11/26/2014 1 Comment Lindsay Downs Helps Fellow AuthorsUntil the end of December, Lindsay Downs is donating all the royalties from these four books to two friends, and fellow authors, who are undergoing treatment for breast cancer. Lady Brittany Sexton loves her newest book on Africa but she quickly learns keeping it in her possession is difficult. For her, the problem lies with Lord Samuel Palmer, who believes ladies should not read inappropriate tomes. Part of Lord Palmer’s fascination is the cryptic messages found in the margins. What quickly develops between Lady Brittany and Lord Palmer is even more confusing. As Christmas draws nearer and with the book still in her possession, Lord Palmer follows her to her parents country estate. It’s there they, along with some friends, slowly make sense of the notes. During all of this, Lady Brittany learns a fact about Lord Palmer that disturbs her greatly—why he desired the book. To clear her mind and think about her answer to Lord Palmer’s sudden proposal, she goes for a horseback ride, only for disaster to strike. Once well, she returns home. Lady Brittany now has to make a life changing decision. Can she… will she marry Lord Palmer ? Buy Link: Amazon Barnes and Noble When Lord Robert Markson, Viscount of Hampshire, is force to return to England to find out who murdered his father and older brother he’s in for a surprise. It comes in the guise of Lady Kristina Rosewood, daughter to the Earl and Countess of Crossington. To many she’s quartz but to him a multifaceted diamond. While recovering from an attempt on his life which thrust them closer together they work through emotions for each other while sorting through letters sent to his mother years ago. Slowly, they’re able to discover the one man who could have set the murders in motion. The only problem, he’s been dead for years so who could it be and more importantly why now. Once all the evidence is compiled the answer is something neither could believe as the threat comes from within the late viscount’s house. Buy Link: Amazon Accused of murdering her husband, Lady Donna Kersey turns to the only people who can prove her innocence, her brother and his new bride. As Robert and Kristina start their search for the real killer they learn the murder might be more complicated than first thought. Uncovering evidence sends the three in pursuit of a possible suspect only to find this person is innocent, or is he not guilty of the murder but not something else. When Robert and Kristina learn Lord Kersey might not be exactly who they believe him to be that’s when the facts become murky. It takes a surprise visit by Kristina’s brother to help set the record straight which only adds more confusion to the facts. Will Robert and Kristina find the killer of Lord Kersey before the authorities take Lady Kersey away in irons? Buy Link: Amazon At a house party a midnight gallop on a purloined horse leads Lady Sophia Walker into something she wasn’t expecting-a marriage proposal. Barely knowing Lord Peter Gardner, 7th Earl of Modbury, Sophia devises a unique plan to make sure they will get along. What neither realizes, there’s another, Lady Agatha Crumbly, wishes to become Lord Gardner’s countess and will stop at nothing to achieve her goal. Returning to London Peter lives up to his promise. As they learn about each other he soon finds out she has an affinity for a certain flower. To help prove his devotion to her he proceeds to deck out his town carriage in them. As the date of their wedding quickly approaches Lady Crumbly makes another appearance, this time threatening Sophia. Will Lord Peter Gardner arrive in time to save his beloved from death, or will the other win what she wants? Buy Link: Amazon What does it take to be a bestselling author? Determination, skill, talent, luck or taking a risk with a venture into a totally new genre. For me it was a little of some and a lot of the others. In 2008 when I got two books published I thought it was due to skill; little did I know it was more luck than anything. Over the next three years I wrote, submitted, got rejected. I then did what I tell everyone who asks; I wrote some more. I didn’t give up. More on a dare than anything I tried my hand at a regency, one of the most difficult genres because of the rules, which I might add I broke almost every one. Within two days of its release the book was on a best seller list and stayed there for two months. Turns out it is all of the aforementioned. After two failed marriages, one from divorce while with the other died unexpectedly I decided upon retirement to move. That opportunity came in September 2012 when I migrated to Texas. For me, as a multipublished author, it was one of the best things I’ve done to date. Now, every day I can write, creating stories to take my readers to places they can only dream about. I’m also a member of the Published Authors Network (PAN) by the Romance Writers of America (RWA). Where you can find Lindsay: Facebook- http://www.facebook.com/lindsay.downs.7 Facebook Pages- https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lindsay-Downs-Author/325132754200597?ref=hl https://www.facebook.com/pages/Regency-by-Lindsay-Downs/421654731286944 Twitter- @ldowns2966 LinkedIn- http://www.linkedin.com/home Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3210224-lindsay Lindsay Downs-Romance Author- http://lindsaydowns-romanceauthor.weebly.com/
