Monday, June 30, 2014

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Shawndirea by @Deimosweb

Shawndirea Banner 450 x 169






Chronicles of Aetheaon

Book I

Leonard D. Hilley II

Genre: Fantasy (Epic, Adventure, Sword/Sorcerer)

Publisher: DeimosWeb Publishing

Date of Publication: June 27, 2014

ISBN: 9781310304965


Number of pages: 536 printed pages

Word Count: 148,000

Book Description:

Often the smallest unexpected surprises garner the most demanding dilemmas, which proves to be the ordeal that entomologist Ben Whytten faces. While netting butterflies to add to his vast collection, he mistakenly sweeps what he thinks is the most spectacular butterfly he has ever seen into his net. Upon examining his catch, Ben is horrified to discover he has captured a faery and shredded her delicate wings into useless ribbons.

Devastated, Ben vows to take Shawndirea back to her realm, Aetheaon; but he discovers that doing so places their lives into immediate danger. To get to Aetheaon, they must pass through a portal rift deep inside the haunted cavern, Devils Den.

Once they cross the rift, Ben enters a world where mysteries, magic, betrayal, and power struggles await. He must adapt quickly or die because Aetheaon is filled with enchanted creatures and numerous races where chaos often dominates order. And since Shawndirea’s destined for the throne of Elvendale, opposing dark forces plot to prevent her from ever reaching her kingdom again. The faery's magic isn't enough to fully protect them, so he must trust other adventurers to aid them during their journey.

Available at Amazon


Chapter One

The early autumn sun blazed over the freshly cut hayfield in Cider Knoll, Kentucky. Ben Whytten rested his butterfly net against the rusted barbed wire fence and then wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Sweat soaked his shirt and blue jeans. Although fall had officially begun, the outside temperature didn’t indicate it. Sporting near ninety degrees, summer refused to let go of the climate and turned what should have been a pleasant Saturday afternoon into an intimidating taunt, daring anyone with partial sanity to remain outdoors in the sweltering heat.

After he unscrewed the canteen cap, he tilted it back and took a long drink of cold water. Beads of water dripped down his short brown beard. He sighed and twisted the cap tightly. His piercing brown eyes studied the sky. Not a cloud in sight. No breeze to help combat the hellish sticky heat.

Ben combed his sweat-matted brown hair from his eyes with his fingers. He picked up the butterfly net and looked across the straw-colored field at the small grove of pastel leafed maples that lined a winding stream. The shade was inviting, and he guessed a good ten degrees cooler than the open field. He took a deep breath and trudged across brittle grass stems that crunched beneath his hiking boots.

Collecting butterflies during autumn was better than spring or summer because the diversity of species increased. The fall forms of butterflies were generally brighter, larger, and fed in greater clusters on the ironweed, milkweed, and clover. Brilliantly colored swallowtails puddled along the creek beds. Plump moth larvae were also easier to find as they searched for places to spin cocoons or burrow beneath the soil to pupate before the colder temperatures set in.

“If colder weather ever settles in,” Ben thought, “Hell will have truly frozen over.”

Long narrow grasshoppers jumped and took to flight as Ben crossed the field. Their wings buzzed as the alarmed insects glided and drifted downward, landed, and propelled themselves into the air again.

Reaching the shade beneath the maple branches, Ben leaned against a thick tree trunk and closed his eyes. The shallow stream trickled softly. Cicadas hummed. In the distance a woodpecker rapped the bark of a massive dead pine. Weather had stripped away sections of the rough pine bark, revealing the smooth yellow wood underneath. The soothing sounds of nature relaxed him, and he was thankful to be outside, alone.

Dr. Isaac Deiko had planned to collect insects with Ben this particular Saturday, but at the last minute, he called and said that he couldn’t go. Deiko had to help set up tables for a gun show in a neighboring town.

The news didn’t disappoint Ben. He’d rather collect butterflies and other insects alone. The outdoors was a place where he gathered his thoughts and meditated about life. The forests, bluffs, and meadows were the best places where he felt at peace. Leaving the fast-paced, bustling technological-craving addicts for a calmer, slow-paced life without all their distractions was worth more than millions of dollars to Ben. He’d give up all the instant gadgets for the tranquility that his grandfather and great-grandfather experienced while working on their farms.

Ben kept a serious outlook on life while Dr. Deiko spent more time playing practical jokes on their colleagues and students, which often irritated and infuriated Ben. He knew if Deiko came on this field trip, the collecting possibilities would be little or none simply because Deiko was clumsy-footed and boisterous.

