Tag Archive | romance

Adrienne deWolfe and “Scoundrel for Hire”

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Adrienne will be awarding a $25 Amazon Gift Card to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour; a Professional Story Critique of Chapter 1 of your novel (a $125 value) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour; an ebook copy of TEXAS OUTLAW (Book 1, WILD TEXAS NIGHTS) to to three randomly drawn commenters during the tour; an ebook copy of HIS WICKED DREAM (Book 2, VELVET LIES) to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour, and character worksheets to write Heroes, Villains, and Sidekicks for your novel to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour. Click here for the Rafflecopter. Click the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

About Scoundrel for Hire: Book 1, Velvet Lies Series

Raphael Jones is a Kentucky-born scoundrel, who has never played by the rules. When Colorado mining heiress, Silver Nichols, hires him to stop her precious daddy from marrying a golddigger, Rafe sets out to seduce Silver and win her fortune.

Cover_SCOUNDREL FOR HIREBut beneath Silver’s cool veneer, Rafe encounters a sweet vulnerability and an aching secret that threatens to send his whole world up in smoke.

Now the wily scoundrel must choose: walk away or wager the one thing he can’t afford to lose—his heart.

Excerpt

Rafe Makes Mischief at the Party

Oblivious to the knife that was twisting in Silver’s chest, Papa blew his fiancée a kiss. Celestia pinkened like a bonbon. Clasping her well-corseted bosom, she made a great show of blowing back her answer, and Papa chortled, reaching up to catch it.

It was more than Silver could bear.

“Papa,” she said tersely, “perhaps it’s time you introduced Lord Chumley to your fiancée. I’m sure Celestia might be persuaded to tear herself away from her palm-reading long enough to… uh…” She tossed a withering glance at Rafe’s preposterous, chartreuse waistcoat and outlandish muttonchop whiskers. ” … Meet such a distinguished member of the British House of Lords.”

“Odds fish,” Rafe drawled, squinting through his quizzing glass at Celestia’s equally outlandish costume. “A palm reader, is she?”

“She sure is,” Papa said proudly. “She talks to spirits, too. Why, we’re planning on having a séance to talk to that pesky ghost,” he continued over Silver’s sputtered objections. “You know, the one that’s been haunting our mine and driving all the shovel stiffs away.”

“A ghost, you say?” Rafe looked like he might burst out laughing. “Lud, what rotten luck. Can’t be good for business, what? My great grandmummy’s castle was haunted once,” he improvised brightly. “The bugger kept driving her sheep away. It was deuced inconvenient; they kept drowning in the moat. Turns out, Sir Harry—that was our ghost—had it in for the critters. Choked to death on a leg o’ lamb, you see. So he’d ring a cowbell to lure them over the drawbridge.”

Silver narrowed her eyes at her playactor’s ad-lib. “Fortunately, there are no sheep in Silver’s Mine.”

“But there is a bell,” Papa added thoughtfully. “‘Course, it’s supposed to be a warning bell, but it’s got all the men spooked ’cause it rings for no danged reason. Or at least, that’s what we used to think. But maybe Nahele’s been trying to warn us away. Do you suppose that’s why he’s resorting to more drastic measures, like snuffing out lanterns and dumping lunch pails into the abyss?”

“Papa,” Silver ground out, ever-conscious of the newsman who was trailing after them, “Nahele is not roaming our tunnels, upsetting lunch buckets. The very idea is ludicrous.”

“Now, daughter, you can’t be so sure. No one knows for certain what happens to the spirit after it leaves its fleshy abode. Celestia says we can ask Nahele anything we like during the séance, and I mean to ask him to stop harassing our shovel stiffs. Besides,” Papa added more ominously, “who knows what Nahele might do next if we keep ignoring him?”

“A séance is a rather novel approach to avoiding a miners’ strike,” Buckholtz interjected snidely.

Silver scowled. So much for trying to keep that headline out of the newspaper.

“Our miners are reasonable men,” she told the newsman with long-suffering dignity. “I’m sure their peculiar set of grievances can be logically explained. With safety being our primary concern, of course, I shall direct our mining engineers to re-inspect the timbering for buckling and cracking. I’m sure this will allay the Union’s fears.”

“Dash it all.” Rafe donned a hangdog expression. “Does that mean there won’t be a séance? I was so looking forward to chatting with a real, live ghostie—”

Silver furtively stomped his foot.

Available

http://ebookdiscovery.com.p8.hostingprod.com/AdrienneDeWolfe.html

About the Author

Adrienne deWolfeAdrienne deWolfe is a #1 Bestselling Author and a recipient of 48 writing awards, including the Best Historical Romance of the Year.  She consistently delights readers with sexy, action-packed, western-style romances, including her Wild Texas Nights series and her Velvet Lies series.  In addition, she is the author of the bestselling non-fiction ebook series, The Secrets to Getting Your Romance Novel Published.

Fascinated by all things mystical, Adrienne writes a weekly blog about dragons, magic, and the paranormal at http://MagicMayhemBlog.com to help her research her upcoming YA Epic Fantasy series. She also writes a weekly blog with fiction writing tips and advice about the business of writing at http://WritingNovelsThatSell.com.  She enjoys mentoring aspiring authors and offers professional story critiques and book coaching services.

Contacts

Other Books in the Velvet Lies series

Book 1: SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE

Book 2: HIS WICKED DREAM

Book 3: SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL

Book 4: DEVIL IN TEXAS (Available 2014)

VELVET LIES_Trio_Adrienne deWolfe

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Dakota Manning and “Fire On Ice”

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Dakota will be awarding a backlist eBook to three randomly drawn commenters during the tour, and a grand prize of a print copy of After Alex Died (US ONLY) to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

(Click banner to visit other stops on the tour and increase your chances of winning.)

About Fire On Ice

He’s Fire on Ice and she’s afraid to get burned again…

After Taylor Thompson’s heart was completely shattered by her high school’s most popular jock, she vowed never to date another athlete. She keeps that promise through her first three years of college. But after a chance meeting with a star hockey player, the charming and irresistible Kian Kavanagh, Taylor’s carefully constructed walls are in serious danger of being burned down by Mr. Fire on Ice.

Available

AMAZON • SMASHWORDS

Excerpt

I shook my head and glanced around the club. Runt was right about one thing: the kids who frequented this place were loaded. Most of them were wearing top notch designer clothes and sporting hundred dollar haircuts. I grew up dirt poor, lucky to have second hand clothes from the donation bin and the occasional coupon-day haircut at Super Cuts. Even now, I didn’t like to waste money even though I was earning good coin. I knew there was a big chance my hockey career could be cut short, so I saved as much as I could for my future, which I hoped would someday be a sports bar, if I saved enough and was smart with investing.

