Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Meet Kathleen Rowland and Read About ONE NIGHT IN HAVANA in the City Nights Erotic Romance Series for our #EggcerptExchange


About Kathleen

Book Buyers Best finalist Kathleen Rowland is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with an erotic love story sure to melt their hearts.  Her latest release is One Night in Havana, #34 in the City Nights erotic romance series.
Kathleen also has a steamy romantic suspense series with Tirgearr Publishing, Deadly Alliance is followed by Unholy Alliance. Keep an icy drink handy while reading these sizzling stories.

Kathleen used to write computer programs but now writes novels.   She grew up in Iowa where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake Okoboji.  Now she wears flip-flops and sails with her husband, Gerry, on Newport Harbor but wishes there were lightning bugs in California.
Kathleen exists happily with her witty CPA husband, Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California where she adores time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, one bunny, and noisy neighbors.  While proud of their five children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write.  If you’d enjoy news, sign up for Kathleen’s newsletter.

Kathleen picked the setting of Cuba for a reason. She wanted to trap her proud Cuban professor there. He survives because of his flamboyant personality and opportunistic nature. Cuba is a fascinating mid-century time warp. The 1950s cars still run due to amazing mechanics.  No matter how hardworking, Cubans exist under strict communistic rules such as the inability to move from one section of the country to another. Without free-enterprise they can’t make much money.  If they do leave, they can only bring ten thousand dollars with them, but this would be a huge amount of money for most Cubans. Big business such as cigar manufacture is government-run.

About One Night in Havana


A desperate competition and sizzling attraction leads to dangerous desire.

New York Marine biologist Veronica “Roni” Keane is attending the Havana Bay Conference in Cuba. Tomorrow only one grant will be awarded which will provide the winner with professional recognition, resources for a project, and living expenses for two years. She hopes to continue her deceased father’s work, but smooth operator, Carlos Montoya, has won many grants in the past.

Carlos, a freelancer for the Havana Port Authority, works to help protect Havana’s reputation as a bastion of safety. As international travelers flock to the island, attracted by its 1950’s time-warp and colonial architecture, the drug business is running rampant, particularly on Roni’s cruise ship. Something’s not right, and when her scuba tanks are tampered with, Carlos brings in the military police to investigate. For her safety, he keeps her close, but he craves her body.

Their attraction leads to a fun night with a bit of kink. But Roni finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for when the criminals blame her for alerting the military police and come looking for her. Can Roni trust Carlos to protect her? Will she stay in Havana if Carlos wins the coveted grant, or kiss her lover goodbye?

