Bewitching Book Tours Magazine September 2013

Bewitching Book Tours Magazine Issue 15 September 2013 Bewitching Book Tours Magazine is a publication of Bewitching Book Tours and Bewitching Books.

Editor: Roxanne Rhoads Design Editor and Layout: Lisa McGeen Contributors include Bewitching Book Tours Authors and Tour Hosts learn more at www.bewitchingbooktours.blogspot.com Submission details- for every issue we are accept: Articles- topics include writing, research, paranormal, vampires, advice for authors, publishing advice, and more Flash Fiction- paranormal, urban fantasy and erotica (for other genres please query) True tales of paranormal encounters Recipes Poetry Book reviews Please send submissions to RoxanneRhoads@bewitchingbooktours.com place “Bewitching Magazine Submission” in subject line. Contributors receive free ad space in the magazine.

Ad space rates are: $40 full page ad $20 half page ad $10 quarter page ad You can subscribe to this magazine at http://issuu.com/ bewitchingbooktours © Copyright 2013 Stock images from www.123rf.com

Contents Living the Dream: The Life of an Author Cassie Scot Feature The Wooden Chair Excerpt Tarot In Fiction Catwalk: Messiah Feature Wolf Born Excerpt Southern Witch Series Feature Laurel Cremant Interview and Feature Deamhan Excerpt Suzanne Johnson Feature The House Feature Lucky Phoo Feature Wail of the Banshees Feature Paranormals,when did that happen?

Hot Flashes Feature Obsession Excerpt Sexy Men of Mystery Feature This Ring Feature Trust Trilogy Feature Naughty Nook Prequel to an Erotic Career Green Living Tips

4 6 12 16 18 22 26 44 48 52 58 62 64 67 68 70 74 80 84 90 91 93

Living the Dream: The Life of an Author But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

Lord Byron My first love was words. My passion was reading. As a child I grew up in a semi-rural area without other children to play with. I filled my days with books. Books became my companions, my teachers, my best friends. I devoured every book I could get my hands on and reveled in the knowledge and feelings they gave me. The words I read inspired me. They filled my mind and my soul.

I decided at a very young age that I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be able to give other people knowledge and make them feel. I wanted to be able to change people, to make them think, to give them the kind of joy only a good book can do. I wanted to be able to inspire.

I started writing poems and stories in elementary school. Every year my school took part in the Young Author’s Conference. My books were chosen several times and I was able to attend the conference and workshops. When I was eleven, I attended a summer writing program and several of my poems were chosen to appear in a local magazine. I was hooked. I knew I wanted to be a writer.

Throughout high school I wrote for the school newspaper and the teen section “Word Up” of our local newspaper The Flint Journal.

During my first years at college I wrote for the college paper and a local entertainment magazine.

And then life and kids came along and I had to put my writing on hold because it didn’t pay the bills. I still scribbled things in notebooks here and there but writing as a career was out of focus.

Bonnie Friedman said “Successful writers are not the ones who write the best sentences. They are the ones who keep writing. They are the ones who discover what is most important and strangest and most pleasurable in themselves, and keep believing in the value of their work, despite the difficulties.”

Eventually it got to the point where the only thing I write was to-do lists and grocery lists. And that left a strange emptiness inside me.

Writing was supposed to be part of me. I was a writer, it’s how I identified. But I had ceased to write. I had ceased to dream of being an author.

Humans have the capacity to dream, to strive for something better, and to want something more. A dream is part of a person. Left unfulfilled or at the very least not attempted to fulfill, it can leave a gaping void in your soul.

Eventually I realized that something was missing.

I realized I had to do something to fill that emptiness. Everyone should have the chance to live their dreams, if only for a little while.

Life is too short to be left with unfulfilled dreams and it is never too late to live your dream. I plan to keep writing and striving and working towards my dreams and my goals. One day I know I will achieve what I have set out to do.

I came back to writing in 2005 and have been writing and working in the book world steadily since then.

I love that I now live my dream and have my dream job. I am a writer at heart and I always will be- and now not only do I write, but I help others live their dreams as well, by everyday helping authors show their books to the world.

It’s funny, as a teenager I dreamed of having my own ‘zine but back then you had to be highly computer literate, have expensive design programs and be willing to drop a lot on printing costs because at that time an e-zine (or ebook) was unheard of.

Now here I am twenty years later owning an operating an internet based company specializing in virtual book tours with one of our features being this e-zine. I hope you enjoy our Bewitching little place in the enormous world of books.

And I hope this inspires other hopeful authors and artists- you never know where your dreams will lead you but you should at least take the chance and follow them. Let them lead the way.

Henry David Thoreau said it best “Go confidently into the direction of your dreams! Live the life you always imagined.” ~Roxanne Rhoads

What inspired you to become an author?

I've always been a writer and story teller. Before I could read I made up stories about the pictures. I wrote my first short story about Cabbage Patch Dolls going to Mars at 8 years old. Writing is in my soul. Authorship is just the part where you get published. That part took more guts because it meant I had to open myself to criticism, but I'm not sure what other choice I could have made.

Do you have a specific writing style?

I would call my style conversational. This is never more true than in my Cassie Scot series, where I decided to give first person a try for the first time. I wrote it like I would talk to a friend. That's Cassie's voice. Even when I don't do first person, though, I like to write clearly and accessibly. I'm not into flower prose because I want the words to get out of the way for the characters and the story.

Do you write in different genres?

I write in a few different sub-genres, but so far I have stuck to fantasy and science fiction. All of my novels have some mystery in them. The Cassie Scot series has a romance in it. (Arguably so do the others, but without nearly as much importance.) Of my three published books, I would call the first paranormal, the second pure scifi, and the third urban (contemporary) fantasy. The next... who knows? It will almost certainly have something magical or other-worldly in it. It will also

almost certainly have romance in it, because I've been enjoying that immensely.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

With a great deal of difficulty. Actually, the subtitle with the crossed-out “para” in “paranormal” came to me almost as soon as I came up with the idea.

The rest was tougher. I went through several painful titles before I came to the conclusion that simple was best. The book is primarily about Cassie Scot, so I named it after her.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Readers are welcome to simply enjoy if they like, but yes, I've got a few themes/messages sprinkled throughout the esries. Self-acceptance is probably the biggest. Cassie struggles with her lack of magic in a magical world, but she has other talents if she can just learn to embrace who she is instead of who she thinks she should be.

Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

Cassie. She was vivid from the start and was one of those characters who demanded her story be written. I couldn't say no to her even if I had wanted to. She's strong, vulnerable, sassy, compassionate, and just so very real.

If this book is part of a series‌what is the next book? Any details you can share?

Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective Cassie Scot Book One Christine Amsden

Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot #2) will be available November 15, 2013 – not too far away! It starts off right where the first book ends, with Cassie in serious debt to Evan Blackwood and having problems with her family. I'm excited for the upcoming release of book two. I think the direction I took it may surprise some readers. Hopefully in a good way!

Genre: Urban Fantasy (paranormal, mystery, romance, new adult) Publisher: Twilight Times Books Date of Publication: May 15, 2013

What books/authors have influenced your life?

I have to start with Orson Scott Card since I attended his boot camp in 2003 and that experience really started my professional writing life. I particularly loved Ender's Game and Ender's Shadow by him. I also love The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher and Karen Marie Moning's Fever series. Going back in time, I loved Madeleine L'Engle as a child.

I read some of her books several times.

ISBN: 9781606197 ASIN:B00C7VR69I Number of pages: 260 Word Count: 85,000 Cover Artist: Ural Akyutz Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/UPWGTW5OHG4 Amazon BN

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

Book Description: The book I'm working on now is Madison's Song, a spin-off to the Cassie Scot series. Cassie's story is over in four books (all written and coming out within the next year). But a couple of her friends god a bit too big for me to simply sum them up in a subplot within Cassie's story. Madison is one of them.

Kaitlin is the other. You'll start to see what I mean in Secrets and Lies (#2), since they stay properly in the background in the first book.

Who designed the cover of your latest book?

Cassie Scot is the ungifted daughter of powerful sorcerers, born between worlds but belonging to neither. At 21, all she wants is to find a place for herself, but earning a living as a private investigator in the shadow of her family's reputation isn't easy. When she is pulled into a paranormal investigation, and tempted by a powerful and handsome sorcerer, she will have to decide where she truly belongs.

About the Author

Christine Amsden has been writing science fiction Ural Akyutz painted the covers for Cassie Scot and and fantasy for as long as she can remember. She loves to write and it is her dream that others will be Secrets and Lies. I know, I know... painted? It's inspired by this love and by her stories. Speculavery retro these days. Most covers are done with tive fiction is fun, magical, and imaginative but photo manipulation now, but I like the idea that great speculative fiction is about real people definsomeone created an image just for my books. ing themselves through extraordinary situations.

Christine writes primarily about people and it is in Thank you so much for having me here today! this way that she strives to make science fiction and fantasy meaningful for everyone.

At the age of 16, Christine was diagnosed with Stargardt’s Disease, a condition that effects the retina and causes a loss of central vision. She is now legally blind, but has not let this slow her down or get in the way of her dreams. (You can learn more here.)

In addition to writing, Christine teaches workshops on writing at Savvy Authors. She also does some freelance editing work.

Christine currently lives in the Kansas City area with her husband, Austin, who has been her biggest fan and the key to her success. They have two beautiful children, Drake and Celeste.

Website: http://christineamsden.com/wordpress/ Blog: http://christineamsden.com/wordpress/?page_id=200 Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChristineAmsden Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/ChristineAmsden-Author-Page/127673027288664 Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/1030664.Christine_Amsden Google+ https://plus.google.com/ u/0/117845642477854934607/posts

Excerpt Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective

At random, I picked up a bottle of perfume from the top shelf and read: “Induces powerful lust.

Spray on your intended and make sure you are the first person they see. Lasts about an hour.”

The thing you have to understand about any magic is that there are good ways to use it, and bad ways to use it. The concept of black magic is a hotly debated topic among sorcerers. Even death, in self defense, is a shade of gray. As I stood there, reading the functions of the various love potions, I thought of all the innocent and harmful ways they could be used. A couple in a committed relationship might have a lot of fun with a spray of lust. On the other hand, using it on an unwilling victim...

I shuddered as I replaced the bottle and accidentally knocked one of the neighboring bottles of perfume to the ground. It shattered, splashing perfume all over my open-toed sandals.

“Crap.”

“What happened?” Evan asked, his voice hard and alert. I could hear him moving closer.

“Stop! I don't want to see you right now.”

“Which potion was that?” Evan asked, still in that hard-edged voice of command.

I pointed to the row of similar bottles on the top shelf. “Lust.”

One of the little bottles floated away from the shelf, but I did not turn around to see what Evan was doing with it. Instead, I started looking through my purse for a pack of tissues to clean the mess off my feet.

“Cassie, I have some bad news for you.”

“Worse, you mean?”

“This potion doesn't take affect until you actually look at someone. Your hour starts then.”

Flash Fiction A Cassie Scott Mini-Story

By Christine Amsden Last night, I was just about to close up and go home for the day when an old woman walked into my office with a cat carrier. Inside the carrier, a black cat hissed and yowled. I suppose I would have felt that way too, if someone had locked me inside a little cage. I felt instant sympathy for the cat. Not so much for the old lady.

“Cassandra Scot?” she asked.

“Cassie,” I corrected automatically. Only my parents called me Cassandra.

“I knew your grandparents.”

I tried not to groan. My grandparents had been highly respected sorcerers until they died in a lab explosion a few years back. I never knew what they had been working on, but since that day there has been a swirling vortex in the lab.

Don't ask – I really have no idea.

“Have we met?” I asked.

“Miranda Cleaver. Mrs. Cleaver.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cleaver.”

If she heard my sarcastic emphasis on the honorific, she didn't mention it.

“Your grandparents used to set wards in my house to keep the demons out,” Mrs. Cleaver said.

“Since they've died, the wards have failed. There are now demons running amuck in my house, and Sylvie – my poor cat – has been possessed by the devil.”

“I... see.” What was I supposed to say? She had just walked past a sign proclaiming, “Cassie Scot: Normal Detective.”

“I read your web site,” Mrs. Cleaver said.

“Really? Did you see my list of services and exemptions?”

“Of course.”

“So what do you need?”

“An exorcism. I told you, Sylvie is possessed by the devil.”

I glanced again at the hissing cat, whose yellow eyes shone with very typical feline anger. “I don't do exorcisms. It was listed under exemptions.”

“But you're Cassandra Scot, aren't you?”

“Cassie.”

“Your parents are Edward and Sheila Scot?”

“Yes.” I felt my face burning. Just because I had powerful sorcerers for parents, didn't mean I was one as well. Okay, so it wasn't just my parents – it was my grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousins, brothers, and sisters. Still, there had to be a second cousin out there somewhere without any magic at all.

Why couldn't people just read the sign?

“Well, then.” She sounded as if the whole matter were settled. She plunked the carrier on my desk and took a vacant chair in front. “I went to your father first. Your grandparents always told me to go to him if I needed anything after they were gone. Your father said you were ideally suited for this sort of work.”

“He did?” My dad wasn't above a practical joke, but this sounded more like something my brother would do. My brother, who looked more like Dad's twin that his son, thanks to Dad's egregious use of youthening potions.

“Nicolas,” I muttered under my breath. “This is war.”

“What's that, dear?”

“Why don't I take a quick look at the cat?”

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Cleaver clearly had not expected any other result.

I opened the door to the cage, but carefully did not reach my hand inside. The cat stopped hissing. After a moment or two, it poked its nose outside the cage, sniffing the air. Then it stepped out-

side.

That's when I noticed how very pregnant Sylvie was.

“She needs to see a vet,” I said. “She's going to have kittens.”

“I know. Little demons. It never used to happen when your grandparents were alive.”

“I... see.” I seemed to be saying that a lot. “You know what? I think I'll need to keep her for a few days. I'll call you when she's free of the... demon.”

“You will?” Mrs. Cleaver's eyes shone with relief. Crazy or not, I knew I'd said the right thing.

“How much will it cost? I don't have a lot of money.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“I really must pay you.” She dug through her beaded handbag, closing her fist around a bill, which she handed to me with the air of someone bestowing a treat on a young child. “Thank you so much.”

I watched in bemusement as she walked out the door, leaving me to deal with the pregnant cat. I figured I'd take Sylvie home to my sister, Juliana, a gifted healer. She had been begging our parents for a cat lately, anyway.

As soon as the door closed behind the old lady, I glanced at the bill she had pressed into my hands. A single dollar. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

At least my parents are rich.

“This is the last paranormal case I'm taking though,” I said to whoever might be listening.

Sylvie meowed. I think she knew I was kidding myself.

Excerpt The Wooden Chair Chapter 1 Helsinki, May 1942

The policewoman stood on the corner of the crowded marketplace, staring at a little girl with long legs and curly toffee blond hair. The child sang a popular German refrain with high-pitched fervor. “Wie einst, Lili Marlene, wie einst, Lili Marlene.” (My Lili of the lamplight, my own Lili Marlene).Suppressing a smile, the policewoman observed the little girl standing with feet slightly apart, hand outstretched to receive what coins the shoppers could afford. An orange cardigan accentuated her long neck and the high cheekbones of her pale face. She kept adjusting black-rimmed glasses that slipped down her nose.

This was a mere child, at the most five years old. Is there no adult accompanying her? The policewoman studied the crowd.

The officer approached the little singer. “Are you here alone?”

A shy smile came and went on the child’s face. Her eyes, dark like bitter chocolate, were wary behind thick glasses that detracted from her prettiness. She nodded, causing her glasses to slide again.

“Where’s your mother?”

She waved in the general direction of the street. “My Mamma’s there.”

The policewoman creased her brow. “Why aren’t you with your mother?”

“Mamma doesn’t want me to be with her.”

That’s odd. “How old are you?”

“I’m … this old” She held up four fingers.

“You’re four years old?”

“Uh-huh. Almost five.”

“Why are you singing in the street? Does your Mamma know you’re begging?”

The girl shook her head vigorously, shoulder length curls dancing. “I don’t beg.” She stamped her foot. “My

Mamma says it’s bad to beg. I’m not bad. I sing so I get money to take the yellow tram home.”

She speaks Finnish with a slight accent, the vowels not so open. Her mother tongue is probably Swedish. She looked into the girl’s palm. It contained two one-penny copper coins. Poor kid, she’s not going far on so little money.

“Where do you live, little girl?”

“There.” Again she waived a tiny hand toward the city center. “At the end of the yellow tram line.”

“Can you show me where you live if I take you?”

The child raised her shoulders and made a movement with her head, which might have been “yes” or “no.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mamma says not to tell strangers.”

“Your Mamma is right.” She tugged at the lapel of her uniform jacket. “I’m a policewoman, so you can tell me.”

“I’m Leini.”

“Leini? That’s a pretty name.” The policewoman looked around at the small group of people drawn close by the interaction. “What’s your family name…? Your second name?” she added, in case Leini didn’t understand “family name.”

The girl looked at her from under her brow, mistrust in those dark eyes. She shook her head while she played with a strand of hair, twirling it between forefinger and middle finger.

The policewoman smiled. “My name is Tuula Heinonen.” Perhaps this will help. “Now you know mine.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Please tell me yours.”

A fleeting smile crossed the child’s lips, and she held out her hand to shake. “I’m Leini Ruth Bauman.”

Tuula took the slim hand and held it in her own. She looked into the crowd, hoping to spot the mother.

“I have an idea,” Tuula said, pointing at a phone booth across the market square. “Let’s have a look in the phone book to see if I can find your address, so I can take you home.”

Leini gazed at her with eyes too serious for a small child. Making up her mind, she stuck her hand in Tuula’s. “Let’s.”

Adjusting her pace to Leini’s, Tuula pushed through the throng of people. Her ears caught snippets of conversations from the cacophony of Swedish, Finnish and the occasional word in Russian, mingled in with an organ grinder’s tune. She glanced at the crowd, mainly women and children, here and there an elderly man or a very young boy among them. Every able-bodied man was now defending Finland against the Russian army.

Holding the door for Leini, Tuula followed her inside the booth. “Here’s the book.” She glanced at the girl’s upturned face. “Now, let’s see. Bal, Bar, Bas. Ah, here.” She kept talking to reassure Leini. “Hmm. There are several Baumans.” Tuula caressed Leini’s head, the hair silky under her hand. “What’s your father’s name?”

“Papi.”

Tuula laughed low in her throat. Have to try something else. “Well, there’s no ‘Papi’ listed. Does he have another name?”

“No, just Papi.”

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Mamma Mira.”

“Good girl.” She ran her finger down the column of Baumans …. Herman, Markus, Oskar, Pertti. “There! I found it—Robert and Mira.” She gazed at Leini. “Does it sound right?”

“Uh-huh, Papi Robert and Mamma Mira.”

woman and made a supreme effort to paste a pleasant look on her face.

“I’m Mira Bauman. Thank you for finding my daughter. She wanders away. Does it often.”

Tuula introduced herself. “Yes, she was alone, singing at the market place. I took it upon myself to bring her home. Your daughter is lovely.”

“You don’t know the half of it. She’s a little monster. In the company of people she’s all right. At home with me she’s quite a handful.”

The look in Tuula’s eyes told Mira that she’d said too much. Using a more pleasant tone, Mira apologized for Leini’s behavior.

“No trouble. We enjoyed her singing, but she’s much too young to be in the streets on her own.” Smiling at Leini, Tuula bent to touch the child’s cheek with the back of her hand. “There could be a bombardment any minute. Then what would she do? She doesn’t seem to know where she lives. I looked in the phone book for your address.”

“She’d manage. She always does,” Mira said, a slight quaver in her voice. She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking at the thought that, yet again, here was Leini, looking dumb as usual with her mouth half open, those horrid glasses magnifying her eyes.

Her beseeching gaze and stooping shoulders only infuriated Mira more.

# As the doorbell rang, Mira’s brow her furrowed in several horizontal creases in irritation at being disturbed. She glanced at the meat-and-vegetable soup simmering on the stove. After she turned off the gas and wiped her hands on a towel, she took a deep puff of the cigarette smoldering in an ashtray and crossed the small sitting room to the entry hall.

Mira sucked air into her lungs at the sight of the child and fought the urge to slam the door. She glared at the woman who clutched the child’s hand. Leaning over Leini, Mira grabbed her arm.

Amazon Barnes and Noble Leini winced and tried to pull away.

“You hopeless number,” Mira hissed. “Where have you been?”

