The Casquette Girls by Alys Arden Published November 17th, 2015 Published by Skyscape Genre: YA Paranormal/Fantasy Goodreads Website Amazon Find out more about signed copies HERE! Seven girls tied by time. Five powers that bind. One curse to lock the horror away. One attic to keep the monsters at bay. ** After the storm of the century rips apart New Orleans, sixteen-year-old Adele Le Moyne wants nothing more than her now silent city to return to normal. But with home resembling a war zone, a parish-wide curfew, and mysterious new faces lurking in the abandoned French Quarter, normalneeds a new definition. As the city murder rate soars, Adele finds herself tangled in a web of magic that weaves back to her own ancestors. Caught in a hurricane of myths and monsters, who can she trust when everyone has a secret and keeping them can mean life or death? Unless . . . you’re immortal.
“Seven girls tied by time. Five powers that bind. One curse to lock the horror away. One attic to keep the monsters at bay.” –THE CASQUETTE GIRLS by Alys Arden Coming November 17th, 2015 http://amzn.to/1QzbOUX
About the Author
Alys Arden was raised by the street performers, tea leaf-readers, and glittering drag queens of the New Orleans, French Quarter. She cut her teeth on the streets of New York and has worked all around the world since. She either talks too much or not at all. She obsessively documents things. Her hair ranges from eggplant to cotton-candy-colored. One dreary day in London, while dreaming of running away with the circus, she started writing The Casquette Girls. Her debut novel garnered over one million reads online before being acquired by Skyscape in a two book deal. Rep’d by ICM. Website Twitter: @alysarden Facebook Blog
The Excerpt: CHAPTER 1 On the Road October 9th The day had finally come. Elation coursed through my head, my chest, my stomach—until the tips of my fingers tingled, as if the sensation were trying to escape the confines of my nervous system. My father and I were finally on our way home. Trying not to let the anticipation drive me crazy, I leaned back in the passenger seat and took deep breaths, inhaling the scents of worn black leather and bubble gum. The combination reminded me of sitting in the front seat as a child. I’d always been up for a ride in my father’s prized possession because I knew there’d be a sugary pink stick waiting for me in the glove box. The city wasn’t exactly encouraging people to come home yet, but my father had always been a bit of a rebel. This fact, topped with endless nights of me begging and pleading, had finally made those four little words slip out of his mouth: “Okay, let’s go home.” As soon as he caved, I fled the Parisian boarding school where my French mother had dumped me while my father and I were “displaced.” She didn’t tell me good-bye, and I never looked back. I landed in Miami late last night, and we were on the road by six this morning. I didn’t want to give my father the chance to renege. Ten hours later, we were still purring down the interstate in his 1981 BMW. But I didn’t mind the long drive. In my sixteen years, I’d never been away from my father for that long. I’d never been away from New Orleans for that long either. It felt like years since the mandatory evacuation, but in reality it had only been two months—two months, two days, and nine hours since the Storm had touched ground. The Storm was the largest hurricane in US history. Scientists were still debating whether it should even be considered a hurricane because it had smashed all previous classification parameters. They didn’t even name it. Everyone simply referred to it as “the Storm.” Economists were predicting it would end up being the greatest natural disaster in the Western world, and there were even rumors flying around that the federal government was considering constituting the area uninhabitable and not rebuilding the city. That idea was incomprehensible to me. The media was all over the place about the devastation. We’d heard such conflicting stories there was really no telling what would be awaiting us (or not awaiting us) upon our arrival. Had our home been damaged, flooded, ransacked, robbed—or any combination of those things? Was it now just rotting away? I fiddled with the sun-shaped charm hanging from the silver necklace that nearly reached my waist, wrapping and unwrapping the thin chain around my fingers. My phone buzzed. Brooke 3:42 p.m. Are you close? Text me as soon as you get home. I want to know everything, ASAP! xoxo. I quickly pecked, Adele 3:43 p.m. I will! How’s La-La land? <3 I didn’t exactly have a laundry list of close friends, but Brooke Jones and I had been attached at the hip since the second grade. The Joneses had been stuck in Los Angeles since the evacuation, and Brooke was freaking out on a daily basis because her parents were adjusting to the West Coast lifestyle at an alarming rate. Even the thought that her parents might permanently relocate to California made me cringe. “Waffle House?” my father asked as we sped past the Florida state line into Alabama. He proceeded down the exit ramp before I could respond. A bell dinged when I opened the door of the infamous southern chain, causing all of the employees to shout a welcome without looking up from what they were doing. My father headed to the bathroom, and I jumped into a booth, grabbing a napkin to wipe pancake-syrup residue off the table. “I’ll be with ya in