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Smolder on a Slow Burn By, Lynda J. Cox
Allison Webster dreams of having an adventure like the characters in the books she loves. But there is no romance in being pursued by a man who wants her dead for educating the children of former slaves. Unlike the heroines she reads about she doesn't have a trusty companion to rescue her...until she literally runs into A.J. Adams, a former Confederate cavalry officer. Now, she just has to convince A.J. he really is the honorable man and hero depicted in the dime novel she is reading. Branded a "traitor" for more than ten years, scarred by harsh treatment in an inhumane prisoner of war camp, A.J. Adams wants revenge. Allison Webster's arrival into his life provides the bait to destroy the men who murdered his wife and daughters and kidnapped his little brother. The men pursuing Allison are the very same men he has sworn to kill. Falling in love and admitting he might actually be a hero means surrendering his need for vengeance. Surrender is not part of A.J.'s battle strategy. Available on Amazon
5.0 out of 5 stars well developed characters and a great story laced with civil war history and humor will ... August 8, 2014 By NANCY E. HEHRE The historically accurate background of this story brings us two characters whose story will keep you rooting for them to overcome the past and find a future. Well written, well developed characters and a great story laced with civil war history and humor will leave you waiting for a sequel. 5.0 out of 5 stars Sizzling Hot! August 20, 2014 By Paula Knight Lynda Cox is simply getting better and better with this historical romance centered around two people embroiled in the effects of The Civil War. Her well-developed characters utilize both humor and courage to keep you turning the pages as you cheer them on. The attention to detail gives you an accurate feel of the time. The Slow Burn between A.J. and Allison will incinerate you!
An Interview with Author, Lawrence BoarerPitchford
Where are you from? Where am I from… that’s a really good question. There are those who claim that I’m the product of chaos and madness. There are those who feel that my origin is some other planet, and yet there are those who feel that I was created from the ether. The truth is that I was born in California on a particularly stormy day many years ago. I’m a half-n-half kid; I grew up half in the San Francisco Bay Area, and half in the Sierra Nevada foothills. So, one might say that I have an unsettled past. I currently live in the fertile Sacramento Valley in California – which is on the west coast of the United States. When did you start writing and what was your first book?
I’ve been writing most of my life, but only realized it was what I wanted to do with my life when I was the last years of college. I seriously began working on writing projects starting in nineteen ninety four. It was then that my college roommate and I took up writing short stories to entertain ourselves. In those days he and I frequented the large Northern California Renaissance Faire that was at Black Point Forest in Vallejo California. In those carefree, happy-go-lucky days, we’d consume copious amounts of ale, feast on faire food, and cavort with the wild-eyed bodice enhanced lasses at the faire. On one occasion my roommate wrote a short story about our faire characters (we’d created detailed characters for the event) traveling to the Queen’s Faire c.1565. Now mind you, we really were drunken loutish rakes in those days, and so it stood to reason that my roommate would make the fictional characters epically more rakeish. The next time we went to the faire, I tried my hand at writing a short story; and so it went, we wrote back and forth exchanging short stories, until we had a pile of them. I then suggested that we make a book, and since the characters and setting were always the same, we should forge our short stories into a novel. The novel that we created and had published is titled Tales of Mad Cows and Brothels (published 2000 by Pulsar Publishing). It’s a story of three anti-heroes who become embroiled in a plot to assassinate the Queen of England, who in turn was plotting to invade France. The three antiheroes, Leofric de Longnor the deposed son of nobility, Kenton McMuir the wanted Irish pirate, and Jacques Perrault de Lyon a disgraced cult priest, find that while they act with complete narcissistic compulsion, fate guides more than they know. The story is irreverent, violent, savage,
and tongue-n-cheek, not to mention quite cheeky. There is topnotch political intrigue, a complex plot, and a hilarious ending, that I guarantee any reader will not see coming. Also, it’s free on my web site www.boarerpitchford.com if anyone wants to download it. It’s in Apple e-pub format and Amazon mobi format. I also must warn the readers that this story is very rated R, if not X – so download it at your own peril. Favorite author? My favorite author? I can’t pick just one. In science fiction I love Dan Simons, Larry Niven, and Philip K. Dick. In fantasy I am a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien, and Robert E. Howard. For the classics I love Homer, and Dante Alighieri, John Milton, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as the great Louis Carol. Favorite book? The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. It’s a simple story, almost as if he wrote it to be a children’s fairy tale, but the imagery and pace of the story is absolutely epic. It was the first novel that I read that took me into a fantasy world. It made a significant impression on me. When I finally began to shape myself into a writer, I was able to reflect on the style and pace of Tolkien’s story, and appreciate the subtle way it drew me into it, and allowed my imagination to make the world real. For high fantasy it really is what I believe to be the benchmark.
