What happens when an everyday Cinderella makes a play for the prince? A moment of madness. That’s all muralist Sunny Anderson expected when she donned a glittering mask and a fabulous gown to crash the gala at Manhattan’s newest boutique hotel. Project manager Michael Wolfe has no idea that the beauty staring up at the mural on the ballroom ceiling is also the artist who painted it. He’s captivated and she’s willing, but when their moment of madness on the sofa in his suite comes to an abrupt end, his princess is off and running, leaving nothing behind but a pair of earrings. He’s determined to find her again, but all he has to do is look closer at the woman painting the mural in his office to see that the one he needs is standing right in front of him. Excerpt Sunny’s feet moved of their own accord and she stared straight ahead, horrified and thrilled at the same time. Wondering what she was playing at and not at all surprised when he fell into step beside her. This was why she wasn’t ready to leave, she realized. She was enjoying herself too much. Enjoying the fact that as Sonja she could do anything or say anything. Be shocking and sexy, and make Michael Wolfe sit up and take notice. She glanced over at him as they walked, feeling beautiful, powerful, but most of all desirable. Because if that wasn’t hunger she saw in those dark eyes, then she’d been out of circulation for far too long. Which was a distinct possibility given that her last sexual encounter had been almost a year ago in the back of Vince Cerqua’s convertible when the top wasn’t the only thing that wouldn’t go up. She’d spent the drive home assuring him that it happened to men all the time; at least that was what she heard in the tearoom. She felt her face warm, knowing instinctively that Michael’s top would never let him down. Not that she wanted to find out. Not really. Not now, at any rate. “Where will you be going in the morning?” he asked. “New Jersey.” He drew his head back and she laughed. “There’s a theater group I’m rather fond of. After that, it’s anyone’s guess. I’m just a wanderer. Never in one place long enough to plant a garden as they say.” “Is that what you’d like to do? Plant a garden?” “Yes,” she said, slipping in a touch of Sunny, but staying true to Sonja. “Of course, with so many emerging artists, I’m not thinking about that right now.” He stopped and took her hand. “What are you thinking about?” Trouble. And sex. Mostly sex. For all the good it did her. Truth to tell, Sunny wasn’t the kind to have a one-night stand. She was conservative in her thinking and cautious when it came to matters of the heart. She was the kind who delivered hampers at Christmas, painted faces at the community center on Halloween, and made sure her organ-donor card was signed. No question about it, she was Sunny the good: Balanced. Friendly. And utterly predictable. But Sonja? Now there was a real vixen. A woman who traveled the world, took risks every day, and was never, ever predictable. It seemed a shame to make her leave the ball so early when she was only in town for one night. And Sunny had the rest of her life to spend being good. Michael ran his thumb across hers and the pull was stronger than ever, bringing her back a step. After all, it wasn’t as though he was a total stranger, some masked man she picked up at the sushi bar. This was Michael Wolfe, Beast of Brighton, Terror of the Tradesmen. And she already knew he looked good without a shirt. Maybe Hugh was right. Maybe a moment of madness was good for the soul. The music changed again, the singer launching into a slow, sultry torch song that begged an answer to the question women had been asking for centuries: what is it with men and commitment? Sunny had wrestled with that issue herself for years, convinced that the boy she’d loved too much would come back for her one day. Pale and contrite, wanting nothing more than to love her the way he should have all along. But commitment wasn’t on her mind at all when she twined her fingers with Michael’s and gave him Sonja’s best come-hither smile. “I’m thinking we should go to your place,” she said, and was sure she was floating as they headed for the door. AUTHOR Bio and Links: Lynda Simmons is a writer by day, college instructor by night and a late sleeper on weekends. She grew up in Toronto reading Greek mythology, bringing home stray cats and making up stories about bodies in the basement. From an early age, her family knew she would either end up as a writer or the old lady with a hundred cats. As luck would have it, she married a man with allergies so writing it was. With two daughters to raise, Lynda and her husband moved into a lovely two storey mortgage in Burlington, a small city on the water just outside Toronto. While the girls are grown and gone, Lynda and her husband are still there. And yes, there is a cat - a beautiful, if spoiled, Birman. When she's not writing or teaching, Lynda gives serious thought to using the treadmill in her basement. Fortunately, she's found that if she waits long enough, something urgent will pop up and save her - like a phone call or an e-mail or a whistling kettle. Or even that cat just looking for a little more attention! Amazon Author Page www.lyndasimmons.com Goodreads Linda will be awarding one randomly chosen winner, via rafflecopter, a $50 Amazon/BN.comgift card. Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/vbt-just-way-you-arent-by-lynda-simmons.html Story for Two Was Pixar’s Monster University for the kids—or their thirty-something parents, nostalgic for their college days? I know I enjoyed it… and I think my daughter did. I know my nephews did (not in small part because they liked watching their dad roll around on the floor in hysterics), even though they didn’t understand all of the background. My wife and I read a lot with our kids. Even to our toddler before bed (when immobilized with a bottle—don’t tell our pediatrician). At some point we got into a rhythm of reading three books a night. This isn’t so bad when the picture books are short, but when we advanced to chapter books and novels…? So we went to three chapters. About a half-hour every night. One bonus of our daughter growing older is the opportunity to read books that are more interesting to us. That half-hour a night is, for the most part, our only time to sit and read for ourselves, too. Once done, there are dishes to wash, toys to pick up, lunches to make, yada yada. And then we collapse in bed to get a half-decent night’s sleep before having to get up early to prepare for the day. So we want to read something fun and enjoyable for both us and our daughter. Dora the Explorer has its niche, but I don’t want Boots dancing in my dreams at night. We started searching for good novels to share each night. The Wizard of Oz by Frank Baum was one of