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11/17/2014 1 Comment Queen by Heather GrayYou can't hide from the past. Queen's world was shattered, and she was banished to a foreign land. Years pass before she dares to return, but what she finds is of little comfort. Greed and dishonesty have festered and grown in her absence. Embittered and cynical, Queen trusts few people. Owen pursues a clandestine investigation and finds himself working side-by-side with a veritable ghost, an agent few have seen, a master of disguise known simply as Queen. He craves her trust…but then uncovers a secret from his family's past that could destroy her. Queen once sought refuge in America and now seeks it in disguise. Owen has always found his refuge in God, but will his faith be strong enough for the challenges ahead? Can he convince Queen to stop hiding, or is he doomed to become her most hated enemy? Buy Links: Amazon US – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P8ACR1C/ Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00P8ACR1C/ Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/queen-heather-gray/1120679916 Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/queen-21 Smashwords – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/490805 iTunes – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/queen/id937948777 Excerpt: Christmas Eve 1817 Owen crouched low and looked around him. At least four hale and strong men had given chase. He was nursing a bullet wound to his side and a knee expressing reluctance to cooperate. The alley's darkness provided the illusion of safety. He might yet get out of this alive, if the clouds cooperated and kept the moon concealed. Leather scraped on cobblestones to his right, and he pivoted, knife at the ready. An old man stumbled down the alley. His stringy grey hair was greasy and his coarse woven clothes tattered. He reeked of liquor, vomit, and… Owen wrinkled his nose as he fought the urge to gag. The ruffians who'd been chasing him must have heard the old man, too. Or, worse, they'd heard Owen. They stopped their pursuit down the street and began backtracking to the mouth of the alley. Drat. Owen slipped back behind some crates. He wanted to call a warning to the old beggar but couldn't risk giving away his position. Instead, he tucked his body as tightly together as his wounds would allow while he prayed. "Did you hear that?" "Someone's down there." "Who's there?" The old man shuffled his way, with a dragging hitch to his step, toward the street. Come on, old man. Get out of the way. They're not looking for you! "Never mind. It's a drunkard. Let's keep searching." From his vantage point, Owen watched as one of the thugs shoved the beggar down onto the ground and then kicked him full in the ribs. He winced in sympathetic pain but dared not leave his hiding place yet. To reveal himself at this juncture would ensure a far worse outcome for both him and the old man. The echo of footsteps faded and silence once again fell over the alley, broken only by the yowling of a tom cat. A few minutes ticked by with no indication the group would return. Owen eased himself out from his position, relieved to no longer be wedged between a slimy moss-covered wall and the dilapidated, rotting crates. Pain radiated up and down his side from where he'd been shot, and his knee burned with each step. The old man hadn't moved since landing on the cobblestones. Stooping, Owen glanced at the man's hair-covered face. Age was kinder to some than to others. Between the faded moonlight and the excessive facial hair, Owen couldn't distinguish any features beyond the large bulbous nose. The poor gent could have used a little more kindness. A slight movement of the chest caught Owen's eye, and he sighed with relief. Now to figure out how to move him… The old man was bulky, and Owen was wounded. Could he rouse him? Would he be able to walk? Owen shook the man by the shoulders. His efforts elicited nothing but a high-pitched groan. Seeing no hope for it, he pulled the man over his shoulder and stood, keeping most of his weight on his uninjured knee. No longer radiating, the pain in his side now pulsed with each beat of his heart, its intensity growing with his exertion. Getting the old man settled across his shoulder