Senin, 20 Mei 2013

The Dance of the Mystai by Tinnekke Bebout



Genre: New Age




The Dance of the Mystai is an experiential and magickal journey for those wishing to discover the Lunar Mysteries and the ways of Hekate. The book is an organic outgrowth of the work of the author and her Sisters as they have grown and rediscovered the ancient goddess and her rites. Within these pages are a collection of essays, poetry, goddess lore, and practical ideas for growing and living a personal Path based on the Lunar Mysteries.



Excerpt: 

Human life starts with a simple cry, a cry that is universal: the cry for Mother. It means warmth and love and security. It calls for food. It brings a scent indelible in our memories and primeval in our response. It brings the scent of Mother. It’s inexplicable, we just know the smell when we’re around it and barring childhood trauma that disconnected us at an early age, it’s a smell that relaxes us and makes us happy. So the journey begins before we have words for it.

Just as the child longs for Mother before there are words, so we women on our Goddess paths long for Her before we have words for what we seek. There is a sense of not belonging in the world of Father-identified Godhood, a vague unease with the male-only terms for creation, an inner tug that tells us that something more is out there. Someone more is out there. That someone loves us and waits for us. We sing a chant that flows from our lips before we realize it’s a heart-felt cry, “Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” We call for our Mother in baby words, soul words. We are answered as we were as infants, with a feeling of warmth and love as Mother hears us and holds us and reminds us that She was always there waiting for us. And just that quickly, we know—we know why our longing filled us and caused us to journey in a spiritual wilderness away from the known world of FatherGod, through dark places where we questioned our journeys and doubted our inner needs—because out there waiting in the still soft warmth was Goddess just longing for Her daughters to hear the call and call to Her in return. We are suddenly home.

I cannot say with any truthfulness that the journey is always easy. For most women I know, myself included, it was hard. It was a journey fraught with a million temptations and obstacles all designed by the paradigm of the FatherGod to bring us back, either by luring us with treats if we are “Good Girls” or by threatening us with punishment as “Bad Girls”. Many times, these obstacles and lures are all within us; we drank in their existence with our first milk and they were taught to us as simple truths by our parents before we were old enough to think and question. They can make even the most dedicated doubt the journey, even after Goddess has been found.

I remember hearing with great surprise a woman who was an early voice of Goddess Spirituality and deeply respected in the community express the fear and doubt she had when one of her children died suddenly that the FatherGod was punishing her for following the Goddess Path and spreading the word of it to other women. It was a surprise but also a relief. I have had those feelings myself at times for other reasons. The feeling that the FatherGod can always reach out with His long arm and strike us down or the feeling during times of struggle that maybe life would be better and easier if we just returned to the FatherGod is one that hits many women during our journey and even after we have found Goddess.

























Tour Dates  June 12th - 28th
This Tour is for Spotlights, Interviews, and Guest Posts

6/12 - Cu'e e-book Giveaways - Guest Post
6/13 - Tamaria Soana - Interview
6/24 - Indy Book Fairy - Spotlight
6/26 - Reading, Writing, and Roses - Spotlight













Jumat, 17 Mei 2013

Snapshot to Destiny by Christie A. C. Gucker






Willow Reese has always been drawn to photography. So much, that she owns a small photo lab where her customers who haven’t moved into the digital age can still get their film developed.

Her clientele range from grandmothers with photos of grandkids, to morticians with pictures to make you cringe, and one very sexy professional photographer named Spencer, who she’s always been sweet on.

But one day, her whole world shatters when a she finds that a series of photos cause her to have a reaction that will shake the foundation of everything she’s always believed in. Her life will never be the same, not unless she chooses to make it remain as it was destined. 

Can Willow find happiness in what life already has destined for her, or will she change everything that she desires?
  














Fairy Tail by Andrew P Weston





FREE on Amazon June 20th – 22nd

  
For the third year running, a ritualistic serial killer has struck again in the week leading up to Halloween, leaving a gruesome and bloody trail in his wake.

