#AmReading - Private Air by Billie Bates @BillieBates1

Private Air by Billie Bates

Amazon

When Sienna Harris joined the Australian Air Force as a flight attendant for the Prime Minister, she thought she’d hit the glam-job jackpot. But three years of weapons training, outback destinations, and a cheating fighter pilot fiancé, and she’s realized it’s not so fabulous after all. Time to embark on a new adventure, this time to the prestigious world of international VIP aviation.
Sienna and her best friend leave behind their small-town lives for a glitzy career flight attending on a Saudi prince’s private jet. Money, parties, designer clothes, and exotic locations fill the job description, while the sexy pilot, Ted, makes it hard for Sienna to obey the “no fraternizing” rule.
But even the most opulent of journeys can hit turbulence. Sienna’s boss, the appearance-obsessed chief stewardess, issues diuretics and Botox with the uniforms and catering orders, and the prince is a man who’s never told no. Underneath its lush appearance, could this desert oasis be more of a muddy puddle?
The Devil Wears Prada meets Pan Am in this fun frolic to the glamorous side of air travel, inspired by the author’s own experience as a VIP flight attendant in Saudi Arabia and Europe.

Author Interview – Owen Banner @OwenBanner

What was the hardest part about writing this book? Restricting myself to writing in Shirley’s voice. There is a lot that I know as a narrator that I want to make the reader aware of, and sometimes there are descriptions that I’d like to give, but I stop myself and say, “nah, Shirley wouldn’t say that.”

Did you learn anything from writing this book and what was it? Keep your focus on your characters and let them drive the story. And write from your gut. Don’t worry about what’s proper or politically correct. You can always fix that later. First, just write.

Will you write others in this same genre? Most definitely. If you read Hindsight, you’ll know why.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp? Underneath all the bullets flying, the car chases, the fist-fights and the terrorism, the theme of Hindsight is about how much of your past makes you who you are today. It’s about whether or not you can make right the wrongs that you have done, and whether you can move past the wrongs that have been done to you. That’s the essential question that most of my characters struggle with in this novel, just like most of us struggle with in life.

How much of the book is realistic? If you mean possible, I’d say, “all of it”. I put a lot of research into Hindsight to make sure that people could read it and believe that it was actually happening. As far as if it is based on my life, I’ve been in a few car chases and have an affinity for weapons and warfare, but this is Shirley’s story, not my own.

How important do you think villains are in a story? Critical. Though, I like a story in where the lines are little blurry. There aren’t many true villains in the world. People are complicated. We all have good and evil at war within us. Sometimes we do the right thing for the wrong reasons, and sometime we do the wrong thing for the right reasons. I like a story that explores multiple aspects of its characters personalities and choices. I want to empathize with the villain, to understand and see how its possible for any regular person to become that guy. In the same breath, I want to be afraid that the hero might just make enough wrong choices and become the villain after-all. That’s the kind of story I try to write.

What are your goals as a writer? As a writer, I want to tell the truth. As much as possible, I want to create believable characters who have the same questions, fears, hopes, and desires that my readers do. I want to make my reader’s heart race, their breath catch, and deprive them of sleep (I know, I’m sadistic). I want them to see themselves in my novels, facing the same moral and physical dangers and breathlessly trying to figure out how they are going to get out of it.

Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)? Thanks to the internet, I don’t have to travel much to promote my book. The amount of travel that I have done in my life has informed my writing, though.

Where do you see yourself in five years? At a desk, writing.

Hindsight

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Genre - Thriller

Rating – R

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Website http://www.owenbanner.com/

The Curse Giver by Dora Machado @DoraMachado

Chapter Eight
PROPELLED BY SHEER WILL, BREN GRABBED his saddlebags and made it to the top of the stairs. His blood pounded in his temples. The scar on his face burned like a glowing chunk of coal.
Eleanor had a way of stirring his angry blood into a rapid boil. He was tired of listening to her complaints. No matter how much he allotted to Tolone, it was never enough.
Even so, he was used to enduring her gripes. It was her daring that perturbed him most. She should be smart enough to refrain from tempting him, but she had always been even bolder than all of her audacious ancestors put together. If it would have been in his power, he would have released her from her obligations years ago.
He shouldn’t have come, but a man was entitled to a dry bed and a warm meal, especially if he was paying generously for it. The rainy season had made a mess of his camps and his men deserved a proper roof and a dry pallet every once in a while.
There was also the matter of the woman. She shouldn’t have to spend her last days on a wet horse and her last nights on the soggy ground. She didn’t deserve to be murdered coldly in a back alley among paupers and whores or in the forgotten wilderness of a wind-swept ridge.
There he went again, trying to justify the absurd delay. But he was done delaying. Eleanor’s lewd dance had stirred up his wrath. Wrath was good, the ultimate motivator. A stoked up man was the most efficient killer, a hunter worthy of Laonia and the house of Uras.
He had to do it, now, before he changed his mind.
He entered the room he kept at the seed house of Tolone and dropped his saddlebags by the door. The chamber was still warm, but the fire had died down into a pile of glowing embers. The chamber’s gloom matched his bleakness.
Not for the first time, Bren wondered what type of weakness had earned his father the curse that plagued his house. He might never know, because his father was dead and so was the rest of his line.
He wasn’t feeling very merciful tonight, a change that was bound to help. He came upon the bed in two strides. There was no point in explaining, no benefit to warning, coaxing or compelling. He was angry—at himself, at his fate. He clutched the hilt of his sword and ripped off the blankets from the bed.
The woman was gone.
He stared at the empty mattress in disbelief. A most improbable line was neatly written on the sheet, a flowing trail of ink on white linen.
Whether it was kindness, courage or charity, I thank you, my lord. Farewell. L.


Curse Giver
Award-Winning Finalist in the fantasy category of The 2013 USA Best Book Awards, sponsored by USA Book News
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Genre – Fantasy/Dark Fantasy
Rating – PG-18
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Living The Testimony by Deidre Havrelock @deidrehavrelock

My Personal Testimony

I grew up in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, as a Cree/Irish borderline Catholic girl, meaning this half-breed rarely went to Mass. However, I did pray every night. I absolutely loved God and believed in Him deeply. Being Catholic, I had heard about Jesus. In fact, my favorite song was “Away in a Manger.” Whenever I was scared, which was often, I would sing this song. But I imagined Jesus to be a fairytale—a fantasy about a perfect God coming to save people. He was just for good thoughts. He was in no way a reality.

Despite my vague belief in Jesus, my relationship with God seemed deep. I would have conversations with my invisible God; I would tell God I loved Him. And I certainly did love Him. Although, I was becoming a bit frustrated with Him because of my dreary life circumstance. You see, my dad drank—a lot. And this stress, along with the stress of my quickly emerging spiritual life, was simply too overwhelming.

As a child I lived with a strange secret. I sensed an ominous yet deeply intriguing spiritual force in my home. I simply assumed a ghost lived in my house. To convolute matters even more, when I was just seven, a man with fire for hair appeared to me in a dream, forcing me to marry him in front of an upside-down cross. He told me in the dream, “Don’t worry, you have been chosen.” From this point on, I completely believed I was married to the devil—irrevocably dark and aligned with evil.

Fortunately, this dream did motivate me to dig my heels in and search for God. I figured only God could get me divorced from the devil. But instead my search led me to Fred, a kind spirit I met in grade four through a Ouija board. Being Cree, spirits were nothing new to me. My mom’s family always talked about spirits. Most of my aunts and uncles were scared of the spirits or ghosts they saw in their dreams and in their houses, but my grandmother told me the spirits were there to help and protect us. I wasn’t quite sure what to believe. I was confused. After all, the spirits I sensed around me and the ones I saw in my dreams scared me, too. But then again, Fred seemed different. This spirit was nice. He was funny. Fred told me through the Ouija board that his job was to protect and watch over me. Eventually, I began telling myself that spirits just felt creepy, but once you got to know them they could be nice. Especially, if you were nice to them.

