Posts Tagged ‘excerpt’

 

From the author of the Award-winning Sgt. Windflower Mysteries including Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries Book 1, comes another welcome addition to the Sgt. Windflower family of books…

By Mike Martin

 

 

Book Blurb

 

From the author of the Award-winning Sgt. Windflower Mysteries including Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries Book 1, comes another welcome addition to the Sgt. Windflower family of books.

 

Come sit by the fire of the woodstove
in the kitchen and listen to stories of Christmas long ago in Grand Bank
and Ramea and tales of great adventure and Christmas magic in St.
John’s in the 1960s and onward. Have Christmas dinner with Sgt.
Windflower and Sheila and their two little girls. Then wait and see if
any special visitors show up to entertain them.

 

Sing along with the choir or have a
drink with old friends to celebrate Tibb’s Eve. Follow along as Eddie
Tizzard has a special mission in the middle of a snowstorm and Herb
Stoodley becomes an unlikely Christmas hero.

 

Christmas in Newfoundland is always a
time for good food, good friends, and good cheer. And there’s always
another chair at the table.

 

Release Date: September 26, 2022

 

Publisher: Ottawa Press and Publishing

 

Soft Cover: 978-1990896033; 141 pages; $16.95; eBook $4.99

 

Amazon: https://amzon.to/3fSJoL

 

Book Excerpt

  

 


Christmas Memories

It was their very first Christmas together and while it was so exciting to be in love and together during this magical season, it was also a little bit awkward as they tried to develop their own holiday traditions.

Their memories and celebrations of Christmas had been very different growing up. Windflower’s holidays in Pink Lake, his northern Alberta birthplace had been full of love but also tinged with sadness and a healthy dash of chaos. His parents had given him everything they had, which meant he got all the most favourite toys that they could order from the Sears catalogue.

His parents were no longer with him and that made him sad sometimes this time of year. He missed his mother especially. She had been so kind to him and everyone around him. He missed his dad, too, but not in the same way. His dad had worked as a logger most of his life and that meant he was away a lot, clearing brush and hauling raw lumber down to Edmonton.

Christmas Eve was his favourite time when he was little. Maybe the same even today. He loved the feeling of expectation. That something really good was going to happen. He always got new pajamas and slippers on the night before Christmas and there was a special meal of venison stew and bannock with dark fruitcake for dessert. Santa didn’t play a big role in a Pink Lake Christmas, everyone knew their parents were bringing the gifts. But that did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm. Certainly not Windflower’s.

He liked Christmas Eve, too, because that was the one night before the parties began. Before the drinking began. Everything really was calm and bright and full of hope. The next day some of his relatives would arrive with their Christmas stash and over the following days his father’s friends would also pop by. It was great fun at the beginning but as the night and the drinks wore on, it became louder and a little frightening for a little boy. Sometimes his mother would take him to be with Auntie Marie and Uncle Frank. He liked that and loved his aunt who would make him special treats and tell him stories of the old days and their Christmas around a large community fire.

Sometimes his father would go away with his friends and he and his mom would be left waiting for his return. It could be later that evening or a few days but eventually he would come home, most often drunk, and spend the next day recovering. Windflower knew to be very quiet around those times. His mother had warned him not to wake the sleeping bear.

Those were all but passing memories for Windflower now and he was looking forward to spending time and celebrating Christmas with Sheila, the light and love of his life.

Sheila loved, loved, loved Christmas. Everything about Christmas. She had taken out all the old ornaments weeks before Christmas so she could look at them and pressured Windflower to go out early in December to get their tree. The first Sunday in the month they drove to the woods on the outskirts of town and walked in to get their tree. They didn’t have far to go. About five minutes in, Sheila found the tall balsam fir she was looking for.

“Perfect,” she announced.

“Okay,” said Windflower and he sawed the tree near the bottom and tied it to the top of her car. They drove home and while he made them hot chocolate, Sheila laid out all the decorations that she wanted to use.

More…

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

 

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL
on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario.
He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have
appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in
the United States and New Zealand.

 

He is the author of the award-winning
Sgt. Windflower Mystery series set in beautiful Grand Bank. There are
now 12 books in this light mystery series with the publication of Dangerous Waters. A Tangled Web was shortlisted in 2017 for the best light mystery of the year, and Darkest Before the Dawn won the 2019 Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award. Mike has also published Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries, a Sgt. Windflower Book of Christmas past and present. And now Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries 2.

 

Mike is Past Chair of the Board of
Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian
crime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writers’
Guild and Ottawa Independent Writers and Capital Crime Writers.

 

You can follow the Sgt. Windflower Mysteries on Facebook / Website / Twitter

 

Sponsored By:

 

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High Impact

by Freya Barker

 

(High Mountain Trackers, #4)
Publication date: December 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Manager for Hart’s Horse Rescue, Lucy Lenoir, finally feels she has a handle on life after having worked hard to leave her old one behind. So hard, there are times she almost forgets what she escaped. Memories which suddenly come flooding back when she catches a glimpse of a familiar horseman in town.

What’s worse, he’s in the company of the unlikely cowboy she’s only just beginning to trust.