Kobo Books Google Sony Leini twisted her arm back and forth. “Mamma, you’re hurting me.”

Untreed Reads Publishing Letting go of Leini, she turned to the police-

The Wooden Chair Rayne E. Golay Genre: Family saga/ literary fiction Publisher: Untreed Reads Publication Date of Publication: May 15, 2013 ISBN: 9781611875614 Number of pages: 317 Word Count: 100,00

of course. I was no more than six years old when my father obtained a library card for me. Believe me, that was one of the happiest days of my childhood. To this Winner of the Royal Palm Award, Florida Writers day, I read at least three books a week. In school, I alAssociation ways had high grades in composition and wanted to be Set against the background of the Finno-Russian winter a journalist, but my parents had other plans. I got a war, this story starts I Helsinki in 1943 and spans over Masters degree in psychology, was certified as addictions counselor in England after studies in the United fifty years of Leini Bauman’s life.

States.

As a child, Leini stands ready to do anything to win her Skilled in languages, from the age of fifteen I translated mother Mira’s love. This effort costs her the sight in dialogues in Hollywood movies from English into one eye and as a result, causes her to endure bullying from kids her own age. As a teenager, with her Grand- Finnish and Swedish. This, my first paying job, came pa’s help, she undergoes one more surgery to straighten through my father, who was the Nordic managing diher eye, but the psychological scar of the events of her rector of a prominent American film company. childhood remain.

After graduation, I married, had two children in rapid Leini struggles to break free of Mira’s tyranny by leav- succession. My then husband was transferred to Geneing her native Helsinki to study psychology at Geneva va, Switzerland, so that’s where we moved with our two wonderful children.

University. A few years later, married, herself to a wonderful man, about to become a mother, she is deterIn Geneva, I worked in a multinational company as an mined with her own children not to repeat Mira’s beaddictions counselor with responsibilities for all of the havior. With the help of a psychiatrist, she labors company’s European subsidiaries. During this time, I through the pains of past hurts to become a nurturing wrote two non-fiction books: one about alcoholism, and loving mother and wife, as well as a successful another about dysfunction in the workplace. I also professional, as she grows from victim to victor over adversity. Can her efforts lead her to the one thing she wrote the script to “Something of The Danger That Exists,” a 50 minute film, used within the company as part needs to discover the most - the ability to forgive her of an educational program, which I facilitated. In my mother? function, I was a frequent speaker on dependence at conferences and business groups. As I oversaw compaAbout the Author: ny sites throughout Europe and the then East Block countries, I’m fortunate to have traveled extensively.

Whenever I pause and think about my past, I realized I’ve lived three lives in one. Some people are lucky to spend their whole life in the village or town or country As an avid reader, I’ve read most American, French where they were born. They’re surrounded by relatives and Russian classics, modern literature and poetry. It and friends they’ve known since childhood, have deep may seem that my books are autobiographical, particularly THE WOODEN CHAIR, but that’s not so. I beroots. I believe they are very rich. My life has been made of a different cloth with hues of the rainbow. It’s lieve in writing about what I know, so my life has parallels in Leini’s story, but I guess you have to read the been about change and adaptation. book to find out more.

I was born in Helsinki, Finland. For various reasons I changed schools three times before Highschool. When My whole life I’ve longed for the sun and warmth.

When opportunity presented itself, I took up residence I was very small, my mother used to read to me. She in Florida. I live here with my partner, my best friend helped me put letters together to form words. As she was done reading “A Thouand husband. sand and One Nights” my pasThe award winning novel THE WOODEN CHAIR is sion was born. From then on, I read everything with the printmy second book. At present, I’m editing my third story. ed word: matchboxes, newspapers, pamphlet and books, Every book is a journey so enjoy the trip.

Book Description:

Relationships in the Cards As I work through telling a story, I often use Tarot cards to give my characters a bit more depth and dimension. The cards are rich storytellers, and if I let my imagination rove around the symbols a bit, I usually gather more information about any plot points or characters I'm stuck on.

Take Tara Sheridan and Harry Li in ROGUE ORACLE, who are federal investigators attempting to catch a killer who's selling nuclear secrets on the international black market. Tara is a criminal profiler who uses Tarot cards to solve crimes. Harry is her straight-laced partner, who had difficulty believing in all things woo-woo.

I first wrote about Tara and Harry in DARK ORACLE. They'd just met, and attraction overcame the obstacles of their very disparate means of working. They were good foils for each other: intuition and reason. But I can't just let them skate by in the second book without obstacles. Relationships in the real world have problems, and Tara and Harry are no exception.

To flesh out their challenges, I did a Tarot card reading for them. Here's how it worked...

the Queen of Swords, a woman of coldness and mourning. In Strength, I see that she's working on mastering her power as an oracle, symbolized by the lion. She will do so in a way that isn't harsh or brittle, but in a way that flows naturally to her. In Tara's dreams, she imagines herself as the woman in the card, walking through the desert with the lion (her intuition) at her side.

2. The second card I drew to represent Harry. I got the Knight of Pentacles, reversed. Harry was the Knight of Pentacles in DARK ORACLE - a reliable, methodical man who believes in what he can see and touch.

He was a good partner for Tara then, drawing her out of her sorrow and into the real world.

But here, he is reversed. When the Knight of Pentacles is reversed, this is a sign of overwork, of burn out, being a workaholic. Between the events of DARK ORACLE and ROGUE ORACLE, many months have passed, and Tara and Harry have been separated because of Harry's new assignments. He's starting to crack under the pressure of being an isolated federal agent in the Special 1. I drew a card to represent Tara in Projects Division, to the point of the story. I pulled Strength, which nearly beating a suspect to death. He's shows a serene woman closing the lost, and Tara has to rescue him from jaws of a lion. Tara has evolved since himself. the last story, where I figured her as

Tara sees him in her dreams, too, as a Knight sucked under in quicksand. She tries to save him in her dreams, but wonders if she will be able to in real life.

learn to work together and be lovers again.

The cards can be a big help in fleshing out characters and their relationships. One doesn't need to be a pro3. The third card I picked represents the relationship fessional Tarot reader to try...just grab a deck, a book between the two. I chose the Nine of Wands. The of meanings, and make up your own spreads. Choose Nine of Wands shows a wounded man leaning against a card that looks like your hero or heroine and your a staff, surrounded by a wall of staffs that cuts him off mind's eye, or pick one at random. Shuffle, and start from the rest of the world. The card traditionally sig- generating ideas. I find that the cards often lead me to nifies anticipation, estrangement, and delays. possibilities I hadn't considered in the story, helping me make connections that otherwise would have been Harry's withdrawn into himself. It will be up to Tara hidden to me. to reach through that history they have, through the cage of wands and heal him. Both Tara and Harry are guarded types, not given to spontaneous displays of emotion. One or both of them will need to swallow their pride to achieve a reconciliation, to

CHAPTER 1 Solstice What inspired you to become an author?

I’ve always loved stories that are engaging and exciting. I grew up in Philly and my grandfather would always bring us comic books from the recycling business, usually without the front cover and missing pages.

My brother and I just blew right through them. My protagonist actually made his first appearance in a comic book in 2001.

I’ve always loved to write, draw, and compose music. Watching people really enjoy an idea that you created and brought to life is incredibly rewarding.

to cast, though, because I couldn’t answer that.

Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life?

Funny enough, I almost always write people into my books. They don’t always hold key character slots, but most of the supporting characters evolved from someone I knew in real life. The list includes everyone from the lawyer vaporized in chapter one to a brother-in-law who lives almost three full books. The same holds true for Do you write in different genres? the villains, too. If a character suffers a particularly gruesome death, chances are Yes. I love sci-fi and detective stories, both he came from a real-life experience, too. of them mashing up in the Leon “Catwalk” Caliber series. My wife, Stacia D. Kelly, If this book is part of a series…what is the and I will be releasing an urban fantasy in next book? Any details you can share?

October, titled “Ichi”. It’s the first in a series of books featuring the Samurai sisThe next book is “Catwalk: Lineage” and it ters. Her heroine is a 1000 year old samuwas actually written before “Catwalk: rai who hunts demons. My counterpart is a Messiah.” It simply didn’t feel like an DC homicide cop who needs to see everyorigin story. Messiah came about as a need thing in black and white. That all changes for the character to be introduced to the when he starts seeing demons, too. world. As “Amazing Spider-Man” director Marc Webb points out, once you get the If yes which is your favorite genre to origin story out of the way, you can hit the write? gas pedal and expand the universe. Lineage certainly expands the Catwalk universe.

I love to travel, but sci-fi is home. I love to write with a very visual style, like every- What book are you reading now? thing I write is going to be a comic or a movie. That’s the goal. Don’t ask me who I just cracked the cover on “Harbinger” by

Philippa Ballantine. I love the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series she and Tee Morris write together (“Phoenix Rising”, “The Janus Affair”) and wanted to read more outside of the Steampunk genre. I recently finished J.T. Bock’s “A Surefire Way”, which is a great superhero/romance/ adventure, and Brian Pinkerton’s “Rough Cut”, which is a sort of crime mystery centered on the indie horror film industry.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

I followed some friends and decided to selfpublish. Any indie writer even remotely considering this should follow J.A. Konrath. His blog is the “Newbie’s Guide to Publishing” and it is an absolute bible for anyone looking to write, edit, promote, collaborate, promote, and succeed without one of the big publishing houses.

ommend her to anyone.

Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?

I’ve been a performing musician for over 20 years. I prefer to have music on when I write. Combat scenes with giant cyborgs really come to life when listening to industrial rock like Celldweller and Blue Stahli. I prefer instrumentals when writing emotional scenes – bands like VNV Nation or the unique Midnight Syndicate. Every book I write has its own playlist. The songs change with the genre of writing.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

Who designed the cover of your latest book? Look for “Ichi” as the first of the urban samurai sisters in October, with “Catwalk: Heidi Sutherlin, who completed fiction and Lineage” out next summer. I have a series of non-fiction covers for Stacia’s work, along zombie short stories in the works, and I’m with authors like Chip Deyerle, Rane always open to collaborate if the right opSjodin, and T.L. McCallan. Catwalk’s mask portunity arises. is so iconic to the character and she just nailed it in the first few drafts. I would rec“Catwalk” Sutherlin Caliber Series Amazon Book One Nick Kelly Book Description: Genre: SciFi

Nitro City, 2033.

Leon "Catwalk" Caliber left his cop job in ISBN: 978-0 DC behind, heading to the City of Angels to -9852837-5- earn a living off the grid. He took a few odd 9 jobs that called for his particular skill set – extortion, espionage, and the occasional hit Number of – and managed to carve out a niche for himpages: 249 self among the Downtown dwellers.

Word Count: All the changed when a new breed of Me70,266 taHuman cyborg appeared on the streets with explosive violence. Cat’s quiet existCover Art- ence is sent into turmoil when he finds himist: Heidi self right in the crosshairs. He must evade

the assassin squads sent by a vengeful pimp, uncover the origin of these mysterious new mechs, and keep the cops off of his tail. Simple enough, except that the cybernetic technology that powers his body threatens to sever his humanity at any moment. Can the killer with a conscience find a cure, solve the case, get the girl, and live to see another day?

Short Excerpt: “Okay, Sweetie, open your eyes.”

Leon “Catwalk” Caliber takes a long drag off of his cigarette. The voice on the vidscreen triggers the same sick taste in his throat as the first time he pressed the play button. The series of events on-screen remains the same: the awkward smile of the girl in the frame, the sweet and selfabsorbed tone with which the man just off -camera delivers his dialogue, the slight, excited shaking of the camera as she looks up at him. Once again he asks the young girl which hand holds the coin, even though only his left hand is extended.

She’s nervous. Her shoulders are pulled up, and her arms are tight to her body. She shifts to accommodate the tight fit of her school uniform. She blushes, the ghost of Shirley Temple, complete with pigtails and storybook innocence. She giggles and touches the back of the man’s gloved hand with a finger. She’s correct.

It’s the right hand that wields the bone saw.

Catwalk stops the recording. The glass next to him is empty, the bottle of bourbon almost the same. The dull glow of the paused recording is the only light in the loft, save a few blinking sensors from the bay that hosts his motorcycle and gear.

He stares mutely at the image on the screen. He already has the rest of it memorized. The girl survives for another two minutes and 17 seconds. She doesn’t suffer long. Thank whatever God she believes in that she doesn’t feel what happens next.

This killer doesn’t keep his victims alive along. He saves the mutilation and sex acts until after they’re dead. He doesn’t get off

on torture, just the rush of ending a life … even that of an eight-year-old girl.

Cat takes a hold of his whiskey tumbler, mindlessly raising it to his lips. The lack of liquid distracts him from the screen. The video was an unexpected test.

Someone hoping to remain anonymous had paid a deposit for his services. The instructions were simple. Watch the video. Find the killer. Get vengeance for the victims.

Get proof. Get paid.

His yellow eyes return to the screen.

His lips curl into a sneer. After watching the recording once, he was willing to do the job for free. That feeling amplified each time he watched the girl die. Cat chuckles out loud. He’s curious at his reaction. This chit never bothered him before.

Why now? Why her?

He stands and walks away from the screen. He needs a break. He stands and stretches. The muscles along his arms and sides are sore. His legs and spine don’t protest. They’re hard-wired into his nervous system. Thanks to modern cybernetic technology, he can leap from the sidewalk to the top of an apartment complex, and outrun most of the commercial vehicles on the market.

The benefits aren’t without a curse.

His immune system has never quite solved the riddle of his experimental cybernetics.

Treatment is painful and expensive. He could use the money this job would bring in.

Catwalk stands in front of one of the windows, listening to the endless clamor of sirens, screams and gunfire in the distance. He’s chosen a nasty part of Downtown. It’s dangerous, but it’s very private.

As a professional hitman, that’s worth the risk.

Running his hands through his jet black hair, he ties it into its customary ponytail. He looks over his shoulder at the custom-crafted, armored helmet resting on the counter. The triangular yellow cat’s eyes stare back at him. Cursing under his breath, Cat walks toward the helmet and the armored motorcycle behind it with cold intent.

There’s work to be done.

About the Author: Nick grew up on sci-fi, horror flicks, Dungeons and Dragons, good music, and recycled comic books. He has been published internationally as a comic book author and musician. He’s spent over half his life on stage from New York to Las Vegas. He is outspoken, supportive, and willing to take a good kick to the ribs for the right cause.

When not touring the world, Nick lives at home with his blushing bride (and coauthor), Dr. Stacia Kelly, their son, and a rotating roster of cats and dogs. www.nickkelly.com www.facebook.com/NickKellyAuthor twitter @Nick_Kelly Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BQD7J2W

Excerpt: …Loren double parked the electric car outside the restaurant and shadowed them inside, along with the redheaded guard. “Looks pretty good.” Loren eyed the private, sound-shielded room. “I’ll be right outside, and John will be here, too, just as soon as he takes care of the car.”

“Once reinforcements arrive, feel free to go hunt for your men,” Max said. “You must be worried about them.”

“Thanks, boss. I am. Go sit down. I’ll scare up a waiter to at least get you a bottle of wine or something. John’s going off-shift in an hour, so there will be two new guards outside when you’re done eating.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Max pulled the door shut and walked to the table. Audrey had already seated herself and was sorting through the stack of papers, arranging them into piles. “It’s all right if you don’t work for a few moments,” he said, taking a seat across from her.

“It’s better if I have something to, uh, take my mind off what happened. You asked if I’d gotten a chance to practice with the gun. The answer is yes. My brother sort of smuggled me into the cop shop gun range in the middle of the night a couple of times. But I’ve never been around anybody who was dead.” Her voice cracked. He saw her swallow hard. Max’s estimation of her edged up a few notches. Audrey was one tough cookie, even though she might not realize it. Most women would have dissolved into hysterics.

“You did fine. Good thinking to be in front of the elevator door with your gun.”

“Really?” She met his gaze with lovely ha-

zel eyes that were shading toward green at the moment and rested her chin on an upraised hand.

“I wasn’t certain what to do. I thought I should call the elevator back, but I didn’t want to subvert whatever you were doing. Then I wondered if I should take the stairs to a lower floor, but that wouldn’t have helped if you were still in the elevator… Ach.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind me.

I’m babbling.”

“You did fine,” he repeated just as the door opened, and a waiter swooped in with a silver bucket holding a wine bottle and two glasses.

“Good evening, sir and madam.” The waiter bowed slightly. He was in his fifties with a bald head and merry blue eyes. “The gentleman outside thought you could do with a spot of something relaxing. How does a cabernet strike you? If you’d rather have something different, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Max held out a hand for the bottle and inspected the label.

“What’s on the menu tonight?”

The waiter rattled off a series of dishes while he opened the wine. Max glanced at Audrey.

“What sounds good to you?”

She smiled warmly. “I’m used to whatever my ration coupons will buy. If it’s not too expensive, I’d love to have a steak.”

“How would madam like it cooked?” the waiter inquired, arching a brow. He poured a jot of wine into a glass and handed it to Max. “Rare.”

“Salad and rice or potatoes?”

“Salad and potatoes, please.”

“I’ll have the same,” Max cut in and took a sip of what was a very good wine. Rich and oaky,

it had an enticing bouquet. “The wine is perfect,” he told the waiter, who immediately poured some into a glass for Audrey and added more to Max’s.

“This is really quite wonderful,” Audrey said once the waiter left. “Everything. Not just the wine.

I can’t remember the last time I ate out at anything but one of those diners where I flash my wrist computer at the glass cases, and it debits credits from my account.”

“Enjoy it.” Max smiled. “You deserve to be pampered after what happened. I can still barely believe…” His voice trailed off. He needed to be careful not to say too much. “Um, what’s in those documents that’s so important?”

She leaned toward him. Her scent was even more intoxicating than the wine. He caught himself inhaling deeply and pulled away, aware of a pressure against his trousers where he was suddenly hard.

Audrey wriggled in her seat. She bit her lower lip and blew out a tense breath. Finally, she lowered her voice and murmured, “I probably shouldn’t do this, but I need to be honest with you.

It’s all in my employment records anyway, but since I was here long before you were governor, well, you may not have looked at them… Cripes!

I’m blathering like an idiot.”

“Whatever it is, just go ahead and tell me.”

Max felt oddly protective toward her, though he didn’t understand quite why. Worse, the moment his cock had gotten hard, his wolf had begun a steady patter of lewd side remarks that made Max want to throttle him.

“There’s no easy way to do this,” she went on, her knuckles so white against the wineglass, Max hoped it wouldn’t shatter from the pressure.

“If you decide I can’t work for you afterward, well…” she set down the stemware and spread her hands in front of her. “Not much I can do about it. I have shifter blood. Roughly 35 percent.

Some of my relatives have been killed in this purge, so I’m not the most ardent supporter of the governmental edicts to round up shifters and imprison them.”

She sucked in a ragged breath and raised her gaze so she looked right at him. A combination of defiance and pleading etched fine lines around her eyes.

“Miss Westen. Audrey. I’m not going to fire you. It’s all right. Thank you, for trusting me.”

Deep inside, Max felt the wolf push him to say more, to tell her about the serum. To offer it up,

for God’s sake. He resisted. “You told me that for a reason. I assume it’s related to the documents.

Could you walk me through what’s in them?”

She nodded. “Sure. It’s intel about something called the shifter underground.” Her eyes flashed. “Frankly, now that I know about them, I’m on their side, but don’t worry, I wouldn’t ever say that publicly.”

Max listened as she relayed the story he’d lived for the past couple of days. Everything was there, including the serum that pushed cops with a low percentage of shifter blood into full-blown shifters. Before the series of intravenous infusions that law enforcement had forced on their elite tracker task forces, a person needed 50 percent shifter blood to morph into their bond animal. After the infusions, 10 percent was sufficient. Max had gotten unutterably excited by the prospect of thousands of new shifters to swell their ranks and perhaps turn the tide of the war in their favor.

Another set of nationwide reports detailed those same cops betraying their oaths and going rogue. Predictions about anarchy ran wild. By the time Audrey was finished, Max was ecstatic, but he couldn’t let it show. Everything he’d assumed would happen was playing itself out like a welloiled machine. He couldn’t wait to let the underground know.

“Well?” Audrey raised her gaze from the stack of papers and gathered them together.

“Interesting material. I understand why it was classified top secret.” Max tried for a neutral expression. Just because she’d confided in him was no reason to let his guard down.