Ben had never extended an invitation for Deiko to join him in the first place. In fact, Deiko had invited himself when he found out about Ben’s collecting plans for the weekend. Although Deiko was a biologist like Ben, Deiko was more concerned with uncovering a discovery to make him famous, whereas Ben loved science and didn’t care if anyone other than his students knew he existed. Of course when final exams rolled around, most of his students would rather he didn’t exist. Other than giving his students field trips from Hell, his tests were considered harsher than rigorous ten mile hikes through steep mountainous terrain.

Ben looked back across the field and chuckled. He had traipsed hundreds of acres through forests, caves, and fields when he was still in middle school. He had done so voluntarily, without a word of complaint, and yet, today’s college students voiced disdain over the least thing. The challenge wasn’t getting them to learn; it was getting them to do anything that didn’t require the pacifying need for their technology.

His inner frustration brought more heat to his face. He was seconds from rehashing how he wished computers and cellphones weren’t so controlling until the soft bubbling creek caught his attention. The gentle soft sound of water allowed his mind to leave the tensions of the classroom and return to the natural calm surrounding him. He expelled a long sigh and refocused himself.

Tall narrow blades of grass covered the sandy banks of the shallow stream. Small drab satyr butterflies fluttered lazily from grass blade to grass blade. Ben shook his head. After two hours of walking the fields and woods, he had hoped to capture a few new specimens to add to his collection. But with each species he encountered, he already had at least a half-dozen of those pinned inside glass-top boxes at home. In many ways, he believed he’d have done himself a greater service by staying home.

But regardless of what he deemed bad luck, his life was about to change.


He removed his backpack and set it down. Slowly he lowered himself and sat back against the tree trunk to rest. He set down the canteen and placed the net handle across his lap and watched the gentle stream flow. A few minnows darted back and forth beneath the water as water striders skimmed like polished skaters across the water’s surface.

Ben was drenched in sweat and drained from the heat. A cool breeze stirred along the stream, which seemed an invitation to relax a while longer. His eyes ached to close for a nap. He fought the urge to doze even though the place was so comforting and peaceful. But, if nothing interesting presented itself soon, he was going home. He dreaded walking across the dry pasture to his SUV.

Ben took his hunting knife from the sheath attached to his belt and then picked up a dried oak branch. He whittled and shaved away bark.

Perhaps it was the extreme heat that kept the most brilliant butterflies in hiding, but he still didn’t see any within the grove or along the sandy banks. Later in the evening he might have better luck, but he refused to stick around that long. He slid the knife back into its sheath and rubbed his tired eyes.

Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy. Several birds flew low across the stream and through the trees. Seconds later two yellow butterflies glided to the edge of the far bank and landed. A larger butterfly caught his attention. At first glance he thought it was a giant swallowtail, but instead, it turned out to be an oversized tiger swallowtail.

Ben’s fingers tightened around the net handle. He pushed himself to his feet. He stepped lightly and headed toward the stream to get a better look at the butterflies. Near the bank, a blur of metallic bluish-green streaked past him.

“Damn!” he said, watching the zipping wings catch the breeze and glide.

With incredible speed, it darted up, down, left to right, and along the stream’s edge. Perhaps the sweltering heat or near dehydration was playing tricks on him, but he was almost certain glittery dust trailed behind it.

Ben hurried after the butterfly, a prize unlike any other in his collection.

Few butterflies in this part of Kentucky had such metallic colorings. One he thought of immediately was the White M Hairstreak, but this one was too large and flew much swifter. Another butterfly with similar colors was the long-tailed skipper, but the sheen sparkling off the butterfly following the stream was too bright. Its flight was also more erratic. The skipper stayed near gardens, and he doubted any strayed this far into the woods since the larvae food plant was the leaf of various beanstalks.

Ben realized he had just discovered something new. Excitement shot through him.

He hurried along the stream and jumped over a fallen tree. His sudden pursuit had not gone unnoticed. The iridescent creature darted downward and swept through the tiny branches of a shrub. But Ben moved faster.

As the beautifully winged specimen shot through the other side of the bush, Ben arced the net sharply and captured his prize. The end of the net pulled and stretched while his captive struggled to fight free.

Quickly, Ben clamped his fingers near the end of the net, but by the time he did, the struggling ceased.

He opened the net and looked inside. His eyes widened.

“What the hell?” he asked.

At the bottom of the net lay a gorgeous creature, but not what he had expected to capture. Her wings were tattered, frayed. Unconscious, he hoped, but he feared she might be dying or already dead. Broken scales and wing fragments covered her nearly nude body.