Fred became my constant companion. But one day, in grade six, after my best friend’s dad tried to molest me and just after my uncle Glen (who had sexually molested me as a small child) came to live with us in our home, I had a nervous breakdown. While left home alone with Glen, I grabbed a butcher knife and ran to my room to hide. Once in my bedroom, instead of picking up my Ouija board to call on Fred, I cried out to God, telling Him I wanted to kill myself. Suddenly I heard a voice speak out loud: “When you are big everything will be okay.” It was God; He spoke to me. He was real.3 I told God I’d hang on until I was big, which obviously, to a twelve-year-old mind, meant eighteen.

By age sixteen, things seemed to have miraculously changed for the better. First of all, my dad was now inexplicably healed from alcoholism. Second, I was introduced by my high school teacher to a New Age transcendental meditation and channeling group that met weekly in the back room of a small bookstore.4 I was so excited. I thought for sure—in this extremely spiritual group—I would find God and get my divorce from Satan.

This group also told me spirits were good and helpful. However, a few sessions later, I found myself strangely altered after my spirit guide Fred, along with another extremely violent spirit, entered my body during group meditation and refused to leave. A member of the group did attempt to help me force these spirits from my body, but the endeavor failed. Consequently, I was kicked out of my New Age group for having bad karma. This meant I was the one attracting these evil spirits to the group—because I was evil. I left the group feeling deeply hurt, misunderstood, and very aware of being “chosen” by the devil.5

A school friend of mine named Doug, who had joined the channeling group with me, then suggested, without knowing anything about my spiritual past, that I study Satanism. His brother had a Satanic Bible.6 After flatly declining, I began dreaming I was killing people. I also dreamed of horrible evil creatures. Rats invading my house was a common dream, and the devil with fire for hair began reappearing in my dreams, growing angrier every time I refused to follow him. When I turned eighteen, I gave up on spirituality. I simply wouldn’t choose Satan and God had failed to show up and save me.

When I was twenty-two years old, now bulimic/anorexic, depressed, and suffering from intense back pain, my life took an unexpected turn when at work God surprisingly spoke to me again saying, “This is the man whom you shall marry.” That man was DJ, a young man who worked in the same office as I did. Eventually DJ and I began dating, and even though we seemed to have nothing in common—because I was convinced that God had sent him to help me—on our third date, I opened up to him, describing to him my nightmares and my spirit guide, Fred. Of course, I worried DJ might consider me crazy, but instead he said, “I’m here to help.”7

It was a few weeks later that DJ opened up to me, explaining how he believed in Jesus. He told me he believed Jesus was alive. He told me Jesus could heal me and save me; and because he was God’s actual Son, he was the gateway to knowing and experiencing God. DJ asked me to simply trust Jesus.8

But I was more than a little doubtful. In fact, his Christian beliefs made me furious. It seemed idiotic for anyone to believe that a childhood fairytale could be true, and it seemed positively arrogant that DJ thought he knew and understood God. After all, why couldn’t God just save me Himself? What did He need Jesus for? Why was Jesus so important? I argued with DJ about the relevance of Jesus many times. Then one night, after arguing about Jesus yet again, my back flared up with pain. DJ asked if he could pray for me. I was uncomfortable with this but thought, What will it hurt?

As DJ prayed for me, particularly when he asked me to be healed “in the name of Jesus,” my back pain sharply escalated—then the voices began. It was just like during my channeling days. Spirits stirred inside me wanting to speak. Except this time they were enraged. As DJ continued praying, my body contorted as my muscles tightened; a low growl came from my lips. Within seconds, a thick black mass pulled out from my back and hovered above us. I remember huddling against DJ, whispering, “What is that?”

“It’s evil,” he said.

I was terrified. DJ, however, immediately told the evil spirits to “leave, in the name of Jesus.” Surprisingly, the blackness retreated back down inside me. I was horrified and confused, crying and shaking. I didn’t understand I was possessed. All I knew was that Fred and another spirit were living inside me; they were angry, extremely strong, and they absolutely hated the name Jesus.

DJ, now with clear confirmation that my problem was actually demonic possession, had to find help, but where was he to go? He wasn’t sure if his church leadership would believe him. DJ then met with a Christian girl, Audrey, who also worked in our office.9 She and DJ decided to bring me to her church. They hoped her pastor could pray for me and expel the evil spirits.10

DJ convinced me to attend a service. However, shortly after arriving at the church, I found myself running from the service after voices in my head told me to kill the pastor. I remember this pastor was preaching about Jesus being able to heal. The whole service felt strange and uncomfortable to me, but DJ convinced me to go back to this church two more times. Each time I returned, the strength and rage of the voices grew and my strange back pain returned. Finally, much too terrorized and confused to go on, I refused to go back. I told DJ talking about Jesus aggravated my problems, so the solution was obviously not to talk about him.

Living the testimony

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Genre – Christian Living

Rating – G

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Website www.deidrehavrelock.com

The Colors of Friendship by K. R. Raye @KRRaye

Moving On

Lance flicked his wrist and checked his watch.  Yes, 5:00 p.m. on the dot.  With a smile he knocked on the girls’ dorm room door ready to tackle their English study session.  Even though they each pursued different majors: Melody, Communications; Imani, Chemical Engineering; and he studied Business; they all made a vow at orientation to align their core Freshmen classes and liberal arts electives whenever possible. 

He heard movement behind the door as one of the girls checked through the peephole and then Imani threw open the door.

Lance smiled and landed a peck on her cheek before he strolled inside. 

The phone rang and Imani shoved him towards it.  “Could you get that? It’s my mom,” she said heading towards the bathroom she shared with Melody and the two girls in the connecting room. 

Colors of Friendship

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Genre – New Adult, Contemporary

Rating – R

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Website http://krraye.com/events.html

Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space by H. Peter Alesso

CHAPTER 5

The hours in a day were never enough. Each watch, report, and exam seemed like an organized disruption to Gallant’s desire for food and sleep. Each irreverent “Attention Midshipman Gallant” that blared over his head, called him away to some new obligation. A week after re-qualifying, Gallant joined the other midshipmen in an advanced flight training session conducted by Lieutenant Mather.

Mather was going to review the ship’s computer systems in detail in preparation for a mock combat session. While many of the midshipmen were already up to date on the ship’s AI systems, it was an opportunity for Gallant to catch-up.

Mather stood at the head of the compartment at a lectern facing several rows of chairs. He began describing the Repulse’s computer system, “It’s a marvel of Twenty-second Century technology. It provides three levels of operation for each and every important department on board including: navigation, engineering, weapons, environmental, and communications. The first level is the centralized Artificial Intelligence (AI) system. It performs what we call ‘strong-AI.’ Then, the second level includes system operations of individual departments with their own ‘weak-AI.’ They require more human interaction in order to coordinate systems. Finally, the last level is direct human manual control.”

“Officers, this is the strong-AI system nicknamed GridScape.” A three dimensional humanoid holograph form appeared before Mather. ““The avatar image is changeable,” he flipped through a few before settling on a base form. “I prefer this nondescript image for my lectures. GridScape is a wireless grid computer network consisting of over one million parallel central processors performing a billion-billion operations per second. It helps to control operations throughout the ship and its fighter support within a limited range. It coordinates overall control with our technically trained crew. Of course, it has redundant connectivity for reliability; both direct wiring, as well as wireless connections. GridScape is fully capable of independent automatic operation for most routine operations and many emergency responses that the ship may be required to perform.”

Sandy Barrington stood up and asked, “What happens when there’s battle damage, sir?”

