Sunday, May 28, 2017

When the Sky Falls - Thriller - Espionage - Historical #Historical #Thriller #Espionage #Contest

If you like historical espionage thrillers and conspiracies, check out When the Sky Falls. This book has it all.

The author is also hosting a great contest.

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Thriller / Espionage / Conspiracy / Historical
Date Published: March 24, 2017

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“What makes you believe a lie? I’m not asking how you know someone is lying. What makes you believe? Because if you don’t understand how that works, then you won’t know when you’re being manipulated.”

In 1938 the War of the Worlds hoax panicked millions of Americans, then in 1988 another fictional media broadcast convinced nearly half of Portugal that sea monsters had risen from the ocean to destroy their cities. A team of CIA agents was sent to study the aftermath of this 6th Skyfall Event in the hope that they could turn it into a weapon of war. When the team consultant turns up dead, everyone scrambles to be the last man standing: the one who will decide if or when the sky falls.




Excerpt

 “What makes you believe a lie? I’m not asking how you know someone is lying. What makes you believe? Because if you don’t understand how that works, then you won’t know when you’re being manipulated.”

William Stephenson, The Nature of Sky Fall Events


Porto, Portugal. October 30, 1988. 8:13 p.m.

            The lights flickered and went dark, that’s when it started. Luis reached up and adjusted the bulb with his fingers. The hot glass burned his skin. He gritted his teeth as the sensation grew stronger. He doubted the bulb was the problem. The TV, fan and even the street light outside the apartment all died in the same moment. “Is this normal for an earthquake?”

            Car headlights flashed through the windows reflecting off Renata’s long, dark hair. “It’s not an earthquake. They already said that.”

            Luis let go of the bulb. Only a moment ago, the emergency broadcast system had come on the air. It’s strobing red light, and high pitched siren blared through every apartment. It was followed by men in lab coats being interviewed. They warned everyone that something was coming, and before they could finish the power cut out, the one thing they had said was, “it’s not an earthquake.”

            The street outside the window was still lightless, and Luis went to check the fuse box. It wouldn’t do much good. If the entire neighborhood lost power, it clearly wasn’t a fuse, but at least it was something to do.

            Renata took his hand. Her fingers trembled. “It’s not the fuses; it’s not our lights. Let it go.” Behind her, the old cement walls were spidered with cracks. They had been like that when they moved in.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He pressed his lips together and looked out the window. Outside, a family loaded into a car; the trunk overflowed as the father kicked at it until the latch held. They piled in, each with a pack on their lap. The mother sat in the passenger seat. In her hands, she held a pistol. Her husband got in, and the car roared to life. A few people emerged onto the street carrying packs, or bags. They all headed east, away from the coast. That’s where the scientist said it would start, on the coast.

“The phone lines,” Renata’s voice wavered, “They use a different power source than the electrical grid, right?” She wiped at beads of sweat forming on her forehead. “For emergencies, right?” She swallowed hard. “I’ll try and call my mom,” She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. The lines in her face deepened the longer she held the phone. She frowned and jabbed at the disconnect lever several times. “The phones are dead.” Her skin paled. “The phones,” she licked her dry lips, “are dead.”

Luis was still for a long time. Strange muscles deep in his stomach twisted. Something terrible was happening, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He didn’t even know what it was. There was a worry in her soft brown eyes; he wanted to protect her, keep her from feeling this way. He walked over and put his hand on Renata’s cheek then kissed her. “We’re leaving.”

She nodded towards the bags they’d started to prepare midway through the broadcast. “Do you think this will be enough?” She rested her head on his chest.

The electricity surged back, lights blazing to life. The TV flashed it’s red warning again. After a moment, it changed to a camera feed from inside a helicopter. A reporter bobbed in and out of the frame. “We’re flying over the city of Vila de Conde, only a few kilometers from Porto.” He pointed to something off camera. “While it seems a much weaker force is headed this way, it will strike here first. That should give us some idea of what to prepare for.” The wind whipped his hair wildly and drowned his voice out. The camera focused in over the ocean. White edges of curling waves shifted as they crashed against the shore. City lights reflected on the water; then the whole city blinked out. “What the hell?” The camera jerked up over the blackened city. A loud guttural cry screeched through the TV speakers, and the reporter's voice shouted, “What in God’s nam—” The image on the TV shook and rotated like someone dropped the camera, then the screen cut to static.