As I glanced around the bar at the sea of perfect young faces, I spotted a girl sitting by herself at a small table in the corner. She was looking in my direction but when our eyes met, she quickly looked down and started reading a book.

What the hell?

Who reads a book in a bar, I wondered. I was intrigued.

Cover_Fire on Ice Front FinalThe first thing I noticed about her was her beautiful wavy brown hair. The long waves were tucked behind her ears, which were decorated with a single pink pearl in each center. She was wearing a flowered blouse tied over a black tank top and a long black skirt. It was such an odd outfit to be wearing at a bar. She looked like she was ready for a stroll through a museum or art gallery. Most girls at bars tried to show as much skin and body parts as humanly possible. They left little to the imagination. But this girl had her arms and legs completely covered.

I could tell she was different and I wanted to know why.

I tipped back the rest of my beer, put the empty glass on the bar and made my way over to the girl. I just couldn’t get over the fact she was reading a book in a bar. It was such a strange sight. As I got closer, I noticed the book was a lot thicker than I initially thought. A textbook? Who studies at a bar?

She didn’t even have a drink in front of her. She was just intent on reading her book.

I stood next to her table and cleared my throat to get her attention. When she glanced up at me, her expression was neutral.

“Hey,” I said and gave her a quick smile.

She just stared at me. I have to admit, it kind of freaked me out. I was used to girls doing most of the work. Usually all I had to do was decide if I wanted to take them home or not.

Her hazel brown eyes were completely captivating. I felt like I was swimming in the deep end of two delicious pools. I gulped and suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. The girl made me nervous and I never got nervous. All I could do was stare into her beautiful brown eyes.

“What do you want?” she said finally. The question wasn’t mean; it was like she was really curious why I was standing there.

“I was just wondering what you were reading.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I sounded like a complete asshole.

And why was I second guessing myself? That was not like me at all. From the time I was fourteen, and started to really show off on the ice, girls dropped their panties for me with little more than a wink and a winning smile on my part.

But this girl was different. When she looked at me, it was like she was looking right through me, like she could see into every part of my mind and soul. And that scared the hell out of me because there was a lot going on in there that I never wanted anyone to see.

 About the Author

AvatarDakota Madison has been writing since she learned to read and fell in love with books. When she’s not at her computer creating spicy new romances, Dakota is traveling to exotic locales or spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds.

Contacts

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Andrea Cooper: “The Garnet Dagger” and “Viking Fire”

Since The Garnet Dagger is written from Brock’s point of view, we have Celeste here today to answer a few questions that readers might not know.

Andrea: What did you think of Brock when you first saw him?

Celeste: Magical. He took my breath away. I felt compassion for him, which is why I healed him as soon as Father Morgan left. I could not leave him in pain and in such a weakened state. His dark hair hid his face, but I knew he wasn’t human—I healed him anyway even though at the time I didn’t know what darkness clouded his green eyes. I could have taken the dagger and left him there, but I felt such kindness for him that I couldn’t leave him to the whims of Father Morgan. His sarcasm, even while being tortured, made me feel proud even though I didn’t know him. I’d seen too many cower and whimper over the years that his words were refreshing.

garnetAndrea: Why didn’t you give the garnet dagger back to Brock?

Celeste: Well, he gave it to me. First, he didn’t say I couldn’t keep it. (She dusts off imaginary lint from her shirt, then looks up), Besides it belonged to me. Sort of.  It’s hard to explain, but it was as if someone broke off a piece of my soul and fused it into the dagger. I also knew in anyone else’s hands, it would bring ruin. In Brock’s it would either cause him to leave me or if he used it against me it would destroy him. If the Warloc took it, he would bring his reign of evil. Later, I offered to give it back, but Brock said I could keep it.

Andrea: Some say you have Brock wrapped around your finger.

Celeste: What? That’s insane. If that were true, he would have listened when I told him not to kill the Bergone. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. I also told him to leave once he confessed about what he thought the garnet dagger was for, yet he hung around and then followed me.

Andrea: When did you know Brock was the one?

Celeste: I knew before he did—or rather before he could admit it to himself.

Andrea: What did you do after you left Brock in the woods?

Celeste: Despite what happened to my aunt, I needed to see for myself if she was still alive or not. No doubt my aunt’s magic had blasted not only the Bergone, but herself and home as well. I had to be sure. I was careful in case the Warloc had laid a trap back there, but it was as I feared, she was dead.

I journeyed to a nearby village of my aunt’s friend and fellow witch. She wasn’t as experienced as my aunt, but I had no one left. The Warloc had killed everyone I was close to. For weeks I mourned my aunt and tried to forget about Brock. Then I studied her magic and practiced for the battle to come. I journeyed to the Warloc’s lands two days before Nivel and Brock arrived.

Andrea: What is your greatest regret?

Celeste: Sigh, there are too many. I guess it would be not telling Brock what I felt when I touched the dagger. Maybe he would have listened and still come up with the same conclusion that he did, maybe not. But I was too new at trusting others to take that chance at the time.

Andrea: What is a misconception readers may have of you?

Celeste: That I know all the answers. I don’t. Sometimes I just wing it and hope for the best. My instinct usually leads me on the right path. It’s only when I second guess that soft voice inside me that things go wrong.

Celeste: That I’m not kind. I am. It’s just whenever you’ve gone through years watching your kindness used as a weapon against so many innocent people for years, you learn to guard your feelings from others. I hope that by my actions; even if they are not understood at the time, show my intentions. I have only done what I have done to save mankind and Brock—even from themselves.

Andrea: What would be a romantic evening with you and Brock?

Celeste: That we would be able to make love all night, he doesn’t need sleep you know, and cuddle as we watched the sunrise. We wouldn’t have to go anywhere or have anyone, like Nivel, with us. We would be alone for an entire day. I get so tired of traveling and fighting the villain. I just want a night off with my love. To smell his musky pine scent and feel his hands on my body and kiss his full lips. To explore every inch of him with my hands and my lips. Taste him with my tongue and mouth.

Which reminds me…are we done here?

Andrea nods and Celeste leaves the room. Closing the door, she leaps into Brock’s arms and gives him a big kiss.

Interview With Andrea Cooper

authorWhat inspired you to start writing?

