Bewitching Book Tours Magazine

Issue 18 December 2013

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Copyright 2013
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Contents
Lets Talk Holiday Traditions 4
Season of Seduction 8
Ruler of Demons Feature 10
Christmas at the Gingerbread Caf Feature 12
Santa for Holidays 14
Chasing the Star Garden Feature 16
Interview with Marina Myles 20
Jolt Feature 24
The Paranormal and Psychology 28
Review 29
Interview with D. Melhoff 30
ClaraBelles Custom Creations 33
Tarot In Fiction 34
Monthly Feature: The Longest Night 36
Christmas in Dogtown 40
Barbara Bretton Feature 42
Dragon Fire Feature 54
Revving Up the Holidays 68
Vampire Seal Novels 70
Exit Feature 76
Interview with Laurie Olerich 80
Lady of the Dead Feature 86
Entangled Publishing Features 91
Christmas Past 92
Bethanne Strasser Interview 95
Santa to the Rescue 98
Second Chance Christmas 100
White Lie Christmas 101
Naughty Nook 103
Alpha Feature 104
Eternal Ever After 108
Ribbon of Darkness 112
Pin Up Feature 114
Why Pin Up 115
Tasty Treats 116

Lets Talk Holiday Traditions by Lisa Mondello

Holiday traditions are as different as the people who them dear. Every family has their own traditions that they
never stray from each year because it brings comfort long after loved ones have passed on.

Since I have been married and had my own family, my family has their own holiday traditions that are uniquely
different than some of the traditions of my youth. Although, some traditions have remained the same.

As a child, my family would have Christmas Eve dinner at home. It was just my parents and my sisters and
brother. We would hound my parents all day to open just one gift because we couldnt wait until the morning.
They would relent, as they did every year, and then wed sit down for an Italian Christmas Eve dinner that con-
sistent of 5 different fish recipes. Some I looked forward to. Some I always turned my nose up at. (Smelts!
Ugh!)

After dinner, wed quickly clean up the dishes and then meet with the rest of the kids in the neighborhood and go
Christmas caroling. (Yes, people really do that in New England!) My neighbors would look forward to this eve-
ry year. We knew which neighbor was going to have hot chocolate ready for us. We knew who had sugar cook-
ies and chocolate. It was nice singing a song or two, and then moving on to the next house. Even a cranky
neighbor would smile and look forward to seeing us.

We dont do that anymore. Although I am Italian, I married into a
German family and my traditions of Christmas Eve dinner have
melded with my husbands. (Readno more smelts!!) My kids still
bug me to open just one gift. But instead of Christmas caroling, we
watch a holiday movie or some other movie classic.

What about your traditions? Do you do anything different as an adult
that you used to do as a kid? What tradition will you never stray
from?

All I Want for Christmas is You
Fate with a Helping Hand Book One
Lisa Mondello

Genre: Contemporary Romance

ASIN: B005KDG236

Number of pages: 192
Word Count: 40,000
Amazon Barnes and Noble iTunes Smashwords

Book Description:
Sometimes fate needs a little hand...

Santa Claus is going to have a rough season... Lauren Alexander is raising her daughter alone.
Abandoned by her family for her decision to keep her daughter Kristen, she has done a pretty
good job for the last six years. Or she thought she had. That's why she is crushed when little
Kristen gives up her wish for a toy or goodie and instead asks Santa for a present for her moth-
er. She wants Santa to bring a Daddy. Delivering Daddies isn't Santa's bag.

But this Santa has a plan...

Kyle Preston knows what it is like to be abandoned too. Luckily he found the support of lov-
ing adoptive parents and has turned himself into one of the most successful Real Estate devel-
opers in town.

Building a house is easy. Building someone's trust is a whole other story. But with a little help-
ing hand, a little Christmas magic can make all the difference in the world.

About the Author:
Lisa Mondello (a.k.a. LA Mondello) has held many jobs in her life but being a published au-
thor is the last job she'll ever have. She's not retiring! She blames the creation of the personal
computer for her leap into writing novels. Otherwise, she'd still be penning stories with paper
and pen. Her first book, All I Want for Christmas is You, was the winner of the Golden Quill
contest for Best First Book and to date has had over 750,000 downloads worldwide.
She is currently the author of 15 novels under the name Lisa Mondello and LA Mondello. You
can find more information about Lisa Mondello at http://www.lisamondello.blogspot.com
www.LisaMondello.blogspot.com
@LisaMondello
http://www.facebook.com/lisa.mondello.1

Excerpt All I Want for Christmas Is You

"You don't have to be afraid. This will explain it all. I promise you." He smiled warmly and Lauren wanted to
trust him if only to believe in simple kindness.

With shaking hands, she took the piece of paper, warm from being in the pocket close to Kyle's body. She held
it up straight so that she could see Kyle while reading the words on the paper.

"Dear Santa..." she read out loud, then read the next part silently. "Oh, no," she groaned.

"I know. That's just how I felt."

Lauren shot him a skeptical glance. "How did you get this?"

"Kristen gave it to me."

"That's impossible. Mrs. Hopkins just helped her with it this afternoon and-"
"And she gave it to me in the Mall," Kyle finished for her.

She looked at him quizzically, still trying to comprehend the course of events leading up to his seizure of her
daughter's precious note.

"It's not that hard to figure out, Lauren," Kyle said warmly.

His dark eyes gleamed with the light from the lamppost. He wore no hat to protect his head from the falling
snow. Now his hair was filled with powdered flakes, matting it down.

His grin was bright and wide as he informed her, "I'm Santa Claus."

Fate with a Helping Hand Series includes:

Book 1 ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU
Book 2 THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT
Book 3 THE KNIGHT AND MAGGIE'S BABY











Season of Seduction
Edited by Angela James, this anthology includes:
Five Golden Rings by Jeffe Kennedy
Naughty Nicks by Christine d'Abo
Mnage on 34th Street by Elise Logan and Emily Ryan-Davis
Matzoh and Mistletoe by Jodie Griffin
What's on your wish list?
After indulging in twelve naughty nights in Mexico, a woman experiences
an erotic epiphany. An adventurous elf has her eye on one very sexy San-
ta. A married couple hopes to find a very special marine under the mistle-
toe. And a holiday mitzvah leads a woman to submit to a man in uniform
on Christmas Day. No matter your fantasies, this collection of four shorts
will add spice and sizzle to cold winter nights.
Stories also available for purchase separately.

About the Author

Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author with a writing career that spans decades. Her fanta-
sy BDSM romance, Petals and Thorns, originally published under the pen name Jennifer Paris,
has won several reader awards. Sapphire, the first book in Facets of Passion has placed first in
multiple romance contests and the follow-up, Platinum, is climbing the charts. Her most recent
works include three fiction series: the fantasy romance novels of A Covenant of Thorns, the
contemporary BDSM novellas of the Facets of Passion, and the post-apocalyptic vampire eroti-
ca of the Blood Currency.

Jeffe lives in Santa Fe, with two Maine coon cats, a border collie, plentiful free-range lizards
and a Doctor of Oriental Medicine. Jeffe can be found online at her website: JeffeKennedy.com
or every Sunday at the popular Word Whores blog.

She is represented by Pam van Hylckama Vlieg of Foreword Literary.
Excerpt : Ruler of Demons by Scott A. Lerner

I turned the knob to my front door to find it unlocked. I dont always remember to lock my door so I was not
overly alarmed. On the other hand the dead bird combined with the unlocked door did put me on edge. Since
my last supernatural entanglement, I had begun to leave a Louisville Slugger in the umbrella rack by the door.
I slowly opened the door. Nothing appeared out of place, but I grabbed the bat and slowly made my way
through each room of my house. I found no sign of intruders.
I decided it was safe and put the bat back where I had stashed it. It was almost seven-thirty and I had still not
eaten. Not to be critical, but the wake could have used some snacks and Irish whiskey.
I thought about cooking some traditional Irish delicacy in honor of Mrs. ONeill but the closest thing I had in
the kitchen was a year-old box of Lucky Charms. I kept meaning to get to that. My fear of refrigerators had
mostly dissipated over the last year, and I decided to risk a roast beef sandwich. I opened the crisper bin and
gathered a container of roast beef, some sliced sharp cheddar cheese, and some Grey Poupon mustard.
I placed them on the kitchen table. I was about to retrieve the sourdough bread from the bread box when some-
thing caught my attention. In the middle of the table was a silver pocket watch case. I do have a number of
watches, but I dont store them in the kitchen. I also dont own a pocket watch.
I picked up the case. On the front was an engraving of three stalks of wheat. The kernels where plated in gold.
Behind the wheat was a large cross, also in gold.
Yellow guilloche enamel covered the entire back side. The engraving there looked to be of a small shield with
a sword behind it. The hilt of the sword had two cross guards. Above the shield, a hat with long tassels framed
the sword and shield. There was a tiny hallmark on the neck of the case of Minerva as well as a small diamond
with initials inside that had been mostly rubbed away. I could tell there were two letters but I could only identi-
fy an S.
This case was expensive and well made. If it had been left here by a robber, then they didnt fully understand
their job. I sat down and pushed the button attached to the neck of the case. When the case opened, I immedi-
ately recognized my error; this was not a watch case but a pyxthe silver case priests hold the host in.
I understand that the host is supposed to transform into the body of Christ once ingested, but not until it is
placed in the mouth. Inside the case was a puddle of blood. The blood surrounded the tip of a severed tongue
like a tiny moat.
Some evil force was trying to get me to lose weight by making it so I would never enter this room again. Then
and there I decided I would rather dine out for the rest of my life than risk facing another body part in my
kitchen.

Then I noticed something else. Like a Satanic fortune cookie, there was a tiny note inside the pyx, under the
tongue. The note was written in brown script as though it was penned using a fountain pen and left out in the
sun for a generation. It read, Silence is Golden.
I had been sitting in stunned silence for a golden moment when the telephone rang.

Ruler of Demons
A Samuel Roberts Thriller
Scott A. Lerner

Book Description:

Human sacrifice and an impending apocalypse sure can throw a wrench in
the holiday season.

Only eleven shopping days till Christmas. And less than a week to save the world.

Three nuns--in Chicago, Paris, and Jerusalem--have been killed in a religious ritual. The
choice of victims and the macabre details of their deaths indicate that someone is following a
recipe provided on an ancient text--a recipe to unleash the forces of hell on earth. The final
sacrifice must occur on the Winter Solstice.

Samuel Roberts, a small-town attorney in Urbana, Illinois, knows a bit about the supernatural,
having triumphed at least once over the forces of evil. Thanks to a friend who is aware of
Sam's little known previous efforts on behalf of mankind, Sam is hired by a big Chicago law
firm to take on a sensitive case. His mission? Nothing less than halting the impending apoca-
lypse.

Sam and his good buddy Bob travel first to Jerusalem then Paris in a desperate race to save
mankind.


About the Author

Author and attorney Scott A. Lerner resides in Champaign, Illinois. He obtained his under-
graduate degree in psychology from the University of Wisconsin in Madison and went on to
obtain his Juris Doctor degree from the University of Illinois in Urbana Champaign.

He is currently a sole practitioner in Champaign, Illinois. The majority of his law practice fo-
cuses on the fields of Criminal law and Family Law. Mr. Lerner lives with his wife, their two
children, and their cat Fern.

Lerner collects unusual antiques and enjoys gardening, traveling, reading fiction and going to
the movies. Scott's first novel featuring Samuel Roberts, Cocaine Zombies, won a Bronze
2012 IPPY Award.
Christmas at the Gingerbread Cafe
Rebecca Raisin

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: Carina UK (Harlequin)

Date of Publication: November 12
th
2013

ASIN: B00GBZ3YD8

Number of pages: 52
Word Count: 17, 750

Cover Artist: Carina UK

Amazon US Amazon UK

Book Description:

Christmas is the season the Gingerbread Caf was made forbut owner Lily couldnt be feel-
ing less merry if she tried. Shes spent another year dreaming of being whisked away on a
sleigh-ride for two, but shes facing festive season alone again. And, just to give her another
reason to feel anything other than candy-cane perky, a new shop across the road has opened
Not only is it selling baked goods, but the owner, with his seriously charming smile, has every
girl in town swooning.

But Lily isnt about to let her business crumble the Gingerbread Caf is the heart of the
community, and shes going to fight for it! This could be the Christmas that maybe, just may-
be, all her dreams even the someone-to-decorate-the-Christmas-tree-with ones really do
come true!
About the Author:
Rebecca Raisin is a true bibliophile.

This love of books morphed into the desire to write them. Shes been widely published in var-
ious short story anthologies, and in fiction magazines, and is now focusing on writing ro-
mance. The only downfall about writing about gorgeous men who have brains as well as
brawn, is falling in love with them just as well theyre fictional. Rebecca aims to
write characters you can see yourself being friends with. People with big hearts who care
about relationships, and most importantly, believe in true love.

https://www.facebook.com/RebeccaRaisinAuthor

http://rebeccaraisin.wordpress.com

www.twitter.com/jaxandwillsmum

http://goo.gl/4GLfYz



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For other pricing and services email magcfire554@aol.com

Chapter 1
I was going to lose-again. I gripped the brass
handles on the wheel and turned the airship sharply
port. The tiller vibrated in protest making the wheel
shake and my wrist bones ache. Bracing my knees
against the spokes, I tore off my brown leather gloves
to get a better feel. The metal handgrips were smooth
and cold. My fingers tingled from the chill.
Easy, I whispered to the Stargazer. I looked
up from my position at the wheelstand, past the ropes,
burner basket, and balloon, toward the clouds. They
were drifting slowly left in a periwinkle blue sky.
Thered be an updraft as we passed over the green-
brown waters of the canal near Buckingham House. I
locked the wheel and jumped from the wheelstand
onto the deck of the gondola and looked over the rail.
The canal waters were a hundred feet away. I ran back
to the wheel and steadied the ship. If I caught the up-
draft, it would propel me up and forward and give me
an edge.
Cutter caught it, Lily, Jessup yelled down
from the burner basket below the balloon opening.
Up he goes, he added, looking out through his spy-
glass. The gold polish on the spyglass reflected the
fire from the burner.
Dammit! I snapped down my binocular
lense. I saw Hank Cutters red-and-white striped bal-
loon rise upward. At the top, he pitched forward with
great momentum, catching a horizontal wind. I could
just make out Cutter at the wheel. His blond hair blew
wildly around him. He turned and waved to me.
Wanker.
I was not as lucky. Just as the bow of the Star-
gazer reached the water, a stray wind came in and
blew us leeward. The balloon jiggled violently in the
turbulent air. I missed the air pocket altogether.
No! No, no, no! I cursed and steadied the
ship. I had chased Cutter from Edinburgh across the
Scottish and English countryside. He had been off his
game all day. Id had him by half a mile the entire
race. With the bottom feeders lingering somewhere in
the distance behind us, Id thought the London leg of
the 1823 Airship Grand Prix would be mine. That was
until St. Albans, where Cutter caught a random breeze
that pushed him slightly in front of me. Cutter had a
knack for catching favorable winds; it was not a talent
I shared.
Were coming up on Westminster, Jessup
yelled down from the basket. Lily, drop altitude.
Cutter is too high. Come in low and fast, and you
might overtake him.
The airship towers sat at the pier near the Pal-
ace of Westminster along the Thames. A carnival at-
mosphere had overtaken the city as it always does on
race day. Colorful tents were set up everywhere. Ven-
dors hawked their wares to excited Londoners and
international visitors. I could hear the merchants bark-
ing from their tents even from this far above. I fancied
I could smell roasted peanuts in the wind.
I jumped down from the wheelstand, ran
across the deck, and pulled the valve cord, opening
the flap at the top of the balloon. Hot air released with
a hiss. I kept one eye on the balloon and another eye
on Tinkers Tower. At this time of day, the heat com-
ing off of the Palace of Westminster and Tinkers
Tower would give us a bump. I looked up. Cutter had
started preparing his descent. It would be close.
I ran back to the wheel.
Angus, I need more speed, I yelled down to
the gear galley, rapping on the wooden hatch that led to
the rods, belts, and propeller parts below.
Angus slapped open the hatch and stuck out his
bald head. His face was covered in grease, and his blue-
lense monocle glimmered in the sunlight. He looked up
at the clouds and back at me.
Lets giddyup, I called to him.
You trying the Tower sling? he yelled back.
You got it.
He laughed wildly. Thats my lassie, he
yelled and dropped back down, pulling the wood hatch
closed with a clap. I heard the gears grind, and the pro-
peller, which had been turning nice and steady, began
to hum loudly. The ship pitched forward. Within mo-
ments, we were coming up on Tinkers Tower. The air-
ship towers were just a stones throw away.
I aimed the ship directly toward Tinkers Tow-
er. Just as the bowsprit neared the clock, I yanked the
wheel. The warm air caught us.
Whoa! Jessup yelled as the balloon moved
within arms length of the tower.
The sound of Ohhs! echoed from the crowd
below.
A mix of warm air and propulsion gave us some
go, and seconds later we were slingshotting around
Tinkers Tower toward the airship platforms. Gliding in
on warm air and momentum, we flew fast and low.
Cutter had kept it high, but now he was drop-
ping like a stone toward his own tower. Damned Amer-
ican. I didnt blame him; I would have used the same
move. His balloon was releasing so much air that I
wondered if he would be able to slow down in time, not
that I would have minded seeing him smash to the
ground in a million pieces.
Its going to be close, Jessup yelled as he ad-
justed the heat pan.
I guided the helm. The Stargazer was tempera-
mental, but we understood one another. A shake of the
wheel warned me I was pushing too hard. Almost
there, I whispered to the ship.
The Grand Prix Marshalls were standing on the
platform. Cutter and I had the end towers. I was going
to make it.
Cut propulsion, I yelled toward the gear gal-
ley. On the floor near the wheelstand, a rope led to a
bell in the galley. I rang it twice. The propeller
switched off.
A soft, sweet wind blew in from the port side. It
ruffled my hair around my shoulders. I closed my eyes
and turned the wheel slightly starboard, guiding the
ship in. Moments later, I heard a jubilant cheer erupt
from the American side and an explosion from the fire-
work cannon signaling the winner had been declared.
My eyes popped open. I tore off my goggles and
looked starboard. Cutters balloon was docked. I threw
the goggles onto the deck and set my forehead against
the wheel.
The Stargazer settled into her dock. Jessup set
the balloon on hover and, grabbing a rope, swung down
to the deck. He then threw the lead lines and anchors
onto the platform. The beautifully dressed crowd, gen-
tlemen in suits and top hats and fancy ladies in a rain-
bow of satin gowns carrying parasols, rushed toward
the American end of the platform to congratulate the
winner.
I was, once again, a national disgrace. Lily the
loser. Lily second place. Perhaps I would never be any-
thing more than a ferrywoman, a cheap air jockey.
Good job, Lily. Second place! Jessup said
joining me. He patted me on the shoulder.
I sighed deeply and unbuttoned my vest. The
tension had me sweating; I could feel it dripping down
from my neck, between my breasts, into my corset.
You did great, I told Jessup. Sorry I let you
down.
Ah, Lily, he sighed.
Angus emerged from below wiping sweat from
his head with a greasy rag. He pulled off his monocle.
He frowned toward the American side. Well, we beat
the French, he said with a shrug and kissed me on the
cheek, smearing grease on me.
Good job, Angus. Thank you, I said, taking
him by the chin and giving him a little shake as I wrin-
kled my nose and smiled at him.
Angus laughed and dropped his arm around
Jessups shoulders. They grinned happily at one anoth-
er.
You stink, brother, Jessup told him.
Its a wee bit toasty down there. Besides, I
pedaled this ship across the entire fucking country
while you were up here looking at the birds. That, my
friend, is the smell of success.
I laughed.
You pedaled the ship? Jessup asked mocking-
ly. Like Lil and I were just up here playing cards? If I
didnt keep the balloon aloft, your ass would be kissing
the ground.
Now wait a minute. Are you saying your job is
more important that mine? Angus retorted.
I could see where this was going. Gents.
More important? Now why would I say that?
Just because Im the one . . . Jessup started and then
his mouth ran.
Gents.

. . . and another thing . . . Jessup went on.
Gentlemen! Our audience awaits, I said cut-
ting them both off, motioning to the well-shod crowd
who waited for us on the loading platform outside the
Stargazer.
I grinned at my crew. Come on. Lets go.
I patted the rail of the Stargazer. Thanks, I
whispered to her, and we exited onto the platform.
A reporter from the London Times and several
race officials stood waiting for me.
Well done, Lily! Well done! the British race
official congratulated me with a pat on the back.
Second place! King George will be so proud. One of
these days youll have it, by God.
I was pretty sure that the last thing I needed
was the attention of George IV, the extravagant, un-
popular lush. But I bit my tongue and smiled politely.
Lily, how did Cutter beat you? You led the
entire race, the reporter asked. She was a round
woman wearing a very thick black lace collar that
looked like it was choking her. Her heavy purple
walking dress looked hot under the late afternoon
summer sun, and the brim of her black satin cap bare-
ly shaded her nose. I noticed, however, that she had a
small clockwork fan pin attached to her chest. The fan
wagged cool air toward her face.
I pulled off my cap, mopped my forehead, and
thought about the question. Luck, I replied.
Lily, that was some move around Tinkers
Tower. How did you learn to do that? another report-
er asked.
My father, I lied.
Make way, make way, one of the race offi-
cials called, ushering a Marshall forward.
The Marshall looked like someone who lin-
gered an hour too long at supper. The gold buttons on
his satin, marigold colored vest would take an eye out
if they popped. His overly tall top hat was adorned
with a ring of flowers that matched his striking orange
colored dress coat.
Miss Stargazer, congratulations, he said,
shaking my hand. The Spanish airship is coming in
now. Will you please join Mr. Cutter at the winners
podium? he asked politely as he guided me forward
by the hand.
From below there was a commotion. A man
dressed in an unusual costume rushed up the stairs.
The London constables, a full squadron of the Bow
Street Runners, chased him. When he got to the load-
ing platform, the man pushed through a crowd of well
-dressed ladies and gentlemen, many of whom were
gentry. It was then I could see he was dressed as a
harlequin. He wore the traditional red and black
checked outfit and a black mask. He scanned the tow-
ers until he caught sight of me. He jumped, landing on
the tower railing, and ran toward me. A woman in the
crowd screamed. Moments later the constables ap-
peared on the platform. The race Marshalls pointed
toward the harlequin who was making a beeline for
me.
I let go of the Marshalls hand and stepped
back toward the ship.
Lily, Jessup warned, moving protectively
toward me.
Angus reached over the deck of the Stargazer
and grabbed a very large wrench.
Was it an assassin? Christ, would someone
murder me for winning second place? I turned and ran
toward the Stargazer. A moment later, the harlequin
flipped from the rail, grabbed one of the Stargazers
ropes, and swinging over the others, landed on the
platform directly in front of me. Any second now, I
would be dead.
He panted and muttered Lily? from behind
the mask.
Stop that man! Stop him! a constable yelled.
Get out of my way! Angus roared at the
crowd that had thronged in between us.
The masked man grabbed me, tugged on the
front of my trousers, and leaned into my ear. The long
nose of the mask tickled the side of my face. Go to
Venice, he whispered as he stuffed something down
the front of my pants.
We got you now, a constable said, grabbing
him, raising his club.
The man shook him off, took two steps back-
ward, and with a jump, leapt off the tower.
Several people in the crowd screamed.
I rushed to the side of the tower to see the har-
lequin lying at its base. His body was twisted, and his
arms and legs bent oddly, contorted into three distinct
points. Blood began pooling around him.
Miss Stargazer, are you all right? a consta-
ble asked.
A man just killed himself in front of me. No,
I am not all right.
I mean, are you harmed? Did he hurt you?
I shook my head and looked down at the mangled
body which lay in the shape of a three-sided triskeli-
on. It was the same symbol that was painted on the
balloon of the Stargazer.


Chasing the
Star Gar-
den
The Airship
Racing
Chronicles
Book I
Melanie
Karsak


Book De-
scription:

An opium-
addicted
beauty.
An infamous poet living in self-imposed exile.
An ancient treasure about to fall into the
wrong hands.

Melanie Karsaks Chasing the Star Garden
takes the reader on an exciting adventure from
the gritty opium dens of gaslamp London to
the gem colored waters of the ancient world,
introducing us to Lily Stargazer, a loveable
but reckless airship racer with a famous lover
and a shattered past.

Lily Stargazer is having a bad day. She just
lost the London leg of the 1823 Airship Grand
Prix. To top it off, a harlequin fleeing from
constables shoved a kaleidoscope down her
pants, told her to fly to Venice, then threw
himself from her airship tower. Whats a girl
to do? For Lily, the answer is easy: drink ab-
sinthe and smoke opium.