a second, darlin’,” a waitress yelled from across the narrow, shoe box–shaped diner. Johnny Cash blared on the jukebox, the air reeked of grease, and the fluorescent bulb in the overhead light gave everything a sickly tint. I couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking about the stark contrast of this scene to my life just two nights ago: sitting in a café on the Champs-Élysées, eating a crêpe suzettes with my mother. Well, I’d been eating a crêpe. She’d never allow herself to eat something as appalling as sugar. Midchuckle, I caught the gaze of a guy sitting solo in a booth across the aisle, who was slowly stirring a cup of coffee. Our eyes locked. My cheeks started to burn. I grabbed a menu so I could pretend to focus on something and let my long waves of espresso-colored hair fall in front of my face, trying to recall the last time I’d taken a shower. Ugh. I’d been in transit for more than twenty-four hours at this point. I lifted my eyes to find him still looking intensely at me. He was probably a few years older than me . . . and far too sophisticated to be sitting in this particular establishment among the tall hairdos and flip-flops. His black leather jacket was not the biker kind you might find in any diner in the Deep South—it was softer looking, trendier, possibly custom-made. The jacket, along with his dark, slicked hair, made him appear part James Dean, part Italian Vogue. For a split second I forgot where I was, as if stuck in some kind of Paris–Alabama time-continuum hiccup. When I realized I was staring at him again, I became instantly flustered. His eyes didn’t move, but the corners of his mouth slowly spread upward into an innocent smile. Or maybe it was deceptively innocent? Just as my heart began to speed up at the prospect of finding out, my fork slid across the table, flew halfway across the room, and clanked against his ceramic mug. “Sorry!” I covered my face, mortified, and considered crawling underneath the table. I’d been so caught up in the moment I hadn’t even noticed myself flick it. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll bring ya a new one,” the waitress yelled. As if I was worried about the fork. I’d nearly taken out the eye of the hottest guy within a fifty-mile radius. My heart pounded melodramatically. When I finally mustered the courage to raise my head to catch another glimpse of him, all I saw was his mug on top of a ten-dollar bill. Realizing I’d been hiding my gaze from no one, I became even more embarrassed. Of course he ran. I am obviously hazardous. “You okay?” my father asked as he slid into the orange leather booth. “Yep, the jet lag must have just kicked in,” I blurted out, “but I’m super excited for cheesy eggs.” “I thought you hated American cheese?” he asked suspiciously. “You always called it plastic.” “Yeah, well, I guess something becomes more desirable when you can’t have it.” There were certainly no American-cheese-like products in France. We ordered and then sat in silence while we waited for our food. My father turned his head to stare out the window. I knew he was too nervous to ask me about Paris, and I was not going to readily volunteer up any information. It was weird to spend your entire life with someone, be suddenly separated for two months, and then reunite. It felt strange that it felt strange being together. Luckily the food came quickly, and soon he was polishing off a stack of waffles, while I forced myself to choke down eggs smothered in plastic cheese. “How about I drive for a while?” I asked as we headed back to the car. “How about I drive and you study?” “Why should I study? Technically, I’m not even enrolled in a school right now.” “You are enrolled in a school right now, Adele . . .” I unintentionally slammed the passenger door after getting in. “You are technically still enrolled in Notre-Dame International.” He pulled out of the deserted parking lot and in his best I-am-serious voice added, “And if we get to New Orleans and find out you can’t get into a local school, you’re going to be on the first plane back to Paris. Back to school. That was the deal.” “I am not going back to Paris.” I didn’t care what I had previously agreed to. “Je déteste Notre-Dame International! Je déteste Paris!” I said in my most dramatic French accent, but I stopped myself before I said something about detesting my mother. Those were words he certainly would’ve understood. But he had only himself to blame for my speaking French; he was the one who’d forced me to take private lessons since I was five—a year after my mother had skipped town—as if my ability to speak her native language might bring her back. “I can’t believe you shipped me off there in the first place. I belong here, not with rich kids in boarding school. Not with her.” My eyes began to well up. I knew my reaction would upset him, but even the thought of having to go back to Paris made me want to jump out of the moving car and run away. He didn’t know what to do or say next, and soon the old Bimmer filled up with awkward tension. The slightest sign of teen-girl tears made Macalister Le Moyne uncomfortable. My father always tried his best to be paternal, but it never really seemed natural for him, not even after all this time of it being just the two of us. He patted my hand. “Don’t get upset. You know school comes first.” I’d never once heard him say anything bad about my mother, but I could tell he felt relieved that I’d