“In the event the strong-AI system is damaged, the weak-AI computer systems take over local functional operation. Of course, every device can be switched to manual operation as required. Also, all crew members have their comm pins. They can connect to local resources that in turn can connect to the centralized AI,” said Mather.

midshipman

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – G

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#AmReading - Her Dying Breath by Rita Herron @ritaherron

Her Dying Breath by Rita Herron

Amazon

Journalist Brenda Banks is on the verge of the biggest story of her career—if she can stay alive long enough to finish it. A serial killer is targeting men in the small town of Slaughter Creek, leaving behind a twisted trail of clues meant only for Brenda. It’s a dangerous, deadly game, one she cannot master without the help of FBI Special Agent Nick Blackwood, the man she’s loved since high school—and whose tormented past could hold the key to catching a killer.

Nick Blackwood barely survived childhood at the hands of his father, a sadistic mastermind known as the Commander. Since he left town, he’s spent his life chasing criminals—and trying to forget the beauty he once loved. But when a murder investigation brings him face-to-face with Brenda Banks, Nick cannot ignore the smoldering fire she rekindles in his troubled soul. Allowing Brenda into his heart means letting down his guard—and that’s just what the killer is counting on…

Loving Conor: A Clairvoyant’s Memoir on Loving, Bonding and Healing by Tami Urbanek @tamiurbanek

Chapter Three: Surviving Life

I woke up to the phone ringing in the middle of the night.

“Tami, you need to pick me up,” I heard Nyle say.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at 7-11,” he said, slurring his words.

He told me the street and packing Bethany into the car, I drove through a light snowstorm to find him.

I located the correct 7-11 and I walked in looking around for Nyle.

“Hey, are you looking for that drunk?” The 7-11 clerk asked as he nodded at me.

“Was a guy here waiting for someone?” I asked.

“Yeah, he wanted booze, I told him to leave.”

“Do you know which way he went?” I asked.

“Have no idea.”

Leaving the store and getting back in my car, my hands clenched the steering wheel. I drove around looking for Nyle, scolding myself for coming out in the snow with Bethany in a car that didn’t have snow tires, to look for a drunken soon-to-be ex-husband.

I found Nyle wandering the sidewalk. Pulling over, I rolled down the passenger window.

“Nyle, what are you doing? Get in the car.”

He just looked at me, obviously drunk, confused, and swaying as he tried to keep his balance.

He crawled into the front passenger seat, laid his head back, and closed his eyes. I drove him back to my apartment. Once I parked the car, I realized I had no idea how to get him from there to inside my apartment. It was too cold to leave him in the car overnight, though I did consider it. I looked over at Nyle, and I wondered what the hell I was doing and how I was going to get him to wake up.

After continually pushing on his arm to wake him up, he finally roused awake enough to stumble into my apartment. He immediately staggered over to the couch and collapsed on it. I gently placed Bethany in her crib, gazing at her as she slept. In that moment, I was grateful I was divorcing Nyle and knowing my daughter was safe and asleep, I immediately fell asleep too.

I was still on maternity leave, so I was home the next morning when someone came to get Nyle for work.

“Hey, you need to wake him up,” Nyle’s friend said. He had figured out that Nyle was here when he didn’t show up at the barracks last night.

“I tried, I can’t get him up. I think he’s still drunk.”

“He’s going be in trouble if he doesn’t show up to formation.” Giving up, the guy left.

Walking over to Nyle and pushing on him hard, I said, “Nyle, wake up! GET UP! You have to get up for work!” I felt like I was yelling at a deaf person.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at me with a confused expression. He seemed to be trying to remember how he got to my apartment. He slowly sat up, keeping his hands on the couch for balance. He mumbled something, but it sounded as if his mouth was full of cotton. He stood up and with a shaky walk he made his way to the phone as I watched him call a friend to come get him.

Later that day, as I sat on the couch, in my apartment, I looked at my bills and felt my ongoing fear starting to rise. I began looking at my past choices. At eighteen, I had made the choice to marry and by nineteen, I had made a choice to be a mother. I had stayed with Nyle for fifteen months even though he was drinking and would be violent when he was drunk. I wasn’t proud that I was working at McDonald’s to meet basic financial needs, and I was fearful on a daily basis.

How was I going to fix this? How was I going to survive? Would things ever change? Would I ever be happy? Would I ever earn more than slightly above minimum wage? I didn’t know.

I walked around the apartment while Bethany was napping in her crib. Without Nyle there, the apartment was cleaner and I didn’t fear the weekends anymore. I still had to deal with the holes in the doors and walls at some point.

Out of desperation, the next day, I took my wedding ring to the pawnshop and I was grateful for the cash. It had a couple of diamonds, so they offered me a decent sum of money.

When my mom called to see how I was doing, I told her I had pawned my wedding ring.

“Why did you pawn your ring?”

“I needed the money,” I said, feeling depressed.

“Well, we’ll give you the money to go and buy it back. You don’t want to pawn your ring.” With my parents’ financial assistance, I bought back my ring before it was sold to someone else. But what about next month, when money would once again be tight?

That week, the manager at McDonald’s called to make sure I was still coming back to work when my maternity leave ended.

I told him I couldn’t wait to get back to work and I meant it. I was looking forward to having at least a few dollars in my wallet.

I spent the next couple of weeks getting on a schedule with Bethany and looking for home daycares. I found one near my apartment.

I returned to work, and I happily started earning money again. I was receiving child support, and life began to take on a more routine state, but I was experiencing a lot of anxieties. I still wanted a man to make me feel better about myself. I didn’t understand that I was not giving myself the credit I deserved in being able to love and take care of myself. As a result, I drew in the same types of people and relationships as before.

Not long after returning to work, I ran into Josh, a guy I had briefly dated when I was seventeen years old. We easily picked up where we left off and we quickly became exclusive in our dating.

Initially, Josh was attentive toward Bethany, and we had fun getting to know each other again, but it didn’t take long before we began to fight. We would get into yelling matches that were reminiscent of my relationship with Nyle, always fighting about something that wasn’t even important. We were young, immature and neither one of us knew how to communicate. Still, I was thankful he was in my life when one day out of the blue, I found Nyle knocking on my door.

“Tami, can we talk?” Nyle asked. Standing there waiting for me to say it was okay for him to come into the apartment. His hands were in his pockets and I noticed the tension he held in his shoulders.

“I guess…”

He walked into my apartment and sat down on the couch.

“Tami, I’m sorry. I screwed up.” He paused and then said, “I know I messed up with you….” Nyle’s voice trailed off and I waited for him to continue, not really knowing where this was heading.

He finally continued, “What do you think. Could we try again?”

I looked at him wondering what to say. Despite our fighting, I had strong feelings for Josh and now, here was Nyle apologizing and proposing we try again. As I paused, not sure what to say to him, I looked around my apartment. It was cleaner, and I immediately noticed the still unpatched holes in the wall and doors. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start again and have the same old result of drunken weekends.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” I said.

He left without much hesitation. That was my clue that he wasn’t invested in starting over, but maybe just looking for convenience. I knew he never liked living in the barracks on base. Also, I always wondered if his mother had talked him into trying to get back together or if it was all his idea. I knew she wanted me to take care of him.

I had begun to understand that it was never my job to take care of Nyle. That was his job. Although it took me a few years to fully realize that I needed keep my focus on caring for Bethany and myself. Even then I had begun to understand this and that I didn’t need to feel guilty for leaving Nyle.

LovingConor

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Genre - Memoir

Rating – PG-13

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#AmReading - The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho @paulocoelho

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Amazon

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho continues to change the lives of its readers forever. With more than two million copies sold around the world, The Alchemist has established itself as a modern classic, universally admired.

Paulo Coelho’s masterpiece tells the magical story of Santiago, an Andalusian shepherd boy who yearns to travel in search of a worldly treasure as extravagant as any ever found.

The story of the treasures Santiago finds along the way teaches us, as only a few stories can, about the essential wisdom of listening to our hearts, learning to read the omens strewn along life’s path, and, above all, following our dreams.