Lilys lover, Lord Byron, encourages her to
make the trip to Venice. Lily soon finds her-
self at the heart of an ancient mystery which
has her running from her past and chasing true
love and the stars along the way.

About the Author:

Melanie Karsak grew up in rural northwestern
Pennsylvania where there was an abysmal
lack of entertainment, so she turned to reading
and hiking. Apparently, rambling around the
woods with a head full of fantasy worlds and
characters will inspire you to become an au-
thor. Be warned. Melanie wrote her first nov-
el, a gripping piece about a 1920s stage ac-
tress, when she was 12. A steampunk connois-
seur, white elephant collector, and caffeine
junkie, the author now resides in Florida with
her husband and two children. Melanie is an
Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State
College.

Blog: www.melaniekarsak.blogspot.com

Twitter: twitter.com/MelanieKarsak

Facebook: www.facebook.com/
AuthorMelanieKarsak

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/melaniekarsak/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/
author/show/6539577.Melanie_Karsak
Be sure to request an Authorgraph



An Interview with Marina Myles

What inspired you to become an author?

My inspiration came from reading so much. As a child, I loved fairy tales and mysteries - especially Encyclope-
dia Brown books and Nancy Drew novels. And when I got older I read every single Agatha Christie novel there
is. In college, I came across Kathleen Woodiwisss The Flame and the Flower. Writing became my new passion
and I thought it would be fun to combine romance and mystery in my books. Thus, BEAUTY AND THE WOLF
(The Cursed Princes #1) was born.

Do you have a specific writing style?

I like to bounce between the hero and the heroines point of view. (But never in the same scene, of course!)
Readers seem to enjoy the duel prospective and the characters internal thoughts.

Do you write in different genres?

Im currently working on a contemporary suspense called AlibI. Its a departure from what I normally write and
I havent finished it yet, but my critique partners swear theyre enjoying it so far. Cant tell if theyre lying!

If yes which is your favorite genre to write?

Because writing in a contemporary time period is so different for me, Im more comfortable with historical/
paranormal romances. At the same time, its fun changing things up.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

Every book in the Cursed Princes series is a twist on a classic fairy tale. And since all the heroes in the series are
immortals (werewolves, vampires, demons, and ghosts) Snow White and the Vampire made sense.

Do you title the book first or wait until after its complete?

Ive done both. Sometimes the title comes to me right away and sometimes it doesnt.


Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

I would love readers to come away with newfound faith in a happily-ever-after. True love still exists and can be
as magical as a fairy tale!

Of all the characters youve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

So far, my favorite character is Lucian Ivanu. Hes the hero in my first Cursed Princes novella, A Warlocks
Dance. (Coming Spring 2014). Lucian is charmingly self-deprecating and far from perfect, but thats precisely
what makes him sexy! Here is my favorite line from him: Sit back and let me work my magic. Im a warlock,
remember?

If this book is part of a serieswhat is the next book? Any details you can share?

There are four full-length novels in the Cursed Princes series plus two novellas (based on side characters from
these novels). Heres the entire list:

Beauty and the Wolf ~ The Cursed Princes #1 ~ Hunger and desire can twine into madness ~ Available at
all major retail outlets

Snow White and the Vampire ~ The Cursed Princes #2 ~ Which is stronger: fate or desire? ~Coming Decem-
ber 19, 2013

A Warlocks Dance ~ A Cursed Princes Novella ~ Based loosely on the fairy tale ballet, Swan Lake ~ Coming
May 2014

Sleeping Beauty and the Demon ~ The Cursed Princes #3 ~ A mysterious magician. An evil enchantress. And
a heroine whos beautiful beyond compare. ~ Coming August 2014

Christmas at Thorncliff Towers ~ A Cursed Princes Novella ~ Coming November 2014

Cinderella and the Ghost ~ The Cursed Princes #4 ~ Hes willing to do anything to get her back. Even draw
her 400 years into the past ~ Coming February, 2015

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

I just turned in Sleeping Beauty and the Demon to my editor. (Heavy sigh of relief!) The idea for the book came
to me through lots of influences: watching the film, The Illusionist, seeing charismatic magicians like Criss An-
gel and David Copperfield, and the desire to celebrate my life-long love of the classic fairy tale!

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Read. Read. Read. It builds your vocabulary and helps with the natural flow of your writing. Next, learn the
craft of writing. Yes, there is definitely a technique to be mastered. Lastly, join a critique group with at least a
few published authors. You wont believe how many things your partners will catch in your work and how
much theyll inspire you to be a better writer.

This has been a thrill. Thank you very much for having me.

Snow White and the Vampire
The Cursed Princes
Book Two
Marina Myles

Genre: Historical/
paranormal romance
Fairy tales retold

Publisher: Kensington
Date of Publication: De-
cember 19, 2013

ISBN: 9781601831002
ASIN: B00DV1ITOS

Number of pages: 244

Amazon BN iTunes eKensington Blio
Book Description:
Fog and Fascination
Alba Spencer thought her past in Romania and the dark
magic that haunted it was behind her forever. She is
one of the first female barristers now, safe in London.
But London has its dark side, too. A man called the
Ripper stalks the midnight streets. There are rumors
that her hated stepmother has found her again, sugges-
tions that the nightmares of her childhood are returning.
And with them appears the cursed Gypsy boy she once
loved, grown into a man more seductive and more terri-
fying than she ever could have dreamed
Dimitri Grigorescu has become a surgeon, a gentle-
manand a vampire. The lusts that drive his body are
scarcely under control, and even he does not truly know
what he is capable of. To fight evil and confusion, Alba
must rely only on her witsand a desire that over-
whelms her doubts
Excerpt from SNOW WHITE AND THE VAM-
PIRE

Im very grateful for Teddys friendshipand
for the opportunity to be introduced to the people hes
acquainted with. The surgeon lowered his tone.
People like you, Miss Spencer.
His words encouraged the spattering of nervous
blotches across Albas chest. Youre too kind, she
murmured. So you find this city a pleasant enough
place to live?
Pleasant but for the brutal murderer who lurks
in the Whitechapel District.
Are you referring to the killer the newspapers
are calling Leather Apron? she asked.
He evaluated her with interest yet said nothing.
I understand this monster killed two unfortu-
nates by ripping their abdomens wide open, she went
on, making no attempt to sugarcoat her words since she
was speaking with a surgeon.
Where did you hear that, Miss Spencer?
It said so in the penny dreadfuls. Oh, not that I
read them frequently
Drake raised an eyebrow.
What am I saying? She didnt normally babble
on so, but this man had lit a fire beneath her, though
she couldnt say why.
To her great relief, the doctor didnt seem to
notice her jittering nerves. Nasty business, preying on
those unknowing women, said. I cant imagine a man
treating any female that way. After all, women are
beautiful creatures to be coddled. Admired. Cherished.
Thats a lovely thought. Alba repressed a girl-
ish sigh. Its a shame the killer does not share your
school of thought.
Drake wrapped his hands around his back. I
daresay the police believe this murderer will strike
again.
I fear that is why fewer people came to your
party this evening than Teddy anticipated. The city is
gripped with fear. She paused to take a sip of cham-
pagne. Perhaps we should talk about something more
uplifting than murder.
Yes. The surgeon took her glass and deposit-
ed it on a servants tray. With his hand pressed to the
small of her back, he guided her to a quiet corner of the
drawing room. As she turned to face him, she could
smell hot liquor fumes and the scent of expensive after-
shave. Surprisingly, she found that she liked the mix-
ture of aromas.
Teddy tells me you hail from Romania as well,
Miss Spencer. What are the
chances of that?
Slim, I daresay.
Youve lost a great deal of your accent, but if I
had to guess, you are from Bucharest.
I am. How did he know?
His features darkened. It appears we were des-
tined to meet. And since we have, Id be fascinated to
know more about you.
Although Alba was taken aback by his bold-
ness, nerves propelled her to continue their conversa-
tion in a blabbering rush. I came to London when I
was fourteento live with a family friend who runs
the dormitory apartments of the Royal Operas corps
de ballet. Just this year, I graduated from law school.
Thats where Teddy and I metat Kings College. Re-
cently, Ive been assisting Teddys father, Harold Rol-
lingsworth, in the hopes that
you will become Londons first female bar-
rister. Drake completed her thought. Tilting his head
to the side, he gazed at her with admiration. Lovely,
intelligent, and a pioneer. You are a rare gem, Miss
Spencer.
The Romanians hungry stare closed the small
distance between them. Albas cheeks burned. We
hardly know one another!
Desperate to steer the conversation away from
herself, she cleared her
throat. I have yet to wish you a happy birthday, Dr.
Griffin.
Thank you. The guest of honor did a cordial
bow. But Griffin is merely my professional name.
Alba frowned. What is your real name?
Dimitri Grigorescu.
Albas limbs froze and the room started to take
on a slow whirl. Thats curious, she murmured. I
knew someone by that name in Romania.
And I once knew a girl named Alba Zpda,
Dimitri said as a curtain of desire passed over his face.
You.
His lips thinned into a familiar smile and Al-
bas hand flew to her gaping mouth. Curse my poor
eyesight! Now that she was this close to him she knew
precisely who he was: Dimitri, the handsome Gypsy
boy shed fallen in love with at the tender age of four-
teen.
Words escaped her while she gasped for air.
Life is too short to be without the ones you
love, Dimitri purred. Dont you think?
All at once, memories of the summer Alba
spent in the Balkan countryside flashed through her
mind:
The first kiss she and Dimitri shared amid a
field of white poppies.
Simona, Dimitris raven-haired friend.
And the terrifying night the three of them spent
in a haunted graveyard.
Her blood raced and the room spun in faster
circles.
Ive been waiting an eternity to return this to
you, Dimiti whispered as he slipped a dried white
poppy into her hand.
But I thought you were dead, she said before
everything went black.

About the Author:
Although Marina Myles lives under the sunny skies of
Arizona, she would reside in a historic manor house in
foggy England if she had her way. Her love of books
began as soon as she read her first fairy tale and even-
tually led to degrees in English Literature and Commu-
nications. Now, with her loyal Maltese close by, she
relishes the hours she gets to escape into worlds filled
with fierybut not easily attainedlove affairs.
Shes busy being a wife and a mother, but she is never
too busy to hear from her amazing readers.
Visit her at www.marinamyles.com
http://www.marinamyles.blogspot.com/
www.facebook.com/marinamylesauthor
www.twitter.com/#!/marinaauthor
http://www.goodreads.com/author/
show/7104310.Marina_Myles



Jolt Excerpt
He kept his head down. Like blinders on a horse his stringy hair kept the faces of the people ignoring him from
his peripheral vision. He had been out on the street begging all day and now deep into the night. With each step
his feet ached from the cold. He placed them as softly as he could, every pace agony.
He was muttering to himself, arguing with the unseen tormentors of schizophrenics everywhere.
No, no, no! I wont! You cant make me! repeated over and over again.
The rank stench of too many clothes and too few baths surrounded him, an unseen barrier between him and the
shoppers and diners rushing home.
He paused for a moment. Okay! Okay! he muttered as he approached the entrance to Odessas. He brushed
the hair from the side of his face and peered in the window. Brown teeth peeked out from behind his salt and
pepper beard when he grimaced. He sidled backwards until his back rested on a telephone pole. He wasnt
even forty years old and was worn out.
He jingled the coffee cup at passersby. Gotta quarter? Gotta dollar? Its cold out here. Gotta quarter? Gotta
dollar? Its cold out here. He remained as unseen as always.
He waited.
**********
Joel came out of the restaurant entrance. He looked to his right. Cathys home and store were only four blocks
away. He knew he should feel guilty for what he said to her, but he was only telling her the truth. She had al-
ways been jealous of his accomplishments when they were kids. She never recognized the work and drudgery
of studying every night. She had been too busy with her nose buried in some novel or glued to the television.
He had worked damn hard. She had everything handed to her on a silver platter.
He turned to his left. His own home was only four blocks away.
Gotta quarter, gotta dollar, its cold out. The wretched panhandler was at the edge of the sidewalk, leaning
against a telephone pole shaking the coffee cup at him.

Joel took another quick step towards a shower and bed and stopped. He turned. Oh man, that guy smelled.
His hand went into his pocket and fingered the change. He peered at the guy. They were probably close in
age. What kind of dreams did this guy have when he was 16? And Christmas is coming, right? Cathy had
made it all too clear he was a heartless bastardemotional misfit? He pulled all the change out of his pock-
et. Up yours Cathy. He bent over to drop the coins into the cup.
The beggars hand shot forward like an arrow, fingers clutching Joels bare hand.
You are the light. The beggars black eyes opened wide, stabbing him with their intensity.
What Joels hand splayed open from the force shooting up his arm. His feet were rooted to the side-
walk. An avalanche of fire invaded every cell in his bodyfire without pain. Time slowed. He could hear
the crackling of snowflakes crushed by the falling coins. Microscopic particles of snow glared, iridescent
and coursed through his optic nerves. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was too much. He pulled his arm but the
beggar wouldnt let go. He was so strong!
He shut his eyes from the intensity. He saw a brilliance he had never experienced before. Colors cascaded
through the spectrum before him. Violet to blue, to green, then yellow. Each one subsuming the other. Then
orange, then red.
His entire consciousness was flooded in white. Not a glaring white, a peaceful and total whiteness over-
whelmed him. Oh God, it was beautiful. All was one! One was all! Through his clenched eyes a single tear
trickled down his face. Oh!
And then gone. He was released. The suddenness almost caused him to fall backward. Stumbling for a sec-
ond, he regained his footing and watched as the beggar fell to his knees, scrambling with bare fingers to
claim the coins.
Mine! Get away. Go see her! Youll know why. Well, fuck yourself. The beggar shot him a quick look
before resuming his search.
What the hell? Every hair on his body was standing at attention, tingling. He leaned over to touch the beg-
gars shoulder, to help him to his feet. What the hell just happened? See who? Cathy?
The beggars arm swept upward, knocking Joels hand away. LEAVE ME ALONE! The homeless man
stood up, scowled at him and lurched up the street.
He took a step back. Easy Joel, this guy might have a knife. What just happened? He couldnt chase that
guy if he even wanted to. His feet were one with the Earth. What the hell did that mean? It meant something
joyful. He closed his eyes again and turned his face to where he knew the stars were watching. He arched
his back, his arms stretching out. The single tear joined by others. He opened his arms to embrace the stars
and galaxies. They were one with him and he with them. He held the universe in his heart and cried silently.
He opened his hands and felt the stardust in the snowflakes as they landed and melted.
It was all clear now. And it was so simple. How could he have missed it? Yes!
His eyes snapped open. Yes!
He straightened up. He looked at the few passersby who eyed him curiously.
Its okay, just had a moment here, he said. He smiled at them. One nodded back. They all left.
He turned and started walking. Then walked briskly. The hell with it, he started to jog. He didnt feel his feet
slide on the patches of snow. Move it. He began to run back to the lab. Ribsey would have to eat the dry kibble
he set out every morning. Sorry buddy.

Jolt
Book One
K.D. McLean

Genre: Dystopia, Paranormal

Publisher: Monarch Moments

Date of Publication: November 25 2013

ISBN: 978-0-9917995-1-0
ASIN:

Number of pages:183
Word Count: 68,572

Cover Artist: Derek Chiodo

Book Description:

JOLT begins with a touch. A touch that will either send
the world spinning out of control, or return it to where it
belongs

Joel Heath PhD, is obsessed to unlock natures secret of
an alternative source of clean, abundant and cheap energy. Its the most important research a physicist should be
doing. His single mindedness has alienated him from his peers at Queens University.

Joels potential success is a threat to conglomerates such as Devlin Energy. Phil Devlin has Joel terminated
from his position before there are any breakthroughs. Devlin will protect his companys enormous profits and
the influence such wealth buys at any cost.

On a cold December night, Joel encounters a homeless man, Charlie Maracle. Visions of impending global
slaughter, triggered by an Oil War have driven Charlie to the brink of insanity. Joels simple gesture of compas-
sion is rewarded with a dazzling insight and within hours, the LITE device is created.

Joel learns how ruthless a man protecting an empire can be. Devlins private strike team has a missionbury
this device by any means necessary. Their ferocity and speed is overwhelming.
But Charlie has also encountered four others. A young woman battered by a series of crises, a middle aged wid-
ow and a fatherless teenage boy. To each of them Charlie imparts a gift. Or is it a curse?

These five people are all that stand in the way of Phil Devlins plans one night before Christmas.



About the Author:

Katie lives in Canada near Lake Ontario with her partner Desmond. They are living the life
that theyve always dreamed about--writing, editing and collaborating on books. Both are
alumni of Queens University in Kingston and are frequent visitors to the Tyendinaga reser-
vation, where the novel JOLT is set. She has published a series of adult romance books as
well as a romantic comedy, recently released Funny Business.

For relaxation (what is that?) she and Desmond enjoy walking their neurotic pug, trying dif-
ferent recipes together (Des cooks, Katie helps) and watching HBO movies, followed by im-
mersion in their hot tub. Theres almost nothing better
than star gazing in the frigid air while being toasty
warmWell maybe skiing at Mont St. Anne is a close
second.

In taking on an epic of the scale of JOLT, Katie has
been inspired by the words of Goethe.

Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.

http://kdmcleanauthor.blogspot.ca/

https://www.facebook.com/kd.mclean.77
http://www.goodreads.com/kdmclean
Wikipedia defines Paranormal as a general term (coined ca.
19151920) that designates experiences that lie outside the
range of normal experience or scientific explanation or that in-
dicates phenomena understood to be outside of science's current
ability to explain or measure. In this rather hard core defini-
tion, werewolves, vampires and other mythical creatures do not
meet criteria to be considered paranormal. Paranormal refers to
ones experience of unusual phenomenon, rather than the unu-
sual phenomena themselves. I found that out firsthand when I
submitted a werewolf short story to a paranormal magazine.
They loved the story, but informed me the topic didnt fit the
paranormal genre.
Psychology is the study of the mind. Because the mind is capa-
ble of a great deal, including madness, its a pretty broad field.
The two come together in a highly specialized field called para-
psychology. Those of you who are old enough might remember
a television show called The Sixth Sense. It starred Dr. Michael
Rhodes, parapsychologist. A university researcher, he was al-
ways hanging about in graveyards, crypts and other spooky
places doing parapsychological research and solving mysteries.
The series only ran for a couple of seasons. I think Night Gal-
lery might have bought it for reruns.
I bet if we were all together in a room and I asked how many of
you have had paranormal experiences, between a third and half
would raise your hands. These types of things are really fairly
common. Interestingly, children have far more in the way of
inexplicable experiences than adults. This is because, by the
time weve grown up, most of the magics been drummed right
out of us. Im always grateful whenever I go to a science fiction
and fantasy convention and see hordes of adults dressed up like
their favorite SF/F characters. It gives me hope that imagination
is still alive. At Norwescon last year, I had dinner next to a
Klingon family. Mom, Dad and two children all dressed to the
gills, including blacked out faces and pointy ears.
Aside from Dr. Rhodes, what is the nexus where the paranormal
and psychology come together? To address that, we need one
more definition. The psychotherapy relationship is one place
where clients can experience unconditional positive regard. No
topic is off limits. Nothing is too bizarre. Ive told clients for
years that its their hour. They can bring up whatever theyd
like. If they want to tell me about their dead Aunt Sara and her
nightly visits, thats just fine. If they almost got into an automo-
bile wreck at exactly the same moment a dear friend died, that,
too, is fair game. Part of what psychology does is help people
put life experiences into some sort of perspective.
The depth psychologists, like Jung, were intensely metaphysi-
cal. He wouldnt accept anyone as a patient who hadnt had
their astrological chart done. Jung would study their chart, look-
ing for points of concordance between the potential clients
planets and his own. Keep in mind, Jung was an MD. He gradu-
ated in 1900 and went to work in an insane asylum long before
we had decent medications to quell the severely mentally ill.
The only weapon in his arsenal was talk therapy and he had lots
of extremely ill patients who got better. In his later years, as his
reputation for dream analysis grew, he was able to focus exclu-
sively on private patients and left the asylum behind.
In recent years, psychology has moved away from the paranor-
mal. As third party payor systems (e.g. your insurance compa-
ny) have proliferated, no one wants to pay for extended depth-
oriented analysis. What insurance wants is a highly-structured,
time-limited, cognitive-behavioral approach, which works fine
for a certain type of client with a particular type of problem.
Unfortunately, no one approach works for everyone. We are all
individuals. Some of us are more metaphysically oriented than
others. Some of us lead with our feelings. Some with our minds.
What used to be an intimate relationship between therapist and
client has morphed into a mnage trois: you, me, and your
insurance company. Probably time to move on before someone
kicks the soapbox out from under my feet!
Circling back to the title of this blog post, psychology is the
study of the mind. Paranormal refers to something unusual per-
ceived by the mind. Looking at it that way, the two fit together
nicely. Ive found my psychology background incredibly useful
writing science fiction and fantasy. I was the kind of kid who
thought monsters lurked in the closet. Now they hang out under
the bed. Nothing like the dead of night to stoke ones imagina-
tion.
Tell me your paranormal experiences. Id love to hear about
them.

The Paranormal and Psychology
By Ann Gimpel
A Review of To Catch Her Death
Author: Boone Brux

Genre: Paranormal Humor

First Sentence: Being a widow wasnt as glamorous as it
sounded.

Review:

Lisa Carron, thirty-five year-old single mother of three, lost her
husband a year ago in a car accident. She ends up working for
the same company he worked for, General Resource Services
aka another name youll find when you read it.

Nate Cramer, an actual grim reaper meets Lisa on a soul collect-
ing jobonly to discover its her collecting, much to her clueless surprise on what happens.

Hilarious dialogue and inner thoughts, brilliant story-stars, and Lisas point of view carries the sto-
ry right through to the end. Shes full of it, humorous charm and an attitude that doesnt fall short.

I needed something to make me laugh, something light, yet kept the promise of entertaining me to
the end.

To Catch Her Death does it all, and even the cover art relates what youll find inside good hu-
mor and fun reading.

Bravo Ms. Boone, your Lisa and Nateand the many others gracing your pages, like Constantine
(va-va-voom), were spot-on in plausibility, which made the story all the more appealing.

One more thing, Ms. Boone, I hope this isnt the last of your Reaper stories, I need another paranor-
mal humor fix ;) Soon, please.

Highly recommended if youre ready to laugh out loud and mean it ;)

~reviewed by Kay Dee Royal
Interview with D Melhoff

What inspired you to become an author?

Like most writers, I was (still am) a voracious reader. Picture a kid who shows up to a hockey game with The
Hobbit tucked under his armpit, or the pimple-faced teenager who would rather write screenplays and poetry
than get hammered at the next high school bush-party.

Make no mistake, I still have a lot of great friendsand my parents and teachers were kind enough to listen to
early dribblebut Im introverted, so most of my inspiration came from the books I was reading when I was
young.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

Come Little Children came from a completely unrelated poem that happened to suit the tone and the theme of
the book. And since fewer things are creepier than children in horror stories, it was a perfect fit.

Is there a genre that youd like to write that you havent tackled yet?

Crime, maybe, like something set in New York in the nineteen-thirties. Its an oddly specific and strangely ro-
mantic era for me, and Im happy to say Im already scheming something to do with that world.

Of all the characters youve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

I like Camilla (no surprise) because our humor and thought-processes are pretty much identical. When most
people are thinking about regular things, like work and school and TV, Im wondering how long it takes dead
bodies to float in the ocean.


If this book is part of a serieswhat is the next book? Any details you can share?

Unfortunately, Come Little Children is not (currently) planned as part of a series. There are too many other sto-
ries Id like to tackle before returning to Nolan; however, I will say its really hard to stop asking What hap-
pens next? at the end of your own book. I dont suppose Ive stopped myself from thinking up sequels while
taking the bus or day-dreaming in the shower, but as of right now, its not in the works.

What books/authors have influenced your life?

King had the largest influence on my style growing up, probably because I spent so much time reading his
stuff. Otherwise, Id have to give a lot of credit to various Hollywood screenwriters: Ted Eliot, Terry Rosio,
Joe Esterhaus, John August, Shane Black, David Koepp, Andrew Kevin Walker. The tight structure of Holly-
wood screenplays translates well to any form of storytelling.

When youre not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

For every hour I spend writing and reading demented stories, I spend another hour on more social activities
(perhaps as a subconscious effort to balance out my tortured soul). Broadway musicals, comedy basements,
jazz clubs. That kind of thing.