the first. I was trepidatious initially, recalling dark memories of the movie. Yet the book proved charming and enchanting (with only a few dark bits to gloss over). From there we moved on to others. I soon discovered that the sweet-spot where a book charmed me and my sensitive daughter was very hard to find. Harry Potter and Narnia (The Magician’s Nephew) are too dark and violent still. Also, Narnia had to be translated to contemporary American English for her to understand and even then it was slow going. It was even worse for my wife, who reads books in Spanish (many end up being translations from English). A disclaimer: my daughter is one of those children who can’t see Disney’s A Little Mermaid because she will have nightmares. We have to be very careful about the movies and books we read. I think this is perfectly okay. Too much material ostensibly for children is too violent and too dark—in my opinion. And these elements aren’t needed to have a good, popular story. Anyone not heard of Frozen? Aspiring authors are coached to write for a specific, ideal reader. Don’t write to the masses, don’t try to appease differing tastes. No person is truly unique. If Bob likes it, odds are good a few hundred thousand other people will, too. Very well. What about writing for two? As in, for a child and her adult minion? Isn’t that what Pixar does on the big screen to great success? It should be doable. It seems to me that kids enjoy something more, a story in this case, when their parents or older people, in general, also enjoy the story. So long as it is suitable for them. This, writing a story for two, was what I set out to accomplish when I started writing the first version of Elf Hills. My daughter was barely four when I started, six and a half when finished. The story grew and changed with her, but I never let go of my initial goal. And she loved it. My wife loved it, too. Certainly they are biased (although my daughter can be brutally honest), but they were my target audience. Success! I could have just tried harder to find good books to read together. I know there are many. In my own defense, I did. Sheesh, in the time it took me to write one, we read hundreds (counting all types of books). One novel that surprised me (because I thought it might be too mature for my daughter) was Flora & Ulysses by Kate DiCamillo. It hit the sweet-spot; we both loved it. And so there you go, it is definitely doable. I cherish story time and, as an author, want to continue to write books—novels—that can be enjoyed by adult and child together. It is fun to talk about the story during the day and imagine what is going to happen next in that night’s reading time. In my experience, young children can and will follow novels that are engaging and relevant for them. They may squirm, but elements of the story will stick in surprising ways. Elf Hills by S.S. Dudley Available at Amazon · The ebook price is $0.99, paperback $8.99. · Kindle version and paperback are available from Amazon. · ePub, PDF, Kindle and other versions are available from Smashwords here: Smashwords iBooks B&N Scribd · Folks who sign up for the author’s newsletter at his web-site can have the ebook free. · Folks who purchase through the author’s web-site (Kindle, ePub, PDF; via payhip.com) and share their purchase via social media can have it 50% off. · iBooks and B&N coming soon. Blurb: Something strange, something magical, is going on in the dusty hills behind the small town of Villaloma. Yet each time Linda Peters puts on her running shoes and sets out to find the enchanted kingdom she imagines—full of dancing elves, unicorns, and more—something stops her. And with school starting soon, she only has a few more chances to really search the hills. While Linda’s frustration and doubt grow, her cousin, Nugu, looks for answers in his books and wonders if maybe, just maybe, Linda’s stories are for real. The day finally arrives when Linda can run far, the day she is sure she will find her magic city. But when she and Nugu feel their goal must lie just beyond the next hill, they only find more hill. Is it all a figment of an over-active imagination; a wistful fantasy? Or is there truly something magical in those hills that only the strong of heart—and leg—can discover? Excerpt Excerpt from Elf Hills © 2014 by S. S. Dudley From the Prologue: This fairy tale, as you might have guessed already, takes place on a hill. Or, rather, on many hills and a mountain or two in Northern California, near what people call the Great Valley. One hill in particular stands out, though, because that is where everything started. It was a nice hill; well rounded, not too high, not too low. It was distinctly a hill, snuggled up against a mountain like a nursing cub to its resting mother. For the most part this hill was well-dressed with dark green oak trees and tall grasses, usually yellowed and dry except for the four or five wet months of the year. Along one side, a seasonal creek slipped out and down into the plain. Here the vegetation—red-stemmed manzanita, prickly blackberry bushes, and other shrubs—was thick and difficult to move through. From afar, the hill was not remarkable; it had many siblings stretching to the north and south as far as the eye could see. This hill was special, though. For one, a strange—some said magical—copse of trees stood near the base of the hill where the creek emerged. These trees were short, had long, dark-green leaves, and bore bright yellow fruit that, if eaten, were said to imbue a person with the strength of ten men. For another, the hill was haunted. On certain nights of the year a white light would shine from the very top of the hill. It was brighter than the brightest star; brighter even than a full moon, perhaps, and it cast long shadows across the plain. The first people that lived in the area told many stories about that hill, the light, and the spirits that lived there. AUTHOR Bio and Links: S. S. Dudley grew up in Wyoming, USA, an avid reader and lover of the outdoors. He studied at the University of Wyoming and the University of Illinois. He started his first book (an epic fantasy hand-written in with a blue fountain pen…) when he was 13, but never finished it. At some point (as his mother recently reminded him), he decided that he needed to go do something (like get a job) for a while before he could, or should, write. He did, and spent time in Colombia, Panamá, Antarctica and the dark recesses of large science buildings on college campuses. That done, he now writes, lives and runs in Northern California with his wife and two children. He can be found at http://www.ssdudley.com http://www.facebook.com/author.ssdudley and on twitter at @SS_dudley. The author will be giving one randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter a $50 Amazon/BN.comgift card.