as best he could, Owen took a step toward the street. Dizziness swept through him, and he knew his knee was in worse shape than he wanted to admit. Three blocks would still be manageable. Wouldn't it? A back room in the apothecary's shop housed a clandestine meeting place for agents. The apothecary was barely three blocks away… Blast it, what had he been thinking? The distance was too great. Defeat nagged at him. Half a block into the short journey, he stumbled and dropped to his good knee, the dead weight of the old man adding force to his fall. The soft creak of leather boots told Owen he had company. He thought to protect his burden and turned toward the sound, but was silenced by a gloved hand over his mouth before he executed the move. "Not a word, Owen. Give me your baggage." Relief gave strength to his limbs as he thankfully hoisted the unconscious form off on Tobias, his boss. Without the old man weighing him down, Owen regained his feet and limped along after his superior. They passed the apothecary shop and two other small businesses before turning down another blind alley. When they were trapped with no way out, Tobias hooted, mimicking the call of the city's hungry owls — often found picking off rodents at night. Before Owen knew what was happening, a pile of refuse moved, revealing stairs that led down to an open doorway. Tobias handed the old man ahead of them through the narrow passage. They followed and soon found themselves in a warm lantern-lit room. The door — presumably with garbage intact — was pulled back into place behind them. The woman who pressed Owen into a chair had black hair threaded with grey. She handed him a bowl of hot fish stew and a crusty piece of bread. He dipped his bread and took a bite out of habit, but his eyes stayed busy examining the room and its occupants. A man with a muscular cut and stormy expression carried the old man over to a pallet on the floor. The woman moved to fuss over the beggar, but nobody made any attempt to remove his hat or loosen his soiled clothes. The beggar's stench soon overrode the smell of the stew, a testament to the strength of his repugnant odor. Owen choked down another bite, fighting the urge to gag. He must have rolled around in vomit to stink as bad as he did. Once the large man rose from laying the old man on the pallet, Tobias waved him over. The two stood, conferring in quiet tones. This one was built either to fight or to ride the deck of a sailing vessel. He was short, his legs braced wide, and his middle thick with corded muscles from long hours of labor. His red hair had begun to fade with age. However he knew Tobias, he wasn't eager to have Owen in his domain. Whenever he glanced at the table and the intruder with the bowl of fish stew, his nostrils flared and his eyes pinched with distaste. Tobias joined Owen presently, taking a seat across the scarred table from him. Owen wanted answers, but Tobias didn't seem inclined to offer any. Try as he might, the younger agent could hold his tongue only so long. "Why not the apothecary's?" Tobias frowned. "It's been compromised." "How?" Owen's boss shook his head. "We don't know yet, but you would have walked into an ambush had I let you go there." "And Williamson?" The apothecary wasn't an agent, but he'd opened his shop as a safe haven for those in the area. A good man, he was a valuable asset in this part of London. Tobias' lips thinned. "Gutted." Owen sucked in a draught of air. Williamson was dead? "Torture?" "It seems so." "Do we know who?" Again Tobias shook his head. "I have a short list of suspects, but that's as far as I've gotten." Owen glanced around the room. He understood now why the red-haired man didn't welcome his presence. He didn't want to end up like Williamson, and who could blame him? Tobias nodded to where the woman approached. "She's going to clean your wound and sew you up. Is the lead still in you, or did it go through?" Owen pushed the stew away. He'd rather not embarrass himself if the pain was too much. Not that he'd eaten a great deal to begin with. "Through, I think, but I haven't checked." The woman — he'd not learned her name — nudged him into a forward lean and removed his coat before he could protest. She gave it a gentle shake, and as she did, Owen could see the glow of the fireplace peeking through two holes dancing within the folds of the material, evidence that the lead ball had traveled all the way through. Tobias must have seen the same thing, for the first smile of the night touched his lips. "I guess that's an answer." Owen nodded toward where the old man lay, still unconscious. "Is he going to survive?" The woman sought the red-haired man's glance first, an unreadable emotion giving luminescence to her dark eyes, before turning back to Owen and nodding. "What aren't you saying?" Secrets added depth to her expression. Tobias spoke before the woman could answer. "Too bad you're not a drinking man, Owen, because you could probably use something for what I'm about to tell you…" Author Bio:
Heather Gray authors the Ladies of Larkspur inspirational western romance series, including Mail Order Man, Just Dessert, and Redemption. She also writes the Regency Refuge series: His Saving Grace, Jackal, and Queen - plus contemporary titles Ten Million Reasons and Nowhere for Christmas. Aside from a long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys are her relationships with her Savior and family. Heather loves to laugh, and this theme is prevalent in her writing where, through the highs and lows of life, her characters find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her. You can find Heather online at http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting, http://www.twitter.com/laughdreamwrite, and http://www.heathergraywriting.com. She can also be found most days at The Inspired Inkpot, a street team, prayer group, and all around awesome place to hang out - http://www.facebook.com/groups/theinspiredinkpot. Where to Find Me: My Website – http://www.heathergraywriting.com Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting Google+ – https://plus.google.com/+Heathergraywritingnow Twitter – http://twitter.com/LaughDreamWrite Pinterest – http://www.pinterest.com/LaughDreamWrite 11/11/2014 1 Comment Warm Hearts in Winter by Helen PollardCan two hearts thaw on the midwinter moors? Forced by circumstance into the world of temping, when Abby Davis accepts an assignment in the wilds of Yorkshire as personal assistant to a widowed novelist, she assumes he is an ageing recluse. Thirty-something Jack Blane is anything but. Still struggling to get his life and writing career back on track three years after his wife’s death, Jack isn’t ready for a breath of fresh air like Abby. Snowed in at his winter retreat on the moors, as the weeks go by and their working relationship becomes friendship and maybe more, Abby must rethink her policy of never getting involved with someone at work … and Jack must decide whether he is willing to risk the pain of love a second time. Buy Links: Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00O2BOMWU Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00O2BOMWU Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/B-N-WarmHeartsInWinter Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/warm-hearts-in-winter Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/481257 Excerpt from Chapter One: Abby chewed her lip in anxious concentration as she peered through the windscreen, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. The narrow country road would be hard to negotiate at the best of times, but in the dark and the snow it was almost impossible. Despite her slow speed, the full beam from her headlights barely showed a bend until she was almost upon it — but since there was nowhere to turn around, all she could do was grit her teeth, stay calm and fervently hope her satnav didn't lead her down a sheep track or into a swollen river. She allowed herself a soft curse at the weather and directed another at Casey while she was at it. It was all her fault this was happening. No, that wasn't true. Her friend was only trying to help, and it was because of their friendship that Abby had been foolish enough to accept this assignment. That and the fact she'd had little choice in the matter. Her recent bad luck — if that was what you could call it — hadn't allowed her the luxury of choice. She needed a job. Her best friend managed a temping agency. A job came up. Abby had exactly ten minutes to decide whether to accept the post of personal assistant to some thriller writer she'd never heard of. Casey had heard of him and recommended she did. Actually, she reminded her she was in no position to refuse. It would be a challenge, Casey said. Unusual, Casey said. Abby trusted her and accepted. And now look. Desperate to set off before the weather deteriorated, she'd packed in such a hurry she'd probably forgotten half of what she needed, and she'd been driving for two hours through conditions that only got worse by the minute. She wasn't sure her ageing car could take much more. The wipers were clogged with the thick snowflakes that swirled across the windscreen, reducing visibility to virtually nothing. She had no idea what she would do if something came in the opposite direction — although she was so far out in the middle of nowhere she doubted there was another soul around. That is, apart from Jack Blane — her new boss for the next few weeks — who in his wisdom had chosen to write his latest novel miles from civilization on the bleak Yorkshire moors in the worst winter weather for years. Abby had heard writers liked solitude, but this was ridiculous! Just as she