What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

Ive pretty much spilled my entire life throughout this blog tour, so theres not a lot left to share. Everyone
knows I collect Pez dispensers now, as well as my secret dream of being a Zamboni driver some day. The rest
shall remain a mystery... for now.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

Im well into my second novel already, whichfingers crossedwill be out by the middle of next year. I cant
say much, except its a summer camp horror story with a new twist. Nothing paranormal in this one, just a real-
ly sick (in the head) villain.

Thank you, Roxanne, for the wonderful tour, and thank you to the readers who followed along. If youd like to
stay in the loop with my upcoming projects, feel free to bookmark dmelhoff.com and follow the D. Melhoff
page on Facebook.

-----------------------------------
D. Melhoff is the author of Come Little Children, a supernatural thriller about a family of morticians who are
connected to a string of paranormal murders in the town of Nolan, Yukon.

Official Website: www.dmelhoff.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/dmelhoff
Twitter: @dmelhoff
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/dmelhoff
Come Little Children
D. Melhoff

Genre: Horror, thriller, supernatural thriller

Publisher: Bellwoods Publishing

Cover Artist: Carl Graves

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/nM0QAA607yo

Book Description:

The Nolan morgue is more than just an ordinary funeral home.

When their newest employee uncovers a supernatural conspiracy connected to a string of
child murders, she must use every shred of her intelligence to stop a new breed of serial kill-
er and escape the morgue alive.














About the Author:

D. Melhoff was born in a prairie ghost town located an inch above the Canadian-American
border. He credits King, Poe, Hitchcock, Harris, Raimi, and his second grade school teacher,
Mrs. Lake, for turning him to horror.

www.dmelhoff.com
www.facebook.com/dmelhoff
@dmelhoff











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The Queen of Swords: The Snow Queen of the Tarot
by Alayna Williams

One of my favorite cards in the Tarot is the Queen of Swords. She's
depicted as a woman seated on a throne decorated with winged crea-
tures. Her cloak is decorated in clouds, mirroring the storm clouds on
the horizon She holds a sword in her had, uplifted, almost as if she's
cut herself with it. She's the queen of the domain of air, over the intel-
lect and powers of the mind. A single bird flies in the distance, and
we can't really tell if the bird is approaching her or flying away. Her
expression is touched by sadness.

The traditional interpretation of the card involves an independent
woman of strength. She's a courageous woman, self-reliant. But she is
also the queen of sorrow. This card is often associated with loneliness
and disappointment. Sometimes, she symbolizes a widow. But she
bears her burdens with pride, looking to the horizon where the storm
grows.

She always reminds me of the story of the Snow Queen, by Hans
Christian Anderson. The Snow Queen is a sad, ethereal beauty
wrapped in white fur, accompanied by "snow bees" - other creatures
of air. Forever alone in her palace at the North Pole, she steals away a
little boy, Kay, from his home. Kay has been poisoned by a shard of
evil mirror, and goes with her willingly. The Queen kisses him once
on each cheek: once to keep him warm, and the other to make him
forget his life. If she kissed him a third time, she knows that he would
die.

Gerta, Kay's little friend, searches high and low to find him. Gerta is assisted in her quest by a pair of ravens,
also denizens of air. She meets many people and creatures on her way: a robber girl, a reindeer, and a woman
from Lapland. She searches endlessly for Kay. Gerta had many adventures before she reaches the North Pole.

The Snow Queen's castle is beautiful, but it's bereft of life. Within, she finds her little friend, Kay, playing on a
frozen lake. She frees Kay with kisses - not the Snow Queen's magic kisses, but the real kisses of a flesh and
blood girl. She awakens Kay from his trance and takes him home. And the Snow Queen is left alone again with
her snow bees.

The Snow Queen is a tragic figure. It's not difficult to imagine that she's lonely in her ice palace, perhaps want-
ing a child or someone to talk to. She's the villain of the story, of course, causing
Kay to forget his happy life playing in the streets with Gerta. But she's also sympa-
thetic. One can imagine the sorrow that the years of ice and solitude have worn on
her, like the track of a glacier. But she is important to the natural order of things. She
brings snow, and is the force of winter itself. She's not heartless - she did care for the
little boy. But there's something wistful about her...as if she sees the world through a
window and cannot connect with the world quite in the way she wants.

She is, in some ways, like other winter spirits in the world. The Yuki-onna of Japa-
nese myth is a pale woman with black hair who drifts over the snow without leaving
footprints. She is said to be the spirit of a woman who perished in snow. She is often
seen carrying a child. In some versions of the tales, the Yuki-onna grants safe pas-
sage or mercy, leading unwary travelers away into blizzards or saving their lives. She
is an elemental force to be reckoned with, but can melt if the man she loves discovers
her for what she truly is.

The lesson of the Queen of Swords card is that sorrow and disappointment pass.
They may weigh heavily upon us, but like the storm clouds and the snow, they give
way to the kiss of spring.
Interview with Alyxandra Harvey

What inspired you to become an author?

I started writing when I was around 9 years old. We were on a family vacation and I was very bored. This is
partly due to the fact that one of my older brothers threw my Cindi Lauper tape in the ocean. That may have
been a different family vacation actually. But regardless, I was very very bored. So much so that I was an-
noying everyone with my boredom. In a fit of self-preservation, a friend of the family suggested I write a
short storyand then I just couldnt stop! I was in love! I wrote poetry, short stories and my first (very bad)
high fantasy (very bad) novel by hand when I was fifteen years old. I remembering being inordinately proud
of my writers callus.

Do you write in different genres?

I am mostly published in the YA paranormal and YA historical fantasy genres, but I have also published poet-
ry and short stories (Urban Green Man, Masked Mosaic (Canadian superhero anthologymy story is half
about Beserkers and half about zombies and magical polar bears in Toronto, and Tessseracts 17). I also write
historical romance.

If yes which is your favorite genre to write?
I love it all but I seem to naturally fall into YA and paranormal/fantasy.

Is there a genre(s) that youd like to write that you havent tackled yet?

I am currently writing a dystopian book and having a blast. Its not really dystopian so much as YA post-
apocalyptic? Its kind of falling between genres.
Of all the characters youve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

I dont really have a favourite but Lucy from The Drake Chronicles was definitely the easiest to write. She
jumped onto the page.

What book are you reading now?

I am currently reading The Lost Sun by Tessa Gratton. Berserkers, modern day magic, road trips, Norse
Godswhats not to love?

What books are in your to read pile?

More than I can possibly list. The pile is teetering and endangering the lives of those walk too close. I expect the
dog to start barking at it any day now.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

The Bronte sisters, Jane Austen and Mary Oliver.

Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?

For A Breath of Frost (The Lovegrove Legacy #1) my playlist included:

The soundtracks to Pride and Prejudice and Emma. And Its No Good, Depeche Mode and What Gets You
Alone, The Divine Fits

For The Drake Chronicles:

Trouble by Lenka

Shes a Genius Jet

My Sweet Prince Placebo

And specifically for The Longest Night (Drake Chronicles E-Novella)

No Light Florence and the Machine

Drumming by Florence and the Machine

Heavy in your arms by Florence and the Machine

Fight Like a Girl by Emilie Autumn

Its Time by Imagine Dragons

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

The Longest Night is the next E-Novella in The Drake Chronicles. It takes place about 6 years after the last
book in the series. It has new characters but theres lots of Lucy and Nicholas and Quinn and Hunter.

The Winter Solsticethe longest night of the yearis the perfect holiday for a vampire family to gather. But
this year, Lucy and Nicholas and Solange and Kieran get unexpected guests. And they havent come to deliver
presents . . .

And

A Breath of Frost comes out on January 7th, 2014. Its a historical fantasy set in 1814 full of witches, magic,
family secrets, goblin markets and boys in cravats.
The Longest Night
Drake Chronicles
Book Six
Alyxandra Harvey

Genre: YA Paranormal, YA vampire

Publisher: Bloomsbury

Date of Publication: Dec 17/2013

Word Count: 20 000

Book Description:

The Winter Solsticethe longest night of the
yearis the perfect holiday for a vampire fami-
ly to gather. But this year, Lucy and Nicholas
and Solange and Kieran get unexpected guests.
And they havent come to deliver presents . . .


Spend your holiday with the Drakes with the E-
Novella The Longest Night, by Alyxandra Har-
veycoming December 2013!


Short Excerpt

Her sister would have told her to go for the heart.
Knowing how difficult it was to successfully push a stake through a vampires heart, especially when
that vampire was conscious, Aggie chose a different approach.
Plus, a staking would get her expelled. And she was already on probation. Again.
She pressed against a tree, trying not to feel how numb her toes were. At least December in New York
had coffee on every corner and diner windows fogged with steam. There might be coffee in Violet Hill but it
was probably made with chicory root and anyway, she was miles away from town with nothing but snow,
trees, and more snow. All this fresh air was unnatural.
Almost as unnatural as sharing space with a vampire.
She knew he was coming. She could feel it. Her heart sped up even as she told it not to. It always did
that. Callahan was on his way back home; it was Sunday night after all, and Sunday nights were family night.
Well, they called it family night but Aggie knew a mandatory curfew when she was on the receiving end of
one.
She kept her breaths shallow so they wouldnt mist in the frigid air and give away her position. Yen
had once hidden in a garbage dumpster to cover her scent so she could stake a vampire feeding off the home-
less guys living in Central Park. A little frostbite was nothing. She had two stakes, Hypnos powder in her cuff,
and a steel needle-stake in a holster under her sleeve. She was ready. Shed get him this time.
Not again.
Aggie whirled, stake stabbing the air. She narrowly avoided her best friends heart and pulled a mus-
cle in her arm for her trouble. Shit, Paige, she snapped. I could have killed you.
Paige didnt look particularly concerned. She crunched through the last of her bit of her candy cane.
Her fire-engine red hair was in two braids, woven through with silver tinsel. No one did Christmas spirit
quite like Paige. Who are we not-killing tonight? She slid Aggie a glance, then rolled her eyes. Never
mind. As if I have to ask. Your nose is going to run if you stay out here much longer.
Aggie shoved Paige down into one of the bushes and reclaimed her position behind the tree. Snow
down my neck! Paige gasped. Snow down my neck!
Serves you right. Keep an eye on that part of the forest, would you?
Paige sighed. Dont you ever get bored of this?
Its what we do. Were hunters. And anyway, Agent Wild said we have to be prepared to fight in
any weather.
Yeah, shes also dating one of the Drake brothers. Id much rather be doing that.
Whatever, so shes not perfect. The Drake brothers were unfairly hot. There was no sense in deny-
ing the obvious. She has more vampire kills than anyone else at the academy. Shed have taken Callahan
out by now.
You know, this obsession of yours is bordering on a bad teen movie crush.



About the Author:

Alyxandra Harvey lives in a stone Victorian house in Ontario, Canada with a few resident
ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners.

She loves medieval dresses, used to be able to recite all of The Lady of Shalott by Tennyson,
and has been accused, more than once, of being born in the wrong century. She believes this
to be mostly true except for the fact that she really likes running water, womens rights, and
ice cream.

www.alyxandraharvey.com

www.twitter.com/AlyxandraH

www.thedrakechronicles.com
Short Excerpt:

You are stupid, Resa told her reflection in the tiny, scratched mirror of the White Castles rose-
pink bathroom. Stupid, ridiculous, and absurd.

Shed been wrestling with her curly black hair for a half hour, and the brown eyes that
stared back at her from beneath freshly plucked brows and carefully applied eyeliner looked
more jittery than sexy. And idiotic.

First, it had been almost a week since Chan had asked her to the Saturday night community
dance, popping the question almost shyly as they hacked at the bodies of gigantic dead fish.
Theyd both been covered in blood and smelled like theyd been rolling in bait, which should
have tipped her off that anything in Dogtown reeking of romance, well, reeked.

Second, her potential date had left immediately after asking her out so he could catch an
alligator that had eaten somebodys poodle in one of those backwater houses near the swamp. He
burned rubber out of the Maderes driveway after making sure he had enough duct tape to wrap
around the gators jaws. Adequate duct tape was not an attribute shed ever sought in a man.

Christmas in Dogtown
Suzanne Johnson

Genre: Sweet Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Story Vault

Date of Publication: December 2012

ASIN: B009RBKTSG

Number of pages: 30
Word Count: approx. 11,000
Book Description:
A woman who spent years escaping her rural past learns that Dogtown, Louisiana, hides
more family secrets than just the recipe for boudin blanc..

Resa Maderes on the verge of losing it all. The boyfriends gone. The jobs history. Her be-
loved house is on the brink of foreclosure. Shell do anything to save iteven spend a long
Christmas holiday working in St. James Parish, Louisiana, helping her uncle run the family
meat business. But the community of Dogtown, which has been home for seven generations
of the Madere and Caillou families, has deep roots and deeper secrets. For Resa, going home
is one thing.

Getting out might not be so easy.

About the Author:

Suzanne Johnson writes urban fantasy and paranor-
mal romance (under the name Susannah Sandlin)
from Auburn, Alabama, on top of a career in educa-
tional publishing that has thus far spanned five states
and six universitiesincluding both Alabama and
Auburn, which makes her bilingual. She grew up in
Winfield, Alabama, halfway between the Bear Bry-
ant Museum and Elvis' birthplace, but was also a
longtime resident of New Orleans, so she has a high-
ly refined sense of the absurd and an ingrained love
of SEC football, cheap Mardi Gras trinkets, and fried
gator on a stick. Shes the author of the Sentinels of
New Orleans urban fantasy series and, as Susannah
Sandlin, the Penton Legacy paranormal romance se-
ries.



Website: www.suzanne-johnson.com

Blog: http://suzanne-johnson.blogspot.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Suzanne_Johnson

FB: http://www.facebook.com/Suzanne.Johnson.author

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5046525.Suzanne_Johnson

The Year the Cat Saved Christmas
Barbara Bretton

Genre: Contemporary romance

Publisher: Free Spirit Press

ISBN: 9781940665009
ASIN: B00FEXP44K

Number of pages: 80
Word Count: 22,000

Amazon Smashwords BN iTunes Kobo
Book Description:
Christmas used to be the happiest time of the year in the big house on the hill. But this year when the clock
strikes midnight on Christmas Day, it will all be over. Can Sebastian, a wily Maine Coon cat, find a way to
bring his people back home or will this holiday be their last?

Previously published as " Home for the Holidays"in Penguin Berkley's anthology "The Christmas Cat."
Excerpt: Prologue The Year the Cat Saved Christmas


As a rule, Sebastian endured Christmas with the good grace for which the best cats were known. He never in-
dulged in merrymaking. His self-defined role as elder statesman precluded such a loss of dignity. Instead he held
himself aloof and watched with great indulgence as his humans did the strangest things.
Once a year, around the first snowstorm, they opened the front doors wide and dragged in a big pine tree from
outside. The same people who scolded him when he came in with muddy paws ignored bugs and dirt and sap
and set the tree right smack in the middle of the living room carpet. They hung round, shiny objects from the
branches and strung twinkling lights from top to bottom. Then, when that was all done, they placed boxes tied
up with bows underneath the lowest branches.
Everyone who came to visit gathered around the tree to sing songs and drink something called eggnog and to
give each other presents that weren't half as much fun as catnip or a ball of yarn. All things considered, it was a
most puzzling time of the year.
At Christmastime a cat had to learn how to cope or he'd find himself with a Santa Claus hat on his head and a
ribbon around his neck, posing for some stupid holiday card picture that would embarrass him for the rest of his
days. The dog and the parrot were perfectly happy to make fools of themselves and wear all manner of ridicu-
lous outfits to make their humans laugh, but not Sebastian. The first person who tried to make him wear snow
boots or a bow around his neck would find himself picking kitty litter out of his teeth for a year.
Sebastian did not suffer fools gladly. Christmas was not his favorite time of year. He preferred Thanksgiving,
thank you very much, with that big juicy roasted bird on the table and lots of leftovers. When Christmas got too
loud and confusing, he retreated to his hiding place in the Girl's room where a cat in his golden years could
sleep in peace and quiet until things got back to normal again.
This year, however, something was wrong. There was no tree, no beribboned packages, no friends and rela-
tives gathered around singing songs to torment the ears of innocent cats. The Boy and Girl moped around in
their rooms and not even talk of Santa Claus could make them smile. And what worried Sebastian most was
that their parents weren't smiling either.
When it all began, the Man slept downstairs on the sofa while she had the big bed all to herself. Sebastian,
with the sensibilities of a diplomat, had tried to divide his attentions between the two of them but his twelve-
year-old legs weren't what they used to be. The stairs took their toll on his rickety knees and made him wheeze
like a bulldog, so most of the time he slept on the landing so he could be near them both.
Finally the time came when he didn't have to do that any longer, because the Man packed his bags and moved
to something called a hotel.
The dog refused to believe anything was wrong. The parrot thought Sebastian was making a mountain out of
a molehill, but Sebastian knew in his ancient bones that change was in the wind. He had been around since the
beginning and he knew how it used to be when they were happy. There had been so much laughter in the little
cottage that he couldn't hear himself purr. Now he couldn't remember the last time he'd even seen them smile.
He found himself dreaming about the little cottage where he'd first lived with them and how happy they'd
been. It was as if the cottage itself were somehow calling him back home. The Woman used to sing while she
cooked dinner and sometimes the Man came into the kitchen and drew her into his arms and they danced
around the floor. Sebastian would even get into the act. He'd wind his way between their ankles until, laughing,
they would bend down and stroke his fur just the way he liked it. Ah, those were the days....
He'd been young then and fast. A better mouser never lived than Sebastian in his prime. He'd bring his treas-
ures home proudly and place them on the front porch but she never seemed to appreciate them the way Sebas-
tian thought she should. As far as Sebastian was concerned, it didn't get much better than dead mouse.
Sebastian didn't do much mousing anymore and his birding days were a thing of the past. He hadn't gone ex-
ploring in longer than he could remember, content instead to stay close to home in case he was needed. Some-
times he thought he caught the mourning doves laughing at him as he lay on the back steps and sunned himself.
He pretended he didn't notice them waddling by, but he did. It was a sad day when a proud cat like Sebastian
couldn't catch a mourning dove but time marched on and, like it or not, there wasn't anything he could do about
it.
Not long ago a sign appeared in the front yard and every day strange people marched through the house. Se-
bastian refused to acknowledge their presence as they peeked in closets and peered under the beds. He didn't
know exactly what was going on but he knew enough to understand his life was about to change.
He hadn't seen his people together in a long time. The Man hadn't been around much since the sign appeared.
The other day Sebastian had heard his voice through the answering machine and he'd winced as the dog danced
about with delight. Poor Charlie just didn't understand the difference between a machine and the real thing. For
a minute Sebastian had wished he didn't either. He wanted to believe that his people would be together again
and things would be the way they used to, but he was starting to suspect it never would.
When the big long truck pulled into the driveway that morning, Sebastian knew it was all over. He sat in the
foyer and watched with growing dismay as the televisions vanished into the truck, along with the piano and
dishes and even the paintings on the walls.
A snowy boot nudged his flank. "Move, fatso."
Sebastian aimed a malevolent look in the humans direction but he didn't budge an inch. It was his house. Let
old Snow Boots move.
"Hey, tubs." The brown boot nudged a little harder. "I got a twelve foot couch to move. Get your furry ass out
of my way."
Sebastian considered turning the human's pants into confetti but thought better of it. Instead he leaped onto the
sofa with a surprising display of agility and curled up in the corner as if he hadn't a care in the world. He was
having trouble catching his breath but he refused to let on.
"Hey, lady!" the human bellowed. "Do something about this cat, will you?"
"Sebastian!" She appeared in the doorway. "Scat! Stay out of the moving man's way."
Sebastian arched his back and hissed. Scat? Since when did she tell him to scat? She'd never embarrassed him
in front of strangers before and he didn't like it one bit.
"Bad cat!" Her voice shook as if she'd been crying. "Don't you ever do anything right?"
Her words cut him to the quick. He jumped down from the sofa, landing hard on his paws. Pain shot up his
legs and along his back. He was getting too old for gymnastics. He waited for her to come see if he'd hurt him-
self but she turned away as if she'd forgotten he was even there. That hurt most of all.
"You gonna stand there all day, fatso?" the human asked, aiming that boot in Sebastian's direction one more
time. "You heard what the lady said. Now scat!"
Sebastian couldn't help himself. There was only so much a cat could take before he defended his honor. With
one graceful swing of his paw, he turned the moron's right pants leg into a windsock and then he marched out
the front door, tail held high. Maybe next time the human would think twice before insulting an innocent feline
who was just minding his own business.
He strutted out onto the porch and surveyed his domain.
Snow was everywhere he looked: on the porch, the driveway, all over the yard. Sebastian's whiskers quivered
with distaste. He hated snow. It was cold and wet and reminded him of baths and other indignities. Maybe if he
looked pathetic enough, she would come out and rescue him. An apology would be nice but he wouldn't insist.
He waited patiently, watching as tables and chairs and beds and tables disappeared into the big truck parked in
the driveway. It seemed a very strange thing to do and he was pondering the mystery when he suddenly remem-
bered the last time something just like this had happened to him.
The Boy and Girl had been babies then, too little to do anything but sleep and eat and cry. Sebastian would
have suggested they leave the babies behind but his people had a strange fondness for the little roundheads, a
fondness Sebastian learned to share only after they were out of diapers. In his opinion, litter boxes made a great
deal more sense.
He remembered that summer as if it were yesterday. All of their furniture had disappeared into a truck that
time, too, only back then there hadn't been quite as much of it, and most of what they had boasted claw marks.
"Don't look so sad, Sebastian," the Woman had said, chucking him under the chin. "You'll love the new
house!"
"Wait until you see the backyard, old boy," the Man had said with a laugh. "Slower birds and plumper mice
and lots of shady places to take a nap."
Was that the last time they'd all been happy? The Man worked harder than ever and was home less and less.
She worked harder too, sitting alone at the computer late at night while the Boy and Girl slept. Sebastian never
saw them curled up side by side on the sofa or dancing in the kitchen or heard them laughing together in their
room late at night.
The moving men bellowed something behind him. Sebastian scampered down the icy stairs and darted under
the porch, just in time to avoid being flattened by work boots and the big couch from the den. Snow brushed
against his belly and made him shiver. He hated the cold almost as much as he hated the three-cans-for-a-dollar
cat food his people sometimes foisted on him. At his age he should be curled up in front of a roaring fireplace
with a platter of sliced veal and gravy, claiming his rightful place in the family.
Wasn't it bad enough that the Man didn't live with them anymore or that sometimes she cried herself to sleep
when she thought no one could hear her? Now they wouldn't even have a home and everyone knew you couldn't
be a family if you didn't have a place where you could be together.
The cottage on Burnt Sugar Hill.
For days Sebastian had felt the pull of the old place until the need to see that old house again was almost irre-
sistible. And now he finally thought he knew why: the secret to being a family was hidden within its four walls
and somehow Sebastian had to lead his people back home before it was too late.

Mrs. Scrooge
Rocky Hill Romances
Book One
Barbara Bretton

Genre: Contemporary romance

Publisher: Free Spirit Press

ISBN: 9781940665023
ASIN: B00FEXXSCA

Number of pages: 240
Word Count: approx. 65000

Amazon Smashwords BN Kobo iTunes
Book Description:
Single mother Samantha Dean doesn't have time for
Christmas. Or romance, for that matter. She is weeks away from opening her own catering
business, the most important part of her plan to provide her certified genius daughter Patty
with all the wonderful things she deserves.

Except Patty doesn't want to go to a fancy boarding school. She wants a father and when
she meets bartender Murphy O'Rourke at her fourth grade Career Day presentation, she
knows she's met the man of her mother's dreams!