Favorite character from a book you've written? My favorite character is Leofric de Longnor the troubled, and perhaps brain damaged son of a murdered nobleman. His plight in the story is compelling, and he is the deeply flawed character that those who have read the book cheer for to achieve redemption. He is all the things that make a fantastic character; he’s flawed, and must struggle to grow, his cause is worthy of success, and those who wish to him harm are true villains. While none of the heroes of the story are likable, they are the underdogs who are pursued not only by those who want to murder the Queen, but by the Queen’s own agents too. Thus, Leofric is not in control of his own destiny, and part of his charm in the story is that at no time is he trying to take control. Like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, he accepts his place along the path he’s set on. He’s consumed by his own narcissistic behavior, but there is a moral compass to him, I’ll be it, not a very good one.
What do you do when you have writer's block? In the past I could address writer’s block by shifting from writing project to writing project. Recently though, I found myself struggling with deep depression and a lack of motivation to create. All I wanted to do was come home and rest. Of course I have a day job, where I work as a professional, and after spending 8-10 hours at work, then an hour commute, then once home preparing for the next long day – the creative urge in me suffered. Finally, I found a cause when a writer friend told me about Create Space.
Create Space is a print on demand publisher. I thought, it would be nice to see my four e-books turned into paperback. Once motivated, I was able to focus on the four e-books that I published through Amazon; The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer, In the World of Hyboria, Thadius, and Sawbones, and format them for paper. They were in need of some reediting too [the plight of the contemporary Indie-author] and thus I embarked on quite a journey. Over the course of eight months, I reread the works, did some extensive copy editing, committed the edits to the ecopies and created the paper copies. Now they’re all available on Amazon, Smashwords, and CreateSpace (and other distributions such as Barns and Noble). Once this weight was lifted from my shoulders, my creative mojo came on, and I have been chomping at the bit to get back to my new writing projects. Any tips for revising a manuscript? Yes, number one, have your work professionally edited. Number two, once done writing your project, set it aside for a couple of months, then reread it. Number three, print it out when editing. I found that adding one of my manuscripts to CreateSpace and making a proof copy paperback version, my edits became much more efficient and precise. Lastly, cut out crap from the work. Don’t try to make something you wrote work when it clearly won’t. Any advice for new authors?
Critique of your work will be forth coming and at times harsh. Prepare you self by saying, “It’s business, and not personal” – even though it may be a direct attack on you personally. I’m an industry of one. I want to make my product and process better, so I need input from my customers. Critique is essential to the artistic and business end of what an author does. As you shop your work around, remember that the rejection letters (or emails) you receive are telling you something; 1) you may need to do some serious rewrite; 2) the agent or publisher doesn’t think he or she can sell the manuscript to a publisher (remember that writing is a business first, and an art second); 3) bone up on your business skills; 4) good writing is driven by emotion – so be in touch with your emotional side; 5) write because you love to entertain, make art, or just have a story to tell, not because you think you’re going to make a fortune.
Anything you want to say to your readers? As an Indie-author I rely on your patronage, word of mouth marketing, and your feedback. It is disheartening to have the many people who buy and read my work, never take the time to give comments on Amazon, or Smashwords, or provide their thoughts on the work. Without your input (good or bad) I don’t really know how I’m doing. For any author, please take the time to write some comments and rate their work. If you like what I write, let others know. Give us your elevator pitch for your latest book.
My latest work is a steampunk science fiction piece that is set on a faraway planet. The story takes place in a nineteenth century setting (as do most steampunk stores). An aggressor nation has invaded its neighbor and the young adult main characters become find themselves on the run from the invaders. The main hero falls madly in love with the heroine as they flee toward a mysterious region called the White Desert. They meet up with a rogue sky-ship captain who helps them escape, and they all head to an outpost called Harrows Gate. There the main character’s friends are captured by the enemy, but he is saved by an alien race called the Desert Ghosts, giant human like beings who dwell in the harsh White Desert. He becomes connected with an alien oracle that helps guide him to some ancient technology that helps even out the playing field. This alien technology allows him to go back to the enemy and mount a rescue of his friends and family who have been taken hostage. I’m at chapter 14 now and expect the story to top out in chapter 17 or 18. Also, there’s plenty of steam technology, dirigibles, exotic settings, and intriguing characters.
