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Author Interview with Petie McCarty

5/31/2015

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I'd like to welcome Petie McCarty to my blog! She's the author of contemporary romance / military romance "The SEAL's Angel".


Q: Please tell us about yourself.  
 

Thank you for allowing me to spend time with the Cassidy Crimson's Blog followers today. My name is Petie McCarty, and I write contemporary romance.
 

I suspect I'm different than most authors in that I never considered writing anything until I actually started my first novel, and that was as much a surprise to me as anyone. With my first two novels, I decided a unique venue was sure to set my love story apart from the other 500,000+ romance novels on Amazon. So, in Everglades, I stranded my hero and heroine aboard an airboat overnight, deep in the River of Grass, and then in Catch of the Day, I made my heroine the first woman to ever enter the all-male Loon Lake Tournament.
 

By the time I started the third book, I decided my novels needed a shtick -- a gimmick or brand to make them stand out. I thought it would be fun to hide an angel in my story to help the hero and heroine end up together, and then not reveal the angel’s identity until the finale. Thus, my Mystery Angel Romances were born.

 


Q: Tell us about your book  
 

My April release, The SEAL's Angel, is the third Mystery Angel Romance. The MARs are not so much a series as they are a similarly themed or plotted group of stories. The cast of characters are different in each story, but each novel is similar in that an angel has been hidden within the plot, waiting for the reader to discover their identity. The angel is not officially revealed until the finale unless the reader determines it first. So all the stories are stand-alone books.

In The SEAL's Angel, Navy SEAL Sean MacKay's teammate is murdered after stealing a deadly nerve-gas formula from Syrian terrorists. Naval Intelligence believes MacKay's teammate was a traitor and shipped the stolen formula to his sister in the states for safekeeping. MacKay is given orders to find the sister before the terrorists do and to retrieve the stolen formula at all costs. 

Foreclosure looms for Cory Rigatero as she fights to keep her rustic resort near Mt. St. Helens afloat after her brother deserted her to join the SEAL Teams. Cory's whole world dives into a tailspin when Sean MacKay shows up at her resort with the news of her brother's death and the wild suspicion her brother may have sent her traitorous classified documents. No way will Cory trust MacKay -- the man who once seduced her and then vanished into the night without a trace.

 


Q: What inspired you to write The SEAL's Angel?

Special Forces soldiers are to present-day romance and action/adventure movies what cowboys were to the big screen back when I was a kid. Fearless, larger-than-life characters who will always, always protect the damsel in distress -- whether she wants to be rescued or not.

When I saw the original movie in my imagination for The SEAL's Angel , the heroine's brother had deserted her and the family resort to join the military. Later, he is murdered for stealing a nerve-gas formula from terrorists, so the soldier had to serve with some branch of Special Forces to be involved in espionage at that level. Having a co-worker at my day job be an ex-Navy SEAL Lieutenant willing to answer my myriad of questions about The Teams merely "sealed" the fate of my TSA hero.  


Q: How much time per week do you spend writing/editing your work?  

Anywhere from 40 to 80 hours a week depending on where I am at with my stories, because I'm usually writing one and editing another. The eighty-hour weeks probably occur while I'm going though the editing process for a book.

 
Q: What are you working on at the moment? 

 My current WIP is a time-travel romance titled Duke Du Jour. In DDJ, the fourteenth Duke of Reston falls into a fountain in an overgrown section of his ancestral estate and wakes up in 1816 England, mistaken for his great-great-and-so-on grandfather -- the seventh Duke of Reston who disappeared at the Battle of Waterloo. This one is colored with quirky humor and is a blast to write. *grin*

I also have another new series in the hopper, and the brand will be The Cinderella Romances... Fall in love with the fairy tale all over again. Luckily, there will be unlimited opportunities to retell the famous fairy tale in different locales with different heroines playing the part of Cinderella. How fun to get to retell the fairy tale a dozen different ways. Sometimes the reader will know who the Prince Charming is at the get go, and sometimes they won't. That will make each fairy tale unique.

 The first story -- Cinderella Busted -- is complete. The romantic fairy tale moves to present-day Jupiter Island, Florida where a beautiful gardener is mistaken for a wealthy socialite by a billionaire resort developer. Anxious for one fabulous date with her handsome prince, the gardener cultivates her inadvertent masquerade. Love at first sight controls their mutual attraction, and feelings run deep before her deception is inevitably discovered. This story is presently under review for publication, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

 

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About the Book

Title: The SEAL’s Angel

Author: Petie McCarty

Genre: Contemporary Romance / Military

Navy SEAL Sean MacKay’s teammate is murdered after stealing a deadly nerve-gas formula from Syrian terrorists. Naval Intelligence believes MacKay’s teammate was a traitor and shipped the stolen formula to his sister in the states for safekeeping. MacKay is given orders to find the sister before the terrorists do and to retrieve the stolen formula at all costs.

Foreclosure looms for Cory Rigatero as she fights to keep her rustic resort near Mt. St. Helens afloat after her brother deserted her to join the SEAL Teams. Cory’s whole world dives into a tailspin when Sean MacKay shows up at her resort with the news of her brother’s death and the wild suspicion her brother may have sent her traitorous classified documents. No way will Cory trust MacKay — the man who once seduced her and then vanished into the night without a trace.

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Author Bio

Petie spent a large part of her career working as a biologist at Walt Disney World — “The Most Magical Place on Earth” — where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night. She eventually said good-bye to her “day” job in order to write her stories full-time.

Petie is a member of Romance Writers of America, and she shares homes in Tennessee and Florida with her horticulturist husband, a spoiled-rotten English Springer spaniel addicted to pimento-stuffed green olives, and a noisy Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in Angel to the Rescue.