His excitement of the chase suddenly turned to regret and dread.

A faery?

Ben dropped to his knees and gently set down the net.

“God,” he whispered. “I hope I didn’t kill you.”

He carefully placed his left hand beside her unmoving form. He nudged her into the palm of his hand with the tip of his finger. She breathed, but her eyes remained closed. Her radiant face was more beautiful than any woman he had ever met.

A door slammed and echoed near the pasture gate where he had parked his SUV.

Ben looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see who had driven up.

“Ben!” Deiko shouted. “Where are you?”

“Dammit,” Ben grumbled under his breath, looking back over his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He hurried to the tree where his pack lay. He curled his left hand gently around the faery’s limp body while reaching into the pack.


Ben took a wide-mouthed dark plastic bottle, set it between his knees and unscrewed the hole-punched lid. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw Deiko’s lanky figure jogging toward the grove. Deiko smiled and waved when their eyes met. His jog turned into a sprint as he headed toward Ben.

Ben placed the faery into the jar, turned the lid, and wrapped the jar inside a white cloth before setting it back into his pack. No sooner had he placed it there and zipped the pack shut, Deiko’s thundering footsteps stopped beside him.

“Catch something nice?” Deiko asked.

“No,” Ben replied, looking up but not making eye contact with Deiko. “Not much activity out here today. I blame the heat.”

Deiko smiled broadly. “You caught something. Something special.”

Ben shook his head, picked up his pack, and stood. “Look around, Isaac. What do you see?”

Deiko glanced around but then his eyes focused on Ben’s backpack again. “I agree. Not much flying around. But you got something.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your eyes. It’s the same with poker players who have a great hand and haven’t conditioned themselves to suppress their excitement or like kids that find money on the ground after someone drops it. Hell, I noticed people at the gun show who bought guns from people far cheaper than the owners knew the guns were worth.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, and he chose to change the subject. He said, “How was the gun show? I thought you’d be there all day.”

Deiko shrugged. “That had been the plan. Not much going on there, either. Got a couple good deals though. Like this Ruger.”

He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt.

“Nice,” Ben replied. Carefully he slipped his pack over his shoulder and headed toward the hay field.

“Well?” Deiko said. He tucked the gun behind his belt and stepped in front of Ben. “Aren’t you going to show me?”

Sweat dripped from his Deiko’s black hair and beaded on his brow. Ben studied the determination set in his colleague’s dark eyes and his firm muscular jaw. Within seconds, Deiko’s boyish face had hardened into that of a fierce murderous villain. Physically, he had no weight to put behind his facial threat. He was tall and quite bony with slender arms. And although Deiko was probably fifteen years younger, Ben had no doubt if he was forced to fight that Deiko would be the one sitting on the ground looking up and rubbing his jaw. But, then, there was the gun issue. Isaac was armed and all Ben had was his knife. Even those odds didn’t stand in Isaac’s favor.

“Show you what?” Ben asked.

“Your prize. It must be something nice since you still refuse to show me.”

“How many times have I told you that I haven’t found anything?”

“You and I should play poker sometime,” Deiko said. “I’d make a fortune.”

“Being as I don’t play cards, you’re probably correct with that assumption.”

“Oh, come on, Ben,” Deiko said. Hostility loomed in his voice and darkness narrowed his eyes. “Why are you afraid to show me what you found?”

Ben studied him for a moment. Never had he seen Isaac behave like a demented spoiled brat. He had his moments, but Dr. Deiko generally didn’t keep a quiet and intimidating tone. But out here, away from others, Ben suddenly saw the violence that hid deep within the botanist, and it was creeping to the surface. Knowing that Deiko lusted for fame, for a discovery beyond what man had seen or could fathom, Ben knew he could never show the faery to Deiko. The second he did, something horrible would happen. To Ben and the lovely faery.

Deiko had not only shown the gun as his grand prize from the gun show, he had established his subtle threat by revealing he had brought it into the field. Hunting season was still a few weeks away, and no one needed a gun to collect butterflies. He had shown the gun for a reason—either as a bullying tactic or simply to exhibit dominance.

“I think the heat is getting to you, Isaac,” Ben said, shaking his head and stepping around his colleague.

“Put down the pack,” Isaac said.


Ben froze when Isaac inserted the magazine into the gun and snapped the gun’s chamber back and forth.

“Put down your pack. I want to see what you’re hiding inside.”

Ben turned. He looked in Isaac’s eyes, then to the gun.

Isaac shook his head. “Uh-uh. Just set it down.”

Ben frowned and slowly lowered his pack to the ground. He held his hands before him in surrender. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“So you did find something.”