Bulletproof by Regan Black @ReganBlack

Bulletproof

“Dark, gritty, sexy suspense with one hell of a hot hero.” -USA Today bestseller Debra Webb

A soldier is nothing without his honor.

To avoid a dishonorable end to his decorated military career, John Noble made a deal with the devil. He gave up his name, endured harrowing training, and accepted every mission thrown at him for one purpose: redemption.

When he accepts his latest orders, providing personal security for a reporter in trouble, he bargains hard to guarantee it will be his last job for the shadow agency he knows only Unknown Identities (UI).

An ambitious reporter, Amelia Bennett, is about to break the story of her career, if she lives long enough to tell it. Caving to her boss’s demand, she hires a bodyguard and soon it is obvious John Noble is the only obstacle standing between her and certain death.

Just when John believes he has found someone he can trust and love, who loves him unconditionally for who and what he has become, his orders are amended: Amelia Bennett is to be terminated.

Introducing Unknown Identities: an alternative for elite soldiers and spies facing criminal charges… if they can survive the program.

Don’t miss Double Vision, the next installment of this sizzling, action-packed series.

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Genre - Romantic Suspense

Rating – R

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Website http://www.reganblack.com

The King of Sunday Morning by J.B. McCauley @MccauleyJay

The Mile End Mambo
1990
He held him in his arms and looked into the glassy eyes. Yellow flecks dotted the cornea. This boy was dead a long time before Roger had run him through. He knew the look. Too much top shelf and not enough down time.
The body from which life dramatically seeped away began to convulse. It would not be a Hollywood death. It would be a harsh demise for this gangster. Unexpected but unavoidable. He had stepped on the wrong toes and nobody touched Roger’s patch.
The big screen had always glamorised death but there was nothing glamorous about having a gaping 12-inch gash where your stomach had once been. Roger’s white shirt was splattered with blood and sputum. He noted to himself with an air of cold detachment that he would have to dispose of it later. The boy soldier’s back arched in agony. A gurgling noise rushed from his throat and then he was gone.
Roger put his arm underneath the boy’s knees and slowly lifted him from the red morass that had filled the doorway. He cradled him in his arms and walked slowly along the pavement. A young couple averted their gaze as he struggled with the limp body. They knew not to look. This was after all the witching hour in the East End. What you don’t see, you can’t tell. He turned the corner and moved into another shop doorway. It was a Dixon’s electrical shop exalting the latest stereos and TV’s.
Roger placed the body carefully on the ground. He took one final look at what 10 minutes ago had been the epitome of arrogance, bravery and youth, then left. He walked quickly to the edge of Walters Street, turned into Burden and darted through a now deserted car park and onto Rially. He saw a red telephone box just up from Dunston Road. He opened the door and tried to ignore the stench of piss and shit. He dialled the number and waited patiently for the connection.
“Rudi?”
His rich baritone West-Indian voice caressed the receiver.
“Yeah, he’s in Dixon’s shopfront on Walters Street.” He paused, digesting the question on the other end of the line.
“Yeah he’s dead. Dead as a door nail. See you at home.”
With that, he hung up the phone and disappeared into the night. His red Rasta beanie swaying as he loped through the shadows. The victim wouldn’t be missed. Roger had nothing to fear. The status quo had been maintained and an example had been made.
Most of all, Rudi would be pleased.
King of Sunday Morning
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Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music
Rating – PG-18
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#AmReading - The Case of the Flashing Fashion Queen by N.L. Wilson @norah_wilson

The Case of the Flashing Fashion Queen by N.L. Wilson

Amazon

Tired of getting no respect at the big P.I. firm where she's worked for years, Dix Dodd has hung out her own shingle at the ripe age of 40. There are plenty of cheating husbands to go around, and Dix has a knack for busting them. Problem is, it doesn't always pay so well. Conscious that the guys back at the old firm are laying bets about how soon she'll come crawling back, she figures she's got six months to make a go of it. The going gets even tougher when she hires Dylan Foreman. But when he told her about getting fired from his law firm and disbarred for putting common decency before the firm's interests, she hired him on the spot. In addition to being smart, he's gorgeous enough to remind her she's a woman. And at 28, young enough to make her feel like a total cougar. Things start looking up when Dix gets hired by millionaire businessman Ned Weatherby's wife Jennifer Weatherby, to tail Ned 24/7 for a week, for a cool ten grand. Easy-peasy, right? Wrong! The job lands Dix in the middle of a murder investigation - with her as the prime suspect and her arch-enemy Detective Richard Head (a.k.a., Dickhead, one of the cheating husbands she'd nailed) gunning for her. Dix will need all her ingenuity, as well as the help of Dylan and her oddball cast of supporters to extricate herself from this one.

#AmReading - Be Mine This Christmas Night by L.A. Sartor @LesannSartor

Be Mine This Christmas Night by L.A. Sartor

Amazon

The Children's Author …
Annie Hamilton's children's series Star Light~Star Bright is a mega hit. She loves kids and wants nothing more than a family of her own, but twice burned, thrice shy. When a gorgeous man with two young boys moves next door, Annie can't help but dream her impossible dream.
And The Widower Who Moved Next Door …
Cole Evans is a brilliant scientist, but finds fatherhood a challenge. When his son develops a bond with their enchanting neighbor, the boy’s favorite author, Cole discovers just how much he's lost—and how much he needs.
Will Their Wish Come True This Christmas Night?
Can Cole overcome family meddling and alleviate Annie's fears so they can be a ready-made family?

Becoming Human (The Exilon 5 Trilogy, Book 1) by Eliza Green @elizagreenbooks

Eliza Green

Two Worlds. Two Species. One Terrifying Secret.

In 2163, a polluted and overcrowded Earth forces humans to search for a new home. But the exoplanet they target, Exilon 5, is occupied. Having already begun a massive relocation programme, Bill Taggart is sent to monitor the Indigenes, the race that lives there. He is a man on the edge. He believes the Indigenes killed his wife, but he doesn’t know why. His surveillance focuses on the Indigene Stephen, who has risked his life to surface during the daytime.

Stephen has every reason to despise the humans and their attempts to colonise his planet. To protect his species from further harm, he must go against his very nature and become human. But one woman holds a secret that threatens Bill’s and Stephen’s plans, an untruth that could rip apart the lives of those on both worlds.

BECOMING HUMAN, part one in the Exilon 5 trilogy, is a science fiction dystopian adventure that you won’t want to put down.

˃˃˃ Thought Provoking SciFi, Dystopian Tale – Compulsion Reads

I would happily recommend this book to fans of dystopia, science fiction and conspiracy lovers. You will be in for an exciting ride.

˃˃˃ Excellent Use of ForeShadowing – Masquerade Crew

This book demonstrates why I read Indie books and have enjoyed doing so immensely. Yes, some self-published books don’t deserve to see the light of day, but this isn’t one of those. Far from it. It was exciting and it had mystery. It sets up the next book while still giving you closure in this one–a difficult task for a book in a series.

˃˃˃”Becoming Human”… a promising first book… 4 1/2 Stars – Top 1000 Amazon Reviewer

A well written and deftly told Sci-Fi tale that got better and better.

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Website http://www.elizagreenbooks.com

Great White House by Christoph Paul @ChristophPaul_

Prologue

Most stories should not start with “it was a dark and stormy night” but this evening in Washington, DC could be described no other way. A great storm was raging, as were key members of Congress and other important figures. The politicians waited in silence staring at a blank satellite screen for the eccentric Chinese President Xi Jinping to appear and discuss the massive debt America owed China.

The group was in the East Room of the White House above the library, where a small window reflected the faces of those who had enough ‘klout’ to sit at the round table with President Obama and Vice President Biden.

It would be any news reporter's dream to sit alongside these political heavyweights, but the “China Task Force” or C.T.F. had made this a closed conference, top-secret event. So secret, even Snowden didn’t know about it.