But can she convince her Mrs. Scrooge of a mom that it was time to give Christmas -- and
love -- a second chance?
Originally published in print by Harlequin American
Book #2 is also available now: BUNDLE OF JOY
Excerpt Mrs. Scrooge

Patricia Mary Elizabeth Dean knew all about biology and how marriage and babies didn't always
go hand-in-hand the way they did in old movies and television sitcoms. She'd heard stories about the
days when a young girl had to leave home if she became pregnant out of wedlock but those days were
long gone by the time it happened to her mother Samantha.
Sam had stayed right where she was, safe and secure in her parents' house in Rocky Hill, New Jersey.
She finished her senior year of high school and, nine months pregnant with Patty, she marched up to
get her diploma then marched back out of the auditorium and headed for the hospital in Princeton.
Five hours later Patty was born, and it seemed that from her very first breath she had been looking for
a man to be her father.
Her best friend Susan couldn't understand it at all. "My dad is always telling me I can't stay up to watch
Letterman," Susan had complained just last week. "He won't let me wear nail polish or get a tattoo or even
think about going to the movies with Bobby Andretti until I'm twenty-one. You're really a whole lot better
off with just your mom."
Patty knew her mom was pretty special. Sam was independent and ambitious and she had always managed
to keep a roof over their heads and good food on the table, even while she juggled school and work and tak-
ing care of Patty. But there was one thing Sam wasn't very good at and that was romance.
Her mom said she didn't have time for boyfriends and dating and maybe that was true but it seemed to Patty
that it wouldn't be long before she ran out of time. Patty had heard women her mother's age talking about
their biological clocks and how all the good men had been snapped up while they were busy building ca-
reers and she hated to think her mom would end up old and lonely with a dozen cats.
Not that Patty didn't like cats but . . .
And so it was that she decided to take over the quest.
There had been a few good prospects but nobody she could imagine becoming part of her family until the
day Murphy O'Rourke walked into the classroom to give his career-day presentation, and she knew her
search was over.
Murphy O'Rourke wasn't handsome, although his sandy brown hair was shiny and his hazel eyes held a
friendly twinkle. He wore a brown polo shirt with a corduroy sport coat that was frayed at the elbowsand
Patty couldn't imagine him sewing on those wimpy patches Susan's dad had on his corduroy sport coat. He
didn't have a fistful of gold rings or ugly puffs of chest hair sticking out of his shirt, and his voice didn't go
all oily when he talked to women. When Mrs. Venturella introduced him to the class he didn't try to be fun-
ny or cool or any of the thousand other things that would have been the kiss of death as far as Patty was
concerned.
He smiled at them as if they were real live people and said, "Good morning. I'm Murphy O'Rourke," and
something inside Patty's heart popped like a birthday balloon.
"That's the one!" she whispered to Susan. "He's perfect."
Susan's round gray eyes widened. "Him?"The girl looked down at the fact sheet in front of her. "He hasn't
even been to college."
"I don't care. He's exactly what I've been looking for."
Susan wrinkled her nose. "He's old."
"So is my mother. That's what makes him so perfect."
"I liked the fireman," said Susan. "Did you see those muscles!" The girl sighed deeply and fluttered her
eyelashes, and Patty could barely keep from hitting her best friend over the head with her math notebook.
"The fireman was stupid," said Patty. "He didn't even understand the theory behind water-pressure prob-
lems encountered fighting high-rise fires."
"Patty, nobody understands things like that except you."
"The nuclear physicist from M.I.T. understood."
"Then why don't you think he's the right man?"
"Because he called me 'little lady' when he answered my question on the feasibility of nuclear power near
major urban centers."
"But he was cute," said Susan. "He had the most darling red suspenders and bow tie."
"I hate bow ties."
Susan made a face. "Oh, you hate everything, Patty Dean. I think you're about the snobbiest girl I've ever
"
"Patricia! Susan!" Mrs. Venturella rapped her knuckles sharply against the chalkboard at the front of the
room. "If your conversation is so fascinating, perhaps you'd be willing to share it with the rest of the class."
Susan's cheeks turned a bright red and she slumped down in her chair. "Sorry, Mrs. Venturella," she mum-
bled.
Patty found herself staring up at the twinkling hazel eyes of Murphy O'Rourke and suddenly unable to
speak.
"Patricia," warned Mrs. Venturella. "Do you have something to say?"
Murphy O'Rourke winked at her and before she knew it, the words came tumbling out. "Are you married?"
All around her the class was laughing but Patty didn't care. This was important.
O'Rourke looked her straight in the eye. "No, I'm not."
"Do you have any kids?"
"No kids."
"Do you"
"That's enough, Patricia." Mrs. Venturella turned to O'Rourke and gave him one of those cute little
"I'm sorry" shrugs Patty had seen the woman give Mr. MacMahon, the phys ed teacher with the hairy
chest. "I apologize, Mr. O'Rourke. Patricia is one of our advanced students and she has an active curi-
osity."
"I make my living being curious," he said, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back
against Mrs. Venturella's desk. He looked straight at Patty. "Go ahead. Ask me anything you want."
"On the newspaper business," said Mrs. Venturella, with a stern look for Patty, who still couldn't
speak.
"Do you make a lot of money?" Craig Haley, class treasurer, asked.
"Enough to pay my rent," said O'Rourke.
"Did you ever go to China?" asked Sasha D'Amato.
"Twice." He grinned. "And I was thrown out once."
Danielle Meyer held up a copy of the New York Telegram. "How come I don't see your name any-
where?"
"Because I quit."
Patty was extremely impressed: he didn't so much as bat an eye when Mrs. Venturella gasped in hor-
ror. "What do you do now?" Patty asked.
"I'm a bartender."
The only sound in the classroom was the pop of Susan's bubble gum.
"Look," he said, dragging his hand through his sandy brown hair, "I didn't mean to misrepresent any-
thing. When you guys called and asked me to speak at the school, I was still a reporter for the Tele-
gram. This is a pretty new development."
"Why'd you quit?" Patty asked. If there was anything her mom hated, it was a quitter. She hoped Mur-
phy O'Rourke had a good reason for giving up a glamorous job as a New York City reporter and be-
coming a run-of-the-mill bartender, or it was all over.
"Artistic freedom," said Murphy O'Rourke.
"Bingo!" said Patty.
She'd finally found her man.
* * *

MURPHY O'ROURKE had faced hostile fire in the desert war. He had stared danger in the face
everywhere from the subways of New York City to the back alleys of Hong Kong to the mean streets
of Los Angeles and never broken a sweat.
He'd been lied to, cursed at, beaten up and knocked down a time or two but he'd never, not ever, en-
countered anything like facing sixty curious New Jersey school kids on career day at Harborfields Ele-
mentary School in Montgomery Township.
All in all, it made running naked down the Turnpike backward in a blizzard seem like a day at the
park.
They asked him about passports and phone taps. They asked him about deadlines and drug busts and
protecting his sources. Those kids had more questions than the White House press corps and he had a
hell of a time keeping up with them.
Why had he let his old man talk him into this, anyway? His father had always been big on community
participation and had agreed to this command performance a few months before the massive heart at-
tack that laid him low. When Murphy stepped in to take care of things for Bill, he hadn't expected his
job description would include a visit to Sesame Street.
Funny how quickly it all came back to you with the first whiff of chalk dust. The pencils and the rul-
ers; the big jars of library paste and gold stars for perfect attendance; blackboards and erasers and the un-
mistakable smell of wet boots on a snowy morning. Of course today there was also the hum of computers
and the friendly LCD glow of hand-held calculators, but except for a few different trappings, it was still the
same.
Even though it had been over twenty-five years since he'd been in the fourth grade, he found that a few
things never changed. It wasn't tough at all to peg that dark-haired boy in the first row as the class wise guy,
or the pretty little blonde near the window as the class flirt. The clown and the jock and most-likely-to-end-
up-at-trade-school were just as easy to pick out.
But that serious-looking girl with the bright red hair and big blue eyesdamned if he could figure out
where she fit in the scheme of things. She didn't ask the usual questions about the glamorous life of a re-
porter. Instead of giggling when he told his best "I interviewed Justin Bieber" story, she asked him if he'd
ever been married. Hell, even after he told her he'd never taken the plunge, she went right ahead and asked
him if he had kids, and she never so much as blushed. In fact she seemed more interested in knowing the
details of his after-hours life than the details of his headline-making rescue of an Iranian hostage last year.
When Mrs. Venturella introduced the lawyer"Anne Arvoti, divorce specialist"Murphy breathed easily
for the first time since he entered the classroom. He nodded at Mrs. Venturella, then was making a beeline
toward the door when a small hand snaked out and grabbed him by the coat tails.
The red-haired girl with the ponytail. He should've known.
"You can't leave," she whispered, her freckled face earnest and eager. "There's a party afterward."
"I've got a bar to run," he whispered back, wondering why he felt like he'd been caught playing hooky and
she was the truant officer.
"You have to stay," she insisted, clutching his coat more tightly. "I have to make sure that you"
"Patty!" Mrs. Venturella's voice sounded to his right. "A bit more respect for Ms. Arvoti's presentation, if
you will."
He had to hand it to the kid. Her cheeks reddened but not for a second did she look away. "Please!" she
mouthed, turning her head slightly so her teacher couldn't see. "You have to stay!"
Murphy hesitated. He hated schools. He hated school parties. He hated the thought of answering a thousand
questions while he juggled milk and cookies and longed for a stiff Scotch. He had to get back to the bar and
take over from Jack so the guy could grab himself some dinner. There was a meeting of the Tri-County
Small Business Association at 7:00 p.m., then back to the bar for the usual late-night crowd. The last thing
he had time for was playing Captain Kangaroo for a roomful of ten-year-olds.
But this kid was looking up at him with such unabashed eagerness that the rock that had passed for his heart
for longer than he cared to remember thawed a bit.
"Christmas cookies," she whispered, her blue eyes eager and bright behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "My
mom made them."
"It's only December first," he whispered back. "Aren't you rushing things?"
"Christmas can't come soon enough for me. Besides, I have a deal for you
Murphy O'Rourke knew when he had been bested and he was okay with it. She was probably a Girl Scout
pushing chocolate mint cookies. He could handle that.
"Why not?" he said, shrugging his shoulders and taking a seat near the blackboard. A glass of milk, a few
Santa Claus cookies, and he'd be out of there.
An hour, give or take. What difference could one more hour possibly make?

* * *

IT TOOK MURPHY exactly fifteen minutes to find out. The kid was some piece of work.
"Fifty dollars," Murphy said, meeting her fierce blue eyes. "Not a penny more."
"Sixty-five dollars a tray," Patty Dean stated in a voice Lee Iacocca would envy. "Anything less and we'd
be running in the red."
Murphy threw his head back and laughed out loud. "I don't think you've ever run in the red in your life.
You're one tough negotiator."
"Thank you." She didn't even blink. "But it will still be sixty-five dollars a tray. My mother is an ex-
pert chef, and food doesn't come cheap."
"Does your father have you on his payroll? You're better at this than most Harvard MBAs."
He caught the swift glitter of braces as a smile flickered across her freckled face. "My mother will be
glad to hear that."
"And your dad?"
She shrugged her bony shoulders. "I wouldn't know. The last time I saw him I was two years old."
"Two?"
"Yes," she said. "My long-term memory is excellent and I remember him quite clearly."
Murphy wouldn't have thought it possible but his battle-scarred heart again showed signs of life. He'd
grown up without his mother, and he knew that the emptiness never left, no matter how old you got or
how successful. "Yeah, well, then tell your mom she has one hell of a businesswoman on her hands."
"Sixty-two fifty," Patty said. "Take it or leave it."
"Sixty-three," said Murphy, extending his right hand and engulfing the girl's hand in his. "Not a penny
less."
Patty's auburn brows rose above the tops of her eyeglasses. "Sixty-three? Are you certain?"
"Take it or leave it."
"You're got yourself a deal, Mr. O'Rourke."
Patty gave him her mother's business card and promised that Samantha Dean would be at the Tri-
County meeting later that evening to finalize the arrangements. Feeling smug and self-satisfied, Mur-
phy grabbed an extra cookie and headed out toward his car in the rainswept parking lot.
It wasn't until he was halfway back to the bar that he realized he'd just made a deal with a ten-year-old
budding corporate shark whose mother might take a dim view of handshake agreements with unem-
ployed gonzo journalists who were now pulling drafts for a living.
And, all things considered, he wouldn't blame her one bit.

* * *

SAMANTHA DEAN stifled a yawn as the New Jersey Transit train rumbled toward the station at
Princeton Junction. The railroad car was cold and damp and it took every ounce of imagination in
Sam's body to conjure up visions of hot soup and a roaring fire. Before she knew it she'd be home with
Patty, the two of them snug in their favorite robes as they watched Monday Night Football.
"One more day," she said to her best friend Caroline. "Twenty-four hours and I never have to ride this
blasted cattle car again."
"Speak for yourself," said Caroline, eyeing the handsome businessmen sitting opposite the two wom-
en. "I rather enjoy riding the train."
Sam resisted the urge to kick Caroline in her fashionable ankle. "You wouldn't mind a trek through the
Sahara if there was a man involved."
"Try it some time," Caroline said, her dimples deepening. "You might find you like it. Men are pleas-
ant creatures, once you tame them."
Sam would rather tame a grizzly bear. At least grizzly bears hibernated six months of every year. She
could never find time in her crazy daily schedule for a man, no matter how handsome. She turned and
looked at her fluffy blond friend. "Do me a favor," she said, giving way to another yawn. "Why don't
we just pretend you gave me matchmaking lecture number 378 and be done with it?" Caroline started
to protest but Sam raised a hand to stop her. "It's not as if I haven't heard it all before."
Caroline leaned her head against the worn leather seat. Even at the end of a rainy, cold Monday she
looked superb. If they weren't best friends, Sam just might hate the woman.
"You may think you've heard it all," Caroline said, "but I can tell you haven't paid attention. Patty
needs a father, Sam."
Sam's jaw settled into a stubborn line. "Patty has a father," she snapped. "It's not my fault Ronald
doesn't care that he has a daughter."
Caroline was as stubborn as Sam. "I'm not talking about Ronald Donovan and you know it. I'm talking
about you, Sam. About your future."
"My future is fine, thank you. This time next month, I'll be open for business and from there the sky's the
limit." For two years Sam had eaten, breathed, slept Fast Foods for the Fast Lane and she was finally on the
eve of reaping the benefits of her backbreaking schedule of work and school and motherhood.
"There's more to life than your career, Sam."
"Easy for you to say. You already have a career. Mine hasn't started yet."
"There's Patty," Caroline said softly, tearing her limpid blue-eyed gaze away from the man in the gray flan-
nel suit across the aisle. "You should think about her happiness."
Sam's fatigue disappeared in a quick blaze of anger. "That's exactly what I'm thinking about, Caroline. Patty
needs more than I can give her waiting tables or typing envelopes. Fast Foods for the Fast Lane is my best
hope."
Having a genius for a daughter wasn't your everyday occurrence. Patty was quickly outstripping the ability
of Harborfields Elementary School to keep up with her. Unfortunately Patty's nimble mind was also quickly
outstripping Sam's financial ability to provide tutors, books, and advanced courses her little girl deserved
but didn't have.
Sam had no college degree, no inheritance to fall back upon, no friends in high places. What she had was a
sharp mind, common sense, and the ability to turn the simplest of foods into the most extraordinary fare.
With the area around Princeton booming with two-paycheck families and upscale life-styles, Sam realized
that all the modern conveniences in the world couldn't compensate for the lack of a home-cooked meal
made to order and ready when you were.
From that simple idea came her brainchild, Fast Foods for the Fast Lane and with it the hope that she would
be able to give Patty every chance in the world to achieve her potential.
The tinny voice of the conductor blared from the loudspeaker: "Princeton Junction, next stop!"
Caroline, elegant as always in her timeless gray silk dress, stood up and reached for her parcels in the over-
head rack. "I should be imprisoned for grand larceny," she said, sitting back down next to Sam, her lap
piled high with loot. "Three vintage Bob Mackies and a Donna Karan and I didn't have to empty my bank
account."
"I take it business is going well?" Sam asked, collecting her books and papers from the empty seat next to
her. Caroline ran an offbeat boutique called Twice Over Lightly, where one-of-a-kind designer dresses
could be rented for a night by New Jersey CinderelIas.
Caroline's broad smile told the tale. "It's going so well I can afford to wear the Schiaparelli to the TriCounty
Masquerade Ball. Jeannie Tremont will be green with envy."
"No," said Sam, searching her briefcase for her car keys. "Absolutely not."
"Absolutely not what?" Caroline asked.
"I am absolutely not going to the Christmas party."
"Of course you are," Caroline said. "Don't be silly,"
"I hate Christmas parties and I refuse to go to one where all the adults wear Santa Claus masks. I have bet-
ter things to do with my free time."
Caroline's elegant nose wrinkled in disdain. "Spare me your Mrs. Scrooge routine, Sam. It was old last
year."
"I don't ask you to forgo your mistletoe, Caroline," Sam said evenly. "Don't go asking me to run around
whistling Jingle Bells."
"You used to love Christmas," Caroline persisted. "You used to start decorating before Thanksgiving,"
"I used to wear braids and watch Saved by the Bell, too."
"You even celebrated Christmas the year you were expecting Patty and we both know what a rotten holiday
that was."
"I was seventeen." Seventeen and filled with hope and promise despite the fact that she was about to be-
come a single mother. She had decorated her parents' house from top to bottom and even lit the dozens of
tiny candles that illuminated the driveway on Christmas Eve. Had there really been a time when setting up
those tiny white candles outside had seemed so wondrous, so important? "I didn't know any better."
Leave it to Samantha Dean to fall in love with a boy from the right side of the tracks. A high school
romance with a girl from Rocky Hill was one thing; marriage to that very same girl was something
else entirely.
There would be no marriage, said the illustrious Donovan clan, not even to legitimize the baby Sam
carried. And so it was on Christmas Eve that Ronald was whisked away from the temptation and sent
west where he ended up in the United States Air Force Academy, on the road to a bright and shiny fu-
ture as a pilot.
And good riddance.
Sam had done fine by Patty up until now and, God willing, she would do even better once her catering
business got rolling.
"You should get out more," Caroline continued, as the train rattled into the station. "Socialize. Christ-
mas soirees are all part of doing business in this town, Sam."
"Well, the soirees will have to go on without me, I have ten weeks' worth of work and only four weeks
to accomplish it. Trust me: I don't have time for Christmas."
"Everyone has time for Christmas."
Sam laughed out loud. "You don't even have time for the Tri-County meeting tonight."
"That's different. The store is open tonight and Jeannie has the evening off." She narrowed her eyes in
Sam's direction. "I hope you're going."
Sam glanced out at the cold rain lashing against the train windows. "Not me. I intend to stretch out on
the sofa and watch Sex and the City reruns while Patty tackles nuclear fusion."
"Not a very businesslike attitude, Sam."
"I'm not in business yet, Caroline."
Caroline waved her words away. "A mere technicality. You should be out there spreading Christmas
cheer. I don't think you're being fair to Patty." Caroline looked altogether too pleased with her logic
for Sam's taste.
"Just because I don't turn all warm and mushy when I hear 'Deck the Halls,' doesn't mean I'm going to
deny Patty her fun."
"Well, thank God for that," Caroline murmured.
"I would have kidnapped that girl for the holidays."
"Wait until I'm established," Sam said. "In a few more years I'll have plenty of time for Christmas cel-
ebrations?''
"I certainly hope so. Christmas is a time for miracles, honey, and there aren't many of them around
these days. Who knows? For all you know, your big break might be waiting for you at the Tri-County
meeting." Caroline patted Sam's hand. "You just have to believe."
"Oh, I believe," said Sam as the train stopped and the doors slid open. "I believe in peace on earth, joy
to the world, and that not even the promise of a weekend in the Bahamas could tempt me to go to that
meeting tonight.

About the Author:

Oh, how I hate bios! All of that deadly dull information about name
(Barbara Bretton) and date of birth (June 25) and geographical data (born in
New York City; lives near Princeton, NJ), marital status (many years mar-
ried), and hobbies (who has time??). How do you gather up all of those dull,
dry facts and turn them into something interesting?

No wonder I tell lies for a living.

I considered weaving a story for you about life on a houseboat on the French
Riviera. Or maybe my years as a concubine, hidden away in a golden pleasure palace in the shimmering
desert. Then I decided to do the unthinkable and tell you the truth.

When I sold my first book and my life changed forever. I sent in my manuscript on Thursday February 21, 1982
and four days later the telephone rang and I heard the amazing words, "We want to buy your book." How I wish
you could have seen me. I was standing by the kitchen door of our North Babylon house, the picture of cool so-
phistication, as I listened to Vivian Stephens explain the terms of the deal to me. You would have thought I'd
sold a first book every single day of my life. Yes, I said. Sounds wonderful. Thank you so much for calling. I
look forward to our association. That cool sophistication hung on until I hung up the phone, took a deep breath,
then promptly threw up on my shoes.

I was thirty-one years old, unagented, unschooled, unfamiliar with anything to do with the business of publish-
ing. To put it mildly, I was in shock. My husband was working in Manhattan at the time (and finishing up his
degree at night) so it would be hours until I could break the news to him. This was too exciting to waste on a
phone call. I wanted to see his face when I told him that my dream had finally come true -- and came with a
$6000 advance!

He pulled into the driveway at midnight. I was waiting in the doorway, holding a bottle of champagne and two
glasses. I didn't have to say a word. He knew right away and the look of joy and pride in his eyes warms me
now, years later, long after the advance faded into memory.

A lot has happened to me in the years since that first sale. I've learned that this is a difficult and demanding
business (it takes a tough writer to write a tender book) and that I am happiest when I am most ignorant. I've
also learned that a good friend, a writer and pal who truly understands, is worth her weight in good reviews and
royalty checks.

I fell madly in love with Skye O'Malley in early 1982 and wrote an unabashedly gushy fan letter to our beloved
Bertrice Small. By the time Sunny answered, I had joined the ranks of the published and Sunny became friend
and mentor, guide and confidant. She has held my hand through broken dreams, disappointments, family ill-
nesses, and accepted my bizarre need to go underground from time to time with great affection and understand-
ing. Over the years I've come to understand the difference between the writer and her work, that loving the book
doesn't guarantee that I will love the author. But what a joy it is when you discover that the author of a beloved
favorite is even more wonderful and witty and wise than the characters she creates.

So this bio is for you, Sunny, for being the best of friends during the worst of times and -- even more wonderful
-- during the good times as well.

And now for the statistics:

Barbara Bretton is the USA Today bestselling, award-winning author of more than 40 books. She currently has
over ten million copies in print around the world. Her works have been translated into twelve languages in over
twenty countries.

Barbara has been featured in articles in The New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Romantic
Times, Cleveland Plain Dealer, Herald News, Home News, Somerset Gazette,among others, and has been inter-
viewed by Independent Network News Television, appeared on the Susan Stamberg Show on NPR, and been
featured in an interview with Charles Osgood of WCBS, among others.

Her awards include both Reviewer's Choice and Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times; Gold and
Silver certificates from Affaire de Coeur; the RWA Region 1 Golden Leaf; and several sales awards from
Bookrak. Ms. Bretton was included in a recent edition of Contemporary Authors.

Barbara loves to spend as much time as possible in Maine with her husband, walking the rocky beaches and
dreaming up plots for upcoming books.



