published novel that I dedicated more than a year of my life to. It's something to be proud of. I wouldn't have changed that journey for a million gold pieces.

Nor would I change my family, or my amazing, creative, bestest boy!--who is laying out itty bitty trip wires, as we speak.

Kacey Mark

Friday, March 14, 2014

Hickin’ it for St. Patrick’s Day by Kacey Mark

Hickin’ it for St. Patrick’s Day
Kacey Mark

I’m continuing my Hickin’ it theme with another great tradition.
For those of you who aren't familiar, I'm authoring a new book titled HICKIN' IT.
It's a paranormal romance, of course, but it has many accents that are tailored from my own experiences and amazing friends.
It's a laugh in the face to the snooty adversaries in my life who've said, "She's such a hick..." and "What a redneck..."
To which I bow and say, "With pride!"
Because the American redneck has an amazing history filled with friends, fun, and ingenuity. Not to mention we fall into situations that are hilariously entertaining, and we're not afraid to laugh at ourselves.
Take Matt for instance, I'm not sure if he claims himself as a hick, but he IS amazing!
He’s one of the many in my family with an extra comedic chromosome hiding in there somewhere.
He’s completely normal to the unsuspecting stranger, but once you get to know him, he’s a total riot!

Howdy, Matt! Tell me a little bit about your tradition.
Mine is a St. Patrick's Day tradition I made up (10 years ago). Still going strong!
Need: Swing set, IBC cream soda, 1-3 best buddies
This tradition is about naming the things you are thankful for, celebrating friendship, laughing, and remembering to breathe correctly.
First step) Everyone start swinging with an open cream soda in hand.
1) Person A screams, "I'M THANKFUL FOR _________!"
2) Everyone IMMEDIATELY shouts in unison, "HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAAAAAY!!!" In the worst Irish accent you can muster.
3) Everyone IMMEDIATELY throws back a drink.
4) Person B shouts, "I'M THANKFUL FOR _________!" ...and you repeat, until everyone's bottle is empty. Last step) All raise their empty bottles, shout very loud and long, "Happpppy ST. PATRICK'S DAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and throw your bottles.
The key is to continuously shout and drink without stopping. Don't let people stop to think of what they're thankful for. Keep up the pace as fast as you can.
No pausing.
Finding time to breathe is difficult, haha!!
I love this tradition. Made it up myself. You get to choose who were your favorite people from the past year and invite them.
How many recruits long for that soda-up-the-nose sensation the next year-round?
If I didn't keep it going myself, it would get lost to the wind. The flame to keep it going exists solely in my head, but the people involved speak fondly of it. It's a good time for everyone. It remains mine though. My own special thing I've stuck with.
Do you anticipate that this tradition is going to span generations?
It may die with me. Though, that might change. I'm starting to see various people asking about it as March rolls around. If I keep it up, and touch as many lives as I can with it... we may see a brighter future.
What kind of reactions do you get when you tell people about your tradition?
I have to break the ice tenderly. "Would you do me a favor? or I need help with something. I need your help celebrating happiness." I take it gingerly because in 20 minutes I'll have them shouting and choking.
Any funny stories that go along with your implementation from year-to-year?

Last year, I had three people come with me. Two stayed enthusiastic. The third person was having issues. His swings got slower and slower. Half the time he forgot to take a drink. His "turn" would come up with ticklish-anticipation. We all knew he was doing it wrong, but we unanimously acted as if he was one of us. The more times we cycled to him, the funnier it got. The anticipation of his inability to follow simple instruction mixed with tiny variations in how he did it wrong sent us over the edge. We fell off the swings laughing/coughing/and foaming out sweet carbonation.
The first time I created this tradition, we had an audience. Kids on the playground behind us. Baseball practice going strong in a field. Parent's littered about. While our antics could have put people on edge, hearing what we were shouting I think brought the park together in mutual understanding. We all knew what it was like to like. And sometimes seeing a small group of people break the chains of what's socially acceptable gives us all a breath of fresh air.
Vicariously induced kinship.
Kacey Mark

Thursday, March 13, 2014

The Temptation of Mrs. Emily Templeton by Naomi Dathan - Book Spotlight

The Temptation of Mrs. Emily Templeton
by Naomi Dathan

Romantic Suspense

To Purchase

Emily Wilder needs a miracle. Her abusive brother, taking his religious fundamentalism to an extreme, dictates each moment of her day. Horrified to learn he has selected a husband for her, she flees with a
stranger who steps in between her and her brother's rage.