It’s the same every year. One murder every day, until his quotient of seven has been reached. Butchery doesn’t begin to describe what happens to those who he gets his hands on. Then the killer vanishes – only to return twelve months later as merciless as ever.

When he does resurface, he appears to strike randomly and at will. It cannot be established exactly how the killer selects his victims, or why. As such, the detective leading the case is no closer to discovering the identity of the ruthless predator than he was when the slayings began.

It’s only when the detective gets an unexpected break that things get interesting…


Amazon Buy Link







June 20th - 22nd


20th - Tamaria Soana
Viari Rose
Paulette's Papers


21st - Reading, Writing, and Roses
Ella Jade
The Ebook Reviewers
Indy Book Fairy
Sexy Between The Covers


22nd- Kristy Centeno
Krista Ames






Kamis, 16 Mei 2013

Pagan Writers Presents Yule Anthology


FREE on Amazon June 10th– 14th




Come out of the snow and pull up a chair by the roaring fire! The Wheel has turned once more as we look to the morning sky, eyes waiting to welcome the reborn sun.


Yule, also known as the Winter Solstice, was an indication to our early ancestors that the long winter was half over and that they needed to start looking toward the spring planting season. Modern-day celebrants of this sacred Sabbat exchange gifts, feast, and spend time with friends and family.



Pagan Writers Presents Yule is a collection of articles, poetry, songs, and short stories. Thirty-four Pagan writers have come together to express how we celebrate the holiday, to share their thoughts and feelings, and to entertain with stories that take place on or around the Winter Solstice.



Throw off your coat, grab a mug of mulled wine, and join us at the hearth as we tell you about the Sabbat known as Yule.



Pagan Writers Presents Yule is the second anthology in the Pagan Writers Press Sabbat collection.



All proceeds from the sale of this anthology further the mission of the Pagan Writers Community, an organization that seeks to educate, inspire, and promote artists, authors, bloggers, musicians, poets, and writers who follow alternative-faith spiritual and religious paths.




Pagan Writers Presents Samhain (Free on Amazon Tour)





Samhain marks the end of summer and the preparation for winter. To many, Samhain is merely Halloween, but to Pagans, it is a day when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, and we can reconnect with our beloved deceased. Samhain is a joyful celebration where we invite the spirits of our loved ones into our homes to remember and honor them.

Pagan Writers Presents Samhain is a collection of articles, poetry, and short stories. Forty Pagan writers have come together to express how we celebrate the holiday, to share their thoughts and feelings, and to entertain with stories that take place on or around the last week of October.

Leave your broom by the door and join us at the hearth as we tell you about the Sabbat known as Samhain.

Pagan Writers Presents Samhain is the first anthology in the Pagan Writers Press Sabbat collection.

All proceeds from the sale of this anthology further the mission of the Pagan Writers Community, an organization that seeks to edu­cate, inspire, and pro­mote artists, authors, blog­gers, musi­cians, poets, and writers who follow alternative-faith spiritual and religious paths.













Senin, 13 Mei 2013

Reconaissance: Book 2 of Paradise Reclaimed by Aubrie Dionne



Genre: YA Science Fiction


Nova Williams has lost her one shot at Lieutenanthood and at love. Lieutenant Crophaven has promoted her rival, Andromeda, all because her lifemate, Sirius, sacrificed their mission to win back Andromeda’s love.

While sneaking out to prove Andromeda is a fake, Nova finds an alien ship hovering over their colony. Lieutenant Crophaven assigns her to a reconnaissance mission, giving her a second chance to redeem herself. Sirius must fly her and a research team to the vessel to decide if they are a threat. Thrown together with the lifemate that betrayed her, she battles with her own jealousy while her team battles for their lives.

Can she forgive Sirius in order to save her team and warn her colony?








Excerpt:
A drone, as deep and low as the growl of a primordial beast, resonated in my gut and I yanked my hand away. My heart sped like someone had fired a starter gun to a race, and my chest tightened until I couldn’t breathe.

That blaring blasphemy wasn’t from my ship.