fight to stay in New Orleans with him instead of returning to her in Paris. He was simultaneously terrified and proud that I’d inherited his rebellious streak rather than her need for refinement. Ever since I could remember, my father lived with a perpetually tired look. He’d inherited the ever-popular bar Le Chat Noir from my grandfather around the same time my mother left us, making him an artist-turned-business-owner and single parent all at once. Since then, he kept mostly nocturnal hours, waking midday to give himself enough time to work on sculptures and furniture in his metal shop before going back to the bar. Now he was unshaven and a bit shaggier than usual, appearing to have aged a few years in the last couple of months, just like all the other displaced citizens of New Orleans. The Storm had been peculiar, not just because of the suddenness with which it had grown but because its target had been so unexpected. The day before it hit, the Storm was a routine Category 2 hurricane—not something to shrug off but something people knew how to handle— predicted to make landfall somewhere around Galveston, Texas. Eighteen hours prior to hitting land, the hurricane unpredictably changed course and headed straight for New Orleans. Trying to clear the city with such short notice caused total mayhem. We ended up evacuating to Miami with a few of Dad’s bartenders, never dreaming we’d be gone for more than a few days. But before the Storm left the Gulf of Mexico, it tipped the Saffir-Simpson scale, and once it hit land, like most folks upon arrival in New Orleans, it didn’t want to leave. We watched in horror as it hovered. And hovered. And hovered. All we could do was stare at the TV and wait for our unwelcome houseguest to take a hint. That was before the levees broke and turned the city into a fishbowl. When reality kicked in and we were suddenly unable to return home for an undetermined period, my father decided I would be better off in Paris with my mother than in Miami with a bunch of vagabonds looking for bar work. I wasn’t sure if he really believed that or if he’d just cracked under post-Storm pressure; either way, he shipped me off to France as soon as he managed to get in touch with her. As far as I knew, that was the first time they’d had contact in the twelve years she’d been gone. I refused to let the tears fall as I looked out the car window. I’m not going back to live with her. I won’t let it happen. New Orleans is my home. Even thinking about going back to Paris made me immediately selfconscious. Up until eight weeks ago, I’d always thought of myself as just a normal teenager—not the head-cheerleader type but not the type to be shoved into lockers either. I did pretty well in school but was certainly not in the running for valedictorian. Besides rebellion, I’d also inherited my father’s artistic tendencies, but (to my curatorial mother’s high-art dismay) I channeled them mostly through designing clothes. Despite all of this, I’d hardly tipped average by Parisian standards. During the last two months, I couldn’t have felt more plain, more uncultured, or more passé. My Parisian classmates were like ballerinas in six-inch heels, born to analyze haute couture and recite Baudelaire, making my skinny jeans and DIY dresses seem childish and unsophisticated. I sighed and attempted to push the French memories out of my consciousness: the sparkling Eiffel Tower, the macarons from Ladurée, and most of all Émile. My stomach twisted. I definitely didn’t want to think about Émile. Not the way his slight smile always made me wonder what he was thinking. Not his Vespa or ’iz stupid, sexy accent. Pathetic, Adele. You didn’t mean anything to him. He’s just your mother’s assistant. The car went over a bump, and I realized trying not to think about Émile was actually making me think about Émile. Ugh. The Giveaway 5 physical copies open US only. a Rafflecopter giveaway The Trailer:
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Heaven Sent
by
Avelyn Paige
Nov 15th -- Nov 18th
Bloodyâ¦brokenâ¦barely survivingâ¦
Danae âDaniâ Espinoza is on the run and desperate to escape the demons of her past. Plans to hide out in a sleepy Los Angeles suburb turn into a pipe dream as she is drawn into the secret filled world of the local motorcycle club. Dani soon learns that her secrets and lies are nothing compared to those kept behind the clubhouse doors. Trying to avoid the suspicious Vice President, she must keep a low profile in order to survive. The trouble is he has other ideas. Bikeâ¦babesâ¦and booze⦠Tyler "Hero" Tobias has simple needs. Being the Heaven's Rejects MC Vice President, he has all three at his disposal. But he has his own ghosts that keep him awake at night. When Dani arrives at the clubhouse, he knows he should stay away but there is something about her dark beauty and the mystery that surrounds her that makes him burn. There are secrets in her eyes and lies in her smile and he knows he should put his club first, but Heroâs heart and loyalty are about to be tested. Can an angel with blood-covered wings and the devil himself resist temptation or will they risk bringing hellfire down on everything that they love?
Cold. All I can feel is a deep chill blanketing my body. My eyes open to complete darkness as a voice calls to me. Its muffled tones send shivers down my spine with every garbled word. A sense of familiarity floats around me as its words become clearer.