Even if the White House let the press in, the reporters would not have made it through the heavy downpour in Washington, DC. Visibility in the city was close to zero. Normal traffic ended hours earlier as young and old government employees hunkered down in their favorite bars to weather the storm.

Now, rain poured so hard the echoes of the downpour shot through the White House, giving attention to the awkward silence in the East Room.

As the large teleprompter screen remained blank, an animated Michele Bachmann broke the silence. “I just don’t trust these Chinese, even with their food. My husband ends up having problems with his rectal area after he eats it when I’m away. You should see the fees I pay his proctologist. Thank the good Lord we don’t have ObamaCare or he wouldn’t be able to walk.”

The other members of the C.T.F. remained silent, as most believed Mr. Bachmann to be a closeted homosexual. Being the peacemaker, President Obama wanted to avoid any divisive issues. “Yes. I understand. Chinese food, though delicious, bothers my stomach and Michelle’s as well Congresswoman Bachmann.”

Joe Biden rose from his chair and headed toward the decanter on a table at the side of the room. “Hey, Barry, I thought it was only black guys that were late, not the Chinese. Ha. That's good one.”

The oft-amused Biden smiled and gave a self-satisfactory laugh. President Obama shook his head, grateful the press wasn’t here to catch another ‘JoeGaffee.’ Biden poured himself a glass of scotch as Obama popped a piece of Nicorette in his mouth.

“Since this meeting is 'not official,' I suppose it's all right to have a drink.” Biden cheered the room. He brought another cup over to Wisconsin Representative Paul Ryan and sat back down; the two had become close since their 2012 Vice Presidential debate and would drink over the ‘malarkey’ of the day.

Eric Cantor, next to his also-tanned counterpart Majority Leader Boehner, was fed up with the jokes. “In all seriousness, what the Chinese President is doing is a power move. It’s a psychological display of dominance. You can’t trust a communist.”

Senator Ted Cruz slammed his fist on the table. “Those commies will play mind games. I agree.”

Congresswoman Pelosi raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I’m more worried about this storm. We might be stuck here.” She gestured at the window. “This storm has gotten dangerous. I'm telling you, it's global warming. Only global warming could cause a downpour of this magnitude! My constituents are very worried about this issue and so am I.”

Democrat Senator Harry Reid and Socialist Bernie Sanders agreed but Congresswoman Bachmann and Congressman Tim Scott shook their heads in annoyance and said a silent prayer for the socialists in the room.

Other Republicans rolled their eyes at Pelosi’s statement. Libertarian-leaning Senator Rand Paul responded, “If global warming even exists, the market will fix it. What we need to worry about is the debt. The Chinese have every right to call this emergency meeting and to want their money.”

Ben Bernanke and Tim Geithner (who was called out of retirement to help out the C.T.F.) nodded in approval of Senator Paul’s market solution.

President Obama took a deep breath and offered a fake but serene glance to acknowledge Paul's statement. He put his hand up and quieted the room. “Now, now, let's not have the global warming debate right now, folks. There is talk that the Chinese are very upset about our debt and want us to pay now, which is a surprise to us all. But that is not the only reason for this emergency meeting. The NSA has heard some terrorist chatter about an attack on Annapolis that could dismantle many of our Navy’s resources. They say the Chinese might know about it. We might be in for a long night. Look, if the storm gets worse, you can sleep here; it’s a big house. We can sell to it to the press as a political sleepover. They’ll find that cute and bipartisan.”

New York Senator Schumer rubbed his temples in frustration. “Oi vey, I don’t have my Ambien.”

Senator McCaskill gave him a nice Missouri smile.

“It’s okay, Chuck. You can have some of mine. Senator Rubio, I have some bottled water if you need it, too.”

The group laughed and Senator Rubio inwardly grimaced at the overused joke but mustered a smile that only a man running for President in 2016 could pull off.

Senator McCain put down his unfinished poker game. “You pansies and your sleeping pills. When I was in Vietnam I slept on pure steel and spider shit… President Obama, sir, I’m sick of waiting for these communists. Either you call them or I will.”

President Obama saw an annoyed crowd and felt the temperature in the room rising. On days like this he was sick of being President but he knew this was not a time for self-pity. He looked out at the storm and thought of his Kenyan father herding goats in this type of downpour. His father would not have been deterred by hardships like this. The President sighed with finality. “All right, John, enough is enough. Let’s get President Xi Jinping on screen. We’ve waited long enough.”  

Great White House NEW COVER

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Genre – Fiction, Humor

Rating – PG-13

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The Eden Plague (Plague Wars) by David VanDyke @DVanDykeAuthor

New-Eden-Plague-Kindle-Size-187x300-1

A hard-hitting military technothriller, ON SALE for a limited time. Pick it up today before it’s back to its normal $3.98 price.

A Kindle Book Review 2013 Best Indie Award Winner semi-finalist. thekindlebookreview.net/2013-book-awards/ 

Rule #1: Try not to shoot your future wife. When special operations veteran Daniel Markis finds armed invaders in his home and it all goes sideways, he soon finds himself on the run from the shadowy Company and in possession of a genetic engineering breakthrough that might throw nations into chaos. Out of options, Daniel turns to his brothers in arms to fight back and get the answers he needs. Soon he takes possession of a secret that threatens the stability of the world, as he leads a conspiracy to change everything.

Eden Plague leads readers into the exciting and engrossing Plague Wars apocalyptic-thriller series. It borrows from the traditions of Michael Crichton, Dean Koontz, with shades of David Drake, Jerry Pournelle, S. M. Stirling, Vaughn Heppner and B.V. Larson.

Also from David VanDyke:

The Plague Wars Series:
- The Eden Plague
- Reaper’s Run
- The Demon Plagues
- The Reaper Plague
- The Orion Plague
- Cyborg Strike
- Comes the Destroyer

Stellar Conquest Series:
- Planetary Assault – contains First Conquest: Stellar Conquest Book 1
- Desolator: Book 2
- Tactics of Conquest: Book 3 (Winter 2013)

PG-13 for language, violence and adult situations (non-explicit)

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Genre – SciFi, Adventure

Rating – PG13

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Blog https://davidvandyke.wordpress.com/

#AmReading - The Last Bride in Ballymuir by Dorien Kelly @dorienkelly

The Last Bride in Ballymuir by Dorien Kelly

Amazon

When Michael Kilbride, a handsome man with a dark past, arrives in the Irish village of Ballymuir, rumors begin to fly. While many turn against him, one woman steps forward--the village's beloved schoolteacher, Kylie O'Shea. Kylie's friends have long believed that proper Kylie is bound to fulfill the local legend of being the last bride in Ballymuir. But sparks soon ignite between Michael and Kylie. Will Kylie, who also hides secrets, find the courage to confront her past and claim passion as her own?

Julia (The Good Life series) by Sarah Krisch

Julia

The Good Life Book One

Chapter 1

1.

...and looking out on the two acres of newly planted seedlings, I feel a sense of satisfaction that only working your own land can bring. Although my back is sore and dirt cakes my fingernails, I know that the land gives back so much more than the effort I put into it. Inhaling the fragrant spring air, feeling the sun's gentle warmth, I am at peace. For tonight, my family will feast on cream of asparagus soup, an early season tossed green salad, and a crusty home-baked bread that melts on your tongue. Pair this with a bottle of local elderberry wine, and you're living the good life.

Julia closed her eyes, her fingers a hair's width from striking the laptop's keyboard. She could almost feel the sun on her cheeks, smell the freshly turned soil. It was a comfort she would often recall whenever she needed a reminder of some of the happiest moments of her life. As a child she'd spent her summer months living at her grandparents' farm in Harmony Grove, Iowa. In retrospect, those quaint, stuck-in-time summer vacations were a great way to grow up, but she couldn't be happier having moved to Chicago—or living with Nora, her best friend since they'd been paired as college roommates eight years ago.