I wrote poems when I was fourteen until my senior year of high school. For novels, ironically, it was reading a historical romance that wasn’t logical in my opinion. The hero, a Viking, for no reason I could fathom just gave up his beliefs for the heroine. I thought I could write a better story, so I tried. However, I’ve always been a story-teller.  Earliest memory I have was in first grade, I was the kid my friends came to at recess and asked what we were going to play – or rather what plot and characters we were going to act out.

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing novels since my late twenties. Of course this was when I had a full-time job and a child so condensed down, it probably equals five years total writing time. But I’ve been making up stories and characters longer than I can remember.

What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

Read. Read the authors you love, read authors you hate – but understand why. Read writing manuals, take classes, join a critique group. Most importantly, if you have passion for writing do not let anyone discourage you—just keep trying. If you are a real writer, then you’ll write regardless if you are published are not because you can do nothing else.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

Since I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for the last three years, I don’t suffer from writer’s block; I suffer from lack of time and sleep. The only time I’ve writer’s block is when I have to write nonfiction then I’d rather do anything else 😉

What comes first: the plot or the characters?

Depends on the story.  For Viking Fire, my historical romance, it was the plot. What would happen if a feisty highborn Irish lass was forced to marry her enemy—a Viking? For The Garnet Dagger it was the character. Everyone knows what happens when a vampire bites a human…but what if the victim is Elvin?

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Mostly a pantser. First I come up with an idea, character, or a situation. Then I brainstorm and start thinking ‘What If’ questions. I do not plot per se, I have a general idea of where the story is going to go, and sometimes the ending will change slightly. I enjoy it when characters take over and guide me. However, if they get us lost, I pull out the dreaded outline and map out where we’ve been and where we’re going. Hopefully since there are surprises for me that come up when I write, it will be a surprise for the reader as well.

Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

Elva in Viking Fire starts off as only the handmaid in the story, or she was when I first started writing this novel. As her character unfolded as she tries to help Kaireen and Bram, so too did it unfold when I was writing. I had no idea of her secret (despite hints she gave me) until she let lose her hair – literally.

Are you working on something at present that you would like to tell us about?

I am working on revisions of the second book in The Garnet Dagger trilogy. Another historical romance set during 16th Century Japan, and two Viking romances one which I need to finish and the other edit.

What are you reading now?

Lover Eternal by J.R. Ward. I’ve never heard of her until recently on Goodreads so I wanted to see what everyone’s excitement was about. It took forever to get this book from the library.

What author or authors have most influenced your writing?

There are many, but I’ll name just a few: Terry Goodkind, Anne Bishop, Julie Garwood, Yasmine Galenorn, Kim Harrison, PC Cast, and Christine Feehan.

What is your work schedule like when writing?

I have a four year old and a nine month old, so my writing schedule is when the baby is sleeping and the other one is engrossed in playing—or after they’ve both gone to sleep.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Despite always making up stories and characters, I wanted to be a teacher. However, I think my belief was it would be a perfect class of kids who would love to learn and listen…and that’s not reality. I’m happy with my life now and am ecstatic about being a published author.

What is your favorite food? Least favorite? Why?

Mexican is my favorite food—or rather TexMex. I love spicy foods and cheese.  And chocolate, got have that in there too. Least favorite? Catfish or Tilapia—I like any other fish out there except those two.

What is one thing your readers would be most surprised to learn about you?

That I am one of those writers who had a drawer full of novels before I published my first one. I have eight completed novels, two have been published, and five others in various stages.

Is there a writer you idolize? If so, who?

There are many, but if I had to pick one, it would be Terry Goodkind. I fell in love with his Sword of Truth series and it inspired me to try my hand at writing a fantasy story, which became a paranormal romance, The Garnet Dagger and my first published novel.

What would we find under your bed?

Hopefully nothing. I banished the boogie man to the closet years ago, that’s why I always sleep with it closed 😉 It’s also good feng shui to have nothing under your bed, so it doesn’t hurt to follow that advice J

If your publisher offered to fly you anywhere in the world to do research on an upcoming project, where would you mostly likely want to go? Why?

Scotland. My ancestry on my mother’s side is Scottish. I would love to touch the old stones that make up the McLaughlin castle ruins and know my ancestors once lived there. It’s also a quick ride from there to England, Wales, Ireland, and France—so it would be like several trips at one time 😉

Do you have a favorite quote or saying?

Yes, I love Robert Frost’s quote: “No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader; no tears for the writer, no tears for the reader.” To me it means letting the characters come to life rather than playing dictator.

Do you write in multiple genres or just one? If just one, would you consider straying outside your genre?

Currently, I write in paranormal (with a historical setting) and historical romance. I’ve tried to write a contemporary novel, but I don’t enjoy reading those much. It’s difficult to do, in my opinion, because things can become dated very quickly. I’ve thought about writing YA as that is one of the genre’s I do enjoy reading besides historical, paranormal, and fantasy.

What is something you’d like to accomplish in your writing career next year?

I would like to write more and have three books published next year. Thankfully I already have them written, but am chipping away at edits.

When was the moment that you knew you had to be a writer?

After I read a historical novel, that wasn’t logical to me, I thought I could write a better story. However, it wasn’t until after I wrote my second historical novel that I knew I wanted to be a writer. I’ve always been a storyteller and have made up characters and plot since early childhood and have never stopped.

Every writer dreams of getting “the call.” What were you doing when yours came? Who got to hear the good news first?

I was at home with my three year old and one month old when I got “the call.” I was so excited that I didn’t believe it at first. My husband was the first one I told.

Who gave you the writing advice that sticks with you to this day?

The best writing advice I received was from an Elementary teacher. She said to read the last sentence on the last page of your writing first. Then read the sentence before that and so on. It’s hard to do, but excellent for editing.

Describe the “perfect hero.” What about the “perfect hero” for you?

The perfect hero is compassionate without being wimpy, intelligent without being cruel, brave without being reckless, and passionate without being compromising. It’s hard to find that balance.

The perfect hero for me is my husband. Especially when he watches the kids and cooks breakfast while letting me snooze on the weekend.

What are favorite pastimes?

Besides writing? I love to read. I don’t have nearly as much time as I would like. I also used to play video games (hack & slash, dungeon crawlers)…in fact I have the latest Diablo on my computer but with two kids under the age of four, I haven’t played in months.

What has been your biggest adventure to date?

Having my daughter. Even though I had two boys before her, she has been completely different from them.

What is the one modern convenience you can’t do without?

Though I love my dishwasher and microwave, I’d have to say my laptop. If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t be  able to write or check all the social media out there and would lose my mind much sooner than anything else.