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/12/vbt-elf-hills-by-ss-dudley.html Cinnamon Smith looks up from the counter of SpecialTeas, the teashop she operates with her college roommate. Heading her way is the heartbreaker who dated, dumped and deserted her sister years ago. But now Tom Marco is the general manager of the Imperial Hotel-Casino and a standing order from them could save their struggling business. The upscale property is up for a major industry award and Tom needs a lady to escort to the awards banquet. It’s only one night, right? And he is so good-looking . . . Fate has brought the hometown girl Tom fell for years ago back into his life and this time the former Army Ranger is determined their story will end differently. Criminal activity at the Imperial and the storm of the century put their lives in danger. Someone is playing for keeps and Tom and Cinnamon are in his crosshairs. Excerpt: “Yeah, I know. Not a couple, not interested. Right?” Cinnamon caught her breath as Magdalena held the door for her and Tom turned to greet her. She fiddled with her skirt, buying a moment to compose herself. The midnight-black tux hung on him like it had been custom-tailored. Maybe it had. He probably had any number of black-tie events to attend. And she was wearing a dress from a secondhand shop. Automatically she extended her hand as he held out his. He tilted his head, regarding her as he drew her to him, a smile deepening at the corner of his mouth. The green glint in his eyes that had once haunted her dreams was back. “You look wonderful.” “So do you.” She flushed and bit her lip. “I mean . . .” “Yeah, it’s a little like prom, isn’t it?” “I wish I had a camera to take a picture of you two.” Magdalena was grinning. “But the photographers at the banquet should love you.” Damn, it wasn’t fair how the tuxedo accentuated the dark line of his brows and lashes, the intensity of his eyes. She needed to get out of the apartment. Maybe on the street she could grab a breath of fresh air. Oh, hell! He was watching her fan herself. About the author:
Hi, I grew up enjoying the novels of such queens of romantic suspense as Mary Stewart and Daphne du Maurier. I tried my hand at storytelling while teaching in an elementary school. Musa Publishing published my romance Marriage Made in Haven in 2012. Last year the Wild Rose Press released my second novel Return of the Dixie Deb. A Man to Waste Time on is available for purchase now. I hope you enjoy it. I love hearing from readers! Social medial Links: Author links: facebook.com/nina.barrett.315 E-mail: nina@ninabarrett.net Lynda is busy touring with her latest release Stormee Waters, but was gracious enough to answer a few questions for us. What do you think makes good writing? For fiction, a writer must tell the story that lingers in their mind and heart, from their perspective, with their feelings. Tell the story they would like to read. I want characters that aren't perfect so that through their struggles and change, I come to care about them and want to stay in their story, even wondering how their lives are progressing long after I've finished the book. Do you have a favorite hobby or pastime? I have always like to design and have had a love affair with fabric for a long time. So I quilted for many years then wondered into the world of designing fiber art wall-hangings. While a piece can be intricate and time consuming, I find the process quite enjoyable and a definite change from writing. What's your favorite character archetype of literature? My favorite is the male lead who has an alpha male persona, is a commander with rough edges that every female wants to smooth. He has a loving heart that he only gives away once and for keeps. oh yes, I agree with you when it comes to alpha males. Umm :) Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions and I wish you the best of luck with Stormee Waters Author Bio: Lynda is an author of contemporary romance that lingers in a reader’s mind long after they’ve closed the book. She lives in Northeast Texas with her husband of fifty years. They enjoy traveling, trying new foods, spending time with family and friends, and doing community service work together. When she feels the need to take a break from writing, she enjoys creating fabric art. She offers an open invitation to view both her writing and fabric art on her blog. Blog: http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspot.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/lyndacoker Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lyndacoker Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/lyndacoker/ Dirk Savage never fails to acquire what he wants until he encounters Stormee Waters and a backwash of trouble...
Stormee Waters knows about hard times. Needing to care for her aging grandmother and teenage brother, she moves to Houston, Texas and takes a writing job for a popular magazine. Her first assignment is to interview a successful business man for a series of articles entitled, Make My Man Texas-Sized. Her target, Dirk Savage, appears to have the right criteria. He's adventurous with the air of a conqueror. Admired by his peers and coveted by beauty queens and debutantes, he's just the type of man that Stormee needs to make her first article sizzle and sell. But can she handle the heat when she catches his attention? Dirk Savage is used to acquiring what he wants, except in the illusive quest for the one woman who can fill his heart. The shock of discovering her in the naive young woman assigned to interview him sets his jaded emotions on high alert. Can he convince her that his pursuit is genuine? Excerpt: “How old are you?” His tone possessed a clipped edge of exasperation. What does my age matter? Mortified, she fidgeted with the small purse she held in her lap. “Twe—twenty-three.” “You blush and fidget like a little girl.” To her astonishment, and with more force than necessary, he closed her door, circled the car, and slipped back behind the wheel. A few minutes later, he parked in front of the Stardust Restaurant. This time, when her door opened, he helped her out and led her toward the restaurant’s entrance, stopping just short to maneuver her into a secluded niche in the building’s exterior. With her back against the rock wall, Stormee muttered, “What are you doing?” “Time to make up for leaving me standing in your doorway.” Shock kept her immobile, while the sweetest pleasure she’d ever experienced sensitized her mouth beyond bearing. With unhurried, soft kisses, he explored the corners of her clenched lips. Mrs. Stanton’s warning echoed in her ears. “Remember to keep it professional, Stormee. He’s not the kind of man you’re used to dealing with.” She pushed away the annoying memory as he wet her bottom lip with his tongue. I chose to write about my