The sound tapered off, leaving me in silence. I stared at the bones, wondering if I’d imagined it, or if I should hide here in the ruins in case the sound came back.

What am I doing? I’m a team expedition leader, for crying out loud!

I pulled myself back together. Everyone else was attending the ceremony on the ship. The thick hull, designed to protect us from deep space, blocked all sounds from the outside world. I was the only one who would have heard it. The only one who could investigate. I thought about going back for help, but every second I delayed, the source of the sound could disappear. Besides, I didn’t want the credit taken away from me. Not this time.

I scrambled to the window and climbed over the ledge, throwing myself down so fast my ankles exploded in pain. Cursing, I hobbled up the embankment of the excavation site. The sound boomed around me, vibrating the crystals underneath my feet. I fell to my knees and covered my ears. It reminded me of warping metal, growling monsters, and screeching alarms all at the same time.

The sound came from the jungle. I pulled myself up the incline and peered over the edge. A dry, fiery breeze blew my hair back, and I looked above the rustling canopy.

My heart stammered then beat into a frenzy. A massive ring of a ship, twice as large as the New Dawn, hovered over the jungle. Spires jutted from the top and the bottom, like a two-sided pin cushion. Blinking reddish lights adorned the ends. The hull was a dull gray shield of impenetrable metal with no sight panels or markings of any kind.

The buzzing sound made my eardrums throb. I pressed my nose up against the crystal ledge and peered over as my whole body shook. The lowest spire, thick as a nuclear reactor, lengthened from the belly of the ship until the tip hovered a meter from the jungle canopy. A trap door opened, and a beam of white light seared a hole in the foliage. The smell of burnt vines choked my throat, and I cowered against the side of the ledge.

I have to warn the ship.





Tour Dates June 10th - 29th



6/10 - Brooke Blogs
6/11 - Tara Len Walker
6/12 - Viari Rose








Sign up here to Host this Tour

Sabtu, 11 Mei 2013

Skarlet Kiss by Elise Whyles

Genre: Romance, Paranormal

The Forsaken Series, Book 5

Can one who served the enemy find love in the arms of a condemned man?

Una has spent her life serving Amuliana, the goddess of immortals. Now she stands on the brink of a change, one that can her give back the life she lost to Amuliana's meddling. But the change that comes will shatter the peaceful existence she knows and give her a new understanding of love and life. Unbeknownst to Una, her ancestors were the Forsaken, immortals who were cast out for the crime of a jealous vampire general.

Liam, an outcast among the dragon clans, has spent centuries seeking the one who condemned him for a crime he did not commit. When he comes face to face with Una, he must make a difficult choice—seek revenge or save a pure heart from the darkness threatening their worlds.

The dragon warrior and the human girl will unite to face enemies they've never experienced as a fallen vampire general's army stalks them. As Una gains strength, her immortal gifts are returned and she becomes a threat to the imprisoned general who's seeking power over the immortal world. He can't afford to let Una survive, because her life will ultimately cost him his.

Together, Liam and Una must fight their way back to the vampire world and the safety offered by her sister. Can love survive amid the treachery and danger, or has Liam finally found his mate only to lose her to the evil plaguing their worlds?

Content Warning: explicit sex, emotional torment, graphic violence



Excerpt:

Thick, rolling clouds kept the air moist as Liam paced the confines of his home. Ice covered the stone walls, snow swirled and danced along the floor of the cave. He shivered, the rattle of scales music to his ears. After two hundred years, he was finally able to break out of the horrid humanoid form.

Padding to the mouth of his cave, he stared out. White clouds soared around the mountain's peak. Snow danced along the ledge, piling where it was easiest. The air was cold, crisp, sweet, much as it had been when he'd grown up in the Highlands.

He tapped his claws against the stone, his eyes searching through the mist, for what he did not know. The need to search, to find an answer to the elusive want had plagued him for days, disturbing his hunting, his rest. Nights were filled with the image of a female, her hair flowing over her shoulders, wide, trust filled eyes staring at him. Her hands outstretched, reaching toward him. The visage tickled at his memory of another woman, one dressed as a slave, following the footsteps of a vampire…one he'd feared.