Describe the ideal romantic evening.

Both kids in bed by 8pm and a babysitter at the house while my husband and I go have dinner and watch a movie. I know it’s not romantic to some, but if you have kids, you know it’s amazing to be able to chew your food and have a conversation and then just to snuggle with your honey while watching a good movie without someone calling “mom is the sun awake or asleep?”

About The Garnet Dagger

Everyone knows what happens when a vampire bites a human…but what if the victim is Elvin?

Forbidden to cross the Elvin barrier into human lands, Brock cannot sate his curiosity. Cursed by a vampyre bite that forces him to feed on the life-essence of others, he is unable to touch another without taking their life. Chained by prophesy, he must find a witch, pierce her heart, and draw her blood for his cure.

Celeste must escape the monks who have held her prisoner for years. Her magic has been kept dormant by her captors. An ancient powerful Warloc craves her powers. If he succeeds in devouring her magic, she and his world will die.

When Brock falls in love with Celeste before realizing her demise is his cure, will love triumph over his desire to be healed? Will he risk everything to save her from a Warloc, an oath breaker, who also wants her dead?

The Garnet Dagger Excerpt

I’ve known death. For over half a millennia, I escorted many to death at the end of my sword. In the eyes of the dying, I watched it shroud them. Foolishly, I thought many more eras would pass before death came for me. It came so swiftly that I could not run; I could not escape. At a village, dressed in human clothes, I took in everything. By observing for eons, I understood and spoke their language. The world of mankind fascinated me. Their hobbled homes burrowed into the ground.

Rocks crunched on top one another with thatched roofs woven from straw. Never had I seen a home or inn that was higher than three levels, as if they were afraid of the sky. I delayed my return to my people as I watched human jugglers bounce torches and knifes. It was autumn equinox and the festivities would continue well into the night. Children laughed as they chased each other. A trail of leaves from their costumes twirled after them. It was dark when I reached the forest. Since I was already late, I hiked uphill to a shortcut rather than take the long path back home. I didn’t need to alert any of my kind near the barrier at this hour. Liana would wonder why I was late.

Tonight was the two month anniversary of our hand twining ceremony. One more month as was custom, and then we’d be wed. A gasp rustled through the trees. The roots shot a warning through to me with stifled caution. Adjusting my pack, I continued on instead of changing back into my Elvin clothes. After I passed the border which kept humans from entering our land, then I’d change. In the distance, I heard a groan. Curious, I spun in the direction of the sound. The autumn wind breezed through my worn human clothes, chilling me. But someone needed help. I turned in the direction of the sounds. Whatever made the noise should be a few yards ahead.

I hiked slower than my normal speed, so as not to startle whatever human called out. My leather boots crunched upon dried, diseased leaves and bark. Horrified, I glanced up. Branches twisted around each other to suffocating. Lifeless limbs cracked in the wind. Flesh of the trees sloughed off in layers, exposing its bones. Gashes hollowed out chunks of warmth. Fragments of leaves clung to finger tips, marking sepulchers of the dying trees. Trees mourned with wails like splitting wood, and I brought my hands over my ears. I must flee before I became infected, they told me. Flee before the stain of this defilement creeps into you, they warned. Trees spoke to my kind, always had. Yet these trees were in such agony of death that I could not breathe. Felt as though my lungs had folded in on themselves, like a moth unable to break loose from its cocoon.

Nothing I could do for them, and if I lingered too long, whatever disease gnawed upon them may choke me. Where would I go if I carried something so foul as to devour trees from the inside out? I’d never return to Tamlon if I brought this infection with me. I drew away, but a movement at the base of a decaying tree to my right caught me. My night vision picked up the sight of a human. His sallow face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Poking out from rags lay his arms and legs, which resembled skin stretched over sticks. So cadaverous was his face, I’d have thought him dead if he hadn’t moved.

“Please,” he said and his voice sounded like cicada’s vibrations, “help me.”

“What ails you in this troubled place?” I wondered if my voice, foreign to my ears in speaking the human’s language, revealed my nature.

“I am lost.” His dark eyes crinkled around the corners. “Without strength to rise. If you would but assist me up, I’ll be on my way.”

I’d never touched a human on purpose before. Was it that that gave me pause, or dread that stilled my heart? My feet itched to flee. As soon as I helped him, then I’d leave. I gritted my teeth and reached a hand down.

His gnarled fingers snapped on my arm, making me wince. Jerking me forward, his face contorted. Surprised by his strength, I fell beside him. Blackness curled around me. Teeth, fangs, broke through the skin on my neck. Then I knew him for what he was, a vampyre.

The Garnet Dagger Book Trailer  http://youtu.be/ISi0u9LoseM

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About Viking Fire

In 856 CE, Ireland is a land of myth, magic, and blood. Viking raiders have fought the Irish for over half a century. Rival Irish clans promise only betrayal and carnage.

Kaireen, daughter of Laird Liannon, is suddenly forced into an arranged marriage with her sworn enemy, a Viking. She refuses to submit. With no mention of love, only land and the protection of her clan, she endeavors to get her betrothed banished from her country. Will love find its way around her stubborn heart?

Bram, the Viking, finds himself without future or inheritance as a younger son in his family. A marriage to the Laird’s daughter would grant him land if he swears fidelity and if his men will fight along with the Liannons against any foe—Irish or Viking. However, the Laird’s feisty daughter only holds animosity for him and his kind. Is marriage worth the battle scars of such a relentless opponent?

With the blame for a rival laird’s death treacherously set against the Liannons, Kaireen and Bram must find a way to lay aside their differences as an unforeseen darkness sends death snapping at their heels.

Viking Fire Excerpt

Viking_fireIreland 856 CE

“I renounce Father for this.” Kaireen threw the elderberry gown. Dressed only in her leine, she glared at the new gown on the stone floor.

“Shame on you and your children for speaking such.” Her handmaid, Elva, gathered the damask and then dusted off the rushes. “It’s a wonder one of the clim has not scolded you from your hearth for such talk.” She wore her white hair twisted in a chignon, underneath a linen head cloth. Strands of white hair poked out the sides of her covering.

“No, curse Father for a fool.” She plopped on her bed and a goose feather floated away. With a huff, she leaned against the oak headboard. Red curtains puffed like a robin’s chest around oak poles supporting her wooden canopy.

Her bare feet brushed against the stone floor. Why was she not born plain like her two older sisters? Already they had married and expected their second bairns by spring. Well, at least so far she had enjoyed twenty years of freedom. Neither of her sisters had had matrimonial dreams of love matches. Both were arranged marriages.