favorite book boyfriends which reveals a little about the romance stories I love. #1 BBF: MAVERICK HART His name alone gives me the shivers. Reminds me of Maverick from Top Gun all the way. This guy is balls-to-the-wall tough, dirty-mouthed, and a supreme alpha. This novel also happens to be one of my favorite top reads. It resonated with me so much, I actually wrote the author an email. You can read more about that message at my website: www.cckoen.com. Refer to the blog page, where I post monthly book recommendations. Only my top picks make it. http://racheljrobinson.com/ #2 BBF: TACK ALLEN I have to be honest, Motorcycle Man was the first MC book I ever read, and Tack Allen was my all-time favorite BBF, until he got bumped by Maverick. I seriously had a huge crush on Tack and still do. Kristen Ashley gave him a classic MC attitude that I couldn’t help but crush on. There is something so addictive about a man who is brash, but also has a sweet intrinsic side that comes out at the most unexpected times. I loved everything about this book, and it’s not one to miss. http://www.kristenashley.net/menu/home.html #3 BBF: DEX LOCKE http://marianazapatawrites.blogspot.com/ Ugh! I hated listing Dex as #3 and not #1. I loved this guy. He owns a tattoo shop and is also in a MC. Since I have two tattoos it was automatic—love at first read. Really though, this guy is written so realistically, you will think you are the heroine in the story and taking part in each exchange. He has a total bad attitude that he wears 24/7, but it won’t turn you off, because he gets just as good as he gives. So don’t miss this book. It’s a must read! #4 BBF: KAYNE DOBRESCU http://julieannereeves.blogspot.com/ I am such a sucker for the bleeding heart kinda guy. Kayne Dobrescu is definitely that, and he also happens to be a police officer. A hot guy in a uniform is another weakness of mine. This man though, is opposite of my other top three BBFs. Kayne is suffering from a horrific loss (no spoilers here). He’s also beautiful on the inside and out, making this story a must read. #5 BBF: WADE CORDELL http://www.roxannestclaire.com/romanticsuspense/romanticsuspense.html Roxanne St. Claire hooked me on romantic suspense novels. The Bullet Catchers series was one I could NOT put down or read fast enough. She is another author I sent an email to. There aren’t many, in fact she is the only other author I have written to. Some books just hit you right in the heart, and this one did that for me. Wade Cordell is a sweet, southern, quiet guy that will steal your heart. I’d love to have a Wade in my own life. Hey! A girl can dream. Intensity by C.C. Koen INTENSITY BUY LINKS INTENSITY AMAZON LINK INTENSITY AMAZON AUTHOR CENTRAL PAGE INTENSITY BARNES & NOBLE LINK INTENSITY KOBO LINK INTENSITY SMASHWORDS LINK What would you do to improve your life? Twenty-one-year-old Serena Thomas is faced with a tough decision. Unable to get ahead of debt and loneliness since her grandmother’s death she finds a new job, placing the sheltered virgin in an underground escort business. She tells herself it’s just a temporary life choice, but destiny has a different plan. She meets a mysterious and gorgeous man, who happens to be her new boss. Will Serena fit in or will she be left all alone again? Lincoln (aka: Linc) Jefferson has an unusual life. He established The Lounge, an exclusive escort club for very personal reasons. A place where the women say who, when, and what type of sex they’re willing to have. The escorts possess all the power and the money. It’s a business Linc guards at all costs. Trying to maintain the secrecy is a constant challenge and one that’s tested when he enters into a relationship with Serena. She tempts him unlike any woman, even though he’s surrounded by beauty on a daily basis. The more time they spend together the harder it is for him to keep his secrets. Will Serena stand by his side or will she abandon him? Sparks and passion fly, taking these two on a journey neither could have expected. Excerpt I turned toward the frameless picture windows lining the entire exterior wall and was presented with a breathtaking, unobstructed view of the harbor. Smack dab in the middle, behind an antique mahogany desk, stood the tallest, most impressive man I’d ever seen. The black suit he wore matched the surroundings, professional and sleek. The top three buttons on his white shirt undone, dark sprigs of hair peeked through and begged for my attention. As I got closer, his eyes scanned me from head, to chest, to hips and up and down my long legs at least three times, resting on my ruby-red tiptoes. Ha! Two could play at that game. Using the exact pace he did, I snapped mental pictures of every God given, Mr. Universe muscle. A wavy black ponytail, pulled tight at the nape, crested his wide shoulders and dipped to mid-chest, bringing my journey to a momentary pause. A taut dress shirt molded to his pecs became an instant favorite and preference I didn’t know I had. As I gravitated lower, the desk impeded my view, coming to rest at his waist and a nondescript silver belt buckle. My eyes drifted back up, wishing I could see more, but his tailored jacket without a hint of lint on it kept him hidden. Still, from what I could take in, the man had sin engraved all over him. I stopped in front of his desk and realized my earlier assessment of him had been right. My six five in heels, shrunk to five feet the way he towered over me by several inches. “Linc?” The wispiness of my voice made me cringe. Way to go, Serena. His answer, one sharp nod. In the corners around each eye, little wrinkles appeared as he took another long journey over my body. Knees locked together, I tried hard not to fidget. “I’m Serena. Mylaynee said my interview was at twelve thirty. I’m a little early. I didn’t mean to interrupt if you were in the middle of something.” Damn, there I went, rambling. Yeah, that would have him eating out of my hands. Linc rounded the desk, coming toe to toe. "You’re a virgin." AUTHOR Bio and Links: C.C. Koen writes contemporary romance with a twist. An avid reader who enjoys mystery and suspense, her stories will never be what you expect. Determined to find adventure in her dreams and life, she enjoys skydiving, sailing and any activity that challenges her. Teacher by day, romance writer at night produce an active imagination that comes to life in her writing. Intensity is her debut novel. Author Social Links WEBSITE: www.cckoen.com BLOG: http://authorcckoen.com FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/cckoenbooks TWITTER: http://twitter.com/authorcckoen GOODREADS: www.goodreads.com/authorcckoen https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22887381-intensity The author will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during this tour and the Blurb Blitz tour.