To win custody of his three young sons, Luke Templeton needs a wife. On impulse, he proposes a marriage of convenience. His steamy wedding night with Emily takes him by surprise, but physical attraction isn't enough to build a real marriage. Their worlds are too different. Luke vows to return to their business arrangement.

However, Emily sees a chance for the home and family she's always dreamed of. Determined to be Luke's wife in all ways, she sets out to seduce her new husband into making their marriage vows permanent. But leaving a controlling zealot isn't simple.

Can Emily's love for Luke and her new family protect them, or will vengeance kill them all?


“I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing here.”

“I don’t know,” Luke said. “This is all kind of unexpected. But you can’t stay here, that’s for sure.”

“No, I—I know I need to leave. I’ve known for a while. I just...I’m afraid, I think.” Her hand rose nervously to check her hair. It was still pulled into a smooth knot.

He sighed. “I’d say, come and stay with me. Babysit my boys, and finish school in the evenings. But my ex-wife is trying to get custody of my kids, and that could really mess me up.”

“It’s okay,” she told him. “You can go. I’ll figure something out.”

“Oh, I can go? Really?” He stood and paced, combing his fingers through his dark hair. “That’s great! Well, all right then. I’ll just, you know, get out of the way so your brother can come in here and kill you.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s not always like that.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said. He knelt in front of her and took her hand in his. “Look, we’ve got to deal with reality. If your brother gets a chance, he’s going to make you pay for what happened today.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I don’t know what to do.”

He hesitated. “I want to help you. I want to take you back to Ohio with me.”

She shook her head. “What about your custody thing? Anyway, you aren’t responsible for me.”

“Yes, I am.”


“I don’t know. But I am.” He rose, grabbed her psychology text and dropped it into her bag. “What else do we need to pack?”

“I don’t even know where I’m going. What I’m going to do.”

Luke kept his back to her. “We’ll get married.”

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Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Immorati by: MK Mancos - Book Spotlight

by: MK Mancos

Paranormal Romance

To Purchase

When the corpse of an unidentified species is found in the woods near Pine Haven, New Jersey along with a
human female, anthropologist Edie Campbell is called in by local law enforcement and the medical examiner to help identify the strange humanoid male. The discovery of a heretofore unknown species is thrilling for Edie, up until she realizes the creature has recently mated with the human female.

Questions form with no apparent answers until Aidan LaMont arrives in Pine Haven to identify his cousin’s body. But the secretive Aidan hides as much of the mystery surrounding the strange creature as he explains. And Edie has no doubt that behind his simmering sexuality and amber eyes, he knows much more than he’s willing to tell.


Aidan inhaled; she smelled vaguely of coffee with a hint of mint.
“I’m looking for what killed my cousin.”

Long mink-colored lashes slid shut, hiding her gorgeous eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” A gentle touch on his arm made him stiffen in reaction. Her eyes opened again. “I’m even sorrier for the media intrusion into your family’s sorrow. Chief Urich tried to keep it quiet.”

Aidan wanted to shrug and show it didn’t matter to the Immorati, no one would be able to get close enough to the compound to intrude on their mourning, but he remained silent. “And what is your part in all of this?”

“Expert opinion.”

He raised a brow in query. Silence descended on them right before Cletus stepped into their space, cutting off the question even as it formed in Aidan’s mind.

“You need to remove her from this place.”