Excerpt-- Chapter One

“Why, Veronica Keane.” A voice heavy with a Spanish accent drawled from behind her. “A dive bar?” A taunting tsk. “What do we have? A slumming New Yorker?”
She stiffened and closed her eyes. She knew that voice and its owner, Dr. Carlos Montoya, a finalist like her, competing for the same damn grant at the biggest Cephalopoda conference of the decade. Her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs. To turn toward him would intimate distress, or worse yet, weakness. She wouldn’t fail to win this grant, not when she was a final contender. “I like this funky little place.” Sia Macario Café, smack in the center of Havana, allowed her to observe locals and their daily lives.
“You need to eat with all the mojitos you’ve downed.” The big tease wasn’t counting. This was her first drink, but his rumbling, sexy timbre hinted at all kinds of dark, hot promises. She’d rubbed shoulders with the Cuban scientist all week. This splendid specimen of Latin male brought on a physical ache that punched low.
A flare-up stirred fear. For her own good, she needed to resist. “I ordered camarones enchiladas.” By now she knew the menu on the chalkboard by heart. She tipped her head back to whiff grilled shrimp soon to arrive in sofrito sauce with fried sweet plantains.
“The flan is good. Just like my abuela makes.”
“I bet. Your grandmother would be happy to hear that,” she said, knowing he brought out the best in most people. Two days ago he'd invited her and a handful of others scuba diving. The chance to ogle him had been one of the perks. He’d worn nothing but swim trunks, his bare chest on display. Every glistening muscle was finely etched. Not a drop of fat on him. Since he’d not given her the time of day, she’d checked him out without him noticing.
The hard-bodied host had led the way toward habitats of soft-bodied creatures. To find where invertebrates lived was never an easy task. Octopuses squeezed into narrow passages of coral for protection and gave females a place to keep their eggs. She’d discovered the remains of a few meals nearby. Octopuses scattered rocks and shells to help them hide.
 This grant meant so much to her and no doubt to him as well. Veronica mindlessly toyed with the gold necklace around her neck, but anxiety crackled through her brain. Unlike this man of action, she lacked the flamboyant personality necessary to talk people into things. Carlos had that ability. He'd made friends with judges on board while she’d conversed with an older woman about a box of scones made with Cuban vanilla cream.
That day the wind had picked up to a gale force, and this woman named Bela with Lucille Ball red hair needed help walking to her home. The half mile down the seaside promenade, The Malecón, had provided her with time to practice her Spanish. Turned out Bela was Carlos’s grandmother. She’d worked as a maid when the Castro government came to power. When private homes were nationalized, titles were handed over to the dwelling occupants. Bela owned a crumbling home in the respected Verdado district and rented out rooms.
What Veronica detested about Carlos was his abnormal level of talent for schmoozing. Not that he wasn't charismatic; he drew her like a powerful magnet with emotions hard to untangle. Why was a self-assured woman who ran her own life thinking about a man who commanded everyone around him?
She inhaled a breath and turned around on the barstool, caught fast by a gut punch of Carlos Montoya in the flesh. She sighed and surrendered to the tendrils of want sliding up between her thighs.
Tall and muscular, his lush dark hair curled to his collar giving him a wild, roguish appearance. His face was lean and chiseled. His mouth full and tempting. His eyes the smoky-gray of a grass fire and fringed with black lashes as dense as paintbrushes. He smiled. A faint hint of mockery curved his mouth, a sensual mouth she imagined to be either inviting or cruel. Or both at the same time when he leaned over a woman with a diamond-hard gleam in his dark eyes while she drowned with pleasure. She fought a fierce desire to run her hand across his broad chest, tip her face upward, and…
His breath tickled her face.
Not going there. She blinked and forced her mind to focus. Carlos Montoya was not the kind of man you lost focus around. But that image of putting her mouth full on his and peeling away his shirt once introduced in her mind was impossible to expunge. Pointless even to try.
He was an intimidating blend of intellect and sexy danger. Both qualities had her leaning back against the bar’s edge. If it weren’t for him, she’d have a chance at winning the grant.
His lips twitched. “You’re staying on one of the cruise ships, am I right?” He rolled up the sleeves of his linen jacket to reveal a dusting of manly hair.
”Yes." Her cabin served as her hotel room while attending the January meetings with perfect high-seventies temperatures. His eyes locked with hers. She willed herself to move and yet she remained seated, clutching heat between her legs, a wetness so intense that her breath stalled in her chest while her heart hammered faster. Soon she’d return to freezing New York City.
“So, Bonita, give.” He slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What brings you down from a lofty ship to grace us lowly Cubans with your presence?”
Bonita. Pretty lady was not an endearment coming from the mouth curved in a taunting smile, but not a slight either. Not with his deep, melodic voice speaking words as if he knew secrets about her. What secrets did he know? Would he pry into her personal life? She doubted this bad-boy college professor acknowledged boundaries.
“Just drinks and dinner.” She scrambled for composure. “Aren’t we attending a world-class conference? I find the local population to be friendly and kind. That’s not slumming.”
The bartender set down a saoco. “Hope you like it, senorita.”
“Gracias,” she said. “Very nice, served in a coconut.”
“Ah, the saoco,” Carlos said. “Rum, lime juice, sugar, and ice. The saoco,” he repeated, disbelief heavy in his words. “Um. Wow. Once used as a tonic for prisoners of the revolution.”
“Medicinal?” She couldn’t help it. She chuckled and sounded as if a rusty spoon had scraped her throat raw, but it was genuine. The warm glow in its wake was welcome and needed.
He leaned an elbow on the bar, his beer bottle with the green-and-red Cristal label dangling between his fingers. “Be careful with that one.” He dipped his head toward the front door as if he needed to go somewhere soon.
That fast, the glow snuffed out. She cleared her throat and gripped the fuzzy surface of the coconut container.
He placed a five-peso coin with a brass plug on the counter and whirled it. The spinning motion mirrored a dizzying attraction going on in low parts of her belly. 



Connect with Kathleen  











Monday, February 26, 2018

Meet Kris Bock and Read About THE DEAD MAN'S TREASURE, her Romantic Suspense Novel, for our #EggcerptExchange


About Kris

Kris writes novels of suspense and romance with outdoor adventures and Southwestern landscapes. 