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/nbtm-tour-intensity-by-cc-koen.html When I asked Kathy Fischer-Brown to share some of her research with us I didn’t expect such a fascinating and detailed look at the lives of these poor captives. Thank you, Kathy. Winter Fire – The Story of a Story Kathy Fischer-Brown Of the literature available in seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth century America, “captive narratives” were an extremely popular and sensational genre. Depicting the trials and tribulations of white settlers—predominantly women—taken in raids by Native Americans, they remain gripping to this day. Stories of Mary Rowlandson, Hannah Dustan, Hannah Swarton, and Mary French, to name just a few, provide entertaining and informative reads. But none held my imagination more than that of Mary Jemison, a young teenager who was captured by a French and Shawnee raiding party and adopted into the Seneca tribe in the area around what is now Syracuse, New York. Even as she mourned the loss of her family, Mary lived the rest of her life among the Haudenosaunee. By the time she had reached a ripe old age, Deh-he-wä-mis (as she was then called) had all but forgotten her native language and was venerated by her adopted people. An equally engrossing tale is told in a more recent book. John Demos’s The Unredeemed Captive (Vintage, 1995) chronicles the efforts of the Williams family of Massachusetts in the early 1700’s to regain their daughter following a raid on Deerfield. After years of searching and countless disappointments, Reverend Williams was horrified to learn that Eunice had married a Mohawk warrior and chose to remain with her captors. It was only natural that when the idea for Winter Fire caught my imagination, I returned to these accounts. As the story took shape, further research led to a campaign of 1779 during the American Revolution, which had as its target Iroquois warriors under Mohawk war chief Joseph Brandt and his Loyalist allies. (An exceptional account of this bloody chapter in American history is told in Allan Eckert’s Wilderness War.) Following a number of murderous attacks on frontier settlements and equally brutal reprisals, George Washington dispatched Generals John Sullivan and James Clinton deep into Six Nations lands to minimize the effectiveness of Brandt’s forces by burning their villages and crops. The resulting devastation led only to more retaliation. An unexpected by-product of this offensive was the recovery of a number of white captives and their return to “civilization.” Some went happily with the army, while others had to be forced from the smoldering remains of their adoptive homes. This inspired me to ask myself, "What if...?" What if a white woman in like circumstances had been taken away against her will and returned to what was left of her family? The narratives are filled with tales in which this had been the case. Unfortunately, these reunions, more often than not, were unpleasant for both the former captives and their relations. Back among their own people, many of the redeemed were scorned, shunned, and regarded with suspicion for their strange ways. After years of living among the “savages,” attempts to reintegrate into a society that was now foreign and strange ended in failure for these people trapped between two worlds. At first opportunity they ran off and attempted to rejoin their Iroquois families. Very few of these tales had a happy ending. With these accounts as its foundation, Zara Grey’s story took root in my imagination. Caught up in a war pitting neighbor against neighbor, son against father, white man against “red man,” a young heiress of Dutch descent becomes both a pawn and a pariah, with murder in the bargain. Ethan Caine, the hero of this historical romance, has as his backstory a polarizing incident based loosely on true events. In eastern Pennsylvania following The French and Indian War, during the 1763 conflict known as Pontiac’s Rebellion, wilderness settlements throughout the colonies remained vulnerable to attacks. Fueled by the lack of support they were receiving from colonial forces, a group of self-appointed vigilantes, the “Paxton Boys,” attacked and killed residents of a nearby village of peaceful Susquehannock. While the actual episode was unprovoked, the fictionalized account in Winter Fire incorporates a patchwork of similar clashes. Young Ethan is deeply traumatized by these events and the ensuing senseless slaughter. Fifteen years later, he is forced to confront his prejudices and regrets when he rescues a half-drowned white woman dressed in clothes of Seneca design from an ice covered creek. She’d been running from someone or something, and toward Iroquois lands. The resulting novel, a 1998 Golden Heart finalist, has as its core the inter-cultural conflicts of its time magnified by the perceptions, misconceptions, and fears of people in the midst of war. It’s also the story of a man and a woman whose lives have been entwined from the beginning. Winter Fire by Kathy Fischer-Brown When Ethan Caine pulled the unconscious woman from the half-frozen creek, he had no idea that his world was about to explode. Dressed in quilled doeskin of Iroquois design, she stirred up dark secrets from his past. At the same time, she was everything he desired. But she was more Indian than white, and on the run for murder. He needed to know the truth. He needed to find it within himself to trust her. Banished by the Seneca Indians who had adopted and raised her, ostracized by the whites in the settlement, Zara Grey wanted only to be accepted. “Ethancaine” treated her with kindness and concern. It was easy to trust him. But her Indian ways disturbed him, and in her heart she would always be Seneca. Excerpt Prologue October, 1779. Six Nations Territory She ran. Breathless, heart straining. Despite the stabbing pain in her side and the fire in her lungs, she forced herself on through the crackling underbrush. The cold wind whipped hair in her eyes. Briars tore her face and hands. Yet with each labored stride, the soldiers= shouting voices drew closer. She dared not look back for fear of losing ground, dared not avert her eyes from the forest path. But where was she to run? As if the question were an obstacle in her path she stumbled to a halt. There was no one to help her. The People had gone, taking with them all help, all hope. She was alone. The outcast. Nameless. Gasping, she slumped to her knees into the dew-drenched leaves. The witch Jiiwi is no more! The truth of it choked her. She set her teeth against the cry of anguish rising in her throat. She could have chosen death! Death at the hands of The People would have been swift. Nichus, her-husband-no-longer-her-husband, had assured her. But her fear of death had been stronger than her fear of the unknown. She had chosen life. And with it, banishment. She tore wind-blown hair laced with leaves and twigs from her face and glanced back over her shoulder. The soldiers were nearly upon her. Five of them. They slowed their pace. Perhaps they knew she could run no more. They approached as if puzzled, talking among themselves. ?Savages musta left her behind when they sneaked off,@ one of the men said. ?Why d=you suppose...?@ “Hotakwih!@ she said to herself, unable to hold back the tears. It is finished. Raising her eyes to the sky above the autumn colored hills, she whispered, ?Hohsah@ It has begun. She bowed her head. “Haywokahweh!@ I have gone in a circle. When the blue-coated soldiers caught up with her, she no longer had the strength or the will to resist. Two of them edged closer to her in the shadows. ?Here, we=re not going to harm you,@ one said, his voice a raspy whisper. ?Do you understand?