“And if I did? You going to kill me for it?” Ben asked.

Isaac chuckled. “Depends on how good a find it is.”




Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

  I learned to read at age 3 and immediately fell in love with books. I read everything in my school library. My mother took me to the city library, and I read until I couldn’t find anything else that I enjoyed. So I began writing my own comics and my first novel when I was 11 years old.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

 When I was in the sixth grade, we had to write down questions on little pieces of paper and then randomly draw one from the fishbowl.  Afterwards, we had to write a story from the question and present it to the class. My topic was off the wall, but what I presented to the class had them rolling with laughter. That day was the day I knew I wanted to be a writer. There’s so much power in words.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

  My first novel, Predators of Darkness, probably took seven years to get published. A major publisher sat on that novel for three years, telling me that they liked it, but after three years, they finally declined. Since the novel is cross-genre, it’s more difficult to get an agent or publisher to sign.

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

 Currently, I teach General Education classes full-time at a junior college in Southern Ohio.  I teach General English, Composition I & II, Public Speaking, Literature, and Strategies for Success. I enjoy teaching a great deal.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

Shawndirea (Chronicles of Aetheaon: Book One).  A man risks his life to fulfill his promise to a faery in order to get her to her realm.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

 I publish under my imprint: DeimosWeb Publishing.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

For most books, usually a year.  Shawndirea is a different matter though.  I scrapped one of my earliest books in 1994.  The plot just wasn’t working, so I killed it.  However, the characters in that book remained alive and quietly matured in my mind.  After twenty years they were allowed a chance to talk, and they took over. This is the longest novel I’ve written, but the pace at which the words came astounded me.

What can we expect from you in the future?  ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

 I’m already working on the second book in the Chronicles of Aetheaon series.  I’m writing a sci-fi novel, too.  Next year, I have a teen series I want to get started. Three titles and plotlines are in the works now.

What genre would you place your books into?

 The Darkness Series is cross-genre: sci-fi, dystopia, suspense, thriller, and mystery. Shawndirea is action/adventure, fantasy.

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

The characters are the ones that introduce me to themselves and their dilemmas. I simply follow and write down what occurs.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

Morton is my favorite character, and the majority of the readers love him, too. Morton is a genetically altered shifter that has the ability to speak. He’s a smart mouth on occasion but always loyal to his family. He made his debut in Predators of Darkness: Aftermath and has been in each book in the Darkness Series thereafter. He is the most stubborn character I have.  Just like a cat, he only does what he does when he wants to.  I can never force him to speak, so I treasure when he makes his appearance.

How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write? 

 I’ve been writing well over thirty years.  I fell in love with books and writing. I love using my imagination to create worlds and characters, so I think that’s why I write.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

  Since I started teaching, I write whenever I have free time.  For Shawndirea, I listened to fantasy game soundtracks.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

 I do.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

 I choose a temporary title because the title can change from time to time, depending upon the characters and the plot.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

 Often they come to me when I least expect it.  Places can change, too. But for Predators of Darkness: Aftermath, Pittsburgh fit because of the geography (the peninsula).  My muse sets the scenery and quite well, I must add.  Devils Den and Shawndirea focus on a fictional town, Cider Knoll, near Somerset, Kentucky.  The bizarre thing is that I travelled to Somerset after I had written the rough draft of Devils Den, and the places I described in the novel were there.  I had never visited the area beforehand.  I had chills.

Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?

 For the map in Shawndirea, I sat down and used a town name generator for some of the names. Others came on their own.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

Usually the characters reveal themselves slowly to me as I write. Again, I observe, take notes, and follow.  I never force a character because I love the “Ah-ha!” moments when they occur.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

 Not intentionally.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

 I still prefer paperbacks but am adjusting to eBooks.

What is your favorite book and Why?

 Difficult choice. Roger Zelazny’s Chronicles of Amber.

Have you read it more than once?


Do you think books transfer to movies well?


Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

 Stephen King’s “The Mist” was the worst book to movie transfer because of the ending.  The novella didn’t end like the movie.  The main character was not true to himself and would not have done what he did at the end.

Your favorite food is?

Eggplant Parmesan

Your favorite singer/group is?

 Alice Cooper

Your favorite color is?


Your favorite Author is?

Dean Koontz



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Leonard D. Hilley II currently lives in the mountains of Kentucky with his wife, Christal. He is a biologist that has also earned his MFA in creative writing. Having a passion for books at an early age, he knew he wanted to author his own creative works. He wrote his first novel at the age of eleven and has never lost his love for books.