Links

Visit Petie’s social media links:

Web Site:  http://www.petiemccarty.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/petie.mccarty

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6094579.Petie_McCarty?from_search=true

Buy the Book:

Amazon  or B&N

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Book Excerpt from Mothering through Bipolar

5/29/2015

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Book Excerpt

 The night I started to feel better, Dan was rocking our 10 month old Emmie to sleep. The other children were already in bed and my oldest was spending the night at a friend’s house. I had just got done journaling as I do every night before bed. Then I made my way first to our girl’s bedroom, I sat on the edge of Gracie Macie’s bed and stroked her hair as she slept. Silent tears were streaming down my face. I thought back over the last five years of our lives and all the mistakes and mess ups I had made along the way. How horrible of a parent I had become in such a short amount of time. I realized that my downhill spiral did not just happen that year, but had begun years before – most likely in my teens, but had progressively gotten worse as I got older. All the stress, triggers, the changes and responsibilities added throughout the years only made my bipolar worse and it was only a matter of time before I exploded.

I then thought about how much I loved, adored and cared for my children. How I would do everything in my power to protect them. Project them from the horrifying side of my illness. My thoughts drifted to how they were the reason that I needed to fight through this and do whatever it took to be as stable as possible. It was for them, not for me, but for my children. That my children were the most important reason for me to do whatever I could to hold it together. That the depression, no matter how debilitating it was, was not going to lie to me any longer. That the depression was not going to make me believe that my children were better off without me. I kissed Macie gently on the forehead, climbed the ladder to kiss Lizzie Girl and walked out of their room.

Next I went into the boy’s bedroom. I sat next to Josh for a long time. My illness had probably affected him the most. I had not bonded with him the way I had my other children. His life had been filled with chaos and a very distant mother who took most of her verbal aggression out on him. My tears weren’t as silent this time. I tried hard to keep the tone down. I didn’t want him to wake up scared because Mommy was sitting on his bed crying. I ran my fingers through his hair, ran a finger down his cheek and just watched him sleep for a long time. I knew I messed up with him. Now I needed to figure out how to fix it. I kiss him on his forehead and then kissed Andrew. I took one last look back at Joshua, promising myself I would make him feel loved no matter what it took.

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About the Book

Title: Mothering Through Bipolar

Author: Rebecca Moore

Genre: Memoir

Mothering Through Bipolar is Rebecca’s journey of living with Bipolar Disorder while raising a family of seven children. She takes her readers on an adventure through depression, mania, legal issues, relationship problems and other difficulties. Rebecca offers her readers encouragement, comfort and support; always with a message of hope.

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Author Bio

Rebecca Moore has been diagnosed with everything from Postpartum Depression to Bipolar Disorder. Rebecca enjoys writing about surviving her journey through mental health and likes to help others who have been there as well. She is a strong Mental Health Advocate for parents living with mental illness. Rebecca is also the CEO of her nonprofit organization, Bipolar Parenting Foundation. She also runs a column on PsychCentral called Bipolar Parenting. Rebecca lives in Northeastern Pennsylvania with her husband and seven children.

“We must break down the wall of shame society has built for us” – Rebecca Moore in Mothering Through Bipolar

 

Links

http://embracingmadness.com/

https://www.facebook.com/rebeccamooreauthor

https://twitter.com/authorRmoore

Buy Mothering Through Bipolar:

Amazon:     Amazon

Barnes and Noble:    B&N

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Book Excerpt from Trespass

5/28/2015

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Book Excerpt

 3,500 BC

WAECCAN WAS OLD—unnaturally so, some said. He slept an old man’s fitful sleep, riddled with disconnected dreams, muddled with distant memories. But tonight it is not his dreams that disturb him, but something real—something alive, something close.

Waeccan snapped awake, lurched upright, called out into the darkness. “Who’s there? Father? Is it you?”

No answer.

Waeccan shivered. What had woken him? What had he heard? He shook his head to rouse himself, dispel the confusion of waking. It didn’t help. He was drained, couldn’t think properly, hadn’t been able to for days—not since…

His father’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “No, my son. Don’t think of that. Don’t let fear steal your thoughts.”

“No, Father.” But he had heard something. Something nearby. Whispering or rustling, like someone wading through dead leaves.

“Hold your breath, Waeccan, listen.”

Silence. If he could hear it again, he could identify it. An animal perhaps; the pounce of a night hunter, the scrabbling of its prey. He’d often heard these sounds on nights as still as this. So why was he so afraid?

The answer pushed itself to the front of Waeccan’s weary mind—it was him; the stranger, the intruder, the sinister interloper who’d slipped secretly into Waeccan’s world. It was no use denying it. Waeccan shuddered. Who was the intruder, and why had he come to torment him? Waeccan did not know, but one thing he had discovered—the intruder was inhumanly stealthy. He could easily have crept close, could even have stolen into his hut as he slept. Waeccan rubbed his eyes, scanned anxiously for any sign of trespass. Moonlight shone through the hut’s doorway, threw mischievous shadows onto the stone walls. There was nothing out of place. But that proved nothing, gave no comfort. What should he do?

“Father? Father, I…”

“Shh, Waeccan. Listen again. Close your eyes. Focus your senses, as I taught you. Listen.”

Waeccan tried. Despite his fear he closed his eyes, let his breathing slow and allowed the ambience of his familiar world to wash over him, flow through him. There was nothing. All was as it should be. Waeccan opened his eyes. Whatever had woken him was no longer nearby. Or so he hoped.



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About the Book

Title: Trespass

Author: Mikey Campling

Genre: Science Fiction / Fantasy

Three stories, separated by five thousand years, united by one deadly secret:

Somewhere, sometime, the stone is waiting.

Trespass combines gritty, edgy modern-day action with a thrilling adventure across time. Discovered over 5,000 years ago, the Darkeningstone affects everyone who finds it.

Jake was too smart to believe the rumours about Scaderstone Pit, but now he’s in more danger than he could ever have imagined.

In 1939, as World War II looms, the lives of two men will be changed forever.

Over 5,000 years ago, a hermit will keep the stone a secret. But someone is watching him – someone with murder in his heart.

When it finds you, what will you see when you look into The Darkeningstone?

 

Author Bio

Mikey grew up in North Yorkshire, but he refuses to be classified according to Northern stereotypes, which is just the sort of bloody-minded attitude you’d expect from a Yorkshireman.  During his first day at school, he discovered the wondrous world that is The Book Corner, and he has never really left it.