The door to their private dining room opened. The waiter pushed a cart laden with wonderful smelling dishes. Max’s mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was pushing nine at night. For the moment, his sexual hunger receded, and he tucked into a succulent, barely cooked piece of meat.

“Where do they get this?” she asked, cutting into her steak and chewing slowly. “None of the shops where I exchange my ration coupons ever have anything but ground or processed meat products.”

“There’s a black market,” he replied around a mouthful of salad.

Her brows drew together. “So it’s real,” she muttered. “I never paid much attention.” Her mouth curved into a smile. She set down her fork and knife. “It’s so good, I feel like I should save

what’s left and take it home. I’ve already eaten far more than I usually do.”

“I can ask the waiter to box it up for you.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She glanced at him shyly through long, dusky lashes.

“You’ve taken the worst day of my life and turned it into something special.”

He wanted to move to her side of the table and gather her into his arms. Not only was Audrey one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen, she was level-headed and seemingly oblivious to how gorgeous she was. Max put himself on a tight leash. He had bigger problems to attend to than his non-existent love life. At least so far, Audrey hadn’t asked about O’Hare’s accusations in the elevator. Christ! Maybe she thought he was tossing the shifter epithet at her.

Max nodded to himself. It made sense.

Likely, that was why she’d fessed up about her shifter blood.

“Penny for your thoughts, boss?” She focused her alluring hazel gaze on him. In the low light, her eyes held a violet cast.

“Nothing. Are you about ready to head home?”

She nodded. “I suppose we should. Tomorrow morning will come around early.”

He laughed. “Right you are, Miss Westen. It always does. It’s all right with me if you take a few hours off—” She waved him to silence. “Nothing happening at home. The neighborhood’s gone to hell.

I can’t even go out for a walk anymore. All I do is sit barricaded behind a bunch of deadbolts.”

Part of him wanted to bring her home with him, to his uptown mansion where she’d have gated grounds to roam. He cleared his throat before something untoward slipped out. “Let me find the Wolf Born

waiter.” He realized he was still hard and pulled his jacket around to shield the evidence as best he could.

As if the waiter had been waiting right outside and could read his mind, the door opened before Max had gotten up. “Would sir and madam like anything else? A touch of dessert perhaps?”

“You can box up the rest of the lady’s meal,” Max said. “You wouldn’t happen to have that delectable chocolate mousse?”

The waiter’s mouth formed an apologetic moue. “Not tonight, sir. We have lemon cheesecake, a cheese and fruit plate with brandy, or ice cream.”

“Does any of that sound good?” Max glanced at Audrey. Her eyes were wide with delight.

“Oooooh, it all sounds wonderful. I can’t even remember the last time I had real ice cream.

That frozen crap they sell nowadays doesn’t even have any dairy products in it.”

“Could you bring us a sampler plate with a little of everything?” Max asked.

“Of course. Coming right up.” The waiter snatched their plates and left.

“Not that I wouldn’t love something sweet,” she said a bit wistfully, “but I thought we’d decided it was late and—” Max kicked himself. They had decided that—sort of. He was enjoying himself, and he didn’t want the evening to end, but that wasn’t the sort of thing he could—or should—say to his secretary. He shrugged. “You seem to finally be relaxing. After what happened at the office, you deserve a little R and R. You really can come in an hour or two later tomorrow.”

Her gaze softened. “Thank you.”

ISBN: 978-1-62210-030-9

Underground Heat Book 2

Genre: Paranormal Romance

By Ann Gimpel

50,000 words

Publisher: Liquid Silver Books

In a futuristic world where shifters keep their friends close and their enemies closer, passion

flares hot and sweet.

Book Description:

number of webzines and anthologies. Several paranormal romance novellas are available in eformat. Three novels, Psyche’s Prophecy, Psyche’s Search, and Psyche's Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback. Look for three more urban fantasy novels coming this summer and fall: To Tame a Highland Dragon, Earth’s Requiem and Earth’s Blood.

In a futuristic California that’s almost out of resources, Max leads a double life. A Russian wolfshifter, he heads up the State of California as its governor—and the shifter underground. He took A husband, grown children, grandchildren and on the governorship to help his people. Threatthree wolf hybrids round out her family. ened with genocide, many shifters have gone into hiding. Some blame Max and the underground for their plight, rather than the governmental edict that’s meant death for so many. www.anngimpel.com

Audrey works for Max. Unlike most humans with low levels of shifter blood who bless their lucky stars they avoided the purge, she wants to be a shifter. If she could find a way to finesse it, she’d quit her job in a heartbeat and go to work helping the shifter underground. The only sticking point is Max. She’s been half in love with him forever.

http://anngimpel.blogspot.com

http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel

http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author

Against a dog-eat-dog political backdrop where no @AnnGimpel (for Twitter) one knows who their allies are, Max and Audrey spar with one another. Max fears she’s part of the group trying to kill him. Audrey has no idea about Max’s double identity and worries she won’t be able to walk away from their fiery attraction to help the underground.

After a second attempt on his life, Max faces critical choices. Should he follow his head or his heart?

About the Author

Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago.

Since then her short fiction has appeared in a

Southern Witch Series Release Schedule Would-Be Witch (new paperback & e-release): Sept 2013 Southern Witch Anecdote (free e-story): Sept 2013 Barely Bewitched (new paperback & e-release): Dec 2013 Halfway Hexed (new paperback & e-release): Mar 2014 Magical Misfire (electronic release): Apr 2014 Slightly Spellbound (paper and e-release): May 2014

Would-Be Witch Southern Witch Book 1 Kimberly Frost Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy Publisher: Berkley (Penguin) Date of Publication: Re-release September 3, 2013 ISBN-10: 0425267555 ISBN-13: 978-0425267554 Number of pages: 320 Amazon BN IndieBound

Back Cover Blurb: In the small town of Duvall, Texas, the only thing that causes more trouble than gossip is magic.

The family magic seems to have skipped over Tammy Jo Trask. All she gets in the way of the supernatural are a few untimely visits from the long-dead, smart-mouthed family ghost Edie. But when her locket—an heirloom that happens to hold Edie’s soul—is stolen in the midst of a town-wide crime spree, it’s time for Tammy to find her inner witch.

After a few bad experiences with her magic, Tammy turns to the only one who can help: the very rich and highly magical Bryn Lyons. He might have all the answers, but the locket isn’t the only thing passed down in Tammy’s family. She also inherited a warning…to stay away from anyone named Lyons…

About the Southern Witch Series: In this “coming of age in the world of magic” story, urban fantasy meets humorous mystery in small-town Texas. Plucky pastry chef Tammy Jo Trask comes into her spell-casting powers unexpectedly, and malfunctioning magic makes her a reluctant heroine. As her adventures continue, she learns the secrets of her supernatural heritage and embraces her butt-kicking destiny. Gorgeous love interests and an ocelot sidekick add to the charm of this bestselling book series.

About the Author: Kimberly Frost is the national bestselling author of the humorous Southern Witch series, which currently includes Would-Be Witch, Barely Bewitched, and Halfway Hexed. After her first release, Kimberly won the 2010 PEARL Award for best new paranormal author. Her second series featured darker paranormal romantic suspense stories.

These "Etherlin" books launched in November 2011 with the novella, “First Light". It appeared in the multi -author Christmas anthology, Tied With a Bow, reaching the extended New York Times Bestseller List. The subsequent Etherlin novels included All That Bleeds, a featured Barnes & Noble “Must Read Romance”, and All That Falls, a Colorado Romance Writers’ Award of Excellence finalist.

Learn more about Kimberly and her books at: http:// frostfiction.com/ https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKimberlyFrost https://twitter.com/FrostFiction https://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/1958136.Kimberly_Frost http://frostfiction.blogspot.com/

AUTHOR’S NOTE: "Magic Ingredient" is a short story/anecdote from Kimberly Frost's Southern Witch series. The story takes place seven years before the first novel, Would-Be Witch, begins. For information about other stories in the Southern Witch series, please visit: http://FrostFiction.com/

Magic Ingredient A Southern Witch interlude By: Kimberly Frost

The Cleary Hotel’s terrace pool had been

York, and New Orleans.”

closed at three in the morning when Bryn Lyons had

“No,” Bryn had said. “Not London. I plan to

drawn power from the Perseid meteor shower. The ill- remain in the States.” An ocean away from the World timed arrival of the custodian had forced Bryn to leave Association of Magic headquarters, he thought. He before he’d finished collecting the energy he’d sum-

had a score to settle and when he did, it would be safer

moned. The magic wouldn’t normally have been so

to be out of the Conclave’s easy reach. He hoped the

scattered, but he’d nearly depleted himself the night

power he’d sent through a transition mirror to his

before. Bryn rolled his shoulders and yanked off his

friend Andre had been enough to protect the under-

tie, restless after the long day.

ground network they’d resolved to join. Spending so

Residual magic coated the building like stardust, and he felt its pull. He’d been steady for all the

much supernatural energy would be worth it if it protected his friends.

morning interviews, but the three-martini lunch with

“We’ve heard about the New York offer,”

Sugg Reynor of Kulpacki, Dean & Reynor had left his Sugg said. “How’d you get a firm that big to chase control frayed. When the liquor had swirled in the

you with a number like that?”

glass like a whirlpool, he’d had to lean back and shove

How does he know how big the number is?

his hands in his pockets. Sugg Reynor had taken it as a Bryn wondered. “I interned there. They liked my sign of confidence and smiled a broad grin.

“We heard you’re considering London, New

work.”

“Hard for anyone fresh out of law school to

generate much. How are you going to earn that salary?”

“Hmm,” Sugg said, tossing back the last of his martini. “You told Kulpacki you want to come

“Hard work and quick wits?”

back to Texas. We’re the best fit for you in Dallas,

“Right,” Sugg said with a grin. “Did you put

and everyone knows it. But we were young hotshots

in long hours with June Bigelow? I hear she’s di-

once, too. We’d be a pack of fools not to find out

vorced again.”

what June Bigelow expects you to do for the salary

Bryn smiled. June Bigelow had been a con-

she’s offering.”

summate professional and a hell of a mentor until the day his internship ended. Then she’d propositioned

“She expects me to make her a lot of money right out of the gate.”

him seven times in seven days. He’d wanted to sleep

“How’s that?”

with her, but he hadn’t because at that time he’d

“I met Nina Pearce-Owens on an elevator and

been involved with Gwen. Also, he wasn’t a fool.

gave her June’s card.”

“Ms. Bigelow was a great mentor.”

“Did she teach you about some things other

“Nina Pearce-Owens. Who’s she married to?”

than the law? Rumor has it she’s worth the ride.”

“She’s married to billionaire Nigel Owens.

Bryn’s fork vibrated with angry magic. Easy, Not happily. He cheated on her with a trio of prostihe told himself. Sugg Reynor’s not a frat boy looking tutes. There is no pre-nup.” to swap stories. This is part of the interview, to see

“And she told June she wants the good-

how I handle myself when forced into an awkward

looking lawyer she met in the elevator to handle her

position.

case?”

“If June Bigelow wanted to hire a gigolo, I

“I wasn’t privy to the details of their conver-

imagine she’d pay him the going rate. Wasting mon- sation or even whether she called June. But when I ey is not her style. She prides herself on the fact that

told June I planned to move back to Texas, she of-

she’s been divorced three times without losing a

fered me the largest salary a new hire has ever been

cent.”

offered in the history of Warner Bigelow.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I wish I wanted to live in New York,” Bryn said, mock mournful.

Sugg threw back his head and laughed.

“You’re going to piss away the chance to get in on a multi-million-dollar divorce case with June Bigelow as lead? Now I’m wondering just what you expect

Lowell?”

“Met her on an elevator.”

He roared with laughter. “You ride a lot of elevators.”

“That’s because I never meet anyone interesting on the stairs.”

“So Cissy’s thinking of leaving old Royce?

from us? Because it won’t be the salary June’s offer-

He’s not gonna like that. You know you probably

ing. Nowhere close.”

shouldn’t have told me. What’s to keep us from reach-

“I’ve got ties to Duvall, Texas. This is where I ing out to her on our own? If you don’t bring her in, want to be,” he said. It would be crucial in the coming there’s no bonus.” months to be within driving distance of the Duvall tor.

“I’ll risk it,” Bryn said, risking nothing. Cissy

If Bryn needed power in a hurry, that was the best

Lowell wasn’t leaving her husband. Becca Charles

place from which to draw it.

though, who shared Cissy’s pedigree and former so-

“You don’t want to spend even another year on rority, was leaving her cocaine-addicted plastic surthe East Coast? You’d be in a better position to negotiate. A little seasoning would do you good.”

geon husband at the end of the week.

“We can swing a bonus. You come on board

“It would, but I’d rather get it here.”

and bring in the right client, and you can expect to

“Well, we’ve got an offer for you. High five

reap the rewards.”

figures and an office with a view.”

“With a bonus if I bring in a desirable client?”

Sugg’s brows went up, and his flushed cheeks grew ruddier. “A Texan? How desirable?”

“Thank you, sir,” Bryn said.

They’d shaken hands, and Bryn had politely declined the invitation to have another drink. He needed to gather the residual power he’d left on the roof,

“Someone like Cissy Lowell.”

and he couldn’t do that if he were passed out in his

He let out a low whistle. “Boy, you’ve been

hotel room.

living in New Haven. How’d you meet Cissy Stringer

***

from under her golden skin, but she also had curves.

Dressed in black trunks with a towel around his neck, he went to the terrace pool. A group of

Her face was lovely, too. Even from a distance, he could see the high cheekbones, the gold-

teenagers was in the deep end, splashing and playing. flecked hazel eyes, and the rose petal lips. That wasA flash of red hair caught his eye, the way it always

n’t the intriguing thing, though. The remarkable

did. He passed through fragile strands of magic that

thing about the teenage Trask was the way her head

lingered just inside the gate. He slowed his pace,

tilted as her gaze roamed over the terrace. The tip of

glancing down so he could say a few words to suck

her tongue parted her lips, like she could taste the

the power into him.

spray of Milky Way he’d drawn from the heavens.

The slip of a girl stood next to the pool, star-

A tall athletic boy thrust himself out of the

ing at the water’s surface. Her friends called to her to water and strode to her. “What’s up?” the boy asked jump in, but she remained motionless. He realized

her. Bryn recognized him, too. In a town where foot-

with a small jolt that he recognized her. She was

ball was king, the kid who was the high school’s star

Marlee Trask’s daughter. He hadn’t seen her in

running back was something of a rock star.

years. She’d been a funny-looking kid when in middle school and shy, looking at her shoes when he’d

Sutton, Bryn thought. That was his last name.

The oldest Sutton brother, George, ran the construc-

smiled at her on the street once. She’d had the flame- tion company they’d inherited from their father. The colored Trask hair, but he hadn’t sensed even a wisp family was solid and well liked. of their magic in her back then.

Her mother and aunt were beautiful with

The boy’s lips moved in a whisper. Bryn reached out with a spell to catch the words. He

bright green eyes and magic that floated by like

shouldn’t have wasted magic for that, but curiosity

feathers on wind. He’d felt sorry for the little girl,

got the best of him.

who’d obviously inherited her dad’s quirky looks

“Don’t you want to play?” Sutton asked her,

and lack of craft. But the duckling was all swan now. and Bryn realized they were waiting on her to play She was still thin, her shoulder blades poking out

volleyball. “Did getting pulled underwater earlier

spook you?”

Bryn waited. If he was her boyfriend, did he know she heralded from a family of witches? Bryn

Bryn stiffened, feeling like a splinter of ice had been driven under his skin. The reaction startled him.

Why do you care? he asked himself, but no answer

couldn’t help but envy their intimacy. She’d slept with revealed itself. this boy and had perhaps trusted him with her family’s secrets.

Clutching the little siren to him, Sutton sprung up and forward. For a split second the girl’s eyes

The girl shivered and turned her head toward the boy whose arms went around her. She didn’t ex-

found Bryn’s. For a suspended moment, she looked surprised, but then she blinked, and he spotted the re-

plain what she sensed or even hint at it. No, she hadn’t alization. told him. That pleased Bryn, though he couldn’t say

She knows.

why. Not that her reticence was surprising. The secrets

She’d felt the magic and hadn’t known where

of real power were closely guarded. He’d never told

it had come from until she’d seen him. The instant

his girlfriends who weren’t initiated in the craft what

they’d locked eyes there was a connection. Witch to

he was. But holding back the basic truth about himself wizard, to the very heart of what they both were. His made a real connection impossible. Only his relation-

hand nearly reached out of its own accord. He forced

ship with Gwen had gone deeper—until she’d shown

it to rest at his side.

where her true loyalty lay. Ambition before affection.

She was the Association’s witch. Not his.

“Yeah, hang on to me,” Sutton said, playing

The splash of their bodies hitting the water sent out waves that rolled over their friends’ heads.

While they were all distracted, he waited, reaching out

gallant, but also clearly glad for the chance to be skin- for her with only his mind. Her magic passed like flutto-skin with her. “I’ve got you.”

tering silk. He smelled heather, like he was home in

“I’m okay. It’s only—“

Ireland, and then other things, honeysuckle, citrus, va-

“What?” Sutton asked.

nilla. He drew it all into his lungs and hungered for

“Nothing,” she said with a smile. “Day-

more.

dreaming.” She ran a hand through the boy’s blond curls and smiled.

The kids spotted him, some waving in recognition. He’d lived in Connecticut for school, but he’d

visited Duvall a lot and was known there. They all

the time that bridged night and morning, he’d re-

looked over. Except her. Bryn held up a hand to

turned to the roof. With a powerful spell, he’d re-

greet them and waited for her head to turn, too. But

stored his magic to normal levels, and then, against

her face stayed stubbornly on Sutton. She kissed

his better judgment, he reached for traces of her.

him, clinging to the kid’s shoulders like she was at

His muscles tightened when he caught the

sea and he was a life raft. Bryn fixed his smile; it

scent of vanilla and citrus. Her magic fluttered

wouldn’t do to let it slip. Several kids followed his

against his skin, causing a slow burn.

gaze to the kissing couple. Bryn dragged his gaze away, staring instead at the dazzling Dallas skyline.

She was too young for him. Probably not

He pushed open the door to a stairwell, felt her more strongly and, heedless of risk, jogged down the stairs, flight after flight, until he panted for

even eighteen, and still in high school. He never dat- breath. He exited on the main floor, searching. Only ed girls younger than him. He’d barely dated girls his a lonely clerk manned the desk. He offered a brief own age.

nod and continued the hunt.

She’s not for you. At least not yet.

He stepped forward and dropped into the

Across the lobby, past the elevators, and around a corner. Closer. Stronger.

pool, glad to sink to the bottom. The shock of cool

He passed into a hall that was meant to be

water was what he’d needed. He swam, careful to

used only by hotel staff. There she was, dressed in a

avoid the kids. After fifteen laps, he walked to the

faded black t-shirt, cut-off shorts, and canvas tennis

shallow end, reached the steps and climbed out.

shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. With

Swimming always calmed him. A quick glance re-

no makeup, she looked impossibly young. How old

vealed that the kids, including the red-haired witch,

was she? Sixteen? Seventeen?

had gone.

“A fellow night owl,” he said.

Good, he’d thought. *** At nearly the witching hour of three a.m., in

Her head snapped up and wide hazel eyes met his. “Hi,” she said, in a voice as soft as moonlight.

“I know you, don’t I? You’re from Duvall?” he her own. He tried to bury the attraction he felt, anasked, his legs chewing up the distance until he was

noyed with himself.

only a couple feet from her.

“They’re upstairs. I ought to go,” she said ab-

She took a deep breath and blew it out. He tast- sently, her gaze darted to a nearby pair of doors. From ed a hint of raspberries in chocolate sauce. He was

the look of them, they’d swing open if pushed.

caught, spellbound.

“What’s in there? The kitchen?”

“Yes,” she said. “I live there.”

“Yep.”

“I’m Bryn.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, thinking he

Her eyes glanced away and then back to him.

wouldn’t mind something himself.

“I know who you are. Everybody does.”

“No, I just thought I might take a peek.”

“Is my reputation that bad?”

“At what?” he asked.

The corners of her mouth curved up, and she

“I wanted to see what kind of equipment they

shook her head. He had the unprecedented urge to cut

have in a kitchen like that.”

through the useless small talk and to tell her something real, to give up a secret so he could lure one

“Are you interested in hotels? In food service?”

from her. This odd child-woman had untrained and

“I’m interested in kitchens. The fancy kind.”

untested magic, but it raised gooseflesh on his arms.