was beginning to think this whole thing must be a bad dream, her satnav archly informed her she was nearly there. Abby slowed her car to a crawl, peering over the steering wheel like an old lady who'd forgotten her glasses. "Nearly where?" she asked the machine's know-it-all voice. A dark shape loomed at the side of the road, and she screeched to a halt. Not a bright move. The car skidded nearly full circle, and Abby had to fight both the wheel and her own panic to regain control. Her heart thudding, she opened the driver's window and stuck her head out. A house of forbidding dark stone, dusted liberally with snow, stood silhouetted against the grey sky. Abby glared at her satnav and back at the house. Well, this must be it. There was certainly nowhere else in sight. "Great. Out of the frying pan and straight onto the set of Wuthering Heights," she muttered. About the Author: Helen Pollard writes contemporary romance with old-fashioned heart. She firmly believes there will always be a place for romantic fiction, no matter how fast-paced and cynical the world becomes. Readers still want that feel-good factor - to escape from their own world for a while and see how a budding romance can blossom and overcome adversity to develop into love ... and we all need a little love, right? A Yorkshire lass, Helen is married, with two teenagers. They share space with a Jekyll and Hyde cat that alternates between being obsessively affectionate and viciously psychotic. Antiseptic cream is always close at hand. When Helen’s not working or writing, it goes without saying that she loves to read. She also enjoys a good coffee in a quiet bookshop, and appreciates the company of family and close friends. Find Helen at: Facebook: http://tinyurl.com/FacebookHelenPollardWrites Website & Blog: www.helenpollardwrites.wordpress.com 11/5/2014 0 Comments Aware by Sara B. GauldinAnnouncing an enchanting new book, Aware! Brought to you by Sara B. Gauldin, author of the critically acclaimed book, Alive! The world as we know it has become a mask for something far more sinister and only Terra of the Tweens stands between humanity and the hidden evil that seeks to destroy it. But she cannot fight alone. With time running out, fighting a lonely battle against legions of corrupted spirits and her hopes of success waning, she must find a way to warn humanity’s other guiding spirits, and protect her soul mate Liam from the scourge. Will Terra succeed? Will she and Liam have a future together? Will humanity have any future at all? Reenter the world of Terra and Liam and find out in book two of the Corporeal Pull series!Check out this sneak peek from Aware! Introducing the Scourge Master! The distinctive sound of screams echoed down the industrial hall ways. The undulating figure shook with annoyance at the sound of the tortured cries. “Silence that noise!” he bellowed. “Yes master, I will quiet the resistant ones,” said the horribly disfigured soul. "Are you sure we cannot simply destroy them, Master?" “Claw you fool, I can't destroy them. We can maul and disfigure the once human entities. Corporeal trash is ripe for the taking! We can make them long for an end they can never have, but there is no way to destroy a disembodied entity.” A fresh round of screams echoed through the room. “And if they don't see reason Master?” the transparent henchman’s eyes rolled, accentuating their pitch-black appearance as they drifted in their spiritual sockets. “They will join us, or we'll contain them. If they're allowed to roam free, they may try to resist. Not that it would do them any good. I will have no delays. Each human life I take over is one closer to total conversion. This world will be mine!” “What will you do with it?” asked Claw. His remaining appendages scraped the aging tile floor as he edged toward the door. His master would not tolerate his presence for long. “I will bring it to darkness. And those guides in the Tweens will not see it coming!” the Master’s voice raised an octave to a shrill wheeze. “They think they are so high and mighty; the ancient guides overlooking all that human purpose and gawking at all that goes on here on Earth. They think they are infallible, but they can't even recognize the flaw in their design!” The wheezing voice terminated in a maniacal laugh that emulated the effect of nails on a blackboard. “The fools! They have no idea!” Claw attempted to bolster his master’s sudden improvement in mood. “Why don’t they know we are here taking over their charges again? I thought the guides were constantly connected with the thoughts and feeling of every charge they send to a human life?” The Master’s jovial tone evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “You're the fool, Claw. You scuttle around like you understand all that goes on around you. You're clueless! I don’t know why I keep you