@ She could not bring herself to look at them. Soon they would do more than talk. She knew. Soon they would see what she was. They would take her away. Take her back. Back to where the circle had begun. She shuddered. “Not so close,” the other man ordered. “Give her room. You=re scarin= her.” A twinge of unease rippled through her stomach. These were the same blue coats that had left a trail of ashes where thriving villages once had stood, who girdled the fruit trees so they would wither and die, who laid waste the fields of corn and squash and beans. She had seen them before, in her dreams. Her dreams had shown them the way. “Good God!” Another of them cried out. “She=s white! The woman=s white!” The first man knelt before her. “Do you speak English? Can you tell us your name?” She would not trouble herself to reply. “Here!” A man fumbled in his pack, producing a slice of jerky. He extended it just beyond her reach, an attempt to lure her closer, like a starving dog. But she would not oblige him. “I=ll wager you=re hungry.” She lifted her head slightly and eyed the meat with longing. Three days of subsisting on nothing but roots and groundnuts had left her light-headed and weak. But she would accept none of their food. She looked down at the leaves. “Suit yourself,” the man grumbled, and tore off a piece with his teeth. In the distance, the shouts of men rose above the morning stillness. An acrid odor wafted on the wind through the trees. Across the meadow, lush with green grasses, beyond the expanse of ripening fields and orchards, the soldiers had set fire to the village. From a place deep inside her, as if awakened by the sounds and smells, an old terror forced itself past the dust of forgotten memory. Zara! Run! Voices from the past rang out across time. Silenced for so long, they gained new strength and force on the billows of smoke darkening the sky. Mama! Her own voice. The voice of the child she had been. For as long as she could remember, her dreams had been filled with fire and smoke. And a savage host tore her from one world and thrust her into another. So it had been in the past. So it would be again. “Haywokahweh!” she said, and she closed her eyes. The circle was complete. AUTHOR Bio and Links: As a child Kathy wanted to be a writer when she grew up. She also wanted to act on the stage. After receiving an MFA in Acting from the Mason Gross School of the Arts and playing the part of starving young artist in New York, she taught theater classes at a small college in the Mid-West before returning home to the East Coast, where over the years, she and her husband raised two kids and an assortment of dogs. During stints in advertising, children’s media publishing, and education reform in the former Soviet Unions, she wrote whenever she could. Her love of early American history has its roots in family vacations up and down the East Coast visiting old forts and battlefields and places such as Williamsburg, Mystic Sea Port, and Sturbridge Village. During this time, she daydreamed in high school history classes, imagining the everyday people behind all the dates and conflicts and how they lived. Claiming her best ideas are born of dreams, Kathy has written a number of stories over the years. Her first published novel, Winter Fire, a 1998 Golden Heart finalist in historical romance, was reissued in 2010 by Books We Love, Ltd., which also released Lord Esterleigh’s Daughter, Courting the Devil, and The Partisan’s Wife. When not writing, she enjoys reading, cooking, photography, playing “ball” with the dogs, and rooting on her favorite sports teams. LINKS: Website: http://www.kfischer-brown.com Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KathyFischerBrownAuthor Twitter: http://twitter.com/KFischerBrown Amazon Author Central: http://www.amazon.com/Kathy-Fischer-Brown/e/B004BMAG7U/ Blog: http://illsay.wordpress.com/ BooksWeLove (Publisher): http://www.bookswelove.net/kathyfischerbrown.php Video Trailer http://youtu.be/7SCXxbaEUck Buy Links: Amazon US kindle: http://amzn.com/B004BA5GMM Amazon US paperback: http://amzn.com/1926965434 Amazon UK kindle: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004BA5GMM Amazon UK paperback: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1926965434 Amazon Australia kindle: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B004BA5GMM Kathy will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/10/nbtm-tour-winter-fire-by-kathy-fischer.html “I never thought it would go this far… that a man with such terrible secrets would steal my heart and make me want him so much, when his life of danger and lies should have made me want nothing more than to turn and run. I understood him, you see. I knew that beneath all of that money and power, and yes… violence, was a man in desperate need of love. So desperate that he took from me something I wasn’t ready to give: my future.” Brielle Dalton thought the few months in Vegas she needed to finish her dissertation would also be a chance to have some fun before ‘real life’ took over. But she never counted on meeting Cristos Vicario, the irresistible but troubled owner of the Adagio casino. The attraction was instant and all-consuming, but in the beginning neither knew that their lives had crossed before, and the result had been nothing short of tragedy. By the time Brielle discovers who Cristos really is, and what he has done in a reckless attempt to keep her, it’s too late. She’s already in too deep. Excerpt from In Deep I turned to Cristos and offered him a casual smile. He was watching me, his expression unreadable at the moment, which bothered me. I’m usually very good at reading people. It’s second nature to me, so much so that I often don’t even know how I do it, so I felt a little bit blind when it came to this man. And of course when people are very hard to read, they usually have something to hide. His stoic silence was making me squirm, so I made an attempt at conversation. “Thank you… for taking me to dinner. Where are we going?” His expression relaxed into a devilish smile. “My pleasure, Brielle. And it’s a surprise.” He shifted his body a little so that the length of his thigh was pressing against mine. A jolt of heat raced through me at the contact, but when I looked up again, he was gazing past me and out the window, so I couldn’t tell if he’d done it on purpose. I had the sudden, disconcerting urge to crawl into his lap and rub up against him. Just thinking about it was making my heart beat faster. “We’re almost there”, he said. “Already?” He laughed. “Vegas is a small city. Were you hoping the ride would last longer?” He pressed just a little bit closer, and I tried to scoot a bit farther away so that I didn’t suddenly lose my mind and actually crawl onto his lap. The way my body was reacting to him, it was a distinct possibility, and I needed to be careful or I was going to end up looking like either a slut or an idiot, neither of which was flattering. His hand came down gently on my thigh and my breath hitched in my throat. “Are you sure you’re not afraid of me, Cariño?” He was looking at me with those sexy eyes again, and I felt like I could fly. “No. I’m not afraid of you,” I said with a little laugh. “Good. If it’s not fear I’m sensing from you, then it must be desire.” His voice was deep and just a little husky. He was so near, so real, so hedonistically male. I could only stare at him for a long moment, during which Dante opened the partition to announce our arrival, breaking the spell I had apparently fallen under. Be careful, Brie, or you’ll end up hitching a ride home with his personal assistant later. The car pulled to a stop at the curb, and Dante came around to open the door for us. Criss got out and then reached for my hand. I slipped