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Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Culloden Spirit by Anita Davison
Culloden Spirit by Anita Davison.
Blurb:
Carrie Gordon's season in her native York was an unqualified success, until the young man who paid her so much attention married someone else.
When her family takes a summer trip to her father’s ancestral home in the Scottish Highlands, her handsome Scottish cousin, Duncan McRae, takes an immediate dislike to Carrie, mainly due to her father’s plans to refurbish Cair Innes castle which is in need of extensive repair beyond the means of its present owner and resident, Iain McRae.
Carrie feels the vacation will be a disaster until she discovers a strange young man while exploring the derelict castle, However, she soon learns Ruairi McRae is not what he seems, and the battle he intends to fight was lost by his clan a hundred and fifty years before.
Will Carrie be able to accept that she cannot be part of Ruairi’s world? And when the Roma arrive to camp on Bucks Meadow as they do every summer, who is the beautiful gypsy girl Duncan won't talk about?
Released in ebook at the end of September 2011!
Thursday, 4 August 2011
The Right Man by Anne Whitfield
The Right Man by Anne Whitfield
Blurb:
Molly Daniels is on summer holiday in a small town in the country to recover from a broken marriage. She’s hurt, disillusioned, and unsure of her future. The last thing she is looking for is a man.
Sebastian Lord is the town’s most eligible bachelor, a title he hates. Having given up a successful career in the city, he now owns a small farm and is content to hide away there, away from the real world that has hurt him in the past. Since his fiancĂ© was killed four years ago, he’s refused to enter the dating game again.
An unlikely pair, Seb’s newly adopted and wayward dog has an uncanny habit of bringing the two together. Though each has their own doubts, they give into the call of a strong, mutual attraction and share a hot summer together, but can they shed past hurts to embrace future happiness together?
Excerpt
As the tractor jerked forward, Molly quickly clung to his shoulders. The firm feel of them beneath her fingers sent a delicious tingle throughout her body. If she leant forward, she could see straight down his bare chest and the glistening sweat that beaded there. Her insides clenched, and she grew hot and moist at the very core of her body. She closed her eyes in acute pleasure and pain of being near him and wanting him, yet unable to have him.
Again the reaction to him knocked her for six. Of course, there had been attraction between her and Mike, but never like this, never these mind-numbing, nerve-tingling sensations from a mere glance. Being close to Sebastian made her a little crazy. She wanted to do things that would never normally enter her mind. Thoughts of running her tongue down his taut stomach or—
“Hold on, there’s a bit of a bump here.” His call brought her back to the present, and her face grew hotter at what she had been thinking.
Molly swayed as the tractor rumbled down a shallow water rut and up again. She’d never ridden on a tractor before, and the bumping experience made her chuckle. Adrenalin sizzled through her, bringing everything into sharper focus—the smell of the tractor’s engine, the scent of crushed grass, the musky deodorant he wore.
The heat of the day paled, the problems of her failed marriage seemed no longer important as Sebastian glanced over his shoulder and winked at her. Who would have thought that the simple act of riding a tractor with a handsome guy would give her such joy?
He drove into the yard and around the back of the old farmhouse into the large barn. Once inside he cut the engine, and the calm, lazy noises of summer regained control again. He climbed down and then held out his hand to help her.
Stepping down beside him, she looked up into his eyes and grinned. “I enjoyed that.”
“I’m glad.” His gaze dropped to her lips and Molly could only stare and wonder if he could read the desire in her eyes. Surely he could?
Her whole body came alive, clamoring for his attention, his touch. His hand still held hers, and she didn’t want to break the contact. They stood close, only inches apart. His bare chest so tantalisingly near, and she wanted to feel it beneath her fingertips, to lick, and kiss the bronzed skin. He was like a sickness and she had no cure. Perhaps she should have wild sex with him to get him out of her system. Mike had done it all through their marriage. It was just sex, he would say. Just sex, it meant nothing…
Buy for .99 cents in varying formats at Smashwords or on Amazon Kindle
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
Surrender To Destiny by Maggi Andersen
Surrender To Destiny by Maggi Andersen.
Two actor’s lives begin to parallel the characters in Surrender to Destiny, the movie they are making of a Victorian murder story. Astrid Leclair and Dylan Shaw are irresistibly drawn to one another and their passionate scenes steam up the screen.
In Victorian London, Giovanna Russo finds herself penniless on the streets, fighting for independence in a city where a woman’s choices are few. London with its smoggy, dark alleyways is a dangerous place for a girl to be, but now it’s got more personal, someone wants her dead.
When Blair Dunleavy, a wealthy, Irish gentleman sees Gina Russo in her stepfather’s painting, he includes her in his plans for the perfect life. A wife in Ireland and a mistress in London. But the best laid plans...
Buy from Amazon.com
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Twin Flames by Debbie Christiana
Twin Flame by Debbie Christiana
She’d never met him before…or had she?
The last thing forty-year old Natalia Santagario expected was to be sitting on a Manhattan barstool ogling a man she’s never met, but swears she knows.
He didn’t know her at all…or did he?
The mysterious dark-haired woman at the end of the bar stops twenty-eight year old Marc Tremonti in his tracks. His head assures him she’s a stranger, but his heart tells him otherwise.
Together they embark on an adventure that will change their lives forever.
Their attraction instant and enigmatic, they undergo past life regression and discover that, not only have they spent hundreds of lives together as lovers, Natalia holds the secret to Marc’s puzzling birthmark.
But what should have been a joyful reunion is complicated by a kind, albeit confused, almost ex-wife, an unfortunate accident in a taxicab, and a bout of temporary amnesia that threatens to ruin everything. On top of all that, they must contend with a mischievious ghost from their past.
What else could possibly go wrong?
Excerpt:
“Nat, are you almost ready?” Ellie asked.