âRun, Dani,â it pleas from beyond the black veil shrouding the room. âEscape while you can,â it continues. Panic courses through my veins. Where in the hell am I? Why canât I see anything? The pleas go unanswered as my voice fails to render sound.
âHelp!â I scream internally, âPlease, fucking help me!â
The voiceâs call fades with each word. âYou need to get the hell out of here, Dani. You need to move. Find a wall and escape,â I coach to myself. A cold chill of air sweeps into the darkness encompassing me as I try to feel the place around me. My fingers plunge into a dense, sticky liquid as I crawl forward causing my body to slide with each movement. A hard surface is finally inching its way under my fingers.
Crawling upwards, I splay my hands against the cool wall. âYouâre on your feet, Dani. The hardest part is over now. Time to find a door or a light switch, something to get us out of here,â my internal coach continues.
Keeping close to the wall, I finally find a switch. Flicking it upwards, the light shines brilliantly. As my eyes adjust to the light, my hands come into my vision. A scream barrels out of my throat when I see the sticky, red blood covering my hands and clothes. My heart races as I frantically wipe the blood away. Blood begins to pool at my feet, inching toward me. Rushing away from the blood, I fall backward into a solid, but warm obstacle. Before I can turn around, hands grasp my arms as a personâs hot breath trails down my neck.
âHello, Dani,â a different voice whispers in my ear. âWelcome to Hell. Youâre mine now,â the voice crackles as my body is pulled into black oblivion.
Avelyn Paige is a born and raised Indiana girl. She may be a Hoosier by birth, but sheâs a Boilermaker by choice! Avelyn lives in rural Indiana with her pastor husband, 2 spoiled cats, and one very odd looking dog. Sheâs an oncology research scientist by day and a writer and book review blogger by night. She enjoys reading anything she can get her hands, baking, and spending time with her friends and family.
Never intending to ever write her own book, the idea behind the Damaged series came to her on a drive to work early one morning thinking about her father whoâd recently passed away. His strength during his cancer and rare blood disease battle inspired Avelyn to do something sheâs never thought about before. Sheâs excited to see where this wild ride takes her.
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Title: Mina's Revenge
Series: Woodland Creek
Author: J.M. Witt
Genre: Shifter Romance
Release Date: November 16, 2015
Blurb
Mina Spitz, a lifetime resident of Woodland Creek, has been alone longer than she cares to remember. Her powers are changing and they’re more than the bloodline inheritance from her mother. She has a feeling that the identity of her father has something to do with it. Rollo Frost is new to town. He’s tall, dark, dangerous, and everyone knows it. Relocating his pack to Woodland Creek, he’s determined to put the secrets that haunt him to rest. The problem is he doesn’t know the truth behind those secrets and may never know. Rollo becomes enthralled with Mina, wanting to know her secret, and his pack isn’t happy about it. Mina has the power to destroy everything Rollo’s built, she just doesn’t know it…yet. When life-altering secrets are exposed, their worlds collide in a way they never expected.
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Excerpt
Watching as the ball rolled to the destination I’d predicted, my opponent cursed.
“Shit!” After sinking the eight ball into the corner pocket, I replaced my stick in the holder and walked over to him and held out my hand. I hadn’t gotten his name and hadn’t cared to. He was either new to town or just passing through, not that either mattered to me. He’d taken in my womanly shape and let his ego—and maybe the booze-- get to him. After insulting me, I’d accepted his challenge as some of the regulars looked on, giggling. Some may have classified me as a ‘shark’ but that wasn’t really my problem. He’d seen me as an easy win, and I proved him wrong. I could smell the stink that lingered on him. Permeating the air around me, even the aroma of peanuts and alcohol couldn’t hide his stench. Of course my senses were keen and came in handy now and then. He was a shifter and I guessed a canine of some kind. Tired of waiting, I demanded my money. “Deal’s a deal. Hand it over.” He scoffed and swaggered in drunkenness as he leaned in closer. “You’s a snake.” Leaning back, trying to avoid his nasty breath fanning my face, I spit out. “No, not a snake.” I heard some snickers from the bar, but ignored them. “But I may go rabid on your ass if you don’t hand over my money.” That seemed to get his attention. But just as quick he turned from me and stumbled toward a corner table. I stayed several steps behind as I observed those sitting there. They too were new to town or passing through. I didn’t recognize any of them and I knew everyone in Woodland Creek—at least everyone who mattered. As he took his seat, completely ignoring my presence, my eyes immediately found a pair of green-blue eyes sitting on the other side of the table. I was momentarily drawn into them and blinked, breaking the spell. There was something about him, besides the fact that he was rugged and big. I wondered how tall he