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Hearts Akilter by Catherine E. McLean {@CatherineMcLea7} #Scifi #Romance #ASMSG

HeartsAkilter_w9882 high resolutionblurbLove, vengeance, attempted murder, and a bomb…No reason to panic.

When a medical robot insists he’s having a heart attack, Marlee Evans, a pragmatic maintenance technician, has every reason to panic. There’s a bomb inside him.  Since Marlee can’t risk the bomber discovering she’s found the device, her only option is to kidnap Deacon Black, an unflappable bomb expert, and secretly convince him to disarm it.  Things go slightly awry when Deacon sets a trap for someone who is trying to kill him, and inadvertently captures Marlee instead.  Instantly intrigued by her refreshingly forthright and gutsy attitude, he’s smitten.  Unfortunately for Deacon, Marlee recently hardened her heart and swore off men, especially handsome ones with boy-next-door grins.  But as Marlee and Deacon attempt to identify and prevent the bomber from detonating the device, they discover that love may be the most explosive force of all.

Available Now

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excerpt

HEARTS AKILTER

By Catherine E. McLean @ 2015

The bomb. Right. Dismantle the bomb. In this lift? No, that was insane. “Marlene, if the bomb goes off accidentally—”

“It’ll blow the station to kingdom come?”

He nodded.

“Not to worry.”

She said that with such nonchalance that he found himself speechless. He cleared his throat. “Why not? Did you snatch the portable Bomb Disposal Unit, too?”

“Better.”

“What’s better than a BDU?”

“Garbage incinerators.”

“What?” He glanced out into the darkness beyond the lift.

Giant machinery stood silhouetted and veiled in shadows. “Where are we?”

“Deck forty-three, Ring D zero three. Relax. Don’t panic.  They once accidentally incinerated a torpedo in number four, over yonder.”

She pointed to the left. “Nobody heard or felt it explode, and there wasn’t even a drail’s worth of damage done to the incinerator, or anything else.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It happened three years ago. I was there, a deck above.

Never mind.”

Henry manipulated his finger appendage, grabbing and briefly tugging the shirt sleeve of Deacon’s good arm. “Marlee would never lie about anything so important.”

“Does she lie about unimportant things?” He instantly regretted his caustic remark.

“I do not know.” Henry spun sideways, facing Marlee. “Do you lie about unimportant things, Marlee?”

“I have been known to tell a white lie now and then to spare someone’s feelings, but on the whole—” She looked away from Henry.

As her blacker than black eyes met his gaze, Deacon felt pinned to the wall.
authorbio

Besides Catherine being a wife and mother, she has ridden and exhibited Morgan Sport Horses. She’s an avid CatherineEMcLeanclothing and costume designer, an award-winning amateur photographer, a 4-H leader, and a Red Hatter who loves bling.

She lives on a farm nestled in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains of Western Pennsylvania. In the quiet of the countryside, she writes fantasy, futuristic, and paranormal stories where a reader can escape to other worlds for adventure and romance.

Her short stories have appeared in hard-copy and online anthologies and magazines. Besides having two novels published, soon to be released is her lighthearted fantasy/sci-fi romance HEARTS AKILTER. Catherine also gives writing workshops, both online and in-person. A schedule is posted at http://www.writerscheatsheets.com/workshops.html

Catherine’s website for writers is  http://www.WritersCheatSheets.com and she blogs at http://writerscheatsheets.blogspot.com/

Hub Website: http://www.CatherineEmclean.com

Connect with Catherine at: http://www.catherineemclean.com/contact-me.html

 


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Traitor (Maelstrom Chronicles #2) by @jodywallace #Giveaway #scifi #ASMSG

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TRAITOR_500Traitor
Maelstrom Chronicles
Book Two
Jody Wallace

Release Date: July 28, 2015

Genre: Science Fiction Romance

Publisher: Entangled

blurbCaptain Nikolas EstherVorn is a traitor. Or so it was decreed after Niko disobeyed protocol while trying to save Earth from other-dimensional creatures. Stuck in a prison cell, the last thing he needs is to be in close proximity to sexy-as-sin Dr. Sarah CallenJoseph. Not with him damn near ready break out just to get to her.

Niko’s desire isn’t quite his own…and Sarah can prove it. He—along with the other soldiers on the disastrous mission—were drugged with some kind of toxin. Niko has no clue how the drug got into his body or why, but Sarah suspects there’s a link between the toxin and the fertility crisis of Shipborn humans.

To investigate is forbidden. But as lust becomes something deeper, binding them together in a way neither expected, Niko and Sarah must battle time—and their superiors—to uncover the secret that could save humanity…or destroy it.
authorbio
Jody Wallace grew up in the South in a very rural area. She went to school a long time and ended up with a Master’s newpic14Degree in Creative Writing. Her resume includes college English instructor, technical documents editor, market analyst, web designer, and general all around pain in the butt. She currently lives in Tennessee with her family: one husband, two kids, two cats. One of her many alter egos is “The Grammar Wench,” which should give you an indication of her character. She is a terrible packrat and likes to amass vintage clothing, books, Asian-inspired kitchenware, gnomes, yarn, and other items that threaten to force her family out of the house. She also likes cats. A lot.
Jody publishes the Maelstrom Chronicles with Entangled Publishing, an Earth-based science fiction romance series. You can find other science fiction, paranormal, and contemporary romances by Jody at http://www.jodywallace.com, including her horrible science fiction romance spoofs, The Adventures of Mari Shu, which make fun of the Maelstrom Chronicles, among other science fiction concepts and stories.

Website: http://www.jodywallace.com

Blog: http://blog.jodywallace.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jodywallace

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

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/jodywallace

Newsletter: https://madmimi.com/signups/104974/join

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The Reaper’s Daughter by @KM_Randall #Paranormal #DarkFantasy #Giveaway

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the_reapers_daughterebook2The Reaper’s Daughter
The Reaper’s Daughter Series
Book One
KM Randall

Genre: Paranormal/Dark Fantasy

Publisher: Booktrope
Date of Publication: 5/9/15

ISBN: 978-1-62015-841-8
ASIN: B00X90741G

Number of pages: 244

Cover Artist: Shari Ryan

blurbI’ve always felt like an average girl … except for my strange relationship with death. You could say I like to court it. Whether I’m soaring through the air as a flyer for Specter University’s cheer squad, or speeding down the steepest mountain with only grace and balance keeping me from an icy end, I’ve always needed to feel a rush. But now Death is courting me―in more ways than one. First, there’s Rishi, a rogue death deity who has a penchant for annoying me nearly to my grave and whose intense gaze has the power to see right through me. Then there’s Hades, who I’d rather had stayed just a myth. Now that he knows I exist, he’s not going to leave me alone until I meet the same end as my mother.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention her? I spent my whole life thinking she had died when I was a baby, but now I’ve found out she’s much more than dead. Fifty years ago, Hades banished my mother from the underworld and took away her ability to cross over souls―souls that have wandered lost through the world ever since. Now she wants me to clean up the mess.