“You know your da arranged a marriage within a season.” Elva smirked.

Kaireen shook her head. “To another land holder,” and waved a hand in disgust, “not t-this heathen. Twice they raided our land in the last month alone. Many a raid has come from them. Now father wants me as wife to one of them?” She clenched her fists. “No, I will not marry this Viking.”

Elva smiled, reminding Kaireen of the rumors of her handmaid’s uncanny foresight.

Whispers of Elva making strange things happen and often blamed as the cause of Kaireen’s stubborn refusal to behave as a laird’s daughter should.

“You’ve not seen him yet.” Elva wiggled her brows.

“So?” Kaireen shrugged. “I would like to never see him.”

“Well then, would you not like to know if you have a handsome husband or not?” She waited for her response, but Kaireen scowled at her. Elva chuckled. “I would rather get a good look at him now than the morning after.

Kaireen’s ears heated. “I am not marrying.” She shook her head for emphasis. “So there will be no morning, nor night, nor wedding.”

“If he is handsome, I may fight you for him.” Elva smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Welcome to him either way.” Kaireen laughed.

Viking Fire Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/bpk2ZMGwJik

Crimson Romance ebooks | Amazon | B&N |Google Books

About the Author

Growing up in Houston, Texas, Andrea has always created characters and stories. But it wasn’t until she was in her late twenties that she started writing novels.

What happened that ignited the writing flame in her fingers? Divorced, and disillusioned by love songs and stories. They exaggerate. She thought. Love and Romance are not like that in the real world. Then she met her husband and realized, yes love and romance are exactly like the songs and stories say. She is now a happy wife, and a mom to three kids (two boys and a girl).

Andrea writes paranormal and historical romance. When not writing or reading, one may find Andrea dancing in Zumba.

She believes in the power of change and counting each moment as a blessing. But most importantly, she believes in love.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AndreaRCooper.author

Twitter: @AndreaRCooper

Website: www.AndreaRCooper.com

Goodreadshttp://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18104475-viking-fire

 

Christina Tetrault and “The Billionaire Princess”

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Today’s post is part of a Goddess Fish tour for Christina Tetrault’s The Billionaire Princess. One commenter from the tour will receive a $15 Amazon or BN.com gift card, so follow the other tour stops and comment often to increase your chances of winning!

About The Billionaire Princess

She was raised as an American Princess.

Following the betrayal of a former lover, Sara Sherbrooke swore off relationships, too afraid she would be used again. Instead she has devoted all her energy to succeeding in politics without relying on her family name. That is until one night in Hawaii with her brother’s best friend Christopher Hall.

He is a self-made billionaire.

Technological genius and CEO of Hall Technology, Christopher Hall first met Sara Sherbrooke when he and Jake Sherbrooke were college roommates. While attending Jake’s wedding in Hawaii, Christopher is reintroduced to Sara, a beauty who was once way out of his league. But now as the most eligible bachelor in Silicon Valley, the only thing stopping Christopher from pursuing Sara is the thought of betraying his best friend.

As they work together to promote a new education initiative, neither can deny the attraction between them. But will their growing romance be worth all of the consequences?

Excerpt

Cover_The Billionaire Princess“Really? I didn’t recognize any of them.”

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer. “Then you don’t listen to the right music. I’ll have to introduce you to some good music.”

The moon provided just enough light for him to see her eyes searching his face for something. “I might hold you to that,” she said teasingly.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and he watched as her tongue darted out to moisten them. Overhead the first volley of fireworks exploded, but the sound barely registered through the haze surrounding him. Christopher leaned toward her as if pulled by an invisible magnet.

“Anytime.” He tried to remember all the reasons he shouldn’t kiss her again, but his brain refused to concentrate on anything except her lips. Lips he had every intention of tasting again unless she stopped him. It hadn’t been his plan for this evening. He wanted her to have time and space to consider things. Yet he knew it was now inevitable.  Only two things would prevent it, Sara herself or the end of the world.

Another firework exploded overhead but neither turned to look. Both focused only on each other. Reaching out he placed a hand on her shoulder, her skin warm and smooth like velvet beneath his palm. Slowly he pulled her toward him. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.” He managed to get out as he lowered his head toward Sara.

She answered with a simple shake of her head.

“Good,” he spoke the single word before settling his lips on hers.

Her mouth tasted like the strawberries she’d had for dessert. Wrapping his arms around her waist he pulled her closer. The scent of her perfume teased his senses as she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him. In the night sky fireworks exploded, bathing the sky in color. Each explosion mimicked the ones going off in his head. Needing to deepen the connection, he teased the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened them and then plunged in. Slowly, their tongues explored and mated while at the same time he dug his fingers into her thick silky hair.

As the firework display approached its finale, the sounds of the cheering crowd gradually penetrated the desire engulfing his mind. He needed to stop while he still could. One didn’t make out with a woman like Sara Sherbrooke in the middle of a very public beach surrounded by onlookers. There was no way to know who was watching. So even though it took almost all his determination, Christopher pulled his mouth away and let his hands drop to her shoulders. For a moment Sara’s eyes remained closed and her lips slightly apart. When she did open her eyes, he saw the total confusion and he knew the exact moment she realized where they were and what they’d been doing.

“I’ve been thinking a lot since yesterday,” Sara said, her eyes not meeting his.

About the Author

authorpicI wrote my first story with characters similar to those in the Sweet Valley Twins books at the age of 10 on my grandmother’s manual typewriter. As I got older my stories and characters became more mature. During my freshman year at UMass Dartmouth, I read my first romance novel and fell in love with the genre. I have been writing contemporary romance ever since.

Today I live with my husband, three beautiful daughters and two dogs in Massachusetts. Whenever I have a free moment you’ll find me either reading a romance novel or working on my most current story

Contacts

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Blog • Pinterest

Available

Amazon • Amazon.uk • Barnes & Noble • iTunes • Kobo • AllRomance eBooks

Interview With Edie Hart and “One Bad Day”

Susana: What inspired you to start writing?

Edie: I have always wanted to write and as I’ve gotten older I’ve always regretted not trying. I decided that I wasn’t getting any younger and I sat down and wrote One Bad Day

Susana: How long have you been writing?

Edie: I’ve written my whole life, but have never had anything published.

Susana: What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

Edie: I’m just starting out so I don’t know if advice from me is valuable. All I can say is that you’ll never know unless you try.  😉

Susana: Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

Edie: All the time. I get stuck on scenes or trying to get from point A to point B. Sometimes I take a break and it comes to me. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a solution. Most of the time I come up with solutions in the shower or doing something else that’s routine. It seems like it helps if I mull it over for awhile.