High Mountain Tracker, Bo Rivera, tries hard never to repeat his mistakes. A huge one changed the course of his life and made him particularly cautious, especially around women. So much so, he almost passed up on the best thing to ever walk into his life; the compact, blonde ballbuster in need of a gentle hand.

However, the more he learns about her, the more he realizes a soft touch alone won’t keep her demons at bay. Those will need a firmer hand…to keep the gun steady.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

Start the series with High Meadow:

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Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

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Author Freya Barker:

USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
With forty-plus books already published, she continues to create characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy.

Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We’ve Read All Year Award for “Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, and Finalist for the 2020 Kindle Book Award with “When Hope Ends”, Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Bookbub / Instagram / Newsletter / TikTok

 

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Welcome to my Stop on the virtual book tour for All Signs Point To Murder organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Connie di Marco will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

All Signs Point To Murder

A Zodiac Mystery

by Connie di Marco

Genre: Mystery

Synopsis

Rob Ramer was the perfect husband until he committed the ultimate family faux pas—he shot his sister-in-law to death. Believing himself under attack by an intruder in his home, he fired back. But when evidence is discovered that Rob’s wife, Brooke, was plotting his murder, Brooke is charged with conspiracy in her sister’s death. Geneva, a third sister, is desperate for answers and seeks the help of her friend, San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti. Geneva’s lost one sister and now it seems she’ll lose the other. Was this a murder plot or just a terrible accident? Julia vows to find the answer in the stars.

Check out this peek inside:

The building on Guerrero was a once proud Victorian with bow front windows. It had since been broken up into six small units and fallen into disrepair. There was something about this chore that made my stomach go into knots. Rummaging through a dead woman’s possessions was bad enough, but what if I found something that implicated Moira in a crime? Should I remove it and risk the police finding out?

I approached the long stairway leading to the front door. The wind had died down and now fog danced around the streetlights. It was eerily quiet. No lights shone from any of the windows. I climbed the cracked granite stairs to the entrance where the weathered door stood ajar, listing slightly on its hinges. Inside, a bare overhead light bulb cast a meager glow down the long corridor, cannibalized from a once grand entryway. The hallway smelled of dirty cat litter, moldy vegetables and cigarette smoke. I followed the corridor to the end, and stopped at the last door on the right.

I slipped the key into the lock and reached around the door jamb where I felt the light switch. A rusting chandelier with two bulbs missing illuminated the one large room that was both Moira’s living room and bedroom. The main room housed a collection of hand-me-downs and broken furniture, ripped curtains and piles of clothing in various spots around the floor.

I heaved up the mattress, first on one side and then the other, making sure nothing was hidden between it and the box spring. I pulled open each of the bureau drawers, checked their contents and pulled them all the way out to make sure nothing was behind them. I opened a small drawer in the bedside stand. Amid a loose pile of clutter was a dark blue velvet box embossed with the letter “R” in cursive gold script. Could this be from Rochecault? I was fairly certain it was. Rochecault is an infamously expensive jeweler on Maiden Lane downtown. How could Moira have shopped there?

I opened the box and gasped. An amazing bracelet heavy with blue stones in varying colors rested inside. The setting had the slightly matte industrial sheen of platinum. Moira couldn’t possibly have afforded this. Shoving the box into a side pocket of my purse, I decided I was definitely not leaving this for the police to find, and slid the drawer shut.

I scanned the room. Moira hadn’t been much of a housekeeper and it didn’t appear as if there were many hiding spots. My eye caught a small black notebook under a jumble of papers and unopened bills on a rickety desk. I dropped my purse on the floor and reached for the book. A searing pain shot through my skull. Blinded, I fell to the floor.

About Author Connie di Marco:

Connie di Marco is the author of the Zodiac Mysteries featuring Julia Bonatti, a San Francisco astrologer who never thought murder would be part of her practice: The Madness of Mercury, All Signs Point to Murder, Tail of the Dragon, Serpent’s Doom and Enter a Wizard, Stage Left (a prequel e-book novella). Writing as Connie Archer, she is also the author of the national bestselling Soup Lover’s Mysteries from Penguin Random House. You can find her excerpts and recipes in The Cozy Cookbook and The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook. Connie is a member of Mystery Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, Crime Writers Association (UK) and Sisters in Crime.

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Blood Of The Hunted organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Marc Micciola will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Blood Of The Hunted

by Marc R. Micciola

Genre: Fantasy

Synopsis

The Resistance Is Rising

Weylyn, Olwen, and other members of the marginalized and subjugated group known as the Tóráin are trying every day to gain equality and freedom. Their enemies, which consist of vile human monarchs, their soldiers, and a masked witch assassin known only as The Dove, continue to tighten their grip around the necks of the Tóráin.

Leading The Resistance, Weylyn and Olwen endure many trials that test them physically and mentally, relying on their loved ones to keep them from losing hope. They both wish to see a time of equality and peace, but to achieve that requires more than what they have. Desperation leads The Resistance to find new allies all across the continent of Kosavros with the goal of finally defeating their oppressive overseers.