“Why? Are you planning to be a chef?”

Why? And how?

She nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Well, let’s take a tour then.” He pressed the

“Tammy Jo Trask.”

door with his fingertips. It didn’t budge.

“What are you doing down here? Are your

With a few words and a thrust of magic, Bryn tripped

friends around?” Her friends could be in hell for all he the bolt. He gave one of the doors a shove and it cared. He wanted to be alone with her, to figure out

swung in obligingly.

how the unexpected connection had been forged. Be-

“That door was locked. I tried it!”

yond intellectual curiosity, he knew there was another,

“That can’t be the case since it’s open,” he said

more personal, reason he was pleased to find her on

with a smirk. They both knew how he’d unlocked the

doors, but it was okay if she wanted to pretend otherwise.

“Thanks for the help. I’ll go in alone,” she said.

“I guess what I’ve heard is true,” she said

Yes, let her go in alone. And while you’re at

with a small smirk that tied him in knots. “Most law- it, get a bloody grip. “What’s Tammy Jo short for?” yers are crooked.”

“Tamara Josephine,” she said, stepping a few

He laughed. “You’re not going to hold such a inches into the doorway. minor offense against me, are you? You said the

“I guess you and your friends are having a

word ‘kitchen’ the way a priest says ‘sanctuary.’ I

hotel party. How many kids do you have in the

assume you’re not planning to vandalize the place.”

room?”

“Well, I guess now you’d better hope not,”

“A fair few.”

she teased. She edged toward the door slowly, like

“Well if you need anything, I’m in 617.”

she didn’t completely trust him not to grab her. Cra-

“I don’t think we’ll get in enough trouble to

zily, his fingers itched to do just that. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Under no circumstances should you touch this girl. Even if she’s reached the age of consent by law, she’s still at least six or seven years younger than you. He thought about the way the Sutton kid had handled her. Bryn was sure she’d slept with him,

need a lawyer.”

“You never know,” he said with a smile.

“Good night,” he added, but he didn’t leave. For Christ’s sake!

Luckily, she did. “Good night,” she said with a wave, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

It took him a minute to exhale. And a couple

but even so, there was something innocent about her. more to muster the will power to walk away.

Also, since when did he make a play for a girl with a

***

boyfriend? He never had before.

Trying to resist touching her made it harder.

Tammy Jo couldn’t resist the industrial-sized

It was as though he were being bewitched. There’s

kitchen. Carefully noting where each thing belonged,

no way. Her magic’s not that strong.

she set to work making chocolate lava cupcakes.

She’d seen the recipe in a magazine in the bakery. The anyone in her life, but even if she hadn’t been in love new owner, Miss Cookie, had magazines stacked on a with Zach, she wouldn’t have had the nerve. Bryn was small table just inside the door for when the line got

smooth as polished silver and perfect as the icing on a

long around eight in the morning.

wedding cake. Whip smart and flawless. He made her

Miss Cookie had given Tammy Jo a part-time job helping mornings before school. She even let

uncomfortable.

Also, there was the family prophecy that made

Tammy Jo make a couple of special pastries Tammy

him off limits. She glanced around the empty kitchen

Jo had invented. When Tammy’s creations had sold

as if her mom or Aunt Edie might pop up to scold her

out, Cookie put them on the regular menu on the

for talking to him.

blackboard above the counter. Tammy Jo hadn’t said anything, but inside she’d been proud.

Now she rummaged through the stocks and

Actually, she thought defiantly, it’s not my fault that I had to talk to him. I did my part to stay away. I pretended not to notice him at the pool, as if it

arranged the ingredients by memory and instinct. She

that was even possible. And I convinced everybody to

hummed and worked, keeping careful watch of the

leave before he finished swimming. It’s not my fault I

time. She bet the staff would get to the kitchen around ran into him in the hallway at two-thirty in the mornfour or five a.m. to start the breakfast orders. She’d

ing. That’s either fate’s fault or plain bad luck. How

best be gone before that if she didn’t want to get

was I supposed to know he’s an insomniac wizard?

caught.

Nobody tells me anything about him. If Momma and She set the ovens and mixed the batter. When

the cakes were inside, she cleaned all the pans she’d used, dried them, and put them away. She looked

Aunt Mel knew that, they should’ve warned me.

Of course, if they were here they’d probably claim I could’ve walked the other way, but that

down in the bowl of chocolate ganache frosting. It was would’ve been really rude. There was no way to prealmost as dark as Bryn Lyons’s hair. Heat crept up her tend I didn’t see him when he was standing right next throat to her cheeks. He’d been a good-looking teen-

to me. And how bad can he be? He was sweet enough

ager, but now he was so handsome he could’ve been a to break and enter me into this kitchen. Not fraternizmovie star. She’d never been so tempted to flirt with

ing after he did me an illegal favor would’ve been bad

manners, right? Right.

steel counter and shuddered.

Besides, it wasn’t like he’d tried anything

Okay, Tammy Jo, that’s enough. Yep, he’s

funny. From all the warnings, she half expected him

cute and sexy, but he’s trouble and he’s all wrong

to attempt to lure her Big-Bad-Wolf-style up to his

for you anyway.

hotel room. She swallowed hard. All right, he had

Think about Zach. Remember him?

mentioned his room number, but probably not with

Her heart gave a little squeeze at the thought

any plans to turn her into a human sacrifice in a

of how sweet Zach had been all weekend. Teasing

black magic ritual or anything. She was pretty sure

and flirtatious, he’d invited her along to everything

about that.

the guys planned to do. And he’d broken off from

She bit her lip. Though if anybody was built for luring a girl someplace to do black magic it was that guy. She bet most girls would follow him to hell

the protesting group to take her to a famous fudge shop.

“Gotta earn me some sugar by getting you

and back. It was pretty impressive that all she’d done some,” he’d joked. was talk to him.

She’d kissed him, of course, and leaned

Yeah, good job, Tammy Jo.

against him when he put his arm on the back of her

She rubbed her arms, recalling the way her

chair at the table outside the shop. She and Zach fit

skin had tingled. Had it been magic? She’d never

together like the pieces of a spring-form pan, snap-

been able to feel magic, but there’d been something

ping into place, a perfect match. Zach wasn’t a dark

special surrounding him, something silky and deli-

mystery to be unraveled. She trusted him more than

cious rising like steam from the pool. And again in

anyone. Always had.

the hall, she’d felt it, as enticing as the flavor of sun-

When the cupcakes cooled, she iced them and

warmed strawberries bursting on her tongue or the

put a single raspberry on top of each one. She put

smell of melting chocolate. The tension had made

half the cupcakes on a dish and poked toothpicks in-

her want to yell at him. Or to grab him and kiss him

to four of them so plastic wrap wouldn’t stick to their

six ways from Sunday. She gripped the stainless

frosting when she covered them.

She wrote a note: Your kitchen is awesome.

Thank you!

She guessed she’d used about twenty-dollarsworth of ingredients so she left thirty smoothed out

knock more than once, she told herself. Her heart thumped anxiously.

He’s asleep. Lucky for you!

As she stepped back however, the door

next to the plate. She bet no teenager had ever broken

opened. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that advertised

into a hotel kitchen before just to bake. She pictured

Guinness. She couldn’t picture him drinking beer in a

the head chef’s face when he found the cupcakes, sur- college bar with a rowdy crowd. In her head, someprised that someone had come in the dead of night to

thing set him apart. He was magical and mythic. At

make a treat for him. She was like an East Texas teen

the end of the night she half expected him to disappear

version of Santa Claus. Kind of. She had been inside

like a unicorn. It was a crazy idea, but he hardly

without permission. She hoped it wouldn’t cause too

seemed real. Just a name long whispered in her house.

much trouble. Maybe she shouldn’t leave evidence

Forbidden.

behind.

“Hello again,” he said, stepping back so she She cleaned every surface she’d used. When

she was satisfied she’d left it spotless, she took a box and filled it with the extra cupcakes, counting to be sure she had enough for everyone in the hotel room.

Plus one.

Bryn Lyons was probably asleep, which was

could enter.

That’s as bad an idea as trying to hogtie a bull. Don’t you dare do it!

She didn’t even look past him. She wasn’t going into a hotel room with a Lyons, no matter how curious she was. Curiosity killed the cat. And a whole lot

just as well, but she couldn’t resist one last quick look of dumb schoolgirls who fraternized with strangers if he wasn’t.

their mommas warned them about. What’s next?

She rode the elevator up and shuffled down the Hitchhiking in a mini skirt? empty hall. It was nearly four in the morning. She yawned, but resisted the urge to rub her eyes with her free hand.

She knocked gently and waited. She wouldn’t

“I brought you this.” She lifted a cupcake from the box and held it out.

“Still warm,” he said, taking a bite. He had even white teeth and left a bite mark. Just like the Big

Bad Wolf would’ve. He swallowed, and his smile

nary institute and several five-star restaurants. If you

made her breath catch.

want I could—”

“Now that’s the way dessert should taste.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a step back. “But

“It’s a chocolate lava cupcake. It’s got a cen- it’s really late. I have to go. My friends might be ter that’s kind of fudge-y. It might seem like it’s not

looking for me.” She whirled and started blindly to-

fully cooked, but that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” ward the elevators.

“Come in,” he said.

She took a step forward, like an invisible

Over her shoulder, she heard him whisper, “Good night, Tamara.”

rope pulled her, but stopped. Barely.

***

“No,” she said. “I just wanted to say thanks for breaking me into that kitchen.”

“Did you vandalize it beyond repair? Should I expect a visit from hotel security?”

The room was stuffy, the air thick with the smell of seven teenagers, drying swimsuits, leftover pizza and the last drops of beer in dozens of cans.

She wanted to escape back to the sixth floor, or at

“It would probably serve you right for break- least to the hall, but she padded silently into the ing the law after you just left its school.” She grinned. “But nope. We’re in the clear.”

He stared at her, and the air thinned, making her dizzy.

“Well,” he said softly. “It would’ve been

room.

She cleared a place for the cupcakes that they’d eat for breakfast. She strained her eyes and stepped over a pile of clothes to where Zach had put their sleeping bag near the air conditioning vent. She

worth it.” After a pause he held up the cupcake as if

found her oversized T-shirt nightgown that she’d left

that was what made the risk okay, but he never took

folded on the bottom of the bag and changed.

his eyes from her face.

“I’ve been offered a job here,” he said.

“Congratulations.”

Zach woke when she unzipped the sleeping bag and climbed in.

“There you are,” he said. “Where you been,

“Do you ever come to Dallas? There’s a culi- darlin’?”

“I sneaked into the hotel kitchen and made

sounded loud in her ear. She hoped Smitty’s snoring

chocolate lava cupcakes. They’ve got a gooey center

drowned them out. The thing about Zach was…he

that’s delicious.”

could do things that made her not care about anything

“Sweet and soft. Just like a girl I know,” Zach said, pulling her against him.

besides the way his body felt. Strong muscles, smooth skin, getting closer than anyone else ever had.

He smelled good, like the hotel’s mandarin

Later when they’d caught their breath, he held

orange soap and his own clean skin. She pressed her

her against him and whispered, “You were right.

nose to his neck.

Michelle was pissed when we convinced Todd to

“I was just dreaming about you,” he said in a

come go-kart racing tomorrow. She kept bringing up

low voice, husky with sleep and more. He slid his

the mall and how he’d promised to take her. Georgia

hand down. She caught his wrist.

Sue said you guys would go.”

“Told you,” she said, trying to keep him from pulling free. “We can’t fool around in a room full of

“Georgia Sue likes to keep the peace,” Tammy Jo said with a grimace. Tammy was sick of Michelle

people. You said you wouldn’t mind all of us sleeping Halpern. Ever since the girl had visited her snotty in one room, but I bet you do now.”

cousin who’d been a deb at a fancy ball, all Michelle

“I bet I don’t mind a bit,” he said, dragging her talked about was how much things cost. Tammy Jo hand southward. The wicked grin in his voice and the

had rolled her eyes at Georgia Sue when Michelle

wicked intent of his fingers made her toes curl, but she gave them a lecture about how they weren’t farm girls grabbed a handful of his curls and pulled his head

and ought to throw away all their cowboy boots.

closer to hers.

“Cut that out, Zach,” she whispered into his ear. “Someone will hear.”

“Shh,” he murmured, and things quickly spun out of control. “We won’t make a sound,” he promised.

“I told ‘em you were coming with us. You’d rather race carts than go look at designer clothes, right?”

“Yep.” “Smitty said you girls were all too pretty already. ‘Gets so we can’t cross the street without y’all

They were very quiet, although his breath

stopping traffic. Let’s not throw designer clothes into

the mix.’”

she’d like living with Zach better. Her own kitchen.

Tammy Jo chuckled. “That was sweet of him. Their own bedroom.

Knowing how she’s glued to the mirror, that must’ve made Michelle happy.”

“That girl’s never happy except when Todd’s spending money on her.”

“If I make it to the NFL, I’ll buy you the biggest house in Duvall,” he said.

“You better not! People might expect me to join the Junior League or something,” she said with a

“I know.”

cluck of her tongue. She’d said it as a joke, but she

“She saw that Lyons guy at the pool today,

meant it, too. She wouldn’t be comfortable with gobs

and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

of money, stuck with folks who looked down their

Word has it the guy’s loaded. He invested in some

noses at other people. “I just want a regular house.

companies that made millions or somethin’. Michelle Maybe one that backs up onto the woods. I like seewanted to try to find out what room he was in to ‘say in’ the trees. And if we want to use this sleeping bag hello’. She’s looking to trade up, more like.”

sometime for sentimental reasons, it’ll be a short

“I bumped into him downstairs. He’s here for walk into the wood.” a job interview.”

Zach’s laughter ruffled her hair. “That’s my

“Bet he’s got a big room.”

girl. Now what about that February fishing trip? I

“I’d imagine so,” she said, glad she hadn’t

really wanna go. GW says you’re invited if you want

gone in when she’d dropped off the cupcake.

to come. You and I can celebrate Valentine’s Day on

“It won’t always be like this,” Zach said. “Us the boat.” sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag. Or fooling

“Surrounded by buckets of fish guts? How in

around in the back of my truck on an old quilt. I’ll

the world can a girl stand so much romance at one

buy you a house as soon as we’re married. GW, TJ

time?” She rolled her eyes at Zach’s grin. “You tell

and I can build it to keep the cost down, so I can af-

GW I said thanks for the kind offer, but no thanks

ford it straightaway.”

just the same.”

Tammy Jo didn’t mind living at home, but

“Damn. You were almost the perfect wom-

an.”

and her head rested on his arm.

“You know, Miss Dabby fishes off the dock

every day. You could take up with her and have it

“If you really don’t want me to go on that fishing trip, I’ll stay home,” he said.

made.”

“That’s months away. We’ll worry about it “Yeah, I been tempted. She looks awful good

in that thirty-year-old fishing cap with the rusted lures on it. If I treat her right, she might even let me wear it sometimes.”

Tammy Jo smothered a giggle. “Now I know

later.”

“Yeah,” he said sleepily. “But it’s a charter, so they need to know whether to sign me up.”

“Well, go. We can celebrate Valentine’s another night.”

what to get you for Valentine’s Day. Think she’d sell

“You sure?”

it for ten dollars?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’ll make you happy.”

“Nice hat like that? All broken in. At least twenty.”

Tammy Jo’s laughter caused bodies to stir, and she clamped a hand over her mouth guiltily.

“Hell,” he said softly after a pause. “I just might be him.”

“Who?” she asked.

“The luckiest guy in the world.”

Georgia Sue sat bolt upright on the bed.

“Kenny, don’t let that child invade Mexico.” Then she For more freebies and extras visit Kimberly’s website fell back with a thump.

“What the hell?” Zach said, and they both had to muffle their laughter. Kenny was sound asleep and facing away from Georgia Sue. Tammy Jo’s shoulders shook, and Zach squeezed her against his chest, shushing her between his own chuckles. Finally, they got a hold of themselves and settled down.

She curled so her back was against his chest

where you can download the Would –Be Witch Reader Guide and The Southern Witch Series Extra Tammy’s First Kiss

Coming Spring 2014

Do you have a specific writing style?

I don’t think I have any one style. It tends to vary from book to book. However, I think the only consistencies are that I tend to love building tension and including lots of humor. s

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Yes. Take risks! Choosing to love someone (or ones) is one of the most frightening, vulnerable and courageous things a person can do. So I love writing Romance because I get to write not just about people finding love and embracing it, How did you come up with the title for but also writing about the internal struggle your latest book? characters have to go through to take that leap.

Persuasion Skills is actually the second book in So I hope that readers walk away with that want a series, titled Boardroom Acts. The first book to take a risk. Take that belly dancing glass, say is titled Negotiating Skills. I didn’t intend for hello to that hot guy at the grocery store, plan both books to share the word “skills”. The orig- that trip to Vegas you’ve always wanted. Grab inal title for Persuasion Skills was actually your hug inner child, embrace your wise man High Stakes but half way through writing the and ROCK OUT! book I realized that my hero Jax, was exhibiting some serious feats of persuasion…and schemIs the book, characters, or any scenes ing! So I scrapped High Stakes and titled it Perbased on a true life experience, somesuasion Skills. one you know, or events in your own life?

Do you title the book first or wait until afMy husband is a software developer, and I ter it’s complete? worked in a labs for several years, so I did draw I tend to title my books first, but as I mentioned a few things, from past experiences and relabefore, eventually the characters and story tionships. I admit that even though I don’t insometimes force a change. I never really know tend to, a little bit of my husband inevitable if my working title will make it from beginning ends up becoming a part of my heroes’ characto end and I’m okay with that. It just means that ters. A lot of times I won’t even notice, then my I let the characters and story unfold the way it husband will read a scene, and jokingly say “I was meant to be. forget how awesome I am until you write it

down.” I’ll read the page he references and have a light bulb moment. So ridiculous.

walking cliché of being a lady at the dinner table and an… adventurous woman in the bedroom. I’m a very private person, so when I first started writing romance I was more than a little If this book is part of a series…what is surprised that I leaned towards writing more on the next book? Any details you can the erotic side. My cheeks still definitely heat share? when I write certain scenes, but I like to keep Hmmm…So remember how I mentioned I did- things authentic, so I refuse to make any of my n’t intend to the word “skills” for all of the love scenes “closed”.

Boardroom Acts books? Well I really did try hard with the next book. The original title was When you’re not writing what do you Hostile Takeover but…again my hero surprised do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty me with well his skills. So by the time I typed pleasures? the end it was re-titled Acquisition Skills. Blar!

I really did try! Anyway, Acquisition Skills is I just recently purchased my first home and am the story of what happens when a somewhat clueless video game developer meets and up- obsessed with all things decorating and DIY. I tight financier. My heroine is intent on devel- have the Houzz app on my phone, and I stalk several decorating bloggers daily. I started off oping the ultimate gaming experience, but when her financial backer heads off on a hon- as a small interest, but after a marathon weekeymoon and leaves his brother behind to man- end of watching HGTV, I was convinced I could tackle anything…which I can’t lol. But age the silent partnership sparks fly.

I’ve definitely tried! It’s been fun. There have What would your readers be surprised to been times when I’ll have an idea and the next thing I know I’m at Home Depot with a cart learn about you? full of paint or other materials. Six hours (or I can be a bit of a prude. I admit that I am the six days) later I’ll have new molding up and a different wall color. It’s a sickness!

Persuasion Skills Boardroom Acts Book One Laurel Cremant

Word Count: 31, 000 Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Amazon US Amazon UK Genre: Contempo- All Romance Bookstrand rary Erotic Romance Evernight Publisher: Evernight Publishing ISBN: 978-177130-473-3 Number of pages: 107

Book Description: In the aftermath of a major health scare, Pepper Holts makes the relief-inspired decision to seize the day. Unfortunately, most of her “seizing” involves a bit of mer-

lot and her best friend's pants! After a shared night of passion she realizes that her feelings for Jax are a lot more complicated than she ever thought.

Jax has finally realized that his allergy to marriage has nothing to do with the institution itself, and everything to do with the women in his bed—or more specifically, the one woman not in his bed. Her reaction to their one night together has him scrambling to regroup. So he does what he knows best—he disappears, and he thinks. The plan?—convince Pepper into staying with him at a secluded cabin for one week. One week of pretending to be a happily married couple to show her how great they could be together.

EXCERPT The smooth humming of an engine finally wove its

He swung the axe one last time and planted the blade

way up the road as he continued to chop.

firmly in the chopping block before walking leisurely

He glanced up from his task in time to see a slate grey

to the top of the drive and waiting.