You may have heard of her before…

They call her the Grim Reaper.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/SATOtS9Ehuk

 Buy Links

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excerptPresent

THE ROLLING GREEN of her eyes was dimming fast, losing color and life to the quick click of time that beat out her days and nights, a perpetual circle that was now fading to a close. Light brown hair that had been recently styled into looping curls was limp against the black pillowcase―a metaphor for her wilted spirit, I mused, thinking offhandedly how proud my English professor would be at my thoughtful use of language.
I sighed. I didn’t want to be here.
When her eyes met mine, I knew she saw me for who I really was—what I really was. She reached out an eager hand to take mine. I didn’t want anything to do with it. But it wasn’t because her fingers were slick with blood, deep crimson dripping down her arm and fingernails from where she’d so precisely placed a razor blade to her vein and dug deep, thinking she’d be free of her pain. It was because her face reflected back to me all the times I’d felt I’d been given a shitty deal. Current situation: case in point.
“Hi,” she whispered, her once pink lips fading with every pump of her life, which was idly dripping away from her to the plush white carpet below. I could smell the newness of it, the fresh aroma of a recently laid floor. That’s going to be a bitch to get clean.
I looked around her bedroom, at the dance trophies and pictures of smiling friends, and wondered why. Why me? “Blake …” Hearing my mother’s warning tone, I looked over at her where she stood in the shadows, overseeing my tutelage.
“Why can’t we just call an ambulance? It’s not too late. They could save her,” I whispered fiercely, staring at the girl’s hand stretched out to me as if I were her savior and not her end. “We should save—”
“It’s not for us to decide, you know that. We are only here to bring souls over, not save their mortal lives. Take her, she wants to go.”
“And will she still feel the same when she’s looking down at her body?” I asked, not even bothering to check my mother’s expression when she didn’t answer. Suicide wasn’t a peaceful death. It was pain―that much I knew.
I choked back the tears that wanted to rise in my eyes for this girl, for me … I turned to her once more and leaned down, brushing a strand of her hair from her graying face. “What’s your name?”
Barely blinking, her pale eyes darted to me. “Carly,” she said, choking around her words.
“Just hold my hand and I’ll help you cross,” I said softly, forcing myself to meet her gaze so that someone would witness her ending as they had her beginning.
She smiled slowly, and I saw that in life she had been pretty. When she’d believed. When she’d had hope.
“The light?” Her eyes widened, glittering green for a brief moment in their otherwise colorless depths at the prospect of going somewhere beautiful after this life had been so cold.
I nodded, although I didn’t really know where she would go. I was only in training, but I hoped it was someplace good, where her tormented soul could rest.
She had small, feminine hands, I thought, as she laced her slippery fingers around my longer warm ones. She didn’t last long, her pulse giving one last flutter before sputtering out.
The room was suffused with the silence left behind in the absence of such a simple thing. The thundering lack of a person’s heartbeat had never seemed quite so loud. As life departed Carly’s mortal coil, her soul lifted from the body, but unlike some souls I’d seen that were light and buoyant, at peace with the next step in their existence, hers was outlined in darkness, and it rippled, suspended in space like a special effect in a bad horror film. Her gaze turned from her body to me, sorrow coming to settle on the slope of her bowed shoulders and in the recesses of her eyes. Regret was a fickle creature. It always came too late.

authorbio

As a girl, K.M. always wished she’d suddenly come into magical powers or cross over into a Faerie circle. Although KM Randall Author Photothat has yet to happen, she instead lives vicariously through the characters she creates writing fantasy and paranormal.

When K.M. is not busy writing her next novel, she serves as a freelance editor and writer. She has a master’s degree in journalism from Syracuse University and a bachelor’s degree in English-Lit from Nazareth College of Rochester. K.M. lives in Upstate New York’s Finger Lakes region with her husband, her extremely energetic little boy, and their crazy goldendoodle Luna (short for Lunatic)

Learn more at http://www.kmrandallauthor.com/

@KM_Randall

https://www.facebook.com/authorKMRandall

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8125589.K_M_Randall

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The Sephra’s Tear by @RobynBachar #Giveaway #Fantasy #ASMSG

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The Sephra’s TearThe Sephra's Tear front

Just One Spell

Book One

Robyn Bachar

Genre: Fantasy Romance

Publisher: Robyn Bachar

Date of Publication: 06/01/15

ISBN: Ebook 978-0-9963490-1-7

ISBN: Print 978-0-9963490-0-0

ASIN: B00YPRRYGM

Number of pages: 318

Word Count: 63,770

Cover Artist: Amygdala Design

blurbJust one spell will change their fates…

Cordelia is a pawn of House Dorchada—a notorious noble family comprised of thieves, assassins and dark wizards. Desperate to avoid their poisonous politics, Cordelia plotted her escape for years, but her carefully laid plans are jeopardized when her father commands her to marry an aged lord of Frostever.

With only a few short months left before her wedding, Cordelia’s salvation hinges on creating a Sephra’s Tear—a forbidden amulet that causes overwhelming lust in its victim. A black market buyer promises a life-changing amount of coin as payment for the Tear, but being caught creating it carries a death sentence.

Two wizards are needed to produce the passion to fuel the erotic spell, so Cordelia recruits the aid of peasant wizard Nathaniel Ravenwood. Nathaniel has long denied his desire for the beautiful Cordelia. As a noblewoman and a Dorchada she is as dangerous to Nathaniel as a viper, but the fortune she offers is a temptation he can’t refuse.

Dealing in dark magic comes with a price, and Cordelia and Nathaniel risk losing their freedom—and their hearts. Their fates depend on the one spell that will free them, or destroy them.