Their fight for freedom and respect leads Weylyn and Olwen down paths that open their eyes to new dangers, both involving themselves and the rest of the world. However, they do not waiver. For the Tóráin are known for their resilience, and they have already endured much. What comes next will be hard, but they’re ready to fight for their lives. Together.

Check out this peek inside:

It was rare to hear someone sing a song in our language. One, because most soldiers liked to arrest you for doing so, and two, because not many even knew our old ways of speaking anymore. Once the hunting of the Tóráin was over, humans made sure to strip away whatever connection we had to our homeland. They tossed everyone under the age of twenty into schools to be taught the common language. Some were even forced to learn their country’s native tongue as well. If you spoke our language in public, you were beaten or imprisoned, or both. Some families resisted this aggressive conformity and taught their children Séúbua as well as many other things.

My mother was a stubborn sprite, and her mother was an even greater pain in the ass. They were both smart enough to keep such things secretive, but they taught my siblings and me as much as they could about our old home. Songs, recipes, stories; everything was taught in our language. I used to quietly sing for my parents when I was young, and when I got older, I became brazen and sang at bars and inns that called themselves safe havens for the Tóráin. It was risky to sing these songs in public, even in a place that claimed to be safe, but I still did it. I felt proud to do it. I stopped a long time ago though, and my reason for doing so was clawing to the forefront of my mind.

About Author Marc R. Micciola:

Marc R. Micciola lives in Ontario, Canada with his two dogs Rielly and Ace. He has a great passion for hockey, movies, and books. He possesses a book collection consisting of a multitude of fantasy stories. Many of these novels are from his favorite authors: Mark Lawrence, George R. R. Martin, Tom Lloyd, and J. R. R. Tolkien. His prize possessions are his two replica swords from the Lord of the Rings films and his growing number of fountain pens. When Marc isn’t writing, he’s spending time with his dogs, his family, and his friends. Photography and wood art are other things that Marc enjoys doing. Marc’s goal when writing any book is to put together a story that is enjoyable, emotional, and intriguing. If the words on the page make you feel something, then this author feels he’s done his job.

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Resting Grinch Face

by Alina Jacobs

 

Publication date: November 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

I might not be able to ruin his life, but I will ruin his Christmas.

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Yeah, I’m totally a grinch. But I come by it honestly.
Because of Oliver Frost, I flamed out at Harvard in the most humiliating way possible.
Now I’m back in my small town—just in time to suffer through a display of small-town Christmas cheer so festive it will make you puke your eggnog. But who cares about being home for the holidays when you live with your family like a loser and have to share one bathroom with seven other people?

I plan to spend my Christmas purgatory being tsked at by elderly residents and passive aggressively prodded by my mom’s friends about what I plan to do with my life.
I don’t know, Deborah, work in the Christmas market and get screamed at by tourists because I didn’t put enough sprinkles on their little brats’ coffees? Seriously, who gives five-year-olds that much caffeine anyway?!

See? Like I said. A grinch.
I hate Christmas.
I set a nativity scene on fire.
Got in a fistfight with an elf—I lost, by the way.
And threw a vat of Snowman Surprise all over Oliver. Don’t ask. Small-town Christmas insanity.
Sleigh what? Oliver is here???
The man who humiliated me and ruined my life?

Ho ho ho, fuck no.

He doesn’t deserve a quaint small-town Christmas.
He doesn’t deserve a fancy Christmas tree from my family’s farm.
And he certainly does not deserve to win a bottle of whiskey in the daily Christmas market raffle.
Goddamn, I needed that drink.
He should be haunted like Ebenezer Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Past. Or at least the Ghost of Hookups Past.

Momma’s gonna have herself a very merry Christmas revenge.
Swapping the salt and sugar so his Christmas cookies are ruined? Be still, my shriveled little heart.
Spying on him so I can gather recon to ruin his holidate? Damn, I forgot how ripped his chest was.
Sneaking down his chimney to steal all the presents under his tree? Amateur hour.
Until I get caught…

Guess I’m spending Christmas in jail.
But when he sees I’m not wearing a bra under my ugly Christmas sweater, Oliver smiles like Santa has come early.
Crap! I knew I should have worn my good underwear.

Hold on to your stockings because the eggnog is spicy and mostly booze. This is a fuck-second-chances, Santa-stalker, holiday-revenge romantic comedy. Featuring Christmas-hating heroines with poor decision-making skills, ripped guys who will leave a very large package under your tree, and adorable corgis dressed up as reindeer, this standalone book has a happily ever after, guaranteed!

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

I slid like a squirrel straddling the roof peak, scooting along the ridgeline to the massive brick fireplace. I pried the round ceramic top off and stuck my head inside.

The Victorians liked their fireplaces.

While my parents’ wood-burning fire was more of a stovepipe, this house had been built to hold a massive fire.

I swung my feet over and shimmied into the chimney. Below me, Max must have figured out what was up because he was barking, the noise echoing up the chimney shaft.

“Dang, I can’t believe I fit,” I marveled. The cold air whipped my face, and I had a moment of clarity.

“Maybe this was a bridge too far,” I said and tried to hoist myself back up.