Twitter: @Deimosweb Publishing



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New Release: Two Week Seduction by @JadeLeeAuthor

Two Week Seduction - Tour Banner


TITLE – Two Week Seduction AUTHOR – Kathy Lyons (aka: Jade Lee) GENRE – Fun, Hot Contemporary Romance RELEASE DATE – 6/30 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 188 PUBLISHER – Brazen COVER ARTIST – Hot Damn Designs

Two Week Seduction - Book Cover


She’s going to break all of his rules...

Tech Sergeant John O’Donnell was never fond of his hometown. Too many reminders of poverty, his rocky family life, and the girl he was never allowed to have. Now he has exactly two weeks to sort out his mother’s finances before he heads back overseas. Two weeks that he’s determined to spend as far from his best friend’s little sister as possible.

Alea Heling has a naughty streak a mile wide. Sweet and simple? Boring. She’s been craving a bad boy like John since their wild days together in high school, and this time, she’s not taking no for an answer. But with every panty-meltingly hot encounter, Alea forgets one hard, cold reality—this soldier won’t let a fortnight turn into forever...and forever might be exactly what they both need.



2 Week Seduction - Teaser 2


“Thank you for your help,” he said. His voice was rusty, but clear enough.
She gasped in mock shock. “He speaks! Five words and it wasn’t rude!”
Against his will, his lips twitched. She always could make him smile when he least wanted to.
She leaned forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s try something else. I know it’s dangerous—I mean, your head might explode or something—but I say we risk it. Give me a compliment.”

“Fishing?” he drawled.

She tsked. “That wasn’t a compliment. You’re supposed to say something nice. About me.”

He didn’t answer. Mostly because he was thinking of all the things he wanted to say. That her skin looked soft and her eyes were a changeable hazel that always kept him guessing. That her tits were round and full, just begging to be nipped. That she was small compared to his 6'3" frame, but she had legs long enough to wrap around his waist as he buried himself inside her. And that red hair, a bright red flash of color on her perfect body, was a scream of danger he lusted after.

While those thoughts spun through his mind, her expression soured. With a sigh, she grabbed his empty beer bottle and held it before his eyes. “Say something nice to me and I’ll get you another beer.”

She shook the bottle a little to grab his attention. It didn’t work. He was too busy watching how the breeze pressed her blouse flat against her chest. Her bra had lace, which meant texture, and he wondered what sound she’d make if he tugged it back and forth against her nipples.

“That’s a nice b-blouse.” Damn it, he’d almost said bra.
Her mouth flattened with a sigh. “I thought you’d like it.”
Alea leaned forward as she pushed to her feet. A curl of brown hair tumbled forward, pushing past the tiny gold hoop in her ear to dangle right before him. Without thinking, he grabbed the lock, winding it around his fingers. It wasn’t even long enough to pull into his fist. But it was close enough to hold her still. Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth—those plump, pink lips—formed a perfect O.

God, he’d been gone so long. And she was so much of a woman now.
He wanted to say something, but he hadn’t the words. Just a thick want. He took a breath, trying to clear his head, but all he tasted on the air was her. A citrus scent, so appropriate to Florida and so missed when he was in Afghanistan. But there was another scent on top. The taste of woman, hot and spicy despite her demure yellow shirt.

He should let her go, but his fingers just wouldn’t cooperate. He tightened his hold. And when her hair started to slip through his grip, he pushed forward in his chair. He deserved one taste. He sacrificed so his country would be safe. One kiss was nothing when stacked up against that.

But if he was going to take her mouth—and he damn sure was—then he was going to take something else too...

2 Week Seduction - Teaser 1


KATHY LYONS writes light, funny, sexy stories for Harlequin Blaze. She loves the faster pace of category books and that her humor can shine through.

She leaves the dark, tortured love stories to her alter ego, Jade Lee.

Visit them both on the web at!



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Saturday, June 28, 2014

Cover Reveal: Forgiveness by AJ Best

Forgiveness - Happy Anniversary


Cover Reveal Tour Banner

Title – Forgiveness Author – AJ Best Genre – Erotica Publication Date – 6/28/14 Length (Pages/# Words) - 6,000 Publisher – Secret Cravings Publishing Cover Artist – Dawne Domonique



Mary is prepared for the anniversary of a lifetime. Ten years of wonderful memories fill her mind. She can’t wait to see what the next ten will bring. When her plans for early morning seduction fail, her mind jumps to worst case scenarios.

Joe’s attention, focused elsewhere, may be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Will he be able to come up with a good reason for forgetting their anniversary?