Amazon  Barnes and Noble  Kobo  Scribd   iTunes   All Romance eBooks

Grab it at Smashwords for $1.99 Use Coupon Code: ME32Q

excerpt

“Have you made your decision?” she blurted.
“I have. I see you have quite a few books on Majera.”
Cordelia frowned at the change in subject. “And here I thought I’d done a good job of hiding them. I don’t want to appear too interested, lest they look for us there.”
“What will you do there? They are strict about punishing wizards who cast illegal spells.”
“The Tear will be my first and last illegal spell. I imagine we’ll do much the same that we do here—sell potions and robes.”
“You won’t live like this if you do.” Nathaniel waved a hand at their opulent surroundings.
“All this is a gilded cage. I’d rather starve as a wizard than live comfortably as a bored lady of the house.”
He shook his head. “I doubt you’ve ever gone hungry.”
“Would you give up your magic and live a life where you’re expected to only concern yourself with the goings on in the kitchen and the quality of the linens? Oh, and be expected to pleasure a stranger forty years your senior whenever he wishes, for the express purpose of providing him with mageblooded children? Children who will undoubtedly be sold one day to seal some political deal, just as you were?”
“I’m sure it’s not so terrible.” His expression was skeptical, and she shook her head.
“Spoken like a man. Most noblewomen are little more than broodmares in a luxurious stable. I want more than that.” Cordelia pushed the thoughts away, determined not to dwell further on Lord Eben. Nathaniel studied her with a thoughtful expression, and she was distracted by how tall he was—even taller than her brother Alexander, who had loomed over her like an ill-tempered mountain since they were children.
“Are you going to help me create the Tear?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me, my lady. My poverty has overwhelmed my better sense, otherwise I wouldn’t agree to this. But I have done some research these past few days, reading about similar lust spells, and as I understand it the Sephra’s Tear is quite unique. We can’t approach this like any other simple spell or potion.”
Cordelia’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh? Why not?”
Taking her hands in his, he drew her over to the divan. Nathaniel ran his thumbs across her knuckles and she shivered at his touch. “A Sephra’s Tear is more than just a lust spell. That is part of what makes it difficult to cast. Any pair of wizards can manage the basic…physical requirements of a lust spell, but a Tear needs the intense pleasure that results from truly understanding your partner’s needs. It requires intimate knowledge. Not just of how to please each other, but how to prolong the experience enough to create a potent Tear.” Nathaniel paused, as though searching for the right words to explain before continuing. “If you’ll forgive the example, it is the difference between having a lover and visiting a whore.”
“I see.” Cordelia licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “I hadn’t considered that.” She had never let anyone know her so intimately—Cordelia’s previous lovers had only seen the polite facade of the Lady Dorchada. She had never trusted any lover enough to be completely honest with them.
“Are you certain you still wish to do this?”

authorbioImage1

Robyn Bachar enjoys writing stories with soul mates, swords, spaceships, vampires and gratuitous violence againstthe kitchen sink. Her books have finaled twice in the PRISM Contest for Published Authors, twice in the Passionate Plume Contest, and twice in the EPIC eBook Awards. As a gamer, Robyn has spent many hours rolling dice, playing rock-paper-scissors, and slaying creatures in mmorpgs.

You can find Robyn online at http://www.robynbachar.com and on Twitter at @RobynBachar.

Website    Newsletter    Twitter     Blog

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Desecrated Beauty by Kyleigh Castronaro #Giveaway {@kcastronaro}

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desecrated-beauty-coverDesecrated Beauty

Twisted Fairy Tales

Book One

Kyleigh Castronaro

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: July 6th

Number of pages: approx. 180

Word Count: 58,883

Cover Artist: Kyleigh Castronaro

blurbOnce upon a time, that’s how most of these stories start. But this isn’t one of those stories… Sure, it has the heroine and the hero but they’re not as you would expect them. Both of them have a bloodlust, one different from the other.

Quill was born and raised as a cold killer who takes enjoyment from the kill. Nero is the son of a Viking and a 1500-year-old vampire whose never been denied his pleasures before.

Until he meets Quill. He forces her to exchange her life for Rose’s, his indentured servant and Quill’s little sister. Drawn by her fearlessness and strength he has to have her but such a woman cannot be possessed. Both must learn to give up their carefully afforded control to let the other in. Only then may they have their happily forever after.

Sink your teeth into this dystopic re-telling of Beauty and the Beast and satiate your booklust.

http://getbook.at/desecratedbeauty

excerpt

“I thought I might choke and die on your blood, but because I’ve already ingested some I would come back to life… like you.” She looked up at, her eyes wide with the panic that had gripped her before looking down at her feet again and taking a deep breath. She hated feeling vulnerable in front of him like this. But most importantly she hated not having all the answers like he seemingly did.

“The process is a little more complicated than that, but you would be temporarily held in a state between beings until I decided to claim you.”

“And would you have?” She looked up, her voice quiet as she spoke. There was an underlying fear in her question. A part of her was repulsed by the idea and yet the rest of her longed to know he would have her. She needed to know he would keep her even if she weren’t the feisty human woman he claimed he was so intrigued by. When had she decided that his opinion of her was that important? When had she decided at all to allow a man to determine her fate?

Nero looked back at her unflinchingly as he moved closer to her, reaching out and tracing her lips gently before bringing his hand up along her jaw toward her ear. His fingers toyed with the hair tucked behind her ear before he shook his head at her.

“I would have to, I’m afraid to admit.”

She stared back at him in surprise, unsure of what she was supposed to say. She was far too distracted by his lingering fingers and how they gently caressed her skin, moving along it and forcing it to blossom into gooseflesh.

Bringing herself back to the moment she swallowed hard, forcing some kind of sound from her lungs, “why?”

“Because you have enraptured me in the most illogical way. Never before has a human woman been able to hold my attention for so long. Something about you calls to me like a familiar lullaby I once knew.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “My life will last forever but trifling with a mortal can feel like an eternity in hell. Humans by nature are far too slow, uncultured, undomesticated and someone my age doesn’t have the time to break something like that. But then I met you… You, curious you, who fights back, who questions me, who doesn’t want me in the way all women who have ever looked at me have. I don’t understand it, but I want to and worst of all I want you in a way I have never wanted anyone. I don’t need others, but I need you. I feel myself longing for it and whether it would be against your will or not I would change you because I cannot live without you.”

“One day you will have to.” She whispered quietly, staring at him with a bewilderment he had grown so accustomed to.

“Not today.” He whispered back, his voice much lower than hers as he leaned in and caught her lips with his. It was a bruising kiss that she felt all the way down into her toes. It ached in a way that touched her heart and soul. She felt it flow through all her veins and consume her like a fire.

authorbio

Kyleigh Castronaro is the author of the debut series Grace of Gods. She is a self-published author who tackles many Image1of her projects entirely on her own. She designed the cover of her first novel, self-edited and prepared all formats of the book for publication. Originally from Milton, Ontario, she currently lives in Nottingham, England with her husband and their adorable miniature dachshund Hera.