He now lives in Devon, on the edge of the wilds of Dartmoor, with his wife, two children, and a black Labrador called Lottie who will only bark when she’s asleep. And lots and lots of books.

You can find out more on Mikey’s website: mikeycampling.com

You can also get two free books, free audio stories and free artwork by joining his mailing list at: mikeycampling.com/giveaway


Links

http://mikeycampling.com/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1HasOec

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/trespass-mikey-campling/1121808825?ean=9781620157268

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Book Excerpt from Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire

5/27/2015

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Book Excerpt

 “Sir?” Brash Fornight gradually became aware that someone behind him in the grocery checkout line was trying to get his attention. “Sir?” He refocused and glanced behind him. The woman leaning on a cart overflowing with chip bags and cookie boxes nodded toward the cashier indicating that it was his turn to move forward. Brash looked her in the eye and had to give her props. Most people wouldn’t have the balls to try to herd a guy wearing Sons of Sanctuary MC leather.  

The club employed a woman who cooked and did grocery shopping several times a week as part of her job description, but Brash didn’t like to explain his relentless craving for peanuts and he liked being teased about it even less. He didn’t know whether it was the Vitamin B or the fat or just because he liked the taste, but he couldn’t imagine going a day without them.

That’s how he came to be standing statue still In the grocery checkout line, being prompted by some woman with more nerve than sense. While he was waiting, his eyes drifted over the magazine display and settled on the cover of “NOW”, on the Most Eligible Bachelor edition no less. The debonair figure staring back was wearing Brash’s own face and body. He looked different with short hair and a four thousand dollar suit with the shirt fashionably open at the neckline, but the similarity was inescapable. 

On impulse he grabbed the magazine and tossed it onto the conveyor belt with his week’s stash of peanuts.  

He stuffed the bags into the saddlebags of his bike and roared toward home, nervously tapping his fingers on handlebars at red lights, riding on shoulders to keep from slowing down. He was anxious to get to the privacy of his own room and read about Branach St. Germaine.  

Two beers, one jar of peanuts, and one “NOW” article later, Brash was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at the wall, seeing nothing but his own heavy thoughts. He pulled out his phone, looked up a website, and waited on hold for ten minutes to hear the time of the next flight from Austin to New York.  

There was a flight to Newark in a little over three hours. He looked at his watch and calculated the time it would take to drive from Dripping Springs at that time of day. As he booked the flight, he stood up, walked to the small closet, grabbed a duffel bag, and began shoving stuff into it. Ten minutes later, he closed his door and locked it, threw the duffel over his shoulder, and headed straight for the office downstairs. He dropped the duffel on the hallway floor beside the closed door and knocked. 

“Yeah?” Brash looked inside, glad that his dad was by himself, and stepped in. “What’s up?”

“I’m takin’ personal time, Pop. Gonna be gone for a couple of days.”

“What the hell is ‘personal time’?”

The gruffness made Brash smile. “It means I’m not gonna be here if you call and I’m not tellin’ you why.”

The Sons of Sanctuary President looked up at Brash, over the top of his readers, and narrowed his eyes. “You got a secret?”

“Everybody’s got secrets.”

Brandon Fornight studied his son for a minute. “True enough. Is it the kind of secret that could affect this club?”

Brash shook his head. “Don’t see how.”

“Well, then. See you… When did you say you’d be back?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bein’ purposefully vague, are you?”

Brash grinned. “That’s why they call it personal time. But I expect to be back Friday.”

“You gonna have your phone with you?” When Brash nodded, Bran looked back down at his ledger in a deliberately dismissive gesture. “Well, get outta here then.” 

Brash parked his bike in the airplane hangar. The structure had already been on the property when the club had bought it and turned it into a compound twenty years earlier. They used part of it for vehicle maintenance and repair and part for parking.

Some of the guys who were working looked over and shot curious glances his way when Brash threw his duffel into his pickup and started it up, but it wasn’t their way to ask questions. The Sons figured that if somebody wanted you to know something, they’d tell you. 

Brash took a cab to a midtown hotel, wondering all the way why human beings would choose to live in such a place. As he slid his credit card across the hotel counter to the agent on duty, he glanced at the name, Brandon Fornight. It seemed unlikely that it was a coincidence that that the mysterious look-alike’s first name began with the same four letters. He ordered room service and pulled out his laptop. 

Getting intel on the guy didn’t take advanced ops. Within an hour Brash knew where Brannach St. Germaine worked, what kind of car he drove, what kind of women he dated, who his tailor was, and where he liked to dine. There was no shortage of photos online, but the one that grabbed his attention wasn’t one of the many with starlets or debutantes on his arm. It was the one taken with his arm around his mother as they were arriving together for some red carpet fundraiser. Brash had an almost irresistible compulsion to reach up and touch her face on the screen in front of him.

The knock on the door signaled that room service had arrived. It cost a fortune, but looked and tasted like shit. So he closed the computer and went out for a walk to clear his head and find something edible.

~~

Also look for A Season in Gemini, Sons of Sanctuary MC series, Intro – in the Summer Fire anthology, available everywhere.
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About The Book

Title: TWO PRINCES: The Biker and The Billionaire

Author: Victoria Danann

Genre: Contemporary Romance

TWO PRINCES: The Biker and The Billionaire

Sons of Sanctuary MC, Book 1 

Two brothers, one a player, one a playboy, are on a collision course with destiny and a woman who thought she won a prize when she was allowed a look inside the Sons of Sanctuary MC.

Brigid Roan is a graduate student at the University of Texas. She had no trouble getting her thesis approved, but finding a Hill Country motorcycle club willing to give her access to their lifestyle was looking impossible. Then she got a lead. A friend of a friend had a cousin with family ties to The Sons of Sanctuary.

What Brigid wanted was information to prove a proposition. The last thing she had in mind was falling for one of the members of the club. Especially since she was a feminist academic out to prove that motorcycle clubs are organized according to the same structure as primitive tribal society.