The chimney rim was slick with ice. My hand slipped. Then I fell down into the sooty black tube.

I stopped abruptly, my teeth knocking together.

“Help,” I squeaked.

I was stuck in the chimney, my arms wedged up above my head. Every time I let out a breath I slid farther down. My skirt was wedged under my boobs, and my sweater was wrapped around my head and neck.

“Help!” I rasped, kicking my legs. “Max, get help.”

The dog’s frantic barking changed to excited yips.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around my soot-covered thighs.

In any other scenario, I would have been really put out that Oliver was finally touching me only after I had flaked on working out the past year and developed a layer of winter flab. But I just wanted to be free. It was difficult to breathe.

“Save me,” I forced myself to whisper.

“Shit,” Oliver said, giving a solid tug on my legs.

I wedged down farther.

“I think you’re stuck in there.” His hands disappeared.

“Don’t leave me,” I begged.

His hand was back, his thumb stroking me reassuringly on my ankle.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to call the fire department. We’ll probably have to dismantle the chimney. I’m sure my neighbors will complain to me about it.” I heard the eye roll in his voice. Then his phone emitted beeps.

I kicked my feet. “Don’t you dare, Oliver Frost. Don’t you dare call the fire department. My mother will find out. I’ll be the talk of the town for years. Decades. It will be on my tombstone.”

“I can’t leave you here,” he said, voice echoing up the shaft.

“Oh, yes you can. I insist. I’ll be dead and done rotting in about three weeks. Then we can all just pretend this never happened.”

“Are you insane?”

Oh God. I had a horrible thought.

He can probably see straight up my crotch.

Was I wearing my nice underwear? Did I even own any sufficiently nice underwear?

“Please,” I begged. “My life is shit. Please just try pulling me out one more time?”

“I’m afraid to make you more stuck. Embarrassment won’t kill you.”

“It literally will,” I shrieked with my remaining breath.

Oliver muttered something that sounded like “God save me from this woman.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, moving the logs and the metal grate out of the way. “I’m giving this one shot. Then we’re going to host the fire department for the second time in as many days.”

After a rustling of fabric, his large hands slid up my bare legs.

“Sorry for manhandling you like this.”

His bare arms circled my waist, and I squawked as he wrapped them around my bare torso, connecting my body with his.

I could feel his bare chest against my thighs.

His head was somewhere in crotch vicinity, and he squeezed me tight.

Maybe I could just tell him to eat me out and then die happy.

Oliver gave a sharp hard tug. My sweater slipped up.

He adjusted his grasp and pulled, grunting hard.

“I think I’m moving,” I called.

He gave one more strong tug. My sweater ripped, and then I was free, tumbling down in a heap of ash and yarn on top of him.

He was covered in black soot. It was all over his pale skin, turning his hair a dark gray and making his eyes a startlingly bright blue.

“See,” I said, spreading my arms. “I knew you could do it. And you wanted to call the fire department.”

He didn’t say a word. He was staring at me, or more specifically my boobs.

I looked down.

“Elf balls.”

Author Alina Jacobs:

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I’m your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!

Mailing List / Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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Today I am sharing an excerpt from The Red Slippers by USA Today Bestselling author Ruth A. Casie. This historical romance is a standalone novella in her Druid Knight series. Grab some hot cocoa and check out the Red Slippers and be sure to enter the giveaway!

The Red Slippers

 

It would take magic for Cosette to believe in her abilities.

It would take Avery to conjure up the spell.

Cosette Binet has dreams of being a ballerina. When she learns the Paris Opera Ballet needs additional dancers, she applies. While practicing for her audition, she dances into the arms of the handsome artistic director and dancer, Avery Dubois. The subsequent audition is magical. It is a dream come true.

Avery Dubois is enchanted by Cosette and impressed with her talent. He offers her a well-deserved place in the corps de ballet. His keen eye sees a great dancer as well as a woman he could love.

Cosette captivates the audiences as she has captivated Avery’s heart. She is chosen to dance more roles but is plagued with doubt. When she has difficulty dancing she is sure she is not good enough for the ballet or for Avery. But Avery believes her doubt is a self-fulling prophecy. While trying to help her, he comes upon a pair of worn red ballet slippers. He gives them to Cosette telling her they are the shoes of a great dancer and are filled with magic.

Do the red slippers hold the magic to make Cosette a great ballerina and remove her doubts about Avery’s love?

*available in KindleUnlimited

Check out this peek inside:

 

Tomorrow. Once the performance was over, everything would end. No more Suzanne, which was a welcome relief. But no more dancing. No more Avery.

Cosette turned to say goodnight, but the passion in his eyes stopped her.

He took her in his arms and cupped her head. His gaze was a soft caress. She was afraid to move. Afraid she would break the spell.

“You are dear to me, princess.”

Her heart wasn’t doing pirouettes. It was beating a quick staccato tempo. Her eyes closed. She waited. Anticipated.

Soft velvet lips covered hers. There was no resisting him. His kiss sent a shudder through her, tossing her mind in a wild swirl and taking her body with it. She put her arms around him and pulled him closer shocked by her own eager response.

Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.