When not writing Kyleigh enjoys spiritual development, crafting, travelling, spending time in nature, going to the movies, cooking and baking (and then eating), working on self-improvement and spending time with friends and family.

http://kyleighcastronaro.com

http://twitter.com/kcastronaro

http://pinterest.com/kcastronaro

https://www.facebook.com/authorkyleighcastronaro

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8415377.Kyleigh_Castronaro

http://Author.to/KyleighCastronaro

 

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Spotlight: Rush by Penelope Rivers #Giveaway #ASMSG

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Rush_1400X2100-300dpiRush
Penelope Rivers

Genre: Gay Werewolf, M/M PNR

Publisher: ARe Books

Date of Publication: July 1, 2015

ISBN: 9781943576142

Word Count: 50,000

Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill

blurbOut of desperation and danger comes love. What a rush!

Strapped for cash, Dante Kinnaird agrees to sell a sample of his werewolf DNA to the owner of a security company intent on breeding fierce and fearsome dogs. Dr. Crios Mantzaris Karras III, a brilliant but arrogant scientist, creates the serum and gets on Dante’s last nerve. Dante can’t wait to cash his check and get away from this man.

Crios’s ego takes more than a beating when his hybrid were-dogs become uncontrollable and terrorize the countryside. Dante knows he must make things right, and puts aside his feelings for Crios as they team up to stop these bloodthirsty monsters.
In the heat of battle, he never expected those feelings to change.
excerptTwo hours later, Dante sat strapped in the chair as Crios ran his fingers over his bare arm, seeking out a vein so he could draw blood. The other man didn’t hesitate before thrusting the needle straight into his inner elbow. Dante barely felt the needle dipping into his skin. To him, being prodded was nothing.
Crios examined the dark crimson liquid that filled the syringe, his eyes gleaming. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” Blood was blood, after all.
Crios sighed as if dealing with the questions of the common man was oh-so-exhausting. “Werewolf blood looks the same as human blood.”
A grin covered his face before he could stop it. “Did you think that werewolves bleed blue or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Blue blood? Whoever heard of such a thing? This is reality, not a comic book.” Miffed, Crios shook his head. “I just wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ve never worked with werewolves before, so for all I knew your blood could have had a different consistency and color than a human’s.”
“I take that to mean you haven’t been gene mashing werewolves and animals for long?”
Crios picked up the vial of blood and transplanted it into a metal vat beside him. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t even know that werewolves existed until Norm shared the truth with me. And even then, I was skeptical until I did the research myself.”
“I wonder how Norman discovered werewolves.” He reminded himself to ask Norman when he returned from the restroom. Werewolves were a pretty well-kept secret, and for a good reason. If the human population discovered their existence, then their kind would never be left alone.
Pulling a white cotton ball from his pocket, Crios rolled it between his thin fingers. “Norm told me that he saw a werewolf transform when he was walking home from a bar. After that, he couldn’t get thoughts of werewolves out of his mind. He dug around and found out all about them.”
Well, it looked like Dante hadn’t needed to wait until Norman returned from the restroom to question the man after all. “The werewolf who was seen should have been more careful. Most of my kind tries not to transform in the presence of humans. It’ll put us in danger.”
“Accidents happen, I guess.” Crios shrugged. “Open.”
“What?”
“Open your mouth.” Crios rolled his eyes. “I have to do a swab.”
“Oh.” He blinked in surprise before opening his mouth wide. Maybe he was being ridiculous, but he could only pray that his breath didn’t stink.
The man ran the cotton swab along his cheek and then opened a plastic bag and put it inside. As Crios laid the bag next to the blood sample, Dante couldn’t help but feel mounting curiosity in regards to this brilliant but socially inept person.
“Have you always liked science?” He noted how natural Crios appeared floating around in his lab coat.
“Science isn’t something I like as much as it is something that is in my blood.” Crios pushed the glasses further up his nose. “I come from a family of scientists. My mother and grandfather were brilliant chemists. I, however, chose to specialize in a few different scientific fields. I figured that I’m smart enough to work in several different scientific areas at once.”
I love how he had to add a little self-plug in there…”You just made it sound as though you don’t like science.”
“Like I said, science runs in my blood. That’s all there is to it. It’s not a matter of me liking or disliking it.”
“But what’s the point spending your life doing something you hate?” He’d rather spend his life trying his best at something he enjoyed even if he was crappy at it. “It sounds like you’re setting yourself up for years of pain and misery. I don’t know why you’d do that.”
“I don’t hate science. I just don’t particularly like it.” Crios stopped talking as his face became the color of a freshly plucked plum. “Why on earth am I talking to you about this? I shouldn’t have to defend my life choices to a perfect stranger.”
“Sorry.”
Crios huffed and pulled another cotton ball from his pocket. “This is why I hate dealing with people. It’s always so exhausting.”
Other people were exhausting? Dante had once had to run fifty miles in one go, and that had tired him out less than this conversation. “Sorry I’m such a trial.”
In response to his jab, Crios said nothing. Zilch. Nada. The guy probably hadn’t even noticed his tone.
“Do you have any family?” He wanted to know how Crios had ended up so much like, well, Crios.
“They’re all dead.” Not even a smidgeon of emotion crept into Crios’s crisp voice. Dante had heard someone become more emotional about a deceased goldfish.
Still Dante’s stomach twisted. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My parents were non-existent in my life even when they were alive.” Once again, Crios delivered the earth shattering information with emotional detachment. It was strange that the man blew up over the eggs on his sandwiches, but spoke without remorse about his own dead family.
“Still, you have to miss them.” It would be impossible for him not to.
“No, I really don’t.”
The man had to miss them a little. “Not at all? Oh, come on.”
Annoyance flickered in Crios’s steely eyes. “No, I don’t. Not at all. Not even in the slightest bit.”
The words made Dante fall silent.
“Open,” Crios snapped, prodding his lips with a cotton ball.
At once, he opened his mouth.

authorbioPenelope Rivers is an erotic novelist of M/M romance novels and short stories. A hopeless dreamer, she spends her day thinking about all things fantasy, romantic and not. It is her view that when you start choking on the occasionally dry bread of life, you need something sinfully delicious to chase it down with. Currently, she lives in Utah with an abnormal amount of pets.
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009714120727

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4998872.Penelope_Rivers

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Spotlight and #Giveaway: Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire by Victoria Danann @vdanann

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TwoPrincesCoverTwo Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire

Sons of Sanctuary

Book 1

Victoria Danann

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: 7th House Publishing,

Imprint of Andromeda LLC

Date of Publication: June 16, 2015

Number of pages: 300

Word Count: 90,000

Cover Artist: Victoria Danann

blurbBrigid Roan is a graduate student at the University of Texas. She had no trouble getting her thesis approved, but finding a Hill Country motorcycle club willing to give her access to their lifestyle had started to seem impossible. Then she got a lead. A friend of a friend had a cousin with ties to The Sons of Sanctuary.