“Yeah, and I’m hungry.”
“Should we take Nat to that Italian restaurant we found last time?” Christine asked.
“Sure,” Ellie said. “Want to try it, Nat?”
“Do you both think with a name like Natalia Santagario I don’t get enough Italian food? I was hoping for a big juicy steak and bottle of red wine.”
“I guess we could have steak, but this place is really good. Plus all the waiters are cute.”
“You’re both married,” said Natalia.
“But you’re not,” Christine said, pointing a finger at her.
“Whatever. I don’t care. I’m starving. Let’s go.”
A crowded subway ride later, they arrived at Tremonti’s restaurant on West Fifty-Fourth Street.
Before they went inside, Natalia stopped her two friends. “Thank you,” she said. “I really needed this. I’m glad you kept harassing me about coming with you.”
“We told you so,” said Ellie with a smile.
As they entered the restaurant, they were swallowed by a crowd of shoppers, tourists, and people reveling in the holiday season. Sandwiched between her friends and the other hungry inhabitants of the restaurant, Natalia couldn’t help but notice the wonderful aromas swirling around the room. For a moment, she was a little girl in her grandmother’s Brooklyn apartment, having Sunday dinner.
As she inhaled once more, a strange sensation took hold of her. Her body temperature seemed to shoot to a hundred degrees. Sweat formed on her brow. Light headed, she could feel the color drain from her face.
“Nat, what’s wrong?” Christine asked, resting her hand on Natalia’s shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
No, I’m used to seeing ghosts. “I’m fine. It’s hot in here, that’s all. Let’s try to work our way to the bar so I can get some water.”
They started to push their way through the crowd when Natalia felt Ellie take her hand. “Hurry, those people are getting up,” she said, dragging Natalia behind her.
No sooner had they hopped up on their barstools than a young waiter appeared.
“What can I get you ladies this evening?”
“Hi,” said Natalia. “I would love a glass of wa—” She sat completely still, staring past the waiter.
“We’ll have three glasses of Merlot, please,” Christine chimed in. “Could you bring my friend some water? She isn’t feeling well.”
“Sure,” the young man said and left.
“Nat, what are you looking at?” Christine asked.
“The man over there making drinks,” she said, pointing to the side of the bar.
“Looking? Ogling is more like it,” scoffed Ellie. “She’s practically drooling.”
“I know him from somewhere,” Natalia said.
“His back is to us. You can’t see his face.”
“I don’t need to see his face.”
Having no logical answers to give them, Natalia ignored the rest of her friend’s questions and continued to watch the fascinating man behind the bar. He was tall with broad shoulders and dark curly hair. His sleeves were rolled up, his strong arms and hands visible. He was good at his job. Quickly dipping his hand in the ice and dropping the cubes into the glasses, he had three drinks made in a just few moments.
Then something changed.
Monday, 11 July 2011
Blood Fest Chasing Destiny by Pepper O'Neal
Blood Fest Chasing Destiny by Pepper O'Neal
Blurb:
She didn’t know what she was—or that what she was could get her killed...
A struggling private detective in Los Angeles, Chase Alcott has no idea about her unique genetic makeup. So when she takes on a new client—an old man with ulterior motives—she’s unaware of the danger she’ll soon face. Traveling to England to solve a mysterious murder at the request of her new client, Chase encounters terrifying creatures she thought only existed in her nightmares—only to find out she’s one of them. Caught in a web of evil and deception after learning some terrifying truths about her long dead parents, Chase doesn’t know who to believe. Does she dare trust the enigmatic Roman, a man with dark secrets of his own?
Radlett, England
April 15th:
Rain dripped down the back of Roman’s neck and trailed along his spine like cold, wet fingers. Forcing himself to ignore the disturbing sensations, he focused instead on the preacher’s droning voice and the coffin being lowered into Melinda’s grave.
“This wasn’t an accident, Andy,” he whispered to his solicitor. “I tried to tell Chief Inspector Clayton that, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Stepping closer to Roman, Andrew Wright shifted his umbrella to shelter the both of them. “Have you considered going to his superiors?”
“Yes. But I doubt it would do any good. They’d be as stumped by the lack of motive as Clayton.”
The parish priest closed the graveside service with a prayer. Finally. Breathing a communal sigh of relief, the two dozen mourners headed out of the dismal little cemetery.
Roman slowed his pace until he and Andy fell behind the others. “I’m also afraid this may have been done by one of my kind.”
Andy stopped walking and stared at him. “A Lycan or a Vampire?”
“Vampire.”
“If that were true, wouldn’t there be marks on her—” Breaking off when Roman made shushing gestures, Andy shot a quick, darting glance around the graveyard. “Sorry,” he said in a lowered voice. “But wouldn’t there be some evidence of that?”
“Only if the killer was feeding.”
“Oh. Right. Would you like me to hire a private investigator for you? There must be someone we can trust to look into this.”
“Not until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” Roman started walking again. “Besides, my father will be home soon. And I’d like to discuss the matter with him first.”
“Er, ah—” Andy cleared his throat. “Lord Fernwood’s stay across the pond has been extended. He was involved in a motor vehicle accident yesterday.”
“Oh, Christ!” Roman cringed at the images flooding his mind. “Not him, too.”
“Re—relax. He’s not bad—not seriously injured, I mean.” Andy’s words rushed out, tumbling over one another. “I—I’m sorry. I should have told you that first. He has a broken leg, two broken ribs, and a fair-sized collection of bruises. But that’s all.”
“Thank God.” Overwhelmed by relief, Roman stumbled on legs that didn’t feel attached to his body. He grabbed Andy’s shoulder to steady himself. “How did it happen?”
“From what he told me when he called from the hospital, he was crossing a street in Los Angeles—apparently against the light and in the middle of the road—when he was hit by a car.”
