Thursday, March 26, 2015

Gideon by Cherry Adair Excerpt & Giveaway


BLURB:
T-FLAC is back in an exciting action-adventure romance filled with danger, subterfuge and steamy, red-hot attraction.

NO MEMORY OF HIS PAST

Powerful cartel leader Sin Diaz lives a dangerous life filled with secrets and lies, and surrounded by people who claim to have known him all his life. Yet flashes of another life, totally unrelated to the jungles of Cosio, hang tantalizingly on the edges of his memory. He'll trust no one until he recalls his true past.

NO DREAMS OF A FUTURE

T-FLAC operative Riva Rimaldi's mission is simple. Go undercover, learn terrorist Escobar Maza's agenda, then kill him. But when the helicopter she's on crashes deep in the jungle of the small, volatile country of Cosio, she finds herself in the wrong hands. Is the sexy as hell leader of the ANSL, Sin Diaz, the enemy of her enemy, worse than Maza himself? Or is he someone entirely different than his reputation – and will he become her lover?

TOGETHER THEY HOLD THE KEY

Sin and Riva must work together to stop a madman who will go to any lengths to attain his terrifying goal. But can they unravel the truth in time? The timer is ticking. 

What they don’t know could get them killed.

EXCERPT:
Her visions were never wrong. They always came true. Could the circumstances leading up to them be changed, and would that change negate the outcome? Possibly. Problem was, she didn't have visions for herself. This vision was Sin's future.

It told her no matter how much she resisted, how much she fought him, they were going to have sex. Not only were they going to connect, she was damn well going to enjoy it. The future image was so powerful she almost reached an orgasm, as her vision of the future merged with what was happening in the now.

Her fists unfurled. Her fingers gripped the soft, damp hair on his hot, naked chest as his fingers dug into the balls of her shoulders. No room to move, no way other than to stand on her toes to better reach his mouth. Eyes squeezed tight, Riva lived a duel sensation as he kissed her in the now, and her mind showed her their future in sensual Technicolor.

The morning sunlight flooding the small hut faded. Cave-like darkness surrounded them, and there was nothing but the feel of him surrounding her. No, damn it. That was the vision. It didn't have to happen. She, like the prisoners, could zig instead of zag. She'd make different choices. Make damn sure that never happened.

In the now, he was only kissing her. His hands were on her shoulders, holding her in place.

It was just a kiss.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:
New York Times/USAToday Bestselling author Cherry Adair’s innovative action-adventure novels have appeared on numerous bestsellers lists, won dozens of awards and garnered praise from reviewers and fans alike. With the creation of her kick butt counterterrorist group, T-FLAC, years before action adventure romances were popular, Cherry has carved a niche for herself with her sexy, sassy, fast-paced, action adventure novels. She hates first drafts, has a passion for mentoring unpublished writers, and is hard at work on a new T-FLAC trilogy. Cherry loves to hear from readers.



GIVEAWAY:
$25 Amazon/BN GC
The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/02/book-blast-gideon-by-cherry-adair.html
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

A Dark Tyranny by C. M. Pendleton Excerpt & Giveaway


BLURB:
A Dark Tyranny chronicles the onset of the savage invasion of Altaris.  Wolven beasts and gorgons ravage the four realms of man.  Rumors of an ancient and greater evil lay in their wake.  The rule of kings is at an end.  The hierarchy of class and heritage are no more, as families are torn apart and lives are forever changed.  A small few find their fates intertwined, as they fight for survival and for those they love.

An exiled commander is thrust back into a world he longed to forget.

A lone Nighteye finds his curse lifted and his true image restored.

A young noblewoman struggles to escape a gorgon caravan.

A former slave befriends an ancient and majestic creature.

The afflicted brother of a traitorous king discovers a secret that could cost him his life.

A Dark Tyranny is a thrilling epic that brings readers into a vivid world full of magic, adventure, and treachery.  Discover the world of Ehl├╝r and experience the beginning of a gripping saga.

EXCERPT:
Mirkus sat up in a start.  Something wasn’t right.  He could smell it.  There was a thickness to the air.  Those last hours of darkness seemed to harbor a dread.  There was a sense of fear that crept up his neck causing a cloud of anxiety to grip him like an iron vise. 