Counterfeits is the kind of romantic suspense novel I have enjoyed since I first read Mary Stewart’s Moonspinners.” 5 Stars – Roberta at Sensuous Reviews blog

Read excerpts at www.krisbock.com or visit her Amazon page.
Sign up for the Kris Bock newsletter for announcements of new books, sales, and more.

About THE DEAD MAN’S TREASURE


 The Dead Man's Treasure is fast-paced and a perfect read for the weekend. I highly recommend this one.”

Rebecca Westin is shocked to learn the grandfather she never knew has left her a bona fide buried treasure – but only if she can decipher a complex series of clues leading to it. The hunt would be challenging enough without interference from her half-siblings, who are determined to find the treasure first and keep it for themselves. Good thing Rebecca has recruited some help.

Sam is determined to show Rebecca that a desert adventure can be sexy and fun. But there’s a treacherous wildcard in the mix, a man willing to do anything to get that treasure – and revenge.

Action and romance combine in this lively Southwestern adventure, complete with riddles the reader is invited to solve to identify historical and cultural sites around New Mexico.

“I can't say enough how much I loved this book! It has mystery, adventure, danger, romance, and above it all family remains a huge theme.”

Excerpt

Rebecca’s hand shook as she reached for the box. It was a metal candy tin for peppermint bark. Maybe Grandpa had a sweet tooth? Or was this some random trash left by a tourist too lazy to bring it back to his car? She straightened and gazed down at the box. It had to hold the next clue. It would be too much of a coincidence – and too heartbreaking – if it were anything else.

She glanced at Sam and he nodded in encouragement, drawing close to her side. She swung open the lid. Several folded pieces of paper lay inside. A strip of masking tape on the inside lid had words in marker: “Take one and leave the others unless you are the last.”

Rebecca pulled out the top piece of paper and unfolded it.

Are they witches in disguise
Or prophets of the future?
The men who came here didn’t know.
They had destruction on their minds.
And they changed the world.
They ate of the flesh among bombers and bullets.
And so should you!

Then past the dead soldiers you’ll find a dead end.
One is the loneliest number
Walled off from its fellows.
Pay your respects and do not forget.

Another baffling poem. Rebecca wrinkled her nose. “This one’s kind of gruesome.”

“No kidding. What about the other papers?”

Rebecca crouched by a handy rock – not one with petroglyphs – and used it as a table. She pulled out the papers one by one and skimmed them. “They all seem to be the same.”

“We’d better double check to be sure. You read one and I’ll follow along on another.” They checked the five pieces of paper that way; all were identical.

“One for each of the grandchildren, I suppose. In case we weren’t working together.” Rebecca examined the box itself before returning four pieces of paper to it. Sophia would not be collecting her copy, but Rebecca couldn’t see any point in taking it, and the note said, “Take one.” Rebecca closed the box and stood.

For a moment, the world spun. She took a quick breath.

Sam’s arm came around her. “Okay?”

Two more deep breaths and she could answer. “Fine now, thanks. Just a little lightheaded.” She was tempted to lean into him, to relax against his shoulder. She resisted the urge. “I know, I know, drink water. Let me put this back.”

She returned the box to its hiding place, picked up the bottle she’d set down while looking at the clue, and finished the water. Sam hovered closely, as if to support her if she needed help. She couldn’t quite decide if she wished she needed help or was glad she didn’t. She wouldn’t fake helplessness, though, and the weakness had passed.

She gave Sam a bright smile. “All better now. I just stood up too fast.”

He studied her intently. She hadn’t realized how green his eyes were, or how the tiny laugh lines around them made him both sexy and approachable. Her heart thudded in her chest. You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t be fine.

Purchase The Dead Man’s Treasure on Amazon.

The Mad Monk’s Treasure is the first of the Southwest Treasure Hunters novels. The Dead Man’s Treasure is book 2 and The Skeleton Canyon Treasure is book 3. Each novel stands alone, with a new main couple, and is complete, with no cliffhangers. This series mixes action and adventure with romance. The stories explore the Southwest, especially New Mexico.

Connect with Kris


Friday, February 23, 2018

Meet Pamela S. Thibodeaux and Read About her Paranormal Romance KERI'S CHRISTMAS WISH, for our #eggcerptexchange


About Pam

Pam is an award-winning author, Co-Founder and lifetime member of Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.” Sign up to receive Pam’s newsletter and get a free short story!