Roman sighed. “That sounds like Father.” Then the implication of Andy’s words hit him. “Wait a minute. Father’s supposed to be in New York. What the hell’s he doing in Los Angeles?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” Andy paused as they neared Roman’s Rolls Royce. He waited until they were seated inside the limo before continuing. “All I know is what he told me on the phone. He said he’d postponed his meeting in New York and had gone to California to check out something. Or someone. It wasn’t the best connection, so I’m really not sure.”
Roman rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, knowing him, whatever it is, it’s bound to make my life more complicated.”
A chill skittered through him—one that had nothing to do with the weather.
Friday, 8 July 2011
My Killer, My Love by Mona Karel
She came to the woods to heal and found evil lurking among the trees....
Upon her grandmother’s death, Kendra inherits a cottage deep within the sequoia forest, along with the powers given only to certain women in her family—powers she doesn’t know she has. Recovering from a vicious attack in Phoenix, Kendra returns home to the remote cabin determined to heal both her body and her spirit. But the forest is ailing, too. Evil lurks in its dark places, turning its quiet glades into a battlefield. When a strangely beautiful man appears at her cabin intent on punishing her for a crime she didn’t commit, Kendra needs all her strength to protect her forest, her life... and her heart. Can she learn to use her powers and to trust Mykhael in time to save the ancient forest?
He came to the woods to redeem himself and found innocence that would be his undoing....
Throughout his long life, Mykhael has struggled, often in vain, to please the Atrahasis, immortal overlords of the sacred places in the universe. Now they have given him one last chance to redeem himself. He must punish the person they think desecrated an ancient forest in Northern California. But when he meets Kendra, he realizes he’s doomed to disappoint them yet again. Not only is she innocent of the crime the Atrahasis have accused her of, Kendra is the missing part of the soul he didn’t know he still possessed. Can he defy the Atrahasis yet again and live long enough to save the only thing in his life that matters?
EXCERPT:
“Alastor..." she mused, searching for an elusive nugget of information. Then the book opened in her mind’s eye, and the answer appeared. "It was the duty of Alastor to ensure that the sins of the father were visited upon the son."
“Not precisely. It is the duty of the clan of Alastor to ensure that the sanctity of the places and balance of power is maintained at all times. When violations occur, a member of my clan is called, and we are given an image of the person responsible for the violation."
His eyes were even more remote, with that far away, almost sad, look she’d seen so many times before. A chilling premonition came to her and she lifted her chin, seeking the strength to ask the next question.
“Quit the games, Mykhael. Why exactly are you here now, in this place, at this time?"
He looked at her directly, and she saw the agony he had to be feeling.
“Darling, I’ve been sent here to kill you."
Thursday, 30 June 2011
The Blighted Troth by Mirella Patzer
Blurb: A compelling story of love and treachery, faith and loss, forgiveness and triumph in the turbulent world of 18th century New France. In 1702, Emilie Basseaux lives with her widowed mother in New France. On the eve of her wedding to Robert Lanzille, she catches the eye of the settlement’s unscrupulous overlord, Seigneur Richard Tonnacour who threatens to kill the parish priest if he performs their marriage. This sets off a catastrophic chain of events that turns her life, and that of her betrothed, into a desperate flight for their lives, separating them, and sending them straight into the arms of peril. Emilie and Robert’s plight sweeps them into the convents and taverns, the riots and small-pox epidemics of New France where they face death and discover the true meaning of love and forgiveness. The Blighted Troth is a retelling of the classic novel, The Betrothed (I Promessi Sposi) by Alessandro Manzoni. Inspired by this epic Italian classic novel; a new and captivating tale in a new setting, a new century, and with new plot twists while remaining faithful to key story elements.
Saturday, 25 June 2011
What He Taught Her by Anne Whitfield
Blurb:
Rob Healy has everything he wants, or will have once he’s built his new resort on a small island in the Pacific. A woman in his life isn’t planned at the moment, but when he sees Cassandra Kearns in the foyer looking stiff and out of place amongst the holiday makers his interest is spiked. What is a beautiful woman doing wearing a business suit and holding a laptop doing on an island resort, especially when there are no conferences booked that week?
Cassandra Kearns is fleeing New York and all that makes her comfortable for two idyllic weeks in the tropics. She’s stressed, overtired and close to breaking point. Her divorce is finalised, her daughter is grown and she’s realising that she’s on her own and dare she say it - lonely.
She needs to take some time and recharge her batteries. But how is she to do that? She’s worked 24/7 for years. Does she know how to have fun?
When Cassandra meets Rob she rejects the spark of attraction she feels. A man in her life, after the betrayal of Oliver? She’d rather eat broken glass!
Yet Rob is persistent, he’s funny and he’s gorgeous, but what exactly does he want?
Excerpt:
The music changed to a faster tempo and some of the couples got up to dance. Rob got them another bottle of wine and refilled her glass. Cassandra studied him as he secured the bottle back in the sand. Had she ever met such a man as him before? Yes, he was attractive, but he had something else that drew not only her attention, but the stares of other women around him.
There was magnetic quality about Rob, a mixture of a devil-may-care attitude and an inner strength of purpose which fascinated her. Desire grew inside her, igniting, and she felt a delicious heat in the pit of her stomach. It had been so long since she'd throbbed in need for a man’s body.
Reggae thumped out of the speakers. Rob stood and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
“Really?” She stared, as he helped her to her feet. “You dance?”
“Don’t you?” He led her closer to the fire.
“I haven’t for a long time, and the men I know never dance, at least not to this type of music.”
He didn’t answer her as the music was turned up, and the Jamaican rhythm of steel drums and a Caribbean voice urged them to let themselves go.