He raised his mouth from hers. The cool air touched her lips that still burned for him. The passion and tenderness that filled his eyes fanned the fire of desire.

For several heartbeats neither of them moved. Neither wanted to say good night. Over the weeks, the eagerness to be with him hadn’t subsided. It grew stronger. This couldn’t be the end. The very thought brought her to tears.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Sleep well tonight. Tomorrow will be here soon. I can’t wait to see you dance. But, princess, I don’t want tomorrow to be the end of our time together.”

Her heart shuddered and her pulse pounded as he voiced what she was feeling.

“Neither do I.” Her voice was a whisper.

About Author Ruth A. Casie

RUTH A. CASIE is a USA Today bestselling author of historical swashbuckling action-adventures and contemporary romance with enough action to keep you turning pages. Her stories feature strong women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all. She lives in New Jersey with her hero, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she found her voice, she was a speech therapist (pun intended), client liaison for a corrugated manufacturer, and vice president at an international bank where she was a product/marketing manager, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now-writing romance. She hopes her stories become your favorite adventures.

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One lucky winner will win a signed copy of The Knight of Runes (Book 1 in the Druid Knight Series). If an international winner is drawn, they will receive a $10 gift card and signed bookplate. Giveaway ends December 7, 2022.


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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

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Stripes

Devil’s Boneyard MC 12

by Harley Wylde

Genre: MC Romantic Suspense

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Melina — Men have never given me a reason to trust them. The Bratva taught me men are brutal. Selfish. And take what they want. Death would be better than tying myself to one ever again. Then a Russian biker swoops in to save me. As much as I want to believe everything he says, how can I? I’ve only known pain at the hands of men. I want him to be different… but any hope I had died long ago.

Stripes — She thinks she’s broken. I see a survivor. A strong woman who’s still standing despite what’s been done to her. It will take time, but I’ll help her heal. Prove not all men are evil. I’ll give her a reason to keep living. Never again will someone cause her pain. If they do, they’ll answer to me. My hands are already stained with blood. What’s a little more?

WARNING: Recommended for readers 18+ due to language, violence, and adult situations. Stripes is part of the Devil’s Boneyard MC series and contains darker content some readers may find objectionable. Stripes can be read as a stand-alone story, even though it’s part of a series.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * ChangelingPress * Bookbub * Goodreads

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What Goes Into a Harley Wylde Book?

That’s a rather loaded question because it really depends on the book itself, and the characters. In the case of my latest release – Stripes – I felt completely drained by the time I finished writing it. Melina’s character had such a traumatic beginning that it left her feeling broken and hopeless. I felt all of her emotions, as well as those of Stripes, and had to take breaks to get through it in one piece.

Other books challenged me in other ways. Rooster, which is in the same series, has quite a bit of humor tossed in – mostly of the sarcastic variety. The book was fun to write, and more upbeat than most of my stories, but it had it’s own set of challenges.

What I can say you will certainly get with every book I write is this… a guaranteed happily ever after, no cheating, and no cliffhangers! Why? Because that’s what I enjoy in a story. Cliffhangers are a no for me, unless I can know I can pick up the next book almost immediately. So I don’t like using them in my own books. And I don’t personally find cheating books sexy, so I just can’t write one. There’s nothing wrong with someone enjoying those types of stories, but they aren’t for me. I’d end up incredibly angry with my characters if I wrote one of those.

My books almost always have an age gap couple as well, and the bulk of my books are either motorcycle club or mafia romances. That’s not to say all of them are… I’ve also written a handyman, a mechanic, a police officer, an assassin, and a rockstar.

But I promise I’ll bring the heat, a bit of drama, some suspense or laughter (depending on the characters), and will leave you smiling by the end.

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🤩 SNEAK PEEK ✨

Copyright 2022, Harley Wylde

 

Melina

 

Marriage to Ruslan had been nothing but pure hell since day one. He’d given me two beautiful daughters, and I wouldn’t wish them away for anything, but every other moment of our lives had been only pain and humiliation. I’d learned early never to speak back, and to never ask questions. If he told me to do something, I did it, regardless of whether I should.

Which was how I found myself in trouble.

I bowed my head, refusing to make eye contact with Feliks Sobol. The higher ups had left him in charge for some reason, not that it mattered. When Ruslan forced me to aid him in his thirst for power, I’d known it wouldn’t end well for me. But I’d done it, because the alternative would mean letting him kill me, and leaving my girls vulnerable. I’d have done anything to keep Yulia and Oksana safe. Although, I had a feeling Ruslan had embellished my involvement. One last chance for him to make my life hell.

“Melina Romanov, do you know why you’re here?” Feliks asked.

Nyet, Mr. Sobol.” No one had told me outright why I’d been brought in. The fact my husband hadn’t returned home had left me uneasy. They had to have caught him, and now I’d pay the price as well. Ruslan wouldn’t go down without a fight, and nothing would delight him more than knowing the Bratva would destroy me.

“Your husband is guilty of breaking multiple laws. He tried to cheat the Bratva, and he’s failed. At this very moment, he’s being tortured to gain more information on those who aided him.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Your name came up.”