was, knowing his height had to be significant. My senses had been off lately so I couldn’t get the read on him that I wanted to. His hair was long and dark and he had it pulled back loosely. His face was covered in a beard that was in desperate need of a trim. A leather coat covered his shoulders as I took in their width. His mouth curled into a smile before he turned back to the woman hanging on his side. Rolling my eyes I turned back to my competitor. Placing my hands on the table, I leaned in and demanded my money once again. “This is the last time I’m going to say it. You lost fair and square.” He snarled at me and the rest of the table grew silent. The ambiance changed and I stood up fully, taking a step back. My eyes met the green-blue ones once again as they shifted to gold. He was a shifter, too. Hell, probably they all were and I knew in that moment that most likely they weren’t just passing through. “Zeke, what d’ya owe the lady?” “She hustled me, I don’t owe her anything.” The same girl from before turned her attention to Zeke as she mumbled, “She ain’t no lady!” She watched me, waiting for a reaction. Scouring my body, she taunted me. “In fact, I bet she works for an hourly wage on the corner.” I had a temper and before I knew it, I was nose to nose with her, leaning across the table spitting out, “You can find out how much of a lady I’m not. Just say one more word.” Green-blue eyes—my name for him—stood and everyone paid attention. He was taller than I imagined and his hair was longer, too. He walked around the table and stood in front of me. Leering down at me, his eyes flashed gold again. When I didn’t flinch, his expression became curious, examining me closely. If he didn’t know what I was, he was a good actor. I was growing uncomfortable, when he suggested, “If I were you, I’d let it go. Zeke here has a bad temper and I’d hate to see him lose that temper on a sweet thing like you.” Ugh. I was utterly disgusted. “I’m no sweet thing. Maybe you should warn Zeke about my temper.” “What’s your name?” He took another step closer as I tilted my neck up to see him. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was wrong… Maybe. “Mine’s Rollo.” He stuck his hand between us and smiled. Groaning, I leaned around him so my eyes could meet Zeke’s. “Keep the money. Maybe use it to get groomed and bathed.” Zeke lurched up, but Rollo, with a smile on his face, put his hand up and Zeke sat right back down, making it evident that Rollo was their leader. Grinning at me he said, “You’ve got balls.” “If you mean bigger than his,” nodding toward Zeke, I confirmed, “Bet your ass I do.” It was a lost cause. Zeke could keep his forty bucks and get bent. I had more important things to deal with. That got Rollo to smile. A chill ran up my spine and I knew I had to go. Turning, I stalked toward the door, grabbing my own leather jacket off my stool at the bar as I walked by. I walked out of Vider’s into the cold night and inhaled deeply, but another scent caught my attention. Turning, Rollo was walking out the door and headed right for me. Marching toward my store, the next one down, I picked up my pace. I didn’t have time for a random hookup, not tonight. “Hey, you didn’t tell me your name.” Shouting over my shoulder, I replied, “I know I didn’t.”
Author Bio
I'm a stay-at-home mom with four young children and one extremely supportive husband. We've been married for over ten years and reside in Metro Detroit, Michigan.
I've dreamed of writing romance novels since I was little. After having baby #4, who may or may not have been fathered by Christian Grey, I decided it was time to pursue my dreams. When I'm not running to various appointments, enjoying time with my friends and my family, dating my husband, or avoiding cleaning my house, I'm writing!
I love music and believe that books and music can't exist without the other. My goal is for you to read more than a good book, but for you to have an experience!
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Title: Slide
Series: Black Addiction #1
Author: T. Gephart
Genre: Rock Star Romance
Release Date: November 16, 2015
Blurb
Touring as an opening act for a huge rock band and landing a record contract means you’ve hit the big time, right? Sadly, neither of those things gave Rusty Crawford, lead guitarist of the band Black Addiction, worldwide fame and fortune. Which was a shame because he had the lifestyle down to a fine art—without the clichéd stint in rehab. Even being back in the Bronx, paying his dues didn’t rattle the charismatic axe man, ladies loved him and men wanted to be him. Fate would just have to catch up. Seemed like fate had more than just a platinum album planned for his future. Alison Williams had the perfect life. Or at least she did until her world came crashing down around her, in the most epic way. With her future no longer a certainty she finds herself out of her comfort zone and into unchartered territory—a place where Rusty Crawford likes to spend most of his time. Will the charming and ridiculously hot rock god help her find her feet, or send her further down the rabbit hole? One thing was for sure; both of them were in for the ride of their lives.
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Excerpt
“Hello, ladies.” His voice purred, sending vibrations through my body.