around.” “My apologies' Master,” Claw cowered at the admonishment. He did not wish to re-live the torment that had left him with misshapen limbs at his master’s hand. He had earned the name he now claimed as his own. “Never mind,” the grey ferment of the Master’s skin rippled over the outline of his face, accentuating his lack of mortal features as he spoke. “The guides cannot see us take their charges because they only look at the Earth through human eyes.” “Right, and humans can’t see an entity without a body normally. Their mind won't let them perceive the spiritual energy around them.” “Or even within them for many,” said the Master. “It's almost too easy! The Guides will never come here. They stay in their comfortable little roost in the Tweens and do the biding of the One. The One; what a joke! Has anyone ever even seen them?” The Master was delighted by the simplicity of his plan. “Why don’t they look for the charges when they lose contact with them?” asked Claw. “I mean when we take the entities from their bodies and replace them; they must wonder why they can't keep contact with them.” “They can’t come here!" said the Master. "That's the best part. Guides get their energy from the One, not converted from the sun like we do on Earth. If they come here they will be used up within minutes. They are as helpless against us as humans!” “It makes me wonder about that scrap of a Scourge that dragged in earlier. He was whining about the Conway family. Saying how there were disembodied entities already there trying to fight back and how the family that hadd been taken was keeping the others out of the house.” “That's happened before,” the Master admitted. His tone grew more menacing as he reflected on the small resistance. “Some newly displaced corporeals that are still all full of human energy think they have a chance against us. I sent my sons to take care of the situation. They should be back any time.” The twins, known only as The Brazen One and The Hidden One had been gone for over a day. Each of the brackish cretans was the pride of their father. Pure unadulterated evil was their sole purpose for existence. For their father, they were the best of what any Scourge follower could aspire to. The purity of their corruption left no room for that annoying spark of humanity that was so difficult to beat down with some of the corporeal entities that were ripped from their bodies. “Yes Master,” said Claw. “I am sure they will take care of the Conway situation.” “Of course they will. See that they report to me as soon as they arrive. I suspect they've found some delicious malice to entertain themselves with on the way.” “Yes Master.” Claw backed toward the door. “And Claw, silence the resistant ones. Those screams can be their last if they no longer have a mouth or throat to scream with!” Claw scuttled through the doorway, relieved to have avoided his master’s fury for the moment. As he shuffled down the winding hallway, he could hear his master slamming the doorway in an attempt to block out the sound. The Master returned to his meditations, but recalling his son’s absence brought unpleasant thoughts to his mind. The followers who had been sent to take the Conway family had been delayed for days. The family should have been an easy target; all that the Scourge entities needed to do was take over one human body at a time until each of the corporeal spirits was removed from the bodies and left adrift on Earth. That was a simple task. Their human eyes could not even see the entities coming for their bodies. How could they prepare against the attack? How could they hope to resist? Yet there were complications. Complications; how could that even happen? Human corporeals had no power over him or his followers. The cloaked figure drifted in short bursts to rest before a large book that lay open upon his desk. His gray moldering fingers gripped the desk as he hovered before the ancient text. There was no mistake. His control over the followers was absolute. “Human free will,” his words were forceful as they wheezed through the flesh covered orifice where his mouth belonged. “No, their will is mine!” A shuddering laugh racked through the figure’s extended frame like a dull tremor.Author Biography: Sara B. Gauldin grew up in a small Virginia town. Her parents taught her to dream big and to reach for her goals. She began writing at a very young age. She spent most of her childhood days dreaming happily.Sara began her career as a computer technician. This profession funded a new pursuit; becoming a teacher. Sara currently works as a full time teacher, an author, a blogger and a part time book blogger. Learn more about Sara Gauldin’s writing by visiting her blog, SEBGwrites! |
Felicia RogersWriting clean romance with laughter and love. Archives
April 2017
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