Brash Fornight was standing in line at the H.E.B. Market when his world tipped on its axis. While waiting his turn to check out, his gaze had wandered to the magazine display and settled on the new issue of “NOW”. The image on the cover, although GQ’d up in an insanely urbane way, was… him.

After reading the article, Brash threw some stuff in a duffle and left his only home, a room at The Sons of Sanctuary clubhouse, with a vague explanation about needing a couple of days away. He left his truck at the Austin airport and caught a plane for New York, on a mission to find a mysterious guy walking around with his face.

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Book Excerpt from Summer Fire

5/26/2015

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Book Excerpt

 Killer

Prequel to Stalker


By Clarissa Wild
 

UNEDITED EXCERPT - Subject to change

COPYRIGHT © CLARISSA WILD. All Rights reserved.

 

PROLOGUE
 

Vanessa
 

Never in my life did I think I would be the prime suspect in my husband’s murder. But looking back at the choices I made, it’s not so strange that people think I’m a killer.


I’m not as innocent as I portray myself. Looks can be deceiving.

 

However, I won’t go down for this. Not when I don’t deserve it.
 

I should’ve known it would end up this way. That man … Phoenix Sullivan … The moment I saw that deadly gaze in his eyes, the dark way he looked at me, I knew I was in trouble.
 

Big trouble.
 

And something tells me there’s more where that came from.
 

This game of catch won’t be ending any time soon.
 

 

Phoenix


Look at her, in her fancy white dress, with her fake blonde curls, and that sweet, deliciously fake smile. Don’t you just want to fuck that pretentious smile off her face? I do. And I will.
 

She has no idea what’s coming for her. Or her husband.
 

You see, I’m not a nice person. When I have my eyes set on something, I do it. In this case, it’s killing the man she’s married to. She probably won’t like it, but that’s not my problem. She’s not my target … and she’d better not turn herself into one.


I’m here with a purpose, and nothing stands between me and my goal. Not even a pretty girl with an ass worth fucking. Nobody stands in my way, and if they do, they die.


Too bad for her I’m like a fucking canon, and when I shoot, shrapnel flies everywhere. If she gets caught in the fire, that’s on her.


When I want something, I’m going to get it, no matter the price. Whether it’s killing someone, or fucking her.
 

She wants justice, I’ll give her justice … my justice.
 

I bet she isn’t willing to pay the price.

Too bad for her I always win.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

 

 

Phoenix

 

Tonight’s the perfect night to kill.

 

I can feel it in my veins; that undeniable urge flowing through me on nights like these. Exciting like drugs; the murderous kind.

 

Clouds prevent the moonlight from bursting through and cover the land in perpetual darkness. There are plenty of lanterns lighting the road ahead, but not the alley I’m headed for. In front of me is a small puddle of water, so I walk past the side to avoid my new leather shoes from getting wet. You see, I just bought these, and I prefer to keep them clean for as long as possible. They will probably lose their shine after tonight’s killings.

 

Oh well, it’s not like I’ll need these shoes for anything other than entering the party ahead and pretending like I belong. Gotta be fancy enough for the big crowd, because of course, someone in jeans couldn’t be nearly important enough as someone in a suit.

 

Bunch of fake fuckers. If I could, I’d burn the whole fucking place to the ground with them in it, but I’d rather not end up in jail if I can avoid it. Killing has to be done as inconspicuous as possible, so nobody will know it was me until I’ve already disappeared from sight.

 

It’s my thing, it’s what I do, or rather what I’ve become. After all these years, I don’t even remember what it was like to not be a murderer. Not that I want to remember; hell, I prefer this life over any other, especially the lives of those people in that party who are about to witness death.

 

I’ve got to admit, it is a rush. I just love killing, especially when it’s for the right reasons. Those reasons are obviously always to benefit me. Why the fuck else would I murder people if not for my own pleasure? Well, and for the money that sustains me, of course.

 

What can I say? I’m the scum of the earth, the disgusting vile that creeps in the corners to jump you at night … and I don’t regret being like this for even a second.

 

I turn into the alley and come face to face with a bulking, barely-fitting-in-his-suit, bodyguard. I cock my head as he frowns at me, probably wondering what I’m doing here.

 

“Excuse me, you can’t come here,” he says as I walk closer.

 

I smile. “Why not? This is where the party is.”

 

He folds his arms, making himself seem larger, but all it does to me is make it more laughable. “This is the rear entrance. If you want access, you have to take the front door. If you have a ticket, that is …”

 

He doesn’t believe me? Even in my fucking fancy suit? Well, fuck him. I wanted to spare his life, but questioning my slickness isn’t something one can get away with on my watch.

 

“Oh, I have a ticket, all right,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “How dare you talk to a guest like that.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he says, “But I’m not allowed to let anyone pass through this door. You will have to go to the front entrance where they can check your ticket. Sorry.”

 

Of course they all think I’m not a guest, because let’s face it … I look like a guy you wouldn’t want your daughter to talk to, even if it was in broad daylight in your own fucking home. With my piercings, black hair, and merciless attitude, I usually scare people to death. I have the kind of face you’d see in your nightmares … except, when you see me in real life, you’re really dead.

 

Like this guy.

 

“Yeah, yeah … so let me get this straight …” I shuffle around, looking at the floor, distracting him. “You’re basically telling me I can’t walk here, even though this is a public alley, just because this isn’t the ‘correct’ entrance to the party I’m supposed to be attending?”

 

“I’m only doing my job.”

 

I look up at him. “So am I.”

 

In a fraction of a second I’ve grabbed his coat and flip it over his head. I twist around, to his back, and wrap it around his neck. His screams are quickly muffled by the fabric stuffed in his mouth, choking him as I drag him back into the corners of the alley. He claws at the coat, desperate to free himself before time runs out. Stumbling backwards, we fall to the ground, and I wrap my legs around his chest to prevent him from moving. His body fights for survival, his legs thrashing, his hands punching in the air. It’s no use. I will win this fight, as I always do. He’s losing his energy fast, and his muscles are losing their strength. It won’t be long now. With his fingers growing whiter every second, all the blood is rushing to his face, in a last attempt to breath. But it’s already too late; there is no oxygen left and his lungs are shutting down.