It was him. My beautiful mystery man. The one who I’d seen plenty but never spoken to. He was standing in front of me, smiling. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been so surprised. There weren’t many bars in our little neighborhood where you didn’t need a Hep C shot before you entered. This particular establishment promised an impressive beer menu without the risk of a communicable disease, so it would stand to reason he would know about it too. “Hi.” Was all I was able to manage, convinced he was probably talking to someone else. Perhaps he meant the Amazonian redhead who was sitting to my left, openly staring—that would make a hell of a lot of more sense. They could probably shoot joint commercials for teeth whitener and make adorable, if not freakishly tall, children together. “I couldn’t help but notice your friend stole your drink. Ordinarily I’d overlook such thievery, but I’d hate for there to be a brawl in my favorite bar. So in the interest of keeping the peace, I’d like to replace it for you.” His voice smooth, as was his delivery. I had to remember to breathe. “She wasn’t going to drink it, but you can totally buy her another drink,” Renee answered before I’d gotten the chance. Her smile widened as she turned to face me and mouthed the words “he’s hot.” She needn’t have bothered; his hotness was not something that needed to be confirmed. “That’s okay, I’m good.” Thankfully words came out of my mouth even if they sounded in no way intelligent. “Well, glad to hear you’re good. Nice to meet you, my name is Rusty.” He smiled as he moved in closer, his hand signaling the bartender. “What were you drinking?” In what I can only explain as temporary insanity—probably from the shock of having the beautiful man talking to me—I blurted out, “I have a boyfriend.” I officially wanted to die. While I did have a boyfriend, and hopefully in a few hours I would be moving into his upscale apartment, there was no reason to announce it so dramatically. Almost as if to prove that I hadn’t secretly fantasized about him while in the shower every day this week—which I had. Sweat prickled at my brow. “Is that some code for you’re not thirsty?” Rusty’s lips curved in amusement. While the words weren’t sexy, the humor in his voice was a definite turn on, a hot button straight to my libido as he stood there grinning at me. “No, I-I just mean I can’t accept . . .” What was the word again? “A drink from you.” Yes, that’s what I wanted to say. “Or . . . or anyone else. N-not just you.” My mouth tried to regain some composure. It really wasn’t doing a great job. “Well, would you look at the time? I have a thing, wouldn’t want to be late.” Renee tapped her naked wrist—her watch missing in action, as was her tact. “Call me, Ali.” She gave me a hug and whispered, “If you don’t screw this guy, you’re dead to me.” And just like that, she evaporated from the room. Awesome. “Your friend always bail on you like that, Ali?” Rusty’s voice curled seductively around my name as he smiled, moving to the barstool Renee had vacated.
“It’s Alison.” Ali was just too personal, like him kissing me on the mouth. I totally would not have been okay with that. Mostly.
Author Bio
T Gephart is an indie author from Melbourne, Australia.
T's approach to life has been somewhat unconventional. Rather than going to University, she jumped on a plane to Los Angeles, USA in search of adventure. While this first trip left her somewhat underwhelmed and largely depleted of funds it fueled her appetite for travel and life experience. With a rather eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history, T struggled to find her niche in the world. While on a subsequent trip the United States in 1999, T met and married her husband. Their whirlwind courtship and interesting impromptu convenience store wedding set the tone for their life together, which is anything but ordinary. They have lived in Louisiana, Guam and Australia and have traveled extensively throughout the US. T has two beautiful young children and one four legged child, Woodley, the wonder dog. An avid reader, T became increasingly frustrated by the lack of strong female characters in the books she was reading. She wanted to read about a woman she could identify with, someone strong, independent and confident and who didn't lack femininity. Out of this need, she decided to pen her first book, A Twist of Fate. T set herself the challenge to write something that was interesting, compelling and yet easy enough to read that was still enjoyable. Pulling from her own past "colorful" experiences and the amazing personalities she has surrounded herself with, she had no shortage of inspiration. With a strong slant on erotic fiction, her core characters are empowered women who don't have to sacrifice their femininity. She enjoyed the process so much that when it was over she couldn't let it go. T loves to travel, laugh and surround herself with colorful characters. This inevitably spills into her writing and makes for an interesting journey - she is well and truly enjoying the ride! Based on her life experiences, T has plenty of material for her books and has a wealth of ideas to keep you all enthralled.
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Andrew is also a blogger at TheWritersRevolution13.blogspot.com where he interviews and promotes other authors in order to assist indie authors get more exposure. Andrew is also a frequent guest on the Anthony Charles Podcast, a show dedicated to creative professionals as they give insight into their works and the lives they lead; guests have included authors, comedians, musicians, stuntmen, actors and producers.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Iamphoenix13
This action packed thrill ride will leave you on the edge of your seat.