The candle flickered in the subzero wind but
Anna made no move to protect it. She stopped on the
hill in front of Tromsos three-year high school and
watched the water of the fjord shimmer below. Even
though it was mid-afternoon there was no sun, just the
luminous reflection of the moon. The procession of
students continued on without her, leaving only the
fading sound of crunching snow in their wake.
You seem as eager to go to Fritjofs memorial
vigil as I am, June said, startling Anna with her sud-
den appearance.
Anna fingered the oval piece of bright orange
coral that she had carried around like a talisman since
she was a child. She usually kept it in her pocket, but
today she wanted to feel its soothing energy closer and
had it in her glove. She had never liked Fritjof, and
even though she wasnt glad he had died, she wouldnt
miss him.
She turned to face June whose cobalt blue eyes
were at odds with her otherwise Asian features. June
and her boyfriend had also been out on the mountain
when the avalanche claimed Fritjof. Im glad its not
yours too, Anna said. Id really miss you.
It would take more than an avalanche to kill
me, June said, trying to smile. But Anna could feel
her friends pain lurking under the surface.
Hey. She wrapped an arm around June to
comfort her. But as soon as her hand touched Junes

In the Arctic winter, the sun never rises.
In the Arctic summer, the sun never sets.
In the Arctic, the world is at your feet.
Chapter 1 The Circle Tightens
shoulder, a burst of energy exploded from her stone.
Anna ripped off her glove and the piece of coral went
flying. What the
June spun around, pushing Anna behind her as
if to protect her from an attack. She scanned the area,
her body tensed for a fight.
Who are you looking for? Anna pressed her
palm to dull the pain as she glanced around the de-
serted hilltop. Whatever it was, it came from my
stone.
June relaxed her stance. Are you okay?
I think so. Anna gestured towards the coral-
colored sparks that crackled in the darkness of the
Norwegian winter. What do you think its doing?
Dont know. June crouched down to get a
better look. Her hand hovered as a bright green light
flashed around the stone.
Dont touch it, Anna said sharply. Her stone
had always had a special energy, but never coral-
colored sparks. Or green flashes of light.
Its okay now. June pulled her hand back.
Look for yourself.
Anna knelt next to June. The stone was dark
and lifeless and she felt a sudden pang of loss. She
prodded it gingerly with her good hand, but felt noth-
ing. She picked it up. It was just a pretty bit of coral.
The gentle pulsing energy that she had liked so much
was gone.
Can I see it? June asked.
Anna nodded, her throat constricted. The
stone had always reminded her of her father. Its ener-
gy was something he would have been able to feel
too. The only person she had met so far who seemed
open to accepting that kind of thing was June. Every-
one else got freaked out, or thought she was crazy. So
she had learned not to talk about it.
June closed her fist around the stone. Where
did you get this? Her voice wavered.
Annas attention flicked back to June. She
never wavered. I found it in the mountains. Years
ago. Why? What is it?
A trigger.
A trigger for what?
June returned Annas searching look. I have
no idea. She handed the stone back.
So how do you know its a trigger?
I just feel it. June picked up the candles that
lay forgotten in the snow. If youre okay, we should
go.
Anna picked up her discarded glove and froze.
In the middle of her left palm was a star-shaped scar.
She stretched her hand to get a better look. It was
about the size of a dime. She touched it. Like an echo
under the fading pain, she could feel the energy of her
stone pulsing faintly in her palm.
Here, June said, offering Anna a candle. She
stopped mid-motion. What is it?
I dont know. The stone She held out her
palm. Look.
June dropped the candles and took Annas hand
in hers. Gently, she ran her fingers over the slightly
raised ridges of the scar. A Firemark, June said as if
talking to herself. But how?
Whats a Firemark? Anna examined the scar.
It was almost silvery in the moonlight.
June looked up, her fingers still on Annas
palm. Its like a living connection between two peo-
ple. But there was only the stone.
It always felt alive, Anna said, sure that June
would understand. She touched the Firemark one last
time before putting her glove back on. It was warm and
smooth.
June shook her head. But even if it felt alive, it
shouldnt have left a Firemark.
Anna shrugged. Maybe. But I like it. Anna
closed her hand around the Firemark. It felt like she
was holding her stone. She smiled. Shed never lose it
now.
June re-lit the candles again and handed one to
Anna. Ready?
Anna hooked her arm through Junes. I think
so. They walked silently through town and across the
bridge that straddled the green-black fjord.
Do you think its over? Anna eyed the Arctic
Cathedral that sprawled like slabs of a fallen glacier on
the other side of the fjord. It was lit up like a temple of
light.
June shook her head. Its only just begun.


Thats enough. Khotans voice snapped like a whip
across the barren land of Ngari in western Tibet.
Youre not going to kill her. I will.
The wind howled in agreement. Rakan bit back
the urge to argue with his father whose shaved head
and barrel chest marked him as an Old Dragon. But
Khotans massive physique belied his diminishing
power and Rakan knew that his father wouldnt survive
a fight with the female dragon they had finally located.
He had felt her power when she had set off his trigger
just a few hours before. And she was more powerful
than any other dragon he had ever met. Rakan clenched
his fists. Blood for blood. It was the Dragon Code. And
he would be the one to honor it.
You need to start a new life here, Khotan
said, his hand like a claw of ice on Rakans bare
shoulder. I will end the old.
His tone of voice, more than his touch, sent
shivers down Rakans spine. But before he could
question his father, a flicker of red caught his atten-
tion and his older half-sister, Dvara, materialized on
the sparring field. Except she wasnt dressed to fight.
She was wearing a shimmering red gown that
matched the color of her eyes and her black hair was
arranged in an intricate mass of twisted strands.
Its too late to teach Rakan anything. She
made an unhurried motion towards the targets at the
other end of the field. One by one, they exploded with
her passing hand.
We werent practicing, Rakan said calmly.
Although if we had been, youd need to start again.
You used a trigger. You didnt manipulate their struc-
ture on a molecular level.
Who cares? Her Maii-a, the pear-shaped
stone that every dragon wore to practice manipulating
matter with, sparkled like an angry flame at her
throat. Theyve been demolished. And thats all that
counts in a fight.
Rakan slid his long black braid over his shoul-
der. How you fight is just as important as how you
win.
Id rather stay alive, Dvara said. But you
can die honorably if you want.
Neither one of you will fight anyone, Kho-
tan said. Remember that.
Rakan bowed his head. There was no point
arguing about it now. But Dvara lifted her chin defi-
antly. Kraal was my father. I will avenge his death.
Khotan growled and stepped towards Dvara,
dwarfing her with his size. He held her gaze until she
dropped her eyes. Rakan shook his head, wondering
why Dvara always tried to challenge Khotans author-
ity in an open confrontation that she was sure to lose.
Khotan was the guardian of her rk, her dragon heart
and the seat of her power, and she had no choice but
to abide by his will.
Their mother, Yarlung, appeared without
warning. I will speak with Rakandzor. She crossed
her arms over her white gown that sparkled with
flashes of turquoise. Alone.
She waited, immobile, until Khotan and Dvara
bowed and dematerialized, shifting elsewhere. As
soon as they were gone, her face relaxed and she
turned to Rakan, her nearly blind eyes not quite find-
ing his. I always knew you would be the one to find
her, she purred. You have the strength and the will of
my bloodline. And the time has come for you to use
it. Yarlung tilted her face to the wind. Kraal gifted
me his poison before he died. Neutralized, of course.
But no one can neutralize dragon poison.
Kairk Kraal was a great Master. His death is
a loss for us all.
Rakan struck his chest with his fist. Paaliaq
will pay for his death with her own.
Yes. She will. And you will help me. A faint
smile played on her usually austere face. I will mark
you with his poison so that we can communicate when
necessary.
Khotan and Dvara have a full link, isnt that
enough?
You dont expect me to rely on second hand
information, do you? snapped Yarlung. She paused
and spoke more gently. Or are you scared to carry
Kraals poison?
Rakan knelt down in front of Yarlung. I will
do whatever it takes to kill Paaliaq. His voice cut
through the arid cold of the Tibetan plateau.
Yarlungs eyes flashed momentarily turquoise
and Rakan stepped back as she morphed into her drag-
on form. She was a long, undulating water dragon and
the scales around her head and down her throat glis-
tened like wet opals. Without warning, a bluish-white
fire crackled around him like an electric storm. His
mothers turquoise claws sank into his arms and pain
sizzled through his flesh. The fire disappeared and
Rakan collapsed to the ground, grinding his teeth to
keep from screaming in agony.
He would not dishonor his family.
No, you wont, Yarlung said in his mind.
Rakans head jerked up in surprise.
You have just become my most precious tool.
Her voice hummed with pleasure. You will not fail
me.
As suddenly as the contact had come, it was
gone. And so was his mother. Rakan didnt like it. Not
her disappearance. That was normal. Yarlung had al-
ways been abrupt. But he didnt like hearing her in his
mind. It was something only dragons who were joined
under a Kairk, a Master Dragon, could do. Few drag-
ons were able to survive the rush of power that hap-
pened when their rks awakened without the help of a
Kairk. But Rakan had.
He gritted his teeth and stood up. If sharing a
mind-link with Yarlung was necessary to kill Paaliaq,
then he would learn to accept it.
He held his arms out to examine the dragons
that had appeared where his mothers claws had dug
into his biceps. They were long, sinuous water drag-
ons like Yarlung. But they were black, the color of
purity, the color of Kraal. Rakan watched the minia-
ture turquoise-eyed dragons dance on his arms until
they penetrated under his skin. He felt a cold metallic
shiver deep inside as they faded from view.
A rush of pride exploded in Rakan and he
raised his arms to the frozen winter sky, the pain like
a blood pact marking his words. I will avenge your
death, Kairk Kraal. The Earth will become our new
home and your Cairn will once again prosper.

You can drop me here. Anna glared at her mothers
boyfriend who reminded her of his namesake: a wolf.
Ulf turned the car into Siris driveway and
flashed his all too perfect smile. Not unless you want
me to carry you in. Your shoes arent practical for
walking in the snow.
Anna snorted. Youre one to talk. Youre the
one driving a sports car in the winter. And she didnt
feel like having her teammates from the handball
team see it.
Ulf threw his head back and laughed. I only
take it out for special occasions. Like New Years.
He leaned towards her. Especially when I have the
honor of accompanying a lovely lady.
Youre not accompanying me. Youre drop-
ping me off.
Precisely. He pulled up in front of the house
that pulsed with music, revving his engine one last
time. He jumped out of the car and got to her side just
as she was opening her door. He offered her his arm.
And since Im a gentleman, Ill accompany you to
the door.
Anna ignored Ulf and struggled to get up
while the dress she had decided to wear did its best to
slide all the way up her thighs. Ulf moved to steady
her as she wobbled in the high heels she wasnt used
to wearing but she pushed him away. Her shoes
slipped on the icy snow and she grabbed the railing,
wondering why she had decided to wear them.
It would be easier if youd accept my help.
I dont need your help, she said, walking up
the stairs. When he followed anyway, she turned to
face him. Dont you have anything better to do?
As a matter of fact no, said Ulf. He
straightened his white silk scarf that didnt need
straightening. Ingrid wont be off work until elev-
en.
The evening was cold and Anna regretted wear-
ing a dress. Youre not coming in.
We can stand out here, if thats what you pre-
fer, said Ulf, looking up at the sky.
Randi opened the door. Anna! Finally, she
squealed. She threw herself at Anna. I didnt know
you were bringing someone.
Im not, Anna said. Hes leaving. Now.
Randi glanced at Ulf who was leaning elegantly
against the railing in what could have passed for a
golden boy fashion shot. Is that your boyfriend?
Randi asked hanging onto Anna. She looked Ulf up
and down. Is that why you didnt come earlier?
Lets go in, Anna said, trying to get Randi
back in the house.
Ulf slid an arm around Randis waist. Perhaps
I can help.
Oh sure, Randi said. She giggled as she
leaned into Ulf. You have a nice car.
Leave her alone. Anna pried Ulfs wandering
hands away from Randi who was happily wrapping her
arms around Ulfs neck. Randi, knock it off.
Oh, Im sorry. Randi pushed away from Ulf.
Hes yours. I forgot.
Ill take her, said Siri, steadying Randi. That
way you guys can come in and take your coats off.
Ulf has a date, Anna said. She blocked the
door after Siri and Randi disappeared inside. With my
mom. Or have you forgotten?
Sweet little Anna. Ulf reached out to touch
her cheek with his leather gloved hand.
Anna slapped it away. Get away from me.
Youre so adorable when youre angry, he
said with a laugh. Call me when you want me to come
for you.
Anna resisted the impulse to slam the door and
closed it calmly instead. The living room was packed
with people dancing. She rubbed her forehead and
walked over to the dining room table that was laden
with food and drinks instead. Shed never understand
her moms taste in men.
Siri came and nudged her shoulder. Wheres
the guy you came with?
Gone, she answered, rolling her eyes.
Finally.
He didnt look your type, Siri said with a
shrug. But you never know.
Hes not. Hes my moms boyfriend. And hes
a jerk.
Siris hand hovered over the massacred choco-
late cake. Thats a mess.
Tell me about it. Ulf was by far the worst of
her moms recent boyfriends. He was a liar and a ma-
nipulator. But her mom never saw beyond a pretty
face.
Siri dropped her voice. Have you seen June?
Is she coming?
No. She went away with her boyfriend and
his family for the vacation. Why? Anna asked sharp-
ly, not liking Siris look of relief.
I was worried that maybe she didnt feel wel-
come. And I felt guilty. I mean Im really sorry
about Fritjof. Siri paused. But Im starting to won-
der why I thought some of his ideas were good. I
know you never liked him. But I thought he was
right. About June being different and the need to keep
our race pure and all that. Siri looked away. Im
embarrassed I let myself believe any of it.
He was persuasive, I guess. Anna tried not
to rub it in, but she was happy that at least one friend
was coming back around.
Maybe. But I really am sorry.
Tell June after the break. Anna put her glass
up to Siris. Shell understand.
Why are you girls being so serious? boomed
Annas cousin, Red. He put an arm around each of
them. Theres music. You should be dancing. Or
arent there any nice guys?
Anna never thinks there are any nice guys.
But I see a few. Siri raised her glass and headed
across the room that had started to get crowded now
that a slow song was playing.
What are you doing here? Anna playfully
punched her cousin who was built like a rugby player.
You graduated last year. Youre not part of the team
anymore.
We told the guys that wed be back, said
Red, nodding to where his best friend, Haakon, was
surrounded by half the boys team. But we cant stay
we promised the girls wed go to a dinner party.
And theyll kill us if were late. Red and Haakon had
dominated the court with their size and skill for the
past three years, but neither of their girlfriends
played.
Im surprised they even let you out of their
sight. Anna waved a finger at her cousin who had
the same ultra blond hair and pale blue eyes as she
did. Ive hardly seen you at all this vacation.
I know. Weve been busy. But Im here
now. The music picked up again. Dance? He took
her hand and then dropped it as if he had been stung.
He grabbed her wrist and turned her palm up, reveal-
ing the star-shaped Firemark. Who did this? he
growled, his face turning the telltale shade of red that
had earned him his nickname.
Anna pulled her hand out of his and closed her
fist. No one.
A mark like that cant just appear.
Why do you care what did it?
What do you mean what did it? Red gripped
her shoulders. You were the one? Reds voice
trailed off, but his eyes bore into hers as if he was try-
ing to peer into her mind.
Anna pulled back, breaking the contact. What
are you talking about? She hadnt said anything about
what had happened on the hill and June had left town
right after the vigil.
Red laughed, but Anna could still feel his anger
like a tightly coiled snake. Nothing, he said. Lets
dance.
Dvara paced around the massive table that
filled the stone hall of Khotans lair. Why are we
waiting? Paaliaq has had more than enough time to
hide again.
That is for Kairk Yarlung to decide, Khotan
said, using Yarlungs official title as the head of their
Cairn. As Kraals mate, she had taken over after his
death.
Shes too busy with her political games to
think about it. Dvara snorted. Shes never had time
for us anyhow.
Rakan looked up from the intricate wire sculp-
ture he was making. Maybe she just wants to make
sure you wont throw yourself at Paaliaq in a hothead-
ed rage.
Im no fool. Dvara leaned over the table to-
wards her half-brother. I wont attack until Im certain
to win. But I will attack. Unlike some I know.
Rakan stood, towering over her. Whats that
supposed to mean?
Sit, Khotan said from his high-backed bur-
gundy chair at the head of the table. Both of you. He
waited until they complied. The only reason youre
going instead of one of us is because Paaliaq wont
recognize you. Unfortunately, neither one of you is ex-
perienced enough to trap Paaliaq on your own. Kho-
tan looked from one to the other. Youll have to work
together. Remember that.
But why did she set off one of Rakans old
triggers? Dvara hit the table with her fist. It makes
no sense. Even a newborn whelp would have felt what
it was before touching it.
Khotan created a burgundy colored fireball that
floated in front of him. Either she isnt Paaliaq, or
shes luring you into a trap. The stone walls reflect-
ed the warm glow of the fireball. This isnt a game.
And I wish we didnt have to send you. Khotans
face went blank for a split second as it always did
when he spoke mentally with another dragon.
Yarlung bids us come to Lhang-tso, he said, stand-
ing up. Now. Khotan disappeared without a sound,
the fireball still suspended in midair.
Dvara followed in her stepfathers trail, leav-
ing Rakan to arrive last on the silver shores of the in-
tensely blue lake that was Kairk Yarlungs home.
They faced the lake in their dragon forms. Khotan, an
air dragon, rose on his burgundy hind legs and bel-
lowed their arrival.
The blue-white coils of Yarlungs water drag-
on form undulated majestically in the center of the
crescent shaped lake. Rakan had always felt a sense
of awe in front of his mothers abode. Something
about its starkness, the pungent salty flavor of the
wind that rolled off the lake, the beauty of the con-
trasting red hills that surrounded it in the thin air of its
4,500 meter high perch had always made him feel
like he was in the presence of something profound.
He smiled and rocked back onto his own hind legs,
stretched his majestic coral wings and added his
greetings to his fathers. Neither animal nor plant life
ventured near the lake. They were refreshingly alone.
And free.
Dvara, a compact fire dragon with only the
shortest of wings, dug her claws into the ground. She
raised her jewel-like vermillion head and joined her
voice to the others.
Yarlung approached the edge of the lake and
morphed into her human form. She signaled for them
to do the same. Flashes of turquoise glinted off her
metallic white dress. Rakan knelt next to his father
and Dvara, his right fist on the center of his chest
where his rk pounded in excitement.
Rise. It is time, Yarlung said, her voice
snapping like thunder. If the dragon who set off
Rakans trigger is Paaliaq, I will savor her death.
Yarlung paused and then spoke again, more quietly.
If not, I will bind her to me by taking her rk wheth-
er she wills it or not. But I believe she is Paaliaq. Too
many things confirm it. Including the presence of a
male dragon who can only be her mate, Haakara-
manoth.
The wind howled across the lake.
From what our scouts have been able to gath-
er these past three weeks, Khotan said, she has cre-
ated the illusion of being an untrained whelp and goes
by the name Jing Mei. But dont be fooled by her inno-
cent appearance.
Yarlungs nostrils flared. If she even begins to
suspect who you are, shell kill you. Pretend youre
untrained. Take your time and get close to her. But not
too close. Only one member of her Cairn is left and she
will want to possess you both. Starting with
Rakandzor. She has always preferred males.
But the Code forbids blood relatives to have
the same Kairk, Rakan said.
Yarlung snorted. Paaliaq has no honor. Never
forget that. She turned to Khotan. Give Dvara back
her rk. Paaliaq will be suspicious if she doesnt have
it.
But the risk stammered Khotan.
Is of no consequence. Do it. Now. And then
bind her to you as Kraal taught you.
No, said Khotan. Its too dangerous.
Have you become so frail that you can no
longer master even that?
Khotan bowed his head. May your will be
done, he said, saying the traditional formula of sub-
mission to a Kairk. But Rakan could feel his fathers
anger.
Dvara tilted her chin and gave Rakan a look of
triumph. She had wanted her rk back ever since Yar-
lung had declared that he would keep his and remain
independent. But learning to control his rk had been
harder than he had let on. Starting with when he had
morphed for the first time not knowing which of the
three dragon forms he would take. But even after he
knew he was an air dragon, his rks wild power had
nearly overwhelmed him. It wasnt until Khotan had
taught him to control his emotions that he could morph
without fear of involuntarily killing himself or his fam-
ily.
Khotan walked over to Dvara, his fluid black
pants snapping in the wind. They stood still, facing
each other as equals even though Khotan loomed over
Dvaras delicate figure. Khotan began a low chant in
Draagsil, the ancient language of the dragon race. He
lifted his arms to the sky, his bare chest glistening like
armor. Energy crackled and began to circle him. It
spun faster and faster until Khotan was nothing more
than a shimmering mirage in front of Dvara. A faint
drum-like beat began, steadily increasing in tempo as it
grew louder. Suddenly, the wind died and the beating
stopped. A mass of pure vermillion energy licked Kho-
tans hands like the flames of a fire. The energy con-
densed in a flash of vermillion light, leaving a bright
red stone in Khotans palm. Dvaras dragon heart.
Khotan held the egg-shaped rk to the sky be-
fore releasing it to hover above Dvaras head. It glit-
tered like a crown jewel. My will has been done.
You are now your own master. May your will be one
with your rk.
A red flame moved up Dvaras gown, circling
her body until it reached her rk. The rk ignited in a
ball of wild energy. It spun around her in an uncon-
trolled frenzy. It was going to kill her. Rakan sprang
forward, desperate to catch Dvaras rk before it was
too late, but Khotan stopped him. No. Their reunion
cant be interfered with. It must run its course. For
better or for worse.
The rk lurched. Rakan stood ready to inter-
vene if things got worse. Whether he was supposed to
or not, he wouldnt stand by and watch her die. A
brilliant flash of intense vermillion encompassed
Dvara, knocking her to the ground.
Yarlung snorted in contempt. Tend to her.
Khotan knelt next to Dvara and touched a
hand to her forehead, healing her with his energy. She
latched onto Khotan, her red eyes echoing the wild-
ness of her rk.
Come, Khotan said, helping her to stand.
Do you accept of your own free will that I mark you
with Kraals neutralized poison and bind you to me in
a partial link?
I do.
And do you understand the consequences of
this act?
Yarlung growled her impatience, but Dvara
didnt take her eyes from Khotans.
I do, Dvara said solemnly.
What consequences? thought Rakan, glanc-
ing at his mother. But she ignored him.
Khotan morphed and sank his claws into
Dvaras bare arms. Rakan watched, horrified, as Dva-
ra writhed by the edge of the lake in a mixture of rap-
ture and agony. A black winged air dragon with bur-
gundy eyes danced on each arm before fading under
her skin.
Go now, Yarlung said, her words lingering
for just a moment after she disappeared.
Rakan
Yes, Father?
If you need to contact us, send a message
through Dvara.
Rakan nodded, confused. Didnt his father
know that Yarlung had marked him too?
Khotan disappeared. It was time.


Dragon Fire
Dina von Low-
enkraft

Genre: YA fan-
tasy romance

Publisher: Twi-
light Times
Books

ISBN:
9781606192917
ASIN:
B00ECNEZ6G

Number of pag-
es: 340
Word Count: 116,200

Cover Artist: Renu Sharma

BN Amazon ARe

Book Description:
Some choices are hard to live with.
But some choices will kill you.
When seventeen-year-old Anna first meets
Rakan in her hometown north of the Arctic Cir-
cle, she is attracted to the pulsing energy that
surrounds him. Unaware that he is a shapeshift-
ing dragon, Anna is drawn into a murderous
cycle of revenge that pits Rakan and his clan
against her best friend June.
Torn between his forbidden relationship with
Anna, punishable by death, and restoring his
familys honor by killing June, Rakan must de-
cide what is right. And what is worth living
or dying for.
About the Author:

Born in the US, Dina von Lowenkraft has lived
on 4 continents, worked as a graphic artist for
television and as a consultant in the fashion in-
dustry. Somewhere between New York and
Paris she picked up an MBA and a black belt.
Dina is currently the Regional Advisor for
SCBWI Belgium, where she lives with her hus-
band, two children and three horses.

website: http://www.dinavonlowenkraft.com/
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Dina-von-
Lowenkraft/551209381555837
http://www.goodreads.com/author/
show/7123641.Dina_von_Lowenkraft
Twitter: https://twitter.com/vonlowenkraft
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/vonlowenkraft/

Excerpt

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18,
please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: REVVING UP THE HOLIDAYS

Copyright A.S. FENICHEL, 2013

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Giada saw the light in the small window of the shop door. The last thing she expected to see when she
walked in was a sea of motorcycle parts spread from one end of the room to the other. Isaac stood with his back
to her and ran his fingers through his dark hair as he stared down at the array.

She should have cleared her throat or something, but she couldnt help admiring his tall, lean body or the
way his shoulders stretched the polo shirt.

My God, what have you done?

He turned, looked at her and his faced completely changed. From the intense face of a man with a prob-
lem, he transformed in an instant with a smile that had her blushing right down to her panties. Did his face light
up that way just for her? No, he probably did it with everyone, or at least all the women he saw. Charm had nev-
er been in short supply with Isaac Backman. She was glad to see that hadnt changed.

Mark saved my old bike. Im just fixing it up. He walked over to where she stood at the door.

Fixing it up? It looks as if youve completely destroyed it. He stood very close to her. How was it pos-
sible that after all of these years, he still made her weak in the knees?

Looks can be deceiving, Giada.

I Sadie sent me out here to tell you that your mother is here and you should join the party. Theyre
waiting on you to light the menorahs.

His eyes narrowed on her. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?

Of all the things she expected him to say, that was not even close to one of them. Why?

Why?

I mean, dont you think you should spend some time with your family? Why would you want to have
dinner with me?

Really? You dont know why?

She shook her head. She knew her eyes must be the size of saucers. I may swoon. Do women still
swoon? Some might, but Giada didnt. She stilled her emotions.

He stepped closer and leaned down until his lips were next to her ear. Ive had a crush on you since
we were teenagers. I may still have a crush on you. Id like to get to know you better. Have dinner with me.

Her heart pounded so hard, she couldnt believe shed been able to hear him at all. But shed heard
every softly spoken word and she found herself nodding her acceptance before she could make herself speak.
I get home at six-thirty. Can we make it seven?

Ill pick you up.

Not on that, I hope.

His laughter shot directly from his lips to the already wet space between her thighs.