Curling his tail around himself, he settled on his haunches, shoulders hunched against the chill as he stared out over the human realm. Faint, his hunger stirred. Soon he'd need to hunt, both for food and for the one who had done him ill. The sharp point of his tail beat a slow, steady rhythm against the floor as he tilted his head, listening to the howling winds, the bitter screams of the winter weather, and the elusive sound of a beating heart.

* * * *

"Do not dawdle, Una, our time grows short." Harsh, bitter, Anagor's voice scraped along her nerves as she hurried through the stone corridor. Stale air and dust sat in her throat, gagging her as she scurried among the debris. The sound of claws on stone sent shivers up her spine as some unseen vermin darted from her path. The heavy cloak she wore hid the shimmering fabric of her priestess robes but did little to battle the cold soaking through to her flesh.

"'Tis cold, this place we are being sent." Una shivered and ducked beneath a heavy beam. Her hand pressed against the icy stone as she struggled to maintain her balance on the uneven ground.

"You may think so."

Anagor's sneer pricked at the ready temper she'd struggled to control. Biting her lip, she kept the sharp retort to herself. She glanced up, her gaze falling on the thick wooden door Anagor stood before. He grinned as he gripped the handle and pulled. Dust and pebbles rained down as it creaked and groaned in protest before scraping along the ground to open. Shock ripped through Una as the pale streak of light spread along the frozen ground, wrapping around her with its icy chill.

Snow slapped at the ground, swirling in a maelstrom of white. It blew through the portal into the opening, piling around her sandal clad feet. Teeth chattering, she rubbed at her arms as Anagor stepped back, reaching for her cloak, all but shoving her into the freezing air.

"Duty does not wait for one who whines," he snapped, his grip tightening around her arm.

Bitter winds lashed at her dress, whipping the fabric around her legs. Her cheeks and toes burned, and fog formed in front of her with every breath. Her skin tightened, prickles of heat dancing along the surface. Wrapping her arms around herself, she fought to ward off the chill even as she felt it sinking deeper into her skin.

"My lord, I would hurry, but this wind…it is so cold, I fear I'll freeze."

"Nonsense. Amuliana would not send you forth to freeze. You have served her well."

Una stumbled, her hand catching at Anagor. Pain ripped through her, shredding her heart as she wavered, yet it wasn't her pain. Rather, it was his. His pale eyes stared at her, hate stirring in them, along with something else. Something terrifying.

Backing away from him, Una trembled. Her fingers clutched at her clothes, wrapping them tighter around her. Each step back she took, he advanced two, his eyes fastened on her throat. He grinned, a merciless expression which revealed blackened nubs for teeth and puss filled gums.

"What is this?" Una swallowed, the rising fear pushing any thought but escape from her mind.

"My penance has waited too long, Una. I will have what I seek this night." Anagor licked his lips, his eyes darkening with hunger.

Buy Links:  Beachwalk Press

Watch the Series Trailer:





About the Author:

Born in a small community, Elise Whyles lives in Canada with her son and husband. She’s currently working on the next book in the Canadian Heros Trilogy as well as the next book in the paranormal romance series Forsaken. Elise writes in multiple genres, paranormal, contemporary, erotic, m/m. To learn more about her or to drop her a note please stop by her website.


Author Links:        Site     Twitter    Facebook



~Giveaway~

Elise is giving away to one lucky winner an E-book copy of Books 1- 5 of The Forsaken Series. 

For a chance to win fill out the Rafflecopter below.


















Tour Dates June 1st - 30th
This Tour is for Spotlights only!
11th - Ella Jade
13th - Melissa Keir
13th - Viari Rose




Beauty in the Breakdown by E. L. Esch


Genre: Romance/ M/M


Luke Martin Cleary isn't out of the closet to his brother, and that's always been okay since he isn't involved. Then he meets Rowan, a fragile man with a dark past and one hot body. But Rowan's heart and body are broken and guarded, and it's going to take a lot of love to touch someone so completely untouchable. Literally.