Aidan understood and took her hand in his and walked to the road. The last thing he wanted was for her to see a Corpesetti in full hunt. He and Cletus might be able to bring him down, but the woman would be a liability.

A crash through the brush was followed by an unmistakable stench. Aidan pushed the girl to the ground, throwing his body on top of her in protection. He felt the air whoosh from her lungs and her breathing stop. Damn, he might have hurt her.

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Tuesday, March 11, 2014

A Little Slice Of Heaven by Gina Ardito - Book Spotlight

A Little Slice Of Heaven    
by: Gina Ardito

A Sweet Romance

To Purchase

An Angel With a Bruised Spirit...

After a humiliating breakup, Gianna Randazzo temporarily works at her family's pizzeria and rescues the
stray cats that appear on her doorstep. Until the night the stray on her doorstep turns out to be a man!

A Devil's Bargain...

With educated speech and sterling manners, Kyle Hayden isn't the average homeless man. Touched by his situation, Gianna offers him a place to stay and a job. And when he cleans up to reveal a super-hunk, he's the perfect phony, doting boyfriend to escort Gianna to her ex's upcoming wedding. Or maybe this time, love could be for real.

Hell Breaks Loose...

Until the truth comes out. For while Gianna dreams of happily ever after, Kyle will soon return to the life he left behind--a life that won't include Gianna. Unless he can regain her trust and show her...

A Little Slice of Heaven

"Give me a day or two," Joey said. "I'll make a few phone calls."

"Forget it." She waved a hand as if brushing away a gnat. "Frank would recognize anyone you set me up with."

"Well, then, who do you know Frank won't see through?"

Scanning her bureau, she glanced over framed photographs of close friends. No one suitable smiled back. She didn't exactly have a stable of men waiting. Except, of course, the ROMEOs.

And then her mind clicked on the image of a man with wide-set hazel eyes and a clipped New England accent. No. Ridiculous. She barely knew him, for God's sake.

"Come on, Gi," Joey prompted. "Think. There's gotta be someone."

"Maybe." She bit a ragged cuticle on her thumb.


"Our newest employee at Villa Mare."

"You hired somebody?"

Ow! She bit too close to the nail and winced, but not at the pain. Joey would want details about Kyle now. And she didn't dare lie because Claudio would give her up faster than a parade of dancing teddy bears.

"I'll have to make sure he's available first," she said.

"Who is he?"

Stick to the basics. Maybe he won't ask the million dollar questions. "His name's Kyle. Kyle Hayden."

"Where'd you find him?"

Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! "Umm..." Squeezing one of the throw pillows, she mumbled, "I found him in the parking lot."

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Monday, March 10, 2014

March Misfit by Barbara Stremikis - Book Spotlight

March Misfit
by Barbara Stremikis

Y/A Romance

To Purchase

When a mudslide destroys her home and kills her parents, fifteen-year-old Cara Talbot is sent to live with a distant cousin, his wife, and five sons on a dairy farm in Indiana. The stink of cattle, a tiny bedroom loft, and two brothers who resent her intrusion make life a bitter struggle. As she copes with her grief, she finds solace caring for an autistic child, who helps her see the softer side of Nicolas March, another family misfit.

“Why do I see you everywhere I go?” Nicolas bellowed.

Cara scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off. “Why do I see you?” He obviously considered her a pest. “I’m not following you around, if that’s what you think.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, coming down the stairs at a clip that told her he was accustomed to them.

“What do you care? You’d be glad if I hurt myself. Then I’d stay out of your way.”

He moved toward her, warmth radiating from his body. She shrank and sucked in a breath as his fingers encircled her upper arms and he lifted her off her feet. Unable to read the gleam in his black eyes, her stomach quivered and an alarm went off in her head.

“Put me down!” she demanded, frightened of him.

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Sunday, March 09, 2014

A Little Legal Luck by Georgie Lee - Bookspotlight

Wild Rose Press Book Spotlight.