I must do something.  What?  Something’s wrong. 

Thoughts poured through his head.  The ground began to tremble.  He heard the mallop tree cry out like a great ship turning hard at sea.  Wood twisted slightly and then settled back in place.  The ground moved and swelled.  Dust fell to the floor; it filled the air.  The ground continued to move.  It was a slow stirring, like the earth itself was waking from a deep slumber.  A large echoing grind pulled through the bowels of the dirt below.  Then … it stopped.  There was silence.

Mirkus left his tree.  The normal chill was gone.  There was a musky stench of decay rising from the ground.  It was nauseating.  Worms and other creatures scurried from the safety of the soil.  They toiled blindly on the loose dirt.  Mirkus could hear stirring in the village. 

I’m not the only one that heard this. 

A howl pierced the night.  It was neither dog nor wolf.  It had the sound of human agony layered with a bestial moan.  The ground moved once again.  Mirkus shifted to keep his balance.  There were screams. 

AUTHOR Bio and Links:
C. M. Pendleton is the author of the epic fantasy series Of Darkness & the Light.  He holds a bachelor’s degree in science and attended Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary.  He lives in North Carolina with his wife and four children.

BUY:

WEBSITE:

SOCIAL MEDIA


GIVEAWAY:
C.M. Pendleton will be awarding $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn host.
The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2015/02/blurb-blitz-dark-tyranny-by-cm-pendleton.html 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spring Into Books Event

SpringintoBooksBanner
Welcome to Literary Addicts' Spring into Books Event. It takes place March 25 - April 27!
Pick up a great read, enter to win prizes, and follow along on Literary Addicts for Fun Interviews, Guest Posts, and Exclusive Excerpts!
Click over to buy these fantastic reads!
15_ebookoutsystemArmoredheartsRomancingRedemptionFrontNameTheOnlyOneEbookskycity_promonotwithoutyou 3310320DeathDealer-200x300Ceaseless
  SpringgiveawayPrizes - Kandle Candle from author Tawdra Kandle Signed Outsystem and A Path in the Darkness paperbacks and swag from author MD Cooper Survivor Swag pack from author Bonnie R Paulson Signed 15 Minutes paperback and Swag from author Jill Cooper $15 Amazon Gift Card from Literary Addicts Secret Harbor paperback ARC from Taking Time for Mommy Open to US residents 18 +. Ends 4/27/15 Fill out the form to enter a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Days of Future Past by Sally Smith O'Rourke Excerpt & Giveaway

BLURB:
Things are not always what they seem.

Fate sometimes conspires to right a decades-old wrong. The 6.8 earthquake that strikes Southern California one warm March night is the fateful event that brings family therapist Ann Hart and trauma specialist Ted McConaughy back together.

Twenty years after his betrayal caused the cancellation of their wedding, Ted finds himself in need of Ann’s help. The intense, recurring dreams that are invading his sleep are thought to be memories of past lives. And hypnotherapy, one of Ann’s specialties, may be the cure he seeks.

Their journey defies time and reason, forcing them to re-evaluate their capacity for love and forgiveness.


EXCERPT:
Chapter Eight
Thursday, March 13

The courtyard of Toni’s building was unnervingly quiet. The terrarium-like space with a waterfall-fed pond and stream stood silent and dry. The earthquake must have damaged the water system in the building. It made him wonder if Toni would even be in her office. There was no one around, but the faint sound of clanging metal hammering metal indicated that workers were there.

The door to Toni’s office stood partially open. If she wasn’t there would her door be open? Perhaps her last patient left and the next had not yet arrived. His footsteps seemed to echo in the stillness of the landscaped atrium. He stood at the open door gathering his courage, finally pushing it open the rest of the way.

The office reminded him of a study or library in an English manor house. The centerpiece of the room was a large desk, mahogany perhaps. A dusty rose leather chair sat behind it. At one end of the large room was a conversation area. There was a small oval table separating a loveseat and two comfortable looking chairs. Knowing Toni, he suspected several of the pieces were antique.

There was no trite theme like ‘English Country Cottage’ and no obvious color scheme either. It wasn’t the usual therapist’s office with blue or yellow walls with decorations that theoretically created a calming atmosphere. Like Toni, this room was warm and inviting. It was a gift she had, making people comfortable.