Rowan Wilheim Nails is a man in pain. Ever since an abusive falling out with his ex-boyfriend, he's developed a phobia of being touched by another person--a phobia of being hurt again. So when Luke and Rowan meet at a bar and end up at Luke's apartment later on, Rowan is skeptical of spending the night in Luke's bed. There's only one thing he can do to make touching Luke's skin bearable--get drunk.

Luke hates Rowan's coping method, but how can he help change it when he doesn't understand Rowan's situation? By getting involved, he decides, even if that means divulging his secret to his brother. And so Luke begins breaking Rowan and his walls down, slowly and tenderly and maybe a little more roughly in the bedroom, but definitely without hurting him again. No matter how long it takes or how untouchable Rowan claims to be, Luke is determined to heal Rowan so that one day there'll be nothing between their hearts but each other's skin.
  • Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: male/male sexual practices.


Excerpt:

I often wonder things. I often wonder things that, once upon a time, people would have been sent to asylums for thinking. Now people can think whatever they like, and the worst they’ll get is a cross look. That’s a good thing, though, for someone like me.

Now let me say this first—I’m dying. “We both are. You’ll understand someday.” At least that’s what I’ve been told. That’s why I suppose I’m wondering things now. I’m wondering things that, once upon a time, people would have been sent to asylums for thinking.

For instance, if I muse over what the flesh of another human being tastes like, does that make me a cannibal? If I think the world needs to change no matter the cost, does that make me a terrorist? If for some reason I know we, he and I, are both dying but refuse to elaborate on how, does that make me a criminal?

These are just thoughts, though. No harm, right? Not anymore. Not today. However, everything evolves from thought: danger, peace, love, hate, change, everything.

Maybe I’m just getting dramatic because I’m dying. “We both are. You’ll understand someday.” Or maybe it’s just that I’m confused by the fact that I’m dying when I feel fine.

Why would I be confused? Simply, it’s because of him. He’s the reason for all of these thoughts.

He is a slim, nimble young man, maybe in his midtwenties. He’s a pretty normal character, except that he makes me think things that, once upon a time, people would have been sent to asylums for thinking. He’s beautiful and fair-skinned and gentle and shy. He has a problem with people touching his body, and he gets harassed for it. Around his eyes sit horn-rimmed glasses, just the right fit over his elegant nose and cheeks, protecting the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Capping his head is wispy, soft, and naturally untamable hair of a color I likened to that of a dingy fire. His hands aren’t large, but they aren’t small either, with slender fingers that match the knobbiness of his hips and shoulders perfectly. He is him, and God did he make me think.

When I asked him his name, his thin, pale lips curved into a smile, and I suppose what he said in response started all these thoughts. “I’m dying. We both are. You’ll understand someday.”

If at that moment I wondered what his skin tasted like, did that make me a creep? Did that make me wrong or a sinner or a breaker of taboo? If at that moment I wanted to change myself, did it make me a terrorist to my own conscience? Or did it just make me a fool?

“Wait!” I remember myself calling out to him, to that majestic creature who made me think. I was confused then too. Maybe he really was dying. Maybe we all were somehow, but I didn’t care.

He stopped and turned halfway. “Yes?”

He was a contortionist, I’d thought then. He had to be.

“I want to know your name,” I’d repeated. I think I’d smiled too, but recalling it makes me feel rather stupid so I can’t say I’m sure I did.

“Rowan.”

“Ah, an olden name.” I did smile then.

“Yours?”

“Luke.”

“Also olden.” And then he shook his head and stared at me up through his eyelashes. “I told you, I’m dying.”

“I heard.”

“But you asked my name.”

“Yes.”

He paused. “Get a drink with me, stranger?”

“Stranger?”

“Luke.”

“Yes.”

It was the only instance since I’d met Rowan that I didn’t think. I just took him by the arm and let him lead me down the street like we were a happy couple.