As the day continues, will the answers Mary finds leave her in tears? Will she find the next ten years dreams shattered before her? Only Joe holds the answers to the questions her heart asks.

Amazon Kindle LinkBarnes & Nobles Nook LinkGoodreads LinkShelfari Link

Forgiveness - 2 Years


It seemed more and more lately that no matter how hard she tried, he looked right through her. It was infuriating and heart breaking. She'd had enough heartbreak during the past year to last her a lifetime. Her mother had been sick battling cancer all last year. Unfortunately she’d lost the battle. She’d made sure to pass on information to Mary while on her deathbed though.

Something Mary had never seen coming. She was adopted. Her world felt as if she had lost all control.

The adoption information that her mother had left with her will quickly found its way into the trash. Why would she want to find someone who didn't want her? She had enough instances of that in her own home. She did wonder, after a year, if she had reacted too rashly. You never know when you'll need family, and if she met her biological mother maybe she could figure out who she was, inside and out.

Mary plopped herself on the bed and let out a huge rush of air. There was no way Joe hadn’t noticed her outfit. She had bought it specifically for their ten-year anniversary night.

She remembered how she had anxiously awaited this evening and decided that she would make it perfect no matter how she was feeling. Every year on this day, they left the house at four twenty five and drove to the lake where he had romantically declared his undying love and proposed to her. He always hired a horse drawn carriage. The prancing steed would take them from the lake to a lovely candlelit dinner for two. After having one too many glasses of wine and a wonderful meal, they would enjoy a leisurely stroll to the theater. Wicked was currently playing on Broadway, and she couldn’t wait to hear the music that made her soul dance and her heart soar. Re-reading the book several times had her excited, and she knew the night would be perfect.

Then reality reared its ugly head.

Carefully she unlaced her corset and tossed the silky white thong in the corner; it still held the dampness from her unquenched desire.

"I can't believe I wasted my time and effort on this. Sometimes my husband is such a jerk," when she took a look around it dawned on her that she was talking to herself. Another deep breath and swish of hair and she mused, "I guess its okay to talk to myself as long as I don't answer back, huh CC?"

She slipped her silk robe on quickly and snatched the cat from his slumberous repose. He squirmed to free himself but Mary kissed his little nose first. "Don't be like your daddy, at least notice I'm here." She placed the cat gently on the bed and started her morning ritual. Getting ready for work was the last thing she was interested in.

Forgiveness - Author Photo


Writing books has been a long time in coming for me. When I was younger, my father and I lived in a town where a kid could run the streets all ‘willy nilly’. When I was old enough to babysit myself I was off and running. To where you may ask, the library. At the time the library was in an old shop on a street in town. The children’s books were in the back room and that was where I spent my days. I was never without an adventure in my hands, and I never failed to finish the summer reading program with books to spare. My love for reading didn’t stop there. My mother is an avid reader and she acquired most of her books from a exchange shop. You would purchase your books there, and return them for partial credit and get more. One night I was left with a bag of to be returned books. It was a Piers Anthony book, Night Mare to be exact. I devoured that book and any other that he has written. I currently am the proud owner of at least 70 of his books. I’m working toward getting them all, I wish he’d quit writing so quickly.

The writing bug caught me when my 12th grade English teacher wanted to use MY essay to show the class. He put it on projector film and everything. I was so excited. The assignment was to pick a month and write about it. Of course, being the child that I was I had to be difficult about it. The rest of the class chose June, July, April and went on and on about how lovely and warm and all of the fun things you can do. Mine was about December. I still remember the first line (and may have the transparency somewhere in my mess); December spreads her snow-filled wings and covers our world in cold despair.

From that paper on, you couldn’t stop me from writing. I found a few poems I had typed on an actual manual typewriter, and became a poet. I had a recurring nightmare, I wrote it down. I dreamed a dream and if I could remember it (which is harder now that I am older) I wrote that too.

In 2003 I started my first full blown manuscript. I still only have four chapters completed, but I swear I will finish it someday. I guess the short attention span has brought me full circle on writing short stories.

So, I guess that’s where I am today. Waiting for the first query letter to come through and make me a published writer. People ask me if I am a writer, and I firmly believe and tell them YES. I write, so that makes me a writer. I may not be published yet, but I will be.