Five Facts about Keri’s Christmas Wish

Keri’s Christmas Wish is the first, original fiction story I’ve written in its entirety since 2009.

Although I don’t normally write “paranormal”, Keri’s Christmas Wish is the second book I’ve written that contains paranormal elements. The Visionary is my first.

There were times after my husband’s death that I actually saw and felt his presence, therefore Keri experiencing something similar with her sister didn’t seem strange to me. The main difference is her sister never actually lived on earth as her mother miscarried the child a year before Keri was conceived.

The hero in KCW, Jeremy is an Energy Medicine Practitioner. I have personal experience with this form of homeopathic healing and know several EM practitioners.

The use of essential oils as demonstrated in KCW are being used more and more in naturopathic/homeopathic medicine.

A Short Synopsis of Keri’s Christmas Wish

For as long as she can remember, Keri Jackson has despised the hype and commercialism around Christmas so much she seldom enjoys the holiday. Will she get her wish and be free of the angst to truly enjoy Christmas this year?

A devout Christian at heart, Jeremy Hinton, a Psychotherapist, Life Coach, Spiritual Mentor and Energy Medicine Practitioner has studied all of the world’s religions and homeopathic healing modalities. But when a rare bacterial infection threatens the life of the woman he loves, will all of his faith and training be for naught?

Find out in Keri’s Christmas Wish

 Excerpt 

An image began to form in her mind…a young girl being led around on a horse by an ethereal figure. As the trio came closer, Keri felt as though she looked in a mirror. Her heart swelled. Tears clogged her throat, filled her eyes, and slipped down her cheeks.

“Hi, Keri!”

The childlike voice reverberated through her entire body. Keri smiled and whispered, “Hello.”

Excitement lit the youngster’s eyes. Brilliant colors vibrated around her. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re me as a little girl. That’s Spark, my horse who died when I was a teenager.”

Spark nodded his head as the girl giggled—a joyous melody that rang through the atmosphere. “No, silly, I’m your big sister. Only, I didn’t live very long.”

Tension seeped in, a mixture of shock and awe.

“Don’t be afraid. Ask mom.”

And then the mirage disappeared.

Purchase Keri’s Christmas Wish


Connect with Pam

Website     
Blog  


Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Read About SAVING GRACE by Aubrey Wynne, Contemporary Romance with Historical Elements

SAVING GRACE
by Aubrey Wynne

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Meet Romantic Suspense Author Karen Rock and Check Out DANGEROUS MOVES, Book 1 of Dallas After Dark

DANGEROUS MOVES
Dallas After Dark, Book 1
by Karen Rock

Monday, February 19, 2018

Meet Jacqueline Simon Gunn and Read About FOREVER AND ONE DAY, her Contemporary Romance

FOREVER AND ONE DAY
by Jacqueline Simon Gunn

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Warm Up With a Steamy Romance, BITTERSWEETS by Suzanne Jenkins

BITTERSWEETS
Oscar & Lisa
by Suzanne Jenkins

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

A Valentine's Day Bucket List Item: The Most Romantic Place on Earth, the City of Love--Venice, Italy


The most romantic place I've ever visited is Venice, Italy. When you get off the train, walk through the station, and open the doors, it’s like stepping into a fairy tale. The streets are all canals, and ornate ancient bridges span the canals, including the famous Bridge of Sighs, where prisoners gazed upon the city for the last time on their way to be locked up. On our last trip to Venice, I planned the trip to coincide with the full moon. When darkness fell, my husband and I had dinner and walked around. No moon yet. We stopped at a café and had gelato and cappuccino. No moon yet. We crossed a bridge and strolled some more. Still no moon. Finally, at 11:30, it rose, glowing and sending shimmering moonbeams over the canals. So I hadn’t figured what time that full moon was supposed to appear!



Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Meet R.L. Ramsey and Read About LOVE TIMES INFINITY, Book 1 of The Relinquished Series, Contemporary Romance

LOVE TIMES INFINITY
The Relinquished Series, Book 1
by K.L. Ramsey

Monday, February 12, 2018

Happy Birthday President Lincoln--Read About My Paranormal Twist on Booth's Insane Plot To Kill Him in A NECESSARY END

In 2006, I decided to combine my love of Lincoln and the paranormal. I began researching A NECESSARY END, my paranormal twist on John Wilkes Booth's insane plot to assassinate President Lincoln. It contains no fictional characters. 