mine into his and that same thrill went through me at the contact. His grip tightened. I stepped out onto the curb, and was shocked to see several people with cameras raised in our direction. Dante stepped protectively between us and the crowd, and Criss took my arm. “Ignore them, Brie. Just keep walking.” I did, and within moments we were inside a posh looking restaurant, and being shown to our table as Dante disappeared toward the car. Once we were comfortably seated at an intimate corner table, I leaned closer. “Does that happen all the time? The photographers?” He shrugged as he opened the wine list and perused the pages. “Sometimes. Other times I manage not to be noticed. It just goes with the territory.” “Oh…” His eyes flicked up to mine. “Don’t worry, Dante will keep them from bothering us during dinner.” He signaled the waiter, who hurried over to our table. “A bottle of your best red, please. And ask the chef to prepare something special for us tonight.” The waiter’s eyes practically sparkled as he gave a little bow and headed for the kitchen. No doubt he was anticipating a rather large tip. Criss turned his full attention to me, leaning his elbows on the table and casually running one finger over his full bottom lip. “Alexis tells me you’re a student in anthropology.” His eyes, god… they burned right through me. I had to clear my throat a little. “Yes, I’m just finishing up my Ph.D., which of course is why I’m here in Vegas.” “Why anthropology? It’s kind of unusual, isn’t it?” I smiled, my love for the subject undoubtedly shining through. “It just comes naturally to me, I suppose. I’ve always loved to study people, figure them out, their motives and interactions. I sort of have a knack for understanding all that on a really basic level that most people never see. It’s fascinating to me, always has been.” He leaned closer and gave me a dark smile, his lips curving up dangerously. “And are you going to figure me out, Brielle?” “I don’t know”, I said quite honestly. It was already obvious to me that the man ran pretty deep, and I had a very hard time reading him. The one thing I did know for sure is that if I let him have the upper hand with me, this spark we seemed to have would go nowhere. If I fell into the mold he made for me, I was certain he would use me up and then walk away. He would probably do that anyway. That must be the way he had always managed to avoid relationships, because women tried so hard to become what he wanted them to be. AUTHOR Bio and Links: Hello everyone! Let me introduce myself. Though I used to work in Boston in the biotech industry, I’m now loving life on a small farm in New England where my husband and I are raising our three children and lots of animals. Between taking care of chickens and goats and shuttling the kids to dance class and piano lessons, I find the time to pursue my own interest: writing. I relish creating stories and bringing my characters to life on the written page, and each book is a labor of love. I’m passionate about the romance genre because of the emotional journey a well-written novel can take the reader on, and my goal with each of my books is to do the same for my readers. I would love to hear from you at kellamckinnon.com, or kellamckinnon@gmail.com. www.amazon.com/author/kellamckinnon https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5375720.Kella_McKinnon www.kellamckinnon.com Feel free to follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:
http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/vbt-in-deep-and-in-deeper-by-kella.html One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. For a woman to become a nun in the medieval world her family had to pay a grant or dowry to the nunnery. This meant that convents were comprised almost entirely of women from the upper class, and although some of these religious houses were poor and spiritual, others were a little more materialistic. The convents were a dumping ground for unwanted and illegitimate daughters, women with disabilities, women prisoners – Christina Bruce sister to Robert I of Scotland was imprisoned in a convent by Edward I. But they were also a refuge for widows and maybe the only opportunity for a woman seeking intellectual pursuits. Given the affluence of the inhabitants it should come as no surprise that nunneries employed servants to do the manual labor. St. Mary’s in Winchester had twenty-six nuns who were served by nine women servants, five male chaplains, and twenty male servants. To their credit they educated twenty-six children and supported thirteen poor sisters. It sounds like a pleasant, easy life, but so much depended on the prioress. In 1442 at a convent in Catesby a prioress named Margaret Wavere had an affair with a priest named William Taylour. When word of her affair got out Margaret became violent. She tore off the veils of her charges and dragged them about by their hair. Word of her cruelty leaked out when six nuns ran away. At a bishop’s inquiry, she beat any nun who gave testimony against her, and bribed the bishop’s clerk to discover what had been said and by whom. In most convents life was not all doom and gloom. On feasts like Christmas and the May games minstrels, harpers, and dancers performed at the nunneries. Strictly speaking the church forbade this, but it was an age when many bishops had their own personal entertainers, not to mention mistresses and families, so the rule was largely overlooked. And there was more than one story of a nun running away with a minstrel, and taking him as her lover. Given the fact the most of the nuns were sent to the nunneries without any real regard to their suitability for convent life it’s surprising that more of them didn’t take lovers. In 1351 the commissioner for the Bishop of Bath and Wells was so shocked by the behavior of the nuns of Cannington in Somerset he accused the convent of being more like a brothel than a priory. I wonder what it would have been like for a woman who longed for a husband and children to be forced into an institution where she was forbidden to have them. This would have been made harder by the fact that nuns didn’t live in isolation from the world as they were supposed to. Everyday they were confronted with temptation, a temptation made more alluring by the fact it was forbidden. Nuns who took a lover and then repented were given penance and forgiven. Nuns who left their convent to marry and have children were excommunicated and their marriage cursed by the church. In a medieval world where the church controlled every aspect of daily life, and eternal torment and hell were real fears, many nuns repented and returned to holy orders. But there were exceptions; one of them is the sad story of Agnes de Flixthorpe who ran away from St Michael’s, Stamford, in 1309. Bishop Dalderby of Lincoln seems to have taken a particular interest in her; he threatened anyone who helped her with excommunication. He then proceeded to hunt her down. A year later she was captured in Nottingham. She was dragged back to St. Michaels where she was imprisoned with her legs shackled until she agreed to wear her habit and resume her life as a nun. She refused. Dalderby sent her to a nunnery in Devonshire and had her imprisoned in solitary confinement, hoping the isolation would break her spirit. It did. She agreed to repent and was returned to Stamford in 1314. By 1316 she had run away again. The prioress seems to have tried to keep Agnes’ escape a secret. But in a letter, penned in 1318, Dalderby threatened the prioress with excommunication if she didn’t capture poor Agnes. In 1319 Dalderby died and Agnes disappears from the historical record. We don’t know if she was forced to return or left in peace. Personally I like to