SUV make its way up the gravel path that passed as

It wasn’t hard to keep the smile on his face as his gaze

the driveway to his cabin. Within a few seconds, he

caught hers and held. He could practically feel the

could see Pepper’s face peering at him through the

waves of rage rolling off of her as she pulled the car to

front window.

an abrupt stop only inches from where he stood.

The usual sense of peace that her presence always

He merely winked at her and gave a cheerful wave.

gave him rushed through, right before his skin tight-

God, he loved hunting rabbits.

ened in a zing of awareness. Seeing her never failed to jumpstart his senses. Her features had changed very little since college, but she’d grown her afro out to a long mass of curls that stretched past her shoulders.

She stared at him for a searing moment before climbing out of the tall vehicle and dragging out a mediumsized piece of luggage. She snapped up its telescoping handle and marched the few steps it took to stand in front of him.

At that moment, the mouth he’d secretly lusted after

He let his gaze wander over her frame, taking in the

for years was set in a firm line, and a blaze of anger

rapid rise and fall of her chest, the tight grip she had

shone in her steady gaze. Neither warning sign pre-

on the luggage handle, and the clenching and un-

vented a smile from spreading across his face as the

clenching of her free hand. Yet the only thing that

car drew near.

caused his smile to dim was the hurt mingled with the

She wore a white snow cap with earflaps, her curls

outrage on her lovely face.

spilling around her shoulders, and what looked like a

He let his gaze drift back to her clenching fist for a

heavy white winter coat. She looked like a ferocious

moment before looking at her face again. Staring into

bunny.

her eyes, he let loose a loud sigh as he widened his

If looks could kill. He chuckled softly.

stance and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.This is going to hurt.

“Go ahead. Do it. You know you want to.”

He let the taunt hang in the air, waiting for her to speak, react, do anything.

“Feel better now?” he called out to her retreating back.

Her answering response was a decisively unladylike

She stared at him for a few seconds before her eyes

hand gesture over her shoulder before she entered the

swelled with unshed tears.

cabin and slammed the door behind her.

The sight caused a small ache in his chest. Nothing ev- He rubbed his jaw for a few seconds before turning and er hurt as much as seeing Pepper cry.

The thought barely registered in his mind before she

walking to the car door. Peering inside, he glimpsed the keys still dangling from the ignition.

pulled back her clenched fist and slammed it squarely

Reaching inside, he pocketed the keys before popping

on his jaw.

the hood of the SUV open.

His head jerked to the side with a snap.

“Well, let the games begin,” he muttered to himself as

“Fuck!”

He let loose a few more choice expletives. Trust Pepper to have a killer right hook.

The stars in his eyes cleared just in time for him to

he walked to the front of the car and reached under the hood.

He barely winced in pain as a smile spread across his face while he reached into the belly of the car and yanked out a bundle of wires.

watch her turn and stomp toward the porch steps and up to the front door of the cabin.

About the Author: Laurel is a romance author, who like most writers loves to read. Her first love (pun intended) has always been romance. From the sappy YA romance novel to the more risqué erotica novels, Laurel is a sucker for a good love story.

Laurel writes paranormal and contemporary romance and is a self proclaimed, out of the closet nerd. She admits that she can't seem to avoid adding a bit of "nerdology" or "geek-dom" to all of her books. Living in Miami, she also admits that she can't seem to avoid giving her heroines gorgeous shoes, "In Miami, we worship everything strappy, open toed and just plain hot!"

Website: www.LaurelCremant.com Blog: www.laurelcremant.blogspot.com Twitter: www.twitter.com/LaurelCremant Facebook: www.facebook.com/LaurelCremantAuthor

Excerpt The line crept forward and when she reached the front door, the bouncer waved her through without checking her ID. Veronica walked through the curtains and into the stodgy air and interior of Dark Sepulcher.

She pushed her way through crowds of contorting dancing bodies, trying to create distance between herself and the Deamhan twins. Music thumped throughout her body.

“You’re back,” a familiar voice said from behind Veronica.

She turned to find the waitress who’d served her the night before.

“You ran out in a hurry the other night,” the waitress stated as she placed a napkin on a nearby table.

“Oh yeah, I-I lost track of time. Sorry about that.” Veronica had no idea why she apologized. She looked over her shoulder. Realizing the twins weren’t following her, she caught her breath and relaxed.

“Wow, you look like you just saw a ghost,” the waitress said.

“I’m fine.” Veronica slicked back her hair.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, nothing right now. Thanks.”

“You look like you need a drink.” The waitress ignored Veronica’s answer. “I’ll tell you what. We have a new drink. It’s on the house.” The waitress playfully slapped Veronica on her wrist. “It’s called Sensual Appetite, and it’s delish!” She patted a chair next to the table. “Sit and relax.” She leaned toward Veronica and whispered, “My name is Chelsea. If you need anything else, just holler.”

Before Veronica could refuse, the waitress

pushed through the crowd and disappeared. A fresh burst of fog spewed from a machine above, engulfing the dance floor. The gyrating crowd cheered in approval.

Veronica’s eyes moved to the back at a small room nestled in the corner directly above the dance floor. A rowdy cheer to her left caught her attention. A group of scantily dressed men and women hovered around a circular table. The light flickered above them.

Veronica recognized Alexis; her arms draped around the neck of a man sporting a business suit and red tie.

He sipped from a chalice and pointed to the crowd on the dance floor.

Chelsea returned and placed a clear plastic cup on the table in front of Veronica. The dark red drink had no ice, but a hint of blue had settled at the bottom of the cup. “Here you go,” she said, tucking the tray underneath her arm.

“I’m not thirsty.” Veronica pushed the cup away.

Immediately Chelsea latched onto her wrist and pulled Veronica’s hand toward the cup. “Nonsense.”

Chelsea’s eyes narrowed in on Veronica. Her eyes turned black and her mouth opened slightly, revealing her fangs. “Now drink up, researcher. Don’t let a good drink go to waste.”

Veronica looked to her left then to her right.

The club music seemed low-set as all eyes in the vicinity were on her, including Alexis’. Chelsea released her grip and waited for Veronica to drink.

Veronica grasped the cup, lifting it to her lips.

She closed her eyes, paused, and then tipped the cup.

When the liquid touched her lips, she opened her eyes.

The Deamhan now encircled her, standing close enough that Veronica felt Chelsea’s breasts pushed against her forearm.

“Drink,” Chelsea whispered, “or I’ll drink you.”

Veronica took a long, deep swallow; thick liquid slid down her throat. The wretched taste of iron and blood made her choke, and she dropped the cup onto the floor, gagging. The Deamhan laughed.

Veronica shoved a napkin to her mouth as the liquid circled in her stomach. Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth frothed. She rushed to the bathroom, elbowing her way through the crowd. Her stomach gurgled and heaved. A sudden gust of air pushed her forward, and cold hands grasped her arms and yanked her into the bathroom.

“Please struggle.” The voice of the taller twin tickled Veronica’s ear.

“Yes, please.” The voice of the shorter twin tickled Veronica’s other ear.

With the bathroom door slammed shut behind them, the twins pushed Veronica to the cold, dirty floor. She winced as her ribs smacked the tile; pain shot through her stomach and into her back. She stole a glance under the stalls before she raised her head.

They were alone. Bare fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead, giving the room an ominous glow.

The taller twin gripped Veronica’s arms in her powerful grasp. She easily lifted Veronica to her feet and violently slammed her against the bathroom wall.

Breathless, Veronica made a dash for the door, but was shoved back. The taller twin wrapped her fingers around Veronica’s neck. Veronica clawed, trying to break free, but the Deamhan was too strong.

Veronica stared into the twin’s dark, menacing eyes. Her vision twisted in and out. The bathroom floor rippled as if water suddenly covered the floor.

Veronica’s head swooned and fear dissipated. The drink flowed through her veins, intoxicating her.

It was a high she hadn’t felt since she smoked weed for the first time in her teenage years. A sense of invincibility and relaxation overtook her. She tried envisioning a brick wall in preparation for the Deamhan twins to invade her thoughts, but the tingling sensation never came. Instead she drifted into the furthest part of her mind where she kept sacred memories of her mother carefully hidden from human and Deamhan alike.

“I told you, sister.” The tall twin licked her lips. “She’s ripe.” The Deamhan twins knowingly

locked eyes and giggled.

With a handful of Veronica’s hair in her grasp, the taller twin pulled, yanking Veronica’s head violently to the side. She opened her mouth and her canines protruded from her pale gums. “Her scent is strong, Brandy. And her skin,” she said, sniffing Veronica’s neck, “is so soft.” She stuck out her tongue and licked Veronica’s neck from her ear to her collarbone.

Veronica shivered from the trail of wet spittle left on her skin.

“What to do with her.” The tall twin increased her grip around Veronica’s throat. “She doesn’t have the markings of a minion.”

Brandy stepped away from the door. “But, Branda, I heard she is protected.” Her mouth opened, exposing sharper and longer fangs than her sister’s.

“What Deamhan would be stupid enough to give a researcher protection?” Branda scoffed.

“Especially one as stupid as her.”

Protected? Veronica struggled to keep her eyes opened. Darkness toyed at her periphery, and she thought she might faint from lack of oxygen.

“I want her first, sister.” Brandy’s eyes widened. “Oh, can I? Can I please have first bite?”

“Sure.” Branda slowly released her grip.

Veronica gasped, her lungs searing as they engulfed fresh air.

“But don’t get greedy.”

Brandy replaced her sister’s stance and shoved Veronica back against the wall. She sniffed the side of Veronica’s face and chortled as Veronica struggled against her. “I like it when they fight.”

Brandy closed her eyes and swayed her head back and forth as she spoke in a singsong voice. “Like a fly, caught in a spider web, about to meet its maker.”

“Protected.” Branda huffed, her nostrils flaring. “What a crock of shit.”

A strong wind manifested, and Brandy instantly released her grip. Her head jerked to the bathroom door as it flew open on its own.

Veronica’s legs crumbled. She fell to the floor gasping for air. She looked up in time to see a fuzzy image of the Deamhan twins running out of the bathroom with Deamhan speed and the door slamming shut behind them.

Whatever scared them away had impeccable timing.

Deamhan Deamhan Chronicles Book One Isaiyan Morrison Genre: Adult, paranormal Publisher: Rainstorm Press ISBN: 1937758400 ISBN-13: 9781937758400 Number of pages: 218 Word Count: 85,000 words Formats available: Print. E-book

About the Author: An avid gamer, writer, and lover of history, Isaiyan Morrison was born and raised in Minnesota. She moved to San Diego, California while in the Navy. After serving four years of active duty, she moved to Los Angeles.

After a few years, she moved back to Minnesota where she started to pursue her dream to be an author.

Besides writing, she also likes to read, surf the internet, watch movies, and play video games. She likes warm drinks, pico de gallo, and her love for cilantro is legendary.

At one point she was sponsored to participate in video game tournaments. During that time she traveled to Canada, Nevada, New York, Pennsylvania, Florida, Iowa, Oklahoma, and Caribbean.

Her novel Deamhan, the first book in the Deamhan series, was accepted for publication by Rainstorm Press for release in mid 2013. She’s currently in talks to have the second book Sensual Appetite published by the same company.

Other novels the author has completed are The Carriers (Sphere Episode One,) The Bond (Sphere, Episode Two,) and Old Farmer’s Road to name a few.

She’s currently writing the third Deamhan book titled, Revelation, and Maris. The Brotherhood Files.

Cover Artist: John Cosentino Book Description: Her soft golden skin, her warm smile…these are the only images Veronica Austin has left of her mother who disappeared without a trace twenty years ago on the streets of Minneapolis while researching the Ramanga, the Lamia, the Metusba, and the Lugat. Known only as the Deamhan, they are a different breed from the modern bloodsucking vampire.

A stranger to this world, Veronica’s search for the truth about her mother’s unexplained disappearance takes her into their sinister and precarious world. She gains the trust of the only other human familiar with the Deamhan lifestyle.

With his help she finds not only can the Deamhan not be trusted but it’s her own father, president of a ruthful organization of researchers, who has diabolically maintained that distrust.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/JvXvINwJpH0 Amazon

Website: http://isaiyanmorrison.com Blog: http://isaiyanmorrison.com/blogger Twitter: http://isaiyanmorrison.com/blogger Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/isaiyanmorrison Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/7163501.Isaiyan_Morrison Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/ b/112494687658017649418/112494687658017649418/posts

Playing with a Full Deck Suzanne Johnson Note: “Playing with a Full Deck” is an original short-short set in the world of the Sentinels of New Orleans series, featuring wizard DJ Jaco, her partner (and maybe more) shapeshifting enforcer Alex Warin, loupgarou enforcer Jake Warin, the undead 19th-century French pirate Jean Lafitte, Cajun merman Rene Delachaise, and a cast of many—few of them actually human.

Life for a wizard sentinel is one long string of danger and glamour. Except when it isn’t.

Take today, for example. I’d donned my rattiest pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to spend the morning lounging on the deck of a shrimp boat as it bobbed along the bank near the mouth of the Mississippi River. I was waiting for my merman friend Rene Delachaise to inspect some repairs we’d made after the River Styx leaked into the Mississippi from the Beyond. We had to check to make sure the repairs were holding.

So I waited on the deck of Rene’s shrimp boat, Dieu de la Mer, while he dove below in his half-human/halffish mer form, checking for leaks. It might have been relaxing in the cool, bright November morning had I been alone. Sadly, a certain undead pirate had invited himself along.

“It will take Rene some time to complete his inspections, so we shall play cards,” Jean Lafitte announced, emerging from the wheelhouse and holding up a deck. “I found these inside.”

The pirate wore his usual garb of a linen tunic over black pants and boots, which gave him a rakish, handsome look—so I looked. It never hurts to look.

Things with Jean were never as simple as they appeared, however. “What kind of cards?” What would an antique pirate play? Old Maid? Go Fish?

“I suggest poker.” A hint of a smile raised the corners of his mouth. “We shall wager clothing.”

Jean Lafitte had spent far too much time in the modern world. If he thought I was playing strip poker, he could go and drink a gallon of contaminated river water. Besides, I was a damn fine poker player, but even when I won, Rene would tease me forever if he returned to the boat to find a naked pirate.

“In your dreams,” I told him. “How about blackjack?”

“Very well, that is an old French game from my youth.” He sat on the deck facing me and shuffled the cards.

Game on.

We played a couple of hands, each winning one. “We must make our competition more interesting,” Jean

said. “I will bet fifty dollars that I can win three games of five.”

“I don’t have that much cash on me, not having laundered any antique pieces of gold recently.” I said, arching my eyebrows as I dug in my backpack for my wallet.

“Sorry, I only have a twenty. Want to bet that?”

“Your credit with me is good, Jolie. We shall remain at fifty.”

I won the first two hands, and he won the next two. Finally, I drew a jack and two fives to his king and nine. I smiled triumphantly and held out my hand. “Pay up, loser.”

He smiled, pulled a pouch from around his neck, and peeled off an antique bank note.

I looked at it a moment, then shoved it back at him. “Nice try. Modern currency only.”

He grinned and pulled a fifty from his wad of bills. No point in feeling bashful about taking his money; he was loaded. I stuck it in my wallet, tucked behind my driver’s license.

“Let us have another wager,” Jean said, watching as I walked to the other side of the boat to look for any signs of Rene. Nothing yet.

I sighed and returned. “So, you want a chance to win your money back? Another best of five?”

“No, Drusilla. We should alter our wager. If I win three of five games, we shall dine together.”

Uh-oh. I’d heard this song and dance before. “Define dine.”

“What you modern people call a date, Jolie. A dinner date, as we had before.”

“I’m not going back to the Beyond for dinner.” The first time we’d tried that, I’d been brain-drained by an elf.

“You may choose the location.” He gave me the slow smile that never failed to turn me into mush. I needed a psychiatrist.

I thought for a moment. “Okay. And if I win, you must make peace with Alex.” Jean and my former partner had a bit of a personality conflict.

“Bah.” Jean’s word was filled with disgust, but his eyes twinkled a deep, rich blue. The man loved to barter.

“This gives me much incentive to win. Very well.”

The first two hands went my way, and I relaxed, trying to imagine Alex and Jean peacefully coexisting….Until he won the next three hands and sat back with a satisfied smirk. “You shall have dinner with me, Jolie. Perhaps I might make you forget your shapeshifting hound.”

Fine. It was only dinner, for crying out loud. We could walk across the street from my house to Marinello’s Pizza, which meant my shapeshifting hound Alex would be nearby.

A splash from the front of the boat diverted my attention, and I got up and walked to the rail. Rene bobbed in the water. “All but one checked, babe, and they’re holding up good. Give me two more minutes.”

“Okay, we’ll—” I’d been planning to invite him to dinner with the pirate and me, but he splashed me with a big flip of his caudal fin and dove quickly, leaving me with a mouth full of river water.

I walked into the wheelhouse in search of a towel, only to find Jean already stretched out on the bench that spanned the back of the small navigation area, his eyes closed.

An old rag that looked relatively clean lay on the console, and I picked it up to wipe my face, scattering the deck of cards we’d been using across the wheelhouse floor. I squatted to pick them up. The deck was old, with dog-earned corners and a simple red, black, and white plaid pattern. As I gathered them, I noticed a small black ‘x’ on the edge of one, and a series of dots on the others. I closed my eyes and ground my teeth. Marked cards, dammit.

“You cheated.” I rounded on Jean and lobbed a handful of cards at his head, short-range.

Eyes still closed, he smiled as the cards cascaded over his face and neck, and knocked one aside that landed on his forehead. “Oui. We did not specify that cheating was not allowed.” He opened his eyes halfway.

“Therefore our bet remains valid. We will still have our dinner date. Perhaps Friday night, Jolie.”

Copyright 2013 Suzanne Johnson. May not be reprinted or shared without written permission of the author.

Elysian Fields Sentinels of New Orleans Series Book Three Suzanne Johnson Genre: Urban Fantasy Publisher: Tor Books Date of Publication: August 13, 2013 ISBN: 978-0765333193 ASIN: B00CQY7TOI Number of pages: 352 Word Count: approx. 102,000 Cover Artist: Cliff Nielsen Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/2NskZi9B0gU Amazon Barnes and Noble Book Depository

Book Description:

The mer feud has been settled, but life in South Louisiana still has more twists and turns than the muddy Mississippi. New Orleanians are under attack from a copycat killer mimicking the crimes of a 1918 serial murderer known as the Axeman of New Orleans.

Thanks to a tip from the undead pirate Jean Lafitte, DJ Jaco knows the attacks aren't random--an unknown necromancer has resurrected the original Axeman of New Orleans, and his ultimate target is a certain blonde wizard.

Namely, DJ. Fighting off an undead serial killer as troubles pile up around her isn't easy. Jake Warin's loupgarou nature is spiraling downward, enigmatic neighbor Quince Randolph is acting weirder than ever, the Elders are insisting on lessons in elven magic from the world's most annoying wizard, and former partner Alex Warin just turned up on DJ's to-do list. Not to mention big maneuvers are afoot in the halls of preternatural power.

Suddenly, moving to the Beyond as Jean Lafitte's pirate wench? It could be DJ's best option.

Excerpt By midafternoon, I was out of ideas and full of nervous energy that finally sent me out of doors, catching up on yard work I’d neglected all season, raking the small, crunchy leaves from the live oaks into piles a kid would love to play in.

“Need help?”

I ignored the voice and counted to ten, hoping it would go away. Instead, Quince Randolph knelt next to a tall pyramid of leaves I’d erected and took the lid off the big green trash can he’d brought with him. He began scooping up armfuls and piling them in the can. “You should compost this down. It would make a good mulch for flowerbeds. Plus you need more color in your landscaping.”

“Whatever.” I didn’t know what mulch was, didn’t care enough to ask, and had such a brown thumb that flowers never survived my gardening efforts.

Rand wore a chocolate-brown sweater almost the same color as mine, with jeans in a similar wash. With our comparable shades of long blond hair, we resembled grown-up Bobbsey Twins, except he was prettier.

Freddie and Flossie do New Orleans.

“Are you here for any particular reason?”

He squinted up at me against the soft afternoon sunlight. “I just want to get to know you better.”

Uh- huh. “Tell me what you are, and then we’ll know each other better. I’m betting elf or faery.” I was kind of betting elf— it might explain his interest in me although, thankfully, he’d never shown any inclination to plunder my brain.