Abraham Lincoln has fascinated me since I was eight years old. I don’t know what got me started, but it might’ve been a book which I still have titled The Life of Abraham Lincoln, Volume 1, written in 1895. When I was in 3rd grade, in the mid-60s (which shows how long I’ve been a Lincoln nut), my teacher asked us to bring a book to school from home, for a show & tell. My mother suggested I bring this Lincoln book, which even in 1966 was in bad shape—yellowed, stiffened strips of Scotch tape barely held the covers to the spine. With the wisdom of an 8-year-old that sadly, all of us outgrow, I demurred, saying, “This old book? She’ll think we’re poor!” My mother corrected me: “No, she’ll think we’re rich. Books like this are rare.” Then she proceeded to tape it up some more. 

Those 47-year-old Scotch tape fragments adhere to the book’s spine and pages to this day. My teacher, Miss Cohen, was duly impressed. I treasure that book to this day, and it’s one of many on my “Lincoln shelf” which holds books about our murdered president, his wife Mary, his assassin John Wilkes Booth and his family, the “Mad Booths of Maryland” and the conspirators who faced the gallows or years of hard labor because Booth, their charismatic leader, sucked these poor impressionable souls into his insane plot.

After writing 8 historicals set in England and New York City, I wanted to indulge my passion for Lincoln-lore. I began researching in depth about Lincoln’s life, his presidency, his role in the Civil War, and Booth’s plans to first kidnap him, and then to assassinate him. A NECESSARY END combined two genres I’m passionate about—history and paranormal. I joined The Surratt Society, based in Maryland, and attended their conferences and tours. Through the Surratt Society I met several Lincoln/Booth/Civil War experts. One lady I’ll never forget meeting is Marjorie “Peg” Page, who by all accounts except definitive DNA testing, is John Wilkes Booth’s great granddaughter. My trips to Lincoln's home and tomb in Springfield, Illinois, Gettysburg, Ford’s Theater, and the house he died in, Petersen House, brought me close to Mr. Lincoln’s spirit. My travels also acquainted me with Booth’s brother Edwin, the most famous actor of his time, and his unconventional family.  A recording of Edwin’s voice reciting Shakespeare on one of Edison’s wax cylinders still exists at  http://www.britannica.com/shakespeare/browse?browseId=248018 My paranormal experience includes investigations at several haunted homes, restaurants and graveyards. I investigate with a group from Merrimack, NH, led by CC Carole, www.ccthehuntress.com. I’ve never seen a ghost, but I’ve received responses to my questions with my dowsing rods. Wishing I had my recorder with me, I made a ghost laugh at the Jumel Mansion in Harlem, New York City, (see the story and photos on my blog, www.dianarubinoauthor.blogspot.com)
Tragically, we’ll never hear Abraham Lincoln’s voice. But his spirit lives on. In my book, which is fiction--but we all know that novels are fictionalized truths--I gave Booth what was coming to him. He got his justice in real life, but in A NECESSARY END, he also got the paranormal twist he deserves.
And I enjoyed sticking it to him!
I paralleled the Shakespeare play Julius Caesar in this story because in the play, Caesar was known as a tyrant to the Senators, who feared losing their power, as Booth feared losing the Confederacy. Booth always considered Lincoln the tyrant, hence his proclamation ‘sic simper tyrannis’ (be it ever to tyrants) when he jumped to the stage after shooting Lincoln.

Caesar’s Senators, Brutus and Cassius among them, conspired to stab Caesar to death on an appointed day. Booth recruited a group of like-minded disciples to aid him in his insane plot, at first to kidnap Lincoln, then to kill him.

By day, Booth was a Confederate spy and courier, taking dangerous missions so that his beloved South could fight the North in the war that tore the nation in two. But in this story, an even darker secret plagues him–he believes he’s the reincarnation of Brutus, the man who slew the tyrant Caesar, and Booth’s destiny in this life is to murder the tyrant who’s ravaged the South—Abraham Lincoln. In obeying the spirit of Brutus, Booth devises a plot to assassinate the tyrant.

I wrote it as a paranormal instead of a straight historical novel  because spirituality was extremely popular in 1865 and all throughout Victorian times. Mary Lincoln was a staunch spiritualist. So stricken with grief after the deaths of her boys Willie and Eddie, she hired mediums such as Nettie Maynard to visit the White House and hold séances in attempts to contact her boys from beyond the grave.