Every beat of Luis’ heart pounded in his chest, teeth, and fingers. He waited for the static to end, for someone to come back, to tell them what happened.

Renata grabbed his hand; her pulse was rapid; throbbing in the vein on her neck. When she spoke, the words sounded strange like her mouth was dry after hanging open for too long. “What’s happening?”

Through the window, they saw a car slam into the small market across the street. Glass shards toppled down and shattered on the hood. Two men got out and kicked at the remaining jagged edges. With sacks in their hands, they hustled inside and filled the bags with food and supplies. They tossed them into the backseat and doubled back for more. A box of spaghetti fell out of the passenger side and burst open. Noodles splayed out on the pavement, breaking under the boots of the men as they hurried back and forth.

“I need to get something.” Luis rushed to the bedroom and pulled a pistol from under the bed. He loaded it and placed several ammo boxes in a bag before returning to his pack in the living room.

The static on the screen finally ended. A news anchor sat at a desk; sweat dripped down his face. He wiped at his brow. “It’s clear now, from this footage.” A small image on the side of the screen grew larger. It was a distant shot of the city of Vila de Conde. The entire coastal edge was gone. The hotels, resorts, beach houses. All gone. Some bits of rubble smoldered in the darkness. “This has been some sort of attack.” He stopped, and his face became stern. He sprayed saliva as he shouted at someone, “I can’t … God damn it … I can’t say that on TV. No one will believe it!” He shoved the desk over and stood; then turned and walked a few steps towards the back of the set.

A husky male voice came from off screen. “Do you believe it?” There was a pause, but the anchor kept walking. The husky voice spoke again, pleading this time, “Someone has to tell them. They have to know.” He yelled with urgency in his voice, “We saw them!”

The newscaster stopped and looked over his shoulder at the camera. “Tell them to run.” He disappeared off camera, and the screen went to static.

The lights flickered a second time, then went dark. Luis held his hand over his mouth. He stopped breathing for a moment and counted his heartbeats. He waited, but the lights didn’t come back.

With heavy packs strapped to their backs, Luis and Renata staggered into the street towards their car. A traffic jam built up behind the vehicle that had crashed into the market. People dashed inside, stealing food. The narrow European street swelled with a growing mob as they disembarked their cars to investigate the problem.

A man got into the obstructing car and attempted to reverse out. The center of the frame teetered on the curb, and the wheels spun over the slick cobblestones.

A massive man with a thick beard exited his truck. “What’s wrong with you?” He thrust crude gestures with his hands, then stopped and summoned the other stalled drivers to the stranded car. He pantomimed his intention.

Seven men gathered around the small European car and tipped it onto its side, but the vehicle still blocked the road. They shoved and kicked, but the road wouldn’t clear. Thick-beard threw up his hands, gathered his gear from his car and started walking.

Luis’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand it.”

“Do you need to?” Renata gripped his shoulder, the tips of her nails bit into his skin. “They told us to run.”

Abandoning their car, Luis and Renata joined the panicked herd. They ran, shoved and bumped into each other as they maneuvered around the empty cars. The weight of the pack made Luis unstable as people jostled against him. As each person collided into him or reached out to stabilize themselves, his balance wavered. The straps dug deep into his shoulders. The heavy load labored his run. People were constantly pressing past. He made Renata go first so he could keep an eye on her.      

A tall man with wide shoulders shoved Luis into the side of a car. He stumbled and grabbed the mirror to keep from falling. Renata screamed. He turned as she plummeted to the ground a few feet away, disappearing into the mad swarm of human bodies.

Luis surged forward ramming people until he found her. He tried to help her stand, but the mob kept pressing forward, and Luis fell on top of her. A foot crunched down on his hand; then a knee jabbed into his ribs. Droves of people crashed against his body. His hair got caught on something, and it ripped a patch from his skull. A trickle of blood dripped from his scalp onto Renata’s face.