Susana: What comes first: the plot or the characters?

Edie: It depends on the story. I had plot come first in One Bad Day, but characters first in some of my upcoming stories.

Susana: Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Edie: I do a little of both. I write better if I have a little bit of direction, so I will do a rough outline and then start writing…  sometimes the story goes in a different direction than it was meant to.

Susana: Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

Edie: The hero is lightly based on my husband.

Susana: Are you working on something at present that you would like to tell us about?

Edie: I have a couple of stories going right now. I’m working on Burg’s story (Book 2 in the One Day series) and another story that just wouldn’t leave me alone.

Susana: What are you reading now?

Edie: I am reading Milly Taiden’s Wolf Fever.

Susana: What author or authors have most influenced your writing?

Edie: I love Milly Taiden and Jill Shalvis. There are tons and tons of really good authors out there right now.

Susana: What is your work schedule like when writing?

Edie: Right now my schedule is hectic because my kids are home for the summer. I basically write wherever and whenever I can.  😉

Susana: What did you want to be when you grew up?

Edie: Back when I was really little I wanted to be a genie. As I got a little older, I wanted to be a librarian. I’ve always loved books and I used to play library for hours.

Susana: What is your favorite food? Least favorite? Why?

Edie:I love cupcakes. I have a love/hate relationship with them. They taste so good, but it only takes a couple and I’m gaining weight.

Susana: Describe the “perfect hero.” What about the “perfect hero” for you?

Edie: For me the perfect hero changes with my mood.  😉  When I’m mellow, he’s romantic and charismatic, when I’m “frisky”, he’s right there with me. One of the things I love about writing is that you can make each hero someone you would love to be with, yet they are all different.

Susana: What are favorite pastimes?

Edie: I love to go to my son’s traveling little league games and my daughter’s dance performances. I love curl up with a good book and a kitty by my side (I have 3) with a bowl of moose tracks frozen yogurt.  (I’m addicted to it.)

Susana: What has been your biggest adventure to date?

Edie: I would have to say having children. It’s not what you think it’s going to be and you never know what’s going to happen from one day to the next.

Susana: What is the one modern convenience you can’t do without?

Edie: I love my Nook.  : )

About One Bad Day

one_bad_dayTessa is having one seriously bad day. After agreeing to dress as a cheesy mascot at a convention for her boss, her clothes get stolen, she gets chased through a sinister parking garage, and her apartment gets broken into and turned upside down.

Gray, an off-duty police officer, can’t resist the sexy legs he sees in costume at a hotel convention. When he catches sight of her running for her life through a dark car lot, he’s determined to find out what her story is and ends up promising to keep Tessa safe…even if that means taking her home with him.

Available

Breathless Press • Amazon • AllRomance • BookStrand

Excerpt

Gray stepped outside of the hotel ballroom hoping the air would be cooler out there. He hated stuffy gatherings. Hell, he hated weddings. How two people could think they’d love each other forever was beyond him. Gray didn’t do love. Which was why he was stag at a co-worker’s wedding. He’d originally planned to invite Monique, but several months back she’d become demanding and talked about moving into his place with hearts and flowers in her eyes. So he’d ended it. Deep down, he’d known that she didn’t really want him. She wanted any warm body that would take care of her. She had slowly been trying to mold him into some GQ tycoon, telling him what to wear, how to act, and even going as far as telling him what he needed to do career-wise.

A loud crash on the other side of the hall caught Gray’s attention. In the open ballroom across the way he saw legs. Glorious legs in strappy high heels. The beautiful legs were tangled on the floor and attached to an ass that was just as gorgeous. After taking a closer look, Gray realized that above the amazing ass was an enormous, white light bulb-shaped head with blue googly eyes. It had blonde hair and wore a glittery purple hat. The tangled-up legs and heels were flailing around in a pile of what looked like empty light bulb boxes. Several gentlemen nearby were quick to help Legs get her feet beneath her. From their smiles and laughter he could tell that they were all quite happy to be of assistance. Gray didn’t blame them.

He watched Legs find her balance in those high heels, and with a little wiggle and tug of her skirt she went on her way.

About the Author

Edie Hart was born in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago, where she now resides with her husband, two children, dog, and three cats. After spending her childhood making up stories in her head, she finally decided to put them on paper. What came of it was her first novella, One Bad Day. Edie is a die-hard romantic and believes that everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally—both in print and real life.

Edie also admits that “Edie Hart” is a pen name and an alter ego to an otherwise boring wife and mother. Edie is 20 pounds lighter, loves to skydive, travels to foreign places, and is a total sex kitten as compared to the uninteresting other half who is none of those things.

In reality the counterpart of Edie is a lackluster 40-something-year-old, whose main goal is to keep The Big One (The Boy) from torturing The Little One (The Girl). This week he hit her in the head with a 12-pack of Juicy Juice. Last week he left ravioli handprints on the back of her white T-shirt. The week before that he told her she was adopted and she believed him.

To learn more about her, and find out what The Big One and The Little One are up to, visit her via her here:

Website • Facebook • Twitter

Rebecca Trogner and “The Last Keeper’s Daughter”

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Today’s post is part of a Goddess Fish tour for Rebecca Trogner’s The Last Keeper’s Daughter. One commenter from the tour will receive a $50 Amazon gift card, so follow the other tour stops and comment often to increase your chances of winning!

About The Last Keeper’s Daughter

Born into old money, Lily Ayres lives at Waverly, her family’s estate situated at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Paris, Virginia.  She is a strange, small, almost mute, young woman who has no idea that her father has given her to the Vampire King Krieger.  Walter Ayres is the King’s Keeper and part of a secret society of historians who unearth, preserve, and attempt to understand relics of long forgotten civilizations.

Lily has never felt comfortable in the human world, but after she suspiciously falls down a flight of stone steps, and is healed and claimed by Krieger, she realizes there is another world.  In this Other Realm she feels a sense of belonging, and begins to untwine the mysterious event which left her mentally and psychologically damaged.  When Walter disappears in England, Lily works with human and supernatural beings to uncover his whereabouts.  With each new discovery, she is pulled deeper into the vortex of magic, intrigue, and dark desires that permeates the supernatural world.  The revelations revealed unfold a story of deception and betrayal that threaten to tear the thin veil between the supernatural and human world asunder.