The extent of séances, table-tapping, Ouija boards, Tarot cards, and otherworldly activities in this era fit perfectly with the story I wanted to tell. We could never enter Booth’s head, but his insane behavior begs the question: was he truly haunted by a spirit who drove him to his heinous act that changed history forever?
Or was he simply insane?

Excerpt:

And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus!" Booth declared to the proud reflections in his three facing mirrors.
          The center mirror clouded over. Puzzled, he leaned into it to peer closer. His  reflection faded as if the mirror were clear glass, and another human form took shape, becoming sharper as the mist faded. He was astonished to be looking into the face of a man whose eyes bored into his, pinning him with an unnerving stare. Booth took a step back, glancing to the left, then to the right, but his own reflections were moving right along with him. He focused once more on the stranger in the center, the Roman nose giving the weathered features distinction. He’d seen this face before, but where?
          The head nodded and the hint of a pleased smile curled the thin lips. Without so much as a word, the figure faded into the mirror’s eternal depths, and Booth was once again looking at his own astonished face.
          “Damn you! Who are you?” He pounded the mirror and it wavered, his image jerking back and forth with the moving glass.
          Exasperated, he turned away.
          “I’ll find out who you are if I die doing it.” He twirled around to face the mirror, seeing only his three perplexed reflections.




Thursday, February 8, 2018

An Amusing Anecdote: Historian Ray Swick and My Bio Novel About Eliza Jumel Burr

When researching my biographical novel about Aaron Burr's last wife Eliza Jumel, I came across a quote about Aaron: "He was catnip to women" attributed to historian Ray Swick. I wanted to include that in my book, and figured he'd been one of Aaron's buddies who lived in the 19th century or even earlier, during Aaron's salad days as a ladies' man AND catnip (he was very good looking! Take a gander, below)



I asked one of my Aaron Burr Association friends, Marty Kakuk, who told me that Ray Swick is very much alive and living in West Virginia! She put me in touch with him, and I asked his permission to use his quote. He graciously obliged. 


The book went on sale, with Ray's quote, and he sent me this message just last week:


Do you believe that confession is good for the soul? I trust you will, because mine is about to descend upon you. For many years, since I coined the phrase about Aaron Burr being "catnip to women", I labored under the illusion that it was an original thought that had descended on me one day courtesy of Clio, the muse of history. But lo and behold, not long after I dispatched written permission to you to use the expression in your book, while sorting through some of my books while downsizing my library, I happened across some old copies of the American Heritage magazine. I was scanning through the stack to see if I should save any of them, when my eye lit upon an article in the August 1965 issue. About Rudolph Valentino, it is entitled, "The Overloved One". In an early paragraph there appears a line that almost made me drop my upper plate: "H. L. Mencken...described the Sheik as 'catnip to women'. So you see, quite unwittingly, I am a FAKE! I can only suppose that, decades ago, I read the article and the phrase lodged in my subconscious.


I am going into such detail in case some voracious reader will come across the American Heritage piece and then accuse you of misquoting the catnip phrase. So all I can say is, Forgive! Please Forgive!!!

Ray, you are forgiven, and I hope my readers will forgive him, too!




Purchase ELIZA JUMEL BURR, VICE QUEEN OF THE UNITED STATES on Amazon

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Meet Susan Noble and Read About Her Fantasy Novel BLOOD BOND, Released Today

About Susan

Susan has always loved dragons and magic, so it is no wonder that she became an author of fantasy novels. As a cat lover, she also had to throw in a telepathic cat to the mix in her The Elemental trilogy. In addition to her trilogy, she has published The Search, a short story prequel to the trilogy and The Heir to Alexandria, a full-length standalone fantasy adventure. Her latest fantasy, Blood Bond, was released February 6, 2018.

When she isn’t writing, Susan is an active volunteer in her neighborhood and at her children’s schools. She lives with her husband, two children, three cats and two Cocker Spaniels in Texas. 

About BLOOD BOND


Man severed the alliance with the dragons fifty years ago. But now an invading army marches north destroying everything in its path. The dragons believe only together can the invaders be defeated. They need an emissary.

Womanizer. Drunk. Failure. Soren is many things. A leader isn’t one of them. But, Dex, the dragon that saves him from a cliff, believes different. Thrust into an adventure he never wanted, Soren’s life changes forever when during a battle Dex’s blood mixes with his blood creating a mystical blood bond – forever linking them.