What she wanted was information to prove a proposition. What she didn’t want was to fall for one of the members of the club. Especially since she had set out to prove that motorcycle clubs are organized according to the same structure as primitive tribal society.

Brash Fornight was standing in line at the H.E.B. Market when his world tipped on its axis. While waiting his turn to check out, his gaze had wandered to the magazine display and settled on the new issue of “NOW”. The image on the cover, although GQ’d up in an insanely urbane way, was… him.

After reading the article, Brash threw some stuff in a duffle and left his club, The Sons of Sanctuary, with a vague explanation about needing a couple of days away. He left his Jeep at the Austin airport and caught a plane for New York, on a mission to find the guy who was walking around with his face.

Two brothers, one a player, one a playboy, are on a collision course with destiny and a woman who thought she won a prize when she was allowed a look inside the Sons of Sanctuary MC.

Available at Amazon  BN   Kobo   iTunes

excerpt

“Sir?” Brash Fornight gradually became aware that someone behind him in the grocery checkout line was trying to get his attention. “Sir?” He refocused and glanced behind him. The woman leaning on a cart overflowing with chip bags and cookie boxes nodded toward the cashier indicating that it was his turn to move forward. Brash looked her in the eye and had to give her props. Most people wouldn’t have the balls to try to herd a guy wearing Sons of Sanctuary MC leather.

The club employed a woman who cooked and did grocery shopping several times a week as part of her job description, but Brash didn’t like to explain his relentless craving for peanuts and he liked being teased about it even less. He didn’t know whether it was the Vitamin B or the fat or just because he liked the taste, but he couldn’t imagine going a day without them.

That’s how he came to be standing statue still In the grocery checkout line, being prompted by some woman with more nerve than sense. While he was waiting, his eyes drifted over the magazine display and settled on the cover of “NOW”, on the Most Eligible Bachelor edition no less. The debonair figure staring back was wearing Brash’s own face and body. He looked different with short hair and a four thousand dollar suit with the shirt fashionably open at the neckline, but the similarity was inescapable.

On impulse he grabbed the magazine and tossed it onto the conveyor belt with his week’s stash of peanuts.

He stuffed the bags into the saddlebags of his bike and roared toward home, nervously tapping his fingers on handlebars at red lights, riding on shoulders to keep from slowing down. He was anxious to get to the privacy of his own room and read about Branach St. Germaine.

Two beers, one jar of peanuts, and one “NOW” article later, Brash was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at the wall, seeing nothing but his own heavy thoughts. He pulled out his phone, looked up a website, and waited on hold for ten minutes to hear the time of the next flight from Austin to New York.

There was a flight to Newark in a little over three hours. He looked at his watch and calculated the time it would take to drive from Dripping Springs at that time of day. As he booked the flight, he stood up, walked to the small closet, grabbed a duffel bag, and began shoving stuff into it. Ten minutes later, he closed his door and locked it, threw the duffel over his shoulder, and headed straight for the office downstairs. He dropped the duffel on the hallway floor beside the closed door and knocked.

“Yeah?” Brash looked inside, glad that his dad was by himself, and stepped in. “What’s up?”

“I’m takin’ personal time, Pop. Gonna be gone for a couple of days.”

“What the hell is ‘personal time’?”

The gruffness made Brash smile. “It means I’m not gonna be here if you call and I’m not tellin’ you why.”

The Sons of Sanctuary President looked up at Brash, over the top of his readers, and narrowed his eyes. “You got a secret?”

“Everybody’s got secrets.”

Brandon Fornight studied his son for a minute. “True enough. Is it the kind of secret that could affect this club?”

Brash shook his head. “Don’t see how.”

“Well, then. See you… When did you say you’d be back?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bein’ purposefully vague, are you?”

Brash grinned. “That’s why they call it personal time. But I expect to be back Friday.”

“You gonna have your phone with you?” When Brash nodded, Bran looked back down at his ledger in a deliberately dismissive gesture. “Well, get outta here then.”

Brash parked his bike in the airplane hangar. The structure had already been on the property when the club had bought it and turned it into a compound twenty years earlier. They used part of it for vehicle maintenance and repair and part for parking.

Some of the guys who were working looked over and shot curious glances his way when Brash threw his duffel into his pickup and started it up, but it wasn’t their way to ask questions. The Sons figured that if somebody wanted you to know something, they’d tell you.

Brash took a cab to a midtown hotel, wondering all the way why human beings would choose to live in such a place. As he slid his credit card across the hotel counter to the agent on duty, he glanced at the name, Brandon Fornight. It seemed unlikely that it was a coincidence that that the mysterious look-alike’s first name began with the same four letters. He ordered room service and pulled out his laptop.

Getting intel on the guy didn’t take advanced ops. Within an hour Brash knew where Brannach St. Germaine worked, what kind of car he drove, what kind of women he dated, who his tailor was, and where he liked to dine. There was no shortage of photos online, but the one that grabbed his attention wasn’t one of the many with starlets or debutantes on his arm. It was the one taken with his arm around his mother as they were arriving together for some red carpet fundraiser. Brash had an almost irresistible compulsion to reach up and touch her face on the screen in front of him.

The knock on the door signaled that room service had arrived. It cost a fortune, but looked and tasted like shit. So he closed the computer and went out for a walk to clear his head and find something edible.

authorbio

USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Danann, is making her debut into Contemporary Romance with releases in May and June 2015, after taking the world of PNR by storm.

Her Knights of Black Swan series won Best Paranormal Romance Two years in a Row (2013, 2014). ~Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.

Victoria’s paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on “imaginary” creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, past life therapists, or financial analysts from Dallas. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners – usually – whether they be elves, demons, berserkers, werewolves, or vampires.