I think I realized then—I was a terrorist, a sinner, a criminal, a fool, and even a bit of a creep. The only thing I wasn’t was a cannibal, but that still didn’t stop me from thinking thoughts that, once upon a time, people would have been sent to asylums for thinking.

* * *

“So, Luke, do you let yourself get picked up by strangers often?”

He kept saying “stranger.” “No. Much less…”

“Men?”

I laughed, and I couldn’t help it. Much, much less men, but the way Rowan put it, flat and blunt, was hilarious. Or maybe the fact that it was the truth, the bizarre, unlikely truth, was what made it funny.

We were sitting at a bar, the one I’d seen him in front of. The name I didn’t recognize, but Rowan seemed familiar with the place. Naturally it smelled of liquor, but there was another scent on the air that I couldn’t place. It was thick and heavy and toxic, a bit dangerous and kind of exciting. I liked it.

“Luke, then,” Rowan said suddenly, tracing the edge of his glass with his forefinger. He was drinking ouzo, and the very sight of it made me anxious. This man was obviously planning to get drunk, where my malt whisky would give me a light buzz at most.

I ordered another.

“Luke?” Rowan touched my shoulder, my knee, but never my skin.

“Yes?”

“Luke. It’s Greek, did you know? It means ‘from Lucania,’ a region of Italy. Are you Italian?”

Somewhat startled by this man’s vat of knowledge, I shook my head. “Maybe, maybe not. I never cared to find out. What about you, Rowan?”

He laughed. “It means red-haired and rugged, nothing interesting.”

It was interesting to me, but I didn’t press the subject. Both Rowan and I knew what was going on. We knew where that night would end, or at least I thought we did. This prattle about name origins was just a conversation starter, a fire kindler. I could guess this from the ouzo, yet another thing Greek.

“Rowan…” I took a swig of my Scotch, hoping it would make the question easier. “Are you really…dying?”

“We both are.”

“Okay…”

Rowan chuckled, a low sound deep in his throat. He fumbled with the edge of his glass again, finding a nick and pulling back his hand with a start. “Yes, I’m dying. I was diagnosed with death.”

“With death?”

“It’s not cancer or anything like that. It is what it is. It’s death. I just know it is.”

Was this man a seer of some sort? A psychic? Or was he just playing with me? No, he didn’t seem the type for that.

“Just death? That simple?”

Much to my surprise, he nodded. Nodded! Death wasn’t simple! Yet I forced myself to let it go. Maybe it was personal and he just didn’t want to talk about it. There were a lot of maybes when it came to this guy.

“So why ouzo?”

“Ouzo.” Rowan smiled down at his reflection in the bar top. “Because I don’t like being touched.”

At this I was gravely insulted. Who wouldn’t be? “Then why did you ask me—”

“For a drink? Because I wanted to.”

My expression must have been ridiculous, for Rowan laughed long and hard.

“Don’t look that way. It’s not you. I have a psychological problem. I just don’t like being touched.”

“Then why—”

“So I don’t realize it.”

“Ah.” Did strangers usually tell each other about their psychological issues? I was beginning to think this man, who had gone with me, sat down, and planned on getting happy-ass drunk, and I were going through some demented kind of therapy session. Who the therapy was for, I couldn’t tell.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Rowan’s hand was on my knee again, but not my skin. “If I don’t realize it, why even bother?”

“Something like that.” I nodded. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Because.“ Rowan’s hair fell in front of his glasses.

His nose was pointed down again so I couldn’t see his face, and it worried me. Something dark and unwanted loomed over the man’s shoulders then, something I couldn’t help but want to shoo away. I couldn’t, though, because I didn’t know how.

“I want to get over it.” Rowan lifted his head. “I don’t want to die until my time.”

I tried not to look confused. “If you want to get over it…” I stood, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. ”Let the drink sit, and come home with me.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. He looked as if he stared death square in the face that very moment. All of a sudden his prim, orderly demeanor vanished. “I…I can’t. Let a dying man have a drink and wait, won’t you?”