The click of high heels brought her out of her reverie. Julia looked up to see the overly made-up face of the nail tech as she glanced at the timer and whispered, "Five more minutes." Julia nodded and looked back at her laptop screen.

She sighed, happy to have finished another weekly column. Not only was it finished, it was actually pretty darned good. Nine months of weekly columns… she never imagined it would last so long, or that she would even have enough to write about to keep it fresh and interesting. When she'd started the column as a simple blog she never thought anyone would read it. But somehow, in the mysterious workings of the internet, her little Wordpress blog had garnered a following, a following that soon outgrew the free domain world of Wordpress. Her blog, The Good Life, had been syndicated by the Chicago Herald website for six months. Her thousand loyal readers had now become ten times that amount, and growing.

She saved the file to her laptop, careful not to smudge her manicure, and then emailed a copy to her editor at the Herald.

When the timer went off, Gloria, the owner of the salon, approached with a smile and lifted the hairdryer. "How was your day of beauty?"

Julia stood up from the pedicure drying station and glanced down at her toes. "I finally look worthy of the gorgeous Jimmy Choos I bought last week. They only cost me a month's worth of columns."

"I don't know how you get any work done here with all of this racket going on."

"When I'm working on my column, I'm not really here," Julia said as she closed her computer and stowed it in her laptop bag. "I'm at the farm."

"You sure don't look like a farm girl to me."

"And thanks to all of your fabulous skills, I never will." Julia wiggled her fingernails, gleaming with fresh polish. She hadn't had her hands in freshly turned soil in many years.

"None of your readers suspect that you're really just a city girl with an active imagination?"

"No, ma'am. That's one of the reasons I keep coming back to you. Beautician-to-client confidentiality," Julia said with a wink.

"Your secrets are safe with me, girl," Gloria said as she walked Julia to the cash register. "Same time next week?"

Julia handed over her well-used Visa. "You know I can't resist."

Julia

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Genre – Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Rebekah's Quilt by Sara Barnard @TheSaraBarnard

A long shadow appeared on the ground outside the barn, concealing the identity of the owner. “Lester at the livery claimed the only place to get quality wood work done was by a feller out here by the name of Stoll. Samuel Stoll.” With a jingle, the stranger stepped into the patch of sun framed by the barn’s door. “I’m Peter O’Leary.” His voice was deep and coarse. He towered over Samuel, who stood, grinning, next to him.

The sun glinted off the two tinkling silver stars that stuck off the backs of his boots.

Hallo,” said Rebekah and Joseph in unison.

She let her eyes roam over the stranger, taking no qualms at subtlety. Tufts of straw-colored hair stuck out from under his black hat, which was cocked over one eye in a decent attempt at covering a vertical scar that ran through his eyebrow. His stormy green eyes stared back at her from his stubbly face, revealing no emotion. He neither smiled nor frowned.

“Does your family await your return in Montgomery?” The sudden sound of Joseph’s voice made her jump.

Peter flipped back his duster, revealing two shining pistols, one held in place on each of his hips by a gleaming black belt.

“Family?” He spat on the dusty barn floor and shifted his weight, causing the silver stars to clink again. “Ain’t got none waitin’, least not in Montgomery.”

Rebekah cocked an eyebrow before she could help herself. The manners of the English haven’t improved much since rumspringa.

RebekahsQuilt

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Genre - Romantic Historical Fiction

Rating – PG

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Love Unbroken (Love, Life, & Happiness) by Sheena Binkley @ChevonBink

LoveUnbroken

Riana:

I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone when I arrived at Shaw University. After my last stint at love, the only thing I wanted to focus on is getting through my first semester of college without any drama. That was my intentions, until I met Shawn Walker. At first I didn’t like him. He was arrogant and cocky; someone that I could easily despised, if he wasn’t so damn sexy. But one night changed my thoughts about him. I was able to let down my guard and be myself. Now, I have a second chance at love. Will I let myself love again, or will I continue to live in the past?

Shawn:

After my last girlfriend cheated on me, love was not on my agenda. I tried to escape it at all costs, until I met Riana Robertson. After thinking she was like every other girl, I easily avoided being around her, but that night, when I saw what happened to her, I had to help her. I had to protect her. That night changed the way I felt about her and I realized I could fall hard for her. But will our relationship survive once she finds out the truth about me. Or will I lose her forever…

This story is intended for readers 17+ (adult content/language, sexual content/language).

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Genre - New Adult Romance

Rating – R

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Date with the Dead by Chris Myers @CMyersFiction

Chapter 5
After the Caldwells give us our licenses back, Reese and I head out.
“Do you want a ride home?” he asks.
“That’s okay. It’s only a couple miles,” I say. “Let’s talk about the evidence tomorrow.”
“I’ll go over it tonight,” he says, grinning at me.
I’m glad he’s into the techie side of the business. Going through hours of video and voice recordings bore me. Drew and I climb onto my bike. Dark clouds cover the moon, so I pedal fast to beat the rain. I should’ve accepted the ride.
We aren’t even a quarter of the way home when fat droplets splatter my arms. “Shoot.”
Drew squeezes my waist. “Get over. This SUV’s going to clip us.”
Bike reflectors are hard to see at night, so I don’t look behind me but get off the road as far as I can. The headlights shine on me and light up the road in front of me. I’m right against the curb. Surely, he sees me. The SUV slows. The engine breathes on me. I don’t look back. Why isn’t he going around? The vehicle camps on my rear fender for a minute.
“What’s he doing?” Drew asks.
“I don’t know.”
The SUV slowly comes beside me. I look into the tinted windows. I can’t see inside, but the thought of someone staring back at me sends chills along my arms.
The SUV speeds up and brushes against my left pedal. My body jumps as if I’ve been struck by a live wire. The bicycle swerves. I hit the curb and flip, which would’ve seemed graceful if it had been on purpose. My body slides against the sidewalk then onto someone’s lawn.
“Jerk,” Drew yells, pumping his fist in the air.
“I don’t think he can hear you.” I gather myself while rain droplets plunk down on my head, matting my hair.
“Are you okay?” Drew asks, helping me to my feet.
“I’ll survive,” I say, assessing the damage. My right knee is banged up. Shin and palm road rash. I’m shaking hard like I’m holding onto the wing of an airplane flying through a storm.
Computer? I yank it from my back pack. It’s okay. I sigh with relief.
My front handlebars are askew. Great. I’ll have to walk my bike home in the rain. Another drop hits my nose. I tighten my thin jacket and shiver from the sudden wet cold. I pick up the bike and push it while wincing with each step I take. 
A blue FJ Cruiser drives onto the curb behind me. Add embarrassment now to my list of injuries. The rain patters my head.
The driver gets out. It’s Hayden, Mr. Terminator. My knees buckle, not that they needed much encouragement. Why couldn’t it be a teacher, someone I don’t care if he sees me looking my worst? Hayden’s in jeans and a snug polo shirt and looks fabulous whereas I probably look like road kill.
“Jesus,” he says. “I saw that guy run you off the road. He was probably chatting on his cell phone.”
That could be true, but the way he slowed down still has me trembling. “Did you get his license plate?” I ask.
“Sorry. I was too far back.” Hayden walks over to me. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
That would cost money. “No. I’ll be fine.” I hobble another few steps forward, because the rain is picking up its tempo.
Date with the Dead
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Genre - YA Paranormal Mystery, Romance
Rating – PG-13
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The Beautiful American by Marilyn Holdsworth @m_holdsworth

Chapter 2

Abby turned the van into the long driveway, drove down to the garage, and parked. From the house, she could hear loud, welcoming barks and scratching at the door as she hurried up the steps. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” she called, fumbling with her key in the sticking lock and pushing on the old, warped wood.