The first book of the Knights of Black Swan Paranormal Romance Series, My Familiar Stranger, was nominated for Best Paranormal Romance of 2012 by both Reviewers’ Choice and Readers’ Choice Awards. All of her books have opened on the Amazon Best Sellers list and earned Night Owl Reviews Top Pick awards.

Many have appeared on Listopia Book of the Month as #1 across all genres.

For books published in 2013, Black Swan won three awards.

  1. Best Paranormal Romance Series
  2. Best Paranormal Romance Novel – A SUMMONER’S TALE
  1. Best Vampire~Shifter Novel – MOONLIGHT.

In 2014, Solomon’s Sieve won Best Vampire Novel.

Photo- If you’re interested in me personally, I am also a classically trained musician who defected to Classic Rock and that’s my first love. Yeah. Even more than writing.

This is Roadhouse, the very best in Classic Rock, taken near The Last Concert Cafe, Houston Texas, 2011. I was the utility player which means I played rhythm guitar, keyboards, sang backups and a few leads.

www.facebook.com/vdanann

www.facebook.com/authorvictoriadanann

https://www.facebook.com/groups/772083312865721/777140922359960/

https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/108735-victoria-danann-order-of-the-black-swan

@vdanann

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Sarai’s Fortune by Abigail Owen #Giveaway @AOwenBooks #ASMSG

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SaraisFortune_w9602_750Sarai’s Fortune

Shadowcat Nation

Book 2

Abigail Owen

Genre: paranormal romance

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Number of pages: 246

Word Count: 60,000

blurbZac Montclair’s first priority is to protect his people. With the escalating war between factions of shifters over land and resources, he has agreed to an alliance between his polar bears and the Shadowcat Nation of cougar shifters. But the treaty comes with a condition…he must accept one of their Seers into his Timik and put her under his personal protection.

Sarai Bouchard doesn’t need her supernatural gift to know that Kyle Carstairs’s obsession with controlling her ability will eventually result in her misery and demise. Her power is essential to her people’s survival, so when Kyle goes rogue, she’s sent to Zac Montclair to keep her safe. However, her visions reveal that while staying will lead to their becoming lovers, it also leads to his death. Leaving Zac will result in her own.

If Sarai can’t find a way to change the future, she will be forced to choose…save her lover or save herself.

Excerpt Book 2:

Sarai concentrated on precise, sharp movements with as much power as she could muster. She’d only been working out for ten minutes or so. She’d started the day similarly  yesterday. She cooked breakfast, eating with the guys. She dragged George and Scott on more sightseeing trips. Today she’d decided to explore a small portion of Central Park. She didn’t try to lose them this time. When they’d got home, they’d hit the gym.

Now, Sarai tuned out Scott and George—who were sparring across the way from her—to focus on her own drills.

“How about you try that out on a man who moves and reacts.”

Sarai spun on her heel to find Zac standing behind her. He was wearing running pants and a tight tank top, which meant she didn’t need to use her imagination to picture the muscles of his arms and chest. They were on display. Her own personal show. Sarai swallowed.

Then she computed what he’d said. How was she going to get out of this? The truth was she couldn’t spar. Her visions messed her up. But that was a secret she had no intention of sharing with three people.

“Not really a good idea.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he glanced over her shoulder at George and Scott who’d stopped to listen. “I’ve got this, fellas. Why don’t you go back up to the apartment?”

There was no doubt in her mind that was a command, not a suggestion. Clearly the guys thought so too. She watched them leave the room with wide eyes.

As the door closed behind them, Zac’s hands landed on her shoulders, turning her to face them. “Okay, kuluk. It’s just you and me now. What are you not saying?”

Sarai had never felt this vulnerable in her life. Or this scared. This man got to her in a way no one else ever had. How was she supposed to resist that?

“Why is this so important to you?”

He moved his hands from her shoulders to frame her face, his fingers threading through the dark blond strands of her hair. “Keeping you safe is important to me. I need to know how much you can defend yourself if you have to. It will help me determine just what I need to prepare for. No surprises. Okay?”

Sarai took a deep breath. He couldn’t have meant it that way. Just the thought of being important to this big, strong man connected with the frightened, lonely little girl who’d spent her life just trying to survive. But she couldn’t think that way. She had to leave him, and that knowledge made her want to cry.

Seeing her hesitation, he brushed her cheeks softly with the pads of his thumbs. “Let me help you with this burden,” he murmured softly, his voice a hypnotic, deep rumble.

Sarai bit her lip. Sharing this with him really wasn’t that big a deal. She knew she could trust him.

On a deep inhale, she gave a tiny nod and started talking before she could change her mind. “Okay.”

He gave her one of those rare little half-smiles, making her suddenly very glad she had agreed to capitulate. Thankfully, he released her and stepped back, giving her room to breathe.

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Andromeda’s FallImage4

Shadowcat Nation

Book 1

Abigail Owen

Genre: paranormal romance

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Date of Publication: 12/10/14

ISBN: 978-1-62830-661-3

ASIN: B00PM6T2YW

Number of pages: 258

Word Count: 61,300

Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor

blurbAndromeda Reynolds is being hunted. After witnessing her mother’s violent death at the hands of a pack of wolf shifters, Andie has devoted her life to protecting her community of cougar shifters from a similar fate. But now, a greater threat lies within her own dare, and she must run. If she stays, Kyle Carstairs will force their mating, seeking the added political power their union would provide.

Andie would rather chew off her own foot than end up with Kyle. Though, knowing him, she won’t live long either way. Andie’s only hope of survival is to mate Jaxon Keller, the Alpha of the Keller Dare with which she is seeking asylum. But before she can get to him, Andie must first go through A.J., one of the Alpha’s Protectors.

What Andie doesn’t realize is that A.J. has secrets of his own. All Andie knows is that the incredibly frustrating shifter insists on challenging her story, her skills, her trust… and her heart.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/VPoOg6WFolo

Series Pinterest Board:

https://www.pinterest.com/abbyowen/the-shadowcat-nation-series/

Available at  The Wild Rose Press  

Amazon   BN   Apple   Kobo

Excerpt Book 1:

He glanced down at her. “You really are a tiny thing, aren’t you?”

Andie scowled. “Don’t let my size fool you. I can pack a wallop when I want to. Even with a broken arm.”

A.J. laughed. “I’m sure you can.”

Andie stared straight ahead, her mouth thinning. She hated being patronized. Men were so dense sometimes. They never took her seriously until she showed them exactly why they should.