 

His legs stop moving and his hands drop to the floor, the last groan slipping off his tongue like a ghost leaving his body.

 

Death has made his entry.

 

It’s done.

 

I unwrap the coat from his face and crawl out from underneath him. Then I drag his body to the dumpster in the back and put him on the side facing the brick wall. I take his coat off his dead body and swing it around until it’s long and thin, like a rope. Then I tie it around a handle of the dumpster and tightly wrap the other end around his neck. I make sure his body is positioned right and the tension on the coat is just right, so that when the paramedics or police find him they’ll think exactly what I want them to think; that this was a mindless suicide with no further need to investigate.

 

Hopefully, they won’t find him before morning, when I’m long gone.

 

Before I leave I fish in his pockets and take out a rather convenient card that will grant me access to the backdoor of the building. Smiling at him, I say, “Sorry, dude. Business is business. No hard feelings.”

 
***
 

 

Vanessa

 

One look, a simple glance, can change everything.

 

A nod, narrowing eyes, or a twitch of the lips is all it takes to convey a message that destroys everything.

 

I should’ve trusted my instincts, should’ve listened to the warning signs. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, the dread rippling through my veins, telling me this wasn’t right.

 

Instead, I give my husband the glass, my smile, and a soft pet on the shoulder.

 

“Here you go, darling,” I say, giving him a peck on the cheeks.

 

When I turn to look back at the man I exchanged looks with, he’s gone.

 

My husband laughs and takes the glass from my hand, pulling me from my thoughts. “Vanessa, let me introduce you to Cordelia.”

 

The woman next to him holds out her hand, her smile full of fakery as she says, “Cordelia, I’m a fan of your husband’s work.”

 

“Vanessa, lovely to meet you. My husband seems to have many fans at this party.” I laugh and smile like the good wife, pretending not to have noticed the wink she gave him. Her tightly squeezed dress reminds me of my husband’s hand, which was on her ass just seconds ago. I wonder if the squeeze was good enough, or if he’ll find more asses to pat later.

 

In one go, I chug back my drink.

 

Everybody looks at me like I’ve gone insane, but I ignore them. I place my glass down on a tray held by a waiter passing by and return with a smile. “So, Cordelia, I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re one of the actresses in my husband’s movies if I’m not mistaken.”

 

“Yes, our latest movie will be airing in January this year, so I’m quite excited about that.”

 

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Did you work closely with her?” I ask my husband. “Since you two seem to know each other so well.”

 

“Ah, yes, well …” My husband chokes on his wine.

 

“Phillip showed me all around the set. He’s quite a charm,” she says, giggling. “He knows so much about this business, I swear, I feel like a rookie again when I’m around him.”

 

“Hmm … I can imagine,” I say, smiling again. First name basis already. That went quickly.

 

Phillip coughs a couple more times, his wine glass shaking so much that it spills and droplets fall to the ground.

 

“Oh dear, are you all right, Phillip?” Cordelia asks, placing her hand on her chest.

 

He coughs some more, this time bending over, punching his own chest. I grab the glass from his hand and put it down. “Phillip? Talk to me,” I say.

 

“I’m … fine,” he mutters, but I can clearly tell he’s not. He’s coughing too much, more than I’ve ever seen him do, and that’s noteworthy, as he’s a fervent smoker.

 

“Do you need me to help you?” I ask.

 

“No … no, no, I just need some air.”

 

I place my hand on his back. “Let’s go outside then.”

 

“I think it’s better if you took him home,” Cordelia says, swallowing away the lump in her throat. “He seems … ill.”

 

“Thank you for your concern,” I say. Always so involved. “We’ll be fine.”

 

“No, she’s right.” Phillip places a hand on mine. “Let’s go home. Seems this wine was a little too much for my body to handle. I’ve had enough drinks for one night.” He laughs, but it’s more pathetic than anything. “Besides, I’ve shown my face and talked to some people. The party will probably go on fine without us.”

 

“All right, if you’re sure. See you later, Cordelia,” I say, waving back at her while I take my husband outside.

 

The doors are opened for us as I escort him outside. My husband dismisses all the help the waiters want to give him, much to my dismay. I help him down the stone staircase, which is quite a feat. The more we walk, the more he leans on me, and it’s becoming harder and harder to help him walk. Soon, I’m the one carrying most of his weight.

 

“What’s happening to you? Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” he says, the coughs still increasing in volume. “Just had a little too much, that’s all.” He stumbles across the pavement, almost pulling me down with him. I can barely keep us both on two feet.

 

“Phillip, this isn’t right, you can’t even walk,” I say, walking him all the way to our car.

 

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just a little … tipsy, that’s all.” He fumbles in his pockets, leaning against the car as he takes it out and I open the door to step in.

 

“No, no, I’m driving,” he says.

 

“What? No way, you can’t. You’re too intoxicated.”

 

He frowns. “No, I’m not. Now, step aside and let me drive.”

 

I make a face. “Must you always be so damn stubborn? Just let me drive. I can bring us home safely.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong, now move aside, woman.” He shoves me so hard that I have to hold onto the door to stay steady.

 

Before I have time to protest, he sits down behind the wheel and slams the door shut.

 

My hands turn into fists as I storm to the other side of the car and mouth some foul words. This man … ugh, the amount of crap I have to put up with is driving me insane.

 

I open the door and sit my ass down, slamming the door shut behind me. The car starts and he drives off with a hiccup, hitting a stone ridge to the side of the road.

 

“Watch it!” I say.

 

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, driving out of the parking lot. “Can you just give me a break?”

 

“No, this is dangerous, and you know it.”

 

“I said I’m fine, what more do you want from me, huh?” He starts driving faster.

 

“Oh, not this again,” I sigh.

 

“Keep quiet then and let me do my job.”

 

“Your job is driving?” I jest, as we ride through the city.