Fired by the wine, the heat of the fire, and the music filling her senses, Cassandra was transported to another world, one full of sensual stimulus, of earthy primal urges: to eat, to frolic, to cavort. Nature’s way was very powerful, and she didn’t fight against it.
She raised her arms and swung her hips, dancing as she hadn’t done for a very long time. Laughing, Rob twirled her under his arm. The flames reflected off her gold shimmering dress. All the guests were dancing now, the music infectious, the atmosphere festive. Everyone seemed to just want to have fun, forget their problems and dance.
Cassandra squealed as Rob lifted her off her feet and spun her around. He stepped aside, grinning as a guy in his twenties came up to her and did a bit of dirty dancing with her, grinding his pelvis against hers, and she threw her head back and laughed. She felt young and completely alive. Within moments, he’d gone on to another woman, a young twenty something wearing hardly anything at all. The people around her were happy, and it had been forever since she'd felt this way.
The music changed to Salsa, and Rob took her in his arms and pulled her against him. Sexual need lit his blue eyes. He hungered for her. Her skin heated, longing for his touch.
Her smile melted away as the length of his body moved as one with hers, their steps not perfect, but instinctive, powerful. His shoulders muscles bunched beneath her hands. She ran her fingers down his back, and he tightened his hold even further.
They were locked in a dance as sexy and sensual as actually making love. Rob’s eyes never left hers, his mouth only inches from her touch. His hands cupped her hips, guiding them against his own. She shimmied, turned and, with her back to him, danced in a way she’d never done before. Every provocative movement was a gesture of intimacy, of want, of promise. Through music, their bodies touched, sending silent messages to one another. Rob flipped her around to face him again and slipped his thigh between hers. His hands slid down over her bottom, and she gasped at the ache throbbing inside her.
The music changed again, back to a pumping beat. Rob slowly released her, and she regained some of her sense and took a step back. Shocked at her wanton behaviour, her smile was perfunctory.
God, she hoped she hadn’t humiliated herself. She desperately wanted to sit down. What had gotten into her? She turned away from the bonfire and wandered away from the other dancers. Rob kept pace with her.
“Would you like to go for a walk up the beach?”
“No!” She jumped at the harshness of her refusal. “I mean no, sorry, thank you. I think it is time I went back to the beach house.” She gathered up her purse and shoes from the blanket, refusing to make eye contact.
“Cassie...”
“Please, Rob. I must go. Thank you for tonight. I had a great time.” She flashed him a tortured look, silently begging him not to say or do anything else. “Good night.”
As fast as she could run in the soft sand, she left the beach and headed up to the steps to the path. “What a mess,” she cried. Not bothering to put her heels back on, she ran along the shadowy path, away from Rob—wishing she could run away from the feeling he brought out in her, too.
Order ebook from MuseIt Up Publishing
Monday, 20 June 2011
The Breadwinners by Jan Hurst-Nicholson
THE BREADWINNERS
By
Jan Hurst-Nicholson
When an ambitious young immigrant opens a bakery incompetition with his vengeful former employer it is the beginning of a bitterrivalry that spans three generations of hatred, jealousy, passion and betrayalas the bakeries grow from small family businesses into large corporations.
It is New Year’s Eve 1924 and the fiery and volatileCharles McGill is devastated when Addy Brody, the woman he loves, announces herengagement to Lucas Connelly, his friend and co-worker. Charles drownshis sorrow in drink and seduces Hilde Richter, the unattractive daughter of awealthy Durban businessman. When Hilde finds she is pregnant her father offersto set up the penniless Charles with his own bakery if he will marry her.Charles readily agrees and, unknown to Hilde, the two men draw up a contract.It is the beginning of a battle for supremacy between Charles, Lucas, and MilesDavenport, their former employer.
As the bakeries grow and prosper, acrimony begins within thefamilies, pitting brother against brother, and Charles becomes increasinglydissatisfied, realising that success means nothing if he cannot have the womanhe loves.
The story covers a period of sixty years and leads usthrough the fortunes, joys and sorrows, successes and failures of the threefamilies as they survive the great depression, the war years and the isolationof South Africa.
At 118, 000 words, THE BREADWINNERS is an epic family sagathat explores the adage, ‘from clogs to clogs in threegenerations’. It is based on the baking industry where the author workedfor several years, and gives revealing insights into the growth of Durban andthe baking industry. It will appeal to readers who enjoy historical fiction setin exotic locations, and those who read authors such as Barbara TaylorBradford, Catherine Gaskin and Belva Plain.
The Breadwinners kindle. Amazon.com http://amzn.to/9JK0zo $0.99
The Breadwinners kindle. AmazonUK http://amzn.to/ahQ2Sk 70p
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Regency Buck Antholgy
REGENCY BUCK ANTHOLOGY
Three novellas
* HOW TO TAME A RAKE
*STIRRING PASSIONS
*LOVE AND WAR
Buy link: http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/books/RegencyBuck.html
Available individually in e-book form
How To Tame A Rake
It was plain to see from the moment Wilhelmina arrived at his country estate that the devastatingly handsome Blake, Viscount Dangerfield, disapproved of most everything about her.
The codicil to his father’s will came as an unpleasant shock to Blake, Viscount Dangerfield. He had no desire to tie himself down at all, let alone to Wilhelmina--a skinny urchin, barely out of the schoolroom, with mousy hair, no bosom, and a hoydenish disposition.
Stirring Passions:
Lord Laurence, Katherine Kilgarth’s childhood companion, has certainly grown up into a stuffy young man! Time was when he would’ve been as intrigued by the strange going’s on at Broughton Hall as she was, but she had no intention, whatever he said, of simply ignoring the intriguing mystery.