He grinned. “Go to dinner with me and I might tell you.”

I noted the return of his peridot earrings. Big liar. Super-big cheater. “Where’s Eugenie? You know, your girlfriend?”

A flash of irritation spoiled his perfect features a half second before he answered. “Working. Can we—” What ever he planned to ask, my answer would be no, but he didn’t get a chance because a clomping noise reached us from the direction of Prytania Street. Rand and I both were stricken speechless at the sight of Jean Lafitte sitting like royalty in the back of a gold and white French Quarter tourist carriage. It was being pulled by a light- gray mule wearing a hat festooned with fake flowers and driven by a smiling guy who had no idea how many daggers his undead pirate passenger had hidden on him.

The ornate carriage rolled to a stop, and the mule flicked an ear at the passing traffic. Those animals pulled tourists around the French Quarter all day, and it would take more than an impatient Toyota driver to rattle one of them. The carriages were also ridiculously expensive if one commissioned a ride outside the Quarter.

Then again, Jean Lafitte was loaded. The driver probably had a reason to smile.

Jean exited the carriage with extraordinary grace for such a large man. He was tall, powerfully built, black-haired, cobalt-eyed, a shameless flirt, and talked with a raspy French accent that made me swoon even though he was technically dead. In other words, I had a bit of a problem with Jean Lafitte and my own common

sense being present at the same time.

Jean said a few words to the carriage driver, then turned to prop his hands on his hips in a broad piratelike stance, giving Rand a disapproving visual once-over. The mule backed up a few awkward steps before pulling the carriage into my driveway.

God help me, I hoped Alex didn’t get home in time to see this. I’d never hear the end of it.

“Do you wish me to rid you of this intruder, Jolie?”

About the Author: On Aug. 28, 2005, Suzanne Johnson loaded two dogs, a cat, a friend, and her mom into a car and fled New Orleans in the hours before Hurricane Katrina made landfall.

Four years later, she began weaving her experiences and love for her city into the Sentinels of New Orleans urban fantasy series, beginning with Royal Street (2012), continuing with River Road (2012), and now with Elysian Fields (August 2013).

She grew up in rural Alabama, halfway between the Bear Bryant Museum and Elvis’ birthplace, and lived in New Orleans for fifteen years—which means she has a highly refined sense of the absurd and an ingrained love of SEC football and fried gator on a stick.

She can be found online at her website or her daily blog, Preternatura. As Susannah Sandlin, she writes the best-selling Penton Vampire Legacy paranormal romance series and the recent standalone, Storm Force.

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What inspired you to become an author? my love of reading, an overactive imagination and an ardor for theatrical invention

haven’t tackled yet?

Murder Mystery Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

Do you have a specific writing style?

Visual and descriptive.

Do you write in different genres?

Not yet.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

The House was a natural title, because the action starts and ends in the (magic) house.

Do you title the book first or wait until after it’s complete?

Lucien Fox, from my current book in progress, is flawed and unpredictable, impetuous, egotistical, generous, intelligent and romantic. His duality challenges me; a schemer on one hand, but generous to those who he respects and cares for. It is hard to dislike him, even though some of his actions have been immoral.

What book are you reading now?

Armadale by Wilkie Collins What books are in your to read pile?

The Inimitable Jeeves –Wodehouse; The autobiog of Benvenuto Cellini; In a glass darkly – Sheriden Le Fanu; The Garden Party – Katherine Mansfield; Clair de Lune – Pierre La Mure; A pair of blue eyes – Thomas Hardy

First so far.

What books/authors have influenced your life?

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

The power/hope of eternal love Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life?

Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre – E&C Bronte; Madame Bovary – Flaubert; Scarlet & Black – Stendhal; The mysteries of Udolpho – Ann Radliffe; Forsythe SagaJohn Galsworthy; Lady of the Camilias – Dumas jnr; The woman in white – Wilkie Collins; Narnia series – C S Lewis; Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carrol; Lost Illusions – Balzac; Mill in the floss – George Eliot

The main character has some philosophies that concur If you had to choose, which writer would you consider with me, the hopeless idealist. a mentor?

Is there a genre(s) that you’d like to write that you

George Eliot

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

The House, is an adult fairy tale, time travel romance.

Clad in a torn night dress, a woman finds herself one afternoon in an arcane forest. How she arrived there remains a mystery, both to her and the reader. Finally she encounters a scary looking house (very much like those in traditional fairy tales). Once inside, a magic portal transports her to a Georgian estate where dramatic events take place.

Unable to find an escape route, she remains there a long while over many months interacting with a curiously dysfunctional household. Finally she finds her way to the bewitching house and a journey to Regency London follows, where the visitor forms a relationship with a disparate cast of individuals. One foggy night, typical of London, a down cast man arrives, and encounters the time traveler in his former home. When their eyes meet, they are both overcome by an inexplicable sense of familiarity. Having arrived back after a sojourn in Florence, the poet is instantly taken by the mysterious beauty. This exceptional meeting promises restoration for the heart broken man. But there are still a few more twists and turns obstructing this most unusual love match. A past life connection soon emerges, with many pieces of the puzzle forming a startling picture by the last pages. Upon the final curtain, the biggest surprise of all is revealed, with a conclusion, although bizarre, that is positive, as with all good fairy tales.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Not yet Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?

Debussy, Satie, Chopin (piano music classical and impressionist) What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

I am still performing dance at 53!

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

Dance What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

Working on novel “The other side” set in New York late 80’s, a paranormal romance mystery based on revenging ghosts.

A wall street ‘Ponzi’ scheme trader meets and falls for a contemporary dancer one night in peculiar circumstances. Whilst unknown to him, his life is being manipulated by the vengeful ghost of his dead wife. The dancer has her own trials, perpetrated by the ghost of her embittered showgirl mother, who in pursuit, is also Is there anything you find particularly challenging in hell bent on causing problems. His past catches up your writing? with him (largely orchestrated by the wife), and drives a wedge between the love match. Realizing that her Finding language compatible with the regency era was daughter’s happiness is being sabotaged by this medat times difficult. dlesome wife, the dancer’s mother regrets her own Who designed the cover of your latest book? part, and to make amends, akin to a game of chess, preempts and circumvents the vindictive wife’s maneuI did vers.

The House Sebastiana Randone Genre: Adult fairy tale, regency romance, past-life romance, paranormal/fantasy, timetravel ISBN: 978-1-4836-1371-0 ASIN: B00DAMPQ8Q

Number of pages: 148 Word Count: 50,000 The House is the tale of a woman, who is so absorbed with historical novels that her own reality ceases to offer any hope of romance and beauty.

One day this dreamy idealist finds herself in a mysterious forest. How she arrived there is unknown. She encounters a ramshackle house, wherein magical rooms that transport to parallel worlds lay in wait. She is transported to historical England, where she interacts with a collection of character's whose dysfunctional lives become apparent immediately.

The first tribulation involves a nefarious lord, an archetypal embodiment of the monstrous creatures that often haunt fairy tales. The ramification of this confrontation sets the tone for the narrative.

Before long, the folly of disdaining her mundane reality is realized, and she desires desperately to return to her former predictable life.

A hidden portal finally enables escape from the austere Georgian dwelling. She is spirited back to the enigmatic house, where a journey to Regency London ensues. A large cast of eccentric identities present themselves.

One day a handsome, despondent poet arrives, following a period in Florence. His introduction to the time traveler offers promise of restoration and love. But upon the face of it, and much to his chagrin, this union cannot be consummated. There are a few more obstacles ahead before her destiny in this strange adventure is made apparent. In the end a past life connection starts to reveal itself. And like all good fairy tales, the ending is pleasing, even though the means of getting there are dark and at times, sinister.

Buy it here

Amazon

DREAM CAST

Kobo

THE HOUSE by Sebastiana Randone

Scura(the time traveller) – Kate Bush when she was in her mid 30’s. I thought long and hard over this one.

With my limited knowledge of modern actors, I cannot think of an actress who captures her as Ms Bush would have in her days as the beguiling chanteuse of Wuthering heights - the dark, dreamy, forest nymph look, wild thick dark hair, symbolic of unrest, and her sensuous deep dark eyes that reflect vulnerability and intelligence.

David Chatterham – David Sylvian (singer) in his mid 20’s. This neo-romantic singer with his deep blue eyes and fair features is a perfect fit for David Chatterham, the gentle melancholic poet. Particularly dressed in that wine coloured velvet riding jacket and creamy moon silk cravat.

Lord William – James Purefroy (actor from recent show “the following”). Lord Williams was once a handsome man, but has degenerated into a malevolent drunk. I am more that certain this engaging handsome actor, could effortlessly channel the broken man who has been spoilt by the debauchery that come from wealth and power.

Lady Catherine – Gwyneth Paltrow. Gentle, swanlike neck and sad blue eyes, is how Catherine is described.

Physically this actress is Lady Catherine. Underlying her temperate exterior, exists a woman treated harshly by an abusive husband. It is in the arms of religion that she finds peace and meaning. There is so much more to this woman, and had she been born in our times, she would have been a creative and socially aware woman of means.

Percy - Stephen Fry. Although in the book Percy is described as bald, there is something so similar in these two men, that well Stephen Fry is the perfect choice, mainly due to Percy’s avuncular nature. Scratch the surface however and a man with an unhealthy predilection for liaisons with dubious characters is revealed. Not prone to wallowing in self pity, the violent loathing exacted upon him as a child by his father, nevertheless has led him to live on a diet of indulgence and excess.

Jonathon Pilkington – Hugh Laurie or Richard E Grant. With his long limbed and slender build, this man walks through life with a penchant for alcohol and gambling, there is something quite whimsical about him.

Sebastienne - Romain Durais.

Adeline – Kirsten Scott Thomas About the Author: Sebastiana Randone lives in Melbourne, Australia, and is from a dance background.

From an early age, Sebastiana developed a passion for reading, and from that moment has never been without a book.

The desire to write ‘one day’ had been pursuing for a long while. Finally that goal was realized with the debut release of “The House”; an adult fairy tale set in the Regency era.

Sebastiana is presently writing her second book; a paranormal romance novel based in New York late 1980’s. http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7030435.Sebastiana_Randone https://www.facebook.com/sebastiana.randone/about

Lucky Phoo Stacia Deutsch and Rhody Cohon Genre: Children’s Mid Grade Publisher: Imajin Books Date of Publication: August 1, 2013 Number of pages: 109 Word Count: 43,000 Cover Artist: Ryan Doan Amazon Book Description: Seventh grade best friends, Caylie Jiang-Kahn, Lauren Blindell, and Sabrina Robinson have busy middle school lives.

Sabrina wants to make a movie about their friendship, but a stray dog shows up and ruins the day. In frustration, Lauren curses, “Oh Phooey.” The name sticks. The crazy mutt will forever be named Phoo.

Sabrina pieces together bits of the footage she shot. She highlights Phoo’s silly antics and puts the video up on a movie contest website.

The video goes viral and suddenly, Lauren, Caylie, and Sabrina are celebrities at school. When a volunteer at the dog shelter sees the film, she assumes the dog belongs to the girls and calls them to come collect Phoo.

The girls arrange to take turns caring for Phoo until he can be adopted.

While sharing Phoo, Caylie, Sabrina and Lauren begin to notice that if the dog is around, lucky things seem to happen. The moment he’s gone…the luck disappears.

When they all need the dog’s magic at the same time, it’s up to the girls to decide once and for all: Is Phoo truly a lucky dog?

Excerpt: Mrs. Salinas was ready to go. “So if you girls are sure you can’t take him any longer, I’ll just head on over to the van―” She took a few steps forward then turned back to the girls. “You’re sure you can’t foster him any longer?”

“I can’t,” Sabrina said, her voice tight and sad.

“Not me,” Lauren confirmed.

“I might be able to squeeze out another weekend,” Caylie said, “but we’d be back here on Monday.”

“Right,” Mrs. Salinas said. “And at least this way he has a chance of getting adopted in Fresno.”

She took a few more steps towards the van. The rain, to Lauren, seemed to be coming down harder. The drops blended in with her tears now. And looking at Caylie and Sabrina, Lauren couldn’t tell, but was pretty sure they were crying, too.

Mrs. Salina’s stopped one more time, just at the edge of the parking lot. “It was great having him,” she

said. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Lauren agreed. “Great.”

“We had fun,” Caylie said.

“Fun,” Sabrina repeated the word. “Yeah. We had a good time.”

Mrs. Salinas nodded. “I thought so.” She looked down at the dog, then back at the girls. “Tell me,” she said, her voice soft, drippy like the rain. “Weren’t things better when Phoo was around?”

The remark caught Lauren off-guard. What was Mrs. Salinas talking about?

“I think she’s right,” Lauren said, turning to Caylie and Sabrina. “Things have been going better than usual for me lately.”

“You don’t think he might have some kind of powers?” Sabrina looked over at Mrs. Salinas who was now at the van, loading Phoo inside.

“Well,” Caylie said, considering.

“I think maybe,” Lauren said tentatively. “I saw this show about luck and how―” Lauren stopped herself mid-sentence when she saw Mrs. Salinas push Phoo into an empty carrying cage. His voice joined the choir of barking dogs and was the loudest of them all.

In a sudden move, the girls rushed forward to stop the truck, shouting together, “Mrs. Salinas! Wait!”

About the New York Times Best Selling Authors: Rhody Cohon wishes she could adopt a million pets! Until her house is big enough she'll pamper the few she has and help others find the perfect home.

Find Rhody at www.rhodycohon.com.

Stacia Deutsch sits at the keyboard crafting stories all day and then, plays with her own crazy, lucky, dog at night. She and her three kids live in Southern California. You can visit Stacia at www.staciadeutsch.com or on twitter at @staciadeutsch.

Website: www.staciadeutsch.com, www.rhodycohon.com Blog: http://www.goodreads.com/staciadeutsch Twitter: @staciadeutsch Facebook: www.facebook.com/staciadeutsch or www.facebook.com/ luckyphoo to post your own pet photos and videos LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/sfdeutsch/ Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/staciadeutsch AuthorCentral: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002BMB0UE

Reapers, wraiths, ghouls, gargoyles: all of the Wail of the Banshees Ghost Wars Saga Book One monsters that I thought were storybook characters are real! On top of it all, the powers that be Robert Poulin in the ghost world want to enslave me and use Genre: Urban Fantasy/ me in their own diabolical plot to manipulate Paranormal the people of the living world. Too bad I didn’t turn out to be the kind of ghost they wanted me Publisher: Ghost Watch Pub- to be, and I’m not about to let them turn me into lishing one of their puppets. These ghosts are responsiDate of Publication: June 19, ble for my murder and the murders of eight oth2013 er women. mobi: ISBN: 0989446905 Print: ISBN13: 9780989446907 epub: 9780989446921 mobi: B00DH7JQNK Number of pages: 350 print Word Count: 100, 471 Cover Artist: Hannah Carr Amazon Smashwords BN Kobo Extended description My name is Veronika Kane and dying, dying was just the beginning.

How was I supposed to know that getting smashed on my 21st birthday would lead me to becoming the 9th victim of a serial killer that’s been stalking Philadelphia’s streets for months?

Now I’m a ghost and unlife is pretty scary.

A rebellion is coming, and the ghosts that run this place are about to find out just how big a mistake they made when they had me killed.

My name is Veronika Kane and being murdered isn't the end of my story.

Wail of the Banshees is an Urban Fantasy Novel and the first book in the exciting Ghost Wars saga which features paranormal horror and action set in living Philadelphia and the ghostly world of Limbo.

Wail of the Banshees is Robert's first novel; he has been a huge fan of fantasy and science fiction since second grade when he discovered The Hobbit. Urban fantasy in particular has become Robert's favored genre in the past decade

Paranormals, when did that happen?

By Kenya Carlton As an avid fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I somehow missed out when paranormal books made their way onto bookshelves and exploded into several different genres. Where the hell was I? All of a sudden, great covers and cool art work were staring me in the face on the bestseller list and in movies. Perhaps I was still stuck in the romance section hoping someone would vamp out and bite the heroine … honestly, who knows. So at this point, I’m overwhelmed by all the options and need a little help. This is my best attempt at breaking down the genre.

YA’s seem to delve into every aspect of paranormal activities.

Twilight Mormon mother rewrites a classic. Twilight is a weird twist on Jane Austen’s Grapes of Wrath except with less sex (get it, no sex back then) and more biting. I read all four books and thought Twilight and Breaking Dawn were the best in this series. I haven’t quite gotten passed the first movie, but I am considering skipping to Breaking Dawn. Let me know if it’s worth it.

Vampire Diaries Haven’t read the books but watched the series. I’ve missed the last two seasons. Sorry, but I can honestly say I don’t feel like I am adult enough to deal with an Elena and Stefan break-up.

P.C. Cast Is wildly popular, but I haven’t read one book by this author. I don’t know where to start. P.C. Cast has so many series it’s a bit overwhelming for someone who likes to start at the beginning. I’m open to suggestions?

Anyone, anyone …

Vampires Adults and Y.A. readers who are mostly adults have a fascination with those sneaky creepy crawlers that all seemed to be stupid sexy. Top in this category are J.R. Ward, Jeanine Frost, and Charlaine Harris. I’ve just begun to read the Night Huntress series, but I love The Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris and the Jaz Parks series by Jennifer Rardin.

Shape-shifters/Ghost/Supernaturals/Witches/ Werewolves These books should all have their own category, but come on people! How long is this blog going to be? Shape -shifters practically get their own section in the paranormal world; there has been much written about the Werewolf or Lycan man-beast. This is a particularly interesting take on the paranormal love story. Just like the vampire the question begs to be asked, can the beast tame itself long enough to win over the beauty?

Messenger Series The Eileen Rendahl series is different and quirky. A messenger for the supernatural world can deliver anything of magical nature to the other realm without retribution due to her messenger status. The side characters are great and the main heroine actually shows growth in each installment.

Elemental Series Jennifer Estep has great covers and a great heroine. Gin is beyond broken and damaged, and the reader just hopes the assassin would one day get her shit together. However, so far the outlook is cloudy.

Ghost Hunters Victoria Laurie has the cutest little ghost hunter series with M.J and her side–kick, Gilley. This is more of a campy take on the paranormal novels, but I’ve read every one.

Steampunk paranormals This form of Paranormal I’m not well versed in. Many of the books look good, but I’m once again scared that I’ll pick the wrong one so I don’t know where to start. Mel Jean Brooks and Gail Carriger seem to be the top authors in this genre, and according to Goodreads they hold the top spot. A smidge intimidated by the covers; I fear that Sc- Fi would be the main theme in these novels. Not a book snob in the least, I’m willing to give the genre a try. My first shot will be Soulless and then I might be brave enough for something more.

Hot Flashes The Drakkon Volume 1 Leila Gaskin Genre: Urban Fantasy Number of pages: 300 Word Count: 85,988 Cover Artist: Tatiana Vila Book Description: “Dragons do not exist.” Ella Hixson shrieked as the mythical beasts dive from the sky shredding her car with their impressively long talons and sending her careening across the road in an attempt to avoid the being flambéed.

Escaping her car, she grasps the car door in order to prevent herself from tumbling down the slippery embankment. Pouring rain soaks Ella’s interview suit and her dress shoes as she searches the sky for the attacking beasts to find nothing but clouds heavy with their payload of rain.

Hallucinations, relationship destroying fights with her only surviving relative-her mother, and, thanks to a bodaciously bosomed, bottle-blond, jobless, Ella needs the universe to cut her a break.

Be careful what you wish for.

Circumstances conspire and Ella’s mundane existence evaporates when she discovers she is Drakkon, the hidden heir to an ancient dynasty, and she has an enemy who would see all the

Drakkon race enslaved or dead.

No more ordinary days for Ella as learns what it is to be Drakkon, tries to save a world she knows nothing about, and still be home in time to feed her dog.

About the Author: Born on a dark and stormy night on the other side of the world from Richmond, VA, Leila Gaskin began a life full of imaginative wanderings. Inspired by her journey, Leila takes inspiration from the places she’s lived. She is the author of several short stories ranging from horror, speculative fiction, and science fiction. HOT FLASHES is her debut novel.

With her dog as her co-pilot and the cat as the navigator, Leila explores her world and tells her stories.