Revving Up the Holidays
A.S. Fenichel

Book Description:
Workaholic Isaac hasnt been back to his hometown since his
fathers funeral two years earlier, pushing his family away be-
cause of a painful secret. Hanukkah and a forced vacation lure
him back to Atlanta, where hes reunited with his two lost
lovesan old motorcycle and his sisters best friend Giada.
While rediscovering his passion for both the bike and the wom-
an, Isaac rebuilds his heart.
Giada has lost her Christmas spirit since returning home to care
for her dying parents. Left alone, she struggles to return to her
successful teaching career, choosing instead to stay in her
hometown. Only the unexpected return of her high school crush
Isaac brings any joy to the season.
The transitive nature of Isaacs visit and Giadas fear of abandonment keep them from sharing
their whole hearts, but certainly not their bodies. Their desire for each other is hotter than
flames on a menorah and they take advantage of their limited time together by burning up the
sheets. But once their secrets are revealed, their hearts will do all the thinking.
On the Edge of Humanity
A Vampire Seal Novel
Book One
S. B. Alexander

Genre: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

Publisher: S. B. Alexander

Date of Publication: 12/27/2012

ISBN: 9780988776203
ASIN: B00ATVDEHQ

Number of pages: 320
Word Count: 120,000

Cover Artist: Streetlight Graphics

Amazon Apple Kobo BN
Book Description:
Sixteen-year-old Jo Mason is lost in a world where traipsing from one foster home to another is normal. She
hates her life, she hates school and on most days, she hates living. If it werent for her twin brother Sam, she
might already be dead.
Her normal world shifts one hundred and eighty degrees when she discovers her own blood tastes like candy
and her eyes change colors like a mood ring. On top of that, her eyesight seems to be failing when she spies an
otherworldly man, sporting bloodstained canines, who is trying to strangle a cop. The developments are shroud-
ed when Sam goes missing between Anger Management class and History class.

Shes called to the principals office to meet Lieutenant Webb London, a Navy SEAL who is part of a secret
team of natural-born vampires. His mission is to protect the twins from an evil cartel, but hes too late. With
Jo now under his protection, his team searches for Sam.
However, finding and rescuing Sam from the evil cartel may be the easy part. Jo learns she carries a dormant
vampire gene that, if activated, could save him. As her normal world fades even more, pushing her closer to
the edge of humanity, Jo must decide if her human life is more important than her twin brother.
With time as her enemy, she struggles to make a life-changing decision for both her and Sam.
Excerpt
A fire raced through my limbs as I sat in the princi-
pals office trying to process this new information.
Webb had said the word vampire and not just vam-
pire, but natural-born vampire. What the hell did
that mean?
I desperately wanted to runto find some-
where to hide. I squeezed my eyes shuttears threat-
ening to spill. I needed Sam. Where was he?
A hand fell on my left arm, followed by a vel-
vety voice that whispered something I couldnt quite
make out in my ear. His hot breath accelerated my
pulse, causing the blood to surge through me
awakening my limbs. I twitched.
Jo? Webb whispered.
I looked up and met his gaze. He lifted his
hand off my arm, and leaned back against the desk.
He tilted his strong jaw and peered at me through mile
-long lashes. I shifted my gaze. Tripp stood to Webbs
right with his hands cupped just below his belt.
My mouth was dry. I swallowed, taking in a
gulp of air. What do you mean by natural-born?
The word was caught in the back of my throat.
Until a week ago, I had never picked up a
book about vampires or anything related to one. They
just plain freaked me out. Now the images of the
books in the funeral home were swimming before me.
I even had two of the books in my backpack, which
was sitting around here somewhere. Between the
books, the fanged man outside the hospital room and
hearing Webb speak about vampires as if it were the
most natural thing in the world, I pinched myself,
making sure I wasnt dreaming.
Vampire, Webb intoned. Jo, youre not a
vampire yet. Right now, you only carry the gene.
Those of us who are born with the vampire gene are
normal mortals up to the time we choose not to be.
However, at the age of sixteen or thereabouts, your
body will start to go through what we call vampire
puberty in preparation for the change. He dipped his
head, gesturing at Tripp.
What the heck was vampire puberty? I wanted
to scream and laugh all at the same time.
For example, Jo, Tripp started to say.
He speaks. His voice was deep but with a gen-
tle tone.
For me, my gums started hurting when I was
fifteen. I reached puberty early. Then, at seventeen, I
discovered I liked the taste of blood, Tripp explained
as he nodded at Webb.
Like Webb, Tripp didnt look a day over twenty
-one. His sandy blond hair was cut short with the sides
shaven just above the ears.
One of the first things that usually happens is
your eyes change colors. Youll notice this when your
emotional state alters in some way. But all this depends
on your genetic make-up. Webb flicked his head at
Tripp. He craved blood to the point it became a drug
for him.
Blood, a drug? My brain couldnt wrap itself
around that idea. Were there drug dealers who sold
blood? Plus, he just described me. My eyes were
changing colors, I craved blood and my gums had
started aching a few minutes ago. I didnt know if I
should be relieved that I wasnt crazy or panicked by
the idea that I had a thirst for bloodor even worse,
that I might be a vampire.
You said I wasnt a vampire yet. Will I be? I
held my breath, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
My inner voice kept telling me to get out of here, as far
away as possible.
On the Edge of Eternity
A Vampire SEAL Novel
Book Two
S. B. Alexander

Genre: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

Publisher: S. B. Alexander

Date of Publication: 10/7/2013

ISBN: 9780988776227
ASIN: B00FPA6EW8

Number of pages: 460
Word Count: 142,000

Cover Artist: Streetlight Graphics

Amazon Apple BN


Book Description:
New vampire Jo Mason had never imagined life with fangs, or drinking blood as her main meal. She has,
however, dreamed of her first kiss, her first date and her first high school dancebut for a new vampire,
none of those firsts come easy. Humans now tempt her appetite for blood and the Plutariums, a rogue team of
vampires, want revenge against her family.
When her human friend Ben Jackson asks her to the May dance, Jo struggles to abide by vampire law. She
isnt sure if she wants to kiss him or taste his blood. Shes even more confused by the mixed messages com-
ing from Vampire SEAL Webb London. The way he looks at her makes her want to jump off the nearest cliff
and into his arms at the same time. Her guy problems, however, become the least of her worries when the
deadly ones take center stage.
The Plutariums abduct and drug her. She wakes alone with Ben, stranded on an abandoned yacht in the mid-
dle of a storm-tossed ocean. Worse, she struggles to keep her bloodlust sated and it will be a battle to see who
survives.
Webbs footsteps pulled me out of my stupor. I
opened my eyes to see him striding down the hall. His
long, crescent-moon lashes framed his cobalt eyes that
glistened every time he stepped under a hall light. He
placed his hand in his pants pocket and withdrew a set
of keys. Fingering through the clump of metal, he
readied one in his left hand. He stopped, inserted the
key into the deadbolt and twisted. Before he could
open the door, I pushed him out of the way and bee-
lined it for the bathroom. I wanted to barricade myself
in and never come out.
I slammed the door behind me and locked it. I
grabbed a small cup off the sink, filled it with cold
water and downed it. I took several more drinks, then
dropped the lid on the toilet and sat down. My tear
ducts opened and the waterfall began. I couldnt stop
crying.
Jo. Webb knocked on the door. Are you alright?
Go away. I grabbed several tissues and blew my
nose.
Can I come in? he asked.
I said, go away. I shuddered several breaths in-
between sobs.
Why the hell did he want to come in? Did he want to
talk? Ha! Now that would be funny if the irritating
vampire wanted to talk. What was he going to do?
Give me advice on boys?
Please, I want to make sure youre alright. His voice
had a soft timbre to it.
Why was everyone concerned about me? It wasnt as
if I were the queen of the compound. I was far from it.
Jo? He pounded on the door.
Youre not going to leave me alone, are you?
Not until I make sure youre
I flipped the lock. The door swung open with an omi-
nous creak.
See, Im fine. Now go away. I blew my nose again.
He stepped into the small space, and I scooted back-
wards, even though I wanted to lean into him, to nes-
tle in his embrace and have him tell me everything
would be okay. He took another step forward. The
bewitching intensity of his soul-stealing blue eyes
kept me from moving. I couldnt look away. Was he
trying to compel me? He raised his hand and wiped
away my tears with the pads of his thumbs.
Suddenly, my mouth became dry. He was touching
me, was close to me. I had no way to get around him.
I closed my eyes. My face was hot. My nose was run-
ning like a waterfall, and I couldnt stop crying. I was
a complete mess.
Theres no need to cry. Youre father is doing whats
best. Look at me, he whispered.
I couldnt pry my eyelids open. If I did I would crum-
ble even more. I was in the middle of an emotional
breakdown. I wasnt about to bare my soul to a vam-
pire who made my insides twist with excitement, let
alone talk to him about Ben. I was so thankful he
couldnt read minds.
Hey there. He lightly rubbed my scarred cheek with
the back of his fingers. Open. Let me see those stun-
ning eyes.
My stomach did somersaults. More tears spilled. I
couldnt wrap my mind around his words, his voice,
his touch, and his scent. Confusion snaked through
me. First Ben and his sweet scent, and now Webb.
While his scent didnt make my throat burn, it sure
did a number on the butterflies who were having a field
day inside me. What the heck was happening to me?
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away tears, and met
his gaze. He searched my face like he was cataloguing
every pore, every hair, and every facial detail. His gaze
finally landed on my lips and my pulse jumped.
Damn the vampire.
His presence radiated strength and power.
My hands started shaking. He had to hear my heart rac-
ing and sense my anxiety. Or was it excitement?
What did he want from me? He had my mind in a jum-
bled mess, not to mention my arms all goosebumped.
He moved even closer, which I didnt think was possi-
ble.
I couldnt breathe. Oh my God!
He dragged the backs of his fingers over my scar, once
again. You know the man who did this to you will
pay. His voice was soft, breathy.
I really didnt want to hear about my scar. It was the
last thing on my mind and a horrific reminder of a
night I never wanted to remember ever again.
Breathe. He leaned in and his hand disappeared be-
hind me.
I stilled, my heart beating uncontrollably. What is he
doing?
He grabbed the band out my hair and my freaky mane
tumbled down, falling around my shoulders. He
grabbed a few strands and placed them behind my ears.
Darkness threatened the edges of my vision as his fin-
gers tangled through my hair.
He lowered his head and whispered, Life will get bet-
ter. I promise.
Shock hit me at his words, his promise. How could he
be sure? Did he know something I didnt? Could he
read the future? Was that one of his special powers? I
wanted to scream. I was standing in a small bathroom
with a imposing creature who unnerved me, confused
me, and made my pulse race with delight all at the
same time. Was Sam right? Was there fire between us?
I shivered, and Webb wrapped his arms around
me and pulled me to him. His heartbeat pounded in my
ear as my body melted into his. This cant be happen-
ing.
About the Author:

For those of you who know me, you know the S stands for Susan in S. B. Alexander. I chose to use my ini-
tials since there were a few Susan Alexander authors out there.

The one thing I like about reading a book other than the story is reading about the author. Who is he or she?
And, how did they become a writer?

For me, its always been a passion to write a book. I love to transport myself into other worldsones where
vampires and the fantastical exist. Where life is the playground for the impossible.

I created fantasy worlds at a young age as a way to deal with life. Yep, I had imaginary friends and talked to
myself a lot. I was always creating, thinking, drawing and writing. I believe words are the key to opening the
door to extraordinary places with amazing characters that tell a great story.

My life has had a colorful journey. After high school I decided to forgo college. I enrolled in a business pro-
gram and graduated in ten months with a certificate that allowed me access to Cooperate America. But, some-
how the idea to enter into an unknown world at nineteen-years-old was daunting. Instead, I decided if the
world was my playground why not join the military, and so I joined the Navy. The four years in the military
was a great foreground to learn about life and the world around me. But, as the clich says, Life goes on.

I traded the military for college. I became a High School Math Teacher and loved it before deciding to revisit
the one thing I was frightened ofCooperate America. Ive held many roles in the cooperate arena from sales
representative to sales manager, but I never lost my passion to write.

When Im not working my full time job, and plotting my next novel, I love to play golf with my husband, and
spend time with my two dogs.


Exit
Shane Filer

Genre: YA, General Fic-
tion, Contemporary

Publisher: Biblio Publish-
ing

ISBN: 978-1-62249-142-1

Number of pages: 222
Word Count: 58,000

Cover Artist: Ekaterina
Zagustina

Book Description:

"Did you know I spent the whole of my fifteenth year
in my room?"

Briars impromptu, mid-afternoon confession stirs up
distant memories of the lonely time she spent trapped
in her home; suffering agoraphobia fear of open
spaces.

Now its six years later.

Shes free, but the year's isolation has left serious per-
sonality disorders; disorders which will resurface as
she relates her own story, and that of those in her orbit;
Melodie, a pretty valley girl who Briar desires to be,
Justine, her oldest friend, who has her own dark secret,
and Dermot, a man who thinks he's the reincarnation
of Robin Hood stealing from the rich to give to the
poor.

Slowly Dermot begins to draw Briar into his ever-so-
exciting world, but who is leading whom on their slow
descent into crime? Duel periods of Briars life inter-
twine like a rope around her neck as her lost year be-
gins to overtake the present. It leads her to the answer
to one very simple question:

Is it what I always feared am I losing my mind?

Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=wedQg_Y7dHE

Author Interview Video: http://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=WpANm1NRvkU

Excerpt G i r l T a l k
Did you know I spent the whole of my fifteenth year
in my room?
I sit in the trashed corner booth of an empty
Indianapolis diner sipping Coke through a red and
white striped straw and watch the reaction from my
two friends.
Weve been here, Melodie, Justine and I, talk-
ing, eating, and drinking for hours and were all in ad-
vanced stages of serious twenty-something afternoon
collapse. Its reached the time where you run out of
trivial, conversational-type things to talk about, so you
say something deep and personal instead.
Melodie lifts her head from the table and flicks
ash haphazardly from her cigarette in the direction of
an overflowing ashtray. Youre kidding? she asks.

No, she isnt, Justine says. Weve been
friends since school, and she knows me very well.
Elbows all over the table I cup my palms
around my chin and explain. I suffered from agora-
phobia. Thats what my doctors said. It sounds awful,
but all it means is that I had an irrational fear of being
in places or situations from which escape might be
difficult in the event of a panic attack. So I avoided
those situations. During my Dark Ages I left my bed-
room only to eat and go to the bathroom.
Basically I was worried about death. Aban-
donment. My health. My mothers safety. The house
catching fire. Food poisoning. Earthquakes. The envi-
ronment. That kind of stuff.
I tell Melodie and Justine all these things, and
when I open my mouth the words just flood out, like
Ive been wanting desperately to speak them for so
long. They sit and listen, perhaps too tired or too hot
and bothered to do anything else. I tell them about the
first time it happened... the first time I had a panic
attack. When I was thirteen. One Saturday in a mall. I
can remember the smell of doughnuts and ice-cream,
and ferns. I remember ferns. And the sound of a radio
playing that dumb Spandau Ballet song True
boy do I hate that song!
I was standing around, just hanging out with
a bunch of my girlfriends, and this boy from my class,
who I had, like, this incredible crush on, came up to
me and said Hi!
Those girls pushed me forward. I could hear
them giggling behind me, saying Briars in love and
all that junk, and my body froze like a statue. I felt
hot and sweaty. My heart was racing. I felt this numb-
ness in my hands and this tightness in my chest like I
couldnt breathe. I had this need to breathe in more
air, this need to escape. I just ran out.
Shit! Melodie says.
Shit, I agree. My doctor said later that this
overwhelming sensation of terror is similar to the
fight or flight response inherent in all animals, includ-
ing humans. No one seems to know what causes panic
attacks, but there are a lot of tell-tale signs that I had
right from an early age. I always used to cling to my
mothers leg. I was afraid of Santa Claus.
Oh yeah, Melodie says. I always hated that
old, fat, red, pervert too.
I suffered a lot of phobias back then, I explain fur-
ther. I would become possessed by a desire to clean
the bathroom. The bathroom and I would literally be
covered in Comet cleanser. But then I stopped.
Why? Melodie asks. Did your cleaning phobia go
away?
Not exactly. I ran out of Comet.
Sunlight is pouring in through the diners win-
dows and Justine keeps glancing anxiously out there
to the street. Am I boring her, I wonder? Anythings
possible she has heard this one before.
Its only then that I suddenly notice the sun-
glasses she wears at a lopsided angle on her face hide
a large bruise around her left eye. Its a horrible pur-
ple thing thats yellowing at the edges like rotten
fruit.
Oh theres Addison, she says suddenly. Id
better go. Id better not keep him waiting.
Following her gaze, I see her boyfriend climb
from his red Chrysler LeBaron convertible. Addison
Healy has tanned skin and swept-back dark hair, and
Ive never liked him. Hes far too handsome one
of those people whove never known what its like to
be alone because theres always someone new
throwing themselves shamelessly at him. Someone
whos never had to appreciate the smallest signs of
affection.
Justine scoops up her purse, quickly excuses
herself, and rushes out to meet him. Leaving a three-
quarter full Coke bottle sitting behind on the table,
shes gone almost before I can register it. Shes gone.
I watch them get into the car. Shes talking.
Explaining herself. Addison seems agitated; gesturing
wildly and I read his lips: What fucking time do you
call this? I told you to be home at three!
Eventually he throws up his arms in frustra-
tion and drives away. I turn back to Melodie.
Why does she stay with that asshole? she

asks after a long pause. He hits her, dont you know?
No?
How do you think she got that bruise on her
face?
She said she fell against the... Fuck! I hadnt
noticed... well, come to think of it, I have seen signs,
but Ive never put two and two together. Sometimes I
wonder if I am so wrapped up in my own problems
that I fail to see the suffering of others around me?
So what happened with you, Briar? Melodie
asks, toying playfully with the straw in her bottle.
With me? Oh, after my first panic attack I re-
turned to school and everyone laughed and talked
about me, so I stopped going. Slowly I found it harder
and harder to leave the house. After a while I gave up
entirely.
When I did eventually emerge from my
room, a week shy of my sixteenth birthday, it wasnt
like a beautiful butterfly emerging triumphantly from
her chrysalis, but instead a tired gray moth treading
cautiously into the light.
My doctor once speculated that my years
hibernation was due to an irrational fear of growing
up, but thats not right! If I really didnt want to grow
up there are much more reliable methods: sleeping
pills, guns, razorblades...
God, so how did you, like, get out of it?
My brother. My brother helped me. Helped
me help myself, I guess.
Is this Jeff twenty-seven and still living at
home?
No, its Paul twenty and away at college.
You havent met... oh shit!
And I suddenly remember: Pauls arriving
home today and I said Id go with Mom to meet him at
the airport. As the afternoon dissolved Ive lost track
of time.
Is he cute? Melodie asks as we slip from the
diner out onto the pavement.
I can only nod yes.
Can I come too?
No! Ill see you later! Melodie is super beau-
tiful. When I first saw her, I wanted to see her again. I
hardly ever see really beautiful females. I see pretty
ones, hot ones, but hardly ever see a woman that just
makes me turn my head and think wow she is stun-
ning. I think that people who are attractive just want
the world to see something other than their looks. They
want other aspects of their personality to shine
through. I hate boring people. I hate boring guys. I feel
like sometimes if I just be really quirky it will compen-
sate for my lack of looks. Of course this never works.
About the Au-
thor:
Shane Filer writes
novels and comics.
He lives in New
Zealand with a
very old Tonkinese
cat. He likes orang-
es, orange juice,
and orange furni-
ture in fact even
the color orange.
Why? Well, be-
cause it's the best
color, of course. While he believes that being a
grown up is not all it's cracked up to be, he still
enjoys ruining his appetite before dinner, and
staying up past his bed time.
www.shanefiler.com
www.facebook.com/shanecfiler
www.twitter.com/shane_filer
https://www.goodreads.com/author/
show/7365723.Shane_Filer

Interview with Laurie Olerich

What inspired you to become an author?

I spent years doing the practical things I thought I was supposed to do. I finished a degree, got a secure job, and
saved money for emergencies. One day I realized I was frozen in a rut and bored out of my mind. Since Im a
single mom, grabbing a backpack and traveling around the planet was out of the question. I tried to find an es-
cape in books but nothing scratched the itch. I didnt quite like fantasy and traditional romances only reminded
me that I wasnt dating. Thrillers were too compact and over too soon. I wanted a new world to explore and live
in for a while. So I decided to create my own world and adventures. By the time I was halfway through with Pri-
mani, I was hooked. Writing is the great escape!

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

I wanted the characters to have a unique name that reflected their roots. Primani is an old Latin word that means
roughly soldiers of the First Legion. I could have just called them guardians, soldiers, mercenaries, or some-
thing similar, but Primani has a mysterious ring to it. Sean, Dec, and Killian are older than they seem--the Pri-
mani in general are an ancient group. I hope the name hints at that.

Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your
own life?

Yes! A lot of the outdoor scenes come from my own experiences. I lived in New York for years and spent tons of
time in those mountains hiking, skiing, and setting up bonfires. The bear and the bonfire is a true story. Domino,
the Dalmatian, is a compilation of three of the Dals Ive owned over the years. I wish I could claim to have
known someone like Sean, but sadly, hes all imagination!

What book are you reading now?

Possession by J.R. Ward.

What is your current work in progress or upcoming projects?

Im so excited to say I just sent Stone Angels to my editor. This is the third book in the series and really wraps up
the mysteries Ive built across Primani and Call the Lightning. Readers may notice this story switches back and
forth between Micas and the male characters points of view. It was fabulous writing from the guys view! They
hide so much of themselves from Mica in the first two books. In SA, you really get to know them.


Can you share a little of your current work with us?

Absolutely! Without spoiling the plot, Ill say that all of the characters come to a crossroads they dont see com-
ing. Each must choose and choose wisely. Interconnected like never before, each decision can destroy someone
they love. I think Ive tortured them all just a little bit! Heres a little nugget:

His eyes swiveled sharply to mine and I caught my breath. Brilliantly blue and intense on a good day, they were
nearly black now. Flat and coldand lost. The dim light cast eerie shadows across his cheekbones, making him
somehow harder, more dangerous, feral.

Dont push me, Mica. You wont like where it takes me. His eyes traveled over my face and lingered on my
mouth.

I licked my lips and looked away. What was he thinking? Once upon a time, I knew. Now, his face was blank,
giving nothing away.

Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

Diana Gabaldon is my favorite author. I love that her books take me across years and continents while keeping
Jamie and Claires relationship as the one constant in the stories. I get really bored with traditional romances.
Her books sweep me up in a whole world of people and the focus isnt always on Jamie and Claire. I also love
her sense of humor that comes across in her writing. Shes been a huge influence on my style.

Who designed the cover of your latest book?

My very talented friend, Angela Bauer, designs and produces all of my cover art and marketing materials. Shes
gifted and always comes up with beautiful designs that capture the essence of my work. I am truly blessed to
have her support!

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Keep focused and keep writing! Ive met several people who say theyve started a book but havent finished it.
My advice is to set aside a block of time each day (or whatever you can manage) to lock yourself in with your
computer. I find that its easy to lose my train of thought if I take too much time off. I end up having to re-read
the previous chapter to remember what I was doing. This is hard and takes up valuable writing time. So if you
want to finish that book, make a date with your computer and dont stand it up!

Primani
Book One
Laurie Olerich

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

ISBN: 978-1492124849

Number of pages: 432
Word Count: 99,582

Cover Artist: Angela Bauer

Amazon Kindle

Amazon Print

Book Description:
Mica Thomas is Sean O'Cahan's worst nightmare. Part angel, all Primani, he's a ruthless protec-
tor with unusual talents. Jaded by the weakness of humans, he takes a hands-off approach to his
charges. His job's to protect her. That's all. But Mica's got other ideas. He's strong, but she's
stronger. Will his one moment of weakness destroy them both?
Mica doesnt believe in quaint notions of fate and destiny. Shes a live-in-the-moment kind of
girl until shes attacked and left for dead. When Sean and his friends appear out of thin air to res-
cue her, Mica knows theres more to them than theyre saying. Secrets and lies pile up but she
cant walk away from him.
As the clock ticks, Mica is drawn deeper into the Primani world until theres no way out.
Tick-tock. Time is running out. What happens when it does?