Excerpt

 Cover for Last Keeper's Daughter“You said, ‘my time’. You mean when you were human? How old are you?”

“I was born in the reign of Augustus Caesar.”

Her mind furiously worked through her history class timeline. “Before Christ?”

“Roughly two thousand years ago.”

There had to be a million questions she should ask, important things, and yet none of them came to mind.

“I thought people were smaller, less healthy back then, but you’re huge.”

He laughed, and she liked the sound of it. “I came from a tribe of warriors. We were considered giants in our time. The lands have changed hands many times since then but it was once called Germania under the Roman Empire.”

“Barbarians,” the word slipped out. She hadn’t meant to say it.

Krieger gave a wolf’s grin. “We were called that, and many other things. After my human death, I became a centurion.”

“But weren’t you fighting the Romans?”

He nodded. “I was to be sold for the gladiatorial games. A Roman took an interest in me, and the rest is history.”

“Did you want to become a vampire?”

She could see the question had caught him off guard.

“I wanted to live, and so I have.”

“And Liam, is he a werewolf?”

“He was born a werewolf. He became a Vantor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When you feel more comfortable with Liam, you should ask him about the details. I will say that he and his pack are werewolves with vampire blood running through their veins. They are one of the most dangerous of the Others.”

Available

Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Books A Million

About the Author

Rebecca Trogner PictureRebecca Trogner lives in the Shenandoah Valley region of Virginia, and frequently crosses the Blue Ridge Mountains that were the inspiration for Krieger’s home. She always dreamed of being a writer, but got sidetracked by the day-to-day adventures of life. With the encouragement of her family, she has finished her first novel and is currently writing the next book in The Last Keeper’s Daughter series. Rebecca lives with her husband and stepson, and a rescue dog named Giblet. To find out more about the author visit www.rebeccatrogner.com.

Contacts

Website • Blog • Goodreads • Twitter

“Wanted: One Ghost” by Loni Lynne

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Loni will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B&N gift card (winner’s choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Comment on the other tour stops to increase your chance of winning!

July 15:  The Eternal Scribe
July 16:  Andi’s Book Reviews
July 17:  Straight from the Library
July 18:  Dawn’s Reading Nook Blog
July 19:  Punya Reviews…
July 22:  Romance on a Budget
July 23:  Storm Goddess Book Reviews and More
July 23:  STOP 2  Queen of All She Reads
July 24:  Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews
July 25:  Long and Short Reviews
July 26:  Susana’s Morning Room

James Addison talks about his role in my debut paranormal romance, Wanted: One Ghost from Crescent Moon Press, a paranormal/fantasy romance with some romantic spice and ghostly intrigue:

Loni Lynne:  Thank you for being here today, James.  I love your costume. It’s so Americana.

James: Actually, this is my normal clothing. I’m most comfortable in breeches and linen shirts. I’m having tea with the Friends of Kings Mill, Maryland Ladies Auxiliary later today.  I’m part of the festivities for Kings Mill Days these next few weeks. Dr. Freelane from the historical society thought I would make a perfect ‘James Addison’.

Loni Lynne: Well, she was right. Who better to play you than—‘you’.

James: My thoughts exactly!  So, what would you like to know?

Loni Lynne: Your character—

James: I have superb character! (He preens and smiles.)  It was a joke.

Loni Lynne: Of course.  As I was saying, your character is unique.  You are over two hundred and fifty years old?

James: Nearly 271 years of age actually. I was born December 16 in the year of our Lord, 1742 in England.

Loni Lynne: Wait a minute! You don’t look a day over thirty-five.

James: (Laughing) Actually I was killed at the age of thirty and two.  I’ve been haunting Kings Mill, Maryland since.  I think in whatever realm I was in, there is no sense of time.

Loni Lynne: So you’ve been here since 1774?

James: As a spirit…yes.  It wasn’t until Dr. April Branford rescued me from my hellish wanderings a few days ago that I was able to interact with others.  It’s rather odd really. I’ve been here, seen the changes in time, and yet have not been able to interact at all. I was as shocked as she to realize she could see me, much less communicate with me.

Loni Lynne: Dr. Branford, tell me about her.

James: Ah yes! She’s saucy and sweet, and as intelligent as I’ve ever known a person to be—and has this unusual gift for being able to touch things and tell their past. She calls it psychometry.  In my day she might have been considered a witch.

Loni Lynne: You were a ghost when she met you?

James: It was a ghost tour, really. She actually thought I was one of the tour guides. I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. It might have frightened her. So when we met up again at the cemetery on All Hallows Eve, I didn’t think anything about it until—(he grins and shakes his head)

Loni Lynne: Until what?

Cover_WantedJames: I’ll let you all read that scene for yourselves:

The roots of the firs were tangled and exposed in areas, moss and lichen grew around the bottom of the obelisk grave marker, a layer of dead branches and fan-like fir needles surrounded the base. April could read the month and year of his death but the date was a bit obscure. 

She buried her nose into a fresh tissue as she held back a sneeze so she didn’t alert the rest of the group of her whereabouts. 

Wiping her nose she knelt in front of the tombstone and placed the end of the flashlight between her teeth to give her direct light on what she was doing. The soggy ground soaked into the knees of her jeans. She could hear the faint voices of the group from just over the rise, yet she felt a prickling of unease. Glancing around, she didn’t see anything.

She wiped moisture from the front of the headstone with her scarf, revealing the blackened embossing on the aged marble. Angling the paper over part of the intricate design, she fumbled with the pencil in her gloved hand. The cumbersome gloves had to go. Removing the offending obstacles and tossing them to the side, April rubbed her pencil over the markings, steadying herself against the marble with her other hand. 

A jolt of heat coursed from her palm to her shoulder and she jerked back. Falling onto her bottom, she dropped the pencil and paper. Nearly choking on the flashlight, she threw the light to the side and fought to catch her breath. Still tingling from the shock, she shook her arm to relieve the pain. 

She picked up the flashlight again and slowly approached the gravestone. Her heart thudded in her ears. Reaching out for the paper and pencil she had dropped, she kept her eye on the stone as if waiting for it to move. Cautiously, she leaned forward and touched it. The marble was as cold and even-surfaced as an old tombstone in late October should be. 

Confused, she inched away on her knees, backing away from the headstone, a frightening wariness settling over her as she slowly stood up and continued moving cautiously away from the monument.

“Henry Samuel is not worthy of your fascination, Dr. Branford.”