A Little Legal Luck
by: Georgie Lee


On St. Patrick’s Day, the last thing paralegal Lisa Brennan needs is another lawyer in her life, but when handsome attorney Daniel Wilson shows he’s a sweetheart in an industry of sharks, she’s intrigued. Daniel is impressed by the pretty paralegal and her desire to succeed despite a bad job, but with the pressure of running his own firm, does he have time for a relationship? Thrown together in the jury pool, Lisa must overcome her prejudices about attorneys to trust Daniel and get lucky in love.


“I’m hoping St. Patrick smiles on me today and I get picked for a trial.” Lisa laughed, finding the stranger’s upbeat mood infectious. “I’d kiss a lot of blarney stone to get out of work for a few days.”

He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Then we must be the only two people here eager to do our patriotic duty.”

Glancing around the room at the bored women watching the morning show on the large overhead TVs and the college students absorbed in their i‑whatevers, she had the distinct feeling they were in the minority. “You want to serve?”

“I’m a lawyer, I know how important jurors are to the system.”

Her body tensed and the muscles in the back of her neck tightened.

Not all lawyers are like Lou, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice her unconscious reaction as he held out his hand, and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “Daniel Wilson.” She grasped his hand, her skin tingling as his long fingers curled around hers.

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Saturday, March 08, 2014

A Sterling Affair by Susan Palmquist - Book Spotlight

Wild Rose Press Book Spotlight.

A Sterling Affair
by: Susan Palmquist


Widow Deana Adams gets the shock of her life when she discovers a naked man in her living room. It's an
even bigger shock when she learns Sir Ian Ashby is over 200 years old. Wanting nothing more than to return him to his grave, Deana soon realizes that Sir Ian offers her a second chance at love.


Deana gingerly walked over to Sir Ian. What kind of phenomenon was he, a phantom, a ghost? She studied him more carefully as she got closer to him. He looked like the average man; no, not average. He was above average. "I'm sorry for this, but maybe you should get dressed while we sort this mess out. I just don't know what to think of the whole thing." She didn't want to step too close to him. She stretched her arms out, hoping he would reach for the clothing. He didn't take the clothes. Instead, she felt him grab her wrist and pull her toward him. She felt foolish, but she screamed out, wondering what he was going to do to her. He pulled her in closer and peered down at her. She looked up at him and noticed he had big brown eyes. She expected him to feel like ice, but his hand was warm. And he was alive, so alive that she could feel his breath on her cheek. Todd and Amy, and this gentleman, must be playing some kind of joke on her. They couldn't have possibly have brought him back from the dead. He was warm, he was breathing. He just didn't look like a dead man. This man was near perfect.

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Friday, March 07, 2014

Time to Bury the Past by Anne Ashby - Book Spotlight

Wild Rose Press Book Spotlight.

Time to Bury the Past
Anne Ashby


Post Traumatic Stress Disorder forces American Naval Officer Zane Erickson to re-evaluate his life. A posting to untroubled New Zealand, after years in Afghanistan, should allow him to bond with his motherless teenage son. Unfortunately Cody doesn’t share his father's enthusiasm for this new living arrangement.

Kelsey Hewitt is a single mother wrestling with her son’s drinking problem. She struggles to keep the truth about his abusive father from him and is determined to exclude men from her life.

As Kelsey and Zane are drawn together by the boys’ friendship, they each have compelling reasons to avoid any possible intimacy. Through dealing with their sons’ dilemmas, their attraction for each other deepens.

Can Kelsey risk allowing another control freak into her life?


“Please ask your father if he can spare us a few minutes.”

Cody shrank as footsteps brought his father into sight.

Kelsey’s eyes slid from son to father, and her breath caught in her throat.

She remembered his features vaguely. But she hadn’t looked into his startling blue eyes that now held her captive, not allowing her to breath. Daniel’s shuffling feet broke the spell, making her wonder just how long she’d stared.