A moment later, she burst into the kitchen and a large, tail-wagging fur ball catapulted across the floor at her, almost knocking her legs out from under her. “Yes, yes, I’m glad to see you, too.” She laughed, stroking the joyous animal’s head, scratching behind the silky ears. “Come on, Muttie; let’s go out for a quick walk. You’ve been cooped up long enough.” From a hook inside a utility closet, she took down a leash and fastened it to the dog’s collar, and they both bounded down the back steps, two at a time.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and Abby enjoyed the walk almost as much as Muttie did. She watched the dog playfully dive under bushes, pushing her nose into piles of leaves hoping to flush out a bird or squirrel. Abby had never been sorry she had taken the animal home with her the day it had turned up at the shop. A skinny, frightened stray with a hurt paw, but with the most beautiful, big, soulful brown eyes Abby had ever seen. It had been love at first sight for both of them. Abby said the dog looked like a shepherd crossed with a spaniel. Max and Mildred, her helpers in the shop, both said she looked like a big mutt. Muttie. The name had stuck, and Muttie had become Abby’s constant companion, always closer than a shadow. Today, she stood watching the dog sniff around the base of a towering oak tree barking, excitedly at a squirrel chattering and scolding from a limb far above her. Yes, she thought, Muttie came into her life like everything else-suddenly without warning.

When her grandmother had been stricken with a stroke and died unexpectedly, Abby had been devastated. Her grandmother had raised her, taken her in after the fatal accident that had claimed the lives of her parents. The old house on Oak Lane in Westfield had been the only home she had known, and she had stayed.

She had stayed not because she had to, but because she loved it and wanted to. Her years growing up there had filled her with happy memories. Her grandmother always had been there for her, guiding her through her shy, awkward stages until she blossomed into a bubbling, confident teenager. Always a good student with a keen love for learning, Abby was at the top of her class her senior year at Westfield High. She had been accepted to several Ivy League colleges, but in the end she had chosen State to be closer to home. She’d wanted to be able to spend weekends with her grandmother. And when, after four years, she’d graduated with honors, she again had chosen State for her master’s degree. The art history department had offered a fine program focusing on antiques and period furniture design. But her grandmother had urged her to study abroad for a semester, and when she was accepted by the Sorbonne she reluctantly agreed.

The months she spent in Paris had been glorious. Every course at the Sorbonne opened her eyes to new wonders in art. Her days flew by, filled not only by fascinating classes but also with wonderful bicycling trips through the rural French countryside and sightseeing excursions to the many quaint villages outside the city. And of course, she spent hours and hours roaming through the Louvre, awed by the museum’s vast collections of the world’s most famous old masters. She never tired of exploring the many galleries and, on each visit, discovered something new to appreciate in some painting or sculpture. She marveled at the Titians, Rembrandts, and her special favorite, Leonardo da Vinci.

Writing home to her grandmother, Abby recounted her first glimpse of his most famous portrait. “The Mona Lisa is more captivating than I dreamed she could be,” she enthused. “Her mysterious half smile fascinates me. I can stand for a very long time studying her enigmatic face, wondering what secrets hide behind her darkly veiled gaze.”

But it was Paris, the enchanting city itself, that had captured her heart, and when the term was over she’d vowed to return one day.

Abby smiled ruefully remembering that vow today as she watched Muttie tugging vigorously on the leash, nose quivering with the sweet autumn scents in the air. “Paris. I haven’t forgotten my dream. I’ll get there. I’m just not sure how or when. But one day, I will, Muttie,” she said aloud as she turned back toward the long driveway up to the house.

The phone was ringing when they bounded up the back steps, and Abby dropped the leash as she hurried to answer it.

Mildred’s crisp Cockney accent came across the line. “Just checking to see if you need a bit of a hand, love—that is, if you’ve done the usual, packed the van with auction treasures.”

“Oh, Mildred, you know me too well.” Abby laughed. “Only one piece today—a gift from me to me. But it’s a beauty, and I will need a hand getting it into the house. If Max is free, I’d be grateful for his help.”

“Right. Send him along straightaway. And, Abby, I’m glad you got something for yourself this time. You deserve it. You work much too hard. A young lass like you should be steppin’ out for fun,” the older woman chided gently.

“You know I love my work. It’s my fun. But I did splurge today, Mildred. Wait till you see it. I found my desk. It’s just what I’ve been looking for—the period and style I wanted. And in good condition too. A real treasure. How soon can Max get here?”

“He’s watchin’ the tellie. I’ll just pop along and ask ’im.” Moments later, Mildred was back on the line. “Be over straightaway he says. And if you might be fixin’ a cup of tea later, I’ll be ridin’ along with ’im.”

“Perfect. Tea it is. Come as soon as you can. I can’t wait to show you my find.”

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Genre - Biographies & Memoirs

Rating – PG-13

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Blog http://MarilynHoldsworth.wordpress.com/

#AmReading - The Colour Red by Stephan J Myers @StephanJMyers

The Colour Red by Stephan J Myers

Amazon

Christmas will never be the same again as the magic of colour is brought to life for children everywhere in The Colour Red. A fantastical Christmas adventure as Loss discovers a book of dreams that transports her to a place where snowmen play. A rhapsody of images and words for reader’s young and old that will linger long after the last page is turned. Timeless in its telling The Colour Red forever captures the magic of childhood dreams in a book you will want to read over and over again.

Author Interview – SK McClafferty

Q.  What makes you angry?

A.  Injustice and narrow-minded people.  If you could hurt a child, or abuse an animal, stay away from me.  I have a revolver, and I know how to use it.  If you are narrow-minded, I will ignore you.

Q.  How do I work through my doubts and fears.

A.  Spiced rum helps.  Just kidding.  “Work” is the key to that question.  I work.  Everyone has doubts and fears.  It’s healthy, as long as you don’t let it stop you.  If I am working on a project, the creative flow blocks all negative thought.  The best thing for me is to stay in a creative place.

Q.  Why do I write?

A.  Creation makes me happy.  I wanted to be an artist, and I am.  The blank page is my canvas.

Q.  Favorite meal?

A.  Soup with French bread and real butter and a cold glass of milk.

Q.  Favorite Food?

A.  Pizza.

Q.  My favorite place on the planet?

A.  The French Quarter.

Q.  My favorite quote.

A.  “Only the mediocre are always at their best.”  Oscar Wilde.

Q. What social issues interest me?

A.  Voting rights.  Mental  health.  Children’s and victim’s advocacy.  Education.  Equality in the work-force.  Labor unions.  And poverty in general.

9781484912140_p0_v1_s260x420

Five authors contribute five novellas to this romantic collection set over centuries, in one home on the Albemarle Sound.

Home is where the heart is…

One stately residence on North Carolina’s Albemarle Sound. Five stories of heart-warming romance. Told against the backdrop of the Civil War, the loss of an unsinkable ship, the patriotic zeal of the second world war, the heart-rending conflict of Vietnam, and the thrill of modern day Nascar, Jamie Denton, S. K. McClafferty, Kathleen Shoop, Marcy Waldenville, and J. D. Wylde deliver a variety pack of poignant, sexy, and sweet.

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Genre – Romance

Rating – R

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#AmReading - The Reluctant Bride by Beverly Eikli @BeverleyOakley

The Reluctant Bride by Beverly Eikli

Amazon

Can honour and action banish the shadows of old sins?
Emily Micklen has no option after the death of her loving fiancé, Jack, but to marry the scarred, taciturn, soldier who represents her only escape from destitution.
Major Angus McCartney is tormented by the reproachful slate-grey eyes of two strikingly similar women: Jessamine, his dead mistress, and Emily, the unobtainable beauty who is now his reluctant bride.
Emily’s loyalty to Jack’s memory is matched only by Angus’s determination to atone for the past and win his wife with honour and action. As Napoleon cuts a swathe across Europe, Angus is sent to France on a mission of national security, forcing Emily to confront both her allegiance to Jack and her traitorous half-French family.
Angus and Emily may find love, but will the secrets they uncover divide them forever?