Luis pressed his lips to her ear. “The gun is in my pack. Fire the gun.” He didn’t feel her searching the bag, too many hands, knees, and elbows jabbed and thrust into him, but he heard the gunshot, next to his ear. It thundered, and his whole body tensed. The thundering didn’t end. His ear rang, and it felt like someone was trying to hammer a nail into his brain. He saw Renata’s face, she was shouting, but he couldn’t hear her anymore, couldn’t hear the crowd, the waves of pounding feet on stone, just a high-pitched pierce in his ears.

The crowd stopped pressing down on him. They’d backed away. He got to his feet. Renata still lay on the ground. Luis dragged her into the bed of a truck. She cried and kept trying to say something, but he couldn’t hear it. Her face flexed in pain. He scanned her body and saw the ankle. Human bodies, human feet don’t bend like that. The tibia seemed to be jabbing down through the foot, forming a large bulb at the bottom, and the ankle swelled thicker than her leg.

The crowd swarmed back. Luis slumped down beside her. His eyes lingered on her face, her eyes. She couldn’t walk, not on her own. Whatever was coming would catch them. How will you take care of her? Luis took the gun from her hands. He studied the pistol for a long time, its dark oily finish, the weight of it in his hand, a weapon. If he couldn’t run, then he would fight. He crawled out of the truck bed to the car just behind. He rested the pistol on the hood and stared out into the darkness. Luis saw the white curling waves. Whatever it was, came from the ocean, he knew that. He waited a moment, watching the water, trying to see it. Nothing, just darkness. He pulled the trigger then looked at Renata. Broken. Helpless. His eyes welled up with tears. Fight. Even if you can’t see it. Fight. He fired again, fired until the gun was empty.


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            Pedro stood on a grassy hill overlooking the city of Porto. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Flashlights bobbed in the dark like swiveling dots, spreading away from the coast and into the countryside. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. It came away with a mixture of dirt, sweat, and mud. He’d marched his family through the dust cloud of the exodus. He and his wife, Beatriz, had fought with sticks to protect their young children as they ran through the streets. The blood streaks on Pedro's knuckles were only partly his. He reached for the canteen around his neck and poured out a small handful of water to wash his hands.

            Beatriz slipped her fingers through Pedro’s gray-streaked hair. “Can I have a drink?” In her arms their two-year-old slumbered, dirt crusted snot clung to his nose. One arm hung loosely away from his body.

            Pedro lifted the canteen to his wife. “Anything new on radio?”

            She finished her drink. “Still just static.” She kissed her son on his forehead, and her wet lips came away powdered with dust. “I turned it off an hour ago. We should check again.”

            “Yeah.” Pedro nodded and headed towards the tents and campfire. His two older children were sprawled out next to the flames. On a tree stump sat a battery powered radio, its antenna tilted toward the city. He could make out the larger buildings by moonlight, but nothing electrical brightened the horizon. He flipped the radio on. Static buzzed through the speakers.

            “You have to help it.” Beatriz approached and placed her hand on the antenna. The static cleared, and a voice filled the camp.

            Pedro’s entire body stiffened at the familiar voice. The reporter who had refused to say what he had seen, the news anchor that had walked off the camera. The man who told everyone to run. His voice was heavy with emotion. He admitted he was an actor, and the entire scare had been a hoax. He took a deep breath and repeated the message.

            “Holy mother of God.” Pedro dropped his head into his hands. “It wasn’t real. None of it was real.” His voice trembled. “We left everything.”

            Beatriz stumbled and then lowered herself to the ground. Her eyes welled up. “We’re safe.” She kissed her son repeatedly. “We’re safe.”

            Pedro jerked up. “Safe?” He raised his voice, the tone sharp, “Safe?” He thrust his arm towards the city and pointed. “They lied to us.” He picked up a rock and lunged to his feet, running towards the distant city. He hurled the stone into the open plain below. “Why!”

            After a long moment, Beatriz pulled him close. “The power is still out. That was real. Something happened.”

            Pedro stared down at the city. The flashlight dots had changed direction, but the city remained dark. His body numb, he slumped down, never taking his eyes from the city. The message on the radio continued to repeat. It had been a hoax, a lie. The radio cut to static and a single light sparked in the city. It grew into a massive flame taller than any building. The fire burned brighter throughout the night but never spread. Something had happened, not the lie they told, but something.