 

He throws me a glance. “Can you just not make it worse? Like, for one fucking second in my life, can you just not annoy the ever-loving shit out of me?”

 

The car is going faster and faster, even when a traffic light is eminent.

 

“Philip, stop.”

 

“No, you stop.”

 

“No, I mean, the lights!” I yell.

 

Too late, he’s already rushing straight through while it was red. I put my hands in front of my eyes so I won’t see the impending disaster. My heart is racing, my breathing is ragged, and when I open my eyes again nothing has happened. Phillip is still sitting next to me, his breathing loud and his veins bulging through his skin, his face red with rage.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream.

 

“Nothing, you’re what’s wrong with me!” he yells back.

 

“You just drove straight through a red light. Are you insane?”

 

“If I am, it’s your fucking fault for always getting on my back,” he hisses.

 

“And this is payback? Scaring me? How dare you,” I say. “Stop this car.”

 

“No.”

 

We’re nearing the highway, and I don’t want this to get worse. I need to get out. “Phillip, stop this car. Right. Now.”

 

“No,” he repeats, fuming.

 

“Let me out!” I scream.

 

“We’re not doing this. Not now,” he says, grinding his teeth.

 

I look around, but all I see are roads and other cars, no grass in sight to even remotely think of jumping out, even though that’s a ridiculous idea. But when you’re afraid, stupid things go through your head. I hate danger.

 

Shit, we’re already driving on the highway. It’s too late.

 

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Get off the highway!”

 

“I’m getting us home. Now will you shut up already?” he yells. “You’re driving me crazy with your constant whining.”

 

The yelling causes him to cough so hard, the car is swaying.

 

“Be careful,” I say, sweating like crazy.

 

“Shut up! Just shut up, all right? If you can shut your mouth for like ten minutes, we’ll get home safely, and I’ll be rid of this nasty cough,” he growls, still coughing.

 

“Fine,” I say, and I turn my head to look out the window.

 

The lights pass by quicker with every mile we drive, cars shooting by as if they were never even there. I try to focus on my breathing, trying to calm myself down so I can think of a rational solution to this problem. The problem being his cough and incredibly bad temper. I try to ignore the fact that the car is still speeding up and that his cough still has not subsided, even though he said it would when we’d stop talking. After a few minutes, the swaying becomes so bad, I turn my head to see if I can help.

 

What I see makes my heart stop.

 

Phillip’s eyes open and close.

 

His body is limp.

 

His hands aren’t on the steering wheel.

 

And the car has already veered from one lane into the other.

 

“No!” I squeal, grasping the wheel with all I have, trying to straighten it in time.

 

But the car is already too skewed, and when I turn, it starts to spin.

 

The backside slips to the left, crashing into the guardrail. Another car hits ours so hard it catapults us into the air.

 

At this moment in time, my body is bumping into my seat and into the window, my head exploding in pain. My vision becomes blurry as the car cartwheels across the road. I swing from left to right, up and down, as the belt proves to be of little use to protect me. My hands clamp around my face in an attempt to protect myself as the car flips again and again.

 

When the car comes to a stop, I’m hanging from the top, gravity pulling on my body. My lungs are about to burst from the air locked inside. For a moment, my mind leaves my body, and I fade in and out of consciousness. Blood trickles down my nose, keeping me awake. My hands feel numb and my feet are swollen, but somewhere inside me, I find the courage to move.

 

I lift the belt and unbuckle myself. My body drops to the hard roof, which is now the floor, crushing my ribs. I howl in pain, but stop when I can’t breathe. I blink to clear my view and look around. Phillip hangs next to me, his body lifeless and limp. And then I notice the smoke.

 

“Phillip,” I whisper. “Phillip, wake up.” My throat burns and my muscles ache as I attempt to free him. However, a flicker of fire is enough to make me stop in my tracks. Flames are eating up the car, and by the time I slide out of the car, they have swallowed the metal.

 

I crawl further away, hoping to get on my feet and run to Phillip’s side so I can drag him out myself, but when I try to stand my legs won’t budge. Cars around us stop as I fight to get away from the car. The fuel entering my nostrils is the adrenaline that pushes me to keep going.

 

When I turn my head to look at the car, flames have engulfed it.

 

My ears are ringing, my eyes tearing up from the pain.

 

My husband is in there, and despite my efforts, I can’t make it back in time.

 

He’s burning alive.

 

“No!” I yell, but then cough because I can’t bear the pain. It’s so hot, and everything hurts.

 

As I look around, someone comes toward me. One of the people from the cars that stopped. My vision is getting blurry again, and my strength is fading fast. Even though I try to lift my arms, they don’t listen to me, and I lie lifelessly on the cold asphalt, waiting for the ordeal to end.

 

Feet come closer until they stop in front of me. I pour my last ounce of strength into gazing up into the eyes of the one who will pull me out of here.

 

He’s none other than the man I saw at the party.

But his eyes show no mercy.

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About The Book

21 ALL NEW Contemporary Romance stories by New York Times, USA Today, and National Bestselling authors.

LIMITED TIME ONLY! $0.99 during promotion. Regular price $18.99.

Love when it’s hot? So do we. Especially when we’re writing about gritty alphas, angsty bad boys, sizzling attraction, and unrequited passion. Loosen your buttons, turn the fan to oscillate and join us for this steamy, groundbreaking bundle of summer tales that are hot hot hot.

ALL THE AMAZING AUTHORS:

Gennita Low

Stacey Mosteller

R.J. Lewis

L. Wilder

Victoria Danann

Kym Grosso

Cat Miller

Mimi Barbour

Clarissa Wild

Teresa Gabelman

Linda Barlow

Helen Scott Taylor

Victoria James

Mona Risk

Patrice Wilton

Joan Reeves

Danielle Jamie

Terri Marie

Lorhainne Eckhart

Brandy L. Rivers

Nicole Blanchard

Buy the Book

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1Dv2jy3

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Book Excerpt Bai Tide

5/25/2015

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Book Excerpt

 Agnes’s office at the end of the hall was largest of all and afforded a stunning view of the dormitory, classrooms, and most of the thirty acres of property the school owned. I sat in one of the frigid-from-the-air-conditioning leather armchairs in the corner and pressed the blinking yellow light on the secure teleconference device that sat on the table to my left.