He stepped into the office. At the other end of the room was a spiral staircase of highly polished wood which led to a loft surrounded by railings matching the staircase. He assumed the earthquake had caused the empty shelves that lined the balcony.

He strained to see if she was upstairs and took a few steps backwards until he bumped into one of the chairs in the conversation area. There she was, sitting on the floor stacking books after wiping them off with a cloth. The sun streamed through the skylight highlighting glints of copper in her hair. She was wearing it up, accentuating the curve of her neck. He remembered how the chestnut tresses looked when they tumbled in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back. He sighed.

He hadn’t really seen her yesterday, so he didn’t realize how lovely she still was … yesterday! That was why he was here, to apologize for whatever it was he’d done. He sat on the arm of the closest chair and cleared his throat.

Ann glanced over her shoulder assuming it was one of the workmen who had been coming in and out since she arrived. She couldn’t have been more surprised. She got up and went to the railing.

“How did you find me?”

He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “My powers of deduction are quite remarkable these days … you’re listed in information.”

“Oh.” Her stomach was suddenly tied in knots.

“When did you change your name?”

“I got married, if it’s any of your business.”

“I meant your first name.”

“Ann is more professional than Toni.”

“Toni suits you.”

“It suited the child I was. What do you want?”

“I want to apologize.”

“For what?”

“Yesterday.”

Eager for him to leave, she rushed to say, “Apology accepted.” She hesitated a fraction of a moment. “You can go now,” she said and started to turn away.

“I’d like to talk.”

“About what?”

“You could tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no desire to have a conversation with you about anything, certainly not about my life.” She had the souvenir box from Big Bear in her hand, and she almost threw it at him, but controlled herself. “Look, I accepted the apology for your bizarre behavior yesterday, so why are you still here?”

Ted slipped off the arm of the chair into the seat. “Why are you so angry?”

She glared at him from her perch in the loft and could see in his eyes that he really didn’t know why. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, turning her back to the room. Why was she still angry after all these years? Uncle Jamie had tried many times to get her to purge the anger, but even through her happy years with Alex she held on to it. If she had a patient doing this, she’d be counseling to let it go. So why couldn’t she?

Her thoughts thus engaged and her back to the room she didn’t see Ted move from the conversation area to the foot of the stairs. She turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

“Miss?”

Ann rubbed her eyes dry before turning. “What?”

Speaking with a soft Scottish brogue Ted said, “I would know your name.”

She stepped to the head of the stairs. “What?”

“Your name Miss, what is your name?”

Now, what was happening? Ted was standing there looking up at her, but it wasn’t Ted. What did that even mean? Assuming it would be like yesterday, she braced herself for another explosive confrontation. She looked into his eyes; it definitely wasn’t Ted looking back. What was going on?  Whatever it was, she was concerned that he might become as volatile as he had been the day before so thought it best to play along until she could figure out what he was doing.

Slowly she said, “Ann Hart, my name is Ann Hart.”

He made a deep bow. “Andrew Mcnaughton, at your service, Miss Hart.” His mouth turned into a lopsided grin. “It is Miss, is it not?”

Baffled, but trying to elicit information, she sidestepped his question and asked one of her own. “How do you come to be here Mr. Mcnaughton?”

Continuing in the Scottish brogue he hesitantly answered, “The same way you did, Miss Hart. I boarded at Glasgow.”

“Scotland?”

He chuckled. Obviously it was Scotland for where else would they have been? “Yes. We left Glasgow under full sail at eventide yesterday, and with God’s speed shall arrive in Antigua three weeks hence.” He looked up at her rather quizzically and asked, “Are you in need of the ship’s physician, Miss Hart?”

Unsure what to say about any of it she asked, “Why do you ask?”

“As you are aboard a ship but have no memory of it, I thought perhaps you were in need of medical assistance.”

Still thinking that playing along would answer some questions she responded, “I am quite well, thank you, however, as you suggest I do seem to have lost some time. Can you tell me the date?”

“It is, as of the midnight hour, the tenth of May in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and five.”

A loud rap on the open door made both Ann and Ted turn. A man in gray work clothes looked up at her. “Saw your door standing open, Doc, wanted to check that nothing was amiss.” He looked through squinty eyes at Ted. “Are you all right?”