Love And War:
She couldn’t accuse him of paying her Spanish coin! Gyles Devereux made it clear he had no wish to marry at all but was constrained by his circumstances. She could not be expected to keep refusing Lord Devereux, she thought crossly. She was only flesh and blood after all. What woman on earth could resist the pleas of a man such as Devereux?
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Trencarrow Secret by Anita Davison
Trencarrow Secret by Anita Davison
Isabel Hart is afraid of two things, the maze at Trencarrow where she got lost as a young child, and the lake where her brother David saved her from drowning in a boating accident.
With her twenty-first birthday and the announcement of her engagement imminent, Isabel decides it is time for her to face her demons and ventures into the maze. There she sees something which will alter her perceptions of herself and her family forever.
Isabel’s widowed aunt joins the house party, where her cousin confides she is in love with an enigmatic young man who surely cannot be what he pretends, for he is too dashing for homely Laura.
When Henry, Viscount Strachan and his mother arrives, ostensibly to use her ball as an arena for finding a wife, Isabel is determined not to like him.
As more secrets are revealed, Isabel doubts she has chosen the right man, although her future fiancé has more vested in this marriage than Isabel realizes and has no intention of letting her go easily.
Will Isabel be able to put her preconceptions of marriage behind her and take charge of her own life, or is she destined to be controlled by others forever?
Order from MuseIt Up Publishing
Read more...
Thursday, 9 June 2011
The House of Women by Anne Whitfield
The House of Women by Anne Whitfield
Blurb
Leeds. 1870. Lonely and brokenhearted, Grace Woodruff fights for her sisters’ rights to happiness while sacrificing any chance for her own.
The eldest of seven daughters, Grace is the core of strength around which the unhappy members of the Woodruff family revolve. As her disenchanted mother withdraws to her rooms, Grace must act as a buffer between her violent, ambitious father and the sisters who depend upon her. Rejected by her first love and facing a spinster’s future, she struggles to hold the broken family together through her father’s infidelity, one sister’s alcoholism, and another’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy by an unsuitable match.
Caring for an illegitimate half-brother affords Grace an escape, though short-lived. Forced home by illness and burdened with dwindling finances, Grace faces fresh anguish –and murder– when her first love returns to wreck havoc in her life. All is not lost, however. In the midst of tragedy, the fires of her heart are rekindled by another. Will the possibility of true love lead Grace to relinquish her responsibilities in the house of women and embrace her own right to happiness?
Excerpt
Grace blinked to clear her frozen mind as her mother and Verity climbed the staircase. If Verity was here then was William here too? Movement at the door caused Grace to close her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to open them and see the one man she’d longed for since she was sixteen.
‘Miss Woodruff?’ Doyle inquired at her shoulder.
Startled, she spun to face him, but she was blind to him, blind to everything but the sensation of having William here. Crazily, she wondered if she would swoon like a maiden aunt.
Doyle’s hand reached out, but he quickly tucked it behind his back. ‘What is it, Miss Woodruff?’
Grace swallowed, feeling the fine hairs on her arms and nape prickle. He is here.
‘Good evening, Grace.’
At the sound of William’s deep velvety voice, her heart stopped beating, only to start again at a rapid pace. Her stomach clenched and her legs felt unable to support her anymore. Slowly, she swivelled to gaze into William’s blue-green eyes and knew she was lost again. William smiled his captivating smile. He had aged, no, matured since their last meeting. He looked leaner, but broader in the shoulders. There was an aura about him, something that females of any age wanted. He made all other men around him seem insignificant. A magnetism, a mystical air surrounded him, catching Grace in its clutches once more.
Order The House of Women from Amazon.com, or The Book Depository, which has free postage.
For more information about Anne Whitfield, please visit her website.
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Shadows by Jen Black
Shadows by Jen Black
Genre: Contemporary romance with ghostsBlurb:
Melissa thinks she’s taking a huge risk in going on holiday with Rory Hepburn. He may be gorgeous, but she only met him three days ago. But when she sees the old watermill in rural France, she is delighted. Within ten minutes of her arrival, she sees the man in black, but thinks nothing of it. Concentrating more on keeping her secrets and sleeping alone, she is shocked when ghosts disturb her first night at the mill. Not just one ghost, but two. When Christope arrives at the mill, the chic Frenchman regards Melissa as his soul mate, and Melissa knows she’s in real trouble.
A chilling tale, written with humour and drenched in the sights and perfumes of the rural Dordogne, this is a must-read tale for those who like a romance with a ghostly twist.
Amazon UK link:http://www.amazon.co.uk/Shadows-ebook/dp/B0052O4CZ8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1306610637&sr=1-1Released 24th May 2011 by Sapphire Blue:
http://www.sapphirebluepublishing.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=118&osCsid=a20ceebd00e8092d01a8a771526ddf5b
This Jen’s fifth published book, and her first contemporary tale. In many ways writing about character in this century is easier than writing about people in the sixteenth or eleventh centuries. Things like brand names, distances, food and fashion are more important for today’s readers because a contemporary hairstyle speaks volumes about a character’s personality now, but much less so in the previous centuries.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Get er Done by Michael Martel
There's just too much to do!!!
There is a lot to do. There is a lot to do at home or at work. Sometimes it just feels overwhelming. Don't you wish you could be more productive?
The Special Forces Green Berets are known as masters at getting things done. By normal standards, some of their missions would be deemed impossible. Often times they are expected to operate far behind enemy lines with limited resources. Their training gives them principles and techniques in being extremely effective and doing more with less. By using some of their principles you will be able to:
● Plan and use your time more effectively
● Increase your confidence
● Reduce distractions
● Train for success
● Improve commitment
● and much more
Michael Martel uses his real experiences as a Green Beret to illustrate how you can use these techniques in your life to “get er done.” It is a great, interesting read that will make you much more effective in your daily activities.
http://mikemartel.com/get-er-done/
There is a lot to do. There is a lot to do at home or at work. Sometimes it just feels overwhelming. Don't you wish you could be more productive?