The projected image of a man I’d never met lit up the wall in front of me. He was seated behind a desk, typing on a keyboard off-screen. He kept typing for a few seconds after I picked up the call, then clicked his mouse before looking into the camera.

He cleared his throat. “Mr. Broccoli, I presume?” He sounded American, appeared to be in his late fifties, and had the lean look of a man who’s stayed active his whole life.

“It depends. Who are you?” Maybe my reply seems rude, but you learn quickly in the intelligence community that a stranger is a potential enemy until proven otherwise.

“Nice James Bond reference. I like your sense of humor.” He smiled, revealing even white teeth and crinkling blue eyes. He had a good haircut and a nice tie, so I distrusted him out of hand. Government work doesn’t generally pay well enough to afford ties like that.

“Glad to hear it.”

“My name’s Arthur Peters. I work with the State Department.”

I resisted the urge to gulp. Mr. Nice Tie Nice Eyes didn’t just work with the State Department. He was the Under Secretary for Arms Control and International Security Affairs. He was one of those behind-the-scenes guy who knew the secrets’ secrets, and it made me very, very nervous that all my poking around had attracted his attention. This meant something big was burbling in the watchdog section of the State Department and it had something to do with the jackhole who’d tried to blow me up.

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About the Book

Title: Bai Tide

Author: Erika Mitchell

Genre: Espionage Thriller

After the events of Blood Money, CIA case officer Bai Hsu is assigned to a high-security private school for what he’s told is an easy assignment. Just a few months after he arrives, a hostile operative with ties to North Korea tries to break in to a school event, with motives unknown.

As his investigation progresses, he unravels a plot that, if not stopped, will result in the untimely and murderous deaths of tens of millions of people.

Bai Tide is Bai’s greatest challenge yet. A mission that will take him from the windswept beaches of San Diego to a whiteout blizzard in the foothills of Pyongyang, and make him question everything he thought he knew about working in the field…and about himself.

Author Bio

Erika Mitchell was born in Orange County, California to a published author and an Anarchist’s Cookbook aficionado. She moved to Seattle, Washington as a freshman in high school, where she promptly realized she owned just one pair of pants and that was going to be a problem in a place with an actual winter.

She graduated from Northwest University in 2003 with a degree in Psychology, which she has yet to use. After a brief foray into technical recruiting (a disaster), she found her calling as a writer and, wonder of wonders, was actually able to find a job where someone paid her to do just that as a blogger.

Blogging turned into writing novels, where Erika has found her niche in the espionage and thriller genre.

Erika currently resides in a small suburb outside Seattle with her husband and two children.

Links

Author website: www.erika-mitchell.com

Author blog: www.parsingnonsense.com

Author Twitter account: @ParsingNonsense

Author Facebook page: www.facebook.com/erikamitchellbooks

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Promo Post Ernie the Elephant in Henry Brags

5/24/2015

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About the Book

Title: Ernie the Elephant in Henry Brags

Author: Leelah Hope

Genre: Children’s Book

This is the story of a boastful elephant that likes to tease people so much that he has chased his friends away.
Nobody wants to play with him because they cannot take his constant abuse and self flattery.
It is a heart warming tale of courage as Ernie takes on the bully and wins.

Aimed at 2-5 year olds, the story is perfect pairing of elegant verse and colorful illustrations.

This book is fun for the whole family.

Author Bio

Leela Hope is a writer with over 22 years of experience in writing endearing children’s fiction. Her lively characters have entranced and captivated her audience, and she has taken great joy in writing the three series of books, each beautifully illustrated with love and care. Her stories concentrate on the adventures of floppy eared bunnies and wide-eyed children learning lessons in life, before returning home wiser and eager for sleep. leela hope writes her stories to entertain the very young, but also to educate. Her vision is always of a parent sitting on a child’s bed, reciting the stories each night, while the young one drifts off to sleep, lulled into a dream world full of fun and adventure.

From her very earliest years of childhood, leela made up stories in her head, telling them to her younger brother and sister. The stories flowed easily from her mind, and it wasn’t long before she realized she had a gift for writing. By the age of 14, she had already written a small book of short stories for her own entertainment, and by the age of 22, she had published her first full-fledged children’s fiction in several magazines. leela hope was destined to be an author and she knew exactly what genre of fiction she wanted to dedicate her life too.

Born in San Diego, California, and still residing in the area, Leela studied English Literature at Berkeley,earning a degree in 1989. Her writing covers a span of several genres, but she always returns to her first love, children’s fiction. She enjoys scuba diving and visiting wildlife parks, seeking new inspiration for cuddly characters for her stories. leela hope lives in an urban area of San Diego and is presently at work on a new book.

Links

Buy the book on Amazon

Take a look at the author’s page on Amazon

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Cover Reveal Party Breaking Silence

5/23/2015

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About the Book

 

Title: Breaking the Silence

Author: Diamante Lavendar

Genre: Women’s Fiction

Based on a true story, a new novel from Diamante Lavendar. Joan Eastman was born like any other girl. However her life would prove to be a life of great pain… Growing up, she was treated differently by family members, powerless to defend herself against their sexual and psychological abuse. Feeling she had been dealt a wicked hand by the “powers that be”, she spiraled into substance abuse and troubled relationships. She became a victim of addiction and self-hatred. Not giving up, she becomes aware of a greater spiritual being that protects her and she begins to heal. Then she finds herself pregnant. She learns to understand nothing is hopeless; that with a changed view and self discovery, there is real hope in every situation, no matter how difficult. As she and her husband look forward to the birth of their child, she writes in her diary as a way of expelling all of the evil memories. On bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy, she endures tests and tribulations that at first she couldn’t begin to understand. But no matter how high the hurdles in Joan’s life are, she doesn’t look back, and pulls the pieces of her life together…for herself and her unborn child. This inspirational story speaks of Joan’s gradual self acceptance and healing of her body, mind and spirit. It speaks of the possibilities of the future and the fulfillment of the dream of love and family. And it speaks of jumping the hurdles in life without looking back, no matter how high those hurdles may be

Author Bio

Diamante Lavendar has been in love with reading since she was a child. She spent many hours listening to her mother read to her when she was young. As she grew older, she enjoyed reading novels of all genres: horror, fantasy and some romance to name a few.