The depth of those eyes was so striking it took a moment to focus on his other features. Her lips twitched despite the seriousness of the situation. His haircut separated him from the men she was used to seeing. He’d never be mistaken for a Kiwi, even a military Kiwi.

He’s very well put together. Shocked that such a thought popped into her mind at a time like this, she allowed her eyes to continue surveying him. If he allowed that hair to grow a bit he could look pretty hot...if you like that sort. Of course I definitely don’t.

A glance at his body showed her what she’d expect from a military person, fit, trim, with defined muscles obvious under his tight T-shirt.

Right now, even in the blue jeans and very snug black T-shirt he wore, he still had a sense of authority.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Erickson. I’m Kelsey Hewitt.” She didn’t hold out her hand, afraid he might see it shaking. Instead, she kept her hands at her sides. “I wonder if we could have a moment of your time.”

“I don’t see the point. I doubt I’d be

interested in anything you have to say.” “Nevertheless,” Kelsey continued firmly, “may we come in?”

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Wednesday, March 05, 2014


**Reprinted with permission from, originally posted 3/2/14**


Yesterday was a terrific day for me, as a writer. I knew it was going to be terrific because the fabulous Rhonda Penders, Editor-in-Chief of my publisher, The Wild Rose Press, was presenting at the March meeting of the CNY Romance Writers.


The Wild Rose Press opened for business in 2006 as a for-authors, by-authors house, and to this day, they honor that association. They are known throughout the publishing industry as a "kinder, gentler publishing house." They are honest but kind about their editorial reviews, and you will never, never get a form letter from them. Even if your manuscript is rejected, you will receive a detailed letter explaining your work's sticking points - and often, the things the editor liked. Having been an editor for two amazing years for this house before going freelance, I can say that with confidence ... because I am a very, very wordy editor who likes to tell authors why something worked, or it didn't. In detail. They still do that.

To date, TWRP has 1600 stories available, from authors all over the globe. While primarily a publisher of romance fiction, TWRP has recently opened its doors to works in other genres, including women's fiction, mystery or thriller, historical fiction, and erotica. If you write in one of these genres, I highly recommend submitting to TWRP ... and not just because I currently write for them. They have been voted for the fifth straight year as "Best Publisher" in the Preditors & Editors Poll, because their authors believe in them so strongly.


Rhonda recommends having a second set of eyes take a look through your manuscript to get it in its best shape before submitting it to anyone. Too many manuscripts cross an editor's desk as "good," but not great, because they haven't been polished enough before submission.

She also advises that the most successful authors are the ones who are active self-promoters - visible online, at conferences, at book signings, and at workshops. Never pass up an opportunity to promote your work. Blog tours and group promotions like signings with fellow authors can be cost-effective marketing tools.

Also key in an author's success is her broad base of inventory. That means you have a lot of works out there, in several genres or subgenres, in varying lengths and at various houses (Yes, she did say "Go write for other houses." Rhonda is very honest, even when it may not benefit her own house.).


Rhonda is very vocal about TWRP's "open door" policy. When you are signed with The Wild Rose Press, you are free to bring your concerns right to the top of the food chain if you feel you're not getting the information or answers you need. Rhonda will either respond herself to your concern, or get you to the person who can find the answers you need. I have had very good dialogue with Rhonda whenever I've had a concern. Even if she can't do what I'm asking, she has been very transparent about her reasons. These days, that's a tall order for a publishing house.

I'm proud to say I'm an author for The Wild Rose Press, not just because of the good times, but because they have been fast and conscientious with me when I have had problems.

And that's why I keep coming back to them.

Nicki Greenwood

Saturday, March 01, 2014

The Second Time Around

For those who may have missed it as "Sophomore Slump" TWRP Author Kevin V Symmons has had another article put in the February edition of "Imagination in Flight"... New England Romance Writers monthly publication. This entry "The Second Time Around" follows his "Man in the Wilderness" piece from 2012 offering an amusing look at being a male romance writer!