The Special Forces Green Berets are known as masters at getting things done. By normal standards, some of their missions would be deemed impossible. Often times they are expected to operate far behind enemy lines with limited resources. Their training gives them principles and techniques in being extremely effective and doing more with less. By using some of their principles you will be able to:
● Plan and use your time more effectively
● Increase your confidence
● Reduce distractions
● Train for success
● Improve commitment
● and much more
Michael Martel uses his real experiences as a Green Beret to illustrate how you can use these techniques in your life to “get er done.” It is a great, interesting read that will make you much more effective in your daily activities.
http://mikemartel.com/get-er-done/
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Better Than 8 by Erin Jamison
Better Than 8 by Erin Jamison
blurb
Amara Simmons has always fantasized about having two lovers but believes it is just that: a fantasy. She likes her men “gifted”, if you know what I mean. At the suggestion of a friend she registers for an online dating website for well-endowed men called betterthan8.com. She believes nothing will come of her site membership but after months of flirting online via email and instant messaging, she’s shocked to discover that she’s fallen for a gorgeous Latin man that has the potential to be her everything – except he never calls and she has no idea why. Nursing a broken heart she is totally unprepared to meet her would-be Latin lover in person much less at the negotiation table of a multi million-dollar real estate deal. In Puerto Rico, passion ignites. Promises are finally fulfilled and the lines of reality blur when her fantasy finally blooms to life. Can Amara have it all: the deal, the man, and the fantasy?
Saturday, 14 May 2011
Nettie Parker’s Backyard by CV Smith
Nettie Parker’s Backyard by CV Smith
Of all the citizens in Greengrow I like to think that I know Mrs. Nettie Whitman Parker best. After all, I practically live right next door to her and for the past two years she's been helping me read and write better. Just recently, Aunt Nettie has started tutoring me three times a week in other subjects like beginning algebra and French. I'd much rather speak Gullah with her which is one of her African ancestors' languages. But you can't get school credit for that so we just speak it when we don't want anyone else to know what we're talking about. At the end of each tutoring lesson Aunt Nettie always says, “Halley iz smaat gal an troot ma-wt, haa'kee!” In Gullah that means, “Halley is a smart girl and a truthful person, so listen to her!”
Everybody who knows Aunt Nettie loves and respects her. I think she's the most wonderful and interesting person I've ever met. She's even a war hero and loves talking about her life as a nurse in London during World War II. Some of my favorite stories are the ones she tells about her African ancestors, and how they were kidnapped from an area called the Rice Coast and made into slaves hundreds of years ago.
Now, you'd think someone who's lived a life as full as she has and is in their nineties might have to slow down a little, but not Aunt Nettie! In fact, after Jonas, her husband, died last summer it seemed to me that she got busier than ever. I guess it was her way of trying to fill up the hole that Jonas had left in her life. We were all pretty worried about her when he passed away; she loved Jonas so much and for a long time she just wasn’t herself. Little by little, I think Aunt Nettie’s getting better but I’m not sure she’ll ever really be herself again. She’s trying hard, and every week she visits sick people in the hospital and helps others learn to read at the library. When the weather's good she's usually outside puttering in her garden, and when it isn't she always finds some project indoors to keep herself busy. Aunt Nettie’s home is open to everyone and neighborhood kids often stop by to say "hello". She loves writing letters and considering all the friends and family she has, that could be a full-time job by itself. Don't be fooled into thinking that because she's in a wheelchair she takes her sweet time getting around, either. She’ll whiz down the sidewalks of Greengrow almost daily greeting everybody she passes along the way.
Although Nettie and Jonas were married a long time and loved children, they never could have any of their own. That's why she insists all the kids in town call her "Aunt" Nettie. To her, all children are her children. It doesn't matter what race or religion they are or if they have physical challenges like she has. Tall or short, boy or girl, every child is special to her.
Oh, no! I didn't think it was this late! I'm supposed to be at her house right now for my tutoring lesson. Why don't you meet me there? Aunt Nettie won't mind and she always makes plenty of lemonade and cookies. Come on! I'll race you over there!
"Yes, Halley, I'm here, I'm coming,” Aunt Nettie called as she pushed the screen door open for me.
"What's that statue doing over there in the corner of the porch?" I asked as I went into the house.
"What statue? Where?" asked Aunt Nettie.
"Over there!" I said as I pointed around to the left. "See it? It's just behind the swing," I added. Aunt Nettie wheeled herself through the open screen door onto the wooden porch. Looking in the direction I had pointed Aunt Nettie could just make out the top of a light-gray stone figure. She wheeled herself closer to get a better look. And since I wanted a better look, too, I followed right behind her.
"Why, it's a sculpture of a young boy," said Aunt Nettie. "He looks like he's about your age, don't you think, Halley? He seems awfully content just sitting there, reading his book with both legs stretched out in front of him. I wonder what he's reading that he's enjoying so much," Aunt Nettie said.
"Sure, I guess he looks about twelve years old…maybe even thirteen. Why is he here on your front porch?" I asked.
"I have no idea, Halley. I didn't buy it. There's no card on it so I doubt anyone sent it to me as a gift. The only store around here that sells anything like this is Mr. Peterson's garden shop. Hmmm…this is strange, all right. Well, let's get you some lemonade and cookies and start your lesson. It's probably just been delivered to the wrong address. Bob Peterson and I are old friends. I'll call him when we're finished and ask him if he knows anything about it."
But later when Aunt Nettie called Mr. Peterson about the statue he didn't know anything about it, either.