The body of Blake Ambrose, one of the best defense attorneys in Dutchess County, has washed up on the shores of the Hudson River. Is this the case that will get her back on her feet?
Or will it end up being her last?
Purchase your copy here: http://www.amazon.com/Scorned-Detective-Ryan-Book-2-ebook/dp/B016L3NMKE/ref
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Official Event Page: https://www.facebook.com/events/852524024860766/ Character Casting
Detective Ali Ryan-she is by far one of the hardest for me to cast. To fill this role, the actress would have to be smart, funny, sexy, a take no nonsense kind of woman. I can thank the show Marvelâs Agentâs of S.H.I.E.L.D. for bringing this actress into the mix this season as well. The woman that would best fit the role for Detective Ali Ryan would be Adrianne Palicki
Officer Rodney Johnson-he is the strong former nightclub bouncer turned cop. His size and demeanor is intimidating, but since meeting the love of his life, getting married and having a kid, Rodney Johnson has shown a more sensitive side as well. Shemar Moore would be a good fit despite not being as tall as I would like. Amanda Ryan-Many would think Amanda Ryan would be a naive college girl thatâs fallen for a bad boy, but thatâs not entirely true. Since moving to New Paltz and having her big sister around, who happens to be a bad ass cop, she is more grounded and wants to know any good dirt on Aliâs cases. A fitting actress for this role would be Emma Roberts. Shawn-Mark L. Young played a great role as Scottie P. in Weâre the Millers and feel he could pull off the role of Shawn much better than anyone I can think of. Matthew-is a man of mystery and passion. The man to fit that role would need to do the same. Someone that has the look that could drive a woman wild and still have you guessing his intentions would be Amin Joseph. Lieutenant Esposito-the hot tempered Lieutenant would be played by Cheech Marin. He is known for his many roles including Cheech and Chong or his time spent co-starring on Nash Bridges as Joe Dominguez. I feel Cheech Marin would be best suited to bring the comedic hot tempered Lieutenant to life. There are only two new characters in this book and 2 new supporting characters. Detective James Thornton- He is one of those guys that give a horrible first impression. He's cocky, arrogant, and convinced he can get anything he wants. But beyond the bad boy image he personifies, he's a man with a heart of gold. When it comes to women, he's trouble with a capital T. Doctor Claire Cain- She's the good girl gone bad. In school, she was the one who always got the highest grades, was valedictorian, and made the Dean's List. She personified success. But after facing the most traumatic moment of her life, she decided being good can only get you so far. Sheila- One of Claire's best friends and works as her personal assistant/secretary. She has a wild party girl personality and always on the hunt for another man. Rebecca- Another one of Claire's best friends. She's more sensible and level headed than Sheila. She works at a law firm in Dutchess County, but knows how to use her feminine wilds and sex appeal to get what she wants. She's very good at manipulating others both in court and in her personal life. â Interview
Reviews
Book 1:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R1ZBHCNWSD9HAR/ref=cm_cr_pr_rvw_ttl?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00PI1OODA Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1443319038?book_show_action=false Book 2: Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/review/R20TB0OK45SC6E/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B016L3NMKE&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=133140011&store=digital-text Hey all,
It's November 23rd is coming in just a 10 days. If anyone has anything they would like me to include in the monthly post (giveaway announcements, sales, interviews, special posts, spotlight, ect.) feel free to message me (look in the 'contact us' section on site to find out where you can reach me). Secondly on the list, On Saturday (as long as my net comes back) I will be updating the blog with multiple posts that I have missed. It is the first thing on my to-do list for that day. Reviews will be posted that. (I have many to post.) Thirdly, there is a contest going on it is located on the Facebook page. http://facebook.com/ImaginativeDreams10 Look at the pinned post. This will need to remain open for another couple of months due to money issues, but it will be closing. Anf finally, be watching the blog and Facebook page for Q&A's every Monday and Friday. Yes, I have finally picked days to do this. Anyways, hope you all have a good up-coming weekend. Feel free to leave your in-put on just about everything. Thank you for supporting Imaginative Dreams and a special thanks to all those awesome hardworking authors out there. ~ A ♡
Torment and Treachery
The Black Rose Chronicles Book Two
by A.K. Michaels
Kuan, the mysterious man who purports to be a Chinese God, is the only person who can help them. Cassius assembles a rescue team and they head to the one place he never thought he’d venture: Hell. Will they reach Rose in time? If they do, will she still be in one piece? Read book 2 in The Black Rose Chronicles to find out. If you like Paranormal Romance full of suspense, action and thrills, mixed with Dystopian, then this unique series by New York Times Bestselling Author, A K Michaels, is for you.