I clenched my hands. It didn’t surprise me. Anything Ruslan had asked me to do could possibly have tied into his human trafficking ring. I wouldn’t have known since he told me very little. Although, I did know what he’d been up to. He hadn’t kept it a secret from me. In fact, I thought he got off on letting me know about the women and children who would suffer at his hands. If I’d gone to anyone without proof, they wouldn’t have believed me.

“Nothing to say?” Feliks asked.

“Will it matter?” I doubted it. If my husband hadn’t cared what I had to say, why would this man? In the Bratva, women were to be seen and not heard. We were merely a decoration, or a means to gain power through political marriages. Nothing more. Except in my husband’s case, we were meant for twisted forms of entertainment. The louder we screamed, the more he got off on the pain he inflicted.

“For your crimes, you’ll spend the rest of your days in one of our brothels. Seems fitting, doesn’t it? You’re guilty of helping Ruslan Romanov steal women and children and selling them into sexual slavery. Now you’ll be in the same predicament. Just so we’re clear, it won’t be one of our upscale places.”

I swallowed the knot of fear lodged in my throat and gave a short nod. Pleading for my life wouldn’t do me any good. Telling him I was innocent would only fall on deaf ears, or perhaps anger him. The thought of being used by countless men made me sick. I’d been a dutiful wife, and I’d been a virgin when Ruslan married me. I’d never been with anyone other than him. Of course, being in his bed had been far from pleasant, but I had a feeling my life would be much worse now.

“This is rather disappointing,” Feliks murmured. “I’d hoped for some sort of reaction. Do you enjoy being a whore? Is that why you aren’t crying and begging for me to spare you?”

Bile rose in my throat when I contemplated what my life would be like moving forward. I hadn’t liked my husband touching me. The thought of strangers paying to use me made me want to throw up. All my choices had been taken from me. I hadn’t had many to begin with. As long as they could pay, they’d be permitted to do whatever they wanted with me.

“Still nothing?” Feliks asked, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admitted. “Begging won’t do me any good. Saying I’m innocent won’t either. Whether I speak up or remain silent, my fate will remain the same.”

“Smart woman.” Feliks smiled, but the sight chilled me to the bone.

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Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!

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Hunted

by V.M. Nelson

 

(The Dhampyr Series, #1)
Publication date: October 25th 2022
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

Tasi, an eighteen-year-old, head-strong, blood-drinking, dhampyr, has been hidden away in a small town in Maine since the death of her parents. Though she had trained to fight and kill vampires, she never believed those skills would be useful in her mundane life. That’s where she’s wrong.

In one moment, her life changes forever, and her aunt’s final words ring in her head.

They want your blood.

Now orphaned and charged with protecting her sister, Emily—a sister who doesn’t know what they are or that she’s about to endure a life-threatening change—Tasi has no other choice but to follow directions left for her. She is to find an ally who lives in New York City. This is the only way Tasi will figure out why she and Emily are being hunted before they end up drained of their blood.

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SNEAK PEEK:

What started out as a routine task to find blood turned into an onslaught of pain. I rubbed my eyes, allowing the darkness that filled my head to fizzle away. My hands, tender from scraping against the gravel, grasped at the cold metal fence. I flinched as my cuts burned against the steel. I’d done this to myself. The thumping under my skin and my lack of balance were all a result of ignoring my need to feed.

Now here I sat, watching my blood as it dripped down my leg and pooled onto the sidewalk. A tingling sensation ran through me as I flicked out the tiny shards that had embedded themselves in my skin. My body helped to push them out in an effort to heal itself. This was not part of tonight’s plan. I stared back up at the fence—my nemesis. Razor-sharp wire wrapped itself around the top of the rusty, twelve-foot-high chain-link barricade.

Take the shortcut, Tasi. It’ll be quicker and safer, Tasi. What a stupid idea.

Under normal circumstances, I could dart up the fence, hop over the barbed wire, and gracefully land on my feet. My overall dexterity might have won me a gold medal in gymnastics, but that was so not happening in my current condition.

An ache thundered through my body as I reached for the fence again. I hoisted myself up for the first time since tumbling off. With one last labored breath, I ran my hands down my pants, dislodging the remaining rocks from my newly healed skin. Nearby, a rustling sound echoed through the alley. My breath caught. The metal garbage cans clanked together as if they were being tossed around. If I were human, I wouldn’t think twice about the commotion. Lucky for me, I knew better. It was probably setting up to kill its next victim. There were a few shady-looking dive bars and run-down nightclubs in this area. The repetitive pounding of music stemming from different directions would drown out all screams. This was a perfect feeding ground.

Over the past few months, these creatures had become my reality. Since I was thirteen, I’d known of their existence, but only recently had I been in the same vicinity as them. And when they were around, you didn’t want to be, so it was time to go.

With a quick pivot in the opposite direction, I ran. I didn’t get farther than a few feet before my shoelace caught in the grate and my chin scraped against the ground. More blood dripped from my body.

Tasi, seriously—what else can go wrong?