2014 Writing Challenge: In 3,000 words or less write about a woman that decides to go on vacation alone. Why did she do this? What does she do on her vacation? Does she discover romance, adventure, or danger? The Result: Freedom By, Violet Ingram
I sat across from my step-mother and tried not to stare as she sipped her tea. It tasted bitter, I knew, but now she needed me so there would be no snide comments today. She had easily believed I would donate a kidney to save my father’s life, even after he had left my mom and me for her. Once they’d said “I do” Janet had made sure he hadn’t had time for me, until now when he needed me or at least part of me.
I smiled as Janet’s eyes became heavy. I leaned across the table and grabbed the cup before any of the liquid could spill out. She tried to speak but her words were a garbled mess. I got up from the table and made sure when she slumped over that she didn’t fall to the floor. I wasn’t completely cruel or heartless. I cleaned up the kitchen then pulled a gallon size plastic bag from my purse. I stuffed the two mugs inside and sealed it up. When I was sure everything was as it should be, I grabbed my purse and headed for my car. *** Half way to my destination I pulled off the highway and disposed of anything that could be troublesome for me in the days to come. Four hours later I pulled into the driveway of the old cabin where mom and I had spent our summers for the past 15 years. She’d fought tooth and nail for it during the divorce and my father had finally relented. After I finished unpacking, I sat on the back deck with a lovely view of the lake and waited the phone to ring. I didn’t have long to wait. My father called with the “tragic” news of my step-mother’s death. I feigned surprise, but could not fabricate anything that resembled sympathy. Over the next few days I enjoyed the peace and quiet in between my father’s more frequent and frantic calls. He was suffering. Not only had he “lost the love of his life”, but his health had declined, especially after I informed him that I had changed my mind about being his donor. Twelve days into my vacation, my mom called with the good news-- my father had succumbed to a heart attack and would be buried next to my step-mother.
I left the cabin long enough to attend my father’s funeral and take care of all the legal stuff. As, I was his only living heir, I received his entire estate. Once everything was settled, I returned to the cabin. I anonymously sent five thousand dollars to the library where I’d stolen a book on untraceable poisons. I thought it was a fair trade. I spent the rest of the summer enjoying the lake and my freedom for the first time in years. It truly was the best vacation of my life.
New Release! Red Rex: Blood Echoes Calinda B.
"Your true name is Red Rex. The baddest of badasses, an alpha warrior beyond compare, here to wipe out the existence of the Deltarcs..." Or, at least, that's what he's been told.
Eighteen year old Gaige Dupond has his life all mapped out. Lose his virginity to Emily. Get married. Become a pro soccer player and travel the world. Simple, right?
His father, a pure-bred Deltarc from another planet, whose race is growing extinct on planet Earth, has other plans--either confirm that he truly takes after his warrior father, and not his dearly departed empath mother, or snuff out his existence.
All plans go awry, however, when the dangerous red darkness in Gaige is awakened like a beam of hell flickering from his right eye, in a night of relentless sexual initiation. Intense cravings and unquenchable arousal are stimulated, and Gaige must find a way to satisfy them without destroying his victims. Pursued by a vicious Deltarc bounty hunter, Deltarc tracking hounds and his father's wicked minions, he loses his home, his life, all that he holds dear in pursuit of the truth. In his quest to find his mother, victim to a corrupt cryopreservation project in outer space, and right the wrongs inflicted on him, he finds something far darker--his own sinister motivations and the need to feed on something other than human food. His only companion, a lab rat refugee named Sojourn, Gaige knows he'll never be loved--not in the way he'd always envisioned. Will he find the revenge he's seeking, or will he become an evil replica of his father?
That's the last thing he'd ever wish on himself, but it may be his only option for survival.