Ann looked down at Ted, who looked up at her. He was back. He was Ted again. She turned to the workman. “I’m fine. Thanks, Sam.”

Glaring at Ted, he said, “Okay, just makin’ sure.” He left, looking over his shoulder as he went.

Once the workman was gone, she asked, “What’s going on with you?”

Trying to recovery gracefully, from what he wasn’t sure, he answered her question with, “What do you mean?” He glanced around. Before Ann could answer him he said, “How did I get over here?”

“You walked.”

“I guess I mean, why am I over here?”

“Well, you should say what you mean, and mean what you say.”

“Hmmm, I believe we’ve had that conversation before.” She couldn’t help but smile, remembering their first meeting.

She was about to ask him about his odd behavior again, when he cleared his throat and pulled the rose out of the pocket of his jacket. He took a few more steps up the stairs, and then held it out to her. “I brought this as a bit of a peace offering. It reminded me of you.”

His sporadic and peculiar behavior was pushed to a back burner, and curiosity now replaced her anger. Hesitantly she said, “It’s beautiful.” It was almost a question. Taking a few steps down, she accepted the proffered bloom, “I’ve never seen a rose this color. Where did you get it?”

“The Huntington Library.”

“I didn’t know the Huntington sold individual blossoms like this.”

Quietly and with downcast eyes he admitted, “I didn’t buy it, exactly.”

“Exactly?” Realization struck, and her eyes popped wide open. “You picked it!?! You stole it from the rose garden?”

He looked, for all the world, like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Then she saw a smile come into his eyes that spoke of satisfaction. She couldn’t help herself; she laughed.

“I’ve never been given a pilfered rose before.” She smiled.

It was nice that she wasn’t angry about it. “I couldn’t resist it.”

“I could probably have your library membership revoked and have you banned permanently from even being allowed in.”

“But you wouldn’t, would you?”

Unable to deny her amusement, Ann conceded that she would not. The ‘girl on the swing’ clock chimed the half hour. Ted glanced at his watch.

“I need to go,” he said as he took the few steps still separating them. “It was wonderful seeing you again.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek then rushed down the stairs. At the door he turned back, “I’ll call you,” he said and left.

Ann’s mind was in complete turmoil. But when she calmed down and thought about it for a second, she found that she really enjoyed the exchange. She sat on the step in the middle of the staircase, and inhaled the fragrance of the rose. A pilfered flower. She shook her head, making no effort to stop the grin from spreading across her face. She was amazed at how comfortable it was being with him, but even more amazed that she wanted to hear from him.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:
“Where shall I begin? Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?” (J.A. June 15, 1808)

That I reside in the Victorian village of Monrovia, California; a mere two miles from my place of employment. A local hospital where I spend most daylight hours in the operating room as a scrub nurse.

That I am a native Californian, having been born in Glendale, and spent most of my life here with a relatively short span of years in Reno, Nevada where I attended school. Returning after graduation I have remained in sunny SoCal.

That I was widowed some time ago. That I have very domestic hobbies like sewing, cooking, baking, candy making and cake decorating. Oh, yes I write, too. Mike, my late husband and teacher, taught me that writing has to be treated like a job so every day no matter how tired I am I edit, research one or more projects and write.

That I have finished the sequel to The Man Who Loves Jane Austen with Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen; have started a story of reincarnation that takes place in Pasadena, CA and am making notes for a ghost story set in San Francisco. Three stories running around in my head and often colliding but I untangle the debris and continue on.

There you have a few of my nothings.










  
GIVEAWAY:
Sally will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.
The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

The Christmas Dragon & Strings by Ruthanne Reid Creating Characters & Giveaway

BLURB:
*The Christmas Dragon*

All Katie Lin wants is to get away from her family: from the magic, from the mayhem, and from the never-ending war.

Unfortunately, someone has other ideas, and sends her a box. A box that jumps.

The tiny fire hazard inside may just force her back to Wales - and right into the path of a dragon war, the Crow King, and at least one reluctant elf prince. Sometimes, running away just doesn't work as planned.






*Strings*

Need help? You probably shouldn't ask Grey.

A runaway Unseelie prince, Grey feeds on love -  a commodity he conjures via music and magic in late-night Manhattan. It's a sweet gig, if lonely, and Grey is almost sure the dire warnings he was given about New York in December won't come true.