------


The Old CIA Building, Langley Virginia. 10:09p.m.

Silas Cooper sat behind his desk reviewing surveillance reports. His black hair slicked with a heavy gel that reflected the light. He ran his hand through it and some collected along the edge of his finger. He rubbed it aggressively into his skin until only a sheen remained. Someone knocked at the door but opened it before Silas could respond.

Costly, in a vested suit, entered holding a stack of Portuguese Escudo bills bound with a rubber band. He swaggered over to Cooper’s desk and tossed the money down. “Guess what?”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit. What do you want?” Silas’ lips curled downward, and his chin tightened.

Costly flashed a crooked, toothy grin. “There’s been a Sky Fall Event in Portugal.”

The room went still and Silas chuckled. “Finally.” He let out a contented sigh. “How big?”

“Half the coast. Multiple cities.”

“Jesus.” Silas’ smile faded. “Where’s Stephenson?”

 “Shit, you’re not going to like it.” Costly hung his head. “As far as we know he’s in London —“

Silas cocked his head to one side, then back to the other. He pointed at his colleague with the file in his hand. “Now, I know you're full of shit. I ought to break your teeth for this.”

Costly held up his hand apologetically. “No jokes. It happened, and he is that close, but,” he directed Silas to wait with an index finger. “He doesn’t have his plane with him. He’ll have to take the trains, and that should buy you some time.”

“Not enough.” Silas pocketed the money. “Get me Stephenson’s list. Cross out anyone not fluent in Portuguese or Spanish.”

“Already done.” Costly pulled a file from his briefcase. There were two columns of names; all but one were crossed out.

“Jay Nichols,” Silas read. “What’s his experience?”

“Two weeks here in Langley.”

“Are you God damn kidding me? You want to feed a puppy to the lion?”



Goodreads Book Giveaway

When the Sky Falls by Joseph Bendoski

When the Sky Falls

by Joseph Bendoski

Giveaway ends May 31, 2017.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

About the Author

Joe Bendoski study psychology in college and was fascinated by all the insights it provided into human behavior, only to realize most the information never reach people, and when it did, rarely was it in a form that allowed for practical application. He started writing non-fiction, but soon came to understand how few people read that genre and began the difficult transition into fiction writing. His non-fiction works include; the Chemistry of Attraction and the Language of Emotion. 
He worked as the head writer for the television show ‘Saved by Grace.’ After being frustrated with comments like "make this scene cheaper," "What's my motivation?", and "Do we need this scene?" he deiced to go in to literature.


Contact Links

Twitter: @JBendoski

Purchase Link





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Saturday, May 27, 2017

Cover Reveal - Silas: A Playboys Liar Novel #CoverReveal #Erotica

Please help S.R. Watson celebrate the cover reveal for Silas. He's one hot dude!

Read on for details...

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Title: Silas: A Playboys Liar Novel (Part 1) 
Author: S.R. Watson 
Genre: Erotica Release Date: June 5, 2017





My name is Brennan Delavan and I'm 21 years old. I grew up in a home of the privileged, but as the daughter of the help. When I became of age, I worked along side my mother to earn my keep. My cynicism for the world in which I live, is with merit. I’ve experienced first hand how the circle of wealth monopolizes opportunities that are just beyond reach for everyone else. We're merely hamsters in a turning wheel with an illusion of freedom and equality. I no longer dream of being more. I have accepted what is. My mother is now dead. My father died before I was born. I don't need to exist outside the walls of my reality. I AM THE HELP!
My name is Silas Lair and I'm a sex extraordinaire. Sex is my business and my gift. Every facet of sex that you can conceive, is a realm of my empire. My yacht, The Playboy's Lair, is just one of my many entities and is currently my primary domain. I'm very protective of my domain and who I let infiltrate my space. When I'm asked to hire a new housekeeper as a favor to my most trusted house manager, I oblige. The moment Brennan crosses the threshold of my yacht, my guard erects ten fold. Her jaded attitude and introvert mannerisms can only keep her safe from me for so long. She is an enigma, one that I have every intention of getting beneath me. She walked right into my world of sex - my lair. There is no room for innocence here. I will fuck my curiosity of her out of my system and carry on with my legacy.
Fuck or be fucked. The only two options I live by. I choose the former.