I absolutely love to get email though sometimes with the scattered mind of a writer it takes a few days to get back to you! So please forgive me if I don’t get back to you right way, but I CERTAINLY will get back to you! - See more at:


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Thursday, June 26, 2014

Hot New Release!! 2B or not 2B by Stephanie Witter

Title: 2B Or Not 2B?
Publisher: AG Publishing
Cover Designer: Cover It Designs
Category: New Adult
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Coming out June 26th
London Reed is on the hunt for a place to live before the start of her second year in college. Either she is successful and can enjoy her student life without the pressure of her parents breathing down her neck, or she goes back home and clashes with her parents.
Because London doesn’t have a filter.
''You’re a weird one, aren’t you?''
She basically tells it as she sees it. So when she meets the hunky and scarred guy who lives in apartment 2B, the last apartment on her exhausting list, she’s sure to bring some crazy in his life.
But he’s determined to not take a girl for a roommate.
"I have nothing against you, but I don't see this working for me."
London doesn’t give up that easily and makes a deal with him. If she makes it for two months, she’s in for the whole year. If not, then she leaves to never contact him again.
Easy, right? Not so much.
"You should have told me that you wanted me to be all over you."
When a guy and a girl live under the same roof, it’s bound to complicate things. Between banters, heady games of seduction, innuendos and insecurities revealed, the life in apartment 2B isn’t simple, and a few slips in their relationship doesn’t help the matter.
"You're driving me completely nuts. That's my fucking problem."
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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Poison in the Blood by @RobynBachar

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clip_image002Poison in the Blood

Bad Witch:

The Emily Chronicles

Book 2

Robyn Bachar

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Samhain Publishing

E-book: June 18, 2013

Print: June 3, 2014

ISBN: E-book 978-1-61921-587-0

ISBN: Print 978-1-61921-916-8


Number of pages: 272

Word Count: 55,711

Cover Artist: Kanaxa

Book Description:

She is honey to his throat…but one sweet taste could part them forever…

Banished from home while her husband adjusts to life as an immortal, blood-drinking chronicler, Emily Black is homesick, heartsick and struggling under the constant sensory barrage of a city drenched in ancient magic. When an old friend asks for her aid in solving a string of murders, she welcomes the distraction, despite the danger.

Justine Dubois is grateful for a seer’s help, and more understanding than anyone of Emily’s plight. As a guardian, Justine commands respect; as a woman, her magic is considered inferior. Together, they are determined to prove their worth to London’s magicians, starting with solving these murders—with maybe a bit of matchmaking on the side.

Long before he met his soul mate, Michael Black made a commitment to join the Order of St. Jerome. He will live forever, forced to watch the woman he loves age and die. As Emily hunts the murderer, Michael struggles to protect her. But if he loses control of his hunger, the greatest threat to her safety could be Michael himself.

Warning: Contains tortured soul mates, scheming faeries, vampire debauchery, deadly parasols, illicit blood-drinker relations, and adorable plot moppets.

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Readers can receive 30% off the ebook of Poison in the Blood from the Samhain Store by using the coupon code POISON14 at checkout.


Normally stepping into a garden would soothe me, but we were still within London, where there was no comfort whatsoever. I looked up at the night sky and wished I were with Michael.

“You have the soul of an artist, Miss Rose. It is a rare gift.” Mr. Paris stroked my hand, and I tugged it free of his arm. I folded both hands before me primly and smiled.

“Again, that is very kind of you.”

“I consider myself a patron of the arts.”

“So you attend gatherings such as this often?” I asked.

“Of course. I am always on the lookout for new talent.”

“I see. Did you know Mrs. Harding?” I tried to examine his aura to determine his reaction, but his magic continued to be so overwhelming that my eyes watered. Mr. Paris must be unspeakably powerful, and I found myself both worried and intrigued. Perhaps he was a sorcerer? One who specialized in darkness?

“I did. Poor girl. What a terrible thing to have happened to her and her family… Tell me, are you working on a second collection of your work?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“I am, though I am afraid the subject matter is quite a bit darker.”

Mr. Paris smiled a predatory grin, and my pulse leapt with a thrill of fear. “I am not afraid of the dark, Miss Rose. Are you?”

He stepped closer, but I held my ground, studying him with a curious tilt to my head. “What are you?” I asked.

He blinked, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“What sort of magic do you practice?” I clarified.

“Oh. I am a librarian, of course,” he replied, and I laughed, unable to help myself. “What’s so funny?”

“You are most certainly not a librarian. Do people truly believe that lie?”

The smile slid from Mr. Paris’s face as his expression hardened. He stepped forward and tried to grab my arm, but Miss Dubois was suddenly between us, a shining silver blur. With a snarl he turned and ran, and the guardian chased him out of the garden and into the street.