Wrapping the shoelace around my fingers, I yanked until it released itself. By the time I tucked it into my shoe, it was too late. It had heard me. The pounding in my ears was no longer from the nightclubs but the pavement, and it was getting louder. I’d piqued its interest. Rather, my blood had piqued its interest.

Author V. M. Nelson

V. M. Nelson is the author of The Dhampyr Series. She writes upper young adult paranormal, urban fantasy with a touch of romance thrown in. When she isn’t writing, you can find her playing video games.

Virginia resides in Minnesota with her partner and three children. She has always had an obsession for myths, legends, and fairytales. If asked, she would prefer to live in an alternate universe with vampires and fairies.

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Christmas Spirits

by Dakota Star

 

Publication date: November 15th 2022
Genres: Adult, Holiday, Romance, Thriller

Ash has always felt at home in the small town of Humble, Connecticut, especially for the holidays. After her husband’s death, she never thought she’d love again, but then Cole Whelan arrived. His good looks and haunted hazel eyes were impossible to ignore, and their passion put an end to her simple, ordered life. This year, she can’t wait to celebrate with hot chocolate, a tree to decorate, and presents, lots of presents.

But when Ash stumbles into a cave and a corpse during a run, Christmas turns into crisis. There’s a killer on the hunt, and she’s his next target. With the snow falling, Ash hosting for the holidays, and another mysterious murder, will all hope of holiday cheer be trashed like old wrapping paper?

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SNEAK PEEK:

She jogged, warming up along the start of the trail, and then increased the tempo. Maple, beech, and birch lined the singletrack, the rough texture and bark color the only indication of the different species of deciduous trees.

Ash sped up, tightening her ponytail in the elastic; a few long, wayward curls drooped down her back. She felt the heat build under her thermal top and vest as her arms and legs pumped. Rambo kept pace.

I need this run. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. In and out. Repeat.

The exercise opened her lungs and stretched lean, athletic limbs until the energy flowing became liquid fire. Invigorated, she picked up the pace again.

Ash saw the cave, her two-mile marker and turnabout point. Surveying the rocky landscape, she gulped air before the return trip. She wiped the sweat from her brow and then ran her damp hands along her black spandex leggings.

Turning back, Rambo refused to follow. He barked and pulled on the leash. His small body was stiff, the fur on his back straight up. He pulled her toward the cave.

“Come on Rambo, let’s go home.” Ash shivered and pulled on the leash.

The dog refused to yield.
“Fine.” She stumbled, realizing her shoe hated her and even with a double knot had come untied again. She bent to retie the laces, double knotting the strings, pulling them tight with vengeance. Standing, Ash hiked the rocky precipice, the dog pulling ahead. The final steps to the cave coalesced along a dirt and twig laden path. The cliff adjacent to her was a high point on the trail, but she had no plans to scale it.

Large rock outcrops created a dark cave entrance shaped like a mouth mid scream. Rambo barked and lunged.

Ash had heard stories of people living in or visiting these caves, from historic figures to modern day squatters. She found it easy to envision a camper coming to one before dark, starting a small fire with kindling, preparing a meal, and enjoying the quiet of nature. At least it was possible to imagine during the warmer months. No one would want to be out here in winter, even if the daytime temperature had topped forty degrees.

Rambo pulled her inside the cave. Instantly claustrophobic, the interior narrowed to a pinpoint at the end. Ash ducked as she made her way under the formation’s schist and gneiss slabs. Cold engulfed her. Rich, dark rock mosaics greeted her from the recesses. Crouching slightly, she scurried forward. “What the heck?” A horrid stench stung her nose A lump rose from the ground and in her throat. Something had died here. Ash pulled out her phone, turned on the flashlight, aimed toward the misshapen entity, and gasped. In the far corner—a body.

About Author Dakota Star:

Dakota Star lives in Connecticut with her husband and two daughters. Both her daughters have finished college and moved away so her dogs, cats, and retired horse now keep her busy. When not outside hiking or horseback riding, she loves to read and travel.

She has worked as an editor, a freelance writer for local newspapers, and an educator at local environmental non-profits like aquariums and The National Audubon Society.

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Secrets of the Gold by Baer Charlton Banner

Secrets of the Gold

by Baer Charlton

November 7 – December 2, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

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Secrets of the Gold by [Baer Charlton]

Synopsis:

Concealed in his jacket are ingots of gold; he just doesn’t remember why.

A young girl running from an abusive foster home kidnaps the older biker with a mystery for a past. Leaving the mining town in Colorado and crossing state lines, anything can happen. What neither is looking for or expecting is friendship. But in the cold of the desert night, life lessons can go both ways—even if they are not about a million dollars in gold. Growing up is hard enough, even without the shooting.  

Praise for Secrets of the Gold:

“kept me spellbound”

“you will have a very hard time putting this book down!”