"The only thing I can think of is that my new driver delivered it to you by mistake," said Mr. Peterson. "A statue of a boy was supposed to be delivered to someone who lives way on the other side of town. He must have gotten confused because both your street names and numbers are similar. I'm sorry for the mix-up, Nettie. Say, I'm going to be in your neighborhood tomorrow on business. Is it okay if I come by and pick it up then?"
"That'll be fine, Bob," said Aunt Nettie. "It's not that it isn't a nice statue but I know somebody will be missing it soon."
"Of course, Nettie. Sorry for any trouble this caused you," Mr. Peterson said as he ended the call.
"No trouble at all, Bob. See you tomorrow," replied Aunt Nettie.
When Mr. Peterson came by the next day to pick up the statue all he could do was rub his whiskered chin and look very puzzled.
"This isn't my statue, Nettie. I've been examining it and what's even more surprising is that it has no markings on it at all. You see, these types of statues come from a mold. Even though statues can be made by the thousands each one has certain letters and numbers stamped into it. Those letters and numbers match up with production lists, styles, manufacturers and so on. But this one has no markings of any kind! I have no idea at all who made it or where it came from."
"How can that be?" Aunt Nettie questioned. "If somebody had sent it to me as a gift they would have included a card with their name on it. Otherwise, how would I know who it came from?"
"Nettie, this statue is much bigger than the one I thought had been delivered by mistake and I didn't drive my truck today. If you leave it on the front porch somebody might try to take it or it could get damaged. Let me use your wheelbarrow and move it around to the backyard for the time being. I'll do some checking to see who might have made or sold it. Until then let's just leave it in your flower garden, all right?" Mr. Peterson asked.
"All right, Bob, but please try to find out who it belongs to," said Aunt Nettie.
"I promise I will. Now, don't worry about it…enjoy it for a while!" called Mr. Peterson as he went to get the wheelbarrow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Several weeks went by but Mr. Peterson still couldn't find out anything about the statue. He had no idea who had bought it, where it belonged or where it came from. He knew Aunt Nettie liked it and began thinking that maybe she should just keep it. But when a second statue appeared in the backyard next to the first one Aunt Nettie got really upset! She called Mr. Peterson right away:
"…yes, Bob, I just saw the second statue this afternoon when I went out to water my tomatoes. No, I'm sure it wasn't there this morning or I would have seen it. I know you've done all you could to find out about the first statue. But now that there's a second one I don't think either was delivered by mistake. Somebody is deliberately sending these statues to me--but who, and why? None of it makes any sense at all. If this keeps up I'll have an entire classroom of children out there in no time! What? Oh, the second statue is also of a little boy. He has on an old-fashioned…an old-fashioned…oh, my God!" Aunt Nettie screamed as she dropped the phone on the table. She wheeled herself down the rear ramp and into the backyard faster than I’d ever seen her go before.
"…Nettie?" yelled Bob Peterson into the phone. "Are you all right? Nettie, are you there?..."
Whew! You know, the appearance of these mysterious statues really happens later on in the book. The story actually begins with Aunt Nettie's ancestors in Africa hundreds of years ago. She's going to talk all about them in my history class tomorrow because she's the guest teacher. I'm really excited about it and I hope you'll be there to listen, too!
Book Blurb:
Nettie Parker’s Backyard is a WWII historical-fiction novel for 4th-7th graders. The book tackles important lessons against bullying and intolerance toward race, religion, and the physically challenged. The title character has experienced prejudice as an African-American growing up in the 1920’s American South. Later, while studying nursing in London, a blitzkrieg bombing forces Nettie to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. But Nettie Parker is strong and never gives up. The values of dedication, commitment, and love come across clearly to the reader as she cares for eight Jewish refugee children. Nettie has inherited some special gifts, one of them supernatural signs which always lead her in the right direction toward helping others. To keep the audience captivated, the story’s values and ethics are woven into the plot with ribbons of mystery and mysticism. When statues suddenly begin appearing in Nettie’s backyard, she is driven to find the reason why, and in the process discovers that love truly is the greatest force of all in a surprise, twist ending.
Excerpt (Introduction):
I'll never forget the first time the statues started appearing in Aunt Nettie's backyard, and I don't think anyone else in town will ever forget, either. In a small place like Greengrow, South Carolina, everybody knows Aunt Nettie and how special she is. But nobody, not even Nettie Parker herself, realized how powerful her gift really was.Of all the citizens in Greengrow I like to think that I know Mrs. Nettie Whitman Parker best. After all, I practically live right next door to her and for the past two years she's been helping me read and write better. Just recently, Aunt Nettie has started tutoring me three times a week in other subjects like beginning algebra and French. I'd much rather speak Gullah with her which is one of her African ancestors' languages. But you can't get school credit for that so we just speak it when we don't want anyone else to know what we're talking about. At the end of each tutoring lesson Aunt Nettie always says, “Halley iz smaat gal an troot ma-wt, haa'kee!” In Gullah that means, “Halley is a smart girl and a truthful person, so listen to her!”
Everybody who knows Aunt Nettie loves and respects her. I think she's the most wonderful and interesting person I've ever met. She's even a war hero and loves talking about her life as a nurse in London during World War II. Some of my favorite stories are the ones she tells about her African ancestors, and how they were kidnapped from an area called the Rice Coast and made into slaves hundreds of years ago.
Now, you'd think someone who's lived a life as full as she has and is in their nineties might have to slow down a little, but not Aunt Nettie! In fact, after Jonas, her husband, died last summer it seemed to me that she got busier than ever. I guess it was her way of trying to fill up the hole that Jonas had left in her life. We were all pretty worried about her when he passed away; she loved Jonas so much and for a long time she just wasn’t herself. Little by little, I think Aunt Nettie’s getting better but I’m not sure she’ll ever really be herself again. She’s trying hard, and every week she visits sick people in the hospital and helps others learn to read at the library. When the weather's good she's usually outside puttering in her garden, and when it isn't she always finds some project indoors to keep herself busy. Aunt Nettie’s home is open to everyone and neighborhood kids often stop by to say "hello". She loves writing letters and considering all the friends and family she has, that could be a full-time job by itself. Don't be fooled into thinking that because she's in a wheelchair she takes her sweet time getting around, either. She’ll whiz down the sidewalks of Greengrow almost daily greeting everybody she passes along the way.