As the bond strengthens, Soren must decide whether to return to his old life or accept the bond and embrace his role in the battle against the invading army.  

An Excerpt from BLOOD BOND

Soren scrambled to his feet as the golden dragon, Rakkah, landed near him. For a moment, they stared at each other. 

“You shouldn’t be bonded to Reddex.” Her voice reverberated within his head as she flicked her tail.
“It wasn’t by choice,” he said, speaking directly into her mind.

He didn’t like the feeling of being trapped with the tree behind his back and stepped away from it. He carefully kept Rakkah in front of him as he moved. 

“That matters not.” She walked around him. “Definitely not worthy to be a dragon rider.” 
Pride had him lifting his chin. “Maybe not but Dex said I was the one to help bridge man and dragon.”

“Is that what he told you? Did he tell you about the others?” She studied him, before chuckling. “I can tell by the look on your face, he didn’t. You weren’t the first one he approached you know. There were others. He settled for you.”

Soren shook his head. “No that isn’t true. He said he had a feeling I was the one.” 

“A smooth line if I ever heard one. I’ll let you in on something. If he said that, it was him manipulating you. There were others who turned him down. He was under time pressure, so he settled for you. And it is only by accident he is now linked to you. I am sure he would rather not be. I know I would.” She flicked her tail. “Take Warnox up on his offer. It will be better for everyone.”
He shook his head. “I don’t…”

Before he could continue, Rakkah’s words sunk in and his bewilderment turned to anger. His heart pounded, and his shoulders shook. And then Dex was there. The red dragon faced Rakkah, slashing his own tail. Soren couldn’t hear anything but was sure words were exchanged between the two as they circled each other, their eyes locked. Suddenly, Rakkah leapt into the air and flew back to the other dragons. Dex turned to Soren. 

“I don’t know what Rakkah said to you, but I could feel your confusion…and your anger.” 

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his fists clinched. “Was I your first choice?”

“My first choice? Choice for what?”

“To help you approach the King.”

Dex stared at him for a moment before looking down. “You weren’t the first I approached, but Soren…” 

He didn’t wait to hear any more. Soren walked over to Warnox. With each step, his anger grew. He could still hear Rakkah’s taunting voice. She had been right. He wasn’t Dex’s first choice. He had lied to him about being the one the dragons needed. He shook his head as if to clear the thoughts away. But they persisted, and he quickly covered the distance to the other dragons and to his freedom.
“Take me back to Ballinger,” he said to Warnox. 

The brown dragon regarded him for a moment. “You can ride on Barth. Mount up. It is time to go.”
Soren briefly recoiled at the thought of riding without a harness but reassured himself it would only be a short distance. Barth bent down, and he scrambled onto his back. 

“Soren?” Dex asked, his voice cautious.

He didn’t respond or even look at Dex as Barth took off, following the other dragons into the air. He grabbed for the harness before realizing it wasn’t there. His hands searched for something to hold on to but found nothing. As Barth leveled out, Soren resisted the urge to look at the ground far below. 
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Barth asked.

Soren hesitated. "Yes. It is for the best. I am not meant to be a dragon rider." 

“Can you sense Reddex from here?”

Soren felt unsettled but couldn’t determine if it was his own feeling or if it came from Dex too. As he concentrated, he could feel Dex’s anxiety.

“He is worried,” he admitted reluctantly.

“You shouldn’t be able to connect with him at this distance. He told me how far apart you two have been when you have communicated. It is farther than any other linked pair.”

Soren watched Warnox and the other dragons disappear before his eyes, Blinking back to the City of Ballinger. He knew Barth would follow suit in a moment and felt a twinge of regret.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Barth said. 

Suddenly, he dove toward the ground, flipping over in the air. Soren’s fingers tried to grasp onto Barth’s back but there was nothing to hold. He fell through the air. He saw Barth above him and then nothing but the blue sky as Barth Blinked. 

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Monday, February 5, 2018

Meet my Guest Diane Burton and Read About THE CASE OF THE MEDDLING MAMA

Meet Diane:

Diane combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction and romance into writing romantic fiction. Besides the science fiction romance Switched and Outer Rim series, she is the author of One Red Shoe, a romantic suspense, and the Alex O’Hara PI mystery series. She is also a contributor to two anthologies: Portals, Volume 2 and How I Met My Husband. Diane and her husband live in West Michigan. They have two children and five grandchildren.