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Coming of Age, Female Sleuth

Published by: Mordant Media Publication Date: March 2022 Number of Pages: 374 ISBN: 1949316203 (ISBN-13 9781949316209)

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Books2Read

Read an excerpt:

Eight Years Before

Someone unexpected at the front door is exciting—for a nine-year-old girl. But time and experience change people. “I’ll get it,” she squealed. The sound of cheap sneakers slapped on the cheap flooring. Military housing, even off-base, has never changed. Expensive big toys were always more exciting for congressional representatives than looking after the troops and their families. “Check the peephole before you open the door.” The polished brass belt buckles dully reflected the peeling white of the door. The dark blue of the uniforms wasn’t what she was used to seeing around the base, but she had seen them occasionally. Pulling on the door, she yelled over her shoulder. “It’s a couple of marines like Daddy.” The enormous crash at the back of the small apartment ricocheted off the rigid walls and out the open door. It hit the two lieutenants hard. One with their mouth half open. The man looked at his female companion as she hurried into the apartment. The man reached for the girl’s arm. “Mom?” * * * The California sun did nothing to brighten the day. The two lieutenants in dress blues stood a short distance away. The casket sat draped with flowers, but only two adults and a young girl filled the fourteen chairs. The girl’s hazel eyes appeared washed out—more watery-blue than green. The swell of her lower lip slowly sucked in and then released over and over. The blink had nothing to do with what the chaplain was saying. It had nothing to do with her world. The black dress didn’t fit her, but at least it covered the scrapes and scars on her knees. The long sleeves performed the same service for her arms. The rusty blonde hair, chopped at the center of her neck, was the only acknowledgment of her being less than delicate. The deep low rumble of the officer’s voice left his Minnesota lips motionless. The sound carried only to his partner. “What now?” The woman shrugged slightly. “Any relatives at all?” The woman turned her head slightly. “There’s an older uncle. He’ll be available, possibly in ten to fifteen—if he behaves this time.” The man frowned and looked out from the side of his eye. They had worked together long enough for the silent shorthand. “Aggravated homicide with extenuating circumstances.” His eyes didn’t move. He was waiting for the boot to drop. “Beat his wife and then cut off her breasts and legs to let her bleed out.” Her eyes moved to lock on his. “He caught her in bed with his best friend.” The man’s frown furrowed deep. “And his friend? What did he do to him?” The woman’s eyes snapped to a distant tableau—seven marines with seven rifles for a different burial. “You mean her. His best friend since high school. He beat her to death with the waffle iron.” They both came to attention and saluted the three-shot salute of the honor guard from across the cemetery. The other funeral was well attended, even though it was unusual for military internment with honors to be held in a civilian cemetery. The passing thought was that the funeral was for a much-loved senior member of a large family. “Did they cross-check the weapon of choice for a match…?” If the dead were not theirs or family, they were fair game for lighthearted banter. “The prints matched. The iron was still hot when he struck.” The last rifle volley faded away as three riflemen gave their squad leader a cartridge. The two officers watched as the squad leader marched over to the casket and began folding the flag with the rest of the honor guards. The three shells folded into the flag forever. Some thought the seven riflemen firing three volleys was a twenty-one gun salute. But the tradition didn’t come from salutes of Man-O-War dreadnaughts but to let an opposing army know they had cleared the field of battle of their dead. The three spent shells also had a simpler meaning than many thought—the flag was from a military funeral. Nothing more. They presented the folded flag to the soldier’s spouse or parent. The two officers couldn’t tell the woman’s age through the black veil. The man nodded his chin toward the small girl, who looked frightened by the whole proceeding. After that, they resumed standing at ease. The female lieutenant spoke softly. “Child Services is picking her up this afternoon.” “None of the family friends could take her? Keep her in the same school or with people she knows?” The woman rolled her eyes shut and opened them again as she faced the man. “You grew up a navy brat. How many new schools did you go to before you got out of high school?” “Fifteen or sixteen.” He looked back at the woman. “Dad was on the fast track. We lived on sixteen bases in seven different countries. He wanted dragons on both arms.” She nodded. “Yeah. A double shellback. I’ve seen a few. The tattoos become muddy, ugly, and smeared by the time you’re eighty. But by then, who cares?” *** Excerpt from Secrets of the Gold by Baer Charlton. Copyright 2022 by Baer Charlton. Reproduced with permission from Baer Charlton. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Baer Charlton:

Baer Charlton

Baer Charlton, is an Amazon Best-Selling author, and a Social-Anthropologist. His many interests have led him worldwide in search of the unique. As an internationally recognized Photo Journalist, he has tracked mountain gorillas, been a podium for a Barbary Ape, communicated in sign language with an Orangutan named Boolon, kissed a kangaroo, and had many other wild experiences in between. Or he was just monkeying around. His love for sailing has led him to file assignments from various countries, as well as from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean aboard a five-mast sailing ship. Baer has spoken on five continents, plus lecturing at sea. His copyrighted logo is “WR1T3R”. Within every person, there is a story. But inside that story, even a more memorable story. Those are the stories he likes to tell. There is no more complex and incredible story than those coming from the human experience. Whether it is a Marine finding his way home as a civilian or a girl who’s just trying to grow up, Mr. Charlton’s stories are all driven by the characters you come to think of as friends.

Catch Up With Baer Charlton: www.BaerCharlton.com Goodreads BookBub – @BaerCharlton Twitter – @baer_charlton Facebook – @WR1T3R

 

 

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