Sara Barnard - Five Mistakes Writers Make When Querying Publishers @TheSaraBarnard

Five Mistakes Writers Make When Querying Publishers

You’ve made them. I’ve made them. Sue and Joe down the street have made them. Here are 5 things that publishers cringe at:

1. This book right here is the next best seller!

Nobody can predict whether or not your book will become a bestseller or how long it will stay on the charts. Enthusiasm is important, but if you feel that strongly about your book, you might want to rephrase your exclamation into something like this. “I have begun to build a marketing platform to reach as many readers as possible. I fully intend on working with my publisher, for the long haul, to make this manuscript shine.” If any part of that statement is untrue, you might want to revisit your motives for writing and what your intentions actually are.

2. I’m the next J.K. Rowling!

Again, your enthusiasm is admirable, but a narcissistic writer is something most publishers, editors, and agents will shy away from. Don’t compare yourself to J.K. Rowling unless you ARE J. K. Rowling. However, if she is your literary idol, reach out to her. Let her read your book and ask for an endorsement. THAT is the only time it is acceptable to name-drop in a query letter. So after developing a rapport with Ms. Rowling and gaining an endorsement for your book, you might put this in your query letter. “Though this is my debut novel, I feel my writing style most closely resembles Ms. J.K. Rowling. In fact, she has endorsed this novel. Here is that endorsement. Xxxxxxx.”

3. If you don’t accept my manuscript, I’m going to tell all of my writer friends not to publish with you.

Threats and blackmail attempts travel faster through the literary community than good news EVER will. If you feel you have to threaten to get people to read your work, again, revisit your motives for writing. Perhaps read a book on bullying. So if you threaten Joe Doe at Penguin, you can bet your bottom dollar that will stick with him and he’ll warn his friends at Harvest House, 5 Prince, and Viking, too. When your manuscript is turned down (which it will be if you threaten the publisher), you have just sunk your literary ship because when your name appears in the inboxes/mailboxes at Harvest House, 5 Prince, and Viking – it will be deleted.

4. I have already pre-sold 1,000 copies of this book, so the sooner you publish it, the sooner you and I will both be making money!

Don’t write to get rich or you won’t succeed. Get your motives in place before querying. Agents and Publishers were readers before they became successful and that is what that is where their hearts will always be first and foremost. What they want to see is people who LOVE to write books others will LOVE to read become successful. Money comes last. Passion for writing comes first. Plus, fine-tune your marketing skills. Build a platform, but don’t presale books. Ever.

5. This book sucks, it’s about my life and my life sucks. So don’t judge me.

Ouch. Approach and sell your project with the enthusiasm it took to get you through the writing process to a finished product. Make your project shine – trust me, when you get through the edits, you’ll see exactly how special it is.

RebekahsQuilt

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Genre - Romantic Historical Fiction

Rating – PG

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Rebekah’s Quilt by Sara Barnard @TheSaraBarnard

RebekahsQuilt

Who can Rebekah trust when the line between English and Amish becomes blurred?

An Amish Settlement. An English stranger. The Blizzard of 1888.

Rebekah’s mother, Elnora Stoll, is the finest quilter in all of Gasthof Village but it seems Rebekah has inherited none of her skill. It’s not until the arrival of a mysterious English stranger that a lifetime of questions are answered and Rebekah, her special friend Joseph Graber, and the entire settlement of Gasthof Village learn the true meaning of what it truly means to be Amish.

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Genre - Romantic Historical Fiction

Rating – PG

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How I Made My First Sale – Michael J. Webb @mjwebbbooks

How I Made My First Sale

Sounds like the title of some of the book reports I had to give when I was in elementary school a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, or maybe the title of a movie starring Michael J. Fox (no relation).

Okay, time to get serious.

I spent six years researching and writing what I hoped was going be the next bestseller in Christian Fiction–a novel that was longer than Moby Dick, War and Peace, or Atlas Shrugged.  I loved the stuff Frank Peretti was writing, and I naively thought my work was at least as good as his, even if it was a heck of a lot longer.  When I finished it, I proudly sent it off to an agent and received an eight page, single-spaced, typed rejection letter.  I had to pay this NY Agent a fee to read the darn thing, so the rejection letter cost me a little less than $100/page.

Reality check #1.

I was depressed for a while, put the thing in the closet, and wondered what on earth I’d been thinking.  Then the writing bug not only got the better of me, it came roaring back with a vengeance. So I pulled out my nemesis, dusted it off, and decided to break the monstrosity up into three books.

Light bulb moment #1.

A few months later, I attended a writer’s conference, my first ever.  There I met the woman who became my mentor, Lurlene McDaniel.  I attended her class, and she graciously agreed to read my revised synopsis and the first three chapters overnight.  Turns out, my main female character had the same last name as hers, and Lurlene’s elderly parents just happened  to live in the same small city I lived it.

God moment #1.

She liked the story and the characters.  The writing, on the other hand, needed work. Lots of work.  She took me under her wing, long distance (this was in the 80’s mind you, the computer/Internet dark ages), and slowly but surely–under her wise and experienced guiding hand–the caterpillar became a butterfly.

Once the first book was finished, she graciously invited me to attend a major bookseller conference as her guest.  She was the Bell of the Ball.  I, on the other hand, did my best to bend the ear of any publishing rep who’d give me more than five minutes to pitch my vision.

Amazingly, one man from a well-known publishing house, Crossway Books, was intrigued enough to give me more than five minutes.  Turns out he was the guy who “discovered,” and published, Frank Peretti.

God moment #2.

He asked for the complete manuscript, read it, then three months later sent me a rejection letter. Déjà vu all over again.  Two days later, he called and asked me what I thought about his rejection letter.  Shocked to even be asked such a question, I told him my thoughts.

To make a very long story short enough to fit into this blog, I’ll finish by saying that we ended up talking on the phone over the next three nights for over three hours each night.  Six agonizing months later, he called and said, “Michael, our review committee has decided NOT to reject your book . . .”

Heck of a way to start a publishing relationship, don’t you think?

Infernal Gates

Ethan Freeman, ex-Special Forces Ranger, wakes up to discover he is the sole survivor of a fiery commercial airline crash that killed his entire family. His nightmare is only beginning when he becomes the FBI’s prime suspect. Only Ethan knows he’s not a cold-hearted murderer, but he has no idea what happened to him--and why he alone survived.

He finds an unlikely ally in Sam Weaver, the NTSB Chief Investigator. An ex-military pilot, Sam senses Ethan is innocent. She tries to remain dispassionate in her investigation of the crash even as she finds herself attracted to the man who may be America=s worst homegrown mass-murderer.

Neither Ethan nor Sam realize that shadowy spiritual forces are at work which will alter their lives forever.

A monstrous evil, imprisoned since the time of the Pharaohs, has been released by The Nine, a sinister group of powerful men and women who believe they are the direct descendants of the Anunnaki, ancient Sumerian gods. The demon they have unleashed intends to free The Destroyer from The Abyss, the angelic prison referred to in the Book of Revelation, and unleash a worldwide reign of terror and annihilation.

Facing impossible odds, time is running out for Ethan and all of humanity as he is drawn into an ever-deeper conspiracy--millennia in the making--and learns that he is the key to stopping The Nine. Will he overcome his deepest fears and find reserves of strength he never knew he had as he confronts pure evil in order to save himself and an unsuspecting world?

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Genre – Christian Thriller, Fantasy, Adventure

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www.michaeljwebbfiction.com/

GIVEAWAY

The author is giving away the following prizes -- mailed directly to the winner’s email address from Amazon.com.

PRIZES:

5 Kindle copies of Infernal Gates http://amzn.to/18HrDjY

5 Kindle copies of The Oldest Enemy http://amzn.to/RWyv4c

5 Kindle copies of The Master’s Quilt http://amzn.to/Z2SJQS