Excerpt
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She cursed as even the smallest movement caused agony so great that she saw black spots before her eyes. “Breathe,” she commanded, as a groan escaped her lips in retaliation at the movement of her broken ribs.
She stifled the moans that were rumbling up her throat, silence and stealth were her friends now. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that fucker Razor hadn’t instructed the guards to alert him when she woke. “You need to focus, heal yourself, and then get the hell out of here,” She told herself firmly.
Rose lay back onto the soft bed, murmuring quietly a simple healing spell, and grinding her teeth when it went to work. The soft sounds of her bones knitting back together were all she heard, apart from the blood pumping so fast through her system it was echoing in her ears. Bones, bumps, bruises and split skin, were soon almost healed, gingerly rising to go to the bathroom. She rinsed her face, redid her hair with her silver sticks, then returned to redress in clean clothes, clothes that didn’t stink of her own and Razor’s blood. That’d be far too easy for Razor or his Demon guards to track, and she was definitely not going to make it easy for them to find her. She knew what he’d do to her the next time he got her in his grip.
First Book in the Series
Author Bio
She lived abroad for a few years before returning to Scotland and finally taking up her dream - writing. She is the author of the Highland Wolf Clan series of books and several other series, The Witch, The Wolf and the Vampire, Supernatural Enforcement Bureau, Defender's Blood, Sabrina's Vampire, The Black Rose Chronicles, together with Lori's Wolf Pack. Her books fall into the Paranormal/Urban Fantasy genre, with The Black Rose Chronicles being Dystopian with Paranormal beings in abundance. She loves writing those particular kinds of stories where she can let her imagination run wild. She now spends her time reading - everything from Sci Fi to Crime, Erotica to Fantasy, Thrillers to Paranormal Romance. She loves spending time with her family and, of course, writing. She also loves chocolate, her German Shepherd, Luna, and Rose Wine! She has twitter, website and a Facebook page where she loves chatting to folks.
Author Links
Website http://www.akmichaels.com Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/AKMichaelsauthor Amazon http://www.amazon.com/A-K-Michaels/e/B00GVPA8PA Twitter https://twitter.com/AvaKMichaels Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/akmicaels
Title: My Life as I Knew It
Author: Brenda Thornlow
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Published: June 23rd, 2014
SYNOPSIS
What would you do if you were sent back in time for some unknown reason? When Brianna wakes up this morning she will be faced with that very question. Brianna lives in New York with her husband, the love of her life, Greg. She's happily married, has a great job, travels around the world and this year will be celebrating her birthday in style. Until the morning she wakes up in an apartment 3,000 miles from where she and Greg live, and seventeen years in the past! Returning to a life she hoped she would never have to think about ever again, much less relive!
TRAILER
PURCHASE LINKS
AUTHOR BIO
I started writing at a very young age, mostly as an escape from the real world. It is something I have done on and off throughout my life, but never went so far as to actually try and get published.
I started my latest story, My Life As I Knew It, around 3 years ago. I was on a roll with it until I allowed life to get in the way. I am now officially picking up where I left off. It is the first book of a series on which I'm working.
I came up with the premise for this story while undergoing some pretty harsh challenges in my personal life. As mentioned before, I always liked writing as a means of escape. While going through these particularly tough times, I had a moment when I thought about what it would be like to go back in time and do certain things differently...which I'm sure almost everyone has thought about from time to time. I sat in front of my keyboard one morning, thought about what I would do if I had that chance and went from there.
FIND HER ON
Twitter [@thornlow_brenda]
GIVEAWAY
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August 2016
CategoriesAmber's bookshelf: read
by M. Clarke
One amazing book. What can I say? Emotions were up and down throughout the book. This is one I would highly recommend. I loved the book.
At first I felt uncomfortable with the book only because these types of things always make me feel that way, but once I got further into I just loved it. I couldn't put it down. I honestly finished it in one day that is how I couldn't pu...
I was surprised at the ages of the characters, but it didn't stop me from enjoying a great book. I felt actually with the characters, like I could feel what they were going through, their emotions and things. It was very entertaining as ...
This book was amazing. It pulled me in right from the beginning and held me. My emotions throughout reading ran wild. I can't wait for more by Kathryn Crane.
I was hooked from the beginning. I couldn't put it down. I loved it.
Angela Fattig does it again. Another wonderful read. I couldn't put it down from beginning to end. I loved it.
When I was reading I thought something was missing. I haven't figured it out. It could be that I haven't read the others in the series, but I don't think that was it. Other than that it was a great read and I recommend it for anyone look...
by J.D. Rivera
Right from the beginning to the very end I didn't want to put it down. I know I say this about a lot of books, but this one is one that I never wanted to put down. This is a must read on my list!
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