Although Nettie and Jonas were married a long time and loved children, they never could have any of their own. That's why she insists all the kids in town call her "Aunt" Nettie. To her, all children are her children. It doesn't matter what race or religion they are or if they have physical challenges like she has. Tall or short, boy or girl, every child is special to her.
Oh, no! I didn't think it was this late! I'm supposed to be at her house right now for my tutoring lesson. Why don't you meet me there? Aunt Nettie won't mind and she always makes plenty of lemonade and cookies. Come on! I'll race you over there!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Aunt Nettie!" I called through the screen door out of breath. "Are you home? I came so you can help me with my history today.""Yes, Halley, I'm here, I'm coming,” Aunt Nettie called as she pushed the screen door open for me.
"What's that statue doing over there in the corner of the porch?" I asked as I went into the house.
"What statue? Where?" asked Aunt Nettie.
"Over there!" I said as I pointed around to the left. "See it? It's just behind the swing," I added. Aunt Nettie wheeled herself through the open screen door onto the wooden porch. Looking in the direction I had pointed Aunt Nettie could just make out the top of a light-gray stone figure. She wheeled herself closer to get a better look. And since I wanted a better look, too, I followed right behind her.
"Why, it's a sculpture of a young boy," said Aunt Nettie. "He looks like he's about your age, don't you think, Halley? He seems awfully content just sitting there, reading his book with both legs stretched out in front of him. I wonder what he's reading that he's enjoying so much," Aunt Nettie said.
"Sure, I guess he looks about twelve years old…maybe even thirteen. Why is he here on your front porch?" I asked.
"I have no idea, Halley. I didn't buy it. There's no card on it so I doubt anyone sent it to me as a gift. The only store around here that sells anything like this is Mr. Peterson's garden shop. Hmmm…this is strange, all right. Well, let's get you some lemonade and cookies and start your lesson. It's probably just been delivered to the wrong address. Bob Peterson and I are old friends. I'll call him when we're finished and ask him if he knows anything about it."
But later when Aunt Nettie called Mr. Peterson about the statue he didn't know anything about it, either.
"The only thing I can think of is that my new driver delivered it to you by mistake," said Mr. Peterson. "A statue of a boy was supposed to be delivered to someone who lives way on the other side of town. He must have gotten confused because both your street names and numbers are similar. I'm sorry for the mix-up, Nettie. Say, I'm going to be in your neighborhood tomorrow on business. Is it okay if I come by and pick it up then?"
"That'll be fine, Bob," said Aunt Nettie. "It's not that it isn't a nice statue but I know somebody will be missing it soon."
"Of course, Nettie. Sorry for any trouble this caused you," Mr. Peterson said as he ended the call.
"No trouble at all, Bob. See you tomorrow," replied Aunt Nettie.
When Mr. Peterson came by the next day to pick up the statue all he could do was rub his whiskered chin and look very puzzled.
"This isn't my statue, Nettie. I've been examining it and what's even more surprising is that it has no markings on it at all. You see, these types of statues come from a mold. Even though statues can be made by the thousands each one has certain letters and numbers stamped into it. Those letters and numbers match up with production lists, styles, manufacturers and so on. But this one has no markings of any kind! I have no idea at all who made it or where it came from."
"How can that be?" Aunt Nettie questioned. "If somebody had sent it to me as a gift they would have included a card with their name on it. Otherwise, how would I know who it came from?"
"Nettie, this statue is much bigger than the one I thought had been delivered by mistake and I didn't drive my truck today. If you leave it on the front porch somebody might try to take it or it could get damaged. Let me use your wheelbarrow and move it around to the backyard for the time being. I'll do some checking to see who might have made or sold it. Until then let's just leave it in your flower garden, all right?" Mr. Peterson asked.
"All right, Bob, but please try to find out who it belongs to," said Aunt Nettie.
"I promise I will. Now, don't worry about it…enjoy it for a while!" called Mr. Peterson as he went to get the wheelbarrow.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Several weeks went by but Mr. Peterson still couldn't find out anything about the statue. He had no idea who had bought it, where it belonged or where it came from. He knew Aunt Nettie liked it and began thinking that maybe she should just keep it. But when a second statue appeared in the backyard next to the first one Aunt Nettie got really upset! She called Mr. Peterson right away:
"…yes, Bob, I just saw the second statue this afternoon when I went out to water my tomatoes. No, I'm sure it wasn't there this morning or I would have seen it. I know you've done all you could to find out about the first statue. But now that there's a second one I don't think either was delivered by mistake. Somebody is deliberately sending these statues to me--but who, and why? None of it makes any sense at all. If this keeps up I'll have an entire classroom of children out there in no time! What? Oh, the second statue is also of a little boy. He has on an old-fashioned…an old-fashioned…oh, my God!" Aunt Nettie screamed as she dropped the phone on the table. She wheeled herself down the rear ramp and into the backyard faster than I’d ever seen her go before.
"…Nettie?" yelled Bob Peterson into the phone. "Are you all right? Nettie, are you there?..."
Whew! You know, the appearance of these mysterious statues really happens later on in the book. The story actually begins with Aunt Nettie's ancestors in Africa hundreds of years ago. She's going to talk all about them in my history class tomorrow because she's the guest teacher. I'm really excited about it and I hope you'll be there to listen, too!
Available as an eBook on both Amazon Kindle and B&N Nook
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