Short Excerpt:
It was about time to go out. Ricki and Dani were coming over to get me in a little while. I was finishing my hair
and looking at my face critically. Was my nose crooked? I peered closer at my reflection. Mm, maybe it was
okay. All traces of bruises were gone. The heart shape of my face was back and my lips were full from good
genes instead of blood clots. I looked at my eyes for changes. Wide and tilted up at the outside, they shone dark
blue in the mirror. They still had a shuttered look to them. I wasnt quite healed. I forced a happy smile that
would reach my eyes. Ugh! Thats worse. I look like a crazy person. Better to keep the smile small. I would just
hope no one paid much attention to my eyes.
A movement caught my eye in the mirror. I spun around but the room was empty. Carefully, I snatched up my
hairspray and crept around the corner. If someone was in here, they would get a rude surprise. I was armed this
time! But I didnt hear anything and I didnt really sense anyone else. I must have imagined the dark-haired boy
in the hall. At least it didnt look like Scott Flynn. Maybe I needed a dog.
The party was huge. We were out in the country at Danis friend Angels house. Her parents had gone skiing and
left the house to her. We were glad to keep her companyall 100 of her best friends. I hadnt been to a party
since my going away party last summer. After my moms funeral, I stayed with my sister until I finished school.
It was horrible but my friends helped a lot. They kept me busy on the weekends and then threw a huge drunken
bash for me before I left in June. It was the party to end all parties. I came very close to losing my virginity that
night but was saved the trouble by the police after the neighbors complained. Marc was devastated.

Poor baby!
It had been a long time since I had been to a party. I was ready to have some fun tonight. I kept trying to push
that half-seen face from my hallway out of my head, but he kept intruding anyway. I was making my way from
the pool house back inside when I saw him again.
I stopped in my tracks and stared. Whoa!
Who are these guys?
Ive never seen them before. There were two ridiculously gorgeous guys standing in the shadows near a covered
walkway. They were talking intently to each other and seemed to be scanning the crowd for someone. Theres
no way they were partying. No possible way--they were way too intense. They reminded me of Secret Service
agents, but without the suits. Instinctively, I crouched behind a snow-covered shrub and watched them. The tall-
er one seemed to be chewing out the shorter one. The shorter one was listening and nodding his head. He looked
unhappy. I couldnt help but stare. It was him!
He had short hair and a hard face. It was too strongtoo mature for a teenager. I could see his cheekbones from
here. I couldnt make out his eyes though. He looked as if he was about to kick someones ass or take over a
small country. He stood tensely, listening to the other one. His shoulders were squared back and tugged against
the t-shirt he was wearing. Taking advantage of my invisibility, I let my eyes wander over the rest of his body.
Glancing down at his arms, I did a little swoon and kept going. Sadly, his good parts were hidden in the shad-
ows. Oh, yum!
He was hot. But what was he doing here? Was he really in my house earlier? Thats impossible.
Find her! The wind shifted and the harsh words drifted clearly. The taller one gestured towards the house. He
had the same military look to him, but he was bigger and much more intimidating. He was more bulky in the
shoulders but had a lean torso and a nice butt. I imagined he had amazing abs. Yes, he was gorgeous but looked
mean. There was something about the set of his jaw that said hed take no crap from anyone. What were they
doing here? A small shiver went down my back and I started to look for an exit.
Mica! There you are! Weve been looking for you. Come back inside. Someone found a karaoke machine.
Tylers voice interrupted my spying. Smiling impatiently, he reached out to grab my arm and I flinched. He held
out a hand and said, Hey, my bad. Im sorry, dude!
The strangers zeroed in on me like I was standing in a spotlight. Both sets of eyes pinned me to the ground and I
froze like a baby deer. While Tyler babbled about karaoke, I watched them watch me. Both stared so intently
that I was afraid I would burst into flames. They seemed to know me. How was that possible? Who were these
guys? The big one said something to the shorter one and they started moving my direction. The big one moved
like he was stalking prey. I yelped and bolted back to the house. I was striving for a dignified retreat but knock-
ing people out of the way kind of ruined it.
Whats with you? You look like youve seen a ghost. Tyler skidded to a halt beside me.
I laughed shakily. Did you see those guys?
What guys?

The two guys who were standing across from us outside! You didnt see them? They were coming over to us.
Tyler looked down his long nose and said, Dude, I didnt see anyone but you standing behind a bush. I think
you need another beer. He put a new beer in my hand and clinked his bottle against mine in a toast.
I stayed inside the rest of the night and kept close to my friends. I kept a lookout for the secret agents as I nick-
named them. I didnt see them again. Maybe I had imagined the whole thing? It seemed so real though. It was
really late when it was time to go home. Ricki was pretty wasted so I was driving. I wasnt exactly sober and my
dad would kill me if he knew I was driving. But hey, I had a new philosophy: I would die when it was my turn.
In the meantime, I would live life how I wanted and wed just see how things turned out. Aric and Dani walked
us to the car and helped Ricki into the backseat. Aric made sure she had a seatbelt on and asked me how I was
doing.
Oh, Im fine. I dont feel buzzed at all. Dont worry about us.
He looked dubious and told me to drive slowly because the roads were slippery. I only had to drive about 30
miles to get us home. Ricki fell asleep before we turned onto the main highway and it was unnaturally quiet. I
turned on the stereo and sung disjointedly to a Lady GaGa song that I barely knew. Tapping my fingers on the
steering wheel, I yawned. The miles mocked me as we crept along in the snow. I wasnt even sure we were really
movingMy feet were freezing so I turned the heater on. Before long, the car was toasty warm and so were my
eyes. Blinking to stay awake, I shifted forward to lean on the steering wheel and focus better on the road. Not
one of my better ideas. The woods were dark around us and the falling snow obscured everything. It was like
driving in a black and white tunnel. My eyes closed and I blinked hard again. The snow was so pretty bouncing
off my window. It was mesmerizingI was drifting off to sleep when the car started to slide and abruptly
stopped. The bump jolted me awake and I looked around in astonishment. I wasnt alone. I wasnt even driving. I
was in the passenger seat.
What the hell? How did you get here?
The Secret Agent Man from the party looked at me with snapping eyes. Are you crazy? You almost died back
there! Do you know how close you came to wrapping this car around a tree? His hands flew as he yelled and I
cringed away from him. Taking a deep breath, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. Calm down; Im not
going to hurt you, he hissed impatiently and wrapped his big hand around mine before I could protest.
About the Author:
Laurie Olerich is the author of the new Primani series. Part urban fantasy, part romance, part par-
anormal...Three things she cant live without! Laurie spent
most of her life in the Northeastern United States and in
Western Europe. She now lives in San Antonio, Texas,
with her son and Dalmatian duo, Domino and Rambo.
Desperate to escape the heat, she lives vicariously through
Mica and her Primani by setting their adventures in the
mountain coolness of New England and the rainy days of
London. Before throwing caution to the wind and diving
into a writing career, Laurie dedicated 20 years to her
country by serving in the United States Air Force. Much of
her time was spent around men with guns and cool
toys...this explains her obsession with both.


An Interview with Gretchen S.B.

What inspired you to become an author?

I don't know really. I was creating stories as far back as anyone can remember. I've always loved the idea
of entertaining people and enjoyed creating a world and inviting people in for a visit. When I was growing up I
wanted to be an actress. It was not until I was in late high school that I began writing the stories I told down and
taking them serious in anyway.

Becoming an author would not take root and become my passion until I was in college. I made a joke
about how funny it would be if a friend of mine became a cop. I started describing the scene and even after I fin-
ished telling him about it the scene continued going in my head. I wrote it down when I got off the phone with
him. Those few pages would eventually become a whole world and a paranormal thriller series.

Do you have a specific writing style?

I have writing quirks more than style. For instance I work best when I have sticky notes up all over the
wall (separated by series by strips of yarn, of course) Each one has a separate note on it, some will even be at-
tached to other sticky notes. I am told the notes seem absolutely nonsensical at first glance. I also will have note-
books or word docs with all the notes on a series when a wall of sticky notes is not plausible.

Is there a genre(s) that youd like to write that you havent tackled yet?

I would love to right a straight up mystery thriller, with no romance and nothing paranormal. But I find
this incredibly difficult. I love creating and playing in my own worlds so much that I have trouble playing by the
rules of the real world. I also love happily ever afters. I do not like reading books that do not end happily. This
means I find myself thinking, 'hey what if there was this person they find attractive' There have been several
cases over the years were I catch myself writing a genre that I did not start out with.
Lady of the Dead for instance did not start out as a romance. It was going to be a paranormal thriller, but
as I was writing I found myself wondering, 'what if the king falls for Gwen while he is in Seattle?' Suddenly it was
a romance. Which would then lead to an entire romance series.


Of all the characters youve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

I become partial to different characters in each book / series I write. When it comes to the Night
World, I have to say Sin is my favorite. She says what she is thinking and can provide comic relief without
meaning to. Yet her thought process always makes perfect sense to me.

Poet is a close second though. I love the fact that he keeps so many secrets that no one truly knows
him. He originally was going to be a bit of a prankster and that would be it. But as the book went on I saw that
Poet just wasn't happy being that simple.


If this book is part of a serieswhat is the next book? Any details you can share?

Each of the Night World books will have different main characters, but the same overarching plot.
Though it will probably be another year before in comes out (I hope sooner) the working title for the next
book is Viking Sensitivity. So, for those who read Lady of the Dead that gives you a general idea of what the
next book will be about.

What book are you reading now?

I have a million books in my reading queue. Currently I am partway through: Anatomy of Love by
Helen Fisher (An anthropology book about the human mating dance) Survivor in Death by J. D. Robb (A fu-
turistic romantic cop thriller and part of the In Death series) River Marked by Patricia Briggs (Urban Fantasy
by an author local to me. It is in the Mercy Thompson series)

What books/authors have influenced your life?

I would have to say Laurell K Hamilton and Sherrilyn Kenyon were big influences on me. They create
their worlds so completely that I could fall right in to them. Laurell K Hamilton was the first author whose
books I ate through as fast as I could get them. I love the humor and style of her work. Sherrilyn Kenyon's
Dark Hunter series has roots in real world myths. The History and Religious Studies graduate in me adores
that. There is also a quirky humor to her books that I identify with.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

I am currently working on two stories that I am hoping to publish within the next six months. The first
is a book called Berman's Wolves. It is an Urban Fantasy about the aftermath of a science experiment that
turned several hundred students into Werewolves. Since the experiment the government broke the students up
into groups for testing. The book takes place years later after the government officials have stepped out of the
picture. Or so it seems.

The second story is an Urban Fantasy about a homicide detective who is handed a case that opens his
eyes to a paranormal world he did not know existed. He not only has to stop the murder spree but come to
terms with the fact that the world is not as simple as he always thought.


Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

The biggest challenge in my writing is that my laptop was stolen about two months ago. I had 30+ sto-
ries at various stages of the writing process saved on it. I knew my USB drive did not have everything but when I
went to check, it turned out to have backed up a shortcut to my writing folder but none of the contents. I was dev-
astated. My work from the last ten years was gone forever.

Due to having shared several of my stories with friends over the years I was able to salvage about 30% of
my work. I was also lucky that Lady of the Dead was at the editor, so the completed manuscript wasn't lost. Al-
most all of my notes are gone. So the biggest challenge I face as a writer is trying not only to get passed that loss
but in trying to recreate as much of my work as I can.


What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

I do not know if this is truly surprising but I have both Ghostbusters movies memorized. As in I can quote
along with the entire more. I have had people stop what they were doing and come sit next to me just to watch and
see if I truly know all the lines. I used to watch the first movie all the time as a very little kid and I believe Ghost-
busters 2 was the first movie I ever saw in theaters. They are still in my top five favorite moves. So I guess you
could say that it has been a lifelong love affair.

Lady of the Dead
Night World Series
Book 1
Gretchen S. B.

Genre: Paranormal Romance

ISBN: 9781311214874

Number of pages: 262
Word Count: ~93, 000

Cover Artist: Gretchen S. B.

Book Description:

A Lady of the Dead only comes along once in a century. Gwen knows this makes her valuable but
she hates the constant supervision of her Warrior guards. Her increasing power has gifted her
some independence until rumors of war spook her guards enough to report to the King

Cesar has been King of North America through several wars and rebellions. When one of his gen-
erals informs him these new rumors involve the Lady of the Dead he flies to Seattle himself it in-
vestigate, posing as his second-in-command. The instant attraction he feels to Gwen becomes in-
creasingly hard to ignore.

Will Cesar be able to protect Gwen while battling his lust? Will Gwen stay with her warrior
guards or will Cesars dominating nature push her to switch sides? Hidden alliances begin to sur-
face in Lady of the Dead.
Lady of the Dead Excerpt

When Gwen finished eating, she closed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair. She felt every person at
that table go on guard. Gwen almost laughed; they were so protective of her, even when it wasnt something
they could protect against. Taking deep breaths, Gwen lowered her head and slowly rolled out her power into
the Spirit World around her. She was trying a technique Oracle showed her, exiting her physical body to reach
farther away. Since it was a new skill, Gwen struggled with it. It had taken four tries this morning to finally
get it right. This time she headed north. She didnt know the area too well so Gwen concentrated on the direc-
tions she took. The last thing she needed was to get lost outside her own body, where she couldnt defend her-
self.
After several minutes, Gwen passed over a school playground in a residential area. A huge shadow
creature hunkered down on all fours watched a group of teenagers who stood on the opposite side of the fence.
Gwen could feel the malice vibrating from the creature. He was strong but bound to the schoolyard. He
seemed to be weaker in the waning sunlight that still illuminated his surroundings.
Gwen landed on the far end of the fence, away from the teens but careful to keep the fence between her
and the creature. Once she began hovering near the fence, the thing slowly turned its head to look at her.
Gwen gasped and fear flooded her system.
Its head was twice the size of hers and round. Its jaw protruded slightly and when it smiled evilly at
her, she could see every single one of his teeth were razor sharp. His eyes were narrow and the irises black.
The body was bulky and almost disproportioned. Gwen knew if this thing stood on its hind legs it would be
somewhere around eleven feet tall. She couldnt stop the fear coursing through her.
It moved much faster than Gwen expected it to, crossing the yard in under ten seconds. He moved like
a gorilla, putting weight on his knuckles and swinging his back legs forward. He didnt stop until his face was
up against the fence. He straightened slightly so his face and Gwens were only feet apart. His breathing was
ragged with excitement. Gwen knew her fear rolled off her and this creature could feel it, but she stood her
ground. She could feel the spells put on him and the playground. He couldnt get to her as long as she was on
this side of the fence. But he was still damn scary.
What brings the Lady of the Dead to my corner of the world? His voice was inhumanly low and high
at the same time.
Gwens fear spiked, he knew who she was.
That voice laughed at her.
It was one of the scariest things Gwen ever heard, and she automatically shuddered. Im looking for
information about some men.
It gave her an unblinking stare. You are not yet strong enough to force answers from me. I can smell
your fear and weakness. It sat down on its haunches. I also smell your determination, and that interests me. I
may or may not answer your questions.
Gwen wasnt quite sure how to take that. This thing was clearly evil, but it might help her. She knew
she needed to tread lightly because without a doubt he had an ulterior motive.
There are three rogue Warriors that may be in the area. They may be trying to start a war.
The things pointed ears twitched and he interrupted her. What kind of war?
Gwen fought to keep her voice steady. She knew the effort was pointless since he knew she was terri-
fied, but she needed to try for her own sake. We believe an all out one in this kingdom.
Its breathing slowed and he closed his mouth, staring at her for several beats. No, they will fail.
The answer was so abrupt Gwen actually blinked. What?
It smiled at her again and Gwens fear rose. The Warriors you speak of, I know of them. Though they
are not stupid enough to try recruiting me, they may have recruited Basilix, an enemy of mine. He is too
strong for them to handle. Eventually he will eat them, or use them. It is hard to tell with Basilix. These Warri-
ors you seek have been making alliances will all manner of Night Worlders. Now run along back to your
body, little girl.
One giant clawed paw contorted through the chain link fence and slashed across Gwens stomach. She
screamed as pain shot through her and the shock from it broke her concentration, sending her shooting through
the Spirit World back to her body.
The crash back in was jarring and made her feel like she had been hit by a bus. Her stomach burned so bad
she screamed. She was only dimly aware of a hand over her mouth. The pain was stealing her consciousness. She
barely heard Sivias muffled voice from far away.
Lucia, quick, mask her and clean the blood. We need to get her out of here.
Pain consumed her and the world appeared to go a dull red. Gwen swore she could hear that creatures
voice laughing. Then there was silence.

About the Author:

Gretchen happily lives in Seattle, Washington where she spends her time creating new characters
and situations to put them in. She also enjoys cheering on her local sports teams, even though it
sometimes seems they are allergic to winning.

She has loved reading and telling stories as far back as she, or anyone else, can remember. Cur-
rently, she loves to read the same genres she writes. She also loves exploring her home state. At
the end of her adventures she unwinds by curling up on the couch, knitting while catching up TV
shows.

www.Gretchensb.com

https://twitter.com/GretchenSB

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Gretchen-S-B/540293959350712




Christmas Past
Susanna Fraser

Entangled Ever After

Release Date: November 25, 2013

Book Description:

Time-traveling PhD student Sydney Dahlquists first mis-
sion sounded simple enoughspend two weeks in De-
cember 1810 collecting blood samples from the sick and
wounded of Wellingtons army, then go home to modern-
day Seattle and Christmas with her family. But when her
time machine breaks, stranding her in the past, she must
decide whether to sacrifice herself to protect the timeline
or to build a new lifeand embrace a new lovetwo
centuries before her time.

Rifle captain Miles Griffin has been fascinated by the tall,
beautiful Mrs. Sydney from the day he met her caring
for wounded soldiers. When he stumbles upon her time travel secret on Christmas Eve, he vows
to do whatever it takes to seduce her into making her home in his presentby his side.


Amazon BN


Excerpt:

What is that thing?
His voice shook a little, she thought. But not much. He was an officer and a gentleman, so he couldnt let
himself freak out over something new and strange. If he was scared, he hid it well. She admired that. As a time
traveler, she tried to live by the same kind of code.
A carriage, sir, she said. And a broken one, at that.
No, Mrs. Sydney, Captain Griffin said in a tone that reminded her of Professor Krakowski in lecture
mode. Itappears to be a carriage, externally. Inside is something very different. I saw it. I may not understand
the evidence of my eyes, but Ive never been given to hallucinations. And, he added with a musing, distant look
that called her mentor even more strongly to mind, if I were to suddenly take leave of my senses, I doubt very
much I should hallucinate something Id never imagined existed before.
Disguise had failed, so she must distract and deflect. I dont see why not, she said. After all, isnt
that how strange religions start?
He shrugged. Perhaps. But youre no angel, are you? Although, he allowed, youre tall and gold-
en enough for one.
She shook her head. There had been concern among the review board that at 511 she was too tall a
woman to go more than a hundred years into the past. Time travelers were supposed to blend in to their des-
tinations. No, she said. Anyway, Im shorter than you.
He smiled. It wasnt fair how the expression made him look even hotter, with white teeth straighter
than anyone born before orthodontics had a right to in a soldiers sun-browned face. Not by much. But stop
trying to distract me. I know what I saw.
She crossed her arms and tried to look lofty. What if I told you it was none of your concern and re-
fused to say more?
Now he grinned, a wicked twinkle in his eye. Then I should be obliged to found a strange religion
based on my suppositions. How do you think I would do as a mad preacher, maam? On Christmas Eve, I
saw the most celestial vision
He wouldnt. He couldnt. Youre far too rational a gentleman to do anything so mad, she said.
True. Buthang it all, Mrs. Sydney, you must tell me something! Now his voice shook, and she
could hear the fear and amazement hed been working to hide. You cannot expect a man to see a light that
glows bright as sunlight without a flicker of flame or aa portrait frame that changes its contents with the
touch of a fingertip, and walk away and never think of it again.
She bit her lip and fought to control her shaking breath. Maybe she couldve passed off the electric
light as some new and improved oil lamp, but hed seen her iPad. What could she do now? She couldnt
think of a single lie that wouldnt make everything worse. The Protocol made no allowances for this, but
hed already seen too much to be distracted or deflected, and wasnt it safer for such a curious man to know
the truth? Who knew how badly hed destroy the timeline with his guesses if she left him ignorant.
Its my time machine, she said in her own accent, my broken time machine. I wasI will be born
in 1987. I came here from America in 2013.
About the Author:
Susanna Fraser wrote her first novel in fourth grade. It starred a family of talking horses who
ruled a magical land. In high school she started, but never finished, a succession of tales of
girls who were just like her, only with long, naturally curly and often unusually colored hair,
who, perhaps because of the hair, had much greater success with boys than she ever did.
Along the way she read her hometown librarys entire collection of Regency romance, fell in
love with the works of Jane Austen, and discovered in Patrick OBrians and Bernard Corn-
wells novels another side of the opening decades of the 19th century. When she started to
write again as an adult, she knew exactly where she wanted to set her books. Her writing has
come a long way from her youthful efforts, but she still gives her heroines great hair.
Susanna grew up in rural Alabama. After high school she left home for the University of Penn-
sylvania and has been a city girl ever since. She worked in England for a year after college, using
her days off to explore history from ancient stone circles to Jane Austens Bath.

Susanna lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and daughter. When not writing or read-
ing, she goes to baseball games, sings alto in a local choir and watches cooking competition
shows.
http://www.susannafraser.com/

http://authorsusannafraser.blogspot.com/

https://www.facebook.com/susanna.fraser

https://twitter.com/susannafraser

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4133822.Susanna_Fraser

http://www.pinterest.com/susannafraser/boards/








What inspired you to become an author?

Trixie Belden!! In 2003, the Trixie Belden series was re-released, and I remember doing
some research. Id read all the books growing up and loved them. When I found out that poor
Trixie had survived 40 years of stories without ever leaving her teens, I wished more for her.
First book I ever wrote was her story--some of that wonderful, old-fashioned Fanfiction. I
havent sold that story, but I have sold the second story, the one belonging to her younger
brother. So, who knows? Maybe someday, Ill get to share my version of her story, too.

Do you write in different genres? If yes which is your favorite genre to write?

Ive written Vintage--WWII, paranormal, young adult, and suspense.actually I have a few
early-American historicals, too. But I love the contemporary genres--mostly suspense. Im
such a sucker for that heroic rescue--think Keanu Reeves in Speed.

Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you
know, or events in your own life?

In the first scene of Letters From Home, Zach is racing to get to the heroine before she
leaves on deployment for a year. He misses her by minutes. And he stands there with the
crowd, straining his eyes to find her, see her amidst all the military personnel. Everyone
dressed the same.

The first time I was reunited with my husband, I stood in a crowd like that. I hadnt seen him
in months. And they all looked the same. I swear, I scoured and strained with a pounding
heart, trying to see him. It took me at least an entire speech to finally find his face. The relief
pounded through me, and I didnt look away until all the pomp was complete and the sol-
diers had been dismissedokay, lie. Except for holding our not quite one-year-old and keep-
ing her quiet! But that part didnt make it into the story. Just the emotion of panicmaybe he
wasnt there. Maybe hed been detained. Maybe something was wrong. Which is ridiculous,
of course, be theres no telling the heart what the brain knows.

If this book is part of a serieswhat is the next book? Any details you can share?

This book wasnt sold as a series, but Id be surprised if another story didnt come from it.
Lenas sister definitely has a story worth telling!! I almost couldnt get her to shut up. :D Ac-
tually, Ive never written a book that didnt have tendrils of story coming from it. Every person
we meet is another story to be toldanother life worth loving. So, yeah. Im hoping to keep my
hands to the keyboard for a looong time.

What book are you reading now?

I went to a writing workshop recently and met another author who recommended another author.
Heather Ashby is also a military spouse, and she is also retired Navy, so I picked up her book,
Forgive and Forget, which Im finding hard to put down. The tension is high and the stakes are
unbelievably LARGE. Just my kind of book.

What books/authors have influenced your life?