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Mothers

Wait. Mother’s Day isn’t until May, so why am I writing about mothers in February? Mothers deserve more than one day or month to be remembered. More than just remembered, appreciated. I was so blessed by having three wonderful mothers in my life.

My mom proved that women can do anything they want to. She was a pampered city girl, the baby of the family, transplanted to a mini-farm in the middle of nowhere. Dad and his brothers built our house, but once the drywall was up, separating rooms, he considered his work done. Mom learned how to spackle seams and nailheads, paint, and lay tile—not the peel-and-stick kind, the old asphalt tiles with a black sticky mastic that had to be spread first. Why? Because she wanted to see more than bare drywall and plywood floors. She did all that over a couple of years, while also having seven kids.

My mother-in-law knew that her future husband and his mother were a package deal. Her MIL lived with them for twenty-five years. I can’t imagine. Especially, having a strong-willed mother-in-law. My MIL had one child. Since he took his own sweet time finding the right girl (moi), she despaired of him ever getting married, let alone having grandkids. When our first was a girl, MIL was ecstatic. I didn’t need to buy dresses, MIL couldn’t find enough. But the best thing about her was that she never criticized. At least, not that I knew.

MIL’s sister was my third “mother.” In their later years, she and my in-laws did everything together. MIL didn’t drive, her sister did. An independent woman for years, she didn’t marry until her middle-fifties and only for less than ten years when he died. After my father-in-law passed away, she organized trips for herself and her sister. They were in their early 90s by this time. After the first trip to Europe, they invited my widowed mother to join them. (Mom was the spring chicken in her middle 70s.) The three of them traveled to Europe several times until age started taking its toll on the two 90+ year-olds, and Alzheimer’s began to rob Mom’s mind.

Mom lived to be 84, MIL 102, her sister 100. Our children consider all three their grandmothers. I considered them my “Moms.”

Not everyone is as blessed as I’ve been. Mothers range from doting to demanding, from prying to interfering to meddling.

In the 3rd book in the Alex O’Hara PI mystery series, The Case of the Meddling Mama, her boyfriend’s mother comes for a visit . . . and stays. After Alex’s father and his business partner turned the investigation agency over to Alex, they moved to Arizona. That allowed her to be her own person without them hanging over her shoulder. Nice for her. Not so nice for the biz partner’s wife. Although it was her idea to move away from the bitter cold Michigan winters, she didn’t expect that her husband would get a mistress, one whose name is spelled GOLF. After a year of losing him to that sport, she gave up and moved back home. And in with Alex.

That put a big crimp in Alex’s love life. No way was her boyfriend sleeping with her with his mother down the hall. Since his mother had once been involved in the agency as secretary, receptionist, etc. and Alex’s last receptionist had been carted off to jail, she appointed herself office manager. That made her an integral part of Alex’s business and personal life. That also entitled her to express her opinion on both levels. Can we spell meddling?

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About The Case of the Meddling Mama 


Once again, Alex O’Hara is up to her ears in mysteries. After surviving an attempted murder, all she wants is R&R time with Nick Palzetti. But his mother leaving his father (“that horse’s patoot”) and moving in with Alex puts a crimp in their plans. Then Nick leaves on assignment and the teen she rescued from an abusive father believes his buddy is doing drugs. Meanwhile, Alex has two easy cases to take her mind off her shaky relationship with Nick—a philandering husband and a background check on a client’s boyfriend. Piece of cake.

Excerpt

“Alexandra, is that you?” Maria Palzetti, Nick’s mom and self-appointed office manager, called out as I came in through the back door of the agency.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“It is I,” Maria corrected as she bustled down the hall. Short and a little on the plump side, she always looked stylish. Today, she wore a floral infinity scarf over a soft lavender short-sleeve sweater and a gray skirt. Her salt-and-pepper hair framed her face on which she wore light make-up. “Always remember to use proper English.”
“Yes, Mother,” I said, hoping my grin would take the sting out of my smart-aleck response. After Mom died, Maria had become the closest thing to a mother, even though she never tried to take Mom’s place. Actually, she was my mother-in-law—she just didn’t know it.
And I wasn’t saying.

The Case of the Meddling Mama: An Alex O’Hara Novel is available at:


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Friday, February 2, 2018

Check out Paranormal Romance THE DEMON DELIVERANCE by Victoria Danann

THE DEMON DELIVERANCE
Knights of Black Swan, Book 12
by Victoria Danann