Keeping her left arm protected, Andie suddenly dropped. One leg shot out and she spun low to the ground, sweeping A.J.’s feet out from under him. As he landed on his back, she was on top of him, her knee on his windpipe—not crushing, just sending a message.

Before she could gloat too much, though, she was flying through the air. Andie tucked into a back flip, landed on her feet, and then spun and launched herself backwards in a one-handed back handspring. A.J. had just gotten on his feet when her legs wrapped around his neck. She used her momentum to drop him back to the floor.

Andie rolled and ended up in a crouch close by. A.J. held up his hands in surrender. “All right, wildcat. You’ve proved yourself.”

Andie glared at him. “Don’t doubt me. And don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you just lost either,” she said in a severe voice, made harsher, perhaps, by the fact that she’d just realized exactly how incredible his blue eyes were. They were a vibrant color made even more interesting by the black ring that rimmed the irises. And she was more than irritated with herself for having noticed that at all.

He levered himself up off the floor. “Fair enough.”

The only thing that kept her from proving her point more—because she could tell he’d held back—was the small amount of respect she could see in his eyes. With a brusque nod, she followed him down the hall.

Seer-Meme Zac-Meme

authorbio

Award-winning paranormal and contemporary romance author, Abigail Owen was born in Greeley, Colorado, and Image5raised in Austin, Texas. She now resides in Northern California with her husband and two adorable children who are the center of her universe.

Abigail grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. A fourth generation graduate of Texas A&M University, she attempted to find a practical career related to her favorite pastime by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing). However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it.

Website/Blog: http://abigailowen.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Abigail.Owen.Books

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AOwenBooks

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/abbyowen/

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June Tour Giveaway

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eBook copies of Hannah’s Fate (prequel) and Andromeda’s Fall (Shadowcat Nation #1)

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Spotlight and #Giveaway: Twist of Fate by @Christina_OW #paranormal #ASMSG

TwistsofFate_MEDblurbLife had been great these past few weeks. I have a hot boyfriend, got back my dad and my adopted sisters were happy with their significant others. Life was good. That is until I started getting attacked by bouts of pain that would render me unconscious. Something was wrong with me, Ash knew but he wasn’t sharing. Worse than that, Steve in the worst form possible is back to haunt me. And Ash with his hug archaic pride just won’t let it go. Oh, but I haven’t gotten to the worst part yet…hell!

What’s a girl to do to get some long term happiness?

Dukkha Fate Series
– Sweet Romance.

-Sweet Romance

-Interracial, Multicultural, New Adult, Paranormal, Werewolf.
-Hero is Native American, heroine is African American with East African origins.

When a man with an ancient grudge meets and falls in love with the innocent girl who’s life was ruined by his vendetta, complicated isn’t word enough to describe the situation he finds himself in. His chance with her would be shot to hell if she were to find out his role in her family’s death. She would probably take the news that he was 325 year old werewolf much better.

Get the series preview The Beginning FREE https://christinaow.wordpress.com/fate-series/the-begining/

Buy Link

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Twists-Fate-Dukkha-Book-ebook/dp/B00Y3UHYR0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1432358827&sr=8-1&keywords=twists+of+fate+christina+ow

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authorbioChristina OW writes suspense, thrillers, erotica, interracial and multicultural romance books. She is the author of Contemporary, Fantasy, Paranormal Romance books and a poet of currently 3 titles. She loves reading novels that take her on a ride of wild emotions. Books have always been an escape for her, for a few hours she gets to live the lives of characters she grows to cherish and admire. She’s always had an active imagination and because of it has lived in her head more than she has been in the outside world. She always imagined scenarios and wondered how they would turn out in the end, and what kind of emotions they would invoke. Thus began her writing career.

Author Links

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christina-OW/254729541266869

Twitter https://twitter.com/Christina_OW

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5817911.Christina_OW

Website http://tmdangel.wix.com/chrisitnaow

Blog https://christinaow.wordpress.com/
Amazon Page http://www.amazon.com/Christina-OW/e/B00A8XYFM8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

Newsletter Sigh Up http://tmdangel.wix.com/chrisitnaow#!news-and-events/c1pz

Book List http://tmdangel.wix.com/chrisitnaow#!books/cnec

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $20 Amazon Gift card and other giveaways. For multiple entries visit Christina OW’s Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christina-OW/254729541266869?sk=app_228910107186452

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The Witch of Painted Sorrows by M.J. Rose #Giveaway #ASMSG

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the-witch-of-painted-sorrows-9781476778068_hrThe Witch of Painted Sorrows

M.J. Rose

Genre: Gothic – Erotic

Publisher: Atria/S&S

Date of Publication:  March 17 2015

ISBN-10: 147677806X

ASIN: B00LD1ONBC

Number of pages:384

blurbNew York socialite Sandrine Salome flees an abusive husband for her grandmother’s Paris mansion, but what she finds there is even more menacing. The house, famous for its lavish art collection and elegant salons, is closed and under renovation. Her grandmother insists it’s too dangerous to visit but Sandrine defies her — an unexplainable force is drawing her home.

There she meets Julien Duplessi, a mesmerizing architect, who introduces her to the City of Lights — its art world, forbidden occult underground, nightclubs — and to her own untapped desires.

From a mysterious fire at the Palais Garnier opera house, to a terrifying accident at the Eiffel tower and classes with Gustav Moreau at the École des Beaux-Arts, Sandrine’s experiences awaken her passions. Among the bohemians and demi-monde, Sandrine uncovers her erotic nature as a lover and painter.

Then more ominous influences threaten — her husband is tracking her down and something insidious is taking hold, changing Sandrine, altering her. She’s overcome by the spirit of La Lune, a witch, a legendary sixteenth-century courtesan, and an unsung artist in her own right, who exposes Sandrine to a darkness that could be a gift or a curse.

This is Sandrine’s “wild night of the soul,” her odyssey in the magnificent city of Paris, of art, love and witchery, and not until she resolves a tragic love story and family curse will she be free of the ghost’s possession.

Effortlessly absorbing and richly imagined, with sumptuous detail and spellbinding suspense, The Witch of Painted Sorrows conjures the brilliance and intrigue of Belle Époque Paris and illuminates the fine line

Available at    Amazon   BN   iTunes    IndieBound

excerpt

Paris, France April 1894

I did not cause the madness, the deaths, or the rest of the tragedies any more than I painted the paintings. I had help, her help. Or perhaps I should say she forced her help on me. And so this story—which began with me fleeing my home in order to escape my husband and might very well end tomorrow, in a duel, in the Bois de Boulogne at dawn—is as much hers as mine. Or in fact more hers than mine. For she is the fountainhead. The fascination. She is La Lune. Woman of moon dreams, of legends and of nightmares. Who took me from the light and into the darkness. Who imprisoned me and set me free.