Cover Designer: Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative





 “So I … I mean we won’t be involved in illegal sex stuff then, right?”
I swear she is too fucking cute. Illegal sex stuff? Why does she slide past my asshole tendencies? Anyone else would have gotten a serious ass chewing—a verbal beatdown for even asking something so stupid. The duplicity is a double-edged sword. I want to fuck and protect her at the same damn time.
“As opposed to what, the legal kind? Is that what you want? To be a participant?”
     Now, I’m just fucking with her again. I can’t help it. I watch as the mask of strength slips off her naked, makeup-free face. Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline, and her breath hitches. My dick throbs against my jeans. I bet she is a virgin. I’d put my net worth on it. Her virginal skin beneath my hand is too much to ask of myself to resist. Goddammit to hell. She walked right into my lair of sex—a fucking virgin.



S.R. Watson is a Texas native, who currently resides in Wisconsin. She grew up reading the Sweet Valley series (Twins, High, & University) among others. Although she wrote countless stories during high school, she never published any of them. She continued her education and became a registered nurse. After reading the Twilight series and 50 Shades Trilogy, she decided to pursue her passion for writing once again.
S.R. Watson published her first book in 2014. She is the bestselling author of the Forbidden Trilogy, The Object of His Desire, and the co-authored S.I.N. Trilogy with Shawn Dawson.
When S.R. Watson is not writing or working as a CVOR nurse, she loves to read and binge watch her favorite shows (Scandal, How to Get Away With Murder, Smallville, and reality challenge shows.)





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Friday, May 26, 2017

The Royal Treatment - Romantic Comedy & a Contest #RomanticComedy #Contest


MJ Summers is here to tell us about The Royal Treatment, a romantic comedy. Sounds like fun.

There's also a great contest. Read on for details...

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Title: The Royal Treatment (A Crown Jewels Romance, Book 1)
Author: MJ Summers
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Women's Fiction, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 23, 2017



Enough laughs to satisfy fans of Bridget Jones. Enough sparkly shoes and breathtaking ball gowns for fans of Cinderella…
Twenty-eight-year-old Tessa Sharpe, a.k.a. The Royal Watchdog, hates everything about Prince Arthur. As far as she’s concerned, he’s an arrogant, lazy leech on the kingdom of Avonia. When he shocks the nation by giving her the keys to the castle in an attempt to boost his family’s dismal public approval ratings, Tessa has no choice but to accept and move in for two months. It’s lust at first site, but there’s no way she can give in to her feelings—not if she wants to have a career or a shred of pride left when her time at the palace ends.
Ultra-private, ultra-hot Crown Prince Arthur has always gotten by on his charm. But that won’t be enough now that the royal family is about to be ousted from power once and for all. When Prince Arthur has to rely on the one woman in the kingdom who hates him most, he must learn that earning the love of a nation means first risking his heart…
Can two natural enemies find their forever in each other’s arms, or will they ruin each other to save themselves?
Get your copy today and be part of the feel-good fairy tale!


Prince Arthur:
When we reach the vault room, there are two guards standing at the door. Normally there is just one, sitting on the inside; but for nights like tonight, there are a total of six. I nod, and one of them opens the door.
“Good evening, fellows,” I say.
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
Once inside the room, we go through the same routine with the other four men. I go to the keypad and press the code, then hold my face in front of the camera for a retina scan. When I look down at Tessa, she actually looks impressed.
“A little Bond-esque, no?” I ask.
“Very.”
“Come on, Moneypenny, let’s get you something for that beautiful neck of yours.” I tug her hand and pull her in with me before she can say no.
She’s already shaking her head, but I hold up one finger. “I can see those Sharpe family brains of yours going to work on ten different reasons why you won’t borrow a necklace, but I have already prepared counterarguments, and since we are now twelve minutes behind schedule, please allow me. One, they’re already paid for, some of them hundreds of years ago, so it’s not coming out of anyone’s taxes. Two, like the books in the library, they’re going to waste in here. Three, for the first time in my life, I want to share something with someone else—someone who deserves to feel like a queen, even if she’ll only allow herself that for one measly little evening. Four, I have this fantasy of seeing you in only the jewels. Maybe the heels could stay.”
Tessa laughs and her cheeks go pink. “All right. One necklace, but make it a cheap one.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Define cheap.”
“Less than a kitchen stool.”
“How about less than a car?”
“Sofa.”
“I said ‘queen.’ Would a queen really wear a sofa around her neck?” I reach up and run my fingertips along the base of her neck.
“Would she wear a car?”
“Good point.” I lean down and kiss the crook of her neck. “How about this? You choose whichever one you like the best, and I won’t tell you how much it’s worth.”
I continue to brush my lips along her skin, then move up to her earlobe. The other night, I discovered a little spot at the base of her ear that turns her to putty. After a moment of some careful work, I get what I want. A breathy, little ‘okay’ escapes her lips.