April gasped and whirled, shining the flashlight into the night. There, mere inches in front of her, stood her mysterious tour guide. A moment of relief caused her to catch her breath before the toe of her boot caught on a loose tree root, sending her falling through a chilly mist of air. She landed on her hands and knees. 

Quickly, she turned over and stared up at her re-enactor, who stood between her and Henry Samuel’s grave. So close she should have fallen into him. And then the truth of the situation hit her. She crab crawled away from him and the tombstone, her eyes wide with horror. 

She couldn’t think. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Her voice shook with the only words she could say. 

He smiled down at her, tilting his tricorne back on his head, revealing those damn hypnotic eyes.

 “I haven’t heard a lady say that to me for some time. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch,” he preened.

“You’re…not…real,” April gasped, holding her chest as she tried desperately to find her footing. “You’re…a…ghost. You really are a ghost!”

 He shrugged. “I suppose so. No one has told me any differently. But then no one has been able to talk to me in two hundred and thirty-eight years. You’re the first.” With an elegant flourish, he bowed to her.

“Oh my God!” She was shaking so badly she couldn’t move. Her muscles had frozen. The seat of her jeans was wet but she wasn’t sure if she had peed herself or the damp ground had soaked into them.

He extended his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help her up, but she only stared at the proffered limb. He sighed.

“Of course. It would do me no good to try and help you up since I’m…”

“…not real. You’re not real. This isn’t happening to me.” April closed her eyes and tried to repeat the mantra over and over again, hoping her mental state would finally sort out the situation and thrust her back into reality. She opened her eyes. He was still there, his infuriatingly charming smile, just short of a laugh, etched into one devilishly handsome face. 

Scrambling for purchase she grabbed her articles, keeping a close eye on her specter and quickly walked backwards down the knoll until she was on the cobblestone path. She had to get out of here. Where was the damn exit!

Loni Lynne: But you’re not a ghost now.

James: No. That is something April will have to explain but I’m not sure she knows all the details either. I still think it has to do with Fate. I’ve been dead for 238 years but never went beyond the boundaries of Kings Mill’s historical district or what I knew of my time on Earth. Then suddenly, I meet her, a historical researcher with a unique gift and I’m born anew.

Loni Lynne: What is next for James Addison and April Branford?

James: (Looking at his pocket watch) Oh dear! Look at the time…I really must be going. I shouldn’t let the ladies auxiliary down now, should I?

Loni Lynne: I get it…you can’t say.

James: Let’s just say, tell me how the story ends.  I’m anxious to know what happens, myself.

Loni Lynne: James, thank you for taking time out and talking with us today. I look forward to seeing what takes place between you and April.

James: (Placing his tri-corne on his head and winks) As do I.  I would love to have readers from your interview leave me notes. It has been such a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to associate with proper society, it would be grand if they could suggest some modern day activities that I might enjoy. I do love to read but April has introduced me to a typing machine that is connected to the world—no clue what to do with it. There is something called a tely-vision in which I can see various performances without leaving my home? I’m looking for plays that may interest me. All comments would be welcome and appreciated.

Loni Lynne:  I’ll make sure we have viewers leave suggestions for you. There are many great books and shows that might interest you.

Please, leave a suggestion for a book or television show that you think James Addison might like to enjoy. He would love to hear from you. Remember, there is a $15 Gift Card to be raffled off during this tour. Be sure to leave a comment to be entered.

You may purchase Wanted: One Ghost from these fine distributors:

Amazon or Barnes & Noble

About Wanted: One Ghost

Stuck in ghostly limbo for 238 years, James Addison can’t move on to an afterlife.  After being falsely accused of treason and executed, fate’s cursed him to remain an earth-bound specter until he meets a historian sent to research his past.

Distrustful of fate, Dr. April Branford wants to be taken seriously, but her unique ability to divine history by touching objects seriously compromises her credibility. Her latest assignment?  James Addison, a legendary colonial ladies’ man with a shadowy past.  Without much to go on, she doesn’t hold out much hope to discover the man behind the legend until the day she accidentally touches him and brings him back to life.

With the help of family and ghosts from James’s past, they unravel the truth. But after falling in love and with time running out, it’s hard for April to believe in fate and a future where forever is now.

Excerpt #3

April’s digital camera came to life and she switched the setting to playback, scrolling through the photos. She’d taken a bevy of pictures, ones of the hanging tree, the colonial storefronts and historical houses, the front and back of the courthouse. She came across the last picture, the one she’d taken right outside, and then it went back to her older photos. Everything was there but the picture of her guide. She gasped and thumbed frantically through the pictures again.

“What’s wrong, April dear?” Her aunt got up from the chair and came over to her, bringing her cup of tea with her.

“It was here…I mean, the picture is here but he isn’t.” The photo showed part of the lamp post she’d had her guide stand in front of. There was a bright, fuzzy ball of light obscuring part of the gaslight. Could it be a possible reflection off the light and her flash? She’d captured him in the frame, she was positive!

Her aunt looked over her arm at the frame revealing the street along with the courthouse. April didn’t like the knowing smile and twinkle to her aunt’s eye. “Oh, he’s there,” she said, peering up from over her tea cup.

“What do you mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“You’ve managed to capture what we call residual paranormal energy. See the spot of fuzzy light in the middle of the picture? You’ve captured an image of a paranormal orb. Welcome to the family, April. You’ve seen your first ghost.”

AuthorPicAbout the Author

Loni Lynne is a stay at home mom, domestic goddess, U.S. Navy Veteran and lover of all things vintage/shabby-chic/Victorian and antique. From china cups and tea sets to lace doilies crocheted by hand (her grandmother made the best) she believes a touch of femininity never goes out of style.

Growing up all over the country she’s been blessed with experiencing a good deal of culture and lifestyles. Much like her personality, she has eclectic tastes in what she likes to read and write. There is no ‘one’ genre in which she settles for.

God and fate have been big influences in her life. Both have taken her to places she never thought she’d be, both in the physical sense and in the spiritual. She wrote brief stories and snippets of life as it happened to her in her youth, and encouraged by her teachers, continued to write. Blessed with a loving supportive family growing up, she was able to explore her options which at times have been put into use in her stories. The Navy–and fate, afforded her the opportunity to meet her Army, “Annapolis-native” husband and team up with him to parent two beautiful daughters.

Years later, her husband gave her the best birthday present ever–a laptop, a membership to Romance Writers of America and a goal to complete a manuscript for submission by her next birthday. She did it. A few years later she was blessed with one of those novels, Wanted: One Ghost, as her debut novel.

Believe in Fate.

Contacts

Website • Publisher Website • Twitter • Facebook