Website: http://www.leila-gaskin.com Twitter: @leilagaskin Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LeilaGaskin Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/ profile/view/leilagaskin/ GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/ Leila_Gaskin

OBSESSION EXCERPT Running clothes on at last, Angie flew out a side door into the pool area and smack into that damn man, Alejandro. Half-naked. Despite her verbal jabs about flab, his six-pack abs and sexy scar made her fingers itch to touch his skin. He wore a tiny, tight Speedo that left absolutely nothing—nothing—to the imagination. Had he no sense of modesty? Were there no laws about indecent exposure or just plain lewdness in this freaking country? Or unconcealed weapons of Miss and Mrs. Destruction? The man was, without a doubt, a humongous danger to anyone with a vagina.

At last she tore her gaze away from the man’s groin and up to his smirking face. She hadn’t even worked up a sweat, and she was already breathing hard. What the hell was wrong with her? Did she have altitude sickness?

“Are you following me?”

“No.” He frowned and gave her a slow once over.

“Are you following me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She tossed her head, and her ponytail smacked her in the face. For God’s sake, even her hair was attacking her now. She grabbed her eye.

He touched her wrist. “Need first aid?”

“No.” She swatted him away. “I need you to leave me alone.” She turned to get away from him, from his smarmy good looks, and his teeny-weenie swimsuit.

“Hey.” She turned. “What is it? I really need to get some exercise.” She jogged in place, then stopped when she saw his eyes moving up and down in sync with her bouncing breasts. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “You have my full attention.” She struggled to keep her eyes on his face and not below the belt. She pretended he had a giant python in his pants.

That helped. Sort of.

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you before. I had your best interests in mind. If your father’s cult is in the mountains or valleys of the Sierra Madre, we’re going to be traveling over rocky terrain, some of it at high altitudes and steep grades.”

“And?” This was not news to her.

“Goats have no problem making their way around there. Well, goats and the Tarahumara.”

“Pardon me?” What the hell was he saying?

“Indigenous people, here way before the Spanish arrived. Subsistence farmers, goat and sheep herders, tireless runners. As in they can run thirty to fifty miles a day without breaking a sweat.”

“Cut to the chase. What does this have to do with me?”

“You’re not a goat. Or a native of the area. I’m worried about your stamina. The days are hot, the nights cold and windy. It’s a desert in areas, wooded in others, and generally uninhabited except for a few thousand hardy Indians, Mexicans, mixed bloods, and Mennonites.”

“Skip the travelogue. Here’s what I hear you saying. You think I’m going to slow you down and be a burden. Is that right?”

He had the grace to look sheepish.

“Okay, Mr. Hot Shit. Put on some clothes.” Please put on some freaking clothes and cover up that snake. “And your running shoes. I challenge you to a race.”

He put his hand up. “That’s really not necessary.”

“I insist. And, how about a little friendly wager to make it fun?”

“Sure.” He grinned. “What’s the prize?”

“Loser gets to ask Isabel where we can find Raul’s body parts.”

His face fell. “That’s not a good idea.”

“What are you? Chicken?” She flapped her arms and clucked.

He laughed. “No, I’m more of a rooster. But that was an impressive imitation.”

“I grew up on a chicken farm. I also do roosters and lawnmowers, but that’s only when I’ve been drinking, and I don’t do that anymore. Aw. C’mon, let’s go for a little race.”

He tossed her a puzzled look. “Give me five minutes. I’m going to whip your ass.”

In her dreams. She enjoyed the view of his nice tight buns as he walked into the changing room. Her feet itched to take her in the same direction. Stop, woman. A two-year dry spell didn’t give her permission to hop into a bathhouse with the first cabana boy she met. She ordered herself to do some stretching exercises. Mid-lunge, Alejandro appeared. In khaki shorts, a white T-shirt and sneakers, he still looked too freaking hot. The shorts

Obsession Sharon Buchbinder Publisher: The Wild Rose Press Amazon Book Description: A year after a barbaric childbirth, complete with a near-death experience and an encounter with her guardian angel, Angie Edmonds is just happy she and her son, Jake, are alive.

She's finally in a good place: clean, sober, and employed as a defense attorney.

But at the end of a long work day, she finds herself in a parent's worst nightmare: Jake has been kidnapped and taken across the Mexican border by a cult leader who believes the child is the "Chosen One."Stymied by the US and Mexican legal systems, Angie is forced to ask the head of a Mexican crime syndicate for help.

Much to her chagrin, she must work with Alejandro Torres, a dangerously attractive criminal and the drug lord's right-hand man.

Little does she know Alejandro is an undercover federal agent, equally terrified of blowing his cover--and falling in love with her.

About the Author Sharon Buchbinder I’ve been writing fiction since I was in high school and have the rejection slips to prove it.

After I graduated with a BA in Psychology and no job, I realized my dreams of working in the attic writing great prose would have to take a back seat to the simple pleasures of eating, drinking, and having a roof over my head.

Fast forward a few decades, and I had a career path that would make all but the kindest say, “What were you thinking?” After working in health care delivery for years, I became a researcher, then an academic. I had it all– a terrific, supportive husband, an amazing son, and a wonderful job. But that itch to write (some call it obsession), kept beckoning me to “come on back” to writing fiction. I spent one whole month away doing nothing but writing fiction, the first of many drafts of my first novel.

When not attempting to make students and colleagues laugh, I can be found herding cats and dogs, golfing, deep sea fishing, or writing.

Covet Thy Neighbor Sexy Men of Mystery Book Two Jessica Frost Genre: Erotic M/M Paranormal Romantic Suspense, vampires, light consensual BDSM, whipping, paddling Publisher: Siren Publishing Date of Publication: April 15th, 2013 ISBN: 1627401180 E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-889-2 ASIN: B00CT35ZKG Number of pages: 103 Word Count: 31 700 Cover Artist: Harris Channing Print: Amazon BN e-book: Bookstrand Amazon Amazon.uk Amazon.ca BN KOBO Sony Book Description: Detective Nicola Dupré is back at work after a six-month sick leave, but he’s still haunted by his sister’s tragic death. When Captain Moore gives him an unofficial undercover assignment to befriend the sexy, charming Nero Thorn, the erotic writer Nicola idolizes, he quickly accepts. He thinks it’s an easy job until he gets to know the mysterious BDSM author. Overwhelming emotions he can’t explain draw him ever closer to Nero.

Nero Thorn’s a recluse and he likes it that way. When he literally bumps into his shy, handsome new neighbor,

Nicola Dupré, sparks fly. He’s drawn to Nicola like a moth to a fire and he quickly falls in love. But he has a dark, dangerous secret he’s kept hidden from the world for years. If Nicola ever finds out who he really is, he’ll run away in fear.

There’s a serial killer out there, and the murder of his sixth victim was written in Nero’s last novel before it ever happened. There’s a connection between Nero, the sixth victim, and the killer, and Nicola has to figure it out before the killer strikes again.

Excerpt Covet Thy Neighbor: Nicola gazed at the book, then up at Adam, who peered at him with a curious look as if he waited for some type of reaction. “A book? You give me a book.” The poor lighting had Nicola turning and twisting the book so that the streetlight’s illumination a few feet away could beam on it.

“Look at the name.” Adam gestured with his extended finger.

Nicola’s brow lifted when he read the name Nero Thorn. “Look at that. One of my favorite erotic suspense authors has a new book out.” He flipped the trade paperback over to check out the back cover blurb, but the unreadable black print made him squint. “You shouldn’t have,” he joked.

Adam’s eyes rolled. “It’s not a present.”

Nicola nodded. “I figured that. But how is this book The Messenger’s Gift going to prepare me for my meeting with Captain Moore tomorrow?”

“Read the back cover and see if it reminds you of anything.”

Nicola groaned. “Sorry, I can’t see it. It’s too dark.”

“Wait a second…”Adam took out his cell phone and slid his thumb on the screen until he found whatever he looked for. “I have the perfect app for just this situation.” All of a sudden a bright light beamed from the phone’s screen.

“A cell phone and a flashlight, too. Will wonders never cease.” Nicola marveled at it.

Adam half laughed. “I got a ton of apps just as cool as this that I can show you.”

Nicola put up his hand. “Nope. Not interested. A cell phone was made to make calls, not be a multipurpose gadget.”

Adam grumbled, turning off the light feature, and began to place the phone back in his pants pocket. “Fine, then forget the whole thing.”

Feeling like a horse’s ass, Nicola halted his movement. “Sorry. Bad joke. But you know I’m not a tech geek.”

He pointed a wagging index finger at the phone. “Go on, give it to me.”

Once Adam did as he asked, Nicola began to read the blurb, which described one hell of premise. “Damn, that’s good,” he said once he finished.

Adam gave him a big-eyed, sideways glance. “And?”

“And what?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t it remind you of a murder that happened here just two months ago?”

Nicola shook his head. “Sorry. I hadn’t been keeping up with the news in Chicago. So, a dismembered body was found in this park?”

Adam nodded. “Exactly how it’s described there in that book.”

Nicola frowned. “Well, it’s probably some whacko who wanted to make Nero’s fiction story reality.”

Adam shook his head. “No, can’t be.”

“Why?” “Because the murder happened before this book was ever released.” Adam crossed his arms.

“So then Nero based his story on the murder.” Nicola shrugged.

Adam chuckled. “How could he base his story on a murder that still hadn’t happened?”

He shook his head. “What? You’re not making any sense, dude.”

Adam exhaled deeply and then answered, “Nero wrote the story a year ago, before the murder ever happened.

But the story was only released a month after the murder happened.”

“Well, maybe the murderer got an advanced copy of the book and was inspired by it.”

Adam shook his head again. “Not possible as no advanced copy was available yet. The book was supposed to be released this week, but the publisher decided to publish it little more than a month after the murder happened. They thought it would boost sales. And they were right. Sales soared and it’s a best seller.”

Nicola stared at the copy. “Okay, that’s creepy and one hell of a coincidence. But I don’t get what it has to do with us and why we’re here talking about it.”

“Because, partner, that is what Captain Moore is going to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“What? About the murder?”

Adam added, “Yeah, we’ve been assigned to the case. You and I. I’ve been working closely with the captain for the past month and he’s been prepping me.”

It dawned on Nicola. “Oh, so that’s why you know so much about this book and the murder.” He flipped the book in his hand as he stared at it. “So Nero is a suspect?”

“Sort of. But he has one hell of an alibi for the night of the murder. And reliable witnesses to back up his alibi, too.”

“Then he’s not the murderer.”

Adam tipped his head from right to left. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Nicola stood and stretched his legs. A cramp had begun to form, tightening his neck and shoulder muscles. “Did Captain Moore tell you what I’ll be doing?”

“Oh, yeah. Since Nero isn’t considered an official suspect, it won’t be your everyday detective’s work. So you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

Nicola knew that look Adam gave him. “Oh, no. It’s that bad?”

“Well, it depends on how you look at it. If moving into the condo next door to the sexy author who you once told me you’d do anything to have one night with, just to see if he’s as good in bed as the heroes in his stories, doesn’t appeal to you, then yes, it’s that bad.”

Nicola’s jaw dropped and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Excuse me! Did I hear correctly? The captain wants me to move into the condo next to Nero’s?”

Adam’s lips tightened and he nodded.

“What, as in an undercover operation?”

“Exactly! An unofficial undercover operation.” Adam pointed at him as if he had just deciphered a phrase in the game of charades.

“Why me? I’ve never done undercover work. What if I goof up and blow the whole operation?”

“You’re the best man for the job. You’re one of Nero’s biggest fans, and since you don’t yet feel up to working full-time in homicide at the precinct, it’s a good assignment to start getting your feet wet.”

Nicola sat down again and shook his head.

Adam frowned. “Why are you doing that?”

“I’m still in shock. It’s like I’ve just been cast in the lead role for a story in The Twilight Zone.”

To Serve and Protect Sexy Men of Mystery Book One Jessica Frost Genre: Erotic MM Paranormal Romantic Suspense, vampires, light consensual BDSM, whipping Publisher: Siren Publishing Date of Publication: January 4th, 2013 ISBN: 1627401180 E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-355-2 ASIN: B00B88R9DO

Number of pages: 84 Word Count: 25 727 Cover Artist: Harris Channing Print: Amazon BN E-book: Bookstrand Amazon Amazon. uk Amazon.ca BN KOBO Sony Book Description: When Detective Jacob Brown arrives at the scene of a massacre, he sees a mysterious man escaping. One victim’s still alive. It’s Vincent Brewster, Jacob’s ex-lover who dumped him months ago, breaking his heart and then disappearing.

Later at the hospital, when Vincent sees the handsome detective, he thinks it’s love at first sight. Although Vincent can’t remember who he is, he’s sexually attracted to Jacob.

While Vincent wants to get closer to him, Jacob wants to run away.

But the killer’s still loose. Jacob must protect Vincent and help him get his memory back. This means he has to remind him of their past, including the bondage sex they enjoyed. He vows to do whatever it takes to get Vincent to remember. When his and Vincent’s feelings of love resurface, it’s hard to resist Vincent’s seduction.

What they don’t know is Vincent and the serial killer now have a connection—a supernatural one. And the killer’s coming for him. Can Jacob protect Vincent and help him get his memory back before the killer finds him?

Excerpt To Serve and Protect : “Man, sometimes I hate my job,” Troy Adams, Jacob’s partner of three years, said as he walked ahead through the debris and darkness in the narrow alley.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Jacob looked at him, noting his friend pinched his nose in disgust when he turned to face him.

“But like it or not, we have to scout it out. Captain’s orders.” Troy shrugged.

Jacob huffed, nodding. Troy was right. They had no choice.

The anonymous call the station received an hour ago led them to this search. The robotic voice claimed a third body in The Cleansing Killings would be found here. It was only the twelfth call of this sort they had received this week. All the others had led Jacob and Troy, the detectives assigned to the killings, on a wildgoose chase. Odds were this one would turn out the same.

Yet he couldn’t quite shrug off the funny feeling crawling up his spine that danger lurked not that far off.

The peculiar sensation that someone was watching from the shadows in the corner behind them kept haunting him. He twitched as a cold and then hot bolt of panic possessed his body.

Damn it, relax, Jacob! Pull yourself together. He needed to calm down. Big time! Five years on the police force and three years as homicide detective had conditioned him to always be prepared, never lose his cool.

He knew if he did, he could put his life, or worse the life of his partner or an innocent civilian’s, in jeopardy.

But knowing this didn’t help him at all. His fears and untamable imagination had thrown him a curveball he couldn’t control.

He tried to direct his mind off his paranoia by taking several deep breaths. Speeding in his gait, he opened

his mouth to say he should lead and Troy could follow him, when his partner stopped in his tracks. Unprepared, Jacob almost plowed into him. Jumping to the side to avoid the collision, he cursed. “Watch where you’re going.”

His friend and partner didn’t hear him. He was too busy taking out his gun from his hidden holster and shouting, “You over there, freeze!”

Jacob gazed in the direction Troy aimed his gun while reaching for his own. About ten yards ahead of them two lifeless bodies lay on the ground and someone was crouched over one of them. The giant male held what looked like a machete over the torso.

When the mysterious person heard Troy’s warning, he stood up and darted over the body, heading in the opposite direction.

Troy sprinted after him, shouting back to Jacob, “We got him. It’s a dead end up ahead. He’s got nowhere to run.”

“You go after him and I’ll check on them.” Jacob motioned as he ran to the two men lying on the ground.

The second he reached them, he knew it was too late. At least for one of them. One of the men, who appeared older and shorter, lay on his back, his chest split open and his heart cut out. This was The Cleansing Killings killer’s signature MO, no doubt. The two other recovered bodies had had their hearts cut out of their chest cavities in the same barbaric way. And later, after the coroner did an autopsy, they were found to have had their blood drained from their bodies, as well. What a sick bastard they had on their hands with this case.

In his line of work, Jacob should be used to seeing this type of mutilation on dead bodies, but he still cringed and shuddered every time he first laid eyes on the dead victims, the exposed flesh, and the gore. Jacob’s stomach lurched and he tried to hold back the bile and the tacos he ate for dinner that kept threatening to regurgitate back into his esophagus.

It was too late for this man, but what about the other? The other victim lay on his right side, his back facing Jacob. Jacob quickly knelt and felt the man’s pulse. It was weak but steady. He sighed in relief. As he let go of his wrist, the man moaned and turned onto his back. The streetlight above them beamed on him then.

In utter shock, Jacob stared at the familiar face. He felt the blood drain from his head, and his limbs went weak. Dizziness overcame him and the taco dinner finally won the battle with his stomach, rising up and escaping his mouth. Vomit spewed to the ground in front of him, splashing his black leather shoes.

Once the flood ended, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His throat and tongue felt like they were on fire.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Troy quickly making his way back to him alone, no apprehended suspect in tow. He said, cringing as he stared at the mess at Jacob’s feet, “Oh, that is nasty.”

Quickly recovering, Jacob whisked his cell phone out and made an emergency call to 911 on the police department’s direct line. “We need an ambulance at Park and Beacon Street ASAP. A man is wounded and another dead.”

He stared at the unconscious man while worry ran through his mind. Please, let him be all right.

Troy glanced at the dead body and said, “The killer got away. I thought I had him. There was no way he could have escaped, but somehow he did. One second he was there running, and the next it’s like he disappeared into thin air.”

Jacob didn’t speak, didn’t move.

Troy asked, “Did you hear me?”

He only nodded, unable to break his gaze from the unconscious, injured victim.

Troy snapped his fingers in front of Jacob’s face. “Earth calling Jacob Brown. You in there?”

Jacob blinked several times before looking up at Troy. Yet, he didn’t reply.

Worry overtook Troy’s features. “What the hell is going on with you, Jacob? You all right? Are you dizzy or sick? Do I need to call an ambulance for you, too?”

Jacob shook his head. “I’m all right.”

“Then why do you look like you just saw a ghost?”

His gaze returned to the injured man, and he said in a low voice, barely a whisper, “I know the victim. We were lovers.”

This Ring Jacqueline Paige Length: 23,700 Genre: Paranormal / fantasy romance Book Description: Attempting to pick up the pieces of her life and heart, Emma flees to an isolated cottage on a lake. Not knowing what to do or where to start, she needs time to decide on her new life.

An invisibility curse has given Bryce forty years to reflect on past mistakes. The arrival of an intriguing woman brings him someone to watch, who just might be the first to see him in decades.

Together they may find their chance to live again…

This Ring was previously published in 2011 as one of the stories in the Curses book

Excerpt All in all it had been a long tedious road to this point with no turns what so ever—until this morning when she had looked right at him with both disbelief and dismay on her face. It may not have been a positive cosmic vibe but it was a hell of a lot more than he’d had in all the years he had been waiting and wandering.

Before he was filled with that woe feeling that plagued him daily, after all spending an eternity with no one but yourself got to you after a few years, he turned back to study her. This hadn’t been a huge past time of his, most of the time when there were people around he wandered the other way. After all they represented the one thing he wasn’t – there. With her though it was different, she was somehow different than all the others. What was it about her?

There wasn’t anything in particular that stood out about her. She seemed to be an average height and build.

He pinned her age somewhere close to thirty that much about women hadn’t changed that he couldn’t guess an age range and be pretty close to right. Her hair was a mousy brown, for lack of a better way to describe it, and

she had it all chopped up like scissors had randomly been placed wherever and cut—he liked it, it was original. Of course he didn’t know what the current in thing was, so it may not be all that original. He wasn’t close enough to see her eyes, but thinking about when they were huge and staring in his direction, he was fairly certain they were brown. So she was very much average across the scales—but what was it about her that just kept him sitting here on this rock, not that he felt his body against it, watching her.

There were choices here, at least a few. He could sit here and continue doing what he was doing until night came, bringing morning closer. That would get a few bits past boring if she went back inside again and didn’t return. The second option was to go wander around the lake and pass the time with more speed than he was doing now. Grinning, he shook his head—because making time go faster had worked out so well for him in the last decade, or two..

About the Author: Jacqueline Paige lives in Ontario in a small town that’s part of the popular Georgian Triangle area. No one has ever heard of Stayner, so she usually tells people she lives “near Collingwood” and no, she doesn’t ski at Blue Mountain or at all, in fact she’s not even fond of snow.

She began her writing career in 2006 and since her first published works in 2009 she hasn’t stopped.

Jacqueline describes her writing as “all things paranormal”, which she has proven is her niche with stories of witches, ghosts, physics and shifters now on the shelves.

When Jacqueline isn’t working at her ‘reality job’ or lost in her writing she spends time with her five children, most of whom are finally able to look after her instead of the other way around. Together they do random road trips, that usually end up with them lost, shopping trips where they push every button in the toy aisle, hiking when there’s enough time to escape and bizarre things like creating new daring recipes in the kitchen. She’s a grandmother to four (so far) and looks forward to corrupting many more in the years to come.