MJ Summers currently resides in Edmonton, Canada, with her husband, three young children, and their goofy dog. When she's not writing romance novels, she loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. MJ also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something. More like just staying until they turn the lights off.
MJ is a member of the Romance Writers of America, as well as the International Women's Writing Guild.
MJ would love to hear from you! She does her best to respond to all inquiries and emails personally. If you would like her to attend a book club meeting via Skype please contact her to book a date.




*The Crown Jewels Series is a light romantic comedy, very heavy on the laughs with a low steam level (but lots of delicious sexual tension and some swearing). This is a HFN ending with the second and third books in the series featuring the same couple.
Book 2: The Royal Wedding (Summer 2017)
Book 3: The Royal Delivery (Late Fall 2017)






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Thursday, May 25, 2017

The Last Valentine - Romance & Mystery #Romance #Mystery

Felix Alexander is here to tell us about his romantic mystery The Last Valentine. Love the cover!

Read on for details...

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Romance, Mystery
Date Published: February 2017
Only $0.99

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The fate of two best friends and the secret love between them is known only to a mysterious figure who offers to aid one in hiding the truth from the other...lest their lives and love meet a tragic end.

When Olivia Villalobos finds a bloodstained love letter she endeavors to deliver it before Chief Inspector Sedeño finds it in her possession.

A city along the southern coast of Puerto Rico emerges in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War. Olivia, daughter of a drunkard police investigator who never knew the truth behind her mother’s disappearance, finds a bloodstained love letter in the hidden compartment of her father’s coat. Convinced it belonged to the man recently found dead she sets out to deliver it to the Labyrinth of Love Letters. A mysterious place believed to be an urban legend where the transients of forbidden love leave missives for one another. She enlists the help of Isaac Quintero to find the Labyrinth and they soon realize their quest has opened the door into Old Sienna’s darkest secrets—the perils, madness and depth of tragic love.

About the Author


Felix Alexander (1976-Present) is a Mexican-born, American-raised novelist, and poet of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent.

Acclaimed by readers for his poetic prose, his indie releases include: Dear Love: Diary of a Man's Desire, a collection of love letters and poems; The Romantic: A Love Story; and most recently an epic historical fantasy Shadows of Time: The Amulet of Alamin along with a mystery-thriller The Secret of Heaven.

Being third-generation military, after a grandfather and uncle who served in the Korean War and Vietnam War, respectively, Alexander is proud of his service in the U.S. Army, and grateful for his experience.

After his honorable discharge from the U.S. Army, he embarked on the long and arduous journey of a writer. Having made a name for himself during his tenure, serving his country, he vowed to himself and his fellow soldiers that he would answer his true calling.

When not spending time with his children, a son and daughter, he journeys through the portals in his extensive, personal library. When he returns, he immerses himself in his writing, and pursues the scent of his muse.

Contact Links


Purchase Links
ONLY $0.99! 



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Wednesday, May 24, 2017

d4 - Speculative Fiction #SpeculativeFiction #Clairvoyance

Ready to try something different? Give d4 a try - speculative fiction by Sherrie Cronin.