An Exclusive Excerpt from K.N. Lee’s
A Gifted Curse K.N. Lee
Malah rummaged through the dead guard’s clothing. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto the man’s chest as the heat of the room gained intensity. With each droplet of sweat, his bare-chested skin sizzled. Malah grew dizzy and despite the heat felt a debilitating coldness crawl under her skin as her hand searched the last pocket. Nothing. She pulled her dagger from the guard’s head and wiped it clean on the bottom of her nightgown. Her eyes scanned the corridor. Four dead Parthan soldiers lie on the stone floor. None of them had an antidote for whatever poison the clerics had given her. Her full belly churned. She pressed her hand to her belly and closed her eyes with a sigh. Life stirred beneath her palm. Two innocent lives. The Parthans may be strong and powerful, but her gifts gave her an advantage, even if Dwy and his Cleric did weaken her. The Reen guards that patrolled the exit would not be so easy to kill. They were larger, stronger, and composed of stone. Malah wished that they’d never been created. They had kept her prisoner for too long. Malah opened her eyes and breathed in deeply. Within moments, cold air made her golden skin tighten and her toes and fingers numb. Her arms raised and she squeezed her eyes closed as she fed power to the air around her. She peeked through one of her eyelids to see the stone guards turn from brown, to gray. Frozen, they would not give her any trouble for the next few minutes. Minutes. That’s all she had. Whispers filled her head as she ran down the chilly corridor. The dark didn’t bother her, but the voices did. They’d never allow her to escape. Not when the entire planet needed her for its survival. Malah didn’t care about them anymore. She wanted to go home. If she could rid their poisons from her body, she could finally think straight again. She cursed herself for being so stupid. Why had she allowed herself to fall in love? She should have known better. Love never ended well. Hadn’t she seen the results of such a foolish emotion enough times before? Why hadn’t she learned from her ancestors?
Love is a curse, Malah thought with a bitter grimace. She tried to shove Dwy’s black eyes from her mind. His touch used to be so gentle. The heart-break hurt more than the betrayal. Malah wrung her hands. The gray guards slept upright, like statues, their hands formed into daggers, but kept inside the metallic scabbards at their sides. It looked like they simply had their hands in their pockets, but she knew better. She only hoped they wouldn’t be activated before she could escape. “One, two, three, four,” she chanted into her cold hands. Her power was weak. Her heart seemed to shake inside her chest. She had neglected her practice for far too long. She rubbed her hands together and poured out a tiny burst of power. “Yolie! Please, come forth!” A small light formed in the palm of her hand. Malah smiled. Her heart thumped, but this time it was with hope. Perhaps her skills weren’t too rusty after all. The light turned into a ball. She puckered her golden lips and kissed it. The ball of light began to take the form of a tiny figure. The figure uncurled itself. A pop of lightning slammed into the figure and the sound of bells filled Malah’s ears. “Sweet Blessings,” Malah breathed with relief. She dared to let a smile appear on her lips. When was the last time I smiled, she wondered. She pursed her lips and shook her head. No time for reminiscing. Yolie’s bright smile warmed her heart she rested on her knees. Like a doll, Malah’s favorite Blessing had returned. After years of being unable to call upon her, they were once again reunited. Malah could have jumped for joy. Instead, she hid in a corner, with her back against the cold stone wall. She watched the tiny person look up at her with large red eyes that sparkled like rubies. Then, it tugged at its black hair, making it longer and longer, until the curling locks could be coiled around its body like a dress. “Blessed One,” the creature called. She stood in Malah’s hand and looked around. “Where are we this time?” Malah closed her eyes and sighed. She rested her head against the wall and shrugged. “Yolie, we are in big trouble. We are in Partha.” Yolie’s big eyes widened. “No, Blessed One. We have to get out of here! This is not one of ours!” “That’s why I summoned you. I need your help.”