Okay, Im going to admit something here My romance reading life began with Susan Elizabeth
Phillips and her so-awesome ability to tell Cal and Janes story in Nobodys Baby but Mine.
From there, I started in on Nora Roberts, Elizabeth Lowell, and Christina Dodd. Maybe thats a
bit clich, but I just want to tell a story like they do. That being said, there is one author/blogger
in the last year or two who has really helped me break out. Rebecca T. Dickson, who doesnt
know me from a hole in the wall, btw, keeps telling me to shut-the-fuck-up and write. And I think
I love her for it. She demands that I put aside my fears and worries. Anytime I read her blog, I am
struck by my weaknesses and forced to rise above them. :D So, huge thanks to her.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

I stepped out of the norm on my current ms. My hero is 42 and my heroine is late 30sand
theyre married! I know, so old! So ew! But I love this story, a lot. Nathan is former military who
runs a securities company with his wife, but hes going blindnot only that but a man he took
down ten years ago is back, looking for revenge. When I started the story, I just kept imagining
what it would be like to lose something as vital as your vision. And since I have a son who is
blind, it wasnt that hard to do. Plus, I knew that even blind, this guy could take care of himself
and overcome the obstacles that seemed so insurmountable.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Filling in the blanks. I tend to write fast-paced and shallow. I usually have to go back and get into
peoples heads. I know whats in there, but its not so easy for me to get it on the screen at first.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

Next? Ill be thrown into edits for a story I sold to Boroughs Publishing Group. Okay, its true. I
LOVE THIS STORY, too! Its about a wounded warrior trying to put his life together when she
shows back up. Women!...the monkey wrench in every mans carefully laid plans.
Watch for it to come out later next year. :D
Letters From Home
Bethanne Strasser

Entangled Flirt

ISBN: 9781622663835

Book Description:

An Army doctor, Lena Rodriguez has always been too
busy with school or the Army for romance. But the let-
ters she received during deployment have captured her
heart. Back home for the holidays, she awaits Christ-
mas morning to meet the man who has turned her life
upside down.

When Zack Benson watched his best friend's sister Le-
na leave for Afghanistan, he knew he had to tell her he
loved her. So he sent her anonymous love letters. Now
that shes home, he realizes he's made a tactical error. Lena has fallen for the man in those
letters but still thinks of him as a brother. He has to convince her otherwise because if he suc-
ceeds, hell get the best Christmas present ever. But if he fails, he could lose her for good.

About the Author:

I strive to live my dreams.

A couple of years ago, my husband took that step and joined the Army. An accountant by
trade and finally fed up with a life that aggravated and frustrated...always reaching for the
almighty dollar, he came to me and said, what if I join the Army?

Sure! Please, join the Army. I want my happy husband back. :D I took my cue from him.
Though writing has been a part of my life for a long time, my drive had settled in to an easy-
going 55 mph. Not too fast, not too slow, with an occasional burst of speed to thrill me.

I write romance--suspense, contemporary, and an occasional paranormal. My stories are full
of life, family, and love. I write a lot. I have a lot to share. I love stories that encompass the
world. You can find me reading just about any genre of romance, but my favorites are fast-
paced suspense, where life is on the line and love is the only saving grace. I want a book that
makes my heart pound and my pulse race.

Website: http://www.bethannestrasser.blogspot.com
SANTA TO THE RESCUE by Adele Downs
A sweet firefighter contemporary romance novella
New Release! From Entangled Publishing

Summary:

Firefighter Jamey Tucker knows three things in life to be true: An honorable man doesn't go back on his word,
never hurts a woman, and lasting love isn't a myth. But with his recent move to a new job at the Appleton Fire
station, the long hours don't offer hope of finding the love hes looking for.
When Jamey meets beautiful pediatric nurse Heather Longhurst after hearing her sing Santa Baby in a super-
market aisle, he offers her a promise he discovers he can't keep. Heather has been betrayed by men in the past,
making it hard for Jamey to gain her trust. Determined to find a way to win her heart, Jamey uses firefight-
er engine-uity and Heather's favorite song to prove he's got Christmas spirit she can believe in all year.
Only .99! Amazon Kindle Buy Link:
http://www.amazon.com/Santa-Rescue-Entangled-Flirts-ebook/dp/B00G1IM260
Only .99! B&N Nook Buy Link:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/santa-to-the-rescue-adele-downs/1117194515?ean=9781622663811

Excerpt:
She laughed out loud this time, and the sound of her voice rang through the air, pure and clear. He could listen
to that voice for hours. These are for my kids at the hospital. Im an R.N. at County. Were decorating the
pediatric ward. And spoiling the children too, a bit. Im baking cookies for our holiday party on Saturday.
She held out her hand for a handshake. Im Heather Longhurst.
Jamey introduced himself and took her hand. He told her what he did and where he worked. Her skin felt soft
against his palm, though her grasp conveyed confidence and strength.
He cocked his chin. What kind of cookies?
Chocolate chip, of course. Is there any other kind?
Jamey shook his head. He could almost taste melted dark chocolate and smell the aromas of fresh baked flour,
eggs and sugar filling her kitchen. His mouth watered. He hoped she couldnt hear his stomach rumble. He
hadnt eaten in over fourteen hours. No maam.
Heather returned a lopsided grin. Youre not from around here, are you?
Southern Indiana, born and raised.
She moved out of the way of an elderly couple trying to pass with their half-filled shopping cart. Jamey moved
too and they strolled together toward the exit. Ill make a plate of cookies for you, if you stop by the hospital
to pick it up. She said.
Jamey smiled at her, his heart lifting at the turnaround in his day. Thats the best offer Ive had since I moved
to Appleton.
Youre new in town?
Been here almost three months.
Glad to meet you, Jamey Tucker. See you about one oclock?
Ill be there. Count on it.
I will. She smiled back and their gazes locked. His mood soared with the realization she was flirting with
him. The day had definitely taken a turn for the better.
About Adele Downs:
Adele Downs writes contemporary romance inside the office of her rural Pennsylvania home. She is a former
journalist, published in newspapers and magazines inside the USA, UK, and Caribbean.

Adele is an active member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter where she serves as
past-president. She has written several articles for RWR magazine (Romance Writers Report), the trade jour-
nal of Romance Writers of America, and has presented workshops for writers. When she isnt working on her
current project, she can be found riding in her convertible or reading a book on the nearest beach.

Visit Adele Downs at http://adeledowns.wordpress.com
Like Adele Downs on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/authoradeledowns
Follow Adele Downs on Twitter! @Adele_Downs
Second Chance Christmas
Ellen Butler

Entangled Flirt

ISBN: 9781622663804

Book Description:

Prominent DC attorney Emma Taylor is pulled away from
a promising date the week before Christmas to pick up her
ex-fiance from the ER after a bar fight. She's in no mood
to re-open old wounds, but its Christmas and she cant
just leave him alone and injured.

Eight hundred eighty-four days. Thats how much time has
passed since Major Colton Evans made the biggest mis-
take of his life. Even after two tours of duty and too much
shrapnel in his leg, its still the loss of Emma that haunts
him. And if he can win her back, hell take any chance.

When she insists he stay with her during the holiday, they put out enough sexual electricity
to rival the most decorated house on the block. But will it be enough to light the way to a fu-
ture together?

About Ellen Butler

I am an old, new writer. In other words, old to writing, new to novel writing. My history in-
cludes a long list of writing and editing for dry but illuminating professional newsletters and
journals, and windy papers on public policy and political science. The leap to novel writing
is simply a creative outlet for my over active and romantic imagination to run wild.

My genre is Womens Fiction and Romance. I like to provide strong female characters, ro-
mance, and suspense in my novels. I work hard to envelop you in the story, to make you root
for the heroine by laughing with her or yelling at her when she makes mistakes.

Website: http://www.ellenbutler.net/

Blog: http://www.ellenbutler.net/blog/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/EllenButlerBooks

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/8183693-ellen
White Lie Christmas
Christine Bell & Riley Murphy

Entangled Flirt

ISBN: 9781622664191

Book Description:

The holidays are here, and Leah Latrelle has made a
mess of them. When her out-of-town parents concern
over her non-existent love life threatens to interfere with
her fathers health, she invents a boyfriend who quickly
turns into a fianc. Her family is thrilled, and they
change their Christmas plans last minute to meet their
future son-in-law. Now Leah has no choice but to come
up with the goods. She needs a man, fast. When her
friend and business partner, Mick, offers himself up as a
sacrifice, shes all over it. Hes handsome, dependable
and available for the job.

What could go wrong?

Tis the season, and Mick Kilpatrick cant say no to a damsel in distress. Especially when that
damsel is his luscious business partner who has been the object of his reluctant desire for the
past year. He hasnt pursued anything because being a dad is still priority number one. A sexy
woman like Leah will only distract him from whats really important and he cant have that.
Hell pretend to be her fianc, but when its over, everything will go back to normal. Sure, hes
fantasized about her once or...a million times but that doesnt mean hes in love with her. Does
it?

About the Authors:

Christine Bell

Christine Bell was born and raised in Connecticut, where she
spent most of her childhood outdoors catching salamanders, frogs
and colds. When she wasn't terrorizing Mother Nature, she was
curled up under the covers with her nose in a book. As an adult,
she's stopped stalking amphibians, but still loves books. When she
isn't reading, she likes to spend her time people-watching. In fact,
she's probably watching you RIGHT NOW .

She's also pretty obsessed with writing YA books, but if she had to pick another profession
she would be a ninja...or a Professor of the Dark Arts.

Website: http://www.christine-bell.com/

Blog: http://chrisbwritin.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_ChristineBell
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christine-BellChloe-Cole-
Author/150917174953849
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4466856.Christine_Bell
Riley Murphy

Hmm about me. You know? I had a whole list of things to talk
about. How Im an artist, a university graduate, I was a stay-at-
home mom whod been president of condo associations, home
owners associations and PTAs, but once the kids were grown, I
became an entrepreneur who built and ran two successful busi-
nesses.and right there I stopped. What does all this stuff have to
do with my writing career?

Oh sure that was the external fuel that got me to this point in life,
but its the internal stuff that matters, right? So, about me? Heres
whats important. Im a wife, a mother, a daughter and a sibling in
that order. Ive been married to the same man for twenty-five
years and I still get a thrill when he walks in the room. I have two
children who -if they werent my kids- Id be proud to call them
friends. I have an elderly parent who lives with me now and I feel fortunate to be in a posi-
tion to gracefully accept the responsibility of my moms care. And I have siblings. All of
whom understand the journey Im on and support it.

In a nutshell? My life has always been centered around the people I love. Just as my writing
is centered around the characters I adore. Ive waited a long time to for this and I cant tell
you how happy I am to be here.

I hope you like my guys as much as I do. They really are so bad theyre good!

Website: www.AuthorRileyMurphy.com

Blog: http://www.badboyscanbefun.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Riley__Murphy
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/riley.murphy.9469

Alpha
The Scattered Dark Series
Book Two
Fierce Dolan

Genre: erotic horror, hardcore paranormal erotica,
BDSM

Publisher: Fierce Desires

Date of Publication: 23 October 2013

ISBN: 978-0-9860165-6-1
ASIN: B00G4V1ETU

Number of pages: 53
Word Count: 15,857

Cover Artist: Fierce Dolan

Amazon

Book Description:

When domme Alaine Dunham meets beautiful, young werewolf Seth, she dreams of training
him to be the perfect bottom to fill her Alpha needs. She quickly finds that gentling the wild
wolf is one thing; subduing the rebellious human is another. Tensions mount as the full moon
pushes them to consummate their bond before relationship concerns are soothed.

After a strange book falls into Alaine's hands she begins to doubt her relationship, her instincts,
and the moon.

Book One, Journal of a Lycanthrophile , is free on Amazon starting December 2

Alpha by Fierce Dolan

Chapter 1

A wolf. Alaine Dunham didnt have to see him for that familiar life force to course
through hers, for her body to ache to be near histhe telltale signs. Several years had passed
since those sensations last sizzled up her spine, thudded behind her ribs, pooled hot and wet at
her cunt, and she relished them. Scouting him from her vantage point on the stage, seeing his
wild allure, got her even hotter.
The dark man clutched the hand of Hostess Kisha. Her rainbow-plaited head bobbed, a
kaleidoscope beacon glinting under the strobing lights as she squinted and guided them
through the fray on the glittering dance floor. The shifter pressed through the crowd with his
shoulders squared and jaw jutted forward. A lock of wavy black hair obscured his eyes. His
swagger betrayed that he was young, anxious, needy, though the power that emanated from
him told her he was not newly made. Dancing clubbers parted and stared in his wake.
Alaine jumped down from the stage and waited for him to find her, as he most certainly
would. She busied her trembling hands by slapping a cat-o-nine against her thigh. The welts
that rose on her skin distracted her from the aching want between her legs. Licking her lips,
she sighed and slowed her slamming pulse. If she was half the top she and the patrons of Mal-
ice in Fundaland thought she was, hed be trained to knot in no time. Finally, a worthy con-
quest.
Shaking her ponytail down her back, she pulled her shoulders up and greeted Kisha.
The waifish hostess clasped Alaines hand and kissed her cheek, conservative affection con-
sidering they had tribbed all afternoon, culminating with the caramel-complexioned beauty
creaming on her face around sundown. Fraternizing amongst staff was forbidden, so they kept
their bennie trysts secret. Smiling, she tucked a colorful ringlet behind Kishas ear and nodded
to the lovely man.
Mistress, Kisha started, this is Seth. Hes a regular on the scene, though its his first
time in Malice. His gaze roved over Alaine as the smaller woman spoke. He asked for you.
He knows the best when he sees it.
Ah. She resisted the urge to rap his thigh with the flail handle. Im booked out sever-
al nights. Hostess Kisha can get you on the books for another evening.
The wolfs piercing gaze met hers, though his long lashes fluttered and his voice wa-
vered. Nice to meet you, thanks. For now, Ill watch.
About the Author:

Erotic mezzofiction writer, Fierce is imagination shapeshifted as a scribe taunting blank pages
and carpal tunnel, neither of which are much use for deadlines. Close allies are impeccable
timing and a trusty masseuse. Being a switch I/ENFP doesnt hurt. For kicks Fierce has other
personas across several genres, tends to fill in Other on surveys without explaining, and
chooses the finality of the Japanese Tamagotchi.

www.fiercedolan.com

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/fiercedolan

@FierceDolan http://www.twitter.com/fiercedolan

Google+ https://plus.google.com/118302380096094683854/posts

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5236551.Fierce_Dolan

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B007CJS3QK

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/fiercedolan/

Tumblr http://www.fiercedolan.com/'http://fiercedolan.tumblr.com/
Interview with AC James

What inspired you to become an author?

I was always a reader. I still am a reader. And I think most authors start out that way. I
couldnt imagine not writing.

Do you write in different genres?

I write different heat levels but I tend to write paranormal romance and BDSM romance
for the most part.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

The book was actually called the Hellfire Club but then I decided that there was
more to the story and thus the Ever After series was titled. Eternal Ever After just
fit better.

Do you title the book first or wait until after its complete?

Im actually terrible with titles. Just ask my critique partner! Im constantly say-
ing what do you think of title x or title y. So I tend to title a book once Im done
writing it.

Is there a genre(s) that youd like to write that you havent tackled yet?

Eventually Id like to write a contemporary romance but the right story hasnt
called to me yet.

Of all the characters youve ever written, who is your favorite and why?
I have a particularly soft spot for Victoria. Shes not even the heroine of the story but shes a
very strong character. You learn a lot about her in the erotica prequel, Cursed Ever After.
Holly, who is the heroine of Eternal Ever After, was really easy to write. I hope readers con-
nect with her as much as I do. Her story isnt an easy one either.

If this book is part of a serieswhat is the next book? Any details you can share?

Well like I said I dont title things until the end but Im currently writing book two.
Luna and Victoria are going to play a really big part in it. Thats about all I can share
for now.

What book are you reading now?

I am currently reading and reviewing Summer Sins by Kathy Kulig. If you like
hot Contemporary BDSM Romance, you need to read this one. It wont disap-
point!

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in pro-
gress?

A German version of Cursed Ever After is coming out soon. The second book in the Ever
After series will be coming out late spring or early summer. Ill also be doing a reading
at Lady Janes Salon in New York on January 6
th
for readers in the tri-state area. For
readers that are too far away or that cant make
it, my dear husband will be taping it for a live vid-
eo chat with me via ShinDig in February.

Eternal Ever After
Ever After Series Book 1
A.C. James

Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Wandering Impulse Press

Date of Publication: 11/23/13

E-Book: 978-0-9911485-0-9
Print: 978-0-9911485-1-6
ASIN:

Number of pages: 307
Word Count: 88K

Cover Artist: Ramona Lockwood

Amazon

Book Description:
His past holds a secret
Arie Cush has a secret that he thought hed left behind. When his past follows him to Chicago
he must protect someone that reminds him of all the painful memories hes tried so hard to
forget. But when every touch from her sets his heart and body on firehe finds it hard to
maintain his aloof faade.
That becomes her nightmare.
Holly Ellis has secrets of her own. An encounter with the handsome stranger who frequents
her coffee shop reveals a vampire with baggage. Even though it might be more than she bar-
gained for, she cant resist the one person who understands her. But her life is in danger and a
supernatural threat could reveal the underground world of vampires to humankind in this
Gothic Cinderella re-telling.
Inside Scoop: This story contains bondage, anal play, a M/F primary romance with mild F/F
situations.
Warning: This book is fictitious. The bdsm portrayed in this story does not portray the life-
style. Vampires will be vampires. They dont exactly stop to discuss a scene, pain thresholds,
and there is no aftercare involved. Trust is an intrinsic part of the lifestyle. Use due diligence
and research before deciding to make fiction into reality.
Heat Level: This book is a steamy romance. Its the development of a romantic relationship
that contains more explicit language and sex. The sex is not an inherent part of the story, char-
acter growth, or relationship development, and if removed you still have an amazing plot.
Excerpt:

If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
Holy Bible: King James Version
PREFACE
I never guessed that I could die with a sea of faces surrounding me, all cheering for my
death. A woman wearing a jacket dress made of brocade only laughed louder when blood
splattered the low square neckline. Where is Arie? I scanned the crowded club but all I could
see were pale faces, some half covered by masks.
My time had come and I prayed she would finish me off quickly. The warm trickle of
blood ran down my neck and chest, saturating the corset bustier of my gown. It seemed like a
shame to ruin such a pretty dress. Strangely, I felt relieved the bodice was black and not a
light color that would show a stain.
The fear of dying or more accurately, the fear of not existing, scared me stiff. Perhaps
if I had satisfied this existential anxiety with faith I wouldnt jump from panic to ambiva-
lence. I should be angry at everyone who simply watched. They must think the gruesome dis-
play is part of the entertainment for tonight. After the bloody burlesque show I could hardly
blame them.
Holly, I gave you the chance to leave. The telepathic transference hardly seemed rele-
vant at this point. I knew if Id never gone to the Hellfire Club, I wouldnt be facing death
now. Still, if my death meant the killings would stop it seemed justifiable.
No! I could barely hear Arie scream above the cheering voices clamoring for atten-
tion. The constant drone defies my effort to form coherent thoughts. I looked up and could
see him on the balcony. When I blinked he had disappeared into the throng. I could feel the
blood continue to trickle down my neck as she drained me. Dizziness threatened to pull me
under. The audience applauded her brutality. I crumpled at her feet, looking up at her smile as
thin as paper.
Blood. So much blood. My blood.
I didnt want this to be the story of my death but this part is only a fragment of a narra-
tive as old as time. Its voices fill the shadows with whispers of legend. We are told that the
damned cease to exist and those absolved from sin are given eternal life. The damned can
never be saved. They walk the earth in an eternal hell. I fear it will be my curse if death
doesnt claim me instead.
About the Author:

A.C. Jamesauthor of erotic paranormal romance and erotica featuring bdsm. Wife, mother,
sushi lover, and storyteller extraordinaire. She resides in northeast Pennsylvania drinking
large vats of coffee while taming two toddlers by day and writing by night.
Ribbon of Darkness
The Trouble with Elves
Book 1
Decadent Kane

Genre: Erotica

Publisher: Breathless Press

ISBN:
ASIN:

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Book Description:

Before Ribbon had a chance to get used to the idea of being an elf, she ran into Draven who's
body jingled her bells. Unfortunately, he's the spy sent to haul her and her family back to the
North Pole on Santa's orders.

Draven North has had one task for the last twenty-four years: find the Winters family and
bring them home. He wasn't expecting their only daughter to deck his halls. No matter how
hot and sassy he found his roguess, he had to take her back before the darkness devoured the
Pole and Christmas magic along with it. But was it already too late?

Short Excerpt:

"Draven! You sly holy Knight. Sneaking up on a helpless Sylvan Elf such as I. You
know I'm an emotional creature. Where have you been?" Maple asked the minute Draven ma-
terialized in her leaf hut. She was a strong survivalist, living among her clan. Their independ-
ence was an attribute to their species. Her golden hair contrasted with her tanned skin and de-
fined feminine muscles. He recalled the last time those thigh muscles wrapped around him, it
had been too long.

"My dear, Maple." Draven bowed in apology for startling her. "Please forgive my in-
trusion. I'd hoped you'd like to see me as much as I'd like to see you. For my work keeps me
busy much of the time, it's hard to schedule a time to come."

Maple's hands pulled Draven upright. "I've missed you terribly." Her light green eyes
fluttered their lashes. He adored her bold antics, but knew she'd never be his true mate. Only
a Claus Elf could mate for life. She knew that, but pretend was fair play in their coupling.
Draven drew her in tight around him and crushed his lips to hers. Pushing his tongue
past her parting lips and lapping at the sweet taste of syrup. She bit his lower lip and pulled
back. "Are you happy to see me or is that a candy cane in your pocket?" Her hand cupped his
cock through his jeans and squeezed. He narrowed his gaze on her.

"Candy canes have no business here." He ripped the brown leaf dress from her body
causing a gasp to escape her lips. He'd give anything to hear that sound come from Ribbon.
Damn his brain. His cock only grew harder at the image of the rogue elf and her black hair
sliding over her shoulders.

About the Author:

If I had to describe myself, it would be in a word that has infinite meanings with a complexi-
ty which falls off the tongue.

A word made up of many elements, is deceptive in appearance, and creates an illusion from
the imagination.

My word would be Phantasmagoric.

FB: https://www.facebook.com/DecadentKane

Blog: http://decadentkane.blogspot.com/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/23398789-decadent-kane

Newsletter signup: http://eepurl.com/FDtsL

Why the Pin Up Files?
By Roxanne Rhoads



Several people have asked why I decided to include information about models and photogra-
phers in a magazine about books and authors.

For one I wanted to expand what the magazine offers, open it up to a new group of readers. I
wanted to do something different, something the other book magazines dont do.

Two, I have friends and acquaintances that are models and burlesque performers. Theyve in-
troduced to me to the business, to the model world and to a lot of photographers. I wanted to
offer them some appreciation, because I am a fan, and showcase them in a new promotional
spotlight.

But the real reason I added the Pin Up Files section to the magazine is because the models and
photographers are part of the book world as well- because they are the part of an often over-
looked aspect of a book- the cover.

Which is funny because the cover is the first thing most of us see when it comes to a book, the
cover can make or break a books success. The cover can be the final factor in whether or not
someone decides to purchase a book.

But yet how many people think about everything it takes to create a cover.

I know some people will think about the designer, they are finally getting more credit for their
designs which is fabulous (and I am not undermining them, I have much cover artist love) but
do many people think about the model that posed for the image or the photographer that took
the photo?

Probably not, with so many stock photo sites selling tons of photos the photographers and
models are never really mentioned or credited.

This is my way of crediting them because they are the
foundation of which book covers are built on. Without the
models and photographers, the cover designers would
have nothing to work with and the authors would have
plain, boring covers.

So please take a moment and read through our Pin Up
Files, you may see some of these models on a future book
cover- and those images may have been taken by one of
the photographers we may feature or mention in this mag-
azine.

And please check out a few of my own images- I had the
chance to model as Mrs. Claus to my husbands Santa at a
holiday group photo shoot hosted by model Ginger Kewl.
It was nice to meet some of the photographers and models
I see and chat with on Facebook. I even got firsthand ex-
perience at being a model. Not really my thing but it was fun to give it a try.

Photos by Scott Gould https://www.facebook.com/SGPHOTOGRAPHY

Santa Robert https://www.facebook.com/santafortheholidays






















Tasty Christmas Treats
Roxanne Rhoads

Genre: Holiday erotica

Publisher: Eternal Press

ISBN-10: 1897559909
ISBN-13: 978-1897559901
ASIN: B003V8BHZA

Paperback: 26 pages

Book Description:

Kelly has had a long day working in her upscale adult boutique. She's ready to kick off her heels
and spend some quality time with her husband, Marc, which just might include activities involv-
ing candy canes, ribbons and bows that would make even Kelly blush!

But just as things are spicing up, an emergency phone call from one of Kelly's employees inter-
rupts the festive fun. Kelly's troublemaking, oversexed cousin, Chrissy, is up to no good, and
wreaking havoc in Kelly's upscale sex shop.

Can Kelly convince Chrissy that her store is not a brothel before the cops shut it down? Will
Kelly and Marc ever get to finish their passionate Christmas rendezvous?
Available at Amazon in ebook and print