believe that once the bishop died the church forgot her, and that she married and had children. Of course at the end of the day medieval nuns were just like everyone else. They could be ambitious, caring, spiritual, violent, spoiled, lusty and kind. But in a world where most women had very little input concerning their life choices I have to feel sorry for them. Amazon US http://ow.ly/FT0wg Amazon UK http://ow.ly/FT0CD Amazon AU http://ow.ly/FT0GP The Wild Rose Press http://ow.ly/FT0oK Kobo http://ow.ly/FT0K8 All Romance eBooks http://ow.ly/FT0O6 Book Strand http://ow.ly/FT0Ra B&N http://ow.ly/Ge4fe REVIEW QUOTE: …fans of Medieval England, romance novels, and historical fiction, [you] would [probably] enjoy this well-written book… Maria, The BookHostage Forced to marry Lord Aymon to ensure her nephews survival, English Lady Laila vows undying hatred for the Norman she holds responsible for so many deaths. Discovering Aymon has committed an act of treason gives her the chance to seek vengeance he deserves. But will Laila really let Aymon die once she learns the truth? A hardened Norman warrior, Lord Aymon has lived through atrocities no man ever should. With the invasion of England over, all he wants is a quiet life and a wife who will give him heirs and obey his every command. Instead, he finds himself wed to feisty and outspoken Laila. But when she learns the truth of his treasonous act, can Aymon count on her to keep his secret? Excerpt Aymon caught a flicker of movement from a window on the second story. “I think we’re about to meet the welcome party.” An arrow zoomed toward him and landed on the pommel of his saddle. A half an inch closer and he would no longer be able to sire children. As if in demonstration of his ability with the bow and arrow, the shooter fired again. This time directed toward Hugh. The second arrow too came within a half an inch of his friend’s manhood. “You missed!” Aymon called toward the shooter. He questioned his stupidity for mocking someone with such a good aim. “You want me to show you how good an aim I really am?” a woman’s voice echoed out across the yard. “Bloody hell,” Hugh half cursed, half laughed. “Where does a woman learn to shoot like that?” Aymon was shocked and admittedly a little impressed a woman had such remarkable shooting skills. He could use such a sharp shooter on his side in battle. After all, it was better to have someone so skilled firing for you than at you. Aymon raised his black leather gloved hand in surrender. “No. I’m firmly attached to my balls, thank you very much.” “Who are you?” the shooter demanded. “And what do you want? There is nothing of value here for you to steal. Be on your way, man, and leave me in peace.” “Some would say a female is of value,” Aymon drawled sardonically. A second arrow lodged firmly on the pommel between his legs. “I do not give third chances. I’ll give you to the count of three to leave. Or else you will find an arrow straight through your heart.” Aymon’s warhorse whinnied, and he fought to control the beast whose temperament was as black as his coat. “Put down your weapon!” “One!” “We mean you no harm!” “Two!” “I am Lord Aymon, and this is Lord Hugh. I’ve come to claim what is rightfully mine.” Silence. The two men looked at one another unsure what to do. “Should we storm the building and lay claim to what is yours?” Aymon shook his head. He dismounted but never took his eyes from the door to the manor. “She will soon make her appearance.” Hugh, too, dismounted. “How can you be so sure?” Aymon looked at his friend. “We do not have arrows through our hearts.” AUTHOR BIO: Louise grew up in Australia before moving to England, where for sixteen years she soaked up the vibrancy of London and the medieval history of England. She has since returned to Australia. In 2013 Louise won first prize in the Crested Butte Sandy Writing Contest – Historical Romance Category –for her story, The Promise, which has since been retitled as, Of Love & Vengeance. When not writing, she can be found crawling under barbed wire and hoisting herself over twelve foot walls! AUTHOR LINKS: EMAIL: louise_lyndon@yahoo.com WEB: www.LouiseLyndon.com BLOG: www.LouiseLyndon.com/blog FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/pages/Louise-Lyndon/1472910852955051 TWITTER: https://twitter.com/LouiseLyndon1 PINTEREST: llyndon3513 GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/LouiseLyndon Louise is giving away a free ebook copy of her novel via rafflecopter. The draw is open until the end of March. For more chances to enter visit all the stops on her tour. You can find the dates and websites on Louise's blog
Enter the Stormee Waters Launch Giveaway Link: http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspot.com/p/stormee-waters-launch-giveaway.html About Lynda Lynda is an author of contemporary romance that lingers in a reader’s mind long after they’ve closed the book. She lives in Northeast Texas with her husband of fifty years. They enjoy traveling, trying new foods, spending time with family and friends, and doing community service work together. When she feels the need to take a break from writing, she enjoys creating fabric art. She offers an open invitation to view both her writing and fabric art on her blog. Blog: http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspot.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/lyndacoker Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lyndacoker Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/lyndacoker/ Dirk Savage never fails to acquire what he wants until he encounters Stormee Waters and a backwash of trouble...
Stormee Waters knows about hard times. Needing to care for her aging grandmother and teenage brother, she moves to Houston, Texas and takes a writing job for a popular magazine. Her first assignment is to interview a successful business man for a series of articles entitled, Make My Man Texas-Sized. Her target, Dirk Savage, appears to have the right criteria. He's adventurous with the air of a conqueror. Admired by his peers and coveted by beauty queens and debutantes, he's just the type of man that Stormee needs to make her first article sizzle and sell. But can she handle the heat when she catches his attention? Dirk Savage is used to acquiring what he wants, except in the illusive quest for the one woman who can fill his heart. The shock of discovering her in the naive young woman assigned to interview him sets his jaded emotions on high alert. Can he convince her that his pursuit is genuine? Excerpt She came back to reality and placed the box on the foyer table, picked up her purse, and stepped through the door. The evening light cast a deep shadow across the man at her side, giving the illusion that he became one with the darkness, and something more she couldn’t define. When he escorted her to a sleek, black sports car of indefinable origin, something more took on solid proportions in her imagination. Every tingling cell in her body warned her against the power of his striking personality. That feeling barely registered before another followed. Dirk Savage didn’t play by anyone’s rules but his own. She nibbled her lower lip and stole a glance at him as he helped her to fasten the seat belt. “Don’t look so dismayed. I’m not going to ravish you, at least, not before we’ve had our dinner.” Still leaning over her, with nothing but a thought between their lips, his low chuckle reached to the very bottom of her toes. Embarrassed by his scrutiny, she turned her head. Fifteen minutes passed. He’d made no small talk, and she welcomed the silence. They’d cleared the congested part of town and cruised through an exclusive residential area. Expensive homes perched along the river’s edge. |
|