Jacqueline loves to hear from her readers, you can find her at www.jacqpaige.webs.com , www.jacqpaige.blogspot.ca or http://magicseasonsbooks.blogspot.ca

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

All the titles of my books are chosen by my characters. Sophia, Ethan and Alistair help me a lot. They are very intelligent and sometimes strong-willed. *grin* In fact, the titles, are always inside the books.

TRUST: PANDORA’S BOX, is the last book of the TRUST trilogy. As everyone knows, Pandora’s Box refers to a Greek legend.

Pandora was the first woman created by the bored Greek gods, to mate Epimetheus, the first man. She was given two opposites gifts from all the Greek gods. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, gave Pandora an intelligent mind and an overwhelming curiosity.

For as much as curiosity can lead to knowledge, it eventually leads to the loss of the same knowledge.

While knowledge is good and strong, it can be weakened by the need to know too much.

All my characters are constantly seeking knowledge, that is inherently accompanied by curiosity. Someone is going to open the box.

Who will be the culprit?

If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?

TRUST: PANDORA'S BOX is the third book of the trilogy. It will come out in the end of the year. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I can say that the readers that have missed Ethan on the second book will see him a lot more in this. Will he finally going to find happiness?

What books/authors have influenced your life?

Well, I have a very eclectic taste in books. When I was young, I loved Barbara Cartland, Charlotte and Emile Bronte. As I grew, Kafka, Becket, Anouill, Victor Hugo, George Orwell and many others made their way into my library. And, of course, the Greek classics and lots and lots of romance. I’m kind of obsessed about books, so I read in the traffic, in the doctor's waiting room, and a few hours every day at home. I hope I have learned something from them.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

The thing I find most challenging in the writing process is definitely the polishing, publishing and marketing part. Sharing my book with so amazing beta readers, reviewers and book bloggers is great and an

essential part of the work. But it’s very hard to conciliate the polishing, publishing, the marketing and the writing of the next book.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Research what you're writing about if you're not familiar with the theme. Surely one of your readers will know if you were lazy. And exhaustively review your manuscript and ask for your friends to read it too. You will always find some typos left.

Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?

Music has always had a big influence in my life. I played the piano until recently and I always listen to music, no matter what I'm doing. When I started writing the TRUST trilogy, I made three lists on iTunes: one with classic music, one with alternative rock and another with pop. Depending on my mood - or the scene - I played one of them. When the TRUST characters were formed I also created a small playlist to each one of them. You can check it out on my website: http://www.cristianeserruya.com.br/site/ soundtrack When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

Hobby? What is this? LOL. I don't have much spare time being a part-time lawyer, an almost full-time writer and reader, a full-time mother of two teenage daughters and wife of a very tall and big husband.

But when I find some extra time, I work-out, ride and to go to museums. Don't ask me when I sleep, because I don't know that answer myself.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

After finishing The TRUST trilogy, I have already another story forming in my mind and I plan to publish it in the middle of 2014. It go be a stand along - or another trilogy. It depends on what my characters demand. They are quite domineering, you know?

For sure, the stories will be about Sophia’s siblings. Carolina Espírito Santo's story has already body and soul. The girl’s story is going to rock Rio de Janeiro, Hollywood, New York and London with a life full of gossip, wealthy people, drugs, sex and rock'n'roll.

But Felipe is asking me to write about his first, since he is the oldest brother. Stay tuned to see what will come next year.

Once again, I would like to thank you for this interview. It helps a lot promoting my books. Hearing from readers is very important to a writer. It always helps us to do a better job.

So, I want to invite everybody to leave a message here or on my website “http:// cristianeserruya.com.br”. I can also ne reached on Twitter(@CrisSerruya) or on my Facebook fan page (Cristiane Serruya). Thank you all.

Atwood House.

Sunday, March 21st, 2010.

6.55 p.m.

“Okay, little girl,” Sophia clapped her hands at Gabriela who was comfortably seated on Alistair’s lap.

“Time for bed. Now.” “But, Mama-” “Don’t you but me. It’s seven o’clock. Time for you to go to bed.”

Gabriela pouted at her mother and then turned her head, looking at Alistair for help. He just smiled at her and motioned his head to Sophia.

“Five minutes more, Mama, pleeeease.”

Sophia looked at her watch and sighed, “Okay. But only five.”

Gabriela beamed at her mother, “Thank you, Mama.” She turned to Alistair and asked, “Tell me another story, please?”

“A short one,” he said as Sophia sat on the sofa beside them and put Gabriela’s bare feet over her lap.

Alistair smiled at Sophia, as he started the story, “Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was very tall, handsome and rich. But he didn’t have a princess-” “What was his name?”

“Ronnoc Riatsila,” he promptly said and winked at Sophia.

“Ugh! What an ugly name.” Gabriela puckered her turned-up nose. “Are you sure he was a prince?”

“Aye. I’m sure,” he smiled, delighted. “So. The prince was very much alone in his big, big castle. One day, he decided to hold a contest to find his bride. All the women in his kingdom would have to go.”

“Only the beautiful ones,” Gabriela said. “Princes can’t marry ugly princesses.”

“Very well. Only the beautiful ones.” His grin broadened as he put an arm over Sophia’s shoulder and pulled her closer.

She sighed happily and nestled herself on his side, listening to the story of the prince called Ronnoc Riatsila, thinking that she wanted his princess to be called Aihpos.

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Thursday, May 15th, 2008.

4.59 p.m.

“But can’t my driver just pick up the prescription?” Alistair paused as he listened to what Doctor

“How are Aunt Elizabeth and Mark?”

“Everyone’s fine, son. Everyone’s fine,” Doctor Lodes repeated as if to assure himself that what he said was true. He motioned for Alistair to sit on the sofa at the end of his office.

Alistair frowned at the strange behavior but complied, sitting on the comfortable gray sofa and stretching his legs. He was tired. He had been working like a mad man lately. “I haven’t seen Mark for a long time.

He’s disappeared.”

Doctor Lodes scratched his bald head and sat next to Alistair on the sofa. “You have been too busy to see your friends, Alistair Connor. Mark got married last week. We missed you at the wedding.”

“What?” Alistair sat up on the sofa. Mark was one of his best friends. “I didn’t get the invitation.”

“We sent it to your apartment. Heather rang us and talked to Beth. It seems you had a trip planned.”

“We did travel, but I would have postponed it if I had known that Mark was getting married. It wasn’t that important. We went to Saint Barths for the weekend to celebrate our anniversary which was in February.”

“Well, too late now, son.” Doctor Lodes shrugged. “See that you don’t miss Johansson’s wedding in two weeks. His father told me that Heather has declined as well.”

What? Alistair’s mouth fell open. What’s going on?

“Did you receive the last results from Heather’s exams?” Doctor Lodes continued.

Oh, damn. I forgot Heather’s exams. I don’t even know if she did them after the treatment.

Alistair looked sheepishly at the older man and shook his head.

The doctor’s face showed no surprise. “Well then. Alistair Connor, I don’t want you to become nervous with what I’m going to tell you.”

“Too late for that, Doctor Ben. I’ve been freaked out since our appointment in December.” Alistair almost laughed. But his doctor and friend had such a stern expression on his face that he knew this was no time for humor.

“My boy, I received the confirmation that the moxifloxacin was effective and that the bacteria were eliminated. Nonetheless... It took too long to diagnose and the damage… Treatments are evolving and maybe in the future they can reverse what’s happened-” “You’re scaring me, Doctor Ben,” Alistair shifted on the sofa and leaned toward the doctor to better look at his soft brown eyes.

The doctor thinned his lips and looked away for an instant.

When he looked back, his face showed a piercing sadness. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Alistair Connor. I’ve known you all your life and I love you as if you were my own son.” He shook his bald head and a cold dreariness sifted through Alistair’s bones. “But the test results arrived this morning. I

still had hope…” He inhaled deep, rested his hand over Alistair’s and blurted, “Son, I’m sorry, but the disease has made you infertile.”

Trust: Betrayed Trust Trilogy Book Two Cristiane Serruya Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance ISBN: 1482586479 ISBN13: 9781482586473 Number of pages: 551 pages Word Count: 137.903 Cover Artist: Renata Fontanive Book Description: Alistair and Sophia have found each other. Their hearts are opening to love again and they are set to have their 'happily ever after'. Or so it seems.

BETRAYED, the second installment of the Trust series, journeys back into the past to reveal their secrets and dark deeds.

Sophia, the ravishing owner of Leibowitz Oil, is determined to have a relationship with Alistair, but a dark and terrible secret lurks beneath the surface she presents to the world. Will she be able to find peace within herself?

Alistair, a powerful banker, is in love with Sophia but has difficulties overcoming his guilt over his daughter's death and his BDSM proclivities. Certain that he doesn't deserve to be loved, he will do everything to push Sophia away, despite his love for her. Will he be able to find redemption?

Ethan, a steel tycoon, no less haunted by his secrets and lies, is still in love with Sophia after their short lived relationship. He now lives in an alternate reality he has created, because the loss of Sophia is too unbearable to face. He will pay any price to have her. Will he have her back in his arms or will he overcome his loss and move on?

Sophia, Ethan and Alistair will need to overcome their guilt, fear and pain and learn to see themselves through forgiving eyes.

Or will they succumb to their misery?

Trust : A New Beginning Trust Trilogy Book One Cristiane Serruya

Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance ISBN 13: 978-1480236295 Number of pages: 464 Amazon Barnes and Noble Book Description: They are beautiful. They are rich. They are strong willed and successful. They have everything, but love. And each one of them has a dark secret looming in their past.

Sophia is a 25 year old Brazilian widow. Intelligent and ravishing, she flees from her own country after a tragic incident. Hiding from everyone and everything, she remains alone, torn between the love for a dead man, the torment of living without part of her memory and the fear of moving on.

Ethan is one of the most important tycoons in the steel industry. As the memory of an awful evening in his adolescence haunts him night and day, he keeps looking for an elusive woman whom he could love - and who would love him - as he never has in all his 35 years... Until he finds Sophia.

Alistair is a 34 year old powerful banker, searching for one–night stands with women who will warm his bed.

And that he can punish physically to abate his anger for his late wife's black deeds and his own guilt for being such a debauched man for so many years. Any woman will do, and he has many to choose from, as they all fall instantly for his manly, devilish charming ways.

In Europe, in the months after October 2009, their paths will cross and clash. Who will win the prize of love?

About the Author: I live in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, with my husband and two daughters. I'm a lawyer, who specializes in cases of sexual abuse and violence against children and women. I also have a Masters in Business Law and a BA in Fine Arts.

I've always loved to read, write and listen to music. I lived and studied in England, France, Italy and Switzerland. Traveling is one of my passions - as is keeping fit and healthy.

After twenty-two years of practicing law, I decided to give writing a go. And - amazingly - it was just the piece that was missing in my life. www.cristianeserruya.com.br https://www.facebook.com/cristianeserruyauthor @CrisSerruya http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6583811.Cristiane_Serruya

Prequel to an Erotic Career

By Roxanne Rhoads The last place I expected to find myself working when I was pregnant was an upscale sex shop.

I had lost my cushy office job due to calling in too many times thanks to morning sickness. And did you know that finding a job while you’re pregnant is almost impossible?

Jobs were scarce enough in the area that I lived but after telling employers that I was pregnant…well let’s just say that threw a big wrench into my available job choices. No one wanted to hire a pregnant chick. I wasn’t showing much when I was putting in applications but being the honest person that I am I disclosed my pregnancy to any place that called me in for an interview…and then never got a call back. Not until Priscilla’s called me.

Priscilla’s was an upscale adult store, similar to Lover’s Lane though they sold a lot more toys and porn and even offered movie rentals. It is on the main shopping strip in my city, so not in a bad neighborhood like some seedy “adult book stores”. No, Priscilla’s was all bright lights and welcoming atmosphere, a store designed for couples. I didn’t mind going to work there.

For the first couple weeks I know I must have turned red hundreds of times, especially when people I knew came into the store…like my son’s little league coaches, people I went to high school with, even my veterinarian. There are some things you just really don’t want to know about people you interact with regularly– like what kind of porn they like to watch and what kind of sex toys they’ll be using.

I think one of the most embarrassing things I had to deal with was the fact I had to put batteries in all the sex toys to check them out before they left the store because Michigan State law doesn’t allow returns on anything that touches the genitals. So I had to make sure the toys actually worked before customers left the building. At first this embarrassed me so bad I wanted to hide behind the counter and die, especially when one of the toys was really, really loud and believe me some were. The loud ones really tended to freak out some of the customers, too.

After about a month of working there I could do poker face quite well. I learned to school myself so I didn’t looked shocked or surprised no matter what the customers asked. I even learned everything I could about the products we sold so I could answer questions honestly and knowledgably.

Working at Priscilla’s turned into quite a fun job, the people I worked with were nice though I was in the store by myself most of the time and the customers were mainly just your normal every day people.

The largest percentage of the customers was couples or women looking to add something “special” to their sex

lives. That was followed by local strippers and webcam girls who got nice discounts on lingerie and dancewear. They were fun to listen to and very interesting to help. A few times I had to usher them back into the dressing rooms because they would walk out into the store barely dressed asking if I could zip them or tie up their outfits. If anyone was in the store at that time they got a live show they weren’t expecting.

After that came the “regulars” who were guys that came in on a regular basis to rent or buy new movies or get the newest magazines that came in. You probably think these guys would be creepy slime balls but honestly only one ever really creeped me out, the rest were normal guys.

The only time I ever got really, really scared was when this young guy came into the store, at night, wearing a rainbow clown wig and sunglasses. My hand hovered inches away from the panic button the whole time he was in the store. He gave off such weird vibes I was sure he was going to rob the place the way he skulked around the store and waited until everyone else was gone before he approached the counter. Turns out he was just really embarrassed and didn’t want anyone to possibly recognize him buying porn and sex toys. After he left I let out the deepest breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding, sat down and counted my blessings the clown hadn’t been a robber.

One other very memorable incident involved a really large rugged man who could have been anything from a truck driver to a construction worker based on his appearance. This guy was probably in his forties, very rough around the edges: mustache, flannel shirt, ragged jeans, big work boots and he was at least six foot six. The man was tall. He went over to our shoe section and asked if I could help him out. I expected him to be looking for something for his lady. When he asked me if we had a pair of shiny, black, high heeled platform boots in a size…thirteen I almost hit the floor. I know my jaw did. That came as such a shock my well schooled poker face didn’t have time to slide into place. After finding the right boots he proceeded to ask for stockings and lingerie- also in his size. And no, it wasn’t anywhere close to being Halloween.

The things I learned while working at that store from stories customers told me to the magazines, books and movies I had the chance to view all enriched my sex life and my knowledge of just about anything and everything sex related. The year I worked at Priscilla’s so much fun I’ve never forgotten it and still consider it to be one of the best jobs I ever had. It was also a very nice prequel to a career as an erotica author.

Advertise Here Contact Roxanne at Roxannerhoads@bewitchingbooktours.com

Green Sex Toys

by Wenona Napolitano Bet you didn’t think I’d go there did you.

Come on though, you can go green and natural in every part of your life.

And what’s more natural than sex?

Sex is a big part of our lives and an estimated 43% of Americans use sex toys.

So it is important that what we use is safe and healthy. Consumers need to fight the government for safety regulations concerning sexual aides.

Many companies in the sex toy industry are listening to what people want- safe, eco-friendly and healthy products but the government still doesn’t care about creating regulations and health standards for the sex toy industry, they would rather ignore it and pretend that it doesn’t exist.

Sex is a fact of life and in today’s modern world we need to stop being embarrassed and stand up for our sexual freedom and our right to safe products.

Green sex toys allow us to have fun and experience a great sense of pleasure while being safe, healthy, and environmentally responsible.

It is time to give your sex toy box a green makeover. Here are some of the materials to stay away from and a selection of sex toy materials that make super sustainable and sexy toys.

The Dangers of PVC and Phthalates in Sex Toys PVC and other plastics are often filled with phthalates- a nasty chemical used to soften the plastic and make it flexible. Phthalates have been shown to alter hormone levels, create damage to the liver, kidneys, lungs, and reproductive system, and cause birth defects. In a study conducted by Greenpeace Netherlands 7 out of 8 sex toys contained some level of phthalates.

Try to avoid “novelty items”, really cheap toys, “jelly” materials, and anything that emits a strong chemical odor. Those are signs the toy is probably made from phthalate filled plastic.

Safer Sex Toys Not all plastic or plastic like sex toys are dangerous. Safer sex toys are made from medical grade silicone,

hard plastic, elastomers, Lucite and acrylic. As long as there are no added ingredients all of these materials are phthalate free.

Silicone is a popular sex toy material for those who want to be green yet still want a more traditional style sex toy. Silicone toys are non-porous, hygienic, and pliable; they warm to the body, retain heat and are also extremely durable. They clean well with plain soap and water. Silicone is hypoallergenic and recommended to anyone who is has a rubber or latex allergy.

Glass, Granite, and Ceramic Toys High quality glass sex toys are very green. They are made with a natural resource that can easily be recycled.

Just make sure you get high quality products that will not crack or break. Trusted names are Phallix, Don Wand and RubyGlass21. All are made from heavy duty, durable Pyrex glass. Earth Erotics offers high quality glass dildos made by Jentle and their own exclusive line of Earth Erotics borosilicate blown glass wands.

Ceramic sex toys are not as popular as glass but with the rising need for eco-friendly materials ceramic toys are popping up at a few places like Coco De Mere. Ceramic dildos are slick and sexy works of art that are durable, made for lasting pleasure. Atraw Ceramic dildos are made from non-toxic stoneware clay and finished with a dinnerware safe glaze. Another company that makes ceramic toys is Goldfrau in Australia.

Glass and ceramic are super fun ways to play green. Of course if you want something even harder you can opt for polished granite.

I don’t know how eco-friendly they are other than that they are made out of natural resource. They are not as popular or plentiful as glass and perhaps not as stylish as ceramic, but they might be something fun to try. So far I have found two styles: the Twist Stone Dildo and the Polished Granite in a realistic penis shape.

Wood Dildos Nothing says natural like wood. Sensuous curves, firm, smooth, sensuous designs and wood warms to the body and retains heat for a truly exceptional erotic experience.

I know you are probably thinking that as a treehugger you should be saving trees not using them as sex toys but trees are a renewable resource especially when they are responsibly grown and managed.

Nobessence ™ brand of wooden sex toys are made from sustainably farmed wood, mostly grown on their own tree farm- Tropical American Tree Farm. If they need something a little more exotic they make sure the wood is certified.

Not only is the wood eco-friendly but they coat their products with Lubrosity, a special odorless, hypoallergenic, waterproof, and chemical and bacteria resistant coating that is safe and natural. The Lubrosity coatings meet USP Class IV and VI Medical Device Implantation Standards. There are no waxes to melt away, no oils that leach out, no toxic petroleum distillates, and no phthalates to worry about.

Nobessence ™ hardwood dildos can be used with any type of lubricant and are easily cleaned with soap and water or sex toy cleaner.

Aluminum and Stainless Steel Aluminum and Stainless steel are other renewable resources that can easily be recycled when you are done with them.

Stainless steel toys are sleek sexy and highly enjoyable. They are also nonporous and easy to clean. One popu-

lar brand is Njoy. Njoy sex toys are made of medical-grade stainless steel. They can be heated in warm water or cooled in the fridge. You can clean them by any means, just avoid abrasive cleansers.

Tantus Alumina sex toys are made from 100% aeronautic grade aluminum. They are designed to play with your pleasure zones. Aluminum is a lighter metal than stainless steel so it doesn't feel so heavy and is often easier to use. Each toy is anodized. This adds to the beauty of the toy and increases corrosion and wear resistance.

Aluminum is the most abundant metal in the Earth's crust and makes up about 8% of the weight of Earth's solid surface, so it is plentiful, recyclable and safe.

Recycle Your Old Sex Toys Now that you know what materials to look for when buying a green toy you can toss out your old, not so safe or eco-friendly sex toys. But instead of tossing them in the trash you can dispose of them in an eco-manner by recycling them.

It is simple and easy to help your planet and make your sex life a shade or two greener. You can get rid of your broken, old, unused or unsafe sex toy and recycle it. Materials that recycled are rubber, silicone, plastic, and the motorized parts.

Learn more at www.recycleyoursextoy.com .

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