Then a monster from his childhood attacks in the middle of the night, and everything changes. 

He survived, but he's marked, and more monsters are coming for him and everyone who survived. Grey has no plans to be a hero but fate doesn't care what he wants. Sometimes, no matter what you do, you aren't the one pulling the strings.

Creating Characters:
Most of my characters appear without permission in my head, often when I’m in the middle of doing something else. My favorites, however, are all inspired by music. And that part is really funny:  the lyrics almost never have anything to do with it. It’s the sound of the music, the feel of it, and the atmosphere it creates. One of my most recent short stories follows a sentient Dream without a name, and he came from the song Lead Me Home, by Jamie Commons.
Once the characters are born, however, it’s time to get to work. I have a basic set of questions to ask them.
  1. What do they look like? This matters because it determines how other people respond to them, even if they themselves are not consciously aware of it. Of course, this can be tricky; characters don’t always know what they honestly look like, so they only give me how they THINK they appear.
  2. What People are they from? In my universe, there are Seven Peoples of the earth, into which categories fall every single beast and magic-using creature in existence. This detail determines background, family, politics, religion, even the kind of magic used (if they have any). To apply it prosaically, if a character is human, I need to know where they live and how they make a living.
  3. How are they connected to the rest of the universe? A simpler way to ask this might be, why do they matter? This doesn’t mean that each character has to have an impact on the entire world. It means that their story has to do something. It needs to evoke a specific emotion, lend to world-building, explain an activity or background-fact that touches on other characters and stories.
Usually, if I can answer these three questions, I already have a story for them. Sometimes the answers come slowly; I don’t need to have them all at once. Characters often reveal personal details in the course of the story.
I confess I love every single one of my characters, even the ones I want to hit. The adage is true: everybody thinks they’re right. This means even the most heinous characters believe what they’re doing is justified. Knowing that means I can get into everybody’s head and see things from their points of view – their fears, their passions, their needs. I really believe if you can’t love your character, then you don’t really know them the way they know themselves.

EXCERPT:
The Christmas Dragon

The box jumped.

Boxes are not supposed to jump. It’s a law somewhere, I think. Maybe Guyana. Apparently not in New Hampshire, because the box kept jumping.

I sat in my idling car, puffs of exhaust rising in my rear-view mirror, and stared at the uncoordinated box-dance. It was wrapped in the loveliest paper, too, which was a shame, because bouncing on my boot-scraper had roughened all the corners and torn one edge. The bow was big and purple and covered in small green somethings. I wasn’t close enough to make them out.

I didn’t want to be close enough to make them out.

If I didn’t do something soon, the neighbors would notice. The box probably hadn’t been jumping all morning, or there’d be a crowd. Or maybe it was already on YouTube. I didn’t know.

So much for a safe, boring life among the Ever-Dying. New Hampshire, you have failed me.

I turned off the car. Time to go see what invaded my (mostly) magic-free space.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Indie author Ruthanne Reid writes about elves, aliens, vampires, and space-travel with equal abandon. She is the author of the series Among the Mythos, and believes good stories should be shared. Subscribe to her free email newsletter for free books and more at http://amongthemythos.com. You can connect with her on Twitter (http://twitter.com/ruthannereid), Facebook (http://facebook.com/mythos), or Tumblr (http://ruthannereid.tumblr.com), where she looks at too many kittens and Avengers blogs.

Ruthanne’s love of magic, urban environments, and deep space birthed a strange world with undercurrents of faith, magic, villainy, and heroism (along with swords and lasers, on occasion). Among the Mythos showcases aliens with all-too-human feelings, entire societies on the decline due to greed and fear, protagonists who might actually be the bad guys (or vice-versa), and endings every bit as messy as the world that creates them.

Ruthanne knows from experience that endings are messy. No matter how exotic the setting, how many limbs the characters have or what (if any) genders, the problems and questions addressed by a good story are very real, and that’s why they have power. If she has a theme, it is this: keep fighting, and keep pushing toward hope, because the struggle is worth the finish-line.

Links


Buy Links for The Christmas Dragon:
















Buy Links for Strings:
















GIVEAWAY:
Ruthanne will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.
The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 
a Rafflecopter giveaway