Or is it the other way around?

“Your questions,” my father always said to me, “will be your saving grace. A curious mind is the most important attribute any man or woman can possess. Now if you can just temper your impulsiveness…”

If I had a curious mind, I’d inherited it from him. And he’d nurtured it. Philippe Salome was on the board of New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art and helped found the American Museum of Natural History, whose cornerstone was laid on my fifth birthday.

I remember sitting atop my father’s shoulders that day, watching the groundbreaking ceremony and thinking the whole celebration was for me. He called it “our museum,” didn’t he? And for much of my life I thought it actually did belong to us, along with our mansion on Fifth Avenue and our summerhouse in Newport. Until it was gone, I understood so little about wealth and the price you pay for it. But isn’t that always the way?

Our museum’s vast halls and endless exhibit rooms fascinated me as much as they did my father—which pleased him, I could tell. We’d meander through exhibits, my small hand in his large one, and he’d keep me spellbound with stories about items on display. I’d ask for more, always just one more, and he’d laugh and tease: “My Sandrine, does your capacity for stories know no bounds?”

But it pleased him, and he’d always tell me another.

I especially loved the stories he told me about the gems and fate and destiny always ending them by saying: “You will make your own fate, Sandrine, I’m sure of it.”

Was my father right? Do we make our own destiny? I think back now to the stepping-stones that I’ve walked to reach this moment in time.

Were the incidents of my making? Or were they my fate?

The most difficult steps I took were after certain people died. No deaths were caused by me, but at the same time, none would have occurred were it not for me.

So many deaths. The first was on the morning of my fifteenth birthday, when I saw a boy beaten and tragically die because of our harmless kisses. The next was the night almost ten years later, when I heard the prelude to my father’s death and learned the truth about Benjamin, my husband. And then there were more. Each was an end-ing that, ironically, became a new beginning for me.

The one thing I am now sure of is that if there is such a thing as destiny, it is a result of our passion, be that for money, power, or love. Passion, for better or worse. It can keep a soul alive even if all that survives is a shimmering. I’ve even seen it. I’ve been bathed in it. I’ve been changed by it.

*********

Four months ago I snuck into Paris on a wet, chilly January night like a criminal, hiding my face in my shawl, taking extra care to be sure I wasn’t followed.

I stood on the stoop of my grandmother’s house and lifted the hand-shaped bronze door knocker and let it drop. The sound of the metal echoed inside. Her home was on a lane blocked off from rue des Saints-Pères by wide wooden double doors. Maison de la Lune, as it was called, was one of a half dozen four-story mid-eighteenthcentury stone houses that shared a courtyard that backed up onto rue du Dragon. Hidden clusters like this were a common configuration in Paris.These small enclaves offered privacy and quiet from the busy city. Usually the porte cochère was locked and one had to ring for the concierge, but I’d found the heavy doors ajar and hadn’t had to wait for service.

I let the door knocker fall again. Light from a street lamp glinted off the golden metal. It was a strange object. Usually on these things the bronze hand’s palm faced the door. But this one was palm out, almost warning the visitor to reconsider requesting entrance.

I was anxious and impatient. I’d been cautious on my journey from New York to Southampton and kept to my cabin. I’d left a letter telling Benjamin I’d gone to visit friends in Virginia and assumed that once he returned and read it, it would be at least a week before he’d realize all was not what it seemed. One thing I had known for certain—he would never look for me in France. It would be inconceivable to Benjamin that any wife of his could cross the ocean alone.

Or so I assured myself until my husband’s banking associate, William Lenox, spotted me on board. When he expressed surprise I was traveling by myself, I concocted a story but was worried he didn’t believe me. My only consolation was that we had docked in England and I had since crossed the channel into France. So even if Benjamin did come looking, he wouldn’t know where I’d gone.

That very first night in Paris, as I waited for my grandmother’s maid to open the door, I knew I had to stop thinking of what I had run away from. So I refocused on the house I stood before and as I did, felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, of being welcome. Here I would be safe.

Reviews

April Indie Next List

March Library Reads List

Big Spring Books – Amazon

#1 Historical Fiction for 2015 – Goodreads

“This bell époque thriller is a haunting tale of obsessive passions.” —People Magazine

“Provocative, erotic, and spellbindingly haunting…will have the reader totally mesmerized cover-to-cover….a ‘must-have’ novel.” —Suspense Magazine

“A haunting tale of erotic love…. M.J. Rose seamlessly weaves historical events throughout this story filled with distinctive characters that will keep the reader captivated to the end.” —Examiner.com

“Rose has a talent for compelling writing, and this time she has outdone herself. Fear, desire, lust and raw emotion ooze off the page.” —Associated Press

“Haunting tale of possession.” —Publishers Weekly

“Rose’s new series offers her specialty, a unique and captivating supernatural angle, set in an intriguing belle epoque Paris — lush descriptions, intricate plot and mesmerizing storytelling. Sensual, evocative, mysterious and haunting.” —Kirkus

authorbio

New York Times Bestseller, M.J. Rose grew up in New York City mostly in the labyrinthine galleries of the smaller MJR_WinkaMetropolitan Museum, the dark tunnels and lush gardens of Central Park and reading her mother’s favorite books before she was allowed. She believes mystery and magic are all around us but we are too often too busy to notice… books that exaggerate mystery and magic draw attention to it and remind us to look for it and revel in it.

Rose’s work has appeared in many magazines including Oprah Magazine and she has been featured in the New York Times, Newsweek, WSJ, Time, USA Today and on the Today Show, and NPR radio. Rose graduated from Syracuse University, spent the ’80s in advertising, has a commercial in the Museum of Modern Art in NYC and since 2005 has run the first marketing company for authors – Authorbuzz.com

The television series PAST LIFE, was based on Rose’s novels in the Reincarnationist series. She is one of the founding board members of International Thriller Writers and currently serves, with Lee Child, as the organization’s co-president.

Rose lives in CT with her husband the musician and composer, Doug Scofield, and their very spoiled and often photographed dog, Winka.

Newsletter: http://goo.gl/AjJRo9

Website: http://mjrose.com/

Blog: http://www.mjrose.com/blog/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MJRose

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/69003.M_J_Rose

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.-J.-Rose/e/B001ILFLQS/

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