She began writing in college and published some poetry in anthologies over the years. After her kids were older, she wrote as a form of self expression and decided she wanted to share her stories with others.

Most of her writing is very personal and stems from her own experiences and those of her family and friends. She writes to encourage hope and possibility to those who read her stories.

Diamante believes that everyone should try to leave their own positive mark in the world, to make it a better place for all. Writing is the way that she is attempting to leave her mark—one story at a time.

Links

http://diamantelavendar.com/

Google+: https://plus.google.com/107370618346077894159/posts

https://www.facebook.com/diamante.lavendar

Buy the Book:

B&N: B&N

Amazon: Amazon

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Book Excerpt from Nowhere Train

5/19/2015

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Book Excerpt

 “Why are you still here?”

Jett lay in the loosely packed sand, the gray sky watching from above. She could see only blackness from the inside of her eyelids. From somewhere behind her, Chris’s energy beat in her chest like an old heart with barely a will to survive after its stretched years. Like alcohol, marijuana intensified the effects of energy work, albeit in a different way. It slowed the background noise of the world so that she could focus on just one thing at a time. But it wasn’t because she was high. Chris—and his energy—was like that. Calmer than any being she had come in contact with on this earth, calmer, even, than her father. It’s why Chris was her best friend. He kept her grounded. And she kept him flying.

Jett felt Devlin’s energy shift from beside her, from void to aware. His blue eyes were looking at her; she could feel them on her skin, warm, as if they were the sun and not eyes.

Jett didn’t open her eyes.

“I often wonder that myself.” Devlin’s voice came out slow and calculated, as if he chose his words carefully. “Where this will to survive comes from in a world that isn’t worth surviving anyway. Why we don’t just let them eat us, or, better yet, shoot ourselves in the fucking head. Sorry.” Devlin cleared his throat.

Jett failed to hold in the laugh that escaped her, but didn’t fail to notice Chris’s energy perk up behind her when it happened. She laughed at more than one thing in that moment, but she didn’t know what was more influential: the fact that Devlin felt the need to apologize for dropping an f-bomb, or his apparent need to explain in depth the way of the world when she had silently meant what are you still doing here as in why are you still on the beach.

It was too late for humor, though, in a moment when her eyes were now open and watching Devlin look at her like she was an unappreciative bitch.

“I’m sorry,” she said, faintly smiling at him. “I meant, what are you doing here, you know, as in this…general location.”

Devlin covered his face with his hands and laughed for a long time. “I didn’t want to go home,” he mumbled eventually.

This conversation was like a mentally ill patient with bipolar disorder. As the air around them went from deep to frivolous, it was unstable and it was untrustworthy and it was… exhilarating.

“That sounds awful,” Jett said. “Not having anyone you particularly want to go back to.”

Devlin shrugged his shoulders against the soft sand. “I don’t have to go back, I guess. But I always do.”

“Why?”

His stare into her eyes was intense. “I don’t know.”

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About the Book

Title: Nowhere Train

Author: Allie Burke

Genre: New Adult, Paranormal Romance, Dystopian

Two-years post end-of-the-world, all Jetilyn Fournier wants to do is learn to navigate a world that is no longer her own. Surviving zombies feels easy, though, compared to dealing with her rocky relationship with her best friend, the death of her mother, her sister’s faux happiness, and her father’s sudden desire to speak, after decades of silence. Saving herself is not even something she can fit in at the moment. Enter Devlin Shea: for all intents and purposes, a mortal enemy. Though she should hate him instantly upon contact, she doesn’t, and before she knows it, Jett has another life to save. Told in the surreal prose that Allie Burke has come to be known for, Nowhere Train is the first zombie novel of its kind. At two parts hippie and one part magic, it is as deadly as it is beautiful; as dark as it is hopeful, baring the question in mind: who–and what–are Jett and her family really fighting for?

Author Bio

A Bestselling Author, publishing imprint Manager, and Psychology Today Blogger from Burbank, California, Allie Burke writes books she can’t find in the bookstore. Having been recognized as writing a “kickass book that defies the genre it’s in”, Allie writes with a prose that has been labeled poetic and ethereal.

Her life is a beautiful disaster, flowered with the harrowing existence of inherited eccentricity, a murderous family history, a faithful literature addiction, and the intricate darkness of true love. These are the enchanting experiences that inspire Allie’s fairytales.

From some coffee shop in Los Angeles, she is working on her next novel.

Visit Allie at http://wordsbyallieburke.com

Links

Buy on Amazon

Buy on B&N

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Promo Post From Frights to Flaws

5/17/2015

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About the Book

Title: From Frights to Flaws

Author: Sunayna Prasad

Genre: Middle Grade Fantasy

    Twelve-year-old Alyssa McCarthy is sick of her uncle’s unfair rules and longs for a better life. After discovering the existence of magic, she finds out about a dark wizard hunting her down. An unforgettable storm occurs in Alyssa’s ordinary New Jersey town before the sorcerer kidnaps her to the Fiji Islands.

On the enchanted island of Yanowic, Alyssa learns that she is unable to get out of the country due to a giant shield. She must defeat some dangerous creatures and the evil wizard in order to leave. But with sorcerers and magical technology getting in her way, can Alyssa succeed?

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Author Bio

Sunayna Prasad has been writing stories for several years, starting at the age of six. Now twenty-one, she is a college student will study who studies art and design as well write for children. Aside from that, Sunayna also likes to cook, watch movies, and draw. She lives on Long Island, New York, with her family.

Links

http://www.sunaynaprasadbooks.com/

https://www.facebook.com/SunaynaPrasadBooks

Buy on Amazon

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