Yolie nodded but pursed her thin lips. “But Blessed One, what do you need me to do?” She sprouted red wings and flew from Malah’s golden hand to hover just inches from Malah’s face. Malah’s gaze lifted to the open air ceiling. The passing sky beckoned to her. The clouds seemed to float and dance and she remembered what it felt like to be free. Free to fly with her family. She felt a stab in her heart as she realized that she would never fly with them again. She was the last, but she would not let that stop her. “How did you get here, Blessed One?” Yolie asked. “We are far from home.” Malah sighed. She gave Yolie a sheepish look from beneath her golden bangs. “I was curious. I wanted to see what this new race looked like.” Yolie frowned. “Why? I don’t understand.” Malah shook her head. “It isn’t important. I need you to fly me out of here.” Yolie clapped her hands. “Oh yes! Yes! I can do it! Let’s go home! Let’s play together again. I do miss our games, Blessed One.” Malah glanced back. It was still quiet in the temple. She might have a chance. Her hands shook. She looked down at them and nearly wept. Blood covered her small golden hands. It had seeped into the crevices of her palm and dried to a dry, sticky, paste. She’d never had to kill anyone before. She’d never had a reason to. Now, nine dead guards and a cleric would haunt her dreams for all eternity. Even if they deserved their fate, the guilt would never fade. “Good,” Malah said and stepped back to give Yolie room. “Go on. Shift.” Yolie made a face. “You forget, Blessed One. I need more of your blessing.” Malah sighed. She had forgotten. Her head was so full of fuzzy thoughts that she could barely think straight. She was losing time. The poison was too strong. Her vision blurred, but she nodded and held a palm out for Yolie to sit in. “Okay, quickly.” Yolie flew into Malah’s hand and bowed on her knees. Gold light filled the room as Malah ignited her blessing. Her golden body levitated as she breathed soft words into her palm. “I give you love. I give you light. I give you the power to Shift and take flight.”
Yolie opened her eyes and smiled. “That was beautiful, Blessed One. Thank you.” Malah fell to her knees and hung her head, drained. “You deserve every blessing, Yolie. Now please hurry.” Yolie nodded quickly and flew into the air. She stretched her red wings and flexed her dangling legs. Her hair unwrapped from around her body and floated around her as she Shifted. Red feathers started to grow all over her pale naked flesh. Her face was covered, and her hair continued to float. Like a giant bird, Yolie’s nose became a red beak and her eyes grew larger. She bowed to Malah. “Climb on, Blessed One.” Malah leapt into the air with grace and landed onto Yolie’s smooth back. She pressed her face to Yolie’s feathers and held onto her neck. “Take me home, Yolie,” Malah whispered. “They have hurt me, and I need to recharge.” Yolie’s body vibrated as she purred. “Oh Blessed One. Yolie told you to be careful. Yolie is always right.” Malah squeezed her eyes shut. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them on Yolie’s smooth back. Life grew inside of her. Such a miracle was true power. Even as a child when Malah went through training, she never imagined she’d be able to do something so incredible. Despite the pain of being betrayed by her husband, she was escaping, with their unborn children. The last hope for the Jinn. A loud explosion made Malah gasp. Shards of green magic shot out towards her. Something clamped around her neck and yanked her from Yolie’s back. Malah screamed for her friend as she was pulled from the air and sent crashing to the hard floor. Yolie fought back and was stabbed by the tip of a red bone spear. Her bird-like screech ripped through the air, sending waves of vibrations throughout the entire room. Malah had to act quickly. She reached out and created a glowing door that hovered in the air. She could never live with the guilt of a friend’s death, and so, she banished her. “Away with you!” she cried. Yolie obeyed, as always. She nodded. Her white body flickered and faded into the cold air. Her essence seeped into the doorway and the door vanished.
Malah wiped the blood from her face and glared at the clerics in red cloaks that surrounded her. Protecting the clerics were Parthan soldiers with their bone spears. Vornid peered down at her from beneath his hood. He reached a hand to Malah’s face and grabbed her by her soft cheeks. Malah squirmed as the abnormally tall cleric lifted her from the ground. She dangled before him like a child as his black eyes bore into hers. The grip he had on her neck made her sick. She trembled. He wanted to crush her throat, but such a thing would ruin them all. As much as he hated her. The entire Parthan race needed her. “Who said that you could go anywhere, Blessed One?” he snarled. Malah felt a hot tear trail from her eye and down her cheek. Vornid watched the tear as it fell to his gloved hand. He raised a brow as it burnt through the black fabric. His eyes flickered up to hers, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening as his brows furrowed. Malah could see much knowledge in his eyes. Too much knowledge, and still not enough. “I will kill you, Vornid. You know this,” Malah said after sucking in a breath. “It is a promise.” Vornid’s dry gray lips curled into a grin. She could smell milk on his breath. The milk of a nursing mother. It turned her stomach. “No, you won’t,” he whispered. Malah cried out as he put his other hand on the top of her head, nearly crushing her skull. Heat filled her head and her body shook while Vornid held her. She had no choice. At this time, Vornid was more powerful than her. Too much poison filled her veins. Malah fought it, with all of her strength, but within seconds she met the eerie black of her own mind.
Available on Amazon & Kn-Lee.com
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