“No.” I snaked a hand into Rowan’s dull-fire hair. He twitched but didn’t pull away, probably because I never touched his skin. He had a piercing, I noticed then. A single, simple, silver ball embedded in the lobe of his right ear. It flashed with the reflection of my hand as I stroked his hair behind his ear to get a better look. The bartender shot me warning glares, but I didn’t care. Who was she, this lanky girl with her brown hair up in curls and a beer in each hand, to tell me what to do? “No,” I repeated, forcefully this time. “Because you’re not dying. We’re not dying. I say so.”

What gave me the right to say so? Nothing, but I said so anyway.

“You’re gonna stop death?” Rowan folded his arms and looked at me with such sharply intense eyes that I would have backed off if not for the way he tilted his head into my fingers.

I shrugged. Screw it. I was lost, puzzled, a bit upset, and a terrorist, a fool, a sinner, a criminal, and even a bit of a creep. Why couldn’t I stop death too? “Sure, for you.”

Long and hard, Rowan laughed. So did I, although I didn’t understand why.

“Even so.” The gloom leeching off Rowan seemed to have disappeared. “I still need my drink.”

“Only if you tell me how we’re both supposedly dying.”

“We’re not. We’re healing, hopefully, though we both still might die.”

“Everyone does.”

“Yes.” Rowan smiled. “I’m glad you understand.”

“You know…” I sat back down with a sigh, scratching my head. God, did Rowan make me think. “You know,” I started. “You could have just asked me out for drinks.”

“Nah.” Rowan shook his head, taking a nice, long draught of ouzo and winking sidelong at me. The empty glass hit the bar with a clatter and an almost suffocated sigh. “Because then you wouldn’t have understood why I asked you.”

“Strangers and a couple of drinks, it’s not that uncommon.” Damn, now I’msaying “stranger.”

“No.” Rowan called for another glass of alcohol.

My jaw almost dropped. Happy-ass drunk, I thought. Beyond happy-ass drunk.

“Luke and Rowan,” Rowan continued. “Neither strangers nor common.”

“Then I’ll make sure I have a bucket for you in the morning.” I snickered, eying his second glass. “And a nice long lecture about how we’re not going to die.”

“I never really was dying, you know. And hopefully I have quite some time before I do. You too.” The expression on Rowan’s face was fantastic—devilish and gentle; sly and weary; uncertain yet fearless.

So I wasn’t dying, then. Well, not anytime soon. Neither was Rowan, the clever bastard. But that didn’t mean the sneaky man could ever make me stop thinking thoughts that, once upon a time, were asylum-worthy thoughts.

Buy Links:    Amazon          Barnes & Noble         Loose Id

About The Author:
I can mostly be found staring into the screen of my PC or laptop into all hours of the night, hyped on caffeinated soda and likely procrastinating something important by losing at Internet Checkers or browsing the web (The day I win a game of Internet Checkers is the day I can write more than a few pages at once without procrastinating). When I'm not doing that, I'm either out being my nerdy self or, of course, writing. I've been writing since the fourth grade, and have no plans to stop. To me, one of the greatest pleasures in life is being able to create worlds and characters whose lives I can share with others.

Author Links:     Website     Facebook   DeviantArt    Blog


~Giveaway~
E.L. Esch is giving away a digital copy of Beauty in the Breakdown during her tour. To enter just fill out the Rafflecopter below.









Tour Dates May 27th - June 14th
This Tour is for Spotlights only.



5/27 - Ella Jade 
6/5 - Viari Rose


Tour Closed









The Plan by Imogene Nix

Genre:   Romance



What happens when wrong and right collide amidst indescribable passion?

Jonah Fielding has been brought in to clean up the Department of Authority on Centauri. In the course of his work, he captures Kadie Frost, the young woman who managed to escape his sting operation. Kadie, an orphan, now almost destitute illegal parts runner, is shocked to find herself falling for the man who arrested her.