Uncertain of what to do, I followed. I stood hesitant at the garden gate, wondering which way they went. My vision shifted, and I followed Miss Dubois’s blazing footsteps. I paused next to a blur traced over the high brick wall of another garden. It was another magical doorway, rather like the one I had discovered near Mrs. Harding’s body outside the Undiscovered Country. Foolishly I raised my hand to touch it, despite knowing full well that doing so could trigger another vision, but a hand emerged from the brick wall and grabbed my wrist.

Overwhelmed with shock, I barely managed a strangled gasp as Mr. Paris stepped through the wall and glared down at me. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“You first.” My voice trembled, and Mr. Paris grinned. He tightened his grip and snapped several small bones in my wrist, and I screamed.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

Something bubbled up within me, a bright plume of prophetic magic that became my answer. “I am your end.” That time my voice did not tremble at all, but was filled with terrible certainty. I would cause Mr. Paris’s death, and I knew it with as much confidence as I knew the sun would rise in the morning.

Something in my gaze must have worried him, because he snarled. Scowling, he grabbed my forearm with both hands and twisted. The bone snapped like dry kindling, and I screamed again. Before he could torment me further Miss Dubois arrived and bashed him with a round silver shield. Mr. Paris vanished into thin air, and the guardian stood near me. One arm bore the shield, while in her other hand she held a sword. How cunning of her. I wanted a sword as well.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

My knees wobbled and began to buckle, but then two dark blurs streaked up to us, and I was suddenly swept from my feet and cradled close in Michael’s arms.

“Darling! What happened?” he asked.

“You caught me.” I blinked—however had he moved that fast? Simon sighed and shook his head at his student, and I sensed that Michael and I were both in for a scolding.

“Of course I did. I will always catch you. Are you all right?”




How long did it take to get your first book published?

It took three years between starting Blood, Smoke and Mirrors and being contracted for it. I joined RWA, took a lot of workshops, and did a lot of revising. Now it takes me a few months to get from the first draft to submitting the book.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

Poison in the Blood: It has magic, matchmaking, a murder mystery, deadly parasols, angsty vampires, adorable moppets, and love conquering all.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

I recently signed my ninth contract with Samhain Publishing. I hope to self-publish a few things in the future when time and finances permit.

What can we expect from you in the future?  ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

I’m planning more books in the Emily Chronicles, more books in my modern Bad Witch series, and I have books 2 and 3 in my spicy space opera series Cy’ren Rising out in September and December. In March 2015 I have a post-zombie-apocalypse erotic romance called Bite Me.

What genre would you place your books into?

Romance. Everything I write is romance. :-) My subgenres are paranormal romance, historical paranormal romance, sci-fi romance, and erotic romance. Pretty much if it has magic, swords and/or laser guns, I’m interested in writing about it.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

They’re all my favorites, because they’re all entertaining in their own ways. Emily is a ton of fun to write because she’s always ready to charge into socially inappropriate danger, and comes up with new polite ways to tell people off. She’s always at odds with her husband’s mentor. I love writing their arguments.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

No. I read reviews on review blogs or in RT, but I try to leave the rest to the readers. I know it freaks some readers out when authors read what they’ve posted on Amazon or Goodreads. I don’t want to hover. ;-)

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

The title is usually the last thing I think of. I suck at titles.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

I spend a lot of time on baby name websites. Google is convinced that I’ve been pregnant for five years. I tend to name minor characters after whatever I’m watching while writing. I have five characters named after players on the Chicago Blackhawks hockey team.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

I begin with an idea and it develops over time. Emily has toughened up over time. She hits a character in the head with a brick, which she definitely would not have done in her first book.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

Yes. Never trust a billionaire vampire.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

Well, I can tell you which one I prefer when it comes to moving: ebook. I filled up over 30 book boxes the last time I moved, and that was after I’d purged my collection for donations to the local library. An e-reader takes up a lot less space.

Your favorite food is?

Coffee. Coffee is its own food group, and it is essential to life.

Your favorite singer/group is?

Right now I’m very addicted to Florence + The Machine. I’ve been listening to the Ceremonials album obsessively in the car.

Your favorite color is?

Pink is my signature color. ;-) I’ve had pink hair a few times.

Your favorite Author is?

Nora Roberts is my all-time favorite author. I’m looking forward to the third book in her Cousins O’Dwyer trilogy.




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Robyn Bachar was born and raised in Berwyn, Illinois, and loves all things related to Chicago, from the Cubs to the pizza. It seemed only natural to combine it with her love of fantasy, and tell stories of witches and vampires in the Chicagoland area. As a gamer, Robyn has spent many hours rolling dice, playing rock-paper-scissors and slaying creatures in MMPORGs.

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