Read on for details...
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Speculative Fiction 
Date Published: Jan. 31, 2015
Publisher: Cinnabar Press

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A clairvoyant young woman finds her visions of the future to be a nuisance, until she discovers that she is hardly unique. An entire group of seers has learned how to profit from their knowledge in ways that Ariel has never considered. Another group is obsessed with using their talents to understand a dark future they cannot ignore.
An alliance with either crowd looks dangerous, given that they both seem a little crazy. There is no possible way to help them both. Worse yet, each group is convinced that Ariel is more than a potential asset; she’s the one thing that they must have in order to fully succeed.



About the Author

Sherrie Roth grew up in Western Kansas thinking that there was no place in the universe more fascinating than outer space. After her mother vetoed astronaut as a career ambition, she went on to study journalism and physics in hopes of becoming a science writer.
She published her first science fiction short story long ago, and then waited a lot of tables while she looked for inspiration for the next story. When it finally came,  it declared to her that it had to be whole book, nothing less. One night, while digesting this disturbing piece of news, she drank way too many shots of ouzo with her boyfriend. She woke up thirty-one years later demanding to know what was going on.

The boyfriend, who she had apparently long since married, asked her to calm down and  explained that in a fit of practicality she had gone back to school and gotten a degree in geophysics and had spent the last 28 years interpreting seismic data in the oil industry. The good news, according to Mr. Cronin, was that she had found it at least mildly entertaining and ridiculously well-paying  The bad news was that the two of them had still managed to spend almost all of the money.

Apparently she was now Mrs. Cronin, and the further good news was that they had produced three wonderful children whom they loved dearly, even though to be honest that is where a lot of the money had gone. Even better news was that Mr. Cronin  turned out to be a warm-hearted, encouraging sort who was happy to see her awake and ready to write. "It's about time," were his exact words.

Sherrie Cronin discovered that over the ensuing decades Sally Ride had already managed to become the first woman in space and apparently had done a fine job of it. No one, however, had written the book that had been in Sherrie's head for decades. The only problem was, the book informed her sternly that it had now grown into a six book series. Sherrie decided that she better start writing it before it got any longer. She's been wide awake ever since, and writing away.

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Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Make Me Crave is out! #TinaDonahueBooks #KindleWorlds #Menage

Do you like menages and smoking hot sex and alpha males and hot Texans?

If yes, I have a treat for you.

Make Me Crave - contemporary menage



Blurb:

She’s run from a dangerous man into the welcoming arms of two strong Texans. Justice will be served. Lives will change. Passion won’t be denied.

Having fled New York and an abusive relationship, Mia’s hiding out at Intimate Cravings, her private BDSM resort. The action’s scorching, her security guys beyond hot. Ex-military, Chance and Riley are everything she’s craved but figures she can’t have. When it comes to ménages, she’s a virgin, and they might not be interested.

Think again.

One problem solved. However, she suspects her ex is stalking her.

Riley and Chance aren’t about to let anyone harm Mia, a smart and determined woman they intend to pleasure and protect. Her ex might be bold on Wall Street. In Texas, he won’t last a minute against them.

Bound by love, the threesome sets a trap that will bring Mia peace and lead them to sultry days and impassioned nights.


Excerpt:

Tonight’s auction played out on the ballroom stage, the submissive properly naked and shackled, her gaze lowered. Spotlights stole whatever privacy she might have had. The hooded Dom wore his black leather well and stood to her side in the shadows. Some might say he exuded quiet authority. Many would insist he showed impending menace.
A smile tugged at the sub’s pouty mouth. She and the other guests understood this was only a carnal game meant to seduce, thrill, and delight.
Mia Strand made damn certain no one crossed any line during their stay. Intimate Cravings, her private club and resort, offered whatever a consenting adult would covet—BDSM, voyeurism, sexual fantasies, and more. Better yet, the ranch proved a short drive from Austin, a liberal enclave in an otherwise staid and uptight Texas.
Cowboys, cowgirls, bikers, and businesspeople mingled more easily here than they would in normal society. This evening, some guzzled beers. Others sipped fine wine or threw back tequila and various hard liquors. Numerous private rooms awaited those who preferred to play behind closed doors. The eighty-acre land boasted additional seductive pleasures outside.
The auction commenced. Patrons in office attire, Western finery, and biker wear shouted their bids, the men far more generous than the women.
Despite this evening’s revelry, Mia rolled her shoulders and tried to relax, to reason away her disquiet. Her decision to buy this ranch as her escape and hideout from New York had proved sound. Money flooded in faster than she would have expected. Most importantly, no one in her past would think to look for her in Texas of all places.
Everything was perfect.
Almost…
Chance Thorpe and Riley Baker skirted the building crowd.
Mia’s stomach fluttered with outrageous longing. A reaction she couldn’t seem to stop since she’d hired them to run her security team.
Both men were in their early thirties, six-three or more, and a zillion percent male—the rugged outdoor kind, nothing citified or prissy. Snug black tees hugged their broad shoulders and sculpted abs, black jeans moulded to their powerful thighs. They strode with a panther’s grace and quietly accessed the surroundings.
As Patsy Cline’s Crazy poured from the sound system, Mia understood how poor Patsy felt. Love sucked when it died or got dangerous. She’d fled Kipp and their so-called relationship before things grew too scary. Hooking up with a guy wasn’t on her dance card any longer. Indulging in two lovers was downright insane, no matter their allure.
Chance’s tat peeked from beneath his left sleeve. The design sported bold and brutal swirls, totally masculine, same as his bruising biceps and shoulder-length black hair. He’d tied his mane back with a leather cord, like a modern-day pirate.
Her mouth went dry at the thought.
Riley’s dark stubble was a delightful contradiction to his thick blond hair, cut short on the sides and back but long enough on top to dangle over his forehead. Those locks begged for a woman to ease them back. Chance’s hair urged a female to set it free.
No way would she go there with either man. She squeezed her fists tight enough to hurt.
“Well, hey, we’ve been looking for you.” Avery ran up and threw her arms around Mia.
Isaac McCoy, Avery’s husband, smiled from behind.
Mia grinned in return and patted Avery’s ringlets, perfect for a fairy-tale princess or a preacher’s daughter, which Avery was. Even with her old-fashioned upbringing, she’d landed Isaac, also known as Badass in BDSM circles.
He shouted above the escalating noise. “Your place is looking good.”
“Thanks to you.” Mia had happened upon his bar Hardbodies, learned he was into the lifestyle, and brainstormed with him about what to offer at her resort. He’d proposed nightly events like the one going on now. Then he suggested she hire his buddies Chance and Riley to head security.
She didn’t argue with him on any point, especially about them.
Riley and Chance conferred with a stocky team member. He nodded to them, elbowed through the horde, and pulled a young guy from the stage staircase before he could get to the sub and her Dom.
“Hey.” The troublemaker flailed his arms. “Let go.”
Another team member snatched the guy’s longneck.
“Fuck you, that’s my beer. Give it back.” He grasped wildly for it. “Get your damn hands off’a me.”
The security guys pulled him toward the front entrance. Several women blew kisses or waved bye-bye to him. He fought like the Devil to get back to them, but couldn’t break the team’s hold.
Riley scanned the others here.
Chance turned and met Mia’s gaze.
Her heart pounded fiercely. Heat barreled through her.
Avery tapped her hand. “What’s everyone bidding on?”
Chance’s lushly lashed eyes seemed lighter in the shadowed room, his irises’ green tint a perfect complement to his olive complexion.
Unsteady, Mia locked her knees. “Huh?”
“The bids.” Avery leaned in. “What are they for?”
Voices rose above the music.
The Dom strode across the stage and displayed numerous straps in his beefy fists. Some leather proved thick yet supple, others thin and firm. Each meant to pink up a sub’s ass and deliver an initial sting followed by warmth and pleasure.
Mia didn’t doubt Chance would wield the belts with precision and expertise, exactly as he did everything else. Riley would perform as spectacularly.
She inhaled deeply to calm herself. Didn’t work. “Ah, they’re bidding on what the Dom will use for the sub’s discipline and how far it will go. One lick, two, three, whatever, and whether he’ll use a strap, paddle, flogger, or something else. Highest amount wins the punishment of his or her dreams, acted out on stage. Within reason, of course. No one ever gets hurt here.”
“I would hope not.” Avery pulled out her smartphone.



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