Jonah's world is one that Kadie doesn't understand and fears. When he offers her a deal, she agrees to help him with the investigation. Now they must fight an impossible attraction, find the bad guys, and along the way they'll even end up getting married…purely for the sake of the case, of course.

In the middle of upheaval they find themselves surprised by the scorching promise of passion while bewildered at how it all went awry. The clock is ticking and anything can happen next. Will they survive when work and pleasure collide?

Content Warning: This book contains a sexy, hot man in uniform and a wayward, hotheaded woman, as well as lots of adventure of the futuristic and bedroom variety.




Excerpt:

The man that arrested her, Captain Jonah Fielding, she had heard of. A straight man, everyone agreed. He didn't associate with the old, corrupt Authorities. But at this point that's cold comfort. How can I possibly explain that I have nothing else except my little Sugar Plum Fairy and that's why I took the chance? Her stomach rebelled and she dry heaved right there in the cells as catcalls and laughter from other prisoners filled the air. Thank the Lights at least I am in a single cell. Her head ached brutally and she wavered slightly, waiting for Captain Fielding to send for her.

"Kadie Frost? Captain Fielding wants to see you." The clank of the cell door told her someone was coming; she struggled to her feet, lifting tired, sore eyes.

A young man, little more than a boy really, with a freshly pressed uniform marched in, unfastened her from the restraint loop, and pulled her out the door and into an anonymous corridor.

Hoots and hollers met her ears as she allowed herself to be paraded down the long walkway. As if cattle in a moon-cow yard, she thought, closing her eyes as the Authority man pulled her toward a heavy, metal door at the end of the corridor. He stopped there and she opened her eyes, reading the sign on the door.

Interrogation Room One. What a great name, she thought snidely. Really inventive.

The door opened slowly and she was quickly thrust inside. The door snapped shut behind her as she looked around the bare room. A table and two chairs sat, scarred and ugly, in the middle of the floor. The metal was cold and glittering in the cool air as the air circulators pushed currents around the frigid room. She made her way over and sat down, waiting for the captain to enter. Her head drooped to the table and she let it rest, seeking the refreshing cool on her overly hot skin.

Her hands stung and her eyes burned. She felt sorry for herself as she thought about the mess she had gotten into, and she turned her stinging hands to check the damage. They were bright red and radiated heat. The deep scratches were swollen and weepy; sticky drops of goop coated the raw skin. Never a good sign, she already knew that.

"Kadie Frost?"

She started. Obviously, the woolly, heavy feeling in her head had overtaken her and she had dropped off to sleep as she waited. Her skin burned against in the coolness of the room.

"That's me." Her head hurt viciously, but now she realized her throat burned too.

"Captain Fielding is my name. I believe you and I can discuss BXM parts?" He lifted an eyebrow and she noted the captain had the most amazing blue eyes she had ever seen, teamed with long, black hair fastened at the back of his neck, high cheeks, and impossibly chiseled features. He had full, pink lips that would make a woman cry when they moved over hers.Huh? Where did that thought come from?

She blinked, dazed by the thought, and considered her plan of attack. "What? Oh, the BXM parts." She swallowed and felt the razor blades she was sure were in her neck slashing from the inside which then proceeded to burn. "They aren't mine. They never were."



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About the Author:  

Imogene is a mother of two, compulsive reader, and bookstore owner. She lives in regional Queensland, Australia with her husband, two daughters, dog, cats, guinea pigs, and chooks. She has a particular fondness for vampires, star ship captains, and things that go bump in the night (especially vampire types).

Imogene has tried many varied roles in her working life including kindergarten assistant, teacher, principal, and kindergarten and child care director, but rates owning a bookstore and writing her own novels as the absolute highlight.

In her mother and wife alter ego, she has travelled widely and lived in some very unique places including Far Western Queensland, Cape York, and even Tasmania. She loves to travel and rates China and Hong Kong among her favorite destinations.

She blames Star Trek Voyager, Firefly, and the works of Alexander Kent for her interest in naval activities and later space fleet interest.



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 Tour Dates May 22nd - June 12th
This Tour is for Spotlights only.









Tour Closed